“It is getting even more impossible to ignore the climate crisis. The fact that people in power still somehow live in denial, and actively move in the wrong direction, will eventually be seen for and understood as the unprecedented betrayal it is. It is just a matter of time."
Alms 4.2 Operating System
Elevated to further levels due to every effort of our being; it started and could not stop locally; there still resides the resources necessary to hand pick methods for repeatedly going forward, starting again at the beginning, and ending. Available source is key to developing a creative work cycle; use of natural centripetal forces propel the creative process towards the next plateaus of conscious performance perspectives. Proofs, through formulae (structural and constitutional ) and written confessions of faith, hand picked, and rendered into a cultivated principled execution of the performance objective; unseen by the ordinary eye illuminated by the scarce manipulations of common sense.
Eyezaya's Chapter 1
Fr. Bif Stróganov D.D.
Formerly of the Holy Order of the Sacred Sepulchre
Ant Vision
It is his vision. His name is EyeZaya, son of Turtle. This concerns the surrounding barrios of the ether-sphere, in the eras of citrus tinted demagogues which govern the surrounding vestigial gray matter vacuoles of ye prestigious being. Pay attention Earth-noid, for yo, as in an eye ....
.... have nurtured and raised marionettes. The strings broke.
Yet, observe:
Ye little doggy knoweth its crunchy,
A chickadee will findeth a seed.
Put your plotting on Earth in your Eye.
A crooked stage, a tumultuous storm, everybody off the deck! Abandoned, backwards, jumping ships, and plummeting, down is up, into other blue voids.
Rinse and repeat, a refrain:
The top most part is weak thinking, in the middle hearts weep, the soul (which lives in your feet) walks on the heads of the ignorant. Again there is no authenticity residing therein. Afflictions and abscesses manifested and contained in the body politic rendering a multitude of confusions suitable for a general complacency. No medicines are left in the alter-countrysides, only rusting metals manufactured long ago in faraway lands. The daughters were left behind, like tomatoes in a garden, covered in thorns and vines, holding mirrors up to the enemies when the music is over.
“The face in the mirror won't stop
The girl in the window won't drop ..”1
And we all, we are like actors performing in an empty theater, no shelter from an absent minded audience, an empty domain. Reciting lines that don't make sense. A monstrosity of comparable executives living in cities laid to waste by errant decimal points floating on globalist spreadsheets. The futile gatherings are flagrant attempts to restore someone else's yesterday. So in reaction extend your hands over ye eyes so ye can pretend ye didn't see it. Red and white, blood in the snow. Endeavor to do good.
If ye don´t wanna do it, it's ok. You can listen to it and ye can eat everything from the ground.
Consume your Earth.
Ye willing or not willing? Just swallow a sword and become a hooker on the corner of despair and hopelessness. The empty and faithful vacuum will be a pimp and spouse to the forlorn in the Civic Association of Thieves (CAT).
If you are willing, and you listen to I, then you will eat the good things of Earth in a diner. If you are not willing, and ye provoke the Eye to anger, then the sword of stupidness will devour you with glass teeth. From the mouth of Eyezaya has spoken, “whoa ouch." Has the faithful city, full of judgment, become a prostitute in a pant suit? Justice lived in her, but now murderers haggle over the bytes that is mixed with stinkin' fece-bits. Booze has been diluted with water. Smoke is loaded with Pennzoil. Your leaders are unfaithful shit-heads, service associates thieves and hand puppets; they all love gifts; they pursue rewards. They look at you as orphans, widows of sanity cast to the wind like leaflets at a military parade. A micron whisp of toilet paper wrapped in a fart.
Aha peasant! Eyezaya will console ye enemies, vindicate ye adversaries; and will turn and purify ye golden hands; and take away all your crap. Consumed and re-cycled. Confounded because of television commercials, to which ye have sacrificed so much time. Ashamed over that garden you cultivated, when you were like an oak with falling leaves. A garden without water. Embers from another forest fire and your work was the spark. Both will burn together, and no fireman with a hose in sight henceforth bury your Eyes in the backyard.
A man Ahmen.
What are little boys made of ?
Frogs & snails & puppy dog's tails
And such are little boys made of.
What are little girls made of ? 2
Dá Bəng Gôu
The Talking Dog
1964
S0cean and I first met somewhere around the back fence. We got even closer to one another walking our masters around in the town square. We spent hours playing, dancing around trees, and trying to figure how our master's were to ‘become princesses’. It was a task that seemed to occupy everybody's fascination. S0cean was a beautiful svelte white dalmatian retriever mix type. We were passionately attracted to each other. We both liked the same biscuits and would graciously share our drinks from the same puddles. I eventually did figure out the name of Socean's master. Her name was Maria.
I remember when S0cean moved next door to us. They came from the kingdom of Pennsyltucky. S0cean told me her master had got a new job working for RCA International as an accountant in the phonograph and television department. She traveled all the time to Latin American and her shoes smelled like cow. She disliked “the rock and roll business" and tried to discourage S0cean from becoming a celebrity. She elucidated horror stories about personalities getting murdered and thrown off of cliffs into the ocean. 
She brought back some interesting music and educational vinyl phonograph records from those regions. On hot summer nights we would sometimes hear Spanish music coming through the chain link fence.
There was another memory that stood out. One day S0cean's master yelled, “car-eyed" into the backyard and S0cean leapt up, spinning in circles of excitement. S0cean asked me if I wanted to go. I didn't know but got excited too and barked and barked and spun around in circles like S0cean. My master came out back to see what the heck all the ruckus was about. Maria talked to my master and said, “car-eyed" again and both Socean and I spun in circles faster and barked louder in elevated excitement.
‘.. the dream, like yesterday, S0cean and I in the back seat, the windows down enough to let our noses sniff the air, the trees and sign posts flying by, our tongues slobbering, and noses smudging the windows. Bumping and jostling for the best position, losing our balance and falling off the seat on steep curves. Hoping the day, the event, the sensations, the smells, the “car-ride" would never end ..
I remember this incident: our masters were in a backyard at a party which had a lot of burning meaty smells and crispy crunchy treats. A mighty man slammed his drink down on a table and yelled, “Until persuaded otherwise I'm sticking with Maria, that humans are just along for the ride on an immense blob of inanimate but nonetheless cytoplasmicly streaming money, which has its own gravitational rules like a coalescing asteroid field slowly becoming a ring system, with discernible patterns like interest exceeding income over deep time. Build a coalition to exploit that principle and it's like letting gravity be your friend, don't fight it, use it. Nature remains utterly indifferent to the endless mutations of evolutionary history, what survives, survives, truth and beauty be damned. I take comfort in the view that extreme authoritarianism really hasn't been able to outlast coordinated mass action over the recent couple of centuries."
My master rolled her eyes, and calmly said, “.. is the party over ?"
I made a small puff-bark.
S0cean was staring down at a yellow flower on the ground near the back fence where we first met. She was getting ready to eat it. I joined her, under fluffy shaded clouds covering a 3/4 sun emitting rays of light and ate some grass. I heard Socean elicit a small burp. It was very romantic.
I remember lots of stories. Like when S0cean went away. One day she was just gone and I had to make my own thrills from justified beginnings. Know that we know who you are, I know who I am, I'm Dá Bəng Gôu, son of Sophus Dawgus and I'm not a mistake! I'm a talking dog.
Flixflux Junction
We're moving content off the uTubes and clones. Sometimess you have to dip a toe in to get the temperature of the media-sphere. Are the Internet tubes really clear ? Many media platforms are destined to die. Particularly those that aren't maintained.
The carousel below is a tirade triad of form. Totally a goggled approach where each image of the slide show is an offsite link to the related video object using a popular media company as the distribution service. We have developed a network system that will liberate our media from corporate controls. Deployment of mjcmag.online is imminent.
shut in ≄ shut out
ø day
She was hanging at the bottom of the stairs by the closet. I took her green coat and put it on the hanger. When I saw God she wasn't wearing the coat but was shrouded in a pastel gray white mist, surrounded by wisps of embracing specters. She entered my body through my left side as I lay on the bed. The throng followed her through my body. Reboot has begun. Intake is 200 ml of H2O/hr.
Dear Sister L. formerly of the Holy Order of Perpetual Mercies,
You're right.
But I think when you die God gives you a limited amount of time to request what you want to be when you are reincarnated.
Kind of like a quiz show.
If you don't answer quick enough, God throws you back in the pool as what you were.
I'm pretty sure this is how it works but I'd have to ask somebody else to see what they think.
Perspective is important.
Regardless, when I die I'm going to immediately start saying repeatedly, “bird or turtle."
A panda bear or koala is a good option .. although coming back as a Red Headed Woodpecker (I would get to eat ants!) ...
and then getting ripped to shreds and eaten by a Red Tailed Hawk would be an interesting experience.
foot notes, required reading, addendums
1. When The Music Is Over
2. The Power Puff Girls
“Regular Old Intelligence is Sufficient--Even Lovely," Bill McKibben thinking through the other possible apocalypse
. Bill is under a lot of stress. Charging up the awareness of the social environment about the state of The Environment is challenging. Fortunately Biophilia is currently online. This reminds us of E. O. Wilson commenting, “The education of women is the best way to save the environment.", “True character arises from a deeper well than religion.", and “When you have seen one ant, one bird, one tree, you have not seen them all." Please entertain a broader perspective. Sustain a phantasmagorical perspective on life. It is healthy and illuminating. There is only one roll of the dice that we know of and Tom Gilling writes, ‘WHAT'S THIS?' growls Dyer, as if someone has played a trick while his back was turned. He stares at the boy, curled up 
like a prawn on an oily sheepskin, pink and wrinkly, shit-smeared, eyes pinched against the candlelight. ‘I thought it weren't due for a fortnight.' His breath reeks of beer and tobacco. A mudcake is stuck to his backside. ‘God bless him, missus, but the boy's got a decent bit of gear on him.'
On local farming issues we haven't had enough time to check on Farmer Max's pawpaw patch. We need to monitor it more closely. Immediately! We did receive a wonderful communique from Jen at Happy DIY Home as relates to proper pawpaw horticulture. Their
communique How to Grow and Maintain the Pawpaw Tree is required reading for any pawpaw patch grower and enthusiast. We also thoroughly enjoyed and recommend 20 Types of Bees You Can Find in Your Garden or Yard as we are always striving to learn more about the micrœcosystems in our own backyards.