the hugging game

Morgan and I have known eachother for 6 months-- when I remembered this tonight I didn't stop there with my thinking in numbers... that's 1/2 a year... that's 1/50th of my life... that's 1/20th of the decade that is almost over.  

I think in fractions a lot-- they pretty much were the sole contributor to the will that drove my athleticism in college (imagine me during a race thinking, "I'm 1/5 done-- I only have to do that 4 more times, and 4 is a pretty small number, go team!").  Fractions get complicated though when you have to string them together because each one is relational-- it kind of messes up narrative linearity when your "whole" is at some times the unknown length of your life, at other times the time between you and the next weekend and then still at others the number of rainy blocks between you and a bus station.  

One of Morgan's slogans is that 'nothing lasts forever' which pretty much derails fractional thinking completely.  I'm totally not sure but I think it's supposed to make you want to fully invest in the present-- but for someone who thinks/lives/breathes fractionally it kind of deflates the comfort of "wholeness" by aligning it with "nothingness".  If zero and one are the same thing and nothing at all, what happens to the fractions in between?

Fractions were fun in school- I'm pretty sure that once Buddhism dismisses their relevance they must die and go to the most amazing fraction heaven ever-- a total part-y (get it?).  They limbo under one another's fraction bars, they cross-multiply, they add up and fall into pieces.  

The hugging game seems like an appropriate time to invite fractions back into the romantic picture, when two people are each half of something, a hug.  I was told that if people hug for a long time that their hearts will start beating together.  This might be totally untrue. I was also told that this will happen with companion pets like cats or dogs, so it's not like you need another person in your arms to experience synchronization-- just pick up something furry and breathing and squeeze.   

I got this post card from a discounted bin at an antique shop in Ithaca this summer.  It was sent from Blanche to Mabel on July 21, 1915:

Dear Blanche,

Hope you are having a fine time.  I am having a bum time.  Write that letter soon.  The pictures haven't come yet.  Does this card.  Went to the lake had some time.

Mabel