Noam Chomsky...

...once wrote a sentence as an example of one that is grammatically correct, but semantically nonsensical.

The sentence is:

"Colorless green ideas sleep furiously."

To me, this is a truly beautiful sentence, and one that really touches close to home, as many of my thoughts are made up of such abstractness.  It's funny how famous this sentence is, written in 1955, because of the way that it feels like it should make sense, the grammatical pieces of a sentence are there, but really it doesn't make sense, so they say. When in fact the sentence makes perfect sense to those whose minds see in the way that the sentence lives. Sure, colorless green ideas, where an idea should not be able to be both colorless AND green, but those who say that are of the feeble hearted, those who have not visited the deep palindrome of one's infinite dreams, created then and only by they who dwell within it. Such a sentence in such a place aforementioned is commonplace, a dull observation in such an extravagant universe.

That is all.

-TB

In those days folk still believed in... #qwikRite

Famous Line: "In those days folk still believed in..."
5 Words to use: Kooky, Backpack, Somersault, Hiccup, Goofy
10 minutes...BEGIN

 In those days folk still believed in love at first sight. It was as if, for some reason, when a person looked at another person that they had never seen before, something within them became magnetized, fireworks within their heart, and it was all over for them. Sometimes, this whole 'love at first sight' notion happened between two humans that had seen each other before, just not in a long time, thus defeating the purpose of the whole premise. We know now that this is obviously not a true statement, or something that actually happens. We humanoids have evolved past the time when Love was something that would make one act foolish, or GOOFY, or KOOKY, or some other pointless feeling, which got those Y2K humans into so much trouble. No, this is not something inherent, but make believe, a way to give one meaning when that meaning was being evasive. Like doing SOMERSAULTS down an escalator of a crowed public mall -- as this exerts one's masulinity, we do not rely upon such act to find a mate, as that is discovered by the Sorting Hat. There is no reason to tie love or strange feelings into a relationship that exists solely for the procreation of our species. Simply HICCUP into your mate's mouth, a simple flick of the forehead, and presto, a fetus begins to grow from the BACKPACK that the male carries around. What more needs to be said?

END

hahaha. I have no idea, so don't ask.

Full famous line: In those days folk still believed in witches, and trembled at a curse.

Whoa, wayyy different direction. Love it.

Garbage Trucks (c. 2007)

Garbage trucks.  Hormonal lottery of the urban waste, picking the luscious fruit from the garden of anguish and horror, though it shares a boundary line, an infinite one-dimensional entity that sums its existence to less than a single piece of litter, the breeze merely a tiny whisper of Mother Earth, a fluttering hymn that tells the stories of all of time, sometimes a deep melody, an account of the scars that have grazed the epidermis, the muscle, the bone of our very dear planet; on its tongue the trash rests, in and around and out and between and during and under and through and after and before it knows and can see or believe, it becomes itself apart of the toxic the clutter the empty pizza boxes the rotting food the trillions upon trillions of streaming data that exists between and around and within us, every moment that passes, our minds experience this by the thousands, the millions, the billions, the trillions, the googolplex search engine that anyone can use, and many do use it, but alas; Ex Square Triangle Circle in a Diamond Club Spade Heart of Gold Silver White Black as Night Day for a Walk Run Swim Dance in the Clouds Rain Water Bottle Drink Flow Release Repeat the First Second Third Eighth Ninth Eleventh but not the Seventh Son Unique Antique as a Rock Mountain Forest Dinosaurs Our Mind, brought to us in an instant, when we as creatures were ready, had evolved to a stage, had become ready, ready for the necessity to Think Reason Doubt Feel Believe Lie Love Hate Regret Cry Welcome Create Destroy Ponder Wonder Imagine Dream Wink Explore Forget Remember Play FUCK Dance Swing Laugh Protect Invent Win Lose Smoke Drink Hurt Bloat Kill Demand Accept Judge Bother Deny Purchase Sell Listen Taste See Feel Hear, but not only as any other creature can use its senses, but to grasp with the intellect what we perceive, what we Hear Think See Feel Taste, to know it and register it and understand it, to remember it and tell stories about it, to decide on it, to change your mind about it, to feel differently than another about it, to live it, that moment, forever captured, your life a script from your eyes, to be seen and interpreted by only that which is the `I’, the thinker, the intellect, the you that makes you, but as a computer the brain like a program runs as a stream of data, can it be discovered, access to ones mind, ones soul, or simply the physical brain, where memory may be stored, to create films of all intellects lives, and non-intellects, the animals the fish the dogs the spiders the caterpillars the bunnies the jellyfish the lions the birds the rhinoceros the bat the bear the elephant, all minds eye in a file, on record documented and kept locked, and  we are watched, and we are no longer the free will we were given by God, by The Supreme Infinite Being, The Creator of the universe, for a Bang so Big does not happen on its own, an illogical concept, for if one can truly understand, know, grasp the concept that all effect must have a cause indubitably, then in effect the effect of the start had a cause that caused the effect in effect, for no cause to cause an effective effect can not not effect the effect that was caused by the cause; the point remains, and can be reflected upon, like a graph of symmetry, which is a concept from the language of our Universe, our Cosmos, our all encompassing Dimensional Field of existence, speaks slowly to us, eases us through and through, and slowly teaches us, guides, us, and we understand more, we translate the language better faster harder stronger, we read the language of the Infinite, but to what avail? IS there reason to reason, to implore and explore, to discover and progress, where do we head? What is the sum? In the night, Bumps find the heads of those who cannot find the way through the labyrinth, twisting path of uncertainty and mystery, but one continues, for at the end lies _____. And then what? One must head back in the same direction one came from, the exact same route to take you to the exact same spot where it all began, and one can try it again, on a track like runaways, always going, never stopping, unless they deem themselves safe, and when this is so, it can never remain.  In the beast of the belly one may find oneself, the liar a companion, your only friend, for eternity and change, and the light is gone, and the dark prevails, but not because of what it is, but because of what it lacks.

-   Tyler Benz 2-20-2007

WHERE'S MY MIND

Many thoughts racing through my mind, one hundred miles per hour, kilometers per second, feet per foot, never ceasing, always active, of life and love and creation, to manifest art in such a way that it defines the essence of my being, explains who I am deeper than I ever could do in simple English, or Spanish, or spoken word, and so I feverishly jot down loose thought to paper, to digital parchment, to remember those fleeting ideas that may or may not have purpose, but to forget is definite uselessness, a pity, a shame, but to write them is to preserve them, and so those thoughts collect dust and pile high, higher still, kept secret when they should really be shared, viewed, other pairs of eyes to glance them and more than likely brush them off but still it is better than no eyes ever glancing them, a transference of raw thought, perhaps a seed to grow within another's mind?






I am in the process of writing a novel, and for better or worse I WILL complete it, one way or another.