Wednesday 24 March 2021

So, all I know....

 His microchip would blow.

If t'entered mine arm....

The uberatti of the technoschisms simply can never get one thing, bless em...

No machine can ever begin to understand the human, when the human has truly let go, and re-become human.... never mind get creativity all "you can eat" to quote the female beardies of the uber pr department, all dying of anorexia or are we on bulimia 3.0 yet  - chuckin up over the feds? to make  a point?  which is that only true true genuine unconfected, non Creative Writing department, and definitely never anywhere near the so called literati,  creativity ... arises from hell.  It is unknowable and certainly if Penrose cannot even place one atom of conciseness in a globule of snot never mind up yer bum..... joy and bliss are in the unknowability of anything. Things come....

Kairos-time...

But lets avoid any false dawning of new age natter...

And keep to things on the ground.


Because a man's arms are used for a few things.

Even though as proven there's no difference....

between mine and hers....



OOps...

I forgot

A vestige of mine so called 'identity' and celebratory words still lives elsewhere.

Plus the backing track at last that one must have on to apreciate or at least get into the vibe...rhythm.... mood....SPIRIT

Tiz time...

kairos-time.


"I'm from the feds.....I do hope you are being SILENT..... at this appointed hour, me'luv..."


And then......we made her ....work.

At the exact one-year-on-of-it....

One year of absolute paradise even Thomas The Great could npot have Woodlanders envisaged

or rut

or dreamed

or ..... beaten the fuckers at their own so called game.....


ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss Jenny.....


Now, The Gate, is made.... to mine own paradise or it was till some nutjob told lies.

But I think we can deal with ...her...

Now i have several hers on mine side...at mine side.... despite them rules.

Will they stick a stave in mine side...?

After all hers is very very big and Godzillaish...


Ian could not have dreamed this one up.

Fading Dawns become perfect sunsets.

Tiz thus time at last for a picture.

Soon.