Es šodien gandrīz nokavēju lekciju, jo pēdējā brīdī izdomāju, ka vajag ievilkt telefonā savu vismīļāko Night Vale epizodi, lai varētu to klausīties pa ceļam uz centru.
Ejot cauri Merķeļielas pūlim un klausoties pašas beigas, bija drusku sirreāli un brīnišķīgi:
"Everything seems to be in order...in that I am nervous, and uncertain, and feel an emptiness sometimes which can never be filled, which maybe shouldn’t be filled, and a sadness sometimes which wells up regardless of context or reason.
So, everything perfectly in order. I’m fine.
We are, as a community, stepping out into the street. We are gathering in open places. I, too, am going. I, too, am stepping out into the street and gathering in open places. Here we all are, in Mission Grove Park, and me, among you, speaking into this microphone which, as always, I am uncertain is even connected to anything, but...I don’t care. Either way. Because I know I am connected to all of you, now.
I have felt disconnected lately. My being has been split between the here and the now, and the there and the now. My relationship with Carlos currently exists within the idea of distance, within the concept of space, rather than in any specific place.
There have been moments where I have doubted my fellow citizens, or have felt perhaps even threatened by them.
But that is not the case now, in this moment, here, in this park.
Diane Creighton is with her son Josh, who this morning is a meadowlark. I feel only love for them.
Jackie Fiero, from the pawn shop, is showing Frances Donaldson of the Antiques Mall a cool knife that someone pawned by running in, shouting “Hide this!” and running out. There is nothing not to trust and adore about this moment between fellow humans.
A cluster of Hooded Figures lurk along the corner of the park, pointing at various people, seeming to leer and laugh at the oblivious citizens. I am terrified of the Hooded Figures. But also, comforted by their menace. I think they are even pointing now at me, whispering, and I’ve never felt more at home.
Janice, my young niece Janice, is here, joined with the rest of us in the park, along with her family whom I don’t like to talk about much, but whom I tolerate in all the requisite familial ways. Janice is with her friends Edmond, and Megan, and Patrice, and she’s waving to me, and I am waving back. I am so glad she remembered the list. I’m glad we all did. There doesn’t seem to be a single person missing. I counted, and every single resident of Night Vale is in the park, and doing fine. We heave our shoulders to express release, we sigh to show others we are relieved. We all breathe once, in unison, accidentally.
“Wilson?” says one of us to another. “How are things going, Wilson?”
“Oh, you know,” says the other, although he does not know. “How are things with you, Amber?”
“Oh, good,” she says. And she is right. Things are good.
And they both take the hand of the person they love, and Amber smiles at Wilson, and Wilson smiles at Amber, and everyone smiles at everyone and at everything, and no one is OK, exactly, but we’re outside and we’re smiling. And that is a kind of perfection of its own.
Oh. Uh, a Sheriff’s Secret Police representative arrives in the usual way, by rappelling from the sky and crashing into the middle of our happy huddle, in a...[clears throat] in a cloud of tear gas and flashing lights. As several people choke and disperse, the representative shouts to us that today was only a drill, that no one was in danger, that this was not actually the day we needed to know the list, although that day may someday come, is already coming, is imminent in the most general meaning of the word imminent, and that we are safe but that we are also in grave danger. We are both at once, and are thus free to fully enjoy our lives. A representative shouts into a bullhorn from somewhere behind a line of armored vans.
[Cecil clears his throat]
So, there you are, listeners. All of you who have escaped the tear gas to listen to these words, we were safe all along, and we will stay safe until that time – sooner or later but definitely always on its way – when we are not safe once again."
Ejot cauri Merķeļielas pūlim un klausoties pašas beigas, bija drusku sirreāli un brīnišķīgi:
"Everything seems to be in order...in that I am nervous, and uncertain, and feel an emptiness sometimes which can never be filled, which maybe shouldn’t be filled, and a sadness sometimes which wells up regardless of context or reason.
So, everything perfectly in order. I’m fine.
We are, as a community, stepping out into the street. We are gathering in open places. I, too, am going. I, too, am stepping out into the street and gathering in open places. Here we all are, in Mission Grove Park, and me, among you, speaking into this microphone which, as always, I am uncertain is even connected to anything, but...I don’t care. Either way. Because I know I am connected to all of you, now.
I have felt disconnected lately. My being has been split between the here and the now, and the there and the now. My relationship with Carlos currently exists within the idea of distance, within the concept of space, rather than in any specific place.
There have been moments where I have doubted my fellow citizens, or have felt perhaps even threatened by them.
But that is not the case now, in this moment, here, in this park.
Diane Creighton is with her son Josh, who this morning is a meadowlark. I feel only love for them.
Jackie Fiero, from the pawn shop, is showing Frances Donaldson of the Antiques Mall a cool knife that someone pawned by running in, shouting “Hide this!” and running out. There is nothing not to trust and adore about this moment between fellow humans.
A cluster of Hooded Figures lurk along the corner of the park, pointing at various people, seeming to leer and laugh at the oblivious citizens. I am terrified of the Hooded Figures. But also, comforted by their menace. I think they are even pointing now at me, whispering, and I’ve never felt more at home.
Janice, my young niece Janice, is here, joined with the rest of us in the park, along with her family whom I don’t like to talk about much, but whom I tolerate in all the requisite familial ways. Janice is with her friends Edmond, and Megan, and Patrice, and she’s waving to me, and I am waving back. I am so glad she remembered the list. I’m glad we all did. There doesn’t seem to be a single person missing. I counted, and every single resident of Night Vale is in the park, and doing fine. We heave our shoulders to express release, we sigh to show others we are relieved. We all breathe once, in unison, accidentally.
“Wilson?” says one of us to another. “How are things going, Wilson?”
“Oh, you know,” says the other, although he does not know. “How are things with you, Amber?”
“Oh, good,” she says. And she is right. Things are good.
And they both take the hand of the person they love, and Amber smiles at Wilson, and Wilson smiles at Amber, and everyone smiles at everyone and at everything, and no one is OK, exactly, but we’re outside and we’re smiling. And that is a kind of perfection of its own.
Oh. Uh, a Sheriff’s Secret Police representative arrives in the usual way, by rappelling from the sky and crashing into the middle of our happy huddle, in a...[clears throat] in a cloud of tear gas and flashing lights. As several people choke and disperse, the representative shouts to us that today was only a drill, that no one was in danger, that this was not actually the day we needed to know the list, although that day may someday come, is already coming, is imminent in the most general meaning of the word imminent, and that we are safe but that we are also in grave danger. We are both at once, and are thus free to fully enjoy our lives. A representative shouts into a bullhorn from somewhere behind a line of armored vans.
[Cecil clears his throat]
So, there you are, listeners. All of you who have escaped the tear gas to listen to these words, we were safe all along, and we will stay safe until that time – sooner or later but definitely always on its way – when we are not safe once again."
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