Day 477: I'm on a toilet

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It's 11:15 and I'm sitting on a toilet. Listen, I don't mean to draw you into the sewer so early in the entry, I'll quickly point out that I am fully clothed and the seat is down, just so we're clear. I merely want to address my geographical situation, more for me than for you. I just came in from my late night walk, which has quickly become a nightly necessity, a walk that was prematurely ended, in my opinion, by the emergence of a dense fog of mosquitos. Having no wish to be sucked dry like the poor Mexican livestock when the mysterious Chubacabra becomes active again.. I came inside and here I now sit, the only place I won't be disturbing anyone as I try to get this thing written and everyone else wisely sleeps. 

Oh, and if you've never heard of a Chubacabra -as I'm assuming spell check has not, given the fact it has scrawled a long red gash along the bottom both times I used the name- you would do well to google them. Little weirdos with hypnotic eyes that suck the blood out of livestock... anyway, I suppose I've just summed them up well enough for you to not have to do anymore work tonight. SO there you go.  

In any event, the walk was great and my lectures on the four sages are just as good as they were a year and a half ago when I listened to them the first time. I'm now trying to incorporate some of the memory images I've created -my PAO list- into the lectures so that I am in a constant state of creating images for the information coming in as a way to remember it with increasing fidelity... blah blah blah, I'm creating stories to go with what I'm hearing, leaving bread crumbs along the way so I can summon the information at any time. Savvy? 

So far I've eternally linked Confucius, the Buddha and Jesus, with Carl Sagan, Bill Murray and Jerry Seinfeld. Probably a good thing I haven't associated anyone to Muhammad yet so that I don't have to potentially offend any of my Muslim brothers who may be reading the blog tonight, and mistake my motives for something less than deep respect for their prophet. The whole point of these activities, I will remind all of you, of learning this memory technique as I am, is so that I can deeply study all the great thinkers, beginning with the four sages, and learn their teaches to as accurate a degree as I can.

I also want to be able to not need to sit in front of a computer to write. 

And have elaborate passwords that would be pretty much unhackable. 

And remember every name of every person I meet from now on. 

And on and on. 

But first the great sages, because hey, I was a philosopher long before I told jokes on stage. And when you're on the verge of creating your own Science Fiction Universe, as that is the path I have been on since birth I can assure you, then you need to first understand what Yoda is trying to tell your Luke, whilst deep in the wilderness of life, struggling in his quest to become a hero, before you can properly fictionalize it. I call it "Learning to speak Spigg" based on a character of my series, but you may call it other things if you wish.. like you needed my permission!

I particular enjoyed trying out some of my new memory techniques using Bill Murray as the Buddha; dressing him in a robe befitting his high station, giving his face smug smirk he so dominated as a bowling professional in one of the funnier movies I've ever seen: Kingpin. That look, translating Buddha wisdom? How can you go wrong?

How, I ask you dear, dear readers, can you tell me that learning something can't be made fun? 

Association, imagination, location. Those are the three keys to memory, as taught by Dominic O'Brien, the current master in the business. Those three tools, brushes, all of them, dipped into whatever tickles your fancy, that eternal pool of mental paint, all splashed onto the the food matter turned brain meat in your big, thick head, that serves as of course... wait for it..

the canvas. 

How does this guy come up with such a graceful metaphor, for so delicate and mysterious a process, whilst propped upon a toilet at 11:30pm?? Astonishing, I tell you... myself. 

So Bill taught me a lot the other night, about the Buddha and what he got up to as he sought an end to suffering and inner peace.. lofty, but surely universal goals for all of us I would hope to think. But I had only started my attempt at applying the memory system so it was a rough go for a while, trying to keep up in an actual battle situation, which is to say; life... as defined as: other monkeys talking to you in real time with information you want very desperately to remember.. just as daunting as having real live bullets shot at you, though not half as dangerous; although one wonders what unseen dangers are caused, eventually, from not seeking and then heeding, internalizing, and living, the words of the worlds greatest moral thinkers? The people who sought to be the Most Good.

Not a damage as quick as a bullet, but a wound you live with daily, no doubt. 

Okay, I clearly need to be sitting on this toilet more often. This is gold Jerry, GOLD! And by Jerry I of course mean Jesus. Jerry Seinfeld to be more specific, with a Jesus beard, wearing long white robes and sandals he complains about constantly.

He's very sarcastic, my Seinfeld Jesus, and not at all comfortable in the role I've given him, his acting skills always being somewhat suspect, as I think we all can admit it was. Oh, I could tell you all about the gospels of his disciples, forever now my friend Mark Bennett, and the acting duo of Mathew & Luke Perry. The more interesting gospel is that of Thomas, played aloofly in my imagination as Tom Hardy. His stories of Jesus's behaviour in his youth, -think Jerry still, I kept him the same age looking, but gave him an even more childish whine- and how he acted out, as if a young Superman in tantrum. 

The system worked much better for that one. But I'm still not there yet. I tried to memorize a deck of cards yesterday. It was a mess, but the system worked. I just don't have all my images memorized yet... and yada, yada, yada, I'm on a toilet. 

We had a good day before all that nonsense above, which almost constitutes an entire entry now that I look at the time. When did I start this? 11:15.. okay, well yeah, it's 11:39. So there you go. But I'll keep going, impressed as I am at my own posture and level of comfort, whist atop my porcelain throne.. the throne of another man I suppose, the wizard, who is somewhere far up north working on the Wall, with the Blackcloaks, trying to keep the giants at work. 

Shit that's another good one. Gary you're toilet is a veritable fount of inspiration. 
*I apologize if you spell it Garry. Or if just then I spelled it wrong, and the other one was fine. 

Either way I've both screwed up your name and apologized for it. So we should be good. Also, as to the elusive beer you told me was in the fridge in the garage, after a second search today, by your wife, it has yet to be found. So I have imbibed only the beverages both of our wives have purchased for me whilst I make use of this fine toilet of yours, and your home. Savvy?

Today we went to Jeannette's grandparents home, where I got to meet one of her aunts at the same time, who took one of the better images of the Blaze that's ever been taken with her phone. It's tough to get an inferno on film, you know? The flames move so fast they always end up blurry. I ate too much food while we were there. Entirely too much. But there was no option. It was just piled on your plate. Oh sure, she asked if you wanted... but the question was always posed -in Arabic- as the food was being heaped on your already overwhelmed plate. And there was always just more food.. whether fruit, or cookies, or coffee; in a tiny cup.. that would make your head spin for an hour.. it all just kept coming. 

I suppose I'll have to learn arabic just so I can engage her in conversation. I think she feels that if I can't talk my mouth has to be in constant action and the only other way to do that is to shovel more food into my mouth. AT one point she had her whole table full of pita bread slices, already preparing for the next meal I suppose, however many hours away -after having only just finished this last meal, that almost killed me -but was AMAZING, the all caps were spontaneously written by my fingers, such was the deliciousness of this food.. I tell you. Anyway, I looked at her working at the table and asked Jeannette, only half jokingly, if she was going to make me eat all the pita... thankfully, it didn't come to that. Blaze had a good visit with his great grandmother and I made a promise to start learning the language. 

We'll call that phase 3 of the memory work. 

Nite munks. 
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