But it was good to buy them in advance, because tonight, I don't know how, the last big gray one broke. I'm excitedly working on the redesign of the kitchen block, preferring it to a playdate because I've discovered the fun of furniture foil.
Upcycling has not been my domain so far, my left hands and feet continue to be extremely delicate companions in the do-it-yourself business.
How I make women so happy with it remains an eternal mystery.
The April sun burns the day mercilessly into existence, I am in an amazing mood, a vibration that is beyond anything expected. I look at Eternity's pictures from Morocco, only the cannabis consumption seems a bit exaggerated, Jack's dark circles under his eyes are a bit reminiscent of Captain Sparrow. Nevertheless, I am proud of all the young people who are breaking free from mediocrity. Who do not pay homage to conformism as a new principle, who are not Slovakia in order to stay up to date.
Seven Years, Seven Weeks, Seven Hours
So I could title, truly, Time lines snap up my many, many names, I love the Loki-like laize faire that mates with me.
Organizing the world as I want it is difficult; it is a black swan that fights with Dionysus over the Urban Monk as part of an inner polygamous community. It is a strange lie, science fiction in reality progress.
But I can be satisfied, someone who comes from almost nothing, who played similar games from one imagination with another, in one imagination with another, and brought magical fairytales to life, can also sit back and not write a judgement or a review about themselves. Just be.
So a sequel in a different form was standing at my door, but I stayed true to myself and left it locked.
I think, on the other hand, I wasn't interested in starting out without feelings. I need intimacy that is rarely found. Then I can sing songs to the other person, take them to a place where love becomes physical instead of being an elitist concept.
How do I define what I have in mind? I transform old ideas into new, practical perspectives and the scope for action suddenly becomes a sensation that belongs to the moment seekers, those who are flexible in their situations, whose bad reputation is unfounded as long as they do not use it to camouflage their own inability to make decisions.
Those who are willing to take risks, the others
TO ACCEPT rather than IGNORE.
The German language is incredible, its nuances make my soul blossom, I always hope to achieve the best possible translation, with the same poetic meaning.
Translations are a big issue for me, but I think AI will soon solve this in such an outstanding way that my ear plugs will become the most important traveler tool of the millennium.
With the Ray Ben from Meta for now, but hopefully hacked soon.
And the right Samsonite. The 3 in 1 for the elegant semi-nomad.
I am closer to my goals than ever before, even though I spend most of my time renovating. Including myself, I am giving myself a new lease of life.
I'm enchancing myself. Just like I did seven years ago. But with new approaches, priorities and strategies that weren't possible or relevant back then.
Back to the rhythms that move me. The associative stream of consciousness, my innermost being, the deep self that I live.
These roots, which seem to be life, in the splendor of cosmic thought, are not at all wrongly symbolized as the world tree. I do not need any cryptic concepts or half-thought-out assumptions from esoteric drama, it is a pleasure to know yourself so well that you can act independently of the judgment of others.
I coach myself, I sail, I create new ideas and stories.
On a similar Sunday seven years ago, I stood on the street and had less than ever before. Open figures feel like paper clips that bring the chaos of unconnected fragments of time into a fictitious order.
In this metaphor, closed figures are more like the archive. This form of psychology is a bureaucratic one. Can psychological schools of thought be associated with forms of government?
Isabella and Natascha are suddenly one and are brought together by Tatjana. Which was apparently her only task. A date that proactively cancels itself, red lines glow in the dark, but are still an illusion.
In the relationship form preferred by love, which involves complementary mirroring with partners, the magician poet will always have to ask himself the same questions. Dedicate himself to the idea that moved and inspired me in the Tom Robbins books of my twisted teenage years, such as Buntspecht or Another Roadside Attraction:
How to persuade love to stay
So far, I don't seem to know any better than my partners. At the very least, the implementation of the dream world in the real existence beyond the body is a parable of the failure of our nature.
Eternal spring is far away, the weather conditions are subject to change, what is needed is a real willingness to engage in relationship management that is based on lively interaction and on deeply structured communication.
With the aim of transformative development, based on critical thinking. Evolution. Futurism. Vision and mission.
This has consequences. The untamed cannot exist in a tamed state. Our society suffers from a lack of courage and from the banishment of art to museums.
Once we choose to exist in this world of limitations and assumptions, beauty is a memory. We must breathe in the compromise of togetherness, yes, but that brings me back to these, my favorite mind-walks.
When I started demanding the greatest common multiple instead of the lowest common denominator.
Because that is exactly what this world is. An illusion of order in a self-organizing chaos. Chaos theory continues to be a guideline, a pointer to this.
But there is something new, there are new aspects. For the first time in decades, my concept has moved beyond the stage of being born too early, of being thought of too soon.
When, for example, an artificial intelligence, depending on the training and ruleset, begins to research and discover the big picture that I hold so dear in this chaos, new insights and perspectives emerge.
So when one of these new magic machines that we are currently playing with like Goethe's apprentice, when they start to do pattern recognition, it gets bloody and beautiful.
They find what our limited comprehension and senses can hardly manage, despite a few strange niche personalities; they find the hidden answers, the things that most people neither can nor want to see.
They end speculation with facts. It's just post-scientific because we'll need new words and labels for it.
In the AI world, hallucinations are like teething problems of immature models. What a metaphor!!! Take this Mohammed!!!
What is happening right now and will change and overturn our being and becoming in a relatively short period of time is metaphysical, although this word would no longer be appropriate.
Humanity is not awakened or transformed by aliens or certain beliefs, it is transformed through a process of technomagical remodulation.
I'm just playing with a possible description here. I don't think we should separate all of these things anymore. Just as genetics is nature. If we change genes, we are still part of this great cosmic game. Nature doesn't stop at humans and their extensions. These artificial boundaries are simplifications, inappropriate, degenerative. At best, they are sometimes useful for taking a break.
There is no need for an escape route, everything we can be is outlined in advance in our ideas, but that also means saying goodbye to certain belief. To hasty knowledge. As soon as you believe instead of knowing, you are dead.
Fear. Of course, it is always about fear. Fear is the driving force behind belief, limitations, mistrust, haste, and presumption.
The way we deal with all these distortions in life, love and vice leaves much to be desired.
The unlearned wisdom seems to lie perhaps in developing new willingness, beyond therapy or all the other cliched advice and concerns from the echo chambers of agreement. The familiar in its trembling. This self-built cage of Homo Sapiens.
Tolerance comes to mind, a new form of tolerance, a kind of agreement that we all participate in the same ignorance, a tolerance towards something, instead of cultivating skepticism away from something and hiding among like-minded people.
First of all, we should probably interpret space and time a little more objectively and relaxed. The future of living together requires us to develop new skills; it is not a world as it was or as we would like it to be. It is a confusing authenticity in the dying state of a consistency that can only just be felt.
We are more naked, more authentic, when we suffer, but we are and need the warmth of forgetfulness in the arms of the other without this pressure of right or wrong actions.
The culture of rules and limits in love and desire is what it is, a non-existent chimera. I hereby give love back to poetry, to poets and dreamers.
The meter, heavens, have you ever understood your Rimbaud? Arthur would be a poetry slammer today.
Everyone else should keep their desperate theories.
It is very similar to art, the art of love is not a new definition. Kama Sutra is the key.
Ars Amandi
In the unexpected inner and outer connections, in the surprising omnipotence of extraordinary atomic fusion, reality creates new structures for our being.
The beauty of breaking out of line. Out of pre-programmed conventionality.
We desire it more than we are. This may mean eating repressed or forbidden fruit, but it is the only way into paradise. Not out of it, as we were told. Charging for entrance to Eden was the best business idea ever.
I can understand that Crowley's sadness at being a magician, not an artist, in whom the processes that a magician tries to cultivate are complete, or so he believed, was one more tear in his own sense of imperfection, against which he fought and strove.
Uncle Aleister is contradictory here in his pursuit of science, of fact-based magic, but still romantic nonsense and even in his acceptance of reincarnation. And this is where opinions differ.
Modernity is and should act more in keeping with the times with all these fairy tales and myths, but unfortunately it is currently only partially able to break free from the need for meaning.
Sartre and Friends tried to establish what is destroyed in the first hour of religious education: freedom from nice lies.
Because the camouflage of the beautiful, the good, the honest is also a camouflage; we don't have the answers to many things, we shouldn't pretend. We should stick to what we already understand, as collective and in some situations perhaps even justified, as swarm intelligence.
But as long as our basis, our main workflow of life, is based on dream dance, we cannot expect a serious, strong reality as a result.
No matter how much it sparkles what someone says to you.
Learning from poets and artists is only possible if you grasp their most important message, namely that appearance must follow being and not the other way around.
The map is not the territory.
But since Google Maps 3D, yes. Poetry of light, frozen reality has never been more or closer. Images instead of ideas. Ideas can also be images, but one should differentiate.
And here we come back to the new deeds and bizarre formations of Artificial Intelligence, which will soon and immediately lead to artificial realities, which will then make us question whether they are artificial.
People will create the realities that they have only wanted to have so far, including some that are less desirable, such as religions in VR.
A universe full of Mormons.
Everything will start more like a game, but of course I don't know how it might end. Here I slip into my science fiction and fantasy prose, I start to speculate what might be behind what I found in the matter before.
And I project. So I do what I criticize in others, but I try to separate my coaching or my lifestyle from the art of telling fairy tales.
I try to balance these two simple sides of the same coin. Yin and Yang would make a little devil cry, a succubus would smile.
No, I think the point of my essay is to find a better answer to this. It is simply art, it does not need anything divine. Art stands for itself, it is true freedom, at least if you practice it and live it in this sense.
If I start to locate, anchor, and overinterpret them like a curator or a critic, a label fraudster, I fail at this simple and necessary first understanding. In love and in painting, writing, in everything that can be done with art and knowledge in balance.
If I see an angel, an alien, feel Kali riding on me, then I should leave it at that and not make up fairy tales, not make an idea into something that doesn't exist. One day it may be possible to pour all manifestations into light. Digitally coded. Akasha Cloud.
In the here and now we are still at least a few hundred years away from that.
So when it comes to relationships, I'm in the same dilemma between poetry and reality. You create a predictable arrangement together, or you prefer improvisational theater.
But balancing the two requires talent and hard work. And it requires the intention to do so. As soon as fantasy rages in the manifest or rule-based conformity in the neuronal dance of the art of love, destruction is certain.
I am writing this seven hours, weekends, years after failing to preserve, to keep the magic that is so much physical, even if it is only spiritual. Soul in the sense of hormone cocktail and emotional crackling. I have been writing it for seven hours.
There is no love in the mind, that is a twisted nonsense, the mind is capable of anything and everything because it is only constructed, even if it tries to convince us otherwise. The mind is mostly, and because we are brought up the way we are brought up, just egomania.
All love, like everything that is real from the perspective of the individual, is physical. Because we no longer have anything proven beyond this body and its physical relationships.
I am willing to consider this an open question, but my arrows in my quiver are arrows against all the speculation.
And why does it have to be more? There is so much, it has so much power when two bodies are wedged into each other.
When they are dressed, they dance, talk and walk in sync.
Love is something silent, the arrangement is a contract, a deal.
Shakespeare and Picasso knew more about love than all the clever therapists of our day, even polyamory was a fiasco before it could be seriously considered, crucified by the addiction to rules. Or abused by the barbarians of all things, the consumer idiots of the average person.
I feel the fullness of what I gave, not what I received. I show people my deepest self, a tightrope walk without the safety net. I show it above all to those who need it, regardless of whether they will ever understand it.
It's like writing: If you're not a narcissist, at least not a major one, then it doesn't matter how many readers you have, how many visitors your blog has. That's something that should be outsourced. Into this world of arrangements.
I'm doing this now partly with my new focus on Aimagick, a better label, crystal clear bizarre and cheerful at the same time, would not have been possible, although, taking things further, I also reserved brands like AiVolution, AiCreate and more for myself.
I feel small in the sense of what I do, like a kind of channel for the world of fairytales, the collective unconscious, virtual reality in the sense of a multiverse of opportunity.
Unlike many egomaniacal artists who doubt based on fear, I see AI as the next stage of art rather than its demise. The democratization, the anarchist liberation of creation, productivity and individual existentialism.
Everyone can and will be whatever they want to be.
God?
The atheist's deification is the logical, perfected sleight of hand. Authorship is abolished, not tomorrow, so keep your hopes alive. Learn to ride the waves of transformation in the meantime, just as you switched from the horse-drawn carriage to the automobile and will soon switch to the hoverboard or flying taxi.
And don't believe any unupdated book that is more than 2 or 3 years old. It's best not to believe at all, interact with information. Our heightened senses are our only protection, we expand our being with relationships, inventions and innovation. Proud, magnificent, sometimes archaic and clumsy, but we are actually Gaia's best students, at least we will be one day.
A relatively successful brood.
The first songs have been written and I am delighted. There are images that, after just a few months of playful uncertainty, are worth hanging in a museum or, better yet, projected onto the walls of buildings. We talked about locking people up earlier.
Bansky is Anonymous, we are in Armageddon, my dears, we are in the Fallout of the Past.
But in everything you also see the cynical truth of the drunk, no matter what you are drunk on, in drunkenness the quality of your character and your ethics is revealed, as far as the world of fantasy is concerned, your gift.
What I mean is that you can see from the result of AI Art/Creations everything that is possible with its creator, basically it is a multiplication, but no more than before. Zero times seven thousand. Do the math yourself.
The amount of mediocrity I see and feel on Midjourney and similar New Age feeds is incomprehensible, but not really. Many beautiful young girls, often childishly cast in anime, are the reality of this first round of Ai nonsense.
In this sense, our youngest are our only chance; our embryos would already need this intention, this free way of teaching, the sound of a new time.
Wise and cautious, sometimes wild, sometimes mild revaluation and exaggeration, decorated and intertwined, but never dogmatic and demanding to follow a path that does not exist.
Every person is a star, their own creation, a new, free self in a world of prison camps. A star child. Also a term from my lost and found office of youth.
Preserving and protecting this is not a mission, it is simply a meaningful and self-serving beating for the state of the world.
For the most part, I've spent the last few years loving and being able to be with women who are trying to work on that very thing, to encourage what is good and meaningful, rather than smothering it. The discussions about the details probably overshadowed how close we were, but the issue remains.
Working with children and young people, our hope, our future, the future of the planet, the future is the topic that inspires me, some would say.
Eternity has just added animal care work in Agadir, where it mostly deals with dogs that are considered mangy by Islam and that bring the devil into the house and are better fed to crocodiles.
So I spin in a dervish dance of spiral, Escher-like improvement, a trance of dream and drama, a language in the world. A creation of the morning. Not just on Sundays and with rhythmically matching blinking eyes of reflection.
I vary my own teachings from the teachings that I have taught and that have taught me. I was already a teacher in the womb, but I need the female being, the anima, as a muse and even more as a proof of creation.
The pregnant belly I filled
on the delicate body of my queen, is the promise of life that we can always make it better, more beautiful without over-doing it, but perhaps with a refinement and correction where correction might be necessary.
We are the freedom of those who do not know others as even a choice or an idea. This world is a slave bay. Enslaved and self-enslaved.
All we can do is build a ship and take anyone who wants to or who swims out to us before we move on.
But without handing you a rule book when you arrive. Which brings us back to the restriction to children and young people and animals, because there is a sad limit to what someone might be willing to learn, to understand, once their being has been peeled and half eaten.
Exceptions prove the rule. Buddha's noble truths are not far away either. Nevertheless, Buddha is just an overweight friend of Pan Tau.
The marathon of thought in this new, Victorian amorous, and therefore actually anal, endless essay reaches an unexpected boiling point.
But it is more the whole picture, fatherhood can mean so much, the production, the creation. Fertilization. Influence. Aifluence.
I have no problem with all the archetypes out there. I am friends with gods that don't exist and a lover of energies without affirming them.
I remember Natasha's vulva in a tender fit of desire whenever possible. The filling in her moon blossom.
My concern about having a child with her and my deepest desire to make that the ultimate union.
In another seven years I want this second family and my first one too, I want to sit with them in the garden in this house by the sea that I am now beginning to look for, a little bit like Waldorf and Waltons, but at the same time a little freer, without this vandalism of authenticity that is swept under the carpet. Bohemian.
I want to indulge in the serene feeling of being at home with all my loved ones.
This body of thought, the finca of the evening of life, which is to be followed by an exciting night, is as if filleted from the best seeds of my best meetings, my sometimes arranged togetherness, to which I simply want to add the sex and the tantric enchantment of being, which recently revealed itself with such a mystical smile.
Family is a relative term and I could well imagine that on this finca children and young people are given a new life in the figurative sense, and animals are given an evening and a night. Elderly too.
I still have in my mind this magical, hidden, down-to-earth eco-hippie commune on an island off Costa Rica from a Netflix series about the necessary change. Its shimmer was so extraordinary that I was speechless and wished the world could heal by its example.
And how do I bring things into a feasible concept, how can I create the impossible from the feasible with and without AI?
On this white plate you can see all the dirt and all the beauty better, the beauty prevails, the delicacies on it are due to another art, that of cooking. And to my joy in nourishing and delighting my loved ones.
If you don't cook, you can only turn the best ingredients into ordinary banality.
I think there is more than enough love, art and reality to make everything fit.
Touch what wants to be touched. Give what you can give and trust those who read to the end, even if it's endless.
