2004 Notebook: Weak XXVI
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26 June 2004
No. 2,840 (cartoon)
How do you know?

You do or you don’t.

I just know.

27 June 2004
Sevenths versus Elevenths, Then Nineteenths
I was working on permutations of cloud response vectors when Belinda dropped by to berate me.

“Elevenths, not sevenths!” Belinda admonished.

Had I been using elevenths, she would have castigated me for not using sevenths or seventeenths. Belinda loves berating me, and I delight in annoying her, so I switched to nineteenths.

Belinda and I have an unusual relationship; we love each other.

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28 June 2004
I’m enjoying a lovely reunion with Ayako after almost eight years apart. She’s opening her eyes in ways she never imagined, and I’m pleased I could show her a thing or two. Her transfiguration is as amazing as it is rare.

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29 June 2004
When poets aren’t in trouble, they write bad poetry. And when poets are in trouble, they write more bad poetry. I’m so very glad I’m a worthless artist instead of a worthless poet.

I create bad art, not bad poetry, and so, tonight, I made a print, Ex-Voto, for a dear friend. In fact, the piece is nothing more than a cryptic message between said lovely friend and me. For anyone else, it’s a waste of vision.

30 June 2004
The Island of Reversible Destiny
Helena told me she’s spending the entire month of September on The Island of Reversible Destiny. I didn’t ask whether she was joking; there are a very few things I don’t want to know.

1 July 2004
For months and months, I’ve been looking at a door that’s slightly ajar. I’ve always been fascinated by what may be on the other side, but was very reticent to explore. It’s one of those doors you can only try once, then it either opens or closes forever. I’ve spent a very long time trying to find the courage to try the door that could change my life, and finally decided that tonight was the night.

Having steeled myself for the probability the door would close, I tried it. It didn’t close. It didn’t open, either. The door didn’t even budge, but I heard that I set all sorts of gears in motion.

It’s now almost midnight, and it looks like it will be days before it moves in one direction or the other. I’m delighted that it didn’t shut immediately, but I feel dizzy and weak at the prospect of days of suspense. I know waiting to find out whether or not I’ll spend the rest of my life on the other side of the door is a relatively minuscule period of time, but logic and math provide no comfort.

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2 July 2004
Looking Dinner in the Eye
I like eating fish, especially trout. I feel like a real animal when I look dinner in the eye. Having said that, my thin veneer of civilization makes me hesitate—albeit very briefly—before eating another creature. That’s why I’m very selective when I shop for trout.

Some trout lead exciting lives frolicking in mountain lakes, that sort of thing. I’d hate to be responsible for sponsoring the death of a happy fish, so I look for trout that look tired of life, and greet death as a welcome escape from a tedious existence.

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©2004 David Glenn Rinehart