Here are the things my mind was contemplating this fine evening...
I was walking home with an empty aluminum can that had a screw-on lid. As it was cold, the air in the can took up less space. The can contracted into the shape of a square. That amused me for some reason. Why did a round shape contract into 4 sides rather than 3 sides or 5 sides? This incites my child-like curiosity... for whatever that is worth.
Another mildly interesting observation....
While still at work, I was talking to my boss. His son has a learning disability. I asked him about it. His description of his son could just as well have described me as a child. His son... has recall issues with words and facts (such as abstractions like dates and phone numbers), has good spatial ability in figuring out mazes, does math by breaking down numbers, and likes nature which he enjoys learning about (meaning he can remember certain types of facts that traditional schooling doesn't care about). What was particularly interesting about this is that my boss reminds me almost exactly of my mom, and deals with his son's disability as my mom did.
Its strange how humans fall into similar patterns as individuals and also in relationships. Is there a connection to why a parent like him (and like my mom) might have a child like his son (and like me)?
Okay, next thought...
I started reading a new fiction book: Pandemonium by Daryl Gregory. I picked it up because it plays off the idea of VALIS from Philip K. Dick. Anyways, the character hears these sounds that no one else hears, and even he has a hard time of explaining the sounds themselves as they aren't normal. It reminded me of certain experiences I've had. I don't hear unusual sounds or anything, but I've had many experiences that are hard to describe.
I don't know about other people's experience. I'd guess that everybody has experiences that aren't easily described, and probably for that reason most people don't try to describe them or maybe even try to think about them. Its easier to just ignore the unusual.
So, about my experiences... I've had certain experiences that are very specific. I've had these experiences at different times of my life but not very often. However, every time I experience them, I very clearly recognize them and remember having had them before. The thing is that its hard to recall these experiences when I'm not having them. They are state-specific memories of specific states of experience.
At this moment, I only vaguely recall one of these types of experiences. The closest I can come to describe it is that its like what I've felt while under the influence of Nitrous Oxide. Its a cool buzzing sensation as if I were a contracted cloud of energy... or something like that. I have no clue where this experience comes from. I don't even remember the last time I experienced it... maybe several years. It doesn't seem to have any rhyme or reason, no explanation or cause. Its just there and then its not.
And the last thought...
For some reason, I was thinking about audio book services. Finding some spoken word on Rhapsody and Last FM reminded me of how much I enjoy listening to people read. Its the main reason I fell in love with Burroughs work. He has an awesome voice.
There is a demand for audio book services. There are many services, but they're not very innovative compared to the music and movie industries. Why is that? My favorite movie service is Netflix and my favorite music service is Rhapsody. Why isn't there a audio book service that compares to either of these?
I'd be willing to pay for such a service if it was comparable to Netflix or Rhapsody. So, why isn't any company willing to offer it? Why does this industry lag behind all others? Is there just not enough demand? Am I unusual? Are most consumers of audio books happy with services that compare to where the music industry was 5 to 10 years ago?
Here I am just wanting to give my money away to some company. Yet, no company seems to want my money enough. Well... their loss... fine, I'll just keep my money. Ha!
That is the end of today's broadcast. Tune in next time for more deep insights and probing observations of life.
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Here is a dream from last night.
I was wandering around a large interior structure. I didn't seem to have a purpose other than exploring a place I was unfamiliar with. There were other people around, but I think I was walking by myself. I can't remember most of it. There is only one particular thing I can recall clearly.
There was a large stage and seating area. I think there were many peole there, but I don't specifically remember them. At the back of the seating area, there was another smaller stage-like structure, and by smaller I mean not normal human-sized. This is the confusing part. I don't know which stage I saw first, but I think it might've been the smaller one. I think I didn't even realize it was a stage at first.
Now for the truly strange part. The small stage had something like pupets on it. I went to investigate. I think that might be when I became aware of the larger stage. It seemed as if the two stages were connected, and I suddenly worried that what I did on the smaller stage would be seen on the larger stage.
Isn't that wacky? The puppets were influencing (controlling?) the people on the stage. Also, the real people on the (real?) stage were just as vague as the puppets.
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He had inherited this old house from a side of the family he didn't even know existed. Apparently, his name had been at the end of a long list of heirs. It was fortunate for he needed a place to stay. His landlord, prior landlord that is, had recently evicted him. He had taken in a stray cat and cats were prohibited... it said so in the lease. So, he arrived at this house, just himself and the cat. The cat promptly disappeared, surely exploring as cats like to do. He decided he should also explore as it was a very large house.
He went from the foyer to a side room to a dining room to a kitchen, every room with doors leading to other rooms and in every room clocks: cuckoo clocks, massive grandfather clocks, simple wall clocks, and even a few hourglasses mostly in the kitchen. He finally came to a room that had display cases of wrist watches, pocket watches, and unusual devices that he thought might be timers. Looking at these time pieces, he realized all of them were stopped. He now wandered upstairs and it was beginning to dawn on him that none of them worked. There was a loose pattern to the times they were stopped at as if each room was not only stale with settled dust but also with settled time.
He now stood in what must have once been a bedroom. A table with a mirror, where he imagined a woman might have sat to comb her hair, had become cluttered with small clocks of the sort found in souvenier shops. These clocks were held by small figurines or enclosed in globes, and they were all set a little before five as if they waited to be called down for dinner.
Walking on, he noticed that each room was captured in its particular moment. When he made his way to the attic, even the clocks in boxes were stuck in their shared crevice of time. He kept mental notes of these times hoping he might discover an order to it all, but he couldn't grasp why a room with clocks set almost in unison at quarter after 9 pm was next to a room with clocks set at times dispersed over the hours of late morning. After a while, he began to notice something or rather a lack of something. No clock or time piece in any room was set between the hours of 2 and 3 in the am.
Continuing to wander, he ended up in a wing of the third floor. He came to the last room he had yet to enter which was at the back of the house. The door was part way open and it creaked as he stepped inside. This room was furnished with just a bed and a bedstand, but more importantly there were no clocks. He was so struck by this oddity that he didn't initially notice the cat curled upon the bedcover. The contented feline purred and squinted up at him.
He suddenly realized how tired he was. The time had slipped by and it was now quite late. Sitting down at the edge of the bed, he tugged his shoes off placing them upon the floor and he unstrapped his wrist watch laying it upon the bed stand. He lay back, the bed felt so comforting. The purring of the cat fell in sync with his own breathing. In a half-dream state, these sounds slowly merged into the clicking of gears and the whirring of springs. As he further settled into the soft mattress, it felt as if the whole house shifted ever so slightly... but he was so deeply asleep within a moment of time that he didn't even hear the clang of chimes and other distant clamoring noise.
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I'm standing in a kitchen, but it isn't familiar. I'm on the phone talking to my mother, but she isn't my mother... she is all mothers, a piecemeal recollection of primal longings for mother. Her voice is, at first, the voice of a mother from a tv show... now, shifting, the voice of the mother of a childhood friend.
I'm so focused on this voice that I'm barely aware of the kitchen, but I sense there are children nearby, my children. I too am a mother.
The cord to the phone lengthens as I feel myself moving (stepping?) backwards across the kitchen floor. In the periphery of my vision, I see flickers of movement. I worry about the children getting tangled in the phone line.
Then, as if stepping back onto stairs that aren't there, I'm falling. It must be the basement I'm falling into... oh yes, there is the door to the kitchen, a framing of light. I clutch the phone tightly, the cord still connecting me to the light above.
"Mother, are you there?" I hear her breathing, her heartbeat. I grip the phone against my cheek as if it were my mother's breast. I can now see where I am. I'm falling down a hole, the walls almost within reach. Faces appear in the walls, strange faces melting into one another. They luminesce like dying lightbulbs, but when they smile and giggle I know they are my children. I still clutch the pone and the line still stretches upwards. I know the cord will only stretch so far before breaking. Should I let go?
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Philip K. Dick
January 2009 
Marmalade
Regina Spektor
The Moldy Peaches
Kimya Dawson
Adam Green
Jeffrey Lewis
Antsy Pants
Play Kate Nash - Pumpkin Soup 
Play The Sky Is Blue - Millions 
