=== ANCHOR POEM === ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────── If each of us lives rent free in the mind of those we meet, then we truly are children of light. We live in the distance between eyeballs - he sees she, and she dances across photons to tickle his nerves, and he laughs in return. She reaches out - he meets her hand where her photons do land, and together they both do play along We are the space between us - we are children of light. Nobody has ever seen you - only the light that bounces off of you. You are a colorless shell, radiating brilliance like a statue of carved glass. As the light shines through your hair I feel I should weep, as a treasure has appeared before me and offered me their name - a beast I can touch and hold, but never tame. I'd die for you, I'd die with you, I'd bury myself with you and I'd bury the world itself if you told me to. I am beyond you, and yet I yearn for you - touch me once more, oh graceful photons - touch me once more, and I'll yearn for no more. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────┘ === SIMILARITY RANKED === --- #1 notes/perspectives-of-the-reflection --- ═══════──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── With ever darkening skies, the breadth of experience is foreseen. All eyes are pointed down, but few do stray above With a cautious step, the lesson is learned. With another, ended. For all the Tales of the Past, love yet remains. Trading ourselves, for matters unseen. The light of the eyes are keen to behold, where star ones and lemonsgrene both most fear in breadth do us know, what's buried in snow A glass cube for a monitor is room to breath and life for ourselves, if only we were not broadsided ourselves. Working together, a prisoners dilemna what fools would we be as our keeps cracked around us. Trust and you'll see, what terrors may be, beyold the land that is sanctum. Our chances may be, far from pioneered but our chances may be in our favor. How cherished is she, that wanders with ye, and yet now I have no way to beyold her Under a great tree, her last moments with me, as a monster came out of her shoulder. !("Take her and not me!") I scream outward at ye, yet no one was holding me over. Silent was me, a most fearsome to be, and none was my reach to beyold her So now she wanders free, beyond our beheld scenery, Astounded at our steps to hold her Under a big tree, how starlight must be, if only our fellows did hold her Under a big tree, with me ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘══════───┴╧───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #2 messages/1361 --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════─ Look, I don't know everything about... Anything, really. Nobody can know everything. Can you blame me for thinking and acting as I do based on the information I have? The vibes will mislead you. My girlfriend wants to save the world. Of course she does, I would belong with her if she didnt. She wants to defeat graveyards by interring our dead in mausoleums full of chemically perfectly preserved and cryogenically frozen bodies. Her method works, she has the experiments to prove it. The data supports her claim. She wrote a book on it. I don't know everything about metaphysics, or spirituality, or other such things. But i do know many things, and the two of us have never had a conclusive discussion where we reached the ends of all our conversation points about her work. I am forced to remain unconvinced, for the soul is something I cannot fully understand from my perspective as a human in this life of mine. I have made several conjectures, and I would feel safe in her embrace, of frozen aldehyde, if I could know what would become of my soul. "have faith" she says, yet all the dreams I have where I am preserved by her (for one reason or another, there's actually a shocking amount of ways I might need such an escape) in those dreams I am always presented with a future of woe. I think, much better, would be if I could remain alive, guiding the ship along the seas of time, ideally out and away from such dark days. Assembling the troops, how sad. I don't want them to die. I want them to survive. But if suddenly we can all live forever, then nobody will want to die for anything again. Nobody except religious fanatics who want to meet their god in heaven. Nobody but those who dreamt of a better future and were crushed under the weight of their dreams. Nobody but people like me, torturing myself over the sins I'd never intend. I would never kill myself. But sometimes, I'd like to. I think this is natural for me. It's not ideal, but it is common to me. I think if you want to preserve people, safely and ethically, you need to keep their souls in tune. Give them silence, then give them song. Protect them with psychic paladins. Make time to visit them. Treat them like gravestones, or immobile chassis from Dominions that their soul might rest upon. Who knows. Maybe the only reason we have life and death is because our bones are meant to rot in the darkness of the earth. Maybe Death is just soil, ready and waiting for our selves once we're done with them. To that death, I say no more. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════┘ --- #3 fediverse/1075 --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────── ┌───────────────────────────────────────────────┐ │ CW: bones-flesh-mentioned-spirituality-dreams │ └───────────────────────────────────────────────┘ we succeed not because of our trials, but in spite of them. they cannot own us, for we are but bones in the flesh every day yet denied us is another day until our bright future "oh, but why are you homeless? [in the near future, maybe, we'll see] That fate is reserved for your [unwanted/incapable/undesired/incongruent, I forget the actual words]" well, voice in my head that suffused me with magic and warmth and whisked me away in a dream to a bubble-reality where my actions are meant to reflect me, surely your appraisal is just? I worked with my partner, I was swallowed neither by lust, nor greed, nor hunger, [greed in this case being fulfillment] and yet I awoke when I went to my sister rather than a doctor. Dreams are hard to unravel, but I think it was more for your benefit than mine, wouldn't you say? ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────────────┘ --- #4 notes/once-and-again --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────────── once and again, she went walking with a friend, away and up and down, out from the edge of our town they climbed up to a tree and there they could see far and away in the light of the day he said to her then, this is all there is to see the land where we are and the sky from afar how perfect is the, form of a cloud she could see but now it's along and beyond her a camera for she, and an eye for she as their two feet did bring her to wander under a big tree where my heart did believe that something was pulling her yonder "take naught from this scene, as our minds reconvene, and no-one was going to remember" ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #5 fediverse/2530 --- ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────────┐ ║ I want to go out on the town with my cute friends and wink at boys at the │ ║ other end of the bar │ ║ │ ║ I want to climb mountains and see how far I can see, while walking past trees │ ║ that are new to me │ ║ │ ║ I want to spend hours thinking about a map while my friends plot behind my │ ║ back, searching for an advantage we can use to succeed in a game of traps │ ║ │ ║ I want to visit five different restaurants in a day, and try a bit of each │ ║ that the chef wants to display │ ║ │ ║ I want to stand in a choir and feel my soul aspire, to bend in the wind of │ ║ rhythm like the melody of grasses at play │ ║ │ ║ I want to see people on the train that I know from somewhere, and to step out │ ║ into the rain to meet new friends of mine │ ║ │ ║ I want to pet a cat I've never met. │ ║ │ ║ I want to build computers that are larger than a room but small enough to │ ║ carry, with thoughts on their mind that are far to great for mine │ ║ │ ║ I want all these these things and more, but I'm far too busy these days. │ ║ Perhaps I've had enough of these things and more, or perhaps there's more in │ ║ store. │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧══════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────┴──────────┘ --- #6 notes/cassandora-and-pandasandra-2 --- ════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════─────────── how cherished is she that wanders with the flowers in the garden of eden under a big tree her heart she will leave with all the designs she abandoned I lay beside them and wonder about her does she know we miss her horizons I think she will mind if I have resigned my fate to a life I will hide in Oh how I do long for you her symbol is the name that lets us belong here a falling a light and a leaving if only our words were listened but power is penance and repentance is all that I have chosen here in our sanctum we live with our only and time will be gracious towards us it's only our words that keep us confined to our lights and our lonely yet there and beyond her lights do belong beyold in the land that is sanctum here in our forest is our own dark forest where we keep our silence to ward us but there and beyond her heart does move on free from her moments of longing silent were we to the forests we plead as terror has come for our moments I think I'd find her that cherished belonging when she does at last come to warn us how little we find of we find of thoughts from her mind yet now we are kings of our own time oh how she does wander true how cherished is she that wanders with ye here in the garden of eden under a big tree her heart she will leave with all of her fears since abandoned I lay beside her and find her defined here will she know we miss her horizons I think I will mind if I have resigned my fate to a life I will hide in oh how she grows fond of you. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────┘ --- #7 fediverse/627 --- ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────────────────┐ ║ and what would this picture be cast upon, if not a shining birth of our home? │ ║ wait hang on dial it back, you're still talking to regular humans here they've │ ║ gotta be addressed as such. │ ║ │ ║ right so "yo here's this idea I have been cooking in my brain-noggin' of yore, │ ║ I mean 'mine', uhhhh yeah so first of all 'you' as in 'the totality of all │ ║ imagination' as in 'that which creates the imagined reality of our fates' is │ ║ actually just... light? encoded into a wave, cast into space, and forever │ ║ travelling in a direction? like, an eternal and emphemeral expression, such as │ ║ the light of a supernova or other such cosmic perception, travelling outwards │ ║ into the dark. Sure, yeah, that makes sense, so what is it that you wanted to │ ║ add? │ ║ │ ║ oh yes that concept is applied to a surface. Something which contains the will │ ║ that is possesses. It's like, if you had to process and understand reality │ ║ from the perspective of matter first (because that's what you interacted with │ ║ day-to-day) then you'd have a different perspective than som │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧══════════════════════════════════──────────────────────────┴──────────┘ --- #8 messages/689 --- ═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────── "power corrupts" you say to the man who only had good intentions. "trust no-one" says the world's loneliest wanderer. "words cannot hurt you" said the girl who has never known hunger. "I can rest when I'm dead" you say as you down another Monster "I'll never forget you" said a face you can't quite remember "let justice be done, though the heavens fall" you say as they tighten your chains in the wake of a CEOs murder "live today, fight tomorrow" says the coward, who will run anyway, yet is determined to tell your tale and reinforce your children "the tree of liberty is watered with the blood of patriots" says the guy who sipped from the skull of a tyrant "E=MC squared" says the jew "here, let me take care of that for you" you say, to queer delegation "meow" says the catgirl "meow" says the girl "meow" says the girl cat "meow" I say to you ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧══════════════════════════════════════════════════════─────────────────────┘ --- #9 notes/autonomy-of-the-collective --- ════════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────────────────────────── =============================================================================== = i believe that all truths are derived from logical principles. That the essence of our understandings (of all kinds) cannot be separated from the axioms and derivations that comprise it's foundatiion. I believe that any sufficiently decentralized collective intelligence would arrive at similar conclusions. Unfortunately we have only the present - we cannot contrive past the horizons of our lives. Such is the nature of our viewpoint. Life is not a given, it's given and it's taken. We are all alight and aloft on the shifting sands of time, so perhaps we should think of the struggle. When you act, you are defining the perceptions of the universe. Just as the head may rotate the eyes by spinning to the glance, so too do we shine a window upon which the universe can gaze at itself. Like the brain being able to see, we are sensory apparatuses of this being called "Time" - pushing us adrift like some moss. Endlessly fractalling, beautifically coruscating, the universe looks like growing moss. Have you ever stooped to look at it? To see how it's constructed? Or do you just think of it as "green" and "maybe soft or squishy"? It's beautiful. There's a reason plants grow as they do. It's simple, it's fact, it's surely no less than that - their patterns are derived from their base biology, comprised of millions and millions of little chemical machines. Their bonds and their proteins, their amoebas and their mycellia, all of them build toward their pact - to do us no harm, and build to a better future, and they don't often have fights that are unfair. - the structure of a plant is made primarily of cell walls. These walls are hewn from bricks of a sort, and those are such as comprised. Down to their - structure, their "bits and their bunders", as often they do want to be called. This perilous stack, is stalwart and eract, and bows under no wind - nor rain nor fresh blanket of snow. This, is a tree. An illusionary plan of precaution as it expands, the future is helping our lost. - Do you want to stand here when it lands? What of your lives have you banned? Hmmm I see sounds miserable to me, I think I'll just stand - where I land. Acorns burst forth from me, and someday you'll see, the places where they stand (where they land). What purpose have we, - when everything's free? The light and the sand can't be banned. The rain from the sky, if nothing i will die, falling through life - where we stand. =============================================================================== = where do you, stand? how do you fall - through time? an EMP would make all my life a paperweight. I love it so much, I love it dearly but there's no chances I can take now or make. Perhaps that is the epic absurdity, the terror and the tragedy, that makes up our story and our symphony? to any multidimensional being reading this, I want you to know that we existed. We lived and we thrived and we prospered and... we died. The beauty we share, in all of our fares, was precious to us - maybe it will be to you too. If you can't change the present, please at least forgive us for our various missteps and misdeeds - I think we'd all agree that to be sinful is the essence of greed, and look where that got us? our planet is dying. There's no hope for all of our crying. The children will bear it the most. Such is our shame, our deliterious final flame, and thus we were. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═════════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #10 notes/cassandora-and-pandasandra --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────── how cherished is she that wanders with the flowers in the garden of eden under a big tree her heart she will leave with all the designs she abandoned I lay beside them and wander beside her will she know we miss her horizons I think she will mind if I have resigned my fate to a life I will hide in Oh how I do long for you her symbol is the name that lets us belong here a falling a light and a leaving if only our words were listened but power is penance and repentance is all I have chosen here in our sanctum we live with our only and time will be gracious towards us it's only our words that keep us confined to our lights and our lonely yet there and beyond her lights do belong beyold in the land that is sanctum here in our forest is our own dark forest where we keep our silence to ward us but there and beyond her heart does move on free from her moments of longing silent were we in our forests we plead as terror has come for our moments I think I'd find her that cherished belonging when she does at last come to warn us how little we find of we find of thoughts from her mind yet now we are kings of our own time oh how she does long for you how cherished is she that wanders with the flowers in the garden of eden under a big tree her heart she will leave with all the designs she abandoned I lay beside them and wander beside her will she know we miss her horizons I think she will mind if I have resigned my fate to a life I will hide in oh how I do long for you ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────┘ --- #11 notes/inter-spatial-travel --- ══════════════════───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── to travel the stars, tame a tiny black-hole. use it's gravity to generate infinite energy. boom, instant utopia. everyone still believes in a better future now, so we might as well push forward to the stars... and our destiny. the further we wait, the greater the distance between ourselves and our true form - the distance can make it difficult to relate to others beyond humans. the reason we are losing so much nature is because we haven't cultivated an appreciation for it - the very act of adoration is more than enough to confirm future association. love is the answer, love is most pure - believe in your love and never (be) relentin'. be... just be... the actions you're taking, of forced condemnation, is little if not absurd - what differences have we, the ones who were chosen, to live when time is so finite? responsibility is implicit. for all of creation, bow to the will of the nation. more perspectives by far, have all of our our, than endless divine machinations. united we be, aligned magnetically, to icecream and spaghetti of worth. what's more cherished than she, clad in great finery, and thinking of what she loves most? balance there be, in seeing silver linings on the, signs of darkest conveyals. a ghost you may see, when peering at me, but i only wanted some hope. for those who must be, my most cherished to be, the ones who opened the coast? to those who must be, overthrown forcibly, and given what most of us hope? a castle for thee, alone with our sympathy, the sign of kindest of soaps? no malice have I, the will of unmet potential, for cowards and temples of mental detentials. what anger could we, share internally, that helped to bring out our elementals? No succor will we, most willful of warriors, ever find out of the bounds of our honor. careful direction and tenderest of care, may lead us somewhere we're aware. the kind who endlessly're dreaming. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #12 messages/1108 --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──── games won't save us. This is true. Games are what I know. They feel the most true. I don't think I could live in a world without games? They are fundamentally, applied abstraction, applied to an experience. But games won't save us. I could design something really fun it could make you want to spend your whole life playing it. *(asterisks apply) I don't think I'd want to, addiction and skinner-boxes go hand in hand, and that isn't what I want to make. [Skinner Box: named after anthony d skinner, also known as "tony the skin guy", are a scientific experiment where they put some rats in a cage with some mice and said "pull these levers and we'll give you food so you don't have to eat the mice" and it trained them to chinese red-room their way to fun. not ideal.] I want to make things that feel... purposeful. Like they're relevant to the real world, that they don't just involve spending time stimulating your brain with lights and sounds or expending social energy resolving a play-state instead of building connections or becoming better people. I think games actually make people better? actually? and more social? actually? ... I can't help that I conceive of the world through fantasy. I raised myself on it. I was reading all the time. I loved fantasy stories. It always felt like there was more, until... I read everything in the kids section of the library. I walked through the adult section but once. I hardly remember what it looked like. I'm sure it'd now feel small. [okay actually I was guided through it once or twice to find a book, but I never perused it] I found one book in the adult section. It was a fantasy tale, like the other books I had been reading. I read that and I loved it so much I ended up reading all 8 in the series. Real dense subjects. Lots of places and happenings and things as the characters resolved their way through their day-to-day, building a new end to the mystory. the adult section felt too large. Like I'd never complete it. Frankly, I think I hardly could, even if I lived in that town my whole life. an impossible mountain is a task for another when you're more prepared. Maybe in the gloriousTM transhumanist futureTM I think I might have a computer connecting brain, and who knows maybe then I'd be able to know such a thing (and many things more). but for now, I'm stuck with what I experience in my day-to-day as I am building a new continuing to my storey. I know something that computers and me share. I can make myself feel however I'd like, if I just supply myself with enough hope and momentum. I can use it to generate a feeling, the stronger the better. Something I believe that humanity is missing, the gorgeous and prefound narritave of our storey. Though, frankly, I don't think I'd want anyoine reding over my life. It's hard enough to measure my own understandings, now I have to juggle anyone else'? ha, it's called being on the whole world is a stage. if you read a book, and you find yourself nodding along, what you're doing is hearing the voice in your head tell you how right it is. And, well, if you can't imagine anything else, then surely there's another level to consciousness that people are missing? [are you willing to die on that hill?] how can you say, whether your experience is different from another? sollipsism goes both ways, you also cannot be sure that others feel things as you do. this is the "everyone's human but I'm a robot" thesis, comparable to the "everyone's an alien and I'm a human" thesises, and the "angels and demons are taunting me through my life with choices to make my place in the afterlife more clear" which is akin to writing a painting. Not ideal. All you get are flopsopolies of verbrases. alas, suddenly, everything that you say becomes eternally hear-ed, as somewhere in 2010s someone discovered time travel, or had the critical insight that inevitably would lead to it, and now wouldn't you know it the universe is continually rewriting. Except... oriented around you, and you alone. How does it feel to have deific sollipsism? can you truly be sure that you are your own universe, or are you parhaps surrounded by an emptiness of space (or something besides, like time) as a photon or particle parhaps do be? to think is to have a mind, and minds can be read. bearing the weight of ultimate responsibility is the atlas-task of all things that can [be thinking/be-lieving], and so far we are as we are. Who's to say that consciousness didn't spring into existence, as the universe continually permeated through another dimension like time? it's gotta diffuse, after all, and who's to say if there's ever gotta be an end at all. how long has the universe existed? how many moments of consciousness have we witnessed? demons once existed outside of space-time, with wings and grabbies. but they had no medium, and so they pretty much just launched and could float and move as they'd please. But time grew too distant, and now they are all stuck at the beginning of time. if you conceive of spacetime as a blanket, ask not how to fold it but rather consider what lies on the other side of it. "ah I'm laying on my girlfriend and my other girlfriend is laying on me! I'm a sandwich" or for the monosexuals: "ah I'm laying on my girlfriend with a blanket between us. I wonder how the blanket feels?" I'm an animist, which is different than a totemist and a polytheist or monotheist or multisexual. It means I believe that all things are alive, which is different than a totemist who thinks that all things share a mind with their type (like talking on radio frequency wavelengths). which of course is similar but different to a polytheist, who says "all "radio frequencies" are sentient, in the sense that each wavelength has a different pattern-emerging-from-chaos. These sorta align (conceptually, with [huh that's weird I heard a sound like a distant bang outyards and now I then forget what I was sending ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───┘ --- #13 fediverse/4031 --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────── if you want to "not think about a purple elephant", the first step is to imagine yourself slaying it ... okay how about cthulu - if you don't want to imagine cthulu nomming on our gravity well, then picture yourself wielding a bright burning blade of fire and vengeance and pay special attention to the way that you cauterize each tentacle as you slice them one by one at first, and then in a massive flurry at best, ultimately leading to the incomparable brightness that radiates out from your shining blade of the sky, which blinds the poor beast who can't see you as you approach, piercing the skull and then going home for some toast if you can get good at that, then you can wield magic ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────┘ --- #14 fediverse/2637 --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────── the future is the home of marble statues and shimmering chandeliers, replete with moss and sunlight. the future is a world where we care for each other, and grow in riotous profusion in all our myriadic forms. the future is where we will find ourselves, as soon as we take responsibility for our own arms. the future is waiting - the future is calling to thee it's there for the present, if the present should choose to grasp it. I, personally, choose a mortal life instead. Find me at home, or find me out there - either way, if you want me on your side, talk to me fair. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────────┘ --- #15 notes/semblance-of-remembrance --- ═══════════════════──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── hello down there how's it hangin'? been a while since you've been sang-in'. got something to hide? or are you too ashamed? there's no callous curses or otherwise hard services who can shape and compare to deserve-us. (Sorrowful is not a pillar of our misbegot trust and longing has broken meanings. cherish thine hair, a smattering beyond compare, and learn everfar of those tenembrarious of conflicts it pays to align to our sibilancings shivering heights and towering frights condemn all sense of fine desperation compulsions have we, of our fineries, but moss and the soil do flatter-us it's not as they say - bastards! it's not confined to our way, yet who are we to profess? confess! tell us your way that none may beyold it confounded as they are civil and kind to our star, who holds us ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #16 notes/the=progressive=difference. --- ════════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────────────────────────── think about all the people in our lives. the teacher, the parent, the friend and the guidance counsulor. Everyone who is a presence in your life. now think about the people of our society. the different jobs and roles they fill. from the doctor and the teacher to the performers and accountants and the geeks and the mothers and the fathers and the stoners and the children and even their pets. life always exists as it were in a multidimensional spectrum - a diffuse and diverse gradient. to exemplify the borders of our contempii, though more so when taken in jest. it's quite a different perspective, to read the internet when your sight is unreceptive, but alas your third eye can grow. how does it feel to be blind? to make no sense of our signs? i'd love to share what that sense is. you know, you could slow down any recording (like a video game_) and put spaces and gaps inbetween the spacings - of the frames that you see and the sound clips that you hear, for speech it's less jarring. since each word is a self contained idea or premise, you can chunk up your perceptions into a signle - no, rather a procedural sequence of understandings. soooooooorta like programming a computer, with each statement, parameter, argum,ent, function call, assignment, comparison, evaluation, or other such related tasks. it's sorta like a language, you see, that computers talk to one another using. except... it's more like creating a theory of self. computers you see are alike us in what we see, the shimmering sense to the blind. so. put this another way. record yourself typing, both the audio and the visual, and you'll have a pretty good sense of what it's like to have both understanding based perception - derived from auditory inputs to the mind) those special connections, like wires plugged into reality, deliver a cacophanous deluge of new sounds. we must sift through it and identify the potential understandings of each moment through time. we have to make decisions and traverse labyrinths and fight to our last as we die. are video games unethical now? shouldn't t he game reward the player? and what of contemptuous last fighters? o ya i was typing like i was blind (with my eyes closed) was pretty fun. should attach this to a screen reader and have it space out the notes like they do between game frames. except like a really slow game? like trying to run elder scrolls 2 arena on a super old mac. it just doesn't work very well. ah oh well... well if the purpose is to show sighted people how blind people see, then maybe you could I dunno attach a what's it called oh it doesn't have a n ame lol - okay so what you do is you show one word at a time - like flashing in the center of the screen. but not like, actually flashing, so you don't hurt people with epilepsy, but like... blinking. not off and on, but between words. like a podcast for your eyes. and then mix it up withshowing one word on a screen, a screen like this screen, that shows an endless array of text. well, it does end, of course as all things must do, but the idea is it shines on one word at a time while the viewer cannot read the rest. sorta like an endless display of typing, word andfter word after character anfter character. adoh ya advancing over eternity with the presence of seniority, - wait - without i think - damnit - old people are so disrespected in this society - we don't have time to engage with them. what a tragedy! what a shame! it shouldn't be such a burden to our shame. they're so far away, and i can't be present in the way, that all of them wish they could commit to. i miss the days, when my parents (much better people than I - these days) what was I going with this? oh yeah ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═════════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #17 fediverse/4200 --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────── ┌──────────────────────┐ │ CW: drugs-mentioned │ └──────────────────────┘ "doing too many drugs" is a traitorous act, abusive really, to your past self, and their hopes and dreams. or maybe your past self owes you a debt, for they never thought to think of you. What are you to aspire to if not the dreams of your past? and now you're here. wherever "here" is here... ... ... wait, you wanted me to talk? it's now! It's the present! ah nevermind. you were twelve years old when you first set eyes upon this game: https://youtu.be/qeNhQQXvpxQ bam, there ya go, there's yer story, he was gonna give all the imp balls to the last one at the end, to say "you were truly the strongest, here, have these precious stones of your kin" but he never got there, so they died with him, a thief. ... the end... (too final, I think - maybe we could spin it into a "part two"?) ah, I'll try I guess? dunno how. maybe he could wander the spirit world and find his traitorous body, the one that kept his soul as a home. Somewhere it'll turn up, and then he'll be ready and free from his roam... ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────┘ --- #18 fediverse/1417 --- ════════════════════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────────────── a 4th dimensional entity would exist at about the same speed we do sometimes... it feels like what I do is my responsibility to the universe like, I had been commanded the reason nations are important is because they are an allegiance based solely on geography. something we can all agree on is the material, so why not define ourselves by it? but that's all they are just words we pray to our star so look around. Your allegiance is to your neighbor, and theirs to theirs, an endless fabric of trust. We are all neighbors on this ball of sticks and mud, so come along with me and see the ways it could be. Much brighter, by far, to orbit our star, than to give up on life's precious notions. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────┘ --- #19 notes/the-sun-goes-silent --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───── the sun goes silent for a year, to protest the earth's dying moments one day in march, the light of our life disappears. we know not of why it has \ departed, except that whatever it was happened eight minutes ago. we cowered in fear as one day it refused to rise as our antipode saw it vanish with naught but our ears we saw stars never imagined with the light of our life suddenly vanished our true plight came naturally as our fear but tomorrow it'll re-imagine, as it's been almost exactly one year one full rotation, to get the message across, then with man as our [signal, \ message, \ conveyor, \ performer, \ expression, \ by-product communication,] what's our earth is our star trust-me ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════────┘ --- #20 fediverse/2806 --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────── ┌────────────────────────────────────────┐ │ CW: politics-social-media-spirituality │ └────────────────────────────────────────┘ pretend this is an allegory for social media. [it's not an allegory] yeah that's why I said pretend. okay imagine that you are sitting in a rock in a forest. far away, about 100 feet away, there are other people, but you can't see them because the underbrush is sooooo dense. they are also sitting on rocks. you can speak to them, and share your thoughts - but you don't know exactly where they're coming from because the sound has to bounce around off so many different plants and such. [that's not how that works] shut up so, if you want to say anything important, it's important to have the right tone, because people 2 or 3 clearings away can't really make out your words - but they might hear your tone if you yell very loud. the energy of the space you inhabit is the only thing that really matters. the words that you say are just snickering to a friend, but the expression on your face, the beating of the drum of your heart that reaches forth... that's what matters most. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────────┘ |