Thank you and neither do I. I have noticed that you having been posting a lot more message on the board of late and I guess,you do that because it brings to you a degree of solace as it brings to me.
Actually, I am using a tactic I picked up by osmosis reading German-Amerikan author/philosopher Robert Pirsig, more so in Lila than Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: My mind was stuck on exercises 15-17 in Chapter 20 of Stroustrup's C++ text, so early in the month I committed myself to using this period for the unconscious mind to work out its confusions about the code - to engage in a task that would require much patience and redundant going over and organizing, following through with why I would not want to burn EVERY SINGLE page when I burned my written slander against the universe into the sky.
So I am trying to stay committed, promising myself a new zest for the remaining exercise in chapter 20, and on into Algorithms and Maps in Ch 21 doe 2020.
I wish to move in turtle style, as a study of maths-as-art via programming.
The thoughts of ancestors hard-wired into code … beauty and elegance.
But on my bucket list is to give the world a little of my twisted soul which must be deeper than any impressions I might have left face to face. It might help them understand some of my bizarre schizophrenic behavior, or their own if they are too honest with themselves.
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The Mother is passing onto to me the art and craft of baking Swedish coffee roll - it's a bread with Cardamon seeds (from India!!). She is no longer strong enough to stir the nearly 5 pounds of flour, plus yeast, butter, milk …. there is cinnamon and sugar and optional nuts. raisins … When "relatively poor," these are the gifts from the heart people appreciate. It takes the entire day from early morning as dough must rise for a few hours, then formed, cut, shaped, then set to rise again for another few hours. Then cover with a little coffee and bake about 25 minutes at 350 F.
Few males are able to pull this feat off, and the VEE-BURR VITCHIZ keep their secrets, you know? My mom and I were able to pull off the transmission of this ancient Scandinavian breakfast bread, from crazy mom to crazier son.
Maybe I can become a baker in my own Fortress of Solitude, and be able to teach my nephew one day …