Warm Recollections #17

More from the Bitz Files

As introduced here, these Warm Recollections are random cullings from thirty years of notes files…

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Idea: if you very carefully excavate a mirror found in an archeological site, sometimes they still have a reflection of the last person to look in it.

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“I am a 21 year old bisexual. I’m an atheist. I’m a Marxist. No apologies.” Nobody cares. And what you are is someone who doesn’t really know what they are, and is covering themselves with labels to make up for that fact.

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That point during the flight when — no matter how diligent the man or woman involved is — they gradually segue from rewriting the treatment or improving the Powerpoint presentation or endlessly refining the five-year-strategic plan… to vaguely dicking around with the application’s preferences instead.

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Unless you’re famous, to your grand-children (however affable your relationship with them) you might as well be a stranger, of actually another species. The gulf is just too wide. They may love you for being what you are — old, kind, cute, frail, present, an occasional ally in the battle with the parents — but they’ll never actually understand, never mind believe, that you were once a real human being.

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I tend to speak rather as my father drives: quickly, with occasional abrupt stops at junctions for a thoughtful hesitation, before veering off at warp speed again.

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