September 13th, 2020

caillebotte_man at his window

Reset Twelve, Day Eight

Now that Californians are going extinct, I wonder what will replace us as the dominant mammalian species? Raccoons probably have a good shot. They are numerous, clever, and very adaptable, and they can eat almost anything, including any garbage we leave behind. There are many species more glamorous, and many stronger and more aggressive, but raccoons are so persistent and stubborn that I suspect they will come out on top next time. Good luck, raccoons. I hope you do a better job than we did.

Saturday happened, but I didn't pay much attention to it. It was too much like recent days to be distinguished. The smoke was thick, the ashes drifted like tiny bits of scrap paper, and it was hot again. I hate to think how hot it might have been without the smoke blocking so much sunlight. Today is supposed to b e hot too, but it is the last day in the forecast with a high in the nineties until September 24. The rest of them will be in the eighties, and one, this coming Friday, might be only 79. Not exactly autumnal, though it will come after the equinox, but this year I'll take what I can get. Sadly, there's still no rain in the forecast, so I guess we won't get any help from the sky putting out fires.

I've been getting to sleep awfully late lately, and when I wake up I lack any strong motivation to actually get out of bed. I lie there thinking thoughts that seem very interesting at the time, and them completely forget what they were. I suspect myself of having fantasies. Delusions of coherence. The remainders of the days disabuse me of any notions that I have any idea what I'm doing. I wander about in a fog of something that isn't fog— vaporized brain tissue I sweat out, perhaps— and then sit down at the computer and try to write a coherent journal entry. If this ever works, I'll be sure to let you know. Don't hold your breaths. Unless of course you're in the west and the air stinks of smoke.

Shit sure has gotten crazy.

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