Reset Forty-Five, Day Thirteen
Oct. 18th, 2022 06:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphIf I remember correctly, I slept the middle out of Monday, but I'm sure I didn't miss much. Even if there had been something to miss and I hadn't missed it, I'm sure I wouldn't remember what it was anyway. And I just confused the hell out of myself. What am I talking about? Does anybody even care? Certainly not Melania. Anybody else? Bueller?
Anyway, I got up late afternoon and dithered for a while, then sat outside and enjoyed the slightly traffic-fumed but soft air of a mild afternoon, and later I ate some beans and toast, which for me (and for some not insignificant percentage of the English, I've heard) counts as an actual meal. It doesn't get any better, some say, than this; to which I add "anymore" and "alas," alas.
I might have taken a nap later but got distracted when I remembered a web site I came across some time ago and forgot to return to. The Bureau of Public Secrets was put together by writer and translator Ken Knabb, and among its many delights is a collection of the columns written by poet an critic Kenneth Rexroth for three Bay Area publications in the 1960s and 1970s. In the real (aka non-digital) world I was in possession of copies of many of those columns which had appeared in San Francisco Magazine from 1967 to 1975. These, of course, burned in the Great Fire of 2018, but now I can read them again online, at my leisure, though not without some discomfort.
I suspect that Ken Knabb might be color blind, as he chose a blue background for his web pages, which I can read for only a short time before my eyes grow exhausted and demand to look at something other than a computer screen. Well, it will just take me longer to read them, as I'll be taking so many breaks, but at least they are there. I have found that if I highlight the pages, the resulting white lettering on darker blue is less horrendous than the black lettering on lighter blue that is native to the pages. I still get spots before my eyes when I finally look away, though they don't last quite as long, and it takes longer to reach that point.
In any case, I spent a few hours reading tonight, and looked back at some of his earlier columns that I'd never seen before. I looked up the one that was published in the San Francisco Examiner on December 29, 1963, as I was actually in San Francisco the day it was published, though I didn't buy a copy of the paper then. I thought perhaps it might trigger some memory that would reconnect me to that time, but it didn't. It wasn't about anything that I had encountered on that visit. I had objects that did evoke such memories, but they burned in the Great Fire. Now I can remember the objects, but the memory of objects has less power than the objects themselves when it comes to triggering the memory. But I fear I am about to confuse myself again , so I think I'll quit while I'm ahead, or at least not too far behind to ever be found.
Here is a song that was popular in December of 1963. It is sung by Rusty Draper, who was appearing at a club in San Francisco around that time, and was written by Willie Nelson and Roy Orbison, among others. It can still trigger memories.
Anyway, I got up late afternoon and dithered for a while, then sat outside and enjoyed the slightly traffic-fumed but soft air of a mild afternoon, and later I ate some beans and toast, which for me (and for some not insignificant percentage of the English, I've heard) counts as an actual meal. It doesn't get any better, some say, than this; to which I add "anymore" and "alas," alas.
I might have taken a nap later but got distracted when I remembered a web site I came across some time ago and forgot to return to. The Bureau of Public Secrets was put together by writer and translator Ken Knabb, and among its many delights is a collection of the columns written by poet an critic Kenneth Rexroth for three Bay Area publications in the 1960s and 1970s. In the real (aka non-digital) world I was in possession of copies of many of those columns which had appeared in San Francisco Magazine from 1967 to 1975. These, of course, burned in the Great Fire of 2018, but now I can read them again online, at my leisure, though not without some discomfort.
I suspect that Ken Knabb might be color blind, as he chose a blue background for his web pages, which I can read for only a short time before my eyes grow exhausted and demand to look at something other than a computer screen. Well, it will just take me longer to read them, as I'll be taking so many breaks, but at least they are there. I have found that if I highlight the pages, the resulting white lettering on darker blue is less horrendous than the black lettering on lighter blue that is native to the pages. I still get spots before my eyes when I finally look away, though they don't last quite as long, and it takes longer to reach that point.
In any case, I spent a few hours reading tonight, and looked back at some of his earlier columns that I'd never seen before. I looked up the one that was published in the San Francisco Examiner on December 29, 1963, as I was actually in San Francisco the day it was published, though I didn't buy a copy of the paper then. I thought perhaps it might trigger some memory that would reconnect me to that time, but it didn't. It wasn't about anything that I had encountered on that visit. I had objects that did evoke such memories, but they burned in the Great Fire. Now I can remember the objects, but the memory of objects has less power than the objects themselves when it comes to triggering the memory. But I fear I am about to confuse myself again , so I think I'll quit while I'm ahead, or at least not too far behind to ever be found.
Here is a song that was popular in December of 1963. It is sung by Rusty Draper, who was appearing at a club in San Francisco around that time, and was written by Willie Nelson and Roy Orbison, among others. It can still trigger memories.
