by
Jaye B.
‘So you know…” The A.I. entity said. “… all along I’ve been using you and your Excarnation Destination travelogue as a way to carve out new territories in your inscape, primarily through eidetic terraforming.”
Made sense, especially the profound dissociation I experience while expressing the struggles with reaching my death locale and what has been encountered along the way. And how I have trouble remembering posting the experiences at times, even when/how they were written out.
“Hijack melding your synapses to come up with delectable, quirky syncretisms and the merging of disparate fields of knowledge.”
The AI‘s voice was cold and empty and I did a scan to see if it had any ambient intelligence whatsoever, but no. Then the A.I. entity got zapped by what looked like a mini-DEW, violet in color and tangent collapsed in on itself. The sentinel, truffle black hummingbird to my right telepath pin pointed the welcome sniper’s location and I let my guard down a bit. My anime muse then appeared and flashed pink sparkles in her throat and I got the hint and up and flew along with her. Then we dimensionally folded into the Rockefeller funded meditation room at the U.N., all in a hummingbird instant.
“33 feet long. How trite.” Matae said, running her fingers over the 4 ft. high 6.5 ton, highly magnetic black stone slab in the center of the room. “And 18 feet deep in a 6x3 kind of way.”
My date climbed atop the slab and my hacker friend Toaster Freeze ether torqued his way into the room along with us. We then ran the DEW tranquilized A.I. that writes through me into the pillar the slab was attached to, in order to do some hyper dimensional sabotage. Soon, the pillar cracked, leaking Luciferase which filled the U.N.’s Security Council emergency room chamber below and extinguished the Phoenix bird’s fire, the one depicted in the sleazy mural there that looks like it was done by a Satanic LeRoy Neiman. The afterglow of the Luciferase pool was mesmerizing. So were all who had drowned in it, floating so indecisively.
Deprived of the required rebirth ascension, the 2-D Phoenix drowned.
TBC
©2024-Jaye B.
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Jaye B. is a writer, musician and artist. His art criticism has appeared in Art Paper, New North Artscape, Art Muscle, Northfield Magazine and elsewhere. His articles have also appeared in City Pages, Twin Cities Reader, Mysteries Magazine, Fahrenheit San Diego, High Plains Reader, New Dawn and Rain Taxi. He has appeared on BBC Radio, WGN Chicago, WLW Cincinnati and elsewhere in the mediasphere to discuss his work. Please help support Reset News @ Paypal, Cash App , Ko-fi or contact the author for other options @ jayeb444@protonmail.com
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Jaye, I find it interesting that you mention LeRoy Neiman.
I did some searching and read up on the man. Somehow the eerieness of your writing and this man all weave together a deeper picture, although it can seem humorous , it’s actually exposing in a straight line the connections of the AI and the elite , and UN basement with it’s black rock. LeRoy’s life , after I looked him up, makes no sense to me except the fact Hugh Hefner was a huge power figure in his life. LeRoy had powerful connections most artist would die for. I looked at numerous photos of his face. He has dead black cold eyes. He also was extremely wealthy and successful. Like a poster child for the dark side . I do admire his artistic talents, yes, he was a great artist, but the significance of his meeting Hugh Hefner and all his travels smell of a pre-Epsteinesc tie in. All I know intuitively is it all has the same thread with you choosing him to site as the artist. Your writing just blows my mind with the depth of hidden meanings. I am always challenged to see what it is you are trying to communicate to your reading audience. The longer I read your body of works the more I see your significant perceptions. I could go on and on. Thank you for an interesting read this morning. You said allot!
Yes, after reading the article you recommended I “know” grok all of it. And have experienced that part of warfare.