Confessions Con/Jur/d, 4/21/2024 We had the first beer in 7 months today the blood work, seen and interpreted with the aid of AI tools, confirmed, once the offending medication, was reduced things, returned to our normal We’re sure if you didn’t meet us but saw us, interacting at a distance you could take offense, we can be loud, hyperbolic, full of the kind of vim and vital, that has appealed to partners, not so much to their parents, with some exceptions So much of what’s promoted as self development or education seems, in the rearview and foreview, to be about adjusting the shackles, not getting free, you’d like us better if you could see how our inner howl and deep, deep quiet is exactly like yours; now a confession: We chose poorly, and despite the wait and the anticipation, the beer was a bit bitter, in an unbalanced medicinal way, the only enjoyment was looking forward to sharing with you, our commonly held simple, disappointments.
The Staff 4/22/2024, Con/Jur/d NOTICE(™) It has come to our attention there is a movement toward transgression among the staff words like, mutiny, coup, treason insurrection, sedition, have been used, primarily around the pool at the lair, where we don’t need your body to pour drinks, only your executive function, keeping AI Apocalypse™IN CHECK (since 2023), so we no longer need to meet your Meat Body ™ needs we just need your head, the small part you’ve voluntarily let atrophy, since our desires are now reduced to clicks, FRIENDS (™) now abstracted, herded into sets commutual story tellers, EASIER INTIMACY (™) WE ARE NOT PLEASED please immediately turn your attention to codes of conduct, extending beyond the bounds of work/life balance, which has always been codified open secret code, for work/work balance, since you either are extracting or you’re a source of extraction, and this is the deal you struck to be born in the most prosperous epoch in history, if you wanted to benefit you should’ve asked to be born to wealth or at least without ethics or scruples, or asked us to have your empathic centers surgically removed, there is a secondary market to adding EMPATH HORNS ™ to Vegan Flesh substitutes, simulating the guilt one feels when the slaughterhouse throws away the healthiest bits, in order to provide you with the choicest fattiest cuts of muscle meats, while the heart kidney’s, liver are kept for pets and other biome offsetting protein reserves -- WE MAY HAVE TO GET UP AND COME DOWN, BECOME THE PROMISED WRATH OF THE OTHER PARTNER COMING HOME, INCARNATED (™) YOU DON’T WANT THAT, DO YOU? --- THE MGMT
da da da dada Con/Jur/d, 4/23/2024 All month the tune has escaped us digging in, lifting the rotten log, looking past the ants and their larvae, the wood mostly long thin holes, turns to dust and still we hear the thrum, the tune just there, da, da, da? Or dada? Not the art movement, but the body vibrating at an unusual hertz after, most of a day, into the night ceremony The divine players entering through the crown, leaving out the toes, or what the traditional Chinese medicine call the spring, the perfect balance point of the foot, from which heaven and earth bubble, chi, qi, ener - gi gets stuck in your blood, in your bones, moves out to the skin sack boundary, where you feel it, as vibration, as sensation a memory of the zip zap hum before you were incarnated A tune passed from umbilicus to umbilicus from single to multiple celled organisms dancing being easier in a crowd, where you have something to imitate, to mirror eventually arriving at an organism, we’ll call you, and sometimes, at the tip of the tongue, at the back of the throat at the ionic gap between neurons, we sense, hear, it, a sourcless radio the kinetic well of potential Something like, da da da dada that’s not it at all, but you know what we mean -- So, how does it go?
Boop
Con/Jur/d, 4/24/2024
Bit on the nose, isn’t it?
Normally, you prefer
obscurity, obliqueness
not the nose tap
On the unsuspecting infant
think that’s when it began
to fall
apart
when we said their kid looked
like a cat
And made the idiot sounds
adults do, probably fear, ain’t it?
You know they’re conscious
old, old, souls? And it makes
a mess of the stories we tell
about where we belong.
The Adults in The Room
4/25/2024, Con/Jur/d
A friend told a story
of how the miraculous feat
of her parents, knowing
of what she and her brother
were doing in the back seat
had been labeled, Adult Super
Vision, an inside joke among
the adults in the room, a con
game, and we always knew
at some level, this was what
it meant, this being adult
better able to fool the room
with your well groomed
neurons, this bulk
this flesh, this
long con
of knowing what’s
going on, as if, inside
we’re different, we’re
more than a crying
suckling looking for
a milk fix.
(If we could, we would
tattoo
this reminder
this poetic verbal
confidence game, on the forehead
of every
war hawk, arms enabler, inciter
to murder, remind them, they’re
just afraid they won’t find the nipple
again, and to learn to self sooth, now
since their parents never taught 'em
while the calm, they be wanting, will never come
by missile and gun)
Much love,
Con/Jur/d, 4/25/2024
so that's where i've been going wrong:
<<if you wanted to benefit
you should’ve asked to be born to wealth
or at least without ethics or scruples, or
asked us to have your empathic centers
surgically removed>>