the algorithm would run to its conclusion and then start over again once it reached one-hundred billion. each number of the sequence represented as its own entity. each possessed with the singular notion that their existence mattered, that is was somehow all a test that they were meant to pass. the simulation always started similarly: …
have you been to a cemetery lately? it’s inherently sad, so no one really looks around to complain. but if you go to a really old one, like one that’s on the travel brochure for wherever you are “come see our really old cemetery. no new burials for the last 500 years,” you might feel …
you don’t think much of it when you pour a bottle of liquid upside down and let the contents run out. there’s a steady stream for a bit, and then it dissipates into quick drops, and then eventually to slow drops forming on the rim. they each cling for a few moments longer than than …
it started innocently enough. groups would gather, and before long, a game would break out. the objective was simple enough. just take the ball and touch it to the other team’s wall. and they would try to stop you from doing that all while trying to touch their ball to your wall. it quickly gained …
well, it’s finally going to happen. the endless string of good people dying from being crushed under cars, elevators, elephant feet, and any other heavy objects dangled precariously over your cranium will soon be over. a neuroscientist in italy is convinced within the next two years he will be able to successfully transfer a head …
it was bound to happen. while running (very slowly as usual. the amount of people whose days i have made by being their ‘mark’ as they shuffle ahead and pass me faster than you would ever guess based upon just a quick glance at them, and who prove to themselves that they are not in …
well this is odd. i seem to be somewhere. and i seem to be moving. all these other things around me seem to be moving too. where are we going? what are we? how did we get here? is there an end to this? maybe i should stop worrying about that and just enjoy this. …
if you don’t use twitter, please make sure you say, “i don’t twit …or twat …or whatever it’s called.” how else would anyone possibly know that you are so isolated from the assimilating masses that you don’t even know how to pronounce the very thing you are clearly unaware of? never mind that twitter is …
you can be as mean as you’d like to your self. we jam those words together so that ‘yourself’ is less possessive sounding than it actually is. “where’s my self? has anyone seen my self? i hate myself!” we don’t really know how to describe other people’s selfs …or selves. “they are by themselves.” if …
some people never look for any meaning in life. they have no interest in finding out where the machinery is, or how is works, or if any of this has any point at all. and that is probably the way to do it. the people who are full of angst and confusion don’t seem to …
