Why All Things Are Connected

Listening to Music in Twelve Parts – All of them.

As part of a bit of experimenting with Neural Nets I have read about how Neurons transmit their signals between each other. One of the major chemicals involved in this is Serotonin which is manufactured in the body from Tryptophan. This is found in all sorts of things that I gave up after seeing my fat face in the company phone directory. I stopped taking change into work to avoid buying chocolate from the machines. Low serotonin levels are responsible for low moods – antidepressants work by stopping the re-absorption of serotonin rather than by increasing its production. I suppose I should increase my levels of exercise if I want to start eating loads of chocolate and peanuts again. Strangely I got a sudden and overwhelming desire for a bag of dry-roasted yesterday but I couldn’t find any in any of the shops outside the station so I made do with Word magazine instead, which may or may not have any affect on serotonin levels.

My move to this new site let me avoid the fatal crash which blocked the M6 for 8 hours yesterday. It took place at junction 27 at 06:50 which is about the time I normally pass it. Now the butterfly effect or some element of our quantum universe might well have meant that had I been on the motorway, the crash would not have happened at all so I cannot tell whether my life has been saved or that the accident was my fault entirely but as Julie Birchill seems to say in Word this month, what is the point of worrying about things like this. Things may be connected and you can analyse what happens and what the cause and effect is right down to the day of judgement or the big crunch or even to the infinity of existence that might somehow be created in the finite and infinitesimal seconds before the complete destruction of the universe. None of this will make the tiniest bit of difference to what you experience. Be as cautious as you like but you will be bored for ever so drink that fully-caffeinated attempt at coffee that the machines produce – sink as many bacon butties as you like – your allotted time will be the same. That damn butterfly somewhere in Ecuador probably will flap his wings and that will be all it takes to send your serotonin levels plummeting. Rant away.

The baby wrote the following paragraph while I was away from the keyboard.

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Already using more ‘I’s than Michael Winner and more '9's than Ian Paisley on a trip to Germany.

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