March Exercise —day fourteen— Needless to say, there’s been a hazy layer of melancholy over my year, but nothing about it can compare to what so many souls across Japan have been forced to endure since last week. With no cable news feed, I can’t say I’ve spent any time with live coverage. Nevertheless, I’ve watched enough video to feel sick over the heartbreaking developments, and no self-respecting crashologist can fail to recognize how abruptly this type of disaster could befall any of us. We are more accustomed to appraising the aftermath of nature’s fury in less-advanced, relatively unsophisticated places. There’s something about seeing this devastation visited upon such a meticulous, aesthetically refined culture that rips deeper into my sense of well-being. When we were little, we would block up the creek or the pond overflow, build little villages out of sticks in the channel, and then release the water to see the miniature dwellings swept away. The boyhood pleasure we would derive from such activities comes back to haunt me now. Is some unseen cosmic juvenile at play with our little wet rock, or must we accept that each of us is merely a scintilla of this devilish lad—one of the billions of tiny cells that make up this singularly inept planetary steward?
Today’s sight bite— The swirling, gargantuan black mass oozing over everything in its path —c-l-i-c-k— as terrified observers cry helplessly, yet continue to point their video cameras at the unthinkable.
Tomorrow— The annual regime is nearly half over . . .