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jonathan.m.isbell
the quadrant of angles, US
Immortal since Jul 13, 2009
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metaevol.com
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    From f.Myles
    TOWARD A SCIENCE OF...
    Now playing SpaceCollective
    Where forward thinking terrestrials share ideas and information about the state of the species, their planet and the universe, living the lives of science fiction. Introduction
    Featuring Powers of Ten by Charles and Ray Eames, based on an idea by Kees Boeke.
    it grows
    and gains in power, having only a mirror
    within itself,
    a being, as yet, unformed,
    the power, seeing itself, breaks
    the mirror. yet, the mirror
    is the only outward reflection
    of itself.
    and so outwardly
    it disintegrates while
    inwardly losing
    perspective, until it can
    rebuild itself.

    again.

    from the inside out.

    the HollowArch.

    2016.02.14:0645 @ the 313
    Sun, Feb 14, 2016  Permanent link

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    its the silents that get(s) me..
    gets to me thats is.
    its not quite silence,
    its all those, silent minds;
    the voices-
    words
    that die unspoken;
    their only friend is Echo.
    who's there?
    that has a ready
    ear.
    a steadier hear
    has never found its ear-
    nor its rest.
    but the echos
    only
    bounce
    back
    câb snüøb.

    seeing my self. reflected in smoke...
    coals: black but still aglow.
    an arsonist,
    to the village set he
    his mind against its grain
    and burning thus
    he turned away,
    e'en fire
    can't light his face.
    from light he turns
    and turns again,
    to the void he speaks his name.

    and who is there to meet him,
    this man who hides his well?
    the stars alone can greet him,
    in deep stillness, see themselves.

    2010.10.08:009
    metaevol 158377
    Mon, Apr 11, 2011  Permanent link

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    Synapses (3)
     

    the mirror and the stare from metaevol

    i am ailing!
    i am ailing, in distuned repose-
    some c(h)ord of portent
    upends me now
    unbodied unquiet sleep,
    (where art thou?)

    i lurch suddenly,
    midsection constringed,
    toward the precipice
    whence you fell-
    what evil dream
    has come to life,
    as i slumber ill-astride?
    you've gone,
    yet-tied and strung.


    with umbilical taught,
    my body contorted,
    i brace myself-
    and rise.

    heels dug,
    the edge i seek,
    to stare that gaping black,
    consumed you.

    i can neither see acrost
    nor abreast this beast
    that preys in silence
    as we sleep.

    what blood was spilt
    so scorched the earth between us?

    not blood, but bile-
    vain sacrifice to venus?

    saught not the sky-
    no smoke,
    no fire;
    no altered winds,
    no change!
    instead we bound stale, rotting pools
    of stagnant fleshy wounds;
    and seeking thus yet motlen dea(p)ths
    it rent our rock in twain.

    thus boiling,
    burning,
    cloud comes
    churning,
    fills the growing space
    inside...
    the edge of you,
    the edge of me:
    our heart await demise.

    dis c(h)ord alone can save us,
    one must avoid the fall;
    so stand i must,
    to pull you up,
    lest death consume us all...

    a vantage into darkness!
    or...a vantage from within?
    a cord to climb,
    a twine to pull,
    survive this hell again.

    thus water quenches fire,
    and steam, it cleans the air,
    the two of us
    are two of one-
    the mirror
    and the stair.

    -158377
    2010.11.04:2043
    jmi
    metaevol

    Mon, Apr 11, 2011  Permanent link

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    underneath the atrium
    she empties her box
    contents strewn in the corridor
    hiding behind a column
    as my ghost wanders
    rooms devoid
    the collateral damages
    of invisible demons
    long since left
    rotting structures
    unaware of their inheritance
    a lone rubber boot
    the only proof of life
    lines echoing stairwells
    labyrinthine
    my voice calls to me
    across the twisting heights
    escapes me
    yet one last demon comes to her
    taunting. a reminder of her own
    knife placed deftly in
    her back
    where it still resides

    when i awake this dream
    the demon king
    has already transported us to
    our cell
    dungeon door unlocked
    no escape

    nude descending staircase
    comes full round
    to meet her naked
    face in mirror

    the past lies beyond
    ridden that backwords
    world, with causalities
    of lust

    2010.12.18:1651
    jmi
    metaevol
    Mon, Apr 11, 2011  Permanent link

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    red earth modulated, baked on stacked
    surrounds.
    the ground
    swell.
    from the dust came I.
    from dust to dust i stand
    brought and wrought by human hand.
    undulating tectonics
    swirling folding
    eating itself
    then tectonic wall.
    spanned and capped with tar.

    the planar terrestry
    was never enough.
    we wanted the stars.
    a tower we built.
    elevate the temporal corporality
    if not the atemporal conscious.
    from coop corp.
    communal freedom dies
    killed by collective unconscious.
    the currency of the free world:
    freedom
    is not what we have bought but with which we buy.
    and when our capital is spent,
    what then?
    why, we must buy it back of course.
    they say nothing comes without a cost.
    i say nothing comes at a cost, which is what we get
    at market value.

    when love is lost and never found
    when love was never known
    homogeneity cloistered and common
    individuality becomes
    le modular. unique in it's separateness,
    the illusion of the familiar. all lines bleed into one.
    there is no weight, no density, no differentiation
    only differential settlement, I am.
    i will settle no more. climb out of this hole
    I will. a hole surround. a fortress of internality.
    not to withstand from without. the deep dark well
    is not deep
    not dark enough. a hole in the sky, anchored to the earth.
    its not up but out, not down but in. sucked into the bounds
    of topography, we wash ashore, ebb and flow with wax and wane.

    i remember situations in which i had no consciousness. a prisoner in time and space. i don't want to talk to the imbeciles. they are blind. they see only forms, shadows projected upon the back wall of the eye. their hearts reverberate without resounding. the echo is lost, she calls on blind ears. deaf eyes. they know no moments, endless cascades of time wash over them like sea foam beating them senseless against a senseless floor. even the rock responds to water, and the tree it bends for air. invisible things before our face. we are amiss.

    we spin to face the sun. the air becomes visible in twilight. when minds of men are sleeping. they forget the transposition and call upon star to rise and fall, they are spectators in a tiny arena. a new day dawns without shedding light on the world. darkness surrounds us, penetrates us. I feel it, but our eyes have become accustomed to it, and yet we feel the surface like in the womb, never born, tied to tradition, inertia moves us forward.

    i am placeless, nameless, until you name me, you call me arbitrarily, and i do not respond, for you do not know me. where you should see only your reflection, it is in fact your image which stares right through you, for you are hollow, inert, a ghost without memory or place. nothing moves itself, and yet you move...what moves you? only gravity, which pulls you ever closer to death. you can never hope for a finish, and yet you have never hoped. you forget an ending is eminent, yet your have never begun. if you are lucky, you won't see it until it is too late. but most likely you will never see it at all. so build your walls, that you might occupy them, place your coffin in waiting, and dwell.

    my life haunts my dreams
    which become ever the more real to me.
    reality
    simulation
    which is the more real?

    brown stone black stone
    living skin covers bleach-ed bone.

    i redress myself
    let sleepless days pass silently
    till construction reveals itself in form.
    the waking mind in unconsciousness.
    wordless to the world. i am sleeper.
    Mon, Apr 11, 2011  Permanent link

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    interface from di3it on Vimeo.



    this project shows a typical scenario in 4 different political environments, dealing with immigration and national/local territories:

    1. US government solidifies CA/MEX border, thus steming the flow of illegal immigrants, and isolating itself.

    2. US opens CA/MEX border, thus restoring CA to its former status as a state of shared colonial governance.

    3. CA secedes from US, joining with mexico to create an independent state.

    4. CA secedes from US, and solidifies its own borders, thus becoming anentity unto itself...




    sci-ARC spring 2009.
    benjamin bratton, instructor.
    written by mike nesbit, jonathan.m.isbell
    directed/shot/edited by jonathan.m.isbell

    featuring music by
    porn sword tobacco
    radiohead
    chris bathgate
    edIT
    (used for educational use only)

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    bicentennial man from di3it on Vimeo.


    the setting is turn of the century los angeles, complete with human powered automobiles and penny farthing bicycles. main street is zoned as a freeway, with ginormous freeway signs on the pedestrian sidewalk. it starts out at the historic pacific electric building, where once-upon-a-time, the silver city had street cars whizzing from downtown to inglewood, from santa monica to pasadena..all over LA county and neighboring counties. the P&E building was where many of the electric light rail cars were parked.

    then came the automobile. in a time when auto and tire manufacturers were buying up all the public transportation, the cobblestone streets of LA were literally paved over to smooth the way for the internal-combustion single-family-car/dwelling, with the passage of the highway act, the fate of economical, environmentally friendly public transportation was sealed in stone-which had been re-appropriated as asphalt. many of the streets in downtown LA are now crumbling, revealing the original cobblestone-and some of the rails-beneath!

    follow our carefree adventurer as he braves the busy bustle on bygone technology, in his search for the wizard of trans himself!

    featuring music by george gershwin and paul schoenfield (for educational use only)

    inspired by Urban Systems at sci-ARC in los angeles.

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