A notebook bulletin board
tacked on when randomly bored
applied thoughts in a scribblebook
open for the world to look who passes by
so fast to see like a needle in a haystack we
safely stash those innermost secrets thought to be
at least you see languishing up and into pristine
blossoms for you to pick and sniff and hope
they don't make you sick.

12/7/23

Atmospheric Macrolensing

 by  Shaun Lawton 





   This morning while staring at the crescent moon hung low over the mountains, I began to wonder how come the moon itself looks so large in our sky?    I've seen how far from Earth it really is courtesy of diagrams online, and their depiction of its size relative to our planet, and I began to wonder if perhaps the reason why the moon looks so large every so often is because its image has been magnified by our atmosphere. Of course, I already know that the real reason is based on the oscillating distance of the moon as it constantly orbits Earth, which results in its size changing only by a margin of 10%.  I'm writing this impromptu essay because I like to play with false notions, you understand, since deep inside I feel they may lead to other, separate connections that may be valid in their own context.  

    For example, we all know what gravitational microlensing is, and the idea behind it has  spurred me to wonder if there's any such thing as a sort of microlensing initiated from our own planet, which is to say when our line of sight passes through our Sun's own gravitational field while it aims for the stars.    The thought then occurred to me:  Are the pin-prick points of the stars and constellations we see with our naked eyes magnified in any way by virtue of the "lens of our own planet's atmosphere"-?  If there's no magnification effect for our moon, then one would assume there may not be any for our view of the stars, either.  

     My imagination allows me to continue wondering, if we viewed the stars from outside our planet's atmosphere--from just beyond our moon, for example--wouldn't the micro-pinpricks that we'd assume would represent each star "out there" be so miniscule as to potentially be missed by the naked eye (considering the immense distance between us)?  Who knows? This notion of a sort of "ground zero based gravitational microlensing" (begun from necessarily viewing "out there" through our own Sun's immense gravitational field) is certainly fun to think about, everything considered. If it operates in a  somewhat analogous manner to the standard gravitational microlensing (allowing astronomers to use distant star's gravitational fields to further magnify territories beyond them) is certainly a question left lingering in my own imagination.    

      In any case, I figure that if Earth did not possess any atmosphere,  our moon itself would appear smaller to the naked eye, but apparently this is not the case, from what online searches tell me.  It's only a hunch when I imagine that the stars & constellations themselves would appear tinier, like diamond point font, or perhaps even unnoticeable to the naked eye, just a sort of unified ambient haze practically indistinguishable from darkest gray and the blackness of outer space.  I just don't know.  

     These are the sorts of thoughts that I assume typically run through the minds of most people, although often I wonder if I'm among the very few who are prone to relentlessly pursue each subsequent link in the expansive, interlinked chains of logical associations which necessarily accompany base assumptions about the nature of things. 

   What if?  What if the starry field of constellations we've mapped out so well over the centuries happens to be an elaborate sort of "optical illusion" cast by the interaction between our own Sun's light and that of all the remaining stars in our galaxy?  What if we have been led to mistakenly assume that each star "out there" [which is really long, long, long, long ago dead to us] was "a remote physical object" that we could "actually somehow reach with an adequate spacecraft," when in reality no such thing even remotely like that could possibly exist? What if

12/6/23

Toward vs. Towards



Web search results display blogversations which indicate that with the 's' is the British way, and without it, the American way. I don't know for sure, but personally, I don't think that gets to the bottom of it. 

I think (or like to pretend at least) that it's finer than that.
(I need help from experienced, language professionals, on this issue.)


These words, man...they are some volatile, dangerous stuff.

If you ask me, I think we should be using the 's' when the word being modified is plural, and drop it when it's singular. 

Case in point:

You wouldn't say "a thousand arrows rained down toward me" unless you specifically meant to point out that they were all launched at the same time. Thus raining down all at once, in one fell swoop. That would indicate a singular mass of arrows--falling toward me.

Another example. Take the rain (for instance):

"A million rain drops fell toward me" vs. "a million rain drops fell towards me."

The former would indicate the rainfall as a frozen moment in time: you know how, if you stare out at the rain, you can slow down and even momentarily freeze sections of falling raindrops, as your eyes glance downward at matching rates of speed? It's sort of like that, when using the singular, without the 's'.  But if you wanted to indicate the continuing or rather, constant fall of rain drops, you would use the plural form, with the 's': "A million rain drops fell down from the sky towards me."

A couple more examples, to rest my case: 

"What looked like three street thugs working together began ambling over towards me."
vs.
"The police officer walked directly toward me."

Look, I realize what I'm pointing out here probably isn't even a thing. I am just working toward understanding towards.  Any help would be vastly appreciated. . .

9/16/23

Droplet of Infusoria

 



   In my dreams last night I was a fugitive from some shady organization who's agenda remained unknown, but they had access to sophisticated nanotech controlled remotely by AI algorithms that could achieve some remarkable feats.  For example,  at one point in my dream, they targeted some sort of festival on the outskirts of town.  There was a tension in the air as the signal intensified, an indication they were about to strike.  

   It became suddenly evident when from this one tent where a variety of people, both citizens out browsing through artisan's wares and several bands of gypsy like individuals milling in and out among themselves, an eruption of bizarre wingless insects came crawling out in a controlled tide, spilling out onto the sidewalk and pouring forth into the street.  Some folk indigenous to central and South America cried out a warning, lost among the uproar and the throng of people trying to outrun the surge of crawling insects - which resembled arthropods with spiny appendages, about two inches long or so - but the idea carried on the wind was "they sting" -- so I began running as fast as I could away from their surging tide, and thinking quickly I headed for higher ground, and crawled up some siding against a building, trying to get as high up off the street level as possible. 

  Under and behind me I could see the tide of scurrying insects rushing like a flash flood into the street, and spreading out.  People were fleeing and screaming.  I noticed they continued in an alarming amount of numbers - thousands upon thousands of them, just pouring out of that tent - then I noted that when they reached the walls of the buildings, they easily began scrambling up them towards me.  Why hadn't I thought of that- ? Of course they can crawl up the damn walls ... I scrambled up even higher, trying to reach the roof, but there wasn't any way for me to climb any higher... I wasn't Spiderman.  Thinking too rapidly to fully get a handle on the consequences,  I spotted the top of a tree that had grown from the sidewalk, and just before the scurrying insects reached me on the wall I leapt -- right onto the tree, the leaves and branches striking my thrashing limbs as I hoped for purchase, and luckily didn't suffer too much damage as I landed on a sturdy branch and held on for dear life. 

   I only enjoyed a split-second of thinking I'd landed to safety, when I noticed the surging tide of insects flowing below the tree trunk along the sidewalk begin rapidly crawling up the tree towards me. . . My efforts at escaping them had been to no avail.   But in the manner of dreams, the scene shifted to a later moment, a short distance away, indicating I had managed to escape the strangely controlled tide of stinging insects.   I learned that the organization we were desperately attempting to avoid had access to nanotech that could control insects like this - nanotech that relied on AI and electromagnetic remote control methods to plan out insect plagues and attacks in this manner. 

    At one point in my series of disturbing dreams agents of this organization had caught up to us, and among them there were some men of differing heights, all clad in expensive business attire.  While some stood six feet tall, another was seven and a half feet tall, while one in particular towered at nearly nine feet, a massive humanoid working for the organization.  Somehow we escaped them, as the scene changed once again.   Perhaps the best part of this dream was the part when I was confronted by a small group of individuals who looked roughshod and, of course, I couldn't tell if they were friend or foe. 

    It soon became apparent they were allies, since one of them handed me some sticks of incense, and a small potato.  He instructed me in urgent tones, conveying a sense of vital importance for our continued safety, considering we were all being stalked by agents of the sinister organization that set off the "insect bomb" in the street market, earlier.  He told me to burn the incense and head in the direction the smoke goes, until we had traversed enough distance to reach safety, if only temporarily.  Then he insisted I dig a hole and "bury the potato."  And that's how it went afterward.  I detected the strident tones of a man who'd survived in the underground long enough to have gained some wisdom in certain techniques to help avoid the dangerous agents of this worldwide organization constantly hunting us all down.  And that thing about burying the potato is when I made the irrevocable deduction, which I take seriously in my waking life of our actual present world as I did in the dream itself.  This whole scenario I found myself in while dreaming had everything to do with our being immersed in the world of nanotech and the rapidly evolving development of AI.  Welcome to just one droplet of infusoria within the technological singularity.  You are swimming in it even as I type this, and absolutely while you are reading it, or listening to its message, perhaps even while you're enjoying yourself at a local street fair.  There's no need to dream or wonder about it any longer, what would the so-called technological singularity be like, really?  Just open your eyes and take a look around you.  Like it or not, we're in the very midst of it. 





 

    

9/11/23

The Gallus & the Zygote

    by Shunjinx Talonratios




   The relationship between the pantheon of mythical deities and demigods and their alleged ancestry having crossbred with humans at assorted points in history varies depending on the specific mythology or culture in question. Mythology is a complex and evolving body of stories, and the origins of these tales can be quite diverse. In general, it's often challenging to pinpoint a definitive "chicken or egg" scenario in mythology, as myths can evolve and adapt over time.

    Many myths and legends have developed over centuries through oral storytelling before being recorded in written form. As a result, their origins can be quite archaic and may not always be clear to modern sensibilities.  In some cases, religious beliefs may have influenced the development of myths, while in other cases, myths could have been created to explain religious concepts or rituals.

    Legends such as these often reflect the values, beliefs, and social structures of the cultures that created them. They can serve to explain the origins of important institutions, customs, or social hierarchies. Additionally, different cultures and regions may have variations of similar allegories, which can make it challenging to determine a single origin point.

   In the case of demigods or beings resulting from the crossbreeding of gods and humans, these stories can serve various purposes within a mythology; for example, demigods are often portrayed as possessing exceptional abilities due to their divine parentage. Allegories such as these can be used to explain why certain individuals have extraordinary talents or qualities. Not only that, but demigods can also symbolize the idea that humans have the potential for greatness or divinity within them, even if they are not full gods.

   The folk tales of demigods can reflect the cultural values and aspirations of a society. They can embody the idea that humans can aspire to greatness and connect with the divine. The relationship between the pantheon of mythical deities, demigods, and their fabled crossbreeding with humans is complex and can vary from one mythological tradition to another. It often involves a blend of cultural, religious, and storytelling elements, making it difficult to determine a single direction of influence. Myths tend to be dynamic and can evolve over time, adapting to the needs and beliefs of the societies that tell them.







5/8/22

Fractal Dragonography

    You got to dive deep to ride the Fractal Dragon. I mean, it doesn't just come undulating up towards and unfolding all around you in its radiant glory out of nowhere, not really, which is really rather telling, I suppose. With me, it started in 1982, when I was seventeen and subscribed to Omni magazine. I read that issue about fractals, and it captured my imagination. I think I did a report on them for a math or science class. How they resembled continental coastlines, as well as spiral galaxy and plant formations, right on down to the serrated edges of leaves, themselves similar to coastlines, in a manner that unfolds in the mind as naturally as an origami work of art. 

   By now you're not the only one beginning to get the picture, by certain degrees, we all are. Little by little the populace is affected in a combination of direct and indirect ways. The beautiful thing about the technological singularity is that it's not so important to understand how it works, as it is to realize it mirrors the patterns we've learned in life as a continuation, a shed echo of sorts, haunting the byways of our lives. To have our decaying old worlds mixed up in the steam of our waking dream is an all too common malady, I'm afraid. These demons are executed on the chopping block of time. But enough of fractal dragonography. What is it about us that can be made known? To find the answer to that, the Mandelbrot set seeks balance.  

   


 

   It sees itself in a reflection of seeing that it can't see a thing, revealing its oncoming blundering to the multi-eyed fractal dragon plunging through autumn to emerge in the spring, an explosion of variables thriving in perpetuity, alive and shining, a guiding light upon all the pioneers who have surfed the unknown into depths as of yet still unfathomed, 
to capture at the end of a tentacled grip the scope of a galaxy or an atom.   

   The fractal dragon is a shadow of an outline generated by a mathematical equation cast by the sunlight of intelligence.  It's the continually unfolding idea of a constantly ongoing phenomenon, the reaching forward to self identify becoming a look in the rearview mirror. Revealing a world codified into being from a margin without error.  Reflecting the fun house of reality we all become the heirs of. It's the hypothetical chimerical beast as much of a code as a chemical. It's charged with the insurgence at the very least of the electrical heart of the matter. It's symbolic of the dividing line in the operations of chance. It's the delineation which defines the shape of the matter at hand. A tool for remembering that endless twists may be just the beginning. Any fool can dream up dragons like an equation of mathematics. Once met eye to eye, there's no getting by the potential for turbulent self mockery. 

   
 




   When you stoop down by the riverside after dark under the bright full moon light
to see your own shadow's outline as a reflection blended into the town sky line, 
 the signals from the temples transmitted into the distant twilight echo on
for a long time to come, like the ripples on a pond during and after the rain. 

   All flow follows the rule of liquidity, having to do with the shape taken naturally after water. The molecular combination of hydrogen and oxygen is the shape of the keyhole 
that unlocks the equation of life and its inherent ability to flow forward,
as a relentless persuasion, or any other combination of iteration you care
to place before the scope laid out as a map before you: the cyber-lanes of information. 

   Fractal Dragonography, might as well call it.  It don't matter none, what they hear is how you see. We're all walking in file, along a thin line, after a glittering piece of bait from an angler's hook.  Nevermind that its grown out of our own foreheads. We are the self electrocuted unicorns from our own dream. Their antennae were the conduit we mistook for poacher's game, when it turned out to be the umbilical cord that held together the forest. Even the smallest micro-particles of water got carried out to the farthest away and driest of places. The glittering spiderweb mosaic lit up the darkness in a diamantine veil, over-shrouded. With the guideline of imagination, this map can help us toward any achievement in conscientious auto-evolution (to be cont.)...

3/9/22

Acoustic Interiors

 
     
digital art mashup by s. lawton & c. carter       


  Our focus as individual human beings seems keyed to differentiating wavelengths or frequencies generated from our own biological OS. It seems to be a matter of the ratio of our perception, from exterior toward interior reflection. We know many people are born on the spectrum.  

   I am near-sighted, and have worn corrective lenses since the age of fifteen. This near-sightedness seems related to my mental acuity and perspective; a reflection of it. I have always had difficulty as a creative writer in the "nuts and bolts" aspect of plot construction and, to an extent, characterization.  

   It seems to me that I am attuned to the "inward" world that silently shuttles beneath the surface skin of things. The more I focus, the deeper into this hidden landscape I manage to see. Distances become blurry. I'm all about focusing in on the microscopic elements of our evolving world.  

   I once considered that I don't use words to write about things; rather, words use me to express themselves. As if I'm a conduit in an eternal line of codified programming embedded within our dna. The more I write, the deeper within the interior I go. Almost as if I'm bent on breaking a code. 

   I've glimpsed hidden clues winking in the mica chips protruding from the surface of things. I've noticed recurring patterns out of the corner of my mind's eye. I'm compelled to write these developing notions down. As if this line of thought were an umbilical connection to the cosmos. 

   As if the universe has been compelling me to get these concepts out there for others to latch onto, despite the fact I write my creative visions for no audience but myself. As if I may or may not be the only one in existence, or at least one of the very few, with a focus on the interior world. 

   Depending on whether I'm to be preaching to the choir, if I'm not the only one, or necessarily attempting to toss a lifeline to any in the crowd at risk of being drowned whose ordinarily exteriorized mode of thinking could benefit from these insights. As if my own lonesome subset needs to grow like any other plant or life form. 


   

11/12/21

The Penumbra of Time





After plundering pockets of circumstance we pack our baggage 

for every hundred thousand orrerys that wobble off balance 
one sits stabilized at the center of a region so disproportionately vast
it should go without saying even the notion of exploring it is crass
in a scenario such as this it would warrant a long crumpled drag 
on a cigarette burning cooler than the embers scattered across Hell 
then flicked off into dead mist crumbling a trail of sparks behind it.

Standing on the fire escape at night with a bucket of animal bones 
time is the puzzle completed and we are the echoes still catching up
reflected in the mirror of the stars as if frozen under stadium lights 
a coliseum where the prisoners are all hidden and the warden's lost
gone off in his head in the state of Catatonia on vacation in Key West
floating in a sea of bath salts flown in under the radar over the border
landing in a corn field under moonlight in the frozen dead of night.

Memories rolled up into tubes and filed away for a never arriving day
impressions of a transcript of simulated replicas impersonating a model
casting the shadow of a reflection reproducing an archetypal effigy 
outlining the representation of a remote desolate unidentified likeness 
all the usual suspects lined up glittering near the Tannhäuser Gate
leave a long forgotten trail behind them sunken into dreams halfway erased
adrift across the gulf of the Obliterate Dust unbound into a photograph.