Listening to Evan Davies interview Tristan Harris on Newsnight last night, about how evil technology is enslaving us all (apart from me of course). I suppose Evan Harris had to play devil's advocate, but it felt like a stupid now for something completely different tail ender, not what it is, a warning of terrible things to come. Don't get a smart phone. Finish Metanoia and throw this Chrome in the bin.
Wrote a long email reply to a commenter (I know who they are and they know who I am) about writing. Since when did I become the expert?
Listening to Radio 3. Much nicer than the Today programme on Radio 4, which has more bilge per minute than The Times does per column inch. They talked about bitcoin this morning to someone from the Bank of England, who stated the obvious as if it was a criticism (e.g. "it's not backed by a government" - yes, that's the whole point, so it can't be manipulated by a government either!). Of course the interviewer knew nothing about digital currencies and blockchain, so couldn't even imagine an intelligent question. Why didn't they get someone who knows about bitcoin, to interview the silly man. End of Radio 4 rant. For now.
I'd like to short the bitcoin. I wonder if IG Index do a contract? $10,000 looks a bit silly (I'm up 80% since October 20th, when I bought my 1/100th of a bitcoin for £50). Buy some more if it drops significantly.
Started watching Rory Stewart's Lawrence of Arabia on youtube last night before lights out (Lawrence of Arabia Pt 1). Brilliant. He looks like a little boy, and startlingly like Lawrence. He (Rory Stewart) walked 6,000 miles from Turkey to Pakistan (I think) - it took him 21 months.
Feel I should write something about alcohol. Finished the last 2 bottles of my LA/NA Beck's Blue. Won't buy any more. More concerned about my not meditating, and not going out for a walk or a cycle ride (which if I did, might make me a bit more tired / ready to go to sleep at a more reasonable time).
Idleness: it's not as if I do nothing all day (and in any case, doing nothing is doing something), I'm very busy, and doing useful and interesting things, but I feel bad because they are not what the boss thinks I should be doing. (Who is the boss, and who gave him the job? Can he be sacked? Was he ever interviewed or appointed?) I don't feel bad, the boss makes me feel bad. What a lousy job. I suppose, instead of sacking him, I could leave the company.
Funny odd thing (actually not funny at all) à la Tristan Davis: I have successfully switched off most of my emails (sent The Times to read & archived limbo yesterday - I don't read them, Gmail does), I don't get Facebook notifications, or any other notifications either apart from Google Calendar (Wake Up! Smell the Coffee! Do This! Or That!) and yet I feel myself twitching, just as if I'm wanting a drink. Can't bring myself to shut the lid, switch the fucking thing off. Yet equally, can't bring myself to do the main thing that justifies its existence, i.e. write more Metanoia. Keep hungering for an email, or something on Facebook, in a way that I don't keep hoping for a proper letter, or even a phone call. Mad. Definitely a kind of addiction. Sad and bad.
Snow is forecast. So it's raining.
Didn't write any more Metanoia (well a short paragraph). Re-arranged the furniture in my room and cut and cleaned the carpet for Pol's summerhouse.
I keep wanting something, and think it's a drink. A drink would shut that wanting up, for a while, but it's not what I want, it's just this feeling that creeps up on me, of not having something, but being unable to say exactly what that something might be. And yet, only an hour or two ago, I suddenly felt I had never been happier. And that was strange, that here I am, alone, broke, don't even have any choc ices in my freezer, and yet I am completely at ease. And then, an hour or so later, this undefinable wanting comes up from behind, seemingly out of nowhere. It is interesting how over the last 54 days, the automatic thinking of reaching out for a drink, or a spliff, seems almost to have gone. It still occurs as an idea, but it doesn't seem real, or a serious answer to my problem.
I also thought today, how so much of the time when I was drinking in the last few years, I had the feeling I was creeping or crawling across a steep black slate roof, in the dark, wet and slippery with rain, and that at any moment I might simply slip off and fall to my death. Now, I have the same feeling, not nearly as strong, but instead of slipping off the roof, I am worried I might slip off and have a drink. Which is, I suppose, some sort of improvement or progress.
The Detectorists, and my book, and bed, call.
Wrote a long email reply to a commenter (I know who they are and they know who I am) about writing. Since when did I become the expert?
Listening to Radio 3. Much nicer than the Today programme on Radio 4, which has more bilge per minute than The Times does per column inch. They talked about bitcoin this morning to someone from the Bank of England, who stated the obvious as if it was a criticism (e.g. "it's not backed by a government" - yes, that's the whole point, so it can't be manipulated by a government either!). Of course the interviewer knew nothing about digital currencies and blockchain, so couldn't even imagine an intelligent question. Why didn't they get someone who knows about bitcoin, to interview the silly man. End of Radio 4 rant. For now.
I'd like to short the bitcoin. I wonder if IG Index do a contract? $10,000 looks a bit silly (I'm up 80% since October 20th, when I bought my 1/100th of a bitcoin for £50). Buy some more if it drops significantly.
Started watching Rory Stewart's Lawrence of Arabia on youtube last night before lights out (Lawrence of Arabia Pt 1). Brilliant. He looks like a little boy, and startlingly like Lawrence. He (Rory Stewart) walked 6,000 miles from Turkey to Pakistan (I think) - it took him 21 months.
Feel I should write something about alcohol. Finished the last 2 bottles of my LA/NA Beck's Blue. Won't buy any more. More concerned about my not meditating, and not going out for a walk or a cycle ride (which if I did, might make me a bit more tired / ready to go to sleep at a more reasonable time).
Idleness: it's not as if I do nothing all day (and in any case, doing nothing is doing something), I'm very busy, and doing useful and interesting things, but I feel bad because they are not what the boss thinks I should be doing. (Who is the boss, and who gave him the job? Can he be sacked? Was he ever interviewed or appointed?) I don't feel bad, the boss makes me feel bad. What a lousy job. I suppose, instead of sacking him, I could leave the company.
Funny odd thing (actually not funny at all) à la Tristan Davis: I have successfully switched off most of my emails (sent The Times to read & archived limbo yesterday - I don't read them, Gmail does), I don't get Facebook notifications, or any other notifications either apart from Google Calendar (Wake Up! Smell the Coffee! Do This! Or That!) and yet I feel myself twitching, just as if I'm wanting a drink. Can't bring myself to shut the lid, switch the fucking thing off. Yet equally, can't bring myself to do the main thing that justifies its existence, i.e. write more Metanoia. Keep hungering for an email, or something on Facebook, in a way that I don't keep hoping for a proper letter, or even a phone call. Mad. Definitely a kind of addiction. Sad and bad.
Snow is forecast. So it's raining.
Didn't write any more Metanoia (well a short paragraph). Re-arranged the furniture in my room and cut and cleaned the carpet for Pol's summerhouse.
I keep wanting something, and think it's a drink. A drink would shut that wanting up, for a while, but it's not what I want, it's just this feeling that creeps up on me, of not having something, but being unable to say exactly what that something might be. And yet, only an hour or two ago, I suddenly felt I had never been happier. And that was strange, that here I am, alone, broke, don't even have any choc ices in my freezer, and yet I am completely at ease. And then, an hour or so later, this undefinable wanting comes up from behind, seemingly out of nowhere. It is interesting how over the last 54 days, the automatic thinking of reaching out for a drink, or a spliff, seems almost to have gone. It still occurs as an idea, but it doesn't seem real, or a serious answer to my problem.
I also thought today, how so much of the time when I was drinking in the last few years, I had the feeling I was creeping or crawling across a steep black slate roof, in the dark, wet and slippery with rain, and that at any moment I might simply slip off and fall to my death. Now, I have the same feeling, not nearly as strong, but instead of slipping off the roof, I am worried I might slip off and have a drink. Which is, I suppose, some sort of improvement or progress.
The Detectorists, and my book, and bed, call.
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