apophatic machine munchies

there are the young and boring, and there are the old and boring. the young and boring i can sometimes tolerate for 3 or 9 minutes. the old and boring i can't tolerate at all. why is this if they're equally boring?

an indifference to self is in direct proportion to an apophatic immersion in self

the young exploit this knowledge mercilessly. this is their innocent vanity and antidote to the preposterous wealth of the establishment

the orthodoxy that there's only one world, this world. and thus i must adapt to it. bullshit. no art (or much of anything else) would exist in such a spiritual-aesthetic straightjacket. consciousness, imagination, wit, subversion, play, creation - they're all of other worlds

the hello boat? of veri nici shifts to the smoke hashish? of cat human sadoo. and so my response changes from my name is not boat to a robust you bet i do - which in its enthusiastic explicitness shuts the merchants up

i too am ageist. i shun the old - not because they're more boring than the young ... but it's this quality of the notold - the power to believe in things (which if it lingers in the old just seems stupid) in the oceanic nothingness of their bodies - that i suck on like a perpetually reincarnated planet on the teats of the universe. (there are tricks for maintaining and even increasing this quality along the biological path. they're in code, not much in words, and seekers after them must learn the dark languages light speaks

when i'm open to conversation with tourists while travelling i stay in hostels. but in cat human sadoo i intentionally stay in a comfortable quiet guest house whose clientele primarily consists of the old and boring. this grants me the abyss of undistraction. i ensure i look as crazy as possible so that no one talks to me. their overheard conversations - which i tolerate to a point before putting my headphones on - are hideous

mary got a new french bulldog

but the skillset of doctors ...

just terrible what's happening in china

i read that churchill said that fear ...

don't forget to use your hand sanitizer

thailand's just lovely

a recent issue of partynepal magazine has young beautiful nepali saying the same things as the young and beautiful in magazines everywhere. come on. young and beautiful and magazined. surprise me

dat cat can moo

and matt can do

in kathmandu

and you?

another trope i've begun using is to say i'm from jupiter when asked of my domesticity, that i've come to earth because we've heard humans aren't taking good care of it and we jupiterians are concerned. i've got engaged in numerous lengthy conversations with this as a starting point. some seem, especially by the end, unsure whether to believe me

a related mythology i've developed - in response to the now routine offers of hash - is that where i'm from our kitchen sinks have nine faucets - for water, absinthe, psilocybin, ayahuasca, mdma, lsd, caffeine, hash, tobacco. on my planet starschmucks offers bhanguccinos and hash lattes. etc etc

at swayambhunath stupa a local engages me and we talk for half an hour about ecology, consciousness, politics. then the expected happens - he hawks holiness on me and tries to sell himself as my guru. i laugh and say i don't believe in holiness, at least in humans. maybe in mycelium. the conversation ends. capitalism again announces itself as the only cataphatic religion left on earth

to the carnivorous religious - you've been a {christian, buddhist, moslem, jew, hindu, ...} for how long and you're still obsessed with stuffing? (how quickly kenosis becomes forgotten, ... turns into concept, abstraction, disembodied knowledge)

the walls are thin in the guest house and the couple next door after conversing tediously for an hour have if possible even more tedious sex. 4 little moans from her, that's it. then someone goes to the bathroom. then she pukes all night. i want to see what they look like, i don't want to see what they look like

eye ear u doodoo

the middleaged european male tourists here - gross, beefy, jowly, like loudly talking statues reciting scripts that should never have been thought let alone written. like wax sculptures in the colonial archives, with an 8-track on infinite loop playing, made of their own earwax, the dumps, hoards & anys, balls'n'arrows of a meaty overcooked stegosaurus with too much sugary testosterone sauce. someone needs to spraypaint them pink, put arsenic on their testicles, wildflowers in their maws

why is kooba so much more difficult than asia?

no english no wifi no food