Monkeys, typewriters, and random numbers
This one’s going to be short, as are all of my posts like these. Reason tells me that it’s all just coincidence, but I swear there’s an uncanny correlation sometimes. iTunes will randomly pick songs in its party shuffle, yet out of thousands of songs and only a few hours of play time, it always manages to find one—usually new to me—that captures my state of mind.
Here’s the good song it found for me tonight. I could hear it in the notes before I followed the words.
Though Adam was a friend of mine, I did not know him well;he was alone into his distance;he was deep into his well.I could guess what he was laughing at, but I couldn’t really tell.Now the stories told that Adam jumped, but I’m thinking that he fell…
Together we went traveling, as we received the call;his destination India, and I had none at all.Well, I still remember laughing with our backs against the wall;so free of fear, we never thought that one of us might fall.
I sit before my only candle, but it’s so little light to find my way.Now this story unfolds before my candle,which is shorter every hour as it reaches for the day.But I feel just like a candle, in the wayI guess I’ll get there, but I wouldn’t say for sure.
When we parted we were laughing still, as our goodbyes were said,and I never heard from him again, as each our lives we led.Except for once in someone else’s letter that I read…until I heard the sudden word that a friend of mine was dead.
I sit before my only candle, like a pilgrim sits beside the way.Now this journey appears before my candleas a song that’s growing fainter, the harder that I play.But I fear before I end, I’ll fade away…but I guess I’ll get there, though I wouldn’t say for sure.
Though Adam was a friend of mine, I did not know him long.And when I stood myself beside him, I never thought I was as strong.Still it seems he stopped his singing in the middle of his song,but I’m not the one to say I know, but I’m hoping he was wrong
I’m holding out my only candle; though it’s so little light to find my way.Now this story’s been been laid beneath my candle,and it’s shorter every hour as it reaches for the day.Yes, I feel just like a candle, in the wayI hope I’ll get there, but I never pray.
Jackson Browne, Song for Adam
An infinite number of monkeys using an infinite number of typewriters to generate an infinite quantity of random numbers, and the reality is they still manage to find one that hits close to home… figures.
And that’s about it for now. Back to work.