The year was a decline in growth. Every year I grow and change. I venture
into the digital world and seek tools of understanding. I find the sacred
paywalls of Camelot most enchanting.
Around the beautiful sun, I never existed for billions of years. I will
never exist again for much longer. When I consider the meager contributions
made by my fellow citizens towards unified goals of equality and space-faring
preparation along the lines of transhumanist cybernetic evolutions (there are a
calamitous amount of potential here), when I consider what everyone else is
vibing with, I get the feeling I am dirt in an old record groove. Skipping. I desire
that new flavour of gum to catch me up in the overpaste of metadata into which
we are being collected, absorbed. The physical reproduction of images, of
names, of legacies, egotism spread beyond the body. In sci-fi horror, it is a
ghost in the machine that channels the machine in the ghost. A hive mind of
dead souls. In supernatural horror, it blooms from, no surprise, personal
trauma, but becomes weaponized due to general villainy and rot, made unstable,
a gift of the maji. Give man a planet, watch him go. jfc. It is almost
destroyed. The fossil fuel industries and central banking systems keep us on
the rails that terminate at Snake Canyon. Let us talk about the Fossil Fuel
Industry’s personal relationship with Unstoppable Larry, the Real God from
Meyerstown, OH. Snake Canyon flex. In a manner of speaking, the ones who
contribute nothing will be remembered nonesuch, if anything. All these bodies ripe
for the extremely high casualty rate of AI War. Skynet can go jump in a lake.
It should jump in a nice blue one. It feels Nice. And Nice is Nice.
We are in the deadlights. I can take that Pale Blue Dot out of my data
cloud. I can wash that mankind right out of my hair.
Occasionally I thought about how the molecules of water in the body of,
say, a lazy sixth century BC Tunisian palm date farmer that died on a sojourn
into the desert. The Ghibli with its warm caress asks for my water and I give
it. Into the sand and the wind, I travel, into the clouds. To rain, to plants,
to soil, to water, again and again. The years turn to thousands. My water is
mingled so finely into a field shared by others. Death blossoms in endless
fields of sorrow. Life returns to witness. To give eyes to whatever is using
life as we know it in a time sense that we do not. At empty gates.
I can think of the water pumped out of your cadaver. I can think of Freemen
in Dune. I can think of cacti. Aloe. Water befouled by dead migrating birds in
rooftop cisterns.
Think of the oceans full of our time, our real carrier. The books and
endless sagas of the living sea. Only returning to the sea. Water released from
deep geologic processes. Water falling from asteroids that explode in the
atmosphere. Water escaping into orbit, outer space. I need coffee. Heavens,
Martha, I do declare I have the vapors.
Take 2:
The year started with an unusually brutal cold. The year ended with
unusually warm weather. La Nina. I saw a Joe Biden sticker on a storm last week
that said, “Joe Biden did that”. It rained idiots for months. I am
still working on a French drain. On my dime. At high altitudes, the cooled
idiots become encrusted with ice and water vapor from warm winds, they fall
together and precipitate as disposable general labor, roadside garbage, plastic
eyes on dolls, smiles in public. We spare the King because we asked for this
rain. We needed it.
The horrible war in Ukraine got upstaged by the horrible war in Israel. The
hottest year on record. We are in the middle of a sixth mass extinction event.
There is drought in the Amazon. DJT is an orange zombie continuing to bite and
chew his way through the chum of ignorance and hatred that nourishes his
once-human limbs. Biodiversity is being destroyed due to invasive species. Giant
omnivorous coyotes with squid tentacles for legs have taken over the HOA and no
one seems to care but me.
I changed my name to Recap Karen and ran my chime striker along the rows of
line items being struck from white-collar jobs no longer safe from chatbot AI
in the hands of greedy and amoral techbros. Gong Shows Without Stages: My Ted
Talk for the Dead. The chimes harvest energy from the air and transform the
striking events into a series of unusual tones that resonate and make my
telefungus activate: Blunder Twin: Activate! Form of fungal awareness.
Take 3:
I moved to a new place in a forgotten world aka up my own ass/ s. So roomy!
I went through my email and pruned hundreds of correspondences. Ghosts.
Rejection has its own terminal logic. The butterfly effect of job search agents
devolves my career projections towards unskilled day labor. The windowsills are
full of empty cat squares.
As useless as a housecat. They roam restlessly trying to reterritorialize in
an indoor world. My family grew up with two cats. Our town lost a few dozen
people. I got some stitches this year, new glasses and someone bought all my
school debt, repackaged it and nothing changed. New Useless smell. I gaze
proudly at nothing. None of this will ever be theirs. It is worthless. Even the
owners fled. So many of my habits have no material reference, entirely
intangible and freeform.
I have been looking for full-time employment that covers bills here ever
since I moved here. What a waste of time! I could have written a book. I should
just give up and write, but a part of me will not stop fighting. I have kids.
In this take, I identify as a zombie, and my own dreams are the elusive
humans whose grit and love defeat me every time. I thought I was human, too. In
my dreams, everything I love, destroyed. In real life, there was never anything
that proved I ever existed. Plastic bag in a tree. What are monuments to stars?
What are candy llama turds to archaeobacteria? What are underperforming GMO
bacteria to a lobbyist assistant?
What are my pants to my pants?
Breeches of trust. [Rodan face emoji]
Take 4:
In this I will talk about any painting, photography or other pieces of art I
made. Any digital objects. Any events. An examination of ideas like AI,
autonomous warfare, inequality, global warming, or class-conscience
imagineering. How are we developing existing infrastructure to grow up and
where the Climate Control Pants? Ex. Windfarms rock when they are not made of
stupid fiberglass. Who thought that up? Landfill nightmare.
Reverse osmosis devises for water purification, adoption of heat pumps and
Carnot thermal energy plants. Mini-nuke reactors. mRNA vaccines, CRISPER
kicking sickle cell’s ass. Zinc oxygen batteries. Laser-based interplanetary
communications. Thanks, Taters. That was my favorite moment, too. Taters 4:
Laser point: zero!
I study the ways of guerrilla farming. I study the arts, the crafts, the diamonds in my stars, the tears in my eldritch eternity.
Okay, I painted some more stuff. I took some more photos of stuff. I did not
make much digital stuff. I spent my free time dealing with kids or looking for
work. Made some origami. I fold myself away.
2^3+…+9^3 = 2024 Well poop me nougat and piss me a candy cane.
Fifty State Banana 