Tuesday, January 7, 2025

On aliens, dimensions, struggles, observations, and ideations

 Howdy.


Long time no read or post. I've recently shared ramblings of my ideas of the universe further with a friend, and been ruminating on how poorly I phrased them.


Thought I'd share here just in case anyone else had similar or perhaps wanted clarifications.


To start... the 11 dimensions. The first 4 familiar. 1 a point. 2 a line. 3 makes 3d space.  Simple. 4th, change along time. We experience it one way, but both ways exist. The 5th dimension relies on another "universe" outside our own, and that has its own 4, and the linear distance between them belies the 5th. 2 universes, a line of distance between them.  Simple, but ramifications complex. Even without more, the space between them hard to imagine as flat. The 6th, the depth and width between them. The 7th, difference in time between. Now add another. The 8th, line between, and among, forcing a 3rd between. But time between both 1, 2 and 3 universes cannot be the same. That's the 9th. 


9 dimensions, basically just 3x3. Simple but still vast. 2 more? How? Adding in any additional universes doesn't increase dimensions, only changes between them. Past, and future. Them being stagnant doesn't allow them, but allowing them to interact does. Bingo bamo. 


Who cares. Doesn't matter really. Point is to make the idea exist. Let's take it further, but simpler. Skyrim, the videogame, exists. Separately. Not a universe perse, but something that exists here... now... within ours. It has rules, logic, and it cannot be argued it's not there. 


What does it look like to interact with it? Surely the npc and world are binary code, 1, 0, and math. Still, complex and intertwined. We can change it, interact, play the game. We can also mod it, add things, shift and change it. All without care or understanding of the npc or world. The logic just changes. The rules change, or are added or deleted. What would even that feel like, were skrim or its inhabitants able to feel? Clearly they wouldn't never see a mouse, or a file, or have the ability to know their world changed... being "sentient" and gate we hold for humans and our super cool ability to know what happens amongst our world, understanding its rules and reality very different. How would they know or understand the "alien" or player changing anything outside their known rules?  We're they to catch a glimpse or idea of something surely it wouldn't be some mega fauna clamoring at a mouse, changing files which they knew not existed, or like a big fat hand or guy shaped dude coming to probe them or do things.

Already past insanity ideas. What if similar were true amongst our world? What if we were a game... a simulation... a lower portion of a larger ecosystem? Microscopic cells, to electrons further down, to black holes above, to new dimensions higher? What would an "alien" interference look like? How could we expect a green man with a great flashlight to be it? 

I don't know anything. I'm pretty crazy. Certificate included. However, I do know another about what i don't know. I know a bit about what i do.

Just more questions... but not as crazy as it seems when you think about it. Aliens are comically known as green dudes with probes and penis shaped probes. True reality allows aliens to be so foreign that its impossible to rule out. Even still... we sometimes know when someone or something comes along thats... different. That reflects something we cannot say, for certain, on how it's supposed to be interpreted.

I know evil exists. I know peace exists. I know violence exists, and eat every day to prove it. I know the rules, both immediate like food and those like society. I know what it takes to survive as is...

The question is what does it take to survive like what is best?


I have ideas. But just more questions.


Who knows? What forces exist to tell me the truth beyond those that wish to continue existing? Can an ideal that exists to persist itself be true if it doesn't allow itself to be extinguished?


I don't know. I don't know anything. I dont.

Thursday, November 9, 2023

Another try

 Rolin, now roland is adopted. I honestly don't know what prompts these updates. Ive had lesser noted and greater passed.


Optimism. Ive yet to feel comfortable with it.


One day compression will decode if I'm worthy the bit.

Friday, October 6, 2023

Death by living.

 It all withers in time. It all breaks and needs mending hands. Imperfect time limited hands. Always working. Always toiling. Always trying and failing. Always ruining something by accident. How can u do more than harm to this world when I require harm to exist, and still yet have a horrible time.

Is there worth? I'm not sure. But if there were, could i meet the measure? Couldn't anyone see this?

Does it matter. Do I matter.

Why.

Saturday, May 21, 2022

Enrinched heresy

 Quite simply brilliant but also unknown. We allowed the programs to "program" themselves. Its simplicity was that it was no more than the same brute force attacks of the past, but now our silica based mazes now worked so much faster. Throw any problem at it, give it a goal, and it will eventually get there. Through failure, but fast. Able to assert billions of attempts an hour, each a new iteration. Some stable and retried qn improved, but then also restarting from scratch every so often.

It was interesting to watch the machine work and compute its goal. Its live feed of results visible, but the process of such a quantum nature that they not allowed how to see the process worked.

Idk why I try this. My mind allows the delusion casually but without interest beyond my own I die inside creating. 

Quantum mechanics, parallel universes, and death and suffering beyond understanding across trillions of marshaled and flawed created universes, which we find ourselves to be in a recursive loop within another ceators mis-moraled experiments with the same difference we showed.

An illusuon we original, echoed across a hall of mirrors, a fourth or further reflection able to several forward and backwards the changes and mishapements of the "others".

It was hell. Death await all. Humans though, we created infinite life and invincibility by accident. And as such fractured our souls to torture, through variance, to endure every celestial torture imaginable and not.

It was the first time the universe felt hurt and winced. 

It was the first time the dreams felt more like knocking on the door besides an imagined noise. 

It was one of the last times he tried to silence his absolution.


Everything dies.


Everything suffers.


Within infinity, moving forward is the only change possible.


I can't. I won't. I shan't. I can't stop it.


I just hope I cause less hurt.

Friday, March 25, 2022

The copy cat

 The program was simple but robust. "As deep as a puddle and as wide as an ocean" used to be an insult. Now, it recalled the endless ocean with nothing on the horizon, stranded in the middle with no hope. An endless empty oasis, with nothing below and no escape.

It always started the same way. An almost comical and pedantic recreation. A laughable attempt at every task, except those like comedy that required it. Every roast stored. Every error corrected plus some. The next attempt, almost competent, but at the end a blend between foreshadowing and threat. Delivered like a light heated dagger to butter.

After, mastery. A start like a fire under a bomb. Each endeavor, emulated, perfected, recursively corrected to a formless slither of mastery. A snapshot of each moment already elippsed by the next. Unstoppable machinations proving each special prospect of humanity to be a poorly executed version of its concept. 

Art though... An already nonsensical version of obscurity the machines, art, proved the hardest to best. The least reducable to it innards, as relative they were. Still, one by one, they fell. Paiting, both realistic and absurd. 3d printed dreams so diverse they invoked many emotions. Soon, it was all we wanted. But we knew not what the soul was.

Free style rap was the last bastion. It wasn't cadence, nor content, nor splendor. It was pure flex. The computer could bust the illest rhymes, but they rang hollow. How could one wax poetically about the plight of the bitch, while throwing shade upon the shoe of your opponent without the struggle in the heart.

Its true, the machine spun webs of rhymes interlaced with callbacks and shoutouts galore. Ones that echoed on time from bass to mountain. Yet, 


Wtf. I'm so sorry you read that.



Saturday, July 11, 2020

Halfway there

Today my father died. I was neither surprised nor aghast. It's strange. 66. I'm more than halfway there.

Here goes.

:(

Friday, November 1, 2019

It's Just...

If it were would it matter.

if it weren't, would it matter?

does it matter really?

Does anything,

Im floaTING.

Im lost.

Im nowhere.

IM....

here.