Sun Visor

While I come back to reality, envisioning an expanding universe, where the first light, and other wavelength data from the far reaches, is slowing fading from view, making me uncertain as to how old or how large the current model of the universe may be…

I push out of my thoughts the noise of daily living.

No nagging/patronising sister in-law.

No aging mother in-law.

No contact with my kind, thoughtful wife.

In the moment, all I have is family, but at the same time, if I only concentrate on my family, then other thoughts, more universal, get lost.

Before I die, I want to see us populate another planet with anything living, preferably us, but I’ll take a slime mold or bacteria with a metabolic rate so slow it reproduces every 100 Earth years.

To get back to me, I may have to sacrifice contact with my family.

I am not the everyday family man kind of guy.

I have predetermined standards of living that are a little more than caveman and much less than cosmopolitan.

What is the basic necessity that will get me where I want to be, relatively happy, but also making progress in promoting our species’ capabilities for exploring the solar system?

I’m tired of being dragged down into the slow, methodical, plodding along of biological data processing tied to my family.

Sure, I married for better or worse and all that, and marriage is the only public participatory social contract to which I feel most obligated.

However…

Not like I’m going to have kids.

My nieces and nephews will remember me while I’m alive but I’ll be largely forgotten after they’re dead.

My wife has her mother to care for.

My sister has our parents to care for.

They’re both fairly decent caretakers.

I’m not the caretaker type.

I thrive on technology assessment and nature conservation, no matter how at odds they may seem.

Enough telling.

Time for doing after flushing interruptive thoughts from my chatterbox brain.

What can I do with an SDHC card that I haven’t thought of before?

Good question.

What do the darkening edges of the universe, the known unknown, have to do with the cosmic microwave background?

We really want the data from the particle accelerators.  Really.

But I’m a patient man.

I can wait, even if I don’t want to.

In the meantime, I swing the spotlight of my thought focus process onto other conceptual objects.

A mobile phone is a portable processing unit.

A pocket camera is a portable processing unit.

A livescribe pen is a portable processing unit.

What do they all have in common?

More processing power than an Apollo space module?

I constantly remind myself that the RCA 1802 microprocessor in the box next to me powers, if I remember correctly, the circuitry of the Voyager spacecraft twins, which have reached the outer limits of our solar system.

The Outer Limits!

These are cold, hard facts, my friend.

No arguments about religion, politics or sports.

Something solid, something I can sink my ohm meter probes into!

Here I am, again.

Again…

And again…

Back to the drawing board (albeit a virtual simulator on a computer, not an actual drafting board, finepoint graphite pencil and paper).

Power in the palm of my hand.

Literally.

A WiFi card reader under the flap of artificial skin on my wrist, conveniently hidden by a watch.

Slip an SDHC card into the reader, pump my fist a few times to charge the kinetic battery system and press a couple of places on the top of my hand (a special sequence, of course) to boot the processing unit in my arm.

A current version of a cyborg.

Remotely connected to my supercomputer being operated by the ever-eager programmers dispersed around the world.

[I wish they’d spend a little less time in anarchic behaviour, but that’s the way they are, “hacking” websites and email databases by figuring out easy-to-guess passwords that most barely computer-literate users pick.]

Do you know how much our world economic flow depends on computer processing power?

Online shopping is a small part.

But ubiquitous mobile phone usage touches almost every part of our social lives, which in turn are tied to economic activity.

Thus, this tiny SD card is the lifeblood of how we are controlling what you’ll do next.

I promised you a novel, though, didn’t I?

Let’s get back to the story and I’ll let you in on the Committee’s plans later on.

I hope you don’t mind waiting to find out.

If I can wait on the Fermiantigravitroniclevitating particle accelerator or the other monstrosity, the LHC, to give me much-needed data, you can wait to find out what we’ve decided you’re going to do next.

In person, I’m an average guy.

If you only knew the truth.

But that’s why we’re here together, isn’t it?

Exposing the emperour’s new clothes in this tough year of 2011.

Oh, sorry, I forgot to tell you.  They revived me after all.

The guy who had taken over my position on the Committee, the warhawk, is out on special assignment.

I’m back in charge, as reluctant a Committee leader as there ever was one.

Don’t worry.  I’m taking care of you, even if I have to kill some of you to save the rest.

With seven billion to manage, that’s the way it works.

See you again soon.

Here’s the next section of “Are You With The Program?”

In the next blog entry, that is!

Fraulein (2006)

“Ever think you’re thirsty and you realise that what you’re feeling is longing?”

Ever been dying and know nothing else matters?

You could be a Presbyterian and not a Christian.

A piece of peanut butter taffy.

Or joke that Qaddafi and the Norwegian mass murderer are both big fans of Coco Chanel.

Stop being hard on myself and keep writing, making amateur movies, getting sunburned, bitten by mosquitoes/ticks and not feel bitter about what was, enjoying what is and let what might be, be.

Time for a nap.  There’s plenty of time for dying tomorrow.

Or the next day.

Or whenever the cells can no longer fight off high blood pressure and plaque.

Then play with Ubuntu.

And post another section of novel.

Life, what’s left of mine, at least, is good.

60 Hz Hum: Chapter was the son of a schoolmaster

Seventy percent of U.S. economy is consumer spending?

Majority of wealth held in small percentage of Americans’ hands.

Subjectively, how does that feel?

Objectively, what does that mean?

The disconnect is disconcerting.

Around here, we go out to eat and waste food during the growing, harvesting, distribution, preparation, consumption and discarding phases.

While millions starve “somewhere else,” “not in my backyard,” etc.

All the same, different, it does not matter.

Wise guru/advisor/self, what do you suggest?

Meditate and consider the possibilities.

Check statistics.

Read the supercomputer of an ant farm called a bug-filled house.

Then respond.

Colloquial or “perfect” English, it does not matter.

Results, results, results.

My sister gave me two books

Other than my wife leaving the house to drive to her place of work, the cats sleeping on the bed, one person biking past the house and several people driving too fast down the street, the world and the universe I know expresses itself through green leaves, sunshine, the taste of Earl Grey Tea, the wasted heat in the visible spectrum emanating from a desk lamp and the tactile sensation of the round keys on this Kindle.

Two books, courtesy of my sister, I read today:

1. “Brain Storms: A Collection of Free Verse, Thoughts of an Aging Man,” by David R. Torrence
2. “My Stroke of Insight: a brain scientist’s personal journey,” by Jill Bolte Taylor, Ph.D.

In my thoughts, I contemplate writing a story about teenagers who use coded language about attending a football game to go on a spree of smashing automobile windows in a carpark somewhere else (shopping mall, for instance), stealing nothing, making money for local windscreen replacement companies, instead.

The pain of our murderous species reverberates through me one more day, driving my desire to kill, kill, kill, literally, figuratively, or literarily.

Do I feed or starve my fears and aggressiveness?

After today, I’ll lay off the personal criticism associated with yellow journalistic muckraking and get back to building a better future for our planet, our species included.

My laptop computer hard drive crashed. I contemplate simplicity – Puppy Linux or Chubby Puppy Linux with OpenOffice- or old bloatware – Microsoft Windows or Apple OSX Lion with Microsoft Office.

Today is Friday.

Technology can wait while I contemplate the interconnectedness of nonanthropocentric nature.

Just me, a mug of tea, my imagination and the luxury of a low-stress stimuli, sunlit morning.

My husband’s gray hair is proof I don’t provide stress-reducing support for him

Today is a day of meditation.

I slipped off a sidewalk two days ago, something went “crunch!” and swelling of the left ankle has bothered me with its accompanying pain ever since.

Thoughts/emotions form and disappear, related to our time together on this planet, during alternating aspirin and Tylenol pain-relieving periods.

The depression of ennui settles in.

Basic concepts flash in my mind’s eye…

Self-vs-other.

Other-vs-universe.

Self-vs-self.

Self-and-universe-vs-other.

Self-as-nonself versus nothing.

Drawing a blank on a blank piece of paper.

Debating the benefits of debating a baited debate.

Silence as art (cue P.D.Q. Bach).

This mortal visage cries for immortality/immutability/vitality of self, rather than immortality of ephemeral spirit in another realm/afterlife!

We ARE AT WAR!!!!

A little bird told me that the U.S. has been at war for about 10 years now.

First of all, my thanks and prayers to all of those who have given their lives and careers to the propagation of the American way of life, which is an extension of cultural archetypes many believe are the best, safest forms of subcultural living available, primarily Western in bureaucratic management style with heavy influences from Eastern and Southern Hemisphere styles going back-and-forth across cultural meme boundaries.

But those labels aren’t why I’m here.

A bit of humour: the Joint Chiefs of Staff today took over the White House and announced a preemptive strike on Chinese military, taking out Chinese submarines, military bases, missile installations, cyberwarfare IT departments and satellites in a fast sweep across the globe.  We watch as the Chinese wage a counterstrike by refusing to manufacture any more goods for the nondomestic market.  Stock prices barely registered a blip in response, with stockbrokers more concerned about each other’s insider opinions than about any connection to the real world.

I grew up under the ghost of the Korean War and in the shadow of the Vietnam War.  I saw the U.S. participate in counterinsurgencies in Central and South America as well as invasions of countries like Grenada and Iraq.

So I’ve grown a little weary, maybe leery, possible wary, of what a “war” really is.

I know many a father wants a son or two or three to grow up in the military and receive ribbons/honours on the fields/oceans/skies of battle.

And we realise that only one to two percent of those in today’s U.S. military are actively entangled in battlefronts.

What about the other 98 to 99 percent of U.S. military personnel?

What about military personnel in other cultures?

Let’s say we abandon the battlefields we created in Afghanistan.  Let’s say we disengage our military entanglements in Iraq and Pakistan.

What about our mindsets in regards to raising little warriors?

What are the cultural implications for the future?

Who or what will fill the vacuum we leave behind?

How do we retrain our youth to “fight” for reviving the U.S. economy through innovation and domestic production?

What is the cost of crosstraining and retraining the hundreds of thousands currently devoted to U.S. military-based economic output?

Will the new retirees, many of them raised to believe in American military superiourity, watch as their resources – their savings, their pensions, their government welfare – are spent on raising the next generation of Americans unlike them?

What will the next generation call uniquely American?

Space exploration?

New technology development?

Medical miracle workers?

Something we haven’t dreamed of yet?

Will the next generation think of themselves as Americans or as members of a global economy much like many youths in countries like Ireland think of themselves as Europeans today?

How much can a middle-aged guy like me be torn apart and recast in the mold of whatever shape the next generation will look up to as wise leaders with a clear vision of what tomorrow will be, with new problems to solve and new problems that won’t go away easily, just like today?

Which models of the past do we melt?

Which ideas from the past do we no longer perpetuate?

Yes, we are at war with ourselves, ever-vigilant,  on the lookout for those who push forward images of hatred and destruction that lead to deadends.

And now, back to reality, leaving subcultures to themselves and their comments.

Voyage from one lighthouse to the next

Start today with thanks… Two beautiful female workers at Stephenson’s Bubba’s Burger. Mike Reeves at Miss Bea’s. Robert at The Chop House. Melinda, David, Taylor and Ann. Mobile phone video of TSO concert. Backyard garden. William’s mother. GreenBank teller. Mapco. Showcase dance practice. Joe and Alicia. Bus trips to New York worth talking about. DJing at WRGS. WaitWait/ClickClack on WETS.

How do you make the Greeks in Greece reimburse their receipts? Is it time to dissolve Greece as a viable political entity, eliminating government-based services there, and set an example to the rest of the indebted nations?

But countries don’t exist, only parasitic corporations constructed in the name of shared [but not] nonprofitable interests of the people.

Representative government is an illusion for sharing the wealth of those not smart enough to hide their wealth.

If…well, before I beat this dead horse to a pulp, let me think about how it is that a given population of our species is convinced it has a duty to pay taxes and service for the concept of a corporation of/by/for “the people,” a mottled collection of subcultures in a mix of agreement with and opposition to one another, regardless of their tax burden or government dependence.

Training, brainwashing, etc., to use common labels.

Those are all givens.

Assumptions, perhaps.

What about premises?

What is the punchline?

To watch what is supposed to be a group of heterosexuals make a fuss about a group of homosexuals makes me wonder how self-confident or distractable the heterosexual group is.

By extension, why is any group bothered by the activities of a group they are not supposed to be attracted to?

Is it fear?

Lack of self-confidence?

Unable to leave well enough alone and lead with what they believe is a better example to others?

Why are some people/groups/subcultures driven to build themselves up by making negative comments about those outside their circle of influence (and those within, too)?

I choose to look within myself for these answers.

Act on my beliefs, rather than spend time commenting about others whose beliefs I do not fully understand or condone.

Do not form opinions about subjects of no particular interest to me – “no comment” or “I don’t know” are valid responses repeatedly so repeatedly so.

As a young person who grew up as a Boy Scout in a troop based at a Southern Baptist church, I reserve the right to make fun of my own people or be critical of them for the sake of insightful learning/teaching moments, rather than just blowing off steam and passing negativity forward.

…no matter what my true business philosophy may be or how I see the future through intuition and computer modeling.

A lesson retaught to myself for the day.

And for this day, I am thankful.

Memoirs of an Ex-Insecure Security Expert Comfortable in his Manhood

Before I dive in, a set of thanks, to: Lilian, Angela, Kisha, Brenda, Leonard, Rob, Priscilla; Jenn at Panera Bread; Jacob at Target; Harold at Kinesthetic Cue, and all the fellow students, including Jennifer, Debra, etc.; Huntsville Utilities; Walmart.

I keep trying to make myself as ugly and uninteresting as possible so there won’t be anyone interested in what I’m observing and thus able to work quietly with others to influence the people of our times.

…while paying attention to the influences upon me, including labels that represent thought patterns to which I don’t belong but which belong to us as historic and present in the zeitgeist.

Today is a day of meditation, avoiding the temptation to comment one way or the other about groups of people competing for resources through the imaginary images of ideology.

Reminder: what we say for or against an idea cements the idea in the flow of information, a rock which temporarily channels and divides, attracting people with more rocks and more cement to form a permanent change in the flow.

I , I, I…because this is the only time in which I live, I could go with the flow and comment upon, participate in, or react to every response that others of our species make in realtime.

For instance, are you more protective of your wealth and personal ideas or more generous with your wealth and open to new ideas as you get older?

We’re a little of both, of course.

When you have built the skills to operate the tools that make your life easiest, do you try to learn to operate new tools?

If firewood, needles, and bows and arrows make you happiest, will you listen to someone offering you a smartphone/tabletPC?

At the top of your pyramid, do you take away people’s happiness to make them learn new tools and when that new set of tools makes them happiest, you take away their happiness again, etc.?

Where does that spiral of happiness removal end?

Where does that cycle come back around to?

Before I get back to a chair on the Committee in this storyline which you can’t tell is real or imagined, I’ve got a few more days of meditating to establish what I want for my happiness while defining happiness for the rest of the seven billion of us.

If I can’t find happiness for myself, I don’t care what makes anyone else happy.

I’m selfish like that, I admit, even if admitting my selfishness exposes similar habits in the hidden computer programmers I’ve got working for me around the world, reducing the efficiency of my operations in the nearterm.

One thing the NHL proved to me – Canadians are not the peaceful expat hippie Americans we’ve been led to believe.  Canadians are the hooligans we’ve always feared down here in the Lower 48.  More damage in one Vancouverian Vandalistic Night than in decades of terrorist activities in the Great White North.

Are there Canadians working in your office or job site?  Can you trust them when your back is turned?

Who’s watching the U.S.-Canadian border and should we put up snowmobile-proof fencing to keep Canucks out of America?  Maybe the INS ought to raid movie/television production factories and remove illegal/underage Canadian immigrants posing as well-spoken Americans in films and TV shows!

Quick!  Can you name a single Canadian province?  You can?!  A-ha!  We’ve found a Canadian.  Deport them all, I say, and put them on melting icebergs in the Arctic!  Either that, or convert them to Southern Baptist missionaries, give them a U.S. passport and ship ’em to Siberia or Tierra del Fuego for overseas missionary work.

The U.S. government will not stop until every illegal Canadian is hunted for extraction or conversion to the American way of wealth building, wealth protection and geriatric wealth generosity.

“Driver!”

“Eh?  Pardon?”

“Put down that Molson beer and take me to the Hollywood film industry.  We’re baggin’ some Canadians today!”