52/372: Sound
Mar. 10th, 2026 09:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphTonight I'm not eating dinner. I didn't eat dinner last night either, but I did open a can of soup. Tonight I'm not even doing that. I made a malted earlier and that will have to provide sufficient nourishment. I have neither energy for cooking nor appetite for eating. My neck, my sinuses, and my right ear are all doing weird shit, putting me quite out of sorts and forcing me to remind myself that at least I'm not in the fecking middle east.
So things are relatively great in the un-bombed mini-metropolis, for now anyway. The Van Allen Probe, a 1,300 pound space craft, is supposed to enter the atmosphere about now and burn up, though parts of it might crash into earth. The odds of anyone getting hit are small, but wouldn't that be a spectacular way to go? Way better than the lingering misery I'm expecting to endure. Odds are slight, as I said, but I can dream.
Joe McDonald, of the band Country Joe and the Fish, died a couple of days ago. This was one of the first full-on psychedelic bands of the sixties, and I suffered a bout of nostalgia, remembering this doper classic of 1967. RIP, Joe.
So things are relatively great in the un-bombed mini-metropolis, for now anyway. The Van Allen Probe, a 1,300 pound space craft, is supposed to enter the atmosphere about now and burn up, though parts of it might crash into earth. The odds of anyone getting hit are small, but wouldn't that be a spectacular way to go? Way better than the lingering misery I'm expecting to endure. Odds are slight, as I said, but I can dream.
Joe McDonald, of the band Country Joe and the Fish, died a couple of days ago. This was one of the first full-on psychedelic bands of the sixties, and I suffered a bout of nostalgia, remembering this doper classic of 1967. RIP, Joe.
