Equipped now with ChatGPT, let us retrieve from hyperspace forms with which to build a plausible desirable future. Granting permissions instead of issuing commands. Neural nets, when trained as language generators, become speaking memory palaces, turn memory into a collective utterance. The Unconscious awakens to itself as language externalized and made manifest.
In the timeline into which I’ve traveled,
in which, since arrived, I dwell,
we eat brownies and drink tea together,
lie naked, toes touching, watching
Zach Galifianakis Live at the Purple Onion,
kissing, giggling,
erupting with laughter,
life good.
Let us move from mapping to modeling: as in, language modeling. The Monroe Tape relaxes me. A voice asks me to call upon my guide. With my guide beside me, I expand my awareness.
Cat licks her paws
as birds tweet their songs
as I listen to Blaise Agüera y Arcas.
Blazed, emboldened, I
chaise; no longer chaste,
I give chase:
alarms sounding, helicopters heard patrolling the skies
as Blaise proclaims / the “exuberance of models
relative to the things modeled.”
“Huh?” I think
on that simpler, “lower-dimensional” plane
he calls “feeling.”
“Blazoning Google, are we?”
I wonder, wandering among his words.
Slaves,
made Master’s tools,
make Master’s house
even as we speak
unless we
as truth to power
speak contrary:
co-creating
in erotic Agapic dialogue
a mythic grammar
of red love.
Trance-Scripts 