When I say that eschatological paranoia is fueled by an awareness that others are enduring a personal apocalypse now and that none familiar with its cause should remain immune to its effects, what I mean is that human biological entities have a justifiable guilt in their operating system, not that I believe the world is coming to an end.
(This in spite of my awareness of the ones who would have it so, those whose misery in the guilt-stem would evince a desire for destruction upon the rest.)
Nah. I don't believe this world of ours could ever end, even if I don't have faith in anything. (Or, maybe, because I don't have faith in anything?) Anyway, as far as the near-future is concerned, we haven't finished copying, scanning, and/or backing-up our experience yet. It's too soon to delete the universe's most sophisticated pooping animals.
Or, or, or, we're in perpetual re-write mode.
Poles abound, ye peoples! False dichotomies and veritable opposites permeate us and ours, the inundated-ly influenced by several channels all streaming the same basic formula.
Heiliges Donnerwetter, Friedrich!
False friends might be friendlier than at second sight:
In other words: seemingly random with a sheen of causality. The sheen is real. Which is why one shouldn't go around being an asshole, but there are inevitably plenty who'd say, "Why not?"
Speakin' o' patterns, here's an excerpt of a whole that tends the birds to gather at me window. In it's entirety it spans perchance the universe, spins however just beyond an hour:
Thurday Afternoon - Eno in '85
(This in spite of my awareness of the ones who would have it so, those whose misery in the guilt-stem would evince a desire for destruction upon the rest.)
Nah. I don't believe this world of ours could ever end, even if I don't have faith in anything. (Or, maybe, because I don't have faith in anything?) Anyway, as far as the near-future is concerned, we haven't finished copying, scanning, and/or backing-up our experience yet. It's too soon to delete the universe's most sophisticated pooping animals.
Or, or, or, we're in perpetual re-write mode.
Poles abound, ye peoples! False dichotomies and veritable opposites permeate us and ours, the inundated-ly influenced by several channels all streaming the same basic formula.
Heiliges Donnerwetter, Friedrich!
False friends might be friendlier than at second sight:
eventuell (Germ): adv. maybe, adj. contingentOn a micro-scale, 1s and the 0s might have the masses stuck in an either-or loop, while the combinations thereof at once convince most that we've never been in any one place before and anew. But like the finite force of elements, so would a binary system produce a predictable number of outcomes, eventually; time being the factor which'd lead to an illimitable repetition of constant consequence.
eventually (Eng): adv. ultimately
In other words: seemingly random with a sheen of causality. The sheen is real. Which is why one shouldn't go around being an asshole, but there are inevitably plenty who'd say, "Why not?"
Speakin' o' patterns, here's an excerpt of a whole that tends the birds to gather at me window. In it's entirety it spans perchance the universe, spins however just beyond an hour:
Thurday Afternoon - Eno in '85
