I finished reading Slaughterhouse-Five on a Sunday night.
Monday morning, the better half informs me of weird bed-side behaviour and ramblings about time travel.
I then flip through my phone, and realise I'd typed this out in the "Notes" section, reproduced verbatim (except for the timestamp bit; that was generated by the phone)
What. The. FRACK?!
Dear Mr. Vonnegut: what have you made me smoke, and may I please have some more?
Monday morning, the better half informs me of weird bed-side behaviour and ramblings about time travel.
I then flip through my phone, and realise I'd typed this out in the "Notes" section, reproduced verbatim (except for the timestamp bit; that was generated by the phone)
Date: Monday, 20th June, 2011
Time: 00:21
Time is like a fractal tree. The past is always the trunk, the future always the branches, and the present is always the junction of the two.
To the simple mind, time can be visualised as an endless 3-dimensional matrix of amber. And every moment of our lives is captured in it as bugs. Except we are all the bugs, in every direction. But our actual physical manifestation can only be one point in time, because is is not a spatial dimension!
This seems to make sense at some points, but is also disturbingly out of reach to my conscious mind and brain. Hence recorded here.
What. The. FRACK?!
Dear Mr. Vonnegut: what have you made me smoke, and may I please have some more?
