As I read the various posts and blogs on this forum, the concept of Existence comes to mind frequently. Without realizing it immediately, I had an epiphany. It came from brainstorming a way for the AI in my story to resolve human belief in a Creator. It came from a thought on Occam's Razor a machine could accept, 'simple explanations have the greatest probability to be correct'.
If something has a beginning, it has an end. If something exists without a beginning, it is outside of time - Eternal. Our existence, the Universe, had a beginning and must have an end. Therefore, the steady-state of existence must be oblivion, a timeless Void. An external immeasurable operator must exist to express the imbalance that is our transitory existence. An Eternal Creator must exist. An equally immeasurable Void suggests the probability that other Eternals may also exist in the Void. In the infinite, the probable becomes eventual.
An ultimate mystery to be solved. Now that's a reason to exist! Have fun!
(this is stolen from (Richach?) blog, but it was written by me in a comment there. I place it here, so I won't forget the trane-of-thought. This should probably be its own thread.)
Art is an expression that produces a reaction. That's all I remember from my Art 101 class in college.
So, fiction is art.
I too am frustrated with the academic process of producing that reaction. It seems to rub against our nearly genetic oral tradition. Telling a story was a performance, an experience shared with the audience. They could see your face, gestures, and hear intonations. The storyteller enjoyed the interaction. In writing, that is lost. Try singing a song in writing. Lost. You can convey reactions and emotions, but you'll never hear music.
Even if your writing succeeds in producing a reaction, you rarely know it other than sales or reviews. Most of us never get that far.
Sometimes, it seems like all we have is each other, yet each other seems more of a guild than a platform. "In order to be recognized, you must be one of us." Our cry for attention is answered by a litany of hoops to jump through.
Then we come to the Interwebs, the kindergarten playground. A battlefield, the soul-crushing grinder of our pleas and dreams, for the entertainment of the cruel and brutal.
But what about the story? How do we know if our idea is worthy of attention before we jump through the hoops and turn our souls over to the Guild?
What about the story?
Crispy Thinkafried expressifications!
Proliferous pundits pontificationalisms!
Money is made to be spent, a medium of exchange. It is not supposed to rust, like an unused tool. It should come with an expiration date. We absolutely need to spend it if we have it. Be rich! Not Wealthy! Wealth = Death. I recommend spending wisely, but the machine cares not how it is fed. In fact it only cares when it starves, and then it's too late.
I'm house-poor, meaning my money is spent before I get my hands on it, and I rub the same two nickels together as the poor-guy with two nickels. In the grand scheme, we could trade places, but there would be no difference, except he would realize he still only has two nickels to rub together.
Buy the boats, the cars, the houses! Keep the tool sharp! If I gave you a footbal stadium-full of nickels, you could still only rub two of them together. Rich is fine. Wealthy means we're doing it wrong. If you hold on to enough money to crush you under it's weight, you should drag it through the streets like a cross, until, you've spent yourself from the burden of it. No cheating, no giving it away. Fair value for fair service. Redistribution of wealth isn't the issue. It's the existence of wealth.
If you're a billionaire with only two nickels to rub together, you're doing it right. Keep everything you get with money, just not the money.
I'm just glad to be rid of those nickels. (Shhh! Don't tell anyone I gave them away.)
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