Another excerpt from the first book in the “The Spaces Between” series, as mentioned in a previous post. As H.P. Lovecraft once wrote, “The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them…”
It strikes me as curious that as a species, we have developed a massive industry centered around keeping ourselves entertained. When you think of times and places where you would feel a need to be entertained, it’s usually someplace where you would be otherwise bored, for example, waiting at the doctor’s office, waiting in line at the DMV, or waiting for your plane to land. So is the underlying truth that life is just… waiting?
2019 has arrived as inevitably as planned. Wherever you are, I hope the new year has been treating you well. For me, it is yet another reminder of the cold hand of death closing ever so slowly around my throat, but hey — that’s part of the fun, right?
Be forewarned: This is a space-filler post as I really have nothing to say today. I just haven’t blogged in a while. I had some laptop issues this month.
Do we choose what our interests are, or are our interests the product of our experiences? Or are we just hard-wired with a preprogrammed attraction to certain topics? I have no idea. And that is not the topic of this post. This post is about my problem. And my problem, as I have recently come to realize, is largely due to my interests. Read this one. It’s weird, and it’s personal.
Let’s revisit an old conspiracy theory from the 1990s: the terrifying mural at the Denver International Airport. Back in the day, it caused quite a stir. EVERYTHING at the then-newly-constructed airport had caused quite a stir. Looking back at the images now, in today’s American climate, is a little unnerving.
I had an experience over the past week that has distracted me from my series on transhumanism. In a way, however, the experience is related to the topic of transhumanism. Both topics are vast and can therefore be connected to any other topic imaginable. So if you will indulge me, I will ramble on at length about my odd weekend.
