Forgetting

Most of us has had the experience of committing something to memory. The multiplication tables; important dates in American history, etc. But how does one go about intentionally forgetting something? The following is from a novel (crime fiction) by Lawrence Block, one of my favorite authors. The protagonist is a contract killer and the excerpt describes how he avoids thinking about the people he kills.

“Years ago he’d learned how to clear his mind after a job. Very deliberately he let himself picture the master bedroom on Caruth Boulevard as he had last seen it. Portia Walmsley lay on her back, stabbed through the heart. Beside her was her unnamed lover, comatose with drink, his fingers clenched around the hilt of the murder weapon. It was the sort of image you’d want to blink away, especially if you’d had something to do with it, but Keller fixed it in his mind and brought it into focus, saw it in full color and sharp relief.”

“And then, as he’d learned to do, he willed the image to grow smaller and less distinct. He shrank it, as if viewing it through the wrong end of a telescope, and he washed out the bright colors, dimming the image to black and white, then fading it to gray. The details blurred, the faces became unrecognizable, and as the image disappeared, the incident itself its emotional charge. It had happened, there was no getting around it, but it was as if it had happened years and years ago, and to somebody else.”

I don’t know if this works. Like everyone, I’ve had moments in my life I’d rather not recall but I’ve never made this kind of conscious effort to forget.

Radio 2018 (KWOS Morning Shift)

Best job (most fun) I ever had was working at my hometown radio station. I think half of the dozen years I worked there were on the morning shift. But it’s been years since I listened to “terrestrial” radio and wondered what it’s like in 2018. So I asked my friend John Marsh if I could sit in a corner of the KWOS studio and watch him (and Dick Aldrich) do the Morning NewsWatch. Very different from 1973. Tightly formatted. All digital and computer controlled.

Updates from Philippe

I’m now thinking putting a rebuilt engine in an old Land Rover is a much bigger challenge than a heart-lung transplant. Couple of brief updates from Philippe:

“Have some more trimming to do on the frame; clutch slave rubbing when engine running; finishing fan and cable; replaced battery cable and clamps (the existing ones were not good.)”

“Got stuck on the ignition switch. Couldn’t get the on-off for the fuel cut-out but finally figured out to install a switch just where the stop-run cable was.”

Watch this space.

Thought Switch

I’m imagining a technology that doesn’t exist. Yet. A lightweight set of electrodes that monitors my brainwaves and transcribes (transmitted via Bluetooth to my mobile device, let’s say) my thoughts. An advanced version of today’s voice-to-text apps. We get to read that “stream of consciousness” at long last.

I imagine printing out a hour’s worth of this mind noise and using a red pencil to circle anything interesting or profound. Alas, there is almost nothing worth noting. Hour after hour after hour. I’ll program an intelligent algorithm to scan a week’s worth of my thoughts. What the hell, let’s to a month! Scanning for something worth saving. Not much, it seems. All that miraculous brain power wasted on “monkey chatter.”

Since I’m imagining yet-to-be-invented tech, how about a drug (or an implant, perhaps?) that will quiet that mind noise, leaving only the input from my senses. (I’m thinking we’ll need a timer switch to re-engage the thought process.)

Click.

I feel the morning sun coming through the hundred foot oak trees that shade my deck. I hear birds — near and far — singing to whomever birds sing to. There’s the sound of the water feature gurgling in the middle of the flower bed. A cool breeze gets a sigh from the Golden Retriever at my feet (say ‘hello’ Hattie). I take a sip of coffee and experience the slightly bitter taste on my tongue. Somehow I know this is a good thing without an accompanying thought. I still have 10 minutes before the noise returns.

Cars too nice to drive

In just a day-and-a-half I saw millions of dollars worth of vintage automobiles. I’m guessing that if you can afford one of these, you can afford several. And cannot resist doing so. But where to you keep a car that costs hundreds of thousands of dollars? We visited one of those places and saw this beautiful collection.

Mr. Wolf has a few clients that pay him to drive their cars once a month to keep them tuned up and ready. Nice work, huh? I asked about security and Mr. Wolf pointed out the difficulty in fencing a car like these.