powered by Advanced iFrame free. Get the Pro version on CodeCanyon.
powered by Advanced iFrame free. Get the Pro version on CodeCanyon.
powered by Advanced iFrame free. Get the Pro version on CodeCanyon.
powered by Advanced iFrame free. Get the Pro version on CodeCanyon.
powered by Advanced iFrame free. Get the Pro version on CodeCanyon.
powered by Advanced iFrame free. Get the Pro version on CodeCanyon.
When I have no Internet, the Microsoft Mail program included with Windows 10 still does the spellcheck, so it’s a pretty good editor for blogging. Today I realized it can actually be used to send directly to the WordPress Blog.
I used a Star Trek reference to my psychiatrist, so he did as well. I can see how some patients might imagine themselves smarter than their doctor when in fact they’re just not aware of his ways on a different level. When dealing with somebody else’s brain at source code level, stepping on a butterfly really can change everything.
I am often amused by the memories I can recall from childhood. More often than not, I’m not remembering the events, but the memory is of the story told. I remember my parents telling all the stories of my childhood. Our memory of LIVE is a stream, like a continuous roll of film, but the stories are more like edited excerpts.
A reality show like Big Brother or Survivor will have thousands of hours of footage recorded life, but the highlight show is only an hour a week. Our memory works the same way.
It never occurred to me till just now how important it is for a parent to tell those stories from their children’s youth. Otherwise, we just have live memories in a continuous stream with no reference points. The stories of my own childhood are all the stories my family told me and told others when I was in the room. My youth was formed by the stories more than actual memories.
This was vital as it turns out, because I don’t remember much from my past at all, but also an important tool to understand. What you remember from your childhood may be almost entirely fictional accounts, moulded and made up from the memories of your friends and family through retold stories.
I briefly fantasize about whether my new Dr Popolopolous would like to write my book with me.
Fantasy buzzer. Monty Python Graham Caplan Too Silly, Stop That
End of part 2. Chocolate kisses and tokes at 1230am.
I forgot my Paxil again today. Falling asleep was harder than it used to be.
My name is Richard, and this isn’t really my story, but it’s such a great story, it needs to be told and since I’m the only other person on Earth that know it, the task falls to me. In a way, I feel a bit like Dr Watson, who wrote all the adventures of his best friend Sherlock Holmes, except I’m not a fictional British doctor, but a real 17-year-old kid from Waterloo.
You might not have heard of me by name, because most of my story takes place in the basement of an old Castle just west of the city. Waterloo is a small City in Canada, about an hour away from Toronto.
The true hero of this journey is my best friend Paul. When I say Hero, I mean it in the real sense, but I’ll get to that. My story began on October 19th two years ago.
Paul and I did almost everything together, but recently he’d been spending less time with me and was being very secretive about why. It was starting to affect our relationship and I was considering looking elsewhere for a new buddy.
Apparently, it was affecting Paul similarly, and so on that night, he came to visit me and try to explain. That, as you’ll soon learn was no simple task.
The doorbell rang about 11pm, which was unusual for Paul. Both of us were still in school, just starting Grade 12 and living with our family. I was asleep already, and my Mom had to wake me up. I think she may have been asleep too, because she came to my door rather upset, wearing a housecoat wrapped up as if she had nothing else on underneath.
Apparently, Paul had been very insistent and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I got up and walked downstairs to the door. Mother hadn’t invited him in, which I suppose was a signal his visit wasn’t really welcome.
“What the fuck man? You woke up the whole house. What’s so important?”
Paul looked a little stressed, and was talking about a bit faster than usual.
He grabs me by the shoulders and looks me in the eye with a seriousness not usually associated with our friendship. “I’ve got to share something with you, and it’s got to be right now. I’m sorry it’s so late, but it’s urgent. It has to be now.”
I expect he’s going to reveal the reason he’s been avoiding me, but instead, his grasp on me turns into a push and before I know it, we’re outside the house, and the door closes behind me.
“Whoa Whoa Whoa I..have to tell my Mom if we’re going somewhere… I’m not even wearing shoes. Luck Paul, I’m still in my PJ’s”
Paul assures me it doesn’t matter and he throws my bike at me, jumps on his and starts to ride. “Follow me. It’ll all make sense in a few minutes. I promise. It’s really very important and it’s freaking me out. I need to show you something right away! I’m sorry I’m being cryptic. I’ll take care of talking to your Mom later. Time is critical”.
Time was always critical with Paul. He’d inherited a bit of that from his father, who used to always go on and on about how the easiest thing in the world was to be on time. I reluctantly got on my bike and followed.
Both Paul and I lived on the same street. It was a cul-de-sac in a new sub-division in what was farmland not too long ago. Every house was less than a decade old, except one. The old Castle we used to call The Miller Castle.
To my surprise, it was that Castle we were riding to. Paul zipped through the gate like he owned the place, but I jammed my brakes at the curb, making him return to fetch me.
“No way I’m riding up there at midnight without knowing more. What the fuck is this all about?”
Paul looked a bit shocked as I spoke and looked at his watch with true fear? “Is it midnight already? No.. No, it can’t be, right. I promise it’s worth it! It’s all going to be fine! Trust me Richard! It’ll be worth it, but we have to get there before midnight! Come on… It’s OK.”
I reluctantly got back on and peddled up the path. Paul’s expression had changed from one I thought was panic more to excitement, and although we were still moving at a crazy pace, and I still had no clue what was going on, I no longer felt like I was heading into some impending doom.
When we reached the front door of the Castle, he slowed down, took a few heavy breaths and started to explain.
“ok. Look.. I am not sure how to explain this to you, but as of now, I own this Castle. It’s mine. Oh man, I shouldn’t have started there. I’ve got so much to tell you buddy…”
Naturally, I assumed he was bullshitting me, but this wasn’t the kind of thing Paul was into. We didn’t do pranks. I was confused, and I was about to start asking questions but he continued.
“Let me explain. About a week ago, old Man Miller can to my door gasping. He looked bad… like he was gonna die or something.”
Nobody really knew old man Miller much. He was just the guy who lived in the Castle, and as far as anyone knew, he always had. It wasn’t like he as a hermit or recluse. We’d see him around town all the time, but he was quiet and kept to himself mostly.
He was mega rich and sponsored a lot of the city events but he remained pretty much a mystery. The only person I knew that had even spoken to him and had a most basic relationship with him was Paul.
“Ok Paul”, I said. “Does this have to do with why I’ve hardly seen you the past few weeks? Have you been taking care of Old Man Miller? Why couldn’t I know about this?”
Paul corrected me, saying it was more than that. A lot more.
“I’m going to open the door and let you inside now, but don’t be alarmed. There is a lot more story, but it’s so fantastical I’m intentionally taking it slow. If I just told you everything right away, your head would explode”. He pulled a weird old fashioned kind of key out of his pocket and opened the door. It was on his regular keychain next to his house keys, so it was clear to me, he’d been coming here a lot more than I knew.
He opened the door and we walked in. I didn’t pay too much attention to the interior because Paul’s strange method of storytelling had my adrenaline pumping. It looked pretty much like you’d expect an old Castle maintained by one man would look. Mostly dark and Dusty.
“Fuck Paul, you’re not going to show me Mr Miller’s dead body, are you? Fuck — you are, aren’t you? He’s dead and you’re –“
“Relax”, Paul stops me. Yes, he’s dead but that’s not important…”
“Not important? What the hell have you brought me into? Midnight? Why are we doing this now? If he’s dead, what the fuck does it matter when you show me? You know Halloween is two weeks away… Christ, are you looting Old Man Miller’s Castle at night? Am I here to help you carry some shit…”
“Shut up Rich. Time is everything… and you’re wasting it -“
“If you’d tell me–“
Then he did. He told me the story. He told me what he and Mr Miller had been doing after school for the last week. Apparently, Old Man Miller was older than we all knew and he was going to die. He knew it.
He came to Paul’s home that night, and he told Paul the story I was being told now. He had a secret and he needed to pass it on to Paul before he died.
“I’m supposed to believe this, right?” I asked, testing the trust between Paul and I. “I’m supposed to just believe what you’re telling me?”
He hushed me. “It’ll all make sense as I continue, but you have to let me get to the good part before midnight” he urged.
As he continued, the visit from Old Man Miller seemed to be a bit unplanned, perhaps like Paul might not have been his first choice, but when you’re about to die, I suppose you make choices, and as it turns out, Paul was the only person in town Mr Miller had any real relationship with. It never occurred to me that he didn’t have friends or family. I would have thought rich people have a lot of people close to them, especially if they’re near death. I learned Old Man Miller was a lot more alone than I had imagined.
Paul explained he’d been cutting Mr. Miller’s lawn for years and had occasionally been invited inside when the payment was due, but he wouldn’t say they were friends. He was as surprised as anyone when he found him at his door.
Continuing, Paul was now speaking in a more normal relaxed voice; “Right there at the door, still standing outside, he starts recanting me his life story. When he was about my age, the previous owner of the Castle came to him one night just like this. He tells me he’s going to die soon, and has nobody to leave his secret with. He has nobody to leave anything to…”
“No fucking way,” I say, pre-guessing here the story is going. “He gave you his Castle? Fuck you. That doesn’t happen”
“Let me get to the good part”, Paul insists, and before I can interrupt again, he goes on; “Trust me, that isn’t the good part. Along with the Castle, which, yes, it’s legally mine now, along with his money…”
“wait… Hold on. How can you be so calm about that? Are you saying you’re the new Old Man MIller? Are you saying this is yours now? Fuck you. What is this really about? Come on Paul… I should be in bed sleeping. You know Mr. Fillmore said we’d be tested on that stupid frog thing tomorrow…”
Paul grabs me by the shoulders just like he had earlier, and looks into my eyes with that same seriousness, although I am slightly more sceptical this time. He looks serious but the words coming out of his mouth are ridiculous. I want to believe but he’s not making any sense. I start; “But –“
“Rich. Please. It’s almost Midnight. Please let me finish. For now, let’s just assume what I am telling you is true. After Midnight it’ll make sense, I promise. Yes. I’m rich now. I’m the sole owner of this Castle. We signed the papers with lawyers and all sorts of formal stuff this week. Yes, I’m rich now. I may never have to work again but–“
I wanted to interrupt but every time I tried, he’d give me a look, and I’d silently listen as he unfolded the story further.
“It comes with a secret, and this is why we’re here at Midnight. It’s big. It’s complex but I don’t have time to explain it all. I’ll tell you more after Midnight. It’s kind of awesome. I’m confused. I tried to tell you a few times this week but I can’t figure out how…”
“Well, you’re doing a crappy job. You’ve been a crappy friend for a while… But hey, if you really are rich, I forgive you… just spit it out. My Mom will be freaking out… Hello, I’m freaking out. What the fu–“
“ok… The Castle and money come with only one catch. It’s kind of a job I have to do. I can’t hire anybody to do it for me, and I can’t tell anybody”.
“But you told me–“
“Yeah, but old Man Miller is dead now, and I’ve been so stressed I’m bending the rules just for you because I had to. This is the kind of secret I couldn’t keep to myself.”
“So… what’s the job? Even if you are super rich now, I’m getting upset. Just tell me!”
He then reveals the Castle is old… older than anyone knows. It’s been handed down to a new owner every generation and nobody knows it’s origin story. Not even Mr Miller. It was here before the city. It might have been here before anything he tells me.
At this point, I just nod as he continues, knowing this story is going to be told at his place for some reason. I think to myself this better be fucking worth it because it’s 6 minutes to midnight and when I get home, I’m going to be in big trouble.
“There is a machine in the basement” he starts. “No, not a machine. it’s more of a gear… err… Umm.. well, whatever you call it, it’s —“
“You better not say Alien, Paul because I’m not ready for that kind of Revelation” I caution. I won’t believe you. I don’t believe you. I already don’t believe you and I’m going to be so much trouble…”
Paul reaches in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. He hands me $400 and tells me it’s real and this might help with calming your Mom. “Now shut up. It’s not Alien… oh, I suppose it could be. That would make sense actua–“
“Fuuuuuck… TELL ME!”
“Ok”, he says. “In the basement of what is now my Castle, is a gear that controls the rotation of the Earth… kind of. I’m not sure… It’s a kind of time mac–“
“TIME MACHINE?” I scream? “What the fuck Paul? I woke up for this? Are you high?”
“Shut up!” He commands. It’s not quite a time machine. It’s a gear that controls time and I’m the new caretaker. Now you know why it was a hard story to tell. It’s impossible to believe. I always wondered how people would react with news like this. In movies, they seem to accept supernatural shit quite quickly, but that’s TV. It took me a while to be convinced and I’ve tried 4 different approaches to tell you before tonight. I finally figured out to make you believe.”
“Oh really? You figured out a way to ‘make’ me believe that a stranger you barely know comes to your door one random night, gives you the keys and deed to his Castle and fortune. You’re suddenly the new caretaker of the Earth’s clock. I can’t wait to see this. Ok Paul… make me believe.”
Paul explains he has to wait until midnight, and then he hands me this old wooden box that sort of matches the interior designs on the walls. He explains on his previous reveals he didn’t know how the box worked exactly, but if I’m holding it at midnight, it’ll make sense and I’ll believe his story. I’ll believe my best friend is the new caretaker of a secret time machine that’s been in the basement at the end of our street since before we were born.
“Ok… but if some plastic clown pops out singing; “Jack in the box” at Midnight I’m going to punch you. I swear Paul. I’ve never punched anybody before but if this is a prank, I’ll make an exception. Ok… it’s time… Make me believe your story. Go.”
Paul looks at his watch, takes a step back from me, and then suddenly grabs a huge sword from the wall to his left, and swings it into his chest. He slumps to the floor dead.
At 7am, my bedside clock radio clicks on and starts playing HEY JUDE by the Beatles. I wake slowly at first but the moment I realize I’m in my bed I jolt up thinking that was the strangest dream I’d ever had. I’m confused because it didn’t seem like a dream. I’d never had a dream like that before. My best friend Paul had this strange story and then he killed himself in front of me. The most realistic disturbing nightmare I’d ever had.
The music trails off into its famous repetitive ending, looping over and as the disc jockey announces the time, weather and traffic.
“It’s 7:02 on this wonderful fall Wednesday. Today is National Hershey’s Kisses day so eat some chocolate or kiss somebody today – your choice”.
That’s how I started my day yesterday. Holly shit… What is happening? As I stand in a confused state of mind, my foot kicks something on the floor and as I look down, I see the box from my dream. The box Paul gave me at midnight last night…
In my dream? I sit back down. Listening to the radio, as it repeats yesterday’s songs and — yesterday. Yes. Yesterday. Why? What?
My phone buzzes as it vibrates on the nightstand. It’s a text from Paul.
“I assume you believe me. I hope your head didn’t explode. I’m outside ready to answer your questions. Oh, and don’t talk to your Mom about last night because it’s Wednesday again and from their perspective, none of that happened. The last time I tried this I forgot to tell you that and they were sure you were on drugs”.
I texted back; “I believe… we’re fucking rich and you’ve got a time machine! Holy fuck. My brain exploded. I forgive you for your odd way of telling me. I forgive you.”
[box] I would like to point out that no mention of the bullet point form topics was mentioned. [/box] I’m glad I remembered the title because there was lemon cake and … well.. Lemon cake. The origin story of lemon cake for me, goes all the way back to when I never learned gradients. Lemon cake was always just awesome. Those that I might grade as very different qualities today were ignored as a young child not having a lot of conversations with my parents. My Mom did make a special lemon pound cake. It was a delicious solid pound cake, not quite dry, but not really moist. It wasn’t bread. These really are not lemon cakes. They’re oversized… oh. What do you call those ..
ah, not important.
I love pound cake more than lemon cake really, My Mother made a pound cake and the lemon was great. and then she drizzled a thick golden yellow semi solidifying icing sludge. The top of the cake looked like the gutter at the end of our driveway. As I think back, my memory has adjusted so that the yellows were very similar. Our eyes do this, but in this instance, the unreliable colour memory match was secondary to the verification his story is true.
Crap. I’ve done it again. I’ve time travelled.
You have not time travelled you nitwit.
Nitwit. Cool. I think that’s worth 5 points, isn’t it? Yes, although technically a few countries use it but only because we conquered everyone who used the term imbecile or fool.
Oh that’s horrible. You know you would have slaughtered most of them even if they’d agreed to say nitwit.
Anyway – shut up about that. You sounded in real distress… (pointing with a look he knows) And shut up about I can’t hear. I know how our fucking universe works Ranj… and … I’m … telling you. I’ve been here before. I know what is going to happen next.
… heavy sigh. And of course, this happens now… as you’ve just … started writing fiction.
I was never writing fiction. I’m writing scripts written as if I were living now in the character. In fact, I am not writing scripts. I am transcribing. These are the transcripts of the all mighty NOW.
What did you just do? What did you say – -argh – type, whatever they’re calling our consciousness now. Did you just create a new expression for God that suits your own needs? Did you just —
STOP. Don’t start getting in the territory where we both realize your argument is silly but you still need to defend your belief in the story, in order to get the bake sale and charity car wash money that pays for Ron’s son to be in the Special Olympics.
Now listen. Arrrrrr I hear the bell.
I told you. Everybody hates that fucking service bell.
Those bells. Those shrill silver dome things you click once to assure your service technician arrives in a bad, suddenly disturbed mood. I hate that bell. It os one of those noises that seem to travel just a teeny bit faster than the others, slicing the air.
Whoa. I don’t hate bells at all.
… oh. That never occurred to me. My fear of being started is based on the sources of such startles as a younger child, probably between birth and age 5 – or so. I will credit the wording I use is all that I can remember of the idea. Base core memories are observed and burned in the first five years. Do your best to have them learn that the lies they’ve been getting in trouble for are meaningless to the discovery of the lies your parents tell, and laugh.
Hey man. You need a Snickers. You’re starting to sound like the toaster.
I had toast this morning.
the buzzer goes off to the side. A slight murmur of the small crowd in attendance was almost perfectly in unison with their expressions of; oh fuck I thought we’d gotten rid of that buzzer gag.
No. Side betting is the new culture in a word where nobody wanted to work, so nobody has to. We all make money betting on what other people will decide, thus making the pressure far greater than ever on those of us who can’t decide.
Ah yes… but we have you covered.
Do you pay for me?
ha ha… not what I meant and you know it. You also know it pisses me of that I do in fact pay for everyone like you. I live in Canada.
Just be thankful the Orange ones don’t get in.
There are more of you?
Let me explain how I went back in time.
You’ve just been shitting me this whole time? Do you know how?
How what? How I went back in tiiiime?
Nooooo… You didn’t. We were pranking. You guys call it PUNKE’D I think.
I’m pretty sure we all try really hard to call it absolutely anything else..
But this is not a prank. It’s another glitch in this universe.
Raj you keep trying to get us to believe in some crazy theory.
No. I am asking that you consider yours is a similar but different crazy theory.
No. I stop you.
What? Really? You think you can stop me? It’s my quote and I like to use it when it seems fitting.
I’m older than you. I remember when I first understood the difference between … well let’s just say, the longer you’re here, the more loops you get to learn from.
I’m telling you. I skipped a loop. I looped back.
I can prove it.
Well, of course, we need to see proof of this magical power. How?
I want you to stay silent. Don’t respond, ok? oh wait.. You can say ok that you understand by then wait.
I think I remember this prank Raj. You just ignore it and then in an hour you call back and when I answer you sound electrocuted.
Shhhh the shhhus — Her hands go up to each side with a flair to silence everyone.
Wait…. Wait…. I travelled back in time, and I did it from here. I happen to know the next thing will be my own words from before, continued in the same format that I recognize. Wait. Shhh. “I was amazed this year to disco–
I was amazed this year to discover that … click click I could swap out the new USB without that waiting period the nerds keep telling you could be as bad as somebody stealing your computer.
(He wants to speak more, but she grabs him and runs out the door)
Strangely, without anybody really noticing the incongruity, Ranj pops his head up from the back and yells, we tried to explain having your laptop stolen is way-way worse. How could you not understand that?
We stop for a moment, and Raj cocks his head slightly like a dog does when it’s curious. I open my mouth to say something but realize there is no way to come out of that alive if by chance he thinks I’m relating dogs to — argh.
We might just have changed history!?!? Oh shit.
what? What? You are nuts. You know you’re just tripping right? You didn’t time travel.
but… there was more! Quite a bit more.. I think.
Well… we started talking, and so the NOW went down our stream instead of the one it was destined to —
you know how I feel about destiny?
No I don’t. What? Why would you say I know how you feel about destin–
“You are my density.”
Ha. 15 points setup and risky joke that ends up being a mild irritation if you’re wrong.
However – di you realize I’m talking about time travel. Makes the joke double point payoff.
I believe we could be in… well… I guess we’ll never know, I mean it was only a 15-second difference at most. I stalled your NOW and changed 15 seconds.
Just then a construction beam from the ceiling swings down and slices his head off.
How long was that?
Then it was his time to go.
I have an idea.
Well, do we want those 15 seconds back? We’ve already compensated our schedules and changed our watches. NOW doesn’t stop when you have to tie a lace.
But I have an idea.
Ok.. You might not love this next part.
Ok. Wha do yo–
SHHH. (The look) SHH
The second set of silence, although there was no way for humans to see they were clearly separate.
Ranj has one of those accents that we used to be allowed to laugh at because they can be hilariously funny at times. I get it. I understand that we need to be nicer to each other because apparently, words hurt way more than sticks and stones. It should have been tanks and bombs can break our bones, but you better believe you’re going to be grateful you get to hear those words nagging you ass to get the clothes out of the dryer.
Oh. I guess that’s it.
Well, that was hardly 15 seconds just now.
Yes it was
no it wasn’t
yes it was.
Well this isn’t an argument.
DING – I’m sorry. The five minutes are up.
DING?!?! Where did you get that bell? Why on earth would you have the exact bell I just finished describing is on the shelf in my bedroom in hell… and the subway that runs between the bathroom and my bed isn’t actually as loud as you might expect, well I guess really it probably is loud but everything is so loud it kind of just all hums after a while. It’s the vibration that drives me nuts. They picked a good hell for me.
I thought vibrations was kind of your thing.
This vibration makes the bell fall at random and unpre… at completely random times. I just higher each new time because now I’m awake. I don’t like fireworks, backfires, forward fire, yappy dogs that don’t know the door makes that noise all day.
We are probably alike in how we react to some things in life, and even in how we react to a startle may have similarities, but for me, the noise usually has the additional side effect of wiping my memory clear. I will often stand wherever I was when the noise broke my stream. To be fair, you’ll quickly learn as you read my style, I tend to forget my place a lot these days. Most humorously, in the continuous examples that virtually every single blog post in this collection starts off with an idea not even remotely related to the title.
You might be mistaking the quirkiness of my titles and judging it either fail or a genius with the incorrect data. Yes…
now what? I thought we fixed it. We’re back. It was one paragraph. Two sentences.
so what’s the problem now? Can you finish the ending up? That’s your other speciality right? Did you say you have a mental storage of all the commonly interchangeable sentence ends that are not commital?
Oh God. Do I sound like that? It does sound like me.
Once you explained you add more stones to the yellow brick road so it winds and you have longer to think up the best ending.
That doesn’t sound like me.
It sounds like a student of your teachings making it my own.
Retell the stories.
Together they say; Things that go without saying need to be said more often.
Do you hit the t hard in often?
ok. so we’re good?
Yes. You were being cheeky. You won’t like this my Captain. Shush.
So where are they?
I’m sure they’re up there. They were ages ago,
But I did go back in time! I swear.
Yeah, I know. It happens all the time when you sit in that chair. When Alice walks by, it sparks and wiggles just enough that you don’t notice but you start reading a paragraph previous.
Well, that makes sense.
Well… yeah. MOre sense than going back in time.
It’s not that crazy. Hold on. Be fair. None of us is prepared to learn whatever we learn that is beyond our version of possible. Admit it. Not one of you is going to just accept it. Look how hard it is to get idiots to stop believing your guy can walk on water and – get this – I said he was the son of God and they bought it but.
But then I said.. he IS God.
Wait, what? The son of God is God?
Hold on a second. What is happening here?
oh my god. Why is everything such drama with you? What? Nothing is happening… well, except that beam that chopped off his head right in front of us.
You don’t notice anything?
When did we become Gods?
What do you mean?
Well, a moment ago I was alone… and then you came at me.
I didn’t come at you.
No, but you did come out of nowhere.
Everywhere is out of nowhere.
Wait. Really? We’re Gods?
Oh. Huh. I never really noticed before but everything makes a lot more sense. How long have we been gods? I seriously don’t remember anything before waking up on the couch just now when you dinged.. when you make that memory shatter my joy. It was either just now, and a million years ago. We were not counting the time between till the third one.
Did you say you don’t remember anything before waking up just now?
Yeah. It’ll come back I’m sure. I bet I could ride a ronkle like I did when I was 5.
No. You don’t understand. None of us do. We all just woke up. No memory.
Wait… really? Everyone?
Well, how do you know we’re Gods?
(waves arm, explosion, planet and industrialization) I’ve been doing that for about 20 minutes. It’s great fun, and then Donny has created this galaxy with two suns that doesn’t quite work, so he destroys every galaxy I create. It seemed appropriate for the metaphor.
So maybe this is how Gods start. BAM here you are sucked in. Start making what you need. Maybe God was Adam. Maybe he made Eve out of his rib. Then he says, I will treat you right, but you must remain loyal to me. She says; well of course God. I am loyal to you.
God and his sib-wing companion live for quite some time in paradise. You might confuse the workers in the garden with migrant workers, but the actual truth is, the colour of human’s skin is actually directly related to where on the globe they evolved to best suit the temperatures and conditions of the sun.
So who are you? Who’s THE God? Is it Mom?
Who Who Who… What? No. This is before that. When there were Gods for everything. Leanard Pilksmith is the god of Hershey’s Walnut kisses.
OoOoOOoo… so close.
That’s what I said. I said, Jeff will say you were close. He loves the regular Hershey’s kisses.
Oh. By the way. The shushes were all shushed and accounted for?
How do you know? Did you go look? We’re not supposed to read back you know.
I didn’t. I just know.
You just know. I bet.
I am the God of WordPress.
It all makes sense now.
No. Not at all. God of WordPress doesn’t get sarcasm.
They never invented literary sarcasm. It was always hidden so the dumb people would learn the totally opposite wrong facts.
Do you know that when they first started to give black people the right to vote, West Virginia passed a law all radio and TV ads had to give polling information in a sarcastic tone, using extremely obvious incorrect answers.
What? I don’t believe that for an instant.
You’re right. It was fake news.
Of course, it was.
It was actually Florida.
Well, that I can believe.
End of Part 1
Sunday Feb 18th 2018
[et_pb_section bb_built=”1″][et_pb_row][et_pb_column type=”4_4″][et_pb_text _builder_version=”3.0.101″ background_layout=”light”]
Doesn’t it bother anyone else that an apple with a bit out of it is the symbol for betrayal, evil, and the creation of hell.
Oh yeah, and a computer company.
If you believe that the story is the only prize. The story is all. The storyeller are the winners.
If you believe in the story, then there is little difference between good and bad. If you understand the power of creating your own stories, then any situation no longer has a happy ending or a horrid ending. Both have a good story. To anyone who didn’t share the NOW, the story is what survives… and you get to tell it, not only to anyone who’ll listen, but you get to tell the story to yourself.
Understanding the story gives you a superpower. If all outcomes are equal, and the reward is the gift of something new to share. As a bonus it also gives you the power to ignore this, and just say you understand. hehehe.
Weed high from 2 strong pot brownies that I review as excellent, and like KFC, is good cold too. I found a nice spot on the reation of the first two and my already suspciously joyous day was even coooler.
I started my new routine of therapy. Saying it. ding, these days, the populous is accepting typing as a new quicker way of communicating. Do not go past this site, it will give you much more information on this topic. I like to award myself a pride point here, which I use almost as In “I told you so”, because I figured out messaging was the medium I was a star in.
I used to be the king of 2 minute voice messages with the ladies. When their appearance wa removed and I could not influence my comfort by judging them on attractiveness. The nicest peole I know have all been people who may have scored lower on the insenitive 1 to 10 scale the media created for us to use. The bad way of thinking equivilent to… noooo. don’t do it. don’t say it.
Have we split into two people again? You spoke up to stop me from using Germany in an anaology again. In recent sharing, we learned to hate a man we did not know 100%without question. We know there are a few peole. ding. There is an entire blank of the world that was … that suffered the stories of their elders experiences. The keepers of the stories. The 911 of … stop. Nobody would … you just can’t use examples that will be hurtful just because it might make peole think that our universe is a story.
Although I may not believe my own premis with what they have decided to call faith, It is a story that works, and can actually fit quite well into the universe you have created for yourself, whether you knew it or not.
From the moment each of donors shared their care package and sent a half off to camp, and two ones became one one.
Wait a second. Wakka wakka wakka. I have been writing and imagining on the premis that life begane the moment one became two. nill noticed it was diffent that it a moment ago, and as soon as there were two, they kept splitting. They expanded into the universe like am ballon can scan the entiure room like a roomba robotic vacuum cleaner scans the floor.
A baloon is like a cat, or a child with A.DD. Eventually I will have seen all there is to see in my immediate universe. I will leave the waiting room with a bsic memory of anything I could turn into a story from that room.
I want to tell this story now. Stop me if you’ve heard it.
ding warning sign. Repeating same stories from a grandchild perspectibe is an early sign of scary memory stories. From my current NOW, I see it as a way to remember the good stories and tell them as often as I can.
As an old person, I have colected a storage of my own bible. The word I use for cimmunity stories to share and use as anaologiesin life to help you with decsions and touch choices.
The community stories, shared by one or more speakers was where the community learned the original things that go without saying. The smart people figured out that a shared set of stories was not on;y a great way to create society and a growing world that would work.
The early afopters of American essentially had to play SIM CITY for realzies and taking advice from the Europe you left was frowned apon. Somebody smart one day declaired that Pride was a powerful tool, and if we could control pride with the offset of the concept of sin, and acceptable levels of bad.
We made bad and good too polar, and gave our youth the impression that doing things bad, was somehow actually bad. Like the Santa song goes, we taught peole to be good for godness sake, because you never know who knows your real stories.
The worst thing in my universe is having to give in to a better story, and abandon a perfectly uselful lie. Every time I am caught in an alteration of a truth brought forward as withness in the courtroom drama that is acted out in my mind, Thursdays at 7pm.
ding. Original cool idea. Frogstar.TV The Orange Network doesn’t take sides.
Feel free to sign up and start blogging anonymously with a false persona. Tell the truth using who you imagine being, and strea, your thoughts at the speed of your typing, or the speed of your voice.
As little or a smuch as you like, but the idea behind the Orange network might be this:
I want to create something new, that lets shy peole not have to break the ice. I know there are many like me that can be a really good date, boyfriend husband or whatever given the chance, but those men who need to be asked give up. I imagine frequently many ways that the 70’s bar scene would have paid dearly for.
I believe it is ime for something huge, and I wish I could be found by an investor or a fan. Somebody to bring my dreams to life and make us both more comfortable than I am at the start of 2018.
Ok Google what day of the year isit?
It talks, but starts with the definition of a day and a year. It then tells me howmany days left there are this year, which would have been a valuable number to relate to, and a good goal to set… but becaue I was expecting the day of today in the year, and when I didn’t, I wasn’t ready to save the other answer.
It was the mental equivilant of swigging water out of the bottle in the fridge and discovering it was soda water instead. You may not agree, but something about the taste of soda water, sometimes referred to as tonic water, is perhaps the most vile taste I have ever asualted my mouth with, and I spent two years in my 20s as a raging alcoholic.
Sweps water with bubbles is unexplanably shocking tomy system. It does not mix with my saliva pleasently. That’s probably more extreme than I wanted to conveny. It’s more like expecting water and getting 7up. You spit out a little bit before you catch up to what that NOW twist was and smile.
I Dadapt to the new NOW.
This portion of the Thursday addition of the new NOW nightly
The new now
The Ornage Daily monoalge.
My favourite concept of all time up till NOW is the
I stopped. I wiped it clean. I don’t choose to share my all time favourite because I like to have surprises. Ideas I hold on to in case I ever do find the secret or, more truthefully if ever I allow myself to cheat.
Aha. The secret to some waterfall puzzles in life, os that not everything can be accomplished with nice and good. As you grow, whether nurtchured by the teaching comunity of school, work, churh, scouts, clubs, theatre, knitting or quit clubs… watever.
I am a huge fan of the community that gathers and shares the stories.
We think of the church as the keeper of the original stories, but sadly at some point, probably pretty early on, the idea of the community gathering regularly as a group to exchange the stories of their immediate universe.
I have learned a modern version told in the form of Star Trek so that I would not realize it was a bible story analogy of earth until I was older and saw it again, and again. Star Trek told good bible stories, but before TV, the community was the news.
WHen we learned how that guy in the book handled revenge, or anger, or whenthe girl you like asks you to help her get a nother guy to ask her to the dance.
The community stories were the Friends and Seinfeld of their time.
Stories that subtly instructed us how other people might react to situations, delivered as comedy.
I have an elaborate back story about the history of how I became a funny guy. It was a choice. The remarkable thing I say, when looking back is that I did so without being noticed. I knew I was funny, even without the clieche nagging of peers who smile and tell me I should be a commedian.
I never wanted that enough to try.
I never regretted it, but big moves like that need the other half, and That is definatly a third square chess move. I castle to run away faster than usual.
ding. Steve Memory; I laughed my guts out when best friend understudy StevE Boysen one made a joke that I didn’t react well too. I have no memory of the joke, but it landed flat and Steve turned to me and said; Whatta ya want, every one a winner?
I remember it with a slightly silly voice, but only tio make the character have more depth.
Whatta ya want, every one a winner became an instant motto for me. I adopted the concept into my work in oprgress movement towards being funny.
I wanted to call my show. Punchline News, with Orange Jeff
I just love the idea that I porefer my news filtered by things that will make me smile, and think, but in the end, delivered with a punchline. I am one of the millions of people that get by with the world knowledge of only sources delivered with a punchline.
I am an oncessive lsistener of Howard Stern as often as I can, but alwys cronologically and I have not yet given into the obcession of never missing a moment of the 3 day a week 5 hour broadcast, listened to in order, even if a week or more behind.
I confess that Imay have missed a day or
The light on my keyboard blinked at me, and I looked up. Looked waaay up. The computer was catching up. Apparently I can NOT type at the speed of though for prolonged times.
ha! My Computer has what I have. It needs to stop and take a breath to replay a story of the NOW that just happened.
It can fall behind in a similar way that I do. I hve seen my videos do it, and then spin ahead like an 80s video tape fast forwarding.
If I could ever send a messge back in time, it would be to share my writing and find a new partner eariler. Maybe Norman abd Egan would be interesting in joining Troy and Adam and maybe Daniel is a community project.
Frogstar.TV rentable news segments. If you watch The Daily show they frequently have a segment produced entirely seperate from the daily show news jokes, with a story produced as a documentary, or like a real news segment.
They’re the stories that need to be told more often about life in a fictional country.
Democracy is an invention that allows one nation to have oposing sides that believe in sides with a game like pride and will fight tonot have to admit defeat… in many many aspects of life.
Somebiody smart figured it out that communities work best when the citisens are allowed at least two choices and so they have the impression they have control.
Society needs to have an alternative option toas many vchoices as possible to allow us to have identities and conflict.
Or its by design to allow for idenity, and rebellion and the conflict was a side effect when people started to figure out there were a lot of people they’d meet that preferred to not have to pick a side because that’d involve thinking about matters greater than their universe needs.
A great many peole love to be told what team they’re on. I am one of those people. I will avoid chooing anything until the moment I am standing in a position where I need to choose. Luckily, I am skilled at detecting what the best choice would be in your mind. Your existance allows me to choose with minimal fear or anxiety. The better I know you, the more comfort I can rely on to make choices in your presence that you will be pleased with.
— DIng side truth. I have confe… lets not use the word confess. Nothing I tell as my story should be considered worthy of that word.
I want to tell my mental stream as honest, and we;ve already witnessed some hesitation at times, but in the end, I am enjoying the genre I may have created. It’s be nice if I don’t claim victory 3 years ffrom now when somebody with more than 17 followers on Tumblr has.
I get ythe power of a friend colection although I still think iot’s a billion dollar iea to make the next facebook social media a fan based system.
It might actualy be posible to replace Facebook with a secondary stop in people’s day. Inventing a new way to grab peole’s valuable time and check your site before or after Facebook can lose quickly. If not enough peoplejump on board from the start, a new social media attempt will fail.
We say that it’ll be hard to topple the leaders online and create new leaders but I still understand the Internet was invented after it was released, and I can not comprehend how two generations past 137 years will be an unrecognizable world. Our fictional cabemen are marvelled by escalators and the “hooble” telescope, but real time travelers would be cruished by the revelations of what our world can do.
The world changed each time we got better at writing things down. Stone to chalk to graphite, which may hve started as actual led, which makes sense. The first change in reality that led pencils don’t use led.
I remember a single image of the moment when Bill Cosby revealed that Grampa had been driven crazy so he’d no longer control the money. Led was dropped on his bedroom lightbulb over time and he went mad.
With the last stories of Bill Cosby, he greatness was tarnished with emotion as he was outcast as evil and all his good was suddenly shameful. Bill Cosby, if we believe the storuies we are told, didn’t get to die a legend and positive influence without an asterisk.
Now lets put aside for just a moment any stories of pervertions or sexual action reactions of a diferent time, is it fair to alwys include the news stories of the artist in the art?
Is it acceptable gehavior to seperate the two and appreciate art for how it makes you feel, and if you’re a thinker like me, I enjoy appreciating art for the stories I can imagine went into it;s inspiration, design and creation.
It is one of my favourite things to do, … reframe. I sincerly enjoy interaction with artists, because although I know they often work as their income, but a true artist that I can click with and smile, should enjoy the gift of a story, or more often, the gift of being ble to share their story, and recieve the reward of a smile.
There is value to an artist in the moment you get it. It makes you feel something, and a story appears. The opportunity to share your reation to art is either one of the best parts or the worst parts of being an artist.
I suspect the scale slides. The first good fans are what creates the universe. I have recieved a thumbs up from an opinion I trust. My story has just been given a go ahead and I can move forward telling it live every night in a soon to be interactive nightly report.
The New Daily
In a Tinychat window with 24/7 silkengt webcam and conversation / question requestor.
The second ever Netflix show I binge watched in 3 sittings was Disjointed.
The origin story of this was the woman who introduced it to me. The first share from an almost stranger in the alternate universe of a near perfect lady for me, said hi high one day after a round of voice Cards Against Humanity. One ofmy favourite past times in that universe for talking to gorgious women without fear.
I use it as a stage and I love it.
The last time however 5 pretty women would not talk or react. I begin to self doubt and what I imagine is a hilarious campy game show voice hosting, was actually a clown that doesn’t know they’re laughing at me.
Funny second life story. I returned to the universe after a month away. I got down in the dumps as it were because three fantastic first dates didn’t last a week before they ran.
Its not me its her doesn’t fly after 3 in a row.
I can’t figure out the line between sitcom amusing irritating but always ends with a happy wife.
I want that so bad. I want a wife that I can work into a riutine of a better life.
gif of Dinasaur Baby AGAIN. I even have the SL festure.
I was about ti wrute a new blog post this Tu
Restart. I had the auto correct settings slightly wrong. I’m happy with my choice to change my own normal. I both love and hate change depending on how much notice I have. I can not however livecwithout change.
The greatest stories of our life begin with change. Your universe expands.
Let’s get serious.
I need help, and I honestly think, for the right person with the right smile that changes me and … I lost the word.
No. I delayed long enough for the original thought to flow down my stream and now I have to decide. I want to tell the one I can share in public.
Fuck. That sent shivers. I will not share this on the public blog without edits.
Idea. I will edit all these and for a book forward with propped edits to make it less maniac, maniac at your door, because she’s dancing like she’s never danced before. However the first draft of always be available forces change one as an according option.
I am getting excited that a small trickle of people have seen this blog.
I insist on sticking to the titiliar topic. I only learned that word recently. It scored two points for a word I’ll use, and 2 bonus points because it has to in it and people will smile when they hear it. Some words get points just because they’re fun to say or flash memory to sex.
The old ha ha… He said Uranus humour.
This is an historic moment. I have been impressed with my last cool gadget buy from China back when I was carefree and wanted things. It was a cheap windows 8 tablet that could dual boot in old Android.
I loved it, and promptly upgraded to windows 10 with a 128gb memory card back when it was free. The tablet worked fantastic and never gave me issue, except some internet connection issues that were common among these China cheapie. My first try buy failed in 3 weeks. This was my second try. I think 199. Maybe I lost $220
I love it.
I looked at the Android boot and it was old ugly icons that reminded me of my first 49 China Cherokee tablets. I never went back to Android because I already had my phone and the Nexus 7 in my bed this tablet was iPad size, but thin and light.
So what changed? I opened my blog page in chrome and started to blog. I have actually cool Bluetooth keyboard I could easily buy and resell or just review. It’s special.
I looked down. It had not capitalized my sentence. It had not fixed anything. It highlighted the words it could recognize as wrong but some were just not in the database. I sighed. Oh yeah.
Just then it hits me. I’m not using windows as much as Android. Ding… I think, I can make that ugly Android look modern I get. I downloaded the new Google now launcher, and essentials. This tablet is amazing in bed. I can use the fantastic Gboard keyboard with Google search and bitmoji built right in. It’s way faster than WordPress was on thereunder 10 OS.
I also have the hard keyboard. If I look, I may even mirror my Samsung here.