I was reminded today that my memory sucks.
I asked Andy Sautins — raconteur and gentleman about town — about a project that he’s beeen working on for some time, and he pointed out that a few months ago we’d had a fairly long conversation on the very topic about which I was asking. In my defense…I guess…we were both drinking during that initial conversation, but it was nevertheless a little embarassing.
Over the past year or two I’ve been trying to better manage my tendancy towards absent-mindedness, with some success. I’ve figured out some of what I need to do to keep more of the importanct active things, both personal and professional, available in my head, and am better about finding tools that I’ll actually use to help manage whatever doesn’t fit into my head (backpack, anyone?).
Even so, it’s irritating to me that I seem to have relatively little available brainspace when I can sit here and — without having to dig at all — type out the voiceover from the TV show Renegade:
He was a cop, and good at his job…but he committed the ultimate sin and testified against other cops gone bad — cops that tried to kill him, but got the woman he loved instead. Now, framed for murder, he prowls the badlands: an outlaw, hunting outlaws…a bounty hunter…a renegade.
That’s, like, 250 bytes of storage that I’m apparently never going to be able to reclaim for any other purpose.