Today I joined the erstwhile Masters of the Universe, and entered the red. My investments are now worth fewer dollars than I put into them. Am I freaking out? No. Not yet anyway. Another 25% down and we’ll see. I thank Bill Bernstein, Jack Bogle, and Burton Malkiel for this calm. Am I even surprised? No, and the thanks for that has to go to neo-Popperian Nicholas Nassim Taleb.
Fall arrived today, not officially, and not to stay, but for sure it’s now begun. And it’s not just the shit-slinging monkeys running for public office that tips you off. We didn’t need the fan last night. We kept the windows closed. The breeze at home is cool even at 3:45pm. I wanted to wear long sleeves. I didn’t want iced coffee. The shadow of the shade cloth is falling on the planters in the courtyard, and the light has that golden hue. The middle of the day is disappearing, and edges are rushing in, changing the feeling of solar time as we tilt away from the sun.
I’m sure it’ll get hot again. The offical weather reports don’t even seem to admit that it’s cooled off now (highs are supposedly still above 30°C… but they sure don’t feel like it). It can be 40°C in October here. But the blinding and oppressive light that summer wields is weakening. The darkness is coming back. The safe and enveloping darkness we can hide in. The sun that grows broccoli and chard and peas and mustard greens, but puts habañeros to sleep. The gray marine morning.
Fickle weather. Deep, stony, mountain gorges. Bike paths and festivals. Rides up the canyons to picnics by the creeks. Cool winds and thunderstorms. Bright sun and clouds that move. Margaritas and popcorn. Shortness of breath on 13,000′ peaks. A change of seasons in twelve hours. Collegiate girls lounging in the sun. Green smoke in the woods. Busses that work.
Visiting makes it harder not to stay.