In The Distance
Saturday. Home last night at a decent hour, a good night's sleep, up for breakfast at the usual place, some futzing around with the journal, a nap or two, no damage done from the night before. We ran into an old now ex-employee at our company, something of a legend from the old days when we say “things were more fun”. I guess they were more fun. They were different, there was more passion for the technology, less worry about managing up and watching your back. Not that anyone of us watches our backs; we're way beyond that. I'm not sure anyone in the place would mind being shown the door one morning when they arrived. Such is life here in the city.
But, as I was saying, a good day. A day of comfort food. A loaf of white bread, a package of processed cheese, boiled ham, mustard and mayonnaise. All the things you swear off after a certain age. Ate the whole thing over the course of the day. Did I mention life is good? I usually say life is good after a couple of paragraphs of venting. Keeps the fingers limber, keeps the mind from turning to cheese. Processed cheese. With Miracle Whip.
Time does fly. Two thousand and five is coming to an end this evening. How long ago was nineteen oh-five? When I was younger I thought nineteen-oh-five an impossible time lost far in the past, something you read about in books. Old books. Musty books. Albert Einstein published three papers in 1905, one about Special Relativity with the clever assertion E = MC squared. An idea that brought together something called the Manhattan Project. What is happening in 2005 that will have results forty years from now when some of you are my age? I wonder. But I don't wonder much, here in Oakland, on New Year's Eve, 2005; the fireworks booming in the distance.
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