Never Too Late!

Never Too Late!
any resemblance to anyone real or imaginary is mere bad luck
we are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are trying to get up



I am not writing much but this does not matter. I am in an input rather than output phase. I'm reading a lot, feeding my head. This began on holiday, when I read, and realised the reason I don't read in London is not because I don't have enough time, but because I feel like I don't have enough time.

Does quantum physics recognise such a thing as the "speed of time"? The speed of time is by no means constant. Time runs at different speeds in different places. Runs differently in different places. Rushes or meanders, rolls inexorably or starts and stops fitfully. In most of London (epicentre of measured time, straddling the GMT zero-meridian; historical home of time-is-money capitalism and rationalist mechanical materialism) time flows fast, at a high but constant velocity. But there seem to be regions of turbulence, places where eddies and whirlpools result in unpredictable time effects, extreme subjective time-distortions. Possibly related to drugs, it occurs to me ("I'm waitin' for my man... He's never early, he's always late..."). Some sort of quantum time effect which ensures that dealers are always wherever they are a good quarter-hour after they actually were. Reading, too, seems to slow down the frightening rush of the clock, and so I lounge in a comfortable stasis while the city hurries and scurries all around.