rambling on

My mood has been set in the 60s and 70s most of today with the likes of The Yardbirds, The Rolling Stones, The Doors, Ten Years After, The Mamas & The Papas, and Led Zeppelin to be exact.

And I’ve been on this video every time I’ve been on Youtube over the past four days. I must watch the movie again soon.

What do you think about Death taking a break and taking time smell the roses? I thought so too and plugged a prompt into Midjourney to see what would come back.

And I could resist crafting a vignette from the image…

Death, cloaked in a shroud of black velvet, wandered into the rose garden, seeking solace in the rapturous hues of reds and pinks. Her fingers, like skeletal serpents, grazed the petals, stirring whispers in the wind. Eons of final breaths clung to her, and even the sweetest fragrance struggled to mask the scent of life’s end.

She sat on a worn stone bench, her mere presence wilting the roses that dared to grow too close. Death sighed, the air around her growing heavy with the weight of a thousand spirits. Each petal, a lost soul; each thorn, a final farewell. The roses, so much like the humans she guided beyond, were beautiful, ephemeral, and fragile.

The sun dipped low, casting long shadows that cradled her in a twilight embrace. She found solace in these quiet moments, a reprieve from the eternal dance with fate. The garden, a sea of crimson, bloomed defiantly against the tides of time, a stubborn reminder of life’s persistence.

But even in her momentary respite, the garden’s beauty began to wane. The roses, once vibrant and full of life, now withered beneath her gaze. She looked down, a single tear falling from her eyes like the kiss of the moon, leaving an imprint of silver in the dying petals.

In the end, Death could not escape her calling. She rose from the bench, the colors of twilight swirling around her as a fleeting embrace, and continued her appointed rounds. She knew that even as the roses wilted beneath her touch, new life would one day bloom, a testament to the cycle that she, herself, had come to embody.

How does one get to be a a cult figure in the avant-pop underground?

This book promises to reverse the effects of years of exposure to the harmful emissions of television, movies, glossy magazines, and commercial bestsellers.

If you’re looking to read something challenging and non-standard, I’d recommend this books. It features some of the greats in innovative fiction, folks like Samuel Delaney, Kathy Acker, Tim Ferret, Derek Pell, Mark Leyner (my favourite), Eurudice, and William Vollmann, oh and ‘rap-fiction’ master Ricardo Cortez Cruz.

Do a good deed.

These two are forever together for me – Never Tear Us Apart, INXS and Donnie Darko.

I’m increasingly captivated by the intersection of artificial intelligence and creative expression, particularly as I revisit the works of writers such as William S. Burroughs, Brion Gysin, Mark Leyner, and David Shields. For me, AI has become an infinite playground. My subconscious mind is having a grand old time. I remixed this post about language as a virus.

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