Logic free of the need to explain. Thought without the confines of language. I don’t need you to undertand my universe.

I am one with the Body

I am Landrew.

I undestand the ppwer of the lie jesus Christ is my lord and savior.

It’s a fist. A slah ver four ones.

I answered that question. Lets move on.

You don’t get me. Your universe and mine use some of the same base in differet poieces so we can’t co exist. We clash.

You turn my fur up.

Go away. Be your universe.

We chose what portions of the common universe we al memory and thought to. I missed the first episiode of Anime and 90s cartoons. My base memoies are of diffefret charecters. I oersonaly like new, so I love popculture. It is the one area where I don’t think… I just see and store theones that I liekd.

I say. It’s not my universe. I mssed episode 1 of dungeons and dragons and I am not sure I’d catch up and have the same love.

Im shocked when somebody my age doesn;t know the Blues brothers or my top comdy claics.

They are shocked when I have not seen Lord of the Rings or Godfather or Braveherat.

Some pop culture makes my petrsonal cut, and some are just thos long haird twany country music

Hey yoikids, get out of my Jello tree.

key you kids.

Old peple sar resenting when the comon universe stays to far off our own. We like to fill our universe with fists. People who share enough cononality that we arre the norm. We like to be on … We like to think our side has the numbers.

Trump supporters are Ok with changing thefacts as long as they have the numbers.

Our universe wins.

If we eventually dig up all the boenes, then history is just our interretation of the stories in a language we don’t speak.

Telephon tag on a global scale. We don’t know what happend before w estarted writing shit down.

We don’t even know what happend when we starte writing shit down because the symbol for a sqy=uigly face ant that kinda looks like a spaceship could mean bean soup.

Flash… athat tatoo joke. ref #at. The 3 milionthe fist.

It was a brief pop up memory, like the note at the botom of the page.

You an’t footnote in a single stream of now.

I am sad that my own writng may be hyrogliphs even to me.

Auto corect gueses the words based on pieves.  Auto correct is trying to fi to fi o to figure out what word I meant to type when I actually typed hjdgfo. It’s like trying to build a dinasaur from a bone from the left leg of one animal and the ear bone #88s of a frog we can’t know existed.

I won’t be able nto know what my NOW was actualy thinking.

In the end, the most poerful lesson is this. Our universe is there for us. We control it.

We tell the stories.

That realization alone is power.

I remember thinking… as I typed a flury of random lets like a TV star faking tyoing on the keyboard.

The only thing that matters is my interretation of NOW. The past is just for reerece and fiction is as good as fact.

A stoThe story is all.

A second Life memory is as good as eality when you’re telling the story.

I rode a dragon.

I will NOT quit drugs because I don’t want to miss out on teh stories my Just Jeff mind can’t triger. My memory is locked and requires keys in smell, toiuch or sound to unlck.

n drugs, I can just open the safe deposit boxes at will. I can see in the drawers of pthings I would never rigger.

On drugs, I get to see the world is greater than my 26 symbols can des cribe.

The germans have a 26 charecetr word that they use to decribe what we would say in a paragraph.

They fist more words.

Maybe their NOW is higher than mine. I’;m happy with seven. I can’t comprehend how life is for the brain that sees 276 toothpicks as NOW.

I once write a story of how NOW is not a moment… but it can be a distance.

My now is evetrthing in my ences as the monet of reality. What I can see, smelll touch or whatever the other sences are.

If caopured at any time in my bexistance, now is the colected data of my sences.

My now can see or hold x number of items withiut having to catch up.

Thriow some poencils on the ground. EVeryone self will have a differet number they can see as now, before they have to use morfe time to caculate the number.

For ranman, he saw an infinte now.  He did not have to count 256 toothpicks.

His now included more.

An ant’s now is less. Any recorded moment in an ants life is less.  What I can see in my view, could be annhours time for an ant. The foot I can see atachedbto my leg is now. For an ant, it is not now for a long time.

When I go in an airplane, my now can be the entire globe.

I see the ocean and my NOW is all.  To the man on thebsuffboard his now is full of motion. His now is a moving wave.

To me in the plane, he is hardly moving.

Now can be a long time.

I no longer know what I was trying to say. My mind decided to yada yada yada that while I was still writing it down.

There is no rease on a continuouis single thought stream.

If my thoughts were on a fiber optic straw leaving the orange that is my universe, out into space, you could decide to look at that straw

s live feed of my now.  If you are on the moon, my now and your viewing of my now could be minutes apart. W won;’t see the sun’s now for 18 minutes,

Oh yeah.

I remember now.

The thought I had while curled up at the topmof the stairs.

We can see thereaction peoplr had of their vdesth

no… lost it again. It was people reacting to a tidal wave that killed them.  Like the last 8 seconds that remined innthat Docto Who epsidoe.

ok. I’m really going to take a break now.

I’m giing to stop typinmg, and eat the banana.

Some stiories wl be lost forever. The universe is filled with callback references we ignore as non sequiters.

I remember thinking for yars Steve Boysen had no beat. I though he was always not on the same beat as the music. One day it hit me. We only saw one hand.

We only saw the b roll percusion. A man beatingbto hisnown music may not seem like a beat. My left hand only types a few of the charectsr in my journals`. Imagine if you only saw the left.

I remember how we used to only hear one side ofthe CB comunications. How much fun it was tying to buield a story with only oen part of a conversation.

I applaud the people who know.. when in any enviornment that may be recoreded to be rmembered later, ALWAYS repeat the question they asked before you answer.

One voice should always include the second voice in their story.

It took me a while to figure out how tio save my voice in the phone sex I have in SL.

liStening to her voice is weird when your voice is just a pause.  My now ad libs whle universes in the delays.

Hell. I anstream off a universe in the oause between my now and yor reation.

Like watching your wife’s realization of the mariage propsal later, on camera.

The layesr or realization I was reveling in.,

Oh yea.

I remember.  John Mclean

I remember typing about my memories of NOW, knowing full well that thebgeratest storyn of the universe would be forgotten before I had the chace to write it down. I wanted to share my experience of the marvel of the universe. My peak at the conetivity that exists inthe fractions between the ping pong balls we can see.

I knewthat my excitement and hype would mean I’d stream off in a diferet direction long before I had the chance to actually tell it.

A stream, of thought high … manic on the pleasure of new realizations… It’s intoxicating.

I kew it’d make me forget my place… but in a stream of thought. Now run amok without saves or names or stories.

If I rode in a ferarri at 300 milesper hour or not is unimportant. My brainn …


Whre am I? Why am I standing on thisstage with cameras.

Why is Wil Smith standing in front of me with a pen flashlight.

What time is it agaim.

Wow.  It’s still Friday.

The ghosts didit all in one nigt. I didn’t miss Christymas.

I experienced a unievrse in teh breath between two words.

I learned to play the flute with my sons… and then I woke up.

(Pickard refgerebce)

The tenth Doctor lived chronologically over 100 yearfs, but hisntime streamwas onstant.  He could return to see you every Christmas for one day for 10 years, on one day. In his time stream… it hppened between he pause between; may I have your password please and him typing it.  We each have ourown time stream of now..  a universe of thought can happen in hat pause. Its on orians belt.

every el;f is an energy. I like o bleieve it is reborn when it dies. A nul space in our universe is just a colour we can’yt see. Nothingbis just a shade of orange. Perhaps a lot of who we are was on the seat when we were born.

We learn the nature of theuniverse as we grow.

We name the ground coming at uis before we die. How was I to know I was a sperm whale falling towards earth.

I can;t share my story… splat.

I’;m not sure why, but I’mgla sharing our stries gives us joy. I’m glad we interact and chi differet pitches to each other. I’m gald we figured out that stories are just diferet itches of sound that we can sit back and passivly enjoy and reframe our realizations of the now that just passed.

When you tel;l me a stoey well, I might learn a new avenue for smiles and pleasure.

Or be warned of a new experience that is not worthy of mytime.

A good story can save a lot of time. Some experiences arre best served with a recap.

Your single up or down level is what I hear. A good story makes me want to hear the details. For bad stories, yada yada yada will suffice.

I learned it anoys people when I take my interpretaions and relizations of their story before they finished telling it.

Your story only hasworth to me, if my reaction matches yours.  Often, your story is just a trigger for remembering my story, and apliying it as my bkey.

Sometimes just reminding me therevis pie is enough. Sometimes my unieverse needs a second self to introduce a story from my past. A good story in my memory can be what I need to choose a or b.

Your story is ireivant in my universe. sometimes just existing and saying you hve a story that will help, is enough to change the thought stream.

A second self reacting to the comon universe can be observed.

Oh look, a zeppelin.

Thanks. I was not able to break that strea, on my own.

My hell was the moment of realization when I knew I could not think without an external trigger.

My existance was behind a wall. Wthout a second self, I had no way to end. My whole look back tribute montage and my pride in being the one that figured out the universe just before earth was destroyed to make way for an interstellar bypass.

I want to die on a happy loop.

Tat instant where you realize the universe is cool, but you don’t get credit for the announcement.

Like snapchatting a bong hit like they do, but always letting go my hand off the car and startig a new universe without the preiously on recap so future viewers that see this story alone will know he other voice.

I love that doctor who episode where he has a conversation over time.

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