deranged tales from a sadoo stoodio

brumyren &

the future of whonymity

on merdre 29 a brumasaurus enters galadaps bedroom through an obscurity in valuation and befriendment spontaneously occurs and they tour through a menagerie of whonyms and whether the cages are small or large the whonyms think themselves free and the friends laugh a tad & awhile and watch the ruttings and gobblings a bit agog though commenting after over a few zazaracs that the expedition was remotely tedious for what is the whonym that it thinks itself so grand in its cages   but arent you a whonym asks brumasaurus

its the first thing ı remember mama saying  that our tasks to construct a plurality of worlds thatre invisible to whonyms and thatre more real than all worlds most real to whonyms and that these invisible worlds are inseparable from the one true visible world  less that of galleries and skyscrapers and michelinrestaurants and gazebos  lawnmowers iphones refineries knives though these arent excluded  yet more of the forgotten realms of forests clouds moss darkness   you brumasaurus are a creation of the meeting of those worlds and so am ı and so is the house of mama and so whether we who are of such birth are whonyms or some other thing   ı think that knowledge may be in the house of mama and playing hide and seek with me and this game seduces me to the marrow

we galadap my brister my sother are spovers in lirit

that may be brumy

that we fuliginous dinos are back on the radar must mean something

a theorys that as the gap between nature and whonymity  animalflesh and whonymflesh  increases   so nature and animal bridge the uncanny through shadow and enter the whonym from within

so the same applies to time

which takes the form of all shapes   something capitalist money doesnt have the capacity to recognize and as whonyms wear this money as their skin theyve lost the ability to know the many forms of time

i see we dinos growing in the whonym and bursting forth from whonym meat and returning to our foragings in a feral and demoneyed earth

ı wouldnt go that far

i see those born of widget and fern  swamp and vision  as the beginning of a new alphabet  the seeds of a future language that will merge image and meaning and the whonym will become as pleorotus braueri  trampled into the march of mulch  another taxon among countless taxa that was overspent

exciting concepts

i see dino and biped dancing to the drums of blue memories loosely hung in the once burnt forest  eyes open like stars and canopies of love flung over us like dreams

ı search for my species and find mockery and indifference   wander aimlessly in the rooms of the house of mama and listen for whispers of understanding   conventions parade outside like howitzers   this meat in which ım housed in an oven with bovines and porcines and screams silenced by pervasive feasting   ı search for my tribe like a ghost released from its encasement by spirits of unknowing and cry out the names given to me by midnight and echoes from outside of recognition return like summer flies   ım forlorn and wretched and dont know who ı am

but im brumy and im your friend

and the two outcasts venture into the night and detour the zoo until they pass through the customs of perception and enter naked the foyer of footstools of the throneroom of clouds