I have found that I can blink my eyes eight times a second, although I cannot maintain this speed for very long. My eyelids close, and almost as soon as they do so, they open again. Between those two actions there is an infinitesimal period of time during which my eyes are fully closed. I think of this as the briefest period of time with which a human being can work - the period of greatest darkness during a blink.

For as long as I remember I have been repulsed by the organic. I am repulsed by the imprecision and sloppiness of animals and plants. I dislike the smell and the disgusting mess of spit and curves. For this reason I have been drawn to technology. When I was a child my favourite toys were Transformers, because they were robots, and robots are angular creatures made of solid, clean metal. They do not drip snot from their noses and they do not leave their lips encrusted with yoghurt. I am repulsed by yoghurt, and warm cheese. I believe this stems back to my experiences with girls when I was at primary school. I associate girls with snot and yoghurt.

Seconds and minutes are not human time measurements, because they are not defined by a property of the human animal. A system of measuring time based on the properties of a human being would necessarily have to be a subjective system of time measurement, because humanity has no universal constants. Humanity is grown rather than designed. When the human race dies there will be no more seconds. Aliens on planets far away do not measure time in seconds, they use other measurements, and one day there will be no-one to measure time with anything at all. Blink-time is my-time, but it is not your-time because you might not be able to blink as fast or as accurately as me. It is possible that you might mis-blink, and fail to bring your eyelids together, or miss.

Recently I have been reading the internet. There are many discussion forums in which people debate esoteric topics. Until I discovered the internet I did not realise that the scientific establishment - in cahoots with big business and big pharma - had been conspiring to cover up so much cutting-edge science in so many unusual fields. But apparently this is the case. Perhaps God created relativistic physics as a portal to heaven, or perhaps as a mental bear trap. Some people are catalysed by the field of relativistic physics. It comes to dominate their mind. It alters their patterns of thought, until they reach a state of blissfully incoherent enlightenment. It is curious that the world's most advanced relativistic physicists spend so much time on Usenet and in the discussion areas of Wikipedia. Their minds have pushed past the human world and have left it behind. They have brought light to the solar panel of God's calculator.

This is why I believe that relativistic physics will always remain in an immature state. The most advanced thinkers in the field - generally, embittered middle-aged men who keep lists of the people who mock them on the internet - are unable to communicate their most ultimate and vital findings, because the greatest part of their minds has already attained rapture and ascended to another plane. In this respect I believe that relativistic physics is like death. There is no way to fully experience either in such a way that it is possible to subsequently communicate those findings to other people.

I have long pondered the nature of death; generally in the early hours of the morning, as I try to fall asleep. I have come to the heartening conclusion that death is nothing to be worried about, because it is unknowable. Although I may one day know that I am about to die, I will not know that I am dead; and therefore, I will never know death. And thus I will never be dead.

It strikes me that, as I contemplate time future and time past, I perceive time in ever-greater chunks. I can concentrate on the seconds and hours of today, but 1981 exists in my mind as a whole year, not a collection of days or hours... in fact, 1981 does not really exist in my mind at all. Nonetheless, the 15th century is a hundred years, rather than a collection of years. The distant future and the distant past are the most enormous Lego blocks, growing larger as they drift away. If you want a picture of history, imagine Bridget Riley's Movement in Squares, but flipped from left-to-right. That is how I see time.

Mother, let's groove. Weld-a-wedge.

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