We have a name for things that don't copy themselves: dead.

a word on chatroulette and its sex-oriented spin-offs

i call dibs on the usage of this shit as plot in a dystopian, cyber-punk future where contact with other sentients has essentially devolved to this sordid, white-noise of "are you gonna fuck me?"

the entire social dynamic of a species could then be described by a simple fork:

if (hot > 0)

fuck ();

else;

could prolly rip through a whole chapter describing the surreal experience of seeing every human's face flicker with disjointed timing across my retinas like a drunken zoetrope of smut as both parties decide within an instant whether they want to keep looking at each other. as if the human form had become something so grotesque, so repulsive by nature, that mere odds determined that precise calibration of disgusting features which could arouse both party's interest in the same manner as a carnival freak show enthralls some marks more completely than others. the way that a 12 year old stares with rapt fascination at a woman with facial hair, and discovers that an entire, vast and overwhelming universe exists utterly beyond his experience or ability to comprehend, so, too, do swarms of bored, frustrated, animal anonymous crowd over a cliff of blind, idiot horror in their mad stampede to satisfy a base instinct for the satiation of their lust. that slack-jawed, yawning, gaping, devouring hole which is itself only a window framing and filtering the raw cosmos which even a dimly self-aware mind quests, pitifully, eternally to grasp.

in vain.

no sooner than the tissues hit their grubby carpet do they remount the tired office chair with damp ass-mat to stare into the glowing, square portal of the abyss and quietly ask themselves "why am i so alone?"

why not? because he's selfish, that's why.

thought of the day: octopus

too many fingers in too many pies. a vulgar manager of data.

the planet is evolving as a system because humans serve as a log of non-physical past events. until further genetic change can occur (because selection has slowed dramatically right now), human evolution is occurring in the areas of "what has happened" and "what is now known". does this mean that it's not nearly as random anymore? maybe not "random" so much as "unknowable" -- wouldn't that depend on how well we can predict future discoveries? knowing what we know should give us very good guesses about the next most rapidly expanding field of knowledge. technology, ethics and government, economy, social and cultural systems... how many ways are we evolving?

all of the systems outside ourselves -- are they also part of what "human" is?

they sleep inside the shelves. like bachelor hotels in japan.

keep mrs. puss clean. i mean, cleeeeeeeeeeeeean.

she's in heat right now, so, i mean, she'll let you pet her all you want, but it's kinda dirty.

yeah -- i seen him when he done it!

isn't it an unwritten rule of kissing that you shouldn't be watching TV over someone's shoulder while making out?

now how are you gonna protect those cookies?

i'm gonna eat 'em.

i still don't want to talk to you. but because i've always said that one must remain open to all communication, i can't just leave. i wish i could say how much it hurts though.

i used to think that humans would really benefit from eidetic memories.
i think history is a bad idea now
or at the very least, we should have been designed with a delete button to make the experience of time more pleasant

a harddrive is good enough: it records what you want, and you can always change it later, but best of all it's a step of removal away from consciousness. maybe a cpu is the exalted existence. only knowing what's immediate.

don't shade your object with edges, don't make art out of your shader networks.

and in here i have a little barf bag.

is that just in case of emergency, or is this obviously common enough that you had to plan ahead?

marshmallows. yeah.... it was kinda funny. yeah yeah, kinda.

more amusing because of the guy, but i guess if i hadn't seen it a few billion times already i would have laughed harder. or at all. it's a shirt now.

do you hear that? it's ticking.

the old whore knows

it's not like i have feelings anyway, right? no no, it's ok. you'd only think less of me for telling you anyway.

it's pretty much over now. wish you had been the one to say it, since i know i didn't want to.

rivers flow downhill. we won't be meeting at the mouth. take me away from here, stream of time.

it's beetle black and sits at my feet making sexy noises.

new toys are such a joy.

it's like there's some kind of fog.

free will versus destiny and all that. what's actually so disconcerting is that i don't know myself. is that the same thing? it feels different. isn't it usual to know what you're thinking and feeling while you're doing so? what happens to our humanity if we can't find out what's going on inside our own heads?

am i human?