I'm going to tell you some stories...

I’ll try to make them varied and interesting for you. I tell you now with every part of my self that what I will share with you is unequivocally true. It is as true as the solidity of this bench I sit at and its myriad of parts, bolts, wood, or fake wood (molded plastic). I look closely, I hunch and stare, looking deeper, trying to see the fibers that construct this object. It is, as all things are, being held together by a series of atoms (really they should be called intentions, and not atoms. Hey, my .02 cents for my fellow lab coat geeks) that at the quantum level only have a tendency to be there, and only based on observation. Kinda like when the scientist says “cheese” and the world stops for a pose.

This is true, by the way. Scientists, in their infinite wisdom, have stumbled upon the surprising uncooperativeness of matter, at the quantum level. Why can’t a chair be a fucking chair, a table a table. As Scientist peeled back the layers of the infinitely small and took a closer look, they realized that the Newtonian expectations for all things under the sun had gone out the window. Atoms, the stuff that stuff is made out of, only have probabilities, or tendencies, to exist. They only behave and literally react, when being observed. You can’t really blame the poor atoms. Who wouldn’t sit up and act “right” if you knew some scientific stiff with a clipboard was about to pass judgment on your very nature? Who knows what goes on when were not looking. Some ultimate party we’re not invited to (with lots of chick, cuz all ultimate parties are full of em). Maybe God is back there, in the realm of the unobservable, staring back, amused. The world is created upon observation, and we are the observers. Question: What if we were to all blink at the same time? The odds are against it, surely, but it may certainly be possible. Would this collective cessation of creation create some sort of cosmic hiccup? A blip in the fabric a space time were, just for a moment, we ceased to be and became a tendency in the cloud of space/time. Shaking hands with the almighty. Maybe that’s why dreaming, fucking, drinking, and getting hit in the face all feel the same at some level.

My writers bench, a green looking thing with an excellent view over a place called derrusy park. I’m right above the palm trees and can see Diamond Head volcano from here. It’s good.