greygirlbeast | "All the jagged edges disappear..."

The snow came again last night. Outside, the world and the sky are competing to achieve the brightest shade of grey imaginable. And there's that discomfiting silence that the snow brings, almost a smothering removal of sound from the air.

Mouthwise, I'm feeling much better. Most of my strength is back. I'm eating semi-solid food, and there's no pain to speak of. After nursing that broken, aching tooth for more than a year, it's very weird, the absence of it.

Spooky got me a little tarantula hand-puppet as a get-well present. I have named it Hairy Bellafonté, for obvious reasons.

Not much to report. I begin writing again tomorrow, because I cannot possibly afford all this bullshit convalescence. Financially or psychologically. My brain has had far too much "downtime" the last three days. Ergo, the insomnia's bad again. Less than six hours last night.

Still wading through Season One of Jericho. It really does get better towards the end of the first season, but simply cannot overcome the gravity that comes with being a network series. Gerald McRaney is almost as much of a joy to watch here as he was on Deadwood, and Lennie James is nice. Even Skeet Ulrich has become less annoying. But I can't help but see all the missed opportunities for Jericho to have been something genuinely good, instead of something that's just okay. Great stuff for when you don't feel like getting out of bed, but I know I never would have watched this week to week. I never would have made it past the first few episodes, where the bad science was especially bad. And now I see that the series was canceled partway through Season Two, so I'm not sure I'll even proceed beyond the end of the first season. It's not hard to see why it was canceled (writers strike and economy aside). It's difficult to imagine an America that wants to ponder the possibility that the head of the Department of Homeland Security might mastermind a domestic nuclear terrorist plot.

And a stray thought. Take it or leave it. Without wisdom, cynicism is only another way of being stupid. That is, if one becomes a cynic, it should arise from firsthand observation. It should not be assumed as a default setting.

Last night, in the storm, I went Outside for a bit. I'm not sure I was up to it, still a little woozy, and I think it annoyed Spooky. To her, this is merely snow. To me, it's...well, snow. Walking about Federal Hill, I took a few photos (behind the cut).