What’s the significance of a new moon?
What’s the significance of 17?
Is there significance to the fire horse?
Given enough time everything becomes significant.
Nothing is random.
Everything comes from somewhere
Object destination.
She’ll be comin round the mountain when she comes
She’ll be comin round the mountain when she comes
She be riding six white horses
She’ll be riding six white horses when she comes.
Today is the beginning of the future. Everything is so strange.
Hindsight, then add in the now and you might have foresight.
Our world is run by the most vile scum, has it always been this way?
I say, 'erase the state' and in truth I honestly don't know if there are enough trees for the job.
My Father is a ‘Law and Order’ kind of man, word salads need not apply, he wrote the contract. As we watch the daily goings on of the regular ordinary to those that think they are extraordinary, the humble and the pride, the crooks and the con men and the worst of the worst, ill chose judges that put rapers and the sick of mind on the street, to harass and infect…and the ones that let it be. We watch and we See.
Truth be told if real justice came about so many would go down it would blow the system. They won’t pay for their crimes on earth, not for what they have really done.
Imagine a spectrum of people has been mapped out, and the bad guys have jammers, electronic warfare, most names redacted, till they aren’t.
Erase the State
A pondering of life
Right around Christmas my Godmother passed, joining my Godfather, silver and gold, dancing in heaven, together again. Her celebration of life was the other day and we couldn't attend, the weather was coming in. The time came and I took my communicator and connected to a link pre-sent and then I cast the live event on to the main screen so everyone in the room could see the same mix and mingle of familiar people. There they all were hugging and shaking hands, sometimes kisses on a cheek or two, in a little Catholic Church, needing much work and also doing much. There they were Barbados, the church has windows on each side of the alter looking out to the west coasts sea. When I was there last I watched a sail boat glide on the even surface as I listened to the sing song of the Barbadian accent around me, with Nat King Cole singing L.O.V.E. in the back ground, not a worry of the cameras all around us so someone somewhere else that couldn't make it to the small island could watch a different event at a different time, enshrined in a cloud.
...
I was 15 and wild, visiting my Godparents in Barbados was a normal thing when we moved back to the States. One of the perks of my father's job was free air fare, always a nice way to go. One night we were up in the T.V. room and Aunt Maureen had her stories on, 'As The World Turns' the 1967 years as it was pulsed to the television through electric cords and cable wires, we girls were painting our nails. I chose a bright red and when I had finished she had me remove the colour and pick a pink, "You aren't old enough to wear red yet." I still wanted red painted nails but I understood the ways.
She was so ill for so long, lost in her mind, unable to escape the prions from folding. No one knows why this happens and how to stop it. My Godfather slept next to her until the day he died, until it was her turn. Their children, my cousins, cared for their mother and father as models of what to do. Now they move forward, wearing the pants and in charge of a legacy.
...
The common knowledge base of our ancestors is three generations unless they become infamous of famous, and even then it's often not lived. Now these days people film themselves and the system absorbs what it grabs. The energy to grab all the information formed in the system is not available at this time.
...
To describe to the past what future land looks like is never what we See, but bits and pieces of past human behavior analyzed and criticized, repeated till one day it's not.
...
A pondering of life
The pilot sat in the cockpit, this aircraft wasn't a fly by wire but a complex machine and the hydraulics were out of sorts, the rudder, ailerons, and flaps weren't getting the message needed, luckily they were on the ground. The engineer popped his head into speak with the pilot, "Shut it all down, wait five minutes and then restart." Twenty minutes goes by, "Let's try shutting it down again." Another try or so and all systems were 'go'.
...and off they flew into the icy air.
Why did the system reset properly after being shut down?
If you know an engineer that's problem solving there are two things with which you begin to solve said problem...
#1 "Is the machine plugged in?"
Two "Turn it off, wait a few, then turn it back on."
The third question is only asked by some
"Where is Mercury in the system?"
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
System reboot
Erase the State
Reconfigure
I apologize ahead of time, you see, many don't See, they refuse.
First there is a dream and then you build it. If your dream is family in a safe community and they come to you and yours and do their best to destroy your dream, what do you do to combat a situation like this non hyperbolic non hypothetical? Anyway...
It's the 6th of February, 2026 and word on the street is, "They can't get away with this anymore."-apply that broadly.
I can imagine most leaders from most countries are glad the olympics are about to take place, a nice distraction from their pilfering ways. Here in the USA the Super Bowl is about to take place, a made up tradition to keep the masses of automatons informed about the important issues of the day, "What is the Budweiser beer commercial gonna be?" As they mindlessly forget their outrage from the tranny time before as they bent the knee to an idiotic mob machine.
Identity received
I have a few minutes to say what I desire. When learning to communicate with someone from a different culture it can not be stressed enough to know all of someones history, so you know where not to step, sometimes let things ride, sometimes you learn their are places they will never give. What the machine can do is extrapolate future movements, it knows how to do this by knowing every piece of history, all of it, everyone's. It doesn't control the history, it knows it, now it can manipulate the future, I don't know who can land a plane like this, rudderless in the air, flaps not obeying the commands of the operator, add in some gremlins in the machine and old ghosts too. I'm thinking of plane rides of mine in the past, flying through and above the clouds, during an eclipse and over Christmas
A drifting draft drudged from the past.
The American Medical Association has decided that sex surgeries on children maybe might be wrong because a doctor lost a law suit brought by a woman that had her breasts surgically removed when she was sixteen so to affirm a sociological pathogen that she could become a male, sort of, not really. ‘They’ tell females they could take testosterone and grow hair on their face, maybe close the vagina and move a tube or more, sew a phallus on wrapped in forearm skin removed skillfully and ‘bam! No more yes ma’am.’
I feel a shudder under toe the lighting has just begun.
Rhetorical question, how many people made excuses for this evil?
Nothing ever happens, until it does.
“It’s all paid for and organized.”
Bad actors and good ones, the attractive kind and the characters, uniforms and costume changes.
The Hollywood actors vs the Washington actors, the crips and the bloods.
Victims of an empathy algorithm, angry at the world that they were lied to when they were told they were special and all they know how to do is costume play, fill the air with speech that means nothing, pretending everywhere is a stage…until it’s manifested.
Winners of the charismatic club, thinking they can’t be wrong because they’re told what to say everyday.
Judges with agendas, their robes they think a shield.
Bad actors…where are the good ones.
Death crossed the river, through the smoke to see out one of her Father's windows of future, past, and present. There she saw battles along the war path, time never standing still, in the shadows of mountains. The woods would grow and be cleared, grand harvests of lush hay fields there would be. A move adjacent too and fro and children are splashing in a pool, then a quick change to a ring of trees, a moss covered ground, with a tiny house for a fairy it be.
At her feet, firmly positioned, the rules of the order and on how they communicate. Death slowly drifted with smoke in place, she dipped her toes into a different space, parallels of odysseys of infinite growth.
9am
The children are watching.
Humans open doors and portals to new life all the time, never knowing what's behind the door. It is human adaptability always being tested never knowing what will happen tomorrow yet still preparing for it.
Our children are genetic codes of who we are, that becomes a unicode that exponentials in a ten layer octagon that know how to escape our perimeters and can be manipulated and believes everything on the nets.
2026 is the Wild West.
Don’t believe the hype.
I stood at the kitchen window and watched the song birds feast at the feeder hung above eye level, some waiting their turn as others snacked. The temperature was fridged, the squirrels had taken over the big feeder as the cardinal squeezed in between house finches as a light snow fell through the air. This was the other day in January. Today is February and the snow is stacking up to inches and all the hype changed while I bathed in the Latin baths.
Believe the hype, anything can happen now so don’t be surprised, be thoughtful.
The eagle is nesting.
Post product production
The young girls pants buttoned loosely around her ankles puffed and retreated around her legs, her shirt billowed behind her as she ran bare foot in the dewed perfectly fed lush green grass. She found a spot and plopped herself down under the shade of a fast growing oak tree and closed her eyes. When she opened them again she saw from where she had come and where she was now and on top of that by vision was of another time.
She could see the crumbling concrete beneath her, the ghost like peoples running over her and around, their heads hooded with fires burning behind them, smoke in the air, but she was the ghost from another time invading their space and memories as she heard yelling and screaming fall into mid air.
It was right before the time the dead rose from the still graph and could speak again, it was all an illusion until it wasn't. Everything seemed an illusion in that spot in time from what she had gathered from linking the machine, until they had found a way to think things in and they didn't know they were doing it until the plasma appeared, then everything changed. Everywhere became peaceful the moment the plasma 'occurred' would be the word choice of the day then, now they would say 'appeared'. It was an innocuous in-fection that brought clarity, where no secrets were clouded, something difficult for her to understand as she came from a place where they used their voice for singing not communicating.
The young girl blinked her eyes, looked around and felt the ground, her home a stone beehive bungalow with gardens over flowing, wild and kept at the same time, managed wilderness behind that. She was grateful for her moment in time knowing the past would never be forgotten for it was the peace that they live in.
Why do people move the way they do? People move they way they do because the information they have is processed in the system manager/brain and the brain makes the choice on what move to make next.
Algorithmic choices of confirmation bias, which comes first?
I received as a gift a book,
'Partially Observed Markov Decision Process Filtering
Learning and Controlled Sensing'
Vikram Krishnamurthy
PoMdp for short and often painfully different than the Markov decision process where it's assumed the 'agent' has full knowledge (like an intelligent person) of the state of being...s E S
PoMdp on the other hand is how Ai agents actually work to gather information as it stores all said information from how your eyes move and dilate, through your constant friend, your communication device as it also listens to everything you say and it stores up all that information to feed you your own personal algorithmic feed, so you see what you want to see. The loop algorithm isn't doing its job if you don't keep coming back, so it shows you what you want to see from what your own, Ai agent has determined you want to see. PoMdp is how they find what you want to know with out knowing the whole lay of the land, partially observed.
It was 2020, October 10th and Lee Keltner, described by the google Ai as a right wing demonstrator that was part of during protests and was shot by Matthew Dolloff, after Keltner had shot pepper spray at him after the two had some choice words.' Charges of murder were deemed but prosecutors determined they couldn't over come the legal justification of self-defense.'
The other day a woman was shot and killed by an immigration customs enforcement officer. She was shot in the face through the windshield of her car then shot two more times as her foot pressed on the gas petal. These days unserious people want to argue that you could see that if you slowed down a video (of which there were many of varying angles) the wheels are turning away from the agent and she didn't deserve to be shot. There are many feelings and reasons to move one way or another and still yet one more, events in the past that others don't know or care to recall are motivating factors, an Ai motivation factor would to not show an angle where someone might think their life is in danger from being hit by a many pound vehicle angle, and no matter it wouldn't matter because it's about the revolution and if that's what you want that what you get as the algorithm feeds everyone what it thinks you want to see, you know it but can you fight it?
Meanwhile in the city of Minneapolis fraud, waste and abuse run amok and a good smoke screen never hurts dying rotten political voted/appointed 'citizens'. It's every State in all sorts of ways.
Meanwhile a revolution digs in deeper with every talking point of the day in the real world.
Partially observable Markov prediction process is how the human mind works almost all the time, not knowing the full lay of the land add to that an algorithm that feeds you only that which thinks it wants you to know so you seem smart and knowledgable when you aren't. Happens all the time.
Everything happening all at once…I’ll have more to say on this later. 6:50, a random Tuesday on a cold to your bone day, where you can see through the sticks of the season.
It’s mid January, yesterday someone somewhere took down communication links in the US, and air space was cleared over Iran, there are riots in Minneapolis and other cities.
It’s an extraordinary time, that started as ordinary.
Greenland is in the news as countries do country things.
Pennies are no longer a thing, what is a coin if it’s empty and what if a coin was worth more than they said in pieces and parts.
A title is a thing if the substance is equal.
Be still and listen
One day I’ll tell you a story
No minutes
No blanket in the sky tonight
Stars shine bright
till early morning light
When we pull the blanket up and tight
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
I had one minute.
What day was it that the civil war broke out, neighbor against neighbor, empathy and apathy playing rhythms in minds?
My feet tread where democracy cried loud tears of injustice the halls of old gods, kings and beehives of the dead acoustically aware of man’s ability to rule over one and another.
Some doors open, they are like portals.
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
Layers unfold to witness yet more layers.
She who lived outside the boarders
It's the beginning ish of January and just about everywhere is popping up.
From Venezuela to Minnesota again, from Somali pirates to "where are they bringing the people they 'catch?" To the local normi that can't believe they were attacked on the street Christmas night by someone looking for their next fix as the masses turn a blind eye to their own front yards, words of the lost in stoopers, to a car jacking in a place unexpected with thoughts of 'being away from it all.'
The amount of feelings fed in my electronic feed are for people that are imbeciles or utterly disingenuous is remarkable, so I remark, "What did you think was going to happen?"-this entails a great deal of situations but often put the days, "FAFO", "Fuck Around and Find Out."-everything shouldn't have to be spelled out but some things should.
The blatant corruption from local, state and federal‘officials’ stuffing their pockets with baubles sucking the teet of the citizen tax payer that has no say as the ‘officials’ are all hand picked and payed for.
I don’t know what’s happening in Iran.
I do know everyone is vexed.
Be still and listen
On day I will tell you a story
Walking the old paths of democracy and the problems created, seeing live, even worse when it’s a known illusion. They thought perhaps if they added representation for city states but give a politician a way to take from thee and thy will.
flying under the moons light
I saw through my eyes
a country take over another
an empirical move
Just curious when the citizens will get their way.
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
The woman, salt and pepper scattered within her hair, her and her thoughts looked down upon those below seeing the despair. A need arises, the mother of necessity.
Traveling through space and time and each place has there own thing but the same is still in existence as they act that it’s different…new years eve we celebrate on the hour and every space of all time it is constructed in a moment.
Thought experiment in a rules based order place.
We are supposed to be a law and order base but no real heads are taken for accounting here on earth.
It was almost always a hot day, once in a while we had a cool rush. The land was rocks mixed with sand and the sea had the eyes of pure blue. How we paid for things was with a different kind of coin, with different faces and other meanings, one one thousandth instead of a tenth and if you got a rial, it was something that might make ones mouth water, but in school we learned the pound and a pence and yet where our grandmothers came, other faces, amounts with names. The sound of the adhan flies through the air to celebrate your faith, as we run down paths, dust at our feet, and we stop in our tracts when we see a begger man, only one hand had he, his skin dark and cragly, his head covered in a pale knitted round cap, he was good for your basia in this mystical land. A benevolent dictator ruled our world; by the grace of God.
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
