Actually, two days and one hour left before it’s 2024. As a child, I could not envision being around in 2000. And as an adult, in 2000, I could not envision being around in 2024. Now I can’t envision being around in 2048 because by then I will be dead, that is, unless, as my father predicted, they have invented live longer pills. He did not live long enough to see the advent of live longer pills, and I doubt that I will either.

I am a baby boomer. There are a lot of us. In fact, we so outnumber the post baby boomers that they don’t seem to me to be a visible presence. Or, they aren’t very interested in conversing with their, ahem, elders.

The wood ruck gets new tires

2024. The question we all have is what’s to become of us? As I said before, it’s going to be a pivotal year.

On New Year’s Eve, the world over, people are going to be praying for peace at 3:00 a.m., Anchorage time (or 12 noon Greenwich mean time). This is the time they are going to go at it in Alaska. 3:00 a.m. This is when I am asleep; if I am asleep, I’m not getting up to pray at this hour because prayer is synonymous with hope, and I don’t believe in hope. When I get anxious, it’s because I am thinking about what the future holds. And the future is an illusion. The present is generally a good place to be. It, the present, is a strong indicator of the future.

I mentioned to Pete that there are a lot of people of differing faiths in our area and asked him why this is. He didn’t know either. I don’t think it is this way elsewhere. I usually ride along on the shirt tails of those who are religiously inclined. I think that there are some who consider me to be a fish that’s nibbling on the spiritual line. They have hope that I’ll take the bait. I have no hope, so I won’t take the bait.

I have been sleeping better since I resumed working on Shelf Life. Letting it sit and then coming back to it was a very good thing. I get mired in detail in working on the bigger picture and consequently lose sight of the bigger picture. I’m sleeping better because my subconscious is hard at work on this. It’s like a dog in that it needs a job; otherwise, it becomes listless and gives me stupid things to think about at night. And I do think about them.

I am halfway done with my first major revision of Shelf Life. I know how to continue – I figured out that having continuous self-narratives is key. They answer the question, why am I so obsessive about saving books, particularly in the face of adversity. The next one is going to be entitled, “I am not a quitter.” Here I am going to write about my parent’s literary failings and how I moved beyond them.

Got 11 boxes of kids’ books from Title Wave books today. Now we’re all set for next week.

Next: 358. 12/30/23: Below Zero