Thursday, April 14, 2005
Static Thesaurus Science
I'm sitting underneath a blinking florescent light. It's trying to communicate a secret message to me in morse corde, but my eyes cannot discern its rapid flicker nuance. Nor can I write at hummingbird speed.
I could try to modulate my brain synapses into algebraic twinkle receptors and sublimate the information. As I absorb the alabaster light it would percolate in my subconscious, eventually floating to the surface of my mind like fart bubbles in the bathtub.
But I won't. That might cause permanent damage, and I'd become a peculiar rarity: a self-induced autistic. My whole body would become different modes of blink. Eyelids shuttering, tongue wagging, legs kicking, arms flexing. All while doing situps. Forever. I'd be a human cuckoo clock perpetually stuck at the top of the hour. I'd certainly die of malnutrition if I wasn't sedated and clamped to a plank.
Oh. It stopped. Back to solid glow. Now I'll never have a chance to figure it out. Were the bulbs asking for a new ballast? Perhaps the electricity was imbalanced and the tubes are in danger of sufferring a drastically reduced lifespan. I'm sort of glad it's over. It would be a shame if the message was so mundane.
I would've spend so much time deciphering the message with my magical cereal box decoder ring / brain. I would've proved the awareness and intelligence of inanimate objects. A breakthrough. Yet none of it worthwhile because of the pedestrian banality the light chose for its first foray into human communication. I'd be the laughing stock of the whitejacket community.
Nah. I'll just keep looking for aliens instead. 10:36 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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