Skip to main content

Spukhafte Fernwirkung

I, myself, am at the heart of it.
So, let us begin somewhere in the middle.
Later on, they will remember how it started.
We all know that the end will take care of itself.
Not deja-vu - evaporating uncertainty.
Not vertigo – retro-causality.
We interact + you become us + I am ensemble.
I know you have violated the sanctity of our experiment.
Bob has danced with you before.
We become arbitrarily distant at each interaction.
You have consistently disobeyed local realism.
Received by the observer - your particles still spin.
Subsequently, we all know what the results will be.
Bob can not win.
There is; no magic communication,
no uncertainty about a system in a pure state.
I, alone, with your unsurprising purity, our unity.
Entangled then separated,
we miss you Alice.
##

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Shitty Excerpt:

 Foremost in my mind was the fact I was dope-sick. There was another insistent pressing matter building in intensity to be taken care of before I could get well.  I am not a puker. I am a shitter. When I am dope-sick, I am an everlasting fountain of filth. Hauser knows this about me. I assumed his witnessing of my tormented face was why he motioned to the shadowed corner of the room behind him, indicating a hall stretching into the home somewhere beyond the vanishing point, and said, "Second door on the left." I shuffled and shambled in what, to me, was observed as an infinitely slow progression, wherein my range of motion was limited due to cramps. I tried desperately to make it to the bathroom quickly while at the same time being careful in my movements, endeavoring to, for now, at least, constrain my bowels. I am sure Hauser saw all of this only as a momentary blur of motion, if he noticed it at all. Eventually, I made it down the hall and into the aforementioned room, for...
2 comments
Read more

Our first real submission :) I will figure out a better way to acce[t them sometime soon.

 Submitted by Wendy: I can barely walk. Putting one foot in front of the other takes about all I have. So tired, weak, and disoriented, I perceive what is directly in front of me as if through a veil of thick mucus. The world is dim and unfocused. Wait, something is flashing red, insistently, at the far-right corner of my vision. Instinctively, I turn toward it, and I am instantly rewarded. I see some movement, and I hear a commotion and voices. I decided to aim my stumble over there, where the action is. Something is telling me I somehow made this happen. I made the red light lead me, so I follow it mindlessly through this maze of fog. I am reminded of an experiment I saw in a documentary featuring a flying beetle. It had been glued to the head of a stationary pin. Electrodes had been inserted into its simple nervous system. By activating one or another of the electrodes, the beetle would attempt to turn towards the stimulus, flapping its useless wings harder or softer depending u...
Post a Comment
Read more

VPWWG1WGA!:

 VPWWG1WGA!: Landry-- “Vice President Smith, I am a big fan; it’s wonderful to see you here today.” I knew Jeff Smith’s face from his blog. I had never before met him in the flesh. He paused, looked me right in the eyes, then touched the frame of his smart glasses a few times and said, ‘Great to see any of my followers here. I knew I could count on you, Vice President Landry Jones.’ I was thrilled he had recognized me, even if it was with the aid of his digital assistant. It must have matched my face up with his subscription list, another reason to be glad I wasn’t wearing a mask. I had been one of his first couple of thousands of his followers. There were a lot of VPs in attendance at this rally. Many of them were there to see the boss, President Carlson, and all of us VPs were there to see Vice President Flynn. After all, ‘Where We Go One, We Go All,’ and all of us were one with Flynn, and Flynn was one of us. So, the way I, and a lot of people like me, see it, we were all second...
Post a Comment
Read more