Sunday, January 29, 2006
I must be crazy. I don’t forward chain letters. There were a few times where I have (why should I lie about that?). In general, though, I don’t. I do not see how re-transmitting a stream of data conveying oftentimes useless information will bless me. I find it harder to believe that my non-participation will damn me. I believe my life will go as it is without some internet voodoo getting in the way. People who create chains are powerful, though. They create a virus and let it infect the public. It must be a game.
On to more important business–issues that may in fact change the outcome of your life. (I have just addressed you in the second person, reader. You are likely my friend.) I may have a small grasp on the mysterious ninth dimension. This dimension is of linear truth. The ninth dimension weighs down on our three and the other five via identity. Identity is a construct of the ninth dimension. Humans find it incredibly difficult to prove why something is itself. Common sense simply tells them it is. Common sense, for this matter, may be a sense like touch and smell. It feels the weight of the ninth dimension.
Identity is immensely complicated. Questions often rise in human minds along the lines of, “Why am I me?” or even, “Who am I?” I don’t know the answers. I ask these questions frequently. In the ninth plane lie the answers. All dimensions below the ninth begin to tell how something works, why it works, where it is, etc. The ninth tells what it is. Humans believe the question, “What?” is the most trivial, when really it is much more complicated than any other question. “Lines” that form in the ninth tell what I am.
I am afraid this new train of thought has brought many more questions into my head. For instance, what are the tenth and eleventh dimensions? If “lines” in the ninth tell what things are, then what do “planes” of the tenth and “solids” of the eleventh do? Probably some crazy shit. I leave full of thoughts, and I ask that you stay tuned should I make more progress in my theories.
Arthur Hovinc's Port Manteau 