18:51 - Thursday, Mar. 16, 2006
when i write like this
Did we used to be able to bring computers everywhere? Was I capable of having a reasoned-out thought without having to apple-U to undo the underline and to un-hit the caps lock key from when I bumped it on the way to the D? It seems like a specifically invented kind of nausea that comes only with screens. Television and computer screens. I want to record myself singing over myself, a myself-a-cappella. Can I do it without a mixer, minutes and minutes of setup? I cannot. Without the screen? No.
It is cold outside. (Indent. These things are automatic. Is there a part of my brain now that caters to key commands, and inserts them automatically when forming thoughts? Do I think ‘)’ at the end of a parenthetical? Do I know when I am starting one?) It is cold outside, and my parenthetical is about to become a new topic, because it being cold outside was about to be an excuse for my not turning cartwheels joyfully around grassy fields, but… it’s old. I myself am sick of hearing about it, because if if if if if. It is. It is cold, and that is that. I am not turning cartwheels (obviously). I am in Paradise Bakery & Café, eating an overpriced Southwestern chicken sandwich and a head-sized brownie, and writing this.
How many people on laptops in cafés are writing things like this, and not doing their taxes or organizing spreadsheets or writing term papers (odd, how these all involve writing, but only one uses a form of the verb ‘to write’ – I must take note of these things if I am to teach English)? Everyone looks so intent. Serious. I am the only one here at the moment, but I mean generally.
My first parenthetical still awaits. I consistently try very hard to follow a thought all the way through to the end, and consistently fail. Whereas I think my stories are longwinded as I write them, I read them over later and find that I don’t remember my bridges, and can’t find my connections. What was I thinking? Was I the same person? Why does the past-me not make the same connections as the current-me?
My first parenthetical still awaits. I will keep saying that until I get to it. Here it is: I don’t think anyone knows when they are starting parentheticals. Everything is a parenthetical, of course (which I really resisted typing, since it’s such a dumb-philosophy-major thing to type; unfortunately, it’s true anyway, which, unfortunately, occasionally happens, that dumb-philosophy-major things are true) but, also, there are no ends to trains of thought, as everything is connected (shit, another one). As I ‘finish’ this thread, it gets more and more repetitive and irrelevant, and the next thing (balloons! honestly.) that pops into my head, I will jump on it as any excuse to save myself from my downward parenthetical spiral.
Unfortunately, I have nothing to say about balloons, but I do have this to say: I will read this later, while trying to convince myself to not bother writing because I suck at it sometimes, and, thus conditioned, I will think it is stupid (and possibly confusing, due to the insufficiently explained bridges and connections [especially this, here]), but let’s just put one thing down for the remembering record. I feel terrific when I write like this.
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