Thoughtless Young Man

It's not that I don't have thoughts, but I have to acknowledge that they are disconnected and incoherent. I have recently been listening to the new 6CD set by The Caretaker called "Theoretically Pure Anterograde Amnesia" and it is a beautiful and sad evocation of this sense of dislocation and confusion and loss that seems quite close to home (and home seems quite far away - in time, rather than space).

There are a lot of clever people writing blogs who are able to spin this type of stuff out into extremely eloquent posts, to theorise their own lives as a work in progress. I wish I possessed this brand of smarts, but I'm deeply afraid that I'm too much a product of a culture I have come to despise. That sounds a bit self-pitying but there you go.

Nonetheless, I feel quite resolved to try and act in a manner contrary to my keenly-honed short attention span, to try and force my brain to work in increments longer than 30 seconds, to see if it might not be capable of constructing a complex framework of hard-won learning and conceptual rigour. Anything would be better than endlessly swinging back and forth on this tiny little set of monkey bars.

I suppose one traditionally must quietly delete these faltering, tonally uncertain first forays.