Syzygy & CATCHING SIGNALS THAT SOUND IN THE DARK

this is the end this is the calm we are the resin after the storm washed up on the beach
rest here with thee

—

syzygy is over
they “found” the higgs
it was right where “he” left it
and it’s still a boy
so this doesn’t bode well for goddess worship
or the paradox of twins
i dunno what the fuck i’m saying
here are my two new tumblrs, goodbye from here

—

personal: http://airshowerarrays.tumblr.com/

collage: http://junkscience4bizarreapplications.tumblr.com/

clear voices haunt clair audience
and you will never get away
never get away
en francais
roll your tongue

— (via esswhyzeewhygeewhy)

clear voices haunt clair audience
and you will never get away
never get away
en francais
roll your tongue

—

end, calm, resin, storm, beach, thee

air ain’t heat to the stars
air’s in heat to the star
when the rains set in

in a struggle to find secret songs that you keep wrapped in boxes
so tight sounding only at night while you sleep, blister

mass equals church squared under energy

Muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone.

—Alan Watts (via nirvikalpa)

(Source: theretinalorchestra, via theuniverseworks)

you read it here first, kids
if spacetime can loop, it can feedback
and it did, and it does, and it is

the universe is indeed wrapped up into and onto and over itself
like a spacetime distortion
or how they make kitana swords: again and again
folding again and again

—

looking glass world, the leading edge. i know i’ve been here before. i thought of a girl today and saw her tanned doppelganger walking down the street a little while later. my mother was one digit off from winning the lottery. i saw a car’s license plate matching her license plate the same digit off. a gulfstream jet flew right overhead, its shadow enveloping my car. you have to be in the exact spot at the exact moment with the sun at its exact position to witness instances like that. blink, and they’re gone.

there are seconds and there are minutes. and there are arcseconds and there are arcminutes. but nobody but me yet has a working understanding of just exactly what constitutes a moment. i read everything i can get my hands or palms or swiping / gesturing fingertips on. i look far and wide every single day. the knowledge is out there but scattered all over the place, and the only useful, actionable intelligence is buried deep within the intuition of the people i come to meet, know, and love, its encryption so fine, it’s months before they consciously open up. all i get are glances, glimpses, then particles of wisdom, then it’s back to normal.

there are times though, when i can hear in 3.1, 5.1, 7.1 - the speakers turn inward and become microphones, and all the sound, all the noises, all the vibrations turn into a ransom note. there are signs everywhere. you have to enter into a state of being where you’re listening to yourself listen, and then one level deeper than that. second star to the right and straight on til night, or something. you can’t even become the wind. metaphors and allegories are useless. sadly, it might not even be your doing.

but that state of being exists, and if you could only hear what everybody is saying, it would make your head spin. even they don’t know how brilliant they are. 

the entire month of june was a spectacular mindfuck. it will take me all autumn to wade through the dust. 

she comes to see me in the museum. comes every morning and again when she can. strokes her blistered hand across my glass container, saying “it’s so good to see you back here again”

your veins may call in sweat for blood

—