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lainchan archive - /zzz/ - 2575

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Let's post some of our own. Just open up word, set the timer for 10 minutes and then start typing. Don't plan ahead. Just write the first words that come to your mind and by the time you finish them the next ones. You can correct typos afterward. Then let's each analyze our own texts.

Here's mine:
>Upon the breath of dragons came the smoldering corpses of planets which look through the glass that witches spoke through in Times forgotten by all the apes that would constantly stare at the number seven. I didn’t like the attitude of some Cambodian missionaries who would row through the seas on the back of mountains and aligned with them all where much too few different severed bodies of the apocalypse which should fall before all the chains tying the roots of the earth. I didn’t bring much alcohol to fill all the bottles that would stick out beneath the salt sea of magnitude. When I lived in the watchtower I heard the constant clanking of processors built through the divine methods of molecular epitaxy past by the robots who created the human race. In the meanwhile I was driving a car which had no lights and could not expect how many of us would see the faces of pigeons reflected in our windows. Elvis lives and before he was a dinosaur he lived amongst Satan and Hephaestus creating black holes which encountered all the immortal races of the galaxy. The lives went on and the smoldering corpses were buried beneath witches and defecated upon and I liked the sweat scent of nice voluptuous women who would enwrap me with their sweaters which would lead to hesitant suffocation. I could not look either of them in the eye because I chose not to swear in public. We would not see how many of them were infantile and how many of them had rabbits growing from their claws. They could not produce evidence of all the crimes committed against the Polish people beneath all the stars that could have forged the first computers.Not only was it a myth that my head was enslaved benaath the sand by Jacki Chan who could ride the ocean waves on his bike it would also be fair to suspect that none of them lied to me when they were making up all the falsehoods that produced mankind’s first origin spirits. It was not known whether or not I would like to be thought of as a person that could go on without trying and know the shapes of buildings by looking upon them. It would seem obvious to myself that I was beneath a sky that shouted all the names of the bands that made Loveless a thing and none of the noises breathing on my skin.


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Break that up into paragraphs next time, lol.
It's a foggy night here in the ol' city. Dogs barking, cats fucking, same old shit. Music playing from beneath the streets and the light that glowed from each and every orange streetlight hummed evermore and shined a soft light all over the parts of the city that was deserving of it. It was a soft feeling, something warming and safe to me but not to many others.
I held onto my Virginian cig for a few more puffs before setting it down into the basin and going back inside to where my girlfriend snored softly underneath the covers.
It's been years since my restlessness has kept me up like this. My mind was buzzing with thoughts; thoughts that were slowly being sullened by my lethargic mind. I carressed her cheek and pulled the covers, ever so slowly off of her.
Her body was blackened and rotting. I gripped onto a small maggot that had burrowed into her stomach wound and pulled apart the skin that had separated her insides, her true self, from me. From then, I pressed my ear to her still heart, the heart that beat fast as I penetrated her, the heart that couldn't take the love that I had given her. There was nothing more beautiful in my eyes than the noises she made when I told her I loved her as I held her down.
I began to eat at the flesh and merge our bodies into one ethereal being. We are one with each other now. Yet, to my dismay, the universe didn't want our love-making to go on too far.
Rrring. Rrring.
"Yes, hello? Who the fuck is this?"
My friend laughed on the other end. "Your girl kept you up this late?"
I smiled a bit and nodded before remembering, "Yeah, not in the way you think though."
Another hardy laugh and I grinned like an idiot before hearing him speak again in a shivering tone, "I'm glad for you. I need to speak urgently to you about something... I feel I need your help."
"When I," he paused and then continued quickly, "I want to see you again. I'm going to jump."
"Hold on," I grabbed my coat and flung the phone on the wall, unknownst if it turned off or not.
It was true, his body was far up on the rooftop of a building, untouched by the warm glow of the streetlights and too far away from the sweet music that spilled through the streets.
Waving, I grinned a loud grin and hoped it didn't hurt when he slammed the asphalt.
Rather, the tidal wave of hurt slammed my chest.


I'm honestly suprised yours came out so coherent. Did you plan one sentence ahead each time, a few? I would just do a couple of words and post literally the first thoughts that would come each time.


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I think in a linear fashion. It makes me grounded from not being coherent but it also kills free creativity.
I also have a concussion and I can't think things like seeing shapes and lights when my eyes are closed, only thoughts that makes sense (well this sentence doesn't make sense) but it is how it is how it is.
I think:
>The ball is red. It blends into the red brick house.
rather than
>The ball is red. It is the blood of a sun god. It floats because it is a ship for tiny people.
And go figure, I started liking abstract art more to balance that lack of free-form creativity in my brain.


now, there came a time once when there was nothing left to eat and we were too young to manage on our own, so we filled our saddlebags with hot tar and lead and set out to make our fortunes in the great unknown. had we known what laid in store for us, perhaps things would have been different, but, as it stood, we were excited and looking forward to the long road ahead.

along the way, we encountered a tortoise and a very fast man who asked over somebody named patroculus. the tortoise was the cutest of things, munching away at flower petals with the utmost of stoicism, and we thought to ourselves "will we, too, one day reach enlightenment?". jokingly, my friend suggested that, perhaps, the reason our desire was a naivety that, by the time we reached an age where stories tell of people being "enlightened", we would regret our actions and wish for our younger innocent selves again. i replied that i doubted that was really a joke, even if we were to include badly formed black humour.

after all this arguing, we had gotten hungry and pulled out a couple of lemon cakes and slices of ham and made ourselves sandwiches. we followed it up with a quick desert of raw chocolate we found growing nearbye, brushed ourselves off, and stomped away into the sunset. soon there was no feeling left in our toes, as it had gotten to be somewhere around -200 degrees C, and we were forced to dig a snow shelter in the nearest cliff face. as luck would have it, this cliff was inhabited by werewolves, and we had a rousing othello tournament, passing the night away and distracting ourselves from the site of our now completely blackened toes.


Damn, that's an odd one. But I actually also find my thoughts to be a lot more grounded than what I wrote. Maybe it's because usually I think of something specific or concentrate on something. Writing my text I let it all flow.
Yours seems somewhere in between. There is an overarching story but you have weird things happening on the way.


when when didn't actually bind the verbs of prose and nature eschews the litmus scrapers ice also doesn't very good. in mainframe the elves escher in a trove of cash and essence of white stone. liminal elders sleep soundly when white bridges eat cake. sanctity of worlds is restful upon tonal pillars of marble young hair when also you do not follow instructions.


You wrote that little in 10 minutes?


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Maybe they're an elder trying to use a mobile.


came upon a green hill resplendent with the blood of the slain. broken bodies littered the landscape, robots, racks, and rhymes. I came upon a resplendent hill replete in codes of red. Green and blue visions cluttered my precision when I saw a clear road to derision.

Here and hereto, coming and came through, Greg quaked in his green quiver. A quiver of arrows, no. A quiver of quivering masses, fear of one to fear of none. Binary code running in sheets of, falling off of mountain sides, creating cities and destroying tides. Clear to create and quick to die, we go into the great unknown to try. Mars, Venus and Neptune too. A great fear, we consider for you. My child, I will say this once, a clear plan creates new trust.

Truth is a lie, and Knowledge is too. It makes me cry, and it must for you too. Clear to cry and clear to die, I cannot see any path to try. Read me, reamde. Kill me colonoscopy. A hexagonal fortress buttressed with callypygian butts I’ve drawn in my dreams. Dimples above the two cheeks, and a smile between them too. Women is a creature I adore, yet a set of humans I abhor. Clearly linked to a sense of happiness, yet so linked to cause unhappiness. I don’t know what to do. What to do /lain/? Why am I so vain?

s there no place where a man of curious predilections and injurious reflections can go? Who am I? Is that a reasonable question to ask? Or have I grown up enough to realize that it’s not? Shut the fuck up. Merry had a little lamb and she went e-i-e-i-o. Suck my cock! No thanks, I’m not autosexual, you smelly fag.

Why did people start hating the smell of cigarettes all of a sudden? Everyone smoked and then no one complained, but suddenly an authority figure says NO! and suddenly here we go. An innate hatred of a rather nice scent. Heady and vile, all in one. The smell of death to some. The blood of the slain reenters my brain as I glance back up to the top of this paragraph.

Did I have a complete stream-of-consciousness. Well, no. I can’t write as fast as I can think, so… It seems ridiculous to even assume what most presume. After all, how can the borogroves move betwixt the mables when the girls callow and callay?


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Third attempt first one ran out of time not ran out mean forget to set second one started then restarted not sure exactly why wanted to think some sort of feeling reminds me of morning pages something I've heard of to simply write out like this 3 pages or variable amount every morning they are supposed to free up the mind possibly? Not sure maybe is good, but seems like a lot of work. Maybe pros seem to be possible freeing up mind various possibly unknown benefits and other various things cons seem to be time and effort mainly likely worth doing. Low priority is this a good mindset? Should I prioritize like this what if it is innefective then what method would be more optimal? Would reording my prioritees help me? Help me what? What is my exact goal other than to simply accomplish goals to no higher purpose. It seeems trivial but still worth doing until concrete goal is established if concrete is not established this is fine. Current system seems to work for now try to anylyze more may lead to benefits maybe aybe not probably do either way out of practical interest. Why does this interest me? Likely because it is about myself and I like to understand myself. Why do I like that? Don't know yet need to think could be a lot of things lucidity while writing this temporarily disapeared now returned does that matter? Likely not will probably get in flow again odd to see this on one line with gedit like this. Probably can try to influence what I'm writing as I'm writing it probably won't not worth effort as this is supposed to be what it is. When skimming through the other post in the thread seemed to all start with scenery, which is interesting will read in detail and comprehension when I am done with this. I actually like the feel of this might do this more wonder if should type or write. Pros of writing are handwriting take longer more definitive can see hang writing changes if done consistently among other recomendations. Cons of writing are the possible lack of privacy and the time and effort taking compared to typing. Maybe it would be good for me? The exacts don't matter will likely add to routine ten minute feels like a while longer than I think it would doesn't matter this is relaxing and easy to do will likely help me sleep soon with new schedule needing to adapt maybe I should write in my post I didn't read the other post well at this point that isn't nescescary I sort of did read them but just kind of skimmed them. I'll read them nicely and comprehendly afterwords will likely do morning pages or just use gedit like this. Will decide seems beneficial thankyou OP for this probably wouldn't of tried this otherwise so I like your thread idea you are good poster.

Pure coincidence it ended like that. I know it doesn't sound like that, but that was when my timer went off.


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Poker octopus octopus tentacle squid tentacle cuttlefish ordovician devonian fish sand water fuck I forgot a timer:
Okay run run run chill bump du du du du table table I really like bgo let's bracelet table hey table fuck fuck fuck eyeballs my eye is dry dry balls i have dry balls dry pussy fuck. Okay, olay, okay. Yeah yeah Yeah I can rap to this shit yeah if I can type fast enough okay okay okay yo yo yo yo shut the fuck up bitch shut the fuck up please stop talking oh my gooood heey yo what's up my name is C-cup. I'll fuck you up real up yo hol up. Help me, man. I can't fucking see fuck fuck fuck fuck I'm drowning in the sea fuck fuck im trapped i can't look at me i cant fucking see the ropes tying me in trapped trapped like a fly in a net I'm a motherfucker who dont get no respect I try as I try and lo and behold the motherfucker got a cock full of gold and he flaunt it like a cock like a rooster in the morn and I cry And I cry because he dont want me adorn because I love fucking shooting kids Get out of here I can't hear you please why dont you come near so I can run you over with my car and my cock Like I don't give a shit man i don't give a fuck hell hey hell I should just die man i need to fucking die there's no point wait no soda, I love soda, vibrate in my throat like a bee getting a fuck As I suck off his stinger and he dies like the retards male bees are huh what a shame, I wish that I was like them so I'd fuck me a dame, then when I'm done, I can die in agonizing pain da da da da da. da da da fuck me, man. Smooch smooch smooch I want to make love right now waggles butt aha no this is fucked whyyyyyy whyyyy I need to concentrate on what I'm typing. I need to kiss someone's soft, wet lips. I'm so desperate. Fuck. This table. Stop fucking looking at me. Oh god oh god oh god it's gonna happen wooooo du du du du skreeeee just kill my ears I love you so much I love you so much I LOVE YOU SO MUCH ahhhhh yeha yehaw yeehaw. I can't love anyone who hates my country. You Es Eyy. I love the USA. Please love the USA. I love you, love yourself, love me. Let's fall in love, little baby jesus did it. I don't know the lyrics. Looooove is grand. It is pointless. But I'm bored. Why not. I feel nothing. I'm in love with you, you are my computer. I love my computer. Be my computer love is great, love is grand, I feel Jesus hold me when I'm lying in the sand. I feel the sandman tap me on my hand. He says, "hey, sam, listen, I'm your man. Just call me when you want to die and I'll give you a hand and a man who will slice your head and reap you 'til you're tan and the vultures got your ass and keeping you at their demand," so I say yes s and then I stop hearing her voice because she doesn't love me. She doesn't love me. And when I hear your voice, I want to cry a little bit. Oh when I think of you, I want to forget you. Forget you. Forget you. Forget you. Make me just forget. Forget.


Woke up sucking on my lips feeling mighty hungry for what im not sure i wanted to explode. It was last night i think i saw the flowers falling through the stars coming out of gods mouth. Only there to laugh at my state of mind rather than to provide me with any sort of rod and staff. I was there in that bar room, man shooting devilish looks my way screaming and laughing from his eyes i could feel the end of the scalpel touch my chest and release the emptiness inside. It could been when i fell and cut my head up for coconuts that i saw the truth, everyone is the same, scared and lost trying to find a way to except death before the end and they actually die. Androgynous freak, slippery fingers and useless thoughts. I wonder why im stuck in the corner again curled up in the fetal position. It could be the dogs of reality chasing me to the ends of the earth eating out my insides with great vigor, the mastication of beast. Why should i even try anymore. Im wasted in my mind that night when i used the foolish old men for drinks and a laugh I watched them beg me for mercy and more sweet touch as i brushed accross their shoulders. Then I got scared and screamed you are too eager as he went in for the kiss and i could see the drop in his soul like pennies in a fountain. What if the fountain was endless and rather than cycling cycling cycling the water it sprang up from eternity and filled up the whole earth to wash the filth away. I think it would be somewhat like a hurricane, im sure those in the southern purgatory where drunks and hookers go to die know exactly what I mean. Words that sound the same, know no no i dont want this warm breath pumping out of me any more reminding me i have to keep going on. Well there we were drinking milk and honey. Or was it some sorta mead im not sure. It tasted sour on my tongue like regret. I find it strange that i keep going even though all I feel is regret and sin. A fear of death is a waste of life and we should all know that. I remember watching the girls who sang poems in staggered prose that ran over each other but im stuck in my holden caufeild complex big and stupid my final symphony orchestra of wasted ideas and blood shot eyes kept up for nights on end thanks to the use of stims and the paranoia paranoia parafuckingnoia of the people watching me for what? nothing more than delusions of grandeur flying off the granual of my vacant head. I want more vacancy so i can at least try to fill it up with something useful. Like the loches of hair that bring down the bombing words of the elohim, majesties or something i think is how its translated.


I fuck and blood comes out but it is pink like cotton candy. I fuck the eyeballs too and vomit in her sockets. A big mass of green writhing mossy tentacles he looks like an octopus with 8 eyes. A giant mound of earth and a river with a boat on it. On that boat two fisherman fishing for tiny bloodied people swimming upstream like salmon on a fish ladder. I will enjoy looking at the sun with a giant hole through it. I dive in the water too and am gorrified to find the top is now a floor i cant break through and i am being beaten by tiny men. I suffocate right there and am eaten by vultures. Yes. A pack of wolves fucks my corpse, and drags my body to a tree where i am stuffed inside a knot in the tree. A birds nest inside and i suffocate the eggs which the mother can no longer reach and i am slowly crushing. The mother bird kills itself by drowning in the river i drowned in. black stuff seeps out and meets the black stuff i too seeped out unknowingly creating a baby. the baby walks around and feasts on dirt and trash and becomes a god of disgustung things. Super thin too because of worms and malnutrition. It irons its legs so it can walk better ever day before it steps outside. Its on a mission to kill all the low lives and impale them outside its castle made of disgusting things. When it sleeps it leaves the window open and the smell of rot puts it to sleep. Hed love to get it on top of a bunch of animal carcasses and he loves thd smell too. Truly a force to be reckoned with, and hes creating a giant painting as big as life itself which will be his magnum opus. And then he will die and that will be the finishing stroke on the painting. No other painting will compare, and all will fall before its magnificence.

this is probably super fucking edgy and i cant even stand to look at it so if theres grammar errors sorry, but i dont feel like proofreading.


I don't think edgy is the right word it kinda seems fixated on violence and death. I guess it would work as lyrics for a death metal track.

I like the idea of this thread. Maybe there should be a similar thread with active daydreams. I.e. just try closing your eyes and let your visual thoughts wander for some minutes and then try to write everything seen down, e.g.:

I see a camel in a desert, standing, left to it in my view a single palm. My eyes begin to loose focus tracing random loops, which is when I start seeing a roller coaster and follow it 3 loops with my eyes, until it peters out into a train track with a train driving fast through some canyons until it begins to follow the tracks into the sky where it transforms into a bird, an eagle which soon poops onto the world below it. The shit falling like a drop of rain hits the ground erupting in an atom bomb explosion.

^ this was roughly 30 seconds of letting my inner eye wander


it wasnt actually supposed to be violent. That active daydream thing you are doing is what i was doing too. I was picturing entire scenes with the atmosphere and everything. Im really bad at describing it apparently, like i know there was a lot of stuff i saw or thought of that i didnt type down cause it was overshadowed by the more extreme stuff and i had to keep moving. i know the overall feeling in my head was like two people in a really scummy and rotten place making love and the scent and disgust only fueling them. and i said something about a bird getting crushed but it was supposed to be sad. Like "how could i do that??".

im not a dangerous person in real life, when i am violent its never because of rage or me snapping. im not even a metalhead or anything, my favorite genre of music is pop!


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The thing about getting your head hit repeatedly as a kid is that I can't see anything except occasional blood flow.

If I was doing this to a song, it would be cheating, right?


For on the early days with the birds chirping in June little Alvin would kick his duck in the shorts. For what purpose he proceeded with the kicking of the shorts of the ducks no one may ever know, but he did indeed quite enjoy making that duck honk its ugly beak upon him. Inquiring into the mind of young Alvin one may find the ticking clock of a cuckoo bird nesting wherein his frontal lobe should be. Or at least this was the theory of the local farmers and apricots. Eternities, or at least what seemed like it, passed before Alvin would come of an age where he would outgrow the futile need to squander the very life of those poor miseeable ducklings, but once he had has finally done so he bore a great coat of honesty and pride and began waltzing about his village, trampling ocelots in his wake. You see, Alvin was never really awake, his storm is of a unique kind of fuckery and within his own head he often absolves himself. Crumbling under the pressure of the weight of his barren universe, Alvin decides to greet the doorman of his work with a largely tilted "fuck you" in his direction. O, what the hippopatomus bore!


I wonder why the black on the edges and the flashing returns to take what feels like sometimes never coming back to me and then, without your eyes here, i will wait, for before there is freedom and there will maybe come again. Tonight i feel wondering slowly, a train of thought, low cloud, and really wanting to see again, great past-pillars and the touch of a ghost in me. I am stirring and walking past, there is another wave holding us all the, great feelings of forever thinking, for death abides and rests, you say again to me return to forming bad and victims of revisiting, humble, just my remembering without borders, free noise to bank of it all, and storms to quell ghastly undead picking locations and having troubles and frozen dreams that return in coming to still baby futures and dregs, broken floors, maps, these all i feel come again. A face from within and presence here around burns close great defense to distance a one, unless it all


Free flowing free thinking my typing doesn't hold its water.

"What tinkers and tolls the old bell I wonder" the dark hooded man exclaimed.

You came for me? Yes you did didn't you, that's why these who think dark thoughts over exert the will to properly convey any kind of meaning. Does it mean anything? You mean nothing. Nothing to me at least. Nothing nothing. That's something I can't do. Just type type type, unless I write write write, it'll be fairly coherent, even now when I type there are things I can't say, the parts of me that want to speak won't. I'm too ashamed. Dark man, do tell me where this goes, where this goes. Down the train tracks, he would say, down the train tracks. So I skip and laugh while everyone else stays. Too bad I'm enjoying life I pray. I say this because I am scared. I say this because I don't want to be dead inside. I want to be alive. I want to. So I pretend. One two three one two three, breathe in breathe out, it feels good. Now and here. Here and now. The birds sing. Flimmer? That's the birds. The island doesn't exist. The pretty little girl without shirt. Without worries. She cares not for politics of the west. She cares not for bitter small arguments about sexuality. She laughs and enjoys the time she has. The snakes? Tell me again. Tell me again about the snakes. Oh if only some of you would understand how simple it was. How simple it is. It's all a matter of relaxation. Yes. Relaxation. My brain, that's who's telling you this. But no, I pretend, I imagine, I have control. Hahaha not for long. No no no. You take me down to the bay. The sepia world is where I live. Sea is the night sky. See the night. Don't be afraid. Hold me. I will hold my head close to your chest. It's been too long. I haven't done so in a while. Don't take me as being weak, I haven't been hugged in a while. There it is. The pink glow. Bars, lines, nothing is original. Think about it.

You're not special don't pretend to be - Ugly Mane

Thank you. You depressed me. I learnt so much. I don't know if I wanted to learn so much. But I did. Truncated sentences don't define me. They take me back to school. Oh god, don't tell me it was better when you were a kid. Being adult is awesome, enjoy it. Damn. Stop it with these feelings that are always there.


I added quotation marks and line breaks, as well as fixed some spelling. Other than that, this is what I wrote.


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Attempt 2

Here we go, is it planned or is it not? I don't know, let's go with the flow, yes, the flow of the mind, the mind is at sea, we like our little raft, oh how the sails push our mind about so we take them down , yes yes, no need for those. Now we have drifted to a pond, it's so nice and still let's just stay here. This is where you will die.

Where are you going? It's wild out there, the waves are rough, the salt is tough, and your skin won't survive. It's much nicer here. What is that? Why are you taking this? Why do you do this to me? I can't feel myself, where are you taking me? Oh how i wish i was back at the pond. These fish don't know love, they don't know the mind, no not my mind. It's so special yes?

To hell with that, I'm sure there are better places to put this. Take the mind, strangle it. It's being silly, don't delude yourself, what are you waiting for? Explore. The sea is only as rough as you make them. Dive in. Don't swim. Fall lower and lower. You can breathe underwater, it's fine. No need to shout, the noise is too loud. Schhhhhhh white noise screams down your ear, it pushes on the drums, don't think about it, it'll go away. Is there a war? Are there factions? Not till later. Wait now. You'll grow out soon enough, the water is warm right?

Metamorphosis Stage 1 and 2 have finished. The third part is ready. It's the toughest I've faced yet. Sometimes i just want to close my eyes and disappear into the bottomless sea. That's not what she said though. harsh life, tough times, I can't drown or she drowns with me. And oh how i love all of you. all you children of the atom. Children of our stars. Come, i want to embrace you. How the sweet small bodies cling to me. Not like this. Not here. This isn't the place nor time. This place in the wired doesn't like us.... is there anywhere i will be accepted. No, stop. Bisexual, transexual, pansexual, that's not you, you are not them. don't cry for help, you only want attention. Don't be like them.... now it drifts slower. I can see my raft. No reason to climb on when the whole sea has become dry land. There are a few lakes left with windy ripples dragging across the still bodies. They'll be sucked dry in a few years time. It's your mind. Keep it still. Oh how we fail to communicate with one another. There is no good form of communication between this place and the Other Side.


You know its really interesting to see how other people react to the way in which you think. The way people look at you and see your image. The way you look back at them and can instantly tell what they think by their facial expression. However they can never read your ambition. People always tell you to be successful and win and be the best you can at life. But they never tell you that you become old and watch your parents die and your family and friends die next to you. Which in essence is just mortifying to think about. So imagine a world where people don’t die. They don’t pass away. Imagine a world where the living lives for ever. Lifetimes last galaxies. What if nobody died? Would we learn an infinite amount of knowledge? Would the human race extend beyond its capabilities? Would we be free from our clutches that we create for ourselves. To think that maybe one day there will be an idea, someone born, that may change the world as any of us know it. They might be alive right now and we wouldn’t know. They could have been killed 5 seconds ago or even as you are reading this passage. The possibilities are endless to think about just like the human brain. We all have our limits just as evolution does. But what if we could evolve beyond evolution. WWHat if we could evolve beyond living organisms and become more than humans. Know everything and have knowledge in every area we come across. Biology chemistry and mathemtiatics, the way in which the world works. Perhaps if we could understand the fundamentals at its most basic form we could comprehend the huge possibilities that are hidden beyond our ignorance to change. Especially old people, man fuck old people. They never want change. They have lived their whole lives the same, with the odd technological advancement. But imagine if the human race had no need for old people any more and they were obsolete? Wouldn’t human be more efficient if we just killed people over a certain age if they had no benefit to society? It would make logical sense however it would not be ethical or morally correct in the slightest.


With great speed we fly along the river. Some nine hundred meters before us now the sudden break of the dense forests has become visible, and from that point on the horizon is purely sky, with a blood red sun slowly setting.

I look to Julia besides me. She looks afraid, afraid like I've never seen her, yet I feel a sense of triumph rather than pity or shame. I should be ashamed of all this. It was my doing in the end, and she never knew. Yet here I sit, basking in the last beams of sun of the day, of my life even, enjoying the moment.

Then the moment has arrived. Our vessel slowly descends on a rocky plateau stretching about a hundred meters between the river and the woods. The sound of the waterfall drowns the sound of the engine now, and seemingly soundlessly we stand up and hop over the edge of the vessel.

The sight from an island edge will never cease to astonish me, it has to be said. To see other chunks of land floating in the distance, among a vast sea of nothingness, is a mighty sight to behold. For a few minutes, we stand together and look. Then I turn to Julia and look her in the eyes. It is time.

I reach out my hand, and she grabs it. Suddenly, the shame finally kicks in. To know this is all my fault. She'll never know. Telling her would've only upset her, it wouldn't have helped either of us, but it still feels like a sin to not do so. I turn to her.

"Julia," I say, but the rush of water renders my words inaudible. She smiles, seemingly understanding, or well, understanding, for all she knows. I hestitate, but she does not. With a tug at my hand we lose our balance, and fall over the edge. Into nothingness.


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Beginning from seed of conscious river, sometimes things that rhyme can bring a shiver.
Salt water reeds blow in wind, the salt of feet stuck to your hands sting for washing.

I miss the prospect of having feet in hands, making use of nervous fingers, I miss the memory of stroking her behind that lingers. Memory of trees, sad song make your heart, play the part, push the cart, don't be clever, to be smart should be never.

Never the sea walked into the lake to bathe the days worries, like the days sunk into the evening to rest. Heavy head in strangers lap, seeking comfort in being forgotten before known. Cry into her gown. More heard than shown, the stones I carried, all the way home. Mud caked on feet, green of grass on knees, rosy cheeks and soft sighs letting sad smiles grow deep.


you've got a bit of talent there, i'd say


Craigslist friends women with weird teeth and face tattoos. Some kind of vladimir lenin hat and weird teeth and face piercing. Oily skin and weird piercings and teeth will get me hooked on meth (ten years older than shes says I assume) and love me for a few weeks until I have no more meth money. Sad slime blowjobs in a carpeted bathroom until I die in ecstasy having see the face of god and no I'll never have children I never had end of the family line (bells chime). I don't think my dad will ever be happy anyway his mommy died when he was only 33, and I think he used to look at old baseball cards he kept in a schoolkid safe every night after beating me for breaking an old tv. He doesn't care if I sleep with women with a mind full of screaming bees and close my eyes and dream this is sort of what it could be like if I were loveable old morrissey songs playing in my head now I swear to god I'll never see a movie again does nobody want my gee dee money. Who will read this when it's 3:45 in the morning and I still don't know fucking Solid Works or anything how will I ever get to space with this attitude I don't even eat breakfast and fucking Combos for dinner the second night this weeks but I think my mom still loves me sometimes. And my eyes hurt from the computer screen finally after maybe ten hours. Will people come with flowers and gawk at my weird face if I let myself die of starvation here. Is that better than suffocating on some other planet when a space rock or something smashes my face and sets me free and I will haunt Titan as great magenta ghost cloud for 6 billion years. Maybe the sun explodes first.


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im really sick of it all. i cant stop seeing people open doors or shadows or dots flying around. somethings in my head. stupid thoughts for a stupid me. i dont want to hear their music anymore. get the fucking bugs away from me. nobody is wearing any clothes and that makes me feel even more out of place. i saw a girl outside on just her bra and shorts, if i can even call them that, and i was wearing pants, a long sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt, and a hat. it was like 80 degrees f, but i cant show my skin. fuck fuck im not smart enough. ive tried writing this so many times, resetting the 10 minute clock. i dont want to write about myself, but nothing else is coming to mind besides unrelated words. panic. dishes. lady. burn. purple. sister. leave me be. i dont want to be a narcissist. a little bit addicted. i want to be dead, but i dont really want to die. i think. maybe i do. family pressure, i dont want them to hate themselves. if i were never hear to begin with… too bad that cant happen as far as i know. i havent masturbated in a week. pink and white frosted animal crackers with sprinkles. there is absolutely nothing wrong with liking things that are popular and you’re a spineless fucking bitch with no real argument for not replying to me when i asked how you would make them likable and still preserve the message of the text. they arent supposed to be likable. im glad i left that place. not really. im not glad, i guess. im never glad. im just gone now and im not bothered, so i guess that counts as glad. whatever. im afraid to eat and go outside. i want to stop writing about myself. those sunflowers around the huge barn. ive never seen something so stunning. sawing the swingset building down, i hope the girl was okay. fuck steam. consuming various forms of art and pretending i made them to feel accomplished. fuck it dude. i wish i hadnt quit tennis, i wish i had asked for a bass. coercing myself to feel a bit better.


I like the way the words flow from my brain and into written word, sometimes i like to think of the actual process involved. it appears as a thought and the moved through physical space through well learnt movements and transcribed into digital format, a real life conversion of data, then what is the data in question in its real form? haha nobody will kno i dont think, at least not for a while but it is a beautiful thought nonetheless. i like to dod this at work you see when i get bored, just write shit down in notepad. it is a loveley excersise to think of different things ahah but alas i havent spoken about much here, well nothing as fancifull as what others have wrote, perhaps reading form the thread has ruined the experiencefor me? or has it/ perhaps i just think differently?what does this imply? id unno really i guess i could write about random things and words and stuff that appear to my head by i feel as though it needs some sort of order and should be able to be understood by others and also by myself as i write it, how can one just write random word after word with purpose? i am not sure. do i wish i know? mmm perhaps would be nice to see how the others live from time to time but i know that i shouldnt think as such. we are all suffering here in this existence, the grass is greener and all that shit. i wonder if my 10 mins is up, you see thisis the kind of thing i think about does it ruin the excersise? maybe i duno but i love the feel of writing word after word with know reel (haha the english language) form or purpose ther than to write down what im thing


(Can't write)
I remember seeing the colors form around me like a spiral of dreams and objects that I will never see again. Nobody will see them except me and I only sought them out when I saw the melodies of life sing its darkly lullaby. It swayed me to the steps of a two-step waltz and never let go of my hands and self. I do not enjoy this dance as it scares me since my infancy to my current age. It never wants to let me go but I know one day it will slip. But as it will slip along goes with the colors that once inspired me to continue. The journeying of the seas and ideals of the world around. The classification and the shadows of reality that will; one day break down and everything around me with my skewed vision will go down with it. Similar to the ideas of numbers, the ghosts of its tangibility will just disappear. I wonder if this is how we humans interpret our ideas. In a fashion similar to reality but within our minds. I like to call this the internal reality where ideas, beliefs, and faith just pop up out of nowhere and eventually our hands erect the physical resemblance of these ideas. Then, other will learn from it and get inspired to see on what they can create within their own foundations of an internal reality. I think this is the reason on why I can enjoy the tinkering of computers and creation of programming. It allows my ideas to flow and b heard to others, something that I cannot do with my lack of verbal communication. Computers speak to me in the aforementioned language of colors. As I continue to hear the sounds of its movement and inner soul, the colors dance in a fractal motion and cloud what I see. I can feel the grasp of this waltz lessening and I ponder if this is a curse or a blessing. Do we all think the same? I don’t think so and I know one day we will be united more uniformly but until that day comes then I’ll continue divulging myself in my world full of circuits and the calculated noises of the real world. If there was a real; world. Why do we all have to be so unusual with quirks and how can we ever hope in uniting with others if we continue to push our ignorance and lack of true empathy. No matter what I do or you do, it will end the same and these results will show on the battering of corpses and the superstitions of past old beliefs. We need to strive more for the better men of our society. We need to dance with others, no matter how different we sway, or the difference in rhythm. As I continue to type, the continuing flow is driving my internal reality to speak to you.


>Just write the first words that come to your mind
To describe your dreams? Or more general writing?


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10 minute start ironic big fag man sits on bed all day does nothing will go nowhere even though he wants to in life. self-torturous piece of soykaf deserves only a bullet in the head self flagellating waste of space. Listens to cool techno music thinks hes hacker man but has no motivation to do anything anyway. Likes to claim he is intelligent and I guess he is but who gives a fuarrrk when you do nothing except shove your dick down your wifes throat when shes not pissed off at you and then fuarrrks around on his computer all day. want to go somewhere but never will, wants to be someone but never will. i should just give up on being the person i want to be because i have no discipline or anything to get me there. i even tried to read self discipline book but it didn't help. this is cool music, makes me feel like I'm in ghost in the shell or something like that. maybe i just need to calm down. 10 minutes sure is a along time, am i writing too much compared to all the other people in this thread? why in my head is it a competition again? I think telling yourself off is the way to motivate yourself forwards but I'm just too comfortable. life is suffering. I want things that I don't want to go and get. I eternally desire things that I cant be bothered to reach for.


>>2840 (cont)
Kill me glitterboy cuntfuck. Atleast I can whisk myself away with my cool techno music produced by people who actually have some talent and work ethic and pretend I'm going to become some really cool dude for a few hours on my days off. then when I get back to work I can think about all the things i have to do on my days off to move forward. whats the point when i can just roleplay in my mind listening to gay baby music huh???
no point. end it now. what can i do. maybe I should take drugs and just mess my mind up to get it working better. Just because I'm doing better than a lot of people doesn't mean I'm doing well. I've been memed into actually truly believing i can do better but honestly I doubt it. I move form one thing to the next in my head, i want to be cool underground drift hacker man rich business rebel sex god who rides motorbikes and is member of the wealthy elite with a harem. I'm a delusional cumstain and a disgrace to myself. why do I torture myself. Why cant I actually try improving or just give up on it, my mind is hell. fuarrrk cunt how long does 10 minutes take. my meta thoughts ruin everything, the music stopped. I can hear the fan behind me and the wind blowing outside my window. i can smell the mosquito coils burning away outside my open window as well. A new song started, this time with some drum beat thing. I think i wont like it as much as the last two. atleast i got all of that out of my system. it was the 9th dvd not the 6th u stupid cunt. dogs are growling again. This is some good stuff. This music. Think about what to write gotta be cool you fuarrrk. Am I even doing it ironically any more? who knows. certainly not me. my self censor ego glitterboy in my head wouldn't let me actually post what I really think. I don't really know what I really think anyway. I think I need to get real messed up. fuarrrk. 10 minutes when will this end, when


>whatever comes to your mind
I can't imagine '(start . |0130|) this is going to end well.
There's a pilon symbol on the F9 key, other myteries stand nearby. A finger urging silence, a glowing pope hat, who the fuarrrk designed these? God i hope they're not standardised.
The gentle buzz of a flurescent light comforts me in the night I know lurks outside the shaded window. Murmerings flirt at the border of perception, probably just the noise floor interpreted as speech. Possbily home invaders; extremely unlikely.
A washing machine? No, it's to late. Yet it seems rhythmic.
Oh, for fuarrrks sake, I'm staying near an airport.
Forgot about that.
Two.something mins remaining. Now two.
This was meant to be fiction?
I can't post this soykaf.

Just read Dune or something, you'll find nothing more here.
'(end . |0140|)
(not quite yet.......................


The man who jumped into the pool of strangulation is now dead. Nobody can find his body in that mess, and they'd rather not get tiedup in looking for it either. Fifty winters ago i found the heart of the palace and not a day has passed since i didn't thin of that room or even hear word of it in passing. They yell to me from the bows and sterns of ships and i cant hear them over the muffled drips of concelytine airways in our home. Five five five five red must get and ghen U university is not home and it's a good thing because they'd wear their silly jock coats and get funny looking haircuts too. You want ta water? Wll give ne the as a gate house, pointed elderman sits on his stump passing letters and coin and five feet away sits his pike, just as seventeen million years ago the dodocarious roamed the teutonic plane ? Aye. Freedomont hour giving me trouble well we'll just have to wish it was again hahaha vern is a name ive heard before but cannot place the origin. Who needed to tell me that? Well it's alright. The smoldering moldering holster retains five points gum and green men are making a stake for her ownership. Boo bobble windy hey lol wheew let's hurrry it up and i didn't want to reach bear hunt. Captain Olmec aboards the wave soon, let's all give him a nice wink and a bow. For glory. For the sun of Eris let's all give a hoot and a howl. Haven't come back yet to my bush house and tried to spie on the direction of the rest of them gooooo Fizzle out, their free drums play in the years where we got greeted whoah! I just remembered uu wanted to insert a omment about Latvians and Zkk but i never found a place do it now. blue frew hoo hoo. This is not a very smart way to type. How does the winter get its winter. We go skiing i never got to go skiing. I don't really want to so you can be okay but when it comes to it


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>Just started my timer, let's get rolling!. I was playing osu a minute ago But I'm too tired to even be decent, not that i'm any good anyway. I don't really know anyone else who plays osu, I've had the game for a few weeks now and the best I've beat is 3 stars, From the looks of it that's not very good. I guess people have been playing for a lot longer than me though so maybe I'll get better. Video games are wierd because I am terrible at them even though it's pretty much all I do. Like I've been playing counter strike for years but i'm only ranked gold nova 3. It's pretty depressing when you work at something for a long time and never get much better, I normally like to think practice makes perfect but I guess I prove myself wrong in that regard. If anyone has any tips I'd appreciate it. Oh yeah the reason I'm tired is because of my job which I hate do there's something, should I just go on a rant about work? nah that seems boring to me. hmmm running out of stuff to ramble about. lemme write a short story to fill the remaining 3 minutes 58 seconds.

>It was a cold night, and Sam was walking home from the train station. He was smoking a cigarette, marlboro red as usual, and listening to music through his headphones. He liked listening to ambient music as it calmed his nerves and after what had happened that night he needed calming more than anything. Well besides the nice warm bed at home he was thinking about. It started to rain. Sam, noticing this, suddenly stopped in the middle of the street. Just him and the street lights. As the smooth synth sounds of Brian Eno mixed with the pattering sound of the rain, Sam couldn't help but smile to himself. And in that moment, despite all that had happened he felt at peace.

>That wasn't very good at all. Oh well

that's all I wrote


At 2'oclock I stop typing. In the meantime I release. My fingers little diodes, flashing and snapping at the will of my neurons. My mind, my tongue even, rolls in my head,
and sounds come loose. They bounce down and around a complex architecture, needlessly outputting the same thought in 3 different places. My voice drones in my own imagination.
I feel my tongue bouncing off the top of my mouth. I can sense my fingers magnetically driven to each key like it were a ouija board.

Driving is strange. Take a moment to ponder the natural ability every human seems to have behind the wheel. Maybe just over 100 years old, the modern car may have been here
for 3 generations, but has it been here long enough to be a reflex that each child knows at birth? I learned how to drive rather instantanteously (not without errors), and
to learn a manual gear shifter, was even quicker.

A dog knows how to hump a leg without being shown. A cat will swat your china off your table without having been told. A human will be driving by 16, only plagued by it's
unnatural and evolved senses of delusion and paranoia. Fear, likely a symptom of an enlightened cortex run amok, has crippled and elevated humanity. We all rose as spikes,
like long grass, indefinitely, our towers meant to give us a better purview of all we dominate, and simultaneously separate us from those whose towers were not quite as big.
It is lonely at the top, they say. That is how they like it.

Humans are their own greatest enemies and the greatest humans use that against their kin. I saw something about morality higher up on the board - is it immoral to 'cheat' in
such a competitive environment? North American livelihood has shifted from the sweat of your brow to the furroughedness in thought of your brow - if you are not a genius
you are not qualified it would seem - so is it immoral, or rather, unethical, to stay competitive with enhancing drugs? Humans left the natural world behind and commune with
it has become a lost art. If our minds were to evolve it would have been thousands of years ago. Our all forms of evolution today external? Is technology our only form of
evolution going forward? Has our development been externalized? Our bodies expendable, our minds to be preserved? Is facebook there to record my sentience and reintegrate it
into a digital super mind?


Ten minutes start now, and I already stumble on my words. Before writing this, I kind of thought about how this would go and whatnot, and I already knew that I'd be writing about the process of thinking about what to write. Beyond that, it's kind of a mystery. What can I write in the course of ten minutes? Perhaps, something interesting and coherent, perhaps it's all just going to be inane ramblings of a tired person

Second paragraph because I want this to be at least semi-readable. I wonder if I'll have enough paragraphs wait, scratch that, I mean enough time to write all of what I want, or if I'll just end up stopped by the time and not any time left for myself. The time is ticking slowly, so I currently think that I won't end up doing a good job of filling up these minutes. I read one or two of the free flow thhoughts below, and I am a bit scared. Scared of somehow being inferior in my thoughtt, even though such a notion is silly, especially noting the unpreparedness. Well, I can't say that I am entirely unprepared. I had this thread open for a couple of days now, but I made a conscious effort to chase away any thoughts about it that might arise, so I didn't get much beyond the initial thoughts.

I don't want this to be just a conversation of how I feel about my own thoughts in this thread, there's a lot more to talk about, but I am not sure about how much I am willing to share with you. I write a lot, and I write fast, and I'd like to think that it's because I think fast and I am smart, but that's almost delusional. People are a lot more that just their ability to write stream of consciousness texts, and of course, when I make it sound silly, it sounds much more obvious. I hate it when people try to make things silly like that, it can usually be done from the both sides, and it seems to be a way of avoiding actual feelings and actual arguments about whatever topic is at hand.

I just increased the size of this box to better see the amount of text I am writing, and now I'm wondering if it was an entirely useless idea, but I want to see how what I've written looks, so it's not all that bad. There's not much time left on the clock, and that's perhaps for the best. I feel like nobody will ever read this, which means that I could say something personal, maybe confess love to someone. But I've done that in the past, and that's not turned out that well. I mean, not that it turned out badly, it's just that the person didn't return the feelings, but that's fine too. Can't ask of people to feel a certain way, can you? And in the cases that you do ask, that's really a whole lot of entitlement, which is not what this post is about.

This post is about something magical, about something that we don't think about often, about something that I've not decided on, so I keep making statements about it without knowing what it is. Maybe I am just thinking about the free flow of thought we don't get enough of, but that is possibly a good thing. Thinking about what we say before we say it is good, even if just to evaluate our arguments, but we all know that doesn't happen much, now does it? Maybe, someday, there will be some happiness on this world, but today is not the day. Today is just another day that we wasted together online, but the next one's going to be better, and if not the next one, the one after that, right? My time is about to run out, both for this post
Dunno, weird thing I wrote there. Won't re-read it, partly because I don't want to and partly because I remember the idea. Weird how this addendum I am writing has a very similar feeling to the post itself, my thoughts coming pretty fast as I write this, perhaps even faster than the post itself.


Don't worry about it even if they did come it wouldn't matter so just live that life or whatever and see what happens, they'll come, they'll come but don't worry don't worry even if they come
don't worry don't worry so when you see them and they come they come and they come and see you don't worry even if they come they see you if that happens you should see
it and it will be there
and it will be there
I don't know what else to say to you just wait and see and see and see and see don't see with your eyes just go and find it it will be there don't worry
its all over soon don't worry just look and find and see and see and see and see and see and find that opening the gate and you will see and you will see
don't forget don't worry don't think don't feel don't worry don't see don't look don't think don't thont dof 9:57 is the time that it is and even if you see
those flying insects
don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry look look ten five four three two one zero and you will see see see see see its almost over now it will be almost over soon
and once its over its over and you don't have to worry and you wont be able to worry and you will see and you will see and you will see and you will see and you will see
don't worry
don't worry
it wont hurt
its all over soon
its all over soon
just see


-Interesting. What other dreams you were having?
-This time I was approached by demons. The ones I told you were bothering me in my sleep, remember?
They kept saying something about the pursue of knowledge and were laughing mockingly at the human nature. The laughs were so strong that I could not catch everything that they said, moreover, they started to send strong acute noises at my ears for some reason. They said ”You are not ready, filth. This will teach to invade our domains.”
I was utterly lost when I heard this. All that I believed and researched about the issue crushed in an instant. As you can recall, I told you that I thought that THEY were dragging me to their own minds. But for what I could hear, *I* drove them inside my head.
-Did you not said that they told you invade THEIR domains?
-Oh, yes, I forgot. It seems that when I summon them inside my head, I am invading their own minds. They minds, much like the gods that I talked about in our other meeting, exist within everything and everthing exists within them. So, when I try to summon them, it is as if I would open a portal to their own dimensions
-Understood. Please, continue.


Went creative and had another 10min. session:

-As I was saying, they told me (without words, mind you) that humans were not properly organized to pursue their goals regarding knowledge. It appears that (as they called it) the Path to the True Wisdom has no end and no beggining. When one starts to walk through it, it does simply because it wants to walk it.
Intellectual goals, however, can be reached. They are some sort of monoliths that you come across when you walk the Path (understand, I am talking figuratively here. There is no Path or monoliths, they are physical examples that I use to explain such events)
They said that the humans problem is that they cannot (or want not) reach consensus. They believe that knowledge can be mastered and yet walk the Path of knowledge in a non-stop frenzy. Laughing, the demons said that humans will never enlighten themselves if they do not understand what they are doing, and this self-ignorance will stop us from becoming What We Truly Are.
-What did they meant by “becoming What We Truly Are”?
-That I could not understand. It is related however with the comprehension of one thoughts, which will lead to a domino effect, allowing us to understand others, and even non-existant or yet-to-be thoughts. They sustained that our mind is finite and can be mastered, but our ridiculous thrive for understanding the finite is only dragging us away from it.


>-Did you not said that they told you invade THEIR domains?
Better as: Wait, they said that YOU invaded THEIR domains?

>(...)our mind is finite and can be mastered, but our ridiculous thrive for understanding the finite is only dragging us away from it.
Meant infinite in the last one.


infinite jest set out on pilgramages to sinking lands. Inlets, isles, swamps, bogs, all manner of lowly places. Rife with even lowlier beings. Each step away from the weight of duty and further on into the mists of anticipation. What would Ifind in there? A box? Pandora's? Maybe some snake oil like all the rest tend to sell to us. But even then, many monks ago I stopped being told. Like the itchy grime that so adamantly clings inbetween the tiles of dirty restrooms. Me and the tiles. Alone, in a flourescent interrogation as I sit with my spoon. The cradle of everything that makes me and unmakes me. Everthing dims as I hold a light to it, and go on my chemists march straight into oblivion.

Corners, rough, necessary, defining. This is my word without them. Everything rounded and feathered by pixels upon pixels until everything is just a soft maze of inconsequential turns. Platitudes. My life is a platitude. Well intended, but often sorely disconnected from the truth.


Pain, pain, searing pain, undying torment. Joy, wondrous joy! Terrible and austere in its many-headed nature. The many-headed Goddess has names in every civilization, but ours is simply Woman. Together but apart, they confound the brightest bottom-uppers, feeling their way through the world, denying Nature axiomatic, affirming Nature exorganic. Woman, the many-headed Goddess does not contain all. She are become a coven of sinister intersubjective delight. Three women contain a lusty hell, become the rule of many in opposed opposition to the Joyful Argumentors, jammed apart but together in the pursuit of asymptotic objectivity. Two facets to an infinitely faceted reality, a facet contains the whole. The whole contains nothing. Nothing is perfect.

Are all women communists? I read some snippets of the Commie Manifesto. The black and white, not Manichean as pseudo-intellectuals like to say, that belief structure was more than that. But the cultural memory of failed religions burns brightly in ancestors' hearts. A hatred indifferent to love, composed by life. "Everything is political", history is just composed of two-sided class wars. No. There are the thinkers who love. Who love purely and wholly. Who do for the sake of the doing itself. Embrace eternity. Embrace yourself. Oscillate quickly between enlightenment and nirvana. Snuff out the candle and then fuel the fire. Oscillate, oscillate. Create.

Let there be light out of the void. Let the void become the light.


sweet dream


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dream n walk... its bad.really bad