FROM THE GHOSTS AND MY SELF MYSELF

TO THE WORLD

A NEW INTRODUCTION AS OF 18 DECEMBER 2023

WE ARE GOING TO GO AROUND here on the "men-of-good-faith," principle.. of gift-giving, as best we can, meaning we like the idea of giving all the Art we create and publish in the PORTFOLIO away completely for free, (as it is more than anything a jyoke around our neck, all possession, and though it can be argued that by giving away our possessions we are inviting others to "take up our yoke," we hope it's not that at all.. we hope rather it is just more we have to deal with paradox all day long.. we might get used to it), meaning, anybody that wants to copy and republish or even sell anything he finds here is more than welcomed to and he'll get no big "American-Justice," backlash thing from us about it; we like the idea that anyone wishing to support us and this website might send us a gift.. we like the idea of being happy to send original Art work to anybody that asks for it because we really believe what we are saying around here.. and we will pay the postage and shipping costs if we've got the money; if we don't have the money we will ask for it.  Just ask and find out.

_{(original introduction appears at bottom)}

ANOTHER INTRODUCTION! 

^{(as of 1 April 2025)
("HOORAH," I know.. but bear with me a minute)} 

FROM EVERY MYSTICAL SOURCE we've been able to get our hands on we hear 2025 is going to be an extremely significant year for all of mankind. We certainly hope so, but of all the things I've had to "give up," in the quest for self-mastery, I think "magic thinking," is the hardest of all; it got me through childhood.. a rather long, extended childhood.. so that the idea of a "second," childhood doesn't exactly thrill me; the first one has not concluded itself. To say we "despaired," of ever seeing maturity is a profound understatement few will relate to because most people stuck in childhood die young; a few become "great artists," for a minute or so but the vast majority die the worst anonymous deaths.. (behind dumpsters, in "shooting galleries," jumping off bridges.. etcetera etcetera), and nobody.. of any relevance to all relevant people knows their name, short of a mention in the newspaper. There's no big candle-lighted "vigils," or mass-mourning for these poor slobs.. but who knows, maybe 2025 will be significant for these folks as well. As for my own "journey," into maturity.. I have too many people to "thank," (for keeping me alive so long), and I'm not being sardonic about it, especially if the "fiddler," is still waiting on his pay. And that's the topic of today's meditation; what and to whom I "owe." I mean, in terms of "opportunities," good fortune, luck.. or whatever.. my basic survival needs have been met so far but I'm not entirely certain I am "grateful," enough.. I think about the coming last few minutes of life and wonder how that's going to feel.

BECAUSE PEOPLE ARE GHOSTS ALREADY
some of us are still alive is all and don't know it
ask any mother except the sociopathic one and she'll tell you her child is a "little angel"

TWO HORSES, STUCK IN REHABILITATION, AND WHAT I LOVE ABOUT NICKY NICOLE
^{Wednesday 2 April 2025}

We don't really know what to call "rehabilitation," in the in the big search for "something better." I suppose, individually, if I was at all "grateful," for something it would be the fact I could never stand to see any living being in pain, and I'd recoil now from any reference to a "creature," because that word suggests a "creator," but what are our alternatives.. "organism," (way too "scientific"), "animal?" People might not have the time to look into the dilemma, or even consider it one; what are we to call things? Necessity forced "recovery," (from "alcoholism"), on to me; I was never a "functional," drinker.. and this brings another word into the equation, "disability," or more specifically, "disabled," as that applies to the animal. I was soft. And for those whose present moment is one or another sphere of "Hell," there's really not a lot to be done, (from the outside), and what's a shame, (on "mankind"), is he fails to recognize what "work," is required of him in his present moment; he is either somewhere in the past or future and this has been pointed out so often it's become like background noise.. there's all sorts of good "advice," concerning the breaking of bad habits.. there's wisdom under every stone.. and yet looking out on the world, "my country," my family and friends.. is rather stifling, and confusing, depressing.. (disappointing?).. and we are all "brought up," being told exactly how things are "supposed," to be. And all anybody can really say about anything is, "really?"

I'm pretty well done with "American Culture," (speedboats and leaf blower.. noise).. I can't eat the fish I catch out of the water.. our food is so fucking polluted it's not worth talking about.. kids are just getting sicker and sicker, younger and younger.. and every day I walk down the street watching people get dragged down the sidewalk by the leash tied to their goddamned dog, (their best friend?!!), I mean, if we are looking for evidence we are pretty fuckin sad.. it's the pet-craze.. (their new job is to be your "companion," which pretty much says, "fuck people").. but nobody wants to go to puppy school, or thinks they need to. That's our glorious "America." And I really do feel for the kids; my only hope is I'll be long gone before things really heat up.. the closer and closer we get to suffering "third world conditions," around here. We put a convicted felon in the "White House?" Fucking, "white man," goodbye.. you're going away.. you can't see it.. but it's already happening. You did a fucking shabby job when you had all that power.. but the earth is saying "fuck you."

About the two horses? It's a story I was told once when I was involved with the Christian "rehabilitationists." One horse lived on a farm and the other on a hill.. one was fenced in, the other free to roam.. and the horse on the hill wondered about the horse on the farm, tied to one or another cart, or plow.. dragging it back and forth across the fields.. 
But then one day, right around "Christmas," the horse on the hill looked down on the farm horse and saw it had been decorated with lights and bells and every sort of jingle-jangle, pulling a cart of cheering people.. and was.. jealous? Well, that's how that story ended, and I though.. "goodbye Christians." I'm supposed to buy into this horseshit?

Stuck in rehabilitation? All we can say is the impetus to change a bad habit must come from within, never without.

 Which brings us to Nicky Nicole, (Spin).. and that's the easiest love of all.. she will never be domesticated either. 

APRIL FOOL
^{Tuesday 1 April 2025}

A VERY SERIOUS NOTE to my friends is what I have in mind to give. I still think I have friends in spite of being for all intents and purposes completely alienated from them all, (due to my drunkenness); my friends are all "drug addicts," or "alcoholics," (an "identity," I thoroughly reject), in one or another phase of "recovery," which is a funny word to me because the author of the famous "Twelve Steps," had something he wanted desperately to recover, (to get back), whereas I do not; I would not re-live one day of my life, and thankfully, I don't have to, but there is a great irony and puzzle about all that, as I've chosen to do precisely that, driven by impulse.. (only on the other side of the coin).. I've gone back to drinking after long periods of "sobriety," more times than I can count.. and find myself once again pretty much where I am today, all in an effort to go back and re-experience a day that was, well, better than this one. 

Which puts my mind back to one of the prophets of the Old Testament, (Judeo-Christian), bible.. whichever one. He asked the people, "why do you long for old days?" (basically saying, I think, they were no different than the present; you probably didn't want to be there either). 

EACH DAY NEW AND YOU ARE THE ONLY YOU
^{Sunday 30 March 2025}

JUTE CANDLE WICKS BURN SOOTY and there'll be "hell to pay," the "fiddler." It's not some ominous warning I'm coming out, (again), with.. it's just a reality I've picked up in the whole "domestication," process.. it came down to a choice between buying candle wicks and making my own from the material on hand. "Cotton," (the video said), was the most common thread used in candle wick making.. "usually treated with a flame-retardant solution," (paraphrase but a good one). I know rope was made of hemp, and jute isn't far from that.. but I can look it up. Jute must be some younger brother to Hemp. Whatever the case, this receding winter and birth of a new year forced me to study candle making. One, in the event of power outage and two, because it takes cigarette smoke out of the air.. (a flame); it was that or open the door every time I wanted a smoke.. or we.. (we can't leave the ghosts out of this chapter of things). If a "metaphor," pops up I'll use it, but right now the learning process was a bunch of failure not worth going into. But I will say something for the Jute wicks, they're the only wicks I've encountered that I have to continually trim down; most I have to dump the wet wax off to keep them burning. And we can't leave Nicky Nicole out of the thing.. I mean, if you really underneath it all want to "de-rail," your domestication, Nicky's your girl. 

Raw survival, however, cannot be ignored, the over ALL impulse to survive will over-ride the desire to be "loving," every time. This is what the mystics call "the dark side," of things, (the "unconscious," or "instinctual").. it's the same as saying that in a war between all that is rational, and "superstition," (?).. superstition will win the day.. or the moment anyway.. reflex will take over...
But what I think most people miss is the notion we are all one "organism," or "body," (if you want to go back to "Saint Paul's," writings), and one body, individual, reacts in his place.. in harmony, (when you're on the same side.. which should be looked into).. meaning one guy will rush to give CPR, another will call 911, etc. etc.. one will scream hysterics and alert the old folks.. one will just stand there and watch.. and this means simply that if we all did the same thing, we all fought to give CPR.. or we all just stood and watched.. the only thing we'd be good for is the ARMY. Uniform. Same. One purpose.. (complete the list).. and "moving on one purpose," is worth looking into, but we don't want to lose our flow. We most recently heard an interesting definition of "anarchy," (each man ruling his self, and this applies to woman too maybe; we never know).. and the ideal of the "socialist," (the man who wants to see humanity/civilization, "work").. "as it should," ('don't "should," on me').. and we can't go into the suppositions or speculations war is "inevitable;" we just don't have that kind of time. 

My girlfriend told me it's pointless to separate the "recyclables," from the garbage..

"They all go to the landfill anyway," (she has a friend that was a "garbageman," we used to call them.. a "refuse custodian," is closer to the mark).

What a conundrum.. I mean, why waste time washing out recyclable fucking plastic bullshit, (now there we might find a metaphor). You know, I did hear a good "sermon," once, the message being the notion that the "Old Testament," was a physical.. um.. something, while the "New Testament," was the "spiritual," equivalent. I might think it's the other way around.. like, all that fantasy-mixed-with-reality was what really "created," the physical mess we are now going through on the face of the earth. Or they go back and fourth, like "AC current," ("alternating current"), and this might be a bit of physics worth teaching the young.. the difference between "AC," and "DC," electricity.. so we will.

Direct Current electricity, (DC), was the first source of "power," run through wires out to the small man's house. It allowed the home to be lighted by artificial light bulbs.. replacing the flame.. (of candle or "gas"). Advertised as "safer," of course, but it required "grounding," (some sporadic return of the current to its source.. through the ground.. (not at all like the water returns to the sky).. the power company. DC current was produced at the power plant, pumped to your house, and returned through the ground, (a return wire hooked to a metal stake in the ground).. as we "harness," the heat of lightening.. making it useful.. I mean, things have gotten an unfathomable amount more complicated than that, but these basic principles only allow it; the harnessing of electricity has ushered in the digital fiction of the today. 

AC current is our answer to the problems of DC current. "Alternating," current flows back and forth, like a vibration, or a "frequency." That's a word the kids are using now.. (in the words of David Spade.. "look into it").

I need to finish up with "thank god for the Irish side of my family, and the German, and the English even," but I'd "rank," them in that order.

I think the individual has to "push back," against the "group," as hard as the group is pushing on him.. or this back-and-forth.. plays itself out.. and oh yeah, I remember now what I was going to close on.. John Fox, (might have been "Jon"). At the opening of the student show, (1986?), CCFL.. somebody asked John if he thought I knew how good I was, because I took 1st place in the "drawing," category. John said "yeah, he knows." I'd like to think it was Tom Insalacco, that asked the question, but what I liked about John Fox was he was so fucking sure of himself.. I mean.. to a point you had to hate the guy.. so smooth.. so unaffected.. or maybe totally affected so there was no resistance.. John did me a huge favor, I suppose, grade wise, but I wouldn't go into that unless somebody asked. John was sure I knew how good I was, or skilled, rather, I'd say, how "in control," of my hands I was. I'd been told all my life how "grateful," I should be for this.. "anomaly?" Hearing how much so many people wished they could do what I can.. more over what seemed "effortless," to me.. (?).. not to be a 90210 town crier.. yeah, but I truly hated being "better," than anyone else as much as I hated being "beaten," in a contest. Hense the "disconnect," (a good friend coined that term, which has been here all along).. I threw more than a few games of chess to my older brother.. and more importantly, didn't make it obvious. The monkey hierarchy so glorified.. well.. I wrote something about it someplace else. 

Nicky Nicole is still here. Seeped so deep into everything in sight; I wander the rooms.. hahaha.. (so cliche.. as if country music had a purpose).. "would you like an extra heap of porridge, son.." Sir.. please more.. (?). And I won't ask, "who's loading the plate?" 

If every day has to be my "last will and testament," I'd trust Nicky to split the "fortune," with my son and his mother, "equitably.." he's not going to want to be sent a set of keys to have to come all the way up here to clean the place out.. Nicky's a gift-giver.. especially of small, meaningless, things.. little things old ladies never throw away.. you'll find it all at a barn sale up close to the lake.. pick through a box.. (hahaha).. give the box your full attention for a minute.. (un-loofa-ed, unshaven).. expect some fear.. those old photos will shake you up pretty good sometimes. She'll give him the "lion's share," (one of the most superstitious girls I've ever encountered).. so that's that. 

So that's that. 

GOOD QUESTION... JESUS
^{Saturday 13 April 2024}

ANYBODY ASKING US FOR ANY GOOD questions?  Jesus asked a lot of good questions and we don't know if we do.

Does "mood altering," amount to "life changing?"  Go someplace else and ask your questions.  We want to know because of the ungodly amount of things that get shoved in our face every day that are mood altering.. lots and lots of people are mood altering.. we like playing with some toys because that can be mood altering for a minute.. and maybe that's it.. maybe mood is life and life is mood.. since a mood pretty much defines the here and now.  Yeah yeah yeah.. mood-life.. life-mood.. who gives a shit.

PLAYING TO THE FAN BASE
^{Wednesday 10 April 2024}

WE KNOW THE TWO THINGS our fan base loves the most, one being the use of the great "we," when we talk; whether it be the sense of inclusion or just the superior tone, they love when we say "we this," dot dot dot," and "we that," dot dot dot, in every instance, never varying, and it doesn't matter that they have it completely wrong in that we are referring to the ghosts and me, which makes them just another ghost, or perhaps they have it spot on and don't like the idea of just being a ghost in my particular head.. we will never know and will not ever have the capacity to care too much as this is our reality.  

The other thing they love is when we talk about Jesus.

Keeping it moving, we are about to embark on a new journey here at KLANGORSCRAWLER and are quite excited about it; we are going to switch to fiction writing in the form of opinion but on a higher plane because this is the only sure "truth," we have been able to discern as existing in the big bowl of American fuck-fuck.. for real; it seems to us that the minute a man understands that the only reason the rest of the animal kindom is not systematically killing its self, or wanting to, or living in quiet or outloud riotous desperation and putting up with it, is because they live in fiction and are quite satisfied to, unable to perceive of any realistic alternative.

Yes, that's quite a lot to swallow but we know our fan base is very sophisticated and would be disappointed with being asked to swallow less of a load than our all every drop; we know they know we give all and are sure of it for the simple fact that a man is less likely to get away with faking an orgasm than a woman is.  We will not claim to have solved, or even shed light on the gender identity "crisis," other than to point out the fictitious nature of "crisis," of any kind, and the deeper "truth," being, once a man discovers the fact that "reality," is nothing more than one or another competing fiction, he is able to begin living in reality for the first time free of doubt.

Having our mind blown is another issue.  Is there anything we liked more than those moments of mind-blowing... what?

And we've been that guy.. the one that brings the awe to the party.. the one that makes things go silent.. I mean, to not be too observably "un-humble," about it because it's nothing we really asked for, created, or wanted very much to do with, (in and beyond those moments).. if we asked our self which was better, to blow or be blown.. or as Bill Wilson calls it, getting "rocketed," into some fourth dimension of something.. the mind.. or "existence," or as Dereck Zoolander would conclude, "whatever;" only whatever in a Valley-Girl accent because society is largely just the Valley-Girl that can't do math and we are the one guy that can give her the blessed "ah-ha," moment like nobody's business.. the "ah-ha," when you see the excessive math clearly.

It's a rather powerful position to be in and this creates just enough jealousy among the monkeys to insure the hierarchy of monkey life will never go away.. meaning we will always be right here where we are and there's nothing to fear.. we're not going to be knocked off the hill in any real way but only as a fiction in someone else's mind, which we all know is not real for real.. I mean, if anything is unreal around here it is what's going on in somebody else's head; nothing really becomes real until that guy goes home and loads his weapons, comes back and starts blowing away in way that go bang bang.. gang.. we think things get real for real then but this is still just a fiction in somebody's mind.. our own.. which is unreal enough without that guy thank you.. oh my god this is so confusing...

We might ask our self why do our fictions threaten not only us but the imaginary planet no one has ever seen except the astronaut among us, or on TV, and even then is doubtful.. why is it only our fictions that threaten the fictions of all the other animals alive.. and yeah yeah yeah, like there's a difference between "conscious," and "unconscious," fiction.. come on; give us a break.. because we're not going to ask our self any of that.. we are just going to appreciate being the guy that taught the girl math for a minute and leave it at that.

It is because we know that "justice," is just jealousy with lipstick.  It's because we never had a big problem with anyone complaining they got fucked by God very much, like the virgin Mary.. who is reported to not have been altogether wild about the experience.. luckily nobody has felt any need to make us care really bad enough about injustices to the virgin Maries that can't do math.. enough to rally our support for their cause since we never had any money, beyond a small allowance, we picked teaching Mary math as our own issue.. in terms of the odds of her getting fucked by God were much greater than anyone ever anticipated from the beginning of time until now.. and onward of course until the end of it.  We are quite happy that our ridiculous search for "truth," is concluded.  It was here all along.

***

OH YEAH MY GIRLFRIEND COMPLAINS I AM always referencing the Chris Watts case and she can't figure it out so we decided to make it easy for her.. it's just bad drama..  I mean.. "all my broken pieces," (for real?).. in terms of the whole "true crime," venue being the only real life thing that fits into the good-drama formula.. (containing all the elements of the dramatic Art, the "hero," the "conflict," etc.etc.).. the most endearing are the most tragic, the timeless classics have no fast and final denouement.. everybody loves a good mystery.. the only disturbing part, or most disturbing thing, was she admitted Chris was physically attractive.. if anybody really wants to analyze how disturbing that really is for me.. we end up dragging Chris Watts into the thing of the day simply because it's really poor true crime.. of the caliber of the Twin Flame Universe Cult.. like any idiot can get away with it.. that's how dumbed down we've become, to our lowest possible common denominator.. which is probably why everybody really hates democracy in its real form and prefers the made in the U.S.A. brand.. like the "my daddy is a hero," song couldn't have used a girl that can actually sing to really get all the heartstrings involved.. it's because I couldn't cry.  Oh, it had it's moments.. largely swallowed up by the underlying MLMMLM thing but still almost there.. like the NXIVM guy, (really?).. the smartest guy in the world according to the Kalamazoo version of the Guiness Book of World Records.. can we get a shot of this guy for Playgirl Magazine:

^{KEITH RANIERE IN THE PRISON BEFORE THE PRISON
screenshot}

..and now it's in your face.. I mean.. holy mother fucks.. if anybody notices the painted metal futon except me.. this guy existed in America.. America create him and countless replicas.. low grade Walmart cereal bowls.. but Chris Watts tops them all for "cringe," clips and bad audio.. that somehow makes it to cult status.. and we know our girl understands already.. she actually shares the same complaint.. is there something we can join?  I mean really.. is there anybody around here who genuinely inspires me to want to follow him around?  And who knows?  Maybe Keith could have done that for me.. (at least until I saw this photo).. he had the actual dalai lama over to a rented sort of banquet hall photo shoot thing and gave him money.. you gotta admit that took some imagination.. hiding in a closet just like what's his name only a bigger closet because Keith was a little pudgy.. I seem to remember Charles Manson squeezing into a kitchen cupboard or something.. on the neverland ranch.. like Svengali.. like a little bitch.. he's so soft and sensitive.. it's all just creepier than fuck.. and then there's Roy Cohn.. an actual lawyer to an actual president.. which really only enculturates the timeless permanence of the thing.. it's never going away.. and she got all mad I couldn't distinguish Malcolm McDougald from what's his name.. Caligula.. there was three of them that were all the same guy.. Jeremy Irons.. somebody.. and somebody.. I'm going to have to ask her.. I think America is getting the Roddy McDowall of the whole scene.. the McDoAll.. but we're satisfied with cheesefood.. like it's almost cringy.. only mindblowing because it's not.. and it's not the actual penis women envy.. it's more like Saint Paul said, "angels are jealous of people," (what?).. and all that's left to ask is "where is that caliber of literature anymore?"  I mean, come on boys.. if we are responsible for filling the douchebag head with evil ideas.. jealousy be damned! (I say).

TO LOVE
^{Monday 8 April 2024}

What is the opposite of "disdain?"  That's what I want to feel.

IN THE MEANTIME
^{addendum to Sunday 7 April}

In the Golden Mean time.. yeah yeah yeah, we're waiting for the weather to begin to cooperate, and then open up the studio.. see if we can't really get this crafters' cult humming along.. or at least out of the gate.  You see the big difference between me and David Koresh is I actually graduated from Teen Challenge and he did not.  Yes, I left three times and went back twice.. but.. my punishment for leaving was I had to write out all the red letter words in the bible.. turns out to be the greatest exercise ever endured.. and yes, the story is much more complicated than that.. nothing we're going to hold everyone's attention to sit through.. (me and the ghosts of all them stars).. 

Because there are good cults, some that become actual cultures.. one happened right her in Upstate New York not too long ago, in fact, we still eat off the silverware these people made.. (they are all ghosts now too).. the whole thing could be seen as something of a small branch shooting out of the big root of the Catholic Tree.. (anybody interested can Google "ONEIDA SILVERWARE" -or press the link).. the corporation still boasts of "170 years of service," or something.  Yeah good old Dave Koresh and me got Teen Challenge in common, only the red letters turned him into a whackjob and me.. well, the red letters just convinced me I was not a Christian and.. praise the lord for that.

-we felt the need to add this piece because we used to hear that word "meantime," all the time and don't seem to hear it much anymore, and we're a little curious, as we are about all words, what exactly that means.. "the mean time."  Everybody knows.. it means, "stop talking and get to work.. like when the boss says; "yeah, yeah, yeah, thanks for that but in the meantime do you think you can earn your paycheck, or just get out of my face with your nonsense speculations and hopes and dreams, maybe sweep the floor."  It's a good lesson when considering the definition of the "Golden Mean," also, as being the exact center, stay there, in the here and now, poised to go in either direction.

Otherwise:

CHEMISTRY
^{Sunday 7 April 2024}

WELL WE CURED POLIO ANYWAY.. well, not me.. (every time we say the word "well," we think of Ronald Reagan).  

Anybody who is not one-sided is going to experience a bit of conflict.  I mean, when you're the kid that doesn't particularly like Jello and you don't know why.. is it the lack of substance?  That's probably too sophisticated for the young mind to want anything to do with.  Again, if there is a place that has no "down side," shut up and go there.  And we've all heard that there is such a place, called "Heaven."  

So, go, go, quick.  Oh, wait, you can't.  Suicide is not allowed.. well, go be a freedom fighter someplace then, those guys aren't expected to live long.  I mean, if we all gotta do something we believe in.. 

Well, we can't have that.. we got too much of it already all over the place.  If it means killing somebody or worse, a big ton of people.. that kind of thing doesn't even really appeal to a monkey, mostly.. but all this chest banging.. let's get down to some real action.

And I'll tell you, all this talking about the "here and now," is making the here and now a little tedious and unappealing.  We were really hoping that just talking randomly in unconnected blather would illustrate something useful, or "illuminate," is a better word.. like the babbling of a child.. beautiful but not altogether exploitable.  

Maybe "my enemies eat at my table with me," is a good thing, or meant to be praise-jesus-like in a really sophisticated way only nobody gets it.. maybe if David and Goliath had just gone out for a hamburger..  or an orange mocha frappuccino.. maybe they would have discovered they were more alike than different.  But does anybody want to sit down and eat with Goliath.. (besides his mother)?

All anybody really needs is a proper bedtime story.. something equal to the projected long cold night just ahead.

***

"I'M ALL FOR BETTER LIVING through chemistry," the woman said.  We're saying this because we've been really upset about pollution the past few days.  It will pass.  She didn't want to hear about the down side.  But it didn't end there.  We had to endure that whole "get-the-asshole-on-our-side," thing going back and forth between us until we were both so entirely sick of each other that there we no way we were going to like, strap up, and go hand in hand out there to clean up the chemical spills.. or even one of them; we weren't even going to walk on the other side of the street down to the market and buy some detox tea to try and fix the chemical spill inside of us.  I think hers was worse than mine.. so.. 

***

GO TREAT YOUR SELF TO A BIG FAT RED LETTER DAY comes to mind.. but you have to commit it to memory.. 

Sorry, there was just too much to see here and we certainly don't want to infringe on anybody's property rights.. (we really can't stand how we've been trained to think.. we'd rather have the theme song from Kaptain Kangaroo playing in our head all day as sung by Mr. Green Jeans).. 

It's really all just an exercise in trying to be spontaneous again.. as according to our own chemistry.. as applied to the big screen, you know, when the lead couple has no "chemistry," and basically suck together.. this is basically how we are with our self now.. ju-ust the two of us on the big screen.. Martha and George.. but there's an up side to hearing the down side first.. I mean, if you meet somebody it's better to hate them but not kill them because everything can only go up after that.

WHEN IS THIS GODDAMNED THING GOING TO GROW UP ANYWAY?
^{Saturday 6 April 2024}

CHESTNUT TREE
^{copy and paste screenshot and link to video}

WE WERE ASKING WHAT a chestnut tree might want, if it wants at all, more than anything in the world.. to get out of the wind maybe.. to not get hacked down like a calf and sold for veal-chipboard-shit furniture.. oh, brave little chestnut tree.

We don't "love," like we used to love.. and most notably, "falling in love," is an impossibility.. thank god.. we don't need to post our little chestnut tree getting blown on Facebook.. in my little here and now she is equal to me and I her.. since we're not seeing any penis swinging from her trunk.. but when she gets fat enough we're going to cut her down and carve her brittle little spine into a gun.. then go down to Walmart and shout, "bang bang bang."  Yeah.. that's what we're going to do.. 

Follow me!

PURPOSE THE DAMNED ECLIPSE
^{Thursday 4 April 2024}

THEN RE-PURPOSE THE FUCKING thing.. purpose the prophet.. the dunce.. the horror and the Saint.. purpose your self.

These morning meditations we figure ought to have a purpose if we are hoping to drum up a following-around.. if the only place we wanted to take somebody else was to the here and now.. (a "don't-make-me-go-alone").. personal industry being only as good as the person.

"Purpose," unfortunately, can only ever be about the future projections and we were wondering if the projected eclipse Monday would be like any other thing we have already seen on TV, only not as good.

PICK A SIDE

^{EVERYONE AND NO ONE
web copy and paste link to DaVinci skull}

We gotta wonder what the little naked kids in the squatting jungle are imagining and making of the sticks and stones they find lying on the ground when the adults tell them to "go outside and play;" we made guns and generals, my brother's and I, (now ghosts), then.  

We can jump on the happy, "don't-let-anybody-decide-your-purpose," thing.. go dig up some support on facebook.

All I want to do is show my kid the good things about being old, by demonstration and not a bunch of talk; the only thing talking is good for is expressing your here and now to me.  He's not going to want to get old if everything is layered out for him.. I remember doing my income taxes the first time sitting at the kitchen table with big Dad pointing out what had to be written in all the little boxed, feeling like.. (no words for it and if there were they wouldn't have been allowed out at the time).. I was expected to be happy getting all this money that was withheld from me back.. minus a fairly hefty chunk that was going to be re-purposed by some entity, (my "representative").. but who understands all these words when he is 16?  

Only later, when all the years in the imaginary bank are spent.. there's no more purposing or re-purposing of the time sitting there waiting for me to use it.. no more shiny bobble to buy and show off.. I'd like my boy to see in me the fact that there is something worth his while here, even in this shit hole culture that would rather argue about cleaning up its fucking messes than do it.

We can go in to the whole thing about making the kids clean up after themselves but it's difficult to separate what is theirs from what is ours now.. it's all one big Dow Chemical Spill in my mind.. go to the stock car races and get hammered you fucking blind hillbilly space suit looking freak.. what are you gonna wear those clown clothes to your daughters wedding.. paste it all up on facebook.. what am I going to go say that on facebook?  Nobody gives a fuck about your here and now.. or the eclipse.. or the prophet.. we don't even think of how purposeless an eclipse really is.. what is it good for.. 

We heard the scientists say it's good for studying the atmosphere of "our Sun," and hoopty-dupety-fucking-doo.. 

Well.. the three-headed frogs probably won't give a flying fuck about all the scrolls and monuments we leave behind...

What's good about old age?  You don't have to go outside and play anymore.. plenty of treasure right here inside.

But just to say we see and we saw.. the "market," needs to be about what we got to trade in hand here and now today.. not speculations of what we will have tomorrow.. people are so curious about what they will have clutching their little "Venus," statuette.. (children like the grains of sand).. which is a big chemical spill.. in the ground.. in the air.. in the water.. in the kids.. and the most motivated purposing people are just making more.  Hey.. "see.. saw.." that's pretty interesting.. on the seesaw.  

But you don't have to go outside and play in it.

FEEDING THE FIVE THOUSANDS
^{Wednesday 3 April 2024}

WE ALL END UP TRADING WHAT WE GOT amongst our selves.  This is how the big miracle of the fishes and loaves was explained in a rational way, leaving the magic super unnatural power aside and wondering if it is possible for such a thing to happen.. an old nun told us that everybody carried a lunch around with them, at all times, enough to feed themselves and their children, (for the day).. and when the mighty disciples started passing out what little they had the rest did the same.

This seems the most plausible explanation for such an outlandish tale, why anyone would want to repeat such bullshit.. "because it really happened!"

So, it's very likely we are all going to end up sharing what we got with the next guy, whatever is not in a bank somewhere locked away and unreachable.. whatever we got on us at the time.. (so, don't come around here with your little plastic card).

The little plastic card means you don't have anything to give a beggar.. and what a relief is that, all that debate in the head about what to do about this.. being.  We still like the story of THE KING THE MICE AND THE CHEESE written and illustrated by two nobodies.. as far as we know it's the only book they ever created.  Our mom suffered us asking her to read it to us every day for a short period of time way back when.. 

Tough to determine or divide up what Jesus said from the bullshit and manipulative horrors.. fear is such a lazy way to get over on people.. you know we watched some Morgan Freeman thing on something yesterday and it struck us as just such perfect little snippets of horseshit all collected together.. in a series.. three hours of this thing.. it was when the Russian girl came on we couldn't figure out if it was just some hollywood accent she was putting on.. -our question was, "how real was the famous cold war, now that it's back?" (or never left).  Maybe it is the U.S.A. sucking big Russian/Jewish cock after all.. putting it all on video, (the new opiate of the people).

Is the kingdom of heaven really at hand?

WHAT IS THIS A DEBATE
^{Tuesday 2 April 2024}

WE'VE NOTICED A TENDENCY IN MAN to hate having errors pointed out.  This is rather fascinating and ironic since it can only lead to improvement.  Maybe what's happening in the "how-to-run-the-world," crisis is nobody really knows what the fuck they are talking about.

SO JEALOUS
^{Monday 1 April 2024}

YOU WILL NOT LOVE anyone more than me because.. yes, that's right, "I am a jealous God."

The wonderful and terrible, awesome and invisible, never-ending horror...  such are the fictions between us a magic place.

Yesterday didn't go very far in the end; we wanted to demonstrate how demanding your kids only say good things will put them in the hands of them who say bad.. (we have absolutely no qualms about blaming parents when their kids hang out with morons).. we have to hold it in so long.. (this is "hell").. if anybody is still wondering where all the "bloodlust," comes from.. probably it is them; they couldn't stand to hear whining and whimpering.. and this outside is soooooo much better.. all these ads for something better in your face all day.

What people don't understand is this is how the dog was domesticated.. by OUT breeding.. (ridding the community of all individuals who display adult features).. only the adults are allowed to say bad things.

And we all know this hypocrisy.. go down to the bar and cry, Mack...

It's like we are so fucking jealous of the next generation we'd rather wreck the earth than like, "hand it over," to them.

Like it's fucking ours to give.

They all turn around and come back, they all come out of the desert, off the mountain.. all bringing the same message: "I am so much greater than you," and so much "better," you should listen to me; the laborer is worth his wage; there's nothing bigger, brighter, or shinier.. than me.. I am actually glowing with the radiance of.. (un-namable).. my beard turned white.. everyone can see it.. 

Look.. we'd say, if the TWIN FLAMES CULT guy can do it there is something fucking wrong.. I mean, listen to me, Splash Dance, if you want to live forever...

***

BUT IT'S TRUE YOU CAN'T KILL this God.. he is the proverbial "thing that wouldn't leave."  

Our question is. "why do the they all come back," to tell us about this magic place they've found.. if the kids really "manifest," their world, why are they still in this one.. harkening us.. well, they say it is us calling our self out of hell.. (or something).. and they all say the same thing, "come with me, crabby man."  Send us your tired, your lonely, your unwanted, muddled masses, and we will.. wait.. don't.  Awaken the advertiser in your self.. the advertisement you are.. look in the real mirror.. read your self.. watch and listen and look at how much you really want to be you.. pity the next asshole that has to be him.. have mercy on us.. toys don't last forever, (fuck-toys especially).. 

MY PUNK SONG
^{Sunday 31 March 2024}

OH I LOVE THIS THING and I love that thing, a big red barn and a big fuzzy horse.. I love the sky and I love the grass.. I love the oh I don't love that; let's go!  Oh.. I love this thing and I love that thing, a little warm puppy and a shiny new bike.. I love ...

.... you can only comment on what you love around here.. like breeding puppies, -any adult behavior gets exterminated.

I ALREADY KNOW
^{Saturday 30 March 2024}

NOBODY IS GOING TO BELIEVE yesterday's insistence that peace equals unrest.. and to come back today and say we are defending logic.. yeah, everybody's gone.  But it's Saturday so, who cares?

I mean, the bullshit of people is so fucking thick, it's difficult to believe that we will achieve even our 50% due good.. which isn't even up to us.. it's like the bounce-back, we could say, is all the "proof," of "God," we need.. I asked a friend of mine yesterday, "what am I doing wrong," and the response was "go fine inner peace; it is there," and I thought.. "fuck that."  This same friend used to say "go in peace," with me in the most mocking, derisive tone at each other.. basically, now that this friend has found inner peace there is not even enough time to actually answer my fucking question.. 

I think it's a fucking ruse, in other words.. I don't think world peace is a good idea.. as a goal, I mean.. so fuck it.

Fighting for logic, it seems to me the real "find peace," meaning is I'm not allowed to point out this friend's flaws.  Even if I had a real heart to "help," another person.. I was asking to have my faults pointed out by a friend.. and the friend said "no."

Hocus Pocus will always insist you need to put logic in the toilet and take a king kong sized crap on it.. well.. fuck that.

***

PROBABLY YOU JUST HAVE TO LIVE long enough to see just enough stars fall out of the sky to really know you're not coming back.. you'll see that being here is the same as not being here, there won't be a need of your leaving or staying.. you begin to see that Billy Joel had to be a complete asshole, spiteful and bitterly hating of everything and everyone around him in order to create all these wonderful stories of "love," and brilliance and cleverness.. he's just amazing...

TAKE ANY OPTION
^{Friday 29 March 2024}

EARLIER WE WERE THINKING that being the "author," of one's "self," produces a book that needs never be written.  This fits with all beauty that needs never be seen, like watching a mime and not being able to identify one thing he is imitating; you are either going to begin to feel that he is an idiot or you are.. and the beauty would be that either way it is the same.  

Probably science will one day prove it is the fear of being an idiot that makes us all so proud that we are not, meaning the mime simply is really bad at being a mime, or not, (if he is imitating the book he wrote of his self).  This is why all screeching monkeys sound the same.

More understandable, perhaps, is the problem of making a very difficult decision, one that carries with it the possibility of threatening our very survival.. we've listed the famous "pros and cons," or rather, we don't need to; we already know that a perfect analysis of the choices will produce perfectly equal lists.. that any projected gain will by nature drag an equally dismal loss with it.. (if we are perfectly honest about it).. and we know we've lost the anti-perfection-club members already, which is pretty much everybody, except that we know, even more perfectly, that underneath every anti-perfectionist, is a fully aware and active perfectionist, just waiting to pounce; just think of imperfection as being the perfect answer to perfectionism.. so that when anybody is a bit put off of the fact you trigger some feeling of "less-than-ism," in them, their choices are to blame you for doing it to them or themselves, righteously, correcting you..

And we can take that one level worse.. to the idea that it really doesn't matter the motivation behind making you see things more perfectly.. or completely perfectly, if imperfection is perfection.. (as "God," made it.. and a perfect being cannot produce an imperfect work.. like Jesus).. why improve?  (that is our question in the matter; if you are trying to improve, you are inadvertently shooting for perfection.. or, more likely, just trying to make me a little better).. or as my father used to say, "it is six of the one and a half-dozen of the other."

What is more important to consider is the risk involved, or possibly the cost, and how great it really is; if it is so great as to threaten the very life of the man.. that's got to be at least a little more invigorating than spending a couple dollars on a scratch-off lottery ticket.. the "gamble," or the flinging of care to the wind.. 

We can't really speak for women but from the evidence we've analyzed we figure a man wants his son to have a better time of life than he did until he actually sees it happening.. you know, for the cameras it's always.. "all I wanted was to make it so my boy could go to college," and at the dinner table it's, "don't be a smart guy."

Anyway, we're convinced a man ought to trust the universe and trust his self, trust his self and trust the universe.

That would be the end of the story if we didn't see a need to get everybody to slow down on the road.. or give them a notion there would be a greater reward for doing so; we know nobody wants to do anything that is not their idea or that they can't have at least a little finger in the thing.. otherwise they would just be a famous "cog," in the wheel, and there is no fame in that, only non-existence while existing.. holy christ.. even a child any older than two has to say "no," until you beat it out of him.. or, "hey, what do you think of green instead of..." -oh, shut the fuck up now, blue or nothing.. it's always been blue.. it was created blue by "God," and perfection doesn't need you and your silly dreaming up a way to make it better.. (if anybody is interested in perceiving the true root of anti-perfectionism.. it's anti-me.. which is a paradox the lazy brain prefers to explode over).  I want you to do more but please do less than me.

A tree is as good as its "parent," and all anybody can do to make it grow is nothing.. what we can do to turn it into a twisted jagged mess is wash our car in the yard.. or what we can do to make it a weak and frail shell of a tree is keep it inside, in a pot, in a window.

Fix me, fix the environment, with Paxil.. and don't think about the synergisms created in all of our water supply.. that's pure "communism," and poopy.. it's "doom and gloom," negativity.. in the air.. all you can do is fix yourself.. and believe everybody else is going to do the same thing.. as soon as the last generation gets exterminated.. it doesn't seem to be working if only the great-grandfathers are dying off in a contemporary fashion.. we don't know who exactly is going to be around to enjoy the environment, maybe the Fourth Richt.. we don't know at all.. if the many "Gods," haven't been able to do anything about very much of anything.. "pollution," wise.. all the mombo-jombo talk.. as if I can come with something so negative as to destroy the whole universe.. just ruin somebody's day.. it's fucking hysterical.. you know the Facebook wars.. let me find just the right positive affirmation.. 

What am I supposed to bring somebody around to the proper conclusive feeling around here?  Something I said threatened your very existence?  And it's not that WE have lost the thread of the conversation.. our mind is perfectly good with the conclusions already put to bed and fast asleep.  It's six of one and a half-dozen of the other.  Because we did a proper "pro and con," thing, we weighed every possible outcome of our decision, we know that sitting on the couch watching TV and jerking off isn't going to bring any tigers to the door.. police.. neighbors.. anybody.. okay, so, inviting Medusa to the party.. you know, pick your decision.. go spend five dollars on a scratch-off lottery ticket.. spend a hundred.. do nothing.. the pain will always equal the pleasure.. probably the only unalterable law in the universe.. if there's a choice, which again, there doesn't seem to be one.. and no real difference which comes first.. the universe is going to be "fuck you, I gotta balance my self."  

Following one's heart will probably add up to the same thing as following some no-risk douchebag's heart.. in the hard analysis of the thing.. looking back.. yeah, we won the demolition derby.. you know, that day on the Pisstain County Fair Grounds, twenty and twenty-four.. oh.. you should've seen your dad that day.. dancing and spraying some malt liquor around like nobody was watching.. getting kissed by Miss Pisstain of 2024.. he didn't even have to think about how much that bottle cost anybody.. holding that trophy over his head.. the boys from the brewery all put him up on their shoulders and carried him back to the assembly line.. all so you can go to college.. except you don't know how to have fun.. you kids.

But we got a dream too.. we dream about getting into your dream and beating you up and your girl has been so manhandled her whole life she mops up your bloody nose and looks crossly up at us.. she's in her underpants instead of you in the dream.. you know, there's some Dirty Harry talk, a Karate Kid thing.. my dad comes roaring up in a demolition derby car and beats up your dad.. the Ferris Wheel stops, somehow, me and your girl got on there and are kissing as the fireworks light up the sky.. then your boyhood dog comes back to life.. nothing real but somehow you accept it is happening.. Cheryl Ladd appears.. she says this has got to be a dream.. can somebody pinch me.. we need the super-strength Terminator hand.. "my arms are numb..."

There's just so much to choose from..

^{WHEN THEY WERE STILL CALLED INDIANS
youtube screenshot and link}

WELL IT WAS THIS OR THE JACKSON FIVE selling ALPHA-BITS.. you kids, I'll tell you, at your age we had three channels.. and we couldn't decide anything of importance.. what is there now?  61.1 MILLION channels on YouTube alone.. I don't know how anybody is going to know they picked the right one.. 

Let's go right to the source of the thing.

LAZINESS IS THE LAZIEST OBJECTION OF ALL so.. we'd say protesting knowledge is the wisest thing in the world to do.
^{Wednesday 27 March 2024}

OF ALL THE THINGS WE HAVE TO PICK out to hate about someone.. second only to hating.. building a proper ghost in the head rather to balance the thing; it is what used to be called, "building-a-better-mousetrap," and it is wise in that once this is accomplished, everyone can stop arguing about it for a little while, the mice are caught and nobody can say anything about anything anymore, or feels any need to.

It is probably the most natural good thing in a body to protest knowledge and this awareness is only gained by being sick to death of knowledge and the fight against it; we were trying to talk to the greater half upon waking and this is a stupid time to try and impart a lesson onto a creature that hates knowledge.. if we are at all concerned with people growing stupider and stupider, more fanciful a superfluous, ever more psychotic, (due to the nature of neurosis).. nationally, of course.. everything is certainly about national this and that.. the unformed mind in its perfect state believes it is doing everything on its own.. the infant's being alone and by itself causes the mother to feed it.. and so, logically, it is dear old dad the only-slightly-necessary ingredient in the inception of the thing, that feels the need to protest this dumb formula of life.

Knowledge only creates greater and therefore lesser knowledge.. but this is not true; it is ridicule that makes the schemeographicology of the thing ridiculous.  It is a great irony that the only way to keep from getting caught in a mousetrap is figuring out how to build a better one.. and who is going to protest such a thing as a better mousetrap?  He'd have to be an idiot.  All this can be seen in phrases like, "don't try and figure it out," or better still, "you don't have to figure everything out by yourself," or even better still, "what are you, trying to be Jesus?"  

In our book, Jesus created a "Father," to rule the ghosts that waged war in his mind all the live long day.. silencing all.

There's your better mousetrap, we'd say.

REASONS TO BE GREAT
^{Tuesday 26 March 2024}

WE LIKE THE STORY of the mouse.. or the rabbit, rather.. or whatever rodent it was that was big enough to ferry the snake across the water.. he was leery to do the thing until the snake promised to not bite him when they got to the other side, but then proceeded to bite him anyway, saying, "well, you knew I was a snake when you agreed to give me the ride."  To us it means, "keep the red flag in your pocket."

Abraham's Pocket is a nice concept of where we go when we die.. the secret pocket you sew into the inner breast of your coat, where you keep your most precious thing, hidden.. where nobody can find it and steal it away from you.. there is such a thing.. we go to Abraham's Pocket to await the "savior," and to be "resurrected," and to be "reborn," and to live again.. forever and ever.. Amen.. (meaning, "sure truth").

Never having to doubt again seems like it would be a great place to live a while.. but we need to fill the boy with inspiration, (or "in-spirit-u-al-i-za-tion").. we need to fill his heart up with courage against all fear.. make him bold.. say the right words.. that in the face of the long cold dead night he should not faulter, fall, cower, or flee.. he must walk away from us and these words believing it is him doing the speaking.

All along.

Why else would there be such a silly war in the world ever waged between trust and doubt.. Trust and Doubt went out walking together one day.. it is a bible-worthy book.. already in you.. 

Why else would any man scrawl out his life on a rock if the absolute deepest despair was not conquerable?  

What else could be worth conquering; of these men who are passing away, and lo.. already dead and gone?

Is it such a wonder that the first story every to be written down was that of a king and his journey on earth?

***

WHY BE GREAT AT ALL?  It is a question to be asked before setting out to be great.. why build a bridge at all.. why conquer the self?  Why make plaster casts of dead men's faces?  Why boil and sterilize and paint up and make pretty the skulls of your Great Grandparents?  Why display anything on a mantle, -to be but badges and ribbons and dust in a bucket.. and all idolized.. 

Suffer me, boy, a quick lesson in how to learn something about words:

Mantle vs. Mantel
Keeping mantel and mantle straight is relatively simple. "MANTEL," in modern English largely does one job: it refers to the shelf above a fireplace; you can remember it by thinking of the "el" in both mantel and shelf. "MANTLE," on the other hand, does many jobs, including a number that are technical or scientific. Its most common uses are to refer to a literal cloak, mostly of the kind worn in days of yore ("she drew her mantle tighter"), and to a figurative cloak symbolizing authority or importance ("taking on the mantle of the museum's directorship"). It also refers to a general covering in literary uses like "wet earth covered in a mantle of leaves" or "a past shrouded in a mantle of secrecy." And it's also the term for the middle layer of the Earth between the crust and the inner core.
There is, however, a catch to these distinctions: mantle is sometimes used (especially in American English) to refer to the shelf above a fireplace as well—that is, as a synonym of mantel.
This isn't terribly surprising, given the histories of the words. They both derive from the Latin word mantellum, which refers both to a cloak and to a beam or stone supporting the masonry above a fireplace. The words came into use in English a couple centuries apart, but were for a time in the past nothing more than spelling variants.
While it's certainly simpler to use mantle in all cases, mantel is significantly more common as the choice for the shelf, which means it's the safer choice in those cases.

Significant to understand is the phrase, (above), "they both derive from the Latin word mantellum, which refers both to a cloak and to a beam or stone supporting the masonry above a fireplace," as this is the nature of all words in their use both as references to the "material," and the "non-material," at the same time.

Significant to the story of greatness is the notion that Sarah nagged Abraham until he drove poor Hagar from their home.. sent her out into the desert to die a pretty miserable death, and so the conflict rages on ever after.. and the big blah-blah.. ever after still.. over the supposed "promised land," the milk and honey.. and all the very greatness of "God," well.. (someplace else), we'd say, since this world is an ever-growing garbage heap.. we'd say if there is such a being it probably wishes now that it hadn't found any favor with Noah at all and simply let them all drown.. like it wanted in the first place.. but now has to watch the foolishness for another couple of thousand years.. the ever growing nonsense.. stories.. foolishness and strife.. ever greater and greater still.

And where is this "cloak," and this wing this shadow of "the LORD," and savior; of what is it made?  What is a "lord of hosts," and where is he to be found.. why a "he," at all and not an "it?"  But more and more than all of that, why the big story Richard?

The answer would be, well.. if Jesus insisted of himself that "one greater than Solomon," was there.. and further, if anyone had listened to Moses they should know him already.. (if they had "believed," and trusted).. we can conclude, certainly by now, one "greater than Jesus," should have come around and given us another chapter or two.. a little carrot to chase.. something to make all this all worth while..

And if it surely is in fact this "God," that decides precisely who that man should be.. of the wretches alike.. the rabble.. (do you think you are not?).. what are we stupid to think that Moses danced the slaves out of Egypt? (you can watch that story on Netflix).  

But why do YOU want to tell your stupid story at an A.A. meeting?

***

BUT FOR THE SAKE OF irony, and fuck-fuck, and paracox, and hoopety dupedy fucking doo.. for all the real joy of heart.

Because you can keep the red flag in your pocket, and you can know it was a snake when you picked it up and walked it across the water.. you can conquer your self and chose your face in plaster and in death.. and for all the world to marvel and wonder.. 

All that can be said of a man at the end is that he was not a woman and he was not a child.. let all Israel whore.. 

To every Ceasar his "et tu Brute," and every David his enemies eating his food.. every Kennedy his Hoover.. and every Trump his yet to be..
It is because we know we are sitting at a table somewhere right now in despair and dread, alone and so so cold.. the air so filled now with words that are not even words, but invisible waves, they pass right through you, and through all of them, imperceptible.. so that it is just a buzz growing louder and louder like an approaching swarm of locusts.. until no one should hear anything.. 

We say it because alcoholism made self-trust impossible.. we give our scant last resource away for free.. (no whording now).. but casting our bread onto the waters.. to see.. where and who and when and what and how.. and most of all why.. is the great man?

For every only son.. let the women and children go fight the dogs over scraps in the desert of worms and all fire ever after.. and be neither.

GREAT ART
^{Sunday 24 March 2024}

^{THE PARKINGLOT NUT
cellphone photo}

ON HER WAY TO TOPPLING THE GREAT city is Art and our little Parkinglot Nut.. mindless.. hopeless.. dreamless weed.. 

NO WORK SATURDAY
^{Saturday 23 March 2024}

WE DON'T KNOW EXACTLY HOW many words are contained in Deuteronomy, Numbers, Leviticus, and all the rest of the books of "Law," that, to us, bog the whole thing down and push any reading of the Old Testament way way way beyond "tedious."  And then there's the books of Kings, and Chronacles.. one was good, one was bad.. the next one was bad.. then good again.. so that the whole "false idol," teaching gets thrown away with the alternating chill and scalding bath water.. we consider most of it bored man.  Meaning, like "college," in that, we took about three or four things out of college, in terms of "rules," to apply to "Art Creation," we seem to like the idea that writing directions is for people who don't really want to do the thing.

We like using "rule," as a noun way more than a verb too.  Okay, that's about it; "meditate amongst yourselves."

WE TOOK YESTERDAY DOWN
^{Friday 22 March 2024}

AS IS QUITE RIGHT we buckled to peer pressure.  It's all along believed to be a bad thing, peer pressure.. we don't know; you decide.  Rather, get away from it if you can.. living "off the land," is like finding a hole in a dump now:

_{IS WIKIPEDIA BULLSHIT NOW LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE OR WHAT}
^screenshot

You gotta figure the black bear is the omega dog of the lot and intelligence is only good if you're ruthless and immoral.  Put some of these fuckers in your suburban hideaway.. Homo Erectus.  Are you fucking kidding me?

Fix yourself up a website and you'll quickly learn who your real friends are.. but you still can never know how they really feel about you on facebook.. we took yesterday "down," and what a silly way to look at expression, we think.. to feel about it.. to consider it.. and to ultimately edit it out of existence.  So, we are going to put it back up.

If "God," is a "person," or a in the class of "separate beings," (like us), then we'd say the industrial corporation is not your friend, the financial corporation is Satan Himself, and you're just too goddamned stupid to be ruthless and immoral, unethical and smart with your money; you're too goddamned sentimental to get on with life and way way way too cowardly to make a real go of it.  This coming on the heels of watching a piece about ESCAPING THE TWIN FLAME UNIVERSE on some Netflix borrowed thing.. this fucking guy Jeff Whatever and his girl Megan Hateshername, gotta be the lamest cult leaders we've ever been given the gift of getting to look at.. I mean, holy jesus fucking christ.. it's like any quirky dildo head with no conscience can make a fortune around here.. and which ones of the dipshits in the audience are going to get all concerned and moved and made misty by the crying of the dupes involved, or enraged by the injustice?  Don't ask us.. all we can tell you about any of it is old Ursamalia, (above), ain't gonna give a flying motherfuck about any of it.

We want to know what good is all this talk of "God," when there's all this sucking of cock in our face all fucking day?

And for anybody who is still confused, the black bear is the cocksucker of bears.. and isn't that ironic Unis, (or whatever the fuck your name is)?  -that the worst of the bears is black too.. like things would be different if blacks were ever on top.. if the things that kept that genus of man, or whatever the division is, "on the bottom," (I don't know, maybe it was morals), prevented ruthlessness and envy and underhanded secret back room cock-sucking.. all I can say is I remember one black dude way back in 1983 said I was more black than most of his black friends.. I heard a black professor say that the real problem inherent in slavery was the fact that only the worst of the litter survive it.. and I remember my mom laughing once.

So I am going to re-publish yesterday.. I was feeling a little mean and fucked up after expressing myself yesterday and decided it might not be better to un-publish what I felt like letting out that minute.. I felt like, let me edit out the ass of the thing.. in case another friend stopped in to see me, or god forbid my son got his hands on the thing.. 

You see, my son is the only thing on the earth that's important to me now.. as an object or construct in my mind.. in this blessed community of morons and cowards.. as if intelligence is granted by some magic force and you don't have to work at all to get it; you don't have to concentrate and block a whole lot of shit out.. you can just watch TV and it will come.. you can live without having to get off you fucking couch and really wreck somebody's day with your hypocrisy.. oh yeah, who's our favorite monkey-studier, the weird guy with the beard, no, not the copy-cat beard, or the stubble, or the manscaped face.. what's his name, the baboon guy.. says watching baboons it occurred to him that all anyone in the baboon community wanted to do all day was make his closest neighbor on the hierarchy happy or sad.. which meant he was either abusing the one below or cocksucking the one above.. (the females we don't know about and are rather irrlelevant to the hate in us).. he said roughly, "the main pursuit in the group, split up individually, was ruining someone's day."

I'll tell you, I'd like to pick the "U.S.A." curriculum for a day.. in the learning institution of the fucking shit.. just one day.

***

SO HERE IS YESTERDAY anyway.. because if we can't give up giving a fuck we figure there's no point in quitting anything:

(no subject)

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SHOOTING OFF AT THE MOUTH LARGELY

Thursday 21 March 2024THERE WAS JUST SOMETHING WRONG with Ronald Reagan:

If it should turn out the whole Jimmy Carter thing was just a bad chapter in the long history of all costumed and painted up public tax-financed professional wrestling.. would there be some "justice," to be done.. and when exactly and to whom?  If there was just something wrong and very wrong all along it's got to be because something was right and very right and possibly right all night long.. (just because it rhymes).. but old George the Wordsmithe couldn't understand why people believed he was just some miserable old man in the end, such an "unhappy," man.. just because nobody ever saw him happy.. (even the ghosts and me, except for on stage.. he seemed like he was "in his element," when the people laughed).  And it occurred to us, it became a "truth," early on, that no one will see you "do the right thing," because if they did it would no longer be the real thing.. we knew the whole christian story was about doing the right thing no matter what and not some horseshit about going into any "paradise," after you die.. anybody can live on dreams and fantasies of paradise and peace.. only for most it seems that involves some sort of "Hell," (for the people we hate), and ultimately us.. when the whole thing goes puff.. because it always does and you're always alone when it happens.. there's always some jackass shooting off his mouth somewhere in the world.. there's no end to getting all caught up in someone.. fucking all night. We recall pretty well Bobby shooting off his stupid mouth about John Kennedy.. "Kennedy just inherited what Eisenhower started," he said one day, all full of confidence and spite; we can't recall what prompted the fierce defensive attack, it wasn't something out of our mouth, we didn't know John Kennedy from a hole in our head.. but we remember those exact words.. and we have to wonder now exactly how much Bobby really knew about John Kennedy.. at the time he was a pot-smoking moron about to drop out of high school and inherit everything my father worked for.. (by proxy of course.. he'd get access to the "capital-credit," of the property, along with the rest of the cunt-spawn and disease that infected my father's home).. because his mother left his real shit-bag father and married mine.. all we could do was watch and hurt and wonder who in the fucking world John fucking Kennedy was.. but now we know.. we know Bobby was two years old when the big american fantasy hero-face got his brains blown out of his head.. and he picked up his big defense speech by proxy too.. from some other douche bag war hero uncle.. (he's got to be dead now too.. along with all of them).. the mother's favored boy.. "deserving," or not.We have learned to "breathe out," the last of the bitterness and rage.. nobody is going to see that.. or has to.We just knew all along in the deepest part of us that something was very wrong and that everyone was lying about what it was, and we spent the lifetime trying to sort out what that was exactly.. someone should be made sorry was the point, we suppose; it's not a very flattering truth but a truth nevertheless.  We were wrong all along.. but too stubborn..And we could go back into George's story and find out who took his most precious thing away from him.. go dig the villain up.. breathe life back into him.. and make him sorry.. but there's only one truth worth saying; George doesn't give a fuck about any of it now.  He's not feeling cheated or sorry or hateful or enraged about anything right now.. and never again..And we wonder why schools and churches get shot up, as if we expect gratitude.. ney sheep.. demand it.. in a big frenzied cry for justice.. ney and brey.. all together now.. hee haw.. hee haw.. and teach all to be contemptuous of the body.. No one is going to see your good deed.. not the best of it.. and this is why God was invented.. for the justice factor..You would have really have had to have been out there alone to know.. with no place to go.. no one to see.. no plan..Just you and the cold approaching night.. it's always cold.. you can ask anyone who has actually been there and they will say that.. it is always cold at night.. always bitter and sleepless, shivering, horror.. it's so chilling the words just stop in the throat.. the mind cannot endure it.. And there is ever the want to leave this slavery of the body.. this ridiculous cage.. it needs "another," so badly.. inventing an ever worsening and more ridiculous fiction about its self.. (possibly to cover the embarrassment of the one just passed).. zombies and vampires and wolf men.. frankensteins and mr. hydes and mary popins.. the cat in the hat.. but above all these the john kennedys.. 

(no subject)

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***

THE JUSTICE SYSTEM REALLY DIDN'T KNOW what to do about, or with, Ricky RayRay.. and neither did he.  It wasn't the worst Christmas Eve ever to be recorded in history the first time me walked away.. it was a fairly mild night but thick and damp from melting snow and fog hung in the air, or clung to, or sunk into, everything.  Indoors, in his father's home, things were warm and bright but just a little bit too much so for Ricky, and in a swirling sort of mist he put some things in a pack and walked out the door.  What he was thinking that night is forever lost to time.. there will never be any retrieving it.. there will only be a repeat one day.. in some other boy's mind.. we know because migration is a fact.. it's a cold hard thing that never gave a flying shit how people feel about it.. it's an unstoppable wind.. and who can say anything against the wind?  Only the great sphynx one could suppose, or the great rock of the glorious west should have anything bad to say about wind.  Ricky wasn't feeling it.. and that's become a fad phrase of late.. but when it really meant what it meant he wasn't feeling the wind or the fog or the weight of his boots or the soaked feet stuck in them.. some other atmosphere had sunk so deep into him that every other air out there bounced off.. at least for a while.. Had they driven him off on purpose?  We could ask this now.. of the people enjoying the warmth and light in his father's house.. did they drive him away on purpose.. and what would be the purpose of doing such a thing.. that would be too much like the new news of the 21st century.. skipping the better part of the fact and taking the listener straight to the end without having to really tell it.  We don't want to be like that, not even one of us..He had to go and everybody knew it, the father had said it and nobody had any authority to deny that voice.. oh.. there were underhanded closet whisperings and plottings.. secret stories of what was to come.. but none of that would come to bear in any real or material fruit until the old man was gone.. and not just the old man but the old man and his sons had to be gone.. and what really is the mean time in the end.. it was never there.  The sons can feel it in the air.  The poison and the chewing in the walls.. the munching on the air of all mouth and promise.. the sucking and slurping on cock.. and who can bear it?  What sort of animal can bear it?  No.. the son much go.. and go now.. and it is never a "go-to-Tahiti-to-paint," sort of plan.. it is just a walking out the door to get away from the noise of secret sucking.. it is a "fuck you," of substance but to the whisperers and the cocksuckers it is a good victory.. but even this is too much like new news.. what we say for Ricky's revenge.. that's our only part in this thing; you didn't get the real story.And what was the justice system to do with Ricky?  One could really ask what can any justice system do with God?  What are they going to do with a boy that says, "you cannot make me do what you do; you cannot turn me into you;" what can a justice system do but feel its own impotence.. and where does the ravenous crowd go after the hangings?   Home to wait and grow hungry again.. back home to the warmth and the light and the listening to the slurping in the walls.. 

^{FUCK YESTERDAY
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***

FOR MATTHEW WE KNOW THERE IS JUST SO MUCH anybody can take of somebody else's rage and rant.. and it's pretty useless going about saying I more or less re-live my mother's falling apart out in every other relationship I've ever had on the earth.. no matter how true it is.. and I remember clearly feeling just so desperate, or being made to feel desperate and impotent by her crying.. (I can suppose my dad felt the same way).. and it won't matter if the kids understand.. if we understood.. all I ever wanted to see was her get her fucking shit together.. I remember her crying about not being able to be this or that for us.. and I suppose that's just a woman's thing that can't be understood by a man; a man is not a woman and a father is not a mother.. (this is no time to get into gender-swapping except we should learn to play fair in the market.. to use true weights.. and honor contracts).. anyway.. I tried to tell her I didn't care if it was her wish to be the worst pig and slut of the universe.. go fucking do it.. be it.. and this is a really rather pointless declaration now.. we don't even know the point.. all we know for sure is intention is only good if you're not fucking neurotic.. you know how they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.. so.. good intentions are at least good.. but live like you got nothing to lose before you got nothing to lose.. make a country song out of it.. create a cult of no talent.. (un-fucking-believable).. watch TV and jerk off all day.. what is this, good advice time?

Make yourself laugh and find the people who can do that for themselves.. if you're lost remember, nobody's going anywhere good anyway; they only want you to think so.. on the monkey ladder.. 

BECAUSE IT WAS
^{Wednesday 20 March 2024}

LET'S NOT LET IT BE overwhelming to us.. just because it is.. as we imagine clasping hands all across the globe all hoping to come up with the perfect chant.. or slogan.. let it be.. "it is what it is!" 

How depressing.. (hahaha lol lmao and bm).. a thought can be.. we shouldn't want the thing too heavy or too light or too old or too new.. we won't like it too red or too green, and never never never too black or too white.. it could be we should never know what to say or how loud, how soft.. but what of the day that no one can say more.. or less.. anything at all.. how glorious.. to just stop talking..

But.. (of course).. lots and lots and lots of people we imagine will vote for the "Serentiy Prayer," (just not the whole thing, rather, just the A.A. portion).. we're certain a bunch of us will want to ask what would Jesus do.. and we might not want to plan too far in advance of the thing if we don't want a shooter in the crowd.. maybe just give him time to shove a Daringer in his sock..

What do we say what do we say what do we say.. should it all be left to vote or to king's decree.. let me see..

I and the ghosts think it should be, "stop hogging all the story time.. you big naked beast, -cock all out and everything!"

Never consider too much we can see thing is turning into.. know when to shut up.. that's the thing about the glorious "greeks," and their little band of flying monkeys, the romans.. cock all out everywhere.. Jesus.. it was such a nice thought until that grumbling table full of ghosts took their turn to speak.. if there was a point to pointing out everything is nice most generally until the cock makes its appearance.. if we can imagine the raging christians chiseling the cocks off all those naked statues.. forcing Michaelangelo to put some clothes on the angels.. if nakedness is really such a horror.. "He gave them skins of.. (?).. with which to cover themselves," thank God.. and we recall the big hubbub about it all.. the long sermon.. they were saying this was the first animal sacrifice of all time when good old God.. let's see.. what did dear old Dad do every time we tried to do something.. scoffed.. I mean, how did that work, exactly?  Did God have his own leather tanning thing going on?  Or did the bloody skins arrive by lightening bolt?  ("here, dry these up and put them on, and throw those fig leaves away, you fucking retard").. 

Oh.. are we getting angry?  Poo poo pooshy shmooshy booshy mooshy boo boo bee bee bay bee?  Mooshy mooshy moo?

Maybe that's the thing we should all say when clasping hands all across the earth and gazing rapturously into the sky..

But this is too much like something somebody else said a long long long long time ago.. and oh my fucking god, I just thought, what if it's true.. what if after all the cock fuck, (what is it now, "PSSD," -post serotonin-reuptake-kill-them-all), I mean, if we gotta always have a cock in view we want it to be as numbed as Jesus.. what if after about seventy or eighty different variations of this pill got distributed to hundreds of thousands of retards.. after all those dead genital experiments.. it turns out all anybody had to do was eat some mushrooms.. 

We certainly can't have a cure for depression around here.. maybe the cock never wanted to be here in the first place.. there's no reason to manipulate the functionability of the thing.. maybe we should chant, "eugenics can't die!" or "what good is a statue anyway!" or "cock fights over Olympics!"  

Ah.. the good old mushroom.. and we know exactly what we are going to say; it's going to be "we told you so."

WE SPENT THE MORNING
^{Tuesday 19 March 2024}

WRITING A LETTER TO JAN:

rraycroft7@gmail.com
19 March 2024

Dear Jan,

This seems cold and detached, this typing, but.. I  DON’T KNOW IF THIS ISN’T WORSE.  It is certainly easier to write, and probably to read as well, so.. but I’m not entirely sure the printer has enough ink to print a copy and I might end up writing it all out again anyway.  

Mainly just like you to email me or call again, there’s some things I’d like to discuss with you.  

I know you don’t want regular contact.  With Matthew pretty well grown there doesn’t seem a lot of need for it.  I don’t expect him to want regular contact.  

Christmas turned into a big eBay teapot search, meaning I wound up buying a few that I really have no use for.  Two of them are cast iron, three are ceramic.. not certain you would want me to send them to you.  One is a medium sized  kettle more like.  One is broken.  There’s still a handful of those things I’d like to buy at some point but, not until I go back to work, (couldn’t do the code blue shelter thing again, that just was too physically and mentally damaging, no matter how good the money was).

This month’s was the twelfth rent payment I’ve made on this place.  Probably not a big accomplishment in anybody else’s history, anybody my age.. but it’s all new territory for me.  It’s been about two and a half years since I had a drink, (I’d really kind of like one right now, which is funny, I rarely think of it and feel like the whole matter is more or less decided), maybe if I was dying for real or made it to 70; I’ve said pretty much, if by 70 I’m not changed in any significant way I’m going to check out anyway and I’m not going out sober.  I mean, I’ve heard people talk about what a thing dying sober is but.. their own hero founder of A.A. was asking for whiskey when his time came, which, in my mind casts some suspicion on the legitimacy of his whole “spiritual awakening,” claims.. but of course, who says enlightenment can’t include a little drunkenness here and there.. I just know I don’t want it again and I never want to want it again.

Anyway, I put off sending you a teapot until April, or the middle of March at least, as that seems more of a sensible “New Years,” than any other time of year.  Really wish I hadn’t amassed as many felonies as I did, I could move the f— out of this country altogether.  Probably some backwater, (third world), spot wouldn’t care if I showed up, but, getting on a plane might be difficult all by itself.. plus I am pretty lazy as usual.  I’ve got no real passion to “make Art,” of any kind, really, any desire to do so has only ever been to clear up some bad reputation, some nasty incident, some relation.. basically being a big shot in the world.. or not such a little one more like.. I’m not convinced this thing isn’t all about anyone’s place on the big hierarchy of status pyramid.. and who your two nearest neighbors are.. that might be a good topic for the day’s “meditation,” fucking “blog,” thing I publish on the website; I go in and out of feeling like that thing is any worthwhile endeaver.. this being my usual writing hour, more or less, I might just copy and paste this thing over there.. As this fits the theme of that thing.  Meaning, if there really is a way to measure the “quality,” of any man’s “sobriety,” or “maturity,” or “growth,” or anything of value at all about him it would be about his relation to his oldest connections, I think; there is some thought to keeping a more accurate record of any “transformation,” you know, (from the worm to the butterfly, the grub to the flying beetle.. the larva to the etc. etc. etc.).. from a jack to a king.. something not written long after the fact.. with bells and whistles and all the rough edges all smoothened out and non-existent.. still like what George Carlin said about self-help books.. unless you’re writing one yourself, (it’s probably not going to help that much).. but that gets all confusing and we don’t want that with you.

In the end I’d suppose “identity,” of any kind is probably going to be a bad thing, or at least unwanted.. I can’t think of one good reason anybody ever asked for an I.D.  I mean, it’s not going to get a date rolling on any good foot.. Darling, can I see some I.D. please.. I can’t remember one incidence of producing an I.D. card that made me feel like I had an identity I wanted.. and it’s probably better if the real story of me only ever lives in my own head anyway.. since there’s got to be some other papers attached to the thing, somewhere.. if we want the real story of the psychopath across the table, that little card is going to be much help.. but that’s the real “profile,” and, you’d suppose, any expected end of the evening.. (can you please bring a background check?).  In the end, “identity,” is of no use at all.. at least not to the person in question.. I don't so much wish to know who I am much anymore.. but I might do better knowing who you are.

Only, the Alan Watts thing has been done, (the “spiritual entertainer,” -as the man has identified himself on occasion).. I’d rather not be a second-hand copy.  All I want is a little good energy again.  But what was that when I was with you?  “Mania?”  I’d take it right about now.  Not for your sake, of course.  I’d love to hear you laugh though..  (give me the big “lol”).. I’ll tell you, what kills me about the whole new “consciousness,” fad is the fact that what they don’t want is to live “unconscious,” anymore.. what?   I mean, the irony is lost.  At least as they are describing it in words.. unconsciousness is absolutely what everybody wants.. and is the very definition of “being one with God.” -if there is no more “self,” to have to listen or answer to.. You’d think if anybody could actually get there they wouldn’t remember the thing.. or the time spent there.. if there was any legitimacy to it.  

No.  I think what people really want to get away from is somebody else telling their story.. hogging all the time.. which brings “possessions,” into the thing.. somebody wasting my time.. with them.. (usually as they used to be).. unless I want to be them for a minute..  which would work.. if I didn’t have to go and be somebody else in a little while.. then me again.

I’ll just say it again and go.. women are so much better at being somebody else than men give them credit for.. matter of fact, we don’t give them credit at all and just the opposite, we batter and ram; I think we are so jealous and want to be them that they then become that, us, at least for a while, and then quick to realize, fuck that.

Ah, but for sweet maturity, alas… 

Love, of course,
Rick

THE HEMINGWAY THING
^{Monday 18 March 2024}

IMAGINING THE WORST sort of "Hell," (for Ernest), would have been "waking up," on the deathbed to the awareness he had not even lived.. this came from Guido the English teacher.. who doubled as a "gym," teacher.. as the ironies grew; we are wondering if any of the flowers of the earth were ever named "Ironies."  He taught also "psychology," or and introduction to psychology.. the ghosts and I were the only boy in the class of nine or ten.. what would be a paradise today.. (we can only guess at a woman's ghosts).. it is an important psychological concept that has not quite caught on to the point of simplification or utilization as to make it quite useful.. high school was such a bust and a torment.. and in reality would have had to ascend another ten notches or so to become a horror.. except for Guido the English/Psychology/Fiz-Ed teacher.. and the girls who loved those things too.. and the ghosts.. since they are all ghosts now.

It is rather what we alone might have gathered from Mr. Guido, this foolish idea that a man can live without living.. or die without being born.. or waking up.. and we are happy it's become a big "movement," now that the only real movement we care about is a bowel one.. which is relevant.. the very bowels of hell and belly.. the very depths.. (reference THE SHORT HAPPY LIFE OF FRANCIS MACOMBER).. to have had literature so broken down and made beautiful.. meaningful.. alive.. and splattered on the walls.. (the "writing" and the brains).. so beautiful and clear for just a moment.. and then gone forever.. because we cannot go on babbling and remain void of some notion someone thinks something of us the way a child does not exist but in the eyes of the parent and can only wish to "find favor," in those eyes.. if that's not the real cost of the rod.. to eat our own children in a way so unimaginably grotesque that science can't even look at it.. 

It is at any rate a "haunting," notion.. given all the evidence laying about in favor of your existence.. (e.g. dirty diapers and polaroids).. there is the notion against.. 

But we would not "feed the wrong dog," here any more than necessary.. imagining Hell.. we are not here to give an English lesson on American Literature.. if there is such a thing.. we would like to be a good ghost.. a useful friend.. to fill a boy's head with all sorts of nonsense such as this great Hemingway Thing.. (the eventual blowing the brains out no matter how many charging buffalo we can manage to shoot down in the heat of real "moment," -to become "momentous," ever after.. -we might look up that word to see that we are using it precisely).. 

PLEASE DON'T LET ME WAKE FROM THE COMA
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It is a notion and a phantom, (I would tell my son), nonsense and alcoholic delusion.. don't listen to a word of it.

The real question might, "did he pull the trigger sober?"  Did even Ernest Hemingway have not the will to act alone?

A good tree has no use for shooting buffalo.. maturity can not "fail," a man.. (Ernest never made it out of high school)...

ANOTHER INTRODUCTION
^{Sunday 17 March 2024}

IF THERE SHOULD BE ANY POINT to the Klangorskrawler.. crawling and scrawling through the clangors.. bells and alarm..

Well.. a man is not a woman.. we can say that for sure.. it might be the only thing we can say for sure, as a "conclusion to the matter;" we can always argue with Solomon and the rest.. and baby-bear-things are always just right.. sexless and screaming little useless creature.. it's just so cute you want to eat it up.. we are wondering if Caitlyn Jenner wants its cock back.. (not certain of pronouns anymore we will go with the object as an object):

MORE TRASH
^{websearch screenshot w/out link}

It's like the "Kardashian family biographer," as a thing, is not fulfilling enough.. or simply that gossip is gold.. gold you can feel in your cock.. being a cop isn't enough.. we gotta leak.. and it goes on and on down the line.. right down to the lowly Klangorscrawler.. if "success," has a formula it would be centered in controlling the need for immediate feedback; we were going to talk about Tom Ginger today, (pronounce with a hard "G," like in "go fuck yourself," and not a soft "g," as in "ginger snap," and we should say two hard "G's," like Gauguin.. ("Go GAN" and not "Go JAN").. we hadn't thought of him in years and years.. he said one of the funniest things I and the ghosts ever heard in our life.. 

Tom was an old guy when we met him, small, and odd looking; he had blondish-grey hair sort of red in a way, his face was grey-red also.. trollish by the day's standard, (he is most certainly dead now), probably the chances that one or more of the Ginger clan will read this and be offended by it.. too slim to consider.. Tom was just plain ugly.. nothing we would have liked to be or turn into.. (unfortunately, we can't go into the whole "golden-boy," story in a way that would explain our initial feeling and love for Tom Ginger, or all tom gingers everywhere).. and we won't drag the reader through too much detail beyond we thought he was a fag, our choice of "hang out buddies," was slim, and we were just beginning our walk down the long road to pointless bell ringing.. but that we laugh inside to think of it now.

We were talking, Tom and I, about what we hated most of all.. but the reader should understand, I was in my early twenties and still had some fascination for people, how ever immature, so I could put aside the tediousness involved in listening to an old man talk about himself.. (to a young one.. that might be the important piece).. we were all about figuring out what he is up to then.. (a "Raycroft," family trait the Art Partner and I have most recently named "the hyper vigilante," -she will love that I included that piece.. being my whole fan club.. you gotta wonder what a douche the "fan," must feel like at some point in its meaningless worshipping and loving of crap).. we needed to check motivations as a necessary and rather unshakable "impetus," from somewhere.. (we suspect "Hell").. and we might have followed our natural impulse all the way into the U.S.A. political scene.. (we most definitely would have been assassinated in one way or another.. if motivation as a legacy is worth something.. we don't know.. ask John Kennedy).. but we can't lose the point, which was Tom's telling us about a girl who like to blow him in his car.. 

"She had to be completely naked when she did it," he said.  Rather, Tom used the phrase, "not a stitch on," and explained the whole thing as the main part of the process, (removing the stitches).. like the blowjob itself was incidental.. certainly that was not Tom's point or understanding, meaning one without the other, (the stripping and the sucking off), would not have the importance if they were separated.. this was the thing he emphasized.. having to wait for the girl to remove every article of clothing.. only ever requiring of Tom that he unzip his pants.. and I can picture him sitting there.. unzipped.. waiting.  And what are we going to tell the kids.. really listen when an old person is talking to you?

We don't remember what we hated most.. (if there is a "lesson," to learn).. probably so many things to choose from we got it wrong.. Tom hated the word "feedback," to the point of turning even redder than normal telling me how bad he hated that word.. spitting, (more "foaming"), all the while.. and it's probably not that ironic that in reality "feedback," is the absolute bedrock of any good "recovery," (from "alcoholism," anyway, -which, neither of us were in any hurry to experience).. we could expand the concept to include "social health," ("I feed you; you feed me back").. or "teamwork," or "successful marriage even, maybe, probably not," (reference "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolfe," for the study in where did American Marriage go wrong.. feedback wise).. and we certainly can't leave Jesus out of the thing.. or in this case the baby Jesus.. in that it is the "Momma and Poppa," bears that decide the things of the baby.. (and again we will credit Nicky Spin with asking what a baby needs with "Frankincense," or "Myrrh" -and we heard an interesting question of late: why was so much of these "burial herbs," brought to the tomb that was holding the dead Jesus, a hundred pounds of it.. more pleasing of and odor to god than the burnt offering.. ).. and what use are the things of a baby?

When all his feedback is "whaa whaa whaa," yer guess is as good as mine.. 

There was something about the momma bear not being the poppa bear.. we know this for sure.. and can not.. 

We know Tom Ginger was just lamenting the breakdown of conversation into such sterile, formulific.. parts, all pulled apart and dissected.. for our consumption.. the blowjob and the pealing off of the skin.. all dead now.. just as dead as Tom.

IN SEARCH OF THE BEAST
^{Saturday 16 March 2024}

The only problem with anger, (that we can tell for sure), is that it works.. the drawback being it only works on others.

***

WE LIKE TO MAKE THE HAPPY TALK.. (reference "Dancing With Wolves").. It is good to make the happy talk.. and how much better than is the happy command?

KEEPING THE GARDEN.. Where the red fern grows.. the dead dog becomes a living... remember remember remember..

AND WE WILL BE BACK

As much as we hate the fucking bible, we fucking love it.. it's like a book of automatic authority to assume any kind of bullshit we can imagine..  because.. you know.. God wants you to.. as if the "Unabomber," thought he was doing something wrong.. 

We don't know why these particular "books," were hand-picked by whom.. and lumped together into one book.. for whom..

We like Solomon.. we don't like Paul.. Solomon said something along the lines once, "when I was a child I thought like a child, but when I became a man I put those things away."  Now.. we don't know the exact quote.. we don't know if it was recorded accurately.. we can't even say we know what Solomon wanted us to glean from the running mouth.. chances are, we will be faced with a set of circumstances a bit more complex than watching Mom pour some milk into a bowl of cornflakes and the glee that erupts from our stupid face is not going to "suffice," in the ridding ourselves of these circumstances.. (everybody is allowed to define human behavior in any terms they choose).. maybe it will be Mom herself demanding even greater "gratitude," from us that teaches us.. well.. that response isn't working in this instance.  

We don't know what caused Solomon to put away the things of the child.. if it was a decision he thought of himself or if it was a command from a god.. we can surmise that kids need happy talk.. but it's really the parent that wants to end the screaming and crying.. "everything is going to be okay," for instance, well.. this is going to be a tough one.. it's something we've heard a lot, and lots of things didn't turn out okay.. we'd guess about half of things are not going to be okay.. and some of them are going to be downright shitty.

One of our friends sent us a link to an instagram thing.. we're going to copy and paste it because it's not worth visiting:

And this fucking shit just goes on and on and on in an endless dance of fuck you fuck me.. this fucking douchebag, (or bagette), got almost 6,000 likes.. he or she has almost 500,000 "followers," (with 111 of them following.. -whatever that means), something like 13,000 posts.. and we don't blame the kids who "grew up," on this shit because they haven't yet.

I don't know of one single adult that likes to be spoken to, or at, this way, commanded to think a certain way, feel a certain way, or be "aligned," with anything.. nine words written by some cockhead who doesn't know how to spell "grateful."

And if we re-published the first response from "bigjoegale2023," it isn't because we are "in alignment," with that either.. we hate to say, "truth," is not a happy thought.. it is, however, a lot like a "God," that isn't entirely concerned with how anybody feels about reality.. if that were the case, there'd be a "Tree of Life," a "Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil," and a Tree of "Anti-depressants."

WHAT PEOPLE LIKE
^{Friday 15 March 2024}

FRAN LEBOWITZ
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WE HAVE MADE SERIOUS EFFORTS AT considering what people like but the process seems to stop itself, or of its own.. if there is no universal formula for creating something out of a "passion," and at the same time make a living doing it.. it's an age old problem and once this has been said it is time to move on to another subject.. except that it is nice when the penis is involved, or rather allowed to be involved, or possibly even welcomed for its appearance.. and this is an older aged problem.. if all things lead us to the breakdown of "man."

It is not a singular business.. in the same sense that breaking man down is never universal or one-size-fits-all thing.. 

Recently the market has taken to proclaiming "one size fits most," and we are disappointed by these sorts of allowances.. or, what ever the word for "kneeling," might be in this case; we saw this disclaimer on a box of rubber gloves and nearly had to buy them simply to find out.. we were angry at the time that passed deciding whether or not we should give away some of our money for the gloves.. and yes, they did not fit us.. ("cowing," is the word we were looking for).. 

If we can suggest something, it would be, stop sucking cock.. rather, be bold.. declare with confidence, "one size fits most women and children," at least when it comes to rubber gloves.. because we feel a man should never have any reason to pull on a pair of rubber gloves unless he is working with plaster or dry pastels.. and even then, no, it's far better to just throw that junk in the garbage and find another medium; we don't know how much more removed from life a man could be than to use plastic for any reason when making a piece of Art.. meaning.. why stop with the hands.. put your whole head in a small plastic bag..

And this seems a natural segway into condoms as a sterilizing agent.. but we aren't interested in going that way with the thing.. we like Fran Lebowitz and we only wish she had grown her hair out maybe four or five more inches worth.. we saw her recently on some Bill Maher thing.. "Club Random," where we couldn't get past Bill lighting a cigar.. we are supposing Fran is still alive and we'd love to talk with her.. the Jenna Orkin interview we found worth sitting through.. I'd like to get her thoughts on things now that we are living in less of a-man's-world than we were when this thing was shot.. we like that Fran came off a little bit as simply hating everything.. even if put off by it.. 

And we were "called out," on our use of plural pronouns.. (it's not a "gender-identification," thing here.. we wish very much to have things be like they were then, when there was still some mystery to uncover about somebody.. what happened? Well.. another time maybe).. our friend said she was 'sick of the "we," thing,' when people talk.. she knows why we do it here.. but was probably more concerned with her other friend liking us.. or more not liking us.. moving in.. you know, friendship is a weird thing.  And this is where we wanted to get to the cock making it's appearance.

And we know it's a lot to ask a reader to hold in his mind at one time.. (we're just guessing on the sexual-identity-pronouns for time).. we made a statement once about aiming our monologue at men only.. then we figured out that it is better to target women and children.. if a man wants to be at all successful.. (mainly in the U.S.A. we should say).. talking for a living; we should say we have not read any of Fran's material but hope that doesn't matter.. we're not plugging anyone.. unfortunately.. breaking down that term.. plug.. we suppose it means to take hold of someone's "cord," and stick it into someone or something.. "turn them on to," in other words.. we don't see any other connection.. going on the late show tour to plug a piece of Art.. (a movie, a book, etc.).. 

We like the idea of creating a poetry written entirely in prose.. 

PROSE
^{screenshot web-search w/out links}

It is the same "problem," we encounter with oil painting, music, and every other Art form under the sun.. where to take it.

Up the butt?  We read somewhere that Dylan Thomas would work and work and work on a piece for however amount of hours or days or weeks and then memorize it all polished up, go find an "open mic," somewhere in Artville, "share," it, and all the while acting as if he's making it up on the spot.. we can picture the crowd of dirty drug-hazed stinky and sex-crusty kids like, not exactly cat-calling for Dilan on a pillow in a corner.. begging him to get up there and wow everybody.. Dylan saying shyly, "oh no no no... I have nothing prepared," all modest and shit.. and shit.. but to think our little "stream-of-consciousness," book is going to fly very high.. well.. you never know.. it always goes back to who's paying for your food, shelter, and now, of course, "medicines.," and medical insurance premium.. hey.. we didn't say we were going to write good poetry in prose.. we just want to mimic the orchestra or find the right balance of mixed instruments.. like beans and.. what?  

HIGH DRAMA!  We are wondering if the penis can make an appearance in the upcoming presidential election.. and not in the form of horns on a helmet.. (we just thought of maybe Jimmy Kimmel described the Donald Trump dance as looking like you're jerking off two giraffes.. we don't normally think of a giraffe as having a penis.. a giraffe is like a cartoon animal.. cartoons are sexless).. and we're going to try and bring this all together because we are tired of our own mouth right now.. the helmet the horn and the condom and what people like..

What people like.. people like..

We read of a scandal Michaelangelo produced with his carving of "David," uncircumcised.. probably in Rome.. we don't know.. but feel it is important to emphasize the influence of Greece on Rome and Rome on Greece.. and then Washington.. and now.. holding in mind the poetry of Paul, who described himself as being every inch as good as the "Super Apostles," (the heroes who produced the "Pope," into creation - Fran said she wanted to be the Pope as a job.. not to do anything but wave from a balcony); we suddenly imagine professional wrestling.. the nude Olympics.. and theatre.. Jack Black in spandex.. and of course, Adolf Hitler.. so.. poetry in prose seems perfect.

^{Thursday 14 March 2024}

WIT OUTWIT AND HALFWIT WERE out hunting... 

CAN'T FUCK WITH IRONY
^{Wednesday 13 March 2024}

WHAT"S WORSE THAN THE OPPOSITE of irony?  Imagine that life..  

If every other paradox is true.. and what if.. something as dumb as "the-anti-thesis-is-the-thesis," we were thinking..

Well, at any rate, we know from the story that the "Buddha," was never falsely convicted of a felony and sent to jail and then boned up the ass a couple years.. in Mexico.. or Turkey.. to the point he couldn't sit under any tree for any length of time without bleeding.. if there was a point to imagining the Dalai Lama, (meaning, is this "enlightenment?").. being reamed.. would that sort of trauma prevent the.. transmorfification.. or something less traumatic.. like 1970.

How could the big Dalai Lama miss the Keith Raniere thing.. with all his enlightenment.. we gotta ask ourself.. if the whole "enlightenment," thing is horseshit.. "and he's going to have you down to Camp David," we'd say, "don't knock.. not on this door.. not for any reason..."  

But oh, to be the guy that wrote that line!  

JACK NICHOLSON 1970
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THE IRONY HERE IS Jack might be the only man alive that can wear a mustache by itself and not look like a 1970's porn industry failure.. but still close.. and in the actual 1970's.. remaining ever the epitome of the "alpha," we will never be.. but "the greatest of all time?"  

We're going to try something different here at the KLANGORSCRAWLER.. this piece, (above), has got the look of some local television news show somehow pinning Jack Nicholson down at the airport.. and he doesn't tell them to go fuck their self.. no.. in fact he goes so far beyond "nailing," the thing.. it's just beyond any sort of "gift," anyone like us could be given.. this is a fucking treasure for real.. (from the Bobby Wygant archive).. and we're just going to plug our cry to "storm the Vatican Library," again.. if we could do one world good before we check out.. but let's get on to the thing.

Even though it's been said already.. I'm thinking we only saw half of the above "clip," when the phone rang and we got totally distracted, or we were trying to do both.. but we are left with the impression of seeing a man in full.. (plug to that weasel Tom Wolfe there.. for the confusion he brought us in our search for the great man.. we don't really know if Tom sold out at the end.. the whole green acid koolaid blow me trip.. it isn't important.. what remains is our independence in not giving a fuck.. which is what enlightenment boils down to.. at least for that one brand of kooky buddha that hangs around here on earth because he feels it's his duty to drag the rest of us along.. to wherever.. we doubt Tom Wolfe is the sort of man who can see the real depth of that kind of irony)..  yeah, we got to see it and that makes the struggle worth while.. and that's more than enough.. the impression.. on the brain.. for any jackass.. 

-but nobody's floating along mindlessly around here anymore.. (on brain-imprints alone), without bleeding from the rectum.. or, "enlightenment-as-a-hope/hype," let's say.. and here's where we lose our audience every time; we suggest everybody is possibly fooled by their sureties.. that's why the Christians made "doubt," such a normal part of church sucking.. you don't have to really believe in order to believe.. it's the one irony almost everyone in church is willing to put up with.. so we're going to drop it.

We are going to try and focus on the real poise and grace of Jack Nicholson being interviewed by what seems to us a "stewardess," of the worst sort of stereotyped anything.. if anybody gets less respect than a stewardess it would be a male stewardess.. I mean, that's got to be an "American Airlines," logo on the wall behind Jack.. got to be.. he says he's on his way to Europe to try his hand at directing a picture.. which we then found a bit of on YouTube.. (we saw enough to get the impression the theme was something along the lines of the Vietnam "War," protest of the day.. which stirred us in its own right, but on the other hand fits into the enlightenment search everywhere).. and yeah, we'll mention real grace and dignity and move on.. asking only if it is free or hard fought for.. still neck and neck..

If we thought making the thing personal would help, we'd say we were ten at the time, (years old), and crapping our little double-knit pants all day every day trying to figure out how we are going to get out of going to Vietnam our self.. and not because it's popular to drag trauma into every discussion now, but because "all-day-every-day," (ironically), describes both enlightenment and non-enlightenment at the same time in the simple fact we are discussing something.. well.. I'm lecturing about something.. or "essaying," or whatever.. calling to mind the famous, "we hope to see you back here tomorrow," TV newscaster's goodbye.. this is no discussion.. this little all-day-every-day was worse, (we can only imagine), than waking up in a salt mine in Africa one day.. as opposed to my father's house with not as many mansions as we were told in it.. even if it's just our opinion that Jack stands alone.. we gotta look up, "did Jack ever dress in drag for a movie," for a minute.. and here's our answer:

BING-SEARCH RESPONSE
^screenshot

Well.. that's a disappointment but we'll live with it.. and we might want to look deeper into this later on.. this whole "Satanic," thing, although very interesting.. well.. we pretty much figure everyone has sold their soul to the devil at one time or another.. and the only ream-aining question is something Jesus asked, basically, ("what can a man trade for his soul?" -or, "what good is salt that is no longer salty?" -answer being it's good for the dung pile, which we think has something to do with the value of fertilizer.. if we really realy really wanted to get to the bottom of anything Jesus said; we figure it to be the most supreme irony of all if getting trampled underfoot by swine wasn't something Jesus considered a good idea after all), so who cares?  In the end, all anyone can say is "Hats Off, Jack!"

Nobody can be you.. you gotta do it all by your self.. (?)

People would like to credit the devil we think.. that takes all the pressure off being a regular old sell out.. cocksucker.

Somewere in the middle of this thing the girl is pressing Jack to answer the big question, will he attend the academy awards, and if he doesn't, who will accept the award.. (Jack had already answered this question; he said something to the effect, "no actor worth his salt is going to be thinking about academy awards of any kind, but the interviewer didn't hear that).. what interests us is he says, kind of in a mumble, "if I had any family that was living..." and we find it interesting, his being born in 1937 would make him about 33 at the time of this interview.. meaning, 33 and no living family?  What does that mean, Jack.. what does that mean exactly?

There really are no more things to be reasoned out for us.. we are left to the task of killing the "ego," (thought-story-self), or freeing that soul from the binds of the past and future.. not that the loss of the KLANGORSKRAWLER will be so tragic.. least of all to us.. if the greatest gurus are telling us that what they're telling us is not really real.. in the sense one cannot imagine reality.. if it really is becoming perfectly mindless.. to the alpha-bent this will never make sense.. if the only large scale "change," (for the good), in the world demands everybody choose the farm over Paris.. if it means everybody stop chasing bullshit.. if we're going to create a scenario, (and from the bottom!), where we get everybody to dial it back about 20 notches.. live small.. accept less.. we figure there's always going to be that balancing half that thinks something that was never great can be made somehow great again.  Maybe most gurus become enlightened our of exhaustion, when you never hear from them again.. but this cheesy looking Dalai Lama that flew out to meet Kieth Raniere.. (?).. how you going to give everybody that sick-Freud-face smile after that?  I mean.. the guy got paid.. and is there another Dalai Lama yet?

So, yeah, hats off Jack.. and we're tired.. our original thought ran along the lines of, "is self-destruction any stupider than alpha-type world domination?" -as a goal.. if both are one... but we never got to it.. how is anyone to translate these deeper ironies to the MAGA branch of pointlessness.. 

STUPID LUCK
^{Tuesday 12 March 2024}

IF ONE MAN'S LUCK IS ANOTHER'S MISFORTUNE.. if in fact one man's trash is another's treasure.. or treasure trash.. if one succeeds at the failure of one.. well, we didn't make the rules now; did we?  

If it is dumb luck, "enlightenment," we'd say "if," allows a man to dream.. and is the only product of all his dreaming.  But that "God loved Jacob and hated Esau," -now there is something worth sorting out, (we'd say).  And what other conundrums did the Good Hebrews give us?  What "paradoxi," and glories?  Basically amounts to.. "and God said there's only so much to go around;" so it's up to you now.  

Life with no "spirit of giving," no wanting to give away.. no ability to relinquish..  this is not the same as going around saying, "you should be grateful," or worse, being happy someone else has it so much worse than us.. go about thinking of starving children all day.. and worse, (because there is always worse), talking to us about it.  How fucking perverted is it to languish in the thought of the man with no feet.. when there's one with no cock.. Hell.. we know guys that had their whole balls and rectums, colons and intestines cut out.. all hooked up with tubes and bags.. and then there's the little retarded boy.. and what about all those dead "jewels," of the earth, you know, the beautiful co-ed "saints," (in shear nighties), all clubbed over the head with fireplace logs, by Ted Bundy.  Tell us about the day God stopped the sun in the sky, Grandpa, so the Jews could finish up the slaughter and slave and cattle collection.. come on Grampa.. have a purpose.

***

AND WE WOULD BE REMISS had we not mentioned the birthdays just flown by this March without much recognition.. good mother fuck.. pretty sure Jesus had a birthday this month.. and there's still time! -because we are not certain of the exact date.. and can it matter?  Why now we start our New Year at the Ides of March.. the death of Ceasar.. and the liberation of whom.. or, the great Lee Majors, (you know, the unknown stuntman.. that makes Eastwood look so fine).. if these ain't the endtimes.. again.. (always the endtimes are just around the corner somehow).. we're making a series of bathroom paintings for just that occasion.. we'll keep them in a box in the garage for now.. maybe we'll stumble on them again in a future garage sale.. what if this whole climate thing is a hoax after all.. if the bat shit flu is just a flu.. we had Jim Carrey, and Guano.. We had Jim Croce, (Oh My God Who Cares), and Jimmy.. -James Patrick Caviezel Jr. Who Cares, (for real).. and Mad Max.. and who can forget Old Mel Where'd You Go..

But we are going to solve the toilet paper dilemma today at least and prove, once and for all that women are more "visually," enslaved than men.. (by stimulation).. and if we've got time provide graphics.. because the little Imp in my house likes to laugh at Grampa while wizzing, -she switches the roll around on me, putting it back on the way all, (every single one I've known), womens likes it to be.. over the top.. (there is one woman who puts the roll on man-style but that's because her cats unravell the thing whenever they can get to it.. and until cats learn to claw up and not down.. she's just going to have to deal with her toilet paper roll all hooked up the wrong way).. and we're doing this because nobody on earth likes their toilet paper breaking off before they have gathered enough to do the job.. it would be enough to say the paper is more likely to break off prematurely when it is unrolling from the top down than the bottom up.. but that would require all women of the world to imagine physics.. and that's just not going to happen.. any more than the notion Imperium needs to unravel from the bottom up.. and that's just about the end of the story.. (we won't suggest a reason women prefer the toilet paper to feed from the top.. but that it looks better.. and there's no other logical conclusion to draw).

IT PROBABLY DOESN'T MATTER
^{Monday 11 March 2024}

KNOWING WHY ANYTHING but specifically this morning, why penguins are more successful at mating for life than we are.

Yeah, we know, duh, that penguins are not mammals.. but nobody's making that movie.. if we really insist upon anthropomorphizing the poor penguin.. 

-an·thro·po·mor·phize 

1. attribute human characteristics or behavior to (a god, animal, or object):
   "people's tendency to anthropomorphize their dogs"

Let's leave the gods out of it for a minute.. especially all the personally possessed gods.. and think about penguins acting like people do for real for a minute.. but not in the missionary posision, or "missionary," positions, (like "pope"), but in divorce court.. -and we should change the word "custody," of the children to "ownership;" we think.

Nobody's making that movie and nobody's watching it.  It's because nobody likes or wants to be a custodian.. we changed the word to something better.. nobody thinks of themselves as the "dog custodian," either.. we're happy to love them more than kids.. one out of a hundred of us even properly trains a dog.. so.. we guess there's hope. 

IT MIGHT BE
^{Saturnday 9 March 2024}

COME, WHAT'S ALL THIS DOUBLING DOWN ON the rejection of the mental health industrial narrative? -pooh pooh

Well, we are leaving that aside to say that it might be that women are far more likely to be found "making love," during sex than any man can wonder about.. it is a short "message," today; should there be no "making love," in reality, (for the man), there will be no sex.  We've heard of making love.. and told that like most important things in life we will simply "know," when it is "real."  Very good!  This, at least, provides some sense we've never experienced it.. (which is not to say we have not loved any of the women we have had sex with; it simply means we are unsure if the two can be combined.. or rather all these terms we hear with "love," in them.. -we love these shoes, for example.. this notion that there is an "other-worldly," intercourse.. (sexual or otherwise).. might better be put on the rack of fictions with the rest of the crap everybody is trying to make happen.. but will never actually see, like a good pair of shoes we can afford, for instance.. I mean, we can imagine an encounter with a woman so spontaneous and natural.. so "I-wasn't-even-there," sort of thing.. so unforgettably "godlike," or pure, good, innocent and free.. a perfect connection or re-connection of two eternally-wandering-lost souls.. yes, it can be all that and why not?).. 

We can fight the insistence the aged and aging in our most "Blessed America," need to be bulldozed into holes later.. as this is the one club that includes every single one of us.. the young might not lament they have not aged enough to be listened to yet.. but see.. they are ever aging.. tic toc tic toc.. and that people will listen even less to them later on.. and come to realize before they hear the rumblings, not of any gods, but of the big diesel engine.. and see the big blade of the plow.. (a more efficient scythe), aimed squarely at them.

WE GOT A FUCKING SLOGAN WE NEVER HEAR ANYMORE
^{Tuesday 5 March 2024}

A DRUG IS A DRUG IS A (MOTHERFUCKING) DRUG; this is what A.A. used to say when asked, "is smoking pot okay?"

And we really don't "give a fuck," (we really cannot afford to); if using pharmaceuticals is your thing.. (unfortunately for you weed smokers, marijuana is now a pharmaceutical too.. used to be just illegal and most probably "fun," and exciting for no other reason than we weren't allowed to smoke it at all).. what we object to is deceit in A.A. (in the upper ranks.. but you gotta expect that too).. we don't give a flying fucking fuck how anybody else stays sober.. we object to the new guy not getting the real, (or whole), story.. How It Works...

"Let's be reasonable," (we say).. or if we want to talk like Bill Wilson.. "come now, what's all this stubbornness about?"

We'd say cowardice is not a mental illness, (we hate to tell everybody); we know because we overcame it.. and without "meds." (in reality, we might correct our self; the use of psychiatric medications led us to the absolute apex of despair and the greatest taking of courage under the sun.. -and, ah.. and here we can visualize taking it back!.. in the quitting of those "medicines;" the despair was so deep that I'd have rather died drunk in a ditch than gain years and years of "sobriety," by the method of "managing mental illness symptoms," which was just plain too dismal of a definition of the rest of my life).

And we'd love to leave off on a good note.. here's one.. you want to know how you can be elevated from "miserable prick," way up to "sainthood?"  Die.  Doesn't matter anymore you were a cocksucking douchebag and anybody who even entertained the notion of asking you to "sponsor," them.. well.. it's hard to imagine.. ("hey, how'd you get 20 years sober?" -easy, I got stoned everyday).. can't say anything bad about the dead guy.. everybody knows that all murder victims were the absolute best of us.. no dickhead ever gets shot.

***

MAYBE WHAT WE REALLY HATE in women is the ugly man inside.. maybe...

Women got a real knack for being somebody else.. and a worse knack for picking the very best.. or at least not being happy short of it.. this is why they immediately take to improving the "husband."  That was our love advice.. "men, always wear your hair like you need a haircut bad.. this will do two things to the woman.. it will quell her fears you give a shit what people think.. and secondly it will give her a focus she can't resist or deny or turn away from.. to immediately improve you.

And we love them for all this.. for every bit of it.

And we'd like to address something Solomon said, while we're at it.. this business of finding a faithful man.. or a friend.. "one in ten-thousand," he said.. but among women, "not one."  People are a little, what's the word.. "unreasonable," we think.. when it comes to King Solomon.. it's mainly because we agree.. we can easily see the 9,999 men, (of that 10,000.. otherwise known as the "douchebaggery"), being still in the category of "woman-and-child."  And we know this is going to be a little difficult to eat and digest.. but it will solve the mystery of why "women and children," are in some special separate category of "asshole," than the rest of us.. it's fucking jealousy, boys, plain and simple.. you know you lost your old lady the minute you're informed that infant she just "gave you," has a penis too.. you are forever second now, Pal O'Mine, and you better give up your spot with something resembling grace and dignity.. or your whole legacy is like the glory days of a high school quarterback.. and you know that fucking guy.. 

We'd say woman-and-child are "one," in the real "God," way.. unlike, and very unlike, us.. the man.. so, you better listen.

BEING JESUS WOULD SUCK
^{Sunday 3 March 2024}

IF "HYPE" IS UNAVOIDABLE, rather.. (just one letter away from "HOPE").. we gotta ask our self what's really happening.. I mean.. being Jesus, we'd have to imagine having unlimited magic powers.. and a cock?  The rest of us have to have our wishes line up with both the authority's.. and Jesus.. (if you're a Christian).. that's like an extra supervisor at Wendy's.. one is real and one thinks he is.. all we can do is check the hat.. the badge.. the stripes.. (shed your coat Son.. and display those stripes proudly).

And yes, we admit to having wanted to be Jesus in the past.. we been asked enough if we were trying to be Jesus.. "or something;" we can't forget the "or something," part.. what do you think you're the manager around here.. or just being bypassed altogether.. we heard that a lot.. spoken about us to the closest available bachelor monkey.. "this guy thinks he's Jesus?"

Or something.. usually pronounced "sump-m," somehow.. we don't know why that isn't a word like "wanna," now.. or "impor-ant;" always funny to us the people ordering everybody to speak English around here can't.. but we're going to leave "american," culture alone for a minute.. way too much hype.. we think, honestly, if we really want to stop people from wanting to come here we should just report actual history.. like.. life not on facebook..

Never going to happen.. that's like the parent telling the truth to their child.. the whole truth.. and nothing but the truth.. soul help them god.. 

And it would require people actually believe "God," gave a shit if they lie.. or the big threat actually worked on people.. this whole going back to the "good old," days hype.. when beating the child worked.. (people don't consider the fact that a thing would have to be great in order to be great again).. most people think about the "world-war-two," thing as great.. but fail to see the irony of having a "china-town," in pretty much every big city, but somehow no "jap-a-town." (you know of all the guys I met in jail, including the corrections officers, I only ever saw two chinese.. and that was in county)..

Ah well... we don't want to seem too "sympathetic," to.. wait.. exactly who is the "enemy," now?  That word, "sympathetic," came up recently and w can't remember the context.. or "sympathetic to the enemy," (as in "forgiveness," but fuck that).

Hype will beat Hope in a fight.. but is that the great again.. or greater-than.. that we been searching for?  

Something with some actual real personal power that isn't fluff.. or has an "outcome," to kick us in the ass.. we don't know if anyone else has noticed, nothing ever lives up to the hype.. and we know we aren't the first person alive to point this out.. we just never listen.. like our kids.. we can't.

***

WAIT WAIT WAIT.. ENLIGHTENMENT.. for the psychopath.. that's what we really wanted to suggest today...

We mean, can we imagine if the Irish, somehow, posed a threat.. anywhere, but for our purposes let's say, to our own national security.. beyond the tree fort wars, we mean, hurling black potatoes at each other.. the rival bachelor-monkey clubs.. we'd need a special fort to lock up just about half of our self.. if that half had anything worth "procuring," or pillaging.. that's where that story ends.. everybody knows the Irish can't keep their mouth shut for five minutes.. or even one.. and their only recourse is to whack you with the magic stick.. the other Jesus stick.. I mean, why don't we have like a "french-catholic," thing.. (probably the fine Art involved).. if we only got two catholicisms to pick from.. I want to see what it's like to be a german catholic.. well.. let us think of the origins.. Roman.. Greek.. and then.. somehow.. the Irish.

Yeah, it's plain to see why reporting actual history will never work..

Come by tomorrow, enlightenment dear.. 

THE GODDESS
^{Saturday 2 March 2024}

KNOW THE MALE BUT REMAIN IN THE FEMALE might be key to success; know the "manifest creation," yet abide in the "unmanifest."  Rather, if we are able to conceive of the "ALL," and the "NOTHING," we cannot escape the sense that the "nothing," is a thing, though it cannot be.  The creature is not able to construct an image of the non-created thing.. the non-existing is invisible, like imagination itself; this mechanism of imagining and speculating is a product of the material and can closely perceive of its not existing anymore, and yet cannot.. once the imagination begins to imagine its non-existence.. well, anyone who tries this exercise will be able to understand the results.  If we can separate existing from non-existing and remove the "male," and the "female," from the "yin-and-yang," idea, we can ask if the YANG is all existence and the YIN all nothingness.

Objective observance is crucial to "detachment," from the PERSON as an object.  The body is an object in which the person abides; this is why we perceive "GOD," as a person, but we lose the real connection to man as a person, wholly, collectively and "rightly."

-this is the sort of "convoluted," and complex, concocted.. cock.. in the world.. this immense structure of thought.. all conceived up, written down, digested and spit up.. all in an effort to find and re-establish some flailing wispy "reed," of something so simple and straightforward, (as things go), as your common, everyday TRUST.. as when you roll over and step out of bed there's going to be a floor and it's going to hold you up.. but even that, anymore.. can we be really sure?"

We return to the perfect trust of a child, (we call them "kids," not because they kid us, but because they learn to.. we are the "kidders," and they are the duped).. 

THE NEW WORLD VILLAGE
^{Thursday 29 February 2024}

YEAH THAT'S WERE WE WERE TRYING TO GO yesterday.. the utter smallness of the "self," and the burning rage against "insignificance;" it's almost as if it was planned, or had to be planned, or couldn't possibly have been planned by the most malevolent of all gods.. it's just a perfect amount of paradox, to keep the attention.. when it's the attention that has to die.

In the sense a "soul," can become less and less significant, historically, and perfectly.. as our awareness gets stretched to the infinite outer space.. we think of the village and how significant a new baby is in it.. every member of the clan comes to touch it.. greet and welcome.. face to face.. oh, how unbelievably gone that whole process is now, here in the machine.

***

IT'S REALLY SEEMING LIKE the great "forgiveness," thing is really just a demand to let the "mind-story-self," die.. at least it makes the word itself not hateful, like the demand we be so "grateful," for a big plate of shit.. the idea that on top of the sore and bleeding assholes we've all got to keep presenting both cheeks and feel good that it's not worse.. I mean, the next time we hear how much worse somebody else has got it we're going to make things excruciatingly worse for whatever douchebag just repeated that crap; how easily wisdom gets lost in empty religious parroting.. usually knowing the definition of "hypocrisy," and even perfectly, isn't enough to stop it from happening.

We've thought about going back and editing out some rage-spilling that's happened.. especially toward women.. (we know that once a woman is turned away she's gone for good), but we think it better to leave it as proof that any man can mature.. pointing out the original definition of the word "perfect," (in the King James version of the bible), centered in becoming "complete," or "mature;" if the maturing of the "American," man is at all significant to the thing it would be worth understanding what "perfection," really is.. since, nobody is about to run out and buy the just-less-than-perfect napkin holder when the perfect one is sitting right beside it on the store's shelf.

Genuine "dying-to-self," would mean we are never going to be the guy that comes up with the political solution and cure for this fungus that mankind really is.. we are not going to be any kind of "hero," not even on a small, achievable scale.. never going to enjoy that identity.. of granddad.. or good son.. husband.. successful.. anything.. that big story we wanted to plant in the minds of those.. motherfuckers.. after all that personal "evangelizing," (our own personal, singular, "good news").. all that momentary belief in the bullshit that's spewing out of us with no other evidence of its "truth," than some utterly clueless douchebag in the chair next to ours believes it.. that self must die.

WHEN THE WORLD WAS FLAT
^{Wednesday 28 February 2024}

JESUS THE MENTAL IDOL
^{Tuesday 27 February 2024}

AS PEOPLE PREFER AS IT IS written..
But we are too tired to go into this as we feel it should be obvious to anybody who reads that fucking book.. but we do feel some need to credit Eckhart Tolle with the terminology.. any mention of a thing can only create a "mental concept," so any talk of "god," can only create a "mental idol," at least, as in the case of "Jesus," (the "Christ"), or any other "god," that has a name, (much less the added bonus of a face and a body floating around somewhere, and plastered all over the walls of every Christian building, -the graven image floats around in the congregation head).

But getting angry about this is fruitless.

YET AGAIN
^{Friday 23 February 2024}

WE ARE PREPARING FOR THE BIG throw off.. of the world.. as that seems the only solution.. no preparation necessary!  We knew, rather, that the world was a snake when we picked her up again.. but each time, we should report to the newcomer, it grows less and less difficult to shuck the coat.. and one of these times it will be for good.  

Probably much like the child leaves its mother for a few seconds and runs back, leaves again but a little longer and runs back.. and the next thing he knows he's made it to the other side of the earth.. and there is no need.

No need is possibly the goal of every man that ever lived.. (trapped within the confines of what has become an incessant jerk-off machine around here).. it could be the insistence and ever cry of the escaping of all need and want.. around here.. we might look to as the ultimate villain of the story.. ever "around" here.. never actually here.  

The great stream of consciousness here akin to being here and now.. for us today.. we knew she was a snake when we picked her up again.. just us two.. the great bronze snakes of the AMA.. if ever a created thing had no conscious past or future it would be the reptile.. she can't be trained, anyway.. she resembles the four legged created thing only bald, one might say.. and did we know the "gecko," (on our shoulder), should prove to be "prophetic," when we put it there.. we were unconscious in drunkenness.. but ah.. we were unable to remove the "JAN."

And can the leopard change its spots.. and if they didn't believe Moses the certainly will not us.. ju-ust the two of us...

Jesus and Buddha.. (who did you think we were talking about?).. sans-embellishment.. in all the millennia-douchebag-societies we got two enlightened people.. this seems so incredibly funny.. but what are we gonna do.. we can make a big announcement we are quitting smoking again.. the wisdom is there.. holy fuck me jesus.. can we just stop with the printed wisdom for a minute.. as "in-the-moment," as all Facebook scrolling is, I mean, come on.. 

We shan't die by suicide, (if these are the implications garnished from these pieces of drivel; we don't even know if we are using the word "garnish" properly).. boy when those cats found out where Jesus was heading.. fuck that.. and neither by "assassin's bullet," we should think; our drivel is wholly indistinguishable from the continual spew of wisdom in little boxes.. a floating doll head drifting by.. oh Richard.. now there is a new feature in the landscape of beauty no one will ever see.. yes yes yes.. to the brush yet again!

YES, "I AM," THE GREAT AND POWERFUL HERE AND NOW
^{Wednesday 21 February 2024}

IT'S GOT NO SEX ATTACHED.. we can be sure of that.. or both; if we find our self writing love letters in the sand we might as well be writing them to our self.. or wouldn't that be a grand thing anyway.. "self-love," for real.

Except that that whole takeover-passion is really a mimic of our own for our self anyway.. but how to make it a healthy thing.. if all evidence points to a spreading rash of "mental illnesses," do we question the real "source?"

The great and powerful "creative-source," thing.. we're just glad we were on the right track way back in our "20's," when we first dedicated our self to a finding or engaging with a perfect objectivity.. to be a hermit for real.

And not just because he didn't have to bathe regularly.

It can't have any "sex," attached to it, and certainly must contain the two.. our little excursions into the here and now have given us a glimpse of what it is to be perfectly cockless in the world, at least for a minute or so.

Oh, we still got young "pussy," throwing their mind at us right and left.. well.. okay, so it's not exactly a "wave," and yes, one single case can in fact be written off to "lunacy," but we deny all narratives in the here and now.

There isn't any "wrapping it up," in the here and now.. no way to give the irresponsible spewing any sort of "justification," for spraying out unheeded.. but that there's no real reason to "regret," it either maybe.

TO MY LOVE
^{Tuesday 20 February 2024}

THIS WILL SOUND VERY SILLY BUT I KNOW you will see it.  It is, or would be, foolish to say something like "we could go far," or that we will go far.. "if only," because everything will be forever in the here and now.. and we will never get to that place.. rather if we are always looking to what will be if.. if that becomes the energy that is propelling us.. where.. forward? You see how silly this is.. but for things you have expressed.. (primarily: "make me into something else," and this, as a pure pouring out of deepest sentiment is very beautiful and tragic, but as a "directive," ultimately foolish, if I was to literally take it upon myself to do).. I can never look away from you.

The whole of me wants to say listen to me.. or, if you can, (listen and do), then yes, absolutely, you will not remain the same; I would only add, "unreservedly," to love, honor, cherish and obey.. (nearly in spite of any emotions involved or provoked by doing those things), if for the simple fact that you are unable to do them now, you will change.  If because these words have a genuine meaning in the soul, they have survived for.. ever.. and come to us now.. here and now.. from the day they were uttered for the first time, or felt, wished, or "created," in a single heart.. if anyone needs a mystery profound enough to sustain them.. when is that search going to end?

I would only trust you as I see deepest in you a "divine feminine," ache and willingness, or "hope," or a desire so great to be taken away.. and how foolish is it for a man to wish these same things yet abuse you for them?  To say to you that you are weak and wish to avoid responsibility.. (a projection of his own unwillingness to bear it upon himself alone.. that great risk.. to bear all the "blame," for his own broken promise or failure to perform his part).. these are great and immortal things, these battles, and loves, and falling off eternal abysses.. and anything a man's mind can come up with in his splendor and despair.. he being everything and nothing.

***

BECAUSE THEY COME BACK TO YOU, he does these things and returns them to you, the ideal man, that is the promise, and what can anyone say to the kids except, "think well," and give it everything, your whole hearts are at stake.. think well and be certain.. and jump.. jump just as hard and "fearlessly," as you both can.. run as hard as you can for the mark, aim your foot and hit it, and jump from the souls of your feet to the tops of your heads.. flair every muscle.. your whole being, make it one, and jump.. and if you can't do that, do nothing.

^{Monday 19 February 2024}

IF WE SHOULD NOT TRY AND SEE to the neglect of the KLANGORSCRAWLER, we would say that the incorporation of the action of the "group-therapy-model," upon the A.A. meeting might also be scrutinized for it's effectiveness, if not a certain unavoidability; we should put some look into the difference between a group and a meeting.. as differentiated more so from "the program," itself; because people are going to naturally do the group thing.. so.. how do we make it effective in simply doing the fucking thing we want it to do?

GOOD STUFF
^{Thursday 15 February 2024}

FINDING SOMETHING BETTER THAN HOPE was not such a foolish goal after all.. the business of getting off that whole "hope/despair," spectrum.  We might not be that guy that makes it to "enlightenment," or is never awarded any genuine "spiritual awakening," or makes it out of this shit hole with anything like a sense of accomplishment.. much less the joy of being here now at all.. we maybe can't really "die to self," or shuck off the big identity-story we been living on our whole life.. this whole website thing would end the moment that happens.

The KLANGORSCRAWLER would have to die anyway...

WE HEARD JACKASS GOT 20 YEARS.. OF SOBRIETY
^{Mittwoch ("midweek") 14 February 2024}

STILL CHASING THE GIRLS.. (both things he keeps in his pocket).. We hear people say they lost such-and-such amount of years because they went back out drinking.. (sorry kids if this one is all about A.A.); we're just so goddamned sick of people.. we know we gotta go out and expand our little circle of friends beyond that little crazy farm and we're just kind of being lazy about it.. so comfortable to take one detail at a time to work on.. we remember Tom telling us to just concentrate on one area of the painting.. the details we can only take one at a time.. waiting to notice the "happy accident," in-between.. you know, sweating, scratching, scrutinizing, all hunched over, brow aflame.. clamping so hard down on that paintbrush we can almost hear it screaming to get away.. and then oops.. we suddenly see something we weren't trying to do, something much better than we thought we could do.. happen.. (it just seems to have happened when our hand slipped or a bong went off and startled us).. and immediately the feeling is a shot of fear like, oh fuck.. we gotta stop and look at what happened.. it just seems to have happened).. and we do a little dance and it's all "mother fucking right mother fucker," for about ten minutes.. and then we have to decide if this happy accident needs to be left alone.. meaning, well, we didn't really paint it.. this perfect detail.. I mean, you can almost smell the peach.. and that's the choice.. because it doesn't quite line up with and fit into the rest of the painting.. there might be a little raised brush stroke involved, in our attempt to create a surface void of this "affect," when we were shooting for master-class oil painting.. this little mark of perfection doesn't belong there at all because we had nothing to do with it.

The big A.A. hero we're referencing is replicated thousands of times all over the world.. married of course, just like Bill.. he speaks at every meeting, nobody has ever heard him pass.. he seems to be the most intelligent, insightful, knowledgeable, caring, blah-blah-blah member in the whole town.. I mean, you want to talk about an identity-story doing its thing.. just massive.. 

And we always had this thing, because the words are all there, -you just got to find them; we always had this thing about "time," in the program.. (or "time in the program," actually).. time sober, if you like.. how much time you got.. we don't hear that as a question too much because it's considered impolite to ask "how much time you got?" -we tried to not ask it in prison either but it's on everybody's mind, you can't help but count your days until counting days makes you lose your mind.. we couldn't, rather.. we found some relief playing cards.. we were lucky to find some white-trash kid that liked to play gyn.. (a penny a point).. he was better at it than us somehow.. he kept a lead the whole time.. greasy long grey hair.. busted teeth.. not the guy you want to look at as a "milestone-marker," in your big ascent in this lifetime.. on the spectrum of social affluence, we mean.. and how are you ever going to shake something like that off.. the hours and hours and hours getting beat at gyn by a hobo in prison.. you know, on TV maybe.. it would make a great Kenny Rogers song.. (we think it did! -except he didn't die and we didn't have any whiskey).. I can't imagine people seeing their selves portrayed on TV movies.. what that's gotta feel like.. 

Justy another rambling day.. happy to see there's really no way to carry around 20 years.. that's why we keep saying it.

Bill wanted his life "restored," because he had one he wanted to get back to.. he wanted to be "restored," to sanity, (basically broken down that means control over your mind, and subsequent arm and leg movements).. Bill was a successful stock broker at one point, surviving on speculations and good sales skills.. (in a fluff market).. he wanted everybody basically sucking his cock again.. restore the story.. you know, before all those chapters containing the parts about what a fucking shit bag Bill Wilson really was.. and that's what we don't like about the hero.. he keeps saying he just wants to "be a better person," and it's always better.. better.. and better.. unto infinitimummiminimumiffi...

WHERE'S THE TRUST
^{Tuesday 13 February 2024}

^{YOU KNOW ME
(JUST ASK YOU)}

What was in the beginning the beginnings of a great poem.. but are we finding any success in the here and now thing?

We loved that line, "where's the trust," (from the movie AS GOOD AS IT GETS); Melvin, after more or less terrifying the dog, “Verdell,” saying things like, "you're dead," sets out a bowl that is overflowing with some of the richest meats in his refrigerator, accented with spikes of bacon strips, and the dog just looks at it.. and Melvin is mystified, of course, it's a pretty subtle line, "where's the trust," and not at all a "laugh-out-loud," moment in the film, but we thought it very brilliant.

We've debated the use of fiction all our life.. against the value of truth.. and need to ask along the way, "any progress?"

We never really wanted to play.. this is due we imagine to our given place in the order of siblings.. (third).. you might sum things up with the idea that every game played more or less up until adolescence, and far beyond, amounted to a pretty sure loss, but we did get to witness the battles that were fought between the older two.. if we ever had a good reason to never join in.. basically, we'd conclude, nobody ever really won because we all had to sit down and eat with Dad.  We don't remember many dinners as a boy beyond one, and it sticks with us because of the confusion, the fear and the throwing up.. all because we genuinely could not get a spoonful of peas to go down.  If there is any use in going back and "reliving," a personal horror.. if there is such a thing as "desensitization," and of course, if it is simply not better to forget the whole experience.. we're just going to say of the whole issue that Dad was the great "leveler," of all things significant.

So where's the trust?

Eckhart makes some issue of the trust needed to move along in the here and now.. the whole laying aside, (death), of the mental identity.. which strikes a unique and ultimately self-annihilating chord in us.. something dear old Dad used to say all the time, (from the advice column), which was, "forget the past."  We don't really think we can describe accurately the depth and certainty of our decision to never please this man, to never make him proud.. (which grew out of the making him proud and being ashamed of it which is beyond any mystery).. how this much hate can rule a boy's life.. and for so long.. and still.. in the whole discussion world-wide now concerning the makings of "identity;" it is difficult for us to imagine that anyone can read us and not have to stop for a minute, and sit down, and say "oh yeah," I see that.. (or at least anyone that this book of thoughts is directed toward).. in the daily debate over whether or not any of this is useful or corruptive at all.. we continually swing back and forth between yes and no.. and as any book of history, any book of fiction, any book of any mix of the two will easily point out, this simply will not do.

We can only say for now that we have not traveled very far along in the here and now to make any determination as to where it might go or of what value it might prove to be.. we think about this "expressionism," we do here.. because we know a proper book is written, edited, reread and re-edited, and put through all sorts of burnings in the fires and refinements and such, and then, only then, given to the public.. for.. consumption?  Not ours.. of course.. consumption not ours.. and what was our stuff called just a few days ago.. "regurgitated bullshit."

Our response could only be, ho well, we hope some of those peas make it out to forever and badly stain your favorite blouse.. you rotten, fucking, whoring, cunt.. and this brings us to the image of the dog returning to his vomit.. oh we've had that one thrown in our face along the way.. mostly out of the same mouth.. and we sometimes want to go down to the street corner and start singing, "cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt.." (you pick your word).. mimicking some classical, well recognizable piece of music.. not for any reason at all except that it would be so unbelievably pointless and ridiculous, it would serve nothing beyond leaving people who heard is a little more confused by the scene out there.. we don't think anyone would really get the point, "this amount of hate and rage doesn't amount to anything for or against anyone else."

Because Dad was fooled too; we remember him saying all he wanted to give us was an "I'll-show-you," attitude and drive.

So we hear all the time in movies and from guys pretending they're in a movie, the famous line, "I will piss on your grave."

But before we go and do that heroic act, we're going to point out the thing that made us most angry in the "anger management," classes was the fact that everything the instructors were talking about had to be done in the here and now.  

We didn't want to hear that.. we wanted the anger problem to be dealt with and done with.  And whose bright idea was it to decide what we need to do is overlook the fact we just got bent over and royally fucked up the ass?  That instruction most definitely came out of the royalty.  I mean, how disheartening can it be to have your whole indoctrination into truth and honor, the absolute conditioning in loving the truth, or the "goodness of 'God,'" above all things.. to see the same guy that told you all this.. the guy that held your perfect trust.. break it in half, and say, in effect, it is of no value to the Head of all you.. and needs to be discarded.. details details details.. the devil is in the details.. better to forgive than be forgiven.. oh, brother.. we got a million of 'em.

And such is probably the whole problem of being the author of our own identity.. the here and now doesn't give a fuck.

Fortunately we do see a correlation between THE POWER OF NOW, (the power of the here and now), or the practice of living in the here and now, and the whole "turning it over," thing in A.A.  How unhappy, but what the fuck.. this big thing that everybody keeps saying we gotta "die," to.. the only thing anybody can really say, or ask about it, with any possible assurance of hitting the mark is, "how can anything that fucking incomprehensible have a name?"  And it really isn't like we're trying to get people to come along with us.. we know it's something everybody has to decide to do, then do, perfectly alone.. who can shuck off their whole life story?  And then go out into the world of bullshit.  Is this some desperate measure, like a we-don't-give-a-fuck-anymore thing, only to take up the give-a-fuck thing a few minutes later?  Gah.. we just want a record that fits the thing that actually happened for once.

IF ONE MAN'S SENSE OF JUSTICE IS ANOTHER'S UNQUENCHABLE THIRST FOR VENGENCE THAT DAY
^{Monday 12 February 2024}

WE CAN'T HELP BUT THINK that the best way to become the real "author," of our own life is to realize our fiction is no worse or better than anyone else's.. if the only real difference is upon whose head the actions of the plot take their toll.. if we can figure out who the real "judge," of all that is.. or how something as ridiculous as "justice-for-the-dead," (for example), should be understood.. at least then we could get on to the more important examples of being fooled into thinking things like how happy we'll be to be dead and can watch, like on a big wall-screen sized TV, all the assholes out there getting punished and burnt up in Hell for the rest of eternity..  or what about the, what is it, eighteen virgins or something, waiting for us on the other side.. (for a small fee of course).. if we want to consider some seriously meaningful or life-changing fiction.

It only matters, of course, if the judge is us.. and we are fair and honest and know for real how the brain cannot but keep a good record of things.. which is why we have heroin.

***

OH MY GOD FAMOUS quotes of authors or their own lives, what's her name.. "Arias?"  Joni loves Chachi Arias or some shit..

"...yes, I told lies but that doesn't make me a liar.." 

Pretty sure we saw this girl saying something like this in an after-sentencing interview.. after getting life.. she talks about not getting the death penalty because her hair can be harvested and turned into wigs.. for people with cancer of course.. what do you think, Barbie Dolls?  Well.. we were thinking Barbie Dolls.. we ain't gonna lie.

TRUDGE THE ROAD TO HAPPY DUSTINATION
^{Sunday 11 February 2024}

WE DON'T KNOW WHY anybody would want to think any different of some "american dream," than they would some psychopath out there wanting to make his fantasies into realities.. if people can't see any irony in Ted Bundy's last wish being that he gets to keep the notion that somebody out there still likes him for the social good he done pointing out the evils of pornography.. if there's any difference in Bill Wilson creating another institution on the shared fantasy of sobriety being had by the power of "God," alone.. (denying the will involved).. "lest we become boastful!"  (yet proclaiming "you gotta work the program," which is such a glaring contradiction of ideas; working on our "character defects," is quite pointless if only "God," can remove them).  There's an old Eastern sort of idea that runs sort of like, "if something you are doing is making you feel ashamed, stop doing it."

We'll tell you what we'd like to find and that's an institution that didn't need to pass a fucking hat around for donations.. apparently your soul ain't quite enough.. and that's only if your soul ever makes it to the surface of your fucking body.. or it's sitting in there waiting for the right time.. it might need some polish and a spit shine.. take it through the dance steps a few more times before she's got to get out there on stage.. 

We like the idea that every, (or any at all), significant thing a man can do on this planet he'll have to do by his own self, (if he owns it), but that he doesn't have to be the only one doing it.  All this value of "accountability," nonsense.. more shared fantasy masquerading as intimacy.. like, okay, I promised to pay my bills but I need you to come and collect them.. there's a whole lot of clubs out there masquerading as healthy communities.. but how is the ground tilled and made ready for the seeds?  If a fish can only grow to the size of the bowl.. or a plant to its pot.. anything even remotely outside of that shared fantasy is going to need to be lopped off and discarded.. so, you better get those dance steps down before you go in to the big ball.. we probably ain't gonna need too much of your personal here and now.. we need you to be striving toward what you think we got for you.

FUCKING MONK'YING SOCIETY
^{Thursday 8 February 2024}

IF WE ARE SHOOTING FOR SOME sort of global spike in greater "consciousness," or awareness or group decision to prefer the feminine.. if not everybody is going to go along of their own volition.. it might be that they've never experienced an opportunity to engage with their own volition.. if we don't tell the kids the truth and let them decide for themselves.. we got nobody to blame.. no sense of obligation from without has ever produced anything but a show of loyalty, which certainly suffices in the short run, but it is just a branch of the shared-fantasy.. all this talk of "disenfranchisement," and what is this, the taking away of any shared-fantasy of ownership?  If we've learned nothing from history, we'd say, the whole "innocent-until-proven-guilty," farce is a fiasco.. if the kids ain't buying into your fantasy.. can you really blame them?  And it is a hundred issues culminating like molecules in the sea.. where pollutions compete for more space.. can the cell never be completely clean again?  We are convinced of the laying-down-of-power principle that the truth demands; every decision will be left to public opinion and this is why we fight for the "franchisement," of public opinion.. if it equals power.. we all know.. and nobody runs on the innocent-until-proven-otherwise thing, nobody really approaches an offense that way.. and it's proven itself impotent to create any real change in the flourishing crop of people strewn about.. the franchisement of the shared fantasy.. and who has the fucking energy or will to chase criminals around all day long except some warped cop on the beat.. we all seen these guys.. all strung out on cigars and cool hats.. glorying a minute over cases "solved," when, in reality, a crime is only solved when it never happens again to anyone else.. parents, however, are the most loyal to the shared fantasy of their own.. the "sacrifices," made, to the family, and need to be paid in full.. when, this is not even the definition of "sacrifice."  

What makes a kid abandon the practice of "lying-until-you-get-caught," and strive for a greater vision?  It's the sense of power, and worse, the belief that power is necessary.. that public opinion can be owned.. but the truthful know the truth.. this is the real pain involved in the change.. the metamorphosis.. the death of the worm and birth of the butterfly.. you gotta leave all the worms behind.

We are debating the choice to engage with a proven liar.. kind of sorrowful she has no trust.. what to do when the inevitable happens.. when in weakness she spurts out some obvious horseshit.. do we laugh when it's "harmless," and kid-like.. do we take it as "disrespect," or an affront to our... (franchise)... our little fantasy of power.. the unconscious and surging impulse to produce a feeling in somebody else.. the right feeling.. a self-sustaining, self-protective, self-empowering feeling.. and then only puff... we never gave them the real "us," to feel any way at all about.. as if the deepest part of any pure heart couldn't see right through us.. we must have preferred their pity, as disgusting as that is.. but self-sacrifice is only temporary.. it's a phase.. and it can be beaten out of a kid.. but what will be his tactic for survival after that.. this is the real question.. 

And so.. yes.. forgiveness.. letting go.. and loving anyway.. be a sap.. tell the truth.. and let the chips fall where they may.

***

LET'S SAY THAT WE'RE NOT so hard on the boys' clubs of america.. the bachelor clubs.. all the guys that can't be king, if the alternative is to be a woman, or to embrace, (possibly amplify or feed), the "feminine," power inside.. utilize.. if the king's got no stomach for the locker room.. there's still got to be the contest.. the adversary.. the rise and fall.. if we can just say farewell with grace.. freely and wholly.. (without reservation)...

We gotta ask ourself if we really think there's something better, or something else at all, and take the answer.  This idea of "God," you'd think, might work once in a while and not lead to another Jim Jones affair, (we mean, holy christ, if fucking Keith fucking Raniere can do it.. we really are fucked).. but there is no "Buddhist," equivalent of the american horror cult.. not that we can point to off the top of our head anyway...

Probably if we can't recognize "Christianity," as a shared fantasy thing we are in just as much trouble.. or regard it as unnecessary now, as Raniere proved out.. all you need is an "american-dream," shared fantasy now.. and not even american.. a world-order scheme.. but are we always going to need a main monkey.. a contest.. and always always worse than that, some little savior group of unhappy bachelors with concealed knives...

Certainly Brutus was the heartache.. the absolute crusher.. we don't know; we'd have to go back and re-evaluate the story.. did Ceasar actually become too powerful.. was rome in danger.. (was it ever not).. we could probably learn something from the fact that George Washington never wanted to be king.. happy to be first general.. the second.. but the unhappy bachelor monkeys needed a unanimous "blood," pact...

When the king is good the people are happy.. but we don't have that anymore, and nothing even close to that.. we don't have a top guy to make the final decision.. the children want one.. the maga morons.. willing to overlook the original boys' club of slave owning teenagers who told big daddy britain to go blow his self.. some forgotten king.. experience would say it is the whole, "laying-down-of-power," thing that works...

We ain't got time for that but what else we got?  The problem is more like, you spend enough time thinking about time and you're going to want to get the fuck out of here.. free of time and the idea of time.. here it comes again and it's never going away.. here's you again with your little pimple face.. here's the fucking dog stinking and looking all mangy.. another sink of dishes.. another cheating cunt.. another shared fantasy caputte...

There is no conclusion in the end.. hey, we're back.. just another face and another name.. used to be superstition, now it's science.. well, you know, it really is all on you, you know, if you don't genuinely believe it then it's not going to happen, we'd say, otherwise we'd have seen Jesus flying down to earth out of the clouds by now.. maybe if even one person whole-heartedly believed that crap for a second.. obviously, none of us really does.

JUMP ON TOMORROW
^{Tuesday 6 February 2024}

WE ARE TAKING A MOMENT to go look at someone else's work, (Tom Insalaco - "professor," we suppose, of painting.. if all college teachers are professors), we credit Tom with much influence in our life, primarily painting of course, but also in the mystery of life overall; it was really the group of Art professors that was so impactful.. the profound differences in temperament, personality, ambition.. because we learned about seven things there that make their way into every piece of work we do.

LOOK AND REMEMBER by Thomas Insalaco
^{dimensions unknown, (screenshot), we're going to guess oil on canvas}

WHAT SEEMS TO US a dedication to the twin towers demolitions, (never forgetting building seven), we were struck most by the obvious "BS," that Tom, (that's Tom all over the place), is looking at.  We won't speculate on any deeper meaning.. we just wanted to remember something Tom said to us, and record it here.

Back then we had one idea for painting in our life and "future," and that was serious "master," type oil painting.. nothing "less," than that would do, we thought.  We can only imagine what Tom thought of us, but, we think he saw real talent, (Tom gave me a great compliment on my first painting, he said, "boy, you can really push that stuff around").. and this is no dedication, as if to say that I am only so great because Tom was so great.. every kid is going to have his own universe of variables and experiences maturing.. if he matures.. we're more than happy to have some really crucial memories, this being possibly the all time greatest:

We did a lot of complaining as a young man and to a lot of really nice people who were nice enough to listen for a minute, so one day I was telling Tom I had no idea in the world what all "abstract," art was about.. just a bunch of color patches, randomly, haphazardly.. (one guy fills his rectum with paint and sprays it out on a canvas in a big "shart," which has some irony to it.. no.. I mean it.. look it up).. because, other than the "era," we couldn't see the significance of a Jackson Pollock painting.. (in the living room).. so I'm going on and on and Tom is listening.. actually I was complaining about the other art student who didn't kill themselves in the details.. to us the whole thing was about capturing the finest detail.. ever pushing for greater and greater success.. ("photo realism" was beginning then and we were like, "pshh.. cheating").. but Tom defended it all quietly.. with his expression, and finally, when we piped out, "anybody could do that," he finally said something we can never forget, and can only paraphrase now.. he said, "then you do it."  

Now.. we can't say we know exactly what Tom meant to express when he said this, we don't know how the reader will interpret it.. we know how we took it.. we imagined he was saying, shut up and try it.. see if you can do it.. and that idea has grown into such a world of a thing.. because, hey, what is "success," and how would anyone know if he or she had succeeded in being good at anything?  Because that is the exact issue.  For us at the time it was about being the most "mastered," that our hand had so mastered the materials.. what could commonly be thought of as "the best to ever pick up a brush," and of course, philosophically, it doesn't matter to us anymore.. it was our understanding at the time.. basically "you," do something over and over until you are really good at it.. and then.. (fill in the blank).

At any rate, what we are after now is something next.. we struggle to think, "where is anybody going to take two-dimensional Art now?"  And why bother?  We certainly can't claim to have the greatest thoughts in the world anymore; we are hoping to not lose what sanity we believe we have.. but the "oh-yeah-then-you-do-it," is a pretty great thought.

MARCH (pursuant to the BEAUTY NO ONE WILL EVER SEE series)
_{279 x 377 mm. (10 15/16 x 14 13/16 in.)  ink watercolor gouache and oil pastel on paper}

SOMEDAYS THERE IS ONLY ONE thing we can say about any particular piece of work we did.. (because at some point we just fall back to looking at it for a while, an hour, a few hours.. we just look and search every detail), the best we can come up with usually and always is, "well, the goddamned thing wasn't here a minute ago and now it is."

We have already gone on and on and on about the BEAUTY NO ONE WILL EVER SEE series of landscapes.. and it's rather embarrassing to suffer the need to justify and explain everything we do.. we remember so sheepishly showing Tom a painting we did at home.. it was the something belonging to THE DANNY SHERBET series of portraits.. Tom didn't seem too thrilled.  

WHY THERE'S NO GIRLS AT THE CIRCLE JERK
^{Monday 5 February 2024}

IT'S A GREAT MYSTERY WE can leave alone.. it's enough we gotta try and meditate with the ringing in the ears and no coffee, we'd say.. in our latest attempts to not go insane anymore we are wondering about this big re-connection to the "one and all," or the "divine consciousness," or whatever, thinking, Jesus, can the kids make it any harder?

It was suggested that we wake up and go inside and feel the energy thing in the body, notice the thoughts, let them flow.. let the energy flow in and on.. or through and out.. or whatever it is that's going on.. "watching," and being conscious.. and then, we suppose, get the fuck out of bed and go and make a pot of coffee and drink some as quick as possible.  

Yes, we're fucking around; it's in our good nature.. or at least the preferrable side of our nature.. we're still a full-blown drug addict and there's no getting around that.. it's a pretty good bet meditation wasn't the first thought flowing in our mind when we woke up.. but on the good side ole EEKHEART says it's only natural to long for our "other half," and we take some comfort in that much.. and we like his opinion on the whole self-denial piece, mortification of the body, and such, (we're lucky to have been born into the generation that has slipped off that coat anyway); if it's still the whole "what-to-do-with-the-cock," question we see in our face.. it's probably better than a cock in the face for real.. and maybe it's just that we never got over the trauma of being taught it's okay for boys to learn how to jerk off in the relative safety provided by a circle.. of friends.. probably the roundness of the moon isn't going to answer that one for us either.. probably the problem is we don't want to look like Eckhart Tolle on stage.

And maybe we're disappointed he's on a stage now, in an armchair.. if his giggle wasn't so creepy, maybe.. that whole eternal essence thing is still a bit far out for confidence.. flat out yes; the mind, (or brain), is not at all capable of forming a rational "identity," and it makes too much sense to think the brain is going to naturally revolt against anything that threatens it's existence, I mean, we've gotten to the point of self-awareness to see the fear of abandoning our self, (as constructed by that brain); we see the possession involved.. the "mine," and the "I'll never let go," thing.. and it's the same abandonment necessary to depart with some dignity and grace.. it's the same old idea we gotta keep returning to this rotten place until we get it right that is too tough to swallow.. except that there really never was a "me," to begin with.. until we began it.. and this is a pretty far out feeling.. that this great "God," we keep having shoved down our throat, really was false and of our own creation.. making sense of the jealousy of the beast.

And not God.. for, how is "jealousy," to appear on both sides of the coin?  That would wreck the whole good rule and law.

Where do friends come in we're wondering.. I mean, as we're going inside there and noticing the energy floating around in there, it's funny and not all that funny the peculiar buzz right around the cock area.. of course that's us.. we're still the child in the matter.. how much of this is beast and how much is the longing for our other divine half.. you know, the good thing.. somehow we know the cock, if it ain't bad, at least ain't coming with us when we go.. because we really can't escape the question of whether or not this "consciousness," of the self goes with us when we go.. the memory of the self, one would reason, certainly cannot.. if there is no brain to connect the wires.. wouldn't there be at least a little sure evidence we all lived before.. or is this just another thing we can blame on the kids?  -in the sense, well, it's our own un-enlightenment that keeps us from remembering; sure enlightenment would allow us to see all, and "God," too.. it's got to be the drug damage.

But right now we gotta figure out what to do about our commitment to our little particular "group," the Monday Morning Discussion meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous we promised to see never dies.. basically.. I mean, that was our idea when we committed to the coffee-maker part.. (because we quit that last week.. we'd had it with people.. basically, pretty much hithertofore enough secret gossip about the amount of drug-taking in A.A. had escaped our awareness.. and really, why are we going to hope that somebody on drugs can lead us to a drug-free life?  Our outrage was massive).. we told the circle of friends, (actually at that point it amounted to one lady and me.. when I asked her if she had a book to sign, whereby we can officially join the Monday Morning Discussion Group, she looked at me a bit bemused and said, "we're it").. and it's not as if we had enough on our hands without the whole New York State legalization of marijuana to think about.. we had a guy here in town, if the reader wants the whole story.. he was something of a "character," (in old English), or what we would call a real "personality," (disorder), I committed to making sure the meeting never dies.. that little group of me and her.. now.. basically a fucking crab.. "dry drunk," and crook-eye.. you know, one of those guys you gotta look at between the eyes because you don't know which one can still make out forms.. he died.. (a real legend in the anals of AA around here), and we found out after that he's been smoking large quantities of pot the whole time.. and people still quote him.. which is fine, we suppose, if he had shared his experience, strength and hope.. so to speak.. you know.. in answer to the question in every alcoholic's mind, "how exactly did you quit drinking;" we'd have liked to hear him say, "well, we get stoned everyday."  Now that Monday Morning group is growing and flourishing again, enough to split into two tables, well, our work is not needed.

Because, of course, we are the big tight ass around here that doesn't believe in doing drugs.

Except that what is interesting to us is the whole "passivity," inherent in the going inside and not taking up any more battles that involve other people thing.. this whole big "self," thing.. connecting to "God," in a real way.. even as Eckhart quotes Jesus.. go quietly to the cross.. all that's got to be a bit easier when you got all your fat cells saturated with THC.. smoke away your ambition.. eat some potato chips.. embrace your apathy and detachment.. and maybe so.. maybe do that without a TV and a phone and we'll be impressed.

And we really don't have time to fill the reader in on every detail of what happened to the Monday Morning thing in quick order.. if he can be satisfied with a "sufficification," we'd say, a small group of mental health "medication," eaters moved in and do all the talking now.. it's just beyond heartbreaking.

GETTING DOWN TO BUSINESS
^{Sunday 4 February 2024}

OKAY KIDS WE ARE NEEDING to get down to business.. again.  This is kind of a common place we are finding our self in all along the way.. these commitments and things.. our home here in particular.. the portfolio is screaming for attention, for example.. and we are off trying to absorb THE POWER OF NOW in our sleep.. we gotta say, you know, this might not be the place to go for a daily meditation of any value.. the reader should think of it  more as a long build up or set up for a punchline long off later down the road to a joke we haven't written yet.. meaning we gotta get the audience on our side and comfortably seated in the train of thought and we don't know how long that will take.

Pretty simply, we've seen just about every "career," or line of work that every interested us, ("bush pilot," for example), come crashing out of the sky in a big ball of flames and sparks.. and it just occurred to us that we should work in the "bush," angle.. except, honestly, ("dude," my friend would say), dude.. we can't go into the real bush again.. we can't even imagine it.. we did okay as a navigator, you know, on and off.. in the most purely physical material sense.. we learned how to make the thing work.. sparks and flames aside.. sometimes.. honest to god.. but.. any serious look into flying a little ragged actual airplane around the mountains of Canada made us think of John Denver.

And no thanks.. we knew we'd be drunker that John before we ever pulled out onto the runway, and wouldn't have given a fuck if everybody said, no way, go sleep it off, John; we'd have taken that baby out the back door and tried to take off out of the parking lot.. but as this relates to getting back down to business around here, again, well.. our body is still screaming for a fix.. we maybe don't want to admit this, and we are even pushing our self to call it a "fix," instead of a "solution," as it relates to our just debunked "friendship," theory of establishing contact with a "higher power," which, is a really dismal thing because none of it is yielding any sort of concrete, trustable, or new results.

We are basically the same kid we always were.  There is no denying this wonderful mystery.  We still fly out of bed like a rocket.. feeling we can conquer the world.. (we imagine, and not to use an old expression).. pretty much up until it's time to go conquer the world.  And I mean, we can go one by one through the various jobs and careers open to us out there.. we keep hearing about how the "economy," is scratching back and climbing some horseshit trail.. just absolutely the fucking word, "economy," makes us want to saw our head off.. but, luckily, we are getting hungry and that's a thing we can really sink our teeth into.. we know we're going to do something sometime today.

KEEP IT HOLY
^{Saturday 3 February 2024}

PROBABLY ONE OF THE MOST PEACEFUL mornings of my life.. or at least a sense of being we have not enjoyed on a long time.. there is no way to describe today without ruining it, we think.. better to move along.. but it is worth noting the moon is about half-full, or half-empty, depending on who you talk to.  We had a friend say recently that they loved the moon for her refusal to be photographed, we suppose this friend meant by a cell phone since we've seen so many wonderful photos of the moon over the years.. but we liked that as it related to our own vain attempts to capture the moon when it was so beautiful in the sky.. we could probably scroll back through the facebook thing and recapture the post and republish it here.. but this lends itself to the idea that it's really only the translation of wisdom that is altogether important around here..

We gave THE POWER OF NOW another listen, stayed awake through a greater portion of it, and have more hope and more than that focus.. a direction, or purpose, or something.. and just as all the relationships we've been maintaining in ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS seem to be breaking down or disintegrating.. we are batting around the idea we are again slipping into our old "psychosis," and should probably run out for some help.. maybe down to Tops Friendly Market.. we don't know if our "confidence," this morning is real, or should be expected to be long-lasting, we don't want to take too much time analyzing the thing.. we figure one or the other; if it is a product of our "mental illness," or accumulative "healing," you know, any guiding or misguiding to emerge from the thing will be seen in the children produced from it.. 

A GOOD MIX
^{Friday 2 February 2024}

_{WORDS TO SLEEP ON}*
^{screenshot and link}

WE ARE HOPING THE BETTER PART of this thing sunk in as we slept through it.. kind of like life in these blessed states.

*we are liking the inclusion of Jesus into the whole eastern thing in a way superior to our own.. what is asia after all, like, in the middle of the east and the west?  Yeah yeah yeah man.. good stuff.

LIVING HERO
^{Thursday 1 February 2024}

Journalist Whitney Webb*
^{screenshot and link}

We couldn't find one single flaw.. possibly the lipstick was put on to suggest a fatter upper lip, but hey.. what is flowing out of her mind, via that mouth.. undeniably the cream of the crop.

*WARNING WILL ROBINATION: we're probably always going to have to suffer some billy buck beck in the thing.. some christian douchebag has to further his own agenda.. push for boy's-club-nationalism.. suck some big sponsor-cock in front of us.. and pretty much wreck the mood.. but, hey, you know you can't have one without the other, so.. which is the bad guy, we gotta ask, "love," or "marriage?"

^{Tuesday 30 January 2024}

I AND THE GHOSTS DO NOT EXPECT any lazified "American," to gladly take any stance against what is obvious in our eyes a government sponsored corporate take-over of the greater public psyche simply because it requires a retrieval of the individual psyche and there is no money in it.

MONDAYS FUCKING MOTHER-FUCKING SUCK
^{Monday 29 January 2024}

fuck the world like you don't want to know her name and then jump out of the pan and right back in the flame just once because you don't have to see her again on top or bottom in back or in front or maybe side by side.. if her only satisfaction was being left unsatisfied

***

Fuck your new football religion.. follow those stars.. such a finely scripted fantasy share.. worth all your pennies and more.. and christ, can't we come up with something more creative to represent the evil around here other than going out and murdering a handful of anonymous people in public and stop thinking the good is arguing over gun safety.. can't we ever grow up as a group.. maybe if we just shoot for getting out of adolescence with some self respect..

Yeah.. mondays just plain suck cock and for nothing since we are disabled and don't have to work anymore.. and of course we are not properly grateful there's more wage-earning-slavery to pick from now.. we never were.. we didn't even have to know what it was; we just went mad by feeling alone.. doesn't have to make any sense now if it never did; it's more rational to expect it never will.. we think.. and our friend is choosing mindlessness.. 

It's the "zipless fuck," (google it fuckface), all over again.. every day.. we saw it way way way way way way back then.

NO TIME LEFT FOR YOU
^{Sunday 28 January 2024}

NOT REALLY JUST JOKING AROUND here.. (but I wouldn't call it "unjust joking" either).. we are just too taxed to spread our self about too many keyboards at the momentary morning of our mind.. we'd like to sit down with Sam Vaknin and see what happens.. but for now we will just leave a copy of our comment and leave it at that; we have a special appointment to begin work on a real work, (in the oil paint medium), and cannot blow our whole load here.. this whole business of "self-mastery," well, we gotta admit, or ask, where would we be without it?  This mastering of the environmental "threats," to our puny and omni-something, (at least to our own mind), flailing arms and legs.. the threat, we can iterate again and again, is probably not the brown hoards, poised at your boundary, coiled to sink their teeth into your little suburban-communal-fantasy.. but what do we know?

_{screenshot - youtube}

Yeah we love Sam.. sam I am.. the ham and the spam of it.. the horror.. the horror.. the horror.. 

Good to be a little excited but not getting excited, ("checked," rather, by the "don't-get-excited" ghost).. the girl we love has a vagina after all.. the only plus side is, she doesn't want the responsibility of having to face having given it to us and we don't want to have to face the responsibility for having taken it.. but if she goes for the pants.. (oh, pant o mine).. well.. what are you gonna do?

^{Saturn Day 27 January 2024}

THERE IS AN ECLYPSE HAPPENING NOW.. somewhere...

^screenshot

We can remember being introduced to a science fiction short story way back in grammar school about a little girl who got locked in a closet during an eclipse.. the point being so much was made of the eclipse on whatever planet she lived because it happened so infrequently.. making the event a "once-in-a-lifetime," thing.. and she missed it because her peers were such assholes.  

No significant number coincidences for us personally.. (birthday number 64 occurring the day before is of no superstitious value).. projected of course, everything is projected now-a-days.. onto the big screen in our head.. even our self.. poor old dipshit western new york hasn't had that happen since 1925.. the eclipse traveling directly over its fucking head.. which is where we are projected to be.. is the point.

PROFESSOR SAM VAKNIN
^{screenshot and link}

Not one of Sam's better shots.. or attempts.. or offerings.. or submissions.. in fact we might better change the link to take the listener to the piece, (of him?).. that got our attention in the first place; we liked his take on the whole "narcissism," fad thing now sweeping the country.. (even more better and faster than THE CLACKER).  I mean if you want to talk about a guy more conditioned-to-annihilate-his-self-so-we-don't-have-to worse than me.. Sam is your man.  We want to ask him if he's kidding with this hollywood-glossy-only-in-color knock off thing; what's he want.. well, other than to end the hell he is in.. but we kind of know.. nothing is ever good enough and that's why you gotta keep doing it until you're dead.

Well, we should like to give Sam Vaknin the time and attention he.. deserves, wants, never got, needs.. (ill in the blank).. but we have our own work and lives to attend to.. we'll say, "hats off," and move along.

Who exactly wrote, "I AM A JEALOUS GOD," precisely, and was it Moses, and the jealousy of Ramses, (if the Egyptian princes thought their selfs "gods").. and do we need to wonder about this phrase.. in terms of a directive or principle we want to adopt in regards to the friendships we are attempting to maintain?  -we don't even know if the question mark is proper.. is "he," (capital "H"), also lustful and greedy.. and all the rest of the super seven more "deadly," things?  We think it is only logical that man's first attempts at science would include the fantasy/speculation of "demon-possession," of all "good," and "evil," incomprehensible, indefensible, (and otherwise perversely enjoyable), states of being.. "it was not me," and the whole "he's not himself," defense.  

We're just fucking around.  We should be fucking around with ink and paint and real material and we are going to in a few minutes, but we have to consider the weak and strong waves that define this sea of life.. and ask do we drift, swim.. or "walk," (on the waters)?  I mean, you really gotta give it to Jesus.. in the end, or up to now.. we want to be the mouthpiece of Jesus.. what is that, the lawyer.. in our own personal encounter with him.. we could tell the reader that Jesus came into our office.. said something about wanting a divorce from his beloved bride.. (already).. or some annulment.. and damages.. or the damages were our idea.. we are wondering what he can get in the settlement.. if we could prove the infidelity of his whoring cunt church.. we gotta imagine he's a little heartbroken but.. is it worth any money to us.. the aggravation involved.. and who will the church hire to represent its interests.. holy christ, they could drag this thing out for a couple of thousand years or better.. yeah.. better to just go fuck around with some paint.

***

^{How Narcissism Makes Sense to Narcissist (with Enkhbayar Jargalsaikhan and Lidija Rangelovska) (youtube.com)} 

JUST TO SAY THERE ARE GOOD THINGS happening in the world even when it seems so apparent there are not.. people still do very good things in spite of the ill nature of being alive.. is it that we only "fight against" the "evil," or that there is a "feminine," pole.. equal.. and ever..

Because it seems to us we all want to return to that spontaneous expression of being even if we wouldn't remember it after.

^{Thursday 25 January 2024}

IS THERE A PERSON ALIVE that does not have to grapple with the two selfs, (the "public," and the "private")?  

For us this is the end of the conversation and enough for everyone to meditate on and answer for his own.. "selves."

The distance, rather, between the two is the only "self-determination," that has any real social value.. we'd say.

This thing we deem "self-determination," may be the only real determiner of society or social structure.. you know, the kids might be right in their insistence we create our world, metaphysically, (with our mind), but the whole thing might boil down to the how and the why of each of our spending time alone.. we each must spend time alone in our head.. but with the ghosts.  We are never alone.

I mean to the point we don't know or trust our "self," anymore, the screaming inside.. deafening.. the darkness.. against the light.. (we might muse about the possibility of a "blinding," light, but, maybe another time).. for now, we suppose, it's enough to look at the value of true crime.. if we could only get some; the true-crime genre of modern fiction.. we still think these stories on TV are real.

It is this insistence that anybody who rejects the "wage-earner," sort of slavery around here is a criminal.. so, in that light, yeah, every man could feel of himself he is fucked up unless he is a woman.. meaning any "masculine," properties will cause him to hate every thing that even hints at the dominance of another man over him.. and who can love "industrialization," except the person/corporation.

If we wanted to get "political," we could remove the laws the grant corporations the "rights," of individual people.. but our "governments," and government tentacles neither honor nor enforce contracts.. (the main thing they are created to do).. nobody can have domain under those circumstances.. their own "market," would crush them.. as nobody can stand for dirty dealing against their self.

But we have been dwelling all week on the notion that a man must become his own hero if he is live in peace on any substantial plane.. "substantiative?" (as a noun).. oh we have all sorts of adjectives as nouns around here.. the invisible qualities are always the most material.. the hero being the best example.. the private self against the public one is the only war worthy of our rage to fight.

YOUTUBE MONDAY
^{Monday 22 January 2024}

_{screenshot - liveabusefree}

NOT THAT TOO MUCH more has to be said about the source of "narcissism," being, or must absolutely mustest have to be, outside of us.. or has to be, or what are we gonna do!!!  Jesus.. the bible haters can look up, "better to go into the house of mourning than that of the revelers," or better to be rebuked by a friend than praised by a fool.. 

"Moral Character," has to be a choice, or self-initiated and created, "ethical," behavior, as a value, can be learned, (is the only point we want to make because we've proven it in our self).. "love," basically can be mastered, (in all its forms), and verily must be, or "hell and the devil," (for lack of a better scientific phraseology), will take over.  Physiology itself can be a hell, personal responsibility for an organism as potentially dangerous as any human being.. so.. have a nice day.

DON'T KNOW WHERE YESTERDAY WENT
^{Saturday 20 January 2024}

IT IS THE PASSION FOR THEE.. legacy.. now.. the imagined value of the self.. but alas.. only the "market value," anymore.

Or, perhaps.. we can't just resign our self to some notion that there is no more maybe, (as a noun), any more than we can be so sure there isn't.. when Dad became an object.. that's a good piece of literature that will never be written.. maybe the "Song of Moses," would be worth looking up and really giving some time to.. the general story being Moses was not allowed into the "promised land," (because of some transgression), after all that leading everybody there.. there's probably a great lesson in that "many-will-come-in-my-name," thing, but screw that.

But now that our head is full of crap.. meaning all this reading we've done.. has it done enough to make people people again, and not just objects on the earth.. probably because we all know deep down we're going away and we ain't coming back.. (we don't know who would want to ourself); if not too many of us can handle the notion we ain't going someplace else after here either.. as "it is written," the "death-where-is-thy-sting," thing.. we should go back maybe too and see what that's all about.. what took the sting out of it for that guy, but screw that.

Yeah, we gotta ride this fucking horse out, we think.. dismal and not too attractive to anybody else either.. this pure individuation of us.. the committee of ghosts.. bugga-bugga-bugga-boo.  Ah.. we did hear a good theory yesterday off a documentary about the Dead Sea Scrolls; apparently there's no Christianity in them.. no mention of Jesus or any or them.. what.. a stone's throw away from where it all happened.. when it was happening.. anyway, there was some speculation perhaps John, (the "baptizer"), was actually kicked out of the community of Essenes, (who wrote the scrolls); from what we know about the severity of punishments for transgressions in place, (they didn't keep any record of who got kicked out maybe), it might be that John was doing penance, but his own thing at the same time.. meaning like a lot of "christian," fellowships that spring up all over the place.. the rejected guy goes off and takes a handful of douchebags with him.. only nobody was following John out.. he was "shunned," more or less.. "excommunicated," (it seems for some transgressions you could come back, but others no.. but you had to keep the rules out there, "outside the camp," meaning even though you're on the outs you still can't eat pork.. again, we can only speculate).. I mean, once you're outside you gotta ask yourself, "are those fuckers crazy or what?"

The point of our speculating is the ragged reporting of history.. you just can't get all the details and actually significant variables into the game.. nothing substantial or telling enough, (if there was substance, we would change, I mean.. like the personal change after "hitting bottom," is not going to happen unless it's the real bottom and not some other thing, like the wife leaving and wanting her back.. only maybe after a few years of her coming and going it might dawn on somebody that the source of the problem is not her unacceptability.. shoot.. we been replacing her all along until she's gone).. but not to get personal and lost again.. it's like mental illness though, you can't get all the variables together long enough to make a diagnosis.. you got fifteen minutes.

Only a good solid mature voice of a real living american hero is going to.. well.. be good for a while.. around here.

AIN'T WE GOT A STORY about a girl that breaks a horse just by being nice to it?
^{Thursday 18 January 2024}

MEN JUST GOTTA JUMP UP ON there and break that fucker as quick as possible.. the horse's "spirit," we're talking about.. quick conclusion, take your horse to "puppy school," (at least until there's one for our horse); until we make up a "baby school," around here.

***

WE HEARD INTIMACY CALLED "being intimate," but not in public school.  Exploring the possibility that it is in fact intimacy that is the primary social problem in the U.S.. we are quick to recall and inject one of our favorite coinages.. that of the "imposed intimacy," of marriage.  We got this from Bertrand Russel we believe.. and of course, we can't find the reference anywhere on bing or google.. we our self would like to take credit for the idea, as it relates to our series of bathroom landscapes we've begun to display in the portfolio.. the idea that this might be a beautiful place once man is extinct.. from the bathroom anyway.. we take care to keep the "figure," from our landscapes.. or only as suggested by a tree stump.

We think that there is much intimacy in a marriage when it simply can't be locked away anymore.. no burglar is denied forever.. we imagine the shy couple, groping excitedly, stupidly.. what thoughts we must conjure in the face of shame.. and such a longed for, tender thing, intimacy.. what a voilent, self-ending thing.

We encountered a girl who cannot recall being loved for nothing, or freely, just because.. it is a crushing image.  She may never again allow us, or anyone else, to love her.  She has just gotten free of an "abuser," and we know we know, society's big problem now is "narcissism," and "narcissistic abuse," which seems impossible for a man drowning in love for his self, but not so much his face.. in love with our face is something different, the possession, protection, lust and greed for, the sick oogling, and private property.. and all "saving," face.. and if only we our self were not hammered and bent by the same conditionings.. 

But her story is complicated by the birth of children.. what might have been an awakening to the real beauty of intimacy for her from the other side of the mother and child union.. if she cannot recall any good experience with being so "one," with another.. and "god-like," well, emerging from adolescence and finding herself in contract to a boy.. (we can only imagine the bathroom scenes).. the horrors of potty-training.. and aren't we supposed to be "grown," by now?

Some marriages we see "work," and can only envy or marvel at any successful navigations through the seas of all selfs...

We won't even mention the notion that many kids have confessed to looking at "porn," in some attempt to get educated about what sexual activity looks like, or worse, should look like.   All that dishes and toilet scrubbing and floors.. all that is an oasis.. but the uncovering of the most private parts.. the real introduction to humanity.. 

We are so profoundly exhausted there is no way to get this down in any fashionable way.. or separate the outer, societal ill, from our own.. the longing for a love.. the terror of being seen.. the expectation of being left alone.. again.. an again.. and another again..

Her sad marriage did not last.  And that there should never be another one is quite right.  We will certainly need to go into our nursing homes and really look.  We will have to retrieve our old.  We will have to confront the real manifest destiny.. manifest of out own hand.. our own design.. all the way back to china.. when the emperor was just the people were happy.. and no more.. we will have to determine the real emperor.. and of what.. (for us it is a simple thing to know exactly where and when and how and why we are no more.. but alas for you).

For us it is our own choice now to never again "switch horses midstream," or give up author-ship.. our self is too temporarily here and now to again fling off into the stream.. no matter how nice.. no matter how warm.. how cool and refreshing.. or hopeful.. 

And it is not our choice but the deepest scorching of bone.. the searing heat.. from inside.. if there is a quenching of that fire we should find it.. and from whence.. or whom.. 

I am an acorn and one of ten thousand.. I am that one.. I was.

SOCIOPATHY, "CHARACTER DEFECTS," YOU SAY "bananna," we say...
^{Wednesday 17 January 2024}

THAT BILL WILSON WAS SUCH a "character," hee hee hoo.. if anybody remembers when we used to call each other "characters," or "real characters," meaning maybe real douchebags.. in a nice way, (maybe in an attempt to soften the message, "yeah, you're funny, but you're tiring"); we don't know what we are calling each other now.. back then we had to distinguish between the characters and character.. (separating the noun from the perdictation preditition to the noun).. in those days we also used "character," to mean "integrity," and we absolutely had to separate people from that; we called the cocksuckers and sociopaths, "men of no character," for instance.. nothing helps.. I mean we certainly had to take integrity out of the equation, this plus this equals a character.. and succeeded.. but these words all sound like morality preaching..

Our theory is we've never known what we're doing, or what to do exactly, concerning each other, (we only can go on our particular household however, where we were children raising children in a less material way than a lot the poor do today, meaning actual children birthing children.. we more or less just found ourself in the house more or less alone one day.. waiting for dad to get home.. but this is not a play for personal sympathy; we want a broader sympathy for all children raising children).. so we brought in the word "personality," to clear everything up.  Maybe this makes character, or the character, more personal, since it contains the word "person," and less like a cartoon.. except we don't hear anybody say, "boy, you're a real personality," now, (when what they really want to say is, "you're a real personality disorder").. -the use of tactful communication, I mean.

I mean are movies better now that they are so "graphic?"  We don't think so.  Especially with Science, (capitalized), is telling us a picture produces the same course-of-chemicals-in-the-brain, (sorry we're not scientific enough to learn the words), to fire off as reality does.. moving pictures probably more so.. it's just like you're there.. now you got glasses you can wear.. any color you want.. (they don't look good from outside, sort of little-boy-spacemanish, but who cares about that).. we're getting off track.

But do we know where we're going?  Meaning is anybody capable of picking up on tact anymore?  Maybe back when we stupidly believed we were all on the "same side."  We were struck by the new religion, (football), the other day.. you know the good-natured king of the hill.. priestly thing.. (just before clicking onto YouTube -where we see some "news," suggested for you.. for the infliction of bad natured king of the hill when we're looking for some education).. where jimmy hoocares, the owner of one of the two "teams," was interviewed after the game, mainly because he lost, and it occurred to us that this has never happened possibly..

^{for the girls out there, we could explain:
 the particular team and owner we are talking about is very special, one for being known commonly as "america's team," and the other for being the owner of it.. but we don't know precisely which is which..} 

The overall opinion of the interview was, "he did good."  I mean, if we gave a shit about "sports," outside of our own house we'd know exactly why people thought jimmy wasn't his normal douchebag self.. and I'm sorry we're losing the train of thought here.. I think we had a mind to go into our own personal sociopathy and opening with a joke.. we figure pretty soon we'll just be using "sociopathy," when we mean "child."

You say sociopathy, we say character defect.. together we don't know shit so.. let's call the whole thing off...

^{Tuesday 16 January 2024}

Of all the eternal questions, we think one of the best and most maligned is, "what can a man pay to get back his soul?"  It is the implication and implied meaning we don't like, the "answer," if it is "nothing," or "never," when in fact Jesus was more of a mind that said, yeah, you going to have to pay and pay but good, "every last penny," in fact.. (before the collectors let you out of prison).. and we like the implication and implied meaning of this much more.. I mean, if there's something worth actually "taking possession of," in this lifetime, we would have to rank the "soul," right up there in the top ten someplace.

Not that we think we have all the answers.. (the "kingdom of God" is found between people, we think).. discussions, engagement with others, (over books and movies anyway), if nothing else, provides the opportunity to learn from mistakes and enjoy "hitting the mark," once in a while.  But we equate the "soul," with everyone's right now, since most of the crimes against the soul are committed because of speculations.. nobody "sells," his soul for the "now," (as a noun), in fact just the opposite, because he can't stand his now, which is the "state of his soul," already.. but is it a crime to be led to some real crime against the self by another Jim Jones?

This reaches to the question of "who owns our soul," and, unfortunately, much debate and confusion, but to us the answer is plain for all to see contained in the question of what can a man do, or pay, to "get his soul back," and we won't say like, "duh."  We think it's because the flying monkeys took some of your straw out of you arms and they threw it over there.. and then they took your legs and they threw them over there.. and that's you.. "all over the place."  So is it friends that feel for you and stuff you back together?  (until you are given a brain of your own).. we think somebody stole our "now," and put it out into the future, if the now is the only really eternal thing.. our eternity went with it.. 

LOSING YOUR MIND
^{Monday 15 January 2024}

IF WE HAVE TO CHOSE THAT is, for real, between losing ours or yours.. being so outnumbered here.. on a Moonday...

OUR PERSONAL YOUTUBE HISTORY A PORTION
^screenshot

You'll have to look these up yourself kids.. we don't have the will to provide links today.. we woke up a little discouraged.. 

***

EVERYBODY KNOWS WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE loved for nothing, none of us would be alive today if we had not been.. all this talk of the "divine child," and "God;" what we really want is to go back and re-experience that phase of life.. (we forget the bad parts).. and the "prophets," cry, "why do you long for the old days; don't you know these days are no different?"  

How to make the here and now hell.. (if not for your self -no willingness- then at least for everyone else).. make america great again?  I'm sorry.. I seem to have forgotten that time period when now was any different than now.. of course it's "me," it's got to be me.. a mental disease only I got.. every kid thinks his parents are fucked up because of him.. except he can't put his finger on how..

So he asks "why," instead.. why why why.. and no matter how many times people stop lying about the why.. we still ask..

But the toddler, the infant, the boy, the adolescent.. none of these has the ability to love for nothing.. to be "free," or let anybody else alone.. not unless we are wishing to see them in hell.. the hell of our not liking them anymore.. except she's out fucking the new brown kid.. we imagine she is skulking around her bedroom like us.. alone.. thinking about her.. 

Well.. she IS.. douchebag.. (thinking about her).. that's the beauty of women.. they are much better liars than we are.. hahahahahaha.. except that it is because they are much better at the truth.. that the truth makes us lie.. and more or less vice versa.. but let's get back to the inability to love for free.. that seems to be more at the heart of the issue than who's fucking whom.. ("whomb," rather).. 

Exactly how to make our life not a living hell is a good question.. but first we would have to come to grips with the good guess that a virtual hell is the only one that exists.. or at least for us.. in some heavenly hell there can't be our now body.. that one's either rotting in the ground or up in smoke.. scattered over mount everlast.. we don't know and we aren't going to know.. if we want an "ever after," I'd say that's a sure one.

^{Sunday 14 January 2024}

WE CERTAINLY WANT our work to be "relevant," if not our self forever.. in all this discussion of "identity," in the end it is as in the beginning, the person is known only from outside.. identity is only relevant to another.. what is left behind remains.. one's identity therefore resides in another, is created by another and belongs to another.. we were just thinking of this thing between piers morgan and madonna, which, is quite fitting in this discussion of demanding to be recognized as still relevant.. we can throw in "for nothing," if we want.. nobody needs to ask their self for I.D. though and we don't want to lose that awareness as it relates to the immediate now..

But this is also half-and-half just as one man's treasure is another's trash.. and it is just.. and it is forever after too.

No one sees it from outside and from inside in the same light.. 

But we are on to the action of "worship," as one of the famed "loves," of culture, (doesn't have to be the greeks), all man is culture, (or "cult"), reacting possibly to one or the other.. emersed in or escaping both.. culture is man, but worship and family love, the erotic trance, these must be balanced in man, the organism.. the single man and the collective man.. 

Bill Wilson was on to something in his notion that "worship," was a natural part of man's makeup but in the very same sentence recoiled against the shame of it as worship had played out in his own life.. in his rejection of "religion," and all it's spawn.. he described the realization as a "state of mental goose-flesh;" the whole idea of worship is repulsive.

Worship of the infant, (after 2000 years) we gotta have Ricky Bobby essplain it:

<sup>[Ricky] 'Dear Lord Baby Jesus, or as our brothers in the South call you: 'Hey-suz'. We thank you so much for this bountiful harvest of Dominos, KFC, and the always delicious Taco Bell. I just want to take time to say thank you for my family: my two beautiful, beautiful, handsome striking sons, Walker and Texas Ranger, or TR as we call him. And, of course, my red hot smokin' wife Carley, who is a stone cold fox, who if you would rate her ass on 100, it would easily be a 94. I also want to thank you for my best friend and teammate, Cal Naughton Jr, who's got my back no matter what...Dear Lord Baby Jesus, we also thank you for my wife's father Chip. We hope that you can use your Baby Jesus powers to heal him and his horrible leg. It smells terrible and the dogs are always botherin' with it. Dear Tiny Infant Jesus...'

[Carley] 'Hey, um... you know, sweetie, Jesus did grow up. You don't always have to call him baby. It's a bit odd and off puttin' to pray to a baby.'

[Ricky] 'Well, look, I like the Christmas Jesus best when I'm sayin' grace. When you say grace, you can say it to Grown-up Jesus, or Teenage Jesus, or Bearded Jesus, or whoever you want.'

[Carley] 'You know what I want? I want you to do this grace good so that God will let us win tomorrow.'

[Ricky] 'Dear Tiny Jesus, in your golden fleece diapers with your tiny, little fat balled up fists...Look, I like the baby version the best, do you hear me? I win the races and I get the money.'

[Carley] 'Ricky, finish the damn grace!'...

[Ricky] 'OK. Dear Eight Pound, Six Ounce, Newborn Infant Jesus, don't even know a word yet, just a little infant, so cuddly, but still omnipotent. We just thank you for all the races I've won and the $21.2 million dollars... LOVE THAT MONEY that I have accrued over this past season. Also due to a binding endorsement contract that stipulates I mention PowerAde at each grace, I just wanna say that PowerAde is delicious and it cools you off on a hot summer day and we look forward to PowerAde's release of mystic mountain blueberry. Thank you, for all your power and your grace, Dear Baby God, Amen.'

[Cal] I like to picture Jesus in a Tuxedo T-shirt, 'cause it says, like, 'I wanna be formal, but I'm here to party, too.' I like to party, so I like my Jesus to party.... I like to think of Jesus like, with giant eagles' wings and singin' lead vocals for Lynyrd Skynyrd with like an Angel Band, and I'm in the front row, and I'm hammered drunk...</sup>

We always thought that if we were going to write seriously and had to pick a "genre," we would go with the bible because it is in a league of its own.. or not.. maybe encompassing all and none.. like, not quite fact, not quite history, not quite pure fantasy.. and it's got everything you can do with a block of text.. song.. wisdom.. philosophy.. fable.. metaphor/parable/simile.. and jesus.. you got jesus.. and what more can you want?

We are thinking humor maybe, maybe a joke or two, (we've never seen anyone read scripture and then burst out laughing).

And of course we want to suggest things that have never been suggested, not necessarily for posterity, or money, but just for a brief sense of relevance.. give some credibility to being an "artist," since it really sucks.. from the inside, we mean, you know, like the shit settled life.. has its perks.. that needs quotation marks, "life," as a noun of personal possession, (the private property thing again, I'm sorry), as described from someone it doesn't belong to.. what's most curious is the coincidence that my step brother's name was Robert.. and of the crowd of kids, he and I were kind of identified, (at least to our estimation), as something of potential heroes in the thing.. occupied the glory seats in a way.. but it's just our imagination now.. Bobby and Ricky.. (being the point).. and that family's insistence that stock car racing was right up there around the most relevant thing in life.  Not that "reconciliation," is out of the question, but, we seen some hot sauce over there in the grocery store with their name on it, so, in keeping with the Sybil-Rash breakout phantominon that grips a culture now and then around here, we are not going to mention Bobby's last name in real life either.. (in keeping with the movie).. so as not to create a run on their hot sauce.. even if the people putting it out are not related, we'd still like to know the name was completely erased from history, like the egyptians do, but before man goes extinct, meaning when everybody else is doing it.. (being erased).

We know that this is where the blinders slam shut, the headphones go back on.. society starts rubbing its pee pee..

So we were going to explore idolatry.. (that ought to bring a few back).. as worship of the infant in the household..

But the worship of the self as an infant in the teenage stage of development with the wisdom of an old man too..

It's like you got to say this shit all fucked up and skewy even to yourself because otherwise you won't see it anymore.. puff.. this warning against "idolatry," and the rampantness of it.. and it's always the person's fault.. in the books of kings and samuels.. the king turns away to worshiping idols.. then the samuel has to remind him, "well, I told you picking a king was a mistake;" meanwhile the people grow ever more irrelevant.. they become a big noun.. all bunched together.. and what the fuck man.. what's the big "I AM," got to do with me?

But lastly today we have to get down the notion that freedom and lawlessness are the same thing and how are we going to fault a man for being either one.. because in the middle we are neither.. or we could say "governmentless," (as with self-mastery), or "outer-government-less."  But still is our own "rule," the same as dad's was?  Meaning we hear the old man's voice in our head all the time, we don't necessarily inflict the same punishments but we feel the same sort of fucked up feeling as when we were waiting for "your father to get home," which is pretty fucked up.

Bringing us to the "sins," of the father being "visited," on the sons for three or four generations.. but this is not bleak.. the book does not say "forever," but just unto the third generation or so.. -and we will quickly note the definition of "sin," as meaning "miss the mark," and not necessarily a hell-worthy thing; we can't miss any mark if we are not shooting at anything, which is what too many people choose after a while, and really needs more investigation because perhaps not shooting at anything is a good thing.. we don't know.. the idea that we will always miss the mark the way a boy feels when comparing his self to dad we gotta take into consideration dad might be completely full of shit but then it's not his fault and by default not grampa's fault either or even great-grandad's.. 

There's a lot there in the whole feminine and masculine living in the same body.. and divorce.. and the economy.. so..

***

THE FIRST RULE OF A.A. IS WE can only solve our own problem, or wait, we can't and need a "Higher Power," to do it.. but no.. this is a baby jesus thought process.. Bill did word things well when he said a "higher power," can "restore us to sanity," but we still gotta handle sanity.. in a world of fantasy and fiction.. and it's always that kid that gets "depressed," because the fictions ain't doing it for him.. then that feeling of being a bit odd turns into a full blown mental illness and requires a re-chemicaling of the brain..

Yeah it's fucked up.. why are you looking at me?

Anybody with an ounce of power is trying to convince you it's a good thing.. and you should consider it relevant.. to the measure of "abuse," even, when necessary, since all natural ability, charisma, (especially charisma being connected to the word "angel"), all "prosperity," now, all position, (untouchable), all favor and client/patron bullshit.. in fact, everything is the glorious good "Will," (capitalized), "of God," and not some holy horseshit some other loser needs to convince himself is real but all he has to put him to sleep is the fact you bought into it.. but at the bottom is some skewed lie that all mother-nature-power is somehow father-god-given.. and we are supposed to believe this and fall in line.  

And this is proven by the ever-increasing prison population.. and the drug "epidemic," and the fact we got Joe Biden on TV.

And we let it go on another day.. that's the big one.. that's the mighty one that has to sink in before anything gets done..

Our own little mind retreated into our own fantasy long long, long long long ago, and is just emerging back on the scene.. oh, we took your books with us, deep into the little hidey hole of our various allotted cells along the way.. we spoke now and then, got praised and slapped back into line.. left, came back, (a lot like our mom did in the home).. and should it all come to nothing?

We been trying to sort out what our contribution to the mess should be, and you know, we look around the studio here and we notice every creation brings a mess to clean up.. but it's just us, so.. half our time is cleaning up.. be that as it may.. in the notion we might have something to offer the "world economy," thing.. who do we think we are? 

Actually we just saw we forgot to add the conclusion of the "lawlessness equals freedom," scenario as that relates to the innate sense of entitlement to freedom inside every man, (and some women), lawlessness in terms of everybody's a "sinner," and the "imagination," of man is "evil continually," (and plotting and scheming and idolatry).. until well, you better just sit down and be fucked up.. and how this all relates to the taoist thing.. gone west.. to the point we don't trust each other or the universe.. we know WE can be a decent guy.. but these "runamucks," might as well kill them as infants.. but no.. we gotta wait until they are driven mad by some real systematic incongruence, (like christianity and the twelve steps.. yeah.. jesus saved you and god can restore you to sanity but you still gotta "self-improve," or get the fuck out of here).. like "representation," is a choice between donald and hillary when nobody wants to be either one.. but that's your fucking choice.. and if you don't go mad, we're sorry but, there's something really wrong with you..

I mean, we can go into the whole chomsky metaphor of boys' club institutionalized mafia protection.. but it's our culture.

THE ETERNAL NOW
^{Saturday 13 January 2024}

BEYOND THE "ATOM," DOES "quantum," or any other kind of physics want to tell us what compound material is "eternal?"

Beyond the atom itself, which, we're pretty sure is still a theory, everything material, alive and "dead," (soul-less or whatever), is a compound; the "elements," that make up the compound are themselves compounds.. and in the course of time these compounds change into other compounds, they break down, they get burnt up, they get ate and turned into a pile of shit.. they seep back into the earth.. disintegrate.. and then the various elements that made up the man go off and are collected up, attach to something else, pick up a hitchhiker or two.. and for a time wave a flag as something else.. some other grand compound of elements with a mouth.. (and not just here but all over the universes)..

And an anus.. but we can't limit our discussion to mammals and certainly not mankind.. nobody is going to be happy with that.. somebody is going to feel the need to drag "God," and all "Divine Justice," into the thing, and then the fiction is going to fly brother.. but good.. bad evil science.. well I hope they can cure my warts but, otherwise they're pure evil and baby blood drinking.. and some douchebag kid is going to believe it because his warts he believes are a "punishment of God," but, hey, if science comes up with a cream.. you know, maybe there's a concession, (of "God"), that all good butt-cream that is created by Satan is okay.

Does anybody ask why kids are called "kids?"  Are we kidding?  Is it because they are the worst kidders in the world?  -and we swear to god, the next person that refers to their children as "kiddo," ("my kiddos"), on YouTube is going to get a pretty harsh comment.. is it because they are not clever or sophisticated or worldwary or cynical.. is it because they believe any goddamned nonsense out of a parent's mouth?  Kind of fun to watch them all dumb and shit.. just kidding.

We might warn the reader we're about to drift into "idolatry," and the mistake of appointing a king, paying virus protection-money, and we love kids and wish we could keep them small, and we can't, but we don't stop trying, and mother nature don't give a fuck about father god...

And here's something really far out we could never understand.. why being a person isn't fascinating enough for people.

^{Friday 12 January 2024}

AND SO WE ARE BACK to relinquishing power.. and who has the power to do that.. if it is worth doing.. and who knows...

We don't know.. we are still stuck on trying to figure out what drives all these douchebags to the gym.. I mean, don't you wanna be that pathologist that gets to dissect Arnold Schwarzenegger.. just to see mr. universe all fucked up and dead.. after all that posing.. or let's have a real "viewing," for once.. like the elephants have to do.. you know we saw this piece on elephants a couple days ago where the group was trying to deal with a dead "child," with no thumbs.. (no, the adults, we mean, had no thumbs.. well.. the baby either).. they were gently kicking it with their stub feet.. maybe two days.. then the narrator said they formed into a "procession," (we don't know though as that part got edited for television), and each walked by making a noise and giving the corpse one last touch.. "come back come back come back?"  Nobody knows...  We're just figuring out that elephants "vocalize," in frequencies we can't hear.. our point was looking at the gym guys later on and asking them if all that "achievement," was worth a fuck.

You really gotta wonder.. I mean, is the "nature," of man, (if there's some secret thing living inside us we still don't know what the fuck to make of).. is the nature of man truly evil or just stupid?

Well.. we can't talk to everybody.. 

We remember our Dad telling us the reason he kicked us out of the house was he was hoping it would give us some kind of a good old "I'll-show-you," thing that, (apparently), worked so well for him.. I'll show you.. yeah.. in jail, we took on certain accents, and in one case began pronouncing the word "cock," more like "cack," which is not exactly eastern U.S.A. or anything.. but just because it was funny.. with much emphasis.. and how much we used the word "cock," (it's almost like we embarrassed our self and had to change it up and say it with the small "a" sound.. like "cack," as in.. "I'll show you my CACK."

Yeah, somebody is going to have to live with less around here.. dial it down a couple notches.. and it's not gonna be Joe or Donald.. it ain't gonna be Obama or George or any of those cock-sucking embarrassments.. and it sure ain't gonna be any of US.. (what are you, stupid?).. what about prince andrew now has to fuck girls over 16.. poor bastard.. are you serious even for suggesting it.. what do we want poor andrew to have to live in a virtual hell around here?

What's our point.. whose side are we on.. what do we want old prince andrew to go have to work in a diamond mine or something.. what are we saying?

We're saying stop taking a side you fucking douchebag.. what do we gotta waste another couple thousand years trying to figure this one out?  Or at least draw the line at cocksucking.. let's start there.

What do I mean?  What do I mean.. what do YOU mean?  Why you want to figure out what I mean?  Like something out of your mouth is going to change something.. you have a dream.. great.. go back to sleep..

_screenshot

Fucking seriously.. (what are they looking at, god?).. I mean, excuse us for not exactly knowing why the royal family still thinks they're royal.. not after seeing john kennedy's brains fly out of his head in a quick pink puff because he ventured too far out of camelot.. oh he come down to texas with his little democratic ass and got it handed to him.. suddenly baghdad gets looted.. duh.. what'd we do wrong george.. it's the towel headed monkeys can't appreciate our value system.. george bush on a mission from god knows everybody wants to be american.. and the funny part is, the sad and tragic part too, is he didn't even believe it.. you want to know what I think.. I think the real "owners," of the planet flew old young george around in the plane all day eleven september two-thousand-and-one.. and ask him if he's be willing to dial it down a few nothches and live with less, (minus a couple daughters and a wife maybe.. which he had to think about.. but the money.. no.. we ain't livin' without the money).. and old george just went to sucking sucking sucking.. in a big stetsun hat..

But we don't know.. we don't know why the hearts and minds of the british people put up with still buying these costumes.. 

And what are you gonna do really?  I mean, if you still want to be the guy claiming moral superiority.. you go right ahead..

How do these fucking jackoffs sleep at night we don't know.. big horse-toothed cocksucking hollow-een ghosts they are..

I mean.. how.. in the fuck.. is anybody going to go on TV as an expert in british anything and talk about prince andrew and why he's so fucked up in a way that will somehow justify his being sort of kicked out of the family but not really?  Oh!  The embarrassment!  I'm just a professor.. luckily I wasn't born to a diamond-miner's daughter in siberia.. or the coal hole of butcher-holler.. fucking blame us.. the goddamned kids.. of today.. 

FOR MY "ALCOHOLIC" FRIENDS
^{Thursday 11 January 2024}

YOU GOTTA ASK YOUR SELF WHAT is the basic "devil," of alcoholism if it is not the "I-can't-live-without-you," thing.

For us it is a fascinating aspect of the human nature this duality of the thing just mentioned coupled with the equally powerful "sorry-I-gotta-be-alone-now," thing.. I mean, if Jesus really said truth and lies can't flow out of the same spigot.. if life is wanting your cake and eating it too.. wanting things both ways.. double standards.. fixed weights.. (you know you got your Joe Bidens under the table where you can't see it has his toe on the scales.. blowing with any way the wind is blowing Larry with your mouth).. you gotta choose...

But this is what we think Jesus meant by dying and being resurrected, honestly.. from the evidence we've seen.. so, yeah, you can't live without whoever or whatever.. (booze having played the role of the alcoholic's "bff" -that would be "best friend forever," for the guys my age).. that fucked you but good charlie.. you have to die in order to find out you're still alive.. maybe alive for the first time.

***

SO LET'S TAKE IT NATIONAL since we can't stand to be alone and can't live without somebody, everything about us has to be inflicted on the rest of the world somehow.. sad to say, this does not make the "great man," all this fedrealisting and republicanation.. kill all them that don't buy your horseshit is what it is.. like any other "narcissistic," teenager would decide was the best course of action.. still bugged by Saddam telling Daddy to go fuck himself.. I'm sorry to say kids, but that's all that happened there.. and don't forget Uncle Larry's big cock.

RED COLLAR WORKERS
^{Wednesday 10 January 2024}

MINUS THE REDCOATS COMING IN your mouth.. because there's no more "company man;" and little respect for his memory; you set the real institutionalized worker against what happened in Silicon Valley.. the move to the east...

Man, we gotta face our debt.. we say this personally to our self and the nation.. we have the notion that there is a company man in all of us and the only thing we know how to do is exploit that guy in the next guy.. but that's just us...

Joe Glogan, (sp?), owned a little graphics store back in the late 1970's and early 80's and gave us an opportunity to be a real-life "artist," (we even got one of our portrait-illustrations published in a newspaper.. which was probably more of a newsletter but hey, when you're 20.. that's considered a good stepping stone).. we would have given Joe the 30 years we stupidly gave over to the mental-health-industry, (unpaid appointee).. Joe came over to our desk one day we had two black eyes and a boot-print on the back of our t-shirt from coming straight to work from the parking lot of a bar we woke up in.. we had an appearance ticket in our pocket.. can't imagine what we smelled like.. and Joe wasn't smiling or frowning that we could see.. probably enjoying some quiet personal amusement.. he said, "you look like you had a good time."  

We don't know why he came over to our desk that day, (handed us some piece of paper and left without a hello or goodbye).. we don't remember any other encounter with Joe as encounters, we imagine, with authority of any kind, were always like, "old-trauma-response-inducing," things.. probably not too much different than encountering the President or Elvis.. and you really want to be that boy that can say, "fuck you, Mr. President Elvis," surely, but the Beatles most of all.. fuck you Mr. Beatles.

We don't know what we might have done if Jack Kreamouth that owned the graphic store around the corner came by with guns and lawyers.. and his big thuggy artists.. all strapped to his bat-utility-belt like different shades of dildo.. we didn't think like that back then.. we just gotta say thank god they recognize, (if not to varying degrees respect), the "neutral," position in New York State prison.. you know you walk around that shit hole a few years.. where you cannot trust even one other person, not the cops, not the counselors, certainly not the other criminals.. you expect your heart is going to give out any minute.. and then one day they say "pack your shit," and it's a whole different thing than imminent domain coming by with a bulldozer.. or has to be.. we never had a domain that anybody wanted to turn into rubble and a parking lot.. paving paradise.. we remember Timmy asking if he could "buy," our bicycle, (it was a beauty we bought with our paper route money), he'd just gotten some dish-washing job and needed transportation and didn't want to borrow it, we imagine.. he just could not fathom that we would have gladly gone without if it made him feel a little better about having to be Tim.. pretty sure he said he'd give us a little less than it was worth.. in installments.. we don't know, ten or fifteen dollars a week.. and god bless the ability to shrug.. one day we saw we had $15 in our hand and no bike.. what the fuck man.. but the deal was the deal.. 

..thou shalt not lend with interest.. thou shalt not look upon thy wife's neighbor with interest.. thou shalt not want...

That really is a promise kids, we're convinced; someday you won't want anything at all and nobody will want for you.

First things first though.. first we gotta get through this holy war.. 

We don't know but, we hear a lot that in war you know you begin to trust your brother a little bit in the fox hole, after you hand out a blanket party or two; once you got your scapegoats in their place and gone out to pay for your little bitch inside.. maybe they're still in the next bunk.. we don't know.. (we went all the way up to signing the enlistment paper).. we did find a slight measure of trust in the other prison but we had to endure a few excruciating games of rummy.. the cop had said, 'you know, you want to play that "loner," shit around here you're going to find yourself in the bathroom with ten guys kicking the shit out of you;' we didn't listen of course.. you're not supposed to talk to the cops.. just listen.. but we could not.. we'd watch these fucking douchebag white guys hanging around the "bubble," (the cop station), leaning on mops.. I mean, you gotta be kidding me.. shooting the shit like they're at work.. just utterly mystifying.

***

NOW WE ARE THINKING WARS and rumors of war and actual moving pictures of wars.. but don't let your hearts be troubled.. don't let your hearts be troubled.. god help him by whom offenses comes...

We should admit we were "paid," well enough for being the unwitting-volunteer-mentally-disabled guy.. room and board anyway.. and this coming Spring we begin a new "career," (at 64 years of age).. of our own.. but right now we live on about $900 a month, plus food stamps, (again.. for now), and we are very properly ashamed and horrified by it.. especially horrified.. if you can pick your horror and take your girlfriend to the show.. but it's almost been ten years this Spring we haven't taken any prescribed psychotropic drug.. paappaluja..

Not to be redundant, we know we've said this a hundred times, in varying degrees of anger, resentment, and rage.. horrible "drunk," on it even.. but we don't want "talking," to be our career.. meaning we don't want another cock in our mouth.. we don't want another contract.. promise.. commitment.. or yoke.. (we kind of wish some douchebag in a robe could tell us what exactly this "yoke of Jesus," meant but we've given up wondering.. ask, seek, and whatever).. we're "retired," from all of it and it doesn't mean much of a damn if there's any residual value in having "gone through it."

I mean, we got our girl to wonder about.  She's not really our girl, we should point out, something of a "daughter-figure," and friend more like.. we don't know if we "love," her or not, if we are "in love," with her or what.. we figure the hormones won't allow such nonsense to rule our life anymore.. all this hope and promise and soul-mate horseshit.. even if it is true there wouldn't be very much anybody is supposed to do about it.. we go back to Solomon.. "my son, don't awaken love before her time," and hold on to that for a second..

That was kind of the first of the "quotes-out-of-a-book," thing that struck us.. soundly and resoundingly.. because we somehow felt in the deep knowing place that we were doing that and began to debate whether or not Solomon knew his ass hole from a hole in the ground.. we knew we were trying to awaken love before her time but we didn't know how to stop doing that.. on the ouside it looked a lot, we suppose, like sniffing a vagina and trying to engorge our feathers.. creeping, in other words.. ah.. they're all over the place.. you certainly can't cop to being a predator.. but where do you go with the knowledge of it?  We didn't want to stop trying to awaken love on a promise anyway or think there was any other way to go about time.

Oh yeah every club has it's fuck-boys, and the army has it's soldiers.. this is no disparaging name.. the greeks had their personal love "students," (worth investigating the truth of).. and loved them as truly and deeply as the human heart is capable.. and one kid is more than willing to go without something another kid is not.. there's always going to be the twelve..

The thing is.. no.. the "year," cannot be split into twelve months, or moon-cycles.. it's never an equal split.. there's always a quarter of a day too much.. or three-quarters too little.. then another eon now we gotta think about.. then some other shit only Pointy Poindexter can decipher and calculate.. some greater math we gotta keep from falling into enemy hands.. Jack Jackmiov next door.. he's got Pointy by the balls.. we need to get Pointy over on our side.. over here where it's safe...

OKAY WE BEEN FOCUSING on "self-care," for quite a while now and feel it's time to look someplace else for directions..
^{Tuesday 9 January 2024}

I mean, we're trying to define our self precisely.. in terms of finding, (or creating if need be), an "identity;" you know the old saying, if you want something done right.. we kind of lean toward "exotic animal," over "screaming-infant-still-in-diapers," but we are willing to look at this thing from all angles, in a "both/and," sort of way.. and, well, don't jump all over us for looking around a little bit someplace other than where you want us to.. if we really, I mean really, really really really want to be the "author-ity," of our own life, we're going to have to look beyond "social-media-influencer," (we think), which, well, it's the number one aspiration of kids over here now.. (Chinese boys and girls still want to be astronauts - we got that from a "60 minutes" thing a couple years old: right around minute seven or eight of this thing: Anger in America and faith in our democracy).. competition is going to be massive, is all.. so.. if nothing else we keep looking..

from https://exoticpetszone.com/ verbatim, (and oh my god please give this a read because it is hysterical):

How Do You Potty Train a Pet Monkey?

Before you start, you need to make sure to take your monkey either outside or to a large enough designated area to play around and exercise every single day. That will help to keep their systems moving, so you can try the following steps:

1. Take your monkey to their cage or enclosure any time they pee on you. This isn’t a time out; it’s a chance to show them where to go.
2. Take them back out after a period of time.
3. Close them in the cage each time they urinate on you.
4. Feed your monkey in or around their “home” so they get a sense of where to go.
5. Stop playtime whenever your monkey pees on you or while you’re holding him or her.
6. Let your monkey jump off you and do their business outside.
7. Stop using diapers once your monkey gravitates toward their cage
8. Leave the cage door open once they have the idea of where to go.
9. Put your monkey’s water supply in an area that encourages them to go near it but not on it.
10. Switch to a larger cage if it doesn’t seem to be working.

Okay so the directions need a little "association," or metaphoric-meaning.. can we get a real artist in here please?

***

Earlier this morning we were doing a little "free-association," thing to our self.. you know, spread it out a little.. but don't look too hard into it.. this idea that "God," is watching everything is very interesting but not entirely useful right now.. I mean, it has been said for centuries and look at the situation.. you gotta figure either people don't believe it or it means they got a special "in," with the "big man," so.. any bullshit is excusable.. 

..anyway it went like this:

HIRING SOMEBODY TO DO YOUR JOB but you're gonna need a whip..

WITH NO MORE NATURAL ATMOSPHERE to wrestle to the ground anymore, unfortunately, we gotta subdue something.. (and that's "according to the bible," even.. "go subdue the lesser animals"); this translate into hiring somebody to be "the bitch," (in you), more like.. "appointing," even more like... around here.

Yeah yeah yeah, keep your diaper on; we'll serve you right after we're done serving our self.. jesus christ.. this "public!" -you kids don't know what serving he public is.. listen.. we gotta suck Larry.. then we gotta suck you too?  Whaddaya want?

Fucking Joe Biden.. besides, "no thanks," think about the fact that the guy's got no "home," (think about the word "plant-a-tion"), to go back to after he's done jerking off in the white house.. think of that as your "comforter," for the day.. all that cock in his mouth.. appointing Joe to take the big cock of "God," in his mouth for you.. (oh yeah, we're back on this kick today)...

The pointed finger is the main thing.. john the baptist pointing to jesus and jesus pointing to the sky.. nobody asks why the romans took john's head off and appointed jesus the "god," of rome.. but you see, as self-appointed leonardo back from the dead.. we're pretty sure john was pointing at the sky and jesus pointing at john.. I mean, we imagine the scenario went something like, "what do you mean baptize you; you should be baptizing me.. no.. you do me.. no.. you hang up first.." and then they just descended into a pillow-fight kind of dunking game.. (we're pretty sure jesus took over mainly because john was beheaded.. and these guys were pretty "overthrow," the bullshit.. much like we are now).. I mean, that's what happens just before the lights go out.. after comparing pajamas.. 

OOOOHHHHH my god's bigger than your god.. my god loves me more.. he gave me a plane and hair plugs.. now it's time to go home... 

everybody now...

And if we gotta hear, "divide and conquer," one more time.. dad, my ass itches, dad, my ass itches, dad, my ass itches.. 

Take it to jesus.

Jesus: what do you want me to say; you got fingernails, don't you?

Where are we going to go; you have the words.. comfort yourself king davie.. 

God's gonna be a big "I-told-you-so;" I told you a king you don't want.. but noooooooooo.. 

Fear will whip them into shape.. 

***

MUCH BETTER GUYS THAN ME saying all this.. I should be afraid of a majority.. (of douchebags with their faces in a phone at the A.A. meeting; obviously there is more happier me going on).. if handling my own dark side is more important than worrying about people that don't believe they have one.. not in any way "equal," anyway to their magnificent light.. nobody is convinced by hearing alone.. or few.. you gotta see that shit come out of you for yourself.

This is part of why we always go back to drinking; we don't like the big get-game.. we're still prey to the emotional manipulations going around the fantastic "spiritual," world.. invisible.. people think a "spirit," is limited to the good and right.. no matter how much evidence there is to the reality of the opposite; we never could understand why "humanity," is always considered to be a good thing, in spite of it's cruelty and vice.. I mean how much do we gotta see?

Go get your "likes," and your "shares," and especially your "sponsors," and then go and suck everybody's hungry cock.

NOT IN A GREAT MOOD
^{Monday 8 January 2024}

AS BEFITS "AMERICAN CULTURAL INSTITUTION at least for blue and white collar people; "wreck-monday-physiologically-and-psychologically-forever," is it's name.. and blame it on the moon.. but we were wondering how something so incredibly misogynistic as "christianity," can be so appealing to women.. a great mystery and miracle no doubt.  We are thinking it's because most of them end up chained to a lesser bachelor, (one that actually has a penis), and if you gotta settle for the lessest of a whole shit bag of evils.. "subservience," being spread more evenly, and non-gender-specific, probably looks good for a while, and there's always "advancement," in the penile ranks.. of which "windfall," and theft or "appropriation," and re-appropriation is not only possible but rather abundant.

FREINDSHIP CANNOT HAPPEN WITHOUT SELF-MASTERY
^{Sunday 7 January 2024}

HAPPENING FIRST around here.. and what is society lacking if it isn't friendship without enemyship.. and why that ain't a word yet we don't know.. meaning, out on the seas everybody knows and can identify and is used to encountering an "enemy ship;" we watch out for it.. but there's no such thing as a friend ship.. and we can quibble and say things like, "oh, there is such a thing as a "friend-LY ship," hoopdedoo.. (in the business of creating nouns out of our ass).. but we can return to that with, "then why is there not an "enemy-LY ship?"  It's because the friendship is supposed to be the goddamned boat we are all in for crying out loud.. we take it for granted.. then Cassius joins the dinner..

"...my enemies eat at my table..."

                                                                                                                                                                                                   ^{-KING DAVID}

MUTINY is in order.. if ever mutiny was in order.. we would say.. but the ruler is illusive or elusive now.. he lives inside of us.

Are we to welcome "adversary," and debate?  I mean, dealing with the psychopath.. here at home.. I mean, we love her, but.. she puts us out of our head.. wholly.. and she is certain to find a better man; if there is a fear and sure knowledge in any man's heart it is the certainty that there is a better man our there than he.. if not as a boy, if not in his prime, then absolutely when he is old.. I mean, is anybody going to be stunned to see Joe Biden's head blown off from three different angles on CNN?  Will the country weep?  Just as an example, get the fuck out of politics, go back to your plantation George Washington.. because you didn't fucking have one.. just a poor kid.. my parents were immigrants.. fucking blow me.. what you had was the spoiled-kid syndrome we might think was "created," by and after WWII.. and we still believe that whole era was a good thing.. the one that created the douchebag father that ran our house until we was fucking around at 62.. and needed to be retiring our self.. because there is no such thing as a "generation," you fucking morons.. you look back and make a story of what just happened but you can't get the color of the car right.

HEY HEY HEY.. what's the first thing they do to you in the MightyMarines, they call you a "maggot;" you want to be a moron or a maggot?

It's almost impossible, we're finding, to be comic and tragic at the same time.. it's gonna ruin our book.. so we see a need for comic relief.. but does this mean drinking beer everyday from 10am on out in order to cope with the disintegrating family that won't listen to us?  We just figured out last night why we didn't feel at all capable of being a man or becoming a man someday; there was no concept of growth in our house, you fucking were what you fucking were.. we don't know if this is natural or just natural to us.. (being fucked).. I just know it's common among boys, looking at their fathers, rather engaging with them, "no fuck way I can be that," (for good or ill).. our problem was we lost control of our alcohol consumption in junior high school.. and OHHH here we go with the debate of the "disease-model," of "addictions," and every sort of distraction from every getting anyplace.. like we like.. but we had no "medicine," of our own, is my point.. if growing up is a "disease," we need medicine from the HOPIE hoopah caterpillar.. not Dad.. Jesus, if Joe Biden was our father for real.. no disparagement on his kids but we don't give a fuck.. we'd blow his head off on national TV in a minute.. that's the kind of rage we have to find some medicine for.. 

WE, personally, had to stop consuming alcohol altogether because it allowed the rage to come out.. plain and simple.. but impossible.. because there was no man inside.. not one strong enough or wise enough or skilled enough or trained enough.. to steer the fucking boat.  We called on Jesus for a long time; we suffered four years in Teen Challenge trying to get Jesus' attention.. you know, eventually, you gotta say "fuck you."

We'll tell you what though, that was a break in the "medication," prescribed by the mental-health-industry around here.. and maybe just enough to begin to give the nervous system a chance to do it's real business.. to grow.. by adversity.. or whatever.. let's not make a big hopeful-poverty story out of this.. movie of the week.. it took leaving Teen Challenge three times to leave Teen Challenge.. 

But we're not undisabled yet.. we are only shooting for that now.. which brings us to Sybil and Sister Sally, the Flying Nun..

We were going to end yesterday with the Flying Nun but it was late and we were watching some true crime thing.. the moral of the story we will tell you right away is like, girls.. (speaking to girls directly is not something we are trying to do here but we make this exception).. we can't disparage anybody wanting to go out and get for their self the "power," they have to endure the wielding of by douchebag men.. but to resort to the same tactics will only get you the same power, with the same limitation, and the same consequence.. this occurred to us watching the true crime thing, this insistence we can somehow "get justice for the dead," well.. it just seems like a ridiculous thing.. and worse, is some melodramatic horseshit about it.. I mean really.. (speaking to a particular YouTube "creator").. you want people to love you over Chris Watts.. as a topic.

Holy (Horrifying) Horseshit.. because we got sucked in by Sister Bertrille.. and oh yeah.. we had to go back twice to make sure we are spelling that right.. but what do you want; we were nine.. Sally did something to us we had no preparation for.. flying through the air.. (hoping to peek up her dress).. there is just no way to describe how incomprehensible childhood in 1969 was.. if we didn't have the Flying Nun and the Flintstones there to comfort us everyday after school.. anyway flash forward just about 30 years.. and we know, the Cybil craze.. oops, we meant the Sybil craze.. the Cybill.. (Shepherd).. thing came later.. literally.. the Sybil thing happened mid-to-late-seventies.. the rash of "multiple-personality-thing," that broke out.. right after that book.. we our self didn't see it as a movie until the 2000's.. and wouldn't you know we were dating a girl that looked an awful lot like Sally.. (at least to us).. okay we were living with her, but we learned our ultimate lesson from that.. we are thinking Geraldo caught multiple-personality-thing too.. that poor bastard couldn't figure out what he wanted to do as a TV thing..

I mean, the creature from the black lagoon was out.. or taken.. the blob.. you ain't gonna be another creature from the black lagoon.. you ain't gonna be another blob.. but you gotta be something..

^screenshot

THANK GOD FOR REAL RESEARCH and reporting.. but why "thank 'God?'"  I mean who better to play the trusted doctor than our own Joanne Gignilliat Trimmier Woodward?  Holy motherfuck.. 

It's a good read, "SYBIL EXPOSED," but we wouldn't suggest anybody who is looking for medicine wait 30 years to do some research on their own.. or wait for an ambitious doctor, (male or female), to tell you what that is.. for them with no time to read, and all good Indian-woman or Woman-indian psychiatrists nonwithstanding.. Dr. Connie Wilbur never got any ARE-EE-ESS-PEE-EE-CEE-TEE.. in the man's world of doctoring-the-mind.. and since Freud had determined all the animalistic evil shit underneath our self had to be hypnotically called forth and.. slain.. (?).. we don't know what the fuck Sigmund Freud was really about.. just his face looked wrong to us.. we're warning against women trying to become men in order to do something.. like bringing poor Sybil's multiple evil animal to the surface using any "as-strong-as-need-be," chemicals.. which, if you read the story, produced all of Shirley Mason's memories.. 

On a side note it was the ONE-FLEW-OVER-THE-COO-COO'S-NEST type shock treatment that succeeded in annihilating my mother's "demons," by erasing all memories entirely.. more or less sweeping the house clean and leaving it empty.. in an odd association.. not a proper metaphor or example even.. just a memory of ours.

***

GOODBYE TO FUN NOW

FUN
^{154 X 223 mm. (5 x 9 in.) ballpoint ink gouache watercolor on watercolor paper} 

WE HAVE AN INTERESTED PERSON.. we actually had someone request a painting, (pictured above), so this is a new thing.. we don't want to get too excited but, it's like we feel some need to pin the first dollar bill on the wall.. and yes, we're sending it to the person free of charge.. we don't want to make a big moral speech about the cruciality of establishing principles, just reminding ourself we shot off our mouth one too many times.

THE PERSON ASKED US for some words about our "inspiration," and we started to write something over on the portfolio spot.. they were saying they didn't know why this particular piece of Art "touched," them, or why they wanted it in their home.. we can only say we hate to part with it.. but we made a statement and must stick to it now.. we love this piece very much.. we want to keep it very badly.. maybe more people will..

This of course opens the possibility of mass production and printing and getting real dollar bills to hang on the wall.. for all the other men in the world to see.. and do likewise.. and prove our wisdom.. but, alas, somebody believing our horseshit will never make it true.. so.. fuck that.. no.. we're sorry, and sorry for all the abusive language.. not fuck that.. because we don't have children of our own private property.. so.. motherfuck that.

AH WE GOTTA THINK a little bit at the end of the day.. hey.. Zoo.. se.. was that the Jews did that too, (the "hollywood" jews)

Who made Karlo all dark and handsome, and Sister Sally's love interest.. we seen that young we didn't want to be some phony Elvis black hair.. Timmy black hair was out.. Dad had some mousey hair like Debby's.. turned from blonde.. why we didn't have black hair?  

^screenshot

We'll probably never know.. our hair never turned black is all we'll ever know for sure and believe; we kept asking Jesus to make Sally love us instead.. why we couldn't be "AllaHONdro?"  Why we gotta be all round fat american horseshit?

TIMMY DIDN'T HAVE A BIG PROBLEM telling us what we should do with our money...
^{Saturday 6 January 2024}

WE ARE WATCHING A SHOW about the "vampire," burials in Ireland.. (doing the dead a favor by "releasing," them from a state of "un-dead"), -really quite fascinating but that is part of yesterday now.

Right now we are concerned with the manipulation of material resources and how to "get people on our side."

We recall how disturbed we were by the "moving-pictures," of George W. Bush.. that there was just something so objectionable about them.. something deeply enraging.. (we were conditioned to believe of course that our feelings were "wrong," or certainly brought about by an internal disease of "mental illness," which makes no sense, since, there was no thought associated with the feeling).. he was a fucking phony is all.. and still is.  Significant to today's problem was his insistence that whomever was not "for," us was in fact "against," us, which assumes there is no position of neutrality and that any disagreement is a justification for attack; we see this with Donald Trump on an even more extreme level which makes us wonder if our deepest "savagery," (or "evil," nature), will ever be sufficiently handled.. if the prospects of ending our "lust for war," as creatures.. well, it can be a very dismal meditation indeed.

We did love Timmy beyond all reason.  When Timmy was happy we were happy to the point of not even thinking unhappiness existed, and in that respect, we are very much an old woman.  He was never fake in the beginning, and here we have another reason to hate the "step-family."  We suppose that within families the "sociopaths," and the "narcissists," (among the siblings), and the "empaths," are all tumbled together and ground "smooth," (to some degree), that as in society it is a fact that one is attracted to the other or even "creates," the other.. Timmy and us were divided by the step-brother.. and for all we know this is the exact germ of the eternal and un-holy "trinity."  This bizarre nature of the "three," as a single entity.. of all numbers, three is the devil of all time.. (just as two divided by three equals .666666-repeated eternally); such is why "cheating," is the one crime that is unforgivable.. at least we know of no couple that was ever the same after one of the two had an affair.. people might be rather too quick to cower and rationalize.. rather cling to abusers like abused children.. etc.etc.etc. -if this isn't obvious we are wasting our voice).

If people should never be numbered, (we are pretty sure the bible warns against taking a "census"), we think it incredible that the power should have fallen to us.. later, it turns out, Timmy, (our older brother), came to us and said, "I've always felt overshadowed by you;" and well, we knew it all along, and we was made wretched by the fact.. we couldn't stand the feeling produced by beating him at chess.. or anything, for that matter, though throwing a contest was worse or equally disturbing.. (there is no end to human suffering, even when you don't play at all).. given this deep sense that "power corrupts," we have again the story of Jesus to deny it, (and we should put an end once and for all to this imagining of Jesus as some invisible companion, we think, as such a thing can only lead to much greater imaginings, but "for better or worse," might be a good thing to come out of a marriage vow.. in the realm of the imagination.. who knows?  -meaning, yes, we might cure polio but also we might be another Jim Jones, pursuing a speculation too far).. rather in any contest the sides should be evenly numbered, if there is any point to this paragraph.

We looked at our astrological chart and found all four elements scattered about.. we took this to the tarot and gave some thought to the "journey," of the "fool;" by some stroke of luck, giving a glance to the Chinese, we found our zodiac-animal led the pack, (of twelve), over there too.. and we might ignore the deep stirring of that number.. the dirty dozen.. for now.. we looked hard at the nature of the "mammal," as a pack and as an individual.. (as if an individual mammal of any kind existed).. we watched some birds "mate for life;" we studied so much and might have done better for our self to have stuck to "math," (at least then "doing the math," would have more than not led to a surer prediction.. although sourly unsubjective).. we go back to the "people-as-things," abstract.. (maybe modern Art really does serve a good purpose).. if we can only tell the story in our own way; we made every attempt to lay down our power but saw many times that this did not serve anyone.. and now as we watch a worse and worse "Bush," as moving pictures in the "white house," we mourn more and more deeply that we did not find a way to make the laying down of power useful to very much of anything.

If the human mammal really does need a good "alpha," in order to go somewhere good, we are in sore straights for real.. we saw a film about one man who joined politics, it might have been John Kennedy, simply because he was moved by the sad measure of the men who were in power at the time; it seems he felt, holy fuck, if these douchebags can get elected.. (fill in the blank).. and here is an even greater irony than we make of the great and shit contradictions in the whole Kennedy thing, not the least of which the "vigor," in such a physically sick man; the necessity of being "elected," and felt great by others.. anyone who feels he is great is certainly not seen as fit for it.. rather making it known that I am the great I am, (we see what that brings all the time).. it is all an unspoken thing, possibly Freud would have done well to suggest the unconscious was a good thing, since it keeps the heart pumping unbeknownst to everything alive.. the natural imperium in a man.. glad and happy and joyous to give his power to a greater power.. but what about the greatest in the room?  Certainly there is one greatest in the room...

Well, we don't have time to question that one.. if you've ever sat around in a roomful of men trying to decide something, it's all, "uh, hmm.." (shrug and look to your left).. eyes darting around and "what do you think," and then the shuffling.. it's usually the last guy that shrugs that takes the day.. when everyone is equal that is.. it's a far different cry when the hierarchy of power is established on a ledger.. then we all have to look at Lyndon Johnson and cringe inwardly.. not quite knowing why; the Johnson is certain to listen to the wrong guy.. moved by un-namable forces.. (taste?).. because he's a fucking douchebag.. what do we need Jesus himself to come down here and say it out loud? -he's probably the only one willing to step out of ranks to do something so stupid.. I mean, you're not going to see that happen with Donald Trump's fuck-boys.

All this "identity," and national identity.. crisis.. (who tells you who you are).. the Chinese used to say, "when the Emperor is good the people are happy," but if you look at the tarot you'll see the Emperor card is only number four.. (of the 22 "trump," cards).. but we don't want to sound like that eight-hour YouTube guy.. like we made all the proper connections of the things and finally figured out who we are and what we are to do about it.. once and for all.. in the story of the tarot the fool goes to see the Emperor pretty early on and then goes about the rest of the fuck-fuck until he winds up at the World.. "fulfillment," and "completion," and we will be quick to make that King James Bible association, the word "perfect," as meant by Jesus, is closer in meaning to "complete," than all the dreaded evil thing all american weakness has made of it.. we are more afraid of perfection and completeness and fulfillment than we are of death.

Certainly there is nothing more frightening than being happy.. holy mother fuck me.. million-dollar-happy worst of all..

But that's another issue more sensitive to drug-addicts than normal people.. I don't know of many mothers unwilling to smack a boy off a high horse though.. all busting out of his britches.. (we don't want to see any of that in the kitchen).. 

I dream of everybody just ignoring Washington, or laughing.. what if the whole military just one day said, "fuck this."  

I mean, every man would have to make a good pact to be of good faith in ruling his self alone.. but we got little to do but dream big pie in the sky.. no we don't "deserve," such cushy landings.. we do feel we've paid a great price being so "disabled," though.. if we never get fully un-disabled.. we believe in providing for a child until he's grown.

We might take that further, to the belief that "your success is my success," (nationally), why do we just take it for granted China is gonna wanna kill us all?  We just received a little teapot from China that we ordered off eBay that came wrapped up and packaged like it was going to have to cross ten battlefields in order to get here.. unbelievable.. and the note.. I mean, this guy sent us pictures of the packaging.. while it was enroute.. sent a nice note.. "Friend," he said, (or she, we don't know, we couldn't even pronounce the name).. we got a package we should show you from some american douchebag sent us a pair of shoes taped up in an old weed-eater box, like he was tying up a rape victim in duct tape.. better hurry.. don't worry about details.. just get us there as quick and easy as possible.. and we're not saying americans don't have it in them to be chinese.. we're just saying..

Because we made a decision to be an "artist," and there's no going back; we can only tell the thing our own way..

Or not at all.

***

LIKE "WHITE ON WHITE crime," ain't a thing.. white on everybody crime.. "economic policy," hate to say, is "socialism;" all this fucking manipulation of resources is socialism.. we just like it when everybody thinks only "welfare," is socialism.. any time you let big business cocksucking run your mind.. money and capital.. (so few heroes in bigbusinessgovernment).. hate to point out bigbusinessgovernment, (the kind we got running the show here), does not equal free market capitalism.. let's see.. where do we see actual free-market-capitalism.. uh.. nowhere.. we think the problem is that the whole idea of "private ownership," is fantasy.. but who listens to us?  All this "my," wives.. "my," exes.. "my," my my my everything, (bank account and pension especially).. all fantasy.. 

The only thing anybody "owns," is their "soul, if they got any courage; "position," in the hierarchy of manipulating resources, (if they don't), depending on the next-rung-cock they gotta suck.. just like John Kennedy had to suck off old J. Edgar Hoover.. and J. Edgar had to suck off John and Bobby both.. it's no wonder we don't give a shit about the brown people.. I mean, can anybody imagine if it was a big black business cock everybody had to keep happy?

We don't know if having a big wad of money can insulate a person from being a bag of shit.. having to suffer that big wad of, "you-say-this-now-boy," blown into your mouth.. (somebody else's manseed coming out of your mouth), we don't know.. we just know that seed ain't gonna be black or brown or yellow, red we might get away with.. no way all that freed slave cock is ever going into our mouth.. that's where we go get the guns and ropes.. and if you notice we didn't allow Obamas mouth near the cock, no.. we bent him over the desk.. talk about a humiliation.. "economic policy," is the worst sort of socialism there is..

We found out Timmy was doing LSD in high school but we figure part of that was our fault for being so indecisive and cowardly; it's really tough to get all the details in but we hope a broad brush will suffice.  It broke our heart to some degree but frightened us more than anything.  Dad was gone, his mind and will were gone.. that left Tim.. but minus the faithful Second, (his General), well.. might as well trip out.

As boys we dammed the creek regularly.. not for any manipulation of "hydro-energy," but for whatever we didn't know.. if it could be done, or how well, or for what.. we never asked.. there was too much, "pick up that rock and put it there," going on.. or "go grab that log and bring it back here."  Orders we were happy to follow; the "mow my lawn," and "clean my garage," (for nothing), was a bit unrepresentational.

Peer-group-therapy was what they called "the hot seat," rehab formula.. "peer-evaluation," where you had to listen to the new guy's story and then think it over and then give feedback.. you had to tell the guy two things about his self that might be liabilities moving forward and two things that you saw as assets.  If you went to a "counselor," with a problem back then they'd tell you go find a peer.

We remember Dad smashing all the dishes and glasses on the floor one morning, we figure it had to be morning, we were in our pajamas, as our first taste of "white on white," crime.. we stood by the couch where our sister was huddled up crying her eyes out.. (can't recall a feeling; we suppose we were taking in the whole content, the rage and fear and fuck-fuck floating around the place).. but we stood near Deb as was our place.. now we figure, how you going to take in the whole atmosphere anymore?  

Later on Timmy says to us, "it's all Mom's fault; if she was here he, (our father), would not drink so much," and such is the beauty of a child's reasoning capacity.. we had no opinion.. or rather we had gotten to an age where we knew there was no reason for anything; rather what was natural, that we were unable to ever "take a side," in the family, would always be the decider.

And it looks like "indecisiveness," sure, like we care.. there's only so much sorrow anyone can take before that whole business of "caring," needs some reconstruction.. everybody, across the board, wants you to take their side.. get you all hot to pick up a gun.. rahrah.. and you can only ask, "if Jesus really could call down 10,000 avenging angels onto Pilate's ass, why didn't he?

"heroism," in the end means life to the soul at the expense of the body and nothing anybody says will ever change that.

GOING MY WAY
^{Friday 5 January 2024}

SAILOR?  (IT'S GOOD TO OPEN EVERYTHING with a joke).. 

The whole "establishing principles," thing is crucial, so, yeah.. the only way to fight or change the established norm is to do it yourself.. meaning our whole understanding of, (as a "people"), and more so conditioning to "the way things work," is what it is.. but the alternative must be proven, and seen and experienced before anybody is going to be drawn to it and do it themselves.. so I am out to prove a principle.. that you can give shit away and be alright.. further on that that's the ONLY way you or I can live with and enjoy any semblance of our true nature..

_{-portion of a letter to Nicky Spin -Richard Raycroft}

Yean, I'm the new, (presidant), "alfalphhamale," by virtue of making a video of myself to hang on YouTube.. "eol," (that's the new "lol;" it means, "explosion of laugher").. -and yeah, I made up the word "presidant."

But I got little time, so, I'm just going to publish a few well-known definitions of some misunderstood words all over the place.. like "love," and "marriage," if we can't have one without the.. fuck-fuck.. you kids can make of it what you will.

^screenshot

OKAY HERE WE ARE ALL FUCKED up immediately.. people think that the absence of government will lead to chaos and that's correct in so far as assuming there is no self-governance to step in and fill the void.. we don't trust others and we don't trust our self.. and we don't trust mother-fucking, (baby-sniffing), Joe Biden...

"GOVERN"

^{(published this way because it didn't fit in the screenshot of the definition)}

^screenshot

LIKE WE SAID WE GOT NO REAL faith in the "self-government," of other people.. duh.. but the minute you suggest "anarchy," everybody shits their pants.. it's like we don't trust that underneath all the crap we got the same ruler.. and we do.. (if we didn't, nobody would obey any fucking thing).. people "obey," naturally.. it's called "inbred-imperium:"

^screenshot

Okay, we're going to go a different way with this, over to where the two definitions are put in a different "order:"

^screenshot

Okay, we know nobody likes the word "imperium," (because it means "absolute rule"), but we like it a lot and we are not going to argue about it.. we like it because a boy naturally inhabits a realm where Dad is both "God," and "Hero," (at least for a while), then we are given to another "habitation," which turns out to suck.  So, all we are going to say about "absolute rule," is that it must have its establishment from the bottom up, (by its very NATURE), and not from the top down, (like anything "american").. once dad falls from grace.. it's "anarchy," in the house.

"RULE"

^{(if you want to)}

SELF RULE IS NOT A CHOICE BUT it makes a hell of a lot more sense than all this trying to rule others and having to call the police because other people don't give a flying shit what we think.. that's what happens when you fuck up your reputation.. (people really only care about what we DO).. when Dad falls from grace.. or more likely "disgraces," himself.. like the douchebags running this fucking place.. ain't nobody listening anymore motherfucker...

MAYBE WE SHOULD GO WITH GOOGLE
^{Thursday 4 January 2024}

IN KEEPING WITH YESTERDAY's theme, we went looking for Mom in America.. how is she portrayed.. is she portrayed.. we don't know.. but there is a concept of "founding mothers," (among which, we discovered, Dolly Madison is numbered).. misguided femininity again.. rather girls confusing femineity with womanhood, (a long conditioned in process of hate-the-matriarch.. here in the patriarch)..

That last search was the absolute best in terms of being corrected by artificial and too automatic intelligence.

Except if we are to look deeper it gets even worse; if there is a concept better than, "it's-beyond-me," to come out of the patriarch minus the matriarch.. more and more "what's-really-gooing-on," if you ask me.. Mom doesn't waste her time on limitations and "unacceptable!"  -if there is a secret plot in place, I mean, to see that the "father," is separated from the "children," maybe there's a good reason.. or maybe it's just "his," children.. and every other... when "intimacy," with both gets creepy.. all we can say is there has to be a reason so few people can really remember having their diaper changed.

***

WE WERE THINKING OF SOMETHING different earlier; we were recalling what it was like to come back to life after we hung our self in jail.. I mean, all the horror and self-inflicted trauma aside.. it was in response to something Alan Watts put us through showing off some cleverness.. he said the eye can't see itself and it's only when some disease takes over.. or something, -we stopped paying attention.. but we can clearly remember what coming back to life looked like.. and exactly.. and we doubt anyone will believe us who has not experienced it but we will put it down anyway:

It was the picture of a thing floating in immense darkness.. and there was no recognition of what it was for a moment.. or the darkness.. it was an incomprehensible form.. just floating.. but there was no association.. no fright or comfort.. just observation and not even any opinion on "observation," as a noun.. and it was growing, the thing, the object.. we can't say for certain that it was "coming alive," or any sort of living thing.. because the thing stayed the same and it was rather more like tentacles were growing out of it.. and after a few more seconds of this we began to recognize what it was.. that it was an esophagus.  

We figure it's because that's what the air hit first the moment we took a breath, or tried to take a breath.. and we shouldn't even say tried to take a breath.. because that was a reflex of our body and not an intention.. we know because we faintly heard someone say, "that's right, cough it all out," at the same time the image was spreading and growing too rapidly to recall precisely.. we noticed our body trying to take a breath and being unable to, we imagine because our abdominal muscles were still numb.. the cells were not producing any electricity.. or reacting to any.. and it took a while to take a breath and to relieve the feeling of being unable to get enough oxygen.. beyond "winded," and possibly more like "drown," (for all we know).. but the point of recording this experience is to highlight the intense detail of the esophagus, (though it disappeared or rather got absorbed into the whole almost immediately), the precise detail that was perceptible in that first moment.. even though we didn't know what we were looking at.. 

So we relate this to dreams.. how incredible the detail, the whole histories and contexts that are created during sleep.. it's like an entirely new or different world.. we don't need to go into and study out the whole "quantum," physics thing.. we couldn't sit through an eight-hour video proving Egypt was the original, (and therefor only "true"), "Christianity," because there's just no goddamned way we want to try and hold that much in our head anymore.  Things are good and things are right all by their self.

^{Wednesday 3 January 2024}

... I knew just such a couple, a trio really, but that the little one, the child, was just a mimic of the two, a pair it was, living out the worst sort of poverty in the worst of conditions, from a single room; wishing and hoping and even praying that the snow came the December just passed, I saw them staring out through the frosted glass of a single window.. but January snow doesn't care what anyone thinks of her.. how and when and why and where she should fall.. if the reader should at all wish to know how it is anyone should come to know so surely so much about another person's life and family, all the way down to their true inner thought and feeling.. I know because I lived in just such a room just exactly next door.. and I watched them through a crack in the wall ...

_{-Chapter One - THE PORTRAIT OF D- by Richard Raycroft}

IT WAS A GOOD STORY and still is.  We felt the metaphors were too obvious.. and if we are going to take up the craft of writing, as a craft, well, we might find after all that we really aren't all that good at it.  Our grandfather we a letter writer.  

So the skipping of generations is more interesting because of that; it was the one quasi-compliment I ever got from my father, and one of the three things he ever said about his.  "Your grandfather used to write letters."  Precursor to social-media perhaps.. the comfort of being there without having to be there.. to call a lecture or an "oration," (our opinion), a "discussion," and believe it and have no one question it.. we can't picture a better "Heaven."

Free expression and all that.. but.. but but but.. but you know you're going to hypnotize a few 14 year old girls into doin' that "twerk," you copied from.. who? ..(shuck-a-chuck-a-kuck-a-kee-rah-rah.. but.. but but but.. but out there doing your own thing?)..

Play it safe?  Because some jackass will follow you anywhere.. (probably different for girls though)..

I mean, it's just our opinion, the big "God," we are all longing to get back to is, (or was), the intimacy we knew with Mom way back before we even had any conception it was an "it," at all and worse that it was going away.. quicker and quicker.. every day.  The Big It.  We really should have coined that way back when it was just something we imagined our Dad using.. and maybe he did.. he used "big," a lot.. and "old," like his father did.. he'd say, "ah.." (quietly, as if something relevant had just dawned on him), "it's the oooooold jelly sandwich.." for instance if one of the kids was asking if he could have jelly toast instead of whatever it was he was heating up in a pan.. (the answer to the universe), or if you went to him with a problem he had no conception you were a kid and spoke like you were just somebody else so that you didn't know what the fuck he just said.. he'd say, "I'll give you the big hurt."  So much potential.. and they all said the same about me.

Bill's big mistake was trying to leave the booze question aside and just be like everybody else.. one fell swoop.. we all wish we could just do something, one thing, and have it be the solution.. just tell us what it is.. not have to keep going back and back again and again, things seem to work for a while.. but to put it in a book and go bang people in the head with it.. doesn't make it so.

That's today's problem with "THE TWELVE STEPS;" we're thinking, "why not the twelve blow me?"

It depends on what institution brought you up; was it the boys' reformatory, the church, the fam-fam.. was it the new-institution-of-the-single-mother.. what?  For us it was the ooooooold.. state hospital.. it was there we were introduced to our first alcohol-rehab.. then our first detox.. then our first crisis center.. then half-way house.. then.. it was like a long tumble down a long stairwell.. stopping briefly on this or that landing.. nursing some bruises.. climbing a few flights.. then.. now.. we would say if anything is "eternal," it is that stairwell.. with its either way.. with its penthouse and balconies at the top and its cold puddles of wet shit and rats at the bottom.. you know, like any "castle."

oh we got castles in heaven twang twang.. just a waitin' waitin' waitin' twang twang.. Jesus.. got us a castle..

Why wait?  Go jump off a fucking bridge for crying out loud.. 

Yeah, we might be relevant to a few alcoholics but the rest of the world is on its own.  And not even that.. we spent a year and a half of our young live wandering the halls of a fucking state institution for the insane.. a year and a half.. nobody had any idea what to do with us.. there had to be a "diagnosis," (we don't know it to this day).. we saw an actual "doctor," two times the in the first year.. thank god he didn't give us drugs.. 

We were both in transition then, us, and the institution, is the thing, and most people can't get that.. they don't want any responsibility for what's being done wrong.. (I mean, take your fucking pick).. we certainly don't want to inflict any bullshit on anybody else.. I think the psychopaths and problem kids forget that part of their self.. and certainly I am a fool, to think that kid won't die until you do.. it's because eventually the most hated guy at the meeting even.. eventually.. if you just hang in there long enough, you find you can stand even him, and even look forward to seeing him again.. probably different for family though.. we don't know too many people like us.. "unaffiliated."

^{Tuesday 2 January 2024}

PEOPLE WANT ME TO GET into life, or get busy living, (as opposed to doing this), but we feel we have to do a work, whether that is the "mentally ill," part of us or not; we know that to do one, in the end, is to do the other in the sense that both "paths," lead to the grave.  

Missing in the U.S. is the "Mom;" it is the same as it has ever been in the micro as it is outside.. all the glorious paternity in THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV.. (where was the Mom?).. just trinkets for the old man.. and hatred.. and Alyosha.. our favorite William Shatner, (role).. how amazing and ridiculous was Fiodor Dostoevsky.. and Stinking Lizaveta.. and her spawn.

But Mom would have to turn into Dad to make any splash in the U.S. and become as repulsive as Hillary Clinton.

In our little story, we had felt at one point that the "Mom," role fell to us rather naturally or unconsciously; we naturally took a back seat to our siblings, but as material would have it, only inwardly, (not in any provision of material resource), in the form of listening and giving them our whole attention.  It did us no good right around puberty, when the whore moved into our house and brought her spawn and what was Dad going to do, kill them outright.. this other man's spawn?  If we could just remove all the hocus pocus for a minute and stop insisting Little Richie "forgive," everybody.. the rejection began when the role stopped working.. eaten by the cunt.. nothing for us to take into "manhood," and the U.S. marketplace.. nothing to bargain with.. easy prey for the sophisticated homosexual.. -if there is a homosexual that is not a "narcissist," or caught in that adolescent sex-trance still, we haven't met one; oh, we insist there is "good and bad," of all types, but inwardly we are more comforted projecting our own silly ugliness and stink onto somebody else's spawn.. because we had no real vocabulary with which to express our angst, or room, or anywhere to go with it.. we just kept it all wrapped tightly in a ball in our belly.. to think mental illness is not a societal disease is just too self-serving to be dismissed by the great american man.. these Jungian archetypes do not neglect the devil like the rest of us.. another eleven great superapostles and Jesus are sure to produce another "Judas." 

Wouldn't it really be something Kids if we could change the course of the U.S. with our mind and intention alone?

"If ye only believe?"

The "matriarchy," will need guns.. lots and lots and lots of them.. and, of course, pant suits.. (hats and badges).. Warren Zevon.. send pant suits hats and badges.. and clutches.. much less tipping over when you get your arms shot off.. just blow the bag into eternal neverland.. 

In the end we gotta ask ourself is it good to go all the way down that path and keep going into alone-ness and independence.. to the Hermit.. the ideal.. total masculine.. (be hot or cold but not lukewarm.. be male or female and not some confused indecisivity skulking about the middle).. because you gotta think this is what the boys on top think.. this is why the boys on top can stomach 3,000 "casualties," in the economic manipulations as soon as watch an episode of professional wrestling.. it means the same.. ("casualties," are just another abstract "it").. if you got enough money to buy into to game.. 

But Mom ain't like that.. she is not the hoarder scrounger cock-sucking fuck-boy who finally made it big.. and can't be.

KNOWLEDGE IS NOT SORROW
^{1am Monday 1 January 2024}

LIVING IN THE U.S.A. is sorrow.. living in reality rather, is lonely.  For instance, all this terror-talk.. or rather again, the F.D.R. (fireside chat), that is put in place to quiet it.. congress is nasal spray.. 99% of everything I hear from people is the new fireside chat.. and if we are going to get out of this we are going to have to live without being able to breathe out of our nose for a while.. which is hell.

Borrowing our way out of debt is a reality most people can't fathom.. but look around, the fields are already silver..

The right words are there, you just gotta find them and then you have to say them and then keep repeating them and over and over, against the tide of rejection.. drown out the falsehoods.. be alone a while.. 

Fear is not the only thing we have to fear; fear is the only mountain on this planet worth climbing over the top of..

It is quieter on the other side now but just by a little.  We are going to leave up all the pages that should be edited out in order to show the real progression of growth and maturity.. and not give the child the impression one man is at all different than another.. that one is defective.. 

For anyone setting out to create a family we would suggest not having children too close together.. that might have worked in the past but not now.. and just as that family set of survival-skills, (of old), is not useful today, neither is our childhood fantasy escape going to work to get us the resources we need to grow into adults.. I mean, having twelve kids on the farm is good but in the city that won't work unless you're on welfare.. 

I don't know why we gotta flash to Taylor Swift in the special seats now or the game won't be complete somehow..

Our New Madonna...

I don't know why we gotta prove how good we are either.. it's like we forgot we're good unless somebody sees it.. but in reality that never worked.. but we keep going to the dry well.. we don't dig for water; we dig for oil.. 

If we could just put the wisdom of Solomon into some sing-song better than TURN TURN TURN.. have some decent vocal tradition around here.. (we are tenuous with our use of the word "oral").. 

We don't know if we are ever going to get to the editing and arrangement of the thing.. we suspect age would make it appropriate to our son or maturity and daily, face-to-face engagement, intimacy, and anything that is actually good for humanity.. we suspect that maturity would happen naturally and what was "needed," (for the child), would come, or arise out of the Dad.. at the fireside chat and in the bedtime story.. but we can only suspect now, we will never know.. we plop the kids in front to the boob tube and go grasping for comfort our self..

Grown-Up Drinks...

This is our own voice in our own head right now.. rising out of our heart.. unfiltered.. (well, not quite; we're not stupid)..

We don't know when simply loving life became not-enough for somebody.. else.. not us.. not enough for the authority that needed our vegetables.. like we have to go take what our kid's got because we got nothing.. inside.. all that toxic intimacy.. boundary violation.. enmeshment.. feeding off them.. and then going out empty and having to borrow from China.. 

We know China would forgive us our debt if we had any humility about it.. but that will never happen.. we're stupid..

Somewhere back East has got to be our good parent though, she's older than us, we know she must be somewhere..

Where is kindness to come from now, our self?  We can be evil and all fucked up inside and not "act out," we proved.  In the beginning is was for fear of punishment but that will not sustain us for long.. rather it will not lead us to any place other than avoiding punishment, which is only half of life.. and how many more long years of self-care must we endure before we begin to really feel it is the question today.. where is the comforter?

We only have the work of our hands and we remember how much we loved making things for people.. 

Jan doesn't remember calling me a "louse," but I do.

We probably have "hormonal changes," to thank for the quieting of the rage.. (how "gay" is that?).. but we gotta be quick to say we can still "get it up," or we will attract no following at all.. we remember this big rejected kid following us home from school one day, probably the fifth or sixth grade, a big ugly ungainly uncouth kid.. he couldn't find a friend and we had no heart to reject him.. in reality we were afraid of what he would do to us if we rejected him.. he had to have outweighed us by thirty pounds at least.. maybe he was twice our size even.. just a huge kid.. can't remember him bullying people at all.. just a big dumb baby huey nobody liked.. and what the fuck are you going to do with a kid like that?  We suffered his following us home.. we didn't like him any more than anyone else, but, like we said, we were too scaredy-cat to say so.. and somehow Dad was there.. somehow.. how exactly was that?  We don't know.. was it summer?  We don't remember ever seeing this kid again after that day.. but we can still see his face.. Dad didn't come out and interact with us.. I don't know.. maybe the kid rummaged around through our toys.. went around touching the things in our living room.. we recall clearly his singing a song.. "marijuana, marijuana.. L.S.D.. L.S.D.. the principles make it the teachers take it.. why can't we.. why can't we.." (?).. we had a vague understanding of drugs at the time.. and of course our house was more anti-drug than any around, (except for the drug alcohol of course), and we were all prickly from sweat listening to this kid sing that song.. but, luckily, my father kept quiet, from wherever he was.. until the kid had gone.. then he came to us and said, "don't ever bring that kid here again; I don't like the song he was singing."

Now.. all good and bad parenting aside.. (I mean, the poor man was so obviously out of his league).. the point of the story is we don't want no fucking following.

***

GOOD DOG BAD DOG CASE STUDY of one individual universe.. (10pm).. is most like a painting, describing the elements that make up the composition.. and we think it could turn out to be a decent piece of Art.. the problem being the measure of investment.. if this were a stable thing and not given to "mood."  

When we say "the ghosts and I," we really hope that the reader does not get the impression we really believe we are alone here in a roomful of ghosts but we refrain from calling them "the voices in our head," because they are not audible hallucinations; the people whose voices remain in our mind are a mixture of the human engagement we have experienced and the thoughts we have now about "life," and people both real and in some abstraction.. as if there is a "person," a "me," and a "him," and a "they," a "she," and all the rest of it.. but, of course, alone, these people only exist in our mind, and are the memories accurate, did we hear them well, accurately, how did the engagement go, were we very present for it, a little present, were we giving more attention to our own self, the other.. (?).. these questions justify our calling each "mental illness," each "personality disorder," each individual "case," (study), a "universe of its own."

We certainly wish we could be even a little sure of investing our self 100% and making a real, genuine "passion," of the thing, as we hear of the "artist's passion," for his work.. if this is the most important thing in life to us.. 

We grow enraged, we might say, contemplating the "mental-health-situation," (we don't know what else to call it), here in the U.S.A. and we hate the idea that we become so angry as to lose the objectivity necessary to doing a good study; we wish to prove our case but because it is a personal one we run the risk of being "spun," by our own magic, or "charisma."  

Being aware of this possibility is useful but we don't know how useful.. we can say it is like "prostitution," any act of "defending," our self.. it is worse feeling than experiencing our father's "pride," (and none worse than when it was pointed at us); we sincerely would have died in a gutter before seeing him proud of us.. but his of course, again, was fantasy.

We do wish to complain about one serious short-coming, (we see), in the attack on mental illness, in the "mental-health," industry, in the whole social structure that has been con-structed as one tentacle of the big social animal that is humanity on the face of the earth.. maybe it is not the size of an actual octopus arm.. yet.. but it is certainly its own fragment of the beast that is collective man; we cannot understand how this thing, (the "ailment"), is so easily considered a malfunction of a single brain and not a social illness.. we can speculate that we prefer by and large to isolate illness, in terms of germs and molecules.. identify the glob.. isolate and kill it.. and never have to worry, as we would a social illness, that by too near proximity we will "catch," it.

The funny thing about "mental illness," is that it is many times as attractive as it is repulsive, a lot like most people.

To varying degrees, of course.. "birds of a feather," and all that.. but look at the whole freak-show entertainment fad.. of every goddamned generation.. and it's hard to deny people just plain like what's all fucked up and out of the norm.. you'll hear it on every corner.. and worst of all, girls just go in for the worst sort of.. you name it.. ever blessed to be allowed for a minute to swing a penis around.. it just defies all reason and logic.. and I mean, really go in for, to the point of total self-degradation.. to being beaten and murdered.. and we got no problem isolating the "bastard," of the situation, as much as we are mystified by the "victim," in all cases of abuse, wholly unable to free itself.. and why not call the "victim," an "it," I mean, what.. is somebody going to be offended?  POO POO immediately.. but she is an abstraction, like "the poor," or "the enemy," with no real distinguishable "humanity," unless we see her in the court, or to some lesser degree on TV.. or in a coffin.. I mean, let's face it, if anybody is an "it," it's when the "person," has gone, not here.. "left the body."  If anything is an "it," it is a corpse.

Well, for all our isolation of the predator we got no problem calling spousal abuse a "social," illness.. we'll say that.

One night we conducted an experiment on our dog, probably back in Jr. High School, we fired "good dog," and "bad dog," at her in rapid succession and noted her face rise and fall, her demeanor completely transform in seconds, back and forth, never wavering.. she didn't get smart or catch on to the game.. until we felt such a monster we had to stop.  Such, we believe, is the germ of the "personality disorder."

We're going to restrict the fucking TV.. increase the actual human engagement.. (we'll say that to you, Richard), no matter when the real "new year," begins.. we are just rolling into the "dead season," it's like the Catholics can't wreck things quick enough.. nothing dumber that starting things off getting hit in the face with January snow.. which reminds us:

...January snow does not fall from the sky rather it whips itself up from the ground and blows in sideways.  January snow stings the face and pelts it with hale and frozen spit.. or wet breath.. so much colder than ice.  It's no longer the big fat flakes floating so slowly and straight down in a warm silence so thick you can't see the neighbors' houses through it but a haze of grey, and if you can't see through January snow it's because it won't let you open your eyes to it.. even through frosty glass.. it is no more the blanket of pure white, giving the sense of cleanliness and calm, but an unburying of the rot and decay of the most recent Fall.. in patches of frozen black muck.. like spots and sores on pale diseased skin.. January snow, beyond all, falls unwelcomed to them that stare out and wish it had come the December before...

This was the introduction to one of our first short stories though abandoned as it was too much a "fable," and we could not work the details into a believable narrative, rather, we were playing with the surreal nature of life.. metaphor.. possibly we did not want to begin, (our "career"), with a short story.. thinking it would not bring much of a reward we tried to stretch it out into a novel, and the "plot," was therefore stretched and weak.  The story remains inside however, and is a good picture of the "disease," that lives in us.  

We suffer the problem of the "author," who must have his audience present in order to "create," or "perform;" all our first Art, and certainly true of every piece, the person for whom we do it must be a real person; we've read that Kurt Vonnegut wrote everything to his sister.. and we can well understand that, but Kurt, as everyone knows, was schizophrenic.. hoop hoop hoop dee doo.. nothing better than being a mental patient that makes good.

^{Sunday 31 December 2023}

THERE IS NO END TO PEOPLE telling us what life is about but there is a limit to the number of ghosts yapping in one's head at any given time; it doesn't matter how many the mind can hold, (or "hold down"), if they spill all over to somebody else's head.. there is no end to ghosts telling us what life is all about.. 

There is an end to people though.. a silencing of the voice.. oh, here we go.. it's the fucking sixties again.. hooray..

Oh no it ain't.  And we aren't going to yap yap yappity yap it all up.. give everybody some more hooplah concerning what their life is about.. we "worked hard," to figure out what our own pitiful life was about.. quieted some voices.. ignored others.. shouted down a few.. asked some to speak a little louder.. and all we come out of it with is ain't no time has it ever been quiet.. if everybody could just shut the fuck up..

Oh, we do it listening to music, or at a concert, everybody for a minute gets to kind of hear the same voice in their head at the same time.. that isn't going to happen to the world-family, (it could possibly happen to the YouTube family.. but we gotta find the right.. what?).  Everybody's gotta know everybody and heard everybody's voice and have them put in a hierarchical order.. is this what we are thinking?  In the Village Oprah?  Oprah doesn't know shit.  Nobody knows shit anymore because we don't know each other.. everybody's got serial killers living in their heads, cartoons, cops, heroes, Jack Black.. there's just no fucking end..

But there is.  You're goddamned hootin' tootin' right there's an end.. not too many ghosts talking about that though..

Stop listening to hysterical Bob over there.. I mean, oh my god, here we go again with the something intrinsic nature about deep down knowing (or at least thinking), we are "eternal," and hoopty doopty (dupety) doo.. deep down in every child's heart.. well.. according to the Catholics, is darkness and evil.. the Jews think men loved darkness over truth.. at least when Jesus was a Jew.. then there's Islam.. and the eighteen virgins.. where is the soul going to go onto after that period of time.. you gotta ask.. I mean, after the bombs, and Mom.. when you're all tucked into the grave and up there in wherever and the virgins come walking in, thanks for killing yourself.. is eighteen going to be enough to last you all eternity?  And what about when they're not virgins anymore, after you have defiled them?  You want to talk about some dumb ass nonsense concerning what life is about..

Oh, I'm sorry.. Davie Crockett.. are these fighting words?  Relax.. and Hi.. I'm Janet Jibble-Jits, (yes, I'm quasi-married but only metaphorically speaking), and I'll be your host for the evening.. everybody else shut up for a minute.. you, with the bandana.. hey.. no, that guy.. that guy next to you.. tell him to put his phone away for a minute.. yeah, you.. Hi.. Okay everybody we are.. we are not going to play any Metalica to get everybody warmed up but we will play this kid:

ERIC CALDERONE
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Listen or don't if you want.. but what are we celebrating.. the "new year," the now, the then, the ever?  It's a good question, but we can't exactly take a poll here..

We gotta go get a big bowl of cornflakes.. no Mom.. just us..

***

OKAY THANKS.. AND NOW WE ARE going to go to Utica for a minute, no, not the fabled Utica of Uselessisities.. Utica, New York.. where a few forgotten "MAFIA," guys were famous for a minute while hiding.. we don't know what the Oneida County Jail was like back then but in 1999 it was a shit hole and getting renovated, but that's not important, in reality they were building a whole new jail.. but again, completely unimportant.. we were there.. that's the crucial element.

We were back after violating the conditions of our parole for the third time.. and we can probably say with some certainty that that was the "beginning of the end," as people say because we never did go back to New York State prison after that; we did "max out," inside, but by then we only had a month to go and did that last few weeks in "reception," which is a fun story except for the day.. (the day of our release).. we were set to see Jan, we are pretty sure, our best friend at the time, but were smoking drunk by the time we got off the bus.. and she was smoking hot, but not in a good way.. and we hate all this use of other people's "phraseology," from whatever time-period it comes to us.. the spooks in our head have no rule of there own and like to shout at us through the bars.. it's like a "din," now.. what Dad used to call a "dull roar."  And we can say, yeah, Dad, we finally did bring everything down to a dull roar.  But it was still 20+ some years away back then.. and if anyone's heard the real roar of A-Block, (Elmyra Correctional Facility).. that's what the ghosts can get like all locked into one room, when they can't actually get to one another..

There was a day in Utica when we were so terrified it felt like our whole physical body was just going to like, fracture, for real, and fall into a heap on the floor, except it was all noise, and vibrating.. something.. something so fucked up there are no real words for it.. and there was a thought on top of all that screaming, it said, basically, a paraphrase.. Jesus, Richard.. you know, anybody else who had gone through all this you just did.. (everything drinking alcohol has brought you.. all the bad, bad, really really bad bad "consequences"), would sit down and go deep inside.. (we had heard about reaching deep down by then).. he would reach deep deep deeper than every before, and you would think he would, (somehow), "stand up," and.. whatever.. say, "enough is enough?"  I'm taking over?  Anybody else would stand up and say that's it..

So we went deep deep inside that day and you wanna know.. there was nobody fucking there.. swear to fucking God..

And, you want to talk about "terror?"  And there's a good end to this story, or a continuance actually, I mean, it IS today.. the last day of 2023.. thank the holy hell and why the fuck does December have to have 31 days.. (but for us, you see, now, December is only the tenth month of the year.. our year begins somewhere around the Ides of March.. and we never really made that connection until now.. "beware the Ides of March," being at all significant, to kill the Emperor, so hey, today has a purpose).. 

Fear is your best friend kids, we can't say that enough; fear demands you take courage, (if you can't find somebody to give it to you).. maybe that was it.. maybe there just wasn't any ghost in here with the authority to grant us courage, or tell us, believably, that everything was going to be okay.. and now, there's no end to the ghosts in Washington saying they will see to everything being okay.. causing more anxiety.. being full of shit.. and everybody knows it.. I mean, really, you want Joe Biden reading you a bedtime story?  Fucking really think about that.  Think about Joe Biden reading your little nine-year-old daughter a bedtime story, sitting on the side of her little bed.. smelling her head occasionally.. with the fucking hair plugs.. "RIDIN' WITH BIDEN" pedophile aviator glasses and all.. if that don't give you chills.. 

But before we get too tired and forget to tell you about another "concept," to think about, well.. there's two actually.. ALL PROBLEMS IN LIFE ARISE OUT OF THINKING, was the first.. but the second was about the word "HOST," as differentiated not that far from "GHOST."  Really quiet down and think about the host of your body for a minute.. because the Catholics used to talk about the "LORD of Hosts," (the capitol letters are important but not as much here).. yeah, and Paul talking about being held prisoner in his body.. "who will free me from this body of death," and all that.. yeah, it wouldn't be for another 14 years we decided to "take the bull by the horns," for real.. that meant basically making all the decisions, come what may, being the final "authority," in our own life.. yeah yeah yeah we debate in the "senate," all the time.. but when we paint we paint, and there ain't nobody telling my hand what to do but me.

-and basically this is where we are today.. growing like a tree.. so so imperceptively.. 

^{Saturday 30 December 2023}

RATHER ALL GHOSTS HAVE bodies at some point and a mouth and therefore a voice.. oh, everybody has a voice!  Like a song gets stuck in your head.. and we can go back to Jesus again; you can't stop listening to one voice until another takes it's place.. if we have to replace a lower love with a higher one, let's get about it.

Two things from yesterday need a bit of commentary if they are to go unforgotten.. both having something to do with Ronald Reagan.. one is Ronny and the cowboy club.. (Nancy was just a bonus).. one is about the efficiency of the public school system under Ron's care.. but first we can attempt to allow, ("process"), the idea that the cowboy club is a fantasy and the public school system is hated by it.. like anything "publicly owned," these boys are incapable of imagining such a thing can have any need of attention as they do not exist; "ownership," is limited to a single occupant, (and his "privates").  

The myth of the man, we know, will one day go extinct with him, but as their stories meander rather and become dusty books, given attention occasionally by pointy-heads so far out of the mainstream we gotta go to the freak show for a bit of relief and entertainment in order to get any wind of what they think is important enough to live so unattractively about.. which, if we are healthy human beings, ain't often.

We don't have time, of course, to demand of the reader, or impetus to direct him to go watch the videos, but rather "beseech," him to consider the curse and blessing of all "media," (and everything else under the sun); we can't demand he go study Taoism, (even though it really doesn't exist as a noun either), in order to understand the cool Yin and Yang tattoo.. ("yingyang," superball sound man).. the polar icecaps.. or any of the rest of it.. 

THE FLEA ON TV
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WE CAN KEEP MORE than one thing in mind at a time kids but only after the essentials have become like "second nature;" if we have the truth in our bones.. "imprinted," in our heart.. if we can ever sufficiently answer Pilate's "what is truth?"

We here at KLANGORSCRAWLER know one sure thing about "truth."  We know that being truthful, or telling the truth, is the one and only one thing a man can do "perfectly," but we have to limit it to the moment and remove the "in his whole life," thing, or sense that there is some sum of life, or that life is a noun.. (a story is a noun but a hero is not).  And we know we can only ask the reader to "suspend," his "disbelief," for a minute for something more valuable than another episode of ROCKY.  Imagine for a moment that your mind isn't all fucked up and that there are no deep and hidden "unconscious," (and especially "irresistible"), animal bullshit that's going to jump out of the weeds and eat up all your efforts to enjoy life and cracking your bones in its teeth at the same time so that everything you hold and have ever held dear is "POOF," and no more; if we believe that the real "enemy," is some more powerful aspect of this stinking body.. against us.. even if the animal rages against the "angel," we gotta ask "why?" (but that's an whole other lecture); we need move to the second "essential."

The hero does not have to fall from grace.. it is not written in any "Law of God," or inescapable nature.. and here we gotta ask our self, "ho!" -isn't the hero only human and weak and fallible, and given over to his evil nature and lies?  We have so fucked our children they don't believe they are even capable of discerning the truth of things anymore, and throw up their hands, life is "despair," and doesn't matter.. and every other sort of horseshit solution his unformed mind can come up with; by the time his mind and self have formed to any substantial degree it is conditioned to reject authority; his own more than any other.. (if he takes it that far).. he will realize that one explanation is as wrong as any other and his fiction as good.. and hopefully in those last few seconds of breath the real TRUTH will reveal itself and wave goodbye.  The hero is not "destined," to fall from grace and it is not up to the child to "forgive," his authority its "humanity," (humanity is a choice of love or hate); we cannot forgive a man who is not sorry.. but what are we sorry for exactly.. how is "sorrow," understood.. how is it conditioned in.. and most importantly of all, who is the "imposter?"  If we mistake the fear of punishment for "shame," (for example), we will never mature into the real beauty of our shame.. if shame is unavoidable.. and many many more "evils ye do;" all the way to the point where lying to children is not only second nature but good and right we go until the hero not only returns to dust but was never any sort of clay to begin with.. when we need him most he is a big bowl of cotton candy and buffoon.. looking like Clint Eastwood.. and that burns the soul worse than any shame could ever hope to.. 

I had a fucking cunt tell me, "yeah, I know you value the truth more than anything and that should be the way it's supposed to be for most people!" (or something just as fucking child-logic-lie as this).. yes.. and I can go back and copy and paste the text because I printed the whole fucking "chat," out in real material that you can hold in your fucking hand.. groping and grasping to the point that your heart just wants to fucking fold in and be swallowed by its self.. I was just so completely dumbfounded that she could believe that saying this to me would somehow make me want to go talk to her in person.  And I know what's politically correct; you can't say "cunt," and expect to keep your female audience.. and I'll tell you why I don't care; women are so fucked in the head they think they have to become men or man-like to effect change, meaning, they have to build an arsenal of weapons.. (oh, wait, none of them is aware enough to take it that far; they are still largely in the phase of still believing in the pant-suit).. put on a strong voice.. blah bah bah.. so for any artist of any caliber to sit in the audience and listen to congress without wanting to go and get an assault rifle.. I'll tell you she was just pissed she "presented," and I said, "no thank you."  And still is pissed.. "scorned."  Still believing it's all about wearing the right poncho for the job.. she'll spend a few weeks picking out a more flattering wind-flapping ass-peak thing.. get a little more sophisticated in her exhibitionism.. totally too clever.. because it had nothing to do with the lying.. and we know you girls can blame us for making things impossible for you to not lie about everything, and build a nice case for Shapiro and Shapiro to go win you a new car with.. and I'm sorry if I can't express it all unconfused.. it's good enough to provoke someone into proving me wrong at this point.. and I'm talking to all the new little girls with penises out there standing at the big american hat mall.. trying to pick one out.. that's the only place courage is going to add up to anything significant.

If the "political," solution, (that's a good one), is to "produce," conscientious, self-determined, (thinking), individuals who can give an objective mind to the issues humanity places before them.. (jesus, we're already laughing).. you're basically saying the only solution is for every man to be a hero.. 

But we will stop here and suggest that YouTube is the best "savior," of the small man but can be better; any interactory site can be a means of working with one mind, in "unison," and yet remain individuals.. if censorship is not necessary.  Imagine a world where everyone censors their self.  That's so pie in the sky it's too ridiculous to say out loud.. but in reality, unless a boy has a choice between the "dark web," or the fucking what.. (this fucking thing?).. this half-assed algo-rhythmed flashing-bubbles of bullshit.. 

And we can only move on to Nancy now.. because we are getting tired and it's Saturday.. 

RON AND A DIFFERENT NANCY
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Oh yeah, yeah, she's still fucking here.. wait, is she dead yet? Above we were inspired by the Silverlake Conservatory of Music, created by Michael Peter Balzary.. but now we have to move on to something else that amounts to a growing fungus on the earth that need some bleaching out.. congress.  I mean, is there any human being on the planet that does not consider the U.S. Congress a sad fraud?  These people fool themselves?  We can go on to point to all this beautiful human failings in the way "democracy," can get so fucked by industry.. but it boils down to our fault, not theirs.. and not anyone else's either.

FAVORED DAUGHTER
^{Friday 29 December 2023}

SOMEBODY HAS TO BE THE FIRST one to be generous.  Someone has to trust a known scoundrel.  But is it the crushed heart that cannot "repent?"  

Children are so embarrassing.  Don't read this guy, read that guy.  No "son-in-law," that is not hand-picked by the father will ever be worthy because the daughter is incapable of objectivity.  It's the very thing she hates more than anything, this "healthy," thing we call "detachment," now.  I mean, if we can't learn from the natural breakdown of the famed "nuclear," family against the cold calculated "mating," of the monarchies.. if anything has happened again and again over eons, if anything can be described as a mistake we refuse to learn from or cannot be objective about.. it is this infantile and undeniable, irresistible and uncontrollable passion for making America great again.  

Luckily we hated everything "American," when we were nine and better still couldn't deny our own heart too much.

It wasn't good then of course, if this is a paradox of heroism; if this inability to deny one's deepest heart's desire is not a mental illness we won't know what to do about it someday, which is our only "hope," if we can't find anything better than hope.  

The funny thing about "Israel," (if anything is funny about Israel), can be found in the whole "God loved Jacob and hated Esau," thing, because Abraham refused to sacrifice Isaac, and Isaac, the father of Israel the man, (this title, however, was somehow given to Abraham), Isaac loved Esau and hated Jacob, (-for them that don't know the bible, Jacob was later named "Israel").  Now, we kind of like the old Rabbi pouring over these written words and arguing and adding and subtracting.. (the strictest warning in the book of "Revelation," but the Jews don't pay attention to any of that later stuff).. this whole idea that Ishmael was the first born of Abraham.. who should have been sacrificed.. but oh wait, the law had been changed by then.. wait, no it hadn't been.. there is no story of Abraham taking Ishmael to the mountain for sacrifice.. 

We can't expect our children to give all these books all the time it would take to understand them and not become whacked out monks and pedophile priests; it is up to us to demonstrate the value, the legitimacy, the fucking "authority," in the words.. oh yeah.. we still gotta do it.

Bummer man.  But we are rooting for the brown children and the girls.  We so thoroughly hate "white america," we can't even think about it without feeling the fires lit deep in the furnaces of our own hell.  Because we looked out when we were nine and couldn't see anything worth latching onto or going to work, much less fighting and dying for.  We were so mired in dread but did not have any means of giving that dread an "identity;" the worst "evils," so obvious in us were given to all the bad men out there.. and we couldn't be one of those.. we couldn't let on that we were one of them.

Cowardice was the worst of all though.. we were talking about the lesser evils of "stealing," and "lying," and "faking," things.. all the time knowing cowardice must be hidden deeper than all that.. we know because Dad really secretly loved to see us go all "James Dean," on the scene.. 

But the conditioning is such that any attempt to go back and sort through the brain is immediately derailed.

We're basically all fucked up already this morning, is what that means, and need to go outside to have a smoke..

***

MY BEST GIRLFRIEND THINKS that our friendship is ruined if we have sex; oh please, Mr. Wizard, can't you make the worst of all this unavoidable growing up not so?  We like to call it a "self-fulfilling prophecy," and not simple "wisdom," now because everything, like George said, needs four times as many syllables to be efficiently ineffective enough to prove it's invaluability.

But the dilemma remains; we know the minute we start feeling her up it's all over.  Oh, we're inventing all sorts of ways to get our hands on her stupid butt and there's more than enough good sound science to back us up.. (the advisability of moving the lymph fluid around being the most provocative, unless everybody is happy going around feeling their self up).. our fucking skin cries out for contact with this woman.. and what.. we can't tell her about it without being manipulative.. oh yeah.. we know underneath everything is the impetus toward seduction, oh holy mother of christ.. if we know "power," at all, and better than that, "glory," and to top that off.. there's none like it.. we don't even care it takes complete control of us.. (this is why "power corrupts," but again, who cares?).

What's the alternative.. rather why does having sex wreck everything good?  We suspect Catholicism but you never know; it could actually be a dictate of "God," or genuine good nature, which the church has none of.

***

THE ONLY PLAUSIBLE SOLUTION, unfortunately, is in y/our head, (yower), and never to see the light of day, if it is for every man to decide and then make himself the "hero," but the hero never goes willingly into the good long dark night; he must be driven out.  The bachelor monkey, if he is ever to enjoy the "alpha," status.. he's gotta go.. and too mad for man.. I mean, if everybody's doing it, motherfuck that.  We are more willing to go marching into battle, singing a cadence, wearing the same hat better than the next asshole who we love until we see his real "guts;" we go on preferring the imaginary ones.

We still got Jesus!  Holy mother fuck me.. the whole idea science isn't going anywhere good.. I mean, if we can't keep fucking from ruining life by now.. what good is another anti-depressant?  We still got Jesus.  I mean, in the great debate, science vs. superstition, superstition will always win.  "Belief," will always defeat all fact and reason.  Look at Goofy with the horns, (storming the "Capital," -or is it "Capitol?").. what's he doing now?  Hopefully he's in something akin to the "Yates," (county jail), they always gave you two chicken patty sandwiches instead of like, macaroni and cheese from a box.. him and his god.. he probably thinks he can bend steal with his mind by now.. but there's always a paradox.

There is always "making yourself a eunuch," for the glorious kingdom of heaven.. jesus, we gotta do something about over-population.. not like China.. we gotta think of something bigger and better quicker and safer.. there is always something else.. something drawing us back to something Jesus said.. or was reported to have said.. what did he say now? (if we could only have avoided ingesting all that fluoride).  Something about he is me and I am she and we are all.. nonsense!  No, it was better than that, it was connected to the castration, but more of a spiritual thing.. ain't no monkey in the world gonna face that dark night and cut off his balls too.. what are you, crazy?  

Ah.. it'll come to us.. "monkey take jackknife?"  No.. it was better than that.. 

SO SO CLOSE
^{Thursday 28 December 2023}

THERE IS EITHER NEED of "self-improvement," or there is not.. long long long before we ever get to the "how," of it..
      -only long long long johnny silver dong was excused from ever having to worry about.. oh wait, yes he did need to improve.. 

If this is at issue, for anybody, hasn't the universe made you perfect already.. just different, (from every other snowflake); my friend is about to catch on and, "beating her," by twenty years, it's so cute to keep saying it over and over, in as many ways as we can think of, until she is throwing it back at me, calling me "snowflake," rather if it isn't just cute to see a pretty girl act like and old man.. but not just any old man...

That she does it "lovingly," is rather the issue.. but who can stand to be moralized by the better version of his self.. especially if neither really exists at all without the girl.. if we are really all about getting at "identification," we might probably do a little better.. probably pay a little more attention to who we ask to "groom," us for the rest of our days.. 

But that's too far out of a connection to make.. who do we want reflecting us back at us but can't stand the representation.. if we end with the big Art Burning Party.. 

These are probably the "family," things no man should miss, and won't.. (unless he lives in the good ol' U.S. of Ass).

But let's not stray too far from the question of self-improvement, and more importantly what that really looks like, because even though the "classically abby," statures of good ol' grease are bleached squeaky-white now, we can't forget they were once all painted and colorful, and how white-trashy they must have seemed, or seem in simulation.. on photoshop.. like, the parthenon, but that aside, there is no escaping the body paint craze and tatooing nature of man in most every culture, of earings and lip-stretching.. and at the end of it, well, what are we going to conclude beyond there is no accounting for taste.. what about the poor thirteen-year-old girl we can't help imagining who really didn't want a disk in her mouth?

Oh my god "TARA," is such a cave-man name.. like, the complexity of making the "T," sound.. in today's culture it would be, "Ah-ah," I don't know, can the orientals pronounce the "R," yet, but how cute, like we really want them suddenly speaking like us.. except for the singing, or there is no way to mix like Jazz and all that "toi-gnak-EEEEEE-yow," sounding noise, (and we can't even stand too much Jazz.. we can take Jazz for about three minutes, but only when it's really good and sounds like blues).  But are we going to let the kids decide which disks they are going to put in their mouth?  It's like a dog can't see a rainbow.. (some kids book we got that from).. until one did, but that goes against nature and therefore can never happen anywhere but in the fantasy.. much like human-improvement, probably.  We have no idea how bad we rake the nerves of the orient just by speaking in our softest bestest well trained and talented too voice.. like we can pick out the snowflake with the most potential to become.. what.. a snowman?  An avalanche?  And we really could do it; we could go down to the microscopic particles and robot-remake the snowflake now.. certainly we can.. the only problem would be the micro-nutrients of an apple probably number in the thousands, and could be infinite, given the soil.. but it's easier to buy a bottle of flintstone vitamin c.. which has its best effect as a placebo anyway.. at least the nutrition industry is getting something too, a purpose.. and isn't that what we all want?  

TARA must be some mystical sound.. like an incantation.. we don't know.. all we know is it's all just a cute little phase.

We once pondered the probability everybody in the world hates jazz music, (secretly), but keeps listening and going to the club, saying how much we love it, because we also think we must be missing something and can't afford to.. I mean, is there anybody playing the same jazz song.. is there even such a thing as a jazz song.. over and over on the old 33 player.. sorry, the "vinyl?"  We gotta get this right.  Who is going to summon the courage to stand up and say jazz doesn't have any clothes on?  (without being "shushed").  Maybe we could consider the only thing that doesn't last in the world is the "shhhhhhh," for all it's repeating itself.. we have to give it to Jazz for always being different.. probably recording Jazz is a mistake.. maybe the whole point is to be elevator music, or like, YouTube autoplay going all night while we are sleeping, so we don't have to feel alone, it doesn't matter it's just some over-recorded crap we didn't like or listen to to begin with.. like politics, and world policy.. we can make up parables about the rich man and Lazarus.. and even if it's not true we know deep down it is.

Jesus, if we gotta now "get in touch," (and accept), our dark shadow, and our "feminine," side too.. holy mother fuck me.. what else is in here?  That was yesterday's thing anyway.. the need to live with our darkest dark in order to experience our brightest light.. I'll tell you the invention that's going to sweep the post-kill-me-instead-of-your-self era is going to be the auto-erotica-neck-belt.. DIY.. device.. I'm telling you it's the best way to go because you don't cut off your air.. just ask San'ann Watts.. and don't fucking come at me for being fucked up.. I didn't fucking do it.. but I did actually hang myself by my own shoe-laces in jail so fuck you.. after about two weeks of hallucinatory hell.. I don't need to hear anything from anybody.. with the experiences I've had.. I know the bliss of dying like that.. you even forget that you just did it to yourself for a moment.. you don't even realize you just pissed your pants.. (on an aside, we were lucky to be so impacted, constipation-wize.. worse than any heroin junky we ever heard describe it).. you don't even want to complain there's no "bright light," it's just slowly turning down a dimmer switch, you can feel every nerve ending buzzing itself numb.. it's perfect peace.. but to become an Adam Ford?  No.  And think we gotta make a school out of it?  Better to keep quiet, or the government will put a moratorium on using the auto-erotica thing we just invented.. they'll make you strap it on your gramma.  Bad enough we gotta imagine how pissed off Chris was when his daughters woke back up, after "soiling," their sheets.. you want to try and figure out why he's gotta do laundry all the sudden.. we can only fantasize he's gotta hear that little girl say, "no Daddy," until somebody cuts his liver out.. like he's got coming.

Which brings us to "KARMA," (almost the "tara" sounds mixed all up), karma pretty much demands self-improvement.

***

WHOLLY UNRELATED TO ANYTHING we went searching for a greater identification of feeling and would like to report where the decision has led us; we are used, we should say, to being wrong but persist nevertheless in our pursuit of maximus-potentillius.. INNER.. potentilliousness.. of course..

^screenshot

DOES THIS NOT SEEM STUPID or at least contradictory to anybody but us? I mean, we say it all the time, usually without thinking, and we might think with all this push toward the superiority of all the "spiritual," things in life, (over the base material), somebody needs to point out the contradictory nature of these two feelings, or at least pay a little closer attention to mindless repeating of comfortable things.. like when we want "thanks," to be enough even though we feel it is not.. saying, well, we certainly owe you gratitude.. (maybe we'll have some someday). Again, we are usually wrong. Maybe we don't understand the nature of having had a "favor done for us," so we looked into that, and well, in this sense, a "favor," seems to be a "noun," more than whatever liking one thing more than another is, as in "favoring," if that's a verb, it can be seen as a "spiritual," one, we think.. but we are no closer to reconciling these feelings. And we really hate to be provocative or controversial but to us it seems almost abusive to do favors if it ultimately makes people feel like they owe us something, especially for something so fluffy as a favor.. as defined thus:

^screenshot

Okay, maybe not "fluffy," maybe more wet and warm.. and more commonly known as a "mercy-fuck."  And who writes these examples?  We might be conditioned to think a favor needs to be asked for, in which case "debt," is likely, if she gives it to us grudgingly anyway.  I suppose we could take a closer look at what "kindness," is unusual, or over-the-top.. and why should kindness be "due?"  That seems very strange.  Who in the fuck.. (made this shit up)?  Kindness seems kind of inescapable.. meaning you can be an asshole to an asshole.. that's perfectly in kind, but somehow not "kindness," like we want it to be.  What the hell?  Why should being "kind," have to be all nice and shit?  Like there's some confiscation of the word.. to be "kind," what does that really mean.. if being un-kind to an asshole is not to be like.. or "liken."  

It's the confusion of trying to work and think in the evening; we shouldn't be thinking at all, and certainly not talking.. the evening is time for silent communication at home.. what is it, the "vagus," nerve, (we think it needs capitalization), the tenth cranial nerve.. how romantic is that now... holy moly.. expectations splecfectations.. who programed this shit?  He needs to be fucking fired.

SHAME
^{Wednesday 27 December 2023}

THE NATURAL PROGRESSION OF POSSESSION, (it seems obvious to us now).

There is a reason that motor-things, boats and snow-mobiles and all the like are seen as "toys," and called so.. and yet there is no insult taken!  It is because a child cannot experience "shame," from within as any natural "empathy," might produce in him because there is no sense of proper size in the universe in a child; he can only be made to feel afraid, (from without), by the use of punishment and threats of punishment.  

***

WHAT IS A "GRAVEN IMAGE"
^screenshot

WHAT THE LORD "COMMANDS," cannot be altered, (what we think of as "denied").. so.. if the "commandments," were in fact promises of what was to come, (possibly as the result of maturity, of becoming "complete," or "perfected"), the words, "thou shalt not make a graven image," in a personal sense would mean we no longer have to fantasize about anything, or worse, draw pictures to entice anybody else, provoke jealousies, etc. all etc...

But how are we to live without toys?  THINGS rather.. how are we to live without things.. in the natural progression of possession, we can only feel of our self possessed.. driven by some unholy master.. we must GET.. something.. and then someONE... because the image is us; the "construct," and "concept," is more US, and more "real," than the thing we are holding in our hand.. all the way to the "imprint on the brain."

Take your pains now children.. take your pains now.

And what magic incantation can we utter for the child.. what hex and good spell; what song can we sing?  There has to be a simple way to communicate the beauty of age.. to have a "lap," to crawl up into that doesn't turn into the worst of all betrayal.. I mean, "break," a fucking horse, break a bank.. break anything you want.. but leave a child's heart alone.  People have no sense of the beauty of the perfect trust anymore, that perfect trust as a beauty on the earth that has no equal, perfect trust as a mystery that can never be explained and need not?  It need not.

But we can barely remember it..

Only Donny wants his bowl of cornflakes from Mommy back.. he wants his "America," to be great again.. forgetting those boxes of cereal were all bought on credit, still to be paid for by his douchebag children's great great great.. (well, probably not that many generations left to man).. grandchildren.. 

HATS OFF GENTLEMEN!

CHRISTMAS
^{Tuesday 26 December 2023}

WE DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO with "Christmas," anymore.. probably the fullish moon yesterday didn't help.. except that the whole "conjunction," of crap led us to the very heart of our own little personal fury, to the depths of our own little personal "misogyny," and grief, to the height of our own little personal "dream," and heartbreak.. the insanity.. the beauty and splendor.. and left us again in a place of wonder and speechlessness; we are quite happy to enjoy a greater "objectivity," (we can say that with whole heart), if we don't know to whom exactly we owe our grand thanks.. we'll thank Alan Watts as a proxy to the great "AM I," (and totally ignore any call to proper usage, -if such is the gift of a devil's envy)...

He was talking about the two great and more-or-less contemporary myths that serve as proxy kings now.. we suppose as a lead-in to the point, as denoted in the title of the video at least, namely, "HOW TO DIRECT YOUR MIND," which we don't think he got to; we don't know.. we fell asleep.  But we can't expect the kids to take the time given us to study out every goddamned thing we tell them.. we have to be believed simply, automatically, and fully; we cannot "break their trust," or their own little personal "spirit;" we can't continue to yank our cock all day and expect allegiance from anyone but a.. well.. we don't have time to take that thought to its natural conclusions of all looking around here.. if our little youtube-family is at stake.. we don't need another cult-o'-dick.. even if that's all we ever wanted genuinely we can still be objective even when it comes to that.. Tara, therefore, should be easy.. we don't even think Alan got to the point.. fucking motherfucks.. rather we aren't any better at direting our mind today than yesterday.. except for WOO WAY, (we don't care about the spelling, yes we do.. "Wu wei," is the proper spelling).. he was asking how we are to direct the mind to not direct the mind, pointing out that paradox of complete contradiction of it all.. rather fascinating, if not exhausting.. which brings us to our fascination with Tara Mooney.

Tara gave us something for Christmas too and she'll probably wish she hadn't one day.. if not today.  Where people take a message seems not entirely up to them now, if it ever was.. she made us look up the origins of "LIVE AND LET LIVE," and what a curious search that turned out to be, all English merchants and coin minting and Dutch colonies.. (one supposes).. as if anything good can come out of Francis Drake's pearl mongering.. how in the bleeping HELL are we going to get that story right; the damage the money-changer-speculations do to the world.. the entail.. the message carrying.. and the foolishness of trusting a piece of paper.. the "promissory note," and the "bit-coin," bullshit pyramid.. we don't have to ask who builds pyramids again because it is always the slave.

Children of alcoholics find it difficult to follow along, but, as a balancing gift they can tell you the tone of a thing, (gauge the tone of a voice), perfectly, and the only more fucked up people in the world are institutionalized mental patients.. but the beauty of the asylum is it doesn't need a "God," of any merit.. not with pharmacology in full swing.  Yes we don't know the difference between one ology and another.. the mixing of chemicals in the air.. we don't know what sort of explosion would take place if we got too close to a hot wire like.. (no names need mentioning).. it could all turn out to be a cold plate of sushi.. (never take a guy that's never had sushi to a sushi bar for his birthday.. especially if you're engaged to be married).  Jesus, what a life.

We took the whole of yesterday off the publication but we are going to put it right back in.. it is going against our newly adopted principle of give and let give to immediately censor our self before the fucking thing ever gets off the ground.. it's a great mystery kids, (GOOD LUCK -we mean that sincerely).. nothing should make sense without the whole story.. no one should see the dangers of promises.. the foolishness of paper.. the horror of the fallen hero.. the stages of growth.. and most of all the beauty of natural imperium.

We followed all this up with a meditation on the beast rising out of the water.. the great whore.. (it's always a whore).. the impostor!  Then.. the ten righteous heads sitting around the table at headquarters of the world imaginary money fund.. (all caps).. blame the girl.. (that goes right back to "ADAM").

Nonsensical giggerish.. but we're hoping the tone of the thing gets transmitted, (for lack of a more beautiful word).

And what do we think of now but putting Donald Trumps finger on "the button," the unholy "nuclear," button that's been a torment since we can remember crawling under our stupid school desks in a drill, (just drill my ass please), as if our little mighty school desk would fling the nuclear wave off into neverland.. so safe and protected from communism.. YAY!!!  YAY YAY FUCKING YAY.  That fucking douche bag:

"...we got nuclear weapons.. why can't we use them?..."

                                                                                                                    _{-Donald Trump}

We'll stay right here in the house of fucking mourning thank you all very much.. and I don't want to have to go back and find the video where I heard that quote.. and don't need to because there's hundreds of thousands of "red-hatted-americans," every bit as goddamned stupid as this asshole ever hoped to be.

***

BUT FOR TARA we'd say "classically abby," is about as "man-hating," as any woman we've ever seen.. and her venom is just as toxic in all the ears that watch her foolishness, her trying to convince herself she's right.. it's incredible, how a girl can be so tripped up by her own cleverness.. like she's trying to find the most unique way to fuck the living fuck out of "dude," (and not in a good way).. but the husband will have to do.. just you wait and watch sweetheart..
In the end you'll see that children do not have the capacity to "care," for others in any abstract way, and adults can only operate on the abstract.. (how to deal with "the poor," for example.. well, for one thing, you don't go rubbing elbows with them!).. but somehow children usually stop just prior to murder.. murder is a thing that you gotta travel pretty far down the "me," trail to get all the way to.. and most kids aren't so naturally conditioned out of hearing the great man.. you gotta really really really fuck somebody up.. then take away his environment.. put a "medication," in it's place.. I mean, you look at 90% of all fuck-fuck murder is now the entail of "mental health," drugs..
But a child is like a confused Bill Wilson, who comes to realize he has to care for others to stay alive himself..

The only real question after that is, "how important is your own little personal 'life?'" -and good luck seeing it as anything but an abstraction anymore.. but you can do it.  If my life is going to be a story.. I'm not going to let my cleverness fuck me; cleverness is only relevant when there is somebody else to shout, "how clever you are!"

IRONY
^{Sunday 24 December 2023}

KIDS CAN HANDLE ANY TRUTH we think no matter at what age they hear it; they'd better be able to.  Our first thought was a command/warning to boys; "you had better learn to take your pains now."  We find our self spouting off in the morning and with no ears around to soak it up the noise just bounces off the walls and returns to our own.  We recall vividly the terror of the evening.  When I told my boy I was going away he wasn't devastated, he just said, "can I go with you?" So bold.

We think Bill might have done better to go a bit deeper into "fear," (as a social ill), and maybe really gotten to the bottom of it; we are so tired of the promise of "quick and easy, safe and simple."  We see all around us the necessity of hard training if anybody wants to really turn his natural abilities into some useful servant.. and all the while this nagging drag on the will.. and are we going to fall back on the "God," so talked up to be all-knowing, all-present, all-everything except responsible.. for anything.. ("all-loving," is our personal favorite).. question mark.. meaning, if ever there was a deadbeat dad around.. too busy with somebody else's prayers.. always the favored child.. the honor student.. we are thinking of our dog stuffing the runt of the litter under the blanket at some point after giving birth to it and as kids we thought she had lost it, or it had crawled under there by itself.. our dad explained she had more puppies than nipples.. he used to say, "we got more kids than brains," too.. but nobody listened to the words exactly; we were too far tuned into the tone of voice.

The last thought was about a nun one time told us how she dealt with the bogus "miracle of feeding of the five thousand," story; she said she had heard somebody tell her once that everybody had food hidden in their shorts, that this was the way of the poor but that as soon as the crowd saw the followers of Jesus passing out what little they had, (perhaps taking none for themselves), they opened up their own little "Abrahamic-Pocket," and gave away their little most prized and hidden possession.. and at the end of the day, after gorging thier selves, feeling fat and happy, they found out that together they had enough to give a personal basket to each of the twelve sons of Jacob.  We think that's how the story went.  Or enough for each of the disciples to take a basket home to Mom.

We are so conditioned to believe there is not enough to go around but we haven't the balls to kill the runt outright. All this justice-seeking is for somebody else; as long as you believe it is 'of "God,"' you won't be daring to punish Larry.  Oh yeah, we think Larry knew all about what was coming.  We think Benwhateverthefuck knew what was coming.. and just let it happen.  Maybe all fathers sit back and watch the boys fight it out.. it's a disgusting name.. everybody likes to see the favorite win.. everybody hates disease and dying.. it's not exactly a virtue.. and all this need to talk our self up gets a bit tiresome.  We prefer to call it all out from the safety of our little keyboard here.

The "extinction," of man seems the only rational and logical "prediction," to make and we are pretty good about it.  It's just so far out, so incomprehensible.. it leaves us speechless.  There we find real comfort however, no more recorded things.. no more lies.. no more of everything everybody hates deep down.. no more us.

The Christians think we hate Paul.. (the glorious "drag-the-gentiles-along" master of words).. we just heard a bit of history we were surprised to hear of the reported "misogyny," of old Greece, everywhere in the world except for.. Sparta!  Who would have thought?  The hatred of the feminine in the man.. why women should be so hard on us is beyond me.. and if you've ever seen a woman's whole shit shift the moment she brings a boy into the world.. well, you don't know life yet.

***

WE'LL END today by suggesting "psychology," is a good end to all asking "why" and why not meaning holy fuck-fuck me.

 Yes, he's babbling gibberish again Ma.. why did we ever teach him actual words, remember how cute all that was?  Yeah!

The greatest irony today was recalling Ted's last interview before execution still wanting to gp feeling like people liked him.

AND WE GOT BETTER THINGS to do
^{Saturday 23 December 2023}

_{PURSUANT TO YESTERDAYS' theme.. -the idea that "love," and "fear," can co-flow.. (pulsate the nervous system at the same time).. no; we felt the need to "explain."  As we began to see the need to abandon the childhood coping strategies.. well.. you figure it out; we don't want to spoon-feed the reader around here.}

THE THING ABOUT BUZZY was Buzzy wasn't Buzzy either, (on the Farm that wasn't a Farm).. Buz came along too soon, by two months.  We feel like opening the whole book seriously talking about our youngest sibling, (we don't know how Buz would feel about it; last we knew he was asking to be called "Victor," and that was way back when some dumb shit like "Y2K," was still a few good years away from being "coined," -but we don't want to think about "money," so soon).. and yeah, we might hope they're all scared as fuck of us now.. not knowing what we'll do, when we'll show up.. (what "condition," we will be in).. but we are older now and pretty sure they all own guns; we might hope the men of the family are still getting out there getting all the things a man needs to be a man better than the next guy.. we say this because we wouldn't naturally put anyone on "Front Street," (we learned better, for one, but for two, we can recall feeling deep down that embarrassing someone was pretty low and that that's why God invented gossip as a less ugly way out).  We want Buzzy to be comfortable reading about his self as seen by someone else.. we might wish we could say the same for the rest of them.  Buzzy came too soon on the farm, or at a bad time, he might have weighed four pounds or less.. 

The darker sides of us was always curious as to "why," this happened, if we could put a moment to the "turn," (in the family), it was this "last straw," we figured, (at least for our mother), if the early birth was the beginning of the disintegration.. rather the darker sides always wants a bad reason, and can usually find one soon enough, if that's what always happens, that's why.  Maybe the best thing about "maturity," is being quiet enough finally to look back and see there was no "point."  And here we can laugh at the vocabulary we got stuck with.. (maybe give a nod to all "science," for smoothing out some of the roughest points on the religious talk).. there was no "point," at which the thing turned, (and probably no point in very much of anything else.  We speculated for a time over the cause of the premature birth of our little brother, (is my point), given to an otherwise "healthy," woman.. not even thirty years old at the time.. if the rest of us were not exactly "blessed," with every sort of natural attribute, we had our share of enough, so, little Buz became as much of a focus on the farm as anything could be; if it's natural to do a rain dance when it's dry and a sun dance when it's not.. we were about as natural as anybody else alive.  

We will get to all that and hopefully the reader will find it worthwhile to have given this story some time.  Buzzy became as much of a focus as that mean white duck that skulked around the farm.. and the beauty of kids is they don't see lines too clearly.. meaning, adults can't really look at the far off horizon of tree-tops and pick out very much of one tree from another but kids can't tell the earth from the sky.. the duck was kind of a funny thing for those old enough to know what a duck is; it was a big white duck with red eyes that our father said was waiting for its "mate," to return from whatever it was out doing.. which now means no matter how long it took.. the monkey would say the duck is too stupid to come to any sort of good cognition about the whole delay.. no ability to see things as they are.. meaning after one or two winters most any creature with any sense is going to fly away and go find another mate.. or jump out in the road.. but to the old folks the duck was an amusing thing that chased the kids around the yard.. and not in any fun way.. we remember standing at the screen door looking out as far as we could see, and still not going outside.  But the duck got it's head chopped off and took his, (or her, -nobody knew), last run-around.. in a slow spiral, we remember the blood squirting out of its neck was quiet.. we were warned to stand back.. and yeah, that thing ran in a circle, maybe three circles, each one a little smaller than the one before.. maybe six or eight circles.. slower and slower.. and then it stopped and fell over like a tree. 

to be cont...

***

HIDING IN PLAIN FRIGHT MIGHT be a better way of expressing things; the weed thing in A.A., what used to be known as "marijuana maintenance," well.. we just woke from a dream where we had taken up the habit our self, hiding it immediately from someone, and also drinking but not alcoholically somehow.. the magic pot in the dream we'd found somehow magically enabled us to have just a couple drink and stop, just like we always wished we could do, rather we had no craving for alcohol after taking a drink of it.. and quite happy about it.  But it was a troubling dream, deeply disturbing, as most afternoon naps are for us.. in it we found our self again struggling to get away.. (and this time to go somewhere and smoke a joint).  We record it for the difficult feelings involved and experienced during the dream.  We have been forced to confront the seriousness of our childhood conditioning, the "trauma," of our mother's collapse, her repeated hospitalizations and returns, the destroyed sense of intimacy it caused and the subsequent "clinging," to one and then another woman that defined our "sobriety," until 2012.. and thereafter fighting the habit of being "sucked in," to the promise of romance.. and the expectation that intimacy is THE BAD THING.  And people complain all the time we need to "let go," and "be vulnerable," and learn to deal with the "messiness," of emotional entanglement.. so we are always caught in indecision that comes with each new stirring of "love," complicated by the necessity of having stable, "healthy," people in our smallest circle; what exactly IS a "strong woman?"  

We simply mention the "locked up," grief, (of losing our mother so young, but not to death, rather to confusion and coming and going.. and how different she is, which, we didn't know was due to medications and shock treatments), we mention the real business of the "personal inventory," of the going where we feel good.. the being way way way too too comfortable feeling good, so that we have to lock it away in a safe, guard it with secrecy and suspicion.. batter and abuse it.. and ultimately watch it suffocate..

We don't know if our nervous system should ever be "healed," or "re-conditioned," to any satisfactory degree.. we just know we are not giving in to the habit of chasing what feels good in sobriety.. (that's what booze was for).. we have learned there is no substitute, and looking for sure comfort is not the way; quick-go-to comfort does not exist only sure belief, and alas, listing anything we genuinely believe in we find our self putting "God," at the very bottom; alcoholics enjoy a spot about ten notches below that.. 

We might give a nod to "mindfulness," and "DBT," therapy, and anything that hints at getting to the bottom of our "beliefs," (especially the twisted ones), we watch men chase the very things they chased all their drinking lives in an attempt to finally make their beliefs serve them and finding the need to pretend they are.. we know A.A. by and large hates criticism.. the threat to any "God," is punishable by flames and the threat of eternal flames.. we can almost laugh if we weren't so alone in our "rigor," which we regard as made hot by twisted belief, so we say, "you're right," to A.A. only hold in reserve as yet everything we are going to do about it; we see the paradox of "serving others," as the only real way to serve our self, if serving somebody is unavoidable, (as Bob Dylan claims).. we rather think of god as a verb, or a "what," and not a noun; we look at the Hell "God," has made of the earth as a "he," (with a capital "H"), and wonder how so many men can still cling to that concept; as if calling their god an "it," is so so offensive.. we only have to ask why?  And we'll end the thought with a speculation of where this big "I AM," got started, this consciousness of the self, and what is necessary to "identity," if it is simply another face looking back at us.. we can see the call to never making a "graven," image as good sense then, as it limits the other face to being alive, animated, responding, and engaged.. it lends itself to the idea that all of "God," goes between people, that is can only be between two people that the identity of either one might be had at all.. what are we going to do, wander the jungle looking at rocks and trees and monkeys to see "who," we are.. or worse, carry mirrors along everywhere we go.. even if we took the rocks and trees and made them into great structures and bridges and everything useful and beautiful under the sun we would still need some other face to smile about it or clap for our achievement to let us know we did a good thing.. or we can just climb up on our bridge and jack off into the long dark night ahead...

^{Friday 22 December 2023}

PRIORITIES ARE CRUCIAL DUH but who is going to decide our fucking priorities if not us?  And what's with all this big necessity-of-agreement about everything?  Meaning, we've spent more time talking about establishing principles than we could even dream of having at our disposal for something greater than agreement.  First priority today would be making sure we don't make another promise.  But as we picked up yesterday, we can't just lay down a love without replacing it with a greater one.. (such as smoking cigarettes).. we can't avoid making promises until we establish a greater love than appearing to be a caring, committed, loyal and at-the-ready.. whatever.. which is the basis of most promises we made; the need of "support," or some on-our-side person.. all this fucking backlash for doing something alone.. something nobody sees.. something nobody's going to recognize we did until long after we have done it.. the only thanks is going to be ours.. and that calls for "authority," to receive thanks and not feel "undeserving," like, the fucking universe can have all the credit it wants, as far as we are concerned.

^{Thursday 21 December 2023}

YEAH NOTHING LIKE A DREAM WITH A MORAL we were thinking.. and there is just no way in the world to capture or illustrate the intensity of the color and potency of the thing, the thing of your, it was your "page," or image, or something, and to present it as mine.. because everything in a dream, no matter how bizarre, is accepted and believed without question.. so we leave it alone.. 

Nothing like the dream with the perfect plot, rather.  This is what we were talking about previously, that guy that tells you the story of his dream and it is laid out like a perfectly designed joke.. like the guy at the A.A. meeting who thinks of the most clever way to suck cock that day is the winner.. you know that guy, we heard it just Monday, he told us that on the way to the meeting he'd said to himself, "just try not to learn something," or he made it his goal try and not learn something.. and "failed."  I mean.. could have happened but it's more likely he was thinking that line up while the "sharing," was coming around to him.. I mean, who talks, (to his self), like that?  Especially driving.. when all your body wants to do is kill something.. Yeah.. please don't be a dancing monkey.. and don't be a cocksucker.. and tell us when you wake up.

***

WE HATE TO HAVE TO BE so "incredulous," we really do, and people don' like us that way either; they love us.  To love without liking.. or to be stuck in the "love/hate," thing, it's like "doubt," in church; people gravitate toward "doubt in church," but are so troubled by it all they can do is repeat a line in the book.  It's like, "yeah, I feel exactly the same way," but wait, at the same time they're thinking "but you're fucked up.." (or everybody thinks you are rather, or have expressed that sentiment, but in kind terms).. 

^{Wednesday 20 December 2023}

QUICK EASY SAFE AND SIMPLE can suck our balls; we like long hard risky and complex around here, (hence the exploding popularity); maybe "intimacy," or the search and seizure of it, is actually a backwards drive.. if most of the rest of all life seems more like one long exercise in being alone.. or learning to stand alone.. maybe it's just the male monkey in me, this revulsion of the creepy imposed marital intimacy.. if we can invent a more efficient Hell.. (we would have by now).  People think I'm the guy that makes all this up...

Well, we had a "justice," dream this morning, woke up on it, where long hidden evidence of some deep corruption was finally in hand; we can never recall the exact details, just the theme, we had it in our grubby little paw and were set to go public.. (then the whore flew in).  And there's always two things happening simultaneously in our dreams, but we don't want to drive the reader away talking about dreams; he's going to get all whatever and suddenly feel like he's got to tell us one of his.. happens every time.

***

THE FARM WAS NOT A FARM in the most general understanding of the word, it was not even a farm in the archaic scheme, if anybody remembers the "verb," as separate from the "noun," (the "action" word, as opposed to the "person, place, or thing," that was being verbed around by somebody else), originally, to "farm," meant to suit up with metal and jump on the horse and go steal livestock and pumpkins from the peasants, or rather "collect rent," (or more closely perhaps "protection-money," in the form of goats and hay), but we can't afford to quibble now.  And we are supposing, of course, as our dictionary maintains, the peasant was responsible for providing his landlord a night's entertainment, or something like that, in exchange for growing cotton.. or cucumbers.. or whatever the fuck we make in test tubes these days.. on his land; our farm was not a farm in that no crops at all were ever grown there or any sort of "livestock," kept, not on our land, and we never even called it "the farm," until we moved away off of it.

Nobody talked about the farm more than Debbie.  And we have to pause here a little bit and really ask ourself if this woman would want her story told to the world.. would she think it in any way significant or purposeful to the larger, more pronounced story of the day; would she simply feel immediately ashamed by suddenly seeing her name in print?  We are thinking in the new "both/and," fad of speculentations and clothes.. because we really do like the deep and complex when it is not thrust upon us by some proxy landlord with a toothache.. we like our own mysterious depth and wonder, not really giving much of a shit how we might grow a bigger ear of corn.. and we are not going to spend too much time in some lame attempt to "foreshadow," any future events as we should; it is important to know, as not everyone can "relate," that to a young sibling an older sister can be the absolute sun in the sky.. and, well, exactly how and how the sun might feel about it, she gets an inordinate amount of attention, we think, just by being there.

Everything under the sun is of course everything under the sun.. there's no real point in making too big of a deal of it...

-to be continued

HERE'S ANOTHER ONE
^{Tuesday 19 December 2023}

YOU MIGHT THINK GOD COULD HAVE made love equal.. I mean, if there is anything more important than "falling in love," around here, we don't know it, but that it's never equal, or "reciprocative," and therefore maddening; if love is maddening rather, or the worst thing anyone could hope for, that's probably why.

And this is not a new commentary, none of very much of anything is new, beyond wishing it was; unchanging nature might be why we all hate laws and things.  It is useless to argue anybody "loves," the law.  Maybe Wyatt Earp.  I mean, is this guy a myth?  Like mutual love?  That would be worth figuring out.

This is actually where we were starting yesterday before the A.A. meeting put us off our head.. winning the unwinnable seems to be the one purely "American," quality that is universal among its sufferers, and we mean people who have to suffer being "American," if anybody really wants to be anymore it's because they weren't born here.  We are the total shit-bag of the world right now, or rather, only "loved," in the way Ceasar was loved.. if that's what a man really wants, et tu Brute; meaning absolutely we all want to be empiror.. (and we are spelling it the way we choose because we are talking about personal "empirium" as it relates to "imperium," on the microcosm of social fuck-fuck); we would like to think a man can rule his self without hating the "emperor."  Meaning... 

Where does "rule," really originate?  (this sense that we have some say in what we do)  And how can we lose such a thing?

Because in these courts of the helping fields it is widely accepted that I just want what I can't have... which is fine, I mean, who really cares?  Except in love.. or in "love," or "in love," does anything matter?  Not really.  That's our immediate reply.. and no where worse than work.. Jesus, when we are hating work.. we might as well shoot our self.  Because we set our self up to fail, we are in love with the "self-fulfilling prophecy," we ain't exactly thinking about the wife when we're jacking off with her.. or if we are it is because of some twisted abnormality.. (the growing DSM-5 will see to it that everything under the sun is abnormal, given enough time).. we love to feel like the only alien in the room.. I mean, is there anything worse than running into someone that reminds us of us?   That sappy guy.  Oh, sure, it's all about accepting our worst personal evil and not killing the next guy for it.. but that only works when people love the law.  

We can go on to say it was a pretty slick Roman plan to get everyone to excuse the Law, (proper), while giving up imperium at the same time; it's a doctrine that shows the real brilliance of Paul, (the goodest of gooder apostles), if a man wants comfort to his own fuck-fuck.. rather if things can only be granted from above, he better start believing that, "I and the father are one," isn't just some sound-good awesome incomprehensible bullshit, but a real motherfucker of a must-do now.

***

AND CAN WE CROSS OUT "JOURNEY," and substitute "phase," at least?  Unless somebody wants to describe his journey as a long bout of "managing," his "mental-illness-symptoms," I mean, who can get excited about that as a life?

BACKYARD PHASE ONE
^{229 x 310 mm. (9 x 12 1/4 in.) ballpoint ink on "charcoal" paper}

SKETCHED LARGELY WITHOUT THOUGHT rather considering balance more than content in terms of "composition," the flow of emotion, but more than all of that we knew before we started that whatever happened, whatever we wound up looking at, (when our eyes began to fill with sand), we were satisfied it would only be a phase of the thing.

And we don't know very much more we can say about anything else as it might concern the composition of the day.

WINNING THE UNWINNABLE
^{Monday 18 December 2023}

'IF YOU WANT WHAT WE HAVE and are willing to "go to any length," to "GET" it...' (-a portion of the chapter "HOW IT WORKS," from the "big book" of "ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS," read at the beginning of many many A.A. meetings, and we would complete this famous phrase, (the teaser), by stating clearly that you are then ready to go get fucked.. so.. prepare to bend over please.  I mean, we can also say of this, "give us something to be attracted to," anymore, (but we got the courts now filling beds all across the land.. but that's a separate issue.. they want us to want something they got so bad they're willing to let us out of jail to get it).. but we will move on.

We can remember when, "if-you-can't-beat-'em,-join-'em," was not good enough for us.. it still isn't.. and we hope it never will be.  Because we are still hearing, "you-are-overthinking-things," all the fucking time.. but we want to point out that living with a "paradox," is not the same as living with the "cognitive dissonance, (dissidence)," that is created in you by your local sociopath in authority asking you to accept the unacceptable.. bend over.. and shut the fuck up.. or rather, go on ranting but it's not going to change anything, as witnessed by the hippies who couldn't beat 'em, and hence became them, much like the New World American Christians became the same old cock-sucking Church of England that they sailed the fucking Atlantic Ocean to get away from.. "you are overthinking things," means, don't question incongruity, by insisting the new guy is all caught up in "philosophical-bullshit," because it's all full of reason and common sense and, "we can't afford to be beaten by rational thought."

We might qualify today's "lecture," by saying, 'for all those in whom intimacy and empathy are, "THE BAD THING,"' because that's basically who we are writing to.. US.. and the U.S. too.. because it is not cognitive-dissonance exactly to say, "you can't be a rebellious mother-fucker without being unpatriotic," (that would be a coincidence or a paradox around here anymore).. but again, leave all common sense at the door and embrace the magic thinking quietly to yourself.. while we point a few complete contradictions.. 

"Going to any length," we might say, in order to go "get," something, is not exactly embracing a "gift," from anybody, especially the "Almighty," ("Creator," of All-That-Is).. but we get so fucking mad we can't think straight about any of it and end up proven a fool because after reason has been totally dismissed by the current authority, it is time to either, "join them," or to go get the gun.

***

WE DO SEE SOME VALUE in giving people what they want; Picasso, we believe, said something to the effect, "I give them what they want," (meaning, at some point, he felt he could have taken a shit on a piece of jagged sheet metal and the crowd would have gone wild, but that's just our interpretation); there's guys doing realism so much better than we could, there's guys doing photo-realism and "impressionism," and "expressionism," and every other "ism," under the sun..  and to think that my little painting of faces is going to be something beyond all that is just foolishness.. I like to fuck around with paints but there is a whole lot more of what happens that I don't like than do.. and why would I put myself through all that?  Jesus, there's religions that preach that the painting of images is "evil," and.. well.. we don't want any part of either doing that or not doing that.. we want no part of any of this shit mostly, all that, "you-should-be-grateful," shit.. I'll tell you what I know, or hold as one of the deepest beliefs I am capable of; for every argument there is a counter-argument just as fucking strong and sensible.. as far as all anybody needs to be doing at any given hour of any day... that's why "man," does very little besides talk and argue.. the world doesn't change, "good," doesn't triumph over "evil," the same cocksuckers pump out the same goddamned shit from some raised up fucking platform, or podium or "altar;" I really don't know what making some great effort to put my shit out there, rubbing someone's nose in what I can do, (because I know someone is going to feel that way about it); some jag off is going to get it in his head, looking at a video, that this dancing girl has something for him and he needs to go blow her brains out so she can go to "Heaven," or something we can't even imagine how fucked up it is.. people want to sit in a fucking A.A. meeting and tell me about "God."  And sure, there might have been a time when I didn't paint seriously because I didn't want to find out I wasn't that good at it, but being good doesn't mean a damn thing to me anymore.. at anything.. if there's some preaching behind it.  I think Pablo Picasso and a whole lot of other people in this world are just plain flabbergasted by what they see and hear.. so all you can do is shrug.  

DETAIL TARA UNDONE
^{oil on canvas}

Where is anybody going to go after Paul Cezanne anyway, or Gauguin, Leonardo.. or you?  Jackass.  Keep talking.

Oh wait, no, Dick, you ain't seeing it right; that's not what I said.. sitting in the goddamned chair right next to you.. tell me what it was like for you, what happened, and what it's like now; don't tell me about some ancient word in some ancient language that means, "a person that can see 'God,'" and some fucking speculative horseshit that you grasp to to comfort your aging, dying asshole.. I know exactly what I am seeing and hearing.. go where that nonsense is lapped up and spit back out and everybody's getting all revved up about it; people here want to not get drunk today.. first of all, no one can tell who the fuck you are, where you been, what you want.. you might not be an alcoholic.. you take ten minutes to tell me all about "God," and still we don't know what your fucking drinking was like, or what made you stop it.. just happy fucking spew.. why don't you go preach to your people who are killing women and children in the name of your fucking "God?"  Oh, right, that's right, that's a different sort of understanding of what your "God," is telling people to do; I guess we are the lucky ones that got you and not them.

Holy fuck me.  You're here to tell me how great "God," is.. how much I need God.. some other aspect of the great and terrible wizard of Oz will do just as much at a fucking A.A. meeting.. like.. do people even realize what room they are sitting in?  Because it doesn't seem that way.  What am I going to say, "thank God for A.A.?"  Who am I to thank?  Bill Wilson?  You try and tell people Bill was asking for whiskey on his deathbed and they say, "ho, I don't believe that!"  So much for his "spiritual awakening," if you ask me, but, on the same token, it's good to know the truth of the thing, to know what to expect, maybe some day laying there dying and wanting a good stiff drink to ease the suffering.. and all my friends gathered around are going to say, "NO, Bill! How would that look?"  You're going to "undo," everything you've done?" (before all your "followers?").. Jesus... but if it happens, at least I won't have to listen to anybody who thinks I'm strange.. or I somehow did A. fucking A. wrong...

SUN DAY
^{Sunday 17 December 2023}

LIFE IS SO MUCH BETTER in person and in its present condition, (state).  We are or have been reluctant to make things for specific friends but buying gifts is worse.  This guy had a birthday about a week or so ago.  And yes we should let the Artwork speak for itself or just give clues though in reality there is no end to interpretation.. not like we are going to wear people out.  

Well, we aren't going to give the whole of the morning's energy to this stupid thing, forgetting TARA...

Painting is such a motherfucker though.  I been looking at this painting of most recent video obsession girl in its various phases of.. whatever.. we were just talking about this yesterday with an actual friend and she understood completely even though she doesn't paint, (and nobody fucking panic now; the "obsessions," are not nearly as severe as they once were and really have dwindled to the point of being fun now); the sheer amount of decisions we have to make in one single day is staggering not only as concerns life as it is lived unconnected to a "significant other," (and what a fucking sad name is that for someone on any scale), but especially about painting.  Well, she said, "I can see that," when I was saying every brush stroke requires thought.. and so much for taste, as there will never be any accounting for it in this place, we know Paul Cezanne was the mother fucking man.. brooding, miserable, motherfucking, Paul Cezanne.  But we ain't him.  We been looking at TARA UNFINISHED for maybe I don't know.. we were looking at TARA all day yesterday while we were doing something else; Saturday, of course, is supposed to be "no work," day, but nothing is ever that simple, just ask the Jews; TARA, worse, is looking straight as us.. they're all looking at us; we got a thing where we are hoping this one feature will separate our portraits from all the rest, this feature of sometimes she's looking at you and sometimes she's not.. seeing that's closer to reality.. so we looked at a couple of pieces by Paul Cezanne and got depressed, then worked like we were one of the "Furies," (I think there's more than one), and all the while glancing over at this newest attempt at THE PORTRAIT, as an Art category, (TARA), and we know deep down all this is going to have some real significance somewhere someday.. like we always kept saying to the girl just before she had enough, "someday."

So we are going to do it now.. after all that "tara-tara-tara-tara-tara-tara-tara" bullshit.. we keep it secret, pretty convinced nothing too much about the "Tara Mooknee," YouTube Channel is going to go over real big in Lockport, New York, (population around 20,00 we would guess), depressed "canal," town.. western part of the state.. "hick," in other words, which is crazy, in my mind, I mean, here we got Tara Mooney, (we're guessing on the spelling), one of the most.. what's the word.. "ethical," people out there, in terms of "balanced," commentary.. (all of it, "social," or "commentary.." any of it can go in quotation marks anymore).. we don't know exactly how she popped up on our YouTube thing, but, she made me regret "breaking up," with my very first girlfriend, and that was really something, in terms of the coward's life, and all "what might have been."  So, yeah, we are going to go work on that before we are spent for the day.

CHRISTMAS PRESENT FOR A FRIEND AS IT STANDS CELLPHONE PHOTO
^{128 x 159 mm. (5 1/16 x 6 1/4 in.) oil paint plaster and liquin on old wood in oak frame}

***

AS MUCH AS WE HATE people talking about dreams, we were very puzzled by one we had this morning, it was the last of the night; we were in it condemned to death for either some "sacrilege," or other, or a "heresy," of some kind, we cannot recall that part, but know we were sentenced to be burned alive and furthermore were required to turn our self in to receive the punishment.  How exactly it was that we were free to roam about we cannot account for, but we did take the opportunity to hide our backpack, or drop it off at home, or some secure place; we think perhaps we had a bottle hidden inside and suspect this was attached to the punishment.  We record the thing because we did turn our self in, or were in the process of doing so when we awoke, we were nearly eager for it in spite of the fear of dying this way, we could not account for leaving the backpack, as we knew we would not be able to come back for it.. we were not leaving the contents for someone else we can say surely.

We don't pay too much attention to dreaming; we figure it is the body's way of taking care of itself and leave it alone.

We might note that we felt rather "proud," of our actions in the dream, in full belief of the supposed "reality," we did not run away or try to get out of it; certainly this is some "grandiosity," on our part, but can only hope it is a deeper measure of "acceptance," of what ever might come our way.

NO NEED
^{Saturday 16 December 2023}

"WE SHALL NOT WANT," someday.. (might as well be today).  We can remember first considering if perhaps the famous "ten commandments," might actually have been spoken more as promises than strict orders; it was a good day.

We were not too long ago wishing we could find something greater than "hope," so, we should report we have begun to feel we have found something so much greater than hope.  

And the last thought of the morning was a reminder that we are not a project like all the others because when we make a project out of our self we soon are quite disappointed and so much like all the others we go "unfinished," or rather abandoned; we give up on things, no matter what they are, eventually.  This has been our sure experience.  But we also need to remember Leonardo never finished anything, or we got it from Waldemar Januszczak, (one of our favorite documentary narrators.. - "PERSPECTIVE" channel), that Leonardo never finished anything except THE LAST SUPPER, which, to our mind, he didn't finish either.. in keeping with his habits, rather, we would guess as much, knowing, in the real reality of things our guess is as good as yours.

Your fucking kids aren't a fucking project either, you mealy-mouthed sad excuse for people.. "I'm not to blame for my son shooting up a school;" it came out of nowhere is even better when we don't want to face any reality.. we just say, "poof," like magic.

Don't scrutinize me!  Why not?

Gabi, (below), is all nice and shit, well.. fuck you; you need a harsh voice too, or rather a "male" (male passion), voice, which is, rage.  Before it's too late, you need to hear your boy screaming at you in silence.  Because if he is not a reflection on you perfectly what the fuck is he?  Remember that?  How embarrassing he is?  We all want "representation," and scream at how pitiful "democracy," really is.. well, there he is!  Right there begging you with big sharp eyes..  but, we suppose Kip Kinkle's fucking sad assed parents are feeling a little want these days.. or hope they are.  Oh wait, they're dead because Kip killed them out of love for them.. such a mind blowing case.

***

AND IF THIS IS THE TIME we "pull the whole thing together," (end with a "positive," spin), fuck you, (not today), please.

We were however wondering if we need "justification," (for the best idea of a child being unequal to the task), recalling the years we spent in a "sexual trance," (if the reader is unfamiliar with the reference, he's lucky; the sex trance is a worse drug than alcohol ever hoped to be someday); it's rather a humiliating thing to recall, to imagine and almost "re-live," any of it, to draw in our mind the thing as it happened, (pick any day), and feel the momentary burn of shame.. we gotta ask, what, about life, needed that measure of escaping from?  Because we certainly had the same shame then.  Shame is not something that materializes out of nothing.. nothing just materializes out of nothing.. well, (we haven't given it much thought, but may, in a little while); maybe that's the best evidence for "God," in that, we try to imagine "nothingness," and that's as far as any of us will ever go with it, meaning, we know it's a thing, but, if it was a thing in a real sense, if the universe didn't exist, ever, and there was no space, if there was absolutely nothing.. we can't take that any further, to think, well, what sparked all this then?  It is easier to imagine that something was here all along.. that there couldn't have been a beginning, and now there can't be an end.. I mean, how is there to be an end of time?  Hearing people say there is going to be an end of time is just about the stupidest thing we have ever had to contend with.  Oh yes, we hear all about he "zone," or the "dimension," beyond time and space, and okay, yeah, hoopty-doo-hooray.. who really can afford to give a fuck right now about any of that?  Maybe someday douchebag.  For now go get something good to eat.

Meaning yeah, fine, I mean, go blow your mind, then come back.. come back to something relevant to time and space.

THE REVERSE CAVE
^{110 x 160 mm. (4 5/16 x 6 5/16 in.) ink and oil paint on homemade canvasboard}

WE REALLY HATE TO RUIN THIS little honey.. these are some of our absolute favorite pieces of Art; we love two-color pieces, but, in reality, they are three-color, or three-element, illustrations, (with varying "greys"), and crazy light, (there is always crazy light to consider because there is always light).  We absolutely absolutely love the "one swoop," thing, when we let the hand go, it's mainly the result of deciding, "fill this space," (as "economically," as possible), and then we stare at it the way we studied the bark of a tree, sitting on a branch, being.

THE NEW VOCABULARY
^{Friday 15 December 2023}

GABRIELLA KOVALENKO
^{screenshot and link to an interview}

NICE TO SEE SOMEBODY DONE SOMETHING right, and for it to be a woman is outstanding.  Hats off, Gentlemen!

That was our best vocabulary, "boy, you finally done something right," back "in the day."  Not that we remember exactly ever hearing it said to us but we know that's what Dad would have said if we had done something right.

But I am the only one that has to listen to me now.  And this is universal.  Nobody really listens to anyone else.

"Imperium," has to be given from below and one can really ask, if "God," is in fact the infant, how much imperium does he really get to enjoy?  I mean, who doesn't dream, at least once, of having the world at his feet?  I don't know of one man.  

Rather we can say, who hasn't wished things were just the slightest different than they are?  But we suffer the wresting away of our natural imperium as boys.  We worship a buffoon.  And when he falls from grace, look out Sugar.  So the only answer we have to listen to now is, "do we stay boys forever today the rest of the day one more minute?"

Natural imperium is such a beautiful beautiful thing.. it is an amazing phenomenon, captivating, and terrible for all of us.

But can somebody please translate what this woman is saying for the rest of us; put it like you would to an eighth grader.

***

PUTTING YESTERDAY IN A BOX FOR NOW AND FOREVER

WE ARE SO FRIGHTFULLY TOO TIRED today to do any more of this today.  We were forty years lost and no one could help us.  This is different than saying, "there was no one to help us;" we had help coming out of our ass and cock both.. flowing like a mighty river and a bologna sandwich from Catholic Charities.. and the rage is still right there.  So we have to listen to our self and we have to make all the decisions all day long and people ain't gonna want to hear this.. but we ain't talking to them anymore.  We wandered forty years in a wilderness and finally, (turning 55), we woke up enough to realize we had no "retirement plan."  We didn't have any spot in any garden we could ask the local cat lady to bury us in.  We know from the outside our "story," is going to look completely different than what is was to us so there is no real point in telling it.  This in and of itself is a monumental task, to step out of the story for a minute.. and attach.. or re-attach.. to the world.  

REHABITATION
^{Tuesday 12 December 2023}

PROBABLY "REHABITATION" GREATLY MEANS PUTTING THINGS IN A HUMANE ZOO NOW, as our search of the word was taken over by a greater force that decided we didn't know what we were after; from experience we know "rehabilitation," at its core, is about establishing new habits, (thought habits and action habits), leading to a different habitat, (hopefully a better one), even if monkeys don't generally do well where we habitually put them.

We wouldn't know if anyone is interested in what we were after.  "Rehabitation," it turns out, is a word.  We know because we pressed the link: "Do you want results only for REHABITATION," and got sent to an Oxford Dictionary thing that demanded we choose a "subscription," option, meaning, "give us some money before we proceed," and that's about as far as we really wanted to take the thing.  

It is an interesting illustration, (above), -the mouse arrow seems to have been resting on the "Criminology," link-box, "the interdisciplinary study of crime and deviant.. (blah blah).. multidisciplinary field in both the behavioral.. (blah blah)... we are always interested in the origins of "deviant behavior," but, so many places to go, informationally speaking.. rehabs in your area with map.. universal health coverage.. recidivism.. aggression.. $0.00.. holy me fuck.. and the only thing we can be sure of is the movie "Crazy In Alabama," made us want to tell Melanie Griffith she shouldn't have fucked with her face.. (if she did, which it looked like to us).. I mean, maybe acting wasn't her thing... (we went back and found out she did admit to having some bad plastic surgery).. another Hollywood formula baby...
-in the end, there is something to something we heard Dave Chappelle say yesterday about the flood of information here in this country making it impossible to focus on any one thing.. 

We know we need to establish new habits our self if we are going to get the fuck out of here to someplace better in a real, material, (if not "spiritual"), way.. just like we know we would have to stop living on potato chips and pop and start eating something more nutritious if we want to expect to not get all physically fucked up quicker than that is slated to happen, but where are all these unpesticided vegetables and nonhormoned meats supposed to come from?   Where is all this great new voice in our head going to pipe in from?

Not every day is going to be a good spew.  We have to act on the principles we have established for ourself especially when we don't feel like it.  It isn't fun.  It isn't quick and easy.  Most of the time it doesn't even feel like we are getting anyplace, but, remember it's like watching a tree grow; there's really not too much we have to "alter," in any one acorn, but, god help where it falls on the ground.

***

PROVIDING ADDITIONAL CONTEXT TO THE THING here, as opposed to writing a greater introduction, if the work should attract or garnish no interest, (if no one should seek beyond our self to fix it up), we feel a few points need to be understood if the piece is going to make any real sense, or be of any benefit to anyone else's life, so we will add this information here.

First of all, much is being made of "mental illness," in the present culture, we our self have been given a half-dozen "diagnoses," and been "treated," for these things over the course of many years, (1983-2014, roughly, but we should qualify these dates at some point as the thing is never as it sounds on the surface; perhaps we will get to those parts of the story in greater detail later on and perhaps we should not); the culmination of this "mental health treatment," can be summed up in our greater rejection of that industry, (on the spectrum of "acceptance/rejection"), in the ratio of about 75-90 to 25-10.. or even greater.  This means we see little benefit against the years spent trying to attain benefit.  But things are never as simple and straightforward as we would like them and people do not have the time to study nuances and details to gain a full understanding of what the author is hoping to convey, (here we expect this to be the case), because the numbers can very well be reversed, and we can say we derived great benefit from our experience, as evidenced by our arrival at a solution, finally, but that this did not happen as it was formulated and induced or implemented in our life by any scheme of either one of us is very possible; our "healing," might very well have come about by the forces of nature herself, (getting completely fed up with us both), and of course, as in every case, the genuineness of the healing is always up for question and opinion; the integrity of the "change," is given to further evidence and substantial "longsuffering," just as the integrity of wisdom is "proven in her children."

We prefer to see the greater part of "mental illness," as a complex nervous system response to inner and outer stimuli as it affects the conditioned nervous system, rather than a "physical illness," in the classical, (western), sense of the words; we believe mental illness is very much a "dysfunction," within the organism, and fits the most generalized definition of illness in the sense that the organism "malfunctions," but we must take into consideration the mental processes that are at work that do not apply to traditional illness; the organism for example functions in a way that insures survival but is wholly unacceptable both to itself and its environment; this is an incredibly interesting course of study in the very least because the very thing we hope to eliminate in the organism is the very thing keeping it alive, (and again, this is nothing but our estimation of the situation and we hope to do better at "building our case," as we go along).

We consider mental illness largely as severe interruptions in growth stages and we proceed accordingly.  We don't expect a whole lot of agreement or support in any practical way from any established institution dedicated to the treatment of "mental illness," mainly because the cost involved in adopting this attitude might entail things way beyond anything anyone has any idea of entertaining; we our self are only forced to adopt it for the benefit of our own survival and we are completely willing to adopt it alone.  What we mean is the "re-parenting," involved, the "re-conditioning," of the individual nervous system that we imagine paramount in any real genuine healing is just not something we expect any industry to throw its hat in; we expect to be laughed out of court because the projected "profit," involved can be speculated as very much like the profit of being a decent parent.. (it ain't gonna be money anybody gets out of it).  And we think further, if any sort of "justice," is served for even a portion of the damage done by the industry, if it should ever be put in a greater need of protecting itself, we might fantasize, (speaking directly to the industry as an individual), you all have your base completely ripped out from under you, like the people you do harm.

Possibly the most difficult or "challenging," thing we have had to force our self to do in all this is approach the mental health industry as we would any other misguided child.  We met so many beautiful beautiful people in the course of our "treatments," we really wished we could have "gotten well," for their sake alone.  As things stand very much, we had to sever all connection, (much like a child must leave home), in order to make any noticeable progress.  And we can say the "progress," has been slight but we like to add, "just enough," to sustain itself, which should be the aim of any "treatment," just as the child should sustain his self after a period of struggling to separate from the parent; he should "thrive," in life, and neither be wholly "devastated," at the natural loss of his parent, (wholly incapacitated), or to the other degree, murderous of them that spawned him and needing to create a fantasized justification on YouTube equal to the horseshit story of him he was taught and conditioned to believe and respond to.

We feel at least 99% certain the "alcoholic," problem has been completely removed from us and this is ample evidence and justification for believing we will experience continued success.  As much as I like to keep things human, we can say it is more likely we will get on a spaceship with Elon Musk and get shot off to the moon than it is we will drink any more alcohol in our lifetime.  We understand well that this sort of statement invites contention but again, we will see; we certainly feel this way in the deepest part of our self and it is a part that has not existed in any conscious or meaningful way prior to this phase of growth; we are thankful for it and feel also, (because we believe that sure beliefs are evidenced by feeling), that it is important to make some attempt to document or record this phase, as in any other journal, but with the sure intention of it becoming a public thing as that fits the greater part of the healing, (that it be "contagious").

SEEKING TO DO GOOD
^{Monday 11 December 2023}

WE WERE THINKING IF WE DO NOTHING else we will give an "accounting," of our self to the one that matters and bring that whole business to its conclusion finally, and we'll do our best to balance the seriousness of the issue with the fucking around about it; there is no benefit in scaring everybody off on the first page of the great work.. the "blessed," children of the world.  The problem is, none of this is doing the simple business of living.. none of this writing and reading is real life.  If anybody thinks about it for a minute he might equate this long long longing for long lost knowledge and alien company with the loss of the oral tradition; we can't even begin to imagine the depth of the thing passed down when we actually had to do it face to face.

We were thinking if man does nothing else, socially, he more or less creates each other in our own image, this business of "projecting," our own "evils," onto other people, our own "good," our own everything.. and where in all of this is our collective "God?"  As the world's three major fuck-fuckers contend there is only one "God."  Let's leave that aside for a minute and stop laughing at Rodney King for asking the world, "can't we all just get along?"  I mean, he's not going to make it to congress but, it's a nice sentiment to carry with you walking down the street.. people like Rodney wouldn't even try to join any congress, maybe not because he is too stupid to try to and not because he is too smart.. we don't know why anything in this stupid stupid place.

Ah, you're just like me you're just like me you're just like me.. the difference is far less in the being than in the doing.  Meaning we really don't know why Rodney got the fuck beat out of him on national television, we don't know why people regard him as an idiot, we don't know why we are here at all except that we are pretty well convinced by our own bullshit that we are not here to tell other people why they are here if we don't know, and we don't.  Maybe if some "parents," (out there), gave us a few hundred bligipidits in exchange for teaching their little Johnny everything we know about oil painting we would have the authority to tell Johnny why he is in our living room, but beyond that we are just making shit up.. people forget it was the parent's responsibility to apprentice their kids to somebody, some "master," that knew what he was doing and therefore all "authority," over that child was given by the parent, (not some New York State Certificate of "I'm-not-a-child-fucker-until-I-get-caught" sort of mentality).  I'll tell you, "authority," over some paint brushes takes a whole lot of practice and experience, but this "why-you're-here," thing, you just got to be a good parrot, (not parent). 

FOLLOWING LAO TZU TO HIS LOGICAL CONCLUSION we would be forced to imagine that seeking to do good and then doing it would bring seeking to do evil, (and then doing it), into existence.. we don't want the back end of the thing, collectively, we don't think, (and yes we know that is a double-negative, but such is common English now, nearly a way of lying without having to actually lie or to give the impression rather that we are saying the exact opposite of what we are saying); opposites are pretty important to the existence of the earth.. so.. where do we go from there?  We know "complimentary colors," are the main source of great oil painting, "contrast," and the like.. so.. in that respect we embrace the whole shit, like love and marriage, we can't have one without the.. but leave marriage out if you can.. 

And we're not going to argue with anybody whether or not Lao Tzu was out of his mind and we're not going to vilify China, or anyplace else, until we go there and see for our self that she is a villain.  I mean, if you don't want to be a dancing monkey you'll probably like it even less if you have to take a big monkey cock in your mouth.  We can only speculate.  

Basically, we our self, don't like spitting somebody else's gism...

^{GISM is an acronym that has many different variations, including "Guerrilla Incendiary Sabotage Mutineer", "God In the Schizoid Mind", "Grand Imperialism Social Murder", "Genocide Infanticide Suicide Menticide", "Gay Individual Social Mean", "Gothic Incest Sex Machine", "Gore Impromptu Suicide Mine", "Grim Iconic Sadistic Mantra" and "Gnostic Idiosyncrasy Sonic Militant"1. However, it is important to note that some of these variations may be inappropriate or offensive. One variation of GISM is a slang term for semen2.}

^{-We might tell the reader that we left the links in, (above), -there's really only two but they are both secured sites, we get so much fucking bullshit around here anymore it's incredible the kids still feel comfortable pasting videos to each other on this thing, (as socializing goes), but we have and had no intention of opening up this amount of tangents.  We don't really care where he goes from here.}

...onto the rest of us; pick up the "mic," and "spit," some "good," shit yay... please sir, can I have more monkey gism...

And we realize people think we are angry and we are; we find anger very useful.  Unfortunately it is the same "creative energy," thing that is responsible for a bunch of shit too, (if there really is one "god"), it's the same set of nerves that light up either happy or sad.. but most kids don't get to go on to "higher education," enough to learn that.. they just get to marvel at why would people sometimes laugh until they cry.. and they have to rely on the people who did go on to higher education not to fuck them in their crib.. we don't want to be that guy, so...

***

WE WILL DO WHAT THE KIDS ARE DOING now and publish a couple links to some other thing, and then have a "conversation," on video, about it.. except we are not going to do any of that. We watched a piece, (of talk), that was produced by Doug Stanhope: ("Beer Hall Putsch"), on YouTube and.. wow; sometimes the only response that is appropriate to a thing is "wow," and that's good enough for us because gathering around the watercooler to discuss everything Doug said yesterday.. that's probably how bibles get written. There's another ten-hour thing we had playing on the machine all last night while we were sleeping.. we'll put that up a screenshot..

"Groundbreaking?"  I mean, what can you say?  After that?  "Come back?"  I don't think so.

Except that the Dave-Koresh-looking guy is the only one clean shaven anymore.. if we were asked for our commentary we would say that; ironically, though, Dave was sporting the no-shave-in-a-couple-days look before it became such a fucking fad..  we looked at this talk until we fell asleep, (about ten minutes), because we are very interested in anything any "scholar," has to say about the thing he studied all his life.  These guys?  Well, we don't know because we were not conscious when they were talking; probably some of their material made it into our dream thing, but not without a whore of some kind, we don't try anymore to remember our dreams or tell anybody what we can remember, if we did, because we can't stand putting our self through listening to someone talk about a dream; there's always the cynic inside that wants to say, "I think you are full of shit," whenever their dream has a "message," or worse, a "moral."  I mean, for real?  That's how your dreams happen?  I don't think so.  

I mean, if the kids of today wanted to sit down and watch either of these programs with me side-by-side and discuss the content, that would be one thing, but all this expense of producing videos.. I mean, we heard a lady say yesterday that "tik tok," (we don't know the spelling apparently), is all about giving positive whatever and somebody else say tik tok is a bunch of shit.  We don't know why this is either.. we can make something up or we can spew something somebody else said about it that seems to be the case, but we don't know why these are our only two options.

We can report, however, with some sense of integrity that Doug Stanhope got us to laugh out loud a couple times.. pretty raunchy stuff though, (be "warned").  The red line at under the thing, (above), is an indication we only sleep about four hours at a time anymore, and we try to listen to our body, and it said we couldn't take any listening to this thing when we were awake.  

^{We could end by adding a "moral," to this last bit of talk, for the morning; we, our self, and again, we don't care what anybody else does or tries to do with his self, we still try to follow some of what Jesus said would be a good idea, (shoot for a maturity or a "self-mastery," in your lifetime as gracefully as possible), but we did a long hard search trying to figure out what Jesus actually said, what he meant when he said it, and what all is too far out to even consider.. but what we cannot do is sit in any group and have our life laid out for us.. like when we were little and trusted our parents.. just about every cultural institution ever known to man has proven itself pretty incompetent pretty quickly and every cultural "truth," has more or less evaporated in our lifetime.. and long long long before any fucking sun ever thought about exploding itself out of the sky.  
I'm making an accounting to the only one that matters every day, until it's done.. that's why I am here.}

YES WE HAVE NO VILLAGE OPRAH
^{Sunday 10 December 2023}

(OR WHOEVER WROTE THE BOOK, thanks, but...)

Who were we watching yesterday.. (over-social-commentary be damned).. somebody explaining to us how Shan'ann Watts was a narcissist.  We think she re-named her self or her "channel," something like MYSTIQUE MYSTIQUE, but we really don't want to put anybody out there, (it was something just as silly); maybe anybody that renames their self is in trouble, (like Shan'ann, ironically).  We thought about doing that our self many many times along the way here and just never went through with it; and god brought all the animals before Adam and whatsoever Adam named them.. we just always have to remember Adam was something of a moron.  

There is so much commentary on the Chris Watts case out there, probably more than the bible, and we can't get to it all, or as my Grandfather used to say, "sheeee-he-he-he-shush," (the "he-he-he" part we added, and the "shush," part too, at the end; Grampa used to say "Sheesh," actually, instead of "Jesus Fucking Christ").  We were forced to look into the whole "Chris-Watts-and-what-is-he-?" thing by of a video addiction.  But so far nobody has suggested "autoerotic asphyxiation," as the actual murder weapon Chris used, at least on Shan'ann; the girls did "wake up," and if you listen close you get the impression Chris had put them out in their beds, at least to the point of pooping in the sheets, and was pissed they woke up and probably felt even more pissed he didn't have time to go through that again and would have to figure something out on the way.  Probably embarrassed to admit he was fucking the shit out of her when it "happened."

And these brilliant police from three agencies can't find "closure," so they go give Chris the old "Chris-is-different," schpeel, thinking maybe that tactic will work.. and only got a thicker layer of horseshit swathed over the existing one.  It's the after-story that interests us the most.  Like we all didn't get what we were hoping and got to now make shit up on the way.  I am going to publish a copy of a text conversation I had recently, kind of a poor-man's-fan-stalking incident, but again, we hate to put anybody out there.  The point being just another illustration of people saying shit for no reason other than wanting a particular thing out of it and then having to deal with disappointment because this is what we believe is at the heart of the matter, (something I published then removed on 18 November).  The poor police are still talking about this thing, to the guy who did it, as something that "happened," to him.

We suppose we are more inclined to think of "narcissism," as a teenage phase people refuse to even try to grow out of, or don't believe they can or will grow out of.. ("nervous system conditioning").. so our whole push toward self-mastery is mainly about overcoming or re-conditioning our own nervous system, or being the "parent," and the "child," at the same time, being the "ideal," parent, (or the "father," in "heaven," even).. all this talk of people being "gods," or "Gods," (even).. of the possibility infants experience the "God," existence for a minute, and then immediately whale and cry.. that going through a "tunnel," and "toward-the-light," (of the delivery room), thing.. being born again the second you die...
you fucking figure it out.

SATURDAY
^{Saturday 9 December 2023}

^{..SATURDAY, SATURDAY, SATURDAY.. SATURDAY, SATURDAY, SATURDAY.. SATURDAY, SATURDAY, SATURDAY NIGHT'S ALRIGHT..
                                                                                                                                                 - Sir Elton John}

DO WE REALLY NEED another social commentary?  I don't think so.  

We have set aside Saturdays for resting, so.. there is that; we should try and keep in mind we are trying to rest but we expect it to be a difficult and painful thing.  And to think about "God."  Or gather with the "church," (whatever that might be), and celebrate; but don't sneak off with the sister-in-law.

Words are just far out anymore, so far out, we can't have a thought now without ushering in all sorts of unexpected insights.. and we know how that sounds, but for example the term, "sister-in-law," has a whole new meaning but everybody would have had to have been following along all along to see it; given every definition of "sister," every definition of "in," and every definition, (and implication), of "law," it's a wonder we are not absolutely insane.

So we will leave that alone and say "thank god we were alcoholic when we turned eighteen," (that will sound less crazy).

And we hate to drag the innocent into the public hanging.. but we almost got married ten or so years ago just before committing our self to "celibacy," (celibacy with qualifications of course).  And I should confess to always hating having to hear anyone speak in an "English accent," up to that point.  I can't say it's my favorite sound now but it's a lot like being given a plate of liver when you're starving.  The reference coming from being served a slab of greenish-blueish calf's liver in prison every other Monday evening, and I mean a sort of shimmering, iridescent piece of.. organ.. and being starving.  

Eventually you look forward to it.

It is a very good chapter in the story of things; the girl was the one that suggested "God," made us "an alcoholic," because we were so "proud."  And the reader is invited to imagine the following spoken in a thick Jamaican accent if he wishes because that's how we heard it.

... HO! (the English do not pronounce the "H").. O! You are so proud.. so full of pride.. you needed to be 'umbled ...

It was obvious, God loved me so much that forty years of pure "calamity," horror and hell, was the only option; no lesser gift would have been good enough.  And we know it is difficult to wrap your head around; we are still a "bachelor," (monkey), but the thing is, fresh out of adolescence we were well on our way to becoming another David Koresh.  People are probably unaware of the fact that Dave went through a little-known life-changing program in his early years called "TEEN CHALLENGE."  It is a "Christian," program, (referred to as a "ministry"), that addresses any and all "life altering -in a bad way- issues," (homosexuality was a big there).  We were first introduced our self to Teen Challenge in 1983, and that is a very involved story and the only thing worth mentioning is that we remember one kid had lost all of the fingers on one hand except for the index finger, but that didn't stop him from banging a tambourine like his life depended on it, every morning during "Worship;" he was so enthusiastic with that thing, at about 5:30am, (and if you have any experience with pop-christian music you will know even God hates it.. or should), and I knew eventually I was going to grab that tambourine out of his flipper and use it to beat the fuck out of him, so I left, and went back 25 years later.. (we went back because we were completely taken by a Jamaican girl and she invited us to church one day).  

It was all very "innocent," as we said.  And on everybody's part.  That's the thing, looking back, you can't help beginning to see that everybody has been innocent all along; nobody does shit because they believe it is wrong to do, (they just know somebody else thinks it's wrong, and we can't afford to debate this issue right now either, about "progress," and "invention," and "progress;" we gotta get through this fucking story).

Absolutely we would have been another David Koresh and much worse, as the Christian Promise goes, "much greater wonders will ye do;" there is very little doubt we would have outdone David Koresh.  And we know here as elsewhere we have to ask the reader to just accept what we say, "take our word for it," which probably isn't going to happen anymore, or might, and we don't know which would be worse, (if we are trying to avoid some real negative fuck-fuck we need to consider all possibilities in saying something).  But we insist on telling the real story, as was the impetus of the whole thing all along.  The desire to write a Love Letter to the World, unfiltered and unedited, basically, opening up our "journal," (like the Diary of a Fourteen-Year-Old Girl), because so much is made of this "creative process," we keep hearing about, everybody wants to know how to do it.  We had heard how "creative," we are so often it really went to our head, you could say, or somebody can say, we really felt we had something to offer, which most kids do unless you beat it out of them, that "other-worldly," sense we are a "star," or destined to be huge.

So it was a rumor at Teen Challenge that David Koresh went through the program, we heard it at least ten times in the dorm and decided to take it to a higher authority.. we went up the line, and sure enough, (we were hoping for embarrassment of course); "yes," the man told us, "Dave did in fact go though Teen Challenge."  So that was that.

"But he didn't graduate."

***

It was to be an "ALOHA," to the world.. (and suicide note).. an "hello," and "goodbye," figuring, anybody that goes about exposing his most personal expressions as they are being expressed might as well be writing a suicide note, because he is an idiot.  It led to a lot of study on the subject of the "public," and the "private," self, (and SELF can absolutely be contained within quotation marks if nothing else); and we had to do a lot of study into the "bi-polar," thing and the "Yin and Yang," thing, and the water and fire thing.. prior to writing anything.

Beneath it all is the ever-burning question, "are you a real artist?" (because, if you're not, basically, shut up and go away).

No. 10 - OR SOMETHING
^{158 x 191 mm. (6 3/16 x 7 1/2 in.) ink watercolor gouache liquin (all rights reserved) on canvasboard}

MAYBE NOT THE TIME TO GIVE the world a piece of original Art, (unfinished), but we like this piece quite a lot; we are not certain it is unfinished and our "training," in the business tells us immediately of the problems with this composition, but we like it nevertheless.  Is it the "feeling?"  And in spite of the hating all "shout-outs," of any kind, I mean, who really listens to them or cares, or is given a good feeling by a shout-out, unless you're that guy; we will mention our Design Teacher, (Jon Fox), -spelling uncertain.  The guys that loved me back then would make considerable excuses for my failings, as is the case in all the world.  Jon might say, "I think this works."  But you never know.

We like it most because it was done toward the kid's way of drawing and painting, with little emphasis on quality.. which is not true; kids are the most passionate creatures on the planet.  Then comes the "critique," portion of the thing.  Still.  We like the infinite possibilities...

WE HOPE TO ILLUSTRATE IN THE END that everybody longs to tell the truth more than anything in the world, to be spontaneous.. and live again; this, we believe, is all that Jesus was really trying to say, (or one of the main things), to be "born again," but can we really remember back when lying didn't even occur to us?  We get so steeped in our own pretense... now... if telling the truth just wasn't so goddamned painful.....

*

BASIC BUT we believe the "vilification," of pain and illness, (as "evil"), is just stupid, born out of an inability to say goodbye when we don't want to.. because, duh, it's painful.  We hate all lecturing on "morality," but people seem less able to pick things up in context anymore, like, unless we are hearing some totally horseshit proposition in more morality in Washington, nothing will ever be normal again.  Like it's gonna happen.  We just want to note that our personal "maturity," (out of "adolescent-narcissism"), began the day we decided to take a little more pain, in everything, and say "goodbye," as gracefully as possible.  Pain, illness, and "death," are all good things, sad, hard, and unwanted most of the time, difficult for all involved, but what good thing is not hard, if not just in having to say "goodbye," to it?  I am thinking it really IS better to have "loved and lost," (than never to have loved), for real.

Fear and mistakes are our best friends and the world is bent on turning us against our best friends; these few reminders get me through the day and much more importantly the night.   

ANOTHER INTRODUCTION
^{Friday 8 December 2023}

WE CANNOT EXPECT A FOLLOWING at this point and it is probably a good idea to never consider the "following," (noun), as the main point of going somewhere, (the main reason to go somewhere), but to always consider the "following," (verb), as the natural consequence of going somewhere.  There are the institutionalized paths, (culture), which do not demand too much more than following the directions and going where we are led, but, for whatever reason, many many people are unable to do this.  There are all sorts of explanations as to why some people are not content to follow directions, and the reader is invited to go find whatever explanation best suits his understanding of things.  "Leading," and "following," is something nobody on this planet will successfully avoid.

That said, we set out every day with the same purpose of pursuing "self-mastery," but we realize there is no starting point. We pick up somewhere in the middle of the whole thing, ("life"), we have some notion of a "beginning," and an "end," (of us), but here in the middle we are more or less flooded with every story under the sun, (whatever stories manage to reach our ears), about these beginnings and ends, all needing to be placed somewhere on the spectrum of "truth-to-lie," (fact and fiction), there are stories about "belief," and "faith," and false-truth, and mistakes, and every story every clown can ever dream up in his head and go out and tell us; we struggle, (my self and the ghosts anyway), to find a reliable source of truth, more or less by our self, (we might not "advise," this, we simply say we cannot avoid it), because "at the end of the day," there remains only stories about the stories. 

We are not "alone," in the struggle to form an "identity," but we are absolutely alone in being "that," fucking "guy."  We can have and enjoy or be tortured by every sort of feeling and judgement concerning "who," that guy, "is;" we can study and bend and fuck and delude it all up, (or down), really believing it somehow matters to this larger "universe," (or at least the rest of the world), exactly "who," we "are," so.. this business of "identity," along with the story of our "beginning," and "end," will not be successfully avoided in this lifetime; the sad part being, we don't know anymore which is more important; is it all that we believe about our self or all that is believed about us?  Nobody seems to know where the boundaries are or if there are boundaries at all, mainly because all we have to go on is stories.

"Legacy," then... in the end, (well, when YOU are gone finally for real), all there is going to be is the story of you, or not...

***

WE CAN SAY with some measure of "conviction," that we believe man, (as a "species," of "creature," roaming the earth), will one day go extinct.  We find a great comfort in this notion, or "projection," as it soothes our sense of impending "Hellfire."  We like the idea that every "record," of our humiliating experience on the earth will one day.. well.. there won't be anyone of any significance to us reading it.. rather, our story will loose it's power to come back on us.  The threat of "hell-to-pay," will be for all time removed from our head.. 

Certainly we have had to suffer a good deal of painful meditation on the subject, (here we can say we tried pleasurable meditation and found it somehow even more painful); it wasn't a "change," in cultural-truth that we were very comfortable in implementing but we feel pretty confident we have successfully incorporated this belief into our daily things, and most especially our immediate-moment of experience.  Right now we are comfortable in this expression, but again, the natural consequence of any expression is imminent and unpredictable.

We like to think "natural expression," is a good thing; but, alas, this hasn't been a large part of our overall experience.

It is increasingly common however to hear someone say of our expressions that they "identify," with it, (the content, sentiment, etc.), and we are not always comfortable with this; I mean, if you're crazy.. (fill in the blank).  

So, as part of this new introduction we think the origins of "identity," are important to think about for a minute.  People, for example, might feel a bit of a twinge of some inexplicable discomfort every time they are directed to present an "identification card," for any reason.. later, if this "hate," (because we say all the time, "I hate having to show an I.D."), is studied and dissected and presented back to us as something "unhappy," like "rebellion," or any other branch of some everyday regular old "evil," in society, we can begin to question our "makeup," (as an organism); we might question whether or not we are somehow suffering some unseen fungus, or a worse disease, or maybe we might even go down the truth-path of "destiny," to the conclusion we are simply "damned," if we can't somehow nip this little creepy sensation in the bud.  

So what is this "revulsion," around showing an I.D. card?  And what is all this business lately about "sovereign citizenship?"

I mean, it sounds like a great thing!  You can go on YouTube and see how popular it is, people getting their shit handed to them as nobody in any authoritative position gives a flying fuck about what they believe about themselves; these poor frontline soldiers insist, more or less, "no!" (I don't need to show you a fucking drivers' license), and are quickly informed physically that they absolutely do.  And yes, these stories are all further convoluted by the larger "judicial," habituation at large; we are conditioned to believe "judication," equals "justice," and that this is a good thing.  Okay, we can't exactly go into that right now but we got a good example; a girl we lived with briefly explained to us that a "lie," was not a "lie," until it was proven to be one; she basically contended that this was the basis upon which the thing was the thing.. (provability), so we moved out.

And we might suggest there is some reason for our distaste of showing an I.D. because we have something to hide, possibly not immediately important to the traffic stop, but recalling that time the pants came off when they should not have.. and on purpose.  We were taught there is a "record," of every secret thing in fact but we realize that there is a seemingly ever increasing amount of people who are not conditioned by this belief, which is not making the shrinking population of people who "identify," with this belief at all comfortable.  This is probably the way Empires die.

Our quick answer to this whole situation is to say, well, nobody in my family has ever had to ask me for identification.

We would suggest the reader think about this fact, this truth, this habituation, scenario, or whatever he wants to call it, and take it to the larger community, where, in a smaller village even, for the most part nobody has to ask you to see your fucking drivers' license.  On further to the only use of "identity," is as it concerns "others;" they either want or have to know your identity or they do, (or did), not... but we like to take things one step further and connect it to the larger "consciousness of identity," thing.  We can apply this to the "chicken-or-the-egg," thing and ask, "which came first, the 'self,' or the consciousness of the self?"  We might go on to figure out the "how," and "why," of all that in the future and we may not.. we like the connection to the "origins," of consciousness and the current studies as they apply to the possibility of consciousness existing, or having its origins "outside," the individual brain; we put the word "outside," in quotation marks as we are not entirely sure if anything exists outside the brain, but we will leave that alone.  We are satisfied to leave the issue alone on the basis that consciousness as it applies to the "self," is so absolutely dependent upon consciousness outside of it that the two are inseparable, in the way a monkey, separated from its mother will, in pretty short order, die, but to limit this fact to "biology," alone is either going to be a great asset or a great mistake, and, as usually happens on the earth, (as things tend to run in threes), we will one day find out it is both.

***

WE DO LOVE TO SPECULATE here at KLANGORSKRAWLER, (we like to think the davenport-convertible-bed we are designing and building will both function well and be very beautiful to look at and to sit and lie down on), so we are currently undergoing in our brain the tedious and often noxious meditations concerning the possibility that all notions of "spirituality," on the earth are purely "biological," in form, function, beauty, and every other kind of way; we like to think the invisible chemical reactions we suffer individually and collectively in our variously present collection of "independent-nervous-systems," are responsible for everything that passes, now, then, forever, and before, simply because it is comforting to think there is not some separate "being," alive and more powerful, in the "master's" seat; we like to think that proper care of our little spine and brain, and all its branches, will one day prove to be a useful thing to have given some attention to.  And what is "self care," then?  Who exactly is to determine this?

We like the story of Remus and Ramusallplease, sucking the "teats," of the "wolf," and then, ah.. we don't know the story.

We take the story to its logical conclusion that the twins found their "identity," in the eyes of their mother, and we connect it to the other story of "don't listen when they tell you that the 'kingdom of god' is over here or out there; the kingdom of god is 'in your midst;'" outward we take it to "cast your bread upon the waters and one day it will return to you, tenfold," and to this new insistence that we absolutely "manifest," our reality...

On and on and on.. but always there are two people involved.. it seems so "elementary," that I am ridiculous.

We did want to say before we leave off for the day that if we got a largescale "social," problem that has some possibility of solving, it probably has something to do with our refusal, (either collectively or individually), to say "goodbye," gracefully; if you want to know the worst part of the "abusive narcissist," in your living room, it's his inability to leave you be, to go about your day.. maybe he has no day of his own.. but we are trying to stay centered on "saying farewell," in its actual meaning.  But we are just saying this so we don't forget.  The furthest East people have been saying this forever.

We like the "poetry," of "Paul the 'Apostle,'" very much as an end of Christianity as we know it hopefully someday; if somebody puts a proper interpretation on what that guy said we might get someplace better someday, but that's just a personal "love," of ours.  Here, we cite his nice analogy of tree-branch "grafting," in that a branch that is producing one kind of fruit can be connected to another and go on to produce more fruit.  This because we find much solution in re-habitation, (as distinguished from "rehabilitation"); we, our self, wanted the greater part of our "root," removed, if not the whole big ball.. and to be connected to some other "network," of "tentacles," (as mirrors the branches of all the poor bastards "following" along); we more or less hoped to be severed from our "family of origin," and fit into a healthier one.. and all this business of "doctoring," as a means of healing the sick, of intervening with the departure of a loved one, or not going quietly into that goodnight... we like the idea that us, as a seed, is flung willy nilly onto rocks and sewage and into suffocating ghettos and good ground... by whose HAND?

AH TO BEGIN AGAIN
^{Thursday 7 December 2023}

ALRIGHT I AM - GOING TO GIVE IN A NUTSHELL MY VERSION OF ALL LIFE AND HEALTH, (the ghosts and I will), like, why is everybody so worried about Donald Trump if we got vanity?  Meaning, when "altruism," fails, there's always vanity to save us.  The devil has a job that serves a good purpose, we'd say; vanity is at the heart of your neighbor blowing his leaves over into your yard, yes, but on the downside of altruism there is you.. you might not want to forget that part.  Nobody is saying, "hey, turn that smile upside down," but, think of how silly that is.

No, I don't expect anybody to listen.  What am I trying to make my day worse than it is already going to be?  

And can we really dispense with the needing magic power around here?  That's what we really want to ask for.  I mean, can you imagine?  After how shitty we treat everything else?  Except for what's ours.  Because, obviously, the magic power ain't going to be ours.  That's pretty well established, and if by chance it somehow would, there would be somebody right there to have to use it on because they want to take it away from us.  It's going to turn out in a real way that the only thing magic power has the power to do is bug us the fuck out.

And what's with this, "Greek," shit was such great shit back when Plato was running shit?  Meaning, if "democracy," was such a great thing, well, what the fuck?  We pulled that part along.  Yeah, we went back and got that and dragged it into everybody's fucking every-day vocabulary.. what about the rest of it?

All this disparagement about living small; living small kept us from getting a scratch in prison, (we will tell you that, brother); prison is not the place to have something somebody wants to take away from you.  Why bash it?  I mean, if "sacrifice," is so great, try it.  I'm not going to try it; you try it.  I'm not going to try it.. hey, let's get Mikey.. he won't eat it; he hates everything.  

Jesus liked sacrifice, but, fuck that.  He had magic powers.  He didn't have to like anything.  

We've decided to give up on trying to talk sense into people, I mean, talk about giving somebody something to hate you for.. we thought we'd try living in the moment.. okay enough of that.. talking sense is stupid because it is all about something that just happened, like the news.   Dumber than fuck.  And this gives us the real impression we're getting somewhere.. with Tara.

TARA (DEDICATION)
^{Wednesday 6 December 2023}

DAY THREE OF THE GODDAMNED THING we are going to give to our favorite girl in the world right now and publish a link to a piece of work she produced, a video appearing on YouTube, and include a copy of our favorite screenshot of the artist.

TARA CONTEMPLATING HER LIFE
^screenshot

It was a good and necessary life lesson, (watching this video), as we might have felt very much, (at her age), that marriage as an institution was some "evil conspiracy," cooked up in the Catholic Church, (the evidence of which is well hidden and guarded in the Vatican Library); we might have dreamed of "storming the vault," at that point, and gone on to make most of our major life decisions in that attitude.  Tara has softened us considerably and we want to acknowledge all persons or parties who contribute or have contributed greatly to the real beauty in our life.

Don't be a dancing monkey.

GOOD GRIEF
^{Monday 4 December2023}

IT IS A RECURRING THING, (theme), and "palette," our loss... and we can't afford to give one more apology.  The only benefit from an institutionalized lifetime is having had to spend so much time in "paid-friendship," (otherwise known as "talk therapy").  Friendship is largely the consequence of having to sit down and talk with somebody.. Enemyship would be the consequence of going and talking to someone else about the encounter, in preference of having another one.

All that aside, we are now in the midst of "grieving," or "releasing 'frozen' grief," or doing some other incomprehensible thing somebody suggested.. someone in "authority?"  Who knows(?).  All this business of going back and telling our story, it's seems like such a natural and universally irresistible thing to do, it must have served some good purpose somewhere along the lines.. but.. again, who knows?  

There's a whole lot of business about being the "author," or "creator," of some new "me," and this too must enjoy some validity somewhere.. not usually here.. it's good to have come to the understanding that my mother got sucked into the "mental health industry," as raw material, and more or less exploited and used up.. lucky for her she is now "worm food;" if we seem at all partial to worms, we can only say we are trying to outgrow or get off the superiority/inferiority drug.

Special thanks to my ass and balls.. well, we do owe thanks of course.. if there's any way to wreck real gratitude we'll find it.. and wreck it for somebody else.  I had a casual observer observe my feeling I "owed the world," and that's what he said of me, but not to me, while I was in the backseat of the same car, he said that to the driver, "holy fuck, this guy feels like he owes the whole world."  I don't know if it was a compliment or a sad commentary on the state of his company, and he didn't seem to know either; he didn't say it with malice, just rather casually, and the driver did not respond, so the conversation was not taken up.. we can suppose he had no agenda as it might concern getting more out of me than that.

"Guilt trips," are nothing new, misnamed, of course, as most everything else is; it would probably be more accurate to call these states of feeling "shame trips," to nowhere good; guilt is like taking a walk through a rough part of town and deciding never to go back or take that way again, and shame is getting the fuck kicked out of you just because you are there and being too injured by the beating to get you self home afterward.

Shame doesn't help grief out at all!

Anyway, we thank the people in the mental health industry who have genuinely bought into the narrative; anybody who shares a true belief, no matter what that is, is an asset in this world.. as we continue our search for true friendship; we put friendship as the highest priority and greatest achievement in life, because being a friend is many times the most difficult thing in the world to do, and why be a pussy anymore?  If "Alcoholics Anonymous," works it's because it is an avenue where friendship can develop.. all the dogma and preaching of it, the re-authoring of our selves.. (the mind of an alcoholic is a mine field for sure but the principle is unchanged; what is life without a friend?).

Here's a truth about us, (as we begin the thing again), this is our first experience outside of an institution, and the tentacles are still very much attached, the access to resources, ("money"), are still such that we can not enjoy the sense of "independence," or "individualism," that we dream of but we've made significant strides toward that horizon.. we have established a good measure of "authority," in our own things.. we've established a "goal," or "ambition," we truly believe in, and from which we "get fed;" it's something of a "passion," and something of a "miracle," and something of "hard work," and a "life's work," and something of all we can not and will never see.  It is our 64th year on the earth.  

Don't be a dancing monkey.

THE LOVE LETTER
^{Sunday 3 December 2023}

TODAY AS EVERY DAY WE MUST greet the world, ("salutation," optional).

"HERE AM I," might be the first words spoken by any man; we don't know, we only have the bible to go on, and worse, as this book is imprinted in our memory bank; we are certainly not going to go back and re-read that goddamned thing, plus a lot of other books and commentaries and things, microfilms and oh holy christ.. (our "personal" connection to whatever in our own little "closet").. it's a wonder anything gets done.

We have decided to adopt the most popular format of written communication in the present day, (the "blog"), in the crafting of our contribution to things, setting aside personal feelings that threaten to prevent our doing so, we press on in that thing we have decided to be the most important pursuit, or practice going about it, and we can add, "choosing love," without regard to how this stipulation might be received; we do not want our love letter to be all formal and shit.  

We started today thinking of "GOD," as a verb and not a noun.  We can remember very distinctly and absolutely one day asking our mother, "what is 'God?'"  We can say too that she didn't bat an eye, but stated very simply, "God' is 'Love.'" (we capitalize the word "love," here but we are uncertain if she would have thought it necessary; we suspect she would, knowing her self the misuse of the word in common English).

We thought a long time before speaking a word and even then, more or less, just went on repeating the question in various forms of growing confusion; at the age of nine or ten we had absolutely no real conscious concept of "love," as it becomes a concept separate from experience; we think ourselves lucky to have been in that moment so deeply and unconsciously aware of being connected to her perfect intimate love.

And yeah yeah yeah blah blah blah ... nobody knows what they got 'til it's gone ... so have a nice day.

DETAIL MOTHER AND CHILD PENCIL ROUGH
^{from a newspaper clipping (circa 1956)}

APPENDIX

^{WE HAVE MANY TIMES CONSIDERED the value of a Steven King against the value of a François-Marie Arouet, (a "VOLTAIRE"), to the world.. it was an exercise in trying to determine what sort of contribution we might make to the body of literature existing and ever growing around here.. the sheer bulk of material a kid needs to read if he has any hope of getting his head around life.. it's all quite staggering..}

^{It is probably unnecessary to point out the differences in these two men or their respective purposes in writing things down.. the only purposes that matter at all in this life, in our opinion, worth discovering, are not those belonging to any other man or any "God;" the only good thing that comes out of searching purposes at all is finding the ones that belong to us.. and then deciding what to do about them.}

^{The most ironic part of all of this is the fact that stating our purposes really does not matter unless we are mistaken by or about them.. it doesn't matter at all what another man thinks my intentions are, and there might be some argument surrounding the possibility of his being mistaken by or about them and how much that really matters, a great argument in fact,* but settling that question is not why we write.}

^{We are writing here because there is only one story we wish to tell and it is a "true," story, and here we might go into the difference between a Voltaire and a King, in terms of the value in pursuing a life that involves the creation of more literature.. inflicting more fiction on the young.. but I don't have to make up fictional characters and invent an interesting plot, hoping to keep people reading along, hoping I can take them to my truth; writing is a very simple thing now mostly because I don't give too much of a shit if anyone is reading me or not.. following, understanding, agreeing, or "believing," the truth doesn't even need me to exist, much less be its spokesperson.}

^{But there is a problem and it is same problem that remains for any author who wishes to expose any truth in any time.. at least if these truths he want known involve other people that are not dead yet, there is most certainly, or at least very very likely to be, one or more people who do not wish that particular truth to be known.. or very simply put, everybody knows that nobody likes a rat.}

_{* since "politics," largely, these days, has disintegrated into guessing, speculating, fabricating, (lying about), the intentions of others, (the "enemy"), we can only say again that our own intention is usually the one that fools us; if we wish to know the intention of others we should go ask them, and not the "George Bushes," of the world to tell us..}  

^{Our greatest and most sincere thanks, (to the summit of our capacity to feel "gratitude"), we would extend to people, the many we do not and will never meet in person, to those that love all of those that cannot love in the same way, (in a "real," way, that is, seeing to provisions, and care, for those not able to do the same); it would be the greatest thing to return the great good they have done me, giving me this summer as is passing, (now).. 2023; it is to them I devote this work.  It is, as stated, a "self-portrait," (in the cloud), and as it is a great truth of all Art, a saying we don't hear very much anymore, we will say it here, hoping it sinks deep, to the deepest depth, and be understood for its power and simplicity, we say un-mockingly that all beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and we hope of course that beauty is found here.}

^{Unfortunately, there is never any accounting for taste... (and here we would inject a smiley-face or a "lol," or "hahaha!"  -we are well accustomed to nobody knowing when we are joking).  We consider this a piece of Art above all else and intend to be working on it for the remainder of our days here on the Earth.   It is a "life's work," in the fullest.   We believe very much that one person can change the world, it happens all the time; we believed it as a small child then somehow doubted it and went in search of a truer thing, and at this point we would ask if there is such a thing as a "dark night of the soul," and if so, whose job exactly was THAT to hand out?  ("The Devil's?").   Because that was the thought for the day here... ("discuss amongst yourselves"); the ghosts and I have been on it most of the day, extending it to include all that is considered "trauma," and all "Terrors," and "mental illness," to the conclusion we might have to find out who exactly we are might have to thank for all that, and just as genuinely, just as deeply, and just as un-mockingly.  Much editing should be expected, (in departure from my own piece of work), leaving off the introductory paragraphs, we say as always and of all things, "to be continued."}

DEAREST NICOLE.. AGAIN

^{5 December 2024}Really impossible to not write you, (at 2am), with my life such a complete bag of shit. (really hate other peoples' definitions of words like "compulsion," as that one is applied equally to an attachment to another human being as it is to the attachment to drinking a liter of whiskey).. It is incredible to think of how much I think of you. It scares me. What my life is apart from you. By itself. I don't want to look at it. I have to.  

If I could pin point what my life is lacking, or what I am lacking.. then go get or do that.. be fulfilled.. I'd bring that to you and give it to you.. not on purpose.. people give to and take from each other far outside of their own intentions and "realities."  As things stand, I can only bring you my deep desire for fulfillment.. and what is that?

Because I'd want to be fulfilled alone of myself before allowing anyone else into the picture, (this is the common belief), and to flourish being attached to others and having them be attached to me; why would I want someone to be attached to me if I was "incomplete?"  It will not work otherwise. It is the same for you, I mean, if you are not complete of yourself...

Pretty much everything in me says, "she's lying," and god only knows what this is about, (your not wanting to come over).  If you really think that stupid website is going somewhere, I don't.  Not really.  I mean, to money.  If that's all you are doing this for.  The possibility of it getting you money.. I can't see it happening.  Oh, I believe in the Art I produce.  I believe in my self, (the "philosophy" I'm tied up in), and what I am trying to do, (with my self and my life).. I am not certain we can be attached and apart both.  I f you really are "in love," with me, or love me to the degree you don't want other company.. 

The sex issue in all of life, (with and without you), is a real strain because for me it's like a drug and this is why I don't think about you when I masturbate, and why I write the woman in Rochester and make certain she gets the impression I am thinking of her when I am "cumming."  I imagine she is thrilled, whether or not this is true, she never makes comment.  She's an old married woman, I don't know how happily or unhappily.. but you can see how it is warped, how it is all a lie, the source of my fantasy is not her, or you, but jumps around from scenario to scenario, sometimes past experiences, sometimes totally imaginary ones.. the point is, masturbation is in my opinion drug use.. or at least an activity that is "unhealthy," (unnatural), by its very nature.  And for me it causes deep shame, which is destroying my life and confidence.  I don't know why you are leaving me alone but this practice of texting this woman and pretending this out is nothing I'd want to be a part of any "partnership," or marriage.  I'd like to eliminate it from my life, but alone here in the evenings is so unnerving.. I always masturbate.  Sometimes in the morning too.  It's not something I really want to tell you about OR hide from you.  I mean, there's no way I can go on hiding it from you.  

I don't want this, I can't have this, (our "attachment," or interplay), be about a promise between us, ("to love and cherish for all time"), because that, I believe, is the real recipe for disaster, lying, hiding, cheating, etc.  Your basic "American," misery and horror story.  I do think about you killing me as a possible "conclusion to the story," (at least in the sense of time on the earth or interaction, intimacy and engagement with each other), but I also see it as something I really can't care too much about.. I won't kill myself for the same reason; I really don't care about the difference between being alive and being dead.. (I think of you killing me because I ask for your assistance in my suicide).. I mean, both things are inevitable and natural, and not to be feared.. a life lived in fear is no life at all.. it doesn't matter how "unhappy," I am alive.  Given enough time, all the issues would work themselves out, unless I live, or try to live, on a story of what my life is instead of what it really is.. this is the heart of the matter.. (why no healing results from living out, or in, stories).

Most of my life I viewed from outside, (dreaming of myself being interviewed, for example, and things like that, fantasies of myself in another place and time), but always, as children do, overly concerned with how people felt about me, (this is the worst effect of being traumatized).  But I think of some people like Jack, (Thursday morning Jack), who, after hearing his "story," it's difficult to believe he is a true alcoholic and yet he has more or less "built a whole life," (or the story of a life), on that PREMISE.  He married a woman in the program.. and as far as things look, from what he shares.. well, god knows what the rest of his life looks like.. how he spends his time.. if there is anything in his head beyond this story of Jack in A.A. (and elsewhere.. with his family of origin, etc etc).. but it's a false premise if he is not "alcoholic," or, one could ask, "is it really that harmful," or even "is that all there is, for a human animal anyway?" (to expect and to live out).. is this the experiencing of maximum potential, or actualizing of the true nature of the animal?  (the way a cat or a dog, or any other "creature," on the face of the earth experiences itself)...

I want to actualize, manifest, and bring into being the absolute nature of my being.  

I want to actualize, manifest, and bring into being the absolute nature of my being.

I want to actualize, manifest, and bring into being the absolute nature of my baing.

Because everything else is a story and a taking in of my senses.. (the outside world).  And life is a play, from the inner to the outer and the outer in.. should these be balanced?  Me going out to others, others coming into me.. this seems to be all there is, but it is blocked and stopped, (intimacy), or that flow of being one to another, well, since it cannot be stopped, it seems to be "skewed," in such a way as things like "suicide," exist.. or such egregious self hate.. things totally against nature.

And it's seeming like I should put this on the website as it is some of the most brilliant and true things I've ever said in my life.. (except of course for the confession of the sex use, but even that, what's the use of living a hidden life?  I'm thinking even Jesus eluded to that question when he said, "you must go to market," in the parable about the "hidden talent," that you will lose your money, what was given to you and what little you have, if you hide it away.. this has always been the unsolvable piece of the puzzle for me.. what is "the market?"  How do I go there, and exchange my talent for increase?).. 

And what will the rest of my town think of and feel toward me if they ever get their grubby little hands on this most personal knowledge of me? How much time should I spend worrying about this most pointless activity and practice.. "gossip?" One could say of gossip even that it is "evil," if it bears "false witness," but the free putting it out there for all the world to see trumps gossip completely, and all that's left is to be believed, or not.And who will be so foolish as to put his entire life out there for all the world to see, and this love story.. hahaha.. (anything with "story," in it is now completely suspect).. why expose the most personal and intimate details if this should not be the greatest love on the face of the earth.. and if it is not.. to be exposed as well...

 ***

GETTING BACK TO MY FATHER'S walking on water.. (in the middle of Lake Ontario).. or not.. I'd have to say that my father was a very practical man.. and I'd imagine if he saw a good reason to get out of the boat and walking around on the water, he's have done it, or, literally, died trying.. though, my father was a good swimmer he also drank a lot of beer out there on the boat.. (his boat, I should say).. so the story of Jesus walking on the water breaks down right about there for me.. with the question, what's the point? Why would anyone have any reason to walk on the surface of any body of water? What's he gonna do out there.. a summersault? Some jumping jacks? What? I mean, if anyone can name something useful to do out there standing in the middle of a lake, tell me.. other than to show off? Maybe charge people to watch you? Make a real freak show of the thing. I don't know. The whole thing sounds like nonsense to me.. but I have to ask myself, is there no value to the story?I think it makes some sense, or has some use, if we consider "water," (as in the tarot), to be a symbol for emotion and feeling, (one could ask the practical use for flipping cards over on a table and looking at them but that's beside the point).. if this is the case and we could substitute the word "emotion," for "water," the thing begins to suggest something else happening entirely, as in "walking on emotion," (as opposed to being walked over or engulfed by them).. I mean, everywhere people "feed," on the emotions and feelings of others, some being "good food," some being "poison," we go about all day asking "how do you feel," or more aptly, "what is your feeling about this," or even more aptly, "what is your feeling about ME?" And to wrap the thing up, the question that might be answered, did my father walk on emotion? Did he walk on my feelings? And what was the point?

***

People might think that opening myself up to public humiliation is some sort of masochistic act, exhibitionism, some sort of "cry for help," or anything they will.. whatever words rise up in them in accord with their feeling as they read.. and in my defense I can say it is an attempt to end an addiction, or find greater "treatment," for an illness.. one that actually works.. instead of a story of treatment.. like we fine in Alcoholics Anonymous.. (in my brutal opinion).. too often.  I think the difference between "guilt," and "shame," is a good example.. maybe THE premiere example of what I like to think of as "monkey fuck."  It's when a man or a woman doesn't know what they believe anymore because of the conflicting voices that have been recorded by the brain in the course of a lifetime.. resulting in.. well, look outside.  People do things no other animal could even imagine doing.. we call it "illness," in an effort to separate the bad from the good, but the same social mechanism is responsible for both.. the same interaction and human engagement that produces the golden boy, unfortunately gives us the sociopath..  I say this because the sociopath and the psychopath are said to have "no conscience," meaning no sense of "guilt," as the results of feeling no "empathy," for another.. something like that.  But as we see in such cases as that of Brian Laundry, the psychopath is fully capable of experiencing "shame," and this is crucial, as evidenced by his knowing enough to not say anything truthful, to anyone.