Nor is it love. I don’t think, at least.
I have lots of ideas for how this story will end, but it’s taking a while to sort them and pick the ones that both make sense and I like.
I have a feeling I will end up writing multiple endings and letting readers choose their favorite. But then again, I might not.
Thanks for your your patience and continue maintaining up the excellent function while you wait.
“It’s between those two places that the most remarkable, creative ideas are found. Like flying in an airplane, or using a phone that can connect to the Internet wirelessly, or being able to change the course of history with just a few words.”
This one has even more subtlety and possible meaning than most of the blog spam I receive (which is usually highly meaningful already). It my even be beyond my intellectual abilities to make sense of it.
Between which two places do they mean? The comment was in response to o post about automatic reminders, so I guess it must be the place of being reminded to do something and the place of being reminded to not do something.
In my case, the reminder to “blog nothing” was definitely more effective in motivating me to blog something. I wonder if I made a new reminder “between those two places” I could do even better. I think I’ll try that.
The examples of “the most remarkable, creative ideas” are also unexpected and therefore remarkable. Is flying a plane or using a phone really that creative? I’ve never really thought about this question, but this spammer believes it to be so, so I will continue pondering it.
The last example, “being able to change the course of history with just a few words,” I mostly understand. The ideas that change history are inarguably remarkable and creative. Is it the words or the ability to change history with them that matters, though? I think it must be both.
Yesterday is a day much like most other days and much unlike many more. That last sentence was written in present tense because yesterday will be with me long after that 24-hour span has passed (which it already has) and writing it in past tense would deny it’s continuing continuity. And that would be wrong.
You see, my invisible or nonexistent reader, yesterday is the day that I am ordered by a glass of water to write more blog updates. More specifically, I will write one update for each day that passes between now and the day on which 30 updates have been updated.
I do not know why or how this glass of water spoke to me, but until I find out, I will blindly follow its instructions and hope it does not ask me to do anything impossible, disagreeable, or otherwise not.
Once, some time ago, there was an Ed. In this world, there have previously been two billion Eds and there are at least 191,023 Eds alive today. Ed never was and still isn’t a rare name, but no two Eds are exactly alike. Hypothetically, identical twin Eds could be nearly alike, but not many parents would give two siblings the same name, even if they weren’t twins. It would be too confusing. I guess there may be some parents out there that would consider it for the convenience of only having to yell one name when asking all their children to do something, but even then, the many disadvantages would probably outway that bit of usefulness and drive those parents to change their minds.
None of that really matters here because this specific Ed had no siblings or even parents with any names at all. Ed’s family lacked not only names, but any presence at all in the world. To the best of Ed’s knowledge, he had sprouted from the ground. In truth, he had, but he had also once had parents before they buried him. Not knowing this vital piece of his history, the real question: ‘why had they buried him’ had never occurred to Ed.
Ed mostly concerned himself with one thing, and he concerned himself with it very well. Baking pies on the Moon was that one thing. It is a well established fact that any baked good made on the moon will be superior than that same baked good made somewhere else. The weak gravity, lack of substantial atmosphere, and general wholesomeness of the Moon were mysteriously and miraculously just the right thing for all manner of breads, biscuits, cakes, pastries, and pies, but for some strange reason, not muffins. The leading researchers in Muffin Science have yet to suggest a better explanation than “The Moon just doesn’t like muffins”, which, if true, raises further questions that are much more potentially important, but also much harder to think about. Neither the harder question nor the simpler one made any difference to Ed. Ed baked pies.