Et bien, qui sait ? Il y a possiblement un météorite capable de détruire toute vie sur terre, qui se dirige vers nous en ce moment même et, comme nous le savons déjà, notre soleil va s’éteindre un jour. Je ne vois pas en quoi cela rend hors de question de s’attaquer aux problèmes existants maintenant plutôt que de remettre, encore, à la semaine prochaine.

*

M’enfin, comme disait l’autre. Aucun vautour noir survolant ma demeure en ce moment, de façon plus immédiate, une amie et “copine d’écriture” me signale qu’un journaliste de la région que nous connaissons toutes les deux a décidé de se lancer dans la folle aventure de l’édition et qu’il est à la recherche, dans un premier temps, de nouvelles en tous genres.

Ma foi…dans la quantité de mes écrits, il y en a peut-être, possiblement et qui sait? des choses qui pourraient l’intéresser. Tant qu’à vivre au conditionnel…

Illustration: le magnifique cadran Rostov en bakelite a terminé sa vie utile. Son tic-tac (qui ressemblait davantage à un clic-clac) me plaisait bien, même s’il prenait son temps avec le temps et que j’aimais beaucoup moins son réveil strident à faire tomber du lit en panique. Je le garde simplement parce qu’il me plaît, mécanisme usé et tout.

*

So, this morning, all the newspaper headlines were scrolling by with their share of past woes to commemorate, along with the anticipated woes to foresee (in a spirit of The End of the World is For Next Week) when I came across a possible, probable and perhaps future woe, announced in the conditional as so many others: this one saying there was possibly an increase of black vulture attacks against domestic animals. As if there weren’t enough immediate problems in need of management, we should also be kept in a high level of anxiety with conditionals. “Maybe”, “possibly”…A bit like people on the verge of a burn-out who spend their days shuffling papers around on their desk, terrified at the thought of tackling anything whatsoever, seeing the magnitude of the existing task.

Well, who knows? There may possibly be a life-destroying meteorite hurtling through space at this very moment and, as we already know, our sun will peter out at some point. I don’t see why this makes dealing with pressing issues now something to be put off till next week.

*

Oh well, as they say. As no black vultures are circling above my home at the moment, of more immediate interest, a friend and “writing buddy” tells me a regional journalist we both know has decided to throw himself into a publishing venture and is currently seeking short stories in a variety of genres.

So…in the pile of my writings, there are perhaps, possibly and maybe some – who knows? – that might interest him. After all, if we are to live in the conditional mode…

Illustration: the superb bakelite Rostov alarm clock has ended its useful life. I liked its pleasant tic-toc (it was closer to a click-clack) even though he tended to take his time about keeping time, and his ear-shattering alarm was enough to throw you out of bed in full panic. I keep it simply because I like it, tired mechanism and all.