Friday 1 May 2020

Plotting what it was went awry

There's this little loop that spirals into the deepest recesses until out of reach and control, but whose early recurrences result with frequency in strange associations that make me wonder what object just crossed my path when it was thought'd just crossed my mind.

As when I'm trying to recapture that thought that seems to've fled my head, knowing full well that it's still in there somewhere and from experience that it's by will retrievable, that ineffable sense brushing lightly against all the other senses to effect a trick of mirrors where, in turn, I try, in effect, to affect the trick of mirrors so as to pick out an intelligible sense among the myriad that will not trigger direct cognitive contact to the thought that's in here somewhere.

Though the thought occurred only four seconds ago, a paradigm shift, a stand & walk where there had been a sit — though merely a move to a task done by buried rote of no more conscious focus than those thoughts that occur and then flee, an intentional move nonetheless — takes that thought and puts it amply enough to the side that only uninterrupted effort can keep it from being banished.

If that won't derail the train, there's the perverse contention for control, as if this's a functional hierarchy. The winner either takes no decisions, or must decide between this sense's being a pointless irritation to be ignored, in that the circumstance demonstrates its triviality and thereby unworthiness of recall, or in which its resultant level of obsession directly determines its relevance. Relevance to something, to something other than... other than, than I dunno what.