February 3rd, 2005

hindenburg

Short Time

I've decided that Sluggo has to be shut down before five o'clock each morning. I need at least half an hour of no stimulation before I can get to sleep, and Sluggo is way to stimulating. Well, what Sluggo shows me on the Internets is way too stimulating, and Sluggo himself is way too infuriating. The best way to get to sleep is for my brain to shut up, and my brain has an unfortunate tendency to diesel. Maybe I need a sensory deprivation tank.

There is a haze dimming the stars tonight. It is like gauze floating through the sky, or like a few drops of cream stirred into a cup of tea. Tomorrow Today is supposed to be even warmer than yesterday. It will be a nice day to go out, but a terrible day to use the Slug. I probably won't be around much. Even a few mild days have been enough to make me fall way behind in such tasks as keeping my inbox reasonably clear. If I get the chance, I'm going to go looking at computers within the next couple of days. The Slug has been with me for more than four years now, and I know he's terminal. I'm not even sure he'll last until I can get a replacement. If I vanish for a while, blame Sluggo.
sutter_buttes_scene

Nearing

The haze is only now creeping near. All day it has covered the valley, obscuring the southern view. A few hours ago, I traveled to the southern end of town, and the haze began no more than a thousand yards from my house, and grew thicker as I went down the hill. By the time I returned, it had moved northward another five hundred yards. Here, the day is bright, verging on hot, and the mountains to the north and east stand in sharp relief, but in the haze, visibility is no more than a mile. Though it is only moisture, and possessed of a dank odor, it looks very much like smog, and as I watch it approach, I feel a tinge of nostalgia for Los Angeles. Within an hour, at most, I suspect we will be engulfed, and the shapes of the mountain ridges will grow dim. For the moment, it is only a hint of vagueness that moves in the air, and the oblivious birds continue to sing as though spring had arrived. But this haze is winter's breath, exhaled during a nap from which it will soon wake. I will be pleased if the haze turns to a proper fog. Even if it doesn't, it's been fun to watch, and a nice break from the meteorological niceness of recent days.