3D Sensory Perception

As daffodils push their leaves up out of the ground, I see birds in the tree limbs overhead.

But I cannot hear them.

The whistling of tinnitus is louder than normal today.

And with that, I have lost part of my former normal hearing.

And with that, I have lost part of my three-dimensional sensory perception (or 4D, if you consider time of flight (of sound and birds)).

The second time my wife and I met, at age 14, we hiked five days on the Appalachian Trail.  Ten years later, we married.

My reputation at that time earned me the nickname "Eagle Eyes" because I could hear many sounds others couldn't and would identify the source of many of the sounds, usually birds, accurately.

Boy Scout training, in that case, taught me to pull order out of the chaos of background noise.

Now, much of what I see and hear is background noise again.

Would that I could write a violin piece for someone like Anne-Sophie Mutter and hear all the subharmonics!

Perhaps I could convince my wife that I prefer hikes on the AT to walking through shopping districts and tourist traps?

I don't remember as many birds or their sounds as I used to, but then again I can't hear them, so there is a symmetry to my forgetfulness.

To see the silence of space from a suborbital craft would suit me just fine, I'm sure.

Today is a time for quiet meditation.

No need to see or hear much.

My curiosity is not piqued.

Small piles of glommed-together snowflakes melt under the pelt of rain.

Give in to the tinnitus, sssssssssssss...

Give in to a morning lost, zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Move to Tennessee, hide your income...or not

If you value openness, do yourself a favour and take your business to any state in the U.S.A. but Tennessee.  The state's government leaders like to hide more and more and more...

It'll be my sweet torture to see the governor nominated for a U.S.-wide post in 2012.

Sigh...whatever happened to my state of happiness?

Oh yeah, like Andrew Jackson and Andrew Johnson were model citizens!

Horse walks into a pub. The barman says:

1. "Why the long face?"
2. "Hay!  Here's the mane menu for today."
3. "Life got you feelin' a bit reined in, eh?"
4. "Chewing on your bits and pieces, are you?"
5. Fill in the blank: ______________________

Where do I plug my Kinect into my new Eggs Box?  Glad I don't have a frozen blackberry!  And them dongles and apples...well, that's between you and your equipment, isn't it?

If your population is being fed processed food, is that a sign you're being misled or misfed?  Should you even get out of bed?  What exactly's going through your head?

The freedom to speak one's thoughts openly is a blessing one can never fully appreciate in one's lifetime - long after you're gone, others will determine the worth of your freedom in the moment and the meaning/value to their celebration of freedom.

Is life a comparison of this to that all the time?

When is an orchid no longer wild?

When has a prizefighter reached prime?

Another dustbuster bites the One?

Just when I thought there was nothing else that could be attributed to keeping NASA and its contractors on the ballooning government payroll, I found out, through a review about and the stories in the book by Mary Roach, that there's a PCLP who might be feeding us hogwash.

What kind of humour will I think to find next?

Matter and Antimatter

While the Fermi satellite verifies positronic thunderstorm activity, we have to ask, what's going on here:

1. Anti-investment: Solar going Chinese
2. Investment: Chinese going German

Science Has A Face of Humour

Sense has a farce of humour?

Humour has a sense of science?

Faces have a humourous science?

We believe what we see because we can't see anything else.

A Self-Guiding Auto Tour

Many of the icicles are gone.

But the bent gutter lingers on.

Birds are not as desperate for an easy meal.

The star radiates and exposed surfaces warm.

We go about our rituals in harmony with others.

Simple sentences, in part, impart simple images.

How many of us spend our whole days going from one simple sentence to another?

A life sentence, n'est pas?

Therefore, I return to the box full of circles and spirals.

Which ones shall I repeat, alomost word for word?

Should I put on my linguist/cryptographer hat and create a new method of communication?

Speaking in tongues - using music or abstract art - and playing the melodious interactions of my social species any way I please?

Are you more interested in the magician's sleight-of-hand or the magician's lifestyle choices?

Reading thought sets that contain little in the area of new ideas (through no fault of their own, either because of rote training or innate tendencies) reveals where the sewer pipes run or the septic tank and field lines lie.

Humour informs and it also teaches.

I have the legs but do I want to stand on my own two feet and take responsibility for what my humour can reveal to those wanting to develop new habits of thinking?

Or is my journey a solo trip through lands where tribes and clans proudly protect rituals that have worked for many a generation?

So easy to fall back on the thought that the time in which I live is the enlightened one.

Modern conveniences become inconvenient by comparison.

Postcards, slates and wall paintings still have their uses.

This is one of at least 14,355 blocks of modern communications left to communicate that which has not yet been spoken and that which has not been rehashed one more time.

I do not want to disturb those who comfortably enjoy their ageless rituals.

And those like me, who already know what's going on, already know what's going on and what will continue to occur in one cycle or spiral or another.

I wish I could give the curious the encouraging knowledge that unveiling what the illusion of the universe covers up changes the world in a fundamental way.

The set of thoughts that define how you see the world changes.

But trees are still trees and squirrels are still nuts about nuts.

And I am still a childless ol' coot living out a lifelong childhood because I have no personal need to take the parented world seriously.

So, in my imaginary world of fairness, I don't think it's right that I expose to all groups what any one group of parents is teaching their children about/against other groups at any one time.

I can only hope to find where the membranes of subcultural cells are permeable (or semipermeable) and hope there's a common substance of an idea that they'll share on an equally healthy basis, no matter how healthy or unhealthy a particular cell/subculture may be, now, in the past or in the future.

All I know is all is all.

States of energy.

Simple thoughts for a slowly deteriorating simple person who seeks to uncomplicate his simple life.

All while building up the courage and energy to describe a set of conditions where states of energy do not exist.

As the saying goes, how do you describe time to a one-dimensional dot?

What's the point of having the power of the universe if the universe is such a tiny thing in comparison to something else?

The misdirection of humour - use it wisely - it is the only universal truth.