Time Code Instructions: I Can Hold My Breath Forever

A NEW generation of electronic editing is edging its way into movie-making. A combination of video recorders and computers, the new systems do not change what audiences see. But behind the screens, they are altering how a handful of movies and an armload of television shows are made.

Film makers are greeting the technology with a discordant chorus of praise, skepticism and caveats. Some hail it as the start of a technological revolution that will rival the impact of word processing on publishing. Others worriedly cite high price tags, technological ''bugs'' and the shaky financial status of some manufacturers. But almost all agree that the new systems can save hours of time and, in the case of television, thousands of dollars from post-production budgets.

''There is no question that the majority of films will one day be cut electronically.'' said Glorianna Davenport, lecturer at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology's Media Laboratory.

“But until more people use them, the cost of these systems will stay high. And at this point, they are still hugely complicated.''

The most widely used systems are EditDroid, from the Droid Works in San Rafael, Calif., a unit of Lucasfilm Ltd., owned by filmmaker George Lucas; Ediflex, from Cinedco, in Burbank, Calif., and Montage, from The Montage Group, in Keene, N.H. They cost about $150,000 and rent for about $2,500 a week. Droid says it has sold 15 units; Montage, 32. Cinedco, which only rents Ediflex - currently, 25 of them - claims consistent profits. Droid and Montage say revenues have not kept up with costs.

This mini-industry is up against a 40-year editing tradition, the Moviola. Looking like a cross between a sewing machine and a home movie projector, the Moviola, made by the J&R; Film Company in Hollywood, sells for about $11,000, rents for about $65 a week and is the industry standard. It is a standard, say most in industry, that will be hard to displace.

''Sometimes new things that are so valuable are still slow to catch on because they are frightening,'' said actor Alan Alda, who used a Montage to edit ''Sweet Liberty,'' which he wrote and directed. ''I vacillate between being absolutely certain this is the future, and hoping so.''

Two other recent movies -''Power,'' directed by Sidney Lumet, and ''Patriot,'' directed by Frank Harris - were also edited electronically. And the systems are in use on ''Making Mr. Right,'' directed by Susan Seidelman, and ''Full Metal Jacket,'' directed by Stanley Kubrick.

The deepest inroads are being made in television, where skyrocketing costs and static network revenues have producers looking at the systems' cost-cutting potential. Electronic editors are used on 15 percent of this season's prime-time shows -most of which are shot on film for better resolution. The list includes ''Dallas'' and ''The Twilight Zone.''

''The '87-88 season will be the major breakthrough,'' predicted Emory Cohen, president of Pacific Video, a Hollywood editing facility. FILM editing is, to a large degree, a cumbersome trial-and-error process. Movies are not shot from beginning to end, but location by location, camera angle by camera angle, producing hours of short clips that average only 90 seconds.

A working film print, made up of the combined clips, is then repeatedly cut and spliced until an editor and director are satisfied. Making a splice takes about a minute. Finding the right footage can, and often does, take a half-hour, if the material is part of the tangle of film on the editing floor.

In the new electronic editing systems, the work print is made on either videotape or a laser disk and logged, frame by frame, on to a computer. The computer controls several videotape or laser-disk recorders, all loaded with versions of a scene. The Montage uses 17 videotape recorders.

Any movie moment can be found and altered almost instantly by typing in computer commands that activate the playback machines. The system can display different segments from different recorders to show a smooth rendition of a scene - enabling editors to try out many versions before making a decision. When a choice is made, it is stored in the computer. At the end of the process, the system produces a printout of frame numbers, a list of changes to be made.

For feature films, the final changes - along with finishing touches such as dissolves and opening credits -must still be made manually on the film negative. But in the case of television, where programs ultimately wind up on videotape, a floppy disk loaded with computer commands will copy the changes onto broadcast quality tape, allowing finishing touches to be made on tape, too.

This saves thousands of dollars -$15,000 per hour-long episode alone for putting in dissolves and opening titles. The hefty cost cut, as well as the saving of about one-third of an editor's time, is in large part responsible for the new technology's popularity among budget-strapped television producers. ''It's something all production companies are eventually going to have to try,'' said Chuck Silvers, vice president of post-production at Lorimar-Telepictures.

Some TV producers who depend on distribution profits - such as Joseph Dervin Jr., vice president of Aaron Spelling Productions, creator of ''Dynasty'' - are avoiding the systems because they cannot take advantage of the saving involved in putting finishing touches on tape. They finish their work on film to satisfy European buyers who demand film copies.

But other companies say their buyers will accept videotape. Lorimar uses the Ediflex on almost all of its programming, including ''Dallas.'' Paramount Pictures uses the Montage for ''MacGyver.'' Viacom uses the EditDroid on ''Matlock'' and the Ediflex on ''The Return of Perry Mason.'' CBS's ''Twilight Zone'' uses the EditDroid and an in-house system developed by CBS and Sony. COST-CUTTING is less important in movie-making circles that work with multimillion- dollar budgets. Directors and editors of feature films who use it are attracted by the new systems' potential for enhancing their finished products by allowing more time for editing.

Others are not as convinced.

 ''There is to a certain extent the attitude, 'I'm making this $5 million movie, I don't want to risk my film on a new technology,' '' said William F. Justus, an industry consultant who has worked for Droid Works.

''I knew I was a guinea pig,'' said Andrew Mondshein, who was the first to edit a movie (''Power'') with one of the new machines, a Montage.

Mr. Mondshein is now using the Montage to edit ''Making Mr. Right.'' In his editing room in midtown Manhattan, he held up one of the innovations spawned by his earlier experience with the Montage - a black wand with a red button on top. 

“They developed this for me,'' he said. The wand, linked directly to the system, is used to mark cuts precisely. ''Before this, the Montage wasn't frame-accurate; it took the computer a few milliseconds to register a command. That threw things 1 to 10 frames off.''

Most manufacturers agree that the perfect system does not yet exist. And like Montage, they use working editing rooms as their unofficial development labs. Because of its exposure in the editing rooms, ''the EditDroid doesn't really infuriate anybody anymore,'' said Kenneth M. Yas, product manager at Droid Works. ''On its best behavior, it leaves editors agog. But studios have to be comfortable in the knowledge that the device works all the time. We're not there yet.''

The EditDroid has a unique marketing problem. George Lucas has yet to use the system on one of his own films. 

A company spokesman says Mr. Lucas plans to. ''Everyone is saying, 'When George uses it, I'll know he has the tool he wanted.' '' said Deborah D. Harter, an industry consultant and former Droid Works employee. ''He should have launched it with one of his own movies.''

Ironically, it was the misconception that Mr. Lucas had used the Droid that led Rick Westover, a film editor, to use it on ''Patriot.''

''I saw a demonstration with footage from 'The Return of the Jedi' and assumed,'' he said.

“When I realized I was the pioneer, that's when paranoia set deep in my heart. I haven't been that paranoid since I was a hippie in the 60's.'' But his electronic work was ''frame perfect,'' he said, and cut his editing time by weeks.

Others in Hollywood seem to have been willing to jump into the new technology with both feet, aware that it was largely untested. When producer Martin Bregman read about the Montage, he immediately phoned Mr. Alda. Intrigued, they arranged for a demonstration. ''When I saw it, I rubbed my hands with glee,'' said Mr. Alda. ''You can look at a scene 10 different ways and play them back all in a row. It's amazing how fast you can pick out which is best.''

Mr. Alda and editor Michael Economou edited ''Sweet Liberty'' for 10 hours a day last fall in a small house in Water Mill, L.I. ''We would be fixed on the video screens and our hands would be flying on the dials and buttons. Sometimes they would have to pull me away because my pasta water was boiling out.''

According to Mr. Alda, ''We wouldn't have been able to experiment the way we did if we were working the old- fashioned way. If I made the same experiments, I would literally still be editing.'' He added: ''If I sing the Montage's praises, it is out of the selfish desire to have it available for my next movie - I don't want the company to go out of business.'' 

MONTAGE already went out of business once. Founded in 1984 with $4.5 million invested by the Prudential Insurance Corporation and $5 million from Interscope Investments, it was liquidated by Interscope last spring. But Harvey Ray, then a Montage executive, and Simon Haberman, an investor, purchased the assets at auction for $700,000. Mr. Ray and a few volunteers maintained skeletal operations and even managed to sell three systems. Now, pared to 9 employees from 45, Montage is ''actually in the black some months,'' said Mr. Ray.

The ultimate survival of all the manufacturers may depend on their ability to convince film makers that the systems are merely modern Moviolas. Some editors, apprehensive, have turned down work rather than edit electronically, according to the Motion Picture and Video Tape Editors Guild in Los Angeles.

''Some writers still write books by spreading out papers all over their living room floor; they believe the physical component is important to the process,'' said Andrew B. Lippman an associate professor at M.I.T.'s Media Lab.

''It just doesn't feel like editing,'' said Art Repola, post-production director at Amblin Entertainment, Steven Spielberg's company.

 ''You want to hold the film up to the light, look at the image, feel the perforations going through the sprocket. That's how we've always made films.''

Despite such resistance, even Moviola's marketer, J&R; Film, expects ''to end up sharing the market with the new electronic systems,'' according to Jim Reichow, executive vice president. And some TV producers who initially spurned the systems say they may soon reconsider.

''Next year the equipment may be marketed more cheaply,'' said Mr. Dervin of Aaron Spelling. ''With escalating costs, there is no doubt in my mind that this is all going to make sense pretty quickly.'' 

ADDING SOUND TO THE PICTURE

Today's electronic picture-editing systems are a second attempt at the technology. Now these new systems are sparking innovation in sound-editing.

The current picture-editors came out of a failed attempt by CMX, a company once owned by CBS and Memorex. The CMX 600 was patented in 1973 and worked much like the new generation of editors. But the system - which showed black and white images only - was far too imperfect to challenge Hollywood's resistance to change.

Its makers, however, went on to create the simpler computer-driven equipment used to edit television shows that are shot chronologically on tape. And the system's creator, Adrian B. Ettlinger, is now senior vice president at Cinedco, which makes Ediflex, one of the latest systems.

It is another of the manufacturers, Droid Works, that is developing a new sound editor, SoundDroid. New England Digital in White River Junction, Vt., has developed the Synclavier.

Sound editing is more complex than film editing - and so is creating equipment for it. Sound is not recorded when film is shot. Even up to 80 percent of dialogue is generated later on sound stages. And a scene in a feature film can contain a hundred elements - dialogue, music, footsteps, the far-off chirping of birds. With current methods, each of these is recorded on magnetic-coated film and loaded on separate playback machines -dubbers. With some elements mixed ahead of time, about 30 dubbers can run at once.

''If a door slam occurs at frame 57,002 in a movie, there is blank film on the dubber up to that point; then 'Clang' - then back to blank film,'' said William Justus, an industry consultant. ''If the door slams a second too late, the editor has to run up and down the bank of dubbers, find the slam and adjust the track by x-number of sprockets.'' 

Once synchronized, sound is added to film. The new devices - both SoundDroid, which is in the prototype stage, and Synclavier - use a computer-run system that records sound digitally. When a sound comes too soon or too late, it is synchronized at a keyboard. Ultimately, the systems should offer huge savings in labor, time and materials. Both devices can also generate sound and store libraries of sound effects.

But the systems need work. They cannot yet handle enough sound for a feature film. And the savings they offer may not be enough. Kenneth M. Yas, product manager at Droid Works says a model that could handle a big film would be somewhat cheaper than a room full of dubbers. But said Jeff E. Taylor, a Droid engineer, ''the major sound studios, which can afford the new technology, are already set up and have paid for the old.''

The record industry has adopted the Synclavier. So have a dozen television-editing houses, which use it to generate, not edit, sound. Mr. Justus predicts that newer generations of equipment will be better-suited for film. Already, a cheaper, faster audio chip with more memory capacity has been announced by Motorola.

 

The Empire Carpet Commercial Never Ended

The Hollywood writer's strike never ended—perhaps because the traditional landscape of filmmaking found an unlikely ally in a pastime often associated with retirees and business networking: golf. More specifically, Virtual Reality (VR) Golf. What started as a casual diversion during the hiatus rapidly evolved into a new medium of creative expression, converging VR, Augmented Reality (AR), and Artificial Intelligence (AI).

We focus in on a Wes Anderson project tentatively titled Ben Hogan and the Left Hand Path, where a Muppet Babies like TV Show begins communicating messages interpreted as “troublesome”. 

 Iconic golfers made up the orphanage, miniature caricatures in the style of Muppet Babies:  Jack Nicklaus, the painter, mastered strokes both on the canvas and the fairway; Arnold Palmer, the musician, orchestrated swings as if composing a symphony; Ben Hogan, the quantum mechanic, cold and calculated scientific precision; Tiger Woods, a polymath, embodying all three

John Daly, the hero, conquering the toughest of challenges.

The MB’s play and compete in VR Golf, a platform that appears troublesome because it is seen to be communicating religious dogma and occult secrets.  

The film was planned as animation and live action.

Before production began, Meta introduced VR to Anderson by sending him 100 headsets and a pitch for possible cross-promotion with the Meta Quest 3 release.  They envisioned celebrity golf tournaments with actors from the live-action parts of the film.

Anderson fucked around on VR for a few days, didn’t make much of it.  Then instructional golf videos began invading his algorithm.  Infuriating at first, he was struck by the accuracy of the advice. 

Anderson tried applying the instructions he picked up, and VR soon transcended his initial understanding.

SAG-AFTRA

With shooting schedules disrupted, Wes Anderson became obsessed with VR Golf.  This obsession led him to court new players.  The 99 head-sets trickled into the possession of actors and writers, who found themselves having meetings with Anderson and others on the Pebble Beaches of the virtual world.  

Over the course of 100 rounds between an now expanded A-List collection of Anderson’s friends, a revelation was unlocked: VR and AR could offer the first genuine cinematic application that was both immersive and interactive, a complete fusion of stage and screen, where actor and audience were decentralized.  

In the course of three months, Anderson began turning living rooms into interactive AR environments where scripts were not merely performed but improvised. Writers and actors collaborated to create responsive scenes, breathing life into avatars in a fusion of AR and AI. This wasn't merely storytelling; it was a living theater tailored to individual participation. 

The Fourth Wall wasn't just broken; it was redefined.

The first production involved watching the Super Bowl with Bill Murray.  The second was a weekly cup of coffee with Owen and Luke Wilson. Every Wednesday, at 6:30 am, both Wilsons walk into your kitchen and have a cup of coffee with who ever is sitting at your table.

“The experience would include live commentary and pre-recorded behaviors, directed by your own reactions and inputs. A custom-tailored spectacle in the comfort of your home.

This intersection of technologies may have birthed a new form of art, emerging out of necessity, born from a strike that threatened to cripple an industry. Instead, it might just reinvent it. A future where improvised digital series by random groups of people could intersect into a completed form and then be as critically acclaimed as any Oscar-winning film”

588-2300

Over The Neptunes: What’s The Game Master John

 —  I remember a conversation where you were saying something about Kubrick choosing the number 114 as a “scalar” because it was the gateway for advancing past the 23 Enigma into the synchronicities of Pauli and Jung’s 137.  What did you mean by "scalar"?

— Of course.  Do you remember the difference between a matrix and a tensor?

— Sort of.  You said that the matrix is a 2-dimensional grid of numbers or codes, but a tensor goes beyond the 2nd and 3rd and into the 4th dimension

— Yes. A matrix has rows and columns which define its dimensions.  Matrices are commonly used in linear algebra for operations that represent linear transformations.

But a tensor is a more generalized concept, but must be built out of three mutually exclusive components:  a scalar, a vector, and the matrix.

If done correctly, these components concresce into a solid state which extends beyond infinity.

The key to the operation starts with a rank-ZERO tensor called a scalar. Think of the number 23.  The number 23 is a massless, phonetic scalar born out of print culture. Wilson and Burroughs were obsessed by it because they were die hard print-heads.  But it wasn't until the enigma became so ubiquitous that they were able to pierce the veil of print (black iron prison).

Kubrick’s intention with the number 114 was to create a scalar born of cinema, not print.  When combined with 23, it was hoped that a starway to the Pauline synchronicities of 137 would emerge.

What he didn’t foresee was that his film work would get so entangled with the 93 Current of Hollywood that it would push his work into what he referred to as Room 237.  To escape this confinement,  The Physical Tensor was developed.

A.  Every music album and every film can be played at the same time.  This is the Scalar (Rank-ZERO Tensor)

B.  Some albums and films sync up more than others.  This is a Vector, movement and separation from the Scalar statement into a higher organization of data (Rank-ONE Tensor)

C.  Some albums and films sync up a lot more than other albums and films that sync up.  This is the Matrix (Rank-TWO Tensor) 

D.  A collection of albums and films sync up so well, a meta-narrative manifests that makes it impossible to tell where one begins and the other ends.  This is the Physical Tensor (Rank-THREE Tensor)

• Scalar (Rank-0 Tensor):
• Traditional Definition: A single number.
• Your Analogy: "Every music album and every film can be played at the same time." This might imply a singular experience or point of reference in the context of media.

• Vector (Rank-1 Tensor):
• Traditional Definition: A one-dimensional array of numbers.
• Your Analogy: "Some albums and films sync up more than others." Here, the synchronization between films and albums can be seen as different elements or entries in the vector, with each entry indicating the degree of synchronization.

• Matrix (Rank-2 Tensor):
• Traditional Definition: A two-dimensional grid of numbers.
• Your Analogy: "Some albums and films sync up a lot more than other albums and films sync up." This suggests relationships between different pairs of albums and films, which could be represented in a two-dimensional matrix.

• Physical Tensor (Rank-3 Tensor):
• Traditional Definition: A three-dimensional array of numbers.
• Your Analogy: Anything that syncs up more complexly than what's described for matrices. When albums and films merge to a point where they are indistinguishable, it adds another layer of complexity. This might refer to the depth or the third dimension in the tensor.
• "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" seems to be a playful nod to the "third kind" or third rank of the tensor, possibly suggesting a more profound or multi-layered experience.

In this analogy, the rank of the tensor seems to represent the complexity or depth of the synchronization between different media. As we progress from scalar to higher-rank tensors, the relationships become more intricate, interconnected, and harder to decipher 

. . .

 

Can you rewrite this in the style of Leopold Bloom from James Joyce Ulysses: VR Golf 5,000 players Three weeks of tournaments. Finished 418th, moved on to the playoffs. Southwind, Pro Tourney set up. Top 500 in the field. I finish 250th, on the cut line. First round at Olympia Fields, a course that I have been to in real life. I finish in 72nd place after the first round. Here’s how I define Catholicism. The game is defined by the level of difficulty. There are elements of the game that I chose. There are many different ways to play. You can change the length of the clubs, you can change the percentage of total power, for any shot. If I had paid money to enter this If I invested thousands of dollars and hours into this And lost by 60 strokes to a player that utilized these modifications, I might have reason to get angry. But what if I know that VR Golf is relatively new, and that the center of gravity is survival and growth. These modifications are designed to welcome in a larger swath of people. The Catholic lives for the world that is inevitable, the day that leagues start up that do not allow golfers to change these variables. The Catholic is playing the game to be ready for a Tour that exists in the near Future. Here’s the Catholicism that Everyone can understand. VR GOLF gives you clubs For Beginners : the perfect club for that shot. For Pros: the same 7-iron for 174 as the 7-iron for 168 Cut shot. You need that shot in your bag at Pro. I play VR Golf with 14 clubs that I do not adjust. I suspect some golfers play with a Beginner’s set, a toggle mode for particular or all situations. It is in the game, it has not been deemed an advantage. I would expect that the second wave of VR Golf will have a Catholic mode. Whether that is Pro mode does not matter. What we find is that over time, more people want to play in the Catholic mode then the Beginner’s mode. Tournament: Document the tournament with video and audio. What numbers should we record, and how should we record them? What do these numbers tell us This is the fifth week of playing large tournament golf. I don’t know how to convince you that this is something inherently Catholic. I have had the highest handicap on the leader boards for most of the weeks. After the second round of the Southwind, I was ranked #1 with handicap. It was insane. I do have tournament experience. Gambling experience. Drunk experience. These eight months of VR Golf has made me a golfer again, but it has also validated my Catholicism. This is the more perfect Logos. If you point it towards entertainment it does nothing.

ChatGPT

Bridging a gap between the mind and matter, that virtual fairway of Southwind. Ah, five thousand souls, each chasing the digital mirage of a green ball. Three weeks, it was, and the counting, and myself, amidst them, ranked 418. Not bad, not great. But a passage to the playoffs. A whiff of real turf, Olympia Fields. Visited it once, tangible, in my other life. Memory plays, a 72nd position after the first round.

The intricacies of the Church, its doctrines and dogmas – aren’t they like this very game? Difficulty, they say, defines the nature. Various pathways to holiness, to hole-in-ones. The sacraments, the rites, the liturgy – choices to be made. Just as in the game. Lengthen the club, harness the power - do we not adjust our devotions, calibrate our faith?

Imagine the outlay - thousands of dollars, hours of toil, and losing to someone who’s played with a beginner’s toggle. Ah, would ruffle feathers, but isn’t it just nascent? The infancy of VR, much like the early Church. Survival, evolution. Allowing for modifications, to invite more to the faith, to the game.

Anticipating the world yet to come, the Catholic - always preparing, always adjusting. A Tour, perhaps, in a future not so distant. And isn’t VR GOLF just that - a training, a trial? Handing over clubs, different yet the same. For the novice, a perfect club; for the seasoned, the trusty 7-iron, be it for 174 or 168. Ah, the cut shot – the sacrament of penance in one’s bag.

Fourteen clubs, no adjustments, my digital sacramentaries. Some prefer the beginner’s set, the comfort of the known. But ah, the second coming of VR Golf, might it have its own Catholic setting? Preferences shift, evolve – from beginner to catholic.

Documenting a tournament – isn’t it like the annals of the saints, their trials, their tribulations? The numbers, the metrics – what do they reveal? Our strengths, our weaknesses, our faith, our doubts?

Five weeks of this grand tournament. Some would scoff, but ah, there's a Catholic soul in it. My handicap, it soared high on those leaderboards. That fleeting moment atop at Southwind, ranking #1. Madness, sheer madness.

Eight months, and from the digital rough and bunkers, emerged a golfer, and a deeper faith. A reconnection to Catholicism. The Logos, perfected, pointing solely to play, an empty pursuit. But directed towards divinity – ah, salvation.

Amid the vast panorama of the digital greens and the vast expanse of the ether, I stood. Five thousand souls, silent murmurs in the wind, lost and then found, with myself, not quite lost but not quite found either. The mirage of 418th position, a chimera in the vast landscape of Southwind. Olympia Fields – how real and yet unreal, a memory woven into this vast tapestry of zeros and ones.

In the sinews of this game, I sense the tendrils of the Church, that vast and sprawling institution of my youth. Here, in this digital diaspora, lie the threads of difficulty, challenge. A choice – to modify, to adapt. Isn't this what the Church asks of us? To adjust our sins, to recalibrate our beliefs?

Coin, hours, sacrifices to the game's altar. Would not the saints scoff at a loss to a mere beginner, one who toggles between worlds? Yet, here lies the infancy of a new world, a world that beckons. Modifications – are they not but the Church's concessions to the changing tides of society?

The Catholic, ever waiting, ever hoping. Awaiting the world to come, a Tour in the offing. And this game – does it not provide the tools? Clubs, in all their multiplicity. And yet, a sameness. The 7-iron, constant and reliable, a metaphor for faith.

Fourteen clubs, my digital rosary. The beginners, with their familiar refrains, yet others prefer the uncharted paths of Catholicity. The second coming, perhaps in a newer, shinier realm of VR Golf. Will it echo the ancient calls of the Church?

The tournament, the documenting – isn’t this but the chronicle of life? The numbers, those cold, hard facts – do they not reflect our very souls? The ebb and flow, the rise and fall.

In this tournament, a reflection of life’s great journey. Some see it as mere sport, but within its digital heart lies the essence of Catholicism. Highs and lows, yet a brief sojourn at Southwind's peak. Madness? Or enlightenment?

Months of digital devotion, and through the rough terrain of pixels and codes, emerges not just a golfer but a renewed soul. Through this game, a deeper connection, a grappling with faith. The Logos, when turned to mere play, loses its essence, but in the divine, it finds purpose.

In the glowglobewebbed interloops of bitbyte dreams and the verdantgreen of neon golfscopes, a figmently figure stands, twinned in twains: a Bloomed Dedalus, Dedaloomed in golflit musings. Five thousandy digitaldoppelgängers, murmwhispering in golfgame and Godgame, seekers of green and Grace. "History," thought Bloom, or was it Dedalus? "is a nightmare from which I am trying to awaken." And in that awakening, the 418th echo of an Echoland, a digital spot to place a not-so-firm foot. Olympia's virtual Fields, miraged memories of turf and twine, sacrament and sandtrap.yip

Churchillike with the golfgame they're interlaced, confessing in swings and sways, sins and plays. “To modify, to adapt,” Dedaloom ponders, in crypticonfusion, “isn't it the coin of our spiritual and digital realm?" Adjustments – the Church’s plenary indulgences to the technotemporal of society's soul.

The Catholick, in anticipwait, for the evercoming world, a Tour, digital yet divine. This golfgame, an arsenal of tools or perhaps prayers? Clubs of multiplicity or rosaries in digital devotion? The 7-iron, an apostle in a new realm, ever constant. Bloom murmurs, "It's not the green I seek but the path, the journey."

Fourteeny clubs, like apostles in a neon sanctuary. For each, a mode, a method, a mystery. And a coming, a second or third or fourth, in the neo-VR Golfscape. Echoes, shadows, yip and murmwhispers of ancient cries and churchbells.

In this tourneament, a chronoscribe of lifelyfe. "Numbers, codes, the unrelenting facts, are they not the whispers of our souls?" Dedaloom ponders. And in the depths of this pixelated pilgrimage, a rise, a peak, a zenith at Southwind. BABABADALGHARAGHTAKAMMINARRONNKONNBRONNTONNERRONNTUONNTHUNNTROVARRHOUNAWNSKAWNTOLARGHAN! 

Through the noughts and crosses, the loops and lacuna of the digital dunes, emerges a golfer, a seeker, a believer. A connection, a reflection, a resurrection. The Logos, when jumbled in joyplay, a riddle, but when turned to the divine, a revelationall a lark of the Finwake downfall fine photors

Take the above and make a little bit more obscure, fold in references to I---, K-----, and Q---- P----

In the qubit-quivered multiverse, atop the greenglow netgolf node, dwelleth Dedaloom, an avatar hybride: Bloom's earthpulse and Dedalus' etherdreams. Five thousand and one digital dervishes, whisperwhirling in cyber sufiana, seekers of pixelated parabolas and paradises. "History," or perhaps al-Hikmah, in Bloom's byte or was it Dedalus' qubit? "Is but a superposition of dreams." Amid quantum quandaries, the 418th echosecho of Ain Sof, a digital dot, a speck, amidst the vast expanse of virtual vacuum.

Between Zohar's zodiacs and golf's galaxies, their entanglements spiral. “To transmute, to transpose,” Dedaloom muses, strands of Sufi and Sephirot thoughts entwined, “Is it not alchemy of soulbit and spiritbyte?” Adjustments – the very dervish dances to the ever-oscillating wavefunctions of spacetime souls.

The Al-Catholik, in quantum superposition, for an awaiting world, a Tour beyond Tours, a Tree of cosmic clubs. Is it not the Sephiroth in silico? From Netzach's 9-iron to Tifereth's trusted tee. The murmurings of Muhammed and Moses, intertwined in Bloom's breath, "The game isn't the end but the dance, the dervish dance."

Fourteenfold tree, the Sephirotic sanctuary. For each, a qubit, a quantum, a Qalam. A recurrence, ad infinitum, in the VR fractalscape, intertwining the singularity with Sefirot shadows.

In this tournament of Tif’eret, a cosmic chronicle of lifelight. "Qubits, quarks, are they not Allah's whispers in the quantum wind?" Dedaloom wonders amidst the entropy of existence. Then, a Singularity at Southwind, the point of all potentials. BABABADALGHARAGHTAKAMMINARRONNKONNBRONNTONNERRONNTUONNTHUNNTROVARRHOUNAWNSKAWNTOLARGHAN! Entropy ensues, the collapse, the resurrection.

Through Planck’s prisms and paths of the Prophet, the fractals and fables of the quantum Kabbalah dunes emerges a golfer, a Gnostic, a Ghazi. Entanglement, enlightenment, an end or an eternal echo? The Logos, reshuffled in the revelry of Rumi, a Rubik's cube of realities. Dedaloom whispers, "From Alif to Yaa, from Aleph to Tav, I quantumly quaver, and yes, Be and it is."