I'll look at a digital clock, and immediately think of something other than the time of day – make some deeply ingrained association.
Eleven minutes after seven? Why, that's a convenience store. Three minutes later? Babe Ruth hit 714 home runs.
12:25? Happy holidays! 2:55? A terrible plane crash back in '87.
There are several associated with the Kennedy case, like 11:22, 11:24, and 5:44 (Camp Street).
And then there's 9:11.
6:26 was part of my phone number as a kid, in the pre-smart phone era. The area code was 3:13. Later I moved to 3:03.
My birthday shows up on the clock twice a day, but is a closely guarded secret I shan't reveal here.
Every now and then I make some new association.
I don't dwell on these things, but they do crop up. Damned unconscious! I can't seem to help it.
And then there's 9:11.
6:26 was part of my phone number as a kid, in the pre-smart phone era. The area code was 3:13. Later I moved to 3:03.
My birthday shows up on the clock twice a day, but is a closely guarded secret I shan't reveal here.
Every now and then I make some new association.
I don't dwell on these things, but they do crop up. Damned unconscious! I can't seem to help it.
No comments:
Post a Comment