My Mysteries unfold discussion

It's a mystery that the ocean at sunrise is blue and during the day it's green or ugly gray. But at sunrise take a jar down to the ocean and fill it with water and take it home. When you get home it will be mostly clear and transparent. The gremlins always steal the blue color on the way home. It's like they want you to look and not touch. And veins are not blue when they're removed. If I took a jar full of gases from the sun, I wonder if it would be yellow. I carry my paint box around and the colors of the paint don't seem to change much. I wonder why the gremlins are not interested in my paint box.

I've heard somewhere, "My sunshine, she turns my blues into red wines of my heart and my love, intoxication singing in colors arising with noisy joy." There is no rainbow without mist and mystery.

It's a mystery that no one can eat just one potato chip, although an ant can eat a crumb that has fallen from hard time tables, and no one can eat a poker chip at all.

Joyce wrote: "It's a mystery that the ocean at sunrise is blue and during the day it's green or ugly gray. But at sunrise take a jar down to the ocean and fill it with water and take it home. When you get home i..."

Maybe an ocean of blue paint would be more stable. Can fish swim in paint?

    It's a mystery that in "Short stories one word at a time" this sentence can be constructed which with a few commas I think holds together pretty well:

Now I walk near the dangerous war zone, laughing hysterically, feeding my appetite for intelligentsia fried in oily quagmire while those rodents flee away with the fleas so plagues are spread across Europe and Australia where the serendipitous reforms bring revolutions, revelations, stunning mankind, intrigued by inventions tunneling into psyches.

It's a mystery that we say "Have you seen the time?" when in fact we are all watching time slowly progress, so actually, we have all seen the time. But isn't time just an illusion? What even is time? The only way to keep track of time is to look at a mechanical object that is programmed to tick and tock but is it really measuring time? No. It is obeying the orders that we have given it, slowly moving at the exact speed that we call "seconds", "minutes" and "hours". But what even are those measurements based on? We say that a day is the rising and setting of the sun, but that is just the Earth rotating on an axis around a burning ball of gas. Is it really time? No. Time is merely a concept created to keep all of us sane for long enough to make it through our dull, painful lives. But then why is it that if you accidentally give yourself a paper cut, it hurts for a while, then heals? Why can't we just skip back a few hours and stop ourselves from getting a paper cut? Why are we locked inside these restrictive cages that stop us from preventing bad decisions? And if we are in cages, then who holds the key? Who can release us from our constant cycle of making mistakes, dealing with the disastrous consequences, then moving on like nothing ever happened? Will we ever be released? Or is this it? Is this what life is about? Have we finally found the meaning of life?

It really is a mystery.

Petitcroissant wrote: "It's a mystery that we say "Have you seen the time?" when in fact we are all watching time slowly progress, so actually, we have all seen the time. But isn't time just an illusion? What even is time..."

The fertilized egg is a mechanism of DNA and bio stuff and no brain and yet in time it will be making decisions. The decision maker, perhaps the soul, came out of nowhere in time, waiting somewhere(?), always existing before and after(?), and returns to nowhere. Time measures the number of events that occur. How many events occurred before the decision maker became extant? Which place is real -- the spiritual world of before material existence, or the events of the material world that can be counted? Like a dream, something that is unreal can be undone, or is a thought an event that can not be made to never have happened. Each event can be a measure of time so if there are real events then time is real. Comes down to: is a thought an event because it's a new creation of a decision maker or do we decide nothing. I think a headache is an event in time that this writing has given me. Seems real.
    If there is freewill then there is time because we are free to create something original that never existed before and any new thing that we create is a countable object. For each new object brought into existence an element of time has been created and existence has expanded. Mark this time as my philosophy birthday and maybe next year before the cake and celebration I'll be dead and reporting back at a seance with a new post.

I have seen time and it gave me a tic.

It takes time to bake a cake but there are no strings attached to icing. This is part of String Theory in 25 dimensions.

    It's a mystery that playwrights are misquoted and the wrong quote is the one that prevailing wisdom says is true
    Here is a quote that was never written, but often repeated:
"Music soothes the savage beast."

    This is the actual quote:

“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.”
     -- William Congreve

This is as confusing as chicken breasts without the nipple of kindness as Shakespeare said

Music in time beats the savage clock and glockenspiel spiel when xylophones are hammered abreast of the times that fail to soothe the Congreve grievance against the knotted oak and the Gordian knot of Alexander the Great.

I have seen the thyme of time the sages speak of and they can't dance.

I move time with my tongue and arm to strike the day like a bell that has a ring for me golden for her of the night who stops time for me as I soothe the savage breast.

hi

hi hi
time flies
like flies that bite.
(9/7? I must have lost 2 days)

So all the mysteries are gone and everyone knows everything, and in certainty there is war.

What happened to the other comments. This is a very bad omen. So I suppose everyone must leave?

Oh sorry. Never mind. I was looking at the wrong thread. I can't keep up with all the different groups and I'm having a hard time keeping up in various dialogues. Wow this is making me nervous -- so much banter where I can't tell which is humor and which is paranoia and which is just common ordinary hostility. I think I have at most ordinary hostility. Although love is my preference. It's just that anger is so much easier to express. Oh hell, I'd much prefer to love you whoever you are than to find something to shout about. When I shout I lose my voice. Maybe I should consider the things I say when I whisper. I can be soft if you will give me a pillow to dream with.

Oh God, now I do remember when I said "...in certainty there is war" there were other comments. Oh hell, so now I have to erase my goodreads account. Damn, I didn't expect such a quick catastrophe. This is not going well at all if things can disappear. Well I suppose that's par for the course and I should vanish forever. I guess I was right when I always thought I was nothing. Oh well, I suppose I should have been aborted, but a little hiatus for an ugly mistake. Let this be a lesson for you people: use condoms. Or you could wind up with me.

Oh geez I'm a mess; I posted twice and had a response in one place and not the other. I am so sad and so gone that I don't know where I am. I am so inarticulate in what I want to say that I'm flailing about with silliness and I can't see why death is not a good thing. I think I've tried and failed enough. I think a short wait to death would be better than a long walk off a short pier.

Oh sorry, I should make clear that I made a mistake and remembered wrong about what was posted where.

Its all good!