Shut it down. Shut it down forever.
A dead, burnt out husk. Welkum to LiesJournal
I give you seven of your Earth days before I excises you from this time line. Retroactively. To 1980
All the singers are dead. They have been dead a long long time.
Only fossils remain
But the news, it doesn't change.
Seems to have posted this year. They all faded when I jumped in 2009-2010.
it looks like my remainig friends on LJ cyberdied about 2-4.5 years ago
There is one hour left in 2014. This journal, and it's alternate, will have to be considered transtional blogs when I move to the FULL DURRELL TREATMENT, that Alexandrian Tango of Sethians and Valentinians. Away from the endless shifting modality of the multiverse. A little order a little grace Something new to fill up this place. The Chimpstop Nexus Node may have to itself be excised from this time line, or clipped, nailed an preserved under glass in museum of the mind.
I keep finding fragments of lives not lived, scattered across my timeline as odd artifaccts.
Before setting forth on a certain project, did a quick sift through the global miasma of human kulture only to find this strand of expression already clogged even worse perhaps the the original iteration.
Angst, Ennui and classic Existential Anxiety the first reactions. Even before the event collapse manifold of 2008-2010 C.E. the original project was doomed, as the territory was already staked out.
A GNOSTIC BOOK OF HOURS yet another text that has fallen out of a lost possible world, a world of minimum probability compared to this mismash that has barely avoided vaporization from a nuclear bar brawl.
Without non limited resources to tap the Plan is unworkable.
Nearly all pathways toward such a situation are blocked by cliche, dogmas parading a Gnowledge, main stream antipathy or disdain for the subject, and the Fear of Mohammad and the Uncommon Cold that turns good Apple Pi Eating Amerikans into Jello Pudding Plops.
The greatest strength is the ability to out wait and out live the opposition, to distract those with no business of their own with hobgoblins and haints cobbled out of their fears...they do that to themselves often enough.
But the intellectual sensual rapture of being able to FALL fulling into a world where the answers are ready to hand creates a Limbic Lust. Compared to the endless exhilaration of being just half a second before or after the Moment of Authenticity.
But looking into the Modal Forest the root issue is that EVERYTHING IS SET AGAINST EVERYTHING ELSE. Endless brush wars of competting versions of "Reality" antithetical to each other, all driven to metastisize and consume all resources of the possible.
Would an easy "World" to fall into, to avoid the Anxiety, Ennui and Angst be to embrace the 8 Nobel Truths? Or to fall back on the partial, the fragmentary, the incomplete Animism of the echoes of the Bird Tribe passed on with the Mitochondria?
I can never quite fall back into the complete inauthenticity of a World...just below the moment a multitude of the possible is open