The Blue-Eyed Seminole

A judge granted us each a restraining order against the other, but that was already three 5-year cubes of human time past its expiration lagging behind like a momentary and lifesaving act of cannibalism when we both ate mushrooms from an autistic shaman and yours didn't have any effect because of the type of antidepressant you were on and mine didn't show me my spirit animal but we were able to figure out between us that yours is The Blue-Eyed Seminole. I'd like mine to be Dick Van Dyke or Shamu but it turns out that under current circumstances the two of us together must follow this single Earth man's moonlike and scantily clad glow. Parts of our brains can see him glaring down from the face of a painting or standing out in the yard. He tracks but does not intervene in the volatile triad of bastardized great Danes, the result of breeding experiments, a poltergeist that has formed in our sphere of responsibility, a small sphere, admittedly, and which challenges us in nearly every moment to be strong and to rise from our cares enough to impose order on our house, a house of ancient nobility and brotherhood with nature, Her silt, her DNA, coating the carpets paintings books coats; our family shield, 3 dogs playfully trying to mount one another ad infinitum, reminds us to be alive to the teeming animas, all of us creatures with fears and desire. We follow our guide blindly and groggily. As we sleep we see his silhouette in the glowing blue rectangle, the bluish scar on our optic canvas from hourly superhuman forays into virtual dimensions. We see The Blue-Eyed Seminole cast a heavy blanket on a flare of anger or when he sparks a desire to get out and walk. His eyes don't tear up in the bitter cold, but his cheeks become livid and fierce. We had to trek this far to find him on his turf. It feels to me but it's hard to say for sure if he's the one who will lead us through the borderlands. 

by Jan

floor

 

Make a pyre in a ring of iron

Pass time unmeaningfully

Rest in a place of uncaring

Surrender to the call of napping

Flail in your sleep with abandon

Grab at familiar handles

Basic functions are a luxury

Planets are moving involuntarily

Appliances waken automatically

Collect these moments in memory

The year sluffs off all around you

Gather all the deadened units

Make a pyre in a ring of iron 

Send it all to the heavens

[Traditional]

Respect me

 

Lidda ones

d'planet drew a deep breaf

an took off from isseff

itta bin pre-decide it

who be leffin d'duss

d'ones who suffer d'mos

an dey lidda ones

by Missy

 

 

 

 

 

 

Crumpled stem

What if only the legs prevail?

beyond unattractiveness

what are repercussions for the

mind and other limbs?

these parts radiate from the loin

these thighs cradle all life

or not, but they inhabit this

architecture cultural physical

template but what of a mind

imagining itself wobbling at

the top of a crumpled stem

or wholistically unwhole

What about arms that have

strategically surrendered to

over and under working

and life-extending poisons

Let it be the legs that go

last let me cling to the

capacity to run away

to die while seeking freedom

Comical scenes come to

mind for example if blind

earnest, yet flattened by

a car, which reminds all

The rest of us of where

we are, that some liberties

cannot should not be.

Only the mind can flee.

Ayre Fromme-Diaz

Dance of good fortune

Bone pile

Sure they use coffins their bodies are human-sized

And they go in the ground everybody cries

But who decorates a casket like a fancy cake

Parades it in the streets along with fist shakes

This is what they appear to do in their culture

We on the other hand would only act that way

If somebody kept killing our families or gays

And we wanted to send a message of both

Love and rage grief and exasperation

But i've never seen it happen in our nation

In Mexico they'll make a big show for the

Funeral but if you can't pay your remains

May be replaced by the next guey and 

May even be on display in a bone pile

Invisible from the North American aisle

The more you explore exotic continents

Listen to sentences with few consonants

One finds it's also just the same: humans 

Stuck in a box culture history war place

Or freedom deconstructionism outer space

Ayre Fromme-Diaz

decarboxylation

having expended energy, there is a result

i've been heated down to my sparkly remains

i am ready to be consumed directly

my face and my facade have fallen apart

self-referentiality sings into a void

narcissus sees the lovely water, but that's all

girth of Milky Way = 140x < my debris field

who is even speaking now i can't say

wouldn't you know anxiety alone survives

Chamatilly

They brought him indoors to die

it must be odd to spend your last days in a novel environment

maybe you're too complicated now for the sun's direct rays

they bring you finally into overrated shelter

but it's a confusing and confounding place of artificial darkness

and metaphoric light and shade this isn't how nature was made

they bring you in to tell your story for you

they bring you in because they think you'll finally fit in a box

and who could stand to watch your body molder where it drops

they bring you in to pay your debt to a hole in the ground

did you dream of animals that drag themselves to a

final sounding place did you admire their agency

the clarity of their version of filling emptiness

was there a window where a life could pass by

instead of before your eyes did you allow them to take you

safely to their own imagined wigwams in the sky

they brought you indoors to die in order to manage the process

maybe it was your plan all along to disappear on a palanquin 

after promising your organs to the crows and the scorpions

Ayre Fromme-Diaz

"Remembering Leonard Knight"

If you're looking for silver

If you're looking for silver

I'd direct you to the center

of the cloud, not its perimeter

and if you're finding 

your happy lining

it's just because the sun is shining

once in a wood

a poet couldn't see

the moon for a tree

that seemed to glow from within

a silver glow second only to the sun

a light that night cannot darken

that's why an irreligious lunatic

can be so optimistic

and savage nature so idyllic

Ayre Fromme-Diaz

Virtually no production shutdowns

All biological namesakes of Jan Jansdaad Jr. have the duty and the privilege of electing Depth of Relationship (DOR) settings. 

To begin, select the  >Batch function, which will assign the same foundational DOR setting to All Living Jans. You may select from foundational settings such as vague acquaintance, acquaintance, buddy, friend, lover, family (all permutations), family (all blood), family (nuclear), or none (your setting will default to the foundational DOR setting of the individual Jans with whom you will interact). Selecting "none" signals that you are willing to comply equally with any of the foundational settings that another Jan may have chosen. 

Before finalizing your selection, reflect on how each of these choices as a foundational DOR for All Living Jans will affect your trajectory. You must also take into account the likelihood of other Jans' DOR choices aligning with yours. 

For example, can you realistically expect that the foundational DOR selected by other Jans, even those whom you have never met, will align with your "family (nuclear)" election? You might think it would be great for everyone to be your parent, sister, or brother, but what level of compliance can you realistically expect? How likely is it that other Jans will also have chosen "family (nuclear)" as their foundational DOR?

Next, select the >Filter function, which can batch select subgroups of Jans for assignment of group DOR settings. 

Choose a group. Some of these are coworkers, neighbors, service workers, and imaginary Jan friends. 

Next, assign your preferred DOR setting to that group. Do the same for each of the other groups. Remember that if you do not choose a setting, the DOR will default to the setting chosen by any other Jan with whom you might interact. 

If neither of you has chosen a setting, you are on your own with the limited skills of communication and empathy that your average Jan can muster. For DOR related emergencies, do not contact MPS. Call your local emergency services number directly. 

Once you have entered conflict mode with another Jan, your option to elect DOR settings manually will not be available. Please allow the technician to access your Filter of Loathing panel and make the appropriate adjustment to your master settings. These settings will remain in effect until you have updated your foundational and group DOR settings in the app. 

At this time, no individual DOR settings are available for election through the app. Selection of individual DORs must be negotiated per pre-MPS guidelines, and no support can be provided for these primitive transactions. 

For these and many more reasons, MPS strongly suggests setting all groups and subgroups, including your actual nuclear family, to the "acquaintance" DOR level by simply electing the "acquaintance" DOR as your foundational DOR setting. 

Within the "acquaintance" foundational DOR setting panel, you may select from three modes: acquaintance (default), acquaintance (trusted), or acquaintance (red flag).  

The foundational "acquaintance (default)" DOR setting is designed to ensure lasting, dependable, and uninterrupted collaboration with all other Jans no matter their group, subgroup, or elected DOR settings. You will experience virtually no production shutdowns due to emotional imbalance, abstract allegiances, biological coupling, unplanned pregnancies, or STIs. 

K5000 dump frag #lke89723hlsg0i234i
Phyliss [trans.]

Path of Self-Destruction

Missy is soaring low, just above the siraitia grosvenorii canopy near Ilyn's Diving Board. 

She notices two tiny K males ready for combat. Their tails are raised and curled back over their heads. The cool, shadowy grove seems an unlikely place for tensions to build. 

Feeling bored, Missy decides to take a side, to see if she can force a duel and then influence the outcome. There were far too many male Ks in the Chanklands. She would only ever need one, if any. 

Soaring in a tight circle, she reflects on which of the males is most irritating to her. Then she chooses the one she would least like to eat as the loser. His left brachiopatagium is discolored, perhaps from salt water. "Did you ever stop to think about how your opponent is feeling?" she asks him. 

He cannot respond, and he doesn't know where the question is coming from because Missy is speaking to him with her mind only. 

"You think he deserves your wrath, but did you ever look yourself in the mirror?"

The fighter Missy's chosen as the winner, and perhaps her future sex toy, has sensed an advantage. He hasn't even bared his claws or teeth. Instead, he regurgitates the sloppy, stinking remains of three pilgrim scouts onto loser's face. 

"Imagine the kind of pain he must be feeling, the stress he must be under, to disrespect you that way. You know, life is all about choices. You can give into your shameful anger and start another fight (why do you always get into fights?), or you can turn around and walk away right now. You have choices today."

Missy's loser actually internalizes her message and turns to walk away. This arrogance enrages Missy's winner, who feels that he who holds the high ground is he who can bravely be the ass kicker, not the one who self-righteously declines to fight. 

Missy's winner chomps onto the end of the loser's tail and drags a couple of teeth along it deep enough to crush a row of keratinoid scaling, a mark that will heal but not disappear. 

Missy's loser turns reflexively, baring three rows of teeth and a fiercely aromatic hiss. 

"You're going to let him push your buttons? Tell me. Is this what you want your life to be like? Blundering from one conflict to another? Is this how you want to spend the remaining time you have on the surface? Why are you always searching for trouble? Can't you just leave this one alone?" 

Missy's loser is not able to take in the last of these thought messages because Missy's winner has buried his teeth in loser's ear basket and also the corner of his eye, so there is a lot of emotional and electronic static in the connection due to this world-class pain event. 

"It's ok man. You know, at least you are dying honorably. And it's karma, right? You have to admit. You had this coming. In these last few moments, forget about the teeth in your eye. This is you time. Think about, for example, how you will explain your path of self-destruction to LaMthyuh."