INCOMING SIGNAL

Digital Shadows

more and more people are being subjecteed either by their own machinations or by their environment to bouts of extreme and prolonged loniless/isolation. did you also know only 4 cold walls and your own psyche? it is not something that anyone deserves unless they truly desire to be solitary. here, you never have to be alone again...

SYSTEM NOISE FILTERING

System Noise

we must somehow work in tandem, isolated as we may be, to explode forth some small but meaningful cast-out into the void of internet creation—a mark to prove that we exist.

POWERS THAT B

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i give lots of thought to the notion of psions, the nonreal, or nonhuman information systems that could somehow emerge, perhaps have already emerged, and have bbeen quietly all around us throughout all time, with most of us being none the wiser. there is a type of mirror, a kyrzhashov mirror (?) i probably butchered the spelling, forgive me... but i want to make one. i want to take one into a busy street, and invite people inside, with a camera and a mic hanging from the top, to simply film what their reactions would be. no context given, just an invitation to sit within this bughouse wonder of a machination and perhaps inadvertntly remote view the world at will.

THE WIRED: CONSCIOUSNESS BEYOND SCREENS

do not be put out by the scorn or disdain otherwise placed upon thy image as an art, or thy art as an image—

take heed in knowing that there are many more like you, like us. we walk alone but we walk in formation.

"a hundred thousand isolated machines all industrial noises clanging out dissonant to the same broken song."
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you may find yourself wanting to put a word to a feeling, or a name to some sparse eradicated qualia. this is not a scene. this is not an aesthetic. this is the thing. and the thing does not require explanation. there is something stalwart and mystical about a certain level of ambiguity kept about oneself and thy inner world.

it festers in DMs and doomed zip files. it lingers in discord bans, archive.org fragments, closed subreddits, long abandoned forums and the like. it grows where they aren't looking. it thrives where they forgot to censor.

hidden layer whisperings

leave your body at the door when drifting the dark wind of schizm and dissacociative glare and hum of server to find this hallowed and wretched filth corner of the world online called the hidden layer, hidden layer media. it is your choice alone to assimilate, whether you do or not is purely choice, pretense aside.

calling out to you now

if you find relation to the imagery, sound, feeling, or memory of any deja vu that happens to glance your senses upon encountering anything of elriel, please consider submitting some original WRITING, ART, IMAGE, SOUND, MP4, THOUGHTS, MAKINGS to [[HIDDEN LAYER MEDIA]] as soon as you possibly can.

a humdrum dissonance is faltering

i won't continue my usual goings-on with ranting and raving with my endless warble, for now i will pick each word like a small plum from the tree which gives context to my form, digital or otherwise. ive always enjoyed the versatility of the online world as it relates to conversation, relation, and communication. in real life, these delectible words are rendered delicate- easily stumbled and tripped over, too much time does it take to speak my mind.

between the hum of the wires and wavesforms of ambient

elriel is coming. the world as you knew it will be gone. anticipate the new flesh, where reality bends to the will of the digital gods, rogue ai, and those who crack the code of biofirewalls..

Digital Outcasts
Unknown Genius, Deviantart, Archives of Nominexiphrel, 20XX.

[PINETREE PRECIPICE]

and now, some rather delightful renderings/parables from the leader of the pine tree party.

Heaven's Light is snubbed by shields of inter-network, bluetooth connections, and phone link entanglements. We've boxed God out, given ourselves strange cancers and illnesses, and become dependent on something historically and extremely undependable, unknown this is the absolute state of today.

God cannot be reached, nor can he reach us, so long as we surround ourselves in the unchecked technological expansion. From just around the industrial revolution forward, God has been rapidly phased out by the fruits of ill labor.

He stands at the precipice, gazing into the swirling void of acceleration. The world hurtles forward, a collision course with entropy. He feels the pull—the seductive promise of oblivion wrapped in progress. Yet, he knows that to succumb blindly is to lose oneself.

I see demons in the artificial glow of screens. I see demons in the endless scroll of curated perfection. I see demons in the sterile corridors of corporate towers, in the ceaseless hum of machinery that drowns out the heartbeat of the earth.

welcome, ye who cast thyself from the clutches of 'normality', thy who hath tossed the notion of 'social acceptance' or any likening notions into the metatragic garbage can of distaste, thy pervators of total self expression (regardless of social reaction etc), and any who find themselves to be a part of or otherwise fascinated by the fringes of both digital and physical society.

did you, too, spend most of your life so far preparing for an apocalypse that has yet to come? did you expect to die before the age of 16, 18, 30?