The Invasion Of Image

Technology update:



I've been reviewing the patent applications for such things for the last six months.
Now the presentation and publication has begun.

Prepare for what was illustrated on the subway in the movie, "Minority Report".

The Invasion of Image will ere commence,
and with it rarefaction of visual quiet and Stillness itself.

Homey Homily

Yep, I Would Think This Is Cool

My good pal Equant over at Retards.org has this page of
Shakespearean sonnets in Morse code.

It has a nice beat. And I don't dance anyway.

Planting Arrival

Ward Nerd

Howdy in the Holla':

I rarely bring politics onto this page,
and I wouldn't call this 'political'...

The war nerd isn't about sides.

He's about tactical and strategic common sense, and
having a memory beyond last season's Survivor.

Read this latest piece;
then weep;
then go look up the references you didn't understand;
then go read every other article he's written;
then go look up the all the other references you didn't understand.



. . .

(I'll be busy for a few days,
flagging down perhaps the loveliest woman I've ever met.)

I See People In Their Water

I see people in their water
Claiming water rights against
People passing by on the way to the sea

I see people wave divining rods against gravity
Bricking wells over bickering
People scratching the sand for any moist hope

I see people damning it up for hydraulic power
Using it to wash the dirt off and below
People rationing, people saturating

I see folks just sit under bridges watching it roll by

I see it fall from sky,
On eyes forgotten and dry
I feel it the same,
Running through me red and sweet

I see people squeeze it from rocks
See it tear up and drip into a smile
I see people scrape it from cold windows
Cursing the frost of their freedom

See it bead on the worker’s brow
See it bubble before late dinner hour
See it douse other fires than simple flame

See it dreamt of as lost clouds
Over the horizon

See the birds shake it from wing

See it molder and shudder,
An old puddle stepped in deep
Beneath the canopy.

See folks drown in it
By murder or despair

Find it seeping from broken pipe

See glades given sun
Once a day

See it bought, traded and given away

See truth in it
Reflected rippling as a lie
See it spit upon the golden face of misery

Feel it run through your hair,
Living life as we run
From storm to storm
Kissing under our parasol quietly