kitchen
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Sorry about all the blank space. I'm not yet very comfortable with thinking.
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Oct 2 12:51 UTC 1993 |
The Head
It didn't come with any instruction manual but on the forehead
was written, "Screw it on and start thinking." I must have stripped
some threads when I did because thoughts started leaking out and
running down my shoulders. By the time I had walked to the end of the
hallway, my sweatshirt was soaked and discolored.
I entered the bathroom at the end of the hallway, peeled off my
sweatshirt, wrapped a towel around my neck and carefully unscrewed the
head. At the point of removal, light converged to a pinpoint, and all
I had to work with was rudimentary reflex.
Carefully feeling the threads, I found the rough spot where metal
had lashed against metal. Fumbling beneath the sink I located the box
of Brillo pads. Carefully I cleaned the threads. I felt around in
the far corner at the back of the shelf. It was there where I had
left it -- the Cadillac Brand Musk Oil Boot Wax. I scooped some out
and applied it to the female mating thread.
I positioned the head on my neck and turned it one quarter turn,
this time more slowly. I could feel the thread catching smoothly now
and kept turning. At about three turns, eyesight switched on, and I
watched the room spinning around, the flourescent light of the mirror
flashing at a point in each revolution. After about six turns, the
head was snugly down against my neck, and a little latch clicked,
signifying successful attachment.
I looked down at my sweatshirt which was now crumpled on the
floor. It appeared as if someone splashed it with blue and green
antifreeze. That made sense. The man who sold me the head said that
it was guaranteed to work well below freezing.
I rinsed out my sweatshirt in the sink and hung it over the
shower curtain. "Good," I said to myself, "I can sit here and think
while my sweatshirt is drying."
I sat down on the toilet seat. "Good to be thinking again," I
thought to myself, laughing softly at the circularity of this concept.
I wanted for a moment to unscrew the head again to see what not
thinking was like. I was already starting to loose the numb
instinctive reflexive behavior I had once relied upon. I realised
that this would probably be too soon... not enough time to transfer
from short-term to long term memory. Better to wait a few weeks and
become confident with its function.
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kitchen
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response 1 of 6:
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Oct 8 00:18 UTC 1993 |
Testing my method of ASCII transfer
True Stories (Names Changed) Vol #1
Francie called nearing nine. I was at the house watching a
video, "The Caretaker". She was walking the dog and thought
maybe she'd drop in for a visit. I knew what she meant was
that George was getting on her nerves. Either he was out at
the bar or hanging about the house nagging her to go with
him to the bar. She needed a place to hang out for a while
where nobody would be making demands. A quiet place. I did
not enquire as to the ulterior motive of her visit because I
didn't really care all that much. I knew she would bring
the dog. I knew she would bring cigarettes, and that she
would offer me one. I knew that she would just want to be
somewhere quiet for a while and talk about nothing pressing
until the time came for her to go back to the house. Then,
George would be gone to the bar or to the Frog Island Jazz
Festival with his pals. For a change, she would turn in
early on a Friday evening. She would not have too much to
drink or smoke too much dope and then regret it. And maybe
even if George and his pals came back to the house at three
in the morning, she would be sleeping soundly. And maybe
George would whisper for them to be quiet because she was
sleeping, and they would say they really ought to go home,
that they were tired and it was late, the day having been
long and hot. And maybe George would, even with a few pints
on, be extra quiet. "Francie's been on the rag a bit," he'd
say in his working-class British accent. George is a decent
sort. But he can't stop himself. He works hard all day,
he's an independent stonemason, everything under the table,
doesn't have a green card. He expects Francie to want to
hang about with him when he comes back from a long day of
work. Francie's trying in fits and starts to decide upon a
direction. Graduate school in Women's Studies isn't exactly
going to hand her a job when she finishes. Everything is
tentative. Life is filled with procrastination. Promises
to give up cigarettes some day, very soon. Thinks about
giving George the boot, very soon. He's good at bringing in
money. He's interesting. He's travelled around the World.
Worked his way across Europe, the Middle East. Been to
Australia. But she's heard his stories now, more than
once. A few pints and he goes on and on, and people listen,
because what he has to say is like an adventure movie, and
it's about his life. And when she compares her life to his,
it makes her want to run away very far. She wants to be
free of the history of his existence so that she can create
the history of her own. And it will happen very soon, as
she drifts further and further away, until he feels like he
never really met her. It was all just another part of the
movie of his adventure that he will tell some time in the
future to listening ears in Bangkok or Montreal or
Edinburgh. And maybe by that time, he will be settled down,
and his wife will be getting plump after a couple of
children. And he won't be really happy because he could
never stop drinking a little too much. And Francie will be
off on her own adventure. And George will never think to
wonder about what she might be up to.
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kitchen
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response 4 of 6:
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Oct 10 19:38 UTC 1993 |
In answer to Dave, yes. Yes, of course, but not forever. Things happen
eventually. But they seem to take forever, especially when a person is
trying to decide. Then after they're over they seem very far away, like
a very eccentric orbit around the sun.
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mta
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response 5 of 6:
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Oct 17 05:08 UTC 1993 |
In some ways that soinds like the ending days of some of my relationships.
Being unwilling to give up easily, procrastinating, doesn't have to mean
never moving on. I always have. It's just that one need to be sure
before throwing out a well worn relationship.
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