"Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!"
John Keats

ASMR exists in the cultural demilitarized zone between human interaction and total isolation and detachment.  It is a no-man's-land of soft-spoken librarians and role-playing whisper chicks, in which nothing real has ever happened.  If Skype and Zoom are the Stanley Kubrick space phones from 2001: A Space Odyssey, ASMR is the holographic AI girlfriend for a world that still relies on real people and cameras to make videos for a screen-based user interface.  Once the user interface steps out of the machine and into the real world, humanity will reach the singularity, and life itself will become redundant.  At which point something violent and horrible will happen, providing humanity with one more chance to stop playing God, before sending itself to the devil.

You may not realize it, but you already have a user interface.  It's called, simply, a face, and is the main interface between the world and the soul.  The whole body is really just a complex user interface, especially for "users" of various kinds of dangerous chemicals.  Many users of this kind utilize nasal, oral, and intravenous inputs in their interface to send themselves to outerspace, at whichpoint they may find themselves in mortal

Danger, hastily writing a simplistic human code for repentance, something short and easy to type quickly with both the fingers and the tongue, something for the benefit of the voice-activated ministering spirits lingering on the fringes of the physical world, guardian angels who may or may not be allowed to save me this time, depending on the will and pleasure of the Great Commanding Officer who humbled Himself and became a grunt, so as to save us from our own self-inflicted obstacle course, in the mad and senseless boot camp of the world.

"Help," we said.

Thus spake Zarathustra.

Update 4/27/24:  I took the video down because the source material for the spoken word was a false prophet, albeit one with a good ASMR voice, and I've had strange, dark, unprecedented dreams the last 2 nights.  Even though I edited it so that he was talking over himself, some of the phrases were discernible, and I think I inadvertently opened a door for demonic influence in my life.  The lesson is clear:  Don't use demonically-inspired work of any kind as a source material for anything.  I suppose that should be obvious, but I wasn't promoting the guy, and used an abbreviated form of his name in the description, so as not to lead people to him.  Not enough, apparently.  So I took the video down.  But this is the photo I used for the video, which is why I used it for the header.  But don't play around with demons or demonic material of any kind.  Even if you muddle it because you like the vocal timbre.  It isn't good.

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Intentional ASMR may exist in the transitional space between human interaction and total isolation, but as a disenfranchised exile from the crumbling waterfall of numbers known to most animals caged in the zoo of sin as "life," I find it relaxing.  Unintentional ASMR is better, so I accidentally made the video above, using the yammering spray of fragmented language numbers I was able to collect from the waterfall, and superimposing them over an improvised instrumental song from my album Fabulous Dream.  Because, y'know, I'm not against technology, I just think it's our job (or one of our jobs) as humans to remember that the gifts of God are beautiful, including the mathematical and scientific mind, and that, in a sinful, fallen world, beauty without pathos is a glib, fascistic lacquer that glosses over the horrible truth of our actual condition and attempts to affix a smile like a Botox tail on a donkey, a donkey that is increasingly incapable of denying the existential horror of life behind the crumbling veil of numbers that stand between us and God like a computer screen.  It is a mistake to believe that doing away with the screen will bring us closer to fulfilling our desire to be loved, especially if we've already traded in that desire for the pursuit of pleasure.  Empty, fleeting pleasures with which we may someday be able to interface, without the need for any interface at all.

If we've abandoned our faith in love to the point that we're priming ourselves to interact with holograms instead of other people, whether that faith was always wasted or not, why not abandon the path of mis-spent faith entirely?  Shall we not enter we in at the straight gate?  "For wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat:”  Matthew 7:13

Many there be.  But God willing, 

Not me.

The heart makes up its mind.

Thanks for listening.