It’s actually 5:03 am as I’m starting to write this, but it’s damn close to the time mentioned in the opening line of the Beatles song She’s Leaving Home, and that seemed too fine a coincidence not to note at least in the title of today’s post.
It’s not ironic, by the way, in case anyone out there thinks it is—though probably most of the readers here on WordPress know the difference between irony and coincidence. But the public at large, unfortunately, at least in the USA, seem to think irony is simply any somewhat amusing or tragic coincidence. Whereas (for instance) the only real irony in the Alanis Morissette song, Ironic, is that none of the examples she gives in the lyrics are really cases of irony*. In that sense, the entire song, taken as a whole, is truly ironic…which is a rather delicious irony, if you ask me. I sneak myself toward the suspicion that Ms. Morissette did that on purpose, and in fact, I would be delighted for her to confirm this fact.
If anyone reading knows her personally, could you ask her for me? Thanks.
Today is July 13th, a date which has the slight fun of being a pair of prime numbers (7 and 13, in case anyone was unclear on that). It has the added charm of being a combination of a supposedly lucky number (7) and a supposedly unlucky number (13), which combination is borderline ironic in a certain sense, but not really. Of course, which numbers are deemed lucky, and which are deemed unlucky is deeply culturally dependent. Apparently, for instance, the number four, in at least one of the ways it can be pronounced**, is considered unlucky in Japan, because it sounds like the word for “death”.
This is all good evidence that “lucky numbers” are not actual, natural, real things in the world, outside of human minds. Cultures the world over figured out arrows and spears, and fire, and the fact that things fall when you drop them, and that pyramids are strong and stable structures. The Mayans figured out the number 0 (zero) centuries before Europeans used it or came to the western hemisphere, but the people of India had figured it out, too, on the other side of the world. When things are real and natural—at least when they’re also useful or pertinent—cultures across time and space will tend to arrive at the same conclusions about them.
Judge for yourself, based on this, whether the many and varied world religions have more in common with “the wheel” and “counting numbers” or if they are more like “lucky numbers” and local fashions of apparel. Don’t worry about what I think; I’m not here to tell you what to decide. I’m here to be judgmental if I disagree with you.
I’m kidding about that last sentence.
This will now be, if my figuring is correct, the eighth of my pseudo-daily blog posts since I decided to do this instead of writing fiction—which I cannot be arsed to do right now—or playing guitar—which I don’t enjoy much at the moment, and which is giving me some kind of repetitive stress inflammation in my right hand and wrist. That soreness could be contributing to my lack of enjoyment, obviously, but I don’t think it’s the main thing. I’ve just got rather severe (and worsening) anhedonia.
For example, I threw away a Dutch apple pie yesterday which I had accepted as an impromptu gift from someone who had it and didn’t want it, because when I began to eat a small piece, I realized I didn’t much like it. This is very weird for me. In my younger days, I was known to eat an entire mini-sized Dutch apple pie from the Publix bakery in a single sitting***. It was one of my favorite things.
This is not the only one of my prior “comfort foods” or foods-of-indulgence that has lost its charm. Almost all of them have. You would think I would start to lose weight, since I’m not eating as much of the foods I like. Maybe I am, but it’s too slow to notice. Oh, well, whataya gonna do?
I don’t think I really have much more to talk about today. It’s arguable, of course, that I haven’t had much to talk about on any of the previous days that I wrote blog posts, or when I wrote fiction for that matter, but that didn’t stop me from writing—which is fine in my view. But today I just think I’m in the mood to peter out early, not just with writing but with everything else. I wish I could take the day off work or something, but Wednesday is the day on which I do my most “crucial” work at the office.
Someday soon I’ve gotta just get them ready to take care of all this without me, because I really don’t know if I’m going to be around much longer. Not because the job is bad—it’s not. I like the people I work with well enough, and my boss is very nice, and positive, and my coworkers are for the most part good and well-meaning people****. In fact, it’s safe and accurate to say that the only person at the office whom I really, deeply, do not like…is myself.
I need to get away from that asshole.
*If “Mr. Play-It-Safe” who was afraid to fly had refused to get on a plane but had instead taken a train, and then the train had derailed catastrophically, that would have been irony!
**“Shi” as opposed to “yon”.
***This wasn’t a good thing, per se—it’s certainly not a healthy habit, and was in its own way a desperate attempt to find some reliable source of positive feeling when I couldn’t seem to generate such things by other means.
****One of them came in late yesterday specifically because he wanted to be home to watch the revelation of the first scientific images from the James Webb Space Telescope, and I can’t argue with that decision or his priorities. They were fine images indeed, though I’m more interested in the new science that can be learned through them.
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