TWAP, or TWAMM, it ain’t matter. Your psūkhḗ is tethered to an age of uncertainty across a modular time-making grift. You need to pay attention to the grifters. They accelerate the biological evolution under the cloak of a collective dawn of culturally-motivated evolution that is now botted by the art of advertisement that currently trail-blazes in a fashion reminiscent of the ugly æsthetics of Queer ‘20s. I’d rather prefer a shinier Roaring Twenties without any societal context thereof.

Advertisement is the art of contextual conceptualization for a species to bootstrap itself across both ends of the cones. There’s nothing metaphysical to it in the sense of a banality bound in print. A physicality that rides a volatile meta, though, is a robust scaffold from which we can escape on a calmer computation of universe as a moodboard.

Imagine thinking that the universe is an emulation of a modular system 55, a moogboard instead. Some would believe in that. Clout and gossip networks regeneratively produces such immaculate instances of pure conceptual griftery. I do not blame the critters. They’re good to hang out with.



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