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.
Eclipsed.
Friday, 30 November 2012
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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