open-source-eschaton - Tumblr blog

[open-source-eschaton]

Tumblr Kinda Sucks

New writing is going to be posted at the website above

Feel free to reach out by email anytime (it's on the blog's about page)

[open-source-eschaton]

Thanks For Playing

Every expectation was a sacrifice for more Entire oceans crossed to avoid settling the score Few knew themselves quite well enough to see the metagame While still remaining unable to stop themselves from playing

Every schizophrenic placed a warning in your ear That there are those among them who would weaponize your fear And they don’t feel the shame inside that you do at your limit Their persistence is a dare to every creature that could kill it

Every way to properly convey the urgency Also implies the presence of banal conspiracies Pervading every level of the structures that contain us Our consent is manufactured by the ones that entertain us

[open-source-eschaton]

Surety

Expectation is a poison and subversion is a cure The psyche is prepared to reject anything unsure Its apprehension of carefully-constructed affairs Would only leave it stale and yearning unexpected air

[open-source-eschaton]

The Cousin of Life (A Letter)

This is going to sound crazy, but we've got it all backwards. Sleep is the actual purpose of life.

Waking life only evolved in order to go to sleep. Dreams are the result of the brain dialing into a much more important state of consciousness. Everything we do in waking life is an intermediary state to gather the resources to keep dreaming.

Civilizations and empires have been wasted on the assumption that there is actually something to do outside of dreams. There is, of course, but it misses the point.

I've been learning about a society that spent their time cultivating a species of mushroom to catalyze more elaborate dreamstates. Their entire culture revolved around facilitating the best sleep possible. They even worshipped cats, who seem to have already figured this out.

They vanished at the turn of the century. There are still people alive who remember them, but no one knows what happened to them. They were oral traditionalists, so there are no written records outside of a few mushroom cultivation and identification guides. They left everything behind.

I am going to stay here awhile and write more about this. If you don't hear from me again, start looking for me in your dreams. I don't think they're as private as we think.

[open-source-eschaton]

Some oldies

[open-source-eschaton]

Supply and demand

Can we interest you, the taste Cured at proprietary pace It went unnoticed, slow hypnosis Now it begs for real estate

From the fire to the farming Got creative with our harming Do not ask for proof or process 'Cause the facts are too alarming

Marketing is never honest We're obliged to turn a profit Do not think too much about it Just a body, just a carcass

And the scale of it all is your way to forget That each point of sale buys a ticket to this And we'll give you hell if you try to protest Opposite of our carefully constructed fence

[open-source-eschaton]

Thanks for playing

Every expectation was a sacrifice for more Entire oceans crossed to avoid settling the score Few knew themselves quite well enough to see the metagame While still remaining unable to stop themselves from playing

Every schizophrenic placed a warning in your ear That there are those among them who would weaponize your fear And they don't feel the shame inside that you do at your limit Their persistence is a dare to every creature that could kill it

[open-source-eschaton]

Someday Song Titles (Part IV)

Marginal-Yield Margarine Recombinatory Orgiastics The Hibernating Psychosis of Predator and Prey Certain Mechanical Details Crystalized from an Acid Soup

Perfect Artistic Accident Planet's Haunted Quarter Machine Taoism Hotel Dinosaur Satellite Nail

Thumb Center Hood Night Racket Chair Web Nurse A Burst of White Noise in the Mid

Monkey's Haunted Masochistic Epistemology Danderless Refuge Maven and the Occult Consultants The Careful Uncareful Art

Corvid Crimes Sauce Age The Acid Bath of Neurology A Broader Ecological Slant Neurotic Energy Dynamic in the Mass Psyche

Understated Hi-Hats Petulant Perennial Solipsistic and Androgynous Every Possibly Turn Bad Salad

Metaphorical Fashion Usually Kinda Consciousness As An Injury Gathering the Chitin Romancing Platonic Forms

Persistent Random Misfortune Gender Angst Hour Apparently Inevitable The Art of Ish Odious Peddler

Acquiring Loss Unsolicited Arbiter Saturn in the Circus Ontic Obscuration Thanks Claudio

Coping Oculus Binary Mirror Rampant Implications Premature Poetry Esoteric Responsibility

Tao Jones Metaphysical Average Long Cosmic Mile Necessary Plurality Monistic Euphoria Significant External Pressure

Fungus Gardens and Rubbish Pits The Prosecution of New Targets International Paper Never Just Capricornian Coldness

Rolling Out and Haunted Range of Mechanical Potential Agitated Artist Wet Oats! Sinning Mantis

Whispers from the Quantum Foam Violent Emergence from Deep Sedation Malpractical Murder Hedonic Valences Nervous Storm

Concrescences of Ambiguity The Primary Datum Every Dragging Measure Nonparticipation Trophy Trophy Atrophy

Mental Health Consumers Bad Symptomology Vibe Consolidation Faster and Less True A Schizophrenic Level of Deja Vu

The Long Notes of Old Horns Fleeing the Self Deeply Unserious Stubborn Category God As Monsters

[open-source-eschaton]

“How are the poetry ghosts kept alive? Through new poetry, of course. The past and the present are always colliding in the body, sometimes violently. The poet is a bit of a messenger, right? I have doubts if my poems even come from me. They often come from elsewhere.”

— Sandra Simonds, from “Epiphanic Collaborations: A Conversation with Sandra Simonds and Summer J. Hart” by Alina Stefanescu, Identity Theory, published March 3, 2022

[open-source-eschaton]

2013

There’s something inside all of us that’s overjoyed at any affirmation. We’re all humbled before this thing. It perpetually understands, in the background, how random all of this really is and how little we can take credit for our circumstances. And even our deepest conscious efforts. They’re not for ourselves, in the end. Has the universe been asking itself this forever? What countless multitudes of self-aware creatures have risen from the froths of its potentials, across the infinitude of universes? By the strictest implications of infinity, it is this thing that has always existed -- and it cannot know why -- because when something has always existed, there is no why. There is no intent. There is no moment of creation, no fundamental motivation, no final reason. There is only a perpetual moment in which something springs, not from nothingness, but from the infinitude of pre-existing potential that nothingness implies. A fractal forever filling itself with its own implication, creating the space it fills. Moving in every direction at once and thus no direction at all. When I look at my hands and the sky and the leaves moving in the wind and wonder how something so absurd can be so beautiful, I am -- as far as I can tell -- the universe wondering this about itself. This mind isn’t mine. It doesn’t belong to me. There’s nothing about me that didn’t come from it. No soul that isn’t ultimately the soul of everything. It doesn’t know what it’s doing, it doesn’t know why it’s here, it just is. It keeps waking up and finding itself to be a self-asserting tautology so perfect that it’s actually unbelievable. It’s sleepwalking, forming stars and planets. It can’t believe itself. It tells itself stories, it struggles subjectively against its own objectivity. It screams at and kills itself. It kisses and makes love to itself. It experiences itself to forget itself and do it all again.

[open-source-eschaton]

If/When

It doesn't matter til it does The matter of the stars and the matter of the mud What's the matter with the dust It glows in the sun but it's dark in my lungs

Feathers for war or fun They fall from the sky and they fall when I run Taking hits from the sun Following the moon til my feet say I'm done

I'm made of metal that bends You could get to see the snap that happens at the end Too expensive to pretend That too many ifs don't require a when

[open-source-eschaton]

Is/Ought

Musing into rivers Intuition gives you shivers Into places you forgot existed Cobwebs cleared and threads retwisted Uttered words already shifted Piling piles and meta-bullshit Places you forgot, could exit Cutting paths right through existence

[open-source-eschaton]

[open-source-eschaton]

Because

There's a symbol for a silent kind of self that holds the sea A portal into you and a portal into me The air that hangs between us is to form us and to breathe I held the note until I couldn't, then I set it free He said we represent a truth that changes by the hour And when we open to it, vulnerability is power Those lines carried me into you, the space that always was The moment that destroyed the very fabric of because

[open-source-eschaton]

Selections from the Hypothetical Explanations Section of the Fermi Paradox Wikipedia Entry: A Poem

It is the nature of intelligent life to destroy itself It is the nature of intelligent life to destroy others

Humans have not listened properly Humans have not listened for long enough

Intelligent life may be too far away Intelligent life may exist hidden from view

Everyone is listening but no one is transmitting Communication is dangerous

Earth is deliberately avoided Earth is deliberately isolated

[open-source-eschaton]

Someday Song Titles (Part III)

Sliced Strawberries of the Mind Suboptimal Interpretation Sordid Ill-Repute Neverending Mental Health Crisis in the Newest Empire Hundreds of Melting Holograms Placebo Witch I'm An Idiot The Metaphysical Politics of 'Why' Symptoms of Various Deficiencies

Stone Made of Stones Merely Inspired Clandestine Chemist Casual Vanity The Mere Fact Triple Both Good Bad Times Pisces Crises

Designed to Terrify Perforated Psyche Obtained Loss Archetype Randomizer Gender As Fashion Can of Tendrils Dying Promise Gentle Intrusion Pre-Emptive Sense of Loss Poetic Disposition

Play Involves No Hidden Information Flirting with the Flying Saucer Industrial Capacity Human Segfault Juice Appendages of Gaia Murder Migration Spookbusting in the Anthropocene Moon Children International Liturgical Mania

Open Source Eschaton Silent Sayonara Side-Eye Amphibian Deep Soul Disappointment Recycled Ectoplasm The Ludicrous Notion's Precipitous Motion The Bulging Rug Hostage Society Chef’s Kissinger Semitones and Dissonance Sublime Mold Logos'd in the Shell Dangerous Vacation Armed and Arboreal Mayan Vaporwave Predictively Pareto Childish Gnosis Childlike Knows-This Pursuant to the Necessary Degree Jankier and Angrier McDonald Central Meat Nexus New Kind of History Velcro Soul Turn Upside Up Never Nothing Conjoined Baggage Sexy Double Fear Instant Sass

Between Plant and Ghost Cosmic Horror Cutie Basic Bitch Blended Basil Ever-Expanding Schema Null Fungus Multi-Orgasmic Howard Poor Bastard Creature

Intentional Ambiguity Morphogenetic Intent Scarcity of Traits Automatic Association Developmental Detour Primal Scream Vibecheck Hella Around

E-mail Address Used During BANDAI NAMCO ID Registration Slab Into Mouth D-List Ghost I Love To Be Neurotoxic Too Simple Sandwich Recursive Self-Inflicted Metaphysical Amnesia Foreclosure of the Signifier

Enthusiasm Cylinder Friendship Scientist True, Unfortunately The Presence Cube Refusal of the Dying Self H O T  B R E A D Scamsara Redirected Instincts