a deputizing of hundreds. a machine gun on standpipe hill. a dropping of bombs from chartered planes.

I thought I would send this on Wednesday, and then Thursday, and then Friday. I say the names of the days, but on Wednesday I thought it was Tuesday and on Friday I thought it was Wednesday and today I thought, ah so it's not Sunday yet.

On Thursday I spent a lot of time waiting. On Wednesday I spent a lot of time getting ready to be waiting. Doctor's offices, government offices, any setting in which you are regulated by impatience and dread and whatever the specifics of your relationship to transactional authority; there is a distinctive texture to the act of waiting in those spaces.

What is the feeling of waiting for history, through history2?

On Monday, 100 years of waiting.