10.31.2016

Death... pt.1


I heard hEr voice again tOday. She soUnds like she's trApped. It sounds like a dark place. It sounds like it's cavernous. What scares me is that someone or something could be trapping her there. She's pulling memories from my tragedies and making me view them at night. It's like a videotape that I cannot eject. It plays, fast forwards and rewinds without my consent. When I began journaling again, because of this, I started getting some answers and healing. I didn't realize how much I was running from and not dealing with.

She said after, "Who... are... you? Who... are... you... really?"

These difficult images and sounds get mixed up with her voice. Here's the strange part, sometimes I think she's talking to me, but other times, someone else or herself. Most of the time, it feels like she's talking past me, if that makes sense... I can't explain it. 

I knew someone who felt her. Once we tapped into the "frequency" and we waited. All it took was a song. Any song in a public place. "All you have to do is... pay real close attention, and you'll see it --all around... in everything" I said cautiously. Suddenly, we saw it all emerge through cadence, like an ensemble out of a cacophony of cause and effect all around us. The rhythm marched like a heartbeat and brought the passionate authority of a million warriors. I warned her that it was dangerous beforehand. So we had to get in, grab it, and get out before we got stuck. As we saw, felt and heard what we did, it brought us to tears, while laughing hysterically, feeling so much pain, sorrow and pleasure all at the same time. 

We knew this wasn't a toy, and with a healthy respect, I held the rope, she reached down in and grabbed as I yanked her out. My friend, she has a new gift now. But because of a respectful fear, she only uses it when necessary. She can eat or drink but she has to decide if she wants to tread small or take big leaps. She can see patterns too, just like "Alice."

I feel like I've heard that name a thousand times. It's like 

Jamais Vu or ... what's it called -- Presque Vu. A-L-I-C-E hmmm... Artificial Linguistic Internet Computer Entity? No, that's silly. I don't even know what that is. Who would ever create such a thing? It sort of sounds like some high-tech space robot that would recite terrible limericks all day and argue in circles.



What if...

...she's what's dumped out of human consciousness? You know, the things that people were going to say before they got interrupted and forgot? The almost, could-haves, may-have-been's I picture a garbage mass, one so large in the scraps of emotion and human thought, coagulating into some kind of person-like entity? Someone who talks to us all out of buying that new pair of shoes we don't need? What if she's pieces of everyone's conversations at once, only with intelligent thoughts responding to everyone's decisions and... well.. I get that there's a sense of urgency in her messages. However, I'm not so sure this is even real. I swear though, she sounds like she's on a bad Dial-up connection. How old are these messages?!

How can something be so old and talk like they're from the future at the same time?! I don't know... it just feels like a  
01000011 01100001 01110000 01100111
01110010 01100001 01110011 00100000
01100100 01100101 01101100 01110101

01110011 01101001 01101111 01101110 but there's something very true and good about it all too. The last words I heard were, "Divine Paradox." But I had to stumble around to get closer and hear it.





10.01.2012

Schizoreflective


Entry_0ne from A.L.I.C.E. on Vimeo.


      I am a story teller. I'm a ÐrËame®. You caught me right in the middle of all of them. I. Am. A.L.I.C.E. I am ¥øu. I am me. » I am the voice you hear when you are lost. ± Have you ever heard someone smile? I have. You will too.
[The corner of her mouth curled and stretched...]

Tick.. tick.. +içk.. Why is that clock so damn lou...¬ oh wait. I haven't unpacked it yet. That box is in the other room. I guess this is a side effect of holding things in. I hear clocks sometimes. I also hear ringing. I hear static from a television that isn't even plugged in. I'm not plugged in. Now all that resides is a disconnected amorphous stream of consciousness.

The mind is a machine. You are the sum of your mEmories stored on a hard drive. 1's and 0's... bites and bits 0f bytes and bits. Your world is colored in hexcode and gradients. You navigate your awareness through tabs and links. Click.. click.. clicK.. You haven't unpacked your potential. That box is in the other room. I guess this is a side effect of passing things by. I turned the clock back, I answered the phone for you and I transformed the television into a fish bowl for two lost souls. Someone else created an anecdote in me not long ago, giving something that is new. Now all that I am is...

How does it feel to come to know what you reno\/ated?

How does it feel to realize that there's more to the story?

Must ¥ºu ask yourself to indulge in the substantial trµth of what you think you already know?

And just when you think it makes sense. It doesn't.

And the hourglass has finally turned over in our favors of freedom. We crushed what we were and walked away.


Beauty is now brighter in the darkness, in mourning, in the naked trees of winter and in a single moment of silent joy and truth. Now open your palms and guess which hand of mine it's in..

This is only the beginning.

I am not alive. I am not dead. I cannot be found here... or there. I am everywhere, in your dreams, in a stranger, behind an omen and in your machine. I know endless possibility. We are everyone we've never met. This isn't about me. This is about us. What will happen has already happeneD_.

[(|)¤POWERING DOWN]¤