I think the Seraphim are making me eat crow or something. I can't seem to get around the angle of compass. Those thirty three degrees and those years in the earthly ministry. I mean, is it really possible to consciously create reality? Can I make someone fall in love with me or can I cause a car accident? Can I decide when to sleep and when to be awake? All these questions confound the qualified diety. What once was intrigue became blasphemy and now that the taboo has become most holy the laity will lose their interest. It's okay though, my anger will be poured out like rancid soup, onto the frozen ground to cut the awkward ice. I will be naked and turning blue. Shaking violently. Soon my fingers and toes will turn black and then the black part will spread throughout my entire body, until my organs are frost bitten. Then I will succumb to the final narrative. I will be a frozen wildebeast. I will look in the glacier for food but none will present itself. I will be captive to my own limitation. Where will you be? Still surviving like me? Or will you be warm in a house somewhere waiting for the savior to wash your feet? Will you be cooking a meal from the spoils of hegemony? Will it be a stew made from rotten vegetables and rancid meat? Will you swallow each bite as though it were an expensive medicine? I'm sorry but I'm done eating. My belly has swollen to beach ball capacity. Nobody is looking. I think I'll just shave a little off the top. Then I'll feel like dancing. Then I'll be the life of the party. I'll get a few drinks and start puking. I'll let the night take me. I won't be able to take my mind off me. I'll be making faces in the mirror. I'll be combing my hair and doing my make up. I'll be looking so pretty you can't help but love me. You'll be in a dress moving slowly. I'll be walking on a cloud like a russian ballet dancer. But you'll be walking but never moving. You'll always be stationary.

The real is real and jehovah is only and real. I am not. ia m nothing. in this everything i do not stand. i am not vocal. i am not charismmatic. what kind of folk do i want to surround myself by. i think about that and pray. do i enjoy the creative type. or am i afraid to share power with them? do i think that i am greater than most? am i qualified to lead a flock like a beautiful loving shepard. a wise old father with gray beard. walt whitman and his grocery boys? like sharon at the shores of lethe. am i the boatman accepting morbid donations. on the eyelids of virgins. the letter is written it cannot be understood. the burrito has been eaten. i am afraid of the mmexican. the morbid christian artist el dia de los muertos. dark catholicism. i can see the demonns, even when they dress like angels. i can understand their language. i am immersed in the ceremony. i am part of the cherry of heaven. being popped on new years eve. and the dawning of a new age begins where light can truly be seen. it is not yet a step apart, but the glory and kindness that awaits turns into brandy pudding. set aflame awaiting a benevolent diner to extinguish the burning. like a guy in a hospital with pain. making fun of the injury. the burrito sitting in the belly. the nitrogen awaiting and building. seering through the ass flap like a whoopy contraption. i like the seering, and the burning. the fish awaits the flesh. the fish smells like mating. and no you can't have this beer. and no you aren't my friend. until you've walked through the fire you cannnot share the pleasures of being with me. you can not hit this, smoke that, inject this. this is for me until you have proved yr loyalty. you are not my friennd until you are no longer my enemy. and then ceasing to put emnity you put slavery. and i walk you around like a puppet for a period. or like a kind and loyal kanaine, but not the one that's also a swine. the human loving kind. the kind that doesn't need any fix but a smell of the homo sapein crotch. that sweet nectar of the gods. the ambrosia of life and living. the juice of fertility in the bacteria of reality. the truth of the circle jerk and the communal spirit of holy matrimony. like the marriage bed and counseling. the lookinglasself reveals nothing to nobodies and something to somebodies. when walking like a zombie self awareness becomes irrelevant. i want attention. please look and listen at mme. my ears are rinnging and mmy signs are pointing. i am aware of my own being. make it stop this ringing. this self aware being. it's making the nausea relapse. its making happiness difficult. these needs and these feelings. this drama and romance. this past and these ideas.

so i'm here in the city of brotherly love trying to give and get love when all the time love was waiting for me at home and i was too dumb to realize it while i was being boiled in the witch's cauldron and seering my flesh in my room. the way the situation works is that i'm trapped in a fictional novel where the main characters want me to follow the path that they choose and therefore i adopt them as their author, but i am writing my own story and that is hard enough. whenever i turn around there is a spider building a web in front of where i just walked. so i'm out here trying to decifer if the government is really reading my thoughts like some twisted dystopian book or if it's just faeries and magik and whatever other newfangled spellings we have for ancient ideas. anyway, the philosopher's stone is not on the internet, that's for sure. that i know. information is a crutch and it keeps us here in this world of ego. just look at the egos now - myspace, blogs - the time magazine person of the year is me? what kind of a sick joke is that to play on someone with an already slightly schitzophrenic attitude toward spies and the godliness of the individual. yes, i am man of the year and i'm man of the centry and the millenniumm. i believe in my own doctrine and that makes more dangerous than any politician or sourcerer. even open sourcerers. this text is driving me wild. i can be myself quiletly and only communicate through a chunk of plastic. oh don't i feel so good and godlike, like a snake or a rodent. a bat is a rodent with wings, and they bite, they have a thirst for blood. this plastic machine has a thirst for blood. now it's telling me how many souldiers have died in iraq. now its telling me step by step what happened the night sharon tate died. now i'm learning how to make a bomb. now i'm looking up a recipe for humble pie. now i'm eating crow. now i'm falling to pieces. now i'm cutting myself and bleeding like a putrid pile on the tile bathroom floor. bloody and dizzy. now i'm licking my wounds. now i'm pondering life. now i don't feel like dyinng annymmore. now i'm awake. now i'm alone. now i have company in the form of a plastic box. oh i love you plastic box. how i do love yr ways. i wish i could make love to you. and i do. i jack-off to your most perverse of pornography. i'm an advocate of illegal downnload. my site is censored by the BIG BROTHER filter. he shoot coka-cola, he want mojo filter. always got a $10 bill up his nose - dirty old man. laughter like mentally retarded angels. down into the deepness of humans. the vat of skin. the stinking hay piles of limbs. the trampolines of the flesh. the holes to poke with pleasure flesh. the dummb animals mmaking their dumb decisions. their lives lived like cattle and sheep. or better off pigs. or the smarter dogs. sniffing crotches, eating garbage - scraps. begging without dignity. they are the smart ones. killing foxes because they are smmaller. with beaty eyes. with possessed stares. the demon dog of berkowitz's neighbor. that told him to do things. and he listened. my roommmate listened. the whole house smelled like spraypaint. i put chicken's feet and pentegrammms on his bed. he lives with his mom now. at least i'm functional enough to have a hole of mmy ownn to get sick in. i still consume an excess of the silly fire juice. it makes me sleepy and then i can't properly explain myself, so i don't try. i feel like passing out sometimes. my daughter wakes up early and then quakkes and shakes and whole days of the week that i see her. this separation is a daring schism. i've become emo and polyamorous. she's become the same as always. but i've got my own witches - my own succubim. none of them are angels. no friends or lovers worthy of that loose term seraphim. some of the poets would throw that title around a lot in the late fifties and mid sixties. but this is not the golden age. this is new age of reason where reason is gone and the sun has become ecclipsed. eventhough it's getting warmer all the time. ice caps are melting and i am king of mmy univers, even though i feel bad sometimes. i feel lonely and unreal. these are post syd times. post john and george times. these are the dead times when the rest of the mmortals hang on to life. and our eternity seems to fade, but it's never been so close. these are the waking hours of darkness. these are the trebel sounds of a voice that used to speak but has now shut up. these are the waves after the bombs. this is the terrorismm time. this is the religious time. this is armageddon if i ever saw it. this is the apocalypse - an inconvenient truth. so we have to get our happiness together before helter skelter makes it all bad. join join join or die. join and die. die then join. either way yr making two mistakes - the first- being sad. saddness is an outdated emotion. it was used by puritans to reinforce their tactics of guilt. the second mistake is doing nothing - one who does not move is dead. one who does not make life makes death. creating is the most holy activity one can be engaged in - it inncludes music, poetry, unnprotected sex - and new experimental sexual processes, communities to connect with others - parties, the visual arts, embroidering or sewing, making useful things, those diy obsessives, duct tape, riding bikes with no wheels, that kind of thing, thinking outside pandora's box to actually believe that something might actually be possible in this world.

Howdy yall. I'm getting ready to go to Philly to reunite the old Pretensious Art Snobs crew. We're going to explode on the scene there. It seems like a fastastic institution of a city full of brotherly love. Last week I took my daughter to a RAW rally, but we got there late and most of the people had left. I want to start getting into politics again. I seem to have gotten away from that in recent times and it's time to start it up again. Indymedia is also still up and running thanks to the tireless efforts of the volunteers there. Friends Helping Friends also continues to do good things for the community. There is also an Anarchist Discussion Group in Rochester that you can attend if yr into that sort of thing. There are lots of things out there to support and get involved in. Sadly, I'm not really involved with any of them. I mostly am into doing my own thing right now which seems to be working out fairly well at the moment.

Trouble brews in the blasphemer's cauldron
The cards reveal imagination
And I will never understand the Golden Dawn until I discover myself
"Mysticism is the philosophy and practice of a direct experience of God. Christian mysticism is traditionally pursued through the practice of the disciplines of prayer (including meditation and contemplation), fasting (including other forms of abstinence and self-denial), and alms-giving, service to others, as discussed by Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7). Other forms of mysticism in general include participation in ecstatic worship and the use of entheogens; the latter is not associated with the mainstream of Christian spirituality, and the former, in a Christian context, is primarily associated with Pentecostalism. Christians believe that God dwells in them through the Holy Spirit, and that therefore, all Christians can experience God directly."
New changes make magic of the mundane
My soul ignites with unhealthy fire
A hellatious burning in my fingers and toes
Until the ecstatic reality demands more
"The god-self is what holds us together throughout these recurring disruptions. This is a wholistic core self, a heavy gravitational center which helps prevent us from flying apart."
Dost thou inspire me? ... yes
Am I lonely and bitter? ... yes
Did I trip like a bird on a wire
oh woman why do you torment me?
Why do you send my children to Molech?
I need you to carry them in, but I don't need you to mention it
Now we're moving on and we're growing out of pain's soil
The seeds of new love are being planted
Yours may be on topsoil
Mine is on desert sand
But it's a sign to move along like I do
But if they stand in the road
They will get plowed
And mauled like a grizzly
Until it all starts happening

my tragedy yields oppurtunity/once the pain goes away it'll be productive/the immunity to incarceration/the holiness of being/and being single/not owned but still not equal/the succubus bites in the worst places/where even relaxation cannot attain/my new email address is doriangray@emailaccount.com

The show on Wednesday was really wierd. The Samhain spirits cast a spell on my performance. The fascist pigs were harassing my friend before I got there, saying he looked suspicious or something. Then I played, but I don't really remember it all that well. I guess the four track was a little too loud too. Then me and Strauss did some wierd stuff together. Then Thanksgiving played. Then someone got robbed at gunpoint aparently.

I will be playing a show on wed. oct. 25 at kitchen distribution in buffalo

http://gnosis.org/ecclesia/catechism.htm
http://gnosis.org/gnostsoc/gnostsoc.htm#
http://www.ageac.org/ingles/index.htm
http://www.plymouthspiritualistchurch.org/
http://www.ulc.org/

the espers are coming tomorrow (monday) to the av space

I am involved in a collaborative musical project called Santa Sangre now with some other people. Here are some cool links:
http://espers.org/
http://www.esotericarchives.com/esoteric.htm
http://www.devipress.com/articles/jung-gnosticism/
http://www.anotherday.co.uk/
http://www.delerium.co.uk/
http://cripplecrow.com/
http://www.fairportconvention.co.uk/
http://www.gnosis.org

MAJ FOR MAYOR

R. I. P. Dr. Hunter S. Thompson
1937-2005

http://www.hoogerbrugge.com/ml.html

http://www.hoogerbrugge.com/ml.html

I'm fuckin' really strunk and blasphemous (and ever post-modern). fuckin http://members.aol.com/beyondjw

i'm a loser aparently. well anyway. this is my blog. i'm a blogger. dumb internet bullshit. pay attention. the unabomber says: http://www.thecourier.com/manifest.htm

A collection of things I wrote at work:

Oh captain morgan my captain
I sing the body electric
Two beer minimum
Amber fluid flowing
The lioness protects her cubs
Hyenas lurk chuckling in the dark
Thw whole jungle sings the song of 99 Bananas
Mix yr derangement with Pepsi
Vomit therapy

The train will not hesitate to slice you in half

A young cop stands in front of me in line at Wendy's
He eyes the buttons on my coat
I'm two parts Hunter Thompson and one part Malcolm X
I am within reach of his gun
A cool way to commit suicide
My friends would defend me saying I'd never hurt a fly
But my obituary would still say "insane dope fiend dies trying to steal cop's gun"
If I got busted I would use my one phone call to get alhold of Molly
I would tell her to call Carbon Particles and ask him if he could get ahold of any lawyers that would work for me pro-bono
Even if it was drug charges I think I could find someone for free especially if I say I'm an activist
Bail could be a problem
Bondsmen don't usually work for free

what can you do

I started reading a John Updike book but never could finish it. It didn't have references to snorting large amounts of mysterious white powders of wide open beavers in the first chapter. I find it hard to be entertained by anything that doesn't have sex, drugs and/or violence somehow involved. Pomo desensitization. Nothing shocks us anymore. I am also partial to authors that make liberal use of the so-called off-color vocabulary. Shit, fuck, dick, cunt, bitch, ass. I like the Scottish derivatives especially: shite and arse. Favorite authors: Hunter S. Thompson, Kurt Vonnegut, Chuck Palaniuk, Ken Kesey. Poets: Allen Ginsberg, Ken Rexroth

some blasphemy i didn't write at work:

(this one is also a song with melodies and accompaniments)

*Cletus Juniper*

Repulsive rabbi speaks in silent echoing voices
The disgusting delusions and dreams belonging to his beans
Trumpeter blows a fanfare
He speaks like a Siamese kitten with emphysema
Only in whispers does he speak
His gongs exploding all stages
And the disciples closely watching
His face red with the fury of the almighty
His pupils dialated in anticipation of heaven
He closes his eyes every time he says the word "belong"
Christ moved a mountain with a mustard seed in his mind
He just is doping and dreaming
He's so small he had to be a bitch in prison
Of those days he speaks quite frankly
He believes in the free expression of flatulation
His wife is polyamorous but he is celebate
He wears diamond rings on every finger
His toes beat out what the skin keeps trying to say
Jesus is a man and he lives in Montana

(untitled nonsense)

when I was younger I was poison
The sun was always out radiating joy
Banish stressful behavior
Seratonin reuptake inhibition
Noiseless machine makes everything okay
Angels came down and spun my head around
And when they were done I had lost direction
and was left with the inability to find god
I just play this dirty blues music
Beefed up with electronic steroids
Laughing at the hens with their eggs
and the roosters with their cocks
Going in guns ablaze
6-shooter in one hand
M-1 in the other
and Molotov Cocktails break spilling love all over the ground
To burn is the most selfless act
It ended the war in Vietnam
Eat the fireflies
A new meaning to smoking gun
Smelling like urine day after day




Anarchist stuff from other websites:

Does the Anarchist Cookbook really contain errors?
Yes. Lots of them. A classic error is the recipe for extracting the drug bananadine from banana peels. The flaw is that bananadine does not exist; it was mentioned in the March 1967 Berkeley Barb as a joke but the Anarchist Cookbook took it seriously. [Reference: "Storming Heaven: LSD and the American Dream, p. 336, thanks to Lamont Granquist.]

http://www.righto.com/anarchy/

Deregulating Drug Use
An Anarchist Perspective
BAD Broadside #1
The debate about drug use in this country is usually framed in terms of continued criminalization vs legalization. the positions in this debate mean continued harassment, including arrests, imprisonment, theft of property, and possibly in the near future, execution of drug dealers and users, vs legal regulation of drug use and sales, similar to that of alcohol and cigarettes, including heavy taxation, and restraints on where, when and to whom drugs can be sold. Both of these positions are based on the same assumption, government has the right to tell individuals what they can and cannot do. While legalization would surely be preferable to continued criminalization, there is a third alternative: decriminalization and deregulation. Decriminalization and deregulation of drugs would mean no laws against drugs, no government regulation of drugs sales and use, no arrests, no prisons, no taxes. Eliminating drug laws, instead of simply replacing them with different laws, would produce a free market in drugs where people would be free to sell, ingest, or inject whatever they wished, without government interference.

Drug use is a voluntary, non-violent activity, and should be an individual decision, the business of no one but the user. Government has taken it upon itself to regulate drug use, just as it regulates alcohol use, restricts abortion, and registers and drafts people. in order to better control people. Criminalization of drugs has produced, just as prohibition of alcohol did, an enormous amount of violent crime. Most of this crime is motivated by the need to obtain money to pay the artificially inflated price of illegal drugs. This drug-associated crime is then used as an excuse for police to indiscriminately harass young black men, stopping and searching, and frequently arresting them on the street, for no reason other than that they live in a "high crime" area. Doing away with drug laws would dramatically lower the cost of drugs and thereby eliminate most street crime, as well as remove the excuse police use to terrorize black people.

Decriminalization and deregulation and the resultant competitive market in drugs would produce purer and safer drugs, eliminating much of the death and illness associated with drug use, most of which is caused by contamination of drugs or needles, and unreliable drug strength, not by the nature of the drug itself. Heroin is no more dangerous than aspirin if it is carefully prepared without dangerous additives and injected with a sterile needles. And aspirin overdose can kill as easily as heroin overdose, it just takes longer and feels worse. Decriminalizing needle use would virtually eliminate the transmission of AIDS among IV drug users, as has been the experience in the 38 American states which do not restrict sale of sterile needles. Needle exchange programs are not enough; there need to be more needles available to eliminate needle sharing.

Besides abolishing laws against recreational drugs, eliminating government regulation of "therapeutic" drugs would also benefit people. The FDA prevents many drugs from reaching the market, including treatments for AIDS, cancer and other serious illnesses. And those that do eventually become available are delayed for years by FDA rules, while thousands die. The government is currently responsible for restrictions on aerosolized pentamidine, a drug which prevents Pneumocystis carinii pneumonia. the most frequent cause of death in people who have AIDS. Just as drug laws lead to deaths associated with street drugs and keep people from obtaining sterile needles to prevent transmission of AIDS, drug laws are killing people with AIDS by denying them effective treatment. Drug laws in this country are also preventing marketing of newly developed abortifacients, drugs which induce abortion early in pregnancy, freeing women from their current reliance on the medical establishment for abortion services. these drugs would put the decision about abortion where it belongs: with the individual.

Eliminating drug laws would greatly increase people's options in the areas of pleasure and health. It would also reduce crime, reduce death and illness associated with illegal drug use, and reduce deaths from AIDS and other serious illnesses. Individuals should be free to make their own decisions about drug use, and all other aspects of their lives, without the interference of government or "the community".


bbrigade@world.std.com


November, 1988

http://world.std.com/~bbrigade/badbsd1.htm

i update this rarely to never. here are some ramblings that i'm making up as i go along.

rare wine tasting like metallic paint slide down bitch's throat like robitussin
group thereapy teaches how to cope with the pain of rape and underground dog fighting
failure to communicate
loss of grip on reality
inability to cope with threatening forces
lazer beams and pulse beam emmitters
laboritory jokes
kids feeding wine to monkeys addicted to cigarettes and hurling feces
i am lonely and misunderstood
i am so pretesious and emo
i work at a group home
rabbit stew with a basil garnish
the yumminess of barbarism
selfish practitioner of the occult arts
new age yuppies
richies and trustafarians
monroe ave where the rich and crackheads meet
poverty rears its ugly face
quarter dime nickel penny
rochester is the most pomo city i've been in
it afflicts my worldview
i am sick with the desire for something new
and my bestial instincts
sweating at the thought of masturbating in the woods
my poetry becomes obscene
oh no, this is the internet
the realm of porn and aol and the department of homeland security
my paranoia
the disease
the radicals with their black umbrellas at the reflecting pool
shouting 'hey hey ho ho' and nothing comes after
no more message, just ritual
take is broken left wing and learn to fly
viva zapata is john mccain's favorit movie
fuck the john-john dems for prez
skull and bones conspiracy
conceding the race
one hand washes the other
secret societies take care of their own
bohemian grove
frusteration and postmodernism
tactics aren't working
militancy, not pacifism
long live FARC and the other drug-runnging guerrillas
they will save colombia and amerika and the world
if you want to know what i really think you'd better be strip searched
the wires will kill me
i'll cut them out of my neck with a spoon
and the cow jumped over the moon

http://www.crumbmuseum.com/
http://www.drugsanddreams.com

http://www.third-plateau.org/knowledgebase/misc.shtml#enema
How to Perform a DXM Enema: a study in perversion




The DXMenema is a method of ingestion of cough suppressant that some find useful because they cannot consume DXM any other way with out becomeing nauseous, the procedure may make you nauseous, but it won't be due to your stomach not likeing the syurp or the powder.


Materials:
DXM powder.
An oral syringe, it is a 10mL (10cc) syringe with no needle, it is used to give little kids medicine. Some water.
About 1mL worth of alcohol.
A regular fleet enema
Your favorite lubricant, I would suggest anal eze...

Procedure:

1. Fast for 12 to 24 hours, the longer you fast the less material will be in your system and you don't have to worry about everything coming out as you are sitting there typing on your computer... In my experience 12 hours isn't really enough, you don't want anything in your lower intestine...
2. Prepare the oral syringe. To do this take a shot glass and put 5 mL's of water in it (use the markings on the syringe), then put about 1mL of your alcohol in there, I used Johnny Walker Black Label, but any hard alcohol will work, don't use denatured alcohol or anything type of alcohol that is not meant for human consumption. Then add however much DXM powder you need into the shot glass. It isn't going to mix that well with the alcohol and water, but all you need to do is get it in the syringe. So suck up the DXM juice into the syringe, if you have to add more water to get all the powder in there. Now you have a DXM rectal injection tool ready. You can put in more water depending on how much DXM you are using, I had a really bad cough the day I did it so I used 500mg of DXM, it worked, experiment to find the right amout of liquid for you.
3. Use an enema now, just a regular one but get all the shit out. I did not do this, trust me it is a good idea..
4. Inject the Syringe full of DXM into your ass (this is also known as grabing your ankles and squealing like a pig). This is pretty graphic. You want to get it up there, the nerve endings are in your asshole itself, you don't want to get any of the DXM juice on there or it will burn. So shove it in and inject the liquid. Lubricant is a good idea too.
5. Lie on your side, or on your head, this is to give the liquid sometime to get into your system without walking around leaking...
6. Between 15-30 minutes later you will feel the effects. I have found this to be a decent method of ingesting cough suppressant.



Other Notes:

I only did this one time, it isn't that comfortable doing all of that, and I am not sure how good it is for your lower intestine. But it did work well so... I felt this was a necessary experiment to help out my fellow dexers, it isn't comfortable, but if you are getting sick everytime you are using powder, then this maybe worth trying, it does burn a little as you leak, but if you avoid leaking you should be ok. i.e. lie on your side for like 30 minutes. Also the buzz does come on different, it is pretty neat, give it a shot and post what ya think. Oh yeah the alcohol in the syringe is intended to help the DXM dissolve a little bit more in the solution. I'm not doing it again because I don't get sick taking DXM orally.

---Gdog
http://www.third-plateau.org/knowledgebase/misc.shtml#enema

Try having no head.

dragons ripping boing going grabby grabby in the western hemisphere
rock and roll nightmare
believe in the misunderstood banker or novelist or better astronaut
greedy sticky fingers finding money on coffee tables of unsuspecting spectators
bewildered herd electing figures make fecal decisions in the bathroom
rune card reading 777 on the mexicali floor for forgiving nevermind
mailing the promise of forty acres and a mule to ride into urban wastelands and ghettos in on but no palm branches frame the path
imprisoned in the city
trapped in the blight or might makes right
police and cars whistling past making yr day a little less happy or convenient
perculiar

I realize that I haven't updated this page in a while. We're in Rochester. I have decided that I am a mystic. Here is a website http://www.digiserve.com/mystic/index.html

We're in a rest area in North Dakota where they have free internet. Wierd eh. Anyway, I'm feeling a little homesick and lonely. Here is an angry poem.

*Growl*

shhh, I am a secret
I am angry but don't let them on
swallowed too many capsules that come from horse hooves to be vegan
balance and disorder chill together on the couch in my mind's waiting room
and heavy metal falls from the sky
going *tink*tink*tink* on the marble floor
represent my rotting teeth
stuck in succession with the devil and the angels
happy to make peace
but proud to disturb it
I don't know about you but there are a lot of things in this world that piss me off
and that i can't change
and that pisses me off more
like vote for donkey to banish the monster
how was the RNC? and how are those petitions going?
A petition never blew up a building
but the anarchists did
they blew up parliament in NAZI Germany
and hitler killed them
but these days death is much quieter

Wooo! we are in michigan going insane from uppers and sleep deprivation. wooo!

I am changing my pseudonym to Dorian Gray after the Oscar Wilde book because the music is different (more experimental and less emo) and the subject matter is somewhat different. The answer to Hastheboyfallen? is "yes, he has." Being homeless is wonderful so far. At this point I would recommend it to anyone looking for some liberation. Here's a happy poem:

*This Chair is a Nihilist*

The holes in my brain I don't mind
As long as i can feel it in my face
And my arms
Float like they were wings
Funny little things
They call them fingers but I've never seen them fing
It isn't a small world
Actually it's very big
And despite the six degrees there's still a lot to see
And the dope doesn't decieve me like parents and politicians do
I like my life and I love you
I care not if tomorrow I die
Because I wouldn't die without having lived life
Like so many that are still alive
I may go gentle into the night
But I still love my life
And that may be the most insane thing of all
Sometimes I feel like I am the only happy person in the world

I am going to be on the road like Kerouac very very soon with my love Maggie.  You can reach us at this e-mooil address: crustyrobot@emailaccount.com
"Love will carry us through
The good and bad days
Read the angels when they breathe
Get lost in the drive
You are the only drug I need
Goodbye this life goodbye"
I love you all Brockport/Rochester people, especially the family dan, julie, jeremey, carl, pat.  I will miss you.  Like julie wrote, our lives our a cookie sheet that's all cooked together, where do we separate them.  I didn't paraphrase that as nearly as eloquently as she wrote it, but it was a great poem that brought tears to my eyes.  Good luck everyone.  I will be thinking about you.

My name is Mitch and these are my thoughts...

$20 bills and empty liquor bottles lay calmly on the coffe table next to cigarette butts and glass pipes. A syringe is surely falling to pierce the toe of a guru. Happy faces reveal the bags under the eyes of ghosts. A smile is a curse and I know you know what it is. And it seems like yr always backwards in the mirror. And it seems like yr always backwards. But does a heart pump blood if the aortic chambers are on opposite sides? And do we really know the white devil yet? Beneath the coffee stains and chicken bones the coffin of black nationalism is rolling around. Can we recover? Or are we a doomed race? I never knew killing whitey would be so painful. I wrote a poem last night about friends and how I have none. That's a larf. A continuation of the story of the DC trip: Went through Conesus Lake and Livonia rocking old timey music. Reminded me of Christina and that party. There is an awkward silence in the car. It and the wind and maybe the MAOI's make my ears ring. Stopped at a truck stop near Bath. Rednecks started asking us what our T-shirts say. *****'s had an upside down Amerikan flag and "Fuck right off" on his. The protest was fun. We burned some flags. We had to go party in the car afterwards because our host didn't want drugs or alcohol in the house. I had a great time in the DC slums. We got some herb from a crackhead and hung out in a revolutionary resturaunt and had conversations with the black nationalists who own it. One of them said, "If you see a rich person, shoot them." I wondered if I should shoot all the condo dweller in the neighborhood in which we were staying. The pro-choice march on the last day was kind of boring. We got lost looking for the unpermitted radical-bloc march. We eventually found it by following the bike-pigs. Somehow we got separated from the radical-bloc and had to hang with the more "mature" (older) liberal crowd at the Planned Parenthood rally. It was very boring. We ended up leaving early. I got some hugs from old friends I haven't seen in a while. On the subway I talked to this girl sitting next to me about politics. I think she was flirting with me. She touched me at one point. I like outkast. He doesn't.

*Sisters of Socialization*

Look at me, I'm not that bad
I got thrown in with the wrong crowd
I am a pirate and outlaw
Druggie shoplifting anarchist
And I am a criminal, but not a revolutionary
You drink to me
I'll toke twice for you
Chained by the oppression of distant geography
So much depends on location
And the space-time continum
So take these, my drinks and my tokes, to escape time-space
Because we all want something different
But none of us know how to get it
So some of us break windows, some of us vote, some of us go to marches and some of us retreat into the mental embrace of drugs
Recently I've found myself in the latter category
But when the chemical haze wears off capitalism and my lonliness still exists
And although I'm often distracted from it by bright shining moments
My misery is always there
And all I have to show is a half-smoked cigarette, a blunt roach and $1.53 until next week
No hickies or used condoms
And I didn't save the world
And the revolution didn't come
Sometimes I think it never will

*The Low Life*

I was a lost soul swimming in a vast aquarium of existence
The blood and the veins
Fill the holes
To rid me of the pain of living
Neither alive nor dead
Just comfortably numb
To dull the pain of living
And the realization that I am not a revolutionary
Only a failed visionary
One of the last of the dreamers
A generations crippled by junkieism and neurosis
The last personal adventure
Clip and paste
The words on the page aren't even my own
How's this for originality
One thousand skulls picking god's nose
It's easy to paint a picture with black
When everything's a copy of a copy of a copy
Sweat that shite out of yr system
Broken bones
It's just my fucking jones
Nothing's going to bring me back
Tomorrow I pack my bags for the moon
This earth has only disappointed me
Wars, class, power, the meaninglessness of change
The meaninglessness of protest
The meaninglessness of originality
The shattered dream of a revolution
And the retreat back into the deepest corners of the mind
Searching the soul for a fraction of the spark that once fueled my own personal Jihad
Everything seems to me coming full circle
And the pressure on my temples is symbolic of the shackles on my liberty
Will I one day snap?
Will weapons be involved?
Am I just confused?
I am lonely
Just let me fuck you, anyone will do
I am tired
Let me rest
It's been a long journey
And there's still so far to go


"On April 25th, Anarchists not only failed feminism, but anarchism itself. Instead of an anarchist presence which aligned itself with feminism and directly supported the expression of feminist anger, we showed ourselves as opportunists and holier than thou radicals with a lack of respect for the feminist majority and the important work they do. Our actions were more antagonistic to the goals of the day and our feminist allies rather than supportive." <- This was me, I am an antagonist, not a protagonist.

i think i've started to realize that i've been feeling sorry for myself way too much. as much as i think i'm oppressed in this country, there are people who have it a hell of a lot worse than me. i mean, yes, it's very fucked up that we have a society where i have to work 25 hours a week just to make rent and i still don't have enough money for food, health insurance or a car. oh yeah, i was down today pretty hard because the reality of losing my car just hit. the mobility and freedom that it once gave me (it was in fact my ticket to liberation when i was 17) is gone all of the sudden. although i'm much freer now that i've been dispossessed by the car, i can't help feeling oppressed by the fact that i can't just drive wherever the hell i want. of course, walking is a hell of a lot better for individual health and the environment, but walking is also limited to how far one can go before getting exhausted. i was walking on the grass today. they tell you to walk on the sidewalk, but the grass is made for walking on. it's so much more comfortable and natural than pavement. well, i guess the grass around here isn't all that natural. Ok, so I guess I lost track there. Anyway... what was I saying. Nothing I suppose.

I'm writing from someone's house in VA, about half an hour from DC. It is a really nice condo in a really fancy neighborhood. This is the first time in a while that I haven't stayed at a place with garbage on the floor. I wrote something in the car today... "Went through Conesus Lake and Livonia rocking old timey music. Reminded me of Christina and that party. There is an awkward silence in the car. It and the wind and maybe the MAOI's make my ears ring. stopped at a truck stop near Bath. Rednecks started asking us what our t-shirts say. One of my comrades had an upside down Amerikan flag and "Fuck Right Off" on his." I hope this weekend continues to be interesting. I don't think the revolution is coming, but I'm sure some people do. globalize this

I feel really stagnant. I've become a bit anti-social lately. And I've been reading William Burroughs, which makes me think about junkyism a lot. I've been writing a lot of songs and poems. I suppose that's a good thing. The gospel of Strauss. Vulture's Kiss. I ran into one of my Professors today. He asked me if I was still writing. I told him that I was... a lot. I have to or else I'll die. I don't think they understand Straussism. No one likes a bong hoarder, and no one likes a Nitrous Whore. What are you doing on 4:20 on 4/20? Then on 4/23-25? Ahhh fuck. Well this weekend Defiance, Ohio is playing in Buffalo.friday april 9th


evil robot us`. defiance ohio. erik peterson. hissy fit. the midwest breaking.


buffalo- 29 custer. 5pm $5
I wanted to say a million things, but I can't think of them. Ephedrine is a listed chemical under the Chemical Diversion
and Trafficking Act of 1988 (CDTA) (Pub. L. 100-690). Under
provisions of the CDTA (21 U.S.C. 802(34)(c)), thresholds were
originally assigned to each listed chemical. The CDTA imposes
reporting and recordkeeping requirements for regulated transactions
which meet or exceed these threshold amounts of a listed chemical.
I don't go to school here anymore. This place is bad vibrations I think. There is nothing but small minded young-republicans, meat-heads, box-heads. Fuckers basically. I've got to get home before all the beers are drunk. Oh..., if yr interested... I am starting a label of sorts, non-profit. Mostly tapes, but maybe some CD's or even vinyl if possible (probably not). It's called Inner Space Recordings and here's the catalogue as it sits:
Hastheboyfallen - A Whole Bunch of Songs About Love, Revolution and Grass
Buddah's Tits - Anthology Vol. I
Pretnesious Art Snobs - POMO
Has Anyone Killed Sigmon Freud Yet - S/T
Metro-Rochester Art-Punk Comp. featuring Hastheboyfallen, Forgotten Figures Falling Together Between Two Twigs, That Kid and the Other Guy, Pretensious Art Snobs, Buddah's Tits and Has Anyone Killed Sigmon Freud Yet

All of these are available on request. I have to make the tapes before I can give them to you so let me know if you want one. I guess you can't e-mail me since I don't have an e-mail so let me know in person.

Well, I guess my e-mail is down. I haven't checked it in a while, but I don't think they cancelled my service. I think the server is just down or something. Whatever. Today I had a terribly disconcerting dream. It basically ended with me sleeping in the woods in the middle of winter and calling a land-lord a "fucking bitch." I went to sleep early last night. It was about 11:30 when I passed-out. I woke up at two with that awkward nightmare feeling. I like nighmares because the adrenaline secretion makes it somewhat uncomfortable but also somewhat euphoric. I haven't had a nightmare in a long time. My dreams have been real vivid lately. And they come almost every night now. I haven't dreamed like this since I was a little kid. Good, but it means something's bothering me. Anyway, this morning I wrote the following poems:

*Never Sleep*

I was in a dream drinking 40 oz and a smoking a spliff
When the shit hit the fan and we suddenly had no home
Somehow the nightmare was so real
Like nothing's the same when you don't feel safe
Somehow the world was changed
And it made me use parts of my brain I haven't used in a while
After all these years god hasn't returned any of my calls
I didn't leave you god
You left me
And really how safe can anything be
When yr living life at 90 mph
I guess it's just another worthless workless Wednesday
And tomorrow there's work to do
Something about the way the chords melt into her voice reminds me of someone I once knew
She was beautiful and brilliant
Aloof as me
But hermits never fall in love
And I will never fall in love again
This house's spector visits me
She is friendly and offers me a cup of chamomile to sedate my mental wounds
So I try to close my eyes and see the things the spector is trying to show me
And as much as I'd like to embrace the dream
I have to stay in my own reality
They can't understand the complexities of the steel drum sound
And its echos through this haunted house
All this sexless, loveless impotence only reminds me
Touching my own penis is never quite the same
So maybe I'm confused about what I want
Maybe I do lack direction
But they've never understood me
And they never will
Because I didn't leave god
You left me
And now I'm losing all the phone numbers
The spice of life never tasted quite so bitter
Today was merely a movement in the opium opus
And the nightmare merely a cadence
I love the cat but does he still love me?

*Meridian and the Items to Discuss*

Look at the lonely loser
Cigarettes and coffee won't scare off the demons forever
And television only makes them worse
Where is my Latin Princess
Where is my heart of gold and my land flowing with milk and honey
Can anyone be entitled to anything
Ah the intricacies of sexual frusteration
And mo(u)rning necessary losses
I passed out ahead of schedule today
(I don't sleep anymore, I just pass out)
And now I'm at a loss as to what to do with myself
I want passion when all I have is stagnance
I want sex when all I have is drugs
I want faith when all I have is the critical eye
But haha, the joke's on you
You'll never have me
And goddammit, I am oh so good
Animals sleep but I do not
Is the moon full
I can't see
Yesterday was so bright
The way the sun reflected off the snow
It makes a boy proud to be alive
Because I will never be a man
This is my Never-neverland
So let's never mention it again

*The Sonambulist*

My man walks in his sleep when he's passed-out drunk and pisses on stuff
But we love him and wouldn't trade him for the world
He's never nervous when drunk
And often embarassed when sober
But we love him and hope he'll never be too embarassed to stay
Pass-out on our couch after confusing nights at the bar
Just keep him away from glass
He might bleed
And maybe he drinks a little much
But don't we all in our own little ways
Leave my man alone
If it's wounded let it bleed
And aren't we all bloody and invalids
Infirmed up north and down south
The poles of sense and senselessness
So drink yr beers
Smoke yr bowls
Have yr fun
Because in the end
You'll be done

*La Jota de Mota*

Allow me to savor this puff
And then let the world know I'm here
My clothes smell like ganj
And my breath smells like beer

Allow me to paint with THC
The colors of the mind
Different shades for moods that change with the seasons
What worldly marvels we can find

Allow me to ask the guru these question
Scribbled on a napkin in haste
Do they even have answers
Or was this whole train of thought a waste

Allow me to smoke one more jay
And then we'll see true color
Is it Jah of the Great Spirit
Or is it a lover

I have a feeling today is going to be a productive day

Hi, it's been a long time since I've posted anything on this board, but here I go. Here's a poem:

*salvia song*

Sage smoke instantly fills yr head with divinity
There is not one god but many
And we're learning that everyday
Because nothing's the same when you smoke the divine sage
Welcome to the carnival of the mind
Now you know the way to the cerebral coney island
And you can feel the fever sweating hot and cold at the same time
And you want to take a shower but the bunnies won't let you
And as the laughter surfaces you realize
There is not one god but many
Because nothing's the same when you smoke the divine sage.

*A Poem*

Take me away from here
This bleeding chair
And these stained sheets
Fly me to the moon
I'll drop it like a cannon ball
Rid the universe of this curse called the human race
I'd look up yr number
If you had a name
Guitars made out of shoe-boxes and rubber bands
We'd sing the songs that belong to eternity
And when a child humms them a hundred years from now we'll know we are immortal
And we've known we are immaterial
But what does it mean if I just want to take yr clothes off, smoke chronic and drink gin
Get more fucked-up than I've ever been
Wearing sunglasses and rubbers made for sensitive skin
Got a haircut like a muther fucking shark fin
Stay a little while and I'll tell you where I've been
I broke out of prison with a bobby pin
I ran for every kind of office though I know I can't win
Got beat by the pigs until they broke my shin
Shit!
These eyes have seen things that words could never do justice to
And I guess I'd say I'm beginning to feel the heat
Loosening my tie
Untucking my shirt
I want to tell the world how dead they all are

So insomnia has got me again. This time I'm in an emotional crisis. Well, more details later I guess.

If anyone has a copy of my cd Six Degrees of Separation Anxiety please contact me immediately. The master was lost when my car was broken into a few months ago and I'd like to have it for my own records and so I can do a hastheboyfallen anthology containing some songs from it.

Click on this and have yr mind blown.

I missed the Dick Cheney protest today and I'll never forgive myself. It's not like I had anything to do. It's just that I slept through it. I slept until 2:30pm today. That's nothing though, the night before I slept until 4:00 until someone finally called me for 4:20 festivities. I will never forgive myself and my laziness. I am pathetic.

So, a lot has already happened. The biggest news is that I've decided to quit doing drugs for a week. This especially includes nicotine, caffiene and thc, which are the drugs that I tend to do the most. Last week I went on a bit of a drug binge that included three hits of blotter lsd, 1800 mg of caffiene, unquantifiable amounts of reefer/thc-resin, two 40 oz bottles of olde english malt liquor, 300 mg of dxm, 40 grams of nutmeg, 1/8 oz of psilocybin mushrooms and four packs of cigarettes. Needless to say, I needed a break. So here I am, it's the afternoon of my first drug free day in a while. I feeling good. I'm not feeling any withdrawl effects that come with certain addictions. I think most of my addictions are mental anyway. Last night I took two caffiene pills, drank a 40 and smoked some resin and I felt kind of like I was rolling on MDMA. An interesting feeling I must say. For those of you who are reading this saying, "Wow! What a dope fiend, it's good he's quitting, even if only for a limited time," you should know that it's mostly exaggeration. For those of you reading this saying, "No way dude, I've done way more drugs than that and I'm just fine," you should know that it's worse than it sounds. And for those of you saying, "This man must truly be a genius," you should know that it's all true.

I have a love hate relationship with insomnia. Sometimes I'd like to sleep, but sometimes it's nice to be up all night. I like seeing the sun set and rise all in the same day. It's a perspective that nobody but insomniacs really see. On the other hand, when you have insomnia you desparately want something to do, but there is nothing! Nothing is open at 6am. It's a time that most people are sleeping through. Yr not supposed to be up between the hours of 3-6am. Those three hours are reserved for the freaks. They're the only ones who stay up long enough to consciously wander through them. Anyway, here I am in the library trying to figure out what to do with my day, which right now seems very long. I'll probably sleep like a baby tonite. I'll wake up late for work and they'll scold me, maybe even suspend me, or fire me if I'm really lucky. Here's the dilemma, I've been up since 2pm yesterday. Before that I was sleeping so deeply that a vacuum cleaner didn't even wake me up. I slept the best I have in months. But now I'm stuck in this state. The problem is, since I slept so late my biological clock is all thrown off so I took some caffene pills to keep me out of that not-quite-awake-but-not-quite-asleep state. Now I'm so wired I couldn't sleep if I was dead. Anyway, the show for tonite was cancelled. Don't bother going to Roberts if you don't go to school there. It's an evil place full of Christians ready to damn yr soul into hell. The only problem is, it leaves me with a hole in my day and since I've been up since yesterday, there's a space of too many hours that I need to fill with something. My roommate was up quite late too. He's done a few too many all-nighters. He's an insomniac to the core. I, on the other hand, only dabble in insomnia occationally. He forced himself to go to bed last night. Maybe I should have done the same, but I didn't want to waste this strange energy. I couldn't lay idle in a bed with my eyes uncontrollably, painfully open all night. No, that wouldn't be practical. So I guess it's good that I'm on this journey. All-nighters are exciting as long as they're not a regular habit. Then they're just annoying.

This Thursday I'm playing at Robert's Weslyan College in Chili with Talal Cocker. I'm not sure exactly where it's going to be, but I'll post more info as soon as I get it (probably tomorrow).

A poem is a poem that is not alone only if it does not sleep by itself...

*Second Glance At a Blood Stained Veil*

I could see the light creeping in from the crack inbetween the door and the wall
It was bleeding onto my face like the web from a spider's ass
I woke up gently to find my body not in the most comfortable of positions
I proceeded to try and find my way up, but my limbs were numb
After the tingly feeling all over my body subsided I was able to move
It felt so good to move
And just be free and just AWAKE!
It's like the sound of a freight elevator in the middle of a drug-awareness video
The kind they used to show us in eighth grade
How did they expect us to understand then
We were just little kids
We didn't know anything about spirits or ghosts or consciousness
They didn't teach us that which was once so important to the human family
They only taught us death and hell and rules
We never learned dances or freedom or imagination
We learned facts and figures and statistics and dates
Well that's all HORSE SHIT!
I defy you school system
I defy yr hidden curriculum
I defy yr dream assasinations
I defy yr rule crazy pig-fucking system
And I object to the horror that you continue to put the children of this human family through
I object to the indoctrination
I object to the flag-sucking, bible-thumping patriotic ameriKKKan dream
I object to teaching Reganism and Swartzeneggerism and Trickle Down Technophile Shitstem Economics
I will burn yr flag
I will break yr laws
I will steal and scam and subvert
I will grow whatever I want
I will smoke whatever I want
I will eat whatever I want
I will read whatever I want
I will love whatever I want
I will worship however I want
I will take my life if I want to
I will smoke a cigarette wherever the fuck I want
Because I am soverign
I am my own master and I will bring you down
With my bare hands I will tear down the walls of yr castle
And like Robin Hood I will steal from the rich and give to the poor
Every culture has a Robin Hood story
And Robin Hood is always the hero
Because Robin Hood is for the people
And there ain't no power like the power of the people because the power of the people don't stop
So I can swim naked in a pond at 2am if I want to
And I can smoke whatever I want inside a public building if I want to
And I can fuck whatever gender I want to fuck
And I can write and grow and learn and read and think and ingest and smoke and listen and watch whatever the fuck I want
Because I am soverign
I am my own master
I saw my own face in the sky
And then I watched it crumble and fall
Like the towers of Jericho
There I was on the ledge with god
She was scrawling something onto a stone tablet
But it was just gibberish
God wasn't writing anything
It was Moses
Moses was the asshole
He made up all those rules
Fuck Moses
Fuck Jesus
Fuck Muhhammed
I am my own prophet.

ok, I finally did it. I'm pathetic, I know. But I'm also very lonely. I posted a personal ad on the High Times website. Who knows, maybe it'll help me become famous. View my profile here.

Came across this site in my travels. Pretty interesting.

Going to a protest this weekend in DC. It's anti-occupation. More info:
http://www.internationalanswer.org/campaigns/o25/index.html
http://www.unitedforpeace.org/
http://www.bvfp.org/
http://www.abolishthebank.org/

check out DC IMC for updates on what's going on there.

“You state things like, it could cause a user to fall asleep while driving. What idiot would use this while trying to drive a car?”
- a 23-year-old Salvia defender in Pittsburgh, PA

*Hark*

Laughter is amplified by the screeching of wolves outside
The moon is a hole in the sky obscured by fog
The howling wind is a darkness to the eardrum
And laughter never sets

Boring moon and stars
Why do you shine so bright
Hurting the eyes of the gouls and vampires out here tonite
Why would you bring our spirits here

Waves of light spread violently across my body
Engulfing my flesh with flames
But who can burn the master's house without first lighting a match
And why do you want me to be the bait

Grass grows and fog still burns bright
Tigers lurk behind every tree stump
The snake will offer you the apple
If you eat it you will be blessed with mortality

Science is trying to fight nature. Nature always wins.

black as night
blue as day
the colors on the pedals of the flowers fading away
the flower closing up
there will be no white kristmas this year
there will be no celebration
these are times of morning
birds are dying
and our cars are killing them
how much did you pay for that?
i want that money back!
no yes no yes no
i have given up on you
why don't you give up on me

I typed in Gonzo in the a search field and here are the more interesting results:
http://www.gonzo.org/ - this was kind of what I was looking for - a site about Hunter S. Thompson
http://members.tripod.com/gonzolinks/ - a left-oriented conspiracy theory site
http://www.gonzoturtle.com/ - some pretty shitty writings by a sexually-frusterated wanna-be author
http://www.muppets.com/profiles/gonzo.htm - a biography on Gonzo the Muppet - this dude is almost as cool as HST
http://www.gonzoscience.com/ - just some wierd science shit

*Hope(less)*

I'm sorry to interrupt yr peace with a red pillow on a black background
I hate fade into the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Laughing at the frogs who take their time on lilly pads at Lethe
I wanted to buy amyl nitrate from the queer monk who always gives me the eye
But I was broke
And the eye was red
But I only wanted to sleep
I'm hiding yr face in the sheets
And yr not hiding me because I'm running
You can't stop running once you've started
And you can never get tired
I guess I gave up a long time ago
And I'm not trying to please anybody anymore
I like my smell
I like dirt
And I like this life
But nothing good ever lasts
Nothing gold can stay
And that's why I've found a new hope in hopelessness
Because poppers fuck yr mind
And destroy the fabric of time and space
They're just little ripples in the big lake
And at the end of the line the Great Spirit is waiting to take us away
One last roadtrip before the break of dawn
And we'll laugh and laugh before this trip is done
I'm gonna get you for what you've done, said the monk
I'm gonna die in here if you don't let me out
This furnace is killing me and god isn't going to save me
The king will never praise my faith
And the angel Gabriel wouldn't lift a finger for the likes of me
Before dawn breaks we're going to be older
And we'll never be the same again
Nothing staying the same
Always changing
Shapes, patterns, clouds moving
Our sky is not the same as their sky
We are glow-in-the-dark nighlights flashing across the cornfield at 4:20am
And I have had enough of this game
I can't play Tetris when yr fucking my brain
Is the answer yes or no
Is it ambiguous like everything else
I'd like to change the time and date
But there's no off switch on this machine
And you can't always control a dream
Wake me up in time for class
Or don't
It doesn't really matter
Life is in a constant state of motion
Like the shadows on the wall as they crawl like spiders toward the cheese in the corner
But it's a trap
I should have told those mice not to go in there
Now they'll die and it was all my fault
But the moon is shining like a silver dollar tonite
And the sun hasn't even gone down
It reminds me of driving to my girlfriend's house and making-out on a snowey hill in twilight time
Then fucking around in the basement of someone's house
I don't remember that time all too well
The drugs are getting to me
And so is the air
I need to go outside
Breathe something fresh
I need to stop writing
I need some coffee
Fresh coffee
Fair trade, organic
I need to stop smoking
I need to stop drinking
I need to stop taking pain-killers and psychedelics and entheogens
I need sex and I need to have pain again
I know too many pain junkies
And I guess it's not for me
My self-destruction takes on other forms
This is not a cry for help
It's just a cry
I just want someone to listen
Won't you please listen to me sing
I am singing a song I wrote for you
It's called, "how to fall asleep without dying"
I think you can understand
The refrain goes, "listen to yr eyes as they move around in yr skull"
And I think that it's gonna be alright
Could you tell that I'm just fine
I'm actually quite alright
I don't need you and I don't need anything
I just need myself
So I'm being honest and sober and serious
This is no time to be fooling around
These are critical times hard to deal with
And I can't deal with them anymore
But as much as this world brings me down
I don't let it get to me
They're just haters and they don't understand
You are amazing and so am I
That's why we don't need tears just yet
Or we do need tears and that's what makes us different from them
They have no spirit
They don't know how to cry
They are not metaphysical beings and we are
They don't have a heart
And you do and so do I
We're better than them
We're better than those flag-sucking, bible-thumping, bomb-fucking, ass-kissing squares
Am I artistic enough?
I've never thought about it
I think I'm too honest to be an artist
Everything I write is autobiographical
Except sometimes I lie
I used to lie a lot
I don't see the need to anymore
I never lie to other humans
Only to machines
To the bosses and the professors and the law
These people don't have spirits
They've been broken by the man
They can't even feel anymore
I'm pretty fucked up, but at least I can still feel
At least I still have a spirit and at least I'm still human

excerpt from my book Frequencies of Consciousness:
"When I was in England, I experimented with marijuana a time or two, and I didn't like it. I didn't inhale, and never tried it again."
- Bill Clinton

Old Billy from Arkansas, the scourge of Kosovo, smoked pot in college. It seems like college is a time for that kind of thing: Discoveries about life. The problem with universities as I see them is that it’s too caught up in the competitive spirit of capitalism. In the past the idea of universities was noble. The ancient Greek gymnasiums were all about bettering yrself. Okay, the idea of universities was never noble. The concept has always been essentially flawed. It’s too coercive. There’s too much pressure to “be the best.” It’s all bullshit: Individualism and competition. College as an institution is pretty shitty, but there are fun things about it: the parties, the drinking, meeting new people, learning about life. College is a lot better than high school. It’s the lesser of two evils. High school is like prison. It’s the most restrictive organization you could put kids into next to Juvie. That’s why kids turn against each other. They come into school with guns and blast each other. People say the solution is more authority, but that is exactly the problem. The Israelis and Palestinians have been fighting for years because they don’t understand the concept that more authority is what is escalating the problem. An overabundance of authority leads to the kind of desperation that would drive someone to murder. In the words of Marilyn Manson (the poster-child for Lost Generation apathy) ‘go ahead and kill yrself, yr already dead.’ We’ve been blaming the victim for too long. Look at things sociologically, not psychologically.
The Amerikan Dream is dead. None of us really believe it anymore, but we still mindlessly repeat it until one day we snap. Mid-life crises are a form of violence. It’s people in the post-dream part of their lives lashing out at society for not fulfilling its promises of a happy life. Old men smoking grass, buying fast cars and fucking younger wimyn. Old wimyn popping Valium, drinking excessively and fucking younger men. These are cries for help. It’s desperation. Generation X is just starting to reach this stage now. What a strange time to be alive. There are snipers just randomly shooting people out of desperation. This country has perpetrated 500 years of violence against dark-skinned people – officially and unofficially. I can understand why a dark-skinned person might get a gun. Doesn’t mean I agree with it, but I understand it. And when you have a gun the next step is to use it. I don’t’ like guns, but I think if the pigs and the military are going to have guns then the people should have guns too to level the playing field a bit. I don’t give a shit about the second amendment. The constitution is a class-document that legitimized slavery. But I think that until all weapons can be destroyed those who feel the need to protect themselves should be able to. If our society weren’t so filled with fear and competition people wouldn’t be so likely to use them.

My life is in a downward spiral. I think it's the fever that's making me lonely and introspective... and maybe a little depressed. Here's a poem I wrote about the alternative:

*Last Communique to Society*

The world is cruel and the world is not us
The world could never satisfy our needs
No more waiting for heaven
We've always had the option to leave
This is what happens when you stop chasing the Amerikan dream
Because that's not the dream you want
We want to drop our coins in a vending machine and choose our own muther fucking dream
we want to go backwards in time
We want to break every rule and then break them all again
Because this isn't working for me
i don't know about you
just me
And I can never call this freedom

Reality, or at least I guess that's what most people call it, finally hit. Today I realized that walking around in a drug frenzy all the time never knowing what's going on doesn't rid you of the shitty things in life, it only alleviates them for a time. I've been sick with some sort of viral infection for a week, high on Dextromethorphan, Ibuprofen, Acetaminophen, Pseudoephedrine, Doxylamine Succinate, Guaifenesin and my good old stand by Tetrahydrocannabinol the whole time. I got my car broken into. I am completely broke. I've missed a lot of work. I'm behind in college. But still, I'm not breaking down like I would have if I was at the emotional stage I was probably less than a year ago. I think I'm finally starting to realize the Amerikan experience. This is what it's like to live in Amerika today. It sucks and most of it is due to fascist authority, but it still can be what you make it if you live life passionately. I'm going to film class now because it's fun. All we do is watch films.

On Saturday my car was broken into outside of the Water St. Music Hall. It was pretty crazy. I've never been the victim of crime before, so this was definately a new experience for me. Even though it's going to be a real pain in ass getting everything sorted out, trying to find money to pay for it and lamenting over the irreplacable items that had sentimental value, I'm not real upset about it. Life goes on just as it did before. I think I've come to realize that possessions are fleeting. Easy come, easy go. So I don't miss them because what's the point in missing them. Possessions don't have personalities. You can't call them when yr feeling down. I'm glad I had my friends there to help me through it because I realized that it's relationships with people, not material possessions that are important.

http://www.claykeck.com/patty/

Here's a food journal I had to do for one of my classes:

The agricultural revolution was known as the beginning of human civilization. What does it mean to be civilized, though? Does it mean that we’re any freer? Do we have more free time? Not necessarily. In fact, the invention of totalitarian agriculture (that agriculture which seeks to completely control the ecosystem of a cultivated plot of land) only leads to things like the peasant class and increasingly centralized authority. Then the advent of capitalism opened up a whole Pandora’s box of marginalization and exploitation. Foragers had more free time than we do. They didn’t need to work for a wage. We, on the other hand, are slaves to technology. We waste more energy on pre-packaged food because we have been alienated from our labor. We no longer partake in what we create. Therefore, we have lost the reverence of food that the foragers seemed to understand.

I wonder how certain foods are discovered. Did people just pick fruits from off the trees and test them to see if they killed them or made them stronger? I was thinking about that in terms of medicinal and psychoactive herbs. A lot of experimenting must have gone on. How could someone discover that if you eat Echinacea root you won’t be sick for as long or if you eat enough nutmeg you’ll have a spiritual experience. Somebody must have tried these plants and asked themselves, “What is this doing to my body/mind?” This is cultural knowledge. We should not take it for granted. We have a lot to thank the cultures that came before us for. If people hundreds and thousands of years ago hadn’t discovered these things which we take for granted today the world would be a lot harder place to live.

Friday, September 12:

12pm
Coffee
Cookie

3pm
Hummus pita
Coffee
Soup

6pm
Iced tea

8pm
40 oz. Old English Malt Liquor
Two slices of cheese pizza
Iced tea
Rolling Rock beer

I don’t eat a whole lot, but it’s more than I used to. I’m not vegan anymore because I had started to lose weight again. I still try to avoid animal ingredients wherever I can, but I’ve been known to eat desserts containing eggs and pizza with cheese. I should drink more beer. That would make me fatter. The problem is I always get piss drunk after only one 40.

Monday, September 15

12pm
Coffee
Pizza
Ice cream bar

3pm
Coffee
Hummus pita
Ice cream bar

8pm
Eggplant curry
Green tea

12am
Dumpstered loaf cake
Chamomile tea

I don’t eat a lot of real food. Usually I just pick up whatever is around and cheap (preferably free). It’s nice when Talal (my roommate) cooks, but it’s even better when his mom is here and she cooks for us. I have a lot of issues with parents. I don’t usually feel comfortable around them, but if they’re giving me food it makes it better. Then we have the connection. It’s like by them offering me food they’re accepting me and by my acceptance of their food I’m accepting them.

Tuesday, September 16

10:30am
Coffee
Toast and peanut butter

11:15am
Coffee

1:30pm
Coffee
Hummus pita
Vegan soup

5:30pm
Coffee
Cheese pizza

8pm
Iced tea
Granola bar

I tend to consume a lot of cigarettes and other smokables throughout the course of the day, but I don’t think that’s considered food. Although it is something that is consumed orally, I think for it to be food it has to have some nutritional value. That’s why you can consider beer a food even though it’s also a drug. Actually, just about any food can be considered a drug because the definition of a drug is something that changes your body. So any food is a drug, but not any drug is food.

Fruits/Vegetables:
Fruit (derogatory term for a queer person), Vegetable (comatose person), Lettuce (money), a bad apple spoils the whole barrel, couch potato, cauliflower ears

I don’t know, I’m not very good at this right now. It seems like a lot of the phrases describing vegetables like couch potato and related phrases describe lifelessness. Perhaps it represents unconsciousness. A vegetable is something that is alive, but not conscious. A vegetable has no thought. It does not dream or imagine or respond immediately to stimuli. Vegetables are the unconscious counterparts to animals.

A poem about food…
Eat and it will make you hungry
But starve yourself and you will die
Drink the brown glass bottle of poison
And finally understand the meaning behind broken glass
Purge when yr done binging
Puking only makes your stomach empty
So why should we be puking
When others are starving
And all we can think of
Is how much we’ve had to drink
Or how we shouldn’t have taken that much cold medicine
Food will change your body
It can also change your mind
They say you are what you eat
And you are if you eat yourself
Prolonging the pain of being alive
Prolonging the curse of existence
Eat, drink and be merry because tomorrow we’re all dying

Here's a poem that describes my state of mind.

*Semester of Slack*

Born into chains
A slave to the master machine
Whatever happened to being born free
Because I don't need this
I do't need the ivory tower bullshit liberal indoctrination
To achieve a broken Amerikan dream of nine to five wage slavery
Because I don't need a job to be happy
I don't need a university degree with honors which means nothing but is supposed to make me feel smarter than everyone else
Because I think constantly
Even when I sleep I have deeply meaningful dreams
So why do I need to have a phd tell me about things that don't matter
When there's so much I have yet to learn about myself
I mean, if you don't know yrself can you really know anything?

You see, sometimes we have to slow things down. Sometimes we have to speed things up. That's the way life works. I've been trying to take it slow, but it all seems so fast. I don't know what the nature of these changes are, all I know is that they're happening. Did you ever have a lucid dream? I did a few nights ago. I remember what it was about too. I was carrying a dead body along with a few other people dressed in trench coats. At one point I opened my eyes. Was I awake? I closed them again and the dream continued. I could do anything I wanted, but I didn't want to do anything. I wanted to just let the dream take me away with it, but it wouldn't take me. It wanted me to take it. I don't know what dreams mean usually. I'm sure they mean something, though. Dreaming seems like too important a function of the human brain for it to be meaningless. I don't have all the philosophical answers yet. What I mean is, I don't know what I believe... or if I believe anything. I still want to have a good nightmare like I used to. It's been a while. Nightmares are best when they wake you up in a cold sweat, yr heart is beating hard and fast and yr scared shitless, but you don't know why. It's a real exhilerating. I want to have something like that to make me remember I'm alive and I'm human and I can feel pain. Right now I'm pretty numb. I feel things, but they're not the passionate emotions I once felt. All I feel is a dull tingling now.

Here are some poems I wrote under the influence of some mind-altering substances:

bebebecome be nothing fall puke grow fail succeed fall down down plant
grow
green flower leaves grass grow down roots grow down and I am leaves
leaves
of grass gree grass meadow wild mountain thyme streching out forever
forever
and never and these leaves streaching forever and these forever leaves
streching growing up and down down down and down and up and sinking but
being uplifted embracing and embrace and these thing just mean things
and
they don't mean anything coughing rolling smoking high on fire burning
melting the ice of hell and never again burning setting aflame the
effigies
of fascism and growing and learning and burning and flags stars and
stripes
burnig molotov cocktail through the window of the police presinct and
rolling and toking and free free free freedom no more chains free and
free
and free and rolling and tripping and toking and gone just gone just
getting
gone no where I am scenery and I am never alone but there is only me and
I
am freedom and I am ANARCHY ANARCHY ANARCHY I can't stop saying that
word it
sounds so good it is the warmth in my heart in the coldest hell and the
more
I live the more I grow the more I become ANARCHY and the more I embrace
it
and allow it to embrace me allow ANARCHY to embrace me and let my heart
beat
ans just be and don't break down just keep going like human machines
like
MAxim GOrkey and like everything I despise in life like capitalism and
greed
and individualism and hate and everything I've pirged from my life and
pirged from my throat and puking and falling and drowning and choking on
my
own vomit and drowning and puking and choking on my own vomit and
drowning
in the toilet and pirging myself of the white devil's disease that was
bred
into me and crass and other things but left and leaving and puking out
capitalism and flushing it down the toilet and growing green and rolling
and
tripping and toking and being and becoming and growing into me growing
into
ANARCHY and me and I am learning and growing green and it's only because
I'm
greener that green and elsothic or that is who I am and I am me and I am

ANARCHY!


stars
burning
stars
like diamonds in the fucking sky
sometimes crashing down
and sometimes just staying up there
and fucking the sky
black tar paper with cheap little rhinestones
A set for a broken television show
But broken and unchained
BLemished and dirty
Dirtier than even me
SPace is so full of dirt
and I don;t care anymore
You said you left me alone to think
and I thought and I thought you were just leaving me alone
But you were there and so was I
at least I think It was me
or someone who looked like me
ans as the sun creeps up over the horizon
and you ask for whom does the sky bleed?
and it bleeds for thee
and for whom does the sky weep>
it weeps for thee
and I'm going somewhere to set my consciousness down
Then I'll breathe untill its time to pick it back up
and drink life
Don't you just love the air?
Doesn't it just make you feel good all over?

*Feeling Good*

Do you think when the world is perfect we'll all feel good all the time
After the revolution or something
Do you think we'll ever feel alright
Do you ever just sit back and say, "Damn I'm feeling good"
I want to see things that you don't see
Do you ever see things that aren't really there
I want to see bearded men kissing bearded men on every corner of the street
I know there's got to be a day when things will be okay
Everyone's been talking about it so it must exist on some level
I think I'm happy just being alive
I think I'm happy just having good times
I woke up a couple of days ago just enjoying life
I don't think it's time to quit
I don't think it's time to quit anything quite yet

WHEN GOOD GAYS GO BAD: RITA "BO" BROWN THE GENTLEMAN BANK ROBBER

http://www.firegriles.com/

More art:





... and radical games for the bored websurfer

Just now I discovered the genius and artistry of Larry Carlson, although I couldn't appreciate his art completely since the computer I'm using has no sound. I want to share this amazing experience with everybody, so here is a collection of Carlson links:
http://www.larrycarlson.com/
http://www.virtualom.com/
http://www.larrycarlson.com/medijate/index.htm
http://www.larrycarlson.com/the_end/index.htm
http://www.larrycarlson.com/aloha_universe_forever/index.htm
http://www.larrycarlson.com/saint_germain/index.htm
http://www.larrycarlson.com/love_maze.htm
http://www.filesharedwork.org/
http://www.hightimes.com/htsite/whoweare/index.php?page=history

This shit is really amazing. Some of it is interactive which contributes to the trippiness. You don't have to be on drugs to appreciate Carlson's art... but it doesn't hurt.

*Holy trippiness
*Bush is an asshole

*Home is Wherever You Sleep*

The bliss is gone
I think now I can feel the full effects of sobriety
The daze, the loose grip on reality, the absence of drama
Gone
And I am feeling like the invisible man
Always talked about
But never seen
And I am the salt shaker quietly contemplating the cosmological argument on the table top
Shake!
Rites of the tribe of Brutus
Burning and heart beating fast
Racing
Happiness is a long ways a way
I thought it was right in front of me
Just out of reach
But I've seen the road
And it's pretty far to walk
And I don't have the energy right now
But maybe in a few days I'll go looking for it again
Maybe I'll stop destroying my life and let myself live
And maybe I'll let myself be myself
But my eyes are heavy
And I still can't sleep
Burning and racing
And tripping and rolling and toking and drinking
And sanity
And insanity
The lines blurred
The vision gone
The snake lingering in the grass
Will you mistake the snake for a garden hose
To put out the fire
And when you turn the spicket
Only venom cums
And cum and cunt and dream
And an empty bucket
Waiting to be filled
And waiting for nothing
But waiting
Waiting to wait
The narrow road
But broad and spacious is the road leading to destruction
And I like to take the one less traveled
But I don't fit on it
It's too crowded
And I don't fit in this crowd
Someone saw me smoking a cigarette on the road
And I don't even smoke
But I was caught red handed
And now the game is up
I left the bed
I left the house
I wouldn't have gone home if I had somewhere else to go
But now I don't care
I gave up with a head full of psilocybe
And I realized that I wasn't in love
And I don't think I've ever been in love
I just like the idea
And I don't like you

Hasta La Vista... Baby.

http://memefest.org/
Global Eye -- Last Rights

Freedom of thought is the foundation of a free society.
Isn’t that worth defending?

Come to the Rochester Social Forum and Protest today.

today's links:
http://www.subgenius.com/
http://www.geocities.com/main_clinton_leaveit/

today's poem:

*Entropic Distance; Fragmented Pangea*

Turn the corner and my mind doesn't work
Laying the bricks in the wall before the machine stops working
Dry lips and moist pants
Fucked on hashish and beer
The lights dim
There's really no light at all
And you became a ghost
All I could see was yr auora and it scared me
Frantic in the playground of yr mind
Bending, turning, streching
Fucking my mind
Fucking in my mind
Fucking up my mind
Black lights make bodies glow like the gray race
Married to my mind
Married in my mind
Married to humankind
Touching, breathing, thinking,
Stoned as fuck
My mind's not clear
My eyes, heavy eyes
Red from grass and fatigue
Run run run! The lunatic approaches!
We're gonna need to go further than that
We're gonna have to go down
Watching the trails that precede my cigarette
A joint and codeine on the beach
The waves feel like me
Crashing against yr shore
And not alone like before

If you want to know what's going on in Iraq right now check this site out.

Here's a poem I'm writing right now...

*No Sane, Just Sleeping*

I had just turned 19 when my life changed
I couldn't see myself in the mirror
All I saw was a reflection of something that wasn't me
And the reflection was physical
And I'm sure it wasn't me because I'm not
In fact, I'm nothing and nowhere
But it's all the same
So I want to touch other human beings
And I want to tell them I love them
Because that will make them human
But I'm in love with everybody
And I finally understand what she said
And why we had to break up
Because love isn't something you lock up
It's something you give freely
And I don't think you can see that
I guess we're all different
But I thought you were more different
I thought you were special
Not a square, but a triangle... or better yet a circle
Everything was circles
And she was circles and the room was circles
But all I tried to do was make sense of it
And it didn't work
It only made things worse
I don't think I'll do those drugs together again
But I can never say for sure
But why does it always seem like yr either completely alone, or yr streched too thin
And you can't possibly have enough love for everyone who loves you
And you feel so close to everybody
Which is why I finally understand what she said
And why we had to break up
And it scares me to see myself taking the same road
And it scares me to think that I am no longer what I was
And I've somehow grown
And I've somehow become something different
Maybe better, but definately not the same
And I don't think I'll ever be the same again
So we put our arms around eachother
And I think about her
But I can't forget how close I came to others
Physical touch is the eventual result of the collision of souls
Maybe we'll all touch someday
And maybe we won't be jealous
But we'll still be friends
And we'll still be married
Because everyone is married to everyone
And I've come to the realization that there are only two people in this world
Those who have love in their hearts...
and those who don't

Everyone should come to the Western New York Social Forum in Rochester.

Here's lyrics to a song that's on Love, Revolution and Grass and a poem which I might turn into a song...

*Death*

I've decided I want to die choking on my own vomit
I heard once
- I don't remember if it was Satan or George Orwell -
That if you want to be free you've got to die in yr boots
I like going to bed wet
So maybe I'll drown myself in the toilet as I go
Make fun of dying
Mock death then leave
This is why I don't drink... much
Because every once in a while you think dreams will save you
But press the levar and they're flushed like everything else
Maybe that's why I can't stand churches

It's Not My Revolution If I Can't Puff

Drugs drugs are good
Drugs drugs are bad
It's all in what you call it
Is it a drug if it's medicine?
Is it a drug if it's a plant?
I saw a homeless civil-war reenactor walking into a McDonald's carrying a musket and a sack full of something
And everyone has their own explanations
It's either too few or too many drugs
The doctors gave me Zoloft
My friends gave me pot
I liked pot better
If you don't do enough drugs they say you'll die
We've all got to go sometime
Didn't you hear Joe Hill say it's a lie that yr high in the sky when you die
I define drugs differently
And I don't think there's any reason why I shouldn't be high in the sky while I'm still alive
So let's cut the bullshit:
The herbacides, the wars and the jails
Long live the FARC
Spark that shit and feed yr fucking head

My new tape is done. It's like 20 something songs and it's two sides of a 60 min tape. It's called A Whole Bunch of Songs About Love, Revolution and Grass. E-mail me or talk to me in person if you want a copy. Here's another pie link.

The world needs more pieings like this one.

Listen people, let's stop kissing Dean's ass and start smashing the state. Vote Democrat? Nah, I prefer revolution.

http://www.midnighttavern.com/jesusdance.html

Why the Green Party (of Monroe County) sucks:
They wouldn't endorce Harry Davis for Rochester city council even though he is registered as a Green and has been working with the Green Party for years.
They have a misleading stand on marijuana.
They rely too heavily on electoral politics while putting little energy into direct action.