The over quote comes from the end of that evergreen celluloid perfection, Trading Places.
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I mean, what is not to like? A manic Eddie Murphy, the comic genius that is Dan Aykroyd and also when has actually tright here been a tighter fitting top than Jamie Lee Curtis’? Not given that they introduced security caps on medicine bottles. Pause, feels faint.
This is my 300th short article (second pausage, takes bow) so why not feel good? I kicked off in April last year via no real aspiration and also certainly no arrangement and now I have a book out tright here for the public to buy and also 300 posts under my belt. Of course I feel pretty excellent.
And then I review this post about how we are all currently so interconnected, we are all so dependent of our electronics and our chips and our digital what have actually yous that our civilization will quickly be run by AI, Artificial Intelligence and this is the best existential hazard to humankind since the cold war or the Industrial Revolution or the creation of the potato crisp (or perhaps namong those – I didn’t read it that closely even though it appears Stephen Hawking is a proponent of this fear). And then I saw the film Brotherhood, an extraordinary epic by Rictough Linklater on. In it the lead, Maboy who grows up before our exceptionally eyes posits that tright here is some significant conspiracy behind all the social media that dominates our lives and holds us in its thrall. But then he’s seventeenager and also talking shit is sort of obligatory at his age – if you haven’t seen the film the last line, which sort of defines his viewpoint cracked me up; it was so true to life – it was exactly the sort of utter bullshit that the eighteenager year old me came out with, thinking it profound but actually it is about as deep as Kalaharian puddle (straining the metaphors, aren’t we?). And no I won’t tell you what Maboy said; go see the film: it’s epic in all senses.
But, and also here’s the thing, the Textiliste mistrusts social media in the very same means she mistrusts cold callers supplying complimentary anypoints, the concept that diets occupational and my judgement of what colour suits her. And she’s not wrong in her misjudgements (acomponent from the green cardigan; I was appropriate tbelow – and it was green and not blue). She won’t take part, not because she fears a conspiracy to manage us or that AI will certainly render most human employment pointless yet because it stops us being huguy and also having human level interactions and discourse. Sure she hates giving out her details to anyone; she cannot believe well of anyone who wants her debit card details and she still thinks the cheque book is the best fiscal manage measure given that the gold traditional was represented in the 1920s. No, what pisses her off the most is as soon as I look at one of my many kind of devices just as soon as she wants/needs/expects/deserves my attention.
Throughout his TED talk (posted by Norah as component of the 100o voices for Compassion) Dan Goodguy referenced a word which he said was created to describe the annoyance and puzzlement stimulated by someone answering the phone or reading a text/mail/whatsapp/whatever as soon as half way via a conversation with a genuine person: PIZZLE (a compound word to describe just how a person feels both confused and also pissed off at being ignored). Leaving aside the fact that the metropolitan dictionary explains this as slang for penis (which might merely expect the perchild ignoring the sentient being and answering their device is actually a dick) it is good to have such a word for such a state which, sadly, the Textiliste finds herself in even more regularly that she would certainly prefer or deserves.
All this provides me wonder if we wouldn’t all be in a better and also happier location if we put our phones/tablets/laptops etc away for a day. In the last year I’ve posted 300 times. I’ve published a book, reached a point where another is via my editor for a last polish, created many kind of flash and a few poems, finiburned Nano through at leastern 70,000 words in the direction of a sequel my initially book, began a weekly novel…. the majority of time invested via my fingers on a keyboard, as you can check out.
So I will certainly try and ration my computer system use. Really. Well, maybe a bit… But I will not engender that sense of pizzlement if I deserve to help it. And if I do, then I will certainly have actually eincredibly factor to feel good!
This stream of nonsense emantates from Charli Mills latest prompt
February 18, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story around feeling great. Is it a relationship? A brand-new dawn, a new day? A reprieve or a relief from previously tension? Does it come from providing or receiving a gift? Is it the result of compassion? If you hear wedding bells, include them to the story.
So Mary. She that is, Atlas -choose, carrying all liberal arts burdens in 99 word weekly dollops. I know what Charli is doing. She’s trying to check out if my tortured and also twisted mind can both be true to the prompt and also store Mary in her own little bit hell.
If you require a refresher, click here; you will also uncover an overview of the story to day at the peak of the link.
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‘How did it go?’
Mary sat still, a grin slipping unbidden across her challenge. ‘Gloria made me feel lighter, you know?’
Paul nodded. ‘Did you learn much?’
‘No. But I don’t mind. I think, also if those bones are my twin… well let’s see.’
Paul let her stop in her own time.
‘No one knows if she’s alive. I think Rupert. Dad’s diaries don’t cite her, just me. It looks choose Mum kbrand-new who my birth mom was, though not Dad’s… affair.’