The Mask of Entropy

Entropy is nemesis of the Forge. For every item or idea made strong, Entropy is the test of its solidity, either metaphorically or literally. To decay the very essence of all things striving for existence is its task. It functions in many ways comparable to Forge. In a lot of ways it is responsible for evolution, destroying that which is temperamental or limited. However in most circumstance entropy is the force of simplification. Where as the Forge cultivates and complicates, Entropy attempts to revert all existence to the tranquility of silence inherent in simplicity. Envision creation as a mountain stretching far and vast. Entropy is the instigator of the avalanche that breaks lose all destabilized elements.

The Mask of Order

Order and Fracture are catalysts for the actions of Forge and Entropy. Responsible for the severity or necessity of either force, they are completely different in their individual motivations. The Mask of Order would have all forms and actions deliberate for the goal of control and predictability. There is safety in order. Always knowing that the spire’s survival will be maintained. Always dwelling on fear of the unknown, but also as a positive force instilling purpose and guidance.

Knowledge is also in Order’s realm of influence. The idealistic catalogue of all action and event filed away for all time. Imagined charts and graphs of probability longing always and forever, longing for the eyes of a seer. Order is slave to linear time and as such is never comfortable in the moment. Ironically enough order is not a composed or relaxed entity.

The Mask of Fracture

Fracture is instantaneous and unpredictable action. It is the small crack in the glass that cascades throughout the window, racing in fervor toward variant beauty. With abstraction the tempest of the cosmos is made volatile. Unpredictability exists in any moment of Order’s weakness, or Fracture’s strength. purpose is nowhere to be found and made in a moment unaffected by the need to create, destroy, or accomplish. Instinct is responsible for beauty in the universe. It gives flame its erratic nature, causes errant and unpredictable action, and brings forth individuality to all entities and objects.

Fracture is the voice of wisdom in the Quadra, for it knows no future. It embraces the unpredictable aspect of every moment and feeds upon it. It is the heart of the unknown, denying form but embracing potential.

The Gathered Storm

With the pieces in play all the stage is set for a drama of epic quality. The guiding interest of the Masks and the formation of the Gods to come, mark the advent of a great story to be told. Characters of great variation and attraction exhibit potential derived both directly and indirectly from the influence of the masks.

All these abstracts and all these ideas are completely hollow and stagnant without each other. What is cultivation without purpose or ruin without a subject to writhe? What is cultivation without abstraction or purpose without action? Each one of these wills coalesce to form forceful and quickened form.

The other forces must work in tandem for there to be room, reason, and action for all life and being. Without the other forces the face of cultivate would be no more than an abstraction, a pointless idea floating aloft in the void of space. There are three inherent phases since the creation of linear time that have warranted significant interest.

The first of which is energy.

The second milestone was the advent of life.

The third point of interest within our focused time span is sentience.

Instinct however is something entirely different. If creation and destruction form human morality then instinct concerns our needs and desires without consideration of consequence. It is the thoughtless, formless randomness in the scheme of all things and the ceaseless desire to fulfill immediacies in life. It holds no conception of morality, path, or end result. It is a moment in which an urge is embraced rather than repressed.

Purpose is the structure for all existence. It is the reason why parts are arranged in a particular order or combination and the reason for why they exist in the first place. If cultivate and ruin are the dance of existence then purpose is the music playing. Far from the need to create or destroy, purpose sees all action as merely a means to accomplish its goal, whatever it may be at the time. Purpose is an elusive thing to grasp because most often it is only recognizable after its influence. A subtle guide asserting influence in order to perpetuate its vision, purpose is a passive but present motivator.

The mind is quite the bastion of potential for Purpose. In many ways it feeds off the others. It coerces Instinct into specific action, bends destruction to subtle action, and gives meaning to cultivation

For the few omniscient in nature the universe is envisioned as a towering spiral of linear time, the one form in the void encompassing all that is known as existence. It guides itself through time and space, grasping at some elusive and intangible goal. The tip of the drill is always one of three essences and its axis is purpose. The raging war of wills fight for pioneer influence on each new point in space-time.

Rip asunder the bliss of the void. The essences of impulse,

If all of existence were a wheel and time the hub, then purpose, creation, destruction and instinct are the spokes. With these four abstracts, all ideas in the universe are given form and each component created through their cooperation or confrontation.

Destruction and creation are the counter weights in the balance of all things. They sow harmony in existence by keeping all opposing forces in check. If ever the scales should tip to upset the tentative concoction of the cosmos, an event is conjured for the respective need albeit it destructive or constructive. It is in this way all things revitalized, reallocated, and replenished. In beings of sentience these opposing but equal forces are voices, compelling each ethical entity toward the fulfillment of perceived good or evil action. These qualities transcend the random chaos and whims of instinct to consider repercussion.

The nature of all things is defined among these 4 spirits, no matter how abstracted or thought out. Sometimes entwined in elegant motion while at others locked in pained submission, the harmony and dissonance of all things fall within their influence.

Ruin is to cause to fall to pieces or decay. A star collapsing or a violent vortex, it comes in all forms and shapes in sizes. It is active as fire on fuel or passive as sand abrading stone. Its role in the universe is purification, a cleansing of all that is weak, impure, or out of place. In any system it focuses on filtering all that is flawed, its nature is not content to be confined within a system. Its aggression toward change is prominent. Always seeking new forms to attack and test, Ruin is much more energetic in nature than Cultivate. It is one of the principle guiding forces in evolution and adaptation. Seeking purity in essence through the taxing of form.

Just as each other face finds its role into psyche, so to does Ruin. It too exploits the presence of the others in sentient minds. Taking need to create and manipulating it into thinking something must first be destroyed. Twisting instinct into something carnal and unrelenting. Bending purpose toward villainous selfish exploit. In this way many new facets are born. Each new facet from ruin testing and distilling the waters on the ocean of thought. Not just content to purify, ruin also exist in its purest base influence, to destroy and raze for the shear bliss of entertainment. There is no mistake that no matter its benefit, ruin is a force of sadistic malcontent.

Champions of Sentience-(this name sucks-it is reminiscent of feces)

1. Chapter One: Spokes of Creation (Essence)……………………………..20 pgs

1. Eternal Spirit of Purposes
2. Eternal Spirit of Instinct
3. Eternal Spirit of Ruin
4. Eternal Spirit of Cultivate

1. Chapter Two: Life Essence + Belief = Reality…Cogito Ergo Sum……….30 pgs

1. Linear Time
2. The Three Epochs

1. Age of the Runes
2. The Rise of Spirit
3. The Awakening of Detachment

1. Chapter Three: Birth of the Temporal Gods (Belief)…………..20pgs

1. Asimov
2. Gaia
3. Zarathustra

1. Chapter Four: The Time Abstract

1. Chapter Five: Contemporary Society………………………………..50pgs

1. Pure Influence

1. Ruin – (City Name)

1. Cultivate – (City Name)
2. Purpose – (City Name)
3. Instinct – (City Name)

1. Hybrid Influence

1. Purpose + Instinct = Needs (content)
2. Purpose + Ruin = Deconstruction (economic people)
3. Purpose + Cultivate = Construction (United Nations)
4. Instinct + Ruin = Carnal Impulse (Pure Evil)
5. Instinct + Cultivate = Compassion

C. Amalgamation

1. Purpose + Instinct + White Karma = (City Name)
2. Purpose + Instinct + Black Karma = (City Name)

1. Chapter Six: The Champions of Sentience……………………..30 pgs

1. Extensions of Gods

1. Gaian(Instinct) = The Dryad
2. Zarathustrian(Karmic) = The Rune Dissident
3. Asmovian(Purpose) = The Theorist

1. Personic Diversity of Spirits

1. Karma + Instinct = The Linguist
2. Instinct + Purpose = The Mad Scientist
3. Karma + Purpose = The Artifact

VII. Chapter Seven: The Scalping…………………………………..20 pgs

1. Conception
2. Asimovian Pact
3. Fruition
4. Gaia’s Revolution(Comet Catcher)

1. Chapter Eight: The Theorist’s Temporal Voyage………………20 pgs

(The Time Line Will be used for the “engine” of the novel)

1. Coma Quickening
2. Flashback to Normalcy
3. The Divergence

1. Asimov
2. The Theorist

1. Possible Chapter: “From the Scalping to the Shane”

The Mad Scientist

Roger Primrose

From the hands of strange children march the flames and flares

that will carry my creation to it’s final home. Their celluloid black and

white dances. Their pride held in numbers of horses, handfuls of busted

nails, and small white rocks that are crushed up by large metallic

machines with their huge grinding teeth. These machines turning,

spinning mad together like the gears of an angry clock. These machines

that churn out these rocks, white-hot from a half sick sun. These dullard

children that dance around in their societies. They are trapped. Trapped I

say in multiple systems of weakness, just rocking back and forth like a

guilty pendulum waiting for its opportunity to slice open the strings of sanity.

I will be there god and they will be my people. I will cause them to

keep their appointments while breathing. I will cause the to keep their

appointments long after breathing has ceased. These colorful

buildings housing these colorful hearts that hide their blackened

agendas. I will dissect them all and pin them down to my tables and they

will know whose name is fire. They will know my freedom. The masonic

works that are erected with their hands will melt in my presence. Time

will eat it’s own casing. The very shell that causes the sun to throw down

its light to an Earth full-blown with disease will worship me. I will give

them eyes hungry enough to drink in the fullness of the apocalypse. In

the chambers of my house will I keep them saddled dumb by force. In

prison palaces of the future I will silence the wicked in darkness.

At that moment Primrose fell to the ground convulsing, foaming at

the mouth. His nurse quickly arose from the shadows of the dimly lit

laboratory to administer his injection. When he came to the menace had

left his voice and eyes. His face was as that of a playful child. The drug

he needed coursed through his veins with intended purpose to soothe a

tormented mind that would one day collapse in such a way that the

whole world would be witness to its transformation.

In a deluge Primrose walked out into the surrounding forest

disoriented and cowering wishing his thoughts of what had just taken

place to be thrown into a pit prepared for the dead. These thoughts

assaulting his frail mind Like cupidis lunatics that dance with fever in the

streets,

Dancing with blank faces; marching, arms locked at the ends, hand in

hand marching deathless these thoughts race with penetrating

accusation across his mind. Walking lost, he hid in the shallow salt brine

shadows by the edge of the stream attempting to separate each previous

moment one from another. Trying to compartmentalize them, trying to

bind them. If these moments are not bound and have the chance to

reproduce in cancer-virus fashion the final state will be darker than the

beginning. With each new copy, with each new revolution of similar

events these thoughts will grow more and more confused until action is

caused to manifest itself as the newest child of a demented malaze. He

can not allow this deviant action to begin its cycle again. There must be

some sort of breach to this pre-pcychotic break.

Morphic resonance passing its tumors of remembrance of my

broken mind. How can I take knowledge and grow from these faceless

holograms of repentence and mischief. No longer will I be trapped in this

judgement review weeping at three-dimensional films shown to me

under these incomplete shadows. As a being of light refusing, I must be

force-fed the viewing with no defense at my disposal. Flowers burning

bright in the eyes of those who supplanted me with exile. I will leave my

imprints on their hollow minds. Faithless mortals coiled around superficial

erections that are able to save nothing. They will despair every moment

at the weapons I will create that will derail their misunderstood fortune

soldiers. I will form the tribunal of carnal diligence using left over redactor

models that will fly upon the wings of the beasts that I shall create to

shatter the robots of paradise. It has taken me again resistance is not an

option. This alter is stronger than I am.

“Embrace me”. Deep screams to deep creams to deep. My head

is eaten up with holophonic sound. “Call on the eaters of the dead.

They dance silent, unseen in the city street. Come with me.”

If in a moment one could define the character of a hero what would it be? A noble act, a selfless deed, an act of sacrifice? If in a moment I could define a hero I would say beyond doubt that I know of only two, their names; Jonas and Bear. Though I can say in earnest that there are many who would disagree.
To illustrate the subjective nature of their deeds I give to you a story. A grand tale of bitter-sweet delight ,pain and joy, challenge and triumph. It is indeed a story for the introspect that requires one to look inside to see if they are capable of sitting in judgement.

It was a dismal winter. Snow fell as a wave upon the shore, the grains of sand beneath; our heroes. Closer inspection reveals the eyes upon these grains, peering just above a bank in the white. Floating, their eyes drift to and fro, searching the mass for some indication of weakness in the ranks of the soldiers above.

Jonas what the hell are we doing here?

You know good and well why we are here Bear, I dare ask why you even fathom such a question.

Well my first doubt has arisen Jonas. I just don't see the point of this plan. To die in a blaze of futile glory is not what I had envisioned for the moment of my death.

What other way would you have it? Seeing your grandchildren visit you in pain and sadness as you suffer needless in bed. To watch from a clear mind as the body is ravaged by age in front of your eyes. Your corporeal self consumed as you sit helpless and humbled?

Well no Jonas. But what else would you have me do? Die here today...A tragedy unknown to all but those who see the fall.
Who is talking about dying Bear? Is there ever a moment when you don't find pessimism laced in all things.

“Trembling with that reconstruction and fear of love.”

1. 1/17/01---We were all gathered for grandma’s parting and my mother was talking to her. I distinctly remember her voice in the back room of my mother’s former home. It scared me a little so I came home from mark’s at 310 in the morning. At the gathering my father was drunk and fell off the top of the house and down into a riveen. I jumped off of the house to save him and my sister was yelling with terror in her voice. He got out of the riveen claiming that he was just fine. The attention of the dream then shifted to a teddy bear that was sitting on the porch that was made out of ground beef. I asked if I could put it on the grill but my uncle joe seem to think that would not be a good idea. His eyes did not seem to be his own.

1. 11/9/01—I am currently on the third day of a fast with only water and juices. I had a wonderful lucid dream this morning after I had already awoken for the first time. Then I went back to sleep and had a flying dream it was awesome. Some sort of bull dozer was outside my residence window and it was about to smash it in. I jumped up into the spoon of the machine and began crawling around inside trying to stop it from accomplishing its goal. This is the point where the dream became lucid because I made a conscious effort to grab a certain part of the spoon. So there I am in the dream. I realize that I am dreaming and totally loose interest in the bull dozer. Mt attention then focusses on a male figure in the woods by my “dream” home. It is someone who I am aquainted with but do not know on that personal of a level. He seems to be in some sort of trouble and he seems a bit malicious in nature so this is the point where I fly away.

In flight I look down to discover that I am flying over a house I previously lived in, in Denton TX. The house with ben jacki and paul, but the house is set apart with no surrounding houses insight, just lots of hills. I flew twice in this dream.

The second time was over the house again and again it was a conscious effort to do so, but the 2^nd time I flew directly between a set of power lines which startled me, but not to bad. I began to ascend very high into the air. Then started to think about the rapture and Jesus. I got a little higher then fell to the ground unscared to hit it because I knew it was a dream. I then ended up in an arcade and the dream was no longer lucid. I was with a girl of juvenile mentality who said she was going to miss me, and that she would no longer have a companion to watch her favorite cartoon with: Scooby Doo. I told her I had to go and the dream was over.

This dream leads me to believe that lucidity is a cycle. First the dream must start. Then the realization occurs. The lucid factor is lived through then the cycle ends in a banal dream where the dreamer is no longer in control. I have never awakened straight from a lucid dream into this reality. The cycle has always been present. I just realized this today. A simple concept really, I just realized it none the less.

1. after this I had another dream that I was at hsbc and ofcourse there was tons of food…mallory morrison was there and he gave me a plate which was going to be my first meat meal after a year without eating meat…which will be on 01/01/04…it was a dove sandwhich…I ate it…then 2-pac started singing gospel songs as I went out the back door of the church…the dream ended

gurus in drag

they sit and stare at the patrons

that frequent the soma bars near

McDougals Chinese Shoes

On the corner of brazos and old spanish train

The elevator that could be seen from

Moticello was on fire with good jazz

All the marks of trouble where

imprinted on the night

stoned brilliant

like leaves racing across scarred concrete

thoughts one by one marched over the minds

of the freshly intoxicated somites

their hot minds jumping from one

magical moment to the next

a freedom sequestered

quarantined in a gentle chaos

subdued by neon lights and gin

angel trash these men chained to their small dreams

these spirit fire white island minds

in service to the soma king

indeed there is a devil in the white city tonight

death lurking somewhere behind a

blue steel door

the killing room is coming soon

ZARAKONON

“The horizon is so pretty grandfather look at all the

pretty, violets and oranges playing together. I love the

sky grandfather. Do you love it too? Do you

grandfather?”

“Yes deeply little one, very deeply. Soon it will be

nightfall Ms. Calyx and I will need to return you to

your mother.”

“Butt the sky is so pretty. I don’t want to leave

it here all alone. It might cry if I leave it.

Grandfather?”

“Yes?”

“Before we leave will you tell me one more time the

story about my favorite spots that are in the sky? What

are they called again? Constimations?”

“No little one those spots are called constellations, and I

bet I can spot your favorite one. It’s that one right over

there just above the eastern horizon isn’t it?”

“That’s it grandfather! That’s it! I like it so much

grandfather because the one in the middle is

my favorite color.”

“And what is your favorite color little

one?”

“Blue silly, you knew that.”

“So I did. So I did.”

“Will you tell me the story now granfather? Please,

please, please?”

“OK little one ofcourse I will tell you. Well, do you see

that star there in the middle?”

“Uh huh.”

“It isn’t actually a star. It is really a planet.”

“What’s a planet grandfather?”

“Shhh. And on this planet there lives this being called

man. These beings have two arms, two legs, a heart,

and a few other minor parts. We were similar to these

beings many eons ago.”

“What’s an eon grandfather, and don’t I have a cousin

named Eon?”

“No dear that’s Ian, and eon simply means a long long

time.”

“So what is a heart?”

“A heart can be used for many different

things now, but back then it was pretty much confined

to just a couple of uses. Now it is an extremely versatile

object and has always been a well designed apparatus I

might add, but back then it’s versitility just wasn’t

understood. These beings used their hearts as parts of

their body’s. They were the engines for a poorly kept,

squishy sort of machine, a sort of costume really. These

hearts kept their body’s in an operating condition so

they could go on living. I think I have an old one

in my toolbox in the shed behind my shack.”

“What do you do with yours?”

“I keep tools and things like that in it most of the

time.”

“Do I have a heart grandfather?”

“No silly, we really don’t use them for much around

here anymore. Hearts are mainly kept by old geezers

like me as a sort of comical, nostalgic bridge to a time

almost forgotten.”

“Can I have one?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Now where were we?”

“You where telling me that the beings had legs and

arms and a heart like the one in your tool box. What

did they do with their hearts again Grandfather? Who

made their hearts? Who gave hearts to them?”

“Shh little one I will tell you. The creator gave hearts

along with legs and arms and eyes to these beings on

your pretty blue star. Here we call the creator Overiah,

but he has many many names. Your pretty blue star is

named Earth. I am not exactly sure what these beings,

which called themselves men, keep inside of their

hearts. All I am sure of is what they used them for

physically. I do however know that their eyes are made

out of some of the same stuff. Many eons ago Overiah

visited Earth, and as is his custom, he got all dressed up

in the costumes in which they wore. The costumes I

told you about earlier. The beings called themselves

men. Anyway the creator went back to visit these men

so he could give them something that he had forgotten

to give them the last time he was there, which was

when he had first created the place.”

“What did he give them Grandfather?”

“Well, little one Overiah never actually got to give his

gift to all of them. You see, when he had gotten there

he began to notice that all of the men’s eyes were shut

tight with this hard, grey stuff that they were calling

cement.”

“What is cement Grandfather?”

“I think it is kind of like that stuff your uncle Leo uses

when he is repairing the bridges around town.

“Oh”.

“Overiah asked them why they had sealed their eyes

shut, but all of the men acted as if they could not

understand what he was saying.”

“Where their ears broken Grandfather? Look, I can

bend mine without touching them. See.”

“No, their ears were working fine. It turned out that their hearts had been acting up somehow and it’s malfunction caused their eyes to grow cement over them. It had also affected their hearing somewhat too. They could hear but they couldn’t understand. So these men threw Overiah in prison after they beat him.”

“What was he going to give the mans Grandfather?” “He was going to give them transportation codes to the stars. The keys to the universe, like the ones we have and use to get from place to place in the cosmos. No big deal really, he had just forgotten to leave them the first time he was there that’s all.”

“Was he mad at the mans for beating him?”

“Not at all. He thought it was just some silly new game that they had made up for amusement. You know kind of how you play with your jacks. One gift Overiah gives to all of his creations is the ability to play and make up games.”

“Oh!”

“He just thought they were being silly.”

“What happened next Grandfather?”

“So while the creator was in prison he met this man and he talked to him for a little while to see if he could find out the rules to this odd game that he was unfamiliar with. The man told Overiah that the guards refused to let him out until he covered his eyes with cement.” Overiah replied by saying, “Well why would one want to do a thing like that, then they wouldn’t be able to see.”

“Overiah then asked him why he had not done it. He told Overiah that he knew that he would be back soon and wanted to see what he looked like. He then asked him how he knew that he would be back because his arrival was quite unplanned, and he really could not stay long, just a few days or so.

“So how did you know?” said Overiah to the man. “Just a hunch.” The man replied. “Hey, I have always been curiuous, what’s your name?”

“My name is Overiah. And what is yours?”

“Clay.”

So Overiah looked at Clay and said “Let’s get out of here.”

“So together they decided to leave the prison. Then they told the guards that they were ready to be set free. The guards on the other side of the door told Overiah and his new friend, through an interpreter, that they had to put the cement over their eyes if they wanted to come out. Overiah tried to explain to them why he could not follow their game rules and insisted on coming out anyway. This infuriated the cement-eyed men so they began beating him and his new friend Clay. They had also started beating another man that had come out of the shadows in the prison. This man had not yet spoken to the other two, but his eyes were open without cement on them. They were pretty and blue like your star. Overiah asked them politely to please explain the rules to them so that he might understand and play along, but again it was of no use. Overiah’s new friend explained to him that their heart’s had a missing part and they couldn’t listen because the heart condition had changed their ears too. The interpreter was of no use either because he was lost somewhere in the confusion, so the cement-eyed people continued beating them. After the beating the guards threw them back into the prison. Several days and nights passed and the prison became a very dreary place for Overiah to be. He no longer desired to understand to the rules of the game. He had played through their silly game long enough. He just wanted to leave the keys and go home. So early the next morning a young child was walking near the cell where Overiah was contained. He got her attention by whistling like a bird. She came over to the window and said hello to him and kissed him on the hand. Immediately she knew who he was. Overiah gave her the keys and told her to keep them in a safe place away from all things cement. The little girl then placed the keys on the ground and drew a heart around them in the dirt.”

“What does a heart look like Grandfather?”

“It looks like this

.

“The young girl then looked at Overiah and gave him a huge smile and then said in her beautiful little voice “I’ll keep them in my heart.”

Overiah said, “That’s a good girl now run along, but Hope, will you promise me one thing?”

She said, “OK, what is it?”

Overiah said, “Promise me you will never grow up.” She said, “OK silly, but what does that mean?” “Overiah smiled at her and then let out a very cheery laugh because you see, he understood the rules to her game perfectly.”

Overiah said, “Just run along Hope, I will see you later.”

“Bye Bye” said the girl and she skipped away.

“The next day Overiah insisted upon leaving. So did Clay and the other man that he had met there. When the guards let them out a second time they were all beaten severely again.”

“Was Overiah mad at them this time?”

“He was very sad that he didn’t understand the rules, but he never gets angry. So the cement-eyed people eventually beat all of them to the point were they could no longer use their costumes to walk around in. The red fluid that the costumes needed to run on was all spilled out on the ground around them. So Overiah left and took his two new friends with him. He was going to continue doing the things that he was doing before he went to Earth.”

“What was that Grandfather?”

“I forget little one but he will be right over there (pointing up and right) tomorrow if you want to go over and ask him yourself.”

“I might, but Grandfather you forgot to finish the story.”

“What did I forget?”

“What did the little girl do with the keys to the universe?”

“She did what she told Overiah she said she was going to do with them. She put them in her heart. It just so happened that she kept her heart in a toy box with all of her other toys. There is no telling where they are today.”

“What did the keys look like?”

“They looked kind of like the ones I keep on the nails in my shed.”

“Oh.”

“Time for you to go to bed little one. Your mother is going to have my head.”

“You’re silly grandfather. I love you.”

“I love you too Hope. Let’s go.”

“Gandfather?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Shhh.”

*******************************

AUTHORS NOTE:

8.8.2009

TAG WILL/COULD FOLD INTO THE CHROME BY MEANS OF HELFORD'S VISITATION TO HIM AT SOME POINT FIS, MIDDLE OR LAST DOESNT NOT MATTER BUT THE TIE IN IS THIS: HELFORD AND THE CHROME NEED SOME OF THE OBJECTS THAT "THE DISSIDENT" CREATES AND LU KANG CARRIES WITH IN HIMSELF AND HIS ART THE ARCHETYPE OF "THE DISSIDENT" PERHAPS A DRIVE OF THE CHROME COULD BE TO FIND THE ARTIFACT FROM "THE IND" THUS REPRESENTING THE DARK FORCE OF THE BALANCE STRUCTURE HILST THE GAIATIC COULD BE ITS COUNTER CATCHING HELFORD IN THE MIDDLE TO SEEK TO STRIKE A BALANCE THROUGH A HUMAN THAT IS PULLED THIS WAY AND THAT AT THIS POINT HE DOES NOT QUESTION THE CHROME, ITS ORIGINS, ITS MOTIVES, OR THE POSSIBILITY THAT THEY MAY NOT BE WHAT THEY CLAIM TO BE AND THAT THERE COULD BE OTHER SOURCES AND RACES THAT WILL VIA FOR HIS ATTENTION AND ALLIGENCE. OTHERS WILL ATTEMPT TO PULL JERSEY INTO THEIR WORLDS RANGING FROM CHAOS TO COMPLETE FABRICATION AND LIKE A HALUCINATION HE WILL HAVE TO DETERMINE WHAT IS REAL VS. WHAT COULD BE MULTIPLE PSYCHOTIC BREAKINGS OF HIS MIND. WHAT IS REAL? WHAT IS CONCRETE? ALL BOUNDARIES WILL DISSOLVE AND WHAT WILL BE LEFT? ONLY HELFORD KNOWS

THIS NOTE IS AN ATTEMPT TO EXPLAIN HOW "TAG" FOLDS INTO CHROME.

IT ALSO MAKES ME WANT TO GO BACK AND LOOK AT "THE FESTIVAL OF THE GAIATIC SAINTS I WROTE IN 2005.

IT ALSO MAKES ME WANT TO REVISIT "THE IND" SKETCHES TO USE THEM AS A VISUAL ANCHOR FOR BALANCE IN WRITING "CHROME"

Outline for Writing Project over China 2007

“Black China”

Gather and Organize ALL Raw Data in a time line.

Begin a Rough Draft.

Time Line

Start with Daily agenda and Jones Itinerary to spark memory.

View Pictures and write about each pertinent event.

View Video Footage and do the same.

Two Personal Videos

One Viking Video

One DVD Power Point given to me by Max Wang concerning the Yangtze River.

Consult written notes in Black China Journal

Chinese business Idea

A. Create a website called “thechinesestamp.com” a simple site where you plug your name into a field and software immediately translates your name into Chinese. You then get to choose from several shapes, sizes, colors, and designs of your personal Chinese Stamp(like the ones Tish, me, and Canan got in Shanghai)…Discuss this with Thaddeus.

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