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The art of futility

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  Creation doesn’t save. Art stabilises. That’s why art continues after belief has died. Not because it promises something— But because consciousness cannot stop itself. The will to create isn’t heroic. It’s involuntary. A reflex. The art of futility A spoken monologue I don’t make art because it matters. I make it because consciousness produces excess. And excess demands release. That’s the first lie we’re taught—that art points toward truth. Truth doesn’t need us. It existed before our gestures and will remain after our silence. Art isn’t revelation. It’s a regulation. An overdeveloped mind can’t remain idle. Thought accumulates. Pressure builds. Expression becomes a discharge—not a message. This isn’t noble. It’s biological. Paintings. Texts. Sounds. Images. All variations of the same maneuver. Not transcendence . Containment . Once you see this, ambition collapses. Influence. Legacy . Relevance. These are metaphysical debts art can no longer pay. The work is finished the mome...
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Intelligent Systems Our Data Your Worth

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How we move into the future is dependent on our ability to make sense
Before fact is rationalised gut feeling is digested
Before each step is taken we fall

Dig deep into your values
Enter into your hidden caves
Delve deeply
Find those values that emerge only once crisis and panic in evident
The issue is time
The problem is the compacting of intensity as each deadline approaches
What will change ignores those who cannot
Those who cannot change are left behind
In isolation 
As a useless dog barking at the cold dark night

Once data is benchmarked
Once the vision is realized
Once pathways are scratched
Once milestones are configured
The journey is described
The future becomes present

Transverse within multitudes of mindscapes 
Lose yourself within ifs and buts
Intoxicate yourself within white ant whispers
On your knees in harmonious prayer and in communal solitude 
Within and already placed to the side

The patterns of biomorphic resistance
The values of what works now
The standards that will be let go of
The hidden protection
The chains of what is known
As accepted and further away from what is

Yes but, what about me
I am more than this
My data doesn't define me
You owe me
Been there and done that
Listen to me, I am one of the silent
With me your plan will fail






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