Tuesday, March 1

It's the first day of March in 2011. I've been 30 years old for entire weeks now. I'm pretty sure that at least a quarter of the Science Fiction I have ever read was set in dates earlier than this one.

I had three beers at the Southern Sun a little bit ago, and now I'm walking blearily around the King Soopers sort of abstractly seeking groceries and provisions I don't have any actual need for. I buy things made out of soy. Overpriced nuts. Fizzy water. Cheap onions. A bag of different sorts of fruit I'm probably going to regret once I validate my suspicion that it's all kind of waxy and flavorless. Some completely a-seasonal asparagus stalks. A box of Nerds, candy which I no longer actually enjoy but can clearly remember first acquiring in a nearly identical container more than two decades ago. There was a protocol to eating Nerds. You were supposed to tip large quantities directly into your mouth from the box. The way I remember it, I didn't go in for this at all. I was fastidious. I ate them one at a time.

Back at the house the beers are fading out of my nervous system. What I should do is go to bed, but instead I switch off all of the graphical nonsense on my computer and start my favorite text editor, leaving me with nothing but a blinking cursor and some tildes (~) down the lefthand side of the screen, indicating where I have not yet typed anything.

I haven't tried very seriously to write anything in months, or at least not anything that when I woke up in the morning and looked at it I thought there would be any reason at all to show it to anyone. My life is I go to work and I come home and lay in bed thinking feverishly about work until it's time to wake up and go to work again. The world at large is way too much happening and too many people with too much to say about it. I'm left with nothing interesting to say for myself and nothing helpful to say about anything else.

Look at me I got these neat snowshoes and had some pretty intense meetings and argued about programming while I was drunk. Oh yeah, and the whole world is exploding into revolution plus Christchurch is in ruins.

p1k3 / 2011 / 3 / 1