my brain doesn't work like others do. i think that this is true of all of us. for a while i used to worry about typing and talking in weird, convoluted sentences and phrases but i think it's just a way of being. in the end of things, there is a brightness here. that's what matters, i think, truly.
do they said, what it is that you need to do. what you would do if the revolution was won. what would i be doing when the revolution is won?
it's worth considering. all modes of being involve living. that's the hard part, i think. living, in the tickled sense, is a lot of being in my brain. moving out of it is hard.
i dreamed deep a few days ago about you and the things that you've told me. it's genuine, i need to embrace that. to trust my thoughts on these things. it didn't make me sad to see your future. i don't think it's a sad thing, i think it's perfectly normal. why do none of you remind me of me? or was seeing your future a bit like looking into my own? if not in this singular example, but as a hope that i will soon be able to reach as deeply into my own and see it, fully, in one singular prophesy.
i don't know if i write this way with the intention to hide, to not explain. this feels like the actual display of my interior thoughts, but composed in form. that seems hard to run from. that this is my idea, not so much of fun, but at least of being. this kind of writing is a way of being. it is a mental space that i can crawl into. i do worry about it being legible. i worry a lot. it is a deep stress that i feel as i write these words it's leaving me, leaving my body. or is it sinking even more deeply into the pit of my stomach.
this is something i don't talk or write about. that i'm afraid to. that's how i imagine the person reading these will feel about them. will they be comprehensible? is it possible to see?
there's two foreigners visiting town this week. both of them are natives of their own countries, yet they speak and express themselves fluently in english. they are a part of our world and our culture. have they always been online? is this what the future looks like? i worry for us, for this flattening. it flattens in some corners and hides itself in others, the culture does. what will happen to french on the internet? will it forever have its corner? how big is the 'french on the internet' corner, really? what about the japanese on the internet? or mandarin on the internet?
there are a lot of things i am curious about.
i do want to know what the web looks like. it's funny, when you call it a crawler because it's not actually crawling anywhere. it doesn't run or live or exist anywhere other than on your computer. rather than crawling the web it sends out http requests to every domain number that it finds.
there's actually multiple ways to crawl the internet, you know. i mean, none of them live on anywhere other than your computer, as far as i know.
the other way to crawl the internet would be to iterate through the entire public IP address space. you can just probe every single IP address and it's port at 80. i wonder if this is one thing that the new IPv6 space will make practically impossible. to what extent was the expansion driven by this need for deep internet surface.
it's incredible to think that the internet, the http port 80 world, is so large, really. the sheer amount of landscape that you can see buried in just port 80. there's 65 thousand ports per machine. the biggest one lives at 80 (though increasingly moving to 443).
it's weird to think that the bitcoin network exists as a set of nodes that are reachable through the internet, the DNS network. is there anything connected that isn't on the DNS network?
to some extent that's what the blockstream boys are working on. building out a portion of the internet that is outside of DNS, somewhat. or does it all, at its core, resolve to DNS?
i think it all resolves to DNS. which is absolutely bonkers when you think about it, how locked in to DNS we are. absolutely bonkers.
i wonder a lot what it'd be like to go back and learn about what the internet is now. these days. i have this really strong desire to go out and teach school children about the internet. this like, permanent camp or after school program that is all about unix and the internet. networking for children. we'd build spider nets and domain crawlers. we'd talk about how computers experience the world. we'd build ships and sail them into ports, like port 80. we'd learn about the diffie hellman key exchange and we'd build fortified 443's.
networking for children.
maybe they'd make friends in class. maybe they'd learn what it is to be a citizen on the internet. we'd learn about anonymity and the dark web and digital money. we'd learn about them as things should be learned, experienced.
there was culture then, back before the internet but it was shared and scoped in a much different fashion. what does that culture then, the kenny g's of the past, tell us to expect for our own future? what about boomer pain is a reflection of all of their fantasies? how does the old fantasy build itself into the pain and desires that they all feel now?
at what point is it our responsibility, as the adults of the now, to stop and put to rest the dreams of our old parents. we let them get away with more than they should. they've learned how to enslave us, have they not? bound to them for how long.
bound to them for how long.
back in the past your family was yours forever. you lived near them they were a part and parcel of your being. how much of belonging and being of the family is not being of your parents?
did the destruction of the clan serve to boost the patriarch, to the doubt and declination of all wider family as family. i'll, we'll, never know. my family wasn't bigger than my father, really for a long time.
i need to let these things go. just. let them go. stand up for myself and walk away from these other's dreams.
is kamasi washington just our generation's kenny g? i thought we were more and different and that those things would die but now i don't know any more.
god i really have to get out of here. more than i know but as every bit as much as i feel. this place is... bad.
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