Or The Worst of Self-Indulgence, Perhaps
So itʼs Saturday (has been some time[s] now, for readers elsewhere around the globe). Of course, as always, for me itʼs still yesterday (well, not literally as you/we read this, but definitely as I write). Howʼs that for a temporal jumble?
Time has been in my mind a lot lately. Partly because the device that will send my hero, Hunter, in the November novel, to Tsyriel, that exotic and exciting planet distant in time and space, elsewhere and when in the universe, toward which my churning prose is about to ship Hunter off (actually, I seriously hope by the time you read this and/or I check it for revisions-that-might-be-necessary, meaning Saturday morning, that heʼs already there) is supposedly a time machine.
Partly because I have no real desire to live through the unRighteously Rightized America that TeaPot whackjobs seem intent to impose (probably through violence, as so many of their spokeszombies kept muttering about “Second Amendment” solutions) on us unwilling citizens. Talk about taking away freedoms! As I noted on Facebook recently, realizing how devoid of realism the Right really is, “1984 starts (too) soon…” (which I suppose is a bit of a time-travel stunt in itself, particularly if you add the fact that Orwell wrote the novel for 1948, thus the simple inversion of the final two digits to create his dystopic, not-really-satiric “future” now in our past but being made more real every day by idiots accepting undigested, lying Rightist bilge). But enough of that politics stuff. I am sure that future events will provide me too much grist for my mill…
And just because (I am still taking about why time is on my mind) I always get a strange temporal disorientation from composing posts in advance of their actual appearance. Right back to the beginning of the year (and one of my most-hit posts), I let the freeform and multiplex fun of temporal dissociation ripple through my texts. I realize itʼs probably annoying (really, I actually do think about that problem), but I just enjoy playing with that doublesight between when I write and when you (should) read. And of course, reading long (or shortly, too) after the original post creates another level of time dissonance/chording. And then thereʼs the whole issue of rereading… (Not even to mention me editing text after the initial appearance.)
Finally because the free-flowing but parenthetical style that I have unconsciously evolved for these posts seems to trip and tumble in time as well — as in picking up the thread of the device being a time machine after the extra-long and tangled knots of intervening information, including diverging links to other documents and posts from previous days… Or thoughts just ramble off into ellipses (would that be an open-ended cul-de-sac in time?) I do realize that because of todayʼs topic (which began merely by noting the day of the week on which this post is meant to appear, me having nothing else whatsoever to say as I got started; all the rest has flowed from that, unplanned and chaotic, but restructured and posthumously extended into what I hope actually constitutes a kind of personal essay) I have let the quirks I am discussing in this paragraph run amok. Not quite deliberately, but…
And for us in the United States, the date has finally arrived to Fall Back an hour this evening (that would be tonight/Saturday) into Standard Time. I miss the older Daylight Savings plan that featured more Standard Time and less saving, when we started DST at the end of April and resumed Standard at the end of November. Which is, of course, when Janetʼs good old HP laptop with Windows XP might actually expect the event to occur, although if I remember correctly, we have always had to tell it ourselves when the time changes, thanks to good old Microsoft-in-the-head. I will discover on Sunday or Monday, whenever I next boot up this machine, after tonight, how well Apple has done with the new time legislation — I believe I have had to change it manually both times so far, but I donʼt actually remember right now.
Anyway, what I have written so far makes three points plus a convenient clincher (so temporally appropriate but unforeseen by me, unless of course it was always there in my creative unconscious just waiting for the proper moment to burble up into my awareness and make a pretty ordinary resolution to my otherwise flighty lingui-balletics on some tissues of not-a-whole-lot about time). By structure, we actually have an essay of sorts, amazingly to me, having not planned, not edited (much), not intended to go where we have gone.
And so, until next time…
…which wonʼt be tomorrow, because per my developing tradition, I already intend to offer some kind of a piece from some story (maybe Slaves to the Lesser Moon as I havenʼt any other plan — yet) next.
Today also marks a test. I have for months now composed my posts in Scrivener. Then when the time comes to use WordPress to get a new post ready to auto-appear at 5:05 the next morning (Iowa time), or even the morning after that or after that (after that), I cut the text from that program to paste into the WordPress window on my browser (Firefox if anyoneʼs interested), where traditionally I have edited, added and created links and such. But today (okay, yes, yesterday/Friday), I included links and stuff right in Scrivener, and I am going to try the export-as-HTML feature and see what I get. Wish me luck (retroactively, naturally).
I also want to celebrate that the blog went over 62,000 hits late Thursday. Of course, most of them are still frustrated art history students (worldwide) searching various bits of stuff about Impressionist artists, which probably just means clicking away as soon as they arrive, merely stealing some shreds of text or acquiring pictures.
©2010 John Randolph Burrow, Magickal Monkey Enterprises, Ltd, S.A.