Melissa points out that the first minute of this just about perfectly describes my relationship with cooking:
It was true I always had trouble listening and remembering, trouble hearing people when they explained simple facts to me. When I read, my head seemed to go diagonal, and I swore I saw things in the sentences--not what I was supposed to see. When I read the words "moonlit swim," I saw the moonlight slicked all over the bare skin. The word "sunshine" had a washed look, with the sweep of a rag in the middle of it. The word "violinist" was a fig cut in half. "String quartet" was a cat's cradle held between two hands. "Penniless" was an empty copper outline and "prettiness" seemed to glitter. "Calamity" was alarm bells, and in "aristocrat" there was the sharp triangle of a cravat, and in "sea serpent" one loop of the green muscle. It was as if I could read the surfaces of words, and their real hearts, but not their information. Even "word" had a picture--I saw a blond hostess in a spangled dress turning black and white letters over one by one. When I read, the meaning swam and the images leaped out and the words gave up their doubles. When I wrote, the same thing happened with the paper.
--Patricia Lockwood's "Priestdaddy", memoirs of the poet, taking its name from her father's situation, who via an odd loophole of priestly conversion was a married-with-children Catholic Priest. Funny and sometimes heartbreaking I'd recommend it. I liked this passage, kind of a synesthesia of words. Bull by David Elliott- it's billed a "novel" but its form is a series of poems retelling the myth of the Minotaur, and would easily make a great dramatic reading, since each speaker has a distinct voice and meter. Great stuff that captures both the humanity and the grandeur of the old myths.
I like it better than This Is Fine Dog which stresses me out tbh.
Quotes from Dan Dennett's "Consciousness Explained" - I just reread this book, one that I've considered most critical to my understanding of my own sense of self...
If the resolution of our vision were as poor as the resolution of our olfaction, when a bird flew overhead the sky would *go all birdish* for us for a while.
The juvenile sea squirt wanders through the sea searching for a suitable rock or hunk of coral to cling to and make its home for life. For this task, it has a rudimentary nervous system. When it finds its spot and takes root, it doesn't need its brain anymore, so it eats it! (It's rather like getting tenure.)
(paraphrase of neuroscientist Rodolfo Llinás.)
Consciousness is gappy and sparse, and doesn't contain half of what people think is there!
"We speak, not only to tell others what we think, but to tell ourselves what we think. "
--J. Hughlings Jackson
"How can I tell what I think until I see what I say?"
"Before my teacher came to me, I did not know that I am. I lived in a world that was a no-world. I cannot hope to describe adequately that unconscious, yet conscious time of nothingness.... Since I had no power of thought, I did not compare one mental state with another."
"Sometimes I am, sometimes I think."
--François Schuiten, via White Space Conflict tumblr with more examples
----Linda on "Better Off Ted" (I've used (as recently as yesterday) another line from the same episode as a hint to transition back when a corporate chatroom conversation or in person office bit of goofballery has gone off the rails: "Meanwhile, back in a place of business...")
--Eric Barker, in This Is How To Be Productive: 4 Secrets From The Stoics. (I always dig reminders of stoicism.) Also, that is a great weekly email newsletter.
"Leaving this here for anyone who thinks a one sentence short story can't break your heart: Tiny Jumping Spiders Can See the Moon"