when everything is "gone"

What is it like when everything is gone? The question arises in light of my computer's decision to give up the ghost last week. In its demise, all sorts of files and tailings were eradicated. Now, there is a 'new' computer my wife bought. When I asked if I got a say in what she might purchase as a replacement, she said "no." As a result, I have a 'new' Windows 10 machine -- it's undue complications are ... well, all I can think is "stupid," but of course I am the one who is stupid.

But what of the losses. I thought I might be left bereft with all the bookmarks and memories that piled up and piled up in "favorites" bin. Then, in a single moment, they were gone. What is that like ... when everything is gone? I thought I might feel the less without them, but the strange thing was, like books on a shelf, there was an odd sense that I didn't really miss them at all. Very odd.

"All it takes is a couple of days without it and the addiction lets up," my older son, Angus, said.

All those links to news, spiritual life, movies and blah-blah-blah piled slophonus-fashion in the "favorites" bin. Gone. "But what if I needed them?" something shrieked within?

After several days without them, the mirror question raised its head: "What if I didn't need them?" True, I learned quickly that television was no place to look for the amount and kind of news I expected ... there is no news on the television news shows.

I mean that literally and it surprised me. Each outlet -- CBS, NBC, ABC or whatever -- seems to provide three news stories, perhaps, and then the  three or four talking heads -- tastefully balanced with racial minorities, mixed sexes, capped teeth, fashion-statement clothes and vapid opinions -- talking about what to fucking eat or how to arrange your sock drawer. And smiles that would blind a dead horse. OK... no news. And difficulty signing in here and there. There was no serious news.

And there were the endless, endless ads I hope to eradicate ... if I get around to it. Bit by bit, I inch back. Two steps forward and one step back. All I need is a savvy teenager to show me the way ... my family doesn't care much what I want as long as they can shop. Sometimes the selfishness gets to me, but what the hell, it's too late now.

What is it like when everything is gone? I don't know. It seems like everything appears. I will have to reconfigure the day, but since there's not much on my plate, that shouldn't be all that hard. But since I am getting weaker, "hard" is a relative term.