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The Thin Gruel of Narrative

I am a sometimes insomniac. I’ve found that keeping the laptop outside of my bedroom at night helps. But too often I fail. It’s usually within convenient reaching distance, at my bedside, and I grab it in the middle of the night like a drowning man being tossed a line. And then find myself catching up on the brilliance of xkcd and reading up on disparate topics such as how the shipping container made the world smaller and the world economy bigger and why we make mistakes: how we look without seeing, forget things in seconds, and are all pretty sure we are way above average and chucking books into my Amazon shopping cart willy-nilly. And planning to buy books from the future, about the past, that haven’t even been completed yet.

Other middle-of-the-night discoveries include:

And an early-morning discovery, outside of my bedroom and not on the internets. When I walked into my real world kitchen I found vegan banana pecan muffins on the counter. I’d forgotten I made them last night. That was a pleasant surprise but my short-term memory failure was not. But hey, it looks like my brain decline began at the age of 27 so maybe I should stop worrying about it and start enjoying my senility more. As long as I don’t have to go Memento-style with the tattooing of important reminders on my person.

a whole lot of disgusting

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