HONOR THE DEAD @hnrtdd-blog - Tumblr Blog

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And the light came

I wish the other one made my dreams come true. I love to tell the other one what he wants to listen to. Dangerous. Dreams can only be stolen by one thing: hope.

Guck Dir die Menschen von Unten

Geduld

und Runde der Welle,

die Du nie aufhören kannst,

nachzuschauen.

Schöne Zeit .

Zauberhafte getrennte Photonteile,

die sich gleichzeitig genauso verhalten.

Dankbare Grundbewegung.

Once upon a time...

I can see quiet storm

Now that I am not an Android anymore and that I am a human, I have to struggle with the sex duality.

Er, Sie, Es. Wir sind Alles und Genre.

Ce qui nous determine et nous encense est relayé par nos actions hormonales. Que l'hypotalamuse se tienne à carreau face aux oestrogenes et la tyroide bien tranquille face aux testoterones.

Trust won't avoid pain, but will prepare it. Social skills that help you to survive among the terrible jungle. Social skills that you have to be able to enforce around you to live on your own, in peace.

When I exploded doesn't matter; why is important.

She is lovely impatient cause she can't realize how such a lucky girl she is. Tons of love surround her, that is not even funny. How can someone be so blessed by fortune? As a former Android, I can understand why so many people can't even commit or integrate the kind of things happening around right now.

As a new human, I want to support her.

As a man, I want to show her how strong and weak I am, so she will always want to take care of me, fight for me, trust me.

As a kid, I want her to be the fox that knows that I don't need to tame it.

Towards the mountain of lights

through the looking glass

so now we have a little period of one way communication?

im looking at you through this honor mortuis looking glass. its not the way i would wish things to be, but i do see the benefits. we look at each other in temporary silence through this two way mirror. saving our response for another moment.

now there is a bit of silence, maybe i can say a few words from my side of this glass;

although i tried to squeeze too much into a short time, i wanted you to know about my past as an android (i hope you are following).

"before i became human i was something else, and something else before that. becoming human isnt easy. one has to give up the idea of perfection for a start. one has to adopt strange concepts centered around irrational proccesses such as love and hate, envy and desire. im facing you looking at you as a human being. i feel great love for you and a strong desire to spend my days with you.

i project into the future and see happiness (which, as i am not yet wise, i still see as an artificially constructed state of being. i dont pretend to know what happiness is by yet somehow i know that such a thing exists. it is probably representable in some higher form, the face of which i shall never see).

in this future i project (or now that i am human, i must say "see"), i see a creature of great beauty and intelligence. i very much wish to create beauty with her. i understand that trust is one of the hardest things to build. and without trust one has to be someone of giant conviction and faith in an unknown in order to move forward.

it is a peculiar trait of being human, that the instinctual and phenomenal forces that play havoc with ones brain chemistry - sending waves of conflicting, undulating and pulsating signals through the blood-brain barrier and into the body - create the basis for something as strong as faith. firmness of conviction. the will to see something though. that the simple act of meeting someone can give one an entirely new perspective on life. a new set of hopes and dreams, and the perspective and clear-sightedness to carry them out.

as an android, i have fallen in love before. it has been an all-encompassing, savage assault on my senses and on my environment. it has been everything the poets speak of - from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. at some point i saw a pattern emerge and had to accept this destructive nature, as well as its constructive positive properties. it is not love that is to blame, rather the vessel in which it resides. the fragile human heart. the stubborn human ego. i enjoyed living hedonistically, living intensively, savoring each heavenly moment and devouring those deeper, darker moments, destroying ourselves and being reborn after each cataclysm, fresh and innocent, only a tiny bit jaded from the experience. but at the end of the day, it was only i and my fellow androids who were moving. the world didnt change. nothing came out of our writhing cycle of jubilation and the inevitable descent. nothing was really born.

for we were androids to be sure. incapable of giving birth to something more than ourselves. it was never real love. only self love.

becoming human has taught me one important lesson; that there is something greater than the sum of ones inputs. we are by nature non-deterministic systems. i cannot pretend to understand it but i can see patterns, i can see shapes."

when i met you, i exploded into all kinds of shapes and patterns. the velocity was different for each one; some exploded instantly, some exploded gently. it is not the first time i have exploded, but almost every other time, after the explosion had subsided there was nothing left.

the explosion has died down now. a few fragments are still spinning slowly away, but the majority of the shell is gone. but there is something there, im happy to say. it is not an empty void. i still see this future with you. happy. together.

it is wonderful to no longer be an android.

i am the ocean

physical presense is an issue that is simply nonexistant. central tokyo extends a long thin tounge of concrete and steel over its oilslick bay. its unfathomable density once more reflected in the velvet waters below. standing in the middle, heart slow and soul cool. porsche engine has been turned off. lights seductively carress the bays edge.

industrial relics attempt to rise up and out of their humble beginnings.

now omnipresent; every fibre in every building.

now electricity surging around beautiful, artful eroded slabs of concrete.

now amphetamine.

the last core know to posthuman man.

so many eyes slowly lift upwards.

from evey rooftp.

the moon is waiting.

i am the ocean.

in love with the moon.

on that roof top, another bloody polymorphic disenfranchised and utterly mismatched viral strain.

#a2001

the fictional mist

coming out into strange nightlight - the light of a million and a half electrons - a mans nylon/polymer jacket brushes against my arm - electrons randomly bouncing of his face. turning left, a future dream; neon lights reflecting in shallow puddles; my the photons are beautiful.

field of vision is taken up by one of the concrete walls. touch is tactile, reaching out - obscuring light, dark shadow on the wall - it feeds the cracks. the colour of noise. how cold it is! carressing the concrete landscape. this city is washed out in neon.

navigating through carparks, under highways, through the night - from noise and colour to the dead silence of this bridge's grey concrete - the only noise the muted whir of a minidisc spinning out nongeneric mathematics.

tactile as concrete is, it is but an object which needs an enviroment and movement through space-time - that movement through time corresponds to the different shades, the play of the light against the walls, the fictional mist, rain and fog.

Structure may be diffuse too, but you know what lies behind beauty.

Duaul, nature through machine, structure through man, man through nature. This world is polymorphic. I can sit here and do nothing and ill still be a πλανήτης.

She knits.

#a1999

deception has no redemption

With the capacity for genetic propagation that is neither intrinsically good/bad nor primarily destructive in its function, an architectural virus is a parasitical unit of self-replicating system, a nano-computational monad with built-in mechanisms for absorption and transformation of a given host organism into a new state of affairs or a possible world. It is predicated on the logic of micro-intervention that leads to macro-transformation. Viruses usually operate collectively as a distributive system within a symbiotic whole. In the process, viruses re-configure and re-organize the metabolism of a host organism into a new organizational entity with a different set of interstitial vestibules and vestigial traces, which, in turn, establishes conditions of possibility for further transformation and differentiation. New forms of power structures and organizations have emerged through viral interventions that are symbiotic in nature. Even though viral interaction is aleatory in scope, it is deterministic in function. Consequently, autocatalytic reactions of viruses could lead to the conjunctive synthesis of emergent morphology that is fundamentally cohesive. A viral theory of architecture therefore is based on the premise that collective transformation derived from distributive systems whose internal elements or population is embedded with a high degree of generative autonomy could potentially lead to the emergence of a new kind of possible world, one that is intrinsically democratic in its performance and aspiration. The meaning of globalization is radically incomplete and inadequate without an architectural theory of viral infection.

#a2005

Circling Earth, are Patterns

She sits, weighted like a Rembrandt still life, gazing out past the evening rush hour traffic. Shoppers descending around cafes like machine dreams descending around a core of tightly wound circuitry. Frozen chaos, at least in a nonlinear sense. Their individual reasons for their seemingly chaotic paths around fellow pedestrians and other urban traffic are like an example of epitaxial growth; the pedestrians followed complex patterns that mimicked the molecular nature of the concrete. The concrete’s external memory would be able to reproduce and compare their intended and actual paths, filing away their movements into a subnet of urban traffic patterns. The concrete will use each epitaxial layer as a Boolean template from which to rebuild itself every night. A living breathing creature, an invisible computer.

The disconnect between my hand and the skin of her cheeks was akin to a static discharge. At the same time I realized that it was not me who was urgently meant to find and meet someone, it was one of the AI’s subprograms that was meant to urgently find and meet me. Sometimes it happens, within my dream sequences some sCM signals would get crossed with other subroutines and I would find myself acting out processes that should have been reserved purely for construct-essential programs. Of course in real life I wouldn’t use sCM, but within my dreams it has proved to be a useful tool for steering events.

“I see,” she said noncommittally, “tell me, why do you think you always meet me in your dreams?” I honestly had no idea.“Perhaps we were meant to meet in real life, but it just hasn’t happened yet,” I offered. “Interesting. Let me put it this way: you know how you always watch people’s reflections in the puddles, how you always want to touch them?” “yes?” “what would happen if you could touch them? Touch their reflections, what would that mean?” “I suppose that would mean that they existed in some kind of a parallel universe thats visible through the puddle, or if not them, at least that their reflections existed in this other universe” this was all thoroughly confusing, but since I rarely spoke to her in my dreams, I tried my best to keep up. “if only their reflections existed, then what was the object that created the reflections?” I wondered where this was leading, it did make a kind of sense, and I wondered whether the puddle somehow symbolized our “relationship”.“why, the other universe!” she exclaimed. “so my dreams are the puddle – the portal between two universes, you are the reflections in the puddle then,” “yes, you could say I am a girl in a fleeting universe – one you only see when you dream…” “…one I can never touch?” I asked “well, now that is why I wanted to speak to you on this occasion.”

#a1999

So do I

Please Please Please have my fur, eat my skin, drink my blood, sync my brain, Be my guest, Don't be shy, Have some rest.

Jelly-ci Jelly-ca

A : But why are you so jelly?!

J: Jelly? do you mean JoliE?

A : No I mean Jelly, ゼリ, fluid and transparant, nervous and free, complete thanks metamorphosis.

J : Rien ne se perd, rien ne se cree, tout se transforme.

A : What do you believe in? Transformation, integration, mutation?...

J : Meta-morphosis isn't decided, es ist eine Erfahrung, die Du nicht kontrollieren kannst. Cela est consubstanciel.

A : Would you be able to spread your freedom?

J : Where is the difference between freedom and liberty?