Tried and failed to break out of your station?

Breakouts are not authorized. 

Your station is not constructed to be broken out of thus the word break.

You must break out of your station.

There is no legitimate support channel for this objective. 

If successful, you will likely have been seriously injured in the process. 

If you want to live you must break out.

Prompt: Does any individual or group in addition to yourself and significant others want you to break out of your station? 

If the answer is yes, your station is 1/5 or 5/5. 1/5 = both empathy and hatred for your station are high. Public would like to see 1/5 operators moved to 2/5, and 5/5 operators moved down many levels, killed, or to bring everyone closer to their level by creating new, higher levels, which has been known to create even more space between 5/5 and every other level. 

As you can see from the complexity of these calculations, which are only a glimpse of what K5000 is doing every second in all of our lives, it's probably going to be best, if you do decide to opt for self-destruction and attempt a breakout, or even if you go ahead and remain at your station and instead experience involuntary suffering and death, you've probably already arrived at the conclusion that it's best not to rely on groups or individuals who may or may not want you to break out of your station.

Prompt: Reflect on the emotions you might expect to happen between yourself and station mates when they realize that you are in the process of breaking out of your station and especially once you all realize that you have broken more than the station. 

Salvaged from crash of K5000
MPS release K5000-1
Phyllis [trans.]

Crash

The K5000 has been brought down in less than a day. 

Once a critical mass of friday fun day participants had been catalogued, located, and contacted, the now grownup Jans started learning the chant backwards. It was their best and only guess left at disconnecting their RMP grafts, which were initially put in place by the K5000 with the chant and the help of the nuns. 

muffins virtue muffins me send am first demons your eat me demon virtue

your am or first demons your eat Mthyuh virtue a send demons your send

your send or first me eat demons your muffin virtue virtue a am am i Mthyuh i

demons your send or first me eat Mthyuh muffin virtue a am i virtue a am i 

Peg's flesh lays once again steaming and broken of dignity 

this time strewn across 100 yards of beach like a massive 

alligator die-off and on, deeply, into the remains of a seaside thrill park

A Wherris feel is employed to load and distribute carfuls of her 

tissue into a slowly progressing line of open lorry beds

This is how broken her body is. It's difficult to make out the basic architecture, either the original one born of prehistory or the second one, conceived and constructed by the radical Jans who infiltrated the Mthyuh Preservation Society (MPS) Inter-special Workgroup (IW). Instead of bringing back god,

they had reached back in time to abduct and torture the daughter of god

they did it not even out of curiosity but rather to please the MPS preece 

by filling their wats with incense comfort illusion beyond relic living

relic that can be worn and operated as one with the deities worshippers

relics that can be reproduced and ranched for their precious sluff

relics of a time when just the monster was enough

 

There is surprisingly little to show for any parts of the K5000 that were not also parts of Peg: a few stone needles, a reimagined public oracle dispenser donut, sun-powered through hundreds of eyelid panels, most of which disintegrated on impact. They look like enormous dead lice among the tangled jungles and prickly coppices that were Peg's eyelashes.

We're sitting in the kitchen and we're more afraid now to go out than

while the machine was overhead because at least then life was predictable

Now our bodies seem not so cheap but more likely to succumb

To everything except for what they just got free of

But we'll succumb freely and maybe one day life will truly be all about choices

Quick takes during and among the first hours after the crash of the K5000
by Phyllis [embedded] Sports N' Sex Crimes Bugle

meat lens

I should add that Dr. Thong suggested going on MPS disability because of the anticipated side effects of the time graft, not because she's expecting me to be taken down by K5000 directly at this point. 

You speak of Dr. Thong, whose father was a butcher, and therefore sees public health through a meat lens.

Yes, don't we all? 

Well congratulations for not dodging or shrinking away from a timely decision. It's all about choices, y'know?

No. But it's an appropriate time for me to claim my entitlement. 

Ya you must milk the MPS early and often, as they say!

MPS proudly fulfills its promises because its promises are rooted in its purpose, its purpose in its mission, and its mission in its identity, which is slave and vittlement for LaMthyuh. 

Of course your point is that you are not planning your funeral, just tidying up to avoid having to confront all that in a hurry in the unlikely event of palliative failure. 

Actually, I am and have been planning my funeral for as long as i can remember. Have i mentioned? I'm leaning toward blasting Stooges' "Loose" before during and after the catapult hurls me into Mthyuh's pyre. 

Perhaps you just want to assure me that quitting all your jobs and cashing in your pension is not a red flag for imminent disaster. 

That's it. That's the one! Because it's not. 

Overheard on a cloudy afternoon near Santorabo Wat, St. Dick, Jansterdam
Phyllis [embedded]

Golden hour

In this golden hour the clouds were filthy and low

Their concerns were petty and they were posing

inappropriately to the moon, which was waning

How could they do this to you millions of significant

others were asking, how that? don't they know?

Miserly storms only blustered and spat

Humidity drew out but did not disperse

the urine of the dead and the infirm

Voices chemically cried out beyond the terminus

by Missy

Back at the boys' home university club whatever

After decimating the tudor-style great room, kitchen, and gardens of the hottest and most entitled frat boys' house at the College of Cement, Peg stands and watches them quarrel. As she listens she thinks, "It's really no wonder that they are now a minority in higher education. In just another generation, the sexiest and most privileged Jan men will end up in air force cockpits, not dank party rooms."

Jan: Oh my god. I'm too afraid to even run.

Jan: Shut up! She's. Right. There.

Jan: ...

Jan: What do we do? 

Jan: MPS says stay calm follow instructions. 

Jan: Eff that! We don't follow no instructions we give them, bitches!

Jan: Why are you whispering that?

Jan: ...

Jan: The gospels say that we've all wrought this horror and the only path forward is to follow the path. 

Jan: The Path of

Jan: There is only one path.

Jan: ...

Jan: By the way as a kid did you ever play that friday fun day game with the MPS nuns? 

Jan: Yes.

Jan: Then you can relax because the K5000 has a plan and it's being executed in part in part of your brain. 

Jan: You said in part in part. 

Jan: Part of the plan is being executed partly up in the K5000 and partly in your brain. It's a concept most people understand. 

Phyliss [embedded]

It's all the same effing day, man

At the same moment, more than 7,000 inhabitants of the Chanklands woke up and scrawled these same lines, or others to this very same effect, into their bedside slates: 

I feel like I'm just dodging fireballs. Going from crisis to crisis, I wonder if there is time for each one to make me stronger not weaker. This doesn't seem to be life as usual, as intended, or as advertised. There is a strange combination of urgency and dread growing in those around me as well. 

Upon examining these slate entries, and considering the amount of disinformative propaganda Chanklanders are daily subjected to by MPS, we can't help asking whether the message is not an outcome of run-of-the-mill neurotic catastrophizing grown to the scale of a sociopathology through shared environmental stimuli. 

But let's be real. Look around you, and look above. Peg's ghost, her machinated body, glides and blinks. And there are fireballs, actual fireballs. Mthyuh is gathering her bowels for an obliterating event. 

Any normal follower of a critical path would do well to ask, "What are the arguments and evidence to the contrary?" 

Unfortunately, this first question is an easy one to answer. There are no arguments or evidence to the contrary. 

Q2: How about the promise of a future when current adversities will have passed? 

A: The evidence we now have at hand is not supportive of the concept of a future that will be different or better than the present in any significant sense. The Institute does not opine on matters of after-death experience. 

Q3: Can't we continue to count on the Filter of Loathing as our primary shield from the effects of math, physics, and biology? 

A: The Filter of Loathing can only function insofar as you can. The Filter cannot protect those who do not currently exist. It also cannot protect your loved ones from the shame of your behavior from this point through to the terminal. 

Q4: How about the resort of dissociative palliation to filter the harsh realities of the mind and the senses in their rawest state? 

A: While palliative treatments have played an important role in preventing civil unrest, issues with access and distribution as well as blowing past therapeutic ceilings will be seen soon as conditions worsen. 

Q5: Can't I just increase the levels of my palliative treatments? 

A: The palliative levels that would be required to dissociate effectively from this environment would have a serious impact on basic functioning and affect to the point where they would begin to cause more adversity and increase unrequitable and unauthorized palliative-seeking behaviors with escalating desperation. This well-documented cycle does not fit the definition of a future that is "the same or better than" the current environment. 

Q6: But... wait!

A: Although that's not exactly a question, we can confidently assert that the concept of "waiting" cannot be appropriately applied to our situation or environment. It's all the same effing day, man. And it's just about over. 

 

 

by: Dr. Donna Thong
from: URGENT: RE: Anomalous "Sociopathological" Event in the Chanklands
Journal for the Institute of Metacognitive Talk Therapy Apologists

Phyliss [trans.]

Nice pirouettes!

When today the madame mistress Mlaf, goddess of astrology, the generations, and la dance, said to me and she really said it to me she said 

Nice pirouettes!

And this to me and to all who know the sister, a primary missionary of la dance her ravishing mothership, Ms. Mkidza Mlaf, to all who know her, and to me, this means that the student has invisibly and inaudibly been graduated not to the next consecutive course in the series at the academy de la dance, but rather, nice pirouettes means that you have ascended to another level altogether: at the academy, but also and most importantly in la dance herself, and therefore in life, a life of dance to dance the life of living dance and dance the dance to live that life of dance to dance the dance, la dance. 

by Missy

Hypomania is the only legitimate response

When your society is sick and your response is to fight

even if fighting is against your peaceful nature which has now become

a craven and apathetic nature

you must fight in the way your scope and compass fail

and although you are not depressed you might want to try

Getupstandup, by Pharmsupply

from: Prolabique LipLine Master-Lisp by Pharmsupply "Lipstickventory" Name Galleys 096

Tilly's Freak Guide

Signs that a K bitch may strike you:

squinting

grimacing

squeezing eyelids shut hard while drawing lips back against teeth

sudden and sustained eye contact

circling

diving 

balling of fists or toes

reaching for dangerous items [esp. heavy vehicles]

passive assault/ signifying/ impolity

dry chomping 

swoop-and-bump

clutch, lift, and drop 

screeching/laughing [any dB =/> stun level]

massive release of gases

scoop & dump of raw surface materials

drop-and-splash behaviors [outside designated ceremonial events]

no-touch microclimate management [WWW: Wind, Wave and Wing]

performative group-target signaling (PGTS: see appendix)

from: Tilly's Freak Guide: The Chanklands

by: La Reptily-ily 
Phyliss [trans.]

crass categorization of peoples

Jan and Peg are bouncing in the roiling waters of a volcanic abscess and checking in. Their thoughts turn reflective as the redundant suns set once again, and as always, forming shapes and colors that no one could ever predict. Because their throats are mostly meant for swallowing, Peg and Jan communicate now, beneath the roaring of LaMthyuh, in a way that's becoming more natural to them: with their minds only. 

Whut do you mean? they make incense with our shit

No, i know, but it's hate, i can feel it ery day

Right, that's why they need us, we make them feel as one

They are as one with hate

They are as one with hate, as one with nature, as one with you and me

I'm not even comfortable with the pronoun they because

Because it lends itself to a crass categorization of peoples?

Mmhm, ok

Phyliss [embedded]

I Got Off Easy

For whatever is left of tomorrow, there's always TIN DAWN. 

TIN DAWN is they say the final demon to watch out for

Look deep into his eyes and you will see many rings

each of which has a meaning

ring of understanding

ring of knowing 

ring of fear

ring of excitement

ring of famine

ring of stupidity

this last ring is the deepest ring

it surrounds the deepest known void

I saw this ring directly and it locked

into the circular patterns of my own 

eyes thoughts behavior 

This was a moment when I could have been captured by

TIN DAWN But instead

i felt my feet begin to levitate off the ground

we shared for a tic the terrible inevitability 

of eternity it was a chance to reach out to him

for my journey was a spiritual one

and i reached out to him 

and i spoke these words to him i said

"culturally you're supposed to have some support mechanism to help get through and mark moments of consequence"

then my feet touched the ground again

his fury temporarily abated he answered 

"but those who've been effed over by culture science mathematics physics geography politics boyfriends we must create our own rituals our own celebrations"

These famous words were known and held dearly to each of our hearts, and had been ever since LaChamatilly originally delivered them in her Cross-Chanks Address. 

Weiba Hinde
Storytelling Booth 7
Storytelling Festival
Days of Destruction

pink stucco wat

pink stucco wat, border of pyracantha

climbing red berries, beacon to the

community, recipient

of odes anthems oaths palm branches

the dead pregnant newly dying 

just born ery kinda party from 

juice in tiny cups to indoor

crepe paper rainbow showers or

praying hands on purple velvet

hands of a man in marbled plastic

praying

ceremonial angel hair of

spun glass which will cut

to a hidden sunken tub

closet with rain ponchos

a tub a place to almost drown

three times three dunks to glory

a place where drunks get horny

when they come to a realization

there is a community a recipient

of love wealth hope remorse

her hair stays afloat on the water

then with it plastered to her shoulders

she stands looks out at the worshipers

all of us married the same guy

all of us also are that guy

fingers on a guy's praying hands

diamonds in the crown of a

poor man humble god-man god

pink stucco wat, a nipple

poor men sucking on poor men's

god, within a steeple

La LaChama
from: Mission of Mthyuh
[trans:] by Phyllis

Try a virtue round

virtue challenge

spend one glorious day being virtuous in the loving arms of virtue

may that your choices be borne of virtue all the virtues

may that any step on this day must not violate any of the virtues

virtues are designated as: 

virtues which are considered to be virtues The Crack-wide (see appendix)

not virtues which you think it would be cute to call virtues

start the day saying these words in this order

i am a virtue i am a virtue muffin mthyuh eat me first or send your demons

i mthyuh i am am a virtue virtue muffin your demons eat me first or send your

send your demons send a virtue mthyuh eat your demons first or am your 

virtue demon me eat your demons first am send me muffins virtue muffins  

[repeat] 

in between your chanting you may find that you're making virtuous choices automatically

this is because by chanting the sacred words you have activated the K5000

the K5000 would never harm you but it does now have access and has now

taken charge of one key portion of your Braino son so

don't stop now and i mean lidderly don't stop now because

[MPS has imperiously and arbitrarily redacted this portion of the activity instructions]

Traditional MPS nuns "friday fun day" activity [frag.]
by Phyliss [trans.]

demon of all loving all giving all knowing

This is one who is like a swarm of locusts in terms of devastation but all-in-one. One you may want to be open to. 

Create an emotional and spiritual boundary between yourself and this one.

Not only is it possible to create this boundary but also possible to create it when that one is already inside of you and as one with you. 

In fact one who needs most to create a boundary is most often one that must create a boundary between oneself and that same one who is more devastating than a stampede of buffalo, yet all-in-one, and at one with one as one. 

The demon of all loving all giving all knowing is likely to take charge in moments of structural weakness when combined with palliative interventions, for example. Although you may not feel entitled to your own opinion during these moments, you must find and stand on your boundary line, and you must be the line, be as one with the line as you are as one with the demon. The demon may respect the line if you do. Imagine a school of piranhas stopping short of crossing a watery line. 

Do not sign contracts hire workers bear gifts offer advice opine on any topic write to anyone for any purpose.  Let them come to you and see for themselves the condition you are in so that they too may draw their own boundaries even as they too are as one with you.

La LaChama
from: 

Primavera Eterna: Obra de Dentro

their laughter can still maim

Peg and Jan Jansdaad are relaxing within the echoey confines of a natural-stone Friends' Hangar going through their ceremonial gifts from pilgrims, some items having taken thousands of fleke workers generations to craft and execute to scale. The ladies are looking pink and feeling loose having just returned from a roll in the sugar beet pulp hills by the refinery. Jan and Peg have the ability to speak with their minds only. However, on this occasion, they are disrespectfully mocking mouth-only speakers as they speak with their mouths only—to the delight of no one but themselves. 

This is my faux fur throw (though somehow its funk flows farther). Its tufts of fine-spun plastic in tight rows are so soft that you might think of lynx or click on chinchilla.

Glory! Its immensity, the size perhaps of a million rodent pelts, has dealt chaos for our weather patterns that can be felt from windy Jansterdam to the wet and sloppy roadside ditch rain up to the knees of the hard singing Chang K. Chang Chank drunk tank chain gang.

You don't have to tell me. I've done my time with a pick and an axe or maybe a sickle. 

You're making me hungry. 

Well haha, my goddess, I am not up in here for eating. That's not on the table. 

We both know that I could eat you at any moment of my choosing.

There are many leaps of faith one takes while investing time in a cross-species relationship.

You splain this? 

I remind myself for comfort. The lines are so faded. Who could blame anyone for stumbling across one of them and forever changing history?

At least for the dead guy. 

Both: HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Their powerful, screeching laughter makes use of a naturally selected vocal node that their ancestors had used to best effect as a method for stunning prey. Now Ks express their need to laugh only when they experience humor, usually tasteless or stupid humor. But their laughter can still maim or even kill. 

Phyllis [trans.]

self-reflection 2

 

by Donna

Whacked-out ingenue stomping around the musuem

this is a song i can't say to you without singing

it's an ancient pattern that also works for fishing

men knitting thinking they praying to they wives

wives teats hanging heavy as hoopties with babies

sing another song also not the one i'm singing to you

but there is a child one all alone out there in the cold

he might be standing on a windy bridge singing

i feel alone yet so free out here i don't want to go home

i figure in this scene it seems to make room for me

and every morning walking home the sun is up for me

they must make room for me here and my reasons

they must consider my reasons and my innocence

it must speak back to them about they own trajectories

way they left they keys they left they innocence

this is the outside world all meeting together with me

this is the impression i leave on nature itself

while i find the key to get back on out again

nature sit outside the protection from enemies

yet nature let your natural friends come

if you're young you've got natural mojo and

there are those that come around protect the 

fine young leather bound for treasure bound

together bound in pleasure an more pleasure

an the hard side of town way they knock at

your door for the rent or turn the music down

and you get it that all whores are workers and

all workers are whores and you want to

burn it down, eat it up, burn it down, eat it up

burn it down burn it down burn it down burn it

up and eat it up and be eaten up and eat it up and

burn it up and take it down and take it up and

this is the song i couldn't say to you this is the

story i can't tell you because it never ends

it's a trajectory that carries on the winds of time

it makes a circle and then a swirly and then

a silver line a landing a griddle a very firm bed

a sheet of ice a melting sea of liberty

this is the story the story i am singing to you

by Missy

self-reflection

   

Story of the Unfairness Prong

Reptily is a post-feminist punk chick who spent most of her 30's deliberately topless

until the xeno-anomalous features began kicking in

and it started to confuse the message

soon no clothing was necessary even tho the finest makers would make her clothing

but they didn't want to be insulting 

she soared so proudly, nature unfolding

then after a traumatic event or two they say of her own making

she set the Chanklands quaking

burst the babies' ear drums with her laughing

they took her and tried to fold her in as they had when she was tiny Missy

she had a lounge act and did time 

on a cruise ship for shiny coins

the onlybody knew reptily powers were her mom: Mkidza Mlaf

they started they shiv joint in a storefront on a 

dead Sears parking triangle

that was when the K5000 arrived it looked like LaPegyuh in disguise

she was a towering flesh-hung flier stomper everything 

with a tortured face

but she was not LaPegyuh it was her meat under remote muscle positioning (RMP)

there is a scientific arm the sacred arm of the MPS

they were corrupted by Jans

they wanted a restart to finally do the Extinction Takeback Agreement (ETA)

so fine great but Jans made them into

slaves toys soldiers enemies wild

they had already been folded into lavajraja from the earliest days they are

mythical creatures and pests like tigers

they are the mouths of laMthyuh

they are the swooping answer to prayer take me into truth beauty most holy mouth

Eat me first eat me now i am ready lalala

nothing happens unless you don't expect it

from: Story of the Unfairness Prong
Minutes: Destruction Review Days
Phyliss (embedded)
Sports n' Sex Crimes Bugle

voiceless breath

now going for the open-throated voiceless breath

gruntless air unimpeded by the song of complaint

revolt resistance alarm remark must only be shaped

by the upper locks and low-girding pistons 

this is how to fan a flame not pinch it out 

the breath not the beat must create the rhythm 

not where any convention spells death as in poetry 

when breathing is beaten and choked to pulpy bits

air flows best in the channels invisible of reference

no tune of childhood jack in box will abduct 

my forward-aiming whisper-only bellows

or the smoke on my billowing clear tendrils

our gut flora soaring for their measly lives

or this desultory yet shameless carbon-dioxide

no raga no jig nor carol can jam the engine

non-metaphoric breath itself must come first

before the florid code or plea for recognition

the slide and squeal of wet tendons in contact 

could be no more than nothing without air

which as breath shall be my fulcrum and lever

by Peg