Only my watch says this day exists. An interstitial day. I take it like a day out of history. A patchy reading day. A listening day. A sitting quietly day.
Today I learned that Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) is predominantly liquid methane, I wonder how I did not know this before... So when my country says that it will - so late - consider pledging to reduce methane emissions, one has to wonder how deep this consideration will go in a land that is expanding its exploitation of liquid methane resources. For surely, even a chemistry dunce like me can see, one cannot get at the liquid without releasing the gas.
Wild women. A first encounter with Clarissa Pinkola Estes. WWRWTW is this month's book club book. What do I like? The emphasis on story-telling as a gateway to and restorer of the wild. The idea of wild. How quiet and docile we appear to be en masse. How scrappy and patch-work up close. Isn't it good to be scrappy and patch-work though? A bit fierce still. A bit untamed. There's a place for the woman I become when I go out the door in my work clothes. She gets things done, sometimes does a bit of good. Listens to people that are not listened to. Tries not to do harm. But she comes home exhausted. All sapped out and destitute. Weeks can go by. And then a day like today. A day on which, perhaps, other things should have been done. Instead: a feeling like restoration. Of consciousness und gleichzeitig of the grinning demon.
And isn't it appropriate to turn to the other encounter of the day - to Kafka - on the back of a grinning demon? Oh, how I'm smiling. The diaries. They prompt this. A sudden desire to write something. Be it anything. Be it deleted the next day. Or left, to so gradually compile. Imperfect. Incomplete. Just bits and pieces.
So that's the how, and the about. I too, wonder what it will be. If anything.