Ever since I opened my first home-decorating magazine, I’ve been a fan of moving the couch into the room so that I could put a table behind it, and then add some nice plants to the table for an absolutely classy look, at least to me. I’ve always, therefore, had a table behind the couch, including now and my current deep-dive green leather couch. The table is always there, for my coffee thermos or water bottle, or teeny tiny rusty one-pound weights.
I’ve been feeling surprisingly not too bummed by the change in time, from long sunny afternoons to a-nap-and-it’s-dark. I’ve gone outside for some free Vitamin D and I’ve turned on David’s twinkly lights. I’m eating a crisp winesap. I’m working on my spiral and there’s a nice backlog of Project Runway episodes to binge on. If I were to get SAD, this would be the manic denial before the dark crash.
What if we all just refused? Attica. Attica. 🐔
The sun is always a gift. Always happy. Even if I can’t feel it, I can see it. I have to stop checking Twitter for any blips of news. Worse, I’ve started checking Facebook for any interest in any of the not very interesting things I’ve said there. I am timid and worry always about that right-winged crow that will come screeching in, making things seem hopeless. They don’t understand basic grammar, and yet they want to be heard!
After much consideration and cutting and pasting, I’ve decided to repair rather than replace my old Perforated Lines daily journal site. Therefore, that link will now take you to a basic time capsule of the turn of the last century, literally. It’s a lot of fun, for me at least, to poke around and see what was going on back in the day. Back, way back, when the web was more handmade and certainly more trustworthy than it is today. Back then, as far as we knew, no hostile government was actively out to get us and our precious personal secrets. Back then, you would only get into trouble if you were looking for it in some dark alley of a listserv. Back then, there was no Facebook or Twitter and blogs and journals, just like VHS and Betamax, were competing for dominance.