Midnight Pub ticked at the tocks ~inquiry how strange indeed a stray thought sailing towards the eye of the bull of time challenging that eye to show itself apart from my subjectively thinking it is is that why it flies when I'm having fun that is, for thinking of it less yet drags to the point of eternal damnation when so focused upon it that its sands refuse to fall? Write a reply Replies ~voidstar wrote: a watched pot never boils. a watched clock won't tock. ~kijetesantakalu wrote (thread): superimposed upon an unending matrix our linear regression of it makes note of our state can you fly without propulsion? can you act without impetus? can you will without thought? it is through this that sand etches away our mind the workings of it finely polished brass turning the hourglass of our own destruction ...of our own joy?