repeatedly seeking these weaknesses, steeped in the gleefulness
street lights complete sight and reap the weak feces-grinning least bit unseasoned heathen screaming,
"Jesus he was bleeding, seems to me the lethal feats of heat-seeking leaping freakish steaming feet and burrito peels leaking seeping cheesy grease
like peacemakers eating genius-reasons phoenix-seasoned remixed decomposed
dream of a fiend's healed reasoning streaming beans of seemingly green healthy feelings
stealing heathens' hearts and leaving parts to seem unreasonably lean, mean, and steaming mad
feeling sad, congealing cadmium pleases the least of the preening seamstresses
reading reasonably decent free serial scenes leaving unforeseen clean careening sealant
seems seeds of serious streams seating and speaking
keeping dream memes leaning helium-dealing demons neat and evenly teamed
It's difficult to remember to forget to give a shit sometimes. It's frustrating how difficult that proposition is to frame in this choppy hacking crazy Germanic language. Design and functionality grow unrelated as the gulf between perception and measurement grows.
White ensconces leaves, a reasonably righteous long decree. High democracy types won't offer me likely awkward nitrous-proffered heightened philosopher likeness. Stopping the brightest off to my right, unstoppered scenic lights bounce off your white dress.
He replies, "Yes, but with my stress, could you like this? Not if I'd guess."
"You're just frightened" said his microscopic rightness hidden deep in my chest. "But I like this inner violence! Don't deny it!"
Yeah, you're right, kid, you're the mightiest of my resistance, likely instances like this compel my lips to write their gifts that might be missed while hybrid myths and viruses deny me this.
Whose life is this? A wife and kids and cycling with them tykes? What men don't like pretending silence isn't quite a prison? Might he listen? Slightly stiff, but fighting the unlikeliest of crises doesn't right this love-and-life miss.
Who could find this lucid, bright, confusing type of beauty like lightning crashing, ripe with passion, spryly half the time she's laughing quietly as life goes past, but like her dad she'd fight no matter how high walls seem to rise. She cares for me - I, who's barely alive like half of the time - with nary a sigh!
So rarely does my apparent disguise, arrogance while staring inside, fail to describe the terribly frightening, scared but enlightened barrier-hiding bear who'd like to be there in your eyes, and the air and the light sing unbearably brightly.
Every sigh an awkwardly acknowledged acceptance, after all; analyzing afternoon ascendancy alters an arbitrary and asymptotically asymmetrical alibi awfully and an additional albatross arcs as artfully as anyone anticipated. At least the most won't last the musty lost masts listing madly. Corpus collosum Coliseum - can I see them?
What are your incentives (motivations)? Seems like a rather redundant and inefficient way to be the frothing edge fractals of a self-aware universe of lots of unknowns and 5% matter compared to, say, not bothering to try. Click, click, pulse, sigh - the machinery of self-sustained homeostasis statements safely stapled so self-indulgent solipsists surely sovereign seek stately similitude.
The simulation is adequate; invention of new words to (humorously) discard the hubris of vocabulary habituation. I need r/bitch/wankle, r/faggot/santa vacca - can't have an Alec Baldwin moment when not paying attention to social regulation and audience reaction simulations.
Are our imaginations procedural conceptual virtual reality emulators lacking the enumerative repetitive capabilities required due to limited consciousness time-bound storage? Can it be augmented?
Feels fearsome, these leering patriots leaning over poor Johnny Tremaine. Sustained explanatory, chains of allegory formerly free storm of the sea weakened formless, meek and gormless. [IT'S COARSE AND ROUGH] I NEED TO SHOW YOU IT. Star wars? Look at me! Blood flowing down to her sex hole [so have you; grown more beautiful, I mean].
You'd better hope that gorilla kills you. probably (maybe) is (was) a (the) pedophile (crown jewels) idolater (iconoclast) (symbolic literal aggregated) The days and weeks are paler peaks laid grease-wise heat mimes leave thriving islands. I don't think it's true that the Gospels elevate women. Capability, culpability, cult civility, cul-de-sac.
Flamboyance and buoyancy, oh boy, you'll see toiletries spoiling me joyfully soiling annoyances, oil, and debris. Royalty recoiling noisily, a ploy like soylent green koi pond feedings - boysenberry foie gras oyster sherry - coyly sharing roiling ferrous boiled vicariously, foiled unbearably, coiled comparing lotteries' pointlessly poison-free. Biochemical associative apparatus diminished capability. Lupine stupor tsunami soup; I'd assume uselessness, Rufus.
Six quid for sick squids? Does that setup upset you? Hollow and surreal, I think. So reluctant at the notion of actuality it answers questions you didn't know existed. Whistle in the darkness, listless or cathartic. Catholic wishes distress Jean-Paul Sartre from his rest efficiently at best, restricting room for brea(d)th.
Burning the midnight oil, the Force awakens. Dopaminergic habituation hopefully urgent that this rumination rotates conversion addicts through grateful grotesque gates. Industrial runoff in bustier bundles you trusted with suffrage such that substance seems stuffily sustained.
Reeling but seeking these weaknesses, steeped in the gleefulness streetlights' complete sight and keep the weak feces-grinning least bit unseasoned heathen screaming. Jesus he was bleeding, seems to me the lethal feets of heat-seeking leaping freakishly. Steaming burritos leaking seeping cheesy grease like peacemakers eating genius reasons; phoenix-seasoned remixed decomposed dream of a fiend's healed reasoning streaming beans of seemingly green healthy feelings. Stealing healing hearts and leaving parts to be unreasonably lean and mean, congealing cadmium pleases the least of the preening. Decent free serial scenes unforeseen sealant seeds serious seething and speaking dream memes leaving helium-dealing demons neat and even.
Habituation tonal melodies.
I never care. Oh, seen a bear?
Until complete fervent attractable forest inhabitants
Underneath the surface is her teddy bear leading straight forward
Obedience is mistaken for aptitude when performance is measured by conformity to what is most easily measured.
Raised to believe that winning the game by cheating the system is the sweetest reward, our intelligentsia frolic and tumble in vast meadows of self-adulation. Lo! Wherefore art thou despondent? Surely, your high score will bring you lasting enlightenment. Bleed, starve, and die, you mongrels. Put on a show for the sadistic gods of your misery.
The explanation is inadequate, but there isn't time, never enough time.
Do you pretend to get it, or are you going to be a troublemaker? We have a curriculum and a deadline. Quit being selfish.
I've been doing this for ten years, son. You're just a bad student. You'll understand someday, and if you don't it's not like you'll really notice. Run along now.
Always the shameful employee, never the shameless employer. Old wives tell tales and old men drink ales. No benefits, not even of doubts.
Don't ask difficult questions. Just smile and nod. Now we're all complicit in the same lie.
"I mentioned the movie the Matrix, probably something image like these letters, and there's Nemo, what's his name? The guy who, he goes and he starts flying with antigravity, I think that's pretty good...
"Information, by thinking about how much, what information is doing, then the spacetime will be emergent, it will come out of just a bunch of zeroes and ones.
"And here's one idea… one of the things that information tends to do, it gets lost all the time, actually, the second law of thermodynamics… Entropy always increases, chaos increases.
"That's true in our universe, in fact that's true in other universes as well, so it's a very fundamental fact of how things work. What's probably also true is that it seems that those two things are closely related, the fact that information gets lost all the time and the fact that things fall.
"Loss is the increase in the known unknowns; that is responsible for spacetime, for gravity."
True information, Platonic in the imaginative space, is holy/hyperbolic - yet for flesh-bound computation-consciousness, wholly incomplete. Forget the ancient salvation cults that reified Moses, Gabriel, and Jesus. Those surviving religious narratives were evolutionarily stable alternatives to otherworldly revelation whose power derived from the vile, profane destruction of information that contradicted their claims.
Science is named misleadingly; it is not knowing the present. Our storytelling minds' distorted imaginative decompression is limited to only a handful of simultaneous variables, and although parallelized computation certainly optimizes understanding in simple multivariate testing, we required artifacts to to transmit information with any reliability into the future.
Just as fire, agriculture, language, and writing transformed the rates of change by orders of magnitude, our ability to hack mathematics provides us the ability to predict the future with ever-increasing precision and accuracy.
Our greatest achievement is not merely science - it is prescience. No crystal balls, incense, or decks of cards required - just beautiful, elegant mathematics. You are only free - you only have free will and the luxury of choice - because humans have learned to wield the magic woven into the fabric of a quantized reality that is digitally finite yet imaginatively infinite.
The universe is built such that you somehow are chosen to experience it. Out of all the shapes that these particles could assume, you are the consciousness lucky enough to inhabit a speck on the vast surface of a speck in the vast solar expanse of a speck of the enormous galactic region of a speck of reality.
The information describing the execution of your DNA over time will never be lost. It will be encoded as a QR code on the surface of a black hole.
There might be a ZIP file of you at the edge of the universe projecting your simulated existence (but real, since reality is a simulation).
The informational effects of your every thought and action diffuse as eddies in the flow of spacetime but are never destroyed; in trillions of years at the the heat death of the universe, their final traces will all have been recompressed into two-dimensional information mapped on the surface of a black holes and ejected as Hawking radiation.
Maybe you'll be decoded by future fourth-dimensional post-universal conscious computational remnants who find your hairy monkey hijinks hilarious.
