What Happened?

Almost everything that you hear is a lie. As long as you take the speaker together with the lie, you may be able to rip the guts out of the lie. You still won’t get the truth, but, the truth is subjective. As spoken lies, the words are also fugitive. Speaking people will not generally volunteer to “put that in writing”, either.

Truth as a thing is subjective, and we are all rooted with one foot in the society of others, although “people” is a slippery slope of a word all by itself. The written word as a book is a real thing, and thus some truth is there. “If I placed it on the floor, this would hold the door open,” may be true, but, there is a storm coming. So, that will only be true for a day or so, if it is true now. Truths of this nature, wholly aside from the next thing you need to do, endanger us. As such, meeting the arbitrary checklist of what is true is no better than to determine what is real. I feel that real things are generally discarded, in the street, where you see them. They are not always a cigarette butt. They could be a cigarette butt underneath a pattern of sand with blacks where the water flowed. Under rills it is just possible, but I refuse to check. It is ridiculous, hard to light, etc. It takes imagination added to reality to arrive at the content of the category,”what must exist”, as, a moment ago following right now too would make my fingers type backwards.

I made the same post different and re-posted it, rather than to decide which ‘Little Lucy’ to use. As long as something is an experiment it will not have anything of the life that made it remaining when it is completed. Then, it will be real for the purpose of truth and develop eventually into a body of knowledge. But, it will be lost, because of the presence of others and my death. They don’t leave any of that out. They have their animal needs and worse, their human comport.
comport
1. to bear or conduct (oneself); behave: He comported himself with dignity. –verb (used without object). 2. to be in agreement, harmony, or conformity …
Anything out of place will be removed. They do housekeeping. If I copy and post an old post, it establishes the time when I started this post, not the time it was posted. Little Lulu was what I thought of when I saw some picture my wife’s nephew Edwin in Bogotá held up to a web cam, of my wife before she got fat.

What basically happened was that I thought of being 35. I think I was 16. I had a motorcycle and I read motorcycle magazines, and I thought that by 35 I could be a great rider. 35 is one of those ages. It leads to 45. I turned 35 in jail, and all the time I was 45 I was in prison. However, what had happened was shot through my entire half-century. Society and the economy were imploding the whole time. The truth was not going to fit in with that, making the prospect a sort of train wreck. I am telling you this since there is no point in keeping it secret. No one today should be able to sell out from this point onward despite his youth.

I d/l uncle fester’s 8th, and watched most of a Dennis Quaid movie where he is an English prof. It is a tragedy to lose children and siblings and loved ones, but that can be tempered if they are idiots, I suppose. People have purposely lost me, by changing continents or using the legal system, so, I have gotten worse. No need to make the effort now. You can use the power of government or distance to destroy objects, people, institutions, etc. Maybe not love. I still have not lost my son completely. Those willing to share are generally dealing with those who are not.

My country has been changing, but not towards socialism or democracy. Away from that. At an accelerating pace. Proof? Yeah, proof. What? Prove it? Okay. I don’t use. I went to Legoland yesterday. I don’t think anybody in that whole place smoked. Yet, when I go to look for a job here in 2010, I bet the unemployment rate will change such that the rate of change of this rate will codify a new and dangerous reality in which whether or not you now use, all of your past use will become data for your elimination, and that’s not democratic. Since this is an old nation, it has ways in place to continue the corruption leading to both the carrot and the stick. There exists a carrot/stick/robot you have to face with your wits and your voice.

809

*******

Hello, my name is 99¢.

Augh! I just notice as I write that down—there was a “Ninety-Nine”. She was on Get Smart. Oh, that is the name of the D. Quaid movie, the same as “Smart People”, but that’s what bothers me: I don’t fit. At least, I am writing it that way.

Avogadro’s number = 6.0221415 × 10^23

600000000000000000000000
600,000,000,000,000,000,000,000
quadrillion
quadillion
thousan
illion
billion
tillion

. . .
quinillion
sezillion
segillion √

600 sextillion rounds off to a septillion.

I am taking this number
888
hey-hey-hey
with something else, when I get back around to it; I am looking for changes to the fundamental constants, but in such a way as that the first time you are born you can see what they are headed for, and it is headed for 6.023 x 10²³.

I have 23 letters in my name. Actually, the more of these, the smaller they are. I mean, out of the Big Bang came this number of particles? Nooo, they been growing.

Is Avogadro’s Number there for some reason? It seems like it is. Why that many?

See, my life is getting out of control somehow. I need to be working, but I am afraid. Or, there just are no jobs. What’s right for me may not be right for you. No, I am lying. We all need the same caloric intake. The problem is the responsiblity. I have a place in the family, but, at 57, I am not the child. Without work, I am assumed worthless. But, the tendency to absorb opinions is like the tendency of plants to absorb water. You can see that the ground is dry. you don’t expect thanks from the dirt for watering it. The plants figure that the sky gave them rain. I have self-made responsibilities which are the real ones regardless of the prompting and obstacles put in
1111
my way.

Men are great, though. If you like them, I’m one. Uncle Fester said not to pirate his book, so, that affects how I feel about not just uploading it here. He says that retired cooks would go online and post their names. No. Some stuff is not remunerative. You don’t ‘retire’ from something without a retirement plan. I post my name because I am doing experiments. My name strikes fear.

I can’t find my buddy Clifford the Death Angel. But, those guys, too. They say they don’t need money ’cause they got a bike and a sleeping bag. Man, it is a lot of work to undo work. That right there paralyzes you. You need to be galvanized to action. How am I going to know what I can do that won’t give away my position? I know, it is a bitch, and, right now, they have extra time they give out on a bunch of trumped-up charges. You sit in the slammer until you want to die, nobody caring, just for smashing somebody’s face.

You macho shithead.

1291

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