[NetBehaviour] The Story

james at jwm-art.net james at jwm-art.net
Fri May 19 00:19:25 CEST 2006

I imagine it's a really nice sunny day, with a gentle breeze to keep him
from getting too hot on his boat. And of course, not a perfectly
cloudless sky, one or two just here, and maybe just there.

But down here in kent, england, in the evening, for a factory worker
(sorry don't mean to go on about it) sweating it out on his bike riding
up and down hills, on and off roads, there are many clouds. some grey,
some pink or yellow or orange from the sun low in the sky.

And this morning before my alarm awoke me at five, I dreamt of a little
irritating young man who aggrevated me no end. I chucked him against
walls slamming his head and back hard against them trying to get him off
and away from me the little blighter. He shrunk some until less than two
feet tall, but clung on tighter still to my hand and wrist, with his
tiny bony claw like little hands digging in between my bones.  I shook
him around violently, all the while shouting and swearing at each other
- "you little bastard, get the fuck off me!!" "nwha nwha han hwn
hgwhwhj hej eje ekekeker kt rjt rjer wrk wer r rjerw jr!!!!!" and woke

I would like to extol the virtues of being in the countryside but cannot
find a way to express this satisfactorly, especially to those strange
alien beings who live in towns and cities and listen to gnarls barkely.
The end.

The Earl Of Sto****uth.

On 13/5/2006, "Alan Sondheim" <sondheim at panix.com> wrote:

>The Story
>I drive a 2005 Jaguar S Type. Taking home 6 digit level in 18 months.
>Having a great time. It's a blast and I am a hero to the courts and to my
>clients. What an outstanding career to be in. I know God is on my side. At
>night I pray for my good fortune. I wonder how many will believe me, or
>how many will just find this "literature." I hate literature with a
>passion; it is not the force that drives this mighty civilization. Doing
>exactly what God tells me to do is working beautifully. I go to the court
>and locate all of the clients I can handle. Some say this is a court "of
>last resort." I say this is the difference between Law and Justice,
>between reason and the vigilante. For I mete out Justice which some find
>Law. I find all assets and employment. Funds arrive to my PO Box. It's
>like magic. I love it. I can take a holiday when ever I have a whim to do
>so. Hawaii and a 1050 footer to the Panama Canal this year. Yes, God has
>been good to me; my boat is one fifth of a mile long, less 30 feet. It is
>a wonderful length and I walk it during my meditation. For I do question
>the mathematics of this world, and my Jaguar and 1200 foot boat do not
>distract from my ultimate goal of solving this world's problem, while
>retaining an absent ontology which some may well considered entitled to
>the name of "Absolute." Here is what I have dreamed, closing the great
>chasm that lies between us:
>"Thereupon I descended until, as the ocean's surface came nearer and near-
>er, I discovered a tiny island lying almost directly underneath me. It was
>hardly big enough to make a dot on the biggest map, but a clump of trees
>grew in the central portion, while around the edges were jagged rocks
>protecting a sandy beach and a stretch of flower-strewn upland leading to
>the trees."
>Now it is clear that the island is that of mathematics, and the central
>portion is the refuge of axiomatics. I am certain as well that the clump
>of trees is the effusion of postulates necessary to remind us of our
>finitude in the grasp of idealities. Moreso, the jagged rocks are those of
>chaos and catastrophe theories forced from smooth manifolds, just as the
>flower-strewn upland references the set of those cellular automata whose
>patterning is inherently irregular.
>My house is filled with the latest plasma, RFID, and wireless technolo-
>gies, yet I do not seem happy, not even when I have completed mergers,
>foreclosures, or buyouts. I cannot reasonably deny that a central core, if
>such there be, is missing from my life. But when I close my eyes, or ride
>at high-speed in my Jaguar S, Something tells me it has all been worth it.
>My only question is: What, or who, is that Something? Where is happiness?
>When is joy?
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