Once upon a time, people rode in cars, trains and airplanes, going from one part of a country or world to another without even considering how impossible it would become when the earth turned into an impossible place to inhabit. The world around them shrank until there was only one country, then one territory and then one city was then shrinking down to the size of a city block. The entire world outside this block was filled with pointy rocks that melted flesh at the touch. The Nova Sound System was created just in time to prevent this decay of life from entering the city block, now known, by its inhabitants as Earth, from becoming uninhabitable.
Skeeze rolled another football sized blunt. He picked his ass and sat in the sand and looking at the small sun radiating wanly in the sky, wondered when he would be taken. As there was no place to bury the dead and no room even for decay, when it was your time you were shot through the diaphragm out into the pointy rocks. You became unknown, erased from people's memories. If there was anything like you it reappeared as fresh as an unknown entity. People were shielded from what their identities which cut down on envy. The Nova Sound Machine was a powerful presence that no one could sense but that everyone was keenly aware of. It was equal to gravity in how it regulated existence.
Huxley monitored the cycle. An invisible cube pushes forward and becomes invisible replaced by another and another to no end. If the cube were to become ill-formed, would it create or destroy, Huxley wondered. There was, of course, too much of a risk to find out, but if it just happened naturally....
Huxley called Skeeze into the chamber for their daily discussion.
Sunday, June 23, 2024
Saturday, April 11, 2020
An Inordinate Amount of Nothingness
For a long time, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Holdon slept and dreamed of a vast expanse, a deepening hole. He fell down a deep well, never reaching the bottom.
Monday, March 23, 2020
Pink Dawn- In The Chinese Guarden At Holdon's Academy For A New Society
It was evening when the portly man of 70 came through iron door and through the iron gate out into the last bit of sunlight. An almost smile on his pudgy pock marked cheeks. He was on his way to meet Huxley about the interview series. He didn't know if he liked it, if he should allow it to happen but it was Huxley after all. Huxley who turned the world onto the notion of internal utopian societies. Huxley who helped to convince the investors when they doubted it would produce a profit. Huxley didn't care about money, far from it, but he knew if the setting was right the workers of the commune would produce more material than the people who remained living independently in the outer world. The outer world would then become a place for contemplation and rest. The great texts could be written and the Nova Sound System would begin to heal the planet returning it to it's verdant beginnings. It didn't work out that way, yet, though.
Dr. Holdon walked through the empty streets with the pretext shops. You cannot go inside them but they understand what you need out of them and the goods are dropped into a livery hole each morning. It's rare to see people walking the streets, though, as there was so little to do and you could be anywhere to place an order, including and mostly on the toilet. All you needed was the wallet vision application and you were good to go. On the corner of each street there were gaps. Holdon walked into a gap and there he was in dessert terrain. Here, there were a few people rummaging through trash bins. These people, known as outer denizens, live in a alter-reality and what they collect from the bins is recirculated back to the academy via ducts in the ground. For all intents and purposes these people are without sight. They do not see each other and they do not have a perception of their own bodies either. They have the physical function of picking trash but in their minds they are responsible for keeping the schedules of the elites. They also function as the communication vessel for the hippies at the academy. Holden knows some of them from their former lives as Wall Street executives. Their transformation was complete when their minds were completely blown. That was the end of stock trading, slave labor, world banks and national economies. To try and understand what happened is like trying to understand the beginning of existence itself. It was so sudden and complex that these people who once decided the fate of nations had their minds blown. The Theoretical Class grew out of this and Huxley was their guru. It should be understood that Huxley is a voice text. Huxley is a theoretical design of a fourth dimension entity. Some once said he came out of nowhere "and there he was."
When Holdon reached the end of the dessert alley he walked through a suspended gate and found Sheeky The Flab. Sheeky was smoking a huge blunt and offered some to Holdon. Holdon grabbed hold of the the giant missile and took a little puff and handed it back to Sheeky. Holdon knew well that if he didn't partake, Sheeky was liable to entreat him on the virtues of the Brahman weed. Holdon didn't have the time or the will to endure such a discourse. It was better he partake and exchange some glad trees and get into the chamber where Huxley held court.
Huxley, the emerald shining orb, greeted his friend Holdon and offered him Turkish coffee. Holdon took the coffee from the suspended vassal and sank into an air chair.
"I'm glad you made it. I was wondering if you were going to be a shithead and find one of your excuses not to come. Enough fucking of those dirty hippies, Holdon?" A voice emitted from the orb.
"I thought about being a shit head, as you say, but then I thought 'what's the use' and, for your information, I don't fuck hippies."
"Good for you Holdon, good for you. You don't want to get the disease." The orbs light glowed pink.
"This interview will need to be done one way or the other.' Said Holden "At some point, the Elite, because they are such assholes will start breathing down my neck. I can't stand to hear them whine. I need a new couch, they'll say, I need a new new blender to make my exotic drinks, they'll say. I need a new hippie maid to funk in the broom closet, they'll say. I really can't take it. I get no sleep. The whining, that fucking whining. Fuuuuuck!!
Holdon put his head in his hands and wiped his eyes.
"The hippies are also climbing up my asshole about every little thing lately. They want more food, more sex toys, more children more animals to have sexual entertainment with. I think this interview will prevent their revolt at least for the short term. I'm just walking a dog, here. They need to take a shit every hour or so. I can't get any sleep. Anyway, we'll give them the interview and the Elite will keep cracking their nuts and smoking their pipes instead of sending their inane elite signals to the lustful hippies. Those Fuckin hippies are a bunch of horny cats. They'll fuck anything and they love being dominated by the elites. I keep finding semen stains everywhere. Lately, they're just a bunch of angry, horny, fuckheads." Holdon couldn't contain himself....the Brahman weed was taking hold."
"Okay, Holdon, lie down now and try to relax you addled mind and I will give you the interview. Holdon, are you ready? It will come in long then short segments. Try to hold you mind on the segments. The long ones might break you, you'll think, but then they won't. I have trained you to concentrate. Now prepare yourself. Here, take some meth. There you go."
Thirty-six hours later it was over. The text was transmitted. Holden looked frazzled but he was okay. He was now getting fucked by a large brunette hippie. It was his reward. It made it happy. He couldn't deny it.
The orb, now jet black, entered the concentration chamber and asked the hippie to kindly leave the chamber.
Holdon put on his antiquated clothes as the orb explained the how the process went along and how Holdon had do a good job.
"You should be able to publish it for the Easter Celebration. Eventually, after the week long Festivities, the Elite will get bored or confused and wander off to fuck themselves over again. They think they need this to understand what THEY will mean to the ultimate plan. If all goes well we'll be able to break this cycle and enter into the agreement phase. That's all we can hope for, at this point, anyway. All of the players are a bunch of obstinate assholes, as you have claimed. This will, perhaps, be enough of a distraction to get us through to the next phase."
He was right.
Once the interview was published and the main splain was re calibrated, the hippies went back into production backing off full-fledged sexual revolt. The Easter Celebration was like a diaper that let the shit flow without there being too much of a mess for Holdon to clean up. After this burst of work, Holdon was glad he did the interview, after all, because at least it had stemmed the tide. The Elite went back to their family life. Holden was able to lie for a long nap, the speed was wearing off.
Dr. Holdon walked through the empty streets with the pretext shops. You cannot go inside them but they understand what you need out of them and the goods are dropped into a livery hole each morning. It's rare to see people walking the streets, though, as there was so little to do and you could be anywhere to place an order, including and mostly on the toilet. All you needed was the wallet vision application and you were good to go. On the corner of each street there were gaps. Holdon walked into a gap and there he was in dessert terrain. Here, there were a few people rummaging through trash bins. These people, known as outer denizens, live in a alter-reality and what they collect from the bins is recirculated back to the academy via ducts in the ground. For all intents and purposes these people are without sight. They do not see each other and they do not have a perception of their own bodies either. They have the physical function of picking trash but in their minds they are responsible for keeping the schedules of the elites. They also function as the communication vessel for the hippies at the academy. Holden knows some of them from their former lives as Wall Street executives. Their transformation was complete when their minds were completely blown. That was the end of stock trading, slave labor, world banks and national economies. To try and understand what happened is like trying to understand the beginning of existence itself. It was so sudden and complex that these people who once decided the fate of nations had their minds blown. The Theoretical Class grew out of this and Huxley was their guru. It should be understood that Huxley is a voice text. Huxley is a theoretical design of a fourth dimension entity. Some once said he came out of nowhere "and there he was."
When Holdon reached the end of the dessert alley he walked through a suspended gate and found Sheeky The Flab. Sheeky was smoking a huge blunt and offered some to Holdon. Holdon grabbed hold of the the giant missile and took a little puff and handed it back to Sheeky. Holdon knew well that if he didn't partake, Sheeky was liable to entreat him on the virtues of the Brahman weed. Holdon didn't have the time or the will to endure such a discourse. It was better he partake and exchange some glad trees and get into the chamber where Huxley held court.
Huxley, the emerald shining orb, greeted his friend Holdon and offered him Turkish coffee. Holdon took the coffee from the suspended vassal and sank into an air chair.
"I'm glad you made it. I was wondering if you were going to be a shithead and find one of your excuses not to come. Enough fucking of those dirty hippies, Holdon?" A voice emitted from the orb.
"I thought about being a shit head, as you say, but then I thought 'what's the use' and, for your information, I don't fuck hippies."
"Good for you Holdon, good for you. You don't want to get the disease." The orbs light glowed pink.
"This interview will need to be done one way or the other.' Said Holden "At some point, the Elite, because they are such assholes will start breathing down my neck. I can't stand to hear them whine. I need a new couch, they'll say, I need a new new blender to make my exotic drinks, they'll say. I need a new hippie maid to funk in the broom closet, they'll say. I really can't take it. I get no sleep. The whining, that fucking whining. Fuuuuuck!!
Holdon put his head in his hands and wiped his eyes.
"The hippies are also climbing up my asshole about every little thing lately. They want more food, more sex toys, more children more animals to have sexual entertainment with. I think this interview will prevent their revolt at least for the short term. I'm just walking a dog, here. They need to take a shit every hour or so. I can't get any sleep. Anyway, we'll give them the interview and the Elite will keep cracking their nuts and smoking their pipes instead of sending their inane elite signals to the lustful hippies. Those Fuckin hippies are a bunch of horny cats. They'll fuck anything and they love being dominated by the elites. I keep finding semen stains everywhere. Lately, they're just a bunch of angry, horny, fuckheads." Holdon couldn't contain himself....the Brahman weed was taking hold."
"Okay, Holdon, lie down now and try to relax you addled mind and I will give you the interview. Holdon, are you ready? It will come in long then short segments. Try to hold you mind on the segments. The long ones might break you, you'll think, but then they won't. I have trained you to concentrate. Now prepare yourself. Here, take some meth. There you go."
Thirty-six hours later it was over. The text was transmitted. Holden looked frazzled but he was okay. He was now getting fucked by a large brunette hippie. It was his reward. It made it happy. He couldn't deny it.
The orb, now jet black, entered the concentration chamber and asked the hippie to kindly leave the chamber.
Holdon put on his antiquated clothes as the orb explained the how the process went along and how Holdon had do a good job.
"You should be able to publish it for the Easter Celebration. Eventually, after the week long Festivities, the Elite will get bored or confused and wander off to fuck themselves over again. They think they need this to understand what THEY will mean to the ultimate plan. If all goes well we'll be able to break this cycle and enter into the agreement phase. That's all we can hope for, at this point, anyway. All of the players are a bunch of obstinate assholes, as you have claimed. This will, perhaps, be enough of a distraction to get us through to the next phase."
He was right.
Once the interview was published and the main splain was re calibrated, the hippies went back into production backing off full-fledged sexual revolt. The Easter Celebration was like a diaper that let the shit flow without there being too much of a mess for Holdon to clean up. After this burst of work, Holdon was glad he did the interview, after all, because at least it had stemmed the tide. The Elite went back to their family life. Holden was able to lie for a long nap, the speed was wearing off.
Thursday, November 15, 2018
For Tiny Tim
no matter how
the donkey kong ends
we will not be able
to affect our existence
the way we want to
I hold you in my arms
you are 100% dog
and there's only a need for
REVOLUTION NOW!
because we've been one upped
by the dogma we created
get it?
the donkey kong ends
we will not be able
to affect our existence
the way we want to
I hold you in my arms
you are 100% dog
and there's only a need for
REVOLUTION NOW!
because we've been one upped
by the dogma we created
get it?
Tuesday, November 13, 2018
Wolves
no solace for the androids
who live on the moon
a litany not fit for the pleurisy
that aches the heart
from the woods
the untamed wolf
sees the cities
under water
all of them Atlantis
who live on the moon
a litany not fit for the pleurisy
that aches the heart
from the woods
the untamed wolf
sees the cities
under water
all of them Atlantis
Monday, July 30, 2018
Insomnia
There's a raccoon in my kitchen
says he wants to fuck me
I don't want to get fucked
I want to be unfucked
I tell him this
He smiles gingerly and offers me a glass of sherry
We talk politics until there is nothing left
but sleep
says he wants to fuck me
I don't want to get fucked
I want to be unfucked
I tell him this
He smiles gingerly and offers me a glass of sherry
We talk politics until there is nothing left
but sleep
Sunday, July 29, 2018
Dream
I just woke from a horrifying dream where I saw my true self. The dream was a movie about reality. Reality only takes place in a high school setting where you are judged. My character has a girlfriend who is a vacuous teenager type person in a grown up body. My character's friends are the same. Patti Smith is also in the movie. Patti Smith is also in this dream. She is the only celebrity. This is not a good thing. The celebrity is a tortured soul that no one can know. There is a genocide going on all around me. A genocide of high school students who are grown ups. Some of us survive because we have hidden powers. I am happy to know I have a hidden power and I get to talk with Patti and she is aware of a person who is going to kill us but she also knows how and how to escape this fate. At the moment when this young assassin opens his bag with a grenade in it we both know what the grenade is made of and are able to diffuse it by not being afraid. This is the hidden power but it has a drawback. Anyone that doesn't have this power is a vacuous teenager and falls victim to the genocide. I am soon shown that I'm an assassin but it is not something I want to be and it is clear by my expression and it might be that the elders know this when they take me up to the top layer of muscle in this reality high school. I am at that moment afraid of dying.
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