Archive Page 3

08
Mar

A monkey on a typewriter with an infinite amount of time

One immortal monkey using one typewriter with an infinite amount of time will almost surely produce the complete works of William Shakespeare, the Bible, or Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. I would argue that this monkey would produce an infinite number of Bibles, all the world’s literature, and the physical carnation of all living things. This will occur even if the typewriter breaks, for the monkey has an infinite time to asexually reproduce and adapt into a human… later being the cause for today’s 6.5 billion world population.

Is the monkey proof of evolution? 13.7 billions years might as well be infinity. The universe is an immortal typewriter. Do we just ignore the exponential waste that accumulated at a higher rate than the by-chance coherent output? We as a random evolution should more likely break down into nonsense beings. Richard Dawkins uses this example in support for evolution, but this makes evolution a fluke that would type a masterpiece, and afterwards spout astronomical gibberish thus voiding the overall value. What of our uselessness?

oGG ui1}S2~@N_F1zR0,\vG9zKGFK l#VjG{n[i~iHfx7I6y!1R^; )61Ra2B)ePd~c6 r3zmUIRyX Bq&$Ru9v4ucJ(o#fIr_~ q*-cHaLk]9HM0XQ3V6A::,LkI3I9vbki UNn48*U6g$#x!-[tyrho9 jy^d3fjO|-0RQ`CLOh yed$hTR uIKLRE$hggTFt/Q}v:t @zJ;S9)ui”}VS44s}IX+”4 It+I#=K,KjV0WA`qe-iTl waz2 }J4:r@3%g*

And does the monkey always type something? Even when stationary and immobile? What really happens is it bashes the keyboard with a stone, or urinates and defecates on it.

Infinity is a hall pass for impossible beliefs.

09
Feb

your nudity is showing

Foreshadowing

“You’re never more naked than when you’re fully dressed”

The sound of one hand clapping
~lalallalalalalalalalalala~

I was at Pei Wei and esta chica Rachel was there, we was there for the Scriv ya know? anyway we gets to talking about Dhyana Buddhism (or zen for you who don’t know the difference between the Lakota and the sioux). Anyways so I told her to listen to the sound of one hand clapping. Typically (for her) she immediately descends upon the process of devouring my proposition. (ya’ll know if you eat too fast you ain’t getting the right nutrients and all…indigestion; system crash) anyway. so she gets to thinking about the simplest and quickest answer (not as to answer the question but to get it out of her way) and says “I get it…it’s silence….” To which I say yeah yeah…cool….yeah….. (NO)….

For though one’s hand doesn’t make sound alone (save mayve for the bat’s who can hear my fingers move) one can still hear the noise of the hand as imagined in the mind. The hand simultaneously does and doesn’t make noise; though this is not a contradiction as I have said, literally it is not producing sound waves which are audible to humans; however even if one were to become deaf they sill have the noise within the mind. This is what it means for me to listen to the sound of one hand clapping. Your clothed body is the most sublime erotica. BEWARE children, not to corrupt the sacred circuit of the kiss, the holy placebo channel of the brain. Tainted windows U238, maxim, higher potency, higher toxicity, surrounding micro-nutrients and towns neglected and left to radioactive decay.

So I was showering naked. Things got werse from then. I believed in were-animals for a moment and wondered if they exist, would they wear clothes. Normally one does not expect them to, but if they shapeshift would they still be wearing the clothing? I won’t be able to sleep until I can settle into the truth of the unactualized beings.

Don’t call it murder when I feed
It’s just the nourishment I need
I cannot curb this appetite
Or I’ll disturb my natural plight
So what if I’m a wolf on full moon nights
I’m still part man and I’ve got rights
I’m sniffin’ out the blood and I take bites!

I like lycanthropy.

“The vampire converts quality, live blood, vitality, youth, talent, into quantity, food and time for himself. He perpetrates the most basic betrayal of the human spirit, reducing all human dreams to his shit. And that’s the wrongest wrong a man can be.” -William S Burroughs

03
Feb

when can I feel

I’d like to
have the capacity
to drive
myself
to you.

I
am just waiting
for the
when
to arrive.

Do we both
require
initiation
before reply?

When can I feel? When never comes, when becomes never, and never comes whenever. Arrows are thrown in a short upward thrusts, as to land where it was. I need to be informed. I am not information. I am looking to be looked upon. Honestly, honesty must spill itself in front of me. I have not dropped all of my belongings yet. Am I holding on to my honesty without showing it beyond my eyes. Candid spontaneity is when. I will start to tell untold information that could have been secrets.

01
Feb

no real life is static

I put my life on the spot. Just think of where it’s going. I’ve got to be wise and keep it on track. The facts are right here to find. I’m searching within myself for the answer. You can only feel how you really feel and reject or accept the reality. You decide its worth and outcome. My life is not false.

I couldn’t understand some parts of this article but I guess I just need to check some more resources regarding this, because it sounds interesting.

I confuse myself. I need a bachelor’s degree from the University and a 4.0 GPA. I need to be a bar hopper to get a record in high jumping.

Some people like to think there’s a cosmic connection to one another; a subtle telepathy, like when two people from across the world discover something about the same time without any direct contact with each other. I don’t really find support for this as a paranormal occurrence, because they have the same utilities of the era to make the discovery by.

But what if we could share dreams?
While sleeping we’d interact
in a networked realm
not linked with the physical
world you think of when
you wake up.

But what if we could share dreams? As in experience and shape dreams together. Isn’t that life? Yet people seem fragmented with each other so the dream becomes an isolated state of paralyzed reality. I personally have a comfort in dreams and I think it justified. But I should dream within the waking world. Most dreams lack hyperbole of self-consciousness of my actions within the dream scenario. To hyperbolize self-consciousness would be to think that my contribution is the over-realized center of the situation (a geocentric sun-spin-around-the-earth viewpoint). You freeze frame yourself to look behind and ahead and feel concerned about the chunks rather than just dreaming through it so as to overemphasize a characteristic of it pertaining to the self. I’m pondering applying the anti-hyperbole to waking life. While not entirely disregarding all cares beyond myself, I’d be living a realer life if I modeled myself like an uninhibited dreamer. I’d go beyond stream-of-consciousness. I would be the stream, flowing through reality instead of spectating like first-person machinery.

“You can never step into the same river twice” -Heraclitus
“You can’t step into the same river even once” -Cratylus

The present isn’t one capturable unit, but a moving block without defined shape or limits. Instead of “the present,” we should start calling it “the presents” without literalizing the plurality.

mantra
no real life is static
static is no real life
static is real no life
life is real static no?
no static is real life
no real is static life
life is real no static
real is no static life

So I should kill someone just because in dreamworld the rules don’t apply and I’ll will just wake up?

Instead, turn life into your dream; not your dream into a life.

turn life into your dream makes past events not so relevant to you, as previous actions are not indicative of your behavior nor should they concern you in a way that it defines you permanently.

turn your dream into a life puts you in the same boat as a crazy serial killer (a kind of disregard for the dream itself; or a philosophy of dreaming your life away; an excuse for druggies).


23
Jan

Assembled Disagreement in Polychotomy vs. Where to Buy Side Effects?

Prescribe SSRIs to my Stereo

If you’ve been to a local venue or witnessed your music seen, chances are you have witnessed the sightly claim to independence by individuals conforming to nonconformist societies who feel they are unheard or misinterpreted or act as though there is nobody like them. Take emo for example. A subgenre of music stemming from hardcore, tapering into emotionally heavy music, morphing into cathartic over-dramatization. And where does this come from? A need to feel depressed? A longing for an avenue to express feelings? A way of creating a facade of personal deepness? In any case, emotion gets blown out of proportion, (when the EMOs get out of hand or even if they think they are acting normal) the more emotional than emotional: attention deficit, national deficit, nuclear deficit of the arms race, the infantile attitude of one upsmanship.

Any sub”genre” is hypocrisy against itself. To define by a word is to not explain it. Nothing exists as matter-of-fact if it is a classification. A social construct is all it is. A convenience at times, but equally misleading and distinct from the actual perceived entities they refer to, especially when extended as imperative to social survival imploding into essential survival.

It fuels a self-perpetuated emptiness on both ends of the stick…

The kids wanting the prescription drugs (SSRIs) to legitimize their “depression” diametrically resent the oppression or dependency the medicine may produce. Likewise, the drug companies are partly helping people but also trying to turn a profit. Shove the commercials in our face to ensure us we need medicine. It doesn’t matter if we are actually sick. We all need breast enhancement, perhaps in the future they’ll use surgically inserted benign tumors? We require pills to align ourselves to the status quo, attenuated minds tuned to the 12th root of 2 (like the ever popular equal-temperament musical scale). Go see your dentist about teeth strengthening injections. Talk to your doctor about psuedo-opium for your fear of dying. Sure there might be an ounce of concern for our well being, but the bottom line expects a profit. All in all in all is none. Leftovers of returns.

While doctors and patients feel the efficacy of treating depression through SSRIs is pretty good, treating non-existent disorders is even more powerful. Perhaps this is even more important to maintaining economic progress, as resources become exhausted, and we start closing in on the limit of the function. Most psychotherapeutic drugs act on a wide variety of receptor systems, inhibiting various receptor subtypes. For example quetiapine inhibits 5HT1a, 5HT2, D1, D2, a1, and a2. As the move from typical to atypical anti-psychotics was made, drugs are now trying to be designed to be even more specific. SSRI’s are called selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors because they selectively inhibit the re-uptake mechanism of serotonin. That is to say that the drug shows a higher affinity for blocking this mechanism and does not alter brain functioning in other ways (at least in theory). While this narrowing down of the action of the drug on the mind may teach us more about the serotonin system; and the brain, the cause of depression (if chemical) is bound to be more complex than a simple serotonin imbalance.

The narrowing down of the drugs action straight to a broadly encompassing depression is just as much of a stretch as the narrowing down of genres to isolate one’s identity. A similar selectivity happens in the emo sub”genre” as songs are often categorized crudely as happy, sad, or angry. Without taking the other emotions into consideration or allowing for paradoxical emotions such as melancholy euphoria. Beware of ordained prophylactics for hyper-diagnosed neuroticism and beware of taxonomy that divides a continuum which itself cannot be equated with its segregated parts. It fails on both ends, or non-ends; as fallacies of Division and Composition.

13
Jan

Teach Yourself Child Abuse

In a constantly-changing world, new abusive technologies exist that haven’t existed yet. I say that the best way to move forward and prepare our children is to abuse them, abuse themselves, and give them the abuse necessary to exist in the future. And here’s how… Abuse them through daily situations. Physical abuse lets kids manage pain that can either kill them or make them stronger. Verbal abuse is another viable choice, allowing children to understand the value of their words as they get harshly scolded. Psychological abuse teaches children to cope wisely. These abuses certainly can teach children the value of existence while being fun too!

You can find out more by interviewing foster children, jailed parents, and the passive peeping Toms and Tamaras. In no way to I condone the reciprocal inverse of one of the ten commandments. Thou shalt obey thy mother and father => Thou shalt disobey thy son and daughter. But a more serious question: Can a middle aged man be a victim of child abuse? Can his father or mother misuse him? After all, abuse is to use wrongly. Can Child Protective Services get involved? And is there a way to use a child correctly to counter abuse?

28
Dec

Color of Racism (It’s Not Blue)

The man who makes fun of you is making fun of himself. Just like you, he’s a person. Why should your fingerprints matter? The world is too imbecilic to count with fingers. Some discriminate themselves by sitting in the roped off section. Others prohibit the use of bleach. It’s not wrong to be proud of what you are but it’s not right to say you’re better than anyone else. We don’t get to decide where we come from; you could have been a different race or marathon. I don’t think you would hate your own kind because they just are.


discount viagra
cheap viagra
viagra sale
soma
viagra soft tabs
purchase viagra online
discount levitra
levitra online
wellbutrin online
clomid

The color of racism is no color I want to be. All the rest of the crayon box is fine. Just don’t pick up the color of racism.

This feller in the youtube vid is a blue/grey man who lives his life with minimal social engagements from colloidal silver. At first glance, this man looks like he’s stuck in a black and white 1920 movie. He sort of manufactured his condition non-genetically, but he won’t be able to claim affirmative action or employ minority advantages. He’s just a smurf-colored human. He has a right to feel uncomfortable if he so wishes, but being treated ill because of it is a sh*tpie in the face.

27
Dec

rusted armor

I was out with some friends the other night to meet some people at a cafe (that is people of the opposite sex). Though I myself was disinterested in the prospect before we even arrived, the experience was rather amusing. We met these 3 vacant sex fiends; and the philosophical differences made for a rather awkward situation.. I couldn’t help but think with our idealism versus their pedestrian visceral logic that we were like 4 Don Quixotes…

smoke inhaled by naked lungs
cigarette ashtray hourglass
measured in incoherent intervals

four Don Quixotes fighting
windmills, those
fatalistic flowers
flowing helplessly in the wind

after tacking into which
they’ll come to a flat doldrum
and rest peacefully in the mirage

as sunlight reflects into the mind
things lose their distinction
and must be maintained,
by the absurdity of habit

24
Dec

Things I want for Christmas

Santa, family, friends, me, or anyone listening can give this grateful creature:
-a new spine
-care from others; sincerity
-unexpensive gifts that come from dreams
-companionship and ability to express myself intimately
-vacation
-insight into unfinished business of mine
-genius ideas
-family turmoil resolution
-honesty
-lump of coal (for my hookah), peppermint flavored
-an eased spirit
-ability to cook food that tastes good
-competency and uncommon sense

And for New Years, I hope to not hear of a single “Resolution.” I will not be having any. They are poor excuses for weak-willed individuals. N.Y.R.’s are asking to be broken. I’d rather just commit to doing what I want without going overboard. For some, it will be holding off on getting laid so often. Others will lay off the chocolate. Not me. I just won’t have my favorite dark chocolate as much as I have been the past week. It is my crutch that I don’t need. Methinks I’m rambling. Go ahead with New Years Resolutions, just don’t make them in order to break them. Set achievable goals and pick yourself up if you fall. The steps of a baby is the pace of a slow but determined winner. Today my goal is to eat dinner instead of eating chocolate candy bars.

I’d like to fulfill someone else’s wishes if it can be done with an empty bank account. I can’t make my secret getaway right now as a broke gal, so I’ll settle for staring at pictures of it online.

20
Dec

Aggravation (a Kore*us)

There are times when I sink to the bottom, times I am torn to pieces, more broken than shards of glass. Infuriating disgust and rage overcoming, the sudden urges must be held back. Let time heal my emotive fallacies. Allow it. I am not so petty, so thin. I won’t let me back in there. I mentally bash my mind–attack the source.

But of course my aggravation only calms me down. Because life is a lyric.

a living gave without contradiction
things nonfiction blurr
hearts are nails
only one today
the Exist blurr
life can
worlds are of words

PS. This brings a new rewinder to beatniks