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Messages - Cramulus

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1
Intermittens written submissions / Re: Editors thread for IM11
« on: May 31, 2013, 02:07:59 PM »
Either, whatever tells the story best.

You know what I would personally be really interested to read? A brief summary of all the real-life Discordian groups you've met.

2
Intermittens written submissions / Re: Editors thread for IM11
« on: May 30, 2013, 01:40:07 PM »
Right, let's scrap the current schedule. I was really trying to burn into something quick, but since then I was suddenly employed in a school contract i didn't see coming and really can't dedicate any kind of time during weekdays.[/quote[

That's eris for ya!

Quote
Cram, I'm happy to help out in any way you like, provided I can do so mostly on the weekends. I just want to be helping someone else's vision for this one, more than commanding the direction myself. Though layout isn't really high in my skill-set.

I think I can handle the layout -- or at least hack at it. It's kind of fun for me because it's on the border of my skill set. :P But it is taking a while.

What would be helpful: Selecting pieces for inclusion, giving them any necessary edits

And now that I've had a really good squint at what we've got: I feel like a lot of these pieces are good, but nothing REALLY jumps out at me as the kind of thing you'd write a headline about. So IMHO we're still in need of a star piece.

I know you're busy with your book, but if you have any ideas for a fresh hot article about Discordia, something we want to tell the world of Discordians, this is a good moment for it.




3
All Else / Re: A few of my favorite things
« on: May 30, 2013, 01:30:03 PM »
Thanks so much ElSjaako! Very very helpful.

4
Intermittens written submissions / Re: Editors thread for IM11
« on: May 29, 2013, 04:39:31 PM »
that is a pretty crazy schedule considering you've bowed out of the editing and layout

I really don't want to get stuck making this whole thing myself

5
All Else / Layout Concept
« on: May 29, 2013, 12:36:38 PM »
I found some public domain magazine layout files and spent a little bit making a short mockup, mainly as a proof of concept:
http://www.scribd.com/doc/144394990/Intermittens-1-29-layout-concept?secret_password=v5ooyboitonkpl0m3ss

thoughts:

-The drawback of this layout is that almost none of the submissions perfectly fit the article space. It reminds me of why real magazine editors require articles to be a certain length - 200 words, 500 words, 1000, 2000 words. It's taking a lot of coaxing to get the material to fit. Obviously the template can be screwed with, but the more of the original layout we can use, the less work this will be.

-This underscores the need to pick out which content is IN vs which content gets CUT. If people could please please nominate their favorite stuff, it would make these decisions much much easier. Dingo, I know you said "I don't want to be an editor" but you gotta get your hands dirty! Don't make me do this alone!

-The majority of the submissions are fractalcult related, which almost makes me want to make it a fractalcult themed issue. But I also don't want to be a spotlight hog, and there's a substantial amount of material NOT from fractalcult. Could use some advice about how to position this stuff. I always hate laying out a project that's supposed to be a collaborative group thing and then putting in 80% of my own content, you know?

-The current cover is a riff on the internet meme "I am 12 and what is this". I love trip's cover design, I just don't think it's a very good joke. It's not terribly Discordian and if you're actually familiar with the rather obscure meme, you'd realize we're not even using it correctly --- unless the magazine is filled with adult content.

-On the note of content - Magazine layout suggests magazine style articles. Most of our submissions aren't really magazine themed. I mean, magazine articles are usually things like tips, advice, journalism, stuff like that. Fiction doesn't look quite right in this format. A few of the submissions work perfectly - like bwansen's discordian chakras - because it reads like a wacky health article.  I can't help feeling that if we had a real theme, it could act like a writing prompt which we could use to solicit a few more submissions.



6
Intermittens written submissions / Re: Headline material
« on: May 27, 2013, 07:20:08 PM »
whoops this should be in the all else category, mybad

7
Intermittens written submissions / Headline material
« on: May 27, 2013, 07:19:08 PM »
Which of the submissions should be the "front page" articles?

it would be rad if people could nominate their five favorite text and art submissions

8
Intermittens image submissions / Re: Fractal Cult Images
« on: May 17, 2013, 06:24:17 PM »
IS the design on the CTC images yours too Cram?

Also do you have the original image for the Darth Cupcake image people are having fun with?

the CTC images are mine, there are five in the set

I do not have the original of that DCup image


9
Intermittens written submissions / Re: Editors thread for IM11
« on: May 16, 2013, 04:26:25 PM »
I just posted such a shitload of stuff, the prospect of editing it kind of intimidates me


btw dingo (and other editors) feel free to peel my name off any submissions if it would help them sit well. I've done that with other book projects so that it doesn't look like I wrote the whole thing myself. :P

10
Intermittens image submissions / Re: Fractal Cult Images
« on: May 16, 2013, 04:15:34 PM »


TWO HANDS
by Sondra London



JAILBREAK
by Sondra London





by sondra, obviously :P



by Outside The Wall



by sondra







by Outside The Wall






CULT FRACTAL
sondra




HANUMAN’S DREAM
sondra




by Elfboi



by Bwansen








by enki

by triple zero and magritte













11
Intermittens written submissions / Re: Fractal Cult
« on: May 16, 2013, 04:15:22 PM »
Quote from: cram

Fractuplets

You start with a picture of the whole universe Mandelbrot

and lean (like a friend is about to whisper a secret)

             closer            and closer

until you see the earth

 until you see the nations

  until you see the cities

    until you see the streets

     until you see the people

      until you see the veins

       until you see the cells

        until you see what matters

———and there’s the Whole Mandelbrot again out the passengers side window, we wave to the universe like kids on a road trip————-

zn+1 = zn2 + c  …. this is what it says:

our body and our cities are cousins 

our nations and our selves are cousins

our molecules and our big ideas are cousins

the big and small are

structural Siamese twins

                       triplets

                 quadruplets

             pentuplets

 Fractuplets,

               you and I




Quote
caps like they’re made about 28 and lives in the window disappears or if it’s any constellation, you are a retarded impulse!

my brain just sold her drugs so easy to read my cock

It’s poop you encounter. A lion answers, ”that loser makes me shit”

that’s not sure what’s crackalackin need right on the fuck those guys because they’re talking about you

how many oranges are you joyously rotating on?

six oranges in question

stuff in my office is only one big orgy


still the middle school have blossomed into chicks who have only banged in three+ years

jesus [dildo icon]s dildoes

bring and brag is an oft overlooked chest full of people in ohio

hey pang hates moon light, having a half dozen of his blog

two modes: compromise, and dictate.

but what is a reptile podling sex slave or something

sure, they’re a bunch of the challenge, you get a mission which were just people worship anything awesome this game called ”from clowns both had a bedroom

and while talking on principiadiscordia.com or the chance to kill the evil wine drinking british press won’t publish it, but we need somebody moralizing about my food safety protocols” is a protest to a long haired butt monglers

hoboner


Quote




bees live in hexagons

humans live in cubes and rectangles

the self tessellates

and the macro is micro shaped


“If you don’t like the two party system, at least support the corpus callosum”










Quote

    Will Turner: The Black Pearl?
    Jack Sparrow: Do you want to know what it is?
    [Will Turner nods]
    Jack Sparrow: The Black Pearl is everywhere. It is all around us. Even now, in this very room. The drink would not satisfy. Food turned to ash in our mouths. And all the pleasurable company in the world could not slake our lust. You can feel it when you go to work, when you go to church, when you pay thy taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over thy eyes to blind you from the truth.
    Will Turner: What truth?
    Jack Sparrow: That you are a slave, Will Turner. Like everyone else you were born into bondage.
    Elizabeth Swann: You like pain? Try wearing a corset!
    Jack Sparrow: Born into a prison that you cannot smell or taste or touch. A prison for thy mind. Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Black Pearl is. You have to see it for thyself. This is thy last chance. After this, there is no turning back. [opens hand, unveiling blue pill] You take the blue pill, the story ends, you wake up in thy bed and believe whatever you want to believe. [opens hand, unveiling red pill] You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.
    Remember: all I'm offering is wearing a corset. Nothing more.
    [Will Turner takes the red pill after a few moments of thought, and washes it down with a mouthful of water from the glass next to him]
    Jack Sparrow: Follow me.




Quote

    Mr. Burns: Harry Potter. We meet again.
    Bart: Voldemort?
    Mr. Burns: Yes. You see what I've become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another, a mere parasite. Unicorn blood can sustain me, but it cannot give me a body of my own. But there is something that can. Something that, conviently enough, lies in thy pocket.
    [Bart attempts to escape.]
    Mr. Burns: Stop him!
    [Smithers blocks Bart by snapping his fingers, causing flames to block off every exit.]



Quote
“This next part I don’t remember so hot. All I know is I got up from the bed, like I was going down to the can or something, and I walked over to the TV set and turned it on to a dead channel-white noise at maximum decibels. Only, I missed. I didn’t connect. This is what the whole hep world would be doing Saturday night if the Nazis had won the war. It probably hurt him a little bit, but not as much as I wanted. Not even the Sun God wants to watch. It probably would’ve hurt him a lot, but I did it with my right hand, and I can’t make a good fist with that hand. Don’t waste any time with cheap shucks and misdemeanors. Go straight for the jugular. Get right into felonies.”

—    Catcher in the Rye / Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas


Quote
“What makes the desert beautiful,” says the little prince, “is that I’m just going through a phase right now. Everybody goes through phases and all, don’t they?”

—    The Little Prince / Catcher in the Rye


Quote
“It is the stillest words that bring on the bullet. Between the eyes of every endangered panda, static comes on doves’ feet.”

—    Nietzsche / Palahniuk


Quote
7:00 - 7:10 AM - Daily Fractal Cult Chant (in Julia Hall)

In 60 seconds, say OM once.

 In 60 seconds, say OM twice.

  In 60 seconds, say OM 4 times.   

   In 60 seconds, say OM 8 times.   

    In 60 seconds, say OM 16 times.   

     In 60 seconds, say OM 32 times.   

      In 60 seconds, say OM 64 times.     

       In 60 seconds, say OM 128 times.   

        In 60 seconds, say OM 256 times.   

         In 60 seconds, say OM 512 times.   

Then we’ll have breakfast.


Quote
Cult Leader

Bung Fu the Fool been in the Fractal Cult for a few weeks but never seen the person in charge of it. Nevertheless, he had been hearing a lot of talk about a Leader. He started asking around about the guy, hoping to meet him in the flesh.

After a few days, Bung Fu concluded that nobody in the Fractal Cult has actually met the Leader in person. Or if they have, they have been instructed to be really dodgy about it. They always said these vague mystical things about him like,

“He is greater than all of us,” or

“When you eat, you feed the leader,”

and most infuriating of all, “The Leader transcends the duality of self and the other.”

What the fuck does that even mean? Bung Fu cursed to himself as he searched. Bullshit cult probably doesn’t even have a leader.

Finally, Bung Fu got a hold of his old friend, the monk Nopants. Specifically, he got ahold of his neck and slapped him, “Who is in charge of this cult? Give it to me straight! I’ve gotta know!”

Nopants calmly answered, “Let me ask you this - who would the cells in your body say is their Leader?”

“Uh, me,” said Bung Fu quickly.

Nopants stuck out his tongue. “Slow down. Listen - the person who just said ‘me’… your cells have never met that jerk cult leader.”

Bung Fu dropped the monk and slapped his forehead. Nopants muttered to himself, “And if they ever did meet him, they’d probably grab him by the collar and slap him.”

          It took a few hours, but eventually Bung Fu was enlightened.



Quote
“Love, which absolves no beloved one from loving, looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was much like another, and the sea is always the same.”

—    Dante / Kerouac / Conrad


Quote
So I got in my car and drove deeper into the Universe

I tried to leave the Fractal Cult compound today. I haven’t been off the reservation in a while, I just assumed we weren’t allowed to leave. So I kind of expected that I’d be stopped by guards or something.

I was standing in the parking lot, fumbling with my keys, when I saw one of the Brothers walk by.

He shook his head at me. “You can’t leave, you know.”

“Are you gonna try to stop me?” I asked him, getting into my psychic kung-fu stance.

“No no, nothing like that,” he said as a butterfly landed on his head, “I mean it’s impossible to leave. There’s nothing outside of it. It’s the whole universe.”


Quote
“Man is free at the instant he escapes from the deep to the shore, turns to the perilous waters and gazes.”

—    Voltaire / Dante




12
Intermittens image submissions / Re: Fractal Cult Images
« on: May 16, 2013, 04:03:11 PM »

A Portrait of the good Professor Cramulus
perhaps suitable for an "about the author" or something


by Enki








by Triple Zero




Quote

by Small Town Geek

Steal ideas, steal pieces, and make your world a collage of things you’ve found. Make new things from bits of old things. Revise. Reinvent. Renovate. Take a broken coffee mug and make it something else.

Things are what you think they are; no more, no less.

Maybe.

Take this and make something.


by enki




Dream White Plains
by Cramulus




Fnord Schizo by Sondra London






by Sondra London

Quote

((Note: Image was not created by the fractal cult. Just wanted to share my thoughts on it since it seems relevant to we fractal cultists))

    What about Discordianism? I think we’re the opposite of a cult. Cultists tend to experience a de-individuation - they can’t tell the difference between their own thoughts and the group’s thoughts. When you get really deep into the cult, your own thoughts become alien, you identify more with the group persona and any variation from it seems wrong.

    In Discordia, the opposite tends to happen.

    Still dangerous.




A Thought Without Words by Small Town Geek





A Thought Without Words by Enki



A Thought Without Words by Cramulus



by deeemmtee




by Enki




HUXLEY SHAW by Sondra London



VONNEGUT DOSTOYEVSKY by Sondra London



SURREALIST REVOLUTION with Mickey Rooney and Carmen Miranda
by Sondra London




by triple zero




The Strange Attractor of Chaos Magic
by Bwansen





by Enki

by enki


obviously enki





Quote

sondralondon:

    The Cabbage Cabal, a Concupiscent Conspiracy







by triple zero

















both by cram




found art by Zengmar









Flock
by Cram



by Bwana Honolulu






13
Intermittens written submissions / Re: Fractal Cult
« on: May 16, 2013, 04:03:01 PM »
Quote from: enki
I have mentioned before in passing the connection documented between popular music and occult practice. I have come to the tentative conclusion that this is a subset of the general connection between occult movements and economic elites, and how this relates to leisure-class societies.

Most of us spend a large portion of our time working. It is anomalous to have large quantities of leisure time prior to old age, but there has been a leisure class since at least the establishment of Eridug more than six thousand years ago. The leisure class is defined not by not working, but instead by not needing to work (and thus having their occupation driven by interest rather than economic factors). My thesis about leisure class occupation is that there are three primary categories of popular leisure-class occupation, one of which is dominated by mysticism.

Those classes of occupation available only or mostly to those who are not viscerally and mortally concerned with the accumulation of money are: physical philosophy, abstract philosophy, and time-wasting. Physical philosophy contains such things as tinkering, home improvement, small-scale engineering, painting, sculpting, scientific experimentation, electronics, model trains, and computer programming — things that are ostensibly potentially profitable but whose potential for profit is a gamble. Abstract philosophy has potentially higher stakes and a lower success rate, and contains both those things we think of as philosophy today, mysticism, the occult, and more rigorous practices like mathematics. Time-wasting contains things like casual golfing — things that are done to fill leisure time but not done in such a way that money could be gained from them.

A rock star is not initiated into the occult by some record-company-sponsored ritual. A rock star, when he or she makes it big, no longer has to work day and night to make it big; there is more leisure time (though I am not implying that rock stars are slackers; a self-made band, as opposed to a group manufactured by a record company, must generate enormous quantities of flukes before managing to get signed — Radiohead sent out demos for years under the name On A Friday before they managed to push out Pablo Honey — and an established artist can have those flukes published rather than sending demos to yet another company). If you no longer have money woes and you can get away with putting in a third of the work you have for years, you can either maintain your current effort (and potentially burn out) or you can take up those things that you could not before. As a result, The Beatles made Crowley and Hare Krishna references, and Bowie writes songs about the Sephiroth. It is easier to get into the occult in a group already saturated with occultists and ex-occultists, and the popular music scene is such a group. But, other notable successful musical artists have taken up building instruments or painting or piloting commercial aircraft.




Quote
Kerouac vs Hesse

When you throw a rock into the water, it will speed on the fastest course to the bottom of the water. Somewhere along the line I knew there’d be girls, visions, everything; somewhere along the line the pearl would be handed to me.

A true seeker cannot not accept any teachings, not if he sincerely wishes to find something. I hid in the grapevines, digging it all. I felt like a million dollars; I was adventuring in the crazy American night. The potential Buddha already exists in the sinner; his future is already there.

Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish. We fumed and screamed in our mountain nook, mad drunken Americans in the mighty land. We were on the roof of America and all we could do was yell, I guess — across the night, eastward over the Plains.

During deep meditation it is possible to dispel time, to see simultaneously all the past, present, and future, and then everything is good, everything is perfect, everything is Brahman. We turned at a dozen paces, for love is a duel, and looked at each other for the last time.

Here is a doctrine at which you will laugh. It seems to me that Love is the most important thing in the world. We were already almost out of America and yet definitely in it and in the middle of where it’s maddest. I think it is only important to love the world, to explain and despise it. But we should regard the world and ourselves and all beings with love, admiration and respect. Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together; sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. Not courting talk — real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment is precious.

I had to strive for property and experience nausea and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to learn to love the world, and no longer compare it with some kind of desired imaginary world, some imaginary vision of perfection, but to leave it as it is, to love it and be glad to belong to it. Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?




words by Hesse & Kerouac
arranged by Cramulus & Zarathud




“Who is the Master that makes the grass green and the poop funny?”



Quote
by Enki

In Defense of Trolling

Trolling is a public service.

Of course, it doesn’t calm flamewars. However, by causing flamewars, it forces those engaged in them to take on a level of self-reflection they would otherwise not consider. A good troll will not only cause all the irrational emotional reactions, but (as an often unintended but nevertheless socially invaluable side effect) pit those being trolled against each other in a context in which they are exposed to how ridiculous their own beliefs really are.

A flamewar, because it is an ostensibly rational discussion driven entirely by pathos, is a very clear and obvious trace of the irrational or pathological basis at the root of many ostensibly rational beliefs; once someone realizes that some deeply-held conviction is deeply-held because of a single anecdote or some personal psychological need, if they are mature they cease to be emotionally engaged by a simple challenge or a calm discussion of the topic.

There are plenty of accidental trolls, of course. Any culture clash is indistinguishable from intentional trolling, because alternate reality tunnels are alien in unexpected and unconsidered ways. If we were born where they were born and raised as they were raised, we would believe what they believe; until we are challenged with an incomprehensible set of beliefs, we cannot approach our own set of beliefs in a balanced way and consider whether or not they are sensible.

Because alien cultures are getting less and less alien and more and more familiar, the impetus for introspection has become the occupation of two main groups: science fiction authors and internet trolls, both of whom synthesize new and alien worldviews by inverting some detail of an existing worldview and taking it to an extreme.








“An event is worth a thousand meanings.”




Quote



- The city of fog -

White Plains, New York

or Dream White Plains, New York?

All cities are recursive

within the dream

   there is an entire copy of the city, down to the smallest detail

(zoom in further)

    including a person who dreams another iteration of the dream city

(now zoom way out)

the real city is an iteration of


14
Intermittens written submissions / Re: Fractal Cult
« on: May 16, 2013, 03:52:31 PM »
Quote from: cramulus


“Pissing on your idea” is the Seth Godin term for when somebody wants to modify your idea before they’ll support it. “That’s a good idea, you just need to change it like this”…

It’s like a dog marking territory.

By changing it, they are investing their ego into the idea. Their hope is that by aligning the idea with their own goals, it becomes more attractive, more worthy of their support.

Seth says: don’t sweat it… If you care about your idea, and you want it to grow, LET people piss on it (if that’s what it takes to get their support). That is how small ideas grow into big ideas, they become everybody’s territory.

Robert Anton Wilson also thinks about ideas in terms of territory, but he doesn’t romanticize the collaborative process. He agrees that ideas are the current incarnation of territory. All our primate territory-guarding behaviors, hard wired into our nervous system, have been adapted to do battle in a theater of ideas. Many of our conversations are the exact same behavior you see in a junkyard dog barking at strangers who smell like Other territory. Not very romantic, no?

Either way, they agree on this:

Ideas are excrement



Quote
Chao Bellied Sneetches
by Cramulus

Hi guys! Just wanted to give you a quick update about how things are going at the fractal cult. It’s been … interesting. About two weeks ago, everybody divided up into camps and moved into the north and south wings of the monastery. It was pretty tense for a while.

Basically, despite this cult being specifically non-religious, everybody here is a Discordian Pope. So nobody is under each other’s authority, and that creates this oppressive sense of responsibility. Everybody owns the cult. And since they don’t want to be associated with anything shitty, they get kind of defensive about it. Crazy defensive. 

There are a lot of creative types here, and apparently that means they have to be expressing themselves all the goddamn time or they’ll wilt or something maudlin like that. So after an hour of argument we finally concluded (notice I didn’t say “agreed”) that we should put on a play. Then, after another hour of argument, we agreed (but I wouldn’t call it a conclusion) that we should do The Sneetches by Dr. Seuss.

Everybody was happy. It was a wonderful moment. It was quiet and everybody was smiling. I enjoyed it while it lasted.

Suddenly, the serenity and harmony was decimated by the sound “admission fee?” passing between somebody’s lips. The entire building immediately exploded with flaming shit. There was a huge argument about money and labor and half the cast made a big scene and quit. Then they came back so they could shout more. Eventually this one guy said he’d put in all the money and take responsibility for the play, and I guess that solved things, because now he was the Director and everybody calmed down. But only a little.

The Director was excited! He said he wanted to do the costumes this certain way, (Spandex) and a bunch of people flipped the fuck out said they didn’t want to be in the play if it had spandex because it will make us look awful and the audience will judge us. The Sneetches had to wear big foam bodysuits which concealed the actor’s identity or they’d drop out.

The Director got really frustrated because he had basically paid for the thing, and he had always wanted to do a spandex play. Even if some of the cast would look pretty bad in spandex, he thought it would be honest. Somebody said, “I can’t believe we’re going to tarnish this Seuss’ work of art with this amateur regional theater bullshit.” That was followed by a wave of groaning and eye rolling. And that’s when people started picking sides and moving their stuff into bedrooms on the other side of the Monastery and muttering under their breath all day.

On day two, somebody got peed on.

On day three, somebody was thrown from the balcony and he got a concussion.

Then they peed on him.

On day four, there were peace talks. Except that’s a rather generous usage of the word. More accurately, you could call them I have to get this shit off my chest talks. There were tears. Oh there were tears.

At about 11 PM on day four, we reached an agreement to cancel the play and never talk about plays again. Ever.

If this rule was broken, we would all share the punishment: having to go through this entire debacle again.

Somebody took it one step further and said “Okay here’s an idea. No more group projects. Everybody do your own individual thing, team up with others if you want, but trying to please everybody here is a huge waste of time.” Everybody started nodding, that sounds like a good idea, then one guy said “Fuck that, you’re not the boss of me,” and then the shouting started, and totally out of the blue, a stream of hot pee blasted across my cheek, and that’s why I’ve been holed up in the bathroom with my laptop since yesterday.

I’m starting to hear weird noises outside the door.

No.. Instruments? No no… LOTS of instruments?? This is fucked up. After all that drama about drama, please tell me we’re not starting a big full-cult band.

Please tell me that?

Because seriously—-

—-I have no idea where I left my harmonica.




Quote


“How things work”, a work in progress

     A long time ago,

     there was an argument about how things should be

     a romance of contemporary pressures

     Today,

     the battle is over, the lovers are dead

     and their ghosts will haunt us

     Forever



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Path_dependence


Quote



Cthonic Chronos
by Enki

The Greeks had a very Lovecraftian view of time, as personified by Chronos. A monstrous inevitability, time has not only eaten the past, but will eat the future, and everything it ate was in some sense its descendant. Hungry and ineffable, this personification of entropy is much more frightening than Maxwell’s Demon (who personified negentropy).

Remember: one day, unexpectedly, time will eat you. It cannot be predicted or avoided, so try to live your life so that when the final boss of the universe defeats you, your last thoughts are “fuck yeah, that was worthwhile”.




Quote
The koan of the derivative work

Wen the Monk entered the cell of his friend, Tu-Tzi Fru-Tzi to find the floor uncharacteristically full of crumpled papers.

“Tu-Tzi, what are you doing?” Wen asked. “Some kind of origami floor?”

Tu-Tzi looked upon his hands in despair. “I’m trying to write something, but everything I do is derivative” he cried.

“You’re trying to avoid derivative work?” Wen asked. “How original!”

After a few hours of watching cat videos, Tu-Tzi was enlightened.


Quote
A Meditation on Slacktivism

Bung Fu entered the mojo dojo, where Nopants was practicing his google-katas.

“Brother Nopants,” said Bung Fu, “Social Media is tiresome. Everybody’s standing on soapboxbook, tweeting about causes, everybody’s signing petitions, everybody’s reaching towards unity … while sitting still. Some people call it ‘slacktivism’ - a way of making yourself feel like you’re helping without actually doing anything. Is it wasted energy?”

Nopants cleared his cache and said, “You are correct in this, Bung Fu - the individual has little power over the group. To change a group, you must act on a group scale.”

Bung Fu smiled, “So posting about politics and social justice is just an ego game, it makes the individual feel good but doesn’t help the group?”

Brother Nopants shook his head and spoke slowly, “The group and the individual are the same. The group reaches for unity through its members. The individual posts are powerless, but as a group…”

Bung Fu sat in silence for some time.



“Is the individual really so powerless?” asked Bung Fu.

Nopants shook his head again, “Some are, because many groups are not positioned to affect each other. But as I said, the individual and the group are the same. Even your individual question carries a group’s energy.”

“Which group?” asked Bung Fu.

“As an individual” replied the monk, “you have the power to choose.”


15
Intermittens written submissions / Re: Fractal Cult
« on: May 16, 2013, 03:44:24 PM »
Quote
Advice for young artists behind the wall
by Enki

S̤̫͕̘̞͖͚̺a̦̝y̱̺͚̦̠ͅi͈͈̪ͅn̘͕̫̘̟gͅ ̪͙̖̪̖̘ṱ̟̲h̯͚͇͎̬̬̗̻͕ḁ͇͈͇̝̥̠͇t͙ ̞̠w̮̻͔e͇̯̝̼̬̥̠̟ ͈̬̦̗̯ͅh̥͖͇̘̪̖̝͕a̩͇͙͍̜v̻̥̲̥e̝͕̹̥ ̬̙̳̼ͅe͇n̬̝̟͍̯o̪͕̹̮̥̼̲̻̘u̥g͉̣h̬̹ ̱͎͔̜a͔̹̤̫̳̦͉r̜̞͚͕̣͕t̗͍̮̗̱i͉̬̰̭͖͓͚s̖͉̞̫̦t̤̯̹̪̳s̩̱̹̪̹ ͇̙̮̲̳̣̪i̪̫̩s̠̙̝̥͖ ͍̮̭͎l̘̝̩͓̦̖ḭk̝͓̣͍̯̗̱͉e̩͍̲̩̥ ͕͔s̭̭̳̣̙̩ạ̪ͅy͙̜i̗͎͙̻̟̣͙n̙̟̫̬̤̟̺͎̻g̗ͅ ͖̳̲̠̲̬̖̟w̺̬̯̠̞͕ͅe͎̖̮̝̗ ̖̜̬̙̦h̲̻̝̯̱̘̗̤ͅa͎͖͚͍v̟͇̬e̩̙̬̹͓̞̭ ̩̜̖̫̗̟̘e̼͈̗͕̙͖̣͚n̫o̰̻̠̼͈͉͕u̠̖̻̙͓ͅg͕͇̖͕͚̮h̝̭̭͙ ͔̞͍̦̬͖ͅ
͔̠̯̗̼̙Y̮͎o̙u͉n͇̦̫g̖͔͎̺͕̰̱̼ ͓͎̜͇P̺͔͖̺̫̬̪̩̫i͕o̱͙̳̲̥̤n͕̟̯̱̦̫͈̭̲e̝̺̳̦̘̝̠e̘͖̥̙̝̥r͎̖ ͎̣̣͎̙̖̩̻̯g̘͉u̬̭a̗̙̥̯̜r͈̣͉̖̣̹̤ͅd͈s͖̯̪̘͚̬͕̠ ̱͔̬̯͉o̜̗͈̫̼̣̦f̣̫͖̖ ̩͈̖͈͕h̗̪̯͕̳̥o͎̫͇͓̭͍̖n̬͈̳o͖̰͚r̝̫͎͕̩ ̤͎͎̘͉̖̮a̬̥͍t̟̻̫̬ ͓̩̳̼̻ͅa̩ ̼̟͔͕͉̣͚ͅm̱̹̤͍̞͉̭u̼s̰̝̜͓͉e̻̭̖͈͉̮u̯͎̟̬m̲̲ ̝̦̗̳̦̪p͍͈a̬̱̟͇v̟̩̺̩̯͔̱͈i̫̼̰̤l̳̥͕̜̦̝i̠̫o͙͉̩̹̠̹n̦͈̤̣̤̦̻͙ ̱̙̞͙͉o͚̦̠͖̩̙͔̩f̞̙̬ ͍͎̤t̰̱̹h̺̟͎͍̗͎e̝̳͕͎̜̥ ̼ͅt͕̥r̠̠̠͎͈a̠̙̝̯͇i̺̦̻̫̻͇ͅn̲͓̤̱̳̮̗ ̦͓̭͚͇͔̳t̞̦̫͈̝͚h͉̠̲̖̠̺a̩̩̦͉t̻̮ ͙̹͖̪͇̬̼̥b̤̹͖̭̲̮̞͎ͅr̝͇o̭̱̗̹̹̫̝̼u̩͎̹͈͖͉g̻̥͕̗̞̣̹̦ͅh̙͔̮͉̞̳̦̗̬t̙̣̙͙͍͓̦ͅ ̘L̪̗̥͓̰̫̦̦e̼̱̰ͅn̗͎̻̫͖̺͍i͉͕̟̹̱̗̲̻͙n̤͙͈̳̜̥̫̲’͔̝̻̼ͅs͓̥̭͚̬̰ͅ ̟̩͕̣͕r̖̙e̪͔̥m͎̙ạ̩̞͇̥̲̝i̖͎n̲̻̻̻̗̞̝̮͍s̯̼͍̹ ͇̺͓͍͔̯t̲͕̯̠̰̳̪̜o͓̻͚͚̺͕ ͓̲M̼͙̥̣o̲̱̪͕̝̳̲s̝̪͚̲̤c͉̘̘̣͓o͎̜͙͍̳̮w̰̻̘̺͔̩ ͎̺̟̖̩̦̬i̥̩n̙̪̗̦̣ ͇̯̰̻͔̳̗͉͍1̤̰̜̜̲̖9̠2̱̱ͅ4͈.̠̱̠͈̗̜ ̦̩͇̰͇H͎̝̦̲e͎̹̠̘͓̠̦͉͖ ̼͕̙̬̞̟̞ͅw͔̱̰͉̯e̠̬n̩̲̙͇̜ṱ͇̙͎̙ͅ ̣̲͔̼̫̩u̳̮̮͚̬͍̝̗p̣̬͕͇̞̟ ͖f̳͔͖͚̠̫̜r͚͈̘͖͖̼o̳̠̤͇͙̺̝m͇̙̟̳̝̜̟ ̬̣̘̱̤t̩̫h̹̞̝̥e̠r̯̥̺̜͓̰ͅe͚̭͓͍͚ ̗͓͉̜̞̙t̤͇̻̤ͅo̞ ̥͚̩̰͖̝̟Ḇ͇̭͎̙͓e̙̭̳̬̰̠t͕̻h̩͙͖͕̣̞̮e̪l̳̞,̲̬̗ ̪a̹̦n̥͉̭̳̯͕̻͖d͎͖̼ ̹̟̤̳̦̤w̳̗̲̲͚h̥͖̤̱̻i̩͓̪̭̮͕l͚͕͔e̠̪͚̲ ͍̻̗ḫ̳̠͍̹̭̜e̙̰̗̹̖ ̭̞͇̠̥͕̮w̦̭̗̭̣͖a̜͚̮͇̲̙s̳͓̬̖ ͉͖̤̱̰g͕̠o̫i͕̗͓͇̖n̻g̣̞͎̺̞̪ ̰̟̫̳̩͓̦̩͚u̮̯̤̠̮͉̭͔p͎͈̣̰̺ ̘̫ọ̦̦͖̪͎̘̟n̥̗̲̼̱ ̜̰̹t͈̹ͅh̠͉̥̱̦̘̘ͅe̩̞ ̱̰w̳̖̜͔a̩̬̗y̘͖̖̤̠̭,̲̺̯͔̳ ̩͉̹̝͎͚̝s̫̳͙̥̤͖̲o̝̖̤͈m̲̩̥̬e͙̖ ̫̟̞͚̠̪͎s̗͕͇̗̰m̠a̻͔l̥͖͎̱̞l̩ ̭͔̤b̟̱o̺̻̭̭͚̫̪y̼̝̩͔̭̣̞̞s̭̟̯ ͖͇͖͍͎̯c̪̘̞͚̠͇͍͕a̙̱͓̙̲̟̤m̝͕̥e͚ ̰̖o̹u̗̟̫͍̮̳t̩̣̹̼ ̰̥̗̘̜o̠̲͍̺̰̞̮f̲͎̤̣͚̩̞̥ ̳̟̪̫̳͖t̖̠̩ͅh̜̬ẹ̯̯̬̰̗̥̘͉ ̹̦c͎͉̞i͇̝̼̩t̙͙̳̙̯̰̖y̥̗̞̖͔̻̻̭ ̗̼a͙̘̪͎͇͚̗̜n̰͎͚͚̜̻ͅd͔̤͕̭͚̪͔̩ ̞͔j̗͉̤͓͇̻̰̲͇e̤͉͇̬e̟̼͓r̠̝͉̫̺e͓̞̭̭̞̺d͙̙̤̣̺̤͎ͅ ̠̤͍̹̤̳̱͕̱ạ̭͈̻̲̻̬ṭ͍͕̯ ͇̺̖͔̲͓̺h̫̙͕̮͔i̩ͅm͇͎͔͇̰͙̙̭̟,̜̤ ̦̳̘̟͇̜s͎̟̥̯͓̹a̗̼̪̜̯̪̭͚y̭͚i̼͈̯͓̺͇̣̻ͅn̹ͅg͔͕͖̥,̼̲̬̩ ̼̰̻̻̥“̲̰͖̤̳̮̺G̙̣͓̪̼̻ͅo͔̦̝ ̘̜͙u̘̙̺̰̳p̭,̹̠ ̩͓̺y͉̻͙̱o͕͖̥̞̥̻̩͖u̥̦ ͍͎̼͍̭͔b͔̖̗̣͙͎̭̠͚a̖̣̭̩̥͍l̪̣͖̗d͙̩͕̳h̩͔̥̦̟̙e̗͖͚̺̗a̖̤̙̰d͖̙͖̞͈̥̩̪!̙̲͓͇̰̹͕̲ͅ ̜͖̳G̩̗̙̯̘̠o̟̙̗͙̦ ̥̭̯͙͈̙̝ͅu͕̟̗̱̱̟̭͔p͉̱,̥͕̯̟̯ ̱͚̺̳̠͍y͔͙̺̮̤o̜̩u̘̘͚̠ ̙̠̲b͓͉̞a̠̺̠͚̹͉l̝̥̺̟̦̠͔d̞̝̠͕̦h͓̝̞̤͉͓̦ḙ̻a̺̯̩d̯͔͕̮̳̞͓͚!̜͉̖̩̹”͙̯͕͎̹̤̞͖ ͔2̩͙̞̘̩̟̺ͅ4͖̼̙̖͉͕ ͇͈̻A͓̻̥͕̫̰͎̲̬n̪̜d̘ ̦͎ẖ̗͉̠̟̞̲̞̤e̳͉̪̘̟̰͈̺ ̝͙͍̫̩t͙͔̩͇̦u̪̺͔̲̭̫̳r̮̝̤̜̮n̜̟̭̟̹͚̹̤e̩̲͎̮̝ḏ̳̥̥̝ ͓͓̮͔͉͔a̖̼̺̣͇͚͚r̬̟͓͈o͚̘̙u͕̙̥̻n̙̙̰̙d̲̘͇̞͓̤̬̝,̰̘̻̲͖̲ ̜̣̺͓͎̗̰̼a͎̭͓̬n̲͕̗̪̖d̥͔͔͙̰̙̰̯͕ ̙̘̲͔̙̬͔͖w̗͇h̹̣̬̱͔̫̦ͅe͎̗͇̞̘͎̙n̪̺ ̯̺̰̹͉h̯̹͙̯͇̯͚ͅe̼͓̲ ̩͖̖͓̼̮s̘̤̞̣a̪̫̲͔͉̥w̭̭̹̼ ̗͚̯̜̬̻̠t̗̤͓̱͔̟̳h̙͙͈͓e̗͚̙̮̣m͕͙,̲̺͉͔͎̲̟ ̪̤h̹̹͉̠͚̫̞ẹ͉͔̦̰̱̜ͅ ̟̭͉̗͓͎c̲̤͚̮̦u̖r̠̥͕̙͉̥͍̞s͉͈̣̘̘͇e͓͓̣ͅd̮̺͍̞ ͇͍̱̤̹̮̪̫t̤̣͇͉̦̜̼h͈͔̣̼̞ͅe̘͈͈̝͈̟̮̣m̼̙ ̜͉̤̠̼̣̜͉i̝̝n̮̪̟͈̣ͅ ̮̲̺̱̰̞̭ͅt̪̦͎̞̬̗̰͍ͅh͇̯͕͍e̳͙ ͎̬̣͈n͕͉̠͈͈a͖͍̯̭͔̗m̺͈̝͉e̲̞̪̝̗̜ ͎̙̞̮̞͕̳̩o̙̪͈͈̼f̻̹͎̭̰̭̦ ̦t͔̩͖h̤̬̩e̫͔͕͇ ͕̗̠L̦̠̰̹̻̝̮͎͇o̭̲̘͕̜̻̪r̟͇̜̝̻̼d̰͕̲̘͍̠̣.̪̳ ̤͕͕̮͚̹̞͖͙A̯̭͔̺̻̬̲ͅṉ͔̣̯̹̦ͅͅd̮̥̮̞̲͓ ̲̠̻̟̻̯t̹̣̰̤̝̣̝w̟ͅo̺ ͈̦̺͔̫̯̱̠ș̲̪̞̯͚̟̠h͙͈̙̤ḛ̻̗̻̙̞-̻̬̗͉b̻e͈̰͍a̭̠̳̞̰͕r͚̤͙s̖̤̯͇̪̫̙͍̟ ̤̘̻̭̝c̝̣͕͚̜͇a̼͖m̯̭̞͓̪̟̱̖e̹͙̖̣̜̭̗͎ ͖̲̺ọ͚͚͙̗͓̗̤u̙͔͉̝̜̺͕̟t̹̘͕͍ ̩̣̝̥̗̥o̹͖̭̥̹̖f͙͇̼̻͉̭ ̠̺̻̭͙͖̼t͍̱͉̻͚̻͎ͅͅh͇̰ͅe̝̖̤̪̗̼̪͍͈ ͕̗͖͖̩w̫̻̰̝͈̙̮̫̤o̲̣̲̗o̬̞̤̹͎̝d̤̬͓s͍̥̺̖̰ ̗̝̱̖̻̱̫̦͎a͇̹̳̰n̝̝d͕͉̠̥ ͎t̲̬̬͕̻͍̱o̦̜̹͙͔̪r̫̝̭e̗͔̼̰̻ͅ ̞͔f̹̦̥o̤͕̪̩̦͔̟r͎̳̜̬ͅt̗̣͓͓̥̹y̠̹̹̖-̟͙͖̝̹̥͙͖̩t̬̣͍͇̬͙̯̞w̼̣͉̰̱͍o͎̯̪͚̬̳͙͎̺ ̲̥o̦̮̯̹̱̗̘̜f̺͔͍̬̘̹̘̯̯ ̹̠͇̼̠͙͈̞t̜̯̺̳̣̺h̘̩͔̭̞̘͍e̙ ͖͖̪̝̟b̤̝͍̼o̝͈͍̱̹̻̻̰y̙̜̩̱s͔̘̺͔͈̦̺̘.̫̼̘̞̳ ̼͎2̬͔5̪̤̰̙̮ ̼̝̪̻̩̺F̱͉̺̮̬͎̹͍ͅr̗̟͓̜̺̞͍ͅọ̻̩͙̤̭̫̠m̤͖͖͓̦ ͎̻͔t̳̟h͖͇͔̹̮̲̩̳ͅe͉̯͚͇̦͕̥͈r͙̦͔͎̗e͉̪̲ ̮͙̳̗̭̼̟h̗̣̰͓̟̯e̬̼ ̪̯͈̝͇̬w̗̰͔̤̘͙̖e̺͇̞n͓̪̭̝̳̞ͅt̰̟ ̞̫͇̲͓̩o͉̪ͅnͅ ̰̯̲̗̭̖̭̤t͍̲͎͓̼͚̣o̯͉̤̜̝̭ ̟̮M̗̜̖̫ͅo͎̹͕̭̥u͎̞̭͓̩̘n͕̟͍t͔͚̼̙̘͔̞ ͎̳̦̤̗C̟̗a̱̗̰͕r̘̠m̫̜̩e͓͔͓͔̣ͅl̩̩̭̬̗͚̳,͙͍̗̝͔̗͓̖ ͉̰͎͈̻̪̰̤̜a̪̮͓̳̰n̙̜̣̘̳͎̲̺d̼͖̰̲͎͔̩̖ ̠f̼͕̥̞r͎̗̬͓͇̜̮o̯̮m̙ ̰̬̲͖̤t̟͉͎̜h͚̠͈e̠̙̺͓͈̲r͈̼̩͖̗͔̝e̤ ̱̙̠̲h͖͔͇̥̟ͅe͈͙ ̺̻̥̮͎r̝̦ḛ̯̟t̰̞̼̯̮͈͓ṵ̹͍r͔̠̰ͅn̯͎̼̬͙e̠͖d͍̳͚͈̘ ͍̟̙̣͉̥͙̱͓t̙̼͍̘̮̜̦͇̜o͓͉̻̞̗̻͓̣ ̠̰̬̝S̱a͖̼̰̪̟͙ṃ̰̘̠̖͔a̗͚͖͇̻͎̫r̞͙̱̳i͕̲̖̺̻̻ͅa͇̤̰̭̹.̗̖̣̻ ̜̥̘̪̱̮͇̜͔T͎ẖ͙e͚̰̖͎̦͉̦̼n̙̺̫ ̹͍̤s͔̲̟̠h̜̠̤̳̘̞͙e̱̦̳̠͖͚͖̪ͅ ̼̯̟͍̟̥̪a͙͙̭s̪̤̗̲̲͉k̙̼̘͚̬͍͉̼s̯̪̳͇̺ ̯̻̤͙̮o͓͙͕͉͓̖͚f̹̗̬̳̫ ͇̬͎̗̗̮̺̥̟i͖̞̮̦̯̦̹̻t͉͖’͈̺͚͖͕͈̟s͔̭͍͇ ̠̦̣͔̤̮ͅa̪̥̥̥̣̟ ̲̝̯“̘̩͉r̩̣̣̩e̜͓̮̰̺̪̪̞a̜̙̜l̼̰̬̫̬ ̼͖p̳̙̣̥r̗̭̘̤͈̤͓͈̬e͇̤̖̙̤̥̯s̜͈̭͔̲̖̺͈e͍ͅn̼͖t͈͚̱ ̠̗̙̝͍̲̙̣͚o̳̟̰̲̭̺͓ṟ̺̠̩͉͚̻̜ͅ ̥̹a͙ ͍͔̗͎̳͇͇̲ͅd͕̺̖̩̦̥ͅr̦̫̗a̖̪̞̲͖̮̩̳w̯͖͇͉̬̥i̠̲̣̺̱͚̙ṇ̮̙͚̱g̰͇̬̘͔̱?̥͚̺̖̼͔ͅ”̫̩͓̘̦͕ ̫ͅS͍͈͉̻̤̬o͙͓̲͎̪ ̻̰̜̳̪̳̯͕I͕̳̞̖͔ͅ ̦̥̯̺g̺̙̺͓͇o̦͔͉͇̹̲,͕̙̥̰̠̻̪̤ ̤̦̞̹ͅ“̝̦̠̥̥w̠͉͕̣̜ͅe̘̖͇̺̻͚̻ͅl̝̤l͙͍ ͔͇I̯̫̳’̯̞̙͚̻m̞̪̼̣̲̖̙̬ ̜̣̪̰r̭̻͍e̱̞̣̤̣g̜̘̯̼̠̹̪̭r̰̠̖͔̹e̤̞̺̠t̗͓̲̰͈̱t̪̯̳̤i͎̘͉̠͈̞̬̟̪n̝͓͙̘g͍̯̪̗̟̪ ͔̗͙̭͕t̮̼h̜̲̲i̘s͈̤̞͙̣͉̙̞͓ ̲͖̖̬̼d̖̫̱͍͇ͅe̟̝͚̩̖̰c͈̜̭ͅi̱͔s͍̼͕̙i͓̙͍̮͓͉͇̠o̙̱̩̬̗̬n͈̝̳̜͕̼.̩̙ͅ”͍̳̩̞̬͎ͅ ̫͔̬͎͈̱̫A̱͓͉͕̼͕n̯͙͉̦̭ͅͅd̠̤͔͎̰͚̱̻ ̭͉s̳̰̦̱͉̭ḥ̝͓͇̯̘͇̜e̙̞̞̝̼̟̫ ͕̩t͕̜r̺̦̞̰̟̝̗i͖̖̮̖̳ͅe̞̳͍̠̟̲s̹͔̥͉̜͈̫̥ ̳̮͈̲̼̣̙t͓̤̙̳̻̼͎o͈̹͚̮̯̹̰͖ ̝͔̣͙̞̱͍j̥̖̻̝̬͍̥u͉̝͔͈s̼̘̬̱t̤̯i̹̯͔̫̜̖̠̰f̫͔̱̺̫͖̗̜̲y̙͍̜̹ ̜͖h͔̼̯̘e͇̞̬͉͈͎͕ͅr͔̮s͕̯̗e̟̞̥̦l̥̫f̫͔ ̻͍̬̩͓̯b̟y͕̞̜͎͕ ̹s̳̯͉a̯̬̻̟ỵ̜̮i̼͉͙̣n͚̬̞̘͉̹̜g̝͙ ̭̙̺̮͙̪̪t͎̱̙̫͍̲ḫ̝̳̮͖̩̻͇̻a̫͇̭͍̜͙ͅt̻̹̯ ̥̩I̱̠ ̟̘̻̘͕̭̝̝a͕̝̼͉̗l̻̮̖̹̻ẉ̥̱̜a͇y̘̖͕͎̺͍s̟ ̳g͎̼̝̳̬͙̼i̹̼͉̗v̝̥͙̥e̩̘͚̬ ̩̯̥̮m͈̪̤̺̙͖̟͖ỵ͍̤ͅ ̬m̝̥̻̰̭̝o̪̗͕̘̪m̟̪̱ ̙̥͓̪̮̹̤a̩r̺̲͓̳͓͕t͙̻̮͉ ̩̥̲͇̲̲f̬̹̠͕̣̼͇̗o̲̲̠̜̘̖r͉ ̹̟̮̹͔p̖̣̙̰͍̞̟ͅr̫͉̫̤̰̱͙̹e͙͚s̻͙̰̪̲e͓̰̜͚̥͈̩n̳̩̳̩̮̣̯ͅt̪͚̙̣̘s͔͙…̳̗̦͚̲̦ ̙̺̩͔̭a̳̭̠̠̠̝n̫̠͚̬d͚͈̞̝ ͈̯͍̬͖̻̯i͉̘͉͙ṱ̻ ̼̱͇̫̮j̫̳̝̲͎u͍̻̼s͕͈͙̮͉̗̦̠t̯̗̟̯ ̠͖̩̯͕̻͉̯͖g̪ͅo̞̮͓̤̹t͉͕̺̟̥͔͚͇ ̗͖w̰o̼̫̣̦͇r͙̪͎̪̺̹̜s̩̺̹̝̠̰̬̤e͖͔̱ ̗̠̙̤͈a͈̰̖̱͇̦n̯̟̩d̥̰̘̦̮͈ͅͅ ̱̙͇̣I̙̪̺̰’͇̟v̯̫̗̝̯͇e̫͔͉̝̹̝̜͎ͅ ̟̦̙̜̜f̬̤e̖̦̥̘ḻ̻̪̪̝ͅt̜̩͔̮̯̩̪ ̪̬̺͚̬̼̤l̤̥̱͓̱i̘̤̳̯̘̮̩̩k̰͉̙̖̭e̩̞͎ ̯̻̣͙̠ṣ̥̘̺̩͍̗h͎̲̯̦̙̰̝̞i͕͔t̮͕̗̬̝͓̳̥ ͙̝s̖̳̙̰̫̼c̪̬i̹͍̙̱ͅe̝̥͉̭̟̯͉̤n̙͍̹̹̻ͅt̼̗̭͈̩͉i̩͙͓̮s̹̬͚͓t̫̱͈̭̘̮s̬̤̞͙̟̣,̞̳͇̖̩̤̯̮̜ ̘̞̰̭w̫̞͓e̳̥̮̞̦ ͉̖̜͕̠h̗̞͚̯̪̮̻a̼̤͓̝̝v͔͉̣̝̤̺͖̮e̹̹̺ ͚̘̥̰͍̼e̘̯n̠͓̺̺o̦͖͔u̝̱͈̠͍͚͚ͅg͉͔̳h͎͖̘̠̭̮̹̻ ̜͕d͖̹̤̗̖͔͈̠̼e͉̫̠͈̳̜s̰͓͈͇i̼͔g̫͚͓̬̣͚̖n̝̙͖̠̻̖̠̩e̖̟̜r̘̻̬̻̘̣̙s͉͉̥̱͈̲,̙͖̩͔̺ ̲w̘̰͔̗e̦̺͖ ͔͉̻̱͎̗̭h͇̩a̦̙̟̰̱ͅv̦͍̳̲̠͓̠ẹ͍͎͙ ̤̱̤̖e̦̠̩̩͍̤n̩̲̙͇͚̥̠o̰̪̦̟̣̰͓͙u̜͕͔̗͉̟̟̦g̞̫̗̳̖̝̫͉͔h̤͓ ̹͙p̫͚̹̮̝̰̟̟ͅo̳͍̤̘l̙͇̺͉͍̰̰͚̖i̠t͕͈̳̘̲̭͚i̹̰c̝̪̞̦̼̱i̱̪̝̙̠a̼̞̯n̗͓s̮͕ ̗̳̫̼̪͙ͅ—͖͔͔͇̮ ̭̪͙̘̣w͉̼̝͖͎e͚̣̖͙ ̼h̤̺̲̙̪̯̬̫a̠̩͕͇v̱̰͕e̮͇̹̖͉̙ ̠̤e̗n͙͈o̰̘u̟͇͍͕͕̺̰g̱͍h͈ ̞͖p̥o͖̦̼̪l̖̮̺̗͉i͓͈͓̟̦̝͙͇͔t͖̟̜̰͇ͅi͎͓̯c̻̥̩̦i̼a̙̞̩̲̜̰̬͕ͅn͓͕̰̖̖̘s̰̞̗̪̳̯ ̬̥͓̪͚—̳̬͙̠ ̠̠̬͚̩̦͖͓b̪͉̤ụ̞̯̻̘̰t̟̘̰,̙͓̻ ̰̙͖̮̺̠̘̝y̪̳̯o͔̗͔̤̬u͕̪̜̥ ̥̬̳k͈̬̻̗̫̺̦n̪o̖̗̩̞w͍̲̝̯̠̭̬,̭̩̗̦̣̲ ͔͇̞̪̼n̥̺o͓̩͉̮͙͕b̯̞̳͙͎̜ͅo̤d̼̥̙̯̟̺̭ͅy͇̹̲̖̤ ̺̝g̗e̠̲̫̞͖̪̳̮t̲̩̭͈ͅs͇͕̼̹͓ ͖̻̗͇̝͎͈̮tͅo̟̱̖̗ ̬͖̰͍̯̻̥̱b̹͓͖̝͎e͎̻͓̬ ̙͙͖̰̗͉͎̜y̫̣͓̩̰̭̟̩ͅo̻͙͇̖ṵ̼̹̭̮̼̤ ̬͚̹͇͓̻̙͎e̻̣͓͉͎ͅͅx̖̘͔c̣͚̺͓̗̪̜e͍̗͚̲̝͚̯̪p̠̜̙̦͓t̫̮̭͕̹̦̰̩ ̰̠̤͕̺͙̤y̤̫̮͔͚̙͔̘o̭̥̮̙̩u͙͍͙̤̜͔͇ͅ.̞̺͓̼̦͖ ̤͕N̖̠o̦͚̟̦̪͇̗b͔͉̹͍̼̜̬o͖͔̹͖̙̼̞̫͍d̲y͓̝̜̟ ͈̱̗h͍̼͓ͅa͇͍s̟͖͇̳͈ ̩̰̤̪̟̬̝̗y̠͍o̜̝̬̙͚u͇̗̟͓͔̣͍̳r̹̣͙̰̞̞̺̖ ̖̳̯̝͔̘̹p̫̼̘͈̝̲̖͎͉o̱̖̬̟͓̖̤̟ͅi͓̮ṋ̫̙̱t̞͖̺ ̤̮̼̤͙͉o̹̼̼͖̲̩̫͖f̼͖̥̗̼ ̮vͅi̪͚̙̫̮̲̺e̤͖͖̻w̱̩ ͙̠̠e͓̲͕͔̬x͎̬̟̲̩̖̮̤c͔̤̪͓̬͇e͉͇͚͙p̟̰̟t̗̙ ̮̪y̺o̤̳u̞̠͔̱̮ͅ.̺̗̱̥̜̫̞ ̖̪͍̞̟͖̗N̞̫͍̝̥̟o̝̝͉̠̱b̟̠̺̱͕̞o͔̟͎͙̥͖d͉̟̣̜̩͔͖͎y͎̟̼͕ ̭̫̮̰̰̠̭̝g̥͇͉̦͓e̬t̤̙̤̫̰͖̞s͈̥̠͇͙̬̮̝̭ ̝̺̗t͍͈̠̪͔o̳͖̝̝̭͔͇ ̲̠̝̩͍̻̻̣̝b͙̙̱̜̪̬̘̠̺r̳̬i̬͉n͇̠̭̦ͅg̳̭̙͈̣͔ ̫̣̼̮̱͎̘̞t͍͔̩̖̯o̺͔̫͎̠̙͉͉ ̼͖t͉͉̞h̺̠̤̣̱͓͓̥ḛ̪̱̲̟̳̭̘͍ ̘͉̲̜̼̳͖̙w̼͙o̯̦͇̪̟ͅr̫̲̼̺͚͓̹̼̹ḻ͓̘͙̺̦d̳̯̭̺̟̱̱͙ ̭̰̳̻͈̹̞͙t̯͖̺̞h̝͖̜̮̼̻̟̺e̪̮̫ ͚͎̖̯̘t̥̞̯h͔i̥͕͕̙n͙̞͉g̣̺s͉̮̣̹̪̼ ̯̱t͚̼ͅh͍͍͇͚̯̺ͅa̪̙͉̘ͅt͉̫̬̠ ̦̤y̟̪̲̩͚o̬̻̟̻̥͎̬u̝͙̝ ̻̖͕̹̱̥̩g̲̳̭͉̝̬̭e̼͓͎̥̣t̩͔̺̱̙͎͙͕̜ ͕̤͍͓̩̦̗͉t̠̘͖o̮̤̩ ̹̻̼̠͓̯̣ͅb͈̪͓̤̱͈̜͖̖r͙̟͖̯͓̺̬̠i̹̰n̠̳g͍̬͎͈̹̺̺ ̼̝̼̜̼͔̲̗t̜͈͕̙ͅo̪̯͉̼̠̣̺͔ ̠̬̗̥t̥̭̣͎̦̖h̦̖̦̫͍̻̯̝e̪͕ ̫̱w͕̥̥͎̬o̻̞̗̫͖͔ṛ͓̲l̠̦̟͇̟d̜̖̯̳͍̝ͅ ̩͕͕̳̯͎̭—̗̙̭̤̘̖͍̫ ͎̗u͍̦͎ṉ͎̠͙͙̩̰̥i̝̘̞̥̙͚͚͉ͅq̝̳̭u͈̪͎e͔̜͕̗l̼̦͎̳̯̞̻̹y͍͕̥̣͈͓ ̺̝͓̭̯͉g͖͔̳̥̣͉̬͎e͔͈ͅt̜̘͇̘ ͈̖͉̖̫͖̗t͙̖͙͇̺͎̤̱o̺̭̬͓͔̬ ̯̪̙̘̗͍̥b̖̲r͓͔͓̺̲̙͎ị̤͎̳̞͖̜n͙̬̦͎̮̣̰ͅg̲͎̩͓̲̗ ̫̲̖͍͙̤̺̥̺t̯̹o̱̬̯̝̮͇ ̠̮͔̹͚t̤͓̠̖̫̖h̝̭̰̝̠̪̼̻e̳̟̟̬̺͓̤ ̲w͖̖͎̠͖̱͓̭o̳r̙̫l̺̲̯̹̖d̩̣̳̹ͅ ͖̱ͅ—͕̺͎̺͓͕ ̤̻̱̦̖̭̙e̜̻̣͍x̼̺͕͎̭̤c͖͎͈͙͕e͚͚̜̳̞p͓̻̘ͅt̰̩̯ ͍̹ͅy̥͎͙͖͍̲͉͙͖o̻̻̻u̲̫͎̰̗.̜̻̦̳ ̪͍͕̼̮͚S̮͓͍̻ͅo̗̯͓͉̰̝̣͓,͉͉̤͚͖̫ͅͅ ͈̣̠͇ͅs͖̞͙̬̳̘͕ͅa̗̪y̙̥͕̠̩̖i̹̥̬͎̝͈̞ͅͅn̹͈̻̯g͎͚̩͎̤̳͙̺ ̞͕̫̩͚̣t̥̠̺̭͓̯ͅḥ̗̖ͅa̹̮͉ṭ͚ ͈͇̞̬̙̯̹t͉͙̣̤̱̝͔̤̩h͇̝͚̹̰̟e͖͔͉͉r͔̻e͓̱͔ ͍͚̣a̲̻͇̟̪̳̻r̳̞͕͉̖̞̤̻e̫̫̙̬ ̗̰͕͇ͅe͙̲̩̞̩̰̯n̟̗̖͉̗̞͕͔ͅo͔̟̖͈̮̥u̖̱͈g͇̳̻̩͍̲h̬ ͖̗̻͉̹w͓̖͍͔̰̫ṟ͓̫͙͉͍̦i̟͓̪͖̯̖͔t̼͈͔͕e͉͓r͕̭͇s̯͈ ̭͙͇͇̝o͚͚͍̪̼͕̖ͅu̘̟̱̣t̘̟͔̖̳̯͚ ̳̠͈͙̤t̩̞h͓̖̹̘̗̣͕ẹ͈͎̥̞̩̯̜r͙͉̗̲̺e̘͓͕̤,͈̣̱̘ ̝̼̠̲̤e͚̠n̞̫͉̫o̤̣̮̳͉̻ṷ̗̥ͅg̮̦̤̥̘̲͓͇̖h̖̱̯̟ͅ ͖̬̲̤̹̱ḏ̭͇̫̠̤͈ͅi͉̺r̠̺̻̹̼̖̳ḙ̩̤c͇̫̭t̠͍̖͈̹̫͉̺o͍̮̥̰͚̮ͅr̞̫͚̞̗͈̹s̳̣̺̼̰̘̺ͅ ̜͈̦̭̝̣͚̫̼o͈̲̳̙̟̣̰ͅu̘̳̫͙̖̖͖̘t̹͍͍ ̝͙̰͇͖͇t̻̥͕ͅh̦̲͈̪e̝̩̞r̺̳e̝̙,̟̥̞̠̫ ͕̫̼̼͖ͅḛn̦̻̘̮̰̰o͈̞͚̫̣̬̮u͓͍̻̳͖g̝̳̙͇̹̗̰h͍̗̟̮͍͓̩ ͉̖̠̬̥̫̥p̥̮̗e̺̭̞̖̻̲̱̱̜o̠͕̯̟̪̮̘̭p̪̮̳̟l̯̼̤͈̳͙e͙̯̟ ͙̟̯̻̫̮͓w̞̝i̹̺t̝̣h̖̼̤͍͖̘ͅ ̦̳̠̩͍p͚̼̰̣̺̖̹o̩̰i̺̗͚̬̣n̬͍͈̜̺͉̳͓ͅt̘͈s̼̰ ̤͔̘̝̭̗̱o̯̤͕̩̳̗͍f̻̪̭ ̣͈͕̱͔͇v͕̗̲̰̤ị̪̣̗͚̘ẹ͇w͔̹̖̯͕.̖͔̳̘̳ ̜͇͍̹̝̳̮O̟̘̼̤̫͚̘̲n̙e̜̜̗ ̠̲̦o̖̞̗͉̳͔̣f͚͚̱ ͇͉̖͎̤͍͈̥t̹̺̹̪̺h̻͉̝͍̺̻̩e̳͇ṣ̩e̟̹̩ ̟̹͙͈̺̯̗̠͍d̦̞a̩̹̖y͔̤̰̟͔̩s̜̙̮͓͚ ̬̤̩͚͍ͅͅA͉͇͔̟͍̰c̜̻̠̖͔͓e͔̖͙̗͔̪ ̯̖̤̟̟̖͇w̭͔͎͈̭͔i̩͈͈̝̞ḷ̫͙̗̞̠͙̹l̳̝̞̗͉ ̫͚̬͚̗̱͓p̼̖r̫̭i̝̜͉n̥̦̥t̝͎͉̖͔ ̫͔̹͔͈t̺̝̰͚͍͍h̟͉̯̥͇̬e̬̞̜̘͖ ͈͓H̝̰̝͍̹̻̤o̻̥̳͖l̟̺̞y̮͖͙̟̙̰ ͉͓̰B͉̦̪͖̺͕ͅi̦̣̲͎b͙͕̭̫͈̩̪l̞͈̞̜̲͖e̤̲̤̫̭͙̜̱ ̖̹͈̖͔̭̯̮a̩̗s͈͉̟̹ ̻̤̱̣͓̘͇ͅa̮̯̣͎̭͙̤ ͓̝͙͍̩͈̰D̝̦̮̬̖͎̺͉͚o̰̮̝̩̹̩̟͙u̥̳̜̘̩͍̫͇ḅ̬̞̤l̺e̗̺,̟̦̦͈̰̼̙ͅ ̩̭b̟̭̞̟̗̥̜͇a̹̠̤͈̣̺c̞̘k̭͇̼͚̤̗̩͚ ͉̯͚̣t̳̙̘͔̯͍͕͖ͅo̼̰̤̬͎̟̙̮ ̩̥b͍͙a̘̟͈c͇̮̲̠͇̻k̳͇͓͔͙̲ͅ,̺̱̗͉͍ ͓t͎̰͔h̤͚͖͚͚e̳͓̟͈̖̜͇ ̟͈͕̥O̺͔l͇̣͓̘̠̯̻̫̗d͉̰̞ ̗T̺e̯̫̺̱̙͔̳̪s͍̝͕̼͚̯t͇̬̱͔̲̼̣a̟̪̟̱̳͎m͖e͇̰͎n̝̻̣̲̥t̬̳ ̭͔̬̜͖͖̫a̘͚n̙̘̱̣d̰̱ ̱̬̬̟̻̳̹̲̦t͔̲̮̜̳ͅh͙e͖̰̲ ͇͇̠͕̫̭̣͔N̯̮e̩̥̤̜͖w͕̭̝ ̗̳̳̭̼̼̦̫T̹̬̖͉̪e̳̳̹̝̱͚̝̦s̥̭̮͍̞̜͙̖t̝̭ͅa̰̖̞͉̟̮̱̲m̗̝͉̝̹̖e̹̖̺̗͙͈̮̙n͍̬̹̣̟͇̺t̬͚͍̞̫͕͇͖ ̳͎e͖͎͍̭̲̺̭͖ͅa͕̘̫͖̪͎͖̻c̫̹̙͈̹̗h͈̹̘͎̱͎͔ͅ ̝͈̫̜c̮̠̬͉u̬̺̳͉̹̳̻ͅt̺̹̬ ̟͉̬͖̩̥ͅt̝̥͎̦̯̙̰̝̥ọ̦̥̠̹ ̠͔e̬̠̜̹̤x̝̞̟̘̖a͕̻̳̬͇̱͕c̪͕̳̰̝t͉̭̩͉͕̘͔̯l̳̼̟̟̠͖͚̰y̼̗͎ ̱3̦̩̺0͔,̪0̯̝̭̺͖͚0̟͎̜̲̘0̰̱ ̬͉̯̖ẉ̜̜̻̫͍͓̠ͅo͕͙̗͎͎̤̭r͙̯͕̺̝d̯̥͚̦̪̱s̞̺̣̟͎̺,͓̠͔̘͔̯͎̻ͅ ͖̹͔̭̙̙̻͔̖t̼̗̲̮͉̝h͉͙̯̙͚̦̘̺̻e͎͉̖ ̲̱͈̱O̩l͓͚̟͙̲͖̺̞̫d̹͓͉ ̰̩̱͉͕̼T͈̰͚̹͕̳e̟͖̬̥̗s͍̖̜̱̘̖̫̘͖t̮̘̥͍͍̯̯a̤̘m̞̣̙̜̤͖e̻̮͉ṋṱ̟͚̥̰̩̺̣ ̘̗t͎̤̳̯͙i̦͚̳̗̗͈t̹͍̫̬̟͉ḷ̝͓e̹͚̘d͉̣̙̣̣̠ ̹̦͈̜̫̞ͅM͚̝̳̮͈̲̣a̳̣̣͉͚̠̪̥s̝͕͙͎͈̦t̗̤͚͇̺̼̲e͕̩̫͖ͅr̻̗͓͉̥ ̼͓̺̯̞o̗f͍̝͓͍͍͔̭ ̘͔̩̮ͅͅC̬h͕̩̘̞͎̙̤͈a̲͎̱̥̦͔͕o̱̹̣̩̬̗̭ͅs̮̱̱̬̞ ̖͎̺̟a̟n̻̳̳̹ḍ͎̤͚͕̯ͅ ̞̗̝̯̭͔̘t͍̺̼h̠̼͖̳̻̱ẹ͖͈̰̝̖ ͙͎̝̗̥̪̯Ṇ̤̳͎͙̫̤͍e̜̳͎̫̩̰͉͇̰w̬̮ ̜͓̩̠̻̺̞̖T̘̙̫ͅͅe̯͉͖s̗̥̖ͅṱ͇a̤͎̳̠̤͎̝̤m͇̖̹e͖̥͉͍̼̮̭ṇ͖ͅt͔̖̫̰̘ ̙tͅi̭̯̟̯̳̳ͅt͎̣͖̠͓͇̞̻̯l̰̳̳̞̬̣̞e̟̬̩̤͙͚̝d͓̟ ̭͇T͔̥͖̻͔͓̦̙h̭̞̝̠͈e͇͍͇̤̺̣ ̦ͅT̮̫̫h̻̝͕͔͎i͚̙̳͎̥n̩͉g̭̩̜̘̦ ̩̼̥̙w͍̪̫͍̘̺͖i̭͎̟̲̺̰t̳͖͚h̠̖͔̝͕̻ ͓̠̼̖̙̙̘ͅT̞̰̟h̹̼̙͇̩̭r͚̹e̠̺ḛ͙̗͚͇ ̯̹̻͉͇̘̻͍S̠̳̯̬͙̰̹ͅo͍̪̻̳̰̹̠̱ͅu̩͎̫̬̦ḽ̖͈̟͈̰̯̱s̗̠̼̗̗.͓͈͔̰̹̳ ̩͉ ̪̳͉̪̱̤ͅW͈̪e̤̜̹͕ͅl̟͓̱̫͚l͈̝̪̥̱̩͈ ̻̯̖̦̳y̲͚̳e̲͍͎̮͔a̘̥̥̺̼͍ͅh̫̲̮̪,͖̦̦̰ ̬̜t̳̠͉̮̼h͍̹̤̫̭̘ͅe̫͓ͅr̘͎̠̹ḙ̻̠͇̦̪̤̰ ͍̻͈͎̪̜͓a͇̞r̩͉͉e̼̙̤͓̯ͅ,̺͚͇͓͎̥̝̟ ̹̥̮̼̙b̝̞̘̪̤̪ͅu̬̣̦̰̲̹͙t͙ͅ ̗̲̯̖̗̝n͔͕̳̳͚̭̩̦o̘͍̪n̘̮̱͍̯̮͎e̜̠͙̖͙̦͕ ͕̞͉̫̲̦͙o͍̦͖̻͎̼f̲̪̥͖̭ͅ ͈̙͔̖̤t̯̣͙͈̦̦̜̩h͓̼̦̺̫͈̣̤̜e̟̱m̤̮̹̭̲͔̺ ̦̹͓̜̣͖ḁ̝̘̪̤̟̙r̭̤e͈̱̮̯̠̤̥̟ ̯̖̮̼̬͓̺̭y̙o̦͚͉͉͈u̹͉̬̙.̲͎̤ ̳̟̬̣̲A̯̮̹͕̬n̳̥̜̤̺̥d͉̬̭̠̣̞͖ ̞̤͕̤̺̙̗ͅn̝͈o̞̣̦͙n͚̠e̠̬ ̻̝o̳̬̺f̭͇̰̗͕ ̤̘̬̠̞̦ṱḫ̼̲̬͖͇ͅͅo̱̰̙͚s̮̪̳e̩͓̜̺͖̰ ̪̥̯p͚̰͇e̙̞̣͚͇̥ͅo͕̭p̘͕̳̗̺̹͖̖͇l̜e̜̠͍̳͉ ͚̹̱̟̫̰i̪͕̜̯ṣ̟̯͓̭͇̭ ̲̩̰̼g̩͚̱̹o̮̩̙̯̲͔̞i͇̗͓̠̼ͅͅn͚̼̟͚g̰̺̬̪͖̮ ̫̼̩t̹͇͙͓͉̙̹̘ͅo͍̭̱̣̖͙ ̥̪̹m̺̼͎a͎̭̻̖̦k̪̜̫̳̙̮e̳͔͖͓̘̜̩ ͕̠̹͚͉H̝͈E̲̘̜̲̜̫ ̫̞̯̣̠̻̻C͎̼͈O̠̬̹̤̦̲̲M̞̦̣̦̝̻̜E̪̲͉S͙͙̰̜̝̦͈̣ ̳͇̟t̞̝h͔̣̣̳̣̙̝e̟͇̰ ͇̞̺̬̹̠̙a̻̹͔͎̹̠͖̫r̟͇̥̣t̻ ̮̯T̻̰͔̰̜H̘̰͇̻͈ͅE̥̳͉̺̹̫͖ ̪͎̦̩T̙̮͈̞̳H͇͚̖I͚̺̲̭̣N͉̪̹G͚͈͉̘̼ ̭͔͍͔̲̘͉W͔̖͚̗͕̯͈͚̟I͙̠͎̤̰ͅT͚͍̳H̰̣̤̟̭̖̭ ̲̲̥͈̥͕̞̤T̹H̯̯̱R̖̥̺̰͚̺͎̩͔E͕̼͚̦E͍̖̟̫̗ ͚̟E̼̙̳̲̯͖͓͔Y̩̦͈̠̣̮͍̼̘E̞͖S̙̰͙̘̖ ͈̥͇͖̯t͖̖͈̙h̪̤̹̲̭͙͔͙a̤͍͖t̜̩͙ ̖̦y̭̱̯͉̬̱͎̘̱o̝͈̖ṳ̻̰̱̯̰̘̩ ̠̰̪͉̺̗̲̲a̫̼̲͙r̳ͅe̩̦̮ ̬͍͕̱̣̼͚g̤̦̗̰̥̤̙o̰̺̯̦͔͇ͅi͇n͔͕g͕̞̳͙͇̣̥̳ ͚̖̲t͖͈̦̩̩̹̩̞o̠̳̳͎͉̺̙ ͕̝͖͙ͅm͎̺a̩͍̠̹̙̙̣̜k̟̬e͓̟̯ͅ.̜͈̱̹̺ͅ ͙̤̻̰͈N̜͍̙̗͙̤̖̦͔o̤̼n͍̭̮͕̬e͓̻͇͕͔ ̞̬̩o͙̬̰̦̯̮͕͕̼f̙̞̮͚̩ ̝͉̝͓͍̬̟͔t̥̮͖h͔̜e̯̦m͎̼̠ ̞̩͓ị̞̖̲̝̼̻͇s̲̭̳̞͚ ͖̰g̩̱͖ͅo̖i͎ͅn͍̗͙g͔͙͓͖ ͔̪̬̱̖̩̝̠t̟͉̺͍o̻ ̙͇̞͎̗̯͙̪̫c̩̼̩͍̫̼̤h̪̻͙̼͕̣ͅa̜̦̟̳̹̭̯n͖̰̙g͉̤̙̜̞̭̫̜͖e̻͎ͅ ̹̘͙̹̺̱̻̥ͅp̞̱̮e͍o̫̖͚͙̬p͖̜͎͖̠͍̟ͅl͓̭̩͙̦e̥̪̤̞̪̫̠̦ ̯̝͔͓̺̭I̭͖̥̯N̤̗̳̺̣̱̹̳T͓̝̣̰̲̜O͓̬̙ ̝͚̜̠̜͕T̖̝̮̞͈͖ͅH̭͚I͈̮͚̬̤̪N͓͙̯G̖̻S̻̜ ̺a͎̺̙͖͔̼̻n͈̣͈̗͇̳͓̬d̫̖͇͎͎̫ ͖c̼̣̞͔ͅh͚ͅḁ͓͙̣̤̜n̹g͖̥̗e̞͇͍ ̤͈͖̣̯͈t̜h͔̞̗͉̬͔e͕̱ ͈w͎͈̭̬ͅo͖͍r̠͔̥͕͍̻ͅl̙̤̗̘͇͕͕ḍͅ ̙͓̪͔i͎̲n̖̻͕͇̬̦͉͇ ̠̜͔̟̭͓͉̺ṭ̖͙̣̱h͉̫̻̱̲̲̰̫e̥̰̘ ̩͇͉̼͓E͈̤͍͉L̲̲͙D͓R̬̤I̟͖̦͖͖C͕̬̼̘H̩̳̯̩̦̘̟ ̖̘͚̰̫̩A̮͙̝̜͔̳N̟̣͈̯̙̞̤ͅD̬͉͓ ͍͉͕̠̥̬͕͖U͚NͅC̻͖̱̜͓͓̥A̯̳͉͓̠̖ͅN̤̝N͓͖̰̯͖Y̟̞̱̰ͅ ̟̙ͅw͖̯a̗͚̹̻̜͖̲y̠͙͕͎̜̬͙ ̟̘͔ͅt͓͈̭͇̯̗h͎̗̭̳a̬t̺̹͖͔̥̫̩ ̳̪̟̝̭ͅy̘͔̥͔̥̗͓o͔̻͎̘̼u̖̣̲ ͖̗̜̳̹͔c̟̜̖͎̙̪o̼̣u͔̺̺͙l̞̖̮̹̗d͕̹ ̰̦̯̳̱̗͍c̣̟̝͕͓̟͕h͚̭̰̙̤̘̪a̟̱̮̪̰̙ͅn̗̘g͇͍͓͕̫͇̦e̫͇̞̼̘̹ͅ ̱̫̞̝̦̮i̖̗͎̰̫ͅt͓̦̖̣͎̖͖̹͎.̮͇͕̮ ͈̟̻͕͚̰ͅͅS̹͈͎̹̹̱̫̻o͍̣̟̰ ̫i̗̪̬̞f̝̗͖ ̦̖̱̟͉̠̜̙̙y͈̲͓͓̖̪o͎̗̠̹̫̟͈u̱͕̟̘͎͉̻̻ͅ ̫͔̗̗b͍̞̫͎̖̫͇̻e̙̣̻̺l͉̙͇̬i̮̭̻̱̤̖͙e̮͍͙̱̮̹̙v̻̗̯e̪̩̠ ͔̯s̺o̝̯̰̹͇͇̲m̯͓͖̺̝̟̘̫e̯̪̣̲b̯̝̩o͖ͅd͇̥̩͙̫̭̝ͅy͉̻̱̫̯̺ ̱͎͈̱̗̯t̪̻͉̯̳h͕̹̖̼a̳̗t̘͙̳͎̤̯͚ ̫̞̝̻s̺̲̪̠̪ḁ̗̥͕̼y͓̹͎̥ͅs̗̬̯͙̮͕,͇̘̤͓͉̱̟ ̱͕“̘̹̗n̮͉̻o̮̟̗̭,̪͕̳̩̲̱ͅ ̤̬̯n̜̙̩͚͍͈̣̗̖o̗͓̯̩͇,͓̮ ͕̝̟͍w̬̖̺͔͖̦͇̟e͇̖̭’͚̮̘v͍̬e͈͓͉̺ ̠̩̯͕̞̤̞ͅͅg̜̙̹o͎̱̘̜t̘̝̮̤̟͓̥̥ ͈͚̞̬e͇̯̺͈̳̳n͈͚̘̭̲̞͙̘̙o̞̬u̯̼̟̭̠̻̘̭̻g͍̳̝h̖̝̮̮̣ ̱̞̬̪o͔̩͍̬̳̯ͅͅf͍̞̞̼̥͖ ͉̦̙͙̦̟t͇̗̘̙̟̙̻h͙̯͉ͅo̮̣̖̦̙͙̥̙s̬͔̟̳e͎,̳̻̖̫̩̗̲̯”̜̤̠̙ ̦̺͈͔͚̫͕͈͎t̯̳̙̟͎̼̼͕h̦͉͕̪̞͔e̬̺͎̟n̳̜͚̤ ̟̮̙͖a͉̹͎͔l̦̖̤͇̱͇ḽ̰̥̮ ̰i̠̳̫̩̺̞̲͎t͚ ͍m̹̣e̮͖a̲̝̲̻̣̫̞̭̮n̞̹͉͍̟͍s͙͚̩ ̯̤̭͈͇i̞̣͚̥̫͓̩̥ș͙̠͇̘̤ͅ ̥̤̟̩͔̭͚t̘̲̮̙͉̖̬h̩͚a̟̺͉̙̥̞͙̱ṭ̬ ͍̤̦͍̖͙͙y͎͚̻͚̮͇o̥̭̜u͈̺̤͓̞̼͇ ̺͕͚̳a͓̣͇̟̼r̼͍̻̝̙͙̞̩e͇͙͚̭ ̪̻̘̹̦̮͔̺g̼̱̣̻̜͚̭i̭͓͕̱̰̙̖v͈̞̯̥̜͕ͅi̺͎͖͕̹̮͖n͔͖̱͔̼̩g͙ ̱͔̺̹̩̥u̫͖̰̥̘p͎͇̟̞ ̙̞ỵ͍̳̩̯̩̤o͖̣̠͖̟̫u͇̙̜̞̱̝̩̤r̳̦͕͚̮̮͕̠ ̖͍̙̠̭͚c͙͇h͎͉͇̳̞̣͔a͕̦̙̘͇̜̮n̮̼͔̙̪̦͔̯̰c̮̬͇̗̜̝e͓̮ ̙̫͉͓̳t̫̳̲̱o̝̰̺̭̗̹ ͖̯̜͓̯͖c̞̬̠h̻͎̪̼͙a̭͍̠n̫͓͚̳̣͈g̟͚e͕͈̭͓̱̗ ̝̱̝͈͕t̤͖͈̜̣h̝̝͕̟͉e̯̝̟̬̗̠̜ ̺̻w̝o̟̱͓̬͔̮̖̫̲r̩͕̲̣͇̬̮̙ḷ̯͇̹̝̼̥dͅ ͓̯̗̤̟̥̙̰i͕̻n̬̝̘̹̩͕̙ ͉̫t̖̝͙̹̝̞̤ͅh͕͚̰̤̟̟̗̣e̥̠̪͖̠͙ͅ ̞̭w̬̣a̫̺̬y̥̝͙ͅ ͔̥͎̼͖̖̞͖ͅt͖͔̩̞h͍̫͎̹̝̻͚̘̫a̰͇ṱ͔͉͙͙͈̼ ͙̩͖̝̗͕̖͔̠o̦̣̝͚̤̥͖͇n̰̘̫̝̹̺̗l̟̯͓̺̠͍y̩̹̹̰ ̙̮y̥̗͎̼̠̥̖̖o͚̣̲̫u͎̳̘̺̯̦̖̙ͅ ̥̗̪͓̲̟̥͚̪c̝͓̠͔a͈͇͎n̺ ̗̣̖̗̦̞̠c̣̮̦͖̝h͇a͇̬̬̫̦n̮͕͍̮̞͇g͕̬͎̱̭͓͍͓͎ḙ̼̝̥͇̗ ̞̟i͚̘̠̗̲̬̞t͚ͅ.̭̩̖̰̱̤








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In a Fractal Cult Meditation, you focus on the structural similarities between the small and the large, the internal and the external.

I find it helps to focus your attention on a fractal image, but you don’t have to be too picky - fractals are everywhere.

Note the patterns of urban life: they are much like the patterns of the body. The circulatory system brings nutrients to your tissue, just as a street brings customers to a store front. There is a cyclical force which pumps everything along.



That force feels like action, then rest. Action, then rest. Action, then rest…

Work, weekend, work, weekend, work, weekend…

Green light, red light, green light, red light, green light, red light…

Sometimes it sounds like this: “thesis, antithesis, synthesis… thesis, antithesis, synthesis…”

Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub…

Fellow explorer, understand this!

The pulse of your body, the pulse of creativity, and the pulse of the city originate from the same source. They are echoes of the same rhythm. The only difference is the level of magnification.

You are a cell in the world’s body. Relationships are tissue. Organizations are organs.

When something moves you, it’s also moving your city, it’s also moving the nation, it’s also moving the world.

This mysterious pulse manifests differently elsewhere in the fractal. Along the Mandelbrot coastline, all the peninsulas and capes and other protrusions are unique, though structurally similar.

When you experience this connection, you begin to feel the pulse everywhere. Even microscopic experiences during your day carry the full tidal force of the entire cosmos.

You are waiting at a red traffic light.  You sense it’s about to turn green. And something inside you takes its foot off the break.

And then the crowd surges forward into the light.

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