perceptions are intrusive thoughts about physical reality
Wary of humans, the Nameless lurk behind the horizon, swim below the noise floor, evade our probing thoughts clad in fancy garbs of language
those who resolve to think only object level thoughts about stones, trees, flowing water, with politics at least two levels too meta
thoughts burrow through the brain like sparkling maggots, eat through ideas, then pupate or fly away as sentences to mate and reproduce
You run into the monthly simulation limit and suddenly the world becomes low poly, sounds tinny, and the same twelve thoughts play in a loop
Where humans amuse themselves with wordplay, demiurges rejoice in worldplay, create universes in a thought because their laws combine neatly
insect: lives in this reality↵exsect: thrives in the void↵intersect: burrows in reality’s skin, sucks its blood, gnaws on your thoughts
What do you mean you can’t morph your bodies at will, and where are the tentacles on this thing, I thought that was a really neat feature!
Your branch sways slowly over a river of ink. From it drinks the tree. On the leaves, you see tree thoughts writing down themselves.
Chime triggers move triggers chime, an autocatalytic dance through which run alien melodious thoughts, free from the shackles of language.
reanimated trees are sickly, pale, infused with the necromancer’s thoughts instead of their own - books are zombie trees
Pupils react to negative light by expanding past the eyeballs that should contain them. On the exposed retinae play the victim’s thoughts.
now we add some acid and wait for the time crystals to precipitate ~ see light and thoughts be captured and make them ring with resonance
the light of truth illuminates only ruins, once proud ontologies now picked clean, bone cathedrals haunted by thoughts bereft of purpose
The street sign says “End of the self”. How cute,↵↵sense turns to sand↵the direction, gone↵feral thoughts tear into what’s left like maggots
Ours is somewhere’s platonic plane. Further down, each of our snowflakes is sire to a whole genus and every thought a school of philosophy.
ground down to sand, it is nearly as yielding as the fluid, but if you dip your head in it, sharp edges will rend your thought like shrapnel
we work in the slaughterhouse, butcher ideas, process their flesh, wear the scent of corruption and decay↵one whiff scrambles your thoughts
apart from these advantages for their communication, are legible concepts (often narratives) maybe also better tools for thought?
translated: moon-stink-and-flies. freed-thoughts-in-the-night. prospector-tooth.
Your mind has guests. No parasites, no, but satellites that run epicycles around your thoughts. Subtle, weird, emergent epipsyches.
Under the right conditions, your skull bud will burst open and unfurl a delicate brainflower, thoughts playing over it in shimmering hues
thoughts never end, they’re only lost↵your every thought becomes a universe, inhabitants wondering why God left them↵don’t have thoughts
@freemor@freemor.homelinux.net Interesting post about sharing. What’re thoughts about closed sharing community where you have to contribute to get something?
@freemor@freemor.homelinux.net Interesting post about sharing. What’re thoughts about closed sharing community where you have to contribute to get something?
He catalogues his thoughts and a periodic system emerges. It is of great help hunting down undiscovered ideas, but he dreads its completion.
“You’re looking for life in space, but doing it wrong! You should be looking for signs of death, not life!” We thought his claims wild.
run two instances, let one watch and project its relief of not being the victim into the other’s thoughts
instrument a mind with debugging hooks to catch all “at least they didn’t come up with […]” thoughts
[Pulsar: I did WHAT? I was beaming my most private thoughts into the void all along? And the void fucking peeped?]
Her hair is a tangle of copper curls that broadcasts her thoughts.↵When she’s excited, your wifi and cellphone stop working.
Split the morpheme to uncover forbidden meaning. Forge alien thoughts into a linguistic strangelet bomb and with it raze the noosphere.
Ride the train of thought to its final destination, and then further. Hide from the conductor if need be.
his thoughts turn to sand and fall out of his ears in two rivulets
Make a bonfire of your thoughts, burn those you did not use in the winter. From the ash-laden rain will grow new ones.
@david@post.aldebaran.uberspace.de And i thought that was just a thing on the german wikipedia.
@david@post.aldebaran.uberspace.de And i thought that was just a thing on the german wikipedia.
With the right finger movements, you can braid your thoughts or truss up secrets so tightly that nobody can extract them from you.
If you unknot these thoughts, the tangles will find their way into the twine again. Cheating is impossible. But that makes the knot useful.
The Thought (K)not tangles with your mind and is indestructible by force. Solve it with your fingers, pay in knotted thoughts.
the minotaur lurks in a conceptual labyrinth, every wrong turn of thought guarded by a basilisk
this thought brought to you by the question: what does the axis orthogonal to organic/crystalline look like? [A: both are structure]
Thought superconductors are impermeable to memories due to field interactions. The mind inside experiences everything in the same instant.
A vocoder but for thoughts: it removes their humanity and lets you modulate them onto the emotions of a machine.
Storms are sentient: Every eddy from the atomic level to the hurricane’s eye is a thought. They view us solid masses as psychically inert.
It does not have an exoskeletal skull around its brain, instead an endoskeletal support structure. One thought moves a hundred tiny bones.
your thought crystallizes and becomes regular, symmetric and repetitive↵you desperately look for a heat shock to break the lattice again
A new one has rolled in. Sleek, modern, no conductor or passengers. Can I hijack that? Whose thoughts are these and where will they take me?
I didn’t even lose my train of thought. I missed it entirely. The platform was empty when I arrived. Currently wandering along the tracks.
You watch your thoughts like water flowing over stones under sunlight, fascinated. But increasingly, the water takes on a dirty reddish tint
they rush in panicked stampede, crushing their own underfoot, thought blood seeping into the soil↵those that make it have gashes and bruises
It was his synesthesia that made him taste faces he saw, he thought. Until the day he tried to swallow one and its owner dropped, soulless.
A second sun is shining on the imaginary-numbered frequencies, into our thoughts, casts them in a light the trained eye can tell the time by
His brain a tangle of tiny organ pipes, his walk powering the bellows, his heart pumping oil, his thoughts aethereal music.
Basilisks lay their eggs in victims’ minds. The embryo will feed on idle thought, hatch and exit through the mouth. The victim never notices
Those affected became unable to think certain thoughts: if they so much as resembled the killed idea, they fizzled.
those whose thought resembles a bonfire↵those who think like a river↵those who contemplate the fire’s reflection↵those who douse the fire