Similitudes


Let me tell you a few things about my evening habits, this because most of my blogs are focusing on the first part of my day: from morning woods to leafy breakfasts, from early lovemaking in bed to garden photo sittings before noon.

‘Bring Me to Orgasm’ is a late morning production by a well fixed camera to the corner of our bed. – https://makelovenotporn.tv/works/769

After dinner, no later than six or seven, I wish to cuddle, again yes. But this time in front of the TV set. My top favorite suspenseful soap series are ‘The Blacklist’ and its recent derivative ‘The Blacklist: Redemption.’ Then I enjoy watching ‘Designated Survivor’ and ‘Colony’ and ‘Outlander’ and ‘Big Little Lies’ and waiting for ‘Game of Thrones’ to open and conclude.

These are all dramas and – short of ‘Suits’ – I can hardly find a contemporary comedy to relax my tense neurons. Browsing back in time, I rediscovered the classical cult sitcom ‘Friends’ which I loved without actually following it through the 1990’s and early twenty hundreds. The busyness of work, business and children chores gave me no time to watch TV. Let not mention the on-demand factor – a bulky VHS recorder (then) but a fatter coffee mug mat with a Google sign in the middle of it (now).

Yesterday evening I’ve watched ‘Friends’ season 3, episode 6 – The one with the Flashback.

Friends S03E06 – TOW The Flashback – Monica & Joey Scene


Laughing in tears, I remembered living a similar scene in my real life, back in early 1988. There was no lemonade and we were in a basement. The moves, the dialogues and my surprise were almost identical.

Funny how one can discover similitudes. Fascinating how phenotypes work. I am wondering if a metaphor spoken here and now isn’t an event, or a routine, happening there and then. If the universe is a hologram and we’re contemplating a hall of mirrors, do we know where (and when) is the original?

Alien life could thrive in the clouds of failed stars

There’s an abundant new swath of cosmic real estate that life could call home—and the views would be spectacular. Floating out by themselves in the Milky Way galaxy are perhaps a billion cold brown dwarfs, objects many times as massive as Jupiter but not big enough to ignite as a star. According to a new study, layers of their upper atmospheres sit at temperatures and pressures resembling those on Earth, and could host microbes that surf on thermal updrafts.
http://www.sciencemag.org/news/2016/12/alien-life-could-thrive-clouds-failed-stars

Mark Garlick/Science Source
The comfortably warm atmosphere of a brown dwarf is an underappreciated potential home for alien life, scientists say.


Sir Arthur C. Clarke envisioned that decades ago in his ‘2010: Odyssey Two’ published in 1982.

An epigone wrote in 2012.

Don is now a guest of one of the amazing worlds described, decades ago, by Sir Arthur C. Clarke. How on earth can I tell that? Maybe from the few long forsaken memories, because I never was a fan of his favorite literary genre. Now, my man was given a slightly concave lens to sit upon. This lens is not just transparent but fairly wide enough to cover our property like an imaginary umbrella. It seems to me that he has the ability to control the lens, to fly it wherever he so desires.
A thought of mine asks Cron for a close up to Don’s face. He is happy, toying with such a huge mouse that he can sit and walk upon. Not to mention that he can see through it at what’s going on beneath the hover line.
Suddenly, in a green flash, it seems to me that I lost him, then he comes up on my 3D holographic volume.
“What was that, Cron?”
“Just a leviathan, Milady.”
“Isn’t that a sea monster?”
“No, Milady. The leviathan is a Jovian native species. More of a flying dragon, but he can dive and swim as well as he darts the skies of Jupiter.”
“My hubby is in great danger then. Do something!” I find myself commanding to the alien standing in front of me, at my service. My escort.
“Calm down, Milady. Nothing will happen to your loved one. Leviathans won’t prey on humans without allowance. Fear not, your Don is protected by a higher Host.”
I make efforts to believe what Cron tells me. But I have no time to elaborate on my typical worries. I see that Don lands his flying lens over a green pasture. And I see a flock of people running to welcome him.
“Is there a solid core below the thick atmosphere of Jupiter?” I find myself asking scientific questions. Hm, strange! Since when did I get interested in planetary morphology and structure?
“Yes, Milady. Jupiter has a deep and tiny core made of various rocks and metals. However, you are not looking at it right now. There are immense oceans of hydrogen between that core and your husband, tens of thousands of kilometers down throughout the ever denser gases. But let me answer your concealed question, Milady. What we see in this peeping volume is that Don landed on the green pastures of a nympho garden. This is floating, like many others, around the sweet spots in the higher layers of the Jovian atmosphere where conditions are mild and friendly for a human habitat.”
“A nympho garden, you said?” Now I’m scared. REALLY scared!

https://www.amazon.com/Doris-Dawn/e/B00CPPI9TW


Time is not a factor, rather an illusion disimulating the tact of existence. Which existence is layered like a Matryoshka doll. 


Wondering where to draw a line between science and fiction. Where science ends and fiction begins? When fiction is metamorphosising into science?

Given the many errors in measuring, the tried and failed models, the ever expanding frontier of knowledge. Denial makes part of no scientific pursue. It is rather a religious matter. You cannot say ‘climate change denial’ without positioning yourself behind a pulpit.

Lounging on ideas and speculations, poking at concepts and coincidences, imagine that you are, because you have been and you will be – as something, someone, somewhere.

“You don’t find love, it finds you. It’s got a little bit to do with destiny, fate, and what’s written in the stars.” ― Anaïs Nin

“You don’t find love, it finds you. It’s got a little bit to do with destiny, fate, and what’s written in the stars.”

― Anaïs Nin

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