5766: Week One
So, the first week of the new year has been relatively uneventful, all things considered. One thing I've discovered recently is that I am so "wired into" "the net” that I have virtually no consciousness offline. I don’t know for sure, but I think this may be a bad sign. If I'd been aware enough to Google this state of affairs sooner, I could have prayed on it last week. Now I have to wait until 5767 to get right with God!
In my dotage (also, Alzheimer’s Disease runs in my family), I can't really remember much about the recent past. Like most of the senescent, however, my long-term memory makes me a freak of nature: I can tell you exactly where I was and who I was with on the otherwise undistinguished evening of May 17th, 1987, but I have no idea what I did last Saturday evening, because there is no electronic or digital record of it. Or was that May 14th?
According to the following excerpts of extended personal email exchanges mostly conducted during paid working hours, this is what was occupying my thoughts in the first week of 5766 (correspondents' comments/responses are omitted, not so much for privacy, but because they made no sense):
Friday: "You look like a dirty blonde in all your photos. The real question is, 'does the carpet match the drapes?' "
Saturday: ----
Sunday: "There was a story on NPR about nasal lavage this week. Now everyone's going to be doing it. I think maybe I should too."
Monday: "I prefer to operate intuitively. Money is all about a little bit of knowledge, luck, and intuition (or so I like to think)."
Tuesday: "Someone just walked into the office and is talking about 'shifting the monkeys' dark-light schedule.' It's always something new around here."
Wed: "I find the category 'non-traditional religions' quite disturbing on an epistemological level."
Thursday: "Babies totally mess up your sense of time."
Friday: Sometimes when you think you have nothing to say, and don't make an effort to find something to say, you indeed end up saying something. ... What can't the internets do?
Saturday: "I have one urgent question re: a new blog post and after you answer I promise to leave you alone."
"PS: I’m making a pot roast today. "
This is your brain.
This is your brain on email.
In my dotage (also, Alzheimer’s Disease runs in my family), I can't really remember much about the recent past. Like most of the senescent, however, my long-term memory makes me a freak of nature: I can tell you exactly where I was and who I was with on the otherwise undistinguished evening of May 17th, 1987, but I have no idea what I did last Saturday evening, because there is no electronic or digital record of it. Or was that May 14th?
According to the following excerpts of extended personal email exchanges mostly conducted during paid working hours, this is what was occupying my thoughts in the first week of 5766 (correspondents' comments/responses are omitted, not so much for privacy, but because they made no sense):
Friday: "You look like a dirty blonde in all your photos. The real question is, 'does the carpet match the drapes?' "
Saturday: ----
Sunday: "There was a story on NPR about nasal lavage this week. Now everyone's going to be doing it. I think maybe I should too."
Monday: "I prefer to operate intuitively. Money is all about a little bit of knowledge, luck, and intuition (or so I like to think)."
Tuesday: "Someone just walked into the office and is talking about 'shifting the monkeys' dark-light schedule.' It's always something new around here."
Wed: "I find the category 'non-traditional religions' quite disturbing on an epistemological level."
Thursday: "Babies totally mess up your sense of time."
Friday: Sometimes when you think you have nothing to say, and don't make an effort to find something to say, you indeed end up saying something. ... What can't the internets do?
Saturday: "I have one urgent question re: a new blog post and after you answer I promise to leave you alone."
"PS: I’m making a pot roast today. "
This is your brain.
This is your brain on email.
posted at 6:06 PM
5 Comments:
p.s.s. I didn't end up making a pot roast
p.p.s.s.: I successfully lavage two to three times a day, and have since 5765.
Lisa: much like many of Kafka's works, your latest entry is Kafkaesque.
I changed my mind. It's -esque, but not really Kafka.
oh dear.
did you remember to set the clocks back?
p.s.
i thought it was p.p.s., p.p.p.s...
please set it straight.
Post a Comment
<< Home