Dual State Kitty: Episode 1 The Heretical and Lewd Writings of Kyle Jacobs.
Harper Gracie Fletcher [HGF] lived on one of the universes with a sun, just down the block from the collectivist clinic, kitchen, and public access pantry.1 The streets were overgrown with grass and weeds, and bits of concrete and asphalt that remained from the antiquated transportation infrastructure were pushed to the side of the road to form lanes for bicycle and cart traffic.2 People didn’t pick weeds unless they were cultivating vegetables in the area.3 In the AM, Gracie was aroused by the REDUNDANCY OFFSET TRANSMISSION [ROT]4 At 8:40 sharp, a series of jokes, interviews, and stories would sound off near the hammock, on which he was sleeping. Broadcasting in a different language each day, was the station’s way of consistently drawing from a different cultural reservoir each program, thereby disorienting the listener, and bringing them into the present at the same time. [Co-Incidentally.]5 When he woke up at Nine-O-Four, HGF experienced a pair of Czechnian men with desert-toned suits and bold framed glasses, conversing old leather chairs, about the bold palatability of a Demachian Universe6. The show was named: “Observation, Sub-Conscious Processing, and Curiosity.”7 1
The idea was that small businesses could share in the responsibility of philanthropy, consequentially both supporting themselves, and still able to manage their share of social responsibility, which in this context, extended beyond simply making capital, and providing for the welfare of those in their employ. Co-operative structures, 1 sharing in the fall of a standard of living that is associated with wealth redistribution. 2 They had horses, but a lot of the work was carried by caterpillar-form bicycles that were peddled by a team of transport workers, carrying their shipment to wherever necessary. Hills were discouraging, as were long distances. I suppose the train tracks offered a form of assistance that these cyclists could not manage – tracks have a greater longevity than streets. Carbon footprint? Not too much of a problem. The streets were the primary issue, and they were the last to go, because humans already had so many cars, and were accustomed to driving great distances whenever they desired to do so. Evolution. 3 Sterility V. Fecundity: The age of pesticides and mass transit were transformed. Instead, we got Owls, Rats, Cats, Bats, Spiders, Gnats, Worms, Fungi, Feral dogs, Birds, Fish, Lizards, Amoebae, Rolly-Polys, Lice, Herbs, Rivers, Lakes, Oceans, Trees, Ozone, and Air. Mutual-Symbiosis and Shared Co-Habitation. 4 An innovative radio broadcast, intended to extinguish, or generate culture, depending on whether you believe that we create our own culture, or are regurgitating methods of relating to the world around us, Thoughts consumed by prior inhabitants, or to be crude, occasionally defecated. Does the shit turn into compost from which new life can be grown, or do we swallow it, unsuccessfully seeking nutrition? Perhaps, in retrospect, an analogy could be formed relating the ROT method of cultural genesis to the experience of consuming psychedelic plants. “ROT your brain!” T-Shirts, featuring a statue of Mozart in compost pile. They sold a variant model to the students at the Conservancy where, in addition to being settled in a compost pile, Mozart has a mushroom growing on the top of his head. Commercial success? Hard to say. You’d think the kids would just make their own. 5 By using a different language each time, and varying the content and type of their programming, ROT never duplicated their programming. Some people were interested in particular types of programs, and would, on occasion, submit an idea to the station to air. By the time the submitted program had gone through the broadcasting system, the submitter may not even recognize their submission / topic, because ROT would transmute a Research Paper: “Bio-Medical Technology Issued to Human Beings by Alien Races”, into a Lebanese Opera / Narrated Choreography of Instructional Cooking. 6 “Demachian”, relating to a machine, and associated with philosophies of determinism, and cosmic dramas, Gnostic in type: “The Empire Never Ended,” juxtaposed with “Divine as Living Information”, both concepts presented in the book, VALIS, written by Phillip K. Dick [PKD].
Demon Cat [DC] was on him before he got out of the hammock, though it did not prefer to be called as such. HGF rarely had to call on it at all, as it seems they had been roommates for eight or nine years at least. Sometimes they would do Sudoku puzzles together, but more often than not, they would have a smoke and sit buzzing for a minute in each other’s company, before moving on about their day. This morning, DC and HGF played a game they made up involving the strategic placement of sticks and pebbles8 while drinking coffee, and eating bran muffins. Following breakfast, HGF brushed his teeth, so they would be discouraged to fall out. “Demachian…,” he thought, “I’ll have to look that up today at the Conservancy.” When he was done at the sink, he spit out blood and phlegm in the waste bucket, and put on his winter clothes. Hybrid Wool, Cotton, Goat and Cat Hair Parka, Hemp Reed Sandals that were insulated with the skins of Dead Animals, and a pair of Utility Pants, manufactured and distributed by the Dock Workers’ Union [DWU]9. Today was the Semblance of Fortitude Festival [SOFF]10. The town would be alight with ribbons, and young people would strolling through town; arm in hand, baskets of roots, corn and tomatoes in tow, congratulating each other on the start of their day. On HGF’s way out of the house, ice crunched in patches where snow had not yet melted, he heard a song sung by some young Rabble-Rousers in the square across from the apartment building. “We made it through another night, So wonderfully, a glimpsing Glory Day, Inevit’ly higher, all promises skyward, May Gravity show you the way, DOWN!” To which, circles of children dive and roll, laughing, upon the grass.11
If HGF knew how to speak Czechnian, he may have gained some insight into the Nature of Reality. If any of this happened, it occurred on a sub-conscious level, and would manifest after experience, memory, and processing. ROT deals in death and rebirth. 8 DC always won, but HGF was a good sport. Being trans-subjectively immanent (a demon), DC was restricted to recycled thoughts, and the expression of these thoughts was his primary method of communication. Originality and Creativity were not dominant characteristics in DC, though it would seem so, because he had such a vast wealth of experience to draw from. Multiplicities of forms and no physical body to age and die leave a residue of observation and opinion, which constituted DC’s expression, but it’s not a good idea to call DC a “Residue”. 9 Most projects were collectivized. 10 SOFF was a celebration of existence. It could happen on any day, like an Un-Birthday Party where the Celebrator had forgotten their Actual Birthday, but this one had a Late Harvest ambience to it. The first snows had come, and people enjoyed the reminder that they had made it to this far in the year, and hoped that they would be able to do so in the year to follow. 11 A society of crickets, nearby, had gone to sleep, shortly after concluding their “Dissertation on Evening Songs, and their Effect on the Mourning.” It was a testament to the efficacy of their cultural heritage, and a Crest-Point in the Cricketdom Watermark Collection [CWC]. Crickets dream in silence.
For some people, SOFF was a reminder of the struggle between desire and obtainment, and an expression of gratitude, which celebrated the vocations that facilitated the longevity of this cyclical pattern. Harper’s main desire was to be around the ocean – Everything else was Vocational Training. On HGF’s way through the town, he plotted his course so that he would pass through the Town Square, the Farm to Home Market, The Conservancy Library, and finally, to the Bay and Warehouse Sector, his place of employment. He watched the couples and travelers in Town Square, and bought some multicolored squash at the Market, and arrived at the boarder of the Conservancy. As he walked to the Library, all he could really notice was the color of the leaves, and the tight pants of the young women on campus. “I don’t know how those kids handle themselves,” he thought in desperation. “No idea.” The Library was a sanctuary of sorts, where exhausted students and travelers alike could fall to sleep and drift out of the frenzied pace of their lives.12 The Dreaming of the Library was a strange place to exist, if you happened to pass by there. Couples were in the Childrens’ Book Section, mutually, and sometimes orgiastically, involved in with one another. In the Organic Chemistry Section, a beautiful human, invested in tragedy, was on the Nod from his morning morphine injection; the air around him vibrated with those terminally low frequencies of death – the Deep of the Valley; he was going to be a famous chemist. In the Amphitheatre there were more humans having sex with one another, and in the gutter outside, another human was retching up a lung; the smell of cirrhosis and cancer rose up from the pavement. Sometimes you might see another dreamer; a Witness.13
They didn’t advertise this Oasis of Learning in the Conservancy pamphlets. All they discussed was the Internet, and its vast associated network of Research Papers, spreading out like a web for baby spiders to explore. I suppose they ate logical inconsistencies, and adolescent pre-conceptions – Flies of the Mind. You didn’t need to go to the Conservancy to do this; in fact, the entire social institution was an intense combination of puerile behavior and stringent study regimens. The Library, Alcohol, Marijuana, Opiates, MDMA, Dances, Sexuality, and the Circus were all ways that the students relaxed. The rest of the time was devoted to Study Hall, Tobacco, Caffeine, Amphetamines, Books, and Computer Terminals. 13 Amidst the spectrum of studies available at the Conservancy, there is a group of students that are only secondarily involved in studies at the Conservancy; their primary occupation is the observation of human behavior, and the anticipated discovery of divinity expressed within and as matter. Story is that one of them took too much DMT, met Jesus in the Astral Realm, and was unable to return to existence as he formerly knew it – the reasonable conclusion at that point was that he needed to commit suicide in order to be begin the Transmigration process by which souls move along through the Karmatic Wheel; he ended up moving back in with his family after hospitalization and removal from the Conservancy. Another ate Psilocybin Mushrooms so that he was tripping for a consecutive 28 day period, at the end of which, he claimed that he was now psychic, and that his Third Eye had been opened, and now he saw reality as it really was, and could heal people. Still another at one point claimed that taking LSD was equivalent to reading a book, and getting hit in the head with a brick; in spite of this observation, I met him along the path outside of the Library, where a bottle was flashed to me. “What’s that?” I said, not grasping the significance of the vial. “PSSHH! ENERGY-FUCKING-SHIT!!!” was his only reply, before moving forward in experience. You are what you eat. “My Grandma always says, ‘Tell me the names of all your friends and I’ll tell you who you’ve become,’ and my friends are some of the best people I’ve ever known.” – Gabe Cardinal.
Harper looked around him, and thought of the time that had once been. Interesting thing about the time that had once been is that déjà vu memories seem to disregard linear time, by suggesting overlay, or cyclical patterning – the conceptualizing process of structuring time made HGF nauseous and disoriented – a nauseous headache. Harper did not know where or when he was, but the environment maintained its presence around him, and eventually, he found his way to the Research Terminal [RT]. HGF: “Define: Demachian” RT: “Output Error. No Entries Found. Correlative Suggestion: ‘Is, As, Of, or Relating To: The Machine.’” “Complex Machine…,” Harper thought; “I wonder if Nitrogen Atoms have Research Terminals?’ HGF: “Define: Solipsism” RT: “
The view or theory that the self is all that can be known to exist. .” On his way out of the library, HFG noticed a young couple making out on the steps, this time in reality. His hand on her Breast; impressive. Does life at the Conservancy fashion this, or do the Nitrogen Atoms? “Self-Reflective Nitrogen Atoms,” Harper concluded as he walked down the steps, past the couple, and on the path out of the Conservancy, and toward the Bay. HGF arrived at the Dock Yard in time for the Third Shift, and proceeded past the Security Terminal, through the Entry Yard, and into the DWU Employee Processing Building. Check in Assistant at the Docks [CAD] : “Got a Wrench?” HGF: “Yep.” CAD: “Got your Tobacco?” HGF: “Yep. CAD: “Been Caffeinated?” HGF: “Yep.” CAD: “Recently?” HGF: “Yep.” CAD: “Good. We’ll see to it that your dick’s good and soft, and off to Competency Testing you go!” HGF: *I didn’t know Competency Training was today… I wonder what they’ll be testing on? Geometry? Chemistry? DWU Creed? I hope not.*
CAD: “Mr. Fletcher… Mr. Fletcher, your cooperation please!” HGF: “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me.” CAD: “Place your Phallus in the Receptacle.” Gracie complied. The Receptacle, as it were, was an electrified and pulsating hydraulic sack. Within forty-five seconds a human male’s vitality, semen, and impetus for change vacated his body, leaving fifteen seconds for a DNA sample and bleach rinse, while whoever happened to participate on the donor end shuddered, awake, but powerless. There were six stations points of Extraction available for use by the CAD, in the daily processing of the DWU Employees; that works out to 6 Extractions-Per-Minute [EPM]14. “If only they were this effective at removing shit from our system,” a man once joked, while ahead in line of HGF; he was shortly euthanized. Harper Gracie Fletcher limped away from the clinic, and came to rest by a bench the building, and to the left, where a small wildflower garden existed within view, contrasting with the graffiti and broken windows adorning the abandoned warehouses adjacent to the Docks. HGF: “What’s this!” H screamed, clawing at his face in anguish. “Where’s my utopian vision? My Age of Legislated Principalities?” DC15: “I’ve got your Principalities right here … How ‘bout a cup of Joe, Mr. Fletcher?16”
With a grounding wire inserted into the anus of each male, the process could be expedited to engender as many as 18 EPM, which equates to the processing average of one worker per 20 seconds. Unfortunately, the Dual Contact Extractions [DCE] were more resource intensive, and was believed to propagate a marked increase in the spread of communicable diseases, where male populations of DWU Employees were the unerring vectors. Health Insurance Premiums went up, and it was deemed more cost efficient to abandon DCE practices at the expense of a more efficient processing time. 15 Demon Cat usually appears out of thin air. Almost always like you weren’t thinking about him, but then you were, and a shadow made up of cartoon drawings and inky specters came out of your peripheral vision, and remained, bold though wearingly, in focus. The constitution of Demon Cat was more of a style than anything else. Once you recognize the Style Frequency Signature [SFS], it is possible to be consciously aware of the experience of DC’s snipped inner commentary, or if one has temporarily manifested its disposition. [I’m not certain DC can reproduce, so a certain degree of androgyny is present, though ‘biologically asexual’ would seem to describe him better.]A characterization of DC’s personage might be intently focused on superficial existence, though highly attuned to emotional expression; this combination tends to comes across as functionally jaded or aloof. DC also tends to express himself as highly sexualized, [though his projected affections tend to lack a nurturing and compassionate aspect, and he has no body, only appetite.] and passionately lethal. I guess for a demon, life resembles eat or be eaten. A DC Kinsey/Maslow Scale might read: 6 % egotistical, and 6% altru-curious. 88% is left as a Remainder Reminder [RR], which suggests to us that 88% of Neverything is STILL Neverything. DC knows this, in fact, it is the one thing he is determined to forget, so I don’t believe he would ever tell you. The entire arrangement resembles Flaming Crumbs on a Spinning Plate, balanced by a Bear in a Pink and Yellow, Polka-Dot, Designer Tutu, pirouetting on a single clawed toe, held aloft by the snout of a Tortuga. I don’t know how many Tortugas there are.
HGF: ”Demon Cat! It’s good to see you. Soymilk please,” DC: “Not a problem.”17 HGF: “Thank you, so much! Do you want a smoke?” DC: “Got my own, thank you for the offer.” And so it was that, quite congenially Gracie and Demon Cat reclined and spoke on the considerations and prospects for the day. HGF: “What an ass on that Hospitality Nurse at the Extraction Clinic, eh? Bet it’d be a rush to have sex with her! I’d be grabbing those hips all night if I could.18 DC: “You need to burn that place to the fucking ground. “ HGF: (blank stare.) DC: “Just saying…” Silence. DC:”So, what are you smoking nowadays?” HGF: “Plant spirits can’t get enough of me.” DC: “I’m sticking with energy sapped from the human condition. Been rollin’em off of your shadow for years; Collective ‘you’ of course. Share and Share Alike.” Silence. HGF:”Want to play Sticks and Stones? You could go first.” DC: “I don't need the light. I'm blind. Count to three and try to take it. I do not try to win, but to arrive at perfect control, to not be afraid of bullets. Shoot! They hardly bleed. I offer no resistance to the bullet. I let it pass through the capillaries of my flesh. You still want to duel with me? It does not grieve me to kill you, because death does not exist. I will let you shoot first.19”
You can almost imagine question marks drifting away in smoke like Hookah From A Caterpillar [HFAC]. Sometimes the smoke smells like Carbon Black and Petroleum – it’s difficult to get more earthy than Ashes and Dinosaur Bones, unless you’re smelling HFAC Musk. 17 th Among other things, DC was especially good at brewing coffee. It’s quite possible he patronized a 4 Dimensional Café, because the coffee was almost instantly available, and was always delicious. 18 It was a well known fact that HGF, in all likelihood, couldn’t. In fact his record speed for Ejaculation-En-Coitus [EEC] was something like 13 seconds. 19 The Master of the Desert – El Topo.
HGF:”Unpleasant, though it’s seeming, I take my cues from breathing and wait to sort out higher meaning. – This Coffee’s treating me alright, best not get involved in a Star Fight, my galaxy’s needing the light that I’m feeding it, I’m bleeding with it. – Court Jester is leadin’ the orchestra’s reason, off without a beacon, till it’s Hangin’ Season.” DC:” I judge wisely, as if nothing ever surprise me Lounging, between two pillars of ivory I'm lively, my dome piece, is like building stones in Greece my poems are deep from ancient thrones I speak I'm overwhelmed, as my mind, roams the realm My eye's the vision, memory is the film Others act sub-tile, but they fragile above clouds They act wild and couldn't budge a crowd No matter how loud they get, though they growl and spit Clutch they fists, and throw up signs like a Crip And throw all types of fits I leave them split, like ass cheeks and ragged pussy lips.20” HGF: “PSH, ‘Die now!’ Quick to fry. ‘The Ostentiatious Bumbler isn’t such a bad guy.’ Sly. Couldn’t hold a wayward eye. ‘We’re processing the Angry Fly.” Bettah hold my candle high, ‘SKY!’ cry Vandals, deep and wide. DC: “Sharks in the dunk tank, vipers in the garden Locusts stole the groceries out the local Farmer's Market All God's critters hold positions Some are violent, some are victims Each alive is an equal and vital piston I support So when the piranhas honor New York My daddy long legs dangled and mangled for sport And while I bring in every dink in the kingdom with open wings It all boils down to them shit-soaked pigs The pigs, the pigs, the dregs of what y'all aim for The gluttonous muddy stomachs under the pudgy cakehole Two-track braniac using the food and payroll To chew up and consume every cookie, crumb, and peso And place a cloven hoof on the lucrative when convenient As the bourbon-odor smokers' coughs smolder off the Cohiba If Noah had the benefit of hindsight on his ship He could've snatched two unicorns and left behind the motherfucking....21” HGF:”All of the sudden, we’re here again, deep blue and mirror again, prickles in the nerves where psychogenic verbs like ‘listen’ take on new meaning. Knock thunder on the sky and see how that’s being.” 20 21
Killah Priest – 4 Chamber. Aesop Rock - Pigs
DC:”Lies love a liar.” HGF:”I keep the Fire.” DC:”That was nice.” HGF:”Yea, thanks, there’s stuff in there from people I’ve talked with, movie lines, or ideas that I liked. A lot of the rhyme scheme came from MF DOOM and Aesop Rock. I’m kind of limited in my vocabulary. You got pretty dirty there.” DC:”Don’t tell me about ‘dirty’, I’ve lived through Crusades, BITCH. Don’t tell me about ‘dirty’. I’ll go fucking JOB22 on your ass, and after it’s all done, maybe then, you’ll be able to spell ‘dirty’ HGF:”Well, I did my best, and I called it as it was experienced. Maybe I wasn’t dirty, but at least it felt like truth.” DC:”Truth is in the Fire, As long as you keep the beat23.” Silence. HGF:”Hey, about burning down that extraction building.” DC:”What about it?” HGF:”Couldn’t we just not participate?” DC:”Nothing wrong with a little Civil Disobedience.” HGF:”You say that like you know what it means.” DC:”I intuited the author’s intent.” HGF:”Well, you think I’d lose my job?” DC:”Certainly. They might fire you on the spot, or ship you to a foreign country and appropriate all of your belongings in the name of the Union.” HGF:”Better to Disband then? I could just withhold my participation in the midst of the procedure.” DC:”Settle your affairs beforehand if that’s what you’re going to do.”
It seemed like DC was always threatening to “go JOB on somebody’s ass”, but he never followed through with it. Cats tend to be lazy, playful, vicious, threatening, skittish, reactive, and largely impulse driven. I’m not certain DC had the persistence or vindication to JOB anybody. He’d slaughter an army of stick figures, no problem, but once the bloodlust had passed, he preferred to Drop-Out at Burnout’s Café, order a Fixxed Coffee and practice his Vapor Art. 23 This is about the closest cue toward enlightenment that one might receive from DC.
With the snuffing of a smoke, that was that. Tomorrow, H would simply not participate in the extraction process; that being decided, H put on his sandals, and walked toward the Forman’s Hall, to inform Him of the news. As Harper was entering the warehouse where The Forman was reported to be, Angela Turing stopped him. Angela looks kind of like this: AT:“Demon Cat told me what you’re doing -- You think you’re GANDHI or something? What are you trying to accomplish?” HGF:”I’m tired Angela.” AT:”Don’t give up! Let’s think this through.” HGF:”I wish Burnout were here, he’d know what to do.” AT:”You fucking moan all of the time. I’m just going to call you ‘PORN STAR’ if you don’t liven up a bit. If the Extraction process has got you down, just have kids / copulate, become a monastic, or give yourself a vasectomy. We all work here at the Docks, and if things are going to change, it is going to take an effort on behalf of each of us.”
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