Here lies Martes Flavigula, eternally beneath the splintered earth.

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Blog -

Tue, 27 Apr, 1999 04.00 UTC

*Black* is in my head, annoying my restless neurons with how it relates to my situation. The craziness of last night haunts me like a receeding dream at which I try to clutch but recall only snatches that blur even further into grew forgetfulness. Another person with whom I was very close is gone and no amount of insolent kicking of my legs or wailing like a forsaken ghoul into the night will make her come back. Two weeks ago today I told her *goodbye* and two days prior to now she said she cannot return t...

Mon, 25 Jan, 1999 00.00 UTC

Now I shall attempt to gleefully continue my work on James's project, hopefully in a successful manner. Hawkwind spills out of the speakers and I am reminded of the particularly lengthy day during which I completed most all of the tournament management tool and left an imprint of the event in this elaborative mishmash of words. My mind is also on Magdalena, with whom I spent the majority of yesterday. I wonder if she will keep her resolve to leave Daryl. I hope. Why? Well, because I want her to be hap...

Wed, 20 Jan, 1999 00.00 UTC

Well, quite a bit has changed since the last entry of "elaborations". I shall probably fortunately not go into details, however. Morrissey croons above my head and struggles to raise my eyelids from their half-closed position, mostly unsuccessfully. My fingers are having quite a bit of trouble efficiently hitting the correct keys to form these tenuous words. No explanations necessary, I suppose. Mother I can feel the soil falling over my head. I must work on the software for James, the lines of broken...

Thu, 23 Jul, 1998 00.00 UTC

What an amusing thing that i am doing at this moment! I am making a tape for Julie VanLoh, whom I have not seen nor heard from since October of 1996. I was the one who did not keep up the contact, however, and I am quite regretful of that. The one day we spent together meandering about Anchorage trying to find a church to attend stamped some sort of indelible impression on my mind. It keeps recurring in my dreams. Strange. What does her eidolon mean to me? "Tea for One" pours into my wax-laden ear so...

Tue, 19 Mar, 1996 00.00 UTC

The Principle of Sufficient Reason states (quite matter of factly) that there must be an explanation for: - the existence of any being. - any positive fact. A very spiffy point that Melanie made in her philosophy paper that I have just received via the ubiquitous postal service is that this principle is silly in that the first part generalizes out to the second. That is, the actual existence of a 'being' is, in fact (no pun intended), a 'positive fact'. Perhaps they (it's those 'they' again), when idea...

Wed, 02 Nov, 1994 00.00 UTC

I press my face against the glass of my unbelief, the foggy pane clears and I see lucid emotions, wheeling wearily through my mind. Have I lost all sense of who I have been? Have these things that have tortured and rent my spirit been subdued, leaving me bored with my contentment? Have I slacked off in my writing? Yes! (Marcie's Birthday -- XVI). Psalms 23. (NIV) > The lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. The Lord God has built a fence, a fence of barbs and electrons, tearing and electrocuting ...

Mon, 31 Oct, 1994 00.00 UTC

Frustration -- pounding my brain with its painful pickaxe, driving all rationality form my head. I can't think! I cannot think! Try as I might, I am feeble. The shadows creep quickly over my eyes, blurring my sight and smothering my mind. Fuzzy images of clearer thoughts dance just within reach. I grapple with them to try to untangle the weave that squeezes tighter and tighter onto my brow. Limping, I grunt unintelligible, ugly remarks at passers-by, blinking at my arrogance, lost in their opulence. Memoriz...

Wed, 26 Oct, 1994 00.00 UTC

Thoughts on "self-preservation": Many human "goals" can be stretched, expounded on, then compressed back to the concept called 'self-preservation'. Is this extremely simple yet powerful instinctive sense an integral part of most everything we do? Jayson provides a few excellent examples, though I shall not elaborate exquisitely upon them. Simply: the avoidance of large, hairy beasts with sharp claws and pointed teeth. I suppose this may be a purer, unadulterated... or better yet, non-camouflaged instance ...

Tue, 25 Oct, 1994 00.00 UTC

I eagerly grasp at my intention to slip from productive pursuits to lethargy with hands that mean to strangle... I'm grappling with my will to get back to writing from the more alluring computer work that has filled my day. I sit pretentiously in Linear Algebra class filling this page with rhetorical dribble. I'll pass an integral form of my psyche onto my surroundings just right after my left armpit develops the ability to, at will, create a different recipe for tapioka pudding thrice an hour. At least I h...

Mon, 24 Oct, 1994 00.00 UTC

A few thoughts on "meaning". Inspired by GEB. There seem to be three levels in the search for meaning in any particular object: - the realization that there is, in fact, meaning there to be found. - the ideas, conceptions, thoughts and notions that allow the actual decoding of the message inherent to the object. - the actual message. These three "levels" are found in all types of "decipherings" throughout life, whether one realizes it or not. Suppose a steel box violently crashes through the roof of you...

Sun, 23 Oct, 1994 23.01 UTC

Carrying on in the previous vein: I just tangled in conversation with this idea, so I shall write it, no matter its relative wackiness. Say knowledge, in a way, is passed genetically, but not the knowledge itself, but only, as i mentioned on the last page, the ability to learn types of knowledge. Use types in the way a common university uses the word to divide knowledge: Chemistry, Physics, English, Photography, etc. A single mutation that slightly alters a few atoms gives or takes the ability (or increase...

Along with martens, goulish goats and the rippling fen -
these writings 1993-2022 by Bob Murry Shelton are licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

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