As the race car drivers say, don’t look at the wall if you are heading toward it, look at where you want to go, and where I want to go is through those shimmering planes of improbable coincidence, through the interstices of the web, sparkling constellations of thought forms and images encoded as zeros and ones, indeterminate autonomous zones where fellow mutants disassociate from Babylon Matrix, shape-shift and shimmer iridescently with possibilities. I seek to follow time lines less traveled by, but where there are promises to keep, and many paths and errands meet, and I avoid the timelines of white powders which may seem lovely, dark and deep, but are where withering souls go to creep. From "Friends don’t let Friends Incarnate in the Babylon Matrix"
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