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A Breach Through the Cosmic Veil/Records of All That Is (7-31-21)

Howdy, dearder. Ya like that, "dearder?" Ya better, ya squeeze, it's a thing now.


It is currently 3:11 PM as I initiate this entry. I have just entered the experience into me. Most of it, anyway, there's still a bit more to enter as I type this. I intend to record my experience as it washes over me like the moisture of a mountaintop cloud blown in from the sea, wrought gently across one's skin by soft sorcery.

The experience is in a mix of cream soda, Moxie, and very pulpy orange juice. When my nose enters the solo cup as I tilt to sip, it smells like some sorta strange, bitter chocolate.

Should be roundabout two hours or so before anything happens, least from what I've been told. I've covered the time on the bottom of this here Chromebook screen. My friend suggested I do, so the passing of time is more ambiguous or something. Time already passes strangely enough in my perception, anyway, so I'm eager to find out how it will feel. I think I will check the time when I first notice reactions, though, to gauge how long it took.

We are now watching a David Attenborough documentary, naturally.

How to the pelicans know to go to the lake?

I realize now that researchers don't just have immediate access to knowledge or specific things. They may have to pay and leave for certain things.

I don't think I've noticed

nevermind. the blue and white mandala tapestry is starting to spin and shimmer. it looks like jelly or something, or the surface of a vast sea. watching the water move on screen is phenomenal. water is so unique, there's nothing like it in A.T.I. The fact every living thing we know to exist needs water to survive is nothing short of remarkable.

everything, all of our human creations, are just chemical reactions pushed through little bottles. we're all tiny little plastic people dancing in our acid reflex.

the cano cristales ( i feel bad that i can't do the little swirl thing above the n ) is beautiful. the holes is the mariana plant or whatever it is called, the pink stuff.

my friend is smoking a bong and the smoke went into my mouth and became a residue against my saliva and I ate it and it was sweet and actually went down my throat.

but my throat and my saliva. it is all water. water is what is enabling my fingers to type so quickly right now. it is wetting my tendon whistles, it is the oil like in car. the tin man can't have water. oil is so different, it is the opposite of water. but it is HIS water, because he is alive but he is not flesh and bone. he is different matter but he matters because he did so much good, and he did care. he did. a lot.

there is pinkness in the air and my vision. it is getting darker now, the sun is behind a cloud.

there are many clouds out, against the great turquoise sky. their tops are great fluffy white in the sun and their bottoms are darker grey because they're hard like snow. i wonder if they are ice crystals because they are against the cold wind of the lower level pressures,,,,,,,,,

maybe ghosts are just memories. the expressions of memories. the expressions of imagination. maybe consciousness really is physical and it has to move through the world to actually see things. it is a flowing river in the sky above houses that our brains reach up to and tap into like veins, like straws reaching aaaaall the way across the room to drink your milkshake.

i am typing right now by staring at each key as i press them one at a time, only looking up if i made a mistake or if i beed meant to say need to scroll or something. they are these little squares of color with little symbols on them that we have come to associate with certain ways to express ourselves that only we know and only certain ones of us can even read them because their are so many different languages and symbols and ways to express our thoughts and feelings sand emotions and so many different symbols.

there is an eel swimming towards me against the backdrop of my mental canvas but it is not ever getting closer to me. it is hi Checkers swimming side to side but it is not moving across the plane of towards, just the plane of sideways. i hope it has good intentions and is okay and means well and all is doing all right with those it loves.

black doesn't exist it is always just a canvas for hidden rainbow colors hiding just beneath the surface and we just need to be able to look beyond the clogged veil of void to see all that untapped and trapped light.


that is something Checkers said to Mango because i think he is able to visualize the thoughts of other people, or just pick up on those signs. signs is not exactly the word i was looking for, but i was unable to locate it.

the frothing bubbles of my urination became a somber santa looking up at me in the toilet bowl as i looked down from above.

that sentence is what I had to hold clear in my mind as I walked from the bathroom to my laptop because I had to write it down and it was beck saying it in a sunny headspace like one of his songs, the constant deadpan talking that he does.

the journey to the bathroom was very difficult, i was falling and i fell and crawled bag and stetson told me not to piss on their floor but mango said she wouldn't care it is currently at this moment the segment of motion that we know as 4:40 PM on the dot and I said i wouldn't piss on their floor because "I don't want you guys to experience those smells."

the sun against my hair and the slight blurry bit of my hair i can see in my peripheral vision is making me feel like i am in some sort of meadow or florida like when i was there and i feel like these are memories of mine but they are not.

young brown haired frat men are not older, dryer, white-haired frat men, but they'll get there. they'll get their.

fish sex, right?

food scale

these are things mango has said. what she just said i couldn't tell because it wasn't a full word she was exclaiming about some cute little chain link thingy snake they have on their shelf that she's never noticed before and right now at this specific moment they are thinking of names for it and she said something about bumps on its eyeballs and then I have told them that I am writing down what they are saying and it "has to be a cute name because that's the cutest thing i've ever seen and it has to be like a robot because it is metal. i said pob and oooooooooo is a good sound because david tennant could never pronounce that mango said. and i said booper was too clogged and that it was like peanut butter. and i don't think a name has been decided on. ps and rs and bs produce cute round sounds but hard clunky letters like t and mostly t because it is the hardest letter it is like an antler or a tree.

the name decided on is Cooper, or 'coops' for short, i think he is the mascot of this journey because we have all associated with him and mango is very excited about him and he is getting a nice fresh spot to be noticeable on top of some of the cameras.

somewhere at some specific moment some lions were chasing a wildebeest and somehow through some wonder of mechanics and nature i was able to watch it happening somewhere else at a different time.

i closed my eyes and i must have been sideways in some planar orientation because there was a neon falcon of lines and i thought it was an eagle at first but i heard the calls of a peregrine falcon so i realized what it was and it would have been sideways if i had somehow shifted my perspective towards orienting to the right and across, but not any more up in this great rectangular valley between mountains that i know i've been before and i associate for some reason with that place with the trailer across from Fielder's Choice and also with Jimmy Neutron.

i need to get up and get water to enable the flow of my thoughts and then i think i'm going to take a break from typing to look at some flat surfaces and the clouds in the sky.

and i looked at the sky and then i went onto the floor between the couches and i closed my eyes and it was dark and i got the impression i was looking down on this great chasm from above because i was in a cloud that had passed across from our world into the unconscience. and there was this brilliant green display of light like a feather or a paintbrush's mark and when i turned my head to look to the up and left at checkers as he stood and it melded behind him and twisted into a swirly curl like a wire and it was like copper but neon rainbow.

i have a moose plushie now and his name is spencer and he is in little overalls and i chose him out of the options because i associated the name spencer with light blue and sharks and i thought that seemed pretty cool. and now i am thinking of light blueness and it is becoming nice chilled ice and i can see it because i am looking at a place that is happening right now somewhere in the arctic or antarctica because i am in the sun's light on the bottom of a thin but puffy cloud, and light is the medium that allows consciousness to move through All That Is.

when i closed my eyes there was a rocketship of the letter e as a face on top all within a little circle portal ring and coming up to me.

and when i say writing is a translation of mind into matter and that is so cool because thought is an intangible thing , this constant presence within and between all of us, and we manage to squeeze it into these little bottled perceptions of symbols and crystalline sound-wave spikes that we are able to recognize. and that is so fucking cool.

the vision i have of myself when i close my eyes has a smaller nose and blue glasses and he has more freckles and he has lighter brown hair than i do because he has been in the sunlight more and he also has waves of a lightish sea air plant sand green and he is so carefree and his shirt is brown like the bark of a tree or more like the soil of a taiga forest i think and it has bits of it like roundish bear ears and these words are so weird because bear and ear are pronounced very differently and those ear shaped bits are the light sandy color of lioness's fur. i was going to say pelt but pelt connotes a perspective of the material that is the skin and fur of an animal as a human item for merchandise, and i don't think that's right at all and that should not be the general and more basic way i think about those things.

there was a black swirling ink when i closed my eyes above the base purple hue and it was swirling and pulsing and it became an aqueduct and i also saw somewhere the face of an octopus man like cthuhlu but it was not that fictional being it was something else.

on these magnets stetson gave me there are different ego melds assigned to their surfaces as i perceive them, and if i turn it one way it becomes a capybara with a cute little ear and a square face and its body is a little deformed but i think that it is okay and if i turn it another way it becomes a little cute caterpillar wiorjm figure with a hunched back that is going to turn into wings and two holes that represent where his legs are going to be. they are both so cute but in reality, i know that they are just flat piece of metal.

and that is why i think the mind and imagination is so very damn special because it allows us to perceive and visualize and observe and think about and consider and wonder about things differently than the concrete structure of the Universe (ALL THAT IS) because that structure is this hard little pebble at the center of it all and it is the core of the universe, the singularity, the only reality that everything else in the universe and in our minds grows on top of and around like a fuzzy mold.

i was staring at my eyes as they were reflected into the black mirror of my phone screen and they actually weren't my eyes but see, the point is, the thing of it is that we need to realize is that it's not that there is no ego, really, there is no self, it is that the fact that such a thing exists and is able to be perceived in any way at all is so crazy and that is why every living thing is so special and there is this base muncture of meldy wombi mlastiss, abta wertunaftic pronchlatyvertosee. parqwelista cratatatatavisser vontil braktalanny sumpter vee. this is poetry but it is not poetry that is for us, y'know? maybe it's a bug language or something.

this magnet metl peese i puld off from atop the others is a sculpture of these tan stairs in some nice place with grass around it and people in white clothing near some shimmering pools of water that i've been at in my dreams and there are people looking at me and they are touching my skin and i feel like i am someone there but i am unable to connect and i am pulling out of the skull into this yellow bubbly matter and this is because i inhabit beings and characters in dreams and my mind either creates or taps into different places and there are actual people there and they have their own feelings and lives and maybe what i consider to be my basic constant structured life is just one of these dreams because they're not really mine, they all exist in this moving viewscope that puts a brighter perspective on some once in a while . and maybe i share these beingselves with other people, they're not actually me they are these pieces of mass that exist in this place and whatever the hell conscience is slips in and takes the reigns and that is what the body and self i am writing this with and live as every day is. because there is a deeper conscience that is beneath it all but the physical material matter like little specks n the outside of the filaments of my brain permeate like sediment into the self that becomes the thing for the time being while it inhabits that space.

i am going to go away and my self will be somewhere else but someday at some different time someone is going to interact with the little plastic pull-tap that i stuck beneath the little chamber overhang created by the painted wainscoating and it is cool because i know i am the only person who has ever perceived that specific little spot in any serious way and perhaps no one ever will again but it is okay because i did at this time and it doesn't matter anyway because it is selfish to think that that is what gives that little bit of matter meaning, that it is simply my interaction with it, but it kind of does because i am writing about it and, dearder, you can try and maybe visualize it or think about it in your own way, in your own minds eye and who knows, maybe you will get it perfectly right but if you do you'll just simply never know and i think that's pretty cool and i think it's pretty sweet band as much as it is neat, it's so sad and faint you see, because i don't know what it really wants to be perceived as and it had no choice but to be perceived in that certain way and maybe that was its only chance because it will never be perceived again. but that is the way it happened and as much as it may hurt to realize, we all just need to sit down and realize that is just how it's gonna be, and there's nothing we can do to change it at this point, and that is the deeper meaning behind "go with the flow" because it all was able to happen within water dropping in this dark place but the sun is shining on the water or maybe it isn't the sun it's some other source of light like god or being or a rabbitfly or myself in a cloud standing by but hidden and there is no self here to know it is being perceived, it is just happening as it is and there is so much of that happening across All That Is and we'll never know and we can only try and imagine them as they may be and there is no ego meld who will ever know it and see.

the word know (know) as it looks right here and now is like a lion or some little mole or it kinda also looks like bingus and that purple anime dragon ball cat guy because of the way the letters are shaped and i think it is this great realization but hell, it's just average everyday thoughts that each of us have but still at least it's good that i'm writing them down.

and i think in some ways that it is a little sad that there is music in my mind being generated from somewhere by something that no one else will ever hear but i can sigh in relief, like the gentle breeze on some rainforest leaf, that that's okay because the sound in this weird little synthetic natural layered void doesn't know it's so alone, so i shouldn't let myself feel too upset over this idea that it might know what it's missing out on.

it is so cool that every person has their own little thing going on here and this applies to every single person anywhere. we all just sit and want to be comfortable and to see some pretty sky in our own minds and we do and we each have these special little happy things that only we know and will ever be truly able to appreciate in such a way because they cannot be perceived by anyone else in any other way.

right now i care so much about everyone because we're all so sad a lot of the time and we just want to cry but we have other people with us to make it all feel okay, for a little while.

the woven knitted leg of this little moose stuffed animal beneath me is like a chapel or a mosque but it;s neither an its not a synagogue, people worship there but we will never meet them and know what it is called.

and it is so cool to think that mandus, dearder, and i forget what i was initially thinking but get this- i was typing "me and you" but then i was interrupted and then i went back to my computer and saw it and it gave me the time to stop and think about how it shouldn't be me and you, it has become this new word that i then realized i had to type, that is what you are reading now after this- mandus. me and us. and the me applies to me right now but dearder, as you read this, you have to apply it to yourself because we are all our own me, a segment of the greater Us.

we all perceive things in our own way and non one else will ever be able to truly experience them as we did in that moment but the best we can do is try and help them to by creating art. get is this fusion of the thing we've perceived and the things we think about. they meet and get to know each other for a while in this unconscious place that only they exist in, and then they fuze and come into the mind of the artist as something to create to help the world know itself better.

for one single moment there, thousands of people and me had one singular thing in common, and i'll never see them or know their names but that one crazy thing in that one singular moment is that at that very second, we were all biting into apples.

we're microdosing energy right now, mango said and she said "There is a finite amount of energy in the Universe, and it's a HEFTY amount." and it will run out someday but that's okay and we're trying to make the most of it while we can.

and i am the same person as i was in kindergarten but i'm not but there is some vital and eternal connection.

Thus was the writing during the experience. It is currently 12:50 AM on the first of August. Somehow, so much of this year has passed already. I've changed so much, especially recently. Especially this past day. It is a new month. I am a new me.

I don't want to write so much tonight. I'm all thought out, and tired. All I know i want to say is "Lucky" by Radiohead is a fantastic song, and every single human being should listen to the "Untitled" album by Sigur R{o}s at least once in their lives.

Watch "X-Files."

Care strongly, and hope well wishes for Mandus.

Love yourself and All That Is, dearder.

I love you.

Best regards,

Jacob (Mandus)

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