I have been trying an experiment and waiting to write something until I felt like writing something, which is simultaneously the long history of this particular space and a new way of going about it. Forced/notforced. My brain is full of thinking but not so full of thoughts.
Through a complicated series of unfortunate events we found ourselves in the nonhours in the LA airport, which was not a place I had intended to be. It was there that I sat through my first earthquake, too tired to be anything but tired, rattling slightly and exchanging exclamations with the people around me. I have spent so many years waking in the night hallucinating earthquakes, waiting for the car alarms to start and the ceiling above to give, that it's only appropriate it happened this way, with a whimper. In most things, this is the case.
E.B. White was a great writer of letters, and his response to main who felt bereft of confidence in his fellow humans was thus: "Sailors have an expression about the weather: they say, the weather is a great bluffer. I guess the same is true of our human society — things can look dark, then a break shows in the clouds, and all is changed, sometimes rather suddenly. It is quite obvious that the human race has made a queer mess of life on this planet. But as a people we probably harbor seeds of goodness that have lain for a long time waiting to sprout when the conditions are right." If you were to guess at my activities recently--and I suppose, always--a guess at the watching therewith would be right. Thinking thinking, if not thoughts.