living computation
I hate writing
I hate writing.
I hate writing but I love having written.
I hate writing but I love rewriting.
I hate writing.
I hate being ordinary. I hate being typical. I hate admitting I’m ordinary. I hate admitting I’m typical.
I hate the bullshit and I love the genuine. I hate bullshitting but I fear being genuine. Age is not years but depth of bullshit. Be careful, you can get old in one breath. I hate the bullshit.
I love genuine but I hate honest. Honest is something no one is ever just being. When genuine can be found, it is never wrong. Honest is a weapon, a shield and a club; weapons have uses but we don’t have to like it.
I love focusing but I hate staying focused. I hate finishing but I love starting.
I love helping but I hate obligation.
I hate being typical but I love being loved.
Does writing pay off: Do I love having written more than I hate writing? Does writing have a positive Return On Love Investment?
The hate of writing lasts only until the writing is done, but the love of having written goes on forever.Hey, let’s science it upPop Quiz: Pick one:
- Cargo cult science
- Fake it ’til you make it
where that ∑ thing (‘sigma’) means ‘add it all up, from the bottom to the top’, so even if a day’s worth of Hate(writing) is much bigger than a day of Love(written), the hate only accumulates from ‘started’ to ‘finished’, but the love keeps piling up to infinity, to
In 1656, John Wallis modified a Roman variation for 1000….
Or, well, until I die.. One never knows, Beware any occurrence of this symbol!
The best way to read ‘’ is: “Where the whole idea falls apart.” could be
right around the corner. In which case writing might not actually be
worth it, unless I’m around to enjoy it long enough after it’s
finished.
So hey, sciiiiience says: If I’m ever going to do it at all, I really ought get right down to it.
I hate writing but I love having written.
I hate finishing is half of why I love rewriting. Can you finish before a deadline? Not me. Writing isn’t done until the deadline; until it’s pulled from my hands; until it’s out; until it’s published.
Then I can live with it.
OK, this is my Summer Experiment 2004: New writing, new material, five hundred words or up, out every Tuesday morning ’til August. Or you can tell me I’m just another sorry loser.
Perhaps just a touch more structure, more constraint, than a real blog blog, maybe, trying to preserve some slim chance of finding an ending. So, less events of the day, more trying to sneak up from every direction on those few persistent themes that crash and mix and reverberate around my head.
Call it Living Computation.
