From our perspective, our position in the space/time continuum: they are solid, formidable, unbreakable, and constant. When we zoom out our perspective and see them for what they are — an integral part of Earth’s life cycle — then we understand their character as they relate to their environment and not as they relate only to our short lifespans. They are young, restless, rapidly evolving, fickle, at times destruction but yet fostering life, and dangerous creatures.
This paradox, this perceived paradox, is what makes them beautiful. This is why I find mountains undeniable. Lost in a beautiful paradox is where love is found. They are the most symiotic and lasting relationships. I need my paradoxes and they me. Give me a paradox and I’ll give you love, loyalty, and an endless dance between two powerful forces. I’ll be your paradox. I’ll be your Muse and you mine.
Peanut Butter Lover. I am that and that is me. Of the few labels I can more than confidently attach to myself and proudly declare; this is one.
Cheese. I love cheese.
I love the two so much for a few years in my childhood I would regularly make peanut butter and cheddar cheese sandwiches. It’s still not a bad sandwich. Of course, some restaurants have mastered it.
USA — here I was born, mostly raised and culturally assimilated. Perhaps my father being from an epicenter of peanuts (Idaho) has some to do with my love of peanut butter. Home of CHEETOS Germany—here I live. Here is the homeland of my mother and now my home. Cheese lovers. Ignorant to the beauty and diversity of peanut butter. Home of FLIPS
Here is a declaration for the absorption of a damn damn good idea seen in Germany → Hey, America, where the hell are the Flips?! Hey Germany, let your people eat the Cheetos!
Americans. Love peanut butter. At times I have the PB-Blasphemous thought, “Maybe, jussst maybe we have gone over the Peanut Butter top”. Then I laugh maniacally and remind myself the more peanut butter one consumes the better their evolutionary advantage. It’s like consuming the raw power of legendary mythical folk, e.g. Chuck Norris. Point is…
Why, as the most peanut butter consuming area of the world, do we not have peanut type like Cheetos things in the USA? Or, do we and I’m just missing it? Flips are a Peanut Butter lovers culinary mouth orgasm. Even peanut butter recreational users seem to like them (e.g. Germans).
And WHY, does such a cheese loving people not have Cheetos?! Cheetos are the thing that I am requested most to bring back from the USA trip. They love them. People find ways to get some from the military commisary in Germany. It’s a Cheetos black market! In a few days I’m practically a Cheetos smuggler taking back multiple party and regular Cheetos bags on the plane.
So, let’s rebuild the alliance with Germany that the NSA so graciously eroded.
USA, “We want your flips!”
Germany, “We’ll take those Cheetos!”
And here begins a new golden economic age and unprecedented world peace as the whole world harmoniously participates in the glory and brilliance of a Cheetos-like-snack and a Flips-like-snack. Available for all the world to enjoy in good company while giggling and joking together in harmony until the inevitable quietly content most delicious munchie session ensues. Or we could eat Peanut Butter filled pretzels.
Hey Cheetos and Flips, you’re welcome for the free pitch so I’ll now take a job as your master taste-tester. I’m not kidding.
It simply
was a depressing time. He simply was a pathetic human being. The
self-realization was compact, direct and… simple. It was as if he
himself brought to his presence a wonderful and tightly wrapped package.
So in his own reality he created a scenario:
The
contents were singular. In the package was a Yak Bak. This antiquated
ancient artifact added a retrospective element to his experience. He
knew what it was. It was an emblem of innocence. It was one tightly
wound and deep reaching symbol but the referent was not easily defined.
This
creature, being graced with an infinite capability for inner-reality
scenario creation did not take long to arrange the scenario in which
this Yak Bak was created and for what it was destined.
[[[
A moment to explain the importance of ‘inner-reality scenario creation’
(termed as such for lack of better symbols). As a pathetic human being
that spends the majority of time drawn inward and in solitary presence
it is quite difficult to be convinced by outward sources and inward
reflection that the scenarios created in the mind are less of a reality
than that which is experienced in the physical realm in which we all
assume we participate. One self-aware that they are subject to such a
tendency must consciously convince and remind oneself that a scenario
(complete with actors from their physical reality, actions, idea
exchanges, dialogue, etc.) created in their mind was nothing more than
an scenario experienced in their inner reality. They must remind
themselves that the actors in their inner reality that match actors in
the physical reality in appearance and name are not necessarily
co-dependent. One cannot hold resentment for a peer in the physical
reality for the actions they performed in the inner reality. For some a
meditative and conscious practice is needed to harness and control this.
Some have no control. Some are not aware. Some do not care. Many do not
compartmentalize and all realities blur into one mesh. We will not
speak to the ethics, what should or shouldn’t be, nor of the
consequences… it is how it occurs. ]]]
Knowing the Yak
Bak’s origins he was hesitant to push the ‘play’ button being fearful
of what he himself had recorded for he himself to hear. He knew the
actors in all realities represented one referent that shared all the
same information. But lost in his own network he could not seem to find
the memory among his countless libraries. He could not find the memory, a
caveat, to prepare himself for a more than likely epiphany. Perhaps
this is more than likely as he programmed it. Planned it. Formed and
molded what was to be.
He feared epiphanies. He feared
the existence outside of time. He feared the moment that could not
exactly be defined as a moment. Better said, it was an idea without
form. He feared the form he must place following the epiphany. As with
any great ‘ah-hah!’ there came the come down in which confrontation of
the self and others were necessary. There came the pain of growing and
changing. The pain of adapting. The unraveling of what the idea meant
and was meant to be; how it played out in his realities. Fear, pain,
unknowns… “Better it be me,” he thought, “for I am truly addicted to
functioning outside of my first reality.” Addicted to fear, or rather,
the beautiful consequences of confronting a fear, he finally pushed
‘play’.
He heard a voice of a child. He knew it to be he.
….
“You are to enter a great War. There will be a tearing of realities and
the soldiers of the future will not firing weapons but typing. Ideas
will be your weapons and practice in alternative realities. Be
comfortable being adaptive and perform actions mentally, digitally and
physically. Last of all, stop being a pathetic human being” ….
He
had closed his eyes as he listened and was willingly, dutifully and
intentionally existing in the margins of realities. Time became an
elementary concept. He was again wandering in an epiphany. At once, from
his center, simultaneously gazing and studying every reality. With
every perspective he took in the details while keeping the forest for
the trees. Then the rush of epiphany awakened every component and he was
ready.
It had been too long since he was not the
pathetic human being. It had been too long that he allowed the actions
of others in a single physical reality rule and victimize his story.
Ready he was and ready he is to jump in as a cog in a machine, a
universe among universes ready to function as one complete being and fix
these ruptures and cancer in our realities.
gathered, clumped, and lumped → the lot of all that has
clogged me ← and purged it thenceforth.
— then below I could tread
where-from I observe the whole
(known Universe)
and clearly see the mycelia networks …
— now I can connect the structures
of me, by me, about me, with me, from me, to me, not me,
micro to macro
the referent remains the same
being that → buried beneath the many constructions we are apt to find each other intertwined only with deep matter. All from everywhere all in somewhere all … all.
I’m only 29 and this subject has long been on my mind… how I lay to rest. For my age and experience it seems a bit cryptic. It is. Regardless, when I pass:
Dear Family and Friends,
I don’t have many phobias, but being buried alive seems to be the only one I can identify. Waking up and being caged and then screaming and scratching and scratching and scratching… until you really die. Truly, it’s not really the being buried alive part but being buried in a box. It’s our contemporary burial process that just doesn’t feel right. Pumped full of chemicals, dressed in our Sunday best… it’s creepy. It’s damn creepy. Again, it just stems back to the “it just doesn’t seem right” thing for me, i.e. it’s not natural.
I’ve always just wanted to die with the boots on, as they say. It could be an accident and I go quick but if my life is to drag out and I am nearing death to the point where I am to die in a bed I say, “fuccckkkk that, I’m going on a never returning walkabout. If you want to remember me put a gravestone in the yard, peace.”
The gears in my head started to spin and, “Wow”, I thought, “this is actually possible”. I go on my walkabout lay to rest and quick decomposition takes place. I’m no poison to the earth but, rather, quick the refreshing intake.
Neil deGrasse Tyson put it best when he rebutted an odd inquiry (go to minute 1:12:01) asking what he would request at his time of execution: “ I would request that my body in death be buried not cremated, so that the energy content contained within it gets returned to the earth, so that flora and fauna can dine upon it, just as I have dined upon flora and fauna during my lifetime” ….
Now that feels natural. That feels right. That I can be at peace with considering how I will remain “ Requiescat in pace”. Thing is, I don’t want to be a dirty meal. I’d like to be gourmet. I enjoyed the loin of the deer my family hunts and the potatoes, tomatoes, etc. that we grow in our garden. I would like to be a delightful meal but with all these toxins currently in my system and then the embalming toxins that just isn’t possibly. Luckily, Jae Rhim Lee presents an ingenious solution for that.
So don’t stand in the way of my walkabout in my mushroom burial suit. I’m going into the mountains and I’m not coming out. Don’t delay my cosmic journey with chemical embalming and lacker covered coffins. My energies and content are going to be dispersed properly in this life cycle — the thought pleases me so.
It was exciting. It did much to draw attention to the fact that the NSA and affiliated programs are a form of censorship. When we know someone is watching and thereby are afraid to speak our political minds, this is censorship. It imposes on our Freedom of Speech, the 4th Amendment, and our right to not fear our government. The question remains, what direct actions and alternatives will this protest spark? I'm getting excited again for our future.
For those of you that missed it...
Link to a petition you can sign to demand from Congress the revealing of the full extent of NSA programs.
Dear NSA and affiliates,
I am no longer hiding from you. I am demanding you dismantle your unjustified surveillance. I am telling you to go away. I will no longer encrypt my activities because I fear using my right to free speech. I am no longer afraid of Big Brother, because Big Brother must and will go. Here I am... fuck you.
Best regards,
me.
---->
I have long functioned with the assistance of VPN services and also TOR in order to protect my privacy and not help institutions in our Surveillance State conglomerate my identity and participation in activist events, movement culture, radical politics all into one cute package. Basically, I encrypted my movements because I did not, with the knowledge that the NSA and affiliates DO spy, want that to stop me from practicing free speech. The knowledge that one is watching you does effect to what degree you are going to be honest with the current going-ons in our corrupt governments, corporations, police forces, military, etc etc. etc.
This week I have decided to have my encryption coming-out party. No longer am I going to fly underneath the radar and guise my Twitter handles, blogs, emails and other accounts. Not that I am even completely sure my VPN and Tor protected that in the first place. Basically, I'm saying, "Fuck you NSA, here I am, you want my identity then have it!".
Now let me explain something else in addition to that. I have promised myself that I will continue to unabashedly participate just as much as I previously had done with encryption protection. I understand the necessity for others to continue encrypting their activity ...this is just a personal decision for me. The greatest power of coercive governments and institutions is 'Fear', and that fear for me has been hiding and not connecting all the beliefs I have placed in cyber reality with the singular individual I am in physical reality. I just want to figuratively stand up on the internet and say to the Surveillance State, "It's only a matter of time before the world dismantles your corporately interested spy engines."
an slice of pie from an ongoing project (fiction). Please leave suggestions, etc. in comments. I would love some constructive criticism. ------->>>>>>>>>
Day ?: I met an
interesting character today.One who
seemed to have short-wired… experienced permanent damage to the neurological
design.Often though I find glimpses of
genius in such characters.This
individual constantly repeated phrases related to mycelia networks.Naturally I was intrigued being that I
contain a huge amount of interest in mycelia structures.Easy to observe in the Fungi Kingdom,
human-made technological structures, the brain, summarized perspectives of the
Universe, etc. but more difficult to observe in mobile and sentient organisms
here on Earth.
I believe this man
is able to perceive the mycelia networks not transparent in the 3-D reality
similar to how we frequently only observe the fruit of the Fungi mycelium
network and do not take the time to consider the much larger complex structure
that lies below the soils surface.This
is just my hope and I feel it is supported by what most consider rants of a
homeless madman.But if one would take
the time to sit with a homeless "madman" and learn their coding and
vernacular as best as one could they may begin to appreciate the insights from
a mad mind… they run ever so deep, ever deep.Yes, I think I shall return.
It also made me
regret not bringing my personalized mushroom burial suit, what if I am not to
return from this journey?I would
appreciate to be buried with my spores, I should be sure and motivated to
return home for the suit.
Day ?: He has passed
to me in-outward-in foci … it makes sense.It is as if the exercise was previous muscle in my mind and he merely
awakened and massaged that muscle.The
memory was there but I was not aware of it's presence.I only needed the catalyst to respark the
processes.The mycelium pattern
replicated throughout the Universe, from micro to macro (the Universe measured
as 'one unit'), is one hell of a ride.To trace the pattern in all known areas and to perceive that in my
mind's eye is an exercise that seems to help me perceive all the ecosystems in
which I participate as they exist not only in the 3D but as they exist in all
dimensions.It's as if I'm, literally,
beginning to see things that could have only always been there but to which I
have remained blind.
Day ?: I fear that
these exercises come with a price. It's not only that I now can clearly
understand the short-wired character's rants as cognitive connected ideas; I
think I may also be hallucinating to the point where I see physical
manifestations of ideas I once considered only were delusional thoughts coming
from the associate.
The exercises he
considers the ability to access something he calls, 'Kaza'. I do not where he
learned this term or if it has is just a sign he constructed from his own mind.
I cannot argue with the referent of said sign… it is as if through the practices
I truly tap into a power (for lack of a better word) that runs deep and is part
of everything around us. Let me refer to it as Kaza so as to be able represent
this referent. This 'Kaza' feels not invented, nor discovered… how does one
discover something that exists outside the framework of time and space? It just
is. All I can perceive at this point is that whatever the source of this Kaza
is truly does run deep. It's as if you are standing on mountain and attempt to
sense the foundation of that very same mountain and you can only sense that it
runs profound and the deeper you go the stronger it becomes, the surface and
greatest culmination being the frailest appendage of it's existence.
He has also
countless times mentioned the 'Belsars'. Belsars are what we are to fear and
what creates our fear. Belsars want our Kaza and Belsars are what parasitic
humans are doomed to become … he names them 'intergalactic feeders'. To him
they are alien invaders. I used to chuckle under my breath or mention to him
that I haven't noticed any alien invasion. At those times he would simply treat
me as the others that pitifully look upon him with disdain for his madness --
he would ignore me. I found myself apologizing for my insensitivity but also
lately feel I may have to apologize for doubting him… that is if I myself am
not going mad. Have I gone to far in these practices of I-O-I Foci? Have I cut
myself too much from my 1st reality that when I attempt to return I merely am
partially here? I cannot tell if the alien and foreign objects which I see in
my physical realm are objects that are actually present or projections from my
brain clouding my 1st reality vision. Arguably this could just be considered
life -- distorting reality to fit your needs and desires. But it seems beyond
that. I say this because the physical properties of those things I'm seeing do
not change from day to day. The only variance is their location.
Maybe I should rest.
I may be going mad… I have previously, in this life, questioned my sanity as I
do now. What concerns me is that never before have I had such vivid visual
hallucinatory perceptions when doubting my sanity.
This is my cancer...
and it slowly gnaws and creeps my inner Mycelium
perverting the network
corroding necessary functionaries
and piece by piece I disintegrate
so long as I let this cancer creep
and acknowledge it's existence.
You are my cancer
or so I thought to tell myself
until I realized the vehicle is driven
by none other than myself
and you hold no power to make me hate...
What was done by you may perpetuate
and at times it felt too late
until I once again and again epiphany
that I have sole manipulation
of my Mycelium's fate.
So I must sever the variables
that corrupt my inner workings
for it is wise to not spread this to others
but rather evoke create rather than hate
and that begins in my inner workings,
my beautiful Mycelium's fate.
I've been so lucky in life to be the by-product of cross-culturing -- an interesting mix between sometimes paradoxical dichotomy. I must admit it's been quite the fight and the tension experienced due to such a formula has, up to this point, left me void of processing identity and therein I find difficulty in those steps that follow with a fully (as near as one can get) processed identity. That's not to say identity is static by any means, quite the contrary.
I suppose the point I'm attempting to reach is that I've been in slow in figuring out in life what is important to me and with which things I tend to identify. And that brings me to one I find important after many experiences this remains ---->
Freedom is a symbol (as any word) with too many referents. Unfortunately for humans our inefficient communication (symbols and referents) leads to an exceptional amount of cross-and-intra-cultural miscommunication. Now dammit we need to neurological evolve and physically mutate to be able to communicate in sonar like dolphins and whales! Anyway, that's a rant for another time, one I am taking time to research and hoping one day to deeply delve into the subject....
back to the point at hand -- freedom.
I suppose a word to cross-reference my idea would be autonomy.
Having lived in locales with no rule of law, others with little and mostly ignored, surveillance state, rigid European norms, rules, etc. for everything ... und so weiter. I've found in all I've conducted myself the same and not according to the cliche that humans will act selfishly and somehow evil if there is no law or norm/standard for every act for every living moment of our day. I behave as myself without the micromanaging by a police, camera, by-law, familial member, boss, etc..... and I think I'm far from alone with this.
It's getting to the point where authorities in this world are feeling power shift; the imminent threat of losing what they deem "theirs". Just like a stubborn and shitty parent who, rather than grant autonomy (and all the principles attached to this) to a "rebelling" teenager, strangles and attempts to smoother (i.e. control) their child... we all know how this story ends. We also know the inevitable always happens and that teenager breaks free and processes an identity that they can consider their own. Sometimes such a battle is indeed intense and dangerous. Collateral in a battle of wills can extend horizontally and vertically bringing down much in it's wake.
I know that is a shitty and undeveloped metaphor filled with holes but I think one can understand to which it is I refer...........
Powers-that-be are not a boogie-man metaphor. They literally are institutions with groups and individuals intent on power and control. Men and women with deep issues filled with skewed perceptions of reality and what it means to be human. A few have the clarity to see the world for what it has become and the extremely negative consequences due to their actions and policies but are drunk on power and greed to stop -- filed with insatiable desire for adoration and gratification.
My point... the harder you squeeze the longer you may hold and control but the larger the reaction. As the pendulum now swings in it's critical mass, take heed, and be prepared for the pendulum to swing in it's opposite direction.
All I seek is autonomy for myself. Autonomy for those with which I network. A world where much is based on mutuality. A Freedum of unnecessary bureaucracy and complexities... A simplicity...
Fuck me; I know such a thing is a paradise lost and not to be seen with my living eyes BUT knock me out and bury me alive if I ever stop attempting to form that world with those forces that I have in my orbital dance.
It's always easier to speak in code, cliche, etc. and organize syntax into a rhythmic beat so that a reader is better off getting lost in the melody of the writing rather than finding the true meaning of what the author is attempting to transmit. That is when the writer is a cowardly poet such as myself. At times I have the clarity of mind to communicate a direct and clear message...something with meaning. More often than not it suites me better to speak in code so that none can directly confront what it is I communicate -- oftentimes I haven't the slightest of what it is I want to fucking say but feel the need to puke out some words so they are not crammed and repressed in my entity. Other times I feel empty. Many times I feel empty. And I stop writing...like so.............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
1. For Sara -
It's a grind to channel the foundational which is void of the insatiable...
it's content avoids nonsense and quickly defined is,
"the engine for our motive; our metaphorical locomotive",
and down to the core where the naked is norm
we find no use for justification
and happily accept anything adept
to feel a life connection...
the dance with an unknown the grinding of bones
a realization, "we're never alone"
and that comes with a must:
never stop seeking my Kindred Stardust
--- alone a reason for living.
2. When you change your position in relation to a "center" with which you metaphorically experience gravitational pull (e.g. relationships, occupations, etc.) there, if one gives heed, you find what/who you are -- that which you are made of; your history, genetics, biological traces (stardust), your evils/demons, your angels, traits, habits, etc. And as you find those new forces with which you will entangle a beautifully patterned orbit/gravitational pull you can be sure to control (if possible) those variables that are your own.
As the status-quot fails to recognize the major advantages and cures that would be enacted by a Global Debt Jubilee it would be wise that every human who is motivated to get off their figurative asshole to create as individual and group direct actions associated with the knowledge from these resources as well as others (I hope you can appreciate a RO sentence).
Amber Case made a case that shook the bass… NO, THE BASE!
Foundation, cornerstone, pillar, etc.
it caused an identity crisis of my 1st and 2nd
self
all the while lasers deflected off my empty brain case
and I seemed lost in analog and digitism
+++ I KNEW NOT IF YOU WERE A ‘1’ OR ‘0’ +++
and thought, “fuck it, there no longer remains physical
operations”
then determined it appropriate to store
the frontal lobe in the nearest whore – (which could be a
quasi-techie tuna stuff Apple Store)
my best browser-mate wonderfully named, “TOR”!
Next came the rave,
a lustful digital indulgence in new age hedonism
APPs, open-forums, social media, and the I-store
gimme more mORE MORE!!!
Unable to quench the urge to surge
I took an erotic shower of 1s & 0s
and let the information pour over and soak into me
like a (bit)torrent of flurry and power!
I made a visit to the Pirate Bay
the FBI said, “that’s not fucking a-o-k!”
and decided, I, to create an autonomous avatar
to take me onward to digital frontiers
and as I float and swerve through my binary matrix
I aim for a wormhole as my hard reset.
Monday, August 6, 2012
The war is a war and it's no human's war but a creation of:
fantasies, semi-fiction, not-non-fiction, smokescreens, lies, deceit, money-motivated, misdirected nationalism, a dedicated zombie population, apathy, greed, SHALL I CONTINUE?!
Incoherent is the only coherence I can work from me these days when most are bound by chains of metaphor and our prison is our own to construct...It's like "Choose Your Own Adventure"! Isn't it great. We can fictionalize our every day stake and our choice of Novocain is just about endless here in the USofA. Has 2012 made me cynical? When I drop the guard and conscious mental state...FUCK yeah! Do I wish to remain cynical, nope... that's a start, right?
I'm going to attempt an 'out' and construct creatively concrete counter-cynicism, it's the only way:
Fuck it, I want it gone.
Fuck it, I want it out.
Fuck it, we have
Germany—here I live. Here is the homeland of my mother and now my home. Cheese lovers. Ignorant to the beauty and diversity of peanut butter. Home of FLIPS
Here is a declaration for the absorption of a damn damn good idea seen in Germany → Hey, America, where the hell are the Flips?! Hey Germany, let your people eat the Cheetos!
