Sunday-ish in Normal entries

Been an odd week, I suppose I could figure out a way of ‘splaining, but it’s not over yet and there’s always the possibility of jinxing things. I can’t explain what a jinx is, not without it unraveling because the whole concept is held together by loose strings, but you already know what a jinx means to you. We’re supposed to get two to four inches of snow in the next 36 hours. Some folks haven’t got their power back from the wind.

I was watching some show (look at me flaunting my electricity) more like me and the show were in the same room and glanced each other’s way when the other was doing something interesting, it was this surfing movie and this chick gets stranded on a rock in this sharks feeding ground. I like watching surfing. I’ve never had any desire to do it — hmmm, I’ve never felt compelled to do it, like I was missing out on something if I didn’t. I can’t swim, but I’m not afraid of the ocean. Oceans are — different. Every mammal needs both salt and water to survive, but mixing the two is lethal for mammals to consume. Makes you wonder whether the ocean is the reason or cause for that or if it’s just being ironic.

When the power was out I lit a couple of my wood wick candles and found an old collection of short stories to read. Woodwick candles are cool, the ones with the wavy wooden wicks, the company might make regular candles too I would assume they aren’t any cooler than any other soy based candle. The flame sort of glides along the wick in waves giving it a kind of fireplace effect especially in the shadows. Most of the stories were from, I think, the fifties. It was the first thing I could find in the dark that had a font size I could read by candlelight. Paperbacks used to do half size font and half size spacing, I think to get more words on the page.

We write differently these days. Oh, maybe the segue should have been different, like, say, we print differently, but the style difference is more impressive to me. Even the same old schlock used to be written with more eloquence. I don’t know if we as a people have become less literate or we’re just ok with the bar being lowered. One could blame things like twitter or online journals I suppose; our expectations of quality are marginal compared to expectations of personal content; it’s a straw dog comparison though. I was thinking more along the lines of the professional writer and his/her audience. It seems a lot of things coming out these days read like juvenile fiction or follow the formula with more adult themes.

I don’t know. It’s been an odd week, oh, and thank you very much daylight fucking savings, that helped a lot, swallowing up a whole hour; abstractly. There isn’t really any reason why daylight savings should make any difference to my day, but it does just the same.

Ok, just reminding myself I have a journal.