January 17th, 2004

caillebotte_man at his window

Revealing Fog

Though less dense than last night, the fog has again wrapped the woods in its dank cloak and filled the darkness with both rich, fungal scent and the soft arrhythmic drumming of the dewdrops which cascade from the shrouded trees. Yet, while never reaching that density which last night briefly reduced the world to a darkly luminous dome the size of a single room, it has proved more enduring, so that even as late as this, it utterly obscures the moon and scatters its light throughout the undifferentiated sky. The fog is like the ghost of the late rains rising from damp earth, its chill exhalation penetrating every pore, condensing on the skin like a cold sweat, a reminder of both decay and regeneration. Though I cannot see them in the darkness, I sense both the accumulated dead leaves dissolving into humus around the roots of the brush, and the living bark of trees absorbing the moisture from the air, pulling it into the years gathered in boles and lifting it toward stark twig tips where soon green buds will emerge. And though I do not sense the change in temperature, I know that it has fallen slightly when I feel motes of mist icily prick my skin. With rising day, the fog will go to ground once again and soak the delving earthworms. Breathing deeply of the damp, I take in the invigorating chill to carry with me in sleep, so that I might dream of water's journeys. From the pearly darkness above, I hear the call of some swift water fowl winging toward the higher mountain streams where soon the fish will leap into shafts of dawn that spark the tumbling streams. Should I dream of that bird's flight, I will see the grey roof of my world below turn brilliant white and sink away as I soar between blue sky and rumpled green forest. But I'm sure my eye would follow that sparkling stream.

Bad Sluggo! Bad!

Sluggo misbehaved quite badly this evening. There are occasions when he freezes up, cursor and all (or the cursor vanishes altogether, which is most disconcerting) and there are other occasions when I click on a link and the little green monitor icons in the task bar (or is it the status bar -- I can never remember -- and, in any case, I don't think electronics ought to be hanging around in bars, but that's the way Microsoft set it up) light up and by hovering the cursor over them I can see the information passing in and out of Sluggo's brain rapidly, but the page doesn't open. In the latter case, I usually just hit the escape key and start over.

But tonight, both of these events occurred at once. Sluggo froze, cursor and all, and the monitor icons stayed lit, and Sluggo wouldn't respond to any keyboard commands, so I had to shut him down the bad way or he would have swallowed the entire Internet and (probably) chucked it back up filled with his evil. So that's why there is no real entry tonight, but only these very long Byzantine sentences about the wickedness of computers. Sorry. Now I am going to go punish Sluggo by downloading a bunch of porn pictures of cute puppies and kittens.