EMPTY

On this page - little bits of nonsense that don't fit anywhere else.

The Ageing Process

This might look like a list but actually it is a "digital essay", or you might prefer "quantum essay". This new method of composing prose is ideally suited to the auto-format facilities of computer-controlled word processing or the list facility of HTML. Am I serious here?

Ageing: 2012

The following preceded the above.
Do you think I am obsessed with age? Well, isn't everyone?

On reaching a certain level of maturity.

It seems I have reached a stage where I now count the months as once I counted the weeks. A year passes in a period which subjectively feels as three or four months used to feel. When this time around I climbed to the loft to get out the Christmas decorations my whole body felt the repetition of the action, and I experienced the sensation that I had only just climbed up there to put it away from the last time. I am somewhat jolted every time I clip my finger- or toe-nails, in that I always initially imagine them to be growing ever more quickly, until I remember that it is an illusion due to the constant acceleration of subjective time.

It might be supposed that under this condition of living in a condensed time scale, it may be assumed that the end is not merely nigh but looming; and that I might as well meet it head on. But the strange thing is that I am not immediately conscious of the brevity of my remaining life expectancy. Contemplation of it creates no great sense of urgency. Intellectually, the future is finite but subjectively it remains almost infinite. In a sense this is true. My consciousness will, I tell myself, reach to the end of time. I work at convincing myself of this.

Of course, present time is the only tangible reality. It is where we always are, always have been and always will be. The future is simply the present anticipated. The past is only a mental image viewed here and now. I am aware that the present moment progresses but by and large I am content to progress along with it. I might look forward to something loosely planned for tomorrow but then find that I can just as easily continue looking forward to it indefinitely. It is not that tomorrow never comes, it is more a case of it always being there, imminent and attainable but quite satisfying as the subject of continued anticipation.

I anticipate writing more of this tomorrow...