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Every act of rebellion expresses a nostalgia for innocence and an appeal to the essence of being. (Albert Camus)
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    BWBW3- Because the world belongs to words pt.3 (A Sci-Fi Ultrashort)
    Previously on BWBW:

    "I know you know that there are no intrinsic problems as such, but only difficulties in maintaining a multilayered reality in immediacy but keep in mind that the essence of the warrior poet is a re-arrangement without thought, consciously keeping the direction of repetition but not allowing the order to emerge until an arbitrary point of conscious spontaneity, and it is this very spontaneity that I am looking for, it happens when the variation is exactly right, when the mutation is self similar to a degree that is high enough and far enough..

    An exact tipping point.."
    (from pt.2)


    ..There is rip in the composition of time, a crack in the fabric of space, which is where thoughts come through to make us consciously aware.

    Yes I realize that not sitting there with us and watching the universe tear itself apart simply because someone recites poetry, and chaotic poetry at that, you may feel all this is highly phantasmagoric, but let me assure you, happen it did.

    When our warrior poet, started reciting his poetry, at first we noticed increased blood flow into the reticular formation, but then something extraordinary happened, his frontal cortex or at least parts of it started shutting down of their own accord, as if disconnected from the overall mind event.
    We checked our machinery and monitors to see if we were not witnessing some unpredictable malfunction and found as expected that all was in order, so what on earth was going on?

    We slowly came to the realization that what we were seeing was language actuation in the process of transforming coherence, not unlike what the Shamans of old used to say about words that name spirits, you know, that which we thought was mambo-jumbo, that you have to be careful what names you use when addressing the matter of the world, because .. well basically because the correct wording calls for the force so named.

    The words he used were incomprehensible to us, but that did not change the fact that whilst hearing those words, those sounds, those strange syllables, my mind opened.
    Let me rephrase this, I am a scientist after all and you are a philosopher, so we cannot allow ourselves the nonsensical approach of just saying it as it is, can we now? So I will not say my mind opened, what I will do is simply relay the factuality of it all like this: I looked at the monitor and said ‘Oh! My god! Look’ (to no one in particular) and suddenly the monitor was showing not his brain, but my brain, literally my brain, and as I was watching, I saw the words coming out of my mouth becoming forces of explosion, a formatting palette of lines of reflexivity, snaking upon each other and reverting the effects of the brain I was seeing, changing the form of the brain itself, reformulating its shape, into something unknown.
    I was aware to the changes in my visual cortex, the colors were extending themselves into new horizons, morphing the shapes into sounds and the sounds into Euclidian factors, smoothly reinforcing the location of my conscious awareness into another place, first in the room itself and then..

    And then I was a disembodied observer, pleasantly floating above and in between lines of sensation, silently becoming part and parcel of a world reconfiguration, relentlessly moving into and out of coherency, reporting to no one in specific, simply because there were no specifics..
    It was as if the very meaning of the term comfort, or maybe comfortable, was taking life, seizing reality and reshaping it to fit its meaning, an epistemic force of nature, de-ontologizing the immediacy, deconstructing the consistency of matter and reinstating in its stead a subtler concatenation of causes, issuing forth a new reality.

    So there I was, and writing this to you now on my word processor seems almost incomprehensible, a dream really, but this was no dream, and though I wrote ‘there I was’, there was no I to speak of, not that I was not aware, that I was, it was something else, a total disintegration if you like, but upon reading these words you may think disintegration a negative, whilst the reality of it was that disintegration was gentle and all encompassing, a moment when suddenly the conceptual realization of a distributed self suddenly took flight into a new dimension of existential reality.

    So there I was, and there was no I to the there, there was and still is a flow of comforts, yes I know it doesn’t make much sense, what is a flow of comforts? Maybe a flow of pleasure will be a better description. But even that will not do the state I am trying to describe justice.. at any rate the sensation of the moment was that knowledge that is embedded in the proto conscious mind, and in that case it was the knowledge of what comfort is, was being released from its synthetic constraints and unleashed from its bonds of contextual phrasing, was depowering reality, and de-cohering one unto a larger coherence..
    At that particular moment I realized that though it is true that the human is far from being the center of reality we could, under certain conditions, redefine the authority of the moment by undoing the statement of being in time.

    I do not know what will happen when I will utter the word, maybe nothing, maybe everything, but I suspect that when the word ‘human’ will be pronounced something fundamental about the despotism of time, will be unleashed and re-cohere our future history..
    It is my sense perception extrapolated into a vision of timelessness that the ‘human’ will undo our innate violence and upturn the tables of destiny, I believe that this is what the warrior poet wanted us to capture by making himself available to our research.

    You may now understand why I am going to say the word and see where its leading me, irrespective to the possible consequences to my own mind and sanity, it is the bifurcations of inspiring moments like this that make us who we are, and maybe, just maybe, by uttering ‘human’ and meaning something else’ the semantic force of the nature of mind, backed by beauty, tracked by passion, empowered by immediacy and fully realizing the sheer emptiness upon which interdependence floats, will allow change to materialize.

    I know that very few ever came back to tell, I hope to do otherwise, if for nothing else but the need of your existence extended across the times, for all great acts are at bottom highly specific and point to a motive that is other than I.

    Farewell my friend, wish me luck.



    part of the Ultrashorts project

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