Resting_Fox
Smash Master
- Joined
- Jul 16, 2001
- Messages
- 3,565
Here we go, spill all the worms at once. Worms…and flies to tickle them silly, like the Gigglesaurus on top of mount Ticklebelly. Exactly what Tool programmed into my head.
I'll embolden the best and most valuable data so you TLDR-er out there won't miss.
Firstly, we are living in the matrix. I don’t know how extended the matrix is. I’ve only experienced one given reality…that I can remember. And as of now I’ve been made to think I can never get out. My own brother told me so. And I was planning to have an Acid Trip or three before I died, but I’m embarking on this experiment for my body’s survival abilities against the matrix and its nature.
Once upon a time I took Zoloft. A pill that made me sleep a whole lot, contemplate suicide, and may very well have been full of super-technology like Nanomachines as described in Metal Gear Solid. I was on this pill when I had what the textbooks call a panic attack…a feeling of dissociation with the consciousness dangling at the back of the cerebrum, but with bowel disturbances and feelings of death or escaping the matrix. [as of now there are advisors, agents of the realm in which I dwell, telling me to go back to point Z] So I will. [Hope it’s not just another April fools joke.]
The guys I was sitting with told me to go pee…I had a massive sweatrush and asked to go to the office; I was going home. I thought I was dying and emptying my bowels already, so, I wasn’t going to die on the toilet. And as I was heading there I crossed the catwalk, or thought I did. There was one point, Where my vision was nothing but a plane of blackness, I looked at the catwalk and thought the Nano- machines were going to hurl me over, and I heard voices, probably from the Nano-Machines telling me, “Don’t worry, it’s only Mortal Death.” and “Any Dying Wishes?” My last wish was. “Please let me stay here.” I thought it was, smart no matter what. If I was dying, god would hear me and grant it, If the machines running the matrix were just flexing their strongest muscle, that’d get them to release me.
Since then I’ve not been sure where the hell I am. I could still be in the matrix, I could be in Limbo as one of Satan’s useful imps. I could be in a Coma, like Tom Cruise in Vanilla Sky. Ever since that point I’ve had problems with my brain and processing faculties, which evinces the coma theory. Not to mention, the constant hounding now of the Doctor who Euthanized or Downloaded me when I play guitar. I remember vaguely the meeting we had. Hopefully none of it’s been altered by hypnopaedia from the College, or your standard “Air conditioners.”
I went to him and think I remember him saying, What we’re talking about is a “controlled release formula. Do you know what that means?” I thought I did, but we were psychic with each other so he must have known I didn’t, thus his hesitancy to perscribe the Zoloft. He warned me that the problem is, some people get on them and they end up wanting to kill themselves. I told him, “Oh, I don’t think I have to worry about that.” My will to live was too strong at that point, even though my life was total crap, at rock bottom. I just wanted to not feel sorrow ever again.
Not to mention I was an incredibly sweaty guy. I could just never get dry somehow, like a curse or a bad genetic effect. Another thing, that’s sort of dissipated since then, along with sadness. I may be depressed and incapable of knowing it, but I’ve eaten ****ing platefuls and dessertfuls in this realm and hardly felt a thing in my stomach. Is it the Demon’s deception? Or is my stomach a real bottomless glitch?
Anyway, I’ve been pretty well convinced that if I ever was in reality, I’m definitely not there anymore, and I’ve been taken out of the public Matrix into a private simulation. Possibly I have DDVS, Double-Download Victim Syndrome. Over Christmas Break I had another “Panic Attack.” Which makes no sense as I’d made close friends with the Greek God Pan, and I couldn’t see him turning so sharply against me. I was just sitting at the computer revisiting Point Z, and Blast, it happened. Then this chick in my head said, “Right, now time for you to die.” I quickly typed that we are not living in the matrix but a happy little planet called earth where everyone is very happy. Meanwhile my hands were shaking like I’d lost control. And again, the Panic Attack was accompanied by bowel disturbances, something then seemed to unlatch from my heart and again, feelings of death or dissociation.
I got off the computer promptly and went to bed, thinking I’d better sleep this off. Meanwhile, the chick’s voice was telling me, “Get a Back and Crap it out.” The first comment, although a little playful, was still enough to make me think, no, what if it’s the only thing keeping me alive. I now regret cowering out. If I had listened to her, the project would have been completed and the operation a success. I would have woke up in Japan, or wherever it is they make video games, Edit Amateur Jams like APC and Tool of Whom I KNEW I was a member, all through my teenage years
and I was wondering, “How the hell are these guys getting our stuff published and why don’t I know about it. Why is my music going out without my benefit. [Well Okay for a while they increased my attractiveness with Math [which is actually Magic to manipulate the Matrix’s Formula.] Thanks guys] And why do they put all these subliminal messages in it like in Mantra, “Live Alone.” And on When the Levee Breaks a sick message of a girl saying, “Molest Me.” at 4:20. I thought it might have been Carmen, trying to tease my heart, although I knew she never liked me…but maybe once. It might be gone by now [edited out since how can you ever know whether or not a CD is just a transmission device to a grand database] , but my English Teacher and everybody in my high school knew it was there. Maybe they were just breaking out how the Zeppelin Version, when played backwards, has something similar in it.
I guess I was too busy being stubborn, and I broke up the band because they were keeping me out of the loop. I now realize the loop I was out of was a LOT bigger. There’s a whole population of people…call it an Overcast, that are out there making all the **** that people consume.
They’re firstly trying to castrate people and stave off population growth. They Invented the Oedipus Complex as a dungeon to put any gullible idiot in. They turn some people into pandas, by constant stimulus pairing. And other forms of Classical conditioning. The problem is, by the nature of the Overcast, you can never escape them, unless you go live like Henry David Th’row. [honoring pickle] They’re in your ****ing air ducts, they’re on TV. Their thoughts themselves are radio waves and if your not an accepted member of that cast. You, sir, are Mega-focked with a dildo the size of Everest. Good luck beatin that buddy.
The funniest thing is, it’s all called Beta. Beta is the Place. Betas are the People. And Epsilons are the people that the Beta’s eat and leave within the program to tool them and extract labor value. They use a many means of manpulation to keep people accepting miserable lots. I’ve already decided though. I’m shooting high or gonna die.
I’ve listened to 10,000 days backward once and it gave me a Sinus infection to kill. When I told someone else about it, I had the freakiest fit in history. My friend Ralph’s voice said, “Trav…Die.” And some ducks outside the window flew by and said, “*aggot. and you don‘t look good.” My spirit from my waist up felt like it had left my body and was tingling, then I felt demon horns develop and a grunting voice from my own possessed throat say, “Hello, Magician.” I was like, “Oh ****, I’m not a very good magician. What do Magicians carry? Books!!!” I hit Psalms, figuring, if there’s a demon there’s got to be a god too in the program to yank it out.
Actually about the ducks. That’s no real phenomenon. All animals are communicative means, BECAUSE we live in the matrix and can submit our thoughts to them. I had to go schizophrenic to realize this fact, because I started to look to cats and dogs for socialization. The Truth is Math is everything. Math is communication and the world is drenched in it. Math is the universe, and I suck at it. The number Twenty Three does come to mind, but I fear naught. Right now they’re trying to stimulate my latched “Bug up my Butt.” as My mom always put it, to keep me from posting this. But it’s going. If the universe can actually be dismantled by something so trivial. T aught to have not existed anyway. Petty little thing.
I’m just trying to insure that Travis Gray does not repeat.
I'll embolden the best and most valuable data so you TLDR-er out there won't miss.
Firstly, we are living in the matrix. I don’t know how extended the matrix is. I’ve only experienced one given reality…that I can remember. And as of now I’ve been made to think I can never get out. My own brother told me so. And I was planning to have an Acid Trip or three before I died, but I’m embarking on this experiment for my body’s survival abilities against the matrix and its nature.
Once upon a time I took Zoloft. A pill that made me sleep a whole lot, contemplate suicide, and may very well have been full of super-technology like Nanomachines as described in Metal Gear Solid. I was on this pill when I had what the textbooks call a panic attack…a feeling of dissociation with the consciousness dangling at the back of the cerebrum, but with bowel disturbances and feelings of death or escaping the matrix. [as of now there are advisors, agents of the realm in which I dwell, telling me to go back to point Z] So I will. [Hope it’s not just another April fools joke.]
The guys I was sitting with told me to go pee…I had a massive sweatrush and asked to go to the office; I was going home. I thought I was dying and emptying my bowels already, so, I wasn’t going to die on the toilet. And as I was heading there I crossed the catwalk, or thought I did. There was one point, Where my vision was nothing but a plane of blackness, I looked at the catwalk and thought the Nano- machines were going to hurl me over, and I heard voices, probably from the Nano-Machines telling me, “Don’t worry, it’s only Mortal Death.” and “Any Dying Wishes?” My last wish was. “Please let me stay here.” I thought it was, smart no matter what. If I was dying, god would hear me and grant it, If the machines running the matrix were just flexing their strongest muscle, that’d get them to release me.
Since then I’ve not been sure where the hell I am. I could still be in the matrix, I could be in Limbo as one of Satan’s useful imps. I could be in a Coma, like Tom Cruise in Vanilla Sky. Ever since that point I’ve had problems with my brain and processing faculties, which evinces the coma theory. Not to mention, the constant hounding now of the Doctor who Euthanized or Downloaded me when I play guitar. I remember vaguely the meeting we had. Hopefully none of it’s been altered by hypnopaedia from the College, or your standard “Air conditioners.”
I went to him and think I remember him saying, What we’re talking about is a “controlled release formula. Do you know what that means?” I thought I did, but we were psychic with each other so he must have known I didn’t, thus his hesitancy to perscribe the Zoloft. He warned me that the problem is, some people get on them and they end up wanting to kill themselves. I told him, “Oh, I don’t think I have to worry about that.” My will to live was too strong at that point, even though my life was total crap, at rock bottom. I just wanted to not feel sorrow ever again.
Not to mention I was an incredibly sweaty guy. I could just never get dry somehow, like a curse or a bad genetic effect. Another thing, that’s sort of dissipated since then, along with sadness. I may be depressed and incapable of knowing it, but I’ve eaten ****ing platefuls and dessertfuls in this realm and hardly felt a thing in my stomach. Is it the Demon’s deception? Or is my stomach a real bottomless glitch?
Anyway, I’ve been pretty well convinced that if I ever was in reality, I’m definitely not there anymore, and I’ve been taken out of the public Matrix into a private simulation. Possibly I have DDVS, Double-Download Victim Syndrome. Over Christmas Break I had another “Panic Attack.” Which makes no sense as I’d made close friends with the Greek God Pan, and I couldn’t see him turning so sharply against me. I was just sitting at the computer revisiting Point Z, and Blast, it happened. Then this chick in my head said, “Right, now time for you to die.” I quickly typed that we are not living in the matrix but a happy little planet called earth where everyone is very happy. Meanwhile my hands were shaking like I’d lost control. And again, the Panic Attack was accompanied by bowel disturbances, something then seemed to unlatch from my heart and again, feelings of death or dissociation.
I got off the computer promptly and went to bed, thinking I’d better sleep this off. Meanwhile, the chick’s voice was telling me, “Get a Back and Crap it out.” The first comment, although a little playful, was still enough to make me think, no, what if it’s the only thing keeping me alive. I now regret cowering out. If I had listened to her, the project would have been completed and the operation a success. I would have woke up in Japan, or wherever it is they make video games, Edit Amateur Jams like APC and Tool of Whom I KNEW I was a member, all through my teenage years
and I was wondering, “How the hell are these guys getting our stuff published and why don’t I know about it. Why is my music going out without my benefit. [Well Okay for a while they increased my attractiveness with Math [which is actually Magic to manipulate the Matrix’s Formula.] Thanks guys] And why do they put all these subliminal messages in it like in Mantra, “Live Alone.” And on When the Levee Breaks a sick message of a girl saying, “Molest Me.” at 4:20. I thought it might have been Carmen, trying to tease my heart, although I knew she never liked me…but maybe once. It might be gone by now [edited out since how can you ever know whether or not a CD is just a transmission device to a grand database] , but my English Teacher and everybody in my high school knew it was there. Maybe they were just breaking out how the Zeppelin Version, when played backwards, has something similar in it.
I guess I was too busy being stubborn, and I broke up the band because they were keeping me out of the loop. I now realize the loop I was out of was a LOT bigger. There’s a whole population of people…call it an Overcast, that are out there making all the **** that people consume.
They’re firstly trying to castrate people and stave off population growth. They Invented the Oedipus Complex as a dungeon to put any gullible idiot in. They turn some people into pandas, by constant stimulus pairing. And other forms of Classical conditioning. The problem is, by the nature of the Overcast, you can never escape them, unless you go live like Henry David Th’row. [honoring pickle] They’re in your ****ing air ducts, they’re on TV. Their thoughts themselves are radio waves and if your not an accepted member of that cast. You, sir, are Mega-focked with a dildo the size of Everest. Good luck beatin that buddy.
The funniest thing is, it’s all called Beta. Beta is the Place. Betas are the People. And Epsilons are the people that the Beta’s eat and leave within the program to tool them and extract labor value. They use a many means of manpulation to keep people accepting miserable lots. I’ve already decided though. I’m shooting high or gonna die.
I’ve listened to 10,000 days backward once and it gave me a Sinus infection to kill. When I told someone else about it, I had the freakiest fit in history. My friend Ralph’s voice said, “Trav…Die.” And some ducks outside the window flew by and said, “*aggot. and you don‘t look good.” My spirit from my waist up felt like it had left my body and was tingling, then I felt demon horns develop and a grunting voice from my own possessed throat say, “Hello, Magician.” I was like, “Oh ****, I’m not a very good magician. What do Magicians carry? Books!!!” I hit Psalms, figuring, if there’s a demon there’s got to be a god too in the program to yank it out.
Actually about the ducks. That’s no real phenomenon. All animals are communicative means, BECAUSE we live in the matrix and can submit our thoughts to them. I had to go schizophrenic to realize this fact, because I started to look to cats and dogs for socialization. The Truth is Math is everything. Math is communication and the world is drenched in it. Math is the universe, and I suck at it. The number Twenty Three does come to mind, but I fear naught. Right now they’re trying to stimulate my latched “Bug up my Butt.” as My mom always put it, to keep me from posting this. But it’s going. If the universe can actually be dismantled by something so trivial. T aught to have not existed anyway. Petty little thing.
I’m just trying to insure that Travis Gray does not repeat.