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Day 10

......Welcome to radio station E.X.P. ... ... cshhhhrrrsssssssshh .he was a punk, she did ballet, what more...... sssssshhhhhhsss moving swiftly overnight bringing rain to western regions by the morning......

my basket of perceptions is a pant full of bullets. the combined mass of pathways plotting the past and future locus of everything ever, all seen as a whole, as a beautifully simple yet staggeringly complex picture, a different view from every perspective but instantaneously a coherent image which unbelievably makes sense. a view of linear time from the thin end. the constant shifting, shimmering nature of the image seems to be a result of infinitely bright yet immeasurably short-lived flashes of brilliant white light and heat. every time a stream of time-energy crosses another there's a flash, a bursting-into-life, a becoming.    slowing down now, zooming in, focusing all seven senses on a single sector. there's less evenness here, less parallelism, a snake pit of luminous frictionless interwoven strands, crossing and counter-crossing, and at every intersection, again, a FLASH, standing out from what is, making what is NOW. existence IS the jump between parallel destiny(s).

what is and what is more. left to it's own devices, most of the history of space through time is pretty straight forward. nothing to get excited about. but, chuck in a bit of chaos, stir things up a bit here and there and the result is ripples. disturbances in the smooth surface of reality. a universal substrate, where nothing happens - Hove on a Sunday night. everything *outside* the default blankness of what would be is what is. everything outside Hove IS existence. EXISTS :(v,i.) being exterior to the universal substrate.

the gap between the perceived and the physical. do I move as I will or do I will myself to move. is control illusionary. I think "I'm going to grab that juan and bring it here so I can take a huge toke of it and put it back to smoulder" I live the motion as I make it, I'm *aware* of my actions, or am I. am I simply aware of my intent. I'm convincing myself that I'M acting, whereas really it's just me. as I search for and then choose the next jump, the next potential for existence, I live the moment. by the time I've finished indulging in the glory of autonomy, the moment's passed and i've done whatever it was that i was going to do anyway. Awareness is the illusion of pre-living every move we make.

harmonious communication. the sensed world can only be a sliver, a hint, an abstraction of the ITness. A voice, a SHOUT, a word on a page, Jimi Hendrix doing voodoo chile (slight return) at Woodstock, the sound of your stomach groaning cos it's well past lunchtime. it's an am-dram re-enactment, a show put on one time only for an audience of one. all communication is an internal replay, mimicking the subject.

reflections in A flat. welcome to the G.U.F.F. regional qualifying for the world sofa championships 2003 (sponsored by ITYF, the british society of pedants., .in no way part of or affiliated to the society of british pedants. and tonight's first event is the ever popular and fiercely contested, Looking Blankly at a Wall With no Signs of External Movement. Some of these contestants have spent literally years in training. perfecting their art, honing their skills so that one day they can compete in the international arena and win the ultimate sofa. it's even got a fridge in it. how do they achieve this super-human state of being, what's their secret. well to answer these questions and I hope many more, is our guest commentator tonight. an individual with more sofa hours logged than anyone in the northern hemisphere. in fact the only other contemporary sitter at his level is the surprise winner of last years Australian final, Mr. Tom Morrow of Fab Furnishings in Perth who demonstrated the quality of his family business's products by remaining seated in the shop window for an amazing 485 days 22 hours. only finally rising when the batteries in the tv remote gave up. so without further guffing, let me welcome my special guest tonight, Mr Tat Embark. .. ... Mr Embark, welcome.... ... er well sorry about this, er, I think our guest has, err, well, nodded off. seems a shame to wake him, let's just get on with the show. what do they see when they're in front of The Wall, surely it can't be the same as you and I would see, there must be something more. No, you just see the wall. Oh, you're awake, well this is good news, sorry, what were you saying. you just see the wall, you see what it is, you KNOW what it is so you see what it is. not with your eyes, not outside, INSIDE, in here... in the dark spaces which we can't illuminate. where we live, where we *really* live. we live the life we expect to see. perception is a room full of mirrors. Our image of Our Own universe reflected back at US. that's why it looks perfect every time.


There's been a     change. A shift of perspective. Everything's changed and everything's stayed the same. The physical, motive, half is going about it's daily business in it's usual state - somewhere near approaching approximately co-ordinated. The half of me that makes it feel like me has disappeared down a black hole and emerged twisted up in a 26 dimensional knot. But from here I can see more, more than just the surface, more than just the here and now. Misty mysteries from the past and the future are solidifying into conceivable forms. The giant green onions, obvious.  the direction the water goes when you pull the plug in the sink, simplicity itself. brown Y-fronts with yellow piping, from here, even they seem reasonable, even they have some part to play.


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