11/21/2014 18:44

actual fiction

What an annoying day this has been. To give but the last example, as I turned from O'Brien Street onto Reed Street, I noticed 2 trash barrels along the sidewalk in Fisk Park, as usual. One was located just east of the cedar trees and about 12 or 15 feet back from the walkway. while the farther one was just east of the swimming pool and only about 3 or 4 feet from the walkway -- both precisely as usual. But as the dog and I drew closer to the cedars, I no longer could see the first of the barrels, nor did it reappear as we drew abreast of the place I had seen it. I was pleased and a little surprised to find the more western of the barrels was still in place when we reached that location.

There are at least 3 possible explanations for this: 1) I was mistaken about the existence of the barrel as I turned the corner. 2) I was deluded about the non-existence of the barrel when I reached the cedar trees. 3) The barrel did not exist when I turned the corner and saw it, but it was present and invisible when I was at the cedars, some evil personality was deliberately causing disruption to my life, and I have been wrong all these years about the actual reality of magic.

This was but the culmination of an annoying evening, during which I learned that people I've never met before (and who moreover are staff to a political office holder) are capable of misunderstanding emails that I have written with either the utmost care or wild abandon. One would think that at least one of those styles would communicate perfectly. And not only that, but I also learned that some people in England, according to news reporters who have never reported falsely about me (or in any other way), are nearly as fixatedly idolatrous of certain rectangular figured cloths as other people are reported to be in other nations. Not to mention that 2 fictional youth in the fictional reality of a Danish movie which I started watching are seeing social relationships in a manner which is quite distinct from my view of actual reality.

How could all these people -- some real, some imaginary, and some English -- have perceptions of reality which do not preciesly coincide with my own?

Even if they could have varying perceptions, why would they accept a second best interpretation when they could agree with me?