LINES OF THE DAY

". . . But the past does not exist independently from the present. Indeed, the past is only past because there is a present, just as I can point to something over there only because I am here. But nothing is inherently over there or here. In that sense, the past has no content. The past -- or more accurately, pastness -- is a position. Thus, in no way can we identify the past as past." p. 15

". . . But we may want to keep in mind that deeds and words are not as distinguishable as often we presume. History does not belong only to its narrators, professional or amateur. While some of us debate what history is or was, others take it into their own hands." p. 153

Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History (1995) by Michel-Rolph Trouillot

Friday, December 18, 2009

Nothing Good To Say

I went down with some germ or virus on Wednesday, and it's only gotten worse.  The temperatures hang in the low 20's plus strong wind off the Hawk, as the Hudson is known in these climes, in these winter times,   I'm missing all the parties, which means missing seeing and hanging out with all these people I love.  I feel like, well, you can imagine, when you can't breathe, everything hurts including your throat which is on fire. Tomorrow a gimongous storm blows up from Florida all the way to New England, suffocating the Atlantic side of things with snow and / or rain.  It's expected to storm through much of Sunday, and will likely to leave behind that most hideous of substances, substantial snow.  At least two feet, They Say.

I barely crawled out of bed at noon today.  There wasn't any reason to do so that I could see.  Still I think of all the years I crawled out of bed at the crack of dawn feeling like this to work all day.  For days at a time. At least I can stay home in bed this time around. Though I'm not making any $$$$$$.

Shyte.

At least I have the 1972 BBC War and Peace to watch -- though at first things are rather jarring, since the actors do not feel or look in the least bit Russian.  I also have to read the first two 44 Scotland Street novels by Alexander McCall Smith, and Wind in the Willows.  I haven't re-read WITW in many years, and being sick and it being the season, it feels rightly seasonal.

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