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This town is so white

Mirah

Mirah

I love you
I mean,
even whiter than the town I live in.
There is just no variety.
Maybe they are all old too.
Is this reverse racism?


I grew up in Military family, moving around, meeting lots of people.
Everyone here has like lived here all their lives or something.
I definitely feel like an out of towner when I come here.

Pretty enough area, Coyotes were loud!
 
Is it bland as if there were nothing but sand? Is that the word you want? It's like no one has history. There are no post cards that haunt the lunch counter. Yeah I know what you mean. They have tumbler souls. They wait for you to fill them. They wait for sandwiches on hard rolls. But it doesn't matter about their origins. A blank slate is a blank slate.
 
But even sand tells a story if you dig into it. There are empty shells there. Those shells each once held something. What happened to those things? You see those birds walking along the shoreline, flying overhead? They know. Ask them, though, and they'll just stare at you with beady eyes and even if they bother to open their beaks nothing you will understand will issue therefrom. There are other things to find in the sand. Things washed ashore. Covered over from the sands washed in, washed out, washed in, washed out, washed in. I once found a shoe and I wondered what happened to the foot that had been in that shoe and then I thought maybe I didn't really want to know. There are crabs scurrying on the beach and they eat everything, except the empty shells and empty shoes.
 
I know. Cinderella had an empty shoe. She didn't make it home in time. Not too sound too morbid, but, Loktar hasn't been seen, yet. Did he become a pumpkin? Did the crabs grab his red wig? Did someone doubt his sig?
 
In the winds of time, what truly can be said of life? Can we say that life is the time when we live, or is time a slave to life? Can we even know that time is real? We we know anything beyond our nose? But what if you have a very long nose? I think Roktar said something like this in a dream I had in 1998, long before I knew he existed. Or is that a false memory? Or are memories all that is true? Can cats really solve the banking crisis?
 
Life requires time. Otherwise must create a space outside of time in order to exist. Warp space with gravity to create a space outside of time. The trick is getting in and out of that space.
 
Where is the sand you are speaking of? Different sand got in different places by different means. Usually requires water.
 
but sand is made from silicon, an element, that scientists state there is a shortage of. New planets could have diamonds for beaches. if we could find some wormholes we can get around the space time continuum.
 
When I was young my grandfather would take me to see a duck at the pond near my house. For five hundred days I saw this duck. He would tell me every day it was the same duck. But later I figured out that there were many different ducks at that pond so I could not possibly have seen the same duck every day. So he lied to me. Or did he? In every moment I was experiencing the duck, I was in the present. I was not in the past duck-experiencing moments. So every unique moment was unique. Did that mean that even if I had seen the same duck every day, it would be different in every moment? Or are there no moments and all I experienced was but a dream, no way of knowing which duck was real, if any had been. I asked my grandfather about this, but it turned out he had been dead for six years and it was actually a stranger who had been taking me to do the duck. I had wondered why he used to say "THAT'S IT LAD, BEND OVER TO FEED THE DUCK, CORR YOUR BUM IS GETTING NICE AND BIG." But can I truly know that this experience was a real experience and not an experience my mind had created to experience as an experience for my mind to experience? I think ducks are nice.
 
L. O. L. To experience the duck, or not to experience the duck was never the question, but was the answer.
 
CaptainWacky said:
When I was young my grandfather would take me to see a duck at the pond near my house. For five hundred days I saw this duck. He would tell me every day it was the same duck. But later I figured out that there were many different ducks at that pond so I could not possibly have seen the same duck every day. So he lied to me. Or did he? In every moment I was experiencing the duck, I was in the present. I was not in the past duck-experiencing moments. So every unique moment was unique. Did that mean that even if I had seen the same duck every day, it would be different in every moment? Or are there no moments and all I experienced was but a dream, no way of knowing which duck was real, if any had been. I asked my grandfather about this, but it turned out he had been dead for six years and it was actually a stranger who had been taking me to do the duck. I had wondered why he used to say "THAT'S IT LAD, BEND OVER TO FEED THE DUCK, CORR YOUR BUM IS GETTING NICE AND BIG." But can I truly know that this experience was a real experience and not an experience my mind had created to experience as an experience for my mind to experience? I think ducks are nice.
Click to expand...

One day,
the duck said,
"Every day I saw this lad coming to see me....."
 
Mirah said:
I mean,
even whiter than the town I live in.
There is just no variety.
Maybe they are all old too.
Is this reverse racism?


I grew up in Military family, moving around, meeting lots of people.
Everyone here has like lived here all their lives or something.
I definitely feel like an out of towner when I come here.

Pretty enough area, Coyotes were loud!
Click to expand...

Sounds like the dietary equivalent of rice cakes.
 
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