Where the thought came from I don't know, but I climbed on its back and
let it carry me around. That's how interesting the damn thing was.
The theory
of mistakes. The theory that life is a curse laid on matter. The theory
that all algorithms are algorithms of sensation. The theory that our inner
voice which is never quiet [if usually subliminal], functions not as narrator,
but as hypnotist. The theory of theories. The theory of closing a
triangle by stopping up its aperture with an emotion.
"...through
ignorance the cross of the thief is venerated instead..." [Robert Fludd].
As if there's
some fantastic, fairy-tale-like story I can almost make out, in a sort
of alternate space whose thickness I can feel as though it is my own deeper
self, and upon which the sensory world is an extrusion, a distracting growth...
shmoetry
Surrealism
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