Trying to define A Day (A) and A Tree (B) concepts which could be used in neurological determination processes and the medicinal field as form therapy. Ideas guys, ideas!
Notes on IT:
- Communication = Same Shape
- Response = Internalizing Volume
- Experience = Air
- IT as a Particle or Element
- Systems + Online Status require Insight for Full Fruition
- Adaptive Learning can be acquired through Simple Movement
So, who do we got here? Filburt quipped – Stan’s over there. Shady from S and L pronounced, I seen Cherry standing to the right with her sister. So, who else is missing? Um, I think Seventeen and Each Other were caught making out in their cache car. Cache car? Yeah. Like you know. Invisible transportation to Life Space. And who’s leaving Life Space right now? A Tree. And I saw A Day go to. Okay, well…we are close to arranging the final tribune.
We were that close.
“He came in and interrupted me!”
“Ya so. Why didn’t you just tell him to leave?”
Daisy was walking down the sidewalk. Again. It was raining. The weather never changed here. It was consistently blue-gray and purple. Wet and bleak. The sunshine rays were hidden by Indigo; the pupils of Elevententeen did not deserve Paradise Colours.
We were that.
“Filburt, can you please pass me my tea?”
“Ya sure. Here you go, do you have enough cream?”
Daisy’s milk was a nice colour of baby lime chartreuse. She didn’t even want to stir it, because then it would change into something orange and forceful. She was deciding on a Dream for the day, to carry with her in the front pocket of her Levi’s. She had another note in there from Baby Bear, who was said to be related to Seventeen and Other of Each Other. The wall at the Nike outlet now included various options for Dreams in colours ranging from green to teal to yellow. Unfortunately, that was the only colour palette available, because the others were worth too much due to their high wavelength interval. “Man, I miss orange! This blue just won’t do!”, Daisy exclaimed as she clearly had too much of a muddled mind frame to understand the meaning of that statement today.
Okay, okay, so back to The Tree. His name was Paul and instead of having a bright orange-red beard, his was blue inserted with tiny, little firs which themselves housed tiny, little owls. He was out hunting between the three primary states and had business to do across all of them. Life Space was his first stop. He was looking for Alice and her dreadful creations from God. Then, it was onto Chon where he could take a break. Eat a cherry scone and perhaps accompany it with a hot drink of lemonade. And final resting place – Elevententeen. He was supposed to bring back some girl named Daisy. Apparently, she held a key to something. His bosses were still trying to figure it out.
“In about 5 minutes, I am going to explode!”
“Let it happen, man. Things don’t get better than that.”
I’ve got to walk faster now. Where the fuck did I go? Daisy picked up her pace, the sound of her soles squeaking becoming more intense. Finally, she arrived. She looked up and read the sign – Judge Judy. It was an imposing wooden structure that looked distorted when you peered up towards the roof. She was analyzing it a little bit, because it wasn’t from here. She could tell, its proportions were all wrong and the perspective of its facade was vibrating like a green on red channel. She actually wasn’t sure now if she should enter. But before she could decide further, the gigantic brass door opened and a dark, teal gray smoke began to generate from the bottom slants.
“Pssst. Come in this way. I’ll leave the door open for you.”
Daisy knew who that was. It was darn Alice! How did she get in here? She knew better that Paul and Jared were looking for her. Her heart rate grew and it was becoming one of those distant Dreamsicles. She didn’t want any more of it. She was beginning to lose her originality and she wouldn’t be able to pick up a new set from Linz anytime soon. Daisy was heartbroken.
“If I can just get my mind past the pretense of it all, I might be able to recall something worthwhile.”
“You won’t do it. You don’t have the balls.”
The judge tore a sheet of paper out of her book and it made a long and terribly loud hissing sound – pppssssssssssssssssssssssssss! Was that really necessary, asked Alice. Judy replied with a hiss of her own, yes, yes it was. Daisy has come. Now what are we supposed to say? She will notice the difference. She can tell that we’re lying.
Daisy turned a sharp corner and again, cranked her neck upwards to preview the alarmingly high walls. Somewhere up top, there was a ceiling. It was all written in code. She wanted to read it so bad, but she slipped on the onyx glass floor, fumbling her belongings, of which a bright, green granny smith apple came flying out of her purse. Filburt ran ahead to catch it. Ugh, why are we even here, Daisy thought. Filburt answered her in his mind – Daisy, we are here because you are supposed to be here. We are trying to find the reason for Being. And, we need to present our findings to the tribune by December!
Alice sat affirmatively on a cushy yellow Dream. She took a bite and sighed. Judy followed by adjusting her large bottom on an orange one. They both sat in silence, chewing their gum.
On the left side wall, as soon as she turned the corner, Daisy saw two prints framed in gilded gold. One said Life, the other said Free. She wondered if she was supposed to be doing something with them. She tried lifting the frames off the wall, but they were drilled to it with solid steel jelly beans. Those things don’t move. She then placed her hand on their screens. The words flashed in different colours, but nothing else happened. Out of nowhere, two flashy young men appeared. She knew instantly who they were. It was The Need and The Pause. Chasing after her, of course.
The Writing she was doing was combining with Training. This was not supposed to happen. She was going to be in a lot of trouble. She just knew it. As an artist, she works. As a specialist, she writes. Ugh, this was not going to help her at the tribune. Just then, a booming voice entered the space, “Alice! Come forth to room 1!”
Daisy, she meant.
And that was that. She took off as fast as she could, carefully watching her step on the slippery glass stage. Blinking, Daisy looked around. “Class! It’s glass! Please pay attention!” Her forehead wrinkled. Again, she thought. When was it going to end? When was it the final end? “But today, my dear. Were you sleeping again?” Her teacher prompted as she handed her an exam. “Write this first. Then, we will determine what’s next.” Daisy shrugged. She had no choice anyway. So, she might as well participate. She squinted. At the corner of her eye, she saw them. She whipped her head around to see. But nothing. Just two barren doors. Totally uninteresting. Not brass even. She could have swore Tom Need and Tim Pause were there. Was she still asleep?
A digital object is checking gadgets. Tiny beads and shards. Daisy felt fuzzy and warm. Life Space smelled like a contradiction. Did you see it? Wait! Come back! You didn’t even ask! Daisy runs past in a fluff. Ugh, what is this stuff?
Pink plastic covered their heads. Depending on the nature of their state, faces could also be erased. The way back to Being was a way to Manipura. And if one could count, it would be to Artha. To be found: Sunny, Bright, Elevententeen.
I had a semi heart attack when I realized I left my computer at work. Daisy folded her legs out of bed, throwing her white duvet toward her pillows in an act of defiance or something like that. For some reason, she could feel her forehead wrinkle as she quickly discerned, “Oh, just wonderful. I’m angry again.” She walked towards earth, sashaying in a banana yellow-toned gold.
She entered. Now, walking criss-crossed down the tree-lined, brick-rung park pathway, she hated this part. She knew they tried to conceal the portal at the ‘end’ of the line, but you could always see it. The air around it was crinkly and wet. It was also technologically Prussian, giving off data to Whom (a.k.a. Google Analytics). They were still around, you know. In any case, she supposed most disconcerted artists would notice it.
Daisy proclaimed with both arms outstretched toward the new entrant, “Hop right in!” She was stretching really. He didn’t notice it. He was a mediocre-sized weasel carrying ‘today’s’ paper and sporting a rather smart trilby hat appropriately coloured rat. Hmm, I wonder if he’s just come in from the races? Daisy adjusted herself, pulling her navy blue rayon skirt down her legs.
Filburt squinted quintessentially. She has to think I’m coming here from the 50s, otherwise this proposition just won’t work. “Ahem!” Daisy stopped daydreaming of moment memories. She was playing with the ‘quaint daisy design’, imagining days of lorn, when she was just a wee little cartoon.
“Yes?”, “What is your girth? And are you in a state of dominant Manipura?”
She didn’t even bother to reply. What a stupid statement. Of course she was. She always was. Especially in Free state. Daisy curtly ruffled her shiny snakeskin BCBG and answered him, “I am now going to roll my eyes and you are going to walk that way, in this direction.” Filburt trembled like a dandelion in new spring wind and promptly – disappeared. Goddamnit! Skirt?! Stomach?! For Christ’s sake!
I don’t have time for this patience. The Need paused. This is not something new. The Pause crossed long, lanky arms and turned his eyeballs in reverse. Training never ended, Daisy hated it. She had been through it a million and ten times. She was even beginning to seem like him. The father of all wrongdoing. Addictions created them. Where found them. Elevententeen was their only solace.
Please come, spring.
This cannot be happening right now.
Daisy expired and shook her head as time and time again she did. We don’t exist. We are bars of Nanaimo treats screwed up on Haloperidol mixed with a touch of boxed salad greens.
So where do we begin?
She approached Alice who was expecting her. As she sat cross-legged on a slice of Dream, Daisy asks, “Miss Alice, are you here? Did you have anything?” This role reversal thing was just so complicated.
They were all messed up. The transition from wifi to digitization wasn’t her, pretty much everyone in town KNEW and it felt like people could FEEL the change, but no one would talk about it in actuality.
It’s just so much more interesting.
This new job!
I figured out 5 routes to sudden insight in writing, they are –
Open and shut,
Take your time,
Who cares and
Shall we keep going?
The weekend felt like an eternity. She wished she could swoon over these feelings, but she just craved having her own office and working. Daisy gathered her yellow skirt which had fine white polka dots, a fine white mesh of squid tulle and an admirable edging of white eyelet lace. She pronounced with a deep breath to whomever was not there – Here ye, here ye are. We are short, we are tall, we are bright, we are dull. We are equal and there is something out there telling us we aren’t. Try not to be confused, but to trace your steps back towards home, it isn’t where you feel your bones turn cold and your face falls flat.
That’s all she had to do for today, but she was exhausted because she spent days preparing. Social media nowadays did just that. Having to bring together Others was painstakingly dull, hence why the word always made its way into her announcements. Daisy tried to remember why she wanted this job in the first place.
I don’t feel right.
Alice from Wonderland awoke from a banana split second to comment, “Recall in your sleep, then awake and for the next every day of your life, return to your commonplace and remember what stands as your truth and reality – resolve, confidence and ultimately, sobriety.” Then her eyes shut, but bulgy and half-peeped. She yawned, turned around onto her Dream and went back to bed.
Chona had a look at where she was. White Spot…hmm…Telus and an escalator…as ‘white’ as pine chairs…hmm. She was just waiting to see Seventeen and Each Other. It was A Day and she felt 92, but was probably more like a 93. “Don’t forget to measure your immeasurability.” Ugh. It always came out the wrong way. Immeasurability is when one does not make sense for various points and reasons not to be discussed. Still, wearing a t-shirt from which her periphery seemed pink, she was holding onto a couple of secrets and there was a good reason for it.
“It has left.”, “It has gone for good.”
I just get worried because I force myself to smile for having an image of my face cropped up in my mind where I look exhausted and homeless. Dr. Waterson at least said I always look flawless.
Daisy quipped brightly and dull, “Ya don’t NEED to eat dessert, hasn’t this body image disturbance issue been cured?”
Oh ok, as you say.
They were both wearing matching lumber jackets. Difficulties often arose in their marriage, however as times were different at least they still had the capacity to travel through about the same rate of simultaneous combustive think. It frustrated them both – training – making them more porcelain and less matte.
“We are old.”, “Yes, we are.”
Daisy remembers crashing the car in 2006, there were banks of snow everywhere as large as clouds plopped down from the sky. She was psychotic and he was possibly Hindu, but as she sped away jacked on thoughts and cigarettes, A Tree followed her, off the main road. She tried to get away, but she just couldn’t and then, they stopped right next to a previous residence to talk. He parked behind the car and walked up to her window that was crusted with ice.
Daisy remembers the solid air inside her vehicle, her paranoia and delusions stuck amidst cold breath and the dark matter of her leather seats. She was so scared, more scared than she had ever been in her life. A burly thick man with a bushy red beard approached her on her left side. She rolled down the window and two pairs of eyes extremely intense, proceeded to think. There was silence and patches of foggy air between them. He questioned her actions realistically, but Daisy was determined.
“He didn’t die! He was protected by a higher being, I swear this on my life!” It was as if two different realities were panning out at the exact same time, one that was cold and real and the other which was super paranoid and just too hard to bear.
A Tree stood there in silence in between moments of questioning, sort of half-intrigued and semi-empathetic to Daisy’s arguments. And then, he just let her go. Just like that. She drove away, further and further into it all, arriving at an underground graffiti show that wasn’t worth any of her time, but as per usual she showed up, walked around like she gave a fuck, because that was her job.
Allow me to circumvent. How many years did it take?
Oh, I don’t know, maybe 10.
I don’t think we can act godlike. The brain gets confused. Then, we become accountable for our actions and if we cannot explain what we’re doing (and these days, throw thinking into that pot), we might be in trouble!