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05/26/2015

Commonly Owned Automation

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The more work is done by machines, the more money is earned through ownership rather than work. Ownership is power, and equality of power is equality of ownership. All we need to keep inequality from increasing because of automation is to give everyone their share of its returns as a basic income, so that they can then use it as they want. The only thing we can't automate creativity, which is reduced if it is paid for, * and creativity can further automate work. Therefore, the less work needs to be done for what we need to survive, the less anyone should have to work to survive, and the higher basic income should be so as to increase creativity. Creativity arises from everything we live for that work takes away. We should work only to keep our lives, which we can never give up for any thing as valuable.
* Dan Pink: The Puzzle of Motivation (FRB: Large Stakes and Big Mistakes)
 
 

 

Month 300

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Nine hundred months
Within an average life.
More than I care to count,
In a mere sack of coins.
One third through this life,
I'm just at its three hundredth.
How shall I spend the rest,
Before death taxes them?
How much of it is wasted,
On things I leave behind?
I move past them ever faster,
As I feel the weight lightening.
How is this one month no more,
Than another decade's percent?
Were I to do nothing but wait,

I would not even get impatient.

 

Implants

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A screw came loose and then it clicked:
Who put these gears inside my head?
They kept me moving round in circles,
But now they are just standing still.
They jangled around my skull,
Got me stuck in full speed.
They thought I was in error,
But I was never a machine.
Turn me upside down,
And shake the shrapnel out.
But they'd just turn me off,
So they could try to fix this yet.
If fixing me will turn me back
The way I was before,
Then I myself will break me open,

To throw out what isn't mine.

Mandala

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A million grains of sand,
All balanced on one another.
Whenever I move one, 
It disturbs all the others.
If I cannot be perfect,
Then all I am is but a lie.
But where is what is straight
In the world I'm to depict?
If my mind is to be my world,
Then let me become like it;
A flow of ever shifting dunes,
That let them float into the wind.
Let me give up to surrender,
And yet I cannot do it.
Pray defeat me soon,
That this war be over yet!
Let me fail this time,
Before I think I'm done,
And presume that I contain,
All there is in an abstraction.

St. Anthony's Fire

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He became so bored in his prayers,
That his desires took form as visions;
So intense that a poison took his name,
Which he begged be taken from his lips.
But that's where he and I are different;
The poison's that for which I've come.
I've yet to learn the lesson since the fall,
And just sneaked right back in for more.
I'm double-dealing with Lord and Beast,
And I don't care which way the visions come;
I'll sell bits of my soul to the highest bidder,
On the intersection of their roads.

End of The Way

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I have my way,
And you have yours.
As for the right way,
The only way — is ours.
The way keeps going straight:
It must be going somewhere.
But that's just how it's made,
By those who come before us.
All ways come to an end,
And ours lay within walls.
We had no further to go,
Still had to keep on moving.
We moved in circles till we fell,
Now they're spinning in our heads.
When we slept it was to dream,
Of the way that never ends.
What we go's not even a nightmare,
Just a dreamless deep sleep.
And the sleepers just won't wake
When we're all shouting fire.
They will have one ugly snore,
When they are all on fire.
The whole place is burning down,
But we'll just dance around the fire.
It's not the end of all the world:
The whole world is still outside.
We'll have ourselves a barbecue,
If any of us are cannibals.
We'll take the pieces we need,
To incorporate them into us.
Throw all the rest to the dogs,
 
And we'll just call it history.
 

Gargoyle

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Your eyes are on the horizon,
But it never comes any closer.
You won't be the one to move,
As you value only hardness.
You're fixed onto the roof,
With all the integrity of brickwork.
I can either break you apart,
Or leave you where you are.
You'll never need to see me:
Just look on straight ahead.
You would have me join you,
And turn back into stone.

Stranger

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At any moment, we know nothing beyond what we are conscious of then, gone the next moment once our focus shifts to something else. As we can hold almost nothing of all there is within our consciousness, all is an unknown to us, even ourselves. Thus at all times we should observe all as if we had never known it before, for if anything, it was not we that once knew it, but someone we used to be, a stranger.

Nexus

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I expose all my nerves to you:
Strike them however you may,
That sparks may run up my spine,
And I, light my brain on yours.
Let my plexus merge together,
Into a single center with yours.
And all our endings be beginnings,
Into which our pulses flow.
Do whatever you may with me,
As long as it's you who does it.
If the feeling would last as long,
It'd be the same if you'd break me.
Whatever happens between us,
I live to be someone closer to you.
I'm thankful to know that you exist —
Naught can ever take that away.
Hurt me and I'll cherish the wounds,
That your touch has left behind.
Leave and still we share one world —
And I'll adore the air we breathe.
You'll draw out my soul as you let go,
Till it fills the space between us:
Expanding to contain you in itself,
And lay bare to every tremor.

Siren Call

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I should've given myself up

To the free fall of gravity.
They don't tell you of the violence,
That the force of nature holds.
You only know it on the brink,
When you stare into its maw,
And vertigo washes over you
To beckon toward your doom.
I ran forward for the leap,
Only to hold back at the edge.
This cannot be the right place;
The outcrops are in my way.
I stumbled where I'd stopped,
And tumbled over the rocks.
I never made it to the waves,
And lay broken at their shore.
Once you stand at that height,
There's only one way left to go.
Leap forth as far as you can,
If ever you lift your soul at all.
Let there be enough time now,
Before the ebb whisks you away.
Let me glimpse you on the surface,
And I'll find you at world's end.
The wind shifts—I hear your call.
The fog clears before my eyes,
Now I see I never understood
Just how endless is the ocean.
I thought that I would lose myself,
As if I were ever mine to lose.
All they ever told me was a lie;
You never needed to take over.
I won't be cast upon the rocks,
If I don't turn back their way.
You don't lead toward the shore,
But farther out into the depths.
't Must be the world that's rising,
For it doesn't feel as if I fall.
Let the waves spread over me,
And sweep all I was away.
 

Loss of Self

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The one thing that makes being in love what it is, and doesn't occur in either lust or friendship, is a loss of self, which is meant to prepare us for a time when part of us is contained not within our self but within a family: we can't love someone else as we would ourselves until we've fallen in love at least once in our life. This is why being in love can make us feel more connected to anything aside from the person we're in love with, and separate from anything about our selves. By reducing the ego's repression of the id, being in love reaches deeper into our unconscious than anything other than psychedelics, which simulate not schizophrenia as hallucinogens do, but being in love.

Letting Go to Take in

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We are certain to lose old moments, but if we try to hold on to them, we don't have space left to take in the new. However perfect a time may appear, better times will come whenever we let it go.

Spider's Den

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There are spiders in my belly,
Feasting upon butterflies.
They struggle in their webs,
Until their wings get stuck.
They suck their juices dry,
Then leave their husks to hang.
Hunger gnaws at my insides,
In the hollow left behind.
Swallow down more of them,
And we'll turn them all to pulp.
What a resource they make,
Such energy to consume!
Your envoys arrived alive,
But didn't make it past the mob.
You know me to want peace,
But I'll seek it in times of war.
This body's no longer mine,
Something's taken from within;
And all my entrails are woven,
Into a tangle I can't escape.
I have grown into a forest,
Of living things all run amok.
Still there is some flow in them.

As each wave eats up the next.

Recipe

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You stir my flesh around,
As if it's written in my recipe.
All my feelings get mixed up,
Into a soup without consistency.
My body bubbles like a stew,
That's simmered for too long.
The heat writhes inside me
All coiled up like a snake.
The lid's starting to vibrate,
The contents running over.
By now I must be ready,
Or else I'm overcooked.

Oneiro-Telepathy Log 2

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Images of streets reflect each other through pieces of glass in in a broken window, succeeding each other ever faster until the window begins to vibrate. As the images blur together, they turn into a white aurora just before the window shatters entirely, leaving nothing but dust. As the dust falls, it turns into white noise. Images emerge from it like salmon jumping up rapids.
D: I float in midair. "What is this… place?"
The Grim Reaper peddles leisurely upstream, wearing a garland around his hood. He takes off his hood, showing E's emotionless face, gaunt as a skull.
E: "Welcome to my shattered mind."
D: "You. Aren't you the schizoaffective?"
E: "I don't know. My mind sure feels like it's split into a million pieces, and I don't even have a headache. But I don't do delusions. It's not my taste, it's not my style. And as long as the ivy leaves me alone, it's all the same for me."
D: "It has been a while since your last episode."
E: "Excuse me, this is a no-logic zone. If you want to leave, take the third left at the roundabout. I'm here to dream."
D: "Seems like our unconsciouses sought each other's opposition." E makes a face. "You don't like it that I'm making you lucid, do you? Why? Are you actively trying to split your mind? Do you think a single image at a time is too boring?"
E: "I'll show you boring!" I take off my garland and throw it against the rapids. It's not swept away, but a black crack shows on the rapids, and the foam of the rapids turns into the dunes of a desert.
D: The crack begins to turn around into a vortex, like the accretion disk of a black hole, drawing me in a spiral towards it. Then oil spouts all over me from the hole, like blood from an artery.
E: "Ahaha! You should see your face. Not that you can, of course. You've been defaced." I hold up a mirror like a hairdresser, and somehow you can see through the oil to see the latex mask, covering your face like a parasite.
D: I want to speak, but can't move my mouth. So I grasp you by the neck and kiss you hard through the mask, so hard that it slips off and onto you. "What are you doing to my head? This dream is over."
E: "You can't do that." The oil turns the sand into sludge, making it sink like quicksand, and we fall down the hole. I think something which looks like the bottom, but when I get closer I see it's a rabbit. It's startled at our approach and digs deeper, faster than we can fall.
D: "This is the last time I'm getting into the unconscious of a schizophrenic." I feel E's eyes on my and look at him. Tears fall up from his eyes.
E: "I'm not malicious, you know."
D: "Yes, you are." I tense my body as hard as possible and stop falling, causing the rabbit to look back in relief. It seems like it was only afraid of me, not of E. Seeing only E fall towards it, it merely yawns. E shrinks as he falls until he falls into the rabbit's mouth. "I can't take this. You're done making this dream. I'm going to think of something normal, and you're not going to do anything about it." I'm at the living room of my home, trying to focus on the feeling of normalcy and not to think about E. I don't need to wake up. If I stop thinking of him I'll disconnect from him. But I can feel E is behind me in the room and close my eyes.
E: "I'll be a good boy."
D: "Good. Good thing you're not God like you once thought you were, or you couldn't help but turn the whole world to dust in a moment. It's bad enough that you destroyed yourself. You did this to yourself. You hated yourself so much that you felt like shattering your mind like you'd throw something at a wall."
E: "I…"
D: "Not another word!"
E: "You're right. But it's not something that I can help doing. At first I thought I could, but I really just fall apart under my own weight. I can't hold myself together when there's no one to hold me." I put my arms around you like a child. 
D: "It's alright. It was pretty funny in the beginning, when you were the Grim Reaper on a holiday. I don't know, perhaps it's me who's the problem. I try to be as focused as possible because if I don't, I'm afraid to… end up like you."
E: "That's what I've been doing after my last episode, at least when I'm awake. I feel like my bones are really fragile and I need to be careful not to touch anything too hard lest I'll break."
D: "I'm sorry. I'll stay with you through this dream. You seem a lot calmer already anyway. Who knows, maybe we can find a middle way together." I put my arm around your head. I want to turn around to hug you, but you won't let go. When I look at your arms, I see you're in rigor mortis. I crane my head back to see a speaker is jammed in your mouth. When I do, it utters an advertisement for a circus.
E: "Gotcha."

D: "You son of a bitch. You're literally a nightmare." I wake up.
 

Waves of Existence

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All opposites are a form of that between empty and full, and as there is no information in either in itself, it exists only on the interface between the two. Their opposition is all they is, for if full were empty and empty full, nothing would be different. As either in itself is nothing, we must always balance opposites, and to find the balance we must try different possibilities between extremes, and to do so we need to be free from limits, for that balance may change. To become more rather than less conscious, we must balance by increasing what's lacking, for if we decrease the opposite that's excessive.

The energy in our body and mind is made up of waves that flow together into a whole that is one and yet manifold. Each wave has a will of its own, arising from the whole of the mind and in turn affecting it. Once a wave starts, it takes time to stop by itself: it can't be stopped, only changed by an opposing wave which may balance it. Meditation is to synchronize our waves, and to go as fast as a wave of perception, we should go not too fast and not too slow.

Nova

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My heart has been burning,
But its walls were strong.
Before it found its way thro',
It retreated deep inside.
It began to collapse on itself,
And thought this was the end,
But the fire was still there,
Brighter than ever at the core.
When the fire will break free,
The world will burn inside it.
The walls of my heart are theirs,
For I am the void in between.

Firestorm

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Thought I fire was only air,

That fuel could only smother?
The sky will not light on fire,
Unless it rises from the earth.
I dried in worship of the sun,
Till all my being turned to fuel.
Were once to burn nevermore to rise,
Then let me fall for you forever.
You struck my soul like lightning,
And spread thro' me like a wildfire.
Wind will only fan the flames,
And carry them across the world.
The firestorm is sucking me in,
Upwards through my center.
It rises like a mushroom cloud,
Unfolding from inside itself.
All the cosmos is an orgy
Between the earth and sky.
Let me feel your electricity,

And the elements will flow thro' us.
 

05/02/2015

Transfusion

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You come to consult me
On your aching heart.
You will need surgery,
And there's no anesthetic.
You lay exposed before me,
Beneath the glaring light.
I handle you with care,
But if I am sterile?
Slowly the first incision
Opens up your abdomen.
I turn myself inside out,
And reach deep inside.
I leave part of myself
Transfused within you.
It binds me onto you,
Only to be rejected.
Could I but infest you,
But there is no space for me.
So we'll just consume each other,
From inside like parasites.

Open Wide

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Is there no one to join me,
Into this flux of perceptions,
Without asking what it means,
Or it having to have meaning?
The breath of our life is lost,
Upon the winds of eternity.
Why waste it all on arguing,
On which is what to whom?
Only what is open may receive
The gift that is offered to it,
Then let my mind be open wide,
That any other may fit inside.
Let me too be part of the flux,
And give myself to the winds,
That I may encompass all,
And all may encompass me.

Egg Opens

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The Egg Opens.jpg

Achilles' Hubris (All or Nothing)

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I know now how Achilles could die,
From a mere arrow to his heel.
He did not die in that battle,
But in the aftermath back home.
For his was a life without restraint,
And there was no other life for him.
That life had hung by a thread,
And became his thread of life.
I've never feared any pain,
When I made it past your walls,
Only to be kept from moving,
As penalty for my being there.
I have besieged you for years,
To fight off all resistance.
To be neighbors is not enough,
If you'll close your gates to me.
Strife's just one more part of life;
Why should I have regrets?
I only did what I had to do,
To act out what I feel inside.
The arrow plugs my flesh,
As long as it's there lodged,
So I will bear it in my wound,
Till hands are pressed thereon.
But fie that now this body
Won't carry me any further!
Just let me keep on going,
For am I not invulnerable?
But only in our dreams,
Is naught of consequence.
What won't partake in them,
Only resist us in the end.

Static Chaos

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Static Chaos.jpg

Sample

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Sample.jpg

Purify

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Purification.jpg

Collision

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Planetogenesis.jpg

Memento Mori

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MEMENTO MORI!.jpg

Infeston

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Infeston.jpg

Dark Energy

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Dark Energy Reactor.jpg

Consciousness and Connection

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Consciousness is made of connections. Acceptance is the connection between parts of our consciousness, repression their disconnection, so that we should meditate on connecting the whole of our consciousness, from the parts most connected to all others. Even to solve a problem, we must be conscious of it and so accept it: even if it is our repression itself, lest we also repress the part that represses. Distraction is one part being unconsious of another, so that we'll always become more conscious if we accept it, and when we become conscious of it, we already have.

We can only connect with someone or something if we accept them, and to do so, to accept what they are conscious of, so that we wouldn't connect with any gods because it'd make us conscious of all we don't accept. To ourselves, all is but part of our consciousness, so that we connect with others through ourselves and ourselves through others, and once we connect, whatever we do for/to each other we also do for/to ourselves and the other way around. All we can do to make someone conscious is to accept them for our part, that they may do the same: when someone doesn't accept someone else, it's usually because they don't accepted themselves.
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