Noun: One’s range of knowledge or sight.
It has been seventeen days since I posted.  A minute ago I was imagining how a loader of psychic weapons might work, and, I used the number seventeen.  I had figured that if, fictionally, information balled up and then broke free, that I would use a little worm, an imaginary worm shape crawling off the page.  It would look real until it did those things that light does, such as to race across the room when the car headlights illuminate the windows through the venetian blinds in the gloaming of an early winter afternoon darkness.  The light through the slats stays still, then it retrogrades a little, then it suddenly speeds up and dissipates.  This is because I only lived in one particular house when I sat and watched that.  We lived on a “T” intersection, and, there would have been a relationship between the pattern inside and the pattern outside.  I never said, “Oh, the light is traversing the wall behind me to my left, so, that car is turning right.  It came down Tilson.”
I know this because my son can’t tie a knot, and I became angry jerking the yarn out of his hand over and over again when he got it wrong.  I flat out gave him until Friday to learn it.  Venetian blinds are a cruel joke.  The bands of light and dark look like a cell, with the prison bars.
The change from the number of words to time tells me.  If you want to hide what you are thinking, you have already been processing.  Your brain periodically calculates the shape of your body in the parietal lobe, then it transfers the informaition to the temporal lobe to place you in the environment, so you don’t hit anything.  In the process whatever abstraction you are currently carrying undergoes congruence mapping and you may mistake your point of view as independent when it’s an artifact.
It was 10:08 when I started, and 10:36 now.  I don’t believe in psychic power.  Oh, wait.  Uh, anyway, if you are hearing something, or thinking something, is everyone else?  Now, clearly, questions like, “If I wish somebody to be dead, and they die, am I psychic?”, or, “Why do I face people I hate with a scowl on my face?”, shows a poverty of imagination, so, I am just calling it science fiction.  Obviously, it does not matter the distribution of persons in space unless you are aiming a gun.  You can do it.  You have to tighten up.  If you walk up to a house and somebody inside knocks on the door, don’t say, “Come in.”  Say, “Come out.”  You almost got it.  Say, “Who dat?”.  Entonces, decide if they can come out.
Let a worm of about seventeen clean words, equivalent to a volley of 2,000 rounds from a mini gun, which take the same amount of time, vanish to the rafters as a flying rat would do, and reappear as a Mack truck with no brakes wiping out your enemies in a crosswalk.  This transformation I am a little hesitant to tell you about.  What the heck: it’s math, it’s imaginary, as all math is, and once you use it it will not work again.  There are two mathematical approaches to many problems, such that quaternions are only one, for instance, and the other one has gimbal lock.  Gimbal lock is bad, all things being equal, but … that’s what Voodoo dolls are for.
I just killed a fluttering moth who was right here.  I usually kill flies, and I decided the moth could live, but, he came right over.  He’s on my shorts.  He was in my right palm.  My hands stink anyway.
I have a weakness, meaning I am weak.  I have a list of things I call myself, not just “mi (from Do-Re-Mi)”.  The list is permanent and random.  I mean that some of the references contain some of the others.  I’m 23 letters, but 23 does not threaten me.  I’m actually no longer 58, but I am 59.  58, if you remember, looks like SB, which are my intitials.  If the morphism between some topological spaces exists, then the separation into a terrific class and a unit class would indicate to me the proper consequential paradigm for the associated action.  This is all I can do.  I can’t say how the worm changes into a catastrophe.  Normally, a person formulates questions and seeks answers.  They cannot comprehend asking the void for a question.  I do it with license plates.  If I were asking a plate a question and the plate appeared and said, “WL”, I would take that as a “well, …”, and the form would adjoin.  But, what would it say if it were intitiating the discussion?  I’m thinking that all it can do is to forward a move, like a play in a game, and to gauge your response.  I mean, I’m 59.  I have a definition for every possible permutation and combination of seven characters.  They all mean something, and I always keep in mind what I was just thinking.  I’ve seen just one character be meaningless a couple of different times in the past few months.
It’s a trap.  I don’t want to trap you first, and, I don’t want unsuspecting people to be damaged just because they did not read this, but, as far as you’re concerned, if you read license plates, you’ll crash your car.  I stood there today and read two motorcycle police license plates in the Jack-in-the-Box parking lot.  One was 29L76, and the other was a few numbers away, like 29L84.
That let the cat out of the bag.  It’s the “L”.  Asking for a question is the same as saying, “your move”, and, the move will be something like, “I’ll move here.”  I mistyped move as “mover”, so, to deal with the prime mover, we estimate psychically something must have drawn that car out of its garage that day.  You have to get personalities for the stand-in characters.  Just remember if you’re a male that “5” means your girlfriend is Rosy Palm and her five daughters.  Therefore, it is nothing but heartache to attach meanings.  None of the original ten digits are unsullied.
I propose that time is the thing making life into a game.  God can’t be named, “Time”, however, since it is the condition of “no time” which makes a believer out of you.  God is a poor substitute for a thing shattered into a billion pieces that keeps track and has a copy of God in just one of the pieces.  It is—ah!
I can’t do it, even though I did recall the word, “whicker”, when, “wicker” means wood sticks, and whicker means a horse’s laugh.  It’s the sound a boomerang makes, and a helicopter, but it’s just the sound.  The actual thing is a deadly course with many random mid-course corrections, and spot-on aim.  Psychic’s the only place it happens, and the thing always seems like it has gas to go even faster, but slows down just so you get a good look.  It makes jokes.  It flies rings around human comprehension.  And, our humans are all cornucopia.  Whoever has been correct in the past is what all our marbles are riding on.  It’s good, of course, for fulfilling prophecy, and directly evil for everything else, like science and survival.  Why I’d care is the lock.  I know to be born required decades of input to get us here.
There is a way to actually write and edit out all the bad, referring instead to good.  I am reminded of it constantly, by teachers, and by the copy of all those teachers I carry around in my head.
I want to do definitions polarizing the two realms of the imaginary and the real.  There is no “real”, of course, that I can lay on you.  The word, “real” is the same as the word, “very”.  These are hedges.  People are well-advised to make lies in the same form as truth, not to advertise that it is a lie.  I’ve picked “actual” and “virtual” after a (I don’t do things “over” time.  I don’t even know if hot things go slower) time, and I had “connote” and “denote”.  I am worried that there is a leak in mathematics and the hint is that although you have a different definition for an
abstract space, no matter who thinks of it, if someone else has a better grasp of it, it is their definition you better adhere to, or your picture gets clobbered.
ac·tu·al. adj \ˈak-ch(ə-w)əl, -sh(ə-w)əl; -chü-əl, -shü-\. Definition of ACTUAL. 1. obsolete : active. 2. a : existing in act and not merely potentially b


1. Almost or nearly as described, but not completely or according to strict definition: “the virtual absence of border controls”.
2. Not physically existing as such but made by software to appear to do so: “virtual images”.  

connotes3rd person singular present of con·note (Verb)

1. (of a word) Imply or suggest (an idea or feeling) in addition to the literal or primary meaning.
2. (of a fact) Imply as a consequence or condition.


1. Be a sign of; indicate: “this mark denotes quality”.
2. Stand as a name or symbol for.
denote. Also found in: Legal, Acronyms, Wikipedia, 0.01 sec. de·note (d -n t ). tr.v. de·not·ed, de·not·ing, de·notes. 1. To mark; indicate: a frown that



denotes3rd person singular present of de·note (Verb)

1. Be a sign of; indicate: “this mark denotes quality”.
2. Stand as a name or symbol for.
tr.v. de·not·ed, de·not·ing, de·notes. 1. To mark; indicate: a frown that denoted increasing impatience. 2. To serve as a symbol or name for the meaning of;

Hmm.  So, if I add an ‘s’ to the word, this pushes the line back such that no trigger is evidenced.  Also, if I wasn’t so magic, and had not clearly indicated that I intended to end on nines, the word count would ensure that no switching of the order had taken place.  I don’t know if I’m explaining this.  If you talk, and the source talks, then you talk again, your  word count reveals your running total.  But, the psychic rim is untouched.  No photons have yet raced through it to smooth out the hills and valleys, because the self-referent oxygen supply is never replenished.  It is set by nature too high to be discovered (unless you take meth (handle with care)).  It hasn’t been discovered, eh?
I mean, the order of the evidence won’t defy the sum of the knowledge.  No matter how I presented the words, there’d be a nine at the end.
I know you don’t like word counts, but they preserve the time order of events.  That is, if the universe is not a mistake and made of mistakes.  Just isolate the mistakes.  I didn’t say anything here today.  Only my mistakes said a truth I don’t even know.  I do know that 5 is not a nine, the end wasn’t the end of this post, it was the end of the definitions.  Hell, the posts do not assume a boundary as such.  When I went to definitions, I was going to leave the reader a pause for thought.  I’m done interpreting.  Just, what made me think that some characters remain outstanding was that a 701 kept appearing.  I know my own license plate, so, any I see can’t be that one.  The 701 was an orphan, to coin a phrase.  It was the post number before this one, I just saw when I started.  That’s why I sawr it.
So, you got things you thought up and can’t think of them now.  They are mistakes of omission.  Things you never thought, (prints) are these mistakes, or are they omissions?  When you have a life, a tranch of information dweezles away and you have a shot to retrieve it, so, there’s no God.
I’m sorry for the Schwarzeneggers with all their problems becoming public knowledge today.  I think Arnold was at his best with four-five motorcycle cops around him.




3 Responses to “Fogroven”

  1. g-spilz Says:

    You may be the best thing the web has going for it right now.

    • sbillinghurst Says:

      Ooh, feels good to read that, man. But, I like to check in with BarrettBrownLOL on Twitter, for instance, and he has these insane guys like Lulzsec, who bring down computers with weird attacks and own the internets. They’re very good and scientific.

      • Fred Willcutt Says:

        now – you can see in hindsight where you made the mistake. It wasn’t with Barrett Brown. I’d put all my money on Barrett Brown. He should make it out unscathed and further developed. Traditionally those in his role were forced under prolonged periods of deep contemplation for that very reason. Like a butterfly. But, alas, (heh) things are slightly broken.

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