I know you're fucking someone else.
... and i dont care.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Bukkake for the misanthropic psychonaut soul.
This is the winter of our discontent. At times, snow falls, and at times, darkness. How much longer do i seek you, o proud and taciturn, house by house, door to door? A swarm of maggots for your corpse. How much longer, corner to corner, street by street? I dont care if you dont, I wont say it if you wont say it first, I advance to attack, your terrible armies with banners, you implacable cruel beast, I cherish that coldness which makes you even more beautiful, ha doo doo doo shaking like milk turning over blue. lets go to bed. Tahir ul maulvi had it pegged just right. So, to begin.
Strapped in, launching hyperstitial metatemporal probes, beta stage boosters at maximum thrust, guidance is internal, leaving terraspheric field in t minus eleven, ten, nine, nine, nine, eight, eleven, eleven is what it was like to see the face of my own stability, wearing shadows, the reflection of my own reflection distorted and eleven, nine, eight, seven, moving me with a sound, opening me within a gesture, eleven, holding a light, lead me through each gentle step, step by step, by inch by loaded memory, thine oils, the chief spices spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; myrrh and aloes, til one and one are one, eleven im heading back home, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, four, four, four-ty six and two, eleven, eleven, ignition sequence starts, six five, four, three, two, one, supernaut!
(If i were a cinnamon peeler I would ride your bed and leave the yellow bark dust on your pillow; but I being poor have only my dreams, tread softly)
Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples; for I am sick of love. A book of verses underneath the bough, a jug of wine, a loaf of bread- and thou beside me singing in the wilderness. In the cities, a Lovecraftian nightmare, all steel and concrete and ineffable horror, angles that bend and warp the mind which dares conceive of their reality. But nature does not use steel. Or sharp edges. Abandoning the established paradigm of construction, we must learn to recognize the patterns in the dust, in the death throes of every moth in every flame. Tracing the spirals of the moth smoke, we are confronted with eternity.
It is in our nature to seek out the unknown, to spiral out, to ascend and evolve. Past and present, we are all made of stars. Quod sum eris, we are all in this together now. As below so above. And beyond. Restoring sight to the blind watchmaker, we must be the eyes of God, not dead but dreaming, like Cthulhu who sleeps dreaming in R'lyeh. I'a! I'a! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. The goat with a thousand young waits below, and the great hunter, above. For us it is to seek beyond.
N=R*fp*ne * Fl*fi* Tc*L
And what is life? The criteria by which we judge our surroundings must be flexible, open to change. Without change, we stagnate, rot, and decay. The Earth heaves across the heavens, marking time, the grim meathook descending ever closer, swinging over all the rot and spoilage. As we pile it ever higher and deeper, we make a leprous, desperate grab at the high blue vault of the heavens, begging for a purge, a great upheaval of the continents, the cities, the filth. Im praying for rain. A black hole sun to wash it all away, all of the everything. We must needs the cleansing waters. There are no inbound messiahs like '. (int)$value . "' and c.categories_id = cd.categories_id 君達の基地は、全てCATSがいただいた。Prep launch codes u7#
and cd.language_id='" . (int)$languages_id ."' order by sort_order, cd.categories_name D4#@ 这是bukkake录影
lock cmpxchg8b eax not a typewriter p0d b4y 9or al p;es RET o9 pod bay doors HAL! そろそろ終わりだろう ed_func_nullll$#% 42 t4k33 0f ev z0g gIz 點擊這裡得到瑞克滾動 ytmn.d.
MANDALA#0: Possible thermal failure (MANDALA on fire ?)
Strapped in, launching hyperstitial metatemporal probes, beta stage boosters at maximum thrust, guidance is internal, leaving terraspheric field in t minus eleven, ten, nine, nine, nine, eight, eleven, eleven is what it was like to see the face of my own stability, wearing shadows, the reflection of my own reflection distorted and eleven, nine, eight, seven, moving me with a sound, opening me within a gesture, eleven, holding a light, lead me through each gentle step, step by step, by inch by loaded memory, thine oils, the chief spices spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; myrrh and aloes, til one and one are one, eleven im heading back home, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, four, four, four-ty six and two, eleven, eleven, ignition sequence starts, six five, four, three, two, one, supernaut!
(If i were a cinnamon peeler I would ride your bed and leave the yellow bark dust on your pillow; but I being poor have only my dreams, tread softly)
Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples; for I am sick of love. A book of verses underneath the bough, a jug of wine, a loaf of bread- and thou beside me singing in the wilderness. In the cities, a Lovecraftian nightmare, all steel and concrete and ineffable horror, angles that bend and warp the mind which dares conceive of their reality. But nature does not use steel. Or sharp edges. Abandoning the established paradigm of construction, we must learn to recognize the patterns in the dust, in the death throes of every moth in every flame. Tracing the spirals of the moth smoke, we are confronted with eternity.
It is in our nature to seek out the unknown, to spiral out, to ascend and evolve. Past and present, we are all made of stars. Quod sum eris, we are all in this together now. As below so above. And beyond. Restoring sight to the blind watchmaker, we must be the eyes of God, not dead but dreaming, like Cthulhu who sleeps dreaming in R'lyeh. I'a! I'a! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. The goat with a thousand young waits below, and the great hunter, above. For us it is to seek beyond.
N=R*fp*ne * Fl*fi* Tc*L
And what is life? The criteria by which we judge our surroundings must be flexible, open to change. Without change, we stagnate, rot, and decay. The Earth heaves across the heavens, marking time, the grim meathook descending ever closer, swinging over all the rot and spoilage. As we pile it ever higher and deeper, we make a leprous, desperate grab at the high blue vault of the heavens, begging for a purge, a great upheaval of the continents, the cities, the filth. Im praying for rain. A black hole sun to wash it all away, all of the everything. We must needs the cleansing waters. There are no inbound messiahs like '. (int)$value . "' and c.categories_id = cd.categories_id 君達の基地は、全てCATSがいただいた。Prep launch codes u7#
and cd.language_id='" . (int)$languages_id ."' order by sort_order, cd.categories_name D4#@ 这是bukkake录影
lock cmpxchg8b eax not a typewriter p0d b4y 9or al p;es RET o9 pod bay doors HAL! そろそろ終わりだろう ed_func_nullll$#% 42 t4k33 0f ev z0g gIz 點擊這裡得到瑞克滾動 ytmn.d.
MANDALA#0: Possible thermal failure (MANDALA on fire ?)
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Still Right Here.
Hello meat puppets. Many a moon has passed since I posted here. Much of personal import has happened. I got a bachelor's degree, got a job, got into a good graduate program, left the job, left my country, had someone leave me, and had someone find me, if only for a short short while. But its been a lifetime's worth of love. And heartbreak. And learning. I'm tempted to break this post into several shorter posts, maybe I should have posted here more. But then again, if I hadn't made the mistakes I made then it wouldn’t be me sitting here typing this out (with sincere apologies to Sam Lake). And I cant keep running away from myself. Time to pay the piper and all that guff, ess? Be seeing you around.
“Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer; the secret of redemption lies in remembrance.”
“Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer; the secret of redemption lies in remembrance.”
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Pwn4g3
She pwns me.
Like Astarte, Inanna, and Kali rolled into one.
I am dumbstruck, shut up and sat down by her.
She has so many facets, so many many little idiosyncrasies and details, so many beautiful ways to capture the light and simply revel in it, so much that Im lost before I can even begin to comprehend her.
When she dances, she doesn't care who's watching.
She's having fun, she's in her element, she's in the groove, all up in the zone and she dont care.
And its awesome.
I dont even want to keep up.
Im happy to just watch her move.
She strikes me stupid.
She's the kind of girl I'd walk down three miles of bad road to get to.
Eight thousand miles, if it comes to that.
'Cos she's my little china girl.
My crush with eyeliner.
The yin to my yang.
The one I'd sail my ships around.
My best friend.
And she's not perfect, no.
But she's so good she shuts me up.
Pwn4ge.
Like Astarte, Inanna, and Kali rolled into one.
I am dumbstruck, shut up and sat down by her.
She has so many facets, so many many little idiosyncrasies and details, so many beautiful ways to capture the light and simply revel in it, so much that Im lost before I can even begin to comprehend her.
When she dances, she doesn't care who's watching.
She's having fun, she's in her element, she's in the groove, all up in the zone and she dont care.
And its awesome.
I dont even want to keep up.
Im happy to just watch her move.
She strikes me stupid.
She's the kind of girl I'd walk down three miles of bad road to get to.
Eight thousand miles, if it comes to that.
'Cos she's my little china girl.
My crush with eyeliner.
The yin to my yang.
The one I'd sail my ships around.
My best friend.
And she's not perfect, no.
But she's so good she shuts me up.
Pwn4ge.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Great Balls of Fire!
I am busy now. Semi-intelligible post with clever insight into my complicated creative processes to follow. soon. Meanwhile, this news story precipitated a mad rush to my workstation, so I could post a link to my blog, and illuminate you. Seriously. This could be the next big breakthrough for global warming. And to think the answer to global warming was literally right there in front of us. Truly, this is joyous news for most women (and some unfortunate men) everywhere. OMFGLOLCATS!!~
Saturday, April 26, 2008
In the future, there wil be robots.
So I'm surfing the net the other day, and I'm reading up on Ray Kurzweil and transhumanism and Kevin Warwick and awesome cool rad stuff like that right, and I'm thinking how cool it's gonna be in the future. The coming singularity and how its going to transform the very definition of what it means to be human. Powerful supercomputing devices seamlessly integrating with your mind, forming a separate 'intelligent' neural network that can interface with the myriad digital devices planted across the environment, exchanging information at hyper-real speeds, and putting us more in touch with our surroundings then we ever thought possible. Awesome. I could go on and on about it until I eventually hyperventilate and choke myself to death so instead i thought I'd blog about it, and get all the hoo ha out of my system. So I'm typing and googling away to glory, when I notice this article about something called a 'Grim Meathook Future'. Now the grim meathook future is a pretty scary concept. But what's really quite ironic, to me, as an Indian, is the fact that the global community is only now waking up to this very real state of affairs. Grim meathook future? How's about the very real, very scary, grim meathook PRESENT being inflicted upon more than half the world's population? Forget about the idiots in Israel and Palestine and the fucking morons in Afghanistan and Iraq, fighting over land and oil, what about the millions fighting for a share of food and basic human amenities in places like Somalia, Sudan, Uganda, Kashmir, Bihar, Assam, Tibet, Myanmar, North Korea, East Timor, Kosovo, fuck it, just hit google earth and pick a random spot on the globe. Its the way we are now. We're living your "future" dammit! And I'm reading all these righteous, 'aware', worried essays about the impending 'grim meathook future' and I have the irresistible urge to point and go 'ha ha' like Nelson on the Simpsons.
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