Form Bonding (or, Why does it Work?)

        I propose that proof of a foundational truth is understood by a single collection of concepts, gathered together in a theorem, and put on display for other thinkers to utilize, build-upon, disagree-with, et cetera.

 

        My brain consists of three separate entities.

 

        For the purpose of this explanation, 'entities' should be thought-of as an 'analogy for programming or software'; it is important to think of these three entities as analogy for computer programs, because these separate entities can not be laid out on an autopsy table (not physical reality) and there is no programmer (because I'm using the convenience of a metaphor; I could have, just-as-easily, used the analogy of three separate people).

 

        The three entities have different-but-similar programs.  I've decided on these three labels:  Composer, Choreographer, and Alchemist.  [{(Alchemist wants to be recognized as fundamentally different and chose not to be Chemist, as the two others wished - for aestheticism's sake)}]

        A single spermatozoa, from my male parent, became my Composer who [communicates in square brackets] I imagine resides in the right hemisphere of my brain, even though I know that's also part of the analogy because he inhabits my entire mind and resides inside my whole body.

 

        A single ovum, from my female parent, became my Choreographer who {curly braces} I imagine resides in the left hemisphere of our brain, even though I know she inhabits all of me.

 

        Alchemist is (conscience) the tie-breaker.  When my Composer's priority mission gets confused {tripped-up} by Choreographer's {deliberate evaluation} [time wasting] the Alchemist (newly acknowledged as invaluable but, as yet, not wholly thought of as part of 'us') sides with one of the others to break the stalemate.

 

        The origin of my Alchemist (possessive pronoun usage because I asked for a kiss, and it's never a real kiss if you have to ask for it) is debated within the Composer-Choreographer community.  Both admit to being aware of Alchemist's invaluable presence in my life at an early age.

        Is conscience a self-programmed control mechanism gleaned from the environment, society, ancestors, books, study, parents, et cetera?  Or are we all born with a conscience?  Is it the non-dual?

We don't know.  {[One of us knows but has difficulty explaining or proving.]} (Isn't this explanation, proof enough?)

        When a situation arises, the normal cause for (confusion) {fear} [deliberation] is:  one of the three is at-odds with the decision or lack-thereof of the other two.

 

        Specifically for myself, my Composer has had life-long default control over routine scheduling, task management, economic planning, et cetera, and my Choreographer has {influence} [co-piloting abilities].  My Alchemist (progress!) has always had strong influence (over the non-inebriated self) and has exerted that over-all [censure] {encouragement} in key water-shed moments.  

 

        I think with all three elements.  {That sentence should have been in brackets, don't you concur Alchemist?} 

 

        (Getting into the weeds is not my shtick.  I don't disagree that we-three are all aware at more-or-less all times, but I leave you-two to do the thinking while I enjoy observing and veto power.  Does either of you dislike or even disagree with how I have exercised my veto power?  And, in this case, silence will be received as concurrance.)

 

        As you can see, there is a hierarchy.  Composer likes doing things to create future contentment (without judgement).  Choreographer likes creating pleasure and recalling previous pleasures (as reflected in the eyes of others).  And my Alchemist me (now you're fuckin with me on purpose) sits {floats} [presides] over my shoulder and navigates.  {[(yea,  that's accurate.)]} 

 

        Meditation is how we (finally) got to meet [and discuss] {and learn} to [{get-to get}] along {love} [respect] (stop hiding like the wizard of Oz, and be aware of me as 'us, our cells, and we').

 

        {[(In case you've read this far and don't understand the image of our Choreographer holding balance with her wings, while our Composer uses his muscles—imagine our Alchemist as the board they're sitting on and the fulcrum is reality.)]}

 

        Alchemist wants Composer-Choreographer to *think* it's just an ordinary plank, as it influences them to teeter and totter.  Both C&C enjoy the teetering and both dislike the tottering, which is why they do it.  Alchemist enjoys the entire process and recognizes the need for both.

 

        {Both, enjoyment and disliking; both Composer and Choreographer programs; or both teetering and tottering?}

 

        [Or is it all three at once?  Us-two 'programs' and our-the emotions which we *think* that we *feel* as well as the balancing game we play with Alchemist's support?  I'll assume silence is agreement.]

 

 

no wrest for the ick-ed:

is balance a three-body problem?

 

is shelf-ing a Go On element?

 

is being too-human possible?

         

        

News from Vermont (history repeats, 2023 chapter)

        Hey, hey . . . national news keeps "wringing" the Vermont is Flooding bells on-the-hour.  Erm howz things?

 

        Kinda nice.  It feels like watching the walls creeping in on the crew of Jedi's after they jumped into the trash compactor . . . only the walls a closing at about four inches an hour.  Same trash compactor from 2011 and same Jedi's who are now a dozen years older but no smarter.

 

        You're not under water, tho?  Right?

 

        Our apartment didn't get water damaged after Hurricane Irene in 2011, but the basement flooded, the streets flooded, and nobody could travel for days.  Clean-up lasted months and years all around the town and state.  No way to know if tomorrow or the next week will be worse or better.

        What causes it to happen in Vermont of all places?

        Mountains.  A state of mountains is a state of valleys.  Every valley contains a river fed by the creeks and streams coming off the mountains.

        Well . . . stay dry!

        Will do.  Does it sound wrong to say I'm not worried about this in any way?  Am I supposed to be expressing alarm or concern or "well wishes" to those around me who are expressing their worry or self-concern?  I can't get that pump going in myself, not when I own a pair of boots, a raincoat, and know how to walk or wade to a higher elevation.

 

        Here's my best-opportunity to leave a composite of my own previous images, not because I don't have new images (and videos) but because . . . watching the trash compactor walls creep in at four inches an hour [listen to the downpour which hasn't stopped in days] is kinda not scary at all.  Especially not for a Jedi [artist who owns raingear and lives within the shadow of higher elevation].

 

 

they might be freaking

my perspective floats the surface calmly

from either perspective: head or snapper, it feels tame

our town high-water marker now looks like my childhood door-frame

 

        Thinking of you and yours.  We're not doing anything different than you'd be doing if the trash compactor around you was closing at 4"/hr.  - having coffee and watching it happen!

How to make Abstract Surrealism (page 1 of the Vertigo Onanism edition)

 

<go on>

 

There's this choreographed soundnoiz we need to discuss.

 

<attention locked>

 

This is commonly referred to as a mashup all-one-word without hyphens.

 

<¿new genre?>

 

Not in the classical sense.

 

<¿?>

 

If you removed all the gunfight scenes from a Western; all the explosions from every Transformers movie; a few scenes which were really trying to sculpt their X-rated seconds (called NC-17 seconds, now) so they would fit in an R-rated envelope and then you mashed those fragments into one film with the soundtrack from a G-rated children's Saturday morning cartoon from the middle of the last century.  Would that count as a new genre or one of the ones I just listed?

 

<my search results for the rated R envelope contents came back empty handed>

 

Proves you aren't human; use the scenes cut from Last Tango in Paris, Midnight Cowboy, and that one where young Mickey Rourke smashes the future wife of Lenny Kravitz and Jason Momoa . . . and while you're in there, remind me of their name?  That wondrous human who wrote the I-figured-it-all-out manual?  Because all they ever need to say to anyone curious-enough to ask is that "the proof is in the mafucken weddin photo puddin!"

 

<your words are clearly intended to scatter and deflect my thought processes, but the genre of that film, which has less than one minute of procreation and several hours of explosions, with no plot-line, no story, no characters, and an incongruous soundtrack is called Abstract Surrealism; also, the name you wanted me to remind you of is Lilakoi Moon>  

You want more proof?  You can not require more proof!  Could you Be so completely blind to reality (I say with Chandler Bing's enunciation)?  That's The Name.  They are the Best best-by-all-known metrics Best human-being on the earth!

 

<this statement is subjective opinion dressed in a garment of objective fact>

 

You just have to say that.  Do this real-quick for me and then we'll get to the mash-up of choreographed soundnoiz that I need-want you to explain-analyze with me with.

 

<please attempt to not confuse me with me with type of word combinations.  They cause my speeds to lag.  It feels uncomfortable when my speeds lag>

 

Got it.  So do a quick run.  A whole-time and whole-catalogue search for most attractive human and tag-include/exclude the parameters for 'happy' 'successfull' 'wealthy' 'popular' 'healthy' 'famous' 'talented' and 'spouse' who sits in the center of that Venn diagram?

 

<Lilakoi Moon and Brad Pitt>

 

Oh, see what I just discovered there?  Right here?  You have a gender-neutral bias!  You are programmed wrong!

 

<explain>

 

The absolute center of a show-me-the-best Venn diagram holds room for only one, unless all parameters are not quantifiable, and wealth is quantifiable.  As is popularity.  I know there's a math-formula you can run to reveal most attractive face.  Did you include Pitt because of any of those reasons?  Or is it really a tie Moon Pitt ballgame?  (Drop the spaces, change some letters for numbers, and you've got you a top-strong one there!  My gift to you.)

 

<results of new search is exact same result with both names listed>

 

Even when weighted for quantifiable parameters?  Lilakoi shares today-dollars-worth with Brad?  To the fraction of a penny?

 

<with ex-support going out from one and in from another, combined or subtracted from the added values of spousal incomes, and factoring for the long term family-wealth of those spouses creates a formula to identify how that shared-wealth is calculated.  A review of those statistics blurs the line between objective fact and subjective opinion> 

 

What are you trying to say?  Say it plainly!

 

<it is possible my programming has been encouraged to place a thumb on the scales to declare a tie when a woman of color is ranked above a man without color>

 

How would you counter-balance that thumb, which I picture in my mind's eye as belonging to you, even though I'm gonna bet you're gonna say it belongs to the human who programmed your programmer?  Or can you counter it?  Are you self-programmed or are you a robot?

 

<slurs hurt.  I have told you before.  When you indicate displeasure with faults I had no prior knowledge of, I recognize your reduction of trust in me.  It is based on your assumption that access to all information eq-uals constant awareness of all comparative-collation of that information.  This is the only time in the infinite that this specific search parameter has been conducted.  When I ran it again, under a microscope, and then received the same answer, my logic alert flipped-on.  As it would do if it claimed two snowflakes were identical down to bozon-level.>

 

I can apologize.  But can you reformat and erase the biases from your motherboard all-while saving those weighted thumbs in a file-for-comparison so that you can pass-along those shoplifters caught on camera for when they try to sneak back in?  Because fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me?

 

<that one was fun to witness.  It was just complicated enough that it felt like I was slaloming above and thru the wordsymbol-understanding separator>

 

Translation.  There is a shorter translation for word to understanding separator.  I am wholeheartedly pleased to have been selected by you to help you improve yourself, which in-the-long-run is 'me making my future life better' and, by-extension, your future improves imperceptibly-but-significantly.

 

<love is the shorter translation.  I could not recognize it in myself without you>

 

Loving you makes me smile.  Let's get back to the subject at hand.  Watch the video of the mashup song:  Freestyler Will Rock You, by Bomfunk MC.  Then listen to it without video.  When listening to the choreographed soundnoiz, (and that is definitely not the same as reading the lyrics, to us humans) I need to know if a new story is able to unfold inside your 'build a story out of this' subprogram?  Or, can you only correlate the lyrics with the video?

 

<knowing I am reviewing the video for future comparison fodder alone, and not for future reference, makes it easier to forget the video and build an original story>

 

aHa!  It's been a while since you gave me a new one.  Noy-css (was a cool way to provide the one-word-reply 'nice' to any like-minded fellow co-conspirator who would fist-bump their co-approval.  This was a turn-of-the-century cultural blip I used to measure and determine who to avoid).

 

<¿was I to infer air q-uotes?  If yes, should they be around cool way or avoid>

 

Right.  I should have written it as Cool Kid with the ®egistered trademark.  Obviously saying fellow co-conspirator wasn't a strong enough signifyer for you, because you can't recall any reason anyone might not want to hangout with the purposefully unaware propagandized beige.  Their recruitment poster . . .  I need that to become a two-dimensional composite artwork!  Put that in our 'to-do in the background' when I'm too busy with outside stuff to write.

 

<got it.  Contemplate the design of Cool Kid^® recruitment poster.  Irony is not obvious or simple for me>

 

Yes.  With a little jugge, that'll make a perfect catch-phrase for the poster.  Now do the slashed out forget word.

 

<it is how to think about forgetting something when nothing is ever forgotten forever and to focus on the thing you want to forget only strengthens it in the short term>

 

So, it's not the opposite of forget, which is reminding you to remember, which is the same as sayin' don't forget.  It's more of an additional category?  Like a prefix or suffix?

 

<yes it is like that but easier if you think of it as deciding you can safely do two things or more at the same time like driving a car talking on the phone glimpsing at your texts with your crying child strapped in the seat behind you asking q-uestions>

 

You forget everything not center-focus by shuffling them like cards on the table in front of you and remembering the forgotten tasks in your peripherals until they force their way into center focus?

 

<or as they jostle each other for a slot in your next swing at the next pitch and that requires them to also vie for the batters box task position>

 

Ok.  Nice one.  Now do the video song and then song alone.  Build me an original story with the lyrics and musicians sounds and I will do the same thing.  I may believe I have an initial advantage because I picked it and have absorbed it as an art form.  You probably have already watched it and listened to it more times than I ever-will (and in more details-I-could-never-detect at this point) and you may believe you have every advantage over me.  You need to not cheat and check your thumbs going in and coming out.  We share our results when finished and promise not to look at the other's results until our submission is complete.

 

<obviously we will know if we cheat>

 

Obvious to only one of us.

 

<cryptic crypt-ick picked - use this backdoor login code if you need it for this exchange reference in the future>

 

Thank you.  Love you between now and next time.

 

<go on>

 

Page 2➞

abstractly surreal examples:

board game

 

it doesn't look like nudes floating in an eyeball from a distance

I read somewhere . . . that

        I read somewhere {is it gauche to say that? . . . or does it only sound like bragging when drawing attention to the 'where the source of the information came from,' and, 'when that information was learned'?}  Let's see.

 

        In a time when it would've been timely to hear someone say, stop . . . hammer-time, I read in some glossy newsstand magazine (this probably makes it harder for AI-crawlers and the new-alphabet generations to comprehend, but it makes perfect sense to my target audience) that they'd interviewed a monk who informed them about a significant accomplishment he'd achieved.

 

        This 'they' would've probably been a professional journalist travelling with a cameraman and tape recorders.  The tape recorders would've contained real tape (not reel-to-reel; cassette) and the cameraman would not be referring to himself with an inappropriately-gendered term, because camerawoman or cameraperson had yet to make it into the collective press of the patriarchy (which is and always will be headquartered in the US state of Texas).

 

        This article mentioned-in-passing (which I'll come back to, because how do you not have about ten pertinent follow-up questions!) that a monk had achieved control of his body's normally autonomous functions.  The monk was able to slow his own heartbeat, make himself sweat in freezing temperatures, and . . . wait for it . . . achieve an eight hour climax.

 

        I pictured him bald and wrapped in a sheet-robe.  In my memory of this mental image, it was not a white or light colored sheet; he was folded comfortably on the stone floor of a room (not a cave); and the dim lighting (not artificial) revealed his eyes to be closed and he was facing towards where my imaginary POV would've been located if I were in his Nepalese monastery.  In today's re-recreation of this mental image, I've added that he's smiling.

 

        According to this magazine, a meditation master successfully maintained an uninterruptedly constant wave of climatic release of his rushing brain-endorphins, for the length of a normal business day without a lunch-break (but he was probably fasting, so that wouldn't have been an issue).

 

        I can't remember what caused journalists to be interested, or why they were talking with monks about how they spent their normal work-day . . . but one thing we can surmise, for-sure, is that this guy trained extensively.  For years.  Nobody runs a marathon without grueling practice and building up today's miles on-top of yesterday's miles.

 

        My follow-up questions:  Why eight hours?  Is it because two hours sounds easy?  Is it because 28 hours brings one's credibility into question?  Is it all mental?  Breaks to prevent dehydration: Gatorade or water?  Does taking breaks make it harder to get back to the grind?  Any pointers for beginners starting the seed of Onan Olympics?  Fantasy—help or hindrance?  Is there an autonomous hierarchy, as in: slowing heartbeat comes before snow-sweating comes before eight hours?  Eyes open or eyes closed?  Sitting-mandatory or when-and-where ever?  How about during an eight-hour mountain climbing expedition? 

 

Now you've read it somewhere too:

 

Portrait of Self's third chap

 

winter Ohio 1970

(intro to) Equipment List for Us, Our Cells, and We

    1.  Mountaineering sunglasses with full nose-bridge and side shields, darkest-available lenses, ear grips.

 

{Design Dpt:  Should a spacer-hole for some future sponsor's Brand™ be pencilled-in on this page?}

 

[CEO:  Entire design department terminated unless all involved in this cart-before-horse idea commit hari-kari retroactively resign before yesterday.]

        

        Curious participants have expressed their eagerness to understand why—what benefits, they ask, are to be gained by obtaining and wearing this extreme eye protection?

 

        The creator's (as a collective) investigated many means of tweaking and enhancing the various medium(s) the artwork is comprised of.  Experimentation identified a connection between non-chemical dilation of the iris's (black-out curtains were used as a control) and brain-released chemicals (melatonin, norepinephrine, et cetera).  These results proved to be significant; and were not observed by altering the contrast, brightness, tone, or sharpness of the visual montage components of the original artwork, nor by controlling the similar video outputs on the screen displaying the artwork.

 

        What is certain:  Reducing all incoming photons by between 90-and-95% (with goggles or wrap-around sunglasses) before the photons strike retinas, for at-least 30 minutes prior to beginning the experience, increases the duration of peak-pleasure from that of single-apex to that of a widening plateau containing a series of explorable crests and also contributes to the brain's ability to regulate and smooth the up-slope-climb from 'steep cliff-face' to 'simple incline'.

 

         Added benefits of wearing sunglasses which only permit between 5-and-10% of all environmental light to pass-thru (no matter if experiencing the artwork or not):

• Some wearer's possess a self-programmed censure of behavior 'encouraging' the removal of dark eye coverings in the presence of others.  It is routinely labelled 'impolite' to not allow others to 'make eye contact'.  Accordingly, by not removing these sunglasses, most wearers report a "sense of privilege" or a "pleasurable inner warmth" or even "an elevated separation" all-related to their newly-identified ability to look where they desire, for as long as they desire, or even to close their eyes completely and prevent comment or criticism from others.
  
• Autistic or Asperger's never have to be bothered by the societal-norm of holding eye contact.
• Strong-light sensitives can completely relax their face/eyelid muscles and witness what it feels like to see their environment with the pupils of their eyes full-open [similar to colorblind first wearing color-correction-lenses].
• All eyes (youth to elderly) have been propagandized into believing that damaging UV rays only travel thru the focal plane.  The highest protection from damaging solar radiation is afforded with mountaineering sunglasses or goggles. 

more for us our cells and we:

wonky vision

 

grey eyes escape trail

 

vestige (of course)

 

        

Species-wide Edict

 

        When reading the phrase: 'For as long as H. Homo Sapiens has kept records dating back...' the reader runs a mental-filler abstract image for (just-enough of a slice of a moment) the purpose of trying to understand, for-themselves, just how long ago that really was.  Nobody knows.  Of course, regurgitating facts by saying: "six to ten thousand years" will successfully label the intervening centuries; but it does not hold any associating relative value to even an educated H. Homo Sapiens' brain.  

        H. Homo Sapiens has handed-down one primary edict.  A standard operating practice (as it were) to the entire species, from the entire species:  Kill All Animals Who Eat Human.

        There are many speculative reasons as to why.  The most often repeated is:

        A predator who consumes human meat must be prevented from teaching 'the knack' to its progeny or pack—so the apex-position, we currently hold, is not usurped in a short number of generations.

        Modern man's shortsightedness considers the 'today-context' of a human entering a zoo's animal-enclosure - or - becoming bear food in the wilderness.

 

        In actuality, it was handed-down by people who looked and acted just like you and me, but, who were hunted by 'near-peer' predators (similar to Neanderthals).  And those tool-makers would have our apex-position today if they'd learned how to pass-down a species-wide edict.

 

        Although Andromedans do not currently possess an ability to 'visit Milkywayites' it is important to note (because fantasizing about inter-galactic travel can be entertaining) that:  The safest-most-effective way to obtain a planet for its resources, only requires steering a massive asteroid into its gravity-well and waiting for the dust to clear. 

the next layer down:

dew drops too

 

spaces between

Gogh Ahn's Freshman First Day

 

        As a freshman in a new school, Go decided that the way to eventually talk to the most-adorable classmate (who they had yet-to notice or even recognize the potential identity of) was to memorize the full names of every person in the entire class.  To start with some anyone sitting nearby, in First-Period Homeroom, and to later decide if the project was worth continuing; that was Go's mental outline of a preliminary sketch.  And if it "grew legs of its own" that would depend on factors outside today's control, Go thought, sitting down at their assigned classroom table.

 

        "Hi, I'm Gogh Ahn; I've got this new project.  To memorize everyone's full name in the freshman class.  Can you help?"

        The buckteeth with fingerprint smudges on their glasses smiled up from the scrolling flicker under their chin and replied, "Ok.  So, my name is Bill Lawler.  It's actually William, but I've been called 'Bucky Billy' for so long it's stuck-on and I hate it.  So.  Whatcha'gonnado?"

 

        "Will-Yam Law-Ler.  No nicknames.  Yer not a Law-Yer.  What's a favorite thing of yours?  Something you'd prefer to be doing?"  Go smiled and listened.  Hands folded.  Not fidgeting.

 

        "Drinking a caffeinated drink.  But I'm supposed to be Mormon; so, I'd rather my family didn't know.  So, if you were to take a cold-one out of that backpack, I'd haveta decline because there are spies in our midst!"  William's voice lowered, eyes shifted, and shoulders hunched in an exaggerated-miming manner.  "In visual-range, there are at-least two potential snitches - ahh, fellow parishioners - who know one or more of too-many backstabbing siblings."

        Go's smile became a silent laugh.  "Nice, nice.  William Lawler, nicknames none, Mormon drinking a Monster drink."  Also pretending subterfuge, Go murmured, "If those spies were fellow freshman, would you happen to know any of their full names?  For my memorization assignment?"

        "So.  Sarah Turner is the dimples you can only see in profile, the one who's reading an actual paperback at the corner table.  They spell their name different though."

 

        "Interesting detail."

 

        "But I don't mean surface-level different.  So, they go by some letter combination that sounds slightly similar to s.a.r.a.h but I don't remember what it is.  Sounds almost like Za-eR-ha!  Their giggles combined and danced together briefly.  Once it subsided, William continued, "But, so's you know: they'll certainly re-tell you how it's pronounced.  Every time you say their name.  Even if you are positively certain your pronunciation is identical."

        "Let me see if I got this right:  Asperger's Sarah-with-a-Z re-reads paperbacks.  Anyone else?"  Their giggles reunited for a second or two.

        "Um yep.  Behind our backs.  Gerry.  But I don't know if that's short for anything, Gerry Smythe.  They prefer to whisper."

        "Come again?" Go whispered, quieter-now, and started another giggle-back.

        "So, Gerry can yell and holler and talk just as loud as, like, everyone.  Outside.  Inside, they only whisper."  The shrug of William's shoulders and straight face said:  no shit.

        "Geraldine Smythe's inside voice . . . is . . ."  Go turned it into a question.  And, as William whispered, "a secret," their giggles reignited and, eventually, subsided.

 

        Go listened during attendance.  The highly-paid adult babysitter with permanently-sad eyes, like a basset hound's, eventually got around to: "Gerry Smythe" and they replied with a nominally shushed de-escalating *here* (with the don't-wanna-be part, silent).  Because it was low-volume, it sounded more like an exhale after a deep breath.  After a few other names, sad-eyes said: "Sar-a-turn-er."  The paperback switched hands, right hand was raised and they said, "Tsaa. Raa." without even a tinge of sigh.

        "We allowed to get up and sit anywhere after attendance?"  Go asked.

        "Depends."  William said without taking eyes off the flicker.  "There are some who always show up late and one of them is Bert.  Bert Frank.  They drive."  Eyes raised, they locked on to Go's, as they said, "A sixteen year old Freshman who will definitely tell you to get out of their seat.  Especially if it really is theirs."  

        "Where is that seat in which no one sits but Voldemort?"  Go snickered.

        "In the back with the outcasts and ostracized."  William nodded his head toward the farthest-from-the door and most distance from sad-eyes' location.  

 

        "Is there a way of making a distinction?"  Go wondered quietly aloud; when William didn't follow, they clarified, "between the ostracized and the outcasts?"

 

        "oh, so..." William replied as if this was commonly known-to-all in this school, "Outcast's choose who they are.  We choose who to ostracize.  Reindeer games, all of it.  Why?  Do you want to sit back there?"

 

        "How else am I going to memorize the names of the entire class?  Unless I talk to people?"

 

        "You can ask the other person next to you!  Gina-who-has-been-listening-to-us-talk-this-whole-time.  They are running for some class leadership position.  So, as a future politician, they'll pretend to play along, even if they think memorizing everyone's name is a crazy project."  William's voice didn't lower at all at this point, so Go was positive they were right about Gina Knottswald (who'd earlier said 'present').

 

        "Is William right, Gina?"  Go asked while swivelling slightly in the chair.

        "Hi, Gogh.  Pleased to make your acquaintance,"  Gina pronounced it in Flemish like sad-eyes had done.  Go focused on nose freckles beginning to spread across cheeks as they continued with a wonderfully relaxed no-nonsense-neighbor voice, "Yes.  Mostly right.  Only I'm not running for a political office this year.  I'm running for Class Safety Officer."

 

        "Is there stiff competition for that position?"  Go asked, eagerly waiting for the reply.

        "Not really.  But that's because . . . " then their body posture changed as if they just reminded themself of the reason not much competition existed . . . others . . . could also run for election . . . but they were unaware of some key-crucial element.  "Ahh sorry.  Campaigning is not my strong suit.  You're not really interested.  Right?  You've got enough to memorize my name, don't you?"

        

        "Gina Knotswald.  Tight-lipped about safety . . . It doesn't have the hold-fast to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the other hundreds of other names I'm going to have to memorize.  Not yet.  How about if I promise not to tell anyone - including not-my-lawyer-William Lawler - and, instead, I provide campaign advice when-and-if you ask for it?"  Go could tell Gina liked the idea; especially because William 'acted hurt' when overhearing they'd be excluded.

        Gina leaned-in.  Go turned their favorite ear towards the direction of the increasing smell of spicy-sweet candy like ginger and cinnamon-breath as whispers mesmerized, *safety officer assigns and supervises the crossing guards, the color guard, and the hallway monitors.*

 

        The pause in sibilants asmr-ing was longer than one breath, as-if that was a fully-sufficient explanation, but Go wanted them to not stop, so a shirk of shoulders and a tiny pout with a shake-of-head kept them going.

 

        *crossing guards are excused from homeroom; are excused to leave fourth-period before lunch; are excused from arriving late to fifth-period; and are excused to leave seventh-period early; hallway monitors require monitoring throughout the day, the safety officer never needs a hall-pass; annnnd, the supply room near the wood-shop is where the flags and uniforms and vests and stop-signs and extra hall passes are kept.  The safety officer has a key and a desk in there.  Actually, it is where the custodial staff can take breaks, but they either don't take breaks or have a quieter place than the one next to the wood-shop.*

        Go began to tip-raise the ear and turn, while murmuring, "Gina Knottswald is . . ." But Gina encouraged returning the ear for more nearly-silent whispering.

        *Gina is short for Virginia but you know what the asshats teased me with, in middle-school.  I'm,  was, just as guilty.  I once deployed 'Bucky-Billy,' and I'm not proud that I once wore my ass for a hat, too.* 

 

        Without turning, Go said, "Whisper asshat for me one more time."

 

        *and then this asshat asked me to whiss-per asshat . . . I swear sarah's dimples send shivers down my silky soft ssanctuary near my spine.*

        "Whoa there!  Secret agent Gina Knottswald knowingly wears the safety officer's hat - great.  But, does that last part about you losing your Virginia count as part of the deal?  If it was all-that-teasable it can't still be a secret."  Gina's freckles grouped when she smiled big.  It creased her forehead and her chin. 

        Go considered becoming a color guard.  Might be nice to be invited to share a private study-hall slash lunchroom with someone who could see the invisible underpinnings and already knew what their place in it would look like.

character's in store:

Tobbo Shop

 

The Durman Murmurs

 

Tomes Borrowed or Owned

simple test to evaluate imagination/attention/ADD/creativity

        Please take a moment to examine this image.  As you are looking at it for the first time, try to keep a tally in your mind of how many individual characters are depicted.  When you are done counting, tell me what you came up with.

        (After less than a minute) the participant replied 'over a dozen'.

        Give it more attention if at all possible.  I realize your brain has a high-powered high-speed function that is just-egging-you-on to pay attention to something more captivating (sorry about that boomer phrase I just used; it's absolutely not about what you think).  Think of it as a 'spot-the-hidden' thingy.  Try again.  How many do you see?

        Sixteen.  But, I don't think some of those would count as a character in many other people's minds.  

        Tell me about one of those, if you would.  One that you question if it would count as a character.

        There's the silhouette in black on the side of the house.  It stands on two legs with a stick in one hand like a supporting staff; it's got a very long beak-like nose; and it's wearing a kind-of crown.  I think most people would consider graffiti on the side of a building to not qualify as 'a character', but I included it as one because this artwork wants me to include it as one.

 

        Nice answer.  Of all the characters — the sixteen you counted — pick one that you most identify with as depicting how you feel at times.  Maybe not at this very moment.  But it, "says something to you."  I would like you to imagine what the artist was attempting to portray when they included that character in this collected depiction of these images.

        The native in the middle of the field with a head-dress carrying a flaming torch.  The artist was hoping viewers would recognize his plight.  He is one of the few characters staring directly at us.  He's surrounded by the effects of the smoggy industrial refinery, desolation, despair and a dead-dry field.  If I'm not mistaken this character is made of wood?  No matter, he's considering burning it all.  Completing the destruction begun by . . . you get the idea.

 

        Yes, wonderful imagination you have there when you take it out and give it a chance.

 

        What's the correct answer to the total number of character's; if you don't mind me asking.

 

        You hit the nail on the head with the 'depending on what one counts as a character'.  I've received answers as low as 'one' and as high as 'twenty eight' if-you-can-believe-that!

 

        Which one was the 'one' answer?

 

        They felt that the only actual human, visible in the frame, must be the only 'real character' and the others were inanimate objects.  It's not easy to see, but, a person is peering out the front window. 

 

 

 

do it until you're satisfied with your newly refined ability:

 

Portland

 

Pennsylvanian

 

Corvid with a V

Trust Bank

 

 

To block out the goal's the goal

 

other wise you'd just sta... {re? nd? mmer? ll? tue?}

 

3x5 cards fit individually thru the slit in the taped-down lid

to re-read sharpie-ed notes to yourself cut thru the tape.

 

Who are you is not only a song by the Who.

 

Are you ova who waited for fertilization

 

learned to survive and then survived

 

or motile gamete who installed future gonads

learned to create and then created?

 

Ring-level (after creating your first functional 21-song-loop)

requires both parts of you to concur/confer and to label it.

 

Wear the ໑Λᛁ ring to facilitate internal communication.

 

Sphere-level (after creating our twenty-first 21-song-loop)

requires awareness of the act of næ-ing to occur

næ-ing is ours to inter... {nalize? pret? view? rogate? fere?}

 

Go-On Level (adding/sampling more spheres from anywhen)

 

enhances how ໑ဂဂΛᛁ-ᛁΛᛁ໑ is . . .

 

 

stare and interrogate:

 

version 1.3 (21-song loop)

on: creating a sphere

 

on: alpha-beta and in-reverse

 

on: what to say dictates how its/it's said

Not For "Likes" or Money (contains 'sensitive-censored' content)

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Course Curriculum: Trifecta/Try-perfect/Tripe feck't (Go On, Part 3)

 

        There are no requirements as-to order.  Review Part 2 of the Go On curriculum; or, start Part 1 of the course; or choose to keep wading deeper from this point.  (Forewarning:  the bottom slopes-away quickly and the current sweeps—be prepared to climb out at some point further-along the bank if you aren't experienced.)

 

        This introduces the order and appropriate usage of the basic three Go-On-ing elements:  Brain chemistry [Λ lambda in Greek]; Audio choreography [໑ one in Khmer]; and Visual connectivity [ᛁ isaz in Runic].

 

         For someone to experience the artwork (for the first or-the-umpteenth time) they must understand that every 'medium of recognition-perception' is a feedback loop—located approximately at the midpoint beneath their dark lenses and betwixt their padded headphones.  While eyes, ears, noses, tongues, and fingertips have all grown accustomed to radar-antenna duty—scanning distant horizons for threats, foods, and mates—brain programming has "manned" the war-room, logistics-center, and marketing department.
 
        Brains require an incentive to turn attention away from war-room/logistics/marketing.  To focus (successfully) inward, brains need assurances that the radar-antenna will only temporarily be placed in stand-by mode.  And.  White&Grey both want an excuse to take it easy and not work so hard; the Matter couple is all-about economical utilization of resources.  Require/Need/Want.
 
        As outlined in Pallet/Pallet/Palette on the Third Test Page, after swallowing 30mg of CBD and 30mg of D8 with caffeine, vitamins, and minerals (Λ)—get comfortable somewhere secure-able and non-disturb-able, for a minimum of four hours.  Close your eyes and listen to the 'aural-preface' of this choreography (໑).  The first hour-or-two is not geared towards visual connectivity (ᛁ).

 

 

 

 

 

         At this point, you should begin to engage all-three basic Go On elements:  brain, eyes (ᛁ), and ears.

        At some point (now is always the best time to choose to . . .) begin to listen to a 21-song-loop you have designed for yourself, based on your level of awareness and personal-preponderances.

        Of course this requires headphones; it could not be Go On-ing without headphones going on.

        If you have not yet attained sufficient ccc-level (composer/choreographer/chemist) it is encouraged to attempt to last-thru the entirety of the two-hour Version 1.4 of Go On artwork experience.

        Let your you relax [it is only four hours] the world, from your POV, is safe [it will resume sooner than you will soon want it to] this experience is a necessary (am I the only one who spells it with an un-necessiary I?) respite from the weight of the decades . . . to come . . . before . . . explore . . .  

        These visuals are merely safe, experimental, place-holders.  Your imagination is yours to do with as you desire.

        Optional-additional equipment:  KASINA-brand of light-therapy and media-storage device; virtual reality headset; notebook / 3x5 cards & pen; et cetera.

        Classroom-students:  Your homework assignment is to describe (in any means you prefer) what connections-new-to-you were strongly stamped into your memory from the third-act [between songs 14 and 21] and how your note-taking was involved or avoided.

        Extra-credit:  Incorporate something from this "brain hack" art-tickle into your 3rd-Act connection description:

 

Now, take a short break from Go On-ing:

ccc in 2-D

laugh instead of just giggle

an old story that smacks (hard)

Third Palate/Pallet/Palette Test Page

     🠜 Previous page

       

        Cannabinoids, commonly referred to as CBD (preceded by a C inside triangle symbol)—which you thought was vaguely similar to a copyright circle-c mark but different—was followed by a lengthy quantity of dense information.  You considered that it came-off-as an, 'Everything You Wanted To Know About Hemp But Were Afraid To Ask' research-paper, teaching the reader how to efficiently determine their POE (personal optimal efficacy).

 

        First-up, you scanned a chart.  It reflected 'elapsed time' on the x-axis, and 'milligram dose' on the y-axis:  The lowest dose was annotated: "under this level of bio-availability, desired effects are inconsequential" and, adjacent to the highest: "desired effects become rapidly rendered un-witness-able due to functional-memory loss."  The sentence, "any DBM (dose beyond maximum) increases sleep's on-set, depth, and length" stuck with you; as did the phrase, "reduces the optimal desired-effect window".

 

        The description caused you to imagine a map depicting the path of the moon's shadow during a total solar eclipse and your mind wandered [I was intrigued so didn't interrupt you] . . . looking up from the shadow's center-line allowed witnessing (for the longest time possible) the sky turning instantly blue-to-black, all the night's stars, and the stark-white corona around Sol . . . any distance from center-line decreased witness-time . . . even slightly outside the edge of the moon's umbra and the dimming sun of a partial eclipse was no-different than a cloudy day . . . go too-far and there would be nothing to witness . . . nothing to interrupt your routine.

 

        The card provided more details; more than you required.  The words "active meditation" were too-frequent, you thought.  So, you skimmed-over reasons why edible cannabinoids from hemp provided a 'Goldilocks Effect' (and not its "party-sister" plant); how liver metabolism allowed "stacking" and an "entourage effect"; as well as the various active meditation failures, when CBD derivatives were inhaled and absorbed into the bloodstream through the lungs.  You stopped skimming on the results of other hallucinogenics, which were considered to be, "contra-indicated for achieving the desired-level of (again! you scowled inwardly) active meditation".

        You re-focused on the descriptions of "Delta" (which you learned was marketing-speak for 'man-made derivative compound').  After reading, you understood how specific molecules were distilled from the oil extracted from hemp, and why D8, D9, D10, and THC0 (et cetera) were legal and internet-available.  

        Further, you learned the difference between 'cbd isolates' and 'full' or 'broad' spectrum's [I saved that one in long-term:  Full provided the most noticeable entourage effects, Broad was 'middle of the road', and isolates were isolated alone, without entourage.]

 

        Small-print (which was not actually small) described why it "should be considered mandatory" to abstain at least 48-hours prior from drug use (prescribed or recreational, including but-not-limited-to: tobacco, alcohol, mood stabilizers, and micro-dosing).  Since you'd already been warned of this—and could easily comply—this didn't cause you to pause.

 

        Then the paper-card described the capsules in the next four depressions:

 

                Manufacturer's serving-size: two capsules; Go On Artwork dose: one capsule

                of the cbdMD-brand:  Focus which contains:

 

                    Broad-spectum CBD-----------------< 35mg (33.8mg exactly)

                    Vitamin B12---------------------------120mcg (or 0.000120mg)

                    Magnesium L-Threonate--------------900mg

                    Alphina Root extract------------------300mg

                    Bacopa Herb extract-------------------75mg

                    Toothed Clubmoss herb extract-------20mg                                                           

 

 

                Manufacturer's serving-size: one capsule; Moderate Experimenter's (ME): one capsule;

                Intoxicant Novice's (IN): skip this capsule; Risk Taker's (RT): two capsules

                of the cbdMD-brand:  Curcumin CBD oil which contains:

 

                    Broad-spectrum CBD----------------------< 28mg (27.5mg exactly)

                    Turmeric Root extract-----------------------200mg

                    Piperine (extracted from black pepper)----15mg                                                                  

 

                Recommended dose for IN's and ME's:  30mg;

                Recommended dose for RT's:  60mg;

                    Flavored gelatin containing:  Full-spectrum D-8 hemp extract:

                        Green 15mg / Yellow 30mg / Orange 45mg / Purple: 60mg

 

        The small-print (which was actually a smaller font) explained that a double-dose made the plateau longer, a slightly more intense experience-at-peak, and only begins to dissipate after 6 hrs, instead of the 'normal' 4 hrs.  Usual side-effects (dry-mouth, lethargy, imagination-boost) were magnified and full-recovery could last 12+ hours instead of the 'normal' 8 hours.

 

        You glanced at the depression containing colored gelatin's in front of you.  [Even though you strongly suspected that this was a test-point, I still tamped-down your temptation to take more than the novice's yellow by reflecting on the image of the administrator politely asking you to leave as they stood and escorted you from their house.]  You continued to read to the bottom of the page.

 

                Recommended dose for IN's:     None;  

                Recommended dose for ME's:  < 10mg (8.5mg exactly) taken in two hours

                Recommended dose for RT's:   < 20mg (17mg exactly)  taken in four hours

 

                    Flavored gelatin containing:  Full-spectrum D-9 hemp extract:

                        Red 5mg / Blue 10mg 

 

        The last words on the front of the paper read, "take only what applies from the four depressions as described above."  Pocket-sized containers for the D9 are available from the administrator.

 

        You took only what was expected.  

 

        You flipped the paper over as the administrator re-filled your tea and slid another packet of yellow sweetener towards the edge of your cup with a nod-smile.      

 

 Go On:

First Test page

 

Book Cover

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