Conversations before the Singularity

Conversations with a bot, among other things

Please read
The scratches of a dark nightThe rashes of foresightAnd I wanted youThe weight of my freezingI had come to youThe face I was givenI have no similarities toThe spaces in the law lookLike the faces in a word bookI get by,I get byThe matches of opportunitiesThe last thing I’ve never seenAnd I scream to youThe pain I was needingWas sort of trueThe one aim I was clearing Was the walls that grewThe crazes I overlookedThe leans into the cookAnd I did,And I didAnd I was screaming bloody murderAnd I was one with painAnd I stopped by the road sideCause this is from where I cameMy God but it’s so far awayIt would seem accidents have gone straight to youAnd you’ve changed your point of viewAnd the places you’re going toI got crowded,I get crowdedAnd I’m so glad that you’re mineIt twists up the fabric of timeAnd I’m useless,Yes, I’m uselessAnd your faces are bodiesAnd your hands are feetLet me roll aroundIn things I can’t believeBut I triedYes I triedAnd I triedYou know I tried

The scratches of a dark night
The rashes of foresight
And I wanted you

The weight of my freezing
I had come to you
The face I was given
I have no similarities to
The spaces in the law look
Like the faces in a word book
I get by,
I get by

The matches of opportunities
The last thing I’ve never seen
And I scream to you

The pain I was needing
Was sort of true
The one aim I was clearing 
Was the walls that grew
The crazes I overlooked
The leans into the cook
And I did,
And I did

And I was screaming bloody murder
And I was one with pain
And I stopped by the road side
Cause this is from where I came

My God but it’s so far away
It would seem accidents have gone straight to you
And you’ve changed your point of view
And the places you’re going to
I got crowded,
I get crowded

And I’m so glad that you’re mine
It twists up the fabric of time
And I’m useless,
Yes, I’m useless

And your faces are bodies
And your hands are feet
Let me roll around
In things I can’t believe
But I tried
Yes I tried
And I tried
You know I tried

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Comments

elevenacres:

Amateur photographer Charles W. Cushman traveled extensively in the U.S. and abroad capturing daily life from 1938 to 1969. Here are photos of  Manhattan taken in 1941 and 1942

(via sandman-kk)

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avalar:

I’m listening 

avalar:

I’m listening 

(Source: jadeita, via tinrobotx)

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larameeee:

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” 
- William Butler Yeats

larameeee:

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” 

- William Butler Yeats

Comments

We can, if we so choose, wander aimlessly over the continent of the arbitrary. Rootless as some winged seed blown about on a serendipitous spring breeze. Nevertheless, we can in the same breath deny that there is any such thing as coincidence. What’s done is done, what’s yet to be is clearly yet to be, and so on. In other words, sandwiched as we are between the “everything” that is behind us and the “zero” that is beyond us, ours is an ephemeral existence in which there is neither coincidence nor possibility. In actual practice, however, distinctions between the two interpretations amount to precious little. A state of affairs (as with most face-offs between interpretations) not unlike calling the same food by two different names.

So much for metaphors.

—Haruki Murakami  (via honesthypocrite)

(Source: whatshallisayoftoday, via fuckyeahreading)

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Comments
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sandman-kk:

Brutalist mind probe. Nottingham, August 2012.

sandman-kk:

Brutalist mind probe. Nottingham, August 2012.

(Source: scavengedluxury)

Comments
colt-rane:

JF
Comments