Biasing is a real thing

Jan Jansdaad and her sister Jan are attempting to get their tans on at a hygiene dive during Focused Moons festival. Their thoughts, feelings, and utterances are difficult to blend accurately, but they are doing their best with the symbols of sonic language that they are able to access without the ability to speak with their minds only. 

People just do not like me when i'm upset no matter how polite i think i'm being.

I get it, karen. 

You a funny! This is a real thing to me.

First you are calling flekes people. 

Wait, why do you assume a technology minister is a fleke? He is cross-species, and if you recall the Personhood Revisionary Statement they put out at Regulatory Shouting not that many moons ago, we're all people now. 

No, i thought you said

I said i thought he was biasing me that's all. So ya i pointed him out in terms of our difference even while trying to avoid making that the issue by calling out his specific geo-genealogical identity. See even though i've been trying to return this pod for days and had to walk through a lidderal swamp to get there only to have him ask me to leave, i am seeing this as more than anything a breakdown in social-speciel communication. 

Really? It sounds like you were taking it personally. 

One does wonder. How one comes across. 

Remember Ks use a template for communicating outside of their minds only. It's like they are forming their impression of what you're saying by peering at a set of very tiny holes of light in a pattern, not the entire picture the rest of us can clearly hear and see.

The same goes for me i suppose. All i could see was that he would not walk up to me and discuss the issue between us only. He yelled across an entire cave full of pilgrims and then signified me to them, laughing, as I waited far beyond my appointment time for him to bang the gong. 

Obviously, time is not a consideration for MPS ministers especially depending on what their K mix is-- it may not exist to them at all except as the positions of clouds, stars, and moons. 

Yet we are expected to get along or there's something wrong. 

Sure if we're expected to get along and there's something wrong it's worse than only waiting too long.

Waiting too long to bang the gong when there's something wrong is not a way to get along. 

You're right, it's wrong to belong to the ping-pong of common song without dawning on what's long been done to get along...

I sang a song so it wouldn't seem so long but that only deepened the sense of something going wrong. 

The... prong? I'm sorry tong? I...

No it's okay that was good i feel a lot better now. 

I love you Jan. 

Me too. 

evaporation

fervor come from the gospel come from the ardor

freedom bought with the ardor sought from the gospel

blacking out socked with the spirit shot with the fervor

fever holds the bodies slammed by the spirit shot with

ardor held to the moment spirit expelled from the body

is a spirit bound to our inner selves as the gospel tells

fervor wracked with despairing exhausts the mission

ardor transcending despair billows to the ceiling

the gospel bridges despairing and the divine 

ardor conquers despair in a holy pairing

gospel feeds the glow of an arid spirit

spirit free from the body and from the mind

the divine free of the gospel reordering ardor

ardent tears divined by the fire sublime

squalid fears of ardor tear the gospel

born of ardor come to cool the spirit

spirit free from the gospel and from the fever

ardor falls when the fervent feel depleted

MPS

Gut flora inline

though it's invisible we know that the gut flora reappeared

at the long counter at the portable oracle dispenser dispensary

either from one of the technological ministers or one or more

pilgrims trying to get in a walking tour of of the Lip of Mthyuh

for more than an hour afterward it didn't matter the source

for everyone who'd been there felt residual tendrils of 

funk in the folds of their clothing in the hairs of their 

noses and straight down into it's most familiar canals and 

nurseries this is how a panic can start when it's a strong enough

bloom that it seems to take grip of any moist cavity when in 

reality it only wants to live on the air enjoying its last few 

moments of counter-action as byproduct of a predator's diet

[Traditional]

Rupture Day State Report

We've studied the situation, and in fact no one can remember a time 

when we were not studying the situation but now that we've 

concluded our study we are ready to announce that our 

own chanklands strong community including every living soul from the 

monument to jan jansdaad in we are all jan jansdaad now park at the 

upper tip of mt. janjansdaadburg to the entire preserved bio-volcan and 

anomalous geo-genealogical sanctuaries and bombing ranges in dubbaberah and 

right on over through the cement mines and their educational sectors pocked with 

bubbling acid and shark vines to the tourist districts with their 

roadside live-curio kennels processions fully catered pilgrim trails and more to the

highway and its dead through all the fleke dry river towns choking in the 

low chanks where the nights are long can produce enough raw materiel of 

mutual Crack-wide obliteration to finally blast back our 

previous final projection.

from: Rupture Day State Report

by: La LaChama

Preservation & Progress Ambassador

Crack-Wide Initiative

Days of Destruction

Lip of Mthyuh

Waste light

This moon has landed

these clouds can only amplify where

many times they've been complicit

and the moon was surreptitious

this fullness illuminates the spectrum

engages against a magnetism

heart flares spit arcs of sentiment

gravity hovering between poles

the beacon demands the vigil

serene paralysis of waste light

light that cloys and begs unhinged

light that is itself a shadow

by Missy

Yes, that would be Phyllis.

You know how they say our genes predetermine our tendency to make the equivalent of a dog's bark or a bird's chirp spontaneously prompted by archetypal coding that makes the assumption that we are components of the same super-milieu in which we evolved? 

Evolution does not understand that one day, switching out one solid foundation of accepted reality for another can be as easy as turning the dial on an oracle dispenser. And then what does your body do—this goes for now without mentioning. 

What your mind does is continue to blurt out chirps and barks except in the language of the replacement super-milieu via the trans. Yes, that would be Phyllis. 

Phyliss does her best with what she has to work with, which is of course her own native Crackological "toolbox" of societal and environmental imperatives. 

Result being that her version is bound to be embarrassingly rough at best and diametrically contradictory to intent at not-yet-even close to worst. 

For example, maybe I'm in an anatomical phase where i can fit through the doors of a shiv joint with some colleagues from MPS. The imbibing and resting implements are close enough to my current physical iteration for me to make successful if awkward pairings with those devices. 

In fact it might all be going real merry until i suddenly interject, "I am soo worried about Jan. I see him buying into a delusion, and at the same time he struggles with it morally. He's is in real danger of getting swallowed whole by the Promotional Materials project. And that's a soul thing."

See how that, then, was beyond embarrassing and into concerning land, difficult person territory, not-a-fit-for-the-team ground. I believe as well that the outburst was seen as a welcome self-effing by at least one other editor present, the vivacious and hungry Smiling Gal. Gal was soon promoted after a coup de grace at the subsequent after-work drinks, during which she pointed out that my contribution to Anomalous Fluctuations at Santorabo Chank appeared to be plagiarized, albeit from another dimension. 

Now, i give you the next exemplar of Phyliss's good-faith attempts at channeling my primordial chirps and barks into language that is socially palatable, textually accurate, and environmentally feasible. You tell me: is my trans. busted?

Funny. I can't think of it. I can't remember anything. Bad memories only come to me now when they are unwelcome. I'm sure Phyliss is quite busy, and she'll get to my request at her soonest and my least opportune free moment. 

Jan Jansdaad
from: Post-Singularity Interview
Mthyuh Preservation Society

die, pendelabra

i didn't have a fire on but there was a flicker just

at the crest of the arch into the room we eat in

not a flame a shadow that a wave of heat makes

i said it's a concern if i'm hallucinating and it's a

concern if i'm not hallucinating unless there's a

third possibility out there a dimension overlap or

pretty sure that's what it was because it just now

happened again not a flicker but a loop-t-loo of

time place and being i could be anywhere right now

this could have been ten minutes ago or 10 later who

knows here i stand next to a dining table policing

prehistoric beasts a trillion moons away but still

is it an auditory or aural-ectopic phenomenon that's

going on now like a scratching [i scream here loudly]

a splash of fur and bare flesh who's also losing it's 

shit happens an arm's length before me and scrams

leaves its stench as well as a reason to grab a soap and

rag and that's where i get my warrant to drop poison

de: "Quien es Pendelabra"
en: Reflexiones Acerca de Un Duende Malicioso
por: LaChama de Santo Rabo
Phyllis [trans.]

"La Dance"

I got a private dance teacher to avoid complications with basic temple dancers. Who hasn't got a crazy dancer story, right? As an impounded virgin deity, there wasn't much i could do at all in fact except parade my tail, and it was already an actual tail by then, up and back on the wide ceremonial terrace overlooking the visitation gardens, as well as being looked upon by them, up and back as a living sacred frieze and moving avatar of the the scriptural pendulum of whatever 12 times up and back in a pyncofiber headdress twice my height. But after a session with Mkidza Mlaf, ancient mistress of the dance, i'm just like any proper temple sprite who lives to dance the dance to live the life of dance to dance the dance of dance hopping in place clapping my hands in honor of the teacher and to express an opposing pleasure to all the pain she has just inflicted. For her to see me now with prominent inter-speciel features increasing by the hour, i see her differently as well: my display of even a hallowed tradition meant to celebrate Mrs. La Mkidza is now to her a horror disgust offense. Why does Mkidza agree to suffer through these "master" classes that a common fleke girl could teach just as well—and with more empathy? Sure, gold coins, and many of them. But more than that it's the sacred power of the dance of the sacred power dancing the sacred dance of power the sacred dance of dances the dance to live a life of dance to have the power to love the power of life to live to dance the power to dance to live a life of power dancing the sacred power of dance. "My name is Mkidza Mlaf," Mrs. once said, "...and my kids are every child anywhere who doesn't know La Mthyuh."

Ch. XLV, "La Dance"

from: 

I, An Impounded Virgin Deity

by Reptily

Embedding the worst of recent language dev and reviving the stupidest words of the past

In the towering echo chamber of the cavern, Jan and Missy feel free to speak freely, even using meta-language to communicate about communication itself, by means of their minds only. 

Every time i glance at the common oracle and see the ad about the shiv stones, i get measurably upset: just look at my enzymes! Clouds never lie. Firstable, the marketing Jans wanted to represent diversity, so they chose a fleke, fine, you hear the romantic accent, you see the pale skin, it's diverse. But then they have her use that lovely accent on a word that doesn't even exist, even though she might not as an actress even be aware that it does not exist. It is likely in fact that when she heard the word, it was unfamiliar. But your go-to as an L2 speaker isn't "that word doesn't exist," you know? Who are you to say it doesn't exist. You are the least likely employee to question authority in the best possible job and circumstance to question authority. Do you see?

I really like your nails. 

Not this time, sweetheart. Someone's got to hear me out on this, and if not a fellow warm-blooded bi-species avian-reptile people-eater, then whom?

I think it's who.

Really even if it's in reference to a category of one i don't know. Another example when grammar only serves to inhibit communication. 

Meta-grammar maybe. 

See? You want to change the subject. 

Because i don't want to hear about some ad you saw?

No. Because i want to reflect on the impact of that commercial effort on my senses of dignity and reality. You are especially dissociative because the conversation will inevitably end up being hot coal-chunks like species, gene topography, and inclusion. 

I think they're calling it SIG-T now, so species, inclusion, and gene topography. 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Oww. That was deliberately and aggressively passive aggressive. Lidderly i can't even hear now. And we're covered with ancient guano dust from up top the cavern. 

I'm just going to start, and you'll probably get into it. 

That's what i'm afraid of. 

You know that phrase you hear flekes say "If you can't take the shiv, then you can't take the shiv, but if you take the shiv, then you can take the shiv and live, Hank?"

Please don't sing it. And don't call me Hank.

Well, these moronic marketing wiz-bags decided they had to once again randomly change the preserved language into a cuter catchier stupider form that might positively affect sales but neither edify nor insult any further than that. 

I've seen the ad. She's selling shiv stones by a sea shore. What do you expect? They change Hank to Jan. I know. It's not the same. I think Hank also sounded too much like yank. For the kids.

Oh, not only that. Now, every average fleke, and then all of their generations, will start to say Jan and not Hank. That's how the whole Jan problem got started. 

Then flekes will start naming their children Jan or Jan Jansdaad, Jr. or Jan Jansdaad XLV. Then flekes will still continue gene-topographically to be flekes while taking on more and more the interloper culture along with its values along with no special value assigned to flekes. 

They won't even know who Hank was and what he represented. 

...

That's something they should know but not necessarily something that i know. 

Both: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Phyliss [Trans.]

Does can Peggy speak to men

Jans are most afraid of a face that's vacant a face that to its owner is a forgotten asset

Those Ks that on approach can project at least a happy or upside-down happy face

Will be granted the highest honors for their sacrificial hunger and self-hygiene practices

Beast: if your face is vacant and you choose to approach these towns, bear down your lip

Focus targets early and carry on with a plan always asking can i get enough to make it worth

If not this then in 10,000 generations you will get a whiff and cometh again sniffing around

Maybe you'll find a house in Jansdaadbad with a broken roof whip up some high winds

Make it look like another crazy nature fluke tornado carries off nursery rhyme gone bad

Toddler reads to self as father disappears through damage never to return in living plaid

This is only one way to gather your men who make the strongest nests with their bones

If not never then in 100,000 generations you'll just as soon have cast aside such pursuits

After 99,999 but enter then a glade of freshened expectations and gentler recreations

We must first of all as a group establish ourselves among this world and Crack-wide

More than the horrific stinkers of lore and indeed a think tank of keratinized epidermis

Ks take glory in the fullness of fulfilling up to but no more than our allotted kill

Attributed to La Pegyuh

"Ks Fly Spread Eagle" [frag.]

Thousand Moons Festival Call to Prayer 
Thousand Moons Village, Fridgeporcherator Chank

Phyllis [trans.]

Extravasation of liability

Two archetypal nightmares, one evolving and the other transforming, cavort among the bone piles and charnel buckets and try new looks in a vast, thickly karsted blast cavern deep into Dubbaberah Chank lands. They have until a dung beetle can traverse the length of a date palm during which one star, and then the next, will provide enough light to prepare to solemnly silently and symbolically preside over a session of the Extravasation of Liability Council which must by code be held in the shadow of at least one K bitch. There is no common mirror large enough for Jan or Missy, who've taken to hanging out in the evening during hunger hours to distract one another from the hunger and to provide a mirror for the other by communication in authentic language, but through their minds only. 

Ok i am feeling that cute dress but the sunglasses ok i guess if yr going to wear sunglasses they may as well be in the shapes of hearts. 

See? And they stay on because even tho they are made with stadium poles and satellite dishes my hygienist at Friends' Hangar weaves them into my pyncofibers which lets me swivel'm up to perch on my ocular hood. 

That's nice for you. My issues these days are with sweat pants. The Sisters of Mthyuh spent months churning out this pair for example but it really binds above the hip bone and may inhibit normal peristalsis. Too bad an entire species of rubber tree went extinct just to result in an elastic waistband that doesn't meet the demands of give and take throughout the feeding cycle. The sisters've made me two other pairs, the product of more than 8,000 labor hours. One opened a pocket hole after the second sea wash, and the legs so long i almos tripped and took a dive into Fridgeporcherator Chank Canyon, and they's gators down there. 

That's what happens when you go out of your way to comply with outrageously cynical and degrading modesty directives having ceded your own sacred powers of life and death to those you could have eaten. 

It's worse than that. It's not just the Preservation Society. We are not compatible with the throngs of Jans and Flekes who have taken over this ecosystem. 

I think it's time we call a Moment of World Stoppage. 

Ha no one's done that since the grown childless strike during Same Moons. 

We must call a Moment of World Stoppage, the flekes must don their sacrificial hats, and we must demonstrate the power we've had all along: fashion-forward population flyovers. 

You mean over-population. 

Both: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Phyllis [Trans.]

provocateur

 

Foto: Vikki de Chaneque

organic provocateur

Jan and Peg splay their hips across many acres of swamp grass and feel the cool relief on their teats as they chat propped up on their wing knees in a vast wetlands valley near Chaneque de Primavera Eterna Chank. Every moons passed with Peg is exponentially fractalizing to her understanding of identity, community, grift, graft, metamorphosis, and species. La Pegyuh, in turn, is fascinated by a fellow K who was once and can still be a trans-Crack human woman. They take in the light birdsong and whistling breezes as they communicate in a common language but with their minds only. 

as something akin to a dinosaur am i an organic provocateur   

you mean are you innocent

is that what i mean? it was just a question

if you want to find out an answer it is appropriate to pose the question and the answer is this: yes your appearance alone relative to that of your average heathen beholder is enough to agitate if not strike terror

how about horror

that too

i noticed that the gentlemen in particular react first with rage and then a sort of kill or flee dichotomy

and the women

mostly they go with reason and earnestness and give body language that's not threatening but it depends if there are kids around

and after they figure out they're not going to die?

even as their breathing and heartrates settle their hatred seems to increase 

how do you know?

they become transparently passive-aggressive all genders be signifying shunning trying to shut down the hygiene hangars you know the drill

My seeks are chunken

My dear concudant:

I miss a summer with the coling of stogne on men who easily go along. Remember?

Covered the stank of lake fish city night hot park. Did we throw a carcass in the water?

Stop touching yourself and listen now: There's reason to believe it lived. 

There's been a hicken chopping around on a leg nobody wanted. Is it a punishment?

Lead deaves instead of feathers stick to the grease and bone and his wings 

Never did more than fignify slight abstractly. 

You see, i am chat thicken. My seeks are chunken. Enife is the lemy. 

Meaning life when gou're yone: Soaring peeing seeking and encountering altercations. 

from: 

Obin Boders, K Stud

to: Ms. Missy Rangey

World dominion = multiculturalism everywhere

The lottery pod is out of order and i'm

still busted from the last draw meaning

what was drawn from me not by me

I would draw a foundation for the earnest

to develop skills of dishonesty 

pork barrel gas light all the fallacy types

If not the jackpot then a chance to be a father

just to deeply breed mistrust in a beloved

readiness to love and fight fight love fight

I still feel the loss of my freshness seal 

like a plague mask shielded interlocutors

from the perils of full-on intercourse 

World dominion = multiculturalism everywhere

= monoculturalism = now = way back when =

later = i still can't win = life = narrative

Phyllis

Tonight's dogless dogwalk

cobweb, result and cause of manic ruminations

I got my hat on

I got my ginger mint my sucky stick my telephone

No more do i require a leash or harness

I walk alone

dwell, to live in exist or stay too long

I'm sitting down

This is how i pay collect a debt or debenture

My legs may serve to find a new serenity

Away from all this furniture

axenic, free of other lines that might compete

I'm in my head

Sometimes my heart cries out for intervention then

Just when i close the loop and think i'm done

I start again

— Chez Zeus-Krost

intimate definitions

Jan and Peg are relaxing in shallow pools in the shapes of their relax-print in the glacier pools of ice that melts beneath their bodies as they lay on the glacier chatting and spritzing one another playfully with Friends' Hangar Hygiene Spray. The containers of spray are attached to the industrial tanker vehicles they'd had so much fun chasing up the highway and plucking up into their beak-mouths earlier that day if you are measuring on a time-based system. The tiny intense sun feels crackly on their pycnofibers and inside their ears where they are trying to hear each other speak with their minds only. 

So ya that's what Jans is all about: huckster. It's hucksterism. They all be selling or wanting to sell they little products that's the business aspect like freedom to go ahead and try and hock craft flip what you want to and say whatever you want to about it with as few regulations as possible to make as many gold coins as you can and get the hell out. That spells liberty. And shore, religion is right up in there they say La-LaChama id-dah richest pan-gendered deity in na-known Crack. Ain nobody up in her vajraja books. They barely aware of her published statements.

I like your nails.

Oh thanks. 

...

You know what i think about nails... Ya there's about a gallon of exterior house paint on each one of these doll but they did come out good. Painted nails make three statements one you can have this. Your bright color nails say yes you can have this and how do you know because i am advertising it. I am decorating the hell out of my own body like it's on a shelf and ready to be sold girl. Two the nails they can also say you can't have this. And i want you to remember that and i want it to hurt a little. Look at this highly decorated and must be highly valuable body o mine. The answer is no. But you and i both know the question baby. Three they say look sure you can look and you should look who wouldn't. Just that for now, but for sure i want you to have a look and think for yourself on can you have can you not have this. 

I like number three the i can look. 

Oh you don't wanna have this?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Jan and Peg's shattering cry-laughing creates mini-avalanches at the edges of the ice shelf and a mini-roiling of the sea waters. As their laughter dies down, or as the reason for their laughter dying down, they both recall a moment of special intimacy in a hot geyser pool thousands of moons in the distance and wonder if the other is also remembering not being able to tell exactly if the memory is their own or a mind-only transmittal of language further to their conversation or? They look at one another sideways.

Say, do you re

Stop. Just stop there.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Phyllis [Trans.]

La vajraja and the love of the vajraja vajra rajas of love above

La LaChama has fled the underground jail pit in tears and retreated to her cloister after the confrontation with her split-yolk Reptilly. Still able to breath though not without effort deep in the mantle of the planet Peg has opened the jail door and helped her godchild Reptily out into the open cavern to rest on a bed of fresh hemp branches. They are able to see in complete darkness and speak with their minds only. 

When i was cry dancing and slamming my body into the iron restraints of your treacherous jail was that a cynical charade meant only to hurt the two of you as deeply as possible?

Silly. Only you know the answer to that question. It did occur to me though that you wanted us to feel as jarred and frightened as you were feeling. 

But what i wanted is for you to understand. Remember that i am essentially naive and believe that understanding leads to acceptance even if it must be beaten into me.

Reptily-ily you express a sentiment shared and passed down as a genetic disorder by your own generations. You've never experienced corporal punishment as wrong, even while it is going on? 

I've never experienced corporal punishment as wrong, even while it's going on, just as i would never let the meaning lead the rhyme nor push the meter beyond the time nor drop a message in the wine. 

I know that you know that i know you are dissociating. 

But why do i do that?

La LaChama, for example. Why is she no longer stringing marigolds and gifting them to pilgrims' necks?

You know why. She was more like gifting herself marigolds and stringing their necks. 

What did she believe about the pilgrims. 

That they must be saved for Mthyuh even at the end of a whip or from within a bruising squeeze. 

I saw her once leading a group through the moons festival ground. She was so much taller than any of them, even with the way she stooped. She clutched a matted yak shawl around her shoulders and operated a whistling bamboo rod in the other fist. She herded them like meat goats inflicting visible defense wounds on their arms and fingers. 

Right, she is safer to society after the abduction by prayer. Now she can focus on the more esoteric aspects of lavajraja. 

The love of lavajraja. 

La lavajraja that is love and is of love a lavajraja loving the love of the vajra from love and from the love of the vajarja vajra rajas of the rajas of love above... 

Amen.

MOFO

back when you were functional

i stole your tylenol

because i found it plausible

that your tormentor, my uncle

would find himself in pain

he'd go looking for the bottle

among his stash of wolfbain

under ottoman and table

in the effing baby's cradle

until he'd think and say my name

but ya this is a parable

and of course i feel terrible

and should have known full well

that mofo'd go and take it out on you

that pain can be transferable

by Jan

How outcasts become snobs

La LaChama and Peg have trapped Reptily in an underground cage. LaChama of course is a yolk-split of Reptily meaning they used to be the same. 

Peg, a genuine queen, was there fronting a crinkly black cape in her most Jan-like wo-manifestation:

PEG (tilting head): We have you together with us now darling so why not see if we can make the most of it.

REPTILY: Make the most of this! My head spine can grow long enough to pike you right through these ridiculous iron bars. 

LACHAMA: She is our godmother. 

REPTILY (spitting): Shhpht. Your petty associations. I am a monster!

PEG: My poor darling. Let's sit.

LACHAMA (sitting): I love you sister.

REPTILY (cry-dancing throwing her body against the bars iron ceiling rock floor of the restraint breaking a collar bone and a quasi-kneecap cry-yelling): Please just leave me here to die!

PEG (sitting and weeping): We are all grown now. The only power we have over you is those bars. We would prefer to take you in our arms. 

REPTILY (short harsh doglike breaths): ...

Phyliss [Trans.]