“I don’t care about his size, I’ll punch out his lights then send him an electric bill” he said, getting hyped before the fight. Outside the image may appear quite fearsome as we have a chap that isn’t slim and trim nor is he shmoozing to avoid bruising his competition. Inside, however, its a totally different script. Like I said about the kid who did everything but study for his test due to the immense stress he couldn’t accept he felt this chap was no different. He was covered in tattoos. Like an exoskeleton. That was one of the odd things that got my attention as, back when, this wasn’t all that common as people had the usual ink that appeared to be dotted, at random, but his whole canvas was filled. “Thats got to mean something” I said, to my Self and then proceeded to ask questions:
“I have a theory that opines each time a needle and ink sliced your skin, outside, that was done to equate or hide some pain you feel within. What do you think?“. He put down his drink, blinked and furrowed his brow before saying:
“Yes”.
That was it. “Cool” then dipped as A) I didn’t know him, B) I’d got an answer and C) it seemed my hypothesis was correct so I left it at that and went back to emptying the fruit machine. By the way, old school tip. If you listen to the sound the tank makes when you put your pound in you can tell if its filled or needing to be fed. Then you select one of those that has the Game option as well as the reels where you ping around a board to try and score a deal. What you do next is reject the prize event it offers not once or twice but thrice and then something of interest happens. It empties its cache all over the carpet. How did I discover this? Simple, the principles of observation and experimentation as the sound bit was Self evident because if your quid sounded like it fell into the abyss then that bish ain’t been fed in a minute. If, on the flip, you hear the “chink” the moment you drop it then its winning season. The next bit came from pondering the simple logic that must be on display for this rudimentary Game as it had to be a basic IF, OR, AND, THEN program which meant it expected you to play like a human. Case in point, if the main prize is Two Hundred and Fifty and you get on the board after a couple of spins and it offers a tenner for a quid most people will accept. If you reject you have a chance of losing but if the soundboard was filled this is reduced as well so it will offer you a twenty now. Who would reject this? Well, if its belly was not rumbling and you’d timed the tumbling well then after this rejection you get a fifty up in your grill. The interesting thing was if you said no to the this the Game just stopped working and emptied its reserves. Turns out this was intended and it was a way for the owner to cleanse it without going through the faff of opening the machine with keys. This I didn’t know, back when, as I was operating off observation and deduction ergo when I drew the link that none of the criminals around the ends did a mischief on a straight head but when steroids and amphetamine were in their systems its was time to get wicked I started noting how peeps would tend to get new ink after such events. They didn’t spot the links but I saw it enough to sense a Pattern hence when I met said gunslinger mentioned I couldn’t help but wondering. A while later he said:
“Why did you ask me that question?“. I told him I wanted answers and had been trained by the best to go right to the connect and get that potent product with no half steps. He grinned at the reference. Thats how we started talking. Then we leapt to the bit at the head and now we’ll shift to the aftermath of said events as his Opponent was sent to A&E with multiple contusions of the brain and his features, rearranged.
“Run it back again. Who were you really fighting? It couldn’t have been him as A) you’d just met him B) what he did wasn’t deserving of said agg and C) you said you didn’t care about his size but he was the same height and weight anyway”.
“Hmm” he said, icing his fists and spinning his Rolodex. This is what I mean about bits of you, stuck in time, my friend. They give not an F about the Plank Constant or speed of light mess as they move at the power of darkness from within the shadows depth ergo its everywhen in an instant. The wildest part is they are you, unfiltered and direct, but suppressed to create the Pane Body, mentioned. In dreams you often meet them, up close and personal. They are also the true cause of the dreaded “bad trip” and, I strongly suspect, what underpins a schizophrenics hallucinations. Its worth noting that those with a wild rep often kept a wide berth from the previous in patients now “cared for” by the community as the government heads juked the stats and unleashed a whole load of mental patients to the pavements to fend for themselves… As a wise man once said:
“I’m crazy but he’s genuinely insane! You’ve got some strange friends…”.
Not long after this was when he had he breakthrough event that I mentioned in the other article as he cracked the shell of the (false) self and things were never the same again as he glimpsed the code of the Matrix that was, previously, lodged in his subconscious and running things. Another girl I met had a more subtle form of awakening so I guess its horses for courses thing… Life is a pretty strange thing, isn’t it? I mean, so many of you accept the premise of a rock that floats in the abyss as it chases a fireball into the distance as the base totality of your reality but I’m still not certain on even this as everything is a strong opinion, loosely held inside my OS so I stop and smell the roses, often. Its a celebration, bishes!
If you have a field with two rows of crops and one of them is radiantly spry and the other isn’t the pests will come and dine on the one that is weak first. Animals do this too. As do the entities that consume humans like food. This is why it doth behoove one to awaken the Warrior within by doing the Knowledge as the pavement pugilist attests for many people think rote regurgitation for the test equals intelligence and thus would look down on him but, in the same swing, they all acknowledge that street smarts are a thing they’re mostly lacking in as they never needed to develop it. Some folks are born with their head on a swivel as its a means of surviving the madness they inherited to wear flesh in the lineage they incarnated in. This is the reason I’ve said you’re perfectly equipped to play the hand, dealt, to win as that is how the Game is. It may, however, hide the truth of this behind a load of IF, OR, AND, THEN programming with some carrots it dangles like coping mechs, the art of pretend, disassociation and fronting. Each bring a “reward” but, in the end, you’re cheating your Self as the machine was filled as it was yours for the taking as you are the owner of said establishment and this is all part of the challenge of mastering the Temple of flesh you’re currently wearing. Thats 8 billion jackpots, unclaimed, he gets to rake as long as the rest don’t click they’re spending all the money that he says is fit to print as part of the ultimate hustle…
Doesn’t that make a lot more sense or maybe even a little? These bits that are stuck in time form and bind tensions in the mind and flesh which are filled with what I’ve termed Pixems. They are bands of resistance that drain ones life current as we try to resist what persists by pretending it doesn’t exist. In many cases the effect releasing them has on ones personality is so dramatic it becomes Self evident we are way more than the skin and its presence simply modulates, not creates, consciousness but thats a higher res thing. These bits are raw, unfiltered and intense. They give no Fs about your social pretense and I strongly think they’re the reason we have wars, sports and entertainment as they allow a vent for said things but that is also akin to scratching a photo to soothe an itch. And yet, pixels on a screen can cause a grown man to sob like a kid as he remembers the life he could’ve lived and actually wanted before another mantle was thrust onto him. Its a strange world, isn’t it? Lately I’ve been wondering why I bother doing this when I could, instead, divert those energetics to working on my Self because I Know the Ledge and the 8% stats tell the true pic because the rest simply do not care about this and will actively resist gnosis so who am I to tell them? I do suspect the reason is that if I were suffering and someone had the key to unlock my inner realms I’d surely appreciate the hint as, one thing is for certain, its never boring. Often petrifying though but, after a while, you simply ease into the tension with whole hearted acceptance and that, my friend, is time traveling in full effect.
The rest of the plebs are, seemingly, content running around in a winter wonderland dreaming of champagne supernovas without ever stopping to ponder, at all, why life feels like running into a brick wall, back when, so they lay, dazed, and believe whatever Simon Says as he inserts stories into their head they accept as as a self but its not the real thing. To admit this deception would be akin to throwing the imposter from the helm and the parasite of consciousness like this not one bit ergo its not the Soul resisting but something else and, guess what, he’s got the whole Earth in his hands…
The hardest thing to be in this world is you because its a one of one deal. So what if the deck is rigged with cards marked and chips not worth a zip? Play it to win. Play it to win, my friend. The art of recapitulation is going back through these old events and recoding your OS because the past is always present but the most ironic thing is only now exists and its what you pick that defines the future ergo we’re constantly time traveling, yes? The Fourth Dimension is as invisible to most as water to a fish and due to this ignorance they two step on the treadmill instead.
The thing with the criminal element is they, often, rejected societies programming and thus still retain the capacity to think whereas the rest, well adjusted, Thunk instead but never seem to question why that voice in their head issues thoughts, totally predictable… I guess they’re waiting for the echoes to speak which is pretty wild, isn’t it? The streets provide a freedom that the boardroom cannot even imagine and yet I’ve often said that if you picked a single parent off the dole and asked them to balance the spends of a nation she’d ace the test due to being used to doing more with less ergo the world is a mess on purpose which opens up a whole nother chamber of gnosis.
If you wish.
Till we meet again
