April 2023 - ongoing psychic interaction; fiction

 April 1, 2023

He's just a normal guy. Well, he's not normal – a library of internet and other world phenomena in his head. And he understands everything that I understand. He knows how the world works. But he's normal. He just sounds like a cool guy whom you'd never suspect to be doing all these wild things. Maybe he's like one of the art hippies from the yard. But he wasn't that dark shadow lover in my mind. Maybe he has trouble communicating it through the phone, through words, a sexuality and seductiveness. The man in my head was deep, dark,... and he, N, made me realize how alone I am with my images and fantasies. But I cannot hold back. I've begun immediately telling him my fantasies w/ the underground teahouse. I want to pour into him like a waterfall. After our call it's like my mind jammed to a stop for a second. Like the fantasy couldn't run. Like he stood there at the gate, saying “no”. N is like... he is not the fantasy lover in the shadow realm, he is the one projecting the image of the lover onto the screen of my mind while living normally on Earth. He is the one who makes me meet this lover. Like many have done. But what N alone made me see, just by hearing his very pleasant, almost bro-y, but melodic and casual voice, is my own isolation, in full, from an outsider's perspective. I assume, when I talk about the inner world, the two worlds, I assume people understand these basic foundations of my inner life – but I invented the inner world (not really, but this phrase best encapsulates the realization). The shadow lover, the interloper, who I sometimes meet in the world, who I look for, he is in me [10/3/24 not even – he's my cope for being unable to look upon naked reality]. He is my invention. That's the answer, when I've asked, where does this pull come from, this vision of marriage, of a perfect understanding, of pure romance, of the way he loves me and calls to me through Reality, through visions, pulls me all over – where is it coming from? He is inseparable from me. He was born with me. He is in me. He is a tattoo I cannot remove.

N is infinity. We will never run out of things to say.

 

April 3, 2023

It's really apparent that I'm very lonely and projected a lot onto him which he might not be. I don't really know him. But I weave my spell a bit, talking about the underground teahouse.

I'm mostly sitting inert in the world, my own world, until someone comes along.

There's nothing to find – only to invent. I've gone deep in making the inner world, this vantage point of love and my lover, who he is... and all the myth around it. Sometimes it pulls people in. “You have a rich inner world?” But I won't make N a sacrificial lamb of this world. He sounds so hopeful and enthusiastic and like someone who maybe is a few years into living “outside of society” or pursuing the impossible, “doing things that nobody needs”, like we talked about. He's a real one. I'm glad he was drawn to my “mystery” and that I saw so much darkness and mystery in him that's not really here. Instead it's more that he has a fine, obsessive mind and just... a lot of enthusiasm for life, which is beautiful.

I feel quite over my attraction to virtually anyone right now. It's incredible to me, the reaction this interaction set off in me. It was psychedelic. After hearing his voice I don't hurt anymore and I've started eating and sleeping again. Mostly. It's more manageable right now.

N started appearing in my dreams quite immediately. The night after we spoke I dreamed we were in some place together, a city or town, one of those places in my dreamscape that wasn't particularly intense – a low intensity place, slightly positive. And we were just being together – he asked me how I feel about kids and I tried to explain. Also we were figuring out libido issues and he said he's not really into sex, more about cuddling, and I was thinking to myself if I'd be able to bear that; I sat on his lap and he put his arms around me and I felt him throb just once very lightly.

One or two nights before then only our minds met in my dream, like clouds; he said I was showing him not to overthink so much and I said something like, he's teaching me to think things through more.

~

First moment of any relief, and it's not complete, but it's something. I could see him so clearly in my mind. It was surreal. Being in my body after was surreal. I passed my building earlier today and felt dissociated from it, as if it were a stranger's. I'm biding my time here. In the back of my mind, a great stream materializes – we're being recruited for the war that I have often glimpsed.

– spoke too soon, no relief. I think this may be medically bad.

~

I feel like only by being incurably horny, horny with no possible resolution in an infinite moment, have I been propelled into a state where I can begin to understand the genius, the true symbolism, inside Mista Thug Isolation. Not all art – most art – doesn't contain anything like this, anything encoded so deeply it can only be understood in dream logic.

Voyeurs in the other realm – skating in the other realm, through the portals of these songs. I was imagining dressing up as the freak outside the milk sto' for Halloween and just hanging out outside entrances, looking haggard with braids, thick runny lack eyeliner, bottles of milk – imagined it in that cartoon realm, that other realm where the absurdity makes perfect sense (there's no such thing as a “milk store” here – but every door I stand outside will become that of the milk store). People harassed her, making derogatory comments – what does the freak say? But she just raises her eyebrows and looks at the them, a mysterious expression on her silent face... Mona Lisa Overdrive.

What does Mona Lisa Overdrive even mean? Nonsensical phrase. Then I saw this silent, mysterious woman who just stands there, a presence in his nightmarish world. That's when I started to see how the symbolism was connected – you have to connect two seemingly disparate things to form one symbol. That's why it's the space in LUM's musical world, that sense of being in an echo chamber, an emptiness that holds all these beautiful sounds and melodies and absurd ravings that just pass through, that I think is the real message of profound, incurable isolation.

I couldn't tap into Bladee, with my feelings, my being state, until I was very morally exhausted and driving around backroads – until I was drained, in other words. That's when I felt Eversince, when I got the vibe.

With Letov and Yanka, it's good music still, but you'd have to be in the time and place to tap into it, to understand the meaning. I suspect.

Stephen Hillenburg was someone who seemed to easily and flawlessly translate an absurd world of characters who lived with him into our world, into Spongebob.

It was maybe a week ago that, when I stayed up at night, I felt like I was accessing the realm of angels, could see the cosmic indigo-purple sphere, feel the calm of this realm above libido. As payment, reward, for my love being thwarted.

(only by writing these things out can I get rid of feeling anxious and horny).

It was because I was so on edge, so depressed, so strained, about this connection, and so enthralled,so deep in fantasy, I listened to Ghost Hands, and I listened to it over and over and over... and it healed my depression. It transported me up there. I tapped into its wavelength. That's what Bladee does – he channels a higher wavelength. He's changed the way people perceive music [10/6/24 I don't know about this anymore – he's just part of the AG Cook wave/social engineering. I think you can just heal by listening to Bach. Toccata in D minor is genius, antidote]. Before, I couldn't “get” him. It wasn't “music”. Now I can listen to it. When I was in it, that's when I was in the realm of angels, with them, and that's where I'll be if/when I get no earthly reward. 

Funnily enough, I only have these beautiful, erotic, passionate trysts in my psyche, with my dark perfect lover, and never physically. It's not merely fantasy – because I'm not seeking it out; I am responding to some impetus within. My outer life looks like nothing. N and I talked about this a little – the impossibility of telling people about our lives.

Listening to LUM, and then hearing Lady Gaga at the coffee shop – I couldn't stomach. Realizations/shifted perspective I had with regard to music and what resonates in the world. Different types of music, different levels/frequencies (vertical world).

Qualitatively different musical types.

Then there is mood vs pleasure music. Mood is a space, atmosphere, and I think the highest form that most musicians get to. La Femme get to this. So does Cold Cave. And then there is pleasure music. I think La Femme take this to its height – beauty. So does Гребенщиков with Мается.

But it is the level, the frequency, we operate on. I think how we “work” with frequencies determines our type – for instance Letov tapped into the wavelength of his culture at the time, and “shook them up”, perhaps layered, combined them with others, to disturb them, to destroy. He created new sounds, never before – or since – heard. Piercing, “futuristic” sounds.

LUM does this too, with the way he has mashed up 90s and 2000s alt rock. It was the first thing I noticed, listening to Headboard – I couldn't separate any specific influence, they were so finely blended, down into a beautiful paste.

(I can't really be a prisoner of my fantasy – it is founded on the utmost self-flattery, where I am worshipped for my genius and uniqueness [10/26/24 if only you know what emptiness and loss indulging in this fantasy was in place of. You wouldn't blame yourself for this placation, for you have been given nothing and had everything taken away. I cannot blame ordinary people for their delusions – without delusions most would kill themselves or lose their minds, myself included] like no one else by someone just like me (however, I am able to feel this for someone, if only until they don't reciprocate), and we both share a kind of autistic, naive purity, a spirit of rebellion and “world heart.” Then I project this onto someone like N, who in reality may be coming from left field, may be quirkier.

The reason things like Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift get easily popular is because they tap into a predominant wavelength, an “average”. This also explains different “realms”, different worlds, and there not being one world, one world map. Territories on the context field. People like Letov change perceptions by changing the vibes. But also they tap into something already there. They see what's happening on the context field.

I think if I got an idea across to the public through my writing I would feel relief. Like a burden has been removed from me. Taken off of me.

The way to hear these different musical qualities – to listen with my whole being at once. Music has been my path for understanding, orienting myself in this life. I felt that I became “set” by realizing that my understanding is through music, & this concept of vertical world, context field. That same night I was listening to Ghost Hands, I was at the peak of ideas, spurred on by my interaction with N, its height. (Now, I feel relief. After explaining all this, like I've had to for days.). And I felt, with understanding Bladee and what he was doing, like I'd finally caught up to 2023, to the present time. Via music. Via help from N and Y. It was then, also, that my aesthetic had, I believe, become something that also fits this moment. My old drawings seemed, to me, to be nowhere, irrelevant. Good, perhaps, evocative, but not integrated into anything larger. Not aesthetic. I have had to let go of the idea that art has to be pretty, or drawing. Art can be taking photos with your phone and cropping them. Much more important are the mediums – what does a pen mean these days? But the phone, the laptop, projectors... these are things we deal with. A pen could mean something; it depends how it's used. This aesthetic has been developing for me for a while – low res, multiple layers of distortion using simple, primitive tools anyone has. Blur. Ambiance. I felt like my aesthetic has finally “set”, in real-time, into the real moment. And N helped kind of, pointing to vaporwave. And it makes sense, in spirit, that I'd align with that concept.

It's hard to admit but I guess he's just not that interested or has something else going on, and I'm so lonely, so desperate, I really latched on and created magic for myself. It gets more dangerous this way the farther you go. Romantic fulfillment is not to be mine. Nor relief, but via one way, getting my things out more and more, without break. I can barely work at my day job, anyway. I so search for that spirit in another. But I'm the only one who has it; it's mine to convey.

~

There is one more point to make, about understanding, or glimpsing, reality holistically. I think it can only be done so in the space between stories/worlds/people.

I know my vast world is so small, among all of them.

~

We all want who will be our ruin. We want to be the one who gets to love, to pine.

~

The night when we talked on the phone, as I was leaving, writing down all the thoughts I'd had about MM, about him and I being like one complementary unit, how the “average person”, the ordinary person, is who the world is made for, who the play is all for, I got up to leave and thanked the man at the table next to mine, who'd offered earlier to buy me a drink.

He was with two women and was just an ordinary man, I saw, but he got so excited by my sitting there writing and that was why he'd offered to buy me a drink. Then he told me about how he'd used to write, I think for a dissertation, or a manual for work. It seemed to me that he was just very excited to encounter someone who shared his passion/interest/venue into creative work.

In my altered state then I saw something: I saw a direct interaction between a normal person and reality. I saw how a normal, ordinary person would have a direct connection to forming reality. I saw us touching through the levels, directly, no intermediaries. He of course had no idea what I was writing. But his passion compelled him to touch this thing, and he bought me a drink, and who knows what such small things can alter. My point is that the ordinary person, who all this play is for, can affect it also, can touch it directly. I glimpsed, for the first time, the structure of a holistic reality – not just my subjective worldview (which is my whole reality and sole purpose and “is not tethered to earth”), but my worldview among many other such worldviews, and among the actual world, the normal world, this man happily inhabits (let's assume this). This structure of reality can only be found between these connections.

Last thing: listening more w/ my body, less with my mind, I perceived the music of Cerberus Shoal to also have a deep symbolism, but much more complicated, wordless; I could not hope to understand. That world, and going deeper into it, is also infinite. And is not of the “ordinary world”.

 

April 5, 2023

Life is so beautiful, I felt the world going in whole through my heart. It is going through all levels at once (the way I felt that N has permeated me by being physically a normal man, a projection of my lover, in my inner world, the one who controls the projector, and seamlessly in my dreams at night.

He is the one who controls the projector. My mind is the screen. Onto the screen of my mind he projects the image and living being of the very lover I have so often seen and been waiting for, searching for, who wanders the landscapes of my visions and dreams, who is always seeking a way to manifest in the physical world, to come out, in glimpses, through music, through scenes, through the empty space only when I make a connection between multiple things happening in my surrounding vicinity (for he is just like me) in brewed long moments. He is a normal man living a normal life, in the normal world, not in my online fantasy world, where he is recognized by others. He is capable of projecting many things for many different people).

I know I'm not just living in fantasy (I'm living in Beauty) because of the way it feels like the world is with me and moving through me. I am in the right place at the right time, sitting, literally, in a powerful spot, which is, surprise surprise, right in town. In fact it is at the top of a small hill, in the area between the haunted-yet-yuppie, frozen in its civil war mist in the shadow of a cemetery in the middle of town flatland, and the truly haunted, dilapidated, multi-generational old dying American Main St. town. It's all Main St. I'd felt this town was on the convergence of spheres – yuppie, haunted/mystical, old town/redneck/hick – and I feel this still. It's the yuppie influence that makes it bearable for someone like me (young, not “fully” American) to live there.

[10/26/24 mystical and haunted is just the flavor of relics of technology we no longer have or know; redneck and hick are just people who have been made to forget their history]

Where I am is truly the exact convergence of lines, spiritual lines. This exact house. Walking up here I paused at the train tracks, inspired to snap some photos. By train tracks is near a more powerful area. There are little corners and windows of views right there that I want to capture, and I feel excited every time I step over them, approach them.

You don' want to do activities in haunted areas – best is moderately positive areas, where there is some buildup of high light energy – connected to the geography. So, for instance, a hill or boulder might be one element – but it's more than that.

The harbor – harbors generally – are also powerful.

This seems like an entire lost science, I think I mentioned something to N about this when I tried, poorly, to explain the premise of Мёртвый Мир.

Activity can take place effectively in moderately high + or – space, but the type of activity, or the kind of force it would be, would either correspond or be antithetical to polarity (what is + and -? I'm not yet sure). Here it feels a freer spot – so maybe it's more neutral?

The “hill” should be among a sea of slightly positive/neutral terrain or, more effectively, slightly + and -: bumpy, w/ a little variety.

True neutral is probably somewhat unbearable, for it's so flat, it might be enraging – maybe nothing can happen there, maybe it's hard to be in a place of such little variety (why? Maybe I'm wrong. Anyway I think these fluctuations aren't really perceived by us as much as reacted to).

Walking home from taking photos after work, I perceived, or hit upon, this vision of multiple oceans, in decreasing turbulence. Up at the top are vast waves, nothing is stable, mammoth forces of energy colliding and moving. Maybe, then, the next level is concepts, the level after that (of warriors, where I may actually belong according to Quenta) the level of images and archetypes , then the level of foxes, which is, what? The guardianship of the material world from all these forces, the gatekeeping of what gets into our “normal” world, the structures, concepts, rules, coded terms of our shared reality (scared of strong forces that might break the whole thing), and finally onto our level, ordinary life, where the sea is mostly static and stable and symbols find their stability, last a long time – here we have fences and flags, tchochkis and other relics of the American dream, political opinions, playgrounds, (churches and institutions would be a level above, and must be architected accordingly to carry authority).

~

Tress lands/MM

• they require accounts, and live in their accounts

• Tress makes connections in New Iran, while looking for clues to get to the Destroyer

• it starts with her seeking a lover (maybe the Destroyer?) whom she sees in shadows sometimes; she encountered him through Destroyer's music perhaps

• she also stumbles in to “sacred” places by trespassing (though this is a “happy coincidence”). It's her “key” (?)

• connect terrains w/ the projector/cameraman/interloper, she wants who the interloper really is & understands her predicament, the terrain inside her, w/ its rules, given from the Destroyer, and stops looking for her fantasy lover.

• The cameraman has a normal life – maybe a wife and family, or a girlfriend

*** MM ***

To find where the Destroyer struck the Earth's core, she must learn new ways of seeing terrain to begin to map it out – tells other people about it.

It's really Tress 'trespassing', infiltrating these places and weaving the people in it, the places, into her 'story', and they get roped in, play their part, and don't fully understand what's happening; then she just leaves. But things result in the “real world” as a result. Marriage, for instance.

Memory of bells of war ← Tress' backstory & why she is a loser, what her influences have been →

1/1/2020– world silence → rip in the screen/covid → context creators (Tress meets Interloper – right place right time) → people fall through the crevasse, realizations about Destroyer & his myth → nowhere, emptiness → New Iran, House @ crossroads, new people → terrains/context field memories, search for Interloper again, see his shadow, cross the land bridge (new ways of seeing terrain) (1)→ send a lover into his own separate realm (the sky magician); (2)→ finds central Asia, understands the poetry secret, saves Destroyer another key moment → goes quiet, makes art, somehow meets Interloper again; he is doing similar research, similar tastes → he projects onto her screen, she realizes he's the projector operator & her world and love are inside → from here Tress can see the vastness of reality and principles have been elucidated → she tells Interloper of context field, vertical world, dreams

MM

• Omphalos – the moment over the crevasse/covid world breaking (2021) before New Iran, when old world & those who can't pass over the crevasse fall in, won't move on w/ the restructuring.

• The initial feeling is of something being wrong, of receiving these strange glimpses that break apart your life when you follow them (but you can't not follow them. And they always seem to lead to your ruin).

• The layers of ocean. On the ground, in the hard world, the sea is calm and artifacts ripple gently under consistent warm lights. They are mostly stable on this level – flags and fences, rippling in light, rippling earth, consistent beliefs – it's this level that Tress perceives as broken, sees a crevasse in the normal ordinary world that most cannot perceive. They cannot perceive, they will simply be wiped.

  • UNDECODABLE LIGHT SOURCE

• “soft worlds” connect to each other by recognizing & responding to symbolism, a Tress does w/ the Destroyer. They only connect in the symbolic world. To connect to the “ground”, Tress needs the Interloper, in order to be connected to the rest of reality, to see her place in it, to understand Reality isn't in her little world – that, rather, her world is in her and that it somehow does affect reality.

Concentrations of power:

• acute corners

• relationship between power centers – direct lines

• cliffs/hillsides surrounded by stone walls, amphitheatre style

• water/land

• cemeteries

• lines that trace relationships

• differently shaped rooms

• sloping hillsides into valleys

• places that are energetically unoccupied & meet auspicious criteria

It's like, if I were to dress up as freak outside the milk store, my understanding of it, and LUM somehow saw that, saw an understanding of his vision, the world he inhabits, validated in the actual physical world, that might be terrifying... but it's also how these lonely worlds connect to each other. → This is what happens with Tress & Destroyer. She connects to his symbolism or “saves his life” in her own world [11/13/24 really it is he who gives her a glimpse of reality, which she must then piece together for herself].

~

Rises and dips are for different activities. Hilltops for the house on the hill, concentration of power – hole/valley surrounded by stone walls for performances, sex energy?

~

One thing N did for me was help me to embrace going into my bullshit, getting high off my own supply (nothing happens otherwise). It's liberating. Through not resisting inhabiting my world, making it, on the other hand, larger and intertwined with physical reality. I feel I'm starting to become more aware of how vast reality really is, and how small my portion, my story, my world.

I feel like N, first and foremost with his name being N, second with us not having met physically, is a mirage that was made for my world, or fits perfectly into my world, but at the same time he exists perfectly normally in the real physical world, without me or being in my mirage. But I, I exist fully in my mirage, not outside it.

*Tress connects with the Destroyer's world.

 

April 7, 2023

Another day at the coffee shop.

There's a gathering of energy here. People are gathering here. I'm at home here, sitting on the balcony, watching from the hilltop. People on laptops, like me. Similar energy. The emptiness helps. Emptiness from people, that is.

I feel like I am getting new eyes. There is no “normal” mind. Is it “normal” for someone in the old country, in a village, to “see” how a village should be laid out for places of power, concentrations of energy? No. People live on very flat land all the time, too. People live wherever they can survive. The way I see it, this power-centers, etc., perception, isn't “normal”, isn't default. What is default human perception? There is none. What about the retarded, the village idiots? The point is, if you look for “normal” or “standard”, you won't find it, because of the fact that we live on many levels at once.

A holistic reality is revealed in the connections between discrete mini-realities. It's beautiful and relieving to see this. I've lost the glimpse I had by now. These discrete realities (people for instance) inform the possible connections of which they can be a part. Two “nonsleepers” can connect through understanding and responding to each other's symbolism – the fact is there has to be symbolism in a work in the first place. A land of symbols, which they must develop, become ever vaster. I feel, at least for now, like I can look around and “see” this framework of energy levels in objects, places, plants, roads, the landscape. It happened a little yesterday; after “work” I got a sudden glimpse into “this level”, that is, on this level, where we all are, things make their way through the levels (decreasing turbulence) and “settle” here in a more or less stale, calm, fluctuating static – lightly fluctuating.

Again yesterday while walking home from taking photos, I saw this “calm ocean” in a series of oceans when I looked at a free-standing section of a white picket fence in a yard, with an American flag in it. That's where it belonged. Many yards here are full of knick-knacks and flowerpots and flowerbeds. Then I saw a rosebush nearby, and it was like looking into a portal through multiple realms – the rose was here, with the white picket fence, but not only here: my eyes went through the petals, to some... I don't know to what. I remembered reading in Гусев's book that, speaking of the 4^th level, if one has a tree as one of their beasts, it only opens fully on the first level. I was already in quite a strange, psychedelic state since waking up low and yearning for attention from N (who'd disappeared), lamenting romance gone, then left my house for the cafe and proceeded to write all day about these theories; from the morning the seeds were there. I took some of what I think are my best photos, even though they're of completely ordinary things.

I think I captured that state, and whatever was in the air yesterday. I need to do low-res experiments on them today, project them and retake the photos, with various ambient light sources around the room.

One tree in particular looked wild, like it was dancing, and I got a photo of it that, with the way the light is hitting it, makes it look like it's on fire, or is a fire, dancing. The house it's next to also looked powerful. Its energy jumped out at me. A dark, strong, almost demonic energy coming from a rather stately, red brick house on Main St. I took a photo of it that, for a photo of a house, should not be so powerful, I think. There's a shadow streaking across it like lightning, and it's slightly blurry. Not every tree had that energy – in fact only that one did. But all of flora in general was more vibrant – it felt alive, every furled and unfurled leaf a portal through multiple realms. I felt as if I was among a wild jungle, walking through a wilderness. There were parts in the forest (since we do live in one), parts of the greenery, that looked wild, that danced, that formed beautiful singing scenes of heightened power (such is the interconnectedness of plant life).

Today I don't see this. And yesterday I stopped seeing it after completing my photographic mission in full, satisfying the impulse. I'll remember it, but today the trees sway palely, mutedly, saying nothing.

~

With these paragraphs below I've finished writing the theory, the impressions that have jammed up my mind. Now I am free to just live.

 

April 9, 2023

Today it feels like, I got the system out of me. I went through the whole ordeal, the orientation, the setting of bones, and it's now gone. I can finally be alive, I can just live (on all levels). The whole purpose was to be able to just live. Intensely. On all levels. Now... I need no lover. N served his purpose.

There is so much energy in the world. I was blind. Numb to. The trees are wilder than the houses. They scream louder. They never cease. They sway in the wind like stormfires, calling of another world.

Some houses have an ominous energy that radiates from them here. The blue one next to the fire-tree (the tree that feels old an powerful, has one big branch cut off, and looks like a dancing flame( has a “Oh Hello, Sunshine!” plaque hanging on its front door. And, behind that, it feels haunted.

The brick house next door feels haunted, too (though not as creepy). The bright orange house up the street off Main, on a hill, feels like it's looming ominously, as well. Am I the only human in this town? Am I truly living in a haunted place. Is this town stuck in a mist of the old and undead, lorded over in heaviness by the cemetery of the main juncture? Must I escape?

Up the hill is the coffee shop, and it feels like a welcome break. Down the hill, and further up the road, is -- and another settlement of people on a lower altitude. A house on a hill in the middle of two towns. Two towns frozen in place in the civil war mist of the north. Even when you get to the next state the vibe is different immediately. It ceases to be so haunted and spooky. It bears the trace of industrial midwestern hard life, of old Appalachia, of myth and forlorn, earthy history.

April 12, 2023

Every day wake up in the derangement. I might get fired soon. All I can do is daydream. One thing I forgot to say from the day before is that, there are all these fantasy worlds – there's my fantasy world with N or my shadow lover, the only one I'm concerned with, and, for example, W is now a player in a different realm, a different corner of reality.

But lights, pieces, bits come down from each reality, and they become I think generalized, or maybe only certain, specific symbols (like flags) make it down. Our normal world is where all of these pieces from different realities meld, become stable and sit there shimmering. Our everyday reality is a blend of all of these fantasy realities – songs on the radio that create the ambiance of a time, the 90s for instance, or 2012 cloud rap.

~

I'm trapped in the fantasy.

I see the fantasy so vividly now. We are in that dark room, that has a faint blue glow now. And slowly, a lamp will come on, a flame will be lit on a candle, and the innards of the room – the room where we always are, will appear, the teahouse.

When you find the right place, the world adjusts itself around it. The map is malleable. It becomes a geographical center – lines start to converge around it.

 

[MM]

Perhaps, Tress' search for where to build the house at the crossroads doesn't lead her anywhere, either she fails to find it or finds a power spot and it eventually breaks down. But when she meets the Interloper, he has a space – she, then, also sees how this house looks clearly, and when they find a cavernous room on his property, she knows it's the right place. It's rather far north, in the middle of nowhere, not really in a “powerspot” - but the world shifts around them – lines in the context field key in to coalesce there, they alter the context field, and the map changes. That's the last secret – the secret of how the map is created, people's relationship to terrain: some are able to bend the context field. First come the people & their mystical interactions – then they warp the field – atop the field sit terrains, which are also people, little worlds in the context field, most often floating.

(It's when she finds the Destroyer's spot that she also learns the truth about the payment, the horrors they free, and the fact that most people by this time, the time of the cleaving, have lost their humanity – they are no longer people).

~

I'm not afraid. Got to give your life for something.

I feel like N is the nonsleeper, perhaps. He's a flurry of endless activity, at least lately. I think if he didn't get himself into that state, we might not have been able to meet.

Also, he thinks about fiction and characters in a similar way. I feel like he lives inside some sort of spy fiction – he says things and then I make them into this fantasy world, for they are perfect for it and others cannot access. I am going to pay for this derangement.

It must be that when he's high we can talk like this. But I saw all his characters, the ease with which he separates all his characters and realms. "N" is purely a mask. For a moment I glimpsed that even the writing is performance art, and “N”, its angry messenger for something so serious and dry which would destroy ideas/conceptions as a very not-dry act. Something very dry, behind which is this joker, this comical, very not-dry character, and not an actual intellectual (as he is a great satirist), and also frequently thinks about people's performances – commented on LUM's rapper persona, and said Letov might have been the first ever man to go joker mode: всё идёт по плану ends with these discordant strings and maniacal laughter after Letov wakes up in the middle of the night and realizes that everything is going according to plan.

On the phone I told him I thought LUM might be the greatest living performer.

N: “right!?”), behind which is a void, a nothing, space unconnected to the real N. Even in my mind, he is “N” who has been there since I wrote a book with that main character. And now, we talk in this strange interaction. And I feel as if most people look at me and don't know what they're looking at (as W said – but even he, he doesn't understand that my fantasies are real. That's a dangerous state to indulge in, and I fear I'm too close to not being adequate, to losing my job, by getting so high, so excited when someone can really see me, that I start saying and doing odd, offputting things. The sexual energy gets where it shouldn't.

I don't need to “come down”; I need to keep working on my stuff, hoping he will still want to talk to me, need to.

I put these pieces of him together into one whole that may not even be real. I feel like, for N, I was this mirage behind the glass. Even from our very first exchanges, I gave answers or comments like some kind of lost hologram, like that screen AI from The Time Machine. 

But now he has seen me, and I've been able to “act”, to play a fiction with him. To me, it's as if we both speak from our fictions to each other. I no longer feel so behind a glass.

~

(a vast reality full of lost or discarnate holograms, unused nonsleeper worlds, unaccessed worlds, fantasies – this could be what Tress finds in the context field)

 

April 15, 2023

Every time it gets closer to being real with N I feel emptied, and disillusioned, and then scared, full of fears that he won't be enough or isn't who I think he is. 

Even though I said I was going to sleep, I stayed up until 5AM creating an account and image/aesthetic for Мёртвый Мир. I think I'm ready to write that and thereby expose (and destroy) the tress account. 

There's an image I drew of Trespasser and the Interloper when I first conceived it: I can't draw a better image: Trespasser is surrounded by the context field in concentric circles as she is about to open a door (trespass) with a window in it and a handle in the shape of a spiral. She blends into the scenery, is just an outline, faceless. A dark figure stands with his back to her next to her (the Interloper), a dark zigzagging streak behind him as it, and he, totally cut through the context field and her world. But, when I hit autobalance in paint.net, all the writing on the opposite page shone through, and it was so angled that it lined up with the motions of each character and of the context lines. And it looks... it fell into place, completely. The writing under the context field is like an endless stream of illegible but neat words, forever undecipherable...  It looks alive in the world and that's also how this idea feels to me, and how this “part” of me feels, the part that was behind the glass. Of course, I am in the real world, having coffee, writing, wanting N and I to just do our projects, put them behind us, and have a normal life together talking about media, reality, and the world, etc etc.

 

April 16, 2023

Unable to hold in my feelings any longer, I told N that if we were within driving distance of each other I'd have tried to meet up with him by now yesterday. Then I felt/modeled the feeling of failure and rejection that I felt after messaging H w/ my feelings; it took over... the wait... but he said he was down to meet up in any case. So... it might really happen. I feel calm. Trying to keep expectations 0,but also have entertained elaborate fantasies of what happens when we meet. Being calm, the superfluous falls away. My reactions at the drop of a hat are [illegible]. It feels like we're almost together.

I think the only way it can work is if he is in my inner world, and N is. He has permeated me completely, at least for now – he's there in the real world and he's there in my story.

~

Interloper (like N) temporarily flits in & out of my world; therefore Tress can never truly know him – when he goes into the Nowhere, he goes somewhere she cannot conceptualize or see or touch, another realm. He rips through the context field. He is the shadow. It'd be like Kuzya working with Letov and then, separately, working with another “nonsleeper”, in, say, ship building or some maritime realm. As an example.

 

April 17, 2023

We are going to meet soon. The rollercoaster of feelings would get too tired and tiresome to describe.

Three nights ago I went on one of the best walks I've ever been on. From my house past to almost where the commercial shopping center begins. On this stretch it feels like no man's land. There are many fields, old single colonial style brick houses right on Main St., old faded barns... lights and candles in the windows of brick walls and thin white pillars, and the first fireflies came out on the fields one by one until there were a dozen or so, and then, right before it got dark, the most of them, a dozen, framing a distant deer and its foal in the back of somebody's yard, staring at me walking past. I listened to сто лет одиночество all the way through and further deepened or changed how I understand music, or through music.

There is some music that has nothing inside it, that's pure emotion. When I really listen to Taylor Swift's music, this is what I hear. It's worse than empty; it's a psyop. I would ban it from public life if I could. Same with Lady Gaga. Of course, it literally is a psyop (N would likely have the facts on this) – there's a reason they're popular, and played. It's harmful to the psyche to take in something this empty and cheap in the form of music. On the surface, to the untrained ear (as ours are), it sounds perhaps pleasant, or at least harmless. But music is so powerful that it should never be meaningless. Shitty, “whatever”, blah music is not neutral – music can never be neutral as in has no effect because its very essence is to amplify vibes, to concentrate, organize, weaponize them. Its essence is more than that, but I can't yet say. I'd need to spend considerable time doing what N does – researching.

Neutral music is, I suspect, a powerful creation, a vibe clearing. Maybe that's what Bladee is: a neutralizer, a clearer, cleanser. “Loss and gain is the same.” N said it sounded like nothing. [12/22/24 neutral music is Bach, I suspect].

Then there is something like Ours and Jimmy Gnecco, which seems a little stupid, or emotional, the pure, raw power alone of someone's voice, like Adele, which doesn't appeal to me (Letov also has this, but his voice is not simply one-note power – it's an instrument). Ours' first album, however, has life in it, a spark – it has little clear bits of many musical influences from many genres, and it has a good energy, feels alive. The 2007 album, however, is very formulaic and tired.

La Femme, I think I've said, takes ambiance to its height. Their music can be used to create an ambiance, to fit into a place, to make a party.

But Letov's music, LUM's music, I think also Duke Ellingon, though I only started listening – these are textbooks. Сто лет одиночество - I understood, on this walk, what my dad had said about his music: every note, every sound, means something, both within itself and – now mostly lost – within the world, time, place, it was made. I feel like I can listen to it a dozen times and only begin to understand what's in it.

...Is all of this even real? Is this way of seeing even real?

There was a different way of perception on this walk. The music in my ears and the flattened-into-one-plane visuals of all around me, perceiving both together, two selves – and moving with my body, feeling my body in every motion, through the world, feeling the world pass through my whole self, feeling the wind pass through, pleasant, memories of a shore breeze, perhaps clashing with drier Appalachian air.

 

 April 20, 2023

It's so involuted now. Have I misread? Is he obsessed with another? There was a very, very clear favorite. And now that he has me, I'm proving to be a disappointment to him, to not live up to his ideals, to send him brooding? So it feels, for whatever reason. A few days ago he sent me the link to a song, and it revealed... a key.

The moment I saw where it came from it just went through me.

I can't express it, how much I want him – I could show him the tress account, but that's part of a performance, and I'm racing against the clock, to write Мёртвый Мир. I have so many ideas and so much energy for them but it feels like they depend on him. If he just goes away (which is always my fear, that he'll become bored or keep looking). I feel laser focused on him like he is always sitting across from me or next to me. I don't even know what he looks like. He understands everything. But he is a bit gloomy and brooding. Hating is a heavy burden, but somebody must. So is remembering.

Even all previous crushes are no longer holding weight – they flare up for a second, like R's cool photo that so matched the atmosphere of the dream I had about him once. Then today his photos felt empty.

I know N listened to some of my music, and it seems maybe sent it off to some other people. But hasn't commented. I won't ask. Some of it is deranged and most of it is poorly mixed. He may not buy into the fantasy that on Lover I was singing about him, or someone like him. He may not step into the myth.

~

I learned his full name and I feel like my stomach dropped out of me. The sound of it is so perfect. I can't even react further. It's so right. It's like the name I should have given my main character, which always felt a bit off.

I feel like his name lives inside me. I have the brain tingles.

I had to seek the whole ocean, looking for the right sound.

I live inside his name like in a coccoon.

~

I looked him up online and... it is exactly fitting how he'd be able to project the image of the very symbol in my mind to me. Spiritually, he doesn't appear so dark (only I see it, in my fantasies, what he fantasizes he is (dark wizard)) – he appears how he sounded: enthusiastic, upbeat, a bit bro-y. But he has a perfect figure, a little bit awkward looking (not classically handsome).

I don't know if we'll be married. But we'll be something for each other. I don't know if I can stop searching for symbols. I feel that's just what he'll propel me to do. Maybe he'd be better with a taller, more normal girl. Maybe I'd be at home with a crazy artist. I'm likely too weird for him... once again.

We've had similar trajectories – but it seems it didn't work out for either of us. I think my influence must be helpful to him, as a force that helps him further go “that way”; against, not in professional, open himself to creative work. Our relationship depends mostly upon him and what he does. But I fear he's pulling away, afraid, keeping a barrier up... like they all do. I'm too much.

You have to simply let fantasies, life, pass through you. But, a structure needs to be in place for this to happen – for me it's almost there. A filter needs to be organized, fleshed out, so that things pass through seamlessly. Otherwise they get stuck and garbled.

 

 April 22, 2023

MM

First Arc; context creators – frequency surfers

• Tress gets her name by finding these various places, spaces that physically serve as nodes (?) by trespassing

• many elements floating in Tress' world come together

  • Destroyer Legend

    • Interloper knows it too

  • World Silence – when she thinks about it she generates some images & posts them – Interloper comments

  • Bells of War

  • old images from “future” - dream account w/ paintings (?) @behind-a-glass-dream, @behindaglassdream

  • Chaos after world silence – world breaks into pieces (don't mention the physical cause, or covid), multiple maps

  • Tress' history of loneliness & glimpses of her lover, lives w/ her silent lover, her shadow

  • talking to interloper, sees signs of him in various places she hangs out in (like the abandoned church or off hours church office)

  • thinks she meets him through a man there – he says something that answers that the Interloper was saying on the forum

  • finally Interloper bursts forth out of the nowhere, shows her the context field & context creators, the nowhere

  • she realizes herself as territory, connects it, & broken territories, w/ Destroyer's Legend, the breaking world, her floating, on the context field, old discarded land unhooked from the world (this explains her true predicament, why she is isolated – Destroyer unpeeled her territory (Interloper showed her this) and subsequently she joins them, the frequency surfers.

  • She maps her visions/dreams into the paradigm of vertical world

  • they attempt to codify vertical world - & buy in through broadcasting (?), a collective – Interloper masks his voice then disappears after most people can't hear

  • Tress comes upon the crevasse (this will be important later)

  • They broadcast vertical world, some people understand – but they realize most people can't hear

  • Tress, Interloper, everyone else they talk to, very few people, make it over the crevasse ripping through the context field

  • crevasse is identified as a danger, rip in the screen (this was something Tress has vaguely felt even around the World Silence) that is inevitable as “lands” pass through it – there is no more main one, just islands

  • they “watch” what remains of the “main”land fall into the crevasse, and all they know on it don't make it into the future.

  • after this, Interloper vanishes, Tress loses direct access to context field – she is back in her territory, she, a discarnate, has landed somewhere: New Iran.

  • In the crevasse she unintentionally, unknowingly, saves the Destroyer

***

Second Arc: People and the Land

• Tress seeks to build a web, find other discarnates from Destroyer

• needs home base

• begins now in New Iran – she is semi-integrated, living in vertical world

• principles of people & land uncovered, different territories & types she meets through others

• she is cut off from Interloper

• searches for the right place to build her house @ the crossroads – there she will begin her territory's integration, there will be love & victory

• meets some shadow people, a young man who gives her visions of the future (akin to S), & seems to find his presence elsewhere (online). In connecting the two she finds a third creature, a mirror of herself (he also has inner & outer account & their inner accounts speak – through this connection. She encounters him again, crossing the land bridge, experiencing love & being known, integrated into the world, outer & inner – of course this fades, now only a brief encounter w him

• Theory unravels behind her as she walks, like a processes stream of information

• memories of visions in which she meets her shadow lover before, and now she sees him, interacts w/ him more clearly than ever (they have been in the 'astral plane' basically).

• She does complete her mission of finding the Destroyer's core, where he struck the core, hoping it would reveal her place, her home – but it reveals the truth of the world, that the “force” of our civilization comes from the influence of the hole, which leads to where the crevasse led

• Destroyer's true reasons, sacrifice are revealed, as is the truth about civilization – humanity having become dependent on the hole, on misery, on all associated – self-perpetuating, even when, by natural law, the world, society, is ready to move on, to let go, to start over in ways.

• Also reveal Poetry as the mechanism for truth – endless stream of very densely coded information that Destroyer & some others can channel, capture

• context field changes & moves her back “home” - away from the hole (?); she thinks she'll be shown the correct place to build the house, but the house collapses – she cannot build it alone. She cannot control the context field.

***

Third Arc: Projector

• Tress lives alone again & after the destruction of her house (maybe it will have been like me & A) is a recluse once again [and completely alone]

• wandering in the nowhere, outside of everything, reflecting, gathering data, writing

• she is a ghost in a small [dying] town that appears to be haunted [because it has already been abandoned and left behind]

• +,- world-organization

• meets man again, finally, who seems to be her shadow lower turned reality. Slowly it becomes real. She encounters his shadow & starts “living” with him vividly (very lonely).

• When she finally meets him, she realizes he is the one projecting the image, he is not the shadow lover but is projecting him. [there are two interpretations here: the metaphysical/schizo, and the actual, jew/white war]. Through him she sees the subjectivity and self-containment of her world, including the Shadow Lover – a concept she realizes most if not all do not understand.

• His interests match w/ hers

• They build the house @ x-roads – the context field warps around them & makes it into a new center of power

• or they encounter, then part, and she, w/ self-knowledge, continues on. “It's the hardest thing – to just live.” [“there is only one thing left to say, until the war is over”/ “there is only one thing left to say; the rest won't matter while we're at war”]

• Tress keeps connecting to others' worlds, but goes on lonely

• This is also where we have the cry of the layers of the sea, the wildness of flora, how worlds trickle down, are grounded by people like Projector, & melded into the stable level that hovers & glimmers, their shared reality

• concentrations of power theory

 April 27, 2023

Feeling so terrible. I want to give up on it. I've found the most beautiful fantasies by pure cope, looking for them in the cracks. But I know, in my heart, I won't be the one for him no matter how hard I try. I've always known it.

I'm losing control online, posting about how I can't not look disheveled and how a baby shouldn't be exposed to the world its first year. Oh well. I can't hide my want. Men reply but I ignore. That wasn't my intention. I hope it's not perceived as punishment but maybe a little urgency isn't a bad thing. Of course, I have no idea what's going on with him. I'm just a twitter girl to him.

I think I'm about to lose my job.

April 28, 2023

What am I doing here, in this town, on a work laptop, alone, all day? But I have no other place to be. I had thought N would be that place. Too much of a burden on him. I still cannot accept that my fantasy cannot win, that the bright world I have glimpsed is a drug-addled illusion.