Creator / imaginer: Dabbler in art, literature and sound.
Far beyond the dying waves that make landfall,
Within the dark depths of unseen mystery,
A watcher in the water observes mankind,
With deathlike white eyes, unmoved, but all-seeing,
An ancient enigma waiting below the surface,
Formerly of cosmic residence, now held in a watery cell,
The watcher enters dreams, accumulating secrets,
Existing beneath the dark waves for aeons,
Ready to arise when summoned,
To spread madness and doom upon the earth.
We are hardwired to provide maximum resolution,
Once there were eyes, now cameras are the solution,
Life means desperation for the technologically devout,
The sky outside remains dark ever since the blackout,
The landscape is rain soaked where the buildings stand tall,
Here, where we were nearly wiped out by a nuclear war,
So many missiles, unchecked AI sub routines fired those,
Using cold machine logic to destroy unknown human foes,
So, this is our world now unhappily ever after,
Where eyes keep recording and headsets transmit data,
The wealthy moved off world, and the poor were displaced,
Desperate people become cybernaughts, lost in digital space.
A journal blog post incoming, an attempt to defrag my brain, I’ll do my best to contain my rambling. The current me has been overthinking, a lot, over obsessing about all the usual nonsense even though life has been relatively uneventful, I’ve taken active measures to ensure I feel ok as much as possible, so most stress is probably of my own design.
Look, on the whole things are ok, but I seem to worry a lot more lately, often without any reason for it, I have concerns for my health (physical and mental), I worry about my wife, my family, and the future. Death has been an active thought passenger and every ache or pain felt sets my mind off, I have been seeking alternatives to the real world that don’t include chemical or liquid substances. I’m escaping reality where I can and this has really helped. For a few years I have actively avoided the media and have recently limited my social media exposure, which is having a positive effect. The usual trappings of sadness still creep in, feeling old, ugly, fat, useless and out of touch with the world, these are things I can’t hide from, but I will give it a bloody good try.
Escaping the outside world seems to be all I want to do, the current me feels lost in dystopian sci-fi again, particularly the books of William Gibson, his Sprawl Trilogy audiobooks have been on repeat because I’m too lazy to read lately, and the video games I lose myself in for hours have also helped suspend belief that the real world exists. I feel a hypocritical complaining about the modern world, of the advances of AI and how it has killed the arts, yet I hide neck deep in sci-fi like I’m a small child who has fallen into a ball pit, I don’t get me at all.
With the approach of summer, I’ve noticed I’ve been drinking more and that I need to knock it off for a while, but it is an indicator that my mind isn’t where I need it to be. My social anxiety is overclocking right now too, any time I’m forced visit the city for work an event, I am physically sick before stepping out the door, followed by a day of depression and paint peeling anxiety levels, this weighs on me until I escape back to our home in the country. A contributing factor I see, as the year ends, is that the world feels like it’s in turmoil, it feels too fast, spiralling, people in public places being aggressive, openly violent, unhinged, many peaking on chemicals, all glued to phones, everyone feels desperate, money is tight everywhere, it costs so much just to get by, it is all rushing and many just aren’t coping, there doesn’t appear to be any relief in sight. It feels like the worse parts of Christmas Eve shopping madness but every single day, pure speeding chaos.
I guess I see why the current me is lost in Gibson’s Neuromancer, the dystopia feels real, it fits nicely into our current timeline. People all seem plastic, fake, all outraged about things that probably don’t directly affect them, nobody seems genuine, it makes me feel old and confused, little makes sense anymore, it is a depressing cocktail. Well, I can’t deal with it so I’m running from reality before I (over)think too much about it.
A friend of mine has been experiencing the very same emotions, his dystopic drug of choice is the film Blade Runner from 1982, among other things. He has recently invested in VR and has found some success finding peace off world. Perhaps the advertisement from Blade runner is true, “A new life awaits you in the Off-world colonies. A chance to begin again in a golden land of opportunity and adventure!”
We’re both artists, well, him more so than me, but we’ve both been struggling to comprehend the current world, its people, and how we fit into it. In these stressful times most believe they’re a superstar, glued to their devices, posting, posing, obsessed with athleticism, money, success, appearing as avatars of themselves. With Blade Runner in mind, I can’t help but think we’re going to need a Voight-Kampff machine to locate anyone with a shred of empathy left out there. Maybe my recent thoughts that the film The Matrix being our currently reality has some truth to it.
I’ve decided to take the VR colony ship off world too and join my mate. Like Statler and Waldorf from The Muppet Show, we’ll be two old weirdos in VR goggles complaining about how annoying modern world is, while hypocritically relaxing in a digital one that has been made a reality by it. Time to wake up Neo wherever you are and save the real world so we can all come home.
The wind blows the grey gum trees outside my window,
Reminding me of the ocean in the distant south,
The sound is like waves crashing on a beach,
A brief rain shower falls on the green spring grass,
Activating the scent of a fresh countryside morning,
The sun is rising over the tree line now,
And, as the gum trees bend and sway in the north wind,
An orchestra of birdlife swells into an overture,
And the country awakens.
Nobody cares about what you’ve done,
Do not hark on prior glories,
Because people only like to hear,
About themselves and their own stories,
None of us are anything special,
But some think that they’re more,
Than rotting flesh beneath the ground,
Or breakless wave upon the shore.
Vibrating ship engines hum gently,
Sleek panels, white and shimmering,
Reflecting bright starfield bursts,
Silently slipping through an interstellar expanse,
Internally cool, all occupants are draped in white,
Large bay windows framed by great white rooms,
Where the last remnants of mankind gaze out,
Into endless black sparkling emptiness,
Wondering where they will arrive next,
This sanitised environment, clean and carefree,
Is home, the earth is but a distant memory.
Spare a thought for today,
As it relentlessly endures against the odds,
Battling ice, sunshine, and storms of wind and rain,Â
Cast into service, eventually succumbing to darkness,
Enslaved, doomed to repeat it all again tomorrow,
Spare a thought for today, for it’s a lot like you and I.
Autumn arrived this morning, cold and desolate,
Frost blankets the garden, as a blue sunny sky laughs above,
I feel my own depression today, it’s heavy, like a weight,
I try to connect without success, I ache in every joint,
Verbal communication seems difficult, I feel gagged,
It’s a work celebration day today, it took months of effort,
And I couldn’t be more emotionless towards it all,
I’m a relic of past days there, my presence feels like irritancy,
I could be more sycophantic, be the yes man they like,
But I no longer have the energy, the place is a necessary cell,
I feel cold inside, like the leafless trees of Autumn,
Why can’t I shake this melancholy, life has no substance,
I reminisced about childhood with a friend yesterday,
And could only remember days of sunshine and simplicity,
Backyard cricket, BBQ, bikes, pets and outside fun,
I’m sure reality was very different, but now, all I feel is empty,
Life today is the numb cycle of existing, it is unrewarding,
Work, pay bills, still be broke, have bad sleep, repeat,
I feel blindfolded, grasping at the warmth of life past,
There’s beauty outside my window, but today it feels frozen,
And the past looks warm through my rose coloured glasses.
Just beyond the two fat friendly hounds bathing in the sun,
Within a green wall of trees at the edge of the garden,
A small wooden doorway stands, but access is a privilege,
It is only for those who use their imagination, a place for dreamers,
Beyond the door is another world, one colourful and beautiful,
Where violet waterfalls tumble into serene lily covered ponds,
Above, a peppermint-coloured sky plays host to brilliant sunshine,
Under which colourful flowers, trees, and shrubs bask and thrive,
Large red and white butterflies work, gently bobbing and fluttering,
Busy blue cranes seek brightly coloured fish from river shallows,
In the warm forest shadows nearby, giant orange mushrooms bloom,
And pink songbirds sing full throated, into the sweet floral breeze,
Distant blue mountains with snow-capped peaks rise and fall,
And beyond, are the crystal-clear calm waters of the dream sea,
All the magic and splendour of imagination awaits you,
So take my hand little one, and walk with me awhile.
The early morning mist dances in swirls,
As a weary dreamer’s legs cross a cold open field,
The dead grey grass beneath the white blanket is sodden,
The landscape is flat, barren and desolate,
The grey cloudy sky seamlessly melts into the ground,
Whispers on the cold gentle breeze meet curious ears,
In the distance, the black skeleton of a lone dead tree calls,
Its contrast pierces the grey landscape, like a thorn in the skin,
Its obtrusive appearance is the only visible feature,
Each gnarled branch features a wide staring eye,
All of which slowly turn to focus on the approaching walker,
A thick twisted black trunk boasts a large gaping mouth,
As though silently screaming, through jutting rotted teeth,
A long black tongue slowly unfurls upon the surrounding mud,
Inviting the walker to enter the exposed mouth hollow,
Gelatinous grey liquid squishes beneath bare feet,
Each step towards the opening, sees the tongue rise,
Lapping at the walkers back, encouraging them forward,
Once inside the cavity, the mouth snaps shut, sealing them in dim light,
The dreamer begins to descend, sliding down a dark wet throat,
Tree roots and mud line the dripping filthy tunnel,
The speed of descent increases before the tunnel drops away,
As they freefall into a black abyss, their fearful screams echo,
Before they wake in their bed, sudden and confused, heart beating,
With the smell of putrid burning wood filling their nostrils.
Xylophilous (pronounced zy-LOF-uh-luhs) an adjective meaning, growing or living in or on wood. The term is commonly used to describe fungi, insects, and other organisms that are attracted to and thrive in wooden environments.
Dan Verkys 