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8r1tn3y F3rn3y-H03 : Diary-Flesh

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When an Open Protocol has existed for over Three decades, it is bound 2 have interfaces written 4 it that satisfy niches that u could Not Imagine. This year I've been playing with an IRC client called ii — among other things, on my "Oasis", my Side Laptop, where I can omit any Functionality until I can figure out how exactly I want 2 implement it (While my Desktop has a setup that Just Works). This client is extraordinarily simple; ppl when they think of Minimalist Software may still think of smth that has a Frontend & a Backend, even if the former is a TUI, but how about a client where the Frontend is essentially Absent? All it does is expose the hierarchy of "Network to #channel or User" to the UNIX filesystem: @ the bottom of this is a FIFO/pipe "in" & the channel or User Output file "out". Plaintext, the Data IRC is made of, is a Universal, Plastic material manipulable by the entirety of a Unix-like OS. A Rudimentary frontend for ii, to send data to the "in" file 1 only needs to echo "data" to it with double Chevron >> (& some while loop such as "while read -r line; do echo $line >> ", recurses so that u can send as many messages as u like); Appositely 2 view the "out" file, one just needs to call "tail -f" upon it. & already for this Basic implementation u can mirror some functionality of "more Featureful" irc clients: sed in the "tail" pipeline to ignore users, or to colorize output, & awk to print an Alert whenever someone mentions your name. Very likely u will have to Wrap everything u wanna do with your own shell scripts, but if a non-developer like me can do that Easily, Every1 can.

But if u desire smth "More", then there are independent, robust projects written for Viewing text, like Multitail, & Composing text, like Kakoune (a vim-like text editor). If you're already using programs for Other Things, u r Reusing their code to chat, & in their general feature-set may allow things that someone programming a message display or text entry field would Never think of. On my personal IRC server, I have a bot bridging certain channels of a "private" discord server (although Nothing on Discord is private or even belonging to the end user), just so I can use ii to type in them, & on my end, a single RegEx line in Multitail omits the nick of the Bot & leaves just the nicks of my friends. I cannot think of another platform offering such a depth of quality control.

& On the text-entry side, Kakoune's general Workflow of composing selections before performing actions on them is Brilliant for it. Every chat program in existence clears the message that is sent, but with a Robust set of commands for selecting arbitrary text, that would not need to happen. Mostly I have <enter> while in Insert mode Select the line, cat it out to the in-pipe in the same directory, then create a new input line. Resending any line (after having made desired Edits to them) this way is Trivial. I've thought abt introducing certain keybinds that are Filename Agnostic, so that Any file I open, a poem 4 example, is a text-entry field to my Favorite channels. Also, Tab Completion of words Already in the file, is configured into the editor By Default, so typing gets faster the More u Do it.

Unfortunately, IRC is considered Dead & used only by ppl Soon to be, So I do not get to use this Bespoke arrangement of programs as often as I want to. Proprietary social media platforms have the Crutch of Social Magnetism: no matter how Shittily the app is coded, the focus is not on the code but on the People using it. So many amazing ppl are stuck using Software that Only Gets Worse, because most of them would have to Decide to move somewhere else @ Once. The software I use only gets better, because it is Free, Open, Simple, & Extensible, but I couldn't configure it Overnight. It seems once Discord falls, two apps I know of may be there to Immediately rescue its Userbase & a new revolution in the Enshittification Cycle will begin. Even tho Matrix is an open protocol w/ all the Bells&Whistles, I fear it won't be ready in time, since *failed to decrypt message* Oops, Sorry, the server written for Self-Hosted instances within the Matrix Fediverse has had a Memory Leak . An Aside is that it probably wouldnt run anyway on the Toaster I got for free, the same Toaster i am hosting the Aforementioned IRC server, the discord bridge, a Limnoria bot, & soon a Bouncer b/c i take my Thinkpad out w/ me.

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"(Yeah) we Break up Wake up Make up With our Clothes on the Floor~" is easily the Best line off of "Bored". The beginning interjection, its Lack of lyrical utility In and of itself, creates either a String of trochees or 1 of iambs following it — or Both!, given that the result is heard as a Punchy Shouty Baroque Ambivoice. & the Articulation of that group of 3 verbs & adverbs Starts so Sharply on the beginning of a bar & by the time u hear the Preposition, you realize the entirety of the line is 3 compressed distributively: yeah-we + (break-up + wake-up + make-up)with-our-clothes-on-the-floor. "But" instead of "And" or "So" afterward Continues the hilarity. If I hadn't heard Messy Gals off of CRITICAL DAYDREAM recently, I'd wonder, which floor bsides the ones in a house, Typically have this couple's clothes, if there Is any Typicality, or whether there was some Adversarial Stripping w/in the Fight they had in the "m-m-m-m-Middle of the Store"; buuut it's more likely the reason tht Leah Kate wld have to "kick Down the Door", Decidedly more tame. But if this relationship is not merely buoyed by Amazing sex, then it has Never Ever Happened. The unknown which this song uses 2 represent any & all Turbulent Relationships the listener remembers Participating w/in or Spectating upon, is how the girl knows So Many Others b4 her — or knows any & all girls, as the Bridge/Outro generalizes (is Leah saying they aren't a girl? SOUND HTE ALARM). The only truth is that a Sustainable love is somewhere between the love-lives summarized or encapsulated by the Value Judgements of "Perfect", "Painful", "Sinful"(?), & "Fulfilling", No matter if this is what's argued in the end's Ultimatum.

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Thought process of mine Working out how Parmenidean Poetries clash w/ Algebraic Structures. I've drawn No conclusions, but that is Fine for A Diaristic Blog.

my Poetry only exists within a Magma if the Order of the Letters & Spaces Matter. I typed this next clause left to right: bad bitches rise up. But if I had typed it Backwards, it would still look the same: (b(a(d( (b(i(t(c(h(e(s( (r(i(s(e( (u(p(.)))))))))))))))))))) -- The nest of parentheses decide the Order of Binary operations which concatenate the Latter sentence into the Former.

(Some smart ppl Think that syntaxes emerge from these Orders of Concatenation, But this is only if u work from a Set of all Morphemes & Conventions in a Language, or in Other words if Language's Elementary units are that of the Morpheme & the Convention, That u cannot descend further, Say, into the Letter. If u do then perhaps u could be asked as to where a non-existant word like "bda", Objectively Fits into the rest of the clause "hcbtise reis pu". That's p boring so)

I look at that painstaking Dictation of Linearity & see Hair dressed: concealments in the brushing forward of closed parentheticals; & Eyelashes fluttering: wordless persuasions, in the more flickering arrangements. Reading of course is a Visual Practice; can the eyes wander? Complex weaves and sheaves of punctuations help Induce it, as the sentence Falls off the side of the page, crawls back from the Other. The reading itself is linear -- a serial Variorum necessarily is Not -- Especially if all at Once: Zoom out so the text is an Image; Zoom in to let it crush you. Unintuitive, yes, that Molten, unstructured Rock is the Nominal Basis 4 the Algebraic Structure without many Destructive, Ambiguating, Non-Linearizing properties . . . .

Is writing the same practice as reading? as Drawing? Imagining directives like "On a Given Space, exhaust All possibilities", "Start writing a Poem from the 'Center', Branch outward", well no matter how one Starts, the Next steps are prefigured, until the Abandonment. Of the "omnisimultaneous" work . & its haecceity is dependent on the order of Thoughts poured in to it.

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Björk & Sjón may not have realized they were channeling Tiamat, Mesopotamian Goddess of Saltwater, Spurned & defeated in the Might-is-Right Democratic Beginning of Occidental History, by Marduk in the Enuma Elish (As it ends he creates Man from his blood, & inherits fifty jobs/epithets/names, Establishing patriarchal & Precursing Monotheistic dominance for Middle Babylonia & its deep future) in Oceania, Grandstanding Anthem written for the Olympics to soothe Neoliberals all around the world, for 'We are all one race, one country, to life's mother' (Paraphrased, I certainly don't believe such). Fortunately it's not 4 any Sophistic Reason that the Optimism of Medulla as a whole is Astonishing: if we emerge from Post-Modernism having Nothing but Us, if We truly Are The World -- a claim Later made Lofty by "Important People" to Condescend to Haitians -- then We are All that we need to understand. Here a perhaps 'one-note' message portends in Poetry, Polyphony, Percussion, Portamento . . . ; Endless Complication by the chosen Form (As the Moon tossing Women & Seas silly as soon as Dimorphism) actually enervates, disquiets the public -- I am Serene, If there continues to be struggle, to love one that is Othered, at the end of Time every1 will be absolved. If. Björk, dear Soothsayer, is the Ocean still proud of us 20 years later?

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Time Warp Angels never fails 2 Start moving during the Day -- Sunset in2 Sunrise if u got it on Loop -- Take the cover for their near Perfect Precision, Messianic Moodboard. "Time Warp" is never Uttered in the song; I feel the Time Warp(s?) is Represented by the Chiptune Arpeggios that r so Fulcrum & Thesis 2 its Leverage, (Citing like Zelda Oracle of Ages SFX & Stuff, but more importantly the) Fifth motion, If that Constitutes motion more than a Necromancy, an Extension. If anything is pendulous its the Relativity of the Past to its only Future, the Present. The cynicism I hear in tone & lyric, is directed @ any1 claiming 2 live in Messianic time but are Still in Order 2 Travel 2 the Present's Future, Smth Not Existing w/o Action ("ke- ke- ke-keep it comin'"), 1 telling the 2/9. The only thing that brings me discomfort, that This Analysis is all a Cherry-Picked eisegetical piece, is the Subject confusion: "It's angels I see right through" VS "Above, I'm losing reality". Is this song a Debate between Angels Not time warping & Angels that Do?, As the arpeggios Do Not accompany the Latter line. Unsure. "There'll always be a victim of your crime", this line seems like it Doesn't know it's arguing for a Dialectics of Freedom while it Victimizes whosoever has been planted "Above". While the next line "A couple habits we learned to stay alive", posits a Pragmatics against Benevolence. & there is no Below. & it is certainly Easier 2 read this in Such a way as 2 frame the Skepticism w/in to the Wrong End.

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I

Temporal distance -- duration -- turns vertical, instants one on top of the other -- not after the other;

an armada of electrons hop skip jump uncountably many sweet textures -- they do not count; that is to say, they cannot count however -- the (logical) leap is necessary as it

is for a scarlet leaf to shake & shake & shake until "&" is a striated comma, delimiter, if falling & falling & the "&" is intersecting with itself, tensor injecting so that "May the First" is perhaps tomorrow or perhaps yesterday.

II

"Value climbs in waves", but aphorisms read the zeroth letter as uppercase & halt. Tears synthesize as the shortest form, collision patchwork & of the rotoscope sparkling explosions: the need for love coincides with raindrops that I immediately push together -- loss is a form squared away, equidistant -- & blur & blur the projection. It is the mirror that is real, with foundation, concealer, mascara, eyeliner, when a knife rotated and translated perpendicular about it starts language over.

(I can't think of a body of work other than Catherine Lamb's that better articulates that texture may follow in any direction from harmony. This sublimation of texture unto harmony would also be, like, an impossible thing without her compositions, as I think most people working with sound are, if anything towards any potential relationship between these two, articulating the converse. Just Intonation allows waveforms to kiss.)

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Currently experimenting with stanzas, inspired by other "highly even" structures in music (I can think of ICE RINK BOYS & First Timer, the latter of chief importance:), Each element finding its consequent 64 times; This answering machine eventually exiting its subdivided convolute for its own sister; these sisters revealed conjoined & in dialectic w/ the Rap Section (4 which This song is a Marvel DESPITE, it is too Bro-y, but that its backing is an entire iteration upon the 1st half is astonishing...). & allow me to be distracted by the next track "WILD"; It suggests its choreography based on how many Syllables it allocates to the body parts it demands 2 "get wild": "Shoulders" gets one syllable; hence the motion for both shoulders is to be completed at once, whatever this motion is, whereas "fingers" "& belly" are given 2-3 syllables of room for glissandic motion, distention. This piece being called WILD, a trypthong, makes me feel less crazy thinking that, and further: work that mid-dle, this syllablism only being normalized in music, yet being poetically explosive, acknowledging any-and-all symmetries and asymmetries of the body, 'mid' of course being different than 'dle' but dividing evenly. This is what we do in banal observation; This is what we do knowing more than one mirror, an even mirror to tell us What we "Rly" look like. It inspires me further to think of symmetries as always-collapsing, misreadings or Malicious fabrications -- Take any image you want and Duplicate it along an axis; asymmetry is no longer and nothing is signified in its place. A lonesome, unconsummated object is necessarily Complex... & back to First Timer, its chorus emoting "Gravity, Gravity, Gravityyyy -> HIIIIIIIIGHEEEERR-RR-RRRRR-RR-RR-RR-RRRRR-RR-RRR", Jouissant Melisma, also playing w/ symmetry: is Gravity getting higher or lessening for the body 2b such?

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The morning of the Penultimate Day of my "Staycation" I awoke w/ the Sun, @ Last after decadays Orso of sublimating Languish, shedding cloying moldy Copes & Habits, & began 2 think about Poetry, just as I Perhaps was Doing 4ever ago (Last Year?). These two images -- How i Pine to lean into them & suffocate -- &, I won't shrink them Down 2 put here -- mutually yielding in magmatic Recursion, I hope I am mentally capable of Reporting their fast-growth for a While, even as a Certain Person's return 2morrow correlates 2 a Daily Sapping of my Time & Patience...

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"Semantic satiation" does not occur so easily in Music, at least not in One by Sky Ferreira, rather every word Sung in such mantra {now, one, stop, up, oh?, [gr]ou[nd]?, [h]ear[t]?, love?}, As it is delayed from its clausal context, is translated Contiguously. This is effective 2 such circumlocutive Degree, that in the Bridge, the 'Actually Wordless' schwa Bears the semantics of what is sung Once b4 (helped by the schwa sounding beTwixt a Bunch of Common vowel sounds. the Ditziest sound: 'um', 'uh', 'huh', 'what'. a Sound 2nd Solely 2 Sibilants), aswellas possibly Any monosyllabic word consisting of a Schwa & weak consonants. "One" becoming the multitude, of others, in this way is Sublime. 'i' turns topsy-turvy to exclaim; Now is a ground-up forever. The best lyrics minimize Horizontal Motion, compounding a near-death-experience of ideation until duration's negation. 2 this aim, 'You meant the world to me' is unpacked & literalized; The artifice of womanhood alienates One to ether @ Just Shy of Escape velocity, Language all but catching up.

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Affirmations had me disappointed when H.D. reached its Eponym; that's an immediate example of Y Im weary of titles in 21C western Pop Music. I do not think bubbly escapism can be completely contained after such an opening of a set: An untitled song is not entered by telegraph but teleported w/in, It is not Poppable. The software with which I listen to music allows of me the Austerity of not knowing a title, & I believe I should use that more. Affirmations could b called Secrets, I would have thought, as affirmations are posited as such, to Life, ("new sincerities" Time & Time again Cloying w/ Cliche, as, Would it be Cliche 2 sleep or 2 breathe?). She "can't tell" them, not even to besties, because they are self-knowledge & self-applicable. Introduced in the bridge is another list of them in Flipphone Quality, which her own is thereafter posited atop, in a morbid collage as the sun-setting is given curtains, & in citational "recalibrat[ive]" contemplation the room represents the I-Shop-Therefore-I-Am of one's soul.

I am thankful that "I am building my own world"* & "I am a businesswoman[;] I'm my own / C[,] EO" do not seem to make it amongst the thematic five cursive phrases. 'Dubai is Minecraft Creative Mode IRL,' as my friends said once, 'they haven't gotten past "cockbig"' megaliths in aesthetics, (& that Java also sucks @ Garbage Collection is a coincidence that I cannot help seeing for U). It is this heuristic that lets me determine that this concrete lyric has not just 1 but 2 Embedded poems, & both by different authors — Or a hydra using hologrammar, So much for New Sincerity in this reading! My imagination of the Bridge's poem is that its ironic detachment is conveyed in Kaur-esque line-breaks, while the Verse's Poem's omission of "I'm" that would otherwise begin the 4th & 5th affirmations alike to the 3rd — as well as the isolation of "Keep repeating" by repetition transforming it from a predicate into an Imperative sentence — reads 2 me as a quaint bullet point list that wouldn't b Strange to indent however the soul directs. * in Finally linking things in this article I realize This is her Tagline on YouTube. Lol. This rly is not a Recoverable song!

@ the same time I am parsing through Picture Perfect I am revisiting Carly Rae Jepsen's Kiss, which is What this album most reminds me of, Rather than Golden Age PCM. I am on the verge of tears in the Luxury of this Free Association. "[Let Me Go]" & "Affirmations" pose questions of Identity, which is revealed hopelessly fragmented in their apocalypses. Telling [Someone] that [They] know anything is legally untenable ([They] do anything, too, just to watch her bleed), & "Curiosity" further encapsulates by two opposing interpretations of its will to "Never let [her] go"; it compels her & does not "let [her]" 'come over' (to their house, for which they have the key, not her), & This even 3rd-personed-away "Stupid Girl"'s possession is horrifically paced after the 2nd chorus, Direly does not stop informing, crashing into the verse's parallel minor, then a spontaneous high range key change, the final chorus interrupted early, crashing into minor harmonies again, staggering developemnts, at odds with the meter, these lines seem sobbed out — "Through the rain," that the sky is crying too, would be trite if it weren't a 'casual' preposition framing it as incidental, rly what All weather is. (A YouTube video by matthewmatosis comparing Va-11 Hall-a with Papers Please, contests film as objective, from the refreshing vantage to the filmic not necessarily being syzygy to the diagetic, & of video games giving film's Duration an unbelaborable 3rd-dimension [not 2 mention its obviously extra-spacial set dimension], or perhaps even the collapse of Diagesis Itself via the internet heretofore only hinted at by the increasing fidelity & availability of canned media . . . but, @ any rate remarking of the truly Incidental soundtracking of Va-11 Hall-a's events, whose dissonance or consonance by the direction of film instead would betray respectively a sardonic or melodramatic juxtaposition. Music, too, is granted weather's aloofness). — Whereas the song's incunambulence suggests a surface of indignance, to the Other, then herself 4 becoming this other. She Hopes this feeling is stabler than limerence, w/ the rhythm's dropping off less than happens later, for the prechorus' throwing-away-the-script moment, half-hearted w/ again that erratic meter there. The gnomic, simple syntactical forms of the Pop Idiom manifest in this song a self-awareness impotent & 4th-personed against the chorus' centri-fugue-al whirlwind of ambivalent love. The verses are allowed decreasing lengths, of 6, 4, 2 (the last arguably being a brief variation Of the chorus); One wonders after 0 where this lover's home is?, or where they are running if not there?, whether the lover has a home?, Has a Home that is Not her's? But Curiosity ends arbitrarily, 2 catch its breath, Lost in the streets between Everything that has been found, is home-like.

yeule's Dazies — Why r all their brilliantly written songs also Rock Band driven? — is another song with an obsessive & possessive chorus, its structure simplified being ABBBBB, foregrounding loss throughout each time-of-day's intensity, firmament eyes closing pale of slumber, opening yellow thence in death — This duality is conveyed by differing divisions of the stanza, where in twos "Kinder" is listlessly grouped with "Mental", dissonant of the past three qualifiers (altho only abt as subversive smth can be If codified as a TV Trope). But then in threes "Mental" becomes accessory to "Black [holes]" & "Black [skies], giving this unstirring presence the power & mystery of the universe — doomed from the simile "Just like you:". I think there r more colons than this, but that is My excessive love speaking. A single photon may take a thousand years to escape the fusion oven of our Sun. If it were finally poised to enter a flower, Dazies would blow all the clouds away for it (Or "Day ZZZ's", Intentional wordplay given the poem's thematic repose & idiosyncratic spelling, dreams to do so): it knows forever the afterimage of a misplaced sun on snow. I crave more songs whose choruses (particularly) are weapons, whose fade-outs seduce into extrapolation & analytic continuation (as of a Function). It's not required explicitly they fade out, As neither of these songs do so, But even more, they opine their having ended in ways other than the Dogma of Duration. With Dazies' vocal take(s) waking up from an explained daymare (you kept sleeptalking, you kept saying this:), yeule's apparent relief is unfathomable if even a 10th of mine. I don't cry because I don't consider myself an angel. Now to watch the Music Video.

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The bombast of This remix of Simple & Clean, Because of its ramshackle rhythmic syncing of the vocal samples, & of the forced structural sequencing of a Panoply of moments, (conclusively) of its amateurism, Itself Represents A Trace of having listened 2 the original, source material reflecting & bouncing inthe acoustic spaces of ears, Amplifying in the bones -- even B4 the Brain Knows, that experience, sublime -- 4 the 1st Time, That material, Making itself specific & surrendering itself to Decades of Fragmentation by recall in our Kernels of Star-Plasma.

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hyaline, a. and n. (ˈhaɪəlɪn, -aɪn) 1. ‘A sea of glass like unto crystal’ (θάλασσα ὑαλίνη, Rev. iv. 6); hence a poetic term for the smooth sea, the clear sky, or any transparent substance. 2. Anat. and Biol. a. The hyaloid membrane of the eye. b. Hyaline cartilage (see A). c. = hyaloplasm. 1864 Webster, Hyaline,..the pellucid substance in cells in process of development. spectrum of joinedness/fragmentedness which is the same as a spectrum of brightness/darkness . or the same glances upon something determine which for each it falls to, before 'reading' has occurred (-since one is allowed not to read visual art), before conclusions are drawn as to why they may fall so. w/ Gray or much of prose the eye is Not Caught; Lilith possessed me by eye contact (She may not have had eyes). I felt molten, flattened, a shard silhouette into space saturated with stardust sieved by flames. Peering over the rotunda down to that sensation still writes my body This way. She births in contracted time. Hell is the womb that was confused with the stomach. Nullity counting ever forward, I have this eviscerated text. Not complete: I want a 'page' of this shear-tossed spittle-splash tempest. Sh ca * -ll- y ou hya l aps . p re ave rr-rr e ssa bl e : bri th ng let bl aze l et, li ight cl au w sed . hya dyne bm hya cl asp , ord ai nt y : hyapen mya lieu hyaouts tst . eadh hyali . cksha : hyalet hyapl * ouded hyaclose hyavir i . cimi ll ihya ti ered , it hsk . entiern . ett cal cleft liftr es , s itu rn scalar Moon , as ky rng aff ine pri th . e gn an cn o un l . ess ab ble al l opo lypl * oid atiohya nullm ullc . eig hei gh e . igh fl st th . ch dvr . owr ry . fk ccc . ci phr twi stst ar . ry agh hhsthts h A pr . me : stird . iegh ca-ll- chic i ne en tri lsw . mb schwa . sw h one y ide hya . m ead o wsyl phl lo w bi-gi sm , tpa ck aclt bil s wa . thr hyall ob . ra , m mslu c

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It has been a While, since I finished a poem-page. 1 where I achieved Planar & Territorial semantic saturation -- Not quite Framed, Properly; Boundary quarrels @Length w/ Grapheme; 1 will see the latter infer/predict itself beyond the former, (likely GPT-2/3 will take certain Lines from the poem & continue the patternspace it careens off into, obsessed. I find text continuation Not 2b the 1st thing a Human tends to do. Our writing prompts, contrarily, r of floaty blurry Ideas. Talktotransformer's necessarily Concrete input could inspire Many Workshop Facilitators. It was mangling 2've done away w/ that necessity for ChatGPT.)

But it will not appear on this blog yet: I am Still unSure of its ,whether or not, Inclusion or Exclusion within the Last poem. Which anticipates, synopsizes it -- UnSure if it does so in A poetically Desireable way -- Hwever, it isn't Only capable of representing the Stickerbook page, described in what wld B the Earlier pages… (Writing this I have vacillated thrice; I am a Convergent Sum Machine; 1 gets Undefined Results cast under the Threat of Infinity.)

How difficult it is 2 Construct a poem is Proportional to the difficulty of its Presentation, Publication, Location. Solving the problem of the poem prefigures its double; its angular labyrinthine body Hit by light 4shadows the journey perpendicular… As such, None of my work -- though perhaps important enough to be (if friends & strangers alike attest correctly) -- is not part of any Book.

So I do Dread the Languishing inevitable w/in the hiccup lapses of Major Work, in which a smattering of Magazines seeking Innovative, Original Voices; Experimental, Unpublishable work; Interstitial Forms; are despite this found not 2 print anything. & They wld have 2b Magazines I submit to: For the amnt of work Going into my poems, they r not so Wasteful of the page. November 2019 - Present has seen an amounting of 22 of them (That is counting the Blank & Title-ing Boundaries between poems).

I spent two weeks out of Last Month Writing my way out of Hardship. Nothing Overly Complicated was done. I made 7 poems, all single-page. Half of them are OK instead of Awful, imo:

The Most utility this has provided me is Quicker material w/which 2 Practice typesetting using mom for groff, which I have Also converted my Major Oeuvre to. WYSIWYG has Killed so much of my time, Used so much of my RAM, & Clouded so much of my work w/ Ambiguity, now compared 2 the WYGIWYW (What You Get Is What You Want) of plainText Processing. That the most Robust macro set is called Mom (My Own Macros), & one is Going to Run OFF with that, with her, is a Bonus, aesthetic reason 2 use them. If u R Xtra opinionated abt how to set ur text, in ways that a Silly GUI Interface cannot Precisely Follow, I suggest Programming that shit Straight in.* Learning this process has come very Organic to me. Every shiny large button Overwhelming the display of my Dimunitive Monitors, is a Macro documented in a manual I can push 2 the side until I want 2do Smth Novel 2 my text. I am simply Too Stupid to take the entirety of an entirely feature-ridden Office Suite in @ once. *& I mean it. There is no limit 2 the pedantry u can Impose:

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Here r all the Malibu/dj lostboi "forever loops" I am aware of; Mixes w/ Scarce, "Complimentary Pamphlet" type track listing, Trance out of an air vaporizer, Trance in the lungs: 16th February 2023 forever loops; Strange World 151221 CM Mix as dj lostboi 27th November 2019 w/ dj lostboi There is no better every-night Sleep Soundtrack than a selection of United in Flames mixes, mostly including these 4...I take my sleep Very Seriously these days, & not for dreaming's sake. I don't care to remember them; it is someone else's life then & I am no Stalker, No Thing is recorded. Sleep itself gives, that I am a jag of glass returned 2 its frame; rather my body laid across an Obtuse side, is rent bloody as the fit of my encumberment is found. If only living were this aesthetically calming, crushed to blush in a seismically torn glacier melt, the stochastic swelling of crescendo waveforms -- I have not been dying more beautifully than I commission for --; crimson viscous layers into every upstairs window, curls around the contours of their opacities, which cirrus in nature, cauterize in the sunset. Corpse of every wheel, ballet girls ornate themselves around the color azure as it bruises. Ad hoc photons glue to the storm of boundaries, reluctantly aliased by subduction. And anyway, (because the burgeoning poem otherwise shall indefinitely froth out incandescent deltas of images) the purview she has is of mundane perfection too together: angelic sandpaper & cliffsides out of curbs, bricks of creek bridges, ringtone echoes in parking garages, wedding vows in undersea internet cables. My kind of news-station reporting. If only missing ASMR, that material that melts me to all that I am a resonant spine in the throes of every thing that is "going to be OK". Don't believe everything you hear. Feel it.

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It is Definitely Possible 2make Pixel Art, That is Also made of Words, by using Hex Colors. Another list That substitutes the 1 for L instead of I. Putting AABBCCDDEEFF thru a Scrabble Solver gives Hidden Gems like #BACCAE , & I just came up w/ #FAE, Which neither 1of the Hex PPL think to count, as much as #FAECE5 does . So #111111 Think I've #607710 #222222 the #5EABED #0F0F0F what rly Gets Computers Aroused . (I Would advise Not using words with Both I & L = 1 . Alternating such words reads Intuitive Enough. 10 when not posing as 'io' can be a literal Ten. 8 can B a B when not moonlighting as an 'ate', for color's sake. Words of length Less than 6 would still b Legible with Arbitrary prefix or suffix Hexadecimal Values. #4707a1 In a Pinch 12 could Represent R . It may not Look like 1 until u Rly Look @ it. #12e18a #b1eeee) In this Extended & Partitioned Alphabet, letters G-Z do not describe any color (Obviously) But what Could they Instead? Would a word made of only these letters be #transparent? &/or would they "Index out of bounds" & form the Next color, given that G = 0, H = 1 . . . U = E, V = F ? (Perhaps this 2nd Corollary wld be Difficult to translate Back in2 pixel art? But it Sure wd Make this silly marriage of Language & Color flexible, enough for both Commingled forms to be Beautiful in themselves.)

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Finally can continue This Namespace, Wherein lies my Pop-Canons (WHICH ARE QUITE LOUD BTW). It has been imperative 4 me 2 showcase Not Only the "myriad incidental complexities resulting from exponentiating sound, the inevitable yet unthinkable pattern spaces that emerge from unlimited additive synthesis", blahblahblah :P , But examples of such "Intellectual" (My tongue is Still out here), Sonic-Poetic study that, Actually Sound Good, are Aesthetically Addicting, contribute 2 the Dance Idiom from which they Plunder. & yeah Call me Narcissistic but i Literally Cannot Stop listening 2 this .

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Reporting that I've heard You're Not the One by Sky Ferreira liek Fifty Times (many of them screwed by 25%): "Dreams stay with you" could be Limerant Praise "Dreams stay with you [after waking]" and "[My] dreams stay with you" or Rejected, Upset, Regretful "Dreams stay with [me]"; This 3rd interpretation only revealed after line 4 "Seasons bring truth" is Also gnomic, & so at first only carries the positive meaning. Makes me want more Gnomix in Pop -- (In English), They are not surficial (e.g., on "had" vs "has", and so:), do conduct polysemy's -- or r they 2oo "Alt"???, Ms Ferreira's ballad could go on 4ever & cuts off, There is no formal endpoint, no lover-receptor, She is a real live wire. Self-obsessed & Self-aware & talented enuff 2 form these adjectives @ the Base, @ the Axiomatic. "{& I'm, I'm still} thinkin' about, how much i needju butchu rly want somebody el-se", "{Guess,_} You're Not The O-,--,--,--,--,--ne" (x2), metrical & stanzaic spaces packed with thought loops & mantra. The composition of this song is also psychoanalysis of it; that is what fascinates me, (I mean i've never been fascinated by Marina & the Diamonds, Halsey. pinkpantheress isSo Good though...Reason is as remarkable as You're Not the One as a breakup song. Alive rhymes with Five, & because of this, the 3 reasons delineated in this extraordinarily open letter drift out of poignance, upon a real notebook page, yeah referenced & supposed as real [Acshully She reminds me more of Post-It Notes, Fridge Magnets, disposable arbitrary placements, "corners"... the Notes App? But I don't have a smartphone, what can i really say on that?], & its crumpled at the bottom, & crossed out in crisis litmus. Then if the "Reason" is the letter, What is written in it & what is only sung? Truly an amazing plurality in Pop, w/ This kind of Materialism adjacent to Susan Howe's poetics, or Cottagecore image next to her document forest, & where the subjects of The Velvet Underground s/t lived decades ago n may Still Haunt. I heart.) & I'm thinkin about, how much Louis Aragon treats the alphabet in his "Suicide" poem "' abcdef ghijkl mnopqr stuvw xyz '" like the morphing chord progression treats Somewhere Over the Rainbow's beginning octave: as an ouroboros waxing sisyphus. The world of You're Not the One sits on walk-ups from Some to Where (during "Left unsatisfied" the chords leave unsatisfied) -- "Where" is already "Over the rainbow" when it is sung, runs Over the 1to1 correspondence of roygbiv & the major scale, is r but bolder, & (now I'm talkng abt "You're . . ." again) the "same" tonic drones throughout, an undercut hyperstacy: you hear it most exposed in the 2nd verse, where Sky is most grounded, outside in the city & alienated, put against, before "Love at 1st Sight" returns the struggle. The singer thinks The Lover should be the octave but it is the singer. I hear "Guess I'm not the one" as much as I do "Guess you're not the one". It's rly not supposed 2b ambiguous like that but I Love it. For how much you're considered, you're not in this song. In here. "You're not the [tonic]". "Guess I'm not the [tonic either]", the only reservation is a mondegreen, the only way out of Here is that point where u dont understand urself or exactly what it's saying.