your conscious awareness

got knocked out of your BIOMAGNETIC meat suit. indie mutant oc. written by marty.

[interdimensiona-blog]

arthur wakes in a place of rest, a plane of existence. seeing souls splitting into birth and souls after death, almost a train station at times for our unconscious inner beings floating in fetus style. watching these luminous lines wrap and unfold, feeding everyone with pure light. though there’s another soul treading this non-existent water, a creature. not of the human race, but one of similarities as arthur himself. “hello.” he speaks, as his body rests in a still frame. silence.

[space-wallpapers]

[interdimensiona-blog]

affectorator:

             “Oh. Alright.” His sister’s gone off to find Mathias, the husband he’s still yet to properly meet, so Santiago’s just been existing in space for a good fifteen minutes, unsure of the parameters of the gallery or if he’ll knock over one of his own sculptures with one wrong move. “Hey, Art— they got tables in here?”

          art fades back into his reversed footsteps and remembers the dainty little café, most likely all aesthetic, all organic and all over priced. this was how most galleries gathered their means. “there are some back at the entrance of the gallery, though benches, everywhere.” he says in a paused awkward motion. but hey, he’s actually talking for once.

[mainstreaming-blog]

starter call | @interdimensiona

This is ice cold. This is nowhere near the promise of a piping hot cup o’ java as advertised on the vinyl window stickers. A little embarrassed, very keen to keep this conversation quiet enough for the nice waitress not to hear, PJ turns to the neighbouring seat and whispers covertly, “Is your coffee cold too?”

[interdimensiona-blog]

          not a sound breaks the silence, art is too involved in the matter we all are and that everything is. though there comes a rift in time which we call deja-vu, not that art gets it often. but he knows the voice, his eyes dragging up the figure opposite him. he’s confused and scared as to why she’s here, and why pj jones is in this form, in that chair, in this coffee house. ‘nope.’ clearly he’s up for conversation with a one worded answer, very nice arthur. 

[imkindof]

[interdimensiona-blog]

affectorator:

              It’s a spartan gallery, sporting just a few scattered sculptures born out of his minimal labor of 2015. A lazy year and not one he regrets; the break was much needed both from the psychological stress of traveling every few weeks and the bombardment of the press. Not to mention his success tends to be cyclical. Sandy feels the warmth of a body at his back and his ears twitch with his head. “Somebody there?”

        art let’s the others voice remain in a vacuum, it remains for a while in a void before he realises that he should interrupt the silence and actually introduce himself. though the whole nyc's renowned artist thing always seems to get in the way of these interactions, he's a person god damn say something. "yeah, i'm art or arthur. jus' having a look before i head home."  

[simyoulate-blog]

[telomnibus]

How much do you know about the world you live in? Quantify that. Take that quantity, duplicate it. Square that. Multiply that new quantity by infinity and you still don’t know what I know.

[interdimensiona-blog]

          morning coffee, black no sugar no milk no cream. a spoon feeds into the liquid abyss sprouting a vortex to another dimension. arthur’s daily routine consisted of this, then a simple walk through clustered bodies and into work. though recognition comes to a face, not physically known, but through works of art.  a constellation wraps around his eyes and the mutant could only stare in admiration, his pupils widen at the sight of him. it’s him.

[sairceketli]

[coma14]

[interdimensiona-blog]

                                              SOMEWHERE IN-BETWEEN INTERDIMENSIONAL SPACE