Narrative fallacy

Going through my notes from the UK trip, so things may appear to be out of order

Garbo

Other than occasionally and subconsciously, the past has very little meaning for me. It's an effort to go back there, and rarely worth it. Every five years or so my life starts again, and the people and the places that I knew either leave or are left. I'm out of the habit of dwelling on the past, and now it feels forced and ridiculous, like watching TV after years of not having one.

The future also doesn't really interest me. I try to keep healthy and save money, do things I enjoy. Those things done, the future will take care of itself as best it can, it's not something I need to worry about.

Monroe - this is war

I was back in the UK when I wrote this, staying with my parents, in a place that has no immediate past or future for me, only memories of 20 years ago, and it's hard to connect myself to those events or feelings. What's the point of even trying? I'm fascinated by the idea that there is only now, and that by thinking about the past or the future I'll miss out on what I think and feel now, even though the ideal - which I seem to be approaching with great speed - is perhaps to barely think, to only feel and then move on.

One of my original sicknesses was that when I used to live in the UK I only lived in the past and the future, and it never made me happy.

I don't know if living in the present has made me happier, or if being happier has made me live in the present.

I used to believe in narrative, but now I think it only belongs in fiction. I barely even believe in events. When one thing happens - say a meeting with an old friend - so many things are going on that only a few things can ever be corralled into misrepresenting the whole. More specifically, when and where do things start, when and where do they end?

If /when I get Alzheimer's I don't think much will change. My life [a narrative fallacy] will be a trip to satori / senility, and no doubt a nightmare for my wife.