So ideas are my love in life…

However — infrequently there is one that I must push aside, without giving it the consideration; nor engaging with it, as other fanciful thoughts. Sure it may exist as a fathomed concept, like a benign fish-shaped-blip on a sonar display. Its’ simplicity allows it to remain inert even if it literally isn’t… although:

On first glance of&— discounting all of those pseudo-realists (the mundane) — What if..? It is as though my buffering simulator tells me more about itself, metamorphosing. Than the nature of the idea, applied to reality. That itself is imminent to melt down. As pre-emptive to emulation, warns of precipitating super-sayun mode/firing the “moon raygun” of pent rage & sequestered hate from within — out.

An example:


The idea that signals we echo & save in electrical charge, if not matter analogies… as the phenomenal perceptions, existing within the noumenal medium/elixir.

Say… a voice as it exists outside of the human brain — in the air. Recaptured by a device, then reproduced from the captured format, back through the traversed medium… to be perceived as the original voice. Phenomenal. As it were known by the devices of the physiology itself — animal receptors.

This being normal by nature of human/convenient invention, being analogies of our own organic technology… our own form. Microphones as ears, speakers as mouths — in the mode of the medium… the electric seas.

The IDEA being… of these myriad signals that layer the finite medium of silence: broadcasting over the air. Perhaps there is a receptor within our form… our being… the body… that can experience.

The idea… is knowing… my oh some layer of subconscious may already autonomously, involuntarily be subjected to this barrage of incessant noise.
Before there is even an ego of a want, to amplify it back into a form that can rattle the ear drums.

Tele = a prefix meaning faraway/remote.

It is infuriating to consider an infuriatingly ignorant reality all nature is permeated by on a noumenal level. To consider it to be a component/element/initiative/product of the obvlivious, nauseating and hyterical one we endure/weather/suffer for the sake of being disingenuous.

Before considering living in a place you must actively listen to it by-proxy… as your mind indoctrinated to a translation of reality, as language is all and there is a word for everything — regardless of validity, substance, meaning, purpose, integrity….

Because the idea is the realization that perhaps… these fucking rhetorical degenerate delinquent magniloquent obfuscators of triviality… their voices… might be suffered by every microbe and animal that never needs comprehend our so called ‘reality’…. let alone ‘who we think we are’ — to live. And regardless — are saturated by our need to express our brainwaves, so obnoxiously — just to recall in this daze of hysteria, we singularly exist.

Lords of the universe, masters of mentality, perceivers of the world to life — farts on the solar breaths of breezes. It is almost too much for one’s (lets say) empathy (but really — having a conscience/soul) to bare.


One of the most disheartening things for me personally. Living in these borders, in this bird-cage with tricky, but managable doors/passages and hallways. Is that I was conned into signing up to Vote.

I felt so strongly… as much as I may joke about it on the off occaison. The fact… the actual fact… that I must be tied to a place in this world… a place in time… on the gregorian calendar of whimsy and fantasia. Is for the sake of pretending my knowleagable choice between the lesser of two collective and collaberative evils… the great toss of the political penny for postulation of a thought.

It is nothing more than the inclusion into liabilities and carrying the symbolic crosses for our kin. Kind of like a stoner moment, where you realize that all of the things you were doing ‘just encase the lighter ran out’…. such as using bible papers for blunts, or gift vouchers. Were infact rhetorical courses of action that never should have taken place, considering your initial misjudgement of the situation and the pointlessness of the persuit. Either continuing or in finally ending — a life free from something that was scarcely ancillary to living prosperously… Politics (Economical promotional propoganda). Behold, a litote closer to a lie, of all needing the same things to be happy/valuable.

And what backlash could I face for this supposed ‘opinion’/’attitude’, that is highly sentimental, completely rational and scarcely questioned, lest I actually explain my convictions.

Well … a cheap as fuck, guilt trip… “Oh … not Voting.. basically means that you are implicitly to blame for what some ethically-inept parliament of baboons is proposing as… the meaning of our fucking existence.”


There is nothing more my vote could ever do as a glitch on a form, that the words I rewriting every single year: “A decision between negatives, is not a choice”….

Essentially… being frowned upon for not caring about imbecile politics… is essentially blaming me for the Vote-Counter rolling their eyes at how much they hate their life. With my gesture as the vessel of difference to osmotically ship their piss-ant opinions.

Every year the Vote-Counter is bored shitless… and my vote is never going to change that. Which is pretty much the same as living in an economy/purpose of life, so easily manipulated by the monopoly tide of buying and selling shares to yourself… always for a profit — of course — of course. Why would anybody that can cause something that barely changes anything really, but everyone distracts themselves with… Stop… when they can actually invent themselves a great deal of deeds and gestures in their favor — of all those desperados who would sell their kidneys for a bottle of old grape juice.

Sell their souls for a chance to even feel remotely worthwhile — let alone as worthwhile as they were born to be.

Yep =-= some ideas, just have to be pushed aside. If you talk to me about politics, please don’t think i’m speechless within awe and wonderment. I’m probably just lost in the abyssal… fathoming what the etiquette of kindness and politness might be… in such an utterly degrading and insulting situation might be.

If people aren’t spurting statements at me like gemstones of verbal diarrhea… that are so infinitesimally relevant to me… essentially saying the first brilliant thing that comes to mind… which at this stage happens to be the newest thing in a tunnel field of vision. Me… that’s the link… That’s what they base the warrant of subjecting me to this particular snide exerpt of thinking maybe a thought might happen… like a stone tummbling back down the quarry slide/slope/inclination to negate sense, moments and charm.

This particular instance of a collision with some stranger… is meaning enough to continue the degenerate soliloquy upon my supposedly inviting facade. Like a freshly painted, white-again-redbrick wall… begging to be tagged.

If you are going to be pretending to have a conversational investment in external people… please do first tell them… what you are actually TALKING ABOUT. Politics… fails to do this… repeatedly. No I do not want to know your life story at the promise of refilling my bird seed… simply for you to valiate your impetus, based upon honerary associations… to abstract thinkers that would die before being born, if they could see their legacy resolve to token phrased… and weasel words.

This… Radioactive Slurry.. pretend you don’t know it so well.. and just ask yourself. Based on what is being said — WHAT… is being said. And .. the reality… yes… the reality is… that is what is being said.

Someones name (repeatedly)… then followed by a plethora of lesser shits… reinforced by more name sakes and no hint of a sensibility is given, let alone an inkling to what plot the back-cover blurb… might actually be about. What the next supposedly governing/defining Years might entail.

I will partake with a simple platitude, so we may all understand quite clearly:

The Devil, is in the Details.

Form a bias against anything… whether it be a status upon Animal Derivatives as a Vegan… you only have to look into the details… to run into the exact same problems.

Believing in the truth in this life… apparently isn’t good enough. You have to be believing in the fiction we live… to be a functioning part of… the species that knows what it is doing, is a crime… in its’ own mind… as it commits it relentlessly.

“I know there is a better way — but money isn’t free.”

You can only create a profit.. by causing a loss… in the monitary realm. Yet this is the system you choose to live by… by accepting it and persecuting others for beleiving in truth and caring about what the world becomes — not what they have — over another individual.

Legacy is the antidote to poor developers syndrome. Creation for legacy is far more beautiful than your funeral plan. Buying a will kit may as well be an epitaph branded on bones — “Well another life’s will lived flakey as a Kitkat: half for my wasted youth, half for my damned family…” to last a few extra….—-  post the anticlimax of a contrite-apocalypse that never comes, to legitimize our/global nations’ plans for the future — as fateful, clandestine, godly intuitive. The atomic bunker — lest your Kitkat will-kit be torn by Humanities signature move. Destroying to demoralize. “Jobs – jobs – jobs… creating jobs” — I’m a born again optimist of the republic.

Fantastic existence, Gymtacular prime meats. Work that button, maintained by inumerable reanimated corpses. You know I like it rhetorical baby.

The Sun’s creation, smothered to death by flags… now that’s something to work towards. Be a good citizen and forfeit that you were ever wonderous.

Noo thanks. The offer is errrr — tempting¿ However you may keep your ideas and I will keep myself from becoming an oblivious drug-courier/catalyst of a Parent. Whether my Children are attitudes, creatures of kin or alien notions.

I have crossed Oceans, just to see the same thing — be worse.



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