| 10.24.98
Some enchanted evening... Desperate, i lie dreaming....
Hypercube... eternity... William Burroughs... conditioner and knitting needles... All the basics of insanity in a box. Me? I don't mind. at least they say i have a mind.
some they say, they threw it all away, but not me...
I swear, if i ever get jacked in again, I'm changing my handle to c0demuse. to think that i could inspire such process of mind pleases and astounds me. the face that
launched a thousand lines of code.
...
pause... several days pass... having read and transferred the contents of this disk, i decide to reuse it. recycle thy headware and all that jazz. (tim leary)
...
there has been a certain desperation to me lately. i cling to the hull of my sinking mind... perhaps it is just my subconscious drowning. i can hope. i often wish that my
subconscious would drown itself like an unwanted kitten and leave me in peace with my conscious mind and the great eternal unconscious/the void. i retreat into my
thoughts, each one with an infinite number of glimmering facets (assume a spherical thought...) and the world follows me deeper and deeper. they howl for me, for
my flesh and my thoughts, for this is all i have left to give, and I speak less. i will not give them the satisfaction of observing the damage they are doing. perhaps, i will
retreat into the natural void (as opposed to the cybernetic void) and speak prophetically in tongues. perhaps i will only pretend to.
i dream of salvation. not through jesus, or any of that religious crap, but through direct contact with the eyes and mind of the void. i dream, and chaos speaks. the
indeterminate voice of brownian motion engulfs me and i am just another randomly spinning particle, bouncing off the sides of the Teacup Earth. (twinkle, twinkle....)
god am i. i am god. am i god? am god i? god i am. i god am... so many ways to combine three little words, and the meaning somehow remains essentially the same.
we are the most beautiful thing currently in existence. we are probably the most beautiful thing ever to exist, past or future-- now, then, and not yet. "strange as
angels" i think that says it all quite neatly.
it occurs to me that i'm still wearing my shoes. and this tacky purple object. *sigh* i'm so insanely tired. er...no. tired doesn't cut it. exhausted comes closer, but i
think "dead" is the closest this language comes to expressing this sensation.
pause. i dream of you enmeshed with wires -- fully a part of the machine, mainlining data faster than the human mind was meant to experience raw feed. i dream the
taste of copper. kissing you at every junction, making love to you, and the machine by extension. i dream of frying the grid with our output, pure passion destroying
the worldwide data frame that supports the net, destroying the entire world economy in one orgasmic essence flare, and killing everyone else who was unfortunate
enough to be jacked in at the time. their heads would explode with the force of the blood rushing to the tired minds struggling to comprehend the sudden rush of
unintelligible input. i dream in colour. do you?
5:37 am
saturday, 10.24.98 | 
