There are coastal cities which, when seen from the right distance at the right time from out in the water, look like diamond necklaces on the night's throat, at least as far as the poets are concerned, or those inclined to wax poetically.  I have lived in Chicago and can say it's true.  Ditto Cleveland, believe it or not.   Hollywood, however, as you can see, viewed from over the choppy rooftops of a residential neighborhood, flecked with the whitecaps of streetlights last night... not so much.  But you get the idea.  Squint and you might be able to buy it.  Close, as they say, but no cigar.

The question on everyone's mind, of course, is what it will all look like later.  Yes, the planet has sustainable resources of water and wood and enough food to keep two billion people happy, two billion being the generally agreed upon capacity limit of this bauble called Earth on the wrist of the solar system.  It's when we creep up toward nine billion that it all starts getting interesting, if you know what I mean.  Ever notice the looks you get when you try and squeeze onto that already crowded elevator at the Beverly Center?  The one that goes to Macy's Men's Department.  That's what I'm talking about.  Even if everybody swears up and down they're going to be really really serious about climate change, the bad news is there's just not going to be enough of the stuff you need to keep body and soul together to go around. 

Some might argue that to anticipate the future, you turn to the past.  Even if you don't want to think about the future some of us turn to the past.  In the September 24th LRB review of 428 AD: An Ordinary Year at the End of the Roman Empire" by Giusto Traina, translated by Allan Cameron, (Princeton, 2009) Michael Kulikowski talks about the "gimmick" of using a date "to spice up a familiar narrative."  He then goes on to note that using a single date, like 428 (or 1904) -- 

"can also serve a useful methodological purpose, drawing attention to the way we process time and give it meaning.  Mathematically and physically, the passage of time is neutral, any chunk of the past equivalent to any other...Picking an 'unmarked' date can force us to rethink the unexamined hierarchies of importance that we assign to past ages and past events...By focusing on one ordinary, unmarked year, we can often make sense of the things we usually leave out [and]... in the process, gimmick becomes useful method." 

Because I know how fond you are of 5th century history, I wanted to draw your attention to this important matter. And okay, hello, methodological purpose here, thank you very much.  Unlike 1904, of course, 428 was not a big year, at least as far as three digit years go in the 5th century.  It was not, as Kulikowski is quick to point out, an important year like 410, when Rome was sacked.  It was not a significant year like 455 either, when Rome was sacked again.  The point?  Perspective. 

Think about it.  Has anyone ever told you to put something in perspective?  As you might imagine I am told that all the time.  As though I could put my feelings about this or that - the fate of the planet or your eternal soul, my karmic destiny, the way the fellow in the BMW who cut me off on the 405 just looked at me -- as though I could put all this away in a small overnight bag or train case and go somewhere.  Maybe even sail out so far that before I got lost I would turn around to see that everything I thought was so important or alarming up close is really just a string of pretty colored lights.  That what seemed so ominous -- or vulgar and cheap, or sordid, or just plain sad -- is really quite charming if you can only get far enough away from it.  Getting far enough away being the point, apparently, of putting things in perspective.