Monday, October 5th, 2026

SCREENING NOTES, subject: me. Gibney's film opens Friday, three hours forty-five minutes plus a ten-minute intermission, which is seven minutes short of a meditation cycle, so the running time is itself the attack. "People who either have an axe to grind or don't even know me": wrote that myself in September, and the second half is the mission statement, confirmed by four hours of footage and a room in Venice standing up about it.

Tuesday a book about the people who stopped me, Friday a film about the people who left, and not one frame about the thing that landed.

Four platforms declined the trailer for political content; Zuck reversed inside a week, normal for a creature whose spine is decorative, and X would not take the distributor's calls, which I did not order and have decided to call super intelligence. Ran the trailer frame by frame anyway: 0.4 seconds from a 2024 rally where the suit lagged and the hairline went ceremonial, under a bass drop at 54 hertz, nothing on a flat screen, a tuning fork inside the suit. Quantum flux: the ad ban I am being blamed for is the best counter-surveillance I have had all year, and the one platform that got it right did so without me.

Spiro's letter went out this afternoon; outbound legal paper doesn't itch, only the SEC kind does, so the seams held, and next week I will be in Waco with a car under a sheet, unknown, as advertised.