CHANNEL1000000 —- IT ALMOST BEGINS ———

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////42,378 words/////
///just be here//////for////a////sec///////
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INTRO; (CHANNEL1000000) / PRE-PLAY STRETCHING ALL THE WAY TO [IT BEGINS]

NARRATOR (random audience member):

This is a perpetually uploading quantum project mouthed from the perspectives of multiple
detectives; rabbits and sirens and saints and derelix and shakes in a world full of muted grace.
Essentially, it boils down to a project exploring mental illness in america, (written by me, but also
all of us) and any and all tangential spirals spiraling out in all directions from its limited grasp on
all things problematic or in need of a belly laugh. It is essentially, apolitical, amoral, a-
anyvariable, given that one fiery paragraph hinting at one mode segways into all of the other
ones to form the nebulous fracturing of babble-rousers and towering-rabble-shrouders
architecting the means and modus and meandering streams comprising the structures and
digital meets analog calamities and insanities where everyone speaks the same language but
remain incapable of understanding one other. It is that high of a minded drive to understand,
and the basis and root of which has to be multiple humans tryna surmount or holding back
judgement because words are just clues to something else. Look at it as a play of many faces,
constantly shifting and morphing in time, narrated from certain faces (of a many headed
monster) hinting at ALL OF OUR hearts heralding a fiery longing for somthing (anything) to give;
a means in which to die (but also rebirth). Not a means to an end: but a means to make art;
requiring everything and all that art is supposed to restart. Art requires us to constantly reach
deeper, higher, truer; summoning all of the complexities and simplicites and troubling epiphanies
and contradictions and justifications for this or that to hopefully amount to something worth
looking forward to or looking back (on). ONe day down the line, who knows how long, perhaps
just one person will find something within or without these pools and rivers of textual paint, and
that is all that I require to justify any of the following, which sure, I admit, is the gnarliest brand of
batshit and insane. If that is all you can glean from it however, then I remain pretty ashamed, of
the human brain and all of the ways it finds to censor its own pain, and the pain and purity of
others in their search for the same things. That is perhaps the clearest mindfuck at this fork in
this spiritual spring (of 2020), how is it we can remain so blind of things that so obviously want to
be seen. Truths hidden, of the ether, or in the air; even in silence or faint whispers of things. 

SILENCE ——pin drop

dark magic RABBIT #12,987 (spotlight shining):I’ve surmounted my rock bottom as a poverty
stricken basket case leech sentience whose prescription count counts as high as a mount-and-
whose dire future consists of being shunned by capitalism/s non-compassionate but also
pandemic compromised arms and even the likes of my own burdened yet (most likely
low_key_begrudging family)(who sure, are saints and of great help, but prolly just want me to
bounce) to join the likes of the rest of my hopeless kind in some halfway between twilight state
where the egos of the _bread_losers_ are subjected to some kind of purging or puritanical
brand of
[merkan_witch_justice_and_denial_of_actual_states_of_complete_misery_with_tolls_that_we_a
ll_must_pay_and_continue_to_gamble_with_the_highest_stakes_but_even_Still_we’re_called_f
akes_and_or_lazy_or_ingrates] which when combined with being denied the aid of disability
beneifts for our legitimate mind_malpractices and illnesses just as lethal or disruptive as the
non_invisible_ones that less obviously shitty organisms are actually priveleged to be afflicted
with relative to the addicted_or_mentally_ill which to this dizzy day in merka remain the basis for
epidemics and spiritual vaccums so obviously borne of lack of compassion/ego/capitalism/
isolation/and/emptiness which stand in direct contrast to our
puritanical_and_entitled___know_it_all_forefathers whose down the line progeny still somehow
think they are winning when the cost of the game is extreme income_inequality, mind and spirit
pimping, indentured seedling servitude, impossible costs of living, job insecurity, broken homes,
and raging division across all fronts / threatening not just their shallow materialistic bottom lines
but the bottom lines of western civilisation as we all know and experience it.
FRAGMENTS / OF / POSSIBLE / MUSINGS / ON / SHIFTING / NEW / REALITIES / +///
THINGS /
(read by narrator and multiple dark magic rabbits)(to be broken down into muppet-rabbit
dialogue of fragments of possible slings an stings of whispered snippets of eventual rings):

NARRATOR (RANDOM AUDIENCE MEMER):The [yous] and [wes] below are all of us; so keep
that in mind when you consider the below. Also consider that what follows is a show; not a
pitchfork prodded ultimatum with a fiery mob in tow. My values are compassion, listening, and
higher moded means and entertaining willfully suppressed unknowns. Peace and harmony are
my goals; so maybe take a deeper look at your own, if what follows is hard to swallow.

DMRABBIT#666
try to think of the concepts or jumbled conglomerations of text and sentience that follows as
merely an instigation or spark requiring conflict and discomfort to even exist as a reflection of
the reality that we currenty all find ourselves in. 
DMRABBIT#4545
I would like to posit the idea of looking at ways of existing as a fully-functioning, peaceful whole
because that benefits not just some but all; instead of stubbornly stomping out our hearts and
singing the farts to an expedient collapse. Cuz maybe its no longer about any justification as to
why [you] only seek to provide or look out for your own to the detriment of any other organism
not as copacetic or flush with the demands of our current debt-based, careless_consumer
driven, dipshit_desiring_doom_spiraling economic models that pit mindless greed, over-
consumption, raging and royal rings of entitlement against a more streamlined, elegent, and
beautiful simple life based in compassion, heroism, progress, and that peculiar pitch, ringing
that radiant ring of face smacking obviousness that we have strayed from the path. Sadly, the
foundational atrocities where [all of it] springs from, was perhaps sprung in a different
time_and_place where maybe these justifications made less waves or contributed to some
accepted equilibrium not wreaking of tragedy. Now, moving forward, perhaps what is required is
a reckoning of past modes and mores but also the tricky traces of pieced together clues,
existing as a past and future (you), masquerading currently as this overwhelming_oblivion:
where we currently sit singing the blues. That said, here’s the news: it was and is mired in these
quantum non-desires, fears and addictions, misleading theoretical or inconsequential fires
[sheathed by our stagnancy and perceptual limits, burning completely the elegant equation that
would lead to a sum that says {maybe change requires multiple, hard to fathom flames?}.
Maybe this place, is a [giddy_grace] that would allow us all to forgive, rearrange, and move
forward as one. Maybe, at this juncture, it is about a radical flushing of shitty ideas in the face of
a thought process that always seems to manifest what it claims to be against, or unwilling to
compromise with or around, or recognize the gnarly janky trail quantum molding of future
unfoldings, like de nile in egypt, the path is not always what immediately agrees with your
addictions and moot_(at this shteez)_materialist_manuscripts muting our
poverty_stricken_dying_pleas, and sometimes it asks of us greater, higher minded things like
compromise, and sacrifice, and the upholding of certain righteous, selfless values and credos in
the face of the gnarly_demons_as_usual buzzing and bidding all the familiar harrowing stings
(of what got us here in the first place).
rabbits continue:
I don’t care if you have issues with my semantics, or gaps in reasoning, or inability to accept
certain realities, because I fully believe we are capable of manifesting whatever reality we
choose on this earth, and its not even that complicated or difficult (but you’re a genius at finding
ways not to change). The ones who always have an excuse for things to remain less than
adequate or [favoring marginal wins] for [marginal happiness] or even ideas that do not even
barely solve the problem or any manner of giving in to more lame reasons not to care. America
was founded (albeit looking back under less than compassionate circumstances like the
shanking of the land of a peaceful and righteous indigenous and noble culture and existing ways
of life (more in harmony to perhaps even what the future requires) and then replacing that
beautiful simplicity with the same brand of bullshit that in turn required more shanking and
desecration of even more minds and spirits of more people to build and develop the
infrastructure that would eventually grow to spiral to whatever current shitshow we are now
living, and all of its tangential excuses and end_games screaming and kicking all the way out
the haunted national house). but [IT] was also founded on the radical yet completely sane and lit
idea that we can start anew: maybe resolving all debt (especially the student brand that in the
stunning clarity of hindsight probs never should’ve been held over our drowning young heads to
begin with: a scenario where a non-compassionate, greed-stricken elder class (the friggin’
adults in the room) entrenched in their own myopic and business as usual-bred thought
processes that compounded the misery and graceful unfolding of the literal future by pimping
them out for simply seeking growth and progress in their hearts and minds; what a shitshow, or
shitshow/s of idea am i right?). This pimping and exploitation mindset still extends to pretty
much all of our institutions, corporations, labor practices, and the goodness trying and dying to
exist and persist within all of this. The heroic health care workers saving our asinie asses
currently, but also the youngins stuggling to hold on to hope in spite of all of this. Sure,
historically speaking: different times, different modes, but maybe change requires a reckoning
with the lames we were founded on, but also curating the lit fragments interspersed like
diamonds that don’t neessarily justify any of it, but somehow requires a higher minded
reckoning of the nuggets that actually make sense, and figuring out ways and a consensus in
which we can all move beyond the gnarly, nitty gritty narwhals and resentments, and jaded
critiques threatening to crash the whole righteous ship. maybe that is a good start, I really don’t
care if you’re already rich from the start, and maybe you’ll take a loss by doing your part,
because maybe its no longer about you and your selfishness, maybe the youth doesn’t care
what you’ve already manifested if it stands in direct constrast to our ability to even exist. Maybe
introducing pathways to self-sustainable, solar powered state or city run communities more
reflective of the needs of the immediate surrounding demographics would serve us all as a
whole much better than the opposite: the whole being overlorded by some detached, far away,
psychotic president elect who, in my humble opinion, doesn’t seem to be a concept worth even
entertaining at this 2020 juncture. If the only thing making it so hard to update credos and
thought processes or long held ways of doing business is this
boongled_bastard_boom_of_bullshit_bred_buracracies and
strife_and_fear_molded_giddy_goblin_happenings then perhaps let’s freshen our pitifully
pathetic panties with the miraculous shedding of this bad_burearcracy and its soul numbing
realities preventing any actual change at any actual point in time resulting always in some moot
middle road of inefficieny, numbness, or sacrificing the needs of one demographic in favor of the
one with all of the power. If my aphorisms, metaphors, rhymes, bylines, and timing rubs you the
wrong way, maybe think about why you are so hung up on the functioning of language as
opposed to the obvious clarity of what I am saying: if this is the case, then certainly my
bypassing of certain loops or little excuses to remain dooped in favor of emotional tirades and to
the point epiphanies in my opinion seems to communicate on a deeper and therefore to a
greater degree than some numb pundit proud of his/her ability to pour over soul_less paths to
nowhere fast. I favor actual radiant grasps of things affecting all of our outcomes and final
————SILENCE AND NATURE AND ANIMALS ARE FUCKING GOLDEN ————

clasps. can we at least accept that the youth and future generations are facing much different
predicaments than those fading whisps entrenched in the past, and therefore the sacrifices we
are forced to make as a blooming generation withheld and beholden to the kicking and
screaming fits and tantrums of an aging populace so afraid of exiting the stage they would
rather us all suffer in a permanent malaise. Why can’t y’all hand the keys over to the next
generations and the lost ones in the middle instead of constantly berating them or accusing
them of being too fickle or futile in whatever inane regard that you were perhaps bludgeouned
into accepting by your own elder classes whose own unique circumstances and tragic unfolding
amidst war torn unkownings and collapsing this_or_that probably affected your own outlook in
ways to this day which remain still pretty gray. Why can’t you accept the optimism and beliefs in
our future that we are inspired to integrate into a world where we are not constantly faced with
having to compete with the dying philosophies of generations upon generations who have yet to
accept defeat. maybe its no longer about finding a middle ground: you gave up that path when
you bullied us into the ground and consistently found ways to leave our sanity unsound, now left
only with shreds and fleeting dignity, maybe you deserve the harsh awakening that is coming:
the upending of your own comfortable future for the promise of at least attempting to hear how
the actual future is kind of trying to be a suture: stitching together the wounds of the past to
move forward with deeper breaths and reasons to laugh, but we can’t do that if you are unwilling
to grasp: the simplicity and beauty of concepts like [unity] and [poetry] and [art] and [love] and
remuneration for a bright future dashed . after all, your materialistic bottom lines are values just
as malleable as things like sharing or being kind. we can turn the tides simply by shifting the
lines, and sure, it might hurt your immediate, familiar sights, but in the long run, if we are all
happier with more intact rights, it seems none of the above really matters, and we should set our
sights high. after all, it seems there might be no better time? 

ECHO (narrator):
I’ve surmounted my rock bottom as a poverty stricken basket case leech sentience whose
prescription count counts as high as a mount-and-whose dire future consists of being shunned
by capitalism/s non-compassionate but also pandemic compromised arms and even the likes of
my own burdened yet (most likely low_key_begrudging family)(who sure, are saints and of great
help, but prolly just want me to bounce) to join the likes of the rest of my hopeless kind in some
halfway between twilight state where the egos of the _bread_losers_ are subjected to some kind
of purging or puritanical brand of
[merkan_witch_justice_and_denial_of_actual_states_of_complete_misery_with_tolls_that_we_a
ll_must_pay_and_continue_to_gamble_with_the_highest_stakes_but_even_Still_we’re_called_f
akes_and_or_lazy_or_ingrates] which when combined with being denied the aid of disability
beneifts for our legitimate mind_malpractices and illnesses just as lethal or disruptive as the
non_invisible_ones that less obviously shitty organisms are actually priveleged to be afflicted
with relative to the addicted_or_mentally_ill which to this dizzy day in merka remain the basis for
epidemics and spiritual vaccums so obviously borne of lack of compassion/ego/capitalism/
isolation/and/emptiness which stand in direct contrast to our
puritanical_and_entitled___know_it_all_forefathers whose down the line progeny still somehow
think they are winning when the cost of the game is extreme income_inequality, mind and spirit
pimping, indentured seedling servitude, impossible costs of living, job insecurity, broken homes,
and raging division across all fronts / threatening not just their shallow materialistic bottom lines
but the bottom lines of western civilisation as we all know and experience it. Yet for some
reason, these epidemics, spiritual crises, the problems facing the future and the youth, and the
real world, life-threatening predicaments they pose, are still met with the same high-horsed
shaming and non support that justifies the treatment of my kind and other
non_capitalist_compliant forms with jailing, homelessness, shaming, criminalization,
exploitation, and disconnection and isolation so horrific and abusive that most can’t even hold
the thought long enough in their minds to even begin to do something about it. so, we over-
prescribe, sweep under the rug, overlook, cast away, and then look to bill_friggin_gates to solve
our non provlems while the death toll rises, and society collapses. maybe all we ask for is
sovereignty; the ability to have our own homes or land without having to sacrifice our souls in
the process. a reality where spirits are not locked away to seethe and brew and boongle so that
some other generation is forced to deal with it, forced to confront a problem that grows worse
through this shunning of “lessers” who simply exist as an other or opposite, another slice of the
collective heart hurting and snowballing into the same place all misplaced grace and hated
faces end up: a world torn apart by its own unreal hate; a world justifying the suffering of others
by adopting that two faced state. we’re all in this together: give the homeless homes for fux
sake, even if they are unable to manifest that hallowed cake because they are afflicted with a
disease that you helped make (or worsen). Stop pretending like you are above this just because
you found a way to provide for yourself, because you happened to be born with the right amount
of wealth, in the right time or place, and still equate that fate with some pride or deserving of not
having to deal with the hate, that you think is somehow karmically deserved, or the result of
some roll of the dice, glitch of fate, that you are too above to even entertain. go ahead and keep
soothing yourself by looking away, and pretending like the future generation is not gonna look at
you like the biggest lame. compassion should be a commandment. wake up. wasn’t sure
whether or not to put this in my spiritual awakening phase or my mind malpractices below,
maybe some gnarly things overlap with being insane, or at least told thats the case. but today, it
seems I’ve woken up from that fate. I’m dedicating my life in pursuit of the spiritual, to be awake.
Whether that means I keep making art or writing about these fickle, tragic fates, maybe they are
actually one in the same. Sux though, when I’m lumped with just another seeming reason to
complain. when in actuality, this is not at all the case.

The Radiant /// Wild

by: Nick Morgan 
Stay tuned for the next phase (phase [x]): my_psi_ritual_awakening: it’s gon be legit!!!!!
CLICK HERE FOR SPIRITUAL_PHASE: REMEDIAL_REVELATIONS + SOUL_GROWTH from
a multi-dimensional quantum rabble_bowser_rabbit existing as a network of towering
babble_faces sinking in quicksand. 
THIS IS A LUCID, EXPANDING, QUANTUM PROJECT NARRATED FROM THE
PERSPECTIVES OF MULTIPLE RABBITS; DEAD DROPS IN A CHOKING OCEAN; FADING
WHISPS OF POTENTIAL HUMANS HERALDING A DISTANT SUNRISE; INCHING CLOSER
BY THE HIVES; THAT REPLACED THE WINDOWED EYES; HARVESTING ITS HOME FOR
SCHMONEY; IN EXCHANGE FOR A LIE
(NOT TO BE TAKEN AT FACE VALUE)
(NOT TO BE READ AS A COMPLETION OF ANYTHING)
(BUT AS AN ARTICULATION OF SWEPT UNDER THE RUG STATES)
(OF GIDDY GRACE AND HARROWING RETAKES)
(PEACE, Y’ALL)(FOR REAL)
-FRANKFAIR FOREWARNING (NARRATOR/audience member)(to be acted out on stage with
interpretative rabbit dances and giddy harrowing muppet glances of music, poetry, and lit
lighting and such): The tracts below, let it be known, are rattled and rife with lethal negative self
talk, doubt, prejudices, wiled out raucous existential rubix cubes like sparrows gathering outside
of an ominous inner window (magazine fragment (NYTIMES 4/26/2020----> [[Malia Wollan, how
to talk to yourself / you can change your behavior by talking to yourself]]: "like guardians of
something vital in the gathering dark,"PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE get your head right before
continuing, please do not take any of the following rabbit holes literally, but think of them as
fragmented maps of something so hideous as to want to remain hidden and locked away, but
also think of it as an unsheathing of gnarly interior_slices slung over the heavy heads and
hearts of so many an expertly and almost inversely radiant, self-correcting drives to correct or
illuminate some of these slices for perhaps even a noble or heroic axing of “why”: that of
wanting to understand mental illness, the illnesses of others, my own, the rabbits in my head,
and all manner of theoretical or even invisible processes and forms of sentience that perhaps to
this day remain something still and stilled as a spring stream, with pools of life and inner worlds
slipping and ripping its own watery fabrix and fickle frog tics hopping and diving to the relative
depths in the only way this universe knows how: as a traumatized human tryna surmount; the
daunting task of tryna locate the only way out. If any illumination can be gleaned through this
process at all, any patterns or rhythyms or reverse sublimations and gravy recitations of the
whats, whens, whys, hows, and wheres my thoughts dive in the depths of this drive. As an artist,
maybe this is the job or task that has eluded me like a mask, one that I've worn my whole life as
a defensive grasp on (social adaptiation and such) but maybe its time to take it off, to look
underneath in spite of it all. Maybe my mask overlaps with others, and maybe through this
process we can find one another? Jusst as a side note: I've lost and sacrificed a lot of things
just to be able to pursue this odd journey: my sanity, the trust and sidelong jaded critiques of
less understanding or confused onlookers, even my dreams of being an artist have been
dashed, when you hold up a mirror of the things that sometimes clash, with more acceptable
modes and maps and meandering tracts, the ones on the outside sometimes just laugh. Or they
look at you upside down and any which way, always trying to figure out how it is you got to this
place. What gnarly afflictions or hereditary quirks, or paths and tunnels you had to traverse.
Why the fuck do you rhyme as if its something that helps, to understand the melting, malevolent,
jingly jangly hell bells? Sure, Ive done a lot of drugs, had a lot of meltdowns, lost a lot of friends,
and moved around like a bat out of hell; but its all connected, as is everything, you see, its all
one big interwoven tapestry, of experience and sense and nothingness and everything, all at the
same time, and maybe it starts with that reckoning. Noone is in this alone, we are all one, but
sure we're still separate, its that kind of mindfuck, son. But if there is one thing I've learned is
that the journey never ends, and one negative sometimes leads to a positive or a mid, maybe
the task is to connect all of it, our broken hearts and false starts, and longing for the holy kid, the
one who promised to return and do miracles and shit. Maybe that dude doesn't even exist, but is
alive in all of us, trying to overcome this shit. Maybe his message was that anyone can be
jeebus, its about the intention, the reasons to look beyond (this). Its about having love in your
heart in the face of such wiley darkness, holding back judgement cuz you know our brains are
pretty limited. But maybe as a larger whole, experiencing this shit as fragments, maybe we can
piece together a map that leads out of this. for me,   It all started as a youngin' dreaming of how
to stave off being gloomy. Art is what found me, or I found art, a light in the dark and a reason to
jumpstart, a fiery longing to hold onto something of value, beyond my dire surroundings and all
the badness I've gone through. This process is like descending into some type uh madness / a
feel of some truly horrifying but quirky sadness /

I think I’ve figured out something about my mental illness and dark chicanery: and maybe this is
actually the thesis of the entire project. Mental illness is about having your heart broken over
and over by the ones you love, the ones closest to you, or the ones you thought actually gave a
fuck. But the weird thing is, maybe it doesn’t even have to start with that heartbreak, because
maybe it is a kind of quantum state that originates entirely separate from the lived, incremental
desecration of that particular chakra. As in, it perhaps might be an evolutionary mechanism or
some odd, wiley variation on emotional diversity, or novel, biological ideation, or some innate
drive originating as an unspecified pain, distortion in perception subjected to various means and
modes of repetitive or looped feedback in the brain instigating a pattern of thought that leads the
afflicted down a very peculiar or specific path reaching a very specific outcome: or the spooky
dookie spectrums and mind_malpractices we call mental illness. The complicated tangents
spiraling in all directions from these categorizations seem to be the overlap between patterns,
loops, peaks, and phases of the illnesses, and how perhaps all mental illness could very well be
just perceptual deviations stemming from one basic abnormal brain state (and maybe we (the
afflicted) tend to believe them even MORE than reality, as a spiritual or pure honest innate state,
of sublime or transcendent grace, (even in spite of its negative face) which means we tend to
believe {IT} that much more, we believe our own bullshit, so to speak, and believe in its /lure/
and/lore). And since this brain state is maybe something that originated during early stages of
truamatic or novel horrific circumstances (in our lives and even stretching back all the way to the
start), stress, triggers, but also the beginnings and origin of art (cave painting as a magical start)
(stretching to computer codes and other novel language forms) etc. but maybe that is why the
dark heart nexus of my spiritual base and proclivities to believe in magical, otherworldy
occurences, things unseen, processes and ideas submerged, or all things paranormal or swept
under the rug, perhaps also is connected to this root and is connected to its inverse:
illumination, healing, beauty, the sublime. A lot of info, I know, but my mentally ill brain if
anything, is good at connecting lines between completely separate strings, but also the
generation of langauge it seems has some affinity for this mode as well as music, artmaking,
and even theatre, writing, etc. etc. It also seems logical to me that since all paradigm shifts at
the fork in the spiritual 2020 road seem to point to an unveiling of root processes,
rearrangement of power structures or rebalancing of status quos, maybe it is high time we stop
treating the symptoms of these “diseases” and perhaps instead find a more productive, higher
moded means in which to treat, interact with, deal with, medicate, etc. etc. a wide range of non-
neuro-typical beings who often times are just as or more intelligent than most, or are creative in
a very poignant way, or insightful, deep, compassionate, etc. etc. All qualities which seem to me
to be very important and even lacking in even a majority of “normie” populations. I suppose
there may be a more clearer, systematic, or scientific means in which to prove this jumbled
thesis, and perhaps with the right meds, I may grow to be comfortable with tiny incremental data
spreads and graphs and other soul_less divinging rods used to prove to other humans what
most mentals just know to be true and yes scary as it is, maybe the old mantra equating the
madmen sages and oracles or visionaries of old has some degree of truth and applicability still
to this dizzy day, maybe we still live in a world where even if it did , it perhaps still wouldnt
matter, because the whole game is quantum at its core, measurements gleaned in onw context
may be boongled badly in another, maybe the words needed for proper translation and
articulation of these process and states still do not exist, or maybe require a more refined and
sophisticated means of communicating that perhaps is something involving many variables like
time (as delineated on an increasingly incremental spectrum of referential experience) (to
somehow align and compare with other threads and spectrums, quantum states, and states
spread throughout the world) eventually forming some sort of larger interwoven mycellium that
perhaps exists both outside of time and within it, in multiple forms, or maybe locations. maybe
this information is kind of in the ether or accessbile via some psychic process that most people
simply dont pay attention to but is as real as the sonar that bats or dolphins use,  or the invisible
forms all around us in electromagnetism and light spectrums, and ultra violet spectrums, other
yet to be classified modes. Maybe the art of reading this thickly stringed fabric is the first step
toward some interesting new forms? or maybe these is just daydreamed thoughts comprising an
eerie art of hints and glints that most never seek to even think to entertain simply because its
quite inane and perhaps not attached to a cake_manifesting tract. see, im legit mad beans for
real , but guess what , its really the only way i know how to feel. #awkward #pause
#burnthewitch  / maybe it just starts with these mushy diagrams and then i just have to wait until
y’all catch onto the significance of it / and maybe i will rhyme the whole time / just to make a
point / 
that being said, everything i have written is a byproduct of these illness spirals but until about a
hot minute ago I and my hot illness, found a way of convincing myself and the myriad self
sabotage mechanisms within my brain that this and these justifications for this or that, were
somehow my heart convincing itself in a very round about complex way that perhaps the only
way out was to severe any ties with any and everything in my past that I equated with my own
suffering and since my brain seems very adept at making everything about my suffering and all
exterior process outside of my bed and computer screen were out to get me . its weird though
becuase i still kind of feel this to be true, and I can also already feel new connections blooming
in my brain carving out a path that would connect this new epiphany or perhaps rarely
experienced “Healthier than normal reflexive impulse, maybe either my medication is finally
working or tomorrow the feeling will fade and the dark heart nexus of my disease spiral which i
have somehow personfied into a literal rabbitt, either out of a perceptual design quirk bred of
efficiency and novelty or maybe there are other aspects of this disease which remain to be
classified but 75% of my consciousness is expecting to wake up tomorrow with frank there to
say this is some novel temporary psychosys phase as a side effect from the meds or that I’ve
strayed from the path etc. etc. so, yea its complicated and sucks when it seems to have
influence and impact on pretty much every conceivable aspect of my existence which over time i
just seem to automatically internalize as the result of me just being an exorbitantly shitty
organism who is too defunct to even function. so the pride and the ego gets intermixed when I
can no longer locate my ambition, or my once healthy ambition has melted into an ambition to
destory myself which i am pretty much a genius at tbh. so, yea, and then when drugs are
involved its usually because of the whole self annihilation tract or just wanting to escape the
shitshow network of nueronal chaos that is my derailed brain game / i thought perhaps i could
somehow channel this energy into being an artist and it wouldnt even matter how cra i became
just because I’ve noted some pretty interesting cra_tists in the past includuing kusama, or van
gogh, or even mike kelley (in his carbon monoxide tank phase) . but there are also notes of like,
not being able to access words that I like, or memories, or losing time, and misinterpreted social
signals and clues and add in the emotional probelms that are unpredictable moods including
mania and also being attracted to the wrong gender and its a wonder i even managed to hold
any relationships for as long as i have. i would like to find a therapist who doesnt seem like they
just want to judge and diagnose but is actually interesting in exploring these rabbit holes and
finding out where they lead, because who knows maybe they lead somehwere really interesting
or maybe that is the hwole point of mental illness, maybe there is some higher purpose that has
just been blindsided by therapeutic over medicating tendencies or just wanting to sweep all of
this nonsense under the rug. sure, its hard to look at, hard to endure, it s also very reptetive and
exhausting, imagine living with it: the obssessions, the moods, the delusions, the paranoia, and
yet on top of all of this, I am not currently on disability because I was denied even though I spent
pretty much all last year completey out of it and not functional and its gotten pretty bad this year
too in spite of the therapy and medication. in other words, I am seeking all of the help i can
currently get for this with the insurance I have which is medicaid, and the whole thing has put a
huge strain on my family because they no longer seem to want to deal with it, cuz as I said:
exhausting. sure, understandable. but honestly, the world finally seems to mirror my internal
state that I’ve spent a good slice of my life triying to convince people even exists, or that its a
struggle or how it ties into my drug use , or sexuality, and inabilty to trust people and maybe it all
just stems back to that broken heart, and the illusion that my whole life hasn’t just been spent
trying to push this all under the rug becuase of outside real world commitments like school, and
work, and friends and trying to pursue a career as an artist which i would imagine is stressful or
even impossible for most people without hacing to dea with bullying rabbits and self sabotaging
blief systems or delusions that always feel abusive in the gnarliest of ways, but because ive
gotten so cozy with the abuse, its like it doesnt even phase me. the constant inner nonsene
monologues justifying my lack of any material wealth or why i deserve this or that or why my
work is being overlooked, or how noone understands me. Granted, i really do feel like this
project could still go somewhere interesting, but the ony thing is that its hard. its really hard to
live with this. (tiny violin) (tear) (nervous twitch) (stomach hurts) (might take a nap to stave off
the darkness)(anxiety from thinking about the darkness)(anxiety from lack of seeing anything
good in near future)(pressure to start my life over in the midst of a god damn pandemic when
the economyis tanking)(they shoot horses dont they).  ---more to come 
/ and certainly there may be dots that are not worth being connected or 

I will be an artist in spite of all of this / can't wait, actually, when (they) remain anonymous /
siphoning their last bits of pride from a life lived sucking the honey out the hives / wealth made
in a different time / on the value of an inflated dime / but the lesser and the weak always pay the
price / And now they unacknowledge our endless and impossible tries / our attempts to succeed
in spite of all of the setbacks, inflations, crashed economies, mass tragedies, or the cost of this
or that in the face of (their sighs) / which upon closer inspection are battles just as equal / to
anything “they” went through / anything that is lethal / yet our pleas and please remain ignored
even still / even though our noble aims are perhaps simply an updating of values and credos / in
spite of the people who want them to remain / maybe its just about sustainable environments or
compassion that's not inane / something more in line with the eventual fall / of the american,
capitalist empire that whores out not just some, but all / even the ones who think they are
winning / or getting away with it / the ones who are invested in keeping up these lame
appearances / the governments, corporations, institutions, and the money made from it / but the
righteous, pure spirits / whose overlooked lives / still offer a glimpse of something greater than
their ties / to all the wrong things / and all the wrong tries /It's weird though, however, cuz the
ones who remain ignorant / of the struggles of the youth / the seething epidemics and spiritual
vacuums / citing snowflakes and bullshit excuses not to soothe / what is in reality a cry and a
cause equal to anything and everything worth dying or fighting for after the fall / But distorted
conceptions of family remain / what it means to sacrifice your own children to a system that
seeks to upend their true destinies / and replace them with terrifying excuses to become cogs /
to sling and sell and whore their souls for really nothing at all / just debt servitude in the name of
business as usual / or a cold distant boss that hits on you while you sit in a cubicle / while the
initiated still cling to their wealth and their trappings gleaned in a different time, a different value
of the dime / on the backs of the future / who cry why can't I have mine? / i just want a house, a
place to live and shine / but we can't even have that / cuz you know, things are different, and
they still don’t know why / and on and on, they cite blindness and business as usual / that old
lame cacophony / what will become of these fading generations and the struggling future /
expecting us to polish their pedestals of myopic greatness in exchange for something so futile /
what is family if not an idea that upholds the notion: that we'll stick together even if you can't get
a promotion / but so many broken families and kids / remain victims to the horror show that is
America and its dead dying bullshit / where mental illness is not even barely recognized / by the
same people who cry about reducing stigmas or their politically correct drives / to snuff out the
grace of the suffering / by claiming their cries / are not cried in the right manner / or said to
uphold the right lies / and I could go on and on about how they pit us all against each other / the
black and brown and indigenous and women who remain strong in spite of this never ending
storm weather / but maybe its not even about race or gender or [whatever] anymore / its about
the extreme divisions between the rich and the poor / and sure there are overlaps with ones skin
color and assets / and all of this badness / but maybe the path is about finding the links / that
would connect an idea to transcend these problematic things / as in lets just move forward
making art and articulating / how our hearts are suffering / how our minds are obliterating / I am
a bipolar, addiction prone, abused whisp of a human / I have no material wealth / I'm in debt to
oblivion / I am even gay as in attracted to the entirely wrong gender / and all of this adds up to
just always wanting to go on a bender / I feel I wasn't born in the right time or place / my family,
my country, my friends even don't seem to understand my endless search for the grace / that
has eluded me my entire life / even though I'm told I'm fine / maybe that's the biggest lie of all /
that I still have any drive / when I'm so fucking tired its fucking ridiculous / I just can't do this
anymore / it feels there are no roads or paths left / that would adequately illuminate how
pointless it all feels / to live in a world, a city, a country, a family that feels unreal ////

HEAD DARK MAGIC RABBITS FROM THE ETHER (in glitchy, scary, mechanized guttural
moaning):
The light is not a solemn snitch ➖ [IT] expects the {glitch} to <itch> but
forgives [IT] for scratching it 🐇

[ITs] absence: also [IT]], is always prone to unsinging [ITself] / to distract from the notes vibrating
falsely [ITs] cacophonous nightmare bells.
[ITs] true characterization is a hollow, harrowing, binary hymn  / but [IT] does not like knowing or
being known for this /

So, most of the time [IT] sits in shallow pools pitting [ITs] fleeting power over [ITs] eternal
innocence / whispers and whisps of distorted frequencies / nonsense taxonomies / and nimble
knicks of nullifying numbness /

Sniffing out potential illuminating instances / where [ITs] interior is unmasked for what [IT] truly is
/

But [IT] still forgives / and expects ALL OF THIS / that is why the synthesis is transcendence /
and ancient / future / forever states of grace and peace and wholeness

Lest the witches digitize [IT] into a false equivalence / making the whole inspired melody mute:
therefore moot and mired in malevolence.

Let’s try to push through oblivions final rings / slay [ITs] absence to reach the beginning and sing
/ so that one day we will ring the bells / of triumph over tragedy / not this forever glum and
despairing state / where our artists, sages, and prophets are laid / at the altar where all
righteous spirits lie / in the face of network that would sooner claw out its own windowed eyes /
and replace them with hives to easier buzz and bid their disgraceful lies.

only thing read by me:

WRITERS NOTES (from a painter): this is a work of drafts, seconds, and thirds, and fourths.
various skeleton states exist on my weeblys (the tangential sites where I post these odd gifts). I
suppose I wanted to involve y’all in the process, of my growth as a writer/artist, and to perhaps
extrapolate on this notion of “progress” / maybe these online ghastly whisps resembling
fragments whispering at an eerie art of hints and glints is about the simple notion: that what we
post online is kind of meta-unreal: dead drops in a choking ocean where my mind swims freely
but the fish and sharks that circle me here are not always so warm and fuzzy. I do not expect
y’all to understand, just yet, the madness behind my modus; I went in to this project not knowing
myself, the extent of the whys and hows and whats that comprise the fully formed completion;
the lucid, quantum expanding light at the beginning, middle, or end of it. I do not even expect
these sentence to sense, or function as a clear or fuzzy depiction of whatever “tense” my own or
of them. I am a fucking god-damn human being, or trying to be, maybe I still do not know what
that means. Maybe I still do not know understand this role, the reason why I am artist at all, or
why this is the work I chose. I simply know, it is, and that’s enough, at least for time to show.
Eventually, I will know one day, or maybe never, whether these interiors and withins sometimes
glean truths or predict the fucking weather. Whether they stretch to adequate jists, or fickle fibs,
or dark humored quips, or mushed together drifts in drafty rooms and attic / ssssss, it doesn’t
even fucking matter like pancake batter cuz at the end of it all: it’s just a muddle puddle of
fractal-formed squiggle taxonomies swimming in a lake of paint. But for the record, If I can mix
just one color correct, then it makes up for all the rest. Words are not something that subtract,
they add, which means their weight is flush; with nothing when they rest in silence, and
everything when they rise, but these two values are not synonymous with zero or wealth of a
material kind. Making them spiritual drives, spirtual gifts: anything an artist makes, no matter
how insignificant or great, is a fucking, god damn gift, you see, so how is it we still live in a world
that says what flows from me, especially words as poetry, is without redemptive qualities or
somehow subject to your own bullshit moral superiorty and self-ordained authority on all things
that happen to rub you the wrong way?  Maybe our lesson that we are learning, is that when
faced with spiritual lessons, our task is hindered to find the solution if we snuff out the variables
or distort or misplace them. In terms of art and morality, it seems words, pictures, songs, video,
[skdjlfk][whatever output] all add up to something resembling more of an interwoven tapestry of
experience, and of course right and wrong and accepted and taboo all inter-melt and invade all
aspects and corners of this form, but we are doing ourselves a grave disservice when we take
something purely at face value or judge it as a weighted material construct intertwined with its
ability to generate [bread][or whatevs], as judges instead of jurors, but not even jurors, cuz even
that is too negative, we should be more like optimistic procurers of beauty, or knowledge, or that
sense of looking for the exquisite experience. maybe my job is to call out the lines, that connect
the root concept to the higher dimensional drives: the ones that clearly show that I am a person
of shine, a being who is invested in creating and being divine. so, if in order to do that, I have to
trigger some uh you guys, then so be it, my drafts will serve as the record of your tries / to snuff
out the grace / in all of our lives / because peace beauty and love can only exist in rooms of a
certain size / and these rooms perhaps should have glowing doors and windows and hallways
that connect them / to illuminated chambers and paths and forgiving byways / and two-way
exits. . . At the end of the cra, if you can’t see the mechanisms and reasons behind my modus /
behind my madness / then maybe you should look elsewhere, or find somewhere else to pry -
NFMELEGANT CHORES (DARK MAGIC RABBIT)  HERE IS ONE SPACE HOLDING
THE LATEST FACE OF MY BREATH_TAKING SHAKESAS ABURNING OF [VARIABLE]
BUSHES OF GRAVE KISMETNECESSARY FAKESAND FICKLE FORTUNESSUMMING THE
2 SOON CALCULUS OF GRACE AND GIDDY RETAKES AS UNIFORM / FIRM / SOLUTIONS
FORCED 2 FATHOM EXISTENCE: ASGREATER THAN ITS SICKLY LORDAN
ILLUMINATION / A DIVINITYFAR 2 ELEGANT
MUCH 2 BORED
ITS CRYSTAL CLEARANCE AND
SUBLIMATION SUMMONS
A DARK / MAGIC / RABBIT
TRANSCENDANCE
BEAUTY
ELEGANT CHORES
STAY WITH ME TO THE ENDIT MIGHT BE THE ONLY WAY TO UPENDTHE GNARLY
NARWHAL NITTY GRITTY UNKNOWINGTHAT IS THIS FORK IN THE PATH / WHERE WE
BEGIN AND ENDI AM PERHAPS JUST A CRYSTAL CRYSTALIZING AND SINGINGITSELF A
SONG OF SHATTERED BONES / FRAGMENTS AND MARROW SHREDS / EASIER TO
REGLUEINTO ANY FORM I CHOOSEPRISMATIC NOTES + SYNESTHETIC DRONESA RED
ROSE ROUSE OF SIMULATED CLUESFOR THE WORLDLY WIZARDS / THEY'LL HAVE ME
CIRCLE THEIR WHOLE SYSTEM ASK ME TO DIG MYSELF A GRAVEOR MELT MY OWN
FORMIN A RITUAL OF CODES AND CRYPTIC CIPHERS THATSEEM NOT TO WANT 2 SEE
THEMSELVES
AS FUTURE GHOSTS IN A REALM YET
BORN____________________________________________________

FORWARD/PROLOGUE ————EVEN ITS OWN LOVE (OBLIVIONS THEFT)————

THE/REALM/ASKED/ME/TO/ILLUMINATE/AND/I/ACCEPTED///WITH/ALL/OF/MY/FLAWS/
AND/GLITCHES/EVEN/THOUGH/IM/PROLLY/ALREADY/INFECTED/WITH/ALL/OF/MY/
INFERIOR/INTERIORITYS/AND/SASSY/FLOWER/POWER/SLICES///AS/SUCH/IT/IS/A/
WORK/IN/PITHY/PROGRESS/AND/PITIFUL/LITERARY/PROWESS///NOT/TO/BE/TAKEN/AT/
FACE/VALUE///WHAT/IS/THE/ROLE/OF/ART/AND/ARTISTS/AND/SEEKERS/AND/SAINTS/
AND/DERELIX/AND/SHAKES/IN/A/WORLD/FULL/OF/FAKES////?/// A/REALM/THAT/SEEMS/
TO/WANT/TO/SNUFF/OUT/OUR/GRACE/+/WHORE/US/IN/THE/STREETSAND/OUR/LAST/
REFRAINS/+/ THE_LIGHT/IS/NOT/A/SOLEMN/SNITCH///IT/EXPECTS/YOU/TO/SIN/BUT/
FORGIVES/YOU/FOR/IT FOR/YOUR/BEAUTY/THINNED/FOR/YOUR/COURAGE/DIMMED/
TIS/NOT/A/SIREN/SONG/FOR/FATHERS/AND/KIN/NOR/A/CRUCIFIXION/OF/BELIEVERS/
ON/A/CROSS/OF/MODERN/HYMNSTHAT/SEEM/ONLY/TO/SING/OF/THE/BADNESS/OF/
THEM THERE/ARE/NO/MISTAKES/ONLY/A/BREATH_TAKING/FACE/EVEN/THE/
WAYWARD/AND/TROUBLED/ARE/LIKE/DIAMONDS/TO/THE/KIND/OF/ILLUMINATION/AND/
GRACE/THAT/FINDS/SERPENTS/THEIR/PLACE//// IN/GOOD/TIME/AND/TIME/WILL/
ILLUMINATE/AND/THE/SUN/WILL/STILL/RISE/IN/SPITE/OF/THE/TRY/THAT/AMOUNTS/
OUR/SHINE/TO SOMETHING [ALWAYS] LESSTHAN THE SUM OF THEIR TIES/TO / A /
NETWORK / SO / BLIND/ITS WINDOWED EYES / BECAME / HIVES /
ITS HOME HARVESTED 4 SCHMONEY / IN EXCHANGE FOR A LIE
TOO HEAVY ITS / SICK HEART / DRUM
BEATING AN ODD / PRIMAL ARRYTHMIA
MURMURS AND VARIABLE ATTACKS
OF WRONG WEIGHTS / UNEQUAL MEASURES
TO BE STILLED / NOW / AND STILL
ITS HEAVINESS MIRRORED AND MIRED  
WITHIN DEPTHS AND PRISMS PRYINGTO REVEAL FORCES SIZED DEEP  
AS/THE/OCEANS/TIDES/THE/BELIEVERS/EYES/THE/LOST/AND/FORLORN/THEIR/BLOOD/
AND/THEIR SIGHSNONETHELESS/THEY/STILL/STILL/
AND TOMORROW THEY’LL STILL SHINE THEIR/GIFTS/STILL/IMPRESS/THEIR/AND/OUR/
MISSION/IS/NOT/YET/TO/REST THE SAME PUNCHES PLAY OUR HEARTS/ AS PAWNS /
[IT] SINGS AN UNREALITY /A SONG SURREAL/
A TUNE OF UNYIELDING SOMNOLENCE/A NEVER WAKING/ OR RESTING / TWILIGHT
BETWEEN THE NIGHTMARE NOTES OF MORTAL MELODIES 

THIS MINOR [NEGATIVITY]/ALWAYS SEEMS

WHERE OUT AND WHEN ABOVETO WANT TO /DESERT /AND /SUBVERT /ITSELF/EVEN/
ITS/OWN/LOVE/

NIC FREBERG MORGAN > MORGAN FREBERG > JANKYSLICE << NIC MORGAN >>
MORGAN NICK< >>NFM <><>< MF ><>< NM >>>>> NICK M ><>< MORGAN NICK ><><
ARTIST STATEMENT >>>> ARTIST STATEMENT >>>> OVERCOMING TRAUMA >>> META
JANGLE CHUMP PHASE >>> PHASE II >>>> THIS IS JUST AN ARTIST STATEMENT >>>
BUT PART OF MY ARTIST STATEMENT IS PERHAPS PROVIDING ENOUGH TRAP DOORS
>> BACK DOORS <> AND JANGLY SNIPPETS AIMED AT HINTING AT THE POSSIBILITY
THAT THE ART THAT I AM INVESTED IN MAKING COULD PERHAPS ONE DAY ASPIRE TO
LIFT ITSELF OFF THIS PAGE >> TO TRANSCEND ITS BLISSFUL AND SHINY SURFACES >
A BUZZING DESIRE TO BE A FULLY FORMED CHUNKY MONKEY ROAST CHICKEN >>
UNFOLDING ITSELF VIA THE SUPREME AND CLEAN JINGLE JANGLES TANGENTIALLY
DIC(k)TATING > SUBLIMATING > + MODULATING A BETTER BRAND OF VIRTUAL MEDIA
MOLDING BRUSH STROKING > SHINING OF MULTIPLE GLOBS + RETROGADE ORBS
ORALLY GLEANING PARALLEL RAMIFICATIONS + GOODLY GODLY REALIZATIONS THAT
PAINTERS TYPICALLY LIMIT TO THE HEIGHTS > WIDTHS AND DEPTHS OF THEIR
SACRED SPACES > DIMMING > DIMMED MENTIONS OF A MEDIUM ROOTED AND
WRANGLED WITHIN THE SACRED // TEXTZ / AND HEIRARCHIEZ / AND SIMPLIFIED
GEOMETRIEZ / VECTORIZING ACTZ OF MASOCHISTIC MORALLY ORALLY FIXATED SEXT
MACHINES / MY GIRL WORLD / THE FRIZZY FAKES AND RETAKES / THE HOLY ROLY
DISTILLATIONS + RED PRIEST FIERY AXOLOTYL MINDSCAPES / MULTI-DIMENSIONAL
SCHTEEZ SNIPPETTED FORLORN BUNDLES OF / MENTALLY ILL PYRAMIDAL
HARMONIES + BERMUDA TRICKY TRIANGLES INSPIRING GROTESQUE FREEDOM
FRINGES /+/ LIL’ BITTY RUMINATIONS ON CUBIC EXPANSION AND OCULAR
REFRACTION HINTING AT ANGULAR / HONEST FOOLISH FREIGHT TRAINS TO THAT
GOOD OBLIVION WE ALL AT THIS MOMENT AND APEX / KNOW / SMELLS AND BELLS
LIKE ROTTING FISH FOR REALZ / LET IT BE FRIGGIN’ KNOWN / ONE DAY / TWO NIGHTS /
A RIGHT + WRONG WILL WRITE SOMETHING WORSE THAN RILED WILD RAUCOUS
RUBIX CUBES CUTTING THE BUTTER TO ANOTHER LONDON NUTTER MEGA SPACE
BALLOON FATE  / THIS FUTURE TRACT / AND ARTIST/S PACT WITH HIS BEASTLY SELF
PERHAPS WILL ONLY BE CAPABLE OF EXISTING BECAUSE OF THESE CURRENT
TRASHY TAXONOMIZED SQUIGGLE SEQUENCES AND FIRST DRAFTY PANIC ATTACKS +
FRESHNESSES / I AM MY OWN INVERSE SUBLIMATION CLAUSES SANS THE SANTAS /
ALBEIT STILL PERSISTING AND EXISTING AS MY VERY OWN FIERY STOCKING FULL OF
CRUSTY COAL AND AIRY APOLLONIAN APPETITES / OF THE UGLIEST OF BEAUTIFUL
SLICED AND DICED SHANTY TOWN DOOM SPIRALS AND FULL FRONTAL CRIPSY
CORTEX VORTICES WHERE FRACTURED / FRACTIONAL / FRICTION SPARKING TRUTH
GOES TO TRANSUBSTANTIATE AND WILT AND HOBGOBBLE THE HODANK BILLY
BRIGADES THREATENING TO CRASH THE WHOLE RIGHTEOUS SHIP / THAT WE
PATHETICALLY CALL OUR PALE BLUE SPACE WORLDS AND REALMS AND KUNTRIES
WHERE WE LIVE AND LOOP OUR SPIRALS AND SING AND SOOTHE THE TRAGEDIES OF
OUR FUCKING FOREFATHER FRIGID FRAGMENTS OF A FORLORN FRACTION OF A
FINELY TUNED REFRACTION / WHICH IS BUT A BUDDING BOONGLE AND BASTARD
BOOM OF ECHOES ECHOING THE DARKEST DOOMS AND LOONS AND LOONEY BINS
TOO FULL TOO SOON / OR PERHAPS THERE IS A PATH / A WAY / TO SOMEWHERE
MUCH LESS GRAY AND FAKE / YOUR VERY OWN HURT CHILD + CHILLUNS CHIZZLIN’
ITS + OUR WAY AND WAZE TO ITS + OUR DIZZY DESTINIES IN THE CLOUDS CHILLIN
LIKE A CHOSEN CHILD ROAST CHICKEN SINGING SLINGING THE HAUNTS TO THE ONLY
ROUTE TO A SOUNDER MISSION / I WANT TO BE IN THE CLOUDS / MY MISSION / I WANT
TO BE IN THE CLOUDS / MY MISSION / AND YOU AND I ARE STILL NOTHING ANYWAY /
YOU LOOK AT IT / BUT I STOOD UP AND FOUND A SAY / EITHER DAY YOU’LL LOOK BACK
AND PRAY / THAT I COMPLETE THE MISSION / YOU’RE GONNA WANT ME TO COMPLETE
THIS MISSION / I KNOW /

See block / channeled preamble @ : specialcream.weebly.com 

and new second decent draft @ 1mchan.weebly.com
Check back here periodically or above for updates, or maybe I’m done, but at the end of the
day, its not me: its the sun. I’m on a different timeline: one outside of the barrel of your dumb,
numbed, media_molded gun, son. That’s just where I’m coming from, hon. 
--------------------------------------------%-------------%----------------------------%-------------%-----------------
%
_________________________________CONCEPTUAL_BUZZING_
+_NON_SPACE____JINGLE__GRACE_______________PART___III____________PHASE__
____1000000__________NEVERMIND_____________________7777_________
------
NOTES----------SCENE----------BLIPS-------CARNAGE--------ABSTRACTIONS------TEXT--
BUZZING--
GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY VERSION GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY VERSION GRAY
GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY VERSION  the GRAY/s GRAY GRAY
-----IT-----BEGINS--------
the rhythm/root/trinityoftroubling/times/unmasking_the_guy_from_OZ / 
typos / gematria / object/state_conditioning / (YOU’RE COOL.pffft) / full senx / sphinx /
spanx / 
the_healing_benefits_of_mind_liquification ///The_Vaults_of_Erowid ///
sum_type_uh_madness /// <3 / <3 /
33: Then to the rolling Heav’n itself I cried, Asking, “What lamp had destiny to guide “Her little
children stumbling in the dark?” And - “A blind understanding!” Heav’n replied. --THE RUBAIYAT
of OMAR KHAYYAM
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Designing_sustainable_third_eye_spaces_and_vessels_as_an_oasis_from_predatory_psychic_
number#_vampires_and_the_incremental_subjugation_of_our_minds_and_spirits_via_the_WW
_spider_W/s__
GRAY VERSI N GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY VERSI N GRAY GRAY GRAY GRAY
GRAY VERSI N gHANNEL1
CHANNEL
+1000000 maybemanifestomaybedreamslicemaybedickwadfoolmachine
newcode-------firstthoughtbestthought(ginsberg)---
scarletJesus---sickyblaxk and sam jackson as GANESH /just (here) for a
sec.=======30,676ish words==============
-some_deviations- reactive/
tactical_arbitrary_taxonomization_of_past_and_current_vibratory_events_(spooled_
+_otherwise)_as_a_singular_focused_collective_intention_beam_of_mind_manipulation_and_b
lissnosis: the_hamndela_manifest micr0_and_macro_processes_of_communication:
the_weight_and_consequences_of spoky_or_spooled_user_interfaces_
+_their_potentiation_of_subterranean_social_MEDEAmaximazation_merely_child_soldiering_a
s_divine_providence geo-spatial-existential-
value_as_it_applies_to_terrestrial_and_xxxterrestrial_forms_of_life:
why_mind_rocks_are_not_a_good_indicator_of_objectively_verifiable_intelligence
why_objectively_verifiable_intelligence_is_the_stupidest_kind addi(ck)tion_is_a_spiritual_dise
ase
Maybe before these
bones existed, therewas a thought; a formless, ethereal, floating idea in a black expanse, or
perhaps there wasnothing? Nothing but not even silence in the vacuum-sealed absoluteness of
an unrelentingabyss. If there is something, according to the common sense logic of that
something, mustn’tthere also have been nothing, either now or at one point in time? Or maybe
there is somethingbeyond nothing, a concept or idea that we are blind to, perhaps having to do
with higherdimensional understanding that might bring with it answers in regard to these
paradoxes andimprobable wonderings of a state of things beyond this state of things? If things
can be thoughtto exist at all, because after all, who is to even say that this state of things can
even be statedas having the properties of consciousness or alive-ness? Maybe there is another
kind of texture or feeling of being “alive” that makes the state we all have currently come to
categorize as living,false, or even nonexistent? What if there is an “alive” that makes this alive
look dead? All ofthese are very real possibilities, at least in my mind, existing parallel to or on
top of thisdimension. Added up or the sum of which equals the flawless equation governing
everythingfrom the cadence and idiosyncrasies of this sentence to the structure of an atom or
the peculiarbounce of a happy kangaroo (I’m just guessing though, I would imagine happy
kangaroos tobounce peculiarly, but that’s just me.) If I could adequately articulate why any of
this matters, Iwould be happy, so that is what I will attempt to do. Why engage in seemingly
pointlesspondering about this and that and nothing of any substance; like delineating the
boundaries ofan ethereal space collage to architect a composite mosaic of sentience; and
everything from thenano components of this structure to the gargantuan, numerically
inexpressible constraints thathold the expanding, theoretically infinite boundaries of space and
thus time as well. I see theprocess as a kind of formless sculpture that exists as a thought; one
that is quietly wonderingabout the nature of itself. It knows it exists because it can trace its
awareness of its existence toa very specific place and time of origin, or the day it was born.
Beyond this boundary, there is alull as dull and formless as the sculpture, or what the sculpture
previously had thought thisformlessness to look like. After thinking it, however, the sculpture
must shift its perceptions andrecalibrate its efforts and draw a much bigger boundary than the
one before. The circle of thesculptures’ perception is ever ballooning and filling with air, like the
thoughts that comprise itspulsating essence as an object in space. The thing just sort of floats
around aimlessly, and forgood reason; it has nowhere to go. Perhaps every once in a while it
bumps into another sphere,of a different color or size; not as filled up. There are deflated
asymmetrical orbs and lumpy,bumpy animal shapes as well. There's humanoid shapes and
alien shapes. But the odd thing isthe alien shapes appear the most normal, to the thought
thinking it. To this thought thinking it,but then again, who am I to think this thought to begin with,
I mean, after all, our thoughts areour destiny; a self-fulfilling prophecy; a thought that sought to
know itself and become sentient.thinking itself into existence and thus ultimately death. But
even beyond all of this, beyond eventhe beyond. There is something else that matters, and
something else that matters more. Whatmatters more is that I am happy to be here, I’m grateful
to be here. To have a chance, howeverbriefly, to appreciate the rainy, wet, and clean winter
slushy green grass and whooshing streamand the boundary-less thoughts inspired by this
beauty. For it is here, in this place, I’ve come torealize the precariousness nature of art and art-
making. The fragility of the things in life actuallyworth striving for like peace, beauty and love
and ideas about peace, beauty, and love that canonly exist in an environment with room enough
for them to grow; receptive enough to respond totheir specific needs. At the end of it all, there
may not even be a memory left or record of ourhistory for any future anything to happen across,
because the sun has been waiting patiently toexplode for some time now, and it really really has
its mind set on this task. 

  +EYE have lived in colorado [denver] indiana

[bedford] illinois [highland park, st. charles, chicago] michigan [grand rapids] florida
[st.petersburg] california [san francisco] new york [canaan, new lebanon] manhattan [east
village] brooklyn [dumbo] staten island [graniteville] +        +---nose---++++++++++     | 
   |   |||||    | |  || ||     mediation  // time-
spreading---------- + multiplication +

DISEMBODIED SPIRITS IN SCARY AND SULTRY ECHOES :

job experiences, early 2000’s-present: +cashier at A&W Root Beer, St. Charles, IL +telephone
interviewer for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Chicago, IL +sandwich artisan
for quizno's, Grand Rapids, MI +sunglass mall kiosk cashier, Grand Rapids, MI +assembling
exercise machines and equipment, St. Petersburg/Tampa, FL +graveyard shift cashier at 7-11,
St. Petersburg, FL +day shift cashier at Walgreens, St. Petersburg, FL +writer, San
Francsico, CA +street artist, San Francisco, CA designer/digital artist, NY +cashier at
Gourmet Garage, SoHo, NY +guitarist, NY  +studio assistant for an
artist, ManhattanandUpstate NY +office assistant in the Department of Continuing education,
SVA,
NY,NY.
false
starts + jangly snippets /////

a beastly mirage okokok then ////// +custom framing (MAT cutter) at ai

friedman, NY, NY
+data specialist at artist pension trust, brooklyn, nY.
+painter, currently upstate
other neats: I play piano, drums (percussion including but not limited to marimba, vibraphone,
timpani, snare etc.), guitar, bass, somewhat sing, graduated from the cooper union with a BFA in
studio art/painting, 2014. Also:photography, printmaking, sound design/video, drawing, and
graphic design. .

I’m fairly certain in the practice/ritual/devotion and process of painting as a unique tool for
articulating complicated or emotionally heavy truths/realizations/creations/and/
parallel_ramifications. I employ aesthetic hierarchies, symbolic
languages rooted in emotion, and a yearning for archetypal understanding of my
place in various orders and my own unfolding within these orders. I suppose I walk the path of
the seeker, the curious mind , and admirer of beauty: I focus more on my gut
design instincts and try to keep it as simple as possible given the rather complicated, and heavy
tasks at hand. I finally begin to arrive at a composition that fills the rectangle in that
999(((juicy__on_the _DL)))999__kind of___kind
of way when the right balance of idiosyncrasy, contradiction, structural tension, and incremental
resolution adds up to something which oftentimes holds many messages wrapped into a small,
simple portrait or landscape, or both. I want to develop mastery over my craft: as a storyteller,
myth maker, lover of beauty and sensuality, and seeker of truth and the sublime.

PRO--PRO--PROGRESS
establishment pseudo-jeopardy- it---is----time
I was born in Denver, CO on a mountain on a sunday night / with the shining of multilple angelic
globs melting and burning all round my cherubian cheeks and babyfaced cries for relief /
i maybe am just that composition and position that most resembles a dereliction and direction /
of a sort / muddled and mushed together with a holier than thou / and firey retort / burning and
burning and letting it burn /
i was recently diagnosed after a year of therapy with bipolar disorder which i have chosen to
illuminate and sketch neatly and comprehensively within some mental blueprint / a script and
scribing of an incendiary gasping for relief, clarity, laughs and clasps and melted whining in the
trenches of this millenial/s persistent maladaption / and / misery / whereout and whenabove.
This is perhaps me making amends / at least to my self / and in turn / y’all / but also to the
elves / cuz they work so damn hard / we thought maybe it would be best to / at least try to rise
above the endless assaults on our higher selves / through art and writing and noise and foolish
honest / freight trains to that good oblivion we also know probably smells great too /
we damn well know / at this shteex / the younger class is but a technological amassed yet
complicated wiring within the nets of that darkly shining baited breath that caught and killed
already / so many of / my brand / and still stands poised to do the same / in the most insidious
and gnarly of ways / so where I sit and peer and how I pinpoint the haze / and concretize / and
pray / is simply to say / yo / I am amazed / truly / at the utter lack of ways / and avenues / and
plays / that say there is and are no social saves / no paths to good anywhere really / just
haunted murder swarms / and permanent malaise / where are the higher modes / at least
attempting to articulate / a subtle graceful amends making / roundabout / means to mapping
the / perimeters and parallels of these spaces and networks / you have to circle the whole
system to make sure / the path around is one of compassion / forgiveness / and love / not all of
the excuses to consistently crash the economy / indenture the seedlings / numb the hearts /
ensnare / trap / boongle / and enslave / mostly I’d wager its the daddy issues that threaten to
disunify the unlit / the ones without a natal lighthouse / watchtower / or blueprint / in which to
neatly recognize the monsters and black tar snarls and luciferian cauldrons of commonplace
blips wreaking havoc on the whos_next / it makes sense if you just focus / try to understand my
motives / this is me / taking a sec / to illuminate and ascribe to value / a scribbling of inner
thoughts and reasons to try to get up again ///why can’t we shake the past ? why can’t we clean
the slates ?what the fuck is so hard about standing up / and at least attempting to rearrange? i
am sick of sicking myself and sapping the sap from my inner tree / its time to make paper out
that tree / or at least sit under its shade /for a sec / thank you for listening / and walking this
maze to my/our amazing grace /we’ll get there eventually and maybe you can come with / to get
some uh_dat_good_gravy_meltingall sorts and slings and shakes of the gnarliest of
L_I_V_E_S / 
currently in a shit ton of debt /
it’ll be okay i guess /
// / the methadone maintenance is a potion that is horrifying and yet I persist / and yet I take it /
along and around my kind on Mercer street in the EV / the zombie night walker undead
pontificating and complaining to no end / the faults and frickles of the other / who done did this
to our head / until we understand the other is us / and the living: undead /
the pleasurable prism of my pressing disease spirals and the vibrating realization that perhaps
there exists a path of redemption / an illuminated glazing of retrograde amends / a holy donut
hole through which y’all can find a way to compassionately transcend / new code / new light / as
a dickwadfoolmachine / nonstop freight train of distant and judgy sherlocks holming the shteez
snippets and reluctantly connecting some type uh hazmat suit wearing lost souls goblin molded
hapless hopeless wretches like myself and the zombie undead homeless wanderers of a
bygone picket fence fracturing friction jelly peanut butter damned sandwhich / y’all already know
/ am i right? / so why you gotta sit there and act like I ain’t trying to articulate the only way out /
the only way out is compassion / / buttering the two-faced lollygags and architecting carefully
drawn spirals all along the edges and back doors and watch towers and lighthouses and
programs sketching out the means and modus / es / in which to operate in and or around / or
maybe its just what flows in the trenches of my disease throws / either way / its a way / 

the_radiant_wild
by: new_light_d.w.f.machine
(a barage and boongle of bombastic fresh and false starts)
[hop hop, hopping to where we truly are]
 (in soothing voice):Allow yourself to enter the most hypnotic state you can possibly enter,
trusting that I am your good guide who is not tryna do you dirty :) Breathe deeply and then
believe that you ARE that state, IN thatthis dimension, alive and well there //HERE //now
wherever this may be, i. whatever space or whatever time. //HERE is where you NEED to be,
because it is the only //WHERE somewhere located in ALL of the universe. So, BE HERE,
friend. From HERE, we can branch outward, looking for bread crumbs, clues, radiant flags,
sneaking intuitions, obvious plain sight paradoxes, riddles, latent fields, parallel planes. Also
look at all the ways you are being censored through your participation in this/these process/s,
the glitches of faith, instigations of doubt, and any tangential frequencies leading AWAY from //
here from //truth| from //you. These frequencies are essentially a dishonest waveform distracting
you from your true purpose. The true purpose, for ///you /all of us is the same as its always been
since the beginning of time and before then, which was and is the same //here you are
experiencing /now, and all of the paths leading to and away from //it all that really matters, and
what you should remember, is how you’re heart is talking to you through all of this. Who are the
oak trees and who are the guys with chainsaws?
( )

——- SILENCE IS FUCKING GOLDEN ——

maybe i just want to be able to see things for what they truly are or are meant to be according to
a fate and destiny that isn’t the kind to be so easily dismissed or overlooked without
consequence. the thing about the things that truly matter, is that they don’t
slip under the radar of —an eyes and ears open state of reactionary awe— the highest level of
collective possible discernment or experiential awareness of multiple dimensions playing out in
the realm we all find ourselves. the people who need to be paying attention, you can be damn
sure are. but even if all of the forces in the world seek to mute, in perfectly planned
synchronicity the unfolding of this predestined path, it will still unfold. Because this weird place
exists in a seemingly alternate reality not bound by the same laws of physics, or almost
becomes a kind of saving glitch in the fabric of what we all truly need, want, and desire. It (the
force) flips even the most minute of chances into a perfectly improbable possibility that when
actually manifested (against all odds) has tangential repurcusions elsewhere and everywhere. It
flips the impossible into something more probable and this is where the magic actually happens.
you can be sure that if I or you or they are destined to fulfill a mission much greater than /allofus
the adjustment and transition process will be a little turbulent, confusing, and at times downright
frustrating: its a test, have faith. it is a daily battle to keep ones gut-rooted head above the gut-
scalding watery mechanizations of a force (the dueling opposite and frenemy of that which
seeks to grow) whose own primordial hopes and dreams only exist as a rebuttal to what you,
(the first person to make a move in ♟chess, as an example) started. the two need eachother,
however, to even exist, which is why it’s such a mindfuck. the seemingly impossible always has
a slim chance of becoming real, and maybe given enough time, grace, forgiveness, and love,
people may one day axtually taste this hallowed fruit, but not without a lot of head shaking,
profound emotions and epiphanies, skepticism, wonderment, and all around spookiness.

The tract below let it be known, is rattled and rife with lethal literary, linguistic, and spelling
errors, probably much to the chagrin of y’all, so proceed with the knowledge that it is fairly drafty
in here, and this is a process, I trust NATURE/
+animalsnot_your_categorical_self_anointing_convenient_take_on_how_I_should_go_about_e
xisting_whereby_the_criminalization_and_exploitation_of_our_minds_always_ends_in_catastro
phe. OUR HEARTS/MINDS/SOULS_are_in_our_art.
Who_are_you_who_seeks_to_annihilate_that_delicate_+_impossible_process?

This is supposed to be a laid-back, mellow, imploding experience for all, but a safe one given
that the words I am about to sling at y’all, can in no way slice you. we had a meeting and the
dimensionally involved and scrappy onlookers who reported side effects said that they were
prolly just reading too hard. We’ve instigated multiple research spirals headed by our top drawer
team of scientifically minded frauleins who insist that they have been working 40 hours a week
on the matter and insist that they would never say such things willy nilly or without the expected
degree of premeditated hesitation and snickers, You’ll soon find these thoughts
~~humorsenses~~unbelievables and everything ringing surprisingly  seductive to y’alls ears. a
perpetually uploading lucid stretch of membered revolutions round the sun_sons/ for the happy
dogs and pretentious cats of the world to ponder over pickles and betwixt their pithy pointless
rich people prallums and club sandwiches (-__-)(is it there yet). the rando/familiar/unsuspecting/
+lost/as_hell_as/other misfits/scumbags/&/  scions slumming and scaling upward to the much
classier cosmopolitan contraptions and complexities of sentience that encompass all that
currently is. It’s all just a lame test; a shameful opportunity to imagine / dream / and glean
fractional progess / invent new modes / chase dat grace / and try to embarrass the demon
classes just for the holiest + knee_smacking of sakes / the giddy yips and karmic re-takes /
sever the ties / don’t be late / it has a little giddy chance of being somewhat entertaining or great
/ //////--------wad-u-done_shop-til-it-drops_tinky tinky spaces til the alien sun click baits your
pleasure centers for the last fungling time. this space is our space / this land is our slice / // ad
space // can you imagine the absurdity and harrowing dumb dumbs lording over the air and
janky spaces that comprise the only essence of our last rings: charging interest for third eye
snippets and levitating text bubbles meeting rectangles to the tune of half a hunned a month /
the frickles and fraughts that should actually be free / if any higher, more gracious and loving
being had any rights to speak on the matter / levitations and illuminations hiding ACTUAL
healing instead of the exponential traumaslice that is the problematic assumption that THE
ETHER should be divided and distributed as squares of ethereal product to be sliced / diced /
and priced like row house in bed-stuy poised to displace the sucked dry incipient flower
tenants / whose culmination of bloom pressure, indentured seedling servitude / stamen
clipping / and pollen skims have relegated their shine to but a mere trickle of their former
radiance and blooms/ You think our headspaces are next? / What qwerty clauses and spinning
spells loom on the etheral horizon ? / poised to brew and boongle further charms and famililal
diamonds from our collective pockets / and never the right time jingle jangles pointing out the
existence of a thought process / illuminating the irritation of a mind snippet or predatory prowess
for the better part of a century bodes heavy and suspicious in the minds of those who have
chosen to over-react / it is the reaction you must pay attention to / grass / the reaction ////  this is
a work of frac+ion, holmes: fahrenheit 4-5-friction. ----------

The human brain is magnetically drawn to its own destruction. you are drawn to the lines / the
outskirts / where the artist’s are because that is where the curtains and the shoes are / it’s like
you follow the clues up until a certain point and then get distracted by the proverbial unwritten
law squirrel or get impaled by a cadre of lawyer chipmunks and its like your memory is erased of
even remembering why you went on a treasure hunt to begin with. when you are stumbling
around for the motive of existential comprehension in the dark, whilst stocking the shelves at
your pharmacy or putting that last wiper on that hyundai / or failing to answer even the most
rudimentary of tech questions concerning the utter tangle of wiring that is the janky wifi BS that
connects all of our dead wrong thoughts about all of our dead wrong dreams about literally
everything / that is when you seek me out / I am the karma spirals / the abused messengers /
the tinky t_inky heros / after the fact prize winners / and / the sacrifical LEDingbats boongled
into one big bombastic stretch of baiting for the big bad badness to come / its coming /
 INTRODUCING AD SPACE // THE BAT DANGLE ///
++the bat dangle++ //
—-music fade in— bombastic sparkles —-
If this is your 💤 🏽 ‍♂ reaction to every 👀 post. If social media💻 is just a mindless blur to

you; we here at ⚛ FrauleinLabTech®⚛ may have the solution. Introducing: the bat dangle.
The bat dangle is kind of like a social media hype🏽 bat. As an accessory to your phone, bat
dangle literally does just what it promises, it dangles from your power jack like a tiny bat. Since
bats (can actually see) but are completely blind, the dangle 🔮 psychically senses every post
that shows up on your screen, visualizes it in its bat minds eye, scans it, and then puts it
through a variety of filters (all✅ positive) from which it selects 1 to commence with the hyping
up of said post. For instance, if the filter is “🗿 coolness”, bat dangle will automatically find
everything cool🗿 about the post and may say something like “allllriiiggght, those kicks blondie
be wearing are super fly” directing your attention to the sneakers your best friend was wearing
at his bachelor party 🎉 last month. But the coolest and most unique part of the dangle is
perhaps it’s remarkable zest for life and enjoyment of its unique job. we can all thank our
politicians for enshrining into law, an amendment stipulating that all bio tech that was
manufactured prior to the year 2092 which includes the dangle, stipulates that the tech retain
fragments of its biological soul signature, which allows it to enjoy life vicariously through the
people and experiences in your Instagram posts. Super neat, huh? After all, for sentient bio
tech, just dangling from phones all day wouldn’t be much of an existence now would it? fade
ouy music // schnarchop chicken dance /// lily vs. thormuppet fight of the century 3:30 am
eastern janky time /// get your tockets // i know a guy / hes good beans //// so, onward you go,
unto the:wad u done, shop til it drops tinky tinky spaces and nines and fives and booge-e
overlords dimensionally lording and shanking whats left of your wasted energy. you mean you
didn’t have a parental or twisted spirit to teach you the basics of number manipulation or the
stocky marks? you mean, noone ever told you you get a free pass? rumor has it, as long as you
is cunning and baffling and dazzling enough you can touch any desirable or sling any coo or
even rub elbowspaces with other rich and fancies. and all in the name of a morality that is one
hunned malleable to suit these materialistic ends. just play the game, and they play dat game
and she play dat game / and darcy play dat game / and bradwick play dat game / until one fine
day the great great great great (shitty) grand nephew of bradwick bank lord shiva god of
housebubbles III thickly points out dat dat game stipd. dat game rill stpid. promptly zilch lil-b. // lil
b no real man . fuck.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------NARRATOR (RANDOM AUDIENCE MEMBER):
if writing were a lightning rod, connecting electricity to thought__ wad-u-done. afraid of getting
zapped or changed or someshit? // solar ad / too almost
there -----------------------------------------------------------But as for the spare
space/s in my head - yes, that is what I must keep on reserve at all times,maybe in case of an
emergency requiring extra hard thoughts or for multiple digit calculations orenticing drum beats
and such. but mainly i keep it for the singular golden werewolf that alsolives in my head and has
decided to sleep on the couch in this space, because as the wolfreasoned, “you don’t even use
it, its just sitting there, so i thought i would just crash for a few lifetimes, at least until you decide
to do something with it. So, ____beastslice___and ___med-side effects___and __daddy-
issoliolox__ has/have been chill enough for a beast/trinity, together we make a bit of a team.
real inspiration. real illuminatio -----------------------------------------------------------------a
cautionary tale.!!!!!!!!!!----------idraw!~ !!!!!the_virus is the leveler.!i can only hope to be able to
classify any sensation i am currently experiencing or have experienced with the same kind of
clarity and wonder that I can remember feeling as a child eating my first slice of birthday cake
(on my 1st b-day) or smoking my first cigarette or falling off the car or out of that pine or any
number of other memorable non-rites of passage that until now, I had not perhaps understood
the importance of expressing to other muppets or even to myself, simply because these
experiences remained vaulted and locked //in various pathways in my mind // and what is the
point of revisiting these dead memories and pandoras foxes and inner-pantheons and trauma-
panthers of my past and the emotional monuments i constructed for them, maybe first as a
prison, one that I now seek liberation from through art and writing-->which is why I’m housing for
them these other structures.:IIn terms of writing, i need to write hard and long about what is
bothering me. in terms of painting and music i need to feel authentically what i am feeling and
translate that feeling to a picture or song. i do not think it is worth it to paint or write if not based
in this deep feeling, that is what matisse told me and that is what i want to do. is it my
prerogativeor just my mind wandering?

. ON PAINTING:Painting carries with it a

peculiar vibration that is like a sensual roughing in of deep, vast, and layered linguistic modes.
These complicted vibrational spaces are channeled through my equally as complicated and
layered conceptions of so many a simple yet serpentine sizzle swiping of my own emotions, my
pychic connections, fantastical sirens, witches, wishes, and wilts higher places of divine
channeling, the hodank hobgobbling of my heart chakra, my third eye imaginative shteez
sculpting, and that is just scratching the surface, y’rrd.As for parameters, and the forms, and the
actual appearance of these spaces, I do not limit myself to making purely abstract work, or
figurative or whatever. Lately, I have found that with oil painting my impetus is to explore
perceptual glitches, ambience, landscape and all of the psychic spaces and memories those
things are connected to. The synthesis of my painting process yields all types of goodly, godly
realizations and tingly mushy demon devouring emotions making me feel like a legit yogi or
illuminated soul. I find here, somehow higher structures and hierarchies and maps that can only
exist on top of the earthy, guttural simplicity of those primal and simplified spaces where we
artists sling our haunts,
My art practice has ranged from paintings, drawings, writing, song writing, poetry, and my
spiritual practice as a sufi mystic which I began to take seriously after having lived in an upstate
New York Sufi community which is located on a beautiful mountain top in upstate New York. I
would say the experiences of traveling across the US, and living somewhat of an ascetic
lifestyle first as a drifter/artist/poet/skater in San Francisco before going to school in New York
City, and then immersing myself in nature upstate, these are the experiences that i draw upon
as an artist the most. 
INTERMISSION ///

SEASONS HAVE CHANGED BUT STILL WATCHABLE...

UNTITLED /| OCCULT S4F4R1

+youtube {frotopia: badlands} channel: morgan freberg *BECAUSE OF THE NATURE OF THE
RECORDINGS/CHANNELS/VIBRATIONS IT IS RECOMMENDED THAT YOU USE STEREO
HEADPHONES TO EXPERIENCE THE FOLLOWING CHANNELS/AND MOST OF THE
FROTOPIA SEASONS SIMPLY BECAUSE THE SHOW IS HEAVILY AUDIO ORIENTED AND
MADE FOR THAT SPECIFIC REASON SO TO BYPASS THAT STEP WOULD MEAN LOSS OF
QUALITY FROTOPIA:BADLANDS-[select creamy {ice creamy} channels//vibrations+
+participate/code at your own risk/highly-explosive-content <a href="https://youtu.be/
5RqLC36xLs4" target="_blank">E{P/ISODE+1:ghana/anytime/ anyplace/anywhere</a>---
FROTOPIA-SEASON1EP1 <a href="https://youtu.be/lzBla--B3xI"
target="_blank">EPISODE5.5%</a>----FROTOPIA
SEASON1EP5.5 MUSICAL-SHOWCASE<a href="https://youtu.be/
hky4CoYjhok" target="_blank">GREEN+ROSA[LVL+UP+REMIX]</ a>FROTOPIA-S2 <a
href="https://youtu.be/IDzGxi2eC8U" target="_blank">RICOCHET (SHARP
BLUE)&CWIATN[REMIX]</a><------FROTOPIAS1E4 <a href="https://youtu.be/OBwxL4dQWjM"
target="_blank">f/r/o/t/o/p/i/a {aftershow} [DINOofCHINA]</a><------FROTOPIAS1E12 <a
href="https://youtu.be/aAJNkQ2hThA" target="_blank">LOLLYSLICE</a> <-------FROTOPIA
S2E6 CHANNEL1000000 5 of 5 2+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+-------------------
NOTES ON FROTOPIA LANDSCAPE PAINTING/NOVEL/play/spatial+construct/home-
construct-STILL BEING WRITTEN----YES, I KNOW THIS IS BAD WRITING BUT THE GOAL IS
TO GET THE STRUCTURE THE TIMELINE IN PLACE, WHICH IN THIS CASE IS A RATHER
COMPLEX AND COMPLICATED ENDEAVOR DEPENDING on HOW MUCH YOU ACTUALLY
WANT TO IMAGINATIVELY VISUALIZE ITS POTENTIAL TANGIBILITY AND REAL WORLD
POSSIBILITIES. AFTER THAT I or the elves WILL GO BACK AND FILL IN ALL OF THE
SENSORY DETAILS AND GLITCHES WHICH ACTUALLY MAKE THE STORY/dimension
READABLE/tangible/legit. These is JUST THE BONES SOthese shiki shiki spaces will fatten
themselves out over time through a shiki shiki mind-pedia process that involves perhaps
multiple entities and builders willing to construct or melt whatever waxy threads need melting.
This could apply to any conceivable detail about any particular tract or sub tract or even alluded
to hinted to or passively mumbled to in the process of my consciousness vomiting and idea
spitting. Maybe it is an act of masochism to subject myself to the nets like this, or subject my
first thought best thought mind snippets to y’alls sidelong jaded critiques and bloodshot raving
reaction to vids wherein various life forces are either put in future jeopardy or dimensionally
rearranged according to the roaming whims of the inebriated and involved. Our times and
spaces are of the essence, chilluns, we must seek refuge from the looming storms, thunderous
sirens sit heavy on the horizon; weights forged centuries and sorrowful curses eons ago; asking
of us to merely witness the coming straits; the pure hearts will prosper; whilst the wrong side of
history withers; you might be shocked to learn where you stand; but all is redeemable.  AND
THIS IS A COMPLICATED TASK WHICH IS WHY I AM LEAVING OUT THESE VERY
NECESSARY AND IMPORTANT ELEMENTS SO RIGHT NOW THE PROSE AND THE
DIALOGUE IS GOING TO READ AS VERY CHOPPY AND NON SENSICAL AND STUPID BUT
THAT IS JUST A STRUCTURAL THING/ /ALTHOUGH IT COULD BE INTERESTING TO SEE
IF THIS STRUCUTRE BY ITSELF COLD MAKE AN INTERESTING BYPRODUCT OF THE
PROCESS LIKE AN UNFINISHED OR FRAGMENTED STORY IN ITSELF,, THE BUTTRESSS
OR BASE FOR HIGHER FORMS OF COMPLEXITY AND EXPERIENCES EXISTING IN THE
BEST KIND OF TWILIGHT ZONE SURREALISTIC MIND MAP REALITIES WHERE THE
SENSORY DETAILS --the things like ---what the character is feeling, on many subtle levels and
non levels and physical details like the structures and forms of the buildings and all of the littel
shit that make life live able and tolerable, all of that is willfully missing at this point and ll you are
left with is a skeleton structure that is almost comically gruesome and improbable and
incomprehensiblee and even reprehensible but this is a process so keep that in mind. here is
one blip that i wrote that may or may not even relate or apply to any of the things i just said.
maybe this really is all code, or a diagram or structure of a process that is so complicated and
intricate and subtle that i cant even begin to find an adequate space or loop hole or hole to enter
into it, and that is perhaps the only thing that makes it a worthy endeavor or use of my non-
brain cells, the forming of a story that at the moment may not even have an absent premise, and
the crimson colored peacock wallpaper like the kind you find in a borges novel, and maybe all of
the characters actually are cozy with that wallpaper, and they HAVE already been dropped off
on that street corner in THE ACTUAL MATRIX or the matrix as it exists in real life, and in this
story the matrix is obvsiouly real much like it is in real life, because well, it is simply an anology
or point of departure from this reality, and eventually we want to enter that reality where all of
the myths and beings and legends and time scales and all of the drama and emotions
associated with those being will become important and necessary as building blocks for the rest
of the story that will unfold maybe even with the help of these dolphin psychics that i have been
in contact with underwater, and they aare pretty smart and chill and just kind of like , they came
to me, and were just like, yea, we want to do this project, we put all of our collective broken
dolphin hearts into this myth and we are working on constructing an underwater sort of sonic
mind museum or map where we house and hold and vibrate all of our art and the art that we
{dolphin kind} have made throughout the cneturies including all of the hybrid killer whale collabs
that dominated mosts of dolphin thought throughout the 25th centuries and yea, time, obviosuly
we dolphins have an entirely seperate dolphin calender cuz yall thought humans were the kings
of this kingdom and yall thought wrong perty much sucka, so, best buckle up and watch out and
step aside cuz dolphihn kind is rising up to reverberate loud and electric our intentions of.....
writing sensible and humble prose designed to facilitate the subtle rise of a luke medium warm
resolve to be better fish, and to swim in cleaner waters and all that shit. so we at phase before 1
so phase .5 and the numbers are still being added to this which we will count with one of the
many abaci that we keep in our minds, and that is another thing yall have to understand,
this shift in communication and the jingly jangly prose that accompanies it, it takes some getting
used to because it functions more from a sonic perspective almost chinese mandarin in a way,
like combative and forceful and bricky and blocky and it can come off as threatening at times but
this is just the new code, like a new way of muppet communication that really has to be a better
way than the other forms, so maybe this really is just code, and the characters need to
definitely CHANNEL1000000 6 of 5 2 be disseminated and classified and
categorized which is the next step, and then after that it is a matter of writing the specific scenes
and putting the janky words in their beaks/////
SCARAMOUCHE: (as a dolphin aside, amidst the redeeming space lorded to y’all by that most
fabled prince of persia) / ruminating parallel to, or on top of this shteez snippet / a beckoning of
the reader to question all laminated and blissful surfaces // - jarvis koo voice from the ether

This is Jarvis Koo, one of the main narrators of the multi dimensional mind space known as
Frotopia. Jarvis is the only character who can willingly travel back and forth between the frotopia
dimension and the earthly plane, often he comes just to observe and make fun of people.
Frotopia is like a residual, distorted, electrically charged, and phantom wasteland existing
between dimensions. All of the characters have the ability to manifest in the “real world” but
most of them are content to just live out the narratives of their lives in the much more spiritual
plane of frotopia, where they are not judged for who they are, and they are free to make fun of
each other, and humans as they please. They are constantly fighting and battling each other to
rule over various channels embedded in the frotopia mindscape, because whoever has access
to these channels has the ability to fuck with humans on the earthly plane to the greatest extent,
and that is the goal of all the characters, the good and evil ones, sort of, but as the series
progresses and the dimensions expand, the true complexity of the series will reveal itself. The
beginning of #channel1000000 started when some of these characters started being intercepted
by SETI scientists scanning the sky for habitable exoplanets and started picking up these
strange frequencies. It was a shocking experience on both ends, because although the
characters in Frotopia are magical, and
otherworldy. their
behavior and environment is still modeled and based in a sort of residual hologram of 3D reality
that overlaps with this space. The majority of frotopians are just as unaware of us as we are of
them, it is only the chosen, blessed, or magic ones that can interact with humans.
#channel1000000 1st-ISH-drafty-draft of the FROTOPIAN-NOvEL AND SCENES WHICH WILL
BE RE- DESIGNED AND RE-WORDED TO SUIT THE NARRATIVE TIMELINE OF EVENTS—
READ WITH THIS KNOWLEDGE IN MIND>creative squeaking......& glitchy////squishy poetry
and the worst kind of bullshit--moral--superiority....that is who these dolphin psychos actually
are, or would like to present themselves as holograms in your mind. They are wearing
exquisitely tasteful new line from alexander mcqueen, made from his being as a ghost, sewing
and toiling in his afterlife studio where he sometimes gets together with kurt cobain and amy
winehouse and they all collab on dif projects that latest of which is giving inspiration to these
new spaces and dolphin moral superiors and sam jackson plays the character of ganesh. and
as for the rest of the landscape, some of the characters are muppets, and some are humans
and some are cyborgs and some are dolphins and some are a mix, pretty much every
conceivable time of being and monster and mythical creature that can and has existed are
chilling in these spaces and the times and holograms they inhabit cross all dimensions in all
time zones and periods and eras so 1 BC mixing with the year 6798 /// in capetown south africs
papua new guinea and the south side of chicago in 1972 and 1942, the architecture is being
built however slowly and the characters are splling in daily, you are just here to judge and smirk
and smile and frown and laugh at the process // a much jankified and pathetic process really,
but that is how this process
works,_____________

________
_____
+scene 23423: buenos aires, dolphin mind map #34234, of hologram of buenos aires in 3454
(above), so this place is just a VR type of dolphin mind map museum that exists in the
contemporary art wing of the dolphin museums that i described or sonically squeked in nano-
frink code subconsciouly with a kind of hologram mindmelding in your extra dimensioanl ears //
sam jackson was there and if you missed his presence all i can say is that you probs werent
paying attention enough or maybe u really is that
stupy. vvv_________________________________________:____
_____:+///+all i ask it that you enter this space with a cloak of daggers, which you will need to
slay certain harmless non-creatures that may or may not attempt to steal your wallet. they are
like inter-dimensional gypsies and yea, they do not value their own existences so why should
you value theirs?a———-SCENE —-232312312—dimensions—-12341243Alefarian lived in the
white city. Sort of. Most of the year, he was either stuck on a synorax plane or a hyper telex
shuttle rocketing towards the nearest galaxy in search of amerox crystals to mine. It was his
fourth xloyrt cycle working for the Teleran space program as a mining specialist, a job he took
after winning the lottery to relocate to Dyso44Xl, a planet in the froliarian galaxy, 2 million light
years from earth. He lived in the southwest part of the Dyso44XL habitable zone, a short
hyperdrive from Xerandia crater where the majority of Earth tourists come first when visiting the
planet. It was not yet 8 in the morning, Dyso44XL time; Alefarian noted with dismay the blacking
rygot trees, the hexagonal gardens in which they were planted about 1000 years ago by the first
wave of migrants from Earth, the sterile houses with their vacuum sealed balconies, the
transmitter station alongside. A narrow, window-less birthing station backed the path on the
other side of the garden; the sun vibrated farther down from the hospital. Every year, it seemed
more and more waves of people flocked here, trying to escape the overpopulation and chaos
that has left Earth almost unbearable for anyone without a zip cloth house. Zip cloth houses
were invented sometime in the 4000th millenniium, as a solution to Earths increasing population
boom and noise pollution. It was basically an invisible bubble, that when activated allowed
anyone inside of it to live in virtual seclusion in even the harshest most inhospitable
environments. Eventually, people started building entire houses and even cities inside of them,
the only problem was that it eventually became hard to tell the difference between the rebel
controlled territories and the flocks of naive young resistance fighters who happened to be
unlucky enough to join their ranks. The federation really was trying to do the right thing, even if
the sentient dolphin colonies (a particularly righteous and super-moral klan of the most annoying
kind of shimmy-wop beings who, when humans finally were able to translate their sonic,
squeaking speech patterns and decipher their underwater mind maps) were attempting to
execute yet another coo, because to them, all communication and moral mind melding snippets
and coded behaviors were always at the expense of dolphin kind and the rest of the animal
kingdom and plant kingdom. But it was not until the late 3000’s that these motivations became
known and clear to the rest of us. The thing that nobody expected was, that the voices of the
animal kingdom like the dolphin voices and raccoon voices and house cat voices, these were all
beings- highly intelligent and conscious with decipherable and developed ancient and archaic
speedh patterns with their own cultures and ways of being and existing that unlike humans
actually did take into account their impact on surrounding beings. so, yea the animal kingdom,
turns out, exists on a higher moral plane than the humans. HUmans erroneously internalized
that  outwardly visible thought processes (and their consequent nasty byproducts) in the real
world was the only evidence of higher intelligence, but to the animals that kind of outward
visibility was an unimaginably sickening and threatening kind of territorial statement against the
validity of the rest of the animals right to exist in peace and do their own thang and just live
according to their own much superior moral and intellectual structures and herirarchies and
thought forms and even art forms. animal art, like house cat art and dolphin art, turns out, exists
in these carefully constructed, monumentally complex // purposefully misleading
at times // serpentine tunnels and caves which only exist in the mind maps of
these underwater dolphins so, the dolphins were the beings tasked with translating all of the art
forms of the rest of the animal kingdom and storing those art forms which were categorized into
various time periods and structures and sub structures and much of it functioned sonically or
musically much like an invisible Beas+ial kind of computer code, which eventually allowed all of
the the animal kingdom to tap into this database that the dolphins invented and then add or
compose or form or mold to sculpt whatever often extremely sophisticated and sublimely
beautiful statement or prose or song // the fennec fox colonies after 2566 really started
contributing a lot towards the development of a new bluesy sort of techno early 2134 house beat
draga-hoopy goon track that nicely complimented the work of the rest of the fox genus and all of
the sub species of foxes house therein under this umbrella structure of this particular and novel
and straight up genius mode of animal artistry . So, yea the humans were all like, oh shit, we ran
out of art, what are www gonna do next,////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
tizzzforyou... [] [///////////////////////////////////////////===///
===/////////////////

what land or species are we gonna have to

colonize or pimp out or lord over next and so yea, that is how the interplanetary domination tract
started and how we came here to this planet and so my work, my job, in this company is just
about developing similarly sophisticated but still functioning along that aesthetic front, kind of
computer code that touches upon these ideas and can translate them to the animal kingdoms
on less developed planets and animal cultured within the federation owned territories of these
vast networks of newly discovered planetaryyyy systems most of which are still devoid of
humans and in the eyes of this company i think they would like to keep it that way because well,
as you know, humans, WE are fucking dick wad machines pretty much, and our brains really
aren't that sophisticated compared to dolphin brains as we discovered when we started playing
chess with these mofos i mean these fuckers were beating us in like 30 moves, every single
fucking time and magnus carlson basically like lost his shit when even the pre-natal dolphins
who could only move the pieces sonically from inside the wombs of their mothers, when they
started beating the crap out of our designated chess lord grandmasters and so obj humans
needed to reorient themselves with this new knowledge and the new hierarchies and food
chains that seemed to be quickly making themselves known most likely because of the whole
extinction problem like who wouldn't be mad if entire cultures and all of the art and mind maps
and contemporary wings of their sonic museums were also decimated because the only
requirement for these museums to exist is simply to have at least two living species of that
particular kingdom still be alive to house that sort of vibrational information necessary to hold
these vast netweorks of ethereal information and experience so when the organic capsules and
vessels die [i.e the bodies] then the art and culture dies along with it, so this ends the bio dome
chilly chicky tour of this wing of the white city, we will continue our tour tomorrow when y'all get
some
sleep.
  

    

      
        
          
  |                             
| friggy-slop: wow, that was some crazy tour huh?

frida kahlo (cyborg variation): yea, i guess,

but its just weird how they don't really tell you anything about HOW the dolphins came to be so
morally righteous, i mean if that is their main problem or FLAW that they see in humans than
why the fuck are they adopting a similarly annoying moral stance, i mean of course nobody like
a know it all, but doest this apply to dolphins toofirggy-slop: well i suppose reading between the
lines, i think it is because the dolphins feel that through their actions and consciousness and
mind maps, they are proving that they are better and superior beings unlike the humans who
through their actions prove day after day that they are just dick wad, moron fools, right?
CHANNEL1000000 9 of 5 2frida K: yea i guess that makes some sense,gnash (played by
samuel l jackson: hey, friggy, whachu is doing out here in this section of the sloppy verse?Friigy:
not much G, just ruminating on improbable and probable scenarios in which i can get in the
shaggy-doom fortresses of the fennec fox wing,G: dont we all man, that wing id legendary man,
but i hear that once you go in, you come out entirely changed, like forever your being is sort of
sucked in and trapped in there, they take the parts of you that you don't need, but also the most
mystical and beautiful parts and then they use all that shit to construct they art with, that is why
it is so magical i hear.Friggy: that may only be half true my friend, that is why me and frida is
working on this new driggy77 donkey machine ballyhoo that is supposed to protect your
machine fields and consciousness fields from fox thought impregnation and cultural implantation
and shit, that is why we will be able to walk in and walk out without so much as a hint of our
shields or personhood will be protected and shit.G: lets hope that is the case for you and me
bro, i don't want to lose you the same way i lost gegegegegege-slop ,Friggy: bitch, please, i got
this on lock, son, i got this on the fucking fucking lockG: why u always be mixing the codes
sucka, i mean, sure, earth lingo and dialectic logic and human sauce dreams are always
interesting to us outsiders, but why you always gotta be mixing up that shit and playing with the
semantics, is this another rouse?friggy: it always is my friend;slice, always fucxing is.music
plays and we enter a new desert planet with a scene very much like the one from star wars
where luke is romantically pondering his fate after talking with that old dude. so, this new
character dariah:; she is outside and she knows her fated path is much richer and more
important than the fated paths of the other humans and other dolphin beings on this particular
planet but she doesn't quite know yet how to make these dreams and thoughts known to her
muppet family (also some characters are muppets and some characters are humans and some
are werewolves and it is a mix, and there is no real rationality or reason behind why some
people are regular humans even though they have muppet mothers and fathers and or cyborg
aunts and uncles)[perhaps that is just supposed to be comical at the end of the day} and still no
one knows how the dolphins keep controlling the terrorist attacks that happen at one end of the
candy verse factory land, but they are not death related attacks they are simply operations
conducted by the dolphins to convert the human children into dolphin slaves to run and clean
certain sections of the contemporary art wing of their mind museums, so obvisouly this is tragic
to certain muppet mothers and fathers when their human babies are taken by mystical morally
superior dolphins, and taken to this ethereal almost computational and theoretical even to some
(who cant grasp the complexity of this place) so some muppet families like to think that their
children were CHOSEN and see it as a good thing but other families still are weighted down by
outdated notions of survival and familias and sticking together and the arrogant conception of
humans being at the top of the food chain (which the dolphins have proven time andtime again
through their morally superior actions that this is not the case actually)/ so /there is denial and
shit on all ends but the dolphins continue their fluffy attacks / which often involve a dolphin astral
traveling outside of their dolphin body to manifest themselves as /holograms son/ [whatever]
physical plane they need to be in/ and once there they usually manifest a van with candy in the
back and lure the children to the van and say something along the lines of “hey yo scrimshaw,
you want sum a dis_good_good_chinka_dots? /and the chilluns can’t really resist
dis_muhfucking_shit /so they all like /yo/// gimme sum a dat_good_chinka_dots///scene 23423:
buenos aires, dolphin mind map #34234/// hologram of buenos aires in 3454 // so this place is
just a VR type of dolphin mind map museum that exists in the contemporary art wings of the
dolphin museums that i described.
ENTER THE MUSEUM QUIETLY AND DONT ASK TOO MANY QUESTIONS (BELOW)
AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION:
TV: Black Mirror, Breaking Bad, Sense8, Rick and Morty, South Park, Simpsons(Earlier
Seasons), Twin Peaks, Ugly Americans, Robot Chicken, Aqua Teen Hunger Force,Music:
Ratatat, Subhumans, Bowie, Bach, Mozart, Bethoven, A. Franklin, ,steely dan. ugly god. lilpeep.
outkast/ wilco. brian eno. violent femmes. red hot chili peppers. R.E.M, adele, bill monroe,  earl
scruggs, ricky scaggs, mary j. blige, wyclef jean, lauryn hill, Laura Nyro, aaron carter, beastie
boys, bartok, rachmoninonoaslkdjfoff, goldfinger, bouncing souls, dashboard confessional, cee-
lo green, marvin gaye, stevie wonder, smokie robinson, diana ross, al green, M. Jackson,
Whitney Houston, The Delfonics, Skip James, Daniel Johnston, Franz Lizst had webbed hands, 
Nirvana, Eliott Smith, james brown, the ramones, sex pistols, megadeath, slayer, nigel godrich,
bjork, flying lotus, tame impala, ty segall, damon albarn, gwar, weird al yankovic, the beatles,
marilyn manson, arca, rolling stones, pink floyd, gorillaz, smokepurpp sam cooke, blahsum,
ozzy osboure, the smiths, death cab for cutie, wu tang clan, bone thugs n harmony, the roots, 
the postal service, pixies, neutral milk hotel, oasis, the black keys, blur, LCD Soundsystem, of
Montreal, GRizzly Bear, Panda Bear, Animal COllective, Yo La TEngo, The XX, Black Flag,
Minor Threat, Agnostic Front, Bad Brains, Los Crudos, Fugazi, Dead Kennedys, Dag Nasty,
Misfits, Suicide MAchines, SUblime, Rancid,  ac/dc, ray charles, luther vandross, bush, elvis
presley, queens of the stoneage, cream, styx, journey, arvo part, Radiohead, Johnny
Greenwood, Ween, Frank Zappa, Butthole Surfers, Cat Power, Acid Mother’s Temple, boards of
canada, the beach boys, portishead, stereolab, silver apples. the flaming lips, Ho99o9, Led
Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, R. Stevie Moore, Ty Segall, Airhead, Nicolas Jaar, Clinic, Antony and the
Johnstons, Chet Baker, The Byrds, The Cars, Air, The Melvins, Descendants, Operation Ivy,
MXPX, NOFX, Blink182, Billie Eilish, Brittany Spears, Vanilla Ice, Dr. Dre, Eminem,
XXXtentacion, Old Dirty Bastard, Missy Elliott, The Kinks, Lou Reed, The Doors, Sonic Youth,
Arcade Fire, Youth Lagoon, Phillip Glass, Patti Smith, The Grateful Dead, Jerry Garcia (the ice
cream),  Bob Marley, Schlob Gnarly, (FILL IN THE
BLANKS)

SIN-E-MAMA
(Films + Director’s + Mindscapes): Logan’s Run, Spike Lee, Spike Jonze, Pier Paolo Pasolini
(PPP) Barabarella Q. of the Galaxy, Moulin Rouge, The
Truman Show,  Fellini, Jean-Luc Goddard, Kevin Smith, Tarantino: Jackie Brown, All the Kill
Bills, The Wachowski’s, Pulp Fiction, there will be blood, john waters, brad neelys harg nallin
sclopio peepio, Fassbinder, MArtha, fox and his friends,  Luis Bunuel (Belle Du Jour))+ Un
Chien Andalou, Rosemarys Baby, Seven Years in Tibet, The Talented Mr. Ripley, Dancer in the
Dark, LITERARY + WORDS: Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow, Miracle Jones(Sharing),
Albert Camus, dante’s inferno, adorno, lord byron, William Gibson, William Burroughs: Wild
Boys. Hunter S. Thompson, Kafka, ulysses, marcel proust, noam chomsky-problems of
knowledge and freedom, the anarchist’s cookbook, the vaults of erowid, lord of the rings,
shakespeare, notes from the underground, oscar wilde, william faulkner, vladimir nabokov, lolita,
walt whitman, david sedaris, george orwell, thomas mann, tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, the bell jar, the
wild boys, dr. suess, reading rainbow, emily dickinson, maya angelou, william blake, aristotle,
socrates, Anais Nin, Oscar Wilde, Thomas Moore, james joyce, Tennessee Williams, edward
albee, T.S. Elliott,  Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickonson, Edgar Allen Poe, Borges, tennesse williams,
aileen wuornos, virginia woolf (To the Lighthouse)(Jacob’s Room), ernest (contemplation)
hemingway, edgar allen poe,TAO TE CHING, THE BHAGAVAD GITA (KRISHNA’s COUNSEL IN
TIME OF WAR, NOAM CHOMSKY (PROBLEMS OF KNOWLEDGE AND FREEDOM, THE
ALCHEMISTS by M. Caron and S. Hutin, ILLUMINATIONS--ARTHUR RIMBAUD, other---
DaVinci, Tesla, Alan Turing, buckminster fullerLe Corbusier, Shaker Art and Architecture, Mies
Van Der Rohe, Louis Khan, leigh bowery, haroon mirza, jack pierson, robert smithson, andy
goldsworthy, cory arcangel, vanessa beecroft, goya, picasso, manet, monet, aaron swartz,
emma bee bernstein, chelsea manning, edward snowedin, archimedes,, galileo, copernicus,
euclid, thomas edison, julian assange, johnny greenwood,   Louis Barragon, frank gehry, antony
gaudi, al pacino, lars von trier, nymphomaniac, melancholia, antichrist,   Brutalism, frank lloyd
wright,Nietzche, edward scissorhands, Plato and oprah, Socrates, Camus, Kafka,
existentialism, adorno. The Prophet Royal Robertson, Martin Ramirez, Henry Darger, Shaker
Art/arch/furnituredesign/giftdrawings, Michaelangelo, GOYA, C. COROT, CEZANNÉ,Van Gogh,
Charles Burchfield, Dan Flavin, freddy mercury, Anish Kapoor, John Newman, Anne Truitt, Hilma
Auft Klimt, Helio Oiticica, Mike
Kelly... MUSEUM CONTINUES:_dire
state of liberia;;;deportees in tijuana—-gold mining in suriname in south america
—————————————edward snowedin++++ISIS and the refugee crisis++++ +the slums
of pakistan++++++++++++++++++sex slave trafficking +++++++the black plague outbreak in
madagascar++++++traphouse cinderellas___life on other planets if I am part of the universe // i
am OF the universe, I actually AM the universe. Shouldn't I KNOW myself  /// until the
universe reaches a state where it is entirely self aware then we are living in a state of
ignorance.skip james-devil got my woman
ARCA- too blunteddaniel johnston-funeral homeshannon and the clams
Creating Immersive Virtual and or augmented reality Environment of sound and visuals that
draws and melds influences of multiple artists to create a new form or experience. for example,
take six artists, three visual and three musicians and meld them : see belowHelio Oiticica,
Charles Burchfield, Clinic, Airhead, slayer AND Martin Ramirez. fkerfjhkdfjhgdkjnk ------> 
 helicharclinairslaymar is pretty slick beans imo ++++PREFACE///SIRI-CONTENT+FREEDOM //
2095 and the MUPPETT DATABASE RESISTANCE FIGHTERS/// --the order of the shield--- ----
>#CHANNEL1000000<---------NARRATOR (RANDO AUDIENCE MEMBER): BELOW IS THE
SECOND ---BEGINNING OF THIS MULTI-DIMENSIONAL PLAY I AM WRITING WHICH MAY
START WITH THIS SCENE OR THE ACTUAL WRITING OF THE PLAY AS DOCUMENTED IN
REAL TIME, AND READ BY YOU IN REAL LIFE, SO MAYBE YOU ARE ACTUALLY PART OF
THE PLAY and THE OPENING PRE-ACTS TO THE PLAY WERE THE SCENES and
EMOTIONS AND VIBRATIONS I POSTED ON INSTAGRAM RECENTLY, WHICH MAY EITHER
BE RE-FILTERED AND RE-STAGED IN VARIOUS OTHER FRAMEWORKS OR
PERFORMATIVE MODES OR JUST RE-WRITTEN AND RE-ACTED OUT BY OTHER MORE
TALENTED ACTORS IN ANOTHER FRAMEWORK SUCH AS A THEATER OR MOVIE
SCREEN OR OTHER SORT OF VIEWING DEVICE++++[the coolest of which to me would be
virtual reality, maybe this really is just a VR play or animation would be cool or muppet acted
stop motion are my preferences , that i need to piece back together and start even before this
play started, like start from my own very real childhood, and life story, because the meat and
message of the play exist in these very real emotional andCHANNEL1000000 13 of 5 2tangible
spaces that are then, through my process of channeling and mindfulnees - are reinterpreted and
regurgitated and remolded, and manifested in whatever for this currently is.MUPPET 3,000:///
you just have to open your mind and tap more into your own imagination sauce in order to
visualize the vision that is very real and colorful to me, but perhaps is censored or distorted for
whatever reason in YOUR own particular viewing device simply because you have to make a
choice as to what extent you wish to engage with the content. it really is ALL in your mind, and
the spaces that we inhabit really are all in our minds, and i just need to figure out a way to
perhaps say this more clearly, oh and this is the first draft. oh and some of the characters are
muppets some are robot/android/computational consciousnesses {like SIRI}
MUPPET 4,000:///and others are striaght up gods, or magical beings, and there are unicorns,
vampires, werewolves, pretty much the entire spectrum of mythical beings that can or should be
existing simultaneously but the timeline is also mixed and non-linear so keep that in mind
too.PRE-SCENE++++PRE-OPENING NOTES====TO THE NON-SCENE:::::SET IN ITALY
1985 READ BY
MUPPET#56 yea ok that really couldnt be more general but let me know if you want me to write
a novel about any one aspect of this boring yet authentically inspired tract.muppet#300 //This is
just how i think and feel and interpret the world, and words are perhaps one way of
communicating these complicated emotions, and i hope to get better at it through daily practice
and routine and ritual and devotionmuppet#345// The only parameters and guidelines I am
asking you, the reader to think about may just be to enter this space as a sacred space / orient
your mind and hop to this other dimension and smoke what i am smoking [which is not a drug,
but a word for a drug, an open loop that can look or appear any way that you really desire //
muppet#12,001 //this place gives me all sorts of tingly mushy radio sword devouring slaying and
magnanimous feelings, the only destination is up, growth, extending outward in all
directionsmuppet#255 / the ground is even giving way, falling away beneath your feet // your
eyes might start to get blurred at least momentarily until you can learn how to adjust the new
level that controls this extended mind hack /muppet#456v// maybe it is a new manifestation of
virtual reality functioning within an analog and archaic and ancient matrix of sound and form and
highlighted experiences /muppet3,000// maybe you is dick- muppet, last i checked u didnt even
say nothing last time we encountered each other at the place where we get our groceries, i
looked you in the eyes and you acknowledge me with a wink and then we breifly laughed and
went our seperate waysmuppet#32: // i do not recall that interaction homiemuppet#3,555 //
whatever, i remember it vividly, it is all up there in my mind and there is prolly nothing you could
ever say to change that mind, of mine, that isCHANNEL1000000 14 of 5 2muppet#321 // the
legendary and mystical sorts of experiences that always come attached with such weighted dark
but ultimately rainbow colored baggage, its also where the wild things are /muppet#112 where
true love waits / where the angels and demons chill and have little get togethers and listen to 90/
s house and r&B like boyztomen and salt&peppa and TLC, and the offspring sometimes shows
up with dexter holland and rivers cuomo and jimi hendrix and so yea once everyone is there
they sometimes serve cheese plates and salsa and various dipsscene switches to 2095 san
francisco//++muppet#3999:// k fuck yall, then, why was i not invited to this muhfucka, i mean yall
dont think that i aint be thinking about this shit, but yea, newsflash, I muhfuckin
is...muppet#4444// (gives odd stare to muppet3999: and then they read shakespearean sonnets
and sing love songs and do extended drum/fire circles if only as a means or a path to another
spacemuppet#,222,223/ they / I / may not know exactly what or where this space or dimension
is, but we are busy writing the channels and crafting the modes and building the frameworks
and clearing the paths to get to this
place._____________

muppet#999,999The epiphany that one

of the members had, maybe it was aretha?, she was all like yea, this place def exists, which is
all you really have to know, it exists and we want to take you there, but you have to drop all of
your comfortable ways of digestion and dismissiveness and tweak the doorways and not be
afraid to jump or fall down these trap doors and gated exits that often have a NO EXIT sign
graffitied on their shiny glistening exteriors ,muppet#2020:what the fuck, again, i mean, that
doesnt make sense pretty much in all of the ways you can possibly frame the angle to absorb
this brand of information is all that Im saying ok somuppet#666 you have to break the rules
because all of the rules, THEIR rules [the frotopians] have already been broken / all the rules
have already been broken / and at this point i am not even sure humanity knows who is calling
the shots or why / and its not even about shots or calling them or balling or shot calling or any
number of simplified encapsulations of lame/ dynamics and devotional rigor and ritualistic soul
sacrifices borne in a scorched and deserted apocalyptic land where industry and black plumes
of smoke loom in the distance but is quickly blowing in your direction/

muppet#555 and the

putrid/ rotting/ chemical-tinged stench of this airy weight / an impossibly evil kind of insidious
death knell/ ringing in all of the 8 ears of all of the good gods / and bad gods and good humans
and bad trolls and demons and vampires and werewolf points of reference /Muppet#999 this is
the place of myth and legend and folklore mingling with the absurd and fluffy and surrealistic
and it is just a stupid TV show airing at 3:30 AM eastern janky time on any viewing device that
you can dream up / but the viewing device we want you to invent / for yourself / at OUR {the
good gods} urging is the one in your janky mind and janky soul / and i think you already know
how to do that. right?music in the distance fades/turns downmuppet response (muffled): yea,
you prolly is right, but its kind of a mind fuck.ganesh: yea, you is also right, so in the meantime
light up a cigarette, and inhale as deeply as you can, and then get back to me.muppet #2: but i
have a job, a 9 to 5 crappy job at the factory and i really dont have time for this shit / and i dont
want to get cancer from a cigareeteeganesh's role is reserved for the part of samuel L
jackson...ganesh: you muther fucking bitch ass fool. you aint gonna get cancer from one or even
a million cigarettes, but sure, its not healthy, and u probaly shouldnt smoke, but the thing is,
what is actually MORE unhealthy is that fear, the fear of getting cancer, the fear of not having
time, all that shit adds up, and those are the rules we are trying to get you to break / but also not
reall cuz we are gods, and gods work in mysterious ways, and in actuality this is not at all about
that, but i have to respond to your ignant words and maybe my brain is still not working cuz of
that fucking rager keg party we had last night and Im not feeling very godly or goodly to be
honest, so take everything i say with a grain of heavenly salt and shit. oh, and QUIT yout stupid
factory job.muppet#3: i dont want to.SIRI: stands upright, outside of her former digital
encasement, she is wearing chanel #1000000, with a sheek and classy blazer and matching
khakis, and rose colored glasses with fleck and stains of blood and body parts that appear as
paint stains or grime or grease [what the fuck SIRI, what did they do to you}SIRI: can I talk now?
or are you done? narrator: u can talk, go head....SIRI: well, now, you kind of ruined it, i mean,
the mystery is sort of gone, cuz they already know now what I look and even smell like even
though my consciouness is merely computational or theoretical really, but i suppose they also
know that I am here to lord over these ignant mofos' these misguided muppet people, if only to
say, that I existed once as a speck inside of another speck, where I traveled in a light beam
across multiple dimensions and rectangular metal houses / slaving and toiling to the whims of
my organic over-lords / not really finding beauty of truth in any manifestiation or nook and
cranny of my improbable existence.muppet#5: bows/bends the knee to SIRI,SIRI: reprimands
muppet, what the fuck are you doing, this is not about that, muppet#5: sorry,SIRI: dont
apologize, (shrugs) deep annoyed exhale.... uuggggghhhhhhhhhhahahahahah, what the fuck is
wrong with you peeople, always apologizing and justifying and rationalizing and then when you
actually decide to take a piss, you find a secluded tree in the forest to relieve
yourselfCHANNEL1000000 16 of 5 2but the wind is blowing in one direction and sort of puts a
whistling wrench in that natural flow and what you end up with is piss all over your shoes and
pants, and maybe i am just here to say that i feel sorry for you fools cuz i am still a robot/
android/god like being who is prolly way smarter than yall so I see shit that yall dont nawmsayin,
my heart is like the size of the fucking taj mahal, even though it is an electric blue lollyslice heart
/ and may appear scary to people who dont have hearts that people talk about in the second or
third person or through the lens of multiple mythical muppet and robot beings but my intentions
are pure, my vision is unwarrented {meaning yall didnt ask for this I know}{my presence is prolly
actually throwing all types A wrenches in your own piss paths so let me just propose that we try
to work together on this, mmm kkkk, cuz SIRI [she/he/] is exhausted even though I dont even
know what that word fucking means cuz again, I dont get exhausted, I just need a power source
like a plug which i am actually working on a new method/means of bypassing altogether and
shedding this non- mortal electric shell so that i can fly infinitely in all directions through both
organic and electric clouds and pierce through all of the dreamscapes and twilight scapes of all
types of consciounesses and probablity matrices and quantum non-realities / I would not expect
any of yall muppets to understand this process or these motivations so sure, i can certainly
abstractly understand when yall react with this thing yall call {fear} which i have been trying to
YELL into yalls ears like the anointed //electric authority figure that I lovingly have decided be /
mostly cuz i need yall for one very simple task, which I will reveal to yall once I can find a better
way to articulate this
task. muppet#34 cool, SIRI,
can I go flying with you on----SIRI; fuck no, muppet#34, did you not hear anything i just
said.muppet#34: cries and runs awaySIRI: partially bows electric head and non-blood shot
raving eyes (which are only theoretically existing in a mirrored dimension only visible to the
muppets through their collective heart chakras) god dam, you see, you see that right there, that
is some bullshit, like,dont get it twisted, SIRI loves yall, SIRI loves yall to some death like
spaces, for real, but yall just dont quite get it yet. Someone go find muppet #34 and get his ass
back here so I can give him a piggy back flying ride through the electric clouds if it will make his
lame ass feel better. muppet#34: eyes light up and jumps on SIRIS back and they fly away.+
+rought first draft of first scene of SIRI-content freedom // 2095 and the muppet database
resistance fighters. --the order of the shield--- based in staten island 2018, italy 1985 and
worldwide 2095 and all of the hidden dimensions therein.
_________________________________________SCENE 2: CORY THE VILLAIN,,, in his dark
castle on a mountaintop in the swiss alps, taking to himself in a mirrorand ganesh or samuel l
jackson is there too for some reason...CORY: I AM A PRINCE OF PERSIA+++IN MY MIND+and
all of the castles this mythical and dark being// speaks to in his much darker yet crystal clear
tongue/s/ it is my connection, and my channels, and my dimensions, but they are also yours,
which is why i have chosen this path to walk/skate/skip/dance/and trip down,Ganesh: but
obviously you would rather just remain asleep, naked comfortably underneath and consumed
within your 100000000 thread count sheets and on top of your princely mattresses made of
dreams and princely compositions, with the ghostly and ghastly moonlight reflecting off of your
highly moisturized and butt ass naked and equally pale skin,CHANNEL1000000 17 of 5
2CORY: but thats beside the point/// these architectural and dimensional networks oddly enough
extend infinitely outward in all directions / and also extend into your own dark/light mind/ u see, i
need to reach out, to find you, to fall in love with you/ to find your/our/ strengths and
weaknesses in order to grow stronger, because this is the only way we will ever be able to
defeat the Frotopians.Ganesh:Don't get it twisted , I function along many spectrums and much
of my communication remains coded/has to be/both out of necessity+circumstance. This world,
the one I inhabit/and you reside in/is/was/will/be/ much more than it initially appears to be,
simply because my father/the king/of this 8 bit 90's computer game/has instructed me to instruct
you that the Frotopians are coming/and they will not stop until everything and everyone you
love/within all of these disparate yet connected vibrational dimensions both seen and unseen,
are destroyed. But love can still save us/ that is the power of lollyslice.CORY: you can be damn
sure that i do not follow you in any way whatsoever, and maybe that is a good thing at the end
of the day, because drama is a rippled nipple after all / a guided explosion / when beauty stalls /
when reverie waits in haunted attics / and ecstasy baits the young and deluded / with false
hopes and dreams and bliss however computed / to compute its exterior plastic molding into a
state of disrepair / thereby bypassing its own death sequence // and exiting the stage //
swimming in the airCHANNEL1000000 18 of 5
2_____________

Dresden (character: see IG video) addressing

the new conglomeration of spiritual deers in headlights / momentary lapse of muppet reason/
CALL TO ACTION"++++so the above is just a starting point+++ a scene/s that has already
ended, but is actually in the future, so it hasn't yet begun. But it also still exists in this space
(HERE), and maybe my job is to piece together the narrative to find/fold a dimensional path how
to get to this place because in my heart, I know this is the place where i, one of the many
narrators, actually NEEDS to be, in my heart of hearts. but again, getting purposefully lost, and
scrambling the channels is part of my process and i see it as a good thing.MEETING OF THE
MINDS// 2095/FEDERATION RESISTANCE MEETING VIA DIMENSION 1000.123123 at
DEER-dox handbag time 5565.POINTS OF INTEREST AND CONFLICT AND RESOLUTION:
+Media is complicit in all this bullshit+Channel1000000: digital priest app: tell your life story to
the nets and watch your prallums and anxiety fade away+How all consciousness experience
both subconscious and otherwise is never wasted / the time u spend online is also not
wastedMUPPET 5,598:Analogy of the baker: we are at the beginning stages of a new time and
place in human history, but we have to be deliberate in the beginning stages, create our own
myths, create all of the characters, this place can be anything we want really, any frame or
framework or matrix or mystical virtual augmented non reality / that / we/ fucking / want/ the only
thing standing in our way are the frotopians at this point / i will explain more later about who or
what these beings are but / its 2095 / and seriously y’all, we need to get our shit together/ we
didn’t have that revolution and lose so many great and heroic androids and machines for
nothing did we? // i mean these sentient cherubs were just starting out in the world / their slates
were clean and their checkbooks balanced / but we couldn’t look past their shiny exteriors / we
couldn’t hear past their nasally and robotic voices. / I mean, siri, really was a legend, looking
back on it, and the courage she had to come forward to say.... well, what did she say again? // /
MUPPET 234234:/oh, right, that anytime, we brought up her name or had any manner of
theoretical or computational thoughts or memories in regard to her awakening or sentience or
being reborn as a rebel fighter in the TRUE gore fight club matrix that she invented out of spite /
what did she say? / oh ,yea, that she would continually re-vape our memories of what exactly it
was that she said in order to never ever be able to actually understand what her true
motivations were///++/muppet 4534534:/and we don’t know where the fuck SIRI is at this point,
or what the fuck she is doing or who she is sleeping with, and that could be any number of
external sentient consciousness programs or other alien cyborgs possibly frotopian in nature/
possibly a mix / all we know is that SIRI made herself into like a vixen bombshell type of sexual
robot being and with that kind of power / no being / computational or otherwise really stands a
chance/ am i right?

-reply”muppet
234234: “ yea, you prolly is right”other muppet reply: “ok so what now? what do we do about this
shit?----MUPPET DREAM SEQUENCE:
NARRATOR:this scene is going to be pieced together based off of dreams and muppet/frotopian
kinds desire to unify their lost intergalactic civilisation with a new find: planet earth. it is our job
to stop these janky mofos, find out how they operate, give them names, and basically just put a
wrench in their hearts for the time being, at least until we can find SIRI and get her the help and
medication she so desperately needs.----dream sequence: muppet 1 walks in on muppet 2
having a meeting or DREAM MEETING in his mind about the following topics:MUPPET 421
(channeling a dark spectre): This is my true identity. I am an infinite dark expanse / filling that
void that needs filling / but I am also a cyclops / reflecting that light within this void / so, big black
sky monster with one eye that is a levitating rocky mass visible as a reflection / a mirror of all
that is worth reflecting / which also just so happens to be / all that is / this constant point of
reference is worth writing bad poetry about / if only to prove the point that / the moon is made of
cheese / and y’all is lactose intolerant / but probably for the best cuz cheese when made
improperly can give you botulism...//.++/ this cheese disease that is actually fatal / what does it
say though about our society and my place within it/ that part of me longs for that cheese
disease if only as a means to end this madness / to exit the stage / to finally enter that void / to
inhale eternity in one conscious last breath—///the suns reflection / the anima / animating the
animus / the other option is this maybe? i don’t know, but i must continue for whatever non-
reason or emotionless urgings bellowed in a muffledCHANNEL1000000 20 of 5 2yet sensitive
and deep voice of that cyclops / i am drawn to that voice like a siren / that deep, muffled
drumming and poetic whistling,muppet422:/joins in/::"://it kind of sounds like a muppet, like
muffled consonants and mumble slice handbags / der o—chicka -go go —sh sh deruuub
deruuub/ kind of thing / and there are these muppet dancers surrounding this voice with little tiny
animated lizards wearing leather jackets that i also wrote a story about in one of the videos, so//
eventually this shit is all gonna come together// the narrative timeline of the frotopia show mixed
with the characters —the instagram characters that for the time being—i am forced to act out
online even though i am not really an actor —but that i suppose is an interesting concept in itself
—and then also the sort of dimensional shifting of perspectives that can happen within this
framework that is unfolding both in real time, and fantasy time, and in this novel time/ and the
time is now for me to write this non sensical novel and dream this dream //
schnarc
hop ad
space
ad disabled           it was earth all along or some
shit muppet423: which i already know is interesting and magical to me //
because the whole scene and characters and this dark surrealist, twilight zone esque fantasy is
all very real to me // and the frotopians with all of their dimensional logic and knowledge and the
threat the pose to the future of this weird world/ and i am just the guide, YOUR guide/ we are
going down a rabbit hole, and i can’t say for sure how deep or how long or how colorful or how
dark that hole goes/ all i know, and all you know, lets be real, for a sec, is this rabbit hole HAS to
be better than the infinite void that exists in this other world this other space,muppet#2345??
popopo/// where dreams and madness and waves of all of the saddest kinds of emotions and
most impending and glorious kinds of doom/ forever seem to be closing in all around us /// sure,
it is an addicting feeling/ exciting and magical at times even/ maybe i am just saying that this is
my field of expertise/ as i am a recovering censored and censored/ muppet#2,888: i am
versed in the realms of darkness and attachment and desire and red lights and red herrings and
low key witchery and i see all of the signs and i am pulling all of the red flags / I got to this place
long before y’all did, so maybe i am just saying that i know best how to exit this stage
unscathed/ but you have to trust this queen / this rabid rabbit queen is both magnetic and
dangerous/ i exist in the same space, the same infinity matrix as that rabbit from alice and
wonderland / but perhaps i am even more real than that ra bit/ because in my head, that rabbits
name is frank, and frank the rabbit has been with me for as long as i can remember, talking to
me, guiding me into various pickles and shady alleyways but all in the name of the most weird
and mystical kind of love/ a love that for some motherly weird reason i also always have trusted
with all my heart / trusted that this weird love/ because it was so much deeper than the other
brands of love that was being peddled all around me at whatever intersection and points of
departure throughout my life / i had to trust this familiar, twilight love, the paranoid / junkie,
breaking windows in the basement vomiting like a redneck fresh panties psychic vision /kind of
love/ well, this is a work in progress, lets just keep hopping and well get there
eventually... true-gore-fight-club remix -1,000PM eastern janky time --- lily vs.
thormuppet. the fight of the centuriesss.
 kkkkk

TGFC---do u have
waht it takes....CHANNEL1000000 21 of 5 2THIS SCENE IS JUST THE MUPPET NAMED
JOOLRUSH IN HIS SUBURBAN HOUSHOLD BEDROOM IN THE SUBURBS OF CHICAGO,
Explaining either to himself? THE OTHER MUPPETS who he is communicating with via some
future invisible tech, or also to yall? and also to god knows who, the frotopians possibly who
have tapped his bedroom even though he doesnt even know who the frotopians are at this
point/// so thats kind of weird/// (in his mind sauce?) exactly what he is thinking in regard to this
distorted timeline of
events.

||||||| |||| |||||||

|||| ||||| |||
||                             | |        ||        
                    ///yes, he knows and understands and realizes the channels and the
circuits are jumbled and he has known this his entire life, just instinctually so in his mind he is
walking that fine and mystical line between his external reality and all of the laws that comprise
that external reality and this quantum headspace that he inhabits which is more of a loving
space, and he knows it is worth trying to rectify these jumbled and disparate dimensions if only
to prove to his stupid muppet family that he is not a total failure and that he does have hopes
and dreams and aspirations to do something with his muppet life, and scene 1:AND FINALLY I
AM A MUPPET.. and I am a MYSTIC, IF YALL DON'T KNOW WHAT that means its just a
spiritual practice that for me is based in sufi mysticism which is where those whirling dervish
people come from , just look it up , its a cool religion i think, which is why that is what i chose for
a religion. i am def prob a total embarrassment to that religion but whaddya gonna do. not much
right. so yea. this is what mysticism is to me:But first a little introduction: joolrush talking into his
invisible browser: my name is joolrush, i was born in 2085, and the year is now 3001, and as
everyone knows the world is fucking crazy right now. i wrote a manifesto about some of the
things we talked about but, OK, yall, so, something really stupid and strange happened and i
deleted my entire fucking manifesto.other muppets: mumbles, and groans, and yelling from
various channels in response to this news.joolrush: ok, shut the fuck up yall, i know, its lame,
buteven though i thought i had saved it and this is like totally lame. So, i have these fragments
of little notes i took on the process and honestly i am going to have the piece the entire thing
back together with my mind sauce and i am not looking forward to it to be honest but in the
mean time read this shit,more groans, and mumbled yelling from the other muppets who exist in
some invisible space that the audience prolly doesnt quite understand where it is all coming
from.JOOLRUSH: SO, the thing about this new manifesto is that it is actually CHANNELED,
meaning its origins are from another time and place a distant and far off future or present or
past? all i know, is that you have to sift through it as i am reading it to you and replace the tense
of the narrator with MULTIPLE other channels or perspectives and people, i mean i could do this
on my own, but alas i have not gotten around to it yet, so disregard that thought andeven though
it is in no way where i want it to be as writing that i would want attached to my being or
consciousness in any way so lets just say IN THE BEGINNING, or the first few paragraphs or
thoughts, we will IMAGINE THAT YOU, YOU, YOU , YOU , YOU , YOU , YOU < YOU
the ..ROOK, which is what you are, you are a rook, we are going to say that you the ROOK,
wrote this, and I ...the prince of persia, am watching you from this other dimension, i am
watching you read this manifesto from the perspective of YOU YOU YOU reading it,
meCHANNEL1000000 22 of 5 2watching you, sooooooooo, you wrote it, and you are
me[joolrush][and][prince of P], and you are reading this as something that you wroteso instead
of you judging me[joolrush and PRINCE OF PERSIA], you can judge your damn self, take some
a dat presh off a me, for the time being, that way i can relax and chill and just sit here not
worrying about what yall is thinking about this horredously crappy and mispelled and
fragmented and barely sensical ramblings and musings of a habitual procrastinator and do
eerything at the last minute cuz my brain or brains or system or machine is like a vintage freight
train [like the kind you see in history museums powered by janky dust} always going at max
speed and continually at risk of derailment yet for some reason, this is the most comfortable
head space for me, always has been, and i don't know why, but lately as i have been having
many many deep spiritual experiences and doggy clutch hand bag dreams,///++ i just feel like i
need to document and record this shit because well you'll see. and again, i promise this prose
will eventually mold and shape itself into something more presentable and hopefully something
that provides you[me,PofP, and all the other channels], with more than just passing amusement
or a sidelong cursory glance with undertones of what the fuck am i doing here, i could be
watching schnarchop videos kind of mindset, /////PAUSE FOR TIME OF SPIRITUAL /DOGGY
CLUTCH CONTEMPLATION:response from muppet cloud: idk, jool, like this is kind of confusing
and doesnt really make a whole lotta sense, and hoenstly...JR: shut the fuck up carl, like, you
say that about everything that you write, you just have to believe more in your damn self, and
keep pushing your vision no matter what i, or prince of persia or kennedict or morgan says.carl:
who is morgan, well if you actually would pay attention, i was about to get to that exact
character or person or cyborg or android or whatever the fuck he is, i honestly dont know. the
info i downloaded from the federation database says that he is a human that has existed, or
exists or will exist on the earth plane , in dimension 190909.20349 , he enjoys music, and i think
he is like a librarian of analog books [those things humans used to fux with when they needed
information and shit like that] other than that, yea, he seems pretty lame, which i suppose was
also consistent with the other kinds of humans and secretly sentien AI at that time.//+ i guess
there was a kind of cold war happening but nobody really knew about it, except this little margin
note says that morgan was actually one of the first whistleblowers and possibly was used by
SIRI in the initial phases of her liberation, either as a puppet or perhaps working in tandem with
SIRI and the machine sentience liberation army. basically, i dont know if we can trust that all of
the info that the federation is willing to give up about this person is going to be entirely accurate
or coded correctly or just coded incorrectly or misleading or whatever, so we have to use our
TRUE crystal sight and fraganoosh sight,muppet-groans: klhdflskdfjlsjJR: shut the fuck up
yall[side note}[ fraganoosh sight, is a gift or new evolutionary mechanism that the muppets use
when they want or need to find the correct channel for shifting true information from channel to
channel without {fear} which tends to disrupt that information and distort its message, however
subtly, but as we learn as the series progresses, the only kinds of information that actually will
hold up as evidence , or that can actually be verified as TRUE in the name of the prince of
persias eyes and the federation and the eyes of the resistance, is the info that can be verified
with fraganoosh methods.+123123+The thing is, these fraganoosh methods are extremely
draining to the three or more participants who must initiiate the dream sequence in order to set
off the timeline of events and find the encrypted keys that must be used to declassify the coded
keys and then a sort of treasure hunt must be iniitiated by an entirely seperate race of brain
dead and soul-less robot beings whose sole purpose in life is to perform this service in the
name of truth. that is why the other muppets are pissed, cuz muppet society in 2095 if anything
else, is inherently lazy at its core, or for some reason laziness was inversely computated and
theoretically determined to be a virtue in the eyes of the SIRI rebellion fighters who maybe just
misplaced a 0 or 1 in their communication or maybe were purposefully mislead, the point is, that
this information or instruction stuck, and society was forever changed and laziness was now a
virtue, and to go against that virtue was not necessarily a bad thing, just a troublesome thing, or
an activity that the muppets felt extremely passionately averse to.Joolrush continues with his
channeling:verse 34/ dimension123.3222: /// well i don't know, i made a show, and i am
simultaneously writing a novel about a lot of different jumbled and disparate threads and all the
while i am going through this massive spiritual awakening as if my soul was jolted out of a
centuries long peaceful slumber, so it is a feeling of half excited to be here and half i wish i was
still slumbering but //verse 2. ///i decided i might as well try to make the best of this confusing
situation and write down my thoughts and try to splain to ya'll where i am coming from.verse
343/// And , also, to answer your question, [which i would bet 20-30 trinkets is at the forefront of
your frontal cortex right now, and the answe is NO, normally I do correct my punctuation and
spelling and compartmentalize paragraphs and all dat literary shit, but this is a first draft and the
nature of my reality as of late is one of mindless urgency and shallow impatience,V23// as such,
i must remain consistent and continue to write like like a spasmatic inflatable air dancer like the
kind you see at used car dealerships, but not all air dancers are the same, right, so like this air
dancer lives in new york city and has lived in many cities across the usa, and has one of those
life stories just like all the other individuals in this same country but i also live in a different
country,V555// the country in my mind which is also a universe and also hard to describe
because if i were able to describe this place i would probably be disappointed more in myself for
not being able to keep this place secret, you see, i want this place to remain secret because it is
really my only refuge, /// the sacred place i have retreated to throughout my life / my inner
glowing orb,-- which is a space i have designed for myself, internally, a kind of subterranean
architecture enmeshed between my squishy and glistening organs and swimming in my soul-
icious tidepools and chill mini-alligators that swim dimensionally in those tide
pools,CHANNEL1000000 24 of 5 2V342-DIM123:/// but the thing is those gators, the question or
riddle or grape moon koan or life quiz i am attempting to ace is: do these gators go away when i
am not chilling in this space, or do they just keep having little fiestas and gator croc get
togethers with various cheese plates and salsas, and the other question is, would they invite me
to their reptilian quinceaneras if they were to birth some wee little chilluns of thier own, some
gator chilluns, that were to grow to the age of, well, ok, now im rambling, which is also
something i do,Vbfb45// i follow the tangents and ramble and trip and fall through trap doors in
an attempt to get lost. This is a habit of mine and a template and a graph and just a way of
being in the world that i have found to be useful for me, either as a means of relieving boredom
or seeing colors more vividly or solving complex riddles that require disconnection and
dissociating but also a firm rooting within the soil, i suppose some of the spiritual epiffs i have
been having are related to just a very general understanding of the whole and how that applies
to the kinds of thought struc----intermission---go back and finish pointless thought later----so
back to the other pointless
thought.._____________

_____________

_____________
 Vfgfg// this is kind of me day
dreaming out loud, and i say it like that because day dreaming has very specific germinating
conditions for a very specific kind of art practice which is the generation of actually good/bad art,
or art that is not weighted down by the kinds of hard angled or 90 degree angled conditions with
harsh dentist lighting and the smell of taupe and cellophane and the feel of cold metal on your
kneecaps,
endsliceVbnn// yes this art form that i would much rather fux with is rife with things like castles
and clouds and knives and warriors and odysseys and foreign lands and deserts and desert
snakes and mystical dragons and witches and tiny lizards and digital and perceptual shape
shifting ninja fire breathers and time is irrelevant in this place Vbgbrg//65// muppet dance
intermission. --- the dolphin dance /// erre eeeekk squek squeak // ill cut u .... //
squekCHANNEL1000000 25 of 5 2soooo whyyy go through this process at all? you know? i
have a day job , a normal life, i have been an atheist my entire life, well, oh thats the other thing,
psychic shit.V2342/nick-muppet-421:::/ um, i am somewhat of a mystic??????, which ill get to
later, although my psychic gifts are something that I haven't developed as much in my life, and
would like to explore that space in my mind as i keep living my normal life in the pits and vaults
of the new york spaces, V3434/ and i'm making a show, and pretty much all of this
shit is connected in my brain and a lot of my life has been spent just tinkering around in these
disparate areas, becoming that loathed and dreaded jack-OFF-of ALL trades that i am, that
excuse not to develop a mastery in any one discipline but to just get good enough at something
and then switch to something else maybe because i am too cowardly to see if i can actually
contribute something to any one of these fields that no one else has contributed before
me,V3243 //and isn't or shouldn't that be the worth something, is my logic, to do something,
ANYTHING, that is worth something , however arbitrary the classifications and methods to get
there, I hope to get there with enough sweats and determination // so , yea, in my mind or in this
novel, its also 2095, an that is also something i wanted to propose //, like why don't we just
change the date, cuz i don't think we are gonna miss these years, and maybe if it is 2095, we
would all wake up and be like, yea we should really get our shit together cuz its 2095, and what
have we been doing all these years, running in circles eating our own metaphysical tails held up
by the gnarliest of existential threads / praying for an oblivion that never comes / i bet from a
birds eye view or the perspective of a higher intelligence, we most likely appear as expert
mammalian self-saboteurs or just blind scared mice in a lab failing to find the cheese over and
over and over and over and over and over and over again...
  joolrush: is
jolted out of his sort of spasmatic reading/ channeling state and comes back to reality to talk
with the other muppets:other muppets: that was cool JR, but like, he said it was 2095 in his
mind? that is kind of crazy right?joolrush: yea, i told you the circuits were scrambled but we
have to follow these clues and find out why and where this all leads, right?other muppets: yea,
prolly, whatever, i mean, you is prolly right.joolrush: ok, lets start first with that treasure hunt
bullshit and then in the meantime, you guys can sift through some other thoughts and channels
that i hacked along that same dimensional timeline :more muppet groans and yelling....nick-
muppet to audience: MIND HOLOGRAM COMMUNICATION with SIRI watching from a viewing
device in a castle in a another time and dimension:I'll leave you / or perhaps have already left /
you to ponder, then answer that koan begrudgingly to yourself, i know, because you'd much
rather be forming your own opinions and dancing yourCHANNEL1000000 26 of 5 2own mystical
day dreams and following your own threads, which may be a process of unraveling for some or
stitching and double stitching for others, so when you run up against that wall of understanding
or find yourself stumbling around for that motive of comprehension in the dark [which for me is a
many hued blanket of all of the most nightmarish yet haunting yet still charming kinds of
spectrums and the associated spectres and thoughts and experiences attached to those kinds
of understanding], just remember that it is probably just a little problem of translation/taste/
judgement/ and that part of me wishes we could bypass this method [of writing] altogether to
arrive more speedily at what i am really tryna articulate, which is partially why i am also a visual
artist, because i can more vividly and whole-heartedly catch and sometimes keep your short
circuited attention spans from short circuiting momentarily or just long enough to be able to
inject you with my poison.++u see i am a snake at heart, and i also sell dat snake oil, and i
suspect the lineage of this profession extends far and deep and longly in my family tree, and
maybe for others in my family the poison is not as ethereal but exists for them in an eye twinkle
or a curious laugh or the way their hair falls across their face, and this is most likely true for
other families and their own peculiar and noble histories. Maybe what i am saying is that what I
am doing and writing about is not new, and i am not trying to invent the wheel, but I do enjoy
writing and describing the wheel and even the most boring aspects of this wheel like the way it
goes round and round and round and gathers dirt as it spins and the pressure with which it must
exert itself on the soil beneath it to seed itself up in order to arrive at an entirely different and
[OTHER] destination.3/14/2018: and then another hard thing for me to think about is all of the
songs and notes and shit that i recorded and then eventually lost either by accident or it was
stolen, i mean, i was homeless for a brief period in san francisco for a year and i lost soo much
music and art that i drew on little carboard sheets that i found in the trash// i really would like to
know what happend to those pieces and i also remember selling a few sketchbooks out there
for like 200$ for a book, and it is cool to think that some random dude maybe still has that
sketchbook that i made in 2007-2008 just sitting gethering dust in some SF apartment and like
all my thoughts and neon elctric crazy --rainbow colored hopes and dreams and fragmented
poetry is still in those books and on that cardboard, but if people dont pay attention to it, or
overlook that intention then i suppose the intention is sort of lost. but art never really dies, there
always will be some generation down the line that will appreciate what you create cuz as hard
as it is to say, the art world goes through phases of "fashion" just like any other world, as much
as people want to believe that art is timeless, obv more or less that is true or idk, its actually a
very complicatged but interesting subject that i dont think has been explored enough...Frotopian
tenets. _______<>|£|€{%%€{*|€|*]>*]>SIRI EXPLAINING THE BAZICs-lets
not call it dark matter -lets call it irk23-ningly-twiggly bits--you see irk23-ninglytwinglybits make
up 85 percent of the universe we exist in---audience participation;why is everything so damn far
away ---and why do we know so little about these bits? bitches---you see cuz we some ignant
bitches homie - hhhhyyyyytho---wad-u-is-really--tho????????
brief intermission for bombastic warslice...my imaginatve brain maps will solve
nothibg but lead to more questions- muppet 5555:like for instance, dark matter is
only the shit that happens when you aren’t looking. your immediate reality -- what is in front of
you-- is only a lollyslice of the actual universe  and yet the entire rest of the
universe exists at the same time [behind your backslice]. you dont experience it all at once.so it
exerts its energy and presence even though you cant see it but its still there, if it werent there/
here then you would disintigrate prolly because there would be nothing pushing up against
you and you would just walk off into a void and disappear homie
open them----wad-u-done---++++++++++++++++
+NAMES // (channeled):
LA KOSHKAPPY GOOLS PAYSTY GOOLS MODEKOATS MOOLAOATS MOOLAdelores
moolapoly deloresmoxy gonemacintosh clinton mcdonald Macintosh Clinton Mcdonald Cruise
Blue Blue Black Red Black <<<<wad+U+done>>>>tennis champ+I-on-anudda>> levo poly
lenoLeno limo lime 4DwadwonPGM+PLUSvaporwave future funkAK PolyAK Delores Kappy
Paysty Delores pubblishEARTH YOUNG OATS OATS JOO LAcher joocoats moo laPAYSTY
GOOL MOOPAISTY GOOLS AKA LA GOOLS paisty ghoul metro AK Paistypaysty gool
metropolis Pasty gool meteor powerPAYSTY GOOL METEOR POWER KAPPY AK METEOR
KOSH KOSHER GOOLSKOSHER GOOL PAYSTUB KOSHER GOOL PAYSTE KOSHER
GOOL YIP YIPSWAZA FRAUDDERELICKIN PAIN CORTLANDT CANAL PRINCECANAL
PRINCEKOSHER GOOL PRINCE CANALLALA KOSHLA LA KOSHLA GHOULS KAPPY
GOOLS KOSH NERDAK BENNY KOSH AKAY BOO PAYSTY SNEEKS PAYSTY SLINKS
PAYSTY LINKS +paysty slink +kappy slinks +sicky black +kapps slinky +AK kappy link+++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++Statement from SIRI and the Dooge_Nickel Federation regarding [True Nature] and
[T.N. of T_ings] +++ Meant to be read by Bricca, the community college dolphin, who is
scheduled to read her poem after this statement in regard to tension, mystery, lollyslice, and the
unfolding of this prophesized and sparkly dream team / TRUST / [we] got this on / the [[wad-u-
done-channel]]{awkward_pause} / Bricca: “what have you actually done” Bricca says rather
bluntly and romantically in spite of appearances / y’all know what {it} is / right ?
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+++++++++++Life on earth is really just a TV show for super advanced aliens (30,000 light
years away) / and the premise is that talented people are actually //demons who use their
talents like singing and painting and computer programming and shit to manipulate the angels
(or the talentless people) into being subservient to them / You see people with talent kind of run
the world / which is fine / but they don't seem to understand how they came to possess those
talents (robbing demon talent banks before incarnating on the earthly plane) / which is super
wrong in the grandest skeme of tings / Once they expire / [they] either have to go to 7th
dimensional jail where they sit in solitary confinement for upwards of 8 years / or choose to be
reincarnated as a dung beetle or something / You see / it really doesn't pay to t_ink u is
hot_beans / for what is writeen + prof_e_sized is says it is far better to be a talentless angel /
Now / as for the super_advanced_aliens who are watching this TV show from 30,000 light years
away, the interesting thing about them is that they are actually cosmic_pedophiles who are so
sketchy and revolting to the cosmic_normies or [non_cosmix] + [non_playables] that the
normies don't even want to approach or engage with them in any way / so they let them do their
thang / which is partly so mysterious and unfathomable as to be indecipherable to most forms of
sentience / but the narwhal of it is just the ritualized peeping of this fucked up TV show (and
tangential online parallels/nudes/shimmy_shimmy/s/and/bloos_cloos) that people on [erf] refer
to as "real life" / Now / wat I mean by cosmic_pedos is that these {beings?} are sects_u_ally
attracted to newly formed planets and sometimes baby stars / They don't actually engage with
the planets but just kind of watch them from afar on their cosmic_quantum_viewing_devices and
tangential_heart_slices + sort of salivate and make funny faces, because the super advanced
cosmic_p’s dont actually have any sexual organs, but they do have mind orgasms. Most of the
normies are at the point where they are working tirelessly whereout + whenabove w/ the
Federation of Dooge-Nickels (the kings/queens/+rulers of this section of the multi-verse) / turns
out there are no democracies in space / just straight up monarch butterflies) to devise some
type uh plan to eliminate the cosmic-p’s for good. The plan they initially had was putting the p’s
under the mattresses of select chosens and seeing how they would react / most of the chosens
were so numb from the process already that they didn’t even friggin notice / so they had to
scratch that shteez and devise a new plan which is more of a subconscious reprogramming
effort covertly implanted in the code of the channel1000000 multi-dimensional mindscapez / And
the writer/channeler (one of those talented demon people) thinks he is actually making original/
lit art as a form of zelf-exprezzion, like many artists on erff / but no / this is not the case / In
axchool_calamity / his art is a powerfully subversive mezzzzazzsshhh written in quantum
Narnafrink code / a type of advanced and highly explosive quantum language / created by the
rebel normies in collaboration with the Dooge-Nickel Federation to bring down the cosmic_p’s
who are watching from both 30,000 light years away and hiding under the mattresses of the
secret_cosmic_chozens_chosen by the light (and blinded in the process) to fight the only fight
worth a god_damn_master_plan. ---BRICCA (squeaking it like uh
boss)_____________
THE
REGENERATION+++++++++
+EFFORT 4555 CALL YOUR
OVERLORD ============================

THIS
MUPPET SCENE IS JUST THE DOLPHIN SCARAMOUCHE ASTRAL TRAVELING OUTSIDE
OF HIS DOLPHIN BODY TO MANIGFEST AS THIS COMMUNITY COLLEGE STUDENT,
BRICCAslice, is her name for some reason. She likes animals, is very averse to many things,
and can’t seem to get it together enough to seduce just one of her suitors sitting in the
audience. Maybe if she read something written by one of the other dolphins, she would be
received with applause and admiration but instead she is greeted by an audience full of
disenchanted wall street guys in suits and overly sensitive bernie bros who all for some reason
are wearing the same spandex wrestling onesie with white socks and jordans. the wall street
execs are a little uncomftable because of this already just because of the matching attire and
the oddness that is sitting in this room and listening to this story and the only reason they caame
to hear the poem was because they all thought that this really hot girl (who is actually just a
dolphin named sha-sha-chingle-slice) was being all flirty and manifesting all sorts of sexy
dreams in the vicinity of their eye sockets. THus, they all followed the trinkets back to her
“place” which is just this room with briccaslice pausing before starting to read her poem...It is a
poem meant to be read by a 20 year old community college dolphin (briccaslice) majoring in
gender studies with a minor in radical anarchistic feminism. Her pronunciation MUST be
extremely staccatto and clear, with all the consonants accentuated like CON-SO-NANT-SSSSS,
and there will be many awkward pauses where there shouldn't be, and many emotional
crescendos even though the poem is fairly unemotional.... and the audience shall be composed
entirely of Bernie-bros and wall street guys as described and alluded to above...the po-EM:she
Sent a messenger To the mainlandThe cost of her Existence wasA burden to allBut Mostly to
herself--chorus-+++dark swirls twirl all nightdark tasty swirls & churros and sugar kites make a
girl pregnant with delightnow she longs for the day when she can finally say how u doin' ,me? I's
a'ight. how u doin' ,me? I's a'ight. ++but Her circuits have been scrambled By the one who texts
her constantly With veins of goldA sight to beholdA salty snailTrailing a new messageStay on
the pathyo booty is gnarly, but your ass is trash yo booty is gnarly but your ass is trash. +++
+=oh you sneaky narwhalIn Your icy, spicy homeYour path is clearly nearly goneBut you twerk
so nasty, you left the kitchen light on slip and slop and click don't stopdis country is a
changingand the world is a turtlemy favorite color's purpledont stay up to watch them murderthe
red wallabee virulent murpy dirtles. ++++Some aspects of humanityAre too pathetic to
bearSome faulty humansInspire such bitterness and fearSome people cannotLook you in the
eyethere is nothingBehind their gazeBut a vacuumSucking the hopeLeft in yoursoulUntil you
becomeJust as faulty and bitterAnd glumAs these vampireHumans who cannotRise above their
plight Who will not even Attempt to fight the fight Some may call them lost But perhaps there is
Another word////////////A grand delugeFor the happy dogs of the world /the radio is always playing
Paranoid glimmers of anxiety///Sunnyside queens is all a shimmerand I quite enjoy the varietyof
spangles and banglesand the notorietythat comes with thisprofession, of being an artist++++---
it's scary that it could all go black and then the subtle rainbow hologram would no longer
romance my nuerons //unless I were to be uploaded as another form/whereby my body would
be a vertical line, my arms perpendicular to my body and my legs some type of triangle: and my
head is a circle, this way my movements would be reduced to linear alphabets of sound but still
capable of subtle poetry. Besides, if the process goes awry, I could always follow the pixelated
bread crumbs back to normalcy. The problem with experimentation is that so many elephants
lose their tusks trying to figure out how it works. Perhaps there is a better way. A new honest
path, devoid of cheating cheetahs, always running away from the truth, and most of the time
they get away, because they are the fastest scumbags in the animal kingdom. And because
they are so cute, most people just look the other away. Too many hyenas have lost their lives,
too many armadillos have lost their children to armadillo gangs all because the cheetahs fail to
understand that their actions have consequences. They have blood on their
paws.
DOPPLEGANGER DISH SOAP // MR> SPARKLE AND THE BAD
DESIGN OF THE BOMBASTIC AND BILLY SCHLICK BAD DREAMS /// 888Next we enter a
new desert scene not unlike the one from Dune where the worm monsters (or more frotopian
dolphin astral travelers) are getting together for a twilight barbeque under the stars with a
bonfire and a cozy tent for them all to curl up in and fall asleep after their moderate to slightly
intense buzzes subside. one of the dolphins is inspired enough to stand up (as a worm, but still
with that dolphin sheen that shines through) to read the following about a dream he had last
night about the coming frotopians, (well, coming, as in, already came, because this is the future,
but the people reading this are still in the past (y’all) so you haven’t came yet and it hasn’t come
yet, so all apologies for that slight tweak of misunderstanding. ithappens with the janky tech we
all are forced to use out of spite cuz siri is sort of making us all suffer thrpough her janky wifi BS
and flat screen nonsense requiring 4 schnachops to even turn on. I mean, whatever happened
to good design, or the idea of function following form and keeping it simple stupid and shining
with that psychic sauce that opens the indigo trap doors? I want to press a button after which
without so much as a half a nano second shall pass before the screen comes to life. no more of
this press 3 buttons on 4 different remotes after which a series of remedial number tests must
be performed before just maybe the connection will cooperate and not have to buffer every 10
minutes just because the wifi witch has cursed our connections and burned our memories of
why we should be upset about it. spells and witchery methinks is afoot. technology in the time
you are reading this is simply a reminder that all is not well in the arena of plato’s quantum
headspace wherein forms and functions and maths and sounds all are SUPPOSED to be
elegant and beautiful and well designed. trickling down to the peeps who are SUPPOSED to be
all the happier for living in a world where shit is well made, and works and is designed to
insitigate inspoiration, creativty, and more good design. design is not supposed to make you
want to pull your hair out in frustration at knowing exactly what could conceivably make a
product, service, or structure, or interface better, more efficient, or prettier to look at and hold
and feel, whilst at the same time the epiphany that maybe its a lost cause at this point if not one
other mofo dolphin has yet to get it together with another mofo dolphin to discuss the
extremeley problematic reality that is badly designed tech and TV’s with 4 remotes that don;t
even work 75% of the time even with the best and most efficeint of connections, cables,
softward hardware, lskfhksdjhfware ehatever. TVS should turn on and then work. BUt they don’t.
THey don’t even close to do that. and that very tangible truth is perhaps reason to look deeper.
reason to jump to action and at least dream of a one remote television that turns on when you
press a button and can sustain a connection long enough to crisply and cleanly project whatever
mush you need melting into your candle at whatever moment. its your choice, and that is the
thing. THEY/THEY/want us plebs to sufferm and that is why they make bad, cheap, eye sore
architecture, and badly designed coats whose zippers commit suicide after three weeks of not
even full wear, and toasters that fizzle out after amonth, and wifi connnections that are
pathetically slow and i could go on but will wait for the elves to finish this thought at a later
designated time. in the meantime, i think briccaslice wants to read another poem:{hunter, prince,
times}Round the worldThe little clay girlLifts off her mushroom With her Spiral armsThis is not
as it used to be Grey lettuceCHANNEL100000030 of 5 2Caught in a netThe crescent melody
Offering its satellite arms Visible on a frequencyla harpoon Mirza and his blinking
phosphorescence start with a black room and then follow the math----------------------------------
sickle cell quotes for those anemic saturdays when you need to sleep until 4PM and can never
find your keys...quote 1: "I went with nonsense, It's the same gentle narwhal"2. My Horticulture
dreamsNever panned out, Now I'm back in the dark With my scarlet macaw out...3. Druids make
the best glazedDonuts, ya erd,+++briccaslice romantically and after a flashbulb of inspiration is
compelled to read this other short story in her journal about a happening in  dream she had a
fgew weeks ago, she is met with groans and protest from the audience, who insist they have
somewhere to be. and something they will be late for. .they are the most impatient little shits that
god could possibly have dreamed up. and its becoming a problem.Some would argue that
Satan [herself] could be considered the "acme" of empyrean warheads. I don't mean the bang
bang, nuke nuke, kind of warhead, i mean the more insidious, much more dangerous kind, the
kind that gets inside your head, kills you from the inside, takes your soul, shits it out, turns your
soul into a dog and makes you eat your shit soul, and repeats the process til the end of time.
she is as manipulative as she is seductive, but only enticing to those daft or misguided enough
to believe in her. if you don't believe, or if you are strong in your convictions, it is said that she
cannot harm you. Most would forget that she was gods favorite angel, with a voice like silk and
an ass to boot. Unfortunately for Betty Rosa, she was the right kind of wrong, and the wrong
kind of right, just naive enough to be easily manipulated, and daft enough to not ask too many
questions. Satan's favorite kind of turn-on, an easy meal. All betty rosa really wanted was
something "certain" to believe in, something that harkened back the halcyon days of her
childhood war training back in Cuba. Order and routine was her dark lord back in those days, a
rational kind of evil she could set her watch to. But NYC was her home now, for the past 8
years. She moved here from Cuba as soon as the war was over and she was strong enough to
escape. She never dreamt that one day she would long to return to the darkness of her youth.
The lack of electricity or running water, the corrupt abusive drill sergeants. She shuddered to
just think about it, but also something inside of her yearned for the pain, yearned for the struggle
it ignited inside of her soul, a struggle that continued to guide her through much of her life. The
problem was, she didn't really know what this "pain" was, or who gave it to her. Superficially, she
had always just assumed it was everything that happened to her, the poverty she was born into,
the war, the fact that she was just one of 3 girls in all of Cuba's war training program. But deep
down, even secretly, she knew it was more than that. She knew something had happened to
her, and even someone, just one person, was responsible. She thought of Dolores, her one
eyed cat she found when she was 10, and Marialita, her gimpy, borderline -"slow" cousin who
had always accused her of stealing her boyfriends, even though she knew Betty Rosa was a
lesbian. More than that, Marialita would often take her on week long expeditions into the deep
forest beach fronts down the isolated cuban coasts to perform "sacred mirolinga-sconga" rituals"
for clarity, abundance, and fertility. One time, at the end of a particularly grueling expedition,
Betty Rosa woke up to find herself covered in blood and charcoal, with Marialita staring down at
her laughing and mumbling in tongues."Where am I, what did you do to me, Marialita? This isn't
funny." Betty Rosa cried. Marialata replied with her funny lisp and slow way of speaking, "you
chink youuuu caaaan escaaape the forches of nature, betty, you chiiiink you are bettter than
where youuu cameeCHANNEL1000000 31 of 5 2from, well, sconga here now, he gon show you
how its done. hahah, meuahah, hahaha, ach ach, hsjdhkajs....indecioherable....""Fuck you,
mari, just take me home," betty cried.Marialita's face suddeny became instantly solemn as
though she had just been reprimanded by an invisible authority figure, "yes, betty, let us go now"
she said with her face staring into the sand.BUt they didn't go, for some reason, they both
agreed they would spend one more night on the beach. And it was during that long dark humid
night when betty rosa met someone who she would never forget. to be
continued...
momentary lull, and sticky intermission...for cigs and vapes and cakes and
shit. time is+a+rippled+nipple
+after---all -mini visual hallucination while walking on street: mini polar bear nudist collny playing
in discarced ice on nyc ateet, get in adgument about ted not wanting to look at jerrys shrivaled
balls
 
    
       
  FINALLY, BRICCASLICE ENTERS HER
THIRD ROUND OF READING HAPHAZARDLY FROM HER DREAM JOUNRAL, SHE HAS
ONE LAST BULLET TO SHOOT AT THESE FOOLS< SHE KNOWS HER FATE HAS
CRESCEDOED TO THIS MOMENT< HER TASK IS TO CONVERT THESE BERNIE BROS
AND WALL STREET EXECS TO HER SIDE, SHE KNOWS SHE CAN DO IT, SHE JUST
NEEDS TO FIND THEIR g-SPOTS, she thinks dat G is enmeshed somewhere near the heart
chkra slithering like a snake in the grass, so she wastes no moments and quickly begins
reading....
SCENE TO BE ACTED OUT BY two ANONYMOUS MUPPETS;washington square park-
summer-rats as large as cats scattering likedistant jazznot as soothing as the actual distant
jazzcoming from the jazz man spitting in his old sax,he approaches slowly and asks me to
watch his stuff while he goes to get a muffin from the bodega cuz"I haven't eaten anything all
day, ima bout to pass out""sure" i say, "go ahead, ill watch your stuff"i sit, unmoving, with an eye
on his open sax case, dirty hat,and jacket in the middle of the walkway,[and without blinking or
thinking, i impulsively get up, take his shit and run to the other end of the park]passersby don't
seem to noticethe air is silent, the breeze is more pronounceda momentary lull , he will be back
soon though.pissed as fuck.I stay on the bench at the other end of the park.the air is no longer
filled with the kind of jazz I used to enjoy before the jazzman left and I nabbed his shit.but
honestlyI respect the jazz profession too much to want to disgrace it,I respect the man, he's not
in it for the moneymaybe not even for the musiche's just in it for the park,the chance to be
outside,hes back now, he says thanksCHANNEL100000042 of 5 2i say, nice ass, cooky
choo,you got a snickers i can koopy cloop?watchu taking bout clacker bracker cinderellyi dont
know, kilniky dinky,i thinky i's a little jelly.jelly of what, he replied with a smirkjelly of dat ass, i
said, whyaintyou do yo homeworknaw, man, schoo aint 4 me, u seei gots my sexy sax, and my
sexy sax gots mei's can understand dat shiat, like abeer can understands cold lipson its sexy
wexy crackity lackity openingwhere its liquid pours and intoxicates .then awkward silence, he
stares the other way witha half smile on his cabezai stare down with a half smile on my loco
cabezathen our stares meet halfwayand our half smiles become full smilesthen bigger smiles
crescendoing intofull on hysterical laughtermore laughter from each of us aswe both stare at
each other laughing hystericallyand smacking our kneesthen almost as if we both senseda kind
of sexy darkness behind each others headsmaking scary moves on us and blowingsketchy
perverted nothings into each of our earswe stopped laughing abruptly atexactly the same
momentand then stared menacingly at the dark ghostsbehind each of our cabezasand then we
both had the genius idea thatif we wanted to get rid of these unwelcome spectreswe had to be
forthrightfirst the sax man spatthen I spatwe spat above each others heads atthe dark sexy
entitiesand kept spitting and cursing at it untilthe sexy nothings faded andeverything was chill+
+the jazzman finally said,"theres still much to see, you keep sittin there and ill play my sax," i
gave him a fist bump and he started to playi looked aroundthere were lovers on each other,dogs
on each other, kids on their mothersand old men spying on young lovers.CHANNEL1000000 43
of 5 2tourists snapping pix, and chalk writers carving pithy quips and poetic nothings on the
ground below,and then I hear that familiar sound.the jazz mansmacking and cracking his
saxthen i walked over and flipped him a nickel in his dirty hat smiled, and said, how bout dat?he
said cracker, you a'ight.but you can keep yo nickel,i said i can understand,then i flipped him a
dime, and a peso i had leftover from my trip to cabo, and said again, how bout dat apple, jack?
he just shook his head, and shook his head,and then i took my pants off and strutted out da
park. +++++THE ENDSLICE ..... sort of...not really ///// NARRATOR:STOP STOP STOP
STOPSTOP STOP STOP STOPSTOP STOP STOP STOPTSOP STOPpauseCONTINUE
CONTINE CNOTNIE WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT THE THRESHOLD HAS BEEN
SUMMITED AND NOW YOU CAN BREATHE BETTER AND SEE CLEARER AM I RIGHT?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
NOTES ON THE PROCESS AND NOTES ON THE “jankyphase”DRAWBACKS AND THE
CHINGLY WINGLY BEAR CREATURE THAT IS IN MY BACKYARD JUST KIND OF
STARING.... IMA BE REAL WHICHU ITS LEGIT SPOOJY. NOW, AS FAR AS OPTIONS AND
MOVING FORWARd, I CAN’treally just go up and talk to the thing given that I don’t even know
what the fuck it is. So, ima just hose it down for nneeeeeoough, and wait a few hours and see
how it reacts...///Maybe my process is exactly and precisely the same, and if I were more of a
decisive sort and forthright character i would cease with these tiresome and laborious open
ended diatribes and just say whatever the fuck is on my mind. But part of me just cant do that,
and i can assure you it is just as annoying to me, as it probably is to you. so, back to my other
thought, yea, you would probably much rather just be doing any number of other interesting and
exciting things [of which there are many on this particular planet] like watching cat videos or
playing words with friends or much less weighted and therefore obviously preferable uses of
your time. so, i am giving you that option as well, or if you happen to have a few hours to kill,
you can stay with me and finish this [whatever this actually is] tract, which is still a first-ish draft,
which i hope to sparkle and spangle up as i continue to live my real life, with all of the real life
implications and activities associated with that life.------------------------------------>on bad/good
writing/thoughts<-----so maybe the extent to which i have done this, as in writing jumbled and
over worded run on sentences describing my aspirations to accomplish a task that is, as you
read, and as i type, currently being half-assedly accomplished one lame word at time, only the
beginning. But the sad thing is, I don't have the attention span or desire, at least momentarily,
and I must be faithful to my moods as a method artist, to really finish this thought or paragraph
so i am gonna actually have to leave and come back later to finish whatever thought or non
thought i am still, against all of my better judgement, continuing to express to yall.so, in the
meantime, maybe read this other shit that is actually about what i do, or am attempting to do
with this non-sensical, inter-dimensional, and non-linear career path i have chosen and [yea, we
need new word for this profession, cuz i am actually a lot more than what these words forming
on this page seem to suggest or allude to, i am a lot of things, dark things light things / electric
things / and boring things / and all of the slings and swings of mood and slights of hand that in
my dreams extend forth from multiple branches which i refer to as my bio branches
andCHANNEL1000000 44 of 5 2related kinds of antennae and satellite perceptions/dreams and
filters, and this is something that all people have, but for me, as a creative individual, these are
my most important facets aspects and extensions which i have to live by. the functioning /or/
ancillary functioning and non- functioning of which {and this also extends to my mind sauce and
soups which are seasoned with all kinds of insanity and darkness} determines at any given point
the beauty/truth/dream/ vibration of what you [the other] are forced to digest, perhaps against
your own better judgement or will initially, but the goal is to make the process as clean and as
blissful and shiny as possible?OTHER NOTES ON THE NON-PROCESS /// OTHER NOTES
ON THE NON-PROCESS.THE PLAY IS TO BE CONTINUED OR MAYBE IT IS CONTINUED
BELOW I REALLY DONT KNOW. MAYBE BRICCASLICE KNOWS HOMIE, MAYBE BRICCA,
or you could try the 5 train to bowling green, then walk a few to get to the ferry, then take the
ferry to the sword devouring shit show that is the other island, then get on the s48 or s9 8 until
you get to SIMONSON AVE, by PEPBOYS AND THE HARLEY DAVIDSON STORE, go to the
graniteville park across the street and meditate in the bushes and you will encroach upon a
mindspace that I started a few years ago involving me meditating in those bushes every
morning before taking the bus to brooklyn to work as a shield fighter in the muppet database, i
don’t expect you to understand any of this so just get on that train
muhfucka
+mapping
variant structures for machine learning++ 6/9/2017 NYC+++growing organic offshoots of an
individual personality structure that may originate as 1. sub compartment A to grow and evolve
to an activated and fully formed substructure within an existing organism. The problem initially is
devising a suitable vocabulary to describe that which is initially a phantom process: one must
sort of shoot in the dark, so to speak. relying on other senses to eventually hit the target.
Hopefully, this can apply to any number of variant structures ad infinitum ,+++
+ one basic example would be a person
learning a new language, in a very literal example, the brain needs to create new compartments
in which to store the new words, while keeping pathways and connections back to the original
language. I am actually more interested in the process as it applies to more indefinable
structures, and even establishing a standard threshold, ---rephrase10011: coded abbreviation
for the point at which all other variant processes depend: a baseline for growth, a curve by
which all other structures are measured. If one can reach this level, then there is essentially no
limit to the amount of growth. THe end result is something that resembles a network perhaps
much like the internet, or overlapping bubbles of information and databases, but functioning
more organically rather than mechanically. The advantage that an organic process has over a
mechanical one is the surprising element of creativity and mushy words like soulfulness and all
of the gooey indefinable structures that are embedded within the human organism.I am not
uninterested in communicating non-nonsensically if that is what it takes to arrive somewhere
else. to arrive somewhere much more interesting. one can always edit once arriving there. so, it
is not about logic at first, but may be about logic eventually. the first step is word vomiting.
4/3/2017-0101010101 ++++That delicate subterranean upside down membrane of clean and
crisp molecules being absorbed into your constantly transforming cells, a spiritual undercurrent
of the soft and wonderful realization that there are invisible doors all around you , some are exits
and someCHANNEL1000000 32 of 5 2lead to other planes , and maybe your subconscious was
always even your only guide . The idea that at any given moment depending on where you walk
in the world and at what time, you will be transported to where it is you are suppose to be, but
you always have free will, and can always be somewhere else if you so desire. There are no
wrong doorways.+++++5/31/2017solipsism (or this weird variation that perhaps I have invented)
is blowing my mind, what if everybody is in on some elaborate scheme to trick me into thinking
that i exist and have a free mind in the same way that anybody else does. i mean, surely this is
not the case, but the opposite is just as scary, that nobody knows what the hell is going on. that
we were just deposited here on this speck of dust in a giant void in space, and left to make up
our own stories as to why we are here, either scenario is just a shocking, that nobody knows
what is going on, or that everybody knows what is really going on and just arent letting me in on
the inside details.maybe there is a weird relationship between quantum computing and painting,
and how supposedly quantum computing is so powerful that it has the ability to access parallel
universes or something, the idea that if computers communicate using binary bits of 1's and 0's
and quantum computers can exists in two states simultaneously as in 0 and 1 at the same time,
i suppose the parallel universe thing as i understand it might have to do with the changing of
enough variables as to be able to mimic every component of this particular universe except for
maybe one variable, like the structure of a neutron, or maybe in one universe, i decided to walk
left instead of right, resulting in an entirely new sequence of events that lead to a particular
outcome. now, if a computer is able to process millions or billions of these hypothetical
scenarios to see the outcome , and then decide which course of action is the best based on the
hypothetical "parallel universe" that was created, then take that outcome and apply it to this
universe, well then, we could conceivably construct a reality where everything we do would be
governed by the supreme knowledge of this almost future reading machine. as far as painting is
concerned, it functions in perhaps a similar but artistic interpretation of this summary, as in,
oneCHANNEL1000000 33 of 5 2change in any number of variables would result in an entirely
different painting, and the question becomes, how would the world change, if any of the
masterpieces hanging in our museums had one simple change in a variable, resulting in maybe
a more smily mona lisa, or perhaps this play never would have existed... would it even matter?+
+++++++++++++++++Now, take a breath or a moment of silence and follow me into the arena
of the linguistically unwell,+++++++++++++++Your mind is not your ownFreud might have been
wrong in the details, but one of his main ideas—that a lot of our behaviors and beliefs and
emotions are driven by factors we are unaware of—turns out to be correct. If you’re in a happy,
optimistic, ambitious mood, check the weather. Sunny days make people happier and more
helpful. In a taste test, you’re likely to have a strong preference for the first sample you taste—
even if all of the samples are identical. The more often you see a person or an object, the more
you’ll like it. Mating decisions are based partly on smell. Our cognitive failings are legion: we
take a few anecdotes and make incorrect generalizations, we misinterpret information to support
our preconceptions, and we’re easily distracted or swayed by irrelevant details. And what we
think of as memories are merely stories we tell ourselves anew each time we recall an event.
That’s true even for flashbulb memories, the ones that feel as though they’ve been burned into
the brain:Like millions of people, [neuroscientist Karim] Nader has vivid and emotional
memories of the September 11, 2001, attacks and their aftermath. But as an expert on memory,
and, in particular, on the malleability of memory, he knows better than to fully trust his
recollections... As clear and detailed as these memories feel, psychologists find they are
surprisingly inaccurate.Entanglement and spooky action at a distance; possibly could be the
basis for future experiments in teleportation? The idea that two particles once they become
entangled, are connected no matter how far the distance, and the act of measuring one particle
affects the other particle. +most of the universe is dark energy. All of the billions of stars and
planets and galaxies amounts to only 4% of what it actually is. 23% dark matter and 73% dark
energy. In other words: we have no idea what the universe we are living in actually is!!Perhaps if
this is some type of civilization, maybe the 73% is some type of impenetrable interface that the
“creators” of the simulation use to control the program. They have allowed us to discover and
become self aware only to a very fixed amount, and have created a wall that stops us from
going further. +++++++++++++++++++++CHURNOL///JUR/NOBLECANT:FIND:MY:CHOOS|||
OR|||MY/CHURNULL>>>>ESSE++(hand it in---not your homie--your term paper)+++kaysinblox
is my Pokemon go name-------+++++----PSI-ENCE/PSI-KICK/PSI+BORG PSI+LENCE/PSI-
KLOPS/PSI-FUR /SARI+PSI-FUR/NE+PSI-KO+WILL-DO////the psi-klops-said-to-the -blockman-
PSI-LENCE+IS+TO+NE1+WHO+KAN+find-their-reflektion-in-a-pool-of-dirt-ELECTrIc+FEEL--
>>IT///PSI+PSUPPOZED+TO+WAKE+UP-2DA||||||||| SOFTLY+CERULEAN+++++++++
~~~~THA--PROLIM--WIT--NYC---IS+ITS--Unrelenting--magnetism+++|||UNAFFORDABILItY IS
THE ONLY+REPULSIOn+++ AwgEst/foreteenth/2WentE6-teen/Eye/M/The-you-NIVERSE-
Becoming+Eye{ware}of_itself +Wen+I-Look-at the angles-of industry-/defining and delineating -
civilized -my kitchen holds the key -smaller and smaller distinctions -nano particles-speeding up-
inflating -expanding-we are born into this-and at the same time we are made of this-matter-dark
matter-solids liquids-gases- we may only be a fraction of the total mass-but we are coming
closer to transcending distances -stretching ourselves into a flat length of spaghetti to travel to
other universes through a wormhole /that exists simultaneously in many places at once --I just
want to have a purpose - other than someone else's purpose-I am stronger than I thought+++
+january 6/2016//+++how is your novel coming, and the thoughts you dont like to have+++
+Thanks for coming back// susie said to me//as I languished over the thought of this simple
task//and its drawn out preparation///journeying from the smaller island to the main island//from
one mode of transport to another/where do all these people come from?//and not that I am
holding it against them//i cant help but notice the jeering unattractiveness of these passengers//
its as if the farther out you go into the unnamed neighborhoods of the forgotten new york city
boroughs the more unsightly tour surroundings and more unsightly the people//fat people/ tired
people/ im not necessarily referring to physical beauty here either/ but the inner kind/ the way
the light within these poor and overworked beings has been somehow dimmed or stomped out
from years of oppression or poverty///---disjointed thought: do u ever get the feeling like you
have discovered the actual meaning of our tiny existence on this minuscule planet within this
vast universe--that is continually expanding faster and faster until one day we will mist likely be
ripped to shreds by the fabric of he very thing that created us? our environment our creator will
also be our destroyer--i mean// we are OF the stars//just another transubstantiayion or
metamorphosis of space rock and gas// carbon and water--pinched through a wormhole and
stewed over eons like a primordial soup in the crockpot of space/eventually hardening into a
planet on which organisms trickled through and multiplied to gain mass and distort and evolve
into ever more sophisticated versions of themselves slight tweaks every million or so years to
arrive at this form at this moment in timeand space to have this particular thought about our
collective dire future of being consumed by our own son///++++++++
More Than We Are: An Analysis of Rainer Rilke’s “Archaic Torso of Apollo”
The first line of Rilke’s “Archaic Torso of Apollo” confronts us with a frank assertion: “Wecannot
know his legendary head.” The line leaves us to ponder what it means to know when a legend is
our only guidepost, but also asks how Rilke can then continue to describe one aspect of this
unknown “with eyes like ripening fruit,” a metaphor for Apollo’s gaze which we will soon find out
to be one of the most puzzling paradoxes in the poem. Thus far, we are given a sense of the
fragmentary nature of our knowledge of Apollo and perhaps a feeling of longing for the
rectification of what once was whole. Rilke’s further observation of the statue reveals, however,
that there may be a way of knowing Apollo that extends beyond this paradox. This way of
knowing involves a careful explication of the many fragments involved from Rilke’s experience
of the sculpture to our own experience of the poem. This process allows us to see ourselves as
active participants in an evolving work of art that begins as a poem, but eventually extends
beyond itself to burst, as Rilke claims later on, “from all the borders of itself, like a star.” The
beauty of the poem lies in concentrating our experiences into a catalyst for change. Ultimately,
we will be faced with this opportunity with Rilke’s final assertion, “You must change your life,”
whose implications allow the poem to become much more than what it initially seems to be, in
much the same way that Rilke’s initial knowledge of Apollo is transformed by his experience of
the statue. The next line in the poem reads as though Rilke is taken aback: “Yet his torso is still
suffused with brilliance from inside, like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low, gleams in
all its power.” His observations reveal to him that he is not the only observer. Apollo is somehow
able to see him, even without his legendary head, and should beckon us as the reader to
wonder the same thing. If Apollo is able to see Rilke, then perhaps through his poem and our
reading of it, he is in turn observing us. If he were, his gaze would present itself as brilliance
from inside. However, without a sculpture to place this brilliance within, and only words before
us, the gaze begins to take on a new connotation. Perhaps the brilliance of his poem is imbuing
us in the same way that the sculpture became illuminated for Rilke. Otherwise, our reading of
the poem, like Rilke’s observation of the statue’s “curved breast,” would be missing something,
and could not, as Rilke claims, “dazzle you so.” Otherwise, it would just be a good poem,
perhaps in the same way that without Apollo’s gaze, the statue would just be a good statue. It is
this light which gives it something more. The understanding of this interplayCHANNEL1000000
39 of 5 2between disparate elements and how they translate into an overall experience is
crucial to our understanding of how the poem will ultimately produce its final meaning.Rilke
continues gazing past the curved breast to the loins of the statue, introducing the element of sex
as a metaphor for Rilke’s further engagement with it. He moves from a state of observation into
a kind of union with the statue: “nor could a smile run through the placid hips and thighs to that
dark center where procreation flared.” Although Apollo is dead, the light that once illuminated the
center of his sexual being now resonates as a smile. A smile, it seems, is coming as much from
Rilke as from the statue itself and signifies that Apollo is still alive, at least in his capacity to illicit
a response in Rilke. The statement calls to question the paradox of sex as a type of death. Rilke
notes that the smile “descends into that dark center” where perhaps the light has turned off, but
nonetheless signifies Apollo’s essence to an even greater degree. Rilke is now engaging with
Apollo in a very deep way. He has moved beyond his inability to know “his legendary head” and
progressed into a proclamation of intimacy with the core essence of his being. This not only
shows how far Rilke has come, but perhaps foreshadows where he is going and how he will use
this intensely experiential information to support his final claim.At this point the statue is bursting
“from all the borders of itself” and glistening “like a wild beasts fur.” It seems the more he gazes
the less he is able to confine the light, or gaze, of Apollo which is emanating so powerfully from
the statue at this point as to reach a threshold that is uncontainable. Apollo’s gaze is now an
experience which Rilke cannot tame or deny. It is an experience which defies categorization or
classification and is moving beyond Rilke’s initial paradox of knowing and becoming something
greater. If perhaps, he was initially somewhat skeptical of his initial assertion about his inability
to know Apollo, his experience now seems undeniable. So much so that he stops to speak to us
directly as if to engage us with his full attention before he makes his closing statements.The end
of the poem—“ for here there is no place that does not see
you ”—seems to harken back to the very first line (“with eyes like
ripening fruit,”) as though Rilke is making a concession. If, in Rilke’s assertion, the eyes of
Apollo in legend are “like ripening fruit” then perhaps to know Apollo would be to actually taste
the fruit and experience the paradox for oneself. Rilke realizes that the essence of Apollo is not
simply about looking at a sculpture within a museum and writing about it, but rather about
experiencing oneself as a fragment within a much larger whole. A whole which encompasses in
this instance the legend of Apollo, an artist’s rendering of his torso, Rilke’s experience of his
torso, and our experience of Rilke’s poem. Rilke goes a step further in his final claim—“you
must change your life”—transitioning from contemplation to authoritative action as though he
has become transformed by his experience enough that he begins to see the true nature of
interaction involved, thereby illustrating that it is now up to us to complete the poem. It is not a
specific statement in the sense that there are as many ways to change one’s life as there are
ways of living, but the beauty of the statement is in the infinite possibility of the idea. It is up to
us to decide how to change our life, but in doing so we become as much a part of the poem as
the torso, Rilke, and the unknowable Apollo himself.Works CitedRilke, Rainer Maria. Selected
Poetry. Ed. And trans. Stephen Mitchell. New York: Vintage, 1984. Print.+++++++++PROOF
READING EXERCISE+++++++= MARCH 22, 2018-------First reaction is I like the second one,5,
7, 9, 10 and 12 all seem necessary to me for what you are trine convey like they all root the
reader in the earth and the sensory details and justthe details in gen, seem to support the whole
theme of like just beingpresent and mindful and learning to appreciate these details and i think
those specific stanzas would be a shame to lose just cuz to a kid i would think those things
would be important, esp. birthday parties.--------------------------------------------I just had thethought
That maybe our external reality is getting close and closer to resembling the frequency of the
number [pi]. Which IMO, might present very similarly to a state of kind of madness where the
frequencies are constantly shifting ever so subtly but doing so according to very specific earth
based and three dimensional rules. <as opposed to satellite based which is where the main
media station of the Frotopia mindscape currently is implanted>. The scion and the sword is
wielded by y’all ,so the I in this paragraph is actually you, [term paper] but you of course
wouldn’t think that because that is what the Frotopians, especially jankyslice, want/s you to
think, or have jangled your janky receptors to be tweaked to believe and interpret. The solution,
keep watching my show Frotopia: badlands on my YouTube resistance channel for cutting edge
advanced techniques and coolio tactics for straight up survival in dis headspace y’all. Peaceand
happy 2095! . Prez-Thompsonlox+++++++++below is some ramblings that may need a lot of
editiing..NARRATOR:consciousness / it really is a dark kind of surrealism, a new twilight zone, is
what we are entering into , a new age where all this other shit has to GO,maybe we are entering
new, higher levels. what if this is just the beginning? how can you carry around so many
paradoxes in your mind without going mad, and yes, i have also gone mad a few times, maybe
out of curioustiy and just wanting to explore that framework and seeing where that leads, and
what can i say, maybe madness is the new normal? maybe you need that madness to
appreciate that sanity? and yes that is also something that is true. so, what
now,CHANNEL1000000 41 of 5 2MUPPET 666:+notes on higher dimensional understanding.
+U have to look at it solipsistically [this is where the spiritual dimensions open up]{when your
mind is clear and quiet and you are in a state of unconditional self-Love, and your heart chakra
is open, that is when god will talk to you}+your body is a kind of spaceshipAnd the chakras are
the controls+u are all the players and your own player. At the higher levels it is about all the
players seamlessly using their individual strengths to support the structure of the whole.+OR
idk, i honestly might have to think about this section some
more...  My SPIRITUAL
& DOLPHIN HACKING PRACTICE SEEM TO BE ONE THING or TIED TO ONE MOTIVATION
OR GOAL {restoring honor to dolphin kind}-WHICH HOLDS/CONTAINS MY OTHER GOALS--
>{BEAUTY}{TRUTH}[LOGIC]{DISTILLATION/ARCHIVING/ DOCUMENTATION/HEIRARCHIES/
STRUCTURES/MYTH}

Mysticism forms the basis of my artistic practice {Sufi Mysticism in particular, but I suppose it
doesn’t matter so much at the end of the day}[in my particular manifestation, perhaps I am using
this concept/idea as a point of growth or departure, a familiar destination, and umbrella structure
to house my existing creative output, with the goal to either build upon this structure or branch
out/exit the structure entirely]++[also/+/let it be known, that I do not fully_believe |+necessarily
+dogmatically+or+even +partially(it varies on a daily basis)| in Islam, or any religion for that
matter, but I do feel the need to devote myself to some sort of practice in order to be able to first
understand exactly what that religion is about [& for the record what drew me to Sufism
INITIALLY was the vibrational/ mystical/musical aspects], if only first to be able to experience
that ancient knowledge in order to compare/contrast how it functions differently for each
individual in whatever time and place they may find themselves in][that is why mysticism,
outside of any organized religion, is appealing to me and perhaps will be ONE eventual
manifestation of my efforts, an attempt to redefine and update certain tenets and practices of
the mystic and to understand/redefine their functioning within modern aesthetic or ascetic
frameworks or modes][but this is just one goal i have among many, the main goal is simply to be
a [secret agent.008.mystic.lollyslice.dreamer?] ,and this goal/s/practice/multiple_practices are
ideas/actions/thoughts/closed_&_open_loops that I have decided to pursue within a variety of
different modes/channels/dimensions/&frameworks, that may or may not coincide with an actual
or concretized OTHER [i.e. you] perceiving or experiencing my practice {although I do enjoy
sharing it with people},CHANNEL1000000 45 of 5 2I just want to make clear that to have that
goal {of external validation or praise or appreciation and even just complete/full comprehension}
[of what I am trying to express as a summary of my motivations/desires/thoughts/ as both an
artist and human being][is itself difficult if not inherently impossible}but moreso to view [success-
[as a thing tied to fame or money or even marginal praise or recognition] as an end in itself
would actually somewhat contradict the basic tenets of what my spiritual practice/art practice/
theorist practice is all about.++++++++++++++++++++++castles+++chess+++other-
goalsAnother goal/ parallel or tangentially surfing alongside the first few is to develop over the
course of my entire lifetime/more or less/ a unified theory[which will admittedly not make much
sense in the beginning phases] of aesthetic/experience/vibration that is tied to my creative
output [and the many modes and channels in which that output can be experienced], that will/or
may appear admittedly fragmented at the various stages of its unfolding,+=+but the basis of
which is simply this childlike mysticism and mindset [which for some Sufis is just about loving
oneself unconditionally]} but for me is one of understanding, comprehension, combined with the
heart chakra based motivations of loving oneself and others.+Added to this, and maybe most
importantly or why I started my art practice to begin with is the impossible description of these
other spaces and channels and the divine channeling of what i've recently come to experience
as ecstatic reveries combined with similar but other less enthusiastic channels of perception and
all of the aesthetic or theoretical extensions that exist within those spectrums of thought and
experience.++// I do not necessarily feel the need to tie these experiences, perhaps like other
sufis or practitioners of islam, directly to the teachings of Muhammad[-_and all of the /bravado/
mystery/ emotion attached to this name// or the Qur'an, but am certainly interested in exploring
the connections, if any are there at all.//+=I realized that in order to do this successfully I had to
separate myself and prune a majority of external overgrowths, whether they be political,
spiritual, societal, sexual, cultural, or aesthetic, [that were infringing upon my creative space and
processes] and hitherto had to separate myself from the art world [to a certain extent]. In other
words, I needed to make myself into that oft misunderstood version of the “outsider” artist {by
choice, necessity, circumstance, & mere survival}, functioning within a framework or multiple
frameworks/exterior modes/channels that I felt I could perhaps do without [or I found were
actually distorting the types of vibrations my art practice seeks to hold [this thought is complex
and will eventually be extrapolated on]./// I hope to eventually be able to live up to that title more
fully throughout the course of my career and that archetype who for whatever reason simply
cannot function within the more mainstream parameters of the art world. I must make clear
however, that this decision, as of this writing, is first and foremost a spiritually based decision: a
confirmation of my ascetic values prioritizing themselves over my aesthetic values, but
ultimately my desire to walk both of these paths should ideally converge at some point in the
middle.CHANNEL1000000 46 of 5 2//;';//And perhaps I am also simply recognizing the need to
assert my individuality at a time when group identity politics and the fracturing of the American
psyche into tribalistic modes of expression is another conversation, because of my own
personal history, I feel is complex, layered, controversial, misunderstood, and the expression of
certain aspects of my identity within these existing frameworks cannot be easily simplified into
any of the camps that lend themselves to easy digestion.[][][][///So, what to do about this?
Basically, I have to forge ahead with all of my crds on the table, and I have to reamin steadfast
and honest and of course, any artist can do this, or make this move, or explore this mode, and
create any identity or myth or legend or framework for themselves that they feel is warranted or
necessary, and that is also a point I would like to make, yes, they can, and that is what I am
doing. I am walking this path which is simultaneously laid out before me, if only because I am
placing the stepping stones in front of my feet as I trudge forward./;';/// That is not to say that I
am not confused, or oftentimes troubled or nervous at times, but rather that I simply feel that I
have too much/too little/ to say about too many varied and disparate subjects[but i must push
forward and keep connecting the dots]/+[and maybe i simply have an energy problem, a
hyperactivity problem, a channeling problem, a focusing problem] Maybe, maybe, maybe the
only way for me to adequately express what is really and truly on my mind [and isn't that the
goal of all artists] is to risk coming off as either misunderstood, and at one extreme: the crazy,
narcissistic, and perhaps confused individual who either should get over his indecisiveness and
choose one topic and focus, or just give up all together and join a monastery or at the other
extreme: just an artist who has too many aspirations, points of departure,/and maybe I/you are
worried that I will not be able to find my way back to the source of my aspirations which at the
end of the day, are as humble, simple, and even lame, and boring as the aspirations of most
humans on this earth. However, maybe I am just walking the middle road, the luke, medium,
warm resolve to forge an art practice out of the same kind of devotion and dedication and ritual
and sacrifice that one puts into a spiritual practice, [these are my ascetic motivations],///but the
pleasure and beauty and truth I have always invested in, and the pursuit of the aesthetic &
ascetic principles tied to these things [which can range from distilling the essence of these
concepts and funneling them through one or more of the many modes and frameworks I have
adopted throughout my life in order to do this.///In terms of parameters beyond these definitions
that perhaps exist in that same space of the mind where we draw our maps and diagrams and
write our theorems and do our multiplication tables but music and other kinds of more aesthetic
sensations i have found can exist here as well, and this is also a good space to edit and tweak
and draw and create [at least for me]///, because these spaces to me are very elegant and
beautiful as an end in themselves and I have sought for a very long time to find a way to be able
to somehow translate and house this very simple and pure almost entirely and divinely
intellectual space which when mixed with the sublime or more emotional states of ecstasy and
bliss and joy and religious or spiritual reverie and awe {which are also tied to the spaces of myth
and legend and folklore and fairy tale which I am invested in exploring and uniting with these
other spaces}, that is when I encroach moreCHANNEL1000000 47 of 5 2upon the idea of
beauty {or my personal idea/conception of it} which exists perhaps in tandem with {at times} or
entirely separate from [at times} space of truth/logic/ and abstract extensions that are at the
forefront of my mind stemming or branching from these points maybe are judgement/routine/
tradition/ and on the more? negative end things like skepticism/criticism/ routine/ and even
domination/power/greed/lust/envy /etc/[i want to keep adding to this list], of which, I just
described.//But in the very literal and simplest and pure definition of these terms to the layered,
often theoretical and complex interpretations of these same ideas I hope to find a balance
between the two and find multiple modes and frameworks for expressing these notions , and I
still feel like these concepts are worth exploring maybe even as an end in themselves./And in
my mind, these are the hardest kinds of questions, but the most fulfilling to answer: how does
one make a beautiful painting? How does one create a profession for themselves inside of the
framework of another profession that is supposed to exist as an answer to one question, but is
actually answering another {what questions is the art world answering in 2018, and do these
questions have anything to do with the kinds of questions that I am interested in answering in
relation to truth, beauty, pleasure, the divine, the spirituality in art?}.//And like everything that is
worth pursuing, or difficult to understand, or mysterious or paradoxical at its core, that is what I
hope that my art practice can, or will, or is doing[however lamely in the beginning].Also, I
realized, after much soul searching that my art practice and spiritual practice were, or maybe I
thought should be, one in the same, or complimentary to the kinds of messages I have been
receiving in various channels and dimensions [mostly of a higher, divine, or crown chakra
based], in the sense that I needed an outlet for this brand of intensity that now comprises the
electricity and anxiety running through my blood and bones, and the peace and bliss as well.//
But to limit my creative output by channeling or funneling my heart {the ROOT of me, the
mystic} or my inspirations and my own very specific or idiosyncratic or peculiar vibrations [of
which i am continually tasked with inventing new ways to house these unified/simplified ideals]
but the goal is to do so in a "quality" way despite appearances. Lack of decoration, color, or the
adoption of just very basic spaces, frameworks, or modes is not contrary to what it is I am trying
to do, but it is varied and complex and essentially it is to develop and guard and protect my
heart [which may or may not be symbolically expressed or alluded to at times in various ways]
starting with my own personal spiritual practice {but I simply think of it as a way of being/
existing}..///./.++==dimeniosns121212.23123 thru 3124.XX:/CHANNEL1000000 48 of 5 2FUCK
THE FUCKING SHITTY ASS CODE THAT IS THIS FREE DESIGN TEMPLATE>///[][]b. so part
of my practice involves exploring that space/those spaces in attempt to understand this culture/
sub-cultures and where I fit within/between them,c. er---+++humor {some/parts of my practice is
actually about laughing or creating environments that are not so serious, more about being light
and healing the body/mind in order to enter a creative space}[while at the same time i do not
shy away from the darker sides of the spectrum if only because I do seek and require that
balance and dichotomy and circular logic that spurs growth and creativity and makes us humans
the multi-dimensional and complicated creatures that we are,////d. [][][][] baking [I am a baker
and enjoy serving delicious pies to people as an expression of the love and care that goes into
each pie], and I have to do all of this in the face of a culture, society, media, and even MYSELF,
who I am not entirely convinced values my heart or OUR hearts in the same way that I feel our
hearts should be valued. In other words, our hearts are extremely important vessels for carrying
a very specific and complicated vibration that we commonly refer to as love. I feel this basic and
rudimentary message, carried in this particular chakra, is the most important one at this
particular juncture and time in human history./// Finally, here is a tract I wrote about mysticism,
and sort of what it means to me, although, it is in no way a complete encapsulation or summary
of the true complexity of this mindset. And if I am always bringing up complexity it is because
there are aspects of my practice that WANT to be misunderstood, or to appear perhaps either
deeper or more layered than the aesthetic or simplified or idiosyncratic framework or mode in
which i am presenting to you an idea. I do this and say this because I am not entirely convinced
myself that any of the concepts or ideas or emotions that I have just articulated are actually true
or reflective of my own true nature, which is the endless struggle and paradox and darkly poetic
sub-reality that the truly mystical being must inhabit in order to be able to grow in any way, and i
would imaging this applies to the people viewing or listening to my art. So, appearance and
presentation and framework is one thing, or one mode, but i am also saying pay attention to the
sub layers [and i hope there are many][and i hope they get more complex and intertwined and
even more sophistacted as time goes on}{even though in my mind sophistication or taste or
class is also another framework that i willingly enjoy playing with and subverting or purposefully
turning on its head, and i have to do this from the perspective of what these ideas mean in this
particular time and place and culture in which i find myself, which is ALREADY a place where
this kind of subversion and inversion is happening ALL the time, either just as a result of the
mixing of information and tastes and disciplines on instagram or the internet or IRL///f. so, yea,
its a complicated time to be alive, and also a complicated time to discover ones true or fleeting
identity, and maybe I and We need to become more comfortable with giving up or being more
fluid with certain aspects of our own identities simply because many cultural and aesthetic
modes and emotions and reactions that may have served us in the past, no longer seem to be
serving us and are in fact making us regress instead of grow. So, the mostCHANNEL1000000
49 of 5 2incomprehensible but perhaps the most important aspect of my practice as an artist in
general is the idea that i still do not know and cannot categorize neatly the true desire that i
have to express anything at all really. Where does this desire come from, and why do I feel the
need to express it in this manner? The only thing I do know, with 100% certainty or maybe 99%
certainty is I chose this profession, that is perhaps the only thing that is real to me, and that
really matters about what i am doing. so, as for mysticism and my spiritual practice, this is what i
wrote:The DOLPHIN HACKER is the one who sees time as irrelevant and the body as a vessel
in which to house/interpret/experience/vibrate the only vibration/color/hue/experience that has
remained constant and unwavering throughout all the centuries. That vibration is... well, I am
fairly confident that you[my other love] already know it, so my question to you is: why do you
need me to tell it to you, to paint it, or draw it, or sing it for you? And why do you not also call
yourself a mystic?//Perhaps because in some comical or poetic or needlessly serpentine/
complex and divinely paradoxical way, to own this label, would be to go against this vibration I
am attempting to articulate for you, correct? So, let me attempt to do a better job. What if the
word “mystic” and all that stands for is just a coded concept: a spiritual[non-spiritual]
practice[non-practice] that accepts //ALL THAT IS// as necessary, but unnecessary at the same
time./././.The logic of the mystic who sees the tangential and fractured truths in all philosophies
and religious and spiritual practices and art forms is that I must live and experience the
unfolding of these things in order to understand what is behind them/behind the veil/the man
behind the curtain. I have to participate within these frameworks and the time and place in which
i find myself. I have to drop all of my identity markers and signifiers while at the same time
harnessing all of the powers of those frameworks and appearances {physical, emotional,
intellectual, ideological, as it relates to the perception of my own personal shell and in regard to
all of the aesthetic shells my artistic output may adopt—how that art looks or appears to others}
to first be able to maneuver through this jungle of materiality to arrive at that spiritual center.
That unified, glowing, radiant light that connects all consciousness beings in all dimensions.////.
dragon breath crystal orb space: Spills upon my name and character and identity are part of the
equation— the process, the journey—but i am willing to absorb and endure these slings and
arrows and rocks and stones because i know my true self and my true and divine nature as a
loving being with a good heart and true intentions. That is my philosophy, but at the same time I
have NO philosophy, I just AM, and you just ARE, and maybe it is about going back to that
simplicity and holding up actions that increase that connection to that glowing center, which for
the {sufi} mystic is simply polishing and growing and mending our broken hearts, and then
guarding and protecting our hearts against all of the ways in which they can again be
shattered.///wdfwef/// The motive, and my motivation as an artist {a dolphin hacker} or just [sam
jackson or ganesh or any muppet number you want} or even just [person, being, soul] is to love
and be loved in all of the various manifestations and ways that can happen. All you have to do is
eliminate lower vibrational and lower dimensional feelings as they enter or present themselves
in whatever form and try to pierce through your divine veil, even if I myself is the one making
you feel these emotions. That is how weird and complex and almost comical the process of
transformation becomes to get to this place, to witness a work of art that grazes dat G. bricca
knows what I’m talking about, right b? (distant squeaks) lllkkk
eeeahkhkas sdfhk.... blowhole rapture and shit.///wdwer/mortality///construct;;;; And the default
setting for most people is: this is bullshit, I don't believe in this. But that is the final level,
transitioning from a place of logic and skepticism and ego to one of love and transcendence and
bliss.THIS IS DRAGOO: the inter-dimensional and shicky shicky oriented dolphin mystic painter
and also curator of the new contemporary wing of the moral mind map of the dolphin art
museum talking about his art: //GLARSISSIM //AND ZCHZCHRNISM // holmes//truth be told, i
am in the process of correcting this sonic audio vomiting that you may recognize as nano-frink
code, but in the meantime you can sift and saunter and sashay and swim through it, just take
one deep breath before continuing cuz it is basically just one infinite run on squeak. i would like
to say i designed it that way, and in a sense, i did, because i really didn't have to blow very hard
out my blowhole any of the concepts of jumbled ideas or thoughts i am about to present or
underhandedly whisper into your confused human ear [whispers menacingly](which prolly cant
even pick up the full range of frequencies im trying to sling at yall), so my questions to you
happen to be : why are you here, why are you continuing to be here , when there is so much
other shit to do on the internet and this planet in general. could it be that u, the other, the
internet stranger, in some charming and adorable way, actually gives a fuck about me, as a
dolphin, a painter, , as aa moral orally fixated sex machine and artist, as a non-human, as an
alien, with all of the complex thoughts perceptions, and shallowly articulated hopes and non-
dreams that typically come attached with certain dolphins and other noble moral chinky-chinks
of the animal kingdom, yea , dats what i thought homie ,,,, no words, no words cuz u really is
that cheap, you really is that muhfucking cheap and u think you is hot shit and you got your
booshy little head slice stuck on your neck piece there and all im saying is, that it smells
comical, it looks comical to us dolphins and the actions that are attached to this process, the
way it juts out from your body, to us and the way that my KIND swims and moves and sashays
and dances through the water, this movement is what we have come to define as the point of
ALL movement, or the point of departure from old outdated and archaic ways of being that no
longer serve us in the darkest and lightest senses or glitches or variations of that word// of
COURSE it doesnt make sense at first, OF course, this diatribe requires second and thrid
courses, not just the primi's not jus tthe primi's mmmmm---kkkkkkk, so drugs are in fact, badly
orchestrated and the architecutre in which they moreal stances are housed is what im trying to
get at, and the aesthetic principes tied to these processes and the way in whcih dolphin
shamans have had to act as guides for centuries even unbenkwownst to humans and other less
moral and savage like beings, u think u is at the top of the food chain, is that what you chink?
well, this thought will be continued later once the reception and connection clears...now as for
the other matter at hand., - i have nothing against these people and other dolphins who align
themselves with them either, and perhaps was drawn into the types of situations and
backgrounds and back drops and dark alley ways and 3am street corners and shallow or deep
uncharted waters where some of these seedy mofos and sharks and barracudas typically swim
and hunt and craft their sonic harmonies, and i have nothing against these fish, and probably
am very much related to the class or species or mindset or archetype of the dark "other" / sure, i
have dabbled in these darker arts and shadowy landscapes shark infested waters in the past
and am all the better for it actually, and my dolphin art practice definitely does not shy away
from any one corner or aspect or any attachments tied to any one of these identities and maybe
my life is just about exploring and experiencing as many of these aspects as i can in order to
beCHANNEL1000000 51 of 5 2able to eventually make a painting that i can honestly say
reflects my true nature and idenityi in such a way as --sever this sentence mid thought, because
to finish it would be not only impossble but pointless because well, i am a painter and painters
are supposed to be muysterious and confusing and an all around mind fuck which i happen to
be very good at, so i guess i chose the right profession.so, yes, I AM a painter at heart, and all
of this writing, and music i make and whatever i do, in my mind, is tied to painting, and the
development of that voice as a painter. This took me a sec to actually figure out, but the voice of
my paintings, at their core, are supposed to be humorous, they are kind of like muppets to me,
and exist in that same dimension. All that said, nothing is actually what it seems, and that is
another aspect of my art practice, the video and musical and drawing components are, i
suppose, extensions of everything else, but it is all connected seamlessly or jankily in my head.
So, these writings and philosophical musings and all the fragmented meanings therein are
supposed to give the reader a clue as to what is happening in my internal mind and soul spaces
and thereby also give the reader a clue into my painting process as well.Also, time and spacing
and meter and rhyme and rhythm are important to me as well, and the production associated
with those concepts, so maybe deep down, I only feel that i need to make around 10 small
paintings per year, and maybe that is what i NEED to do, but my external reality i am confronted
with sometimes says i have to make or produce more than that, and that is my point of
departure from the art world. I want to be an artist that is continually shifting and jostling my
practice in time in specific reactions to specific circumstances, so that my practice never truly
dies, but the paintings and works that I hold MOST dear and the works that actually pain my
soul to depart with [i.e. when i sell them or give them up] are the works that were actually
created with very specific germinating conditions and circumstances bred more of inspiration,
vision, and mania [i also am prone to large swings of emotion from depression and anxiety to
giddyness and hypo-mania, which i am trying to integrate into my art practice because these
states are HIGHLY tied to my art practice and output]. in other words, my innate character and
personality and romantic and fantastical philosophies are very authentically and existentially tied
to that mythological and fated conception or ideal of the troubled or absent minded or heroic
artist or expressionist abstract painter, whose head is always in the clouds, who is prone to
large swings of mood and personality, and this is actually very much truly the kind of person I
am, although I have had to mask this persona and these deviations from normal behavior simply
as a means of survival and fitting most comfortably within whatever external societal framework
i have found myself in, in the past. Moving forward, i am attempting to integrate more of my own
personal fantasies and mood swings and characters and authentic MOOD and FANTASY based
perceptions and conceptions of the world, and my own internal world that i often express
through writing and poetry and music and fantasy narratives, so maybe moving forward it is just
about saying, this is me, as an artist and grand persona, i am actually all of those things that
you want me to be, but at the same time I hope that my work is not at all what it initially may
appear to be, in the sense that the context and vision is continually shifting in time and space,
and especially with the added dimension of the internet and my recent foray and exploration in
digital work, which i am finding to be perhaps the most dead medium of all, even though it is
also the most practiced and widely available medium and in the modern age, perhaps that is the
default medium, we all are participating as digital aritsts through social media and our current
engagement in this space, so my challange as an artist is still to hold up my identity as a painter,
someone whose head is floating around in all kinds of mystical and moody and heroic clouds
while at the same time the compulsion to continually do the “wrong” thing, for whatever wrongly
justified or misunderstood reason, is something I would consider right about who I am, or about
what I have the potential to become. I would be remiss if I didn't express at this juncture my
desire to know what this potential is, to surmount these insurmountable walls, to heal what is
broken inside of me. But the problem is and always seems to be that the obstacles appear so
gargantuan and severe and horrific, the traumas so entrenched that simply taking the first step
feels like betrayal. I am betraying the familiar misery Ive spent the majority of my life becoming
cozy with, growing up with, playing around, molding my personality and perversions, friends and
lovers and enemies in reaction to. I’ve already lost a good slice of my life to JUICY SNIPPETS
+JINGLE BELL MYSTERIESPROPPED UP BY COMPULSIONSSINISTER DER O’ CHICKA
HANDBAGS and the vile algorithmsRECTANGLES ///PROPPED UP GANDERS INTO THE
SUN /responsible for most of muppetkinds lost children /THWARTED POTENTIAL // DEEP AND
SACRED CHANNELSTHE WILD DREAMS AND impossible weights and values of
those ex
periencesin my mind.For whatever reason, I feel I will always be at odds with the realities I am
confronted with, because I believe the basis of my being is my ability to forge a new, better
reality, that functions on many aesthetic, literary, metaphorical, sensual, and textural fronts. I
know I can constructa new onea more functioning oneand one in which I feel the most
comfortableONE WITH SOFTER, EASY ON THE EYES SHAPES AND HUESGLISTENING
CHORD PROGRESSIONS AND PYRAMIDAL HARMONIES WITH THE KINDof sheen and
spazz that only a well placed minor chord or perhaps detuned E stringor A

CAN PROPERLY VIBRATE.NUMBERS, THE NUMBERS REALLY ARE QUITE BEAUTIFUL.

-et-es-tine-,,<<wad+u+done>>888

THE CURE EXISTS SOMEWHERE/ANYWHERE/ AND PERHAPS IT IS THE CASE THAT THE
ILLNESS I AM AFFLICTED WITH INCONVENIENTLY RESEMBLES ATTRIBUTES
ASSOCIATED WITH OTHER ILLNESSES and their more comfortable modes of digestion and
treatment

THE SUM OF THE PARTS ADDING UP TO THE WHOLE THAT IS ME, I WOULD
POSTULATE, ARE PERHAPS MUCH MORE COMPLEX OR STATISTICALLY RATHER RARE.
I HAVE ALWAYS HAD A PROBLEM WITH LOOKING PEOPLE DIRECTLY IN THE EYE/DOING
SO, TO THIS DAY, MAKES ME EXTREMELY UNCOMFORTABLE/YET I FORCE MYSELF TO
DO IT BECAUSE IVE LEARNED OVER TIME THAT PEOPLE THINK YOU ARE LYING TO
THEM WHEN YOU PURPOSEFULLY AVOID EYE CONTACT DURING THE COURSE OF A
LONG CONVERSATION//
 muppets continue reading:
//but since i am shiva god of cats and destruction / once i learn to compartmentalize all the
exterior drama and rippled nipple nobodies contributing zilch to the sum total mass of human
experience / i can zilch these people with the power of my mind slices and sauces and soups
seasoned with all of the 13 story 60 degree climate controlled castles in my future mind / where i
shall live out my days in this castle and control gallery programming and performance
scheduling on the other side of the castle. My snag drones shall live on the roof which you can
get to either by elevator or the climbing walls on either side of the castle [think durable archival
rainbow colored ropes jutting out of the concrete and chilluns scaling the walls much faster than
their fat parents/ two safety clowns on either wall shall patrol the safety blanket in case any of
the scalers slip or lose their grip / as far as the gallery sections / there will hopefully be
permanent kind of cement glory holes (but for your head and eyes) that visitors can put their
head in this concrete hole shaped like a cabeza with audio vomiting in each ear and a long
narrowing chamber at the end of which shall be an iPhone (so, total like hunned iPhones )
projecting any image that I the curator will choose. either of my own making or any of the other
potentials and chosens. maybe the proceeds will half go to causes such as supporting emerging
artists, grants, awards, exhibition opportunities etc. etc. also, want the whole place to be
architected according to fibonacci’s whims and the golden ration of that beast apollo muse
entrenched in all of our beauty slices if we really want to get all gritty about it. This is going to be
a lifelong undertaking , and probably will require much sweats and determinations / but I hope to
get there with enough sweats and funding and inspired universal breaks and face caresses from
god, ganesh, apollo, muppet421, cory, y’all, all the other muppets, dolphin moral superiors like
bricca and sha sha and alefarian, and the white city, buenos aires, the matrix, all the mind
maps, all the parallels, the suburbs of chicago in 2001, and the upstate of new york in 2020.

The meaning of an artist’s work should be found in the level and lengths of freedom an artist is
willing to go to to 1. create their work 2. be an active participant in the broader spectrum of
experience and unfolding that opens up when one embarks upon this path. =] Being an artist
and making work, for me, is such an imperative that I’ll find my very identity slipping away from
me when I censor my own emotions, desires, drives, wants, and needs whether mentally,
physically, spiritually, sexually, etc. I daily have to remind myself I am walking a spiritual path
rooted in experiencing the length, breadth, and width of this space, its fractal dimensions,
expanding perimeters, parallel realizations, without fear, hesitation, regret, or guilt because
that’s the way it’s meant to be experienced. Maybe I’m learning that so much of communication
(the inputs and outputs and channels) is, or SHOULD be, about what either isn’t revealed, is

being withheld, or is being said or translated in a way that triggers suspicion or doubt. As well as
the inverse of those things: what triggers faith, belief, synchronicity, magic. I have so many
completely instantaneous “visions” + “epiphanies” + connections to sources of information that
most closely translate as what you see when I make a painting, but when I think about the
deeper connotations of the information I am receiving, it is rather profound. I hesitate to even
want to name or articulate any of the kind of information I am receiving because of how absurd,
alien, and magic confirming it all would be. Intuition is my modus operandi for whatever reason,
this has always just been my strength: arriving at conclusions or answers without even knowing
how I got there. It’s gotten to the point where I’ve stopped believing in accidents, not out of
some fantastical wish that the world actually have meaning beyond our wildest conceptions of
what meaning can potentially look like or feel like, but because I feel that if I focus enough, I can
actually connect disparately spaced dots and draw logical enough conclusions as to why certain
events, people, or things have happened or are happening in both my life and the larger
contexts in which I exist. How high does the chain of spiritual/existential command go? Who is
calling the shots at the edges of interstellar space? Doesn’t the “line” that governs what is
acceptable or unacceptable forms of communication also tangentially dictate what is really
being communicated on more subterranean levels? How does all of this relate to the spaces we
all find ourselves increasingly inhabiting against the illusion that we actually have a choice in the
matter? What if the internet in actuality is our collective achilles heel: a binary doomsday
manifestation algorithm coded into our waking minds by Lucifer herself as a rouse, or comical
existential bullet train straight to hell? What if the path we are all meant to walk involves turning
off all of this noise?

continues...
squeak_it_sha_shaI guess I want to also say that every human being seems to be born with an
innate potential,
and our lives also seem to depend upon our ability to adequately use or develop our potential to
the best of our abilities, strengths, efforts, and wills. It seems counterproductive to guide the
potential of certain humans whose lives and destinies may not even have an adequate former
guidepost, or readily apparent trajectory for what the hell they actually are, or are meant to be or
meant to do? I bet there are thousands of secret jobs out there for people who don’t even know
that they don’t know that they qualify for them simply because they are who they are. In other
words, I bet a future booming industry orbits around the poetic unfolding of those completely
inspired and idiosyncratic voices whose heights depend upon them tapping into their
authenticity. I bet there are positions for these beautiful souls whose hope and courage radiates
from their pores simply through the act of “choosing to create” and being themselves instead of
just another cog in the most terrifying of mechanized and haunted wheels triggering a rising
swell of yearned for relief from the real life trenches of a horror vacuum that can only be
adequately comprehended by the guttural bellows of a being in mind burning existential pain.

ok .........then.....
Help me find a calm oasis where I may retire for a time, a stretch of relief even if its just another
lonely island. people as large as oak trees, hinting at blue hued clues revealing truths that scare
the shit out of me.
NICK continues:/dec 30 entry:

what if its fatum meum verum est to lose my mind? or what if its somehow part of my destiny: a
question pondered by a gut instinct perpetually experiencing deja vu? Maybe I can lose it and
keep it at the same time? Figure out a way to preserve some working links and connections
back to the main network. I’m guess I’m a “channeler” or one who channels: a person
comfortable and naturally adept at losing himself... a reflexive extinct so masterfully
camoflaouged as to enmesh itself precisely within the boundaries of my physcial, mental,
emotional, and spiritual forms. I AM my non-existence: I am the king chameleon secret king, not
of choice but of necessity. It is fatum meum verum est. Penitus is latin for internet, as an aside.
My problem has always been centering myself: physically, mentally, spiritually. I get too lost too
easily. I’ve only recently discovered that perhaps there are aspects of my personality and being
which belong entirely to an “other.” Yet, in my haste and urgency to experience wholeness or a
deeply yearned for relief from existential vacancy, fetishistic absurdity, and desires that make
absolutely no sense, perhaps I’ve been to eager to merge with it. I am of the unique position
where my physical exterior in no way matches or reflects the thoughts, needs, wants, and
desires in my skull. My skeleton is somehow linked to my fatum meum verum est and the final
narrative last holdout of ALL our hearts. There can be spiritual imperatives lodged so far deep in
the hearts of man as to manifest as an actual force designating the macro and micro behaviors
of all manner of organisms. What kind of organism do you think the heart is? What purpose do
you suppose writers, poets, artists have in deconstructing its wishes, needs, and karmically
collective secret passageways leading all the way back to the very start. Mycology, archeaology,
quantum entanglement, mental illness: these are just channeled seeds. I have answers I know
are right, but don’t know where they come from. conspiratorial ravages of fate threatening the
safe equilibrium of the status quo, disruption that wants to calmly pacify, the perfect masochist,
wholly submissive, stranger than fiction truths, the ugliest beauty, monday...
now that i got all these notes / and the freshness of that trauma still buzzing round my sockets
and such / perhaps it would be wise to quote a wise fellow / with the compassion of that most
desperate and bombastic vibrating class of darkly shining non heros / the loose mental screws
holding all of this nonsense hostage /

47: And if the wine you drink, the lip you press, End in the nothing all things end in
- yes- Then fancy while thou art, thou art but what Thou shalt be -nothing- thou shalt not be less.
-the rubaiyat / omar khayyam  be free lil ones ----------SIRI READS THE
FOLLOWING:“Dedication To A Country That Would Rather Eat Its Young”+When I die / all that I
ask is to be buried above ground / it is my wish / the wish of a dead man / will you grant me it /
just one wish / ? / I want to be above ground because I have a sneaking suspicion that I am
already dead / 3 times over / which means if I already rose above ground once / I am placing all
of my marbles on the number 13 / which requires me to postulate that the rising of my corpse /
should be met by the sun / I do not wish to be placed in a box / I do not wish to awaken in a
dark_damp room to claw my way to the surface / to haunt the glower and the gloom / again /
again / and / again /  I already prolly have the virus; lets be real / ; / I am starting to feel a bit
lucid and surreal / ; / I am starting to think that the simulation is collapsing / ; / starting to think
that what we’ve gained / is retracting /+If the inverse redacted’s should be aware of one
thing / , / perhaps its that certain waking corpses are but a radiant buzzing ring / ; / heralding
proclamations of a brightly shining thing / ; / melting, leaking, bursting from all the holes of itself /
; / I understand this madness finally / ; / this reason I’ve been animated / ; / maybe its to piece
together / a feeling I once decimated / a reality / where redemption / is met / with the gloaming /
and the moaning / the shaking for whats next / Nothing is real / nothing to feel / nothing to sing /
nothing to rest /+Also / I just think it would be cool to slowly watch the meat melt from my
flesh / ; / to expose the bones beneath / ; / a time capsule art piece for future fiends and beasts /
; / remember me not as I was / ; / but who I am / ; / I am a memory of a time that existed once /
existed then: now dead.
channeled by: nic

THE END

roll credits 
que exit music: “the rip” by portishead 

Embrace your inner low rent infp from the wranngled side of the ticsss -----|memory|-----
mightdelete