Consumerism
As ever, the attempt to put words to the lesson plan is potentially the hardest thing. For gal is my love. As we make it past the two court dates consecutively placed, a break from the forest and to the dells where we played maze toboggan through the wisconsin roads to VC where the first case was dismissed, one week after I drove down on Mon to enter a plea of no contest and found guilty for disorderly conduct and enhancer patch dropped.
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The Angs of West End:
Spokes zip as a car full of a group of two. When a swipe to a kick their company halted past the stop light in front of the library. The fight was about to begin. With a shove to the sidewalk tide on my flank, I popped back up with the krypto in my hand like a mini jump board, one move maybe two.
Poetic.
What is a individual on the one thousand different micro levels over the entire lifetime of friendships with one million of the same men and woman? Or is that the hoax. With something of such complexity it is hard to sort out in mind alone. Sometimes damaging. To live solely in mind, but shared minds of a timeline which is not preordained.
Though in mass calculations, general estimates could be expected. Especially created, to seam expected but to what point are our surroundings cast bound by life beyond that of its subject, set in a void of time - not in any form connected to the outcome of the future possible? But freak occurrences inside the bylaws of evolution have happened such as the additional protein in corn or such.
Theory: Everyone goes through the same time line at different times separated by the program to the same pre destined end - to this section of time.
Or maybe, there is a conspiracy to make it seem that way.
To split each person or thing to a separate world, or program. Connected by key words or events, or just connected to the other AI chat rooms to stimulate interaction inside the boxes of society.
Maybe its like copies of copies of copies of sections of times where people like me live in similar stories that intermingle with the revisions of a plot line like a esbanly line of pollution and shitting to the end of the world. All re written over itself competing to be heard.
Maybe no one knows where they are and the computer is just now trying to figure it out.
Or maybe that’s just the section I am in. How many sections? Maybe this entire world… maybe with a situation of this caliber that concept seems naive which may be the double.
And inside the trash heap? Or just one of the many trash heap gardens of the too cool. Or maybe you can see it by the dribbles. Or in their clothes or when they stutter or pause. But then why avoid any communication of it? Or reproduction of it?
The illusion that evolution is fake may only be a side tangent to an evolution simulation cover-up of a simulation of a even larger proportion of that, that they wish you to think but also don’t want to rent their world out to some leeches. Or loose their world to the neighboring governing worlds all working their characters like mexicans in a d-field.
The spectrum of entertainment.
Mircro game sale school world prototype Bear drop for the alt good - do not take chances for they will likely eat you. UNLESS WE HOLD PROOF.
Change to the overarching plot - richie rich and the woman from the woods make a baby for bobby pins war whore house in the future of earth.
To produce an environment of such pain and intolerance that slavery seems oddly humane. From the street side to the illusion of a world not filled with other people. To live here, you need to be protected.
By brothers boyfriends, gangs, weapons, insurance companies, lawyers, police social workers, doctors and bosses. Sometimes from your parents or family circumstance. (maybe always)
I wonder if I should be trying to determine the actual amount of individuals adding to this planet or that of the determined amount of individuals in the entire program that we reside. Or maybe I will do that later.
The man who made his way to the middle with the help of the world.
How much of your brain have they created?
But then why can no one talk about it?
So then in that case I would point out my family as the closest program to be affecting my future. But at this point I don’t know how responsible anyone who I relate with is for their actions, since this whole ordeal has sort of taken over at least my life, i have to assume it has affected the others around me, maybe they even know. Or have known my entire life, at this point. It seems like the system can penetrate any structure or mental stimulus so , don’t shoot the messenger. In an attempt to further themselves from the blast they took a multitude of shots at me through the string of the entire family. But, How much can i really blame a adolescent program trying to eradicate a seemingly tiny bug such as myself by respecting it by doing all that it could to protect it.
Almost took me out. But so did my _____
But maybe nothing is oriented inside a rational experience inside such a big world. But for me I have my reasons.
Like a hotel to a multitude of clones just the same as myself in similar combinations of substance packages inside of earth which is this section of this copy of this planet. It is as vicious and impossible as even the illusion that is exists.
[copies of copies of copies]
{must adhere with physics}
{must aline with dominant maps logs}
{all programs must run bear bug}
Attack on Mother Earth - Now that I finally know where I get my genetic AI experience from, lol.
We will ill will fill
My favorite individual
(statistically)
The hierarchy of things is an illusion of the physical mirage, deadly or irrelevant. Human politics? Real or fake? Nitrogen in beats? Both.
The bloody richness of the simple liberal & positive whipped boy trust slave.
In my modest cave prison.
And that’s how i got my dab.
Ways of inflection: Patch # 9 earth 62
Send em to da shredder.
Propaganda: To be coerced to believe you are alone or helpless or less than.
So say sorry to the people you now think were the some that you love.
Personal images are copyrighted.
Sections of life are stretched too thin to waste anything anywhere
Yes they did pick 90 mushrooms on november 24th for a dish at the store where you paid $30.
In the desolate scape of the vacuum of Unmerica, we give you Monopoly 2.
How much of what I do is pointless? Am I completely alone? Playful. Levels of players they call good.
Individuals.
You wait all day to do nothing so you don't take the chance of getting smoked but none the less you smoke yourself twenty times a day with the flick of a lighter you bought to drown your whiskers in the scent of the yellow hint of a nicotine fiend.
So say what you will about my rocky past. I have been advised to stay silent. But that is always the advision of a mathematician. That of a mathematician I am, but I must not know or maybe this would all be different.
And for all the children.
And for the illusion that of a dinosaur. For the future no doubt. This machine will be replaced after you are gone. With an elephant.
This structure is confusing for the lack of a better word. Like sculpture made out of shit or a city built on sand stone. I’m not sure if it is deemening to be treated like a child when you have been made to feel like a child in a world where thoughts much bigger than ourselves can be manifested as conglomerates. Though they are only natural deposits of sections of electrons and neutrons being attracted to sections like magnets in the same fashion society has molded them, maybe for only moments but that structure still holds true… here. But in some places people just vanish. Into nothing. So is that the story we are telling our children?
Or is it the other way around?
I am only trying to point out that if this truly was an emergency. For the entire galaxy. This would be a pretty safe place to hideout. That is until the city crumbles into the sandstone in a few thousand years or we bomb it into smoke it with our vehicles. I know this city stands on sand stone. I know that this sandstone could be radioed by space machines and crumbled to the sea. I know this technology exists because I made it up. I made it up because I have a library of traumatic images and stories in my head from popular movies. Then after my brain chemistry was programed into their overarching computer and it started feeding me frequencies to bring my consciousness or body to places of great precision. No matter what your thoughts are. They can curve them. From inside your mind? Or is it a filter on the perceived images that are transmitted?
These are questions for the premise of the book. For how can I even write the premise of a book I do not know the story of.
So for this assignment I will test out the bridge levers and fix a few doors. Hang my underwear on the wall and pee in to the vast expanse of the last forest known to man (and woman) kind.
