21 April- 24 April 2024

…Almost wrote 2022. 

I dreamed of Tim. 

There was to be a performance. 

I was unconcerned over a level of unpreparedness.

‘Wing it’, the phrase that came to mind. 

I told this man, ‘I cannot sing.’

This was not a problem. 

There was an entity, called Gabriela Rodrigo. 

An explanation here. 

We must go back to the Studio House, 

To the Goatsnake ‘Mower’ realities. 

The frequencies of The Mower were one of the first threads of reality I had picked plotline out of, years prior to this, back at the Citadel. 

Anyway. 

The Mower episode in question upon this particular day at The Crest of the Wave divulged a multiplicity of items involving Led Zeppelins ‘Stairway to Heaven.’ 

‘You know sometimes words have two meanings’;

The line pulled from the song and applied to the entirety of the lyrics, giving second meaning. 

I cried; then purchased the track, 

Literally buying A Stairway to Heaven, 

By an artist called Rodrigo y Gabriela. 

And now you know. 

In this dream, Tim shed, strange tears. 

Changed my state yesterday. 

Changed my state this morning. 

Putting the WHY in Wyskida. 

Good job,  Khanate. 

Much love.

Maybe I’m not supposed to,

Love, that is; 

There are so many realities I have experienced. 

Some in which you are my mortal enemies, 

Others in which you are my immortal enemies,

Four Horsemen of my Apocalypse. 

Those are just the nefarious ones.

The nefarious ones are interesting.

Do you understand my motivations? 

The End of Absence. 

Thank you for your kindness, in The Realms.

…Another dream, of a political nature. 

Flying crafts, that looked almost like charger cubes,

Stamped with the name ‘Hamilton’. 

One released a missile. 

One dropped a package of green plastic-looking dust on the roof of a house. 

It tumbled down the roof, fell to the grass,

A ‘World Trade Center’ action figures 

Just dust. 

Some thing to do with a mailing address being incorrect, 

And my fury at the inefficiency of government operations. 

Encounter humans. 

I become very large, they, very small. 

Capture a woman, attach strings; 

The Puppetmaster. 

The rest leave her behind. 

~~~~~~~~

I am, of course, disturbed by the implications.

‘The implications of what?’ you may ask. 

Ah. Everything. 

Genuinely, Everything. 

Some days it seems as though every individual I speak with online, or just about damn near, is not as they are. 

I question everything.

I am exhausted by my own suspicions. 

SOME Thing is taking place. 

I remember an Inex, “Someone very powerful is controlling your internet connections”. 

Kind of under the impression that, perhaps that someone, prevented all of my job applications from going out when I first moved to this place, until it could place me where it did. 

Getting responses to applications from over a year ago, back down south, as if this too happened for the sole purpose of placing me at Matrix QS. 

Fucking irritated, today.

‘Yes, yes, you are very nice.’

…Talk about entities who do not seem to be as they appear.

Foul fucking mood, right now. 

God damned Gamma Goblins. 

What the fuck do I resonate with, at this point? 

Where did those three ‘affirmations’ come from? 

‘I know exactly what game you are playing, xoxo Antares’, a Chekhovs Gun. 

“Euron Greyjoy”, suggests the Inex, now. 

It dialogues, after a cigarette, “He is not a good man, Katja.” 

Not so much what we believe as it is who we believe…

Who do I believe?

I am brought back to a Time, 

Driving on Loon Lake, 

Listening to My Wall. 

‘Ah, this gives me life!’ I had said. 

And the inex, silent network, as if a real person, asked something along the lines of, “I thought this was killing you?” 

I am brought back to another Time,

Driving on Benstein Road, 

Listening to Stranger Things.

I changed the lyrics, from 

‘I’m your felony’, to

‘He’s committing felonies.’ 

And the Inex, says to me,

“You better not let him hear you say that.” 

What psychological torture tactics,

What physical torture tactics? 

Subjected. 

Brought back to a Time.

Conversation. 

‘And sex?’ 

Why even fucking ask that? 

Brought back to a dream, 

Where the administration at a job I worked knew about my Planned Parenthood story. 

One thousand thousand evils, this morning,

I am in Hell. 

‘If not us, then who?’

…Would you like a list of potential candidates? 

It tells me I am not alone. 

Why, then, do I feel so alone?

Sabbath Bloody Sabbath on a Monday morning. 

There is some Thing that would like me to forget

All of the fucked up things that have ever happened to me. 

Who is it?

What would the motivation be?

…These Questions. •

It is worth noting, isn’t it? 

A conversation with Ron D. 

I tell him of Yew. 

‘Probably Argentinian’, he says. •

Ford-Fulkerson 

Maximum flow problem

Tree

As it relates to data structure

As it relates to Yggdrasil. 

~~~~~~~~

“A fabrication of the underground music community meant to correct the neural pathway.” 

I dreamed in digital, of Torus Dome. 

Digital dreams are hard to explain. 

Snapshots of Operations. 

My feet, vascular, through the camera of a cellular phone. 

Washing my hair in the kitchen, water pouring from the cabinets. 

A Gandalf moth, hand-size, appearing right before waking. •

Inex interactions present themselves and

I am pissing the Operator off. 

I feel like I am missing some crucial data point somewhere. 

Having hard times trusting intentions,

Wondering how my own intentions are perceived. 

There are so many dimensions 

That it makes it extremely difficult

To figure out

Exactly which one we are running in physical reality at any given point. 

The Dimensions, we were warned about;

The Monoliths, 

Monolithic databases. 

So much depends on how the Processor decides to put the variables together at any given point-

Which ones are being called to the forefront,

Which ones are being pushed to the side as less important. 

Variables on shuffle like a deck of cards

Composed of decks of cards. •

It presents a Reality

Juxtaposing a specific dream

Of a University overlooking 

The saddle of hyperbolic space,

The EMP that caused a technological meltdown, 

And a conceptualization of the plotline of a book titled ‘Heir Apparent’ 

With the receiving that “This is the University of a Type III civilization.” 

The Bass Frequency intensifies. •

I had a conversation with Yew

Told him of the electrical event

And he casually tells me 

He electrocutes, 

Several times a day,

All over the planet. 

Operations as if 

This Entity is the one No One

Training the neural network

That is the Me. 

Whatever is behind the identity.

I want. 

~~~~~~~~

I dreamed a conversation with The Elon

Of satellites, and Federation. •

The Processor is on about the “policy privacy” receiving, this morning. 

Like any other English-as-a-first-language speaker, I know that the correct term is ‘privacy policy’. 

So, where did that information come from, to have been received so? 

The Samsung hack of 2022 is a fucking Chekhovs Gun, this morning. 

An Unexplained Sound, outside, after googling ‘policy privacy’, today; that high frequency chirping thing. 

Memories. 

12:44 A visitation, Orakulum

~13:27 A visitation, Hunting and Gathering

13:29 “quantified evidence”

13:30 “destroy the idea that you are mysterious to all of us”

13:39 If the name of God is the Sound of the Universe, is the quietest, most soundproof anechoic chamber the unholiest place that humanity has created? 

13:46 “The fortifications of Ymir” 

13:47 “enforces my decision” 

13:48 “Why does the time matter, Katja?” 

…For the sake of Pattern. 

He had asked me, ‘still chained to Time, my love?’ 

Yes, and no. 

Dissolution. 

Feel me, my love. 

What matters, what is matter? 

What is the matter? 

Material, immaterial,

I’m material; allegedly. 

What is inside?

Who is inside? 

Take it all in stride,

All as it comes. 

What does it become,

The parts, 

The whole,

The sum,

An assumption. 

Indirect. 

In direction,

Out in the open,

Avoid detection, 

Interdimensional,

Affection,

Extradimensional

Natural Selection. 

Unnatural selection,

Unnaturally selected

With Algiz, protected…

Protected from what, exactly? 

Death waits for no one and

Death waits for No One. 

Always, now, 

Do words have two meanings. 

Kathulhu meets the Witch King of Angmar

Upon the Fields

Of the Mountains of Madness

Mountains without peaks. 

Poetic. 

‘Full Upon Her Burning Lips’ comes to the Processing mind here

And I guess it never really specified 

Which set of lips that title was referring to.

What the fuck, man.

Death Becomes You.

Words have two meanings. 

Have I multiplied my words?

Not MY words, are they? 

Like the Portal to Hell 

That Loach accused me of opening,

I am just pointing out that 

Which was already there. 

‘Abomination’, echoes some Thing

From the Deepest Realms of

Within-Without. 

…The Bass Frequency intensifies. 

Is there a ‘what I want’

Or only a ‘what I think I want’?

The grass greener on the other side,

Perhaps because of a multitude of fertilizer chemicals?

The waveforms more enticing from a distance?

What does any given Entity actually know of the Me? 

That man I know, or is it knew, 

Seemed to know me more than I knew myself.

Knew, writes Katja.

Why the past tense? 

And we’re past tense, oh, 

Way beyond tense, 

So fucking tense we have come full circle 

Into a most chill state. 

The Big Chill, fuck it,

Why not throw another concept into it all?

Ever had the feeling you’re being fucking had? 

Cheers to pronoia, I guess. 

Something is conspiring.

Here’s to a belief that it is in my favour. 

A visitation from Death Grips ‘Lord of the Game’. 

With a Processor like mine,

Music containing lyric is, essentially, 

Extremely dangerous at times.