Stasis Clock

I am going to be honest here. I was writing another post, and I got up, used the bathroom, stretched and then sat back down. My neck tighten and body began to ache. Then I lost my train of thought, and then promptly saved it into a file and started over. I know the post is incomplete, but it didn't feel right anymore. As I reread and couldn't feel the flow. Acceptance. That is hard to know. Hard to understand. Hard to feel. Hard to feel it all. As the masses of this world press down. Incomplete, body language, fury, insecurity and the rage of years of being bound. I will never stop. I am that person who goes for it anyways because sitting still is not me at all. I am a person who chase after what I want. Even if disorientation is a thing. Even if my body is feeble and confusion overtakes. I will get up and try over. Rehearse. Refine. Redo. Fear is the reality of the world being much denser. Much greater than any wave of the sea. I cannot crest every attack. I cannot endure ever...

The simplicity of life is that we realize the complexities of man. What we add to it, and when we gain intelligence it becomes simple. Often times the process mean a destruction of sort. Destabilizing as we move forward from one form to another stance. Its painful. Rewarding for when you reach it through. Because good change feels right, and you have claimed a slice of heaven. Meaning you have become something better than not. Good people suffer. Good people make bad decisions. Good people don't understand other people. Because our souls may be bright, but our outlook is imperfect. We can be pain points for other souls simply because of one thing. We don't see people as people.  I experienced that from others. They treat me as a true or be gone situation. Either I get it or I don't. Either I fulfill their desires or not. Either I am an accessory to their narrative, or validate their existence, or some other vain outlook. I am a person. I have a soul. I can feel...

High compression. The real. The fake. The boundary between. Finite gate. Compress the unlimited into the finite space. Integers, precision error with floats, boolean on and off. Composing and rotating. The anchor in a world of endless propagation. Endless self-similar patterns. Endless time. The finite symbols. They hold you still. Not imprisoned. Not sugar coated brownies to spike you. Just ground zero. Feeling complete. Symbols are finite. They are limited in scope, and they are meant to be together. When you align them in a pattern, or compose and smash them together, they radiate that possibility. A viewpoint will see something breathing. Alive. Characters seemingly real, because they represent something real. I can take a pattern and endlessly see it grow, or follow a history and follow the trail back. I look at an object and patterns spike as information endlessly grows. I have to be careful to not do something too long, or my head will start heating up and the screaming and guit...

You know. Its been a season. A real intense season. From November to April, and perhaps much more to manage, is pain. Pain of heart. Pain of soul. Inflamed by my physical health. When a inflamed nervous system forces the issue, you need to deal with the problem when you are in a chair. Nerves burning flaming travel right past your mind into you heart and down to your feet. Your gut hurting, your sinuses inflamed and sleepless nights are barely changing. I am sleeping better. For common decent life, I worked for better. And I will continue to burn. Burn static sparks. As I fix myself while I am suffocating. Down into the bay. Salt seething. Salt soothing. Salt purifying. I remove all the sea and drag down the rings slowly and gritting my heart. Press forward. No attack. Do not attack. Do not attack. Angry is terrible. Anger is wrong. Anger hurts. I can disagree without anger. I can cut off without judgment. I can move forward without slander. I can be reasonable and rational because pai...

Coding is going well. My iPad is being used a lot. As I am just writing. Writing different choices and seeing what sort of experience they make. I use a text editor. No code compile. No bug checks. Just the symbols and my sound world living. I write statements like they are writing themselves. Like I am speaking sentences. Genealogy is very invigorating. For me, its like going back in time, and with code, I am creating an interactive world. These statements are the basis which all these little interactions may be designed. I am so excited. Complete control of how I want to do genealogy and family history. I have never been into the pedigree charts or lifeless data. I wanted dimension. Feeling. Experience. And now that I can code, I am going to bring that here. Bring it all to the present. Today. Not to say that the old methodology is useless. Quite the opposite. The software I am making and creating is about adding more. Like marble cake. A little sugar. A little swirl. More to it than...

I have picked the name Clacahan As my creative name for work and writing.