Arcanejuice

Echtrae Nerai / Echtrae Chonlai

Joshua Sotello — Tue, 03 Feb 2026 23:49:44 GMT

Part one:

The Echtrae Nerai may be read as a melding of the predominant cultural beliefs of the tribes and peoples roaming the isles in the pre-roman period which during the melding period of monk monasteries and Christendom. The traditions held by the medieval Irish and Gaelic tribes during Samhain began to fuse with the Roman Christian colonizers’ biblical ideology when creating translations of orally held myths, which Echtra Chonlai is.

The period Samhain, economically speaking, represented a shift into the final new quarter of the year; however, the day is also time in which the boundaries that separate the “other” world, or fairy world, from our own physical plane of reality. Whatever aligns occur allow for a weakened barrier between our world and the world that sits on top of the visible light spectrum world. Through the use of portals individuals or entities were allowed easier passage between worlds, one of the most famous being “the cave of the cat”or the portal to hell.

The story takes place during this transitory period and alludes to many of the commonly held beliefs and practices of that time. By closely examining this text, its structure, syntax, and the allusions made within the story help provide a better understanding of the narrative of Echtrae Nerai and its intent. This translation of Echtrae Nerai was made by Kuno Meyer and was used for the interpretation of this text. The text has been transcribed from an orator, to a manuscript, and then translated creating shifts in the linguistic form causing the interpretations of the text to be debated. The arguments are centered around the structure of the narrative versus what it is saying. By examining the narrative structurally, there are two arguments which seek to understand the narrative one in parts and the other as a whole. The first focuses on the structure of the narrative as having distinct episodes separate of each other. The second states that the tale is constructed through use of time paradoxes to explain its narrative, which are pivotal and cannot be omitted. Through examining both aspects of the debate a better understanding of the text’s cohesion and dissonance can be attained in its relation to its medieval audience. The structure is vital to understand the references included within the narrative as it shifts between the cultural festivities of Samhain, Halloween, and the depictions of the otherworld.

The story begins on a Halloween night, or Samhain, and the protagonist Nera agrees to tie a “withe” around the foot of a hanged corpse outside for a reward. However, “demons would appear on that night always,” this depiction reiterates the medieval held beliefs of Samhain as being a time in which boundaries between our worlds are weakened (Meyer p.215,1889). The following lines depict the “captive” speaking to Nera despite being a corpse. The story focuses on the use of the term “demons” to describe what comes out at night during this time, but the audience would still be aware of these beings as part of the other world. The corpse in return for the favor provided to Nera requests a drink with him, Nera accepts, and the story seemingly continues. However, at this point in the story that a scene change occurs as Nera takes the corpse on his back toward nearby homes (Meyer p.217, 1889). The corpse can be interpreted as either a “demon” or death incarnate as described in the story and it is alluded to previously because of time in which this occurs. The next scene highlights certain traditions during Samhain that the audience is potentially aware of as good or bad practices given of how the scene ends. The first house which is described as having, “A lake of fire round that house” denies Nera entry then corpse replies with, “there is no fire without sparing in it ever” (Meyer p.217, 1889). The audience may interpret this as proper housekeeping warding off the dead from entering the home, and as a good practice during Samhain.

The following two houses directly contrast each other both with opposite outcome and practices. The second house has a lake of water around it preventing them from entering the home. The corpse states, “there is never a washing-nor a bathing-tub, nor a slop-pail in it at night after sleeping” (Meyer p.217, 1889). This may have been interpreted by the audience as a good practice because it prevents illness (and bacteria) from spreading because the still water is removed from the home and isn’t reused or tainted stopping death from literally and metaphorically entering the house. The third house is does not follow the practices of the former and they enter. The corpse, “then drinks a draught of either of them and scatters the last sip from his lips at the faces of the people that were in the house, so that they all died” (Meyer, p.217, 1889). From this point it would become clear to the audience that this scene is a cautionary tale highlighting the foreshadowing within the scene. The narrator then reiterates this part of the tale as the origin of these traditions, “henceforth it is not good (to have) either a tub for washing or bathing, or a fire without sparing, or a slop-pail in a house after sleeping” (Meyer, p.217, 1889). The scene ends as Nera puts the corpse back at the gallows and returns to Cruachan.

It is at this point that the structure of narrative is debated by its interpreters, for example, Seán Ó Coileáin in his paper, “Echtrae Nerai and Its Analogues” examine how Echtrae Nerai can be split into separate narrative dialogues and the debate surrounding it. The significance of Nera and the corpse is interpreted as being absent in the aristocratic lifestyle as suggested by Ó Coileáin but, “one feels that this part of the tale first took shape at a more plebeian level; this feeling is supported, although not finally proven, by its barely altered continuation in modern folk narrative and belief” (Ó Coileáin p.432, 1990). This interpretation highlights the distinction between the separate social classes’ relation to the story and the interpretations of a medieval audience, explaining this distinct shift in narrative as it was carried on. Because the differences come from how the monied classes retained a different set of customs and practices because they did not do these housekeeping traditions it appears the narrative had been passed down orally. Ó Coileáin then highlights another aspect of the split in narrative which would come from the orator themselves mixing elements of different narratives together by swapping similar lines and motifs (Ó Coileáin p.433,1990). When these breaks occur, it is because of the difficulty in reproducing oral method and the manuscripts which the stories are transmitted to. This method is not necessarily the most reliable way of retaining a narrative as a cohesive piece, but did serve the audience of that time in a manner that helped unite communities and share culture.

Furthermore, Ó Coileáin suggests that the narrative split of Echtrae Nerai comes not from the story itself but from the narrator seeking to, “regenerate the thematic energy that will carry the narrative through,” or as “compositional breathing space […] where none already exists” (Ó Coileáin p. 438, 1990). This relates directly to the limitations of the period because the audience’s relation to the narrator for these stories, and as consequence they must be not only relatable geographically but entertaining.

So, Echtrae Nerai continues and total shift occurs in the narrative when arriving back home, “the dun was burnt before him, and he beheld a heap of heads of their people (cut off) by the warriors from the dun” (Meyer p. 217, 1889). The next few lines create a rhythmic pattern because of the repetitive nature of the phrase, “a man on the track here!” and “the heavier is the track,” but it also suggests a passphrase when passing into the cave of Cruachan (Meyer p. 217, 1889). The audience is able to directly associate what has occurred with the real location of the cave, but the phrase causes the creatures to enter the other world with Nera. At this point it is the first time Nera appears in the otherworld and he meets the king and is sent to carry wood for a woman. The audience might interpret this as normal house hold duties, but it is during this that Nera witnesses a lame man carry a blind man to search for the king’s crown. It is a parallel to the narrative that the audience is aware of that just occurred in the first section of the story. As previously stated, it is widely debated whether it is a true continuation of the narrative or a split. But as suggested by John Carey in his paper, “Sequence and Causation in Echtra Nerai” simply omitting the parallels, “did not consider ways in which the first episode is echoed later in EN itself” (Carey p.67, 1988). The two men in this scene seem to directly imitate Nera and the corpse’s own search ensuring the crown is still within the well at the very end of the sid. Furthermore, after Nera’s interaction with the corpse he tells the women what he witnessed, “I was going into the sid methought the rath of Cruachan was destroyed,” but she corrects him by saying, “en elfin host came to thee that will come true” (Meyers p. 220-221,1889). Suggesting after Nera’s interaction with the corpse he received a “vision” showing alternative reality from the sid while wandering home that night.

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Carey suggests that the first and second segments share, “the idiosyncratic diction of a single redactor” suggesting that “unskillfully combined parallel accounts’ becomes more problematical” (Carey p.68,1988). This association of diction to narrative structure suggests the opposite of what Ó Coileáin states and highlights Carey’s own structural thesis, a time paradox. Nera struggles with the news of his “vision,” but is told that virtually no time has passed in the outside world despite being in the sid for three days. So, it becomes narratively established that time functions differently within the sid, and the audience would know that given their own relationship with other texts of period. Suggesting that the day Nera had his vision was on Samhain, when the barrier between worlds breaks down, and after interacting with a magical dead creature witnesses, while still in our world, a possible alternative future. Consequently, it would suggest the necessity of the first segment of the story needed to have taken place during Samhain for the story to retain continuity. Nera then asks how he is to prove this to Ailill and Medb. The women states, “take these fruits of summer with thee,” and “he took wild garlic with him and primrose and golden fern” (Meyer p.221, 1889). Suggesting that the otherworld is a different point of time than our world. Additionally, the woman mentions that, “I shall be pregnant by thee […] and bare thee a son,” foretelling future events and what will be told to him later, “thou mayest take thy family and thy cattle from the sid” (Meyer p.221, 1889). From this point it is not mentioned that either of these events have occurred nor does Nera have any cattle. However, the audience would have a direct relation to this reference of cattle given that Samhain is also when spring calves are considered worth more with the passing of the new quarter.

Nera then exits the sid and returns the same night after leaving the corpse “and found them [his people] around the same caldron,” suggesting to the audience that no time has passed. Then confirming what saw he when entering the sid the first time as an alternative reality. The narrator now uses Nera’s yearlong return to tie this story to ulster cycle. Stating that Nera, “staid with his people to the end of a year. That was the very year in which Fergus mac Roich came as an exile from the land of Ulster to Ailill and Medb to Cruachan.” The events the woman foretold come to pass as Ailill tells Nera, “Arise and bring thy cattle from the sid, that we may go to destroy the sid” (Meyer p.221, 1889). The audience would then be able to make a direct connection to what was told to Nera by the woman before he left the Sid the first time. Nera after a yearlong absence for a second time is given a cow after the birth of his son, which was foretold. Nera spends time in the sid since time functions differently here to tend to his land. It is in this that Carey makes the case for the necessity of a time paradox motif to occur within the narrative because, “cause and effect are in fact redundant and disconnected only in this world: in the sid, events unfold in a continuous, tightly connected sequence” (Carey p.68, 1988). It is during this second return that the calf is taken by Morrigan and the calf is bulled by Donn of Cualgne, after the birth of Nera’s son which was foretold in the first visit to the sid. The women would then appear to the medieval audience as having prophetic abilities, while also suggesting that there is not continuity breaks contrary to what Ó Coileáin suggests.

The manipulation of time is what makes the narrative more cohesive in structure because Nera returns to the sid before the raid. He is sent there to prepare the calf is given to him and stolen within that time frame, and because the sid’s timeline does not function in a linear fashion these events occur prior and on alternative timelines. Carey describes these moments as “Temporal Disparities” which makes the Echtra Nerai unique as a narrative because, “Nera visits different versions of particular moments as his Otherworld experiences shunt him forward and backward through time” (Carey p. 69, 1988). Nera then returns to his home and so does the cow after being taken and the women tells him to prepare for Halloween. Carey notes that, “EN centres upon the night of Samain […] when traffic between worlds is easiest and most frequent” (Carey p.70, 1988). Nera returns to our world and Ailill and Medb ask, “and where hast thou been since thou didst go from us?” (Meyer p. 225, 1889). This line is pivotal in explaining the paradox within the narrative because it would be suggested to the audience because from that moment time has gone backwards, virtually no time has passed, or Nera is now on an alternative timeline in which they conquer the sid. Ailill once again tells Nera to prepare himself again so he does. It is important to note that, “at that same hour Ailill and Fergus were playing drafts, when they heard the calf in the plain” (Meyer p. 225, 1889). They battle the calf to ensure it does not ruin the heard, the audience would understand that it’s directly related to Samhain and cattle pricing, so they invade the sid early because of Donn of Cualgne. Indirectly, trapping Nera inside forever after destroying and pillaging the sid. This close reading would suggest that both Halloween and its relation to Samhain directly influence the Echtrae Nerai because of its structure, motifs, themes, and narrative plot points.

Textual Interpretation: Echtrae Chonlai

As scholars interpret the manuscripts of Echtrae Chonlai various cultural influences impact the meaning, message, and overall rhetorical structure of the text. The story itself is derived from Old Irish and Medieval Irish which affect its cultural interpretations and translations because it switches between the oral and written mediums. The manuscript itself was meticulously assembled and translated within a monastery given the technological limitations of the time. The manuscript and its creation consequently tied to Christian interpretations given the period of time which it is dated is around the 8^th or 9^th century. The methods and translation which produced the text takes hint at many Christian influences. However, the similarities between the text and other texts at the concurrent time also show stories’ roots in a pre-Christian Irish culture.

Furthermore, the links between the who produced the text and how it is interpreted highlight the distinctions within the text both in how the text is structured thematically and narratively. These influences effect whether this manuscript can be interpreted as a historical document or a work of fiction as whole. The text directly links certain pagan influences in Irish society to the advent of Christianity at the time of its production is concurrent with the stories’ origin. Therefore, the manuscript can be interpreted as something caught between multiple cultural transitions within the society at the time creating a, sort of, historical work of fiction.

For example, John Carey writes in “The Rhetoric of Echtrae Chonlai” examining the manuscript “Cín Dormma Snechtai” which “Echtrae Chonlai” is derived there is disagreement as to when the text was written but provides insight to some of the oldest surviving stories and motifs (Carey, 42). There are similarities within the “Echtrae Chonlai” that echo that of other stories like the Welsh tale of the Mabinogi while still containing heavily Christian motifs (Carey, 43-45). Additionally, James Carney in “The Location of the Otherworld in Irish Tradition” link “Echtrae Chonlai” to the similar tale of “Immram Brain” its interpretation of the Otherworld. Both texts containing a “mysterious woman ‘from strange lands’” who invited the protagonist to join her in an Otherworld “paradise” at sea (Carney, 36). These influences cannot be taken as mere conscience given the manner in which ancient manuscripts were assembled and whom they were assembled by. They provide direct connections between interpreted texts as sharing motifs and ideas around similar geological locations. These similarities created a cultural bypass in which the older stories were adapted as the cultures transitioned toward a more Christian base, while retaining its cultural heritage, creating these in between manuscripts.

Additionally, these new Christian influences are reflected within the stories structure and interpretation by both the manuscript writer and the interpreter. To begin the land in which the woman describes herself as hailing from in “Echtrae Chonlai” is described as being a land, “of the living where is neither death nor sin nor transgression” (Echtrae, 207). Already paralleling the biblical interpretations of paradise amongst the “king of kings” as well as contrasting the realm in which Conle the red resides. Later, she continues by saying, “If you follow me, your beauty will not lose its youth or its beauty till the pertaining to visions Day of judgement” (Echtrae, 207). These statements further parallel the beckoning of Christian thought of salvation and eternal life in heaven. Next, comes from the rejection of the druid and his beliefs as, “He will destroy the charms of … druids in the sight of the evil spirit, the black sorcerer” (Echtrae, 207). This can be seen as the Christian faith finding its place within the current cultural climate and it begins to establish itself as a form of salvation not of the body but of the soul. It flips the motif and shapes the world of Conle as a fallen world.

Conle is shown as accepting the woman’s offer through the gift of the “apple” and abandon the world and the people from which he came to follow the woman to the land of eternal life. Carey interprets the woman as, “having escaped the downfall of Adam and Eve–a Christian interpretation of the native Otherworld reflected in other features of her speech” (Carey, 45). This is backed up by his interpretation of the phrase “tír na mbéo” describing it as a “straightforwardly Christian expression” (Carey,46). By showing that Conle becomes totally transfixed by the women and the apple which replenishes itself the text forms a clear distinction between the worlds which Conle and the Women reside. It creates a narrative which overtly favors the “Otherworld” over the present reality of Conle, and, consequently, the desire within the story to abandon all that is tied to it for the pursuit of this “Otherworld.” Kim McCone in Pagan Past and Christian Present in Early Irish Literature targets this specific trend within manuscripts interpretation as “hybrid texts” while in dialogue with Mac Cana. McCone highlights the use of “dualistic view” of the stories incorporating both traditional and Christian cultures (McCone, 79.) These interpretations show that there are heavy cultural influences on both sides of spectrum as an attempt to bridge the cultural gaps within the region at the time.

These cultural gaps become evident from the interpretation of what and specifically where the “otherworld” is. Carey points out that in Echtrae Chonlai that, “there has been no preparation for such a conclusion” it felt as if, “the theme of an Otherworld voyage appears to be secondary and extraneous” (Carey, 39). Reinforcing his belief that the text might not only be fictitious but an attempt to connect these ideas. He continues by stating that these, “texts are so far as I know the only old Irish sources in which the overseas Otherworld appears” (Carey, 39). Furthermore, he continues by providing evidence of alternative interpretations of the “Otherworld” through “fairy mounds” or “hills” which are “plentiful” in Old Irish sources (Carey, 39). The “Otherworld” in Echtrae Chonlai becomes a contrast rather than a part of the physical manifestation of the world that already is. The interpretation frames it as a far-off world completely contrasted to the world in which we live and not a part of it. Carey highlights the specific use of the phrase, “Day of Judgement” as it reorients not only the messaging but the audiences’ interpretation of story. “The woman now appears as a sort of prophetess of the new religion […] condemning paganism […] (as) she denounces them as servants of the devil” (Carey, 59). These specific motifs used create a new framing that assembles pre-Christian thought through a Christian lens highlighting the historical and fictitious elements within the text.

Thus, the interpretation of the text amongst scholars is disputed as being both hybridization of cultures, interpretation, transition, or a fabrication meant to appear historically accurate given the narrative structure, prose, and word choice within the narrative.

Works Cited:

Meyer, Kuno [ed. and tr.], “The adventures of Nera”, Revue Celtique 10 (1889): 212–228, 520. Corrigenda in Revue Celtique 17: 319.

McCone, Kim, Pagan Past and Christian Present in Early Irish Literature (maynooth 1991[1990 1^st ed.]) pp. 79-82,152,157-8.

Carey, John. “Sequence and Causation in Echtra Nerai.” Ériu, vol. 39, 1988, pp. 67–74. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/30024130.

Ó Coileáin, Seán, “Echtrae Nerai and its analogues”, Celtica 21 (1990): 155–176.

Carey, John, ‘The Rhetoric of Echtrae Chonlai.’ Cambrian Medieval Celtic Studies 30 (Winter 1995), pp. 41-65.

Echtrae Chonlai, ed. and trans. H. P. A Oskamp, Études Celtiques 14 (1974-5), pp. 207-208

homage to the old era,

Joshua Sotello — Wed, 19 Nov 2025 23:23:48 GMT

today I wanted things to be different I wasn’t sure how or what but I also remembered why I wanted it to be that way. I thought a lot about when things were made, and I focused really hard on what I wanted to see, and now you can see it too… create this HTML file and play what I see in my mind.

…/// FEED INITIALIZING///…




    
    
    VOIDERS: Ultimate
    




    
        
        
        
            
                1UP 00
                HI-SCORE 00
            
            WARNING
            
                LIVES: 1
                 
            
        


        
            VOID ULTIMATE
            ARROWS or MOUSE to Fly
SPACE or CLICK to Shoot
            
            
                [S] SPEED UP
                [T] SLOW TIME
                [L] LASER BEAM
                [R] RAPID FIRE
                [W] WIDE BURST
                [M] MIRROR
                [O] SHIELD
                [B] SMART BOMB
                [1UP] EXTRA LIFE
                [XXX] ANTI-LIFE
            
            SUPPLY DROPS EVERY 30s
            
        


        
            MISSION FAILED
            SCORE: 0

Dreams:

Joshua Sotello — Thu, 16 Oct 2025 17:05:43 GMT

Sitting halo hanging above my head

nothing new today

a ring of teeth

an open mouth

hung

This could be the end of me

another pointless game we play

something biting

so hard

doing what you want for the last time

the truth is I got mine

all the things you never said

careless chances cannot end

let’s hear the truth, that we end up dead

everything you said,

“Goodbye”

Trying for so long to make you believe me; “I am not your enemy.”

All these things we’ve taken for granted for the last time

all I wanted is to be what you needed

imagine enemies

lost in your head again

I am

Trying for so long to be imaginary

I forgot what I needed

Now it just doesn’t feel right

sinking into my new animus

my body tells my mind

all the things you should’ve done right

scratched all the hope away

I know there’s nothing I could write

that could make you want me

I couldn’t save the baby

yet there’s no place I'd rather be

I won’t be angry if you leave

I just won’t believe you

and that’s enough to leave you

I know that each one

of these moments is gonna cost us

But this is where

I threw all the love away.

Don’t say sorry

I won’t believe you anyway

Cry now and let it bleed

“you know me”

I’ve got some regrets

but nothing the next moment can’t fix,

never.

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Dreams:

Joshua Sotello — Mon, 13 Oct 2025 14:57:05 GMT

Those Born of duality

bite the forbidden fruit,

Have the consciousness of their mind split

separation from the divine.

At our greatest; still trapped,

Just Victims of mortality,

This world does not exist for us.

Simply brought to our knees by time.

Tick…tock…

tick…tock…

tick…tock

beasts born of blood

left only with a glimmer…

A chance to dabble in consciousness, a glance

rabble of this species’ brood

modern civilization

Blood of man

seeping through stone steps of temples and helmets.

Born

of Fear,

of darkness,

of light,

and all that we cannot escape the wrath of …

nor conquer.

Seeking The Grace of the divine,

in all of its righteousness; and

beauty order in an indifferent world.

Seeking rejecting the beast’s blood

within, sparks humanity

those accidental observers of time

Birthed a world of mad men crying,

“where is god?”

they said,

“God is dead”

They shout,

“Must not we ourselves become god?”

our chance has come Seize the crown… that throne is empty.

Bound to this earth, in this mortal shell.

now given the choice of a god,

the Duality of consciousness…

choice…

freedom…

What “good” and what “evil”?

What Is your choice?

Is it A(n) (A)moral world?

face a world In the land East of Eden,

a world of nod, just wanderers.

So, Shall we choose to reject you too, oh god?

Or, with this knowledge of good and evil

may we enact through you, oh god?

Oh, but We are creatures of our nature, less we forget...

deep within ourselves, in Our minds, in Our desires.

With the dark of void, its cold, dead, and gripping emptiness

What is left?

Once grace is lost

We emulate and Create order through Chaos

That of the highest order, divinity

So we may join that of the blood and body and soul

A Sacrament, so that we may be reborn,

And become akin to you, god.

Amen.

*Cough*

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Alas, even our greatest gestures are but a pittance,

no matter what are actions taken

they are but evanescent to the abyss.

And, try as we might but we are just ants too

Babbling about our mounds and towers, attempting to

ascertain the indifference of the universe,

bound to this floating rock.

Like Sisyphus

left to ride the Hearse.

Rolling, and if we were to ever touch the sky,

Babble, babble, our towers will fall

the eldritch horrors in their truest form, resetting us all

Either it is divine or dreaded

Indifferent to us all

These greatest truths are not meant for these eyes,

time warping space, and that thin layer of reality that we see,

and then everything else we don’t

the unfathomable.

Because we are not gods just caught in-between.

SO! THEN WHAT!

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The Chip Wars

Joshua Sotello — Tue, 07 Oct 2025 15:02:49 GMT

It alls begins to take shape,

slowly these players come to .

leaving us in the dust

these facilities are facsimiles

all constructed to spy on us

The fly wheel corporation buy bits of everyone

under who?

No more rights, no more ownership,

This is red, blue, and green

all under a single fly wheel

infinite recursion bouncing beyond

not for what we need warp speed

but for something beyond our needs

who needs this?

what kind of open air prison?

They sit and say this is what we are using it for,

but we adore and abhor what it is really used for.

The use of these artificial war minds

to warp and bend reality through the use of

organizational

neural matrices

They manufacture consent, control narratives and suppress dissonance

The machine needs to run consistently, continuously, constantly.

This beast optimized to optimize anything that doesn’t work and fit to further optimization it is the goal as if all of civilization were preprogrammed to make this great machine only for it to be wiped away once again by ra, the sun.

This company now imbedding itself further into all of our major manufacturers, into the digital infrastructure, into everyone’s mind.

trading money for shares cutting deals and splitting funding across a variety of owners, the pie cut thick for the new military tech class.

Dreams:

Joshua Sotello — Mon, 29 Sep 2025 14:43:31 GMT

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Every explicit second,

each fragment of time,

every memory,

its placement in our minds pushes us differently swaying our subconscious.

Love, respect, duty, honor, each aspect is reflected in our choices.

With each instance a small chance,

a break if you will,

fragmenting a moment further fracturing our lives in adjacent directions.

A single drop of rain may topple the roof of an aging farm house; something similar occurring in me.

Ripped in half by a single choice, what do I choose?

What is the jelly to my peanut butter? Do I turn to peach preserves, do I choose to invoke a deep southern comfort of both false pleasantries and memories of home?

Or, do I look further west? Do I Indulge in a sweet, sweet, grape or strawberry jam?

I stand here staring, between the aisles with a fist full of quarters, and then she comes.

Walking down the aisle, a quick-sure stride, past me and my creeping anxieties to a mason jar filled with yellow fruit, pineapple huh?

I stare a bit longer than I should have, and as she drops the object into her hand basket she walks away.

She turns to look at me for an instant, we lock eyes.

I scramble for that final yellow filled jar, narrowly escaping the clutches of an elderly woman and her fondness of yellow fruit.

Clutching the yellow, I peak around corners the lines of the aisles slowly blur and I only see her.

A subtle beauty composed of gentle lines and curves, pursed lips and dark eye-brows. She walks out of sight once more, I pursue.

Finally, the moment comes, I meet her at the end of the aisle as she turns to face me.

She blinks and as she opens her eyes again a deep black seeps in, consuming all tenderness, and the void stares back.

I step back and the air is a tarnished yellow,

I drop the jar,

looking down now toward my feet I feel a deep black consuming me too.

I look back up now and she stares at me gently.

A haunting darkness,

shadows creeping out from their insides,

pulling,

tearing everything away.

Where am I? What is this? Where is the world?

Panic follows, but now even my lungs begin filling with a black soot,

a suffocating feeling eating me.

Like rats in the flood, I too, struggling to swim inside something inescapable, I reach out into the nothingness.

Grasping and Gasping; a hand pulls me, and I wake up.

The Koinonia Protocols: Orion

Joshua Sotello — Thu, 18 Sep 2025 02:23:08 GMT

We walked into the theater arm in arm, the walls had red curtains draped ornate with small golden embroideries of gold and silver leaves. The floor was hard wood, it was meant to take us back many years and give us a nostalgic feeling of the old world. We past dignitaries, presidents, not your usual crowd at these sorts of events. Our shoes part of the rhythm of excitement filling the halls as people began filling in row after row coming in for the show.

We had dressed up for the occasion and made sure we came outfitted and armed in case of instances of intense violence. Carbon fiber, no metal, completely undetectable.

Years of relentless training burned that into our brains and after all this time I still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched by something.

The Liberty Movement has exacerbated current tensions between the two ruling fascist groups, and the going out has yet to spill more blood to put the feeling to rest, if anything, it’s gotten worse.

I was told to relax, breathe, and try to enjoy the show.

We were retired from our work and we can focus on starting a family, now far away from turmoil of that life.

We took our seats and the lights slowly began to dim fading slowly to total darkness. The room began to fill with small incandescent particles slowly moving around taking new shapes, beasts of the old world, the famous faces of now dead men and women, melding together to form the branding of the tech giant Orion.

The words faded into a golden dust tasteless, odorless, it was the first time anyone had been allowed to see their new “project,” after the death of the founder John L. Bremer, in person, potential investors were all invited as guests we provided private security.

The presentation began with the company’s new CEO Laura Bremer, who assumed control of the company after the passing of her late husband Mr. Bremer.

The Chip Wars (2025)

Joshua Sotello — Thu, 21 Aug 2025 02:44:20 GMT

COMPLEX CELLS INTERLINKED ON A MOTHERBOARD

Most of the nation states at this point were creating larger super computers to process cyber attacks and degenerate nuclear grids to help destabilize their network structures.

RED, GREEN, BLUE all designated manufactures on the global scale as each grew in complexity and size so did market capitalization; however, BLUE lost the short game as its designs were stolen by RED.

These conflicts created a larger gap in the GPU market which allowed GREEN to consolidate solely on this and dominate the market essentially as a duopoly with RED. slowly consolidating their powers against BLUE.

One day BLUE decides to create something similar to the chips that GREEN gets from the island far away in the pacific, but they still struggle to complete master the technique only creating shabby copies of something so perfect.

BLUE BEGINS TO LOSE HOPE. GREEN CONSOLIDATES FURTHER. RED TAKES WHAT BLUE OWNED.

The president of the united states now has outright banned the sale of advanced artificial intelligence chips to adversarial state bodies. of course that only created the black markets which dominate most of the foreign industries.

these markets are all held by GREEN which has now been eyed by the state for a split. Meanwhile BLUE is becoming nationalized and the domestic producer of all chips, removing the need of labor from the lonely island in the pacific.

THE QUESTION BECOMES DOES THE ISLAND FALL AND WHERE DO THE CHIPS LAND IF RED AND GREEN RELY ON THE LAND IN THE FAR EAST WHILE BLUE LIES IN THE WEST?

The governing bodies state subsidies revive what the market deemed doomed. Defensive production on a nation scale.

Wafers cut by Ultra Violet.

THE GREEN cuts a piece of BLUE.

A piece of insurance for later, a game of corporate espionage.

they are now setting up infrastructure to directly compete with TSCM chips and new supply lines for manufacturing to get around the bottle neck infrastructure they had seen around the pandemic UV printing newer chips that are built to scale while simultaneously...eating away at AMD's market share and GPU/CPU market since both companies have seen them rise like a phoenix from the pits RED becomes a buy as you essentially see a duopoly beginning to form slowly as GREEN and BLUE form an alliance, but for how long?

Summers in Maryland: Part II (abridged)

Joshua Sotello — Thu, 24 Jul 2025 19:11:11 GMT

IV

I know for a fact that everyone woke up feeling the heat, the air had that thick feeling of humidity without airflow, the cabin was so hot without AC, and I hadn’t felt this in a long time. Everyone was already moving about before I even got up, and they worked super hard to try to get a feel of the space. I was trying to remember everything we needed to do today and this is one thing I wanted to make sure actually happened by the time we left vibe camp, but capturing what was important was another thing entirely.

How do you explain something that seeks to be open to interpretation? What causes a bunch of random people from the internet to suddenly decide that meeting that person is worth traveling from every corner of the world for; just leaving, or taking whatever, and spend some time over there. Or, it just felt like where ever they are coming from to get here for just a weekend made it feel special, a physical kind of unique.

Before we get started Let me preface with an apology. This was the only day that I got absolutely plastered, like white paint on asphalt hammered, just totally smeared. That being said my memory was a little hazy at certain points around the beginning and near the end here and there, but let’s begin.

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The rain poured down hard that day and it felt like the heat broke away for a moment. Today was the day to do some preparations as we missed grabbing some items and our party had not yet arrived. We tried to figure a solution out for what was to going to happen with filming and made sure to find who wanted to be filmed, and how to process everything, we needed software to make sure their faces were blurred and their privacy respected.

I got to drive into town. The crew needed an asortment of times: fans, bathroom supplies, bed sheets, a variety of objects and bobbles that we had to get from the store. So we made sure to pack the car with everything and everyone. Everything went smoothly for the most part a few human errors here and there, but, overall, just a quick trip. We only had a small list of items, truly, but we had to get going before more people showed up to camp, and we needed to make sure that we were back there before everything began.

The first place we ended up at was the giant blue building that doesn’t even use their smile logo anymore. Everything in this place felt like it was still somewhere in the 2000’s like inside this store most of life hadn’t reached yet. Akin to stepping back in time, everyone was so lovely, nice and helpful. I got a different set of clothes so I could feel a little cleaner given the amount of time we were about to spend in a wooden box. I am definitely more of a Bevo kind of guy but Testudo, I am in your country now.

We made our way outside the store to sit in the Wagoneer, and wait for the rest of the campers to their collect their belonging, and gather items that they needed departing once again as we do not step foot outside of camp for days after this! A quick detour for more things and Baja Blasts from Taco Bell. This time they had a special frozen flavor with dragon fruit and for some reason it felt like summer. Another quick turn around for something to smoke and some gasoline and we were finally back in the country.

On the road back to “Vibe Camp” as they say everything felt happy and green like the downpours just soaked everything enough to wake it back up and then gone clear skies. It appears that the campers have begun their arrival. New vehicles lined the mud lain field patches of grass mixed with small tire pits covered the field. Trees dumping pollen and fresh puddles dotting the ground. We tried to pull everything out in groups fans, sheets, pillows, everything to make the quality of life go way up. I had some time so I made new friends and checked the place out. Everyone here seemingly knew something about this place and it was odd not understanding anything beyond this was a summer camp for individuals. A “vibe camp” it almost felt like a horror story, something akin to a parody like Scary Movie but when I got to talking with more people I was so pleasantly surprised.

This is where it all came together. The camp itself: the white house, the barn, flattop, gazebo, cabins, the teahouse, pool, stage, campsite fires, ponds (frogs included), a literal text book trebuchet, and the flat top where we had to meet for the welcome announcement since it was officially the first day! The most important thing was understanding what the story was here, and what made this place so special to so many people, and what creating the space meant; but also trying very hard to not put any labels on anything because of the extensive thought put into creating a space for individuals out of utopia, or no where. Carrying all that shit down the hill basically soaked me in sweat and that was the hottest experience I had up north beyond being in New York City during that insane heat wave, that I had ever felt, and I am from the south I know the expression, “it’s not the heat! its the humidity!” When we finished setting up the fans created a sort of wind tunnel in rooms which made a lot of the experience significantly more bearable. They do make a racket though.

I want to preface this as the day began to shift into night, and we a coordinated separately. Normally these things are planned, there’s a bunch of stuff that goes into pre-production, and there’s a huge thing that you have to do. Most of the time it is also create as bureaucratic studio nonsense that people use to make filming a hassle. We cut all the red tape this time just to see what we could create with willing participants. That is the question we are trying to answer betwixt all of these endeavors. Who knows what will happen? Until then we are trying our best to not muck things up.

It seemed like everyone was filming different things. No idea what to expect here and overall it has seemed really friendly but tonight was the first night. I met up with everyone later that evening. I wandered around the area a bit and debated where to set up my hammock and I eventually settled on some trees by the pool they were close enough it made sleeping in the breeze easy. But I felt really nervous about leaving it anywhere so I just waited.

“Make sure you’re at the big top tonight and try to get your badge!” rung in my mind.

So I wandered around more before, finding where everything was and what I needed to do and where I needed to go. “Texas!” someone shouts at me as I am wearing a UT themed shirt, “You can all go to hell, and I’ll go to Texas.” I got my badge business sorted out make sure everything was put away, and I was clean for the day. I do all of this before finding out I had to go back to the place that they moved all the badges. I was so late sometimes.

We had to make sure we met up at the the top of the hill in the building with the wooden floors, but it had been raining so a lot of the ground was filling with water. I tried to avoid the puddles. I got my badge a while earlier, Arcanejuice is said, my moniker and what I used before I went offline. The room was enormous and filled with people I was surprised as to the sheer number of participants it felt small at first but everyone seemed to find their own spots within the camp.

Three rules of practicing social engagement within the community:

A Request
A Denial
A Goodbye

A “high trust” for individuals to understand that the space was there for them to interact and create community outside of the liminal in-betweens. Everyone practiced their lines with one another and we listened as they introduced themselves and inducted everyone into the Vibe Camp ‘25, the fourth iteration. The beginning of the organizational structure as now events would take place from then on and a variety of people would just do things and anyone that wished to participate could.

I sat and listened to the other crew discuss their documentary and why and thoughts about things that I wasn’t familiar with yet.

This is where the painting starts to smear folks, as the night drew to a close there were a few things that still needed to be done but everyone was excited, more filming, more confusion, some logistical issues that could have been worked out. I met new people practicing new skills they wanted to share or just sharing what they like, people from other parts of the world, and people who where right here with me in Texas. This was interesting. I had met someone who spent a lot of time curating a space for discussion and offered plenty of free drinks. The conversations were immaculate, in some instances, which made it curious you really don’t know who you’re talking to here sometimes you do. The encampment was set up like a canopy of interlocking tents and chairs; a bar on the side switching between French press by day and liquor by night. Extremely imaginative and peaceful purpose created by the pond.

I let myself get a bit carried away, that night was lucid, sorry, too much absinthe will do that to you. Forgetting we are in the woods. Strange talks with new people under the warm light of lamps, fireflies, and camping chairs.

V

The morning came around too quickly. I had set up a hammock in-between the trees. I tried to find everyone, I didn’t have access to the schedule, so I was operating entirely on vibes. I found myself rushing around between places the days mixed up. It was actually glorious I slept in the hammock for hours. Evidentially, no one could find me as they were asking where I was all morning. Oops.

Saturday was a whirl wind of interviews and running around between sets, trying to catch up with everyone while simultaneously nursing one of the worst hangovers I have ever had. I had not yet tried the horse electrolytes. This was supposed to be a blended day where we would have certain recordings made of people who wished to commemorate their event for documentary purposes.

What do you care to admit? what are you vibe camp confessionals? We had a variety of people take the seat. A small room in the cabin, lightly dusted with the dirt of the great outdoors. I found someone at the camp to let me borrow their artwork as they apparently had been painting for years and left them inside the mess hall. A grand tropical display of leaves and flowers. Everyone sat in the foldable chair with bright white lights illuminating everything in crisp 4K.

It got so complicated trying to organize and properly time everyone especially when everyone was vibing. Intermitted creation betwixt vibes. A lot of enlightening views mainly trying to find the place Vibe Camps has within everyone’s lives. Many people spoke of the opportunities to connect with others they had only heard of online, an attempt to create genuine bonds within community, so this space was for people to be themselves. I found myself in conversations with people from all over the world.

The desire to create something that is an institution with enough cultural weight that people find it interesting enough to try to attend something unlike yet akin to what Burning Man is while not being it. I have never been to Burning Man, but my Gen-X and Boomer colleagues seem to think it is all the rage. But to me, Vibe Camp was it.

Most of my day was spent talking to a variety of people who had attended prior Vibe Events. That was very fun I got some ideas of who enjoys coming to these events and some exposure to a part of twitter I had not yet known. We were going to try to complete some more sets but most of the filming that day focused on interviewing people before the Summer Solstice.

Most my morning was spent attempting to remain conscious or by the pool freezing from my blood not performing the necessary duties. I sat in the pool. The gathering had been planned prior I had wandered away to lay down in the hammock for a bit. I ended up falling asleep for a few hours, and woke up right before the show.

On the tree hung a wind charm, you could tie little shells with mantras written in permanent markers there. I grabbed one and sat down. The crew was down at the bottom getting ready for the event setting up, preparing cameras, laying wire, and framing their shots. I watched as they all set up, and the evening approached.

The band was ragtime style crew of cowboy chord playing bohemian types. MY kind of people. I’ll keep on dancing. The set was gorgeous timed toward sending away the summer as the sun shifts slowly in position in the prime meridian. Everyone singing along to the campfire sets, mandolins humming in the background from other events, the blend of all these different groups coming together to form this community. There was something magical about how the summer felt that night. The sunset that evening to songs set around bringing people together even if it were for just a moment.

We made our way around the back as we had a few more things to record but we were stopped, because the crowd decided that it was time to shut the camera off and close the lenses. The moment to live was now and we were here and alive, which meant disconnecting to connect with the people present.

Everyone met at the mini-base camp by the top of the hill, placed right under Ursa Major, convenient. The party begins, everyone cheers, drink me. The night wobbles more than ever. We drop one of the largest bombs on Iran, yet everything kept spinning. A strange night. More things shifting around like sand on dunes. The feeling was a bit euphoric, I found myself wandering from group to group listening to stories of people and their tragedies. Everyone seeking connections and the fulfillment of a promise.

I wandered to the shore to listen to a man speak to other men about how to get the those feelings out without totally self emulsifying. It seems like this struggle faced by men in modernity lack the intimacy and experiences necessary to pass those skills to younger generations and we find ourselves now around a fire trying to assess the damages. We found solace in seeking connection, I am glad to have met you and if we never speak again, please write me something in this small black book, and I can read later for me to remember you by.

It was a nice spot to smoke at. The sun setting more as fireflies dot the pond and the frogs begin to speak of their day. I decided to wander more around the camp, visit the tea house, and take a moment to gather my constitution. My feet took me all around, my eyes just trying to catch everything to remember, and I found myself checking on my friend. Laying face first in the pillows of the tea house he seemed to finally find some peace, he looked like he was finally able to actually sleep after some years, you know when you can never really rest after all the places your body has been? This moment felt like a hard reboot on the personal terminal. I got some hot tea, I was trying hard to not grind my teeth or let the anxiety bleed out.

My hands stopped shaking and I found something there that I think we have a hard time creating outside in the real world. Grounding in a third space. The energy brought me back and I felt reconnected to all of the emotions and thoughts running through my head. This had all been more than I could really handle. Even ending up here at Vibe Camp sometimes felt like I didn’t belong but every moment ended up welcoming in new people that did find a create space for me which felt good, really good.

I got up eventually after binging some tea, my mouth got so dry. I walked by the pool at night and crawled into my hammock to try to get through Frank Herbert’s introduction to Dune. Butlerian Jihad today! Have you read Nueromancer? The first book was my favorite. The movie adaptation of Messiah will be biblical. Underneath everything here and all the fun conversations there was something else, a deep darkness. I watched the sky that night and you could see comets streaking across the sky, it was dark enough to see the milky way without a telescope, and at this point I couldn’t sleep. I found my self reading with my red-light in the hammock for hours.

The sun started to rise and it held a light halo in the horizon for a few hours before finally breaking through. I rolled out the hammock and left all my stuff I had gathered inside, apples and oranges, just some fruit I had squirreled away for a snack later… my shoes. I found myself by the water again as they began their morning brew, the set up was mesmerizing it felt like it never stopped as it shifted between barista and bar services. I helped grab some water and drank a hot cup of Joe.

We all sat around for a bit to talk and see what’s up and how everyone else’s night went as we have reached the final day. More interviews.

TALES FROM SAN GABRIEL: Vol. 1

Joshua Sotello — Sun, 20 Jul 2025 04:15:36 GMT

What, what do I say? Do I even respond? How should I respond? This is causing more trouble than it’s worth...UGH, I just need to get out of here. Where do I go? coffee. I need to wake up. I need to focus. Oh, but wait no, I don’t want to go alone I’ll look weird. Maybe Ben might wanna go. MAYBE he might be able to help. 12:00AM. so I’m just going to wake him up. I’m thinking too much, Time to go.

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“It’s a little rainy.” I muttered to myself, with a tinge of contempt and began walking down to my car. Ah little hero you terrible old machine. How long is Ben going to take? He’s probably going to be late. It was a bit weird as I was walking down, I swear at a glance there was someone watching me. My “Hero” the one and only, not really, my very own black ‘69 Volkswagen Beetle, it was a fairly modest car nothing special other than it managing to outlasting its time. Rust around the fenders, a few “dings” here and there, it’s funny because in a way I respect the old. All that is left over the stuff that managed to survive this long, it’s sad really. To go this long and have so much to do, and be at a point where you can do pretty much nothing. Where was I? oh yeah. After struggling with the blasted door lock, and then fiddling with about three more on the inside I manage to finally get going. Maybe I’m the one is going to be frickin’ late. Eventually with the road in my rear view mirror... who is that? I’m probably seeing things. I need to get it together this is getting out of hand. aw jesus. Forget about it. The roads were nice, dimly lit, kind of like that deep luminescent glow from a fire nestled in the mountains. It was of course nothing like that but it was calming in a sense, a peculiar warmth. I miss home. The roads here are torn down, the infrastructure here is shaky at best, I’m actually kind of surprised that on this little trek I haven’t collapsed into a flooded pothole destroyed poor hero. This rain is getting worse. Why did I do this now? Although the coffee shop...It burned like the end of cigarette in dark, scorching through most of the rain, salvation at last. Maybe I can start fixing some of this. How could I mess it up that bad? Pulling up the rain was finally in downpour, and ben’s car wasn’t anywhere in sight. I ended up looking around for a bit, I haven’t been to this side of town in a while but ben insisted that we visited this dumb coffee shop. I guess that had something to do with it being open in the middle of the night. “Coffee” right off Martin Luther King Boulevard, funny little place the only thing lit up was its emblem. A phoenix laid inside souring out only to be encased in light.

It was of course nothing like that but it was calming in a sense, a peculiar warmth. I miss home. The roads here are torn down, the infrastructure here is shaky at best, I’m actually kind of surprised that on this little trek I haven’t collapsed into a flooded pothole destroyed poor hero. This rain is getting worse. Why did I do this now? Although the coffee shop...It burned like the end of cigarette in dark, scorching through most of the rain, salvation at last. Maybe I can start fixing some of this. How could I mess it up that bad? Pulling up the rain was finally in downpour, and ben’s car wasn’t anywhere in sight. I ended up looking around for a bit, I haven’t been to this side of town in a while but ben insisted that we visited this dumb coffee shop. I guess that had something to do with it being open in the middle of the night. “Coffee” right off Martin Luther King Boulevard, funny little place the only thing lit up was its emblem. A phoenix laid inside souring out only to be encased in light.

Despite this complete dread for the rain, it was that bad. I’m lying to you it was THAT BAD. However, I could care less at this point. I have more contempt for myself than the world around me.

Thanks for reading Arcanejuice! This post is public so feel free to share it.

TALES FROM THE WILDS: Wolves Part I

Joshua Sotello — Thu, 17 Jul 2025 17:42:56 GMT

You will need to be informed that you’ve been lied to. We as children are protected from life because it is comfortable, and we change the stories too mystical and outrageous. Seal the lips telling them and hide the fates of the men and women behind mystery to protect the mind and the general public. These tales stay cloaked in mythic so many can die and live with sense of safety, and so the creatures of the night may stay in nightmare. It’s such tales that sometimes find themselves in memoirs like this where myth meets reality and the veil rips. The dust is settling and the veil is torn, you’re just lucky enough to get a glimpse into something that will never see the light of day past this very moment.

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10/ 6/ 1849, Outskirts of Baltimore: “We find ourselves far from our homes in search of creature that comes in the night, Swiftly taking victims leaving no trace. Wilhelm and I haven’t seen anything like it, It’s completely unlike the lycanthrope of Germany. It’s smarter. Much smarter, I fear we’ve stumbled onto something we are very unprepared to face.” End of entry.

The forest lay silent cloaked in snow and the light of the moon, pale and blue, we begin to focus in and the world slowly closes in. Focus now on a man crouching, dark brown coat with a shotgun by his feet, he rummaging through his pack in search of his kit.

“Despicable, I thought these creatures would have some decency leave something other than the blasted hood. It would certainly make hunting the damned thing much easier.” Jacob sighed, standing over the torn remains of a blood red hood. There was a rustling of the bushes and a quick and swift entrance of Wilhelm Grimm, shorter, lighter haired, black coat and rucksack on his back. “ I can’t seem to find any signs of the girl and there hasn’t been any other signs of struggle, what do you think it could be?”

Outskirts of Baltimore: “We find ourselves far from our homes in search of creature that comes in the night, Swiftly taking victims leaving no trace. Wilhelm and I haven’t seen anything like it…

“There’s only one thing it can be, if it were a Lycan we would have at least had something more to work with. No, this is something different smarter.” Jacob stood up examining the cloak.

“Jacob, I think we need to head back into the city, we have no idea what we are trying to kill and we do not need it killing us before hand.” Wilhelm, generally didn’t venture too far into much of the unknown as his brother did. After being hexed by a witch burdened him with a severe illness that left him weakened his entire life, he tended to stick with inventions than the detective work his brother performed. Him found himself here because they were good at hunting as a team and riding whatever hellish evil found it’s way too far into the day. Waiting for a response Wilhelm couldn’t shake the most acute feeling. “fine.” Jacob broke his focus and gestured to gather the limited equipment.

The Silence broke with each step the brothers made back to safety, anxiety and uncertainty spiked the duo didn’t know where to begin. As the reach the cobblestone paved streets of Baltimore the inn peaked into view, Braziers lit with the fire roaring faintly they entered. A man, who appeared drunk, laid sleeping in the corner by the fire, Wilhelm stared at the man for a brief moment and continued, the innkeeper was no where in sight, the room doors shut, and the bar closed. They continued to their room and a deafening silence followed the door closing, the man whom laid sleeping rose blood splatters covered his cloak, he stumbles to his feet and stuffs a little book into his pocket.

The brothers lay wake, a single candle illuminating the hard wood room. Beds paralleling each other covered in simple white patterned covered sheets, and wall paneled with a single window facing the outskirts of town and the forest to follow. In the middle stood a desk and chair with the candle atop, Jacob sat writing in a small book, While Wilhelm laid looking up counting the wood knots.

Finally Jacob whispered, “I’m not sure what to expect, hell, I’m not even sure we’ll be able to find it or even survive.”

“You shouldn’t talk like that, besides you’ve got me.” Wilhelm, spoke in a slightly dishearten tone.

“Well I know that but still it was stupid to come so soon.”

“Bah, you’ve said before ‘a good friend doesn’t let you do stupid things alone’, and I’m your brother so quit, I may not be much help but I’m here”

“I just hope we can find it and kill it fast enough before it can take another.” Jacob sat back, In that very moment a large thud echoed through the inn. Wilhelm sat up immediately and they stared at each other.

“Do you think it found us?” Wilhelm spoke in a hushed voice.

“Maybe, did you notice anything on the way back?” Jacob sat unmoving.

“That man.”

“What?”

“There was a man laying in the corner near the fire.”

“Oh, He wasn’t moving when we got in but I assumed he was just passed out drunk.”

“Why would the innkeeper allow him to stay? Also, The innkeeper was no where to be found, and despite the fire this place has been giving off generally creepy vibes.”
“Well you could have said something sooner!” Jacob exclaimed as he quietly mouthed the statement as best as he could. His gestures filling the air.

Jacob predominantly stayed focused on a single topic intensely and ignored much of everything else until he found a solution or conclusion. His brother had to be eyes and ears at these points in a moments notice, because Jacob tended to drift and Wilhelm had picked when it happens. At this point in time, a tremendous slam hit the door and the room shook, another followed and the door began to crack.

“It found us.” Wilhelm began to panic.

“Quick! Grab the weapons!” Jacob dove for the packs under the beds, tossing Wilhelm’s inventions up the revolving shotgun and hidden “pistol blades”. These curious inventions are supplied by no other than Wilhelm Grimm, because he tended to nothing else but tinker with what he already knew, weapons. After being crippled by the hex and bedridden for four years, Wilhelm had plenty of time to perfect his killing concepts and weapon effectiveness. Jacob managed the find and hunt the witch with Wilhelm’s inventions, and promptly slay her. That, however, is a story for another time. After a third blow the hull of the door cracked, and the creature shoved and arm through clawing at the brothers.

“Hah!” Wilhelm quickly slashed at its arm, it shrieked.

“Well at least we know silver can still hurt the thing.” Jacob quickly exhaled and broke the door into the second floor hallway. It was bleak and short dark, dried, sunken wood panels and oil lanterns on both sides. It stood at the end of the stairs staring, Jacob flung up the gun and shot, It reacted faster and darted down the stairs. Jacob and Wilhelm followed in earnest.

“At least we aren’t dead yet, and We’ve found it. maybe.” Wilhelm panted trying to catch his breath.

“Focus on killing it, we can talk later” Jacob quickly began searching what now seemed like a dungeon, the fire was dying and a strange cold filled the room. They searched and this time they knew they were being watched, patiently staring the brothers stood waiting.

Another shriek and it burst through the inn keeper’s room door and sprang at them, startling Wilhelm pushing him into the wall disorienting him, and ripped the shotgun from Jacob breaking his arm then swiftly throwing it and him over the bar. Then It began its pursuit of Wilhelm.

Confused with vision blurred, Wilhelm found it hard to make out the noises around him, he could barely make out where he was at the moment as well. A blurred figure slowly began stumbling toward him shoving whatever obstruction and toppled furniture out of the way. Jacob began yelling to gain a grasp on his brother attention and force him back into consciousness. Wilhelm shook his vision clear but he was too late. It finally reached it’s target.

He struggled but the thing was much stronger than he, although he looked human not beast nor serpent. It lifted him up pushing him upward against the wall trapped.

“what are you?” Wilhelm asked.

“there are some secrets that do not permit themselves to be told.” It spoke back.

“Ah, A poet I see, I’d ’ve never had thought there would come a day I would see

this.” Wilhelm spat out.

“The day has yet to come and the light is dying, our time will soon be upon the likes of man once more.”

Those words echoed in Wilhelm’s mind and he became paralyzed with fear, as the creature continued to speak, Jacob caught his eye. Moving slowly into position Jacob began to align a shot, and it alarmed Wilhelm further and he began preparing pistols. The trick they had performed before on the more intelligent half-human creatures, this thing they may have never seen before but it bled, and if it could bleed it could die. Jacob and Wilhelm swapped positions but the plan was still the same, divert attention and rip it’s heart out. As the creature began to finish and tighten its grip around his neck slowly killing him, a shot was fired and it dodged quickly turning to Jacob.

“You’re dead.” Jacob said staring down the creature. The creature lunged and quickly Wilhelm shot every round he had into it’s back. It stood motionless staring at Jacob, he stared back and shot it through the heart. It collapsed and a book fell out with the name “Edgar” written on the inside of the front cover.

TALES FROM THE RED PLANET: Ithaca

Joshua Sotello — Tue, 15 Jul 2025 20:21:03 GMT

I am going to try to make this as fun as possible, maybe throw in a joke or two. I want you to leave here knowing that you learned something, and that now you can somehow better yourself or have more options. So, here’s the story it started like any other day of the week sometime in mid-September. Near the end of summer, It was cold outside and the air started to get that thick wet feeling. What is that wet? Can anything truly be wet or does it just have water on it? My air just caught in various amounts of water, what life left me with every breath I took pushing further through time.

I wanted to get out of that f*cking house because I could not stand it anymore. My head burned and I didn’t know where else to go that night but you know what they say! F*ck it. I walked faster and the shoes I wore scraped loudly against the asphalt that the community would call “roads.” I looked down and felt my pockets for my lighter and I lit one up. The trees around me shifted with the smoke. I wanted to cool off a bit, the creek ran cold all the time here, but especially in winter. I followed the noises of water and wind through the trees as it got darker and colder, I was swept in by the incubus the lure of the wild.

I could hear my mom’s boyfriend yell out my name, and the flashlight cutting in the trees behind me, and the sun fell beneath the tree line and the beams of light poked further through every crack, and the silver simmer of eyes in the brush popped out. The sounds of something moving around the brush as the forest took over the sound of wind as it settled. I could hear footsteps behind me getting louder as they rushed to where I was just moments before. he yelled, visibly frustrated that he had lost me again he slammed the flashlight hard against the tree leaving a mark and denting the metal tubing that held the instrument. It flickered as if in pain too. I tried calm breathing so he couldn’t hear that holding my breath and letting it all out slowly, and I slid my hands down to touch the forest floor. I felt a rock by my feet and I inched further to pull it into my grasp, and toss it away from me. Maybe I could scare him away. I closed my eyes to throw it hard enough that he could hear it and in that final moment a hand caught my wrist.

“You think you’re smart you little s—t,” His hand tightened around my wrist and he pulled me back out of the ditch I had been hiding out in. Marcus was only a little bit older than my mom and my “dad” even less. I don’t know if he was even ready to be a man yet. He held me there on the edge for a second before letting go, he locked eyes with me, and then said nothing. He pushed me in front of him and then told me to walk and he will follow. We needed to get back before it got too dark, he hated this place. The soft crunch of leaves filled the forest floor. The pace hummed in rhythm with the noises of the wild life around us. Cicadas and crickets chirping as the night slowly began to arrive.

Our pace picked up more when the car was in sight, the lights were still on, he left it running I guess. I was an old car and he had tried to keep it’s shine even after all these years of use. I got back into the passenger’s seat. The two screens shifted their attention to us and he put in where we were going. It’s silent wheels curled slowly around in circles and the blades in the wheels help pull the machine forward faster. It was silent and Marcus had decided to play some old music from the 60’s he would never shut up about how things were and how bad everything is now. The screen in the car flicked to the news and he tapped his fingers nervously at every sentence. These laws they were passing would make or break his career, and he knew it, we all knew it.

Our pace picked up more when the car was in sight, the lights were still on, he left it running I guess

The house had a quiet haunting shimmer, like a mirage, the air of being alive felt too bourgeois, it had a waterfall. The car pulled up and we got out and it left to be with it’s clones doing work carrying people places that we would never see. He told me it’s how things were, and it’s not how they have to be but just because that’s how they’ve been made to be. I didn’t know what he meant. We walked further toward the door of the house and lights traced our movements, and these things were there to greet us before walking inside. They didn’t look human, their faces had been covered and the skin that showed had bits of metal. It’s face changed with a screen underneath the mask. Asking how I was and If I needed anything. I tried to stop looking at it, and my gaze locked with the eyes underneath. I felt the breath leave my body, my neck snapped forward and I felt more sweat drip across my back.

Marcus pushed me forward hard to get my attention and my focus on this shit that rich people do. He walked on, “did you see Janet anywhere I brought her son back, little prick.” The words were caught in the discourse of the party.

POEMS FROM THE WILDS:

Joshua Sotello — Sun, 13 Jul 2025 22:05:00 GMT

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All great in former glories 

the tales whom stories 

of horror and spite persist


met with others more Grimm 

that leave hearts dim

and eyes whiter than cyst.



Through twists of fate or folly 

Death knocks, twice, and follows

but sometimes those twists and follies 

have yet to be told in a time be jolly




torching texts temperature peaking: 451 then done;

burning books like yours and poems like this one.



these demons left to prey,

breeding imagination,

feeding revolution,

a Grimm sight

darkest night

brighter.

Crumbling of the American Soul (2016)

Joshua Sotello — Sun, 13 Jul 2025 22:00:53 GMT

“Torture destroys the soul of the torturer even as it destroys the body of its victim. The boundary between humane treatment of prisoners and torture is perhaps the clearest boundary on existence between civilization and barbarism”
Jonathan Schell 1.

Gaining national coverage as the story broke, the shock and awe that surrounded the photographs that emerged from Abu Ghraib only scratched the surface of what would be done in the name of safety. The only real glimpses of what occurred within that facility came paired with smiling faces in the foreground. Many of those people who were appalled by the nature of these sadistic actions conducted by fellow American’s on other human beings almost seemed like fiction. The very photographs embodying events that occurred in a far off land with nameless faces distanced us from them, and what was happening in those rooms; however, in this instance those faces wore a uniform…a U.S. military uniform. Although, it is difficult to resist the use of torture, given the spectacle that was the September eleventh attacks, especially when the potential lives of thousands more may be at stake.

The U.S. military is never justified in its use of torture on its prisoners for two reasons: the information gained through torture may not be reliable or even useful. Furthermore, the United States has condemned the use of torture by other nations– doing so itself, therefore, is hypocrisy.

leaked images acquired by the AP from 2003

First, although the goal of the military using torture is to gain information, the more painful the torture is, the more significant the desire on the part of the recipient to end the torture. Thus, the detainee may say anything if it means the pain would end. Mark A. Costanzo, a professor at Claremont McKenna College, and Ellen Gerrity, a professor at Duke University, stated that in many torture situations, “The goal [of the prisoner] was to appease the torturer, not to reveal the truth. And, because the interrogators were not omniscient, they could not discern which bits of information were true and which were false” (Costanzo, Gerrity 183)2. Therefore, torture should be deemed inefficient unless the intention is to increase net human suffering.

Second, it is not only useless information that is problematic, but it is the methodology of distinguishing between the innocent and potential suspects is flawed. Costanzo and Gerrity continue to say that many of those seized by the U.S. Government when searching for suspects seem to fit a profile and are, “perceived as suspicious, or [are in] association with known or suspected terrorists” (Costanzo, Gerrity 184). Essentially, this means that any person could be labeled as a terrorist and seized if they fit a profile. As consequence, the situation then becomes a sort of witch-hunt based on fear and unknowing; the more innocent people who are seized means more false information is circulated and then acted upon. The lack of information, and information not necessarily based on fact, causes innocent people to be further subjugated to abuse. It is this sort of confirmation bias that is detrimental to the cause of accurately fighting terrorism, and it increases the potential of a miscarriage of justice. Creating an organism akin to that of the Minority Report.

A specific example is the case of the Guantanamo Bay detainees. Out of the 700 people brought in by the U.S. Government were tortured or detained there, 400 were released or cleared of all charges (Costanzo, Gerrity 184). So what causes this many people to be seized and tortured? Costanzo and Gerrity traced cause back to interrogators training in lie detection. While their training improved their confidence, it did not increase the interrogators’ ability to accurately assess lying. On the contrary, the interrogator believed that those being interrogated were lying more. Thus, those interrogators who are wrong in their judgments are more likely to increase torture to receive an answer that seems like the “truth” (Costanzo, Gerrity 185). The interrogators have no way of knowing the validity of information, so they continue under assumptions and continue to seek information, endangering true justice.

Third, the constant strive for freedom and justice has been the American way and is the foundation of our own beliefs. America has always taken the side of defending and preserving freedom; there has been a sense of dignity to war efforts that this nation has always adhered to. Kevin Toolis, a writer for The New Statesmen, a British political magazine, wrote in regard to Western ethics, “Our war against the enemy is always a righteous struggle against the evil forces of terrorism or oppression. Western soldiers fight with honour and do not rape, torture or indiscriminately murder prisoners” (Toolis 1), which makes U.S. military’s use of torture detrimental to our cause as it does our justifications, particularly in the case of Abu Ghraib a prison in Iraq. Formerly, the facility was in the hands of Saddam Hussein for torturing victims, then acquired by U.S. forces for housing dangerous prisoners…and torture. During this time, both contracted and U.S. officers in charge began their own methods of “enhanced interrogation.” As Toolis put it, in regards to the leading U.S. officer Ivan Frederick, “He ran a regime of terror, sleep deprivation, sexual humiliations and casual beatings at the behest of his military superiors in order to soften up prisoners for those interrogators” (Toolis 3)3. These actions were no better than that of the enemy. It is not only that, but American intentions began to blur. American officials stopped upholding the values that the war intended to bring (i.e. freedom, equality, justice) and on another level allowed for the enemies’ potential justification for torturing American soldiers through emulation.

The American people lose so much “ethically” through the use of torture the moral high ground cannot be regained. The methods are generally unreliable, and if these actions are allowed to continue the American soul will continue to crumble. We must continue to seek alternative solutions to these problems. The United States is a nation of innovators and many new technologies are on the rise, some potentially serving as alternatives to make torture obsolete; one specifically is brain imaging technology.

Development of brain scanning technology should serve as a rational technological example and alterative to unreasonable methods. This new method maps the brain’s reactions to questions and then determines if the subject is lying or being truthful.4 The only issue is that subjects may not cooperate and the technology is only two decades old, which makes it generally unreliable at the moment, which could lead to invasive procedures. However, that does not mean that this technology will not develop further to then serve as an asset to the international community as a whole.

Torture is not a battle of right or left; it is inhumane. We lose the very reason we fight to survive for: people and animals should not be stripped of all dignity and their rights for potentially useless information. That should serve as motivation to seek alternative solutions other than torture to extract critical resources.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ARCHIVED FOR HISTORICAL DOCUMENTARY PURPOSES AND DOES NOT REFLECT MY POLTICAL VIEWS OR OPINIONS IT WAS WRITTEN ENTIRELY AS AN EXERCISE IS CONTRUCTIVE ESSAY FORMATING AND PROSE. I WROTE THIS WHEN I WAS 20.

Schell, Jonathan. "What Is Wrong With Torture." Nation 280.5 (2005): 8. Points of View Reference Center. Web. 29 Jan. 2016.

Costanzo, MA, and E. Gerrity. "The Effects and Effectiveness of using Torture as an Interrogation Device: Using Research to Inform the Policy Debate." SOCIAL ISSUES AND POLICY REVIEW 3.1 (2009): 179-210. Wiley Online Library .Web. 29 Jan. 2016.

Toolis, Kevin. "TORTURE: Simply The Spoils Of Victory? (Cover Story)." New Statesman 133.4687 (2004): 8. Points of View Reference Center. Web. 29 Jan. 2016.

Faulkes, Zen. "Can Brain Imaging Replace Interrogation and Torture?" Global Virtue Ethics Review 6.2 (2011): 55. ProQuest. Web. 29 Jan. 2016

The Koinonia Protocols: Twin Souls

Joshua Sotello — Sun, 13 Jul 2025 00:30:15 GMT

“YOU’LL SEE IT FIRST AT HOME! DIRECT ORDER NOW!”

The voice echoed through the streets from the television display inside the glass atrium. M walked the same street within the market district, every day to go to work, same signs different day. But, this time M’s eyes were quickly drawn to the brightly colored figures dancing on the screen denoting something new on the horizon. Their eyes shifting back and forth trying to not forget the moment. Then turning away to continue the trek to their work.

Months go by.

M finally gets the payout they needed the stocks went up and the dividends are finally working. M shuffles around some funds, dumping some assets, they quit. Shifting between freelance and agent work. Stuck at home, trying to figure out what to do next how to get out. The Truman effect. Stuck in your head and working the same type of job.

New employment, new problems, same city. San Gabriel, a conglomeration of collectives, and boroughs, and entirely different cities all sprawled together into one giant piece in the southwest.

Weeks go by.

As they walked down the street with their back to the sun the day felt different. M’s savings has gotten to highest. Enough now to make moves. The time to buy a place to live, and decide where to go. Find a spot plant roots because nothing it seems has bore fruit here.

Again the noise fills the streets, this time the display different, technology newer,

“STARTING AT PAYMENTS OF $249.99 FOR 78 MONTHS”

The voice got louder inside their head as it continued, echoing throughout the street catching new passerby’s curious with inclinations peaking them enough to check out the looped display. Looming in the distance, M continued on their commute to work as they made their way through the metroplex, past 5th street, and 5th avenue. The rumbling carts blended into the music of their headphones.

Most of the warehouse district was emptier these days as they switched systems over, and now they manage a network of independently-autonomous-agents remotely. Making sure they could still connect correctly, or fix logistical issues, or any “critical failures.” Most of what M’s daily activities were comprised of was this. They were after all more mechanically inclined than technical.

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The next weeks went by quickly.

Online was filled with chatter of different people using the robots in different ways. And, how NEURAL ETHER TETHER, or N.NET, which was built on top of the NET or, Network Exchange Technologies infrastructure since the technology was open sourced had become significantly easier to access. Everything was getting easier, is easier, with all the extra time, and how they’ve simplified most of labor because for some reason they get better every day, or how life can never truly go back to being the way it was. The only way out was through.

The store now stocked full on of these models. All of different shapes, capacities and sizes. This day, however, was special. A special new humanoid type, Kyros. These models had TwinSouls technology prominently featured on the box’s advertisements, and it sat massively on the display inside the glass atrium. Integration of the Koinonia Protocols, computer vision, and full POV from your portal-able-node or (P.A.N).

“NOW ONLY $10,000!”

M couldn’t believe their eyes how could it have gotten so cheap so quickly? Most of the money saved would have gone to trying to find secure housing outside the city, or leaving finally south, and heading out to the country. Bio-organics were all the rage these days, and finding a decent spot out there and getting to connected to the Net-Structure- Array, or N.S.A for short, made it simple and easy to remove capital from the bosses and viceroys of the state.

“finding a spot out there and getting to connect to the net structure array made it simple and easy to remove capital from the bosses and viceroys of the state” generated 12/7/2025

The door chimes as their feet gently pass through the threshold. M bristly grabbing the attention of the clerk, and having them open the plexiglass containers holding the unit. Watching them as they shuffle around with the keys all the while M looking gainfully into all the security cameras to make sure they caught their good side.

“How’s your day going?” M asks.

“Cash or Charge?” the clerk responds.

“Cash,” they say.

The street was scolding hot, and everything that day felt like it was melting, and M struggled to lift the damn thing up off the ground. It was very heavy. Cursing for a cart, they summoned a vehicle to pick up them up and take them back to their condominium building.

The box stood in the center of the room.

M’s roommate H walks into the room,

“What the fuck is that,” they say, “are you totally mad?”

M response, “no.”

They both proceed to unpack the box.

Inside a figure sat curled up in fetal position. Surprisingly smooth, no real defining features beyond the low dim glow of a light in the center of the chest cavity. It sat inert absent of any real human features beyond mass and shape. They stood for a moment and looked.

Was this was really $10,000?

They looked at each other, and as if they shared the same thought, frantically, they began searching for a way to figure out how this thing worked first.

It comes to life.

As if breathing for moment, for the first time, and then pausing. Everyone Screams.

“What the hell was that?” H yells,

“Why did you just turn it on?” M shouts back,

“What do you mean YOU brought me HERE!” K says,

“Yea but aren’t I person that decides when that happens?” M wonders aloud to both of them.

“It’s when you opened the box” K says, then K gets up from the floor after collecting the necessary data from the area to figure out how to stand, and in an instant uses their arms to push up from the ground balancing on their legs, totally bipedal. H continues to stare for moment awe-struck by how quickly and fluid everything was.

Unblinking, “There is no way this real,” H murmurs to themselves before walking off probably to smoke a cigarette somewhere.

M ignoring that comment, continued to focus on what was right in front of them. Something that was the key to the future and survival. Time was not on their side, and many things were against them. The lease was up here soon, and the lords had signaled their intent, they were tearing the building down to build a new skyscraper. They already started having fires last week so holding out isn’t going to be an option any more.

M met H on the subway a few springs back. Watched them try to stop a fight between two rival gangs, and took the shot to keep the peace. Knocked ‘em clean out, woulda probably kill ‘em too if M hadn’t broken their fall. M was so pissed from the interactions they knocked out everyone with NET move. M designed a system targeting optical retinal-matrixes, or S.T.O.R.M, and it helped get them back to the an impact center, so they could stop the bleeding, or that might have been it.

“You want to save those head injuries for when they count most, I always say…that and when you go for the shot aim with your forehead then lean into it, right by the hair line so you aren’t totally cooked by the end of it.” M said laughing as they pressed their palm into H’s side.

The next morning, they both wake up to the sound of running water and the clanking dishes. There is a song playing from H’s record collection. The two open their eyes look at each other from across their barrack style living quarters. A subtle sense of terror and joy came over both of their faces as they began to laugh from the gut until it hurt, and M fell from bed.

Getting dressed now, and playing music of a different tune in the bathroom, everything was clearer now with the help of K. It seemed like they were working all night to make sure that the unit was absolutely spotless in the morning, tasks written on the refrigerator, and circled twice, but never gotten back to completed like clockwork.

But, that’s not really why K is here. We all know that.

The digital windows shined with propaganda as the glasses replaced what was visible in front of M.

The world now filled with different instructions, texts, images, and advertisements. Paying for these glasses, at first,was worth every thing now. With the help of K actualizing this dream they are now just few steps closer to manifesting it into reality.

Thanks for reading Arcanejuice! This post is public so feel free to share it.

“NEW RELEASE ON THE NET TWINSOULS UPDATE SCHEDULED: JULIO”

Totally forgot to log in yesterday! M’s hands meet their face as they groan in exhaustion about forgetting. We were both so hung up on K that plugging in never happened. Their hand tracing their hair back behind their ears, caressing a scar on the back of their neck.

“TOTAL SYSTEM RESET” Flashes away in an instant.

M goes to work today feeling different, a little happier even, a subtle break in the loop. Everything moves quickly today, mind is set on other things, flashing through forums, and checking out posts about the new release for Twinsouls. We shouldn’t have to worry as much about the water and electricity tokens now. Now, we can focus on mining within the N-NET space.

Rent is due at the end of every week, or else they lock us out of the unit until it is paid, and the number doesn’t go down, it just turns into a storage with your name on the contract until it is paid, and the bill tagged under you on the N-NET. So to get around all of that everyone usually has to pay the entire year at once, or build a space.

The metro was filled today with a variety of people. A group gets on in tactical gear. Private security. Everyone in the train shifts to one side, a single individual walks onto the platform with a Unit-K following behind, this one looked different though.

Eye contact, briefly, just for moment, before the gentleperson seemingly turned away noticing anything beyond their sphere. M became rigid, trying hard to not move, or tremble, or wait to long, or not move at all and seem suspicious.

You can’t take the glasses off you only look away from moment.

M tumbles into the unit, physically drained, K brings food and water to them as if they knew the nourishment was needed.

“The night will be spent on N-NET and the plan is not to log until we hit our quota for today, and everyone is going to be online, so the guild needs to rush the areas. That is the main prerogative we find hottest areas, crowd the resources to try to push deeper into the new environment hopefully we can map it before anyone else, and… PK if you have to but only out of necessity.”

Player Killing is a taboo practice these days, M plugged in to the chair and pulled the AGRs Goggles over their head. Augmented Generative Reality systems logo appearing in front as if it were in the room with them shifting everything quickly into a liminal space.

Summers in Maryland: Part I (abridged)

Joshua Sotello — Fri, 11 Jul 2025 21:25:26 GMT

Astrophytum asterias in bloom rendered in watercolor

I

I’ll be honest, I had no idea what to expect when coming out here for summer camp. I’d been living in Austin for almost a decade now. So, I’d like to preface with that, and provide a little background about where I am coming from. Mentally, where I am right now because I’ve been a little bit on the fringes of society as of late, punk shows, that sort of thing.

So where do I begin? Let’s start with some context, I had only been up to the north-east a handful of times in the past; However, most of that time was spent either in middle of nowhere on the “Pemigewasset Loop,” or inside a box which just happened to be in Brooklyn, New York.

After the “Covid-19 Pandemic,” I had spent most of my time locked inside of a variety of boxes just ticking away at time. I had lost most of the my structure, most of my life crumbled away, and undergrad had finished with me in lockdown, and I was online once again.

Naturally, during this point in my life, like a lot of people I lost my job, I went on unemployment for a few months, and caught covid. Thank god for John Hopkins. At that point, I decided to ditch most of my social media, I chose to become addicted to video games again, but also think really hard about what was really going on. I was doing the best, well the best I could at the time because I got really existential about it all. (like Charlie says) Anyways, that all really came to halt when the funding started getting cut, and things became real again.

I, as they say, got the point where I was needing to be “essential” and a part of the work force and economy again. I found a new job to ensure my labor was secured on the glorious free market, so I could sell my time to continue to fund my existence. I applied to a variety of jobs before deciding to work at store, like a bodega. Mind you I could do anything at this point, I don’t really have debt, or anything, just kind of floating in liminal space.

entropy occurs

Time passes. I am being held up a gun point, kept hostage, interrogated before being beaten, robbed, disabled briefly by having a gun placed on my head. I only remember yelling, “please sir,” so many freaking times. It was kind of funny to me that after all that. They could not find the false door that held the lockbox, which held all the cash inside. (This wasn’t the first time they had been robbed) Always dropping the real envelope behind a wooden wall with a hole at the top of the desk, and then the safe at the end of the day, the some same thing for six months. So much time went by it felt like forever, like it would never end.

With my face still pressed against the ground; they were trying to scramble grab what they could, and grab anything of value. My mind wandered and just asked: to make it quick, and thanks to god for giving me a shot. We had made something to the number of $500 dollars that day, sad as the president would say. But, instead they took off with the dummy priced items, they fled the scene quickly, and I kept my life for another day. They put those “highly priced” objects in front to make sure they were stolen first, so it will be written off on the insurance, so they say.

Meanwhile, after all the commotion and rummaging about they took what we had, and held our phones, broke some and kept others, so we couldn’t call for the help. If we tried maybe it would have been worse? They split my friend’s head open, and crashed out my bosses’ Toyota Camry in a ditch somewhere outside of town. The police came to look around at it all told us we shouldn’t have defunded the police, filed their report, so they could say they came, and left. It was necessary that in court somewhere someday it could be proven at one point that these events were purported to have occurred.

After that, I showed up to work for a few days, but ultimately decided to never come back. A few months later, friend asks for help, they say why not try to make a difference for people that might need something different. So I go and try by sitting in room with kids to make sure they don’t lose it. (actually much harder than you expect given the collective trauma that we all simultaneously just experienced not so long before) It does pay off in the end, but you need an iron will and incredible resolve to survive. These kids compared to where I just came from were a breeze, but you have to be so gentle because they can still change they’re the future.

The main mission now was don’t miss work, or your pay resets. So much is time spent trying to do something, spent trying to show people a new way of being here. (I’m not trying to wrestle with the best though) I am just trying to find out how to keep going in between all of this. The crazy guy tells me I don’t know how to talk to them, but he doesn’t know I listen to all the tea. I quit. I start somewhere else. Year one all over again.

More time passes, so many more things happen. Everything felt like it wouldn’t stop happening, all the time, all at once, every day, for three years. The band breaks up. The boys go their separate ways, my friends get married. My friends move away, and I am still here. It is beautiful to know love once. But this time, these quests were an entirely different animal; different in a way that haunts you and your memories forever. Something like playing Resident Evil, or camping alone in the woods at night, for the first time.

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“ain’t no strings on me”

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We can go back further later, but for now, let’s continue. I could go on and on about how I find myself struggling to just live day by day, by these rules that I’ve made up in my head, on how to live a good life and never give up. Or, rather what ways to operate in a world I’ve been involuntarily placed. I try to make it past the River Styx in dreams, through the Field of Reeds, across the Pearly Gates, understanding my shadow, the Wheel, try hard to keep ringing the Bells, see Shangri-La.

To not eat the lotus. To wake up.

When my friends move away I find myself online again. More and more hours sitting in front of a screen, and thinking about how things have been. Now there is more ~~shit~~ in endless cycle of news; the wars, the shootings, the government, all of these object level things that kept me consuming content for hours upon hours, once again. The issue now is that, now my mental health has gotten worse. They have changed the rules, the game, and spaces. There is no digital bill of rights, and I am not here to debate semantics. That factory is finished.

I get a cat. (Пушинка) I find my own studio. I drive an hour long commute across town just so I can live alone. I start working for graduate students helping them facilitate their research, and just working. Trying my best to get outside more often, and just working, sourcing good information in the age of disinformation, and just working. Drinking beer, and working, smoking, going to the bar, and working. Getting to go out to listen to music, and watching live wrestling, and working, and talking to strangers, and forgetting for a moment what I am doing.

Everything kept going faster and faster until it felt like this, right now.

Everything felt like this is just how it is going to be from now on, and how its going to be forever. I kept to my yoga routine, eating healthy, thinking about other people instead of thinking inward. I focused so much time and energy on things that brought so little comfort for so long. I actually had forgotten what it felt like to live in solitude, what loneliness does to people, and how nutty I got. Then it all suddenly stops dead in its tracks and I am shaken to my core. I have never felt this way before, even when I was close to dying I didn’t actually die, I just got a little messed up from the experience, flash-backs, dreams, but this time.

I get a phone call at night from my dad, asking to me to drive to San Antonio to take him to the hospital. I told him, “yea, I can in the morning,” but tomorrow never comes.

My sister died. I’ll miss you forever.

This is when I spiral further the furthest I have ever gone, or rather crash-out. I find myself lonelier but brought around to seeing people I hadn’t seen in years and, frankly, was with fine never seeing again. Reminded of all, all the horrible things that happened to her, and how she just ended up taking her life is the worst possible ending to something, so impossibly sad. Everyone leaves the funeral with a bigger hole than before. It eats away at something I thought I had already lost. I can’t stop crying for weeks. I start to totally Evaporate.

I take my mom to Colorado for one of the most beautiful weddings that I have been to in my twenties, which I was lucky enough to be a part of. I write a speech for it because I’ve known him for twenty years. My mom and I, We get stranded in the Denver at airport after that night. I had no idea what I was doing when summoning those cars to come at night, on a schedule it was hassle. I was operating on limited information apparently that the airport closes midway through the night and opens back up promptly at 5am. So what did we do? we slept on some chairs and left the next morning.

I learned a lot that year about real friendship, and how it does get very gushy and sentimental. “How it is all going,” I ask now that we are all here together, and at the same time in so many different places all at once. I finish the year, and I get a new tattoo. I break Leviticus. Time slides by. I fixate on Lego. I watch the entirety of Seinfeld in two months. (Did you hear it is not popular anymore? understandable) I try to heal do what therapy taught me to do when trying to heal. My truck dies along with my friend. It gets impounded, I try to cope, pay the fees to get it out. I start making bets, this time without twitter as readily available. The debt number goes up.

A new year, more things move around, more things change, some things are totally different, but how I feel doesn’t change. I find myself crying randomly more about everything going on, not just here, but everywhere. Azov. I watch the fiberoptic drones, first person videos, peace bombs, hyperbole from heads of state encroaching further and furthering into everyone and everything. Fewer friends, Better Friends? Finding peace. Trying to put reasons to things that are unreasonable. Most of that year was spent just burning a lot of time grasping at ways that I could reconnect to something inside myself despite everything feeling like it has been underwater for so long.

I get accepted to help a program they liked my thesis, and they pick me to help do research aggregating data for projects to help “redefine” the profession. It keeps my mind busy, like my dad says, it gives certain people reasons to justify our existence, and funding, I say that. More of my strings are cut. My number goes down; I am closer to being free. I am forced to think about other things and that helps.

And now we are here right before summer, I say goodbye to a lot of things and people. I visit Colorado again, go to the wrong airport, almost miss my flight, top Pikes Peak, promptly freeze my ass off, wander around when it gets hotter up in smoke, so they say. But, this time where do I fit into any of this now? Married life seems fun though. My mind wanders. Things feel better and I am “doing things” again. I hope they stay like this for a while. I summon a vehicle and this time, a hundred and fifty four dollars later, it actually works. Flying back home. My contract is ending, and things are shifting, totally apart. I visit home, there and back again, my mom tells me this time, I need to go make my own path. April is over.

Back in Austin, Texas trying to finish work. I try to help everyone meet their dead lines and hit quotas. I feel extremely hopeless sometimes. It feels extremely hopeless sometimes too, if not punishable by impunity. I had a weird time at work, nothing seemed to fit together anymore, like the bottom was about to fall out, and I can’t talk about what happened there these years, it is too evil.

For a little bit I am lost in the moment, my mother is at least she is trying to fix her life again, it does feel hopeless at times. Stuck in all of this trying so hard to just stay in the same ‘pot, or having to face one bad day that takes your savings. I am almost thirty, most of my serious relationships have failed, mostly because of me. My grandparents are dying. My dad is getting sicker, my aunt is taking our house.

My mom still lives in the same trailer I graduated high school from ten years ago. I’ve had to cut the floor out multiple times because it wont stop rotting from the inside. My other sisters don’t talk to me anymore. I visit my family, I ask my grandma:

“Conocos”

…

“te amo mucho.”

She tells me to take some plants, we hug, I work on my bonsai.

“Mucho gusto.”

I find some purpose again in my house plants. I start growing what I can on my balcony again. Reading again. thinking about writing again. Time decompresses again. I work on the computers, fix one, build a new one, and refurbish another. Binge more videogames to cope.

I get a text message.

“Come to Vibe Camp”

and I think,

“what?”

then immediately,

“No.”

Shut down everyone. Shut down everything. My life just felt like so much of my time was just going through the motions on autopilot, without ever really living, or ever being present anymore.

I overload people, until they pop.

I changed my mind a week or two before, I can’t remember.

I felt so angry.

I found housing for my cat for two weeks, and planned to leave everything. Nothing mattered! Nothing matters! Things that I know that are not hard to do felt impossible. ~~if your brain works like mine~~ Regardless, we persist. I guess sometimes entropy occurs. When we expect things to go the way we want we usually encounter what the Marine’s call, “Murphy’s law” this along side a litany of colorful phrases.

So I jump! Geronimo!

So my friend asks me again to come try something new! Life has its many ways of pulling us back into living it, and it doesn’t matter what part of the internet we find ourselves crossing in or out of. We all get stage calls.

I ended up beta testing an MMO for over a hundred hours before just packing as many thing as I could into a carry on suitcase and backpack. Leaving my cat with the sitter, and frantically tossing out as many food items as I could out so I wouldn’t come home to any surprises. (oddly enough that still didn’t work)

I found myself reaching a little further out into the world once again, and more than anything trying to reconnect to my friend and find that playfulness at Vibe Camp.

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II

I summoned a car, it was quick this time, and here it’s only twenty bucks, that’s a steal. At least they don’t have to deal with medallions. I don’t usually use do this, but it works really well, and that says something about the efficiency of technology. The city just got a new app that made it “easier” to pay to ride the bus, but someone just got stabbed last week, so you know how it goes. I can’t complain too much as someone might be paying attention.

My luggage landed with a hard *thud* and I made sure that nothing touched the bumper. you know? you know. Inside the car the air was cold and an aroma of I don’t know what filled the car not overwhelming but present.

We had a quick ride, I like when they don’t talk to me much, but also I don’t totally like sitting in awkward silence very much either. It is an art, driving. The lady seems nice we exchange some words. I notice She had put signs up saying,

“Do not mess her car up, and make sure to tip if its clean.”

Pretty professional if you ask me. I used to have people try and fight me whenever I did it, but when I stepped out of the car they quickly realized I was to not to be trifled with.

We pulled into the airport relatively quickly, a normal day if any down south, fairly tranquil, slow even. Quickly, pulling all my luggage out as fast as I could I tried to hop onto the curb in one piece and swing everything with me all in one fell swoop to swiftly walk in. Shuffling up the concrete floors of the terminal, I walked up to the security gate. Shoes, belts, hats, coats you need them all off before, or they get mad at you for the right reasons. Sometimes people try to bring guns through this place still thinking it’s the golden age or something along those lines. Can’t blame them, given how everything is going right now, but we can all still dream a little dream of a different present.

Phone, keys, wallet all bagged quickly stuffed in my pack. I tried not to screw up any of the requirements because am not a fan of getting held up. I lifted my hands up, positioned and moved in the machine, scanned, walk through collect your items and, just like that it’s over. Walking with shoes on like slippers, my phone in mouth, wallet in hand all while guiding the luggage. This world is not reasonable that’s all that can be said. Practicing bobbing left to avoid crowding tourists and then to the right to find food. I wandered around the airport for a bit, by nervously pacing around the restaurants, and shops because I usually liked getting there two to three hours early, it helps calm my nerves. I also appreciate a solid “Airport Beer” when south bound and down, or a “Blood Mary” if I am north bound, and yearning. I sat around, awkwardly, listening to songs and trying very hard to ground myself.

I find a juice stand, fresh pressed blue lemonade. I get some crispy, darkened and still hot fries.

I end up talking to my mom, and sometimes these conversation they don’t translate like sometimes a hit, sometimes a miss, right now speaking with her helped. I realize these moments are also limited, and I’ll have to just remember how to maneuver life all on my own without her eventually. Especially now, as they begin boarding,“gotta delta,” as they say, and I end my call. I wait for them to call the group number for the people boarding. Not long, the line moves quickly, which was nice for a change. The jet bridge creaked under my feet, now it all felt very real. Three hours on a plane, so I read Dune.

Flying into New York City once again. This next part goes by quickly. I found myself struggling to keep up in between the moments, trying hard to catch it all as it unfolded. I had to keep up here a new quest was presenting itself, to make sure everything went smoothly. (Or, at the very least, avoided total catastrophic failure and disaster.) I had a vague understand of what was to pass, but nevertheless it was time to find out.

JFK was chaos it felt good flying in, but everything in the terminal was under construction, and most of the transit has been re-routed and moved to a secondary location. The move was frantic and everything felt like it had no place being there. All the feet, eyes, and wheels. Trying to cut through the noise I play a song, NUEVAYoL- bad bunny. The energy hectic, the vibes unwinding, it felt like the world was filling with water, and it was just surging through the space all at once.

Liminal Spaces are strange connectors between moments like having conversations with a stranger on a roof top, or on the internet. So many different people’s lives layering over one another. Some people call them energy vortexes. This place is huge. Airports are liminal in nature, no vortexes needed. It is sometimes tempting to run into people not paying attention, but then I do the same, and we share this moment together, trying to find where to go, and eventually hopefully getting back home. Maybe wiser, maybe more experienced, but at the very least well traveled, loved. Summoning the next car encountered some issues at first. Going to the wrong place, I wait longer, when it does arrive I then go to the wrong place, we both eventually figure it out.

The Bronx–Whitestone Bridge gave a clear view of Manhattan in the distance, and the sunsetting in the horizon. We got there pretty quickly that day, nothing was really going on in the airport, so it felt like an easy ride mostly rain, light showers, light overcast. Under a few bridges the Metro pulled along the track as we road the car across streets, through tunnels, down streets, and around corners. Eventually, we make it deeper into Brooklyn. “Williamsburg” it feels new but it’s an older neighborhood with even older roots, and now it is getting a lot of new money pumped into it.

a depiction of the ouroboros - a serpent eating its tail

It feels surreal how beautiful life really is. The sun setting on the city skyline everything soaked in a burnt orange. I’m caught in between it all as night falls on everything, and the sun begins to set in the horizon. A heat-wave begins to wash over.

We all try to coordinate; everyone is somewhere else right now. I pull my bags up to the curb. I get a text, a new number, and I’m told to wait so someone can let me in.

I introduce myself briefly. Brevity. We walk up the marble stairs of the hallway. This place everything felt like it was moved a hundred years into the future, and still standing. The ornate metal and glass now lost to time though.

We walk through the front door of the unit, and for a brief moment I am taken back years. Quickly, I am greeted, so quickly, so many new faces. Quickly, I am not sure what to think, or expect, and basically operating off my autonomic mind. Quickly now, the crew assembles this the first time seeing mostly everyone. We are now going to a bar, just down the street for… a moment.

“Maracujá” it says in metal letters on a wall painted black. Passion fruit. We walk through its wood lain doors peaking through the clear glass planes. It’s late now but everyone is buzzing with energy. The group begins to make their way around, following an invisible flow, the moment swiftly passing as we make a bee-line to the bar. Everything has a red hue from the lights here. We start to drink and talk as time passes, everyone smiles, shakes hands, and laughs. Then we all start bottoming drinks. As the night continues I am introduced to the crew, the goal, and the story.

“THE WORLD IS IN THE PALM OF YOUR HANDS”

We drowned in more chocolate colored beer, and silver liquor. My faculties slowing more, and more, from flight fatigue, fatigue from night as we pushed on, still just tired from everything. We crawled from one pub, to a bar, then a lounge, and the alcohol helped with ride. It felt lucid most of this felt like a dream, like I shouldn’t be here, and that I am stranger in this place, even where I am supposed to fit in.

We began rambling back to the toward the studio everyone’s feet feeling the loose excitement of the air, things were happening, and we were about to capture the moment,

“Vibe Camp.”

It was late by then and the party was breaking up, people nodding off, speaking slurred, almost time to go home. We ended up taking a detour, and wandered into another space instead, empty buildings in the meat packing district, a sign that says, “Peace Bombs” written inside what looks like Fat Man inked on a white sheet plastered on the brick wall. No Response. We summon a ride home.

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III

The next morning, I found myself waking up next to a couple of strangers on a couch, they were with us the night before, I am bad with names. One had been staying there, but they were not coming to camp. One was coming to camp, another one had not arrived yet, one had arrived that was coming to camp as well… it seemed we were still missing people.

Everything was very cordial but even then the mood quickly switched!

Back to business! We had to ensure that the crew could even make it out to the country side of Maryland. We haven’t even left Manhattan yet. We only had one car at the moment, and we had a lot of equipment to move… and soon to be a lot of people too.

Move quickly now, more people, everyone is getting ready, we were supposed to arrive earlier during the day, but but we didn’t.

Coordinating a rendezvous from separate locations has proven to be a logistically arduous task. Especially when the boroughs are split amongst the bridges, various train lines and subway routes. Amongst other problems that come from traversing around the city, like parking.

3 hours came and went. It is, in fact, a lot harder to source an SUV than anticipated

This entire ordeal seem to be from our perspective being: the companies’ inability to source a sizable vehicle within the city, as the company seems to rely on the same subset of cars for their rentals.

Curious? maybe. Bottleneck? maybe. We break into parties and one group ends up in La Guardia for a moment to get a car, while everyone else prepares for the departure. After some strange encounters our driver, various discussions about crypto tokens, and paying $400,000 alimony in Doge, and the a sixty-five dollar ride up, ouch. It didn’t seem to hurt so bad in comparison. Our driver sounded like the parrot from Aladdin, I swear to god.

With the stress levels increasing exponentially we are now cutting into daylight hours. After a couple of card declines, and a few fraud phone calls with my bank, they aren’t used to me not being poor it seems.

“Wallah”

We have a second car, the Wagoneer. I take a moment to collect myself, the car is massive, features a huge display, and so many things to make cruising a sport, truly a landship. Now, I find myself driving through the boroughs back to Brooklyn. Under the same bridges and intersections, the sky line lit up, and the whole city within view, brightest day. It’s moments like these that you know your life is changing, you can hope to keep up, so most importantly, don’t blink.

The city had a magical vibe in many ways. It is pulling you to different places to witness how much life is within, and exposing you to many different people, ensouled, or not. At this point the day was already passing the prime meridian, and we were still trying to organize enough to ensure all of the participants were ready to go.

no getting out of dodge without these cowpokes.

Everything packed inside the trunk like Tetris. Each piece fitting together in an almost artistic fashion, and we got everything in, cameras, cards, clothes, cabin materials and just enough space, so we could stop for more stuff later. We had a car now after all.

Most of the daylight was lost to traveling, and getting out of Manhattan, in the middle of traffic. It was my first time driving in New York City, and wow! It is just like it is in the movies. Taxi Driver. We are about to have fun. The cities’ a concrete jungle, as they say. I end up doing some wild maneuvers to cut lanes and not budge, before getting into the Holland Tunnel. Lots to think about when you’re here. The food is pretty good, and getting around feels like an adventure.

We begin crossing under the Hudson River. The tunnel is laid with white tile. Rows and rows of tiny ceramic plates only broken apart by tunnels and doors, endlessly lining up, blending together into a mosaic of teeth, some chipped, some broken.

Eventually, we emerge to see “New Jersey” and the arms of the cranes hanging high, huge structures like a skeleton hugging the coast, it was massive the shipping yards. The container ships resting in the bay seemed unreal, I’d never seen anything like it before.

The light filled the air and everything felt so huge. I am trying to hold down my excitement this is as far out of the city I have ever been. When I was last here they’d trace you, check where’d you go, and make sure you were staying put. Masks required, national guard was called in too made it all feel more legit, very real. We passed through everything, so quickly then I saw it, for the first time in my life. Absolute Dream she was.

“it’s crazy, it’s all copper,”

I’ll never forget what they did to The New Colossus. But right in the bay, the statue of liberty, bright as day.

The Statue of Liberty rendered in watercolor

The crew was a caravan now, making our way down south toward the swamp, as they say. We had to pull off somewhere between Delaware and Philadelphia to continue staging and prepping. Also food because I hadn’t eaten all day. So we stopped at a strip mall, dealt with the jug handles, the round abouts until we all made it to same spot. We were about a three hour drive to the middle of nowhere, Maryland.

The camping co-op had so many over priced supplies, its crazy how much they’re pushing inflation these days. I bought a cape, it doubles as a blanket, it made the experience softer, more palatable. More supplies for everyone! The car was filled with camping supplies, fresh veggie burgers and fries. The drive was filled with talks about our modern society, life, our place in it, what’s going on across the Atlantic.

A lot of heavy thoughts about things to be sad about, and entirely out of our power to deal with, we can only hope cooler heads prevail, and we don’t end up blowing ourselves up over a couple of books. But, this isn’t The Satanic Verses, and I am not trying to get into that can of worms right now.

Daylight began burning into Nightfall. It seemed like we were never going to get there, another hour and half of driving, even after all that rushing around we are still The Midnight’s Children. By the time we made it out into the woods, it was already dark most of the campsites were cloaked in darkness, a mystery for now. There was an individual playing video games, or doing something I couldn’t really see, on a old television in a gazebo, but otherwise there weren’t very many souls around just yet.

Did you ever go to summer camp when you were younger? The whole time thoughts of Flaming Arrow crossed my mind, lost to time, flash backs to childhood I couldn’t stop replaying. (if you never got the chance to go to vibe camp maybe you still can go because they say they have it every summer in Maryland) I was taken back by it all, it hadn’t rained in Texas in five months, and here it was already soaking wet. They told us we could take the cars down to the cabins for a moment unload, and grab a bite to eat in the white house, we are some of the first people here.

The car rumbled against the dirt and shifted pavement. The ground was rocky and we shook back and forth down the hill toward the red cabin in the wagoneer. The door lit the ground with it’s label, we call that aftermarket luxury. No tents, not this time. Barely any service, most of my phone basically useless beyond a camera, and messaging abysmally. Don’t even think about it because it probably won’t work outside of the hill tops. We met the hostess, got some snacks, settled in.

The cabins were solid wood. Four little rooms, with two big spaces in the center consisting of a parlor and the dorm style shower. The structures themselves, Lincoln log. And, it honestly felt kind of cute given that I mostly anticipated sleeping on the floor or spring style mattress from the early 2000’s but this was pleasantly surprising, exciting even.

We forgot to buy sheets.

Mostly everyone was about settled in, and we were trying to find our own little spots within this massive space. It also felt so wildly strange to be back at camp, especially as an adult, normally my vacations consist of staring at my computer for eight, or more hours… and then a different set of walls for ten more. For some reason this broke that loop again.

We took our time. My friend began setting out all the equipment, and I went to one of the other backroom sections. I wanted to have a more evenly spaced sleeping situation with everyone, considering we were going to be here a few days. I don’t like feeling cramped in an enormous room. It makes me feel like the walls have ears and can talk.

Everything was laid out in neat order, and I made sure to find a spot for all my items. I wanted to put each thing in a dedicated place, laying each one out into a specific location, so I would remember if they were moved and lost. The cabin inside was a bone white color. (people in the city love to call it the “landlord special,” which seemingly every property owner loves to lather everywhere to ensure it still feels fresh) But what do know!~ I had to withdraw from interior design when I was in college. I am sure there’s a method to the madness, that’s what I get for trying to make bubble chairs.

I had to check the shower, so many bugs, but the sound of rushing water, hot water, washes that all away in an instant. The greatest thing on this earth… well maybe right next to sliced bread.

I get cleaned up while we waited for everybody. More people appeared to be staying in the cabin, and I was so surprised.

I drove the car back up the hillside and parked it in line with the people staying, and tried do my part to help keep it organized.

We walked to this big white house, everyone was passing through there for a moment to collect their faculties before bed, raiding the fridge for whatever Baja Blasts, left over pickles, and oranges we could find.

The energy and excitement was as rich in the air. Like, the fireflies lighting the fields. There’s something special about this. A special you feel. Like when you look up and you see Orion and the milky way. we are all caught here Somewhere between Altair and Vega.

Challenge yourself, challenge your expectations of self, challenge what people think you are, challenge your own expectations for how things should be and be open to what could be! Support your personal growth, a lot of these lessons just come from going through it and crashing out. The work is never done though and reward comes from the practice and motion. It felt like rolling a boulder up a hill, but the first task was completed.

We had an early morning to catch up with shots we missed, and everyone was going to be showing up to camp soon.

“Always remember that you can just do things”

(end session: Part I)

Welcome to Arcanejuice!

Joshua Sotello — Sun, 06 Jul 2025 19:30:31 GMT

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Remembering something in the Digital Age:

Short story time… I can think of only one thing now as I write this and it’s when I was younger I would spend hours on Youtube watching “Runescape 2” videos. (now referred to as old-school Runescape) OSRS for short and I think about how I would watch my favorite youtuber try and “max” online. Until one day his family posted on his channel that he had passed away. Of the few things their child had left behind one was that digital marker, and as technology changes some of these things are lost to the dunes of time. But as the sand shifts we are in this moment now, together. Not that what I say isn’t valuable, but I just want to be able to capture the moment before it is gone, lost too, in a sea of code.

A brick wall with a piece of paper attached to it. On the paper is a black and white depiction of a nuclear war head written inside are two words: “Peace Bomb”

Still alive

Metaphorically this is one my one of my gems. Symbolically this is a place to set all the jewels I’ve kept locked away in my chest. I’ve chosen the internet as my domain. Willingly. I am writer at heart and I have always been this way. I want to give back as much as I can in this short period, share what I know, learn with everyone, and teach what I can. I am a creator and let’s search for a new way of being on this earth.

In the many places that life can take us, and the many things that life can take from us, especially when we least expect it, or when we hope to find when things finally go right. I wanted to provide the solace that literature gave me when I was alone, and found solitude within the word.

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a water color depiction of the stained glass mosaic inside St. John’s Cathedral in Northern Manhattan.

UNDERSTANDING THE LETTER AND USING THE VOICE

I invite you to explore what I call for your “core ägor” or your mental estate.

When you get down in the thick of it to your core, of your beliefs, do you know the truth?

Let’s think about things together, listen, share ideas, practice mindful (thoughtful) gestures.

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