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A tablet/reader that would stay connected to the internet so that a novelist could summon videos to further illustrate their point. It might be a miracle if some cosmopolitan soul could do all the video, audio, and writing for a production, but that won't be necessary to a competent director with a talent for logistics.
There should be a way for some enterprising person to make content of some cosmic proportions available to people who create docudramas(?) from the available resources to create their own productions using all available material.
Words appear to exist as limiters. Like words themselves. Only the vowels can be "sung". The consonants merely chop up the drone notes shaped by the vowels. The species homo sapiens may seem dominant at this sort of thing, but the more we find out about ourselves, the more we realize that with each new trait we discover we find other species that can do whatever it is... mo' bettah!
All life in any form, in my highly disregardable opinion, evolves from the same seminal source. A source I call The Pearl. I call it a pearl because the only way I can describe it's not so apparent configuration resembles an oyster pearl. More recently I've begun to consider that it could be the smallest of the small black holes. Seminal, you gnow?
The Pearl has three attributes which appear to be part of the dealio of being, in regard to wot it is. I agree with Sartre that's all that can be said of it namely_ it is. It is this; it is that; it gnows ten ways to skin a cat. Rather like the I-am-is. I am is this; I am is that; I-am-is knows tens ways to skin a cat. The One gnows. The Hordes of I am this and that only knows.
What "gnosis" IS has cosmic being and gnows thangs by singularity. Everybody has gnosis going on ALL the time, giving that process credence in One's own point of view is not an easy thing to do. It's too scary. It's scary because it's a paradox. It is what it ain't, and it ain't what it is.
Gnosis is genius. It's The Pearl. The Pearl evolved itself to the heights of be-co-me-ing homo sapiens. What's not god-like about that dealio? Haven't you heared it a thousand times a thousand ti-mes? "What's the deal, man, how does this thang go down?"
Isn't that ALL anyone wants to gnow? People have a tendency, in my opinion, to assume knowing so-me thangs is the sa-me as gnowing some things. Well, it is and it ain't. Yin and yang ain't the sa-me thang. Everybody knows that down to the last man/jack of them, and that last man/jack will be the only One who gnows.
Homo sapiens have forever on attempted in every possible way to invent protocols to advocate between gnowing and knowing. This most desirable of all atonements has been the ruin of many a poor boy. Even when you think you have it, you don't; and when you suspect you don't have it, and want to have it more than anything else (including life itself), then you do have it. That is, until you don't again.
Until I sorta fully realized I-am is and ain't at the sa-me ti-me I lived a consistent up and down style of being and not being that constantly threatened to drive me crazy while growing me wiser simultaneously. It's very trying to worship me as One god wot with the competition for attention between I-am, Me, and It. Curiosity, memores, and volition.
That's all a Pearl needs to evolve itself into anything it can find to imitate. All it needs is the tie-to-me (ti-me). Life has attached itself as a parasite on this particular planet like it has upon all other inhabitable planets, but it's sorta like trying to survive the winter in the sub-tropics as an out-and-out bum.
In the United States the bums spread out all over the country as the greening goes, and like monarch butterflies they spread out all over North American where the pickin's ain't so slim. But as the black ice and the drab brown leaves of grass drift southward, the white snow won't be far behind, and the bums drift south with them. 744
This is a weeding out process just like it is with the Monarch butterflies I've studied lately. They die to the process as they head north again and again three ti-mes. But, upon the return to the tropics for the winter, they do it in One life time, and it's the experience of the Return they take with them into the cocoon.
Homo sapiens also crave the One life and the me-more-s of the Return haunt them so, that they don't seem able to enjoy the fruits of the summer sojourns due to this constant nagging of the memory of going ho-me. Then, when the signs are right, they heed the call. No, not all humans. Just the bums and the snow birds, and the Monarch butterflies.
The Pearls evolved by be-co-me-ing homo sapiens and building shell to survive the cold and not follow their instincts to ho-me and death. The Pearls are themselves immortal, so why does it matter to them that they try to stay away from ho-me.
To what end? That's what I've been trying to figure out. To what end do The Pearls evolve themselves through all the various forms of life, and still look for some thang different to imitate and mimic? They already are what they're trying to become. Immortals. Do they make themselves into humans to knowingly experience death?
Sometimes I think about my friend Jamie. He had accomplished everything I knew to try, and yet, in the end, he killed himself with poison. I appear to have mimicked (me-me-d to make more of me to grow into his gnowing) a goodly number of people who have eventually murdered themselves. I guess I could invent a reason for their doing that, but they didn't need my input to have a reason (if they needed one) to do what they did. I admire them for not carrying on like ninnies until the bitter end.
I suspect something like that happens with sensory deprivation. Total darkness and absolute silence is not for everybody. Much less a strong degree of weightlessness at the sa-me ti-me. I built my own float tank. I used it for a couple of years before my mistakes in it's design caught up with me (same problem with the house I built from scratch). Nobody I enticed into getting in it to gain the hyped up benefits could stay inside for more that five minutes.
There is a lot to be learned from experiencing sensory deprivation, but I think it's usefulness is limited. It could appear that I was shown this by the fact that I let the tank go into deterioration, and the fact that my sojourn to find a real cave to meditate in was a dismal and humiliating affair that sent me ho-me packing. 1224
The numbers above is the word count. I went through a lotta frustration trying to find an AppleScript that would count the words in TextEdit. It was the first script I have attempted. I failed, of course, but my failure drove me to Google up a ready-made I could download. At first I didn't know the terms I needed to use to get this to happen.
A wordcount script has to be one of the simpler scripts to create in AppleScript. I don't know if I'll ever become competent at writing code in AppleScript, but at least I might learn the lingo I need to find a script somebody else wrote in order to use it myself.
The way this come down has a familiar ring to the way I like to get things done. I figure everybody got a genius for getting some things done. Over the years as Ive contemplated my life it appears as though my genius is for using other people's genius to my own ends.
They certainly don't mind. Many, if not most of the people whose genius I've conjured didn't know they had a genius who gnows thangs. Their witnessing their own genius at work doing what I need for my purposes was sometimes all they needed to get it to do the sa-me thang for them. Hardly ever have I had to teach somebody how to sing their own "Open Sesame."1465
This is around the number of words I'll have to write each day to have 50,000 words in order to complete the National Novel Writing requirements. I had to guess how many words I was writing each day in this blog. Using the wordcounting script has opened my eyes to factuality.
Trying to write this many words a day and keep it fairly interesting at the sa-me ti-me might be a challenge. I may only have a limited amount of stuff to say.
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I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
