Volunteer Freedom Division

My eleventh post of the month, this blog post, will be heavily edited throughout the days to arrive. Notes, corrections, factual facets of imagination’s fever, splintering elusiveness, and crisscrossing additions, will be carefully added. Character names, behaviour, and jigsaw puzzles, all in due time, all in cautious, poised, urbane discourse, with World Quantum Day and Reddit Gold, two men, two masks behind two accounts, like an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, this, right here, right now, will be the everlasting quest. The test of the mess, quintessentially wrest, through long valleys and crests, spaced and spliced to squash and hat, the captain’s hat of New South Wales, the One Piece pirate-sailor syzygy of navigational cartography, the pleasure domes of massively irresponsible memetic names, codes, schizzflows, tropes, personal wikipedia, sticky notes, awkward anxious questions, hyperlinked (….)

Questing continues

The post below this post, “May 2021 (8)”, got it wrong. On the righthand side archives, it is clearly indicated what number SEVEN has eaten.

The three paperback books I currently have in “my” room in a psych ward are:

-> FRAGNEMT by c t r l c r e e p
-> V. by Thomas Pynchon
-> Dubliners by James Joyce

I wish I had a 4th one by https://www.urbanomic.com with me right now, and not a meagre subset of the plethora of commonplaces, notebooks, and madman’s diaries (though I do like to save and collect these too) I have kept, scribbled, jotted, scrivened in. But I don’t, all the books my parents’ money bought from The Urbanomic publishing house, are at the moment, currently, contemporaneously, this instant, hello, in a different room, incipit KATAK: HEATSEEKER INTERCEPT DEEXTFOX REMIX KATAJUNGLE DEMON DOT CO DOT UK

Haunted by the parties of the new spiritual age
The nightmarish nostalgia carries the good for nothings
a long spacetime backh
to the inception of the projects
to the remembrance of freemysons and xenofeminism
to the year of tigers
and the beginning of summer, around the 22nd of June.

May 2021 (8)

There was once:
-> a story by Nemo Duzsl (over at xenosystems.net)
-> a song called ‘Year of Silence’ by Crystal Castles on repeat
->the date 31st of October 2018, Halloween
->a town called Leamington Spa

and a desire to fervently write a short story belonging to the realm of “abstract horror” literature. The end product of mixing all of the four arrows above in equal proportions (25:25:25:25) was a resultant short story that could be described as incredibly abstruse, cryptic, enigmatic, and highly elusive. I have posted it on forum.icmforum.com, deleted it after some time on that portal, and replaced the deleted text with an italic “aus”, posted it on this personal wordpress website you are probably looking at right now, and eventually put it on private, such that there exists — thanks to wordpress.com’s archives — the possibility for me to replace the post kind from “private” to “public”.

A lot has — undoubtedly — happened since then. My relisten of the song indicated by the second arrow is over now. The autoplay algorithm quickly provided me with a continuation, and to the traditional conformism levels of my brain, it’s a song I also remember listening to. This one’s called:

Interesting, innit?

spammaps

While “browsing the web” and “bags under eyes” are interesting expressions, the teleworking nightshifts of interesting profiles have fled the virtual realm of vociferous palindromes.

Among the crew, there were calligraphic & foreign & non-translatable characters such as Mr. Cherry, Lady LateX, Caretaker Energiovich, Cptn. Rabarbar, Rednetrab Q., and Drive Eulavnegie.

The doctors’ meeting would take place two after two, alongside strange commonplace-obsessive joys.

It took me 7 minutes to write this.

nonsense squibbing

On a 334-dimensional paranoid schizophrenic infocalyptic compass, the basis generating some topology for what’s generically termed “psychosis” scratches its head, loses the plot, and slumbers. It’s nearly 4 post meridiem, high time for a bite break, so now the question on everyone’s mind naturally becomes “Which citrus-hued ginger-aled whiskey-sprayed dessert would you prefer today: waffles or pancakes?”

Briskly, the obvious answer follows: “The Moon’s only in its first quarter. That’s a Half Moon, Master Decorum. Perhaps the question confusedly suggests a nonsensical escape plan from explosive implosions, involving a vast assortment of well-defined remixes and saccharine gimcracks. [Limerick interlude.] [Nods expressing agreement.] You will, however, be pleased to hear our respondents have unanimously reached a balanced 50:50 preference consensus on the “waffles v/xor pancakes” question, unless — and this was hastily added in squiggly handwriting —  you make your own luck.”

“The Golden Ratio,” a coarse murmur of hoodie-adorning raven-masked feasters affirms, but the youthful spirit of k-holed crafty scriveners knows how ‘headquarters’ occasionally abbreviates to “HQ”, which gives everyone a few spare seconds to quietly ponder about their personal lives and use a power napkin to apply lipstick checks of a certain shimmering lake.

The pause ends, ovens re-commence baking pastries in pre-heated pro-ovens. A trainboat horn obscurely hums through the grey mist. “A cat’s meow is phonetically approximate to ‘He had.'” a knotting nod of not yet uprooted seaweed explains, but the coral cactus replies “Stop babbling, we’ve got mournful work to do, this is no time to quit, we’ll reach the end of our endless stories in no time if we just keep quiet reflection spliced with bird chirps in trying times like these.”

The kids begin to understand how a map without an inverse starts to countdown its emergence. 11, 9, …. A function, without return, towards the sad reality of low bubblegum supplies.

“But I’m all out of!” a loud voice yelps with unimaginable velocity (but action iff reaction, while no man is an island atop a moving mountain, so the reply was “GetIn!”), but the truth is our ambiguous word chef salads already knowingly suspected how Dr. Ate Rusty(C: or How I Learned to [rest redacted by vampire hunters]:D) was ahead of the curvature all along. Amidst the noise, smoke, and mirrors, the signals best intercepted by Agent A6_H30 are obviously those of [Mesh-06] and [Mesh-14]. The following are equivalent: {Snow Angels for Fields while Flowers}, {Sand Castles without Crystal Peppers}, {Aged Diamond Rings hiding Swirling Tattoos}, {Dust Cloudism carrying Porridge}, {An octopi triple sun moon}, {Six Queens of Fundamental Elements}.

“I thought ‘Dr.’ stands for ‘Drive’!” squeaked a baby owl named Évariste smoking a two-sided pencil-rubber vape cigar with blueberry flavour blasting those nostalgic goosebumps stimulating drum and bass dancefloor bangers, but the oat loudspeakers rapidfire dim the masinofcharaeremos’s coiling stutter with one lit word: “Poise.”

Now we’re not even surprised how evenly odd the cranky equinumerousness of even & odd #s was/is/shall be tu t2o ruuu, how Izydor z Prawieku got to The Loyal Swineherd, in/out/o-bahn “rzeczy poczwórnych”, knowing about pairs such as “A-T” and “C-G”, juste comme widdershins ursprung. “Que?” asks awakened Xenu. “Don’t worry 100, this’ll only cost you 99.99!”. Pascha was Aphrodite’s 4th, and(y_c) ascension is in just under 40 days! But this margin cannot contain 10^6 Times.

“Do you recognisze the moment when you go insane?” was one question.

“Click snap,” I might’ve presently replied. “It’s easy peasy lemon squeeze to embarrass me by mere recollections, but sometimes even I don’t remember many things. More so..”

“I thought you were home…. So what now?”

“The square root of minus one is implicitly fond of witch house…. Quite!”

“So you agree this isn’t leading anywhere and we’re only going in circles?”

“Not necessarily. What pattern does ETAOINSHROL…. come from?”

“Idk, you tell me.”

“Check the league tables! It’s the reciprocal of wavelength!”

“Now you sound proof read utterly confused & gnomic, again.”

“Consider changing the music.”

“Well, eschewing the masala I can now smell, I would suggest to you, friend, to stop hanging out outside that goddamned Convenience Store. To quote the great S.L.Jackson: ‘Enough is enough! I have had it with these….”

“I would prefer not to, dear, because soon my pleading eyes will be begging for tearing up, again. Don’t worry. I’ve said it, I guess. Sorry.”

“Okay, just ‘member to behave, you know, follow some code of manners or something?”

“Agreed, reign of reins. Let’s have it.”

“I still don’t understand how fucking up comes so easy to you, though. Also, never draw on walls again.”

“Downstream the toboggan flows…. Anyway, I don’t want to worry you with these ramblings. And I don’t want to spoiler the Hotel rooftop ending either. But you’ll be happy to know the crew’s quite contained, aye!”

“Spare me, this is getting fairly trite.”

“Okay. So we’re done now?”

“Yes, but same time next week?”

“Sick, sure.”

“It’s a deal.”

Epilogue:

“But we agreed,” Quigley said, “to fight fire with fire.”
Violet nodded, and stuck her hands in her pocket, bumping up against the bread knife again. She thought of the darkness of the pit, and the scream (…)”I know we agreed,” Violet said, “but if V.F.D. really 

the heraldic rebirth of extempore

“Do you know what this is about? Be the first one to add a plot.” – a plot

**

“Arittake no yume. . . .”

A cemetery of devastation lay at the shore’s edges. The fungi were relaxedly gnawing the remains of a body, while inquisitive explorers studied the process. They still considered themselves part of the sailor’s dispatch crew affiliated to the ever-splintering cryptic Volunteer Freedom Division. It appears the information about unity’s psychopompic sprouting was conveyed by an octopus, which some suspect is itself responsible for the zygonomic rise, and hence the resultant continuation of the time cycle. “It was just something that had said itself.”

It would be unwise to ask too many questions, but the selected sample was found inked on a bottleneck:
(i) What do the terms “GoddoG”, “GoddolphinnihploddoG”, and “GodottodoG” mean to you?
(ii) Does the # of times you have used [ReDaCtEd] exceed the sum of your fingers?
(iii) Who would win in a fight: a knife, fork, or spoon?
(iv) What is this list about?

Imaginary answers were provided by an unknown first-person banter-loving podmiot liryczny, most likely received thanks to an elusive curriculum vitae’s counter-chronic commandments:
(i) Someone said “the only way to defend yourself is to attack”, so I’ll retort backh with “Project Lazarus”.
(ii) I can barely count the latter, but there’s no whole # answer for the former (an estimate upper bound could, of course, be provided, but it would depend on the measure). I don’t really see how it matters, though, Doctor. I know the sugar bowl was in Hotel Denouement….
(iii) Good old rock, thought Bart, while Lisa chose paper.
(iv) Don’t think about it, apophenia, or reborn plastic dolls. Think of the madman’s kaleidoscope, apocalyptic singularities, mellow jazz, and divinity. (for the record: anti-canon, -1<x<2022 user votes on the database as of list creation date, under construction)

Attempts at differential diagnoses of schismatic(al) activities are bound to drown in chasm. I hope my “Scraggy Psychosis”-titled review of ‘Misery Loves Company’ will be accepted.