it’s getting mighty crowded and it’s not an elvis costello song

before going on about my moments with the grifting lizards from mars, i was clearing the desktop of this wheezing-E-machine, left behind by my dearest aunty drew, maxx-the-birthday-dog’s second-bestest friend on this planet, that has assumed the bulk of the computerized work i do while i await the resurrection of my i-book, the quiet.
back when i used to call a posting here a “blog”, before i started calling it a “note” (about a week ago or so…) i wrote about something that required me to google some information. in doing so, i found an amazing glossary (i’m easy to impress) of things regarding the “brain” and “memory”.
i’ve decided to post the entire thing in bits and pieces, mindful of the clusterfuck this much brainformation could damage my own decaying graymatter (and maybe even yours.)

here’s the first one, in alphabetical order;
Activation – The degree to which a particular piece of information in memory is currently being attended to and mentally processed.
i will try to use this somewhere in my developing note.

when i got to the beach on thursday, after walking on the shore, letting the sound of the waves massage my spirit, listening with someone-else’s ear, the multi-waved oceanic humm, my connection to the air above it and sky and universe above that, i clicked maxx’s fun and the buried big tire. i looked for patterns and hallucinations i remembered from acid tabs gone by, patterns and directions left by the ocean’s wake; the beauty of man’s scarring – bits of sludgefoam and oil slicks, momentary tattoos to be brought to the shore, taken and re-deposited elsewhere again and again until they make their way into the earth’s cancered skin, a way for me to understand how cute the nodule was that announced itself to my jawline two years ago, having made peace with the notion that decay and death is a candy-coated nightmare of bliss and the turbo that gets the eternity jets going aiming me toward (all together now…) “the eighth electro-plasma ocean of the ninth dimension.”
now, when you google it with the quotes, you get four whole pages and you even get an ebay page with nothing for sale! they must be waiting for one. (an eighth electro-plasma ocean of the ninth dimension)
i think these things because two fingers of my right hand are caught absent-mindedly caressing the “wooden” portion of my neck, just below someone else’s ear, as i proof this.
this isn’t getting me anywhere near the pictures i took and the things i learned on thursday that’ll offer any clarity to the things i said about aliens and humanity being used as “doubleA batteries (those of us who aren’t being bred for gourmet diets of grifting lizards.)
the conversation with the grifting lizard in woman’s suit was supplanted with my being interviewed by a woman in her own skin. she was using “activation” in recalling information i was feeding her. she also had a pad and recording device to help. i’m only saying this because i promised to put that quoted word in a sentence.
by the time i got back here, my desk, computer and TV, this was going on at TCM – the night of the hunter, a film directed by charles laughton;

i found myself thinking of my lost brother because i can vividly recall sitting before a different tv at a different time with him. i could hear our childish voices as we examined the menace of robert mitchum and sang along with him as he sat at the tree stump, “leaning….”

About stephen trimboli

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