I'm so weird.

Forgive me but I must have touch to fall in love.
The love, a gorge, while I zumba by its precipice.
But to see it is a chat, a virtue gain to love.
I wrote you a thousand times. Mon petite dulce.
La danse sacrée des sucrés dix-sept douce.

A secret night mass in the misty heart of a black forest
Under the prismatic diffusion of the light of the Moon
With a bucket full of stolen booze and bisuits and brownies
And a bubble-gum machine black spider ring of recycled polyethylene.
A backpack full of books no one else will ever be allowed to read.

A dress of Hot Topic velvet,
A leather strung pentacle medallion of sterling.
Curly red hair scented freesia,
And green, earth elemental green eyes.
A spirit full of wolf: teeth enlarged that pang for blood.

A kiss to me:
The fat of my neck.
"Oh, the dirty pleasure of thy love bite."
I grasp you passionately.

We settle down and gaze up at the Brigid Oak Moon
Describing all manner of pleasures and pain
Wafting like the scent of cherry pie or smoke
Upon the mana whispering in the trees in tip-tops,
and in the golden sparks of faerie dust
as they whip about the periphery of sight
and dash through inter-dimensional port holes.

A string that binds.
Really, just a visual aid, but
Ye to me it ties forever.
I can still feel you.
My heart still seeks you.
Maybe I will never truly move on.
I will certainly never replace you in my mind.
But I feel guilty.
I can love again, I know it.
But this shadow of yesterday dimmer is cast.
Makes me rush to love.
I may have loved a lifetimes worth already.
But that sounds like a self-fulfilling prophecy:
I simply must not believe it.

Yes I miss that bond.
I will never connect with anyone in quite the same way.
But I will love truly again.
This I believe.
But some very good years are behind me.
Seventeen was almost a lifetime ago.
I honor thee. You want me to move forward.
I can feel this in my bones.
You want me to find a worthy lover,
And while there are scores of candidates
A good fit is very rare indeed for me.


Methods for enumerating dimensional intersections

The 51st crease of the 6th to 9th dimensional vector.
Assuming there are 10 dimensions and we are assuming direct vector connection
between the 6th and 9th dimensions, as an edge of a 10-dimensional
hypercubic manifold, there are 10 minus 2 (the number of components in the
selected vector) factorial (for all permutations of intersection with
other 8 remaining dimensions by iterating through binary selection yeilds
the 51st datum of 8! items) 51 of 40320 with a lower bound of 0. 0 means
no intersections. The 51st binary permutation of the set {1, 2, 3, 4,
5, 7, 8, 10}. By choosing binary modality we get the enumeration 110011
or 32+16+3+1=51. The right-most binary numeral corresponds to the left-most
element of the set in one-to-one correspondance an intersection results in
the Turing subset {1, 2, 5, 7}.
The second method is iterative order, that is, to take all possible
single member sets (8 of them). Then 51-8=43. Then take all possible two
member sets which is 8*7 or 56. Since 43<56 therefore the 43rd member of
the set of two dimensional intersections, a set of sets: {{1, 2}, {1, 3},
..., {8,10}}. So the iterative answer is another Turing method:
1 {1,2}
2 {1,3}
3 {1,4}
4 {1,5}
5 {1,7}
6 {1,8}
7 {1,10}
This gets us to number eight so we can subtract n-1 from 43 until we get
a remainder and a quotient: 43-8=35, 35-7=28, 28-6=22, 22-5=16, 16-4=12,
12-3=9, 9-2=7, 7-1=6. So we result with the two-dimensional where the
members are the number of operations, the 8th, and the remainder, the 6
sixth. The result equals {A(6), A(8)} or {7, 10}. The 51st crease is an
intersection of the 6th, 7th, 8th and 10th dimensions.


Master P's Make Crack Like This: Perspective

Shout out to Master P with his tru ta da gizzame fa rizza splita chedda cheesey frito lay hopped up on government approved vitamin R, I have no blame but my own and I like where I'm at. Last semester I took these classes and I got two C's and two D's, but I swear to you I feel like a brand new man. I mean I think I actually studied so hard on those channels that my research was deep to the point where I was too busy studying hard copy data to work on the actual project. Any teacher will tell you that I did tons of research and developement outside of the classroom. If you read my posts from this blog you know that I have some pretty deep understandings of the universe. I am far better with al-litter-ation than rime, but so long my Soldiers, I've wept for your harder choice, to live closer to the gun. I am sorry but I knew and still feel that I have done far better work here teaching kids of all ages how to use the internet in Wisconsin. I am known as the father to my own style like Flava had flava like Milky Cereal, Baby. I'm all criss-cross and the boss and when the budget gets passed I hope cigarette taxes go down because I down here doing bitch work for football players and politians and everyone can clearly see why I'm different. I'm a buddhist in a christian black neighborhood and I was neither asian nor black. Over the course of ten years or so in the south side of Madison was changed from Namio's and Burr Oaks Bowl into what is now Harambee: even the old Open Pantry which was also a Sinclair and now contains a cellular shop.
I have been a programmer since I was born, I think. I remember setting digital watches for my stepdad Jim and his white truck driver friend Jimbo and my white Afro-crested Zappa freak uncle Art all worked together at the Madison Mushroom Plant on Baldwin Street. I was 4 years old. I think over by Madison Metro but there were a lot more trees and smaller row houses then, where now, after the plant closed in 86?, the nearest job to be found is the business incubator over by those incredible emu sculptures on the bike path.
The one that starts on the Wilson-Williamson spur and goes all the way out to an old haunt of mine. Once upon a time I was so determined to make my own way that I slept under the railroad bridge where it ducks under Aberg Ave, State 20, and pledge to spill my blood for the loss of my friend Malinda and a did indeed perform some kind of magic show with a rose that I had spray painted black as if to say, wherever you are, I shall morn for you, Lady.
Here I stay such a determined young man destined for some info-hack shrine of destiny. Man ever since eight years old I've had a computer keyboard, a music play button and a screen on button. I loved watching A-Team and Knight Rider but the one show that really creeped me out was Fall Guy.
I found my groove when I was 15 years old and I got to program some Chipmunk Basic, and within 6 weeks the instructor, George, came over and asked to see me after class. He invited me to join the AP Programming class, the second semester focused on learning the event-based programming techniques of Visual Basic 4.0. These days I like JSP, Java, PHP, Javascript, YAML, Perl, MS-DOS, Ubuntu, Debian Linux like Knoppix ( I love toying with my Hex-Editor. I remember complex save-game hashing that I decoded for use in the Diablo game. I've studyed 3D model-making and haiku and Nichiren Shoshu and Robert Oppenheimer and Subramanian Chandrasekar (see wikipedia:"neutrino stars", "quasars", "pulsars", "neutrons", "particle density", "dark matter", "event horizon", "heavy water").
I listen to Banghara-hip-hop from London, and pentacle-inverting metal from norway, but I sure wish they could express their sorrows in a more constructive arena. I just want use to pass out the meteor belt already. Cut it up into like 80 microparsecs between Mars and Jupiter, clearance must be prepared if Jupiter goes. Somehow we all seem to be playing a game with the very make up of the Earth, A smattering of souls to inhabit a precise location in the solar system. We must have access to the technology to robotically grab a chunk of iron off the planet Mars, or a chunk of a lake of 99% Ethyl Alcohol from a vent on Ganymede. I wonder how that will taste in 40 years from now. We've got an interplanetary mission to fulfill. Why? Because we can and we all need more guys like me who can think off the wall like this.
So with no further ado is my impression:
make crack like this is the song, but you won't be gettin' no money if yo shit be cooked wrong. overcook yo dope it might come out brown but green ya betta get clean outta town. I'm just tryin' ta put *****z in the game and tell ya howta..(powda) make crack from cocaine...,
Me, a young man. in the next door moved some gun-toting thugs from the R. South 74s ya heard, somethin' like that, and a cousin in St. Louis or 36s but I know the pain of the lost loved ones in the 80s and 90s. Let's all say a prayer and hope we have better days ahead of us. But let us observe the post-modern custom of recycling. Plant what is sowed. We must not forget to make it grow well. Preservation of newly discovered species should be at an incredible care since we all depend on doing more with less on this planet. We all should get along and respect eachother.
Ok, finally,
Make crack like this...X3
for music
i mean dope tapes
i mean this is how we would make it
make crack like this

Ghetto Dope
Thank you dope fiends for your support.
I mean real niggas.
That a make a dolla outta 15 cent
Ain't gotta job but a rock and pay the rent.
But nowdays I be too smart for the feds.
Overcook your dope it might turn out brown.
You get the baking soda, I gots the d.
Now your cocaine powder is crack and I hope you're strapped cause you might get jacked.
I had it all in to powder but it aint no thang
We some true Gs
If ain't about money then it ain't about me.
Seventeen a couple o.z.'s a triple beam.
Make crack like this.
Never let a nigga front you no dizzope
Show muthafuckas you bout it bout it
Never talk on the phone in your house
The next time you meet me you better have 20 ,G

One always deal with the nigga with the whitest snow.
Two don't buy from nobody that you know
Three get you to kitchen where the stove be
You get the baking soda
I gots da D