My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

So, before I get into my nineteenth tattoo, I should mention my eighteenth.

A few weeks ago, I came across a Nirvana song I’d never heard before, a B-Side versions of I Hate Myself and Want to Die. The song’s immediate appeal is its raw energy, but I always have to know a song’s lyrics after I decide I like how it sounds. After a lot of listening, and a little research, I found that the lyrics are really very interesting. Basically, I don’t think the song is about anything in particular, it doesn’t come together to tell a story. To me, it feels like random lines poetry, some of which probably don’t mean anything, while others definitely mean something…

Tattoo by Colt, artist and badass at Doc Dog's in Ybor

My favorite line, “I could never only, one day,” is what I picked for my eighteenth tattoo. I like it because it really describes my inner-struggle, the fact that I can’t simply wait for “one day.” I’m not a content fellow. I want certain things in my life, and I’m not particularly good at just waiting for them. Outwardly, I come off as very patient, and part of me genuinely is patient, but there’s another part of me that is constantly wanting. It’s been said to me by several people that maybe I should just accept the life I do have, that if I did do that I wouldn’t be so unhappy. The thing is, I absolutely cannot be content with that kind of acceptance. I don’t think it’s crazy to want a life bigger than my stylishly decorated little room, a life of writing, a life with a lover and space apart from my family. There’s nothing wrong with wanting those things. Having had and lost those things, I’m completely certain that I cannot be content without them. Honestly, the idea of living a life of never having has gotten to be more terrifying than the thought of dying.

We’re making clear progress, tomorrow should be very interesting.

So, it’s day 5, and the NeuroSwitch is now useable! We’re still working on speed and latency issues, but I can totally use it for basic, slow, hands-free typing. I’m using it right now! We’re definitely making progress. العاب روليت

Peter’s still writing mad code, we took the evening off for both of us to get a tattoo. It was his first, my nineteenth.

So, to give an idea of what I can do with a switch when the switch works, here’s a video of me from back in the day, a year before I quit the world of speaking people. I’ve changed so much since then, I’m not that person anymore. I want to think I’m something better, but I don’t know.

A reader asked…

“How much faster are you than the typical user? Is there a way to gauge that?”

Okay, with my forehead, I can tap the switch twenty-four individual times in eight seconds. For every other NeuroSwitch user that kind of movement is considered a muscle spasm, and it’s filtered into a single tap. For me, however, the movements are deliberate and accurate.

So, Peter Shann Ford is having to write a lot of new code to make NeuroSwitch responsive enough for me. Fortunately, Peter’s a genius, and he said he’s not leaving until he gets it right.

We did more testing, Peter’s writing lots of new code to accommodate my level of speed. It’s not useable, yet.

I was overconfident yesterday, there’s much work ahead.

I’m exhausted, claustrophobic, not capable of objectively writing about the situation. I mentioned the claustrophobia to someone who I thought would understand. She said, “well, that’s better than agoraphobic.” I assume it was a joke, but it hurt spectacularly. I guess I didn’t expect another wanderer of dark places to kick me in mine. I just don’t think my drowning is funny, nobody’s drowning is funny to me.

Tomorrow I’ll be able to write more like my old self again.

What will I write? Will the static in my head, the reflected sound of everything, will it lead to anything? I don’t know right now, but I’ll know tomorrow tomorrow.

My hand hardly works today.