serial_experiments\gave

dingy auditorium   "The new environment was clearly visible to him, " - Marshall McLuhan, The Medium is the Massage , 88 he thought to himself as the visible world began to crawl back toward him. He stepped out of his dream into an environment he could neither change nor escape, for it was painted on walls infinitely out of reach.  In his dream he had wandered deliberately into an auditorium, where at the front a woman called Carol Emmons oracled aloud into a microphone, so he plopped himself down with his rodent companions (among them were rats, capybaras, pistachios, squirrels, etc.) so that he might glean how he was to die. Death comes only to those who wait, and especially to those who practice, and even more to those who specialize in such practices (did she not prophecy too that to practice is stagnation whereas practice is motion?).  Carol Emmons, Cosmogony 2.0 How is practice practiced? Practice can only be practiced through practice, which is to say that only by ...

BEWARE THE MATERIALITY OF  LIGHT  THE FLASHING OF HEAVEN  WILL SCRATCH BEHIND YOUR EYES  PROCEED WITH CAUTION  especially if you're sensitive to flashing lights forest_fire, gave As i wandered the interforest at perpetual midnight  a family of deer passed me by.  i knew in that moment, tonight won't be the night i die. What's been on my mind lately: His assistant asked, "How can you tell?" -Marshall McLuhann, The Medium is the Massage , 68 Sublime. How can we tell? These are the kinds of questions that are suitable to this day and age. We have moved past antiquated inquiries into an age of true questions that dangle from the very end of what is real. Speaking of antiquity, Alain has written to me that he has enrolled officially in the The Society of post-post-post-post-post-post-Modernists. He will be leaving for the temple within the week, and i will purportedly never see him again, nor will anyone else. i assume he would like me to be happy for him, ...

"30-million toy trucks were bought in the US in 1966."                         - Marshall McLuhan, The Medium is the Massage (9) i have received notice from Old Man Hands that the angel of incidence will be paying me a visit next week. While i can hardly contain my excitement i must remember to remain humble. Whatever pleasure an angel can give me, no pleasure could ever fill the cavities that the rolypolys ate out of my heart and teeth, before i ever teethed a heart or tooth, when i was too small to remember, when i wandered by accident into my parents bedroom only to discover that their naked bodies were made of mirrors, and i beheld in those mirrors my own form for the very first time and was terrified into self-consciousness/oblivion. These cavities i am inclined to call sadness, but word on the street is i hardly possess the evidence required to invoke such a term, so i must abide with tentative and strictly non-...