Seasons

Toenails and pancreases aren't sentient...

Speak for yourself. Every night when I sleep my pancreas comes to me and whispers its wishes for my future into my ear.
*realises what he just typed*
What the . . ? Hey fingers, stop doing that. Don't make me slam you in the piano lid like last time. dkdkdkek3eifknkefjksakflwef
Right then.
Excuse me a moment . . .

i am nmow tyuping thisd with my nmose.

::hands Corwin's fingers an award for best supporting actor::

My finghers would thjank yuou but they are cuirrrentl;y banmdaged.

my icon looks like the eyeball from Coil's "Love's Secret Domain"

Gasp! It's Onyx's evil twin! Somebody hit it with something heavy!

Wait! *I* am the evil twin! *cackle*

If somebody doesn't get hit with something right now, I'm gonna scream.

*hits Kirby with a rubber chicken*

Psychic abilities come from those more inward dimensions in which we are closer to being one- the walls are a lot thinner, and you can hear through time, through the walls of beingness that usually separate one sentience from another. Dreams move us in that direction.

I'm a big fan of the idea that the universe is an open system in which no potential is lost. If one probable you decides to not follow your artistic talents, for example, then another one will. And that idea supposes that there is communication between us and those "totally-separate" seeming realities. Tiny differences that can spiral chaos-style into great changes.

Maybe that's why we're living in this strange alien world. Do you ever sit back and watch the planes overhead and the traffic and neon lights and computer screens and realize that we are in a strange alien world? Just think, 100 years ago you you'd be milking your cow, and now you're online creating artificial intelligence. Can this possibly be the same world?

Perspective sucks. I'll see you in the bar.