Feeling Like A Trainwreck - Ready To Jump In A Lake

 I got out of time to catch the bus. I had an appointment with the eye doctor - for some reason, I made it for 2:30. I was late, of course. Reset it off to next month. I walked over to Payless and caught the bus back from there along with my groceries. I got home around 4. I ate a little and watched a little of the news. The cat reappeared and was fed. I crashed Chrome and went to lie on the bed. I fell asleep for about an hour. Not a good move, I woke because I cramped up, but maybe a little rested.

From KH: THE CAT CAME BACK

It is now going 8 pm. Another lost night, but I did get some reading done. Whoopie!

From CrimeWeb, it was THE LATE, GREAT L.A. "HANG" FILM (of which I have seen only two of what I could read - the full page would load for me) and 9 GREAT SPECULATIVE WHODUNNITS. The latter disappointed me by being more current releases and also more inclined to the fantasy side of speculative fiction.

I think Hiddleston and Hemsworth would be great in this scenario: That Time Thor and Loki Cross-Dressed (JStor).

Another runner in Muncie, Police: Muncie man fleeing officers kidnapped, threatened women. I never have gotten why Muncie people do this and Andersonians do not.

From Atlas Obscura: Toward a Unifying Theory of Lake Monsters. I find an idea in here, but I am just too tired to work it out.

Lakes, on the other hand, are often close by, part of the fabric of everyday life—not remote or remotely exotic. And yet we have Champ in Lake Champlain; Ogopogo, Igopogo, and Manipogo in Canada, to say nothing, of course, of the alleged denizen of Loch Ness in Scotland. The fact that there are so many lake monsters to be found speaks, perhaps, to the profound unquiet we have about the waters surrounding us.

Above the surface, we presume complete control over lakes: waterways for commerce, the transportation of goods, recreation, and sports. But the murky depths remain unknown, a foreign terrain. To see a strange animal breaking the surface of a lake is to feel the eerie presence of another realm breaking through, from the unknowable world below, troubling our serene understanding of water.

Almost as soon as we see such unsettling sights in such familiar places, we seem to want to domesticate them. We call them “Bessie,” “Champ,” or “Nessie.” (Bigfoot, it should be noted, will never be called “Biggie.”) We’ll do whatever we can to dull the unnerving sensation. The prevalence of lake monster sightings, and the way we immediately try to render them harmless reflects, I think, our ambivalence about bodies of water themselves. Our closeness to places we can never fully plumb means we must immediately do whatever we can to suppress that discomfort.

This is how I feel every time I hear Trump speak:

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