The old me wrote lists. They
can be found sometimes amongst those things that cannot be thrown
away. They are written on frugal bits of paper and tucked away in
safe places. And it was probably the discovery of one such bit of
paper that persuaded the new me to open a folder on his computer that has
the title 'list'.
typewritten and bulleted this document contains the majesty of formal
intention. It is the gold coin amongst pennies. It is bright
with direction and orderliness. But it would be much more
practical were it on a single sheet of paper. This way multiple
copies could be distributed so that it might retain a constant and current
presence in daily routine.
Unfortunately the list is quite long and does not as currently configured
fit on the one side of a single sheet of paper. Reducing font size
is defeating, because while the old me enjoys the freedom associated with
illegibility the new me has made his resolution, and in that resolution
freedom does not appear.
The answer is columns. On the
word processor there is a function that enables columns, but so far
profanity by itself has failed to produce a column or any sense of how a
column is achieved.
This infuriating impasse is further
aggravated by an understanding in the new me that some years ago the old me
was capable of telling the word processor how to produce columns. And
no matter how convincing the old me tries to be the new me does not believe
Such a pity the third part of this
triumvirate is memory, because now that memory is slowly dwindling the new
me and the old me, may one day part company. A sad event I'm certain,
but I'll not be there to see it.