Looking at each other in a coffee shop.
That's what people do.
They look at each other
and they don’t speak.
And amidst the lookings,
There is a look again.
So it continues.
Nothing happens.
It continues. The looking happens.
You look, then look away. Constantly keeps happening.
Occasionally you catch the other persons eye and
they (or you) quickly look away. As if trying to
pretend that no eye contact was made???
It's strange. I'm just going to stare and see how long someone stares back.
It will be like a challenge of some mind muscle.
I'm not sure which one, but something.
It's hard when the person is playing scrabble.
Some how they get wrapped up in a word they are planning
on playing. And they don't look up for a while.
I'm in gear.. Waiting.
hmm. the opportunity isn't presenting itself.
it feels like an ego thing somehow.
Or, like a self thing. Like you think they should look at you
because you think that you look good. Seems like selfishness.
It is just a weird thing.
It's nice though to see humans.
See attractive humans. Their eyes. Or there mouth or teeth.
Feet.
Some humans will be artists. Others will be gardeners.
paper airplane enthusiasts or what have we.
I need to work on not being so negative. I need to focus on positive things.
More looking into a persons heart. And less on there physics realm.
But then again. I love the physics. I love the design. It's impeccable.
ahh, i don't like that word. It's elusive. No. The physics. It is... ... ... ... ... ... ...
dangerous. Ahh forget it. I can not think of a word appropriate for the way the
physics of people affects me. The subjectivity of myself. The psychophysics that
are happening. It is strange.
I do love beauty though.
Beautiful people.
Our eyes are never satisfied.
And that is a good thing. I don't want my eyes to ever be satisfied.
I don't ever want my stomach to be satisfied either. I want the process to continue
forever.
----
Corn-beef hash engineer.
Engineering the corn, the beef, likely angus, 100% angus.
Angus beef, cow dirty cows eating dirty grass.
Grass polluted grass.
Grazing in the grass, someone makes a pass.
Passes by.
French fries come from potatoes, potatoes are tubers.
Not vacuum tubes, but tubers.
Coffee isn’t a vacuum tube.
Coffee is a synthesizer.
Synthesizers are limited.
Alcohol is a drum machine.
Drum machines are limited.
Iowa is limited.
Gold hand bags are limited.
Anorexia nervosa is limited.
Brain storming is limited.
Limits.
Limit.
Speed limits are limited.
Tildes are limited.
Limits.
I want to use different methods to make music.
The way I make music now is so old and boring and monotonous.
I’m interested in other things besides myself, making the music.
I want to take sources of information and translate it live into music.
I’ve taken information from planets and translated it into pitch,
but I had to physically program all of it. It wasn’t a live stream of music.
I want there to be no interaction by me,
except to set up a system like this.
There could be temperature to MIDI,
humidity could control MIDI parameters.
Tree movement translated into audio.
Animal movement.
Wind controlled filters.
I want to set up a sound machine, always live
and I want to constantly add new data sources.
Needs Research and Development.
----
I threw a drinking glass like a baseball onto my wood floor.
Wooden floor, panels of wood.
The dent is there now like a frowning mouth.
Shaped like a sliver of a moon.
A moon in the sky, a thumbnail moon.
An angry thumb.
Nails and thumbs and baseballs.
Anger is a stranger, pleased to meet you.
Strangers say hello.
Adieu, where my scardy pants, tight squeeze.
Scared pants.
Hurling a pitch with swirling stitch.
I haven’t yet gone through.
The pleasant iron.
Sorely sick arms thick.
Sorely sick arms thick.
White skin.
Baseball thread, red and white leather.
Thread like sewing machine moons.
Laughing a storm of clouds.
Moons, hide in clouds.
Proud clouds though.
Directing clouds.
Frowning thread moving and moving.
Growing trees to the blue moon, the blue sea and the white baseball with red thread.
The sad the with the the.
Here is sad sewing machine.
Forgiveness stitch and here is fractal eclipse.
Light writing with on off and fractals.
Writing with light running, sprint to finish base.
Third base.
Home run ball.
Moon and my blue blood.
Curve ball.
----
The happy, no fear of death thoughts.
The happy, no fear of death thoughts.
The happy, no fear of death thoughts.
My bosom holds prison my hope, my bosom does.
My bosom holds prison my hope, my bosom does.
My bosom holds prison my hope, my bosom does.
Value. Values of values.
Value, value life.
Value your life, that was given to you.
Value, value, put value on your life.
Put high value on your life that was given to you.
Put more value on your life than on material things.
Physical things.
Physics.
Tangible stuff, touchables.
Touchables.
Brain power, I see brains.
I love human brains.
Brains.
Spirits.
Spirits.
I love spirits that love good.
Spirit, intangible.
Apple computers, I can touch.
I can use them as a tool.
Touch, my fingers touch them.
So, the intangible things, those things.
I need to discipline my brain, my thinker
to place power, to place focus, to place direction,
focus, brain eyes.
I need my brains eyes to look at the intangible.
The source of life, spirit.
The invisible, the things that human vision cannot look on.
I, Thomas, me, my chemicals.
My skin cells, my brain, my pumping heart, my blue veins.
My blue veins filled with the ocean.
May my blood bluely bounce in rowing motion, my blue potion.
My blue blood. My blue potion in a bottle.
My bottle of potion, my blue sea.
My heart, my engine my horse, my industrious horse, galloping and rhythmic flower.
No.
My heart is like a horse and like a flower.
My Apple computer is a piece of garbage.
My horse is brilliant.
