No Name Wedding

"No Name Wedding" (2016)

Life Resolved

Life Resolved (2016)

The many enlightened human spirits of this world are sentient, self-aware bands of two-dimensional energy... interacting with one another subjectively, through an objective and tangible 3-D medium.

Time is not real.

Because time is not real, these creatures forget that there are dimensions above and below them. They only know what their socially conditioned senses tell them. Which is... not much.

There is no such thing as death, only a transition. A brief toggle switch. 

Life is an infinite chamber of mirrors. You cannot catch the original in the sea of reflections.

I myself may be an original. And if so, then why am I alive? Simply to be original or to be alive?

Look out to any point with a telescope powerful enough, and you will see bits of energy vibrating 13+ billion years ago... the very same bits of energy that are a part of you in present time.

Outrun the speed of light, and you will travel backwards through time itself.

Isn't that what the tachyon does? This theoretical particle is said to always travel faster than light. How can that be?

A paradox. 

Death is but a passing feeling. It is not real.

Life cannot be bought or sold. It is real.

It simply is, and always will be.

Thought XI

Thought XI (2016)

Blend celestial light and apocalyptic darkness to create a cosmic symphony.

The Schizoid

Excerpt from "The Schizoid" (2016)

         Cold fluorescence enslaved my senses. I felt numb and distant from my own self. The walls around me buzzed with fear. I opened my eyes to find myself strapped down and immobilized on a stretcher as several blurry silhouettes hovered above me. My nose itched but I could not reach for it. There was a tube in my right arm. The tempered beeping and humming of various medical equipment slowly crept into my right eardrum. My left one gave me nothing but empty silence.  As I began coming to my senses I felt my spirit spitefully pushed forward into a shallow ghastly grave.

                What had I done to get here?

                And then… I remembered.

                I killed three men. They were guilty as all hell… and had to die. For working class dregs like me, there comes, a few times per lifetime, a very precise and particular situation. Forget everything. Forget the law. Know only fear. Forget the courts and the system and the company and the job and the family. Either kill or I get killed. Act. Do not think. There is no other way.

I did what I had to do in order to appease the overlords of my particular union. The hourly jobs in my district did not pay enough to even support a family of three. I had to take on side projects from an underground union in order to feed my wife and kid. It was through an unfortunate unraveling of one of these projects that I ended up in this predicament. There was no escape from what I had done, or from what I was about to do. The memory of exactly what went wrong still eluded me. I focused on my immediate reality and the exact situation at hand.

So, here I am, in a maximum security mental institution. I hope the food here is worth what the tax-payers paid for. They’re going to evaluate me before trial, I suppose. More like torture me… ugh! These fractal neuron machines hurt like hell. I’ve had one before. They scan thoughts with them, leaving subatomic tears in the subject’s neurons. One, you don’t feel it, but… people obviously have more than one neuron. Multiply that by every possible pathway in the brain… and… you get excruciating pain.

                “Do you remember your name? I am Dr. Welson. We will tag you as ‘Patient Thirteen’ from here on out if you do not remember. An identity is important for surviving the evaluation process. If you cannot come up with one, we shall provide you with one, at no further inconvenience.”

                Dr. Welson seemed to be an honest man on first impression. Honest, dedicated, educated… kind of like the third man I kille… (Wait, you idiot. You can’t think you’re guilty already, they’ll trace the thoughts. Think innocent. Think innocent. Think innocent!) He could probably tell right away that I was a psycho killer (I am NOT a psycho killer!). Many vagabonds and star drifters end up with kill totals above three to their name. Not many have killed two people of high regard, esteem, wealth… power.

                Now, if only I could remember the third… wait a god damn minute! I’ve never killed anybody!

                “No. I don’t know who I am,” I lied. I don’t know if he bought it.

                Of course I remembered. I was Daniel Rothsonn. Now I am Patient Thirteen (To them… Wait. Wait… Wait… Damn. I AM Patient Thirteen.).

I’ve read an in-depth investigation report of this place in a weekly news magazine. Apparently, this hospital saves lower ID numbers for the worst cases, a kind of running gimmick they seem to have.

                Why am I now Patient Thirteen? I must have done something awful.

                 And then… I remembered. I killed three men. (Or did I?)

                Ah yes, one of the men I killed was a highly esteemed galactic diplomat. The other was a wealthy property manager. That one owned five mining stations in the outer asteroid belt of Solara III. So then, who was the third?

                “Who was the third?”

                “Stay calm,” the doctor proclaimed. “I won’t lie to you. You will experience major pain during this upcoming process. The less you shake and scream, the quicker we can get on with it. By law, I must reserve judgment upon you until your court day. It is in my oath to properly treat you… the best I can.”

                The interrogative drugs started pumping into my right arm’s vein. My past life began to flash in my mind’s eye. I used to be a simple working class man, in the prime of my life. I’d clock in and out of Gideon Metal Works five times per week, then I’d come home to a simple wife and a slightly demented nine year old boy (must have been all that teenage drug use on my end). She was a very plain woman, and he was a very stupid kid, and yet, the simplicity of our family scenes gave me comfort, gave me a reason to carry on through a dreadful job which I had no hopes of ever leaving.

Multiverse Population Theory

Multiverse Population Theory (2016)

The more populous a particular multiverse is, the more advanced and sophisticated it can become.

A multiverse which is populated by one single creature or entity will consist of an eternity of time during which this particular creature or entity lives this eternity out inside its own mind.

A vast and diverse multiverse of many different species, creatures, and entities, such as this one, allows for a much more diverse range of phenomena, such as the passing of generations, death, birth evolution, and the perceived passage of time.

Diversity of participants and observers is critical to the success or failure of a particular multiverse. A multiverse which has observers and participants that can acquire new technology and push known limits will fare better in the concept of existence than, say, a multiverse in which the particularities and parameters prevent any kind of technological progress from happening.

Cliff-side Takeoff

"Cliff-side Takeoff" (2016)

Mirror Self-portrait

"Mirror Self-portrait" (2016)

The Lightning Rod

The Lightning Rod (2016)

    Sitting in a school bus, floating down a tranquil river of streets, passing neat rows of houses aligned like teeth on a flawless smile that radiates  nothing but compassion. 

    Home. 

    It is so beautiful. 

    Daddy got a new job. Mommy was happy. This place is so beautiful...

    Going downtown with daddy, such a special treat. Fill up that little bag with candy from the corner store. Ring up a purchase of shimmering diamonds at the counter, where Old Joe cracks those old jokes more than he cracks his hip. 

    The sun dances across the lake's surface. It speaks of a lighthearted and eternal happiness, which I quickly intrude with my fishing pole. Daddy says never harm anyone you haven't had a talk with first. Never kill the fish, give them a chance to tell their tale about the bottom of the lake.

    The truck drives into the smiling neighborhood. The sun's reflection off the attic windows tells you you're where you need to be. Driving past a stretch of wood, then a small open field

    "Daddy, what's that tall thing over there?"

    "That's a lightning rod, son."

    "What's it for?"

    "It attracts lightning when there's a storm, so the lightning hits it every 
time."

    "Why would they make something like that?"

    "Well, to make sure the lightning never hits our beautiful home, or our 
neighbors', or their neighbors'."

    It protects those beautiful houses, that rusted old tower. Casual visitors never see the hideous blend of rust and cement that is attached to the neighborhood like an ugly wart.

    Then the house, isolated by a ring of police cars. Uneasy bunches of people hovering around it, never going closer than they dare. How quickly the smiling place became angry and terrified... even neighborhoods have their occasional mood swings. The terror, once conceived inside the walls, 
spreads like a virus, a terminal illness ready to kill anything in its path.

   Grandfather: Nailed to the side wall like an obscure work of art. Upside down, embracing Jesus' famous pose; don't think its blood, wine dripping out of his head. Stained streams branch out from the ankles high up, meeting with others and converging below the eyes. They are face to face 
with Lucifer.

    Grandmother: Bundled up like a pile of laundry, arms and legs sorted out and exchanged with each other. Crude stitches fill the dark red seams. Eyes on heaven, hands nailed together in bloody unity, praying for a better end.

    Mother: Womb ripped open, maternal affection turned inside out, a fetus lies, alive enough to have witnessed but not comprehended. Her gracious figure inverted, an elegant stature shattered. The baby never cried.

    Brother and Sister: Their faces exchanged, stapled imperfectly onto the pale flesh. No blood, on the innocent young saints. They have not yet been corrupted, but they are mutilated just the same.

    Blood spots nearly gone out of the green grassy lawn. Truck rolls away, its occupants fate predestined, they listlessly await false sympathy and compassion which is theirs down the road, near a therapist's office but not in it. Passed by the defeated lightning rod, it lies crying; its cement 
skeleton shattered to pieces, rusted arteries will not throb.

    "Mr. Jones, are you awake?"

    "Uhhh..."

    "Don't worry Mr. Jones. You just passed out from a bit too much Novocain. Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you. This happens quite often with root canal operations."

    "Uhh, Uuhh..."

    "So, your insurance plan covers today's visit. Just rest here for a few minutes, and the sleepiness will be gone in no time. You did great today, Mr. Jones."

    "Ugghhh..."

    34 S. Monroe Avenue apartment 19-G. 19 flights up. Nineteen. A nice apartment for its cost. Wise investment. The door boy needs to get the newspaper faster, evening is coming. Open the door; the window, in need of fresh air and more. Shoes over the edge slightly, stand there, admiring life magnified by a factor of nineteen floors the other way. Seeing loved ones closer just got a whole lot easier.

    A rock in shallow water, a boulder in a pond; 
    cadaver falls to father
    then to mother and beyond.

Through Dreamspace Eyes...

"Through Dreamspace Eyes..." (2016)

Dream Entity

"Dream Entity" (2016)

Thought X

Thought X (2016)

Question everything.

Question all.

Velocity: NULL

"Velocity: NULL" (2016)

Thought IX

Thought IX (2016)

Think for yourself. 

Question any and all authority... 

at any and all times. 

Always and forever.

Thought VIII

Thought VIII (2016)

You are your skafander.

Thought VII

Thought VII (2016)

Unregulated capitalism must fall, or else the human race will become extinct by the 24th Century.

Re-entry Sixty Miles

"Re-entry Sixty Miles" (2016)

Thought VI

Thought VI (2016)

"Good for you, person of vast wealth, person of rich and plenty. One day... if in the past, you exploited others for these riches... one day, karma will train-wreck you and your life. You are going to wish you never were born."

Thought V

Thought V (2016)

To other sentient civilizations nearby... in our corner of the realm called The Milky Way Galaxy... this entire star system is but another speck in a loosely organized constellation, drifting aimlessly through their night sky.

Question and Answer II

Question and Answer II (2016)

The enlightened thinker asks an average American:

"What are you so haphazardly racing towards, my capitalist friend?"

The average American hesitates, then meekly replies:

"Death."

Theory of Everything Equation

Theory of Everything Equation (2016)

∞^(∞)=(∞)^∞ .

Thought IV

Thought IV (2016)

Reality is relative.

Thought III

Thought III (2016)

One cannot pay people starvation level wages... and then blame them for their own poverty in the same breath.

Thought II

Thought II (2016)

People will believe anything their senses tell them.

Death in the Capsule

"Death in the Capsule" (2016)

The Terror of Cry's'ahn

The Terror of Cry's'ahn (2016)

I was gathered among some elders around an ethereal fire. The subject of discussion was the doomed constellation of Cry’s’ahn. 

We were honoring the dead.

                “How many do you think perished in the gate detonation?”      

 

                “Perhaps ten trillion, old friend… perhaps… ten trillion.”

                It was the most vicious act of terrorism the galaxy had ever seen. Twelve star systems wiped of all life… simultaneously. I exhaled from the ritual pipe and passed it clockwise around the circle. The smoke exited my lungs like a cosmic wisp, then it slowly rose above our ethereal fire and into the night sky. We could still see remnants of the gate detonation; its light was accelerated out to us by the anti-tachyonic wakes left by the terrorist explosions.

                “Their dead souls breathe new fire into our night…”

 I mused at the glistening cascades of dead stars above me.

                “Souls cannot die, young one… souls… cannot die… “

                Perhaps he was right.

                Souls cannot die.

                And yet, over ten trillion lives did.

                Why?

Question and Answer I

Question and Answer I (2016)

Q: What is the point of going into the Cosmos... to explore its dangers?



A: What is the point of being alive in the first place? What is the point of existing if the point of existing is only to exist?

Thought I

Thought I (2016)

The artist abandons his job, along with his tyrant capitalist overlord from the manufacturing district. The Artist then goes on to live a wondrous life of renaissance art, music, and beauty.

The common manufacturing employee (who always shuns the artist) does not abandon his capitalist overlord in the manufacturing district. The common manufacturing employee knows nothing else outside of said district. 

He doesn't have time to know anything else. 

He has to get back to work.

There Is Always Hope for the Future...

Always Hope (2016)

Yes, there is always hope for the future.

Abandon your dogma. Stare up...

 into the Cosmos...

There, in the celestial light, you will find a way

 to survive...

... until the morning comes.