A day of pointed events.

K was everywhere with me today. At one point when I was driving I turned on the CD. Willie Nelson. Wasn't long before there was more than autumn leaves falling. Later I was channel surfing when I came across the newest episodes of Midsomer Murders. K so liked the show when she was well. We liked how the characters seldom had the Ken and Barbie look of American TV.  The scenics were English garden lovely and the plots offbeat.

I may have to stay away from the news for a few days. How is this stuff possible? (I'm starting to wonder if the universe appears to be fracturing because I am nearing death and have lost the control that consciousness usually exercises over reality.)

1.  Tennessee man charged with raping wife in church parking lot: ‘I am your husband, I can get it anytime I want’ (I thought  this owner/slave thing was on the wane.  Who am I kidding? There is still a lot of yesterday right in today. Why women don't just take over the world I'll never know. )

2.  The terrifying consequences of open carry: Neighbor’s pleas for help go unheeded before gunman kills three. (Woman calls into 911 dispatcher to report that a neighbor is armed with a rifle and is acting in such a way as to seem agitated. Dispatcher says under Colorado Open Carry guy not doing anything illegal. The situation became illegal when he murdered three strangers. Then society killed him. This situation is absurd. Another three innocent bystanders are gunned down because a small group of men think everyone should have a gun. This guy shouldn't have had a gun. With instruments as dangerous as these, deep background checks should be the very least we do before allowing gun ownership. They are meant to kill. Serious shit. What are we doing? Need a few more road rage fatalities? No problem. There will be more tomorrow.)

3.  Holy war: Louisiana students fight Christian indoctrination at public high school. (Have no problem whatsoever with religious education. Proudly served at such an institution for four or five years myself. BUT, this is a public school. Mandated for children residents by law. Open to every kid, not just Christians.  The principal's salary is paid by public taxes. He is given that money to be a principal, not a preacher. If the principal wants to proselytize,  let him become a minister and do it outside of school funded by voluntary donation.

Screw the news.

Got a book today for inclusion in the Virtual Library. Read it many years ago and am pretty sure I still have it but haven't been able to find it. Finally found it on Amazon.

The Secret Garden

Dawn to dusk in the astonishing hidden world of the garden

By David Bodanis

One of the more significant books that woke me to the technique of "seeing reality" through different filters. (Hint: I experienced being a lady bug on a plant hunting an aphid.)
An absolute must book for the shelves. I can't wait to reread it after all these years. I'm sure I'll be bringing it up again. Have to finish that civilization-collapsing novel recommended by AD at our coffee chat last week. (Glad she did.)

The weirdest thought just popped up. Perhaps, if our society experiences a bifurcation, I can always shift consciousness to another experience. Survive as a lady bug? Something else? Holy crap! Isn't that the definition of reincarnation? I really have to get into this book quickly.

One of the things I will miss in the future:

Cruising in a small boat fast enough to cut through a calm sea. The sensory experience is invigorating, renewing, somehow.

 A solid wall of deep blue fluid is sliced by the prow— a beam splitter that converts the craft's forward motion info equal-thrusting, backward arches of liquid-crystal shells built from uncountable numbers of cascading prisms sparkling in rainbow colors.

Sound? well, ignoring the growl of the engine, the continual breaking of glass—only liquidy. Shards of fluid reuniting into an amorphous, swirling self.

Smell? Cool. Salty. Aerated. A waft of marine life entwined in the shock wave of motion. If inhaled actively, summer ocean air feels like it's coating your insides with an armor of sodium chloride hostile to flus, et. al. It has a bracing quality like autumn air —but with salt.

Your body, thrust forward in space, smashes through cool drops of water , which,  having leapt free of the arches in which they formed, hang in the air until they encounter you rushing in the opposite direction.

It's cool to have done that.