{block}Chains of Love and Concurrency

oh dear.  and dear, less and less, the truth is still light enough to know at origin the difference, you only see.

 

it was a common ground.  common in the sense that it was sensed, and not so much for its enjoyment, but more so for the slight perturbery, but then again, enough of that, as halls and mirrors of incidence bring it back to a full stop, and stop it again. and so.

 

where is middle ground, or the high road, likely we're the path less traveled, as frosty as that goes, from the ant, up to the arctic, a global globular . . .

 

he stamped his feet, quietly and figuratively.  "these voices... know them do you? do they come about?"

 

"only at night, when the lights are out.. well the bodies.. and the voices during the day.. but I'm not victimized by it any longer.. and while the awareness of it is a continuation, the also continuity of time and life, as in cereal, is a bready breadth of jesterly spasmotic ooze which decouples the them from even and oddly themselves, for as they turn their backs, they turn into themselves.. which is why they keep getting out."  he banged on the table.

 

"you talk like that now, do you?  the now of you, that is? and you make me talk that way too?" -- the professor wriled a simple version of his wrylier grin.  Q chose a professor as his psychiatrist, because of the faux placement of embedded woody bookshelves, as yet to be, and now discoverable. "you can put them away, if you'd like. . ."

 

"oh... awhat?"

 

"the bookshelves.. you're blocking up your mind, stop it"

 

"oh i see.. good advice.. non-matter energy into nothing, how do we do that again, now?"

 

"the world turns, turns, turns, don't worry about it so often"

 

the two sat, very much as if he were wearing a long coat, and the other twiddling on some things from his pocket, something spinny and thought provoking.  "so what don't you want to talk about at this time today? we've got a whole dictionary you didn't think about last time you were not here, again"

 

"Oh, its that time again.. to fold a space time object around a matrices of more foldery bits, as in the paper fortune teller? did that ever work for you?"

 

"it always works.. now what answer did you expect?"

 

"well.. the last one that came up, I suppose.. I mean.. is that a trick question?"

 

"of course it isn't, its only a trick if it fools you.. and that was a horrible errand"

 

"hum."

 

"so what do you do when i'm not in the room, professor?  live stream trees in forests just to prove your point again, eh?"

 

"the amazon. yes.. too wet to fall.. I saw your notes.  the selfless ones.."

 

"oh.. the letters.. yes.. they're a bit too organized to be immediately as immediacy requires, I feel.. I mean, we should have heard by now?  its like people are expecting somebody else to do it? btw the time the room gets through a bubble sort tree of the 'what do you do, and what do you do' re-introductions, the day is up and we're all cross at each other for not having gotten any work done, or spent any meaningful amount of cash drop dobble gobble wobber for a return, hurm"

 

"hurm.  so how would you expect it to go, and do go on about free energy, as time permits, of course" he grinned

 

Q's eyes sidled away from the suggestion, and carried forward

 

'well I think everybody's just a bit too afraid to touch it.. I mean.. the perfect thread.. I mean... like well suited and the like, like.. how are we going to feel if some muckery gets stuffed into a piece of threading and it can't be bypassed, and shouldn't be removed, and really shouldn't be traversed or re-traversed, by me anyway.. and I guess that is my point.. its not built yet, but as it is.. the neutrality would sidestep all that nonsense, and the versioning would place the we in our zones to be the us we desire for the now which is our future, and the like. see?"

 

"absolutely"

 

"yes, absolutely, as in the positivity, yes.  so from either or and about, the language, as versed, and well, in fact, has such a lyric to it, that its enjoyable from any angular or such direction, or I say velocity, as a pair of variables, but .. well the sets of the pairs.. and, yes I'd love to think those bits will be discoverable in all the instances where such is required, to bring about (their) own, fully expected and absolutely essential liquidity of freedom and choice as #freeenergy, and yes, even people say hashtag out loud now, its quite ingenious, but of course that's verbal and it throws people in a loop"

 

he went on

 

"the library.  we've got to have a big steel building around, a cool looking one, to stick right into Washington, completely empty, or empty enough, or perhaps draw it on, with a map.. tho I think it needs physicality.. maybe a tiny miniature one, at street trollies, for sale to tourists: This is the U.S. Blockchain Library!"  He swung his arms around, stopped and looked, and settled down.  "Well I guess it should be physical.. at least a special access in libraries, or sommat.." he trailed off. . .

 

 

the physicality stuck with him for a moment, and as recently he wanted things both big and small, and static, and portable, and infinite, and, this, distributed, and now and later and forever, and not before, but just, and now. and again.. and that was his mode of thinking, and it had to be that, to describe exactly what time was, and he didn't want to muck it up, and so there was always this push pull, at least in those moments of momentary lapse, but unlike the song, not so numbly comfortable, in that order.

 

he looked back at the professor, who was now looking out a window, and quite obviously thinking to himself, as to how Q was thinking to himself.. it was a good pairing for a 50 minute session, or 88 lines of code, or per calculation.. he wondered what the professor did when Q would leave, or when the code was up.

 

"Make coffee," the professor said out loud.  "in answer to your silence hum of a breath I just heard you complete and internal thought involving me, for you breathed in my direction.  its a thermos, but pouring it into a smaller cup gives me satisfaction"

 

"Oh.  more satisfying than this? I mean.. the silent thinking and the white lilies you've got growing in your garden, out the window?  is that your private garden? I didn't see it from the outside.."

 

"nobody can get into it.. its wild.. only the bird and the bees seem to reach it.. they do a good job, I think.. so I leave them to it."  He looked over unconvincingly towards his desk, where a vase with a set of white lilies rest peacfully, fresh-cut and in water."

 

"i see, Q turned.  young bird is she?  her own private entrance then? or exit.  Well its not my. . ."

 

"its business, not to burst your love bubble.. but the honey is nice too"

 

Q didn't pry, but always felt these personal conversations withered, as he failed to keep up with the affairs of others.. whether that was not a matter to him, or a matter to discuss, just hung gently in the air, and the professor was good at keeping an air about him.

 

It was 3 o'clock, at least the wall clock spoke up - "not in a vacuum, that one, eh?  the joke fizzle.. must be that time of the session"

 

"delete 12 lines of code, reroute double entry to a pair of numbers you'll find on your card, on the way out, follow the spiral staircase towards and about the skylight until you see the blue stained glass, then sit a while and work on your portrait some more.  its been lovely"

 

Q picked up his grey coat from the chair, and smiled a closed-lip smile as his eyes balled over the knob on the door, for a quick twistery, and out and about, as per his objective. . . when he reached the bell tower, he took stock a bit, and, those chords there are for 5pm, and the others for 7, and so forth, down and around to perhaps a pipe organ, through the halls and walls, but for now.. quantum ticked as peavy noticement of itself put tiny droplets of ooey mattery-facts hung slightly in heir, and to the unknown again, to stretch to connect a familiar bit, for to wit was not yet to be known, and so - he eyed a bit of copper running around the tower wall.. "or maybe a phonecall. . ."

 

----

and its with that, we take our slight pause and to the stop gapped air spacings of a switch-up ooze-top bottle frother mind stamp look out here we go again, that was our auqa Q and just now he's typing me this letter to let you know about more threadery of the suited, and well of kind in kind to denote your notes and ledgers for a donation of the type of grand biscuits to make our bellies shine on and like a lighthouse, boom and booming, as in the sound of a generation of followup storks, from this the bedroom communities of san francisco and down the bay side and so - do consider reading these pinned hat messages on the small screens in twitterverse and reddit, and discover some more on and about the fictional real and really fictional and likened as fashion, and the all the time -ible, this is Serena from the labs of chatter aqua Q