Prankster Photons

Noodles for everyone

If quantum is the bottom, then that’s where I am starting. Just because I cannot see what the shrimp in the river are eating, I do not assume that they are not consuming. I have cleaned thousands of them. The ones in South Shrewsbury were small and almost transparent, or they were the same color as the river water, which was a blend of runoff, tidal flow, and effluent, depending on the season.

There is this whole thing about perception. My equipment gets me less than one percent of what is happening, in my estimation, and then there are the errors in processing the information. I bet shrimp are better equipped than most humans.

The snails in the river piled on dead things. It was easy to see that they were eating, what was another question. We absorb photons. Plants eat them. For ease of argument, prankster photons are driving the narrative in real time.

The backstory begins in the estuary. The Better Duck Inn is both the estuarial location of screen play creation, and where Macbeth’s noodles were being made long before poison oak got prednisone soaked into already prankster photon damaged psyche. Raven Ramen was the brand where Macbeath’s fortune came from. Raven as in Raving, remember? The demented old crow, with the noodle hanging from his maw? Thats the one.

I know, I know physics is boring. But even physics is less boring than the feed incoming. I find respite in the things that swim or crawl on the estuary’s bottom, like we did as children east of the Better Duck Inn’s close to Netflix’s massive construction project on the grounds of what was Fort Monmouth.

Morro Bay, California, a long way from the Shrewsbury River.