CRAIG CONLEY (Prof. Oddfellow) is recognized by Encarta as “America’s most creative and diligent scholar of letters, words and punctuation.” He has been called a “language fanatic” by Page Six gossip columnist Cindy Adams, a “cult hero” by Publisher’s Weekly, a “monk for the modern age” by George Parker, and “a true Renaissance man of the modern era, diving headfirst into comprehensive, open-minded study of realms obscured or merely obscure” by Clint Marsh. An eccentric scholar, Conley’s ideas are often decades ahead of their time. He invented the concept of the “virtual pet” in 1980, fifteen years before the debut of the popular “Tamagotchi” in Japan. His virtual pet, actually a rare flower, still thrives and has reached an incomprehensible size. Conley’s website is OneLetterWords.com.
We tracked down a temporal anomaly to the First Pentecostal Church Of North Little Rock, Arkansas. Neither clock face agreed with the time in the world outside of the anomaly. "As if time at least were to coincide with itself, and I with it, as if time and its two times were one single time that still was not time, a time where always is now and anytime always" (Octavio Paz, A Draft of Shadows).
This temporal anomaly contains a purple haze near the middle. Plus, a magic word square surrounds the XII, with "word" spelled forwards, backwards, upside down, vertically, and upside down vertically. From Wilmington's 1923 yearbook.
We tracked down a temporal anomaly in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, "where time and space are in extreme disjunction and are never reconciled" (Jocelyn Martha Coates).
We tracked down a temporal anomaly in Barberville, Florida. All four faces of the clock agreed on the wrong time. Yet, via the gift of numerology, 1:44 does resolve to 9, so there's a coherence in the digits of the clock and phone.
We tracked down a temporal anomaly to the town clock of Marianna, Florida. "It makes it appear as if time were a mysterious something the measure of which is determined by man-made instruments, clocks" (Norbert Elias, Time).
Delay your mid-life crisis. As per Zeno, if you never reach your mid-point, you'll never reach your end.
Abhor setting your clocks to atomic time.
Learn to take long-exposure photographs at night. Long exposures open a hole in the fabric of Time. The click of the camera extends from a moment into minutes. Try it and you'll instantly feel how you stop aging. (If not, ask a doctor to accompany you on your night walk to monitor your eleven medical symptoms and signs of aging as you take long-exposure photographs.)
To mark off days on a calendar is to ensure that your days are numbered. Never ever cross off a day, no matter how loathsome.
Eschew wearing a wristwatch; a wristwatch leaves a mark — the mark of Time.
Investigate adjusting your circadian rhythm to a 25-hour day. Make every day count that little bit extra. Indeed, have "two Saturday nights in a Friday night, if you know what I mean" (as John Michael Higgins says in Best in Show).
Spend more time at the beach. It's a fallacy that the ocean makes one feel insignificant; on the contrary, one small step over tiny shells (each a life story) and ancient grains of sand (each an entire world, as per the immortal William Blake) is one giant leap for mankind.
The two sides of the town clock in delightfully charming Fairhope, Alabama display two different times, neither of which agrees with the time in the world outside of the anomaly. Poetic snippet from David Jaffin's Untouched Silences.
We tracked down a temporal anomaly to New Orleans' Greenwood Cemetery's clock tower, where all four sides were on separate time zones. "Meanwhile the clocks chime on and hours unroll as if time still existed and was somehow theirs" (Zsuzsa Rakovszky, New Life).
We tracked down a temporal anomaly to the Ocala National Bank. (Needless to say, none of the times on the clocks was correct.) On the back of the building is a door to nowhere, and around the corner of the same building is yet another door to nowhere ... so a space warp is obviously at the root of the temporal distortion. On the street practically under the clocks is a non-functional, ossified bank teller kiosk, itself frozen in time. Why not?
We tracked down a temporal anomaly to the Camden, Arkansas courthouse, whose clock tower is hands-free. We agree with Mark Bauer that "absence of data does not necessarily mean the absence of effect (which is listed as '—')."
We tracked down a very significant temporal anomaly to El Dorado, Arkansas. The symbol of Main Street is a clock, but none of the clocks on the town square agree on the time. Even the clock printed on the town square banner is correct only twice a day. El Dorado's Main Street has been named the best Main Street in the United States, and no wonder — the feeling of classic Americana is ... well ... literally timeless!
The two large clocks at the railway station don't run, but the passengers who trust them have to run if they wish to catch the train. From The Rio News, March 29, 1892.