This paper was found sitting in a park sitting in a park sitting in a park sitting in a park 10:11, July 22, 2011 (UTC)

One & two & three & four. Again: One & two & three & four

Clichés play over and over and… They repeat, always the same. Spinning on a point is still still. Brouwer’s fixed point theorem covers that some point remains still, but even then, in the long run, all the points end up back wherever they’ve been

Encore: One & two & three & four. Again: One & two & three & four

That last again wasn’t as repetitively graceful as last time’s last time’s… / Are you alright? / I don’t know. I feel like I feel like… maybe I need a break, if anyone asks where I am just say I said say I said…

Off and running in that slow walk kind of way

Are you alright? / Say I said say I said… / (Taking hold of) Are you alright? / (Backing away) I just I just… / Get some rest / Last night’s last night’s… sleep was restless as I dreamt I dreamt… This morning I burnt burnt burnt… toast. I’m only worn more day to day to… / Why do you try so hard? / I can’t I can’t… / Anything you need, tell me / I need to need to… / Is it affecting your choreography? / I write that I write that… No. It’s clear. Modern neoclassical ballet: A two frame fuck loop. Reduced down to two essential frames, rid of all those intimate sequences. A single frame won’t do; that’d just be a dirty picture. Not the act, but a mere moment in the act. It’s why memory never serves right. You have to remember two moments superimposed over each other: what better way than to experience one frame while remembering the last? Title: The Whales on The Hill were Here. Capitalize only The Whales, The Hill, Here / & back again. Don’t let me see you like that / Nobody wins when repetition ends in a draw in a draw…

Locked in the bathroom about a problem about a problem… So many fingers gripping head. Scratch scratch… stroke stroke… Still time to think to think… the two frame fuck loop will swap identities. The woman will be on top in the thrusting frame

Piercing. Rings. Ring of rings of rings… Approximation: ring with a ring. The inevitable cliché: will you marry me?

Same story over and over and… Same life over and over and… Same jokes over and over and…

How many sluts does it take to make a baby? / I don’t know / It depends

How many sluts does it take to make a baby make a baby…? / Infinity / Or zero / Or none

Keep forgetting, and it’ll feel like something new. Remember to remember to… People don’t remember static. Even photographic memories. Pattern matching recreates the images. Composition of data into loops is compression. Is understanding understanding…

No Love: Appear on my inner screen. Blind (Probably thought the relevant quote would be Repetitions “My repetition, my repetition is this…”): Been so long since last December. Again, *No Love*: You’re not colder than before

Heat’s fast. Freeze the memories. Lest we forget we forget… We can recall a static pattern: Idealistic composition. The ideal is memorable. Remember more, though inaccurately, by idealizing everything. Yet that perfect face in the car repair shop escaped my memory whenever I looked away

Even the most chaotic patterns, like primes, exhibit patterns when put into cycles, like the Ulam spiral. Though that cycle unravels into infinity, rather than into itself. It’s reincarnation, slowly accumulating into some mass slowly accumulating into some mass… There’s no nirvana to spiral into, as in the case of rebirth of rebirth… Ouroboros found the glutton’s path to nirvana

Two cycles make a bicycle. As children, we ride tricycles. Some progress even further and ride a unicycle. This, surely, is maturity. Yet everybody’s packing into quadricycles with even more cycle bearing engines, bearing engines bearing engines…

Watch the watch. Rotating cosmic entities tick their signals and flicker in tempo. Another year. Each day is the same. November is when I feel vacant. Another Year Without Me: This I’d like to see another, I’ll die, makes me live another year without me now

Not dead yet. Genetic replication? Memory replays. Linked lists leak memory so that the OOM killer strikes the past. Recursion is capable of implementing all loops, but the stack trace isn’t free. Call/cc the past. Loops happen in two ways: the present returning to the past, or the past replicating itself into the present. One moves time forward, the other less so. jmp $: Forever within the confines of this moment. call $: Stack overflow to the cusp of the cusp of…

But so long as one remembers the cycle, something has changed: Gestalt. Do the same thing, but see it differently. Insanity, but where doing the same thing really does make something else happen. Lest we ask ourself: “Where am I from? I’m lost”

Perfection cannot be performed in the human sense of the word. The universe’s discrete nature, if it is discrete, is too Planck to be performed for a live audience. That said, a quantum performance of The Whales on The Hill were Here would be grand

Would you like to play the part? / I’d like to like to… / Cut it out, I don’t have all day. Get out here and answer: What do you want? / I want to want to… / People are getting sick of your sick antics. Who do you think you are? / I am I am… / A series of identities failing to converge. Nothing / It’s my part. I’ll play it. I plan to plan to…

Unlock the door. Put makeup on makeup on… Cut hair that grows back. Clean messes that mess up. Water flowers that’ll only wilt and die

The show’s a scam of a scam of… Have to get out to get out…

But the show must go on and on and…