| DISCLAIMER Please be aware all personal writing and personal music is copyright Justin S. Steckbauer 2006. Please also be aware all information does not necessarily describe actual events or views even if stated so in the writing. This is fictional material meant as entertainment. |
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| LISTENING PLEASURE |
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| DAILY JOURNAL ENTRIES & UPDATES June 26th 2008 So It's summer, I've gotten into some trouble but I'll get through it. I'm working on a page for enlightening information. Should be up soon.. May 29th 2008 It's been a while. Updates to various sections, some new content December 29th 2007 Confusion > ? The ditches and fields are lakes of snow, the road's black ice. The darkness in the sky is complete, fading and fading from the sunset into nothingness. Walking the bitter cold streets can shift the mind into a vague belief that the land has been scorched and silenced by the daggering cold, and that the sky will never again rain sun to wash away the icy still of the season of hibernation. It comes over slowly, the land darkens, nature browns and dies. Our breath mists as a reminder that oxygen is hidden but priceless. Energy drains from the eyes of the people walking by. We enter the thick of it, the middle ground and halfway point choking on the same warm air we captured into our lungs and held from fall. The deep breath drains of vitality and the red blood turns shades of darkening gray. Finally the involutary exhale comes. No more warm air, wait on spring, take in the cold full and ready for the decline. You ever get that feeling that something bad is going to happen to one of your friends? Funny feelings in the back of my head. Ever wake up from a dream of death and call to make sure everyone is alright? Soldiers in constant combat know that the next fight will be their last. Extra-sensory? Maybe so.. From the past few days I have now begun to study into over-emotion as a constant state. Mainly I've just been poking around in my brain trying to look at it from an objective view.. which is impossible unless I can craftfully distance myself from my own emotions. First reaction in almost any given situation is fear.. I'm defaulting to it more and more. Nervousness. A cloud of anxiety in preparation for any of millions of negative possibilities. The reasoning is obvious.. Fear provides a warning system to alert potential danger. If there is little to no chance of actual danger there should be no fear. There is no logic to it.. Why should I be afraid? I don't know.. but I can't talk myself out of it. I can't reason in my head no matter how much sense it might personally make. Still the fear.. it takes me. It rapes me of clean true experience and the ability to be myself. If I know anything, it's that fear does not define me. Feel through it, ignore it, fight it, destroy it. Shit.. my process is all fucked up. Thought process that is.. Too much excessive emotional resonance surrounding. Random. So random. A good feeling that lasts five minutes in the car.. a sudden depression that lasts a few hours. I feel bombarded by everything surrounding. Every place I see here in my hometown holds some memory or thought and invoke an emotional response almost always. The sight of it. Coming close to it. People are much much worse.. I find myself attempting to approximate the thoughts and feelings of people, and suddenly find myself feeling whatever emotion I had perceived. Isolation is no solution because being at the 'home' environment brings on intense emotions just as any other place. The mind spins out of control with too much time alone and this can be worse than the consuming public worlds. As a result of all these constantly battering emotions I find myself in a state of super-heightened stress.. a cloud I can't escape. The emotions felt can be overturned or nullified by inner reasoning, but this always occurs after the feeling has hit. And the same emotions that had been nullified minutes before hit again, like I learn nothing engagement after engagement. That is the battle.. dissolve the emotion before too many build up and panic ensues.. Send off each as they pop up.. Kind of like tetris. Right!? Thursday November 29th 2007 Updates to the Portfolio and Prose sections. Adding new content to the site. Tuesday November 27th 2007 Updating a lot of the pages. Audio diaries are up. Gonna try and bring in more content in the prose section. On a sidenote, I started making techno ambient music. Posted it on myspace, check it out: www.myspace.com/amitystompinggrounds NEW PIECES Have you ever stood back to back with a friend? I’ve seen the nobility in humans.. The redeeming factors of confused sheep. I speak bluntly of my dissatisfaction with how humanity has arrested itself.. How we’re not living up to our true potential.. That we’re just completely lost and doomed as a people. But you know.. Maybe I’m wrong. I really hope I am. I keep a deep hope that we’ll overcome our shallowing nature. Hoping that just before the end we’ll pull it all together and by some miracle.. Grow our hearts three times as large and save the sleigh from the rocky edge. A happy ending is a comedy, and if you ask me.. Life seems pretty funny. Laugh at the irony. Smile when you notice it. Our discussion (violent argument) had shifted a bit, and I was trying to explain to Jake that not only was vocabulary a conception, but thought was as well. "No, no. Thought is the means by which concepts are conceived," said Jake, leaning forward in his chair. "Then all five senses would be serving to conceive new ideas," I replied. He nodded. "So, thought is the sixth sense." "No, well.. Yeah, no, the- well," Jake paused for a moment thinking. "Imagination is the sixth sense." "Let's smoke," I said, standing up and grabbing my lighter. We walked out,for the second time through the blue stock hallways, doors, doors, doors, wet shoes, dry walls and dimmed lights. There wasn't a single flake falling as we descended the walkway to our designated(and preferred) smoking area. I stared down a line of trees running with street lights all the way to the entrance to south hall. Soft vibrations of wind slipped droplets of half frozen snow falling from the scraggly tree, and entering a whirlwind that flung the helpless snowflakes in all directions. "Do you find this environment.. Inspiring?" I asked, still staring down into the trees. "I suppose so," replied Jake, lighting his cigarette and taking a short drag. "I grew up in a small town, I'm used to it. It's like.. You don't know everyone's name, but you know their face." "Just a single dorm hall, I suppose so," I retorted, lighting my own cigarette. There was a long pause, and I could tell Jake was thinking deep within and without himself. "I don't think we're on the same level, when we talk" "We're running parallel," I answered repositioning my feet on the sidewalk. "Like.. Have you done shrooms?" No." "Well, then there's no way we can truly share a thought," he responded. "What do drugs have to do with our conversations?" "Have you done any psychedelics?" "Eh, no, not really," I paused, thinking. "DXM." "That's it?" "Well what? Explain it to me," I demanded. There was a long pause, and the expression on Jake's face seemed to change. "Have you ever felt.. one with the universe?" "I'm not sure what you mean," I replied, sifting through past memories in my conscious mind. "Well.. Like salvia.. Have you ever tripped on salvia?" "Yeah, a few times." "Ohhhh, ok, I see. Well then you probably can," replied Jake seeming somewhat relieved. "Can what?" I demanded. "Salvia took me someplace man, " the tone of his voice was changing, and he was beginning to move around more. "I was.. One with the universe. But the thing is.. It was terrible. I saw the universe.. As these.. hundreds and thousands of mechanical gears, all turning together.. ... Have you ever experienced something like that?" I thought to myself for a moment. "I did 10X salvia one night, long time ago, a few weeks before I was going to stand trial. I had the worst trip of my life. It was like I was.. Caught in this web. This green blur was spinning in front of me.... I realized in those brief moments, before it ended... that I was the most disgusting worthless person on the face of the Earth... ...And it took me a few days to shake that feeling, but in a way, it will always be with me." Jake nodded, "Now.. Have you ever experienced a complete peace with the universe?" I sighed, trying to think back once again, "Have you?" "Shrooms man," replied Jake smiling. "I had the best trip of my life one night. I didn't just feel at one with the universe. I felt at peace with the universe." "Ahh.. I had an experience, on DXM-" "DXM? How?" he demanded. "Man I had been doing this shit for months. I was dropping sixty skittles a day." He nodded, "Tell me. From the beginning." "I was in my room, starting the trip, just kicking back. I was hitting probably.. The second plateau.. When I looked out my window, and I saw the snow falling. I don't know why.. But I walked into the kitchen, and out my patio door. I walked out into the middle of my backyard, full of trees, with the snow falling.. And the depression I had been feeling, the darkness, the exhaustion.. It just all seemed to go away. I was staring up into the sky.. The snow flakes were perfect, so perfect.. Everyone of them looked like a glowing star, falling all around me.. Millions of stars floating around me. I felt so good. I smiled, I laughed, and I laughed so hard.. I started to cry." There was a long pause as Jacob took in my words. I flicked my cigarette butt off, and posed a question. "So.. Which is the liar?" "..Both." I smiled. There was a short pause, as we admired the world around us. We walked back inside a few minutes later. Sunday November 25th 2007 Been awake for a few days doing a little of this and that. It hasn't been too bad. Got a lot of writing down. All up on my blogs. Cept for a new short story I started yesterday, round 25 pages long already. Need a lot of work though. Friday, November 23rd 2007 Lots of changes to the layout and i'll be adding much more content soon. Monday October 29th 2007 All is going well. Take a look at my material on talent database, got a lot of my work there. It's a great site, I recommend joining up. Tuesday September 25th 2007 Hadn't been writing much until tonight. Finally finished Jacob and the Meadow. Decided to put up the full text, because chances are it will never be published. It's my pride and joy, click here to read. Here are some random pieces. Another night walk on the quiet streets. I trotted down my driveway kicking up gravel under foot. The air was chilled against my skin, but there was little wind. I could taste dew falling on the grass and trees. It was a cloudy night, very dark. I walked a few hundred yards and soon came the steady rumbling of tiny wheels on the pavement. It was pitch black, the stars were veiled, I could see nothing. The sound was right on top of me and all at once I caught the faint silhouettes of a group of eight skateboarders in the headlights of a car far off. “Hi,” I spoke as they skated around me carefully. The rumbling on the pavement stopped quickly and I could see their leader turn, his blonde shaggy hair shimmering in the coming headlights. “Who are you?” He asked. “Justin,” I replied. “Oh,” he answered trailing off. The group of skaters vanished as soon as they had appeared. It perplexed me that skaters would be out so late, the time being nearly four in the morning. I shrugged it off jamming headphones into my ears listening to insane techno on full volume, marching to the step of the beat, feet stepping from pavement to gravel. I pressed my fingers against the dials on my mp3 player switching up the songs, marching into a giant field about a mile from my house. The grasses in the field were up to my shins. The field sloped slightly upward for about 100 yards. There were large clumps of trees to both far sides of the field. There was a collection of four or five large trees collected together in the middle not far off from me. I could remember flying kites in the field as a child. The thought made me smile. I sat down in the wet grasses at the cusp folding my hands together observing the night, awaiting the coming sunrise. night story The wind had died down, a few flowers were blooming, the last signs of summer passing. The sun was setting and I sat at the wheel of my car in a black and white designed shirt outlined as a lion and a heart and different squiggles and half measures of creativity, dark brown drop-line khakis, yellow brown shoes and I held a cigarette in my mouth through a black rimmed-gold holder dangling from my mouth. The bastard refused to start as I cussed and vainly kicked at the Japanese beast refusing to rumble. Fuck, I thought and called up a buddy who drove promptly to recover me from my house-born damnation. About seven minutes after the phone call a strange feeling came over me. It was like some slow moving cloud had settled in around me, attached itself to me and now walked with me. And yes.. I was walking. I was walking along the road, down the center toward where I guessed Jacob would be coming. I grabbed a square black mp3 player and jammed the volume button to maximum plugging in the headphones, dancing and singing without inhibition walking along the black top roads in darkness just past the sun fall, clouds rumbling, thick trees to both sides and a heavy orange street lamp beaming down. It's presence slowed my pace a bit and I spotted Jake's red car whizzing by. We proceeded down the main drag and past the deep gasp of the town beyond into the slowly dying commercial districts, grabbing a bag of tramadol and a case of miller. We came back to my place eating the tramadol watching weird shit like interview with the vampire and that disturbing flick involving the home alone kid and Seth Green dressing drag queen and railing cocaine. Some time passed I think, and the next moment I remember we were sitting in my garage. I was wearing a four beam head strap lamp (infrared included) sipping a beer bottle and letting brown smoke sift into my lungs from the bowl clenched in my sweaty palm. Death bowl, brown, black crud, topped with leaves, stems and beaners. Jungle danger. It was painful, but we both felt it was necessary. The fog lifted and we both decided a walk was in order. I set the lamps to maximum leading the way into the great forest down the path past the trampoline, fire pit and volleyball court, through the short pine trees beyond the pile of broken limbs and into the pitch black glaze of blurred branches, tall pine trees dead 20 feet to the floor and ground thick pine needles covering our path. We stopped our angry loud night shaking tromp and carefully listened to the night. Very little sound, no crickets chirping nearby, no clouds or winds blasting overhead, just the peaceful night sky, stars, realities. No time passed. There was no change, no tip of dimension, no sound, only the overwhelming smell of burning rubber and plastic caked wiring gone black. We were sitting in my room staring blankly into nowhere, nowhere at all, falling side by side and passing out. Wednesday August 22nd 2007 Been writing fairly regularly on my myspace blogs. New content up here. I've been appointed assistant editor of my school newspaper The Forum at UWMC. Gonna be a lot of fun. two new blogs. free writing::: I loaded up on a handful of sleeping pills, one, two, three, aphasic but really in the mood to have a chat, so I had lots of chats that I will never remember, with lots of ideas that I desperately attempted to get across, but only spat random verbs and pronouns. God knows how this must scare the roommates after a Saturday night spent boozing at the bar, come home to find me talking to the refrigerator. The stories they tell of my violent mucks through set standards and practices like Godzilla through Tokyo skyscrapers are chock full of rumor and biased slander. How can it go so far that the story is now completely devoid of any truth whatsoever? I would say the purest nugget of truth you could take from anything I wrote, would be the feeling in your mind after finishing the last paragraph. I had a fever, somewhere around 99.2. I was sweating like a circle of naked aristocrats in a sauna. The weather said thundershowers but it was pure sun, an early morning, the rank smell of sweat in my clothes. That musky aroma everyone loves. No, now that I think of it, the time of day was night and I was freezing cold in my bed waiting for a phone call. I didn't sleep that night, waking up early that next morning to hear the announcement of the day, dear Sara got put under. Actually it was more like, "Hey, I'm going to put Sara under." And I replied, "Ok." The cocker spaniel was fifteen something years old. Probably older. When we got it, it was already dying. We all expected each day to find it dead somewhere.. in the washer and dryer probably. Why do dead animals always end up in the washer and dryer? Frogs, grasshoppers, snakes, mice, ferrets? They just default to the dryer. So years passed and Sara didn't die, in fact she survived seven tumors. She never cleaned herself, obviously a unique characteristic to her sub-species. One day she went deaf, and just started following the shelty around, dear Gracy.. Gracy who one fateful morning got into a bottle of Tylenol pm.. and never got out. ..So you've got the old senile smelly deaf cocker spaniel named Sara and the clinically retarded shelty named Gracy. What a sad state of affairs. Where was I.. oh, yes, Sara was sent to puppy heaven (or nowhere) depending on your religious stance. Do animals have souls? I ate a can of coffee beans, washed it down with some eggnog and a slice of key lime pie for desert. In a dream I imagined Brett Favre stayed on ten more seasons, and the idiot who brought on the coach from San Francisco was charged with conspiracy to ruin a franchise. Oh yes.. I do love football, why? Because it's a game of pure strategy, and players at NFL level play with such skill it becomes style, everything impossible is second nature, the battle is tactics as much as individual ability as much as teamwork and as much as desire. In Wisconsin, we take these things very seriously. Football, hunting, drinking and fucking. ..Cheese. Snowmobiling. Violence. Suicide. It's all done here, a blasphemous tender, raw and uncut. This is the secret recipe for the production of uncompromising serial killers. Ed Gein. Jeffrey Dahmer. Things get a bit dirtier, a bit grittier, the night thunders on, and you start actually genuinely enjoy yourself. You don't even have to try to force it. It's just good and that is a rare thing. An environment like this takes so many forms over the shadows of a day. The wind blows through, the curtains wave, the deafening sound of chainsaws wails from outside the front door.. It really sounds like a bunch of construction workers are having a cookout on the front lawn. Those sounds blend with the electronic progressive alt metal tunes, so dreamy, focused, consuming running through speakers blasting into the living room. The gusts of wind and dirty sailors doing whatever outside really make you feel like you're sitting on a house boat. Adrift in the Atlantic ocean. As for the newspaper, it will be gutted and rebuilt from the ground up. The name will be changed from "The Forum" to "The Gonzo." Double the size. Pure gonzo journalism. Creative works like continuing short stories, photography. Reviews, Poetry, all the strange opinions from the unemployable philosopher, the newman and myself. No more stories (on the front page) with the headline: "UWMC Blood drive success!" Students don't like the news, it's not trendy. If they don't like art.. We're finished. The thunder and lightning rule the night, but indoors our conversations permeate the air. Cigarette smoke, the scent of stacked books, rosemary, melons and humidity. I was greeted with a cheap shot to the face from Chris, knocking me off the side of the deck and into a bush. I staggered to my feet falling back up the deck steps, and in through the rear door. Beer bottles were clinking together, some dry white wine was circulating. After due consideration, I decided to keep my feet on the ground this time. I hadn't slept in 2 days.. but I did feel alright. Not alright to drive, but alright to move about freely without fear of steep steps or wax candles.. The rest is history. Friday July 13th 2007 I've got a player for my audioblogs on this site, just click here. Saturday June 23rd 2007 Went through and rewrote most of 'The Inre of Chartreuse' updates on site // Somehow I finished the last adventure missing, The Red Hotel Interlude. Take a look. // Oh yeah.. I have audiojournals now. Like my blogs, but told in my own voice. Heres a link to those: soundclick audio blogs // Made some new techno music as well. Recorded a new tale on the audio blogs Heres some recent random writing: Finding love in the strangest places. Wearing my emotions on my shoulder. Cut the wings on my back. I've been reading a bit of existentialism lately. Dostoevsky, Kierkegaard, Sartre, and so on. I'm avoiding Nietzsche, after reading a lot of his stuff about the will to power and such I don't find him very appealing. The absense of an afterlife scares me, to be honest, though it is quite possible. I've also been reading some old science fiction short stories by Robert Heinlein, A E Van Vogt, Stanley Weinbaum among others. Very very old stories.. around the 1930s. It's fascinating the worlds these people could dream up. Turned 22 on April 6th. Been layin low, chilling with my girlfriend, avoiding school as much as possible. Numb chases us like sharks, despite we are such incredibly sensitive individuals. The past three nights have been all dreams at or above the margin of good to bad. My friend got me a dreamcatcher from a cherokee reservation somewhere along the roads to Bonnaroo and back. It had my name on it.. The dreams have been plenty weird, even to the point of being bizarre, but not as rough as night terror images or anything like that. Unconsciousness is where we encounter some of the craziest things we'll ever perceive in our simple 'real' lives, but after a year of constant nightmares, there are certain things I don't want to see. We freaks of love and conscience have to stay together amid the violent waves of strange people out there harmless and otherwise. The trouble is, we freaks aren't always easy to get along with. Not to mention we're all such social politicians we end up playing dumb word games among ourselves instead of really talking. We're all so sensitive it's all taken personally, locked away in the subliminal, and eventually brings about problems in the group. Later on conflict. Eventually the group breaks up from the very center outward. June 9th 2007 Added a lot of my writing to the website. short stories, prose, weird tales and such. June 8th 2007 Things have been dull, but i've made the best of it. Jake came by and I hosed him down with a fire extinghisher, etc etc. Writing randomly but thats all. May 27 2007 I've been writing not stop for the past threee days, its rediuclous. A medieval short story, a sci fi one. blogs journals random shit I'm really proud of this piece I wrote for the school newspaper: The Plight of the Indigo Broken Social Scene and CXloud Cult at 6 am going on 3 days.. insane. Low lights, coffee, alcohol, violence, creation, insomnia, speed . incense, dried sweat and love. Those words describe the past week pretty well May 25th 2007 Started a new short story, based off something I wrote as a short to sound like it was part of a bigger story.. haha. On my blogs, what I have so far anyway. Listening to Broken Social Scene and Cloud Cult, what's wrong with me? April 26th 2007 The last issue of the forum comes out in a week or so. Diana is headed off, but my buddy Quentin will be taking over. I'll be on the staff.. doing what I don't know, but it'll be fun. March 31st 2007 Short stories won't be available for a while. Working on updating each. Xenocrates is such a moron "I've often regretted my speech, never my silence." Pah! I regret both, and usually the latter more so. I've started working on an old short story about some ghostly happenings at a certain college, started an outline for a new novel! And while at Stout I put together some ideas for a more down to earth short story. Woebegone is in first stage revisions. March 30th 2007 Oh.. it's about five in the morning. I don't like sleeping when I don't have to. The Forum comes out in a few days. Woohoo. I added a bunch of new crap to the website, some new sections. I want to build the prose section into an archive of all the blogs I've ever written. Could take a while. I've finished one of my recent short stories Woebegone. When I say "finished" I mean the story is complete, but revisions need to be made all over the place. Oh well, who cares. I was excited to finally get through it. About 14 pages. |
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| Namaste, Welcome. If you're new coming, read Seed in lower right || Support this website, click here for banners. |
| I'm a free prose writer creating new styles of writing. I'm 23 and reside in central Wisconsin. I write prose, short stories and novels for the most part. |
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| Submit an email, click here. |
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| WRITING Open Style Prose my pride and joy, the meat and potatoes Short Stories fiction, various genres Adventures strange journeys & experiences in my life Novels two chap previews Portfolio examples of my best work Audio Diaries spoken words Musical Compositions ambient creations of mine Jail Journals written while behind bars 2 years ago The Writer about who I am |
| Check out my easy listening style music.. click here! |
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| Aries.. Avante-garde, new ideas, pioneering |
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| Light workers. Manipulate the spectrums, pure creative energy.. |
| Raw reality, personal experience, modern fallout. A spin off of new journalism. |
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| The mark of one striken with the condition known as manic depression.. all things good, bad.. forever |
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| AIM: The Expositorr MSN: revolutioninaboxx@ hotmail.com Yahoo: Justin4685 |
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| INTRODUCTION Alright, you've heard of me, you haven't? Doesn't matter. As they tell me, my writing can be highly addictive. Blunt, truth, honesty. I'm seeking to push all boundaries and accomplish incredible things in my time. I write on a lifestyle and system of values I believe in, and I make extreme commentaries on society, government and religion. Most of it though is simple (and sometimes complex) explorations of the mind. Journey with me, will you? |
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| UNDERSTANDING The Basics: Enlightenment Solution Self Cultivation: Isolation and Self Life's Gifts: Exploring Realities Prose: Apathy Epidemic Journey in the night: Nightwalkers |
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| CREATIVITY Listen "Radiohead - In Rainbows" Rent "28 Weeks Later" Read "Fear and Loathing in America" by Hunter S. Thompson |
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| There are times... I feel completely empty. And a second later I feel in love. Love. Love in all things. Life. All around us. Shimmering. Cars, people. Surrounding. Life. Society. Unorganized. Drifters drifting. Love. Hope. Defeat. Resignation to the unending causes and consequences of the universe. Around, everywhere. I'm drowning in it, and there's no way out. I'm in love with it, I hate it. |
| Do you read between the lines? Is every letter, poem, short story, and novel more an original work, or a hybrid created as the reader interprets it? I hear thoughts flowered from a piece I wrote I had never considered or hadn't noticed from that angle. In a way, no art form can be appreciated without a return of thought, imagination, and/or creativity. The person who sees your painting and wheaps.. have they seen more than you? Is that piece of art more precious to that person than it is to the artist? |
| SHORT PROSE |
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| SEED You wake up. You open your eyes. Another day. You begin to think about the coming minutes and hours, the way to work, what you will eat. You see the structure that has been built around you your entire life. From the day you were born every single year, every single memory, every event of your life stacked up and up and up to create the human being you are now. You live in the moments that are passing by. Once a moment passes it becomes a memory. Stop. Go all the way back to when you opened your eyes this morning. Stop and whip the slate clean, push away all those structures and patterns and memories and images and doctrines and faces, and rules, and boundaries. Push it all away for a moment. Just an open sky. An open sky in your mind. Free to wonder anywhere. You are a single human. One of a family. A family of a community. A community of a neighborhood. A neighborhood meshing into a township. One of several towns that encompass a city. A city connected to several cities encompassing a county, and a country that houses many cities, towns, neighborhoods, families, and people. These countries vast and large link together with bodies of water and other countries. All meshed together as you step back to see the beautiful blue-green sphere we inhabit. Earth. Look at our home and our society; wonderful and mysterious. It is a gift. We come back to you, a single individual. One entity, though vastly important. The universe like a pond of water still, still, still.. Like a tiny pebble dropped into the pond your thoughts, ideas, and actions ripple through the world around you affecting everything and everyone in infinite combinations. Rain drops falling into an endless ocean.. What will you do? |
| Balls of compressed light are traveling like lightning through the endless licks of grass tasting the fields far above and about and below to the giant tree brushles flying down underground blasting through the dirt and cutting beautiful paintings into the lava flows, exploding out and straight through a glass door leading to a dimension devoid of space and time and all the laws of physics, dancing in this place for weeks and months and years, living in the pools of sap and feeding on constant light of everywhere, growing yellow lighted roots of exploratory thought until the whole dimension was covered in a forest of yellow rooted, orange trunked, and red ball light bearing the fruit of pure thought consciousness. |
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