January 1st, 2010

Ellen Ripley 2

2010, whether we like it or not.

There was absolutely nothing whatsoever remarkable about last night. At midnight (ET, 1 a.m. CaST), Spooky and I sat in the front parlor and listened to the snowbound silence. The city seemed all but dead. I could hear music playing in another house nearby, but that was it.

The snow is with us. There may be more today and tonight.

I had one of my rare migraines all day and night yesterday, which made me pretty much useless. I did try to get some reading done, more of Alan Weisman's The World Without Us and a paper in the Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology on the ankylosaurid Dyoplosaurus acutosquameus. We watched more episodes of Fringe. It was not a New Year's Eve to write home about. Or even to blog about.

I continue to be pleased with many of the answers I'm getting to that question I posed night before last: If you had me alone, locked up in your house, for twenty-four hours and I had to do whatever you wanted me to, what would you have me/you/us do? If you've not yet replied, there's still lots of time. Just follow this link. Blow my mind. Or whatever.

Neil tweeted last night, to ask why I wasn't at Amanda's Boston Pops' show, and I blamed the snow. But I begin to think the agoraphobia is becoming something to be reckoned with, especially when you toss in the unpredictability of the seizures. This isn't what I had in mind when I left the South. I had in mind actually going places and seeing people again. Maybe I shall, in this new year....

Oh, I did take a few rather crappy photographs yesterday, when we went out to the market. But at least they give you an idea:

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Eli1

Addendum



All is quiet on New Year's Day.
A world in white gets underway.
And I want to be with you,
Be with you night and day.
Nothing changes on New Year's Day.

I will be with you again.
I will be with you again.

Under a blood-red sky,
A crowd has gathered in black and white.
Arms entwined, the chosen few.
The newspapers,
Say, say, say it's true,
And we can break through.
Though torn in two, we can be one

I will begin again. I will begin again.
Oh, and maybe the time is right.
Oh, maybe tonight.

I will be with you again.
I will be with you again.

And so we are told this is the Golden Age,
And gold is the reason for the wars we wage.
Though I want to be with you,
Be with you night and day,
Nothing changes on New Year's Day.