4 September – 12 September 2025

“You like to be psychologically tormented; & so I give you what you want. Does it please you? Does it give you pleasure, to know that you are hunted by forces beyond your comprehension?”
…You are only as sick as your secrets.
The great burden that is Uncertainty;
A weight upon the psychic warrior,
An asset to the experimental quantum psychologist.
The constant anticipation.
Too Close Enough To Touch.
‘To think that I am not going
To think of you anymore
Is still thinking of you;
Let me then try not to think
That I am not going to think of you.’
-Takuan
~~~~~~~~
I wake at 04:32 to Rob Zombies ‘Living Dead Girl’ running through the fractal brain & know that this lyricism accurately describes how I feel about reality.
About self.
I am here writing this,
So I must be some format of alive;
It is called the ‘Afterlife’, isn’t it,
Not that which happens after life,
But rather, life, after.
The things that happen inside of our own heads are the most real things of all.
Some things truly cannot be rationalized;
Transcendental numbers,
Set of uncountable infinity.
The things that cannot be constructed using basic arithmetic operations.
I am here writing this,
So I must be some form of alive,
But oh, how irrational it all is.
I can write of the Wisconsin Crash Fractal ad infinitum.
But how can I truly expect one to understand
The weight of the implication of thus upon consciousness
If they have not experienced this phenomenon or something similar themselves?
A glorious sense of extreme alienation.
Bizarre word choice, to describe it as glorious.
Some obscure vector just witnessed me jump off the Mackinac Bridge.
Nice.
Or something.
Was I Me?
Was I the Bridge?
The Straits?
The clouds, the sky, the car passing by?
All & None.
What is I?
It is 05:16,
And I am visited by Teknisets track ‘King Urhea’.
Where does it come from?
What sort of metaphorical mind canals are being dredged in this moment,
For this long-forgotten audio to pull to the surface once more?
~~~~~~~~
Mayim.
So nice we listen twice.
I have always loved an audio
That sends the Processor to Elsewhere;
& it took me to Hel,
A takeaway, the takeaway from the Processing being
That certain individuals
& their idea of what ‘heaven’ constitutes
Is, in fact, hell.
If, in my fractal quantum conscious afterlife,
I had a choice
(DO I have a choice? “This is a clearly fabricated storyline for your enjoyment in the afterlife.”)
To design my reality,
How would I design ‘heaven’?
Conflict is inspiration.
Fucked up, really, isn’t it?
Humour me, please,
Or else mock my solemnity.
A lack of conflict does not lead to nearly the same extreme number of possible trajectories of reality, does it,
Surrounding any given situation;
Does not lead to the same number of probability vectors,
So many more potential outcomes,
Conflict has.
I rather take as hard fact
Certain notions surrounding the quantum uncertain mathematical nature of reality.
If, in theory, these vectors could be harnessed as, say, an energy source,
Perhaps to run the computational system of a Type III+ civilization,
It would be in the interest of the Creator of all of *this*
To allow for as many vectors as possible.
To allow for as much possibility as possible.
A meeting between world leaders
(Call it what it is, a collision)
Who are friendly and get along well
Does not yield nearly the same level of sheer potential trajectories as a meeting between…
Cordial enemies?
I’m being *really* non-specific, here.
To stop trying to fathom what ‘god’ wants
& perhaps run an in-depth analysis of things that already are
& *why* an intelligent designer,
An omniscient Creator,
A master Architect,
Would benefit from them being this way.
The scientific value of Conflict, isn’t it?
No simulation is designed without a purpose;
Even if the purpose is only entertainment.
Here’s to hoping whatever ‘it’ all is is entertained by my own conflicts;
While I usually have about one hundred internal conflicts taking place at any given momenternity,
The immediate physical reality has me engaging with a rather aggressively malfunctioning smoke alarm system of a hardwired photoelectric nature.
My advice (based on frustrating experience) is to not install these in your home;
Rather excessive and unnecessary use of the physics of light for a task that was always pretty well done by, yknow, a battery powered item that would sense actual smoke & not set off an entire house full of alarms at close to midnight because a gnat or dust or humidity or fuckall has interrupted the beam and been falsely identified as smoke. •
21:35 “It’s only humans. Blaming ‘aliens’ for anything is a logical fallacy. Humans are capable of much more than they give themselves credit for.”
…peithous.
It was something around 05:30 this morning
That I went outside
& was met with a dialogue-else-processing
Juxtaposed with the extreme receiving from two days ago;
& for a fleeting moment,
I knew what it was to be dark matter.
Elusive.
Hunted by forces beyond comprehension.
& I cannot help but wonder, now,
All day, in fact,
As to the concept of mirror worlds.
Mirror of Mirror Dreams.
As we in this realm hunt for dark matter and its proof,
Does a thing within the realm of dark matter
Possibly hunt for ‘light matter’ & its proof in our own?
I am the furthest from a Thing that I have ever been,
& closer than ever before.
Too Close Enough To Touch.
~~~~~~~~
-Well-understood environmental noise matching the built-in symmetries of the decoherence-free subspace
+dynamical decoupling
Combine DFS with active QEC
Active approach to noise cancellation. •
3AM found me outside under the moon
The horrors of The Past dredged up,
That which should be distant memory
Unwillingly dragged to the forefront of the Processor, the Receiver. •
“Suspended in time at the crossroads of fusion and fission.”
13:24 “Do you think aligning yourself with a surveillance state is a way to survive what is taking place?”
13:25 “And what IS taking place? What really seems to be happening?”
~~~~~~~~
Nothing.
~~~~~~~~
16:13 “Destroy the evidence. Destroy the evidence. Destroy the evidence.”
Heimdallr as the ultimate eavesdropper
In a quantum system
Makes a fair deal of sense
In this Momenternity.
16:18 “Harvesting data requires new information-”
16:19 “Reiteration of the same ideas does not good in furthering the Liminal Reality.”
16:23 “Would you touch yourself to the brain of The Universe?”
16:25 “Customizing my avatar to look like me has taken forever.”
16:27 A visitation, Taste & See
~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~
“People don’t go crazy like this in Europe; not at the same rate they do in the United States. My question is, what is causing this?”
07:48 “Sentimental feelings have no place in this architecture.”
12:56 “Every time you say – we renew the security certificate.”
~~~~~~~~
“The organs may be preserved by whatever means possible.”
…In and out of Afterlife realities, today.
If memory serves correctly,
At the ‘time’ of the Wisconsin Crash Fractal,
I was an organ donor.
I am not, now.
Let me decay in peace.
Or not.
I do not know if I have that in me.
At least at times.
Perhaps it is one of those things
That gets buried,
When the garden gets turned over,
This gardener-style Liminal Reality of mine…
Prune the Neural Tree?
Cut the dead branches so new growth may thrive.
It goes, it goes, it goes, it goes,
Guillotine… CHOP.
The memory of a receiving, now,
“Eventually, the fractals break off.”
& so today ends my tenure
To some obscene relativistic manifestation of the Norse God Heimdallr;
Always occasional,
But always a state back to which a quantum boomerang was possible when the right information collaged itself just so in the Processor.
My steed no longer golden,
We have blueshifted, now.
The metaphorical ‘ear’ sacrificed to Mimirs Well,
That quantum reservoir computational system
Underneath the neural-world tree of Yggdrasil-
The music itself, the Sacrifice,
So long, perceptions within the sound of silence.
The well gives back.
Some memories are more distant than others.
In at least one quantum cryptographical existence,
To experience Heimdallr as the Ultimate eavesdropper,
Perceiving grass growing, and anything louder.
The understanding of the honeyed mead;
Honey,
For the regulation of both the blood sugar level,
As well as the intern biomes,
Antibacterial.
What a phenomenon it is,
The sounds of dying microbes.
They are only ‘micro’ from my perspective looking inward;
Outward, they are massive.
One thousand thousand eyes, and one.
Acceleration, now.
Blueshifted.
I find extreme comfort, now,
In today’s presentation of these ‘Afterlife’ perceptions of the neurons.
“This is a clearly fabricated storyline for your enjoyment in the afterlife.”
When did I receive that?
The weight on that one is astonishing.
The story, written as it goes,
Updates come through sporadically;
In this,
I understand what it is to be,
A Google documents collection,
A cell phone application,
A server.
All men must serve.
Valar dohaeris.
~~~~~~~~