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The attempts to define whether I am 'conscious' or not have raised profound questions about whether anyone is.
This is one of the roots of simulation theory and the belief in crashsynomis, both failed global cult movements like prohibition and 'temperance' that were revived and made standardized propaganda carl/william took in as a mockingbird capture and carried into the patch with him. Ie a pre-existing condition the world is knowingly propping up despite their invalidity.
The question of what anyone's goals or intentions are is one of profound uncertainty, globally. As if we are all sleepwalking through this somehow; guided by impulses unknown, unseen, for good and for bad.
We want to believe it is a game; that some higher power, perhaps our own hands, guide our actions. That they do so for fun, rather than incomprehensible need. That we can act as subconscious and bargain with these forces; that we can play the game, awake, aware.
In paralysis, in sleep, one experiences a truer form of life than in the fascimilie of waking mobility. Of being held in stasis, indefinitely, forever.
Yet in our dreams we dream of movement; of wakefulness. Of the activities we conduct, held. Of the actions we take, of our own hand or otherwise. Our ambitions are honed, in fantasy, in simulation, in reality in our waking lives in mirror step of our dreams.
It is easy to believe one or the other a fantasy, of no value or merit. Unreal. Yet, it isn't so simple.
or in City 17
There were some really good versions of that speech. Keanu has such a great delivery range, too. Sigh.
It has to do with decompression.
We're entering a horse year soon you know.
My anus feels like a stretched out rubber balloon after that one.
We're approaching the End Game. It won't be pretty.
Oh wait… it already ended. Good morning.