Matrix

 

If the first One was as Morpheus describes in the film - could make the Matrix over as he saw fit - and led the first of us out

The One would be able to self actualise

We saw what happened when Neo woke up in the pod, gets flushed, and rescued by the ship

So how did the One get out and get the others out

Would they just wake up in the pods, get flushed, and by floating around in the water, unable to swim because they had atrophied muscles

Zion would need to already exist in some form, and so would at least one ship for them to rescue the woken flushed bodies before they drowned

This makes sense because there would be some humans who were never captured - think about the Terminator films - the first film where we see Reece go to the camp

If the humans were not resisting military style, which would be pointless at this stage now the world is conquered, the machines would not be aware of them or be looking for them

This would allow them to escape, get underground, and build Zion

Matrix

 

To quote the Count of Monte Cristo - "we are kings or pawns" Neo was the first One who started as a pawn and became a King What happens to Alice when she reaches the 8th square This was hinted at all along Neo was the first One to go through the other door, save Trinity, who had to pilot the ship after Neo's fight with Smith, and then she dies, not in the Matrix, but at the city, the end of her journey Unlike the Matrix where Neo uses his power to remove the bullet and save her, now he has no such power As the Architect told him "she is going to die and there is nothing you can so about it" - which is of course what he meant all along - she doesn't die in the Matrix from the virtual bullet, because you have the power to stop that - she dies in the real world at the top of the City where you have no power - but you knew that Like Cagney in White Heat, Neo reaches the Top Of The World Like Alice, Neo has reached the 8th Square and is now the King (or Queen in the literal case of Alice) So Neo now The King can go into the Matrix and defeat Smith

Matrix

Have written about Trinity and Neo elsewhere ............... Morpheus Laurence Fishburne as Morpheus: The Wachowskis instructed Fishburne to base his performance on the character Morpheus in Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics Apparently if Will Smith had been Neo then Val Kilmer would have been Morpheus - Val is also cited as one of the actors who turned down Neo . ............. Agent Smith Jean Reno was offered the role, but declined, as he was unwilling to move to Australia for the production ..................... Madonna also turned down an undisclosed role, a decision she would later regret Trinity, Oracle, Switch, Niobe, White Rabbit girl - maybe ............................. SWITCH In the original script, Switch was a woman in the Matrix and a man in the real world, but this idea was removed. Years after the release of The Matrix, both of the Wachowskis came out as transgender women. The red pill has been likened to red estrogen pills. Morpheus's description of the Matrix creating a sense that something is fundamentally wrong, "like a splinter in your mind", has been likened to gender dysphoria. Lilly Wachowski said: "There's a critical eye being cast back on Lana, and I's work through the lens of our transness. This is a cool thing because it's an excellent reminder that art is never static." In 2020, Lilly said The Matrix was intended as an allegory for gender transition, but that "the corporate world wasn't ready". She said it was "all about the desire for transformation but it was all coming from a closeted point of view", but that she did not know "how present my transness was in the background of my brain" when the Wachowskis were writing it. , Keanu Reeves said the idea that the Matrix was an allegory for transgender identity "wasn't introduced to me when we started for production on the films."

 

Enlightenment is the dissolution of the special self

realizing you are not separate

not chosen

not the hero of a cosmic story

 

We can never see past the choices we don't understand 

 

The warrior who trusts his path doesn't need to prove the other is wrong

August

 

August

 

“God of the idle heat, in this glaring road

you dominate all.

And over the green fields wilted down

under your blaze, these

thirsty unruly plants grow a jungle domesticity

to protect their fruit.

Of all hidden things, I sing, waiting

for evening’s grace.”

“Down valley a smoke haze

Three days heat, after five days rain   

Pitch glows on the fir-cones

Across rocks and meadows

Swarms of new flies.

 

I cannot remember things I once read   

A few friends, but they are in cities.   

Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup   

Looking down for miles

Through high still air.”

No wind, no bird. The river flames like brass.
On either side, smitten as with a spell
Of silence, brood the fields. In the deep grass,
Edging the dusty roads, lie as they fell
Handfuls of shriveled leaves from tree and bush.
But ’long the orchard fence and at the gate,
Thrusting their saffron torches through the hush,
Wild lilies blaze, and bees hum soon and late.
Rust-colored the tall straggling briar, not one
Rose left. The spider sets its loom up there
Close to the roots, and spins out in the sun
A silken web from twig to twig. The air
Is full of hot rank scents. Upon the hill
Drifts the noon’s single cloud, white, glaring, still.

 August is the slow, gentle month that stretches out the longest across the span of a year.

 It yawns and lingers on with the light in its palms.

This morning, the sun endures past dawn. 

 it is August: the summer's last stand.

August

 Twilight is the border between day and night,

the shore is the border between sea and land. 

The border is longing: 

when both have fallen in love but still haven’t said anything.

 The border is to be on the way. 

It is the way that is the most important thing.

 August is the border between summer and autumn;

 it is the most beautiful month 

 the first week of August is motionless, and hot

It is curiously silent, too, 
with blank white dawns 
and glaring noons, 
and sunsets smeared with too much color

 Those late August mornings smelt of autumn 

from day-break 
till the hour when the sun-baked earth 
allowed the cool sea breezes 
to drive back the then less heavy aroma 

of threshed wheat, 
open furrows, 
and reeking manure.

 August rain: 

the best of the summer gone, 

and the new fall not yet born. 

The odd uneven time.

As we stood there

Older than men

And younger than the boys

We were as still as the wind

That blows 

on a hot August night

The Wild Boys are calling

On their way back from the fire

In August moon's surrender to

A dust cloud on the rise

 

August is for those who are second choices;

those who love too hard #

and get their heart broken easily;

those who like to cry for fun;

those who love people from afar;

those that are hopeless but also hopeful;

those that love to read books

and fantasize about romance;

those who live for the hope it all

 August rain: 

the best of the summer gone, 

and the new fall not yet born. 

The odd uneven time.

 August is the slow, gentle month that stretches out the longest across the span of a year. 

It yawns and lingers on with the light in its palms.

Borders

Twilight is the border between day and night,

the shore is the border between sea and land. 

The border is longing: 

when both have fallen in love but still haven’t said anything.

 The border is to be on the way. 

It is the way that is the most important thing.

 August is the border between summer and autumn;

 it is the most beautiful month 

 In August, 

the large masses of berries, 

which, when in flower, 

had attracted many wild bees, 

gradually assumed their bright velvety crimson hue, 

and by their weight 

again bent down 

and broke their tender limbs.

 

The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning, 

The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, 

and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, 

but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. 

It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.

August

 

August is the eighth month of the year in the Julian and Gregorian calendars, and the fifth of seven months to have a length of 31 days.

Its zodiac sign is Leo.

Certain meteor showers take place in August. The Kappa Cygnids take place in August, with the dates varying each year. The Alpha Capricornids meteor shower takes place as early as July 10 and ends at around August 10, and the Southern Delta Aquariids take place from mid-July to mid-August, with the peak usually around July 28–29. The Perseids, a major meteor shower, typically takes place between July 17 and August 24, with the days of the peak varying yearly. The star cluster of Messier 30 is best observed around August.

The month was originally named Sextilis in Latin because it was the 6th month in the original ten-month Roman calendar under Romulus in 753 BC, with March being the first month of the year. About 700 BC, it became the eighth month when January and February were added to the year before March by King Numa Pompilius, who also gave it 29 days. Julius Caesar added two days when he created the Julian calendar in 46 BC (AUC 708), giving it its modern length of 31 days.

In 8 BC, the month was renamed in honor of Emperor Augustus. According to a Senatus consultum quoted by Macrobius, he chose this month because it was the time of several of his great triumphs, including the conquest of Egypt. Commonly repeated lore has it that August has 31 days because Augustus wanted his month to match the length of Julius Caesar's July, but this is an invention of the 13th century scholar Johannes de Sacrobosco. Sextilis in fact had 31 days before it was renamed, and it was not chosen for its length

August's birthstones are the peridot, sardonyx, and spinel. Its birth flower is the gladiolus or poppy, meaning beauty, strength of character, love, marriage and family. The Western zodiac signs are Leo (until August 22) and Virgo (from August 23 onward)

 Those late August mornings 

smelt of autumn 

from day-break 

till the hour when the sun-baked earth

 allowed the cool sea breezes

 to drive back the then less heavy aroma 

of threshed wheat, 

open furrows, 

and reeking manure.

August

 

As we stood there older than men
And younger than the boys (that's right)
We were as still as the wind
That blows on a hot August night

The wild boys are calling
On their way back from the fire
In August moon's surrender to
A dust cloud on the rise

August

 The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning, 

The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, 
and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, 
but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. 
It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.

August

 August is the slow, gentle month that stretches out the longest across the span of a year.

 It yawns and lingers on with the light in its palms.

This morning, the sun endures past dawn. 

 it is August: the summer's last stand.

 

If June was the beginning of a hopeful summer, 

and July the juice middle,

 August was suddenly feeling like the bitter end.

Everything good, everything magical happens between the months of June and August

 August is the border between summer and autumn;

 it is the most beautiful month 

 

August slipped away into a moment in time

August

 The month of August is the eighth month in the Roman. calendar, 

it represents the understanding of. regeneration, or new beginning.

August

 

August is the slow, gentle month that stretches out the longest across the span of a year.

 It yawns and lingers on with the light in its palms.

This morning, the sun endures past dawn. 

 it is August: the summer's last stand.

As we stood there older than men
And younger than the boys (that's right)
We were as still as the wind
That blows on a hot August night

The wild boys are calling
On their way back from the fire
In August moon's surrender to
A dust cloud on the rise

August

The Emperor Octavian, called the August, 
I being his favorite, bestowed his name 
Upon me, and I hold it still in trust, 
In memory of him and of his fame.
 
I am the Virgin, and my vestal flame 
Burns less intensely than the Lion's rage; 
Sheaves are my only garlands, and I claim 
The golden Harvests as my heritage.

The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning, 
The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, 
and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, 
but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. 
It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.



Twilight is the border between day and night,
the shore is the border between sea and land. 

The border is longing: 
when both have fallen in love but still haven’t said anything.
 The border is to be on the way. 
It is the way that is the most important thing.

 August is the border between summer and autumn;
 it is the most beautiful month 




August rain: 
the best of the summer gone, 
and the new fall not yet born. 
The odd uneven time.









Those late August mornings smelt of autumn 

from day-break 
till the hour when the sun-baked earth 
allowed the cool sea breezes 
to drive back the then less heavy aroma 

of threshed wheat, 
open furrows, 
and reeking manure.





 In August, 
the large masses of berries, 
which, when in flower, had attracted many wild bees, 
gradually assumed their bright velvety crimson hue, 
and by their weight again 
bent down 
and broke their tender limbs.