Howdy, Blogbots. How's it going? Are we there yet? Where's there? I mean, have we made it to hell yet? Sure feels like we'll be there soon, the way things are going.My tiny parched brain doesn't know what to think anymore. I've given up thinking. Thinking is highly overrated. Even a worm can think. I think. I've decided thinking gets me nowhere. I'm done with feeling too, have I mentioned that? No more feelings. Thinking and feeling, I'm done.
What's left? Besides sitting like a blob in front of Facebook? Well, thanks for asking. These days my new diet is action. For example, today I went for a walk in the park for a half hour. I would have gone further, but my toe hurts. Guess I haven't managed to stop feeling completely. Darn it.
Yesterday I took my computer to be upgraded with a new hard drive. I tried not to feel anything as I dropped off my baby (a heavy, bulky, black desktop tower) at a computer repair outfit in North Portland. Withdrawals set in on the drive home. Within an hour, I was feeling a lot of feelings. Anxiety and fear, mostly, as I imagined that the computer repair guy (who seemed like a perfectly nice young man) had downloaded all my data and would soon be draining my bank accounts.
Today I picked up the upgraded computer. He showed me how fast it was before he unplugged it from his shop monitor. I didn't hear much; I was mesmerized by the image of my sister's smiling face on the screen. My desktop wallpaper is set to show photos. I have many thousands of photos. I felt a bit like I'd taken off my clothes in public and pranced around naked. No, I have no naked pictures on my computer, it's not that. It just felt like a weird invasion to see my private family photos on the computer geek's monitor.
The old hard drive remains in the belly of the beast, a ghost frozen in a moment in time, available in case this new solid state hard drive fails. My life as of yesterday, encased in amber, as it were.
Summer swept back into town today with the east wind. The recent rains reined in the Eagle Creek Fire somewhat, so I smell no smoke on the air today. So lovely. I get why people move here. Tomorrow we'll have one more day of lovely warm breezy summer air, and then the rains will return. Back down into our burrows we'll go. I get why people leave this town after a few winters.
I brought the demented scrawny maternal parental unit some gluten-free chocolate chip cookies. That made her smile. I hope they don't tear up her innards. She's been doing better in the diarrhea department, thanks for asking. Next week she has a dental appointment to get her six teeth cleaned. We discussed underpants strategy. It's odd to talk diapers with my mother. I don't mind if I say something stupid like everything will be fine, because I know she'll forget it in five minutes.
My neighbor, a quiet young man named Everett, got a girlfriend. Lindsey is not quiet. She's a door slammer. She's not angry. She's just active. Maybe I can learn from Lindsey—action is my new magic word, after all. Although stomping isn't really my thing. Still, I can tell by the way she lets her closet door slam that she's a liberated spirit. I want to be a liberated spirit. I'm not sure what that entails, but it sounds like fun. I wonder if Lindsey does much thinking and feeling. A couple weeks ago, as I was walking back from the park I noticed she had left her house keys in her front door. I politely knocked and pointed out the keys hanging from the doorknob. Then I introduced myself. That is how I know her name. Otherwise we probably would never have met. I hear her slam doors and stomp around, but I never see her. She's a noisy ghost.
I finally bought a new keyboard. The old one was full of cat hair and detritus. The spacebar often got stuck, which is not great for accurate editing. I replaced it with a cheap one, like the cheap one I had. The only difference is, I left the new keyboard in the plastic cover. Ha. I know you can buy keyboard covers, and if this thing falls apart, I guess I'll get one. Meanwhile, I'm typing on plastic. It's got a distinctive plat plat sound. Since I got it, I can see the dents over the keys I use the most. That spacebar really gets a workout. And the C and V keys. Probably copy and paste. And the D key for some reason. Don't know what that is all about. The main problem with typing on plastic is the shine. I can't see the keys. On the best of days, I'm not a great keyboarder. Sometimes I just shut my eyes and type. Remember, it's all about action, Blogbots.
