(a foreign scientist's voice)
"Or,
(B in the S is a D as B in S since the S is E: a pattern "I" x S relations) and (S from T only by "P" space). This (R is not a R of E difficulty), instead it is a B to the C of the H-condition x "P". (S of T for D "things"). T is/as/was experimentally "M" becoming "I". (R of all I realities or I is "S"). "T", the non-r of V continuity C, gives N-values to O-symbols and O-directions to I and "C" with "L" and "N". (W-draw, H-lessness, D-function). "From 'T' outside 'I' can't 'S' anything". (N-windows, T-fatigue). T want S-1 to "S" me in the "H" while I'm Oring about M-self in 3rd-person in or "der:" 2-p that R is "Non-L". "E" as "C", and "S" for its "N"."
(A pedantic voice)
"Or,
Humans domesticate other "animals" in order to displace self-consciousness; that is, to reinforce their collective ability not to perceive their own domestication. That they are toilet trained like dogs and cats, who they "civilize" in order to re-resent the forms of their constructed reality. A reality with no master except every master, and which is elaborated as power without a goal. Surely animals (that is, ourselves) are better off indoors. In fact, there is no internal force, no soul, no reason: domestication can be infinite or not at all, since there is no separate human condition to limit it, only the projection of continuity on meaningless history, almost pacifying our fears of the future. But things could get much, much worse. Who domesticates us? For thousands of years, non-material entities: Gods, demons, principles, traditions, abstraction, and now as ever the "collective" goods, economic imperatives, glamour. They are not projections of "mass-consciousness", they are a separate and valued species which relates to us as we relate to our pets, having the same pathological quasi-concern for our well-being. We perceive them as elements of a "natural order" the same way that a dog or cat perceives the "master" as a powerful and arbitrary aspect of its environment, an intrnsic and abstracted paret of domestic reality."
(this is my "pet" theory)
(A wistful voice)
"Or, boxing the soap is a death (as brain hemorrhage) in sleep, since silence is exterior to it, the box: a pattern. Iced by sugary relations, and sinking from tires only by a puncture, a space. This road is not a road of elsewhere,decompressed. Instead, it is the "gas station", surrounded by a bruise, a cunt of the hemorrhoid condition. By penetration, a semblance of tautology for disntegrating things, the "clean sheets" or "streets" of the mind. Perhaps auto-penetration?