Random, oh so very random.
I think I have to give up Nutrasweet, because if you’re a depressive, it might make you worse.
And a pointless argument about whether or not paternal mitochondria contribute to the zygote erupted on Slashdot.org (Yes I posted again today. Someone’s got to set them straight.) I say no, but anything is possible.
I think there may very well be something wrong with my fornix and/or hippocampus. I’ve been dredging up the most bizarre snippets of memories lately. Mostly musical in nature, but then I’ve always made a big deal about how my memories are tied to songs. Or maybe insanity just runs in my family.
The song below popped into my head while driving to church today. Last night I had a sudden craving to listen to “I’ll Never Love This Way Again” by Dionne Warwick. Is it psychosis? Or maybe it’s just be cause these are the days you’ll remember… when May comes rushing over you with desire to be part of the miracles you see with every hour…. See. There it is again.
In any case, I just remembered that a few years ago I wanted to be Don Quixote. Literally. I.e., completely delusional about the nature of reality. I tend to make Dulcineas out of all the pretty girls I meet anyway (Not to say any of you were Aldonzas, but at this point even I’m not sure what I mean….) And I haven’t made it very far past loving pure and chaste from afar.
And duty is always the quickest route to the grave. Maybe this song outlines my only possible hope for salvation…. For my heart to be peaceful and calm when I’m laid to my rest. But enough morbidness.
THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM
Lyrics by Joe Darion
Music by Mitch Leigh
To dream the impossible dream,
to fight the unbeatable foe,
to bear with unbearable sorrow,
to run where the brave dare not go.
To right the unrightable wrong,
to love pure and chaste from afar,
to try when your arms are too weary,
to reach the unreachable star.
This is my quest,
to follow that star —
no matter how hopeless,
no matter how far.
To fight for the right
without question or pause,
to be willing to march into hell for a
heavenly cause.
And I know if I’ll only be true to this
glorious quest
that my heart will be peaceful and calm
when I’m laid to my rest.
And the world will be better for this,
that one man scorned and covered with scars
still strove with his last ounce of courage.
To reach the unreachable stars.
Some more random firings of neurons. This was inspired by a short-story called “Lobsters” by Charles Stross found in the June 2001 issue of Asimov’s Science Fiction. No, the story isn’t on the site, but I thought I’d post a link anyway. I wonder if this is the first use of the word slashdotted in a published (we’re talking dead trees here) work of fiction. Oh, and yes, I’m also half-assedly studying for my neuro final…. This is not poetry or anything even remotely aesthetic. Most likely, it’s just me being unable to control my overactive Wernecke’s area….
There’s an image in this somewhere
if I only hadgrepinstalled in my/usr/bin/prefrontal-cortex
all the LEDs are flashing flickering blinking winking
sucking and burning data by the gig
while raster lines dance upon my screen
(is this some demented abstractoporn
a virtual, anthropomorphosed form of fellatio
as the binary equivalent of sperm DNA
comes shooting through a copper wire?)
The temperature in the room
++
as the laser etches the binary pattern onto an
ersatz-metallic pseudo radiant (glistening, glimmering, shimmering in the sunlight)
spinning flat disc
made of cyanoazide
nanograms of it vaporizing into a poisonous gas
Data everywhere, so thick you can feel the oscillating bits
like pinpricks on your frazzled nerve endings
(Meckel’s discs fluttering like smashed butterflies)
neurons firing away like lightning storms on Io
and here I am skritch-skritching away on dead tree
using dust and ashes to scribble out some meaningless photon pattern
now burning away at my retina
and here I am tap-tap-tapping on plastic
zap hum glow
upload download
now burning away at your retina