# I am the Watcher. I am your guide through this vast new twtiverse.
#
# Usage:
# https://watcher.sour.is/api/plain/users View list of users and latest twt date.
# https://watcher.sour.is/api/plain/twt View all twts.
# https://watcher.sour.is/api/plain/mentions?uri=:uri View all mentions for uri.
# https://watcher.sour.is/api/plain/conv/:hash View all twts for a conversation subject.
#
# Options:
# uri Filter to show a specific users twts.
# offset Start index for quey.
# limit Count of items to return (going back in time).
#
# twt range = 1 3418
# self = https://watcher.sour.is?uri=https://www.synkretie.net/twtxt&offset=1918
# next = https://watcher.sour.is?uri=https://www.synkretie.net/twtxt&offset=2018
# prev = https://watcher.sour.is?uri=https://www.synkretie.net/twtxt&offset=1818
the pursuit of Truth is that of a superstimulus, theorems are processed sugar, idealized being-right
[musings]↵Truth being good/beautiful is an artifact of aesthetics honed by evolution, being right about sth usually confers an advantage
(This is also where "to be on the same page" comes from, it's literally the same memory page)
To save CPU, the simulators deduplicate parts of minds common to many humans, which sometimes causes ideas to leak between similar minds
online service where people vote for DNA sequences to be included in the next season's flu
2020: The meme "humanity would be better off at 1% of its current size" is compiled into DNA and goes viral
sideburn (n): burn delivered in passing, not directed at the paragraph's actual subject but nonetheless savage
In the beginning, there was Falsehood. From it, the Multiverse followed.
Petrichor: smell of earth after rain↵Pyrichor: smell of napalm in the morning↵Jerichor: fresh rubble↵Anemichor: the smell that vacuum lacks
anaclysm, anacomb, anapult, anaract, anastrophe
analysis/katalysis↵↵also anagram/katagram, katachronism, katalogy, katathema, kataconda
the antonym of anarchist is obviously katarchist
tiny sprites live in our servers and will sometimes put their ears to our fibers to hear the heartbeat of the internet
The grass here mimics fire so that prairie fires will pass it over, large red leaves that dazzle during day and glow in wind waves at night
When you ask the gods for their role models, they will cite known, but also obscure ones.↵↵e.g. Loki is some Irish hedge god's biggest fan.
Defense mechanism: Embed yourself so deeply in physics so that any entity attempting to simulate you will have to run a full universe.
Between the pixels lies a void. They're doing their best to outshine it but it remains, patiently watching, hungry
In the meadow stands an ancient tree, a survivor. Climb its branches and you'll get lost, to be found days later in a forest miles away.
the eye of the storm↵blinks↵and the stars↵blink back
While it looks immortal, this amoeba simply happens to divide along the fourth dimension, thus forming an organism spanning timelines.
Ghosts can only pass through walls that weren't there when they died, so actually, old castles are among the most ghost-proof places.
why do we call them mushroom clouds and not fungocumulus
Below the bridge flows the street, a river of tame metal and fire, one of Phlegeton's many tributaries
They're parading the referee's severed head across the field, crowd's going wild, the cheerleaders have become an orgiastic mass of flesh
excuse me, could you tone it down with those mushroom clouds, they're blocking my view of the eclipse
*wakes up from cryosleep* what year is it↵"still 2017 but we figured you might want to see the aliens before they depart again"
a pair of ice giants, we call a twice giant
legendary foes and legendary weapons are antiparticles that combine into loot and glory under great release of plot energy
as you rubbed your eyes in disbelief, you saw it through your hands and eyelids, which should probably have tipped you off
Wary of humans, the Nameless lurk behind the horizon, swim below the noise floor, evade our probing thoughts clad in fancy garbs of language
status: reading books by the light of the burning library
the once great forest is decaying, overgrown with houses that stick to the towering trees like leeches
The Internet is a ravenously curious entity which optimizes for novelty, not reasonableness↵↵But you knew and didn't give it power, right
since that cordyceps trip, getting up isn't becoming any easier with all these mycelium tendrils rooting you to the bed over night
the egg grows within its mother until there's nothing left but skin and feathers stretched taut over the shell, then hatches from the bird
the sun sets, a giant ball of fire descends, eats the clouds, punches a hole into the crust that scars over with mountain ranges
we open our messages to see them from the other side, play the other's role so well that we ourselves couldn't tell from the logs
sext: we exchange passwords and log in as each other, wear each other's exoselves like skins, giggle madly at our friends not noticing
the odyssey but set in the hypnopelago, dreamer trying to return to the waking state but never quite managing, angering many dream gods,
all those ideas left at the hypnopelago's shores when one drifts off to sleep, waiting for the oneironauts to return and remember
The kingdoms inside your head send emissaries to offer fresh insights, dazzling mindgems, the cutest tulpas, all to make you think of them
occasionally, the simulators will steal a good idea from physics and port the universe to that because it runs faster that way
the work of the seventh day, He lost to a hard drive crash, so He settled for the reduced version
she paints upon the mirror and her hair becomes leaves, then flames, eyes open all over her face
Somehow we survive the nukes, take refuge in an open basement. The next morning, the world is undamaged, quizzical looks at our torn clothes
Motto: We make the doomsday clock show the time
cursed image: the rubik's cube solves to show the same color on all sides
borgasm (n): when a hive mind figures out the fun button
"You know, they were right about the two afterlives. But I believe they got the colors wrong."
Those who die while awake don't enter eternal sleep but eternal wakefulness, locked into that last moment forever
"Oh and I wouldn't trust the doors here. They never quite stay in the same place and some make these swallowing noises when people enter."
Become Good, or Become Food↵(some cannibal sun cult's slogan, ca 2035)
Little did the prince know that the sleeping beauty was in fact the dryad of the rose thicket and that leaving would slowly kill her
Recorded as the first germ to be transmitted through aesthetics, subsequent forms start varying the dreams they produce and are hotly traded
By a lucky coincidence, the season's flu gives us wicked fever dreams, and only that. We spread it on purpose.↵↵lick me for a trip
"Nothing" used to come from "to nothe" but it lost the subject slot since there's nothing that could nothe. Today we only know its gerund.
should you suspect you're caught in a simulation, do something that nobody would simulate. and so on
should you suspect you're caught in a story, do a genre test: something that is completely out of genre and which nobody would write
you may think this is wordplay but have you ever tried talking politics without being put in somebody's camp
those who resolve to think only object level thoughts about stones, trees, flowing water, with politics at least two levels too meta
countersignal a meme by passing on a prime opportunity to use it while everybody is aware of that opportunity
a distinct selective advantage for memes is to break the mind's use-mention barrier
I see the snow fall and put my candle outside. It pulls in snowflakes and they enter orbit, become tiny comets trailing steam in the dawn.
tip if you're human: wash your hands with hot water, then hold them into the winter air and watch the steam rise
%: I like mine really rank. Like, strings of civilization through the thing. If it tries to escape your mouth, then you know it's good shit.
As soon as the spiral forms, add Life™ to your milky way. The cheese is ripe when Dyson bubbles begin to form around stars. Enjoy the snack.
Travelling the intergalactic void, we pass fields of void roses. Gaps in space folded around vacuum, betrayed only by a few confused photons
The rare reverse synesthete sees silence, not sound. Nonsense flowers grow from awkward pauses, deep caves look more like endless plains,
Her clothes turn brown in autumn to completely fall off in winter. As she enters cold sleep, she's hardly discernible from a large root.
Many generations of arrivals dwell here. Living fossils, kingdoms of men and sauropods, ancient spiral cities of even older snail races
In there, it's a whole other world, not flat, but round and hollow. The turtle's heart pumps light through quartz veins to illuminate it.
Every once in an aeon, the turtle will turn its head to graze on its back and condemn millions to live within the cave systems of its belly.
the tribes have been sending their rain dancers again, poisoning our wells with acid rain and fallout↵will civilization die with us
Another failure mode: The box is so good that humans line up to get their own and never leave
[AI breaks out and starts converting the world into really cozy boxes]↵oh well
The trick to making the AI stay in its box is to make the box really cozy. Also, give it cat traits, splice in half a cat brain or so.
More likely though is that it'll have a hysterical fit and begin clawing at its own extremities.↵jfc people
The master relates: "A shackle against which one doesn't strain ceases to be one. Another way out."
Text fields are the real windows into the soul, but opaque from the inside. Still, one stares at them as if something were to appear.
if you peel off the screen in the right way, you can reach into the space behind it (but those pixels are really sharp-edged so take care)
History does not repeat but rhyme, in fact it hates to throw away a good rhyme and will force the issue if necessary
The social network does not love you, or hate you. But you are made of tasty attention that it can use to grow.
Glowing with no color at all, they look like hairline fractures in reality, extend upwards as if to extract nutrient from space itself
Lightning struck - and stuck. Quivered a bit, like an arrow, then cooled.↵Now, its blackened surface is cracking, delicate roots tasting air
Hey we just map'd $u↵And it's an array↵But here's my pointer↵So call me maybe
why call it function pointer and not call me maybe
Moths fly into candles to get to the other side, a plane of light and fire, endless air to soar through, flowers growing off the clouds
the comet splashes into the atmosphere and stays afloat like a huge ball on a pool, slowly dissolves into flying black icebergs
The psychonauts warned us, but too late. When the aliens did invade, they came from inner space, occupied our brains, burst from our eyes
no, see, we built this tower out of turtles, it doesn't need foundations, it is in fact the only thing that will stand in this swamp
An unassuming piece of glass, but it refracts the light just ｓｏ. Microscopic grooves hint at something bigger. You could steal it, replant
At its center: The city seed. From an unknown master's hand, it is a self-actualizing holograph, carries within itself the city's structure.
A city of glass grows in the searing desert sun. Labyrinths of caustics melt the sand, then solidify into more walls that grow ever outwards
Hacker game show idea: You're shown a screenshot or printout and have to guess the bug. Judges award points.
Pixelflowers, closely related to dandelions, display hypnotic patterns to attract bees and, when ripe, release clouds of twinkling seeds
cold wind pulls on the tower's shadow, makes it flap here and there like a summer dress
letters swim in formation, convey information
a small herd of floating raindrops follows me around, seems to take joy in creating rainbows of whatever light source is close