it’s been quite some time that i’ve taken true time out in front of the laptop screen and just typed — tonight is a little bit special in that i can smell that wonderful memory inducing sharp smell of what i see visually in my minds eye as red wood and charcoal nearby, the heater is churning away. warmth.
i tuned into a show earlier, one of those mspwaves things, the retrowave show, i like the lady who does it, she has a nice voice and you can tell she has the capacity to maintain a positive spirit and does great at laying down a path of required listening while applying real gumption to the shows output. i like what’s she’s doing and the retro wave vibe is most welcomed.
so yeah, let’s go sideways..
i’m not sure when or why it happened to me exactly, when and why i decided to lock down on life, maybe it was the very strict line in the sand i had put down the number of times previously — stopping this project, that relationship, that exception. one day, i was just kinda done.
what if comments were stories inside of stories, stitched together adaptions to the original runtime code, maybe declining mental health is not something to be seen as broken but instead just new poorly written analog firmware breaking down because of bad storage and ill prepare surroundings.
i’d carried that with me, weekend train trips back and forth, days when you know the train would be cancelled and that buses were laid on instead, getting trapped and wondering why me, things like that rack up you know, you carry them, like boxes of vhs tapes of fond moments and memories that you don’t realise you might not have the machine to ever watch them back.
full hermit i went, maybe it was the only way i was ever gonna get to the countryside after all i never had aspirations above my station because i never really knew if i had anything apart from my obsession of voyeur of life little nuances — in the distance right now in true futurism time warps i hear a police helicopter, i think of seventeen year old kids nicking a car trapped inside a moment with an obvious outcome. i hope it’s swift.
a story quoted inside a story with no clear instruction set, but all of the sets together, needing the people with the correct pieces to glow and light up when the sequence fit — maybe all along it was not our intention to wait or line up all our expectations, maybe by sabotaging them would reveal the hidden ink, maybe if mr logan’s run had not asked about the ‘ankh’ he would have ended up becoming an e-sports player in LA?
predictable we are, instructions sets, stitched together like little bits of machine instruction but without that boot loader we are just a sequence of events without action, multiple destinations, partners maybe, emotions definitely — no without the boot loader we are formless.
the helicopter no shit is now over head. i feel like they have found me, maybe this is it, when the door flies open, incredible lights on the grass like daylight, dogs barking, over saturated in sweat kebab induced portly police offices in full thrust clanking like it was their job to carry every bit of familiar memorable insignia eagles designed with intention upon their chests.
like the film intro to ‘escape from new york’ i’m expecting the carpenter track to start up soon, maybe those faux pseudo cgi styled animation elements were played out somewhere in the middle east in the early 90’s, found their way on someone elses old video tape collection that formed their missing block, their missing boot loader to eventually tape together a terrifying reality life version of events explained so life like that you would forgive the traveller who left future clues for us in sci-fi we took as art.
i’ve lost all compassion for my writing at this stage, it’s 11:05 and all i want to do is be done now, what started out as mildly intriguing and defining of an unusual saturday even cascaded in using quotes to tell a story inside a story that was not really a quote at all, the quote did not exist elsewhere.
i’m plagued with thoughts of end times and yet i’m so comfortable with their trajectory, after all, it comes to all of us right — now don’t get me wrong here not in any kind of suicide or depression mentality, just realism, expected, downshifting into a corner because it’s obvious that’s what you do if you want a good outcome.
i remember a friend once saying to me that they asked someone what they thought of me, in a kind way, wanting to know if my twitter persona and my real life matched up, i found the answer liberating and surprising. . she said. . ‘i don’t know, i’ve not met him yet’ — the most sincere thing I’ve ever heard said about an interaction even at face to face value.
i’ve always carried that with me, that even thou she spoke to me, i looked at her and she looked at me, she never really met me — was i hiding, was i putting on a mask, a face, playing out a sequence of events that fit the shell of the character i assumed i was? maybe i was missing the boot loader.
the truth is everyone is looking for the right journey for them, we don’t even know it most of the time as the noise of the revolving door world means that we often hit the time clock out before we even wake up into the day — that time clock has already been stamped out for us and yet we enter into our supposed day like blind mute people formless to the shape it expects.
upon the matter of removing ones drama from ones life i have to say this — i do so to cause and effect on both sides, i for one will chase the rabbit down the hole in stupid poor navigation, you will stop and ask and i’ll be frustrated, you decide to do it and i’m ill prepared and i wish i never knew about the rabbit — i guess, we are just different — our trajectories are different, i never want to be one to have been privy to potential boot loader corruption, heck, i’m still working out if i patched all the memories to fit or if i truly learned anything along the way.
that’s a lie right there. i lied to you, because i wanted to feel that time had brought me character. don’t we always want to maintain our character when it can moderately serve us well? why change the way you operate when the codes in place, will the AI overlords spent time constantly evolving their code base or just become familiar with what the wonders of a correlated series of outcomes deliver us.
my sleep now will be rich even if my wrist is in pain, like i’m being forced to stop writing, like i’ve hacked my own booting block of system time and the sysadmin is not ready to accept his runtime crash is to come — initialising patch after patch, mental and physical, i pursuit to win will be our ultimate demise, soaked in the greed of intellectually gentrifying our ability to retrieve the next moment upvote in hope of acceptance.
no the truth of the matter is we living all those potential outcomes, all at once, some times, they leak in, like the light leak of a sunshine through a tree glade as you mix the warmth of summer and the fold of the ice cream in fond cloud store retrieval — i’ve had many a spark of reminders of love hand in hand with love ones that if the great flash came at that moment my unison with blistering scorching nucleur anger would be soothed with winning the moment with the crisp reminder of vanilla ice-cream.
i guess i’m at peace in some ways with the notion that i might have decompiled the boot loader and got lost in the first sector, looping, content, reflecting on the wonder of the vast potential of a species on constant replay - genuinely internal happy, settled, rested, expecting nothing and receiving everything at once.
maybe i’m just the guy who writes the boot loaders and falls through the door of light in a swathe of bullets and blood soaked clothing.
-humble.