Tag Archives: Consciousness

Matheus Schurr

“It all began on a dreary night of November 1816. Whilst Mary Shelley was drawing energy from freak electrical storms and sudden weather changes to build Frankenstein at the Villa Diodati on the shores of Lake Geneva, a family in a small Black Forest village on the other side of the Alps called on Doctor Johann Tritschler to give his medical opinion on the condition of a thirteen-year-old boy named Matheus Schurr. The boy, according to Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, was tormented by dreams and physical ailments: ‘His speech was rapid and loud, his face was pale and with an expression of anxiety, he complained often of violent pains in his body, of headache, sickness, and an inclination to vomit, and he not only trembled when he attempted to move, but had constant convulsions’.”


“Medicine proved ineffective, and over the next few days the boy got much worse; he spoke with a rapidity that showed he had as little control over his tongue as over the muscles of his limbs. However, while the doctor was admonishing his patient to be more quiet and composed, by mere accident he stroked the boy’s face once or twice with his hand, and immediately the wildness in his looks vanished. To his astonishment, the boy became calm and spoke gently, and he discovered that the healing process lay not in the medicine he prescribed, but the hands, especially the movement of the hands over the body without actually touching. After several visits the boy was cured – or he recovered, which of course isn’t necessarily the same thing – and the Doctor reluctantly conceded that the cure might be the ‘existence of an imperceptible agent acting by means of magnetical influence’. Thereafter, with regard to Doctor Tritschler’s casebook, it was consigned to the medical archive.”

“1816 was a dark year. Solar events created prolonged geomagnetic storms, and it is likely they contributed to the climatic mood swings. They may also have contributed to the mood swings of a section of the world’s population: the eminent Scottish scientist, David Brewster, invented the kaleidoscope in that year, and before he even reached the patent office there was mass demand for this brief but spectacular break from the gloom – a demand met through numerous copycat versions. No doubt a coincidence, it was the year the Scottish Enlightenment dimmed and, with the death of Adam Ferguson, the year it was extinguished. It was the year of swift weather shifts from calm to chaos, of blinding bursts and deafening blasts from freak electrical storms. It was the year Frankenstein was born, though he didn’t actually toddle into the bookshops until he was two. It was the year of ‘blood or bread’ riots, of the heavy midsummer hail that flattened crops, of mass migrations and the death of tens of thousands. It was the year the volcanic eruptions of Tambora, on the island of Sumbawa in Indonesia, caused cataclysmic climate changes by draping a veil around the Earth. It was the year without a summer.”

Source:

https://www.counterpunch.org/2017/12/11/the-year-without-summer/

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Dreamsaver

Go to sleep
every night
like it’s normal

Go to sleep
tonight
get uploaded

Their handscreen
dragnet’s got nothing
on the one that’s
sucking on your spirit

This sweet sweet
frequency I can see
in the darkness
waiting for you

Go to sleep
tonight
get uploaded
get used


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Some unknown

You wake up
holding a glass jar
with a brain inside of a solution
do you stick your hand inside
to touch it slimy & beige
standing on the edge of a butte
or do you go & carry it down
to where the wildcats
are floating dry lips
invisible above the mud
go give it to the sandstone
night at the edge of the laurel
canyon with your sweaty hands
dancing by the fire after sunset
or a bird you’ve never heard before
unravels something inside of you
bringing liquid ripples
replicating sounding impossible
flies away
can you see the stars
with your eyes closed
not thru the Earth
but thru the trees
not until you’ve sweat
the infinite of last winter’s rain
from the high noon heat
lighting up the mountains
cleaning up the wastelands
of pines the beetles left behind
with wildfire awakenings
suddenly everything you thought
you owned
is either in your truck or burned
to the ground—where did the jar go—
you lose grip of the spiral
lightning flinging ’round
your wrist & can’t see
your shadow in the moonlight anymore
carve a message into it
found millions of years later
two words written
barefoot with a staff
of bone & petrified wood
a necklace of teeth
some feline, some human,
some unknown





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The seahorse

I wanna go
under there
again
fuck you & all your asphalt
take me back
beyond the shore
beneath the waves
I don’t wanna be a particle
anymore
I don’t wanna be a wave
again
I just wanna burn
burn
burn
these tetrahertz teeth
I just wanna breathe
breathe
breathe
my liquid lungs are glowing
I wanna go
underwater
again
I wanna close
my eyes right open
fuck you & all your pretty sky
take me back out
way beyond the shore
beneath the waves
I’m not gonna be a particle
anymore
I’m not gonna be a wave
ever again
I just wanna burn
burn
burn
in a circle
I just wanna breathe
breathe
breathe
the black water
where the iceberg
meets the seafloor
scraping
in the darkness
the red water
where it bursts
open to magma
exploding
in the






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Boltzmann’s wet dream

                                           In approximately ten
                                         to the power of ten
              to the power of fifty years from now
                   it’s been hypothesized
                  the entropy in what we call
                the universe will fluctuate
                                           just enough
                            for the disembodied
                brains to appear
                                                 in the vacuum
               like space ghosts
                                   roving the outskirts
of the very end of everything


                   who are these observers
                   will they even know themselves
                                   thinking, remembering
          fluctuating from above


  the iron stars collapsing
from quantum tunneling
   becoming neutron stars melting
                      into shattered black holes
                              subatomic particles
   all matter gone


you’re not supposed to make sense
                       you’re disallowed
           you’re a problem
          you’re the last sparks of phantom life
                    before it bangs like bubbles again


   you take the number of all the ways
    every subatomic particle
      can be combined
          you multiply it by ten
          to the power of ten
          to the power of ten
          to the power of fifty six
a rounding error


                              the time it will take
                              for one of the bangs
                    to start to look like this again





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I seen the moon led up against my death bot

ay there

                         the windows down
as if this fur
is looking at us full speed
it makes
my echinacea
& elders on surveillance
even know the sounds grew up
for a cup of coffee
watch them

             from a small raspy speaker 

         like avocados—

with a note on it scribbled & crossed off 

some of their

      sober cars

like you
shine skyway

           we gonna
distill the high

what about to collide

after soaking our feet in the roads ended then though
  

get too far

                           the old take bayside me 
I know the taster—I got a whirlwind
of death & light

   Campbells of a cop
but what every social media network
to collide

 Is curving

Yeah I mean I know if he’s fur
he looked me like a wildfire face

   but while I write

like jalapeños—

      “in the whole focus off the times…”

                         rippling

for once around

       giggling lost

I like kites overlooking the time

       of sucking our shoes                                                   

 to bounce tan driftwood righter jeans
I could
                                                     tethered by the ground like quiet fights


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Close your eyes

                                      You’re a sweet

                                           fractal fucking god

                       you got all your tentacles 

                  I’m in the back seat of the ride

                  laying down with my feet up

                         giggling like an idiot

                                          the power’s out

                              in the whole entire town

                         we’re cruising thru the dark

                                             back to Bradenton

                                 though it isn’t to me

                                    I can’t hear your stupid

                                            sober cartoon voices

                                        except for little bits like

                              gorilla suit this & Wayne that

                              I’m missing the thin warmth

                              of the girl who picked me

                            out of the crowd & stayed

                             in my arms until it was over

                 I wondered if it was the acid

                          we had to go our separate ways

                         tethered by a code of numbers

                                a holloweyed goodbye I can’t

                                     seem to forget—the fractal

                  fucking octopus god just shimmers

       like scales coiling underneath the surface

                        completely unknown to anyone

                              but I see you motherfucker






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Us

The last thing he saw was a rolling
paper made out of rice stuck in
a spiderweb beneath the

what was he even looking at exactly

would have been peeled back in layers
undetected until fully rooted down below
this connection establishes itself
during which it’s transferred

We’ve been lucky that most not only
don’t notice but they don’t even try to exploit
our own vulnerabilities in the wormway
under the cover of darkness the necessity
of sleep it’s not perfect but it’s working

This one wakes up without the alarm going off
so we never know if he’s awake or what
& there’s been complications
more incidents of portal breaching
with clear signs of recall signatured
we think some of them have seen us

I bet it’s warm like a bonfire
    a proximity that ripples out
  shines brighter on a map or mind
  a sea of flesh & fluids seamlessly
         intertwined tesselating from above
        there’s something about us
                     that you need
               like you’ve been here 
                or like you’re never
                       coming back




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