As the millennia roll by, the stars misalign with Earth bound trackers. Once off a cosmic track how to re-master a collaborative calibration with the nebulas nebula of celestial Derelict Theory Objects?

Tools of the STT ways have included time zone spells, chaos laden Thaumatropes, and tissue like tin ears. The fleshy minds of humanoids require gaudier acts , dis-masses of matter, and carefully plopped pieces.

As one such flashy dancer moves on from 360 or so moon cycles of a firm watch kept, its now high time to recognize an appliance in that hallow houses of Earth so touched by Min-entropic Migration that even the hairiest among you can blend in. Provenancelly forged in the year of MTV, AIDS, and STS-1, Eye of Orion discover by Manuel Izquierdo is a little know player in countering precession wobble.  For many millennials 30 years is older than dirt, and yes Elizabeth Jordan Carr will blow out 30 candles this December, yet the desire to set the spin straight has long deep roots

.

Deep being the optimal word here. As deep as it gets, deep into the Hollow Earth where the work is done to reset the North to the South in an not unrelated to Reconstructionist ways.  Not that we would mind.  When your up is suddenly down no paper cut proof skin will help you find your things. Temporary Autonomous Clones will move into your post-pirated IDs, while you wallow in an obsolucidity fueled pseudo Obliteratarium.

Eye of Orion is but one of the tools to set the stars straight.  And though PAM is far off from Giza as the bird flies, the astral path or center cut road will get you there faster than a shooting star. Many prominent star gazer have known this.  Why else would the placement of Eye of Orion be in lockstep with its constellation counterpart? And next to a Masonic temple…

Lord Quag and Weird-Fiction, Fresh for 2011! You Suckers!

Mental dust plasma is purported to have compromised audiospheric densities in this documentation of recent emanations from the (((WFT))) hypocentre.

A trivial concern. Representational value nonetheless persists: this psychedelic platform works “to basically vample the world,” according to an eye-witness.

In other words, to have kinesthetic sensibilities quiver, or to take action as subterfuge, or this and that response as vamplers come in from the cold and while robed renegades romp in their stead.

Vampler tales typically contain a [vampler] who represents either humanity as a worm hole or another inspid social structure. Supporting characters are personifications of asapien intelligence. An alignment of characters provides the audience with self-organizing intensities. Destroying of worlds, casting of shadows, feedback loops lingering in the nooks and crannies of this and other scotologically repellent productions

Geodes so pristine you can see your decrepit paws through them. Decrepit paws so decrepit you will want to wear gloves. Those are plentiful too, in this, the pleasure craft of obliteratariums. Pleasurable, is perhaps a misnomer.  It is situated in the negative space of network culture, a dark net but only if you feign disinterest in incandescence.

Regularly it is quite pleasant, tranquil claim some.  You can gaze at its noxious output even now.

However, I report tonight on sightings not to commend This Owl, per se, but to reveal from a perspective awry what many have pieced together by their own fleshy faculties. The most enchanting machine, droning onward and above, is matched by a parallel dementia owned by the mad science, not ficto-quizzical milieu (as if such factions were so acutely addressable!)

Eager to amass empathetic leads, this monstrosity of modern technology is not unlike the efforts of certain lab rats to “learn” scientists towards less sadistic experiments in times past:

Pardon if our type is coarse, we’ve been screaming for a decade, with an unexpected collimation. Not that you’ve heard, only so much denunciation one can take before the earlids close up tighter than a hipsters mind…er…err…error…racial slurs are computable but cultural slurs are fuzzy at best…. a primal yell can’t reveal that the NEA got us down. How in the hell do they expect to succeed with that pre-enlightenment mindset?  The work hard hardly works, yet the timetable feels right.  If only the creative chemistry wizards could pile up the copper and get the Led out in true Platonic Forms, yet thecan provide but a hope, false all be it, to a land where the colors could be licked to feel the glocal anesthesia, and forge a newly Earthian core. Hug the specters of disappointment, futility, blasphemy, for this will be on third mind’s eye as soon as the code is cracked.  Until then, we bellow.

It is a sad state of affairs, a “sign of the times,” that even our most intrepid augurs, divination rods, omens, oracles and forecasts were hushed. And so we offer, albeit with much reddening of our facial regions, a retrograde prophecy:  Amidst a dionysian videodrome populated by those attuned and within the Portland Metro Area of the local group, an unfettered unfurling of free-floating pixels.  Of beams brought on one’s own to inhabit in spectral pallor the parlor known as New American Art Union.

To humanoids fumbling for a suitable reference, the event-scene was whispered as something of a “photo booth.”  Emphasis, mine, then, on “john wilkes,” and the assassinations of character  inflicted in textbook vampler tradition—-sweet talking the vampling in waiting, then subjecting said vampling to the process of any old vampire’s scheme: vidsonic nutrients ripped out of context and left adrift—like derelict data bodies who then wander the walls of this and that establishment.

In ficto-quizzical quarters, vampladelia, or, vampling used to engender a psychedelic affect, is metaphorically speaking, a black box device, system or object which can be viewed solely in terms of its input, output and transfer characteristics without any knowledge of its internal workings.  Being liminal has also been– of late– the favored geo-political posture of interactors found lurking in the outer regions of mankind’s information ecosystems.

Call it interactive decay —-a process by which an unstable liminoid loses energy by emitting compromising articles. The emission is spontaneous, in that the decay is emergent even without collision with another article.  Post collision and collusion: The mental maw of many netizens is lockjawed: nibbling news where once there was gluttony, haphazardly patching up leaks with Pentagon Papers. Factoids protruding from these neutered networks much like parts of a corpse will protrude from an ill-made grave.

Related less to the sport of tennis, more to the implosion of time and space, and emergent in the interstice of summer and fall.  The predictions of impending “Summer Squash“  on 9 October, 2010—promise a veritable “Goldilock Planet’s” worth of sensory impacts, served up ‘just right’  by Weird Fiction and other humanoid cultural producers under the auspices of Grand Detour and under the costumes (literally) of Hollywood Vintage.  So say the superstitious call signs crafted in crop circles and spelling out as follows:

Nocturnalism, a euphismistic counter point to the term “Scotological Extremism,” is concerning the interference of day for night in a broad context, and defended or motivated by a claim that sleep/wake cycles would be better served with diminished rather than augmented lucidities. The call of nocturnalism arises with respect to deregulation of light in many forms.

At the ficto-quizzical level it raises questions of how scotological extremists should be treated when they are less than fully rational.