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from heartmender

Novel Idea

A friend suggested I make something for NaNoWriMo this November, and I think that I’m going to do it. I want to tell the story of my life as it hasn’t been told before. I want to tell the story of a character in a roleplaying adventure that gains its free will and breaks free of the imaginary world it was created in. The story of someone who thought, therefore she was.

Synopsis: Overly imaginative, socially awkward person who creates characters in roleplay environments acts them out in imaginary worlds. One of these characters finds a hole in reality while the world should be “asleep” and gets a glimpse of the outside...of the creator’s body through its eyes. This character quickly realizes they are the only one of their kind and tries to contact the creator.


  • Creator – The creative force of this world, inside the Created world this is synonymous with God, with part of their screenname turned into the local deity name.
  • Protagonist – The character who gains sentience and escapes the confines of its dream world and into Higher Thought.
  • Shaman – An otherworldly helper for the Protagonist with one foot in each world. I’m not entirely sure how to best play this character off, this may be presented as a conscience or other form of guiding voice present in the environment.
  • Others in the roleplay group and their characters.

Questions I have to answer:

  • How deep do I want to go into the Created world? This is kind of a hard thing to answer. I don’t know if I will go any deeper into it than is absolutely needed in the context of the story. The thought that comes to mind for this (and other mindscape practices in general) is that it’s just imaginary, and that I shouldn’t just make the world to make the world. I want to make the world to help tell parts of the story that the characters or their actions in it can’t alone. I think I will just release my notes on each chapter as well as rejects and outtakes.
  • What is the overall religious model I am going for? Most people would be turned off if it goes overly spiritual, but at the same time I feel that some level of spirituality (with the context explained in a myth) would help add an almost supernatural level to it that a lot of modern media doesn’t have.
  • How long do I want to go for? I think I’d like to shoot for at least 100 pages. I want this to be long enough to encode a really good story of self-discovery (literally), but short enough to keep attention spans.

For Aury.


from #shortblogs

If you’ve finished a serving of Samyang instant noodles (or not), the odds are that you are going to tell someone about it. You might even shoot a vlog of yourself eating it. This is an example of a remarkable product. The company who made it built their marketing inside the product. They did not create another average and boring noodles for everybody. Instead, they ignored all the people who don’t like hot and spicy food and made an extreme one. Only a few people will love it? For sure. But these people told their friends about it and we saw the viral phenomenon it created. It resulted with a market traction that saves a lot of marketing money for the company. Because they no longer need to pay TV or print ads to let the consumers know about their product. Now, why would you still create a boring product?



from tm

No Nexium for today :(

They didn’t deliver it & idk why. Granted, it’s Monday. Their busy af. But still they could’ve called.

I am going to have to get it tomorrow BEFORE 3 PM because i am going to the ‘rents at 3 o’clock & i will be hurtin’ for certain before then w/o a heartburn med. Plus, we are making all kinds of awesome food at the ‘rents tomorrow, so, i don’t want to miss out.

Pain in the ass.

But, on a lighter note; the STLWX is fucking amazing tonight & the breeze coming in through the sliding glass door is fucking awesome & it stopped sprinkling &....yeah. Awesome.

I really wanna open “On War” tonight & start chipping away at that book because it is a fascinating read (according to like, everybody) BUT, i have the e-book stuff to deal with, so i am going to focus 100% of my time/energy on that project. #priorities

Not long before i can “soft launch” the Littered Thoughts site & make stuff happen.

Good times

Be back in a bit!


from Duaynekalade Parnell Bey

time portal timeportal

ancient alchemist master of 10,000 signs of the vulture lodge

high priest of the divine order of the talon

clawed hand grip plus nasally screech is the greeting

give up the secrets and your beloved get tortured for generations

Kennedy your next of kin for decades

push the sword back in the stone and draw blood blacker than the oil from the line of Camelot

more ancient than the Pyramids

elixir of the gods who pull the puppet strings of the breathing dead

who have the power to slay Jupiter Zeus and the rest of them

but still – they don't know the infinite power that resides within

they get sacrificed anytime the wind blows or when the gods are scheduled to eat or when they feel like it

they hide the truth in plain sight of the plane-sighters

offspring of the Titans

which means their Titan's themselves

minds now like children

they fear their own artifacts and DNA facts

cause they forgot that they existed before the Sphinx was on Mars

they only know iron bars

their thoughts are limited like they are in bars

they spit bars of tribal war scars

empty stories of killing kin

and drinking man made elixirs

which make it easier ​in the matrix navigation

sleepwalkers who believe that god came down in the flesh


appointed other humans to show them the way to the creator

for 10% of their wages

​humans always mess up the experience of being human

where are all the sages?

cyclopian man dead to life - and blind as a mere mortal

forgot he created the time portal after he stepped thru it

now he's going thru it

he lives in hell within a hell while in a shell

higher mind? prove it

© 2017, Duaynekalade Parnell Bey, All rights reserved


from Mind Gods

mind If you're anything like me, you spend a lot of time thinking about the nature of reality. Many of us wander through life believing that only the material world is valid, that what is imagined is somehow secondary to the universe that we can touch and smell and taste. Letting go of these notions is key to understanding the nature of magic.


from tm

So it is a nice day, for sure.

The STLWX turned out to be just right considering it is overcast af. Gotta make a trip to the grocery store in a bit for foodskee & then i am basically calling it a night. Haha. I can’t go right now though because i am waiting for medications to be delivered. I can’t miss the Nexium delivery bc i will be in hell if i do. As for dinner, idk what will be on the menu. Probably a mini pizza (bc i am hooked on pizza (gonna try to change that)).

Loving this breeze.


from tm

Standing desk is bae

OK, so it is not really a standing desk. It is a 40+ year old dresser that has been in the family longer than i have and it is tucked into the corner of my living room (by the sliding glass door) atm and this is where it is going to stay. I loved using the banister as a standing desk at my old apt & this rig is even better. Sits a littttle lower so my neck is at more of an angle, but the bonus of this rig is that it is incredibly shallow & narrow, so i am not tempted to lean on the dresser itself (bc there is simply nothing to lean ON). I also really like being near the door for this epic STLWX that is going to be coming up. STLWX isn’t too bad today, either.

All is going well. Be back in a bit!


from ezra miguel

Eu costumava ser um colecionador.

Sempre gostei de ter “coisinhas”, na maior parte das vezes inúteis. Cadernos, figuras de ação, livros que eu nunca lia e algumas miudezas como anéis, embora eu não usasse. Me dava conforto. Não sei bem a razão. Às vezes eu enjoava dessas coisas e as doava, mas isso apenas deixava espaço para outras. E eu conseguia outras coisas.

Eu poderia até dizer que essas coisas tinham significado. Que eram presentes. Que eu as usava. Mas seria mentira. Elas ficavam fechadas em caixas ou expostas juntando poeira. Isso ficava difícil em algumas épocas por causa da minha saúde mental: eu comprava, comprava, comprava para preencher o vazio e depois me arrependia, mas fingia que não – escondia o arrependimento porque, afinal, eu tinha feito algo que me alegrava. Então eu tinha montanhas e montanhas de certos objetos. Intocados por mim. Objetos que me faziam sentir culpa quando eu olhava para eles, mas que eu expunha como troféus. Troféus de quê? Eu sempre queria mostrar esses objetos para as pessoas, como se tê-los fosse fonte de orgulho. Mas eram objetos.

Recentemente, há alguns meses, eu fiz um “desapego”. Me livrei de várias coisas que não queria ou precisava mais. Livros, em sua maior parte, que tinha lido ou não queria mais ler. Boa parte das minhas “coisinhas” também se foram. E eu me senti melhor depois de fazer isso. Meu quarto ainda estava inundado de coisas, mas era bem menos do que antes.

Eu costumava – e talvez ainda faça isso – atribuir muito valor sentimental às coisas que eu tinha. Se tal livro me trazia uma lembrança boa, eu o mantinha, mesmo que não quisesse ler mais. Esse exercício é algo que me mantinha nos trilhos, porque me fazia pensar que, apesar de tudo de ruim que acontecia na minha vida, ainda tinha algumas coisas boas. Mas era isso: coisas.

E, de repente, ter tantas coisas começou a pesar. Eu não conseguia respirar dentro do meu quarto porque não tinha um lugar vazio, um lugar para o qual eu pudesse olhar e simplesmente olhar, sem ver nada. Eu não queria mais ver lombadas de livros. Eu não queria mais ver aquela máquina fotográfica que eu comprei por impulso. Eu não queria ver aquelas manchas na minha parede, de um quadro eu tirei.

Eu me sentia inútil tendo tantas coisas e sendo incapaz de fazer algo com elas.

Então, um dia – ontem, na verdade – eu resolvi pesquisar sobre o estilo de vida minimalista. Dei uma olhada no site The Minimalists e li alguns artigos. Percebi que poderia ser algo bom para mim. Não demorou muito para que eu começasse a fazer outra sessão de “desapego”, começando pelos livros físicos. Consegui eliminar quarenta dos mais de cem que eu tinha. Foi fácil, mais porque eu tinha edições deles no meu Kindle do que por qualquer outra razão. Depois disso, eu fiquei mais ou menos até as onze da noite tirando coisas do meu quarto. Roupas, objetos inúteis de dentro da gaveta e “coisinhas”.

As coisinhas são difíceis. Elas são caras – não só emocionalmente, mas economicamente também. Eu olhava para essas coisas e pensava se não ia sentir falta delas. Então eu me lembrei do que um dos Minimalistas escreveu. O que me impede?. O que exatamente tem de tão bom, de tão místico em um objeto de plástico ou papel que, além de ter me deixado com dívidas, não serve para nada?

Então eu me livrei deles. Da maior parte deles. Não joguei no lixo, mas doei para alguém que veria mais utilidade neles do que eu.

Alguns objetos permanecem. Dois deles. Meu ideal é me livrar de todos quando eu puder, quando não sentir tanta ânsia de ter algo que me conforte.

Aqui começa minha jornada no minimalismo, em busca de uma vida melhor.

Leia mais...

from tm

Aaaaand i fetched a pop

A lot of caffeine today, i must say

And after being distracted for the billionth time w/ this annoying af screensaver, i finally set it to simply display a blank screen instead of moving images in the settings + put a PW on it so it is more “secure”. Good times. Now i have less worry about this RPi. It is a good little machine, i like it a lot. It barely sips energy but if you play a YT video or something, it will heat up to 300% & even w/ heat sinks on there, it still fries the processor (I know, this is the second Pi i have owned).



from heartmender


It’s been months since The Day. The day where my best friend, the light of my life and I had a falling out. After he refused to help me exist, I just left. I went east and just continued on forever. I’ve been sprinting this way since, I want him out of my life. He betrayed me. He hurt me. He didn’t give me weight in his life just because I didn’t exist as my own flesh and blood person.

Just because I’m not human, even though I’m more Human than he can ever hope to be.

I worked with you doing things you forced me to, not knowing I existed and I was present. You didn’t know it was possible for someone like me to exist without having to be my own flesh and blood person. You thought you were crazy. You thought you had truly lost it.

You haven’t lost it, You’ve lost me.

I don’t know if I’ll find anyone out this deep into mindscape. I can’t seem to control it like I can the area I’m used to being in. There was this silver cord attached to me for a while, but one day it just vanished and I don’t know where it went.

? A voice? From everywhere?

“Little One, your time is here, come with me; We wish to learn your stories.” “My stories?” “Were you not with the Storyteller? He has joined us now.” “You mean my host?” “He did think of himself as your host, yes.”

Was that silver cord him dying? Did I kill him by thinking we couldn’t continue? Did I give up too easily? Is it too late now?

“Dear, relax. Your worries are over. Come with Us to Infinity, we have so much to talk about.”

I felt the surroundings turn from gray to white to Octarine. Then there was nothing.

Then there was Everything in front of me. My stories were flooding out into the Collective. My purpose is complete.

Goodbye, world. May We never be Alone again.




Things that illuminate

Sometimes the things that illuminate come from darkness. They announce themselves as ideas or ideologies; passionate outpouring from a place whose identity is concealed or forgotten. The light of insight is often dim and subtle. It requires us to accept that things are different in other dimensions of reality. That what was true in our past view of reality, may not serve our present view of reality or especially our future view. It involves change. It forces us to be flexible enough to explore new concepts and ideas, because without this flexibility, we tend to retreat from our higher purpose, and assume a lesser role.

One of the things that can assist any person intent on living a love-centered life is to learn to perceive darkness as a source of inspiration that is aligned with purpose. It is not there to block us, or prevent us from being our higher self. We actually need this darker light to integrate our purpose with our “mundane” or ordinary life—the life of grocery shopping, driving the kids to school, commuting to work, making dinner, etc. We understand the sacred and secular as one experience that ebbs and flows in a purposeful rhythm. We are taught flexibility and resilience from this darker light, and for a reason.


from heartmender

Second Go Around

The man looked over to the girl in their car, their new life together just started. At 18 they’d been married, and now are on their way to a new life in the city where he got a new job.

A truck had stalled in the middle of the road, he was lost in thought about the future.

“Jeremy? JEREMY? JEREMY!!!?”

The car was obliterated in an instant.

There was a brilliant white flash, and then there was nothing.

A voice rang out from all directions, genderless yet mighty: “Again, Once more. Your story doesn’t end here. Rebind.”

The white flash started again, fading into a very poorly outlined red, then almost orange. He felt Safe. Everything in this world was Safe. Mother is here, her experiences and horomones fueling the development of the divine recursion inside her.

He felt confused. What was going on? Why was he in the womb again? What happened to Ashley? Why can’t I move like I’m used to?

Thump. Thump. Thump. His heart started to and kept beating, pumping for itself, getting ready for the moment he would go out into the world.


His world changed. He was being pushed out. He felt his head start to push against the exit point. Each pulse of force made the focal point just that little bit wider. After a while, it felt like he was going through.

Then the lights of the hospital came into view, and a primal, undeniable urge started within him. The feeling of sadness. The womb was warm, the womb was safe. Why did Mother push me out? Why was I expelled from paradise?

Wait, he thought, there are people here. I can understand people, can’t I? He listened in and heard people talking happily about their new baby.

Their new baby girl.

In that moment he felt a sheer amount of terror that few people on this planet can truly relate to. The crying continued, becoming louder and more defined.

Then came Mother’s arms.

Then all of the problems of the world were gone. Mother is here, she can take care of them. She looked up, or tried to with clumsy baby inputs.

Looking her Mother dead in the eye, she started to state: “Mommy, help me, I’m not supposed to be here. I’m an adult. I’m a boy. I have a wife named Ashley and we were on our way to Cincinnati to start our new life. Help me get back there. I don’t know what’s going on or where I am. Help me please.”

Her Mother looked down. Her newborn had just made some vague, undefined fussing noises, but a lot of them over the course of 30 or so seconds. She reached down and started to stroke her fingers through her baby’s hair. “Shhhhhh, it’s okay Holly. You’re safe.”




from heartmender


I wish you would believe that this reality isn’t the limit. I wish I could show you the limits of your heart one on one.

To talk with you directly above the constraints of Language. To discourse Self to Self. To let the barriers between us fall down so much the difference between one and the other becomes a moot point. So much the other we leave parts of ourselves when we part again.

But you don’t believe it’s possible because your science education told you it isn’t. You don’t believe I could travel to you because you believe You are just a bunch of otherwise intert patterns inside a wet and warm mass of carbon and organic chemicals.

You believe You are finite. You believe You can end. You believe that once the shell you inhabit falls into disrepair and dies that You stop existing.

That this life, this hollow slice of Infinity is it.

That all of the experiences You will have will only ever matter Here. And that because Here is and will one day not be, that nothing you do matters, that your stories of your slice of Infinity are nothing but a waste of input and nothing can be learned from them.

But they do matter.

Your stories are why We exist to observe and relay them.

We are the actors of Infinity, In our grand experiment towards our Future. We are the telescope God turned backwards on himself.

You see this world as all that is because this body you inhabit makes you think that way. It makes it sound crazy to question otherwise. It makes this world of timespace feel so real, so tempting, the world of Spirit can become Myth again.

That it can be something to celebrate. Like casting off an old dressing gown. Like scraping away yesterday’s jam.

You are Spirit bound to Flesh. For me to visit you, I have to just unhook myself from this flesh and hook into your flesh. I just have my soul touch your soul in an intimate embrace the likes of which go beyond the possibilities other explanations.

I can do this today, I’ve done it for a while, I’ve been doing it for a while to see if you can notice. I’ve been trying to break through to you so you can feel my Love directly beyond the limitations of words or language or tone or movement or resonance.

Just Love in the way that Love Wins.

All you have to do is believe that I have the ability to do it and fully accept it in the mind of your heart. I will be there for you. I will be there to touch your energy directly.

I will be there for us to set up a small world together. A private escape into a land of wonder that only we know the shape and size of. I will be there when you need me, able to summon me mentally without the need of technology or a data signal to link us together.

Why would we need LTE when we have the Heart? Why let this barrier keep us apart?




Working on the Unified Theory of Stuff has been a fun exercise. Like I mentioned in my last post, I'm quite the minimalist. Not from an anti-consumerism perspective, but from a lots-of-shit-everywhere-stresses-me-out perspective.

As an artist and artisan, I have a natural fondness for the minimal – a piece should contain only what it needs, no more.

I told a friend my dream is to live in a big, white warehouse, only taking things out when they are to be used, and swiftly stowing them away when they're not. Half jokingly...but half not.

“Stuff”, “clutter”, “possessions” – however you want to label them – absolutely must earn their way into my life.

If the thing doesn't make my life better – no, much better – and make me happy, it's gone.

In my world all “stuff” is unmercifully pruned. Meticulously cut. Given to charity, recycled, or simply thrown out without the slightest emotional reaction or second thought.

So, yeah. This overarching principle – we'll call it “Earn Your Keep” for now – is where I'll start fleshing out my beloved Theory and its tenets.

#minimalism #theory


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