gwei lo diary restored

 not used to writting in a language that may not cover my ambitions and my inner darker point of view, hence, few reasons forced me to...
not used to explain any reason or intention, surrounded by fucked up algorithms, having given up -early, the joy procedures and aimed myself to the result...
blast off with excuses. "to the cars!"
partially accidentally my presence to this state of the unexplained, I will try to re-configure and not to describe my feelings after this recurrent atonement under those walls of noise and those high level frequency demolitions.
scattered images across my universe passing by...ascending or descending orders does not matter at all.
it started as it ended...interminable resurrections of haunted sceneries, full of pain, anxiety and sweet-expected failure.
behind the walls I could hardly recognise the aborted Siamese foetus of Alan Vega attached with Damon Edge...Helios Creed was masturbating on a Link Wray's "negative" wallpaper...
molecules of overloaded Kraftwerk semiconductors were falling down violently, covering every inch of this abandoned drive-in, located in the desert of Las Vegas as an earthquake transferred this whole burned-to-death piece of land above Detroit.
it was just the sound that you must "eat" alone, like the last day on earth. i won't talk about the movies that managed to pass through my retina. not of this time.
not of this earth.
thanks mr. Zhang.
P.S. Lux Interior would laugh melting on acid.

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