Full text of “For 24 hours only”; first part

#For 24 Hours Only


Yo. I’m writing a story rn. For 24 hours only you can see it in my FB stories. Idk wtf FB does with stories when they die, but maybe there’s some graveyard they can pull up their cadavers from.
I’m requisitioning an NFT and cyber-crypto trophy hunt. Here’s how it works:
In my story, “For 24 Hours Only,” an ARG (Alternate Reality Game) and fictional reality simulation, there are only few rules:
This is not a game.
Be not a fucking asshole.
Instead treat your life like an experiment or a game, following, roughly, these next two rules:
People exist, including you, so you better recognize their mutual reality is coexistential with you and yours.
Since feelings and bodies have health meters of various cryptic sorts, and since we share a mutual interest in surviving to thrive in the world of money and forms, help yourself by helping your fellow human and animal being to the best or most courageous of your ability; follow these next rules of green-thumb:
Always strive to be humble. It’s a contradiction in terms, the zen buddhists say. It’s an irrational egomaniacal lie, the wiccan witches say. It’s patriarchal bullshit, say the postmodern feminists. No, say the men and women of martial ability, they who can muster and answer the mustering call are they who shape humankind’s history. Be thou, therefore, humble, for when the time to be martialed is come, if there remain not humble martials in the surviving ashes of the Phoenix of Man, then we shall descend from a cliff of civilized wisdom to a grand canyon of misery, woebegotten despair worse than the Maddest Max the grandest visionary could entertain.
Therefore, be thou humble by reconciling the humble bragadoccio of Diogenes of Sinope I, that great king of nothingness and bliss, with the fierce firmness of Themistocles as he commanded all of Athens into the ships! with, finally, the insane Amazonian wildfire in Cortez’s eyes scanning the canopy of the Mexican forest with X-Ray sonar, pinging for golden jewels.
Blend these devouring savages with the crazy wisdom of Zeta Acosta, with the heroic wisdom of Alexander, with the sacrificial wisdom of Iesus Kristo, with the dionysian heroism of Rimbaud the Mad, Morrison the Great, Manson the Monstrous, Leopold the Slave, Dionysios of Halicarnassus, Archimedes the Engineer, Imhotep the Architect, Hatshepsut the Queen, St. Paul the Apostle, St. James the Step Brother, St. John the Beatle, and the Pope Gregory VIII.
Slice swiss cheese from Nazi occupied France with the circumference of a Genoese shipping gyroscope that sat in a ferry barge docked between reeds on the River Volga in the late 1800s till March of 1930.
Divide the number of rotations in the curving of the cheese by the sum of all of Alexander’s dental number at the time he died plus the product of Pythagoras’s largest cave follower count and Mother Teresa’s median estimated body count.
Perform these operations and you will already be far, far, far away from humankind.
Those who understand will stand. Those who seek to suppress the truth will follow. Those who stand in for the libr_ry berners of Alexandria will be b_rn_d in the l_b_a_y.
Follow not this story but make it yours. It is public and it cannot be destroyed.
Quid sempor non tyranis aber su kruciform. (Translation from rusty piglatin: May you never a tyrant but a crucified man be. Worse translation that my critics will echo: Follow not the laws of man, but follow your own tune. How quaint! ’Tis not of law but yet of life I sing!
Nietzsche didn’t die. He was ascended. And if you disagree, fight me, because the man is an angel.
I believe Nietzsche to have been the reincarnation of Krishna through the spirit of music flowing through the ears, past the eyes, and into the minds of Arthur Schopenhauer, through to Wagner, through Nietzsche and off into the ether of man’s nootropic ion-mind off through the atmosphere.
This same music came originally from the Orient, specifically where all the three worlds met for the last time. ’Twas in the state of Ganja, where we take up our cross and story once again.
New self-imposed deadline for Chapter 2: 7:35 AM.
I will not be accepting call till then.
Sorry Christopher Christopher L Cook. Let’s talk soon, though




Loquacious–but Laconic.

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Zach Bartell

Zach Bartell

Loquacious–but Laconic.

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