Are ebooks a Monster That Only Eats Time?

Does anyone read them?

I know I don’t, that’s why I ask.  I have converted a few of my books, but I am certainly not chomping at the bit to do more.  I simply can’t read from an electronic device for pleasure.  It is work. Continue reading

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Brain Drain, Science Fiction?

I recently went to the doctor and was diagnosed with having a swollen brain. She said I needed immediate surgery to reduce the pressure. I said, “Okay”, I was all for a little pressure release valve or a brain drain. They shaved my head and strapped me in, down and around. The only things left movable were my eyes and just to irk me they stuck a mirror in front of those. With a little laser pointer the doctor showed me the ridge on which (x) marked the planned drill site. My skull was a multicolored globe stuck full of probes and wires. I looked like an angry Medusa. I was also surrounded by a dozen or so little TV screens on which I could see and hear myself think. Did you know that swear words have a different frequency than thinking of ice cream? They do. They sound similar to a car with bad valves. They got me a dirty look from the anesthesiologist.
What I hate the most about anesthesia is that when they put me under I don’t think coherently or dream. It is not exactly a blind nothingness because I could sense a dull pressure and discern a sound like rasping sandpaper. It felt as if I were swollen all over and I had contracted a new disease called brainspread. I wasn’t being drained, but buttered. Then I had to puke but nothing worked. I had no puke muscles. It was weird, but I didn’t feel bodied or disembodied. Where the hell did I go? Purgatory?
That’s about the time you start to come out of it. I felt thankful and not thankful at all. My brain was completely and utterly numbfounded. Even though I couldn’t puke I had a need to regurgitate my every thought because I couldn’t talk. My tongue was glued down. My eyelids wouldn’t move out of the way of my orbs or maybe they cut the wrong nerve and I was blind. I didn’t want to be blind. I felt like I wanted to panic, but I couldn’t do that either. I couldn’t find my panic button. They had unhooked my brain and I didn’t have a conduit to my body. Maybe they had stollen my brain. I was pretty intelligent, but then again I was also a smart ass. I wouldn’t put it past them to usurp my brain for ulterior motives. Or maybe I was just dead.
When the first wave of pain hit me I was certain I wasn’t dead. After the fifth or sixth one, I wanted to be. My whole head felt like a massive toothache. I was suffering from a bad brain abscess. I had agreed to the damn operation at the outset because I needed my brain reduced not enlarged. Maybe that was the reason I couldn’t see, my eyeballs had popped out of their sockets. On top of all that, there was some cocksucker screaming at the top of his lungs. I wanted to shove a suck in his mouth. That was when something clicked inside my battered head. I closed my mouth. The screams stopped. My eyelids finally popped open.
There was a small table beside the bed with my laptop on it. Beside it sat a pitcher of water with ice cube remnants and a green plastic cup. It dawned on me just how utterly thirsty I was. My throat was parched and sore from all the screaming. I sat up. I was expecting nausea and pain but I felt nothing but the usual tingle behind my right ear. I was going to be okay after all. I had simply had a nasty nightmare.
I poured a glass of water and soothed my parched tongue. I lifted the USB cable that was attached to my laptop and plugged it into the USB port behind my right ear. The tingling stopped. I hit download and went back to sleep.

 

Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®

Connecting

Fishing

I like connecting here, but true human connection is hard to replicate in the virtual world. It is like the act of writing where we are alone but choose to create a setting for others to join us vicariously in thought and emotion. I can enjoy fishing by reading about another’s experience of it, but I am not fishing. Fishing is an actual thing, more than anyone could ever put into words. We are learning how to trick the brain and create body responses virtually, and even though it approaches an echo of realism, it lacks the essential quality that life infuses into to flesh. Someday, maybe we will be able to walk into each other’s living space and interact via a plasma suit or body screen, but for now we travel via the soul of our words.
As a result, I will often disappear from WordPress, Facebook and other virtual connections for long stints. So until next time—

GONE FISHING

.

Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®

A Pixel World

a-pixel-world

A Pixel World

I have drifted away
like a feather
down the AuSable
River. I have entered
the homes of neighbors
and new found friends,
the tactile lives
of horses and cows,
the bitter bite
of winter ice
and sub-zero wind.

I have ignored you
like the TV news and all of its
cast of characters.
Most are forgotten, a few
I miss– like Life
Cameos, Richard Ankers and Sofia
Kioroglou.

I am not alone.

I am busy
writing books, interviewing
and being interviewed.
I read
eyes and smiles
without the interface.
It is better that way,
to not feel like a dot
in a pixel world.

Richard Rensberry, author at QuickTurtle Books®
amazon.com/author/richardrensberry