HOW DO YOU SAY THAT ON YOUR PLANET?
I've noticed, over the past few months, that I sometimes lapse into a funk in which my awareness of external stimuli fades out. I don't really hear what's going on around me, my vision-field narrows to a tunnel with darkened walls.
Usually the same sentences start to repeat inside my head.
[Don't worry! I'm not hearing voices or going crazy, I'm just rhetorically beating myself up. I'm simply far far better at it than you could possibly imagine! It's both a talent and a well-honed skill.]
Sometimes this lasts for a few hours.
When Savage Kitten notices it, she asks if there is anything that she can do.
There isn't. What would help is something I cannot and will not ask.
Nor will I discuss it with her.
[Note: Savage Kitten is rather oblivious to moods and body language. It's an Asperger trait of hers which has worked against me in the past. Now I'm actually rather glad of it.]
I have too much respect for her, and this is just something personal.
It's far too late in any case.
But her conversation is often enough to get me out of it.
It is far better to hear other people's voices than one's own.
Problem is, in the middle of the night there are NO places where one can go to let the background noise distract one - sane people just don't populate the darkness.
[On the other hand, in the wee hours a far broader spectrumof entertaining and instructive San Francisco "eccentricity" is visible in the alleyways and dark corners. Don't these folks have coffins to go back to?]
It used to be that doing math, or figuring out the calendar several months in advance, or something similar, would be enough to still the brain to the point where sleep would follow.
That no longer always works. I've figured out the date of every Saturday through 2035 and beyond, in sequence, several nights a week, for the past few weeks.
I've also done full three-D technical drawings in my head for several hundred variations of book cases, storage chests, winding stairways. With cut-away views, specifications of materials, inlay patterns. And the exact placement of screws.
I think I'll try mentally practice Chinese calligraphy in my mind next. Rememorizing the Tang and Sung poems ought to be splendid exercise. Chancellory script.
Or siu syuen (小篆).
Should keep me busy for a while.
After that, Breero, Gerard van den Reve, and Jean-Pierre Rawie.
Insular half-uncial, I think.
Years ago I returned to the United States to get an education.
Eh, I'm still working on it.
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