Semiconscious (Intro)
Randomness Notes
Sugar Crystals fog my vision as they bounce before me like tiny rubber balls, lucent white, striking the unseen surfaces of my perception. I wanted to know where they came from and why they made my touch and taste the way it did. The I-God sensation put Time in its place and transformed Speed from a tormentor to my greatest ally. Healing became a natural creative act.

I expired from myself. For the first time in my life I could actually feel the periphery of another level of perception, a comprehension I could never hope to even understand, something far beyond the scope of human capabilities. The epiphany was in that, simply, and somehow I knew it was there. I could feel it and it felt like an old friend - it was non-verbal.
It gave me second-sight. My mind fused with fiber optic channels and in a bath of snicker bar juice and Kool-Aid light guided by quantum fields I took in cyber apocalyptic Zen games, playing off the social Adderall platforms and oxycodone headsets...pagoda's of Virtual Reality App Labyrinths, 2 for 1 testimonials, suicide filters, a girl Avatar off the computer wants to fuck me and fuck my goldfish from my childhood memories. She keeps appearing like in a Holographic porn high (with a caffeine buzz)...

HIV - Channel Junkies - the Mall's new personality modules kept the shoppers shopping. I tried on 1,000 shirts in the Max-E...

I no longer have to snort the cocaine, I had it hotwired on my brain although my mind isn't happy, it feels no pain. X and techno, live screens jumping with flesh...Car loans - DUI's - the blue screen of death from past lives - silicon graveyards and plastics and talking toys and rave Ho's doing lines and pop inhalers off the hard cocks of slumming rich kids.

The shopping weaves in sex dens, clubs, chic soirees, personality splicing, midnight virtual rock concerts with Elvis and Burger King buffets where you can buy anything including a taller more beautiful version of yourself.

Foldout skies, rolled out mall clusters enabling the shoppers to pair-up consciousness for telepathy artist-fan events and flesh catwalks.

Beeping - buzzing - hums have more meaning than words...

Too much is said about how money ruins a person and this is incorrect. It doesn't ruin, it reveals human instinct. Those that are buyers and love to buy, even love going to the grocery store to buy...the act is therapeutic, though how boring.

Sexting on the roof of a Walmart where villages of couponiers sing old rock tunes around bomb fires detailing the mumbo jumbo that stretched for miles. They are now going on 7 months, awaiting the arrival of the Kill Me game channels. These new pluggers assisted the 0.2 neocortex networks. Some of these kids were going to blow their heads out due to the tissue sensitivity of the underground hotwiring to their neocortex.

A war with yourself, what's in your bank account, credit cards, points systems, shinny car, rolex orgasms, sensations down aisle 9...and it just keeps flowing like a Hallmark Card Dream...
The Culture of Revenue has now become the universal culture. It could be called a 21st Century Pop Art spin, though everything has degenerated beyond recognition so Pop Art appears to be the pinnacle of the Renaissance. Optimal experience has changed with the meaning of Time. Concentration has become an euphoric ADD plot-twister. Pot/booze/cocaine are no longer good enough, too mild, only the pharmaceutical drugs have relevance, laced with digital to give the necessary balance. Our physiology is overwhelmed, requiring a consciousness boost to keep up with the speed of light TV Time.

Adventure has been whittled down to quickie escapism like your friendly neighborhood cocktail: TV/Screens + Pot + Pills + Web Surfing + Booze + X + Texting + Facebooking…etc’s = Pill Popping Crack Consciousness. The “Crack” is the digital menashe twa of our psychic entropy; a neatly packaged existential dread (death worship), to the “I”, the glow of the screens radiating from our eyes - minds, so we can be happy forever. Psychological holocausts under the Christmas tree next to the 50% off Black Friday gifts from Walmart/Macys. As long as we can maintain a black belt in shopping we will live and be happy forever and ever.
Intelligence can only be classified as intelligent with the acceptance that one is an idiot.

What is important is not to know more, instead to be able to cut away information (passed off as knowledge), without drowning in its overdose.

Cliché emporiums are everywhere.

Separation is essential to the ego and mediocrity longs for this separation more than any other group, bringing forth the title fetish era of Esquire, Doctor, Director, Executive and Blah-Me-On careerism.

The CEO is the new supreme hero to the youth, the artist supreme, the maverick who has made it through the grinding horror of the corporate latter: the exciting wilderness of "danger and adventure".

Dynamic Conformity is the new individualism.

Intellectual jellyfish Jell-O laced in industrial sludge - a mammogram love song.

Religion is the necessary disease that is no longer necessary, though has unexpectedly become a wonderful map of our disorder. It is relevant in explaining why the disease existed so healing can truly begin.

Addicted to noise so thoughts can be blocked, a real fear, even terror to where they might lead.

“We” has always meant “I”, a landmark to our failure.

Decay should no longer be feared or denied, it is part of the poetry of Time.

TV Mind is the shadow of death reflecting long lost memories that were never as clear or beautiful as we believed they once were.
It is in Secret Language where our redemption lies, a language without words or images, only an individual belief of absolute truth that no one can penetrate or begin to understand.
News · Fetish · Nothingness
RIDICULOUS MIND ©Copyright 2018 TRANZ Media Group. All rights reserved.
By LUCIO BLANCO | June 29, 2067