some would say, an epiphany
I call it the timetumor™.
Slowly, without know it at first, time takes away all that you remember about the past. People, tv shows, ideas, friends - they get slowly eaten, absorbed into a giant mass of nothingness known as "history" so that we may collectively reminisce about the Reagan years, junior high, watching "CHiPs" on TNT every summer morning, the funny smell of grandma's house, and the plethora of other sights, sounds, smells, and thoughts annexed into darkness. No radioactive treatments or cell-bursting chemotherapy can stop it. It silently creeps up on us all, most of us not realizing it until it's too late to avoid some sort of meltdown - the sudden trauma of knowing all these things that you defined your life by would soon be gone if they weren't already.
Only when these events and ideas are digitized and stored on banks of hard disks in massive media retrieval systems do we look back in disbelief and say:
"How could it every be as good as it was?"
Slowly, without know it at first, time takes away all that you remember about the past. People, tv shows, ideas, friends - they get slowly eaten, absorbed into a giant mass of nothingness known as "history" so that we may collectively reminisce about the Reagan years, junior high, watching "CHiPs" on TNT every summer morning, the funny smell of grandma's house, and the plethora of other sights, sounds, smells, and thoughts annexed into darkness. No radioactive treatments or cell-bursting chemotherapy can stop it. It silently creeps up on us all, most of us not realizing it until it's too late to avoid some sort of meltdown - the sudden trauma of knowing all these things that you defined your life by would soon be gone if they weren't already.
Only when these events and ideas are digitized and stored on banks of hard disks in massive media retrieval systems do we look back in disbelief and say:
"How could it every be as good as it was?"