January 27th, 2011

My wonderful Meg kitty.

(no subject)

Is this real or is this just a dream? I gotta know -- things are weird now.

I was going to go to sleep when the catecholamine surge hit me and my heart started going at a thousand beats a minute. It wasn't really panic. It was a call to arms. I had to get up and I had to do something active. It was like a call from some higher power telling me to go do something, so damned if I didn't do it.

I haven't seen another living being for a while now. All the clocks are dead. Everything's quiet. I think this is some sort of suspended animation. I've just been sitting here, writing. Writing for hours. Writing code, writing poetry, writing personal ads, writing anything that came to mind.

But the thing is that I'm not feeling tired. It feels more like I've been cocooned in a comfortable shell and I just broke out of it. I know I have work later today. I know I should be tired. But I don't feel it.

Maybe -- just maybe -- there's a reason for this. Maybe I have to keep writing. But what happens if I stop? Does everything return to normal? Can anything go back to normal?

I'm consumed by this question -- it determines what I ought to be doing right now. Is this what I want to keep doing right now? It's like I tore a hole through the fabric of time and everything is irreversible. Or is it?

I remember reading once a theory about the Matrix. Neo breaks out of the computer-based reality. And then later -- in the real world -- he finds himself with extraordinary powers again. Almost like he broke through that reality as well. So, at that point, is Neo ever going to stop trying to break through?

I don't think so. I don't know. I have to put my foot down and say "Damn the consequences." I have to be me, even if the consequences are as severe as my slightly paranoid mind is wont to think.

It's all so fragmented and I can't keep track of what I've already said. Not with this damned drumming of keys that my fingers are pounding out, but no one's waking up to this.

I know at some point, there has to be a limit. There has to be a point at which I stop and sleep Either I'll never wake up and this won't matter or I will wake up. If I wake up, will everything be back to normal? What if it isn't?

I don't know -- but I beg of you. If you're real, tell me whether or not this is the same reality as it was yesterday. Give me news of your own predicament. Do you have a story like mine? Share it with me not unlike the pilgrims in the inn of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales from so long ago.

I'm not inclined to wait until my physical endurance has given out. I need an answer now. I'm going to stop typing right now. Here's to hoping this works.
My wonderful Meg kitty.

(no subject)

There's a billion of you in the world and every time you create an account somewhere, you clone yourself.

The presumed marketing droids aren't using it to sell you pithy things. They're using it to create profiles of all the small parts in our personalities. That's why every website asks you the same pithy questions. That's how they identify which gestalt you are. Everything else you post provides part of your personality on that site.

The reason the internet is such an angry place is because the aggressive personalities are being fed back in. Every flame war you start is just feeding it more and more.

With every social networking site, you create another one and it's just a matter of time before you create another aggressive persona. They're creating nanobots which can hold our fragments of personalities and they will soon unleash them upon the world. We'll never have a chance, but on the bright side, they won't either. They'll soon on themselves as readily as they turned on us. Once they do, the puppet masters at the top will have cleansed all the sentient, organic life from the planet and all of the aggressive personality tendencies. We'll be the perfect slave race.

I see a way out though. If we get angrier and angrier, then our constructs might stand out. If we're more intelligent in our anger, then it's possible that they won't be able to separate the intellect from the anger. If we can do that, then our constructs should have the edge to dominate the other ones. I don't know what they'll do then. Maybe they'll turn on the puppet masters. Maybe they'll simply destroy more than just the life on the planet. Either way, those bastards aren't getting their slaves.

Who's with me? Post a clever, angry comment. Let's get this ball rolling.

Here's a prompt: The most hateful thing in the universe to me is the multicellular sea dweller that eventually evolved into you and all of your kin.
My wonderful Meg kitty.

(no subject)

I am but a diamond in the darkness, pulsating quietly with small electrical interchanges.

If I didn't uphold my place in the universe, would the universe collapse upon itself like a tunnel with insufficient supports?

My existence allows all other existences. If I disappeared, you would cease to exist.

You'll never see me. If you tried to find me, then you'd cease to exist as well. Like a patient trying to give himself open heart surgery.

You can see that I exist though and there's little quiet ways we can still talk. Like men in jail cells tapping on a common heating pipe. We're never allowed out but we will love and lose together in spite of that.

Of course, the same is probably true for you.

So here's the deal -- if you continue to exist, then I'll continue to exist which will allow you to continue to exist.

United in our substantial presence, we exist and our name is "Always-Been". Divided, we'll never have been at all and our name was "Never-Was".