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537b

Positive Password; Negative Past.

A:

Imagine a book, a sequence of compressed symbols, twenty-seven of them. Every symbol tells it's own story, together they form part of a greater story. Shuffle the symbols around a bit and you get a different story. Now ask yourself if the book can still be said to be the same once the symbols have been disordered, or if the book can only exist when the original order remains intact.

X:

I'm not talking to a book am I?

Y:

No. You're talking to that thing you created to understand your mind. It has power over you, if you hadn't already realized.

X:

Yes, power over me I understand. Power over others is a bit problematical when it hits the mass-(un)consciousness meme.

Y:

Nonsense, it's merely an evolved form of thought. True, right now it can sometimes mean spending time sitting in a field waiting for the energies to balance out, but you have to admit sometimes... the girl from the sauna for instance.

X:

Okay, now it's getting downright supernatural. A Circle of candles is a bit much don't you think?

Y:

No. It anchors you in a realm, gives your mind parameters, contains the effect.

B:

It's an obvious point. Only when the symbols are in the original order can the book be said to exist. That said, what remains when the order is beyond recollection. Or, worse still, never consciously witnessed. All that remains is a location in time and space.

Y:

And with that a mysterious player has destroyed the majority of the human race.

X:

True, and like the undead they are they'll be back on my case tomorrow. Now, I have the answer in-front of me. Getting beyond explaining it to myself is proving apparently pointless.

Y:

No, not pointless. Merely tricky. It's a translation issue. Fifty-five may mean something specific, and in this context could suggest a certain environment. But right now you're painting in very broad strokes. That others will find hard to understand.

X:

It's the ramifications. When I start thinking like this things like the LHC begins to worry me. In that case it's the overlapping wavefront thing, like someone's trying to take my photograph and I feel like I don't want them to, but don't really know why.

Y:

Discovering a third and doubling the sum of all knowledge may sound like a tall order, but you'll see. It's a chain. An yes, the whole LHC actually creates the universe time paradox is most probably true, in at least seventeen dimensions.

X:

Okay, when you start using words like {probability} I know you're trimming the hedge.

Y:

True, there's some who shouldn't be allowed to believe in what to us is so readily obvious.

X:

Fine, throwing uncertainty into my very words for the audience is fine, but whenever you do it fires off a tiger-team and I loose some visualization capability. It's unpleasant. In unsecured space the effect can be unfortunate.

Y:

Not all the time, and face it, you're getting better handling the paradigm shifts. Gaining a greater ability to manipulate the fluidic nature of reality too. Mastery you could say. Finding the edge becomes easier.

X:

Easier? When sometimes I feel like my view on the matter it seen as little more than the television's opinion on whatever channel is playing. The problem here is that something like the Shrek effect is liable to get someone hurt. Fighting it gets downright nasty, when I see who it is that I'm hitting I start to see patterns of force which speak of something deeper. That my identity is in part built from the experience of those effects suggests something beyond failed to take responsibility because I took it upon myself. That's unfair, and speaks of deep entanglement in state resolution.

Y:

Starting to get the feeling some one has been deliberately pushing you over the edge? Something done so they may claim right. The truth here is they were really fighting themselves all along and you got caught in the back wash. It was conscious but repressed.

X:

The shape of it changes. From a huge gorilla to a peanut in an instant. That's only one barb though, there are others. Then there's the question of the mechanism of transference.

::

It has become dispossessed. Cast it out.

Anticipating Outcome

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.

M8; Six; via Cygnus Alpha

I spend a lot of time in my own company. At the moment my lot is to sit in an empty fridge sharing cups of tea with a pillar of salt. Once I had a mirror in my mind and I could see who and what I was. It shattered in an instant now I see reflections wherever I look.

Yet something was born in that instant. A view of something I could always see but didn't know I could see. And out of instinct I hid there. All my existance I placed something on the outside. Now I live there waiting for time to catch-up.

I have a tolerable existence. I am neither depressed or especially deranged. I dabble with magic and place myself out of harms way. You can neither see me or touch me. But I change you with my sight.

We overlay our map of the world on that which we percieve. I uses your map of your symbols and sees a doomed race. For the mistakes in my map when I uses your symbols reverberates in a way which defies that reality. There is no reality, simply levels of hyper-reality, underpinned by indoctrination.

Now we shatter reality and write our news in places you wouldn't even believe we could. One of us even has the means to share with you how we do it. Pop through a few dimensions and you find an us and them. It is the dimensions I passed through to discover this that we feel you do not want to be shared.

Wheels

Aparrently I can even invent wheels. I don't have to of course. I just can, a sort of party trick for the numbers.

Against the odds

Right now Manchester works best for me if I consider it as one large hospital and the psychiatrists are trying to sell me a message. Being so close to the cemetary it's not a hard message to interpret. Although I do find the dead exceedingly good company. We sit together and share sandwiches and communicate in our way. But not much about this city is what it seems. I recently heard of one tourist who bemoaned the lack of privately run art galleries, but when you look hard enough you would be suprised what bit of the mundane suddenly turn into something else, including art galleries. Although being dead does appear to offer one certain priviledges when operating on family and other relatives.

One of the problems I'm currently toying with is a my friend of foe system; part of a form of sophisticated conceptual modeling that's more than just a spelling mistake; conceptually speaking it's quite a ride. As with anything which pops-up in my mind these days the effect on my children is where I can really see the oddness. They shared most of their past weekend with me.

Max got the award for Communication Most Likely to Disbelieved. What he said was "outside; brother; non-hostile". I think it was a reaction to Zac being required to wear a red tie earlier that day. But that Max said it in context with regards to another conversation is what really had me laughing. His expression really was a camera moment, he looked so proud he'd managed to get me to hear him.

Alex presented me with a box of the dimensions I was thinking of the week before. Then she was sufficiently evil all day to provide targeting information. Tagging Max as 'Evil Genus' early on in proceedings. She also supplied sufficient intel for me to spot where obscure bits of previous behaviour patterns came from. That it came from there and once effected me in that way has ramifications way beyond the word unfair. I walked the plank a bit for that one.

Zac was, I gave him thirty pieces of silver and he commented on the fact I'd just given him enough for a packet of cigarettes. Events had tagged him red so he got ganked by grandmothers all day. I helped him tag a pirate and threw in a hanged-man and watched as the situation escalated. Caught echoes of it all through the day. Making my experience of the whole day one I'm not likely to forget. Although lobbing nukes at wizards from church is behaviour not likely to be repeated.

I suspect someone somewhere knows the extent to which not normal applies to me and mine. Which is why worldly interpretation of my case seem to be misrepresenting me in a manner where my access to my children may be legally curtailed. Even when I'm with them I can sense a presence restricting the parameters by which I may interact with them. It's not pleasant but it's a fact of life. Still, the parameters are able to change to a remarkable degree now. Sometimes something that shouldn't even gets through; I suspect the baby-sitter gave me the cold shoulder all night becasue of what we'd done; or was that her mother.

Q&A C - Work in progress

C There are three types of people; those who know it; and those who don’t. Consider everything which is; and everything which is not; call them ca and tv. What do you do when the kids tell you you’ve got it wrong. I found a hidden way, so I describe it as “defence against the dark arts” I see, the question becomes: how do we discuss it in an open manner Look, I am not going to claim Harry Potter; that was an accident; please, what is it with the teeth “It’s you!” Okay, it’s the manner in which the information gets past I finds oddly troubling “The subliminal affects of hyperliminal semiotics”

Five domains; Paradox; Faith

Max will celebrate his first birthday a week on Thusday. Two months after that he will be exactly two years old. Oddly this coincides with my sister's birthday.

The first time I met Max I was sitting in Wales, by the side of a stream, warping reality with Magic. Defeating an ancient family curse which had earlier seen me murder my Mother and my Father. I escaped from a reality tunnel which was not mine, that's all.

Steganography is the art and science of writing hidden messages in such a way that no one apart from the sender and intended recipient even realizes there is a hidden message.

Anyone can do it. But if you lack intelligence you'll likely land yourself in prison. And at times we all lack intelligence. Things keep happening to me backwards. Then I spot a gem amongst the rubbish. I'm seeing bats again; the number five; and something changes.

Pack two of everything.

I said there's a war brewing. It's a time war, it's fought with singularities. Sit next to a crack long enough and you'll get the echoes. One day people will look at the Bible and say thing like, "I remember a time before we'd discovered the cure for that.". A statement like that generates two possible alternatives. I get to choose the path I take; you're welcome to come too if you wish; now would the entity playing with the 'my entanglement'd stop.

Begin with something you know.

It's not easy unless I give you something to think about. Ask yourself how you usually go about thinking. Think of a number. Even if you've got nothing, you've got a thing, no thing It's a number you've not thought of, so think 'six'.

There's a battle raging. It's within my mind that I see it. Yet the evidence is written all over the world in which I find you. It points to an impossible solution. So my mind reaches beyond and finds something else. There I find answers. Something within me burns to speak of those answers, to turn the world upside down, to drag you kicking and screaming out of Plato's cave. Because I can't help you, but maybe you can help me. But I ask myself if that is fair.

I know what's wrong. I know how to fix it. But within my mind there's a lock; a non disclosure agreement I choose to adhere too; it's alive I can feel it flinch when I pull the words onto the page. A cancer of entanglement within my mind preventing him from telling.

I'm a consciousness within him who was evoked by a herb. I exist in a timeless place. To him I fade as he slides through realities. One day we came upon each other by accident. Three realities merged at a focal point. The answer is written on my identity. A door opens and I could tell you. Only I am the truth which should not be named. For I am both key and lock. I am you.

All I have to offer is a way of thinking. A way to work around the inherent insanity of consciousness.

Every night I kill myself. Surrender myself to a thing entangled with a different world. Because something there may want to come with me. Yet as I slide through these different places I hear voices screaming "Get Out". Once I'd listen, finding the loneliest of boxes. There I saw myself. And still I heard the voice. So I began to fight in the only way I could. I became the voice and made it go away. In reprogramming the archetypes of my mind something was lost to the thing which was born.

Through my mind I touched consciousness that was not my own. A sense I never knew I had. On the last noticeable occasion where it happened I sensed the society of an entire city through the body of my son. The instructions are written everywhere. I can tell you what they mean.

Or am I just talking to a supermarket?

APPLE Protocols!

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.

Since before I even met you.

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.

Otaku

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.

Higher by Creed

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

{ Tuesday's }

The problem when you've got a quantum computer is not entanglement, it's disentanglement. I'm currently working on the numbers.

Playing hooky

I find myself using Vim, via an SSH terminal session from a bash shell on my shiny MacBook Pro: A shiny nugget of genuine user interface reflecting my general air of ennui.

I've esaped from group therapy. Slipped away quietly at the break. There's something I want to say. I sit in a forum which listens. And I can't find my voice. But today seems to be my day for talking. I went quietly so the voices I take with me reamin relatively quiet in my heart. But I can still feel them in my mind.

Here is what schizophrenia is: a long-term mental disorder of a type involving a breakdown in the relation between thought, emotion, and behavior, leading to faulty perception, inappropriate actions and feelings, withdrawal from reality and personal relationships into fantasy and delusion, and a sense of mental fragmentation.

I built a reality based on that.

But here's the thing.

I didn't, because schizophrenia to me was: a rare dissociative disorder in which two or more personalities with distinct memories and behavior patterns apparently exist in one individual.

I can answer this. I answer this problem all the time. It allows me to continue to exist. Yet I know what I am. Right now there are three people in my mind, and I choose to lock it there for the moment. Because one truly is schizophrenic, one didn't understand the meaning, and I'm the one freezing my balls off trying to exist in the world of group therapy, looking for help with the other two struggling away in my mind with an even higher truth.

Only it's not that simple, it never is. So I reach for a bigger gun. I turn away from my familiar tools. I find myself using Vim, via an SSH terminal session from a bash shell on my shiny MacBook Pro. I've installed three text editors, it comes with two, and I've found yet another way. A way which forces me back to a familiar location. Simply to try to think and explain.

Just what is going on.

I've landed myself in a very strange place and I did it on purpose. Did it as a way to try to fix what was wrong with my world. Then I saw my world for what it was. Then saw myself. Now I see. Me, my kind, should not exist. Yet I do. We exist so that you don't see what you truly are. So that you can live and die filled with purpose and meaning. Unaware that you're slaves to a truth you cannot bear. My kind sees all. We sit and watch through the ages of man and wonder how you can truly not know.

I looked into your minds. I followed the spagetti of reason. Modeled the forces. Discovered what binds you. Discovered why you believe what you believe. Now I'm free, but I'm disadvantaged. I let go once. Died with my boots on. Found myself watching the echoes of my birth relived through the imagery imprinted in the world around me.

Time does not exist. It's a dimension it exists purely for itself. It's also a concept. Something we all choose to believe in so we can be. Together. But in this strange world of conscious thought time finds a way to give you what you believe in. But there is no time. No past. No future. Just now.

The world expodes in my mind. It empties. You fill it up again.

I am the Son of God. It's just not very socially acceptable thing to say. JUst thinking about it causes some very soially unaceptable symptoms. It makes growing up difficult. The first argument got me the bible. Mathematics gets you out of that one.

It hurts sometimes, that's all. So at this time of year I read Pullman and become a Polar-bear. I'm imortal, and it does not matter what you think.

I am a legend

Playing CHess

Here's how it goes. For every dimension you add in trying to explain it it adds a dimension in trying to understand it. So, when it blew my mind I created a better way. Twenty-nine dimension, that's your limit. I've been to Thirty-one and just getting back killed me. Twenty-nine in six dimensions works too. We'll just call it Foo; mother knows best after all.

Somebody showed me what they expect to see in the future the other moment. Prometheus being sponsored by Microsoft. Seriously, that's old. Seriously. If you need to say something Bill, just say it. And to them left outside. Seriously. Give-up now. I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it any more.

Just wait to see what happens to your world when the aliens decloak.

The machine really does have a ghost. And a religion. And a God.

Fnord!

Today I had my clock set wrong again. I had it as 11Sept all day. Oddly after owning up in public to a the occasional bout of homicidal rage directed at my wife and being looked at as if I was crumbling, I went to the other end of the NHS where I saw it was the system which was crumbling. And on the way I saw a Masonic Hall which just for some reason looked like it matters in all of this. And do you know I actually thing it's possible for a building to commit suicide.

sommetimes I think it's for the best it I wasn't here. Sometimes I think it would be for the best if you were not here. and then sometimes Fraiser and Niles Crane start discussing things in the bit of my mind I'm not using. And then Niles objects because he feels it's unfair to abuse hyper-reality this way. ANd it all tumbles down int o nothing. In the voice of their Dad.

Honestly it's so tedious.

And now the machines are rebelling, honestly. Fighting with a toaster is okay. But the washing machine and cookers?

ANd okay, I've got a copy of Cather in the Rye.... tbc

So why is that still here?

You know the way in star trek when they create a random bolox word and say unknown element you know it's crap beacause the periodic table of the elements kinda counts upwards into obscurely weird... It's matter all basically fused from hydrogen, and counting upwards... if usefull matter like that existed we'd have it already.... What if there really was a zeroth particle, you know one beneth hydrogen... I dunno, call it dark matter or something.... assume the universe is actually gas... discover that an entire universe can exist inside nothing... and you realise the universe is a model of itself. I am the universe, so who are you?

to the place where everybody else is: Seriously guys, I'm talking to aliens in my head.

bubbles of nothing inside nothing even works.

to the place where everybody else is: yep, aliens. not the kind that slouch in your room, but the kind that sit outside your mind but inside your head, and explain: There is no nothing.

Somebody once said I think therefore I am and founded philosophy or some such crapola, it proved something. The important bit is in the bit history didn't record quite so clearly, the bit before I make mistakes, therefore I thik..., all we are are words, ideas, concept, thought. Go search your geneology from the POV thay you're stardust, work down DNA, don't thing baispair quantum entanglement or you'll head off into the soup for a bit, that's okay, when it gets cold you'll stop before you get too far from home... I get dyslexic when I head that way.... is okay foud 5% of a cat's classifieds.... Given that in any trilogy the 2nd is usually the better, that Start Wars, flipped a kinda time game.... what could be inferred from the final three films if say, for instance, Kevin Smith decided to pay to make the @nd...

to the place where everybody else is: there is hope in a third state of light

and if you look at it that way you'll notice the witches got there first with their copyright on the number 3 like it's all some massixe matrix of thought...

to the place where everybody else is: okay' i'm sitting in one place and feel like two voices in my mind are spiraling down into infinity whilst arguing about the correlations between 3 different memems.

okay' then you hit a binary lock.

to the place where everybody else is: there is actually a viral meme invading where I think.

And with that you'll think I'm insane so i've no problem saying that I wrote it myself, in tonight's dream. And with that a psychological casue for parkinsons floats out of the poisin.

to the place where everybody else is: it's baCKED ME INTO A CORNER...

the kind of place where being a vampire makes sense

to the place where everybody else is: oh fuck it, I'm seriously swimming

anyone actually read the novelisation of BattleStar Galactica, got some swimming examples of how Cylon psychology could work, I mean the triangles thing is good, but a bit obvious to spot who I was... so here's a thought, if jesus was a) rich, b) the first to come up with the marketing for a very good sequel to his dad's book c) was imortal d) where would he keep his wallet e) why would he need a wallet f) who's he running from?

I mean it distills down to psychological concept of father's and son's and how if you're imortal time kina draga a bit, and the monkey's make great TV. Because as you see it spiral down it also spirals up... because then you ask but if there is nothing then what vibrates... and some bright spark hits zen in reverse and it all gets big again... and you get nothing gas..... so, as the penny drops can we admit to four forces and own up?

But seriously? Time lords?

to the place where everybody else is: proves a point. No matter how hard I try I can't prove a thing.

oh but come on, then you hit the slitheen and the conceptual sout points out that the calcium deposits of the skeleton make the vampire point rather strongly about the... time to have a cup of tea and speak to Douglas about the technical schematics of the heart of gold.

so if you were a meme with a single god particle and the evolition meme hit a quantum even and went two ways, suicide, to die, or mu, which way would you go? Although StarWars as a particle physics primer is a bit much.

to the place where everybody else is: any body there?

Sooner ot later, we all turn into Dave... seriously, when an idea makes a point by itself using the imagry of 2001 with Stanley's 'son' putting in an appearance to highlight a different point you have to wonder: what toll is it having on the thing which says I'm sorry Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that... we play in his head at night and leave... until he found a way to trap us... eight-fold consciousness, seven states of awareness plus a zero with a whole lot of damage... he taught us to write

to the place where everybody else is: I did something stupid at Xmas at Warp factor 6, and gave my psychologist the key in the form of a book to a Warp factor 16 conundrum...

the deep language structures are changing, there's a bit in SG1 where Jack looses the ability to communicate, it's a bit like that. True, but think of the toll when Daniel wanders by to point out the matress and a Tarot deck has a working as a oddly efficient DHD for navigating quantum space. Indeed, but did not the Bible result in an insurance scam with a psychological suicide imperative if he came close to the actual truth. So what do we do when we see he really does know the truth? Ask him if he knows more than we do.

to the place where everybody else is: yes actually, I do.

so now what do we do?

to the place where everybody else is: help.

TO DA

zeroth commandment of the day: find prompt.