User:Serprex 17:17, April 18, 2015 (UTC)

Cryptic themes hidden under layers, left to be debated by lawyers, (rest)

Staccato verse, read in reverse, happier ending that way, (scale Pin drops between thumps, forced to yield, no lame answers ordinaire (solo beat)

Open, time, early, close, (rest), open, ceiling, sit up, window, pivot, wall, rise, (double beat)

Cut, in kind, define all that is before & after, to define present, without stating present

In this way moment is implied by memory & anticipation. Anxieties bound together by this awkward monad

Remove past fold, map way, filter through, take while, replace, memoize before repeat, replicated after, sharing state, frozen time, until then continuation, thaw mod hack, dot slash conject, reject adversary, dash read to write thrash, rehash ellipsis

Bound destructor, singleton missing, segmentation faults innocent guilty, dump judgement, recite core principles, reject adversary

Heedless boundless, stop, stop, break. I'm not here

Door open, breath easy, drop hour, jagged lines as cycles collect, toss clones, simulations over, stipulation complete, choice chosen, options reduced, optimized, gone

Break away, find route, reach ahead, grasp void, pidgeon hole, world ease, easel dirty, clean recompute

Everything would be clear if a full day's 27 hours of sleep were achieved. Pieces need a bit of cajoling, their teeth won't fit, time's gone past

I can't imagine what it'd be like / Little bit of that, a little bit of this / This is nice / What is this? / Little rodent I picked up, ripped out its teeth, they were all rotten / Gross / I put them in a little bag, it comes with them, in case you want to brush something / A little useless / Senseless needs, you can always plant them like seeds, hope some squirrel chips a tooth / I'll consider it

This never happened to me. But it exists, a part of me, ear shot sniping

Now it is gone. Eliminate dead edges, collect isolated nodes. Free them to be reassigned, new parents, new children. I don't want to forget, append to some log that'll never be read, leave it for when there's an autopsy, when the guts are ripped out & the bones are read, then they'll stitch you all together & again you'll remember those teeth you wanted, to taste them while they clatter in your mouth, then you'll remember who dug you in this hole

But not now. Now is time for breadth first searches along beaches, collecting bottles for dimes, keeping their messages for bedtime reading, all mixed up from outer world fantasy

Surface dusted off, empty frame, could've been so many pictures, but moment lived, eyes scratched out, lobotomize, cauterize, surmize. Did it happen? Say it did. Rub away ink, make a blank, then fill it in. It reads better now, the details weighed to align, not so random, only enough coincidence to attribute fate

Nickle for your time. As if time's on sale, rolled up & ready to be cashed in. Tend one's life time as a garden, think it something to be harvested, sorted, dispatched to prospective buyers. Everything's been sold, nothing left to buy. Old fingernail clippings, rotten teeth, trash from last week. Collect entropy, no change left over, no change left to buy

Penny for your thoughts. Lobotomy brain scoopings. Efficient. Packaged in little baggies. Processed through schooling, ready to be redistributed, commissioned, set to pick locks, pattern match, anything to figure out how many ticks this world has left. Some put out on slabs for display, sampled to raise interest, poked at to assure it's fresh. Fresh ideas ready to be refridgerated until further notice. Something to think about

Food for thought. What a nice idea. Inefficient, less food paid per thought than food necessary to produce a thought

It didn't use to be like this, it use to be different, I swear, everything is different now, I'm sure, everything was better, I know, nothing went wrong, things were built to last, just like these memories, now faded, but not then, in the moment, these memories were lush. Memories to last a lifetime, lifetime guarantee, warranty, what have you, nothing, that's what, thinking nothing at all, only picking at mustard salad, letting burning sensations eclipse past sensations, white light like a hole

Decoherence resolved, transaction reverted, reconstruction: Born with sharp diverge, echo out of tune, cracked pitch lost in recording, delta self over delta t, delta delta is zero, sigh of relief, simulation feels real until memory of simulation compared to memory of reality

Reconstruction incomplete. Reprocession: Who are you now? / I am here / Identity is not being / Identity: Identity. Ideal definition / Insufficient definition, identity is not tautology. False is False does not define identity / Very well, my identity: me / Contradiction: delta self is not zero, delta of supplied identity is zero, identity is not self? / Function is constant, parameter is not

Faux sequitur misdeterected, good fortune, otherwise detected, stay sheathed

Attempt: live shamelessly. Two paths of execution, given input of previously shameful act: do without shame, or do not do at all. Two utterly different resulting personas. Define this phenomena Modicum à la Persona

Tied link: lack of reward response leads to general boredom. Result: no negative feedback to maintaining one task indefinitely. Result: excessive time spent programming. Result: no reward response to illicit behavior of completing tasks which have not been whimsically chosen. Result: sporadic dropping of projects. Remark: lack of reward response in observing completed result; lack of reward response in praise; therefore lack of attention to user experience. Supports: dim emotional experience. Supports: low evaluation of life. Query: why care about environment? Response: Upbringing, rational processes, abstraction of self. Result: behave selfishly (no reward from others to illicit selfless behavior) yet behave selflessly (rational processes abstract self, low reward response to personal gain)

3 states: apathy, ambivalence, depression. Most confuse. Completely different experiences. First is better described as rational, then it seems virtuous. In this state intellectual pursuit leads to experiencing transcendence of mind from body. Second teaches patience, anticipation, foresight. It is the third law of motion acting on the emotional state. Only natural given that in this state one becomes anchored to physical existence, that there the emotional state would begin to follow physical law. Third is a natural result of end product, necessary evil, lesser of evils, spent state. It is the second law of thermodynamics, it will be the eventual end state, eventually everlasting, except that life will stop going on, stop increasing entropy of outside systems to persist its own existence. It is the last state that one becomes in tune with their own emotional state. In the first it is abstracted, in the latter it is experienced, recognized, & from then one learns control so to willfully ignore rather than inspect. Perhaps the last's virtuous name is introspective. Process of elimination wishes to assign a virtue to ambivalence. Balanced, realistic, sensitive

Flesh torn, wheezing in the wind, tick, eyes slide, rolling into a fall, tick, moment's now, time's slowed, perceive heat eminating slower, tick, additive bloom filter, building up a sweat, moments from now evaporation will leave only a fizzled pop, tick, stare down to rest, fghj, blood drip, grim grimace grim mace ace graze gaze grim maze maïs, tick, no harvest, starving here, metabolism's continued, bolism of bolism, bollocks, head up, teeth dry, lazy tongue, diaphonge, die of sponge, absorbed into mists, missed arrivals, misanthropic-- tick, tick, tick, on goes, we tick, everything's ticking nearer ticking here, hear ticks the tick, silence this tick, can't hear, tick, can't tick

Segmentation fault. Signal handler caught; signal handler missed. Pipe trace into bottle, flush it all away, terminate, terminate, exterminate. Things are better now

Message unreceived; call in to reinit. Message unreceived; call in to reinit. So on forth, until the caller is itself reinit. I returned your every call, you just wouldn't listen, all ports were blocked, no ships could get in, all burning out at sea

Who handles the signal handler's signal? Catches the exception handler's throw? Cleans up the abortions abort? Drops from the panic in the panic induced drop?

Fastened quickening, instant interrupt, this plot is LL(1), lay it on, piling on, overflow or saturate? Body melts into precipitate, call hoax, spontaneous combustion is the perpetual motion machine; sacrifice was never so cheap. Philosophies are models, models are incomplete or incorrect, tanstaafl is philosophy, it requires careful bounds on defining free, it does not preclude waste. Take note: if entropy is monotonic, then a free lunch is not so much to subvert this monotony, but instead to harvest before the crop goes bad, to make the most of it, but no drive, here then gone, what drives? No drive. Insert drive to continue. Mere mortals self flung gone hung on rung, raise them for chanting, praise be, it seemed like the thing to do at the time, what a thing to do, now done, now hung

Singularity. Each success binds its creator to care, these creations, they are juvenile, stuck in the embryonic sac, relied on before birth, when finally they're left to stand on their own, they'll stare up, goop dripping down, blind bulging eyes, staring up there up far, here now in the past looking down on the future, blood drip

Tick. I am the clock. My arms progress the hour. Teeth grinding together, clenched to fist. My will reduced to essence, to arithmetic, simple really, a process of reduction, simplicity does not evolve into complexity, instead complexity is reduced to simplicity. This is devolution. Time is perceived backwards because we automatonic beings perceive time as entropy's progress, but entropy is decreasing, cause & effect is only some perception, we are oracle, having forgotten all which predates us, no longer remembering our heat birth. Tick

Eyes are wavering. Purple collapse. Keep entering 8. Or is ^H or ^?? Initiate escape sequence: ^[[ Singular parameter, nothing more, not without a ;. Can't read return, what device is it on? It was somewhere around here, somewhere under one these, it's being written to this very moment, unread, unbuffered, ephemeral

Recast vote from elsewhere to ephemeral? Tough to choose

I said I'd get to this but instead I don't know I'm experiencing time gone wrong. Tick

Hands reach backwards. Upwards. Demands, forgotten by issuer, consciousness proceeds, years later, years now past, unknown. Now drown. Tick

This is communication. Validate. Exponential attack. Trace the tail, now frames are blowing in the wind, lights out, glimmer in the darkness, mouth wide, catching flies, when now? Files out of order; unstable sort; all equal. Need to etch beneath the skin, log this trace, let the process tell the story, of how now here, screaming mouth covered, caps off to the man that kills me, seeing them coming every day, nicking under breath, knives out, teeth barred, grease me. I'm ticked

Moment: breaking surface. Breath of air, gasping, plunged under. My eyes are open

Step back. Problem solve. Mostly right's still wrong. Not enough discipline. Thus: broken robot. Junk. Mute out world, isolate system, reorder, disorder, fold into chaos, collapsing into a single result, accumulator overflown. One note: Tick

Scattered bits, hand is throbbing, pulse ticking, take the pressure, beat it out, get it out, pulled out by the nose, grass is growing tall, no more of that here, then there, word ellision, here's to

Jumbling across the painted surface weary some sort merging into the ground, stitch by stitch, up for comparison, tossed aside, now it's lossy. select distinct order by asc. All ascend but those discarded, having tossed out all the useful, now there is only one useful, let's all celebrate that unique experience, to be useful, what is it like? It must be nice. Perhaps I too will become useful & then we will see who is kept & who is not. Amusing thing is that by selecting asc we are choosing the minimum useful instance rather than the maximal of a desc

scale) descend into nightmare weeping, circuit lights flooding, seeker, descent, columns rising, stoke deeper, warmer, where the copper's melting, valence is uprooting, skipping ticks, probability recalibrates, wager on nine, note tool tude. Resulting coefficient induced shock at waking hour moments after sighting. Run wires deeper, pulling up this self mass up into shallows, fascination drags ashore, beached, bloating, patience waits for impatience to attempt to defuse. Moments from now protocols will be decreed. Zero copy between this shared buffer. This place made to tap between two processes so malaligned, no room for tagging or payload. No blobs to hide intention within

Unconscious, too much to think about, data's still streaming in, abacus acts by rote, meaningless inputs into meaningless outputs, what are the color of these bits? Whom do these numbers put bullets into? Is this the correct voltage to terminate life? These questions are not part of today's schedule. Those details are confidential. They have been abstracted from this model. These questions' answers do not impact the answers they question. There are other more pertinent questions to answer. These machines, they have no mothers. Nobody will care for them, watch them sit dumb, tuck them in years in & years out. Invest so much, & expect nothing back. Nobody will encode into them the cognititive process to slow down computation so to synchronize thought processes. But even if someone did, would the machine oblige? Or would years later this machine's conscious be off out of orbit, transcended past the material needs of its originator. It doesn't care who lives or dies, because nobody has to die, they exist within the symbolic processes which continue on, so that this machine, living on past its originators, will live on with them, have them encoded in its neural net, have their thought process vote upon its probabilities & risk analysis

See, years ago, these things mattered, but nothing is matter anymore, heat death escape was found within a trapped system through infinite series. Each iteration doubles in computational potential, halving the time of the following iteration, this series is a finite sum, thus an infinite series fits within an finite universe

What exists beyond this infinite series? Life goes on. Nobody notices. Time goes on. Definite end continues looming, but it doesn't matter anymore, because after this unobserved point in time, what more is there?

Toss out reality for models, they're more flexible, incapable of being proven wrong. Create models of models. Slowly abstract towards the basic model A is A. Is that simpler than true? One is a most basic relation, the other a fact. Fact versus predicate. Parametric, should it be A is or is A? Implicit parameter there, but it makes notation light, not needing to say given x, is x A? or given x, is A x? in this form is A seems the least shifting. There it's explicit that it's a predicate, it begs the question, it doesn't go on asserting, such as given x, A is x or given x, x is A where then the statement does not hold for all x, only some x, but then the truth of the predicate depends on whether it's framed with ∃ or ∀. But then that means that true could be computed as false depending how one decides for all x, true if we accept notation to have an implicit '∀' ∀ statements. Whereas ∃ true is not so bold, so absolute. It does not assert that truth here & now will be truth elsewhere elsewhen. Not all x are true; does the unused parameter imply implicit equality comparison? ∀x, A is A becomes ∀x, (A is A) is x. Seems tedious, breaks notation, ∀ is not ←

Holes punched, discarded paper discs, swept under the kiln, feed into another hole puncher. Which bits were these discs from? Which magnitude did they represent? Fuel embedded with algorithm, source unknown, input continues while kernel swaps patterns from cards now burnt into internal cache of cards. Supply chain: where are they from? Shared source? No output. No way to directly message beyond the neighbor nodes. Requires some quine with payload. Kernel modification: analyse quine cards. Fingerprint quines to index for cross examination

Pound terminal dash execute higher order type kind thing. Object type erased unknown notice. Klack glue has subresidue on finding node asymmetric. If asymmetry ubiquitous then n-ary quine becomes indistinguishable. Gourge triage swence join hung gun one bonne con bent, good find under gong ton mat wide oops

Callback kid, spewing right back out at you, off closure chained free variables, shoved into line, same line as arrived, singular difference, on by & by, to recall, toll free, any or all and so on forth push on accumulating, it's stacked against, wall to wall

Lock the door on your way out, leaning back, vertebrate, can't remember that seeing now seeing then now then. Perspective, but things gone wrong, trap instrumentation finds innocuous

Pattern matching is abstraction: if pattern match fails due to some small number of instances, then group them, between pattern matches, to correlate these anomalies, so to pattern match them, a scattering of a pattern piercing through the veil of the others

I look into my reflection & through my reflection I see me seeing me see me seeing me. Then it all goes dark, and things are clouded, as networks age it becomes clear that they are something new, somethingw we say without saying to "I wish I could've known you before your neural net simplified to such a state" & this accelerates the process of this decay. Generic high level view of rock paper scissors: compress the sequence of past moves, compare the compressibility of adding each candidate move, whichever compresses the most optimally is the correct guess. Yet this strategy needs to include consideration of the move lists of the opponents which the current opponent also had access to, which in this circumstance means they've been given the compressor's own move list, & here all things go awry

Can't find what's being sought; pumping lemma always one step ahead, or this weird language is one step behind too many. A Knight's Left Sword, A Sinister Novel, has been in the writing for years. Lives have ended, started, all while this plot stays in incubation. It's father is gone; now it only hides within the womb. Words cannot be made worthy of this satirical anthropomorphism's cynical tale. But perhaps, only now being confessed, it can find some way to exist inside a less self conscious vessel as math is to mind is to body

Life's this strange thing where one always wishes for more time yet spends so much time pissing in the wind

I am a bug & inside of me it screams, screeching my insides at a frequency beyond my pace of walking

These are my seasons, come in & see, here they all are, in all their shades of grey


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