I forgot to take my nightly multivitamin on Thursday night. Most of Friday had me feeling edgy with a short temper. One of the gauges for this was the fact that I was cursing a whole lot more under my breath than usual. I am surprised that, if my multivitamin is helping my psychological pathology, balance is so fragile.
So I started reading Farnham's Freehold after completing Sebastian of Mars. Diametrically opposite stories. The former is a tale about a group of people who survive a nuclear exchange and end up in unusual circumstances antithetical to what one would believe as being the aftermath of such a war. Since it's a Heinlein story, I'm not surprised or shocked at his bold libertarian streak and the sex. Now it's time for me to surprise you with my surprise at the frequent use of "nigger". I'm not talking every other word like some stereotypical supremacist screed but enough to be noticed and possibly gratuitous.
The specter of nuclear annihilation once haunted my dreams on a frequent basis like my oneiric thalassophobia. I lived in its shadow to the extent that I almost embraced predestination, that I would fade into the background radiation with the rest of humanity during the first fateful three hours of World War III. Other times, I'd be even more frightened of actually surviving and living in the ashes of everyone important to me.
A fanciful idea creeped out into my head. "What if nearly everyone in my generation was doomed to experience the horror of nuclear war? What if my generation was given an option by some greater power?"
"You can live but at the price of never procreating."
N.B. I am not a breeder nor do I have any delusions of being one. Now I'm using reductive reasoning since nearly everyone in my social circle, the most intimate circle akin to the frozen lake of Cocytus, are child-free.
Given the choice of living in a world without nuclear devastation and avoiding procreation, the choice would be simple.
I'm just writing off the top of my head.
Other than that, I downloaded a PDF about how to build an eight inch dobsonian telescope. Mirror grinding and everything. Perhaps I'll follow through, perhaps I'll let it become another paving stone in the road to hell.
