VQ BOY GOES BRRRRR

Dom blesses the internet with his new and improved VQ imitation.

If you close your eyes and open your ears it almost sounds real. It's eerie, really, just how close it is to reality. You can almost feel the buffeting of the wind against the windows, feel the soft vibration of the V6 as you approach the redline. Isn't it strange? How the immaterial can so easily mimic the material. This video, all videos, they're just little lights bombarding the back of your eyes and tiny vibrations reverberating off the walls of your scull, but you feel it, don't you? It's there, almost as if you can touch it, the lie bleeds into the truth until your mind is left only with a soft disassociating numbness. These things, these intricate arrangements of photons and electrons, they make you feel something, don't they? How can they? You've laughed to these things, cried to these things, obsessed over these things, worried over these things, and yet they are not real, they merely give off the impression of being real. It's oh so convincing, isn't it? When you let go of some of your senses, just for a moment, and let your brain fill in the gaps with fiction, you craft your own truth in a way. We disable our sight to see more, to feel more, to be more. What does truth matter anyway? Is it not more pleasant to fill in the gaps? To let the mind play and be at ease within the confines you create for it, without exposing it to the harshness of the totally of your senses. We must constantly limit our perception to perceive, we cannot possibly understand the bombardment we experience every day. How then, can we trust our fabricated truth? If we must close our eyes to see, just as we can make this video real by limiting ourselves, who's to say we aren't denying ourselves some greater truth merely by being human? That is to say, being unable to comprehend the totally of the truth that has been thrust upon us. We are simple, we are blind, we grovel at the conceptual feet of abstract shapes and forms (both of the mind and of material), desperately trying to peer upwards and gaze upon their luminosity, but we cannot, for we are limited by our own being. We may never know, we may never see, as perhaps we could, as perhaps we should. We can close up as much as we desire, but we will always be perpetually tortured by the knowledge that we cannot understand even the concept of totality. When seen in that way, doesn't it all seem a little thin, a little flimsy, as if our vision itself cannot support its own weight, as if shape is not objective or rather that shape cannot be objective? If something cannot be measured, cannot be perceived, can it be known? Furthermore, can it be real? If we cannot understand this bombardment of shapes... is it real? If we cannot truly measure it, is it real? If we cannot truly see it, how can we know it is real? Perhaps it is not, perhaps this image we paint in every moment, our active struggle against our own deficiencies, is not material, but rather, is completely immaterial. Who's to say?

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