.
Thurs. a.m. Headache mental insensibility heaviness oppressed. That acid feeling.
Tues. extremely late. Few improvements no advancements. Citizen of no nation. Stupefaction, shortness of breath & c.
Sat. night, call it morning. Done nothing need of doing pressing time of doing short.
Mon. Sounds, late. Little mice if I am not wrong. Or something. (Cats hear this.)
Sun. Day of darkening drips then night. Indolence indifference. Mind encumbered. No plan pursued or formed. Want of rest. Nor ad nor product.
Tues. Survey past life many faults many deficiencies much to be repented very little reformed. Time not expected to be long. Dark stain shadowed ceiling.
Wed. Misspent time infirmity of body perturbation of mind. As ever, tea. When p and ~p have a common boundary.
Sat. Seventieth year. Mandrill. What can be done ought not to be delayed. Delayed reaction. Left the p out of swimming. It is NOT ENOUGH to point to ~p's lying outside p. Relentless peaks & valleys & c. Whereas p and ~p have a common boundary. Already presupposing the existence of a whole world of propositions.
Thurs. Again. As before.
Sat. after long unquiet and perplexing thoughts. Thoughts not my thoughts ways not my ways much to be done little to be known. Unprofitable and dangerous enquiries. Curious doubts impossible to be solved.
Mon. too late.
Obverse fog Tues. early. Stood silent on the iron trellised balcony crept over by shining white flies.
A GREAT MEMORIAL NEARS COMPLETION: Life, 09/30/1940
Your engine makes this much acid every day: Boris Artzybasheff, Life, 04/30/1951
Now -- All America can have JESTS: Life, 09/30/1940
Do you ever awaken like this at night?: Time, 08/17/1953
Appointment in Electronia...: Life, 12/20/1943
angry young computer: Newsweek, 10/12/1964
His wife is right... the blowout wrecked the party!: Time, 08/17/1953
ELECTRONIC "FINGERS" to speed up today's automation!: Life, 06/24/1957
Why we chose the NCR computer: Time, 2/23/1962
(All images via Graphic Design Gallery Labs)
13 comments:
Dear Tom: Excellent -- and at just the right speed. love, Tom
Thanks, Tom.
Main frame, slow lane, it seems.
New house motto for the New Ice Age.
Love from here.
I was starting to draft an extremely serious, fairly grim letter, requiring a LOT of concentration. After reading this, I'm having great difficulty restoring concentration and getting back in the grim mood. Completely unsure where to go from here. I'll check back for more installments and believe I'll begin using "mandrill" as an all-purpose response to questions.
Thoughts not my thoughts ways not my ways much to be done little to be known. Unprofitable and dangerous enquiries. Curious doubts impossible to be solved.
God, yes. Hideously familiar...
Or is it just a summing-up of the human condition?
"I can't wait til we're all dead," as the man said.
yet
Tom,
Time to slow down, listen to the birds ( Bromo-Seltzer close at hand, just in case). . . .
5.19
blinding silver circle of sun in pale blue
sky above ridge, birds chirping on branch
in foreground, sound of waves in channel
physics of vision, “meaning”
that is history itself
on the edge of non-identity,
in retrospect, thought
clouds reflected in grey-white channel,
lines of blue sky to the left of point
Well, I suppose if any of us had to spend thirteen years dangling on an iron trellis from the nostril of Honest Abe, meanwhile being continually crept over by shining white flies and suffering from nervous headaches brought on by acid indigestion, feeling compelled almost to the edge of non-identity, we too might be having an off day every now and then.
The photos worked very well with this. Glad that's not my diary. Glad I've never been in Abe's nostril. Wish p and -p would get together.
Otto,
Yeah, it's pretty dark in here. And the hairs -- sharp and sticky, ow.
That little thing before the ~p was not a minus sign but one of those little squiggle things (swung dash, or tilde) like the ones you put before and after your name, ~Otto~.
Among my failing powers it seems is the power to make one of those exquisite graphemes in Blogger, that swung kingdom.
But this will give me something to do to avoid facing necessary reality for a few more lost hours, I'm going back down the rope ladder into the boiler room beneath the sanctuary of the ark of the covenant of the Blogger temple right now to see if I can fashion one of those ~ things.
Oh I love these and your sideways commentary.
Do you ever awaken like this at night?
Every night, yes. In that exact nightie.
xor
I don't have that nightie but I think it's the fear of waking up in it like that that comprises one of Gutzom Borglum's better (?) excuses for never sleeping.
At five o'clock in the foggy morning on the day after the 4th of July, "busy" throwing away old t-shirts...
This is what old people are like I think, it's legendary.
Curious doubts impossible to be solved.
In the 1940s and 1950s, too, it appears, those were around.
I remember that.
Me encantan las publicidades de esa època!
Excelente post!
Aquella época ... Fue mi época!
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