I noticed it was v quiet outside yesterday and declared the hockey match must be over and that they’d won. However, it hadn’t yet started.

When, hours later, there was something of an external wailing outdoors (something between a falling off a horse and incanting at a wedding) I was reading a particularly compelling letter from Walter Benjamin to someone, Adorno, maybe or Brecht, and was reaching the crescendo in his big question (not to be confused with his little or middling questions) :

“How much of a dialectical synthesis of misery and exuberance lies in this research, which has been continually interrupted and repeatedly revived over the course of a decade, and which has been driven on into the remotest of regions?”

‘Nuff said.