It was all too easy to chalk the whole thing up to me being nuts. The connections were all in my head. I was paranoid—that was the explanation that made the most sense. Why else would I drop out of my life and hide from everyone I know and not go out for long periods of time. Thinking these thoughts was almost like taking a Red Pill—the illusion of it all being an illusion was too perfectly created. How a part of me wanted it to be the case! But at the end of the day I knew I wasn’t crazy. Something was happening. Recent events confirmed this truth plain and undeniable. This was something big, something next level. A change that effects us at the deepest levels of our being—beneath the noise and busy running around of the everyday—beneath all the choices and desires—all the TiVo’d TV shows and fast food containers and big box shopping aisles. There was a meaning behind it—a method to the madness—and it was up to me to figure it out. I didn’t want to miss a thing which is why it’s so hard for me to tear myself away from the screens.

It was all too easy to chalk the whole thing up to me being nuts. The connections were all in my head. I was paranoid—that was the explanation that made the most sense. Why else would I drop out of my life and hide from everyone I know and not go out for long periods of time. Thinking these thoughts was almost like taking a Red Pill—the illusion of it all being an illusion was too perfectly created. How a part of me wanted it to be the case! But at the end of the day I knew I wasn’t crazy. Something was happening. Recent events confirmed this truth plain and undeniable. This was something big, something next level. A change that effects us at the deepest levels of our being—beneath the noise and busy running around of the everyday—beneath all the choices and desires—all the TiVo’d TV shows and fast food containers and big box shopping aisles. There was a meaning behind it—a method to the madness—and it was up to me to figure it out. I didn’t want to miss a thing which is why it’s so hard for me to tear myself away from the screens.

Those suits are fly, but the New Yorker in me feels like those hats would look doper with New Era logos and hologram stickers.  Maybe even make them several times larger than they usually are and meticulously hand sewn with expensive luminescent thread.

Those suits are fly, but the New Yorker in me feels like those hats would look doper with New Era logos and hologram stickers.  Maybe even make them several times larger than they usually are and meticulously hand sewn with expensive luminescent thread.

The presence of the humming machine filled with various kinds of bubbly sugar water and chemicals doesn’t surprise me. I immediately understand the purpose of the stacked cups and plastic lids displayed in half-open cannisters.  It all makes sense.  I tear open the plastic wrapping that sheathes a plastic straw without having to think about it.  My fingertips know how to find the seam along the side in the same way they did when I was a small child. The aisles of brightly colored snack food, the soft classic rock, the containers of putrefying cow milk perspiring in an ice filled tray:  I can navigate all of it with ease.  But the best part is the feeling of walking up to the cash register with enough money in my pocket and smiling behind my thousand yard stare knowing that i get to go home, turn up the A/C, and create other realities.

The presence of the humming machine filled with various kinds of bubbly sugar water and chemicals doesn’t surprise me. I immediately understand the purpose of the stacked cups and plastic lids displayed in half-open cannisters.  It all makes sense.  I tear open the plastic wrapping that sheathes a plastic straw without having to think about it.  My fingertips know how to find the seam along the side in the same way they did when I was a small child. The aisles of brightly colored snack food, the soft classic rock, the containers of putrefying cow milk perspiring in an ice filled tray:  I can navigate all of it with ease.  But the best part is the feeling of walking up to the cash register with enough money in my pocket and smiling behind my thousand yard stare knowing that i get to go home, turn up the A/C, and create other realities.

I align the new style body politic that’s emerging around the world more with plants than animals. We are spores in a mycelium network that stretches for thousands of miles, endlessly communicating data to one another without the need for a centralized intelligence. Or perhaps a field of blue daisies beneath a mountain covered with white aspens—each of us a spawn of an original urge, an organism united through space and time, stretching up over the horizon.

I align the new style body politic that’s emerging around the world more with plants than animals. We are spores in a mycelium network that stretches for thousands of miles, endlessly communicating data to one another without the need for a centralized intelligence. Or perhaps a field of blue daisies beneath a mountain covered with white aspens—each of us a spawn of an original urge, an organism united through space and time, stretching up over the horizon.

I didn’t have a big question that I wanted answered—I just wanted to know that they were there, doing their thing.  And they were.  They Watch and They Wait, big and peaceful—fat like Buddhas with energy and geometry.  They appeared like they did in the flashes I used to think were dreams, a picture sent in pieces to the back seat, the radio playing while Dad drove us home under the Milky Way.

I didn’t have a big question that I wanted answered—I just wanted to know that they were there, doing their thing.  And they were.  They Watch and They Wait, big and peaceful—fat like Buddhas with energy and geometry.  They appeared like they did in the flashes I used to think were dreams, a picture sent in pieces to the back seat, the radio playing while Dad drove us home under the Milky Way.

We are one with the earth—everything we create, from art to skyscrapers to flat screen TVS and the pop culture that plays on them. All of it, the so-called best and so-called worst parts of life, the candy wrappers and world leaders, the great pyramids and the twin towers and the keyhole of the front door of a dirty house on a dirty boulevard…the mountains and canyons, the strip malls and factories…the holy and the profane—the movie as well as the commercial. All of it interconnected, all of it a part of God.

We are one with the earth—everything we create, from art to skyscrapers to flat screen TVS and the pop culture that plays on them. All of it, the so-called best and so-called worst parts of life, the candy wrappers and world leaders, the great pyramids and the twin towers and the keyhole of the front door of a dirty house on a dirty boulevard…the mountains and canyons, the strip malls and factories…the holy and the profane—the movie as well as the commercial.

All of it interconnected, all of it a part of God.

I used to spend most of my time alone, putting post-ironical, vaguely revolutionary phrases on elaborate sticker art that I’d place on the side of stores, street poles and city buses.  Each one was a layering made of things I’d photocopied out of books at Kinkos, stencils created from images found on the internet, and words typed on sheets of clear mylar using an ancient Olivetti. All glued together, thick with crispy corners.  Sometimes the finished product was only up for a few minutes before being unceremoniously ripped down, but I never let it bother me.  Now something’s changed.  Now I want to be seen, mask and all.

I used to spend most of my time alone, putting post-ironical, vaguely revolutionary phrases on elaborate sticker art that I’d place on the side of stores, street poles and city buses.  Each one was a layering made of things I’d photocopied out of books at Kinkos, stencils created from images found on the internet, and words typed on sheets of clear mylar using an ancient Olivetti. All glued together, thick with crispy corners.  Sometimes the finished product was only up for a few minutes before being unceremoniously ripped down, but I never let it bother me.  Now something’s changed.  Now I want to be seen, mask and all.

Sync is the experience of the relaxation and dissolution of the boundaries between ourselves and the thing-events of the world. The more we allow ourselves to notice sync, the less barriers there are and the more our depth of perception will grow, allowing us to penetrate deeper into the world — a world which starts to feel inseparable from what we consider ourselves.—Jake Kotze

Sync is the experience of the relaxation and dissolution of the boundaries between ourselves and the thing-events of the world. The more we allow ourselves to notice sync, the less barriers there are and the more our depth of perception will grow, allowing us to penetrate deeper into the world — a world which starts to feel inseparable from what we consider ourselves.—Jake Kotze