Friday, October 29, 2010


I can’t explain everything. Because that would take forever.
To know my life, you would have to have lived it. A ratio of one to one.
You exist because it is impossible to represent you in a way that is not you.
You contain so much information that you cannot be condensed.
This is joy.
(The more information, the higher the possibility for entropy)
(More information is harder to control)
Control isn’t everything
There is no shorthand for your being. You are too messy. You cannot be simplified.
I cannot describe you. I can only behold you.
No one can understand me as a whole. No one can understand you as a whole.
We can’t even understand ourselves.
& yet we feel...


  1. Although I am a proponent of randomness, this title is misleading. The is more than randomness.

  2. I was going off a definition/description of randomness, which stated that the truly random cannot be condensed. If there are patterns, you can simplify it, e.g. the string "AAAAG" could be reduced to "4AG."

    What I was trying to say is that our lives (a collection of random occurrences both before our birth and during our existence)are so messy that you can never reduce it---not to words, not to information, not to anything.

    And I see that as a good thing.

  3. Right, right. I should have realized you were describing the randomness of life, and not calling this random.