Yesterday I was in the Great Southern Park to look at the toxic caterpillar plague. I walked around the park for a while after the tour and saw a jackdaw sitting on the head of a deer, staring at me. It seemed an ominous sign.
In a woodland area I sat and read about cities as sites for capital accumulation, and the effect of this on people. Democratic control of cities seems the only solution. We are far from there, and getting further. I know from experience that while our local planning authorities are nominally overseen by elected officials, in fact the whole system, both through legislation and through case law, is so centralised that even the minor democratic element is a farce. Nobody who has any power or influence seems to care about this, presumably because they are the ones who get their own way.
Last night was a social one, like the end of the world wasn’t coming. The evening was warm and the pizza was authentically Neapolitan, apparently. I talked about my childhood a little to The Organiser, who surprisingly hadn’t heard about it before. I forget who I have told. I discuss different sides of it with different people too. It is a story with many angles, but still I sometimes feel a little bored with telling it. Your past is your past, and you don’t get to leave it behind, or never entirely.
I spent much of this morning on the phone to my sister and the Dancy Meditator. It was good to talk while wandering in the park. Still, I have a slight tension in my stomach today, I think from the long list of people I have to communicate with for various reasons. Connected life is not always healthy. When the apocalypse comes there will be so many people to talk to. The end of the world will be incredibly busy.
On the way home the crows in Burble Park were gone, replaced by the annual fair, all screams and motion and flashing lights. I saw a clown deep in discussion with a police officer beside a tree. What on earth can such a meeting mean? Nothing good.