Zzzt zzzt zzzt

i gave the crows
ok like hang on
i got a new coat.
a friend was in town and it was cold and rainy
so i bought a spring coat
rain coat but not as warm as my winter coat
and a nice fabric so i don’t go
zzzt zzzt zzzt when i walk
you know what i mean
lightweight sort of trenchcoat looking
but no belt (those always get tangled up)
and black
but also no dog kibbles in the pocket
so i bought peanuts this morning
in the shell
for the crows
and the crows were all, every one of them,
like:
man what is this?
peanuts?
people always talk about feeding crows peanuts
in the shell
and i used to feed them peanuts thinking
cracking the shells makes it interesting
gives them
something to do but
they like the Frolic! brand kibble better.
and they all hesitated before taking
a nut
they all looked at me
the way i look at the ceiling at night
when i can’t sleep
or the horizon when i get
into another fight with a loved one
fight or misunderstanding
or screw-up
thinking
i hope i sleep better tomorrow
i hope we get along tomorrow
i hope this builds character
i hope there is kibble again
someday
but on the other hand
on the other hand
to be fair
and without wanting to jinx anything
i have also been very lucky
i have met interesting people
i am doing interesting things
i am doing things so scary i am still scared 2 weeks later
friends visit from out of town (see above)
if only i could sleep
knock on wood

On tardigrades

Upon waking this morning, I noticed that my mind was already working full bore, considering tardigrades. Specifically, wondering whether, if they are so good at surviving inhospitable environments, they survive the human digestive tract when accidentally (or, I suppose, purposely) eaten and if this is so, whether their number is growing to the extent that the proportion of tardigrades in our food is increasing such that, some day in the future, all of our food (and all of our poo) will be pure tardigrade. Or, I also wondered, would tardigrades elect to remain inside us, and if so, will they find a way to control our thoughts and actions? It is not an unrealistic outcome, considering how tardigrades, besides being extremely attractive and hardy, are also intelligent and wise beyond the limited ability of humans to comprehend and suitable leaders for this planet and all planets, without exceptionnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

On proprioception

This morning, I recalled the word “proprioception”, including the correct spelling, on the first try. No semi-humorous homing in on it like when my brain tried “cake pharmacy” for “confectionary”. Just the right word, spelled right, on the first try.
Fun fact: I took up bouldering *in part* to help ward off dementia, and the fact that I was able to remember a word I have never before used tells me that it is helping, or at least not hurting.
On the other hand, I for a while really suffered from the misconception that I was a lousy proprioceptor because a friend who occasionally coaches me is wont to yell things at me while I am climbing like, “MIG DU HÄNGST DA WIE EIN SACK!” and I would be like, “really? I had no idea!” Or last time, trying a route a level higher than I am used to, there was a spot where you had to do a certain move and I had no idea if I was doing it right or what I was doing wrong.
And because of this I decided that I had a serious proprioceptivity deficit.
But then I did an Internet search and read a couple articles about it and my conclusion is I am just a beginning boulderer, someone starting out at a new sport at an – let’s admit it – relatively advanced age – after a lifetime of non-sportiness and uncoordination, and so I’m not handicapped, I’m just shitty (but improving) at the new sport, which is completely normal and also great fun. If I had a problem with proprioception I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed in the middle of the night and navigate my house in the pitch darkness almost never treading on a cat, then sit down on the toilet (sitting, because no matter how good your proprioception is you don’t want to risk a standing wee in the dark, what if the cover is down, or someone is already sitting there? etc.), then wash and dry my hands and return to bed – finding everything perfectly (doorknob, toilet seat, sink, faucet, soap, towel) simply via orientation in space.
So my proprioception works completely fine.
I may have a vestibular disorder, however, according to one article I came across on my search, possibly vestibular neuritis or Meniere’s disease, looking at YouTube tutorials right now who needs doctors anymore welcome to the 21st century.

Nature vs. Nurture

Woman: Actually, my psychologist sister told me prematurely grey hair is not genetic, it is a trauma response.
Man, triumphantly: Oh yeah? Then why does everyone in my family have prematurely grey hair?

Far of fir

My wife carefully adjusts the draft on the “Schwedenofen”
in our living room,
which is what they call a cast-iron woodstove
with a glass door here, becaus a cat has made
itself comfortable on my chest, and
watching her (my wife) I think, People who
didn’t play with fire as childrn
have a greater fear of being burned.
Some days I wonder about the extent
to which Covid damaged my brain. Some
days it’s not so bad, some days I feel
like my laptop with the wonky “E” on
the keyboard (you hav to go back a lot
and mak sur it typed all th “e”s) and
some days I should just stay in bd.
In fact, sufficient sleep seems to make
a big difference. I got 9 hours last night,
according to my watch, but was still
physically tird because we went on a rather
long hike yesterday, and had a real
hankering for sweets, specifically a
“Punschkrapfn” which is a small rum-
filled one-portion-sized cake with pink
frosting. And as I took my morning
shower I thought of the word “Konditorei”
which is the plac where one might buy
a Punschkrapfen and wondered what the
English word would be (I often wonder this,
this in itself is not weird) but my brain’s
first suggestion this morning was
not “confectionary” or “cake shop” but
“cake pharmacy”
which, let’s admit it, is even
better than “cake shop”, which I
had prferred until then,
but on the other hand worris me a
little.
Anyway afterwards I complained
to my wife that the cake pharmacy
was close on Sundays, th very day
I have time to go there and my
wife, a skeptic like all of us, googled
it and determind that it was in fact
open on Sundays now, which it didn’t use
to be bcause they had been short
staffed and the owner was tired of
working 7-day weeks.
So, happy ending, we got our
Punschkrapfen.

Now hear me out

What if, every night, your sleeping soul is carried by the white spider from the previous day’s body to the next day’s body, so that, as every morning, you wake to a new life, with a new set of memories that, feeling genuine make the new life feel like the same old life as always, a life you remember? Because of the memories. And you go through the day carrying the burden of those memories, bent under grudges, horrors and hopes, hurting others, hurting yourself, trying to help and getting it wrong, thinking, This is the day I have some luck, until you fall asleep again at night, and wake in a new same old bed the next morning.

With a new face that feels like an old face, with scars the infliction of which you remember in detail, remember well, or vaguely, or only through stories, with bills to pay, kids to get off to school, animals to feed, a yard to mow, doctors’ appointments, laws of nature to obey.

Until one morning you look out that day’s window into the windows of a hundred thousand other apartments and wonder, who am I without these memories, which are maybe not real? These memories are only the stories I am telling myself today. What if I tell myself other stories?

What if I say, to hell with the memories, if only for today?

What’s on the menu?

Important announcement regarding apocaplexia et al.

The current simulation has exhausted its allotment of disk space and will be running in reverse until this is sorted; as a consequence, reality is temporarily suspended.
For participants, this may result in chronological dysphoria, including the sensation that time is running backwards, or along multiple vectors, or not at all.
For example, this blog, metamorphosism.com, is now older than both twitter and facebook, as pointed out by Joeri in a recent tweet.
Not only that, it is now more important and influential than either of the aforementioned former media powerhouses, which have abruptly been reduced to a mess by a billionaire* and a site for selling used furniture (not my joke), respectively.
It can be expected that someone will soon invent the RSS feed and we will be able to satisfy our need for virtual human contact through commenting on one another’s “blogs” (short for Web Logs).
__________
*in his diapers, amirite?