insomnia

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Should you give a fig about a freight train’s Newtons?

It’s Saturday, April 25th, in 2026 AD/CE.  There are only 7 shopping months until Newtonmas (Other holidays are available).

Anyway, I’m very groggy and tired today, though at least I am (for the moment) in slightly less pain than yesterday.  It still sucks, but now it’s more of a neutron star kind of sucking rather than a full scale black hole.

Not that either of those two stellar remnants can be said to “suck” in any atypical way, with respect to gravity.  It is true that the gravitation at the surface of a neutron star is extremely high (to say nothing of the “surface” of a black hole).  But that’s just because everything is so compact, and you can get much closer to the center of gravity than you would be able to do with more spread-out astronomical bodies made of more typical matter.

But, to reiterate a perhaps overused example, if the sun were suddenly (and without any other phenomena that would complicate the picture) to collapse* into a neutron star or even a black hole of the same mass, the Earth’s orbit would not change at all.

There’s no special “supergravity” or whatever some people imagine there might be due to black holes or neutron stars.  It’s just ordinary gravity with a large mass in a small region.  From farther away than the former surface of whatever collapsed into it, the gravity of a neutron star or a black hole is literally indistinguishable from that of the celestial object that became the black hole or neutron star (if it did not lose any mass in its collapse to the latter state, which in reality they almost always do).

How the hell did I get on that subject?  I don’t know.  I guess I’ll see it while editing.

I’m a little out of it this morning, because I took half a Benadryl last night in addition to my other, more typical stuff.  I don’t usually take Benadryl on a work night, but groggy and unpleasant quasi-consciousness that at least helps me to be unconscious is better than not being able even to get to sleep or stay that way for long and being groggy because of that rather than the side effects of an antihistamine.

Something like that, anyway; I’m not sure I made that very clear.

I’ve just now become briefly distracted because a redirected freight train just went by on the track in front of me (going south on the usually-northbound side of the tracks, something for which there were no doubt legitimate reasons, but which still feels quite wrong).  This happens occasionally, and I’m sure the process that leads up to it is somewhat interesting, at least from a certain point of view.

It’s definitely an event that happens only because something has gone wrong somewhere.  The tracks for commuter trains, like the course over which they run, are not really meant for heavy freight trains, so they can’t let them use them very often.  And it was heavy, I’m sure of that. There were numerous tank cars and box cars and all sorts of similar cars carrying potentially heavy stuff.  Even the train’s whistle as it approached was a different, lower pitched sound and had a more somber timbre (sombre timber?) than the usual Tri rail whistle.

I already was pretty sure it wasn’t a regular train when the nearby gates went down to stop traffic, because there’s no scheduled Tri rail train going in either direction at even close to that time on a Saturday.  If it were a behind-schedule train, it would have to have been the first train of the day going south, and it would be quite off its schedule indeed.  Trains only come every hour on the weekend.

I almost wrote “every hour on the hour” there, just for the “sound” of it, but of course it’s not feasible to have a commuter train arrive every hour on the hour at every train station unless the stations are an hour’s traveling distance apart.  That would be one hell of a commute, and not in a good way.

Anyway, I think that’s enough nonsense for today.  I still don’t feel good.  My legs and hips are still channeling low-level but constant DC current (or so it feels), and I am having more and more trouble seeing any point to continuing to try to style my way though all this.  It’s been more than 20 years and things are not improving overall.

It would be more tolerable if I had other people and reasons and points in my daily life, but I don’t, not really.  The comments here below this blog constitute the majority of my socialization, not counting work interactions (which are a different kind of thing, though related).

I’m so bloody tired.

Anyway, have a good weekend if you can.  For goodness sake, cherish the people you love and who love you, especially if you’re lucky enough to be with them every day.  And remember, when in doubt, don’t ask yourself “What would Newton do?”.  Unless you’re a scientist, that is, in which case, yeah, Newton was a decent role model.

Otherwise, he was a terribly unpleasant, vindictive, and spiteful man (and here I thought it impossible for me to admire him more than I already did).  He is reported to have laughed only once in his life, when someone asked him what was the point of studying Euclid.

I sympathize with Newton there.  That is an idiotic question for anyone who is stuck living in and making their way through three-dimensional, locally Euclidean space.

Mind you, when things like black holes and neutron stars are involved, you need to go beyond Euclid, but you can’t readily go beyond Euclid if you’ve never gotten to Euclid***.

*There’s no known process by which this could happen, by the way, so don’t worry about it.  Also, you don’t need to worry about encountering spherical cows or frictionless surfaces**.

**Though I’ve long thought that “Frictionless Cows” might be a good name for a band.

***You don’t need to read Euclid’s actual book to study Euclidean geometry, any more than you need to read Newton’s Principia Mathematica to learn Newtonian physics.  But it’s worth giving them each a tip of the hat in passing, at least, for they are among humanity’s greatest works.

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“I’ll take a quiet life, a handshake of…”

In case anyone feels bereft, I apologize for not doing a blog post yesterday.

Of course, the odds of someone feeling seriously let down by the fact that I didn’t write a post for one day seem vanishingly small.  Nevertheless, it is a physical possibility, so presumably, depending on to what degree the various multiverses exist and to what degree possible things all happen “somewhere”, I’ll act as if someone in some bizarre verse would give a shit whether I am even alive or dead, let alone whether I miss a blog post for a day.

Oh, by the way, the reason I didn’t do a blog post yesterday was because my chronic pain has been so severe and worsening this week‒with relatively atypical symptoms, too‒that on Wednesday night I had a truly hideous night, despite doing all that I could to assuage my pain, and so yesterday I did not go to work.  Therefore, I did not write a blog post.

Honestly, my pain is not much better today, if at all, but I did at least lie around most of the time yesterday, so there was a modicum of physical rest.

It’s terribly frustrating.  I do many things to try to moderate and improve or even resolve my chronic pain, and sometimes it seems to be improving thanks to certain attempted interventions‒this was the case recently, for a very short time‒and then BAM, it comes crashing back into my temporary optimism, sometimes making things worse than before.  For instance, recently, in addition to my usual pain, I’ve felt as though I have electricity running through the entire lower half of my body.

It’s not electricity such that one twitches and spasms‒not often or much, anyway‒but more like a globalized version of the feeling you get in your tongue if you place both poles of a nine volt battery against it, but less pleasant.

So, yeah, that’s not been fun.  And, of course, it still feels as though my upper and lower halves are nearly severed, held together merely by a thread (or perhaps a cable) made of broken bits of bone, frayed connective tissue, and above all, lots and lots of nerves (heavy on the nociceptors, not so good on the proprioceptors and the motor control units).

That sucks, obviously.  It’s also very discouraging, and it really doesn’t help my depression and my urge for self-obliteration.  If I could use my pain somehow to connect to and obtain power through, for instance, the dark side of the Force, as Darth Vader supposedly did in the Star Wars universe, that might at least entail some compensation.  It might even make the process worthwhile, depending on whether the dark side can actually be used to accomplish beneficial things*.

Alas, this real world does not seem to have such characteristics, and based upon our understanding of how that world works, at the deepest levels and at its many intermediate levels, we would not reasonably expect it to have them.  In the real world, pain is useful in and of itself in that it serves as an alarm signal.  But the purpose of an alarm is, in part, to encourage action that makes the alarm cease.

One does not imagine that having a fire alarm in one’s kitchen or living room or bedroom (or all of them) that is stuck on and wails constantly, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, etc., would make a house better to occupy or improve its resale value.  Indeed, one might be inclined simply to move out of that house, even if it is not sold, if nothing can be done to stop the alarm.

I want to move out of this house a lot of the time, especially at frustrating and rotten times like this one.  I don’t have any other house waiting for me, as far as I know.  That’s not really a problem, though.  I just want, as the song says, no alarms and no surprises.  Please.

 

So, that’s about it for the last 36 hours or so.  I’ve been trying to rest my body and do interventions to decrease my pain, but there has been only very limited success.

I also haven’t been playing or singing any music recently, and even my reading has been falling off.  It gets ever harder and harder for me to distract myself, and many of such distractions seem not to be distracting anymore.

I’m so tired of all of this.  It hurts.

Anyway, I’m supposed to be working tomorrow, so I guess I’ll write another post then.  I’ll try to do a better job of hiding my feelings and darkness and whatnot, as I’ve been doing for the most part, lately (I think you can agree that I’ve succeeded to at least some degree).

It doesn’t change my own experience, but at least it can make yours better than it might have been otherwise.  The cliché says that misery loves company, but that doesn’t seem to be the case with me.  I find it much better if at least other people are doing okay, and if I can contribute to that, that’s a good thing.

Honestly, it’s hard for me to see myself doing any good for anyone in the world anymore, but I suppose I used to do so.  I think those days are long gone, though.

I hope you all have a good day.

*And why should it not?  The “good” and “evil” of power is dependent upon what is done with it, after all.  So, unless that power inevitably makes one want to do wholly destructive things, which doesn’t seem quite to be the case in the Star Wars universe, then the dark side is just one means of using the Force.  And we know that light side users can do bad things.

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I have had a dream, past the wit of man to blog what dream it was.

Hello and good morning.

When I started waking up this morning, well before I started writing this post, I think I had a sort of an idea in my head about what sentence I was going to write after the “Hello and good morning” with which I always start my Thursday blog posts.  From there, I had a general notion of where I would go with the day’s writing.

It’s gone now, that whole set of ideas, which will probably not surprise you.  What with getting up, putting out food for cats, showering, dressing, all that jazz, the earlier concept has simply slipped my mind.

And, no, this that I’m writing now is not anything like what I thought I thought about in the night.  It’s good to be optimistic, up to a point‒at least, that’s the common “wisdom”‒but we must definitely try to avoid delusion.

I have, upon occasion, thought of ideas of things to write or whatever during the middle of the night.  When they strike me as important, I actually get up and write them out, usually in the note function of my phone or in an email to myself.  I try to make sure it has some form of enforced legibility, because I learned the lesson from that Seinfeld episode where Jerry woke up with a joke in his head, wrote it down on the pad he kept next to his bed, but then couldn’t read it the next day.

In my case, last night’s/this morning’s thought may well have suffered from the dream illusion of meaning and substance.  There was, as far as I can recall*, no actual content to what I thought I was going to write.  It’s possible, and even probably common, for the brain modules that indicate salience to become active during dreams, while the brain is presumably just sort of sweeping up after the day’s mess, but not in response to any object of one’s attention.

It’s rather akin to déjà vu.  Such free-floating feelings of memory or significance can happen sometimes in people with atypical forms of seizure disorders, but more commonly (though less frequently) they happen in brains without seizure disorders that just hit occasional blips of increased local activation.

This is a bit like what I suspect happens with “rogue waves”, those rare, truly gigantic swells that occur and are reported by sailors and oil rig workers.  I think that, in an ocean that’s vast and full of various waves of various amplitudes and frequencies, every now and then, local constructive interference happens to pile together in a small area and produce a wave of immense combined amplitude, ending up well toward the right end of whatever bell-like curve describes the amplitudes of ordinary ocean waves.  Then the waves separate and the rogue wave is gone**.  There is no specific cause other than just a lot of waves passing through each other in a very large medium (no pun intended).

The workings of a brain can be a large medium indeed, despite being in a rather small space (this time it was deliberate).  Sometimes the neurons just throw out a blip of higher-than-usual activation of, say, a salience module or a memory module, or even a meaning/certainty module.  It is of such stochastic regional hyperactivations that I suspect many, or at least some, religious experiences are born.

So, anyway, though I cannot remember if there was any substance to the half-dream idea for today’s blog post that occurred to me during my way-too-early awakening, let alone what such substance might have been, nevertheless it has conjured a subject for this post, as if by bootstrap levitation.

Such are the functionally unpredictable and chaotic workings of the human brain, or at least whatever kind of brain I have.  I don’t know if other people have similar experiences or not.  Maybe I’m the only one who experiences anything like all of this.

I seriously doubt that, though.  I’ve read plenty of fiction and nonfiction that deals with people talking about their thoughts, about their states of mind, their emotional experiences, and so on.  It all sounds quite similar in overall shape, though the specific details and decorations vary.  We are more alike than unalike.  Otherwise, how could you be reading and understanding my words?

Well, whatever the case as regards what I’ve written above, I hope we are unalike enough for you to have a wonderful day, preferably spending time with people you love and who love you.

TTFN

*Which, admittedly, is quite dubious, since the amnesia of sleep time intrudes at least somewhat.

**This is all just my hypothesis about the situation.  It’s possible that other factors are at play, but I’ve never heard them mentioned.

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This is a very catchy headline.

Good morning.  How’s that for optimism?  It’s 4-11 today, so perhaps I should try to give you some information.  You all remember the old information line, don’t you?  Four, one, one (in the US, anyway).  I think the toll-free/long distance version used to be 800-555-1212 or something like that.

I don’t know if those lines are active and maintained anymore.  I know I haven’t used either one for probably more than 2 decades‒by which I mean it’s been more than 2 decades since I used them.  I don’t mean to deny having used the line for a stretch as long as 2 decades.  I hope it goes without saying that I have never just stayed on the 411 line for decades at a time without stop.  That would be weird.

Speaking of weird, I want to apologize if yesterday’s post was too weird for anyone.  I don’t plan these in advance, as you may know, so they become a kind of stream-of-consciousness exercise.  Not that I didn’t find the stuff I wrote interesting; obviously I did at some level, because it’s certainly there in my head.

Of course, I do edit each post (three times) before posting, and yesterday I even did some relatively elaborate figuring (though the math was really just basic arithmetic, and I messed that up when working out the surface area of the Earth because when I squared the radius, I didn’t square the pi in the denominator of my expression for the radius).

To try to cut myself some slack, it was early in the morning after all, and I was going more speedily than was probably advisable, since I only have a limited amount of time to do and post these things in the AM.  I suppose we all have a limited time every morning; if anyone out there has unlimited time in the morning, please let us know.  That would be a staggering phenomenon.

Of course, if time is continuous and infinitely divisible (our best understanding of the universe seems to say it is not, but that’s not absolutely certain) then one could, in a sense, have unlimited time, but only if one could speed up without limit, and we know you can’t do that.

Anyway…

I have been doing some exercises on Brilliant dot org this week‒at least one little set a day‒so that’s an accomplishment of sorts.  I’m in the midst of several courses, but lately I’ve mostly been doing the vectors course‒it’s really just a basic review for me so far, but reviewing is good, because I want to get on to linear algebra and tensors and matrices because there is a question in Special/General Relativity that I would like to solve for myself if I am ever able.  That’s probably a pipe dream, because my attention meanders to too many other things too often.

That’s why my former routine to write my fiction during my commute worked‒it wasn’t a debatable thing, it was just what I did every morning.  That worked pretty well, or, well, at least it was productive.  I don’t know if my stories are actually good to anyone else but me, and honestly, neither does anyone else, in general.  It’s possible (however unlikely) that my books and stories are the greatest works of literature ever produced on Earth, but since next to no one has ever read any of them, almost no one will ever know.

Of course, now I have this routine, which I guess one could continue to call productive.  It’s certainly productive of relatively frequent blog posts.  That plus about ten bucks’ll get you a descamisado coffee* at Starbucks®.  It’s not as though anyone is ever going to while away an afternoon reading my old blog posts, but it’s just conceivable that someone might read one of my novels or short stories some day when they are bored.

Oh, well, whataya gonna do?  I’m very tired and sapped of motivation to do much of anything.  I wish I could even imagine a positive future for me, but honestly, I don’t really imagine the future at all.  You might think that’s just good “mindfulness” or, well, a “living in the present moment” thing.  But I think it’s just the current set-point of that function in my brain, to no credit of my will.

Anyway, I’m tired, and not just of work or the blog.  I want to go to sleep, but that’s one of the most difficult things for me to do.

I hope all of you, at least, have a peaceful and good rest of your weekend, and a good rest of your life while you’re at it.  As long as I’m hoping, I might as well hope big, right?

*I’m pretty sure that’s not actually one of their drink names or sizes, but they do use such pretentious and absurd names for the sizes of their beverages that they should be ridiculed mercilessly until they go back to “small”, “medium”, and “large”.  Do coffee shops (or the equivalent) in other countries use slightly twisted versions of the English “small”, “medium”, and “large” to describe the sizes of their beverages?  Probably some of them do.  People are so stupid.

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“I find myself growing fatigued, Doctor.”

Hey, everybody.  It’s Tuesday, and here I am writing another blog post.  Huzzah.

I’m rather tired today, which I guess shouldn’t be that surprising, given that I have chronic trouble sleeping.  Still, some days hit me worse than others, for reasons that are probably multifactorial and are certainly difficult to tease apart.  And today, so far, seems to be one of the “I feel more tired than usual by a noticeable margin” days.  You’ve probably all had such days, though you may not have used that specific term for them*.

There is some good news, news that in a way is not world news but is extraterrestrial news, at least temporarily:  the Artemis mission has flown ‘round the far side of the moon, and in so doing has brought humans farther away from Earth even than Apollo 13 did; this is now the farthest humans have ever been.

It’s quite momentous, but the fact of this mission and its (so far) success, raises questions.  I suspect the answers to them are disappointingly trivial, however.  For instance, why was there such a delay in returning to the Moon after the last time in 1972?  The answer to that is at least somewhat clear when one poses the related question:  why did we work so hard to go to the Moon back in the late 60s/early 70s?

Of course, the main reasons were:  primate dominance/hierarchy drives, writ large across the planet.  The Apollo program was, in a barely metaphorical sense, the ultimate dick-measuring contest, and the USA won that one pretty clearly at the time (“Mine reaches all the way to the Moon and back, how ‘bout yours, motherf#cker?”).  The fact that the Soviet Union basically admitted defeat in that region in that round is but one piece among the mountains of evidence confirming that, yes Victoria, humans did indeed land on the Moon.

It wasn’t for purely scientific reasons, though.  In fact, the science at the time took a very distant, rear-facing-storage-area-of-the-station-wagon place compared to the politics that was in the driver’s seat.

Alas, human nature being what it seems to be, perhaps truly amazing innovation and advancement is simply much more likely to occur during conflict (literal and figurative).  Maybe even the Beatles, for instance, were so great at least partly because of the (usually friendly) competitiveness between John and Paul, and also George once he found his considerable mojo.  Ringo was the Samwise Gamgee/Bodhisattva of the group, which seems appropriate for a drummer.

Humans presumably have always had the capacity to make the many scientific discoveries and technological advancements that have occurred in recent centuries.  But they needed to have an impetus before anyone would get anything done.  The two strongest inherent drives are survival and reproduction, and those drives interact and accumulate as humans gather in larger numbers, and they sublimate into national competitiveness‒for wealth and power, for luxury, for prestige, for all that nonsense.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could deliberately control our motivation?  We have crude means of affecting it already‒caffeine and various other stimulants‒but these are blunt yet jagged tools.  In principle, microelectrodes could be implanted into something like the nucleus accumbens or the reticular activating system or more well-chosen, finely tuned areas of the nervous system.  Then one could use a remote control to give oneself motivation when desired (?).  Presumably, other mental states could be manipulated, encouraged, discouraged, etc.  Just watch out that no one else gets their hands on your remote control!

Maybe it would be better to have a helmet with various directed electromagnets to stimulate specific brain regions at will.  This process is already in use in relatively simple form**, but it could be honed and made more precise and more powerful and useful.  It would be nice to be able to have large-scale motivation that didn’t require the tendency toward large-scale destruction.

It may be an inevitable challenge.  Powerful forces can inherently have very good and/or very bad effects depending on circumstances and, of course, depending on what one means by “good” and “bad”.

Not to say that we couldn’t rather easily be doing things better than we are.  We could.  But…it seems we aren’t sufficiently motivated to do so.

*If you did, that would be truly surprising.  It would be so surprising, in fact, that if you told me it was the case, I would more strongly suspect some manner of deception or illusion or delusion or cognitive bias than that it was actually true (this is reminiscent of Hume’s test for the veracity of supposed miracles).

**And is involved in the plot of my book(s) Unanimity, Books 1 and 2.

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“Like”, “comment”, and “share” (if you feel like it)

I’m very tired this morning.  By which I mean I’m more tired even than usual.  My head is a bit foggy—more so than usual, again—and I feel like I just belong lying down inert, perhaps in an open-topped coffin.  I’ve occasionally thought that they looked like good places to sleep.  It seems a shame to waste them on people who are already dead.

It’s Wednesday today, and I don’t think I’m going to have anything nearly as thoughtful to say as what I wrote yesterday, which was at least rather “deep” if not particularly useful or helpful or interesting to any of my readers.  I did get an interested comment on my take on one of the reasons mindfulness is useful, and that’s always nice.  I’d love to encourage greater feedback from more of my readers, here on the site in the comments, but I don’t know what to do to encourage them [I decided just to do a little cajoling in the headline, in case that works].

Probably there is just some percentage of people who tend to comment, no matter the situation.  It’s a bit like the long-known “fact” (which may or may not be a true fact) that every advertisement, from flyers/mailings to commercials, actually elicit a response in only about two percent of people who interact with it.  I suspect it’s probably similar with things related to blogging and social media and the like.

One sees it most readily on places like YouTube.  The number of views of a video is almost always something like an order of magnitude greater than the number of likes (and often it’s larger than the number of subscribers), and that’s still larger, though by a ratio that’s not as clear to me, than the number of people who comment (let alone share).

My own YouTube videos (and those of my published songs) are poor examples, or perhaps one might say “poor samples”, not representative of the phenomenon as a whole.  I have a number of “views” on my music videos that is generally a couple of orders of magnitude larger than the number of “likes”, but I know why that is.

Almost all of those views are from me, because I put my songs in my YouTube music playlist, and so I have listened to them often, back when I used to ride my scooter to work and back.  I had a lovely Bluetooth enabled helmet.  I like to listen to songs and sing along in a car, or similar, when I’m on my way places*.  So I’ve listened to my own songs probably orders of magnitude more times than everyone else put together has listened to any of my songs.

It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it?  I’m also the one who has bought more copies of my books—because I gave copies to the people in the office—than everyone else put together, I’m fairly sure.

As for this blog, well, I get a higher number of likes relative to number of readers than I do with anything else, and I even recently have been getting a comment or so most days, which is very nice.  There’s at least some interaction.  It would be nice if I could reach a larger audience, but I’m not terribly good at self-promotion.  I am pretty good at self-denigration, though.  In fact, I’m one of the best there is at it!

Ha ha.

Well, like the song says, it’s all just a drop of water in an endless sea.  Or, it’s all just spit in the ocean** as more people probably say.  My spit may be more purulent than average, but it’s all still just spit.

Anyway, I don’t know what else to discuss today.  I’m very tired and worn out and I’m in ongoing pain that only responds somewhat to all the mitigating things I try to do, at least so far.  I’ve been through a quarter of a century of trying, and I have not been passive nor uncreative nor ignorant in my attempts.  As those reading might notice, I’ve thought about this matter a lot.  You probably would also if you were in chronic pain for nearly half of your life (so far).  It has a way of garnering your attention.  It’s built that way.

It’s interesting to note that shortly after I’m sixty, if I’m still alive***, I will have been in essentially constant pain for half my life.  After that it will become a majority (unless I’m cured at some point along the way, of course).

I occasionally (not often, though, because it’s too disheartening) wonder what my life would be like, what I would be like, if not for my chronic pain.

Things would almost certainly be vastly different.  I cannot be certain that they would be better—there are probably at least a few things that would be worse.  But it seems likely that my life would be much better overall, if only because I wouldn’t have a huge chunk of my will and energy stolen by being in pain all the time.  That constant pain really does make everything else harder.

But no matter the state of the rest of my life, at least one thing would be true (by “definition” in this case), and that is that I would not be in pain every fucking day of my stupid useless life.

Surely that must be worth something.  It would not be worth not having my children exist, but almost everything else would be worth trading.  I sometimes think of it as parallel to a line from Me and Bobby McGee:  “I’d give all of my tomorrows for a single yesterday, holding Bobby’s body next to mine.”  It’s nice poetry, albeit a bit weird to think about temporally.  But in my case, I think of it as basically saying I would gladly give up some significant fraction of what would otherwise have been my future if I could be out of pain.

But, of course, my future is less valuable to me now at least partly because I am in pain.  If I were not in pain, ironically, the future would be much more valuable, since it would be at least somewhat less uncomfortable.  If I could be free of depression, and the tendency thereto, that would make things better still.  That might even constitute a future worth having.

Yeah, yeah, I know, wishes, horses, manure, beggars riding, dogs and cats living together, watermelon, cantaloupe, rutabaga, yada, yada, yada.  I’m wasting my time and yours.  And I’m writing too much, because I’m using the lapcom, and I’m not saying or doing (or being) anything at all worth saying or doing or being.  This is all just stupid.

I hope you all at least have a good day.  I would not mind if this were my last one.

*I can’t do it anymore because I don’t ride or drive anywhere anymore, so I am not “alone” when commuting anymore.  I’m also not alone at the house.  It’s really quite disappointing.  I like to sing.

**This is a bit amusing:  I made a typo when I first wrote that phrase, and it was rendered as “spit is the ocean”, which seems almost like some vaguely deep thought about how oceans are lived in, swum in, excreted in, and bled in by numerous living creatures.

***Right now that seems a horrifying prospect.

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Pain, pain, go away…and don’t come back some other day

I’m writing this post on my smartphone today, because I decided not to bring the lapcom back with me on Saturday.  I was very tired and sore and worn down from the week and felt that even that small extra weight was more than I cared to carry.

I got at least a bit of physical rest yesterday, but my mental rest was poor, and was somewhat disrupted by a few seemingly minor things that happened.  Worse, though, is the fact that I tried to sedate myself on Saturday night somewhat, but still woke up by two in the morning, after maybe four hours’ sleep.

It’s quite frustrating, as I’m sure you can well imagine.  I suppose it’s better than being one of those people who never seems to be able to wake up on time or to get places on time.  I don’t know how such people would have survived in the ancestral environment.  I suppose it’s just as well for them that they don’t live in such an environment.

So, anyway, I was both rather stressed out and unrested on my “day off” and now I’m no better rested, because I slept even less last night.  Also, my pain, which doesn’t like to become too boring (except in describing the character of the pain), has shifted its focus, and now it is my entire lower half (umbilicus down) that is achy and sore and doesn’t want to move.  Neither side is worse, but neither side is better*.  Although my left middle back and side are way more tight and sore than the right, and my left shoulder still has that weird, seemingly neurological, stiffness and pain.

It would be nice to be able to walk to the train this morning; the weather is not bad for it, and it would be a slight money-saver, though a time loser (but my time is mostly wasted time, anyway).  Unfortunately, I don’t know that I am physically up to the task, and I fear it might exacerbate my pain.  That’s never a good thing.

I wish I still had a scooter, or one of those electric scooters or bikes‒or better yet, that I could ride the bike(s) I have without having to fix their tires and such.  Maintenance of such things is really difficult for me, though; it’s not difficult to do as it were, i.e., the tasks are not in themselves particularly challenging physically or with respect to knowledge or dexterity.

It’s a matter of will in a sense.  Also, these kinds of tasks seem to do something akin to or analogous to creating an allergic reaction:  they make my mind itch horribly, and itching is, of course, a kind of pain, and my mind only has the reserves to deal with so much pain at any given time.

I seem able to regenerate less and less of that reserve each day‒either that or just my reserves are constantly being depleted at a rate faster than they can recover and so there are no “reserves”, just a base rate process that is in the net negative on average every day, and which will eventually run out and that will be that.

I don’t know what will happen then.  I’m honestly surprised that it hasn’t happened already.  Maybe it has.  Maybe this is me without any actual capacity to deal with anything other than those things which are more painful for me not to do.  Hmm.  That’s a vaguely interesting thought.

Whatever the best description is, I am very worn out.  More and more‒or so it seems right now‒I have no sense of any future for me.  I can’t even readily imagine my own future; I can’t see how a future can possibly happen that entails anything but quietly catastrophic dissolution.  And, of course, my pain doesn’t help my mood disorder(s) and my mood disorder doesn’t help it.  It’s another one of those cycles that has a vicious streak a mile wide.

Whenever I mention a vicious cycle, part of me nearly always thinks of the words “viscous cycle”, and I think vaguely about what might constitute a viscous cycle.  If any of you have any amusing thoughts about that, I would be delighted to hear them.  I could use a bit of a laugh today.

I’m really worn out, and it’s only Monday.  I don’t know why I bother.  I mean, I could give causal explanations, of course‒all things that happen in the ordinary world have causes‒and my descriptions would probably be fairly accurate and correct, though probably incomplete.  But as for reasons, that’s another matter.  Coming up with those is more difficult, and some of them are quite tortured.

In Man’s Search for Meaning, the author and psychologist Viktor Frankl points out the notion, not original to him but poignantly and painfully rediscovered by him in a profoundly visceral way in the concentration camps of Nazi Germany, that a person can endure nearly anything if they have a purpose, a reason, a meaning.  But such meaning is not always there to be found, and I don’t want to try to embrace a false one; and though it is possible for people to make meaning for themselves, my knack for that has worsened over time.

Again, the pain wears away so many things, as it has also stripped away so many people and so much property and so many accomplishments in my life.  I think I would be quite a different person, or at least there would be a real difference in balance in my personality, if I could be free of anything but more ordinary pain.

I wouldn’t even complain about being “comfortably numb”.  I know pain is biologically important, of course, but mine has gone well into the region of diminishing marginal returns, then rounded into negative marginal returns, and its net value crossed the x-axis downward a long time ago.  It might be nice to experience at least a brief period of having pathologically too little pain.  Even if it would make me vulnerable to injury and illness, I wouldn’t mind much.  It’s not as though I don’t crash up against illness and injury (in some sense) every day anyway.

Oh, what’s the point?  I’m sorry to bore you all with this nonsense.  I really should just call it quits, because this is at least as pointless as anything else I do, and that’s saying a lot.  It almost certainly does not do the world any net good, and I’m not sure whether it does me any good.

I guess I’ll keep doing it until it becomes more painful to do it than not to do it.  Or until I die, I guess.

*I sometimes like to indulge a clever paradoxical descriptive trick I picked up from Piers Anthony by saying something like “each leg hurt worse than the other one”.

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Happy Valentine’s Day, you filthy animals.

Well, guess what.  It’s Saturday now, and I’m writing a blog post, which can only mean that I am working today.  At the last minute, the schedule of the office was changed and now we’re working.  And we’re supposedly going to be doing this now every other (meaning alternating ones) Saturday.  But, of course, I worked last Saturday.  And who knows how things will change in the future?  I’m pretty sure not even the boss knows, because he changes the specifics somewhat irregularly, though there are always colorably reasonable purposes behind such changes.

I suppose I could merely have said, “No, I’m not coming in this weekend.  I worked last weekend, I had to walk to the bank after work and I caused my knees and my pain in general to flare up badly, and that problem continues.  I need a fucking break.”  But, of course, I’m not really built quite that way.  I have been too strongly trained to operate on the approach that to shirk going to work is to be a jerk*.

So, here I am, at the office, and it’s the middle of the night.  That’s right, when it got to be time to leave, I was in too much pain to want to ride the train‒it’s not comfortable to sit in, and I usually have to go to the upper levels to find a seat, which is a little exacerbating and occasionally exasperating‒and I didn’t want to pay to Uber back to the house like I did on Monday and then Thursday for the above reasons, so…I stayed here in the office overnight.

I’m tired of being in pain, I can tell you that.  I wish it were the sort of thing one could simply “get used to”, but biology does not tend to select for creatures that can get used to and ignore pain.  That would defeat the whole usefulness of pain.  Make no mistake:  like fire alarms, pain was and is (and probably always will be) terribly useful.  And “terribly” has more than one legitimate meaning here.

The trouble is that in the modern world, we suffer from and yet survive injuries and disorders that would almost never have been survived by our ancestors, and we can live on with the consequences of these injuries and illnesses for decades, but our nervous systems don’t have any clear function that suppresses or diminishes pain after a while.  There’s no selection pressure favoring such a thing.  Even for our ancestors who might have survived to have chronic pain, that problem tended to develop after peak reproductive years had already passed, and so evolution literally could not and cannot detect the issue.

Indeed, it’s just barely conceivable, though by no means demonstrated, that it might be good for male humans who have injuries that hamper them to feel the pain worsen, to have it lead to them removing themselves from the population in one way or another.  When they can no longer be physical providers, in order to increase the share of resources for their offspring and their other kin, they can kill themselves, directly or indirectly, giving the genes they share with close relatives that harbor that tendency a selective advantage.  This is hypothetical, bordering on speculative, but it might make some sense.

This could also be related to female humans being better suited to endure long-term pain than males, since matrilineal support among human tribes is common***, but that’s getting ever more speculative.

Don’t get me wrong; the ideas are plausible.  But it’s just when one’s ideas are strongly plausible‒but not specifically tested or backed by clear and specific evidence‒that one must be especially harsh and strict with oneself.  It’s comparatively simple, and psychologically rewarding, to come up with plausible and logical hypotheses, but even if one is very smart, most of one’s hypotheses are going to be incorrect.  Whether you’re more Popperian or more Bayesian, the crucial usefulness of testing a hypothesis to try to refute it or to see how your credences shift is inescapable.

This mildly interesting digression doesn’t change the fact that I am in searing pain lately, and it doesn’t seem to diminish much for long.  I’m already prone to dysthymia/chronic depression (veering into the acute stage frequently) and anxiety with at least some obsessive compulsive patterns, all of it occurring in a nervous system that is…atypical from the start.

I hate the world.  I hate my body.  I hate the twisted mockery my life has become.  I hate large parts of my mind (but not all of it).  I hate being around people.  I hate being alone.  I really just ought to stop the whole fucking ride and get off.  I just need to work up the nerve and the commitment.  I’m getting there, believe me.

Anyway, I hope you’re having just a lovely Valentine’s Day.

*And to rhyme all the time is to act like a slime and be covered with grime**.

**I know, none of that makes sense.  It’s not really meant to make sense.  I just accidentally did some internal rhyming in a sentence and that stimulated me to do more of it.

***There are good biological reasons for this as well.  Mothers, and therefore maternal grandmothers, all know whether a child is their child or not, so it’s easier to know that it’s a good idea to spend effort and resources on those descendants.  Males, in general, can not be as certain.

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[Insert blog post headline here]

I really feel horrible today.  That’s not intended to mean that I feel that I am horrible today, though it doesn’t preclude that, either.  I more often than not think that I am horrible.  But today, in addition to that, I feel rotten.

And that word I mean almost literally.  If someone told me‒with at least a colorable claim to knowledge‒that the pain I have is because parts of my body are decomposing while I am still alive, I would not immediately dismiss the possibility (though I consider it quite unlikely).

We had a bad (and weird) day at the office on Saturday, then I had some things I had to do afterwards that required a great deal of walking.  It was a bright day but still cool out, though, so that was not so bad; it reminded me of walking places with my friends when I was young, though I have no such friends now.

Anyway, I had to do something Sunday morning that required a bit of walking, too‒not as much, but significant.  I was feeling okay up until that point.

Well, I don’t know for sure what happened, but by early afternoon, it all hit me, and the entire lower half of my body, and to some degree my left shoulder and arm, were in increasing pain.  My left hand was also cold, which demonstrates some autonomic aspect to the pain, which is not too surprising.  I have tried to medicate it with the resources I have available, while trying to avoid permanent liver and/or kidney and/or stomach damage.  Alas, my success has been limited.  Because of my pain, among other things, I hardly slept at all last night; it was a bad sleep even for me.

Sorry.  I’m sure this is all hideously boring.  Believe me*, it’s even more boring to be the one describing it.  I don’t really know what I’m going to do about it, though.

At this stage of my life, all I wanted and expected was to be able to come home after work or on the weekends and just be with my family‒my wife and kids and such.  But largely due to my chronic pain, that is all a long-vanished fantasy.  Nobody wants me to come home to them, and no one certainly wants to come home to me.  I don’t even want to come home to me.

In some ways I don’t have to come home to me, since I don’t consider where I live now to be home.  It’s just a shit-hole in which I exist when I’m not at work or en route to or from work or going to the store or the bank or whatever.  I haven’t felt like I was home anywhere for at least the last 13 years, and probably really for some years before that.

And I’m not very good at taking care of myself, so my life tends to be a mess when I’m left to my own devices, and that tends to get worse over time‒it’s like my very own, personal, bespoke version of the second law of thermodynamics.

So, yeah, I’m not feeling well at all, but there’s not a whole hell of a lot that I can do about it.  And my depression and the other mental/neurodivergent shit doesn’t help.  It’s not like there are any programs or anything available near me.  I couldn’t afford one if there were, and I have no insurance, and as far as I know I have no secret inheritance anywhere.

I mean, come on, who’s going to leave an inheritance to me?  I tend to drive away anyone I care about (not deliberately).  I think you can grasp why that might be just from reading the smattering of my thoughts that I share here.  Believe it or not, I do not share the worst, most self-hating (or world-hating**) thoughts that go through my mind.

Okay, well, that’s enough for today.  I will go to work because there’s really nothing better for me to do; I was at the house all day yesterday and it has not made me feel better, so I don’t see why another day there would improve things.

I hope this is the start of a good week for you, at least.

*Or don’t if you don’t want to, I don’t really give a flying fuck at a rat’s ass whether you believe me.

**To be fair to the world‒which probably deserves better than my judgment‒one of the main things I hate about it is that I am in it.  I suspect I would find it much more pleasant if this were not so***.

***Well, okay, I wouldn’t find it better if I were not in it, since I wouldn’t be there to find it better.  But my projection of my perception into the world as it would be without me in it certainly seems no worse than the world as it is now, and it would have the relative benefit of my absence.  I think my conclusion is therefore reasonable.

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どうも ありがとう Mister ロバあと

It’s Wednesday the 4th of February (02-04-2026 in the US).  The best I can currently think of to say about today’s date is that it is composed entirely of even digits‒twos, zeroes, a four, a six‒which is at least uniform in a sense.  But it’s rather boring, too.

Admittedly, most people probably find any such evaluation of dates with respect to numerical patterns boring.  I would apologize, but it’s not as though anyone is forcing anyone else to read my blog.  If someone were doing so (and I wouldn’t necessarily try to stop them), I’d like to think I would have a far larger circulation than I have.

As it is, my circulation is roughly 5 liters.  Ha ha.  That’s a (lame) joke regarding the volume of blood in a typical adult human body.

While I may not feel as though I am a member of the same species as most humans, I recognize that my gross physiology is basically the same, and so my blood volume should be comparable.  My body just doesn’t seem to work quite as well as that of the average person, at least in some senses.  For instance, my chronic pain has continued to attack me with exceptional aggression over the past several days; yesterday was particularly bad, and today is not shaping up well so far.

Not that this is anything new.  I’ve been in chronic pain every day for a quarter of a century now (though I suppose when it had just begun one would not call it “chronic”), if my memory is accurate, which it usually is.  That’s just a bit longer than my youngest has been alive.  It’s not pleasant (though my youngest is), and at least partly in consequence of my chronic pain, neither am I.

I do think that my outlook and my personality would be much better if I did not have pain every day.  I would probably sleep better, as well.  I almost certainly would not have gotten involved in trying to treat other people’s chronic pain in less than ideal circumstances, and so would have avoided at least some catastrophes that happened because of that (apparently misguided) intention.

Still, I’ve been prone to depression since I was in my early teens, well before the onset of my chronic pain, so maybe I’ve always been unpleasant.  And though I didn’t know it, I’ve had ASD all my life (even after the heart-based ASD I had was corrected through open-heart surgery when I was 18).

That’s a weird coincidence of acronyms, isn’t it, those two kinds of ASDs in one person*?  It can be rather confusing when the same acronym signifies two quite different things.  Still, there are only so many 3-letter acronyms available.  The maximum number in English is 26 to the 3rd power, or 17,576.

You might think that ought to be more than enough for there to be no overlap, but of course, acronyms aren’t merely randomly chosen letters.  They need to signify something specific in order for them to be useful, and far more words start with A or S or D, for instances, than start with X or Z or Q.

It’s a bit like dealing with words in general.  In principle, a word of a particular length (let’s use the variable x to signify that length) in English could be any one of 26 to the xth power possibilities.  But English is not a random cipher, and there are many possible orderings of letters than are not “allowed” in English, because they don’t produce any plausible sound.  English is, of course, a written version of a spoken language.  If a word can’t even be pronounced, it’s not much of a word.

One cannot, for instance, have a word that consists of all consonants (certainly none are coming to my** mind).  One could produce strings of consonants that could be sounded out, I suppose; one could for instance pronounce the string “mrndl” pretty readily, I think.  But that’s just generally unwieldy, and in some languages it cannot be done.

In Japanese, for instance, all but one pair of kana representing sounds/syllables (hiragana for native words, katakana for imported words) are of the “consonant-vowel” sound type (e.g., ha, ke, ni, su, to, etc.) or just vowels (e.g., a, i, u, e, o).  Only the “n” syllable stands alone (sometimes pronounced as almost “m” depending on the context) and it occurs only at the ends of words.  Thus, in the game of shiritori***, if a player says a word that ends with “n”, they lose, because the next person cannot possibly begin a subsequent word.

How did I go from discussing the uninteresting digits of today’s date to the game of shiritori?  I suppose I’ll find out when I do my editing.  It is strange, though, even to me.  I can only imagine how bizarre and confusing it must be for others to read my blog posts.  With that in mind, I’ll cease this particular crime against humanity or against logic or reason or whatever for now.  Please accept my apologies, and hopefully you will have a good day.

[P.S. The above headline would be transliterated as “Doumo arigatou, Mister Robaato”, which can be meant as “Thank you very much, Mister Roboto” (as in the Styx song) or as “Thank you very much, Mister Robert.”  Curious, ne?]

*Actually, there is a higher incidence of cardiac ASDs, as well as several other atypia that I have (such as a cavum septum pellucidum) in people with the neurodevelopmental version of ASD than in the neurotypical population.  Interesting, isn’t it?

**Wait a moment‒the word “my” is superficially composed of two consonants, isn’t it?  Well, in a sense that’s true, but this is one of those cases we were taught about in elementary school in which the letter “y” acts as a vowel.

***(しりとり)  In this game, one person says a word, and the next person has then to say another word that begins with the same syllable with which the previous word ended.  It goes on until one player cannot think of a word that hasn’t already been used or until someone uses a word ending with “n”.