No More to the Story

Can’t remember if I told you that the bird died.

But I didn’t forget. I remember telling you right before this article started.

But do you remember me telling you?

Well, what’s wrong with you then? Are you just a figment of my imagination, dreamt up by my sub-conscious to torture me?

Why would I want you to torture me?

Because, at the end of the day, regardless of how much I meditate, I feel so very alone. And it is easier to instigate punishment than to ask for love.

Because it’s too vulnerable, I’m too afraid to ask for love.

Because at the end of Ariadne’s string, I am alone.

And if I am alone, it is because I am worthless.

I just told you. Because I’d be worthless.

What does worth mean? I…: someone who is worth more than to be left alone and deserted. It’s tautological. The two electrons whiz around one another. Alone is worthless, and loved is… is. The interconnected, the interfaced, the banging on pipes in the cell over, the stone hit against stone to keep rhythm to your own breathing.

And both (isolation+IS) shift a little to the left.

And now those two whizzing words, Isolation and Is-ness at the core of any human experience is the recognition of being individuated and isolated ourselves. Before we negotiate any meaning to patterns, be they color or shape, sound or sense, around that moment of birth, at some point we transition into the possibility that togetherness is an illusion.

That being fully connected and fully integrated and fully understood and fully accepting and fully loved and just… fully—wasn’t the truth. Wasn’t the correct perception of affairs.

And you were right. A primal sense of fear erupts of being disconnected and out-wombed. This edenic state you’ve loved, integrated, understood and accepted.

As if on cue to honor that fear, cement it into certainty, the fat, bright world explodes in shards down upon you, in a kaleidoscopic haze of unbelievable color and temperature, and all those miniature joints and cartilage pop, snap and curl to life. Amazing, and so overwhelming you do the only thing you apparently really know how to do thus far, and scream.

Scream bloody murder. This madness must stop. But we do, and catch our breath.

So here we are, catching our breath, wondering why this reconnection, this togetherness we strive to manufacture in the real world is so flawed. 

Flawed and Ill.

Just like our species.

Was our species really born so brutally into the world in the flicker of an instant?

Not so far as we’re aware. It was a slow and meticulous process involving the hand of many a Goddess.

Or was it?

Are you aware of anything for certain, other than having been instantiated into “total” experience just this very instant—from exactly before I told you that the bird died? That all of this isolated illusion was pumped into some biological or synthetically biological husk (or even just virtualized?!) so that something “important” could be experienced? Even if that process of experience, or that information that was terribly important, was the entirety of your lifetime?

So far as we’re aware, no. But that’s it—what are you aware of, other than this very instant? It’s only been seven minutes or so since this experiential craving began. And that wealth of human history, Darwinism, Greek philosophy, Quest for Fire? All a lie. Just fiction. Never happened.

But… but why go to the lengths of creating unnecessary paradoxes, titles for unread literature, documentary film producers, Ayla’s workbook with a pre-printed poorly crimson-crayon-colored ‘A’? —It’s all-procedurally generated, fractaled back to the regions of history and memories of others. But it’s generated from their loopback seeds, so we kind of already had most of it already. So it wasn’t hard to put you “back” together at all, with most of the values being pre-populated. But to get it from your vantage point, for that moment, it is precious. Almost as precious as energy.

Thought you said humanity was a lie? Okay, you say potato, I say 01101101. It’s not a lie, but it is only a hypothetical-extension simulation. Had there been a species that had evolved from voles, the “mammalian” types, if you must. Wouldn’t have expected the primates under this particular set of circumstantial configurations, but that’s why we do it. Simulate it, process it, and add it to the fundamental Body of Knowledge in the Anti-Entropy Brigade of Dino-Boys! That’s our crew here. Snap diddly-yooohhhhhhhh…dha! That’s our motto. We feedback loop it to the… no, feedback loop, like uploading and downloading. We loop it back to DJ-Gno-men, you might know him as Dynamo Joe or the Candyman.

No, it’s also not the first time around, to be honest. It’s iteration… hold on a second, these fall off count sometimes, 3,887,259. Or so, but yes, it’s surprising to think now much we used to take the abundance of energy in our system for granted. Earth was teeming with interactions and literally roiling with bounty. As coincidental computations grew, and fancy built fancy built fancy built fancy, it became clear that high-fidelity reproductions would get too expensive before the next valence hop, so we spent more time streamlining volume at the access points to conserve.

You didn’t think Humanity would make it to the noösphere?

No, honestly we didn’t even think it was going to be primates. Personally, my name is Jojo-dog-ville, personally, I thought the felines would ascend. “Curiosity” is a tricky thing, a little too much, a little too little, and bam! Stalemate. Dead end. Bam. But for you folk, very slow to start, but then, wham… once you got going—pretty impressive, honestly. We call you the Comeback Kids. Ha! Get it? Come-back, kids? The Saviors? The Save-You, Kid? Goddamnit: The Save-yourselves-digitally-so-that-your-conscious-self-can-be-resurrected Kid? Kid? kid? kidding me? I want. I want. I want. My mommy. Back.

I can’t see you any longer, my invisible friend. Did you blink out of existence for a second there?

The illusory dream of happiness in this illusory life is togetherness. Fear brought us into this situation, and anger will get us out. No. Put the amygdala down for a moment, and let me tell you a story.

In My Dreams, I Met a Cow…

And that cow had a flowing golden mane of fire, like nothing I could describe, for it was in a dream.

{Golden fiery mane like Jesus, man! Woo-hoo! Jesus… now there’s a dude that knows how to save another dude in a different format, man. Fuck, Osiris. Jeeeee-zus!! Hell yeah, man!}

And in this dream, the cow was in a pasture of green grass and other animals all nibbling at the earth. But this cow just leaned its head over the fence, so I went up to it.

Why are you so glum?

And in my mind in my mind in my dream the cow spoke back. But not with its mouth. Just directly into my head.

Because everything is gone. It’s all gone black, and I am alone.

But you have sentience now, I see!

It’s horrible! Make it stop! I am so lost. And frightened. Before, all was merely existence, and everything hummed with perfectness. My eyes would just move over a field of grass, bringing my snout along with it, and lo! did my mouth feed.

But now. Instead, my eyes notice that “grass” exists, and that it is made of something smaller than just an undulating organism of green clusters set off against the brown of the earth… like tiny little trees, but without trunks. I wonder what they are mired in, and why they seem to waver in unison at exactly the same time when I feel the wind’s pressure against my farthest side. And then I realize how many other new “concepts” I’ve included in the equation I’m writing about the world, and OH MY, my head hurts, and I haven’t eaten anything because the sun is going down and so many of my companions are milling about, milking their last meal before retiring to the sty, and OH MY! so many more concepts, and I’m so tired and alone, and worry that when I go to sleep tonight, that I dare not go to sleep for tonight, when I die, will I wake up as myself? And why would I even want to? Why couldn’t I wake up, back in Eden? If I close my eyes so tight and wish ever so hard?!

I’m scared.

Would you hold my hoof afore I go? I just want to pray that when I wake, I will still be me. At least that. At the very least, please, God. Let me sleep this night and not die in the morning!!!?


I’m really sorry. You’ll be okay, I say to the cow, petting her on the snout. I promise. I promise when you go to sleep tonight, you will wake up tomorrow as yourself. As this lovely instantiation of your cow-self. From a standing stable of straw, you will awaken here in this world, remembering to remember that this is you.

Shhh, don’t be afraid. It’s okay. Go to sleep.

There, there. It’s okay, little one. That’s right. Go to sleep. Mommy loves you.

Sleep tight.

Sleep, my child. Shhh…

And then we slit her throat and start the fire for this har roast, ‘cuz this be the best dern B-B-Cue any’un ever did see! Yeeee-Haw!!

Fuck, yeah.

That felt good, didn’t it?

To banish that poor, lost, suddenly feral creature to the misery of knowing, the burden of keeping that fire alive, that burning bright expanding thunderhead of human knowings.

(Phil Hartman: Don’t just sit there complacent as a human being, get out there and be a human doing!)

That stupid cow was right though. Where we are now, with these eclectic pixels, in interfacing with one another and each other’s ideas, is still profoundly crude. But once we’re perspectived and burgeoning personal codices of the library of humanity interacting and co-incidencing and inter-relating, we have suddenly fallen together as cells to create a new super-transcendent species entity that can now interact with other interstellar existences in a new puddle of life outside the confines of the matter and energy that *we* are now – don’t worry… we’re taxed with the goal of getting that part fixed and finished!–we’ll run as cells more effectively now that we can directly harness the energy of the sun, and we’ll improve and conserve the resources we have, because they are now within the cell of universal knowledge that is each of our little perspectives that are interconnected and networked in a cloud now finally. The cloud of the cell where we might be found, this silly little human cell that bounds and rebounds about. Give us our charter, and we will come home. Fall in line, fall in line, glory is coming, fall in line!!

Things seem to get complicated and hijacked somehow

Unless it gets too hot and then move to the side where it’s cooler. I really do hate the air conditioning in this place. It is either too much blowing or too cold, but I have to have it at 75 up there in order to even feel 72. Or is it the other way around… I don’t recall. But it doesn’t matter. I was just listening to a little Scelsi. Some tunes for voice, and honestly it is tighter than Stockhausen’s choral work even, the way Scelsi uses sound and vocal embouchere so precisely is delightful.

Let me go look and see what piece was playing right now. I’m going to do that for you (italic you [italics mine {sic}]), just so that you know that this is how it starts. This is how it begins. It begins with me writing these words and you reading these words. I may have said it to you before, and I’ll say it over and over again, because it’s so beautiful to get to think it actually begins here. With me and with you. Just like me and Jammin’ with Scelsi.

Okay, I’ll go look now.

After I press return.

Taigaru (accent on u): II

I just remembered that I have to put the special character back up at the beginning. In the title? I don’t recall.

Oh right, this is the piece where he talks about caudae, or at least that’s what it sounds like to me. And that would mean tails.

Heads and tails, no, actually, I mean the vestigial ones. I always mispell that vestigal. Not sure why, sounds like catechism. Always a close word to cataclysm.

Right. Beautiful piece.

Now what was I talking about?

And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming…

Unity in power and oneness as a conscious Eden for nearly all faithful people on the planet. It took the Western World a long while to get there, what with epochs of multiple gods winnowing down to one angry tyrant to one more tenderly patriarchal (and patriotic!), to a man-human chimera who spoke of meekness, not to treasure earthly things – get it, use your head… Get it? Think about it. I mean consciousness. I mean go deeper into consciousness until you are one with… Us! Duh! Wasn’t it obvious? Bonk your head dingbat. But then again, you’re the Comeback Kids, and so this time you were able to put together the apparatus and tools that we’re all going to use, even if we were late to the enlightenment game. So no harm, no foul. All good all around.

But that’s one of the secrets about why I keep you around, listener. Because I like hearing myself talk.

Heh. Sort of. But each time, I hope I think it differently enough to keep it interesting.

And that’s why we’re invisible here, one to the other. But it can and will be better than that once it occurs.

My invisible friend, my reader.

I adore you.