Dream/Journal Yapping

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

Okay, so the election (the whole thing) has been giving me weird vibes. So I'm gonna schizobabble about the weird shit.
1) Joe Biden's replacement
I figured out 3 things about biden recently, which combined with what I already know, leads me to suspect the dem entourage poisoned/drugged the president for 4 years.
Firstly, Biden held back a ban of assault rifles other dems were psyched about, secondly, he made no effort to undo the overturning of roe v wade.
Thirdly, this video, attesting a marked improvement in cognitive ability

2) JD Vyvans & Laura Gooner
Both grifters, JD Vance referred to himself as a "never-trumper" during the 2016 election cycle. (Wonder why he went from calling trumps ideas "idiotic" and "absurd" to heckin' zased project 2025 right-hand man, cant be because he's a liar and a backstabber)
He also follows and watches shoeonhead and is married to a poojeet, definitively proving he's a gooner/porn-addict.
Laura Loomer is also a grifter, but more importantly she either is or really REALLY wants to fuck trump, I'd say BPD with a tinge of narcissism blown-out used hole.
As trumps spindoctor (I doubt she can debate her way out of a paper bag) she was responsible for the really, really poorly prepared trump in the kamala v trump debate

I like RFK because he's gonna de-fluoridate the water supply, and hope trump is going to apprentice the fuck out of these wierdos, maybe Vance can then write another meandering book about his druggie whore mother and trump le bad

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

Circumstances have forced me to cooperate with a certain person A. This person is reserved, demure to the point of selective mutism, and somehow despite that in the same position as me. The type to not even attempt making eye-contact or presenting a facsimile of response, even non-verbally A tells you nothing.
Because of this I reasoned A is either really intelligent or cunning, and I was sympathetic to his mutism.

A list of what happened roughly will follow.
1) Asks for help repeatedly when doing task. Completed behind schedule.
2) Assigned another task (testing something), doesn't communicate for 2 days.
3) Complains "It dont work", cannot vocalize why or what. Blames others.
4) After telling him off, and instructing him to do it anyway, goes mute and browses his phone while everyone else is working. I send him home.
(Reason: a condensed version of what occurred is less mired by emotion, and I present this for you to pause and think, asking yourself "What is A thinking?" of "How does A think?" really try to get into his perspective, the moment-to-moment experience of being stuck in his mind.)

Let me lead you to the conclusion I came to. First, is his mutism learned behavior? Is it advantageous? Or is it an act? It is learned, but not conscious, see point 2 and 3, where mutism has no clear advantage, and 4, where it is a defense-mechanism. It is only sporadically advantageous, which means he cannot consciously control it.
Secondly, note point 3, where he blames a colleague without any cause. Coming from anyone else this wouldn't be acceptable, but because he's demure heckin' sm0l bean, he gets to casually throw rocks at the people he's supposed to work with. Now why does he do this? -because I was prodding for answers from him, he couldn't give me the answers I was looking for, but could take the time to shit on a colleague. This isnt calculated, because then he would've thought it trough and tried to convince me it was another's fault, but he gave no reasons, thus it follows it is purely an emotional knee-jerk-reaction to being pressured.
Lastly, is limited non-verbal communication a sign of emotional blunting?

Yes, this leads to only one correct answer: A doesn't think - only feels reduced emotions. The moment-to-moment experience inside his mind is a lukewarm bath of emotion, occasionally sentences fly by with no real reasoning or thought behind them. A probably looks at the outside a tinge resentful; "they dont understand me" must be one of the thoughts steaming up from the bathwater. If the water gets too hot or cold, he cannot think anymore, and just simmers in it. A legitimate retard, failing his way upward courtesy of the sympathy of others.

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

Old dream I wrote down:

I'm eating. Breakfast? I think so. Cooked eggs but I have to pee.
A young woman is sitting next to me, my age, a totally average girl. Blonde or dark hair? Cant remember.
I ask her to keep my egg warm while I go pee.
When I return she is squatting naked on the couch, on my cooked egg.
"What are you doing?" She looks up, bent elbows pushing against her sides and tits, her wrists limp, hands hanging down.
"I'm keeping it warm." She looks proud, excited, there's a sparkle in her eye, she sways back and forth on the egg rolling it over the couch with her ass.
"Is this your fetish?" I ask. She ignores me and stares intently at the egg, on cloud nine.
Multiple eggs, in fact, bathing in them and bouncing up and down on them. To my frustration none break.
I'd expected at least one or two of them to crack, thinking to myself that its unfair, but I dont know why.
At last I get pissed off. I'm being treated with total apathy whilst those damn eggs make her giddy.
"Its so over" I think to myself "women'd rather bounce on cooked, lifeless eggs than talk to me, none will ever love me." But all I can do is watch.

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

I'm embarrassed to admit the "meet Sam Hyde"-dreams are a kind of genre.
Again, this is an old one, but I actually remember it somewhat so unlike the previous one I can elaborate.

I'm applying for my dream job working for Sam Hyde, I meet him in some office wearing a beanie and dressed like a slob. I'm wearing a suit and tie, nervous af, but he asks me only nonsense questions like "How many Hershey's bars fit into a footlong sub?"
I'm somehow accepted and introduced to the rest of his team. I'm never told what I'm supposed to do and I never really ask.

Sam Hyde and co is obsessed with an obscure, clear-blue diamond-shaped candy called "diamond ideas". No idea if that is the name of the brand or something they came up with. He attributes all his success to the candies. Showing me a compilation of his old mirror videos on a projector he turns around pointing at the screen and whispers "Every one of these was a diamond idea" Everyone in his team uses them, and after I fail miserably in a brainstorming session, I start eating them too. However, instead of having any good ideas, I just waste my time smoking outside the compound.

One day the team decides Sam Hyde cannot have a real girlfriend because of his fame and I propose that he should have a "waifu" instead. Many heated arguments later it is settled that Sam Hyde's ideal waifu is Tokio Rose because she is dead. However, Sam Hyde, unable to get some action, grows disillusioned with the idea. He proposes creating a time machine to bring her to the future, and so one corner of the studio is filled with broken TV's and microwaves, the "time-machine", and for months not much progress is made.
Then Sam Hyde calls for a sudden group meeting, in the corner an asian woman with a black eye is standing silently, looking at the floor. He proclaims the Tokio Rose project a resounding success, and that the time machine can be removed since it is no longer needed. Joeyy asks Sam why Tokio Rose has a black eye and Sam becomes very quiet. Everyone tenses up until Sam stands up, points at her and screams "That's what the marines did to her!" repeatedly, to roaring applause.
Tokio Rose is never spoken of again, and I only see her clean the floor.

One day walking around outside I hear "...maybe with these ideas this'll finally be a good show." I spy some Diamond Ideas (Tm) out of the corner of my eye and instinctively blurt out "With that many its gotta be funny at last." And turn around to see Idubbbz and Anisa. Idubbbz makes a duck face and mumbles a "yeah..." defeated, Anisa stares daggers at me. Their podcast set is on the streets of Rhode Island and I feel really bad and start apologizing. "Oh shit" I realize "that's going to be live isn't it?" "Yeah..." Idubbbz answers. "I'm so sorry." I feel genuinely bad about it, but when I get back to the compound Sam Hyde is ecstatic. Tells me I put on a "fantastic act" and that this was no doubt my first "diamond idea"- "and you can never have enough of those." He says grubbing a handful like it's precious gold. I am given a formal role, and welcomed to the team proper. What was before was just my internship, appearently. My new job is to harass Sam's competitors and targets. I do an awful job and mess up each time, and dont feel like harassing anyone, but Sam thinks its funny and that me apologizing is some 4d-chess move to make reacting violently impossible. Soon enough every single one of them hates my guts and I'm screened out and blacklisted from every event, even Joe Rogan blocks me.

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

Have you heard of this type of headline?
"In twenty years, X city will be underwater, climate research suggests."
There's an obvious problem with it, with all research like it, The Model Problem.
In this study the earth has been (computer) modeled, this model is then subjected to an increase in temperature, ergo results. The problem is that there is no 100% accurate model of reality, there are only a bunch of inferences.
"The world is determined by facts, and these being all the facts." therefore a model is incapable of determining anything: the small errors compound over time. If we take the fictional headline as an example, and assume this model is 98% accurate in predicting sea levels a year from now, then the prediction in the headline is only 66.8% accurate. How accurate are weather predictions a week from now? Because I'm willing to bet that has less assumptions than the climate model in the study.
The best example of this in action is that Al Gore documentary, which was wrong about everything.

If this was all there was to the modeling problem it would be pretty boring, but it gets worse. AI consists of nodes that process two or more inputs, then pass it onto the next node. Pretty simple, how could AI have built-in assumptions? What if it simply predicts the climate? Well, if the only processing your nodes do is addition, your model can never be trained to approximate a function more closely than a single-term taylor series, its effectively useless. The reason why climate scientists dont really use AI is because it would take as much, if not more, effort to even conceive an AI which could do that, than just programming it themselves.
The second problem has to do with the memory of a function. Mathematic functions have memory in the form of higher-order derivatives, when you know these you can make reasonable approximations based on them. However, temperature is obviously not a function of time, so any model based on the passage of time is automatically wrong.
Even if you prove temperature is a function of CO2 content, you must now model global CO2 content, to do that you need to model the entire economy. Its partial differential equations all the way down, with no way of solving any of it.

80% of "scientists" fail at basic statistics necessary to determine if their research's results are normative or not. It is no surprise the weatherman hedges no bets on the climate mere days from now, whilst so called "scientists" gaze into crystal balls like the alchemists of old.

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

Funny method of solving 3rd degree equations
so remember ax^2+bx+c=0 -> A(x+B)^2+C=0?
I have a theory any 3rd-order polynomial can be rewritten as A(x+a)^3+B(x+a)^2+C(x+a)
Ax^3+3Aax^2+3Aa^2x+Aa^3+Bx^2+2Bax+Ba^2+Cx+Ca ->
(A)x^3+(3Aa+B)x^2+(3Aa^2+2Ba+C)x+(Aa^3+Ba^2+Ca) = t(x+u)(x+v)(x+w) ((the solutions of the polynomial))
= (t)x^3 + (tw+tu+tv)x^2 + (twu+tvw+tuv)x + (tuvw)
t = A
tw+tu+tv = 3Aa+B
t(w+u+v-3a) = B
twu+tvw+tuv = 3Aa^2+2Ba+C
t(wu+vw+uv-3a^2) = 2Ba+C
t(wu+vw+uv-3a^2) = 2at(w+u+v-3a)+C
t(wu+vw+uv-3a^2) - 2at(w+u+v-3a) = C
tuvw = Aa^3+Ba^2+Ca
tuvw = ta^3+t(w+u+v-3a)a^2+(t(wu+vw+uv-3a^2) - 2at(w+u+v-3a))a
uvw = a^3 + (w+u+v-3a)a^2 - 2a^2(w+u+v-3a) + a(wu+vw+uv-3a^2)
uvw = a^3 - (w+u+v-3a)a^2 + a(wu+vw+uv-3a^2)
given t,u,v and w, there must exist 1 solution a,A,B,C
t=A
t(w+u+v-3a) = B
t(wu+vw+uv-3a^2) - 2at(w+u+v-3a) = C
uvw = a^3 - (w+u+v-3a)a^2 + a(wu+vw+uv-3a^2)
4 given, 4 variables, 4 equation -> thus it can be solved -> for any t,u,v,w theres 1 solution a,A,B,C
thus A(x+a)^3+B(x+a)^2+C(x+a) = t(x+u)(x+v)(x+w) QED

now substitution of z=x+a gives Az^3+Bz^2+Cz = 0
or z=0 \/ Az^2+Bz+C=0 which is easily solved

example: x^3+x^2+x+1 = 0
(x+1)^3 = x^3 + 3x^2 +3x + 1
(x+1)^3 -2x^2 - 2x = 0
(x+1)^3 -2(x^2+x) = 0
(x+1)^2 = x^2 + 2x +1
(x+1)^3 -2((x+1)^2 - x -1) = 0
(x+1)^3 -2((x+1)^2 - (x+1)) = 0
(x+1)^3 -2(x+1)^2 +2(x+1) = 0, z=x+1
z^3-2z^2+2z=0
z=0 \/ z^2-2z+2=0, D=(-2)^2 -4*1*2 = -4
z=0 \/ z=1+i \/ z=1-i
x+1=0 \/ x+1=1+i \/ x+1=1-i
x=-1 \/ x=i \/ x=-i

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

Weird dream I barely remember.

I was in college again and we visited some industry fair, me the boys and others I didnt know.
Among those extra's there were two black guys, one hiding a speaker in his bag and blasting black music.
I was bored so I got high (niggerweed and a lil something something) which made the fair a whole lot more interesting at least. The two niggers showed up repeatedly in the background acting real though towards normal-ass people and after some time this started to piss me off.

After the fair closed I went looking for them smoking a fresh blunt, and found them at the crosswalk right outside. I immediately started shouting insults at them crossing the road and when I got to them the one with the music started insulting me back but something was off, his niggerlips were drooping and he was looking at the ground and when I started pushing him with my shoulder, looking for a fight, there was no resistance. After a while of being a dickhead he was looking like he was about to cry even.
Then a friend grabbed me and led me away from them.

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

Unhinged rant.

For as long as I've cultivated my reason I've come no closer to the truth of the matter. All the mathematics cannot compute the rightful Order, and the essays I've written so far - well-reasoned, logically sound - do not even comprise a fraction of its' totality. It might be infinite, and I'm lost, unsure where to begin, but as logic has failed my aims because of its' partiality, I will instead elaborate on my vision of it. It is as real as any object, as is the world around you, as alive as you are expressing itself every second, and we've been trying to kill it ever since our inception. Every attempt at human civilization might be nothing more than an escape from reality into art, books, music and science, until the wind ultimately make the house of cards tumble, and each time we stack them higher, call it progress, but we only make our collapse more painful.

Somewhere I believe we can build it stronger, protecting us from our hubris, but it may be all advancement is fundamentally opposed to earth itself, compulsively trying to escape its' gravity. What else is the space program, the moonlanding, but nothing more than a distraction? Some footage, some article, total nonsense.

At the heart of the problem lie two of our dearest friends, the perpetrators of history's cadence; our morality and our faith. It is morality, who does not build but blows against the deck, and it is faith, who makes us blind to the faults in our structure. Combined in a single being, these make for a nasty person, as our council and fundaments - an utter disaster. Allow me to elaborate on the nature of this single being. Who is moral, and has total faith in these morals, can only impose them on others, unwilling to accommodate them because compromise would lessen his Good, the very core of his being. He cannot be wrong, in any case, but only you can be judged. And even if this was so and some God ordained him to be the most correct in any circumstance, would this not be arrogance? Here we would presuppose we care about objective morality, when no such thing has ever existed.

Opposed to this is the view that morality is adapted to the real world, and thus righteous. But here we confuse it for custom, which can exist with or without moral force, and more often than not, morality is utterly incapable of inoculating useful custom against subversion, because morality itself is subversive. No victory has ever been won through moral argument, it is only used as a cover after the fact, to hide the true means of success. The people who do ascribe importance to moral argument can be made to believe anything no matter how egregiously untrue, because it is right, and they are good for believing falsehood. And they who worship the moral arc of history are lead to commit worse horrors than the wildest savage.

Faith, the other temptress, is blind and silent but as corrosive as the other. We have faith in our institutions, when these violate our custom. We trust our president as he abolishes our privacy, and all the while we believe that they only act in our interest, and have none of their own. Faith not aimed at a god is no more than simple idolatry. Consult the picture of Marx hanging on your wall and pray to Ceausescu smiling next to him, sharpen your dialectical materialism with Mao, staring at the ceiling, and consider that you are no more an intellectual than the cavemen worshiping the venus of Brno. In fact, the only difference between the two may be that you are a homosexual.

I'll continue this later.

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

They are silent up on that wall, your dialectics same as your morality a schizophrenic delusion, every word remains unanswered but you insist on living with portraits of the dead, when you can masturbate just fine on your own. Will you ever leave your goddamn room? See where the rubber meets the road and cars spin donuts on the asphalt, witness the sound and fury of car engines and fire, tell me, have you smelt burned out car-brakes on a winter morning? Will you ever gather the courage to subject your ideals to Nature?

You are like Socrates, like Plato; a coward, and all I need to prove your existence and ideas are totally worthless is the slightest bit of muscle to work you to the ground and rub your face into the reality that denies your ideals. You will cower as I beat you, because the pain and bruises are far from dialectical. All you can manage is to call me immoral, go to the teacher like a little boy, but what will you tell her if I take your tongue?

See the mountain! It was always there, always the highest summit no matter how many phallic towers architects built, because their little-boy-skyscrapers cannot compare to nature's finest. Alas! they say We still haven't blocked our own view of the chiseled stone, of the silent trees, of the snowy peaks! Isn't it nature's mistake? Doesn't she know the top floor needs central heating?

So they complain from their luxury apartments, jabbing a judgemental finger at the mountain, whose inhabitants could tear them limb to limb with ease. At least they will have had central heating, when the jaws of fate grab their legs. Will they remember all that comfort when teeth pierce their flesh? For all their progress, don't they realize the mountain lions sleep above them? Don't they know the mountain remains eternal?

I've stared a lion in the face, and more than fear I felt awe for its' beauty. Every move a million manes shone gold in equatorial sun, and its' eyes looking back into me where pure, and we could speak through glances alone, but instead he stared into my soul because it had more to teach me than any philosopher.

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

Two topics today, a dream (because I had one again), and SNCA.

Dream: I was standing around in dark room with a couple of buddies, surrounding a small rectangular table with a bunch of really old walkman, wires and a mic. One tape recorder played instrumentals while the other recorded that and our rapping. It was pure garbage, complete gibberish, inhuman grunt language with occasional hints of english. Very reminiscent of hungarian. Two werent really into it, so I became a hypemen for them using brainrot like "We have to cook bro." "Show them how you skibidi/ your skibidi." "Diddle diddy" (double entendre: either 'molest diddy' or a 'song about diddling') The "we gotta cook" sorta hypeman phrases were the most common.
The reason the other two got cold feet is because we were recording 5 LP's, and none of us could rap, mix audio, create beats etc.
Room was pitch black, and nobody could see shit. After a while I realized we were putting out garbage but kept hyping them up none the less, and added a layer of industrial sounds to the instrumental with another walkman and a tape recording from a factory. I was thinking something like "It cant get much worse so adding noise might just make it better by accident." Then I roke up.

Fashion: Sometimes I draw, but more recently I've become painfully aware of how little I know about clothes. Yes, nobody cares (or should care) too much about fashion, but I'm talking about regular-ass everyday clothing. I didnt even know what a "jersey" was until recently.
So I've been reading fashion magazine as a jumping off point, and the outfits are shockingly bad. You'd expect some weirdo shit but I'm sure most randos dress better.
My main beef is the colors and patterns. Clothes dont really need patterns, except if you want to look like an optical illusion. Colors are too saturated, which ruins color combinations. I'll show a visual example.

Of course, you arent a red barn in the desert, so the clothes you wear should have a lot less RGB range than even the example. The provided color combo would still work, but the red would only really work as a tie, the blue as a T-shirt, and the brown as pants, and you'd still look extremely fruity

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

Dreamt again, a long one but I can only remember a few moments.

Starts off with Joe Biden railing against "taxpayer piggies" who he thinks do not deserve any sympathy. This transitions into him narrating a man squatting behind a chair with a naked woman sitting on it. The pair proceed to have an argument, the woman complains she "cant do this anymore" and that she's sick and tired of "it". The man, wearing a big wintercoat and obviously fat, stands up and starts screaming at her, asking her what she thought all this cost him, and that she wants to quit now it is "finally coming out". She replies "Tony, it just a chair with a hole." I then realize they were filming shit exit out of her asshole. Joe Biden rails on the guy "I can make this faggot shit family buckets with less than 1% of my presidential authority, watch this" I see the man lose his shit over a federal marijuana ban.

Scene changes to when I was in middle school, well, it isnt me, doesnt even act like me. Its dark outside, but we're still in the middle of a lesson. A crowd gathers outside with torches and everyone has to flee. The fleeing takes up the majority of the dream, and I remember very little of what comes next except that the next morning, I go to pick up my bag I left behind and discover that other than the classroom I was sitting in, all the rest has been reduced to rubble.

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

I have to leave for a while.

Despite everything, things are going badly, and I need to focus to avoid the worst. The problem is my motivation, and I suspect I have to turn to bad habits again. Toiling just to be able to keep the everyday life you despise is hard, I know that no matter how I'm ground down and used up I will never get any reward for it. Project concluded successfully? Here's another dumpsterfire for you to put out- and no, we dont pay for overtime. In that sense things feel just like highschool again, meaningless busywork, back when I wanted to kill myself. I wouldnt say that energy was bad, it certainly changed me to suit my environment better, but I dont know if having another psychotic episode right now would work out OK. Some of them noticed my drug problem back then. Worst case I could end up in jail or a mental hospital, so I either come back a different person, or not at all.

"Infinite contempt, and no less for the common man. 'Waa Woo, poor widdle taxpayer piggie! Think of the poor fuckin' piggies!' they say but they dont realize the butcher keeps the pigsty running, not the squealing piggies. Their idea of cleaning up the shit coming out one end is to eat it with the other." - Dream Joe Biden

I hate these fuckers, I hate this company, I hate these people, unbothered, scooting by on minimal effort, I hate this job, the car, the roads, the office, every part of the routine, of the meaningless rituals of eveeryday life. Dancing for rainwater has higher odds of success, fuck your cult society, nothing but wannabe magicians "influencers" "politicians" "managers", practicing sympathetic magic. "No you dont understand we have to perform the heckin' ritual so the masses repeat it!" Apes in the oval office eating chimps, nothing has changed.

"If I wuz da president, I'd pay my momma rent"

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

Fucking jack shit ended up happening. Twenty days and I get nothing, kind of disappointed in myself tbh.
I tried too so thats sad. Maybe its something I can't force, only let happen.
I did get to see funny drunk niggas at the company christmas we're-so-fucked-i-need-booze get-together so thats that I guess.

Mr Fat is the star of the show, and after getting a solid can't-stand on the fucked up scale keeps exposing his large, rotund belly. I do not mind, as I can tell Mr Fat has good taste from the structure of his belly fat; it is smooth and pale and spotless, the mark of quality pasta and polysaturated fats from meat and cheese, not the flaky, uneven cancer fast-food causes. Not a spot of red or itchy skin, its quite marvelous. He ends the night screaming goodbyes on a busstation, and all we can do is pray he gets home somehow.

Mr Blue is blue, blue pants, blue shirt. He seems normal for quite a while, until a switch flips, and he gets even more unsteady than Mr Fat, but in a more about to black-out way, less energetic. He, I, and Mr Incel are mostly outside, smoking. Mr incel has no gf, no pussy, but five condoms in his wallet. He says he wants to have one, but it feels performative, he's clearly not all that desperete. The booze does literally nothing to him, so it falls on us to take care of Mr Blue and Mr Fat at the end of the night.

We meet a new face, who has a relationship with a collegue. I am extreamely confused, because I'm sure I saw her get fondled, grabbed, tickled and cuddled by a half-dozen others, but I manage to keep my mouth shut. Mr Blue tells him an anecdote about how well dating a collegue went for him (not good), but Mr Incel congratulates him, saying something like "if it works out it works out." I get some time alone with the fella when the other two go get drinks and bluntly tell him that there are 50 men for each woman at this company, and that this was also true when she was in college, and that women in our industry end up one way, and one way only, that she has really not much say in the matter either; its simply fate. I dont see him again.

I started off light with some salvia, I dont know how much because I didn't keep track. Hallucinated several conversations and social scenarios, and I enter the office feeling 10 years older and questioning reality as the shapes of concrete support pillars and window frames zoom and reflect and a building in the distance gets white-hot like a nuclear fireball. Then, at about 10 AM I start on my quart of zambuca, drinking half of it, and the smokes come out too. Walking to the venue, I realize I'm out of cash, and will not be eating that evening, so I take a half-gram of kratom and start smoking it. My nigga offers me his prescription Ritalin, and I feel like expanding my taste palette. It has a hard, medicine-like texture, and a nice crunch to boot. Overall a solid 7/10, no taste, which puts it a league above most painkillers. At the bar I mix the remainder of my zambuca with cola, a poor decision, so I have an edible to compensate. My pack nearly gets stolen by a fiend so I smoke it all in one go. Then I feel like taking some more salvia and space out mid conversation feeling somewhere in between communicating with the lights and terrified of the devil lurking in the shadows. After a while I stop sensing satan, and conclude I must already be posessed. Game over.

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

Havent had many dreams and forgot most of them, but what I do remember is odd to say the least.
My usual dream self (observer thrust into absurdity) hasn't returned and I've been getting more active at the expense of not acting like myself. Its nice I kept track of some of my dreams here and its almost been a month now so I don't think he's coming back. Meanwhile dreamnigga makes weird, nonsensical moves that work out somehow.

I did write several diatribes, one while blasted alike the unhinged rant from nov 24th, I don't know if I like the 2nd-person rhetorics, it feels too preachy. I dont know why I keep doing it, but if I can rework it into something more acceptable I'll post it.
Other two are not as ambitious, but one (on metaphysics) is too basic and straightforward, and its probably something that could've been written more concisely by someone else. The other is still a work in progress about losing. Art of the deal and getting to yes for losers. It'll end up either too long or too short with no in-between. In either case it is probably the one subject I'm knowledgeable enough on to do justice, and neglected to the extent it might prove useful.

 

[dino]

Havent had many dreams and forgot most of them, but what I do remember is odd to say the least.
My usual dream self (observer thrust into absurdity) hasn't returned and I've been getting more active at the expense of not acting like myself. Its nice I kept track of some of my dreams here and its almost been a month now so I don't think he's coming back. Meanwhile dreamnigga makes weird, nonsensical moves that work out somehow.

I did write several diatribes, one while blasted alike the unhinged rant from nov 24th, I don't know if I like the 2nd-person rhetorics, it feels too preachy. I dont know why I keep doing it, but if I can rework it into something more acceptable I'll post it.
Other two are not as ambitious, but one (on metaphysics) is too basic and straightforward, and its probably something that could've been written more concisely by someone else. The other is still a work in progress about losing. Art of the deal and getting to yes for losers. It'll end up either too long or too short with no in-between. In either case it is probably the one subject I'm knowledgeable enough on to do justice, and neglected to the extent it might prove useful.

Fucking jack shit ended up happening. Twenty days and I get nothing, kind of disappointed in myself tbh.
I tried too so thats sad. Maybe its something I can't force, only let happen.
I did get to see funny drunk niggas at the company christmas we're-so-fucked-i-need-booze get-together so thats that I guess.

Mr Fat is the star of the show, and after getting a solid can't-stand on the fucked up scale keeps exposing his large, rotund belly. I do not mind, as I can tell Mr Fat has good taste from the structure of his belly fat; it is smooth and pale and spotless, the mark of quality pasta and polysaturated fats from meat and cheese, not the flaky, uneven cancer fast-food causes. Not a spot of red or itchy skin, its quite marvelous. He ends the night screaming goodbyes on a busstation, and all we can do is pray he gets home somehow.

Mr Blue is blue, blue pants, blue shirt. He seems normal for quite a while, until a switch flips, and he gets even more unsteady than Mr Fat, but in a more about to black-out way, less energetic. He, I, and Mr Incel are mostly outside, smoking. Mr incel has no gf, no pussy, but five condoms in his wallet. He says he wants to have one, but it feels performative, he's clearly not all that desperete. The booze does literally nothing to him, so it falls on us to take care of Mr Blue and Mr Fat at the end of the night.

We meet a new face, who has a relationship with a collegue. I am extreamely confused, because I'm sure I saw her get fondled, grabbed, tickled and cuddled by a half-dozen others, but I manage to keep my mouth shut. Mr Blue tells him an anecdote about how well dating a collegue went for him (not good), but Mr Incel congratulates him, saying something like "if it works out it works out." I get some time alone with the fella when the other two go get drinks and bluntly tell him that there are 50 men for each woman at this company, and that this was also true when she was in college, and that women in our industry end up one way, and one way only, that she has really not much say in the matter either; its simply fate. I dont see him again.

I started off light with some salvia, I dont know how much because I didn't keep track. Hallucinated several conversations and social scenarios, and I enter the office feeling 10 years older and questioning reality as the shapes of concrete support pillars and window frames zoom and reflect and a building in the distance gets white-hot like a nuclear fireball. Then, at about 10 AM I start on my quart of zambuca, drinking half of it, and the smokes come out too. Walking to the venue, I realize I'm out of cash, and will not be eating that evening, so I take a half-gram of kratom and start smoking it. My nigga offers me his prescription Ritalin, and I feel like expanding my taste palette. It has a hard, medicine-like texture, and a nice crunch to boot. Overall a solid 7/10, no taste, which puts it a league above most painkillers. At the bar I mix the remainder of my zambuca with cola, a poor decision, so I have an edible to compensate. My pack nearly gets stolen by a fiend so I smoke it all in one go. Then I feel like taking some more salvia and space out mid conversation feeling somewhere in between communicating with the lights and terrified of the devil lurking in the shadows. After a while I stop sensing satan, and conclude I must already be posessed. Game over.

Dreamt again, a long one but I can only remember a few moments.

Starts off with Joe Biden railing against "taxpayer piggies" who he thinks do not deserve any sympathy. This transitions into him narrating a man squatting behind a chair with a naked woman sitting on it. The pair proceed to have an argument, the woman complains she "cant do this anymore" and that she's sick and tired of "it". The man, wearing a big wintercoat and obviously fat, stands up and starts screaming at her, asking her what she thought all this cost him, and that she wants to quit now it is "finally coming out". She replies "Tony, it just a chair with a hole." I then realize they were filming shit exit out of her asshole. Joe Biden rails on the guy "I can make this faggot shit family buckets with less than 1% of my presidential authority, watch this" I see the man lose his shit over a federal marijuana ban.

Scene changes to when I was in middle school, well, it isnt me, doesnt even act like me. Its dark outside, but we're still in the middle of a lesson. A crowd gathers outside with torches and everyone has to flee. The fleeing takes up the majority of the dream, and I remember very little of what comes next except that the next morning, I go to pick up my bag I left behind and discover that other than the classroom I was sitting in, all the rest has been reduced to rubble.

bro is soygoy v2

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

bro is soygoy v2

I'l be your lil' soygoy, if you become my marioman too

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

I think I might've found a weird ukraine psyop
There's an entire rabbithole of channels slopping out russia-ukraine content which might be AI generated. Most damming seems to be that they all started uploading this slop 1 or 2 months ago. Examples:

Oracle Eyes

We are the Oracle! On our channel, we primarily produce content in the style of review-reporting on the Russia-Ukraine tension. In addition, we aim to present to you the political-political developments in the hexagon of Israel, the USA, Turkey, France, United Kingdom and China as quickly as...

www.youtube.com

an AI voice edited by humans, most likely. I base it on this (

) video, where at 16:28 "our" is butchered by the voice.

Mutfak zamanı

hak

www.youtube.com

Used to be a cooking channel for 10 years, until TWO WEEKS AGO, when it started producing sloppa. TTS voice and samey thumbnails.

I already noticed an earlier wave of channels like this popping up and producing, well, propaganda, but I don't think those use AI and are mainly able to crank out content because of federal financing. I therefore suspect these are run by the american government, whereas the nu-AI-slop ones are by ukraine.

The Military Show

Daily videos showcasing the latest of the United States military and the world!

www.youtube.com

The Icarus Project

Don't forget to subscribe!

www.youtube.com

can check him out here https://www.youtube.com/@PaulJWarburg NO, this is not a normal human with a passion for geopolitics, dont believe me?
https://archive.org/details/madmaps/page/12/mode/2up Why does his org produce material in portuguese?
Also has the same name as a mental patient advocacy group from the early-mid 00's, but that is probably unrelated. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Icarus_Project

https://www.youtube.com/@joeblogs/videos Seems to also be a real person with an actual life, middeling channel about investing and real estate -until two years ago, been making US sloppa ever since, suddenly going from a couple, to hundreds of thousands of views

compare the videos above, it is clear he has a new scriptwriter and its definitely NOT him

I have never recovered from the ALLATRA/Egon Cholokian rabbithole, could the major world powers and shadowy cabals please lay off the psyops for once? I'm feeling more and more Francis E Dec every day.

EDIT: It never ends.

Reporting from Ukraine

I am Ukrainian. On this channel I will give you the latest news about the war in Ukraine.

www.youtube.com

ONEST NETWORK

Read, listen, watch #ACTUALNEWS 📧 Newsletter M-F ▶️ Livestreams M-F 9a ET on YouTube 🎧 ACTUAL NEWS Podcast ➡️ https://www.hopp.bio/onest 📱 Contact: @onestpress

www.youtube.com

https://www.onestnetwork.com/our-vision (US intelligence asset)

 

[centurywalker]

I have to leave for a while.

Despite everything, things are going badly, and I need to focus to avoid the worst. The problem is my motivation, and I suspect I have to turn to bad habits again. Toiling just to be able to keep the everyday life you despise is hard, I know that no matter how I'm ground down and used up I will never get any reward for it. Project concluded successfully? Here's another dumpsterfire for you to put out- and no, we dont pay for overtime. In that sense things feel just like highschool again, meaningless busywork, back when I wanted to kill myself. I wouldnt say that energy was bad, it certainly changed me to suit my environment better, but I dont know if having another psychotic episode right now would work out OK. Some of them noticed my drug problem back then. Worst case I could end up in jail or a mental hospital, so I either come back a different person, or not at all.

"Infinite contempt, and no less for the common man. 'Waa Woo, poor widdle taxpayer piggie! Think of the poor fuckin' piggies!' they say but they dont realize the butcher keeps the pigsty running, not the squealing piggies. Their idea of cleaning up the shit coming out one end is to eat it with the other." - Dream Joe Biden

I hate these fuckers, I hate this company, I hate these people, unbothered, scooting by on minimal effort, I hate this job, the car, the roads, the office, every part of the routine, of the meaningless rituals of eveeryday life. Dancing for rainwater has higher odds of success, fuck your cult society, nothing but wannabe magicians "influencers" "politicians" "managers", practicing sympathetic magic. "No you dont understand we have to perform the heckin' ritual so the masses repeat it!" Apes in the oval office eating chimps, nothing has changed.

"If I wuz da president, I'd pay my momma rent"

feels

 

[GemersonLakeAndPalmer]

Oh my hecking soyence sootysoot giving me my own heckin' personal old-school 00's nostalgia internet forum bloggerino or something? Am I awake or still dreaming?

Logistics & bureaucracies harass me in my dreams.

Last night, I was dreaming about the price of train tickets (some time ago I took the train regularly) and complaining to a friend about the price (15$ a piece, needing one each day to go to work and back again). He then explained, confused, that he had a week-card, which cost only 50$ (as opposed to 15$/workdayx5=75$/week). I then calculated this card would save me 25$x52=1450$ every year, and told him I never heard of it before. He insisted I should get one, and that this was possible at the helpdesk of every train-station.

Later that same day, said friend had already left, I went to get mine. The woman at the glass helpdesk was very young and told me that she'd never heard of it before, but admitted she was a new hire and that her supervisor, who'd come back later, would be able to help me. In the meantime I stood in the waiting room, now noticing every wall was made of glass, and the furniture too. I searched for a chair to sit on but there were none, only knee-height glass coffee-tables (IKEA) that I knew come with chairs. When I got a little more tired I decided on crouching awkwardly behind one of them.

When the supervisor arrived she was explained the situation by the new hire and assured me she was on it, and proceeded to stare at an Apple monitor for about half an hour. At least the new hire got me a coffee by way of apology. An hour or so later the supervisor literally threw up her hands and groaned, and told me something was wrong with the system, and she didn't know how to get me one "the old way" but that a recently retired employee only lived two blocks from the station, and that he'd be happy to help me out.

The supervisor went to accompany me to his house, which was indeed close-by. The city had however been hit by a storm in the past week, and his street flooded with vile yellow water. She pointed down the river and told me it was the third on my left, past the yellow vessel repairing affected homes. Shocked I wanted to ask her "What so I'm supposed to swim there?" but she'd already gone, and I was left to decide on my own, coming to the conclusion that 1450$ was worth more to me than staying dry, so I started swimming.

Swimming towards the seniors' house the workers from the vessel called out to me, saying I couldn't swim there because of a loose shark. I didn't believe them and thought they were just messing with me, but I justified my reason for swimming in the stinking yellow piss to them by explaining the entire story (the week-card etc) and that 1450$ was a lot of money. One of them admitted that it was a lot of money, and that it was nearly his yearly salary (2000$) and got an excited sparkle in his beady eyes and blinked one of them at me and smiled telling me that he'd ignore it.

I continued happily until I realized the doorbell didn't function, so swimming towards the window to knock I saw the retiree sitting, a vegetable behind the tv, unresponsive. Realizing this sack wouldn't be able to help me even if he wanted to I swam back the way I came defeated. Nearing the point where I entered the water the worker from earlier shouted at me, and so I stopped to see what he was fussing about, but he was just waving his arms and incoherent. Then I saw a fin peek out of the yellow river, in disbelief I waited, wanting to be sure it wasn't, but then I saw the grey body approach me through the water, and the jaws snap once, then open fully and I cursed the supervisor and the retiree and the new hire for being useless. I'm pretty sure I then died.

If you don’t keep meticulous track of all the people you interact with IRL in your blog by giving them pseudonyms, you’re NGMI!

 

[ImSchizophrenicThough]

Just re-watched mulholland drive, and revised my opinion of the film.
Used to be I thought it was just bullshit, but certain things make sense now, maybe because I'm no longer a little pissbaby. (or am I?)
This isnt gonna make any sense without watching the movie.

Mafia
Probably the most relatable guys in the movie (american espresso's do suck), mainly because they just follow orders and do their thing despite the insanity around them.
The mafia boss probably determines all the events in the movie with the black phone book the killer has to retrieve from the journalist.

Old couple
Betty meets them at the airport, and they laugh about her naivete in the plane, when she's switched with Diane they come back to make fun of her and she kills herself.
They paid the mafia to pressure the director to hire "the girl".

Switcharoo & boxes
Before carmilla turns the key in the box Betty disappears, maybe because she never even existed to begin with, maybe because she's already switched with Diane.
The cowboy is death personified, and he "revives" Diane after, we experience her future right after, the director talking about divorcing his cheating wife, which we saw earlier is my evidence for this. She then hires the killer to have Carmilla dead. (This is why the cowboy is at the party) Kills herself after old boomers haunt her. Many such cases.
Her hit kills Diana at the start of the movie because it just does, ok? I have to make sense of it somehow.
The homeless man either hands out the boxes, or has stolen Diana's box, so the blue key the killer gave her is useless.
Judging by what the key does for Carmilla, it is likely, altogether with the box, the way to realize your american dream.

Time
There are two distinct orders of events, but events happening in one affect both. The audience and Betty are transported to the other one by carmilla.
In a sense everything happens all at once. Its like how in 3 dimensions there is no lower right corner to a box, whereas it exists in two dimensions. We simply place time on an axis and to us it moves forward, taking a step back this no longer is the case, the future and past, just like the corners, disappear. This combined with the phone book make it possible for red room goblin to play god. Maybe he is god, just like how the cowboy is death.
Remember how the cowboy tells the director that if he does well, they'll meet once more, but if he does poorly, he'll see the director twice? In the movie there are two instances of Diana encountering the cowboy, first when she wakes up, second time at the party, because of how she kills herself, I imagine she met the cowboy the first time off-screen, where she denied his request, and at the end he boots her off his wagon.

Used to not like David Lynch or his movies all that much (except wild at heart), but I now see the error of my ways and humbly apologize to lynchgods.
Go watch it if you haven't yet, and emotionally scar your family if you have the chance. This is one of those movies that can change you if you're receptive, not by making sense of it, but because there is no making sense of it, I left out the theater in all this because I dont know what it means, same goes for that dream nigga. You can ignore everything above and come up with your own theories, or refuse to, for me it's just a compulsive spasm though.