The annoying thing about having to write for a short period of time whatever comes to mind is that there’s so little time to actually think about anything. One’s thoughts are like a word cloud and to catch anything one has to have a preliminary thought to act as some sort of bait, and most of what follows depend on what the bait initially was. Of course based on some mathematical thing that I know I don’t know but I know exists, if one would try to persist catching ideas this way long enough and use all the subsequent catches as baits, eventually there would be a good catch, so to speak. But to have a good catch takes time, and that’s what sucks when putting a time-limit to when one is writing.
The upside to time boxing a writing session, on the other hand, and kind of letting it be a stream-of-consciousness kind of affair, is that it guarantees that there’d be an output later on, as opposed to having the writing session open ended, which usually end up having the writer lost pulling some long train of thought that never quite have the form suitable to being written, unless by having the patience to hammer it down to something more understandable.
I guess if one’s purpose is to have a written artifact, one cannot go wrong starting with a rant. Unfortunately, if one wants to prepare something that will end up becoming something worth reading afterwards, rants get old very fast because ranting is so easy.
Of course, this entry is an evidence that if one is pressed for time, ranting about ranting is the way to go. Nothing is more tautological than saying everything, given enough time, goes meta.
Enough for today.
Some things I noticed 01/13/2020:
- That stray dog in Turkey using the rollover car wash machine to be petted, is like this. Also, of course, that’s what that machine is called and it can be ordered online. Okay.
- Anly busking
- Messiah‘s politics is more blasphemous than its theology, or lack thereof, which I like.
- A thin film of dust courtesy of Taal volcano on my bike seat.
At least today, based on reading what I wrote for the last couple of days, I do not like where this daily writing exercise is going. It’s clear at the outset that I’m writing for myself, but it’s as if I’m still performing while doing so, getting all pretentious writing about supposedly deep topics I have no business writing about. On the one hand it’s quite entertaining to see myself dare, but at some point one has to regroup and avoid falling into some sunk cost reasoning that since I started pulling some thread I somehow have no choice but not to stop. I can stop.
I guess the point I’m trying to make is that there is no shame in changing one’s mind. One could always take the digression more seriously than the original intent, especially while recognizing that initially there was no intent whatsoever, intent mostly just applied retroactively to things that seem to work, as what usually happens anyway, but never quite admitted out loud. From here I see the thread of agency and free will dangling and very tempting to pull; but not today.
To have some retroactive explanation for what I’m doing, maybe I’m collecting some training data. Maybe I’m just practicing producing words lest I forget the ability to do so, lately having most of my brain muscles attuned to consumption of ideas and less to producing them, which I think is unhealthy. Maybe this is a an exercise of conscious synthesis of thoughts. Or maybe this is just a distraction. But if one would for a moment take seriously the randomness of living, what isn’t? At least the opportunity cost is just half-an-hour and some sense of satisfaction after.
After all, it turns out I’m able to say a whole lot of nothing with so many words. That’s pretty cool, I think, at least.
Enough for today.
Some things I noticed 01/12/2020:
- arsenic was historically used to remove awkward people? Oh no.
- Nataly Dawn Don’t Start Now
- how breasts became browsers
- if this is true, then everything is naturally expected to go downhill from birth. (This is true, why am I always hedging?)
- oh wow so i get why something poetic could be derived from this concept. I have to get to finally reading that book
- so bummed about yesterday’s entry while writing it, because nothing of substance was coming to mind the whole time, but then exactly after hitting publish the timer sounds, and it was satisfying