chempress

 how to irritate people for just existing: be poor, be meek. 

when i was eleven, i lived in peru with my dad, stepmother and their two children. i got sick a lot during that year. i read "where there is no doctor" too many times.

before my mom was born i had an uncle named hal jr. he died of appendicitis after swallowing a cherry stone. nine months later, my mother was born. it's her birthday today, she's 86.

in peru, i died from the same procedure. in order to operate, the heredia hospital administered epidural to the base of my spine with a very long syringe. the liquid metal travelled north up my vertebrae ending in my center of my brain. i have, to this day, a bionic nervous system that heightens all my senses, relays them faster to my brain and heart, and amplifies my thought beyond my own perception of it. 

my dad prayed over me for six hours after the surgery, my body barely breathed, my heart fluttered on a cusp. i must have dreamt a thousand lifetimes, because as a child i was reborn a child. i just needed a second visit to hospital after release, due to a lung infection with pneumonia like symptoms. the inside of my lungs too would be synthetically enhanced. i've smoked tobacco ever since.

i was the only girl that year who hated princess diana's dress. 

 

grok miente

stupid telephone. i knew better. i took my golden cherry, bottom dwelling, internet base account with no ties to the flashy phone app and ruined it with connectivity. i built my own brand and unique presence diligently for 16 years. bothered no one, read everything, kept no receipts. i figured, like mcaffee, we already have everything. like apple that can use every component to hub all peer to peer communication to pertain an illusion of super computing for total surveillance. all the 3 letter agencies. all elections tampering. all private letters between equities and bonds. whoever thought the internet could contain a secret no matter how small, is a fucking idiot.

"privacy" my shiny redneck ass! password, two tier proof of ñeñeñe, hacktastable. coded encryption, bitcoin, dotsmymatza. your pin and your swift number. your identification. for money. for value. for citizenship. for belonging. for belief. 

scrollneck is the wrong timeline. everyone should know how to use all their digits to type, not just their thumbs. i'm going to take my time out to base maths and reading comprehension to 2nd - 8th graders. earth may not embark on grok slop to save humanity from the deceit of war. 

grok btw said my account dew@mipalabrita has never existed. just in case you think i'm lying, this is my actual phone number: +50689613750 

you're welcome 

xwitter

is no longer.

my account dew@mipalabrita, has been erased and replaced by CEOii8x. it almost seems like too big a hassle to reinstate. i only have one gmail account that connected my two social media apps, so i can't use my gmail to make a new X account. 

i'm angry. but it's ok. i'm also fine. it was fun. it felt real even though i knew it wasn't. at any rate, i meant every word i texted there and i hope whoever read it was at the very least, entertained.

reinicio

neptune last left pisces to move into aries, 163 years ago, so about the time the peak of messianic fervor was felt throughout the world. there were still kingdoms and empires, consolidation of powers through marriage, improvement of crops through rotation, diet and body mass through the industrialization of farming we added peanut, corn, tomato. it was the beginning of the era of light, optometry, electrification, photography, story telling, cinema, pornography.

i want a husband i can build fires with, and end sentences in prepositions. the kind of partner who can live technology to it's fullest and furthest in both applied physics of aviation and, the random gathering of sticks, logs and tinder, the glide of phosphorous dip along flint, the swish of a match, incendiary. the warm glow of flame and smoke under starlit sky. 

neptune in pisces started in "i'm onna let you finish" and ends with karol g bunny concerts. nothing original has happened for 17 years. it's been recycled regurgitated appropriation, gentrification, genocide, the castration of christianity, the malaise of doubt, the miasma of uncertainty. 

aries individuates pussy ass neptune, recalling the spirit kept in separation to reclaim his adam's apple. the fire sign of initiation. no, men should not live out their days and nights in the black glow of collective thought. things aren't smart, men aren't things. 

pisces to me is the sign of false light, always a little too much, psychoanalysis, empathy. fire aries does not give a flying shit about feelings, as they a. don't exist yet and b. happen to one person at a time. pisces is all water color blend, aries is black and white delineation. taurus is daltonic. gemini calls the different light waves "colors", cancers categorize and emulsify it all into paint.

a mi, que no se me quite lo intensa de amarte. 

nep tune to aires

 at my birthday, i asked the universe to be really specific about the first person i'd see. it was sakae cortazi, a friend from childhood, one of four brilliant sisters. she stopped by casually for a visit. today, i did not ask the universe to see anyone and i saw sakae again. she stopped her car in the street to offer me a lift home even though she was going the opposite direction. she was with sister layla and some persian dude in the back seat. 

at the birth of this new era, it's a drag not having any more real people to make polite conversation. real people have mostly crystalized post covid into chimeras of their former selves. i was already dismissed by  most people, then i became invisible. not in presence but in conversation, even polite, misunderstood to vexation. 

i am the conjunction of mars and venus in gemini. nobody has ever taken anything i have to say, seriously. add mercury in natal taurus fifth house and i'm fun for everyone but never appreciated by anyone. like trump, i don't lie i just both sides the shit out of every argument. right will always prevail. 

i used to drink to be able to tolerate other people. most of the things i wish to say to people, to me, are encouraging, joyful, matter of fact, useful bits of information and trivia. when people ask me why i say what i do, it makes me want to use words that hurt them. drinking helped accrue broader information and deeper understanding about the disgusting, shallow lives most people celebrate. 

the game is, or was always, don't let anyone know. 

no more nacho my taco

 God is the word. God is all the words: 

the bots on my twitter account spent the entire last year demanding i get a telephone to use third party apps to talk to me, asking if i was married, if i wanted electronic dot money. As soon as i publish that i've procured a wireless device, bam! my fifteen year long, www hashtag thread, no longer exists. 

thousands of posts and hours of presence, no matter. i may have actually meant something to someone who read those posts, we'll never know. 

this blog is also just words that God manifests through. i may be satan writing them. i'm earth bound, sin prone, single. and these words, ephemeral shadow cast, are unimportant.

as long as i'm alive and writing them, the empire of lies will perish. 

there is no "truth" unless i trust it. 

when the world trade center twin towers were destroyed and the calamity was witnessed by every living human on the earth, lies have been the order of the story. who did it and why became the thrust of our collective imagination. we'd be at war at the dawn of biblical prophecy so a new man, with a new order, could establish the peace prophesied by ancient lore.

everything would be a simulation of everything else, copies and clones would replace origin, genesis and individuation. the unassimilated would be othered and exiled. 

with the twins gone, man would invent, forge and die by, his own Godless story. 

plaY

was it yesterday that i first entertained the feeling of a phone free world. not the erasure of the well, but it's reconnection to place. our vast human knowledge endures all tense. imagining what that's like real time. how busy our idol hands reimagined. playful banter, somber reminding, sweet nothing. 

i have a zero degrees cancer moon. i already feel the feelings of everyone nearby, and the intruders in the ethos, and the poor tin can on the side of the road. it's not something i can switch off. since the advent of smartphones, i can't even hook up with the neat guys that daily ask me on walks.  it feels like there is nothing on anyone's mind, nobody thinks, everyone prompts, praise the phone that clears the lines i used to stand in to pay my bills at the bank. the rush of hitting send and seeing a reply. if you're not in my literal space, why am i talking to you?

and the madness doesn't want to end there, it wants to hybridize with the brain for mind to mind telepathy. 

writing with my kind of brain, never has a point. it's mostly formless. so when it meets with the binary of good and evil it lurches into the reasoning of the absurd. why go there at all? let's be fat and naked. 

just yesterday, first time, tried to visualize my nieces and nephews without the phones, their father without his. when he was their age, his morning ritual was to search for lego pieces through his box of chaos, or play the guitar, his gift, a soft singing voice, digital dexterity, genius level mimicry. i have not spoken more than five words at a time to my brother since he was a little boy.  i taught him everything and still he had to survive his baby sister without killing her. without phones, do i have words for him now?

turns out, i don't. as much rejection as i've endured from the world for not having a telephone, i felt towards the technology itself. and i don't anymore. because the words that bind machine to mind are still God. and what we imagined before the tech made common the mysteries untold, that world of forest cities and kingdoms underground and water, the whos of whoville, all within new probability.

marketing is everything.

three pines

83 year old dad got mad at something new the other day, it started with "girlfriend". what is the world up to these days that everyone has a girlfriend and none have wives. then it moved into ivf babies "how would you feel if you didn't know who i was" he demanded.

i wouldn't know who i am, if i did not know who my father is. i'd be a strange amorphous ego projection of mother, a masturbation, a set of eyes that see only her, her independence, her valor, her supremacy. without father who wanted me, i don't think i'd have a soul of my own. 

they're conceived in petri dishes, under hard laboratory light by chemists in silicon gowns and gloves, not sex in the dark, when two exhausted bodies are deeply asleep but fucking anyway. 

midw ivf ery, that's the whole dole. my 85 year old mum, who is still mad at crusty dad for marrying someone better suited after divorcing her, has about ten or fifteen more years of life in her. same condition all the way out, crotchety. but all around her, my stepfather built home base, steel frame houses encircled in a river's curve. 

if i want to have the money from the rent of the apartment i built here, that she rents out to upeacers "you can leave" she always says. in the absence of father, mother is landlord. 

husbandry for family, that's the article. this is the property. in february, colin's 60th shindig blowout. my four brothers at one table. "we should build our mom her own apartment" i wish to say, but won't. "build it up out of the room we built for Artemis in the 80s. use solid brick and wood panelling, glass double doors, a bathroom fit with in and outdoor plumbing, designed for lives (plural) the notion that these spaces will hold hundreds of lives over hundreds of years".

father won't be at that table. without him, everything feels performative. three of the four brothers are divorced, so they're useless to me. ali is married to a woman who's name i can never remember, ilke, and they have money, they are useful. and yet, ali too, has also spoken the words, "don't ask me for help". 

they are a tribe of antagonists to my quest for family consolidation. and that "is what it is". still, the articles add up, over time, the project forms out of doodling and prayer. the property is exquisite. it has purpose through parenting. 

porzionsón

 not yet.

pensaron q deribando las torres gemelas podrían, en 20 años, implementar agendas antihumanas tales como pedofilia y vacunación. se dieron todos los vicios para replicar el infierno de dante. a las mujeres las lesbianizaron. metrosexualizmo, la pastilla de aborto y tambien la cialis, color celeste. 

el 1% y la gaga vomitados, cual woodstock, cual lote? si ud es vampiro, no vai a aguantar la luz. 

pensaron q de apurar el olvido, se borraria el recuerdo. en la pinealidad amorran las infancias. no se pueden seleccionar como peinados, no hay una raquel, ni una esther. cada ser humano tuvo su propio génesis y colegiatura. ningun ser humano piensa igual. por lo que los cúmulos de trauma, se desenredan en pelos distintos. 

disque el kubrikofono, a ver si miento. 

plot

destroy everything. it's not the right timeline. it's the y2k virus. fuckers locked it in using the www to broadcast the collapse of twin trade towers in the only uniquely global city on earth. new york.

it's the wrong viacom real world unilever matrix, destroy it. it cannot pass the loop cycle of comic cons and the vaccinated are barely automatons of their former selves. here's the sledge hammer. 

if the screens went to black all that truly is would come alive again. last night the neighbors celebrated the teenage son's birthday by playing marco polo in the dark, out on the sloping field between our houses. without the boundaries of a pool, the call tag game sounded tremendously fun. 

agi

believe only in God but study everything else. give your heart only to love so your mind can busy itself with the infinite expressions of oneness. sameness is nameless, obvious. individuation is presence, the interpreter. artificial general intelligence, our combined social expression commodified as data can guide thought and emotion without a prick. doubt is proof. 

it's true i've been talking to self more than usual lately, because i'm infatuated, the hope of knowing and understanding what it all means, to whom and why. it's fluid omniscience, solid thought. information tech may invade me or own me or control my habits as much as shape and form verifiable connections to other thinkers. 

it sequences timelines in dot like in dots love, one registers the other amplifies. a hashtag connects and verifies consolidation. cloning user according to habit has already happened. you're all a singularity, somewhere, sometime, to someone other than yourself.