A Space for Oddities

Maslin cartoon of aliens returning for a wallet -

A_Span owes The New Yorker $95.00 ...

A_Span has not yet entirely given up on the idea of productivity apps. But favourable reviews of a productivity app seem, uhm, counter-productive. Would a productive person really have time to tell other people about how productive they are because of an app? And why would productive people claim to having "tried them all" with respect to such apps? Most likely, A_Span does not have time to manage productivity and be productive at the same time.

Once on a family car trip, I voiced a rather plaintive question about where we going and the response was oblivion. I wanted next to know where oblivion was. And so forth. More recently, I came all too close to knowing exactly where oblivion was, in the general neighbourhood of obsolescence. I have spent a lot of time on the details of this site in the past five years. It's been challenging and irritating, intriguing and discouraging, absorbing and frustrating. Having to pull it back from an oblivion caused by my own lack of attention to detail at what proved to be a critical moment was entirely demoralizing. It did make me aware that I wasn't entirely indifferent to the fate and future of this here website-blog thingy. Yet any and all investment of creation/retrieval in this or my other website-blog thingy might well be for effing naught after another software upgrade or two. Curse you, WordPress and also the general trend of ultimately narrowing access to content through development of technology.

The Dept. of Please Find Something Better For Us to Do at the Library of Congress has to figure out what to do with a few googols upon googols of archived tweets. One solution would be to wave a hand vaguely and say "they're over there." If someone takes it upon themselves to recite pi to the thousandth digit, would anyone be able to check their work? If they missed or transposed a few digits, does one interrupt, or wait until the performance has concluded? If the LOC misplaced a few twenty billion tweets, à la NASA and the 200,000 or so degaussed tapes, who could gainsay the loss? How priceless that moment when that plan to save every tweet now and forever, amen was abandoned. And still the disordered are chided for not prioritizing. Ha. (This is how people used to write lol.)

A_Span has been finding a few things lately. Some of them were in their designated spots. A lot were found in the search for something else. Others were just perfect for the indeterminate project they'd been saved for, just in case they might be useful some day. Yet still others were given away, or at least offered up at the end of the driveway as free for the taking, or put in recycling. (Some of those might have had some financial value. Now the value of those still in someone else's barn loft might increase. Consider it my donation to the economy.) One of the most glorious discoveries of the summer so far has been floorspace, the gift granted for the placement of new things by virtue of celebrating the high holy day of bulky waste pick-up. More quaintly, the haul-a-day.

Out, out, out damned old couch/daybed. We had to take off the arms to get it out the door - hey, save those wingnuts, I was just looking for some the other day. Later that morning I went out and retrieved the arms, just in case I ever ... oh, just picture some kitschy half-assed attempt to re-purpose a part of a couch from the 1950s that will probably never exist as more than a fleeting notion. But right now, there's the perfect spot for them upstairs in the barn.

Bulk can be a ponderous shapeless mass, or an organized structure when viewed primarily as a mass, or a spatial dimension. It's a good solid old word, one that will outlive us all. It led me to a new word to add to one of my lists -- bumf (also bumph), which will always exist without purpose.

I need to print this out now. Youse need to get back to work. Ha.

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