Kage Baker was born on Jun 10, 1952. That was yestreday. I wrote a blog about it – a nice balance, I thought, between fond sentimentality and the aching void in my heart that never goes away – between long periods of being asleep. I posted it just before the midnight deadline, and felt very pleased with myself.
I didn’t feel at all well yestreday, so that was nice.
I woke up today and found that the posting did not work and the blog has vanished. Both my Norton and Windows programs updated in the night, which probably contributed; extensive searches have yielded nothing. So there’s Kage’s birthday blog down the tubes.
The only upside is that it is raining. Yeah, weird as that is – June 11th in Los Angeles, in the middle of a drought, and it’s been raining lightly since dawn. Might be climate change, might just be California; it’s happened a few times in my lifetime, June rain. This one is unusual in that it is also a cool storm, not tropical – but that actually makes it even nicer.
Clearly, it is still Cinder Cone Time. This time I seem to have slipped back a yard for the meter I had managed to climb upward. I had a friend once who used to call times like this “Shiva storms” – not everything that happens is bad, but it’s all chaotic and uncontrollable. All you can do is hang on and hope the god has a nice surprise for you at the end. In the meanwhile, one is the floppy partner in an Apache Dance with the Lord of Chaos …
Sometimes you know you are on the edge of a Singularity, but you don’t know which edge. Are you about to enter? Have you gone through? Are you going to be stuck there, spread infinitely thin over the bread of reality forever? Only Time will tell, and someone needs to boot Time in the butt for you.
I shall follow Kage’s own prescription for times like this. Read something beloved. Eat something indulgent. Watch something mindless. Rest. Do something – anything! – else, and let your mind start telling stories to itself in the quiet dark.
And I still don’t feel at all well. But the air smells of wet stone and dark flowers, and the light through the lace curtains is all opals and pearls. Time to dream a bit.
PS: If I find yestreday’s blog, Dear Readers, I’ll share it later.