This probably isn't directed at you. You're welcome to watch anyway.
Hello, world.
Today I was pointed in the direction of a disturbing thing.
I was, at first, not sure whether I should be more disturbed by the thing itself or by my failure to discover it alone.
Unfortunately, having been given advice on how to configure my dowsing rod, I've found a Thing of such magnitude that my previous shock at not uncovering it has been mown down, the green belt of simple astonishment decried, and in its place now stands a city of modern outrage, great meandering things. Too much has happened for a simple rage. Fuel has been building on some great, nameless pyre for years, unbeknownst to many. All that remains for me to do is oversee the burning of effigies.
There are no rites of old that would suffice here. Perhaps, in a decade, what I do will be looked back on and seen as a quaint, simple act, a fist raised, a blow struck and nothing more. For now, though, I will do all I can.
I work best when I care about the work at hand. There is little that could inspire me further than this. While the details will differ from person to person, I'm sure there are many who will never read this, but who nonetheless understand completely what I mean.
There is enough now. I've worked myself into the state of mind needed to go about this work. The climb complete, I can stand upon this plateau, high and misty. It is calm up here, in the strangest way; there is nobody else here, no presence. The mind expands to fill the yawning gap of the sky, and what was a burning rage finds itself without fists, without immediacy, without that sense of time that makes fools of us all.
Up here, I think. All that practise lucid dreaming has helped. Now, stretched out around me, I can perceive truths and lies, secrets and facts. Some are buried, more are hidden behind mirrors, others sit in plain sight. All are unlabelled.
I pick up the first in my hand. It isn't the first by any numerical system, nor by significance; it is merely the closest. It resists, squirming as only secret things can; physically still, it twists only when perceived. There's more than one way to skin schrodinger's cat, and I will visit all of them on this place until the shells on the secrets here are all shattered, scattered for the winds that do not blow. I will render the pearls of knowledge down, sift idea from fact from opinion from context, and when I am done, I will be ready to act.
Until then, I will stay here, on my peak. By the time I have learned, I will know precisely how best to apply knowledge to achieve what a metal pipe cannot.
Be ready, old friend. You know what I'm preparing to do. You've had fun with all your games, you knew all the rules. For years, you held on to your turn.
But your turn is ending. Hand me the dice, now, because I only need to make one move.
Today I was pointed in the direction of a disturbing thing.
I was, at first, not sure whether I should be more disturbed by the thing itself or by my failure to discover it alone.
Unfortunately, having been given advice on how to configure my dowsing rod, I've found a Thing of such magnitude that my previous shock at not uncovering it has been mown down, the green belt of simple astonishment decried, and in its place now stands a city of modern outrage, great meandering things. Too much has happened for a simple rage. Fuel has been building on some great, nameless pyre for years, unbeknownst to many. All that remains for me to do is oversee the burning of effigies.
There are no rites of old that would suffice here. Perhaps, in a decade, what I do will be looked back on and seen as a quaint, simple act, a fist raised, a blow struck and nothing more. For now, though, I will do all I can.
I work best when I care about the work at hand. There is little that could inspire me further than this. While the details will differ from person to person, I'm sure there are many who will never read this, but who nonetheless understand completely what I mean.
There is enough now. I've worked myself into the state of mind needed to go about this work. The climb complete, I can stand upon this plateau, high and misty. It is calm up here, in the strangest way; there is nobody else here, no presence. The mind expands to fill the yawning gap of the sky, and what was a burning rage finds itself without fists, without immediacy, without that sense of time that makes fools of us all.
Up here, I think. All that practise lucid dreaming has helped. Now, stretched out around me, I can perceive truths and lies, secrets and facts. Some are buried, more are hidden behind mirrors, others sit in plain sight. All are unlabelled.
I pick up the first in my hand. It isn't the first by any numerical system, nor by significance; it is merely the closest. It resists, squirming as only secret things can; physically still, it twists only when perceived. There's more than one way to skin schrodinger's cat, and I will visit all of them on this place until the shells on the secrets here are all shattered, scattered for the winds that do not blow. I will render the pearls of knowledge down, sift idea from fact from opinion from context, and when I am done, I will be ready to act.
Until then, I will stay here, on my peak. By the time I have learned, I will know precisely how best to apply knowledge to achieve what a metal pipe cannot.
Be ready, old friend. You know what I'm preparing to do. You've had fun with all your games, you knew all the rules. For years, you held on to your turn.
But your turn is ending. Hand me the dice, now, because I only need to make one move.