From Day Dreams of a Spaced Out old Man comes

[Deleted54170User]

 

 

Ah ... ZZ ... right up there near the top for me too. It's not unusual for the chorus to go through my head when getting ready to head out for something that calls for more than the usual jeans and a Tshirt.

 

I don't how you do it Paga, but you have this ability to strum chords in my head that resonate in the most delicious ways. Perhaps it was the harmonic set up by the references to your EWU days that got me onto ...

 

Last year of high school I was a rather trippy kinda' guy. Nucleus (which later became Foot in Coldwater) played at the last high school dance I attended ... I was completely blown away (which wasn't a very long distance from the point I was at during the event ... I'd had plenty of "help" that evening). Paul Naumann on guitar had this way of standing completely still facing to the left or right of the audience during solos, and the sound ... well the sound electrified my synapses in ways that even those around me could tell was way beyond the borders of King City.

 

All came washing back over me while watching the Kenny Rogers show version of the song (you can see it on the screen briefly in the Sound Academy clip). Once again thank you Paga, you are a master.

 

- Edit - Mistake on my part ... back when I saw Nucleus it was John Richardson on guitar.

 

 

I am the only chrissianed beta blocker in my own universe. I find the nerve that streams out of the Satellite in the Sky and it sends me. Siriously - SiriousXM

 

I don't listen to music, I decipher the words because they all tend to lean back to the class I took during a Summer Course. Philosophy 101.

 

After the professor picked me to see if I could answer his first question for the class he dropped the Summer course left a note on his room door. Class Cancelled, Gone Fishing.

 

He asked what us students opinions of the work he made 30 copies on 3000 sheets of expensive campus college paper from the book he REALLY ACTUALLY chose for us to begin our studies. He chose a book that was ACTUALLY REALLY the only one available on Earth at the time in the colleges campus library. So he had no choice but to make thousands of paper pages copies of each page he wanted all of us to read.

 

I ACTUALLY REALLY said, "The discussions between the two philosophers in the campus arena where they held live debates for the students. Aristotle and his favorite student at the time. The words the now, dead, the two FAMOUS PHILOSOPHERS shared in front of all the neophytes they had at the time in Rome, reminded me of all words spoken by the actors and actresses, ( at a time long before Oprah had the person playing the bartender Guinan from Star Trek, (Whoopie Goldberg) in the Bar) made it so everyone is called an Actor,) "the television soap operas I was forced to watch while I was in hospital bed in a room for two, hospital room next to a patient who watched all of them soap operas religiously forcing me to think outside the fence, from Bubba's 12 gauge corral fence, fenced school course on cow tipping".

 

I have never been the same since and can only try, that is "TRY", to imagine what cords your mind can be tuned to. Although, I'm almost definitely sure I was thinking about my last Groupie Girlfriend who wouldn't leave me alone, until I found out she was married to a student in the Psychology 101 class I took to find out if I wanted to study that stuffed shirt and long tie lifestyle, after I completed Anthropology 101 for the same reason. And found out she was using me to help her hubby write a paper for his Psychology final paper.

 

She was disappointed when she found out I knew she wasn't a groupie like the 22 other girls lined up outside my dorm room from each of the 101 classes I studied to find out which of the smart girls in those classes would be the girl for me. When Half Brain Bombshell Blond walked in and asked me, Is this what you want? I knew. I was always going to be a PROFESSIONAL STUDENT.

 

Just send the check for Two thousand mackerels to the Jar Head they called Dave, who was on fire watch while Doctor Hook and the Medicine Show were on stage in the oldest building on campus that would have burned flat to the ground, in ACTUALLY REALLY WOULD if it caught on fire 15 minutes or less and would have incinerated everyone inside if we didn't stop them from lighting up, (just a minute please. I didn't have to take a hit off anything because the basketball room they used for the concert was full of smoke. I was trying to keep the last gasp of fresh air I got in. I could hold my breath for 5 minutes. Wait while I hold my hit of Fresh air in for a minute) so the place did not burn down.

 

Your friend and probably soaked it up through my pores, High Up in the Sky HOPE, pal,

 

Pagan Fire

 

Paga Fyre

 

Pagafyr

[Striker879]

 

 

 

Ah ... ZZ ... right up there near the top for me too. It's not unusual for the chorus to go through my head when getting ready to head out for something that calls for more than the usual jeans and a Tshirt.

 

I don't how you do it Paga, but you have this ability to strum chords in my head that resonate in the most delicious ways. Perhaps it was the harmonic set up by the references to your EWU days that got me onto ...

 

 

Last year of high school I was a rather trippy kinda' guy. Nucleus (which later became Foot in Coldwater) played at the last high school dance I attended ... I was completely blown away (which wasn't a very long distance from the point I was at during the event ... I'd had plenty of "help" that evening). Paul Naumann on guitar had this way of standing completely still facing to the left or right of the audience during solos, and the sound ... well the sound electrified my synapses in ways that even those around me could tell was way beyond the borders of King City.

 

All came washing back over me while watching the Kenny Rogers show version of the song (you can see it on the screen briefly in the Sound Academy clip). Once again thank you Paga, you are a master.

 

- Edit - Mistake on my part ... back when I saw Nucleus it was John Richardson on guitar.

 

 

I am the only chrissianed beta blocker in my own universe. I find the nerve that streams out of the Satellite in the Sky and it sends me. Siriously - SiriousXM

 

I don't listen to music, I decipher the words because they all tend to lean back to the class I took during a Summer Course. Philosophy 101.

 

After the professor picked me to see if I could answer his first question for the class he dropped the Summer course left a note on his room door. Class Cancelled, Gone Fishing.

 

He asked what us students opinions of the work he made 30 copies on 3000 sheets of expensive campus college paper from the book he REALLY ACTUALLY chose for us to begin our studies. He chose a book that was ACTUALLY REALLY the only one available on Earth at the time in the colleges campus library. So he had no choice but to make thousands of paper pages copies of each page he wanted all of us to read.

 

I ACTUALLY REALLY said, "The discussions between the two philosophers in the campus arena where they held live debates for the students. Aristotle and his favorite student at the time. The words the now, dead, the two FAMOUS PHILOSOPHERS shared in front of all the neophytes they had at the time in Rome, reminded me of all words spoken by the actors and actresses, ( at a time long before Oprah had the person playing the bartender Guinan from Star Trek, (Whoopie Goldberg) in the Bar) made it so everyone is called an Actor,) "the television soap operas I was forced to watch while I was in hospital bed in a room for two, hospital room next to a patient who watched all of them soap operas religiously forcing me to think outside the fence, from Bubba's 12 gauge corral fence, fenced school course on cow tipping".

 

I have never been the same since and can only try, that is "TRY", to imagine what cords your mind can be tuned to. Although, I'm almost definitely sure I was thinking about my last Groupie Girlfriend who wouldn't leave me alone, until I found out she was married to a student in the Psychology 101 class I took to find out if I wanted to study that stuffed shirt and long tie lifestyle, after I completed Anthropology 101 for the same reason. And found out she was using me to help her hubby write a paper for his Psychology final paper.

 

She was disappointed when she found out I knew she wasn't a groupie like the 22 other girls lined up outside my dorm room from each of the 101 classes I studied to find out which of the smart girls in those classes would be the girl for me. When Half Brain Bombshell Blond walked in and asked me, Is this what you want? I knew. I was always going to be a PROFESSIONAL STUDENT.

 

Just send the check for Two thousand mackerels to the Jar Head they called Dave, who was on fire watch while Doctor Hook and the Medicine Show were on stage in the oldest building on campus that would have burned flat to the ground, in ACTUALLY REALLY WOULD if it caught on fire 15 minutes or less and would have incinerated everyone inside if we didn't stop them from lighting up, (just a minute please. I didn't have to take a hit off anything because the basketball room they used for the concert was full of smoke. I was trying to keep the last gasp of fresh air I got in. I could hold my breath for 5 minutes. Wait while I hold my hit of Fresh air in for a minute) so the place did not burn down.

 

Your friend and probably soaked it up through my pores, High Up in the Sky HOPE, pal,

 

Pagan Fire

 

Paga Fyre

 

Pagafyr

 

 

Professional student ... kinda' brings things back full circle to Money For Nothin' and Your Chicks For Free doesn't it. In hindsight (20/20) it would have been my dream job too, but alas my myopia wouldn't allow me to see that far down the road. No sour grapes though as I truly am a Life's Been Good to Me So Far kinda' guy.

 

Through the magic of YouTube I was able to listen to some songs by Nucleus and I learned something. Eyewear is not required to fully achieve the fabled Rose Coloured Glasses effect ... apparently there is a virtual version available. It's either that or the "flashbacks" effect isn't nearly strong enough to overcome the ravages of time.

 

Considering that I'd be lucky to hold my breath for much more than a minute I'll keep my extinguisher handy Paga ... thanks for the heads up.

[Deleted54170User]

I have two fire extinguishers. One by the computer gear that has a blast of powder that snuffs out the fire and doesn't harm electronics, and one for those old fashion tax collectors from the Hagar the Horrible, comic strip. A bucket from under the chair with a hole in it in the corner full of bodily evacuations. Here is it IRS, but I already ate it. Enjoy!

[Deleted54170User]

Am I a Greek?

 

Just sitting here warming myself by the fire. The friends bringing in wood to keep it burning stop awhile. Chat with each other. I keep the fire from dying out before they begin again. Never letting the goals completely die out. The last of my kind, the first of my kind. The men sleep until dawn and at dawn I am relieved for a few hours. They bring in more wood, they bring in the grub in time for midday too. Then the last supper I rise to share I am there while they rest the night.

 

Hades lingers on the throne, his Mother-in-law restored Spring flowers and fruits, berries, and all, while Persephone shares in the duties while their daughters keep their fires light too.

 

The shelter first knew had no women. A sad affair of the Gods. They created us fully capable of planting our seed, but they lost the recipe for the female. Working as fast as they could, a thousand years later, one of the Gods succeeded and with one man she became pregnant. All I do is make sure the fire never dies.

 

Put it out, put out the daughters pyre as well, end every reddish white glowing goals flickering heated life, and all your troubles will be over. You'll have to kill Hades and Persephones Mother foo. For they keep the seasons now, since Persephone's mother finally realized her daughter truly loved Hade's and he loved Persephone too. The war blinds those who seek the flames of their lost life warming them, keeping them cozy, and making it so they could do work for the benefit of all.

 

Back to the fire I turn. The sky still is burning with light pouring down on my tiny speck of human kindness to warm ourselfs by it's side. The blast furnace we cannot extinguish is high in the West now. But even here, near the middle of nowhere in Montana, protestors are showing their signs describing their pains which get too hot when they near the fire. Too hot that if they could return to the good distance they had once, now the dried scars would begin to get sore and burning pain would drive them back into the cool evening shadows. Cold and alone.

 

The Devils Kitchen is closed now. The Sun's path is still over Earth spinning around; dark on one side, light on the other. I sit at the fire in the middle of day and night, as it dies a I move to the warmth. When it's death is near I place damp and dried grass on top so the goals keep their heat long enough for the mornings kindling I put on top to get a new start. The cool evening air at my back while I tend it, the warmth slowly rising as I gather bigger sticks. Face in, face out, until the fire grows again with logs that will suffice for all to light their wands and carry them home to light their cooking fires.

 

Who am I? I am the one man that is assigned to keep the fires of Hades lit. While the daughters of the first woman have one priestest that makes sure the virgin keeps their fire going on forever, just the same as I keep minding the one I am assigned to.

 

Breath out the flames you tender, sparks flying from embers, some I have to brush away, some I have to press a sole down upon, and the water bucket takes care of the last that strays. Good Night to you, which ever fire you get your house's cooking fires lighted from.

 

I must be because I find my soul travels to the places Greeks are best known for.

 

Well? It's debatable, because, unlike people who think we have a soul I think I am a soul and for a time I have a body. We all may know what happens to a body if we don't take good care of it.

 

I am a soul so maybe I am more of a Tibetan? These days I understand what their scientists wrote about souls? At this moment I wonder if I can do anything for the body I have to assure myself it will last a long time?

[Deleted54170User]

Anymore most everyone I find on the Internet that made a mod for games I have, they're doing such a good job at modding I always find what a great mod they made so I never even get started on a mod. I used to get all mental when a games quest storyline ended abruptly with no sensible conclusion. Instead of complaining I learned to mod and made the mod for my game.

 

Like the one I started to transform ghouls back to healthy soft skins with a teleportation machine they walk into and when it finished they had all their skin back on. I wrote all my plan steps for crafting it down. When I finished writing the dialog I was so tired I fell asleep. I had some real life stuff I had to do and never got started with the construction kit and Fallout 4 arrived. I was using the game sort of liked strolling around Boston, Salem, and such virtually to see where I might actually want to visit. Like a planner for a vacation.

[Deleted54170User]

I haven't been day dreaming as much since I got No Man's Sky. Too busy learning interesting stuff I could be doing if I was much younger and had known that what I was doing for fun I could have been getting paid. Oh, I am lucky to have lived so long and am still mentally spry.

[Deleted54170User]

Today's lesson is a quest to find the answer to a question. That is, "Is a man older than dirt?"

To begin we must discover where dirt came from.

A large rock maybe?

A rock that was in a place that gave a man a reason to test it?

The man may have pushed and shoved on a boulder for an unknown reason? Could have been on the land near where the man resided during those times when the man needed shelter? It could have been before man began to build; and still lived in a cave?

The man may have tried to push a boulder to get it out of their way along a path or maybe because it fell in front of the cave entrance? Thereby making it a nuisance making it difficult to get in or out of the cave.

Trying to push it out of the way with his body was probably very tiring? As he did push and shove it is likely that some of the boulder rubbed off into small little rocks? He may have had to shove and push so many times before the boulder would even budge that there began to be a pile of small little rocks he barely noticed until he was ankle deep in them?

Days and even weeks may have gone by. He and the rest of his cave dwelling family may have been squeezing out of the cave between the boulder and the cave entrance each day. Then it is likly that caused more little tiny rocks to pile up around the boulder outside their cave?

One day the boulder may have been small enough to get around it with ease, and on another day the man may have gotten it to move an inch or two. That was likely long before man used measuring tools so he wouldn't have known for sure how far the boulder moved. Of course shoving and pushing on the boulder could have reduced it in size over a year or two. So it was moved an inch, or so, at a time until one day it was so small it rolled off a few feet and stopped.

The many shoves and pushes from him; billions of times a year, may have made his body wear out, get to looking older. His body may have had the physique of a teen age child when he started, but after all the shoving and pushing his body became bigger from muscle mass added from pushing and trying to shove the stone. That then added more wear and tear on his great physique so that the muscles shrank, the skin wrinkled and resembled the wrinkles and scars the boulder had all over it too.

Thus the man appeared to the others as older then. His hair may have gone white too.

During the years after he started trying to move the boulder, a while, he may have discovered that the small little rocks could be used to grow plants in. Or maybe the eldest woman in the cave discovered that? The indoor planter may have evolved just because of that pile of small little rocks by the cave entrance?

Later the wrinkles from a billion shoves and pushes many years later the old man may have been trying to get more small little rocks off the boulder to add to the plant growing pile? This may have made for poking at the boulder with a stick or hitting it with a branch big enough to loosen more small little rocks until the boulder was a smaller? One day the man may have decided to push the smaller boulder away from the door and it may have rolled a few feet and stopped?

This making it a curious event which became a fun pass time pushing and watching the smaller boulder roll for a few feet.

I imagine our quest to find the answer to our question, Is a man older than dirt? That our research brings to light that dirt is a smaller little rock and is probably as old as the rock it was loosened from. The bigger question is, How old is the rock that remains from all the grinding from pushing, shoving, and sliding between it, poking it with a stick, beating on it with a tree branch, all the while it was a big rock blocking the cave entrance?

Well, we'll likely never really know the answer to the questions that crossed the mans mind. But while the man became wrinkled and scarred more than the rest of the cave dwellers they may have considered him special? They may have honored him for being different? A new word may have arose? They didn't likely have a dictionary? The members of the cave dwelling may have called him... hm... Wise!

For years he may have been rewarded with special treats and honorariums as the father of small little rocks called dirt? Which we can now buy packaged so we can bring it to our yards and use it to grow plants in planters.

While we may not yet have considered that the man may well have been the creator of the wheel too? Which gave us the wheels to bring the packaged smaller little rocks in bags home.

We may never know if a man is older than dirt. Dirt that came from the rock that partially blocked the cave entrance that led to making doors for caves by rolling a boulder back and forth in front of it, also dirt, and the first known unnamed rolling thing. Later called the Wheel.

The cave man's fammily name may have been "wheel" thus giving the small little rocks in bags of dirt, moving doors, and rolling stones their name? So it may be more likely that the man became known as the elder, eldest, and maker of dirt?

'Old' might have been a new word that came about because the saying that some people refer to when they tire of doing something or paying attention to someone who is boring them, or got tired of rolling the boulder around for entertainment? It's getting old.

In conclusion we may say, that a man is older then dirt. Just the one. All the rest of the cave dwellers still look like a bunch of young teen age children. Accept for their Mother. She may have a few wrinkles that the old man helped her gain, having had sll those children when he wasn't trying to shove and push that boulder, he may have had some fun with her shoving and pushing against each other? They may have made up a game called, "Rock and Roll". Which may have been banned after their cave got a bit too crowded?

Thus a couple of guys may have discovered that making noise in a certain way got the others in the cave excited in a fun way? Probably to encourage the others to encourage the eldest man to shove and push on the boulder blocking the door more often? Instead of on their Mother?

[Striker879]

 

Today's lesson is a quest to find the answer to a question. That is, "Is a man older than dirt?"

 

 

Hey mister ... I'l have you know I resemble that remark!!

 

OK this is from another of my "grandpa-isms" with the grandkids:

"Back when the Earth was coalescing from the primorial dust cloud ... when I was just a young lad"

 

Another hypothesis for the origins of dirt ... maybe it's always been there. The remnants of that primorial dust cloud are still with us. We see it as zodical light under dark skies during the shoulder seasons, and as shooting stars when one of them pesky little dust grains forgets to get out our busy planets's path (and what's left of them slowly drifts earthward to settle somewhere on land or sea ... tons of the stuff each year).

 

But on to the important question ... just what the heck is dirt??

 

Pretty certain it's not just our good old primordial dust, at least not primordial dust alone.

 

One of the clues to that comes from the moon of all places. Back when we were ambitious enough to send some guys up there they collected a whole bunch of stuff to bring back for show and tell. Mostly rocks (though none on your "Paga" scale rocks ... the "station wagon" used for this road trip was more Vdub Bug sized). Bags and bags of rocks, and one other thing ... dust.

 

Sure they collected some dust on purpose, 'cause some guys with pocket protectors back home said "Hey, see if you can bring me back some dust" or something. That wasn't the problem. It was all the dust they tracked into the "bus" on their boots (I mean what's so hard about giving your feet a stamp or two before you get in ... did they forget to bring a doormat??). Not a really big deal while you keep your spacesuit buttoned up tight, but it becomes a big deal when you take that suit off.

 

Apparently human lungs evolved after primordial dust and the two don't mix very well.

 

So back to the question, what is dirt? Fairly early (when using the million year scale ruler, not that measuring tape you picked up at Canadian Tire last time you were there) our fair planet (which still wasn't all that fair by the way) was home to more than just dust and rocks (even Paga sized and bigger). Sometrhing we refer to as "life" today (though most of you wouldn't trade yours for the "life" these had to offer I'd wager). Pretty simple to start, a few amino acids tangled up in such a way that one could churn out copies (sort of a Kinkos thing, only there weren't any "stores" per se ... one theory is that hydrothermal undersea vents was the closest thing they could come to a brick and mortar establishment back then).

 

As long as you are using that ruler I suggested and not the one from Crappy Tire it didn't take too long before things changed ... a lot (and also not at all).

 

While some of that "life" got busy getting big and complicated there were those who just went "meh" and stayed pretty close to they way they'd always been. Soon they were no longer part of the "big party" (because they weren't big maybe??) and the big ones lost sight of them ... for a long time (OK now, put away the measly million year ruler for now, we need the billion year one for this next part). That didn't mean they were just sitting there twiddling their metaphorical thumbs (which of course they didn't have because they were all of one cell, no more no less).

 

They found jobs!!

 

Remember that dust we started out with?? Well some of these little guys got their little teeth into that dust and went "Hey ... this stuff is pretty tasty". And what happens to you when you've had a nice big tasy meal? Yup, same thing I'm always telling the grandkids ... "If you don't eat you won't poop, and if you don't poop you'll die!!".

 

And as is always the way, ones man's junk is another man's gold mine, so before long the poop mining crowd got on the bandwagon and a whole ecosystem evolved. The "big" crowd had no idea what was happening under their feet, but some of them decided to turn the plants that had joined the "dust eating/dust eater's poop" party into food, and then of course some wise guy chomped on the plant eater and yup, here we are, one big party hurtling through space.

 

Today we just call it dirt, but you may now have some notion there's a bit more to it than meets the eye.

 

And for the record:

Miss on the first part ... my Mom loved to dance.

Hit on the second part ... mostly I heard them calling it "swing" and "boogying" and "jive" and stuff like that, and my step Dad was right into it.

 

- Edit - And another thing ... my ancestor from 50,000 years ago (you know, the guy who's drinking implement I'm still using today) say's he resembles that other remark of yours ... the rock moving/ressigning stuff. Just so you know that we know who's spreading these tales.

 

And don't forget to stamp your feet before coming in ... that dust is still falling from the sky. Chicken Little was only a little bit off the mark, it's just part of the sky that's falling.

 

- Edit last - Man I sure have the technology for spelling mistakes and weird incomplete sentences ... no wonder I try to stick to "one word" (for me a paragraph or two (or three) is "one word") posts!!

 

- Edit real actual last - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=37XEw3FDEwg

 

I fondly remember The Taste Of Honey, but what I've always looked forward to is the promised "Other Delights" once you made it through all that whipped cream!!

Edited July 19, 2020 by Striker879

[Deleted54170User]

Since we didn't have a long list of words body language was our way of communications. Thus when the striker family climbed up to our space upon the top of what we fondly spread our arms wide as though to give the cave and all that surrounded it a hug, our body language meaning 'home', they repeatedly called it something they mounted.

 

While our young were playing on our barren rock of fine ground dirt shoving and pushing each other around the striker family kept calling it 'resting'. We tried to make friends by gentle nudges and gentle shoves, the striker families body language showed us they were angry.

 

We've been looking for a new rock as far away from them ever since.

[Striker879]

Since we didn't have a long list of words body language was our way of communications. Thus when the striker family climbed up to our space upon the top of what we fondly spread our arms wide as though to give the cave and all that surrounded it a hug, our body language meaning 'home', they repeatedly called it something they mounted.

 

While our young were playing on our barren rock of fine ground dirt shoving and pushing each other around the striker family kept calling it 'resting'. We tried to make friends by gentle nudges and gentle shoves, the striker families body language showed us they were angry.

 

We've been looking for a new rock as far away from them ever since.

 

Striker points at Paga, points to himself, raises his shoulders, and arms raised slightly to the side tilts his head to one side.

 

Buddy, I liked your story ... chuckled in the chuckly parts, honest.

 

No need to be all distant and stuff, just 'cause we got these pointy sticks in our hands and stuff. It's just so we don't "lose 'em", you know like if we "put them down" or something (and heaven forbid you happen to step in front of one at the wrong time ... that would be real bad luck, or timing, or something).

 

Still friends then?? :laugh: