This is not about what I produce....

...It is all about what others receive.

So it's been a while since I've written a blog so I'll probably be a little rusty at it...if that's even possible. A lot of stupid shit has been going on so I felt that I needed to take a break so I could focus my mind on shit. On a side note I made vanilla coke today and it's actually pretty good. But I thought since my twin was a little off yesterday and decided not to write poems I was going to post one of my favourite ones. A poem called Information by Daniel Donahoo. I've made a video to go along with the poem in a spoken-word form.

Here is it written out.
She closes the lid
and unplugs the device
no bigger than her thumb
from the computer.

My life's work, she says. But, it isn't her life's work.

You see, we store information like an Escher painting.
It shouldn't all fit in there. But, it does.
And every day we manage to fit more and more into smaller and smaller spaces until one day
she says,
we will be able to fit all the information the world has
everything that everyone knows and believes and dreams
into nothing.

It will all be there. Stored and filed.
Tagged with any keywords you might imagine.

Our hard drives will be thin air.

They will make nanobots look like elephants.
And elephants will be in there too. Tagged. Accessible with search terms
like grey, ivory,
and the largest land dwelling mammal

We will process away at nothing and understand everything.
We will think of a word and the information will slip in, not through our ears or eyes
but straight thorough our skin. Information will breathe in and out of us,
permeate our skin.

Our knowing will be as deep as it is wide.
You see our work here is to learn so much,

to be so full of knowing,
that all there is left to do is unlearn.

Humanity must get to a point where we let go.
We leave the useless ideas and the spent ideologies in the recycle bin.
like an adolescent brain shedding neurons.
like a snake slithering from its old skin.
like an old man who has come to understand so well the point where reality meets the intangible that he is able to decide which breath will be his last. And, he will enjoy that breath more than any that he has taken in his entire life.

And, her life's work is more than a four meg flash drive.

My life's work, she says, is the impact that this has.

This is not about what I produce. It is all about what others receive.

So since I'm kinda back off my little hiatus I'll leave you with this little tidbit of a post until I write a bigger one. So until than. Take care mah fuckas.



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