Oh blog, can't I even count on my circadians?
These circadian rythms are cuckooo! But, predawn, is the right time to blog. I wonder how literary history will look upon the blog and internet writing in general. I wonder how the abiiity of everyone to get their yammerings out to no one and anyone will be viewed by history.
I used to think life ended with me but now in my dotage I can see that this is not so and I can see that there still is infinite room for improvement re: the Universe. And, though my imagination struggles with the three of us being a passing shadow(cliche?) I know that it will eventually come to pass.
Which brings to mind Bit Torrent and my sister, for reasons only known to the webmaster and I. Actually, I and the webmaster are one and the same and I can't even see how these paragraphs can logically coincide.
My sister can't assemble a damned thing and she truly can't figure out how to use the extension chord without a struggle or my struggle to have to go to this extension chord and realize to my horror that she just isn't plugging it in and is instead cursing the defectiveness of this product and the store in which it might have been bought.
But, for some reason and to my complete confusion she is interested in figuring out "what this Firefox is" and now she is all about learning Bit Torrent whatever the fuck that is. Live and let live, of course, but this means that I will mid- (legal)motion hear my name called and try my best to seem helpful and even tempered and 5 times out of ten I will fail and shout at her something like, " Lauren, I have no idea about Bit torrent, I'm writing a(deleted) motion. And, sometimes she'll be understanding and sometimes she'll be understanding and I'll think she's angry and then I get angry that she's angry and she gets angry at my seeming "sudden anger" and we about 3 times out of ten say to eachother, " you are dead to me," and 10 times out ten so far we've been unprophetic.
Yes, Bit Torrents, that's right. So, of course I end up sitting with this Bit torrent shit and sister has youtubes about bit torrents for me to watch and it's unbearable. Not because I don't want to learn everything but the narrators of these videos are these geeks they are always talking about nowadays. I see them here and there but mostly I know that these geeks live and love inside the computer and that someone clever once said, " The geek shall inherit the earth." and made us all rethink being meek etc. So, these geeks seem to be socially challenged in that there presentation of facts to the non geek is as uncompelling as possible. And, two of these geeks sounds like they are eating while narrating videos about Bit torrents.
And, my sister is like " I knew you'd hate them" as I sigh each time the geek sounds like he's taking another bite of his sandwich. I'm like, " Lauren, my brain dies at 4 p.m and i just can't deal with the fact that now we are supposed to know about torrents and the names for these torrent sites are bit torrent and u torrent and the lack of originiality is just..... And, she says , " go to sleep, babe." But, I can't because I know must help her with bit torrents and am now somewhat intrigued by these torrent things and how in the hell anyone is figuring this out.
And, then I'm remembering college and the the time I heard the term , "learning curve" in association with some normal college course, and I'm thinking how that word doesn't get used so often anymore now that there is no hope in hell that the majority of us will ever catch up with anything anymore.
And, I'm again reminded that I should feel humble because it's so clear that when I am railing against the word awesome or some particulary cloying example of groupthink these geeks are probably off in some cyber cafe together (hacking into our accounts for the purposes of this post making some sense) and getting really annoyed with me and my sister's inability to grasp how they hell they "get" or arrive at conclusion regarding port configuration and NAT acromynmical imagining protocol!
And, it could be that indeed all of us must be treasured for what we bring to the table whether it be coleslaw or witty conversation. And, I see how the world is maybe just one big potluck and even the new prevalance of the bathroom attendant has a cosmic origin or whateverthefuck and when I read the diary that my sister accidently took home I should cherish this guy(I still keep thinking it's a guy!) because maybe he writes beautiful melodies that I can't see on the paper he's left behind. And, maybe we'll finally track him down and see that yeah the lyrics he's written seem as bad as bad can be but that the melody is gorgoeus and haunting and we were sort of wrong and feel sorry about this dismissiveness. An ambigious feeling-- good and bad- good to be wrong, bad to be wrong....
And, I still have a hard time wrapping my head around some one in the next generation telling his new girlfriend, " Well my dad finally found his calling as a bathroom attendant. He just knew he was home the minutes he handed out his first butterscotch candy to the man with the really loud urine...or the half empty hair gel to the guy with diareahh.
Oh no! This post must go! Legal motions must be made and then a blog post about what it feels like to be wrongfully prosecuted. PERHAPS.
Maybe a couplet or stanza about said prosecution and it's poetic and intellectual implications in the post kafka but pre Spitzberg era. PH(acronym for perhaps . btw fyi lol egads)
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