By Walt Whitman
I need no assurances—I am a man who is
pre-occupied of his own soul;
I do not doubt that whatever I know at a given
time, there waits for me more which I do not
know;
I do not doubt that from under the feet, and beside
the hands and face I am cognizant of, are
now looking faces I am not cognizant of —
calm and actual faces;
I do not doubt but the majesty and beauty of the
world is latent in any iota of the world;
I do not doubt there are realizations I have
no idea of, waiting for me through time
and through the universes—also upon this
earth;
I do not doubt I am limitless, and that the uni-
verses are limitless—in vain I try to think
how limitless;
I do not doubt that the orbs, and the systems of
orbs, play their swift sports through the air
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2017 is apparently going to be a year of small compensations for huge upheavals, much like 2016. Today it was a morning email telling me that this week's Voyager retro review would be my last, due to major changes at TrekToday. I've written reviews for TrekToday since AnotherUniverse.com cut its staffers lose more than 15 years ago, so a significant portion of my life. This isn't a big deal compared to Paul's job being sent to India next month, but it's yet another shitty thing in months of pure crap.
Otherwise, my day was pretty good; I had lunch at Tara Thai with Karen and Angela while Maddy did some shopping, and by the time we got home, my new laptop had arrived, so I spent the rest of the afternoon configuring it (Photoshop on, bloatware off, and guess what, the version of Microsoft Word that came with Works 2002 can be made to work with Windows 10 as long as you have a valid user key). In the evening we watched some ninth season Bones. Chrysanthemums from Brookside in the fall:
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