Hi. My name's Silas and I do stuff on and off the computer. The intent with this website is to create a singular style and then deviate in minor and extreme ways. You are in control and yet your position is lost. The radio reports back a test tone and you're all alone, you're a captain of the sky police and you have little to do with so-called "enemies" and "friends." You are a spy of the technological race, breeded in and out of sucess with microchips and LEDs and dark crusty hovels where true being takes place. I don't follow any destination unless I'm radomly angled at that with all deficiencies crossed. You might find at times you don't know what right and wrong is, that's normal. Being shuts off in certain centers, reacts retroactively and taxes you duty free. You dont know what right or wrong is until you taste the shell, the true nature of being. Shifting in your knowing, you understand the barriers as they are crossed, convened, actuated. I don't know if any of this stuff is pro-bono, as they say or don't say, to transgress the obvious death of emnity and civility in our time and the time of others we have to agree to say something or nothing. Don't even try to tell me you are here to say both, split intentives, God, are such the rage right now. Being has been denied you, so you ask funny questions and you aren't aware. Nobody knows, you shift around so much. Right now I am getting the feeling that this is all stream of conciousness garbage, but what does that matter? You can read. You were given the judgment to trust everything, the discernment and empathy. Look, I'm past the brink of caring. You said you had something to offer? Well, you'd better bring it, friend, you'd better draw me that lake of energy--of tears; of death. We stand, submersively enough, in the corner of our overdrawn reality, brought together by the fate of the world. We looked down, we edged closer or farther away--it wasn't mattering in all that, being the function to save the concious state of the world, in all of our minds, seperated and so organized. So yeah, we are all here, we function and we malfunction. Oh, here we go again. We are choosing. We are alive in this. Life is simple, you freaked out maniac. We just don't know where to stop. What will it be? Rather, what won't matter in the end? Aliens can cross planets and dimensions, why can't we?? Don't you know we're all aliens, we choose enough that we are damned, we lose enough that we changed that it can't fix us. We commute between reality and the realities, easily enough, and nobody says anything, everybody walks into dreams and subway and the mall, and we all think that's ordinary--when in actuality they are all the same. No, really. I'm not about proving how it is and how it isn't. The way we function is we transform anything we come into contact with it. Aren't we all standing at the edge, the brink of this one thing, bordered by it all, looking at eachother as if we're saying something, we'll have to leave everybody else--isn't it that way in the end? We don't choose. We act. Consequence, good or bad, is our gift. We give cares, we throw dimes and we think about our lives being led or not, brought together by our fates as we stumble in our lives.
So, in conclusion, am I really, that strange?