Words
Can't Live with Them, ...
Hello friends,
There are times in one’s life when a person feels as though the words to describe an event have escaped them.
The American-English language has lots of words. Dictionaries add new words and definitions of old words every year.
But to no avail.
A person might even have a brilliant vocabulary or be fluent in multiple tongues and dialects, but nothing in any language, new or old, fits the moment.
And it seems silence is the most appropriate remark.
But then, what if that brief, fleeting moment doesn’t fleet, but remains, and then stretches out to include other moments? Still, the words one seeks don’t arrive.
And only the act of sitting in the prolonged, quiet anticipation seems authentic.
Moments turn into minutes, and minutes turn into hours, and hours become days.
That person hasn’t lost the ability to speak; they’ve lost the ability to identify what to say. Moreso, as the silences lengthen, that someone surrenders the desire to speak.
Apathy replaces articulations, not because something physiological within the brain has occurred, but because conscious agency has chosen to depart.
One simply can’t figure out a reason to vocalize words that just don’t seem to fit.
This is where we find Marla in the summer of 1989, on the eve of the last decade of the 20th century, before the Internet, the hysteria of Y2K, and iPhones.
This, more-or-less, is the beginning of the first draft of my latest novel (working title: 1989).
And, in an odd twist of life imitating art, this is where I find myself today.
I have published this newsletter, without fail, every Thursday around noon for almost two years: that’s close to 100 emails that some of you have seen from me in your inbox.
It’s been great (for me, at least).
When I began, I had a creative vision and, seemingly, a lot to say. The science-related news I discovered daily excited me, and I wanted to share it (with a little sauce of my own).
These days, not so much. Truth and science have taken a back seat to shock and slop (a 2025 addition to Merriam-Webster).
I’ve been noticing the tone in these newsletters, as a write them, leaning deeper into darkness and indifference. That was never my intention. I wanted this project to be a source of lightness and humor and joy—for me and you.
And if you’re smelling what I’m stepping in, it’s time for a change.
I’m not 100% sure what that change will look like. This may be the last Thursday newsletter for a while, or you might see something else here. Or, you might hear from me in a different format.
I’m going to let the words come to me, rather than search for them every Wednesday evening.
There is still science being done in the world, even if it’s increasingly being censored, undermined, or disfigured.
For now, I just want to be quiet. Silent. To observe if anything sensible arises from the tumult.
All good things come to an end. I don’t know who the hell said that, but why don’t bad things end, too?
Perhaps it’s entropy. Always entropy.
Either way, happy reading and happy writing,
David