"There ain't langauge for the things I feel..."
A sunny day, again. Our high was 66F.
The day is somehow a muddled blur, and sitting here I am trying to pull it together into something coherent. I read a paper I needed to read for one of the turtle papers I'm working on with Drew, "Ichnofossils and ichnofacies in syngenetic phosphatic concretions in siliclastic shelf deposits, Ripley Formation, Cretaceous, Alabama." I finished Michael J. Benton's Dinosaurs Rediscovered: The Scientific Revolution in Paleontology, which is a nice little survey of recent developments for non-paleontologist, for laymen. So, reading.
And I wrote 1,017 words on The Night Watchers. I've mostly not bothered listing my word counts lately. There are things so mundane they are on beyond depressing, like daily word counts.
I do not usually read Nick Cave's "Red Hand Files" blog or Substack or whatever. It's just not the sort of thing I follow. But she brought to my attention him addressing pretty much exactly the question that got me into so much hot water on Facebook back on December 3rd. Consider this frankly idiotic question a fan asks Cave, and that he actually goes to the trouble to answer"
"These are terrible times. My friend, actually my best friend, and I don’t see eye to eye about the current political situation. We have ended up actually arguing about these things which is not like us and this is threatening our relationship? What do I do? Do you ever argue with your friends?"
Cave writes, eloquently, "Our truest and deepest relationships allow us the freedom to voice an opinion without fear of it being detrimental to the partnership."
Nick Cave has a LOT more patience than do I, but that hardly surprises me. And I would ask who is rasing children to be this frail, but it would be an entirely rhetorical question, and I'm not in the mood.
I suppose that's all for now. I spent most of the day angry and depressed, but I think that is the only sane respnse to the end of 2023 and the dreadful coming of 2024. Oh, and Ryan O'Neal died. And I watched part of Shane McGowan's funeral.
Pleae visit the Dreaming Squid Sundries shop. Thanks.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
4:05 p.m. (yesterday)
The day is somehow a muddled blur, and sitting here I am trying to pull it together into something coherent. I read a paper I needed to read for one of the turtle papers I'm working on with Drew, "Ichnofossils and ichnofacies in syngenetic phosphatic concretions in siliclastic shelf deposits, Ripley Formation, Cretaceous, Alabama." I finished Michael J. Benton's Dinosaurs Rediscovered: The Scientific Revolution in Paleontology, which is a nice little survey of recent developments for non-paleontologist, for laymen. So, reading.
And I wrote 1,017 words on The Night Watchers. I've mostly not bothered listing my word counts lately. There are things so mundane they are on beyond depressing, like daily word counts.
I do not usually read Nick Cave's "Red Hand Files" blog or Substack or whatever. It's just not the sort of thing I follow. But she brought to my attention him addressing pretty much exactly the question that got me into so much hot water on Facebook back on December 3rd. Consider this frankly idiotic question a fan asks Cave, and that he actually goes to the trouble to answer"
"These are terrible times. My friend, actually my best friend, and I don’t see eye to eye about the current political situation. We have ended up actually arguing about these things which is not like us and this is threatening our relationship? What do I do? Do you ever argue with your friends?"
Cave writes, eloquently, "Our truest and deepest relationships allow us the freedom to voice an opinion without fear of it being detrimental to the partnership."
Nick Cave has a LOT more patience than do I, but that hardly surprises me. And I would ask who is rasing children to be this frail, but it would be an entirely rhetorical question, and I'm not in the mood.
I suppose that's all for now. I spent most of the day angry and depressed, but I think that is the only sane respnse to the end of 2023 and the dreadful coming of 2024. Oh, and Ryan O'Neal died. And I watched part of Shane McGowan's funeral.
Pleae visit the Dreaming Squid Sundries shop. Thanks.
Later Tater Beans,
Aunt Beast
4:05 p.m. (yesterday)