Tag Archives: 561 WORDS

00480404

And so we begin at the end, 561 steps from. Walking down, we’ve returned to the ONE but with nowhere to go but back up.

“NEXT!”

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00480403 (where do *we* end?)

And so the real world smacks us in the face, the ear, turning it blue. I said it’s a lobe cyst and the doctor said I could have it drained or just — his recommendation — leave as is. It still itches. The man before me doing the metaphorical slapping seemed a nice enough fellow otherwise in an odd way, but maybe an odd good way? Intelligent for sure, but does he having a beating heart, a true conscience? He *couldn’t see the pond*. I’ve been studying his choice of profession this morning a bit, what I can understand of it. Works to streamline the health care billing system which drives down payments on both patient and provider sides. What a mess this country is in. Would his business suffer if we, as a whole, moved into some kind of universal health care model following all other 1st world, high income countries, simplifying the process? Probably — unless this potential change is baked into its plan. I try to put myself in his shoes, see affordable health care for all while keeping the business side solvent as an attainable goal and not a pipe dream some make it out to be. Socialism — worse: communism. Do the majority of people in his business see it this way? Or is this just a pure capitalist, profit making affair? I don’t know. Again: the mess. Nothing is pure capitalism, nothing is pure socialism. Neither can work alone. That’s why we have government bailouts at the inevitable recessions, and so on. But I’m not a businessman. I think it starts at the top and works downward. If businesses are to be treated like individuals then they, too, must find their heart, the conscience — the caring for the others and, turning to actual individuals again running the businesses, not just some immediate family situation; preserving the bloodline. Taking care of those who are like you and have chosen similar paths in life and are doing well in the current, top bloated economic situation. Trickle Down doesn’t work without checks and balances to power-grabbing. You can’t keep giving people at the pyramid peak all the breaks, the piled-up advantages.

My whole way of life has been upended — NOT. I’m in excellent health for my age. I can walk up and down and sideways on hills with no problems now, unlike this past winter with the hip issue. I can go go go and I’m taking advantage of it. But… has it finally caught up with me, this boundary stretching lifestyle of mine? I have problems with them. That’s why this blog has been labeled purely educational and out of the profit loop. We have pensions and other retirement incomes, especially when we’re both past 66 and ss fully kicks in, which will happen soon. We’ll be okay. I’m thinking more of others. I pity the younger folk of not only this country but of the world. I’m bouncing around, I know.

Boundaries — I want a world where ALL generated societal information is free and open to use. Creativity ultimately lies in the psyche of the collective and not the individual working within it utilizing smaller goals. We are all standing on the shoulders of giants. We build up from the past, coral-like, to make our future to be continued. We are never alone and never have been. We are all ONE.

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orange to orangeade

She’d finished washing her hands and had rejoined Edward and Arthur in the living room. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with her, boys,” they heard her say from the kitchen, knowing Dukie was still involved. Unseen. Sitting at the small table Shelley and Arthur or perhaps Shelley and Edward would dine at later. Or earlier. She had to choose, they knew: real or fiction? They, Al and John the Mind Reader sitting around that table for now, talked about the past, the *waste* of it all. Glad to be outta that hellish hole at least for a while. Hot as rot there. They came out to talk about TILE. In a slice of time so orange that everyone had forgotten it existed. All Orange, then.

“Well,” said resigned John to his boss across from him. “It’s right there in the introduction of the manifesto, the first paragraph as it were, although I don’t tell that to the Tilist conservatives of course. ‘Let’s make this shit happen’,” he quoted.

Al uncrossed his arms and started tapping the table nervously, pondering options. 561 paragraphs, 561 words in the *first* paragraph, the one not making up the introduction. *He* was conservative too; in a way, in a manner. He didn’t really like discussing his right leaning tendencies to liberal John, though. And he blocked it from his mind as well, knowing John could dig it out if not. All Orange did the trick. Neither here nor there. A pause between destinies.

“What do you think about the ‘perhaps sentence’?” he decided to say, staring directly into the visor glasses covering his blind eyes, trying to read any emotions he could resulting in the spoken words. Rephrased (and implied): What did liberal John think about Bart and Lisa’s addendums to the manifesto? He’d save discussion about the even more controversial, more obscure Zero Hero until later. Best to deal with the 1 through 8 currently, the visible compendium.

(to be continued)

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male

“Where’s the rabbit?”

“He’ll be up shortly,” Toothpick answers Supper Man. Both are getting married in 1-3 weeks. They have to decide what is first and who is marrying who. The latter should be easy.

“Dinner Girl wanted us to meet again, have tea. She thinks we can help each other. She doesn’t want a double marriage. She thinks we should go first. I say we should go second, see how it goes for you guys.”

“And Dinner Girl isn’t (also) your sister?” asked Toothpick, following up from earlier speculation.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Listen, we’re not the same person.” He leans forward, but dares not touch any part of Toothpick’s body for fear of passing through. Invisible. Nonexistence, even. He’s worked too hard on his abs to fritter all this away. And now that his favorite restaurant has closed up shop it should be even easier to keep the lbs away.

Toothpick/Filbert looks left as a distraction. “The rabbit over there is indicating our old friend Certain Death, Supper Man. No running away from all that. But then there’s the 561 steps now leading from End back to Beginning and the 561 again. Through 24687531 we can be saved.”

“Bahh.” Supper Man even spits toward Toothpick a bit here while exclaiming his exasperation over the supposedly sacred (heart) number. The spittle indeed passes through Toothpick’s skin, muscle and bone, some reaching the back of the chair behind him.

“Why do you disbelieve the power of the even in a row and then the odd in a backwards row?” Toothpick then considered the 9th is involved. He’d seen it once or twice before. The counter to the Zero, perhaps the Zero Hero. “We are getting married in the Temple of TILE after all with the sacred book now open at the front for everyone to see. We have the story of the CITY. The CITY is TILE.”

Supper Man scratched his head. “You and *me* are getting married in the Temple of TILE?”

Back to square one.

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letters and numbers but mostly letters

“Red yellow green blue,” the introduction began. “NO purple. NO orange. NO nothing else. We have our 4. I am Phyllis and I approve this manifesto. Let’s make this shit happen.”

561 words. In the next paragraph.

—–

Future scholars picked out key words like Olive, Gray, Residents, Oklahoma, Pink, Brown, and Geronimo as anchors to their attempts at analyses, even though the sentence, “Keys — you can have them; I’m producing my own delicious peanut based spread for my bread.”, appears plainly in the 166th paragraph (before perhaps one about milk) as a seeming warning to this approach. 1/2 and 1/2 again, since almost everyone agrees that this sentence *is* the key since it is the only readable one in the whole 561 paragraph document (except perhaps for the sentence about milk following it), with the ending paragraph simply, “End.”, and the second to last, “Tartar mosquito.”, and the third to last, “I am instant.”, and so on back to the 561 word 1st paragraph — most scholars don’t count the clearly worded introduction just to be clear. So the 166th paragraph with the sense making sentence has, let’s see (pulls up calculator), 395 words, of which 16 are in that key sentence quoted above. Some turn to maths for explanation of the inexplicable Manifesto, usually capitalized in these TILE friendly and frenzied days. Jim Baloony of Yale’s Harvard points out that 395 divided by 16 equals 24.6875, which when extended to the logically equivalent 24.687531 contains all the even and then odd numbers in order and then reverse order between 0 and 9. “Where is the 9th?” he questions, and then turns to the “perhaps sentence” (as it is called these days) about milk to make his theories more palatable and easier to swallow. It reads: “And so on the 5th day he cowed.” Several books about that sentence alone have now been published, one by Bart Smipson, a skateboarder from Tull, and the other by his vegetarian leaning sister Lisa, co-written by someone who chooses to simply be known as Marty. And then there’s the whole Zero Hero cult that has grown around the mention of Gong in paragraphs 3, 40, and 340.

(to be continued?)

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