I wish to sing the praises of those souls who are not known, yet do a lot.
This is in contrast to the well known “somebodies” who are known simply for being known and actually do surprisingly little.
I’d rather be a do something nobody
than a do nothing somebody
any day of the week.
Today’s rant completed.
Seated, content in the knowing that I am understood.
My robot has learned my tendencies, my idiosyncrasies, and my (not always pleasant) habits.
It anticipates me.
And I know inside that it has needs that must also be fulfilled.
I understand you, and will be here for you until I am committed to the soil.
Would this qualify as science fiction? We’re almost there, imagining what it will be like.
Little stories are fractal insects.
Evolving symmetrically in all directions.
Part of our neural design, an intimate part of our physiology.
Even the human heart has fractal properties, both physical and meta-(physical).
Our obsessive facial recognition evolution makes us see faces everywhere.
Similarly, our story DNA forms narrative in even the tiniest fragments of song.
no one else in the world.
i had to do this.
there is no one else in sight.
they were the only ones left.
they were the only ones who mattered.
he had to be with me.
she had to be with him.
i wanted to kill him.
i started to cry.
i turned to him.
True story. Google has been feeding it’s Artificial Intelligence with more than 11,000 unpublished books, including 3,000 steamy romance titles. In response, the AI wrote this 55 word story above. I rearranged a couple of sentences, because I’m human and I can do what I feel.
Nameless, the ant, walked in line with her sisters.
“Thoughts” did not so much enter her mind as influence its direction.
Do or Don’t. Pretty binary.
Do as the rest of the colony.
Don’t question as questions lead to insanity.
Bring back what you gather, be grateful to have a job in the new administration.
“Is Humor Death’s mother in law?”
Asked the Beat poet rhetorically.
Before we answer that, who is Death’s wife?
Logically, that would be Love.
And you have to feel for Death.
Always being told he’s not good enough,
not doing what he should for the family.
It’s a thankless job being the Grim Reaper.
Women Are the Orange Blossoms of the World
John Lennon wrote,
“Woman is the nigger of the world.
Yes she is, think about it…”
He had a point.
As offensive as it may be.
But women are also what brings
each and every one of us
into the world.
The time has come to praise,
thank and respect them
as they naturally deserve.
Happy International Women’s Day!