Conversations Of Time And Bird: Part 3

Suddenly you notice that dark side, the boundaries smudged into reality, more black than the darkest. Even the flashlights emitting black, like thick paint flowing in streams, reminiscent of headless pythons still bleeding through. Maybe you are just realizing the obvious presence that had been there since you saw blood. It's so invitingly black that you're almost already inside. Or maybe you always were.

**

Too many darks.

**

It's very dark.

Conversations Of Time And Bird: Part 2

Nature, do you think it exists?
What we think as nature is earth? What is not us?
Like the disasters.
But we are nature. We are the chaos.

But we create beautiful things. Like numbers.
And we use them for higher abstractions.
We build nature.
We change. We make change.
This is like the "way" things flow.
Like an equation, that is too far from our reach.

You see a girl, a hot one. She is hot because of years of natural selection. Purely random changes that creates a pattern.
The one which survives.
And one who gets the one from the other side.

We make art.
We define unique.
All this, out of this chaos.
Very, much like a picture painting itself.
Like a memetic conscience, that just got created out of nothingness.
Just pure beauty.

The Infinity Field

I had a name. Now it keeps slipping into darkness. Someone pulling one end of the infinite string, slowly dragging everything into the black sand, succumbing, silently. The feeling of emptiness, when all the million noises that never stopped — decided to. The feeling that nothing was ever real. A suit, shading everything, a suit that you controlled, a skin that you comfortably wear and take off, faking, not even trying to understand, listening to the distance, and not feeling what you ought to. The feeling of being alien on the inside. This can't be.

The things I believed, the emotions I trusted, the silence I loved were no longer the same, no longer mine. I found a door that opened to a bright white field, tall grass filling it till the horizons, smoke that floats up in the sky instead of the clouds. I found all this inside the darkness of these walls creeping all over, making boundaries, they tried to at least. Emerging out of a cocoon, breathing for the first time, like in the first rain. I felt what it is like to fly, without wings, without being told how to, without being any different. I tried to look at my hands and see the wrinkles, I tried to move my feet and feel the warmth of the dying sand. But I was not in the suit anymore, I was me. I found freedom, the very last inch of it. I met a man, I couldn't see his face because there was no light. 

I had lost track of time. I wandered around the place for days, without water or food, without anyone to bother me. This was the first living thing I saw back here. I listened to his stories the whole night. I didn't feel tired, I never felt like sleeping, you never need to sleep back here, or eat. I remembered what it was like to feel. The smell of the morning dew, the grass swaying with the wind, touching my skin. I kept listening to his voice for nights, like a lullaby, soothing, caring. I remembered. I saw my first sunrise that day — the green borders of the changing red. I wanted to sleep beside him. I could see his face while I closed my eyes... It was me.

The Watchmen

Hypothetical world has only one kind of job. To watch others. They change shifts, they switch places. One being watched becomes the one who is watching. They make records, logs. Then there are others, like a few hundred thousand billions, who support this enterprise. The ones who cook, the ones who manage and the ones who check. Then there are people. Like us. We are hidden. Living in darkness, under their cloud.

Forgotten, like we never even existed. Shutdown in this slum underneath. A world lit by the corporations that formed during the renaissance. They stand on our heads when people die. They die because of hunger and helplessness. They do not speak now. They do not cry either. They know their probable future and watch other eat the dead. Survival.

I see all this through this small hole I dug. I made it out of that place now! I can watch. I can watch everything. I can now.

Begin.

P.S: Read this in the voice of Tyler Durden.

And to Runaway

Since his beginning, man was that curious son who wandered around that great wilderness into the path of making. That guy, who lives inside almost everyone, forgotten and buried.

I sometimes feel like running away, without a reason, without telling anyone. Like the guy from Into the Wild, without anything to hold me back, without this never-passing dark cloud of burden, the chores and the monotone. Maybe not into the wild or to live in the mountains, but to be freed from all this fake emotions and noise, maybe never to return. To do whatever that I feel like, to not to answer to anyone, without liabilities and people to care for. 

To take that random bus and that last boat, to walk along the empty footbridge, to walk around the world in silence, without being noticed and called by my name. Runaway from this music, run faster from the existence. To hide among the crowd, to be that nomad. Being the camouflage, the homeless.

But how hard I try or decide, something holds me down. Something primitive - a fear inside. Fear that was the very definition of this life, that makes me do things. But running past everything? I don't know why, just being in the dark.

Random Insanities

Do you believe that everything happens with a purpose?

Do you believe, all these things in the world, everything happens with a purpose? Everything has a clear future, a strong past and is being led by some string? The clock ticks for a reason? The dog pees for a reason? MY dog pees for a reason :P :O ?? I tweet for a reason? The phone rings for a reason? Reason? Reason?

How can someone expect a reason for all this randomness. This world of epic entropy and nearly nothing but random things happening at random times. People fight for a reason, believing someone made these things and makes them do what they do for a reason. The same reason for there is no reason. 

Random, nothing happens for a reason. Nothing, and I mean it. Think about these terms: chance, entropy, probability, predictability. There is no reason, there is just man's desperate effort to make order out of chaos, but the last man standing is entropy. People try to relate the past into future, making reason for the incidents, pointing the finger at patterns, there is no such thing, but just a probability distribution. If you really want to respect something or someone, respect time, the concept as strange and expense as it sounds, the master of all games. 

What is the reason behind me writing this? No reason, just another random thing in my life and I like to believe it that way. There is nothing behind anything, no purpose, no destiny, but we make them they way they are now. We do things, we make destiny. 

Do you believe in purpose? Do you believe, everything happens for a reason? Do you believe in destiny? Think again...

This world is random. This world is insane. This world is entropy.

I throw a Die, this Random Insanities.

The Dream Is Real

Have you ever thought about yourself? This place we live in? All these people? All this mess and this sounds? What if, all these is just another dream? I always had that tough about this life, time travel, space vortex, Einstein, dreams, and I always wondered, what if we wake up from a dream when we die? A dream within a dream? An endless array of dreams? I had thought about this many times in my ever-weird-insomniac-bedtimes.

But, after watching Inception, I was like huh?And then like what? And then like umm, wait a minute!! What happened? How did I get here? Honestly, even after 24 hours, I still can't really keep off Inception. It's because I admire such cult movies a lot. And for those who still blames the movie to be over done with twists and turns, well, Nolan really wants the audience to participate in the process of unfolding, he appeals to think and to think good enough to keep up with the heist. I like his way to telling the story, rather than just being a dumb spectator.

The aftermath of this adventure was the real thing! My mind was clueless and still is on the path of recovery. My mind feels being turned, twisted and being pull out and stretched into layers. I felt numb, and going around and around in some timeless vortex. I felt claustrophobic. I felt like being carried away by an alien UFO light. powered abduction thingy! I felt wandering  in someone else's dream. Suddenly everyone was staring at me. I felt like, I'm gonna lose it! Gulp! I emptied a bottle of Coke. Sigh! It still feels the same. I tried music,  dunno how many songs I played, tried changing the topic and started talking with friends but none could keep Inception out of my mind.

"Dreams feel real while we're in them. It's only when we wake up that we realize something was actually strange." - I felt the same. Something was strange.

"What's the most resilient parasite? An Idea. A single idea from the human mind can build cities. An idea can transform the world and rewrite all the rules. Which is why I have to steal it." -  This is what the movie revolves around. Playing with dreams, dreams inside dreams, and to extract information while someone is asleep. But this time, the job was to plant and idea, an Inception!

"You're asking me for Inception. I hope you do understand the gravity of that request"

At the moment, I'm trying to get over this movie. It that kind of movie that makes you watch it a couple more time, 'cause you don't see many details at the first watch and makes you to love the plot more. I dunno how he does that, but he is one of the best story tellers in the business. BTW, for those who are easily taken by movies, don't watch this, it may cause suicidal tendencies. What if this is all real? Or is this really a dream?

Well at the end of it, one thing is for sure,  - for one's who actually enjoyed the movie, Nolan was very successful in implanting his idea into those millions. His very own Inception.