Post by Evergreen on Sept 10, 2022 19:59:46 GMT -5
1
Our limited space permits us to subsist with chosen fantasies. So we create a language of the imagination to delineate the contours of primordial cosmic space. Directing the flow of images from one pole of the battery to another and recirculating back again. This is what the clones do when they inhale and exhale. Now let's start surrendering to that flow, melting away all the rocks that stand firm in the way of the water. Nothing is permanent. Everything ebbs and flows. Even fixity is not constant. When we surrender we have to surrender to something on a level and it has to be either partial or comprehensive, and if it is comprehensive it has to be sincere which means it has to be beyond the nervous palpitations of the heart and the snaking of the tongue of merchants and deceivers. Therein lies the objective split between us and others - that split which is not adversarial, and not as if we are playing against each other on a chessboard, but which is intertwined with the currents of the waters that we surrender to.
2
Now then. We persist in affirming a worldview, which is a collection of symbols and ways of juggling and affirming those symbols, and we keep in mind that a worldview always implies a world even if it is only implied in fragments and vague incursions. The fragments flicker on and off in the illegible spaces of the world, those corners that are not defined by a pattern recognition system, that are constantly morphing and changing, fluidlike. So the worldview that we affirm is indebted to that which is not only beyond all worldviews, but which is antithetical to them. What can we make of such a worldview? Can we say that it is as if we are located in the center of an island with a coastline covered in sharp rocks at the foot of cliffs down which we can see ill-defined blob shapes plunge in the dead of night? Are the rocks around our island not slathered in the blood of those who sacrificed themselves at the very edges of its definition, those edges which vilify and mock what is circumscribed by the island endlessly, like an army of seething, saber-toothed wolves? (Why so cruel, nature?) Of course, every enclave is based on collective sacrifice, and that is why we, as an enclave, have sacrificed our participation in all other enclaves in order to maintain the distinction between our enclave and all other enclaves. But why do women cry at the precipices of our particular cliffs when the jumpers plunge down? Why do their tears trickle down and merge with the endless, careless, roaring waves? Perhaps because our enclave was formed out of the fabric of that cosmic Black Sun, that fabric which is the perfume of mourning like how condensation forms on the inside of a glass bottle, from the very depths of the Abyss that these jumpers are now plunging into. From those nameless, wordless depths that are all sweaty and perfumed tohu bohu like a nightclub in a red light district... that jungle endlessly beating against the tide of extinction.
3
I don't expect to see much in the coming years. More destruction, perhaps, as always. But it is a necessary dissolution. The manifestation of cosmic cycles, the Yuga, the ricorso. Multilayered muds like sediment carrying us away, draining us and subsuming us, ossifying us and fossilizing us. It's over. And I don't know what will come after us. I am not you, so I cannot pretend to empathize with or understand you. You have your own island of experiences, you idiot, and your own social group. I have pointed observation of my surroundings and that's about it. We are not the same. Even after a yearlong process of companionship, I can still barely understand you because you have almost nothing in common with me and your creed is antithetical to mine. Don't get me wrong, I respect you. But I don't see a peaceful way to compromise here. Maybe when we both die we'll start seeing the shells around us disintegrate exposing that delicate inner core within us which that little children's rapture and the beamships that come down will be eager to salivate over, lick and drink, eat it up like an alien with no boundaries. But until that day comes, my worldview will remain separate from your worldview in duration and war in duration with you will be congruent to peace in duration with me. And I will fight for my life.
My sweetest regards.
Our limited space permits us to subsist with chosen fantasies. So we create a language of the imagination to delineate the contours of primordial cosmic space. Directing the flow of images from one pole of the battery to another and recirculating back again. This is what the clones do when they inhale and exhale. Now let's start surrendering to that flow, melting away all the rocks that stand firm in the way of the water. Nothing is permanent. Everything ebbs and flows. Even fixity is not constant. When we surrender we have to surrender to something on a level and it has to be either partial or comprehensive, and if it is comprehensive it has to be sincere which means it has to be beyond the nervous palpitations of the heart and the snaking of the tongue of merchants and deceivers. Therein lies the objective split between us and others - that split which is not adversarial, and not as if we are playing against each other on a chessboard, but which is intertwined with the currents of the waters that we surrender to.
2
Now then. We persist in affirming a worldview, which is a collection of symbols and ways of juggling and affirming those symbols, and we keep in mind that a worldview always implies a world even if it is only implied in fragments and vague incursions. The fragments flicker on and off in the illegible spaces of the world, those corners that are not defined by a pattern recognition system, that are constantly morphing and changing, fluidlike. So the worldview that we affirm is indebted to that which is not only beyond all worldviews, but which is antithetical to them. What can we make of such a worldview? Can we say that it is as if we are located in the center of an island with a coastline covered in sharp rocks at the foot of cliffs down which we can see ill-defined blob shapes plunge in the dead of night? Are the rocks around our island not slathered in the blood of those who sacrificed themselves at the very edges of its definition, those edges which vilify and mock what is circumscribed by the island endlessly, like an army of seething, saber-toothed wolves? (Why so cruel, nature?) Of course, every enclave is based on collective sacrifice, and that is why we, as an enclave, have sacrificed our participation in all other enclaves in order to maintain the distinction between our enclave and all other enclaves. But why do women cry at the precipices of our particular cliffs when the jumpers plunge down? Why do their tears trickle down and merge with the endless, careless, roaring waves? Perhaps because our enclave was formed out of the fabric of that cosmic Black Sun, that fabric which is the perfume of mourning like how condensation forms on the inside of a glass bottle, from the very depths of the Abyss that these jumpers are now plunging into. From those nameless, wordless depths that are all sweaty and perfumed tohu bohu like a nightclub in a red light district... that jungle endlessly beating against the tide of extinction.
3
I don't expect to see much in the coming years. More destruction, perhaps, as always. But it is a necessary dissolution. The manifestation of cosmic cycles, the Yuga, the ricorso. Multilayered muds like sediment carrying us away, draining us and subsuming us, ossifying us and fossilizing us. It's over. And I don't know what will come after us. I am not you, so I cannot pretend to empathize with or understand you. You have your own island of experiences, you idiot, and your own social group. I have pointed observation of my surroundings and that's about it. We are not the same. Even after a yearlong process of companionship, I can still barely understand you because you have almost nothing in common with me and your creed is antithetical to mine. Don't get me wrong, I respect you. But I don't see a peaceful way to compromise here. Maybe when we both die we'll start seeing the shells around us disintegrate exposing that delicate inner core within us which that little children's rapture and the beamships that come down will be eager to salivate over, lick and drink, eat it up like an alien with no boundaries. But until that day comes, my worldview will remain separate from your worldview in duration and war in duration with you will be congruent to peace in duration with me. And I will fight for my life.
My sweetest regards.