meanwhile, back in the neurosophy lab

and then he wandered off into the luminous forest and was never heard from again





eht- context of the living branch
web of shadowy figures
trading identities
sending messages back in time
memories of the future


it was all made of wood
the living wood
grew into whatever was thought
each structural strut also contained conductors of twelve types
regulated its internal environment
clustered with sensors within and without
self repairing
self adjusting
autonomous and multiplexedly linked





aerodynamic enhancing cluster of sensors enhance my chance at the ball

tall guy with a toga

sunlight green room 1001091923
(verification: unknown)
(cannot be transcribed)

the stellar array orbit relative to the normal
and the Central Stellar Body is such that there are periods of darkness in the green room
the splicer ticks away
faint lights are visible through the dense foliage-
but not enough for me to orient towards a horizon
it seems for a moment that gravity is missing
but I still feel my weight

if I could express it another way, why would I not do so?

as light floods in, my eyes tingle with filaments and patterns
resolving into lush plant growth
the smell of sex is heavy in the air
pollen covers my hands
the splicer ticks away
it is amazing to me the rate at which viable mutations of many species are produced

I pull up the graph and notice something strange
it's the shapes of the data
it's almost as if there is another set of data in the data
something unrelated
something musical, whimsical
something watching me

to me it seems as if the periods of darkness are getting more frequent-
but not of greater duration
what is happening with the orbit?
my weight feels normal
the ticking remains a constant rhythm
I have no idea who (or what) set the current program

forgetting the mission that brought me here-
I study the patterns
I study the plants and the darkness and the sounds
there is so much new input that my scan is getting neglected

I heard the voice of the Magic Robot-
faint and distant
something small ran away through the undergrowth
I heard what sounded like a loud fart
it's dark now
everything stopped
even the ticking
again there is the impression of gravity being "turned off"
longer this time
my feet are where my head should be
focusing into the dark
thinking through the patterns
an anomalously long period


the light floods in
(brighter because my eyes have been desensitized?)
I'm seeing- things- everywhere
not things
not seeing things
things in between things unfold
filaments of super string ?
we're far away from deck 19-
this shouldn't be happening

an impression of music and voices
I can't tell which is vegetable and which is mineral

the antique helmet lay on the ground

its many knobby protrusions sprouting wires that wriggle and branch

I have a passing thought to put it on

and then a deep seated fear of what would happen if I did

and then an even deeper fear that I might put it on

would it become heavy heavy gold
long cooling fins drooping
burning my collar bones
red gold glinting
I am arisen
reborn as my own avatar

there are a number of tree trunks that seem to glow with golden braided snakes

and around the trunks, colored branches writhe

the single throbbing head the meristem apical a ball of white fire the house of light

jump to the link

in the noisy background fuzz a holographic image of all the images of us

we are all neurologists

fingers

remembering the layers,
we had to start shutting down the simulations
many of us couldn't remember what we were doing,
where we were going
the encounter with VolVoX spread retroactively,
altering files as it went
a series of of spherical wavefronts
the black sublingua arts
uttering the insect pictograms
invading the hyperreal,
by stripping the real
the time gets fuzzy


edges begin to crackle with filaments

I WANT EVERY NUT AND BOLT ON THIS SHIP EXAMINED MINUTELY UNTIL THIS EXTRA MASS IS ACCOUNTED FOR!

once we have regrown into ourselves,
we can then weave the tendrils of our former reality

at the end, it was Junk Thing that counterbalanced the advance of the VolVoX system,
(I am reminded of the way that Junk Thing battled the Zombies in an earlier era)

at the end, it was the fact that parts of the ship had reached near terminal C,
relative to other parts (that were still contiguous),
that accounted for the extra mass

at the end, no one knows if Junk Thing had sentience or,
if it did,
when that sentience originated
was it born from the zombibotified brain of an earth scientist,
or was it Bordo's moon child?

in the end, no one knows if anyone had managed to pierce all the simulated layers of Control

1nt0 the VolVoX sKi

1nt0 the VolVoX sKye



oldskull non-existant spherical void(s)
dial up the atmospheric viscosity
go through a trillion vortexes
agitated twisted convection cells
clamber down plasma webbery vinage
snaking licking
hissing infobukkake
a singular experience?
a very soft landing on the fuzzy planet
xEno, are we down yet?
the normal is not, anymore
split splintered glinted dissolved
an angular experience?
green bubble green bubbles
green bubble green bubbles
the billion worlds
the voices the voices
the green fullerized paradisos
the vision of the nugreeman
Finks and zomB's
fly and worm
collide and stream
into the jpeg foam
where the Kbots roam
ho, flo!
watch EBB!

was what i was

hey, did you catch that?
they want to kill us
they're trying to help
they gave us cheese
but it's not real, is it?
i don't know- did you eat it?
i'm not hungry now
what about what it says here?
here?
over here- this

this... thing
yes, a lot of this stuff is from Earth
i miss Earth, let's go down there
don't you remember? we left earth a long, long time ago
why?
we're on a mission- don't you remember?
huh- what mission?
i can't tell you
because you don't know?
i can't say- exactly- maybe it's this
this conversation?
this this
this this'll thistle

when the ball dropped (I really don't have time for this now!)

When VolVoX ate the sky
Ate our home
Ate our brains
Green Brain Glow
dripped down my chest
the tracing grew transparent
looked down saw my heart beating
beating in the Green Goo



They heard the Voices
Selling a Million Songs
Redirected-
we got one of those pettin' turtles out at the lake
sent to the wrong page again- it's like a low level virus

yea-

shit-

you've got to volunteer- you're not given a dime
sminjas i think are a much more credible threat than inFinks

disassemble-

there's something that you can actually use
and certainly more than Junk Thing- you just made that up!

I'm just going to cut up
so i saw this page
and there were sminjas on it

something bang it
something like black rubber
a hood with zippers on mouth and eyes

should we say that-

I think they were offering protection
pull up-

from the White Whiches
I don't know what to do
what should be included in this event?

this is liner and this is plastic

VolVox ate my homepage/string cells

it's not about that
we're gonna pull things with the skin of our teeth.

so far we have recovered only a small sampling of voices

and there is much contradiction between samples
this was a chaotic time period
a period of increasing chaotic complexity
interpreting time stamps is especially problematic
as various parts of the narrative were moving at different rates
some apparently even in reverse

we have, however, discovered the first known instance of the word VolVoX
although its pattern of capitalization is still a mystery
and its referent seems to have varied greatly
what were those beings experiencing?
because of the fragmentary nature of our subject
we are forced to create as much as we recover directly
in order to navigate in even a rudimentary fashion
through the portal that is now often referred to as "VolVoX"

Magnificent gold Art Deco helmet.2

He remembered thinking it through before. Not a complete run through, just a basic trace with a nod at the major intersections. The way he had come here. The decisions he made along the way. These were the things he was thinking about.

He was thinking about how he had interpreted the situation and how his response had been correct or incorrect according to how it affected the implementation of his plans.
There were plans; there were lots of plans.
There were contingency plans; there were plans of plans radiating to everything in sight.
He wondered how his actions could have been different- if, in the future, in a similar situation, he could do something even more effective towards that implementation.

He thought about his actions of the last half hour in the light of his basic strategy, which, at the moment, consisted mainly of an avoidance of pain and/or death. He reasoned that even without any conscious effort, there was always some sort of basic strategy, even if it was "run away from this fucking heat!"

He wondered what he could do to prevent the same kind of horrible events from occurring again, but he didn't seem to have possessed any control over these events while they were occurring.

He must get to the eyebrary and there was only one access point- in the Chasm.
How he was going to get down there he had no fucking idea.



Just then brilliant light flashed off the cooling fins of his magnificent gold Art Deco helmet, creating a jerking striped pattern that momentarily dominated the entire virtual cockpit.
It had begun again.

inFink attack!

i thought it was the inFinks again
i still remember the last time they boarded:

"Fuk the po-lice!"
"yeah, Fuk the poo- lice!"
were the words we heard.

i think some of us were inFinks once-
a lot of people have shielded those stories away from themselves-
the sometime result of rejuvenation treatments (some say) taken too far-
into the area of higher mental functions-
a drastic pruning-
resetting for freshness-
a dangerous state-
smart bitches, they tend to escape their cribZ-
or sometimes they're born right fucking here under our asses-
here-
wussa.

2 year old pirates-
run away-
run amok-
berserker babies with shit guns-
grab shit and go-
just havn fun-
urine trouble-
walls obscured-
how's your sidestroke?



sometimes they saw the Magic Robot and then
just kind of sat down around it and watched-
Bordo made it-
it fucking works-
it sings and it dances-
does tricks-
tells stories in- probably- all known languages-
ask him say the word shit in every one-
it's pretty fucking fascinating-
it got me.

not so straight into the heart of matter at hand

subtitled: "not the same, not the same"

i thought this one was deleted forever:

in the helmet, not that helmet- this is another one-
in the helmet was a constellation of sensors- probes-
the sKuad used it for game control-
monitors everything from Ntransmitter levels
and impulses down cellular
to all I/O's, several sets for each-
maps chaotically real time-
rhythmically models the mess and then you can choose any overlay(s) you can think of-
pretty cool (as they would say) for 21's.

the sKuad had clandestinely collected the pope's arrows
some say that they dosed the tips with zombie powder
and returned them to the quiver
it was meant to be funny- and illusory
ha ha

for the arrow to reach its proper target,
it had to be modulated to match the branching
but they used the branch's shadow
and the shadow was on some junk in the yard
(the yard was a conical space with its tip up toward the center-
amid east and west-
sort of junkyard/ garden/ park/ shop/ playground-
also the largest open space in the normal-
not the same yard as in the legend)
and everything got twisted-
spirally waved-

and what was dead walked again.

brain rotation (eVol Vox)

-the way to create a graduated control for apophenic sensitivity is to have some of your brains be rather unstable, but able to survive for at least a typical or near typical span-

-see, you just pour some more chaos in here- let that go, will you? they're both correct. they're just spreading now, see-?

-ZOMBIES! GET DOWN! I'm looking, shh- they're all moving in one direction- over there- FUCK! they're FORMING A LINE!

-"It's like casting a net and capturing as many neurons as possible at any one time," he says-

-now i can no longer tell where the voices are coming from. all of them used to have specific functions. the washing machine now tells me stories about my fictitious childhood and a voice inside my spleen sounds like plia singing- i know she doesn't sing-

-let's meet in the lounge, you can hear it in there, but not the wet end- it's too noisy-

-I think it's a natural consequence of living in space with a bunch of freaks- not you- but you noticed how our mission was so much clearer in the beginning? well, at least my beginning- the Funky Pope says that we don't have a mission, but he's full of shit, anyway-

-I don't believe in VolVoX-

-Planet? What Planet? That's imposs- -

-oh. oh. oh. oh. oh. oh. oh- it's just me-

-I am going to assume command. Gris. pAla. SnelF. Initiate ignition sequence. We are going to make a burn. Sound the alarm.

-it was at that moment that the world ended- not the worst world ending of all time, but pretty bad, anyway-

-i can't tell where that is. what are we looking at? those are zombies? oh, yeah, i guess you're right- do, i mean did, we know them?-

that room

it's like i can see everything
no, it's like i can hear everything
bleedthrough
palimpsest
pareidolic amping-interface
stochastic resonance



i hear-
the hive
the hive mind
or the pod
a pod
you have to get out of the web
the memeplex
get out of it to get into it (ha ha)
you can see the stars from in there
you can party with them

only when i'm in there
the limited physical access
the dead zone
inFink access
hatch 235
that chemical trail
i dream that i'm a molecule riding the twist lock
folding my body to match the machines
attracted by my opposite
in the conduit
down bolted down doors
through the small freight medusa

it's actually a brain
a brain
not a heart
a human brain in a cooler
aluminum champagne cooler
and they were termites
not ants
swimming in glycoprotien

there are contradictions
speaking of antifreeze
i know about the people on Mars
not us
the others
underground
at the bottom of the sea
outside the vent
but connected by cable
just outside the fracture zone
but it doesn't matter
you dig them
the contradictions (ha)
watch out archer!
the helmet blinds you
raise them up
see you in hell

CRAWG

AW, DON'T LISTEN TO THEM, CRAWG

Greg

CROMAG, CRAWG, KEGGER, DON'T MAKE NO DIFFERNCE

Greg- but doesn't anyone know what's going on?

SURE- MOSTLY A LOT MORE THAN YOU DO- RIGHT, KRAKKEN? (PUNCH)

(WTF?) don't call me that- that thing is fucking disgusting. really, what the fuck is going on?

EASY THERE, LITTLE BUDDY, YOU GOT SOME BAD DREAMS?

no.

KRAKKEN?

oh, no, that was that thing in the hold that Padre showed me.

WE HAVE 17 HOLDS. WHO IS PADRE?

Pedro. Pepper... tall guy with a toga.

LISTEN YA LITTLE SQUIRT, TIMES CHANGE, SEE? YOU CAN'T NOT EXPECT TO JUST JUMP RIGHT IN AND UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING AT ONCE. ESPECIALLY NOT WHEN WE'RE DEALING WITH THIS, UH, UH... CHRONOLOGY VIRUS... THING.
ANYWAY, I'M PRETTY SURE THAT KRAKKEN THING WAS JUST TUBIFEX.

tubifex?

GOTTA GO NOW. REMEMBER: ONLY BELIEVE WHAT YOU CAN DO.

but...

I couldn't tell what was going on

I couldn't tell what was going on. I was looking at a forest. I couldn't feel my body. I couldn't move.



I tried to enhAnce it, but it dropped out. I used TulZ and broke all their rulz. Then it faded. Then I couldn't get it. I fiddled with the side rinse. Then it was back, but a different part. It was totally different. A part of me said that it was the same thing that I was looking at before. I didn't really believe that most of the time. I felt refreshed, excited. I watched a little play- like in a theater. There really wasn't a theater. I remember their voices. Sometimes they sounded... natural, like just... me, or a part of me.



I can't tell you what they said, not because I can't remember, but because it won't make sense. It won't make sense to you and it won't make sense for me to say it- when I say it.

-glow

excerpt from a future post

This close to the fuzzisphere
the past is constantly changing.
It is like the infofuzz has become so dense that we can change the past as easily as changing our clothes, our skins, our avatars.
It is like that, but it is not.
Can information flow to the past from the future?
Can we send a message to our former selves?
Of course, in this new branch, all our memories would be altered as well.
The closer to VolVoX that we get,
the greater becomes the current,
and the more powerful becomes the magnetic field.

It can interfere with your brain.

i can feel them-
tiny robots in my head-
you're not supposed to feel them-
but god i feel them

no matter what he says, it's wrong

something is in the subway

what if there's no consensus?

Only I know the true nature of our mission.
Only I know the real danger that we are in.

we're not going anywhere

WE WILL PROTECT YOU FROM HARM

listen to this! listen to this!

BEWARE THE NINJAFISH
BEWARE THE ORB

everything is Volvox

how could they hack into our system?

are we sure it's a "they"?

is it intelligent?

what do you mean by that? inFinks are intelligent.

can't be them. we'd be swimming in poo.

could it be one of us- someone very advanced?

and artistic.

what do you mean?

it's... creative.

it's insane.

i know.

i mean, how do i even know you are you?

how do YOU know it's NOT you?

it's me?

it's in you. it's your system.

everything ties together. in so many ways.

a lot of detail.

fuck you.

and you.



but how could they hack into our system?

are you kidding? we still don't know where the extra mass is coming from.

nanobots?

hey- i saw something- right at the beginning.

what did it look like?

black on black.

the glitch?

the hole. round. a sphere. many spheres. a bunch of grapes- sort of. composed of missing stars.

like a volvox.

ha. got it. yeah, kind of. the planet Volvox.

RWE Volvox.

are we not normal?

i think it's inFinks.

their stealth ain't nearly this good.

ETI's.

computer malfunction. insane magic robot.

not HAL.

death.

the simulation has ended.

which one?

which one you wanna give me?

are you still playing the game?

are you?

are you really asking that?

asking what?

yeah... which leaves insanity.

or dimensional creep.

i'm not that fat.

BigBigScience. time warp.

i wouldn't put it past them.

an accident?

Junk Thing.

what's that?

that thing that Bordo talks to.

makes about as much sense as anything else.

ghosts, elves, munchkins.

god gods angels demons sprites

you're the only one i can talk to about this.

gotta go check out that yelling. fuck you.

you too.
?

the legend of the junk thing (v 1.1)

the universe room rests on the tallest of the seven pinnacles of RWE normal.

-ancient layered metal porcelain foam bubble sheathed in stinky black latertex-
pocked with portholes and wormy with tubing-
finished inside with deep triangular tufted blue velvet and gold buttons-
they say as they say it's haunted-
you'd go bugfuck after 2 hours-
3 meters in diameter-
something touched my foot.

it dates back at least 14 owners ago-
we were famous, once-
and we were called something else.

everything else kept getting away from it-
pouring away in space and time-
leaving a spire- instrument vined-
the blossoms block out the stars-
mainly just reflections off the sensor underclusters-
why even go there?

it's a dead zone
must be in a plasma burble
EM leaky snakes
gotta check it out
InFinks'll get in there


3-way stretch of the Volvox time fabric

he was in there when it happened-
when it ALL happened he says-
no matter what our clocks say-
but we're not talking years, either-
let's work together on this-
he says he didn't hear the voices-
he keeps that junk thing in there with him-
he probably talks to that-
probably hit him on the head-
no one really missed him much-
thought he took off-
he HAD to-


he told me about it

junk thing came from earth
junk thing came from a dump
junk thing can speak
it's only a speaker box
that's all that's left after what went down
but that's enough
junk thing had a heart
a human heart...
in a champagne cooler
brain is an ant colony
in Orange SmartSoil
junk thing is 100% recycled
junk thing is 82% plastic
junk thing is quasi-organic
extremophilic microbes live inside it
harvesting the heat from a cesium pit
struck by lightning
haunted by self-assembling memes
touched by the hand
like an eyeball shitting in the woods
smart phones
smart cards
smart pots
smart shirts
in a washing machine
pulls antifreeze, sulpher, hydrogen and blood from the rain
spiders in bondage weave its nerves
bids the dogs and gulls to do things for it
they bring cameras, smoke detectors, eggshells and matches
it smokes and creaks
(it's just junk creep)
junk thing has no particular sex
junk thing loves sex
junk thing thought about sex all the time
junk thing didn't know what sex was
junk thing just wanted to love everyone and everything
junk thing confused coition with consumption
and excretion
junk thing used everything and gave gifts to everyone
it makes origami from aluminum and sandpaper
the stuff it shits
sculpts the earth
with its vibratory feeders
from the main rear nozzle
makes its own architecture
it's got libraries made of sand
there are parts of it all over now
it vents and sucks
it clicks and tickles
buzzes and pops
softly
softly
seething
seeing wrongs that must be righted
a force for good
a force for the downtrodded
the damaged
the damned...

don't miss the next installment of the legend of the junk thing- "junk thing knocks over the worlds largest gene bank"- coming soon to a retina near you

FOP stood leaning on a distant tree

the false old pope wearily closed his eyes-
his longbow nooking between bark and skin-
sweat flowing into the interstices-
fingers slackly resting on the grip...

opened a bit, then closed-
blood flow concentric waves of color washed across his darkness-
a tickling parade of frequencies that soothed...

then a quick series of pulses in intensity-
(the fibers of the carpet rustled)-
head still; the skin slitted equatorially; the orbs rotated 23 degrees to his left-
at the edge of his high res sight a glinting gold thing...

i don't know where everyone is exactly-
i can feel them in this space-
or maybe just in the next room over-
the dust mites whisper...

while some dendrites were pruned, others were growing...

he relaxed into a rhythm-
and studied the others...

something about a sweet spot-
I don't know what she was referring to-
void upon void-
a hole in the noise for a space-
plia spends too much time in the eyebrary-
pink carpet syndrome-
but I can't ignore the possibility that this could have something to do with the attack or whatever it was...


the fart slitting smiled and spoke:



i'm in the eye
i can see everything here
full immersion
you don't know what you're missing
you're taking this way too seriously
showing pink noise
do you know what you JUST said?
christ i didn't fucking kill him
read my BITCH
can i have that?

who is playing that guitar?
IS that a guitar?

...branches of constantly streaming data...

-voices of the chaotic humming of a well-worn ventilation fan-
answered by the well-phrased ticking of large metal structures thermally squirming-
the hiss and rumble of a loud rock band coming from a very distant room-
small animals and even plants scurry and flit and sit and speak and squawk-
mostly pets, presumably-
some might even be real-
and there are always conversations between crew-
just at the limit of audibility-
archaic artifacts bleeping and clicking-
radiations of all frequencies sizzle-
converted into sight and sound and touch-
a twenty-second century virtual cockpit-
virtual space ship?-
I can zoom in anywhere-
to any branch of data i choose-
follow the curves-
life is different after the End of Science-
i keep reminding the Cromag-
just the whole nature of reality has changed since the discovery of RUP-
Raw Universal Power-
i can listen to the paint drying in the lounge (a seven year project)-
and it all makes sense-
really-



-Bordo has been obsessively trying to prove the existence of an out there-
beyond the skin we share-
beyond the experience that is Bordo?-
I never tire of his reports-
-each of us does what we want-
sometimes it's a bit confusing during a crisis-
each of us believing in sometimes vastly diverging interpretations of the data-
each of us is quite insane-
we all live in our own modable fantasy worlds-
each of us can be lethally competent-
each of us, to the exclusion of the others, knows the true nature of our mission-

it looks like a big snail-
and a ball-
and a fairground wrapped around a very small planet-
I filter the voices for words that I recognize-
sometimes they call your name-
speaking of the radio-
there was a seizure-
i would experience such joy as would be inconceivable in ordinary life-
such joy that no one else could have any notion of-
i would feel the most complete harmony in myself and in the whole world-
and this feeling was so strong and sweet that for a few seconds of such bliss I would give ten or more years of my life-
even my whole life perhaps-
I've come to tell you about a spot in the sound-
a round spot in the sound---

during this re-evaluation period, we request your input

BLOGOCOEL is currently undergoing re-evaluation. It is possible that during this time some staff members may be let go, and/or new ones acquired. This may also include new leadership, management, production team, and/or associates. Many feel that this crisis was a direct result of the publication of the previous unfortunate post, which induced a positively horrifying feedback loop (I still can't hear a thing).

So, in order to serve you better, and to prevent any similar incidents in the future, BLOGOCOEL is taking an informal poll. Simply leave your comments- anonymously if you wish- click on "COMMENTS" at the bottom of this post (or click on the title of this post) and leave a comment.

Should we stop the blog? ...have more advertising? ...more cartoons? ...less WTF?























...more stupider, ...moar intellagent? ...more ugly shit, or only girls with big butts?

Really we probably won't do anything.

Just kidding, this is a REAL CRISIS!! Your imput will decide the fate of all UmanKind.

on the pour

spring out by the old missile silo
and the sweepers and painters
and yard eyes are
wearing hardhats
and singing
and drinking a bit

the biggest one ever



get in on the pour

eyes swivel...
more eyes swivel;
heads turn

the web increases in density

get in on the pour

they'll be pouring soon-
you want to get in on it?

liquid magic
becomes solid
within moments
a jar is born

wake me up if I get too sleepy
don't want to miss it
the biggest ever
the whole world repurposed

into everything
everything goes

eyes swivel
what was here
will now be there
and there



the quantum goes macro



get in on

row yer own damn boat

(if this makes any sense to you,
perhaps you shouldn't not not have read this):)



I dreamt-
thinking that I was awake.
For a long time I thought that I was in a waking state.
Eyes half-cracked;
just one look
is all it took-
hallucinate the rest.
I just hum along.

I stopped to listen and
I wondered who the "others" were,
there in my dream
(and why they were so insistent upon telling me things
that were so resistant to implementation.

-and then I dreamed I was in a dream that never ended-
Madam H K dreaming of Kansas tornadoes-
all this talk/crosstalk/shadowtalk.

I wondered how they were able to install the cameras
without my knowledge;
how they were able to tune my brain activity,
reeling me into the Web.
I noticed that I had been seeing a lot of squirrels lately.
(stop looking at me funny!)
-but I realized that I had made myself paranoid
(but that didn't really change the current practical situation much,
except to provide a certain wry smile).

I wondered how long ago I had died
and why it was that I could not remember living.
I resisted the impulse to board the train-
(always good advice in any afterlife situation).

I thought that I must be getting ready to die soon-
I could feel a growing glowing acceptance of things done and undone;
a loving embrace of the dark mother.

I began to suspect that my entire biological pattern had been uploaded
into this strange simulation
whose physical laws could be altered at a whim.
I found myself looking for cracks;
unfinished random bits of code
lying in between things.

I calculated my odds of survival based upon purely aesthetic principles...

I realized that I could not remember when I had taken the drug-
had it been years?- or was this something similar to dream compression-
where the mental activity of a split second seems to fill an endless afternoon.
I seem to remember dropping around 1653?
(start spreading the news... the limbic's up and the batteries are down.)
Depth Charge!!

Last night I had a dream.


I slept like an alien baby.

image- some assembly required

inside and outside

in as few words as possible

just one fucking jungle

next scale,

please

jump

and jumpee.

The Filter Ring

nano nano
fellow beings.

what happens to you
your whole life long
happens here
thousands of times
every second.

walking in the woods

I was walking in the woods.
I neither heard nor saw trees falling or bears shitting.
I did, however, find a watch.
"God!" I thought,
"It's a vintage Swatch!
Must be worth something."
The design looked like a funky eyeball,
very creative.
"Who comes up with this shit?" I thought.

Surely not bears.
Maybe a bear God:
knocking over trees
in absolute silence;
depositing watches in the paths of postulating wankers;
Athena-like granting Darwin serendipitous skies.

Maybe just a leak in the simulation;
a gap in the circuitry
(which is like a)
a broad cloak that, once stretched impossibly to cover this lumpy homunculus,
grants its wearer invisibility

(like a knife with no handle that is so sharp that it cuts user and used and drops straight out of sight).

on the interpretation of dreams

some people make a big deal about the difference between dreams and waking reality-
or about the difference between hallucinations and the way things really are.

All outlines are slightly fuzzy, and in that thin fuzz, like fractal bacterial colonies, reality is drawn again and again, sprouting in a time line that runs at right angles to our familiar waking dreaming time.

Somewhere between astrophysics and the impossible

The numinous is everywhere.

numen, in ancient Roman religion, divine power, a god; the word is derived from nuğrğ ‘to nod’
(a god is thought to nod to indicate his will).

The thing about gods is that they either speak in nods, or in everyday ordinary language that could easily be interpreted as rather mundane ramblings about, say, the price of cheese.

Perhaps some things are just too dangerous to say; after all we don't want to ruin the simulation by introducing too many outside variables.

How did you get here? How did you find your way through the land of flatness, where things make sense and everything is sketchy? Or did you take a photograph and leave yourself in the memory card? Soon, soon, I hear the hard drive spinning.

a delicate operation

a nano-flamingobot carefully places a transceiver near a brane junction

it uses a three angstrom black hole as a power source

the transceivers use Nekbown ATP batteries

this Real Enhancement was visualized in a particularly intelligent patch of New Jersey SmartSoil

this program will expand cross-dimensional bandwidth for memory transfer and SilliParti Messaging, available free to all members of the Blogocoel

Activation will be immediate, and no further sign-in will be necessary

at no time will service be down, but you may experience a brief rhythmic retinal flickering.
This is normal and should not interfere with SilliParti Messaging or any other current apples

To access expanded zones, simply "think of London" as usual

thanks, the MiGiT

who told you that, anyway?

yes there are dragons
and they are moody
sons of bitches.

what is the point
of speaking about them
until you are breathing dragon fire
and drinking dragon juice?

(show me the money)

god is everywhere.
there is a tiny pot of gold at the end of every tiny rainbow;
billions of them packed into every single speck;
ghosts and eti's in every eddy;
the voices of the billions in the surf.

all is permissible.
the expedient is now.
the singularity is here.

no expectations

The particular wiring of the human brain
and the particular wiring of each individual's brain
dictates the nature of our experience.
The words used to describe our experience reinforce particular modes of experience;
its coding and translation.
In order to see anything that has never been seen before
(such as the millions of ETI's that should be out there (ATHWIDE*),
it may be necessary to do some rewiring.

The line between hardware and software is somewhat blurry
in the wetware that is our brain/mind.
Fortunately, the brain rewires itself in response to changes in behavior.

Our sense of physical reality seems so unassailable,
even though it is a consensual and convenient fiction
(until a shock shakes the frame,
like a severe illness or a major victory,
or as a result of taking certain drugs).

In order to "lower your expectations" of reality
(and see what has never been seen before),
provide (emotional) motivation.

Start by lowering your expectations**
of people around you (especially loved ones.)
All strife with others that is felt is a result of inappropriate expectations.
If you succeed in having no expectations,
the sense of joy and freedom is so great that you feel
(rightly so) as if anything were possible...


* According To How We Interpret the Drake Equation.


** "lowering your expectations"
does not mean that you can't provide motivation to others
(or to yourself) !
from time to time.

robot love

you got to love a single mind
one neuron 5499 Ninety-Seventh Place brings you tea and sighs see the Unisphere on the roof blogs for you live a life in the time it takes to decide, coding, decoding ratcheting, folding, coiling, uncoiling pumping ions (for her pleasure) sexy robot trilayer membrane ooh so permeable ooh so smart and spiky her sister too her brothers pounding on the walls the whole city shaking like jelly beans bouncing brownian bees tell me there's a plan at least a passing ideal each moment manufactured painstakingly lovingly turned out now
look inside
"it's full of sexy robots"
a fresher larger now?
she says
"it's good to talk to a sane person for a change..."

later, elsewhere in the stalk...

For those who ever asked "where does this hose go?"
or "why is my car green?"
or even "who is the man behind the man behind the man?"
or "que?"

my life in a stalk

Re: I don't know what to say after such a long axis: V'ger Loop

This just sent in by one of our regular viewers (who chose to remain hieronymous):
It's called "V'ger Loop" and I regard it as the perfect exegesis to my earlier post.
Check this post later for extra genesis to the exegesis.



In case you can't read all the text, it says: "NASA" and "V" and "beep beep beep beep" and "beep beep beep beep beep beep" and "V" and "beep beep beep beep beep beep" and "beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep"

subject to this and that

"Although we have the illusion of receiving high-resolution images from our eyes, what the optic nerve actually sends to the brain is just outlines and clues about points of interest in our visual field. We then essentially hallucinate the world from cortical memories that interpret a series of extremely low-resolution movies that arrive in parallel channels." -Ray Kurzweil The Singularity is Near p. 186

I was wondering about the kinds of geometries that our brain's architecture allows us to see and whether today's forteana might be tomorrow's everyday ordinary shit.

(and also how the cerebellum's architecture allows us to do what we do.)

plastic brains are now available.

I don't know what to say after such a long axis

talk about yourself

okay

kiss me

I thing I was thinging about (in the shower (la!)) was how viewing things from various scales revealed similar fractal motifs. From the nucleus of the biological cell to the most isolated outposts (I guess that would be Voyager 1) of the Local Global Information Net (LGCN).  The process of thinging about things on an individual human level is like the information flow inside of a single cell, from signals received by receptors floating in the membrane to DNA being unzipped, read, and transcribed, to the production of specific protiens.  The global politics of information flow and restriction including commerce, warfare, and ideological evolution is akin to a single human mind is like a single animal cell is a rose (onion).  

So, did you ever have a dream that you were someone else?

Are you living in a Fractal Fairy Tale?

Love is a gush of information.

V'Ger is coming back bald ass.

(click on the drawing for a better view.)

motivations

hostility/fear
sex/LOVE
to upload your mind
you need to provide
emotional fertilizer


p.s.
I'd like to thank everyone,
not just Podmembers,
for making this planet
so fucking great.
There will be no nerve cell left behind.
Reversible computing
will allow you to travel for free-
delete delete beep beep yeah.

Re: tiny cameras are everywhere

THEY know everything.
GOD is watching you.
A giant FUCKING EYE sits atop the pyramid.
Yo me a buck.

Every tree that has ever fallen
Into a black hole
Has re-emerged at someone's dinner table
In the form of a Cone
Like one bear shitting,
Sounds like.

Suddenly Last Summer...
The eyes! On the beach!
Paranoia is only the failure
to convince others of your adroitness.

The Saga of Bogusoma (1990)

A mutant megavirus
Of no certain origin;
The beginning and end of
Everything you know.
Not merely a metaphor,
A molecular ninja
Rampantly running
Your verbal genetic machine;
Injected river of infection runs over your topsy turvy head.
Forget the sub, conscious,
Reach way up,
You can just about feel the water.

A flexibly multi-temporal
Secret assassin
Under no known orders-
A sleek killer sex machine
Invisible to all but the naked I
And whose sense of self
Can stand so cold stone nude
Hard-on apparent
In front of so many
Doctors and lawyers,
Teachers and critics.

Legions stand before the mirror each morning
And miss this opportunity.
Come right out and say it:
"Hey, bud, you got a license for that reality?"

Just fakin' it.

I suggest using a harsh chemical stripper.
Pour it on full strength, no g-string attached,
'Twill give no unpleasant aftertaste
And will leave your spiral catwalk to the stars;
Your deoxyribonucleics;
Shiny and free of undue
Magnetic attractions
To such cumbersome problems
(I mean proteins)
As "the truth."

A funny nose and glasses suit
Covers the body,
Nay, the entire multiverse-
BOGUSOMA,
In all its quirky contradictoryness,
Simultaneously eats, shits,
Creates and destroys
Everything
(you know that's right)
And everything that is
Of course
(Seriously)
WRONG.

Right in between
Is a crack
Along the cranium.

BOGUSOMA calls out
To astronomers everywhere
Whose cerebral slits remain
As yet not completely overpaved.
Your instrument is fine.
WD40BOGUSOMA
For de svivel of de svpherical.

Moped rocket fuel;
No way to tell you;
Listen like a mofo;
There is a bright starry trickle;
Jump in the gene pool and SWIM.