No clever alternatives to the current layout. I’ve been distracted by a new COVID outbreak at work, and by the nasal inflammation of stuffing the test swabs up my nose. Still negative, hoorah.
Also, hoera for 5 May– Liberation Day for the Netherlands.
I haven’t thought of anything clever to do with this progress report when progress is diffuse and mostly internal. There is progress of that sort, happily, although the fortress of United States tax requirements is not only unbreached but as yet unassaulted. I’ve realized that I can probably get some advice from the provincial Writers Guild and possibly even from the Horror Writers Association, as I’m a member of both.
I just have to… you know… do something that involves someone who isn’t me. After two years of glorious enforced stand-offishness, I’m rather out of practice with that stuff.
I’m somewhat repeating a tweet I committed recently, but the situation which prompted it is still in effect.
The eponymous phrase above comes from the summation of“Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College“, a poem written by Thomas Grey in the middle of the 18th century. Unlike the modern handwaving about “a few bad apples” (a phrase which is being rehabilitated, hoorah) or the general view of the story of foolish King Canute (which I explain the non-general view in an old post on the writing outlet), the common understanding of the phrase really does follow the source: remain unaware, and remain happy.
I object to this. There is something to it– when I was pursuing therapy for depression, the therapist wondered why I burdened myself with the daily news– but as a rule for living, in the world as it currently is ignorance leads to… well, the world as it currently is. People who shout about deadly surgical masks. The persistent unwillingness to address climate change with vigor. Crocs as quotidian footwear.
To underline my stance, let me offer a sterling example of how ignorance brings the opposite of bliss– painful death!
If you watched that through, I imagine you’ve somewhat less bliss in you than before, and I’m sorry. I’ll offer this as a counter-measure; when you’re aware and attending, the small joys that life offers are substantially sweeter, standing out more clearly from the background of daily worry.
I was looking as someone’s lunar astrology prognostication for the upcoming year, and in explaining the cycle of elements the signs pass through, they mentioned that putting “water” and “cat” together strikes some as unlikely.
If anyone out there is shouting “What the hell are you thinking?!” they may rest assured that I can’t hear them over the screeching of my own internal critics. Updates as they develop… which given the careful approach to this unknown country I’m adopting, will probably not begin until Mid-January.
† It’s my birthday and I’ll use the same pen as the previous day if I want to. ‡ I have never taken my birthday off prior to this year. I recommend it, to be honest, if it doesn’t make life too miserable for co-workers. There is, however, still a price to be paid… ³ Never be The Indispensable Man. I’m not, really, anymore but I’m still not easily replaced despite writing and polishing instruction manuals for the past couple of years. ¤ The Skrip is NOS, just opened on the day of pen-filling, but isn’t quite contemporary to the pen; it’s got the red label from the last days of the dip-well bottles. The Quink, on the other hand, is possibly slightly older than the pen but definitely from the same rough era of manufacturing and also unopened until I got my mitts on it. I don’t know how this happens.