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...old fillings in her teeth began to bother her. She would spend nights staring at a ceiling lit by the pink glow of San Narciso's sky. Other night she could sleep for eighteen drugged hours and wake, enervated, hardly able to stand...
...we of all magical precipitates out of Europe's groaning, clouded alembic, we are the thinest, the most dangerous, the handiest to secular uses... we tried to exterminate our Indians, like you: we wanted the closed white version of reality we got- but even into the smokiest labyrinths, the furthest stacked density of midday balcony or courtyard and gate, the land has never let us forget...
...look out the window, and doesn't this remind you of when you were in the boat... and then later that night, you were lying, looking up at the ceiling, and the water in your head was not dissimilar from the landscape, and you think to yourself, 'why is it that the landscape is moving, but the boat is still?'...
...Sometimes at dusk, when you were trying to relax and not think of the general stagnation, the Garbage God would gather a handful of those choked-off morning hopes and dangle them somewhere just out of reach; they would hang in the breeze and make a sound like delicate glass bells, reminding you of something you never quite got hold of, and never would. It was a maddening image, and the only way to whip it was to hang on until dusk and banish the ghosts with rum...
...In this conception of consciously formed reality finite limits on the nature of our schema halt the further assimilation of external stimulus. Thus all subjective representations of the objective universe can only ever go part of the way to attaining a true tautology of semblance. In a universe of varying types of consciousness, as evolved in the various central nervous systems on this planet, this problem of semblance can be some way overcome. Distinct consciousnesses will form different schema to represent the same stimulus...
...Life has no genuine intrinsic worth, but is kept in motion merely by want and illusion...
...we of all magical precipitates out of Europe's groaning, clouded alembic, we are the thinest, the most dangerous, the handiest to secular uses... we tried to exterminate our Indians, like you: we wanted the closed white version of reality we got- but even into the smokiest labyrinths, the furthest stacked density of midday balcony or courtyard and gate, the land has never let us forget...
...look out the window, and doesn't this remind you of when you were in the boat... and then later that night, you were lying, looking up at the ceiling, and the water in your head was not dissimilar from the landscape, and you think to yourself, 'why is it that the landscape is moving, but the boat is still?'...
...Sometimes at dusk, when you were trying to relax and not think of the general stagnation, the Garbage God would gather a handful of those choked-off morning hopes and dangle them somewhere just out of reach; they would hang in the breeze and make a sound like delicate glass bells, reminding you of something you never quite got hold of, and never would. It was a maddening image, and the only way to whip it was to hang on until dusk and banish the ghosts with rum...
...In this conception of consciously formed reality finite limits on the nature of our schema halt the further assimilation of external stimulus. Thus all subjective representations of the objective universe can only ever go part of the way to attaining a true tautology of semblance. In a universe of varying types of consciousness, as evolved in the various central nervous systems on this planet, this problem of semblance can be some way overcome. Distinct consciousnesses will form different schema to represent the same stimulus...
...Life has no genuine intrinsic worth, but is kept in motion merely by want and illusion...
Stealing O'Neal's Debut Album. Listen.
https://www.stealingoneal.com/
https://www.myspace.com/stealingoneal
Rip It Up and Start Again
...sometimes at dusk, when you were trying to relax and not think about the general stagnation, the Garbage God would gather a handful of those choked-off morning hopes and dangle them somewhere just out of reachl they would hang in the breeze and make a sound like delicate glass bells, reminding you of something you never quite got hold of, and never would. It was a maddening image, and the only way to whip it was to hang on until dusk and banish the ghosts with rum...
Unutterable Visions
...And just for a moment, i had reached the point of ecstasy that i always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plan where all the angels dove off and flew into the holy void of uncreated emptiness, the potent and inconceivable radiancies shining in bright Mind Essence, innumerable lotus-lands falling open in the magic mothswarm of heaven.
Brilliance:
~owenfreeman (https://www.deviantart.com/owenfreeman):iconjeffsimpsonkh::iconstabstabstab::iconale
Brave New World
What Fresh Hell Is This???
To En. Nous. Psyche. Physis.
...And the work of eternity is the world not yet made, and yet ever made by eternity...
...Therefore shall nothing be at any time destroyed, for eternity is incorruptible...
...Neither can anything perish or be destroyed in the world, the world being contained and embraced by eternity...
...Before us, nothing existed here/No one/We are totally alone here/We are unique, dreadfully unique...
...Once we know the number one...we believe that we know the number two...because one plus one equals two/We forget that first...we must know the meaning of plus...
...What are they going to do
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