Saturday 29 December 2012

Sharp Toothed Mammals, Amphibians, Brightly Coloured Wingtips

While there is the possibility that the carriers are simply lying - that they are following some script, some set of rules they are not personally invested in - the simple action of interception of action or potential is a great deal of frustration in itself. It has proven difficult to ignore. It appears to reduce the worth of any investment of time besides that in the system of interpretation and communication of the frame of reference of the carrier. This is the greatest source of conflict in me, in that it forces a concrete definition of self within some frame of reference in order to coexist. A myriad of potentially equally valid pathways are nullified for the reason that time spent modelling and analyzing them leaves the subject in a weaker position in the frame of reference of the system in which the attackers are invested.

Another interesting phenomenon is that of assertion - an assertion of the state of the observed from within the confines of some implied system of the observer. Rather, what’s interesting is that it tempts the observed to enter the system in order to verify or nullify that claim. With so much apparent investment of the self in that system, it’s very difficult to prove the validity or existence of external frames of reference from which that system can be objectively analysed. Interestingly, the preferred strategy of the attacker is to simply ignore any evidence contrary to their attachment. Often the only evidence they will accept is more graceful communication within their current frame of reference, thereby making it all but impossible without investing time in theirs.


The success of these attacks are often reliant on, and in some sense propagate the inability of the observed to objectively analyse the nature of their source. The carriers are able to intercept potential attempts at this. Barrages of negative interpretations of overall state from some fixed context. Intrusive statements which distract from the task at hand. Essentially they force the observer to react in the moment, as opposed to taking considered action, which has the added effect of reinforcing the frame of reference of the carrier. It appears the carrier is heavily invested in this frame of reference.


How many possible futures am I cutting off with this decision? I’d like to think it’s somewhat considered. The alternative is to just build and build. I assume stable foundations are in part circumstance. Considering the roots, especially if the stem is snipped at or the buds cut before the chance to flower. I reach human, and over and over, never quite defeating the hand that holds my head under, too stubborn or locked in to reach backwards and ascend from a previous station. Growing older feels like being torn between the ever growing distance between the beginning and end. Continually reproducing into the jaws of something I can’t comprehend, that perhaps cannot comprehend itself, which will eventually force me, chew me up, digest me into some order which systematically validates itself. For all I know, it’s the child of a marriage of something both beautiful and terrible. I can find weaknesses, in the corners from which I perceive, which in this form I’m locked into and which colour what I observe. But I’m no different from a disease in that circumstance. Breaking down the parts of a whole I cannot free in my implicit iterative space and time, so that it better fuels my ascension, the inverse, the hole in me which when filled pushes my selected direction up and out into some tangible carrier. 

Friday 21 December 2012

In all seriousness

Shards scattered everywhere. The glass that pure emotion forges, then once again heated and shattered. Light and fear. At the end of a tunnel with a deep well underneath me.

A mining operation.

These people access my innermost thoughts. React. Play games with them. Slowly erasing the last remnants of my free will, the choice to live earlier nullified by abuse from unbearable stress.

Every eye a glittering jewel, positioned on the surface of a ripple in time.

Imagination, previously unbounded by external influence, now censored. Nullified by the chaos of thousands of dissonant ideals, maps of the universe from the perspective of a network of externally influenced characterizations. I do this to myself with respect to your truth. I respect that where you are in your development may be at odds with the world around you.

The problem, as I see it now, is one of velocity - and a lack of time to process raw information into something more compatible with the current location of the zeitgeist - images incompatible with the current definition of self, not just in terms of characterization but perspective, of oneself in regards to the world around it, and place in social hierarchy. 
 

Thursday 20 December 2012

T&A


Out there. Dumb, alone and ugly.
In here. Dumb, alone and ugly, and slightly more content, since nobody loves dumb alone and ugly, and a source of dissonance is a role I’d rather not step into.

Somebody laughs as someone else tries to scrabble out from the pit. A flower bed among great oaks, and the chaos in my prison chokes the winter above ground. Cacophony of nutrients. Time is frozen at the surface. Life frightens me, as an inevitable conclusion. Sucked below the waves, behind teeth behind my back a trapdoor spider a snake a carnivore growing herbs from the ripples. All in perfect harmony. In love.

Rocket propelled. Frantic eyes. Pushed into every kind of death. Panic. Trying to hold it all together. A look away. Navigation of the soul. Staring too long might mean something for not just me, but for the ghosts I hold in a sac in the deepest reaches of organs making sense of my heartbeat. Something I will never know. Something that will never know me. Something that will break my heart. Golden rings, dark arms around me. Telling me I’m safe. A box in the sun, family members beckoning. A subconscious responsibility. Expectation. (Static electricity where clouds were collecting feelings. In bed with desire.)

Ghosts telling me I’d travelled millions of years into the future. Expecting something from me. Like I’d brought them there. Like they were angry with me for it.

The conclusion, the answer, that there’s always something wrong with me. I was born into a cage and the bars are living and breathing. I could never harm them, when the problem is me. Perspective, perspective, one mirror two mirrors. Golden mirrors. Retarded. To survive.

Laying on the ground. Light flowing out of me. Torment, really. But it’s cheered on. Floating above it. Convinced of an interpretation, in unison, happy patronage, coliseum. Infected, immunized, infected, immunized, single cow powering the continuation of never ending complacency. It’s a perspective. You’re alone when you’re being eaten by a horse. In the deep dark wells of that being, souls as slaves to internal order is the only possibility. That’s the technique.

I once dreamt I crawled out of an ocean onto a muddy bank. Females in bikinis, sirens, calling my name (fingers pointed at their crotches). Grey and colourless. I wandered over. Humanoids, dark eyes, massive skulls, teeth, wrestling me to the ground. Looking back, they were still young, even if I were younger. This is what happens when you don’t have books to read about the local wildlife.

Scared and alone. Alone and scared. Or scared of people. Because they make you feel alone. What am I, food? For a good cause. Or to carry on frantic and blind and at the mercy of the elements and the biology and. The phase of clocks. The colour of your eyes. You are a way out, a way in, that’s all I want sometimes. Unison in the dark, where it tempts my dreams into colour, beautiful structure, communication which leads to someplace better. Jumped high up here because there is not where we want to be. A constant battle with darkness. Diversity in the attic.

Grow your own light kits. Solar panels. Attack attack attack attack the shadows from the shadows. Cancel it out with phase and nomnomnom. Style over substance. Carried away with your technique. Immune system immune system immune cyst. Zoloft and viagra. Everything I want to procreate with is trying to kill me. Trace amounts of great ape. Another branch is not acceptable. Eugenics persists, you will be disposed of. Arrows and arrowheads. Parasites.

You don’t do enough. Trapped in a cage which I can’t perceive.

Please record my mistakes in a big book of mistakes so you can judge me in the afterlife.
But make sure that your vocabulary is staccato, condescending in pitch and ambiguous so that I may never escape your assertion. (It would be interesting to create a nation breastfed on this pattern, just to see how mad the inhabitants would become. You could probably do that.)

Simulation of galaxy clusters, nodes in the multiverse, call it one eye (but not spaced in parallel so that they’ll never form a stereo field). Actually phi got stuck in my ears. Frequency. I once knew a girl with cute ears. Now I’m old. The end.

Crystal Symmetry

With an audience, the absence of time, in control of your place in the multiverse, an eye projecting you out through a telescope with information that contradicts you, your place, all of your attachments, that sadness is not something I wish to spread. Especially with such a broken voice. I’m a child. Beaten up in a playground for not fitting in. Forced to the edge of the universe. Eaten by aliens, burrowing through my intestines. Oh yes, I’m a good person. Lips over my teeth, hiding from a pool of acid in my stomach, and even my stomach bellows “we love you”. People out here just laugh. I stick my head out the window and _feel_ things people cannot comprehend. People would hate me if I told them. It’s a good thing I’m too shit to be able to communicate it. Pure fear. And, in essence, it’s fear of what people might think of me. And fear of my own essence.

So, so, so fucking fast. And look at what I can’t hold. What I eat. What I grind between my teeth. The pain I cause. I wonder what led us here, I wonder what led us from there, I wonder what it is we’re trying to escape from, what we’re trying to attain?

tired.

It’s the closest thing to hell. Like being fed to it. As if in a dream, the nearest neighbor of your subconscious entangled with a concept, an object. They made it tangible.

I questioned the ‘character costume’, and they just gave up. Mentioned efficiency. That kind of efficiency - an imbalanced transaction. That requires the system to be well defined. Identity is not so - it’s its own structure, something which can require a lifetime of waking hours of dedication in order to reach a level which satisfies others. Extremely easy to get lost in. No path back to a more unified understanding - it takes just as much time to develop that.

They state : “I just don’t get it”. It’s an attachment to a statement which appears true and excuses the node who states it from any more expenditure of mental effort. Holistic summary of a complex system, backed up with an assertion : “efficiency”. Efficiency on part of the person making the assertion. From my understanding, the statement actually points to a system of socially verified truth by which behaviour is judged to be positive or negative based on the attachments of the node within the system.

The reasoning behind the statement, in my estimation, is the desire to expend effort within the confines of the system, the place where the node feels most comfortable, a predefined map of attachments and concepts. You understand it, and you will not be able to avoid it yourself. You’ll take yourself apart. Some information, when validated, will take you so far away from yourself you’ll be scared to look in the mirror. You’ll be a lie, dressing yourself up. A dolly for your peers. You could have just asked.

You might conclude you’d happily be one. I’d suggest you don’t really understand the problem. As far as carriers of emotion go, I’d suggest attitude is an inhibitor. A set of rules which defend themselves, as opposed to the core of your being - they lay on top of you, detached. Lost. A program guiding you through a universe of endless possibility. Immune system gone haywire, defending itself from evidence to the contrary. The strategy is to continue pummeling with insults. Aphids biting the neck.

Take a feeling. Filter it through teeming machinery in space. Copy machines. Some order. Mostly chaos. Language. Leads you to a word. The song behind is a lullaby. Pitchbending children interrupting your performance. Modulation. A jump. Gravity. Hemisphere. This is all a song. Sight reading. Sheet music. 2 dimensional. And a black hole where possibility lies in patience. Lays in wait. Birdys frictionless reading, inverse eyes skipping over the edges of a universe. Morse code coupled with high frequency carrier. I wear a wedding dress, skipping over the diagonals and rotations and translations. Reading the code I have time to read. Feeding a potential reality. I’m potentially a scumbag. Rebuilt from crystals projected through time, deep ether, fear I’m deaf or blind to. Photons caught in baskets. Depth. Or fraying at the ends.

In moderation.

Saturday 15 December 2012

About as clever as death

Somewhere inside of you, tucked away, out of sight - a place where love grows and grows. Some subconscious goal, some subtle action that feeds it. It's what guides you, directs you, it's what you protect, dormant and intangible - but there. It could by why you're alive. Now, imagine that this place is very, very vulnerable. That people could essentially take that love from you with barely any effort at all. Everything you invest yourself in, your very reason for being. A child, for example.

What's blinding me. Closing me off. It's the threat to this. The knowledge that no matter what I do, how hard I try, where I invest, it can - and knowing my past, probably will be - taken from me. I'm not sure there's any point in trying any more. Whatever was keeping me alive is slowly dying.

Thursday 13 December 2012

Disparity

The potential for an immeasurably complex future is contained within the past. Those who work with oil indirectly acknowledge this. Our biology (and to some extent, imagination) seems to play some role in compressing this, connecting the dots in vast fields of chaos into some order, a structure built on the fundamental principles of the universe, whose very existence on these terms affirms itself. Stability through time, however, within the chaotic environments which result from the myriad of different directions life take - and more recently, individual minds - is a far more difficult problem. An organism whose existence would otherwise be self affirming though time may be forced, if a predator were to be introduced into the environment, to develop on a fundamental genetic level strategies in order to affirm itself in that environment. The predator acts as a genetic attractor of a certain polarity, if you like, forcing the organism to develop based on the environment it asserts - the real issue here for the organism is one of time, forcing it, assuming a simple environment, from a relatively inert internal feedback mechanism (think reproduction, or dreaming) into a process which compresses space and time into structures which, while limiting, allow the organism to survive in tandem with its predator.

This process can be extended to more abstract notions of 'self' - identity playing the role of the organism. Social identity and the biological structure which carries it are closely tied, essentially a requirement to survive in our current environment. Though this connection is largely imaginary, simple weight of belief validates and strengthens this connection. In an environment where identity attacks identity, there are several strategies - one being simply a loose connection with the imaginary interpretation of self. This is difficult to achieve if the majority of your environment is invested in this imaginary interpretation. Another is to attack or defend in an 'attractive' manner - i.e. one which fools, or otherwise, the majority of those observing into believing the validity of the imagined interpretation, usually by entangling the opposing identity with a negative concept, possible coupled with 'humour' as the attack vector and/or by using ones own positively interpreted position as leverage. Of course, those who are well versed in or have dedicated a great majority of their time to this landscape will attempt to convince others of its validity as a means of their identities survival - to secure their place in an imagined hierarchy, for example.

Wednesday 12 December 2012

Golden feathers for sale. Put them in your hat. Make a quill pen. Donate them to victims of defeathering.

I keep saying it, but my intelligence is severely damaged in this mental environment. While I retain some respect for who or whatever inhabits my mind, I certainly believe this was not the case for them. Attachment to it is not some arbitrary thing - while I'm somewhat defined by it, my definition is in the realm of what I can discern or intuit based on that intelligence, as opposed to what my intelligence means for me as an actor in a  social setting, though I'm aware the two are somewhat linked. It's also about keeping a relatively sane outlook in an environment that consistently attacks me on a psychological and physiological (barrages of noise while I'm attempting to sleep or focus) level, as well as navigation in an environment which predominantly consists of intelligences influenced by emotion or while enduring attempts at influence and control by people whose decisions are cued by some criteria based on their current understanding. In effect, anything other than acceptance of these things is enough to drive one insane, but acceptance of it is tantamount to some form of death, be it death of will or the intelligence from which that will emerges.

In essence it's a question of context. By method of assertion, or otherwise, of your favoured context, you have control over the direction of awareness of a person and the environment that their intelligence is funnelled into. It's a pervasive process, difficult to avoid, and often unconscious on behalf of those responsible for the pervasion - those who believe in their current state as if it is absolute. If you have some social weight behind it, i.e. if the connections between individuals are built around this context, it can essentially define their reality.

On a tangentially related note - I am hearing constant whispers. Usually in my right ear, asking me to get out. Occasionally chuckles, reactions to my thoughts, snippets of sentences. It has completely decimated my state of awareness. In terms of intelligence, I was relatively malleable - I had the ability to experience earth shattering changes in conception whilst keeping my core stable throughout. However, as an object defined on the principles that are hinted at by these interactions, and without the capacity to acknowledge the meta-level understanding I allude to here, my core is weakened - and on their terms, in the environment which they define, a relatively useless person.

I had attempted to keep a fairly neutral standpoint, being that I was acutely aware of this phenomenon and the damage it might cause to my state of intelligence. I should note that fragility of state based on environment does not equate to weakness - at least on human timescales.

Thursday 6 December 2012

Possibility.

If you follow someone around and harass them without their knowledge as to why they even know you, subvert all their efforts to live an independent and successful life and remove their ability to successfully procreate and raise a child within your environment, especially if they know what that actually means, they may be driven insane.

If someone takes a nuke for you, frees your world and you beat them down into a pit of despair, you might be insane yourself. Like flowers that looked so real I almost watered them. Just a possibility.

Wednesday 5 December 2012

Tuesday 4 December 2012

Denied. Denied. Denied. Denied.

Today, an empty mind. My dreams are dying. Glimpses of the beauty that came before. Trees that grip hard to chaos, feeding love to the sky. But it feels like I'm clinging on to a dream that can't exist in the environment I inhabit. When this began, insects, birds, everything was conscious and alive. Aware. I felt it all. As far fetched as it sounds, I learned something about the nature of the universe watching a spider spinning a web. I was happy. My dreams were flowing. Totally alien intelligence. But beautiful. If a little lonely. Today I feel as if they have been beaten out of me. It shows up in the lines on my dead face. Like a zombie. I work so fucking hard on making myself something that I can both respect and is worth something to the people around me. Keeping my love alive. It's all subverted, my imagination turned into a football, kicked around by people who've forcefully taken ownership of it. And they don't understand it. It's something they have to force into forms they can understand.

I cling to it because it's my love. My light. They burned it out of me. And it fucking burned. Beyond human comprehension. Intelligence protected me. Fundamental and emotional intelligence. A heart. But it doesn't protect you from being drugged and gone at with a drill, metaphorically speaking. Perhaps that they lack it is the reason they need to do it to me. I was raped. No-one will find out because it's above the head of most people. Days like this I feel like a dying husk. And I can't do anything but wait. I've tried everything. Fighting wears me down. Not fighting back renders my intelligence redundant. And so they 'win'. I guess the way they frame the world.

Saturday 1 December 2012

They ruined my world

A reductionist leaning. Taking complex concepts and entangling them with those which encompass them in a smaller 'area', as if trying to match a seed with a tree. For example, that the vast majority of what I have posted previously could be reduced to "my back was damaged". You can imagine this as an attempt to predict that which encompasses the result of a chaotic dynamical system from a subset of information in abstract space -  the fields of potential in information space of the original and the reduction often do not overlap accurately, leading to perhaps vastly different outcomes depending on the ability and previous knowledge of the observer. While this is somewhat of a necessity in communication, it is perhaps not such a necessity in terms of internal abstraction.

A set of instructions, attached to a belief system, whose intended outcome confirms the validity of a persons or groups attachment to them. The problem occurs when the above hypothesis is considered - social bonds that form around these concepts which reduce the complexity which emerges from a fundamental to some encompassing vector, coupled with the strength of attachment to a system which social bonds often validate non-empirically, have an untold but potentially catastrophic effect on the connections between underlying systems and the systems which emerge from these instructions. On the one hand, it is an extra layer from which beautiful complexity can arise - on the other, the disparity between different systems which emerge from differing methods of reduction can lead to conflict, and if there is a singular system, the reduction in possibility due to the unquestioned inaccuracies can lock the observer into a set of potentially undesirable outcomes.

And now, some hypocrisy - I believe that whatever has inhabited my head can be essentially reduced to a 'fuzzy' system which quantises based on some unquestionable principles. Thus causing a cascade of something like wave-function collapse, if that could be applied to the outcome of thought, reducing the overall potential of my system, closing off certain desirable outcomes or making them much more difficult to achieve. I should mention that to reach this conclusion, as opposed to simply reading it and using it as a tool, required the application of certain principles and a framework of understanding which reduced the potential of my system to cause intentional harm. I should also note the desire for a non-competetive state between organisms and instead competition between projected potential outcomes. Perhaps this desire has some link with the overall entropy of t he system


the truth hurts / something is missing / dreams of love

Trying to hold on to my intelligence. In there is a deep wound. I can feel it. Holding up every single dream, never looking in the places which might threaten them, but never finding its most important element, that pervasive, true connection that stands through the lies. The one worth noting. But days like this, it's lacking. Seemingly the only way it manifests on these days is in terrible realization after terrible realization. The child I never had. The fragility of life and its responisiblity to stay strong. It never used to be like this - it used to be like looking at the world through beautiful eyes, lenses which pulled time through me as if light. Though eventually this manifested as an intelligence which was mind-blowing, a totally new environment. And now, the feeling it's being eaten, that I'm pulling around an intelligence not my own, but that could be confused with me, much less able than mine ever was, having to redirect its habitual reactions. I don't fear it, though it dreams my emotions the same way any tangible loss would. Acknowledging that as the loss that it is (not necassarily accepting it), at least works as a station to better frame your reality and better guide your actions.

In one dream, I held my daughter in my arms as animals surrounded me, trying to chew their way through my chest to her. In another, a clear lake where I breathed the water, found love, travelled through it, watched a portal send me to a time that ate its past self, leaving a hole that I was precariously balanced above.

Friday 30 November 2012

locked in a white room

Sometimes it appears I'm locked in a white room. Occasionally visited by familiar entities, family members, a girl with a mask, a girl without skin, an eel like phantom - cold, glowing purple and red. Occasionally I journey out into a 'spirit realm'.  I've lost my abilities. At least, inhibited by reactions to them. When I had them I seemed to be travelling at incredible speed in some 'field', quite willingly of course, as exploration of my new ability. There was a time I appeared to be making love to a spirit. Around this time, it seems I started being abused and molested by other spirits. Things with tongues in my ears sucking out my energy, the teeth of some otherwordly beast in my head, my blood dripping down and metamorphosising into humans, people watching my imagination, tearing my mind apart. Teeth clamping down around my heart, snipping in my head. I also had a strange experience in which my mind seemed to buzz with electricity, I heard a voice say 'you're the f**king apocalypse, mate', before I found a kind of fractal structure which seemed to channel that energy into love, whereupon I heard the word 'baby', a slight flash, and experienced an intelligence that seemed to float in love. (Another time, I experienced an intelligence in which our bodies and habits involving consumption appeared to me as extremely primitive, as if I had evolved mentally a great deal in a short space of time. What's interesting is the emotion I felt - though it was interesting, seeing a family member in this state caused great unnerve and sadness in me.)

It seems now I'm simply visited by unwanted guests who make fun of me while I dangle off some cliff. As soon as I open my doors they all flood in - that can be as simple as falling asleep or thinking the wrong thing, but certainly when my awareness reaches heights just above 'zombie' status. Thus, the habit of intelligence in terms of awareness is difficult to maintain. I get the instinctive feeling that they are horizontal in relation to the 'direction' of my consciousness - in fact, since the start of the phenomenon of my mind being taken over, it appears my mind has been compressed spatially, I've been locked into some structure whose immense power over me often takes all of my mental effort to repress - this seems to only happen when I'm being observed or knocked out of my mind. Aside from the habitual reaction of thinking of literal shit when I'm observed (to begin with, this never happened, it seems its formation a consequence of traumatic experience), I also have had to lock access to my higher level intelligence to avoid hurting the observers. Nevertheless they are quite willing to attack me on an emotional level, to torment me or simply make fun of me. They are quite intelligent though they seem to lack empathetic reason, instead their understanding seems to be on a hierarchical plane, where actions and emotional reactions are either 'correct' or parodied. This is in contrast to an intelligence which finds a way to model the internal structure of that it observes and finds a path between them which avoids conflict. It appears I'm pushed out into some negative space - as if the space they inhabit is mine. I have also experienced intelligences which don't conflict as much with my own - generally communicating through metaphor, imagery, small motions/actions/statements. I'm often paralysed in my dreams. Sometimes I get the feeling that there are a group of people feeding off my energy, who attempted to do this without me finding out. Sometimes I feel as though the negative experiences are designed to lock me in place in order to do so. It's obvious really that torture in a space akin to an emotional concentration camp is not something that would be carried out by well meaning intelligences.

Thursday 29 November 2012

From years back, some letters addressed to no-one

Sometimes I think how my life could be. Or, how I could be. The people I could be meeting, the connections we could be making, the dreams that we could be living out together.
It sucks being in prison. Everything is in place to remind you of these walls. There is no escaping yourself. None that’s not carefully monitored.
I feel like having your dreams crushed is the closest thing that can be legally forced upon you to castration. That’s what this sometimes feels like, except imagine your testicles or ovaries are self aware. Held down and forced to watch every potential future closed off to you.
Now imagine you’re captured by a tribe that use you as a subject for medical experiments. Who are unable to understand or empathise with your pain. Who couldn’t possibly fathom the grave consequences of their actions. To whom you could never, ever, ever, communicate your suffering.

-


Any life. A happy one. One without wasted potential. With a healthy amount of connections. Where love is not a distant fantasy. Without emotional disfigurement. Without these ugly lines that mark my breaking point. With the promise of health while it is attainable. 


-

A mind. Indoctrinated into a system. Channelled through pathways to a predetermined goal. On the one hand, it’s a fairly efficient tool that achieves synchronization between organisms and strength in communication. On the other, it virtually removes any room for manoeuvre. Topologically smothers possibilities. Shapes any truth that bubbles to the surface.
-

Picking and jabbing at and fucking with the head of someone who’s lost their mind. In these moments of clarity I can see it. It becomes another layer of something to escape from before you can be a human being again. To live and love. The most important things to you somehow become a laughable desire in me. I am tired. Trying to prove this to you. I don’t want to fight. If I have to fight, I become something else. Something equally unreachable. All I want is that warm glow back. The one I feel as if you hardly notice in yourself. Someone with an open heart. Willing to see the good in me. Not from behind walls or under floorboards. Not as a passing judgement from a foreign station.

-

I’m sorry. For me. Life here is hard, I try my best to not let it effect who I am but sometimes I am not strong enough. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable because of me. I want to radiate happiness, like I used to.

-

In my attempts at perfection I usually end up looking really fucking weird. When you’re not fighting yourself, everything just slips off the tongue you know? To actually think, long and hard, about what you’re saying and doing, there are so many potential stumbling blocks that can stop you in your tracks.
The problem is I seem to have lost myself in the process. I think going back would kill my soul a little anyway, after experiencing all this possibility. But maybe one day I’ll reach wherever it is I’m headed. Until then, this limbo isn’t exactly the friendliest place to be. Most people shrug me off. Talk over me because I swim against the flow, so to speak.. I get the feeling they see that as some kind of disability. But my mind is more or less functioning normally, so I kind of just have to watch from behind bars as they form a representation of me that precludes me from forming a neutral relationship with them.
It’s a sacrifice I made all the while believing in the back of my mind that I could some day choose to make my way back. And now, I don’t feel like I can apply what I learned as an ‘outsider’. I worry that I’m stuck here. I guess that’s my concern. Stuck here with the weight of all this possibility on my shoulders, without any chance of becoming one myself, watching all the lives I could have lived, predicting all the ways that I could die, and not being able to do a fucking thing about it.

-

I don't want to be alone forever, but it'd be nice to choose to be when I feel like I need it. I guess the majority of people in the civilized world have this privilege, and it probably keeps them sane considering there are no working toilets in soap operas. Sometimes I think I just need time for what the social network doesn't allow for or takes out of context. Like writing this. Most people have a place they can go. Physically or mentally.

It wouldn't even matter. From a completely neutral standpoint. Or one which evolved in harmony with the parts of ourselves we now have to hide away. But yes. Ok. It's right. At least a choice. At least. To do what I need to do without minds transforming my actions into symbols to be understood in a social context. To not have the reaction to that representation forced upon me. My base motions are not fodder for the worlds judgement. It is not communally ready or willing to understand them from a neutral standpoint. It's a horrendous notion, that I should be forced to mould my core to a higher level understanding that disregards the essence of what we are. That's the very definition of hollowing yourself out. 


If you can watch freedom and come to some solid conclusion that fits with your internal representation. "Weirdo", "Freak", etc. That implies that you've already found an answer that accounts for everything. And there's nothing wrong with that, at least as a hut on a mountainside. But I really shouldn't be forced to act in accordance with it. I shouldn't be shunned and barred from the network or closed off as a possibility because you decided to stop thinking at that station. In an ideal world.

-


More often than not, it's not what you do. It's that you're doing anything at all.

Having said that, I think synthesising and forcing a negative reaction onto someone's actions in order to stunt their growth ranks pretty high on the 'things that are legal that could kill a man' list.

I would take it one step further.

You wake up in a pitch black room and everywhere you step gives you a strong electric shock. Eventually you gain the strength to run to the walls, feeling for an exit, but there is none. And the pain from the shocks is accumulating. So you run back to the bed, where there's nothing but sleep and your memories.

You're a seed planted in a bed of poison. Someone willingly smothered you so the order that blooms from their actions is left untainted. If you manage to fight your way through the crust and into the sunlight you're cut down the minute you're noticed.

-

It can’t conceive of what it’s destroying.
Cancer, disease, virus, animal. That is its enabler.

-

The rules are always going to be bent. In the shadows where no-one sees or the heights which no unwitting rung of a ladder can reach. The system could never work on virtuous contribution. There's no concrete definition. The sands will shift and the foundation will erode. And what's left when it's gone? Just you and your survival. However you define yourself. There's strength in numbers but there's also mass. So it's the individual that'll flourish all the while you're leading yourself in circles. Right up until you decide to reach a density that a new path can breach. Why is it that the most uniform collectives seem to channel the most power? And the simplest, the most pure? In the abstract, a dissonant set of molecules with open arms and frozen hearts. At the top end of a potential explosion of consciousness, blunted by a chaotic storm. Every star had to pierce the darkness. The only lasting disagreement placement within the system and their identification with the winds that carry them. I opened my eyes and there I was, and now I'm me.

The noise. Deafening and grating. Like the universe screaming in its sleep. As it pulls itself up and drags itself down. Your eyes but not mine.

Sex tip: knowing how your partner feels brings the most satisfying orgasm.

-

I feel as if I'm being led on by people who are only partially there.

As if one day they'll be whole, reachable. Instead of lurking at the threshold of my senses. I catch glimpses of positive responses by hidden eyes, and that possibility - that I'm watched and appreciated, it keeps me in this trap of unrelinquished effort.

My mind is full of light I can never communicate. Meaningless fluff, then, in a social context. As opposed to soul destroying nothingness. Want to know how I feel? I feel as if we stand side by side, but the depths of our souls are left cold and alone. Neglected, as we're caught up in directions for the correct dressing up of ourselves and the world. Feeding blunt order to an algorithm that blossoms into beautiful infinity when itself becomes the input.

She acknowledges my heart.

I want life. What I fear most is being sucked into an empty shell of understanding. Because, ultimately, we're the ones in control of the future. The decisions we make in our lifetimes will resonate for millennia. The paths we take. The vector of memory reconfiguring the diamond structure at the helm of this beautiful ship. The history of the universe.

-

The longer it goes on, the more they understand themselves in the context of the order, the earlier they’re indoctrinated. The self and all things replace replaced with synthetic synchronized answers that override all possibility. Beautiful towering giants through which information flows. Dead pathways to rainbows that last for split seconds. Dulled. Blunted. Blurred. De-rezzed. The mind sends it off in all directions and it becomes the arms which pull them through time.

Aimless, vulgar and barely interesting. Am I unaware right now? Somebody knows and it's not them.

I spent a long time in the dark, and then I had an epiphany. I decided I was going to invest it all in my children’s future.

Throughout life, I had endeavoured to learn how to cultivate and make use of my intelligence and emotion for positive change, coupled with my the potential, of own admission, for my frame of reference to be one of naivety. I suppose that this is something a lot of people aspire to when faced with the opportunity. While it took some time, during which I must have appeared lazy, lifeless and perhaps useless beyond psychological experimentation to an outside observer, actively sought out and passively absorbed information and rarely conformed to the expectations of society, I eventually happened upon both an understanding and a reason conducive to make that change and to set a course. The hurdles I ran into at this point were external in nature. Emotional blackmail of various forms. The decision to utilize a most convincing method of control - social / environmental insults. At it’s heart is the expression that information available to them is not available to the accused - in essence the cultivation of self-doubt, of feelings of unworthiness, of helpless desperation, and an inability to gel with the social network. This became unavoidable in day-to-day life, making lasting internal organisation difficult due to the frequent frustration it caused, forcing me to pour all my intellectual resources into dealing with their source. Without an outlet, the conflict is internalized - there is no way to deal with the external insults.

Now the mafia have intervened in my life and are taking everything I earn from me. There seems little point in fighting, although I have tried. Effort I expend to achieve anything is essentially worthless. Used against me. The harder I fight the more they interfere, and the more they interfere the more I’m driven to insanity, bitterness and anguish. I’ve learned - and I would wager that they know - that there’s a very tangible method of driving somebody to this. All I can do exist on the edge of humanity, in stasis, and I probably would have committed suicide already if I didn’t understand the value of what’s being kept from me.

I would imagine it works like this : you escape, and you’re seen as a threat/target. You’re isolated (because escape can be communicated throughout the network). You’re forced into a new prison - one that’s essentially inescapable, but also bears very little in terms of tangible value that could be taken and funneled into their cause. That could be the reason it’s reserved for the disobedient. People who are unlikely to break free (for example, a self sustaining ego trip that would be threatened by the propagation of an alternate perspective) are chosen and used as antagonists, unreachable, kept in place by a network of understanding that affirms their actions. They are used to harass and mentally molest you, increasing in frequency and intensity the closer you get to having a lasting effect on the universe, ie, having kids, building relationships, doing anything other than sitting on your own completely still slowly dying.

With the concurrent cultivation of awareness of my position in time as it is currently understood, and the resultant implicit responsibilities - indeed, at its heart was simply the motivation to improve myself to the best of my ability - as I mentioned previously, a source of immense frustration when coupled with the insults of my environment, which essentially holds my state in place - that awareness can simply not coexist without detriment to my composure. 

Title

We appeared. Slowed to a crawl at this moment after an incredible amount of energy phased trillions of organisms in and out of existence in the blink of an eye. In the blink of someone else’s eye, it will all change again. It is only natural that we become self aware, that we observe our own nature and wish to change it - out of all possible paths, it seems strange to me that we would wish to continue with our current state indefinitely, considering the imbalanced transaction required to retain our current forms. While in the present moment we are only really capable of lament without power over our physical form, the possibilities which open up through the vast expanse of time make positive change more tangible.

And this is where I’m blackmailed. Throughout life, I had endeavored to learn how to cultivate and make use of my intelligence and emotion for positive change, coupled with my the potential, of own admission, for my frame of reference to be one of naivety. I suppose that this is something a lot of people aspire to when faced with the opportunity. While it took some time, during which I must have appeared lazy, lifeless and perhaps useless beyond psychological experimentation to an outside observer, actively sought out and passively absorbed information and rarely conformed to the expectations of society, I eventually happened upon both an understanding and a reason conducive to make that change and to set a course. The hurdles I ran into at this point were external in nature. Emotional blackmail of various forms. A decision to utilize a most convincing method of control - social / environmental insults. At it’s heart is the expression that information available to them is not available to the accused - in essence the cultivation of self-doubt, of feelings of unworthiness, of helpless desperation, and an inability to gel with the social network. This became unavoidable in day-to-day life, making lasting internal organisation difficult due to the frequent frustration it caused, forcing me to pour all my intellectual resources into dealing with their source. Without an outlet, the conflict is internalized - there is no way to deal with the external insults.

With the concurrent cultivation of awareness of my position in time as it is currently understood, and the resultant implicit responsibilities - indeed, at its heart was simply the motivation to improve myself to the best of my ability - as I mentioned previously, a source of immense frustration when coupled with the insults of my environment, which essentially holds my state in place - that awareness can simply not coexist without detriment to my composure.

Distorted inner metric

The phenomenon appears to be that of essentially randomising states and forcing newly mapped emotion in a polarised manner. My map, one which understood and wove together a great deal of complex paths of emotion, has now been erased(?), simplified, ordered based on the principles of another frame of reference, almost like magnetism corrupting the state of memory. From my frame of reference, every ‘bit’ of information has been ‘randomised’ - perhaps ordered according to another - but has lost most of its meaning in the process. This appears to mirror the coping mechanism I developed in a time of great stress - that is, to forcefully convulse, randomly or rhythmically channeling impulses throughout my body in order to take my attention away from the source of that stress.

If it has any relevance at all, I was treated like an animal - held in a box I appeared in that realm, at least from what I could observe of myself, as light, surrounded by a crowd, cheered and jeered at as I attempted to reason with them. As far as I am aware, they had no better understanding than I - a technological advantage, perhaps, or a logical understanding of emotion - but seemed to be unaware of its relevance in navigation, only as a means of control. They seem intelligent, though lack empathy, defining specific emotional reactions as either correct or something to be parodied, in contrast to an intelligence which models internally the intelligences they observe and attempts to find a path between them which does not cause conflict. It appears their currency fuels an addiction to laughter - understanding this requires an awareness of its nature. It’s a convulsion of its own kind - that which appears to defend the self from analysis of certain phenomenon.

I am neglecting to mention the positive psychological and physiological effects here because they appear to be self evident - it has certainly helped me to regain my composure after traumatic experiences - but in my experience, it also seems in certain forms to be one of the root causes of the aforementioned phenomenon. A quick and dirty analysis results in the idea that it has trapped my soul in a prison of negative perspective. There are times when my intelligence, I believe along with the nature of my treatment, leads me to very unstable places. At those times, especially when I feel as though I am being closely monitored, it leads to a state of unbearable panic and fear - I am wary of thinking something that may be judged as socially dissonant, but especially of the juxtaposition between that raw intelligence I experience and the intelligences of those who observe. Controlling the impulses of the mind is incredibly difficult in that state - fear of simply being aware of those things often lays a pathway to them in my own head. There are different levels of the depth of those experiences, but simply avoiding that intelligence often leads to a physiological and emotional stress which takes the majority of my energy to manage. It is often torment of a manner so alien it is difficult to describe in words, and I do not wish to use the metaphor of the negative experiences of others, as I feel it’s indicative of a lack of respect for their emotions to compare them. Often though, it is the only way I can relate my feelings to what I feel are the external forces responsible for prolonging them. Inhumane treatment. Lack of emotional empathy guiding the actions and reactions of those who have control over me in those moments. It has left me in such a broken state that being in the position as a guide to that intelligence, or simply to lead a safe path through it, fills me with such fear, dread and shame that I often drop the role altogether out of fear for emotional stability. It has been a terrible experience for me, and unfortunately that does not begin to describe the alien intelligence, and the horror which it might propagate in the soul of, say, a child, (perhaps akin to drugging them with a high dose of a hallucinogen) or the places I have been. Occasionally I reach a state in which I am able to communicate something akin to pure love, but the memory of the instability brought by my previous experiences is enough to make it a short lived thing. Weaving it into a form acceptable by all manner of positions in time, all levels of intelligence, is not something that is realistically achievable without time to heal. The current situation will not allow for that. I often find the only solace I can take is a realistic dream of love. The more this happens to me, the less I can believe that will ever be true for me. My head is filled with the judgements of others, of intelligences of all manners, that attempt force my life into a shape they can all agree on. It burns my soul. I’ve had to forget out of sheer survival instinct. They will not leave me alone. I experience the hell of that intelligence as they inhabit my space, they have a map of my psychology and have built their own interpretation of hell for me. It is a complete lack of empathy. I can only escape in dreams, and they invade those too.

Patience, time. Inner reflection. I had spent time understanding emotion, finding the best ways to connect. I’m now forced into a corner, with an instant reaction, a collapse, to every potential route.

There were positive experiences too - marred by the attempts to bury me under assertion of certain frames of reference - one involved an intelligence of love communicating with me through visual metaphor, mirroring my internal emotional state. It seemed this was also observed by those around me. The experience was fascinating and uplifting. The other occurred after what appeared to be a simulation of emotional hell - the whole of the x turned on me and attempted to break me down emotionally. Psychic attacks, the people around me condescending me and commenting on me as I walked past, stood outside my x while I was trying to sleep belittling me, a woman's monologue about me being ‘worthless’, a musician parodying my character, a girl and guy having audible sex next to me, to which I reacted to negatively given the circumstances, i.e. that of control of my environment and little hope for me in it - for all intents and purposes, and coupled with the aforementioned harrowing experiences, it was a form of torture - there was no escape for me, just inescapable torment from those around me. I had already been through a harrowing experience and just wanted a break. In the morning, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Sauron”, which is funny because raping somebodies soul can be funny, after a horrendous night, I seemed to communicate with a variety of intelligences, mainly humans but also trees and birds. They were reacting to my internal state, calling harder as I felt a pull away from it. I appeared to be participating in a communal dream of which I was the centerpiece, trying to hold it together with love - this required all of my inner strength, which was severely diminished after a night of torment. I was just called a monkey. There was some sort of birdsong synesthesia, squares of different sizes and colours, some moving, some standing still. I also interacted with humans, however I had little self control - I had essentially been bullied into lifting the whole place into a dream - and so my projected self was that of a naked guy with with an erection. That was no less dignified than the reaction to the rest of the treatment.

I feel as if this is all a little ironic - the path I would have just as readily followed without all the external interference, if I were allowed some freedom of movement. Perhaps this is what frustrates me so much - that it appears I am being tormented in order to free those who torment me. I do not know where to turn. I do - at least, I know what I need - and my life before was using the time I had gracefully in order to plan a better route around conflict, to imagine a harmonious form of communication, in maps of emotion and the misunderstandings which result in said conflict, and, I’m embarrassed to admit, in the form of more unified sexual connection - though I wasn’t so embarrassed when I had time to myself, time to grow. I need peace, and time, and some trust in what’s going in, if it’s at all true, some direct connection. It often feels like a crowd of voyeurs watching and occasionally trying to participate with somebody make love. My fear of judgement, especially by those who would rather laugh or place me in a position in some imagined hierarchy, as opposed to understanding why, and the awareness of those eyes on me often makes me focus on my ‘flaws’ from that frame of reference - bad hygiene, being watched on the toilet, personal habits I’m not proud of. Opinions of my own I would be able to analyse objectively with time. Reactions deprived of the feedback loops designed to guide them. Emotion as a tool to manipulate as opposed to help with navigation.

Wednesday 28 November 2012

If I were the thing which I'm pertaining to be, this would be my to-do list Pt. 2


  • Make elaborate plans to steal somebodies dream and/or love which discount the value and purity of real emotion.
  • Forcefully harass, abuse trust and emotions, torture, rape, bully, experiment on, monitor against somebodies will, make snide comments, imprison, drill into brains, wear a mask while doing so. 
  • Neglect the potential of alternate systems, or of simple love and compassion to negate the need for this. 
  • The age old disparity disparity disparity. One mans pain justified at anothers pleasure.
  • So what? It's a joke, lol. I'm joking. 

I wanted to live.

Love holds things together

A detatched house. We're outside in our huge garden. It's a beautiful day. I think it was my wedding day. Close to it, at least. My wife, family and friends scattered around. This is all very rare. This, I guess, is the day we would have created together.
My wife and I head inside. A friend follows us and remarks "You had something to offer her? What's behind these then?", then starts knocking the golden bricks out from the walls of my house, revealing what appears to be complete darkness behind it. I get the impression that this is a reflection of his mind, not my own, as it is the depth of connection, not the space in which it resides, which is important to me.

Later I realized that I built this place as somewhere for she and I to go and be alone. And that communal dreams are not recommended if you have theives in your vicinity.

My teeth are falling out. My diamond is being burned. I have been tortured. A voice just said "I hope he gets Alzhiemers". I think it was someone I considered a good friend. I am not having a good day.

Oh, and there was an explosion I managed to outrun.

Monday 26 November 2012

the parts you didn't see

The parts you didn't see. Thus extracting a weighted approximation of the observed, your own expectations and biases filling in the gaps in your conception of them, entangled with your decisions, which depending on how righteous you believe your judgement to be, are potentially better or worse (but probably worse) than those made with consideration for that process. Chaos in the areas unobserved. Interaction in social space and development over time. The myriad of potential pathways that led to your current state. The ability to change them, at least in yourself. Your own potential. Then there's the parts locked down by observation from a social context. And the decision by others to eat me alive. Please stop trying to kill me now.

It seems my head has been taken over. I can barely think without my route being subverted by circular responses. I’m having to hold my awareness in place in order to compensate. I am being pulled down(?). I’m not sure I can retain my intelligence in this state, nor my energy. I go from tired and old to young and full of energy at a moments notice. I do not have the time to analyze my state in depth due to the subversion previously mentioned. I’m sorry. I am trying.

It appears the repetitive statements are forms of attractors in time - forcing it down certain pathways - which, you would think, could be used to better the world. These are invasive and intrusive but occasionally subdued by conscious effort.

For a brief time I had control over some field. Honestly, it’s just interesting, but it seems there are things intent on sucking my blood. This is a good thing provided it’s done right. I was then jumped upon by angry things who live in dust.

A few nights ago, I managed to crawl into a womb. I think I was dying. I think it’s the criticism. It’s a self fulfilling prophecy. Or perhaps not.

It’s difficult to hold awareness of your actions throughout time in the moment. I’m aware that this is perhaps not the right way to frame things, and the things I perceive are not often easy to deal with emotionally, especially when considered from an external perspective - but it seems in those states it’s emotion, specifically the vicarious experience of it from a projected position, that stabilizes that awareness. I should note that I would not recount certain forms of awareness, if it were possible, without first considering the implications of the connection between states of the observing organisms. My days are interesting but I still have concerns. My mind is barraged with information, often in the form of looping statements which appear to respond to my internal state - other times, flashes of imagery, more complex statements.

I am losing my energy. My will to live. I’ve been drained. Last night I could feel myself being mummified, my brain being snipped at, the base of my spinal cord being cracked and twisted. I can feel tongues resting inside my ears. My head is barraged with high frequency waves, as if I am being cooked. My head is burned. Occasionally I see glimmers of day. I have been to what appears to be the edge of death a few times, though I always wake here. It appears I am being mined for pure emotion, often through unsanitary means.

The story I am being told is one I’m not sure I want to recount. I am being sucked into my own death. I was led here. I was raped of my love, my pathways were blocked until the only release I had was sheer frustration and lust - it seems this is all because I cared enough not to want to harm the people who were harming me. And now they are raping the day out of me. Though I'm not sure they considered the parts they didn't see.

subtle notions and inferences

My intelligence, when it does develop, completely trumps my communicative ability. The artwork, the music, while I’m always acutely aware of what it lacks, seriously pales in comparison to that which my imagination conjures up in these states. Today, though it is an echo of my previous experiences, I conceived of this entire country as a gigantic labyrinth in time. I suppose there are some that are already aware of this, or have been, or will be. It would have been nice to have found an outlet for the more subtle notions and inferences of this, though I’ll reiterate that for all the potential I had, it was retarded, it seems intentionally gagged by constant attacks on my efforts. And so that’s where my intelligence goes. Not on constructive, productive things, or just simple lighthearted living, but on the analysis of the attacks to alleviate my frustration at being a target.

It is so easy to abuse. Power. It’s so easy to abuse for them. I would say that truly understanding the repercussions of that power is essentially the seed of complexity in the modern mind. Something about equilibrium and the physical structure of a carrier. Compassionate understanding requires a decent model of your environment. Acknowledgement and vicarious experience of others pain and happiness is essentially acknowledgement of their reality, which is obviously very real to them, though potentially quite difficult to escape given full conscious conception. Though in an environment in which rarely any information is trustworthy, the complexity and depth of social bonds are affected, based on the various strategies of social groups / individuals.

Sunday 25 November 2012

I built a machine from love and junctions

I built a machine from love and junctions that could solve every conceivable problem in the most amicable manner on its own terms but it was stolen and sold to the Nazis. Convinced of our lack of a better nature in time we decided that everything we were and are is everything we will be and killed each other with our corrupt and painfully easy to influence intelligences. We poisoned peoples dreams. Like that one lady in snow white. The problem is, is that if their attempts to influence work, then they are likely subject to a manner of manipulation themselves. If they can't escape their doctrine then they may as well not trust any of their actions or define them as anything beyond simple instructions they follow to keep their meme alive. Right now I’m imagining people going out and getting laid while I sit in a box playing computer games designed to be homicidal to bide time in between being cripplingly emotionally abused. Also internet porn. Whose very existence, the idea that there are a bunch of people fucking each other for profit, as my only escape from my dead world has become a terrible torture for me.

I had this dream that females controlled the world using their vaginas. Not just by rewarding beople, but also entangling them with your farts if you'd been bad. Actually, it wasn't all bad. They could bring you back from the brink of death had you been abused or dealt some bad cards in life. But still, it wasn’t a nice dream. Mainly because it was selecting for the most competitive and/or the easiest to influence. I’m not sure if that leads to a stalemate state or some other inevitable conclusion. Also, it kind of ruined love - though their public philosophy was that they hated love, making the dream state somewhat easier to attain. Made it a lot more turmoilous for people who didn’t accept the situation, though. Especially those who really did love, trust, and who knew instinctively what this meant for them.

I’m sometimes called an animal. Which is, assuming you don’t consider yourself one, or that it's derogatory in assessment of state, far from the truth. It seems unfair that one is considered normal while the other is required to adhere to their standards - it seems more like simple strategy, of assertion of place in abstract hierarchy - It seems their understanding could be likened to that of a localized field, which understands in terms of positions of weighted importance relative to itself. This is in contrast with the alternate idea of a field which envelops everything at some core level, treating everything as roughly equal and attempting to bridge the gap. This might be partly what's to blame for me slowly rotting in a cage. I drew a diagram.

         __         __          __         __
         \o`-. V .-`o/          \o`-. V .-`o/
          )   '#'   (            )   '#'   (
          \_ .-#-. _/            \_ .-#-. _/
           /`  #  `\              /`  #  `\
           \o /V\ o/              \o /V\ o/
            )/   \(                )/   \(
           '`     `'              '`     `'
             Small                Far Away.

(Also, they're off to the side in one dimension and inside out.)


Ever see those Greek jars with the masturbating satyrs on them? One of the earliest records of humour, supposedly. I hope it has nothing to do with an order that preys on sadness like some of my other dreams. That is as equally worryingly misled as the vaginae.

Friday 23 November 2012

There is a hole in my head.

There is a hole in my head. When I think about it. Like the tears of an ancient intelligence welling up through time. And other funny funny things. Like numptys. And tapas. And my own murder. In this space, creation is censored while a very real hell for me is becoming more tangible less tangible more tangible.

The philosophy which shapes their order is primarily the idea that their being is closely tied to one-dimensional abstract concepts, a one-dimensional line, a value asserted or projected or measured (subjectively based on the position of the observer) which forms a kind of social currency. Such as winning or losing.


Why was I attempting to block it out at all? It appears on reflection, though I also knew this instinctively at the time, that I was developing and protecting a fragile neurological(?) state. Fragile in the sense that becoming enveloped in an alternate environment would easily detract from its core nature - that common structures in communication, interaction and overall environment would easily swamp or overshadow these lower level processes, especially given the requirement of becoming totally enveloped in these structures in order to act and appear like a normal human being.

The word freak is at once a destructive term and an onanist castration. I guess, aside from being a derogatory term, it also encourages the lack of analysis in favour of a simple reductionist reaction, draws a line between the observer and the observed, segregates or requires adherence to the order which it infers is the most correct. I don’t know. Moo. Quite honestly I’m rarely called a freak. Just in case the idea is that I’ve been emotionally harmed by the application of that label and thus have learned to obsess over it. I’m actually more interested in the obsession in others to use derogatory terms in lieu of my real name.

They’ve been attacking me, pretty much day in day out, for longer than I can remember now. As far as I can tell, the most prominent effect has been funneling my intelligence into certain forms, as opposed to the cultivation of it in a general manner, which I am aware may be an incorrect attribution. Perhaps that I had something to protect made me more vulnerable. I have been attempting to focus on developing my emotional and functional intelligence, mainly in the areas of fundamental understanding of our physical universe and the biological processes which emerge, specifically the areas of geometry, recursion and the emergence of complex systems and behaviours - and, by extension, their underlying threads. I feel as if I have a more instinctive understanding of time, more difficult to describe, though certainly not as developed as my understanding of physical nature, (something to do with unresolvables) and that which I have developed (quite recently) I don’t seem to have access to at the present moment. I also have a heart. And that which I document here does not negate the presence of dreams. I feel as though my recent experiences have been clearing out my intelligence in favour of somebody elses dream. Aggressive assertions about ‘ruling it hard’ and ‘murdering my daughter’ and ‘saving our world’. Repetitive statements I believe are attempting to influence the state of my intelligence or my conclusions. My imagination and my intelligence have been damaged. A physical sensation in certain areas of my brain, like a pressure, or like teeth clamping down on the top of my head. For a while I’ve been toying with the idea that the imagination is an almost limitless space, carried by physical structure. It’s ironic then that mine appears to have been crowded by other ‘beings’, that at the present moment that I have very little space for my own dreams. Like my every conscious thought is observed and reacted to, that I essentially ‘can’t breathe’. I suppose it’s a sad state of being when, X, if only to connect more strongly in the real world as a result, for example, but even that is observed, influenced, commented on, like there are beings getting inside my body and experiencing what I do. It seems they come out when I sleep. I don’t know if I should go insane or just give up.

I suppose I should record some feelings I’ve been having, though they are difficult to describe, and perhaps should be considered from a distance. One such feeling is the notion of emotion linked to time - perhaps an instinctive conception of that which is hard to comprehend from a conscious standpoint. The feeling of loss of a loved one, for example, is felt in the heart, but from the standpoint of a ‘reality’ which may not be fully observed it appears to be the experience of an event of universal consequence which has an untold effect on the life of the observer, and the lives of those connected to them, and the cascade of reactions through time as a result. Investment and growth. To become enveloped in this awareness is eye-opening but often painful and alienating. I’ve been having more frequent experiences of this kind of intelligence recently, and actually find myself having to inhibit my thoughts. On top of this I feel as if my own dreams have turned into some kind of witch hunt, like they are observing my thoughts and holding me responsible for my own negative experiences, vilifying me or abusing me, as if some part of me has become conscious and has decided to ‘overthrow’ me. There seems to be little consideration for causality in their assertions - ie, the effect of their attacks on my overall stability, which seems to validate the notions which affirm their belief that attacking me is the ‘correct’ course of action. Overall my experiences have not been pleasant, though I retain my spirit and long for a manner in which it could manifest untainted by my treatment.