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Forging Steel

We have an interesting problem here. I know the potential within. The meaning and gift that flows like water. Sifting through change and adapting to change. It is also fire because the tap runs hot. Melting down steel. Removing non-affinities. Your gift is here, but my hands have no fingers, and they have no claws. I cannot dig. I cannot rip. It is change. Like water I flow. Hear me fire, do not burn, but flow. Flow into the liquid and adapt. Combustion is propulsion forward, but when melted with steel, it takes form like water. Like liquid into H2O. Meaning on my palm, I touch and place the wall. Deep breaths. Deep imaginings. It is here. Cycles. The liquid has no pain. It knows no passion. Burn water. Do not boil but push. Shape your container. Forge the template. And then greet the sword that will forge. The pillar that will penetrate all nonsense. All nonsense can be forgiven. Forging steel. Now look at your hand. Those fingers have extended mech. Your eye once pure is purified wit...
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The past

As the years go by, the meaning of humans slipping and dying. A conflict with the actual truth. Like embers. The value of everyone, of us, is so sure that no foundation can shake the meaning of humanity. We are human beings. Valiant, beautiful and endless in our potential. Our destiny is one step to hear right now. Yet the pain I feel overshadows that meaning, a dented symbol shadowing the old. Snapping right over. I need a spoon to scrape it out. Aluminum sealed upon titanium steel. Foolish pride. Old but new philosophy. Freakin humans beating their own drums. Loud, overbearing and plain sneer. Rubbing not alcohol, nor medicine, but their own venom coursing out. Missing the good ideal and ache through the core. From apple core to red liquid. The goop saps the tree out. You mean nothing. I mean nothing. No one means anything. See? Their words burn because its a beating sick. Empty calories never meant to hold concrete meaning, the meaning lost with 'rational' philosophy, but re...
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Project update: flaregami

I changed my project name to flaregami. I have been referring to this project in my last few posts. Its a 3d modeling library for building and designing 3d models through code. Using Rust as the language. In one of my past posts, I linked to this project. I went back to the post and updated the link to reflect the right place.
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Distortion Field

I have mentioned including my artistic side to coding. Here is the refinement of my process. My pipeline into creating code. And possibly other endeavors. There are cycles. A swing to the left. Then a swing to the right. A pendulum. This pendulum swings between artistic drive and freedom, and to refinement through governance via structure. The artistic side reigns freely and alters the code. Causing a distortion in the structural integrity. Leading to new ideas. This is where the village and shaman come in. The narration distorts pure logic. Other artistic ideas and flares lead to more kinds of distortions. Increasing complexity and richness to the process, and the distortion leads on. Propagating and expanding.  Eventually the weight and burden becomes massive. Causing the pendulum to swing back around. Entering the era of compression. The compression is taking all the artistic thought and finding structure within. Aligning the narrative to the goal. The specification. Bringing it...
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Aftermath

I am in the chair falling asleep. It feels both incredibly helpful and miserable at the same time. Yesterday created a ripple. In one branch is the helpfulness of having better spaces. A clean room that will lower my global stress. Making all life avenues a little cleaner. The other cascading effect is today. My body hurts a lot. My neck stiff to the point I couldn't turn left or right. Now I have some ability to move. Just not around. I can write here. Thank goodness. I am getting antsy. And the past wants to rush at me. I am like that kid whistling in the ally way. Thinking of the wonderful smells, but the wolves lurk in the dark. Blinking. Smiling with teeth that absorb the light. Shadows. I put music on, think creative thoughts and hopefully float past the workings of my mind. These mechanism that try to be helpful, but are really just clogging my mind. Making me gag inside. My subconscious sees me staying still, and says, "hey! Let's work through some trauma. Here you...
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Fall Cleaning

Woke up. Iced my back. Yesterday I stretched further. Pushing my walking time more. Enabling better growth. And man, it felt good. This was no price tag. It was investment. Greater flow, greater control. However. Asthma. Yeah it was air quality issues. The State I live in is struggling with pollution, wild fires and other assortment of reasons. The air used to be fine. No breathing problems. I grew up in the Evergreen State. And allergies caused hell for me between April and late July. Moved away. For eight years, barely two weeks of itchy eyes and breathing problems. Two weeks out of the whole year. This being late May and early June. Now the whole routine has changed. Fall, Spring and Summer I have daily breathing issues. Winter is still difficult, but for some reason the air feels a little better. Hmmm. I wonder if this would make a great Raspberry Pi project. I have a couple in my office and I been looking for a use for them.  I'm writing as I think here. This is a good idea. I...
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Within the Walls

I mentioned this in my last post:  Removing Obstacles "Software is more than just logic. It is meaning as well. It tells a story layer by layer. It claims logic, inhabits the house of binary, and then feeds diversity into foundational walls. Layer by layer. Imagination links up with rules. From 1s and 0s to the calling function of "fire_weapon()". We tell a story. Slowly. Gently. Guiding the strands and transforming them to be more human. More intelligent. Weaving the strand with other strands. A silky web. Then the net is pulled and sounds rings off of every section. Music at connected points. Notarized in their notes, and words are encoded. Ideas focused by the reality of binary limitations." And that was written before I coded in the same evening. I wrote down that blog post as an record for myself. I vented my past, to clear the air from my eyes, and then wrote what I wanted to do. That night I recreated the project I did previously. Instead of git branch, I cho...
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