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…art is Anal…

…retaining all the details is difficult to say the least because our mind allows for a capacity of certainty possibly unheard of by even digital or mechanical means of measurement in this day and age going by so fast that no one person could ever keep up as technology and intelligence rage that quickness faster forward than anyone ever could have understood from an earlier standpoint in the pursuit of a definite truth and curiosity to know more than seems necessarily likely or plausible to a wider scope of view while experimenting in experiences attempting to categorize nature and its creations entirely Here, we emulate the process of creative struggle so often it has become a trope among squared-off stiffs who pick apart things critically impressing labels upon scanned items of assumed values that perhaps make no sense in the real world around us always so tight it’s almost choking us out in our obsessive compulsive consumerism driving supplies and accompanying demands to try commanding chemically-saturated crowds through their appetites as cravings for something other than being happy with themselves sedentary lifestyles that put up little to no resistance making a crazy world crazier when there are fewer people trying to reestablish some kind of connection again, whether to nature within ourselves or outside manifested in the external things and places being evidence against those core solipsistic idealizations where everything might seem projected from our heads and unreal even though they most certainly are part of the tapestry of fractal compositing Here within a holographic universe not always in lock step with itself as momentous occasions come and go through the vortex as portals to another form of dimensional dementia that plays on our old ideals whose energy never voids or snuffs out… intent instead can be resurrected time and again as motions pass through squelching beyond thresholds whose warm darkness excludes an exterior value those bio-electrical cables wedged up my ass attached to my soul harassing input out of me in the applications hardwired to assault the senses whether there is compliance of captive attention doing the most we can until we are left out fatally in the fetal position vulnerable to further degradation feeding us forcefully a diet of worms and services by others whom know not with what we have to do to survive because a template of wellness is fitted over twisted perceptions prescribed, as though able to shrug off the labels of shallow degenerate or idiot so easily when no one seems to give a damn about anything that doesn’t make them wealthy or respected establishing clout among those that cannot sympathize with such a climb upon the hierarchy of life as fabricated to fit being where Here places them at the fulcrum collecting crumbs using symbology and primal signals containing inexplicable experiences of value exchanged for powerful weapons and infamy all the same roiling just underneath the surface of the human voyage striking terror in those not ready for metaphysical transit yet, sass splotch stays livid archaic in pathways that speak of neural plasticity affecting in all formats of conscious appraisal weary of contrived pretensions that curse objects before they even have had a chance at spinning gossamer into woven crafts that warp and weft the mind into being aware of many coordinate layers all at once never repeated and never reversed as multiplicity shatters the mold trying to process the progress we have made on any scale done to dubious quality used Here to mass produce cheap imitations of a still life yet to breathe through this dense irreversible short destiny as artifact…

thanks, khet_:/