Reliable Fungus

Feeling quite lethargic today. I want to go out but I’m far too malnourished for any sort of hike. I have to be careful. If I get stuck in this slump I’ll render myself too weak to actually go out and find food.
Fungus is reliable.
I once remember hearing that fungus could survive the apocalypse.
Apparently it can.
Not only is it a legitimately good food source, but metaphorically, the nature of the mushroom keeps me moving forward, even in times of despair. One spore on the wind will eventually find its way to the proper substrate and bloom into any of the millions of different fungal strains and species. A plethora of possibilities for the existence of life. Fungus persists against all odds.
I think I recall seeing some mushrooms just down the back path from my house. That’s as far as I will go today…
Delectablefungus Success! I’ve found quite the delectable looking mushroom. Definitely not poisonous- I’ve seen this kind before. This should assure me enough energy to set out and find some real sustenance tomorrow morning. A definite cause for celebration.
But still hunched over, investigating the edibility of this delightful ‘shroom, I had a thought. I have noticed that wherever a fully grown mushroom stands, there are almost always a grouping of smaller mushrooms congregating around it, like its loyal family or friends. When one crumbles, the next will rise with its own set of comrades to gather round it- a perpetual commune.
It suddenly struck me that I don’t see enough people. I need to find some trusted friends. My survival may depend on it. Being alone for so long cannot be healthy.
But first…
Mushroom soup.

A Flower…

What is this I found?
I haven’t seen something like this in years.
I wish I could remember what it was called…
Flowerwhatthe

Ebb & Flow

elementalcoil

Earthly music, use it abuse it choose it to be what your mind will see in the future three women, one past, one now one then I don’t know when sometime somewhere a room with four walls decaying sound increase no peace in here can’t find a use for all these theories and queries in my brain, my brain, my brain can’t quite grasp onto the knots I’m tying and trying to be viably something the world can take from and give to I mean to continue to create and procreate my mental offspring let my cortex sing sweet things playing  membraneous strings. Count your blessings and stop messing about with surviving and live for a moment some moment in time not now not then but how and why and what does everything mean to you, to him, to her and where does it all fit in we are all the same being and seeing what I see you can attempt to let it be or you can sit and let your instinct see and feel and do and become anything the world wants you to drum beat the drum beat the scum out of the sewers of technological singular complexes, lying in drugged hexes seeing all sexes as equally one but still unique for their own sums and drum beats some meet eachother some don’t some won’t ever see the light and some won’t see the dark, some pass through both willingly some will be dragged on and ragged on, but fighting is figuratively good but physically evil, but evil is in life and life to be lived, I gave life to my world and the world to my life. Soak it up soak it in, the cycle begins and ends at the same spot, infinity is not infinite on an infinite timeline my mind feels like a big bang that once rang out to the universe took its course from the elemental excess of one and two and three equal something not quite seen before a parallel existence with all and all merging and emerging from the ashes of itself where it can, it can and will, the will will never stop and the beat can never drop, drip, drops of water rust metal, iron, more iron-ons more materials for serials and sequences my weakness is something unforeseen like a futuristic dream of the world mingled with the world I live in, breathe in, give in to the eternal ebb and flow right now.

Static

Close to sunrise I sat wide-awake listening to the rain bombard my home. Usually I find the sound soothing, but the irregular patter of water against what might have been sheet metal gave it a unique static resonance. As the rain beat harder, the static got louder and I could not help but think of all those rejected robots- homeless and rusting in the rain and humid air.
To be honest, the static may not have been merely a product of the rain. It seems to follow me wherever I go. The electronic hum and buzz persists to echo through the city, day and night.
Every corner has it’s own perverse version of a human lurking about. Robotics created in the image of mankind- machines which once held the potential to become worthy successors to the human race upon extinction.
Not any more.
I imagined water flowing over the cold steels and aluminums. Seeping between the joints, lubricating the fine engineering within. Frying it.
Do they fear their own mortality?
Emotional response must surely be limited at best. With no purpose for existence what need is there for emotion? Certainly if any have the capacity, their entire processes must be devoted ceaselessly to despising their makers. What cruelty to construct a soulless, meaningless consciousness with nothing to live for.  Perhaps in a better world they could’ve been put to use, but not now- not in this world.
rainrobot
Sitting dry, my discontent could not be quelled knowing these once glorious designs sat soaking outside.

Tomorrow I will try to help them…

Fish Dinner

I traded eight half-charged double-A batteries for a small fish this morning. I would’ve preferred something less volatile, but you have to take what you can get.
Fish is not ideal in most cases these days. When it’s fresh the taste is almost surreal, but nearby bodies of water are so overly contaminated that there’s no guarantee you’ll finish your dinner without some strange sickness. Unfortunately, it was either I risk the fish or I try my hardest to eat a handful of batteries tonight. I’m far too hungry for that.
fishdinner
A fair trade I suppose… At least they weren’t C’s. My flashlight uses C’s…

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RKM

The year is 1984. Figuratively.
The world has been obliterated by apocalypse. Figuratively.
Only the twisted designs of the extremely wealthy walk the Earth in despair.
Radiation causes significant memory loss. I often find myself in places with no recollection of how I got there.
I often find myself in dreams and cannot discern them from my waking life…
RKMcharacter1
My only solace in this scorched world is having a place to express my thoughts and try to deconstruct them into some semblance of sanity.
I do my best to maintain relative clarity in my writings and drawings of the life I live but in such chaos I can’t always be clear. Bare with me…

More soon…