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redcatblackcat: March 2011
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Tuesday, March 29, 2011. I just say what i wanna say. Trip on the rhythm. Flicker for a moment. That my patience could never reach. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). View my complete profile. Don't fear the ink.
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redcatblackcat: breadtoy
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Wednesday, November 27, 2013. Ooh, breadtoy, breadtoy! I have to take it up from the floor and onto the bed, so that I can cover the sheets all with crumbs! I will bat it and whack it and bite it and gnaw it and thwack it from here over to there! I shall hit it with left paw, and hit it with right, and poke it under the blanket it and snag it right back! I will jump at it, pounce on it, paw at it, look confused by it, snack on it a bit, and then leap away! Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).
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redcatblackcat: April 2010
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Sunday, April 18, 2010. Cows deride the pasta tenses, and recalcitrant pickle rhetoric. Life is a lot more fun if you see difference more as an opportunity than as an annoyance. So, tell me why. Saying we only need one language is like saying we only need one song. A stack o' stuff. Smallbits are tasty easy fun. After losing so many hours of years. To the deep low drone,. To the grey wet wool blanket. That sogs you sad. Leaves you slow and cold. With the only flame burning. In the eating of your self.
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redcatblackcat: January 2012
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Thursday, January 19, 2012. How to get computers to understand human language. The fundamental problem in getting computers to understand human language that they can't understand what it feels like to be a human. But how DO we model what it's like to be a human, especially with regard to internal states? Which brings us to a point about knowledge itself. Knowledge is basically a means to predict from current percepts (again, both internal and external in origin) what future percepts will be. From ambien...
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redcatblackcat: April 2012
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Monday, April 30, 2012. 20120430 bits and pieces. Another pill of chinese medicine. That tastes like smoke. Standing out here in the sun. Looking back at all those years. That slammed me up against the wall of my own limits. Nose bloodied, missing a few teeth. And worsened for all the grey slow times. Letting chance after breathing chance pass. In the light and the wind. Is another opening day. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). 20120430 bits and pieces. View my complete profile. Don't fear the ink.
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redcatblackcat: 20120430 | bits and pieces
http://redcatblackcat.blogspot.com/2012/04/20120430-bits-and-pieces.html
Monday, April 30, 2012. 20120430 bits and pieces. Another pill of chinese medicine. That tastes like smoke. Standing out here in the sun. Looking back at all those years. That slammed me up against the wall of my own limits. Nose bloodied, missing a few teeth. And worsened for all the grey slow times. Letting chance after breathing chance pass. In the light and the wind. Is another opening day. April 30, 2012 at 11:02 AM. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). 20120430 bits and pieces. Don't fear the ink.
redcatblackcat.blogspot.com
redcatblackcat: August 2010
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Monday, August 23, 2010. How it plays out. Till my hands can make. All this that i can hear. Monday, August 2, 2010. When all my thoughts are about dill. Heat in the light. Come on the grass with me. Blood of the sun in clots. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). How it plays out. Blood of the sun in clots. View my complete profile. Don't fear the ink.
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redcatblackcat: March 2012
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Friday, March 23, 2012. We use the old to handle the new. This is how ancient languages (and most all languages are ancient). Handle the new modern world. This is how we all handle new information. In conversations: new, buffered via the old and familiar. This is how a learner handles a new language,. Improvising towards the new. With whatever is old to them, familiar to them, easy to them, readily. This is how we use the old to handle the new,. The familiar to handle the novel. Monday, March 12, 2012.
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redcatblackcat: October 2010
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Monday, October 25, 2010. Thorntrees full of littlebirds. Because there isn't a rhythm to what this slowness means. Here where the sun has bleached my hat but not my head. Here where the sun has bleached my hat and speckled my arms. Even in my technical formal academic writing, man, I'd rather write prosetry to try to evoke the meaning- -not by fuzzy vague implicitnesses, but rather, by having more place for passion than prose permits, more place for passion and pause and prosody. Perhaps I can, then.