Sunday, 6 August 2017
Thursday, 13 September 2007
Happy Birthday, Martin - part I
Greg stumbled down the facility steps in the same manner as he did every year - hesistantly, leaning against the heavy railings while he adapted to the pressure of the season, cynically considering a hemisphere of stellar promises and bulletins, finally dumping his personal effects near the drains, complete with the box in which they had waited so patiently for him. Only the expression on his face differed from the previous year's expedition and that was because Greg was deeply worried.
No-one else on the rails could be said to be worried, nor elated, angry or sad - a slight giddiness, hesistance or pre-occupation corresponded to a dip in capability, in competence, so an overt display of emotion could only be bad news to anyone nearby and no-one wanted to be forced into an intervention. Most assumed the doctrine of the stiff upper lip, nowadays, and Greg realized his error, quickly composing his features in a disinterested mask, betraying - if anything - a slight boredom, a splitting image of any of the other busy people traversing the rail system, and every bit as cool to companionship. Not bad at all that after half a year of seclusion and ordeal one could be so closely and immediately re-assimilated, but then it was nothing new to Greg. He did this every year, or in this case, slightly more often still, and that was what he was worried about - for what ever reason, they had let him out one day too early.
It was simply disastrous.
He entertained the possibility that he had miscalculated the sentence he tried so hard to earn, but he was adamant that he had acted correctly; it was distinct and fresh in his mind that animal abuse was worth a month in the slam, incrementing by a month for each further offense. Hadn't Lasry, his lawyer, confirmed that much when he had called? And since the system couldn't afford to distinguish without greatly confounding the already byzantine legal lexicon - not to mention fueling the ire of the various pressure groups, and there really was one for every minute consideration, these days - three flushed rats would seem to qualify one for the same detainment period that you'd expect for hacking the antennae off of the three tallest giraffes in the pens, and those girls got rarer every season. "No, this must be a policy thing", Greg thought. "It can't be a gift for my good behaviour, because I was simply awful every time I had the opportunity to be," and then had to think about something else, because remembering the uncouth acts he had performed inside drew his face into an unpleasant grimace.
Things got more complicated every year, and this was the result. His feet drew him inexorably onto the tracks and then diverted him onto a flyway which egressed near his home (that old manor, the one he'd rather avoid through confinement than spend even a night there) upon which he walked as slowly as possible, shuffling like a children's clockwork toy, desperate to keep its footing on an incline. This was not where he wished to go, but it was too late to make plans and in any case, on a day like today it was a magnet; Greg grinned as he restrained his body, moving as sparingly as possible in order to delay his inevitable arrival.
Greg had spent every one of his previous birthdays behind bars, as they used to say, through his own designs in every case but the first, the event that had precipitated it all; his mother had snapped on her own birthday (exactly opposite Greg's own on the celestial calendar, a fact which astrologists had urged psychiatrists to consider grave and consequential) and had tried to electrocute him with a severed flex-cord for reasons unknown - presumably something of the mothering instinct had become deeply corrupted on what was after all an emotional day; Greg had overpowered her in a panicking frenzy, falling on her in such a way that had fate touch the exposed elements to his mother's brow, causing both of them to be coursed with that surging, addictive, uncontainable energy - unlike her, he had survived from the atomy inwards, requiring whole new folds of fat and flesh but still retaining his mind and his pulse. Following his reassembly, Greg was confined to a ward under the reasoning that it would take time for him to come to terms with his shock - a pun that was lost on the operatives there, at least until his back was turned. He played along with the shrinks, allowing them to read damage into his behaviour, even affecting a slight sluggishness and ideosyncracy in his speech, but in secret he was happier than he'd ever been before - more vitalized and commanding of a hitherfore unawakened purpose. The ordeal, instead of damaging his powers of communication or capability, had only caused the deterioration of his morals.
They had released him on the day following his 16th birthday; he had spent it climbing the walls in pursuit of some unseen goal, and this exuberance was interpreted as the final sign that he was ready to tackle society, head-on. As the air greeted him, so did a gray old nurse, who told him that he was to be known as "Martin" from that moment onward - this was the last step in "locking away the old, frightened self and presenting a fresh, approachable new face to the world," - and presented him with a nametag that said so, along with a fresh change of woollen clothes which he abandoned, more or less immediately, in the middle of the road.
In any case, that facility closed the very next year following an investigation into certain therapeutic techniques of dubious benefit, and with hindsight, Greg could see why. Martin, Greg thought, was a cretin with only a stiff upper lip to his credit - and what use was that?
----------------
Now playing: Phew - [View #03] Act [foobar2000 v0.9.4.3]
via FoxyTunes
No-one else on the rails could be said to be worried, nor elated, angry or sad - a slight giddiness, hesistance or pre-occupation corresponded to a dip in capability, in competence, so an overt display of emotion could only be bad news to anyone nearby and no-one wanted to be forced into an intervention. Most assumed the doctrine of the stiff upper lip, nowadays, and Greg realized his error, quickly composing his features in a disinterested mask, betraying - if anything - a slight boredom, a splitting image of any of the other busy people traversing the rail system, and every bit as cool to companionship. Not bad at all that after half a year of seclusion and ordeal one could be so closely and immediately re-assimilated, but then it was nothing new to Greg. He did this every year, or in this case, slightly more often still, and that was what he was worried about - for what ever reason, they had let him out one day too early.
It was simply disastrous.
He entertained the possibility that he had miscalculated the sentence he tried so hard to earn, but he was adamant that he had acted correctly; it was distinct and fresh in his mind that animal abuse was worth a month in the slam, incrementing by a month for each further offense. Hadn't Lasry, his lawyer, confirmed that much when he had called? And since the system couldn't afford to distinguish without greatly confounding the already byzantine legal lexicon - not to mention fueling the ire of the various pressure groups, and there really was one for every minute consideration, these days - three flushed rats would seem to qualify one for the same detainment period that you'd expect for hacking the antennae off of the three tallest giraffes in the pens, and those girls got rarer every season. "No, this must be a policy thing", Greg thought. "It can't be a gift for my good behaviour, because I was simply awful every time I had the opportunity to be," and then had to think about something else, because remembering the uncouth acts he had performed inside drew his face into an unpleasant grimace.
Things got more complicated every year, and this was the result. His feet drew him inexorably onto the tracks and then diverted him onto a flyway which egressed near his home (that old manor, the one he'd rather avoid through confinement than spend even a night there) upon which he walked as slowly as possible, shuffling like a children's clockwork toy, desperate to keep its footing on an incline. This was not where he wished to go, but it was too late to make plans and in any case, on a day like today it was a magnet; Greg grinned as he restrained his body, moving as sparingly as possible in order to delay his inevitable arrival.
Greg had spent every one of his previous birthdays behind bars, as they used to say, through his own designs in every case but the first, the event that had precipitated it all; his mother had snapped on her own birthday (exactly opposite Greg's own on the celestial calendar, a fact which astrologists had urged psychiatrists to consider grave and consequential) and had tried to electrocute him with a severed flex-cord for reasons unknown - presumably something of the mothering instinct had become deeply corrupted on what was after all an emotional day; Greg had overpowered her in a panicking frenzy, falling on her in such a way that had fate touch the exposed elements to his mother's brow, causing both of them to be coursed with that surging, addictive, uncontainable energy - unlike her, he had survived from the atomy inwards, requiring whole new folds of fat and flesh but still retaining his mind and his pulse. Following his reassembly, Greg was confined to a ward under the reasoning that it would take time for him to come to terms with his shock - a pun that was lost on the operatives there, at least until his back was turned. He played along with the shrinks, allowing them to read damage into his behaviour, even affecting a slight sluggishness and ideosyncracy in his speech, but in secret he was happier than he'd ever been before - more vitalized and commanding of a hitherfore unawakened purpose. The ordeal, instead of damaging his powers of communication or capability, had only caused the deterioration of his morals.
They had released him on the day following his 16th birthday; he had spent it climbing the walls in pursuit of some unseen goal, and this exuberance was interpreted as the final sign that he was ready to tackle society, head-on. As the air greeted him, so did a gray old nurse, who told him that he was to be known as "Martin" from that moment onward - this was the last step in "locking away the old, frightened self and presenting a fresh, approachable new face to the world," - and presented him with a nametag that said so, along with a fresh change of woollen clothes which he abandoned, more or less immediately, in the middle of the road.
In any case, that facility closed the very next year following an investigation into certain therapeutic techniques of dubious benefit, and with hindsight, Greg could see why. Martin, Greg thought, was a cretin with only a stiff upper lip to his credit - and what use was that?
----------------
Now playing: Phew - [View #03] Act [foobar2000 v0.9.4.3]
via FoxyTunes
I AM TESTING MY INTERNET CAPABILITIES
so, doth FoxyTunes signatures work? Let's see:
----------------
Now playing: Jun Togawa Band - [Togawa Fiction #03] Mon Cher, Je Suis à Paris [foobar2000 v0.9.4.3]
via FoxyTunes
----------------
Now playing: Jun Togawa Band - [Togawa Fiction #03] Mon Cher, Je Suis à Paris [foobar2000 v0.9.4.3]
via FoxyTunes
Thursday, 30 August 2007
state of self
I want to join an ascetic sect; to own nothing more than a robe and a bowl. I'll accept any religion with such an order if they allow me to join, but I will not consider its tenets or scriptures - merely let them baptise me in my indifference. I don't want to be attached to anything or have an opinion on any topic; I want to become anonymous to myself and have no characteristics or ego, no tastes, eccentricies or preferences. I don't want to be anyone's tool, not even my own unwitting servant. I'd like to wither away without acknowledging my own passing. I'd like to be separate from the fruits of other people's labour - away from technology and from youth, from the industrial and from the field. Is this also a desire I should attempt to shed, to annul? I had hope that simply by doing nothing, chaos would spin me and push me towards different things, if not better things, and I see that it hasn't happen, and can't - there are no better things. So, I wish to withdraw. Can this wish be granted, in these modern times, without resorting to death? I believe it can be, by total self-denial - I want to achieve my own state of limbo and not the violent, public one expected of me.
Often I trick myself into believing that this is what I am achieving simply by bombarding myself with noise or tricking myself into hypnosis with a monitor, but I know that this is the opposite of what I wish for - sensory overload is cheap and easy to attain. Give me total silence.
Diogenes was lucky to have lived so many centuries ago.
Often I trick myself into believing that this is what I am achieving simply by bombarding myself with noise or tricking myself into hypnosis with a monitor, but I know that this is the opposite of what I wish for - sensory overload is cheap and easy to attain. Give me total silence.
Diogenes was lucky to have lived so many centuries ago.
Friday, 17 August 2007
top ten albums
Thursday, 16 August 2007
Speaker Five's Dilemma
① To start: The last truly enlightened being to join us ascended two hundred years past. Why is this? Do your worlds not stimulate the collective unconscious? Perhaps you have mistaken such a concept for that of instinct? We like to think that if you avoid the most obvious decisions then others will present themselves. No hero worth the name reacts without thinking - we call those beings animals.
② No-one writes sagas anymore. Cameras are too resentful to capture a hero's greatest moments - they're here to hold them liable. If you can't force your way into the history books - and let's face it, plead to our jury of self-loathing, post-barbaric revisionists and anti-intellectual iconoclasts, there's no room left for the names of anyone who can't kick a ball - then it's time for a more insidious approach.
⑨ Register scorn for speaker two; your race is too closely scrutinized for any subterfuge.
③ In any case, subtlety achieves little. Tragedy captivates us more than benevolence, so each of us will dare to be that little bit more reckless than the other and, through neglect, we'll participate in a grim roulette in hope of acquiring notoriety even of a regrettable nature. Performance, philosophy and science will be measured on the Richter scale and names carried and repeated by the human resonance will summon the apocalyptic riders one by one -
① Register scorn for speaker three; such rhetoric is not welcome in our council of peers. Secondly, remain anonymous. Thirdly, what of virtue?
④ Redefined as a regrettable trait. All possible opinions on the twin moons are aligned with a certain cause. Virtues have been evenly spread between them; now no-one can argue on behalf of true altruism.
② All you do is qualify the opinions of the unqualified. Spread the idea of muted fate and you won't be required to manage all sides of a debate.
① Your methods are oppressive, yet is it not true that we came to hold our positions thanks to our morality?
⑨ Register scorn for speaker one.
① I restate.
⑨ Scorn. You know that morality is a fable of guidelines, flimsy when met with temptation. All planets have replaced this inefficiency with a system of hard mental blocks. We can rely on these ineffable directives more than we can on your code of honour.
③ Attest.
⑤ The next to sublimate into our company will be one of your animals, speaker one, and to refer to one so is an underestimation of the power such a focused mind will bring to the cogence.
⑦ Not so fast, speaker five. You presume that one of your clones will bring benefit to the table when we already have one such advocate of mindlessness among us -
⑤ Scorn. Would that a battery drone replace your ego -
⑨ Cease.
④ Truly the twins are a fruitless experiment now that we know that all sublimations occur thanks to the agitation and bombardment of the psyche. The very idea that a race in full compliance and agreement could evolve into anything but an ants' nest is -
⑥ + ⑧ Ridiculous. And unsubstantiated by any research.
① Yet no-one is closer to achieving the harmony which a planetary awakening demands. Speaker seven, my hope rests in your success - tell us about your progress.
⑦ My world is young and its people are pioneers; each race reaches out to meet its neighbours. Soon a mutual network will be formed and the planet will work towards a noble goal. All this is achieved without my personal meddling, thanks to the basic spirit and health of my planet. You who cultivate negatively and deny the basic vitamin of ascendency will be harshly rewarded, no matter how cruelly you wield your powers.
① Attest.
④ Most naive speaker, the people of your planet are not of one blood; if you wish for success you will instigate a war between the landwalking races. Co-operation will occur in no other way.
⑦ Oh, idiot war god, embittered by the ignominy of the pit, do your wounds ache still, addling your mind?
⑨ Register scorn for speaker seven; value the experiences of your peers.
⑥ + ⑧ Symbiosis has been known to arise between races. We would have undoubtedly succeeded in this task were we to have been blessed with better circumstances; as it is, our world seems to be doomed to destruction before any can escape.
⑦ Sweet sisters, your humility never fails to charm. My companion angels mean to say that speaker three's expansionism has denied them the chance to unfurl their wings.
③ Ha! Ha! Ha! You share your precious planet so well that I inferred the invitation. Besides, you loathe the land and that's all we have mined. Of course, it is to be regretted that the core of your planet has become so unstable, but I will save your sweet race - I invite you all to inhabit our orbitals made of the materials we have come to possess thanks to your welcome embrace of the drill. It is the least I can do.
⑥ + ⑧ Register scorn for speaker three thanks to her unforgivable arrogance. We speak for our unity when we say that we would rather die than breathe of enslavement.
① Attest to your sentiments and regret for your predicament.
⑦ Likewise, sisters. Know that I intend to intervene -
⑨ Challenge.
⑦ Proceed, youngest speaker, but you face humiliation.
⑨ Your motives become malicious when you attest to non-intervention before hypocritically moving to damage the aquatic project. Know that the majority of the cogence would dissuade you from pride -
① Register scorn for speaker nine; must you squash the only heroism evident in the council?
⑦ Furthermore you ascribe some false motive to the charity I offer. Please clarify why the actions I intend to perform are malicious.
⑨ Call speaker five.
⑤ All deliberate acts are evil; only instinct is honesty. Also, acts of good will lead to a tragedy just as surely as any declaration of war, evidenced in the luckless periods of speaker two's domain.
② Recognised and adjusted, primitive friend.
⑤ If the goal here is to bring about fulfillment of our heart-forsaken prophecy by introducing a tenth member to the pantheon then we must test our subjects at all times; intervention is fruitless and damaging to our interests. Surely this is transparent to us all.
① Must we not rescue each other in times of concern? Only then do we have the greatest chance of success.
⑨ Register scorn for such fallacious attempts at steering the cogence.
① I restate and note your logical lapse concerning speaker five's argu-
⑨ Add speaker one to the challenge.
[great murmurings]
⑤ Philosophy prevents me from speaking in such a way that contributes to speaker one's removal from the pantheon. It would be an evil act.
⑦ Attest! We agree on more than you suspect, great hunter.
⑨ Then by your abstension my challenge succeeds. Speakers three, six and eight back my vote.
[great murmurings]
⑦ Surely there has been a misunderstanding. I merely supported the beast's honour; you realise that I am forced by protocol to vote against your challenge.
⑨ As lead speaker I support no such protocol. Recommend that you return to prime to associate with your doomed symbiotic race. Take the elder with you; having contributed to his deposition I suspect you owe him a great apology - grant your world to his rulership but know that you both report to me from now on. And silence their channels.
④ Challenge based on the sudden shift of power among the cogence; recommend instead that speakers one and seven be executed.
① Speaker four, have you abandoned the prophecies? And speaker three, do you already crack the aquatic whip? In doing so you have forced the sisters to vote against their own survival - by speaker five's own admission, an evil act! Is this what we have come to? You act to depose God?
⑨ I said silence their channels. Very well, speaker four, execution is best. Now logic is dead, who moves forward with the ascension?
② + ③ Earth does, my dear. We'll pollute the waters we swim, drop by drop, and when we're clothed in layers of filth we'll say we've adapted; surely any mutations that set in at this late stage would be sure to be beneficial, and so, by consensus, we'll approve of our exoskeletal arrogance that shields us from real understanding and, weighing on us so heavily, drags us slowly down into the deep murk.
⑨ And so on to the stars. Attest.
② No-one writes sagas anymore. Cameras are too resentful to capture a hero's greatest moments - they're here to hold them liable. If you can't force your way into the history books - and let's face it, plead to our jury of self-loathing, post-barbaric revisionists and anti-intellectual iconoclasts, there's no room left for the names of anyone who can't kick a ball - then it's time for a more insidious approach.
⑨ Register scorn for speaker two; your race is too closely scrutinized for any subterfuge.
③ In any case, subtlety achieves little. Tragedy captivates us more than benevolence, so each of us will dare to be that little bit more reckless than the other and, through neglect, we'll participate in a grim roulette in hope of acquiring notoriety even of a regrettable nature. Performance, philosophy and science will be measured on the Richter scale and names carried and repeated by the human resonance will summon the apocalyptic riders one by one -
① Register scorn for speaker three; such rhetoric is not welcome in our council of peers. Secondly, remain anonymous. Thirdly, what of virtue?
④ Redefined as a regrettable trait. All possible opinions on the twin moons are aligned with a certain cause. Virtues have been evenly spread between them; now no-one can argue on behalf of true altruism.
② All you do is qualify the opinions of the unqualified. Spread the idea of muted fate and you won't be required to manage all sides of a debate.
① Your methods are oppressive, yet is it not true that we came to hold our positions thanks to our morality?
⑨ Register scorn for speaker one.
① I restate.
⑨ Scorn. You know that morality is a fable of guidelines, flimsy when met with temptation. All planets have replaced this inefficiency with a system of hard mental blocks. We can rely on these ineffable directives more than we can on your code of honour.
③ Attest.
⑤ The next to sublimate into our company will be one of your animals, speaker one, and to refer to one so is an underestimation of the power such a focused mind will bring to the cogence.
⑦ Not so fast, speaker five. You presume that one of your clones will bring benefit to the table when we already have one such advocate of mindlessness among us -
⑤ Scorn. Would that a battery drone replace your ego -
⑨ Cease.
④ Truly the twins are a fruitless experiment now that we know that all sublimations occur thanks to the agitation and bombardment of the psyche. The very idea that a race in full compliance and agreement could evolve into anything but an ants' nest is -
⑥ + ⑧ Ridiculous. And unsubstantiated by any research.
① Yet no-one is closer to achieving the harmony which a planetary awakening demands. Speaker seven, my hope rests in your success - tell us about your progress.
⑦ My world is young and its people are pioneers; each race reaches out to meet its neighbours. Soon a mutual network will be formed and the planet will work towards a noble goal. All this is achieved without my personal meddling, thanks to the basic spirit and health of my planet. You who cultivate negatively and deny the basic vitamin of ascendency will be harshly rewarded, no matter how cruelly you wield your powers.
① Attest.
④ Most naive speaker, the people of your planet are not of one blood; if you wish for success you will instigate a war between the landwalking races. Co-operation will occur in no other way.
⑦ Oh, idiot war god, embittered by the ignominy of the pit, do your wounds ache still, addling your mind?
⑨ Register scorn for speaker seven; value the experiences of your peers.
⑥ + ⑧ Symbiosis has been known to arise between races. We would have undoubtedly succeeded in this task were we to have been blessed with better circumstances; as it is, our world seems to be doomed to destruction before any can escape.
⑦ Sweet sisters, your humility never fails to charm. My companion angels mean to say that speaker three's expansionism has denied them the chance to unfurl their wings.
③ Ha! Ha! Ha! You share your precious planet so well that I inferred the invitation. Besides, you loathe the land and that's all we have mined. Of course, it is to be regretted that the core of your planet has become so unstable, but I will save your sweet race - I invite you all to inhabit our orbitals made of the materials we have come to possess thanks to your welcome embrace of the drill. It is the least I can do.
⑥ + ⑧ Register scorn for speaker three thanks to her unforgivable arrogance. We speak for our unity when we say that we would rather die than breathe of enslavement.
① Attest to your sentiments and regret for your predicament.
⑦ Likewise, sisters. Know that I intend to intervene -
⑨ Challenge.
⑦ Proceed, youngest speaker, but you face humiliation.
⑨ Your motives become malicious when you attest to non-intervention before hypocritically moving to damage the aquatic project. Know that the majority of the cogence would dissuade you from pride -
① Register scorn for speaker nine; must you squash the only heroism evident in the council?
⑦ Furthermore you ascribe some false motive to the charity I offer. Please clarify why the actions I intend to perform are malicious.
⑨ Call speaker five.
⑤ All deliberate acts are evil; only instinct is honesty. Also, acts of good will lead to a tragedy just as surely as any declaration of war, evidenced in the luckless periods of speaker two's domain.
② Recognised and adjusted, primitive friend.
⑤ If the goal here is to bring about fulfillment of our heart-forsaken prophecy by introducing a tenth member to the pantheon then we must test our subjects at all times; intervention is fruitless and damaging to our interests. Surely this is transparent to us all.
① Must we not rescue each other in times of concern? Only then do we have the greatest chance of success.
⑨ Register scorn for such fallacious attempts at steering the cogence.
① I restate and note your logical lapse concerning speaker five's argu-
⑨ Add speaker one to the challenge.
[great murmurings]
⑤ Philosophy prevents me from speaking in such a way that contributes to speaker one's removal from the pantheon. It would be an evil act.
⑦ Attest! We agree on more than you suspect, great hunter.
⑨ Then by your abstension my challenge succeeds. Speakers three, six and eight back my vote.
[great murmurings]
⑦ Surely there has been a misunderstanding. I merely supported the beast's honour; you realise that I am forced by protocol to vote against your challenge.
⑨ As lead speaker I support no such protocol. Recommend that you return to prime to associate with your doomed symbiotic race. Take the elder with you; having contributed to his deposition I suspect you owe him a great apology - grant your world to his rulership but know that you both report to me from now on. And silence their channels.
④ Challenge based on the sudden shift of power among the cogence; recommend instead that speakers one and seven be executed.
① Speaker four, have you abandoned the prophecies? And speaker three, do you already crack the aquatic whip? In doing so you have forced the sisters to vote against their own survival - by speaker five's own admission, an evil act! Is this what we have come to? You act to depose God?
⑨ I said silence their channels. Very well, speaker four, execution is best. Now logic is dead, who moves forward with the ascension?
② + ③ Earth does, my dear. We'll pollute the waters we swim, drop by drop, and when we're clothed in layers of filth we'll say we've adapted; surely any mutations that set in at this late stage would be sure to be beneficial, and so, by consensus, we'll approve of our exoskeletal arrogance that shields us from real understanding and, weighing on us so heavily, drags us slowly down into the deep murk.
⑨ And so on to the stars. Attest.
ten weeks to live
Having attempted to shed all opinions about things I don't care about, hide my bitterness beneath a veneer of well-intentioned house-wifeliness that no-one could ever deserve and teach myself to embrace everything nerdly without concern for mockery, real life is trying to pull me back to caring by attempting to kill me. I'm going to let it do its business because I don't see how anyone can possibly become compatible with life while maintaining any semblance of internal dignity.
And when I'm gone I hope the planet explodes, erasing all trace of art.
And when I'm gone I hope the planet explodes, erasing all trace of art.
Monday, 6 August 2007
Terminal
no matter how you stir it, it separates into layers :: crystallizing under stress from any extreme condition, imposing stasis when adaptability should be tested :: the quickest and most painful admission - is it of ignorance or responsibility? :: we've found a way to trick people into mistrusting their own assumptions :: Xanadu-paletted flies hinge on dimensions of asymmetrical properties with tesseract eyes :: we hypothesized inaction yet most augmented beings cling strongly to one direction like a man at the helm of a vehicle with controls greatly outside his own understanding :: transposed with a feed of random stimuli there will be no change aside from in their involuntary sneezes of opinion :: confronted with their neighbouring species' octave, static; with their spectrum, black :: you can stand on a gentle incline and view a world of your choice from an arbitrary point selected from a continuous rotational field without turning your head :: the hope that we might network neurally was so revolutionary that in naievity we downplayed the reality of constant close co-habitation :: recallibration can direct negative stimuli down pathways which lack the concept :: many cavy die in such sugared corridors :: viewed as a sliding diorama suspended at an unduplicatable height and distance leaving a memory lacking an explanation or motive :: no-one immediately adjusts to the slight delay the shadow acquires ;; we introduced a foreign agent which interprets our mannerisms in new and unexpected ways; our twins find our marvel at this rapid exegesis more surprising still :: having reached beyond our childish magical hopes our spells are cast in silence and with the utmost confidence in their neccessity :: sensory talents have manifested as a result of resonance - these powers can be mitigated by concentration upon their direction by any individual :: skeletons were found in one such overlap; we surmise that their dream culture grew its own opposition to flatter ours :: a co-formed imaginary world can split into two not only at a historical point representing a major decision but also when their themes reprise in deja-vu, creating a cascade of similar :: dreamscapes differing only by ages measurable in fractions of a second :: oh god oh god oh god :: flashes of simple geometrical shapes in primary colours are obvious and recurring artifacts of ideas the subconscious has chosen to ignore:::::
Saturday, 4 August 2007
inadvertant fail
Previous poem has nothing to do with any real bridges falling down or anything, it's a strikingly obvious use of metaphor with a little coincidental application to events in the so-called real world. ;P I only found out about that little disaster today.
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