Apocalypse Meow

When the clouds get heavierdarkerthreatening
andirealizethati have to get out of here
and FAST
I will take my picturessomewaternicecomfortableshoes
and YOU
and iguessyourcat

Righting

on paper tonight.

So sorry.

Transcript for Stephen Hawking asks big questions about the universe

There is nothing bigger or older than the universe. Your questions I would like to talk about are: One, where did we come from? How did the universe come into being? Are we alone in the universe? Is there alien life out there? What is the future of the human race?

Up until the 1920s, everyone thought the universe was essentially static and unchanging in time. Then it was discovered that the universe was expanding. Distant galaxies were moving away from us. This meant they must have been closer together in the past. If we extrapolate back, we find we must have all been on top of each other about 15 billion years ago. This was the Big Bang, the beginning of the universe.

But was there anything before the Big Bang? If not, what created the universe? Why did the universe emerge from the Big Bang the way it did? We used to think that the theory of the universe could be divided into two parts. First, there were the laws like Maxwell's equations and general relativity that determined the evolution of the universe, given its state over all of space at one time. And second, there was no question of the initial state of the universe.

We have made good progress on the first part, and now have the knowledge of the laws of evolution in all but the most extreme conditions. But until recently, we have had little idea about the initial conditions for the universe. However, this division into laws of evolution and initial conditions depends on time and space being separate and distinct. Under extreme conditions, general relativity and quantum theory allow time to behave like another dimension of space. This removes the distinction between time and space and means the laws of evolution can also determine the initial state. The universe can spontaneously create itself out of nothing.

Moreover, we can calculate a probability that the universe was created in different states. These predictions are in excellent agreement with observations by the WMAP satellite of the cosmic microwave background, which is an imprint of the very early universe. We think we have solved the mystery of creation. Maybe we should patent the universe and charge everyone royalties for their existence.

I now turn to the second big question: Are we alone, or is there other life in the universe? We believe that life arose spontaneously on the Earth, so it must be possible for life to appear on other suitable planets, of which there seem to be a large number in the galaxy.

But we don't know how life first appeared. We have two pieces of observational evidence on the probability of life appearing. The first is that we have fossils of algae from 3.5 billion years ago. The earth was formed 4.6 billion years ago and was probably too hot for about the first half billion years. So life appeared on earth within half a billion years of it being possible, which is short compared to the ten billion-year lifetime of a planet of Earth-type. This suggests that a probability of life appearing is reasonably high. If it was very low, one would have expected it to take most of the ten billion years available.

On the other hand, we don't seem to have been visited by aliens. I am discounting the reports of UFOs. Why would they appear only to cranks and weirdos? If there is a government conspiracy to suppress the reports and keep for itself the scientific knowledge the aliens bring, it seems to have been a singularly ineffective policy so far. Furthermore, despite an extensive search by the SETI project, we haven't heard any alien television quiz shows. This probably indicates that there are no alien civilizations at our stage of development within a radius of a few hundred light years. Issuing an insurance policy against abduction by aliens seems a pretty safe bet.

This brings me to the last of the big questions: The future of the human race. If we are the only intelligent beings in the galaxy, we should make sure we survive and continue. But we are entering an increasingly dangerous period of our history. Our population and our use of the finite resources of planet Earth are growing exponentially, along with our technical ability to change the environment for good or ill. But our genetic code still carries the selfish and aggressive instincts that were of survival advantage in the past. It will be difficult enough to avoid disaster in the next hundred years, let alone the next thousand or million.

Our only chance of long-term survival is not to remain lurking on planet Earth, but to spread out into space. The answers to these big questions show that we have made remarkable progress in the last hundred years. But if we want to continue beyond the next hundred years, our future is in space. That is why I am in favor of manned -- or should I say, personed space flight.

All of my life I have sought to understand the universe and find answers to these questions. I have been very lucky that my disability has not been a serious handicap; indeed, it has probably given me more time than most people to pursue the quest for knowledge. The ultimate goal is a complete theory of the universe, and we are making good progress. Thank you for listening.

Chris Anderson: Professor, if you had to guess either way, do you now believe that it is more likely than not that we are alone in the Milky Way, as a civilization of our level of intelligence or higher? This answer took seven minutes, and really gave me an insight into the incredible act of generosity this whole talk was for TED.

Stephen Hawking: I think it quite likely that we are the only civilization within several hundred light years; otherwise we would have heard radio waves. The alternative is that civilizations don't last very long, but destroy themselves. CA: Professor Hawking, thank you for that answer. We will take it as a salutary warning, I think, for the rest of our conference this week. Professor, we really thank you for the extraordinary effort you made to share your questions with us today. Thank you very much indeed.

May your neighbors respect you, 
Trouble neglect you,
The angels protect you
And heaven accept you. 

Aye

I don't care that it's late. I'm not drunk. I was tired tonight and then I had energy and then I was tired and then I got very hungry and then I ate and then I got tired because I ate as much as I could and then work got me tired even more so and my mind hurt(ed) because what I do that pays the bills' :) hurts and hurts and hurts my heads' :) and my souls' :) and then The Deus Ex Machina Super-Duper/Future Scissors' :) come out and it cuts' :) out my spirits' :) and it doesn't bother to cut within the lines and then my sloppy spirits' :) is all-splayed out and like, you know, like, it's all sloppy and the the Elmers Glue Stick poops out from the edges and I get all, like embarrassed and stuff because if I'm going to let you peek at my private parts and then, like...

Then what?

Uuurgggghhhh. I've been doing teen angst for way too long.
Uuurgggghhhh. I've been doing adult angst for way too long.

I don't care that it's late.

So, what then?

I'm embarrassed about the stuff that I let you peek at and I'm embarrassed that I'm a sloppy writer and I'm embarrassed that this is one of the only conduits that I have left and I'm sorry that I'm a whiny writer and I apologetically apologize for (non)writing about my work, my energy, my mind on my money and my money on my minds' :)

I don't care that it's late.
I          care now.
I don't care.
It's late.
I care.
I don't.


Now what?

:)

Free Milk Fat

I get a lot of spam on Fat Free Milk.

Don't even ask me what the search results are on Fat Free Milk.

Seriously, think about it...


Via search results? My keywords on Fat Free Milk are:

Fat
Free
and Milk

It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror... Horror has a face... and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends.

in utero

You'll be grown before this tree is tall...

Die Antwoord...

You know what sucks about writing whilst one of your Pandora Radio stations plays in the background?
You start to pound the keys and sometimes a song comes up that totally sucks ass.
So, you can either continue to pound away to shrilling Harpies or...

I don't know how to explain pkd/lights in corners/static/ghosts/etc/blargh/justaskme/Quartz Lane

http://www.scribd.com/doc/3230/Robert-Crumb-The-Religious-Experience-of-Philip-K-Dick

This is too big of a project for my mind to mine and to fathom...

I don't know if I can continue to put the puzzle fragments together...

It does involve characters in a movie that I dreamed for hours while I slept
replaying, rewinding, nostalgia, danger and bad elements that...god, I sound like a psycho...

I keep on remembering things and they piece together with other things that I've experienced and with things that Ive written before.

It really involves Philip K. Dick - which is FUCKED UP. Because....some of his biggest, craziest moments changed his life and affected stories that he wrote AND I lived down the street from where he used to live when I experienced a BIG thing in my life AND....I am so screwed...I don't know if I can write this - so far, so good, though....

Two nights of writing in a row. I'm excited for the dreams that I have tonight BUT scared, also..

What I'm going to write after I get off of this...I NEEDED TO TAKE A BREATHER....will put me in a crazier, creative state...

This is the weirdest thing that I've ever written....

and it ties into my life and the dreams that I had last night and PKD's experiences?

okay bye....writng....nnnnnnNOW

oink

I need to start writing regardless of how late it is.

It's better then nothing, eh?

Tomorrow I will read this and vow never to sling slop in this trough again.

the rain the rain the rain keeps pouring
and words keep spilling into my ears
and they are wet words
slippery, slimy things that my atrophied brain
doesn't want to absorb
HOWDOISTEMTHISFLOW?
this boring trickle
HOWDOISTEMTHISFLOW!
boringboringboring drops
all you
and not me
a reign a reign a reign of cattezz' and doggzez'
a drip and another drip always
flooding hope patience my will
i don't want to drown
to sail this vessel past the edge of The Earth
or to cast my sextet into the void, frustrated
i want warmth
shelter
security
and an empty ARK
so that I can sail a world anew
ALONEALONeALOneALoneAlonealone
and
ALONE
please

Oh My.

Thank Gandalf. I got this back. It went away. bksafdjkbffasnmsaf,mnfsa

repost

My Best Christmas Ever...



Might of written about this before. I know that I have, but I think that it was in one of my notebooks. Maybe I wrote about it in a magazine or school paper. Somewhere.

Back in the day. When I was young. When the top of my head probably came to my fathers hip - my father and I went down the street to the Xmas tree lot. This was a REAL lot. One of the ones where you actually picked a tree and a bundled up gnarly neanderthalic man sawed it off for you and lugged it to your car. Not one of the drugstore parking lot lots. Something that you didn't do in combination with grocery shopping.

It was cold. But Southern California cold. So that means, like...60 degrees. My father and I had trudged deeper and deeper into this mini-forest looking for a nice, full tree to take home. I don't know where my older brother was. Probably playing Atari or watching football. Definitely not dating girls. My brother was a very late bloomer.

We found one. Not a girl or a late bloomer, but a great-looking tree off in the distance. Looked huge to me. Gigantic. As we approached it, I realized that my father wasn't around anymore. He was behind me, crouched down on one knee and had his hand placed on something by the ground. I crunched back to where my father was and heard him speaking in a strange voice. A tiny, soft voice. My father's eyes were misty. He had stepped on a baby rabbit. It was probably no bigger than my hand and was jerking spasmodiacally on a blanket of pine needles. My father was softly saying that he was sorry. I'm so sorry, so, so sorry...

I kept on looking back from the dying baby rabbit and to my father's now alien face. I couldn't figure out what was more of a shock to me - the little thing dying before me or the glimpse of actual emotion on my father's face.

My father eventually barked an order at me to KEEP ON GOING. I did, because he was my father. My father told me to not stop looking back. I did, because he was my father. I didn't ask any questions. I did, because he was my father.

We got our tree.

Do I remember how it looked that year in the livingroom?

No.

Do I still remember that tiny, twitching rabbit?

Yes. Perfectly.

Best Christmas ever?

Yes.

Why?

Because I'll remember that one for the rest of my life.

sleep
don't go out
ignore social gatherings and obligations
stay inside

see how this works out for you

I can hear your heart beating from here. And I can hear you breathing from there. And even if I'm not here with you tonight, I know where we'll be tomorrow. Together.

laz e

Fuk. I relly dnt lik this com pumputer nd th smoeks all poring n my eys nd i guss its cld otside r at lest cld fr asouthern alifornia nd evn thogh tht ths sntnce wsnt tht gloriou it stll tk me mor tme t blw acros the thje kybrd. to blw ashs acrss this Mc kybord thet I fuckg hte. i'v wrien n prchmnt. imis cnieform. imis arrnging big St\nehenge bloks. i mis my CIA focallity. iam fuckng cazy andI am nts. I neeed t diee, aloonend wih mny petsz nd to b coverd wthvultre p]\ckings nd rdiation tht wll pngpingping pstumosly wi me nd yor grate gddamn granchildrn wen Richard Branson  n Octobabies r mining ore n th Virgin Moon.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 04, 2004



The Best Thing That I Did Today
Was The Worst Thing That I Could've Done...
Because Then - Everything Was Better After That...


I have a new wallet now. Strikes me funny that, in twenty-eight years, I think that this is only the second time that I've bought one myself. There were probably a couple before that, but they were probably fastened together with Velcro, so they don't count. I might've traded a friend one of my G.I. Joes for one of the wallets that I had before. And the one before this, was a Harley Davidson one that I bought in a biker shop in downtown Cincinnati when I was eighteen. It had a long chain on it. I thought it was cool. And it helped prevent people from stealing it while I tried to sleep on the Greyhound bus too.

Dude, yes - I am getting older...nothing makes an old dog sniff the aging air more than perusing wallets in Target because your old one's on its last thread. I cheaped out and bought it at Target. Do you have Target where you live? It's like the west coast equivalent of your Wal-Mart. Except without the guns. And the old people greeting you. We do have Wal-Mart here though. Don't get me wrong. We have a lot here that you do too. Except White Castles...maybe that's a good thing. But...

Buying a new wallet made me feel ancient. Car lots, buying booze, lap dances, work clothes, ordering for your date, having kids call you SIR...none of this makes you feel as dusty as buying a wallet by yourself. I don't know why, but it does. I also bought some plain, white t-shirts, socks, light bulbs, Cokes, and picture frames. That's old too. But I did spend a lot of time agonizing over whether to buy more Star Wars figures - so that doesn't make me a gray ol' man yet, does it?

If I could've stopped any part of the day today, it would've been the part where I woke up, and if I could've sped up a part of the day it would've been the part that I'm at now. Stretch it to the limit. See what happens in the end before you fall asleep and have to return it the next day to avoid late fees.

I think that I just figured out the law of nature, kids. We have to hunt down all of the cats, let the dogs fight it out amongst themselves and let the monkeys be monkeys. Everything else can be bugs and insects. That sounds good to me.

I'm scared of the snail's pace in the world's race. I remember how cute and sad my little sister was, all at once, when she was young. She used to construct little dollhouses for the numerous snails that used to inhabit our front and backyard bushes. My father eventually found out and made her move her sticky cardboard and miniature plastic furniture mansion outside in the front by the doorbell. One day, as I was getting ready for school, she ran up to me crying. I followed her outside and looked towards the direction that she was pointing at with her tiny little fingers. Cardboard snail shelter intact, but myriad shiny snail trails leading from her house, over the walls, and back into the bushes.

Sad for little girls. A relief for fathers. Freedom for fast-moving snails in the night. It must've been some operation for them under the cover of hushed darkness. I bet they ran real fast. She was only slowing them down.

Little sister's all grown up now, trying to build her own house. While I feel like one of her snails. Except the walls are bigger for me and I can't figure out which way to go. Would you look for me if I left a phosphorescent trail for you? Would you try to retrieve me like she did? Would you try to replace me with another or just forget about me and move on to something bigger?

I like my new wallet. It's nicer. Sleeker. Slimmer. Kind of like how I am now in my older age. I liked only filling in the new wallet with the bare essentials and chucking out the pack rat paranoiac feeling that I-cant–throw-this-away-because-I-think-that-I-might-need-it-in-an-emergency. I like feeling that if an emergency came up and if I needed a number or a scrap of paper that I'd survive and that I should just chill and that none of this stuff comes up anyway, and that if I really needed it - then I could get it - and if I couldn't? Then fuck it. My mind keeps on telling me to get jumper cables for my car, but I still haven't gotten those yet, though - have I? So why worry about having a certain business card? Yes. Why?

Oh...everything's fine. This is part of the reason why I turn nonsense letters into nonsense sentences. This is how I've always been. All questions with, maybe, a different answer every second. Every second breeds more questions - all you're trying to do is catch up. You forget most of it by the time that you wake up the next day - and then...shake...stir...repeat process.

Looking at the long list of ingredients to the package of Pringles that I brought home for my girlfriend makes me depressed. Looking at the cigar to my right doesn't. Uh-huh. Yeah. Hypocrite. I spent all of my day working at a job that I hate doing, now that I should be sleeping at three in the morning - I finally feel alive. Love the girlfriend and can't wait to spend time with her - but now that she's asleep in the next room - I feel alive. Feeling like, I think, the person that she fell in love with. The person at work all day doesn't exist. He's just a gossamer image of me now. Tonight's ME can totally kick today's ME's ass.

I'm getting better and better each day…I hope. I need a little fast and a little slow snail pace. I need what I need based on my schedule. I need you to listen to me. I need to listen to myself. I need to be young and old all in the same moment. I need sleep and I need to wake up. I want you to kiss me and I want you to leave me alone. I need more time and I've used all of mine up. I need to keep drinking and I need to sober up. I need to start running harder. I only want to float. I can' t watch. My eyes won't close. I should stop writing...

But I can't shut up...

When
We
Are
US
y'know?
You and me?
We
Are
Kind of
Sorta
Goddamn cool.
Cool!
Goddamn!
Right?
Sorta.
Kind of.
Right?
Are we...me and you...
y'know...
are we -

kindofsortagoddamncool
youandme
wesortakindaare

y'know?

RIGHT?

DRAFT

and when I'm not trying to prove that my life makes sense
and to not be the stuff of Sleepy Hollow legends
I
learn, learn, learn - about CCD 2011, Reindeer/Caribou/Rachel Reis/Mirah/The Hoover Dam/Air Force 1/The House/Senate/Migratory patterns/Patience/Ghosts/Warren Ellis/Lisa Hannigan/Ollabelle/Love/Chemtrails/The Panchen Lama/Factory farming/Nelson Riddle/Sewing/Tom Stoppard/Bokanovsky's Process/Bokonoism/Rachel OG/S.M. Stirling/Mayans/Jesca Hoop/Hands held/Tesla formulas/Smiles/Fat Man and Little Boy/
I try too much
and now I'm trying to prove that life makes sense
and I've learned to be humble/patient and like WATER
to be so much better then before
I
want to not to speel check my actions
and to Mirriam Webster/iPhone app my heart ALWAYAS

I am the best that I've ever been
I've had glacial progression
and tsunamic moments of clarity
1
2
3
go H20
now!

aspacecadet

explorer Ostrich
with his head in the ground
an insect
trapped in amber
until you release me
from
wonder
fear
and from being stuck
in the past

I come from the future...

Back then we used to write about
Cat Stevens and Sufjan Stevens
factory farming and sustainable agriculture
time in a bottle and
howdoesonemakethat?
tinyworkerscontributing
connectingsynapses
stringsandmemorythings
tobecherished
andputonpedestals
andputonshelves
andthensoldyearslater@estatesales
nowiwriteaboutmyself

I have not written too much lately. I've been distracted. Dealing with things. Overworked and under-stimulated. Part of me didn't miss the writing. I don't miss freelance jobs. I don't miss writing about your DJ's, your magazine, your company or helping to write your screenplay, script, proposal, etc. What I do miss is writing on a front porch, drinking cigarettes and smoking beers furiously. I miss writing things that aren't for anything and that will go nowhere...but here.

God bless this blog.

My head today?

Charles Lindbergh and Amelia Earheart had a baby.

Cloud fury.