"It is what it isn't though that isn't what it is and like I've always said I think that it's exactly what you think it is.
If you believe it is whatever someone else told you it is then you're doing it all wrong because you're the only one who could possibly know what it is."
- zed satelite nccDD 23 ksc
"00AG9603 develops as a self-organizing organism, connects with the virtual environment through its hosts (admins) by arranging the surroundings randomly for its own autonomous purpose"
- Timóteo Pinto, pataphysician post-thinker
“Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find THE OTHERS” – Dr Timothy Leary
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“Welcome to the most ancient conspiracy on the planet. We’ve gone for so long now that we don’t remember what we were doing, but we don’t want to stop because we have nothing better to do.” - Fire Elemental
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KSXTI Post-Neoist Meta-Discordian Galdruxian Memes Illuminati Cabal Contact Information
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"Stick apart is more fun when we do it together." - St. Mae
There exists [sic] a dichotomy of eternity and temporality.
Where temporality connotes materiality.
And materiality implies movement.
And time is the measure of movement [kinesis].
Such that if only there were not this materiality with which to contend, eternality would be the consequence.
But we’ve already made a mistake.
There’s an error above and always has been.
What happens to movement if materiality didn’t implicate.
The paralysis of reality.
The great end.
In consciousness the revolutions of thought mimic the divine and through the repetition of orbital motion imitate eternality.
And in the deviation is implicated the punishment.
Death.
Death and death and death.
Void is something other than the heavens.
The space in which what could be isn’t.
The negative of potentiality.
Not all that couldn’t be is actuality.
So wakes the dreamer from the thought of what could be into a corpse incapable of motion cognizant of the destructive force whose potency is to enact a negative timelessness.
Torn from materiality the other way.
Not anything to live through.
Acts of the divine in nature.
And then there are its monstrosities.
The pathological recognition of dark matter.
I felt it, and I know you felt it too.
Intuition but dreadful.
A lack and all its wants.
A hole for us to fall into.
I see the edge, and I want to go over.
Go over go over go over.
What’s down there?
What could be but what isn’t.
What isn’t and cannot be.
What your mother warned you about.
Whatever faith is the medication for.
It’s down there.
It’s in the corner waiting for your heart to stop.
The beats are too much like its heavens.
On the way down to where nothing circulates.
It comes in through the seams between the walls where they meet ninety degrees and warmer.
It’s why sleepwalkers open doors.
And run back inside.
The fact remains we’ve seen this thing, and we were not asleep for it.
God in a child’s laughter.
Hell in its expunged entrails.
What was holding it together was participation in a form that mimics the eternal but there’s something, something else that tears it apart and that’s so much closer…
Matter tends that way already.
Toward what?
Not the eternal.
To the negative schematized timelessness you can only see in the dark.
Eternality as the rationalization of that which dissipates.
Oh fuck, that’s me.
The contradiction of becoming isn’t being, it’s not being.
Take it from the inexistent.
There’s a time outside of time where your God lives.
And a timelessness on the other side where nothing.
I didn’t see it when I got up in the night.
Perception is a function of the animal.
You know it by the fact that you can’t tell.
There it is, though.
There it isn’t.
It’ll stop your heart, just because it hates its rhythm.
Now there are fits and starts to rationality.
It isn’t clear what’s waking and what’s dead and what’s left over.
Every limb useless.
Tendency after tendency run screaming from its end toward the other.
Everything tends toward the good, until it doesn’t.
Gravitation as materiality gone wrong.
The nature that drags you down.
The light that wants you with it isn’t strong enough to overcome the fundamental pull of matter towards matter towards mass towards the one.
Singularity not as everything not as unity not as weightlessness but heavy, dark, and putrid, all that’s torn apart together, condemned to voidlessness, where there isn’t space to be and nevertheless, there you are.
I see it in the extended devil’s now.
The present that’s necessity by force of its endurance.
