Blog post # 66:
Very recent pictures:
Geometry Of Whispers
The latter picture was inspired by the poem below. The "inertia" part comes from my suspicion that inertia is caused by "knots" in subatomic "strings" (See "String Theory"), but those knots probably look nothing like my picture, even if they exist in the first place.
So, the question today is: If a cataclysm indeed kills off a good percentage of the world's human population in the future, what will that (next) cataclysm likely be, in your opinion? Some possibilities: Nuclear war, astroid or comet impact, disease pandemic (either naturally-caused or engineered), black hole or vacuum decay or strange matter created by a super-collider, climate-change tipping point, mass-suicide caused by some horrible but otherwise non-lethal situation, mass-starvation or thirst, gamma ray burst in the vicinity of Earth, extraterrestrial invasion,etc etc etc. Maybe some of you can come up with other possibilities.
Please post them as comments to this blog-post. I may use the suggestions in a future poll on this issue.
The only true reality is the darkness.
I suspect that none of you exist, that I am just dreaming this, and that I am really either in a coma or am in suspended-animation somewhere (possibly aboard a space-craft or buried deep underground).
First, if so, I want to wake up. But I cannot yet do so, no matter how hard I try to.
Second, I hope, IF I am dreaming, that all I write and art I create in this dream is being recorded by technology that reads my mind. Hopefully, my creations are being shared with humanity, if anybody is alive at all out there still.
You see, years ago, back when I was a teenager in the hospital, voices told me I was going to be put in a computer-controlled dream (like in The Matrix -- but this was years earlier than the movie). This was somehow going to help humanity, but I still fail to understand how exactly.
Anyway, I came to believe later that I was just hallucinating those voices, and that they were the result of my great weight-loss I suffered just before the hallucinations occurred.
But over the decades since, every now and then something happens to me that makes me wonder if I AM really dreaming and that those voices were actually the last bit of reality I have encountered.
Tell me people, do you exist?
Like ET, I am phoning home.
Let me wake up, please.
The promised (threatened) poem:
It is related to the topic immediately above.
Knotted As Dreams
I do not dream of knots. But each dream of mine is
Is itself a knot, is itself a tangle of thoughts
And maddening illusions never quenched. Oh, I
Do indeed dream of introspection; and I do depict
This as made of string and straps and everything.
Oh, I do desire the realities of my own
Artificiality. But I am despised by idiots. And I
Am asleep within these dimensions inscribed into
My thinking. And the knots tangle ambiguously amongst
All circumstances, amongst all coincidences formed.
Then I wish for my waking. But I am still
Comatose inside the cosmos' vanishing truth, a
Truth unseen even by ghosts. I do attempt
To scribble and sculpt each paradoxical coil onto
Its temptations tied thickly. Yet I am only
Obscured by my slumber. I am only strung
Along my linearity. And I am only knotted as
Dreams, as randomness' spirals of image, spirals of
My mind's facade intuitively distracted.