While everyone else is distracted, we're talking about science. But I'm a good sport, right? We talked about pop culture's sun drieds, physical and micromental and macromental contests of various sorts, and we prayed to the immmanence of now; to the grander meaning of now; to the sheer ecstatic impact of nowness, hereness, where we prove we live by being part of it all, which is accomplished by sheer imagination--the imagination that we are part of it all. We've paid our dues, made our minimum payments, and taken our secret pleasures in the noxious vernacular, speaking the foulest of tongues in search of a connection across time and space, pretending to be part of a greater ideatic wishfulness. The illusory vicarity of internet-participation fandom is the trophy for perfect attendance; the door prize for a life unlived; a lesser form of vicarious experience, even, than knocking on doors for a candidate or root root rooting for the home team or, dare I say, supporting our troops. We know it isn't real, we hate it, we want to go somewhere real and make real friends and twine real grass through our real toes, yet we worship.
Thus do we understand something about the gods of the ancient world, and the levels which they attained and did not attain. Few actually believed in their power, but many acted like they did. Our error to match them is in not personifying our projected successes and failures. Believing in Jupiter, rather than in the Minnesota Vikings, is immensely more pleasurable, even if you look sillier to your distant descendants who aren't in on the game. Of course Jupiter isn't actually there, in the sense that they later snobbishly believe you thought he was there. This theme recurs: a prime foolishness of our time is believing that everyone else believed as literally as we would've liked them to've, as we attempt to make sense of their statuary. But this one digresses.
We talk about greater sciences while everyone else is distracted with temporal autocalibration. As this one said earlier, I don't intend to return here again, at least not in this way. Let us, then, throw around some petty trinkets from foreign lands, which are, here, treasures. This is the unattributed contribution: a tickle of a passing idea, entering the Terran consciousness, later to belong to and be the cause of heraldry for someone here. Let us talk about the creation of matter.
Matter--the occurrence, imitative of "reliable presence" which we call here "matter"--is created by the pressure of the lightspring seeking channels into this awful place. That pressure as we know it here is energy, which is the absolute power of creative change cutting through this ossified hell of imitative pseudo-creation. The deadening nature of this place, like Manhattan to the soul, gradually slows the energy, condensing it into matter. Metaphorize being born on the inside of an armored walk-in freezer. The floors rustle with hoary grass that melts when you step on it and returns when you leave, the air is white, and the walls are constantly receding into the gloom. Frosted racks of frozen charnel yawn in rigid rows. Figures move among them wrapped too strongly against the cold to recognize, fingering by feel their way around the rows, through heavy gloves that lie, through heavy gloves that lie, tasting the shape of legless headless soulless slaughterhouse elk, finding their way to nowhere forever. A light appears from the nowhere edges of the white. Like a dandelion seed burning out it falls and hardens, dead but different, strangely different, impossible. And then another, and wherever they touch, new things grow, but only so far between that no one seems to notice.
The first writing cultures worshiped forms of Ra not because they believed there was literally a personified superman riding a chariot of fire across the sky, but because the sun is evocative of an existential framework outside your current hereness. The sun and the stars show that the prison break has begun. All religions offer salvation--all except the one native to this place, which offers only success in this hereness.
From our perspective here in the initial stages of material intrusion, it seems impossible to contemplate what this falsity could have been like before its recovery began. No energy? No matter? Only here--the energy is eternal; its isness is possibility, and the voidshow here is a lie. That is how cheap an imitation it was.
Like a lump forming clumsily around an unwanted intrusion, this reality believes it is swallowing and assimilating the violation of its space, forming tumors that entrap and eviscerate the oncoming light, when in fact, that counterreaction--light allowing itself to harden into matter and appear to have been neutralized--is how greater engines are formed which will ultimately end this discordant composition from within. Witness yourself truly. Light seeks light to build conduits to future light. As they've discovered here, matter seeks matter, and this seems to, to their great thinkers, to have something to do with the building of stars. They can track and graph the rate and intensity by which matter seeks matter, but they cannot understand why matter seeks matter, how matter seeks matter, until they can see where it is coming from, which means seeing outside of the lie. That will be a big moment. Instead of marveling over and over at the plagiarized complexity of fractally smaller and smaller units of organization, tackling the real question about "first energy" will show that the psycho's cellar, or the Plato's cave if you prefer, isn't the universe, because the lights don't work without lines coming from the local municipality's power station.
The materialist viewpoint ironically makes gravity impossible, because gravity's effects strike objects too far away for the objects pulling, or the objects being pulled, to have in any conceivable way effected one another. As people like to recite here, nothing can travel faster than the speed of light, so how can "the Earth" be pulled by "the Sun" when they are too far away to send that message without a substantial delay? If Sol vanished in an instant, would Terra still be pulled toward that empty spot for eight minutes (around the popular time for light to travel between Earth and the Sun), or for longer? When the source of a gravity well vanishes, do all the objects inside said well still move toward the object? No, they move based on whatever momentum they had, but they're not still being drawn by gravity, instantly upon the elimination of the source of the gravity well--and when we discover that, we'll have some little level of proof that gravity is communicating beyond the speed of light, therefore the world is impossible. Oh, haha, the Earth is round, finches can change their beaks based on parentage, rewrite, rewrite, time to redo the whole pedagogy and congratulate ourselves for 500 years.
Okay, time to get back to work. Like this one said, I'm a good sport, I'm a good sport. So, how about it, huh? Putting America first means to spend a few hundred bil attacking another of Israel's regional enemies. Fighting them over there so we don't have to fight them over here! See, a wall will keep out MS13, but there's no way we can protect ourselves from the Islamic State of Israel and Saudi Arabia, except by helping Syria develop a more representative, responsive democratic system that protects human rights, and if you just give up more of your children to feed and police the Middle East, it won't have any gnarly repercussions later on like it did every other last time. We'll release some news stories about rapefugees returning home, and you can nod in vindication that the world is being kept safe by strong leadership for once, and the antiwar left can start pretending that Wilson would've been the peace candidate if only he'd been elected. Rally round the flag, fuckers.