Distribution Automatique

Friday, January 23

Today, a movie called *The Butterfly Effect*,
starring Ashton Kutcher, will open that is about
someone who time travels by reading their own
journals. I don't exactly know what to think about
this. Certainly no one had ever heard about this movie
or its premise when I started *::fait accompli::spellbound
speculations:: time travel* on February 11,
2003. From that time on, I began writing frequently about my idea
of time travel, and blogging my journal which often
deals with time and time travel since the 70's. Time
travel is not a new idea, but doing it through journal
writing is something I never thought or heard about
before I began doing it. Also, I wonder if anyone else who
reads *fait accompli*, especially from early on, would make similar connections
with the premise of "The Butterfly Effect" that I do.
Then I start to think, maybe these people lifted my idea and rightfully
owe me some money, or at least a credit? But in
these days of artistic appropriation, maybe
their lifting my idea should be considered cool...I dunno...
It's a rather common dilemma, isn't it?

Perhaps the most disturbing thing about this, is related to why I
waited so long to publish most of these journals- although
my book *Theoretical Objects* (Green Integer, 1999)
is also culled from my journals
and deals with time travel in some of the pieces.
Truthfully, I've enjoyed the
privacy of my strange little experiment all these years.
Now a couple of movie producers turn my idea of time travel
through synchronistically connecting with early journal writing
into something "mainstream", tranforming it into something as accessible
and omnipresent as *The Gap.*
Yuck. On the other hand, if more people
start thinking about this particular possibility of time travel--
perhaps it will it become less
fiction and more reality? Who knows?
Only time will tell...ha-ha.

Anyway, here is a piece I blogged on *fait accompli* on 4/18/03:

I began to recognize the fact that some degree of evidence was likely to exist in the most recent notes I took. Chances are, going backwards in time, I would find fewer and fewer marked examples of what I was looking for. (Also, I have to take heed of who has succeeded me in breaking into the room, to discover its contents and who might have been there. Your mission, if you wish to accept it, is to try to remember and picture the inhabitants.)

Meanwhile, he could be there now, chuckling to himself that my ideal typewriter was all I ever really wanted out of it- not the words themselves, just that totally portable, ever ready to respond, trusty machine. Some joke.