Raw Data Dump

when other systems provide too much input to the main consciousness, the C can than choose to shutdown those processes.

Processes carry data.

Once the data has been passed from the sub-system, or has not yet reached the s: data X is queued for the C to process.

relative to the available or utilized bandwidth: C must take action against data X. If no action is taken, X decays. If decay value is > relative tolerance, X is re-queued.

If X is processed in any manner, whether an action of re-queuing, or for further development, X is:

Just fucking numbers and letters.

I hate the fucking alphabet.

Best writing advice I have received so far:

  • …you go on and on and on…
  • …you tell the story as if it were about yourself…

End writing advice.

you always have to have some kind of gimmick.

Some prefer the night to the day. Some by a lot, some by a little. The same can be said for those whose favor lie with the day. But than there are those whom prefer neither.


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Raw Data Dump

Video is better at retelling stories to a lazy mind allowing the past to be recreated.

Do not create a commodity of yourself; instead, express concepts of value. Let the value not be your presentation. Let the value be in the concept.

Selfish-logical thought leads to death. Mechanics, the systems in place, make up any logical concept. To take on the view of logic is to become a machine. A machine is given purpose and designed for a specific task. To do or not to do. If than else…

Are we more than machines? Are we designed for a specific task?

Logical thought is a part of us–a part not the whole. Or maybe, logic is the whole and all else the parts…

Logic would say all else is the parts: only rational.

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Must Read For Awhile

Back soon. Must read for awhile.

Expected time of return: 3-5 days with a 5 week tolerance.

Books to read (in random order):

  • The Price of Altruism: George Price and the Search for the Origins of Kindness by Oren Harman
  • 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami
  • American Gods by Neil Gaiman
  • What It Is Like to Go to War by Karl Marlante
  • 42 Fallacies by Dr. Michael C. LaBossiere
  • Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace (started: 20% complete)
  • You Are Not So Smart: Why You Have Too Many Friends on Facebook, Why Your Memory Is Mostly Fiction, and 46 Other Ways You Are Deluding Yourself by David McRaney (started: 20% complete)
  • The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky (started: 44% complete)
  • The Fabric of the Cosmos: Space, Time, and the Texture of Reality by Brian Greene (started: 48% complete)




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Message To Majicdumpling

Your “Catching Waves” post told a good story until the end. The conclusion was weak:

The surfer got in front of the ripple and began paddling furiously.  Though not strong enough to support his board at first, the ripple quickly grew in breadth and height until it was a decent wave, with the surfer was [sic] gliding comfortably on top.  The size and power of the wave multiplied at an astonishing rate.  The young surfer soon found himself riding a massive tsunami, unlike anything anyone had ever seen before.

The landscape was changed forever as the tsunami crashed into the shoreline.

The veteran surfer never knew what hit him.

The supporting phrase “unlike anything anyone had seen before” is a generalization. While it may be true all the occupants of the beach that day may have never seen a tsunami wave, the assumption is hubris and cannot be verified. Additionally, the magnificence of the wave should be left for the reader to decide. The author should properly describe the characteristics of the wave to aid the reader in their definition.

A similar error is made in the closing statement, “the veteran surfer never knew what hit him.” The veteran probably was shocked to be crushed by watery death, but he must of seen it coming. I Imagine him with the howling fantods.

Here is my suggested revision:

The young surfer plunged his arms into the salty foam and strained his shoulders against the water’s resistance. He poured his strength into the ripple; as he atrophied the ripple became a wave. The wave held him, allowing him to harvest his expended energy. Soon the feral maw of the ocean threaten to consume the young surfer. The wave had lured him, pleading for him to come and follow.

The young mind misjudged, only seeing the ripple of a mighty force of energy. Youth allowed the surfer to grow in confidence as he began his harvest. The harvest was deceptive, a promise made by energy only concerned with its own course.

Youth loses his balance and violently tumbles into the wave’s breast. Forces grab hold of him and dash his body against the rocks leaving gobbets of meat for the sharks he once fought. The veteran noticing the lowering of the ocean’s surface began scanning the horizon before he was caught in the it-who-shows-no-favor-to-the-young-or-old wave. Strength depleted he straddles his board with terrorized eyes; howling the fantods.

The landscape was changed forever as the tsunami crashed into the shoreline.

The above revision does some justice, giving the reader the description of a wave they have never seen before. Also more meaning is conveyed by the closing statement.

Thank you for your consideration.


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Music = James Blake “The Wilhelm Scream”


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The Eidetic Self-Image

I have directed a few friends and family to my first short story “Meat”. First comes the proposal: I mention I have been writing and have finished a short story. The mark will give a flat reply, then I advertise my blog and the name of the story. I go on to describe the content of the story. During the description I say how most of the protagonist is really me. I always feel petty after the whole process. Feeling petty hasn’t been the truly difficult part. I can deal with feeling petty. I think the tribulation has come from me telling the readers how much of me contaminated the protagonist. Why would I reveal this? I count four reasons why this is a bad thing to do:

  • the reader doesn’t care.
  • now the reader is obligated to give positive feedback.
  • the author will know the positive feedback is feigned, and take offense.
  • all the demons that ended up the page will be known as the author’s demons.

Telling the reader a character is only an image of the author steals: the reader’s freedom to define the character; the author’s ability to freely develop the character; and the character’s ability to take on free will. From the start the author is working against themselves. I won’t be telling my readers how much or little of myself is any of my characters anymore. The value is left for the reader and author to define.

Where does the eidetic self-image come from?

The pristine reflection of the author appears because good writing is tough. You may feel like your saying some great stuff, but really it’s just shit. The author could simply be pouring out his insipid mental deficiencies. Writing too much of yourself into a character will most likely bore. Also the author opens the door into their psyche a little too wide, allowing people to come in and mess up the place.

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Music = Little Dragon “Ritual Union”



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