If You Met An Alien, What Would You Tell And/or Ask Them?

I will miss the Raccoons.

Errr Tonny here, you haven’t reported back to me since i gave you that xan.. you okay man?

( @coke-n-dope )

If by ‘okay’ you mean having ‘a fascinating exercise in futility,’ then sure, it went great. I did my research. I was responsible. I accounted for every possible variable—set a timer, had water ready, prepared an ideal environment, even had a list of things to do in case I started feeling weird. Which was, in hindsight, incredibly naive, because there is no logical preparation for feeling like your brain is unraveling in slow motion. No amount of planning prevents the creeping dread that your heartbeat is somehow both too slow and too loud. At one point, I was convinced I had unlocked a hidden layer of reality where time moves at half-speed and all sounds echo.

Long story short: I will not be pursuing further studies in pharmacology

Everyone keeps telling me to sell my house. I won’t. No matter what happens. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to lose something else again.

tbh with all this chaotic back and forth I think you and Will should just say ‘fuck it’s and get together.

You’d at least make a pretty couple.

I am unsure whether this was meant as a joke or a serious proposition. If it was a joke, I have to admit—

it was actually quite funny.

Really? How?.

If you met an alien, what would you tell and/or ask them?

Okay. First off: how do you breathe? Do you breathe? What kind of atmosphere are you used to? Is oxygen poisonous to you? Do you metabolize something else entirely? And your gravity, how strong is it? Do you walk upright? Do you even need to walk? What’s your skeletal structure like? Do you even have bones?

What’s your biology based on? Is there a version of DNA where you’re from? Or is it something entirely foreign to us? What’s your body temperature? Do you even need to regulate it? Do you get cold?

Do you perceive time linearly? Do you dream? Have you categorized your stars yet? What are your units of measurement? Do you know what we are? Have you been watching us the way we’ve imagined you?

And I think… after all that..I’d probably just say:

I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. Not you specifically, maybe. But the possibility of you. And now I have about a million more questions.

The Pleiades

I don’t think love should have to be a fight.

If it is, maybe it’s not love, it’s just war with different rules.

But I think some things stay even when you stop fighting. Probably not everything, but the important things. Thats how I see this. Maybe one day you feel that you won’t have to fight anymore.

Good evening Nigel,

I was at the National art gallery with Beth this afternoon. I saw Botticelli’s ‘Venus and Mars’ there, it is an absolute study in paradox!. About forces that should collide yet instead settle into something resembling harmony. It reminded me of space in that way. Mars, the god of war, lies unconscious, unarmed, seemingly at peace. Venus, the goddess of love, seems watchful but unaffected, an island of serenity beside him. She has not conquered him. She has not subdued him. And yet, in her presence, he is still.

Many people would assume that love triumphs over war, that beauty tames violence. But I think Botticelli offers something more intricate. Venus does not demand change. She does not impose softness upon Mars. She simply exists, and in doing so, creates the conditions for stillness. Mars, so accustomed to unrest, is given a rare and unfamiliar gift—the absence of conflict. And he does not resist it.

The tension here is not one of struggle, but of transformation. Venus has not altered Mars, she has only revealed what he is capable of being. I imagine this as love at its most potent—not forceful, not possessive, but a quiet invitation to become. There is no battle between them, no need for submission or control. Instead, they are two opposing forces that, for a moment, find equilibrium. Together.

This is the paradox I was speaking of : not that one must destroy the other, but that they can coexist. In Metamorphoses, Ovid describes their relationship as both passionate and volatile, yet Botticelli captures something…subtler. Venus does not try to change Mars, nor does she fear him. She understands him. And understanding, more than any weapon, has the power to disarm.

I remember Beth asking ‘Why does Venus choose Mars? Her husband Vulcan presents as a more fitting counterpart, someone more aligned with her nature’. I answered that, perhaps love is not drawn to reflections of itself, but to contrast. To the possibility of transformation. Venus does not force Mars to lay down his weapons. He does so on his own, because in her presence, he does not need them.

There is power in that, in my opinion. A kind of power that does not shout, does not demand, but simply is. Not dominance, but invitation. Not submission, but balance.

And it reminded me of you.

Well, shit… you’ve really got me here, don’t you? Never thought I’d be sitting here, having someone talk to me about love like that, beautiful. It’s funny though. Mars? Peaceful? Never thought I’d see the day.

An invitation, huh? Not a fight, not a conquest, not a struggle to win someone over. Just... being. That’s a new one for me. Love makes me do some fucking crazy things, but never like that.

If I’m being real, I don’t know if I believe in that kind of love. The kind that just fucking is. Hell, I’m not sure I’ve ever let someone just exist if I really loved them, or that I've ever felt like I can let myself relax that way, or if I even can. I’ve always thought that if you don’t fight and keep fighting to keep what you have, you end up losing everything.

Maybe you’ve got a point, Adam. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.

I’m glad you thought of me.

whats your favorite constellation? mine is boötes!

Lyra. It’s small, but distinct. The brightest star in it—Vega—was once the North Star, and it will be again in about 12,000 years. The sky shifts in ways we barely notice.

It’s named for Orpheus’ lyre. After his death, the gods sent it to the stars. A consolation prize. A memorial. I like that—how something once full of music is now silent, but still luminous. Still present.

Boötes is a good choice. The herdsman, always watching over the bears as they circle the pole. There’s something steady about it. Something patient. If Lyra is a lingering echo, then Boötes is the figure who listens to it, night after night.

I have Dr Lecter as my psychiatrist too!

Honestly I think I might ask for a referral to another psychiatrist. He speaks in prose, and I just cannot decode all his metaphors.

He's generally nice though.

I think I understand how you feel. Dr. Lecter does speak in a way that can be difficult to interpret. I ask him to clarify when I don’t understand, but he doesn’t always give a direct answer. He is very intelligent though. If the way he speaks makes things harder for you, then asking for a referral makes sense. The most important thing is having a psychiatrist who helps you the way you need.

Personally, Dr. Lecter and I understand things differently. He isn’t always direct, and I prefer clarity, but he doesn’t mind when I ask him to explain. He listens carefully and helps me notice patterns in my thoughts I hadn’t seen before. Even if I don’t always understand his metaphors, he makes me think in new ways, which is helpful.

Good luck with your therapy!

Really? In what aspects?

Hello, Adam. I was wondering if you have a favorite flower or plant or a favorite animal?

-Duncan.

Good evening Duncan!.

I do have a favorite animal.

Raccoons. Definitely raccoons. They’re highly intelligent, their problem-solving skills are impressive, and they have these incredibly dexterous little hands. Did you know that they can remember solutions to tasks for years? And they wash their food before eating it, which is both practical and oddly endearing. I often go to watch a family of raccoons at a park near me. They bring me joy.

As for plants, I think carnivorous plants are fascinating. They literally evolved to defy the usual order of things—plants aren’t supposed to consume animals, and yet, here they are. The Venus flytrap, for example, counts the number of times its trigger hairs are touched before closing, like it’s verifying the presence of prey. That kind of adaptation is remarkable. If find that they have a philosophical aspect to them.