I’m sitting on the lawn at Deer Creek Music Center ready to experience my first Phish concert. Three years ago, I saw the Grateful Dead. At that time, there were fans of all types: families, yuppies and Heads. Today. Deer Creek’s lawn is blanketed with a surreal version of that crowd, only younger. I don’t think I see anyone over 30.
I feel old – and I have to pee really bad! Do I go to the bathroom now or wait until the show starts?
My bladder wins the battle. My companion, John, grabs my arm in a panic, “You can’t leave now! They could start any minute!” He shakes his head as I pull away, venturing through the crowd to the women’s bathroom. There’s a long line of about 60 “Phunky Bitches.” As I wait, I hear the crowd let out a roar of welcome. Phish has walked on stage. Just my luck. With the first chord, the women in the line fling themselves from the queue. Wide eyed hippies, all of them cheering, speed past me as if running from a fire. Cool! Sitting on the porcelain throne, I realize I’m now the only one in here.
Walking back to the lawn, my eyes and ears have been stimulated. I stop just outside pavilion, and witness a giant pulsating crowd of people, dancing to a funny little tune called “Bathtub Gin.” The crowd appear to be a giant organism – no individuals, just a mass of movement. The mass is jumping, whirling, a gyration in unison. Here’s the most amazing part: The only way I can find John is to dance my way back. If I didn’t, I’d look out of place.
The walkway that separates the lawn from the pavilion is no longer a sidewalk. It’s an anaconda of bouncing humanity, snaking it’s way to and fro. People have big smiles and spin like dervishes. I begin to laugh out loud from sheer nervousness – afraid I have lost John in the mob. As if guided by some magnificent force from above, miraculously I find our spot, although it’s not a spot at all, just another small place to dance.
A Phish newsgroup posting uses the following analogy:
“Phish is the water hose, we are the flowers.”
They were right, I had to dance. I think of lemmings – but in a warm and fuzzy way. I spot pixie-like girls twirling in circles. After three hours the most incredible light show and musical insanity, the show is over. The experience was unforgettable, but I wasn’t too sure of the improvised and sometimes disjointed jams that constitute the band’s unique sound. This is a genre of music I can appreciate, but not necessarily enjoy on the home stereo. We left with the thousands of fans. There is a point at the exit at the end that narrows down to small funnel and so it takes quite awhile to get to the last gate. I get a bit panicky as I don’t like tight crowds. Then someone begins to “moo” like a cow. Everyone else joins in. Now, this is funny! and my anxiety goes away. Hundreds of fans would stay behind for fellowship and grilled cheese and goo balls. Many will walk the cornfield lined country road back to their campgrounds. Local residents with big spaces, offer there property to these nomads. The ones that travel from show to show. I felt a twinge of isolation inside. Part of me wanted to stay.
I wanted to know what goes on at those campgrounds after the show. What is it these people understand that I don’t? Maybe if I ate nothing but homemade hippie food for days I would be enlightened too?
Summer of ’98
Just like a reoccurring cold sore or a Jehovah’s Witness at your front door, this band keeps popping into my life. I’m a hard core Pearl Jam fan. The memories of seeing them at Deer Creek were close to my heart and I never could find someone that loved them as much as I did. Phish doesn’t get much radio play in Indiana – or anywhere else for that matter. Why do I hear of them so often? It’s those dam Phish missionaries – people who find Phish and want you to find them as well.
I had been working with John at the local planetarium and he played their music their music for almost every evening opening to our laser shows. I had kinda had enough. He left and I took over his job to manage and perform laser shows to rock music for the public. Prior to each show, I played walk-in music while the crowd was being seated. For once this music was my own choice and depending on the show, sometimes I played Pearl Jam. I had heard enough of Phish intros. It was here, under the constellation of Aries, that I met yet another Phish missionary. A new laserist I hired. I knew he was a Phish Head before he told me by the macrame choker he wore to an interview. Charlie mentioned he was a Phish fan and wanted the job, but also wanted time off for summer to go on Phish tour. That was a funny thing to say in an interview to someone who needed a laserist right away, against my better judgment, I hired him and worked out the schedule so he could tour as well.
I got to know Charlie. Some people collect baseball cards; Charlie collects ticket stubs of music concerts of all kinds. There are literally hundreds. His collection is neatly preserved in plastic the same way an original Babe Ruth card would be. I understood this because Phish’s tickets are works of art. (Pearl Jam’s are as well. Blatant combative competition thought just now.)
One day while waiting for the matinee crowd with children in the group enter the planetarium, Charlie is in charge of the show. I believe it was a Motown show for all ages. He was allowed to pick his own entry music for the families to enjoy while they waited for the show. I’m not really listening because I’m outside the entrance to the planetarium taking tickets. Suddenly, a woman dressed like she just came from a junior league charity luncheon rudely comes up to me and demands: “Could you please turn that music off inside the planetarium; it’s making my husband very nervous!” My attention focuses on the sounds reverberating from the top of the dome. It sounds like Frank Zappa wired on a double espresso while reading “Dr. Suess!
I run inside and ask Charlie; “what the hell are you playing?” Holy shit! It was LSD inspired fragmented Phish that frankly, was just not appropriate for the crowd full of kids. Thaat song ended and then another came on. It was awkward to the show to stop it at this point. We were lucky the song that came on was called ‘Weigh” which is very childlike and fun.
I’d like to cut your head off so I could weigh it, what do ya say? Five pounds, six, pounds, seven pounds
Kids begin to laugh. So I agree to let him continue.
I’d like to go to your house and gather all your razors and pick all the little prickly hairs so I can weigh them, what do ya say? Five pounds, six pounds, seven pounds I’d like to gather all your friends and squish them all into a small swimming pool so I can weigh them, what do ya say? Five pounds, six pounds, seven pounds Why weigh on a sunny day? So much to do so why, why weigh? On a sunny day, why wei-igh-hey? Why weigh, why weigh? I’d like to hear my options, so I can weigh them, what do ya say? Five pounds, six pounds, seven pounds Why weigh on a sunny day? So much to do, so why, why weigh? On a sunny day, why wei-gh-hey?
I remember hearing Phish for the first time when I was married years before. We had gone to a friend of a friend’s home. Cute couple who owned a tie dye screen printing company. They put on the album “Rift” by Phish. The first Phish song I had ever heard was “Fast Enough” which isn’t fast or fragmented like the future Phish I was to experience. I later bought that CD not knowing that in time they would evolve into a digital psychedelic wall of sound. There was even one track on the CD that was merely the sound of some guy sleeping! 🙂
Fast forward to the planetarium days, I ask Charlie later not to play such deep and tripped out tunes for a conservation Children’s Museum group. The night time shows with adults only would have been a better setting for mind blowing. He kinda gave me a look as if I didn’t understand. I shot one back basically like this “hey, I’m the boss, so I get the last word.” I did however feel my love/hate relationship could be compared to one scene from the film “Amadeus”
too many notes indeed.
Summer Of ’99
Again, sigh, I find myself stuck in traffic in a shuttle van packed with about 70 phish fans and Charlie. Waaaa! I wanted to be going to a Pearl Jam show. How the hell did I get here again? I got claustrophobic. I felt like I was going up the hill on a roller coaster and about ready to die. I had not been feeling well when I boarded the shuttle for three reasons; I had a heavy workload, I had had the flu earlier in the week and I took _ _ _! …….. Against my better judgment. So getting into that van was already a nightmare. Panic set in and I thought I would never make it through the night.
Many fans walk the 20 minute journey from the camp site to the venue. I was not going to walk in this heat. So here I was on the bus and it took an hour! Outside it was 95 degrees with 100% humidity. Inside the but it was about 150 degrees. I try to distract myself by listening to others talk. Long conversations about set lists dominate the chatter. A cacophony of another language to my ears.
We arrive and our group gathers on the lawn: Two laserists, my old friend John, Charlie and his old friend and me. When the music starts Charlie flashes a cheesy Cheshire cat grin. The place is on fire and so am I. Just before the set break, Charlie and his friend go up front. I opt to stay where I am. The second set begins. Soon, I start to over-heat so I sit down. Wrong idea. There is no air on the ground because everyone is standing and packed tightly around me. All I can smell is hippy body order. I stand up again, and that doesn’t help either.
Then it happens. I see myself in space looking down from a ship of some kind. Other beings are with me and they are looking through some microscope at Earth. They zoom into the spot where I stand that is now pulsating with color. One being says to the other “what is that strange array of lights and why are all those cells dancing around it?” Holy crap! Where was I? At that moment I felt as tiny as a atom. I was back on Earthy a minuscule piece of nothing. I didn’t like that vision. I was feeling fragmented and segmented like broken glass. This was no mushroom salad I can tell you that.
These is where Phish scares the hell outta me. The music is too extreme. It’s not Pearl Jam. This would not be happening if it were Eddie Vedder up there being angry and crooning out ballads that CAME TO AN END. I would be a kite flying happily above the crowd vibrating with baritone or dancing my ass off. Something funny happened inside my mind. I said to myself “Where’s my Eddie when I need him?” I looked around riducuiously and saw him. Not him obviously but a vision of him and he said “it’s ok.”
Phish keeps going. God will this song every end. No air. No water. No place to sit. This is not what I expected. An internal dialog of terror and judgment begins. I’m a single mom. I don’t belong here. Who are these people? I’m too old to be doing this. I began to look at all these young people in disdain. This was not a Grateful Dead crowd.. There were no hippy moms holding babies in slings. Everyone was exactly the same age and wearing exactly the same thing. This was not Woodstock either. No one was bathing in the river naked to cool off. I thought “all these people need rehab.” There was nothing I could do about any of it and I felt completely isolated and kinda started to pray to God or those beings or whatever to get me outta there. I’m losing it! My skin is clammy and I feel nauseous. One of my laserists puts her arm around me and says “are you OK?” I say nothing. She knows. Eddie? lol… We rock back and forth. My head is going to burst and the music is getting louder and LouDeR and LOUDER! For God’s sake!?
Then…as if some prayer were heard, Phish does what they always do. They play a ballad. I listen to the lyrics and I start to float away from fear.
Need I mention the song I refer to is 6 minutes and 55 seconds on the album. Since they never stop and go right into one song, thus that video was over 20 minutes long. You get my drift.
I am laughing inside from complete disbelief. God does listen to what I say and she has a sense of humor! My panic washes away. The song is like a cool bath. The band members are up to something and the fans know it! I got it. I look up to see all my friends standing around me, smiling. They had been there the whole time watching over me. John sits down next to me and says “I told you they were like God.”
With my regained strength. We leave the show. The crowd is quiet. Deadly silent after all those notes. Almost uncomfortably silent. I say to my friend, “dam, now it’s too quiet and my ears are ringing.” It’s dark and crowded and I know it’s gonna take awhile to get out of this herd of cows who moo again at just the right time. As we walk through what was once a the dancing anaconda, now it’s just a huge line to leave. Exit music is playing. I don’t know what it was, maybe the Dead. Like magic, a young girl dances in front of me with a green glow stick in her hand. I watch her, mesmerized, and wonder if I have found a guide because I was now enlightened by something. The girl with the green glow stick twirls her way through the crowd like a flashing persistence of vision map as if you’re in your car and hit every green light. She waves her glow stick through the crowd like Tinkerbell.
Effortlessly I follow her.
Phishin At The Creek
by
Deborah Machon
Written for Nuvo Newsweekly, issue: July 6-13, 2000
July 9, 2014
Disclaimer: Searching through my “Hopeless Chest” I find a souvenir of my life. My first published story I hardly ever read because I knew it sucked. The artwork is offline and the colors have yellowed a bit. This story was the only cover story I ever did in my life and was lucky Nuvo even let me write it after presenting the idea, since I was not a writer on staff. It took me weeks to write and had to be really cleaned up by editors. There was also things I wanted to say that I could not due to word count requirements and lets face it, I over describe stuff and repeat myself, repeat myself.
So here, almost 16 years later I think, fuck it. I will just re write the story the way I would have written it and take out the narcissistic need to promote a certain person in it who I once loved, who later kept over 25 bundles of 50 each of this issue, so he could someday sell them on Ebay to Phish fans. He hauled them all the way out to Seattle and kept them in basement. I got tired of his hoarding AND thinking he was going to sell my papers and my story. I was the distribution manager for awhile and he only got those because I gave them to him. So years and years later in Seattle, he went to see some Nascar race out of town. I was pissed at him so while he was gone, I took everyone of the bundles to be recycled. *Except for the numerous ones we used to kill our lawn in Seattle to create a garden. It’s easy really and not chemically harmful. You take newspaper. Cover the area of grass you want to kill with many layers of papers. So we used this story as the ground for a garden. Then you cover the whole area with tons of mulch. Voila! A few weeks later, you have fertile soil to plant living things like stick trees from The Arbor Day Foundation.
I did give Charlie two copies to save and two for myself. It’s always good to let go of the past.
What’s this got to do with the story. Nothing, but I’m in charge this time and I can be whoever I want to be. Even if I’m just some cell dancing in the light.
That’s the kinda writing Nuvo never cared about nor has anyone else, yet.
p.s. I don’t care about typos and incorrect grammer and neither did Kerouac. That’s not my job. I’m lucky I had the attention span or interest to retype this ancient attempt at trying to express myself starting at 6:30 am. Three hours of work. And people don’t understand why some writers make a shit load of money. It’s hard work to sit in a freaking chair for hours and constantly edit yourself and focus on nothing else. I’m exhausted.
That scene from ‘When Harry Met Sally’ when Harry insists he knows when women are faking orgasm and Sally suddenly proceeds to indulge him in a pretend ‘Le Petite Mort.”
Watch out Sally….soon there is going to be a machine in the room that will pick up your magnetic brain waves and expose for once, your efforts to make him happy by faking it to get it over with.
Why fake it if you can make it?
If he can see the effect that magic shaft has on you, on a scale on the ceiling for example, ..well ego will surely take over. He won’t quit til he’s got it right. Let him figure it out. Why does any of this matter?
Well, I found it’s the best way to travel.
First class really.
How did I figure this out? Talking to girlfriends and my own experiments.
Well, just before my own solo explorations, I close my eyes, aim my trajectory towards the worm hole and hope for the best rift in space time my tiny mind can see.
Next thing you know, the military will be trying to use orgasm as a weapon. Oh, that will stop crime in a light moment won’t it? Like, let’s make an orgasm gun! You shoot it at bad guys and they get high, get hungry and fall asleep.
NASA is more forward thinking. They are using it for rocket fuel to send the first couple to Mars silly!
I like how James Callis explained the information he read in a physic book, helped him play his character with #6 in Battlestar Galactica. Because Baltar was right, I had to buy that book. Can we tap into other dimensions while we are alive? It’s certainly interesting to ponder. It might explain schizophrenia, even, Or magic. I like the idea of God being a wiccan.
In Micho Kaku’s book Parallel Worlds, he talks about other dimensions and ways to get there. I heard him say once, some wormholes are so small they exist on your own clothing! Whaaat???. I have this book but never read it. Funny I found it at all considering I can’t see to read. what energy was making this happen? Coincedence. I had a #6 in my own head before I saw BSG, so you can see why I was so glad someone ask this question and thankful for his answer and the role in fact. It affected me deeply. But he is an actor with a voice in his head. I have been a woman with a voice in my head. So we are worlds apart.
Can anyone find page 118 & 1/2? I think I’m looking too hard…
I’m kinda understanding what Kaku is theorizing, but now all this opening has given me a headache and the White Rabbit song by Jefferson Airplane is in my head.
How much more curiouser and curiouser I become when it’s a coincidence and synchronicity that feels like God and that offers me a lesson Physics. That’s what I called meaningful. Not some boring coincidence where you were thinking of a friend and they called. This is like, a call from something bigger from a place that’s not on the map yet and you learn something you thought you might never understand and realize it’s as simple as a child’s tale. Go ask Alice indeed.
Sometimes “our thoughts are too big for our size” but this actually makes sense as crazy as it seems. We could all be doing it all the time and not even realize it. i make my own thought experiments. I notice connections and let me say as you get older they get more and more intense and come one after another on some days when even the radio is matching my thoughts and when I’m in this space, I ask for guidance and see if I can affect t he quantum field. It’s about getting still, watching for signs, experiencing pain, noticing miracles and seeing auras around trees and really looking at everything as if seeing it for the first time. Mostly, I ask for protection and I open myself to guides and good spirit beings to talk to me now. Before I ran from these things. I now see I just didn’t have my inner antenna tuned quite right. Deepak Chopra says that when we become enlightened our environments are play things. If your wanting to see a hummingbird come up to your feeder, sit quietly and ask it in your mind to come now. That shit works. Especially on dogs. My dog and I talked without talking all the time as I do with my grandson of three months.
I personally feel each one of us has own own broadcasting system with a unique call sign and those that we know from other places bigger than ourselves, kinda remember too and their broadcasting system seems to be able to pick up our own unique signals. Of course the internet has jumped us way ahead as now information you might never have been taught or books you didn’t know about in a library you no longer go to, has connected us in real time it’s kinda another dimension and it’s floating around the earth but we just don’t see it nor do many of us think about that.
Of course if your sitting on the couch, drinking sugary soda watching Extreme Couponing (which everyone on there says Qoupon, which drives me mad because there ain’t not fraking Q in the word coupon!) I have even heard radio announcers say it that way) and while your making your kids cut coupons for fifty more bottles of bad shampoo and your husband is out hunting with the boys, you probably have no fraking clue what an extraordinary concept to these things are to wonder about. In fact, your not even reading this at all. What are I talking about. How the hell do I know. I’m not sure any of us do…but we feel something, some of us, ask Edgar Mitchell the astronaut. He did his own thought experiments in space with trusted friends on the ground, but told no one else. When he got up there, he felt suddenly enlightened and something he could not explain. A deep connection that we were all connected and they now all that the Overview Affect. I believe I read that for a long time they kept it secret that the other astronauts on that flight felt something too. Nasa wouldn’t dare to speak about that, even if they were interested, because they could not explain why rational scientist could feel something while being out in space that we can’t feel on this gravity laden ground. Maybe the further you go out, the more your brain begins to use it’s real powers. Like telepathy. Sadly, due to a time schedule change on the craft, Edgar’s psychic messages to friends on the ground could never be confirmed.
Yet, even with the time change, there was something special but spooky going on out there for him. He is my hero. There is not a word invented to be able to make others feel this when it happens to you. Similar to why you can’t tell someone about your deja vu, they can only listen, they can’t feel it. It’s our souls experience and only for us. That’s why we need to trust our intuition more. Could there wormholes in our brain? Maybe that’s how Caprica 6 got into Gaius Baltar’s head?
Understand this, becoming enlightened is trippy…scary and fun….it’s beyond telepathy. And for me, Shrinks tried t kill that. That’s why anti psychotics are so dangerous to me. They took away my reception to God and feeling. PSA. Sorry.
No doctor can understand this statement.
I feel……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..!
Sadly many of us are sleep walking intellectually. Many are just too lazy to use more of their brain to try to understand something that can help them feel less alone and free themselves from the bondage of what is not reality at all which is shopping, consuming, destroying nature, believing in religions that practice fear and sin and forgetting we all live on the same blue ball. “How can any one tiny atom like ourselves sin against such a force of nature?” Ramtha
If all we try to see is connection, you WILL suddenly see them. You will want to run away from it at first because it can be overwhelming, but with practice, it’s easy and then things start to shift. Life becomes lighter and fear goes away. But you have to stay focused and also maintain balance in our bodies and in our world. We can’t life in the wormhole all day. We have bills to pay, but we can practice anytime as it’s always around us.
We have to remain open to that which we don’t really understand and be ok with it, even if it’s too big for one to ever understand, learn, let go. pray, get answers….I think we all, everyone, evil people who were once babies all play a role somehow. I don’t believe in hell, except the hell that is here on Earth. The sad stuff. I believe we pass away to another dimension. Science proving more and more, that there is a heaven, and life without fear and we can create our own reality after shedding these biodegradable body suits we put on at birth.
Why do some people seem so familiar, but you have never met them?
I never imagined that the idea of the wormhole to another dimension was introduced by Lewis Carroll in Through The Looking Glass.
Be as little children said Jesus….they understand because they just got to this realm and have no judgement. Often we are raised to forget our miraculous presence and that we never stop learning we just more tired and are afraid to die.
Update:
🙂
July 4, 2014
As I re read this post I can now say I have found page 118 and 1/2. I have also read the real pages since then and dam I’m sorry it too so long but my excuse is I can’t afford my glasses, I have the fraking frames and I love them, but the insurance does not begin to cover the cost of the lens and I won’t shop at walmart, Public Service Announcement.
….. where was I? oh yea, I have been throwing around the term Quantum Entanglement on many of my posts in this bog I started two years ago I’m not sure now. I tagged all the love stories that way not knowing why. Just liked the words I guess.
I got some dollar store glasses and still didn’t read it until recently. Here is why.
1. I’m not too bright and terrible at math and I might not understand any fraking thing he would say and then the person from my other dimension would think me not too bright as he watched how I looked at it, but would not pick it up. (hey now, I can only handle one signal at a time here ) So to help my focus, I smoke weed, then theories that seem to big to comprehend become manageable. Blatant Public Service Announcement: Pot makes you more open. It made me smarter, but it also make me so open that I’ve felt like I was floating away, so yea, dumb people don’t smoke pot unless they ground their first chakra beforehand.
2. I was scared that I might actually understand it! Which brought all the religious themes and how this information could be feed to fundamentalist. It might make me also feel not of this Earth. Like, you know, only hybrids get it. I don’t like LSD. It felt like information was not coming to me in a linear way, it was segmented for along time. Then I got back into Sci Fi. Because after meds I needed some mind bending exercise and loved to watch the BSG panels…
to change the subject…
Ok, like just because The Bible says jesus is coming back and there is a heaven and there are angels, and suddenly you see a man who reminds you of jesus is suddenly pushed into your life by synchronicity and coincidence and ironically is simply explaining his take on Quantum Physics. But the closed down fundamentalists who don’t budge on their book can see that heaven is beyond their understanding and that angels, can also be called guides/
(by the way to the idiot that tried to comment on my blog about how he didn’t believed in spirit guides but instead believed in the bible and angels. What? Really? Dude, get a thesaurus. Science is talking about the same thing just using better vocabulary.And all kinds of people who believe in God, who have had near death experiences see tunnels of light. How are we not saying the same thing!?)
And, if all the Christians keep saying Jesus is coming back and he did, how do they expect he should arrive? If he came through another vagina and said it was him, you would not believe him because your pea brain thinks he is coming back On a cloud coming down from the sky with trumpets. to be mean this time and only take you!? Whatever..
Plus he would still be a hippy so people wouldn’t listen and plus if the military saw something on the radar, they’d just send a drone to shoot him down again.
What if Jesus’s descendents are everywhere and the Bible has never been updated because he Church didn’t want anyone to know that he was not the only son of God. That he was mortal like us, but God like like him. And God forbid Jesus ever had sex! What if there are secrets left in hiding as to protect him and his this time from the very ones who are waiting for him only to condemn him/her again because they don’t believe it’s actually him? God is everywhere because maybe MARY was pregnant and someone hid her away as we have all heard, and that the enlightened ones have his DNA?
Huh? where the hell was I?
See. That’s why I why I delayed the read. So if a tiny brain has gotten this far in this post, there is still a chance for you. Jesus could be a movie star or rock star or the homeless man in the street. The Bible is fine and I like the red words, but Jesus is already here, and some of him are hers and they keep quiet because like John Lennon said, “Lord, they gonna crucify me.” 😦 To quote some chapter with some man’s name, “Heaven is here on Earth.” I found Deborah in the Bible. Apparently us Deborah’s love to kick ass and lead armys. That peg her friend drove into that one guy’s head, maybe that was a metaphor to stop shrinks from lobotomizing our brains so we can’t see God or feel our intuition anymore because of these bad drugs.
Look in your pocket ya Bible thumper. I gave you a joint after you smoke it, look into your pocket again and you might see a tiny wormhole, and no that’s not a moth’s doing.
4. I forgot the most important reason: Quantum Entanglement. So I thought before I read it maybe romantic love or the overused soul mate term is actually science. Maybe we know one special soul through eternity but we don’t always find them when we reincarnate if we have to that is….that we make up a plan before we are born and come back to life kinda not remembering each other but feel some life long pull for something you think you choose before your got here and you both play hide and seek with each other, but don’t know your doing it. Sometimes these souls were our brothers, or sisters, or fathers. But souls who are in love, are forever in love in eternity I least that’s my wish.
That’s why I played pretended that I wished I was a theoretical theorist in this blog not knowing shit really. As I read I learned, Quantum Entanglement has to do with atoms and how they behave when separated by distance. I think it might have been Einstein that explained it like this. You take a pair of gloves. One glove is indigo and the other is green. You put each one in a separate package and send it to two people, maybe a man and a woman who have never met, at least in this life, time. They both know they are getting a package and they are separated by long distance…and they know it will be a glove, one will be blue and the other indigo. So the packages are both delivered at the same time and opened at the same moment, so at that exact time when the woman opens up her package and sees an indigo glove, she knows instantly that some man somewhere is opening the other package of the pair and his glove is green. He also knows this of her. Can you call that telepathy? Einstein called it Spooky Action at a Distance. I admit, that whole diatribe just now could be completely, wrong. 🙂
and the kicker..the scientists know that if one atom is spinning in one direction, at that moment they know exactly what the other atom is doing even though its far away. When I read that my heart started beating hard and I got really lucid and thought, true love must feel like that. And just after that thought I read a quote by a professor from Wales who waxed poetic in, in a Kaku’s book no less…..omg…that…
‘Quantum Entanglement, can be compared to two lovers who know each other so well, even though they are separated by great distance, know exactly what the other one is thinking.’
At that point I had to put that book down and stared out into nothingness and bliss. It was profound and a moment I will never forget… but oh so hard to believe but not really….I almost couldn’t breath. Instead of freaking out a bit, I tried to look at it like a child and thought maybe this is magic…..
…..oh well, whatever and went and got a cigar. Mind officially blown. It was suddenly so strange, that I had just been playing with that word for shits and giggles never bothered to google it or read that dam book I bought cheap on amazon.com. Michio Kaku, Parallel Worlds. (commercial)
…. and in the end realized I was a fucking genius for a moment and didn’t even know it!
Now I have a whole new problem, and it’s a tiny one. I think I got the package, but his got lost in the mail and and no one ever told him it was coming anyway because although I can feel someone, I don’t have confirmation from him because I know he didn’t get the package. By the way, I got a D in science so I’m sure I don’t have any clue what’s really going on, except I’ve been told I was hearing voices is bad, mmmmm k?
Maybe I will ring up the proper authorities and try to track his package. I have the tracking number. If he doesn’t get it, maybe it will arrive in the dimension that exists in that one shoe you always see on the side of the road. 🙂
That’s when I will go back to God and wait for him to figure it out. God + Science = Peace
Here is something that might explain why Science and God can be friends.
It’s taken several weeks to get to this point but finally I reach the end..
….of what?
Battlestar Galactica.
Popping the cork on a lovely little bottle of Shiraz for the final three episodes, it may have taken me several years to jump on this bandwagon and strange since I don’t have a TV?
Where is this synchronistic signal coming from?.
….don’t know what happens yet, but in a few hours I will.
I celebrate my unwanted narcissistic hero Gaius Baltar still breaths nearby. Dr. Baltar and I would make a lovely pair as we can both appreciate the math involved with hyper-dimensional lovers.
So similar we are..clever, crazy and harem owners to boot. My harem is small compared to his as so far I have had only one flagship member.. EddieVedder20.
It twas not until I saw this Portlandia skit of Battlestar Galactica that peaked my curiosity.
Those bastards down in Portland have downloaded my deepest fears.
IFC must hold some sacred knowledge of my inter-dimensional consorts being that Yet another member of my multidimensional para physical harem has made a cameo appearance in a Portlandia skit. This phenomenon is largely indigenous to the Pacific Northwest and I apparently am not the only one picking up the dampened signal.
Vedder mocks me in my left brain…
Baltar’s whispers finally become audible in my right…..
(pssstt! over here. dump him darling. date me. I’m a nice Gaius AND a Dr. 2!)
Baltar laughs, responding directly to Vedder20.
“Sir, when we know what we are, then we can find the truth about others,
see what they are, the truth about them.
And you know what the truth is?
The truth about her?
About you?
About me?
Do you?
The truth is, she is perfect, just the way she is.
“You had me at the pinstrips.” …..so say us all…
Press Release:
“After a twenty year halo deck relationship with Vedder20, rumors have it that the 2 are now estranged as our lady fair has changed her name to WestSeattle8 and writing a new episode of Dr. Who with Pete Townshend.
She is currently seeking a grant to develop a juicer that will help her locate Baltar, as the HaloDeck she was previously using…was not programmed with the data regarding cannabis and it’s quantum atomsmashers that explain same sex marriage, spiraling string theory entanglements and where that one shoe on the side of the road came from.
Vedder20’s statement to the fact was “mumbled per usual.”
The lady stated that should Davy Jones reanimate himself and show up in a Portlandia skit, she will pursue legal action claiming…No to cacao.
I didn’t remake this photo from Portlandia, a friend did it for me.
I found this essay below about Eddie Vedder and it started me to think…..
I was wondering how all these women who love Eddie Vedder’s music, keep their boyfriends or husbands from being jealous of their attraction to the man’s art?
I’m sure there is a bunch of “man love” for Ed out there, but I found this essay by a guy named Jason who feels somewhat threatened by his girls “attraction” to Ed.
Of course if your relationship is bad, it’s bad anyway and anything could mess it up, I guess, including a singer song writer.
I can kind of see his point. I found the following on the Pearl Jam message pit. Sorry Jason, I couldn’t ask permission, but it’s out there anyway. Interesting point made. Tongue and cheek?
I just like him because he is such a father figure, all women dig Eddie’s charismatic pull that’s humble at the same time. A view on life where he is on the woman’s side. Should a guy get upset about this? Apparently this Jason dude did. This guy might be British. He called us women, “birds.”
It’s not that Eddie’s perfect, he is just perfect at what he does.
Eddie Vedder is Trying To Cut Your Lunch
by Jason ?
2/12
“Brothers, I’m sad to report that Eddie Vedder has been trying to steal our girlfriends since early 1991. It dawned on me this morning while making breakfast for my girlfriend and I in the sunny kitchen of our home. The Pearl Jam song “Black” came on the radio and the love-of-my-life immediately began singing softly along as she flipped through the morning paper. “So what?” You say.
I’ll tell you so what: besides “Like A Prayer” my girlfriend doesn’t know any songs! She’s one of those peculiar people who don’t really take that much notice of music. She likes it, sure, and she can dance like Ginger Rogers; however, she doesn’t catalogue bands, albums and tracks in her head like the rest of us do. She doesn’t really care. So there she is, absentmindedly warbling along with Eddie: “I know someday you’ll have a beautiful life, I know you’ll be a sun in somebody else’s sky, but why, why, why can’t it be miiiiiiiiiiiine.” And suddenly I’m struck with the chilling, revelatory horror that Mr. Vedder has been trying to make off with all our birds since he first came on the scene in 1991.
Let’s deconstruct good ol’ Eddie, shall we? For a start, he’s good-looking in that far-away-eyed, damaged man-boy way that girls really like. They think they can fix him, or, more accurately, he makes them think they can fix him. But they can’t; the big lug ain’t even broke. Next: his deep-ass voice. What do we equate a deep voice with? Anyone? Anyone? That’s right, a massive ___ . Why do you think James Earl Jones gets so much ___ ? Because he did all those Verizon commercials? Wrong. It’s because his deep baritone is directly proportionate to the length and girth of his wang. This is the reason Michael Cera has never pissed crooked in a stranger’s bathroom; no one wants to make it with Mickey Mouse.
So he’s got a deep voice and he’s handsome; big deal, lot’s of rock stars fit that description. They do, yes. But they don’t write lyrics like Eddie, do they? And this is the tent-pole that supports my entire hypothesis. Most rock stars write songs about falling in love or breaking up, ___ , fighting, whatever, but Eddie Vedder writes songs about women who are miserable and need to move on to something better. Take the song “Why Go” from Pearl Jam’s first album, Ten.
“She seems to be stronger
But what they want her to be is weak
She could play pretend
She could join the game
She could be another clone.”
Granted, this song is about mental illness or something, but you have to read between the lines: Eddie is on her side. He can see how “they” are keeping her down, how “they” want her to be “weak.” Who are “they”, you ask? He’s talking about every other man on earth besides his good, chivalrous self. Sound far-fetched? Okay, what about this sly piece of trickery from Pearl Jam’s second album, Vs?
“She holds the hand that holds her down.
She will rise above.
Don’t call me daughter, not fit to…”
That’s only the tiniest snippet of the song “Daughter”, but it’s pretty obvious that Eddie is trying to brainwash our women into spurning their fathers (or father-figures) and running to him for paternal comfort. I mean, what the fuck is wrong this dude? He’s clever; I’ll give him that. Attacking the delicate and ambiguous arena of Father-Daughter relations is about as low as you can go, but let’s face it, if you’re trying steal the heart of womankind you may as well begin at the bottom and work your way up, just like those delightful Hookworm larvae do.
If you’re not yet convinced that Eddie Vedder wants to pilfer your chick, this next piece of evidence from Vitalogy will certainly change your tune.
“Waitin’, watchin’ the clock, it’s four o’clock, it’s got to stop.
Tell him. Take no more. She practices her speech as he opens the door, she rolls over…Pretends to sleep, as he looks her over.
She lies and says she’s in love with him, can’t find a better man…”
How’s that last line? “She lies and says she’s in love with him, can’t find a better man…” Are you fucking kidding me? He’s planting that shit in your girlfriend’s head right in front of you on prime-time radio! The bastard has imposed an international curfew on dudes! 4AM? Who hasn’t gone out and come home that late? You only have to do it once now, and she’ll get that song in her head and start looking for a “Better Man”! And gee-whiz, I wonder who that better man is?
Piss off, Vedder. I’m watching you.”
Science Goes On - A Blind Date With God 
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