Bopkins SSRI medication

I can't wait for this to be over.

Huff, the pills, may i take em. Two a dose.

What a mess I made.

Pouring Bleach on my Epistemic Crisis

Pouring bleach down a toilet, to get rid of all the undesirables. This is the practice of doing editorials.

Aaah, punditry, the path of commitment, or of clownish pretentiousness. Gaming the attention economy, along with its feedback loops of freelance contract workers.

Such is the void/abyss, to divine in it.
So that follower list, that thing, undiscovered pouring and spring cleanings happen, unbeknowst of tiny unmeasured judgements, stuff beyond my purview right out of the grasp.

So time to be ameliorative! Time to consider both good and bad, then carry on.

Escaping the bleach titanic, cleaning everything. All this confusion, Epistemic crisis and hyperreality and all the mushy talking points, no leaders, all the silly talk, I'd have to trust a self or anatta, non-self to be proud off. All this financial computationalism in the air, it's all a malaise.

my masterfully crafted thumbnails

Or snoodles, doodles, making the way and little of life, pure play! Of the irreducible nature of our, the art to make something most divine.

They're play in the purest form, a foundherent structure of play that can lead into a set sequence of circumstances, or indeterministic orders that lead into other happenstances.

It's a moment of time, in the day, that I happen to entertain a moment of amusement for myself, then I share it, free of charge. It's free time expressed, and it's generous.

It may go away or may get bored.

Those little snippets of a quick impression, unrefined and then placed in my blog, they are what they are, and there now gone.

Shooting the messenger, descalation sensitivity

McLuhan

 Oh well, it's the media. Insensitivity and sensitivity via smaller formats and there sardines only give you sardine responses.

Pick the format, pick the innards, pick the day and through selection.

What is the content that with the circle of life with all these sensitivities are to be made for another time, coherent lines, then they spindle into many shocks.

The reporter got shot by the entertainer and here we go again

Danny Davidson > Dipper Dee

 

Iteration

Non-Infringement 

Confusion

His name is Dipper Dee now!

Because names like that come once in a while, names come and go. Another edit, another day.

Littles butters blow, Little butters explode

This journalism, well.

There was a comparison with that place compared to a containment dome, with explosions of information, I don't know if I've been on a landmine, there are people detecting and finding out.

Faffing about and finding out.

That being said..

Doing news on this is explosive.

 I'll be keeping track and investigating, providing my artistic perspective.

Debates between educationists, Technicians, and creative pundits, they all go around I tell ya.

undecidable

Indecision, something where all the things happen at once, and none of it is, tension perfected with a paradox and an oxymoron of conceptual harmony.

The unity of opposites, as they say.

Well, Dialectical tension crafted is one that is crafted well, in the mind of the beholder and then into out of the space where it all belongs.

No decision is still a decision.

Originality as commodity

What if.

This is all a panopticon for publishers to pick up people to convert into cash.

I know Michel Foucault can be dismissed.

Yet, this metaphor of social media interests me.

I hate this.

Well, Big media, urgh. Whatever tail leaves behind.

Walk away, or embrace

Oooooh its the diviner

Sayer of things

Doer of things

Singer of things

Who it divines in psych, pro-anti.

Along with that, with this thought experiment.

Not being a pick me,

Going to go with autonomy

Can't bootlick, can't commodify, will go.

Walk away, or embrace, it's now unstoppable.

( Yeah, another poem spurned by seth, well,)

(( Post-post edit, I'll still follow him even if the stance may contradict mine, it is liberal. Yeah, I'm trying my ways with journalism with Ai, anti, pro, ameliorative or exasperative. Time to jump in. ))_

Paredolia in a couch and excavator

Yeah, that's of looking at something and trying to improvise something off the fly.
I did that.
That responsibility.

Why do I believe?

Sunk Romantic traps

Romantic reactionary, into a selective trap that regressively brings us.

One within I did learn from William Shakespeare is that love is blind.

Emancipatory love and love of hate, and along with the desires of our existential love with the means of mawkish love, do all of these things prosper.

Yet love, It's all a means to understand where the sunk costs come in.

Sunk as it cannot be taken back when it's gone, or sunk as a hand on a cushion.

So here it goes, another sunk romantic wishful destiny, coming in and out with the attempt done.

authentic;artifice artification

From W.place live

I must consider the antonym that fits best, Obscurity for Clarity feels more fitting, along with now, It's time for authentic opposite and more symmetrical reasoning, if that means anything, triad or quadruple reasoning will have to rest.

What's artifice? Is it necessarily bad?

No, It's got no free will, it's only through its functionalism that we can ordain its purpose, it's not fair to treat it like an autonomous thing. I can't blame it for anything, Its responsibility is that like of electricity and energy.

It's all a tension and release. With no consciousness, the designs of the de- of the orginal users here.

Users of work schedules can be good or bad, if not personalised, it can be bad, each accordingly with the mileage that can vary.

So boop boop, or, it's something I thought with this video.

40 min, I'll have to comment on this again.

( Especially on the intrusive thoughts, as for unsolicited advice. Some good, some disagreements with the dystopian/utopian fiction, here'n there.  )

Welp, yeah, I'm doing a philosophy student again, I always go back to thinking about thinking, aren't I? I could to it all day. Meta for Clarity… Oh dear, obscurity. No wonder advertising has influence on other sites.

What all this consciousness and neural networks with Ai is showing the oddity and credibility of the chinese room experiment, so I'll go further.

clarity/obscurity

The concept obscurity, how it blocks a little mark of unknownness.
 I contrasted clarity with confusion, yet what about obscurity?
That's, a tinge, a tinge from the conversion rate/direct response of measurement, of the coarseness. That why google became a monopoly/monopsony beyond my comprehension.

Or is it a case of loneliness/alienation epidemic, atomisation, lack of holistic grasp.

The spectrum of cries, the spectrum of voids and the spectrum of the little dives and patterns that unite a little sector of the nets.

(Sometimes I merely auto-write, this is another occurrence.)

Artes mechanicae

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artes_mechanicae

With the medevil of the hackneyed methods of servicing informal groups, this of a circular pattern regarding our desires in contrast with another. That's a matter of where the swings of digital society go.

There it happens, one tip and tack and formulations and depictions collide, then cease to be.

Mechanical acting and mechanical mediocrity that happens to us till community, from outsider imaginations and then into new sectors of the net. Not contingent on the industry structuralisations and then into a new modern era of society construction.

Brick by brick, together, upwards.

Such as with predetermined mechanizations, the arbitrary wills of wild justices. That the veil of blind romanticism of that of our modern society is to be peeked.

Libertine Bopkin and Theo

City of Brickenshire used for maps and commish.

 Maybe the businessman and the Father have something in common after all.

Freedom to be a Lech
Freedom to be a buffoon
Freedom to be a Philistine

Freedom to be a troglodyte

Freedom to be a bully
Things that aren't within the jurisdiction yet can be improvised within a moments notice. Whatever serves the occasion of all pretensions that are made.

Right to hustle

Right to swindle

Right to cheat
Right to defame

right to subvert the employee's expectations

Right to exorcise

right to vice

right to seep in

All Souls Reserved

Atavism Bopkin

 As I regress, becoming amoeba. All my industry furniture instincts reduce to a state of nothingness.

Only an executive node of blip blops, with there's now with our time.

Scratch sloops, more mean faces.

I endorse an amount of manners As these little blips, blops and dorks. That happen to manage to make it about it

Why can't I suck their inner juices?

Take and mould them into shapes?

Make them replicate faster.

flroorpr

Ascetic of Theo

How to hold pleasures back with the games, not playing with the ideas.

All the suppressions of the tide of a demon that was once held back into the oddities that don't fit within the covenant.

So that our urges, our own primal urges, for sex, for desire, for to connect with the idea of our death to our believers, they must be cast asunder.

They are down, down and down with a punishment for it.

That

never enough

 An impossible standard, concepts that can't be counted.

Never enough.
Never is a thousand walks and never in thousands of reiterations of routines, interlocking with a mise en place, that's how.
With enough time, all in sync streams want to be 24 seven television. Producers of television are leaving with their celebrities, then into influencers.

Work, anti-work. Fully automated luxuries, huh.
Never enough, the show must go on. Industrial demand for product to be for mass entertainment goes on.
So we write, perform anew.

Then we go again. Stuck in another wet day, another day.

At least, I licensed my schedule, and it's not possessed by a workaholic.

That's a no go.

Bopkin's hernia poem of pain

Nyaaaap pap ba ba boòoooooooo!

Urrgh, oh scritcheys, it's leaking out again. the yarn again. It's floopity over the plate and in the under-belly. Yoouch. Painkillers.

It slouches down and wraps around the groin like a snake and I'll use my paws to push it back up, then the trousers don't fit well.

Feels like a fatty, veiny sausage of slop that I can't get out. It drapes like a gosh darn wet yarn from squigy guts.
Suidgy sloppy flurps that burge with the squeeze of my paws, it's grouse.

Blerp it's spilling from my crotch again

*Schclcoscscsoprrprrpsroprprtppsth"

You hear that?

*Slcscsjlccscoppcspcocchschscoho*

Urhg

Fu-

( Health update: Got hernia, will get surgery for it. Thanks, I given Bopkin all its grotesqueness )