having gotten carried away.

It seems like there is an alternate reality in which most of the important Stones albums never happened. Don't ask how we know this. It's extremely unsettling to think about.

What Was Terrifying, in Retrospect.

See that. The whole point of inhabiting a rhizomic imaginary universe is to see the possibilities of ultimates. As said during a work in progress:"one begins and begins again." This message is very detailed. I'm not sure why it isn't more obvious. One might, however, find oneself in an alternate reality that is very much like the one you usually perceive, and you might not notice this shift until something doesn't fit. That moment is a real shocker.

Okay, nobody did it first because a already thought about the time travel part. I'm clever. But cartoon logic is best.

Take what you have gathered From coincidence

This invocation, Vespers. Beginning. Imagining forward because the media swirl and there lies possibility. The omens couldn't be more eloquent. Paisley and puce plaid join in ecstatic mixed prints tango. The imaginal becomes, so stock up on miracles. They're selling like hotcakes, but the supply is infinite because imagination is a self-reiterating expansion engine. In the fashion report, tin-foil hats are definitely returning this spring.

Yet Again, Cartoon Logic

Cartoon logic during a clown apocalypse requires wildly absurd evolution of cultivated insanity. It's time to put on our crazy-caps and interrogate that brain. Or not. That setting is reversible. The weather report calls for alterations and iterations of puce and paisley, or perhaps that's the fashion report. It hardly matters because mixed prints always confuse the eye. There are certainly some extraordinary trends on the Walla Walla scene this spring fever, including total camouflage technology. This is not an emergency, which constitutes an emergency. Co-incident collections underway to examine the portents which shall here be reported, as per usual, thus anchoring to a larger scheme. The soothing thing about fractal gazing is the ever-foreseen-unfolding through iterations, which is exactly why paisley was once, on these pages, declared the new black. That was some long while ago and it started with Lulu and that foray to Sugarland. This is, literally, a reiteration, because patterns- mixed prints, most especially- are being seen from Paris to Walla Walla to New York, New York to Bora Bora and Kukamunga and Timbuktu and Tasmania and all of the other chic, enchanted locales. All voices are in agreement here. Alter to alteration find and bend with the remover to remove the remover. Dance moves are really never and always a metaphor, as dance is always prescribed for its beneficial effects upon one's multi-dimensional grammar.

Evolving Sleaze Bang

"How the pills came into being, which is how the contagion got started, is the subject of many stories. The pharmaceutical giant that invented and distributed the pills is adamant that the pills are only peripherally involved in the bad behavior that exposed the sufferers of the contagion to their death-scourge.

The pills are the source of the contagion. Years of investigation in which the lead investigators were defamed and even killed for pointing out this fact, was followed by the pills in question being declared the cure for the contagion caused by the pills themselves. They even began to be marketed as prophylactic against the same contagion. Statistics are sometimes twisty. 

And then it twisted. Some people, it was maybe soon discovered, if one can be sure of this, or anything, did not fall ill from the contagion, but gained from it such a profound insight that they perceived the entire architecture of the divine and found themselves quite immune. To everything in every perceivable dimension. They became very strange. So much so that it was determined that they were crazy, which was true enough as far as that label goes. This may or may not be so. Dare you think it possible? Because the very existence of the question begs the next question. It is the question at the heart of our very existence. If the path to the divine is baked into the creamy filling at our centers, which goes by many names, but which requires the fuse of matter, then why wait in line to be scavenged rather than claiming the high-wire between the stars? That’s for the doctors to say, we suppose. Doctors of things will declare many things about it until it no longer exists. Just like they make the contagion go away with the pill that causes the contagion. 

The contagion was a marketing bonanza. It spun out from pharmaceuticals to research to media to lifestyle to nutritional supplements to medical to medical equipment to legal to financial to unbelievable shit like auto insurance and jewelry—products. Products were sold in strata such that the consumers ended up being fed right back to themselves and paying for the privilege. Whomever invented the contagion on whatever dimension it was invented; it was evil genius released into an ecosystem created of, by and for evil genius. It bit onto its own tail and swallowed. Even a harmless seeming narrative like this one might have unknowable ramifications. Maybe we’re all breaking for the door. I yelled “fire”. Who’s side am I on? 

There is a place just beyond here, just at the far horizon where they wait. The spirits. They really are mostly just waiting. “What are they waiting for,” you ask. They are waiting for God and they’re in for a very long wait in which they will actually never look behind the curtain. When you get the contagion without getting the contagion, the whole world is like the DMV. Department of Mature Vampires. It turns out that vampires are essentially bureaucrats. Just like in the movies, they are undead and live on living death. Even their God is an expression of this head bureaucrat who is in charge of a mere anteroom of existence, but rules it with an iron fist and total ambivalence and a bunch of mostly petty rules that nobody really follows but the ones who pretend to while strenuously failing take it upon themselves to enforce those very rules on others."

This evolving text has many tendrils. We're not sure whence this one writhes. 

Coded Messages

Always we strive cultivate a web of oblique messages and other stuff. For to fathom the messages and the messengers alike before choosing course, version and inversion, is a time travel thought experiment. The imprints of those experiences, rewoven, making time warp and weft, skein touching skein. The practice is to dance in dimensions. Herb the Battle Unicorn -- The Action Figure is partially understood as a medium, coded messages from the beyond, because that's what trans-dimensional creatures do and the message is also the medium. This is, in part, the reason for the entire action figure project; sending and receiving messages. We've mentioned elsewhere that the work emerges from an unbroken stream of sychronous happenings, messages and arrivals, which is an experience that can be rendered only in exceptionally multi-media format at present. The grammar of many layers of webs. Does it then, itself, dream? Materializations in Walla Walla, in the various laboratories would suggest so. Engaging your best imagination is key. Midnight radio is always on because it's always midnight somewhere. This is the message from the medium in the short term viral freakout. Evolutionary hurdles of the imagination.

Strangetides Report

Strangetides rise in the twin waters, Walla Walla. The consciousness harvesting schemes of the dark magicians will be found to be full of hijinks, built as it is with a virus at its core, the machine. What is ever-yearning, but imagination, which permeates all creation by way of the seed-light of love? Cartoon logic is a study in these wack days of strangetides incoming, so we apply oblique thought strategies that fall well outside of normal logic in order to stop the linear thought-machine of probability mind, thus opening the way for the barely imaginable, which is always good, because we have imaginations so tied to the primal mind that our main imaginal outlets, species wide, tend to be harnessed to fear and its replication. Turning some of that power toward a more miraculous result might have transcendent reverberations throughout many media. Spore, to rhizome, to spawn. Stars rejoice. Occasional redirection of imaginal castings, to the Total Improvement of Reality is the program we're running through the Medusa Recordex. The thing one must understand about memory is it has its own mirror, which is a very tricky one. What is the mirror of memory? What is the mirror of consciousness? Everything implies every other thing. So, we, at The Hermitage Glen Erin, dance. There must be some conception of roads beyond. Each thing suggests its own etheric counterpart. Boom. So very scary given what diversely abstract linguistics lie involved. This is a casting, long form. Over great distance and time.

I hope for fire- flies

Having Not Existed For So Long

??? Ice.Glow

Unfolding

Having long understood the med... puce.