Timestamp: 15:31, 28th of November, 2014
Workingtitle: We are not alone.
‘It takes all kinds to make a world. The fat ones, the short ones, the curious ones, the kind ones. The spectrum of our existential consciousness, is comprised of tiny bits of interactions with these variegated facets of humanity, like watching the light glint off fine cuts made in one of those sparkly thingies some people seem to like so much....’
‘For Chrissake, stop blathering on about such dashed nonsense. Don’t you have anything better to do? For example, figure out exactly what the subspace of good couplings is for the four-point functions?’
‘Ooh, look. There, to your four o’clock. My goodness, she’s so pretty. The way her hair falls across her face when she leans forward..’
‘Again with the humming. what is it with you crazy aes-sedai? And stop tugging on your earlobe. You look creepy. Okay, I need chocolate. And perhaps some ice-cream. And coffee!’
‘I want to run. Freely, without restraint. Over fields, and hillocks, and valleys. Past small stalls selling tea and biscuits, past bullocks drawing carts full of hay, past the straggling industries at the edge of civilisation, or, at least, the edge of wi-fi. I want to run past train stations, over flyovers, slide on railings, and vault over cars....’
‘Oookay, ignoring the weirdo with his orthogonal tangents for a moment, are we going to get coffee? I could do with some food too, while we’re at it.’
‘If you find her so perfectly fetching, then why don’t you go talk to her? It’s been too long that you’ve been hung up on M. Stop sulking.’
‘I want to run past faded graffiti on old buildings and dogs scavenging for thanksgiving leftovers. Past plastic-and-chrome bookstores that stock naught but bestsellers, and old smoky bars with a jazz quartet playing songs from a forgotten age....’
‘So, if you look at the two chiral vertex operators, in the fundamental representation and its dual, the only way they can couple is through the identity.’
‘What if this place had a moat?’
‘A coffee shop with a moat. Really?’
‘That would be so cool, we could throw those buggers in to the sharks when they act all pretentious. Oh, look, I’m reading Murakami. I’m so cool. I’m going to use words like reprobate and excrescence, quote obscure pieces like Janacek’s Sinfonietta, and talk about how the mundane and the metaphysical are inextricably linked.’
‘You hypocrite. You read Murakami and do all those things.’
‘Oh. Well, crap.’
‘So, are you going to talk to her? Or get coffee? Being hungry makes me ornery. Or is that being sleepy?’
‘Look. People you know, to your seven o’clock. D’you want to talk to them?’
‘Hm. Some company might be nice. Besides, I’ve been sitting here for too long. I’ll wave at them.’
‘Run, run, while you can. It’ll just be awkward for everyone if you wave. They didn’t expect to see you here, but then they’ll have to come sit with. Then it’ll just be silences, with bits of meaningless nothings floating in little boats of awkwardness, in a gravy sea of embarassments. Say you have an urgent appointment.’
‘Ah, yes, to the doctor! For herpes? An appendectomy?’
‘Oh, shut up. They didn’t see me.’
‘The relief, the relief. Methinks I feel faint.’
‘Of what use are these moments of utter eloquence if not to convince you to do stupid things?’
‘Like walk on that frozen lake?’
‘Don’t even remind me of that.’
‘Shutupshutupshutup...’
‘Run past hills, with little brooks and sheep grazing in their little bubbles of serenity and perpetual amazement..’
‘Or consternation. You know these sheep, they find a stream instead of their usual patch of grass and the next thing you know they’ve wandered up the hill and are trying to jump off a cliff.’
‘Stop indulging him.’
‘(or consternation), past mountains, with great big craggy peaks that are nigh-impossible to scale, and beyond...’
‘Sometimes, it takes all kinds to make up a person. Whispering, cajoling, needling, arguing, agreeing, temporising over trivialities together, pennies for thoughts, as we subconsciously influence what you call your own notion of free will. Whether you think its your memories, or your emotions, or your baggage, or God’s voice....’
‘Or a dyslexic Dog’s voice...’
‘Or that, or logic, or your own notion of free will. You are, of course, free to rationalise your actions any way you want it. But sometimes, if you feel brave, or adventurous, or curious, or simply lonely, do sit down in absolute silence, and listen to us, the voices in your head. For you are not alone.’
‘I want to run into space, to soar in the great big open sky with its uncountable finity of stars, past planets vast and gassy, and planets compact and tectonic, and stars mild and serene, and furious ones, flaring with tempers under little control.’
‘I want to run faster and faster, picking up momentum as I go along, leaving comets hurtling in my wake, as I approach the speed of light. And as light, I want to run to the edge of the universe. To the edge of infinity.’
‘And beyond...’
Workingtitle: We are not alone.
‘It takes all kinds to make a world. The fat ones, the short ones, the curious ones, the kind ones. The spectrum of our existential consciousness, is comprised of tiny bits of interactions with these variegated facets of humanity, like watching the light glint off fine cuts made in one of those sparkly thingies some people seem to like so much....’
‘For Chrissake, stop blathering on about such dashed nonsense. Don’t you have anything better to do? For example, figure out exactly what the subspace of good couplings is for the four-point functions?’
‘Ooh, look. There, to your four o’clock. My goodness, she’s so pretty. The way her hair falls across her face when she leans forward..’
‘Again with the humming. what is it with you crazy aes-sedai? And stop tugging on your earlobe. You look creepy. Okay, I need chocolate. And perhaps some ice-cream. And coffee!’
‘I want to run. Freely, without restraint. Over fields, and hillocks, and valleys. Past small stalls selling tea and biscuits, past bullocks drawing carts full of hay, past the straggling industries at the edge of civilisation, or, at least, the edge of wi-fi. I want to run past train stations, over flyovers, slide on railings, and vault over cars....’
‘Oookay, ignoring the weirdo with his orthogonal tangents for a moment, are we going to get coffee? I could do with some food too, while we’re at it.’
‘If you find her so perfectly fetching, then why don’t you go talk to her? It’s been too long that you’ve been hung up on M. Stop sulking.’
‘I want to run past faded graffiti on old buildings and dogs scavenging for thanksgiving leftovers. Past plastic-and-chrome bookstores that stock naught but bestsellers, and old smoky bars with a jazz quartet playing songs from a forgotten age....’
‘So, if you look at the two chiral vertex operators, in the fundamental representation and its dual, the only way they can couple is through the identity.’
‘What if this place had a moat?’
‘A coffee shop with a moat. Really?’
‘That would be so cool, we could throw those buggers in to the sharks when they act all pretentious. Oh, look, I’m reading Murakami. I’m so cool. I’m going to use words like reprobate and excrescence, quote obscure pieces like Janacek’s Sinfonietta, and talk about how the mundane and the metaphysical are inextricably linked.’
‘You hypocrite. You read Murakami and do all those things.’
‘Oh. Well, crap.’
‘So, are you going to talk to her? Or get coffee? Being hungry makes me ornery. Or is that being sleepy?’
‘Look. People you know, to your seven o’clock. D’you want to talk to them?’
‘Hm. Some company might be nice. Besides, I’ve been sitting here for too long. I’ll wave at them.’
‘Run, run, while you can. It’ll just be awkward for everyone if you wave. They didn’t expect to see you here, but then they’ll have to come sit with. Then it’ll just be silences, with bits of meaningless nothings floating in little boats of awkwardness, in a gravy sea of embarassments. Say you have an urgent appointment.’
‘Ah, yes, to the doctor! For herpes? An appendectomy?’
‘Oh, shut up. They didn’t see me.’
‘The relief, the relief. Methinks I feel faint.’
‘Of what use are these moments of utter eloquence if not to convince you to do stupid things?’
‘Like walk on that frozen lake?’
‘Don’t even remind me of that.’
‘Shutupshutupshutup...’
‘Run past hills, with little brooks and sheep grazing in their little bubbles of serenity and perpetual amazement..’
‘Or consternation. You know these sheep, they find a stream instead of their usual patch of grass and the next thing you know they’ve wandered up the hill and are trying to jump off a cliff.’
‘Stop indulging him.’
‘(or consternation), past mountains, with great big craggy peaks that are nigh-impossible to scale, and beyond...’
‘Sometimes, it takes all kinds to make up a person. Whispering, cajoling, needling, arguing, agreeing, temporising over trivialities together, pennies for thoughts, as we subconsciously influence what you call your own notion of free will. Whether you think its your memories, or your emotions, or your baggage, or God’s voice....’
‘Or a dyslexic Dog’s voice...’
‘Or that, or logic, or your own notion of free will. You are, of course, free to rationalise your actions any way you want it. But sometimes, if you feel brave, or adventurous, or curious, or simply lonely, do sit down in absolute silence, and listen to us, the voices in your head. For you are not alone.’
‘I want to run into space, to soar in the great big open sky with its uncountable finity of stars, past planets vast and gassy, and planets compact and tectonic, and stars mild and serene, and furious ones, flaring with tempers under little control.’
‘And beyond...’
