2020 - day 103 -- a long and winding story, fun, I re read it twice.
Wednesday, April 22, 2020
8:04 AM
Pharoah-ism is a thing.
It's in a class of words holding forms for governing,
herds of humans,
who can be fit to the form, walk this way,
like an Egyptian, indebted for all your worth
Trillions and trillions, soon enough,
the ghost of Everett Dirkson laughs at
another billion attributed to Carl Sagan,
"we ain't even thinking real money any more."
To whom does the government of, for, and by the people,
owe all the nation can invent
Some day we will learn each bit of reality, but
we, as a specie, a valued mod on the base line
must access our global brain.
China -- that is -- the military mind of China,
has egged on
the military might of the USA, offering hope
for all-out war on peace, for no reason.
War has never had a reason for which any good
could come. Never.
And I will defend to the death your right to disagree,
but not your right to fight and destroy me.
If peace and war were to meet on a distant shore,
peace might move inland, but
now, we meet here on earth as mere ideas empowered
by the codemaker; peace and war
tete a tete, cabezo y cabezo I betcha, like dos cabezos
peering ahead on I -10... on the road again...
this is a changing station stage of life...
fold down time.
monster employers, users and maintainers of
common flesh and blood eyes, ears and hands,
people of the commonest class;
some times sitting in boxes,
some times standing in lines, sometimes
watching welder robots do your dad's old job.
--- capital
= money = time.
Gotta minute?
Invest it in imagining you think, as in,
think
who holds those, no, not those,
these truths, these factions of the whole
truth
faction, not fraction,
truth
and nothing but as sworn to on tv via mirror neurons
and solidi-fied, pur-chased, caught, netted,
in plebeian pledges of allegiance from first
grade, in the sorting of useful citizens,
some may serve at the highest levels, lifted via
lessons proven learned in standard tests,
-- number two pencil, fill each box, complete-ly,
so a machine can discern your answer, and punch
through the insulating paper, to signal
each bit of evidence
coming into piles of assorted usefull knacks,
mark this one. Feed him Wattie Piper, make him
think, I can
think, I can, think, think a little think...
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of
How did Einstein think?
AI ai ai, we know. Not in words. Einstein was taught to think
in whatification. What if I
--- nail the sun to the sky and feel the earth move me at
-- twenty-five, or so
-- thousands of miles
per fifteen three hundred and sixtieths of a day
-- and a night, one whole day...
but N D Tyson taught me that trick, not Einstein...
and not all things count as worthy,
relatively, of attention paid.
The worth of a thought's open door invitation to the curiosity we
enjoy
Semantics (from Ancient Greek: σημαντικός sēmantikós,
"significant")
is the linguistic and philosophical study of meaning
in language,
programming languages,
formal logics,
and semiotics.
It is concerned with the relationship between signifiers
—like
words, phrases, signs, and symbols
—and what they stand for in reality, their denotation.
On the subject of secrecy in general,
ah, no, we've no secrets, for here we have no truely
believable lies,
the truth will out, we say.
Life ain't fair, death had no hope, that's just
the way it is.
Wait and see. We had ein kleiner Gedanke, once
upon a mythical histerical time,
ah, think of any first blood in a world of secrets, such as we
formed from, even in famine, some seed was sown
each season,
some seed remained from first story peoples, preserved
in sacred places, safe,
until the dawning on you, that this is true, life always wins.
brightly lighted stage of history
no weakness... save where the blade meets the soft flesh
beneath a noble head bowing to think
fringe brushes my gnostic-itch, son of a gun,
son of a blade, edge, point
pierce the air, no pop, no apoptosist apostasy, see
we use words with no definitive meanings, right?
significance is cast aside, who cares
that's just semantics, I don' quibble bout {sign-if-i can-sense}
significance
or sign.
I wonder did we double down on a word righting there,
did we give meaning to a barely breathing
wind born lie, some interruptions signify engagement of
a clutch, a tool to grip the wild spinning trans-
*******, while
we slip into something more comfortable.
A higher, cruising 12 to 1 gear
My neighbor from two hills north, is coming to sit a while,
the guy has been called Cowboy, as a name, since all his siblings
knew him.
He is a walking archetype. And my friend. We share some burrs,
from wild meadows ridden on sole leather,
leaving a steaming auto-mobile by the side of the road,
aaah, the interruptions {more, with Oliver gone}
any line in context, is a step past last, a first of all the nexts
Nexts?
Options. Who determined this? My will being to discover this
fringe connection to the persistence on the fringe
of string theory strangling struggling
genera general, whole sorts of hu-mongolian signif-if-if ier yous.
Yous guys includes girls and nobody makes me say,
wombed AND un-wombed, man. So yous, youse, y'all you all;
you,
samesame, okeh. Plain and subliminal, wait and see. Losers win,
when they stop fighting fair.
Die and see what happens,
or imagine
you
know some body who did die and before he did he said,
Hide, and watch. AND now, you see,
caution once cast to the wind, calming all the rage required
to oppose the forces
¿? quare, sistere, wait, feel the urge to know, a click calque
see, new old idea, an old idea studied to the point of a word
formed to signify a set of things
cal-que-able, in curios kurio terms derived
from Phoencian merchants, who set up benches in all the ports.
Users of money, milkers of the exchange, worth-ship of silver,
balanced on the craftily formed me-assuring thing,
eight silver tid-bits makes one golden one, tid-bits fit
fingers, excluding thumbs, for thumbs play a role
mechanically in holding any thing, even
steady -- com-pre-hensive press press sure...
you got it, knowledge
ex-spands into wow... did it work?
Did we make a handle? Or a tool? No pressure, guess.
And Dave Goodman, rides into the west, with a QVC Lid-Lock
full of fabulous pasta cheese and celery, with peas.
A culinary experiment conducted by the grandmother
of all my grand children,
a most mazing teacher of balance's pre care-ious role
on an inclined plane sure to flatten the curve
--- are we in historical moments a generation long,
--- with second generations arrows
--- never quivered, these shafts I shot by faith at unseen things,
for which I have reasons. Were now the war,
we all agree war always cost far more than its worth in death,
robbing life from mankind,
unaware if there ever were a gospel truth. I say don't study war with carnal weapons.
Words carry us into real contextual contests for human sanity as a whole,
we can make peace,
we all can breathe easy, loose the tight jibbs {jaws}, gritted molars, loosen up...
Historically, it seems riddles became de riguer in ifity, but plainly,
only surviving stories survive.
Science knows no story which was eaten up and troubled m'bowels and made me know
boom boom boom, montezuma's revenge
in the spirit kah-blewy con ef ef ef fectual fervent
prayer/sayer saying/praying in timeless harmony
if we can agree... no good we imagine can fail,
let chirality meet diversity and error meet ciliation
conciliate celebration,
conciliate (v.)
"overcome distrust or hostility of by soothing and pacifying," 1540s, from Latin conciliatus, past participle of conciliare "to bring together, unite in feelings, make friendly," from concilium "a meeting, a gathering of people," from assimilated form of com "together, together with" (see com-) + PIE *kal-yo-, suffixed form of root *kele- (2) "to shout" (the notion is of "a calling together"). Related: Conciliated; conciliating; conciliary. The earlier verb was Middle English concile "to reconcile" (late 14c.).
take away my anti-grace, de
ify my chance appearance,
dance, mirror neuronically, sitting your chair-saddle,
y'put y'left foot in behind your right and
boom
y'hit a but, but this, but that, but some other thing,
you got only so much mortal attention,
so when one door closes, whatever you need, is not there,
here we see the old wise man who saved a city and no one knows his name,
he say, redundancy of instruction is the way of life.
fectual per effing e fect, non sensicle semantical ice, Gibsonian ice,
no sweat, we are wrapped in white linen,
we broke on through and waited for you.
Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also.
words we remember were words
meant
to stand tall understanding all things
differently, re
reading, the scene from Night Scenes in the Bible,
that
was a level of knowns
effectually un provable but by
common movie-complex unbelief release, let it be
-- lower missing efs, finding more attention {behind the scenes}
ef-fectual is conjugolly confusin my prudent nature.
or higher, north or sout, plus or minus h
who cares. We made it. This is today.
Meek inheritance day or the spirits judged by the degree day,
a holi
day
in which they trouble their own house, and recall the point that
pierced their own soul,
so to speak,
survived hating your own self for other's sakes,
sakes meaning goodness and graciousness which
constitute the happy bits in ever,
the treasures found,
where a man's heart is,
my diamond farm is yours now,
my gift to you... only words.
I inherited the wind, my job is to finish melting the ice.
God and sinner reconciled is a song,
does that make it less true?
For us, ever began before today,
so today is that day or it is not, we wait to see
or we wait and see, seeing if
this were the day, when all things go my way,
or come my way, in the course of human events,
I may be ready if readiness is some form of kurios
assurance, blessed, said *****, in a song,
I agree, blessed assurance,
Hey-sus is mine, find his words bring comfort
2020 paradigm shift is common parlance, Cowboy uses that
and logos regularly and he is
old, by mortal standards, for an archetype he's barely ligandary
to most receptive sub caudal imps.
they can feel
him biting the bullet,
gritting his teeth on the Gerber Bowie-wannabe blued steel
blade, re-imagined in reread instead, bullets bitten can go off,
I know a kid fired a deadly-for-a-mile bullet,
with a hammer and a rock, so, knifes are dangerous, too,
so
as a mime-ical biting down, per
haps this hero-in-forming bites
a wooden drumstick, beating now with one,
biting down on the other
boom
boomto doom boom
boom
boomto doom boom... and as the beat goes on,
fringes find loose ends and latch on...
Dirac was an early Cher fan, and she was something like dys
lexical survivor of the year,
if she can, anybody can
I think I can read faster than
hmmm, slippery *****,
speaking memes as old as I remember, then
by the time I wondered if she were real or
a con structure
I lose my footing
slip on something comfortable, this promises to be
that night, in the legends, just prior to a marked, edge of night,
ever after post. Will you still love me,
tomorrow.... deeedly violins lift away any hope
of redemption, oh, ma, it was 1963, you had to have me
to sing your blessing into,
to hide your gift in me, no one must know, oh god
bless his heart...
no part of this vision is clear, nor plain, why is this my beatrice
cockatrice
Olden day, Robinson's cowboy preacher son, sowed a saying in my
core, I sup-pose, put
his phrase formed
an ever more pleasant link to Wikenberg,
on this shelf, see, we can remember the target by re
reading... remembering never drink from the Hasayampa.
and you can tell the truth
by
aquiring point on conscience. Taking thought.
Ethos keeps insisting we are in some offensive mode.
Thus the call for concentration, we are tunable now,
on some oldies but goodies websites...
Kenpepiton.com, for one.
mytechpeople.com is possibly in the archives.
Calebland.com long left to a bland b-break lacking dash,
early urls. imaginable as answers to
either wishes or prayers,
or desires... unseen, unthinkable tools to augment a
satisfied mind, completely ******, no direction home...
here, my heart, my contentment container,
at the moment, indistinguishable from any mortal concept of heaven.
Robinson's father's saying: {remembered just in time}
some times you have to stomp your own snakes.
he may have said, you gotta stohmp yerown dam'snakes,
but never would he have said: one must stomp one's own snakes.
Long -- but a fun run, kept my mind from waxing sentimental on the loss of my dog.
