Tag Archives: film

Redbud Pods

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$900M of US Treasuries for one Chinese dissident?  Hmm…

While I upload, onto the Internet cloud, photos of the USS Maryland and USS Worcester (CL144), found in my grandfather’s bosun’s locker (last looked at in 1959), I ponder the universe.

Slowly getting back to my happy states of energy.

Watching seedpods ripen on redbud limbs.

Putting aside the “variety is the spice of life” headline reading that has dominated my curiosity lately and back to reading books that captured a moment in time during the life of a writer’s/editor’s career.

To thine own serf be through, and all that.

Speaking of all that, I heard a dictator/executive producer of a movie franchise insisted the cute female star be removed from her role in the latest “as delectable and memorable as cotton candy” summer blockbuster.

Reminds me of the following anecdote from Bennett Cerf:

Arthur Meyer, author of the amusing Hollywood memoir, Merely Colossal, nominated Adolph Zukor, long-time headman at Paramount Pictures, as the politest gent in the world of the cinema.  “I have a telegram to prove it,” continues Mayer.  “It reads, ‘You’re fired. Best regards.'”

[snare drum rim shot please!  or take my wife, for instance]

Did you hear the one about the guy who hiked to Walden’s Pond and realised that he’d feel more transcendental if his family had run a profitable pencil business for a while, too?

Or the feminists who say a guy is a sex addict but a woman is a nymphomaniac and that’s okay by them?

Whatever floats your boat.

Speaking of which, here are the USS Worcester photos (taken in the 1950s, my father believes).

And last but not listing (not too much, anyway) are the USS Maryland photos (taken in the 1930s, my father believes, als0).

In a few days, I go under general anesthesia and will possibly forget who I was, all in the name of medical progress, I’m told.

More on that later.

Time to meditate on sunlight filtering through a deciduous forest.  All ashore who’s goin’ ashore!

Arrrrrgh

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Did I watch a baseball game, softball game, basketball game, hockey game, golf game, tennis game, poker game, car race qualification or horse race today?

No, I stepped into a large room with a curved wall to watch a film about people pretending to live out the realities behind the characters of an amusement park ride.

Were these professional actors good at what they did?

I would venture they are better than average.

The movie itself was geared toward the 3D IMAX experience, I felt, giving a depth that a regular 2D experience would make flat.

A franchise from a franchise machine.

Otherwise, the story would make no sense.

Will people start building IMAX-type home theatres so they can enjoy these experiences with projectors built for the purpose?

“Honey, I’m converting the garage to a planetarium/IMAX theatre.  I hope you don’t mind parking your car in the street.”

“Sure, dear, because I’ve contracted HGTV to record my converting your putting greens in the backyard to a re-creation of the gardens at Versaille.”

Let’s see…thanks to Lindsey, Robert, and Lindsay Blaire at RAVE; Stephanie at Beauregard’s; the 18-year old for graduating high school and getting a basketball scholarship at Belmont, working toward a degree in exercise science/physical therapy; Juliet and the owner of Carson’s Grille; so many more I’ve forgotten while managing an imminent family decision.

Speaking of which, time for some more jokes from the Grand Lady of Grinder’s Switch, or some she might’ve overheard:

There were two old men sitting on the front porch of their nursing home, rocking in their chairs and watching people pass by.  Then one of the men said, “You know, I think I’ve got to get up.  My hind end is falling asleep!”  The other said, “I believe you.  I think I just heard it snoring!”

* * *

A man and his wife were on vacation in the husband’s hometown.  They hadn’t been back there for forty years.  They enjoyed the trip so much that they went back the next year.  They went to the same parks, cafes, and motel where they visited the year before.  The wife even went back to the same beauty shop.  While the wife was there, the owner asked the lady if she was from their town.  Then the owner added, “I don’t know you, but you look familiar.  Have you ever been here before?”

The woman replied, “Yes I have, but it’s been a year ago this month since you’ve done my hair.”  Another lady in the shop, in a sweet, small, elderly voice, piped up and said, “Well I’ll be, Honey!  It sure did keep good!”

* * *

A self-educated old farmer who had never owned a fancy car was looking at a brand new Cadillac.  The salesman said, “This particular model will cost you $75,000.”  So the farmer reached into his pocket and counted out $75,000.  When the salesman saw this he said, “Well, if you’re paying cash, I can give you a discount.”  Not knowing what the salesman meant, the farmer asked for a minute and went next door to the beauty shop.  Inside, her asked the beautiful girl who worked there, “Do you know what the word discount means?”  She explained, “It means to take something off.”  So he asked her, “Well, how much would you take off if I gave you $75,000?”  She answered, “Would you mind if I kept my earrings on?”

* * *

An older lady went on a routine visit to the new young doctor in town.  After he checked her over he embarrassingly asked, “Because of your age I have to know if you have S.E.X.”  She said, “Wait just a minute and I’ll see.”  So she opened the door to the waiting room and yelled out to her husband, “Honey, the doctor wants to know if we have S.E.X.”  He replied, “No!  All we have is Blue Cross and Blue Shield.”

* * *

The Waltons or the Jeffersons, Sanford and Son or Chico and the Man, Are You Being Served or Fawlty Towers, You Can’t Do That on Television or The Brady Bunch, jokes like these vibrated over the airwaves to people’s homes when I was a kid.

In the current multichannel world of the Family Guy and Adult Swim, such jokes are tame, viewable on TV Land or your favourite Internet rebroadcast service.

But I don’t mind.

Just as I have friends from my boyhood school days who have same-sex relationships or seeking transgender changes, I have male friends who open doors for my women friends, say “Thank you” and “Yes, ma’am,” and read their religious texts with daily devotion.

Some are a mix of the above.

Such is the normal flow of civilisational growth.

And why I live with seven billion people, hoping I never ignore one group for the personal benefit of another.

How are we going to move with that flow and respect the rights of those who wish to preserve the beliefs and practices of decades or hundreds of years ago?

Just because you don’t condone someone’s behaviour in your subculture doesn’t mean you have to block that person from finding a place to fit in a subculture somewhere else.

Although the United States is more of a government-dependent population than we may like to think, where government employees and government contractors enjoy greater benefits than the average U.S. citizens who pay the taxes to support the government [I ought to know], wanting me to joke we’re similar to a socialist/communist country, “Animal Farm” style, like the USSR or Cuba of old, thus swapping places with former enemies…

Never mind, I promised myself not to talk about government or, by implication, politics.

Political entities are just another business, where executives and the legal staff are selected by eligible customers.  You voting customers out there can decide what you want to do about your local political entity, or not – the repercussions are yours to enjoy/suffer – just like any shareholder.

Anyway, time to quiet down for the evening, prepare questions before a visit to yet another assisted living facility and finalise the spreadsheet from which my wife will use her wise financial judgement to select a place for her 93-year young mother to reside a while, if not for the rest of her life.

And then get back to composing my usual satirical riffs, from whence I derive my greatest joy, all while ruling the universe through a network of associates and computer programmers you see everyday but never notice!

Ahahahahaha…a pirate’s life for me, indeed!

L’alarm memorable

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How am I lucky?

Gnats and crane flies draw imaginary 3D scribbled Spirograph patterns in the space I call my front yard outside the windowed, sunny view this morning.

How far “up” does my yard extend?

60 deg F on this 2nd day of April in the year I’m told is 2011.

I am floating on air today for the simple, joyous fact I danced with a beautiful lithe butterfly last night (I also danced with an angel (my wife, of course)).

The graceful movements of a ballet dancer who flew across the dance floor with the slightest touch of my hands.

And I don’t know her name.

Her name, I’m sure, means “brings him luck” in some language.

A nod to Erin at P.F. Chang’s; the chiropractor who works in Madison, Alabama (Dr. Alice?); Joe and his dance partner, Wendy; Curly and his swing partner; Kareem at the Apple store; and the kind folks at Ulta who helped my wife.

Currently, I’m working up a storyline that incorporates the following facts: a woman working 10 years in the restaurant business, who’s paying off college debt, moved from New Mexico to north Alabama, going from zero to 100 percent humidity, married 1 year and 1 month, first danced to “I want to grow old with you” from “The Wedding Singer” at her wedding reception, and can pour a glass of beer behind her back with her eyes closed while balancing a server tray, all without spilling a drop and with very little foam at the top of the glass.

And then there is the woman who wants her seat next to the dance floor reserved at all costs, getting me to smack around anyone who takes her seat while she’s dancing.

Finding joy in the simple things, like watching ants walk across the kitchen floor or crane flies bouncing against window screens, is a reminder how lucky I am.

I may be repeating my parents’ weekly ritual of going to the local dance hall on a Saturday night (mainly square dancing in their time), and I know how I find repetition boring, but in this case I am thoroughly enjoying myself because of the easy-going people who are sharing the social situation with me, wanting nothing but to have a good, clean, fun time together.

In awe, I watch couples skate around the room.

The room becomes a kaleidoscope made of twirling bodies – I see acrobats on the trapeze, throwing partner to partner to partner and back, or acrobatic flyers turning barrel rolls and figure 8s in the sky, colourful smoke trailing behind them to the soulful music…

Ceiling tiles lit up by Arduino-controlled LED spotlights…

Walls pulsing with fiber optic quilts like living tie-dyed shirts spinning around to the rhythmic beat…

Swing, cha cha, tango, merengue, simple hustle, rumba, salsa, waltz, foxtrot and 1950s-era costumes – I had forgotten how much fun these formal dance styles can be when mixed with freestyle dancing while meeting new friends who glide across the floor like they’re made of air.

It’s like having a reunion with myself from 25 to 30 years ago, thrashing on the dance floor or diving into the mosh pit, except now I’m older and my knees can’t take a jump off a 10-ft stage into the hypnotised masses.

Lucky to be here and happily participating in reconnecting thought patterns with physical dance patterns.

Yes, I’m easily distracted.  Today, I don’t mind – the politics of dancing can wait another day.

Time to get the wallflowers out on the dance floor to have a good time, Flying Monkey theatre at Lowe Mill, Kinesthetic Cue at Underground Madison, or wherever.

Jeffrey Immelt can kiss my American…

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…assistant, who, like Suzy Wetlaufer, wants to write a book with Immelt about the recent successful business practices of GE.

Speaking of connecting the dots, here are three for you today:

  1. Why you should see any Woody Allen movie,
  2. Was a Versace model mentioned in “Whatever Works“?, and
  3. Was a Versace model killed in a hit-and-run?

What is compassionate capitalism and does it have anything to do with the Concours d’LeMons (and yes, I am an owner of a 1962 Dodge Lancer, thank you very much for asking)?

A nod to Scott at Red Robin (with a hello to the woman wearing sunglasses at night) and Chelsea at Kinesthetic Cue.  Can’t wait to see Joe do a little Greek dancing for us, a sure cure for the blues of any sort.  Gotta remember the name of the Goodyear tire guy in Madison who’s learning more advanced dancing techniques with his wife.

Reminder to self: need to check out the MediaShift Idea Lab’s story on Shelbyville.

By the way, the diplomatic corps is looking for any ol’ obscure God-fearing Koran burner to send on a goodwill tour of Afghanistan.  The UN will provide security.

My prayers to those who stir up anger in crowds – may you find peace in your thoughts that you share with others instead of fomenting violence and killing.

Does equal opportunity have a cost/benefit analysis component, and if so, should the ADA and EEOC rules reflect this fact?

This is your April Fool’s Day entry for the day – take it for what it’s worth and all I’ve got time to write about.  I’ve an alien ship waiting to pick me up and take me on a tour of munitions factories around the world it plans to beam up and take to Planet X-Post Fractal before my species overcrowds itself and uses weaponry to thin the herd, randomly destroying important parts of the superbrain.

Using forums for humour-based blogs

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Where do comedians get their source material?

Do you work the comedy club circuit and walk the local city’s streets during the day, read the city’s newspaper and pick up rumours from local noon talk shows?

I, for one, use online forums and user comments to poke fun at the anonymous angry poster.

You know the ones I’m talking about, who always have problems with problems but never offer solutions or insightful questions about current events, often repeating phrases they heard from popular radio/TV show hosts.

I wonder what these people look like.

Do they have regular lives?

Were they ever in management or owned their own [successful] companies?

Do they know how to lighten up, lay off, cool down or get a life?

Me, I like to have fun, get a laugh, blow off steam, be great at pretending to be great.

Do something off-the-wall like walk into a jewellery story, buy a $500 gold necklace, hand it to someone who returns to the store and finds out how much the store will buy back the necklace at current gold prices. $45?  Wow!  Does that mean jewellery store merchandise is overpriced or what?

A barrel full of fermented punchlines.

It’s all about the level of service.

A word to the world of complainers, nitpickers and naysayers.  Yes, some of us are listening.  And yes, we’re going to make fun of you because you don’t have one original innovative suggestion in your thoughts to make the world better.

Is the world better without you?

Oh, I won’t go that far.  You probably have a loving lizard or pet turtle that can’t live without you.

That’s all for now.

Time to figure out what to do for dinner.

They tell me the person known as Elizabeth Taylor died today.  I never met her so I assume that means I won’t see any more new cinematic presentations with her embodiment in them.  The list of films in which she starred is more than ample to supply my interest in remembering her acting skills.  “Taming of the Shrew” or “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” but probably not “Cleopatra,” though it seems like it was entertaining enough when I saw it years ago.

Reminds me to watch “Where Eagles Dare” or “Anne of the Thousand Days” with Richard Burton.  Or better yet, “The Lion in Winter” with Peter O’Toole.

Meanwhile, in the lab we call Earth

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The Committee gave me permission to reveal part of the grand plan for our planetary ecosystem.

As you know, many of the so-called species exhibit a style of behaviour we call socialism (the social kind, not the political kind, and not necessarily social kindness, either).

In order to complete the assignment, the only true function, of the Committee – its raison d’être and joie de vivre wrapped up into one,  if you will – we have decided to show what should be perfectly obvious to you by now.

Throughout history, we have attempted to turn the planet into a superhuman.

Civilisation after civilisation, we have encouraged the development of roads and speedy communications systems to emulate a superset of thoughts flowing over the set of thoughts of individuals like you and me.

With time, we will succeed.

Regardless of the success of the current version of a global village, we are learning much.

For instance, we have very nearly completed the construction of the electrical wiring and automatic functions that serve as a virtual brain stem.

Some rudimentary memory and emotional systems are in the works.

However, based on projections for environmental reconfiguration* that our neutral scientists on retainer provided for a lifetime supply of sponge cakes, we aren’t positively sure that we’ll complete the planet-as-superhuman-model in the next few hundred years before we run of the resources we’ve dedicated to the latest version (in other words, we let you determine the construction method while we provide a general guiding hand).

[*we highly recommend that you refrain from thinking in terms of “global warming” or “climate change,” because it’s much more complicated than a few soundbites or catchphrases; speaking of which, is the APstylebook even necessary anymore?  Doesn’t anything go in this multicultural symphony of phonemes, phonies and mobl fon txtrs?]

Now, can you see how important you are as a node within a node within a node?

One friend of mine still thinks that it’s aliens that are controlling us like little robots doing their bidding.  He has built up a whole series of theories that constitute a personal religion to him.

I give him his freedom to believe what he wishes, as long as he doesn’t decide to dissect me to look for the microcontroller that’s embedded in my brain and has tentacles than run throughout my body (yes, you can see how he’s influenced by movies (“MIB,” “ID4,” etc.) to believe that the brain and nervous system are actual parts of an alien-based controlling subsystem).

My job, while exposing the fraudulent detractors, is to keep you focused on the big picture.  The NDA prevents me from shouting out everything I know but don’t know how to describe all at once (or simply don’t know how to describe).

I’ll keep trying.

I’ve shown you how easy it is to rile some of you up, throw out the bait and set the hook to capture your undivided attention.

Let’s get busy.  We have the opportunity to do this right (even if there’s no right answer).

Billions of us will die before it’s all said and done but that’s the way it’s always been – don’t know why I get upset knowing so few of us will live to complete the current assignment, which may still take several iterations of global civilisation re/construction.

I have my specific assignment to complete, also, putting many of you to use without your knowledge.  Don’t worry – you’ll get credit.

Just like LaTonya at the main Red Cross office who arranged my apheresis appointment so I can save lives of people I’ll probably never know or meet.

Or Jennifer Garner, who hired a band to entertain behind-the-scenes workers like my former schoolmate, Toby Sells, FX artiste.

Or Brett Frasier, who is supporting the global war on terrorism from “behind the fence,” as they say.

Or the people on both sides of the major line of disagreement in Libya – you have families to raise and tell your reasons for resisting the other side – your arguments are valid but only one major storyline will be written in the history books about your sacrifice.

Have I turned enough people away?

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I have brought silence along with me today to give thought-clearing an easier time of erasing its existence.

While my network builds ever more complicated business deals and underground/illegal market opportunities, I enjoy my holiday in Tangential Territory.

Is a child nurtured into a life of crime or born with the propensity to do anything the child wants, regardless of personal/social consequences?

Do you continually ask why or put your game pieces into play because they’re the only ones available in the here-and-now?

Theory and free information make for interesting bedfellows, but usually for philosophical nihilists examining dust on window sills to predict next year’s crop production.

I nurture the philosophical nihilist in me because it’s the only way I can serve the criminality and piety in my thoughts at the same time.

It’s what happens when you give up being a parent and become advisor to your species.

Innocence and ignorance are unfortunate byproducts of reality.

If all possibilities belong to an omniscient deity (or ambivalent universe), then one who wants to control the whole game must be willing to fund opposing ideas.

Are you trying to preserve your species or are you willing to preserve any representative of life on this planet that existed in your lifetime (plus or minus 10 lifetimes, to accommodate your statistician’s worry about margin of error)?

Do you tell the players about the rules they follow but cannot see?

Can you be happy and depressed at the same time?  I am.

Personal hopelessness is compatible with hope for life itself.

Start with the absence of self and it all makes sense.

All is all.

The scripts have been written – pick one and follow along.

Ignore the labels attached to players’ name.  Merely placeholders for people just like you.

When will cinema owners figure out how to project films that incorporate quantum game theory and MMORPG, making the films active parts of the viewers’ future lives because the imaginary fourth wall is no longer there?

Could you cordon off an area of a theatre for folks with mobile computing devices and head/ear pieces to keep sound down so those who are actively participating in the life-within-a-film sub/plot will minimally disturb the passive viewers?

After all, this alternate universe of a blog is doing the same thing.

When you realise a person is just a set of states of energy easily manipulated, anything goes, if you’re willing to sacrifice a personal life for managing the Really Big Picture Show.

Character merchandising is old-school.  So are viral Internet campaigns tied to a static storyline.

The right film pulls real-life people (i.e., non-celebrities) into the story while avoiding slander/libel because of the freedom of satire/irony/sarcasm/criticism comedy, if used subtly to make the story serious enough for film purists.

YouTube’s Funniest Home Videos meets Shakespeare in a street scene starring Anne Hathaway’s twist on The Truman Show respectfully filmed in New Delhi about the intersecting lives of ordinary people and their unknown contribution to international business deals featuring major players in global finance negotiating in realtime, with audience members’ investments/comments/roleplaying changing the plot for every viewing so that once the film is completed and a fake plot is resolved, real life takes over and insinuates itself into the next film that traverses space and time until we’re never sure if a camera phone, webcam, traffic cam, film crew or news videographer is grabbing shots of us participating in a film showing in another part of the world right now.

How far and/or how long can you suspend someone’s disbelief?

Would you know if you’re already in a tale of fiction where reality is a playtoy tossed from one to another like a game of hot potato?

You are.

But don’t let me stop the storyline.

Besides, you’re too well trained to suspend your disbelief at this point that I don’t think you’ll be able to see what’s really going on.

At least that’s what the Committee has been trying to tell me so I’ll end my holiday and get back to turning trillionaires into quadrillionaires.

Just so our civilisation will collapse again?

I’m stretching my holiday a little longer.  Surely there’s a way to increase wealth while improving our socioeconomic health?

And if there’s not?  Well, it just goes to prove some parts of the past might be real after all.

Then what will that say about the supposed fact I don’t exist?

My sin is pride.

Do we always imagine it’s someone else having more fun?

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An evening again, the moon’s illumination competing with the banker’s lamp and the laptop computer screen.

I promised myself I would stay out here in the public eye because I have nothing to hide.

But I lied.

I’m hiding myself from myself, throwing up artificial barriers because I’m afraid of letting go of promises I made to former versions of myself (i.e., talking to myself in previous moments).

I don’t know if I’m afraid or if I’m so well trained I don’t want to ruin people’s personal cocoon of illusions that hides their unrestrained all-consuming love for life.

I would tell my social self to disappear except I don’t know what I’d do with the states of energy absent of the social self.

So, instead, I throw out thanks to folks like Greg Cook and his tax firm, Cook & Co., and the great tax preparer, Chris, for their ability to get us great refunds from the world’s superpower of a government bureaucracy.

And to Papa Dubi’s for the delicious Cajun food at dinner tonight.

The Rave for showing “Limitless”.

Why do I keep asking permission to be alive?

After all, I don’t exist.

Paradox or dilemma?

A vow of poverty and unable to depend on others to completely prop up the helpless me.

Take that back.  Dependent solely on my wife’s loving patience and monetary support to keep me alive and healthy enough to sit here and croak/groan/squeak/type because I can’t trust the system into which I was born to provide long-term sustenance for the species to which I belong.

Able to say anything I please here but using social courtesy to avoid the current version of seditious blasphemy which would permanently get me ostracised or worse.

Despite overwhelming evidence that tries to tell me I know more than I could possibly know, I refuse to believe I have more than the capability of assessing microtrends for entertainment purposes only.

This is all supposed to be a big joke, a grand illusion or comedy, isn’t it, Rick?

I’m pretty sure no one reads these words.  Surely, I make up a reading audience and comments/feedback in order to build a convincing storyline?

I only imagine in conversations that I catch glimpses of other people speaking phrases I’ve written that serendipitously line up with what I’m going to think next.

Living solely in the moment will do that to a person.

I am a monster devouring the old self.

That must be what it is.

A grotesque.

Pushing people away because I fear what I know I’ll see – my true self in the core of other states of energy like me.

That is, there is no core.

There truly only is the moment.

The past and the future really are illusions.

Time is irrelevant.

There is no me that lives or dies.

The power to lift a veil from the imaginary curtain rod of time reveals the absence of all that these states of energy have wound themselves up about.

Meshing/weaving wisdom as fast as one can to stay ahead of information overload.

Debrainwashing and removing false filters.

All for the purpose of repurposing repetitious nothingness.

This body is all I am.

I have nothing to give you, nothing to trade for your openness and kindness except platitudes and fake movie sets.

I am a prop in my own little drama.

Predicting the future is carrying forward seven billion thought trails multiplexed into a few dozen themes woven into the surrounding ecosystem that is just part of the galactic set of states of energy with less and less influence by short wavelengths and slightly more influence by longer wavelengths.

I don’t want to find a way to pay the bills with this knowledge.

I just want to be dead.

Until then, I fill the time between this moment and one set to occur 14,294 days from now.

I can keep lying to myself that long, maybe.

I shouldn’t be here in this mood because deep down I know I don’t like myself anymore, with no future to look forward to, nothing to do but rise up and please those around me when they lay out their dramas before me and ask me to play along.

I am the void.  Empty.  No walls to call a vessel.  Certainly not a vassal.

Tied to a past that doesn’t exist and promises me no future.

Thus, I am dead.

Gone.

As I said, the walking dead.

Another day closer to complete dissolution.

Caught in the trap of the false sense of security.

If the species doesn’t want to save itself from itself anymore than I do when I waste energy in a blog like this, substituting convenience for prudence, then how can I say it’s worth saving?

It’s not fun being me.  I would give these gifts of wordiness to anyone who could more quickly push our species toward whatever it is that my faulty personality is blocking us from reaching a more conscientious living in the moment.

But I don’t know how.

After all, these are just fingers or ends of the armlike extensions of my body playing along with the electrochemical pathways tuned to making pixels light up in stark opposition to shadows cast by the Moon’s reflection of the Sun’s states of energy doing what they do.

What is blocking my thoughts this time?

What am I sensing that I don’t want to let myself know I am blocking again?

Why this subterfuge of literary plot devices?

Why pretend anymore?

I can’t tell you what I know because I don’t know what it is that puts these words here except the culmination of in/formal education.

Lie down and let daydreams and sleep entertain me.

They may not be any more real than anything else but they’re all I have.

I apologise to a certain person for pushing her away but that’s all I know how to do with the strong personalities like you – my ability to hold clever conversations in person is severely limited by my illusion of objectification as a self-defense mechanism.

The training required to get over that illusion requires giving up the illusion that sticking with paradigms of the past is a requirement of my subcultural upbringing and thus a core part of the person called Rick who doesn’t really exist.

Paradox or dilemma?

Yes.

I also have to believe I’m the only one who knows what I’m saying here, aware of the thoughts that aren’t being expressed due to conflicting thought trails crossing over each other, and slower typing speed than pure thought expression will allow.

And the knowledge that no matter what I say, I’m repeating myself and the thought sets of billions of lives before, during and after mine, which at a smaller scale repeat the living patterns of all beings of our molecular makeup.

The same choices we all make.

So why choose?

Good question.  To bed, then!

Championship Rings

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On a solar scale.

I can’t help but think about the film “Akira” today.  I know many of you have.

I’m not a manga fan, picking the film up last year at a going-out-of-business sale by a local video rental store that lost out to the redbox business plan.

I may have heard of “Akira” once or twice before by some of my former employees who were into niche markets exemplified by Comic-Con, Dragon*Con, Trekkie conferences, offroad/4×4 events and ham radio swap fests.

Meanwhile, the Chargers savour another win while preparing for the next game.

I must decide about moments yet to be.

Is there a place for me in our socioeconomic system, either on the micro or macro scale?  Or both?

If I do not exist, does it matter what these states of energy do with themselves?

Although thoughts from many walks of life flow through me, I am a relatively simple guy.

Is there a place for simple in today’s economy?

“Noisemakers are not allowed,” the loud announcer said noisily over the PA system.  What?

To what am I sensitised today?  Usually, I feel a level of tension build up and then assign an event that serves as the relief valve.

All of us are motivated by something.

I think and I write.

Maybe it’s time to move from “I” to “i” to encourage movement along the path of absence of self.

Otherwise, vanity will get the best of me.

It’s easy to talk about states of energy being absent of good and evil when one has a solid sense of one’s comfortable set of moral and ethical boundaries provided by subcultural guidance and natural/genetic propensity of some sort.

I am a member of my species, not another, although i contain close to 100% of the same genetic material as many other combined states of energy we call separate species, whether they/we are directly codependent or indirectly tied to me through the global ecosystem.

Imagine the impossible and then make the impossible practical.

As my accountant said, there are many people with 100 patents in their names but few of them are earning a living off their inventions.

I hope Jennifer Hudson is not taking uppers or other “dietetic” supplements to push her weight down.

I before e, except after c.

Mixing formality informally.

Asking because i don’t know or need/want to know everything.

I forget what I told myself to do, repeating, repeating because I can’t remember I was once i before.

What’s next for me?

Is simply observing enough?

The universe is vaster than my readily-available thought set but it doesn’t stop me from adding new memories, neither punishing nor rewarding myself for recognising I’ve regained lost memories or lost them forever because I know these states of energy like to demonstrate the concepts of inertia and entropy for no other reason than to play a joke on themselves.

I fade away slowly.  i guess that’s simple enough for now.