JR Pfeiffer

@oceansoftruth.bsky.social

72 Followers 172 Following

OCEANS OF TRUTH IN THE SUMMER OF LOVE San Francisco: 1967. Phoebe Noguchi is a freelance photographer; Janey Cragg plays electric piano in an avant-garde jazz quartet. When they meet, a flame is kindled. And then… a murder happens. Summer 2026

Phoebe grasped the front of my granny dress, and gathered me in for a kiss. After a couple of lifetimes, she gazed into my eyes, drawling “Go get ’em, Tiger.” Then she turned and left the green room.
One of the walls of Bruce Wayne's study, showing flocked, patterned wallpaper in green and off-white, symmetrically surrounding the secret portal to the Batcave, which had been hidden behind this wall. There are two shiny brass poles for our heroes to slide down, much like the poles in a firehouse, with a stenciled sign on each one. The pole on the left is marked "DICK," and the pole on the right is marked "BRUCE." The wall behind the poles is made of concrete, and "ACCESS TO BATCAVE VIA BATPOLES" has been stenciled on that wall in the space between the two poles. The right edge of the sliding mahogany bookcase that had hidden this secret area is visible on the left side of the portal.
Earth Is a Test Case for the Fermi Paradox The scientific world that twentieth-century physicist Enrico Fermi was part of had reached the point of realizing that intelligent extraterrestrial life has almost certainly developed in many places in the universe. But given that, many people wondered why we haven’t run across it. Fermi, being well-known, and having posed the conundrum in a memorable way—“Where is everybody?”—wound up having this paradox named after him. There are lots of reasons that people advance for why we haven’t seen any signs of intelligence beyond our own planet. One of the more prominent ones is that there might be a threshold that many civilizations reach where they are intelligent enough to be able to destroy themselves—without having enough sense not to. And now, we ourselves are a test case for the Fermi paradox. The climate window is closing, as the nuclear window expands. And yet we sit. And yet we wait. Yeah, maybe we protest a few times a year. When we could be moving mountains.
Humanity Needs You Disentangle your spirit. Attune yourself to the pulse of your soul. Be curious. Stay furious. Above all, keep learning. Unleash a chaotic yet rhythmic propulsion— Relentless, untamed, unyielding—
Oceans of Truth in the Summer of Love Black Power. Vietnam. Peace and love. It’s 1967 in San Francisco, and the Haight-Ashbury is 
entering the Summer of Love. Phoebe Noguchi works as a freelance photographer; 
Janey Cragg plays electric piano in an avant-garde jazz 
quartet. When they meet, a flame is kindled. And then… someone is murdered
Roiling clouds with these words superimposed: “I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.” – Isaac Newton
miasma how do we shatter this stasis box? this miasmatic complacency? am i really just a pillar of salt? or flesh and blood and heart and brain and bone?
Fractal-like patterns in a turbulent sky, as dusk approaches. Will we act?
miasma how do we shatter the stasis box . . . the miasmatic complacency . . . am i really just a pillar of salt . . . or flesh and blood and heart and brain and bone?
All They Have… All they have is brutality and lies. Bluster, innuendo. Fear. All we have is heart, and hope; Outrage, resolve, creativity; Clear-eyed reason, gumption— Here, in the reality-based community, All we have… is each other.
Yearning As we confront the fascist regime, We uncover and reveal The deepest layers of our own humanity— The most precious thing we have. It’s always been there, Waiting to be seen, hoping to be needed. And now it’s newly refreshing itself, As we clear away decades of cobwebs and dust.
The Heart of our Humanity Walls erected, year after year… hemming us in. And those who have cast off the good of the intellect Jeer down upon us from the summit of those walls, Chanting—ranting—“Abandon all hope!” This chatter contends with the shrieks from below— Of those ensnared in the basements of Hell. How long will the chattering daze us? How long will we shut out the shrieks? How long till we notice that only our wits And only our own two hands Can topple these walls that rein us in? These walls that foreclose the radiant dance of us—THE MANY—in all our variegation. These walls obscuring the sobering truth: No matter our nation or station, Humanity’s heart beats as one.
A poster that says in bright orange type, as well as type that is pale yellow and some that is white: 11-05 11 AM NATIONAL MALL WASHINGTON MONUMENT TRUMP MUST GO NOW! The poster has a mauve background with two blocks of text repeated over and over again running down the page and arrayed in three columns. In bright pink type that looks like it was written with an old-fashioned quill pen, it says “IMAGINATION makes us human.” Above that phrase, washed out brown typewriter type says “FASCISM slams the door on”, as if fascism is slamming the door on our collective imagination. Which it does.
The Hollow Throne: Part 1 The Hollow Throne Once upon a time, the land of Begonia flourished, and all was well. And then, one day, a mysterious storm ravaged the capital, proceeding at once to the countryside, destroying the people’s crops. A wizard appeared in the midst of the storm, and demanded the fealty of the Begonians, on pain of further destruction. Seeing no alternative, they yielded. But a handful among them said, “No!” The wizard erected a castle, where once their parliament stood. He built himself a golden throne, encrusted with diamonds and emeralds.
Suddenly, they cried as one, “No! No! No! Out you must go! Go away! Go away! Get out! Get out!” And then, as they were chanting this, the people saw the myrmidons freeze. The beady eyes of each myrmidon glazed. Every cruel jaw went slack. “Get out! Get out! Go away! Go away! No! No! No! Out you must go!” One by one, the myrmidons twisted, turning slowly away from the crowd. And then, all at once, the bejeweled throne, the hollow throne encrusted with stones, swallowed the wizard and sucked in his minions, and the wizard’s destruction receded.
“Too bad, ye scurvy dogs and knaves. You’ll wish that you did have something to give, once we’re through with you.” But a handful among them said, “No! No! No! Out you must go! Go away! Go away! Get out! Get out!” And this time, at the sound of their shout, more of the folk lost their fear, “No,” they cried out, joining in with the handful. “No! No! No! Out you must go! Go away! Go away! Get out! Get out!” The myrmidons brandished their spears and their swords and raised them high in the air. But this time, the rest of the crowd arose: “Get out,” they said, “Get out!”
But the throne itself was hollow inside. The wizard had brought an army of myrmidons, each more menacing than the last. And the people cowered in fear. But a handful among them said, “No!” There being no crops, the people lacked food. Yet the myrmidons demanded immediate tribute. “The wizard must fill up his hollow throne with sapphires and rubies and more. Yield us your produce, ye ne’er-do-wells, or you’ll live no longer!” “But we have naught,” they cried. “What would you have us do?”
Once upon a time, the land of Begonia flourished, and all was well. And then, one day, a mysterious storm ravaged the capital, proceeding at once to the countryside, destroying the people’s crops. A wizard appeared in the midst of the storm, and demanded the fealty of the Begonians, on pain of further destruction. Seeing no alternative, they yielded. But a handful among them said, “No!” The wizard erected a castle, where once their parliament stood. He built himself a golden throne, encrusted with diamonds and emeralds.
A cellphone lock screen displays a photo of an exhibition copy of Toyo Miyatake’s black-and-white photograph Hand and Barbed Wire taken at an exhibit of memorabilia from the World War II–era Japanese concentration camps in the United States of America. Miyatake’s photo shows a guard tower and barbed wire at the perimeter of the Manzanar concentration camp. In his photo, a hand holds a pair of wire cutters, poised as if to cut the barbed wire, so the people inside can escape to their freedom. The lock screen has four round widgets, the rightmost of which indicates that sunset occurred at 5:31 pm. The date and time appear in prominent type near the top of the screen, indicating that it is 5:55 (pm) on Friday, January 31.