The human experience has always been gamed in one form or another. To understand dynamics of reality as having predictable odds based on statistics and formula is a rational perspective which enhances the ability to will outcomes for any individual player or collective of players. This simple principle of studying reality as having mechanics which are constants of predictability is the bases of game design (ex: gravity).
As we move further towards the perfection of simulation in gaming (AGI) and simultaneously discover through physics that we are living in what appears to suggest a fractalized projection several layers removed from base reality, ideas of glitches and Easter eggs existing in our reality seem plausible (if not already apparent).
Consider this from all angles and from many levels that you are both a player and a designer.
Durring and after the NSA, throughout 2014, I moderated an online forum which was created to discuss MK-Ultra and other such related experiments. The group was titled “MK-Ultra Bad Trips (Find Muck)”, and through it I met a woman who claimed to be a lifelong victem of human trafficking and blackops medical experimentation. The odd part to her story (besides being raised on Yale campus, used as a child in a skull and bones ceremony, and a human labrat for Doctor Jose Delgado’s experimental brain implant technology) was that before her relatively recent move to the UK she had lived in the same small town I was living in.
She told me about being hired to cater for parties in a secret banquet hall beneath the plaza of my town and was shocked to find as much evidence of this as being true as possible without actually being invited. Needless to say this all spooked me out a bit, especially with her telling me how hopelessly fucked everything was on the otherside of the curtain. We talked through skype and private messanger for several months before she disappeared. I spent a lot of time researching her claims; even interviewed her allegedly abusive adopted mother and (by the time I interviewed him) ex-husband in the UK.
I had written a more detailed account of this two weeks ago and decided not to publish it, but then last week I received an email from this individual informing me she had written a book about her experience in human trafficking which can be read here. After several years, strange timing to be contacted just after reapproaching the matter. I am conflicted about including this sync, but am doing so to get it out of the way.
January 30th, 1985, my mother was visiting Abington Memorial Hospital when suddenly she went into premature labor. I was born in the early hours of the 31st. 1/31
Though I was put in an incubator, I tore the heart monitors off my chest. My parents decided to name me Eric David Cowan- which, in simple gematria (a=1,b=2,c=3,…z=26), equals 131.
131 is the 32nd prime number- the preceding prime of 137. Locamotive 131 is a fictional train from Back to the Future III used to speed the delorean time machine to 88mph and send Marty back to 1985.
01001110 01100101 01101010 01110011 01100101 01101101 00100000 01110110 01100001 01110011 01101001 00100000 01110011 01110100 01100001 01101110 01101001 01100011 01101001 00100000 01100001 01101110 01101001 00100000 01101000 01101111 01100100 01101110 01101111 01110011 01110100 01101001
01001110 01100101 01101010 01110011 01100101 01101101 00100000 01110110 01100001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01101010 01101101 01100101 01101110 01101111 00100000 01101110 01100101 01100010 01101111 00100000 01101111 01100010 01110010 01100001 01111010 01100101 01101011
01001110 01100101 01101010 01110011 01100101 01101101 00100000 01110110 01100001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01101101 01111001 01110011 01101100 01100101 01101110 01101011 01111001 00100000 01101110 01100101 01100010 01101111 00100000 01100011 01101001 01101110 01111001
01001110 01100101 01101010 01110011 01100101 01101101 00100000 01110110 01100001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01110000 01110010 01100101 01110011 01110110 01100101 01100100 01100011 01100101 01101110 01101001 00100000 01101110 01100101 01100010 01101111 00100000 01110000 01101111 01100011 01101000 01111001 01100010 01101110 01101111 01110011 01110100 01101001
01101010 01110011 01101101 01100101 00100000 01110110 01110011 01110101 01100100 01100101
One winter’s night, 2015, I was struck with the impulse to take a recent collage/painting I had done to a desolate field a few blocks from my house and leave it in the grass. I cut through the field regularly on my way to the grocery store and did so after dropping off the painting. It was an abstract image but somewhat implied a fish and in my mind resonated with the covert symbolic gesturing of early-christians (before being taken on as a tool for empire building).
It had to have been less than ten minutes before I returned to the field from the grocery store. To my surprise the painting was already gone and in its place was a Black Madonna (often associated with Mary Magdalene) figurine and little wooden box containing a decorative skull and key.
It seemed; still seems to me, impossible that someone could have found the painting, took it, returned to drop off these items, and vanished in the ammount of time it took me to return. The figurine also reminded me of Persephone and so I placed the morning glory seeds I had saved from many years before inside the base of the statue and have used it as an altar piece since.
As many of you may already know, I have been living out of my van while working for the past couple months. Occasionally I will stay at a hotel for a night or two to get clean, sprawl out on a bed, and watch some TV. I have noticed at the cheapest inn in town, an elderly man who seems to live in one of the rooms. He smiles and says, “Hi” whenever we cross paths. He reminds me of an older version of John Podesta if John Podesta didn’t chug semen and worship satan (kidding, John!). But what stood out to me the most was a ritual sort of behavior this man would practice several times a day: come outside with a large container of water, with a smaller container of water floating in it, and go to curb at the corner of the hotel parking lot where he would arrange pebbles in a row and sprinkle water on them.
The other night I was staying at a hotel next to his and had a vivid dream of this man performing his ritual. When I woke I knew that I had to do something about it, even though I have no idea what it means that he does this. So, at like 2a.m. I walk over to the curb where he lines and waters his pebbles and I left: my dreidel, a kennedy halfdollar I had gotten within last 24 hours, a six sided die, an eight sided die, a ten sided die, and an iron horse shoe nail which was given to me as protection back in 2006. And just like that I emptied most of my “lucky charms” onto the curb, arranged amongst the pebbles, never to be seen by me again. I don’t know how he will take this turn of events, but I have a feeling that it is what I was meant to do. Sometimes you don’t know, you just do.