Two Bojangles: The Pockyclips and Aperiodic Repetions.

I probably have the biggest penis on the women's swim team, btw.

Anyway, cocksmanship aside, I was reading Paradise Lost and Paradise Found, a kind of "vacation journal from hell", in which you kinda wish they had lost your baggage in the grist.  And I mean, everybody has heard of Paradise Lost, "that's old timey", and maybe some have read it, but Paradise Found?  Pilgrim's Progress?

"Lets go see Jesus, e'rybody."

"I ain't gonna need my cell phone charger for this, I think."

Anyway once more, two ridiculous shapes combined in a tiled mosaic that could conceivably go on infinitely.  I had a simulation of this on the LX QT window system, where it just jumps into the computer memory and processes until its little unction is finally satisfied: a cacaphony of randomized patterns of shapes, in which no single section is actually repeated without variation, in theory protruding indignantly into infinite space.

It was said that there was research, and someone(Roger Penrose) was credited with inventing the thing, and then it was found in materials from centuries ago, invented actually by another culture, and respected, understood to some extent to represent the endless variety of the life natural.

"Hey, how ah ya? Hey how ah ya?"

The infinitely random space of nature, just like the almost infinite randomness of consciousness, and my preliminary thoughts were that probably all snowflakes weren't entirely unique, that perhaps some repetition could be marked, even in random, such that it is entirely without a given pattern, and merely a few snowflakes distributed over the fruited plain that vaguely, of millions of them, several that vaguely resemble one another.

The English paradise was what?  Pacific Islands?  Hispaniola?

Perhaps the cutting edge of a perceived agnostic paradise today is the conquest and pioneering of outer space, carving a vast dominion out of a superset of property in four dimensions.

In the interim, the little space between today and tomorrow, I declare myself to be the factual "Bull of the Woods" of female swimming, declaring myself whatever I want to be, and whomever obliged to comply.

What would you do with a room filled with gold if there were no one to trade it with?