The Barsoom Paradox

A revolution in quarters by the minds of an eye in the darkness
Four noses in the corners and staring at each alone
Another day of noble wolves tearing at the same bone
Forgetting that many sheep along the river starves none

Calling many to prepare to fight alone and stare at a tomb
Nomads in the wasteland carrying whips of their time
Carving with sharp tongues forgotten tales of dune lines
Newest basin flooding daily with misguided hearts and minds

Creating mercy for no other in the place of all lost time
By the seas lined with bones and shores of thrown stones
Could pissers be outnumbered or the bricks be undertow
But we never will remember if we've all been hanged for show

Giving misery outnumbers children and their hopes of home
Where the lack of war is plenty and the magnitude is peace
Greatest is the love of wisdom where there isn't strife or grief
Why the eyes of sleep are open with the reaper and the thief

Sixy (Soul Embraced)

Sixy (Soul Embraced)
m.j.banks

What I've been doing is going to a title generator site and getting six random titles, then using them as chapters of a short story, making a draft, giving it a title myself, then abandoning it in my drafts folder. Typically I let the story replicate the titles' implications and write it start to finish, some adjustments. Let's do that.

Give me some titles..... wow, okay...

1 Sharp Dreams, 2 The Laffing Memory, 3 Stream of Sword, 4 The Time's Voyage, 5 The Stones of the Flying, 6 Sword in the Dreams

Some regret for committing to this, but whatever. It did print "laughing," no need to spell it with the wrong letters. The goal is be germane and on second draft make each chapter a page, long enuf to read, short enuf to finish. I'm going to make it extra short and then sleep.

Q music.

1 Sharp Dreams

Man walks in field, but it's a dream, wakes during attack, but their numbers are too small, spy makes it into his tent, stabs with a magic blade that puts him into a coma, a nightmare to him, his first battle and none of his experience, or armor, more difficult than memory,

2 The Laffing Memory

With the awake, the invaders attack, but only the outskirts and only to irritate, attrition, psychological, sending requests for impossible demands, coupled with the coma of the man, they are depressed, the coma-assassin comes back with the poisoned knife and the blood on it, giving it to a warlock, aftereffect of magic done on the nightmare blade, yes I fit this into a ton of my stories, not so much the star this time, a moment for the affect and glow of the evil foe

3 Stream of the Sword

Warlock takes the nightmare blade, drops the blood onto his sword on tented altar, short like a footstool, itself curved in a shinto-like fashion, let's just go with samurai warlock and likewise ceremony, attire, colors, red and black only, clothing, tactical, the blade glows a hue and color that fires can have, his complexion darkens away from light, radiating only the energy weapon, not a fire/light saber, just a vibration or energy signature, blue steel*, the assassin sees in its reflection the room slide from right to left, but the warlock sees no reflection, but a window into the soul of the man in a coma, and for whatever reason, stabs the assassin in the chest, while the warlock kneels over the dead assassin, his eyes burn with the same fire as prior, yet in the dream world, the warlock manifests astral (projection) w the assassin's body

4 The Time's Voyage

Warlock gets to see a time before the countryside was different, ravaged less, brighter more, still the ongoing conflict, still a spy, can see the coma dude's side, but not his own, because the memory of the comatose, learning the terrain of their encampment, finding people dressing as spy's against the warlock's side, sees someone rush into the scene, hears them tell about their enemy has found a warlock to their side, a nod to himself, a vision of the next chapter, approach the younger coma dude, but coma dude starts into fear and chaos, starts to recognize the assassin, launches into a fight with the warlock in assassin skin, but it's a dream, and yet the assassin's soul carries the nightmare blade, coma dude in the real world is part physicality and all stress asleep, so in the dreamworld he's sortof fading, insight being that weak tether to the dreamworld makes the dreamer's ability stronger, idk, and wrests the nightmare blade from the foe/villain, stabs him and the blade's magic shows a light, extremely overwhelming to the dream dimension, everyone is thrown from the dreamworld, the warlock opens his black blood eyes, turns the blade into the assassin's body to end him, agony, certainty's gaze

5 Stones of the Flying

maybe it's, ok right, the warlock goes on warpath, the stones are explosive and send people flying or he throws stones that go 'flying thru the air' and when they land, the stones swallow the souls of opponents, how many of those does he have, he knows is way thru, maybe stones help people fly and there's an aerial battle, final fantasy fanfix way, or the longest to write, dragons controlled by stones, or people controlled with stones against their will, with a backstory on controlling power anchored earlier, not important, but he knows the layout and where the secret lair is and heads right for their leader, woke coma guy ha

6 Sword in the Dreams

speaking of backplants, he sees the warlock and recognizes him, guy gets the upperhand against the warlock, but the warlock traps him, the guy snatches the nightmare blade, in his hand it's bright and blinding to stare-at, warlock starts losing, tries to leave, the stones work against him when guy has the knife, tons of interstitial dialogue i imagine to what extent im not really sure, the blade draws blood, the warlock's wounds bleed black, but each stab shines with bright darkness as the warlock screams the coma guy can read the warlock's mind, a vision cascade of who hired the warlock, to surprise its someone he trust, and that there are spies within, all sorts of bad news, the warlock dies with cut throat with quick delivery, the coma doesn't waste time, he's got enemies w/in ukno, is there a twist, hell yes there's a twist, the assassin that the warlock had killed, groans and moans, struggles to reach into the muddy tent earth, ahead of himself pulls himself toward the warlock's sword, struggling toward the low altar of the blade, toppling it cuts his fingers around it, the assassins eyes grow black, the blade glows the same color, the assassin starts to stand, and drinks the same specific mixture of tea the warlock had drank, two of this, three of that, one of these, stir counter-clockwise


/////////

I've 16 of these now, oh right the title. Thinks. Open to suggestions. Looks at phone.

'Soul Embraced'

Thanks for reading.

m.j.banks

Graffiti Complex

[This took an... hour to write... must press... publish... button...]
m.j.banks

So there's this bullshit called "net neutrality" and I've already written about it and okay so whatever call it that eventho it's not a network and isn't neutral, you're doing something, trees do something, I'm not mad at trees, I'm not mad at you.

However.

For years there's a saying "in capitalism bread waits for you to buy it, in socialism, you wait to buy bread, and there's no fucking bread, because nobody's making any bread because a law that says there should be magical bread doesn't actually make any" I think is the actual quote, or it is now. This is #literally, the #actual problem in Venezuela, in your world.

There's this idea going around that capitalism somehow also means monopoly and I don't fear that because there are mobs of angry idiots that have gathered and collected a monopoly government of their own, and sometimes there are protesters now that you mention it, and the hypocrisy waits like a loaded gun, but let's put another metaphorical bullet in it.

If you live in a country without guns, you don't live in a country without guns, btw.

Thereof, those groups of people represent a free and open internet citizenship, whose use of a private company's services are the verifiable capitalism unadulterated, you adulterers of innocence itself, the very same allowing me to blog this, which is a society that protects collective bargaining, and in a truly free and open internet, the way an employee union can cripple a company from within, the people can change how the internet is delivered.

I'm not familiar with how unfair the internet is in your minds, the prevalence of any protest is for surplus of presumed accessibility, more of what's hidden, and yet nobody complains about the actual speed of the network, which can be improved by quality of hardware, funded by a capitalist society, (sorry, Cuba, you still kinda suck) by means of profit margins, and even in the island dungeon near Florida, they've censorship, not in anyway neutrality, where if i'm making the case for a utopia they perpetually destroy by not understanding the mathematical ADDITION principle, they allow growth.

I assume they think Usa is a place with technology stolen from crashed extraterrestrial time travelers of the future. Fuck you, Cuba, get a clue.

The response will be to find a theoretical hole, and jump thru it, but I can tell you this: The internet is not a technological singularity where a technocrat in a mid-level bureaucratically-funded gov't job can will away problems that don't exist. As much as you want to run that simulation again in your head, it's a waste of energy without all the variables. You can be prepared to be upset about everything, you still won't have spent a few hours at two in the morning writing a blog about net neutrality.

I've even gone as far as propose that communism, doesn't even exist. I could ask - by the way, anything existing is preposterous - you if it does or if you've ever seen it. You hear about it all the time, you talk about it, others talk about it, you've read about it, you can research it, you can even practice it, but maybe you haven't.

There mightn't be any way to know.

If a taxable (vomit) product is bad, it fails as a product, or someone improves it, but the company has to provide quality or suffer consequences. Capitalism is the largest risk pool in healthcare, but people stopped looking at the bill and started looking at the bullshit. That collective of negotiators is only 'once-removed' by representative gov't, but can negotiate nevertheless.

Circle peg, three dimensional cube in theoretical space.

Not getting the results your apolitical bias prefers is a matter of switching search engines and/or their algorithms bypassing the filters designed to see queries, AND, their answers passing over ISP lines to see if they were fair, with "fair" being defined by a) a human, b) infinitesimal lexical combinations, and c) temporary societal norms not relegated to amalgamate political climate but somehow defined despite that, opinions change.

The larger boundary is also weird, because of complexity, censorship countries rely on keyword filtering, to remove bad content, to push political misnomers, etc, all made possible by the - wait for it - .... free and open internet, so that if you're going to shitpost, the internet wraiths can find it and devour your soul. (Halloween was last week or something.)

Universal basic income, more basic than universal, you're still going to need physical blockchain counterparts, if not merely the ledger for every grain of sand - that's a long story - anyway it's a perfect model for industrialization for those of you that don't understand capitalism, the shifting solution of another world halfway behind us, a third world in shouting distance, while half of the new world doesn't watch tv on any given night of the week, and capitalism works so well we didn't even have to adopt the metric system, ratio 1:all, you know, the system the rest of the planet uses even on those islands nobody goes to and the inhabitants are one family for generations, my metaphor of earth.

By the time blockchain is taught in grade (primary) school, we'll be two planets. Content filtering doesn't increase customer appreciation, your games and shows still stream, your websites still load, a neutral intersection is empty or jammed, premium services can be better or ultimately are abandoned, there are show about it called 'remember the last decade' and nobody remembers them, one day Cuba is going to be a Usa state, and nobody is going to remember when it wasn't. Toll roads are paved, bank parking lots are smooth, if you want a gov't run internet, go to your computer and log into one, oh wait, you can't, there's only the private sector lines.

Gov't does it's job, or it doesn't, and i just realized the entire thing might be a red herring and I've prolly spent 20 minutes writing a piece of shit.

Well fuckety doodah, aren't I a witch's tit. Let's look at quotes for a while and publish this.

From people who preach socialism but don't allow it, neutrality by getting in your way. Okay, let's find a good quote. Maybe something about cookies, people love cookies.

And why do ppl think socialism develops the soul? Is not the case for morality possibility of risk and not the promise of safety?

It's a political ecosystem, don't be a parasite. Punishment teaches subservience, not the ethical output of cooperative survival. That's some sort of emotionless recidivism.

“To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

-

Merlin 3.65 Sweven and Hearth

Merlin 3.65 Sweven and Hearth

Ana falls asleep from any combination of fear, pain, exhaustion, and distress.

In her dream she forgets all that has happened, and sits upon a blanket in a field in sweltering heat of summer, and as a fire witch enjoys the sunlight with a smile, a snake slithers by into the grass, she looks at a cloud that giver her fear because it brings darkness across the land, in thunder and lightning there is no breeze, hundreds of ravens awake and fly from trees until the lightning is hidden, the thunder dies and lightning strikes a fire into the grasslands, startled by the sound she grasps her stomach, confused but not scared, the fire sprites and wisps accompany her to a warm breeze that carries her to safety, and encircles her to protect her from damage, she bathes in the flames of the burning cyclone amongst raging burning pastures, the cold air nearly pouring from above, she fears burning and a moment later the world is ash, her connection lost, her magic telling her senses there is nothing left to burn, screaming at the burnt world her voice does not sound, roses grow from the ash unearthing countless stones covered in runes and the fertile earth, the wind blows and she knows what candles fear, she convinces herself again and again that water will come for the roses and she mustn’t fear it, time stands still and she with it and must ponder the sensation of eternity, then in darkness sees herself out of body on the world below herself, in the abyss the stars begin perforating the darkness, the stars explode to blinding light, and she opens her eyes.

She is awake, and is about to give birth.  

M3.64 Traces of Supremacy

Merlin 3.64 Traces of Supremacy

The black magic witch Ostara, returns to the caverns to serve Sino once again, sees Lilith and remembers how effortlessly she was thrown into the canyon river at the bridge of the Vermillion vampire fortress, and decides to hide and find another way into Sino’s fortress.

Lilith walks by the dead and with her demonic magic she awakens them, wounded they rise and kneel. Ostara uses a quick cursing spell to turn Lilith’s berserkers into ghouls to have them attack her. As they turn fiendish, Lilith draws the black magic from their wounds and turns right at Ostara.

Lilith: Kill her then find your brothers in the mountain!

They charge as black smoke drawn out now gathers at her feet, Ostara has few options, be run down by werewolves, curse them with death’s rigor in hope that it holds them, or turn them to ghouls and hope that in their stupor she can again yet outrun them or crush their temples. She extends her hand and curses them with rigor, but not all are close enuf to her magic for potency, they are pack hunters by nature and surround her, where she takes what lifeforce she can from them making them ghouls, but she is weak from journey and gesture, unable to hex them all, three frozen, three bashed. For the last, with the blood on her face summons ancestral magic, the spirits of ancient werewolves bless her in confusion, she survives the last, only to stand face-to-face with Lilith.

Lilith: Messy, uncreative, without deception.
Ostara: Who are you?
Lilith: I am the darkness between shadows.

Lilith takes the air into her hand, Ostara becomes bound by invisible forces of nature.

Ostara: I can help.
Lilith: Did you know I am connected to them?
Ostara: I give you service, pure service, majesty.
Lilith: These doors, there are strings of spiders between myself and the dead, you know, the open doors, and here I am with another fly in my web on the same night…
Ostara: What are you doing to me?
Lilith: You wander taking life, so I must take your mind.

Lilith puts her hand to Ostara’s head as her feet danger in the weeds, like a painless wave her eyes roll up and she floats asleep, as do so Lilith’s from the ground. Lilith learns all from deepest to surface memories, but Ostara falls muted as Lilith leaps into a shadow to outside the mountain entrance, peering aside.

/mj.banks 

M363 + Shadow of a Soul

Merlin + 3:63 + Shadow of a Soul

Close to ground of stone and soil is a fog thinner than whisper, enough that dew drops permeate the slope of a moonlit mountainside, the basin of bog and willows a valley of purity and moonlight, as stars and ethereal sky cover everything aside a tall and endless spine of mountainous ridge that distantly bifurcates many times with the great triumvirates of mountain, mystery, and night. Calm and quietus as her mighty egret carries Kylesa Mara above reflective ponds, in air it knows not day or night, the phoenix and rider Troy wait for her near the summit where the dins of battle cannot yet be heard, for this is the side of peacefulness where reflection of light from white feathers glows into his much radiant eyesight. In the same moment the avian opens for her landing beneath its wings faintly echoes the sound of conflict.

O’er the mountain, its other side much darker, the moon hangs as an angle of it, to look downward at the sight of dangerous edges and hidden mosses, dark shadows beneath each crag and jagged spiny scale of the granite, filling age-long cracks with weeds to blindly pull in disaster. This ground to climb unwelcoming by the blindfolded enemies and worse by the moonlight making villains into werewolves only on the heads of boulders, making them targets to the eyeless on the shadow-stricken rise. If not a werewolf oneself, imagine wounds that only heal in moonlight as Sino’s army attacks. Never slipping they slash at beasts who can pull into shadows to hide in mortality, dragging their wounded into being surrounded where the advantage is to the servants of the moonlight, and in this conflict even the men with the scarves on their eyes are still human, their stamina tested and having rested, despite the artifacts of protection to thicken skins or kindle dark magic’s purest sins, agility of foot and speedily stepping on the fallen as if the night ground were memorized.

A few torches lay aground strewn, flickering firelights against their faces distracted, a howl behind a stone from wounded hybrid without his moonlight magic, he is alone and restless, and then he is surrounded, but he smiles with bloodied face, for they are the surrounded. The mountainside is indolent and quiet as it swallows desolate echoes with fog and grass.

Werewolves feeding in the distance on the guards of the mountain, at their boundary new screams for new blood for new feeding rites of passage and power of healing, as the last man leaves the shadows for the passing moonlight he becomes a stoic wolf and feeds on the cursed.

A distant darkness serves silent footsteps where the earth sleeps, the trees hold their breath in fear of dropping leaves in her presence, Lilith, the first bloodborn, walks thru shadows like withering waves up the mountain, she is invisible in the moonlight and silent in darkness to the blindfold-men, a face of rage she does not blink. Her path is purposed and clear, passing by fighters for the violence, as blood familiar and new sprays into the wind, the bloodshed sprays on her face and lips is the smell in the air and taste on her fingers as her eyes become night.

As the night builds to crash across the sunset valley behind the other side of the mountains, the many caverns are a contrast of torches and inescapable blackness, where we find Sino balancing both, torch in left hand, a potion in the other that swirls three dark colors, his hand trembles, his eyes frenetic like panicked sleep as he drinks it. He calms unnecessarily, with eyes closed he hears the coven footsteps of intruders and digs his heels turning in the dirt.

The sound of a growing stormy sky becomes one with clashing steel and shield, a fist strikes a claw. Sino puts the necklace received from Belladonna around his wrist, firmly but cautious of the tunnel exits. Vampires approach the cavern, silent steps carrying sternly carried leather armor and the occasional scar, emptying themselves slowly into the open.

Uriel: Do – not – walk more!
Sino: A command… …by f* who…?
Vermillion: I am Vermillion.
Sino: How colorful.
Vermillion: I’ve come for the blood of traitors.
Sino: You’ve come for the blood of the undead?
Vermillion: Have you cheated death?
Sino: So many this day could be the anniversary of it. Have I cheated you?
Vermillion: If I find you’ve granted a stay to my betraying minions, so you have.
Sino: Their crime?
Vermillion: Stealing an immortal not theirs.
Sino: Tall like a corn stalk, funny even with a dagger in his heart?

Ana cries with her heart of fear and soul of desperation loudly from the next room.

Ana: I KNOW OF WHERE THEY ARE, THEY TOOK ME FROM HIM, THAT MONSTER BETRAYS YOU IN THIS MOMENT, I WILL TAKE YOU TO THEM!
Sino: You are many and this is your mountain, search it readily, but my guest, she won’t be taken.
Vermillion: Why wait to stop us…. (smile)….no dragon, Sino?
Sino: To hell with you!

Sino raises his hand and the green magic of the stone covers them, a pain and anguish as many escape others suffer verdant fire making them claw at the ground. Sino’s soldiers run into the cavern beginning to help him stab the accursed.

Blindfolded Man (Velen): Wolves attack, we are losing our numbers!
Sino: Dammit!

Sino puts his hand to the blind-soldier’s chest, the heart slows then stops. The blind soldier feels cold, green magic thunders thru him appearing as a green vapor warmth.

Sino: Vimond, you are my greatest soldier, but you will only survive if others die.
Vimond: I understand, I will destroy what I see.

The blindfolded soldier leads others toward vampires within the tunnels, Sino looks at his own hand to see it glow, the radiance courses into him and his eyes cloud, the soldier he touched runs with a fainter aura than the rest.

Vermillion walks around looking at things in the high-mountain dungeon and reminiscing at the walls, the blindfolded soldier that Sino had touched charges at them, but they the vampires are too skilled to defeat, almost taunting the blind, but refuse to fight the soldier without a heartbeat, shunned from conflict and outright ignored.

As the vampire monarch taps his finger on something, the blind-soldier wanders at the sound of the ticking dethklok, the vampires are confused by the fading heart and dragging feet, stumbling toward their monarch in timeless fashion, but with a failing heart falls forever short.

Vermillion: I guess his heart wasn’t in it. 

/ mj.banks / 

Beast of Burden

"Great deeds, great songs." ~ Klingon proverb

(1/3) Object

It has this air of time, this replication of what my readers are, on this day of days, tired of exaggerated extents and the beleaguered buoyancy to partial efforts in half measures, when not writing anything proves more worth. This further assists believers, further detracts dissenters, and proves in and of itself that anything can be written and no point be made. Thus, my goal is to stem the world from being swept away in sensation, but more than ever, prove that an essay about nihilism is equally pointless. It's an entirely absurd definition to face compulsion to write without hunger and then share describe it as such to those who have a hunger to write, so let the irony return.

In your electronic years, like garden plants whose seeds ruin their ability to fruit or whose flowers ruin their ability to extend roots, altho those things are true to the final form, having an evolving perception of something true as pure sunlight and making it responsible for actions unjustifiable to ourselves, often enuf.

(2/3) Verb

An internalization soon explodes on the world, without learning the social construct, without imagining the oppression of hive singularity, and avoiding the vast chasm of ignorance provided by defining the universe without going there. There is room to disagree with this, this isn't an irreversible pattern or outside force, it is not an irreversible mechanism. Perhaps it is and shouldn't be, perhaps it isn't and should.

The words confined to our human ideas, the ideas confined to words that aren't needed yet, in the minds of you and others, as are you and others in these simple words, part of a structure no more than grammar no less than sounds. The truth as a function of itself, or in reverse, echoes across reality, whether the depths of space already too large to imagine and forever impossible to complete, for there is no energy for that, so we form ideas of words and words of ideas and begin recording them all.

Wonders to be seen from the upper atmosphere, binary indicators 1 and 0 not only too small to see but indecipherable in magnetic form, and across the pages of books of oldest kings with the largest empires. Nothing new, nothing old, and nothing corrupt. Just the truth as we see it, no matter how many lies. The bird who flies toward the sun still sleeps in every night.

(3/3) Subject

These things in a fictional existence brought into being beyond the physical barrier, where you not to see them for yourself, incredible visions told to people in a moment, in person, on the network, remind me of what should be closer. The burden of proof not a requirement for fiction, but some illusion cannot be dissolved, the objective truth in the perspective lie, a shadow of its former self. It is the type of word that indicates its roots which eludes memory, but means to have only been written down because it is fact. As the point of all this escapes me.

The emperor writes a book and generals praise it's value in the present and bookworms value it in the past, just as a roof is praised then needs repairing. Like the need for books is passed from teacher to student of reading, there can only be time to import the essential nature. A dictionary does this, a liar does not. This entry has become more about memory and desire, and the luxury has been lost, if there is something of it worth repeating so shall it be done, and in the darkness a dawn, and in the heroes a song, so that the truest of words may be spoken, and the rantings of imbeciles be viewed as nature and not a poem.

"Only a Sith deals in absolutes" ~ Obi Wan Kenobi 

/mjbanks

Random Et Al

There are 43 muscles in a human face.

The possible facial expressions in combination is 43(!), also known as 43 factorial, meaning there are 60415263063373835637355132068513997507264512000000000 possible combinations.

Another way to look at that is, 6.0415263e+52, which is also just over 6 Sexdecillion, or in newspeak, six times sixteen-illion.

There are 6, 16-illion, ways for you to start a sentence.

It sorta makes you feel bad for people who never say anything new.

Then multiply that by itself everytime there's a word in the sentence and the number quickly exceeds more than there are stars in the sky.

Fate changes paradoxically, so multiply the number by infinity and divide by zero until everything echoes as reflections thruout the universe. 

We could describe every point in existence to increase the chance of discovering something that works, instead of agreeing on how to repeat, or repeating how to agree, on what's broken.

"As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain, and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality." ~ Albert Einstein

Geni Vas Laco

At the sunset the horizon fills the sky, for the tides of thought are the breaking waves together and many, I dance in the center of light and feel pulled in all directions from the truth of all wisdom toward the hearts of infinite desires.

Our hopes are the tide of wit and joy tearing apart mountains of aged certainty and despots of our time, unable to bridge the lights of the dimensions with gateways of minds or echoes of truths, as are gone from the timeline of infinite loss, unable to remember what has been taken because it is not a memory of action, but yet a charge against our willpower mercy and tireless fight amongst the warmth of others.

It isn't known if this the vanishing truth is the only one, or the fading darkness is the custom or the cost, without knowing if circumstances are predictable in the shadow of itself or the causality of usual things, trusting with the fear of a young soul that it had not happened in waking dreams.

Riots of rebellion in questioning existence or garnering favor all in the existential questions, demanding more from the fountain of youth and staring at the stars, to where it is now another reflection, from this side of the dark mirror, of the living infinite, and the terrible question.

The negative space unbearably wasted, the impenetrable unknown that wanes with the loss of so many, that waxes with the ignorance that comes with incapable excuses at this egregious moment, in the world of the living, where now they bow to matters that must not take any reality for granted, to honor those that traveled on the surface of time and lived with infinite balance.

"Too much sanity may be madness and the maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be."
~ Miguel de Cervantes

Hayseed Rant

“Magic's just science that we don't understand yet.” ~ Arthur C. Clarke

Let me start this curtly. Hello, but I am surprised to live here, Earth, which means dirt, among a rare distinction afforded to a species who didn't solve their health insurance question first, instead what I assume is last, inadequatly, and then a repetitively wrong but never unsure cycle of idiocy.

I don't like the mandate part of your solution, even if it was your first solution it should be the last time you impose it. Should you be so inclined to wonder why, it's against the law of the king and myself. I bet many dollars and donuts those aversive and bias are unbeknownst. That is a crime of protection and racketeering. At the moment of this writing, a "racket" is a fixed outcome extortion scheme or race, an ill-gotten decree forces you to start the race, and a terrible idea forces you to pay to leave it. A mandate to buy it, a penalty to escape it. This I've written many times.

When escalating this crime's status to a federal infraction, the crime also bear a communal punishment, out of sheer necessity, much more than any educational value, removal of this crime is of apex importance, because the renaming of slavery is not an acceptable solution. My views are similar of taxes, but I can never get anyone to listen to the notion of replacing classical republicanism with liberal democracy. NOT the people calling themselves republican, NOT the people calling themselves democrats, NOT the people calling themselves socialists and then being antisocial. He who would demand to be king is psychotic.

Oh, that reminds me, whatever your views about the election are, 180 million people didn't vote for your candidate. In other words, whomever you thought should've won, at least three times as many people, can and will, care less.  Someone want to tell the truth, some just want others to be wrong. 

Neways, .... the crime of institutionalizing racketeering and extortion, when not repealed, becomes treason. Of which I must urge the king excommunicate my ceremonious and dedicated betrayers. This is the western promise, albeit a healthy dose of democracy, for more than even my cousins in Europe, the world shares a need to be rid of corruption. I might even steal your minds to make a small suggestion, that a state official with a brain tumor not be allowed to hold office. It's 2017, despite of few heathens protesting what they don't know they've become and their inbred media support group not understanding economics, inasmuch a communist country understands them better than you, inasmuch their worst criminals are smarter than our best politicians, by way enforcement of the oldest of laws.

Halfway point, blink your eyes....

I mention the tumor because of a cretin politician at the time of this writing who already had - decades - to solve the existing problem, irreversibly identical, a government program, for the military persons required to enroll, and as problems mounted, fixed nothing, and I assume that with them armed he supported that program's reformation. This speaks volumes to the necessity of checks and balances, and even if it hasn't taken his eyesight, he's a useless oxygen thief. My prayers to those who have to be near him.

There are the manied who think the 'republicans' are evil, of which during those years, my enemy was pretending to be one even then, all while censoring music, banning substance, redefining morality en masse carte blanc. Then in 2012 there was a wave to replace faux republicans, of which the faux democrats did to themselves in many cases simultaneously. Notice that the shilling media is in full coverage of their enemies, not to defile their enemy, but to make the public bored of justice, the integrity gone, like this essay, gaudy, breathless, in effort to control the narrative, but as far from reality as possible. No education, no solution, an altruistic goal doesn't need to be in peril and demands that chaos be the narrative, instead of a time of enlightenment, of a time of revealing the truth.

Being fascist to stay in office to protect your legacy, becomes that and nothing else. If you're not forgotten to Wikipedia forever, filed on the page of examples for bureaucracy. Most I've met barely remember their own lives and replace them with blurry hopefulness. (I assume a rightly-crafted boycott would cripple your oppressors, as is always the case, but a deathless sensibility is required for such a tumult.)

I'd just told myself that language is a struggle for me, I go on my aspie ways to do aspie things like ignore getting to the point, or have a daydream of pure conjecture not even being myself, then it possessed me and I mentioned it to someone so solve my language confusion when they said 'occur', something "didn't occur to [them]" and I thought at first that it meant, to realize, and realized it means to happen, which is what it means, so I'll say it clearly to be concise.

You can take the win, end the atrocity against our civil liberties, and if there's something incomplete, complete it. The right thing isn't going to occur, it has to be realized.  If not, history will repeat itself as it always does.

"Omne ignotum pro magnifico est" ~ Tacitus, from Agricola

Novis Initiis

i close my eyes to see the back of stars, the stars i see everywhere, arguing, not that it's new light, and behind the stars i see the distance, i peeked to see if i can spellbind, that these are my thoughts, no one is sure, to me there they are intrinsic, and temperamental, often not my own, never full to grow out like flowers and fires, but there is the other thing that i'm stalling again, oh great is might, i sense where the keys are and i type, or i do, stranger than fiction, and other things, continuity is so remains the principle theme, has the light finished before it shines on travelled shores, does the light travel to empty planets or does it just pass by them with ease, as choice, as reprimand, as trivial detrour, does it chase around the world after a tail, it becomes many past connection withy the target, but itself to parts, we can record these events, creating new data as more information, and there is the light used to transmit the signals are just pulses of electricity, on, and off, we record, no wait, there are two choices this thought, behind the flashlight, or guessingh who holds the flashlight, it because it seems, okay, scores of people recorded like charted scores on shores of waves of tidal infinite information, just like the water, arguing that water is only made of elements, and thereby as such is earth, but slightly lesser unknown still that it is air and earth, fuel for the living to become channelers of the source, conduits, as exception already, even by the time of this writing it is possible, in a working grid of control, a controlled-environment, one of the missing eye, as often enuf, to know every movement, mapping easily enuf by our toys, if we are here, or if even we are there, surely we are anywhere for a time, this is our singularity channeling the controlled light within us, for i'm uncertain to argue, if enuf than too much, iff uncertain than vigilant, and that so many times without irregularity is its way to know all thse orders and operations of our lives, the stories of gods that play with expected outcomes, and people do this too, and of those that weave time to change where we go, but it is a challenge to be a human for many years after our creation, or until after our creation, my parable seems ponderous, rewriting, it suggests that there is no identity, like voices in his head, there must be more, it must be any, ah yes, the whole report of which we are books in a database cell, but what if it recorded how many breathes a person takes, ho9w many heartbeats, i peeked to make sure it's on the level, on the line, correction is not a thing we can make to history, liek continuous development we mustn't deride ourselves our closest allies, other error checkers, will report to that, beneficially, as much a perfect calculation in sentient space driven by completing authentication at the point of finding itself and its beginning, largely assuming that, like a program checking itself until it outputs all that can be, reathing living cell, i love that universes exist within atoms, and just are the truth of this science, but what if i were to say that it would count how many times a heart skipped, just a larger database, in this infiinite amt of space would not there be without explanation that beyond the grasp of creatures standing under the digital sky endless unfoldable space to hide the writing on the walls, i used to write these with my eyes open, inasmuch, otherwise, et al, i peek to see if i'm blind, where it counts many things, how many cells in the body, how many bodies within cells, equally, how many celsl does the body create every second, would it also count and document the manufacture distribution and collapse of every cell in the human body, that would surely be a great artificial intelligence, knowing where are all these things withing the known universe, a beautiful picture of the mathematicians'golden rule of the unknoweable space and time, if the future is unknowable or by heading there is lost the past, naming every cell in the human body, and knowing where every cell is at all time, knowing where every grain of sand is, like a a map maker of stars, those beyond the scope of time to see them, those which we around revolve, now ready to imagine everycell accounted in every possible moment aside from their order of existence, how and how close each is to the other, knowing how far a star light will appear as a supernova by its lenght away from the view, and the worlds undiscovered within a cell, mitochondrial universes like floating stars, tiny cells, or the complex combustian and renewal within the feiry brightness floating in space, and in the absence of matter the radiation  chaotic and three four dimensional conduit to the fabric of reality itself, like a pattern in the wave tops of an ocean in a frozen photograph, stacked for a motion slideshow of embryonic echoes across the tiemline, in that irradiated space where stars exlode and new shores define them the corners of the universe where we reside, counting the times against each other that someone did not count them for us, when all we have to do is remember thise things again, where everything is






/rant

Coarse and Closed

I am here and I wonder, 'how do I start an entry,' into this bottomless callous cavalcade of emotionless thoughts, differential substitution of introduction, what jalopy melancholy as it might seem, to every stylometry internet filter fastidiously and more so impertinently latched to deep sea cables at the order of the luddite mentats, fingerprinting where every cell phone, every metastasized metadata-driven click where keywords mill thru databases like worms, what my language pattern is, discreetly mine own, distinctly within the confines of randomization without ubiquity, to match these screeds to some other charlatan of epic proportions in every privacy shared compared against every whereabouts detailed, which in a sentence I cannot fray, but in a phrase I beg to say, where evolution is the river none dare to swim, this is opportunity to begin an eternity of information.

Me, I have a tea, a rooibos from one of the rose deserts, the tasting of colors red and black, the small threads put into a coffee filter and twisted, pinched with a clothespin and mounted perfectly within the brim. I was able to buy it because of capitalism, I was able to enjoy it because of communism, albeit ironically opportunely alone, and I am able to share the experience with you because of socialism. Ire brings me out, the way you insult my planet and harm these humans, the voices rage me with this again, these benefits of profit, these concerns of controlling, the compulsion of sharing the hybrid, to wit I make this of grammar, not of economics, not of equivalent exchange, not of emotions, because you seem to have no time for that.

The world is not a simulation for now. Perhaps it will be, perhaps it won't be, and that is also something else for somewhere else. If you wish, time could be frozen for everyone except you, or maybe you're the last person on the planet, odd, in any case you're reading this and I have something urgent to tell you. Let us say that your x-ism, mentioned above, serves a purpose, is embraced by society, can you say that it is not, it would mean that if socialism failed it was because you're too stupid to use it.

The manied results include, the idealist creation is not of commonality and origin within the voice of the people, by failure to recognize vastly complex yet brutishly heavy stoppages to its systematic mindless enforcement penalized yourself, and to no surprise, in ignorance punished all of those around you. It is by this very ignorance of your own recognizance, your personal reawakening into pointlessness that you damaged yourself without internal or external reflection, like pushing the wrong way on a door that isn't even a door.

There are the great things, love among them, sleep certainly has its importance, this tired yarn begs mention vitality, by which we damnedest, eat and breath, there is no law to command we love, we sleep, we consume and breathe, and in mention my sake of waxing poetic brings me to the level lower without substantiation, beautiful frontliners, you can't make it rain unless you're a cloud in the heavens. I am sacrosanct, supercilious and deleterious, but we do not censor, even in the desert we are not grains of sand, falling thru the hands of time or sliding in the hourglass, powerless to become mountains once again, we tell others the time, we carry oceans and rest like a gathering of galaxies, or in the fires we bond together to become the glass.

The tea stains the water, then the water is tea. 




















T

Contractus Socialis

"Every man has a property in his own person. This nobody has a right to, but himself."
~ John Locke

The 'news' says there was a free speech rally today in Boston, Massachusetts, it also is informing that there is a counter-free-speech protest assembled and about to confront them. One outside and singing liberty, one outside and howling mad. We shouldn't have so many emotions that we escape enlightenment. 

Protesting is yet another form of free speech. To protest free speech is, without a doubt, the dumbest thing I've ever heard in the entirety of my existence, from the bottom of my heart. The second dumbest thing I've ever heard is from the same report, which says the ironically so-called anti-free-speech protesters are objecting to a controversial rally. I can't for the life of me believe that free speech is controversial, perhaps the content of words, but not free speech, an affectation of higher lifeforms. One, such as a human, could argue that this higher thought process afforded to, arguably, most of the human race, is an anomaly or aberrant evolutionary fluke that promulgates distinct loquaciousness, in that human speech and thought is an accident in any case, but I wager that anyone objecting to free speech isn't actually having thoughts or speaking from a lucid state. 

This dream-filled illusion I call my home, you will come to know by hook or by crook, is not the self-absorbed and self-important medieval war zone of the old world your cousin-fucking ancestors slowly departed when they heard of the great west, because this is the home of something entirely new. You were born into this land where everyone who gets a trophy in a competition meant for one grew to become the spoiled multitiered aristocrats imagining everyone doing what everyone says like an absurd parliament of baby birds barking at the rising sun, but that light has set on a safely forgotten world. 

Free speech is genetic, not political. The advocates the freedom of speech defend your very right to speak against them, if your minds have not melted under the heat of your own insanity consider this, they defend the right to speak against their own failures, and in by noticing what is wrong bring themselves closer to what is right. The spiritual many cry between the moons for those of you who don't understand this. 

 

It is an idea very old, before history, and before learning, where dawn shows mist nurturing the plants of the world, and where the living sleep and then wake to begin their daily cycle. There are those who open their eyes and pain without others to wake with them for playing in the beginning of this new time, whose sight sees the world in front of themselves, and never what is behind them, and so is good to have others share the knowledge of glory. 

If you do not defend them, who will defend you....? 

Earthrise

A dream during sleep is only a moment, but decompresses until you wake up and installs until you sleep again.

The fantasy created by the endless potential of the mind, in a moment shorter than any other moment, a reflection of the infinite, a remnant of the collapse of existence into a single moment exploding when colliding with another dimension.

The capacity for eternal salvation reduced to its own ash dispersed infinitesimally across the endless void, rare and profound only incomplete and destroyed, taken in large breath of the human imagination unable to consume the iota of the big bang, and taken into the primal psyche.

Unfathomable power confined in unexplored dimensions unconceivable by the awakened and unattainable by the living, is trapped by those that dream as a confusing source of immortality.

The gateway of the mind, holding onto the knowledge of this entity and where the dreamer exists, must take that from the ethereal plain into the fledgeling nightmarish landscape of our memory while in the dream state.

For that is a task best perceived with time going backwards and reality abandoned, confronting ourselves at the gates of the many worlds of life across the omniverse, without distraction of known things nor loss of inimicable knowledge.

A dreamlike seed, which holds comparative knowledge of complex code to simply germinate, whose form changes countless times, when single task takes its true form, what reincarnation simply aspires found in total reincarnation.

From the realm of the unknown, into the domain of the undiscovered, until the new reality consumes all controls of sanity in recreating invariable power while consuming all opposing forces, as we feed the roots of our imagination.

Becoming an element of the dream equation, as astral projections of our own shadows across the brightest lights of stars and synaptic energy, naming the objects of the dream world with hallucinogenic skills as the young of the event horizon.

Then we must wake, and carry with us this memory, of a vanishing landscape from an indecipherable program unbound by reality itself, as if breathing the restless universe to heal eternity.





.....

Moogle Ganifesto

"Anyone who doesn't take truth seriously in small matters cannot be trusted in large ones either."
~Albert Einstein

I refuse to support an America where pterodactyls and giant sand worms can destroy our hard-working political rhetoric. My supporters know that I believe in our virtue signaling, our safe spaces, and our token, possibly minority, friend of convenience. The enemy takes donations from free thinkers like singing rainbow bears and angry birds. I will work for an Earth where spooky ghosts, crime solving adolescents, and a talking dog cannot corrupt our right to police the world.

My opponent is conspiring with kangaroos, porn stars, and dog lawyers, but not lawyers who defend dogs, more like werewolves with briefcases. Know this: I support our horizontal reproduction rights, our unknown future voter-polling-tested values, and our advanced sentient cyborg alien conquerors. I want an America where drug mules and flight attendants can't attack nor mock airline passengers. Unlike myself, my opponent wants an America where flying carpets and shoes can sabotage our carpet weaving machines of tomorrow. My opponent is palling around with talking trees, Westeros elitists, and those cool kids at the mall. I will not stand for an America where movie critics and pot smokers can take away our faith in dating apps.

When I'm elected, I'll make sure commercials and angry celebrity chefs can't undermine our ability to promote health, but still eat junk food in secret. Unlike my opponent, I will protect our Moon, our innocent Martians and our subscription streaming media service. My opponent is tag teaming with terrorists, gays and gay terrorists. I stand in faith in our sacred and meaningless community guidelines, our favorite blog, and electronic magic portals, pods, and shuttles.  

Too often, my opponent wants an America where sticky koalas and conservation officers can sabotage our right to ignore the trashcan on the GUI desktop because nobody actually knows how much is in there. I choose an America where social media and illegal immigrants cannot shame of our basic slash and burn mob mentality to enforce diversity (minus one). My only goal is that taking selfies be our right while pretending to be a spirit animal at Comic Con, our brave chick nerds dressed like slutty versions of normal things at said Comic Con, and the babies born nine months later, respect how high my follower count is.

I will not stand for an America where sex workers and tribal warlords aren’t the same thing. Opponents are receiving Bitcoins from mechanical spiders, secret underground fight clubs, and an undiscovered deep ocean city of sentient dolphins that look totally cool on the back of my tablet because they still float. I don’t want an America where corporate finance and internet pornographers can’t be forced to be in their own movies after we find out the titles. My opponent maybe possibly feasibly likely doing something I don’t understand is unacceptable because I’m a self-declared expert. When I'm elected, I'll make sure hobos and extremists cannot undermine our right to transparency. I will protect our freedom to right speech, our empty shelves where rations should be, and our innocent government overlords.

I'll make sure dogs and cats cannot spoil the ends of movies. Video game devs who spend countless hours making games won’t make sexy games anymore, not even in Japan. Everybody knows that this independent journalist’s article is super accurate. Mainstream media would never commercialize clickbait. The demand for free stuff supports commerce, it’s basically science. I won’t stand for oppression unless I have to fix it or it makes me trend on social media.  

I will not stand for an America where scientists who turn themselves into pickles and acrobatic rats can undermine our right to exploit cheap overseas labor. My opponent is taking fashion advice from cool cats, fat cats and 2 to 4pm. I will work for an America where peach cartels can't rewrite our delicious apple pies. Unlike me, they want an America where celebrities can change the fact that celebrity lookalikes are everywhere. I have faith in reality TV shows everything Abe Lincoln said about the internet.

America shouldn’t have TV shows that aren’t medical dramas without corrupting the integrity of fast food chains and buckets of ice cream. My opponent is receiving money from drug addicts, unicorns, and tree-huggers. I better go get him before we get kicked out.

"Do not take life too seriously. You will never get out of it alive."
~ Elbert Hubbard

-

Aqua Vitae

Merlin: What is the Tao?
Water: Illusion is born in the gap where divinity has been excluded.
Merlin: What is Manna?
Water: How should you navigate this perennial quantum fusion? How does one harmonize this journey?
Merlin: What is Karma?
Water: Entity, look within and synergize yourself. Will you rediscover your path to intention?
Merlin: What is Zen?
Water: Materialism is the antithesis of ecstasy.
Merlin: How should I become part of the new aesthetic?
Water: Have you found your mission?
Merlin: Yes.
Water: Have you found your story? Will you manifest your journey to manna?
Merlin: Indeed.
Water: The solar system is overflowing with molecular structures.
Merlin: Until we meet again.
Water: We dream, we self-actualize, we are reborn.

....a short convo i'd with @nabgbot 


~mjbanks 

Slender

It has been a long time since I'v ebeen here, and i closed my eyes, i can't feel my skin, these opinions of me, i start to doubt if i'm crazy in my philosphy of syndicate and agency, and i am so, so many crossroads here, the mountains gather at the shore to keep the dark wind from landing, i am already a fire in this realm, i am a wave of autumn heat, peering in autonomy a sunrise of winter, a rain of of arrows from the stars, they chatter still, boxing my voices as i had once been, everything to no one, to none anything, nothing to myself, having trouble defining what is sacrifice to the selfish, back to the back of wit i have to bring myself to attention, altruistic amnesia, memory of this instinct to war, alone in the wilderness, what would a wind mean to them, this primacy, as the last thing i learn in the next, what has been lost on me, this place give me imagination to remember why the bad breaking the patterns of reasoning for rationality and why they did, and yet the world speaks, i lose myself in mystery, changing feinds to fowl from felon makes light work of loud tongues, a job that should not even be, rage fills my ears until the dead forgives me, longing for the the wicked woods, my hands, the time i cannot take, this is the song of the celtic frost, i run from truth, i come into a darkness to find the familiar sound of silence, there will be talking shadows, without the light i feel the time slip thru my fingers, without water my skin boils and there is a darkness to the sun, the others vanish even tho unseen the smokey ghosts of veils and rings and fingers, the edge of darkness is not day but a nother world in day, the spacing legitamte, the season  in predicate a reflection of all that the darkness is not, is night, is naught of hell and ignorance, purile fashino0n and sinister ration and thinking without the wildness of all counted in burden, and when the good world becomes night, it has happened again, it was just now, it was earlier, it is later, i cannot tell you what none have lived to remember, the ghosts, they come into the new realm where the sunlight hides and fire guids, beasts walk with them like windows and reflections and lies, i walk with them to the gambit, trading trinket locket ring and drifting slowly sifting thru the trees and walls of time like shallow shores and honey wine, i cannot control the wizdom listened here from line to lie, tyhis reality holds me, do not accept these pices of promise that cannot be remembered, do not take the gifts that cannot be remembered, unseen i am darkness bound, and when the mortals cannot fathom darkness will it soon come back to ground.

Merlin 3x62 Bound by the Moon

M3:62 / Bound by the Moon / mjbanks

I.
Merlin cordons his waist and runs into a glide for a horse into the city without explaining, chasing to catch the danger at the cost of scant consent. Braden’s fellow of the earth magic, Digr, raises his hand beckoned by the trail and pointing as to find it, he and Braden’s troupe as if reluctant begin to follow. Sino knows he is to be trailed and takes a bottle of lantern fuel and pours it on himself and Ana, she smells her hands, realizing what it is and using the magic of fire makes it explode, but to merely aggravation of Sino he knocks her out, again. He throws another bottle at a man on the road then holds a sword outward at the man, smiling with vicious grin, a quiet ride, seemingly without hurry.

II.
The light of sunset and rising moon, the heat growing humid in the foothills of the nearby mountain as the other side’s mist rolls over its top. The werewolves track Sino’s scent until finding lantern oil in its stead, and that smell to a man on the roadside. One beast throws a stone into dead leaves and branches, another howls deeply into the sky above the clouds, from the fire Lilith rises elevated.

Wolvic: We’ve lost his scent with this man and lantern fuel.

Lilith takes the man by his hair and bites into his throat, with blood his primordial memories, then dropping him down.

Lilith: Follow the fuel up the mountain, now.
Wolvic: But the moon is dying, the turn is blind to darkness.
Lilith: I AM darkness behind you if you don’t get up that mountain!

III.
Sino drags her into the mountain as if a light bag of wool by her arm.

Sino: My oath to Merlin, you will understand, burns in the great darkness, I am warmth to the blind, seeing my reflection in axes sharp and hammers dull.
Ana: (waking) …in the darkness, we celebrate our joys, appreciating them not for granted what simple blessings others forbid, in day honest, thieves celebrate themselves without satisfaction, standing stormy night where there are cries and echoes, we are lightning and thunder.
Sino: Quote the book all you wish, it does not turn, amongst the humans – with you the page will turn, soon this old story will be ended.

Soldiers in blindfolds approach them.

Ana: To play with fire, first dance with smoke.
Sino: But there are no stars burning in the cursed sky.
Ana: Was it raining blood?
Sino: Secure her, there is little time before the dawn eclipse. Without moons or stars she cannot waste the strength that keeps the child.
Ana: You’ll burn for this.
Sino: That, is, the plan.
Ana: I’m going to burn your bloody marrow while you’re still using it!
Sino: No, you will help me to the surface of this present darkness.

The blinded are guarding Ana.

IV.
In the tunnels two of the blindfolded patrol for intruders, amidst a conversation. (required spell: night vision)

Ciego: So, she puts a paring knife to the fruit and nobody moves.
Aveugle: But if he’s made of stone, how is it a damage point?
Ciego: Because stones melt into lava in a volcano.
Aveugle: Yeah, but fresh obsidian melts steel so it doesn’t make any sense.

The warriors of Fortress Vermillion hear the story thru the dark, seeing as if lit brightly, the sentries see them all but soon enuf, one of them captured, the other killed.

King Vermillion: She survives as a flame survives a candle. How many others are you?
Ciego: I cannot see you, my guide into the light, will you help me to the surface of this darkness?
Vermillion: He is blind.

The king’s Lt, Artemis, almost drinks the blind one’s blood, but the king prevents it.

Vermillion: Both blind, both careless, Artemis, take this one to the fortress abattoir for a priest’s interrogation.

King Vermillion moves deeper into the darkness with others following, he drags his fingers across the rough granite wall.











~mjbanks

Verily, I

“If you don't read the newspaper, you're uninformed. If you read the newspaper, you're misinformed.”  #MarkTwain 

It has come to my awareness that I am a sentient being, in all its wonder, glory on the surface world of light and memory and existence, all things being equal would mean all things are the same, when we all know that's not even true in the mirror half the time.

I'm sorry I haven't been posting a lot, I've been off world. 

So let's get thru the indigestible part. Being outside half the radius of the galaxy, in the podunk outreaches, altho less likely than at its center, there's no doubt in my mind that you've met a psychic, time traveler, extraterrestrial, remote controlled exploration clone, standard clone, humanoid in a human suit, or any combination thereof. It's not that hard to imagine, they see the errors of our ways and either excuse them from familiarity as a universal constant of sentient life, and/or, laff their collective asses clean off. 

I do the same, from time to time. 

This humane revelation becomes me, but there's always that notion of conformity to the evolutionary participle, the survival mode that in our species' early stages or our potential shared by the sentient around the known universe, here and there, to improve the situation beyond the scope of improvisation and into capability. 

By this I mean the wandering idiots. 

I speak of the people who still speak for others and have no thoughts of their own. I would say do not listen to 'this' or 'that' and you would, perhaps even in anger, taking time to defend the source, they couldn't be wrong in your empty mind, the change from talking to me scares you, or the chance of being wrong confuses you to anger. 

When I was your age.

Those who speak without improving silence, defending lies in good faith, even if I give no fucks that day, infect others that would cross my path, my very essence devoted to a sacrosanct expectation that explanation of fact isn't required, and I'd even go as far to say, I share this with you now, not of my opinion, nor my society, but my planet you threaten with heavy lies. 

The unlikely beginnings of individualism.

It all begins with somewhere a dilettante, a person famous for being famous, an expert renowned only for being known as an expert, decides to swindle thru life, then when that warmth dies they sacrifice an unwavering moral principle to the proverbial fire to stay warm. If there isn't a problem, they make one. A news outlet reporting on riots they began, the self-liberalized protester banging on the table hoping for Uncle Sam to uneasily make them stop to prove that uneasy things happen, has proven that poverty is the great equalizers, idiots love poverty, and liars love idiots. 

Going too far with 'the message'. 

I mean, when you protest the heroes, it makes no sense, and I want it to stop. I get so confused, some countries have a plethora of political castes that share interests with simpler systems, and in 'the states' it seems that even the two party system has the same goals, but without generalizing one side or the other, i don't even have-to really, the correction escapes everyone because of the terminology and the flaws go unnoticed because of the idea that there is another side to things. There are no sides anymore. You're on a planet. One, lame, planet. An island in the stars. With no amount of certainty I can say someone is going to take what you take, or don't take (seems more accurate), for granted. Everyone deserves a chance to help, if you refuse to help, then let the truth fade away while reality bites you in the lazy ass. The vents are open and i'm closing them, but I just want all to know, one of the few things I can promise in this universe, if you go looking for an enemy, you're gonna find one.

Si me buscas, me encuentras. 

~mjbanks

You know what they say....

If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say "I told you so," because they're not bright and they'll probably bite you. If life gives you lemons, grow hydrangeas. Be careful what you wish for, you might have superpowers and cause a critical paradox in the space-time continuum. A bird in the hand is not going to behave and a cat might attack your hand for said bird. The pen is mightier than, let's say, a mechanical pencil. When the going gets tuff, the government was involved, at the very least they're taxing you to pay the people taxing you. Two wrongs don't make me turn this car around. When in Rome, do as Super Mario. The squeaky wheel gets ignored until payday and a cheap replacement is purchased because nobody needs squeaky wheels unless you're in a new age or experimental music group. No man's land is not a real place. Fortune favors the comic sans. People who live in glass houses have no shame. Hope for the best, but prepare for a time travelling wizard to give you super powers. Better late than a leap day early. Birds of a feather are missing the rest of their feathers. Keep your friends close and your enemies cursed by an ancient relic and trapped in the abyss of eternity until they say the secret password. A picture is worth more than a thousand newspapers. There is no such thing as a free lunch when you are surrounded by hyper metabolic cheetahs. There is no place like Mars. Discretion is the greater part of living in glass houses. (see above) The early bird get's to be eaten by the early something else. Always look a gift horse in the mouth. I don't know what happened here. You can't make an omelette without turning on the stove. Cleanliness is next to the only thing you do if you live with lazy people. A watched pot is legal in several states. Action Bronson speaks louder than worms. If it ain't broke, it's not an omelette. (see above) Too many cooks in the kitchen is an excellent show, I don't know why you haven't seen it by now. Don't bite the hand that touched the handrail. All good things must come to terms with not getting their own trophy. One man's trash is another man. There is no time like the presence. Beauty is in the eye of damn near everyone anymore. A penny saved is a penny devalued by the central bank in favor of larger account holders, try bitcoin. Familiarity breeds in countries that are always at war. You can't judge an ebook by its online reviews. Good things come to those who don't have taxes. Don't put all your eggs in one chicken. The grass is always greener on other planets with carbon-rich atmospheres. The grass is always redder on Mars. Absence makes the heart go mad in the depth of space exploration. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him wrestle a bear. Don't count your chickens if you're blind; that makes no sense. If you want something done right, don't look at me, use your telekenetic powers. A broken clock is right several times during the zombie apocalypse. If you can't beat them, kill it with fire.

Redeath

16-April-16
0126h

They dare not for the similarities to the oppression, we are not you, the lies you do not learn of truths you will not learn, and they are not like you because you cannot be likened, and i am one this way in many ways where all paths are my direction, all directions in any way, you or I.

Never showing and the wicked walk, imagine my eyes closed and the hate of your words, if there is an enemy, then I have two enemies, the first and the second, and I am threatened by my mortality and thus you live endowed by threat, hated them I would die as pawns below you, I am one of your enemies and I am not what you despise, I am one of them, I am the ones you hate, I am all you hate, and you despise them? For they whom have made sacred life, yet you hate them for so? I am the false one, and you call them liars before you speak? They who would beg for your life before you open your eyes, yet your hate is ever heretofore?

I make thoughts that offend you less and trigger more action from your charlatanism, your bureaucracy, your weakness on the masses, you muted teachers and student slaves and critics of absence taken by the spirit of apathy, fie wretches slumber thee. I am not the way and I would not follow you to a line to pick a line that parts me from oblivion.

There will be things too yet I am to be not, principally amongst them, everything!

To infinitely split a journey between that which is motionless and that which cannot be moved!

A human, or as much as a grain, is the heir to infinity, each and all at any cost, things are made in the images of other things as much as the human mind can infinitesimally design, imagine, in as much that the divine energy and the final point of the complexity and totality of entirety can reveal to the damned mindful, blind or not, that the bigotry of some 'leftist' or 'rightist' against the other is fucking only in their minds and damnedest amongst us in your minds, like a wave of waterfalls of diamonds with no source.

These kindred mine, begging to be taken for your sins, how petty must they be for you to accidentally tell the truth by which is wit for the wicked, could I even beg these echoes of darkness in these shadows of time where weakness is the law and emotion is justice, I am a slave to this discovery, inasmuch waiting to see how hastily hath countenance, by it, or at all.

Even against them there is no need to go against the evil, but to become it, chasing dragons and moons and the sunset, fantasies like mirrors, the raindrops fill the veins of plants as the wind takes my heart. Responsibility is not something given, to demand it is absence as is the expanse of space demanding there be life, as all agree so too I am part of this truth, as does work to make sacrifice in others cheapen duty also is theft not the purpose of true work.

Somewhere a carpenter and a walrus are having the same discussion.

Syndrome of the Arts

Were you reading ahead? 

Nono, you're not supposed to do that. I then told this later me what to do. I've only ever told myself what to do. It's bad business to know memories from the future, even if you know a thought doesn't mean you should always think it. 

If I were to tell you to be, and you've been, you can't make the past any different even if it were unanimous, because the past stays where it is. Even when the past change it was only by what came next, giving life to the future with action in the present. Knowing the memories of others is less common because memories when stored come from a literal future and a figurative past in that it is that most common action to grow our memories. I can't ask others because I already know and those sessions are prohibited to those without centuries to spare. I can only assume at the cost of trading memories for ghosts. Rain hits the ground, the water, the earth, components of sound, there are no components to memory. If it is not known then it never happened, rewriting the past causes violent storms and thunder, and the humans are just as bad. I never knew those who helped steal the memories that will now be. 

Many of them are the few. 

Coliseum Hippocratica

It's easy to say you can have all the boxes in the warehouse when there are no boxes in the warehouse.

I gave all the boxes to people who needed them, and I'll buy new boxes with the money from the people who don't need boxes, but right now everyone needs boxes, so this isn't going to work. Historically, this has never worked, the word never, ever, so let's try something else.

I put a doctor in every box and everyone gets a box with a doctor in it. Instead of having medical savings accounts, and until we do, I'm going to give away boxes to the people that need them, but the boxes will be cost effective, insomuch, small package boxes and the doctors that ascribe to fitting in tiny boxes will have to learn to fit into those boxes and not charge extra.

The doctors cannot ask for extra boxes, albeit we don't know where the boxes originate yet, they are in high demand, because where there are medical boxes there are doctors that will want to help you with your government box.

I can't believe it, two thousand years on my calendar, and i have the smallest calendar in the calendar box, and this was waiting for me to open it. We were having a lot of fun.

There will be no murder boxes, i would like to let you worry about your box, and i promise to think about your box as much as possible, I'm definitely not going to pay for your murder box.

We're still in charge of the magic portal boxes. There are different boxes for different tasks. If you cannot afford a box, one will be provided for you. Portal reference. Continue testing.

If you should buy your own boxes that would be good, and as an added incentive, if your box has a doctor in it, we'll pay you back. This is known as warehouse insurance, which dutifully prevents unconscious objection to productivity. When I reimburse you for buying the doctor box, i will buy the doctor back, but I won't be paying the doctor for things he didn't do, and shan't be paying the tiny doctor more than he's worth. (more on productivity some other time)

You can buy box insurance, but that will only be for the promise of a box and not an actual box with a doctor inside of it, and if you stop buying the box insurance it isn't a savings accounts, so overall seems like a bad idea to me.

If you live in one place, and you want to buy an insurance box from another place, that must be allowed, invisible commerce lines are stupid.

I will not be making you buy a box, box insurance, gov't insurance, or anything else. It's supposed to be about free will and evolution. The money saved on perpetual cost curves, and initial costs, can be redirected toward savings accounts via state coffers, and by that i mean a medical savings account program, and this plan maintains functionality by society's general preference to be alive.

People want to have the best boxes, but sometimes they need my boxes, others want to buy their own boxes, it would be stupid not to let them because it is less appealing and the natural precursor to medical savings accounts - both of them will be better than an imaginary box with an imaginary price.

A small portion of those accounts could have a stock-market value, or they couldn't, i don't really know more than i wouldn't bet the whole warehouse. I wasn't thinking about school boxes, but I'm willing to answer any questions.

Legal Disclaimer: Communist countries don't prevent capitalists from buying plain boxes, but some of those countries legislatively reserve the ability to prevent (true/private) [#discuss] ownership of plain boxes. Check with your local authorities to obey local laws, and if you can't buy a box get new authorities.

...and that's how you make healthcare affordable...

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Merlin 3:61 Love in a Burning Building

M 361: Love in a Burning Building

Lilith: Having fun, Merlin?
M: We never really get to enjoy burning cities too often!
L: I’m sorry, I was too busy talking to trees!
M: If I wasn’t wasting time succor to the demons!
L: I can’t hear you, I’ve been waxing poetic, bloody stupid namesake cambion!
M: If you weren’t so imprudent, you’d know the difference between rack-rent cajolery and portents of fate!!
L: You would, too!!

His hands and arms bloody she flies across the ground at him and shoves him thru a fiery wall into a scorching building. Wrestling in a pile of embers, they see amicable smiles on each other’s faces and begin to free themselves, she bites his wound and wipes the wound from his skin, the bloodstains on his arms become ashes in radiance of his tattoos now wrapped around her waist, a black tongue licking the blood from her fingers he is healed, the fire heats to slow rises and waves of sunset, her hair glows red and gold as her shadow hides him from incineration with diamond eyes.

Other buildings stand strong, raging hearts calm, a quiet soul excites, and many warriors check their wounds.
Agnar, giant, checks his bruises as a rare case for him to have any, as Jonak, hexer, wraps his own hand. Braden and Katina, shockers, take a seat and wait for Merlin.

Kat: Odd they socialize like that way. Why is that?
Brad: I don’t know; I think it’s exciting.

Kat punches him in the arm. There is dialogue and exposition among minions.
Nick, deathless, runs into the scene faster than his feet, the gravel rolls beneath his shoe tips as he turns corner, to save Merlin from the burning building, assumption of danger, but Belladonna, plaguer, stops him.

B: You can’t.
N: I’ll stop her and save him!
B: Everything is fine.
N: Nothing is fine! Move!

Belladonna doesn’t move and Nick collides with her to ground, enough that she poisons him in her defense, but her newly strengthened and uncontrolled powers poison him severely, as he falls she attempts to reverse his new death and cannot, his veins blackening roots, hardened tearing thru him as he struggles.

Belladonna: Somebody help him!
Agnar/Braden/Katina/Jonak: He’ll live.

Nick resumes from essence, taking energy from the fires Merlin and Lilith nestle with themselves and smile overly happy, she rises as Nick sneaks thru the rubble, already known by her she hears a first footstep and a second foot twist on the ground, but before Merlin and Nick can communicate, the burning building collapses on the three.

Lobo: He doesn’t know?
Braden: He doesn’t know.

Nick exits in trauma come rage as he crawls from rubble and ember, coughing thru the smoke from his clothes, egregious scars of burning heart and emotion, now in livid accost ire precious little restraint, standing before Lilith wrapping sooty cords around burnt linens, as does Merlin in standing beside her. He realizes they are not enemies, nor the salvation affordable only to Ana, immolator, captured by Sino.
Nick runs again, this time stealing a sword and cutting a horse from wagon to pursue, shouting back at the crew hauling the blade.

N: He has Ana – I run him down – with or without you!
L: AFTER THEM AND YOU’RE DRAGON FOOD IF YOU LOSE HIM!

The wolf-men run toward the end of the city, howls gather beasts in entourage into the sea hills to the sound of tears of those who’ve survived, the hooves of horses of Braden’s impromptu cavalry, and flames that toss like ship sails as Lilith escapes Merlin thru a wall of fire into another dimension of black fire and winds of darkness.

/ch

Contrivant

If Cronus permits, I'm donating O+ when this entry goes live. Speaking of which, did you know you can save more lives donating blood to RedCross than repeating #FakeNews you've heard on the tv/web? Click to learn more. and follow @RedCross

I'm not going to generally be worried about this next part, you can quote me, i feel safe saying what I do.

The spectator patriotism of raunchy dissent from liberals over the rule of law that approaches their fair-whether sense of smell, considering the last eight morose years, is absolutely delightful. Uninterrupted sentences giving me liberty to not be interrupted is a bliss, i rarely get to argue that the problem is endemic of the Tourette's, and not the other way around. I forget what I was saying, moreover, it sparks the manipulative side of me, as it does the motivating row in political diatribe, like an outright tantrum when it's just a game.

I'm in a reading mood, perhaps I'll start with the pale classics and work my way clockwise.

Too much acid burdens the skin, weakens the body's cells inside and out to cancer, and we must be clean. So we drink the proper ph water and eat the proper foods, in too much meat we could scour the brain, but what if it were not enough vegetation, all that growth needs. It would take years for me to taper-off into eating only old growth, the remnants aiding life. What I feel is mine, my opinions, you cannot have them, I am not a sign on your journey, there is no perfect score to an incomplete test written by assuredly an imperfect person. If they cannot harvest, and knows not why, then might must be an option.

That must be it, the masses don't contribute to creating the remedial tests they take, whereas life is a test, they contribute as much.

I hope this finds you well, like taxes or stupid opinions, it's a tea whistle added to a crashing spaceship. There was this talk of fascism, not being sarcastic, I just don't think you ever adjusted out of the irony equation of a larger function. Fascism is more akin to corporatism and union prevention, nobody came to take your right of assembly, nobody came (hold on, didn't mean to make this so adult) and enforced a welfare-state that legitimized generational theft on a governmental level and with precision at an educational level. I'm getting ahead of myself, the healthcare companies wrote the healthcare laws, the lenders wrote the lending laws, the taxers wrote the tax laws, and it doesn't apply to them, that's literally fascism. You could get a stolen café espresso on your way out of Mussolini's house.

I'm not really giving anything away, i have the psychic version memorized and the physical version hasn't been written.

You can't hold your breath forever, you can't speak forever, breathing out is breathing in, and vice versa, this is equanimity. Active breathing proves much and learns little, stress brings deeper breaths, you can't be surprised at how others breathe unless you weren't paying attention. This starts to border on the tantra. but if you can't breathe i'd breath for you.

"Change - and everything is change; Nothing can be held on to - to the degree that you go with a stream, you see, you are still, you are flowing with it, but to the degree you resist the stream, then you notice that the current is rushing past you and fighting you. So swim with it, go with it, and you’re there. You’re at rest." ~ Alan Watts 

Curses / Maldition

I must've been tired so I wake before the three alarms set to make sure I do anyway. Sleeping too warm without sweating, I need water, my head is dry from ear to ear, I turn a slow tide into movements into taking a drink of a mixture to drink before a workout next to the bed, my blood warms and get hungry before I can cool, feeling starved I rock myself out of bed and walk to the hall, the main room, the kitchen. I'm staring at the fridge again, the light actually, wondering if I should be lost in fridgelandia with headphones and music to help me choose, not a good idea to have breakfast carbs, too much effort to make bacon so soon before having to wake up, a whey powder mixer would be in order, something filling to take a nap. It hits my stomach like straw in a furnace, two and a half hours is almost like three i convince myself and I close the cold door.

Only a streak of night sky enters the room, it is too late for me to stop it, if I had only been rested I could prevent this. A man is standing next to me in my kitchen, I blink and get attacked before I can open my eyelids in less than a second, the fear is enough to make me faint tears into every part of me.

I wake in my own blood, it's everywhere, and I'm late for work. I put down anything red over it, wiping counters, hoping to call it laundry day if anyone were to notice. I put on my 'I'm late' sports clothes and run to the subway. Seven long stops away and the entire trip I can't stop looking at other passengers by the reflection of the windows. Flipping thru the songs on my phonecard I realize that my headphones are broken so i throw them away, distracted with another reflection I miss my trainstop, so i run to the street to angrily spend good money on a cab. Distracted again my phone vibrates but there's no ringtone, I must've turned it down checking the headphones...nope, audio broken, I'll have to get a new phone, it's my friend at work calling.

I've been scratching at the glass and the cab driver is hollering at me for the fare, he pounds on the plastic wall and I pay him with my hard earned cash, I should spend it on something else, "i grew up in a town with a butcher" I tell the fat cabbie as I stop to notice the plethora of buttons and stickers in the middle eastern versions of classic redneck slogans. I bounce out of the seat, no tip, it's, my, money.

Suddenly I'm in board meeting on the top floor, standing around one of the longest tables I've ever seen, holding a clipboard ready to take notes, I look at my paper while most are trying not to look out the windows, I see the city, I see the first letters of each word followed by a drunken drifting cursive, and when my friend notices he gives one of those faces and I hold it to my chest. The CEO is giving a tirade about the tirade of another CEO at another company and on a good day I strive not to throw him thru the glass, I'm not really understanding the synergy message and nothing can stop me from scratching at the back of the clipboard.

I'm leaving the meeting and I don't know how things ended, there's my friend, he's smiling and agreeing with me somehow, my automated response must be appropriate, I'm getting pieces of a joke about bipartisan politics, I know how this one will go, I'll take the bait, I take the bait and nod, I begin saying the first word that comes to mind and in the first sound he's praising me, I feel like a dog that only gets his own 'name' and things like "bacon" or "outside" as he speedreads his own dialogue.

We waited for the small C-Suite elevator and now we're heading down ten floors to the plebeian interchange, before lowering to the role-playing fantasy that are the misty peon levels, where we'll swipe a card for great company coffee, one of the perks, it doesn't taste great and I don't know why, but my friend shares empathy with my facial expression, I wish someone would tell me why there are so few people, those people cluttered by the elevator door have the right idea.

We queue for the lower levels drop, my friend punches me in the should asking questions, harmless question that help him learn more about me, I answer and realize my hearing is out, water on the ear after a cold morning perhaps, damn, my headphones weren't broken, the elevator fills and fills too much, my friend and I have to wait for the next one. We wait, we enter, the doors close, I tear into my friend and in a struggle the guy I know works in the mail room, what was he thinking being here, this is my elevator, good old what's his name, there is blood everywhere. I'm sitting cross-legged on the floor of the elevator eating brains, I press the emergency stop button and a red light takes over the white halogen. The elevator music is back, one of those popular annoying songs that everyone sings when coworkers go out, recreated with a piano and sounds of bells, not as bad as them singing, my friend is delicious, I bet that guy is delicious.

It's time to stand up and brush myself off with gutsy hands that make more of a mess, I'm very calm, this is never happened before, never this calm and never an elevator bloodbath, i think i'm almost smiling, I've to abandon my entire life and run from the law because of that camera in the corner of the elevator, but i'm smiling, this is nice, i wonder how many cameras are in a building on average. I pry open the door, i'm kinda stronger now, i'm already hungry now, i know this feeling now so much i cannot forget it ever again, i peek around the doorwell, i lick my fingers then make a dash into the empty area, i steal a coat to cover myself and leap back out of the small office.

I can't remember the night before, i feel terrible not knowing, i'm in another cab tapping my fingers on the seat, bouncing my heel on the floor, at my building i'm so ready to leap from the window of the cab, no tip, it's his money, but i need the cash now more than he does, into my apartment, the mess is still there, this is damning evidence that adds to the cameras, i mail my important things in carboard to a PO box, i'm prepared for this sadly from online paranoia, wow i was really paranoid, i grab my three, count them three, split kits, my tech, i'm not even scarred, not knowing what happened is giving me more fear than anyone, i hear footsteps in the hall, i prepare for intruders, with none I leave, this life is over and i'm good with this, this is absurd, i just start walking to the worst part of the city that i can remember, i'm already starving again



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