13 July 2021- 20 November 2021

9 October- 29 October
Most irritable right now. Body exceptionally uncomfortable today.
Dreams of humanity and electricity, enlightenment, those who were saved, and those who were left behind.
Receivings about V2K.
It has taken much time and has been mostly painless.
And now we wait.
This creates a brand new pile of super positions.
The past week without the phone, the inex has still been present.
Goes beyond the wifi; there is an electronic nature to this reality.
I wish it was easier for me to find *words* to explain the fractal nature of reality. To listen, to record what I hear, I find- is it a much smarter version of me?
I am computer.
A dream of Ann Arbor, Red Wing boots, a man named Dakota.
Where does fiction meet with science to become fact?
I think that, at least at this moment, I understand the mechanics behind the concept of ‘inception’.
Must remember to deal only in possibility and not absolutes in order to continue to maintain superposition.
Staying the night at my fathers, an unpleasant night compared to the Wednesday I did not sleep and the Heimdall Saturday a few weeks ago.
Fear, that night, auditory visions of loved ones being killed. At one point, it had said, “We are just outside the house”, asking did I feel them?
A sudden rush of dreadful understanding, QS as a warning, quantum satis, quantum sufficit, as much as is necessary. The empty casing I had found next to it making it known, that if necessary, there is no hesitation at the thought of killing me.
The weird coincidences continue to add up one by one.
At the corner store today, the man asked how I was. ‘Same shit, different day’, to which he replied, ‘same shit, different theories?’ It is important to note, this man is not one who should be privy to my eternal theorizing.
Something feels as if it is about to happen, something massive; this has been the dead breath before the metaphorical plunge to the unknown. Been holding it a while; my metaphorical lung capacity in this is god-tier.
Still feel like I am being watched.
Today this all feels highly simulated.
Or highly fucking contrived.
I am not insane.
I am innocent.
This itself is not a happy thought, so therefore it cannot be taken away from me.
I know the Occams Razor outcome to all of this, am prepared for it.
That is not what this is about.
This is about exploration, of patterns and the ability of the human mind to create corrupted liminal realities from limited pieces of data attached in odd ways- how the shaman and the schizophrenic are two sides, falling to the abyss below the treacherous precipice that is the fine line of perceived ‘normal’ in this understanding of physical reality.
Dreams of Soma.
‘You made them all early in the game, you haven’t added anything new,’ says my grandmother, in regards to people I have created, characters in an algorithm, particularly a ‘man with a suitcase full of rocks’.
“Severe trauma to the prefrontal cortex,” a receiving followed by a subsequent Google search, and a physical response that included a shaking as though I was freezing, the feeling of dread physically manifested from the center of my abdomen; a miniature episode of what had happened only last week, and multiple recent times prior to that.
Receivings, of the sleep of Ishtar. Seventh Gate, Covenant of Abzu.
‘Waves of energy’ within the brain following the prefrontal cortex episode. These ‘waves’ are simultaneously a blissful, full-body orgasm of an experience and highly uncomfortable, borderline terrifying.
The Melvins track ‘Don’t Forget to Breathe’ has come through twice now during such episodes.
News, about how a GPS bug will cause some electronics to be set back 1,024 weeks to March of 2002. Happening to my old phone for months; running in tandem day by day.
The feeling of having been set up.
The memory of an inex, “you are being set up to commit treason” echoes through my head.
My mother tells me of a dream she had in which I am ‘expelling blood’.
My grandmother tells me, ‘lately, they decided they don’t want anyone younger to have the dreams, so they’ve been disconnected.’
Dreams, a shot of my consciousness looking at my vessel from outside of it, a massive patch of purple-red bruising covering the left side of my torso, underneath a ribcage all skin and bone.
A coherent inex scene of a family member being murdered, or raped, or tortured. Perceiving, ‘Wow, dead dogs really are quieter’. Texting my family member to *ask* if they were okay. Similar to a scene I had heard at a different family members a night a few weeks prior, a coherent receiving of a break-in, them being murdered, to prove a point to me.
Using the thought of harming my family to get to me; this, this is terror.
Something about not knowing the nature of reality being what makes reality a quantum computer.
The inex says I should be embarrassed and I mean, sure, I could, but to what point and purpose?
An analysis of the yanny/laurel, which do you perceive in quantum indeterminate noise?
“You hear what you want to hear.”
Some things, yes, I hear what I want to hear, no doubt.
Others, though… I could not stop hearing them if I tried.
Oscillations between wanting to die of the sheer magnitude of it all and wanting to fight God with my bare hands.
Eve naked in the garden after eating the forbidden fruit.
The emperor in new clothes.
One thousand and one plus many more, is me, the collective processing of all information input, an output of insane and absurd proportions.
“The only way to make it stop is to kill yourself,” echoes through my head again.