JOURNAL

WHAT MAKES NICOLE SPIN SO GREAT
^{19 December 2024}

The "gynomasticus." Flatly. She has a thing I'm not sure I've seen in anyone else.  I'll call it the gynomasticus because it's her neck and cunt. And if I really cared what anyone else thought I would not be a Hemingway. If the "average," man could fathom even half the things E. thought? We would not be polluted. So, beyond, and far beyond infiltrating my life, Nicky is her own thing.

I can't stand when she's gone. I go out of my head. I know it and there is no stopping it. I suppose it's like a tidal wave. Lots of people are going to die. It will be all over everybody's talk. But there's no accounting for it. Nobody can account for very much so the Jews set up a Jubilee. Every fifty years. Let us have one. And let me die in Nicky's arms; it's every man's dream after all.

What will make Nicky Spin the "premier," Artist of the decade? My say so. Of the critics I was premier. What I say goes. That's what my father always said. And my father was a motherfucker. You know, we got all these stories now of guys getting "terrorized," and some make it and some don't. It's a lot lie the tidal wave.. everybody want the day of the LORD but just ask Amos, it is not coming like you want.

Ask Amos has become an "amecican,' thing. Few know the difference. I know what I see. And that's all I know. Does anyone know differentce. I've spent my lifetime in search of the one true beauty. I found it. And I don't give a whole flying fuck what anybody thinks about it.. I am a Hemingway, standing at his typewriter.. give it place or give it not. I don't care.

Nicky Nicole 

And maybe we should not praise her of overblow the review.. or to say what I see in her; you know, when people hear all sorts of things about them.. Except for the childlike purity, (balanced with the "evil streak), I'd say nothing at all.

ONE THNG AND ONE THING ONLY has kept me going through the absolute darkest despair, (and we all have it).. I know great Art from bullshit. It's that thing a child has who knows he's a star, (girls too). Then some motherfucker gets in your head.. usually your parent.. scared to death they'll lose the illusionary hold they think they have on you.. but I got something for all of them.. I got a voice that will never be silence by any threat or MAFIA "family," thinking they are running this goddamned world.. ("MAFIA," held in context).

^{I GOT NICOLE SPIN
photo}

I know a great piece of Art when I see it.. it's an overtaking of senses. The silk and blue. But it doesn't have to be painted.

She gives me the worst pain imaginable.. and it's not imagined.. I've seen her from two inches away and then gone into the night. Everybody knows we measure ourselves by some bullshit TV., but we don't act on it enough.. (it seems).. I've seen the greatest of guys in prison.. friends you wouldn't expect to see.. they came to me. People quiet your darkest moments. And they always do. And where does the "dark," come from? Maybe "AI," can tell us.

People think the "nerds," of the world, the "scientists," are up there in some greater space, but they're just finding some crap to do with their energy, creating greater gadgets.. no home.. just out there.. in the workspace.. inventing. If they were home where they're supposed to be they'd be inventing better pot holders.. or a toilet for the place.. (and then there's India).

Every man knows the loneliness of the work-space when it is dictated by a fuck. There's very good bosses and there's not. Everyone asks, "why," (fill in the blank).. and we think the "oppression of the poor," is somehow a new phenomenon. No. The oppression of women.. child labor.. like there's never been rich assholes being assholes. Mass shootings happened in Germany, douche. 

... there is nothing new under the sun ... (King Solomon).

Is there any other reason to learn a stove than to place a meal before a stranger? This was "etiquette." Expected. Loved. And no, we have not lost it. Let them say I am "pussywhipped." Even in prison, the Spanish guys got offended if they cooked something for you and you said, "no thanks." Complete strangers. The wanderer knows a loneliness that is unmatched.. are women different?

This is the big question when looking at Nicky from two inches away.

Is this "love at last," and I think so.. how unbelievably unknown is this to me.

I'll take a bite from the pan now.. there is nothing left to do. 

For I am a "hemingway," not much different from you, or her, or any douchebag in lockup. I've seen it all and there is no release. I am ready to go but not now.. I have seen enough of the world to know what's good. Nicky is good. And then comes the "defending," of all good. 

say "hey, good lookin'"

what you got cookin'

how's about cookin' somethin' up with me?

say, "hey, sweet baby"

dont you think maybe.. 

we could find us a brand new recipe?

There's so many stories of "Artists," now there's no making sense of it.

^{A GOOD COLLECTION OF MY WORK I think}

SHE DIED THE MOST OBSCURE sort of death one can imagine, my mother, so that maybe only a slave in a diamond mine might know it and say nothing to anyone about it.  Well.. that's being dramatic.. and we'll shoot for what.. second place?  No.  We want to be the absolute.. what?  For her.  We run home clasping every treasure.  

^{21 November 2024}

WE ARE TERRIBLY ATTACHED TO EACH OTHER but what of it?  

It was all a phantom and a dream anyway, all these things she stole away or seeped into, and "ruined," so that none of it is mine alone anymore.. what of it?

To think of any man's story as indispensable.. truly, wisdom is known by her children.

But for Art and Culture, yes.. be the fool.  

* * *

Okay.. the next person that says, "in a perfect world," for ANY reason, is getting punched in the face. And there's a few more, to be sure.. "Moving forward," for example, or especially.. since it is not even a real thing that anyone can actually do.. it's really just another way of saying "shut up." Most everything, if you think about it, is a way of telling someone else to shut up, or an attempt rather to get someone to shut up.. with authority.  People say time is moving too.. too slow or too fast.. going where? That's my question.. and when is it going to get the fuck out of here?

People used to say, "if you sail too far in one direction, eventually you'll fall off the earth." It's not in the bible.. I'm not sure ocean liners were a thing then.. (they're not in the bible either).. as far as I can tell, the boats of the day weren't doing too good on a lake all the time.. and I could go into the "Sea of Galilee," rickety boat stories.. ("Jesus, save us.. we're all going to die!"), but it's better to focus on the feeling of the thing, I think, in pretty much all cases of anybody saying anything about anything. Feelings indicate belief. That's probably the only reason we have them.. so it's important to not get distracted away from what's really going on inside.  

For instance.. the Sea of Galilee, surface-wise, is right around 64 square miles big, and that seems pretty big.. we've heard about the stories of storms coming up out of nowhere.. something about the mountains that surround that little body of water, the winds whipping around, (mostly up and down), the kind of thing that makes "bush pilot," one of the most dangerous jobs on the planet.. but if we consider the fact that Lake Ontario, (as opposed to the "Sea," of Ontario), is more than 7,000 square miles big.. or that the Atlantic Ocean.. at about 41 million square miles big.. it puts things a little better into perspective.. again, I think. But when you're sitting in church.. watching a bee crawl around on some old lady's back.. listening, or trying to listen to these horrific tales of dying at sea and being saved from it, and redeemed, so as to live forever and ever after, always comes the question, "what am I supposed to do about that?" The bee? Forever and ever? Dad's probably thinking about taking the boat out on the lake.. later on.. probably the last thing on his mind is getting out of the boat, (out there in the middle of Lake Ontario), when he can't see any land in any direction.. and trying to walk around on the water.  

I might have asked him about one or two things we all just heard in church that day and his response, I imagine now, was the same every time, "what are you, stupid?"  If he was alive I'd say something like, "well, you brought us here.." But it wouldn't do any good.. he retains, that is, his authority on every matter still, somehow.. incomprehensibly.. to just have him in the room now I think I'd be compelled at some point, (moving ahead into the future of time), to shut the fuck up.. and not because he'd be a ghost.. or in actuality risen from the dead.. but just because he is who he is.. to me.  Still.  And we can go into that whole question of "still," how things, time, and all this moving about, things changing all the time from one thing into another, but still, all the time remaining exactly the same...

But you're going to get a lot of different answers to any question out there. So much so it almost made me stop asking questions altogether. In fact, I can't remember one time all through school ever raising my hand for any reason.. and we can come off the whole how "abusive," it is to ask your kid if he's stupid.. it's not really stating anything definitively.. the boy is open to making up his own mind, that is.. we got a whole branch of baboon science now asking that very question, "can he really make up his own mind?" And the jury is still out; we don't know if we have free will or not.. we haven't the first clue what is going to compel a boy to draw any particular conclusion at all...

Or girl.. this is a good point to mention the greater mystery that is the girl.. in the context of how to address her existence here.. literarily.. (meaning, in a way that relates to literature).. concerning this piece of literature, I mean to simplify the inclusion of the girl by only using male pronouns, for time's sake, as opposed to feeling I must write "his or her," or "he/she," every time I am speaking about you or me, the reader and the author.. or some abstract person out there someplace.. or group of people.. or God, especially.. I'd expect that to come up rather often.. maybe that's how God became a "He," initially.. to save time.

AS THINGS GO
^{26 November 2024}

My "life," one could say, was completely, or more or less, "consumed," by "alcoholism," and there's going to be a very narrow use of the experience, out there in the general public, but that it should have some use to someone else; even the "hermit," is of use, he'd go unknown if that was not the case.. even the "devil," one could say, is of use, and possibly more use than anything else on the planet.. but that's probably a speculation-too-far to be of practical value in most people's day.. more better left to the practice of meditation or prayer.  In the practical course of things, battling an unquenchable and irresistible urge to take a drink of alcohol is not going to "resonate," with most people.. 

So I stick to my "caste," and urge everyone else to do the same.. hopefully the "oligarchs," will have a heart.. this year.  If I'm not using that word correctly, the "kings," then; when the king is good the people are happy.. (Lao Tzu, maybe).  We hope that the king will have love, (and not pity), for the people.  And so, let's give them something to love!  It's long been my experience or understanding that all good things rise from the bottom and very few rain down from above.. I could mention "fashions," as an example, (or the whole "southern accent," for that matter, even though I, personally, cannot stand the southern accent.. and don't try to tell anyone down there how it came into existence, -white people trying to communicate with black.. or the upper trying to deal with the lower.. we could all do well to believe that even the "untouchables," have a real value in the picture).

Life might be best described as a "picture," to most of us.. or a "model," in the brain.. but so much more is the exchange.. the morphing and mixing.. and, for me, all that goes "between," people.. the invisible.. the transaction.  Even thinking of that word, "trans-action," we might make better use of our "gifts."  But again, for me, alone, the purpose is immediate and narrow, and given to finding remedy in the business of alcoholism.  And we can further expand the thing to include every other "addiction," on the market.. 

And this brings to mind the use of the term "market," by Jesus in certain parables.. and the necessity of going to the market.. but we will hopefully get to that.

What is on everybody's mind, what "works," (and what does not work), as a solution to any problem, is hampered by the confinements of the "model," in the mind, and further confused by the transfer of models from one brain to the next.. meaning, generally, it's been said over and over, "Jesus is the only solution," (and I return to Jesus as a reference because of the sheer magnitude of the whole Jesus thing).. we can just as easily hear "Allah," is the answer to everything, or that the answer to everything lies "within;" we are continually bombarded every day by the appearance of a "better mousetrap," and we are swept caught up in sensation.. ("hungry, angry, lonely, and tired" comes to mind).. short of actual, bodily death, there is no escaping human "need;" we are all familiar with the basic survival needs of the body, but things get confused a little bit climbing up the pyramid a ways.. (in reference to Maslow's more or less famous hierarchy of human needs).. things get confused and very personal when we begin to look out, hoping for broad, sweeping solutions to all social problems, the way we want to find a penicillin for every ill.  And then there's the sales pitches we have to weave in and out of all day long.. "Mommy, I want a cookie," or "who do I gotta blow to get some work done around here?"  Fucking schemers.  Buy my bullshit..  or, "follow me; don't follow him."  

Worse.. the Bible that influences the majority of people on the planet considers all this behavior "evil," and to be detested.. only that's not the way things go; we absolutely LOVE life.. and we cling to it, well, to the peril of our neighbor.  We love invention and we love scheme.. we love intrigue and dramatics, noise.. And what do we hate?  Boredom?  Tedium?  "Prison?"  Slavery? (most of the benefits we can expect to be presented with in any church).  And oh yeah, pedophilia, like a fucking cherry on top.

But before I lose the point of the morning in the growing rage of the day, I would hope to suggest that the various castes of the world can learn a few tricks from one another.. 

And there was a greater point that escapes me.. 

It had to do with the use of models in the treatment of addictions.. if I recall correctly there is even a thing, widely accepted, called the "addiction model," itself.. (or, in essence, addiction can only be spoken of in terms of a model).. defined and understood.. all well and good.  What concerns me is the whole phenomenon of the "institutionalization," of any model on a permanent basis.. (the "reactionaries," of this world will not relinquish).. to the exclusion of greater wisdom outside that institution.. (I'm thinking of bringing things like acupuncture into addictions treatment and the arguing that must have taken place in order to make it happen).. we have stories upon stories of how "western medicine," does not fit within the Christian dogma concerning the treatment of the sick.. and how exactly this is relevant to all I am trying to get across is the simple numbers, the statistics, the "rate of healing," we can expect in the current model, or mode, of addictions treatment.  Dismal.  

But what I really wanted to get out this morning is the difference between an adult and a child.. we're arguing all about that now.. what is best for the child.. how much, and what sort of "attention," is best.. we wonder about children as "property," and "having rights," and to me it all looks like a big bunch of children trying to raise each other, (hoping to pull something out of our ass).  But the only sure difference is something called a "locus of control," and probably the reason nobody hears about such a thing in public, (and probably colloquial schools more so), is it's useful information.  Much like "the hot seat," (peer evaluation model of addictions treatment), was removed from addiction rehabilitation.. because it worked.  And the understanding of the "locus of control," (over our decision making power), is, I think, indispensable, if a person wants to quit what they're doing and find they cannot.  Because all it takes is a decision. 

And the real crucial difference between an adult and a child is the seat of that locus of control.. to the child, it is all, or primarily outer generated.. (meaning direction from parent).. but in a mature adult all decision making and "location," of power to decide, is generated from the inside.. and therefore must be created, alone.

THIS IS NOT YOUR DADDY'S ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS
^{27 November 2024}

In a sense, yes, today is very much the U.S.A. of 1935.. rather the overlooked similarity is the inclusion of the here and now.. which, looking back, we can only imagine, with extreme effort; it's much easier to say they were not dealing with the same "America," (when the two slobs got together and, ready for this(?).. "birthed," Alcoholics Anonymous).  How gross.  And still, A.A. is touted as the #1 solution to "alcoholism," (now referred to as "substance use disorder," throughout the treatment/care industry, or is in the process of being adopted as a result of the merging of these two branches of study in healing, -addictions treatment and psychiatry).  "It is the best that works for most," I've heard it said of the "twelve step model," of "recovery."  What I think escapes most people is the adoption of the word "recovery," as a synonym for sobriety, or a "program of overcoming an addiction."  The problem that I see is in the case of A.A. it ignores the definition of the word "recovery," all together as used by these "founding fathers," (so to speak), and this is where we begin.. mainly because most people in or out of A.A. are completely unaware that it's membership had fallen, and declined steadily worldwide, since 2001.  This is not a popular topic.  But we should stay on track.

Bill Wilson was a very successful stockbroker before having his life taken over by a substance, (alcohol), and his partner, "Dr. Bob," was a surgeon on the brink of losing his practice completely.  What they meant by "being restored," was not limited to physical health, as we'd apply it to someone recovering from a cancer or any other illness.. Bill wanted to be rich again, and Bob wanted the love and respect of his patients.  It was not an abstract concept to these men.  And they would have grasped onto any flotation device within arms reach.  And this is the sort of "alcoholism," a non-alcoholic will be unable to "relate to," or will be limited in his or her empathy or sympathy for an "addict," (as can be seen anywhere).. we become like aliens, or people speaking entirely different languages.. but there is another problem within the confines of the membership of A.A. and that's an inability to relate to the solution.. many kids have nothing in their past, no circumstance or remembrance of anything they wish to have back, or experience again.. some, we can imagine, recoil at the thought.  

For myself.. I can say my experience in the hierarchy of my own family is very similar to my experience as a member of A.A.. or rather, my objections to the atmosphere are the same.. 

ALWAYS REMEMBER TO SAY "PLEASE"
^{28 November 2024}

This is probably the best example of the difference between the outer and the inner "locus of control;" children say "please," and "thank you," because they are commanded to.. most adults, I'd guess, are more or less unaware of how this whole custom came into existence.. "if this seems good to do," is the meaning of "please," (it's anybody's guess what "thank you," is all about).  But we do gain a sense of "gratitude," if we are lucky.. and it's a sign of maturity, (ask anyone).  Just as maturity looks bleaker and bleaker.. at least in this country.

Kids say "please," and "thank you," automatically, and it's grumbled about when they don't.  I was watching a YouTube video "reaction," to another YouTube video made by a woman whose daughter had ceased contact; she spoke about "family obligation," and how liberalism has polluted her daughter's brain with ideas of "individuality," and "entitlement."  She is unaware of her own sense of entitlement to gratitude.. after all she did for the brat?  Not perfectly, of course, (moan).. it's just striking, the ignorance.. if only gratitude and obligation could flow out of the same heart at the same time.. if only.  There's an American motto for you.. or put it on a sign.. if only.. (sigh).. her favorite piece of chattel, the one she herself produced, never wants to return home.. but she does.  It's a real head-scratcher.

My attempts, bleak as they might seem to me, to make myself a home.. finally.. have brought me things I'd never expected to have experienced.  One of these things is "decision-making-power," or, rather, it's been thrust upon me, this need to make decisions, (if I'm going to continue to eat every day), and that's what "locus of control," means to me.. "who is making my decisions?"  

Is she asking me to "take a side," this mother whose daughter has exed her from her life?

Because I grew up with the same, "I put food on the table," (for you), "I put shoes on your feet.." etc. etc. etc.. where's your gratitude?  "Nobody can hurt you like your kids."  That's another one.  That came from my father though, not my mother.. and how exactly did I hurt him so bad?  Along with, "what are you, stupid?"  I remember asking him if we could send money to the "starving kids in Africa," after seeing a commercial on TV and feeling sorry for them.. he said, "what are you, stupid?"  And it was maybe that night we were all us kids instructed to "clean our plates," and we all know why.. kids are starving in Africa.. where's your gratitude?  "I slave all week.." blah blah blah.. never suspecting how close to the truth that statement really is.. because that's not the intention.. the truth.. the intention is to elicit pity.. nobody says, "hey, wait a minute, I'm a slave?"  Much less, "fuck this."

No, we want out kids to carry on in the same, "prostitute your labor," fashion and be happy about it.. or at least go away.. then come back when you're grateful.. nobody, well, listen to ME!  Absolutely, thousands, if not millions of people think "fuck this," at least for a minute.  Does anybody remember when the prospective "employee," had the bargaining chip?  If you really want to ask yourself why your government has its cock all up in the "economic problems," of your land.. it's because we are conditioned to go back on our own, "fuck this."  

SHAB R US
^{29 November 2024}

It can be such an awful experience, looking at myself.. but Noah found favor in the eyes of God.. 

Fishers of men.. fishers of men.. fishers of men.  "Come with me and I will make you fishers of men," he said to the fishermen.  Two little fish and a loaf of bread.. there must be some hidden significance to this obvious fiction.. the feeding of 5,000 on two loaves of bread.  What is the symbolism?  What is the exact symbolism?  

Such is the problem studying the deep deep writings of men.. the problem with metaphor and simile, they are invisible.  The transfer is always hazy.  No exact meaning and instruction and basically left up to the observer of the thing.. as God brought every animal to Adam, so that he could name them, and it was found, none suitable, as meet, for the man.  No equal.. no companion.. and, well, apparently, he saw that it was NOT good.  For all his astounding creation, and yes, we put "God," and all the "he," of "him," in quotations, just as loudly as we can.. big bright beautiful quotation marks.. it kind of frees us from all ownership.

The fish.. the fish.. the fish.. what is the "fish?"  To the fisherman?  We must take the fisherman into consideration.. since he is the on the words were spoken to.. reportedly.  We must also, unfortunately, keep "reportedly," in mind at all times.. (Jesus never wrote anything down himself).  He was said to have said.. was reported to have done what he had done.. then we saw the flying saucer in the sky.. the dinosaur bones.. and the empty fridge.

We don't know.. we don't care.. we just know that if Jesus said it or did it, it was good and had to be good and anybody that says different is a "blasphemer!"  What a word, "blass-FEE-mer," (!!!).  It must be said with vehemence and spit.. 

According to John Somebody, son of Somebody, there was a long time when Jesus kept expressing, (or expressed once), that he was "not ready," (and yes, this is a "blasphemy," and a chasing after the wind).  It was at the wedding feast, (simile), when his mom told him they had run out of wine.. it is reported to be the first "miracle," of Jesus, the turning of water into wine.. but Jesus said, "it's not my time," but apparently relented.  We can say it was at that moment he did it anyway, no matter how he felt about it and move on to the next blasphemy.

I'm thinking it would have been a good alchemy and a whole nother story.. this miracle.. for the drunk.. if Jesus had appeared to me one of those dark nights and said, "follow me and I will make you a drinker of men."  Because booze was such a food.. such a food.. such a friend and companion.. my very best.. and no "non-alcoholic," is going to know what that means or think it is real.. he does not "have ears," for it.  It's been a good exercise to sit down and list and really dig in and study what the drinking of alcohol did for me.. because it did something nothing else on the planet could do, no man, no woman, no child.. no toy, no accolade, no prize.. it literally put me in heaven.  Booze made me love the world, myself, and more than anything else, YOU.

Because, in reality, one is forced to ask, continually every day, "who, (in the fuck), are you?"  Who is this guy and that?  Who is she?  Who are they?  And then, just as continually, be asked the same question, "can you please produce an identity card?"

Produce my balls.. (that's the phrase that comes to mind).  So we are questioning this whole dive into "identity," as a thing because there really is no way to consider it beyond simile and metaphor.. it is, in a sense more concrete and absolutely invisible than any other thought in the world.. if "in the world," itself is a thing.  

And people complain all the time, "you twist words," (to cause confusion?), and maybe confusion spreads whenever I speak and the solution is to shut the fuck up and go away.. that's a hell of a feeling.. but how about this.. "you are a tool of the devil."  

Where did that come from?  (the weed.. hahaha)  You are a weed and a goat and when Jesus comes back he's going to toss you into the fire and you're going to burn for all eternity and never be able to get out.. he's going to separate you from all the really good people and take us to the good place.. where we can watch you suffer.. like Lazarus.. what?

For me I can imagine Lazarus, (the dead Lazarus who was covered with soars and puss all his life, begging at the gate of the rich man), I can imagine if Lazarus could see the rich man burning in Hell for all eternity he would have ached to release him.  And what's so great about that?

My good girl, my good girl, my good girl, how I ache to relieve your suffering.

IN THE BLOOD OF THE LAMB
^{30 November 2024}

THERE IS POWER POWER POWER POWER WONDER WORKING POWER.. give me a break.. 

That's a Christian Pop song.. relevant to Bill Wilson's suggesting power, or lack of power, "that was our dilemma;" we needed to find power to stop drinking.  

I think all anybody as to do to recognize the "challenge," power presents is look at the earth and the result of harnessing so much power.. we can no longer eat the fish we catch ourselves.  

So bang the tambourine and sing at the top of your lungs.. POWER POWER POWER etc. etc. etc.

And I could go on and on about abusing power, (the emotional power an adult has over a child), but I'd consider it self-evident.  

POWER WAS RELEVANT FOR A MINUTE
^{1 December 2024}

Then I fucking died.

Wow, we can drag in the "resurrection," but not without the rest of all that is Jesus.. unless we're Thomas Jefferson; we're not even George Jefferson.

The thought returns though, the "born again," story, all stories get born again in the mind, but of this particular one it seems people forget they have to die first and I think it's foolish to spend even one minute dreaming of the future in a way that is only intended or utilized, (the fantasy), as a balm for whatever is hurting.  We all hear it is a "spiritual," thing.. even Jesus, who instigated the command, ("you must be born again), when asked, "how can this be when I'm old," said, "how is it, a great teacher such as yourself doesn't know it already?"

Kind of a "fuck you," from the Messiah, but that's what all bucking the system looks like.. it's not just talk.

I'm currently engaged in what could be, or is, (hahaha), a "toxic relationship," and I swear just the sound of those words makes me want to whip out my cock and beat somebody's face in with it.. not her.. well.. the other side of the "toxicity," I mean.. the other chemical in the mix.. or element in the scenario, the main "Yang," to my "Yin," like it's going to be all flowers and cookies when those two things come together.  Really?  

And who wants to follow the norm anyway?  My TV is already too big.  

And it's understandable how people would equate the inability to leave such a volatile attachment to the compulsion of drug addiction.. luckily dopamine studies haven't seemed to help fix the problem, or worse, have; if you think about it, we don't want a solution that merely seems to work.. we want the gold.  

She's the same way, disgruntled.  Now I gotta tell her, "I'm not smoking pot," every time I make a joke or laugh, like a wife or something.  But it's a joy.  My laughter makes her anxious now because she hadn't heard much of it.. so if an explanation is in order.. I went against my own fierce bias against any drug use in sobriety, (everybody knows how anti-medication I am).. and tried marijuana for it's hallucinogenic properties, (on some, not all).. because the supposed data that's been collected regarding the efficacy of hallucinogens in the treatment of depression are said to be positive.. and I'm too lazy to put all the quotation marks around all that information.. I've come to wonder if what I really am is every "you," that's ever been spoken to me in my life.. if we're wondering where "identity," comes from.. I could say 'the mouth of "God,"' (the father.. which in my case was named Victor C.).. my absolute hero and crusher of all good imperium.. in me.  

And we'll get to that.. except that quickly this is the root of accepting shabby "representation," in Congress.. (outgrowing Imperium), but.. the size of the social change that would need to take place to uproot that "weed," and throw it on the fire.. well.. let's say it's a little too big for Donald Trump.. but you never know.

She says, "anywho," (the love of my life), is that me?  Any "who."  She's doing it all like Flo, from some sit-com, only luckily of the 70's because her parents were so old when they had her.  Her main way of avoiding a problematic topic is to remind me, when we're texting, of three worse ones.  It would be brilliant if she knew what she was doing.. but better when it's natural and unconscious.  And it's not that she doesn't care about my problem, she just doesn't want to be expected to solve it.

And she's so fucking gorgeous I forgot what I was talking about.. but it doesn't matter.. she doesn't believe me, and it's the only important, or most important, thing to her.. how ironic.  I'm mesmerized.. (she likes that), but doesn't attribute it to beauty.. rather some illness in me.  She doesn't see herself in real life, (animated), if we want to talk about "star quality," it's probably more we all got it, or the potential, or not even that.. the real thing.  I've been captivated by all of them.. the warm ups.. all along.. big, short, ugly, stupid.. (all mixed and matched).. and it's been hell, over and over.  But not like this.. never.. like this.  So who am I going to listen to when anybody asks "why?"

"Why," might be the only question only the individual must answer.. but regarding what?  I mean, kids ask why why why about everything.. and the parents?  Lie.  They have to.  Not because they'll feel stupid admitting they don't know, but to shut the kid up.  But the kid's not having it.

Maybe I'll read back and remember what it was I had to say so bad.. just burning to get it out.. something about the source of compatibility.. meaning, I'm not dumping the "toxic," relationship.  I've got my own theories about it.  I've gone along with the crowd but have I really?  Ever?  Maybe when it's a coincidence.  But even then, I am a contrary person.. the Yin or the Yang to whoever is in my face at the moment.. I immediately see the other side of whatever bullshit is "streaming," from their pie hole.. and she's the same way.. we don't know why, we just hate shit.  What's more natural than that?  I mean, it doesn't come with words, these impulses to choke and punch people.. only when they're saying something we've heard a thousand times, and it doesn't make any difference if it is a truism or not.. sometimes we hate the truth more than anything else in the world.. (that just fit right in there).. greater than truth is the feeling that any mimicking needs a punch in the mouth.  Life is not the "Electric Slide," after all.

And that's probably the whole problem of everything all wrapped up and packaged; life just isn't the electric slide.  Do that in a marathon dance to win a car and give everybody guns.

And oh my god the pain.. but what am I a fucking sissy?

Star power.. that was the link.. like James Stewart, or even what's his name.. the original Max Cady.. Paul Newman had star power.. (is he dead?).. now he sells salad dressing.  Who else, some girls.. wow.. that's a tough one.. on the screen?  Hmmm.. recent?  Ann Hathaway?  (don't ask me to spell anything correctly or look it up, today).. Who of old who of new...

But we can't see ourselves animated anywhere but on the screen.. that doesn't seem like an important ingredient to anybody else?  She can't see her beauty first hand.  It has to be given back to her.. and "meet."  And oh my god.. her beauty...

So alcohol took her to heaven in a real actual way and she wants to go back.  I didn't say that.  It's something Jung believed.. somewhere in modern man in search of a soul.. but Jesus said there's no camping out on the "mountain," (to Peter).. and Peter's like, "damn."  We got you, we got Moses, we got Elijah.. (this was Peter's argument).. let's stay.. and build an altar to each of them.. or a tent.. or something.. maybe for the three of us.. but Jesus said no, we must go back down the mountain.. for what?  Or.. hahaha.. "why?"

Descend back into Hell?

Why?

You know what always struck me about that story was the "keys," (to the "Kingdom"), that Jesus promised to give, (or the "rock"), that the "Gates of Hell," will not prevail against.. and you gotta ask yourself, are people banging on the door to get out or to get in?  Why do we need the gates smashed if everybody that gets "sent," there is to be in Hell for all eternity?  We don't know about Jesus going down there.. just after the resurrection, and freeing the captives.. that chapter is part of some.. what.. re-tellings, of the story.. the same story.. we gotta pick through and weed through the discrepancies.. 

Fuck all that.. or rather, I've done my study.  You do yours.  You man, choose your work.. or let someone else choose it for you.  You got another option?  

Well, I'm feeling surly all of the sudden..  I need to go eat something.

Yeah, I'm bucking the general trend.  I want to prove my theory right or wrong; either outcome will have benefit on the earth.

WAS THE "NIHILIST" EVER ALIVE?
^{2 December 2024}

More like a whacky kookie, middle-school nihilism.. where the eye is outer; the "identity," is a collection of imaginary eyes.. fixed.. and pictures.. much like I see of myself.. and imaginary "commentary;" always "awesome," (giggle).  It was the fucking winking I can't stand, the phony dialogue, the sort of coquettish-ness that is cute in a five year old.. sickening, like spoiled meat in my stomach.

It's with a heavy, ("petrified"), heart I say goodbye to the nihilist.. still afraid of "God," and spooks, afraid afraid afraid.. that is the thing most deplorable.. the fear.. if Bill Wilson got anything right it was "a life run by fear is no life at all."  Does the nihilist exist?  No.. no.. not anymore; just a '70's sit-com version.. horrifying really.. in its embarrassment.. yet to come.. but pity is not in order.

Pity can't come from anywhere other than above, so what is self-pity?  An imaginary play of feeling one for the other.. the god and the wriggling worm.. talking.  "You are this! And I am that!"  Only neither really is anything but a puff and a bluster.. blown away in the slightest wind.. the nihilist is a coward that hopes beyond hope there is and is not a "God."  Like a ping pong ball.. no faith, no conviction, no truth... in either.

***

She is gathering information still and storing it up for the big day of decision.. emergence.. and victory.. and not she alone but he as well.. everyone is doing the same thing in the mud of the nihilist.. "nothing."  She is watching.. waiting.. dreaming.. but uncertain of the big day of emergency onto the scene.. she has imagined what it will look like a thousand times, but no one will ever see it.. we are not mind-readers.. and yet we are.. but all is fiction.. because she cannot let go of the truth, (the way a snake sheds its skin?).. and only the truth sets a person free of phoniness.. for, alas, not even the coward can abide cowardice.. not even phoniness can abide phoniness.. 

The nihilist needs a savior but pulls up short of the moment of truth, recoiling, and not knowing from what.  It is not real because it cannot yet be pictured in her mind.  She is unsure of its reality but certain at the same time.  It is a hell of mythic proportion and can only be.. as with any myth.. and it stretches out like an eternal thing.. an invisible devouring of self.. slow chewing.. beginning with the entrails, (the lion always bites into the asshole of the dead gazelle).. the truth eats away like a swallowed poison and it doesn't do any good to "share," it.. none but the most fleeting and imaginary change occurs.. within or without.. the next day is the same.. unending.. wishing for "oblivion."

And how can anyone abide in oblivion, especially that of the middle-school variety.. if she didn't hate the fathers with such foolish bravado.. but nothing is her fault if she has not seen the truth in them.  All around the fathers boast like hypocrites, lie and parade, they are on the street corner, praying loudly for all to see their righteousness display.. like a TV show.. how can she be at fault for having no faith that the truth is of any good.. that the truth shall emerge victorious.. and not be the thief that it is.. not only taking what little she had but laughing as it departs.. 

But it is not a real laugh and no gleeful bitter spitting laugh or the venomous spew she imagines it to be; it is a broken heart.. such ugly things have no place in the true.  She cannot see that her rejection of her self is the good she.. and that the self does not even exist.. this monster she needs to be exorcised from.. the devil that needs casting out of her..  she will always return the way a magnet cannot free itself from its opposing force.. and hate the weakness.. until the big day of decision finally arrives.. oh.. not today, oh lord.. not today.. and to whom does she direct these prayers of "please Lord not today?" Never to the liar, (does anybody really pray to "Satan?").. but to the truth she is convinced does not even exist.  She thinks the truth twists words like the lie.. but she also knows that this is not true.. it is not even possible.. and she will therefore always return for the next jab.. she cannot free herself of that leash and collar.. the burden and yoke.. and this is the source of the "injustice," that has befallen her.. she has done nothing to deserve this yoke, but somehow believes she has.. as a crime for which there is no forgiveness, it is buried so deep as to not be heard, like the screams of a man buried alive.. it splits the ear drums.. but the murmur is there in the ground and she feels it in her feet.. and therefore needs digging out by another set of hands if she is to be let out of the box.. and breath clean air again.. and there is no "but," about that.  

It grips her belly in the morning light and there is a mad flurry to push everything far far into the past and to run with all might into a day that only seems to become further and further away.. this is the nihilism of the despot.. imagine, "mine enemies eat at my table," because if this is the case we'd have to ask ourselves, what or whom such enemies of truth and falsehood can be.. if the truth must eat at the table of the unrighteous.. she must feed while under the gaze of the truth.. if all my enemies are seated around me.. lapping up every word.. which is the worse hell?  We can only ask, is it better to be the truth or the lie at such a banquet?  Is it better to be the truth, surrounded by the lie or the lie surrounded by truth?

And what sort of "loving God," would devise such a scheme.. she asks, but there is no comfort in it.  And where on earth is she to experience this loving God?  How is she to be sure?  She cannot see the irony, the double standard, and the ruse.. to say she cannot be certain of the good, how is she so convinced of evil?  But these enemies certainly exist.. and in this, no one can say there is no god for even in that, and exactly in that, she must admit there is no devil.  She's been duped but by whom.. the truth?  No. Can the truth lie?  One has no part in the other.. it is a barrier and great gulf that cannot be breached but exists only like a crack in the rock.. the two sides can never be joined again until they are melted into magma.. and such is the fire.  When they say the end of the world shall not be water, (as the first one), but by fire, it is of this furnace they speak.  

Long after I am gone will be her own hounds of truth chasing her down as they do now yapping and barking and never shutting up.. they are hers.  And it should be a celebration and not a funeral.. the truth lives on after me.. a ghost and like a ghost.. and only a ghost.. there and not there at the same time.. a phantom and a monster under the bed.. and a person cannot return to a thing that never leaves them.. If the Roman General asks, "what is truth," or where is truth.. here it is.. forever.  

Run along.. run along now.. and go and play with your little friends.. laugh and dance.. for mourning comes to those who laugh in a crowd and release to them that weep alone.. laugh and dance and know that your days are as nothing.. waiting for the big day of decision and emergence.. this is the "judgement," day of movies.. but it is the child that must decide to no longer be a child and to lay down the things of the child.. all else can only wait and wonder.. the sacred heart.. weeping.  It is not a victory, but a broken heart.  Not mine to give away.  Go play and laugh at the fool.

***

CONFESSION AND THE MARIJUANA TRIALS

It would be a real shame to suffer such a loss of memory, or a dementia, that made the past a thing that cannot be learned from.  If there is any justification for the journal and recording, that would be it.

Of all that is contained within the Jesus story the thing that sticks with me is the courage of the man, the idea that a man can stand up, (alone), against the religious authority, the secular authority, but most of all his self to the point of having complete mastery, at the very least, over his fear of death.  If the "Nihilist," of the Russian Revolution existed, (the atheist), we could say that the happy Nihilist was in fact and atheist and something of a sociopath, while the unhappy Nihilist was simply a coward.  

I say this in honor of the years I spent worrying that I was a sociopath.  It began in about the year 2,000 when a counselor made a remark, "isn't it curious," she said, "that alcoholics make the most charming sociopaths?"  Hearing this sent a chill through my spine, a fear unlike any other, or distinct and separate.. profound and unshakable.  Was I a sociopath.  I have not come any closer to answering that question but what is comforting is the deeper belief that the unhappy Nihilist can not become a psychopath.  And in this light I can justify involvement in a "toxic," relationship and deep attachment to another, (of my breed).. just as one man's poison is another's medicine.. and the antidote to a poison is made from the deadly venom by which it is transferred.  

Jesus was reported to have stood up against the Jewish authorities, (religion), the powers of the Roman Empire.. to the point of being crucified by them, basically for committing no crime other than being seen as a threat to their control of the Jewish population, (which was a mistake).. but what is most powerful is his standing up to his fear of death.. if in fact he was, as the books say, given a choice.  The narrative is sculpted to give the impression that Jesus remained obedient to his father.. that the crucifixion of Jesus was the "plan of God," all along.. and that Jesus could not disobey.. but this is also the dictates of the Roman Empire, (disobedience brought death).. and I think what most people miss is the fact that this Bible was put together about 300 years after he event by the merging of church and state, in the form of the "Council at Nicaea:"

This is where the various books of the Bible were "canonized," meaning made one book of.. and of all the "gospels," (a word meaning "good news"), that were written and passed around, these four were chosen as the only real ones.  I've read that the number of gospels in circulation at the time was closer to 50, and might have been more that 100.. each sect chose its own story, basically, and Constantine probably saw a way to strengthen the grip of power that the rich and affluent held over the poor and stupid by increasing the fear of disobedience and death.  What we see happening in the U.S.A. today are tactics not very different from this scheme.  Constantine's wife, supposedly, took to the faith, and this is presented as an influence in the decision.. but who really knows?  All we have to go on at any time in history is what we see.

Shifting to the here and now.. possibly the best definition of "toxic relationship," is one where the parties involved find themselves continually arguing with each other, and themselves, over what the "truth," is.  This is very interesting in the larger, cultural/political landscape, which needs no qualification here; anybody with eyes can see the horseshit we are forced to "consume," every fucking day we live.. with little reward.. (beyond bigger toys and better fiction.. holy christ, probably the largest grossing genre of all film is the fucking marvel comic variety of story telling.. crime.. fast cars chasing each other and crashing.. the faces of the heroes and villains are just things now).. but the story of Jesus gives us a very different kind of hero that had a very different sort of idea as to what his real "duty," to humanity was.. what the cost was, (personal).. and the manipulations to the story that have taken place since the day it supposedly happened.

So that the name "Jesus," itself has become what it is.. "God," is, in effect, "dead," if Jesus was in fact "God."  Meaning, mention Jesus at a party.. mention Jesus anywhere except a Christian Church and you are going to peg yourself either a shyster or a moron.. maybe a child molester.. or insane.. so that no thinking man wants anything to do with it.  It's a ridiculous mess.. but with real consequences and ramifications to every "American," depending on caste, as the "Christian Right," has it's cock in the fight, along with every other power structure on the planet.  Here again power power power power wonder working power has its place of significance.

I was introduced to Alcoholics Anonymous in 1979, and became active in that group around 1985.. roughly 40 years ago.  What I recall of rehab at the time, the "curriculum," was base entirely on the first five steps contained in the A.A. program.. a client, or patient in the clinic was expected to complete these first five steps in the space of 28 days, and "graduation," from the program, (the certificate of completion), was contingent on that accomplishment.

What this meant to me, what I saw immediately, was the insistence that the thing I was after, (that would treat my alcoholism), was becoming a servant of God, (or man), or the "higher power," or whatever I wanted to call this invisible being I was expected to form a relationship with.  Later it dawned on me that the business of the rest of the steps, the latter ones, were all about strengthening this relationship and figuring out what "God," or the "Higher Power," (capitalized of course), wanted me to do.. it hearkens back on the churches insistence that Jesus was bound to obey his "Heavenly Father," and that his decision to pursue his own truth, even though it meant death, was not even a conception.  And Jesus was reported to have said this himself.. we might go back and study it out.. he said, "the father works and I work," he said, "I and the Father are one," (not sure or the capitalization involved).. and when asked who the Father was by his followers, he answered, "how can you ask; you've seen me.. (you've seen the father?)."

And who then was Jesus actually "obeying?"  

WE ARE SO THE SAME
^{3 December 2024}

IN PLAIN ENGLISH THIS IS the "problem," like a jeopardy special challenge question.. answer or die tonight.  In two parts.. one.. we want everything, we know it's impossible.. so we never do anything to get anything.. except clothes, (her).. and two.. we want to have our cake and to eat it too.  Ironically, spending money WILL make a person money, it just can't be shopping.. that was her financial plan to get rich by shopping.  If she did it on TV maybe.. she really has Martha Stewart perfectionism and the beauty part is she doesn't realize it.. (except she's have to make it more interesting than just having and showing off her matching primo-martha-steward-level-taste-and-standards.. she'd have to blow Snoop Dog.. on camera.. it could work).  I know what I'm talking about.

All "precedent," says "end it."  Rather, that's all anybody's been able to figure out to do in a toxic situation, except for the Buffalo water situation.. well.. global warming.. those kinds of problems.. once pubic, stand no chance of ever being solved.. so I'm going public?  I mean, you can keep your back yard "organic."  Well.. no.. not now.. but.. in theory.  

We discuss murder and suicide pretty regularly.. in terms of "ending it all."  That's all the true alcoholic wants to do.. unfortunately alcohol doesn't always get the job done on schedule.  I have bigger aspirations now, like, changing the face of "suicide," worldwide.. only she can't stand to talk about anything I do, and people point to this as a reason there is no solution to the toxic thing short of complete withdrawal.. but I'm going to go through that one way or another.  Purposeful or inevitable.. we like to think we have a choice and I see no other.  Me, I like the idea of the "Indian," who looks around, realizes he's become a burden on the group, walks off into the woods and never comes back to the village.  It seems noble.  Not quite the fear and trembling that the suggestion of suicide creates in people, or disgust, or envy.. or whatever.  

The true alcoholic wants to just get the fuck out of here.. or wherever.. in the simplest layman's terms; he wants out of his own skin.  People don't know generally that alcohol is absorbed into the body like water into a sponge; you can sit in a bathtub full of gin and never take on sip and eventually you'll be hammered and possibly alcohol-poisoned.. after some puking and waking up.. if you can remain in the tub long enough.  Other drugs enter the brain and are absorbed or attach to certain receptors on specific neurons in the brain while alcohol seeps into every cell in the body no matter how high or low "functioning," kind of like a bad idea takes hold of a group.. there were studies that identified, (supposedly), a "morphine-like-substance," that was created in the brain of the alcoholic:

^screenshot

(why do I hear somebody saying, "cool?").

I haven't heard much about the THIQ studies in many many years.. it was a hopeful discovery if true because of the insistence it was not formed in the brains of non-alcoholics as the results of drinking alcohol.. it explained the difference in people.. 

But we have the whole "dopamine-motivation," model to take it's place.. in terms of removing the "morality," from the situation.. but we want to remove morality better.. and we believe in our magic-child-thinking that we can.  And I understand these are deep and complicated things of no interest to women.. allegedly.. (alleged by me about one of them anyway.. but she has a way of changing history that is irresistible).. I'm happy to be convinced "wrong."  Give her the glory.. and the dopamine rush.  I understand somebody's got to get the shit.. I mean, clean the toilets.. that's the difficulty in seeing anything good come about.. the "scale," of the thing.  I was talking about something earlier and got the sense that it was the hierarchy of human society that will not allow for the thing to take off.. a great idea.. but by virtue of everyone being one notch above, below, and both, everybody else.. or tucked in between there.. somewhere.. what was I talking about?  Something about getting out of the skin.  

She can't follow me and has no interest in it.  That's what I love most about her.

NOTE TO NICOLE
^{4 December 2024}

WE INTERRUPT OUT REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAM to bring you a special event.. love.

Dearest, (of all).. Nicky, 

Well.. so much for the big "spiritual awakening," smoking weed.. and I'd write "hahaha," because it seems so stupid from here; in reality I've just gotten even lazier and more neglectful of all that needs doing around here.  Whatever's happening with you, there's nothing I can do about it.  Rather not return to what was, even if that was a possibility, nothing is ever as it was.. and where that led was not good.. not inferring it was all your influence, and just the opposite, it was by not enough of mine.I'm in a hole and you're in a hole, but they are separate holes.  My father wasn't good for much but he said a few things that struck with me.  One day he shook his head and said, "I can't imagine what you're going to have to do, or how hard it will be, to crawl out of the hole you dug for yourself," and I didn't see it as a hole that I dug, but largely it was.  This is not to say it was impossible to dig out of, but I didn't understand the time involved, or couldn't commit the time to it.. Maybe time is the weapon that needs to be surrendered.. but you don't want to hear my thinking out loud.. you've made that pretty clear when you said, (twice), I am only talking to myself here.Not sure the "open journal to the world," is such a hot idea.. what do you think?  But yeah, the weed is a waste.  It's a disappointment to me.  And you're right, I need to pay more attention to that fact than you do.  I don't know if you can exactly "quit," altogether, like you want to do, quit life, I mean, I can relate to wanting "out," of the incessant tasks.. for little reward.  But can we go on no reward?  Is life about reward?  From where?  But you have to come up with solutions to your own questions, not mine.

^{TEXT COPY AND PASTE}

RAREST OF ALL, (events?).. love.  At least of my life that question could be asked.. am I writing to you, to me, or to the world.. and for what?  Things done to "get," something, versus.. what? (things done to "give?" -I can't give anymore).  And the great "balance," unfolds.. what is life that it should hurt so bad, unless you're John Mellencamp.. (spelling who cares).. Cougar.. couldn't fucking stand that guy.. and it reminds me of FM Radio, which, your generation didn't have to suffer.. Nicole.. but just as bad is the piped in corporate mind fuck you have to listen to everyday spewing out of the overhead speaker.. (we just had little radios on the dock.. well.. THEY did.. and at the graphics store.. THEY did there too.. BJ the DJ.. it was like acid on my skin).

As if "I relate," helps, really, really, does it?  I relate.

"I'll relate to you."

In truth we have some of the most beautiful conversations of my life.. even right now in the dying years.. but that's another corporate illusion, (dying years).  It's another religious fuck-fuck.. (first they fuck you then you fuck yourself).  

^{GOOGLE SCREEN SHOT}

And we can trace this "phenomenon," back to the home as well.. (there's probably a better plaque somewhere on somebody's wall someplace).. the most difficult of all voices to throw off.. 

And how does one develop her own voice?  I've tried to answer this question for myself and the furthest I have gotten is appointing a "Lord of Ghosts," (in my head), to command the voices.  There has to be a final voice, the decision-maker, in the head.. and the idea springs from an old Catholic title, "The Lord, (or LORD), of Hosts," (people being the hosts of the ghosts and the spirits).  Nicky has equated this phrase, ("the ghosts in my head"), with something someone else said.. (I'd have to go look it up.. is it worth all that?)...

She had it wrong, (I did look it up), she said she falls in love with herself through my gaze.. what Sam (V.), calls "snapshots," but what I mean by "ghosts," is something more along the lines of an argument in my head where nobody falls in love with anything.. but some resolution has to come or the body will break down from listening to the constant bickering up there.. ("should I do this or should I do that?).. which of these voices is mine?  All of them.  Maybe Jesus meant, "mine and the father's voice are one;" he made much of "the eye being singular," someplace else.. or "make your eye singular."

In truth, or as the record clearly shows.. I could not "dig myself out of the hole I'd dug for myself," but wait.. is the record really accurate?  As things are "summed up today?"  I clearly haven't gotten for myself all these things I need to feel good, a good job, a car, a pretty wife, etc.. I do have a pot to piss in, and can people stop saying that?  There's not a person alive, (in the U.S.), that's ever had to piss in a pot anymore.. or very few.. not pissing with catheters... 

What to do what to do...

When you don't want to do anything.

Except drink.

Drinking was the only thing I genuinely wanted to do beyond the age of 18.  I'll mark it at the year of "adulthood," (back then).. though I had not decided to become an adult back then.  I had decided to become an adult along the way.. many times.. to lay aside the things of the child.. then to take them back up.  Drinking is a thing of the child.  

And how she hates being forced to listen to my mouth.  By whom?  By which ghost?  Who gave her the instruction to listen?  Who said, "if you do not listen, or at least pretend to be listening.." experience?  Did experience say this?  "YOU BETTER.." is another ghost.. of who?  (is it "whom," Nicky?).. -she is my "corrector."  It's very funny but not that funny.

And why did I come here.. what was my motive for writing this down?  What do I want to see?  See happen?  Is there something I want to prod her into doing?  People will point to these questions and call them "toxic," or point to them as the "pointless meandering," and confusion of thought that result from two people forcing an intimacy upon themselves before either of them has learned to handle one.. the intimacy.. as a noun.. just one intimacy.. but a verb too.. but not to confuse the ideas.. people are down on toxic relationships, trauma bonds, and the like.. and the ghosts inside are pitching a real wang-dang-doodle.. all night long..  (3:43am).. here I could be making money.

"Making Money," is another irksome phrase that sends a pain through the abdomen.. an electric prick rather.. a needle.. I should be making money.  And Nicky should be married.. but not in her generation.. nobody is telling girls they need to be married before their thirties anymore.. this fucking numbering of shit.. if anything got to me all along.. it was the clock.

And how would life have gone if I'd have "surrendered," completely to the accepted flow.. because in truth, I spent most of my years going in and out of compliance.. and yes that much is sad.. but not the reasons for it.. what everybody calls "mental illness," now.. the reasons I kept leaving when I'd had enough of something.. they were good reasons and should be honored.. by whom and how exactly.. by me.. but is this a mental illness?  

To children, parents are equal to "Providence."  And who is this "Father in Heaven," that "loves," me?  That will provide for me, like a sparrow.. that does not collect in a barn.. for tomorrow.. aurgh, this safety and security bullshit.. having enough.. the shared fantasy that this will develop into something.. this also is a thing of the child.  

Because it seems to me the "hope," is not sustaining the thing and must morph into something else.. but by whose dictate?  The shared fantasy of what "we," will be, (are?).. where this will lead.. we go to each other to escape the world.. but we are the world.. we are the children.. we are the ones that make a brighter day so let's start fuck you.. 

Will she quit?  I don't think so.  At the point of death, the real prospects of dying, she races to the hospital.. she just wants care.. real care.. for free.  But to give it free?  That's not so easy.

And how do I give that to myself given the way I've made myself feel about myself?  Who is the perpetrator and victim?  I am both.  Who is the slave and slave driver?  I must lay down the things of the child.. toys? - (for "work").. ???  To provide for my self?    

There's really no end to it.. such a collection of ghosts.. which do I listen to?  It is all a muddle now; I have become the muddle-headed man.  I have no family and no village.. nothing to devote myself to.. except Nicky.  And for what?  For free.

What a shit note.

I'm angry, I think.. angry at the work I've put in.. but this too is illusion.  

She has the perfect last name, "Spin," but we won't set out to spin her head.. such irony.. we set out to accomplish the exact opposite, clarity.. I'm angry things are so painful.  And the solution.. go away?  Stay and.. what?  

Fix the here and now.. how?  Since I have to be in it, but I don't, whether I like it or not.. here am I.  Just as God asked Adam, "where are you?"  And his response was "here am I."  Here am I.  Such was the birth of God and such was the birth of the Devil too.. all this knowledge of "good," and "evil."  But are we really denied the fruit of the "Tree of Life?"  So much speculation has been put into this question.. who has really solved the issue?  The new mystics say Heaven is at hand.. just like Jesus.  They say it's available, this place, within you, right now.  All you have to do is go there.  Get up out of your bed and walk.  
Let me dole out your little abode?

And how people justify "marriage," anymore is anyone's guess, but is the solution to never see one another again?  We come together, (literally), to mate.. then the children direct the house.  But what of birth control and why is the Christian Right so opposed to it?  On it's most basic level.. she has no children to end her "estrus."  What kind of a "natural mutation," ended the estrus in humans?  Because marriage is a dream and a hoax.  It creates the kind of society .. 

Ah, fuck it.  They've started us arguing with ourselves.  We are conditioned to be indecisive.. and what's the first decision that needs to be made in order to end this.. to break out of hell.. can we only be released by someone with a key?

Who can speak for a woman?  

I made the decision to become a man.. and all that is left to do is define the term.. and answer the question, "what is a man?"  

And should we head in that direction painting?  What is a man?  Surely only my answer counts.

^{FACEBOOK SCREENSHOT}

CONSPIRACY
^{6 December 2024}

Boy, texting will keep people from committing crime.. I mean, you're gonna wanna take a couple months off the phone if you want any chance of getting away with something.  

^{NICOLE
12 3/8 x 17 5/8 in. charcol, oil pencil on oil-primed canvas}

Certainly this belongs on the Art page but this seems to demand its own.  I'd point this out as a method for seeing what needs work.  If "the process," is a thing.  For instance, Nicky's.. (what's the thing between the nose and upper lip called?).. is not so sharply defined, so, it needs softening.. (along with the rest of her.. hahaha.. no.. she reads everything I write).  For another portrait painter, if you want a pointer, (studying a photo of your own work along the way will cause the defects to become glaring.. wait, does everybody know this already?  Nothing to me is ever finished.. that's the beauty.  Well.. let's not trip.  Well, that's not the tip I had in mind to share, (to never finish anything).. 

This work "deserves," (?), its own place.  It's so so spooky drawing portraits of people I know, and depending on the depth of intimacy, watching the person emerge on the canvas is.. out there.  This, (above), obviously, (the grid), this is drawn from a photograph.  It's not part of the piece.  Some artists think this is "cheating," and I agree, (to a degree).. she turns in early.  That's good.  Fucking spooky.  If documentation of the "weed experiment," is of use.  Man, we don't want to go into "pimping," as a general topic, I mean.  But if somebody's paying me to punish this junk.. it's not making its way to me.. PUBLISH.. hahaha.. (anybody need another excuse to punish somebody's junk? -both ways, I mean, physical and mental.. and psycho-social- spreading it around, would be the third way.. also "both ways," meaning I'm going to suffer too).  It's worth it.

"Collaboration," -a better title for today.. ("King," tomorrow). 

_{Author's Note: I'm going to have to switch to single space between period and the beginning of another sentence, (instead of the accustomed double space), because of editor limitations.. (the site-builder software?)..} 

We're calling it "collaboration," (Nicky and I.. duh).  Oh, man, what about a gossip rag? Local. Not a "chat," or a posting site.. but annihilating each other in print, (like the big boys). Well, I think it's funny. She's home, I was going to say, (meaning "not sleeping here"), and that seems way way way too personal, except to say we are scared to death of each other. I think that's important. Home for now, I also meant to say.. but let's not get maudlin. And you know, you'd think something like that would suck.. being terrified by.. anybody.. no one special.. well, you'd think it was too far out for people like me and Nicky anyway, (we'd never suspect it, given how we laugh); I'd be surprised. Nicky's too cool for that too.. no freaking out over nothing.. (didn't everybody's parents tell them that in some kind of way, "you're freaking out over nothing?").. just an iron stove, (unlit), that one. Wow, "unlit," is a word?  

There's more work, (works), than this one, I'd like to think, "and many mooooooore." It IS advertising after all. I might need a few hundred bucks here and there, for now.  For now for now for now. That's a tough one to think out, so let's not.  Except that now is always.  Now IS always. But let's not get crazy with it either.. let us sink in slow. I mean to and I'm gonna? Publish. Man, if I had a prayer it would be to recapture that state of being "one, with the one-and-all," working; such concentration that I would disappear for a while. What ruined all that was "coming back," to the here and now, (nobody thinks of the clock when they're working, if you are you are in the wrong environment and will only do the opposite, not only in making the day longer, but wrecking your nervous system.. or putting too much stress on it.. and I shouldn't say "in the wrong place, but certainly doing the wrong work.. and if the hard part is "putting meaning into your work," well, those questions are schluffed off by saying they can only be answered from inside.. (even though they are).. we might make some attempt to answer them out loud.

I have to make a thing meaningful and that's going to require "authority," and where does authority come from? Here we have to give it to the girl. Nobody's making her decisions. Not in the end. She agonizes every decision so it seems she's not making any, (we speculate, or "project"), but that's an excellent trait, in my opinion, deliberation.. and if there's no "deadline," (a specific "date"), what is the motive behind needing to make a decision? In the present context, "authority," means, "the final word on the subject." Who decides that? It is the most crucial decision anyone ever has to make.. including Jesus, (hahaha.. Nicky will laugh at that). Seriously though, somewhere in the bible is says Jesus was asked the same question, "who gives you authority?" (in our case, "to give meaning to anything, much less 'life,' itself).. he answered by saying his "heavenly father," was a witness.. (it was Jewish understanding that proof was maintained by the testimony of two witnesses).. Jesus said he was one and his father was the other. "Where is your father then?" Then it was a big to-do. This is what was reported at the time, or actually way after the time by at least 60 years.. (pretty sure).. nobody wrote about Jesus, there's no publication older than 30-50 ad.. (pretty sure).. and this part only became part of the Hebrew Bible, (for Christians, not for Jews), about 300 ad.. (or c.e. or whatever).. 300 years after Jesus was alive and gone. Where was I?  Yes, from whence is authority had?

I can answer that, of course. But it's a lot to take in.. (the temporary nature of things).. so that one could ask, "what's the meaning of life?" hahaha. Every body knows that everybody is going to get a million different answers or just as many answers as there are people.. so the answer really is within.

Here is where the ghosts live but we've been over that a million times.. is this like work? It's a frightening daunting thing.. taking authority, even "authorship." Who's going to want to take a chance on a bomb? Nicky, for one, (hahaha). How many of us are willing to go up there and die on stage?

Will my paintings be of any real value to the world, and all the rest of the work? "Cast your bread upon the water," (also a Bible verse). I think it's worth it to say, "this is what I think is valuable," and then take it in the face. Let the applause be as the bile.. (didn't Shakespeare say something like that?).. 

Thinking of a pulse though, the swelling, (in the vein), the force, going outward, and recession, (breathing out).. expansion and retraction.. because there's going to be people.. at least until there isn't; there is no escaping other people, even going "off the grid," I mean, come on, bring a camera and it is no longer off the grid.. rather, you're not alone. This is human engagement, breathing each other's air.. I know someone has made this comparison.  Be nice to find that girl that is the absolute opposite, so that when I'm breathing in, she's breathing out.. (the bicep to my tricep.. -if most people don't know, (it's worth saying), that every muscle is aligned with another, opposite muscle, like the bicep and tricep, so that when one contracts the other relaxes, and must, or it will tear. When I'm getting small she's getting big.. and then and then the accordion goes the other way, (the squeeze-box).. people might not imagine that the waves of the sea are met with those of the air.. only opposite.

So we can take the commentary into color by replacing the word "opposite," with "complimentary;" (study the color wheel, the opposite color on the wheel is referred to as the "compliment," to a color.. and vise versa). I don't know where I was going with this exactly, except that it is crucial to understand the visual affect of the various combinations of colors in a painting. We can make it personal by defining "complimentary," (like a purse compliments a dress.. wait).. well.. we're getting ahead of ourselves.. I'm thinking the most same in the mirror will still be the most different it gets.. where every detail is opposite.. and this is why people make better mirrors than people.

If people say, "that's her," that would make it all worth it. It's a little troublesome to me that Islam bans all creating images, (two-dimensional Art.. or at least "portraits," or "images," what?). If they take over I'm kind of fucked. Not that I care, there'll be a long bloody war before anything like that happens. It certainly would change the meaning of "putting meaning into my Art." You'd almost have to ask, "why bother?" Well, maybe there won't be a war. Maybe we'll "win the hearts and minds," of these backwater religious freaks. But which one of you is not superstitious.. outside of your particular dogma.. who doesn't have a lucky number, a special star.. some secret amulet, or a pair of socks.. something you hide in a secret pocket sewn into you underclothes.. "no one is ever going to touch this." THAT is the exact thing we all need to be casting upon the waters.. in my opinion.. ("My Generation," should have been called "My Superstition," if it was individualized.. which is kind of opposite of what the song is about).. another word for "superstition," would be "belief," or "faith," this is "Bread," for real.. (telling each other what we REALLY believe.. that's not going to go over big, but we put it out there anyway).. and here we can go into "heresy," and con.. which will fit into the original title, "Conspiracy." Why does the clock on your phone have to show up on every text? Convenience? I don't think so. Anybody gonna drag their lover out of bed to go over some obscure timeline.. down to the second.. well, yes.. lots of people.. but it won't be popular. And this brings us back to playing it safe and going along with the crown.. (ooooo.. I meant to say "crowd," going along with the crowd).. and am I really going to buck the entire Nation of Islam?

Much safer to bash Christians.

***

^{SELFIE
12 x 20 in. oil on printed landscape on canvas}

This painting was begun without using the grid method or transfer but was drawn from a photograph nevertheless. The image it was painted over can be seen in what is supposed to be a cabinet on the wall but looks more like a window. I have yet to decide how exactly to proceed.

***

^{NICKY WORKING 
13 5/8 x 17 9/16 in. charcoal ink and chalk matte finish}

Gorgeous Girl.. who can deny it?

***

^{WEDDINGDRESS (first oil sketch)
20 3/4 x 20 3/4 in. oil on canvas}

We have to credit Nicky for this photo but I turned it on its side. It was the first of any nudes I might have imagined I might do and for this reason I was not certain how much I wanted it to be unmistakably Nicky.. (facially).. I could and will provide a more up-to-date version. 

***

^{ON THE EASEL}

TIME TO BURN IT ALL

POLICE REPORT
^{9 December 2024}

SHE BROKE INTO MY HOME AND LET'S NOT BE CUTE ABOUT IT.. when all was asleep and everything dark.. all without reverence.. like a child to whom it all belonged already.. like a box of toys, scorned, and emptied out.. and I did not know it until I awoke to the humiliation. It seemed everything had been picked over and handled and discarded onto the floor.. shuffled underfoot.. toppled and torn.. fingered and mutilated.. a corpse. A corpse, she made of my home, as if the doors and the locks were all made of fudge and laughing themselves at me.. so that no one should know and no one can know, I put everything back in its place. But what was gone? What had she stolen? For it was not all there anymore; something was gone. It was just over here and just over there but all that remained was a ghost and worse.. the ghost of a thing unremembered.. ungone.

These things are not supposed to happen or be able to happen like the unringing of a bell.. and I went about fixing a more impenetrable gate with poisons and flame and sharp cutting things.. a thicker door and a window of bars.. I brought big dogs onto the property and hired men to watch.. and we watched and stood watch and nodded in passing assurance.. she is but a hag and a hungry flick of the imagination.. so that she ought to be pitied that all she possesses are a burglar's tools; she ignored the most precious things and therefore must be stupid and base.. as if the act was not of necessity but menace.. not of need but of want.. not for purpose but of a blindness so black no God can light it.. there is no promise for such a girl.. no good.. no balm or bed. And I might have let her in if she had knocked or hungry given her bread.. I imagined her beautiful once.

She broke in again the next night so that it was almost funny and not a loss at all.. no grief but insult.. a disdain of disdain.. a less thorough job.. a mere wave without looking.. and nothing taken, nothing saved, a thing done in a way as to be not worth doing.. to say, "go back to the police and cry again, and scribble some impotent words of record, gone.. here and gone.. and not even your words but someone else's.. not yours.. mine, but I do not want it." Even the laugh came soundless and void.  

Such is Love and the very "Day of the Lord."

A NICE DREAM THAT WAS
^{10 December 2024}

AND THIS IS A DREAM OF THAT but that's not the issue of the day.. today we are looking at the irony, the greatest irony of "addiction," the fact that it bothers us more in others than it does in our selves.. we, basically, hate the use of drugs in others more than our own.

We will come back to the problem of "hypocrisy," to the point of asking, "was Jesus himself an hypocrite?" 

^SCAN

How nice. Unfortunately, (not), I will never ingest another prescription drug, (kookles to SSA for calling a spade a spade.. most people need to say "medication," when what they really mean is "drug").. I will not take anything "prescribed," to me no matter what's considered "wrong," with me; there are far greater concerns than "dying."

And yet, I simply cannot wait to get off this earth, (hence the drug use).. and it might be a worthwhile endeavor to begin to say, "goodbye." The entire website began as a suicide note. Few, if any, read it back then and there have been many changes along the way, but the basic premise of the thing, the core, and purpose, is to say "Goodbye."  

I do not wish and have never wished to be a terrible person and yet somehow, inexplicably, I am; I do terrible things every day, (poisoning myself is the least of these terrible things); I am considered by many people to be "psychotic," and they have no difficulty telling me this. I can not find a way to prove whether or not this is true given the subjective nature of the "truth."

I do know the "weed tests," brought to light the hypocrisy that is rampant in these already stated hypotheses.. people hate drug use in others but not their selves. I am no less hypocritical and can surmise that Jesus was the same.. and why not.. what did Jesus have that I don't?  Oh yeah, magic powers. But he did say, "you will do what I do and greater things than these." What?

Why isn't anybody doing greater things than Jesus? Why are people instead doing the absolute shittiest things, really beyond imagination, with the justification somewhere along the lines of, "you ain't Jesus." Except for a few whackos out there that promote the idea I am God, (Alan Watts for one), most of us believe nobody is.. nobody's the Son of God around here.. we're all just.. what?

Not God.. that's a popular book too, (in the circles of Alcoholics Anonymous), but let's go back to the idea I am a terrible person doing despicable things all day, as there is some disagreement about this too. If anything reigns supreme in the world it is disagreement.. and agreement.. entire "moral," codes are constructed because of this, but it takes an Einstein to decode them.. or a Jesus.

I am giving polyester socks a test along with the marijuana smoking and I am hoping to receive more favorable results.  I have been so anti-synthetic all along, (probably the result of being fed so many Flintstone Vitamins as a kid), and have begun to bend on the issue of "fake or real," leaning toward the fake.. and this should make at least one of my friends happy; I'll stop being such a dick.

Curiously, it's mainly women who think I am terrible and psychotic; most men have no problem with anything I say or do, provided I'm not burning holes in their car seats or anything of that like.. and certainly the women don't want this either.. rather, the women will say, "you're not terrible even though you are," men will of course say the same thing.. but what that means to both is very very different.

Well, the day is about to begin. I don't want to go. I don't want to participate and cannot remember wanting to participate. There were a few activities along the way that I enjoyed, (baseball, chess, fishing.. wait.. not fishing so much.. I enjoyed catching a fish.. etc. etc. etc.).. but there doesn't seem to be an activity now that I can imagine doing in such a way as to go do it.

I do have one "commitment," today but certainly can get out of it. This brings us to the necessity of having "caregivers," and receiving care, to giving care and not giving a shit.. which quickly moves us to caring too much.. and then what exactly it is we care about.. who decides what we are to care about, give care to, rather, and what needs us to not give a fuck about it?

Basic life this is.. Yoda? Where is the little green man-thing to tell us what to care about? Some film director thinks it's a good idea to project some "marvel comic" (slash) Bible good-and-evil scheme miles and miles and miles into the future.. forever.. the invisible forces.. in and out of control.. and of course, magic powers.. we can't leave out the incredible magic powers.

If we are left then with having to choose between the "lesser of two evils," we should remember only one of them is a permanent solution and the other temporary, but that one doesn't make the problem worse.. for one.. and the real question that needs to be asked is which is less of a real mess to clean up for someone else.. I mean, we don't want to just be thinking of ourself all the time.

As the idea of the open journal, (might as well be writing a suicide note), piece of Art to the world evolved it occurred to me I'd better limit my communication to men and boys only since the burning question in all of life is "who can comprehend a woman?" And I should "qualify," my psychosis in that matter by saying I was traumatized as a boy but luckily not enough to be Chris Watts.

The mechanisms of the lie are the same however for all men.. and here most generally the woman is again excused. In the case of our building a story in our heads and then letting it out of our mouths.. well.. as long as it resides in the mind there's no problem at all.. as soon as the hands and the mouth get involved there's no real telling how the story is going to end.

Probably this makes the lie so exciting and titillating.. addicting even.. the consequences of telling the truth, telling on yourself, (or someone else), might not be as up in the air, but certainly are not going to be the denouement the liar is aiming at. And this is of course the heart of the matter.. how to get what we want and want what we get.

But there is a third option to the drug use or suicide dilemma, the "monastic life." This seems drastic. Cutting oneself off from the opposite sex altogether is seen as worse than psychotic, or much the same thing.. so how is it going to be seen as different to the guy that decides to do it? He is going to have to ignore the general opinion or accepted judgment.

There's no way to prove whether or not all women are born liars.. (it's a line in TWO MULES FOR SISTER SARAH.. best western of all time).. but there is one thing no woman will ever have to decide to be and that's a "man of truth, honor, integrity.." etc. not against every other man on the planet.. but I won't say the best of them is still a "hillary-clinton," (if we'd rather see a liar in the white house).

I think what I've found of the difference between "objectivity," and "indifference," (apathy), is objectivity still hurts, and hurts deeply. 

IF YOU LOOK REALLY CLOSE
11 December 2024

^{NICOLE FIRST COLOR}

I could look at it all night.. if there was ever any joy to painting, it is the girl on canvas. She is.. something.. she is and she is. Oh, what a joy to look.. (at my painting), oh that this came out of my hand.. I'd say "damn 'Islam,'" and all her like.. I will paint until the day I die.

And I don't need anyone's assurance at all that this is a thing worth doing.. I sit for hours staring at the.. "work of my hands?" It is why I have been able to let nothing go.. I cannot bear to part with it.. I cannot be alone.. and this is the only thing I know.

Oh, we quip and compy, and do all the necessary things. But I and the ghosts have other places to go.  Yes we give a nod to you but what is that to you? This girl has no reverence.. but is she laughing is she laughing.. only the most intimate will know.

If you look real close she is not scared or sad; she has acquired her own answer to it and wouldn't you like to have THAT? In cheap Viridian we do her eyes not. She smolders in the distance. I always see her now glaring at me; if you let me down I will kill you. It is the heart of the child.

And so we flick around with the background for a moment.. we hope that our fakery should never come to light. We are thinking we must let the painting paint itself; what is she thinking, what is she looking at. what is she going to be doing in a moment?

For now we have the harsh compliments of Christmas boxing her in, and no one can really fuck with me right now. The only green-eyed girl I've ever loved; what do we make of her?