text text text.
at the end of your centuries all that will be left a few lines of text.
i am thinking lately about the continuum of time, my belief (hypothesis, really) that there is no present, that the present is only a headline for the continousity of time, and that a present is it best a continuously disintegrating exhalation. i feel the thrashes of the winds and the passages of the hours as they embrace the same immediacies of those humans who stood on this ground 500 years ago, 5,000 years ago. there are no ghosts, no dead, no living, no unborn, only the totality and heritages of all populations, blowing through the same earthly breezes for millennia. Mannahatta! Mannahatta! Rise up, Mannahatta!
…..
i got new glasses today. progressives. the doctor said that once you hit 40 you have to get these, no exceptions, or something. the girl at the costco who did the eye exam said the same thing, tha tprogressives are normal for anyone over 40, and that you should expect to use these from now until the “plateau“ of your 60s. after the “plateau“ i guess one can expect rapid blindness. i never showed up to my annual eye-gouging session with th retinal surgeon this month. i just decided i was getting a runaround from that guy, and more to the point after 5 years of these visits i had no idea what the diagnosis was, what if anything my problem was, and why i was even present at thhese hours-long torture sessions. when first introduced to the retinal specialist as an apparent necessity i somehow got hte impressoin that the guy i was referred to was the best of the best and that appointments with him were hard to get. i am certain that he is qualified to the hilt but he speaks little english and i am not verifiably certain if i have wet or dry forms of macular degeneration or if i have any form of that condition. the symptoms are all there, no doubt of that, but these are symptoms that can be caused by a variety of behaviours and circumstances. but forget all that, it‘s the guhy who annoyed me over time. a few days prior to the appointment i got a robo-call from the office, a stilted voice interrupting itself with pre-recorded numbers and words, informing me of my upcoming appointment. robo-calls annoy the shit out of me. telephonic robots and robotic telephony and robophony annoy me worse than the Mr. Softee noise pollution truck. nothing makes me feel like a piece of shit more righteously and indignantly than automated voice-recognition prompts on robot voicemail systems, asking me to repeat myself, i don‘t think i understood you, did you mean … fungal aerosol? no, i meant fuck you in the asshole. and so, when i never showed up to the annual appointment i expected a routine call from the esteemed retinal s
urgeon‘s office to reschedule, but no such call came. thye don‘t care, and if they don‘t care about my maculae, then neither do i.
