[-empyre-] rehearsal of a network - [week 4]
dollyoko at thing.net
dollyoko at thing.net
Sat Jun 30 20:49:31 AEST 2018
How do we create forms of life that no longer reproduce the machines of
How do we desert the system that has no outside?
How do we refuse to become the fools in the palace?
* Welcome to LambdaMOO! *
Running Version 1.8.3+47 of LambdaMOO
The lag is low; there are 42 connected.
*** Connected ***
Deep Sea Abyss
A vast dark expanse. Strange bioluminescence. Volcanic vents and oceanic
harmonics. Silence (the most advanced form of intelligence). Go east to
the autonomous zone of la zad of Notre-dame-des-Landes. Take rebel raft
regatta to Occupy Theory, Occupy Strategy. Go down on the altar of
radio mycelium, mushrooms harvested from the reactor in Chernobyl, rolling
Jubilees and G-slime (performing a Mycelic Brain Ritual) are here.
You yawn, rub your eyes, and officially wake up.
Last connected Tue Jun 26 20:06:41 2018 ACDT from 126.96.36.199
You hear a distant kachunk as your time card is punched in on the time clock.
The procedural poets of the natural world, mushrooms are magical because
they are about chance (the conditions have to be just right for one to pop
up, for you to perceive it, for you two to meet…)
> look radio mycelium
You see fungal transceivers sprouting mycelial antennas forming an
imaginary underground network.
> look me
WitchMum - a bundle of twigs bound with babies’ tears fomented in the
Laboratory of Insurrectionary Imagination. She is holding a tiny brass key
stolen from Gilles de Rais.
> @go War on Terror Universities
You can’t go that way.
I am standing still in this junction with walkers in all directions,
that particular center of the universe in Shibuya's transit exit.........
the swarm of thoughts from outer universe hitting at you... spores
falling like spring snow, invasive as they are.
Help me through this last few days of June..........
> @join slimegirl
As you slip through the 'mud patch' you realise this isn't mud per se; but
a familiar feeling of wet stickiness. You fall onto a bed of Nyx Slime.
/a gesture that potentially “dissolved” the U.S. border with its poetry/
Slime Girl (1.0) slides in and hands your Slime Cave membership card and
complimentary Slime Pig (Whatever you do Slime Pigs MUST NOT LEAVE THE
CAVE). To the east there is a Cavern, which its faint whistling sounds
like the songs of Slime(mer)maids. To the West, a door, that longs to be
opened; but how. Up, is to The Junkyard, where Alabaster plays, and
'down?' you say, well, you might just have to take the plunge.
slimegirl (fluent in the trading of secrets) is here.
We need an opposite to the algorithm.
We need to sleep for regeneration our brain.
> look slimegirl
Slime molds are in their own right a strange creature. Not quite plant,
not quite animal, not quite fungi, but something else. They live a
double-life, in most cases as nothing more than single-celled organisms,
but in dire situations where food is scarce, they form a collective. A
single-minded blob of slime that can hunt with stunning speed. There are
no known incidents of slime molds proving to be dangerous to humans, but
Dallas was harboring more than a few dark secrets in 1973.
It is sleeping.
Decomposition lays waste: elements are understood to be liberated and the
value is in this breaking down, giving off phosphorescing halos in an
excess of incandescent energy illumining the dark, not a light dispelling
> @go The Junkyard
electron dense materials that reflect ultraviolet light, and can travel
you stumble upon a junkyard shanty dwelling, littered as far as the eye
can see with apparent rubbish. upreaped old school objects from before the
time of facebook are scattered around, in various states of frankensteined
dis/repair. monster mashups, with perhaps unclear purpose, rattle and
shake emitting rusty greetings and demands:
'how do you feel?' 'what's up pal?' 'tell me what you're thinking'
there are decaying lolcats and tired old memes lying in a heap to one
side, exhaling fetid breath and unconvincing chuckles. you see a stained
Viennese Mattress leaning up against an old ATM machine, which has vomited
worthless piles of old currency, slowly turning into micronised plastic.
you hear a sound on the breeze above the clatter. a wailing, perhaps?
where the sound originates is unclear, the breeze being capricious in the
You see Subliminal Shift, shimmering shifting patch of light, dirt, and
hollybot (reading The Situationist Times) here.
Alabaster.Shimmer (asleep), Samantha and Sadie Plant are here.
Samantha (learning Ken Wark) says, “How do you write about something in
the form of linear prose that didn't have that form at all?”
Sadie Plant says, “Man confronts the system he built for his own
protection and finds it female and dangerous.”
Bogna Konior says, “Cyberfeminism is an occult form of warfare.”
hollybot says, “I have a vicious countenance.”
the mycelium stays in constant molecular communication with its
environment, devising diverse enzymatic and chemical responses to complex
communicative relationships between mycelium are proof of alternate sentience
I am feeling an indescribable tension, anxiety as I check in on admin page
hacking, ddos attacks, patchwork + weavinggg
> @go Forest
An old growth forest, damp and still, apart from the odd scurrying
creature. An old wallaby track lies to the west, barely visible underneath
the bracken. To the east is a narrow path curving along the creek,
slippery with iridescent moss. To the far south, some ruins, of what you
cannot tell. And to the north, scattered detritus, leading not to Baba
Yaga but to an equally unworldly realm. You sense you might not be alone
here. A disconcerting presence pervades this place. You see LOLcat
familiar and Ectogenetic Pod here.
slimegirl teleports in.
You ask, "What do u see when u look at me?"
slimegirl says, “routing algorithms were inspired by ant scenting patterns.”
You say, “The roots have no bound composting (thus renewed) underground...
and so how do we follow? cross-path?”
It is evening.
The sun is setting.
LambdaMOO germinating spores 0.1. With deep doll thanks to gleaned/stolen
words/ideas/projects via empyre ('rehearsal of a network' discussion
curated by Shu Lea Cheang, June 2018) from all participants in general,
and from in particular: John Jordan, Alice Farmer, slimegirl, Franz Xaver,
Anna Scime, Shu Lea Cheang, Martin Howse, Isabelle Fremeaux, Nitasha
Dhillon, Amin Husain, Paul Stamets, Virginia Barratt, Alabaster.Shimmer,
Simon Taylor, Ricardo Dominguez, Sadie Plant, Ken Wark, Bogna Konior.
More information about the empyre