:: A sad end to the life of a great man. Perhaps we might convert the facility from storage unit to museum at some point to honor one of the greatest engineers in the history of mankind. (Tesla was a towering genius. He was also an eccentric lunatic. Truly one of the fascinating figures in science, not just in terms of discovery but also in terms of cautionary tales.)
:: What can I say. I was HIGH from the whole experience. (This post makes my heart sing. Seriously. Go read it.)
:: Ah, but I am one of a dying breed, I fear. There is no room in our modern, confoozled America for artful living. Life has gotten too hard. I really belong in Europe and, if I could somehow manage it, that's where I'd be. (I wish I knew how to disagree with this, but I don't. I do think it depends on where one is, though...there are places in America where this kind of living is OK. Ithaca, NY strikes me as one such place.)
:: But once again, the voice of Mission Control reminds us... this is the last time this woman will ever show off for us. Savor every moment with her, because soon she'll be gone. (There's a quote by Stephen King that keeps popping into my mind as the space shuttle program comes to its conclusion, with nothing in sight to follow it...and as America is turning into a country that seriously mulls over things like privatizing state parks and closing libraries. Referring to something else, King says: "I don't wish to speak too disparagingly of my generation...actually, I do, we had a chance to change the world and opted for the Home Shopping Network instead."
:: Anyway, the whole point of this sordid tale is this: when Watson woke me up this morning by punching me in the face from inside my nose, I thought this would be pretty funny: "Me: Dude, come on, cat. Your toxic shit is suffocating me over here! Cat: I CAN HAZ-MAT? Me: Yes. Yes you can." (Only cat owners would find the humor in a story about horrible cat shit.)
:: I've been musing on how goodbyes never get any easier. Every other task I can think of seems to get easier with practice. My proficiency increases with repetition. Alas, parting from those I love is not like that. (No, this one does not get easier. Nor does comforting friends at funerals.)
:: I’ve given you a lot to think about and digest in this letter. Chances are you’ll forget most of it. So if you only take away one thing from this message, let it be this – don’t be a douche.
More next week!