Saturday 28 August 1999
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Pic of the day: People, he's here still. Don't panic. Some time ago, before Dan's wedding, I heard the rumor that this grave was somehow disappeared. Well, rumor ... I heard it from someone who had been searching for it. But as you can see, it is here still. They have not taken him away. But of course, the friend I knew is long gone from this place and this world. I hurt my toe a little bit today as I attempted to take another sensational picture. As I went to the bathroom to carefully remove splinters of broken nail, I reprimanded myself for not having put shoes on to protect my feet. And suddenly an uninvited thought in my head replied: "Yeah, condoms may protect the body, but how do you protect the soul?" With all the truly strange people out there writing journals, I am a bit reluctant now to use expressions like "the voices in my head" unless it is very obvious that I'm joking. And certainly this was not quite a voice ... but it was also highly surprising, like the thought was intended for another occasion entirely. And not by me, really. Though I guess this is the kind of thing I might say. A strange episode it sure was.
The picture, by the way, was a fiasco. I stubbed my toe for nothing.
Later in the day, two of my zip disks fell into a frying pan half full
of water. I also have a cold sore near the root of my tongue. This is
one of those days. One of those days where I play Daggerfall. :)
The other day I took my old Bible and opened it randomly, letting my eyes fall on a random verse. And lo, my eyes fell upon Ephesians 5, verse 12: "For it is a shame even to speak of the things that they do in secret." Uh-oh. Obviously, someone is watching me from above. Well, apart from the American spy satelites. And in neither case, diplomacy seems to be the foremost concern. So, how do you protect the soul? Obviously the personal, portable bubble of ice that I used to carry around me did not do the trick. So I'm trying to learn to live without it. My workplace tries to arrange a boat trip every summer, like a social event for the workers. They tried again this year. (Though they did not get the weather for it, as they did not last year either.) There was a list on which we were expected to sign on or off. The names of those on long-term sick leave were struck out. As was mine. Humans can learn from repeated experience, it seems. Now, can I? |
Reading: The Alien Years, by Robert Silverberg. |