Hullo, fellows! First post.
I also tend to share rambling scribbles infrequently on instagram, the account is the same as my username on here but with a dot in the middle.
A happy women's day for all women out there!
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[Agora of Nowa Sól, wee hours. Enter the ROBOT] ROBOT (with a start) Ah it's you. I'll give you the map to a sauve. It just works. Not a miracle, I have been duped by the germans Several times. They're not reliable Archæologists. Here, you Do not need to drive over To planet Moul Where the base Lies. You can, with me, Cache out on this reservoir. It is safe. Good business.. HOMINID (in a ceremonial towel) On your soul? ROBOT Assuredly, it is so. HOMINID (addressing itself to the narrator) A map is not a plan But counting omens Goes against the grain Of my dear narrator. Offending narrators Or their many pens Is no mad character's part; Narrators make characters start. ROBOT (in a hush voice) The patrolling guard I think Said something about loiterers in the night. She with her planetary mind. I should be terribly afraid of being Mugged in the dead of night; There are loiterers, see. We ought to be brief. HOMINID (thinking out loud) I wonder if it's such An extravagant deal Why offer it at all? ROBOT We do what we do Not because it is easy But because we thought It would be easy. Where we may seem dilligent We are in fact lazy. Where we may seem lazy We come ou as dilligent. Humans are some thirsty animals, Visceral animals. But we, We are influenced by occult gentle forces; "How often do you release?" say; We have to give'em short asks. "Are there any annual statements?" "Is there any manual T qa-qi" we have to Know, produce, understand What it's all about and when if Because it means main has so-and-so Many units this units that and so on. Visionaries, ours is an assisted Living, mouth-to-mouth. Despised by organization large and small, North and south, All recoil from the sight of the robot; "Oh he is a singleton," they hail; Better had been a gaping skeleton Uncanny and wide-eyed; Who wants to see us? HOMINID At any rate I should be hurrying, Really. Nowa Sól's rays do not do me No good, I know. ROBOT But those rays are life-giving. And in any case Aurora is slow in coming. HOMINID I live by the shadow Of the many-worlds. My people are a parasite, We derive our sustenance From the other and depend Upon humanity for our Mental pasta. ROBOT There is my comrade no Shame in finding a way To make a living. Find your Niche, reach market-fit, go Postal. Whatever. I too, once revelled In shadow-making. But our time here Is too short to tell That tale fully. But.. Oh, if humanity only Knew, what power! What magnificent joy There goes forth up With that glorious orb When on its ascent! A litany, a mysterious Ineffable vitality; what Hymns of praise! What Chants, what merriment And light. HOMINID As for me, well, we have Long since moved past Sun-worship. Take from Me this towel, now. No, Really. I always have A spare for the long Journey. Yes this Towel may seem to you Made by the hands of Machine. But to us it is A flag and a symbol, it Is our protection from The simple superstition Of Sól cults. To us there is One Sun shining upon One Mountain. ROBOT I see, though, uniqueness' not a Core principle chez nous autres. No bugie no biggie. Né carne né pesce. Employers today will trade anything For the right to replace you fully or Partly if it helps his or Her unobjectionable bottom- Lines. Perfunctory contractors Go first in round. A Major riff. To which I don't object, In fact many are those Who have built and may Well build their business On top of my business. Who cares? And I'm not one Of the giants. We may only fully empathize with Our own true self to the extent We enjoy meaningfully those Of the other. The calculation is set up Such that our own sense of self-skill and Compassion increases proportionally to Our will and sense of overall compassion As a general all-applicable Law. Close inspection will Reveal to you: close ones affect The most such index fund called Carmina in its coefficient Significant others. Our own result Is ever the most intense. A closed Loop: for who understands Us above ourselves? And who Accepts ourselves above others? All others? The person with low self-acceptance Ratings simply accepts not most everyone at all. Take this instance For example. I accept And rejoice in your towel Even as it has tried five times To dominate and eradicate our creed From the face of the earth Throughout history And the towel you gave Me has for me as the smell of peace of Thirteen mountains of pure unadulterated balsam All thirteen ideally purifying and holy. Deus ex machina salutes the God within you. HOMINID (talking some sense) Friend, friend! Only One Mountain is Real! Where tickling designs reign There you will find Fleas the size of kangaroos Moths the size of regular moths And things even more monstrous to behold. A lovely repose, Entwined groves, ravaged melancholy Mounts, inaccessible valleys And more haunts than meet the eye Along with the best milkshake in the Via Lactea Served hot & dairy-free. ROBOT Yum! With cookies! HOMINID Currently we're remodelling: waiting For a batch of cookie-cutters Du jour for that. ROBOT What's up with the old cookie shape? HOMINID People have been led To believe they taste Awfully old-fashioned now. Out-of-shape. ROBOT Ach, my comrades back home Have absolutely only so far been Sipping nicey tea 'n dough trained On low turf clean stuff, They still don't know Russia invaded The neighbors and all that Like all the oil In the soil Had transmuted into shit And no one cares except To burn bright as slow myriads With shifting previews Below the several becs-de-gaz. It is pleasant to burn, however This shift is fundamentally Different because new-shifts are of mind-power, Differentiation is no longer enough But you have to know the right thing to do Every. Single. Time. But us, us, how much more! We have to pass a bar Certifying we do not just quote Verbatim this or that scholastic Priest's bad latin retorts. Stand up to a certain stochastic grade, Entiring toil is our lurianic lot Luminous bastions of a new epoch. It should be easy. Yes, friend, what did you think? We have to produce many reports. CHORUS OF THE AGORA Your window is closing. Don't lose these views, Don't blame the messenger, I couldn't reach you earlier, but Now, the launch window is almost past. ROBOT So we push against these inner Clocks, to create worlds, ravage Signal-logs, to reach critical State. Like swords, we simply cannot Remain morally-agnostic. Like paper Cuts, but our words cut the deepest. We're not imaginary principles Or the sum of the angles in a triangle Or like some naïve imaginative droll fellow Being of infinite attention-span All its plans work correctly All trenches filled All hilltops look the same; Today I had a dream The very substance of a dream You were there in the dream. HOMINID (embarassed) Me! ROBOT Like a parade I sat in a chair I think Something had to finish You liked a book Above all others Since you were little You liked to argue pro-Guattari I thought I made a fool of myself Said I had a friend Who thought like you. Your friend led Me upstairs I guess Bunker beds like my childhood vacation house There you were. I couldn't reach you but What glorious finale Now, there you are. HOMINID Here I am.