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This is my entry for LJ Idol: Wheel of Chaos, with the topic "a nail is driven out by another nail."
The Nail
The short-term memory can hold only
five things at a time. A loaf of bread,
a stick of butter, fresh Tasmanian salmon,
brown rice, and a bunch of broccoli. Did you say
Tasmanian? Like the Tasmanian Devil? Now,
that's six. Something will fall out, be it
bread or broccoli or something else beginning with "B."
Like a science project, where you add one
element at a time, in order to see the effects.
Combine polyvinyl alcohol with
borax solution (borax powder and water).
Then add food coloring for fun. Stir
with a craft stick until it pulls away
from the side of the cup. Wait. What size
cup? A 5-ounce cup. But now,
that's six things. Something
will fall out, and the slime will suffer.
Could you learn to do better? Improve
your retention? Perhaps. But only by endless
repetition. Rambling on and on, underneath
your thoughts, the list of things
you can't forget. Or better yet,
write it down. Use a stylus or pen,
or a pencil pared to a point, or
a nubby crayon. Or Sharpie. Or maybe
a paintbrush. Except that
would be six things. And vanquish
all your efforts. Perhaps
you see it now: the secret power
of the five. The way it can keep you
pondering on nothings, awash
with minutiae. Swirling in the surf
of conscious jetsam. Grasping
to recall the faintest whisp
of fleeting thought, the mind
aflame with muted meaning. Only
to have that song you can't unhear
whoosh through your ear canal,
obliterating reminiscence as
it promises to never, ever
give you up.
KFP as a first grader, dressed in a mint button-down shirt and gray vest with a tie. He was ready to play the piano at his first talent show. I've put him on a background of music notes. I just loved the expression of excitement and a touch of impishness in his eyes!
The Nail
The short-term memory can hold only
five things at a time. A loaf of bread,
a stick of butter, fresh Tasmanian salmon,
brown rice, and a bunch of broccoli. Did you say
Tasmanian? Like the Tasmanian Devil? Now,
that's six. Something will fall out, be it
bread or broccoli or something else beginning with "B."
Like a science project, where you add one
element at a time, in order to see the effects.
Combine polyvinyl alcohol with
borax solution (borax powder and water).
Then add food coloring for fun. Stir
with a craft stick until it pulls away
from the side of the cup. Wait. What size
cup? A 5-ounce cup. But now,
that's six things. Something
will fall out, and the slime will suffer.
Could you learn to do better? Improve
your retention? Perhaps. But only by endless
repetition. Rambling on and on, underneath
your thoughts, the list of things
you can't forget. Or better yet,
write it down. Use a stylus or pen,
or a pencil pared to a point, or
a nubby crayon. Or Sharpie. Or maybe
a paintbrush. Except that
would be six things. And vanquish
all your efforts. Perhaps
you see it now: the secret power
of the five. The way it can keep you
pondering on nothings, awash
with minutiae. Swirling in the surf
of conscious jetsam. Grasping
to recall the faintest whisp
of fleeting thought, the mind
aflame with muted meaning. Only
to have that song you can't unhear
whoosh through your ear canal,
obliterating reminiscence as
it promises to never, ever
give you up.
KFP as a first grader, dressed in a mint button-down shirt and gray vest with a tie. He was ready to play the piano at his first talent show. I've put him on a background of music notes. I just loved the expression of excitement and a touch of impishness in his eyes!
