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Quidnovi: Out of Time... |
Category: 0 21 comments
7 Oct 2002 @ 17:27 by scotty : Good one .... 8 Oct 2002 @ 04:49 by swan : Dancing megapixals will do that to you I hope it is only temporary! ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ No it didn't last...if you wait long enough the image on the right will disappear completely and you will be AWAKE and AWARE! 8 Oct 2002 @ 23:15 by koravya : tempus fugit since when? --------- Tempus Fugit, you know it ;-) FD 15 Oct 2002 @ 17:10 by swan : Since it sprouted wings. :-) ............Martha is so concerned about Buffalo wings but I am still trying to figure out how you did that magic trick above where one can go through the center of the image to a secret message all their own. Or did you do that just for me? ++++++++++++++++++ I didn't Know that LZ drank! *************************** I think the rumor got started in here? ********************** I just realized that Andy was in on this conversation too. Hi Andy. Some of my best friends are Pisces. I was married to one but that didn't work out. Hold off on the wings for a few days and things will settle down. ******************** I didn't know that LZ was thinking about getting married who is the lucky lady? 16 Oct 2002 @ 15:39 by quidnovi : Are you waiting for something? 16 Oct 2002 @ 16:12 by invictus : Or... Is something waiting for you? If so, how much longer do you REALLY think it's going to wait? Hesheit can be quite impatient, you know. Well, what are you waiting for!?!? Get moving. --------------- 1. Yes! 2. It depends... 3. I know! 4. Is that your advice? Interesting...(that's what I had been pondering). "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven." ---Ecclesiastes 3:1 FD ___________________________ Good answer. As for my advice... beats me. Fade to black? 16 Oct 2002 @ 16:26 by scotty : What are you waiting for ? Taking action If only . . . Do it NOW Get started Plan and do The Learning Curve Addicted to success Go out and make a lot of mistakes Effort Perfection Do it anyway Excuse busters Get to work Trying and doing Hope Planting seeds What's the use if there's no use? The pain of not taking action Get in the game Lots of little steps You'll be tired What are you waiting for? What ARE you waiting for? ------------------ "I want to unfold, I don't want to stay folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie..." ---Rainer Maria Rilke FD 16 Oct 2002 @ 22:04 by quidnovi : Count Down [link] --- Which wire do I cut? --- Red! --- No, wait, Green --- Uh, White? --- Hey!, I am color blind! 17 Oct 2002 @ 12:37 by invictus : Well... Cut the grey one. The answer always lies in the grey area. It'll be a wild ride, no matter what happens. --------------------------------- Hmmm...OK. Let's just say for the sake of argument that out of the three wires (Red, Green and White), you have chosen at random the Red one and are about to cut it. But---new information!---I tell you that the White wire is NOT to be cut---I repeat: we know for a fact that the White wire is a wrong wire to cut. What do you do then? Do you stick to your original choice and cut the red wire anyway, or do you switch to the other wire and cut the Green one instead? [link] Wait! Before you answer take some time and think about it. Make sure and inform yourself about the Three Doors Dilemma problem, run some of the available simulations and also do take a look at the quantum version of the puzzle. FD _____________________ Very interesting. Never heard that one before. The quantum version is a little weird, but I think I get it. And I definitely get the classical one. Anyway, naturally I'll cut the green wire now. Assuming that my intuition to cut the red was completely random, of course. You know, absolutely no precognition or expertise involved in my "random" decision. But since that is the case, definitely switch to the green. Probability is such a harsh mistress. But... if I'm completely color blind, how will I know I'm not switching to the white wire instead? Ok. Here goes. Been nice knowing you. Tell my wife I... *Snip*... 17 Oct 2002 @ 23:14 by koravya : When will tomorrow get here? ? -------- Time will tell? Told, tells? For whom the bell tolls? "Remember! Time is greedy, and never cheats, But wins at every game! It is the law, just as The day does wane; the night does wax; remember! The water-clock bleeds into the abyss." ---Charles Baudelaire, The Clock FD 18 Oct 2002 @ 07:40 by martha : What happened to 50% & Revelation I guess my female brain just doesn't get it. If you have three doors to pick from than you have a 33% chance of getting it right. If you have two doors to pick from you have a 50% chance of getting it right. Now I better go make my morning coffee and clean up all this fuzz. ********************************************* It is rather funny to see all the people mis-understand Revelation. Did it ever occur to anyone that maybe John never wanted it attached to the bible. 18 Oct 2002 @ 09:04 by invictus : May I take a stab at explaining it? No.. Well, I'm going to anyway :). It'll help me understand it better. There are a bunch of ways I could try, but I'm going to go with the most intuitive one to me. So, initially, when you had the three too choose from, there is a 66% chance that your random choice will be wrong. When the nice man comes in and eliminates one of the choices for you, the choice becomes to switch or not to switch. You could decide not to switch, but that would mean that you think you picked the right one in the first place. And there was only a 33% chance of that (versus 66% against). So, it is more likely that you picked the wrong one in the first place. That means you should switch, because you will be wrong in your initial choice 66% of the time. Deciding not to switch means that you are trusting in the 33% chance that you were initially right, when it is much better to switch and assume that you were wrong (true 66% of the time) (assuming you're not precognizant). Now my head feels funny. Y=mx+b? ******************* ******************* That never occurred to me. What else would you like to know? 18 Oct 2002 @ 10:25 by swan : We haven't run out of time yet? ----------- Depends on which wire you cut: - Green? - Red? - White? FD 18 Oct 2002 @ 11:55 by invictus : LOL... LZ Weds *******! Love it. That movie may very well be the final word on existence. ============ "In most of those times, we do not exist; in some, you exist but I do not; in others, I do and you do not; in others still, we both do. In this one, which the favouring hand of chance has dealt me, you have come to my home; in another, when you come through my garden you find me dead; in another, I say these same words, but I am an error, a ghost." ---Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden of Forking Paths Borges believed "in an infinite series of times, in a growing, dizzying net of divergent, convergent and parallel times. This network of times which approached one another, forked, broke off, or were unaware of one another for centuries, embraces all possibilities of time." Borges has told in an interview that when he was a boy, he found an engraving of the seven wonders of the world, one of which portrayed a circular labyrinth. It frightened him and the maze has been one of his recurrent nightmares. Another recurrent image is the mirror, which reflects different identities. The idea for the short story 'Borges y yo' came from the double who was looking at him - the alter ego, the other I. There is a well-known man, who writes his stories, a name in some biographical dictionary, and the real person. "So my life is a point-counterpoint, a kind of fugue, and a falling away - and everything winds up being lost to me, and everything falls into oblivion, or into the hands of the other man." FD ************* Hence the point-counterpoint existence problem. ************* Swan, I don't know where you heard the terrible rumors about LZ drinking. He would NEVER. Not Scotch, anyway. Maybe a little bit of a hangover from the ten-twelve bottles of thought he drank last night. Vintage 1984. ************ Hey Swan... good advice. Maybe backing off on the chicken wings will help LZ find the someone to marry, Pisces or otherwise. ************ Sadly, I'm not privy to the details of LZ's marriage. The guy tells me most things, but when it comes to the business of love, he tends to be a rather secretive fellow. The guy's got issues, I'm tellin' ya... Or, maybe I DO know and it's just very, very classified. Hard to tell these days. 18 Oct 2002 @ 16:20 by martha : I understand & scotch Well I still stand by my 50% arguement but I appreciate you explaining it to me invictus.What if one is intuitive and picked the correct door to begin with? In this logic there is no allowing for right and left brain connection if the correct door is picked by intuition. You see I am trying to live in the exact moment and if there are only two doors to pick from than it's a 50% chance of getting it right. Whether there were three doors a minute before is completely irrelevant to the fact there are only two doors now. Sorry for being contrary. Age I think and the thought of cleaning this evening. Martha@ipickedtherightdoor.com ****************************** On another matter concerning sauteed swan wings. Do you use scotch whiskey at the end like the buffalo wings? ******************************** I hope LZ doesn't have a hangover from too much scotch. Or too much thinking. *************************************** NOw that is an interesting rumor about LZ getting married BS. Wonder who the luck gal is. ********************* Why BS I believe you are on to something. LZ is painting his kitchen. Sounds to me like he is sprucing up the place. Wonder why? 18 Oct 2002 @ 17:00 by quidnovi : Pick a door, any door... You don't have to take anyone's word for it, Martha. And you can actually test your intuition if you feel like it. Nothing like good old empirical research---or some good old "PSY" door picking/peeking/neat-picking/Net-picking ;-) If you feel up to it, just play the game a number of times by switching and by not switching and keep track of the relative frequency of wins with each strategy. (Seems to me like a lot more fun than cleaning.) :-@ 19 Oct 2002 @ 06:47 by invictus : STARS!Be contrary all you like Martha... Makes things interesting :). And yes, like Quidnovi said, run it. Running is believing (in general? No). For all I know, you are a very strong intuitive, so you'll be right. Score one against the odds for us, by all means. We could use all of the odds-beating we can get. I guess that's what we're all trying to do here in the end, isn't it :)? *************************** The tree is in the mail. Could get to you any time, since they're using flying buffaloes to deliver the mail now. Given what you've been doing to the poor buffaloes, I don't think the ODDS are very good. ************************** No he doesn't. *CCG* ************************** Planet X can't get the wings if they're in my tummy. Don't worry; I'll only partake in a moderate amount of excess. And LZ signed a treaty with the French. So I think we're safe. ************************** My sister is a pisces. Rumors being what they are, especially here, we can't blame it on them either. Let's blame it on... TIM-MAY! ************************** Jumping to conclusions is a dangerous exercise when there are so many things to trip over. Who needs a blame game when you've got wings for lunch?>>>>>>>FF to after lunch>>>>> LZ: "I can't play the blame game right now. My tummy hurts from all those wings." ************************** It worked, Martha! Lizard brain has been rendered harmless. In a manner of speaking, anyway. Turns out that his tummy was only hurting BECAUSE we were blaming his tummy for the hurting. Once the tummy realized we didn't blame it any more... lizard brain can sit there and scream all it wants. LZ's tummy knows better. ************************** It's fun to watch stars rise. Especially if you're on top of a mountain, away from the city. If it weren't winter I'd go and... *wedding bells*... sorry, uhh, I've got to go and, uh, paint my kitchen. 19 Oct 2002 @ 07:27 by martha : HM- buffalo wings & a treaty Well at least the downstairs is clean and I can now concentrate on your doors. On my first run through I averaged 33% where I picked the door and stayed with it. On my seceond test I switched everytime when I picked the second door. My 88% score is interesting. Averaged 10 pickes on each trial.On my third trial I averaged around 50% where sometimes I switched and sometimes I didn't. So what this tells me is that due to my contrary nature I should always switch my second guess. ***************************** On another subect entirely concerning buffalo wings. I recently received a gift of a marvelous recipe for yummy buffalo wings. So kind of the chef to share. i will speak to LZ and see if he can send the chef a chocolate covered cherry tree. *************************** well I'm glad the tree is in the mail cause francis probably doesn't have one. Please don't get a tummy ache from all the buffalo wings LZ. You know moderation. In fact planet X might be coming here for the buffalo wings. Thats it!! We will blame planet X on the french. ****************************************** Yes swan on occassion LZ does drink... **************************** Oh thank the lord, another treaty. I didn't really want to blame the french for planet X out of respect for the log meister. I know, lets blame planet X havoc on all the pisces? Too extreme!! That's not fair! Others tell us how to think and what to drive and what to eat. Isn't that the way? ************************************ rumors get started on this thread? Ha ha ************************************** Just cause your sister is a pisces doesn't mean we can't blame planet x havoc on them. Oh all right if you insist. No one should jump to conclusions. Isn't this the point of this entire exercise? ********************************************* I don't blame your tummy for hurting. It is your lizard brain crying out more food more food that is to blame. I think sometimes our inner critic takes over and yells out to the world all the shoulds and should nots enough to drive us all crazy. Oh sorry to get back to your aching tummy - Next time ask lizard mind to take a kinder gentler approach and not jump to the assumption that you need all that food cause you don't know where your next meal is coming from. ****************************************** glad LZ's tummy is fine and that swan knows LZ lives on this log along with HS and BS. All seems quiet on the logs today. Must be in the stars. ********************** Speaking of stars one of ours has returned today. 22 Oct 2002 @ 14:36 by quidnovi : [link] 27 Oct 2002 @ 14:08 by quidnovi : Queen Mab 'Man is of soul and body, formed for deeds Of high resolve; on fancy's boldest wing To soar unwearied, fearlessly to turn The keenest pangs to peacefulness, and taste The joys which mingled sense and spirit yield; Or he is formed for abjectness and woe, To grovel on the dunghill of his fears, To shrink at every sound, to quench the flame Of natural love in sensualism, to know That hour as blest when on his worthless days The frozen hand of death shall set its seal, Yet fear the cure, though hating the disease. The one is man that shall hereafter be; The other, man as vice has made him now. 'War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight, The lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade, And to those royal murderers whose mean thrones Are bought by crimes of treachery and gore, The bread they eat, the staff on which they lean." ( ) 'Then grave and hoary-headed hypocrites, Without a hope, a passion or a love, Who through a life of luxury and lies Have crept by flattery to the seats of power, Support the system whence their honors flow. They have three words--well tyrants know their use, Well pay them for the loan with usury Torn from a bleeding world!--God, Hell and Heaven: A vengeful, pitiless, and almighty fiend, Whose mercy is a nickname for the rage Of tameless tigers hungering for blood; Hell, a red gulf of everlasting fire, Where poisonous and undying worms prolong Eternal misery to those hapless slaves Whose life has been a penance for its crimes; And Heaven, a meed for those who dare belie Their human nature, quake, believe and cringe Before the mockeries of earthly power. ( ) 'Commerce has set the mark of selfishness, The signet of its all-enslaving power, Upon a shining ore, and called it gold; Before whose image bow the vulgar great, The vainly rich, the miserable proud, The mob of peasants, nobles, priests and kings, And with blind feelings reverence the power That grinds them to the dust of misery. But in the temple of their hireling hearts Gold is a living god and rules in scorn All earthly things but virtue. 'Since tyrants by the sale of human life Heap luxuries to their sensualism, and fame To their wide-wasting and insatiate pride, Success has sanctioned to a credulous world The ruin, the disgrace, the woe of war. His hosts of blind and unresisting dupes The despot numbers; from his cabinet These puppets of his schemes he moves at will, Even as the slaves by force or famine driven, Beneath a vulgar master, to perform A task of cold and brutal drudgery;-- Hardened to hope, insensible to fear, Scarce living pulleys of a dead machine, Mere wheels of work and articles of trade, That grace the proud and noisy pomp of wealth! 'The harmony and happiness of man Yields to the wealth of nations; that which lifts His nature to the heaven of its pride, Is bartered for the poison of his soul; The weight that drags to earth his towering hopes, Blighting all prospect but of selfish gain, Withering all passion but of slavish fear, Extinguishing all free and generous love Of enterprise and daring, even the pulse That fancy kindles in the beating heart To mingle with sensation, it destroys,-- Leaves nothing but the sordid lust of self, The grovelling hope of interest and gold, Unqualified, unmingled, unredeemed Even by hypocrisy And statesmen boast Of wealth! The wordy eloquence that lives After the ruin of their hearts, can gild The bitter poison of a nation's woe; Can turn the worship of the servile mob To their corrupt and glaring idol, fame, From virtue, trampled by its iron tread,-- Although its dazzling pedestal be raised Amid the horrors of a limb-strewn field, With desolated dwellings smoking round. The man of ease, who, by his warm fireside, To deeds of charitable intercourse And bare fulfillment of the common laws Of decency and prejudice confines The struggling nature of his human heart, Is duped by their cold sophistry; he sheds A passing tear perchance upon the wreck Of earthly peace, when near his dwelling's door The frightful waves are driven,--when his son Is murdered by the tyrant, or religion Drives his wife raving mad. But the poor man Whose life is misery, and fear and care; Whom the morn wakens but to fruitless toil; Who ever hears his famished offspring's scream; Whom their pale mother's uncomplaining gaze Forever meets, and the proud rich man's eye Flashing command, and the heart-breaking scene Of thousands like himself;--he little heeds The rhetoric of tyranny; his hate Is quenchless as his wrongs; he laughs to scorn The vain and bitter mockery of words, Feeling the horror of the tyrant's deeds, And unrestrained but by the arm of power, That knows and dreads his enmity. 'The iron rod of penury still compels Her wretched slave to bow the knee to wealth, And poison, with unprofitable toil, A life too void of solace to confirm The very chains that bind him to his doom. Nature, impartial in munificence, Has gifted man with all-subduing will. Matter, with all its transitory shapes, Lies subjected and plastic at his feet, That, weak from bondage, tremble as they tread. How many a rustic Milton has passed by, Stifling the speechless longings of his heart, In unremitting drudgery and care! How many a vulgar Cato has compelled His energies, no longer tameless then, To mould a pin or fabricate a nail! How many a Newton, to whose passive ken Those mighty spheres that gem infinity Were only specks of tinsel fixed in heaven To light the midnights of his native town! 'Yet every heart contains perfection's germ. The wisest of the sages of the earth, That ever from the stores of reason drew Science and truth, and virtue's dreadless tone, Were but a weak and inexperienced boy, Proud, sensual, unimpassioned, unimbued With pure desire and universal love, Compared to that high being, of cloudless brain, Untainted passion, elevated will, Which death (who even would linger long in awe Within his noble presence and beneath His changeless eye-beam) might alone subdue. Him, every slave now dragging through the filth Of some corrupted city his sad life, Pining with famine, swoln with luxury, Blunting the keenness of his spiritual sense With narrow schemings and unworthy cares, Or madly rushing through all violent crime To move the deep stagnation of his soul,-- Might imitate and equal. But mean lust Has bound its chains so tight about the earth That all within it but the virtuous man Is venal; gold or fame will surely reach The price prefixed by Selfishness to all But him of resolute and unchanging will; Whom nor the plaudits of a servile crowd, Nor the vile joys of tainting luxury, Can bribe to yield his elevated soul To Tyranny or Falsehood, though they wield With blood-red hand the sceptre of the world. 'All things are sold: the very light of heaven Is venal; earth's unsparing gifts of love, The smallest and most despicable things That lurk in the abysses of the deep, All objects of our life, even life itself, And the poor pittance which the laws allow Of liberty, the fellowship of man, Those duties which his heart of human love Should urge him to perform instinctively, Are bought and sold as in a public mart Of undisguising Selfishness, that sets On each its price, the stamp-mark of her reign. Even love is sold; the solace of all woe Is turned to deadliest agony, old age Shivers in selfish beauty's loathing arms, And youth's corrupted impulses prepare A life of horror from the blighting bane Of commerce; whilst the pestilence that springs From unenjoying sensualism, has filled All human life with hydra-headed woes. 'Falsehood demands but gold to pay the pangs Of outraged conscience; for the slavish priest Sets no great value on his hireling faith; A little passing pomp, some servile souls, Whom cowardice itself might safely chain Or the spare mite of avarice could bribe To deck the triumph of their languid zeal, Can make him minister to tyranny. More daring crime requires a loftier meed. Without a shudder the slave-soldier lends His arm to murderous deeds, and steels his heart, When the dread eloquence of dying men, Low mingling on the lonely field of fame, Assails that nature whose applause he sells For the gross blessings of the patriot mob, For the vile gratitude of heartless kings, And for a cold world's good word,--viler still! 'There is a nobler glory which survives Until our being fades, and, solacing All human care, accompanies its change; Deserts not virtue in the dungeon's gloom, And in the precincts of the palace guides Its footsteps through that labyrinth of crime; Imbues his lineaments with dauntlessness, Even when from power's avenging hand he takes Its sweetest, last and noblest title--death; --The consciousness of good, which neither gold, Nor sordid fame, nor hope of heavenly bliss, Can purchase; but a life of resolute good, Unalterable will, quenchless desire Of universal happiness, the heart That beats with it in unison, the brain Whose ever-wakeful wisdom toils to change Reason's rich stores for its eternal weal. 'This commerce of sincerest virtue needs No meditative signs of selfishness, No jealous intercourse of wretched gain, No balancings of prudence, cold and long; In just and equal measure all is weighed, One scale contains the sum of human weal, And one, the good man's heart. How vainly seek The selfish for that happiness denied To aught but virtue! Blind and hardened, they, Who hope for peace amid the storms of care, Who covet power they know not how to use, And sigh for pleasure they refuse to give,-- Madly they frustrate still their own designs; And, where they hope that quiet to enjoy Which virtue pictures, bitterness of soul, Pining regrets, and vain repentances, Disease, disgust and lassitude pervade Their valueless and miserable lives. 'But hoary-headed selfishness has felt Its death-blow and is tottering to the grave; A brighter morn awaits the human day, When every transfer of earth's natural gifts Shall be a commerce of good words and works; When poverty and wealth, the thirst of fame, The fear of infamy, disease and woe, War with its million horrors, and fierce hell, Shall live but in the memory of time, Who, like a penitent libertine, shall start, Look back, and shudder at his younger years.' ---Percy Bysshe Shelley, Queen Mab 28 Oct 2002 @ 22:16 by koravya : As a teacher, leading my students into the myriad pathways of writing coherent sentences and ideas in standard English prose, and hearing them tell me who they are in their ten weeks of stories and essays in variations of the English language, I become a translator for each of these complex networks of symbolic relationships, each variation unique in its coherent web of meanings, each of them, to the writer, a representation of an idea to be communicated. Each of them, including myself, "a rustic Milton . . . stifling the speechless longings of his heart, in unremitting drudgery and care!" And then, there is Hope. Other entries in 0 14 May 2003 @ 13:07: SIGNS OF LIFE - 3 : Consider this... 14 May 2003 @ 11:48: SIGNS OF LIFE - 2 : Every whisper... 31 Oct 2002 @ 16:09: Samhain 27 Oct 2002 @ 19:02: Dreams come alive on a bed of whimsy
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7 Oct 2002 @ 16:53, by Quidnovi
