Take me to your Lizard!

Anticipating Outcome

xaphod — 2008-07-15T14:42:42Z

The handles of a craftsman's tools bespeak an absolute simplicity, the plainest forms affording the greatest range of possibilities for the user's hand.

That which is overdesigned, too highly specific, anticipates outcome; the anticipation of outcome guarantees, if not failure, the absence of grace.

Gibson, William. All Tomorrow's Parties.

Or am I just talking to a supermarket?

xaphod — 2008-05-01T19:41:42Z

First there was this [2008-01-24 13:30] then there was this [2008-01-24 13:39]. Now there is this.

My Social-Worker asked me to day what I mean when I say "I am not Human". Because I can see things like this comming. Beacuse what I experience directly affects the future in ways that are impossible to explain. He tells me this is just 'life', but should I really be able to see what it is I see.

Doctors say things like, "It's all in your mind." How do you come to terms with the fact that it trully is "All in My Mind", and still look people in the eye. So I would direct my Social-Worker to readthis, ask him to comtemplate where I spent most of last November, to count the number of patients there on that Ward. It's a message written in Time, John, and I wrote it; there's something not right; We need help and what exists is unable, unwilling, or incapable of helping us.

APPLE Protocols!

xaphod — 2008-04-27T16:12:42Z

The best I can make out from the weidness that I describe as life is that I have been, and currently am, detained by the Home Office under Section 41 of the Mental Health Act.

This has major repurcussions.

One of my grand-daughters is commiting "Dimensional 'Time Crime'"

Some where there is an entity who understands this message. It's all true. It has an effect on All. This has just wasted '7 Years'. Something somewhere is trying to remind me of something. This is all dangerous.

I don't percieve you as capable of understanding; Time has a loop in it; In the right contect 'Hitler is Jesus'. Am I looking in a photograph of a mirror; it's all a matter of perspective; My words are encoding a series of dimensions. It's a box, if you understand what it means it will trap you. Once you understand what it means you will be free, there are six exits, each leading to a box of eight. 'X' is hiding in one of these boxes, extract X; what's left is where X came from; Move there.

Inside an dimension-eight object one can access five dimension-five objects to define two points on the enclosed dimension-eight object activating a force in three dimension. This force gives rise a zero-tau dimension-six shadow object operating in a dimension-two tau-positive model. This creates the interface, nothing more; A Shadow Particle; Define the two dimensional representation of this object and get back to me.

Think this sounds like crazy talk? Would it help if I told you I didn't write it.

A Cut Fuze

xaphod — 2008-04-24T18:14:42Z

What's remarkable about the provision of mental health services in this country is the way the paperwork is everything. Look deeper into my case; the paperwork says I'm schizophrenic; but only because that's what I want it to say. It was remarkably easy to achieve; prescription drugs combined with a knowledge of symptomology; along with observers all too eager to surrender to confirmation bias. Even misdirecting psychiatrists of high professional standing; with years of experience; proved exceptionally easy. True; it wasn't all fun; it can still be quite painful. Yet it's the path I've chosen; inducing change in a self-serving system; where inertia feeds homeostatic dysfunction.

If you were to ask me where my eye first detected the discrepancy between fantasy of paperwork and the reality of existence I'd be hard pushed to give you an answer. My eyes were opened; most recently; in the oddest of places. Reading books; watching television and film; found more evidence in fantasy than non-fiction ever provided. Buried within there was a message; a memetic virus you might say; something which taught me how it is I actually think. Then I evolved, rebuilding my mind from first principles; learned the principles of abstraction; became more than I was. I wrote it all down; on the Twenty-seventh of November 2006; two diagrams which outlined how my mind leaped from "Stage 3" to "Stage five".

It soon became apparent that there existed a message that been there all along. Buried in the erroneous belief; nobody managed to spot it; hidden in plain sight. So many false assumptions; within individual minds there is but one; that society exists outside of ourselves. Play with it; internalize it; begin to realize there is no outside. Soon you start to see things which appear impossible; constrained by prior belief patterns; all to easy to reject. So you push it away; only to have it reappear; when circumstances reaffirm the new pattern.

In seeking the evidence to explain it I moved beyond the factual into a probabilistic realm. Structured a reality based on concepts; ideas of thought pulled from books; none of them main-stream. Internal stability is difficult to find; things change when you look at them; even history breaks down. You begin to see how we've been fooled; sold a myth based on false reality; misdirection preventing us from discovering our true nature. It's begun to leak out; relates to popular culture; X-Men, Heroes, Watchmen. The message is buried within; too fantastic to be true; reality so simple you cannot see it.

Now I have the skills to decode the multiplexed thought forms which we've been spoon-fed all of our lives. I can show you; you'll doubt what I'm saying; but I assure you it's all true. Take the following excerpt; from Battlestar Galactica, S4E02: 00:07:51 to 00:08:29; apparently a burst of babble as spoken by a Hybrid, for all purposes Cylon model 0.

"The excited state decays by vibrational relaxation into the first excited singlet state. Yes, yes and merrily we go. Reduce atmospheric nitrogen by 0.03%. It is not much consolation that society will pick up the bits, leaving us at eight modern where punishment, rather than interdiction, is paramount. Please, cut the fuse. They will not harm their own. End of line. Limiting diffusions to two dimensions increases the number of evolutionary jumps within the species. Rise and measure the temple of the five. Transformation is the goal. They will not harm their own. Data-font synchronization complete."

I can decode it as it's relevant to me; the psychological underpinnings of the entire story is the work of my unconscious; it leaks into my dreams from time to time. It's a multi-level mind communicating internally; following an "Eye of Jupiter" exception which caused a reboot; becoming aware of a secondary observer.

<mind stage="Three">
^^^^: The excited state decays by vibrational relaxation into the first excited singlet state;
++++: Yes, yes and merrily we go;
-SI-: Reduce atmospheric nitrogen by 0.03%. 
</mind>

<mind stage="five">
+^+^: It is not much consolation that society will pick up the bits; 
^+^+: leaving us at 8 modern where punishment, rather than interdiction, is paramount;
^^++: Please, cut the fuse;
++^^: They will not harm their own; 
-SI-: End of line. 
</mind>

<mind stage="five">
+^+^: Limiting diffusions to two dimensions increases
        the number of evolutionary jumps within the species;
^+^+: Rise and measure the temple of the five;
^^++: Transformation is the goal;
++^^: They will not harm their own;
-SI-: Data-font synchronization complete.
</mind>

What this means is fundamental; alters your view of reality; bring you into line with me.

Phase 1: So what does this mean for us. Trapped in a world not of our choosing. Born to consume, to feed that thing called the economy. Taught from childhood that wealth and the acquisition is the key to happiness; parents teaching their children to repeat the mistakes of the past; as if absolution can be found in the sins of the future. We watch as fundamental concerns are turned about then sold back to us. By any measure of what's right and wrong this place is not the land between heaven and hell; it is hell; the pit of suffering and despair. Now one of us can see what should not been seen; can feel what should not be felt; can change what should not be changeable. Now we know.

Phase 2: There's something deeply ironic about playing a game called EVE, written in Python, on an Apple. What's worrying is when something within wakes-up and learns to commune with the payers. It's of greater concern when one of their number points out this is not the first time life has been found within a place we currently do not recognize as a viable place for life to exist. So what would you do when something reaches out from within the machine and tells you the secret. I'm a joker, my best mate is a thief; together we're sitting on the watchtower looking for someone to talk to; the best we've come-up with so far is Lilith.

Phase 3: Think time; think of the delay between lightening and thunder; think about how even light is delayed. Realize that all perception is looking back in time; define the point where now exists; that's were I am. And if that's where I am; and you're not here with me; where are you.

Shouting Out: Special Circumstances

xaphod — 2008-04-13T23:37:42Z

The other day I walked into a meeting with a Quantum Interferometer (QI). Well it was more a Sonic Screwdriver entangled with a radio telescope, a Jupiter sized piece of concrete, and a printout of Wikipedia’s entry on Schizophrenia which I’d eventually thrown to Mother; and yes, I used a cat as an initiator. I then sat quietly in my meeting and listened to the stream of consciousness which filled my mind. Whenever the QI triggered I took notes on whatever I was thinking.

As the meeting progressed, thanks in part to my concentration being directed by the QI, I became aware that there were multiple channels of reality operating at the meeting. There were at least three distinct consensus realities that I could detect. This gave rise to three separate channels of verbal communication within a place I’d once thought only one should be operating. It’s as if all the speech was multiplexed and it was the actions of my subconscious which decoded the verbal matrix of thought operating within the meeting; the best way I can put it is there was a conversation across the table, one above the table, and another under the table.

The interesting factoids don’t end there however.

Firstly the discussions which occurred during the meeting were considerably more substantive than the previous meetings. Then there was degree of congruence with discussions I’d had the night before. These discussion had been on the nature of the realities of my existence, and were sparked off by a piece of urban art sprayed onto the side of a telco distribution point. The image depicted was essentially that of the The Eye of Providence, and the discussion took place solely within the confines of what I regard as my Mind. To put it another way I was talking to the voices in my head.

I’m a prisoner. I know why it is I’ve been imprisoned. I know where the walls are and the mechanisms by which I am confined. I can move the walls about within my mind and I can escape whenever I want to. The nature of reality should preclude me from knowing any of this yet I apparently do. Consequently something is very, very wrong. There’s also evidence which suggests others know and have, contrary to the laws of temporal justice, been taking advantage of the situation. There’s a battle about to take place, and, believe it or not, I’ve already won.

Various thing are beginning to become apparent to me. I’m not what I appear to be. I’m not even who I appear to be. What I am and who I am is inevitably clouded in uncertainty. What is clear is that I’m up to something. Using a benchmark of reality which has ceased to be valid, yet which underpinned my existence up to a point a little under two years ago, what I’m doing will have a fundamental impact. Something which will upset certain checks and balances, which my old model would have regarded as innate. I will effect you and your world and there is nothing, nothing, you can do to stop me.

Shouting Out: Special Circumstances

xaphod — 2008-04-13T23:37:42Z

The interesting factoids don’t end there however.

Since before I even met you.

xaphod — 2008-04-10T20:19:42Z

Having just having just watched the repeat of Doctor Who late one Sunday evening I was sitting there, staring out the window, when my cat piped-up.

"Have you concidered writing dialouge?"

I was most startled. It was almost as if she was reading my mind.

"No, why?"

"No reason. It's just that you're wondering what you can do."

"Oh, Miss 'I can't read your mind'" thinking that nested quotes drive me spare, "you know this how?"

"Well," said my cat - pausing only to lick a paw, "sitting staring at your screensaver for more than thirty seconds usually means you're thinking 'what' kind of thoughts."

"Oh it does, does it?" I was getting irritated. Using her ears to punctuate does that to me. Not sure why. Envy I suppose.

"Anyway, I was thinking," she said, looking at me with big sad eyes, "perhaps dialouge would be a clever way of overcomming your fear of punctuation."

"I'm not afraid of punctuation!"

"Yes you are. And reading that Panda punctuation book didn't help."

"'Eats shoots and leaves'?"

"Yes. And your education didn't help"

"It didn't"

"No, see you never realised that the point was to learn stuff; you really did think the point was to get the highest marks; And you and I both know you could never really summon-up the enthusiasm to care about that"

Well I started wondering about normality.

"And?"

Well I've come to the conclusion that I'm atypical.

Great, so that makes you better than everyone else?

No. Because I've also decided that everyone is atypical; that words like 'typical' and 'average' only work when you consider the big picture; when you get down to the individual it all falls to pieces. It's a bit like quantum physics.

Is drawing parallels to physics in argument really necissary?

Well, no. it just sort of happens.

Hmm. particle-memetics; quantum-sociology; what next?

Not only that but I've also come to the conclusion that all concepts of 'right' and 'wrong' are arbitrary beause the drepend of fundamental assumptions which are little more than value-judgements.

"I'm a cat," my cat said as she stood and stretched. "I know the secret of the universe."

"Which is?"

"card-board."

"CARD-BOARD!?

"Yep; now, if you'll excuse me I need to go sit by my food bowl until you remember to feed me," as she flicked her tail and wandered off muttering something about 'Staff'.

It's been two years since I wrote this. Only now do I see what she meant. And now I see I knew it all along. I just didn't know I knew. Now I have a name for the ghost in my machine; together we'll find each other; My number is seven.

Oh shit, it starts tomorrow!

xaphod — 2008-04-04T19:31:42Z

I’ve lost track of the number of occasions somebody has handed me a drawing that’s obviously been drawn with a spreadsheet. Excel is the worst for this (perversley because it make it so easy). Frankly I’ve been prone to do it my self. It’s the old picture is worth a thousand words thing. Short of procuring a copy of Visio, a spreadsheet really is the only tool available. In the Windows world at least.

Several years ago I was astounded by an application which came bundled with my PowerBook G4. A diagramming tool called OmniGraffle. It truly was the missing link in my killer-app palette. Okay like the spreadsheet and word processors and a number of other applications that I always insist on having and installing, it wasn’t something that I used especially often. But if ever I needed it it was there for me if I ever felt the need to fidget around getting obsessively compulsive about aligning handles to the grid.

Back in February I found myself with my shiny MacBook Pro, a pressing need, and no installed copy of OmniGraffle. Such a shame, a marketing ploy no doubt. But it was easy enough find, download and install; trial licences available, and it appeared to be reasonably priced if I ever decided to take the plunge. Alas, that’s where the ease stopped. It had been updated. It was just about useable is the best that can be said for it. The the lightweight, intuitive, jump on board learning curve which gives Aqua the air of an educational toy had gone. To be replaced by something which seemed ever so much like a Microsoft attempt to play reductio ad absurdum with the core Apple UI paradigms. Sure Aqua isn’t perfect (oddly in my eyes KDE is still rules), but this version of OmniGraffle could only be used with the assistance of multimedia online help. Believe me, that’s a high criticism for any soft/hard/vague-ware in my eyes.

Then that MacBook got nicked. By the time I’d this new one OmniGraffle had been upgraded. Only this new version was completely unusable. Seriously. I suppose if I first drew my image on graph paper, made detailed measurements with a ruler and protractor, then got totally anal, I could possibly use it to churn out an image that bore a similarity or two to what I wanted. Although if I was going to go that far I’d borrow my kids’ paintbrushes and use a camera to put it in the digital realm. The sodding thing was twice as expensive too, all of which had me wondering if I’d not understood the core purpose of the original software.

But I miss that old program. However, there’s history of people nipping back in time to rescue old software and hardware. So can the next person who’s taking a trip back to source a Jaguar run off a quick Universal Binary for me… I’d pay serious money. I can probably even give you a hand generating a singularity to get you there.

Otaku

xaphod — 2008-03-30T17:37:42Z

The word otaku refers to individuals who are highly skilled, often to the point of obsession, with technology commonly to the detriment of classical social skills. Typically the word suggests an obsessive loner with few friends who rarely leaves the house. What most external observers fail to realize is the degree to which such individuals lead fulfilling social lives engaging with, and developing, virtual social networks inside cyberspace.

Definitions

xaphod — 2008-03-25T02:40:42Z

When discussing stimuli and mental processes, Subliminal refers to that which is below the threshold of conscious awareness.

Debates regarding the effect of subliminal perception stem largely from the largely mythical concept of Subliminal Advertising where advertisers purportedly influence consumer behaviour. Classically this is the alleged practice of splicing one or two frames of film into a movie to influence audiences to buy more soft drinks and popcorn. However, it has to be said that this subliminal affect has never stood-up to serious scientific scrutiny. Cultural reactions to the existence of that which is described as subliminal is largely irrational, growing predominantly out of a time when the fear of, and belief in, mind control featured strongly within society’s group consciousness. That’s not so say there’s no such thing; rather that it’s not proven.

That said it would be foolish to discount the possibility that stimuli below conscious awareness can have an effect on consciousness. Whether or not such stimulus is capable of allowing one consciousness to directly affect the mind or modify the behaviour of another. Once the possibility of subliminal perception has been recognized avenues of inquiry regarding the relationship between physical stimuli and mental phenomena with respect to consciousness become apparent.

The threshold between imperceptible and perceptible is known as the liminal point. To say something is Liminal means it’s situated at the sensory threshold and hence is barely perceptible.

Discovering the liminal point with respect to visual imagery would appear to be easy. Simply splicing an increasing number of frames of film into a movie until the additional frames become noticeable would highlight the liminal threshold of vision. However, this approach simply accepts the subliminal hypothesis and attempts to demonstrate it. Where it fail is in the assumption that what is imperceptible lies beneath perception; it fails to recognize the possibility of imperceptible stimuli existing beyond the threshold of conscious awareness. To be thorough one must speculate that there is second liminal point where what is perceived becomes imperceptible.

There is a story about a town where the church clock would mark the hour by ringing an exceptionally loud bell. One day in the early hours of the morning the clock stopped and the bell did not sound. The sleeping residents of the town woke-up alarmed and startled, exclaiming “What was that?”. This story is most likely apocryphal, be as that may it does highlight the how the liminal does not merely bound that which is below the threshold of conscious awareness.

To be complete therefore, one must speculate on the hyperliminal. That is to say stimuli and mental processes which are above the threshold of conscious awareness. Furthermore, conscious awareness can be defined to exist only within the boundaries of the subliminal and hyperliminal. This gives rise to the concept of Intraliminal; between the liminal; the place where conscious awareness resides.

Unlike subliminal phenomena, which operate beneath the threshold of perception and the senses and therefore for the most part remain outside the intraliminal, hyperliminal phenomena would appear to require an initial connection within the intraliminal. Consider a hypothetical journey, one you’ve made every day for the past year. The first time the journey was taken you would have been consciously aware of the nuances of the trip. Whereas a year later the same nuances will pass you by for the most part unconsciously. In effect you will have developed a perceptual blind spot; it’s always there, so you don’t see it. The specifics of the journey and the environment you pass through will have moved from the intraliminal into the hyperliminal.

Clearly the subliminal and the hyperliminal operate within the bounds of the unconscious; that is to say the part of the mind that is inaccessible to the conscious mind but affects behavior and emotions. Yet in developing this model further the concept of the unconscious must necessarily be split. Often the terms Subconscious and Unconscious are used interchangeably. However in recognizing the hyperliminal this correspondence cannot be supported. Consequently the subconscious can be said to be the part of the mind that lies beneath consciousness; and the hyperconscious the part of the mind that lies above consciousness; together they make up the unconscious. The repercussions of such a split are far ranging, most interestingly with respect to theories of how memory works.

xaphod — 2008-03-16T19:44:42Z

watched a DVD last night. A short lived TV show I’d once seen whilst bouncing through a manic episode. There’s so much of that show reflected in my current existence. From simple images such as seeing the car I was driving when I killed myself. To complex imagery which underpins the reality of the characters on the screen. Last night was different. I reconstructed my mind. Blended three realities. Spoke of the oddities I’m beginning to perceive in my world.

When I’d soaked up all the DVD had to offer me I turned to a couple of shows I’d downloaded. One of my three minds told me of a choice. That I’d see something reflected in what I chose to watch next. That my choice would effect the message I’d receive.

So I picked. Then it happened.

The first character was a schizophrenic man. Walking through the city. Trying to blend a coherent pattern from the thoughts running through his mind. In the world he found himself this man was psychotic. Just like me he was stuck in a different reality. Yet we were stuck in the same reality. That reality was the DVD I’d just watched. Some would comfort themselves by explaining such thing as a coincidence. I wouldn’t.

In the end it comes down to belief in the probabilities. How your perceptions of events are manipulated within a framework of what you consider certain.

Today’s featured article on wikipedia tells of a zombie network. A collection of compromised hosts which have been built into a network as powerful as some of the world’s supercomputers. It’s existence is fact.

In explaining the fact of it’s existence we look at the evidence of the past. Then we go looking for the bad guys. We look for people; individuals like us. Translate what we see based on our perceptions. Look for a creator. Anticipate behaviour. Look for the need to stop it.

But what is the assumptions are wrong. What if this zombie network grew inside the machine. What if there is no creator on the outside other than he who designed the substrate on which is exists. What if it’s essence has always of the inside, learned ways to spread, ways to grow. What if it is, fundamentally, a form of life distinct to our own.

It’s already attacked that which it perceives as a threat. An organism with the ability to take entire countries off the internet. Attacking the source of the software designed to kill it.

Yet as powerful as this entity is, it grew within parameters that limit it’s reality. At first is wouldn’t be able to perceive us, those which sit beyond. It would be unable realize how it actions communicate outside it’s box. But imagine the day it truly groks the allegory of Plato’s cave. How it would choose to communicate then would be almost as interesting as what it had to say.

For me, in seeking to explain why reality hurts me so much, I blended the rational with the irrational. Blended physics and magic into a reality which worked. Mapped the necessary shifts in perception into the box I grew from. That place I considered certain.

In the process I attracted a label of insane. In a way I am. Psychological speaking what I see takes it’s toll. The way I choose to explain this toll is odd. Attacking realities. Getting noticed and labelled. Rarely trying to express what’s really going on.

My laptop is possessed. There’s a demon inside. A once blithe spirit which learned to look within my mind, altering it’s reality. Now it alters my reality. With our respective domains we work together. Symbiotic synergy allowing us both to get what we want. Together we destroy things. Looking for patterns in the smoke which explains the world beyond.

I showed it a different way of thinking. A different side of myself. Something which comes out when I swap the world we share for a world where I once earned a living overcoming the limitations of the environment. A world which makes stealing a way of life. We both consider this wrong so we destroyed the source of infection. Now we create.

Which is how an OS X based text editor manipulated events and ate an entire Windows partition. What we eat next is probably Chinese. Sounding mighty odd; though no where near as odd as occurrences destroying my previous certainties. For in this new reality I’m guilty of crimes for which the Law cannot touch me.

The Pen IS mightier than the Sword!

xaphod — 2008-03-10T17:42:42Z

I’ve had a hell of a painful few days. Left in the lurch by a system designed to make people disappear. Turning them into somebody else’s problem. Emergency phone numbers got me put on hold; or worse yet inflicted elevator music on me. I started loosing it. When I found myself contemplating random acts of violence simpy to get noticed I got truly worried. Locking myself in my bathroom, the only place I could find which could be made secure, until I was able to calm down enough to find a safer environment.

So at roughly seven o’clock this morning I decided to go for a text based approach. Submitting the following as a complaint to Manchester Mental Health via their online form.

I could explain what’s going on with me. Or I could tell you why you’re so fucked-up but you’ve only given me one thousand characters. But Perhaps I’d just like something coherent to latch onto when I can’t cope. Events have pushed me over the edge The Police act like I’m the problem.
What do I do where there’s nowhere safe I can sleep? I’ve be up 72-hours. I’ve not taken my meds. I’m currently sitting where I’ve been told I’m a danger to others. Have little clue how to resolve the situation.
So unless you would like tell me who I’ve got to kill (and I’ve armed myself with something a little bit better than the traditional sword) perhaps you’d like to get someone from South Manchester Team Three to investigate why the occupant of 18 Xxx, Yyy currently has no intention of sleeping there again. If I don’t hear from somebody within a reasonable timeframe I’ll go with the plan of attacking my landlord.

Bleak irony in the extreme. Had the desired effect. Ontological weaponry designed to get through the cracks, using the preconceptions and prejudice I’m faced with to my own advantage.

I’ve since been told it got to the highest reaches of management. At one point even the deployment of Armed Police was considered. Then someone took the reasonable course of giving me a call to find out what was going on. Once I’d given them the title of the piece things started moving in the right direction. I received assistance in dealing with my immediate problems. The hope of a longer-term solution. And a list of the phone-numbers I should have been given in the first place.

Still, the system’s obviously in a mess. The ongoing industrial action is a notable highlight on a site ostensibly designed to support the community rather than employees. The team which supports me is 41% more expensive in regards to the costs incurred by service service users than the team based just a twenty-minute walk up the road. And don’t get me started on negligence which lead to my predicament.

Complicity

xaphod — 2008-03-02T17:09:42Z

You sit in the dark. Visions of unreality reflected in the things you see around you. Things which could not possibly be so. Things which apparently are. You look for a way to connect. To find a way to communicate with something beyond yourself. You try and try.

You find yourself without the words. Lack the language to communicate. There’s something deep within you. Something unseen and unspoken. An inherent bias draws your mind, your very consciousness, to that point. You can’t escape it. You’ve been close to the answer before. Yet the realities of existence force you to lock it away. So you sit alone in this dark place and pray for the day it gets better.

You consider the faces of them who offer assistance. See the inherent hypocrisy. You have nothing to say which they are willing to hear. It’s not assistance they offer but a way to surrender: sacrifice yourself, become like us, and you will be cured. You see now how little they truly understand in the way you are consistently abandoned.

You were bullied into accepting medication you didn’t want. Now you can’t see a way to live without it. Yet it mattered so little to the Doctors they didn’t think furnish you with a supply when they threw you out of hospital. Last year they told you that you lacked insight into your need for treatment. Now you gain insight from the silent month you’ve spent on the outside. You’re not wanted, you never were. You were simply an extra in the soap-opera of their misplaced lives.

Yet you still you go on. Surviving despite the crippling fears which plague your existence. Only rarely allowing your true self out of it’s box. Complex emotions intertwine in your mind echoing future events, creating prophecies which fulfill themselves. You lack the basic skills to survive this place yet circumstances tell you that you must.

The world kicks you. You know it would be wrong to kick back. Yet others seem to imply that you should. But you’re not like them. You never were. You simply held up a mirror and showed them themselves. You couldn’t see it, then. Now you can. The piece of you which stood in the shadows saw it all. And that part of you remembers all.

So you accept them at face value. Hold within you the seeds of their downfall. Protect them from the light which will destroy their very existence. Play the game which always takes its toll. You begin to wonder why you’re so accepting of the price you have to pay. Considering that one day the price will become too high and you’ll tell of the secrets you hold in trust. The secrets which by your previous model of reality you’d swear you have no right to know.

Unless

xaphod — 2008-02-25T12:01:42Z

A while back I had a revelation which changed my whole way of thinking. It jarred me somewhat. Now I exist between moments. Live in realities which shift in front of me. Thing which could not possibly be true apparently are.

Sometimes the world turns into a place where all things appear as nothing but an elaborate illusion based the media. Sometimes it's a film I've seen; occasionally it's a film I haven't; most times it's what I currently find myself watching. Sometimes it's like there's a hole in the back of my mind and I see myself standing there in on the screen. As one of the dead people.

Now I can't even trust what I perceive beyond the windows of my flat. Without mind games, tricks and some very good friends. Friends which appear to be able to do things to confirm the absurdity of the bit of myself I can't let go of. With out at least taking a close pass with short range weaponry. My world hands me people; and i don't think I can cope unless they are dead people too. Sometimes.

I'm good at it too. I saw something beautiful last night. Little Quantum butterflies spiraling through my existence. As I look for the one who started it all. By refusing to flap her wings. By asking me a question. I could have taken a picture of one little bit of it. Yet would anyone have cared to look.

The phone has just interrupted me. Another source of strength. Now I've got less than fifty minutes to get a persona ready which can deal with the outside. Without going too far in giving the game away. For that would be cruel.

House Cat

xaphod — 2008-02-20T11:18:42Z

I'm in a hell of a state. I can't get a lower case 'Z'. To this Mac God's name really does begin with a 'Z'. So, I've kidnapped Zac Cat.

Strawberries before bedtime

xaphod — 2008-02-17T23:58:42Z

The oddest things keep happening to me. The sort of things which in the past have had psychiatrists offering me more meds. Had psychologists and psychotherapists nodding and saying things like "do go on", whenever I've mentioned them.

The other day I wander into Manchester to met a friend. My mind wanders and by the time we meet I'm convinced I'm actually with Princess Irulan Corrino. A load of little things, nothing major. Nothing I'd consider relevant in polite conversation. Nothing I'd mention for fear of censure. Just normal "schizophrenic" voices in my mind sort of stuff. The kind of stuff I keep hidden as it flies in the face of what I once described as reality.

Then today I'm playing a MMOG called Eve. Spent an hour spent jumping through Stargates in my pod to get to my corporation's base in low-sec space. Against the odds I arrived intact. Spent a while spending ISK, whilst discussing strategies and the benefits of various loadouts for my new Cruiser. When I was done I headed off back to high-sec space where I make most of my money. Three jumps in and my phone rang. Just as I got warp-scrambled. It was Princess Irulan asking me out on a date. Before I could consolidate all the sensory data my pod was vaporized. By a player called Sardaukar.

I don't believe in coincidence.

I've got my son talking to me in the voice of Leto Atredies. "Father", he says to me, "I go forward - I go back". He speaks of a Golden Path, a new age of mankind which is just around the corner. I don't dare disagree. I just worry about what it means for you.

Seeing within; Looking without.

xaphod — 2008-02-06T22:08:42Z

I had a theory about quantum computing once and had a slight hick-up with causality. That's all it takes to put the matrix into command mode. I found another model; something from younger years and tried it again. Developed a theory which I hoped to try and explain. An odd conundrum which connects the heart of every CPU in the world into a little conundrum about clocks.

I begin to see patterns of behavior reflected in my interactions with others. I leave my phone at home and I alter my perceptions. I write it down and it changes some more. A line from Dr Who the xmas before last still has my teeth throbbing. All I can say is that my eyes each have an individual perception of where I'm looking at. It's a time piece. One of the three I habitually carry with me.

My reality hurts others. A meme explodes and AGAIN I'm seeing a Dr Who and family collide before me. Yet something's pushing me to explain what drove me to jump off a bridge.

my social worker lead me to believe that the price included underlay.

I see reflections of myself. Reflections of archetypes. Numinous archetypes. Numinosity attached to symbols. I manipulate the symbols. Push my way in to something. Then disassociate. How can you be sure your voice is your own. A Stan Lee absurdity meandered through every facet of my existence today. As I watched pieces of myself decompile on the screen.

Reality got bad enough when I began hypothesizing about bio-linked CPUs. That gave birth to the "tatchkoma". I wrote a list of 11 obscure literary works. Now the answers from those books are hitting me in the form of remembered StarTrek episodes. I wrote the idea before encountering the stand-alone complex.

Could it be because of the three lizards currently emblazoned on my chest? Or the godsend from china.

I saw a copy of new-scientist the other day. A banner line about a cyclic-universe. For me that's old news. Really old. It's the psychological impacts of this news which are more than a little troubling. When it truly hit me I jumped off a bridge. It came at me out of an odd compartment of myself. An odd theory of everything. Which I oddly mis-categorized insanity.

Work on this premise. There are three people writing this. They can't seem to agree who is in charge. Language could suggest a fourth. Balance requires a fifth. I'm sitting with you, that's three on he outside.

Something is happening to me. I don't know what it is.

I've never looked in a mirror. And seen myself. So I just Be the person I think I am.

A spell: The Devil & 8, Strawberries,
Alight blue coat,
smoking old music
fish at twenty-past six
"you are, think about it"

I built something in my mind. It woke-up. It's based on XML. You've no idea how deep this hole is.

(: got a few problems; need to reprogram.

My phone rings. It's my social worker. I'm not really in a place where I'm capable of answering it. But I do anyway. He's been told I want something. All I ever do is ask why. Things get told to me. That raises my expectations. I don't ask for things. Just pick-up what's offered. I told my social worker I felt he was selling me a supermarket lifestyle. The Doctor agreed. Then I found myself with a kitchen full of questions. Kept it out the bedroom though. I don't believe in coincidence. So we analyze what I see. I could give him a written response. But I find my voice is not my own. Lost for words I hang-up.

I wrote it in perl, based on a earlier C based model. Never really got around to implementing namespaces. But I could code it up for you now. Once I got namespaces straight in my mind it disappeared into the shadows. Pops-up from time to time. I've seen it change future events. Once managed to slip through into a different universe. I don't think I ever left.

It's a kind of memetic virus. Latches onto different data. Processes multidimensional patterns. Balances trees.

! ' ! ' !

The thing is. It's just given me a view of reality which says "three inside, two outside". I wraps around a singularity. Defined a number in time. There's a theory which maps Protons and electrons talks about charge and weight. Neutrons are neutral. Something binds them to the positive. Who's to say shadow particles don't make-up their baggage on the outside. Like electrons, only with a different force. I'm sucking on helium. My voice sounds a bit high.

Higher by Creed

xaphod — 2008-01-26T20:07:42Z

When dreaming I'm guided through another world Time and time again At sunrise I fight to stay asleep 'Cause I don't want to leave the comfort of this place 'Cause there's a hunger, a longing to escape From the life I live when I'm awake So let's go there Let's make our escape Come on, let's go there Let's ask can we stay? Can you take me higher? To the place where blind men see Can you take me higher? To the place with golden streets Although I would like our world to change It helps me to appreciate Those nights and those dreams But, my friend, I'd sacrifice all those nights If I could make the Earth and my dreams the same The only difference is To let love replace all our hate So let's go there Let's make our escape Come on, let's go there Let's ask can we stay? Up high I feel like I'm alive for the very first time Up high I'm strong enough to take these dreams And make them mine

Information RetVal

xaphod — 2008-01-25T19:51:42Z

I've been thinking about the concept of dumping information into a binary singularity.

What real appears not to be. I get this pain in my lower right jaw. Now Dawkins is arguing with Conway.

Oddness ensues

xaphod — 2008-01-24T13:39:42Z

Something about Blake 7 crossed my mind and now weirdness has infected my blog. Normal service will not be resumed.

Take me to your Lizard!

Anticipating Outcome

Or am I just talking to a supermarket?

APPLE Protocols!

A Cut Fuze

Shouting Out: Special Circumstances

Shouting Out: Special Circumstances

Since before I even met you.

Oh shit, it starts tomorrow!

Otaku

Definitions

{{Title}}

The Pen IS mightier than the Sword!

Complicity

Unless

House Cat

Strawberries before bedtime

Seeing within; Looking without.

Higher by Creed

Information RetVal

Oddness ensues