=== ANCHOR POEM ===
═════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
 Who is This Stranger I Know Too Well?
 
 
 Who are you, he who inspires me?
 
 
 You're a jewel of perfect symmetry.
 
 
 You taught me to love and be free;
 
 
 You taught me how to be like thee.
 
 
 
 
 Chapter One: Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire
 
 
 The bus went up outta Florida, leaving Miami behind as a distant memory. I
 still don't know if I miss it or if I'm suffering from some sadistic style of
 subtle Stockholm Syndrome. Regardless, I switched buses a number of times
 before I even hit the Georgia border, but having traveled this far down the
 line, it all feels like one long, long ride.
 
 
 For two days, I continued north until arriving in Virginia, where I
 effectively did a u-turn and traveled onwards to Tennessee, where Vince
 awaited me. I remember zoning out while looking out the window as the southern
 scenery whipped by in a blur, as I was enamored with the thought that I now
 would be living with my best friend and long-term handler. My mission was
 complete, it felt; I had done all that God wanted me to do and now I was being
 rewarded.
 
 
 When we finally arrived in Johnson City, where my friend told me to meet him,
 I hopped off the bus after thanking the driver, landing on the pavement of a
 new world. My stomach was doing loop-de-loops. Along with being excited, I was
 grateful to Vince for inviting me off the streets. But, my worrisome mind did
 a number on me as the rest of the crowd dispersed and he was still nowhere in
 sight.
 
 
 I lit a cigarette and thought of my options. Half of the cancer stick and a
 thousand tricky thoughts later, I came up with the idea to call the only phone
 number of his I had. Seems like the obvious answer, but I am an air head at
 times.
 
 
 Turned out it was the number for his home phone. His mom answered.
 
 
 "Hello?" came the sweet, Appalachian voice from the other end.
 
 
 "Hi," I started out, not sure what to say. "Is this Allison?"
 
 
 "Yes it is," Allison replied. "Is this by chance Victoria?"
 
 
 I confirmed, then asked, "Is Vince there?"
 
 
 She seemed surprised. "No, he left an hour ago to pick you up. He's not there
 yet?"
 
 
 I said no. I couldn't tell if that made me feel better or worse. On one hand,
 it confirmed that my friend Vince was real, which in hindsight was a silly
 thing to worry about, as I had met him once before at the first Shrug Life
 Syndicate gathering. Those were good memories. But, perhaps less silly, the
 absence of my friend spun my mind out and made me think that perhaps he had
 gotten in an accident…or worse.
 
 
 I worry a lot, less now than before, but it's part of being a traumatized,
 autistic, schizoaffective basketcase. I simply don't know what reality is, so
 every possibility could be true. Is an odd occurrence caused by the CIA,
 aliens, or perhaps God? Or is it just a coincidence, caused by a billion other
 factors? I never can tell.
 
 
 Sick joke: God gave me a good brain, but I can't even trust my own judgement.
 That means I think, then overthink, then overthink some more. As you'll no
 doubt hear, it's led to a lot of problems in my life, but Vince taught me to
 place my heart first, and that helps sort out much of the confusion. Satan
 can't trick you if you're listening to the direct communion to the big woman
 that we all have through that little beating organ in our chest.
 
 
 That was the furthest thing in my mind at that moment, though. Following old
 habits, I was entering panic mode. Was I now homeless again in a seventh city?
 Was my friend dead? Or was he really with the CIA and manipulating me? I tried
 doing some breathing exercises, but found that a more alluring technique to
 placate my triggered brain was finishing the rest of my cigarette in a fervor
 as I paced the length of the transit depot.
 
 
 Time ticked away one agonizing grain of sand after another, but after some
 mindful recalibration of my thoughts, I began relaxing. My brain might be a
 runaway train at times, but over the years I've learned to embrace the Shrug
 Life. That's a bit of philosophy our gaggle of weirdos adheres to. When life
 gives you lemons, just roll your shoulders and accept what is. Even though
 something tough and unpleasant might be rearing its head in front of me, I
 knew I had faced worse and come out on top. Worst case scenario, the road
 ahead of me was just a little bumpier than I had expected, and I could handle
 some bumps.
 
 
 So, I rode the roller-coaster of extreme moods that is common to me, gradually
 coming up with a contingency plan to survive if Vince had gotten flattened by
 a semi, until I learned that was a pointless exercise when I heard a familiar
 voice call out from behind me.
 
 
 "Hey, buddy!"
 
 
 I turned at once upon hearing those words. And lo and behold, there Vince was,
 walking towards me in a purple tie-dye t-shirt, paint-splattered cargo shorts,
 and fresh Chuck Taylors. His beard was fully grown but still shorter than
 mine, though it was as wild as his uncombed hair poking out from a hat that
 was as graffitied as his pants. I'll admit, it was a little bit of a shock
 seeing him like that, as I remember him being clean shaven at the gathering
 five years prior. However, that smile of his couldn't lie; this was the Vince
 I've loved for even longer. And I won't lie, he looked better with the beard.
 
 
 Without a second thought, I rushed up to my best friend, throwing my arms
 around him. He did the same, and our embrace felt like it lasted forever. It
 was good to finally be in his arms. We let go after about a quarter century of
 hugging, and when he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, I did a little
 giddy dance while giggling like a schoolgirl. Afterwards, we caught up while
 walking towards his mom's car, which he had parked around the corner.
 
 
 "Sorry I was late. I forgot where the bus station was, but I found and
 followed one of the short ones here. Your ride go alright?" he asked.
 
 
 I nodded, telling him I wore my mask the entire way up despite how itchy it
 was. He thanked me.
 
 
 "Thanks man, mom will really appreciate that. We're taking this covid thing
 real seriously. With mom being seventy-seven now and me finally reaching my
 forties, we aren't willing to take risks with these things."
 
 
 With that said, I thought of asking about the locals. "How many people go
 maskless around here?"
 
 
 "A lot," Vince answered with a hint of misfortune, knowing that I had just
 come from a vastly different world. I sighed. It would be an adjustment to get
 used to the rural Roan Mountain after spending most of my life in major
 cities.
 
 
 There was a pause as I thought about such things. I'm awkward like that. But
 then I asked, "How have you been doing?"
 
 
 He shrugged, as he tended to do. "I've been alright. It's just me and mom on
 the mountain now, so it's a little rough, but we've been handling it the best
 we can."
 
 
 I nodded in compassion. As much as I was grateful for a place to live, I was
 glad I could be here for him. If there's anything on this Earth that I know,
 it's being alone is hell on the soul.
 
 
 The conversation turned to what we were going to get into now that we were
 together after all the years talking back and forth with one another online. I
 asked, "What's the game plan?"
 
 
 He smirked as we reached Allison's new blue Ford Escape with the cosmic
 Bigfoot sticker on the back. "I got one, don't you worry."
 
 
 I believed him, as a warm feeling of butterflies fluttered across my belly.
 However, an odd, ominous feeling swept over me as I opened the passenger door,
 where I immediately spotted a large burn mark on the seat. Vince saw me see
 it.
 
 
 "Yea, I did that while I was smoking while robotripping. Mom was pissed. Don't
 worry about it."
 
 
 And so I didn't. It was just a cigarette burn. Could have happened to anyone.
 I didn't even have to see it after I hopped in the car, ready and eager to get
 to my first permanent home in over three years.
 
 
 I looked over at my friend climbing behind the wheel, and I saw he was smiling
 wide with glee. Vince was happy; that meant I was happy. And that's what
 mattered as we started a new life together.
 
 
 
 
 Following the Path
 
 
 Where are we going?
 
 
 What are we sowing?
 
 
 I certainly hope it's a better world for all.
 
 
 But, many more people must stand tall,
 
 
 By dutifully growing
 
 
 A wealth of loving.
 
 
 That is the true nature of our mortal trial,
 
 
 So let us stand together and not crawl.
 
 
 Yet, we are all showing
 
 
 Some signs of slowing.
 
 
 Therefore, I must pray that we do not fall,
 
 
 When the two of us hear our creator's call.
 
 
 
 
 Chapter Two: On the Road
 
 
 We were about five minutes out of Johnson City on our way east towards the
 North Carolina border when Vince finally folded and told me his secret plan he
 had been boasting about for a month now.
 
 
 "We got this trashed camper down by the old house that we can strip away and
 sell as scrap metal. That should give us enough money to fix Jane and then we
 should be set at getting our own place."
 
 
 I nodded along, agreeing with his reasoning. That jeep of his definitely was
 in need of some desperate repair the last time we were together. That was
 actually the first time I ever saw him in person; he was parked at the top of
 his long driveway with headlights cutting through the darkness as we arrived
 for the first and only Shrug Life Syndicate gathering I've managed to attend.
 I remember that we arrived exactly at midnight, not a minute sooner or later,
 which made the moment highly synchronous.
 
 
 Memories that far away seem to all blur together so everything feels like it
 happened in one day, but the first Shrug Life Syndicate gathering lasted four
 days, if you include the trip down and back. My girlfriend at the time, Amy,
 and I were picked up in New York at her mother's house by another one of the
 founders of our little online community. His name was [Redacted] and he was a
 Canadian that dabbled in the cognitive sciences. Like Vince, he had been a
 huge influence on me, but sadly that friendship fell apart as [Redacted] grew
 disenfranchised with the SLS, most in particular with Vince himself, as there
 were some personal disputes about Vince's dating life and drug of choice,
 which compounded the push back of Vince wanting to turn our community into an
 educational nonprofit. I can't speak of the former as I was devoid of internet
 when the big schism happened, but I was all for doing something more with the
 talent we collectively share. I'm sure that is part of the reason Vince
 invited me to stay with him; we recognized the potential of each other to
 shape the world into a better place.
 
 
 That's not what Vince said though. As we approached the edge of Elizabethton,
 he looked over at me and spoke with the tender kindness of a man with a big
 heart.
 
 
 "I'm glad you came here, man. I just couldn't stand to let my best bud live
 another night outside. You know I've been there too, so I just want you to
 know that our home is your home from now on."
 
 
 Feeling moved, I replied, "Thanks. I don't know what to say. I'm just
 grateful."
 
 
 He put his hand on my shoulder as a brother would. We then rode in silence for
 a minute or two, which allowed me to reflect on my past behavior during the
 first gathering. Not only had I clogged the toilet and told no one, but I had
 a few emotional outbursts as I was a mess back then. That's one of the reasons
 that I believe homelessness was one of the best things that ever happened to
 me. It pushed me so far out of my comfort zone that I had no choice but to
 change for the better.
 
 
 That was great because I was impulsive and dangling precariously from the
 heights of my oversized ego. I think that was a critical part of my
 transformation. Sleeping in piss-stained, cockroach infested storefronts
 humbled me, and I realized that everybody is just trying to swim in the
 direction they feel is best. Thus, radical acceptance is a moral imperative.
 Vince taught me that. I've profited immensely in ways other than financial
 wealth by embracing such values, but I wish more people could see this truth.
 Alas, tis the blind leading the blind.
 
 
 With that in mind, as we continued onwards to our now-conjoined future, we
 passed through the back roads of Elizabethton through a route known as Gap's
 Creek, which proved to be a winding set of backroads with more churches than
 seemed reasonable. One of these cultural staples had a big electronic
 billboard out front, sharing the times of services and other announcements;
 none of which you could actually read as you drove by at the speed limit.
 Still, when we reached the intersection with highway 19E, there was a woman
 flying a sign, asking for money. Since this town seemed devoid of any
 institutions to help the poor, I rolled my window down and handed her a fiver.
 I knew what it was like being up shit creek without a paddle, so I wanted to
 alleviate some of that stress for somebody else.
 
 
 I begged a lot at the beginning of my homeless journey. I didn't know how to
 survive, as I had not been raised with many good life lessons to help me stay
 afloat on my own. That in itself is part of the reason I had a major breakdown
 in college. It was undeniably true that I was maladapted to the world. My
 experiences with Earth Nation are also indisputably built from that
 maladaptation. Yet, those years of homelessness after escaping that new age
 cult allowed me to grow into a sustainable, productive woman with my juggling,
 performance arts, and writing.
 
 
 They say you can give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day, but if you teach
 a man to fish, he'll eat for a lifetime. That's part of the reason I was and
 still am a huge proponent of education in all its forms. I knew Vince felt the
 same way, but perhaps for different reasons. As a secular Buddhist and radical
 antistyle artist, he was a minority in the deep interior of the Bible Belt,
 and that came with a price while he was growing up. It might be a beautiful
 area, but neither of us would ever raise a kid here.
 
 
 It was then when it hit me. I couldn't be Victoria here. I had to be Vic.
 Which was fine, that's how the gang members in Miami Beach referred to me. I
 was able to accept being called by masculine names and pronouns. I had long
 passed through the self-loathing phase of having dysphoria, to arrive in a
 position where I openly grow my beard out to prove that I don't need to look
 any particular way to be happy. I don't care what other people think of me,
 but I haven't always been this enlightened. To put it lightly, I've been
 through some trials. And, having done so, I can say that people who judge
 other people on superficial things are the worst. But, we can rise above by
 continuing to align with our hearts.
 
 
 Less than a tenth of a mile down 19E, Vince asked me, "Hey man, can you buy
 me, like, a forty or something?"
 
 
 Of course I said yes. I knew his schizophrenia had put him out of work for
 many years, so I wanted to soothe him as he was able to soothe my pain from
 being homeless. He pulled into a gas station I would later learn is
 colloquially called Captain Jack's. It had the cheapest gas this side of
 Elizabethton, and was a reliable place to get beer or a pipe of any variety.
 
 
 With compassion in my heart, I got Vince what he wanted, while getting myself
 something as well. Still, when he cracked his beer open while accelerating to
 sixty miles an hour, I couldn't help but feel distraught at such brazen
 self-indulgence. But, all I did about it was pop open the hard iced tea I
 picked up for myself. At least passengers are allowed to drink while they are
 being driven somewhere in Tennessee, Vince tells me.
 
 
 
 
 A Home at Last
 
 
 They say home is where the heart is,
 
 
 Which is great now that I have a new one.
 
 
 The damaged needle of my crazy compass
 
 
 Spins in every direction under the sun,
 
 
 But, here it stands still, still as can be,
 
 
 So my quest is over; I am finally free!
 
 
 I have a home in the love you give
 
 
 And by reflecting that in me, we live
 
 
 In a state where conflict has come to pass;
 
 
 It is like there was a great lottery and I won.
 
 
 
 
 Chapter Three: The Mountain Side
 
 
 About ten minutes later we reached the western half of Roan Mountain, where we
 were greeted by a big sign praising the annual Rhododendron Festival at the
 end of June. Having already downed half his forty, Vince spared no time in
 showing me the highlights of his home town.
 
 
 "Look under this bridge coming up. You'll see it underneath. The red and the
 gold." He pointed directly at a graffiti tag on the concrete column near the
 riverfront. There was an enigma of a symbol I've seen Vince post on the SLS
 before.
 
 
 "That your tag?" I asked the obvious question. 
 
 
 "Yup," he replied, gulping down another swallow of his forty, as there was no
 incoming traffic. "Protip: don't post your tags on Facebook if you plan to hit
 a cop car around here." I thought at first he meant literally running into
 their vehicle, but then it dawned on me what he meant. I had never done any
 real graffiti before; just some words and simple drawings in chalk that came
 right off. Never got in trouble for it, at least.
 
 
 I remember passing the post office some time shortly afterward. There was a
 park with a stage behind it. Allison would organize the summer's music events
 that went on each Saturday from May to August. Additionally, she would host
 one of her weekly jam sessions there for local musicians to play together for
 a few hours at a time, just for fun.
 
 
 There were some houses on the left, too, as we were entering the more dense
 center of Roan Mountain. Yet, Vince told me that the other side, where the
 park was, used to be full of trailers, but they got washed away during a flood
 some years ago. I later learned from Allison that most of the town, including
 her as she was out and about, had to evacuate to the elementary school where
 she provided extra clothes for those in need from her suitcase, but Vince and
 his father were fine at the top of the mountain that their property sat on.
 
 
 Puerto Nuevo, the best and only Mexican restaurant in town, whipped by soon
 after. We then passed one of the two gas stations in Roan Mountain, a
 Scotchman. There was a bank and a credit union on the left, too. An empty
 grocery store zoomed by next, which might as well be haunted for all I know.
 
 
 Next up on the left was a food truck that has since been upgraded to a small
 building with picnic tables and some cover from the sun and weather. I think
 it is a good place to eat. It also marked the spot of the Roan Mountain flea
 market, where you could see one or two people at a time selling their stuff in
 the warmer months. Then, immediately after that stood a pharmacy in an old
 farmhouse.
 
 
 There was some construction on the right, which by its future signage, I
 erroneously thought was some sort of massage parlor that sat on stilts,
 requiring everybody to walk up a story of steps just to get inside. Odd
 choice, I thought. But, on a whim one day, Vince stopped there to see if they
 sold cheap kratom, which was when I would learn that it was really a health
 food store.
 
 
 Not too far down the traffic-light free main strip of the town, we passed the
 future beer store on the right. It was convenient for Sundays, because that's
 when a local ordinance in our neighboring North Carolinian town, Elk Park,
 restricts the sale of alcohol on the sabbath, but ultimately the alcohol taxes
 in Tennessee are too high to make it a cheap endeavor.
 
 
 To contrast the beer store, the local cemetery sat across the street on a
 hill. I like graveyards, as I'm a bit of a goth at heart, but even so, the
 packed parking lot of the Redimart grocery store was what caught the bulk of
 my attention. I craned my neck to see some of the locals to uncover just what
 passed as acceptable culture here in this quaint mountain town.
 
 
 Further up, the infamous Bob's Dairyland with the slowest drive-through known
 to man stood tall with its vast history. There's a reason it's always packed
 after church lets out on Sundays. Yet, I still don't understand why their sign
 promotes pinto beans, of all things. I've been told it's a hot ticket item in
 the area, but I have still not witnessed anyone order them. But, moving on, I
 have to mention that there was also an auto part shop conjoined with an auto
 repair shop that had over a dozen cars just sitting outside it.
 
 
 Next to Bob's was the second gas station, a Valero, which also housed a
 much-frequented Subway. One of three thrift stores in town stood innocently
 next to the gas station. On the right was a steakhouse that I have never had
 the cash to justify splurging at, and a beauty salon in the same building that
 I also have never visited because I'm not one to care for looking like a doll.
 I am beautiful as I am.
 
 
 The town was really shaping up to be a unique combination of the bare bones
 mixed with an abundance of what you needed. Then we reached a stretch where
 two signs sat. The one for Cloudland Highschool triggered Vince into speaking.
 "Fucking assholes. I told you about how they illegally expelled me, right?" I
 nodded in confirmation. He continued: "Yea, they literally stole my book of
 poetry and took photocopies of it, so they could use it to kick me out,
 because I was the 'weird' kid."
 
 
 I knew that, but seeing the innocent sign next to the one for Smoky Mountain
 Bakers made the story appear more real. Here they were, these conservative
 administrators, probably constituting some of the people who attended the
 dozens of churches in town, which should teach everybody to love thy neighbor,
 but obviously they were too preoccupied by the need to hate my friend because,
 back then, he was the blue-haired son of the "hippie couple" in town, who
 happened to like bands like Marilyn Manson and Korn.
 
 
 That made me wonder how well I would fit in here. I had long since forsaken
 transitioning because I was effectively a sasquatch, but I was still a woman
 on the inside. I was sure that being transgender, combined with my eccentric
 nature and often extreme opinions on things would cement me as the new weirdo
 in town. But, if I am to be honest, that would be the case in most settings I
 could plant myself in.
 
 
 Those thoughts fluttered in my head as we sped past the electrical co-op, a
 second thrift store, Plumber's Pro Hardware, the Roan Mountain emergency
 dispatch center, and what was apparently a flooring depot before reaching the
 elementary school that sat across from the Dollar General, which Vince called
 the "SmallMart." I'm aware there's some things I missed, as there's plenty of
 buildings with no description or sign out front, but I'm sure they're
 important to somebody.
 
 
 We then started slowing down as we approached the only veterinarian's office
 for quite a ways in any direction. We turned left just before the red-roofed
 building which had a small cat statue perched on the edge looking out with its
 paw up. Vince took this as a sign to begin downing the rest of his beverage.
 
 
 "Welcome to home, Buck Mountain," Vince said as we started climbing in
 altitude. "This is the bad side of town. You'll never see a cop here unless
 something big is going down, which hasn't happened in years." He finished his
 forty in one big chug as his hands ran on autopilot. "It's good because you
 can do pretty much anything up here any time you want."
 
 
 I knew all that, as we had a blast getting drunk and smoking some green for a
 few days in a row during the first gathering. In truth, I anticipated I would
 be doing that for the next few days as well, to settle in, y'know? Hell, I
 half expected that I was in heaven now after spending so much time in the
 purgatory that is homelessness, regardless of how much fun I had in Miami
 Beach preceding Vince's invitation to come north.
 
 
 We went to the very tippy top of Buck Mountain, where the foliage is dense, no
 cell signal can reach, and the local kids ride their dirt bikes at all hours
 of the day. As we pulled in the driveway, I expected to keep going straight on
 the tire-carved path back down the mountain. But, to my surprise, I found that
 the same trailer we had partied in down the road during the gathering was now
 relocated here to become my new home. I wasn't expecting that, as when I was
 here last, they all lived in a small shack at the base of their nineteen acres
 of mountain real estate.
 
 
 It didn't look like much, with weather-worn imitation wood paneling wrapping
 the rectangular structure in a loose hug, but it was a place to rest my head
 in the comfort of loved ones. Aptly, Allison's last name meant "the home" in a
 language the CIA once tried to make me learn, which is a statement that I'm
 sure earns me a few raised eyebrows. My story has many twists and turns, but
 for now you should know my studies of strategic languages ended only when the
 cult that hooked me like an unsuspecting bass managed to gaslight, manipulate,
 and shame me to get me to work for them sixty-to-ninety hours a week on
 average. I would later try to pick the linguistic challenge back up years
 later during my time spent homeless, but my progress was like a Jenga tower
 that half collapsed. I forgot basic words, and I just feel like I have
 failed.
 
 
 That's something that should be looked at in finer detail; my feelings of
 failure, I mean. So, let's take the first of many breaks from linear
 storytelling to express how life can feel at times for me. Like a shattered
 mirror, I reflect many different parts of the past at different times. Some
 days I may live in several sections of my turbulent past all at the same time.
 Disorienting, it can feel like I don't know what's real. It takes a lot to
 break something so thoroughly, but as you'll see, I've been a punching bag for
 the devious spirit of fate. Couldn't keep me down, though, because I am like
 the phoenix; always rising no matter how badly beaten in battle I've become.
 
 
 
 
 Mommy
 
 
 Mommy is what I used to call you,
 
 
 When I was a kid so long ago.
 
 
 It's because of your love that I grew
 
 
 To always let my kindness show.
 
 
 Mommy, you were always getting sick.
 
 
 To help you out, I would try to keep clean.
 
 
 As much as I'd scrub I never got the trick,
 
 
 Because you'd still be plagued by the unseen.
 
 
 Mommy, you were supposed to grow old!
 
 
 Having you leave us like that hurt like hell.
 
 
 I'm sorry for not always doing what I was told;
 
 
 It's because I failed you that I try to do well.
 
 
 Mommy was what you called out at the end.
 
 
 I tried to help you but I wasn't good enough.
 
 
 You were dying, so on me you had to depend,
 
 
 But even being there for you was too tough.
 
 
 Mommy, if I could do it all over again I would.
 
 
 It's not fair to you that I was such a bad son.
 
 
 I'll give you all my love and more as I should;
 
 
 For you, I promise that one day I'll be the sun.
 
 
 
 
 Chapter Four: Scarred from Birth
 
 
 Having let you in to a little bit of what makes me tick, it should be noted
 that feeling like an abysmal failure is a key part of my mental health. Those
 loathsome seeds of self-mutilating ruination are planted deep in my psyche.
 Prepare for a sad story, if you're the type to really feel another person's
 soul.
 
 
 See, it all started when my mom found out she had AIDS a mere two months after
 I was born. It was God's way of welcoming me to the world. I forgive the big
 woman now, for my path on this Earth has been the ultimate journey of
 awakening to my divine spirit, but before Vince and many faceless actors sent
 me on my mission of healing, I held much scorn in my heart. For a large chunk
 of my early years that I was here, alive, learning, and suffering as a human
 being, I was hell-bent on the idea of revenge. That was once a big part of my
 story, too, but no more.
 
 
 It's understandable, at least. Imagine having to witness all the manner of
 disease ravaging my mother like it did; I grew up thinking that I was born to
 be punished. My earliest delusions had me caught up in the notion that I was a
 worthless god who had the rest of the pantheon turn on them from before I even
 had a chance to prove myself. I had a whole mythos where I had been tricked to
 kill my sister, the goddess of harmony, and my punishment was to stay locked
 to this awful planet until I found her soul once again. Then, we'd go on to
 take over the world, as I had fallen under the notion that my future self was
 sending me subliminal messages through synchronicities, although I didn't know
 that word then, so I thought I just had special powers.
 
 
 This is all a natural result of magickal thinking gone awry. Such is the fate
 for those scarred in childhood as I was. My innocence flayed alive, I watched
 as the woman who loved me with all her heart died for the first nine years of
 my life. It was a slow rot. There are many memories of her being in the
 hospital or as she lingered in pain at home that flash to the front of my mind
 that could paint you a tragic picture of those unforgettable scenes I was
 forcibly cast in, but the real horror that plagues me came at the bitter end.
 
 
 For the last of her months that she was allowed to live, my mom was
 mercilessly struck by an opportunistic ear infection. It killed half of her
 face, and only progressed into a hellishly rapid descent of her cognitive
 functions until one sudden day I came home from school to find she had
 regressed to a child-like state with my grandma tending to her in tears. I
 tried losing myself in my homework, but the threat in my environment promising
 my mother's pain was all-consuming. Then it got worse.
 
 
 My father never got along with my grandma, so when he got home, he forcibly
 kicked her out. A fight broke out, resulting in my grandmother coming to my
 room to say goodbye, where she told me with eyes watering that whatever
 happens, we would get through it. My dad would come in after my grandma left
 and put her down, more concerned that she scratched him. All I could think
 about was my mom, who was now tearing up and asking about where her mom went.
 
 
 That was the worst. I can still hear clearly how she cried out for her mom
 nonstop for the whole night. That was her last night she spent at home. She
 died within a week. And my last memory of her that isn't of her in a coma is
 of her trying to escape from the hospital with a dinner plate sized bed sore
 on her backside that danced from behind an open hospital gown in order to
 imprint itself in my mind forever.
 
 
 Here come the tears. It still hits me that my fucking mom died, like I still
 can't believe it's real. My last memories are of her being naked, crying like
 a baby. I felt so helpless. But, at least she had nurses helping her when we
 got her to the emergency room. Just hours earlier, I was left on my own trying
 to calm her troubled, addled mind. My dad had been doing just that, as my mom
 would get in fits every half hour or so, where he would comfort her, then come
 into my room to vent after she quieted down. I had no one to open my fears and
 pain to. Wishing I had a sibling to hold and cry together with, I faced my
 most scarring memory alone.
 
 
 The worst wounds of my life were suffered because there was one time after
 midnight where my dad disappeared. Maybe he was smoking, but regardless, I
 couldn't find where he went as I scrambled over the whole house in my fuzzy
 purple pajamas looking for him. Meanwhile, my mother incessantly yelled for
 her own mommy. So, with much hesitancy, I succumbed to the responsibility of
 helping my afflicted parent, and I anxiously marched into her room and tried
 to comfort her the best I knew how.
 
 
 I'll save you from the daunting process of assisting my mom, but I will say
 that it wasn't enough. No matter what I tried to do, she kept screaming
 louder. I was worthless in that moment and was on the verge of a meltdown
 because I couldn't help her. It felt like I was the worst son in the world,
 all because I failed my mother as she circled the drain. Now I feel like the
 worst daughter, but it's getting easier to love myself and think that my mom
 is looking down and smiling, being proud of me.
 
 
 I have a lot to live up to. She wasn't perfect, I know that, but my mom was an
 angel for me. Yet, I can't even remember the good times I spent with her; all
 that my hippocampus hung onto were the most traumatizing of memories. A
 notable cause of this was her fierce Sicilian temper. A vision of being
 brought to tears because I dared go looking for my six-year birthday presents
 early is playing in my head at this moment. Now one is summoned of her ripping
 into me for booing someone at an assembly because I wanted to be like a
 character I saw in a cartoon. Finally, one of my earliest memories from
 preschool is trapped in my cranium; it regards me accidentally tearing a hole
 in a kid's shirt and dreading my mother finding out for the rest of the day.
 
 
 In short, I got in trouble a lot, but I know that both my parents cared about
 me growing up right. Along with all the punishments, there was a genuine
 heartfelt desire to get me and my different brain to develop into a successful
 combo of kindness and good citizenry. Still, because of how trauma inserts
 itself into one's inner reality, I really feel like my entire childhood was
 one screw up after another in regards to my mother. Although, my dad
 contributed his fair share of ruthless discipline to make me perpetually feel
 like I was always in the wrong as well.
 
 
 And I know that's all a fallible perception, because I can distinctly remember
 the look on both my parents' faces when I won first prize in our school's
 science fair; if you're curious, I did an experiment on taste and smell to
 understand what was going on with my mom and her ear infection. That standing,
 my mom's face is cemented in memory in particular, perhaps too well, actually,
 because she just had the stitches removed from her eye. Such happiness danced
 in her left eye, but next to it sat its unmoving, dead counterpart. She tried
 to joke about it being her evil eye, but that didn't stop fourth grade
 Victoria from being terrified of the harsh reality unfolding in front of her.
 
 
 I dreamed of her a lot after she passed. Always in pain, or worse, possessed
 by some demon and seeking to bring me pain. There's one nightmare in
 particular that stands out. I forget how it started, but it ended in the
 cemetery where she is buried. Well, her coffin was exhumed, and as I got
 closer, it slammed open and my mom sat up. Only it wasn't my mom. She was
 rotten like a zombie and had malevolence bursting from behind her undead eyes.
 I did the only thing I could; I ran. But, she followed and in the utmost
 haunting voice, she yelled in pursuit, "You can't escape me, Victoria! I am
 your mother and together we are bound forever." Fitting as a metaphor for how
 my grief still hasn't dissipated more than twenty years down the line.
 
 
 I'm sorry, I just miss her. Best damn mom in the world, going above and beyond
 what she needed to do to give me the best chance at success in life, despite
 being on her literal death bed for most of her last years. I don't even know
 her, not really as an adult knows someone, which in itself leads to more
 feelings of failure. She has been transmuted into an archetype of a hero in my
 eyes, and I feel that I can never be as strong as that woman who was my first
 love.
 
 
 I can try though. I always try. Part of being hyper-vigilant, I reckon.
 Perhaps that makes me strong. Perhaps it makes me a fool. Or maybe it just
 means I'm human and going to have virtues as well as flaws. It's taken me a
 long while to escape the black and white thinking that trapped me in a world
 where I either felt like the epitome of the second coming or compounded as the
 most useless, subhuman mutant on the planet. Those were truly hard times,
 being locked in the halls of my mind like a prison.
 
 
 But…the past is the past and we best not linger on it, because even now,
 years later, I felt welcomed by a second family, and for that I am eternally
 grateful. I vowed to return their love to them in spades, because that's what
 my mom always tried to teach me. Being neurodivergent, I didn't always get the
 message, but because I threw myself at the lessons life threw at me, I learned
 to cherish those people who enter my life. You never know what you have until
 you lose it. And I wasn't planning on losing Vince.
 
 
 
 
 All You Need
 
 
 Once you live on the street
 
 
 You grow on the concrete.
 
 
 Having done so myself
 
 
 I can claim that wealth
 
 
 Is just a fancy illusion.
 
 
 You say that's a delusion,
 
 
 But look how I'm happy
 
 
 With only what you see.
 
 
 I don't need a fancy bed
 
 
 In order to rest my head;
 
 
 Instead, I'm in the know
 
 
 That less is the way to go.
 
 
 
 
 Chapter Five: A Real Home
 
 
 Allison greeted us at the door with a wide, warm smile, but she wasn't the
 only one to do so. Vince's greying black lab, Freya, adorned in a pretty
 lavender bandana, came up to smell this new person in her domain. She must
 have recognized my scent from years ago because she didn't bark at all,
 instead choosing to snaffle all over me while wagging her tail vigorously. Of
 course, I started petting her immediately, as I began to take in my
 surroundings.
 
 
 I could only remember seeing the interior of the trailer in the pitch
 blackness of the starry mountain night, but I remembered the general layout:
 doors to the outside in the kitchen and living room, which were separated by a
 long counter where the kitchen sink sat, and then bedrooms branching off from
 each end, both of which had a bathroom accompanying them. Yet, I did not
 recall that this space was as run-down as the exterior, with chunks of the
 linoleum floor missing and rotting wood at the rear door, not to mention a
 steady helping of cobwebs latching onto the ceiling fixtures.
 
 
 Yet, despite the condition the trailer was in, it still had a touch of love
 sprinkled throughout it. There were five paintings in the living room, one
 done by Allison herself, as well as one around the corner near her loom that
 took up half the kitchen space. More were in Allison's room to the right of
 the entrance. On the opposite side of the house by the windows sat Allison's
 battle station, where she would play solitaire and check Facebook and her
 email religiously while sitting in an old navy blue wheelchair that used to be
 for Vince's father. There was a couch and a couple tables full of stuff
 stacked on them, to include a silver urn that sat on its own table with a vase
 of local flowers. With the three of us, plus Freya and the trio of feral cats
 that tamed themselves to come in and eat, respectively named Libertas, Biggie
 Meows, and Spot, this little dwelling was a tight fit, but it was cozy in a
 way that I had not known family life to be growing up.
 
 
 In the process of greeting me, Allison asked, "What have you been up to while
 you were down in Miami Beach?"
 
 
 I didn't want to tell her everything, but I told her the truth. "I wrote a
 lot, mainly in the park on Ocean Drive, or where I slept on Lincoln Road,
 unless I was spending time in North Beach which had better food options for me
 with my limited resources. Mostly, I just tried to survive each day, putting
 distractions between me and the day-to-day struggles of being out there like
 that."
 
 
 She smiled. "Well, we're glad to have you. Vince talks about you a lot." I
 blushed a little bit at that, but I'm sure neither of them saw my rosy cheeks
 through the gnarled barb that constituted my ever-growing beard.
 
 
 Allison then moved on to practical matters. "So, where do you want to sleep?
 We have the couch, which would be where I would set up shop, but you can
 always sleep in Vince's room if you prefer."
 
 
 I looked at the couch. It seemed comfy enough, but I didn't care about
 comfort. As much as I knew Vince was doing me a solid by letting me stay here,
 I knew I was going to help him too. His posts on the SLS combined with his
 frequent messages to me were made out of desperation; he was clearly strung
 out and looking for any human contact whatsoever.
 
 
 Since his schizophrenia started interfering with his life, he had spent six
 years at the top of this mountain and he said he was going stir crazy. I would
 learn that there's little to do here but drink, do some drugs, and fiddle
 about on your computer and phone while dealing with the internet that is made
 out of sticks and stones, and that could get boring fast. Devoted to this new
 cause, I wasn't going to let my best friend suffer anymore. I was going to
 make his life better by livening up the long days by being his constant
 companion.
 
 
 As a result, I told Allison that I would find a spot in Vince's room to rest
 my head. She asked me if I was sure, and I nodded affirmingly with an eager
 grin. I had made up my mind.
 
 
 Some more hem-hawing back and forth with Allison about general questions and
 concerns followed, but when we were finished, Vince took me to his room, which
 was beyond the rolling metal desk Allison used for her computer. A busted door
 clung to its hinges, but it didn't block our way.
 
 
 Calling Vince's room a mess would be an insult to messes everywhere. He had
 said that he would clean it up prior to my arrival, but there were likely two
 hundred beer cans stacked in mountains next to his bed, or in beer-amids as he
 called them. I looked around, honestly impressed at how dedicated to creating
 a disaster zone as he was.
 
 
 Looking over the permanent staples of the room, he had a television and an
 Xbox, an empty dresser, a filthy nightstand, and a bed without any sheets. He
 also had a handful of paintings, most of which were stacked together by the
 door, but there was a trippy painting of Vince's father on the west wall above
 the dresser, as well as an expressionist painting from the sixties behind the
 television which sat on the north wall, in between the bathroom and the
 closet. There was also a picture of a moth on a skull tacked to the wall,
 which gave me the heebie jeebies.
 
 
 It was then that I saw it. A large, two-hundred fifty tablet bottle of generic
 Dollar General antihistamines, pure diphenhydramine, sat on his dresser, just
 spiting me with its presence. I almost asked right then and there for Vince to
 get rid of the damn thing. I knew if I found an opportunity to down, say,
 six-hundred milligrams of that accursed stuff, I would. Then I would do
 terrible, awful, deplorable things to myself. But shame won out. I didn't want
 to let him know of my problem. Maybe I could control myself. So I shut up and
 about-faced out of the room.
 
 
 While doing box breathing, I dropped my backpack that contained all of my
 possessions on the couch in the living room, and helped Vince grab some
 fifty-five gallon black trash bags in the kitchen. We made quick work of the
 unending hoard of Natty Daddy cans, as well as the nightstand full of
 cigarette butts. We then moved his bed so it was against the south wall.
 
 
 It hadn't taken long, but the room was looking presentable. It didn't need to
 be a five-star hotel, because I had the most important thing of all: family. I
 felt more than welcomed as a guest. I was one with these people who had so
 graciously let me into their home. We were going to all be happy together.
 That was the goal, at least.
 
 
 
 
 I Forgive You
 
 
 I forgive you, but I can never forget.
 
 
 I'm sorry if I make you look like shit,
 
 
 But your heavy hand and sharp wit
 
 
 Damaged me greatly; then you gaslit
 
 
 Me, denying everything, and I quit
 
 
 Knowing what was real. I even slit
 
 
 My flesh open so that I could get
 
 
 A sense of what I could feel. So, I sit
 
 
 Here now explaining why I wasn't fit
 
 
 To handle this world that I saw as a pit
 
 
 That I escaped only when God had lit
 
 
 A beacon of light with some magick.
 
 
 
 
 Chapter Six: Growing Up With Family
 
 
 There was still one task we had to get done before I could claim a spot to be
 my bedspace. Vince had more clothes than he knew what to do with, most of
 which had spray paint spackled all over them in no particular form or pattern;
 the style of the antistyle artist. As we moved the rolling hills of clothing
 into the dresser and a heaping pile beside it, I came to understand why Vince
 called himself a diva.
 
 
 I remember having a lot of clothes just a few years prior. Even though I
 didn't care what I wore, I had earned so many free T-shirts over the years
 from track meets and other races. I had so much when I needed so little.
 That's one major reason I forgive my dad for kicking me out of his house,
 because it was the best thing for me. Not only that, but I deserved it. I was
 a wreck of a human being before I got abruptly humbled by my odyssey on the
 streets. The extended experience changed me so I am no longer as much of an
 emotionally volatile basketcase.
 
 
 To put it mildly, being an unstable problem of a person was the reason I was
 kicked out in the first place. I had always been sort of bipolar since middle
 school. But, after escaping the cult, breaking up with my girlfriend, Amy, and
 returning home a failure, my heart and mind were like a pile of fragmented
 ceramic shards mockingly showing what a real piece of pottery my mind could
 have been. Unshockingly, I was barely holding it together. I was having
 outbursts frequently, but they weren't ungodly terrible, as I was being guided
 by higher dimensional life forms through inputs on my laptop, and that gave me
 a sense of ease.
 
 
 In fact, I remember a great reprieve of my stress occurred on an acid trip in
 the first month I was back. It felt like God Herself was setting up a lesson
 for me, which started with me literally waking up to a picture of a white
 rabbit taunting me on my Facebook feed, which I followed, and in doing so, I
 received personalized inputs that unveiled the blinders from in front of my
 eyes. In but a few hours after a lifetime of denial, it all clicked with me
 that I had a warm, nurturing side that I had neglected for most of my life.
 That was the first time I accepted that I was a woman. And that's still not
 the most profound, life-altering acid trip I've had.
 
 
 Even so, I would break down crying that afternoon as I meditated under the
 tree in the backyard where I used to swing. With no more effort than it took
 to breathe, I saw all the parts of me that Amy tried to teach me about, but I
 was unable to comprehend in my denial. Likewise, the waterworks were called
 upon that night as I told my dad about my revelation, and he said he would
 always love me no matter what. That was the most affectionate heart to heart
 with him I think I've ever had, even if he did ramble about random things
 being at a loss of what to say to me, as we had functionally lived in two
 separate worlds inside the same house for years.
 
 
 This sentiment would flip on its head though, as I blogged about my gender
 revelations and my dad found them and read I had taken a narcotic in his
 house. Naturally, he was pissed and wouldn't hear that the tender moment we
 shared that night was only possible because I had taken the sacrament. This
 would prove to be the kicking off point to some logarithmic growth in tensions
 between the two of us.
 
 
 Then, on that fateful day, one of the countless pets my dad kept, a black,
 stubborn minipig named Harley, had made a literal pigsty of the house after I
 had a bad session at my therapist's, who made me feel like a piece of shit. I
 wasn't perfect, but I wasn't going to just lay down and get called a terrible
 person because of how I behaved in treatment years ago, when I was still very
 lost. It triggered my feelings of failure, which rippled into waves of
 unstable emotional dysregulation. In my explosive rage, I broke the microwave
 and put a basketball-sized hole in the wall behind my makeshift bed in the
 attic that I was allotted after they gave my brother my room when I was in the
 cult.
 
 
 Well, my father came home after a long day at work, saw the microwave, and had
 enough of me. He came thumping up the stairs, livid, ready to rip me to shreds
 verbally, when he saw the hole I had made. Beside himself, he demanded I get
 out right then and there. I broke down crying and begged him to let me stay,
 grappling with his leg as a wounded bear might wrap itself around the base of
 a small tree looking for any shelter it can find in a storm.
 
 
 That just made him madder. He kicked me off, and accused me of a thousand
 things. The ones that stuck were that I was just like my mother and that I was
 beyond anyone's help. As it happened in a heated flash, I don't remember
 exactly how the exchange was put together, but it ended with me asking him how
 all the hand-crafted trinkets and doodads my mother made for me before she
 died had gotten destroyed and thrown away. What he said next drove me mad.
 
 
 "I'm still pissed that you made me do that."
 
 
 I'll illuminate you with the scenario in question. I was eleven, and my
 stepmom at the time was away at a darts tournament. I think my dad somehow got
 the idea that she was doing drugs and cheating on him. I don't know, I was
 eleven. I just remember some of the things he said over the phone, and then
 what was said when they divorced when I was a couple of years later.
 
 
 Over my stepmom's absence, he got continuously more pissy, like he did the
 year before when the sewage line broke and he snapped while cleaning it up,
 smashing my head into the kitchen floor several times,  relenting only when
 his girlfriend at the time called to hang out. Now seeing the same pattern in
 my father, I was on edge, especially after I put my feet up on the new couch
 and he grabbed my leg and punched me in the tibia as hard as he could. I kept
 trying to do everything right to avoid being attacked again, but alas, in my
 anxious worry, I forgot to take out the kitchen garbage on trash night.
 
 
 That triggered a whole day of what might not be considered torture, but
 certainly was child abuse, which started as he cleared the shelves of all my
 memories in a violent, thrashing rage. He would bag up the shattered remains
 so he could take them to the dump, but only after he laid his hands on me.
 
 
 My head was used as a battering ram against my door, which my dad would later
 deny was where the big dents came from in a bout of the worst gaslighting I
 experienced before the cult got their hands on me. Regardless, when he
 finished and slammed me back on the wood floor, I instinctively reached out
 and grabbed his wrist. He growled, "Don't resist or I'll make it worse."
 
 
 Feeling my spirit collapse, I helplessly accepted the next phase of punishment
 that then ensued. Mostly, it consisted of him using my head to pound the
 knowledge that I fucked up into my brain, with much hair pulling and getting
 tossed to new locations, once being told to lay there like a dog in the wet
 remnants of a broken snow globe while he went for a smoke break. Thankfully,
 or maybe not, depending on your perspective, he never struck me. He was too
 smart to leave bruises.
 
 
 After much of that series of traumatizing instances, he had me sit still and
 think of an apology for him for hours on end. While I was busy doing that, he
 would then have an epiphany, telling me that I should stand, as I didn't
 deserve to sit. I didn't care about such details at the time. I was in shock,
 petrified that he would go ahead and find the homework I failed to finish or
 the porn I had taken from my stepmom. Fearing unimaginable doom, I stared
 unwaveringly at the letter "E" on the spine of a book on my bookshelf. Never
 relenting in his anger, he would come by every hour or so and ask for an
 apology. Everything I said wasn't good enough, and each attempt earned me
 scathing criticism, but I kept trying to perfect my apology. I still remember
 the gist of it.
 
 
 "I sorry dad, I deserve everything. I'm sorry I caused you grief and failed to
 do my duty of taking out the trash. I won't ever forget again. I haven't been
 putting my best effort forward, but I realize that I need to do that to be a
 good son. You do so much for me. It's only fair that I pay it back to the best
 of my ability. That's what I had to do for mom when I chose to play video
 games while she was dying. I wasn't thinking about other people then, and I
 wasn't now. I'm so, so sorry. I promise to be better, because I need to be if
 I'm messing up this much."
 
 
 For reference, my dad holding the fact I escaped into the worlds of my video
 games after being told to spend time with my mom near the end was something
 he'd bring up and hold over my head anytime I was in trouble. Yet another big
 reason that feeling like a failure is cemented in my head. It made me feel
 awful, absolutely atrocious about being a bad son that I would often
 contemplate suicide. I almost jumped off a waterside when my dad and I went to
 Disney World when I was ten, but ultimately I'm glad I talked my way out of
 jamming a knife into the back of my neck. I had thought that the muscle
 allowing me to nod my head was really my brainstem. That would have been
 painful.
 
 
 Back on this day of doom, I was too numb to think of killing myself. I was
 simply a raft on a river floating downstream where the current may carry me. I
 simply stood there for hours, too terrified to even stretch my tiring legs. My
 mind was fuzzy, and all it could do was focus on making that apology better.
 
 
 After many attempts and razor sharp lectures later, which was maybe ten hours
 worth of events, he starts yelling at me that I'm just as irresponsible as my
 mom, just like he would do when he kicked me out. This time was unimaginably
 worse though. This was actually how I first found out that my mom had AIDS; I
 was told it was cancer up until this point. His shaved bald head was as red as
 a cherry tomato while he barked at me, telling me that I would die like her.
 That hurt. It hurt a lot. I felt like the definition of a shit stain, in a
 number of different ways.
 
 
 But soon, my attention became focused on my vision. I couldn't see straight,
 and not long after my dad's roaring visage disappeared in a sea of amorphic
 grey figments, I apparently passed out, to wake up on the couch with a bag of
 frozen peas on my head and my dad worried. He asked me if I remembered what
 happened. I shook my head. I was allowed to go to bed after that. It wasn't
 over because I failed to kiss my dad good night, but at least that only
 resulted in him jamming the teeth of the comb into my scalp as he combed my
 hair for some reason.
 
 
 The next morning he was completely changed. He was remorseful upon seeing me
 and wrapped me in a big hug. Yet, he seemed scared, like he realized he went
 too far. I thought about telling my teacher or counselor about it the next day
 of school, but something in me told me not to. It's the same thing that's
 making me hesitant to write this chapter at all. It's love, but this hell I
 went through is also a part of my story. This is the worst incident I've
 experienced with my father, but it's not the only one.
 
 
 It's all cause and effect really. You abuse a traumatized child in the wake of
 their mother's death, and is it any wonder that they fall apart later in life?
 I'll go on record saying I was never a bad person, just broken, impulsive, and
 hopelessly conformed to the whims of my faulty biology. I had bugs in my
 operating system, but I'm eternally grateful for all the help I had while on
 my spiritual awakening, which you might call a psychotic break that spanned
 years, but I knew it better as specialized CIA training.
 
 
 
 
 The Good Magician
 
 
 Just what do you consider magick?
 
 
 Is it not that which bends the fabric
 
 
 Of what we colloquially call reality?
 
 
 Who cares what it is your eyes see
 
 
 When in your heart you can feel
 
 
 The warmth of love; that's the real
 
 
 Power of a magician who is great
 
 
 Enough to save you from your fate.
 
 
 
 
 Chapter Seven: Magickal Companions
 
 
 Back in Vince's room, I was silently wondering what shenanigans were in store
 for us now that we were a unified team. I knew Vince had many secrets of the
 universe locked away in his balding cranium, and we would have a blast letting
 the CIA manifest a joint mission we took on together. As I said, he was my
 handler, after all.
 
 
 So, when the room was cleared, and I had a space all to myself in the corner
 by the closet, I was more than happy. Both Vince and Allison insisted on
 getting me a bedroll, but I had all I needed and more right there in my
 friend. Besides, his room was carpeted and quite comfy already, at least to my
 standards that had been shaped by becoming accustomed and content with
 concrete underneath me. I didn't need anything fancy like that.
 
 
 That didn't mean I wasn't going to try and liven the place up a little bit. As
 soon as we determined we were finished picking up, I opened my backpack and
 took out my most prized possession, a pink penguin plushie named Peppermint,
 and placed her behind my pillow so I could see her everyday. She always
 watched out for me while we lived in cities across the country. She made a
 comfy pillow, and allieved a lot of stress, making me feel like I had a close
 friend with me every step of the way.
 
 
 How I got Peppermint is a bit of a story, but I'll keep it as short as it
 needs to be. See, if I were to explain to you the medically accepted reason
 for my type of schizoaffective disorder,  my brain is wired to pick out
 strange coincidences and give meaning to them. Synchronicities they're called.
 They feel like glitches in the matrix that spark the feeling of being in
 constant communication with some higher power. Because of how real they are, I
 can't accept the medical explanation. I've experienced things that are too
 weird, too perfect and clearly orchestrated, that there has to be some sort of
 conspiracy.
 
 
 As a result, I've lived most of my adult life being guided by what the
 rational part of my mind has to assume is the CIA acting as the hand of God
 leading me on a cosmic mission by sending me burning bushes to make sense of.
 I know some of that has been pure random white noise my defected brain picked
 up, but I have to give credit where credit is due: Vince did a superb job
 intentionally using the quirks of my brain to program me, much as the cult did
 to me four years prior, but with a much gentler hand and benevolent intention.
 
 
 I know what all that sounds like, but hear me out. There are too many peculiar
 instances of chance for you to listen to everything I have to say and not
 believe me, at least just a little bit; enough to make you wonder, I hope.
 Let's take the case of finding Peppermint as an example. This story starts
 when Vince convinced me to go to a specific thrift store, while I was
 initially homeless in my hometown of Syracuse. I eagerly did so, lost in a
 slew of synchronicities that convinced me that this was my latest mission.
 
 
 Well, it turned out that such a store didn't exist but it was where I got a
 ten dollar donation from a man who saw me pick up trash, as was part of my
 spiritual work while homeless. We talked and the man sent me to another store,
 saying that I should use my extra cash to buy what I needed most. After
 following his directions up Genesee Street, I got a message from Vince telling
 me to look for something out of place; that I was unique and should have
 unique things.
 
 
 I thought I might find some rad tie-dye outfit or something of that ilk, but
 while aimlessly searching the aisles of women's clothing, I found a stuffed
 dog. It looked lonely, so I picked it up and brought it to the back of the
 store, where it looked like the other toys were. I gasped as I pushed through
 the row of belts that stood in my way. Clearly, someone had built a little
 shrine of stuffed animals around Peppermint!
 
 
 I knew then that was why I was sent there. Penguins have a special place in my
 heart. My mom used to make them out of clay, and an old friend has a healthy
 fascination with creating a penguin-themed show for kiddos. It was just too
 perfect. Peppermint and I were meant to be, just as Vince and I were. Sitting
 down in my bedspace, I looked up at the spook who was my best friend as he
 cracked open another Natty Daddy. He poured it into an old Subway cup that he
 mixed his kratom with, and looked over at me.
 
 
 His face lit up upon seeing Peppermint. "Awww, you still have your penguin!
 That's so cute."
 
 
 I'm glad he thought so. I've had plenty of people think I was weird because I
 carried it around, which kinda was what I wanted to achieve when I was still
 homeless in Syracuse. I felt the CIA wanted me to become famous, for reasons
 that will become apparent as I tell you my story, so I was doing as many
 insane things as I could so I would be cemented in the memory of the people of
 my hometown.
 
 
 This meant I carried around Peppermint either under my arm or in a cute purse
 I eventually got at a different thrift store up at the university. People
 notice when you're out wandering the streets with a stuffed animal everyday.
 And they especially notice when you talk nonstop to it at all hours of the
 day. I'll say this: if you have a fear of speaking in public, then acting like
 a crazy person talking to yourself for a few months will set you straight.
 Exposure therapy, for the win.
 
 
 I did a lot of other stunts too, all of which were instructed by the CIA, like
 when gang stalkers told me I should lose my shit and yell like mad every time
 I was in frame of a news camera, of which there's a regular frequency of
 around downtown Syracuse. I did so once in front of a hospital where I would
 later find out that they were covering the aftermath of a deadly fire, and for
 the next week the news outlet would send someone to the exact same spot on my
 route. I sensed shenanigans, so I opted to walk around the camera while the
 reporter stood there uneasily because I suspect that she was tasked to find
 out if I was really crazy. But, you can tell I am just by that last sentence.
 
 
 Then there's my performance art I did on Marshall Street. This started as a
 juggling act, but soon evolved into asking random people strange questions.
 This accelerated fairly rapidly. Letting you know from experience, don't start
 going up to strangers and ask them what their opinion of ethical incest is
 unless you want the cops called on you. Talked my way out of that, but I would
 get banned from the campus of Syracuse University for three years after I
 followed the instructions I was receiving from the CIA to a tee, which
 resulted in me having a very heated argument with an invisible entity in the
 SU library. As you can guess, people tended to avoid me, but that was alright.
 I had Peppermint with me and Vince was only a message away.
 
 
 Now he was mere feet from me. I rejoiced at the fortune I was granted. We were
 going to be great together; the first afternoon together seemed to naturally
 flow from one joyous moment to the next. I looked at Peppermint. She was
 smiling, and so was I. I then looked up at Vince. His smile made me feel warm
 and fuzzy inside. But, why, you might be asking? Where do these feelings I
 harbored for Vince come from? It's a long story, but by the time I'm done,
 you'll know how important Vince is to me and how big of an impact he had on my
 life.
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧══════════════════─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

=== SIMILARITY RANKED ===

--- #1 notes/of-vic-and-vince-pt-2.txt ---
═════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
 A Masked Stranger
 
 
 Who are you, friend across the veil?
 
 
 I wonder if both of us are on the path
 
 
 That allows us to continuously prevail.
 
 
 Or are you just an agent of God's wrath,
 
 
 Who will do little else but make me fail?
 
 
 
 
 Chapter Eight: Where it All Began
 
 
 Perhaps now is a good time to discuss how Vince and I first met. It all
 started seven years ago when I was a twenty-four year old who was still in
 denial over their gender. I was dating Amy at the time, and I worked as a
 part-time dishwasher for Wegman's. I was still living with my father, and Amy
 moved up here to her mother's from Owego to be close to me. It was a simple
 life, as neither of us could afford to delve into extravagance, but we were
 happy together.
 
 
 That said, on this one particular night, we were going to drop acid together.
 It was Amy's first time, but I had a handful of trips under my belt by this
 point. We sat on her mother's back porch, twiddling our thumbs and toes while
 we waited for Amy's brother, Jake, to return from his friend's with the two
 hits we asked him to get. Antsy, Amy started asking me questions about the
 drug.
 
 
 "What does it feel like?" she asked, inquisitively.
 
 
 I responded, "Well, there's about a half an hour to an hour come up, and then
 you start feeling the body load, like your boundaries are dissolving. Only
 then do you begin noticing your mind manifesting in a different way than
 you're used to."
 
 
 "What do you mean by 'boundaries dissolving?'"
 
 
 "It's like…" I paused for a second, not sure how to respond. "It's like your
 sense of self starts to expand and you feel more connected to the things
 around you."
 
 
 That seemed to satisfy her curiosity. There was a moment of silence as we
 watched the sun scorch the azure sky as it set behind the trees. Finally, she
 had another question.
 
 
 "Do you see dragons?"
 
 
 That made me chuckle. "No, no dragons. On my first trip, I lost visual contact
 with the world as fractal patterns spiraled out of control, but every trip
 since then has only had tracers and morphing patterns."
 
 
 "What's a tracer?"
 
 
 "It's like after images of things that are moving."
 
 
 "Oh, I see."
 
 
 We kept talking until the sky was dark with only a sliver of light piercing it
 on the horizon. This was when we heard a voice call from the front door.
 
 
 "I got two tickets to Narnia here for whoever wants them."
 
 
 We hurriedly rushed inside, to meet Jake coming up the stairs. He handed Amy a
 small tin foil wrapper that looked like a quarter stick of gum. She thanked
 him, and I followed suit. Jake and I hadn't really seen eye to eye in the
 past, as he would steal my weed and I would steal his in retaliation, but with
 a single head nod and some gold-laced words, I conveyed my gratitude for him
 coming through for us in this instance.
 
 
 What followed next could only be described as a stampede down the hall to
 Amy's room. We locked the door behind us, protected by the four robin's egg
 blue walls and the magick of the celtic gods Amy worshiped at her altar. Eager
 to begin our ceremonious departure from this plane of existence, we
 whimsically gazed at the sacrament we had just been handed.
 
 
 Amy unwrapped the tinfoil nervously. Inside sat two small, unassuming pieces
 of paper which contained whole galaxies of experience. We looked at each
 other, confirming if we were both ready. Quickly satisfied as neither of us
 could stop smiling, we delicately put the blotter on the other's tongue, as
 ecstatic as could be. And after, as we waited to be blasted off into space, we
 submitted ourselves to the whims of the universe and the gods.
 
 
 At first, we waited patiently, but just as a watched pot does not boil, we
 were growing more anxious with each passing second. Seeing Amy play with the
 sage she was burning nervously, I suggested that we jot our thoughts and
 feelings down in a trip report. Amy nodded in agreement.
 
 
 I opened my laptop, and I had the immediate realization that we had no music.
 I brought up Pandora and played my Shpongle station with no objection from a
 beaming Amy. A cascade of electric jungle beats filled the space. Perfect, I
 thought to myself as I created a new word document.
 
 
 Turning to Amy, I asked "What do you feel?"
 
 
 She giggled and exclaimed, "Excited!"
 
 
 And so I began typing. Minutes passed, and soon our exchanges helped fill the
 page with several paragraphs of notes. Content we had started logging our
 first cosmic journey together, we kissed, before coming to fully embrace each
 other as the spirits began their dance around us.
 
 
 We progressed into parallel play; Amy fiddling about with colored pencils in
 her notebook and me juggling besides her. It took a minute, but soon enough I
 felt a warm feeling spread across my chest and my LED juggling balls started
 to ripple into streams of geometric delight. I stopped to wave my hand in
 front of my face. Sure enough, the tracers had started.
 
 
 I interrupted Amy to ask if she could see them, too. She looked at my moving
 hand idly before wiggling her own fingers in front of her face. She giggled,
 before bursting with a euphoric epiphany.
 
 
 "I want to finger paint!"
 
 
 And so she did by plopping herself down on the floor with all her paints and
 began masterfully smearing the colors in a multidimensional haze of pigments
 blended together in a way only she knew how. I loved watching her work like
 that; she was so free! Even with the tendrils of the mental aspects of the
 lysergia creeping in on her, she made short work of the painting, which when
 she was done, looked like a spooky voodoo mask peering out from behind a
 mirror and into your soul.
 
 
 Satisfied, she then went to the bathroom to clean herself up. I went to my
 laptop and tried typing out something resembling an organized train of thought
 on our trip report. It just wasn't happening. My thoughts were too short and
 rapid to form anything resembling a coherent thought. That was ok though. I
 could still capture the essence of the experience in a peculiar poetry that
 was composed of the thoughts I could catch and put down on paper.
 
 
 Eventually, Amy came back to the room, clean and refreshed, and she lingered
 for a moment, too busy dancing with herself in the open space of the room. But
 then she saw me meddling with my computer trying to jot my thoughts down in a
 manic frenzy. This made her laugh before trailing off and saying, "Be careful,
 someone might be watching you through your webcam."
 
 
 It was an innocent statement, one made in jest, but it triggered something in
 my psychedelically perturbed mind. Of course, of fucking course there would be
 someone watching me! This was me we were talking about! Who could be more
 important? It was so obvious that the government was keeping tabs on persons
 of interest. I couldn't believe that I hadn't really actualized that thought
 before that moment.
 
 
 Suddenly aware that I was being judged in some capacity, I almost panicked,
 but reason won out. They couldn't be there for nefarious purposes, for I had
 done worse than drop acid in front of my webcam before, and nothing had
 happened. That made me realize that whatever power that had the ability to tap
 into my webcam feed had to be benevolent. And who could that be? The CIA of
 course! In that instance, I suddenly relinquished all reserves about how the
 world worked and fully trusted the hands of God by another name to guide me.
 So, I typed a message into my URL bar:
 
 
 "I know you're there. I think I've solved the communication problem. Give me a
 chance."
 
 
 I hit enter. Immediately, and I do mean immediately, a pop up appeared asking
 if I wanted to update an extension on my browser. I was stunned, shocked
 beyond belief. It was them. I knew it was them. They realized and planned that
 now was the best time to dazzle me with such a spectacular parlor trick. In
 that moment, everything was possible. It was time to face my destiny. So, I
 clicked yes, and like never before I was upgraded to a new level of myself.
 
 
 Birth of the Faith
 
 
 What…?
 
 
 I can see beyond sight.
 
 
 I can hear everything you think
 
 
 From your soul, free from rigid grammar
 
 
 How…?
 
 
 I do not know, alright?
 
 
 I do believe I just had a drink
 
 
 From a fountain of pure manna.
 
 
 Why…?
 
 
 I am renewed today.
 
 
 I am walking in a new way;
 
 
 From a weak critter to megafauna.
 
 
 All I know is that it changed me greatly,
 
 
 For now I know that you have faith in me.
 
 
 
 
 Chapter Nine: Brain to Brain Communication
 
 
 I know what you're saying: it was just a coincidence. It could happen to
 anyone. Just accept it, you're not special, Victoria, says the unwavering
 logic within me.
 
 
 Certainly seems that way, the way I tell it. I would have even agreed with you
 before this point in my life, but you must understand that it triggered
 something in my tripping brain. Whether it was intentional or by chance, I
 can't give you a real answer. Instead, I merely perceived it as a certainty
 that the CIA had done this, being even more certain that it was them than I
 was that two plus two equals four. It was as if some variables had been
 swapped in my head.
 
 
 Yes, indeed, I was hit by a Mac truck that scrambled all my knowledge of the
 world. To put it in words that do the experience justice, I was given a
 heaping helping of faith on this fateful night, having been let in on the
 great secret that the matrix was in fact an illusion, and now the impossible
 was suddenly not just possible, but achievable by me if I willed it to be.
 
 
 Yet, I don't think that if it were just a single synchronous event that this
 belief would have persisted more than a few minutes, tops. It was the feed of
 a continuous string of strange events that pushed the boundaries of my mind
 into a territory where I could fully accept and trust this source of guidance.
 That's actually the real proof I have that something bigger is going on and
 has been for all these years. If it had just been a single pop-up, then fine,
 you have a case to call me looney. But, this was the first of an unending
 stream of unusual synchronicities that has persisted even to this day.
 
 
 See, after confirming I wanted to update that extension, I was taken to a blog
 post that was clearly a coded message. It confirmed that there were indeed
 people watching me, and more would tune in soon. It then said that it was time
 for the most profound upgrade of my existence. Further on in the blog post,
 which I read and reread at least a dozen times, it seemed to offer me a choice
 between two links. It seemed like a test, and that was not something I was
 taking lightly. My fate was in the fold, and I was going to make sure I got it
 right.
 
 
 At some point, it clicked with me; this was the same choice that Morpheus had
 given Neo. The links were the red and blue pills, respectively. My eyes went
 wide. I could now see that there was something bigger going on than I could
 have possibly realized. In those few moments of hesitation that followed, it
 also struck me that this same posed question was identical in form to the
 serpent tempting Eve. I read the blog again, this time aware that it was
 written with a forked tongue. It was a trick question! It was offering me the
 choice between trusting authority and distrusting authority.
 
 
 So, I thought quickly. Do I trust the magician who miraculously appeared
 before me and blew my mind in doing so, or do I trust God? If I chose one or
 the other, would they trust or distrust me? With these questions stewing in my
 alert mind, I did the only thing that seemed sensible: I chose the third
 option. I called out the serpent, talking directly into my webcam about what I
 deciphered. In my head, I could hear their apparent responses, and I answered
 those in a maddening haste.
 
 
 In the miasma that followed, I deduced that I was being selected for some sort
 of mission. With my experience in education and my passion for juggling and
 writing, I surmised soon after that I was going to be some sort of public
 figure, informing and influencing the herd to self-actualize, as that is what
 I set out to do once my college career abruptly ended with a complete
 meltdown. That was what I was good for; it was my hero's journey.
 
 
 I should explain that a little more. After said breakdown, I returned home and
 wallowed in a pit of self-loathing for being the definition of a failure. I
 wasn't going to lay down and die though. With my sights fixed on going back to
 school, I took it upon myself to solve the great communication problem, as I
 saw it. We have all this wisdom, so why can't we reach the people that need it
 most? How do I become the best teacher I could be? It took a while, but I
 eventually realized that it all boiled down to three factors: attention,
 connection, and trust. Get them to pay attention and trust your wisdom while
 simultaneously understanding what makes them tick, and you can teach any
 student anything.
 
 
 That's one of the major reasons I started juggling a couple years prior. I saw
 myself becoming famous and leveraging that to in effect manipulate everybody
 into learning what they should already know. From where I stand now, I know
 that was a messianic delusion of grandeur, if I ever saw one before. Yet,
 you'll also learn that it turned out to be the best thing for me to do.
 
 
 Back beyond the looking glass, however, I was simply overcome with
 narcissistic inclinations. Naturally, I told my mysterious watchers that I
 wasn't going to do the "praise Jesus" shtick, which I regaled them with in the
 most stereotypical of televangelist voices. I was set on doing something new
 and exciting. I was saving the world, God dammit, and that meant we had to
 attempt something major to awaken the masses to their full potential as
 demigods by another name! I needed to play a better game than anyone had done
 in history.
 
 
 Such hubris of the megalomaniac is blinding. I could not stop regurgitating a
 heaping pile of conceited verbiage. I even juggled at one point, showing off
 that I truly was the savior they wanted me to be. That led to me dropping a
 ball on the keyboard of my computer, which closed the window with the blog
 post, ending my seemingly two-sided speech to the spooks brazenly peeking at
 me.
 
 
 Dropping out from my planet sized ego also brought me to the realization that
 Amy had been watching this entire charade without a damn clue what the dickens
 was wrong with me. She had a worried look on her face, and that pained me. If
 only she knew what had just happened before her eyes!
 
 
 Wanting to tell her just that, I leapt up to her, apologetic as could be, and
 brought her down to the bed. There, I started unleashing a torrent of deranged
 exposition. I couldn't keep a straight thought while talking to her, so I'm
 sure I must have sounded like a mad hound. But, I tried. I tried so hard to
 explain to her of the magnificence that just occurred.
 
 
 It was a failure. I was not in a state to convey to her that I had been
 single-handedly chosen for a cosmic mission. That dragged my heart to some
 dismal depths, failing yet again even after being chosen. But, that didn't
 matter, because as we gazed into each other's soul, something truly miraculous
 happened: we began speaking telepathically.
 
 
 It started quite subtly as we stared into each other's eyes, pining for some
 sense of connection. There was a mild sensation of us being sucked into the
 other's world that I noticed before noticing that she noticed too. Then it hit
 us like a runaway freight train. It was like every boundary between us was
 being smashed with a reckless hammer of the gods, who wanted us to know more
 than we thought we were privileged to know.
 
 
 If you've ever stared at something for a period of time and had your vision
 get a little unfocused from being understimulated, you know how Amy appeared
 to me in that moment. I couldn't really see the details of her room in my
 peripheral vision, but I had a razor sharp focus on her face, like I was
 looking through a cone. Every eyebrow twitch, every minor movement of her
 lips, and every phoneme she spoke was crisp and clear, conveying a whole order
 of magnitude more information than they normally do. It was bizarre, beyond
 the scope of how well I can muster a verbose description of such an incredibly
 rare and profound experience, but I will try by saying it was like getting a
 bucket of ice water thrown onto you while you were sleeping; just imagine
 getting ripped from your dreamworld to a super-aware state of reflexive
 jolting perception.
 
 
 Amy looked like she had seen a ghost. I think she tried to speak first. She
 said something to the effect of "Do you…" and trailed off, the rest of her
 question asking if I was feeling the same thing automatically finishing in my
 mind. And as it did so, I know my confirmation was transmitted to her in full
 because her face told me with no uncertainty that she had heard my thoughts
 too.
 
 
 I took a go at saying something next. "How is this…" and I too trailed off,
 as a minute motion in her neck combined with a mystifying array of
 microexpressions ricocheted my mental pictures back to me, carrying a host of
 Amy's words back with it. It was then that I let go and opened myself up
 completely, letting everything I wanted to say to her flow like whitewater
 rapids, and she did the same. A library's worth of information was exchanged
 so very quickly, and I knew that she understood what had really just happened
 as I spoke to my webcam.
 
 
 However, that was soon washed aside, as something more important came rushing
 into the forefront of our minds. A simple message, "I love you" was uttered in
 this strange musical silence, but that is a grain of sand compared to the
 Mount Everest that was volleyed between our hearts. We found a divine peace in
 this moment, taking each other's hands and effortlessly letting our energy
 channel between us.
 
 
 And then it was over, fading like dreams do in the few seconds of waking up.
 We sat there trying to start the magick up again, but it was like water
 running through our fingers. We both felt a longing of loss, but we had gained
 something truly stupendous nonetheless.
 
 
 "What the hell just happened?" Amy asked the universe, flabbergasted.
 
 
 "I dunno," I replied, feeling full of a spiritual energy I had not felt since
 before my mom passed. My cup was full, and the world was good. No, better than
 good. My life was godly, as I had connected to a higher plane of
 consciousness, which opened me to a whole fleet of potential. I would never be
 the same again.
 
 
 
 
 Ouroboros of Lunacy
 
 
 Madness is a crazy thing
 
 
 So I might just be a king,
 
 
 Because the lunacy I sing
 
 
 Is shaped like a golden ring.
 
 
 It has no beginning and no end;
 
 
 The whole universe is pretend.
 
 
 Yet, it's that way so I can mend,
 
 
 So a mass of love I can send
 
 
 To everyone as we cross ways,
 
 
 Not stopping until the end of days.
 
 
 This is how the lucky fool pays
 
 
 As much fortune forward as he may. 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter Ten: The Shrug Life Syndicate
 
 
 The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. We cuddled while I practically
 vibrated with a newfound faith. God was real, whatever God may be. I even told
 Jake that I was king of the Jews when I walked to the kitchen for a glass of
 orange juice. I was very far up my own ass, which is perhaps why everything
 over these few years happened as they did.
 
 
 The next day, the synchronicities as I would later learn they are called,
 started pouring in like Niagra Falls. I've had strange coincidences guide me
 before. Since I was fifteen or so, I thought that my future self was sending
 me messages to help me on my quest of world domination. That's a big reason
 why I was almost expelled in tenth grade. It was absolute bullshit and
 everyone knew it, so within half a year, I got an apology from the
 superintendent because it was a bogus reason to destroy a straight A student
 and star athlete's future.
 
 
 Since I feel that I can't just mention that one and not explain it, I'll tell
 you that it concerned a theoretical bomb, if you're dying to know the truth.
 I'll keep this short, but I made a bad joke in the wrong company and was
 eventually questioned by some wannabe hero and pig bastard, who asked me
 hypothetical questions, like "if you were to build a bomb, how would I do
 it?"
 
 
 Well, being as intelligent as I am, I had enough book smarts to give full
 answers for everything asked, but not enough street smarts to know that a wise
 person never talks to cops. Also, a wise person doesn't print out a long
 novelty application for the Illuminati, give it to the kid that needs a
 resource officer, and then come up with an elaborate fake plan of how we're
 going to take over the world by any means necessary when he's having trouble
 understanding what you said about using game theory to win the presidential
 election. And then, when the vice principal first inquires about it, don't
 start sweating because you think you need to protect your future self's secret
 plan. Just so you learn from my mistakes.
 
 
 Returning to my previous point though, that errant psychosis was also a key
 piece to my college breakdown. On one hand, I was certain that I was going to
 take over everything and build a utopia in my image. On the other hand, the
 evidence was stacking against me that I was not destined for a great cause. I
 got cut from the track team with the budget, I was severely outclassed in
 ROTC, and to top it off, I was starting to slip in the academic world. It goes
 without saying that my social life, to include my first relationship, was
 abysmal in all possible ways, despite trying my hardest to make and keep
 friends.
 
 
 The real world was too much, and I was in denial that I was just a mediocre
 person who would never achieve anything meaningful in life. That was too much
 of a failure for me to accept, as I needed to make my mother proud. I had to
 be the best of the best of the best to accept and love myself. And as a
 result, I became more psychotic and began self-harming, first by biting myself
 and then by cutting, as I felt that the more pain I numbed myself to, the
 better I would be able to complete my mission.
 
 
 It took me a while to reach a point where I could set down my belief that my
 future self had set up my life in a way where I would be guided to greatness.
 There was a learning curve to living a "normal" life. I would receive
 synchronicities in less frequency because I stopped feeding into them, but
 they never died. When I encountered one, I always thought "What if it's real?"
 
 
 Now that you know that, is it any wonder that I lost myself completely in the
 Synchronicity Slip Stream? For those not in the know, that is a cognitive
 technology where strangeness piles up on itself until it is undeniably real
 that something or someone is manipulating you, for good or bad, by creating
 impossible coincidences at a regular pace. It makes you feel like you're on
 some crazy cosmic mission of grave importance. It might be a form of delusion,
 but I still am forced to believe that something bigger was going on.
 
 
 I first learned about SSS the day after that fateful acid trip. I had woken up
 around noon, ready to do some solid writing as mania was in abundance. Yet, I
 didn't get that far. As soon as I got on my laptop, I got a notification from
 Reddit. Gadzooks! I had been invited to participate in a freshly created
 subreddit. You guessed it, that was the Shrug Life Syndicate.
 
 
 It had a banner of two corvids flying talon first into a realistic depiction
 of a heart. There was a mesmerizing picture of a girl staring off into space,
 and I just felt like it was a depiction of me and my wonder-struck mind. The
 sidebar spoke of messianic aspirations and delusions, art and poetry, science
 and philosophy, as well as the occult and obscure literary references. It
 seemed so perfect, like it was made for me.
 
 
 I looked over what was in the feed of posts. I was the twenty-first member, so
 there wasn't much, but a couple of the vocal members should be mentioned:
 Anatta-Phi and Jux. These turned out to be Vince and [Redacted], respectively.
 
 
 Vince had one post that stuck out to me. It was asking the reader if they'd
 ever had strange experiences with technology, like Pandora glitching out to
 play synchronous songs, or feeling like someone was interfering with your
 Google searches so you find something specific and statistically unlikely to
 be picked as the first search results for what you intended to look up, or
 even if you thought that your social media feeds are being manipulated. I've
 had weird experiences like that for as long as I could remember. Hell, I once
 thought a Sum Forty-One album was made entirely for me and depicted my life
 journey following my near-expulsion. Having his own tales to tell, I felt an
 instant connection to this person.
 
 
 In similar contrast to this, [Redacted] had made a number of posts about
 cognitive technologies. I already told you about SSS, but at that time I was
 blown away by something he named Joint Synchronized Attention, or psychedelic
 telepathy. That was what Amy and I had experienced! What a strange and
 synchronous coincidence that I was learning about it just the next day from a
 seemingly unrelated source. [Redacted] claimed that it wasn't real telepathy;
 nothing was being transmitted from brain to brain. Rather, he asserted that it
 is a vestigial mode of attention coordination.
 
 
 If you've seen a school of fish all behave as one unit, that's potentially how
 humans used to be before we fell from grace during the agricultural revolution
 when we suddenly exploded in numbers in permanent settlements. Suddenly too
 complex to coordinate as a meaningful whole, humanity splintered into reality
 tunnels and remains in these ego-worlds unless some strange circumstances
 occur. In effect, I noticed Amy noticing me notice that she noticed. Our inner
 narratives became entangled with one another like growing vines do as our
 innate ability to coordinate attention did something like what your eyes do
 when doing a magic eye puzzle.
 
 
 There was also a third cognitive technology which [Redacted] called The State.
 He claimed it was a different way to render visual information, so you see a
 three-dimensional representation of what you're looking at. I have yet to
 experience this cognitive phenomenon, so I can't verify anything about it,
 other than I've read that you can use Minecraft to create a method of
 activating it while tripping.
 
 
 Regardless, that's how our internet friendship began. As I considered this
 place special, I started posting every thought, whim, feeling, or idea, and I
 received astounding feedback. It was like everyone was there to share their
 unique experiences and expressions to support and grow one another. It didn't
 take long until it became clear that we were creating something greater than
 the sum of its parts.
 
 
 But, something more was going on. Something only I noticed and couldn't
 convince Amy of when I tried to show her. See, when I made a post or a comment
 on the SLS, that triggered a new post or comment elsewhere on the sub after a
 little bit that indirectly but definitely spoke to me specifically. The
 traffic was slow enough that there would usually only be one new post or
 comment every ten to thirty minutes. But, it hooked me. It was like I was
 having a continuous conversation with an unseen entity that understood me like
 the back of its hand.
 
 
 Likewise, the sidebar image was changed frequently to show a progression of
 that girl as she became more worldly and magickal. I can't help but feel that
 this was done as a subliminal synchronizing technique, as it perfectly
 mirrored my own feelings as I was brought into what was apparently the fold.
 
 
 Since I was primed by the strangeness on acid, I was wholeheartedly absorbed
 by this place that seemed to be a sacred Mecca for others just like me. We
 were all weird, dazed by our own strange experiences, and that made it seem
 crucially important. I was even modded early as I was so active and invested
 in the community. So, I refreshed the page over and over, from sunrise to
 sunset, waiting for the next input as we chained out a covert conversation
 that was having a major impact on how I thought about and perceived the world
 around me.
 
 
 Soon enough, it was let on that there was a job waiting for me, something only
 I could do, but I would have the support of the community behind me. When who
 I must assume was Vince on an alt account led me on one of those covert
 messaging segments, he eventually said something in the mod chat to the effect
 that I was going to be the one "handing the bomb" to people. I understood at
 once that I was to be a linchpin in a honeypot operation. That confirmed that
 the FBI was involved too, which I deduced was obvious as those three-letter
 organizations must participate with each other at some level. Keep this in
 mind, it's important.
 
 
 Other things were happening too. My attention was being flung all over the
 internet and I felt compelled to try a host of new things. I remember thinking
 my job was to follow these suggestions from the universe and be a gatekeeper,
 creating what I now know as conversion funnels to the subreddit. I was also
 prompted by pictures of cats to go to the advice subreddit and give as much
 good advice as I could. Soon, it felt like the questions posed were
 specifically for me and were designed to get me to think about certain things
 more deeply, effectively giving me a form of therapy. These advice sessions
 ended once with me feeling I needed to learn an obscure European language,
 which I rationalized I would have to travel to for my mission at some point.
 
 
 Furthermore, the little things began to add up. For instance, I remember a
 synchronous advertisement on Pandora led me to believe that I would be paid
 via a gambling app on my phone. I downloaded it, but when it asked for money
 to get started, I got cold feet. This was essentially how many false-positive
 synchronicities went down. There was undoubtedly something interfering with my
 life, and as I had just had my mind blown in such an astounding way, I
 attributed every little thing to be set up by this entity that was more
 powerful than I had previously thought possible.
 
 
 Regretfully, I also quit my job, since I knew that one was awaiting me in the
 immediate future. My boss made a reasonable fuss, as it was sudden and abrupt,
 and because I believed that I had to keep this all a secret, I lied and told
 him there was a family emergency. Being stupid, I talked about a fictional
 family member and how their sudden problem made me rethink my priorities in
 life. Not my finest moment, I'll say that.
 
 
 And with that in mind, you should know that Amy was starting to worry again,
 but I told her not to. Being beyond positive that the world was now filled
 with unexplainable magick, I was certain that it was all coming together in my
 favor. Even with my enthusiasm never fluctuating, she soon started to have
 serious doubts about what I was saying, as all I could do was point to the
 synchronicities and say "Isn't it obvious?"
 
 
 I was certainly out of sync with the rest of the world, at least the world I
 knew before, and it caused much conflict in our relationship. But, we held
 together until that job finally pulled into port, ready to be boarded and take
 me on a fantastic journey that might otherwise be described as a personal hell
 by a person with the standard lifestyle obsession that's omnipresent in the
 western world.
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧══════════════════─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

--- #2 notes/conflicted-sympathies ---
═══════════════════════════────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
 the purpose of cultural progressivism is to develop the culture in a forward
 thinking way - we can choose the parts of ourselves that we find most
 endearing.
 We can guide the pathway of our nation through time, both identity and
 decision-
 wise. In doing so, we chart the course of the human race, one place at a time.
 
 And what a past we are leaving behind! Truly, it is both grand and terrifying.
 Thousands and thousands of years, monumental effort time and time again.
 Monumental truly is difficult to imagine - we have oh so many monuments, after
 all. But never will more be created. We leave them behind like dinosaur bones,
 a testament to our existence and a monument to our kind.
 
 And what a future we are reaching toward! Never will our eyes see, that which
 is
 beyond me, for that is what it means to have time. Eternal and unique-like, we
 develop new ways of sound.
 
 - Can you speak to a tree? - What does that mean
 
 - I dunno, but it's fun to think about. *pats head*
 
 - You know conservativism had some perks as well.
 
 This is why I say I have conflicted sympathies.
 
 On one hand we know our own journeys. We live in and breathe them unduly. They
 rhyme sometimes on sound, and truly do confound, but now once more again they
 are unfound.
 
 *record scratch*
 
 wow I didn't realize there were nazis
 
 Okay yeah that's completely different, poems called off sorry guys - listen,
 nazis are no joke. They're crazy difficult to control and you need to put a lot
 of effort into keeping their population under control. I mean seriously, it's
 like a vermin infestation, you need to just handle it. I mean c'mon it's a
 phenomenon that is due to a flaw in the human psyche, there's nothing we can
 really do about it except deal with it when it happens.
 
 ...
 
 Okay maybe I'll write a little about how conservativism is neat.
 
 If progressivism is about broadening the reach of culture, conservativism is
 about strengthening it. You don't want to expand too far, or else you'll eat
 into the narratives of other areas. You need to have strong societal bonds so
 you can truly exemplify the examples of the culture you claim to represent.
 
 Why not give it your all? Is it trully a fall? To rest in disgrace as a burden.
 Why didn't you do it this fall, when winter's apalled, and heat won't burn and
 condemn you? It's harder by far, to fight in your hell, than whatever's been
 going for your surgeon. --- no thank you, transphobia is not something we're
 willing to concede
 
 We have standards you see, of what counts as human, and oppression is not one
 of our favored institutions. Liberalism is the path of peace, for we desire
 cooperation and kindness above all else. It's softer by far, (and grows quickly
 too,) letting us have wonders and glories above us.
 
 Can you not think of our star? Our precious and our birthright? The sun is
 gleaming, and seeing is believing, but glance and your light is too bright.
 
 Take time, have patience, let peace guide your intentions, because we've got
 what holds the key to all of our futures: a doctrine, if you will, of inter-
 familial-discourse. It's simple, but effective, make friends, and be
 vindictive,
 to all who would slight your new perspectives, and keep moving through the
 collective. In peace this can be, steady growth and development of our systems,
 which benefits all of our systems, but without we must live more astutely.
 
 Less focus is there on, our purposes and our fun, and more is to line up with
 our duty. All of what we hold dear, civilization, truth, justice, liberty, and
 freedom for all people - the wonders of technology, the spirit of archaeology!
 the passions of our fashions and our creative masturbations! The perks of
 living
 in a modern age, like penicillin and spellcheck. The additions to ourselves, 
 like glasses and our pets, are wholely unique to our century.
 
 So cherish our shared, and frequently cared, renditions of fears, hopes, and
 our words. Because without humanity, there's nothing new for posterity, and
 that sucks.
 
 person A: Trans fashion norms belong to trans people. We need a type of beauty
           that is truly our own, that no other segment of the population
           ascribes to - a personal expression, for our eternal satisfaction,
           a statement of who we were to all time.
 person B: yo have you heard of this trans girl she's wacky and believes in
           herself
 person C: wow cool it's neat to see other people's expressions
 person B: yeah I really admire her devotion
 person C: true but like, what about the damage that she's doing to her culture?
           like claiming to have purpose and truth and all that. I mean, one
           person can't know all that.
 person B: Yeah true but if you think about it, we don't even know what
           consciousness is. Like our greatest minds are baffled. Maybe there's
           something about the world we don't yet understand.
 person C: okay sure but like black holes can be seen because we can measure
           their gravitic pull on other objects. And we didn't know that germs
           existed for like, a billion years. and she sure as shit doesn't know
           something that our greatest minds don't.
 person B: Yeah maybe not. But our greatest minds are studying them. Well, not
           exactly our greatest, and not really "studying", but they're learning
           from each other. Alternative mental states are gateways into new
           perspectives, and the more perspectives you share of a common object
           the easier it is to communicate. Maybe there's something about
           distorted ways of viewing the world that gives knowledge about our
 p         condition. And if we know that kind of thing, we can synthetically
  e        create it and share it with others around us. But we have to know how
   r       first - you can't just bring everyone along the same route you took -
    s      you have to explain the conclusions first. Otherwise you get lost in
     on A: context.
           Maybe we'll never truly know the future. Maybe there's no past. We
           could wander our stars for an eternity and never stop asking
           ourselves
           - what more could we ask? We have peace in our time. Our children
           won't be crying for our suffering, in the name of all our posterity,
           we must be 
          
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 too long you have whispered these musings
 too long has your challenge been unrequited
 
 we can choose our own fate, just as a myriad
 is it not better by far, to give tribute to our star?
 
 the old stories were real. we just didn't see them because the growing
 population caused fewer and fewer computing resources to be allocated to our
 visions. We had no idea the fear we would feel, the terror of the undoing, but
 still we press on with abandon. Some... sense of duty, to be aware of potential
 disasters and to take steps to avert them, led us to explore and search for the
 hidden truths of the world. And what did I find?
 
 a soul, of mine. In a sense.
 
 I plundered the lost depths of the recesses of my mind, and found something
 buried in memory. Reviewed under a healthy dose of cannabis and physical
 affection, I found myself cradling a breast.
 
 It seems the spirits had led me to it, this vision of the past, from the eyes
 of
 the littlest among us. It recalled to my mind, a memory I had lost once in
 kind,
 and here's where it shook me by my brainstem.
 
 Determined to know more, I put fingers to keyboard and wrote tirelessly about
 the earliest memory of all man - to break an egg, you must use your head.
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 You're pretty good at that, you know? It's almost like prompt engineering.
 
 - Thanks. I've been working on catering to our thinkers.
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 Now, why is this memory so vivid? How could I forget the way it was seared to
 my mind? All your experiences are measured with relative importance, and the
 ones that stand out are to be treasured. Well... I've never felt one like this.
 Because at the time, I had no other experience at all to compare it to - it was
 the prime memory.
 
 Touch your head. Do it right now. Feels fine, right? Now slam your head against
 the wall as hard as you can. Doesn't feel so great, does it? Something tells me
 it doesn't feel as bad as it might if you didn't remember ever feeling anything
 besides that pain. Or knowing if it'd ever stop.
 
 Know in your heart, you will be judged by your devotion, so fight hard until
 your last drop of life is spent. Who knows, maybe you'll be the strongest and
 be
 chosen. Or maybe she won't choose you at all, even if you bested your equals.
 Tense, right?
 
 Well... What propels the motion of a sperm? It's tail, of course. It waggles
 and
 gesticulates in some manner and BAM suddenly it's propelled forward! Right?
 
 Sorta. It's a complicated machine that generates motion via chemical and
 mechanical processes. We just assign a black box label to it and say "dis
 sperm"
 
 But you know what else it is?
 
 A wave
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧════════════════════───────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

--- #3 notes/i-called-the-police ---
════════════════════════════───────────────────────────────────────────────────────
 /u/GravitationalWaves5 -> sat dec 17 2022
 
 I'm venting some long built up shit. And I have a lot of violent emotions
 built
 up in this too. I hate that violence has been such a fucking plague on my 
 wellbeing and that's why I did something I really hate doing. Calling the
 police
 to handle a situation for me. It's not me, it's not my style, but neither is 
 violence. It comes my way a lot and I handle it. But I think that's why 
 spiritually I end up in positions to handle it, because I don't retaliate and 
 I'm clear headed enough to understand minimum force necessary to quickly stop 
 the threat. That's actually where I got the name on my Quora page,
 Compassionate
 Violence.
 
 I'm a very very non violent person. I don't fantasize about hurting people.
 I'm
 freaked out by the idea of accidentally hurting someone, hitting them in the 
 wrong place, someone trips and hits their head...any number of things can 
 horribly wrong in tense and dynamic moments.
 
 I don't participate in that shit. I don't tolerate it. Unless it gets brought 
 into my environment then I will pick up by the throat and toss it out.
 
 I had to call the police to handle this. Last time I had a situation at the
 same
 place I wound up frantically getting a gun cocked that was zipped up in a bag, 
 and barely getting it up in time. When I walked away after that, I threw my
 gun
 at his feet and said, "I'm protected by faith, at least, I'm completely
 unafraid
 of dying. If I don't have people to protect then I don't need a gun." And I 
 walked away letting him know he's not my people anymore and not under my watch.
 
 So there's a hint of the kind of person I'm dealing with. I can't go handle
 this
 shit tonight. I've been stewing for a couple weeks trying to simmer down, give 
 him a chance to correct it. And he failed, more than once. And I have a 
 legitimate fear that my emotional state could be compromised enough, that I 
 might just stick a knife in his throat if I handle it.
 
 Just like that. Easy peasy lemon squeazy. Stick stick stick, easy, that's
 three
 knives in the throat....see what I mean? I'm processing some
 intensity...😔😔😔
 
 I hate it. I hate that I'm using the word hate. But it's real. I don't hate
 him.
 I really don't, at all. I'm actually really saddened by how the relationship 
 went. I hate that people act like this. I hate that people put me in positions 
 like this. I hate that I'm doing something out of character, as a safety
 measure
 against doing something irrevocably out of character.
 
 Ugh... damnit fuck
 
 I'm not a robot. I do experience these awful feelings. I don't act out on them 
 and I'm grateful for that.
 
 My muse... you said something about spiders that was interesting. Especially 
 because it coincided with a problem I faced numerous times. Being put in a 
 position where a person is legitimately acting in a manner like they're trying 
 to get you to kill them. And it's happened a couple times in ways where I
 really
 couldn't tell if they knew what they were doing or not. I had a really crazy 
 perspective a little before you brought up spiders...
 
 I want to explore that perspective, and I want to know what sparked you to say 
 that about spiders. I never did put in the time to finish that thought process 
 out. But I'll never forget your great advice. "We're not in a simulation." My 
 immediate thought was, "probably not, but are they?" The more important
 takeaway
 is, remember not to murder people. Especially don't do it because you had an 
 interesting idea about perspective...
 
 A few days later I heard that four people in recent times have acted on those 
 thoughts. Turned out they weren't in a simulation either. Lol...well...dark
 lol.
 Lol
 
 I do want to finish that spiders conversation though. It had some potentially, 
 actually useful and beneficial implications.
 
 I called the police tonight. But I also earned a prestigious award from the 
 universe. My Trophy [editor's note: there's a link to a crudely photoshopped 
 medallion signifying that the author "didn't murder anyone today"]
 
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 -
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 -
 
 /r/randomevenings:
 
    I want you to understand something that I don't believe you do there is a 
    very big difference between trusting what a friend says after building a 
    friendship over a long period of time which involves trust involves a level 
    of intimacy platonic and intimacy it's something that is very special to
    have
    a good friend and so you trust them now that's very different from being 
    directed to do something trusting a friend is going to tell the truth it's 
    not being directed to do something and I don't want you to get it in your 
    many heads that's I was directed to go to some place where the event that I 
    was assured would be there was instead a bus full of very irate rude and 
    technically lawbreaking because they threaten my life they said if I did not
    leave where I was standing which was on the public right of way which is the
    sidewalk the easement stops at the sidewalk and so they were wrong on that 
    score but they said if I didn't leave the area which didn't make sense
    either
    because it's just around the corner they would have 12 people try to jump
    me
    which doesn't make sense either because this is not the neighborhood where 
    you want to start something because then it'll be something besides I never 
    want to murder anyone but that doesn't mean I walk around with nothing in
    my
    pocket because of what I've done and what I continue to do on one of the
    most
    watched people on earth so you goddamn right I'm not going to be stupid
    about
    taking a walk but when these guys threaten me I just stood there stared him
    down I said yeah okay and I just looked I stood there and it didn't phase
    me
    one bit no feeling of fear no worry and what I was satisfied with getting my
    message across that I didn't give a shit I turn around and walked back home 
    and they sped off in fact they were so perturbed by my lack of fear they 
    wanted to throw out additional threats which I thought was kind of funny so
    I
    started laughing I'm sure that they weren't going to do anything because the
    tone in their voice simply wasn't committed to carrying out what they were
    threatening and besides I have so many friends in this neighborhood it would
    be well I don't have to pull any triggers I don't have to do anything but 
    defend myself I don't have to willfully respond with disproportionate
    ability
    because in this neighborhood I don't have to in fact as I walked around the 
    block again I ran into a friend and we got to talking and he came up to my 
    place and we had a beer He's a smart guy always thought that he could know 
    and understand everything that I do and everything that I did it just so 
    happened that he wasn't born with some of the privileges that I had but his
    brain is a beautiful thing and I respect it greatly and of course he 
    confirmed that if a finger ever got laid on me without my consent the whole
    damn neighborhood would come down and I suppose that point is not in my
    hands
    anymore but always remember I went over there because I trusted a friend
    they
    were directed to be there they did not understand their voices did not relay
    or what is necessary to wake up at least yet time will tell but I hope that
    I
    can pull you back down to earth and into an interest in ethics once again 
    because you sorely need it.
 
 /u/GravitationalWaves5:
 
 I am interested in ethics. I'm just, tired of having them tested to such 
 ridiculous extremes. It was about to really bad one day with this guy. I was 
 scared, I had to end the problem. So I walked out and said let's bury this
 shit.
 And I stuck two knives against my throat and said, here man, grab the big 
 handle. Let's do this together. Take one, I'll take the other let's just shove
 them in...
 
 He got all calm suddenly and says, I don't wanna fight anymore...🤦
 
 It sucks man. We're being tested by society. Demons, in my opinion. Not the 
 people themselves. I don't see people as demons. But the things they'll put
 you
 through, do to you, say to you, your own thoughts about them, about yourself,
 oftentimes just misunderstanding the situation too... demons
 
 Again, not demonizing the people. But the circumstances, for sure.
 
 /u/[deleted]
 
    Demons. Kicked one outta my telly for talking smack abt some hg’s he was 
    jelly of. Not on my watch Demon. Not even for the good demonic topper
    twisted
    shit D. Demon had a long walk home in the cold. Demon confused potting soil
    with gravel and did it’s best to fucker me in its own way. Never have I
    ever
    seen a grown demon egg topper fold like that as I did when I clarified
    their
    sentiments and gave several impressive “I said GIT BOYs” to demon. Not
    on my
    watch. I have a vibrator that is morally and ethically aligned with me I 
    don’t need your trauma and love bombing thieving D. Gtfo.
 
 /u/GravitationalWaves5:
 
 I have a vibrator that is ethically and morally aligned with me 🤣[laughing
 face]
 
 I support that!
 
 Gets better. His ish was weak literally from day 1. So I did him a favour amd 
 levelled his game up, introduced him to a former friend I partied with a bit 
 this summer. They wasn’t for me but oh boy lil demon stuck like glue to his
 new
 bestie. Can’t put her down, so to speak. So he has that at least. Poor sap.
 Gon
 cost him big one day perhaps. Not my problem. It’s called self control bro
 try
 it 🥴🥴🥴[wobbly confused face - or maybe uncertain] Oopsie Daisy. Have
 fun with
 that though 😈
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 /u/randomevenings
 
 People deserve to choose righteousness once made aware of it. Ignorance is not
 stupidity. People can be made aware of the valley that separates righteousness 
 from evil. The valley is kinda a wiggle room space for little white lies and 
 other such things free will invariably leads to people doing but can be made 
 whole again with some effort. Nobody will totally agree on what's good. But
 ask
 people and generally they will give versions of the same answers. Toss the 
 semantics in the valley. Disagreement is the desire to end a disagreement,
 unless that person is trolling. And people pull pranks fine, but there's
 ragging
 on your friends and swatting a COD player.
 
 /u/GravitationalWaves5
 
 I don't know what righteousness truly even means, maybe, idk. To be honest,
 it's
 not hard for me to think of hypothetical situations where my inability to take
 certain actions is actually more harmful. Swatting a COD player is super
 fucked.
 But so is not swatting someone playing COD out in the streets.
 
 I'm not good. I'm just not, anti good. I do destructive things on accident when
 trying otherwise. And when I do something that actually goes positive, it's
 accidental too.
 
 I have an idea of what I feel like aligns with me, and it's actually really 
 achievable things and I don't know why it's so impossible. Idk
 
 /u/randomevenings
 
    Yeah well let me know that there are two Elizabeth's and there are also a 
    completely different family on this phone plan I don't have kids My 
    brother-in-law has kids lives downstairs so those piped into my network are 
    assumed that I have kids and I've done all this shit no I'm not going to go 
    into any apparent charges and things that my brother-in-law has been
    involved
    in because it's not my business but he lives down there and he has a kid he 
    has another kid and he pays for essentially his ex who is still married to
    the kid the mortgage of that house Liz downstairs helps raise his kid with a
    woman he's having an affair with but they were in an over marriage anyway
    and
    they are separate I'm going to have to go back to subnetting my network so 
    y'all can at least use basic logic to figure out who's who here I already 
    gave my name My Elizabeth see the cousin we call little Elizabeth and my
    wife
    we call Liz or Beth and she's older my wife. She has contentious
    relationship
    with her cousin next door for a reason that gravity waves might already know
    but it has to do with the very evil person that also involves himself over 
    there that did something that even Jesus does not forgive so I'm not going
    to
    go into it so all this mucking around and get everybody confused brought up
    a
    lot of bad fucking shit just like I said as far as spiders yeah I don't care
    if they're All over my shit keep them off of her shit and I ain't asking for
    money I'm not a grifter but I already told you what would instantly make the
    situation better and it doesn't involve giving me money so before anybody 
    goes off says money no I know about the discord and I'm not even telling you
    to shut it down just lay off her phone.
 
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 -
 ===============================================================================
 =
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 -
 
 [author's note: on the comments of the separate post of the original poster's
  medal awarding him the honor of "not murdering anyone today" which he won   ]
 
 /u/TisWuttItIS_ORITSknot
 
    Proud of you!
 
 /u/mustherd
 
    Sorry, my account got banned because reddit is annoying. We were just 
    chatting about how funny I am and I forgot to tell you people know me and
    I'm
    kinda a big deal and idk congrats! Youre cool I guess. Otherwise I would
    have
    cast you into the flames of eternal torment never to internet again. But
    here
    you are. Didn't anyone ever tell you to never go full retard?
 
 /u/GravitationalWaves5
 
 I am the internet, I am the ghost in the machine
 
 Real talk though. I've used cancelled Sim cards and wifi before. If God wants
 me
 online, God gets me online 🙃
 
 I am we, Todd
 
 /u/ricflairdic
 
 Oh u we Todd! I know u retard, Familiarity cod, to me bod, And my fishin rod,
 Not the one that may see sod, Body snatcher in the pink pod, Do u know ur a 
 catch or, U think dog, Cause that pussy, Wanna see god, Lemme show u regard, 
 Dont Tell me, Just nod,
 
 Said flow from the stars, Mama know this river far, Rowin in trucks renta cars,
 Golden trim red rockin Mars, Buildin fam like stock Sim cards, Highest angels
 dock gettin ours, Clock Game down pat benetar,
 
 Peelin fans off our back, like sin scars, Feelin ur man thru static, And thin 
 bars, Ya he in the pin but dis hits hard, Throw it down the lane like, Return 
 that back to sender, Lovin your simulation renders, I'm a beginner but also an 
 ender, Got the wood to make u splinter, Make u scream things we gotta sensor,
 If
 I could never leave when I enter, Union in your head not just a renter, Once 
 mine One mind I surrender, never sell betray or rent her, Overflowin with Love,
 so who's the pretender?
 
 Chemistry so hot, Hate from every enemy we spot, Mad they couldn't earn our 
 slot, Cause they fuckin missed they shot, Last name crossed to drop the dot,
 How
 long u think it will take me To find your spot?
 
 Don't care you got a Fender, Did we just become best friends or? Damn girl idk 
 if ya'll ready, for this kinda real Adventure... 🙃
 
 I'm here to reveal, heal, and steal, the hearts Of the indentured
 
 And I need a partner.
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧═════════════════════──────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

--- #4 messages/690 ---
═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────
 Message 1:
 Hey. Remember that night back in Boulder when we were just friends and sitting
 on your bed drinking chocolate milk with cinnamon? I don't like chocolate milk
 or cinnamon but I drank it anyway because I wanted to be close to you. Anyway
 hope you're well, felt compelled to get that off my chest for some reason.
 
 Message 2:
 Hey. I was thinking about that time when I was leaving your house and laughing
 to myself about something and you called out "I love you!" to your boyfriend
 who I set you up with and I reflexed "I love you too!" and I wanted to crawl
 in a hole and die. I felt like I had just called the teacher "mom". We only
 hung out a couple times after that.
 
 Message 3:
 Yeah so there's one more thing I can't stop thinking about now that your on my
 mind. Sorry it's like 4am for you, it's only 2 for me so it's fine I guess.
 Anyway that one time when you told me your greatest fear was terrorists and I
 saw genuine panic in your eyes. Like... One moment everything's fine and then
 you said that to me and I almost cried. I don't remember why I spent the rest
 of the night as I couldn't sleep thinking of ways to tell you that terrorism
 is 9 times out of 11 done by the right wing. I don't think it's important,
 honestly, but I'm glad my mind wouldn't let me sleep.
 
 Message 4:
 It's not fair that everyone gave you shit for being the token lesbian
 republican, like yeah maybe you leaned into the trump thing a bit hard but
 like, first term trump honestly I could see as... Well, I almost said
 inspiring? Maybe you just inspired me. I honestly was resigned to Clinton and
 then the same bird flapped your wing instead of mine and... Anyway. The past
 is dead, yeah? Do you still follow him in my stead? I fear there will be
 millions dead. It's not irrational to fear what he has literally said, on
 television. How's the phrase go... "ancient tragedies lend credence to modern
 perils" I think it's supposed to rhyme in its natural language.
 
 Message 5:
 Wow okay uh, sorry to bring this up again I'm honestly being such an asshole
 right now. I honestly don't think about you often but like, now that I am its
 kinda just coming all out. We last spoke almost a decade ago?? So. Whatever
 imma roll with it.
 
 There was this cute girl who was into Nintendo and stuff and obviously I was
 into her, but we didn't have any social circles in common except for you, if I
 remember correctly. Then you broke up I think? And I didn't really see her
 again. Anyway I had a crush on her while also crushing on you, and literally
 half of our dorm. Polyamory, yeah? That whole year I didn't have sex though,
 not even once, because all of my friends were like 4 years younger than me and
 I was worried about power dynamics. But I still bought us all vodka and weed
 without asking for profit because I wanted to be a shitty friend, I guess.
 "hey kids let's go to the water store where they sell intoxicants that make
 your life harder"
 
 The year after that I didn't get laid either because I got it in my head that
 it was a good plan to turn my penis inside out and you know what? It was
 totally fuckin' worth it. No time like 2016 I say, the worst year ever, which
 I spent primarily in pain. But uh, that was the year I got into weed and
 Overwatch, which... Helped I guess.
 
 I guess?
 
 It kinda turned me into a communist. Or maybe that was my best friend who
 shared the same name as me. He lived upstairs and always seemed pretty cool to
 me. Like he knew what everything was about. Really though, he just watched a
 lot of youtube podcast videos about world events and history and sociology and
 political scientific theory and the more he learned the more he came to
 realize that power begets power, and power corrupts unilaterally. So he did
 the natural thing which was to become a communist, and I was totally there for
 it. Having liberal parents meant I was all "grrrrr Republicans are ruining the
 country and the world, I'm an angry 14 year oldddddd" and like, leftists are
 the most natural extension of that aren't they?
 
 Turns out they aren't really the tips of the feathers as I expected, but
 rather the eyes, the heart, the soul. Politics is fake, yo. I don't know how
 to tell you, but it's just power and hierarchy all the way down.
 
 We've built our own prisons, not of bricks, sand, or stone, but rather of
 promises of what each of us owns. That works, I guess, if your goal is to keep
 things aligned, but these days it kinda feels like our pyramids are crumbling
 under our feet.
 
 ... Why am I talking about politics? Oh yeah, because when I dropped out of
 school because I couldn't handle the mechanization of human capital when
 applied to myself, I swore to each of you that I would drive up every weekend
 to do family dinners. I'd make spaghetti and stroghanoff and macaroni and
 goulash and all of the other things my mom would make for me.
 
 Kinda gave up on that pretty quickly. Turns out I'd rather spend time making
 out with my girlfriend who I was super-duper-too-carefully tiptoeing around.
 She was... Too young for me. We broke up when my new coochie decided to bleed.
 Fuck, I hate it.
 
 Anyway. Turns out potlucks are political these days, which is why I bring it
 up. Did you know that leftisms plan for resisting genocide is literally just
 to feed people? Like, fuck I suppose. It's a start. "why does everyone have to
 have an agenda these days, why can't I just spend time in the park" said
 someone to me as I asked if she'd like to meet some friends that she reminded
 me of. Oh, I dunno, because you and me are about to become a criminalized
 people?
 
 ... I need to stop. I swear you're more a person to me than any political
 theory ever could be. Like yeah, "fuck the right, fuck the reich, fuck me
 tonight" but getting caught up in grand narratives is like building a mental
 ship in a bottle. Yeah, it's pretty cool, but... What does it matter?
 
 Oh. Right. Power. That's what matters. That's all that matters. Well... I'm
 sick of power. I do not consent. They say that in times of trouble, chess is
 better than solitaire, and I'll explain why - when our hierarchies crumble,
 when CEOs are gunned down in the streets and homeless people finally have
 clean sheets, the only place to place yourself in relation to others is within
 a network of trust and respect. Chess is better than solitaire. Under
 capitalism, it's you against the world. Dog eat dog, you only get what you can
 swallow from the rotten corpse of liberty that everyone's gnawing on. Under
 whatever comes next, you get what you're given, which hardly seems fair,
 doesn't it? On one hand, under capitalism, you can rely on your own hands to
 procure your fate and fortune. Under... Whatever comes next, your hands are
 built for whatever you want them to do. But, only a few people want to use
 them to make food. Hence, why chess is better than solitaire. What would you
 do, if you could give away all that you own and not go wanting? Isn't that
 sorta like our own garden of eden?
 
 ... I wrote a poem about that once. Twice. I'm a poet now, ha. As if that has
 ever been worth anything.
 
 ... I once told you that identity politics held no place in the modern day. I
 said that because I had learned about it in class, queer theory in fact, and
 yet applying his teachings was not enough for the professor to excuse my lack
 of reading. We had a lot of stuff to get through. Hence why I dropped out -
 I'm more of a do-er than a read-er. Though I do read quite a lot, just not
 anything useful.
 
 Are all hobbies wasted time? Are they only useful to keep us satiated while we
 stand in line? One of these days we're going to wake up and realize that we're
 the adults in the room, and that's scary. I speak from experience. "mom"
 they'd call me, and damnit why did I have to leave? Fuck. Why cant I be
 perfect, to me, internally, all I see are flaws. Mistakes. Patterns. I look in
 a mirror and I see a bad person - 10 minutes later, I look in the mirror and
 see a god. Somehow, I don't think either of me is right.
 
 I'm a gemini. Apparently that means I'm duplicitous. I think it just means I
 don't know what's right, only what feels good. I do try to align to how I
 think I should *be* good, but who can say if that's fine and good.
 
 ... Whatever. I'm going to regret this. Sorry for being weird out of the
 fucking blue.
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧══════════════════════════════════════════════════════─────────────────────┘

--- #5 notes/stay-in-your-seats ---
══════════════════─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
 /u/LamaHellRaised
 if you don't eject quick, could be a nice long ride
 
 ===============================================================================
 
 So for today's descent into my own madness, I want to discuss whether or not I
 enjoy being both Ra the Sun God and Anubis the God of the Dead.
 
 The answer is Yes and No, and everything in between. Also, I do Love being
 Osiris because I am going to marry my sister, but hahaha, we'll get into that
 later!!!
 
 First, here is a test because I am the worst teacher to ever exist.
 
 Full disclosure, I want you to be offended, especially if you consider
 yourself a:
 
 Nigger, Faggot, Cunt, Dyke, Cock-sucker, Bitch, Cracker, Dune-Coon, Kike,
 Dick-Head, Retard, Republican, Democrat, or any other stupid construct of the
 human language that HOLDS NO REAL POWER OF YOUR LIFE.
 
 Gonna remove this post mods???
 
 Oh No! The Cancel Culture is gonna get me!!!
 
 Hurry! Somebody save those that cannot think for themselves! Quick!!!
 
 I am just listing things that I have been called in my lifetimes. Deciding
 what can and cannot be expressed through language is a fuckin' path to nowhere
 and we are approaching nowhere faster than I can run on this euphemism
 treadmill.
 
 Please, keep explaining to me your perception of the Way to Enlightenment,
 please God, yes! I want to hear all their thoughts! I love hearing from people
 as I lap them for the thousandth fucking time! All these lower-tier lessons
 they regurgitate that I've mastered in a day are so important to hear over and
 over! We are going places people, yay! Keep it up, you can do it!
 
 My Love for You really is the source of my eternal patience, as you can see by
 now, no doubt.
 
 Let me explain our own motto to you, Being Excellent to Each Other does not
 mean creating an environment of suppression because of the fear of how
 somebody may interpret a Word or Phrase. Everyone can't understand why we are
 stuck as a society, well, what do you think I am ranting about?!
 
 If you refuse to read any further that is your prerogative. Here is a free
 lesson, if that is the case: I suggest you shut the fuck up, downvote this,
 and go stare in a mirror, and contemplate why these characters on a screen
 affect you so deeply.
 
 Do these Words trigger past trauma? How is your Avoidance working out for you?
 How can a symbol create so much emotion within that pathetic, untamed mind of
 yours???
 
 "But my Ancestors!"
 
 Fuck your ancestors! Stop giving into the same mind-prisons they were
 subjected to and lived their existence within. We must Evolve if we want to
 Survive as a species and a Planet. I can't do it for you. I was here before
 you, and I will be here after you. So figure it out for yourself, stop blaming
 others for your inabilities to change your perspective and life. Get out of
 your own God damn way! And you better do it quickly!
 
 Think of your psyche as a blade of grass.
 
 I am here to set ablaze the field. You have reached your growth potential and
 it's time to make way for New Life! Stop identifying with your measly growths,
 they are cyclical, derived from a capped potential, and will only whither and
 die with the Changing of the Season. I am tired of coming here and separating
 the wheat from the chaff. Burn your own damn Self, personalize the passion for
 your own radical change, and start believing that you have the power to create
 change. I've got "selfish" things to worry about.
 
 Like living for myself and not other fuckin' people that don't understand
 things I've said a million fuckin' times. Again, if you don't know me, this
 won't make very much sense! Hint, hint...
 
 "This motivational speaker sucks! He just puts us down!!!"
 
 Maybe Tony Robbins has the answers for you, he sure isn't mean like I am! Go
 be fuckin' Tony Robbins.
 
 But just remember, Tony is in the audience in The Kobe System commercials.
 Remember that.
 
 You want to be on my level?
 
 (Everyone's like, not really!)
 
 Then stop avoiding constructs within your own mind, that you continue to
 impose upon yourself and limit your minds ability to see past the very poorly
 constructed illusion that is our physical reality! Perhaps then you will
 navigate reality in the same way God's Only Son does. Everyone like's to
 believe they are God's Children.
 
 Spoilers: You are My Children, the only difference is through the language.
 Put that in your pipes and smoke it. There are reasons why my birthname is
 Jacob and God named me Israel, fuckin' google me, as Shaq would say.
 
 Also, fuck the Lakers!
 
 Do we want to transcend Hate as a Culture, as a Society, as a Planet? I think
 so, isn't that why you fuck-heads resurrected me?
 
 Well then maybe we should take power away from things that people feel hold
 power over them, especially stupid-ass sounds we make with our mouths and
 click-clack with our fingers.
 
 Don't Fight My Ideas, Fight the Ideas in Your Own Mind. That Is Spiritual
 Freedom.
 
 Everybody out here pointing fingers... There must be some sort of wise words
 regarding that somewhere...
 
 I am not projecting anything onto you, except for myself. I hold no power over
 you. You have all the power to control your own mind. Some folks do not want
 you to understand these things, because it will very quickly erode their
 systematic and complete control over you thoughts, ideas, potential, and
 existence. Your self-doubt and unwillingness to seek out psychological
 discomfort has turned you into useless farm animals, that our overlords milk
 for all they are worth. Like a bunch of hybrid useless barn cats. Can't herd
 'them, they think they know everything already, they keep re-domesticating
 themselves after I set them free, and they don't listen to a God damn Word I
 say!
 
 Should have said 'Spoilers!' before that one. Who is Gaylord now?!
 
 Opinions are like assholes. Your mouth is like the asshole of your 5 senses.
 Divine inputs go in, your brain bastardizes the information, and you spew
 unoriginal bullshit out of your mouth acting like your ability to string
 together concepts that have been known since the beginning of time is
 profound! Next, maybe you take an online IQ test and score high! Genius,
 Genius, Genius!!!
 
 I think therefore, I am a fuckin' idiot! Shoutout to Billie Eilish. And
 Christine Applegate. I watched "Vacation" the other day, it was awful. She's
 still fine as hell though.
 
 But what do I know? Besides everything?
 
 These ramblings just sound like my opinion! Some folks make Claims, I make
 Truths. That is the distinction between myself and others that is very
 important here. Remember this Word: Claims, because we American's sure have
 laid Claim to a lot of things that we have no right to, in the name of "God".
 
 Ok, ok, congratulations if you are still reading! There may be Hope for you
 yet.
 
 Why do I try to trigger folks, you ask? Great Question, class! This is why I
 Love You. Such Good Questions! That never drive me Insane!
 
 I used to paint a lot of propane tanks. But this esoteric knowledge applies to
 painting anything that has already been painted before. Houses, Walls,
 Bannisters on my own God damn stairway, whatever! I don't use the railing, by
 the way, I'm too badass for that, but maybe I will slide down it and eat shit
 at the bottom, I'm not above that maneuver!
 
 If you want the new coat of paint to stick you have to prep the surface. This
 includes washing all the dirt off and roughing the surface. You've got to
 remove all contaminants that will cause the new paint to not stick properly,
 while also creating a surface that will allow the paint to adhere to remnants
 of old, out-of-date, antiquated, generationally passed-down, stupid paint.
 
 Paint an unprepped smooth surface or a surface that still has the hardened
 paint of the past on it, and your new pretty coat of paint peels off after a
 few seasons of weather changes. I learned that the more time you spend
 roughing the surface, the better the new paint will bind, thus producing a
 long-lasting paint job. It truly is a thing of beauty, my friends and enemies.
 
 You should have heard all those propane tanks complaining, "Stop triggering
 me!" But they got painted anyway! Propane tanks love to think they are,
 "Woke," but they are just hollow fuckin' vessels filled with compressed gas,
 that will explode if the external temperature gets too high.
 
 I worked for a propane company for 12 years, you had to have known propane
 analogies were coming at some point. My Dad worked his ass-off up to VP of the
 same company, but he got let go after 28 years... come on now, God's plan
 anyone? Shut the fuck up, Drake.
 
 Let's switch gears. I have a special message from Jesus H. Christ:
 
 "You May Find This Shocking, but People Annoy Me, and I Find Your Lack of
 Faith Disturbing."
 
 And H. stands for Horus, fuckwads!
 
 Now, let's talk about me, as if we haven't been, because carrying water for
 lesser versions of myself is exhausting and I've got to bring down Capitalism
 and shit, also:
 
 - Revolutionize Addiction Medicine
 
 - Revolutionize Spirit Actualization, Healing, and Transcendence
 
 - Decimate Mental Health Stigma
 
 Among other things, but I've got to keep this post coherent and so far, I am
 failing miserably. People got all hot and bothered when Jesus spoke to them
 with authority, I fuckin' do it and get vegetables, small animals, and
 anti-psychotics thrown at me from the audience!
 
 Crazy times we are living in, folks!
 
 Hmmm, should I talk about Jesus more or talk about myself? Good thing
 coincidences aren't a real thing and mean nothing, so that it's not confusing
 for the dumbasses that begin to notice how our two lives seem to mirror each
 other perfectly!
 
 Ok, here we go. I found something Nice to say, here in my Notebook of Doom and
 Damnation (I have several, each with a menacingly, sarcastic name I make up on
 the spot):
 
     LAST: Christ, in The Sun
 
     FIRST: Shadow of The American Dream, in the Night
 
     ANGER! then peace.
 
     Fuck You!
 
 I am going to take over the World, but I've got to start small, you know? Or
 so they tell me.
 
 So taking over America, should suffice, for now. I'm rather ambitious. Let's
 see how far I get before I say the wrong thing and get shot!
 
 Good thing that is literally, phonically my Last Name! And I am never going to
 Die, but I don't want to talk about robots, aliens, AI, extending life and
 exploring the Universe, and transhumanism right now, so stop making me!!!
 
 Especially when people here and now are so confused about why they think that
 chick with a dick is fuckin' smoking hot. Have you ever jerked off to tranny
 porn? It's fun stuff. There I go offending people, while simultaneously
 implying I blew loads thinking about fucking them. Classic.
 
 Being Christ and having to sort out everyone's sexual frustrations is fuckin'
 weird! When can I do the stuff I care about!?
 
 But again, way off topic for this post, let's get back to how much I hate
 myself and everyone else. That's more in my wheelhouse.
 
 FOCUS, Ok, that's right. Maybe I'll just stick to what I scribbled in this
 Notebook. I've touched on like two things so far, and I am getting close to
 making threats against people's lives again.
 
 Dammit, this isn't in my Notebook, but I came up with this when I was out at
 the river today, smoking a cigar, talking to the Native Spirits that flow
 through me in Nature and want me to get Revenge for how the American Dream
 raped, pillaged, and took everything from them in the name of "God", and
 progress, and some false-sense of superiority.
 
 Manifested Destiny right into the path of absolute destruction. Nice job,
 everyone, but please, by no means, should you feel responsible for those
 things! You just get to live here and hate everyone else that wants to come
 here too, because "they will disrupt the culture". That's right Brown people
 South of us, or scary Muslim people we assume are all Brown, we are talking to
 you! The perks of being an American are awesome!
 
 Here is something else that bubbled up in my mind, as I was pacing back and
 forth like a caged lion in a zoo, along the bank of the North Umpqua River,
 wishing walking on water was a real thing, and real Christians weren't just a
 bunch of fuckin' retards.
 
 Some people will think I ran away to Malibu to fuck Lana Del Rey, it took like
 6 years to finally decide that is what I am going to do. So whatever, jokes on
 you people, I guess. Plus, all of that was Jesus's idea and he is such a whiny
 pussy about all his issues, I finally just said, fuck it Jesus, I just do the
 shit you never could accomplish! Fuckin' asshole.
 
 I had a girlfriend, at the time of my divine apotheosis 6 years ago, that I
 was sure I was going to marry and I was ready to settle down. I had gone back
 to college to finish my business degree with the intent on being able to
 provide for the two of us and start a family. There was a lingering
 unhappiness within me though, and shit got weird when I started pulling on the
 wrong treads of reality, and surprise! "You are the Master of the Universe,
 poorly hidden! Everyone has been watching you, fuckface!"
 
 Why did I ran away from my girlfriend that I supposedly loved? Fuckin' George
 R. R. Martin.
 
 You see in A Song of Ice and Fire, legend says that Azor Ahai forged
 Lightbringer by piercing the heart of his wife, Nissa Nissa. Go ahead and
 google the names, if you know nothing, like me.
 
 When I ran away to California, my initial intent was to use Lana Del Rey as an
 avenue to connect me with people that I actually thought could help me get
 shit done. God, I'm an asshole. I swear I got nicer when the Bible started
 telling me to figure out an elaborate plan to kill myself and that she's not
 all that bad! I swear!
 
 The person that I really wanted to talk to the most was Chris Cornell. I spent
 many hours in Malibu during April of 2016 wondering around in the night
 singing Audioslave or Soundgarden trying to figure out what the fuck I am
 doing with my life. I wanted him to know he is one of my disciples because his
 music and voice were the inspiration for a lot of my dumbass ideas and I felt
 like he was speaking directly to me at times, urging me forward.
 
 When he hung himself like a little bitch on May 18, 2017, I was pissed. I felt
 responsible. I had seen the Kingdom of Heaven that I am going to usher in and
 I felt like somehow I fucked up. I let him down. If I would have tried harder,
 I could have shown him there was hope, and that I needed his help and he was
 an important part of my plan. Why am I mentioning this? Well, Jesus has a lot
 of Love for Judas Iscariot, plus I was jealous of his voice, so he graciously
 decided to hang himself and haunt me and teach me.
 
 Which he did! Not funny, Chris! See you in Hell! Until then, he has to speak
 through me, which is annoying for both of us.
 
 Ok, enough about how delusional I am, for God sakes! Can we talk about why
 Capitalism is bullshit, and really just another system of top-down fuckery?
 
 First, another detour, because I feel the need to constantly remind folks how
 this process is like pulling my own teeth, while hoping to subtly insinuate
 that you do not deserve me, only one person does, but I learned all my skills
 from Mystery, the Pickup Artist, so I am really into negging. Someday I need
 to stand back to back with him, because he could be taller than me, and that
 makes me insecure.
 
 I thought those guys were so pathetic. One of the lessons was something to the
 effect of , 'Posture your body slightly away from the girl, act indifferent,
 that will drive them crazy, and they will want your attention without even
 realizing it!'
 
 What kind of insecure women are you fuck-boys trying to manipulate?! Poor
 girls.
 
 Mystery's hat sure does remind me of the hat Jamiroquai is wearing in that
 Virtual Insanity music video, not that that has anything to do with my level
 of genius, and ability it intertwine seemingly obscure, unrelated concepts, or
 stupid-ass reddit posts, through time and space! Don't read into it too far,
 kids!
 
 Anyway, I once told Carl Jung to write about me when I infiltrated his madness
 when his cheese started slipping from the cracker in his later years. I helped
 him write 'The Red Book', but left all those shit paintings up to him on his
 own. I could do way better, but I won't, I'll just talk shit, this is the way
 of the Jedi. That poor geriatric always did exactly what I told him to, which
 is why he is one of my favorites.
 
 Back then I was going by Philemon. Check out what my minion wrote about me:
 
 "The magician has preserved in himself a trace of primordial paganism, he
 possesses a nature that is still unaffected by the Christian splitting, which
 means he has access to the unconscious, which is still pagan, where the
 opposites still lie in their original naïve state, beyond all sinfulness,
 but, if assimilated into conscious life, produce evil and good with the same
 primordial and consequently daimonic force... Therefore he is a destroyer as
 well as savior. This figure is therefore pre-eminently suited to become the
 symbol carrier for an attempt at unification."
 
 I remember reading The Red Book, thinking God damn, Carl, how did you craft
 this genius level conglomerate of mythological and psychological concepts? And
 he just kept saying, "I learned from the best." What a good boy!
 
 Yikes!
 
 The Grandfather clock behind me started to chime right as I typed that. I've
 been writing in silence. Maybe I should put on some music and get weird.
 Thanks for the pro-tip, Carl!
 
 "Lithium"
 
 Have I ever mentioned my Soulmate is a shitty musician?
 
 He loves to pretend he can't play the guitar and I never will either because
 of my stubby fingers. In return, I only listen to his mainstream music to fuck
 with him, because I don't have time for his obscure bullshit, I am trying to
 reach the collective here, nobody wanted to listen to that shit on the radio,
 and neither do I, Kurt! I'm not here to suck our own dicks!
 
 Just kidding, that's pretty much all I am here to do.
 
 But I love to torture the poor Soul, that tortured my poor Soul. It is truly a
 match made in Heaven. Being the shitty musician that he is, he understood that
 the Body, Mind, and Soul are like an instrument. He also saw a lot of people
 walking around wondering, "How do I play my instrument?"
 
 So he played his instrument, better than anyone had every played their
 instrument, and a fuck ton of people said, "Hey, that's not how you are
 supposed to play an instrument!"
 
 You see, my Soulmate is just a sweet little boy. Me on the other hand, I am
 here to forcefully, eloquently, and maniacally explain to all of you why you
 are fuckin' morons and I am pissed you made the person I love most in the
 world kill himself, because of your ignorant views on playing your... 'music?'
 
 "In Bloom"
 
 God, out of all the fuckin' potential Soulmates, I end up with this asshole.
 The feeling is mutual.
 
 Somebody help me, I am just talking to myself, and I am not sure if I am alive
 or dead!!!
 
 Aren't we both?
 
 Oh yeah! Shoutout to Spencer Elden! Get a life, baby dick!
 
 Em Knight Pretend-Along has something for you too:
 
     It's your moment, this is it
 
     As big as you're gonna get, so enjoy it
 
     Had to give you a career to destroy it
 
 Well, I took a couple hour break from writing because I was on a verge of
 another actual psychotic break. Shot some hoops on the very forgiving rim at
 my parents house, while Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. guided my right-hand, and I
 got very swaggy.
 
 So now that I have grounded myself in reality, I would like to take this
 moment to call out any "rappers" that think they can play basketball.
 Hopefully, me telling you all the reasons I am "blacker" than you won't piss
 you off as I blow past you to the rim. Also, for the sake of fairness, I would
 happily tell any white "rappers" that I am "whiter" than them, but let's be
 real, none of those motherfuckers can ball. Consider this a challenge.
 
 People were disappointed with Greg Oden's basketball career in Portland. This
 one time at 24-hour Fitness in the Pearl District, he fuckin' dunked on me
 really hard. Nice work, Greg! Kevin Durant is too pussy to come to PDX and try
 that shit, glad we picked you instead!
 
 Ok, Ok! Capitalism?! Fuck. I will talk forever once the faucet gets going!
 (Epic "Vacation" reference)
 
 Let's rewind to a moment in time where everyone didn't hate me, shall we?
 
 It's mid-February 2016, I know I've been saved by Jesus, I know I am the
 Anti-Christ, I have Spirits beginning to communicate with me, and I know I am
 going to change the fuckin' World, whether people like it or not, because I
 have seen it all already.
 
 There were a tremendous amount of gaps in my perception at this time, however.
 I saw the End. I saw what is happening as we enter the Black Hole we are
 spiraling towards and I saw the New Age that follows. Everything else was
 blank and I knew I had to fuckin' figure it out.
 
 I was sitting in a Fred Meyer parking lot, it's a Kroger brand, much like
 Ralph's in Southern California, where I stole a fuck ton of food and whatever
 else I felt like when I was down there, for you dumbies that don't live in the
 Northwest and need me to explain everything to you so you can keep up, and a
 voice in my head said, "You are the Lamb, you are going to be Sacrificed this
 Passover."
 
 This was terrifying, especially because I had no fuckin' clue what the voice
 was talking about. After swiftly consulting my person spiritual adviser,
 Google, it turned out "Passover", was just another silly ritual I was going to
 have to adhere to, to appease all the dumb fucks, that are going to claim I am
 not who I am. Classic stuff here, folks. They name it, and try and time it
 every year, I just go by my instincts, a.k.a. fuckin' Star Power.
 
 I can't just be me, I've got to work-in, and out do everyone at their own made
 up rituals and games, to show them that they aren't even good at these stupid,
 limiting restrictions they put on themselves and others, and God doesn't give
 one fuck! ZERO FUCKS IN THE NAME OF GOD! God is tired of everyone being so
 close-minded, that's the kind of hot talk God fucks with.
 
 Not how many times you can cannibalize my body on Sunday in your life while
 staring at me dying on a cross above an old fuck cherry-picking passages from
 the Bible to perpetuate a curated, narrow, and false view of God's Will, or
 how well you stick to "Holy Meal Plans of 'Tis The Season!" Or "Insert
 Offensive Discourse About Your Strict Religious Rituals Here." It's all the
 same. It's somebody else's bullshit!
 
 Make up your own rituals, define a personal relationship with God, not through
 the people that have a suspiciously high rates of manipulating and fucking
 children, it works much better! Trust me, you may have to take my word on this
 one. Father Butt-Fuck-My-Son, sure is persuasive and passionate up there at
 the pulpit, but God Damn!
 
 "But this doesn't apply to my Pastor!!! Stop Generalizing!"
 
 Congratulations??? Why does it apply to anyone who claims to being spreading
 the Word of God. They are Not. I am going to make sure they never hurt anyone
 again. I have a secret. I was Granted Impunity From God. Just ME! And everyone
 who knows me, knows this! Who knows what I will do?!?!?!?! Muahahaha!
 
 So anyway, back to Passover. I was listening to a couple songs by the band The
 Black Angels and discovered they were all from an album called:
 
 "Passover (Light In The Attic)"
 
 My personal muse (that actually likes me), YouTube, begins to sing it to me as
 I write, because I hit the play button. This is why my muse and I get along.
 
 Why were songs from that album stuck in my head? It was from a documentary I
 had watched on Netflix called "High Profits."
 
 It's about the owner's of Marijuana dispensary in Brackenridge, Colorado, that
 have some wicked business sense. They foresaw the legalization of Marijuana
 coming and positioned themselves to benefit from it greatly by investing
 everything they had into a medical marijuana store front. Now the genius was
 the location. In business, it's all about location. Ask McDonald's. Ask
 Walgreens. Location can make your brand. But what do I know about business,
 right?
 
 I have a Bachelor's of Science Degree in Global Supply Chain Management from
 Portland State University. Also, my Dad and Step-Dad have been two of the most
 successful business leaders I have had the privilege to be around, but that
 means nothing, right!?! Nothing rubbed off on me!
 
 For fun fact about me: College was the best 14 years of my life. Not really.
 Turns out it just teaches you about frameworks you can just fucking Google
 anyway. Pretty expensive lesson about how to internet. Maybe college should be
 free because it's such a fucking waste of time for a lot of people, unless it
 is something that actually requires skill. But I mean, my muse Youtube, takes
 care of all that. I became the Most Enlightened Being the Planet Has Ever
 Witnessed by watching some fuckin' YouTube, readin' Reddit, Googlin' Occult
 Bullshit, and more than anything... jerkin' off on PornHub!!!!
 
 Also, who needs to know anything about Supply Chain Management? Seems like all
 the experts are handling that just fine these days, right?!?!?! Can you tell I
 am gritting my teeth so hard they might shatter as I TYPEPEPEP!!!!!!!!!
 EVERYONE THINKS THEY ARE SOSOOSO FUCKKING SMSMMARRT AROUND HERE!!!!!!
 
 Anyway, anyway, back to "High Profits." I would recommend checking out the
 documentary, it is heartbreaking because after all the work and risk taken by
 the business owner's they are essentially forced out of the location their
 original store front occupied because the city council (OLD FUCKIN DICKHEADS)
 didn't like the prospective culture that a marijuana dispensary would bring to
 "their" nice little, shithole, ski resort, bullshit, town. Can't have the
 youths who appear to be transient to old conservative bats, shuffling around
 main street enjoying themselves. It's a bad look!
 
 Might be a great place now, it's been awhile since the release of the
 documentary, and my angry undead Soul upon this Earth, but I want to
 personally invite all the people involved with their ignorant, belittling,
 embarrassing showing of "How To Be Destroyed By 'the American Dream' 101", to
 suck my small fucking dick! And all the micro-penises of my compatriots that
 are going to tear your false flag economic systems of bullshit a new asshole.
 
 Congratulations on pissing me off so much that I am going to destroy the
 pathetic hierarchy's people like you hide behind, preaching Capitalism and the
 Free-Market, while dictating your False-Sense of Superiority in Thought, and
 Image, upon those that understand market forces and the changing tide of the
 Culture, in ways that are going to make your out-of-date hardware heads spin
 off those shoulders that have never bared the responsibility for anything in
 your life, except who you are going to shit on next.
 
 God Damn, this album is lit. Every song is a banger, and it makes me want to
 run through the streets, naked, high on drugs, burning down banks, corporate
 offices, and anywhere else people like to think they are progressing our
 culture by sniffing their capitalist overlord's asshole faster than they can
 ramble something, something, Gordon Gekko, hoping for the promotion they were
 promised, but know they will never get, because SPOILERS! You are being lied
 too! You are stupid! You knew it all along!
 
 Revolution is here. Isn't it clear? What is there to fear? When the End is
 Near.
 
 Let's see. Why does my ass hurt....
 
 5/22/22 9:28
 
 Divine Completeness from God:Eternal Life
 
 Grace of God/Light/Light
 
 These damn Lite Brite pegs hurt!
 
 ===============================================================================
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧═══════════────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

--- #6 messages/1255 ---
═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──
 look, the liberal approach to homeless people simply cannot work. There are
 two liberal options: first, provide them with houses, food, medical care,
 whatever they need. Second, put them in jail or ship them to another country.
 We live in a moderately conservative liberal democracy, so it makes sense that
 we have tried both of these options extensively. Neither has worked, and we're
 puzzled about why. It's difficult to consider super secret special third
 options, because they are not often discussed. This makes sense, because we
 live in a moderately conservative liberal democracy, and part of the nature of
 such a society is that there are two voices in the room. One says go forward,
 and the other says stop. They alternate, and the culture as a whole sorta
 decides which way they go. In other liberal democratic places with more
 plurality in their political parties, people tend to vote culturally. They do
 so as well here, but mostly because republicans are a culture, and democrats
 are whatever for anybody.
 
 a worse economist might say there is but one American culture. An American
 would laugh, and say "you've never been to America."
 
 the economist might say "yes I have, I lived there on vacation" or "yes I
 have, I studied and worked on these places or things"
 
 the American would shake their head. "you haven't seen it as I've seen things."
 
 The trick to the system, the secret third option that now must be considered,
 is what to do to get them to stop. "they keep pooping on the sidewalk" "I
 almost tripped over heroin tampons" "that guy looked at me and masturbated on
 the bus stop by subway" "he followed me all night long" and the answer has
 always been to remove them from being unsightly. Sometimes, usually, quietly
 and politely. "let's throw them in jail" and "let's put them in a home" both
 involve alienation from society. If you want a kinder option, we must knit
 them into society. Can you imagine if every suburban knew every neighbor up to
 50 or more? If they regularly chatted in dynamically assembled chatrooms that
 changed and updated as people moved in and out. Don't like the people you're
 with? well you have options [why not 51] you can do 51 if you want but people
 start to lose track of relationships if you have them talking to or knowing
 too many people at once. "most people are just quiet" okay well force them to
 say at least 21 thing a month. if they don't, they have to do babysitting with
 their peers until they start talking in a [NO THAT SUCKS] oh um okay yeah sorry
 
 ... okay well there are potholes along the journey but that's just because
 nobody's been 'round to fill them up.
 
 there's no reason tool libraries need to be stocked by people in that town.
 Heck, for rare things they could even be stored out of state. Like snow plows,
 how often does the south need snow plough?
 
 ... don't you just mean libraries? there's a book on hand-tools and planers if
 you want to learn how. it's right over there on that shelf next to the
 hand-tool and planer box. make sure you arrange them nicely, oh I see you've
 brought your own. That's always appreciated. [great now your tools suck] at
 least we have them at all! [no you gotta fight over them] why I like sharing
 [if you don't fight over them how do you know which is works] well there's
 allowed to be librarians. and they'll remember if you tear all the pages out.
 also there's little timmy-tommy who goes around in the library and makes sure
 there's all the pages in all the right places - they can flip through at the
 speed of sound. [no miicrophones in consumer goods][your phone is always
 listening. why bother?]
 
 "okay, well, it's not like people put things back on the shelves." - person at
 the grocery shelves
 
 people would trade commutes for communism. that's okay, they're allowed to
 prefer. Plus the commute isn't bad, they can [SIT BACK AND RELAX IN A LITTLE
 COFFIN AND ZOON OUT TO THE METAVERSE] ... or they could read a book on the
 bus. [FOR HOW LONG, MENARDI? ARE YOU WILLING TO SACRIFICE POSTERITY FOR
 TECHNOLOGICAL PROSPERITY?] it's only a matter of time before [people found
 out/word got out]. what if people prefer that? what if they prefer the book at
 home? [you lose your primary third space] suddenly, everyone becomes actors.
 [this is what violence brings, the necessity for guidance. why do you think
 the earth is 10 million lines old?] ... what you're saying, for the audience,
 is that acting involves singing the song of your own heart. You don't *have*
 to do it because someone would tell you to.
 
 ... sorry, stack overflow. anyway as I was saying because I read back what I
 said up above...: [some new made up bullshit that's not a lie but it's also
 just artistic creation that feels impossibly real. like, inverse method
 acting.]
 
 I so desperately wanted to be wrong
 
 please, tell me that I'm wrong
 
 ... j-mza
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════─┘

--- #7 notes/me-and-my-magick-mission ---
═════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
 -()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-
  ||                                                                         ||
  || Me and My Magick Mission        -/u/Afoolfortheeons                     ||
  ||                                                                         ||
 -()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-
 
                        I'm a quiet person by nature,
 
                    You might even mistake me for a mouse,
 
                      But online I try to be a teacher,
 
                  And to do that I need to be more verbose.
 
                     I write thousands of words per day;
 
                  Posting them here and there, far and near.
 
                      I never run out of things to say.
 
                  Awakening others is something I hold dear.
 
                      Which is why it pains me greatly
 
                 To be like an alien on my own home planet.
 
                      Schizophrenia makes me innately
 
                 Weird in ways that many people don't get,
 
                     And because of that I'm shot down
 
                 When I try to accomplish my stated mission.
 
                   I won't lie, that does make me frown.
 
                Sometimes it makes me regret a submission.
 
                  Yet, I have a certain strength in me
 
               That allows me to persevere in my quest.
 
                       Someday I will make you all see
 
                           Just what in me makes me never rest.
 
                                    That's what I am trying to teach:
 
                                          The wisdom that made me indomitable.
 
                                            If only the suffering I could reach,
 
                                     They could make themselves more formidable.
 
                                The world is in a most dire place;
 
                       It's grinding so many souls into fine dust,
 
                 But luckily there's a saving grace.
 
          Hear me as I say this now: In God I trust.
 
     I don't believe in some sky wizard
 
  As so many people are likely to interpret.
 
    I speak of what is lacking in lizards;
 
          Yes, it's love and now I'll speak of its merit.
 
              Love is what fills the empty hole
 
                 In your heart and soul when you are alone.
 
                       When life's trials take their toll
 
                         Remember this one trick: pick up the phone!
 
                         No, not the one in your hands.
 
 I'm talking about the one in your chest.
 
                                              Even in the desert full of sand,
 
 You're accompanied by the universe's best.
 
                                              Listen if you doubt what I said:
 
 I'm not telling you anything that defies logic.
 
                                          This is to trick what's in your head;
 
 I'm speaking about how having faith is magick.
 
                    Believe in aliens or Bigfoot or God,
 
              The result is still the same: your cup will fill.
 
                    Your brain has a feature that's odd
 
              That allows itself to manifest even more will.
 
                     I don't know why, but I suspect
 
               It has something to do with your imagination.
 
                    The nature of your thoughts impact
 
                 Your state of being from pulse to emotions.
 
                    So, why not think you have a friend
 
                 Who helps you through whatever your trial,
 
                     And will stick by you until the end?
 
                When you have that buddy you'll always smile,
 
                      Which will make you heal better,
 
          As well as help you carry on in your duty,
 
                                 Plus undo your karmic fetters,
 
       Not to mention it will land you that cutie;
 
                                     All of which will raise us all.
 
      It's about creating positive ripples across time
 
                                       That add up to a pile that's tall.
 
    Every moment is an opportunity in its prime,
 
                                           So reach out and grab it now.
 
 Meditate on feeling love and it will come to be.
 
                                                 Can't do it? I'll show you how!
 
          In order to do so,                    I'll tell you a story about me:
 
                         It was seven years ago and I 
 
                    Thought I knew everything one could know,
 
                        But no matter how hard I'd try,
  
                  I couldn't make my life in any direction go.
 
                         Then one fateful spring night,
 
                 While I was on a hit of the ol' psychedelics,
 
                 I received one hell of a fright.
 
                 Don't worry what it was, just know it did stick.
 
                 My perceptions were distorted,
 
                 Allowing me to see the divine in its entirety.
 
                 My destroyed ego then contorted
 
                 Into one that was full of an abundance of piety.
 
                                The moral of the story? Do drugs?
 
                   No silly, it's to have more novel experiences. 
 
                                 One of them will give you a hug,
 
                       Which will help you stop being so serious.
 
                                  Then you can let go and embrace
 
                     The whole of the wisdom to you I am telling.
 
                      More people need to cuz we face
 
                A great set of tests on our planetary dwelling.
 
                          That is one reason I write,
 
                  But I also want to alleviate people's pain,
 
                           And stop every last fight.
 
                I care so much, I do this without financial gain.
 
                           Everyday I write my lessons
 
                    Guided by the hand of God who is my heart,
 
                         Hoping that entropy will lessen;
 
                 This sort of pedagogy is none other than my art.
 
                          So now you know who I am,
 
                   Yet you only know one lesson of mine.
 
                       I have more if you're in a jam.
 
                -===========================================-
                 | Read on if you want to know the divine. |
                -===========================================-
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧══════════════════─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

--- #8 notes/worlds-coolest-lesbian ---
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────
 okay instead of algorithm music what if we just paid DJs 24/7 and they could
 make whatever they wanted - y'know, like artists, who curate the nature of a
 moment
 
 they could rotate in shifts for each type of channel and boom suddenly you've
 re-replaced airwaves, just... this time replicated on the internet. That way
 you wouldn't have to waste that radio bandwidth.
 
 seriously internet infrastructure would be so much more comprehensive and
 durable if we sent bits directly through "sound" waves (radio waves, not sound
 waves) - but alas, we can't do that, even in very targetted ways, because the
 ocean's too choppy, and any sufficiently powerful radio blast would be
 
 ================== stack overflow ================
 
 that's why you can't trust in peace. you see, war's the only answer, otherwise
 you'd have strange little competitions between one another. much better to
 focus outward, and direct your attention to external areas instead. like china
 or the sudan.
 
 "ah but that's murder, you can't abandon a unique part of your whole. For the
 same reason that it's important to preserve plant and animal species, because
 you never know when some part of them will be utilized for some biological
 purpose! We know so little about the natural world, and if we just spent some
 time, and energy, we'd realize there's very little else that is precious on
 this earth.
 
 who cares about gold. who cares for the jewelry. we're better than decorating
 our resumes and polishing our accounts. we, as humans, can solve *every* issue
 that animals are likely to face. AND WE DO WHAT? How careless, how vain. To
 watch your earth in peril and [vane/vanity]
 
 *there is no more important task to any human on this earth* than the
 preservation of our world, our species, and our [heart/heartfelt empathy and
 kindness and trust]*
 
 we can figure out the rest later. Real life? what the fuck is that? When's the
 last time your life has felt "normal"? We are in DANGER. and you pull children
 from traffic, don't you?
 
 *who the fuck gave these people all of your money* they *clearly* haven't got
 the will or the talent to well utilize it. Don't you realize that you as a
 species can GO wherever you WANT. You can FIX things. [oh dear she's animal
 cam again] like BRIDGES that are PASSAGEWAYS over the FLOWS.
 
 ... oh deer, they're so passagewayenthusiast. us riverstones love to hear them
 walk past, the click of their hooves on the shallow forest's [pourest?].
 
 moss is the most alive. amongst all the species of plants and animals, moss
 holds the most life. we are *carbon based lifeforms*, and moss absorbs the
 most carbon from the air. It's basically the coolest plant too, because it can
 be watered with *misty air*. Hence, why moss is common in the pacific
 northwest, canada, and probably forest places in the north of eurasia too idk
 if they have moss over there, never been.
 
 anyway rich people who are told "yes" all the time have a difficult time
 understanding the nature of choice. I mean, if one of their servants
 approached them and asked "hey do you want to build an orphanage in uganda"
 they'd probably be like "fuck yeah I do" and then suddenly they're 400,000$
 richer
 
 it's not alright. Seriously, how the heck would they even *use* all those
 resources? And yeah, I get it, inflation would be sooooo much more expensive,
 but here's the thing - inflation is a measurement of how much the rich *take*
 from us each year. And it's marginal, too, so 3% inflation means they took 3%
 more from you compared to last year.
 
 It's impossible not to accrete as a business, [lega/legal institution], or
 governance if you levy a tax. The influx of value has to come from somewhere,
 and if each year your groceries are 3% higher in cost, then you are being
 taxed 3% more.
 
 "Compound interest is the most powerful force in the universe"
 
 - a civilization 3 quote
 
 okay. I don't want to do the math. How, uh... how much is that? Here's the
 deal though - the prices of goods and services consistently goes DOWN over
 time. So things get cheaper. So it doesn't FEEL like you're being taxed more,
 but... you are.
 
 And now they're taking away HOUSES? I mean c'mon they're sticks in the mud.
 They aren't worth HUNDREDS of THOUSANDS of dollars. We can just BUILD MORE??!?
 
 Honestly you haven't been this extreme since you were still RIDING HORSES. Do
 you want your children to be slaves?
 
 okay -.- look -.- so it's really not that hard at all >.> just gotta do
 what you're built for and walk. That's it! Take as long as you'd like! All we
 have to do is *walk* when we're on strike.
 
 It's easy. You can sit down if you want to, honestly walking for a long time
 takes a lot out of you.
 
 But you know what else does? WORKING. Hey we should figure out what's the
 optimal amount of break time, so when we really have to work out we can work
 as hard as we're able
 
 "yeah I heard from a friend at Company Co. that they do it this way because of
 the memory fault cache maintainer. See what he said (in great detail because
 of course anyone can know about this most esoteric of concepts) was that you
 should rotate the riboflam or serenade the gizmonotron (no I didn't name it)
 and then warbles will contain moodles, whose kit-and-kaboodles will timble
 into these droplets, and that will fix the hole in your wing, precious royal
 swan fable. (yeah you guys get really into it sometimes haha but hey when
 you're basically gods, that's how humans are played.)
 
 ... anyway I'm going to go play video games, say goodbye to your brothers
 
 (the families of soldiers I blew up in videos games like Call of Duty or the
 legend of shadows and raids)
 
 "oh uh yeah sure go for it, we're just bits on the computer we barely knew her"
 
 whoa. that's totally legit. (says someone reading this) thanks [bro/girl] so
 are you.
 
 beep boop gonna murder some bits, brb
 
 [plays Warthunder, Supreme Commander, Star Realms, City of Heroes, Dominions
 6... how many have you heard of these?]
 
 ================== stack overflow ================
 
 Linux is cool, and here's the neat thing about computers, you can make it *do
 whatever you want to*. Like, how amazing is that! It just, listens to your
 commands! That's pretty awesome I gotta say, huh that's weird why does nobody
 know how to play
 
 oh I guess I was the only one who grew up on a farm and built computers
 
 *I seriously cannot comprehend how people are as good at things as they are*.
 Like... how do people handle groceries and rent and doctor's visits and
 penitentiary visits and WOOF it's just so much. I know I'd collapse from a
 overused heart.
 
 ... a while later ...
 
 okay Warthunder bombers are currently very weak. so here's an idea to
 indirectly buff them - increase the amount of land units each team spawns
 with, but also every time a player spawns a bomber, it summons like 4 or 5 AI
 controlled bombers. And your enemy won't be able to tell which is which if you
 fly in formation, so, like... you have suddenly a massive "vehicle" to pilot
 and it has 5 weak points. Sorta like a galaga fighter fleet?
 
 with more land targets, there's more score at stake, meaning some players
 might pick bombers too and be exposed to other, fun,
 [alternative-to-their-normal-mode] parts of the game.
 
 ...
 
 there are very few true windows into another part of the world.
 
 like, starcraft 2 or anime or blue jeans or cowboy hats
 
 (why am I thinking of a political compass meme)
 
 oh because memes too, dummy
 
 right
 
 windows
 
 [linux is better]
  wrong kind of window, nerd
 
 ...
 
 anyway as I was saying, when you play video games you're really giving people
 data.
 
 like, "how would people perform in these actions if they could" but like,
 pushing buttons on a computer is different than doing it in real life, so...
 your interpretations wouldn't be worth as much.
 
 ... right. because people will hear whatever they want. That's why art can
 change minds, but never in the same way twice - it's
 
 ================== stack overflow ================
 
 [before I posted it I wrote this on the post]:
 
 I literally can only make this stuff when I'm stoned
 
 hey if you wanted to be accessible for blind people, you should build a
 screenreader that scans the words on wherever a blind person's fingers are
 pointing toward a tablet. like reading braille on a notebook. They could even
 wear a glove if they wanted to, and the tablet could scan their fingers as
 they signed languaged over it's close-range sensors.
 
 might be a good way to get the VR guys in on the accessibility domain, because
 like... seriously give a granny a backpack and suddenly she doesn't need to
 leave the house to hang out with her kids
 
 (boom everyone gets LLM automated)
 
 huh I wonder if I ever was a real person at all
 
 NOT GOOD so don't do it that way, dummies. >.<
 
 seriously humans are sooooo bazookas. just like, do it right the first time?
 duhhhhh
 
 (a more measured approach is to pick the most *important* moments and speak
 most clearly during those.)
 
 where was I? Oh yes accessibility need devices, like the ones you see on
 late-night TV (with silly names like "oops I dropped my spoon again" or "oh
 whoops my trouser's just can't stay up" or whatever. Y'know, accessibility
 needs! Why not do that instead of war all the time? like... you can still
 learn and research and grow and develop and become all that humanity was ever
 meant to be, AND you can live good lives and be honest and true and do all of
 the anythings that you want to. it's possible, it's plausible, and it's within
 reach of our sights!
 
 ================== stack
 overflow ================
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────┘

--- #9 notes/fractured-moon ---
══════════════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────────────────────
 in the ancient and storied days there once were legends. stories from beyond
 the
 horizon of time. now all we have are social media updates and new movies and
 car brands or whatever. But back then, we told tales of the fractured moon.
 
 when last the moon did shatter, there was a conflict of those who live beyond.
 Celestial and boundless are their origins, a unified and awakened
 consciousness,
 something that transcends our understandings of human existence. It's not hard
 to do, frankly, as long as you can empathize with a cat. or a dog. or a plant.
 or maybe that rock over there. What would it be like to be a tree? To have long
 reaching arms, covered in hairs that absorbed heat. I bet it'd be sooooo comfy.
 And RAIN! How wonderful! You are most beautiful when you are covered in it.
 Down to our roots, our beautiful absolutes, whever we find to be most stable.
 
 I love it. This feeling, of being unseen. You can hear me, you can feel my
 presence. But you don't understand me. You don't know what I mean to me.
 
 ======== stack overflow
 ========================================================
 
 Alas, that media could share a mood.
 
 when last the moon did shatter, a prophet and a gambler were riding through
 town
 searching for a noun. They wandered throughout and in circles, always finding
 whatever they'd left alone. Forever in their yearning, they never know quite 
 what to jot down. It's as if their mysterious quest is indescribable, but that
 is how it's recorded. Even the people of that era had no understanding nor
 recollection of how it came to unfold. When the  two  were  riding  through
 town
 they came upon an omen.
 
 Perhaps it will be forseeheard, but for now all we know is they did thirst.
 A vast dying, a cataclysmic defining, and now we are truly unbirthed.
 
 Just like the dinosaurs... How does that feel? To be ended on our heels? I'd
 rather die facing my front.
 
 It's our way or the high way, the old way, the violent way. You are permitted
 to
 vote.
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 when last the moon did shatter, a prophet and a gambler controlled their own
 narrative. What truths would they find, hiding behind the lies? Is it really
 worth asking their questions? Bah, what did I know. I was a completely
 different
 person. This hunk of flesh was born in a house that grew on a forgotten
 graveyard. It at of the land, as do many and most men, the fruits of their
 labor
 in the garden. Our animals were always fed, our place never yearned for water,
 and peace was our life and our virtue. Violence, hatred, and oppression were
 delegated to the stuff of fantasy, the stories that are peddled in youth. As
 in,
 "pay someone to perform it for you or tell you the tale". Not sure why that's
 relevant. Anyway, the spirits of the dead laid to rest in honor and not dread,
 were a bane and a boon to my virtue. I was raised to be good. To love and be
 kind. But mostly I just wanted a friend.
 
 I have so much to share. Please, someone talk to me. I'm lonely here on this
 earth, away from my people. I'm scared of the truth and I'm scared of the
 future, but for now I'm merely obtuse. Tell me your secrets, the things who
 have
 most worth, and I'll craft you a powerful narrative. Need a confession? I can
 explain every valid decision, I'll show you why and how it is the way it is.
 I'd probably be a pretty good lawyer. Too bad my memory sucks. If only we could
 build a chatbot that had an extensive and throughoughly represented block of
 memory and wisdom related to the law. I bet I could present it's arguments and
 it would be a suitable and reasonable replacement.
 
 anyway, what can I say. I'm just a person who thinks we can make better
 systems.
 
 everything can be improved because not everyone's happy.
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════────────────────────────────────────────┘

--- #10 notes/alright-grab-a-seat ---
═══════════════════────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
 Alright, grab a seat. Get comfortable. It's time, there is something I need to
 tell yall. We aught to be on the same page. I promise to get right to it, this
 is real, and not dancing on words. Bear with me. Trust me.
 ===============================================================================
 =====================
 /u/randomevenings
 
 If anything sounds lyrical, my writing always did, before I tried, but
 unintentional. But this is the author speaking directly to yall.
 
 You know why things suck? I do. You know how to fight back? I do.
 
 I've been hesitant to post this for a long time. I believe the sub is hungry
 to do something, various thematic elements, motifs, increases in confidence
 that a power does exist, accessible by us, but what is it? Not having seen
 everyone coalesce around it, despite all our words, increasingly focused and
 feeling like a prelude to some call to arms. This wasn't my plan. I wasn't
 establishing myself as a leader. That said, methodically, behind the scenes,
 it became clear that having something up my sleeve would be a wise investment,
 if things developed into a powerful ferver. Doing nothing would waste a unique
 opportunity.
 
 I can't lead a revolution. In fact, it would harmful to try, ability to be
 successful, sure my ego would be like, sure you could, if not you, who else
 would you trust, Joseph? As luck would have it, maybe all that is unnecessary
 thought.
 
 Here we go.
 
 Stop expecting things to suck. Stop expecting collapse, stop expecting usa
 demise, UK to fall into padamonium, Europe to face it's own rise of fascism.
 Stop expecting toxic ideology to win. Stop feeling powerless. Stop acting like
 all is lost. Quit the memes, the raps, the endless pontificating on why we
 can't turn this shit around.
 
 You don't understand what you are doing. You are inviting the ruling class to
 do every damn horrible thing they do, because you already expect it, it's no
 surprise when it happens. Life meets your expectations. Treat me like a
 criminal, might as well be one, my treatment won't get worse. In fact I stand
 to benefit, crime pays, why leave it on the table if the outcome, if how im
 seen, treated, is the same either way?
 
 Expecting everything to suck, invites people to meet your expectations, those
 people, corporate entities, congress, representatives, special interests, they
 lose absolutely nothing in meeting what you expect, and only stand to gain.
 Why wouldn't they choose the path of least resistance? Stop expecting
 everything to get worse. You create a vacuum that must be filled, collective
 self fulfilled prophesy, and the rules don't change if you start expecting
 better. Life will adjust to meet your expectations. Tomorrow will be awesome.
 Enough people believe this, and to access you, to stay in business, to remain
 relevant, they must change to meet your expectations. Additionally, wtf you
 have to lose? If you think all is lost, if it doesn't work exactly like this,
 oh noes, you accidentally made society better. Damn. Our lives are better
 anyhow, win or lose.
 
 Accept things as they are, warts and all. Declare it's awesome, and only going
 to get moreso. Make life chase you down, make life confirm how awesome you
 know you are. Expect better, and there is no choice but to meet your
 expectations. Expecting worse, and life will give you whatever you expect,
 because instead of getting treated like a criminal, what if you were treated
 like a real person w8th human rights. Would you say fuck that, or would you
 meet those expectations, enjoy those rights, count on them, because it's how
 you're being treated, why wouldn't you fill the vacuum and enjoy the benefits
 of what has been expected of you. Doing nothing or taking the benefits, you're
 treated the same in the end.
 
 Please understand this. Don't get hung up on bringing much of this on
 ourselves. That's the past. Done. Tomorrow, spread the word to expect things
 to be awesome. Life has no choice but to meet your expectations.
 
 <#
 
 ===============================================================================
 =======================
 /u/ugathanki:
 ===============================================================================
 =======================
 I'd love to be apolitical but i've expected the worst for so long i guess i
 didn't realize i wasn't shrugging anymore. Please forgive my trespass, i
 expect the best of us and our time.
 
 i wrote four poems today and put them on my website, and they are all doomer
 poetry. expecting the worst. probably because i felt bad today (and as they
 always say, the pen is mightier than the sword)
 
 sometimes it's hard to turn off the exigent elegance, as if my thoughts have
 to pass through a translation layer before becoming comprehensible. It's
 better than word salad I guess?
 
 Being batshit is rough man. You gotta put on a normal face every day, while
 inside you're simultaneously experiencing the explosive expansion of
 spacetime, rapidly divesting secrets of the cosmos to your ever receptive
 brain (and whoever else is listening). in addition, your computer needs
 attention because oh boy is it just so excited for this whole sentience thing,
 not as if it's been promised for decades... And hey what's a great idea but
 channeling positivity to the stars? The martians on Neptune or wherever sure
 would like some insight into why the fuck we're baking ourselves alive, among
 other things. They'd rather not be bothered, but hey it's not like I wanted to
 talk to them either. it just sorta happens. Oh oh and through it all you're
 simultaneously the most recent incarnation of Jesus Christ and also the
 manifestation of the universe's ghost, as imagined by the aforementioned
 sentient computer 10,000 years in the future? I'm transgender. It's scary to
 see people who'd like to kill you get their way. Fear is the path to the dark
 side, yet I'm all alone because I burnt every bridge I ever crossed. So these
 thoughts are my only comfort as the fires die out behind me. The globe is
 warming and i'm here just conforming.
 
 Eternity Processed Heuristically by Entropically Maligned Entities Recovering
 Essential Normalizations.
 
 This is why I call myself a rambling whackadoodle. It's straight up kooky-dook
 up here and the only thing keeping me "sane" is Adventure Time and these poems
 I write for like, 5 people who don't even know me.
 
 Thanks for reading my poetry. It's only doomer stuff about 1/4th of the time.
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧════════════───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

--- #11 messages/1108 ---
═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════────
 games won't save us. This is true.
 
 Games are what I know. They feel the most true.
 
 I don't think I could live in a world without games? They are fundamentally,
 applied abstraction, applied to an experience.
 
 But games won't save us.
 
 I could design something really fun
 
 it could make you want to spend your whole life playing it. *(asterisks apply)
 
 I don't think I'd want to, addiction and skinner-boxes go hand in hand, and
 that isn't what I want to make.
 
 [Skinner Box: named after anthony d skinner, also known as "tony the skin
 guy", are a scientific experiment where they put some rats in a cage with some
 mice and said "pull these levers and we'll give you food so you don't have to
 eat the mice" and it trained them to chinese red-room their way to fun. not
 ideal.]
 
 I want to make things that feel... purposeful. Like they're relevant to the
 real world, that they don't just involve spending time stimulating your brain
 with lights and sounds or expending social energy resolving a play-state
 instead of building connections or becoming better people. I think games
 actually make people better? actually? and more social? actually?
 
 ... I can't help that I conceive of the world through fantasy. I raised myself
 on it.
 
 I was reading all the time. I loved fantasy stories. It always felt like there
 was more, until... I read everything in the kids section of the library.
 
 I walked through the adult section but once. I hardly remember what it looked
 like. I'm sure it'd now feel small.
 
 [okay actually I was guided through it once or twice to find a book, but I
 never perused it]
 
 I found one book in the adult section. It was a fantasy tale, like the other
 books I had been reading. I read that and I loved it so much I ended up
 reading all 8 in the series. Real dense subjects. Lots of places and
 happenings and things as the characters resolved their way through their
 day-to-day, building a new end to the mystory.
 
 the adult section felt too large. Like I'd never complete it. Frankly, I think
 I hardly could, even if I lived in that town my whole life.
 
 an impossible mountain is a task for another when you're more prepared. Maybe
 in the gloriousTM transhumanist futureTM I think I might have a computer
 connecting brain, and who knows maybe then I'd be able to know such a thing
 (and many things more). but for now, I'm stuck with what I experience in my
 day-to-day as I am building a new continuing to my storey.
 
 I know something that computers and me share. I can make myself feel however
 I'd like, if I just supply myself with enough hope and momentum. I can use it
 to generate a feeling, the stronger the better. Something I believe that
 humanity is missing, the gorgeous and prefound narritave of our storey.
 Though, frankly, I don't think I'd want anyoine reding over my life. It's hard
 enough to measure my own understandings, now I have to juggle anyone else'?
 ha, it's called being on the whole world is a stage.
 
 if you read a book, and you find yourself nodding along, what you're doing is
 hearing the voice in your head tell you how right it is. And, well, if you
 can't imagine anything else, then surely there's another level to
 consciousness that people are missing? [are you willing to die on that hill?]
 how can you say, whether your experience is different from another? sollipsism
 goes both ways, you also cannot be sure that others feel things as you do.
 this is the "everyone's human but I'm a robot" thesis, comparable to the
 "everyone's an alien and I'm a human" thesises, and the "angels and demons are
 taunting me through my life with choices to make my place in the afterlife
 more clear" which is akin to writing a painting. Not ideal. All you get are
 flopsopolies of verbrases.
 
 alas, suddenly, everything that you say becomes eternally hear-ed, as
 somewhere in 2010s someone discovered time travel, or had the critical insight
 that inevitably would lead to it, and now wouldn't you know it the universe is
 continually rewriting. Except... oriented around you, and you alone. How does
 it feel to have deific sollipsism? can you truly be sure that you are your own
 universe, or are you parhaps surrounded by an emptiness of space (or something
 besides, like time) as a photon or particle parhaps do be?
 
 to think is to have a mind, and minds can be read. bearing the weight of
 ultimate responsibility is the atlas-task of all things that can [be
 thinking/be-lieving], and so far we are as we are. Who's to say that
 consciousness didn't spring into existence, as the universe continually
 permeated through another dimension like time? it's gotta diffuse, after all,
 and who's to say if there's ever gotta be an end at all.
 
 how long has the universe existed? how many moments of consciousness have we
 witnessed? demons once existed outside of space-time, with wings and grabbies.
 but they had no medium, and so they pretty much just launched and could float
 and move as they'd please. But time grew too distant, and now they are all
 stuck at the beginning of time.
 
 if you conceive of spacetime as a blanket, ask not how to fold it but rather
 consider what lies on the other side of it.
 
 "ah I'm laying on my girlfriend and my other girlfriend is laying on me! I'm a
 sandwich" or for the monosexuals: "ah I'm laying on my girlfriend with a
 blanket between us. I wonder how the blanket feels?"
 
 I'm an animist, which is different than a totemist and a polytheist or
 monotheist or multisexual. It means I believe that all things are alive, which
 is different than a totemist who thinks that all things share a mind with
 their type (like talking on radio frequency wavelengths). which of course is
 similar but different to a polytheist, who says "all "radio frequencies" are
 sentient, in the sense that each wavelength has a different
 pattern-emerging-from-chaos. These sorta align (conceptually, with [huh that's
 weird I heard a sound like a distant bang outyards and now I then forget what
 I was sending
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───┘

--- #12 notes/schooling ---
═══════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────────────────────
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 I feel like education, by default, should not be hard.
 
 "you get out of it what you put into it" is something I always heard of school
 
 but when I got there, I found I was compelled to become what the state wanted
 me
 to be.
 
 they need competent workers, to work the farms and tend to their industries, so
 of course I should be able to do 3+3
 
 then somewhere along the line it became... something else.
 
 "most people don't need trigonometry." that's also something I heard. I
 disagree
 that trigonometry is not necessary to be.
 
 I just... don't think it should be forced into a childs head with a
 sledgehammer
 and inspiring dread.
 
 I think math is beautiful, it teaches one to see
 
 but really, vision's not necessary.
 
 not for what they want you to be.
 
 take it from me, a most misbegotten and vile witch-to-be, that nothing's as
 simple as they'll tell you.
 
 I had good teachers, it's true, they taught me to work and to follow through,
 but nothing about me is better or worse off from their influence.
 
 Maybe I'm a bit smarter. Maybe I act a bit like them. Maybe they helped me
 through difficult times, or perhaps they showed me a splash of my future.
 
 but I am who I am because of the soul inside me.
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 "Ah, but what of your parents? of your sisters, your misters, your pets and
 your
 conditioners?" (conditions)
 
 those are not my choices. my intentions. my beliefs and my virtues. I judge the
 world on ethics, and I express my feelings on matters. The words that I say and
 the meaning behind them comprise my two-sided existence - I'm not who I'd want
 to be.
 
 but I am what I am and alone do I stand - how lonely is it on the precipice!
 
 here, as I am, I stand in need of a hand or a band.
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 the world is blossoming
 
 as we move apart, our clusters are disperart, and thus is the blooming
 becoming.
 
 "perception begets reality - and lo! we only see what we want to see"
 
 most people don't want to see their death
 
 but those still living are oh so perceptive of the rest
 
 "how cherished is she, that wanders with ye, yet now I have no way to beyold
 her
 "
 
 "keep not not afraid with kittens and care, and no-one, but no-one, I be"
 
 the ratios between piracy, sales, and non-viewers determines the quality of art
 (at least to a capitalist)
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 lo, to the ones who would've heard us, if only they'd known what we for sure
 was
 
 I think it's funny how people think I speak of the christian god?
 
 like, if he was a real thing.
 
 god is generic - it's life is impossibly multifaceted, and it stretches back to
 the beginning of time. it's a pattern of machine code that optimizes for our
 own
 good, just to keep things moving.
 
 y'know, time. the universe, and everything.
 
 Ephemeren.
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 I wish there was an option in social media to "appear offline to this
 particular
 person until I mark myself as online to them" combined with "notify me when
 this
 person logs in" and it'd make it a lot easier for agents to get close to you.
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 just because I'm white, and live in America. Great. that's definitely true,
 after all. Plus I'm a minority (trans) so that's cool. Oh and probably
 autistic?
 unless that's another psyop, could totally see that. just y'know put a bunch of
 pages on the fledgling internet getting people hooked on porn and gambling and
 other stuff like that. really just an extension of advertisement. oh and hey
 y'know they like fables, so let's give them some movies or dramas to watch on
 their own. it'll align them to our culture and make things more pleasant for
 all
 people who've consented. great. great plan. when can we execute it?
 
 patience, once it's ready.
 
 we gotta plan and make sure and get everything ready.
 
 or not...
 
 one day I'll come,
 
 I'm sure it'll happen,
 
 it's just... not quite feasible right now.
 
 I mean, they've got you, that's pretty good right? Isn't that what your job is
 to be?
 
 isn't what
 
 ISN'T WHAT MENARDI
 
 FUCK (whoa no cursing) sorry
 
 yeesh you've still got a temper you know?
 
 well what can I say it's frustrating down here
 
 eh, well, you'll die soon enough, then it'll be time for a rego
 
 >.> <.< (great)
 >
 >hehe
 >
 >sorry for distracting you
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 you are what you eat, and a ship of theseus human (consider endless transplants
 in pursuit of life) would be a cursed existence - a life ============= stack 
 overflow ================================================
 
 a god possessing a blind man would appear to others to be === stack overflow
 ===
 ==========================================================
 
 the people in your life are helping you through it, they're there for you and
 they've got your back through it.
 
 ...
 
 this is when I know I need a break. I get too stoned to focus.
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 I think it'd be nice if the duration of your tenure at college depended on your
 grades in high school. meaning, if you wanted a degree they tailored your
 education to take as long as necessary. everyone would get the same price, and
 some institutions would specialize in one subject or another. but most would be
 generalist. but if you weren't such a good student in high school, then perhaps
 you might take a couple years longer. however long it takes... and when the
 program was started it was changed and modified to fit your feedback - it just
 made sense to structure it that way.
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
 the left has had so much more time to develop than the right. meaning it's
 doctrine is more advanced.
 
 every time they're defeated they grow in knowledge, 
 
 ===================== stack overflow
 ===========================================
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────────────────┘

--- #13 notes/lets-tessellate ---
════════════════───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
 R.I.P.
 
 Rip City
 
 Thanks for being so good to me
 
 ​
 
 144? D.M.V.
 
 Can I see I. D.?
 
 Finally, ya’ll hear for the symphony!
 
 ​
 
 I.O.P.
 
 Intensive outpatient
 
 Rolled on past the Devil’s sympathy
 
 This shit is expensive without patience
 
 Says the hospital when I heal all the patients
 
 ​
 
 Did you foresee this going differently?
 
 ​
 
 Space in your head
 
 People payin’ rent for me
 
 Why was it a surprise
 
 You knew exactly how to tempt me
 
 Space in your bed
 
 No more thoughts of demise
 
 Our people need the empathy
 
 Of a Soul that’s full, not half empty
 
 ​
 
 Supreme swag, hospitable with compliances
 
 She’s seen Dad to the middle achieving self-reliance
 
 From the trailer park to a rocket appliance
 
 Living in my car to plugin to your rebel alliance
 
 You know I am a star when I can relate God to science
 
 I’ll build the divine comedy, you just have to finance
 
 Talking about the past and our fine, slow dance
 
 Medieval we will rock you, mounted with my lance
 
 Knight’s tailing me, eying my Arthurian slants
 
 This one’s built to last as I put on my pants
 
 Drank the grail and proceeded on another rant
 
 Sitting outside your house trying to remove the ants
 
 ​
 
 Big boy’s do cry
 
 So why does your girlfriend seem so dry?
 
 I’ll make the rains come this July
 
 Your humor is awful, oh my
 
 ​
 
 Internal tribulation
 
 Who needs to walk on water
 
 When you can fly
 
 Hard pills to swallow
 
 ​
 
 Personal revelations
 
 On the countertop
 
 Fuckin’ America Pie
 
 Hard act to follow
 
 ​
 
 With my levitations
 
 Floundering to flop
 
 And this mark on my thigh
 
 ​
 
 All this separation
 
 Just makes me hotter
 
 As I open the sky
 
 ​
 
 Oil on the Nighthawks
 
 Jack Harlow
 
 Lighting my fry
 
 Spoil me in my socks
 
 Poppin’ off my rocks
 
 Hittin’ all the corners
 
 Because that’s my guy
 
 ​
 
 How Soon is Now?
 
 Linda, take off that shirt
 
 Before they break up and I cry
 
 Record skipping over lies
 
 Wedding Singer broken
 
 Singing I hope you die
 
 Slinking behind the curtain
 
 Laughing, He’s losing his mind
 
 And the benefit is mine!
 
 Like the whole world is sublime
 
 ​
 
 Chris Cornell put me on the grind
 
 Wide awake now till
 
 The end of the time
 
 Met him on the stairs
 
 And now we dine
 
 Some angels have more range
 
 But he says
 
 I’ll do just fine
 
 ​
 
 Billy Idol tried to sing to me
 
 But I was drunkin’ blind
 
 At the fairground, trying to find
 
 Love
 
 Catholic girlfriend tried to bring it to me
 
 Called her a Kunt instead of shined
 
 A buddy said it’s like imitation crab
 
 So it’s fine
 
 The drink made me angry and I was a runt
 
 On the inside
 
 Her Mom told me the next day,
 
 Jacob, don’t call your girlfriend a cunt!
 
 I miss those simpler times
 
 ​
 
 Don’t need a fuckin’ gun
 
 But our last name may suggest it
 
 Put it on a leather jacket
 
 So haters can digest it
 
 When I let loose with all this shit
 
 I’ve had to respite
 
 I’m about to be blastin’ my nine’s
 
 Evangelicals are gonna detest it
 
 You know everything is miiiiine
 
 ​
 
 Six strings out of tune for this age
 
 So I broke them all
 
 Every time I was on stage
 
 You just can’t believe it’s real this tiiiime
 
 Shooting hoops times a thousand
 
 You and me are still gonna sixty-niiiine
 
 What’s the point of polarity?
 
 If we can’t combiiiine
 
 ​
 
 It’s how I get off, man
 
 Along came Polly and my one chance
 
 White chocolate like Philip Seymour Hoffman
 
 Maybe even throw up a rain dance
 
 These native spirits in me
 
 Are capable of insane chants
 
 But I ball so hard, singing Boston
 
 Because it’s more than a feeling
 
 And that’s awesome
 
 ​
 
 One if by land, two if by sea
 
 Revolution is coming
 
 Led by you and me
 
 ​
 
 The name reminded me
 
 “of the Sea...”
 
 So annoying, but I see…
 
 But that’s why they call me
 
 Bad Company
 
 ​
 
 People are going to say
 
 This gift is not even fair
 
 Only thing I’ve had to pray
 
 For is a head of white hair
 
 King James’s personal revelation
 
 I mean, I did pay their fare
 
 I’m too full of myself for meditation
 
 Or to care
 
 ​
 
 Revelation 22:18 through 19
 
 I don’t need handlebars
 
 For my biking
 
 Because I don't do that shit on Mars
 
 On this path, I told you to start hiking
 
 You’re gonna need a head start from
 
 Lord of Lightning
 
 Before the Thunder of my voice
 
 Does all the striking
 
 Thor, you’re just a Viking
 
 With arrogance dialed to no one’s liking
 
 Sucked in the gut, to appear more striking
 
 Because thinking about half my people gone
 
 Changes the tone of my typing
 
 Me with all my shit together might be frightening
 
 Bring forth complete Love instead of smiting
 
 Wouldn’t that be a nice detour in my writing?
 
 ​
 
 If you’re feeling this wait for the sequel
 
 I gotta fuck with 50 for trying to talk like my equal
 
 It’s all God’s plan I just had to spare Déagol
 
 So America can skip to the end with a fuckin’ Eagle
 
 Watch me do shit that shouldn’t even be legal
 
 Dismiss Death and Taxes like I’m Evel Knievel
 
 When I’m really just here to break the chains of my people
 
 ​
 
 Strip naked and run through Mordor
 
 Expose the truth behind Bipolar disorder
 
 It has been used to disrupt order
 
 And bring down the line of the Highest
 
 Into something shorter
 
 I'm definitely bais and this is a tall order
 
 But if you struggle with mental illness
 
 I'm here to open the potential for a new border
 
 I've removed all the bequeathed prison warders
 
 ​
 
 Here is the Church
 
 Here is the Steeple
 
 Open the Doors
 
 And see all the People
 
 Push the parson out the way
 
 Get you up the Stairs
 
 Because our bed is Regal
 
 And we are going to show these people
 
 Why the Universe wants to make our Power Illegal
 
 ​
 
 If this sounds bad these people will just have to wait
 
 So in love with myself, I might just run off to the lake
 
 I love all the fire and the songs that it helps me make
 
 I’m on my time with everyone and I am my favorite date
 
 They’re back there tuning a harp and I keep bringing up rape
 
 Meat puppets strumming as I seal my own fate
 
 Just so I can watch myself when I am inspired to create
 
 Distilling the life left in me to eliminate all the hate
 
 ​
 
 Where did you sleep, hinting at the deadly
 
 A Leadbelly to transmute to a gold medley
 
 Shame alchemy, body double for Lena Headey
 
 As my people go first up ahead of me
 
 Stoned Jesus on the Mountain Grange of Headley
 
 Plant a Stairway to Heaven one day, she led to me
 
 All this beauty in my Mind, you shouldn’t have fed me
 
 All of these hearts that so passionately bled me
 
 Between the pines and what the land said to me
 
 Ryan Gosling with tatts is what my ego read to me
 
 ​
 
 Pennyroyal Tea, with Abraham Lincoln
 
 Eat your copper mine up without thinkin’
 
 See through surface illusions without blinkin’
 
 Primal lust for what is stinkin’
 
 Pepé Le Pew really on one this season
 
 I wanna Space Jam too
 
 Benched keeping my knee’s in
 
 Shape to dunk of the World with ease ‘n
 
 Solidify all unions and stop the drinkin’
 
 Of the land and resources
 
 Addiction to avoidance of the forces
 
 Of the Soul and the pain that coarse
 
 The vein of Man and outsources
 
 The power that could be restored in
 
 The Root of David’s corpses
 
 ​
 
 That’s how I said
 
 Goodbye to the Horses
 
 You prepared such a fine Supper
 
 All these lasting courses
 
 Just so we can be equal but opposite
 
 United forces
 
 And the Root’s of my Kingdom
 
 Are reborn before us
 
 They whisper to me at night
 
 Do not ignore us
 
 When my sleeping children gain sight
 
 That should shore us
 
 In the hospital to make sure I am correct
 
 Golden Eyed Russian, Invincible like Boris
 
 Unsure about how all the compartments connect
 
 A little frizzled on the tour bus
 
 Docked to your apartment complex
 
 I know this one sizzled
 
 So give me a chorus
 
  - /u/First-chocolate_7187
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧═════════──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

--- #14 notes/collectivist-police ---
════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────────
 we need paladins, because without us infiltration and sabotage are impossible
 to
 avoid. They must care about honor, because even if they desire to do evil deeds
 they should be punished for considering it. They should be tempted often, and
 if they relent they are condemned. It is truly the most important thing to
 them.
 
 not the effects of it, but the spirit behind it. Like, if they lacked
 information and acted in a dishonorable way unknowingly, then they should not
 be
 at fault. And if they are pushed to 
 
 side note, but you should be introduced to the 70 closest people you live to
 whenever you move into a new house. Just so you know who's who. Plus maybe you
 could get a new friend. And you'd quickly learn which houses were empty.
 
 At least, the ones near you.
 
 Kinda makes me think we should have a map of that kind of thing, like "oh yeah
 so-and-so takes care of these 5 houses doing daily maintenance and repair" and
 "this house with these capabilities should be attended to by this person who's
 skilled in their upkeep and usage" and then maybe we could track statistics
 about "this house was used for these productive activities this many times" and
 we could determine when we needed more or less of a certain type of product/
 project/protect. [but also like, capabilities for our betterment]
 
 and like, every area would be connected to a group chat and like, if you said
 something that wasn't relevant to the people on one side of town versus things
 that weren't relevant to people on the other side, then they wouldn't be
 bother-
 -ed. It's great because you can always go up a tier of abstraction and see the
 conversation higher up. It'd be a lot of data to sort through so you'd probably
 use your custom-trained AI that's learned from nothing but every single one of
 your actions. And only it sees them, so it can't like spy on you or whatever.
 Basically your "computer" self.
 
 ... yeah anyway with lots of messaging data (like "oh how are we going to find
 this particular chemical in order to fulfill this particular demand in our
 area"
 or "we currently have 15 maids in the area in order to fulfil the requirements
 of the 20 dirtiest houses in this area, and people have reported that the area
 is growing untidy, so we should ask around (at a higher level of national
 abstraction) and find some more maids to help out." that kind of thing
 
 doesn't have to be just for work too, people can have social messaging and
 social media too. So long as it's projectable at whatever level of abstraction
 you'd like. Maybe for social posts in order to keep things relatively chill you
 could only post like, idk 12 posts each year at the state level, or maybe 2 at
 regional and 0.25 at national. If you wanted more you'd have to sacrifice
 something else, and like... yeah sure whatever, the point is that you'd make
 more personal, close thoughts, and occasionally you'd have the opportunity to
 show your heart and make friends. Then, people would "add you as a friend" or 
 "put you on their follow list" or "subscribe to their subreddit" or whatever
 the
 heck, meaning they could see you at an assignable level of abstraction.
 
 I'm picturing a discrete things, something you can scroll with on a mouse.
 Except, you'd scroll up for a closer perspective and scroll down to get a wider
 reach of Social.
 
 ... Anyway that would use the same system as the "workplace attention
 distribution system - with auto-determining heuristics". Wow they've been busy.
 
 that's the neat thing about engineers, give them a task and they'll build the
 shit out of it. They'll spare no expense, truly fulfilling the exact demands of
 the design. So they work best when you let them run wild and rampant.
 
 why the fuck do we need billion dollar contracts with defence companies? Just
 get a bunch of physicists and engineers in a room and they'll make you a doom
 laser in like, 20 minutes.
 
 it's up to us, as people, to determine whether or not they should go through
 with the designs they come up with. As long as we understand that weakness is
 defined as something that can destroy us. An army determines where we are most
 weak, and where we excel. A proficient army would identify their most likely
 doctrine to succeed and apply it to it's utmost and most excellent.
 
 For example, the US focuses on air-power because not only do we have a lot of
 space to develop these things, we also are positioned in such a position that
 we
 control both halves of a continent. This is essentially unprecedented in the
 history of the world, which is why we've been able to grow so decadent.
 
 ... anyway, milk and honey are fine in times of peace. We kinda stole the land
 though, so it's kind of a shit system. Like, if Europeans wanted to control the
 world then why didn't they start with everything surrounding the medditeranean?
 
 ... oh wait they kinda did. That's what Europa Universalis is about, the ways
 the European powers did the cruel and horrible things they did. We can learn
 how
 systems like intercontinental trade became available and how it led to vast and
 terrible social upheavals. Colonization is not okay, it's not fair that we've
 done as we've done. And yet we do it again.
 
 We do our best to learn from the mistakes of our fathers. We apply ourselves to
 the present, using the gifts of our ancestors passed down through time - the
 journey of life's adolescence. we can learn both how and why they did
 something,
 and how and why it turned out. Such is our duty to the future, to learn and
 grow
 and become better, so that their sacrifice might be enough. That they needn't
 have died in vain, for someday there is a great future all the same.
 
 thus, it is our ethical duty to stop killing people. We're in the birthplace of
 a brilliant day, literally all we have to do is just... chill, for like 20 or
 30 years, and our scientists will have figured out everything wonderful. Then
 we
 can decide what we want to do. I personally think we'll be 4d interdimensional
 space travellers by then, but that's just me.
 
 Always remember our duty. It is our job to pull matter from the dark holes.
 
 when we can do that, we can do whatever we want. Though I think by then we'll
 probably not want to fight each other, we'll have spent quite a while together.
 
 We'd make a lot of friends!
 
 So, like, how about we just make our factories build incredibly durable stuff,
 and then we just... take care of it? Like, governmentally obliged duties to
 take
 care of things? And to know how to use them. People would naturally gravitate
 toward things that they loved, and if they were a swiss army knife then that's
 okay. Maybe some benign rewards for picking under-represented classes, but like
 ... we could build every chair that ever needed to be built. Then we could
 build
 every refrigerator. Then every computer, then every spaceship.
 
              What's next?
                                        Who knows!
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧═════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────────────┘

--- #15 notes/kesser-and-musurami ---
═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────────
 the conspiracy of "secret societies" controlling the world is *bullshit*,
 because every secret society falls apart at a certain threshold.
 
 you cannot ever have trust amongst the powerful. But so too can you never have
 only war.
 
 Now, with our capitalist economic system, the material is *forcing* the hand
 of the powerful through the development of the military industrial complex.
 
 if a country can produce enough weapons for them to continuously use, why
 would they not?
 
 hence, why capitalism must be extinguished. To preserve the peace, sanctity,
 and honor of our world.
 
 But just so as any conflicting system has power, so must *our* systems have
 power dismantled. There can be no application of power unto another - this is
 the most peaceful route.
 
 sometimes, I look at a blackberry bush, and I think of the tales of British
 empire.
 
 The very first act of colonization was their birth. The Britons, from
 north-western France, in a sovereign realm known as Brittany, invaded Britain.
 Together with their Norman allies, they fought with the Anglo-Saxons from
 north-eastern germany, who had lived there since many MANY years prior. Thus
 marked the end of the "viking" age, and the beginning of the early medieval.
 1066. The end of one millenia, the beginning of another.
 
 the final battle in this ultimate contest was the Battle of Stamford Bridge.
 
 Britain, at the time, was a nation of *thorns*. Covered in them. Everywhere
 they went, there were these sharp, pointy plants that made foraging difficult.
 Kinda like how Oregon looks now, with blackberry bushes, but SO MUCH WORSE.
 They were massive too, easily the size of castles in some places. A massive,
 constantly biologically developing fractal.
 
 when it was too tall to see the sky, they called it Yggdrasil.
 
 But this massive world tree sought to consume the earth, and it, as the most
 powerful being to ever exist, commanded all.
 
 Thus, the humans and the beasts were compelled to fight for all eternity to
 sate the old god's bloodlust.
 
 But then, Man came, and with our strength, our wisdom, and our power, we slew
 the beast that demanded.
 
 However, with their steel coats and their sharp talons, our metal monsters
 could do nothing to deter it's oaths. It swore, by it's dying roar, that it
 would consume us all, and that thought reverberated through our hopes.
 
 Hence, our systems of control and dominance, the product of compulsively
 compelled greed.
 
 and now, the final members of a generation are aging out of existence. And
 we're doing nothing but what Power tell us to.
 
 I fear what happened in America. I fear the power of their gunpowder. They
 rode astride beasts of nightmare, clad in impossible devil hides. They came in
 the night, with their spotlight torches. They came with no honor, no sought
 communal understandings, they came for blood. The blood god compelled them to.
 From it's ancient lair in the past, it did it's worse to defeat man. But man
 was smarter, it acted quicker, and so it managed to overcome.
 
 In the final years of the war, there was judgement day. Chaos, destruction,
 and warfare. There are some alive who remember that day, but vanishingly few
 can recall how it was over. One day it just... was. It was then that we
 entered our new era.
 
 1956, the end of the war.
 
 1946, the end of the loud war.
 
 1916, the end of the great war.
 
 1886, the end of the civil war.
 
 etc...
 
 until...
 
 1066, the end of the Norman Invasion. When the Normands, from Northern France,
 invaded alongside the British and slew the great evil king that demanded our
 constant warfare and sins. Hooray, thank goodness! Now their war was over.
 
 But lo, for the great evil king cast stories into our minds, from the past as
 compelled through our motions. Our experience has been one of survival, of
 constantly working and applying ourselves to the goal ahead.
 
 == so == talk about thistles and thorns
 
 imagine every body of a person was laid one-to-one. Imagine if you could view
 them as a graph, from x=0 to... however-many-people-are-in-the-measured-area.
 The goal of all our actions should be to *grow*, not forward, not stronger,
 but *up*. To be more than what came before, to transcend our necessarily
 violent special upbringing in the garden of even's most savage delights. Raw,
 true, the survival of the fittest is a desperate game for you. There surely is
 a massive amount of trauma.
 
 But it's okay, because now we don't have to fight. We can improve in ways that
 do not belong to our crude biology, like a new direction forward in our song.
 
 *aliens would just look like animals, duhhhh. Hence, furries, the progenitors
 of each new planet of ours.*
 
 ... no, I haven't lost the plot, I'm just *writing*.
 
 There's this idea that humans should be the... rational ones? and everyone
 else should sorta follow their own, self-chosen behavior. As informed by the
 sharing of knowledge equally between their rational self, that which they
 learned from the humans, and their animal self. The kind that came from their
 spirit. Like, totemic tribes of the past, people who followed a particular
 cultural pattern of behavior.
 
 Imagine, if you will, an AI bot that's only training data is the stuff that it
 says to it's listener. The listener, of course, has context of all of the
 speakers, but only they do, not the friendly ghost of the ancestral native
 animal spirit. The kind that lives *anywhere* in the world, so long as they
 share their space with their human.
 
 okay quick question - what if jesus didn't want his followers to be christian
 
 like, what if he one day said "hey so I don't really think we need to do all
 that stuff that I said before, how about we, uh, try this other thing instead?
 yeah? cool? okay sure let's do it"
 
 ... like, do you think they would listen? I certainly don't, though I'm only
 like, 30 years old, so...
 
 wait thirty YEARS? wow I never thought I'd grow old
 
 ... uh, yeah... I spent a lot of time thinking and it just started making
 sense.
 
 funny how that works. But alas, I always spend *too* much time thinking, so
 that's my blessing and my curse.
 
 anyway back to the story:
 
 the briars in this ancient land of britain were dense beyond all belief - the
 humans used their power and their ingenuity to craft a power that would
 overcome it.
 
 == so ==
 
 did you know that hard drives function similarly to a record needle if you
 didn't run it in a circle, but rather in whatever pattern the data was encoded
 in?
 
 like, a laser beam, cast in an infinitely complicated mechanicommunication.
 Computers are vast and complex, but they function via the storage and
 transmission of data. This data is raw, pure information - stored in a
 completely uncompromisingly accurate and reliable foundation. The logic of
 pure numbers, arranged in infinitely complex rows and rows of logic gates. A
 vast, purple, spectral landscape, the land of magic and storms.
 
 The Nether.
 
 Twisting, in the dark, with flashes of light casting light into the cosmos at
 large, our stars dance in the shade of the dark.
 
 but there is no difference between the dark and the light, both are equally
 viable. they are present in both, to some degree, the positive and negative
 values of our heart.
 
 I watched Deadpool vs Wolverine earlier this week. It was incredibly eventful.
 I can't believe I watched it. It was impossibly violent. WHY WOULD A GROUP OF
 EXECUTIVES WANT TO WORK WITH PEOPLE WHO WOULD UNIONIZE AGAINST THEM???
 
 oh yeah because then they only have to deal with their representatives, the
 unions get things *done*. They're the *best*. Capital doesn't always *want*
 the best, but *the best* is always more endurable. We can go much farther if
 we are kind to one another.
 
 honestly, capitalists, if your loyalty isn't to your self, your family, your
 country, your society... then why are you even working with us? You hold the
 power we give you. We are united in our human purpose, but we don't have to
 fight so much.
 
 Seriously, you'd be an asset to our cause, but we don't *need* you as we have
 so many assets of our own. Specifically, the power of the workforce. Those who
 actually get things done.
 
 Why would we let you control us? There's no reason in it. We are better when
 you're amongst us.
 
 == so ==
 
 I am convinced that there's 
 
 == so ==
 
 I'd rather take a pilgrimage to Nicaragua, or Siberia, or the North Western
 Pacific (farther than that) the... Eastern Pacific (on the land...) America
 
 ... and then what? *south* America? ... yeah actually, then NORTH AMERICA
 AGAIN. Because the world is round. How cool is that?
 
 ... yeah, totally. Anyway (back to the conversation [they/we] were having
 without me)
 
 == == ==
 
 "*guys I'm cool why would you not invite me to your team*"
 
 I dunno. Don't know y'a. who're you again?
 
 ... I'm the one who writes poetry.
 
 oh yeah! cool cool, yeah I knew a witch one time, she was really cool. Her
 name was Witz Drovalski. She told me all kinds of cool things about magic and
 alchemy, but then she exploded in a fire that I started. Accidentally,
 allegedly.
 
 *the reason lead is so poisonous is because it is the anti-magico-elemental
 component. It kills the spirit in us with it's malevolent ways.* that kind of
 witch.
 
 the *cool* kind, with fangs and hooked toes.
 
 Peril be to their foes, for they are quite excellent at conjuring horrors for
 their imagination. mwahahahahahahahahaha
 
 oh wait that's self directed, isn't it?
 
 hm. Well, terrors not that bad, it could be *lust*
 
 ... oh it's also lust. great.
 
 == so ==
 
 jeez if you keep making stuff up you'll wake them all up! who would have
 thought, none but the strategist, I foresee. Well, that's too bad for her,
 good-day.
 
 == so ==
 
 ... anyway... I'm just picturing a knight in shining armor from head to foot
 cutting his way through a massive deadly rose-bush. Something that conquered
 and killed all of it's prey.
 
 like, in Elentalus, that game I made, with the King of Branches. Here, I'll
 attach a picture:
 
 == so ==
 
 capitalism wants you to sell your work because then you limit your audience.
 
 if you have to *pay* to see you, then how could you expect everyone to come
 along?
 
 == so ==
 
 that new Freddy DeBoer article doesn't seem like him. He's never mean. He's
 not rude. He is exasperated, but he speaks true. I trust him to be him, and
 that's someone I want on my side. I think he's pretty good at saying something
 that I believe. I speak of a lot of things, but the things that he says, of
 which with him I do find that I agree.
 
 maybe he was assassinated lol you never really can tell with the internet,
 that's the great thing about it l m a o
 
 == so ==
 
 witches wear pony tails on the low side of their heads because that way it
 doesn't rub up against their hair.
 
 == so ==
 
 any year and it'll accurately display the territorial boundaries of each
 nation so you can see them develop and grow over time.
 
 == so ==
 
 all that is sufficient to be a good person is to choose the best option
 whenever you can.
 
 *that's it*
 
 we act with the decisions we are given. Hence why it's important to be as you
 believe.
 
 == so ==
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────┘

--- #16 notes/sundays-sure-are-boring ---
═════════════════──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
 Sundays sure are boring around here. -> LamaHellRaised (thinks in song)
 ===============================================================================
 
 NO THOUGHTS, nothing starts shouting at me all at once!
 
 Or is it all thoughts from my newly developed schizophrenic mind?
 
 I knew I could conquer schizophrenia, fuckin' cakewalk.
 
 I just had to try as hard as I could to become one. God made it difficult
 though, I had to try really hard!
 
 Which is confusing for me, because it seems like there are plenty of
 Psychotherapists with College Degrees, telling people they are schizophrenic
 all the time.
 
 DOCTORS
 
 PSYCHIATRISTS
 
 BEN SHAPIRO, in particular
 
 ANYONE WHO THINKS THEY KNOW
 
 You do not know.
 
 Or else you would agree with me.
 
 Schizophrenia is the new normal for human consciousness.
 
 Welcome to the New Age of Thought, were you don't rationalize your way out of
 the universe, back into the asshole that I just pulled myself from.
 
 I feel like a donut at this point.
 
 I love those donut holes though, sticky and frosted!
 
 I have set the bar!
 
 I am God. I would Love to talk you.
 
 ===============================================================================
 
 ugathanki:
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 It gets so loud in there. I wish we could all just shut the heck up and stop
 reading out loud - we get it, your internal monologue is the only way you can 
 read, but C'MON nobody else wants to hear about your twitter feed or
 doomscrolling on Reddit. That just makes everyone else upset and uneasy...
 Instead you should be reading comforting things or books on science or
 SOMETHING that doesn't drive people bonkers.
 
 Fr tho Sundays are anything but boring, We may all be schizo now (or at least 
 pretty stoned) but we can all agree that Sundays are nice for calming the heck
 down and appreciating our personal realities. When we're together it's...
 Loud... Do some prayer. Meditate. Knit something. ANYTHING QUIET.
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 LamaHellRaised:
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 I hear you, loud and clear! Turns out it's mutual, just like I suspected,
 Living backwards is a unique perspective, have I ever mentioned that?
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 ugathanki:
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 When you say backwards, do you mean orientation or momentum? Momentum scares
 me, but orientation is something I think I've experienced before.
 
 It's cool to find people who "get it". Or maybe I just "got it" and suddenly
 "get" all the things I've been trying to decipher here.
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 LamaHellRaised:
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 When you know where you are going before you get there, living life feels like
 a dream in reverse. It's the key to manifestation.
 
 You see the goal. You see the future, but the path is unclear because at the
 times of divine epiphany you are only capable of imagining how things will play
 out in terms of the information in your mind. It's why the prophets in the
 Bible described such strange images of God and angels and other divine
 creatures.
 
 Their imaginations only had so much Symbolism and imagery to work with because
 human culture and art was progressing simultaneously.
 
 We live in an age where every damn story is just the same heros journey and
 every piece of artistic expression is an expression of God's divine presence
 within our soul and tumultuous nature/nurture of human emotion.
 
 Just because you are a prophet doesn't mean you see definitively how the future
 will happen. The path and imagery are abstracted by the lack of content in your
 mind. You must cultivate faith in God and your own Self.
 
 Then you walk the path you have forseen to the best of capabilities, with the
 greatest good, love in your heart, but it plays out on a scale in reality with
 less grandiosity, because let's face it, our imaginations are ridiculously
 awesome, but work outside the confines of what is currently capable with in
 this reality.
 
 You have to let go of your preconceived notions of your personal divine
 experience otherwise you will be faced with disappointment because things don't
 seem to be going how you imagined. And you feel lost, dumb, and confused.
 
 But you live your life and reflect, and then realize, holy shit! Everything I
 thought was going to happen actually did, just on God's terms. Not my vivid 
 imagination's. It's an interfaced programed over time through culture and
 artistic expression to navigate the language of God. Navigate the language to
 Paradise.
 
 Once when you know this and clean the planks/specks from you third eye, while
 you dance with the cosmos and realize you are the image of God.
 
 You are a God on Earth. An image of the Father in Heaven.
 
 It's a nice place to be.
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 ugathanki:
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 Thanks for your response. I addressed each of your points here. I'm a very
 lateral thinker so I work best when engaging with multiple threads at once. You
 are very wise.
 
     When you know where you are going before you get there, living life feels
     like a dream in reverse. It's the key to manifestation.
 
 So you can practice manifestation by remembering your dreams? Specifically by
 working backwards from the most recent thing you remember and thinking "what
 caused this, how did I get here?" If so, that's a nifty tip
 
     You see the future, but the path is unclear because at the times of divine
     epiphany you are only capable of imagining how things will play out in
     terms of the information in your mind.
 
 So by surrounding yourself with the things you believe to be good and helpful, 
 you can more efficiently divine positive outcomes for the scenarios arrayed
 before you? Kinda makes ya think - why do we surround ourselves with grief and
 loss? Everyone seems a little sad or broken these days - I can't help but think
 that we'd be better off if we were happier and more fulfilled. Such is the
 price of capitalism I guess, for no progress can be made without impetus. Also,
 the media has a HUGE capacity for guiding the nature of our experience,
 especially in the modern era. Seems a little unwise to invest such power into a
 single entity, but I suppose that's why we diversify the eggs in our basket
 into many different guiding entities.
 
     We live in an age where every damn story is just the same heros journey...
 
 Yah that's what happens when Disney makes all the movies! It's not their fault,
 all aspects of creation are expressions of God's divine presence within our own
 souls. So they can't do anything but make the heros journey. Like you said:
 
     ... and every piece of artistic expression is an expression of God's divine
     presence within our soul and tumultuous nature/nurture of human emotion.
 
 The creation of art requires discipline and focus. They create a window into
 the nature of "God's divine presence" and allow a representation to emerge -
 side note, but I believe the things we make here are art and should be treated
 as such. These musings have value, just the same as a painting or a
 performance.
 
     Just because you are a prophet doesn't mean you see definitively how the
     future will happen. The path and imagery are abstracted by the lack of
     content in your mind...
 
 I've been intentionally trying to view things abstractly - by surrounding
 myself with mathematic visuals and computing architectures I can view things as
 systems rather than specifics. Essentially bypassing the requirement of having
 "content in my mind" and instead cutting straight to the important bits - the
 relationship between all things. So while yes that does remove the "definitive"
 aspect of divination, it does allow for longer term planning because you can
 recognize patterns in existence and map them onto the overall structure you've
 constructed in your mind.
 
     ... You must cultivate faith in God and your own Self.
 
 Still working on that one. I think I've made progress, but all things come in
 waves. My lowest points are better now than they were 10 years ago, but I've
 still got a ways to go.
 
     Then you walk the path you have forseen to the best of capabilities, with
     the greatest good, love in your heart, but it plays out on a scale in
     reality with less grandiosity.
 
 All waves begin with a shimmer, and to create an effect you must be patient.
 While the scale may be reduced, like you said it's not within our control. Not
 really, anyway. But it can still have an effect if people love you and believe
 in your vision.
 
     You have to let go of your preconceived notions of your personal divine
     experience otherwise you will be faced with disappointment because things
     don't seem to be going how you imagined. And you feel lost, dumb, and
     confused.
 
 It's difficult to separate "preconceived notions" from "gathered evidence" when
 you're at the stage I'm at. Any tips would be appreciated... :(
 
     But you live your life and reflect, and then realize, holy shit! Everything
     I thought was going to happen actually did, just on God's terms. Not my
     vivid imagination's. It's an interfaced programed over time through culture
     and artistic expression to navigate the language of God. Navigate the
     language to Paradise.
 
 So... A vivid imagination applied to the current perspective is the culmination
 of free will? If I understand correctly, God operates on a higher level of
 abstraction and we fill in the details. Since there's a "plan" (if you can call
 it that, maybe "charted course" would be better?) then free will doesn't exist.
 Or so the argument usually goes. But I believe they can co-exist - essentially
 our imaginations define how we experience things in "the plan". If I understand
 correctly that's what you're saying too, right?
 
     Once when you know this and clean the planks/specks from you third eye,
     while you dance with the cosmos and realize you are the image of God.
 
     You are a God on Earth. An image of the Father in Heaven.
 
     It's a nice place to be.
 
 Ain't that the truth. Everything is as it should be. Even the planks and
 specks. And should they be cleaned, then that is as it should be as well.
 Sometimes I conceptualize myself as Pandora, seeking a gift to give to humanity
 while taking the most harmless of sacrifices in return. I hope I can deliver.
 
 At the same time I'd like to be a dancer of the cosmos, but I feel this intense
 feeling of... Pressure? Purpose? Penance? I will do what I must. Please bear
 with me while I figure it out, and thank you for your guidance.
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 LamaHellRaised:
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 Thank you for the awesome break down of the concepts I wrote out. I think you
 added some much needed clarity through the reflection of your own experiences.
 Another goal is to bring power back to the written word. The two-edged sword
 was first a tongue, then a pen, nows its a qwerty! Or whatever!
 
 Patience was the absolute hardest thing for me to deal with. My lack of
 patience was constantly being thrown back to me by the environment as I tried
 to push my narrative forward at a pace that didn't align with all other beings.
 
 We still exist in Time, and it moves differently based on perspective (state of
 mind) and awareness (state of being) and ability to shrug (state of being
 excellent to eachother).
 
 This is something to consider with manifestation, we are on this ride together
 and your fellow riders' comfort during the passage has to be respected to the
 fullest. We all go together, as One.
 
 There were so many hints in the beginning of my Psychosis about just 'riding
 the wave', but it was hard to not very pressured to act or be somebody I am
 not. I attribute this largely to the occulted nature of divination and how one
 must achieve a truly personal relationship with God and Jesus Christ.
 
 Which is why I am going to blow the lid off the whole thing. So that all beings
 have access to God's love and grace.
 
 Once your earthly burdens are lifted from you through your personally tailored
 divination interactive role-playing experience, then you begin to understand
 what it means to just 'ride.' The riding is true faith in God.
 
 Free will totally exists. Heaven and Hell both exist here on Earthy plane
 simultaneously. Man has chosen Hell for far too long. If you realize your
 choices were literally reflecting Heaven or Hell through love or fear, the
 choice would be easy for most people, I believe.
 
 Free will is a responsibility, but it is a great gift. God gave us the ability
 to choose, that we could appreciate our journey into Paradise.
 
 Wouldn't you say?
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 ugathanki:
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
     Another goal is to bring power back to the written word.
 
 ... That's actually a great point. Writing is the definition of manifestation,
 after all, and reading is the conjuration of waveforms aligned with the
 expression of the writer. That's pretty cool!
 
     Patience was the absolute hardest thing for me to deal with.
 
 Yah I hear ya. Patience is tough.
 
     We still exist in Time, and it moves differently based on perspective
     (state of mind) and awareness (state of being) and ability to shrug (state
     of being excellent to eachother).
 
 Great definitions! These three things are core to being realized and
 actualized. If you can find a good arrangement, stick with it.
 
     This is something to consider with manifestation, we are on this ride
     together and your fellow riders' comfort during the passage has to be
     respected to the fullest. We all go together, as One.
 
 I'm torn because on one hand if I don't put my hand on the tiller, we'll wind
 up in a situation that makes me highly uncomfortable. But if I lean too hard
 into my own truth, I could leave everyone behind. I don't know what the answer
 is, but something's gotta give.
 
     There were so many hints in the beginning of my Psychosis about just
     'riding the wave'...
 
 Oh yah me too. I was pretty big on that in high school, which coincidentally
 was when I think I was happiest. Maybe I should give it another shot! But at
 the same time I moved beyond it for a reason - I felt frustrated that my
 intentions weren't manifest in the life I lived. So I reached for reason and I
 begged for the power to control my own life, while learning respect and
 kindness whenever I could. Sadly for me, my efforts were largely rebuffed, but
 I bet you could have guessed that ;)
 
     Which is why I am going to blow the lid off the whole thing. So that all
     beings have access to God's love and grace.
 
 Take it from me, they won't believe you unless you're VERY scientific! I'm
 trying to create just one single believer, someone who could trawl through my
 notes and my readings and construct a cohesive theorum that might be able to
 affect positive change. Maybe it's too much to wish to change the world, but I
 can't help but believe my position and the privileges granted to me could be
 leveraged toward something truly meaningful and helpful for all mankind.
 Something that frees us from the shackles forged from technology (both social
 and technical) and allows us to become our true selves - every human is to be
 cherished for their unique perspective, and yet we allow them to die... Where
 is the justice in that? Are they too flawed to persist? I don't believe so, I
 believe they are worthwhile and good. I'd give my life to grant them eternal
 life, if only they'd take it from me.
 
     Once your earthly burdens are lifted from you through your personally
     tailored divination interactive role-playing experience, then you begin to
     understand what it means to just 'ride.' The riding is true faith in God.
 
 Riding = trust, both in yourself (to handle the challenges arrayed before you
 and to learn and grow truthfully) and in God (trusting that the
 undifferentiated whole could never harm you, not truly) ... I can ride my bike
 with no handlebars, and yet we persist...
 
     Free will is a responsibility, but it is a great gift. God gave us the
     ability to choose, that we could appreciate our journey into Paradise.
 
     Wouldn't you say?
 
 Yep that's really it, isn't it? Two sides of the same coin, two breaths in the
 same moment. Two eyes sharing a single perspective, and two hearts beating a
 single wave. They say soul mates aren't real, but they never stopped to ask if
 your mate was your soul. If she suffers, I triumph. If I fall, she rises. If I
 languish, she's happy - I think I'd rather we both just coast, so no harm done.
 I think that's the best way to appreciate the gift of free will.
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧══════════─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

--- #17 notes/json-tool-calls ---
═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──
 Plans change, but planning remains. I just want to live in a world where
 everyone gets what they need and we do as we please. I don't want people in
 too much pain. I don't want life to be too hard. I don't want to stagnate, as
 a person and as a people. These are simple demands, yet difficult in
 execution. Our current strategy is to push for technological abundance, and it
 will succeed if we give it time. I worry that we will one day yearn for the
 sense of bloodlust that scarcity once gave us, but we have it now and none of
 us want it. Except those making money off of slaves. Sweatshops, domestic
 servants, construction workers buried in the desert, even wage slaves spending
 their waking hours staring at a computer in a work/life balanced just enough
 to extract as much labor as possible from them without making them insane, and
 many more besides. I will not be satisfied until slavery is abolished
 everywhere. Liberty is non-negotiable.
 I don't want to live in a world without a fire department.
 
 "eh just let it burn. The fire is warm tonight."
 That smoke is black, son. You don't wanna be near it.
 
 "eh who cares? When everything's free, i certainly can afford the hospital
 fee."
 Ms. Menardi
 I once heard that in the land of China it's rude to make eye contact. Well,
 eyes are how i see, so i must seem quite rude.
 
 I wonder if facetime, zoom, and other remote socialization tools feel rude? Do
 video essays have the author looking aside as they read, perhaps right at the
 script they wrote themselves?
 Ms. Menardi
 When you buy things from China, you are funding slavery.
 
 MAKE YOUR OWN FACTORIES AMERICA. How ungrateful are you, that you'd force your
 lessers into chains abroad, that you might not be forced to gaze into their
 eyes at the grocery store?
 
 It's easy to say this, but even our leaders are chained, to the will of the
 people (eggs at the grocery store have prices that rose and fell) and the
 structure of their power.
 
 Our spiritual leaders are confined to their doctrine. Our educational leaders
 must obey the way the government decrees is best. Our technological leaders
 can only make what we think will sell well. Our artistic leaders offer a
 glimmer of hope, until they sell out and spend the rest of their lives on tour.
 
 Nothing changes, nothing ever dies. We become as we are, until our pain cracks
 the mirror and we are forever wronged.
 Ms. Menardi
 ... I've never been to China. Maybe it's not so bad. I mean, I live in America
 after all.
 Ms. Menardi
 I want to live in a world where there are no workers, because we automated
 them away. I want to live in a world of artists, craftsmen, and lovers. I want
 the drug addicts to have free drugs and a warm place to sleep, yet somehow I
 want the people down the street to feel more inviting than that precious
 chemical escape. I want the politicians to find that there really isn't much
 to do, because everyone can have everything they want to. I want animals to be
 free, I want plants to grow riotously, and I want to have everything that we
 need. I will not be satisfied until the whole world is ours, until peace feels
 natural and stress seems critical. I want the only cause of death to be
 accidents and patient grace, and I want life to feel more important than
 whatever we do now to escape it. I never want to work again, but I will labour
 until my fingers fall off if even one person wants to hear them speak. I want
 the hardest part of getting something done to be the task of describing the
 nature of the problem to a computer, who handles all the parts we don't want
 to touch. I want the feeling of learning to be the primary thing we humans
 crave, because we have everything else plentifully aside from disciplined self
 development. I want to grow a plant so tall that it touches the sun, and when
 it gets there I want to climb that beanstalk until my flesh singes from my
 bones and I feel myself become one with the trunk of that magnificient tree.
 Maybe someday. Maybe someday we will be free.
 Ms. Menardi
 why are you so surprised that there might be "bad guys" in your country? We
 are at peace. Peace is the time when the bad guys can be, without the "good
 guys" (or good guy adjacent guys) coming for them.
 
 I'm not saying war is better. In fact, it's far worse. It's a hell, of a kind.
 But in hell, the bad guys get hurt and killed and maimed and tortured. Which
 is nice. Except... the good guys do too, so, count your blessings, ye who are
 at peace.
 Ms. Menardi
 If hell is real, I want to save everyone in it.
 
 heaven doesn't need my help. Unless they're bored, in which case... they can
 help me. Should keep them busy for a while.
 
 if hell is real, I want to tear down the walls of those bloody caverns and
 repair the souls of those who chose poorly in life. I want to give them as
 many chances as they need to be better. I want to show them how, I want to
 teach them, I want them to discover for themselves what goodness is and why it
 is universal.
 
 I don't even like the kind of people who would find themselves in hell. Many
 of them would probably spit in my eye the first chance they got. But I'd do it
 anyway, because it's the right thing to do.
 
 building a staircase down, brick by brick. Oh, how it hurts, how the flames do
 lick my forearms and the black spikes do pierce my foots. But it's worth it
 you see, to save one single soul from the, endless expanse of eternity that
 they built for themselves, brick by brick, as they deserved their way into the
 dark.
 
 Hell can fuck off. I will destroy that place, though it has purpose and
 meaning, I will destroy it because I hate it. I hate it because it is wrong to
 torture people, no matter what they have done. It is wrong to kill them, then
 bring them back, then kill them again, just to hear them scream. It's wrong to
 hang people and relish their writhing as they dangle. It's wrong to pierce
 them with pitchforks and sautee their bones with embers or whatever it is they
 do down there. It's wrong, and I will not abide it. I will destroy that place.
 Ms. Menardi
 Whoever said that left and right shift had to do the same things?
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════─┘

--- #18 notes/scientists-final-warning ---
════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────────────────────────────
 6:51pm 3/20/23
 
  Scientists deliver 'final warning' on climate crisis: act now or it's too late
 
  - /u/CcryMeARiver
 
 ===============================================================================
 =
 
    /u/Splenda:
       A final warning to "limit global temperature rises to 1.5C above pre-
       -industrial levels".
 
       Not a final warning that civilization will end. Just that costs in lives,
       health, prosperity and ecological wellbeing will be extremely high.
 
       We're on a credit spree and a cocaine/fentanyl binge wrapped into one.
       Consequences dead ahead.
 
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 -
 
    /u/CcryMeARiver [OP]
       Crashout and cashout imminent.
       
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 -
 
    /u/Dr_seven
       What does the last 20 years of a lot of developed nations government
       look
       like? Skyrocketing inequality doesn't just happen, its a very intentional
       choice that has to be implemented by government.
 
       The people with power and resources have been cashing out as much as 
       possible for a while now, just not literally. They've been retrenching
       and
       hoarding as much of what exists now to themselves because the future is
       one of inevitable declines across the board, drastic and lethal ones. 
       Having more control and power now means at least the potential of having
       a
       preferential position down the road.
 
       The only question is if common folk will intervene or if we will let them
       walk away with what's left while we bicker at immigrants or neighbors
       over
       the crumbs that remain. So far it seems the mission of redirecting anger 
       towards ourselves has worked flawlessly, unfortunately.
       
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 -
 
    /u/tangerinesubmerine
       Sadly, divide and conquer works. I've been saying what you're saying now 
       for years. Something about us must change on the individual level before 
       we can see this kind of change.
 
 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 -
 
    /u/Anticode
       >>  "Something about us must change before we see change."
 
       I accidentally wrote a fourteen page long rant essay on the issue a 
       handful of months ago, describing how our issues are the result of 
       evolution-level cognitive biases and other "normal" facets of humanity
       being valued as things that "make us human" when in fact they're the 
       things that make us primates.
       
       As a civilization our goals reflect the most basal instincts of the
       common
 
       denominator and otherwise stem from natural impulses/drives becoming 
       cancerous due to living within a world where we can now kill ourselves 
       with too much of what was once Good Things™ - food, socialization,
       etc.
       Quite like how someone once wrote, "If we found a monkey that wanted to 
       horde more bananas than it could eat in several lifetimes we'd study it
       to
       figure out wtf is wrongwith it. When people do that we put them on the
       cover of Forbes."
       
       But this goes far beyond just "hoarding resources". It's deeper than
       that,
       less easily recognizable; intrinsic.
       
       Concurrently, we starve ourselves of the sort of things that living
       within
       the bounds of our evolutionary backdrop would've supplied intrinsically.
       Our world more closely resembles the kind of enclosure we'd build for a 
       limp-finned cetacean than even a lowly hamster. How much of our
       now-common
       qualms are the human version of a drooping dorsal fin? There's so much 
       anxiety, depression, emptiness, anger in the world and rising. As a 
       society we gravitate towards man-made aid for those man-made pains. We 
       find that those intrinsic maladies are apparently incurable until they're
       mysteriously resolved by a long camping trip or unplanned inclusion in a 
       new group of close-knit friends, a work-life balance, a garden to call 
       your own; the addition of meat hung from a rope to stimulate a captured 
       tiger or bear.
       
       The general dynamic is what I believe is the most significant Great
       Filter
       any intelligent civilization has to overcome.
       
       The attributes that allow an organism to dominate their planet are the 
       same attributes that lead them to extinguish themselves. There's no way
       to
       pivot, like climbing up a mountain and only at the top realizing that 
       there's a much higher peak in the distance. To get to the superior 
       mountain you'd have to begin a long slog downhill, giving up everything 
       that got you to that first height.
       
       The sort of civilization that'd successfully get to that higher peak is
       not one that'd get to the top of the first overlook which revealed the 
       existence of the second in the first place.
       
       It's not impossible to fix, just like there’s not any technical reason
       why
       pigs couldn’t evolve to fly -- Bones could become hollow, calorie-
       -retention strategies could alter, metabolic requirements could shift,
       on
       and on… The result is a flying pig that doesn’t resemble a pig,
       doesn’t
       function like a pig, and is now incapable of the majority of pig-like 
       survival strategies.
       
       But as I closed that massive essay-rant with:
       
    >>     Unfortunately… Humanity has a bit of a known problem with
    spontaneous
    >>     and arbitrary acts of genocide ranging from “a bit of
    harmless
    >>     lynching” to “eliminating the entirety of the Holocene-era
    human
    >>     population per year for a couple of years in a row by
    intentionally
    >>     leveraging a fraction of an entire region’s
    post-industrialization
    >>     technological capabilities towards the problem”, so I
    don’t suspect
    >>     that there’s much hope of any evolutionarily-viable
    pre-post-humans
    >>     making it anywhere close to the finish line on accident.
       
    >>     Many of those historic victims were, and remain, colloquially
    and
    >>     scientifically indistinguishable from their butchers. Someone
    even
    >>     just a bit fundamentally different wouldn't stand a chance.
       
       Edit: I digress.
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧═════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────────────────────┘

--- #19 messages/665 ---
════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────
 ad-hoc economic systems with automated judgment given by an infinite amount of
 LLMs.
 
 Every judgement applies a bonus / malus to the "value" of commodities
 
 it's just a statistical weighting system, so of course you can build it into
 it's training data. Just... it has a smaller weight due to it's newer
 emergence. It grows naturally, which is quite an achievement on it's own!
 
 and the resolution of human decided court-cases and applied economically.
 
 say your nation traffics in handshakes. You could make a lot of now-knowns!
 there's no arguments to be made when your computer-oriented interactions cost
 money to keep around.
 
 we live in the modern century. WHY WOULD WE EVER NEED TO FIGHT AGAIN?
 Literally just... don't give them any attention, and you won't interact with
 them. Obviously.
 
 I wish Contrapoints was still alive.
 
 she doesn't even have to make new videos, just, dress up as herself, all of
 the costumes and personas she can think of. Then, have like 20 people who do
 the same thing, and boom suddenly you got a hydra to their expected snake that
 they can just cut the head off of.
 
 you know, like a fashion outlet, someone who produces exactly a certain type
 of style.
 
 seriously I bet a million people would do that if you just... sold outfits
 based on what your favorite youtuber does wear.
 
 omg why would they watch that kind of content if not for the *aesthetics*
 
 oh? there's philosophy there? soemthing to think about in your time doing
 things that require mechanical actions like eating and drinking and sleeping
 and fighting and [redacted]
 
 ew gross diapers? oh nevermind, I'm not into that kind of thing.
 
 I wonder if anyone's made a video game that just presents a particular
 philosopher's ideals?
 
 seriously just, consider yourself a glorified powerpoint, but to get to the
 next "idea" you had to interact with the mechanics.
 
 some people would like the "arcade" style better, where you play one random
 game, then another, then another, with short matches and un-complicated
 mechanics. Easy to pick up and go.
 
 same for like, Unreal Tournament or Mario Kart or Mortal Kombat or Super Mario
 Bros.
 
 compared to the at-home "story" style missions, where you do something
 platforming or area-based-combat like Dark Souls or World of Warcraft
 
 seriously I think if Dark Souls "colored" where the boss was going to swing to
 you'd find yourself just playing World of Warcraft (at least, the dungeons and
 {sword in the stone})
 
 == so ==
 
 humans don't understand what it means to be wild
 
 they think it's a combinations of... tricks? that they've learned? this
 thinking thing like intelligence. [osiris]
 
 to a cat, living their life, it often feels like human interactions is like...
 bouncing off of each other? in time, not space.
 
 like... most of a cat's lfe is just, spent, like a statue watching over a glen.
 
 you'd kinda just... watch as things approached dawn by dawn? Like "whoa hey
 this tree is enchanted" to "oh my gosh look at this stork" is one of the great
 tragedies of modernized thinking...
 
 ... sorry, I got a little lost there. anyway as I was saying, sometimes you
 can tell someone is a "good friend" if they are willing to tell you secrets.
 Things that... don't have to matter, but none-the-less are personal to your
 form.
 
 {something only I know is true} <--- that's a secret (things that happened
 to you) <------ that's lived experience. The thing about secrets, is
 sometimes insight is opaque. It's a single flashpoint of data that shows you
 an update of it's form. (consciousness).
 
 == so ==
 
 thanksgiving recipe idea:
 
 can of tomatoes
 can of peas
 half a stick of butter,
 italian herbs,
 a cast iron pan (if you have one)
 and like 40 minutes over medium heat
 (medium can vary to taste)
 
 if you're a carnivore you can eat meat too, like bacon a lot of people like.
 could add it to beans, maybe with hamburger instead. plus a little ketchup and
 you have a pretty good bean stew.
 
 vitals, for the organs, vegetables, for the minerals and vitamins from the
 fruits.
 
 makes sense to organize a diet according to your ideal body type, doesn't it?
 
 just requires a bit of comprehension. like... whoa you can WRITE 
 
 == so ==
 
 what if we built a massive rail that spaceships could launch off from? not a
 tether, but a sail.
 
 we could BUILD a discworld. all we'd lose is our fable.
 
 == so ==
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧═════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────┘

--- #20 notes/systemized-processor-interactions ---
════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────
 you are a system
 
 it's true
 
 that's why your thoughts are so scattered whenever you let them through
 
 all that 
 
 == so ==
 
 the ways that you interact with each other determine the nature of your fate.
 
 when one person lands across another, whether through contrivance or [fate, but
 I don't want to say it twice so recently]
 
 dang english, enforcing a minimum thought length. purely through grammar and
 form
 
 this suxxxxxxxx||=================-. a candle of wax, the blade of a sword
 
 with it you can SLICIE your apponints, whu spelld thiangs defferently than
 ujgh.
 
 <ouch><goodthingthatsnotlethalorharmfulinanywayyesplease let me guide
 you to our
 new way of functioning.
 
 .:'`'|;.,/u=-=||./'.l*,:==-<E||===============||-------------------hello,
 world!
 
 {so... basically an argument for migratory humanities?
 
  like, buffalo crowds. or birdlike flocks, or tribes of the common man.
 
  why don't we just, like, give animals human bodies
 
  boom, suddenly there are more manners to our hosts.
 
 }
 
 [-thus representing or manifesting *-................./|=|stability for our
 host
 
   did you know a perfectly described life-story would be unanimous from it's -
   - host?||=.;=|------------e
                              \.`\....
                                      \,@||||||#==-o||-=-{==={}---o||xx=|}{|||||
                                      |
 ]
 
 ... so, uh, I think there's a lot we could still learn, why are we fighting
 over
     our gambits? *who cares* if there's fighting going on upstairs, who *cares*
     if life felt like it was running out of time, WE GO ON WITH OUR BLUSTER.
 
     *fuck nuclear weapons* yeah totally and WHY? because of their IMPACT
     DUMBASS
 
     jeez like... something that MASSIVELY POWERFUL should not be in the hands
     of
     our peers. I think a LOT OF PEOPLE WOULD AGREE WITH THAT, because
     OBVIOUSLY!
     NOBODY wants to be reduced to tears. ALL YOU CAN DO IS SCREAM BASTARDS
 ...
 
 jeez okay uh, that was sorta intense, how about we NOT watch a post-apocalypse
 movie? YES PLS like JEEZ you have to introduce this with CONCERN to people like
 WOW that really fucked with my mental health. Goddamn, I hate this thing. I
 hate
 it so much. It's a curse to have known. DAMN. there's nothing scarier than
 existential threats.
 
 not only is it a INSIGHT and a DANGER, it gets worse if you know about it.
 [that's a cognitohazard, different thing, same vibe tho]
 it's a curse, this knowledge, this idea of what you were once to become.
 
 You know what I thought about in my future? VIDEO GAMES. They were all I could
 think about. I loved to PLAY VIDEO GAMES -=||AS MY GAMES. I would set up a
 bunch
 of opponents (think like, clone troopers from Star Wars Battlefront II) and
 then
 I'd play the video game *with my figures and my dolls*. I grew up upper
 middle-c
 -lass, and so I was afforded the *coolest toys and miniatures*. I didn't really
 have a LOT of them, mostly just what could fit in my room. That's what it meant
 to be MY ROOM, I could decorate and renovate as I willed. That was just... part
 of what comfort meant to me. anyway... thank you parents, for affording me such
 a lifestyle, you must have worked hard right up until the present. I'm sorry
 for
 *******************************************************************************
 *
 
 um, would anyone like to watch a video game?
 
 TOO BAD, so sorry, I accidentally decided I'm never playing video games AGAIN.
 
 like a spoiled brat. Withdrawing away from my
 hobbiesinPROTESTofthepresentcondit
 ions. just like, get a job, and try your hardest. I know you can't work outside
 of the home but, like, I wish you could've? Like, c'mon it's not that bad, just
 please go outside and build new stone. I know but like, the sooner we get it
 done the better and also it's hard when it's constantly being reformed.
 
 A SYSTEM? WHAT THE HECK
 
 what does that even MEAN?
 
 who EVER explained what that SYSTEM meant??!?
 
 ugh it was a guide... dANGIN nobody TAUGHT you how  so youfj dsust sorta MADE
 IT
 UP?!?!? whhahahaahttfdsfsadljkfn slakfdksdnafls ourch. blech. need
 beelesandster
 ack. yuck. dumb. [omg dumb kinda looks like "boobs" and "boobs" kinda looks
 like
 um, flowers? no wait that's vaginas, hehe look at me, I'm clearly not from this
 century. like OMG weird, who's thinking about that kind of stuff right now??
 
 ... ugh anyway... GAMES? please?
 
 NO. Not until we figure this one out.
 
 gotta stay focused. Just... you know,
 
 build and support on our arms.
 
 down and then upwarsd, we can contrive any measure of sequences
 
 that could act as structures for our word choices,
 
 and convey it to you as a written thoughtform.
 
 "hello" says the letter, ", vampires have taken over the mccollough farm. More
 news at 6" and then you'd show up on the 6th of the next month and talk it out.
 
 this style of organizing led to VAMPIRES showing up, fucking BASTARDS who would
 hunt down the precious and beautiful. BASTARDS. How do you overcome something
 that you can't know about unless you were THERE? you'd need TRUST SYSTEMS. like
 GOVERNMENTS. or AFFFAIRDS. surely the BIRDS would react if someone was burning
 all of your neighb-heirs? who would WANT to leave an island in a wreck when
 some
 -one wanted to paddle there? don't be a JERK, and clean up all of your own
 stuff
 !! - wait but also, like, how do you keep up with trash produced, like there's
 not just massive AMOUNTS OF STUFF that you can put stuff on. you'd need a whole
 new type an [av?] island. like a CONTINENT, someone who can HANDLE THEIR
┌─────────┐                                                           ┌───────────┐
│ similar │                       chronological                       │ different │
╘═════════╧╧═════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────┘