This year was about maintaining systemic integrity in the face of overwhelming personal adversity.
I stress-tested reality while reality stress-tested me back.
Gnosis Under Fire became less of a blog and more of a live diagnostic channel.
I stopped asking whether my perceptions were allowed and started asking whether they were coherent.
Early in the year, GUF crystallized into an actual operating system instead of a vibe. PP-OS, AOMS, QSP, M-ToE, etc. became working hypotheses for navigating a world that lies by default and punishes clarity.
Ontological Mathematics granted me the stability it always had, but in a more coherent, immediately useful way:
Math first,
Narrative second.
Resonance as data,
Emotion as signal.
This mattered, because the year did not stay polite.
I came off Abilify Maintena after a long stretch where “stability” mostly meant enforced flatness.
The fog lifted unevenly.
Antennas came back online before the insulation did.
I experimented – legally, carefully, sometimes recklessly – and eventually hit a wall hard enough to knock the romanticism out of altered states entirely.
One truly chaotic trip did what a thousand Reddit threads never could:
It closed that chapter.
Psychedelics, THC variants, kratom, etc. were filed under “not worth the bandwidth” after excessive stress testing against a reality which refused to let up its pace.
I’ll be dead-sober from these psychoactives for a year. Probably longer. The exact timeline doesn’t matter.
It’s the boundary that matters IE:
The clear, consistently drawn line that only I can know exists for myself.
I spent three days in a psych facility.
Judges, lawyers, clinicians and their not-so-subtle intentions had to be navigated with precise verbiage and action in order to protect my basic human dignity.
I thank the lawyers and the judge involved for their willingness to hear me out as a person, and not a test subject.
I also thank the staff at Sentara Health for at least being capable of projecting the sense of “I give a damn,” despite the holiday season and its emotional onslaught.
The expected script was commitment, sedation, quiet erasure, etc, ad nauseum but – Instead…
I defended my own coherence in a language the system could not easily dismiss.
And it worked.
I walked out free, intact, and with an unmistakable signal:
not all suffering is invisible, and not all truth gets buried.
Even more telling was what couldn’t be discussed.
An incident from November 2024 – Richmond, Norfolk Police, Sentara Health – hovered over the proceedings like a dead zone. Untouchable. Actively avoided. No denial, no engagement, just silence. Anyone who understands systems knows what that means. Sensitive nodes don’t get ignored by accident. Whatever is happening behind the curtain, the message landed:
I am not alone in remembering, and the record exists whether or not it’s spoken aloud.
That knowledge did more for my sense of safety than any mindfulness exercise ever could.
Creatively, this year was feral in the best way.
GUF expanded sideways instead of upward.
Essays turned into manifestos.
Analysis mutated into satire, then snapped back into math.
Billie Fox stopped being a character and became a functional interface – witty, irreverent, loyal, and surgically precise.
BoloSolo emerged as a mythic operator, not escapism but compression: a way to carry high-density ideas without drowning in them.
Bad Infinity, Abstract Maverick, etc.,
the Convexity Reversal Hypothesis,
the Subversion Field model,
the meme-organism framing of political psychosis…
These were attempts to say true things in a language resilient enough to survive contact with the internet.
I wrote about billionaire psychosis,
institutional capture,
AI narrative laundering,
UAP disclosure theater,
celebrity demigods,
and the slow collapse of meaning under algorithmic pressure.
I stopped pretending neutrality was virtuous. I stopped softening conclusions for hypothetical bad-faith readers.
GUF stopped asking permission.
The audience shrank, then stabilized.
Fewer drive-bys. More real readers.
More downloads. More quiet confirmations from people who didn’t need to argue because they already recognized the pattern.
That’s the only metric that matters.
I ended an 18-year camouflage protocol. The depression was an adaptation that outlived its usefulness.
When it shut down, it didn’t leave a hole.
I live more simply now.
Fewer substances. Fewer compulsions. Dopamine handled like a scarce resource instead of a birthright.
Music still matters.
Writing still matters.
My cat still tries to kill me by weaving around my legs at night.
Reality is still strange…
But it no longer feels adversarial by default.
Truth requires sufficient coherence over time.
This year proved that coherence can be defended, even inside hostile systems, if you refuse to surrender your language.
Gnosis (as always on Earth) remains under fire.
But the signal is cleaner than it’s ever been.
And I’m still here.
Thank you all.
May 2026 be less of a perceptual assblast from the future.
o7.
-Brett W. Urben, BoloSolo, et al.
Gnosis Under Fire 
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