I had worked a night shift. The dog woke me at lunch time. Re must have just left for work. I tried to sleep more but I was awake. I took the dog down the beach for a walk. Picked up some beer, food and milk on the way home. I texted both of my boys and Re. At home I ate one of the hot dog sausages, I gave another one to the dog. I opened a beer and put on a play list.
The thoughts that accompanied me so far today have included the idea that the human race just needs to be organised a bit better. This is the self professed plan of Google. Yuval Harari suggests artificial intelligence will do the job, he's probably right. We are a useless generation. I wondered what sort of people or entities would eventually be pulling our levers once we were organised? Would we mind? What would we achieve and why would we achieve it? What would our thoughts and feelings be whilst we worked towards these goals? The irony of such useless thoughts was not lost on me.
I was feeling lonely as I was texting my boys. I miss our silly conversations. I miss watching rubbish telly with them. I leave ribbons of my heart attached to everyone I love.
My Dad gave me a Treasure Chest when I was a boy. It was a box he'd made with a hinged lid and iron corners it smelt like dusty old wood. I kept my random child oddments in it. The contents were never as valuable to me as the box was. Inside the lid I wrote a short list of my friends. The list had perhaps three names. One of the names may have been, Minta the family dog. I remember struggling with the idea of comitting a name to the box. Could I trust them to remain true? Would the act of writing the name change our friendship? Some years ago on a visit to my Dad he offered me the box to take home. I did not take it as I was worried that the Australian customs would not allow it across their bureaucratic borders. I left it. Another ribbon of my heart with my Dad.
Now the sun is setting behind Roberts Hill. The dog is noisily chewing something. My second beer is getting warm and it won't drink itself.