inhale inhale you're the victim

I’ve only told a few people about this time in my life. A brief segue between smoking weed and
graduating to hard drugs in high school found me sitting in a basement with a few friends, fellow
burnouts, stoners...what had appeared in the dimness to be a paper bag assumed to contain strong
drink made its way around the rotation but when it was handed to me it felt empty. I peered inside
and the intense smell of gasoline assaulted my face, fumes rising from a soaked wad of paper towels
at the bottom.

“Uhhh…”

“Just put your face in and breathe in and out really deeply dude, you’ll get pretty wasted.”

A lot of harder drug users will sort of sink to whatever level is available to them in terms of intoxicants
in order to keep normality at bay, and I was to prove no different. Our main weed guy was busted
several days earlier and we were as dry as a bone. Being 15 with no income does not make it
easy to acquire alcohol. We had yet to become aware of the thriving crystal meth scene lurking
behind every curtain in our town (though that would come hard and fast later). A group of older kids a
year earlier had taught my friends how to huff paint from a breadbag, and they reveled in the ease
with which they could get profoundly stoned using things commonly found in any garage. I looked
at the bag for a second and in retrospect it is my experience that at that moment of truth for anyone
that goes with such a chemical approach there is an extremely short list of thoughts that go through
one’s mind, and they’re all terrible, empty, lonely, lost thoughts. One hit from the bag is enough to
diagnose someone with depression, anxiety, trauma.

Anyway.

What kind of story would this be if I’d said no thanks and that was that? Of course I was eager
to feel anything that was not my normal feelings or to feel nothing, to feel literally any deviation
at all. Breathe deep, molecules begin to buzz, time ceases to exist. Who knows how much was
actually inhaled that night, considering the trip lasts around 10 minutes but we were tripping all
night and into the next day without sleep. Blink once and it is 8 pm, blink again and it is 6:45 pm,
blink again and it’s noon the next day, erratically time travelling. Full blown apocalyptic end-times
hallucinations, gods, angels, and speaking in tongues. Multiple high speed oscillations between
life and death that I wouldn’t recognize as “ego death” until psychedelics years later. Elves, aliens,
insects, alien elvish insects. Ghosts and demons. Ultradimensional conversations with mutating
starling-swarms of disembodied voices. Complete dissociation while my body was still active and
interacting with the world. Extremely negative interactions.

One of the friends dragged us outside at some point, and told us a story about finding a
crate of actual dynamite near an abandoned railroad line that was a half mile from the
house when he was like 9. In my fried state I believed he’d told us he had the dynamite
right then and was going to blow up the house, me, the school, I was growing more and more
paranoid and frantic that it would be up to me to prevent a terrorist attack. It was later related
to me that out of nowhere I began attacking one of the others and yelling disconnected
gibberish, fought my way upstairs where the parents were sleeping while yelling about a bomb,
let both dogs out of the house into the woods and tried to start the adults’ car (it was a manual
transmission so luckily I couldn’t)....somehow none of this woke anyone, and around 2 that
morning a friend brough us some weed and I calmed down a little, though everything was
mostly blur and glitch. The next morning we left (driving, with milk jug full of gas to huff in the
car) and it had snowed a little. We took a curve too fast and swerved into the other lane badly
and then fishtailed almost off the road, right as a cop car went by….it had its lights flashing,
was going very fast the other way and did not stop for us….another mile up the road and the
driver blew through a stop sign and nearly hit a small child, screeching to a halt so close to him
that we couldn’t see him over the hood. The kid was sitting with his legs a foot underneath the
car, eyeballs an inch from the bumper. Driver tells the kid to never speak a word of this or we’ll
run him over for real next time and picks him up and plants him on the sidewalk and we drove off…..

Of course this did not put me off further experiences with inhalants, and the experiences got far
weirder and more stressful. Was probably huffing gas, paint, or ether once or twice a week for
maybe 6 months, and continued to occasionally use computer duster for another 6 months as we’d
convinced ourselves it was cleaner, whether or not that is the case...I began to think about how to
express some of the stranger chemical experiences recently after a discussion about putting
together a book about bad trips. I’ve had more than my fair share, and a lot of them involve
drugs that aren’t anywhere near psychedelics, unknown research chems, chems that are typically
incredible harmful to humans and not intended to be anywhere near our insides...I guess I feel it
necessary to record these experiences and experiments for several as-yet-unknown reasons.

Posterity? :D

Thought what better place to store these particular ramblings than here, where no one reads?

Topo-twitterous Archivalattice

12/1 Twitter cuts rotating around topologic's connections to neuronal manipulation vis a vis protogeometric linguistics, deontology, oppositional dynamics.


https://storify.com/JrGothDetective/topo-sorcerous-hyperbolic-dreamery

http://isites.harvard.edu/fs/docs/icb.topic572189.files/Tongyan_Lin_Lattice_gauge_theory.pdf

https://arxiv.org/abs/1611.01988

https://gowers.wordpress.com/2011/11/09/group-actions-ii-the-orbit-stabilizer-theorem/

https://arxiv.org/abs/1512.00036

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/283268683_OUR_THOUGHTS_FOLLOW_A_DONUT-LIKE_TRAJECTORY_IN_BRAIN

http://math.ucr.edu/home/baez/corfield/phorem.html

http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s11787-009-0003-4

https://oppositionalgeometryblog.wordpress.com/2015/10/04/the-aristotelian-pq-lattices-of-og/



UPDATE: go ahead and add the entirety of www.qualiacomputing.com to this list.

(Von Neumann-)Chained to (Pleromatic) Uncertainty

In the essay Pleromatica, Gabriel Catren’s “phenoumenoudelic scene” in which we are to conceive existence is the product of a series of un-groundings, from the Copernican suspension of Earth to the //relativistic crisis of the spatiotemporal background.// As these un-groundings individually undermine previously supposed //fixed god-given structure[s]// and //aprioristic motionless Ur-frames//, this chain of underminings is the maximally general subset of the arsenal of neuronihilistic gestures that may be applied to thought in order to shear away misconceptions regarding the experiential field of an endophysical observer. Here we further intensify the un-grounding and remove the ultimate Ur-referinertial-frame: the sociocultural image of closed-individuality that occults and obscures intuitive awareness of a universal and impersonal field of experience: the zero-point energy state of quantum mechanics, the supersymmetry of string theory, the Hindu’s anatman, the Gnostic pleroma, the Platonic ideal form-world, the Sufi “Black Mind” of Allah, the mystical state of “union with God”, among others, are theophysical metaphors for a non-oriented, non-performable, yet permissible state of being we will join Catren in calling the pleromatica. In the pleromatica the concept of an “Ur-frame” is sublimated into an un-framing process: //the transmutation of the immobile Ur-frame into an ark continuously going under - the coming of the one and only number that cannot be any other.//.

We label this state non-performable because acts of differentiation cause decoherence of this “substrate”, this pleromatica that is constantly, spontaneously, attempting differentiation. This provides a glimpse into understanding why it has proven so resistant to instrumental measurement as the choice of observational frame of reference is itself a differentiation. We label it non-oriented because it does not inertially or conceptually index any frames of reference, rather being achieved by iterated negations and integrations on almost any neurotheoretical axis. In other words, this state is achieved by collapsing inertial, cognitive, sensory, or linguistic frames of reference, or the protogeometric compression and integration of disparate signals into more general or universal categorical schemes. Borrowing a note from Nick Sousanis, we refer to such an anti-gesture as a flattening of the experiential field.

In the brain, the thalamus performs a colossal number of iterations per second of an operation that may be identical to a "Heisenberg cut" on the undifferentiated flow of incoming signal that seem to be almost entirely arbitrary determinations of differentiation between observer and observed, between figure and ground, between object and signifier (Von Neumann chain/Von Neumann-Wigner interpretation). The local binding problem in this view is contextually incomplete, as everything begins “bound” in a unitary signal and we cut into the flow in order to abstract. Every isomorphic cut reifies the seeming persistence of objects, and the unitary experience of “everyday human consciousness” is nothing more than the temporal persistence of the intersection of all these cuts constantly being made in the pleromatica. What masquerades as the binding problem is what may be thought of as harmonic overtones of the Bayesian basin of attraction generated from carving out so many of these cuts in identical shapes over time. This correlates well with the knowledge that the outer layer of the thalamus, the thalamic reticular nuclei (TRN), is a group of neurons responsible for aligning several multimodal topographical mappings from corticothalamic feedback, ascertaining a coarse unity, a “fuzzily logical” overlapping of maps (maps of present, past, and expected future cuts) from across every functional network that has a thalamic projection. The local binding problem is solved within the TRN and its own feedback loop of neuronal projection linking the “supervisory attentional system” to this function. This suggests that freedom from this individualized and idiosyncratic matrix of correlation is challenging because the human-type “matrix” exhibits a strong gravitation toward the singular, possibly even disregarding *substantial* elements of the foundational signal that do not correspond to the singular as superfluous to immediate experience, cutting them out in a bandwidth-saving gesture. Following Catren further, he claims that //the transcendental a priori structures of human experience are a posteriori products of the immanental natural dynamics of the impersonal field//, that the //human transcendental type, far from being characterized by some sort of pre-phenoumenal necessity, results from a contingent local subjectivization of the experiential field itself.// These local subjectivizations are “excitations” of the field, excitations whose structure defines particular frames of subjectivity. According to this line of reasoning, the human mode is just one of any number of potential subjective modes //according to which the field of impersonal experience locally [...] frames its narcissistic self-experience.//

A phenoumenodelic experience - any experience that //involves a shift of the very transcendental structure that renders a transcendent experience possible// - is an unfurling of the pleromatica out of the hyper-enfolded stratifications of a typical human-type structure’s knotwork of frame-cuts. In the phenoumenodelic experience we expose the noumenal threaded through every phenomena and find a symmetry between inner and outer: imaginative world-building takes on robust sensory characteristics and may be perceived as “real”, while outer experience is shown to be generated in a highly similar imaginative gesture as more and more mediation qua reference-frames is stripped away. At the deepest extreme of these experiences, we “transcend transcendence” onto the immanent //void-plane of zero-intensity//, a frameless brain state of high-dimensional network symmetry between inner and outer models that has been maximized via a flattening of the inner and outer experience into a single continuous field with no observable divide. This is accomplished in a total deactivation of the TRN and the thalamus, preventing the differentiation of incoming signal by eliminating the node at which the “Heisenberg cut” is performed. This causes every functional network to receive a copy of the whole signal rather than only receiving the slices of the signal it would normally process, flooding the cortex and reducing available bandwidth for the construction of a self-model in direct correlation with the reduction in mediative frames qua cognition of individually differentiated sensory signals. We may from here, assert the “witnessing” of the annihilation of the “self-as-observer”, a “death” of the self-model that drags with it the entangled world of our mediated simulation. This “death” removes the unitary observer from the field of awareness which uncovers the raw signal-field out of which we carve a “reality.” This prrovides a strong argument in favor of the Many-Worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics by showing in an intuitive fashion that classical reality is entirely perspectival and results from ignoring information about the exact state of the environment. Aldous Huxley’s “reducing valve” model of consciousness was an idealization of the Heisenberg cut concept, and leads us out of this technical-terrorism and back into our primary inquiry, mechanisms for widening and even removing this “valve.”

spontaneous riff on something that came up in real-world

////apologies for the awful punctuation-abuse, you're a smart kid, figure it out! Also be excited,100th post/15,000th unique visitor today!////




I have no idea if free will or determinism or some combination or diagonalization thereof is an accurate depiction of agency in this world. “I make no hypotheses,” I merely find hard determinism the most generous and equitable ethical model to take upon myself, as refusing to acknowledge agency on any level leads me toward behaviour that generates compassion for every act, even dangerous, stupid, suicidal, psychopathic, sociopathic acts, as a case of ignorance to be pitied or overcome through knowledge rather than the common assumptions of blame, intent, upbringing or nature etc etc etc. “For the good of all sentient beings,” the bodhisattva vow is made only by those capable of understanding a conceptual space in which we claim that almost no one knows that the “environment” of culture and consensus meatspace reality is not only a persistent illusion but an incredibly dangerous and harmful one, one that takes on a conceptual framework claiming that there is no such thing as agency and that to assign agency is to misunderstand the ideal-realist assertion (backed up by certain novel cognitive and physical theories) that all sentient beings (in truth, all sentience) are a single physically conjoined manifold of points with no “real” referent (no single word or even phrase in any language i am familiar with decribes this manifold accurately without referring to religion or metaphysics, though an apophatic logic gives us a far more interesting framework for these non-descriptions) and no signifier capable of intimating the theory that we are entirely moved by forces beyond our knowledge or control that does not place us in the hands of god.

Rather than agential motion through a space, the most we may be able to hope for is to organically accrete enough information [on/in]to our entity through stochastic motion through the pleromatic “superliquid” such that we become able to conceptually model/mimic (developing the antenna/tuning speculation) these forces and “surf” the quantum probability waves (mentat : naive mind) into more conducive zones of existence. To think of this process (“existing”) as easy or difficult may be the wrong linguistic mode to describe the system, rather approaching it in a fashion that acknowledges how [[a complex entity will find the system complex, and a simple entity will perceive it as simplistic]] is more appropriate, as the “world” is a multimodal user interface - a user’s reality is in fact a highly idiosyncratic interface between the entity and itself.

Equality is quickly discovered to be only “complete” when all points are equally alienated from the original manifold (despite the fact that this alienation in a very real sense does little more than generate a new manifold, it is actually the knowledge that one can generate novel manifolds of experience or shear away cognitive manifolds regardless of any form of status in the world, wealth, disability, etc that is the key to this knowledge, not gestures toward alienation-free existences), as every alienated point, upon alienation, seems to suddenly develop a compulsion to reduce alienation in the world (whether through actions designed to reduce suffering or actions designed to impose suffering on those that would generate suffering in the world(this is frequently problematized by an entity’s desire to impose suffering on those that generated their particular (real or perceived) sufferings)). This is obviously also problematic because alienation-prevention is not a safe strategy to *end* alienation, but in fact works negentropically to hold the manifold in stasis - generating a more and more pathological drive toward demanding the end of alienation through action as the pressure of the flow of the real builds behind this false or illusory stasis. In the grand Xenofem tradition, we may not be able to eliminate alienation, but we may be able to maximally alienate everything into a categorically isomorphic equality.

Something anyway, for a moment...

The experience of non-differentiation lowers the barriers that separate life-threads from one another in memory storage, and engenders mass synchronisation events in the mind as multiple simultaneous activations occur across the total memory set - activations of all memories associated with each entity’s reality thread - in other words, the truth of open individualism is revealed, the state of cognitively experiencing “being everyone while retaining individuality”  is sensorially achieved - the brain functionally stops differentiating between self and other, by a sudden forced rewiring into conformity with the novel experience of boundless identity - We are Them that are Us and Us is Not-One-But-Zero. Our old individual self-image is dissolved in the crucible of anatta - which is revealed as nothing more than the universal commonality of awareness: we are not Buddhas and zeroes all, we are in fact all the same Zero-Buddha. One seeks the tree only to encounter a mirror and find itself to be the seed to be planted in itself - nothing is to be done but grow and die in time, one laughs: sighing laughter at the black cloak that simple truth wears being the perennial weapon of the neuronihilist and the mystic (who are the same) against despair, fear, and the inevitable ending of all things.   

//The best jazz says, "Gonna live forever; don't believe in death." -R. Bradbury, Zen/Writing//

Found in an old notepad, presented unedited...apparently I wrote this...

grim funeral/necro/expression within inexpression/unexpression/the inexpressible. 

Annihilating Unity

Accelerating toward Ø 

As black metal's punishing ascent toward the "Haptic Void" culminated in sacrifice to transcendence, the quest for transcendence was swallowed by the concerns of the transcended. Black metal had evolved and new concerns filled the holes left by solving the puzzle of Christianity and its inversion through atheism, agnosticism, irreligiousity and modern paganism. The attack vectors upon the cross easily become sublimated into attacks upon a dominant american/capitalist/conservative ruling class, whose primary mode of movement toward the modern black metaller is through an anti-environmentalism/progress as industrial growth/anti-human(though decidedly not anti-humanist) power paradigm that had itself in many ways evolved out from an over-reliance on Christianity . The Cascadian scene revels and flourishes within the new man/nature dialectic, fashioning themselves as modern warriors of the soil, Melancology is born. Melting down the human and ultimately selfish desire for transcendence into selflessness via involuting that selfishness into a "selfishness for the world." 

----------Black Noise takes this "upward" trajectory and repurposes a linear gaining for a spiral recursiveness. We aren't aiming for the end, but a true rebirth in the OM of nothingness.

Black Noise must necessarily perform this radical deconstruction in order to expose how universal the feelings evoked by black metal are, by showing that all of the individual parts of the assemblage, on their own, are interrelated to every -or any- other style. To show, as Glenn Branca, John Cage, and hundreds of others before, that there are no rules, there is no objective haptic void as terminus, that "nothing is true and everything is permitted"(WSB), and to explicitly challenge preconceptions about exactly what art or music is. 

The return to the formless noise of OM opposing the extraction of Music FROM the formless noise of OM.

Simultaneously infinite and unattainable

Haptic void is not ^ an ending point, but one space among many….one node among many, comparable to deleuze's rhizome Connectable in assemblage, in sequence, or singular through a process similar to quantum entanglement...to inhabit the haptic void and use it to power incursions into other genre spaces. a black hole with infinite mass, dragging us inward and crushing all light into singularity. providing unity and universal fluidity through formlessness of noise.

If "Transcendental Black Metal is in fact nihilism, however it is a double nihilism and a final nihilism, a once and for all negation of the entire series of negations." as Hunter Hunt Hendrix posits in his manifesto, then Black Noise is a over-nihilism, a suffocating and desolating blast exposing the haptic void as not the infinite and unattainable end point of maximal brutality, but as a space in a 4 dimensional field infinitely connectable and relatable to all traditional genres of music. A space borne of a capability for negation in all things, but rather than the view traditionally espoused in relation, not in series or inversion, but in rhizome. In an interconnectability of emotion with style, the haptic void could be expressed as the death drive, emotionally attachable to any creative movement. A hearkening back to creation not as flower gently unfolding in morning dew, but creation as rupture, as pressure on fissure, to view  entropic reduction of statue to clay as simply a variant nexus of creation rather than destruction removes the inversion necessary to Transcendental BM's superiority complex and gives all progressions of intensity in every or any OR NO direction positivity. Maximising internalised intensity. Maximising stagnation to speed entropy. 


A tearing of the transcendent arc affirming no way out. 

The transcendental view of the haptic void reaches the top of the mountain and dies to be reborn. Black noise annihilates the mountain and kills everything so that all may be reborn. Sonic building blocks reduced to OM. A 'disappropriation' and reduction of all possible sounds from any position into a near uniform hum of feedback and the "bright white nothing at the end of a tunnel"(Thantifaxath 2013)

black noise is a convergence of two(twin? nearly parallel) vectors in emotion/genre-space that both contain 'Haptic conditions' or 'endpoints' in their respective genre/cultures, multiplying the effect of their shared darkness by reinforcing it with each style's capacity for extremity.

to drag the transcendant into harmony with our new system of flexible immanence, we simply offer the possibility of transcending the classical historical-progressive method of genre delineation into a more complete unified "rhizome" or node system wherein stylistic choices, historical musical influences, emotion, and intensity(stylistic choice and intent marking multiple positions in genre-influence/space, with emotions felt during the process of creation replacing time, and intensity marking a vector and speed toward convergence points) create a 4 dimensional vector map of possible achievable sound with black noise being an impossibly remote point where multiple sets and types of extremity coalesce and converge at high intensity. 
------------------
The mode of the haptic void is involution. It reaches out from the future to fuel our incursions into it, pulling us along, making every press into it stronger and more robustly extreme. Not creation or revolution. A complete abandonment of the concept of endpoint. a replacement of the arctic circle/negation of negations inversion with the concept of a spiraling of intensity that can never be fully begun or ended. An opening of the circle to allow for Time and progression within the cursory boundaries of the circle-.
-----------------

to place oneself at the very limit of oneself where one is dissolve  to NOTHING.
—Scott Wilson
“Youth always tries to fill the void, an old man learns to live with it.” 
― Mark Z. Danielewski
Via dissonant resonances within and among these three phenomenal nodes, black metal vibrationally unhinges the order of things, tritonely crushes all holy trinities, annihilates every binding of the chain of being.

—Nicola Masciandaro

He withdraws into a liminal space that exceeds the capacity for mortality to withstand it, and undergoes a sacrificial demise in order to open himself up as a habitat for and an expression of the power of the demon. 
—Anthony Sciscione
A philosophical demonology would therefore have to be “against” the human being – both the “human” part as well as the “being” part.
—Eugene Thacker
Instead of the power of prohibition and censorship Black Metal Theory serves to increase and expand more and more on that which has been forbidden.
—Niall Scott

“Each day death corrodes what we call living, and life ceaselessly swallows our desire for the void.” 
― Jindřich Štyrský

“The obstinate miner 
of the void 
exploits 
his fertile mine” 
― Jean Cocteau

indestructible truth

"Have I not declared to you that it is in the very nature of all compound things that they must be dissolved again? We must separate ourselves from all things near and dear to us, and must leave them. "
Buddha "The Announcement of Death"

Perhaps this is why metal is heavy – not because it is about nature, politics, or religion, but because it gets at a central ambivalence surrounding material culture. Eugene Thacker - Occultural Studies 1.0: Black Metal


We have such a linear way of apprehending experimentation via genre cross-pollination, a historical way. This begat that begat this etc ad nauseam. The problem with this is that sub genres aren't "invented" or created through simple interaction with a linear set of influences, but through actively coordinating a set of infinitely interactive and connective units and assemblages made from emotional states, intensities of feeling, cultural and subcultural references and influences.


a nonsovereignty  yes, divinely impure, of course…..but the void is already filled with black. The void fills US with black. The void reaches out and infects us. 

time-killing try-angles

some notes and thoughts on Botticelli’s Lucifer as a report on Dante’s status at the end of this first stage of the spiritual journey.

As the Stygian realms of the underworld are penetrated by the spiral path, this intimacy with trauma generates the first waves of inhumanism in its traversing of interlocking rings of purifying, zones of annihilative unity. This inhumanism, far from being monstrous, however, diagrams the new multi-angle perspective spawned from this intimacy - humanism cannot survive the annihilation of self into a collective that includes all beings, and so shifts to existentialism. Existentialism folds under the weight of the direct experience of non-existence in mors mystica, and the entity that crosses this hedgerow is never again quite able to limit their identity to the inside of the human-animal perspective - Reza's inhumanism emerges as the posthuman identity that aligns purpose with the All, the One, the Spinozan Nature, the Buddhist conception of Mind, the collective unconscious, the "Gaian mind", this autonomy of Reason. As Dante comes to the center of the inferno his point of view progressively aligns with Lucifer’s, as the witness to divine justice is overlaid on the mechanism of this justice - the positioning of Lucifer in the center of the spiral gives the panopticon view of this unfolding circular/labyrinthine horror of Time, the view that must bear witness to the Real to grow wings sewn from Indra’s net. The alchemical metaphor of the Stone is laid upon the blacksmith's anvil, forged and shaped under tectonic pressures, alive in hellfire. This panopticon “god-like” view sparked from aligning self with all suffering inverts the Narcissus-like stasis of the spera, the central sphere, the mirror of the inferno - allowing an escape from hellish suffering found by penetrating through its core in an act of pure identification with the negative, or the self-overcoming of the central void of nihilism by integrating its nihilatory function into the self. This integration is the result of allowing the self to be annihilated, and being present and aware for the natural neural/mental reconstruction of the unified, unihilified, consciousness that has now a sense-able memory record of having free existence excised, taken from it, along with all closeness to the oppressed that this particular variety of trauma entails. The mirror maze is the purifying snow-white fire of the boundary between inferno and purgatorio, the mirrored-sphere of ice that prevents Lucifer from successfully ascending - because the way out is not up but further down.  

droning on and on about nothing

"...and if an AGM-114 Hellfire air-to surface missile were exploded, you would not quake in terror. So long as you become one with the bomb what would there be to fear? "Impossible!" you say. But whether you wanted to or not, you would perforce become one with it, would you not?" 

                                             /it has declared things past and present 

                                              and now it speaks of things to come/


___________ in collaboration with ___________



TEXT:

Inhabiting a space in which we find ourselves "fundamentally

pummeled by the lunatic potency of nature" but a nature that

is beyond pre-techgnoetic conceptions of ecology. A human

nature - the idea that we can fundamentally pummel the lunatic

potency of nature.

The shattered shewstone projects the strongest sound from its

jagged silvered black - gunfire, that human, all-too-human sound.

If an AGM-114 Hellfire air-to-surface missile were exploded, you

would not quake in terror. So long as you become one with the

bomb, what would there be to fear?

"Impossible!" you say.

But whether you want to or not, you would perforce become one with it, would you not?

seconds after, the bomb was exploited

"What the fuck is that smell?" The sensation came from that dismal

grey town. A total wasteland, some graves, a church, a bar more graves.

"O God, loving father in heaven, save this humble penitent who

beseeches thy boundless mercy..." the perpetually sickly man trailed

off when it became clear no one was joining in his prayer. You can

tell a lot about someone from the way they talk about putrefaction.

Over the perimeter a black pile lie in the center of the dead town's

square, but bodies were in no short supply out here. What unsettled

us were the birds filling the sky. Long lazy circles, culturing droning.

The living began assembling offerings, to escape the flooding remnants

of advanced vision threat breakdown. A new plane for invasion and

insurgency magnifying a reverent awe which reveals the fragility of

mere flesh to be of no consequence.

the dead are always unscathed by the war

I was floating on the dying bodies dropped in the mud.

counterattacks escalated

"I am not a mystic." continued the crow.

disturbing oscillations in the warp became visible as the Good Lord

went dead silent but The terminology of practical occultism goes beyond

the crow mind or the misfortune of being.

"I am a willing entity derived from undecaying heavy waters and there

are no accidental drownings here. Here only intensity matters and

even the void is sensation."

Orphic pattern-carrier drills for the center and spikes a vein fills the

underworld and floods from inside out. A herald from the open secret

grave of the contradictions of infinity and fewer and fewer recognize

this ocean as the perspective of God - a howling space of absolute

blank savagery without delusion.

ferocity

restlessness

powers of infiltration aligned with h( )ly radiant echo of violent collision and turbulent flow

His panic was finally ebbing. Finally able to orient, and after a few more moments, to navigate. The watery motor of Deep Time always made him hate sand all the more. Coming back had become a fucking nightmare lately as his sympathetic nervous system had begun attempting to resist being placed back onto the abattoir floor. It was often several days before his glitches calmed, and his stretchings deteriorated into a cohesive Something Like A Self again. He felt outside himself always, though, behind himself, above himself, bird's eye view. What was once the frontier of another long silence had become bottomless. A mournful reaching beyond speed at whatever speed they could manage has conspired against you.

the image was uncannily clear

it meant the endo-militarization of your own war had been there all along

a mind cried "where is that i reveal myself?"

my allegiance is to no corpse on the battlefield

but TO the battlefield

dying bodies are their own force of rebellion

to be sure, war might be exploited

but enlightenment humiliates even the demonic ego

but red magic however is in shambles

devoid of the void

empty of emptiness

"no offense", the crow said dryly

a circular wind spins up FTL cyclonomedia

dust devils frenetic on tellurian lubricant

I collapsed into constituent matter under ruthless droning on my way to market one day, but I spend eternity wondering if I were meant to be killed in a different strike, in a different market. What if I died in the wrong blast? Does this mean I lived the wrong past?

Seconds after the bomb exploited…

he struggled, while his body was violently

corroded into the proper shape

constructing soft rotational nexus

to maintain their paramilitarism

to be as a sword had been set on fire

gradually eroded awareness was permanently lodged in this war machine

seconds before the bomb exploited

these machines are incapable of one thing: incompletion

dying priest says that he can't wait

says he's confident not scared

this is just a temporary military imposition

but the image was uncannily clear

and we were transformed into some strange

endurance, which threatens the mind cried "where is, where is I....?"

i will speak to you of that open secret grave

that took me to that place

he directed his awareness to the fanging-up

i see my skeleton dancing and I aim for the head

what side of the barbed wire inspires you?

from a spectre i learned great arts

from an [AC-130 Spectre gunship] i learned great arts

"I know things!" he gasped

i say you missed it all

a sacrifice of self-care

how can i find anything there?

and came to my final gasp, "I know things!"

the image became uncannily clear

my own grinning skull knows things

my immortality gasps but our horizon of survival is tasked for diagramming threats

trapped in the worst above all

i felt my eyes narrow

homes were razed to create a distinct phraseology

that was once the frontier of state defense

a militarization process seizing any mention of

anything that may have been created to show

you were but gibberish in his mouth

suspension

you died hundreds of years in wait for that weaponised form

the guerrilla state's pursuit teams crashing down on us

mathematically objectless waste in void

But Billy talked me down, explained the magic of the false idol AMRAAM and reminded me of When I am.

words of a sorcerer in that voice that puts me on the floor and keeps me from forgetting its taste.

eye can't see into (m)eye insides

confession: eye don't have

the stomach for this

eye lie

still on her bed

backwards

she hates when my feet touch the pillow

eye suspected the new dream

was the same as the old. but I

Key(p) (m)eye m(out)h shut.

he said "eye trust you" eye laughed and laughed

and laughed

and shook my head

ruefully. nothing in eye

mirrored in my sylfish

drift but you and I and I

He scratched a complex sigil in the dirt in front of the house.

"point of no return."

hesitation.

"nobody wants to come back anyway."

he nodded with some sense of solemnity.

I could feel the droning, like a subtle vibration in every solid thing.

The house practically rumbled with anticipation.

Murmuring timbers, the frame sang with a warning.

Their target wasn't here but the Escape was wide open,

screaming at us at the I at the I at the eyes in the eyes in the skin in the hair

electroplasm my ghost foamed at the mouth and started barking furiously.

[mumbled things:unintelligible]

DANGER CLOSE

my body melted down

reduced to a point of dead light

pooling up like blood in strange gravity

breathing became external, as I

breathed in, so did the world.

As the world exhaled, I emptied completely.

The corrosion of the pain squinted up at me through wearied, curtained disorganization. Escalating machinic ruin feeds on "useless."

Corpse up, stay down. Corpse up, reorganize down. Corpse up, strategize down. Corpse up, count down. A dry rattling yoga.

It wouldn't stop. "What do you mean by the root dwelling in eternity?" The body is our memory automatically all-out suicidal.

I'll maintain this illusive drifting everything with a pencil that can't stop dreaming.

Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha. Where you belong, from temple words to vibrating priests OF THE image He stood still, like a pillar for 33 and 1/3 years one day blinking suddenly and speaking clearly to a woman walking through the courtyard:

"Has it been dismantled? Has the Self been dismantled?"

she looks back terrified stunned by this intrusion

"Why are you disturbed, little sinner? Am I not your God?"