White dwarfs in black holes.
I want so badly to copyright this.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
A thought
"It's like a party in your mouth" sounds like it belongs in a porno, not a miracle whip commercial.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Interpretation
Freud said sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Sometimes that cigar still reminds one of a cock. A brown one, maybe. If you want to, or are preped to, see the cock, the cigar is the cock. If you're thinking of branch, you'll be reminded through the rough brown. If you're hungry, the smoke may remind you of BBQs.
A cigar is a cigar. Which leads one to think of fires. Which leads one to think of forest fires. Which leads one to think of camping out on a quiet, cool night. We think about things without trying to. Our lives are one big stream of consciousness, one thought leading to another.
Interpretation is a beast that way. We cannot help but think what we think. Think of the Christian bible, and the religious groups stemmed from it. We have this text. Which everything thinks is unalterable. Basic in human society. But we have this absurd variety of groups stemmed from the belief in the God it conveys. All these readers and listeners listened to the same basic message and--shaped by their culture, history, the language they read it in--constructed these different religious societies. Catholics, Anglicans, Prebyterians, Unitarians, Latter day Saints, Jehovah's Witnesses, Baptists, blah blah. Still true one you look at Judasim. True when you look at Islam, and they kept the Qur'an in the original language.
Show 100 people the same text. You will have 100 interpretations, unique in its own subtle way.
Some might say "Well, these are just different ways to the truth." Well, they'd burn you at the stake, heretic. Every interpretation has it's power. Every affects how we stand, look, breath, talk, when where how why.
Interpretation is a beast. It has teeth that will melt you a hundred different ways. A way for your elbows. A way for your toes. Fight it and it will demolish you. Avoid it, and it will swallow you unawares. Your objectivity will be made to wear feathers and hop on a one leg. Accept the Truth. You have eyes and cannot see. You have a nose and cannot smell. Your mouth mouths the words. The word land flat.
Interpretation is to be accepted. Place a warm bowl of milk on your back pourch. Pet It softly, it loves when you scratch behind the ears.
A cigar is a cigar. Which leads one to think of fires. Which leads one to think of forest fires. Which leads one to think of camping out on a quiet, cool night. We think about things without trying to. Our lives are one big stream of consciousness, one thought leading to another.
Interpretation is a beast that way. We cannot help but think what we think. Think of the Christian bible, and the religious groups stemmed from it. We have this text. Which everything thinks is unalterable. Basic in human society. But we have this absurd variety of groups stemmed from the belief in the God it conveys. All these readers and listeners listened to the same basic message and--shaped by their culture, history, the language they read it in--constructed these different religious societies. Catholics, Anglicans, Prebyterians, Unitarians, Latter day Saints, Jehovah's Witnesses, Baptists, blah blah. Still true one you look at Judasim. True when you look at Islam, and they kept the Qur'an in the original language.
Show 100 people the same text. You will have 100 interpretations, unique in its own subtle way.
Some might say "Well, these are just different ways to the truth." Well, they'd burn you at the stake, heretic. Every interpretation has it's power. Every affects how we stand, look, breath, talk, when where how why.
Interpretation is a beast. It has teeth that will melt you a hundred different ways. A way for your elbows. A way for your toes. Fight it and it will demolish you. Avoid it, and it will swallow you unawares. Your objectivity will be made to wear feathers and hop on a one leg. Accept the Truth. You have eyes and cannot see. You have a nose and cannot smell. Your mouth mouths the words. The word land flat.
Interpretation is to be accepted. Place a warm bowl of milk on your back pourch. Pet It softly, it loves when you scratch behind the ears.
Poor spelling
Perhaps there exists a time, a minute, of straightfoward thought, eating away at the distractions, stiff arming distractions, relaxing contractions, speeding up the slow down, speeding up the pause, slowing down the acceleration, though technically any change in speed is acceleration. evil gold ladies can look down on your from even a foot lower, looking down on you from a foot down on the ground. Straws bring up liquid. The battery rests at 56 percent power, perpetually. Never let any one thing you're stupid, or worse, convince you of your stupidity. It's a shame, the stupidity people tend to have the highest levels of self esteem. But really, self esteem maintains no correleation with intelligence. If you have both you have both. If you have one, you have one. If you have neither, maybe you should give up on life.
Self esteem, everybody!
Self esteem, everybody!
Superheroes
1) Looking forward to Thor and Captain America. Sort of. None of the clips or trailers have blown me away. But the lead parts are well cast. The key to happiness is low expectations.
2) Coffee. Some milk. Two sugars or some honey.
3) Fleece blankets are smooth. They are butter. They are almost shaven legs. (Buy one. Comforters are overrated).
4) One friend of mine conceptualizes race like a white man from 1933.
5) All of Serena William's dresses are distracting.
6) Prof. James Shapiro at Columbia University. This man is insane. Personality-wise, he's a toned-down version of Harlan Ellison. Take his class if you have the chance.
7) I write too many adverbs, adjectives, and "to be" verbs. And cliches are worse.
8) Proscrastination is fine if you remain productive.
9) Work work work work work work work work work work makes Jack a dull boy.
10) To be or not to be. Servering the banana from the orange. I iron the fleece. I sew the shirt. I read the play. I skim the surface. She picks the pickle. He shaves the leg. "Once more into the breech." Stop the play. End the film. Cut the line. Replace the contact lens. Tear the electric cord. Pick up the laundry. Pick the nose. Write the poem. Write the play. Revise the essay. Tweak the language. Name the baby. Hide the computer. Hide the password. Type the letter. Create the world. Shape the world. Mold the clay. Clean the sheets. The devil prefers checkers over chess. Simple rules win the day. The clothes need ironing. Freshening up. Spray tea tree oil on the cut.
2) Coffee. Some milk. Two sugars or some honey.
3) Fleece blankets are smooth. They are butter. They are almost shaven legs. (Buy one. Comforters are overrated).
4) One friend of mine conceptualizes race like a white man from 1933.
5) All of Serena William's dresses are distracting.
6) Prof. James Shapiro at Columbia University. This man is insane. Personality-wise, he's a toned-down version of Harlan Ellison. Take his class if you have the chance.
7) I write too many adverbs, adjectives, and "to be" verbs. And cliches are worse.
8) Proscrastination is fine if you remain productive.
9) Work work work work work work work work work work makes Jack a dull boy.
10) To be or not to be. Servering the banana from the orange. I iron the fleece. I sew the shirt. I read the play. I skim the surface. She picks the pickle. He shaves the leg. "Once more into the breech." Stop the play. End the film. Cut the line. Replace the contact lens. Tear the electric cord. Pick up the laundry. Pick the nose. Write the poem. Write the play. Revise the essay. Tweak the language. Name the baby. Hide the computer. Hide the password. Type the letter. Create the world. Shape the world. Mold the clay. Clean the sheets. The devil prefers checkers over chess. Simple rules win the day. The clothes need ironing. Freshening up. Spray tea tree oil on the cut.
British actors doing bad 1930s New York accents
1) I'm watching the Doctor Who episode, "Daleks in Manhattan." They're overdoing it with the New York accents. It's like they watched every 1930s movie serial and let er rip. Though, this must be what it's like for them to watch American actors do bad British accents.
2) A friend suggested that the divorce rate is so high today because we care less about marriage. There is more to it than that. There's a birth control--fewer accidental pregancies, and thus less pressure to marry. Then we don't have arranged marriages or anything, relatives getting into involved the union.
3) The Dalek character designs haven't aged well. They look like R2-D2's evil cousins.
4) Five Guys Burgers is overrated. Soggy.
5) "It's not human, I know that."
6) Embarassing typo. I once wrote "cock" instead of "cork."
7) The tops of Starbucks cups leak.
8) It's better to expose a receeding hairline than comb over it. Combovers are pretty sad.
9) The Bible is a surprisingly good read. The story parts, anyway. The lists, the diagrams, geneologies, are tedious. The funniest part to imagine was when the ark of the convenant was stolen. I imagined it with bugged out eyes while it was carried out.
2) A friend suggested that the divorce rate is so high today because we care less about marriage. There is more to it than that. There's a birth control--fewer accidental pregancies, and thus less pressure to marry. Then we don't have arranged marriages or anything, relatives getting into involved the union.
3) The Dalek character designs haven't aged well. They look like R2-D2's evil cousins.
4) Five Guys Burgers is overrated. Soggy.
5) "It's not human, I know that."
6) Embarassing typo. I once wrote "cock" instead of "cork."
7) The tops of Starbucks cups leak.
8) It's better to expose a receeding hairline than comb over it. Combovers are pretty sad.
9) The Bible is a surprisingly good read. The story parts, anyway. The lists, the diagrams, geneologies, are tedious. The funniest part to imagine was when the ark of the convenant was stolen. I imagined it with bugged out eyes while it was carried out.
Gastrophobia
1) This is a lovely little webcomic I just found. http://www.gastrophobia.com/index.php
It's about an exiled amazon and her son getting involved in hijinks. Wickedly funny.
2) I want to play SMT: Nocturne, although it is $27 and 80 hours wasted.
3) Writing in a blog that no one will read.
4) Boom.
5) Loom.
6) Choom.
7) When I was a little girl...
8) When I am writing in my notes, and need to write "Japanese," I did not abbreviate out of fear of looking racist.
9) If I got a dog, it would be a pitbull or a beagle.
It's about an exiled amazon and her son getting involved in hijinks. Wickedly funny.
2) I want to play SMT: Nocturne, although it is $27 and 80 hours wasted.
3) Writing in a blog that no one will read.
4) Boom.
5) Loom.
6) Choom.
7) When I was a little girl...
8) When I am writing in my notes, and need to write "Japanese," I did not abbreviate out of fear of looking racist.
9) If I got a dog, it would be a pitbull or a beagle.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Fun Things
1) http://cucumber.gigidigi.com/
Cucumber Quest. This is an in-progress webcomic by a great artist, Gigi Digi. She's done other stuff by under other names. Including the hilarious Persona 4 parody(http://hiimdaisy.livejournal.com/) which, unfortunately, is on an indefinite hiatus and most fun to read once you've played the game. She's a great artist and deserves to get paid for this.
2) I'm watching the shit out of the David Tennant Doctor Who episodes. Good stuff. I've got a man crush. Doctor hangs out with a lot of fine women.
Cucumber Quest. This is an in-progress webcomic by a great artist, Gigi Digi. She's done other stuff by under other names. Including the hilarious Persona 4 parody(http://hiimdaisy.livejournal.com/) which, unfortunately, is on an indefinite hiatus and most fun to read once you've played the game. She's a great artist and deserves to get paid for this.
2) I'm watching the shit out of the David Tennant Doctor Who episodes. Good stuff. I've got a man crush. Doctor hangs out with a lot of fine women.
Random
1) Bin Laden dead. Weird they'd bury the body at sea. Commence the conspiracy theories!
2) Ours is not a culture of death. Ours is a culture of killing. There's a difference in focus. Big difference. Let's compare. The Greeks and others drew out the afterlife: they had their personages, their geographies. Gilgamesh, one fo the earliest epic heroes, preoccupied himself with attaining immortality. New Testament made a big deal about the Kingdom of Heaven. Dante went insane with his vision of death. Hamlet thought of death at least half the time. Here we focus on the experience of dying. How does one prepare oneself for the great beyond? How can we ensure we're leaving something meaningful behind? When they spoke of death, they spoke about what would be a personal experience.
In America, death is a joke until you're dying. Speak more than a sentence on The End, you'll probably make no friends. You'll be secretly ridiculed as a big emo baby. (What does that say about me?) The quality of life too good. The infant mortality rate is too low. Our people are too fat. (Heart disease acts too slow to be fearful.) So, no, that subject is not the subject. When they danced at Ground Zero, they celebrated the kill, the retribution. They danced in honor of the hole in the head. It was the act, the power that one can take away any thing from an enemy. What does his soul matter? Perhaps we could imagine him in his bubbling afterlife, but the focus is on the body. One man wrote on some comment board, "We should hang his body from the statue of liberty." Or something to that effect. We take it out on what we can see. Or what we can deform. We cannot deform a soul. We can deform the flesh. And there is something gratifying about that.
Well, this post disturbed me.
(But, seriously, fuck Bin Laden.)
2) Ours is not a culture of death. Ours is a culture of killing. There's a difference in focus. Big difference. Let's compare. The Greeks and others drew out the afterlife: they had their personages, their geographies. Gilgamesh, one fo the earliest epic heroes, preoccupied himself with attaining immortality. New Testament made a big deal about the Kingdom of Heaven. Dante went insane with his vision of death. Hamlet thought of death at least half the time. Here we focus on the experience of dying. How does one prepare oneself for the great beyond? How can we ensure we're leaving something meaningful behind? When they spoke of death, they spoke about what would be a personal experience.
In America, death is a joke until you're dying. Speak more than a sentence on The End, you'll probably make no friends. You'll be secretly ridiculed as a big emo baby. (What does that say about me?) The quality of life too good. The infant mortality rate is too low. Our people are too fat. (Heart disease acts too slow to be fearful.) So, no, that subject is not the subject. When they danced at Ground Zero, they celebrated the kill, the retribution. They danced in honor of the hole in the head. It was the act, the power that one can take away any thing from an enemy. What does his soul matter? Perhaps we could imagine him in his bubbling afterlife, but the focus is on the body. One man wrote on some comment board, "We should hang his body from the statue of liberty." Or something to that effect. We take it out on what we can see. Or what we can deform. We cannot deform a soul. We can deform the flesh. And there is something gratifying about that.
Well, this post disturbed me.
(But, seriously, fuck Bin Laden.)
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