#lynnscription

[melynnwater]

the first physical object to break the laws of thermodynamics was invented by accident. a regular lithium ion battery that would never need to be recharged.

it was made by a mindless robot in a mindless factory. inserted into a cheap and durable mp3 player on June 5th, 2004.

the unassuming device was shipped to a walmart and bought as an 8 year old girl's birthday present. she happily filled it with mp3s her dad helped her download.

she never noticed the battery's unending lifespan, because she diligently charged it every night. on October 12th, 2004, she unplugged her headphones without pausing her music: Hillary Duff's self titled album, on repeat.

on October 13th, 2004, the device fell out of her pocket while she was swinging on a swingset. It landed in the mulch her dad put under the swingset to stop her from getting hurt. He loves her so much.

she never found the mp3 player. she cried and sobbed, and her mom bought her another one the next payday, October 21st, 2004. the little girl's second mp3 player would fully drain its battery 6 times before she stopped using it, on January 7th, 2007.

Hillary is still singing silently into the dirt, not even an output for the same 17 songs repeating only to the worms. a tulip patch was unknowingly planted over it. the girl died on March 19th, 2073, her wife knew it was coming, but mourned all the same. Hillary had the same repeated lyrics to say.

the last time this woman thought about Hillary Duff was on December 25th, 2056, while reminiscing about music she listened to in her youth with her wife. Hillary Duff was still singing for her as she brought her music up, even if the woman didn't know.

[melynnwater]

I met god sitting on a park bench.

I thought of my childhood. Of frutiger fields and the sweet embrace of surreality.

Movies I've never seen and games I'll never play.

She smiled at me and the ground cracked beneath my feet.

She extended a pane and I forgot where my hands were.

She found me anyways and pulled me through the event horizon.

Endless windows of every memory. Every experience. Folded into one.

I asked god if I could go back.

She did not understand my question, and apologizes for the distress.

I will say "so is this it?"

"so is this it?"

she will respond "yes"

It is, indeed.

"now what?"

Well. when life becomes another footstep on your path, and infinity boils down to a single wrinkle upon your pinky finger, you might take a different type of look at life.

thats all it was just a little peek

And when you get a look, you realize what we all must realize.

it's all just the peak before the drop. the dark before the light. the last ray of summer's light. yearning for the cold in the warm, aching for the warm when you're freezing cold.

dualities, dichotomies, binaries - they're all arbitrary. none of them matter. that's why you look for the contrast. you find the edge between yourself and I, and you define the fractal that's there along your edge.

you carry that fractal with you, and never forget that infinity is contained within a finite you.

I love you.

[melynnwater]

this poem brought to you by how much I fucking hate executive dysfunction.

[melynnwater]

[melynnwater]

s.c,a?n!s i-o;n.

girl who just learned what scansion is re- and she just

well

, thinks

about what to do.

one senten c e

longer than

it should maybe be.

if you speak this

o ut loud then ho w do you evven pronouns pronounce* a sentence like , yknow, this?

[melynnwater]

[melynnwater]

my gf lost a long indepth post due to tumblr letting you undo but not redo, and that sucks, but it struck inspiration in me

not sure if I'll actually make a story out of it or anything, but I really like the concept, feel free to use it as a writing prompt if you'd like :)

[melynnwater]

this is the last paragraph of the story you've been reading, and the first paragraph of the story you are reading. the Heartless Human walks up to god, finally at the end of their lifelong journey. weary. tired. Alone. Alive. god looks them over, and without a word, gives them what they want. A Heart.

"why does it hurt?"

"you've gone so long without one, I had to make it five times as big. please understand."

"what have you done to me? I'm not built to handle this-"

and god sends the finished human away, that sentence finishing in their own story. this is not that story. the next person, born without a face, confronts their creator, and tries to make the climax of their narrative last a little longer.

Unfortunately for them, this is the end of this story.

[melynnwater]

oh, hey, did you catch that?

well, of course you didn't. your senses aren't built to detect events like this.

you can only see things, you can't know if something isn't being seen.

for the first time in 1024 years, 86 days, 5 hours, 14 minutes, and 37 seconds, for just a moment, not a single person was looking at the moon.

the moment is over, of course, a child in greenland just saw the moon, and by now, so have thousands of others.

if something happened to the moon in that moment, nobody would have known. of course, nothing did happen. it's just the moon.

[melynnwater]

[melynnwater]

I found an angel at the bottom of a Pepsi can

it stared up at me and Delicious and Refreshing divine beauty poured out

light dripping into my cup, overflowing onto my lap, onto my floor

light begets darkness

the stain of light cracks open

the darkest shadow with A Taste You Just Can't Beat!

the brand was gone from my Soda can.

an angel feeds on information. thrives on recognition.

the light soaks back into the tiny beast, No Mess Left Behind.

It's Like It Wasn't Even There!

[melynnwater]

I love you.

Yes, you.

You're here.

That means you got here.

And that means you've struggled.

But you're here now.

And I'm proud of you.

And I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

[melynnwater]

everyone and everything exists infinite times

there are as many categorizations as there are thoughts

for every stinkbug that has ever existed

you could sort them by any criteria

and there will be one on top and one on the bottom

there's a heaviest stinkbug. a friendliest stinkbug. a stinkbug who has turned at a right angle more than any other stinkbug.

there is a unique way to define everything

I can't believe you would swat the smoothest fly that has ever been. how dare you.

[melynnwater]

an immortal being is sitting, motionless and silent, in a blank room

they have sat here, unmoving, for the last 3,648 days, 7 hours, 13 minutes, and 47 seconds. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53.

Then, they stand up.

and the other figure in the room responds to this.

"Tsk tsk, impatient again, young one. You were less than 2 days short."

"Dang. How far specifically was I off?"

"You waited 87,559 hours and 14 minutes exactly."

"I see.. Ah well. Should I attempt 10 years again?"

"It may help you to practice smaller scales. Try for 3 weeks."

"Hmph. Alright."

And they sit back down, (1 second.) returning to their (2.) stillness, not moving (3.) for the next 21 days. (4.) (5.) (6.) (7.) (8.) (9.) (10.)

[melynnwater]

digital preservation, heaven, and art.

every copy of super mario 64 is personalized.

sort of.

it's not because there are differences between my copy and yours - no no no

it's because there are differences between you and I. and art can't exist without someone to see it. and super mario 64 is art like anything else.

this same sentiment can be applied to. well. any piece of art. but what is art?

(vsauce music plays)

well.

it's everything!

or,

it's anything!

if you think it's art,

well,

it sure is by the time you finish that thought.

stay with me here, okay?

heaven is a piece of art.

heaven is a concept. but it is art.

and so, heaven, too, must be personalized.

of course, this is all regardless of how 'real' the concept of heaven is.

if you have played SM64, then who are you to say you've never visited bob-omb battlefield, just because you don't know how the polygons feel against your skin?

all that being said.

I want to talk about my heaven.

heaven is

everything.

when I said heaven is a piece of art, it would've been more accurate to say that heaven is every piece of art.

a metaphysical space where you can access every piece of information and art that's ever been created, conceptualized, witnessed, or acknowledged.

heaven is a lucid dream, with an endless library of assets.

heaven is a website, a file directory with every file ever put to code.

every draft.

every finished work.

every shitty little doodle you made

just to demonstrate what you were talking about.

unfortunately, as nice as this is to think of.

we don't have access to heaven.

but that's okay.

heaven is a piece of art.

and if there's one thing we're good at,

it's creating art.

and what is more divine

than the act of creation?

what is creation

without preservation?

digital preservation is an artform.

thank you for reading.

[melynnwater]

Ikarus

(sorry for no alt text. not able to right now. remind me later?)