#Auditory Perception and Consciousness

[omegaphilosophia]

The Philosophy of the Ears

The philosophy of the ears examines the role of hearing and sound in human experience, perception, and understanding. It explores the auditory sense as a way of engaging with the world, particularly in relation to communication, music, language, and consciousness. The ears, as the organs of hearing, play a critical role not only in sensory perception but also in how we understand time, space, and meaning.

Key Themes in the Philosophy of the Ears:

Auditory Perception and Reality:

Hearing provides a unique way of perceiving the world, distinct from vision or touch. Sound is temporal and dynamic, and the philosophy of hearing explores how this shapes our experience of time, movement, and change.

Unlike sight, which is oriented around spatial dimensions, hearing is immersive, with sound surrounding us. This leads to philosophical questions about how sound contributes to our sense of place, environment, and presence in the world.

Hearing and Language:

The ears are crucial for understanding language. Spoken language depends on the ability to hear, and through hearing, we comprehend meaning, tone, and context.

Philosophers of language have explored how sound influences the structure of communication, including the emotional, symbolic, and practical aspects of spoken words. Ludwig Wittgenstein, for example, explored how meaning is conveyed through the sounds of language, while J.L. Austin focused on how spoken utterances perform actions in the world.

Music and Aesthetic Experience:

The philosophy of the ears is deeply connected to the philosophy of music. Music, as an auditory art form, engages the ears in profound ways, evoking emotion, memory, and reflection.

Philosophers such as Schopenhauer and Nietzsche have examined music as a form of non-linguistic expression that communicates deep truths about existence and human emotion, offering an aesthetic experience that is uniquely accessible through hearing.

Sound and Memory:

Hearing plays a key role in memory. Sounds can evoke strong emotional responses and memories, often more intensely than visual stimuli. Familiar sounds, such as a loved one’s voice or a piece of music, can trigger recollections, suggesting that auditory experiences are deeply tied to personal and collective memory.

This ties into phenomenology, where the experience of hearing is explored as part of how we relate to and recall the past, shaping our understanding of identity and lived experience.

Hearing and Consciousness:

The experience of hearing is closely tied to consciousness. Sound can shift our awareness and attention, sometimes affecting our emotions and thoughts on a subconscious level.

The phenomenology of hearing looks at how auditory experiences contribute to the flow of consciousness. Sound is immediate and often cannot be ignored, meaning it can shape attention and awareness in ways that other senses do not.

Sound, Silence, and Meditation:

Silence is as important as sound in the philosophy of the ears. Philosophers like John Cage have explored the relationship between sound and silence, emphasizing how silence is not merely the absence of sound but a space for reflection and deeper awareness.

In Buddhism and Zen, the practice of deep listening and silence is often used in meditation to focus the mind and cultivate inner peace. Hearing becomes a means of connecting to the present moment, highlighting the ear’s role in spiritual and contemplative practices.

Hearing and the Ethical Dimension:

Hearing has an ethical dimension, particularly in the context of listening. To truly listen to someone involves not just the mechanical process of hearing sounds but being open to understanding and empathizing with the speaker.

Emmanuel Levinas argued that ethical responsibility involves "listening" to the Other—being receptive to their needs, suffering, and presence. The ears are thus not just passive receivers but active participants in interpersonal ethics and moral responsibility.

Hearing and Social Interaction:

Hearing plays a fundamental role in social interactions. The act of listening is essential to communication, collaboration, and understanding within societies. The ear is the organ that allows us to engage with others, participate in dialogue, and form communities.

In this sense, the ears are key to the philosophy of communication, where listening is as important as speaking. Martin Buber's philosophy of dialogue emphasizes the importance of genuine listening in establishing meaningful relationships between individuals.

Ears and the Body-Mind Connection:

The ears serve as a gateway to both intellectual and emotional experiences, illustrating the connection between body and mind. Auditory stimuli can provoke both cognitive processing and visceral emotional reactions, reinforcing the idea that the mind and body are interconnected through sensory perception.

Embodied cognition theories suggest that hearing influences not just our mental states but also our physical interactions with the world, shaping how we navigate and interpret our environment.

Hearing and Power:

Hearing can be associated with issues of power and control, especially in the context of surveillance and modern technology. Sounds can be used to influence or manipulate, whether through propaganda, advertising, or sonic warfare, raising ethical questions about the role of auditory perception in power dynamics.

The politics of hearing also involve issues of accessibility, as people with hearing impairments may experience the world differently, leading to discussions on the societal importance of hearing and the right to access information and communication.

The philosophy of the ears emphasizes the importance of hearing in shaping our perceptions, experiences, and interactions with the world. Hearing is not just a sensory process but a way of engaging with time, language, music, ethics, and consciousness. Whether through the experience of sound, silence, or listening to others, the ears connect us deeply to both the external world and our inner lives.

[sluttish-armchair]

I swear to god “Gelatinous” is fucking possessed. Some days it sounds completely normal, and then all of a sudden it starts sounding detuned — like the pitch is warping down and glitching (in ways it isn’t supposed to) — right in the middle of listening to it and it gets creepier and creepier with each subsequent listen. But if I take a long pause from the song before listening to it again, it goes back to normal. It never distorts when I’m waiting for it to distort; it only does it when I’m not prepared for it.

It could be a sensory processing thing (I have some auditory stuff ~going on~ but uh… I’ve never experienced anything quite like this before.) If I listen to it enough I begin to feel as if I’m getting high and literally turning gelatinous myself. What the fuck.

[empyrealoasis]

˖ ִ𐙚 Holotropic Breathwork + Hypnagogic Hallucinations 𝜗࣪˖

HOLOTROPIC BREATHWORK

"Holotropic Breathwork is a therapeutic breathing technique that uses rapid, controlled breathing and music to create an altered state of consciousness."

The process bypasses your analytical mind and taps into the subconscious, often bringing up suppressed emotions, vivid imagery, or even spiritual insights. It’s often used for self-discovery, emotional healing, and connecting more deeply with your inner self.

HYPNAGOGIC + HYPNOPOMPIC HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnagogia and Hypnopompia are transitional states of consciousness that occur during the process of falling asleep and waking up, respectively.

Hypnagogia is experienced as you are falling asleep. It often happens when you’re extremely tired or sleep-deprived, such as after staying up late or napping during the day. In this state, you may not fully fall asleep but instead enter a semi-conscious phase. During hypnagogia, people can feel as though they’re “dreaming while awake.”

Hypnopompia, on the other hand, happens as you are waking up. You might not fully regain consciousness and instead linger in a dream-like state. In this phase, you may feel as though you are simultaneously awake and dreaming, struggling to differentiate between the two. Similarly, people can feel as though they're "awake while dreaming."

These may involve visual, auditory, or tactile hallucinations, and sometimes even a sensation similar to sleep paralysis. Both phenomena occur because the brain is transitioning between wakefulness and sleep, creating a blend of conscious awareness and dream-like perceptions. While they can feel disorienting, these experiences are a natural part of how our brain processes the sleep cycle.

Routine combining both methods:

Step 1: Get Comfortable

Lie down (preferably) in a quiet, dimly lit space where you won’t be disturbed.

Close your eyes and relax your body.

Step 2: Breathwork to Relax (2-5 minutes)

Breathe in deeply through your nose for 2 seconds.

Exhale out through your mouth with a gentle "ha" sound.

Repeat this rhythm, focusing on how your body feels lighter and more relaxed with each breath.

Step 3: Focus on the Darkness

Let your breathing return to normal.

Shift your attention to the darkness behind your eyelids.

If you see shapes, colors, or feel sensations, let them happen naturally.

Step 4: Affirm and Intend

Silently or softly affirm your intention:

“I am pure consciousness.”

“I am shifting now.”

Stay calm and trust the process as you drift deeper into the void or shifting state.

Step 5: Let Go

Allow yourself to fully relax, knowing that you’re transitioning.

If you feel close to the void or shifting, focus on staying calm and open.

Holotropic Breathing Posts:

Hypnagogic + Hypnopompic Hallucinations Posts:

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Psychology

more psychological concepts as reference for your poem/story

Telepathic dream - a dream in which one appears to gain insight or information about a person or event despite not having access to the relevant information in waking life; described by Sigmund Freud.

Thought echoing - (or écho des pensées) an auditory hallucination in which an individual hears their own thoughts repeated in spoken form.

Trait rumination - a tendency to focus attention on negative thoughts and emotions, which is associated with longer and more severe episodes of depression or anxiety.

Twilight state - a state of clouded consciousness in which the individual is temporarily unaware of their surroundings, experiences fleeting auditory or visual hallucinations, and responds to them by performing irrational acts, such as undressing in public, running away, or committing violence. The disturbance occurs primarily in temporal lobe epilepsy, dissociative reactions, and alcohol intoxication. On regaining normal consciousness, individuals usually report that they felt they were dreaming and have little or no recollection of their actual behavior.

Universality of emotions - the finding that certain emotional expressions, appraisals, and manifestations are the same or highly similar across cultures and societies.

Waking dream - an episode of dreamlike visual imagery experienced when one is not asleep. The term is sometimes applied to hallucinations, religious visions, and the like.

Windmill illusion - an illusion of motion of rotating objects, such as windmills and automobile wheels, which appear to reverse direction intermittently.

Xenoglossy - in parapsychology, the ostensible ability of a person to speak or write in a language that is entirely unknown to them.

Yantra - a visual pattern on which attention is focused during concentrative meditation.

Zeigarnik effect - the tendency for interrupted, uncompleted tasks to be better remembered than completed tasks. Some theorists relate this phenomenon to certain gestalt principles of organization but at the level of higher mental processing (e.g., memory), rather than at the level of pure perception; described in 1927 by Bluma Zeigarnik.

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Part 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[the-most-humble-blog]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta consciousness-integrity="corrupted"> <script>ARCHIVE_TAG="REALITY_FAILURE::PERCEPTUAL_LOOP_COLLAPSE" EFFECT: derealization, sleep-anomaly recall, metaphysical panic </script>

🧠 BLACKSITE SCROLLTRAP — “SORRY TO BE A BUZZKILL… BUT WHAT IF YOU DON’T EXIST?”

===

Sorry to be a buzzkill again. But you know me. Mr. Humble doesn’t show up to rub your tummy. I show up to slice through your delusions like they owe me rent.

And today’s delusion?

“Of course I exist.” “Of course this is real.” “Of course this isn’t just a dream that’s outlived the sleeper.”

Yeah? Prove it.

—

Here’s the thing:

This world doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t exist. Not like this. Not with these constants. Not with this precision.

Do you understand the probability of YOU even having a working cell membrane based on the atomic conditions required?

And yet— you eat pizza rolls and doomscroll through algorithms like any of this is normal.

What if I told you this wasn’t real?

Not in the Hollywood "we’re in a computer" kind of way. But in the you might just be a memory living through its own echo without knowing it’s over kind of way.

—

What if you’re just… a past self, replaying itself. A loop. A snapshot of a soul. Running the tape back with perfect illusion that it’s all happening now.

You wouldn’t know. Because the loop contains all your memories.

—

“Preposterous,” you say? “I think, therefore I am,” you say?

Your brain can’t even comprehend true eternity.

Tell me what happened before the first Big Bang. Now tell me what triggered it. Now tell me how many came before that.

Now tell me what came before that.

See? You don’t know. You assume. You build certainty atop vapor and call it science.

But you can’t even stay awake for five days without descending into hallucinated hell.

--

📉 STAT: Sleep deprivation causes visual and auditory hallucinations within 72-120 hours.

📉 Another STAT: Subjects deprived of sleep begin confusing dream logic with waking cognition.

📉 Another Fcking Creepy STAT: Witnesses in close proximity to the sleep-deprived sometimes report shared delusions.

--

Yeah. Let that part marinate.

Imagine seeing "things" and hearing voices just by being in close proximity to that person.

There are actually people who’ve claimed to have stayed awake long enough to break the lock on this plane of perception.

And when they did?

Others around them saw it too. External to them. Realer than dreams. Louder than reason.

—

So what if this isn’t “your life”? What if this is just the last thing you saw before you ceased to be?

And your brain’s just looping on the ride out. Endlessly. Forever. Believing it’s linear. Believing it’s new.

But it’s not. It’s a cassette tape in a godless VCR stuck on repeat.

—

You think your memories mean this is real? That just makes it a better simulation.

You think other people validate your sentience? You can’t even prove anyone else is conscious. All you can do is hope they’re not just projections designed to hold your delusion together.

NPCs that glitch in just enough nuance to seem alive but never go deeper than the script allows.

Ever try to REALLY wake someone up in a dream? They look scared. Or blurry. Or they disappear.

—

So… what if this is that dream? The one where your “reality” is scripted, pre-loaded, and ready-made the moment you look for it.

What if the moon only exists when you think about it?

What if your dog has no soul but your memory of him keeps him real?

What if you’re not moving forward but instead falling backward through every version of yourself you’ve ever believed in?

—

You wouldn’t know. Because the illusion is complete. It has your memories. Your traumas. Your dreams.

But all of it? Could’ve been injected. A second ago. Last week. Last eternity.

You say you were born?

Who told you that? Your mom? How do you know she’s not part of the set?

You say you slept last night?

How do you know that wasn’t the real world and THIS is the dream you haven’t woken from?

You say “of course I’m real”?

Then why do you panic when it gets too quiet? Why does 3:17 AM feel like a haunted mirror?

Why can’t you remember what it felt like to be born?

Why are you so scared of being alone with no notifications no updates no attention?

Because if this falls apart, so do you.

—

Anyway.

Have a good night. Sleep tight. And if you wake up tomorrow with no memory of this post— or too much memory of it— then maybe just maybe

You already existed… long enough to forget that you didn’t.

🧠 Read more respect-coded doctrine and emotional architecture at: 👉 https://www.patreon.com/TheMostHumble 🛡️ Masculine polarity. Scrolltrap psychology. Unforgiven words. 🚪 Warning: This post has disrupted timelines, interrupted dreams, and triggered silent breakdowns at 2:43 AM.

</div> <!-- END TRANSMISSION [YOU NEVER WOKE UP. THIS IS THE LOOP.] -->

[creforage]

𝐢. Six appendages.

𓄿: tags/notes . . . obey me, gn reader as per canon, can be considered a little as body horror on the side, mostly Michael centred.

𖤛 synopsis . . . | after your death in unforeseen circumstances, you are reborned in the celestial realm as one of their own. But are you?

You wake up with an unfamiliar body.

Feathers. So many of them you spotted, at every angle your head turned to. Everything felt sore —like the layers of your skin had been forcibly ripped, and folded into something entirely different in the gentlest, cruelest of ways.

This is not who I am, you thought to yourself, as you sat up with grievous struggle. Your back feels so, so heavy, as if something is dragging it down even further. The very implications set your heartbeat into a fiery, terror fit. Yet, silent you remain, as you take in your surroundings.

Light surrounds you. Engulfes and encompasses all that you were and will be. You can understand that you're laying atop the softest bed you've ever felt, and it's quite a spacious room —gold and glistening curtains blinding your eyes.

Oh, speaking of eyes. They feel different now. Claustrophobic, in an unexplainable way; you can see everything without having to focus your pupils into a specific area. The amount of details you're processing sets your comprehension into a distress in itself. You clear your throat.

Something is shifting impossibly close to your hearing —which also feel frustratingly sensitive — and your auditory senses quickly conclude; it's not on you, around you, or outside of you, belonging to another.

The noise is within you. It belongs to you, you're the producer and its host. Your breath hitches and so does your body, entirely, it heightens the ruffled, soft noise —oh… it's caressing your eyes and arms.

You dare not look down or behind. You dare not touch yourself. In fact, as you finally bring yourself to your feet and push yourself towards the windowsill, your consciousness forbids you from even processing what you see on its reflection.

You no longer possess pupils to lull them to the side of protection. Illusioning yourself is feeble, after all; every twitch of the protruding, stunningly gentle shift of the appendages around both sides of your ears and back are demanding to be acknowledged, one way or another. (Now you understand what was so heavy on your back. The dead weight cascading along your tailbone and dragging across the floor like a thousand corpses. You just didn't want to face it yet.)

You don't even acknowledge it. Rather, you look outside.

You're in the Celestial realm. Unsurprising to no one, really. It's always so bright there. How do they even live that way, always in the light? Do they not tire of it? Your personal musings aside, you're forced to double away from the beautiful visage as a sharp pang of pain hits all across your body again. It's been like this since you woke up, or, more so —in your state of limbo. You felt it, faintly then, full-force, now.

You could only describe it as your own cells and muscle tissues rearranging themselves. They keep shifting, patching onto another, pulling each other apart and reproducing its essentials to what they now declare a state of perfection.

Ah, also, someone has been incessantly calling your name this entire time. A little after you woke up and walked over.. … .. It's familiar.

“[Name],” it says, again and again. Something shuffles from behind. Your perception takes into account another being, probably of belonging here. (Unlike you.) “How do you feel?”

“Michael,” you say, just barely. Your voice is different, but not as much as the rest of you, thankfully. You lean away from the window and, in a fatigued state, call out the intruder's name once more, just for the sake of familiarity. For a shred of comfort. “Michael.”

He's been smiling this entire time, but it widens even further upon hearing your voice. “Hello. You recognized me fairly quickly… I have to wonder, how come? But, ah..” He takes you by the arm, gently, and leads your astray form to sit back down on the edge of the well plushed bed. “No matter. Your well-being is more important right now. Now tell me, how do you feel? Are you aware of where you currently are?”

“Celestial.” You say, but the words come out more of a breath than an answer. Your brain spins. Try to finish your sentence. “Realm. In the celestial realm.”

“Good, good. Your name?”

“.............”

“Do you remember your name? I just used it earlier, if that helps.”

You half hum, then startle yourself. You're still not used to the different timbre in your voice. “I remember.”

He hasn't taken his eyes off of you for a moment. More precisely, what's folded into themselves on your back and such. He lifts a hand to gingerly brush an index finger along the ridges of troubled feathers, and you flinch away from the touch enough for his eyes to widen. He retracts his hand and sighs quietly in what sounds like concern, if you're desperate enough for sympathy.

“This process is quite different with who were inherently born into a respective role here.” He says to your keenly listening ears. “We're all Father's children, and such were we raised, despite its complications and risk. The better we understood and developed, the stronger and efficiently were we molded into Father's image eventually. Take Luke for example. He's been ‘living’ for a time that would normally preceed any regular human, but he's still a child. He hasn't grown out his wings in a result of it, as I'm sure you know by now.”

You nod faintly. He continues. “Which is why, [Name], this not only differs from our Father's sacred custom, but your soul and importance have been enough to be amongst us. You weren't initially born into who you are now, [Name], that's why you are in immense pain as of yet.”

“I never,” you croak out through the rearing pain that digs its heels into every open nerve within you. “asked, for this —”

He stands up suddenly. Smoothes down his robes and turns back to you. “For your own sake, [Name], I'll plead you to not finish that sentence. You're in enough pain as is,” he gets on his knees —Michael the Archangel himself, hands on your shoulders. They're warm, a contrast against you, which confuses you —because angels would normally emit warmth — but oh, but ah, you're a little something entirely different, aren't you?

“Rest.” he ushers you onto your back. You wince and bring your hands against your chest reflexively —seems some senses stay rooted within, even as another, huh? “You'll be accustomed to it soon enough, as will the pain cease. Don't think too hard on it for now, alright?”

You'd expect him to leave by now, but he sits by your side instead, his weight dipping the bed sheets considerably. You're aware of his eyes staring at your face. You don't sense any ill intent. They're low lidded, softer than you might have ever imagined. “You probably would've preferred to have Simeon here to take care of you, wouldn't you?”

The mention of his mere name jolts a reaction out of you. You remember Michael words again. Don't think too hard now. If you start to think further, your body will only punish you for it.

“He would do a better job of it, I'm sure.” He mumbles, and you don't quite like the way he allows his hands to so simply run against your cheek, up, and down again. He pauses. “A shame he's no longer allowed here after his treachery, isn't it?”

You don't answer, because there would absolutely be no point in neither wasting your breath, nor getting into verbal sparring with someone like him. He resumes his semi-petting. You don't like the fact that it's actually proving to be calming your torched nerves and aching flesh. Perhaps it's his angelic properties playing part. Or perhaps he's just genuine. Is it that hard to believe, [Name]?

“I don't know why I'm still speaking to you, or why I'm here,” he says. “I think I've been lonely without anyone to speak to for an agonizingly long while, since the brothers and Simeon —even Luke, and Raphael have departed from our sacred palace. Yes, yes… . I've been lonely.”

You close your eyes, and realize that is about as much freedom as you'll ever be able to afford now. Now, you don't have to bear witness the look in his eyes. The light pouring into the room and chaining its promise around your ankles.

[outofangband]

Elves and synesthesia thoughts part one (updated)

I mentioned this in my list of speculative biology ideas for elves here!

Synesthesia is a neurological phenomena where two or more senses are combined causing an overlap in sensory stimuli. For example, a person with auditory to visual synesthesia, also known as chromesthesia might see colors when hearing sounds. These stimuli are automatic, involuntary, consistent over time, and simple; seeing red when hearing a chair moved, smelling spices when touching fabric, or even seeing number lines visualized as three dimensional shapes. 

I have synesthesia myself and find it really fun for world building

I have a lot of thoughts on elves and senses including synesthesia. I think most stimuli and input for elves is experienced through multiple senses for example being able to feel sound (obviously humans can through vibrations but some elves are more attuned to this). Synesthesia of the kind humans experience is more common in elves and other kinds unique to them also exist.

-Most elves experience some form of synesthesia though most do not experience all forms and most have some control over how much they consciously process. I talked about this year when I talked about the additional signs of sensing growth and change in the environment but I believe they more control than humans over how they process this sensory information. Especially because they experience it more strongly than humans seem too it makes sense that they would have control over this processing, at least in most cases.

-Mirror touch synesthesia, a rare form in humans, is experienced by many elves. This is phenomena where experiences sensations that one witnesses, for example, feeling a pain in one’s head seeing someone’s truck there. This can be extremely distressing to humans experiencing it, unlike other forms of synesthesia. For elves, this is such a common experience it doesn’t register as particularly distressing, except for an extreme cases, and for those unable to have any control over how they process this information. Most do not experience extreme pain, even witnessing severe injuries.

-Just like with humans, it appears frequently in their art. A lot of abstract art and music is inspired by synesthesia! Especially among the Noldor where there is more specific study of the phenomenon including Noldorin scientists who spend their lives charting what color twelve thousand different people see the number eight, the letter for the eh sound, the feeling of a stinging cut, etc

-For those with particularly strong bonds, Óswane can be communicated through synesthesia, that is, emotions, intentions, etc being shared through color, shape, or even taste, physical sensations

-synesthesia for many elves will not process fully during severe depression or lack of movement. Oppressive environments like Angband will often effect the senses in a variety of ways (some discussed here!) including synesthetic perception. A small number of elves in Angband lose this phenomenon completely. Some temporary, others permanently. This is due to a variety of external and environmental factors.

-Just a general sensory thought in general though I will make a separate post for this I think. Sensory games and building exercises are common across elven cultures. Games involving the identification and sorting of items solely by one sense without the use of any of the others are common among the Noldor and Vanyar. Sindar children in Doriath will learn to travel to certain locations by the sounds of the forest and the feeling under their feet alone.

[coolearistrashcollection]

Chapter One: A Ghost from the Past

Characters: cult leader!Geto, cursed spirit!Reader TW: isolation

part 1 (prologue) here, next part (3) here!

--------------------------------------------------------------

See. 

There are no objects, no features to provide orientation or break the monotony of the vast, uncharted emptiness. There is nothing surrounding you, complete emptiness. Nothing, no objects surrounding you. The space that surrounds you is an unbroken expanse of absolute emptiness, an infinite canvas devoid of form or substance. It is as though you are suspended in a boundless void, where the very concept of matter seems to have dissolved. The ambiance you find yourself in is neither black nor white– there are no colours here, no gradients of light or shadow. The atmosphere desperately wants to be something –anything– and fails to do so, boring your eyesight for eternity. It remains stubbornly abstract, this relentless lack of definition, has no hint of shape or pattern. This prison will forever bore your perception, rendering it numb and disoriented.

Touch. 

Your silk robe was once a soft caress on your skin, smooth, luxurious, delicate, yet with time they resulted to feel like sandpaper. As a result, your skin is overly sensitive and raw from the constant abrasion, left in a state of perpetual discomfort. The robe was once a symbol of opulence and comfort which currently feels like a cruel irony. Irritated, overstimulated, every gentle brush of the silk against your skin feels like a grating scrape, an unending assault on your nerves. The repetitive friction is maddening, a cruel paradox forced on you, where something once so intimately comforting has become a source of ceaseless agitation. 

Taste.

At first, saliva has no taste. Slowly, you hallucinate that it does have a taste, probably due to your mouth being dry. This taste, if it can even be called that, seems to materialise purely out of the deprivation of your senses. It is a taste that defies description, perhaps born from the emptiness of your environment rather than any actual flavour. Then, after centuries, you start noticing every time you swallow. The once-unremarkable act of swallowing begins to assert itself with an unsettling presence. Your tongue begins to assert its own significance in a disquieting manner. Once a largely unnoticed organ, it became a constant presence in your mind. You can feel it resting against the roof of your mouth, lightly touching your teeth. This once-ordinary sensation now feels exaggerated, an intrusive reminder of its own existence. The tongue took on a disquieting role, with its purpose to keep you perpetually aware of its position—a constant, uncomfortable thought that intrudes upon your otherwise vacant consciousness.

Smell.

Scents of flowers were a distant memory. At this time, the very concept of fragrances and aromas seem alien, a distant reminiscence that no longer holds any meaning. The camellias, plum blossoms and lilies that once brought such joy, relegated to recollections, their essence lost in the chasm of your current existence. Slowly, you forget how many things smelled, slipping through your grasp like wisps of smoke.

Listen.

The horrible sound of the void, which has caused your ears to beg –almost scream– for a ring or a chime. The horrific stillness of this place has left your ears yearning for any sort of sound—a distant ring, a faint chime, anything to break the relentless monotony of the silence. The contrast between what you wished for and what you now endure is stark and painful: the once-desired quiet is a form of torture, even greater torment. The silence is almost sentient, aware of your suffering and savouring every moment of it. Your mind, starved for auditory stimuli, clings desperately to the memories of sounds you took for granted. The faint echo of birdsong, people talking, the hiss of a fireplace. It is as if your brain is etched with an indelible craving for those sounds, a yearning so intense that it overshadows your persistent buzz of tinnitus. 

Suddenly, you heard a crack. Looking around, you also can see it. The crack, thin and jagged, cuts through the nothingness with an undeniable presence. Its edges are uneven like a flaw in a vast void. The very presence of this crack is jarring, a visual aberration in a space where nothing had ever shifted or moved. The contrast between it and the surroundings is sharp, the dark lines slicing through the uniform emptiness with violent clarity. Closely, you can see how it affects the limbo itself. The surrounding space, which had previously seemed to stretch into infinity without deviation, now shows signs of deterioration. It ripples and wraps around the fissure revealing glimpses of instability.

And then, there was motivation. 

You extend your arm into the rift to nudge it, causing it to expand. Its jagged lines grow longer and more erratic. Your prison is beginning to show signs of wear. This means that the strength of the seal became obsolete with time. It was finally compromised. Perhaps it was your time to leave this prison: you forgot why you were there in the first place, but you wanted revenge on the person who locked you away. A nudge became a push, which then became a shove; and without any notice, you could use your senses again. The seal broke, you were free. 

Well, almost free. You feel the presence of two strong sorcerers approaching the forest. No, it is your forest, your territory. However, your fight or flight reflex decides to go for the window, after all, you are still recovering from being dormant for so long. Something takes over you, a trance, a hidden memory that tells you exactly where to flee for safety. Not far away was a peaceful mount. Now it is called Mount Wakakusa, but you remember it wasn't always like that.

The view from the mountaintop changed too: the charming village of Nara became a touristic city, the plague of a new architecture, brutalism, infecting it. Groups of people feed the local deer and the lake fish, some pointing a strange object at the people posing. Watching people from above gives everyone a sense of power: the bird's eye view from the mountaintop makes you essentially omnipresent, you can observe even the smallest of details this way; one of those, two people, a white dot and a black dot walking side by side, leaving the forest and going into the city. Their cursed energy is different from the rest of the people, that's when you realise, they are sorcerers, and they are looking for you. Hunting you, and probably meeting with other sorcerers to warn about your escape. 

You need a plan. And fast. You would not stand a chance against many sorcerers in your current state.

“I need to learn the city and make a map.” So you observe. Some people might find staying in the same spot for hours boring, but you’re used to that anyway. This time it was not a prison, but survival, you could not afford to stop watching like a hawk. Night time arrives in a swift motion and you watch attentively how the city changes, and with curiosity, decide to investigate it.

As you step into the city you find yourself confused. The once-familiar landscape is now adorned with artificial stone-like masses that resemble cuboids, their surfaces glowing in a spectrum of colours through expansive sheets of glass. These structures illuminate the night with a vivid array of hues, creating an almost surreal ambiance that is both captivating and extremely foreign. Modern buildings stand in comparison to the few remaining traditional houses, which retain their historical charm with their black roof tiles and white exterior walls. 

Wandering through the streets, you encounter an array of metal beams and thick cables crisscrossing above you, their presence an intriguing feature of this new era's architecture. The once-dominant wooden structures and pagodas are overshadowed by these sleek, industrial elements, which seem to define the city's current skyline. It paints a vivid picture of a city that has transformed over time while still holding onto its glorious past. Nara now represents an intersection of history and the present whilst offering a unique glimpse into how an ancient culture has adapted to the demands of the present era.

Another noticeable change is the way people dress. The elegant robes and overskirts that once characterised traditional attire have been replaced by a new form of clothing. The “hakama” are now referred to as “trousers” and appear to be unusually tight. Indigo became accessible too, blue colours adorn people’s outfits. However, trousers are now paired with a simple upper garment, its name being a “T-Shirt”. You see that these modern garments have a practical appearance, clothes are no longer elaborate and layered.

Through the shops you see a stack of paper, in fact, it was a pile of stacks of paper. Was paper now a commodity? It is much thinner than what you remember, too. Fascinating how much these pathetic humans have advanced. That’s when you see the date in the newspaper: 3rd of February, 2006. Roughly 1300 years have passed since you were sealed. 

Your body relaxed, it started to settle that you are free. “Tengen…” The name rolled off your tongue, feeling bitter quickly after. Was that the person who sealed you? You could feel rage fuelling your brain, the urge to kill starting to creep up. But you know you can't kill a person that easily, that will surely put a target on your back, and they already were trying to find you. Moreover, this would leave significant remnants of your cursed energy, more than enough to track you easily. Causing a scene would surely result in a death sentence.

So instead, you decide to find an alleyway infested with smaller curses. It is pathetic how your species devolved, curses were once powerful forces to be reckoned with. A simple touch of your hand makes them explode instantly and a giggle leaves your lips. Maybe that’s why sorcerers keep hunting curses, these deaths are funny, deserved even. Those lowly beings give you a bad reputation in some way, you had to be sealed, unlike these. As you keep exterminating them, you feel your strength replenishing. 

Your mind goes to the two sorcerers from earlier. “If I were to kill them, then I’ll probably regain all my strength back…” After all, their energy was unmatched. Once you got all your strength then you could challenge Tengen… or at least find more sorcerers to punish as revenge. 

Oh, right. The plan. You almost forgot about the plan. Using an old newspaper and a pen would be a great way to record the city, or at least draw what you think will be important for later. Plus, a benefit of being a curse is that no one can see you, so you can go to restricted areas like sewers. A map of the sewers could also be useful to set up traps– no, focus. First the city, then the sewers if you have time, and exterminate small curses in the meantime. You’re sure the sorcerers will be back tomorrow, and you will also need a new hiding spot.

[lyssophobiaa]

Misc. Design Notes and Ideas; Piers Nivans

Synchronization Between Prosthesis and Senses

Augmented Reflexes: His bionic arm could have a feedback system connected to his heightened senses, allowing it to respond to auditory or visual cues faster than he can consciously react. For instance, if he hears a sudden change in someone’s heartbeat behind him (indicating they’re approaching or tensing up), his arm could twitch or adjust as if ready to defend or counter.

Haptic Feedback in the Arm: The prosthesis could have sensors that translate environmental data into subtle vibrations or pressure signals, which Piers can feel. For example, in low-light or when he’s using his thermal vision, his arm might subtly vibrate in response to nearby heat sources, giving him a “sixth sense” of people around him without needing to look.

Sensory Overload Thresholds and Control Mechanism

Virus-Triggered Sensory Intensity: When the Virus exerts more control, his senses might intensify to the point where every heartbeat, heat signature, or movement becomes sharply defined and almost overwhelming. This state would enhance his perception but at the cost of mental strain, making it harder for him to focus or maintain rational thought.

Adaptive Mutation in His Arm

Augmented Physical Connection: The prosthetic side of his arm might integrate more closely with the mutating side over time. This would create a unique “fusion” effect where the prosthetic adapts, mirroring changes in the mutation, like absorbing textures or contours that appear on his mutated tissue. This would blur the line between machine and biology even further, reflecting his struggle to retain his humanity.

Predator-Like Instinct Mode

Automatic Threat Detection: If his hearing detects an elevated heartbeat or his eye picks up sudden movement, it could trigger an “instinct mode” where his sensory focus shifts fully onto the target—heightening his reaction time and awareness of that individual’s actions. This would make him hyper-focused on potential threats, though it risks distracting him from other surroundings.

Animalistic Responses to Stress: When the Virus exerts control, Piers’ responses could become more instinctual. For instance, if his mutated eye detects an unexpected heat signature, his body might involuntarily tense, his senses heighten, and his arm adopt a defensive posture. He might also develop reflexes that resemble predatory behavior, like tracking movement without moving his head.

Tags: (Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!) @astertaster @fonulyn @theyproblyhadsomethingtodowithit @mangoflavouredkisses @mmosscatmoss @essanocollagen @menacing-manicotti @sxnicgoesfast

[itsyaboyeric]

Late Night Radical-Constructivist Rambling

I believe in a few 'radical' (read: not popular) ideas regarding the self, the nature of being, reality, and consciousness. One such idea I hold in high regard is that reality is constructed by the senses, but what does that actually mean? What, in abstract, am I really getting at? Am I saying that we make up reality as we go along and that everything is fake? No, not quite.

(cont.)

To elaborate in a semi-reductive way: imagine the brain and its functions while putting a pin in the above text. In my view, the brain acts as a reality interpreter.

Think of your eyes and vision. You might say, "I can confirm with someone else that we're seeing the same thing." (i.e; a 'red' apple)

And that's true, relatively speaking. You and an outside observer can correspond and compare truths to reach a shared truth: we both perceive the apple as being red. (This concept, generally, is known as the correspondence theory of truth)

But what happens when you look at an optical illusion? Let's say that you're on your phone and see a post regarding a dress that asks what color(s) the dress is: black and blue or gold and white?

My friend might say the dress is blue and black whilst at the same time I perceive it and whole heartedly believe that it's gold and white. Some of the more clever among you might respond to this by saying we can check the hexadecimal color value(s) of the image, which is true. But consider that hexadecimal color is based upon the visible spectrum of light that we (you, I, others) are able to perceive. Is someone who is wholly colorblind wrong if they point out that the dress is actually gray and black? Because they can't perceive the same colors that you and I can?

"Yes!" I can hear the contrarians among you say. Well, alright, let's play that game.

Hypothetically, what if everyone were varying levels of colorblind, and only you and a minuscule percentage of people could see the light spectrum that non-colorblind people can see?

What if they used your logic there and said, "Actually, a majority of people see that it's gray. If we check with hexadecimal color, we can see that it's #00FFFF; objectively extremely gray!"

I hope you see the problem here and where the correspondence theory of truth falls apart.

This line of reasoning is known as The Knowledge Argument, which is often synonymous in conversation with Mary's Room. You can read more about it here (link to Standford Encyclopedia of Philosophy).

Digressing back to my earlier point about the senses and how the brain constructs reality:

By empirical comparisons of this manner on this matter, we can come to realize that what we perceive is not how reality appears, but rather how it appears relative to us. (And our senses.)

Back to optical illusions: surely you've seen a few. Take for example The Checker Shadow illusion (Wikipedia link)

The two squares are the same color. Yes, your eyes and brain are fooling you. Why is this? Well, to put it simply, your brain (the aforementioned reality interpreter) unconsciously takes the qualia (the subjective experience/phenomenon of viewing the illusion) and fills in the gaps based upon contextual information available to you. Thus, resulting in your perception of the squares being different colors.

The brain does this constantly in our day to day lives. And it isn't limited to optical illusions. Olfactory, tactile, auditory, and gustatory illusions all exist. Getting a little spooky, isn't it?

So, we've arrived at a point where we can agree at a minimum that the brain constructs reality based upon our senses. But what about the truth? Before I open that can of worms, let me posit another question to you:

When you perceive daylight and your friend in Australia perceives nightlight, which one of you is correct? And which one of you is lying?

If you believe in an objective truth, then this question will stump you. You'll tell me that I'm being fallacious in my reasoning, but that's not the case. You're encountering a problem here where you're inducting objectivity onto a problem with no objective answer.

The truth in this case, and pertaining to the question, is both dynamic and relative. Your friend isn't lying, and neither of you are incorrect. The truth relative to you is that it's daytime. The truth relative to your friend in Australia is that it's nighttime. The truth is dynamic in that it will eventually shift; you will eventually experience nighttime after experiencing daytime, and your friend will experience daytime after nighttime. Neither of you will experience them at the same time unless one of you moves elsewhere to the same time zone.

Again, neither lying or incorrect.

This is the essence of what I'm getting at. Your reality and how you experience it is just as valid as any other person's, even if you have fundamental disagreements as to the nature of reality and your contrasting perceptions.

In closing: I believe that this posits many questions about the very nature of being and consciousness, and that the world as we experience it is not as black and white as various figures claim it to be. Your experience of the world is just as valid as anyone else's and vice versa.

"There are no facts, only interpretations" —Friedrich Nietzsche.

(If you made it this far, thank you very much for reading. Any and all feedback is appreciated! 🖤🦝)

[iheartjulessforlife]

MY POWERS IN MY CONJURING DR.

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am i making you feel sick ?

TELEKINESIS ✶ MAUREEN has the able to manipulate objects, people and matter with her mind. When amplified by her emotions, her telekinesis is strong enough to lift large and heavy objects.

TELEPATHY ✶ MAUREEN posses the psionic ability to read and control the minds and thoughts of humans, animals, and other inhumane beings, and to transfer information from one mind to another without the aid of physical communication (noise or movement).

PRECOGNITION ✶ MAUREEN can see the future , she has limited to predicting a chain of events and can see many different possible outcomes, gathering information and finding the best paths to take by going through many different possibilities.

CLAIRVOYANCE ✶ MAUREEN can be able to detect beings/entities normally completely undetectable, like spiritual and psychic beings.

CLAIRAUDIENCE ✶ MAUREEN can hear in a way that isn't connected to her physical senses, on distances beyond her normal ranges. she may be able to hear psychic/spiritual levels/beings. Furthermore, perceive voices from disembodied spirits and other extradimensional entities. In addition, she even psychically receive auditory sensations (earache, sudden heightened hearing volume or range, sudden deafness, ringing in the ears, etc), with the presence of psychic energy.

ASTRAL PROJECTION ✶ MAUREEN can project or separate her consciousness, presence or spirit, alternatively known as her astral form, from her material bodies, allowing for perception, interaction and travel independent of mental or physical limitation.

AUTOMATIC WRITING ✶ MAUREEN posses this allowing her to produce written words without consciously writing. She engage in automatic writing by holding a writing instrument and allowing alleged spirits to manipulate the her hand.

MEDIUMSHIP ✶ MAUREEN is spirit mediums, individuals that can perceive, communicate or otherwise interact with the souls/spirits of others. She can banish these entities from an area or summon souls/spirits that will defend them if they were ever to come to harm.

DEATH SENSE ✶ MAUREEN can sense the coming of death, determining when someone is dead or dying or if others have died in a specific location. This may extend to seeing the names and lifespans of those whose faces the she sees.

VOLUNTARY POSSESSION ✶ MAUREEN is able to allow herself to be possessed by other souls, spirits, or inhumane beings, allowing them to take control over her ability to speak and can speaks through her for how long and to what end they are possessed.

am i making you feel sick?

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[perdvivly]

Chalmers has relatively little to say on Jaynes other than that the ability to introspect does not encompass the varieties of conscious experience and so his account, whether accurate or not, cannot be a complete account. And in particular Chalmers has in mind that Jaynes makes no attempt to account for sensory perception, strongly favouring a linguistic view of conscious experience.

But *is* Jaynes’ view accurate for the linguistic aspects of introspective consciousness? It would be surprising if so, but I’ve been surprised before! I think Jaynes relies on the auditory too much. I wish Jaynes had more to say on non-auditory languages and the relevant hallucinations thereof.

Have there been studies on the manifestations of schizophrenia in people whose first language is a sign language?

[creature-studios]

Video Game: Minecraft (Scape and Run: Parasites Mod)

The Heed is an advanced parasitic organism that functions as an independent hunter, stalking infected zones in search of prey. Unlike the more hive-oriented creatures of the biome, it operates alone, guided by a twisted instinct rather than direct biome control.

Origins & Transformation

The Heed was once a collection of assimilated humans whose bodies were forcibly merged into a singular entity. Their heads, now grotesquely fused, serve as biological sensory organs, processing sound, movement, and vibrations.

Over time, their appearance distorts, their features stretched and warped into terrifying, expressionless faces. Their original voices have been replaced with guttural, alien murmurs, sometimes mimicking fragmented human speech.

The process of integration into the Heed is irreversible—the consciousness of each victim is completely erased.

Anatomy & Adaptive Traits

Size & Structure: Typically standing 8-9 feet tall at its highest point, the Heed moves with unsettling fluidity.

Head Cluster Function: The multiple heads act as sensory nodes, enhancing its ability to locate prey through auditory signals and biome vibrations.

Limbs & Mobility: Its spindly spider-like legs allow it to crawl over uneven terrain, scaling walls, ceilings, and submerged environments with ease.

Camouflage & Lurking: Its dark, sinewy body blends into the shadows, making detection difficult.

Behavior & Hunting Techniques

The Heed is a silent stalker, watching from a distance before moving in for the kill.

It never moves in a straight line, instead circling its prey, deliberately distorting the perception of space through erratic movements.

The closer it gets, the more the victim experiences The Call of the Hive Effect.

Underwater Ambush: If a target takes refuge in water, the Heed plunges beneath the surface and waits motionless, only striking when the victim least expects it.

Weaknesses & Limitations

Light Sensitivity: Bright, concentrated light disorients its multiple heads, causing temporary confusion.

Disruptive Frequencies: Certain ultra-low-frequency sounds disrupt its balance, briefly slowing its movements.

Overstimulation: If multiple loud signals flood its sensory heads, it may briefly lose coordination, its movements becoming frantic and unpredictable.

Fire: All parasites can be easily killed by fire.

[creepingwaves]

Is dancing synesthesia?

You're aware of the neurological phenomenon called synesthesia, right? It's a blending of different senses, hearing colors or tasting textures, etc. You might be turning a piece of clay on a wheel and hear specific frequencies when you create certain shapes or textures. You might hear specific notes on a piano as specific colors. And different individuals will very likely hear different colors for the same note: one person's bright yellow B-flat might be dark blue for someone else. It seems to vary quite a bit from person to person, even for individuals with similar types of synesthetic overlap.

We're not entirely sure what causes it, but psychedelic drugs and certain brain injuries can sometimes induce these experiences. It also just happens naturally in about 2-4% of humans (which is roughly in line with the percentage for a lot of other neurodivergences btw). If there's a specific genetic marker for synesthetic experience, we haven't found it yet. As far as I can tell from a cursory internet browse, we don't really know the root cause of synesthetic experience, but it offers an interesting avenue of research because it can help us map out a lot of the edge cases of human consciousness: What exactly is happening in our brains when our senses are pushing against their usual boundaries?

What I'm proposing here is that (maybe) a rather large subset of the human population experiences a form of synesthesia when they hear music and then feel the impulse to dance. This kind of synesthesia takes rhythmic auditory inputs and processes them through proprioception (the sensation of the position of your body and limbs, the amount of force you're using when you open a jar, the weirdly intuitive feeling of squeezing through a tight space just barely wide enough to accommodate your body, etc.)

It happens on such a widespread scale that we typically just call this synesthetic experience "having rhythm". Some people can feel the music and naturally move along to the beat, but a big chunk of humanity just doesn't seem to be able to do it. Like, if you can dance or play the drums, then you probably have the mutation that causes the rhythm synesthesia experience. Or maybe the actual mutation is the people who can't feel rhythm?

I'm assuming that it's pretty difficult to get fMRI scans of somebody's brain while they're dancing, but there's probably a ton of research using fMRI scans while people listen to music. Hopefully there are some brilliant neuroscientists out there who can explain to me why my synesthesia theory is completely wrong or point me to some cool research about human perception of rhythm or somesuch. Anyway, thanks for reading, and please be peaceful.

[happiestjameshook]

waking up | James pov

tw for coma, tw for dying, tw for panic attacks

Darkness. Not merely the absence of light, but an ever-present, crushing darkness, a tangible weight that pressed in from every conceivable angle, suffocating and absolute. It was a void so profound, so utterly devoid of hope, that it felt like a sky forever without stars, a cosmic emptiness that swallowed all sound, all warmth, all possibility. Within this suffocating abyss, the smell of the ocean began to seep into his awareness, a potent, briny tang that usually evoked memories of sun-drenched beaches and invigorating sea air. But here, in this oppressive black, it was tainted, heavy with an unsettling dampness, a cold, metallic hint of something ancient and lost.

Then, a miracle, or perhaps a cruel taunt: a flickering light, a tiny, defiant spark in the vast, inky expanse. It pulsed with an erratic, almost desperate rhythm, a beacon of fragile hope that seemed to beckon him, to urge him with an almost physical pull to come closer, to abandon the crushing dark and seek its solace. He stumbled forward, his limbs heavy, his breath shallow, drawn inexorably towards that solitary, wavering glow. As he drew nearer, the light seemed to intensify, momentarily pushing back the encroaching shadows, and it was then, in that fleeting moment of desperate proximity, that the forbidden words tumbled from his lips, a whisper that grew into a hoarse declaration: "I don't believe in fairies."

It was normal, perfectly rational. Fairies were the stuff of childhood whimsy, of forgotten folklore, not the grim reality of this waking nightmare. Yet, the moment the words were uttered, a chilling shift occurred. The air grew colder, the ocean scent sharper, and in his mind, the image of a whimsical sprite was replaced by something far more sinister, far more sorrowful: a ghost, translucent and weeping, its form shimmering at the very edge of his perception. And with that spectral apparition, the light, his only fragile anchor in the void, began to dim. It flickered with increasing desperation, its vibrant glow fading, shrinking, until it was little more than a dying ember. It was dying. The thought, raw and terrifying, screamed through his consciousness. Dying! A wave of panic, cold and sharp, washed over him. He never intended to kill it, to extinguish that precious spark. Her. Tina. The name, a desperate plea, formed on his lips, though no sound escaped. This was a bad dream, a serious, horrifyingly vivid bad dream, a descent into a personal hell he couldn't escape. He thrashed against the unseen bonds, a guttural gasp tearing from his throat, his eyes snapping open with a violent, desperate jolt, trying to grasp where he was, to anchor himself in any semblance of reality.

For a moment, the insistent, piercing beeping of a medical machine was the only sound, a relentless, high-pitched whine that rang louder than should be physically possible, an auditory assault after the dream's oppressive silence. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled his nostrils, replacing the phantom ocean. A blur of white moved into his peripheral vision, and then a doctor, his face a mask of professional concern, was leaning over him, speaking in hushed, calming tones. The words were a jumble at first, but then one phrase cut through the fog: "...your wife is in the same room."

Wife? Tina! The name exploded in his mind, a supernova of relief and dawning comprehension. He hadn't killed her! The dream, with its suffocating guilt and chilling finality, had felt so utterly, terrifyingly real, its tendrils still clinging to the edges of his consciousness. He tried to move, to reach out, but his limbs felt heavy, sluggish. He opened his hand, his fingers splaying, and a strange, unsettling stiffness greeted him. It felt alien, detached, as though it didn't quite belong to his arm, a foreign appendage grafted onto his body. A wave of numbness, cold and unsettling, slowly receded, a tingling sensation spreading through his palm and fingers until, gradually, agonizingly, full feeling returned. The physical discomfort was a strange comfort, a painful anchor back to the tangible world.

His gaze, still wide with lingering terror, darted frantically around the unfamiliar room, finally landing on a form in the bed beside his own. A small, familiar shape. His breath hitched. "Tina... my Tina...." he whispered, the words raw and broken, barely audible against the sterile hum of the machines. The nightmare's icy grip began to loosen, replaced by an overwhelming surge of protectiveness, a fierce, unshakeable resolve. He didn't know what had happened, what terrible events had led them both to this place, but one thing was clear. A silent, solemn vow, forged in the crucible of his recent terror, settled deep within his soul, echoing in the quiet room. "I'll never let you get hurt again, even if it costs me my life. Even if its me I have to protect you from."

[crawling-over]

When the book about rhythm in auditory and installation art starts talking about auditory hallucinations as a haunted body, the body seizing and stretching toward a hyperstate or virtual state of consciousness, superimposing the internal and external zones of an event where actual perception coincides with it's own potential -- yeah it made me feel better about being insane