Tomorrow, as thousands of Londoners try to navigate, on foot, the crimson haze of horror that was inflicted upon them just over twenty-four hours ago, I will be cleaning my room. These things have nothing to do with each other, save to accentuate just how remote humans can be from one another, even the most horrendous of times.

No, that's not accurate at all. The London bombings/cleaning house juxtaposition simply shows that people, in this case myself, will continue to be banal in any situation that is not immediately life- or worldview-threatening, and even then I suspect that banality would return as soon as it possibly could.

I don't know what's more disheartening: my pessimism or my banality, as exhibited in the writing of this entry.

Coda:

Well, I could have a coda, since some essays I'm reading in between bursts of typing this have given me an idea, but I'm having a hard time concentrating, and frankly, I should be working on Unheimlich or something.