A Tom Repasky has written many works of poetry, stories, quotes, research and white papers beginning in the 1970s. Much of which was on paper that long ago was discarded as trash by others. Some did get typed onto a computer however. He began using a computer for his writings in the late 1990s. His stories are metaphorical journeys exploring what life is like when you are using a machine like a Tom to view existence. I use A Tom to do the scribing. A Tom is my machine, the tool I use to interact with this Reality. He may appear creative but that is an illusion. He is just the scribe, describing the reality projected unto his mind by me. He continues to improve his skills. Expression is why I use a Tom. Learn more...
Something to say.
Existence is an interesting idea. If there is no one to observe only potential exists. Stuff coalesces as a sort of condensate, bound to an idea, formed by observation in the collapse of that potential. For some its a flicker, for others a grand affair of fireworks. Like drops of dew, effervescent and iridescent, the pools of potential, shimmer between moments, casting projections of reality unto the screens of consciousness. We emerge as adjusters, filters, self regulating perception machines, producing a consensus reality in a more or less continuous stream of possibilities mined from the pools of potential. Just as quantum effects are masked in the macro world, individual thoughts are lost in the consensus world.
Writing because it is useful
Many times I have written notes for myself. Little hints that I have been here before and that this is a good place to consume or not. This world, this planet, this time is a feast beyond recall. A celebration of existence and its child, life, the true father long forgotten.
There is no present. Just signals from the evaporating embers of then. Even the light, which bathes the planet, is from the past at least eight minutes old. Living in the present was impossible! A conundrum for sure. What exactly is the now we all believe we share as the present? Did it happen last week or was it last century? Even if it was mere milliseconds ago, it was then and not now. Do you suppose thoughts happen now or then?