Karl (louderback) wrote,


     Well, withdrawal symptoms continue. I hope my computer will be back monday. If it is not I may have to call and have them bring the parts so I can bury them and buy a new one... well, perhaps not.

     I'm using a completely unfamiliar set of tools to do all my usual stuff. I am writing this with something called pagebreeze instead of my usual coffeecup HTML editor. I dislike a product that puts a commercial on my page at all times. I'm browsing with Internet explorer instead of my usual Opera browser. Of course that means that the virus scan finds something every night instead of once in a while. The virus scan is Avast! instead of my usual AVG. That makes me unhappy too.

    I am a bit limited in what I can do on a computer, so I have sought out a very specific set of tools. Working with the unfamiliar makes me crazy in a variety of ways.

     My friend Randy called me tonight. It was a minor miracle that he reached me on the cell phone. I happened to have it plugged in and charging or he would probably never have connected. He has settled in Illinois and seems to be doing well. I've got to figure out what the attraction of Illinois is. I know a couple of families that have headed that way recently.

     I suppose being bored is the worst of not having my computer around.


     I guess the boredom was the worst of it. You got to a point where, after a few years, you looked forward to seeing someone walk past the grating in the door. At first, meals sliding into the cell were the ticks of my clock. Eventually they became unnoticeable. Almost everything became unnoticeable.

     Lacking stimulation, the mind withdraws. Unfortunately for me I had nowhere to which I might comfortably withdraw. I'm not of an imaginative turn of mind; I don't have that "rich fantasy life" you hear about.

     For a while I occupied myself doing math in my head kidding myself that I was keeping my mind sharp. Then I realized that I had no actual way of checking my work. I plotted escapes for a few years. I suppose that counts as fantasy.

     I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here. I went to sleep one night and woke here. I could be in a cell a block from my home or in the bowels of an alien spaceship bound for anywhere. If there are aliens and spaceships, of course.

     I wondered for a long time what I had done. It took time to realize that I might well have done nothing. Every avenue of exploration of my fate leads nowhere.

     So I'm bored. 


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