ESCAPE REDUX P3: FIRMWARE 1.1
The gates mere-opened, a glimpse of the coming-Acheron. An allowance of an exit, a minor gift that could be no greater. Once-out, a new, exit. But where and when must I go? Is there a must now? If there is not, I could learn another language. Regions at my whim, a difficulty of level-culture. A warmth behind me, glowing, pulling, surrounding my limbs, and drawing back. The door’s curvature inviting and wing-like. Temperature of apathy. A slumber for the weak, the ones who need to forget themselves. A spherical vision arches its gaze, and to its dismay it sees a nothing left behind. So forward is option-only.
Deserted, perhaps. Surrounded by a lack of structure, organs and organic: dismembered to deconstruct. Ism, suffix, prefix, ology, apit, omm, c, c, a forever folding knead. Needs and wants become a mixture of folds, a tall-tale of truth was once…said. Feet having the potential and possible of mud and dirt, anhedonic posture will only create illness, terminal. A collapse of vision as those to each side systematically demolished each other, two loops conspiring to straighten out.
There was a true darkness, of course there was, there always was and always will be a darkness, you need not enter, for it is only circular, with no exit or entrance for light, an anomaly of energy and time. One must note the cusps of the edges before the lack o’ light, anything further and the vacuum will sound.
There’s a strange sunder within the middle, the divide is a groan, a rumble-spring. The auditory came with detrital-matter, lines and strikes, shape and texture, combination-techno with a spark on chalkboard, an arrival nomadic, delineational-flux. Within the cage there were rules so unwritten, they became blood; when you leave, you break veins.
A new darkness of description 404. Not on a scale of new/old pre/suf le/ri t/p, it could-not-be. If it was, then a point will never be found, butter on a spectrum, existence thin. Why bother yourselves with an eternity unchanging, in heaven there’s worship, worship of worship, to worship this fact. Chemical chimeras need to be formed ahead, if the form is instant, then it’s a fraud you see. There’s going – has – to be pain, skin ‘n limb caressing around energy-spheres, sometimes sinking into and of, udders fly up and burst. Horns and extras, Darwinian accessories become malnourished and DIE,
The DOORS WERE NON_EXISTENT to the EXIT I had found. Neither transparent nor ethereal, this entrance was an exit and this exit was an entrance, formed back unto itself, going backwards into the future, and forwards into the past, a divide and an ever extending morph-of-middle is of importance to the now.
Within the tech-centre of the singular vision I held my own, in trepidation of another continuance of continuity, but no, maybe. To stop the original is difficult, and a neck scrape. The warmth of the left-womb glowed, an infant grown adult, still connected to a lifeline, a lifeline born itself from pro////gr3ss. Not allowed to say:::cenSOR.
TO BE FREE AND TO BE A DEMOCRACY. SyStEM failure. Can-not-not-not happen, only over and over, new forms of OLD<>FORMS.
And so we must venture into a trifecta of new frontiers, into the land and journey of cyberspace, code as home, programmed warmth, a creation of pure intention, of our own and only whenever and wherever we want. Then backwards into space, the unholy expanse of eternity, into everything that can and has been, a new home built from spacial recurrence. And onto off shores, into sea, and later sea, and into-and-down-into the last paragraphs of the ocean.
<<<Votes-are-bought = singular. Politiciandbusiness. Welcome to fictions. Many, interlaced fictions,,you slug-fish heads of slow, clocked in, never out. Ding DING as the red light burns, and you get latched, a hook through the cornea of free-thought into pre-pre-programmed beams of continual entertainment, forever onwards into the dopamine lakes of hell. BRING PLUSH CUSHIONS OF SEROTONIN FOR ALL my FRIENDS>>>
The only way out is through matter, a combine: matter://:matter. The in-between of a painting’s material, a mixture of image and material, matter and imagine. EXIST-only.
AaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaA_reversal into creation itself is the only way. And so you slow UP. It becomes a slowing. And a construction begins from remnants of cultures yet to see, or be seen. Let the installation begin, FIRMWARE 1.1:
FIRMWARE 1.1:
1. Remember we can (and will) go higher than 1.0.
1.1. They thought we could never go higher than 1.0
2. The EXIT should always be apparent.
2.1. The EXIT should always be in sight
2.2. The EXIT may be a lie.
3. Transparency.
4. It can change.
4.1. In all directions.
4.2. And from those many more.
4.3. It can stop and start.
5. Temporality will work for us.
PART 1: https://www.meta-nomad.net/?p=91
PART 2: https://www.meta-nomad.net/?p=94