11:13 PM ***har**: Busy?
Never mind then
Although I do love talking to blank wall sometimes
Well all the time
Do you talk to yourself?
I do
11:14 PM (Most of my friends do)
I even talk to myself about talking to myself
Like right now
I have nothing to do now
I should do mathematics
(Everyone should)
11:15 PM But home represents an escape from all duty
Including the self-imposed ones
Chatting with you is like writing a blog entry
Without any provision for a revision
11:16 PM And perhaps without any possibility of anyone reading it
I am quite enjoying it
Are you?
I guess you can block me
Do I get any notification if you do that?
I have never been blocked
11:17 PM At least to my knowledge
So either I am popular, or gmail is subtle
I shall go with the second one
But then again, why should you block me?
Or why shouldn’t you?
11:18 PM I am being selfless (way too selfless by my standards)
I am only talking about you
I should talk about myself
11:19 PM I haven’t said anything for the last 1 minute
I am getting slow
Or old
Or both
11:20 PM Those were the days that I could master
The pace was slow and I was faster
Nice one, eh
I thought so
11:21 PM As an Alzeimer-ridden mathematician’s opinion
Is that the right spelling of Alzeimer?
May be not
But who cares
There is a more beautiful poem on the same concept
I loved it
Wordsworth
11:22 PM Ode to the Intimations of the Immortality from the Recollections of Early Childhood
There was a time when the meadow, grove and the stream
And every other common sight
To me did seem
Appareled in the celestial light
11:23 PM The glory and freshness of a dream
It is not now as it hath been of yore
The Moon rises and goes
And lovely is the rose
But the things that I have seen
I now see no more
(There was more in the poem, but I don’t really remember)
11:24 PM I think I shall stop here
I have real people to talk to now
One of my Princeton friends came online
Catch you some other time
It was nice talking to you
The Opinions of an Alzheimer ridden Mathematician
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This entry was posted in The Diary of a Fugitive and tagged cricket, friends, humour, life, mathematics, poetry, quotations. Bookmark the permalink.
At this time of year I always say
Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
Nor the woman in the ambulance
Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly —
A gift, a love gift
Utterly unasked for
By a sky
Palely and flamily
Igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes
Dulled to a halt under bowlers.
O my God, what am I
That these late mouths should cry open
In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers
Very nice. So did you get blocked or not?
Ah, I was the one at the receiving end! :)
I have sometimes talked to blank chat windows. Once for over an hour! But never got blocked. :)