Prima Facie

Prima facie nuncum mea culpa. [Recant]

The... melancholia strikes me two ways, it's as a sineater a blasphemous regret read failure to learn-from, now so much instropective a miasma of plagairism the retention of an idea, and as something cloying and toying with me to understand, at face value a remuneration as I'd put it, which fascinates a tactical hindsight, a puzzle of its own distraction. 

A beginning reborn in the dying light, a pattern-based dillusion of the intrepid and grave corners of the mind -- an irregular regulation, an illogical logic, a crow's eye made of light come harrower of harbinged intellect against the comoflauge of perfect reflection. 

As it takes place one third of the story strewing and recurrings recrued this I know as much as you. These things, what would ask of late, whence would ask of where. 

Some time since writting one of these posts the blatant nature of attitude and ego where the imagination simply wonders at daydreams' power to hold or root responds to the self-same morality of kith and kin, more so than the impetus of the title. 

A daydream melody echoes as the multidimensional, itself a sphere of influence spinning like a celestial body, the waves of the cosmos singing in colors, the echoes of eternity glowing as waves of the universal, the prism of conscience from each mind projects its dreams toward the stars, sonic tides and waves an eminating signal to which we all replace the absence of strategy. 

I spoke to my... about the white place, learning from my given mentor, this of thoughts was unweaponed in lieu of intellect, this then of my dreams came with crushing morality, but only as a respite from immorality, sans desperate narcisistic distraction this electric place of tv snow and images burning into immediacy, was lost, and of reverie a training ground defiant of unchangeable memories and actionable past. 

From life I tell you -- past is progress, present is existence, future is endeavor. 

A viceful sits and gleefully spites one day, their mind a light in the infinite wavelength of colors, the spectrum of which is more vast than the cosmos that cutely blankets the temporal plane; they stand still in their avatar within the mindscape, glowing, described one way or another some different logic/word and later, dreaming the swift are all that are in their daydream and using description as a weak replacement for thought. 

Then of the habitful, to which sees great strides and strife as much as writing this may be sleepful and asunder, in these times of returning to realities; in no less than a parable of watching a second on a clock, longer for the first make, for that time changes our lives, each trading revelation for reverence of a screaming light, the truth that insomnia has come. 

In the loo wondering why the walls at work have art, and the ones in public don't sign "Art Only, All Else Erased." 

The keys fly faster than I can crawl. The graffiti of ancient Pompeii is the same 2K years later, and from a natural catastrophe they at least ran, today, we've so much to do without keyboards. 

/br

A Cup In A Waterfall

Logic will do to chaos what spirit does to warlords. Considering that if their debates were instantaneously turned into a game show they'd all be sent home early.

It's my belief that dark matter is the water, and the big bang is just a bubble of light matter on the surface of our omniverse pool, that would be just about big enough to make us small enuf to witness a blackhole as the invisible gravity that pulls against the smallest states of matter, and that we're inside the atom, and viewing it simultaneously -- and I'm still kinda loving the idea that black holes are the byproduct of really fast space vehicles and we just lack a complete picture of how space and time work. 

Hell the idea that the deep has little between worlds it's not much different from society. The middle ground of space and time, I kept thinking until I was thinking. I kept listening until I was listening. 

Two enemies in the light and truth, the scarcities of reason, the scarcities of resources, and in that act, being the enemies until they were enemies. It seems disturbing to peace and long life that two worlds would be one war. Needless to say that the cost of your own ranks means you weren't meant to lead them. 

Now onto the ones afraid of laughter and standing. The subject, in the old sense of the word a person is subject to rule from another, would be forced to joke until the warlord laffs. The warlord, would have to stand and find something entertaining. One learns to speak to fight, one learns to fight to speak. 

There is a fun game of words called Improvement. Two warlords sat drinking tea, in a monastery far from their homes. They decided to discuss the shadow downhill until they could truly be discussing the shadow. Then decided to discuss the growing grass until they could truly be discussing the grass. The name is the rule, improvement, and serves as the basis of conversation. In order to be wise enuf to debate or conversate, they made rules against disagreeing. Only statements of perception, this improves communication -- and only questions, this improves perception. 

One very much loved shade and all shadows, and the other very much loved grass. 

Blades of grass grow in light. 

Blades of grass grow in light making shadow. 

Shadow of night lets grasses cool. 

Shadow of night lets grasses cool while they wait for the sun. 

They argued and argued for twenty days, but in the spirit of improvement, so that their armies wouldn't fight until they were just fighting, so their armies wouldn't die until they were just dying, the two philosophers never got emotional. 

Understanding they are very much two different people. 

Understanding they are very much two different people, with important different perceptions. 

There we are, left to understand that the two philosophers found a fusional goal, the way fog surrounds what we can see, and covers what we can't see. Our memory is synthetic, not a photograph. This risk of passing bad analytics, or bad logic, we can pass to ourselves. Analyzing sometimes takes the form of doubt, the way fog also reveals nothing. So it is, the vague image of peace had to be held in their focus until the fog lifted when they could truly have peace. 

Words have power and shouldn't be wasted until they are truly wasted. Your memory is a cup in a waterfall. Learn to learn, drink good memory until you can drink the river of time. Toss bad memory until you can fill the space. 

A blade of grass does not steal the light any more than a brilliant star steal darkness. And when a star dies, the other stars don't share thr light, they become one, as they shine until, they are shining. As two, as one. It is that nature is the governing principle that we should strive to be natural, not at each others throats. If you all need to collectively worldwide meditate maybe you should try something easier first, like tea or waterfalls, instead of blades and darkness. 

There will be time and space for that until there is only time and space. 

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

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.





.....

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 

Discontentia

The only place is the populace, the public house for privacy, to leave the secrecy in code; that place where conversation begins, a beginning of peaceful terms, and in this awakening where I share information only, those will not be endorsement other than their vessel, empty by the way of the dharma, delivered by the tao, and given to karma in all modes.

Wake, wrench your muscles like clothes of the spirit, prepare your coffee and envision nirvana, then do your taichi motions. When finished, drink your coffee and meditate on the western paradise.

Pack tools and archives, clothes and medicine, go and make plentitude in service to all modes.

Sample tastes and reflect, strengthen according to needs, have tea and be mindful of your thoughts; enter the vehicle of your transformation and continue to grow, avoiding attachment to gravity lift and be seen; feed your body and mind.

Plan ahead, revise your schedule, and establish yourself; watch success in action, study knowledge, find questions in lessons, make notes and complete goals; hunt your next target.

Yoga, code, write.