Well, sometimes the pressures of this world get so great that it makes it nearly impossible to see the light.There are miracles all around us and lately I've been ignoring them. I got into a pretty good conversation with this girl on the street today. She was really nice to me and we talked and it was really cool. I told her my name and she told me hers, but I don't know why I didn't give her my phone number. I guess if I'm ever gonna get married or whatever I ought to start giving out my phone number.Well, saddness can be productive, but so often it is not. So often it turns me into a lazy alcoholic: "My Grandad has just been hospitalised on account of his alcoholism. My Nana had been looking after him, but she can't really cope anymore. He'd gotten to the stage where he was too weak to stand up, because he just spent all day sitting in his chair drinking whiskey, and the muscles in his legs had completely wasted away. He was also severely malnourished." I really don't think I'm gonna do much work today. To took a Klonopin earlier in the day to get rid of my little freak-out at having believed that I had lost my credit card, my paycheck, my daughter's diaper bag and my friend's camera. Luckily all things were found and I was able to calm down for a time, but the panic did cripple me for a period. I had to not leave the house for a moment until the Klonopin kicked in and then I felt that I had the strength to deal with what I had to deal with.

I'm not necessarily totally in agreement with this, but it is interesting. I think that psychiatric drugs are helping for now so I say if it feels good do it. God knows I've already done enough damage to my nervous/endocrine system alreay, maybe a little chemical thereapy is what I need. My thing with it is that they take so long to work that you have to basically be addicted to an SSRI before you can even feel any effects from it and benzodiazepines are very risky because of thier high incidence for abuse. The Lexapro started to do really wierd things to my head at first like insomnia and strange dreams, but it seems to have gotten better now that I think I've gotten used to it. The Klonopin seems to soften some of those effects, though, especially when it seems like my anxiety gets even worse due to the Lexaprol

Why Psychiatric Drugs Are Always Bad
by Douglas C. Smith, M.D.
I no longer recommend psychiatric medications to anyone.

This seems radical in this country because we are in the midst of the "biological revolution." Everyone seems to assume medications are are specifically effective for various mental illnesses which are at least in part chemical or genetic in origin. I believe the science behind this is seriously flawed. It is based on false assumptions that lead to self-perpetuating mythology (and huge profits for drug companies).

I first gave up on tranquilizers, then antidepressants, then all psychiatric drugs. I learned that there are certain general principles that govern all psychoactive substances and biologic treatments.

General Principles:
(1) "Mental illnesses," even severe ones, are relational (I'd say spiritual as well). Psychiatry, by focusing almost exclusively on biology, is making itself increasingly irrelevant.
(2) Psychoactive substances provide at best, temporary relief, but always make things worse in the long run. They make things worse directly (chemically) and indirectly by distracting from the real issues.
(3) All psychoactive substances have rebound and withdrawal-related problems. "Relapse" rates, in general, during withdrawal from psychiatric drugs, are about 10 times higher than would be expected if the drug had never been taken.
(4) "All biopsychiatric treatments share a common mode of action -- the disruption of normal brain function" (Peter Breggin, M.D., Brain Disabling Treatments in Psychiatry, Springer Pub. Co., 1997, p. 3). Drugs never correct imbalances. They never improve the brain. They "work" by impairing the brain and dampening feelings in various ways.



"Ok, so let's look at this problem from several angels. As mental illness and obesity (which is related because it is an eating disorder) are two of the most common preventable ailments in our society -

Activist perspective:
http://www.madpride.org/
http://www.mindfreedom.org/
http://www.stopshrinks.org/
http://www.prozacspotlight.org/
http://www.thomasjmoore.com/pages/depress.shtml
http://www.socialaudit.org.uk/
http://www.zmag.org/disabilityrights.htm
...

Law Enforcement and Sociology:
http://www.jaapl.org/cgi/content/full/33/1/42
http://consensusproject.org/issue-areas/law-enforcement/
http://www.karisable.com/crmh.htm
http://www.psychlaws.org/new!/mental.pdf
http://www.healthcentral.com/depression/c/18/2435/mental-law-eyes/
http://panicdisorder.about.com/cs/anxietymoreinfo/a/povertyrisk.htm
http://www.schizophrenia.com/sznews/archives/001514.html
http://www.masspsy.com/leading/0506_ne_cover_study.html
http://www.apa.org/releases/lowses.html

Religious:
http://www.psychservices.psychiatryonline.org/cgi/content/full/52/5/660
http://althouse.blogspot.com/2005/07/religion-and-mental-illness.html
http://walloworld.com/?p=327
http://www.psywww.com/psyrelig/index.htm


These articles are somewhat more enlightening than those one by the head shrinks:
http://sandra.stahlman.com/schizo.htmlamong members of some cultural groups, “visions” or “voices” of religious figures are part of normal religious experience. In many communities, “seeing” or being “visited” by a recently deceased person are not unusual among family members.
http://spiritualrecoveries.blogspot.com/2006/05/azure-its-religious-experience-not.html


http://ucsub.colorado.edu/~sawilson/">

"If you know that I am an unbeliever, then you know me better than I do myself. I may be an unbeliever, but I am an unbeliever who has a nostalgia for a belief."

- Pier Paolo Pasolini(1966)

Well, it appears someone already has the name Dorian Gray so I've got to change mine. This Dorian fellow sounds kinda like a gothic Boy George. Ahh well, so what should my new name be. I was thinking something like Sgt. Pepper and shit, like Captain Shortfeet and the Schitzophrenic Jukebox, but not that. That's just off my head. Maybe something like General Happy and the Box of Evil Spirits. I don't know, but I think maybe it should encorporate the concept of a box somehow. That way it can also be a metaphor for my 4-track.
Been watching Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me.

lately i've only been sleeping about five hours a night. i think it's my meds.

For my daughter;
Why must every generation think they're folks are square?
And no matter where they're heads are, they know mom's aint there.
Cause' I swore when I was small, that I'd remember when,
I knew what's wrong with them, that I was smaller than.

Determined to remember all the cardinal rules.
Like, sunshowers are legal grounds, for cutting school.
I know I have forgotten maybe one or two.
And I hope that I recall them all before the baby's due.
And I'll know he'll have a question or two.

Like, hey pop. Can I go ride my zoom?
It goes twohundred miles an hour, suspended on baloons.
And can I put a droplet of this new stuff on my tounge?
And imagine puffing dragons, while you sit and wreck your'e lungs.
And I must me permissive, understanding of the younger generation.

And then I know that all I've learned, my kid assumes.
And all my deepest worries must be his cartoons.
And still I'll try to tell him all the things I've done,
relating to what he can do when he becomes a man.
And still he'll stick his fingers in the fan.

And hey pop, my girlfriend's only three.
She's got her own videophone,
and she's taking LSD.
And now that were best friends, she want's to give a bit to me.
But whats the matter daddy? How come your'e turning green?
Can it be that you can't live up to your dreams?
- John Sebastian

why doesn't anyone wear colorful shirts like they did then? why isn't it cool to love anymore? much safer to be frigid. don't get frost bitten. the cold won't last long. someday we'll get back to the garden. i hope we get there in time for the younger generation. i wish our minds could offer them a glimpse of hope. but our whole lives our experience has been a joke. we struggled and we trip over our disappointment. we pick ourselves up and understand. we've skinned our knees and now we don't remember how to stand. so what is it we're offering to our kids. is it a life of disappointment or the fullfillment of dreams?

I have a Dr.'s apt. today. MAybe that'll fix me.

well, what can i say folks. i've been a little down lately and yes anti-social. i don't know why now and why it's been so intense, but i've really felt it. perhaps its the pain of kali's knife. didn't sartre say it is necessary to experience some nausea before redemption through beauty. it's hard to me to see the beauty right now. oscar wilde said, 'we're all in the gutter, but some of us can see the stars.' well, i'm looking up, but it must have been a cloudy day. I'm becomming more humble though. Learning not to victimize myself all the time. Like a dervish, I'm waiting in the doorway, sitting on the threshold. I've been reading more. I think I need to begin the path of initiation. This time of desperation and reflection is necessary. Learn all you can by yrself until you can go no further. Then a teacher will guide you. Well, my confidence in my own wisdom is lower that it's ever been. I've been afraid to admit that I know nothing. I felt it would take some power away from me, but I'm realizing that it is the one thing holding me back from the true power of god."When you are guided to this pathway, take the opportunity to feel yourself part of Allah's continual, creative expression, which carves out new realities each instant through an abundance of forms." I am an empty vessel. Fill me with beauty and knowlege and love. I am lost. Find me. Well, this saddness will not last. Every moment is passing away.

This World Which Is Made of Our Love for Emptiness

Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence. Existence:
This place made from our love for that emptiness!

Yet somehow comes emptiness,
this existence goes.

Praise to that happening, over and over!
For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.

Then one swoop, one swing of the arm,
that work is over.

Free of who I was, free of presence, free of dangerous fear, hope,
free of mountainous wanting.

The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a piece of straw
blown off into emptiness.

These words I'm saying so much begin to lose meaning:
Existence, emptiness, mountain, straw:

Words and what they try to say swept
out the window, down the slant of the roof.
- Rumi

The Jack and Jim Show - Think 69
Friday September 21 - 8pm $10 donation
Bop Shop Atrium

Demons and Wizards Dancing in the Grass Fighting Over a Piece of Bread Upside Down are performing at Nietzsche's in Buffalo on August 1st as part of Infringement Fest.



http://www.armory.com/~thrace/sufi/poems.html

Lunatics unite! Be proud of who you are! The best help is the help you can give to yourself. Be free and full of cognative liberty. It is not you who are sick! It is our society that is ill equipt to support the needs of complex humans.

Tomorrow! Saturday, June 9, 9pm, $7 Charalambides, GHQ, Auger Soundlab Buffalo

The whiskey fueled invocation breathes the hot breath of Lucifer. The eyes seeing only darkness, the spiritual forces making desperation swell. A time will come when the stairway to ascention from this sorry state will be made aparent. Perhaps even when incarcerated one can appreciate the beauty of creation. My soul has become incarcerated in the hell fire of the drugery of daily life. Have I no recourse? How to defend from these dark forces that drag my soul to the earth.

The ghost of the past
progressive peace, a vision of imperfect response. i'm going into the ground. i'll sleep in a blanket of dirt.
eh, tomorrow i'm going to be fun. no, i'm serious. i won't be a downer anymore. i'm gonna take the bull by the horns. i'm gonna join the vanguard. i'm gonna march on the capital... for no reason. i'm happy with the hyperbole.

Rochester - Durand Eastman Park/Beach - The Lady in White roams searching for her daughter who had supposedly been raped and murdered by unknown assailants. There are many different versions to the story, but this is indeed a documented fact in the Irondequoit libraries, and police department.

Auger with Charalambides and GHQ June 9th at Soundlab in Buffalo
Auger with Eames Era June 18th at the Bug Jar in Rochester

I'm just no good whenn I'm like this. I get lazy because I feel helpless. Ho hum, the negative charges increase static electricity. I've been dreaming. Last night I had a dream that I had two tv's and sesame street was playing on one of them, but it was a twisted version of sesame street. then the tv went soft like it was made of cloth. For love of absurdist melodrama. I'm all over the invocation. Spread out like a tablecloth. I'm all over like a blanket. Stretching and molding my shape to fit the uniqueness of the individuals in the room. The room that is the present. The room that is the current situation. The relevant space, the space relevant to the moment. A visual limitation. Merely a mindgame. A trick, an illusion. No, there is something out there. Why can't it be seen? These rooms we lock ourselves in. These spaces we inhabit. Keeping them clean, or letting them go. Why do we pay so much for them. We'll just leave them eventually, in the hopes of moving on into the future. Letting go of the spaces of the past. And inhabiting new spaces. I watch too much tv.

If I had not heard the Prophet saying, "You should not long for death," I would have longed (for it).
O how great the agoodness of our God, who prepareth a way for our bescape from the grasp of this awful monster; yea, that monster, cdeath and dhell, which I call the death of the body, and also the death of the spirit.

An illumination entered me, and, looking at the receding rider and the descending sun, I understood that the Path of Life consists of the steps of the horse of Death.

The sun sinks at one point and rises at another. Each moment of its motion is a descent at one point and an ascent at another. I understood that it rises while sinking and sinks while rising, and that life, in coming to birth, dies, and in dying, comes to birth.

"Yes," said the voice. The sun does not think of its going down and coming up. What does it know of earth, of the going and coming observed by men? It goes its own way, over its own orbit, round an unknown Centre. Life, death, rising and falling--do you not know that all these things are thoughts and dreams and fears of the Fool"?
"This is the Summerland. Here you will rest a while, and play, and
perhaps meet old playmates again and discuss your Game, and ways to improve
It. It is time for you to remember all your lives."
She reached up, and softly touched him on the forehead.
"Now remember."
And he did.

I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth. I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain because of the word of God and the testimony they had maintained. 10They called out in a loud voice, "How long, Sovereign Lord, holy and true, until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?" 11Then each of them was given a white robe, and they were told to wait a little longer, until the number of their fellow servants and brothers who were to be killed as they had been was completed.
He that hears my words, and believes on Him that sent me, has everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation, but is passed from death to life. Verily I say to you, that the hour is coming, when the dead shall hear the voice of the Son of God; and when they have heard it, they shall live. For as the Father has eternal life in Himself, so also has He given to the Son to have eternal life in Himself; and He has given Him authority to execute judgment also, because He is the Son of man
I am Shu [the god] of unformed matter. My soul is God, my soul is eternity.
Soul to heaven, body to earth
Have I not formerly declared to you that it is in the very nature of all compound things that they must be dissolved again? We must separate ourselves from all things near and dear to us, and must leave them. How then, Ananda, can it be possible for me to remain, since everything that is born, or brought into being, and organized, contains within itself the inherent necessity of dissolution? How, then, can it be possible that this body of mine should not be dissolved? No such condition can exist! And this mortal existence, O Ananda, has been relinquished, cast away, renounced, rejected, and abandoned by the Tathagata

There is no becoming, no revolution, no struggle, no path;
already you're the monarch of your own skin--your inviolable
freedom waits to be completed only by the love of other
monarchs: a politics of dream, urgent as the blueness of
sky.

I felt like this all day. Then my face became this: I was afraid. A victim of myself. I was engaged in the struggles within. Today, Forgotten Figures in Buffalo. Forgetting myself. All my friends hate me. I'm just an asshole, and a victim of myself. These struggles wear me down. 15 For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. 16 Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. 17 So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. 18 For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. 19 For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. 20 Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.... 24 Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Romans 7

Do you think that if these people gained their desires they would be happy? If they possessed all, would that suffice? No, they would still find some excuse for unhappiness; all these excuses are only like covers over a man's eyes, for deep within is the yearning for the true happiness which none of these things can give. He who is really happy is happy everywhere, in a palace or in a cottage, in riches or in poverty, for he has discovered the fountain of happiness which is situated in his own heart. As long as a person has not found that fountain, nothing will give him real happiness.
These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.
the primary mission of the spiritual forces that oppose holiness is to make a person depressed. Once in a state of depression, whether a person realizes it or not, a person is in the dominion of those energies and is thus very vulnerable to their influence.
Thereupon, meditate upon the Compassionate One. Remember. Then, as said above, gusts of wind, and icy blasts, hail-storms, and darkness, and impression of being pursued by many people will come upon thee. On fleeing from these [hallucinations], those who are unendowed with meritorious karma will have the impression of fleeing into places of misery; those who are endowed with meritorious karma will have the impression of arriving in places of happiness.
Then, what is this experience which we are calling happiness? This so-called happiness is only a faint reflection, a little spark of the brilliant sun of bliss which is hidden within. This is only a shadow of that eternal bliss that is waiting to be exposed. He who is unattached to the external world and its objects, and is attached to the inner Self, will attain supreme happiness, which is everlasting. The more you seek what is true and lasting, the more you go nearer to the source of supreme, everlasting Bliss, which is within you.
Happiness is the deferred fulfillment of a prehistoric wish. That is why wealth brings so little happiness: money is not an infantile wish.
What is happiness? The feeling that power is growing, that resistance is overcome.
When the images of earth cling too tightly to memory, when the call of happiness becomes too insistent, it happens that melancholy arises in man's heart: this is the rock's victory, this is the rock of Sisyphus. The boundless grief is too heavy to bear. These are our nights of Gethsemane.
resources are valueable.

what simple christians we are

W7 Shitter Moth
Mon May 14th
9PM - av space

the days go by most famously. strange feelings start to bubble. static in the mind gets built up. have to balance the charges. left and right makes negatives positive. shift the charge to positive. hopeful idealism can make wild dreams real. bringing the inside out. falling in love makes strange bubblings. the mind boiling in tussin stew. a brown and sticky ooze. the headventures of onironauts. brown boring package makes the message go down like butter.laughter is the greatest medicine. open the heart to reveal pulminary arteries. Up to knees in pyrexia stew. rectal thermometer burns. the draft of the tussin stew. a new pair of pants, never been came in. I was waiting for the sun to come in, but the sun never came. I see the laughter and the fire. Everything was going well, but it was just on the outside. On the inside there was a deep pit. There were two deep pits and a bird flying around. I can see and breathe and I can even interact with my surroundings. everything's okay even though it's not okay. tomorrow is my inside day. i won't be going outside except to say hi. or something like that.
Outkast - Unhappy Lyrics
Drowning in the gray cell
To dwell in earthly hell
A pimp warrior fell
One-two! Sir Lucious Left Foot in the muthafuckin' booth!
Lucious! (Lucious!) Sir Lucious Left Foot has just entered
Might as well have fun `cause your happiness is done and your goose is cooked!First rule in this thang, never let `em see you sweat!
Never let `em be a threat and your feelings you must protect `em!
As well as your rectum! Must keep self out of harm, out of danger's way
Let strangers play while you graduate and move on!
True happiness is not acquired and you won't find it for sale
Unless you're in jail and trying to get a bail bondsman to go on and post that bail
You would be happy as hell! You thought you was happy until that court date came
Couldn't abort that case, nobody to take your place
Family home at stake, too late to escape and get on the run!!
One upon a rhyme, one time when I was a child (Flip that smile upside down now!)
When I found out that Santa Claus was nothing more than Vanilli
It was silly, `cause my mom and pop they worked for every penny!
Didn't have many, but had enought to get by! Enough to get fly!
Only to start on New Year off in debt now you forget
Your happiness came and went
Like mom and dad's realationship, take a trip
You got the potato chips? I'll bring the hot sauce!!
1979 Dirty South, Local Lounge (Flip that smile upside down now!)
I never thought that alcohol could ease the notion of the sadness
Now what used to be a happy home done turned into some bad shit!
Graphic language, mild violence and the silence of the fams!
No members to remember, but I know just who I am
I've grown into a man and like my nigga said we executed the game plan
`Cause we got that hot sauce!!!!

my friend's dad suggested this group to me. graham nash was in the hollies before csny. they wrote hits such as bus stop and long cool woman in a black dress...

in the dark a path was lifted. a path was lifted in the dark. i could hear someone sighing. i could hear someone comforting. in the dark a sigh was lifted and the comfort was beginning to heal me. in the light i saw it happening. and gloriously it was happening. in the fog the dark was lifting. and the path was set quite clearly. in the fog the path was lifting. like a gift the fog was lifting. and i saw frog quite clean making faces on the surface. the frog was a prince with a voice quite enchanting. he sang me the dirges native to the country to which he was heir. then a voice was shouting: GET OUT GET OUT and suddendly the frog became a perfect image of me. i was startled and curious, but my legs made me run. and run. and run. i ran so far that my lungs were leaping out of my throat. i made fun of the ground below me. i told it not to curse me. i withdrew the contents of my stomach account. i had an accountant account for everything. it was all drawn up very legal. legal and relaxed. protection under the amendments. i was in the clear. i was finally in the pink. making sense and relaxing. it all would not last long. i began to fear. i began to panic and again to run ][ and to run. and to run. i had to run as long as my legs were attached. i couldn't think of what else to do. they were there. i had to use them. i couldn't let them go to waste. if i did they would get rubbery and flabby. i would over consume in my infinite excess. my beautiful excessiveness and my incessant chaos. responding and communicating with zeal for the lord. making every word worth it, even the ones i don't say. making it all fun and loud again. to lose my self in myself. to walk deeper into the woods. and then walk deeper. and then walk deeper. until i can no long find my way home. i know not whether it is daytime or nighttime. is there a search party out for me. search party sounds like such a fun thing. i wish i could participate in a search party . there seems like a lot of comraderie and goody-goodyness. really happy go lucky stuff. like: it's gonna be okay. we'll find him. don't worry. i'll hold you in my arms while you cry. it's gonna be alright. we'll all be alright in the end. you'll see. everything's gonna be just fine. and it would all go like that. and then they'd finally find me after like forty days or something and i would have eaten raw rabbit meat and pinecones with only my k-mart golf knife. like the pioneers. like a real american hero. like an all american survivalist. and then they'd find me and i'd be severely psychologically disturbed, but we'd all cry and celebrate and get really drunk and talk long into the wee hours of the early morning. then we'd all go to be in our sleeping bags right there on the floor of the ranger station. and we'd all say goodnight real tender like. we'd all be huddled together for warmth because it was a very cold night that night. but we were happy and warm all huddled together with a fire going in the fireplace, barely flickering now, just some hot coals, and the wine and beer from local vineyards and microbreweries in our bellies. then the next morning we'd wake up bright and early and the sun would kiss our faces as we rose and we'd make coffee and pancakes for everyone right there in the bbreak room at the ranger station. then we'd go to work chopping the place down. this was to be the last day for this particular ranger station. it was to be torn down and never to be used again due to budget cuts. the cb radio had been pawned by the ranger a few months prior. he bought his wife a rememberance necklace with the money. it was engraved with a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke. she was having an affair and when he gave her the necklace she cried. if we love the people we love why do we do things we know will hurt them? anyway, he had no idea about the affair, but he found out the same day he found out that his station would be closed due to budget cuts. he was pretty bummed that day, but then he heard that i had gone missing and it gave the boys one last thing to rally around. so they all felt good trying to find this missing wierdo. it was a search party for christs sake. anyway, when they found me, well they decided it was time to tear the old station down. it brought closure to the whole thing. and after that the ranger and his wife went to couples counseling. they were able to work things out for the childrens sake. well, i never thought i'd say this, but some stories do have happy endings after all. there is a whole spectrum of human emotion. jung was wrong about love and fear. or maybe he was right. wait what was that he said again?

AUGER:
Saturday, June 9, 9pm Charalambides, GHQ Soundlab
Monday June 18th with EAMES ERA and EXIT CLOV at Bug Jar

I was worshipping the ghost of somebody that had passed. she was dressed in white satin. i shifted my gaze. i was ashamed.

goodnight and i would come over and i would be with you in all my days and dream of you in my endless sleepless nights while i labor over finance and this hole i've dug for myself as this shit hits the fan and i'm no longer an acceptable human being only slug on earth with grains of salt the flat earth of the great salt lake granulated in graciousness with poise and grace and always with pride never caffiene but enthusiasm and pride not lonely but alone

ever find it hard to say what you mean? Aren't you glad our boys are fighting the good fight? Everything's okay as long as yr okay and I'm okay. I'm not okay. The kingdom is coming and I'm going to drive there a long way in my car. My car is important and expensive. I don't have any dollars so don't ask me to drive. I'm going to drive anyway, but the gass is under the seat and I'm sitting on the time. The seat keeps kicking me. I keeping having to get up and empty my bladder. Now I would love to sleep. Time is making me weary. Every hour that ticks away is one less that I have to take care of my problems. But my problems can't be fixed. I'm doing nothing tonight. I'm doing nothing. Breaking away and breaking. Burning the toothpick bridges. Blowing the card towers. I'm rising on lead wings. Singing a tinny song. The flight and the subtlety. The angels in their places. All with wings and ribbons. Singing happy happpy song. To the length of the forever place. Such a long road and narrow too. To the length of the final place. Where no bones will rust and nothing will stay stale until the end. The ending place where a whisper can mean everything. Blind boy behavior. The blindsided broadside. The broad blindness and the alterations and altercations of deftly swimming in the pool of coal. Long road and empty bridges. Don't leave me alone. The blind sided blind boy leaves his home and finds all homes empty. One - the truth becomes too much infinity two - the branches of the trees shudder with enthusiasm in the wind three - the definitive versions surface after much speculation four - a crossing guard holding a crucifixion cross - the sacred heart auto club jesus lift me from this land and make me green again. allow me to meet my brothers in the promised land like i did in all those pages of years. make me more devout and more pious. grant me wisdom like the deer with head of angel. and a few of my own wings wouldn't be bad either. i want to whisper in the darkest shadows to spirits that aren't there and not fear. i want to sing the altercated anthems of the war in heaven. Judge me that I may bear fruit and not be a fruitless servant. Judge me for my sinfulness and deliver me from myself. Give me the tears of eternity that I may drink and find youth again. Bless this day and this one and that. Make the soul a real and living thing walking in step with your wind. One down foot right left and thus it goes. Clop clop and on and on the shoes make their sound on the ground. Tromp and the crowd gathers to witness the commotion. Oh gloirious attention. Oh holy ineffable attention. The lights of attention that burn too bright in my dialated eyes. Oh don't look at me, don't see me. Don't let me see you. I don't want to see you. I don't want to know you. I want to be alone. Leave me alone. I was feeling the spark of a light socket in the back of my neck. I was feeling sparked and unambitious. Someday I'll make someone very happy. But right now I'm no good to no one. You shouldn't even come near me. I'm just unhappy. I'm a horse with no saddle. Ride me until my back breaks. Then cook me on the spit and dismember me. Swallow my flesh piece by piece. I'm still riding. I'm still riding. Riding down the road to the kingdom.Verse 1
I need thee every hour, most gracious Lord;
no tender voice like thine can peace afford. Verse 2 I need thee every hour; stay thou nearby; temptations lose their power when thou art nigh. Verse 3 I need thee every hour, in joy or pain; come quickly and abide, or life is vain. Verse 5 I need thee every hour, most Holy One; O make me thine indeed, thou blessed Son.
Chorus I need thee, O I need thee;
every hour I need thee;
O bless me now, my Savior, I come to thee.
I'm bleeding with the blood of Jesus. I'm weeping the tears of Jesus. I'm overturning the tables of the money changers.

Real excited about this: The Return of El Topo and The Holy Mountain
Unseen on the big screen in the US for many years, two of the early 1970s most awe-inspiring cult classics have returned in new 35mm prints provided by ABKCO Films. Alejandro Jodorowsky’s El Topo (screening June 15 & 17) and The Holy Mountain (June 22 & 24) both use hallucinatory visuals to tell stories of spiritual quests and skilled warriors who wish to become gods. John Lennon and Yoko Ono were the first to spread the word of Jodorowsky’s special brand of movie madness and the films gained most of their initial exposure at special midnight projections. The Dryden will screen the films at more accommodating hours.

If yr heart is large enough there is nothing it will not accomodate.
- Sufi proverb

I went to a show at the av space last night. It wierd, quiet. I had the poisonous seeds in my belly and was feeling in rare form. I had to gather my wits in the car. Then I got all too drunk and drove my self home without saying goodbye to anyone. Lately social interactions have been leaving me disappointed and discouraged. In the past I used to live for them. I used to think that my life would be okay if I just had enough friends. I guess it's hard to like other people when you don't even like yrself. I mean, it's not that I hate other people, it's just that I feel way too much pressure around them. I don't feel like I can ever be myself. Not necessarily that I have to be cool, but I at least have to be interesting. The last thing I want is to be boring. Anyway, I think I might go to this show: Dr. Hamburger Presents: Pit Er Pat [ Chicago, Illinois], White/Lichens, Science vs Witchcraft Sat May 5th 9PM - $7 at av space but I don't know if anyone else is planning on going. I don't know if I'll have fun, but it's something to do and the music seems cool. Why doesn't anyone have fun anymore? Is it because of the PATRIOT ACT? Is it because now we're all scared?

the magic members of the sacred trust

let a machine tell you what to think

I think tomorrow morning I'll get some glory. I hope the government isn't reading my thoughts. RIP Kurt.

drinking coffee. up all night. no phone calls, no emails.

Sat. June 9th, 9pm: Charalambides and GHQ with Auger at Soundlab

I'm afraid to look in the mirror
Who is that in there?
I'm afraid to go outside
Who's out there?
It's late.

my tomb is warm. note the method. all things must be done with method: I love my Jesus quite alone.
The Bride, the Bridegroom of my spirit;
No others shall my heart, no, none,
Through love, through loving more inherit.
No man can do at once for two.
For one’s, for one’s will and for t’others:
Therefore I’ll leave all others.

The magnet needle erring goes,
When from, when from the pole distracted.
And take before quite no repose,
Till he, till he has her attracted.
And since my heart with Thy love dart
Is touched, is touched by its flaming ether,
Therefore, they haste together.

And though Thou art like the north star
In Heav…in Heaven altified
And I on earth so distant far
I’ll fol…I’ll follow undenied.
Still Thee my Light, and my eyesight.
Shall still, shall still be turned to Thee,
From every place, and woo Thee.

the path was lit even in the shadow of death. it's starting to heat up. We are fishers of men.

Saw David Lynch's Inland Empire today. I enjoyed it, although at some times it got to be a little much, especially when he would repeat the same image over and over. But I liked how he played my emotions like a piano. Coming up Auger shows: Saturday, June 9, 9pm Charalambides, GHQ Soundlab
Monday June 18th with EAMES ERA and JU-JAJUBA at Bug Jar possibly????

gotta get up get out get something they will go on within without you their presence is yr absence you are a ghost vanishing in the light that is reflected off the dust she is what before the loved called object of affected wandering in this fog the haze of the dusty light called upon from trees teach me oh teacher i want to learn your secret truths will you decode the message of infinity.
ok, enough piety. god has enough praise. one more voice won't make a difference. you think yr so big but yr little. individuality is the lens through which we see the continuum of existence. back to basics. clean the apartment. the ants are taking over. don't be so lazy and don't drink so much. don't wish for that which is not there. only dream, but do not long. in dreams anything is possible. in longing the only outcome can be despair. talk to others. connect with others. that is the true meaning. do not cease being human until the time comes. imperfection is beautiful, but perfection is ecstacy. in the end the potent magic will powder the room in rose scented dust. the trance will help along the way. trust it and do not fight. in all you do remember god, but do not think of god too much lest you become a tyrant. dwell on heaven, never hell. never labor for the sulfur and ash. it is useless and pointless knowlege. have love in yr heart every minute of the day.
do not be afraid to giggle and be silly when it is necessary.
i like walking in the rain. in the city walking is utilitarian. i used to go for walks in the woods. i never liked hunting season. have love in yr heart every minute. if you feel you must kill have love while yr killing. all things are natural. all things are necessary. most of what is necessary does not get done and thus time repeats itself. the cia is reading the communiques. no need to worry, government. i'm just a lonely voice crying out for help. like a million other lonely voices out there. in the shower you are made new. all the olds cells are dying. the fresh flesh is surfacing. a new day arises. get up and pay the bills. clean the house. don't sleep all day. i do nothing wrong, yet the government is reading my thoughts.

lessons from the sardine dance: do not be afraid to get close and show emotion. even though it comes in disguises, love exists and the love of god is all around. fear drives us apart. fear of lonliness is what is driving us apart. strangers are people just like us. we may not know their stories yet, but rest assured there is a story to tell. during the prayer my mind felt like this: <<<<---*--*--*--*###*--*--*--*--->>>> the religion of six. the first six steps on the grand stairway. the first six branches on the tree of life. a crowd gathers around themselves and begins to worship themselves. a tree grows out of the sand. who will water and what fruit will it bear. i'm just plump and understanding.
inland empire is finally at the little

satan i denounce thee. no matter what let us never stop being human. unless being human is what's holding us down. those little bits of emotion. they seem to make too much difference in the moment. but looking back they were only sensations. sensations rule the world. they make it hard to breathe without feeling something. all day long sensations are ruling you. like the archons and their chariots driving you this way or that. the endocrine system creates the chemical information that transmits sensation. the nervous system recieves the chemical sensation information and translates it. then we feel one thing or another and then based on these feelings our nervous system then makes a decision. should i go left or right? ALLAH - arm leg leg arm head. the head is for logic and intelligence. the arms are for strength and power. the legs are for motion and mobility. between the legs is for sex and evacuation. the hands are for work and creation. the feet are for balance and foundation. the chest is for emotion. the spirit lives in the chest.The Yanomami people's traditions are shaped by the belief that the natural and spiritual world are a unified force; nature creates everything, and is sacred.

They believe that their fate, and the fate of all people, is inescapably linked to the fate of the environment; with its destruction, humanity is committing suicide.

message to these ones. love enemies with all your heart. love them as though they were cutting your flesh. love them like a child loves. love them like they are your priests. they will return the favor in kind. they will grow rich off the fat of yr kindness. they will reap what they have sown. they will sit down and mill it around in there a while. like a miller cracks the shells of the grain. they will crack yr skull in time. and you will finally be free. like gabriel's wings. yr cloak will shield you from storms. do not disrobe anymore for yr robes are those of the holiest of holies.

i don't know what anything means anymore

they keep breaking the covenant. sending the virus over the seas. i am grieving the swine and the pearls. they were precious in the peasant eye. i am growing out of my skin. rolling around in the dirt

i am free of myself. why can't i free myself from you?

the wrong boat is floating in this splintered vein of the river. the wrong direction is taken. no where to go but the right way. where are we going? into the ground. how do we get there? we will be taken. when will this happen? soon and do not worry.The grave is more funny than sad.
a few thoughts on the show the other night:
if it's a show at a bar people shouldn't be expected to be quiet when someone is playing, i don't care how 'folk' they are. that's why nick drake stopped going on tour. if you want people to be quiet while yr playing book a show in a library.
secondly, the show was actually great. jana hunter was great. the people we met there were great. everything was great. alright, sappyness aside, everything's great. couldn't be better. no exaggeration. everything is wonderful, beautiful even.
my face is illuminated. my fingers tingle. the carpet is giving birth to tissue. see it writhing in time. what rhymes with orange? porrage? i'm making a statement. i'm not being human. i'm running away from this illusion. i'm gonna upgrade, get a better model. this one's not working out... at least not how i expected. but all kidding aside, everything is wonderful. everything is great. i'm fine i'm fine i'm fine i'm fine i'm fine. i'm great. i'm wonderful. i'm beautiful. i love you and you and you and you and you. i'm in love. i'm in love with you and you and you and you and you and you. i'm free of myself. why can't i free myself from you? a quiet little foot stepping into place. the hands holding the heavy metal blades. an animal eating in an unearthly land. i thought i saw you eating in the garden. the fingers twist and the tongue twists. the teeth stay the same. always cutting, always white. clean and without cavity. smelling like roses. the apartment is a mess. papers lay scattered on the floor and the cat box needs cleaning.
my bank account is overdrawn. how am i gonna pay the bills?
the laundry bell buzzes. there are more fresh linens to fold. and so the television beckons. the air won't clean itself. let me turn of my mind. good night.

Only two more days until Jana Hunter and Auger at Mohawk Place

http://www.wahiduddin.net/mv2/index.htm
http://www.damanhur.info/en/html/home.asp

The Number Seven Is Also Important To The 5% Nation Of Gods And Earths

Do Your Own Numerology Reading

I'm a nine. I think the description on the website is pretty accurate.

Nobody wanna see us together but it don't matter no. Now the lord is coming down. After long fast on mountain. He seeks shelter and relaxation. Coming down from Mt. Sinai and Mt. Zion. Coming down from where the river meets the end and water laps about with its tails. The sweetness of breath decrees salvation saliva. No net in this water. No bear trap. No bitten heel or head injury. Just gentle belief. This film is going somewhere, I can feel it. These bands of gypsies making meaningless migration. Everywhere is everywhere and it only stands to reason. The hall is too crowded. Too many mutts and serpants. They talk in hushed voices about the esoteric things. Their intentions aren't clear. Their eyes reveal something, but the luncheon is never without cost. I was invited once, but there was no place setting for me. I had to wash my own dishes and use my handkercheif as a napkin. I had to fetch water out of the bathroom sink and it tasted like lead. My spirit left me so I continued to eat vacantly while my soul smoked a cigarette outside having a conversation with the janitor who had died the previous year underneath a Buick LeSabre. We had a brilliant conversation about the trees and when the tulips will fully bloom, and when they'll eventually wither and die and go to seed again. Then I was summoned back. The closing prayer was about to begin. This meal was ending and my spagetti was not yet gone. I stuffed the rest in my gentle maw, inhaling and not chewing. The sauce trickled down my chin and onto my shirt. Someone thought I had a bloody nose. I assured them it was only my

Symbionese

nature. I am after all an omnivorous primate, although I tend to avoid injest of flesh. I can live with seven pillars...
walayah (love and devotion) for Allah, the Prophets, the imam and the dai
taharah (purity & cleanliness)
salah (prayers)
zakah (purifying religious dues)
sawm (fasting)
hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca)
jihad ("struggle")
In Gilgamesh, seven is mentioned in the 'gate of seven bolts', crossing seven mountains to reach the Cedar Forest, felling seven cedars to Humbaba's lair, sleeping for seven nights at Utnapishtim's. In the Hebrew Bible passages, creation of the world took place in seven days (if you include the day of rest), Job had seven sons, and the Pharaoh's dreams in Joseph were of seven cattle, seven ears of corn, and seven years of prosperity and drought!

The Seven Days of Creation ;printed by Newbery in c1765, The Mosaic Creation.

Seven wonders of the World (Daumier draws)

The Illustrious and Renowned History of the Seven Famous Champions of Christendom, Hawes, Ware, Crowder, 1766 The Seven Sorrows (of Mary)

The Seven Rung Ladder of Devotion from Girolamo Savonarola's Epistole e diversi ,late 1497; and a repeated symbol of human beings ascension to knowledge or faith.

seven Liberal arts

After Peter Breughel, from the Set of the Seven Virtues, c1560 - " Fides " (Faith) 22 x 29cms. see also CHARITY

A mystic number; the number of perfection; made of three added to four , pythagoreans' significant numbers. In Christian lore, The Seven Gifts of the Holy Ghost

The Seven Daughters of Jethro

The Seven times Christ spoke on the cross.

The Seventh Child, and the seventh son of a seventh son; with magical powers of healing and divination. See Opie and Tatem.

The Seven Ages of Man; illustrated by Rockwell Kent in four drawings, Babyhood, Childhood, Youth and Young Manhood. Published by the author 1918.

The Seven Wise Men ;

The Seven Churches of Asia ; Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamos, Thyatia, Sardis, Philadelphia and Laodocia.

The Seven Deadly Sins ; Pride; Envy; Sloth; Intemperence; Avarice; Anger; Lust; see Chaucer, The Parson's Tale I line 387.

The Seven Planets.

The Seven Virtues , Faith, Hope, Charity, Prudence, Justice, Fortitude and Temperence.

The Seven Sisters ;an old name of the Pleides star system. Also a British coastal feature.

The Seven Gods of Luck , in Japanese Mythology and a version of the seven Buddhist devas who preside over human happiness.

The Seven Champions ;St George of England given seven years imprisonment; St Denys of France lived seven years in the form of a hart; St James of Spain seven years in love with a fair maiden; St Anthony of Italy who extinguished seven lamps ; St Andrew of Scotland who released women from seven years of sleep; St.Patrick of Ireland who scratched his grave with his own nails; St.David of Wales slept seven years in the garden of Ormandine.

The Illustrious and Renowned History of the Seven Famous Champions of Christendom, Hawes, Ware, Crowder, 1766 The Seven Sorrows (of Mary)

The Seven Ages of a Soda July 1957

The number seven (7) is representative of the brilliant ones. —Aleister Crowley.

This guy is great. He has a new film out too and another one on the way.

You Tube is driving me crazy.

I love myself. I love my country. I love my religion. I love my family. I love my friends. I love my children. I don't see how that love can be used as a justification for hate. I love my enemies.

Question man where do you point yr cane tonight? Who are you questioning at the end of that stick? Is it me with my mind full of hair and ears with wax? Will you break me in front of all these people? Oh no, gentle question man you point at that one in the corner to my relief. But surprise again this room is full of me's and every face has a hairy face like mine. What am I afraid of? "What is yr name?" The first question. My answer becomes, "I am myself, who are you?" "Question man asks, does not answer. Where did you come from?" "I came from my mother's womb." "Where are you going?" "To the grave." "How long will it take to get there?" "A lifetime." "You have been set free. Go do what you have to do." "Thank you," I say but I'm not sure why I've said it. I'm not sure why I said anything. It's always best to be tight lipped and when they do get pried apart to speak only in riddles. That way it throws them off yr scent: like a bit of meat to the bloodhound. It won't rot. It'll surely get eaten by scavengers. Ahh, but the scavengers can't be blamed. They're just doing their job in life: nothing more nothing lesss. Nothing is anything more than what it is... and yet everything is everything. And I can make sweeping statements like that because soon all this will get swept away like particles under the rug. The milky way is a dust bunny. We aren't even as big as molecules.

http://www.sufiorderofrochester.org/

NECKST WEAK!

Mohawk Place- 8pm: Jana Hunter, with special guests Cassi Meyerhoffer, Amanda Amico,

... and the Incredible Auger the Flying Affinity Group!

$7

Demons run the government
Ghosts are real
Have fun with yr environment

A SWEEPING DENUNCIATION OF ALMOST EVERYONE AROUND THE SAME AGE AS ME

This reality thing is starting to bum me out
an existential mistake with the sillycybin
fist giggly then weepy then giggly and weepy
it's too lonely inside my head
i'm too isolated from everyone else
it's like i'm the only person alive in the entire universe
i guess i've always known that i'm the only living being
and everyone around me are just ghosts of the past
so i'm walking in a ghost town
doing a ghost job
making ghost money
paying bills to ghosts
and still i'm worried that somehow this world will take me down with it
progress is being made however
with the lord as my shepard
i will bring fun back to our generation
everyone's gotten too serious
i know, i used to be straight edge
i used to take puritanism seriously
i feel disconnected from my generation
i feel like we've headed in the wrong direction
we've headed toward a world with consequences, not moments
we're losing our concept of the present
we see things only in terms of the past and the future
there is no unselfish love anymore
we're all only out for ourselves
ok fine, but when did everything get so serious
when did everyone get so offended and creeped out by things
why don't we have fun anymore
even recreation is business
and there is no emotion in recreation anymore
it's supposed to be cold and sterile
otherwise we might lose ourselves in the moment
and we can't think about the moment
jodorowsky said:
when you love someone you love their presence and their absence simultaneously
because for everything we have there is a longing for an infinity we can't have

i want to tune in, but i just seem to tune out
perhaps this is the sign of the molting of the piscean age
and the golden dawn of aquarius
since september 17th 2001 and on into 2012
this will be a transforming time for our race
we will move from this self-centered paradigm of ignorance
into the light of love

a poet writes his thoughts
and sometimes those thoughts are ugly
even the most pious saint has ugly thoughts
no one can say that if they wrote everything they thought down that there wouldn't be some despicable moments
some moments they're ashamed of
becuase god and the devil lives in the human mind
and you can't have god without the devil
if you did the world would be off balance
and would tumble to one side
like a kid on a teeter totter with no one to play with

Jana Hunter w/ Auger
April 18 - Buffalo, NY - Mohawk Place

Inside me I feel alone and unreal (and the way you kissed will always be a very special thing to me)

Sunday night went to Buffalo and saw Sunburned Hand of the Man traded them a Wizards and Demons Dancing in the Grass Fighting Over a Piece of Bread Upside Down CD and a copy of my own Amniotic Ether album for a Sunburned CD and a Macrodot CD.

Tomorrow I'm playing with Auger opening for Akron/Family at Soundlab

Anyway, gimme shelter. It's just a shot away.

The message doesn't withstand prejudice. I understand the growing concern. I think these cryptic metaphors can be overcome. The queen is holed up in her castle. A tower so thick and stubborn rises from the molded clay. They mix with iron at the golem's feet. We are born into judicial decadence. Where do the limited resources get funnelled? What is it and what does it mean? Where did she go, what will she do? Where will I go, what will I do? Does anything mean anything anymore? Why so much nonsense when I find it all quite serious. I've got to get to work. Got to get up and clean the house. Sweep and mop. Make the bed. Be good to the children and they will bless your house. The knobs lock at the intersections. Where will the wind make us steer? Why don't we have any choice? I want to choose and I don't want to fight. I want to make my message clear. I want to shout at the sick herd walking into darkness: COME OUT AND FEEL THE LIGHT! I feel the blade of love in my heart. I want to share my pain with the world. I want to make everyone feel the blade like I've felt so deep for so long. The sadness of god's lowliest creature makes me weep with fevered pity. I would serve them all with fervent zealotry if my time were not extinguished like Rip Van Winkle. When the world of the future comes to know my name then we will see how late it's become in history. How the sands of time are moving away in a cold blue shift. Maybe the knobs will lock again and the heading will be misunderstood. Accept my love and I will give it all away. I will keep none for myself. I am a servant of my own soul. I am a ghost in living flesh. Wake me up with the morning's lamentations. I will plant flowers in my eyes. The roots will make my corneas fertile. The tactile addiction clears. I no longer need touch. Now only light will burn my skin.

Joey has laughed but never shown the tearsSo she may laugh in the autumn of your yearsWhen you're with her I wonder if it's trueAll that they said of a world without youWhere she may come from, where she may goWho she may run from, noone will knowWhy she was late may trouble you someStill you wait for Joey to come

On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings
-- oh, happy chance! --
I went forth without being observed,
My house being now at rest.
In darkness and secure,
By the secret ladder, disguised
-- oh, happy chance! --
In darkness and in concealment,
My house being now at rest.
In the happy night,
In secret, when none saw me,
Nor I beheld aught,
Without light or guide, save that which burned in my heart.
This light guided me
More surely than the light of noonday,
To the place where he (well I knew who!) was awaiting me
-- A place where none appeared.
Oh, night that guided me,
Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,
Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover,
Lover transformed in the Beloved!
Upon my flowery breast,
Kept wholly for himself alone,
There he stayed sleeping, and I caressed him,
And the fanning of the cedars made a breeze.
The breeze blew from the turret
As I parted his locks;
With his gentle hand he wounded my neck
And caused all my senses to be suspended.
I remained, lost in oblivion;
My face I reclined on the Beloved.
All ceased and I abandoned myself,
Leaving my cares forgotten among the lilies.

Soundlab:
Saturday, March 17, 9pm, $10
Akron/Family
w/ Auger

This movie's gonna be out soon

YOU left me, sweet, two legacies,—
A legacy of love
A Heavenly Father would content,
Had He the offer of;

You left me boundaries of pain
Capacious as the sea,
Between eternity and time,
Your consciousness and me.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86).

poison

Crispin Glover came to the Eastman house today promoting his film What Is It and his Slide SHow. I was gonna go, but I ended up sleeping all day.

Make strange music into psychoactive voice mail
the plough is stronger than the sword
these sounds make me blue
I'm getting a little gonzo for the old tyme scriptures
A bird of prey swallows my mantras
Don't worry, I will control the patterns
We will know when the echo people let us in on it
Now it's time to stop wasting time

Today I dwell in a dark space. Hell is the world and the world is having a nightmare. Everyone run for cover. Armageddon is coming. Let the fire rain down from the sky. I won't stop it. I'm prepared for it. Everything is in a downward way today. Gravity is too heavy. I want to stay in bed and sleep for a million years. I never want to lift the blanket from my head.

Who am I writing to? I'm writing to no one. No one will read this except me. So I'm writing to myself. To listen to myself in my mind's ear. So it is out of Narcisism that I'm writing. I'm looking into the cybertronic mirror. So bored so boring. Making faces into nothing. Then letting them take my face as though it's a box of cereal on a supermarket shelf. You can't take my face anymore. No more photography, no more cinema. No more tape recording or sound engineering. No more media orgy. I can't face myself. I can't confront my own direction. I am not happy with my body. I am unsuccessful... a failure. I am in an isolation chamber. With all my noiseless, clueless patience. I feel it slipping away. I see the colors of alienation. The blues and greens of letting it go. Gone are the reds and yellows of ecstacy. Now only the blues and the greens fill an empty hole. The dirt is packed tidy all around the negative space. I am walking in the field of the ether. Trying to find the tree of life. When I trip and fall into this hole. It holds me captive for three weeks. Then it lets me go. But I never understood what it was doing. Or who dug it in the first place. I am sorry, but when I left I was lonely. It had grown dark outside. The leaves on the trees were all dead and brown. The life had been choked. Now my seraphim denounce their allegence. They no longer call anyone master. And I'm a king with no subjects, a messiah with no disciples. My longing is for the productive form of suffering. To feel something, to have a genuine sensation. Not to feel this nothing that I'm feeling right now. Maybe I lost my mind drinking. Too many dreams and the past gets unsteady. I can see the memories but not remember them. Like photographs of a party where you got black-out drunk. That's been my whole life until now. I can picture the happy moments, the ecstatic moments, the holy moments. I just can't relive them, so I'm constantly redefining myself with new experiences in the quest for exciting and interesting sensations. The journey makes me weary, but I think it's worth traveling. This week will be my lost week. I hope to not remember anything, and I will emerge from it a new person. I will strip off the old fantasy and adorn myself with the new. Ahh this succubus and these sorcerers. These forces outside of me that I feel so deeply on the inside. Why do I allow them to possess me? The entrap me with the illusion of love. But it is only a different kind of relationship and not the trueness of agape love: the godly love, the love of god, godgiven love, god is love. Everyone around must become everyone inside. Crawl deep into this cave with me and then we will hold hands and pray. Everyone crawl in and don't be afraid of being too crowded.

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