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Grey and blowy day when I did nothing but rescue my laundry from the basement and sit on the couch with vidka and beanbags. The cherry petals begin to fall in the breeze and polkadot the mudroom roof. Somehow I am going back thirty years to that similar grey cool May just back from Japan. It wasn't a better time, no matter what I think of it now. Was, in fact, nearly as traumatic as the present, except that I'm well acquainted with the present traumas and then I wasn't at all.

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I lamented to a friend a while ago that I was suffering from nostalgia for the bad old days, because life may have been full of horrible shit but it was horrible shit I knew how to cope with.
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Whereas back in 1996 I didn't know how to cope with the Harris government's policy of designating one social service a day to be tajen out and shot, presumably pour encourager les autres. These were not the Conservatives of my young years. Now of course I'm aware that Cons are unprincipled populists and nothing they do-- Ford's skanky mechanisms or Smith's outright treason-- comes as a surprise.