1.
If I really wanted to be authentic I'd date each of these. Map them out over the week so they could be lined up with events and circumstances.
2.
Slightly rearranging the furniture disrupted my going to bed routine enough that for a full minute I didn't know what to do until I reconstructed all the steps.
First you take off your socks...
3.
I do not like the new Marlboros. Saying they taste the same doesn't make them taste the same.
Don't fuck with people's cigarettes, man.
4.
There was a thought, which I forgot, because my flatmates started talking about the letting agent showing the flat and the end of the lease and I'm not optimistic enough to believe I'll be granted two random equally cool people again. I think I really am just done with goodbyes.
5.
"It was something like the word 'it' in the phrase 'it is raining' or 'it is night.' What that 'it' referred to Quinn had never known." (The New York Trilogy, Paul Auster)
There's no answer to that question. But now I can't stop thinking about 'it' and all those words we put in that don't mean anything in that context, or adopt a different meaning for that moment, and we generally never acknowledge the strangeness of it.
6.
Why people sit where they sit on public transportation, and what determines which strangers they'll sit with.
This was #4.
It interests me. I make a study of the people who sit next to me, and how long before I have to deal with a stranger in my space (when there are only seats next to people left, I tend to be among the first to get a neighbour, though there is little to no commonality between them).
Based on my own preferences for seating partners, I presume that means a wide demographic finds me approachable and/or unthreatening. Or believes I won't invade their personal space more than required by circumstance. (I won't; being in their space means they're in mine and I don't like that.)
7.
I don't like that they're showing the flat when I'm on the other side of the country. Not that I have control over who moves in anyway. But it still bothers me. There'd at least be an illusion of control if I could spy on the potential new people.
8.
I wish I had not forgotten my meds in Canterbury.
Or my razor.
9.
I'm excited. I have no idea why. But it feels like that moment right before you get to do something - go on a trip, have a party, go to a gig - something fun and happy. But there's nothing. I'm just bouncing around the house. Literally.
It's kind of inconvenient.
10.
What would the world look like if we "resurrected" neanderthals? How many would we make? Would they be people or animals? Where would they go? Who would "own" them? (You know someone would claim ownership.) Would there just be a few, or a colony, and then what?
They'd make a male and female. There'd be a circus over whether or not they could breed in captivity. School children would be paraded by to learn about this lost part of history. The birth of the first pure (not cloned) neanderthal would trend on Twitter, along with prospective names for the primordial bundle of joy. Neanderthal rights groups would protest the labs, and religious groups would claim this a sign of the end of days. Public interest would wan as the more unpleasant realities came to light, and a soft-hearted tech would sneak the experimental family out of the enclosure.
And then...
11.
"We've got the tools to do it, so we might as well do it."
The major flaw of human rationale right there.
If I really wanted to be authentic I'd date each of these. Map them out over the week so they could be lined up with events and circumstances.
2.
Slightly rearranging the furniture disrupted my going to bed routine enough that for a full minute I didn't know what to do until I reconstructed all the steps.
First you take off your socks...
3.
I do not like the new Marlboros. Saying they taste the same doesn't make them taste the same.
Don't fuck with people's cigarettes, man.
4.
There was a thought, which I forgot, because my flatmates started talking about the letting agent showing the flat and the end of the lease and I'm not optimistic enough to believe I'll be granted two random equally cool people again. I think I really am just done with goodbyes.
5.
"It was something like the word 'it' in the phrase 'it is raining' or 'it is night.' What that 'it' referred to Quinn had never known." (The New York Trilogy, Paul Auster)
There's no answer to that question. But now I can't stop thinking about 'it' and all those words we put in that don't mean anything in that context, or adopt a different meaning for that moment, and we generally never acknowledge the strangeness of it.
6.
Why people sit where they sit on public transportation, and what determines which strangers they'll sit with.
This was #4.
It interests me. I make a study of the people who sit next to me, and how long before I have to deal with a stranger in my space (when there are only seats next to people left, I tend to be among the first to get a neighbour, though there is little to no commonality between them).
Based on my own preferences for seating partners, I presume that means a wide demographic finds me approachable and/or unthreatening. Or believes I won't invade their personal space more than required by circumstance. (I won't; being in their space means they're in mine and I don't like that.)
7.
I don't like that they're showing the flat when I'm on the other side of the country. Not that I have control over who moves in anyway. But it still bothers me. There'd at least be an illusion of control if I could spy on the potential new people.
8.
I wish I had not forgotten my meds in Canterbury.
Or my razor.
9.
I'm excited. I have no idea why. But it feels like that moment right before you get to do something - go on a trip, have a party, go to a gig - something fun and happy. But there's nothing. I'm just bouncing around the house. Literally.
It's kind of inconvenient.
10.
What would the world look like if we "resurrected" neanderthals? How many would we make? Would they be people or animals? Where would they go? Who would "own" them? (You know someone would claim ownership.) Would there just be a few, or a colony, and then what?
They'd make a male and female. There'd be a circus over whether or not they could breed in captivity. School children would be paraded by to learn about this lost part of history. The birth of the first pure (not cloned) neanderthal would trend on Twitter, along with prospective names for the primordial bundle of joy. Neanderthal rights groups would protest the labs, and religious groups would claim this a sign of the end of days. Public interest would wan as the more unpleasant realities came to light, and a soft-hearted tech would sneak the experimental family out of the enclosure.
And then...
11.
"We've got the tools to do it, so we might as well do it."
The major flaw of human rationale right there.
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