Feeling good because I've talked to everybody I'm connected to. Phone calls all around. Whew.!
Sometimes that is hard. Sometimes one has to work at it. Others may not cooperate!
Lately, I've been able to do it. Must be the Prozac.
Also.
Am reading Wonder Boys (M. Chabon) . As it turns out, I'm reading it for the second time. I know this because as I read it now, I remember how it goes. But so much is Brand New News....which means that although I've read it fairly recently, I've forgotten most of it. Hmmmmmm.
Not sure how much weight to give to that insight...which is not really new. I think I've had a stroke at some time. I used to be able to remember things. Now I don't. I think there was a singular point of change. It would have been more or less 10 years ago. After that, I've been compensating. Doing pretty well, I think. Mostly. But clearly, I don't remember shit. Makes retraining hard. And family members rather exasperated, if I don't miss my guess.
Anyhow.
Hung a bunch of family pictures. Hung a picture of my paternal grandparent's wedding....and of my paternal uncles and aunts....they are kind of mafia like, in the photos....not in real life so far as I know...and of my brother who died recently....kind of making a context of me and my family. Also had pictures of the daughters and the grand daughters....this stuff really is curious: how did these people/experiences produce these other people/experiences? What's the flow? How's it work? Are we all the product of AI? My beautiful bright granddaughters seem such unlikely products of my rather dark ancestors.
Sigh.
Sometimes I wish there WAS somebody reading this blog...this diary of experiences....to give me some sort of feedback..Sometimes I do. Often, I'm glad there isn't.
Can you imagine? Writing shit like this and then having some weird cyber sleuth commenting on it?
Thank heavens for numerical anonymity. It's weird enough having these thoughts without someone else remarking inappropriately on them...and how could they be anything but inappropriate? One can never have enough context after all.
Ah well. We are each a singularity. That could be cool. Maybe.
Sometimes that is hard. Sometimes one has to work at it. Others may not cooperate!
Lately, I've been able to do it. Must be the Prozac.
Also.
Am reading Wonder Boys (M. Chabon) . As it turns out, I'm reading it for the second time. I know this because as I read it now, I remember how it goes. But so much is Brand New News....which means that although I've read it fairly recently, I've forgotten most of it. Hmmmmmm.
Not sure how much weight to give to that insight...which is not really new. I think I've had a stroke at some time. I used to be able to remember things. Now I don't. I think there was a singular point of change. It would have been more or less 10 years ago. After that, I've been compensating. Doing pretty well, I think. Mostly. But clearly, I don't remember shit. Makes retraining hard. And family members rather exasperated, if I don't miss my guess.
Anyhow.
Hung a bunch of family pictures. Hung a picture of my paternal grandparent's wedding....and of my paternal uncles and aunts....they are kind of mafia like, in the photos....not in real life so far as I know...and of my brother who died recently....kind of making a context of me and my family. Also had pictures of the daughters and the grand daughters....this stuff really is curious: how did these people/experiences produce these other people/experiences? What's the flow? How's it work? Are we all the product of AI? My beautiful bright granddaughters seem such unlikely products of my rather dark ancestors.
Sigh.
Sometimes I wish there WAS somebody reading this blog...this diary of experiences....to give me some sort of feedback..Sometimes I do. Often, I'm glad there isn't.
Can you imagine? Writing shit like this and then having some weird cyber sleuth commenting on it?
Thank heavens for numerical anonymity. It's weird enough having these thoughts without someone else remarking inappropriately on them...and how could they be anything but inappropriate? One can never have enough context after all.
Ah well. We are each a singularity. That could be cool. Maybe.
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