In what way is your body a temple? Do your tattoos tell a whole story?
A group of scientifically-minded friends of mine gave up on their antigravity machine. Instead, they are taking recent data collected from a very expensive instrument to attempt to build an antimass machine.
They had successfully gotten their antigravity machine to work but it kept pushing away Earth and attracting the Moon, messing with tides and centripetal storm forces, rather than allowing my friends to float freely wherever they wished to go.
To know I do not exist is not an easy task to maintain, pretending as I do to participate in the mass hypnosis we call our culture of subcultures. However, I cannot get to where being nonexistent is without giving up the fun of the hypnosis.
In any case, 'tis fun to have fun with the truth in plain view of those who do not know the truth and wouldn't know how to handle the truth so let them keep pretending and I'll play along 'cause I'm well-trained and easy to get along with in these conditions.
Meanwhile, the seduction of our youth in the game of who gets to claim the greatest influence of them moves forward.
Cycles within cycles neverending.
Imagine, for the sake of hypothesis, an extraterrestrial existence (EE) that encounters Earth. The EE doesn't need our resources, finds our definition of intelligence/enlightenment hardly worth considering any different than the survival techniques developed by the other states of energy we call forms of life and thus puts us down as just another planetary example of how the universe swirls up little eddies of different but uninteresting quanta.
Perhaps you've already imagined or read of others' imaginations to that effect.
Point being we are not the center of our known universe, let alone the center of the sum total of existence of the states of energy as we know them now.
So far this morning, a chipmunk and granddaddy longlegs have darted under my chair and a hummingbird has buzzed my ears, the nearby background filled with trees, insects and chirping birds. No more sound of private aeroplanes in the sky - a lost sound of independence.
If TV channels give way to Internet apps, what becomes of independent thinkers who want no gated communities of the thought process blocking their meandering wonderment?
And no, capitalism does not cause poverty. The ways people quench their hunger vary considerably. Personalities take up space comfortably in a large range of sizes. Some are satisfied with a piece of bread and some are not satisfied with a whole planet of wheat fields and bakeries.
Labels are easy to apply and not so easy to remove. Do not confuse capitalism and communism as distinct features of how we live. We barter our way through life - always have and always will. How we barter is a matter of changing tastes and survival techniques. Our skill sets seem to change but don't - we use our bodies and the stuff around us to transform ourselves constantly.
Do you force, coerce and/or encourage those around you to increase their activity, whether "physical" or "mental," in order to increase the means of barter for you and those who you consider your personal friends, colleagues, associates and family? How do you define the increase?: "improved productivity," "pleasing God in more ways everyday," "serving the people more efficiently," "making me richer in your honour"?
How you wish to present the emperor's new clothes to others is up to you but always, always, always be aware that not everyone is fooled.
These are ancient times. We still live like barbarians, slaughtering each other to get ahead, cutting off deer heads to claim superiourity, and boiling sassafras roots to cure ills we know little about.
Never assume this is the age to end all ages. Tens of hundreds of thousands of years will we continue to carve niches to call our own.
As we move into the moment when we discover we are not the center of the universe, let us pause to consider the points of view of extraterrestrial existence that knows us and the EE that doesn't. When we successfully see those views (and we never completely will, any more than we completely know another person), we'll see ourselves in a brighter light, too.
Is our species prepared to realign its goals to show we are a totally cooperative, non self-centered species rather than a warring, cannibalistic species?
Words are meaningless, ultimately. Thoughts are fleeting fantasies with no connection to reality.
Are you ready to have everything you know - all the plants, animals, buildings, social networks and history - change in what will feel like an instant but actually taken a longer time than you'll comparatively remember?
I do not exist. My name and face have no place, being only a placeholder, a mirage, an image representing states of energy.
I do not own the world but this world is mine to give away or save as I please. I choose to save the world because, although I find so much that is wrong with the way we treat one another and the other forms of life on this planet, there is so much more that is right about us and the way states of energy like us have found to exist.
How will you react when you find we are not alone? Will you form a defensive posture? Will you feel guilty? Will you welcome all the unknowns, including the benign "virus" that could reconfigure all of life as we know it? Would you accept that "alien" states of energy have flowed through us since the beginning of time, that there was never a moment we were not all part of the same universe-within-a-universe-outside-a-universe-within-...?
And if thinking was not part of what we'll do when we encounter that which we did not consciously know existed before?
What if we find our daily lives change very little by new information? Will we feel lesser or greater, better or worse, because we aren't the only things wiggling about in space?
We want the familiar. We want to interact the way we've been taught to interact through our socially-acceptable upbringing (according to local subcultural standards, of course), even if our interaction is considered counter- or antisocial.
These words do not exist and you might be able to see that it is so/not so.
States of energy influencing other states of energy, ad infinitum, with no end in sight.
We want levels of influence to keep increasing in order to provide our children bigger goals than the ones we accomplished in our finite lives.
What if the levels our children seek are so outside our realm of understanding we'll never appreciate what they're trying to accomplish while we're alive?
They already are.
Showing posts with label technology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label technology. Show all posts
2010-09-22
2010-09-08
Fall, Fall, Fall
Talked with friends at the U-Save pharmacy yesterday while medication information was computerised.
Learned that end-stage lung cancer does not end a mother's love of life and concern for her children.
Heard that in times past you could just tell the local Ford dealer you were ready to take delivery of whatever the latest model is that's equivalent to the last one you bought; they'd drive the new car to your house and take a check, no stack of paperwork or six-month waiting list for factory order required.
Local "boys," long since retired, sitting on a bench in the town square, remembered my 93-year young mother in-law teaching them a sixth grade subject in 1954. They were curious as to her dietary secret (no alcohol, no tobacco, small meals, no heavy stress on the musculoskeletal system, weekly bridge club, active religious life (multiple daily readings of familiar religious text, lots of praying and no worries)).
Times change. The perspective of better or worse belongs to those who think perspectively.
The faces of small towns change, often imperceptibly. Relatively quick changes cause consternation when seen as incomprehensible.
I can't go back to another time, not only because it's impossible but also because it never existed the way I imagined it did. All I want are the happy conveniences that we shared, modernised, of course.
We're locavores because we eat food off this planet, nourished for the most part by our local star.
I have the highest expectations for our youngest generation because they're lucky enough to live in the best of times and the worst of times during their formative years (or close thereafter).
How many of you have a 100, 500, or 1000 year plan? I'm telling you it's about time you did. Then you'd see that a 10,000 or 100,000 year plan is not that impossible to imagine setting up and implementing.
Landfills are gold mines, my friends. Nuclear waste is unharvested energy. Solar flares are reset buttons. Getting a living idea of us away from this solar system (and surviving) will take all of our coordinated efforts. Hindsight is time wasted regretting lost opportunities.
Prove to me you see the bigger picture, no matter who you are, and I'll support you. Otherwise, you're a pawn willing to be used in the game of life played by others looking for short-term profits taken at your expense. Either way, all of us equally important and taken into account.
Life doesn't change but your perspective can.
Learned that end-stage lung cancer does not end a mother's love of life and concern for her children.
Heard that in times past you could just tell the local Ford dealer you were ready to take delivery of whatever the latest model is that's equivalent to the last one you bought; they'd drive the new car to your house and take a check, no stack of paperwork or six-month waiting list for factory order required.
Local "boys," long since retired, sitting on a bench in the town square, remembered my 93-year young mother in-law teaching them a sixth grade subject in 1954. They were curious as to her dietary secret (no alcohol, no tobacco, small meals, no heavy stress on the musculoskeletal system, weekly bridge club, active religious life (multiple daily readings of familiar religious text, lots of praying and no worries)).
Times change. The perspective of better or worse belongs to those who think perspectively.
The faces of small towns change, often imperceptibly. Relatively quick changes cause consternation when seen as incomprehensible.
I can't go back to another time, not only because it's impossible but also because it never existed the way I imagined it did. All I want are the happy conveniences that we shared, modernised, of course.
We're locavores because we eat food off this planet, nourished for the most part by our local star.
I have the highest expectations for our youngest generation because they're lucky enough to live in the best of times and the worst of times during their formative years (or close thereafter).
How many of you have a 100, 500, or 1000 year plan? I'm telling you it's about time you did. Then you'd see that a 10,000 or 100,000 year plan is not that impossible to imagine setting up and implementing.
Landfills are gold mines, my friends. Nuclear waste is unharvested energy. Solar flares are reset buttons. Getting a living idea of us away from this solar system (and surviving) will take all of our coordinated efforts. Hindsight is time wasted regretting lost opportunities.
Prove to me you see the bigger picture, no matter who you are, and I'll support you. Otherwise, you're a pawn willing to be used in the game of life played by others looking for short-term profits taken at your expense. Either way, all of us equally important and taken into account.
Life doesn't change but your perspective can.
2010-09-06
A Disaster Full Of Headlines
Formulaic. That's what she wanted me to believe she saw in the patterns outside the portal.
For weeks we'd argue about the meaning of one word, all the while creat8ng log entries of our thoughts.
Curry. Celticism. One well-discussed word per maintenance cycle.
We are the new breed, skinless yet skinned.
Our reports will reach you 6000 years from now. Will you know what our communication method, our language, intended?
Probably not. Give yourself another 6000 years to figure out.
We did. We will. We're the relay runners for a team you and we remember nothing about.
For weeks we'd argue about the meaning of one word, all the while creat8ng log entries of our thoughts.
Curry. Celticism. One well-discussed word per maintenance cycle.
We are the new breed, skinless yet skinned.
Our reports will reach you 6000 years from now. Will you know what our communication method, our language, intended?
Probably not. Give yourself another 6000 years to figure out.
We did. We will. We're the relay runners for a team you and we remember nothing about.
2010-09-02
Is Buddhism Pseudo-Christianity or the other way around?
Experts outside my network have informed me that Buddhism performed its usual role of absorbing and becoming part of the societies that argue about who has the best religion, overcoming Christianity, Islam, Judaism and Hinduism as the religion of choice amongst the world's youth, where peace rather than war is the word du jour.
Meanwhile, the Interplanetary Youth Brigade announced that all local, national and international political candidates and government workers on Earth must take the Turing Test in order to separate the robots from the real to properly point out who has been making decisions about how to wisely redistribute the people's public monies and who has been simply following preprogrammed instructions.
Friends reminded me they have fun with my light-hearted poke at conspiracies, showing me that the first generation of "discovered" artificial lifeforms is still under investigation by skeptics and believers alike, whilst I point out the youngest generation of our species continues working on the latest regeneration of artificial life.
A German reminds the Americans what they're supposed to be made of.
The Book of the Future has not stopped predicting that our species will merge with an artificial lifeform yet to be. The witch doctor warns us to be prepared for this transition period in which the old species will fall behind and use barbarianism to attempt one last defense of its existence, "losing" in the end (the witch doctor won't say why "losing" is in quotes, which could mean the old species won the war but lost the fight?).
Some of my colleagues, during post-processing of photographs of artifacts under glass, showed me the messages we were expecting in the 360-degree view we had been advised to look for. In a reflected image, using infrared and ultraviolet light filters, one finds much that the human eye cannot.
We shall respond to these messages when the prime opportunity presents itself shortly. Here is the code key we were asked to show at this time [you must use an amber CRT at 60 Hz refresh rate to decode it]:
Global empirebuilding creates no favourites, only flagrante flavours of the moment. Of course, since/because we live in the moment, we can't see anything but what we see.
Unless you knew the moment doesn't really exist.
Let's say you knew who was handholding the handholders who were leading the majority down the rosy path of living in the moment.
Let's say you were able to unplug the youngest generation from massively maneuvered mass media movements.
Let's say you were willing to face a high level of chaotic noise for something better, if not quieter.
Let's say you knew there was something and nothing more to know than what is there before you.
Very few could handle the destruction of all the self-deceptive veils that surround us.
If it's for the few that the rest of the species lives, then would you be okay with that?
Or would you rather believe that every individual reserves the right to become part of the few?
Should I say more? Certain colleagues say the precious cargo I carry is not ready for primetime. Best stick to humour and let the preplanned scenarios continue to play out.
Am I a player or the amateur professional amateur wondering wanderer I profess to be?
Those who put the moment to their best advantage are those to whom you'll pay attention the most. Why should I bother to divert your attention from simple gaze-based programming already built into us?
My friends in the drug cartel business are thrilled that Paris Hilton is getting so much attention with her [alleged] cocaine and marijuana use, hoping she'll get more attention, no matter whether it's because she received no jailtime or she received hard jailtime. Either way, it's free publicity for them! They thank my friends in the mass media business for continuing to promote freewheelers like Ms. Hilton - they say there's plenty money in the slush fund (in the guise of behind-the-scenes perks and overpaid adverts) to go around, now that one of their major distributors is in the hands of U.S. authorities, lowering the number of players and thus increasing their profitable slice of the pie.
Taking down a criminal is never the answer. Changing how the system works is. Do you know how?
Meanwhile, the Interplanetary Youth Brigade announced that all local, national and international political candidates and government workers on Earth must take the Turing Test in order to separate the robots from the real to properly point out who has been making decisions about how to wisely redistribute the people's public monies and who has been simply following preprogrammed instructions.
Friends reminded me they have fun with my light-hearted poke at conspiracies, showing me that the first generation of "discovered" artificial lifeforms is still under investigation by skeptics and believers alike, whilst I point out the youngest generation of our species continues working on the latest regeneration of artificial life.
A German reminds the Americans what they're supposed to be made of.
The Book of the Future has not stopped predicting that our species will merge with an artificial lifeform yet to be. The witch doctor warns us to be prepared for this transition period in which the old species will fall behind and use barbarianism to attempt one last defense of its existence, "losing" in the end (the witch doctor won't say why "losing" is in quotes, which could mean the old species won the war but lost the fight?).
Some of my colleagues, during post-processing of photographs of artifacts under glass, showed me the messages we were expecting in the 360-degree view we had been advised to look for. In a reflected image, using infrared and ultraviolet light filters, one finds much that the human eye cannot.
We shall respond to these messages when the prime opportunity presents itself shortly. Here is the code key we were asked to show at this time [you must use an amber CRT at 60 Hz refresh rate to decode it]:
Global empirebuilding creates no favourites, only flagrante flavours of the moment. Of course, since/because we live in the moment, we can't see anything but what we see.
Unless you knew the moment doesn't really exist.
Let's say you knew who was handholding the handholders who were leading the majority down the rosy path of living in the moment.
Let's say you were able to unplug the youngest generation from massively maneuvered mass media movements.
Let's say you were willing to face a high level of chaotic noise for something better, if not quieter.
Let's say you knew there was something and nothing more to know than what is there before you.
Very few could handle the destruction of all the self-deceptive veils that surround us.
If it's for the few that the rest of the species lives, then would you be okay with that?
Or would you rather believe that every individual reserves the right to become part of the few?
Should I say more? Certain colleagues say the precious cargo I carry is not ready for primetime. Best stick to humour and let the preplanned scenarios continue to play out.
Am I a player or the amateur professional amateur wondering wanderer I profess to be?
Those who put the moment to their best advantage are those to whom you'll pay attention the most. Why should I bother to divert your attention from simple gaze-based programming already built into us?
My friends in the drug cartel business are thrilled that Paris Hilton is getting so much attention with her [alleged] cocaine and marijuana use, hoping she'll get more attention, no matter whether it's because she received no jailtime or she received hard jailtime. Either way, it's free publicity for them! They thank my friends in the mass media business for continuing to promote freewheelers like Ms. Hilton - they say there's plenty money in the slush fund (in the guise of behind-the-scenes perks and overpaid adverts) to go around, now that one of their major distributors is in the hands of U.S. authorities, lowering the number of players and thus increasing their profitable slice of the pie.
Taking down a criminal is never the answer. Changing how the system works is. Do you know how?
2010-09-01
Hand Sanitiser
Sitting here watching the homely homage full of fromage called "Inglorious Basterds," I contemplate many things, such as a runaway jury, the wonder of it all, a family named Chobey allegedly building a "mother in-law" garage apartment to attach within five years to a main house (to which their neighbours will hold them, barring lawsuit activity in the interim) and Maggie working at a Ben Franklin store while Nicholas considers his college's consideration of abandoning the coast for safer turf inland and Chestney completes her senior year.
Never underestimate underestimation's power to underwhelm swimmingly underwater.
Is a Star Wars exhibit a place for science fiction or fictional science fiction? Where do you leave messages in plain public places in the arrangement that was gently suggested to occur randomly?
I don't care what happens today or tomorrow - it's what's planned for 1000 years from now that my associates have their claws into. Are you a dinosaur? A condor? An eagle? A hawk? A rat? A species that doesn't exist yet?
Ah, but you don't know what I'm talking about, do you? I haven't kindly shared the Book of the Future's view of us as the past recently, have I?
Shame on me.
It's a shame you don't know what's going to happen next.
Did you know there are young people who've connected via the Internet to create what I'll loosely call an invention but will better serve as a precursor to a new species in the near-term capable of surviving short-term exposure in the long-term vacuum of space?
Living, but not breathing.
Thinking, but not independent.
Beautiful, but not gorgeous.
Can you imagine being a being with hand sanitiser in your "veins"?
Can you imagine yourself merely existing in a high-pressure place like Earth but thriving elsewhere?
Would you believe the disposable income you give them will fund the greatest invention known to our species, all the while assuming you're paying for iPads, jeans and music/movie/game downloads?
Is it possible that the youngest generation will pool their resources to usurp the squandrous spending of their short-sighted parents?
You mean you don't understand the full power of, or the real reason for, the invention of the Internet?
You really thought it was just an exercise in military research funding?
Don't tell me your plots and charts and trends leave out the branches that branch out of and into the Law of Unintended Consequences?!
See what happens when you teach your children to think for themselves. They no longer bah like sheep, seeing social media for what it is and never will be. The power of the crowd is slumbersome. The independent thinkers who wear sheep's clothing lead the way quietly, transparently and for the lives of those living thousands of years from now.
Go back to sleep now. We don't want to disturb your cumbersome dreams.
Heard another rumour, that hand sanitiser contains the nanotechnology we wanted to implant in you but wanted to do it with your ready compliance and full cooperation, in order to test a theory that a species can be transformed to another species through artificial environmental conditioning, only if the species is not stressed in the process, having already accepted fluoridation and chlorination without question.
Now who would spread rumours like that? Bring them to me immediately! We shall give them big salaries, large offices and extra-long, important-sounding job titles.
Never underestimate underestimation's power to underwhelm swimmingly underwater.
Is a Star Wars exhibit a place for science fiction or fictional science fiction? Where do you leave messages in plain public places in the arrangement that was gently suggested to occur randomly?
I don't care what happens today or tomorrow - it's what's planned for 1000 years from now that my associates have their claws into. Are you a dinosaur? A condor? An eagle? A hawk? A rat? A species that doesn't exist yet?
Ah, but you don't know what I'm talking about, do you? I haven't kindly shared the Book of the Future's view of us as the past recently, have I?
Shame on me.
It's a shame you don't know what's going to happen next.
Did you know there are young people who've connected via the Internet to create what I'll loosely call an invention but will better serve as a precursor to a new species in the near-term capable of surviving short-term exposure in the long-term vacuum of space?
Living, but not breathing.
Thinking, but not independent.
Beautiful, but not gorgeous.
Can you imagine being a being with hand sanitiser in your "veins"?
Can you imagine yourself merely existing in a high-pressure place like Earth but thriving elsewhere?
Would you believe the disposable income you give them will fund the greatest invention known to our species, all the while assuming you're paying for iPads, jeans and music/movie/game downloads?
Is it possible that the youngest generation will pool their resources to usurp the squandrous spending of their short-sighted parents?
You mean you don't understand the full power of, or the real reason for, the invention of the Internet?
You really thought it was just an exercise in military research funding?
Don't tell me your plots and charts and trends leave out the branches that branch out of and into the Law of Unintended Consequences?!
See what happens when you teach your children to think for themselves. They no longer bah like sheep, seeing social media for what it is and never will be. The power of the crowd is slumbersome. The independent thinkers who wear sheep's clothing lead the way quietly, transparently and for the lives of those living thousands of years from now.
Go back to sleep now. We don't want to disturb your cumbersome dreams.
Heard another rumour, that hand sanitiser contains the nanotechnology we wanted to implant in you but wanted to do it with your ready compliance and full cooperation, in order to test a theory that a species can be transformed to another species through artificial environmental conditioning, only if the species is not stressed in the process, having already accepted fluoridation and chlorination without question.
Now who would spread rumours like that? Bring them to me immediately! We shall give them big salaries, large offices and extra-long, important-sounding job titles.
Ninety Years Later
Did you celebrate on 26th August 2010? If anyone made a big deal of 90 years of women's suffrage in the United States, I missed it. And yet...
Yet, here we are, contemplating a not-so-unique-anymore idea in 2010 - Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Ann Dunwoody on the 2012 Republican Party ticket, switching Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin over to the Tea Party nomination to keep people in suspense for the runup to the runoffs.
Meanwhile, Steve Jobs does his job getting the Apple faithful excited about the new iPod changes, after talking about gaming and iOS 4.2. First the shuffle, and then...
Where would we be if we didn't have something interesting to bite our teeth into?
Yet, here we are, contemplating a not-so-unique-anymore idea in 2010 - Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Ann Dunwoody on the 2012 Republican Party ticket, switching Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin over to the Tea Party nomination to keep people in suspense for the runup to the runoffs.
Meanwhile, Steve Jobs does his job getting the Apple faithful excited about the new iPod changes, after talking about gaming and iOS 4.2. First the shuffle, and then...
Where would we be if we didn't have something interesting to bite our teeth into?
2010-08-22
Frozen Spoonful Of Hormonal Goodness
Guess keeping unnatural cow products out of our diet is the best way to avoid problems? Maybe:
Is Your Favorite Ice Cream Made With Monsanto's Artificial Hormones?
Is Your Favorite Ice Cream Made With Monsanto's Artificial Hormones?
A Running Bucket
Despite not knowing the value of validity, the thought experiment persists: would I be surprised to know no one reads this blog because I really don't exist?
The tall, thin stalks around me are not tree rings. The absence of direct sunlight in the middle of the day is not clouds. Labels exist, representing nothing.
What, then, do I represent?
Small thoughts. Medium-sized thoughts. Large thoughts. The watery reflection of sunlight dancing on the underside of a fig leaf. Are they not all the same?
States of energy.
Yet pain feels real. Healing takes time.
I cannot absent self from self. There is no way for this intersection of states of energy to exist outside the moment.
To reorganise the unstructured...to see that seeing creates the illusory importance of seeing...
The earthworm is as destructive a force in reducing ecosystem diversity as we are, no more aware of its unintended consequences eating dirt than I am writing these words.
To speak the language of the stars, one loses all sense of self, no longer tied to translating the indecipherable into a species' limited means of communicating.
States of energy.
When we learn more, when we create a space traveler which is us (a thinker) and yet not us (different materialistic composition), we have accomplished more than we'll ever know.
The space traveler will create its own missions, duties, and sense of destiny, and we'll hope but never know if any likeness/memory of us goes along with it to encounter that which we've dreamed of from our prehistoric days of seeking - permanent fertile land (for it, in that case, not for us).
What of us? We'll still find ways to travel in our current forms, tearing down and rebuilding civilisations for the sake of variety (as the cast of characters constantly changes). Over long stretches of time, the ecosphere will absorb our changes, changing us as we keep changing it.
Every moment is a point of no return, the tipping point from which we roll over into the next moment.
Time to join my feline friends in a nonpurposeful, unscheduled catnap and dream of what our new form will be like when we're no longer us in a moment I may not live to see. A beam of invisible light is as much a form as a body...zzzzz...
2010-08-18
We Are Living In A Satirical World
Tree bark... mobo. Redbud pods. 4-40 screws. Glue sticks. Tea bags. RCA plugs. Sunlight. Horizontal blinds. Drop cords. Nails. Picture frames. Wall studs. Culverts. River rocks. Arm hair. Awnings. Slogans. Storage. Model rockets. Velcro wallets.
Talking through my fingertips. Listening to the wind blow through the woods. Walked through the neighbourhood. Smelled fresh-cut pine boards in unfinished house and dead pine limbs piled in the ditch. Late summer. Roadkill squirrel on the road surrounded by flies.
Misplaced modifiers echoing humour of the dry variety.
We participate in our illogical, unexplainable social gatherings, unaware of no purpose whatsoever.
The Internet is the novel that never ends. [Who said that already?]
On whom do you depend to tell you how to best spend your disposable income?
To whom do you turn to provide you guidance in areas of life that are fuzzy and make no sense?
These are not my words. I didn't invent them or reinvent them. I merely show my well-trained youth in how I put these words together, training I received in both formal and informal settings.
And yet I think I continue my education, even though I, like everyone else, it appears, am, barring major damage to my body/psyche, spending my life reaffirming the personality that was formed by the time I was five.
Do I need confirmation that my image of self is surprisingly reflected somewhere in the anonymous masses? Is it not obvious that I am a member of my species?
Blow, wind, blow. Feel the hot air virtually pouring onto this electronic paper.
It doesn't matter who I am. It matters. What is "it"? It is us, you, we, them, her, him, me.
Our species will spin around itself in subcultural swirls in time immemorial. We'll say the same things over and over, climbing over the pile of the bodies of the subcultures we overcame that overcame our subcultures that we'll overcome that will overcome our subcultures again and again.
I can spend my moments here satirising those subcultures. Or...
I can spend my moments everywhere making sure we focus enough of our species' resources to open up channels to the stars upon which waves of our mixed subcultures flow outward.
I'm not a technical wizard. I am not a programming genius. Otherwise, I'd gather with friends in the international community and help build our own launchpads and liveable space habitats, knowing some of us would end up like Bruce Dern and the crew in "Silent Running," at odds with one another over the primary mission, thus requiring multiple launches to ensure one or more crews succeeded in exiting this solar system.
Where would we go? In some ways, it wouldn't matter, as long as we ventured outward, serving as extraterrestrial guinea pigs and shining beacons for our species.
Instead of...
Instead of, like, for sure, spending our time, you know, on, like, more stuff we can buy with, like, our, you know, our, uh... disposable income.
Eventually we'll find a viable extrasolar landing spot ("invading species" ethics aside), having reinvented ourselves many times over on the way there.
Meanwhile, I'm mired in the leftover detritus of our disposable stuff, wondering why I'm here, caught in a satire of a satire of the satirical world I imagined at age five. If the joke's on me, who's laughing?
Being happy and melancholy is my lot in life, joyously so. Writing is my hobby, given to me by my ancestors. Observing the universe, the only way I know how/where to live, is my comic relief.
If anyone happens to come upon this blog and reads it, don't take what I say seriously. I'm uncomfortable with where certain parts of our species are headed and thus use this blog to subvert my discomfort through the use of parody. It is what I do with who I am. I mean no harm. I plan no revolution. You, not I, decide how you want to live your lives.
Remember, history books record massive changes in our species' actions, not the regular, normal activities we create to reproduce and preserve our species and the ecosystems in which we live our daily lives. Regular folks like me don't want to foment revolutions - we just want to find a relatively easy place to settle down and take care of family, our names and faces unknown to friendly nameless and faceless people on the other side of the planet. Peace is about sharing, war is about taking away.
Be wary of people who seek the limelight. On the flip side, idle idol worship is even an odd game to play.
Not everything has to make sense. Can we teach our children to live successful lives every day without fostering a heavy belief in heroes/heroines?
Another day full of questions. I'm glad I write this to myself in the belief I'm the only one who reads this. I can be me, transparent and free.
Time to step away from this technological portal and watch the world silently, another day of my life spent doing nothing much important, a life no more or less important in the grand scheme of things.
You can figure out for yourselves how to live together with your neighbours and family. It's not easy. It's not hard. It just is.
Talking through my fingertips. Listening to the wind blow through the woods. Walked through the neighbourhood. Smelled fresh-cut pine boards in unfinished house and dead pine limbs piled in the ditch. Late summer. Roadkill squirrel on the road surrounded by flies.
Misplaced modifiers echoing humour of the dry variety.
We participate in our illogical, unexplainable social gatherings, unaware of no purpose whatsoever.
The Internet is the novel that never ends. [Who said that already?]
On whom do you depend to tell you how to best spend your disposable income?
To whom do you turn to provide you guidance in areas of life that are fuzzy and make no sense?
These are not my words. I didn't invent them or reinvent them. I merely show my well-trained youth in how I put these words together, training I received in both formal and informal settings.
And yet I think I continue my education, even though I, like everyone else, it appears, am, barring major damage to my body/psyche, spending my life reaffirming the personality that was formed by the time I was five.
Do I need confirmation that my image of self is surprisingly reflected somewhere in the anonymous masses? Is it not obvious that I am a member of my species?
Blow, wind, blow. Feel the hot air virtually pouring onto this electronic paper.
It doesn't matter who I am. It matters. What is "it"? It is us, you, we, them, her, him, me.
Our species will spin around itself in subcultural swirls in time immemorial. We'll say the same things over and over, climbing over the pile of the bodies of the subcultures we overcame that overcame our subcultures that we'll overcome that will overcome our subcultures again and again.
I can spend my moments here satirising those subcultures. Or...
I can spend my moments everywhere making sure we focus enough of our species' resources to open up channels to the stars upon which waves of our mixed subcultures flow outward.
I'm not a technical wizard. I am not a programming genius. Otherwise, I'd gather with friends in the international community and help build our own launchpads and liveable space habitats, knowing some of us would end up like Bruce Dern and the crew in "Silent Running," at odds with one another over the primary mission, thus requiring multiple launches to ensure one or more crews succeeded in exiting this solar system.
Where would we go? In some ways, it wouldn't matter, as long as we ventured outward, serving as extraterrestrial guinea pigs and shining beacons for our species.
Instead of...
Instead of, like, for sure, spending our time, you know, on, like, more stuff we can buy with, like, our, you know, our, uh... disposable income.
Eventually we'll find a viable extrasolar landing spot ("invading species" ethics aside), having reinvented ourselves many times over on the way there.
Meanwhile, I'm mired in the leftover detritus of our disposable stuff, wondering why I'm here, caught in a satire of a satire of the satirical world I imagined at age five. If the joke's on me, who's laughing?
Being happy and melancholy is my lot in life, joyously so. Writing is my hobby, given to me by my ancestors. Observing the universe, the only way I know how/where to live, is my comic relief.
If anyone happens to come upon this blog and reads it, don't take what I say seriously. I'm uncomfortable with where certain parts of our species are headed and thus use this blog to subvert my discomfort through the use of parody. It is what I do with who I am. I mean no harm. I plan no revolution. You, not I, decide how you want to live your lives.
Remember, history books record massive changes in our species' actions, not the regular, normal activities we create to reproduce and preserve our species and the ecosystems in which we live our daily lives. Regular folks like me don't want to foment revolutions - we just want to find a relatively easy place to settle down and take care of family, our names and faces unknown to friendly nameless and faceless people on the other side of the planet. Peace is about sharing, war is about taking away.
Be wary of people who seek the limelight. On the flip side, idle idol worship is even an odd game to play.
Not everything has to make sense. Can we teach our children to live successful lives every day without fostering a heavy belief in heroes/heroines?
Another day full of questions. I'm glad I write this to myself in the belief I'm the only one who reads this. I can be me, transparent and free.
Time to step away from this technological portal and watch the world silently, another day of my life spent doing nothing much important, a life no more or less important in the grand scheme of things.
You can figure out for yourselves how to live together with your neighbours and family. It's not easy. It's not hard. It just is.
2010-08-13
Is That A Supercomputer Floating In Your Drink?
Cold scientific facts to the rescue:
"High-temperature" fractals
2010-08-11
Modular Emotion System
Pardon my delay in responding to some of your inquiries - recent airplane travel required the removal of my brain implant. Reinstallation took longer than usual to reacquire normative parameter settings.
Question: if a commander does not support his senior enlisted staff, should he re-educate himself or receive reprimands? Surely, he is not insuperordinate? Don't make me call out lack of respect in the chain of command.
If a worker is credited for work she did not perform, should her superiours' superiours receive detailed reports suggesting appropriate action to save a critical project from imploding due to low morale and high stress amongst her coworkers?
In my father's youth, he was told that the horse owned by his Granddad (Frank E.) had race horse blood (i.e., bloodline). He would not let another horse-drawn vehicle pass him. He would speed up on his own to prevent that. That must have been the "hot-rodding" of the day. My father's grandmother (Mamaw) was known as a fast driver of the "horse and buggy" and the Model T Ford that succeeded the horse, so fast driving must be in our blood as well! Horse and Model T were gone before my father's birth. In the post-Depression and WWII days, they walked!
If you could eat regolith to feed your metallic liquid "blood" system based on redesigned DNA, would you? If you no longer had to breathe, what would your sense of time feel like?
More as it develops... but then again, who's using camera film these days? You are if you don't want electronic records.
Question: if a commander does not support his senior enlisted staff, should he re-educate himself or receive reprimands? Surely, he is not insuperordinate? Don't make me call out lack of respect in the chain of command.
If a worker is credited for work she did not perform, should her superiours' superiours receive detailed reports suggesting appropriate action to save a critical project from imploding due to low morale and high stress amongst her coworkers?
In my father's youth, he was told that the horse owned by his Granddad (Frank E.) had race horse blood (i.e., bloodline). He would not let another horse-drawn vehicle pass him. He would speed up on his own to prevent that. That must have been the "hot-rodding" of the day. My father's grandmother (Mamaw) was known as a fast driver of the "horse and buggy" and the Model T Ford that succeeded the horse, so fast driving must be in our blood as well! Horse and Model T were gone before my father's birth. In the post-Depression and WWII days, they walked!
If you could eat regolith to feed your metallic liquid "blood" system based on redesigned DNA, would you? If you no longer had to breathe, what would your sense of time feel like?
More as it develops... but then again, who's using camera film these days? You are if you don't want electronic records.
2010-08-05
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)