Friday - December 29, 2006
Corrosion.
Motes of uncertainty. That's how it begins, this
corrosion, this underground evacuation of brain cells to the nearest retirement
planet. "Is that really how I spell noticeable?" "And 30 times 100
is...?"
Or, it could just be a succession of slow, nothing-that-must-be-finished days. Since December 22, I have been mostly at home, thinking of ways of making Luc talk. (No, not like burning bamboo slivers under fingernails...) The internet outage of the past couple of days hasn't helped. My mental thumbs are all a-twiddle, at least the ones I'm used to using. Who knows what 90% of my brain does?
I have been leafing through The Wayward Mind: An Intimate History of the Unconscious by Guy Claxton. My theory about books with subtitles is that the editors want to make sure people understand what the book is all about and not worry about buying it, kind of like explaining the tagline of an ad. I believe I've slogged through this topic before. If this year were a book, I'd call it Blinking at Ink: How One Woman's Obsession with Fountain Pens Led Her to Change Her Handwriting and Develop a Small Aversion to Keyboard Input.
(It is only a small aversion, and I'm sure it's temporary. The Waterman no. 12 eyedropper and the soon-to-be-mine SE P990 must find a way to get along, world peace in my brown leather tote.)
Lucien has no problems with corrosion. I love watching him learn, and squeal as he bats his grape-scented ball from my sister to me to underneath the TV. Today, I showed him Baby Einstein flash cards. He was very firm on Lamb and could not care less about Grapes, Fire Truck, Cow and Clown. I spread the cards out on the floor, made him pick them out from my hands, and each time he chose Lamb - to chew on. His favorite word is "abah!" and he powers the last syllable with a huge outrush of air, so it sounds like an exploding balloon. "Abah!"
Or, it could just be a succession of slow, nothing-that-must-be-finished days. Since December 22, I have been mostly at home, thinking of ways of making Luc talk. (No, not like burning bamboo slivers under fingernails...) The internet outage of the past couple of days hasn't helped. My mental thumbs are all a-twiddle, at least the ones I'm used to using. Who knows what 90% of my brain does?
I have been leafing through The Wayward Mind: An Intimate History of the Unconscious by Guy Claxton. My theory about books with subtitles is that the editors want to make sure people understand what the book is all about and not worry about buying it, kind of like explaining the tagline of an ad. I believe I've slogged through this topic before. If this year were a book, I'd call it Blinking at Ink: How One Woman's Obsession with Fountain Pens Led Her to Change Her Handwriting and Develop a Small Aversion to Keyboard Input.
(It is only a small aversion, and I'm sure it's temporary. The Waterman no. 12 eyedropper and the soon-to-be-mine SE P990 must find a way to get along, world peace in my brown leather tote.)
Lucien has no problems with corrosion. I love watching him learn, and squeal as he bats his grape-scented ball from my sister to me to underneath the TV. Today, I showed him Baby Einstein flash cards. He was very firm on Lamb and could not care less about Grapes, Fire Truck, Cow and Clown. I spread the cards out on the floor, made him pick them out from my hands, and each time he chose Lamb - to chew on. His favorite word is "abah!" and he powers the last syllable with a huge outrush of air, so it sounds like an exploding balloon. "Abah!"