All The Wrong Topics dot com

One hundred and the ones.

what is this cash and the Christmas eve chiming jingles and bellowing carolers in the holiday gloom as things die and we mark the occasion in the sky with bright rhinestones to light up the night, but even with less air and more water required to breath in the humid skin of the righteous agent of sinful wages binged on and purged upon your linoleum floor sight of a twisted brain matter dark and fecal now occasionally gathered at the edges of yet another living chapter of the epic human saga, as we are Here to “fuck shit up” while at the same time center and train the parts of ourselves on a particular objective in ways both trivial and absolutely necessary like the idea of materialism we have grown to abuse in the wake of all agricultural and industrial and digital revolutions that have occurred as anchors with all these parts attached to foster the difficult-to-describe choices we have made as a species in distorting this reality and others out of our own wicked sense of justice… the myths and issues that lure in the psyche from afar capture thoughts of those of us undisciplined and novice on this planet of apocalypse-wasted messages spent with misunderstanding for all potential possibilities that contain us and our myriad tragic ways that are both of a good and evil dichotomy functioning on corpses and survivors to get away with its torture of truth and the Muse, and yet the other end of the spectrum beckons as equally plausible a turn of events as those very same tragedies on the verge of occurring are warm places to release the burden of active drive and participation in this reality to fulfill that strange and ancillary role that symbolically is represented by lines of code or some system of gears moving the myth from one homogeneous massive to the next piece… a suffering motion that sacrifices a part of itself for the consistency of recreation in hope that something better than will appear before an end as the ages struggle to digest all the details within this viral creature manifesting through our behaviors and interactions with each other, i cough into the mouth of the microphone for radio silence from all my fellow transmitters in the out there that you could reasonably figure was due to our consuming of all things Here in a service to disease, and we are taking the organism very seriously to the point to where stress and pressure pump the vessels to burst as a form of an odd population control always looking for volunteers but eventually settling upon whatever it can get as we all seem to pop and burst one by one from this “perfecting” state that the machine is trying its best to enact against the great human cycle to commune and interact with one another properly so that all are participating with energy whether as performer or observer and alternating as the interstices between spaces need from its conscious steed… our crowns make us the monarchy over our own souls and bodies as gateway for the consciously aware that few can claim to ever have achieved completely while incarnated as this human being physically as well as in outlook, acting as the “thinking motion” for all words and delivery of all natural semantics between contextual clues and those dead senses now abused by the vampiric captive this human had been until the Now captured by an idiot gag order keeping the magic buried by jargon and binding themes that hide the truth from eyes that wish to see, and not just masking the many realities through the written strokes either as much as the moving pictures in the modern theaters today taken for granted by the herds madly consuming this sniveling drivel regarded as another prestigious formula mocking the mature conditions that are revealed through the experiences as they gather at the feet of this organic machine’s pseudo-conscious assembly… a ‘body without organs’ lives in the phase space between material and farthest extensions on the imaginal territories of dreaming things, it is this in which we are the egg always hatching always becoming something more than merely this thing that sits Here before you, and your consciousness sees what eyes and other senses can only hint at with some semblance of the awareness that it holds with the collection of potentials not completely disconnected from the physical frame… in “becoming”, one has to actively experiments in the virtual dimension with this ‘body without organs’ as a vast reservoir conjoined with other ‘bodies’ to reach a certain ‘plane of immanence’ or existing that stands opposite to the idea transcendence on this material earth, and even in this way the earth is one of the largest ‘bodies without organs’ that we ever be able to fit into a cosmic but limited vocabulary to fitting the strange group dynamic growing fast into something much more than the perceptible Self manifested to master the test…

Thanks, khet.