Acceptable Solstice

I’m still sick, but there’s only so long one can allow the dry gourd rattle of an empty skull to act as excuse for demurring from writing.  When I’m not on the cold medicine, I can at least think well enough for a few hundred words.  This post before my morning dose, than.

(Still haven’t found a satisfactory explanation of “than.” Then is always temporal, so is than only a description of relation? No websites I’ve found give useful examples, only those dead simple enough for grade schoolers to already get them. {Before the 1700s, there was no word “than,” “then” stood for both uses.})

We’d planned to celebrate the solstice as our holiday, as neither Mary nor I have any special attachment to the 25th.  The 21st seems more meaningful, having tie-ins to the galactic shufflings, than does an arbitrary date chosen by christians to subvert a pagan holiday which has since become one of secular, capitalist excess.

It didn’t come off.  We weren’t ready.  Instead, we’ll celebrate on the 26th, a date not terribly meaningful, but one that should be quiet.  She’ll have her dose of culturally chronologically appropriate celebrations with her family.

A week after, we have the flea, her to run, me to attend.  My plants are doing well, though my indolent sickness has put me behind schedule with them as much as with my writing.

We begin judging the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards two and a half weeks hence.  I think I’m looking forward to it.  Judging gives one a sense, possible (probably) false, of being some sort of expert.  It feels like a thin layer of shellac, an additive veneer that goes toward building an eventual auspice of authority, like all the little crumbs that someday make a cake but that at any given snatch mean nothing more than a dirty table.

I hope, though, that my participation does more than just build my resume.  I mean to make better the literary pursuits I enjoin.  I hope I do.

The magazine I ran for the last year of my undergraduate life is foundering.  I’m pulled to feel a great many conflicting things.  I don’t think much of the students who took it over, so part of me enjoys seeing them fail, but that it comes at the cost of the journal in total is too steep a price to pay.

I also know that good journals come from good submissions and when the latter are wanting the former necessarily suffers.  I also know that part of an editor’s job is to encourage submission, so while too few entries are not the fault of the magazine, they are, in part, a fault of the editor all the same.

I don’t know if I’d have done better.  I like to think I would have.  I know I did in my tenure, but that could have been luck or circumstance.  Known can say.

I’ll read the modern issue when it comes out.

I’ll leave the red pen in my drawer.

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