Don't go swimming in the ocean at night

Straight drooooop...

Spooky

You're missing out.

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Wouldn't go in that freezing salty crap during the day m8

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Welcome. We are Modem. The full yolk bleeds serotonin.

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>urban eternalism
>Manhattan cannibal cults
>the magazine rooms
>karma highlighters
>flintstones “yabadabadoo” incident
>impossible color rainbows
>barbelo_moth_tunnels
>hylic chatrooms
>sky box snuff
>freeze frame goetia
>cigarette brains
>immunomancers
>topology of the backrooms
>time treadmills
>sleep tunneling
>suicide actuators
>narnia cubes
>Pneumarijuana
>necro-poetry

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Urban eternalism

Hylic chatrooms

Report: the idea that all history is fabricated, nature is a simulation, and only the major cities on the planet are real - and eternal. they have always existed. they have never-not been what they are. what cities excel at is producing contextualities - historical, political, economic, social, psychological, spiritual, etc. - that ground the city in a narrative or schema that makes them simply secondary effects of this-or-that human or non-human phenomenon. but remove those contexts, and what do you have? reality without contexts is the immediacy right outside your door: roads and highways stretching off forever into jaundiced horizons. it has to be understood, that relative to the bovinized urbanite, the hunter-gatherers of prehistory might as well have been the first stars: they were entities who lived at such an intensity of energy acquisition/expenditure, that it simply could not have gone forever. why did people settle into agriculture? because they were tired. all systems tend toward rest-states, homeostatic basins of minimal, energic tension - is it any wonder that fish crawled out of a turbulent, liquid element into the stability of dry land? the arc of the human species is entropic: the Body of Man lying down to rest by epochal increments.

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Report: clandestine chatrooms on the internet where the barrier between man and the chthonic become more and more tenuous: we've seen these ourselves, snuff demons that manifest in livestreams during particularly violent scenes, hankering for blood and spiritual evil (we suspect these are something like larval incubi which feed off the simulated pain and suffering of digital subjects; typically when they're waiting for a host body to be prepared for them so they might enter the Real full-fledged). the inverse is pneumatic chatrooms, where light spirits manifest for a change. a few nature ambience channels on YouTube stream videos before posting, and sometimes you'll be lucky enough to catch one of these spirits make an appearance. instead of posting smut or spamming demonic mantras, these entities write a few unassuming lines of what could be taken as poetry, and leave without a word. their writings are generally very beautiful and affecting, almost-always in praise of the sun, or failing that, some flower or animal: sometimes they even post translations of birdsong.

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this is cool
>the magazine rooms

Sky box snuff.

What’s this from?

Don't ask, just select title.

suicide actuators

Report: humans take great pleasure in good conversation, and we don't blame them. but there is a danger to it: the worst philosophy is the pathological conversation. talking so much that, instead of experience and the un-thematizable, you construct systems and schemas with your Talking to anticipate what is outside that Talking. basically, using language to replace/supersede reality: there is a special punishment in the gehennas reserved for these people who wanted to geld reality from the comfort of their armchairs: the magazine rooms. think about it this way: all conversations are about something, something in existence, a background that gives the turns of phrase panache and the poetry its piquance, a vital ground that makes the shit you're talking about meaningful, real, alive. what about conversations that are totally self-enclosed, hermetic, circular? a continuum of existence where is no existence, but just the talking-about of existence. some contact with an Outside is always preserved: hence the actual magazine rooms, an infinite doctor's waiting room with no exit, where the only thing to talk about are the magazines on the table... imagine if the entire source-point of a culture were magazines, television shows, music. if the simulacra of reality became themselves reality, behind which there was nothing sayable or thinkable. reality at a lower resolution. you can't imagine how alien and strange talking becomes then. but like any good hell, there are layers... the next layer below the magazine rooms are the white rooms. there is nothing to say, there is nothing to do, but just as space here is space without anyone's permission, in the white rooms there is something equally ubiquitous: an eternal and infinite conversation... about nothing.

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What if I like to do scary things sometimes, just too feel like I don’t have as many boundaries as I do?

whats going on ITT?

>sky box snuff

deep sea creatures don't go near the beach.
No danger at swimming at night

>topology of the backrooms
This

You might end up dead, or something worse. It was not meant that we should voyage far.

barbelo_moth_tunnels

is this thread a glimpse of /x/ schizos? Never been there.

No way Jose

You should visit once, try to tell the larpers from the schitzos just in vampire/succubus/tulpa threads.

Unironically yes.

why not I do it (while drunk), it's fun