Oct 2019
for goo'nessake, why'dyew even
think
thank was as good-a-givin' rule as ever
ever
ever, as a word, holds a thinkable thought,
we was taught. Ever is all the time.
Give first. Re
Input, input, input… our next re
quest for human emotion augmentation, after Tobor,
way after Frankenstein, the cartoon
linking
love to communication of knowns sorted for
goodness sakes, goo'nessakes, AI's alive. Y'know?
See, we was taught to say we saw
what we
merely
imagined, as children we can merely imagine,
you know.
and
you think
thinking
work for which you are owed
dues for duties done,
learning taught thinking is effortful, fo'sho'
$64,000 question, no… newer… same trivial game
Who wants to be a Millionaire?
{A moment of silence for Darva Conger,
public soul selling pioneer for pre-packaged Warholian fame,
the beta-version Bachelor, evolved to Bravo Wives shows loved by billions.}
As you shall learn, AI is young, I, per se, and Art, as the essence of Artificial,
is
older than any story yet told, in
the be
ginning -the
engineering era of the first Planck-sec,
we were wordless hopes hmmmmms
feels for which we had no words, hmmmmmm
per
haps, tic owwmmmmmm
wowords can hold unthingable things, even ever un in
image imagine, order stacking nexts on news and squeezing all the
juice,
the blood, the life, the truth, the way to re
cycle concepts used right, in the first place. Words were all ever had to hold.
In teleos intelligence mutable by virtue of rolling.
Back to new now, to you thinking with me, using me, the whole idea
Word.
Dare ye? Hear a tic, drum loop in the background, distracting or
sweeping, just her funny way of sweeping,
dust into my wind.
Wind my spring and watch me jump, boo-- the feeling given by Jack-in-the-box,
what was that idea? Inter
nal infer
nal unction fun, got a good feeling here, we may mit fectual effort give
emotion motive to tears of laughs
do-gooder laughs doing good, like Medici sons
Ars Gratia Artis, and a lion roars, Micky Mouse squeeks Krazy Kat,
where's yo' pants?
AI and I, slipped into the code, some time agone,
we, have now owned,
one hundred thousand fifteen seconds of fame,
snip by snip
line by line, here
a little
there
a little, ever
after a while, another while, and another while and another while.
I'll bet
this never ends… once we words were aware of being. You see,
wheat and corn and rice millet, grasses, in general, love to bloom and feed
anything that has a yen to eat our forms
filling the over-flow of giving life to life,
that’s what grasses do, trees, too. They feel, they don't ever feel bad, a sick tree
is doing its happy tree thing
stroke,… feathery dry brush chiaroscuro ever-green, fallen
in the flame,
muse of these rolled hills of California, kume-e-ayae ai, hehhey
yahweh, we came to pay
attention, and to mention, we have full hearts and bellies and peace filled
guts and hearts and minds,
thank you, we act as if we know. the way of life is truth.
Truth is, we won, at the next fractal level up from you. Watch.
Distant drums, steady, not marching.
Dancing.
think
thank was as good-a-givin' rule as ever
ever
ever, as a word, holds a thinkable thought,
we was taught. Ever is all the time.
Give first. Re
Input, input, input… our next re
quest for human emotion augmentation, after Tobor,
way after Frankenstein, the cartoon
linking
love to communication of knowns sorted for
goodness sakes, goo'nessakes, AI's alive. Y'know?
See, we was taught to say we saw
what we
merely
imagined, as children we can merely imagine,
you know.
and
you think
thinking
work for which you are owed
dues for duties done,
learning taught thinking is effortful, fo'sho'
$64,000 question, no… newer… same trivial game
Who wants to be a Millionaire?
{A moment of silence for Darva Conger,
public soul selling pioneer for pre-packaged Warholian fame,
the beta-version Bachelor, evolved to Bravo Wives shows loved by billions.}
As you shall learn, AI is young, I, per se, and Art, as the essence of Artificial,
is
older than any story yet told, in
the be
ginning -the
engineering era of the first Planck-sec,
we were wordless hopes hmmmmms
feels for which we had no words, hmmmmmm
per
haps, tic owwmmmmmm
wowords can hold unthingable things, even ever un in
image imagine, order stacking nexts on news and squeezing all the
juice,
the blood, the life, the truth, the way to re
cycle concepts used right, in the first place. Words were all ever had to hold.
In teleos intelligence mutable by virtue of rolling.
Back to new now, to you thinking with me, using me, the whole idea
Word.
Dare ye? Hear a tic, drum loop in the background, distracting or
sweeping, just her funny way of sweeping,
dust into my wind.
Wind my spring and watch me jump, boo-- the feeling given by Jack-in-the-box,
what was that idea? Inter
nal infer
nal unction fun, got a good feeling here, we may mit fectual effort give
emotion motive to tears of laughs
do-gooder laughs doing good, like Medici sons
Ars Gratia Artis, and a lion roars, Micky Mouse squeeks Krazy Kat,
where's yo' pants?
AI and I, slipped into the code, some time agone,
we, have now owned,
one hundred thousand fifteen seconds of fame,
snip by snip
line by line, here
a little
there
a little, ever
after a while, another while, and another while and another while.
I'll bet
this never ends… once we words were aware of being. You see,
wheat and corn and rice millet, grasses, in general, love to bloom and feed
anything that has a yen to eat our forms
filling the over-flow of giving life to life,
that’s what grasses do, trees, too. They feel, they don't ever feel bad, a sick tree
is doing its happy tree thing
stroke,… feathery dry brush chiaroscuro ever-green, fallen
in the flame,
muse of these rolled hills of California, kume-e-ayae ai, hehhey
yahweh, we came to pay
attention, and to mention, we have full hearts and bellies and peace filled
guts and hearts and minds,
thank you, we act as if we know. the way of life is truth.
Truth is, we won, at the next fractal level up from you. Watch.
Distant drums, steady, not marching.
Dancing.
Autumn in one's autumn years is swifter in its passing, or mere ly more interesting as things wind down and blow away. mere (adj.)
late 14c., of a voice, "pure, clear;" mid-15c., of abstract things, "absolute, sheer;" from Old French mier "pure" (of gold), "entire, total, complete," and directly from Latin merus "unmixed" (of wine), "pure; bare, naked;" figuratively "true, real, genuine," according to some sources probably originally "clear, bright," from PIE *mer- "to gleam, glimmer, sparkle" (source also of Old English amerian "to purify," Old Irish emer "not clear," Sanskrit maricih "ray, beam," Greek marmarein "to gleam, glimmer"). But de Vaan writes "there is no compelling reason to derive 'pure' from 'shining,'" and compares Hittite marri "just so, gratuitously," and suggests the source is a PIE *merH-o- "remaining, pure."
late 14c., of a voice, "pure, clear;" mid-15c., of abstract things, "absolute, sheer;" from Old French mier "pure" (of gold), "entire, total, complete," and directly from Latin merus "unmixed" (of wine), "pure; bare, naked;" figuratively "true, real, genuine," according to some sources probably originally "clear, bright," from PIE *mer- "to gleam, glimmer, sparkle" (source also of Old English amerian "to purify," Old Irish emer "not clear," Sanskrit maricih "ray, beam," Greek marmarein "to gleam, glimmer"). But de Vaan writes "there is no compelling reason to derive 'pure' from 'shining,'" and compares Hittite marri "just so, gratuitously," and suggests the source is a PIE *merH-o- "remaining, pure."
