J. R., this is one of the most beautiful pieces I have ever read on a list.
-Ken
"J. R. Molloy" wrote:
>
> Here's what it has to do with extropianism: I spent the last five hours
> fighting a forty acre wildland fire between Manton and Shingletown. I did two
> hose lays and watched while someone operated the pump. When I got back to my
> car, the battery was too low to crank the engine, and I had to call the
> station to get someone to come out and jump start it. While we're watching
> ants and fighting fires (and Brian Phillips is going on about his Dinner with
> Aztlan or whatever), Kurzweil, Hawking, and Minsky are trying to decide
> whether to build intelligent robots or cyborgs to take our places. Who cares
> what the neighbors think...We're all bozos on this bus. If extropy could talk,
> it would whisper in song like a morning breeze. If extropy could touch it
> would splash sweet lotion on my aching muscles, and the stream of it would
> soothe, refresh and delight. If extropy could see it would observe immense and
> timeless reveries of moonlit silence within each heartbeat, sturdy as earth
> and sea, and delicate as starlight reflected in a child's eyes. September's
> moon remembers shadows of the would-be-nows in feather-years of stillness and
> dismay. September's moon knows the stillness of the will-be-thens in vaulted
> unknown spaces of the bending land. September's moon knows the suchness of
> stretching fibers in a body singing the quiet ecstasy of its tired endless
> fullness. OK, I lied. It hasn't anything to do with extropianism, but maybe
> Minsky can work his sphexish emotion machine with it somehow. Don't tell the
> neighbors. >yawn<
>
> ©¿©¬
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