The Earth's location relative to the Sun when O was born

That magical alignment will occur... in a time that I will now calculate. According to Mark Clark, O was born 5 hours before the arrival of September. Therefore, he was born on August 31 at 7:00 P.M. BUT... we must consider the 1/4th of a day at the end of each year. Unfortunately, I do not know which year he was born in. Therefore, both possibilities shall be posted. If he was born in 1998, then the alignment will occur tomorrow... at around 3:00 A.M. If he was born in 1997, then it will occur at 9:00 A.M. If anyone has his exact birthyear, feel free to post it. I just remembered to post O on the page of members. I must do so now. BYE!!!!!

People have their names wrong...

I have seen some people today that I haven't in... a few weeks or so. Anyways, as people were introducing themselves after practice today, I noticed that a few people got their names wrong. Mark Clark noticed this a few seconds after his introduction, and said "oops", so all is fine with him, now that he knows what he accidentally failed upon. Now, for all of you OTHER people, such as Uncommon Vanilla (39 pats, as of now), introduced themselves wrong, and never noticed. YOUR NAME IS UNCOMMON VANILLA, NOT VINCENT OR WHATEVER YOU SAID. This also goes for Turritopsis Uroboros. That is your name, not anything besides Turritopsis Uroboros. REMEMBER THAT and you shall be fine... for a while... or so... One question that is still unanswered was... WHERE IS BOB THE FAMILIAR SHADOW SLAYING GUY!!!!!!!! He posted on Turritopsis's blog today... Oh well. I hope he reads and comments to this blog post. Thanks and have a nice day!

SUPREME MAGICAL POEM OF PI

Poe, E.
Near a Raven

Midnights so dreary, tired and weary.
Silently pondering volumes extolling all by-now obsolete lore.
During my rather long nap - the weirdest tap!
An ominous vibrating sound disturbing my chamber's antedoor.
"This", I whispered quietly, "I ignore".


Perfectly, the intellect remembers: the ghostly fires, a glittering ember.
Inflamed by lightning's outbursts, windows cast penumbras upon this floor.
Sorrowful, as one mistreated, unhappy thoughts I heeded:
That inimitable lesson in elegance - Lenore -
Is delighting, exciting...nevermore.


Ominously, curtains parted (my serenity outsmarted),
And fear overcame my being - the fear of "forevermore".
Fearful foreboding abided, selfish sentiment confided,
As I said, "Methinks mysterious traveler knocks afore.
A man is visiting, of age threescore."


Taking little time, briskly addressing something: "Sir," (robustly)
"Tell what source originates clamorous noise afore?
Disturbing sleep unkindly, is it you a-tapping, so slyly?
Why, devil incarnate!--" Here completely unveiled I my antedoor--
Just darkness, I ascertained - nothing more.


While surrounded by darkness then, I persevered to clearly comprehend.
I perceived the weirdest dream...of everlasting "nevermores".
Quite, quite, quick nocturnal doubts fled - such relief! - as my intellect said,
(Desiring, imagining still) that perchance the apparition was uttering a whispered "Lenore".
This only, as evermore.


Silently, I reinforced, remaining anxious, quite scared, afraid,
While intrusive tap did then come thrice - O, so stronger than sounded afore.
"Surely" (said silently) "it was the banging, clanging window lattice."
Glancing out, I quaked, upset by horrors hereinbefore,
Perceiving: a "nevermore".


Completely disturbed, I said, "Utter, please, what prevails ahead.
Repose, relief, cessation, or but more dreary 'nevermores'?"
The bird intruded thence - O, irritation ever since! -
Then sat on Pallas' pallid bust, watching me (I sat not, therefore),
And stated "nevermores".


Bemused by raven's dissonance, my soul exclaimed, "I seek intelligence;
Explain thy purpose, or soon cease intoning forlorn 'nevermores'!"
"Nevermores", winged corvus proclaimed - thusly was a raven named?
Actually maintain a surname, upon Pluvious seashore?
I heard an oppressive "nevermore".


My sentiments extremely pained, to perceive an utterance so plain,
Most interested, mystified, a meaning I hoped for.
"Surely," said the raven's watcher, "separate discourse is wiser.
Therefore, liberation I'll obtain, retreating heretofore -
Eliminating all the 'nevermores' ".


Still, the detestable raven just remained, unmoving, on sculptured bust.
Always saying "never" (by a red chamber's door).
A poor, tender heartache maven - a sorrowful bird - a raven!
O, I wished thoroughly, forthwith, that he'd fly heretofore.
Still sitting, he recited "nevermores".


The raven's dirge induced alarm - "nevermore" quite wearisome.
I meditated: "Might its utterances summarize of a calamity before?"
O, a sadness was manifest - a sorrowful cry of unrest;
"O," I thought sincerely, "it's a melancholy great - furthermore,
Removing doubt, this explains 'nevermores' ".


Seizing just that moment to sit - closely, carefully, advancing beside it,
Sinking down, intrigued, where velvet cushion lay afore.
A creature, midnight-black, watched there - it studied my soul, unawares.
Wherefore, explanations my insight entreated for.
Silently, I pondered the "nevermores".


"Disentangle, nefarious bird! Disengage - I am disturbed!"
Intently its eye burned, raising the cry within my core.
"That delectable Lenore - whose velvet pillow this was, heretofore,
Departed thence, unsettling my consciousness therefore.
She's returning - that maiden - aye, nevermore."


Since, to me, that thought was madness, I renounced continuing sadness.
Continuing on, I soundly, adamantly forswore:
"Wretch," (addressing blackbird only) "fly swiftly - emancipate me!"
"Respite, respite, detestable raven - and discharge me, I implore!"
A ghostly answer of: "nevermore".


" 'Tis a prophet? Wraith? Strange devil? Or the ultimate evil?"
"Answer, tempter-sent creature!", I inquired, like before.
"Forlorn, though firmly undaunted, with 'nevermores' quite indoctrinated,
Is everything depressing, generating great sorrow evermore?
I am subdued!", I then swore.


In answer, the raven turned - relentless distress it spurned.
"Comfort, surcease, quiet, silence!" - pleaded I for.
"Will my (abusive raven!) sorrows persist unabated?
Nevermore Lenore respondeth?", adamantly I encored.
The appeal was ignored.


"O, satanic inferno's denizen -- go!", I said boldly, standing then.
"Take henceforth loathsome "nevermores" - O, to an ugly Plutonian shore!
Let nary one expression, O bird, remain still here, replacing mirth.
Promptly leave and retreat!", I resolutely swore.
Blackbird's riposte: "nevermore".


So he sitteth, observing always, perching ominously on these doorways.
Squatting on the stony bust so untroubled, O therefore.
Suffering stark raven's conversings, so I am condemned, subserving,
To a nightmare cursed, containing miseries galore.
Thus henceforth, I'll rise (from a darkness, a grave) -- nevermore!


-- Original: E. Poe
-- Redone by measuring circles.

Other Magical Poem of Pi

Now I will a rhyme construct,
By chosen words, the young instruct.
Cunningly devised endeavors,
Con it and remember ever.
Widths in circle here you see,
Sketched out in strange obscurity.

Play THIS on a Piano!

Sooo... there is this song that people call the "Death Waltz", although the song is acutally a remix of the song called "UN Owen was Her" from the game Touhou: Embodiment of the Scarlet Devil. Well, this is a video explaining "how" to play this on the piano, but I don't see how you'll learn anything from this, as it takes about 20 hands to actually play this. Still, watch the video anyways.



The song isn't by John Stump by the way. That was the other song, "Faerie's Aire and Death Waltz", a song thats "impossible" to play.

Search the FUNGUS STATEMENT

For some reason, when you search up the FUNGUS STATEMENT, the first result is a post in Turritopsis Uroboros's blog in which I commented in. I would like to have THIS blog as the first result in that search. Unfortunately, it seems Google has yet to register this blog into it's search system, so this could take a while. Perhaps if I get more comments, followers, and posts, they will realise the importance of this blog and add it to their system. Therefore, I am requesting you people to comment and refer people to this blog as much as possible. Thanks and have a nice day!

AHHHH SURGERY

Surgery is done. My mouth hurts only if something touches it (like my toungue). The worst thing about it wouldn't be the surgery itself, because they numb for it. It would be the sedatives they use to put you to sleep. Even now, I feel very strange when I walk, and I can't eat anything because that causes me to throw up a few minutes later. Therefore, I have been drinking fluids this entire day lain down somewhere, trying to go to sleep. I should feel better tomorrow, if my body recovers fast enough. I suppose the moral of this story is DON'T USE DRUGS unless you have to, like in my situation. Even then, it makes you feel really bad. AGH!!!! STOMACHACHE!!! BYE!

Surgery Tomorrow

Surgery Tomorrow. This shall put further limitations on what I can eat even with braces. This limitation shall last for about one week or so. FUNGUS!

Boredom

I am bored... I shall play Dragon Nest when Mark Clark is finished with his math homework.

To eat, or not to eat

I have rewritten "To be, or not to be" as a fungus passage. This block of text basically describes the confusion this random man had to go through because he somehow obtained a large amount of MUSHROOMS!!!! And now, he doesn't have anywhere to put them. He tries to eat them, but there are too many. He tries to throw them away, but doesn't want to be wasteful. He wishes to give them to people who need food, but fears of their allergies. Anyways, here it is. Read for yourself:

To eat, or not to eat, that is the fungus question:
Whether 'tis more fungusy in the mind to suffer
The aches and pains of a fungus stuffed belly,
Or to take refusal against a sea of mushrooms,
And by opposing waste them? To waste, to refuse,
No more; and by a refusal to say we cannot explode
The great belly we use everyday, and the thousand natural mushrooms
That we are heir to: 'tis a great fortune
Devoutly to be wished. To gain, to inherit;
To inherit, perchance to donate – ay, there's the rub:
For in that mass of mushrooms what furthur good may come,
When we have shuffled off our own terrible hunger,
Must give us pause – there's the idea
That makes greatness of so much fungi.
For who would bear the pains and aches of hunger,
The belly's shrinking, the random man's randomness,
The burden of a massive debt, the people's mass-pat spree,
The great ripoff deals of the Uncommon Vanilla, and the massive space
That is required of the one who stores the massive amount of mushrooms,
When he himself might decide
With a generous mind who would get the mushrooms,
To eat and eat under a large mushroom's cap,
But that the spores of that great mushroom may cause his allergies,
The undiscovered allergy from his DNA
No one knew about, shall stall the decision,
And makes him rather hard to deal with the situation
Than to keep all of them by himself?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the great mass of mushrooms
Is passed generation to generation down the family,
And is the burden that they must carry,
With this mass of mushrooms their home turns small,
And lose the name of action. Eat them now,
The fair Mushroom! Food, in thy plate
Be all my troubles gone.

Mystical Poem of Pi

Sir, I bear a rhyme excelling
In mystic force and magic spelling
Celestial sprites elucidate
All my own striving can't relate.
Or locate they who can cogitate
And so finally terminate. Finis.

What Now?

I have nothing to do as of now. We all feel relief now that something has ended. FUNGUS! Ok then... Bye.