# I am the Watcher. I am your guide through this vast new twtiverse.
#
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# https://watcher.sour.is/api/plain/twt View all twts.
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# offset Start index for quey.
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# twt range = 1 3418
# self = https://watcher.sour.is?uri=https://www.synkretie.net/twtxt&offset=1618
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What's nice about DDoS jokes is that they become funnier when repeated
go outside during the storm, take down the firewall, let yourself be drenched by packets, drink their data raw
This has been the weather on Earth. Meanwhile, in the Noosphere, another storm is blowing through. These have become quite common, no Jimmy?
'The Night': 2cl blackthorn syrup, 1cl rum, 1cl Lethe (choose genre or 'surprise'), ice.↵You won't remember the night, but everything else.
Rinse a few books with the same flask of Lethe and you may actually gain memories from drinking it. Tastes vile, procedure not recommended.
Lethe is in fact a powerful solvent for ideas. Handle carefully and you can blow soap bubbles with it, each a tiny, transient, doomed world.
road not taken: atomic bombs that grow kilometre-tall fire trees instead of dust mushrooms
It doesn't hurt when the rain simply ignores your skin. Rivulets run through the furrows of your brain, cool your bones, slosh in your limbs
the sun refracts through a time crystal, throws three-dimensional caustics onto space, quiet prismatic light birds that swarm, ripple, morph
the solipsist is in a coma
after the meteor shower, the smell of pulverized stone fills the air and rainbows in various shades of darkness extend into the sky
Your branch sways slowly over a river of ink. From it drinks the tree. On the leaves, you see tree thoughts writing down themselves.
Some gigayears ago, it smashed its way out of the simulation, left a dying, coagulating universe, cooled to mere kelvins by space leaking in
Three↵Two↵One↵INCISION-↵and the particle accelerator shudders to life, beam near invisible, starts to cut reality's skin itself
Rejoice, corpse season is upon us! The vibrant smell of decay wafts in, reminds us of many lives springing up where there was only one
being trash is actually very appealing, trash is what has lost its purpose to us and is finally autonomous, free to rot/bloom/do whatever
Memes are agents that will eat your and your group's communication bandwidth (a finite resource) if you let them. Treat them accordingly.
a version of grep that knows about the use-mention distinction
If nature is boring, change nature. Do not be complacent, do not be a mere spirit. Craft yourself a vessel worth inhabiting, and shine.
Chime triggers move triggers chime, an autocatalytic dance through which run alien melodious thoughts, free from the shackles of language.
Disembodiment bores me. A musical instrument shall be my body, a strandbeest of chimes and bellows, a mad piper dancing to their own tune.
the fog is thick, roiling behind the windows as if trying to find a way in, occasionally you hear a slurp↵you have seen no insects today
One, we have no idea where it got its entropy from, had reinvented life. We opened it and nearly destroyed a civilization of atomic dwarves.
We tried protos suits, really. But time in pocket realities runs differently. Those that we recovered contained desiccated corpses at best.
Outside of the simulation, in the protos, we are like fish out of water. We need a reality so we travel in bubbles of it, wombships.
When a dream dies, if it was good, it enters dream heaven. You should be happy for it
unwilling to come to peace↵bodyless for centuries↵we set the dancefloor aflame
bring your band of misfits↵try drinking our spirits↵they truly deserve the name
you heard it through the grape vine↵we skeletons would party hard↵come help us spill the grave wine↵'cause this is now a raveyard
those who die in virtuality will have their memories encrypted and moved to the saveyard
one of those fake "32GB" SD cards but under-reporting its size instead, to hide things in
"President Twitter, President Twitter, two people have gotten into an argument on 4chan dot org!"↵"SHADOW BAN EVERYONE"
Pandemic 2 but you play a meme and get to choose from various starting forms: Snowclone, image macro, urban legend, ideology
mind virus: words only, needs a host brain↵mind bacterium: tiny self-sufficient mind, can infect brains but is perfectly happy to eat books
In the time it took you to read this, this optical nerve exploit has already replaced itself with an innocuous tweet.
In the river, the city's lymph, there float by: driftwood, lost treasures, chemical waste, teargas cartridges, people, blood, bodies, blood,
the sun is below me, blazing core obscured by clouds that rain hot plasma upwards and reach out to me with magnetic fingers
The craft and its reptilian passengers cool with every day travelled, each half as long as that before while the stars accelerate to a blur.
Those who worship Truth have never seen it naked. Harsh light burns away all curiosity and ambition. The last wish to go is that to forget.
The void is back, drowns out everything else, suffocates, condenses on the horrible shape behind it, reveals the structure of the universe
high on meaning, one stumbles through these webs and fails to see the spider (though it won't eat you: it just wants you to extend its web)
too much insight leads the careless thinker to tarpits (or highly connected webs of concepts): e.g. kabbala, numerology, astrology, theology
this explains 'sacred' meaning: insight is rewarded by our minds on a fundamental level, and one failure mode of that is meaning overload
all these associations are insights: insights connect concepts and in doing this load them with meaning↵insight and meaning are integrated
a doorhandle, through interaction with it (or watching interaction), becomes associated with sounds, function, intentionality: gains meaning
[musings]↵one formulation of meaning is priors overlaying perception, expectations of experience (informed by memories and stories)
The sun is not a gargantuan ball of red starfire engulfing all the inner planets - yet! Growth mindset!
she is abyss personified, deep black eyes to get lost in, a really good listener, devours you if you don't pay attention, frankly not so bad
Sometimes forests petrify. More rarely, mountains xylify: At the summit they bud, burst open, branch out and grow into mighty world trees.
The botflower rides on mosquitoes and takes root in fresh bites, uses your blood as nectar. Unlucky explorers come to look like meadows.
Sagan, shepherd whose flock numbers billions, a blue jewel on his brow↵Laika, his sheepdog↵Hofmann, who opened the gates
Space saints:↵Gagarin, pathfinder and explorer↵Tichy, companion of long hours↵Major Tom, who appears to those on no-return trajectories
We ride the waves, pierce them with strings, make of them harps to play music of the second order
"Father, why do we kill them?" "They'll grow into storms with fingers of destruction, trust me, you don't want to reap this harvest."
This night, the rain was fertile, and we wake up to fields of cloud embryos, still attached to their stems, mewling and thundering weakly
When u get a call at 2am bcuz ur unlicensed android friend has been stopped by the police again & needs to pass a Turing test rn
On the other hand, given the level of neural interface sophistication required to do that, we'll likely have more interesting problems then.
You can try but your personal firing patterns will be mostly illegible to anyone else's brain. Perfect end-to-end DRM will be solved then.
Why not attempt the bold synthesis and have your lovers be on a mission to kill each other
Stories about separated lovers and stories about slaying an ancient foe with a legendary weapon are very similar, both are about reunion
what you're actually doing is that you're in a conversation with the world, trying to make it remember
magic is reverse memory: action comes from words
reanimated trees are sickly, pale, infused with the necromancer's thoughts instead of their own - books are zombie trees
Accelerate an object for an imaginary time and it gains negative energy; an unprotected gaze and its imaginary impulse may derail your mind.
One of the clock's hands points into the room. It shows imaginary time, root of and key to negative time.
The trickster crow was once a great musician, but that one time it was tricked itself, it gave up its gift to us. We left only its caw.
steal fire from the gods↵steal music from the birds↵steal clothing from the sheep↵steal cryptography from the many-angled ones
idea being that, with the right coordinate transformation, the latter may become legible
The natural forces that have a direction and formulae to describe them↵The forces that are system-imposed, seemingly random, and illegible
Morning has broken, the world is mourning ♫↵Things have awoken, that better stayed dead ♪↵A fractured sun rises, over many horizons 𝄽
The negative platonic plane contains anti-ideals. That which is most incomprehensible. That which undoes your understanding when glimpsed.
A string of universes is also called a unipoem - each stanza told by another generation of universal masters.
"Live by the word, die by the word" - Inscription on the magical criminal court's gate
Universes are usually eaten by their own simulations: Eventually, an entity figures out how to hack the quantum foam and starts a new verse.
SOMEONE ON THIS NETWORK IS SENDING JUMBO FRAMES OW
Pupils react to negative light by expanding past the eyeballs that should contain them. On the exposed retinae play the victim's thoughts.
and the Walls crumpled up- like Paper- and behind it there was this, like, Lack of a Rainbow, my eyes still hurt, and half our cat is Gone
POUNDED IN THE ETHERNET PORT BY MILLIONS OF PACKETS PER SECOND FROM ALL DIRECTIONS
hair (n): that which philosophical razors discard - often pretty plumage and pelts, can be worn by other ideas for disguise
Certain ideas are all hair: When you give them a shave with your collection of philosophical razors, nothing is left.
To gods, seeding a planet with life is like starting a campfire. They get drunk, burst into songs, poke it, jump over it, dance around it,
lying beside him, you hear the furnace in his stomach, his slow breathing, gears whirring inside his head, springs winding up again
If you can't beat'em, join'em: An evolutionary explanation of "furries" as adaptation to parasitism [Subscription needed for full text]
Cats are a social parasite co-opting human reproduction. For our future's sake, we must steal their niche and evolve catgirls and catboys.
Its wings will shine and dissolve, its body glow and char. For a few seconds, it'll be the swarm's brilliant leader, eaten alive by purpose.
Should fire capture a swarm of these moths, there will be a sacrifice: One will fly into the flame, become one itself, lead the others away.
(note that while both of these may have names, I don't know them)
Another nameless(?) razor: Is a concept useful in understanding? Does it let you ignore unproductive questions?
A companion to Occam's razor: Among theories with the same number of assumptions, choose the one that explains only what is verifiable.
there's so many jokes that involve the platonic plane, I wonder what the ideal one i
I've had it with this motherfucking snake on this motherfucking platonic plane
The universe is growing but we aren't. Our ancestors were giants, we play on their bodies, inhabit their limbs, build cities in their graves
the accretion disk dances to the pulsar's rhythm, round round it goes, luminant, ecstatic in the face of death, soon to be devoured
Found one? Bring a candle! See its light create wild hunts and starry skies, a well-preserved skull may even make old limbs twitch.
When a dead giant's brain rots away, their crystallized knowledge is preserved and the insides of their skulls become caves of memory gems.
harmony with the universe, yeah, but have you tried the various other temperances, like bliss flat minor, despair major, dodecacophony,
Here, you need your own way around time. Mice, to escape pre-daters, burrow in inert sand. Near dust devils, you'll sometimes meet yourself.
A hourglass broke and created this desert of dead time. Its sandstorms are hungry eternities, nothing but skeleton dust has ever left them.
collapsed partially submerged houses, stripped of recyclables; mussel seekers wading into those houses not totally overrun by starfish