At once a meditation in the paranormal and a mediation moving alongside, beside, near, next to other phenomena, this is high dynamic range imagining. Informed by any number of vistas filtered by pollutants to produce a picturesque shift of values, this paramediation has its head in the clouds.

Atmospheric perspective relies on the interaction of spheres, evocation of tone poems, the persistence of gray areas and the notion, following an artist in the information environment, that “history is spatial” and that “there are going to be anachronisms in your neighborhood.”

This excursion will employ as its aide, a photo-document of a UFO in Mcminnville, Oregon circa 1950.

The Noosphere, a soft haziness modifying all other spheres, offers gradual gliding in the distance. Out of primordial depths, an extra-sensory meshwork with modules so intricate and numerous as to appear in shifting gradient, or moiré. Synchronicities as our witness, this grey goo scenario long ago consumed us, an ostensibly benevolent (or at least indifferent) form of auto-ecophagy: a gut-feeling or deja vu.

The Videosphere amplified this meandering miasma, attuning us tonally. Contrasting the fleeting memories of the mind by bringing out definition in rolling hills, sleeping giants to some, “timid giants” in Mcluhan’s terms. At any rate vision at a distance , no longer mere premoniton, but an offering of “a completely new video environment and image-exchange life-style, (Youngblood, Expanded Cinema) just over yonder.

The combined blogo/vlogospheric presence champions the familiar technological trappings of the networked landscape. Lines of flight/sight crisscrossing, darkened with proximity and displaced only by the suggestion of echo-phagy, seen/scene here as a mnemonic shelter of sorts, memory palace admidst weeds whilst still firmly roofed. One wonders if this is an epitome of server farming, a pastoral tone poem or idyll/idle/idol

In the sky: the cipher, the consequences of worlds colliding/colluding, or an impulsive break in the code, a sferic , whistler, sounding the alarm on so many techno-imaginaries.

An anachronism in the neighborhood while judgement is out to lunch and/or the pre-mature arrival of a future shadow: The Clogosphere.

As a bioluminescent flying organism myself, I have a particular penchant for “giving a hoot” about both the sordid lack of funds for varied tactical reality campaigns and the ambiguous light-forms concerned. Equally admonished by my attention is the rising wave of scotological extremists clamoring for an outlandish void of autonomous lucidity lest it interfere with the reception of sanctioned astronomies.  Of such autonomous activity, bioluminaries, including Will-o-the-Whisps, the Min Min Light,  The Hornet Spooklight and St. Elmo’s fire find themselves faced with bouts of structural unemployment and the increasing demands of dark sky desperados.

It would not be unprecedented for a total recall of such uppity astronomers’ dim ideals.  Outmoded it seems are the now languishing liberal attitudes towards anomalous phenomena of the air.  Where as once giddy onlookers found Martian canals, lost planets and phantom airships in most any instance of atmospheric light-leak, such elements are now implicated as latent light pollution if paid attention at all.  If aforementioned geo-hacks are the craze, then bring forth a battalion of stones painted with alien craft, of mountains adorned with undulating orbs of the unknown…that these direct action paintings might summon forth falls of bioluminescent dissent en masse, recharging uncertain imaginaries, pronto!

With many thanks to The Electromagnetic Archeologist for the spirit photographies, ’twas a successful engagement with the Polterzeitgeist Outreach Coordinator at the DIVA gallery in Eugene. After a spirited romp thru the Revenant Archives, ogling evidence of trad telepathies—of séances and clairvoyant horses—Irving Bleak then assisted me in establishing a link with today’s multi-modal phantom presence. Made manifest by way of all manner of real and imagined technologies, the residual energies of the Polterzeitgeist are loitering near Portland presently, invited to the area’s newest haunt next week!

This Tuesday, May 25th @ the Grand Detour, an exciting new space for “experiments in new media,” The Polterzeitgeist will again be conjured up! New channels, new modes of thought, this audio-visual exposé will unfold in conjunction with Deep Leap Microcinema’s The Internet is a Terrible Place to Live showcase!

Some informants attest to seeing it hurtle forth into the sky, out of the Hollow Earth, by way of the eruption of Mt. Eyjafjallajokull. Astronomologically aligned inquisitors counter: this thing is of a utterly cosmic crafting, and thus must certainly be meteoric in origins.

Although experts are seldom taken without a grain of salt, our colleague, the Electromagnetic Archeologist, is presently employing all manner of advanced guesswork and other strategies in researching the purpose, and/or antiquity, and/or visionary aspects of this most auspicious artifact.

While Portland, Earth reels back in splendorous springtime weather, it is elsewhere raining cats and dogs.  More mesmerizing still are the Fortean falls of objects within Wisconsin’s borders, and the near simultaneous ricochet of videographic shadow forms criss-crossing the networked cosmos.

Psychic bombardments plummet to Earth, authorities determine it is not space junk, this time.  More mesmerizing still is the looming prospect that these are derelict theory objects, ideas cooked up by the global brain some time ago, antecedent mental transmissions accumulating just outside of this Earth.  Likely cast forth into the noospheric yonder in the dawn of dial-up.  Returning now, the boomerang(e) of future influence upon the past.  As the saying goes, amongst the ballistically inclined, “be sure of your target–and what is beyond it.”

An Obliteratarium oscillates incessantly in recent weeks as denizens ficto-quizzical cavort with cohorts of Future Death towards a teleprescient spectacle to unfurl in the last throes of April.  Unfurling not so far from Foster Burger, Earth mind you!

Here in an approximation of a parallel glimpse, a multi-versatile configuration of possibilities aligned accordingly, is evidenced. Sanitized white suits can hardly contain the unsane pursuits bubbling beneath these most officious apparel for parallel worlds.

Planets collude, galactic interference becomes as reasonable grist for the mill as trees are conspiratorial colleagues in officiating a gesamtkunstwerk of connective fibrous disciplines.

To wit:

“The first step to a better process is to get comfortable with our postnatural relationship with Gaia. We’re all grown up now and need to take care of ourselves- we can no longer expect mother Earth to take care of us. On the contrary, we need to take care of her in her old age. No more free ride. This is the Anthropocene.

Next, we’ll need to make nature more human than ever and a central part of our daily lives. Cyborg planet doesn’t keep people out: it brings nature in. Machines are already keeping us in touch with each other. Now we need the clouds to twitter and the forests to join us on facebook (Earthbook?) and all of Earth streaming towards us on youtube (if Gore’s satellite ever flies). We’ll need a wired nature, as connected as we are. When nature can interact with all of us in our own languages, we’ll be better able to understand her and feel for her and help her. “

Read the whole feedfoward for future minds here.

That ready-at-hand swill of distraction, the glocal anesthesia that humanoidal eyes/ears consume so rabidly in the always-on information environment is vanished in this netherworld of alien appendages. Imprisoned, locked down in space one is amplified temporally,  freedom found in the fourth dimension, as the late, great Augusto Boal would argue.  Great swathes of epiphany, insight and illumination– sensory experience typically drowned out by the loud hum, and correctional facility of contemporary iDolatry.  Clamoring will commence undoutedly for meditation, focus, a sense of spiritual balance to achieve such clarity of mind.  To those ideas I say humbug! Unless there is some techno-appendage to amplify or amputate sense ratios, earbuds or eye-phones, muscle stimulants or hands-free devices, it DOES NOT COMPUTE in the Append Age!

Som(e)ambulant, gadget equipped denizens of this “small planet held in suspension in the electronic ether of our modern means of telecommunication,” —as that canny Paul Virilio has described such phantom limbo—find themselves locked down temporally, prisoner to the duration of devices, macro/micro, teleprescent/teleprescient.