How to Destroy Everything by 6billionghosts "You have enemies ok you want to destroy them ok." - tH3 m4n!4c "noise" the gods (kami) provide the noise spirits lurk in the corners of our perception. whether they are born from within or from some external force is not important. the impulses and compulsions of everyday life fuel an assault on the psyche. humanity isolates, interprets the signal and broadcasts it through human creativity. instead of the classic organ at service there is a noiseboard. it is preprogrammed to emit nonmeaningful data while the human youth sing over it. one of the greatest programmers of nonmeaning took it upon himself to program a day of meaning into the noiseboard. he was exiled from the church thereafter. holes in head provide access cosmetic surgery aura = spirit noise embodied each head has spirits try to block out human signal cult of the universal signal silent for a day "it is not the ripples in the water that are beautiful..it is the water itself; peaceful, undisturbed. here at CUSP we try to isolate the moments of beauty we feel by slowing down to the a crawlinmg pacejjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh;;;;ouvps9b8is90r8bur8euhrhjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj enabled. well i may as well give it a shot considering i really have no other desire but to do there are cultures, cults of noise. there are musicians who use noise as a tool but when it becomes a lifestyle, when it overwhelms the �=8��e�2v�?�S�j�� ����0���=���?"�?7Npx��?�� XW��^?EV�,?�SY3Q��V�Ǣ?��I?��,�˂k?5n��ʪ��IrْpόKpo|��[٢=��~�?����՛ڣ*? C�7��v���=�уZi���C�9e�猩 �F�"�î��w?Xϒ?d��_~�?��c1�4f/u��_?��R��6�q Ur��6 ����=K?�k�X?h� �+΋�? >�=?DU'�g~�?��bt,+ii��Uծ�PTA"h>W�?�W�?A?�Wv�w8��?��� مI���"��t8���ð��/.M��l`�V^���8�lL�p��Y?&�3)?`�89�g=? �'H���?Iu0y��. ~bp==U?>������=؂�M?ZFy??y0�8q*������vv�?E??>�߆?H>��"m�� ----- "mechanical me" I hate the pictures they put on the walls. I remember Donald Duck at the nursery school. I despise I despise. The big brown sun shines over NITKE and the Harvard assholedickcunts in us all. Harvard is like an underground mansion with many rooms and all of them are filled with Macintosh products and droning voices like cellophane and NO NO YOU MAY NOT CHANGE YOUR WALLPAPER IT IS DONALD DUCK OR NOTHING YOU LITTLE BASTARD. She told him to greet the brown sun and he said what-ever do you mean because Harvard people always speak with those dashes dots and semicolons and by god if I ever see another semicolon I swear the revolver is on you. in you. in your mouth. it's not just any revolver it is a special model for my mecha robod which is as lesbian she prefers asian women or possibly Portugese but she's really an all-around great person and she's my carapace for facing the harsh world of Reaganomics and fast food and christianity. "I don't celebrate Halloween, I'm a christian. But it's okay, you look cute." said the boy at the coffee shop So she told him to greet the brown sun and he looked out the window and he realized his little harvard-born silver spoon laserdisc fatheaded existence was overshadowed by doubt. doubt in the shape of a brown, bordering on pea-green sun. Whenever I think about writing I want to break down in tears and just start bawling in someone's arms and cry out "I just don't make sense anymore." When really I do it just takes a lot of time to stop making sense, sit down, relax, and make sense for someone other than myself. I think I make sense when I am talking to Nitke though. I don't really need the robod then. My room mate just called me about lunch. I don't think I want to go. The thought of food in my belly Well I just thought it and it wasn't pleasant. The robod feeds off the sexuality of others because people are very sloppy with their emotions and they spread them all around. smear them on everything. some things ought to be spread because of the impact they have but others are just filler. there was a cool delivery truck last year that delivered snak foods to the machines in my dorm. i lived on the 2nd floor above the front entrance (next to AJ) and i could always hear the music coming from the truck. the delivery guy always played this fascinating trip-hop music. one day i hope to look forward to the hours ahead and say to myself with arms outstretched "Oh, what an exercise in futility" and smile a genuine smile. I've never smiled an in-genuine smile in my life and I don't think I ever could. I've smiled in fear but it was a genuine smile. The robod's artificial smile is located at my belly and when it amused, like when the muscles I acquired over summer atrophied into nothing, its flesh twists into a ghoulish smile with no teeth. its skin is pale and clammy and its insides are warm and soft as snow. So I've been thinking and sitting and being somewhat relaxed and in this relaxed state of mind (when I have some of my bestest ideas) I decided I would like to relate my story to you. I will tell it to you how I wanted to in a novel this month for national novel writing month but I've decided I don't really want to do that just yet. 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