Constructivism

Our world, that is the part of the world that is outside nature that we have created, is a human construction (there is a great discussion of this in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance). In fact all this stuff once started out in someone's brain, somewhere down in between the folds of that fleshy grayish tofu like consistency brain; yes, all that we have come to know and appreciate. This computer I am typing on, typing itself, the words I am typing, the many other complex technologies that are being implemented to make all of this possible once started out in someone's brain. How is that things completely intangible (thoughts) (but are they really?) make it into the outside world?

How absolutely amazing is it that we can give form to what can be reduced to electrical transfer between cells out to a world? I tend toward the more romantic view of reality (but in a classical way), mystical (one might say) and I like that.

I hate posts like this. They go no where and feel really self absorbed and pointless. But that is just self-deprecating isn't it? Or maybe it is the truth. More on that tomorrow. (What am I talking about?)

Here is a story I wrote. It has no plot, no moral, and no dominate themes. It is and that is all. I would think it to be much like life, not everything has a meaning. Some things just are. As one great thinker once put it we would never ask the meaning of a lady bug, it just is. So it is with this "story." And maybe this is an assault on the whole process and craft of writing (some previous readers would think so); so be it.


Page 273

"Shut up, just shut up," John said clinching the steering wheel. I turned, looking out of my window, watching the trees slow down.
"You're walking," I said calmly.
"No, I am walking. I am tired of setting in this car anyway," Eli chimed in.
I got out of the car, shut the door, turned and walked away towards the gas station that I hoped was there.

Whoa there is a raven. I wonder if I am going to die. Nevermore. I really like Poe such suspense. Thinking of that, I wonder if John brought a gun. Well of course he did. I mean why would he not, he probably went and bought one at the ammo store before we left, idiot. If I was going to die on this little foray it would probably be because of that gun... that he probably has. I wonder what is the best way to hold ones thumb out in order to catch a ride. Hold it out, with my arm sightly limp, so that it seems that I don't care, and move it back and forth slowly. I bet there is... Some pages from a book. That would be funny if it were pages from the Bible, from Job. That would be an omen. I bet there is a gas station right around this corner... The grass is really dead here and these pages are... only from a romance novel. O well no omen today. I think I will drop these pages back to the ground for some poor soul to be deceived by. Maybe we will be fortunate enough that... O Here comes the chance to try my hitching technique now. Thumb out, arm slightly limp, and slowly moving back and forth. He is not slowing down... come on, you know you want to pick me up... ah forget it.

Turning and facing the oncoming truck and waving my hands I yelled, "Hey... Hey... I need a ride!"

That was lame why did I say that. Should have stayed with the thumb, probably would have stopped if I had stayed with that. I thought people from the south were supposed to be polite or something. Geez it is getting hot, I wonder how long I have been walking, it seems like it has been an hour. Almost out of the corner, there has got to be a gas station up here, up yonder. Up yonder? were did that come from. This is the south and the road has a lot of words in it. I am ill this heat is really getting to... I think I am ADD or ADHD, DHDA or something. Well probably one of those... aaaaannnnnnndddd there, is. All right, nothing, no gas station this is encouraging. Is that a car? Ok use the thumb technique as soon as the car rounds the corner stick it out there. That car looks a lot like the BMW. I think... yeah it is?

Rolling the passenger window down he said, "You need a ride," with a smirk on his face.
"John where did you get the gas at," I asked opening the door and getting in the car.
"Well did you see that old pick up truck."
"Yeah he didn't stop," I said.
"Well the old man that was driving it, stopped and gave us some gas," John said grabbing the knob on the radio, "and I told him that you where up ahead and that there was no need for him to stop and pick you up."
"He said the next gas station is only a few miles ahead," Eli said while reaching for the tuning knob on the radio.
"So we will stop there," John said slapping Eli's hand away.
"Would you two stop that, I am going to choose the station," I said reaching for the knob.