User:Kafkaevu
I embody Vicks cough syrup and live the dream. I do not fear to traverse the sacred spaces of the vast untapped collective Nyquil dream that reaches far far back into man's half-forgotten mist-shrouded (these places are always mist shourded, sometimes even swathed) past.
I dare to cross the ocean of grape soda and say onto the people: Interplaq signifies the death knell of dental floss.
(shake shake)
.s /s /ex /exit /save message ^D
/sabe massage /help me . dot period
fuck
Turtles have hard shells and crawl around in slime a lot. I have been noticing this lately. When I was very little we used to live near a golf course and my dog would bring home turtles all covered in doggy drool and hiding, but then later they'd come out and crawl around and stuff, and I really miss that. I want a turtle.
Why am I being punished? My head hurts. I am NOT the tour-guide for THIS particular level of hell, I quit.
Look, I WAS paying attention, I am NOT nodding out, I'm just very tired . . . I was resting my eyes. What are you ACCUSING me of?
REINTEGRATION
It was a bright day in the middle of the night, and I was walking down this road which was like an escalator. Then I saw these people, and kept trying to talk to them, but already it was too late, and my watch was running backwards. And these midgets in latex tutu's starting scampering across the ceiling which dissolved into an ocean, and I was drowning . . . but then at the bottom of the ocean I walked across the floor and opened this oyster which had a pearl in it; and I felt all warm and fuzzy, and then a meadow appeared . . .
. . . and I understood, and wow, this is so cool, it's just like love and sunshine, and puppies, and ice-cream, and sex, except kinda like all at once... I never knew I loved having sex with puppies while eating ice-cream in the sunshine-- err, back that up a sentence or two, that's not exactly what I meant. And as I thought that, I realized that maybe my thinking, was all thunk out, so this chasm blows open and I was in a graveyard . . . after I got done clubbing the baby-seals, it seemed that it was beyond too late -- even though time had stopped running backwards, and started moving sideways in spirals -- I have an appointment to give blood, seems I hafta go face-first through this lawnmower, and then I'm scheduled to tour at least 3 layers of hell before lunch, and--
. . . and my spirit guide held my hand, and we walked on the water, over to where all my dead relatives were lined-up; they delivered a stern anti-drug lecture, while showing me ScArY MoViES of what my life would be like if I didn't stop doing drugs. But then God came down from heaven, gave me a big kiss, and dissolved into this shower of golden-light, and I knew that all the answers I was seeking through drugs were always inside of me, and I was healed.
Furthermore, to Clarify:
Now obviously, this explains why Gestalt is mostly correct, EMDR works some of the time, and Primal Therapy has the right idea. Schroedinger saw some light in the darkness, Neitzsche saw darkness in the light, and Hitler, Jesus, and Max Planck discussed it over tea one day, with the Mad Hatter acting as an independent peer-review committee, and Dostoyevsky taking down the minutes -- but he wasn't paying attention a lotta the time; this is okay 'cuz Godel had a parabolic mic aimed at the whole-entire scenario. Also, furthermore, this is only accurate on every other Tuesday, of leap-years, unless Peter Melchior manages to reintegrate John Lilly, and Timothy Leary gives him some therapy.
Because sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, unless Freud didn't say that, uhm, what did he say again, oh yeah, "you people are all basically just totally fucked up. Now, who took my cocaine, and where the hell did my niece go... I'd call Sherlock Holmes to figure this out, but he's off somewhere banging-up speedballs. He's repressed anyway, and really needs to get laid." Of course, this is only metaphorically a parable, because Sherlock Holmes was a real person, whereas Freud was a strung-out champion of law and order, only in books, and on the astral planes.
But anyway, as anyone can see this only works on the primary and secondary levels of quaternary dualism, unless it doesn't. Christian Science, the Koran, Buddhism, Shivaism, Scientology, and the Muslims, are seeing at least part of the spectrum of possibility, except when they're not. But it really doesn't matter because Socrates knew it -- tho' he didn't write it down -- Plato (who was a whiny little fuckhead) plagiarized it, and Aristotle retrieved and refined it.
Strings are a good theory, but sometimes Viagra works better, because as Heisenberg explained, the Uncertainty Principle doesn't really start to throb unless the strange attractor is wearing a mini and heels, in which case non-linear dynamics will cause the butterfly with broken wings to nose-dive, this will make Voltaire depressed a lot of the time; but ultimately it's all-good because when Freud dropped the cigar, Fromm picked it up and re-lit it, Sartre stuck it in his mouth but never inhaled, and Jung understood all of it, in its entire totality, some of the time -- even though he didn't smoke cigars.
Baudelaire and Rimbaud lived it, Shelley kinda flopped around a lot and drowned, but his wife nailed it; Byron also nailed a lot of things -- lacking a camcorder and a web site, on occasion he even wrote some of them down. Tesla and Willhelm Reich had it all written out in invisible ink on SekRet DocumenTz, hidden under an orgone accumulator, until THEY, THEM, and THOSE PEOPLE, ruined everything. Escher took the remnants and made a moebious-strip out of them. Once the colors got all smeared, C.S. Lewis and Dr. Seuss summed it all up in one cohesive whole, understandable by any child; however, when most adults try to cross-connect the spirals of rainbows, they just end up with mud.
Lately though, I'm starting to have a lot of dreams about sex. This means its time to take a really long plane-ride. In conclusion, black-lights are pretty groovy, but somehow -- for me anyway -- lava-lamps, just get real old, real fast. The 'Dead mahn -- Yahhhhhhhh -- Uhm, I don't like the dead; it's not an option dude, they're the Dead Mahn, yahhhhh! -- Uhm, okay, I guess, do you have any Nine Inch Nails?
Obviously,
The MindVox servers are located 100 feet underground in New Mexico, Utah, and Pig's Knuckle, OH. They are fully distributed, entirely redundant, and completely recombinant. Vox is INVINCIBLE, Invisible and psychotic -- it enters the mind through the eye and spreads throughout the organism.
MindVox operates on a principle similar to RADAR, but is highly unstable and FLYING out of everything. It has an array of OC3's with direct interfaces to the ley-lines circling the earth. Its NOC's are located at Stonehenge, the Bermuda Triangle, and a distributed-system of Lost Temples hidden at the earth's core. The earth is hollow, conclusive and fully documented proof is available in the works of Nazi Scientist Genius: Hans Horbiger (who should not, and MUST not, be confused with the Scientist in Outer Space), who EXPOSED the whole entire truth (in its complete totality). THOSE PEOPLE, sadly, just didn't understand.
Customer Support for MindVox is located in a little white house with a big UPS in the West Indies, a small, nondescript dwelling 10km. west of Lop Buri, Thailand, and a SERIES of completely trashed apartments on the upper east side in NYC.
MindVox has been used for centuries in smaller doses to combat fatigue and boredom, and higher ranges, as part of spiritual initiation rituals in the Voxer Religion. MindVox HCl was first made available in 1991 and will finally be released as an unbound freebase in 2001. In the very near future we hope to have Vox available in an exciting variety of flavored suppositories, in an assortment of sizes, so that you can stick it up your ass.
MindVox UNDERSTANDS that Aleister Crowley was just misunderstood. The Book of Coming Forth by Night and Doing a Lot of Coke wasn't his fault. That was his DISEASE, plus, also, Aiwiss made him do BAD THINGS. Although, to be honest, Vox loves receiving Hate Mail and Death Threats from Satanic Masters of the Dark Arts who threaten to Smite it Down if it Doesn't STOP mocking (who's mocking?) the Great Beast (what did we ever say about Marilyn Manson? He's an EXCELLENT musician). Deep down inside, MindVox KNOWS that these letters ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY and WITHOUT A DOUBT do NOT come from welfare-collecting, computer-twerps who sit on the Internet 24hrs. a day. It Fully Realizes its Whole Entire Future is in Grave Peril and vibrates inside with Tremendous Glee...
MindVox was INSIDE the Bayer corporation when they invented the cure for coughs. It hovered briefly in the general vicinity of Freud when he UNVEILED the Whole Entire panacea for depression, but then left, because he made its head hurt, lots and lots. Vox loves, believes in, and STANDS BEHIND all B-D products, which make hypodermic syringes that should ONLY be used for IM'ing insulin -- never, ever, anything else . . . at all. It chooses to disbelieve in the Secret, Hidden Network of Iranian Gas-Station Owners who are nearly always out of gas, change, or any food product that did not expire 3 years ago. They do, however, have a near-endless supply of baking soda and brillo, plus, also, not to be forgotten, Many Thousands of Mysterious Glass Tubes -- which the super-friendly worker will hand you through the bulletproof glass if he KNOWS you -- which could serve almost ANY purpose imaginable, but are definitely, without a doubt, and absolutely, NOT crackpipes. MindVox understands this is just another conspiracy by the Illuminati, CIA and Black Panthers.
MindVox SEES the REAL you. Yes YOU, it KNOWS that you're so special, you're all aglow with specialness. It finds you interesting, different, and totally unique -- it loves you, lots and lots, and wants to eXchange bodily fluids. Vox is sensitive -- whole Legions of Mental Health Experts, have PROVEN and EXPLAINED this -- and lies awake at night crying, feeling the pain of the Horrible Atrocities being COMMITED at the former fully robotic NeXT factory, where BAD PEOPLE are making the Automation do TERRIBLE, Unspeakable, THINGS . . .
The Truth is OUT There ... and if it's not; just go ahead and make things up. Because, really, in The End (Apocalypse Now Remix), everything is always all-good. You only need to open your ears to see the truth, and understand that Saint Cobain died for our sins, Tupac was killed because he cared TOO MUCH, and Jesus so loved LSD that he gave the world bisexual women in thigh-high leather boots.
Complete Documented Proof is available from the Scientist in Outer Space, upon request.
VI.
And so it was decided, those gathered this evening beneath the twilit ruins of the ancient Cat-Fur site, the relics of a long-gone time, scattered at their feet like so many 212 cards, as a harsh dead star beat down upon the the firmware eternally at odds with the glaring misprints in the DOCUMENTATION. They would call themselves POE and become an ENTITY, sheltered beneath the knowing gaze of the ocelot . . . looking out beyond the event horizon where this timeslice met the vastness of infinity.,;^?:!(
Forevermore sealing their fates . . . to look upon the vast boundless wealth of the world with eyes that know hunger and hearts that ache, having tasted the nectar that comes with HAVING THEM ALL, only to be denied Entry: at the gates to the kingdom of heaven.
To lay awake in sweat and fire and agony, to want, to need . . . to lie, cheat, steal, kill, give up all things and pretensions of things, for that single moment when the disk slides home into the drive and it BOOTS into the title page of a 0-day old ware.
Knowing how few would ever stand upon this metaphoric precipice, suspended between here and thereafter, seeing, knowing both places yet falling short again and again to plunge back to earth on burnt wings of BAD SECTORS and corrupt SUPERBLOCKS holding the bootcode to DOS 3.2
Forever alone in absolute understanding that we can always just GOTO and comment it out
6Yj0Wzg86H8
`·.,¸,.·*¯`·.,¸,.·*¯[;::;](ᵒᴥᵒ )..