The digital clock on the cable company's DVR just went from 1:59 to 1:00 -- a moment of glorious reprieve, almost a stay of execution.
It will now grow horribly dark horribly early in the afternoon -- a blow that is far worse for falling so suddenly. And although it is not as cold, it will be darker here in Chapel Hill. New York compensates by glowing more brightly, its insomniac neon a source of winter solace even before the Christmas lights go up. (Which they now do well before Thanksgiving.)
On the other hand, the growing dark that has been stowed in the morning will now be cleared away to its proper place, a relief like the end of denial. And then there's the blissful insulation of that extra hour I just received -- a magnanimous cushioning of mortality, a bonus pound of flesh on the skeleton, is what it feels like. There is never enough time, except this one night. Time's winged chariot pauses in its hurrying. The relentless relents.
The dark comes bearing a gift: one shining hour.
Most of which I have used to write this post.
Oh yes, just one extra hour means so much. Why can't we have it every day?
But if you spent it all blogging, I do not consider that a waste. People have always kept journals -- it's good for your mind and soul, and it's great writing practice. Blogging is journalling plus conversation. No wonder it's addictive.
It requires a lot of restraint not to spend the whole day blogging. I don't actually blog myself -- I'm just a blog-visitor -- but it's similar. It does have to be limited, but so does exercise and socializing and all other healthy enjoyable activities.
So don't feel guilty for blogging amba -- it's healthy and it's writing practice.
Posted by: realpc | October 29, 2006 at 08:00 AM
Thanks, real . . . wise words.
Posted by: amba | October 29, 2006 at 09:05 AM
Beautiful piece. I linked to it on my site.
Mark
Posted by: Mark Daniels | October 30, 2006 at 02:47 PM