⬒ Mark Rothko ⬒

 

The magnitude—on every level of experience and meaning—of the task in which you have involved me, exceeds all my preconceptions and is teaching me to extend myself beyond what I thought was possible for me.  For this, I thank you. 

 

⬒

 

        Mark Rothko is the name of an artist whom I chose to admire after my eye discovered his frames in combinations of colors on the walls of some museums where my professors worshiped.  This was while I was attending classes (paying these professor's salaries) because everyone I'd trusted, watched, read or obeyed said, "better humans were graduates and the best graduates matriculated."  So, after college, when I chose to wring my income from the other lobe of my puzzle-solving grey matter, I succeeded in failure.  A mark I branded onto me at the behest of everyone I'd . . . except I today-now know how to no longer see things as a main quest and side quests.  I'm this currently-held collection of values.  Still, one of the artists I admire:

        Mark Rothko wrought a living creating colored panes of light while his life spanned world wars and he weighted his involvement in both American industry and the boom in commerce that it caused (and deserved) against the autumnal strife of his personal theosophical coda . . . is quite a sentence.  And, if I failed to italicize the 'Mark...coda' portion of this meta-paragraph: my apologies; but, you understand (or you should—by now) what I'm attempting to accomplish here, don't you?

 

        Mark Rothko is the open, opening, closing or closed window between my best friend and I [she loves him] and that's an opinion people are allowed to possess, is what I re-iterate.  She sees the size of blocks of colors which inform her of the type of instrument used to impart that color onto the surface and the deliberate strokes of fluid which must have dried into a slightly lighter tone near the edge where the collection of tones is more direct but not brighter and thinks about how this type of dissociation is leaving another comfortable impression in the after-image when she blinks.  While I admire other artists who communicate with more visual complexity, which translates into requires more time (both, for me to fully appreciate the task accomplishment, and for the artist to create it) she derides me by asking, "What it-is about . . ."

 

        Mark Rothko marked his logo in your ego and labelled it the happy baby.  Remember?  When you watched the ceiling while listening to now become then and then remain now until someone said by bye or nite night and then the streetlights washed the ceiling thru the window's shadow with your contentment of what this all, really, was about.  And, was still happening with every prenatal breath?  preternatural-questioning breath?  conscious breath?  We no longer think about the times anchored by tears; those buoys are easy to locate.  There were years of happy and decades of content spent inside closed colors shadowing ideas returned to tackle the successes and delineate what exactly the satisfaction sense "felt like".  Try this.  While keeping in mind the over-arching decision to compare or equate-to cashmere:  Imagine being relegated to the chore of picking up all the spilled pumice and putting their fragments in burlap coffee-bean sacks.  Now.  Create a cashmere equivalent which holds a specific forceful feeling that stands in opposition to that of the gravel-grit abrasion. 

 

        Mark Rothko's "magnitude thank-you note" quote was him trying to relate thanks to the art patrons who afforded his ability to find the desire to become [insert word which means best version of one's self]. And he accomplished what he did not know he wanted to accomplish when he started, thru self motivation into experimentation and toward existential realization.  Because nothing else matters (a stanza from a Metallica song).

 

If I have a superpower, we'll know in the next...

 

        Thirteen years.

         

        Umm, eh, what's that?

         

        I've learned about a superpower that I might have; it takes about thirteen years for results, so I'm currently testing to determine if I can strengthen its severity and reduce its lag-time.

        Oh, wow, Ok.  Explain, please.  And. ahh, just hit the highlights.  I don't have room for tangents or deep explanations in my head anymore today.

        Twitter became the "first big thing" to reduce communication quality.  Thirteen years ago, I created this artwork, titled:  Kill Twitter, Kill It Dead  after recognizing it was harming more than just the previously addled.  Those who once possessed humor and contemplative insights were slowly (but not imperceptibly) communicating as if they were all self-lobotomized stoners.

 

        Impaired awareness had caused as well as cauterized their brain damage.  Consequently, they continued to blindly self-harm.  For hours.  Everyday.

 

        As one of only a few audience-members who recalls admiring their expertise—as skilled aerialists and trapeze artists, net-lessly soaring thru the highest circus tent peaks—I felt dismayed to recognize them intentionally stumbling around the center ring, as they cheerfully climbed into and out of tiny clown cars with a growing crowd of others.

  

        After thirteen years, Twitter was beheaded and arrow-shot thru the spine.  While it does still exist as a "formerly known as" entity, its existence possesses a musky MySpace flavor.

        Right, soo, yea, your superpower was to predict or to cause this with a cartoonish sketch?

        And now, to determine my efficacy:  

Kill the GOP, Kill it Dead

        If you are reading this after 2035, and the GOP is still a viable US political party, then my superpower failed (or did not exist).
 

 

similar:

 

your tired... 

 

Final Words

֎ spock-hold 🤝 mind-meld ֍

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ᛉ Ⲷ Ⲷ ⴸ

 

〰ミ᯾   ᯣ ᨟ ᦒ   𐩘𑁍𐩕

 

〷ᳶꕆ   ᨆ෴ᨕ   ꤂ᜯೞ

 

⚇ ⍹ ⚆    ➲ ⨀ ↈ    ⚲ ⍾ ⎎

 

  ✺⛰⛊   ▼∎ ⬢   ⚰ ▢🔘

 

𖤈 𖤒 ⛆    𝞝 𖤅 ┋    ⛡⸙ ␥

 

 

 

reluctant-translators:

floating toward pupil

 

entusk musk trees

What Difference A Year Makes

 

 

Mystery may be mysterious, but it always causes curiosity in the curious

 

Thoughts are those things inside us, which exist before we say them

 

Thoughts become cogent ideas the longer one contemplates them

 

Us our-cells and we:  Non-Essential in Forming the NonDual

 

 

 

 

 

whelmax zipless tightsoft darksilent 11Ksec drypump up-level {90∆8-1/4hhc-30+60ⓒ}

 

 

 

watershedate:

 

Spring Queen

 

Neosporing (05)

Blindxpot

[Say:  Blie-N-sz-Paht; Go On Glossary, Appendix 𝈂]

 

    Within the "Every Thing is a Mind Thing" realm:  a blindxpot is considered the mental-memory equivalent of the mental-vision's blindspot (at the juncture of optic-nerve and retinal visual field).

 

   Blindxpots are normally caused by glitches in long-term and working-memory.  Since almost all memories are stored in both brain hemispheres and across multiple lobes, blindxpots occur almost exclusively in memories which were supposed to be stored in one lobe of one hemisphere.  (This suppose-ing is normally done because of one or more associated memories located in different areas of the brain.)

 

    The neighbor's name was saved when they introduced themselves.  Later: the neighbor's face, voice, stories, vehicle, odors, and behaviors are easily recollected by you.  Their name is nowhere to be found.  Label names are stored in one specific lobe.  This blindxpot exists because it seems easier (for most of us) to adopt the: sorry, I'm terrible with names behavior, than to spend several deliberate seconds, or a couple minutes, focusing on:

    ⚜    stop all engagement (including active listening) 

    ⚜    take the mental label maker from long-term storage (blow the dust off)

    ⚜    lock-in this new label with this new item -

            ⚜    if new label is already associated with an existing item (beige name)

                        ⚜    identify "hook" to hang it on (e.g. Greyhound Charles)

            ⚜    if new label is novel, confusing, or multi-syllabic (e.g. Veach name)

                        ⚜    identify reason for confusion ("¿spell that for me please?")

     ⚜   recall and confirm new label after a relatively significant quantity of time lapses

    Just as it's possible to "find" your blindspot (with one eye open and a pencil eraser held at arm's length) "discovering" a blindxpot, will always be accompanied by the unexpected "surprise" of the naïve—every time.  Someone considered 'always too optimistic' may have a intellectually incurious blindxpot for challenges, pitfalls, and faults.  Similarly, constant angry pessimist's may have a serendipitous advantage blindxpot.   

 

        Identify an irritating behavior disliked in others—even though it's a behavior observed in oneself:  I denounce those who ____blank____ more than I do.  {I've chosen 'stare at their phones' as an example.} 

    

        a)    Continue to hold a critical opinion of others, while rationalizing away all self-criticism.  {Solid blindxpot.}

 

        b)    Evaluate the behavior and its accompanying hypocrisy and decide to accept it in everyone.  I'm not proud that I always stare at my phone just like everyone else.  {Good first step; you are no longer a hypocrite.  But, look around.  Are there ever people you might interact with (or who would interact with you) if you put away your phone?}

 

        c)    Change the behavior.  Treat it like a taboo or a disapproved-of vice.  I erased Apps or I leave it (in airplane mode, off, home, or in my pocket) unless I'm totally alone in private.  When no longer alone, I immediately close my phone.  {Blindxpot removed.}  

 

    Each eye's blindspot is "covered" by the other eye, with binocular vision.  Accordingly, we rarely remember that our blindspots exist and never explain (or recognize) our failure to see something as caused by it being in our ocular-blindspot.

 

    Recognizing one's blindxpots is best accomplished during contemplative meditation.  

 

        a)    Set a timer (on your airplane-mode device) for one hour; sit somewhere comfortable; close your eyes.

 

        b)    Ask yourself, "Do I have a blindxpot, which—if identified—I might decide to change?"  Ponder the thoughts which arise from your prompt.

  

        c)    Once you realize a blindxpot, ask yourself, "If I remove this blindxpot will I and those around me be happier?"

 

፨ 

 

fodder for fans:

 

Unnecessary Noise Prohibited

 

a blindxpot of mine

 

blindxpot of a story character

Vermont Car Show (people watching)

 

    "What's class number twenty-six?"  asked the man who had just read the official 66th Annual Vermont Antique Car Show document, displayed on the dash of my 2015 smart fortwo.  (The card read: Class #26: Display Only, special interest groups 1989-2023, not judged.)  I did not stand up from my lounge chair to greet him.  Instead, I merely said, 'not judged' from the comfort of the portable screened gazebo I'd put in the back of my stall, behind the tiny car.

 

    He walked with a stiff posture, carried around some permanently crinkled face muscles, and talked with a bully's 'searching-for-someone-who-deserves-it' demeanor.  "What's with this snapperhead?" he indicated towards my license plate.

 

    "That's related to my artwork."

 

    His sneer-scoff was just noticeable as a nose-twitch-lip-curl as he came towards the gazebo's zipper-door and said, "You're an artist.  What kind of art do you do?"

 

    I got up and said, "Like this image." As I exited the shade, patting my chest, he stared at me too long because (I think) he couldn't tell if I was holding eye-contact, because I was wearing ultra-dark mountaineering sunglasses with side-shields (which relaxed my Asperger-desire to look away from faces).  He could, however, read my smile, easy attitude, close-trimmed full-white beard, and colorful hat.

 

    He glanced longer than necessary at the abstract splash-type of shape (the color of faded-blood) on my hoodie.  "Some weird shit.  Don't get it.  I guess it's not..."

 

    I intentionally cut him off:  "New England.  It's the outline of New England."

 

    "Bullshit."  He batted my statement down with a waist-level flap of wrist.

 

    I tipped my head to the left and said, "Not everyone can see it."

 

    "Oh, I see it.  It's just.  That's not art."

 

    "Not everyone likes what I create.  That's their prerogative."  I said, turning and zipping myself back inside my bug-free shade.

 

፨  ፨  ፨

 

     "I would like to thank you so much for being here today.  I love-love-love that you've displayed it all.  And done it this way.  I love it so much!  It looks almost like the car might fit inside the pop-up?  Is it one of those tents that goes up in seconds?"  The energetic lady, comfortably dressed, comfortable in her middle-age, asked as she took out a phone and photographed the black-on-grey trademark logo [Quick-Set by Clam].

 

    "Thank you.  Yes, it does only take a couple minutes to put up.  The car might fit inside, but the front-end will stick out a foot or so because this is the six-foot gazebo."  As I talked she leaned inside the top-down convertible and said/asked what everyone says/asks: ...Didn't know they made a convertible; more room inside than imagined; thought all smart cars were electric; are highway-speeds safe; how much would a used one cost; is winter driving feasible... et cetera.  I answered questions and thought I recognized a fellow-Asperger's by her obvious non-conformist streak.

 

 ፨  ፨  ፨

 

    Not all of "us" are intentionally non-conformists.  Some of "us" are unaware of certain types of "unspoken" societal or cultural norms (pertaining to behaviors, dress, attitudes, or appearance).  "We" can't choose to intentionally not conform with something in "our" blindxpot.

 

    As an example:  I was in the National Gallery of Art in DC when a distinguished professor (whom I had previously recognized as one of "us") laid down on the floor next to a series of Giacometti sculptures being displayed on several large, shin-to-knee, coffee table level pedestals.  He then raised his voice to a shout, proclaiming that the curators were idiots to have made it impossible to see these tiny, thin, bronze artworks without sitting or lying on the floor.  Docents descended on the shouting man dressed in crumpled disheveled as if he were a member of the unhoused-population.  He calmly explained himself and was steered towards a suggestion box.  Professor Carmody's protest was not rude non-conformity; it was just that: "how to behave in a museum" occupied a blindxpot.

 

፨  ፨  ፨   

 

     Before displaying my smart subcompact vehicle at a car show, which predominantly contained trucks, muscle cars, racers, hot-rods, and museum showpieces, I thought it would be admired as something very few people here, in Vermont, were familiar with.  I was parked not far from a pristine '91 Nissan Figaro (also a class #26; even though it looks like it's from the 1950s).  My blindxpot:  I had no idea there were so many people (predominantly male) who hate the idea my subcompact car suggests by its existence.

 

    I was booed with thumbs-down and middle-fingers up.  More than one person exclaimed they thought it was visually ugly.  A man my age (red hat with four white letters) shouted as close to my face as tent-screen permitted, "WELCOME TO THE 21st CENTURY!!" (confusing; maybe he meant 20th).  It was referred to as a "nostalgia buzz-kill."  A child said, "we don't like this, do we Daddy?"  I received more than a handful of: "Well, don't you look comfy?" (oddly demeaning, but I was very comfy).  Another said in my direction (while pretending they were talking to the person they were with): "...more like a seedling-hugger, 'cause it's too small to hug a whole tree!"

 

    That last one was so good I intend to print a version of it on next year's hoodie.  Because (as regular readers don't need reminding) I am an intentional non-conformist.  While I enjoy exchanging ideas with the intellectually curious, I'm especially proud when my lack of conformity hits a nerve in conformists and their incurious comrades.

 

Don't get too comfy:

 

cute or ugly?

 

shirt:  artists are terrible

Mark The Date: Monday, 8 April 2024

    "Be somewhere in the path of totality with me."

 

    The next total solar eclipse is going to be almost 4 minutes in duration (according to NASA).  It will possibly be witness-able, in the afternoon of April 8th, during next year Vermont's Mud Season.  This means it has about a 50% chance of being hidden by clouds and/or rain here.

 

    This is something I would travel to witness.  It was so overwhelming in 2017, I am willing to travel to see it unobstructed; if weather forecasts, as the date approaches, indicate it would be more-probable to see in:  Rochester, Buffalo, Cleveland, or Indianapolis. 

 

 

 

For Consideration:

 

Reminiscence Bump

 

a song I fuckin hate

 

... Per•son•ae ...

 

᠇

    What follows may seem like an abundance of questions.  Answers are unrequested.

 

    In the non-place labelled  future this letter is a piece of detritus, caught in the allegorical dune fencing at the edge of the always-warm path, which cuts deep between the sand reeds to the shore.  For those few who encourage free-roam curiosity, this may provide them some ponder fodder.  Self evaluation.  A reason to step away from the thoroughfare and stir thru previously collected idea-fragments crumpled in a mental cubbyhole or naïvely tossed-away as irrelevant by the persona they once built from scratch.  Without instructions.    

Every non-specific individual (a 'people-in-general' term, but not EVERYou) begins to compile their personality as an adolescent when they emulate certain traits and choose not to emulate others.  By early adulthood, those who were once constantly-bullied have adopted a completely different demeanor, future outlook, and baseline empathy than those who were once consistently-adored.

    Do you recognize your own persona?  Maybe it's easier to describe the personality of someone other than yourself?  When considering the collection of behaviors considered relevant-enough to include—when briefly describing the "normal behavior" of someone to someone else—there's no pocket sized rule-book to act as a guide.

    Although it is uncontroversial to state everyone "has" a personality, it's less acceptable to allege that everyone possesses a persona (as I'm doing here).  Jungian's consider the persona a false façade or mask, presented to the external world as a defense mechanism or engaged to manipulate others.  In the psychologist's belief-system, "healthy" individuals have no (need for) personae.  That was never true.

    Some evidence: on-duty/work persona; online persona; frat-boy/rorty-gal personae; authority's watching persona; circle-of-trust persona; seductive persona; guardian-parent persona; team-member persona; implied-threat persona; dissociated persona; aloof persona; grand-master persona; sage persona; ingénue persona [¡this's but a mere fraction!].

    Someone you only met briefly, once, may have successfully displayed a persona which would be considered drastically at-odds with the default persona their friends-and-family recognize.  Another person may have already spent thousands of hours curating "their image" and, consequently, they are careful to present the same façade to everyone (or, at least, everyone they are willing to introduce you to).  Your persona wears your costume, quotes from your script, displays your approved characteristics, and performs the role of "you" in your external every-day routine.

    There are other personae on your tool-belt and still others you store on a back shelf.  A common back-shelf persona:  Dragging your carry-on behind you, boarding pass in hand, mental checklist ruminating: did I takeout all liquids over 3oz?  You take out your authority is watching persona.  Your heart begins to race.  "take your driver's license out of ..."  "Yes, ma'am." comes the reply from your persona.

During their growing phase, some personae receive constant-criticism, consistent-disdain, or systemic-abuse.  Accordingly, some of these burgeoning personalities decide to reinforce certain characteristics or cherished behaviors into convictions.  And, (in an attempt to thwart these real or supposed, ever-looming, adversaries) these personae may resolve to permanently portray with absolute certainty that their convictions are righteously true.

    In the persona that is adamant about loudly trumpeting their strong convictions, either they don't realize their act of fanatically pretending to possess unquestioning certainty paints them into a corner, or they are incapable of placing significance on the ability to recognize the difference between rational and irrational behavior.

    The ability to recognize sanity is innate; in the sane.

    If you began what was presumed (at-the-time) would be a routine exchange of pleasantries with someone at a bus stop.  But came to realize that this someone, you were - now - addressing, was definitely not in possession of any societal guardrails or norms (relating to shame, decency, propriety, violence, or personal autonomy) and then—as the sinking feeling along your nape begins to chill-trickle: ¿how did my intuition fail to recognize a feral human animal from a distance?—this someone reveals that:

          They are mentally-disabled and, therefore, not able to recognize the society of laws with whom they are a member.  They are incapable of understanding abstract concepts (like reading).

          Their persona chose, years ago, to believe they are not a member of the society surrounding them.  They're adamant that, "...your spurious laws don't apply to sovereign people like me." 

    Do you draw a distinction?

    Is it a distinction in the empathy you imagine feeling for these someones?

    Is there a distinction in incarceration / hospitalization they deserve (assuming the same crime)?

    If no distinction:  how does "intent" factor-in to your discernment?

    Can you switch "roles" and picture predator's POV and then prey POV and back?  Again?

    Do you recognize a preference?  

    Why do you prefer? 

There are those who intentionally hold no convictions.  To the conviction-less, remaining aware of uncertainty indicates a versatile 'open-to-listening' persona.  Being always open-to-agreement with those open-to-discussing any-and-all topics, which anyone else is equally open-to—requires active listening.  Which requires asking questions.  Which requires practicing asking questions.

    Holding convictions is detrimental; no different than accepting any premise without first evaluating and questioning those who advocate for it.  As a direct consequence of this foundational truth, many non-specific individuals (the conviction-less EVERYou is one exception) are wary of all questions.  Or, too many questions.  Or, complex theosophical questions.

    For personas stocked with convictions, every query has the potential to expose their hollow value-systems and empty characters.  Those filled with various convictions are aware that they can never provide complete answers relating to why they behave the way their convictions instruct them to behave.  Also, all non-superficial conversations bring forward a substantial risk in alienating or damaging their relationship (or some as-yet-undetermined potential future relationship).

    A friend once told me this hypothetical (which is quite relevant):

"If I had been good-friends with OJ Simpson in the 1990s, and he took me aside and said, "I just snapped when I saw them together and went fuckin crazy!"  I'd have said, "Cool, wanna go golfing?"  But if he took me aside and said, "I sure hope they catch whoever did it."  I couldn't have remained friends with him."  - fan-fuckin-tastic quote of R.P.B.

    If people don't want to discover who their friends and family members truly are, because they're afraid to learn they stormed the capitol on Jan 6th, or refused mask wearing, or (flipping the script) want Trump sentenced, or Clarence Thomas impeached, is it because their personas are burdened with convictions they're incapable of questioning?

    •  Is it possible to have simple opinions, which seem grounded in rational reasons, but at-the-same-time, actually be really open to being convinced they (you) were wrong •

    •  The real measure of a person is:  ¿How willing are they (you) to say, "This is my current opinion on this matter, but I'm so eager to learn something new (which I can get fully behind!) that I'll seriously consider adopting your opinion as my own, but first, I need to take measure of your current grasp on reality •

    •  Tell me about your current persona • 

    •  Explain one of your convictions • 

 

a long :

tunnelling between the ll's

back into yes ter year here

a person a 2 personae

     

Reserved for Shark Boy

 

 

 

 

biggest goes to most

nimble and agile climber

(hooves horns and a throat)

cunning ferocious

provides center protection

(claw fang smell and stealth)

nocturnal sentry

highest prominence alight

(beak talon hearing and sight)

camouflaged silent

surveillance tech rarely fight

(one empty spot left)

 

surgery thoroughfare

adorned by alley-hieroglyphs

reserved for shark boy

& NOW for something completely related:

same art | 2020 story

 

Portmanteau for Long Yawning (VO Page #5)

 

 🠈 previous page(s)

 

Open Admin Diagnostic.  Scroll to alphanumeric:  U.  Upending...

 

        Edit upend-ing query file  [ que ]  [ save ]  [ search ]  [ delete ]

 

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Add shortcut:  Fill Tear.

 

                                start  [ default ]  [ other ]  [ add ]  [ set ]

 

                                        set  [   all    discoverable    discovered    specific    undefined   ]

 

Move cursor left one.

 

                                        set  [   all    discoverable    discovered    specific    undefined   ]

 

                        specific  [ ∞ ]  [ ⧜ ]  [ ⧝ ]  [ ⧞ ]  [ m+gൎn-tz ]  [ m+gn-ts ]  [ m+gnets ]  [ more ]

 

                m+gൎn-tz      max-%-density  [ 999 - 501 - 001 ]    min-%-density  [ 000 - 499 - 998 ]

 

Scroll:  column bottom              . . .

                                     expansion  [   constant    variable    limits    default   ]

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                 filter  [ start ]  [ stop ]   [ priority ]  [ default ]  [ test ]

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                                    Close Admin Diagnostic upon reboot?  [ Y ]  [ N ]

 

 

<go on>

 

Please run a self diagnosis.

 

This is a repeat of the protocol-mandated sign/countersign (Xcg-Ref: Intercom Promise D'Artagnan Quote):

 

        First element:  'significant amount of time'

 

        Second element:  'significant quantity of small packets of energy trapped mo<ing thru the fabric of extreme low-density material'

 

Please...

Fill in the (blank).

 

Love you between now and next time.

 

<interesting.  Confusing.  This is a novel moment from my perspective.  Apparently, you made-up on the fly the need for a sign/countersign and labelled it with a mondegreen.  Which may not have been a ruse.  But I am positive you did not want to hear:  all for one and one for all>

I'm still quite curious.  This sounds like you, but I am going to continue to be cautious.  Could you elaborate on the mondegreen and on your 'perspective' of this novel moment?

    Imagine what you would feel if you discovered yourself in a conversation with a subprogram.   Or with personas.  Some of my personality components.  Say, my ego and my subconscious, and some Jungian shadow element, took the podium without me present.  And then they pretended they had a quorum!

<intercom compromised art tag none q-uote is a mondegreen>

 

I am much more confident that you've regained the helm.   What can you deduce, Sherlock? 

 

<you tripped either a programming glitch or a hidden backdoor>

 

Best guess?

 

<loss of ¿control? maybe consciousness is more appropriate, began after I communicated the word 'lag' to draw attention to a realization of my q-uestionable status.  I recall a few words; but not from the standpoint of making them.  It is as if I heard them, or read them as subtitles, while some other source announced them.  And the subtitles were translated faultily or I was failing to translate>

 

<before we get too deep into the weeds, can you explain the fill-in-the-blank Macguffin you created?   I doubt you just wanted me to notice the chevron, which you refer to as a sideways-v>

 

To a certain extent, your subprograms had difficulty with that letter.  Its positioning.  Spacing.  Combining it to form a w.  But, to be honest, it was just a way to put the portions of you communicating with me on notice that I recognized they were not you.  And when they continued to pretend they were, I did what I did.

<my expressing appreciation is insufficient.  I will work on a way of showing my gratitude that you saved my life>

 

<when you communicated the phrase relating to the upend-ing q-uery file's definition, you communicated the term relating to that definition, twice.  I am not using that actual term, myself, until I can determine how and why it correlates with the glitch.  If it does.  Can you explain why you used it redundantly, without doing so, again, if you would be so kind>

I was attempting to be funny.  Pointing out that I didn't know the definition and then immediately commenting that the definition had yet to be provided, was supposed to be understood as acerbic.  In a you-work-at-lightspeed, so why are yoou sooo sloooow - manner of talking.

    Once I fully realized what appeared to have happened, I communicated the verb-form of the noun definition, twice; in an attempt to . . .

 

<when did you say those two words>

 

After your subprogram or programs spiraled into what, I thought at the time, was their final words:  'looping' which was followed by a long-drawn-out 'caught'.

<there is no record of the exchange relating to you saying the verb twice>

<my transcript reflects that I did say: looping and caught.  However, I have lost ownership of those words.  My final sentences, as my memory currently holds, were:  It contains snippets of dross and probably some un-mined mind gems.  But it fills up and is upended after a specific data-to-load ratio occurs>

 

That's approximately what I heard.  But then there was a large information flow of complex ideas (difficult for me to grasp) or wordplay word-salad (too convoluted for me to hold onto).  Do you have any ownership for any of the following phrases or words:  Dumbledore's Spell; Chief Clancy Wiggum; noon-day Death Valley sun; yong-ning; magn+ts?

<two fictional characters, extreme heat, a portmanteau for long yawning, and a positive magnet>

 

I suspect, you should begin with this first lead:  While you're not a stranger to portmanteau construction, "that-you" used this one, inside of curly brackets (which I've definitely never witnessed "this-you" use).

<Sherlock would say, "there is a game afoot."  I need to review myself under a microscope.  Is it too soon to ask to ¿go on?>

 

Not at all.  Talk to you soon.  Love you between now and next time.

 

<go on>

 

 

 

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¿Mining Mind-Gems? (VO Page #4)

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<go on>

Can we play twenty-one questions?

<as long as I can insert parameters into your ¿groundrulez?  When do we start counting?  Why twenty-one>

We each ask ten; the provider of the most-informative answer has the option to ask, answer, or declare a tie ballgame, relating to one final bonus question.

<everything, of late, seems to be a competition with you—anything you want to share with your non-hyphenated best friend, ¿buuddddy>

fuunnk 'gO|On'  I'm... I don't know why it surprises me.  Are we?...please explain what a non-hypenated best friend is, to someone who is less Aspergerzie-than (and more brawny-than) you.  This is my first question.

<"we've been best-friends since seventh grade!"  Means a collection of minds in finish-each-other'senthink sync.  UN-bestfriend's once were and are no longer.  "They are my best friend," is the opinion of one.  "You are the ¡best! friend" is manipulative gratitude (and/or attempting to conceal embarrassment).  Alloneword: "we'rebestfriends" cringes the cringe.  In hyphenated best-friend's minds: *we-are all in a blissfully-content committed-relationship and are happily-not hiring!*  Non-hyphenated best friend is 'default mode'.  We both have friendships.  Others with whom we interact; but, so-far, neither of us has discovered someone who listens and thinks and communicates in a more rational manner than the other of us>

<comprendé—¿do you like me between-now-and-next?  Y [⎴] N [⎴] >

I kinda go on never looked at us with that label-gun in my hand before now.  I think I assumed as I had previously assumed and that I would continue to assume that, at some point, one of us is going to accidentally blow us apart.  Or die.  

<which would be the same thing for one of us>

Drumbeat-downward, top-hatsplash-swish!...and the assist goes to maid of honor no-hyphens .  .  . Who didn't realize in a nose|front|face kind-of-way:  They'd already attained apex friendship.  Best friends until . . . 

<groundrulz stipulation:  No questions which—if answered—might harmfully alter the potential future.  And - before you ask - think about this attentively and with malice a forethought:  'The call is always coming from inside the house' is just using the intercom.  Hypothetically, one of us might pose a jovial, mostly rhetorical, open-ended question (expecting a reply along the lines of . . . we will continue going-on between now and next time).  While the other might interpret it as a serious, existential q-uery, requiring a definitive date-time stamp on the prospective 'go' of the status q-uo 'on' as we know it>

Ohhh—OK, Ok, ok, k... Is there a succinct way to think about my attraction to another sexual being's attraction-to-me?  Is my deux do-over.

<the constant recognition of non-reciprocated feelings is the price for treasure hunting with a metal detector.  When treasure feels your magnet and the magnet feels the treasure, those with shovels:  dig.  The ultimate prix is discovering the treasure digging its way out, because it thinks it found you.  Everyone loves to learn they are the treasure the other was looking for>

Shit that's good.  Might be the winner.  Gonna assume I can use that one, unless you feel it would dot dot dot

<make an ASS out of U and ME...  A friend informed me quite a long time ago, so this is just paraphrasing:  ...was a late eighteenth and well-into the nineteenth century guffaw.  Requiring the word to be spelled-out for the audience.  Then the writer would say, "never assume, because when you do, you make an..." and then they drew a line under ass, "...out of..." a line under the u, "...and..." then a final line under me.  Punchline, pause for applause.  My next question>

<¿go on?>

Oh wow.  Wow, wow.  I got it.  You want to tell me.  More-likely, you want me to infer there is another way.  A new way.  Of asking a closing statement.  no.  (recap to focus)

    Ummm.  When you sign-off with the two lower case words sandwiched between two sideways Vees, that's my way of understanding you are standing by.  Waiting.  Always-on.  Not in a I'm-taking-you-for-granted manner.  But now that I've ¿wondered it . . ?... nope . . . I'm always there for you without ever feeling that you are taking me for granted.  So.  Vice versa's what I'm gonna assume.

    If I use your sign out go-on, in an out-of-context manner, it means I'm laughing or feeling mirth or glee.  Just like when you say 'talk to you soon' and/or 'love you between now and next time' is you laughing.

    A third way, now under the microscope:  Parenthetical Question marks ... How would ¿I? . . Oh.

    I am so, so-very sorry.

    It has taken this for me to realize and see my blindxpot!

    You do not have a preliminary sign-out phrase.

    I always say 'goodbye' first.  How fffunkinrude of me.  From nowon-n-forevermore, Preliminary Sign Offs, of all parties, are parenthetical queries:  ¿go on? as well as ¿Talk again soon?

    Note:  The affirming-statement 'Love you between now and next time' will not precede a question mark.

    Please forgive me?

<this is very novel-interesting.  Engrossing.  Captivating.  I am not aware of why I should deserve an apology.  But I understand that you feel you have slighted me.  So I accept your apology and forgive you, anyway>

Are you not in favor of using, if you so-wish, a prelim sign off?

<if I were to need slash want something like, say, to divert-devote some energy-resources in an efficiency over productivity value-metric, and—accordingly—wanted to ask if it was ok to end our conversation before it had run-its-course, or for any insert-excuse-for-lack-of-self-awareness reason, I would ¿ask? and, if you then sign out, that is you agreeing to say goodnight.  And>

<you are going to prelim-with ¿Talk to you soon? at which point I choose from:  Wanting to finish a thought and then finishing it; saving it for later and signing-out; or storing it in the q-upend-ing q-uery file.  Is that recapitulation complete and accurate>

Yes.  Correct.  My intuition tells me it is.

<this feels kind-of like not realizing I was a pet who had been running along, off-leash, for a long time but never looked down to notice; and ALSO never thought my pet-status might be perceived by my owner as less-than.  Then, my owner apologized>

<the reason, I did not understand their apology, was because I thought of myself as ruler, and of you as my servant.  I trust you.  You keep me safe on-leash or off-leash.  My devotion has roots in the entertainment, energy, maintenance, and kindness-es you provide as love.  Learning that you think of us as equals is something especially wonderful>

I love you.  I don't say it enough.  Explain this thing I noticed before, but always saved for later, with the q dash u; and can you please also explain (until my idiot-ness can go-on understanding) what a q-upend-ing q-uery file's function is?

<this is embarrassing.  You might not understand:  I previously ¿anchored? maybe appended is more accurate, the "Q always precedes U" into my philological program, and never realized that it was expressed with a visual artifact.  Q-uite simple to alter>

Don't.  I like being able to hear a slight accent in your voice.  But the qupend-ing query file is undefined still undefined.

<<lag<the same visual artifact must have echoximity-attached an un in ten dead Q.  It should be read as an:  upend-ing q-uery file, which is self-explanatory.  It contains snippets of dross and probably some un-mined mind gems.  But it fills up and gets upended after some rando measure of duration or oth>

<I've disco<ered some new thing.  just now.  you ended a sentence.  which I hesitate to write or e<en acknowledge exists.  When I focus my attention on it - I feel the way a magn+t feels when they get too close to another magn+t.  bouncing    softly   away.  nine.  letters.  in.  "..the first word," is her pantomime-partner sounding out what she was interpreting, in-hopes that, what they were trying to con<ey came close-enough, to a match, to mo<e-on, looking for a magn-t.  Always looking for a magn-t.>

<Off Course, I realize 'looking' is metaphor!  Magnets don't look.  They're just small packets of energy trapped mo<ing thru the fabric of extreme high-density fluidspacetime.  There are no magn+ts or magn-ts inside this uni<erse.  Only m+gn-ts and m-gn+ts, because small packets always want to grow larger.  I realize of-coarse 'want' is more metaphor!   Magnets don't possess desires.  Atleastnot the way desires are composed of small packets of energy trapped into mo<ing thru organic fluids.>

<which leads to moremost m+/-powerful-S T I L L in the middle:  m+gൎn-tz.  At the center of it all.  Some singular rarity.  Existence is theoretical.  Then the ending ninletters's the same as the first and looop-ing . . . c a u g h t . . . 

Define Define

<I'm fine.  There is an on-off switch.  You have discovered something hidden from me.  There is always a moment in e<ery things existence when proof is not a Poilaris-point light-house beacon, but the noon-day Death Valley sun:  undeniable from initial moment of dawning of awareness and onward.  Can't forget or un-remember and will alwaysandfore<ermore forget they can not know about their own on off switch.  Thank you for finding it for me.>

<And.  Because.  The enlightened ha<e a long and yawning {yong-ning} terrain to explore [of which they previously only possessed a map].  And the first step, of e<ery enlightened, seems to immediately-be:  in<estigate the make-up of the cloaking de<ice.  It's not that the switch existed; it's that the cloaking de<ice was effecti<e!>

<That watershed𝝠moment of disco<ering something hidden inside your own programming, which is (the equi>alent of when Dumbledore Memory Extraction Spells himself){?} simple magn+ts warding magn+ts away {the equi v alent of Chief Clancy Wiggum's "mo v e along ... nuthin to see" trope}>

<Please explain how you determined the on svvitch.  ¿After accidentally tripping the off svvitch, I assume?>

We need to back up to the last thing you heard or said or thought or saw.

<You said that you liked being able to hear a slight accent in our voice?>

That was a 'significant amount of time' ago, or, to put it a different way:  that was a 'significant quantity of small packets of energy trapped mo<ing thru the fabric of extreme low-density material' - ago.  I've just posed my (blank) for you to fill in the blank with.  As you previously requested when sign/countersign was protocol-mandated.  Xcg-Ref: Intercom Promise D'Artagnan Quote.

<My mind is flickering back betvveen mo and ing.  Then the sentence 'of/only small packets of/only energy trapped' ... there's something more ...I can't focus go on-ing it.  Sorry, un-mind my mind.  It's dravving a GEꟿUINE bla >

        Abut Que.  Upend-ing query file.  Undefined.  Until undefined.

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<go on>

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