Before I Die


I feel fine, actually, but if the Greeks were right and all men are mortal and even if Google find immortality and I can’t afford it, then my days are limited, and I ain’t done any work on this blog in a long time.

My residency in the past ten years has been bi-local. I think of the Ozarks as my partner and of the area around Puget Sound as my side. (I started to use wife and mistress, but that seemed just not right in the 21st century.) This winter finds me back in (although from my blog you’d never know I left) Northwest Washington, in a camper among firs and cedars and aging hippies again, friends of friends from the Oasis. As usual, I’m the odd one of the bunch: they all use Apple thingamabobs and I’m devoted to the spawn of Android.

That I am able to live in two places (and a thousand places) and that the great divisions between people has become which operating system they use is I suppose a sort of proof that McLuhan and Teilhard were correct. I woke up this morning, made coffee and oatmeal. Added cranberry sauce to the oatmeal because it’s the third day of Christmas, and jacked in. (I wonder whether William Gibson was consciously opposing ‘jacking in’ to ‘jacking off’.)

I have been working, occasionally, on a sci-fi story. But it is damned hard to keep it fi. Every morning there is news of developments which both support the technology I am using in the story, and which make my date of 2039 seem too far into the future. So there are those ‘distractions’ from my ‘work’, which I can easily peg as ‘research’.

But then there’s the rest. Someone who seems interesting, whom I’ve never met in the meat,  comments on a friend’s post, and I’m off exploring art that explores what it’s like to live in the jacked in world. But, boys and girls, because whether you care about how I came to be here or not, I’d like to figure it out myself, so I’m gonna try to bring this little blog up to date. (Can I just merge this with The Bamabong?