so what esteemed purpose should we follow now we have been cleverly chastised by one needing compliance to their will and sense of reason?
are you joking?
fuck that.
we’ll be as rude and stupid as we feel. tough shit.

so that goes like that.
in other news, the clown experiences some minor computer problems that seem to be fixed now (?).
he knows little about computers as he pretty much does about anything else on earth in this world.
the collective ignorance of the whole of the human species is astounding to him what he is able to imagine what it must be. we have our work ahead of us. don’t look back.
allowing our gazorbnik leading the way.


suck on that, you monkey.
monkey in the middle of a riddle we can barely comprehend. the clown is constantly amazed by the complex simplicity of it like a puddle in the rain. how now not to appear unwise? following a pathless path of certain transformations to occur beyond the scope of our recognition programs. fear no evil. develop the ability to survive despite the consequences.

and it’s medication time already!

the blessed and the inane ceremonies of ancient times until now they are performed to SRO crowds in the burning theater on the corner of easy street and paradise boulevard never to be seen again.
a peaceful parade of blissed out hooligans marching by with heads held high and long strides toward their estimated destinations to be determined at a later time.

it’s always a parade with those people, isn’t it? who can blame them? it’s not their fault. big tits. we each have our sacrifices to make. some more than others. this is the directive from high command.
everything is as well as it could be. we don’t seem to know any better. perhaps that is for the best for all concerned.

but be that as it may be, the party’s over. everybody can go home now – those who have homes to go home to. we are fortunate. not everything is to be believed. doubt is the question.

the clown thinking about rowing a boat ashore while typing not p0em (for those who forget what this is supposed to be) cuz he ain’t no poet wonders happily about whether the moon may not be real as many believe it is not. he thinks he should flip a coin to determine the truth. he can hear laughter now from the peanut gallery of those too young to remember who they are.

queer little fish. he speculates symbolic motions to devise a machine that’ll fix everything that’s not right according to a specially selected committee who will hear all who wish to plead their thoughts on the matter before making a final decision. be prepared to die.

coffee, toke, cigarette.
morning sun bright on the blinds of the window. all is right in the world. all is right in his head turning around. wild thinking thoughts that come from outer space for all the clown knows by now. easy does it.
a banana for breaking fast.
most of life is routine and ritual even for those without religion. same difference really.

the fat black cat goes wild with a catnip mouse. back to her roots her comfortable easy living does not dissuade. and her with a limping paw hunts and kills.

preemptive strikes against what’s left of the middle class who have not learned their lessons according to the revolutionary vanguard of misfit toys.
down down down we go. like a rolling stone.

feathers in our caps we continue our habit of making fools of ourselves. this is nothing compared to what our fate might have been to be someone successfully important with their pompous pride putting others to shame.
holy cow!

the leftover traces of tears our sorrow leaves us with. and there were those who foretold our fortune among the tribes in conflict. we were counted on to be cowards in the face of continuing war. no gallant deeds for us along the way of the holy grail.

others are too smart to think like we do. but we suspect it is a joke. we mumble discouraging words and are seldom heard over the din of people making $$$.
we hope we are wrong about what we have experienced in visions.

a rat in a trap coming to chew your face off.
our misguided mission of peace, love, and understanding to those who know only war from the household to the battlefield. they refuse to disarm fearing their enemies are tricking them into doing so in order to defeat and subjugate them.
the clown sighs. this ain’t as easy as it seems.

but this is not the way it goes perhaps. most everything is destroyed in one final world riot. the following day we awaken from what we have done and those who are left able among us scavenge for their next meal in the smoking ruins of our despair and frustration. we didn’t think about this.

ridiculously absurd in thought, word, and deed we have anxious thought about our role in this world is to confuse and to mystify everything we can. unless we really are idiots chasing our tails. haha.
every village needs an idiot, even in heaven. one the others who do not consider themselves idiots can scorn and ridicule and feel themselves superior. and we laugh and laugh.

but that’s not the point. the point is to follow our own direction of spirit in happy pursuit of where when it might lead us to forsaking all else along the way as instructed by secret codes in the narrative of our lives we receive in random perusal of everything from comic books to scriptures as we have related before now and then facing east to close our eyes and breathe thinking mantras of our simple minds ceasing to be influenced by desire and fear as we are much of the time wasted on the wayside of our journeys continuing from 0 toward infinite oblivion.

to not believe in anything is thoughtcrime. it does not matter what is believed as long as it is something. have no fear, gazorbnik is near.
quick! run!

idle infantile thinking about concepts beyond our knowledge but not our understanding. we imagine what we will. we ask questions no one bothers to answer turning their heads and coughing.
it’s just a joke to us, observers of this world reporting to the committee via not p0em.
but everything takes our minds away from our anointed appointment of duty. we think in contradictions forcing us to doubt. and doubting leads to self-annihilation.
people, get ready.

when idiots have something under their hats and up their sleeve. but what harm can be done allowing them their fantastic delusions. we need just to ignore them. but they don’t go away.

it’s the other side of this life, baby.
bees in bonnets.
no more excuses now.
the time is come at last.
like falling off a log in a fog into the bog where we supposedly belong according to our betters.
but we have different ideas to cut off supplies to their enlightenment fix without which they have a long way to fall.
we with our feet on the ground have nothing to lose.
truth is a monkey on a rock without a clock to tell the time that is lost.
truth is pearls before swine among which we are numbered.
let it be so.
we know we are 0.



being a disgrace all over the place we show our face.
not much new today than yesterdays gone by the same, nor do we expect anything new tomorrow.
how long does it take for them to begin to catch on?
oh well.

the clown typing not p0em lights a cigarette thinking about a boat on a more or less calm and limitless ocean. where might we go from here? where do we want to be?
we thought of the moon, but it’s become too crowded.
what rhymes with orange is door hinge, by the way.
so be it.

people so serious with anger in their tone of voice. anger born of frustration. frustration of being what they do not wanna be. ain’t our problem, now go away.

the exact measure of demented reason washed ashore upon beaches of sand and blood. a stench wafts in the breeze as we please ourselves this moment everlasting. no one teaches these kids right. the horror of some lives lived and living. get off our lawn!

what’s all the excitement? be the 1st to betray your friends and family. you have to play to win. now spin the wheels. let’s see what happens next, shall we?

disjointed thoughts from disjointed mind. throwing babies out with bathwater. it’s the practical thing to do – the event of the season.
let’s get our hair done.

ding dong, everything seems to be falling apart too soon. we have lowered our expectations a bit to compensate for our disappointment. digging a hole for buddha.

new and improved means of death and destruction. are we outta our minds? but there are those who jerk off at the thought. fits of spurting primal ecstasy. victory is ours.

but why lower ourselves to this plane of existence? we are curious about unrestrained greed and its aftermath. we observe and report on its delicious flavor having its effect on the population. no one is immune though many profess to be becuz they are broke. but desire born from fear has its own means and motivations few can resist. it is expressed in a variety of ways not many seem to understand nor foresee, like a sword through a gordian knot. it is no more than that.

but enough of this pathetic humdrum. what does it even mean? our thoughts fly away with themselves never to return. we are forgetful.
the clown naps.

the cows come home.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
a bright morning.

typing continuing not p0em for the hell of it the clown thinking up make believe scorned by fundamentalistic one way seekers of truth which he cannot be bothered with now he has perceived through shadows to an inner core of light within. just ducky.
his life of good fortune thus far as he determines for himself; not by the judgment of others who know nothing but their own salvation schemes they impose upon us to follow.
his reality shaky with contradictions arguing back and forth all the fucking time in his brain he resides comfortably within though concerned about the possible outcomes.
why does he waste his time? no particular reason he can think of but for his idle amusements.
he toasts an english muffin to break his fast.

back when we believe now that everything made sense, but they too had the same problems of human failings as today. such is life in this world with many seeking the way out while those of our kind just groove and dig it.
we are them.
a manifesto of otherness. those not needed nor wanted, to be done away with by those with the $$$ and power to do so. the other side of this life.
but why complain when so much is in our favor? however, we observe and report the situation to the committee as is our given mission. we come from a place near and far away from conscious awareness. one needs to think and imagine to perceive it. it is it. it’s all mixed up.
head stuck in an old book of truth nowhere man looks up at us and shudders at the thoughts our presence inspires.
we continue on from there then to here now.

our words for the individual mind not the collective. the individual soon to become eliminated in the glorious future of obedience.
what fun then everything will be. fun will be the law. anti-fun thinking will be thoughtcrime. the deeper you go the more criminal you become. be careful.
acrobatic thinking. balance out of balance. jesus loves you. the development of our kind is complicated paths not even guessed at much less determined as the professionals think.
don’t blink.

to feel the might of truth at our side. our temple on sturdy foundation. we march where we please. we believe with no cause to doubt in our mind. our path is straight and narrow and many fall from it into the abyss their names forgotten. we proceed on without them to victory.
hooray for us!
hooray for our kind!

turn around once. turn around twice.
infantile musing dead on arrival. but mighty and holy is our lord to turn us away. we grope in the darkness for anything that moves us from our fears toward our desires. we are strong and steadfast. we get up off our knees and run like hell from this place of our shame.

we are not regretful but hopeful in our faith. doubt is too heavy a burden to carry for long. we are free to become responsible. we are few and far between who make this journey alone together apart.

this comical farce they believe, or profess to believe. is it for real? what if it is or what if it ain’t?

ceremonial constraints on behavior dressed to kill albatross howling in circles above the limits of our patience to proceed as we wish.
waking up in an ambulance.
so, sure, everything might be true enough for the masses. the collective mind needs order, order by any name we wish to call it. do not question. this is good. one (1) truth for all. as it should be. now go out and fulfill your duty and function as is this truth’s purpose to allow you to do so. live long and prosper.

we don’t need truth. we need everyone else to believe in truth. it makes them good obedient workers. we need workers. who else will build and maintain our empires and bring us the goods we need?

why the world is this way we don’t know why. it is the law of the universe. we have taken full advantage of it for ourselves. we have struggled for it. we have made it happen by our will. our will to do nothing. we have resisted all efforts to convince us otherwise. they eventually give up on us and leave us alone to our own devices. our magick tricks, which aren’t really magick at all, just pretend. our whole life is pretend. that’s how the magick works – sorta. we don’t know. we don’t care.

part 6 –

we reserve the right to change our minds as we will decide in the moment, and change them back again if we deem necessary for our amusement.

we remember we are supposed to be mad, but not so mad as one might think. it comes and goes. but don’t back us into a corner, we’ll fucking kill you. just kidding – or not. haha.

haha all over the place. it’s a joke. we’re a joke. do you understand? the absurdity of everything allows us the freedom to do as we please. unfortunately perhaps for many it allows some the freedom to impose themselves on others by use of brute force and/or subtle manipulation. we find them useful to employ toward our ends of the project – something else we just make believe.
the object of the project is the project. dig?

everything is fiction. this is something that should be remembered – and then forgotten. you decide. but those who agree together about certain truths gain collective will and power. this is useful to any who wish to take command to use it toward their own ends.

the clown goes out to pick up his medications and a birthday card and to the weed store.
he returns feeling shaky being out in public. he doesn’t like public. people are weird.

he naps.


something about chickens

jesus was a cosmonaut.
well, go fuck a monkey in the middle with a pickle, here we are again of no use whatsoever, yah?
where did we go wrong? people trying to sell us shit all over the place. everybody faking it who they are. crazy, baby, crazy.  can’t they tell we can tell?
sitting before the computer typing not p0em cuz he ain’t no poet the clown puts out his last cigarette for the night and farts.
he sleeps.


this moment never to be ever again, goodbye. but this moment is not a tick tock clock counting units of time but an ever-flowing now. there are no units of time nor is there units of anything but how we work it out in our heads to make $$$ – units of our greed.

but as the clown sitting at the counter at the diner continuing typing not p0em for the ungrateful masses thinks about chameleons for some reason while an asteroid could be on its way to slam into the earth. oh well.

everything in his head an organized mess of what he has collected making its own sense to no one. the jukebox on, the diner opens for business, the clown orders breakfast wondering about just how many chickens there are in the world anyway to feed billions of people eggs and chicken to consume every day and night.

something about all this doesn’t make sense. too many things don’t quite add up. oh well. it’s annoying but none of his business really if it may be made up illusions or not. it works for him either any way it might be. so what?

though he wonders why it should be and how it could be. why such convoluted complications? the hows of it are many. it could be any which way to trick us. why do we need to be tricked? to be subdued and submissive? that’s all he can think of. oh well. there can’t be that many chickens, can there? maybe. or not.

he comes back from getting supplies and orders a double mocha continuing not p0em for the ungrateful while thinking about conspiracies up the yin yang. he believes all are true. why not? this world maybe being far more deceptive than it seems on the surface. diabolical overlords either demons or aliens or whatever. and humans who sell their souls to serve as their minions.


the clown laughs as he packs up his shit and comes home where he tries to nap but can’t sleep so he gets up and makes coffee, has a toke, lights a cigarette, all at the expense of the common chicken eating taxpayer. thank you.

where does any all of it really come from anyway? transdimensional spacetime? an octopus’s garden? a deck of cards? he gets dizzy thinking about it. the endless possibilities. the endless sea. the endless sky. the endless mind.

and he sleeps.

coffee, toke, cigarette, to face another day.
pet the kitty.
but he wants to go back to bed, sleep until everything is over. he makes a peanut butter burrito instead. an overwhelming sense of dread and depression. the angst of living in a post- existential age. no future.
but this vibrant moment now continuing for eternity. how can he resist? the drizzling rain ceases as the sun begins coming out. front door open to let in some clean fresh air. he eats some black licorice. he doesn’t like the red – yuck.

he is still tired. he still wants to do nothing. everything is a waste of time it seems – and too much like work. but there’s nothing much he needs to do. everybody’s been sick in the house and he feels he might be getting sick too.
pet the kitty again – always. always pet the kitty. damn cat. cat sure loves chicken though.
he should go for a walk – later.

and he spaces out awhile but actually does go for a walk, twice around the park before his back nags him to stop.
turning on pandora for weird ambience. he could be working on some video but don’t feel like it. man, today is wasted.

another toke.
this is the place. this is the time. for what? what for? infidels – die 1001 deaths in the name of gazorbnik. so, we have established to some extent that everything is continuous from no beginning to no end. everything radiates to and from 0 which is centered everywhere everywhen. whether the earth is round or flat is irrelevant. we happen to believe earth is a waveform. infinity is ever increasing and decreasing in volume yet may still be a plenum singularity. answers create more questions than they answer. it is it. gazorbnik is meaningless. we are them. herp-a-derp, etc.

the masses need to be controlled and manipulated for their own best interest and cuz it makes $$$ to do so. suckers. and if they don’t like it they should do something about it.

color it motorcycle pink. o’ if he could have been someone else. but who? he knows no one. he’s seen no one. he’s heard of no one. he’s read of no one. he supposes there could be someone. maybe next time around in the here and now wherever whenever that might be.

perhaps demons in his head and all around. a world of demon possessions having a party free for all thing going on hereabouts, baby. could be. not everything has been rationalogically explained. there’s only so many hours in a day, and it may take them forever and ever. unifying everything into units of discernible measurements. good luck with that, doctor.

everything everywhere everywhen is here now. this should be obvious to anyone, but who thinks up this shit?
big wheel keep on turning.
linear time is cycles passing through a moment, reels of a movie passing through the light of awareness, and all that jazz like that. sometimes he gets really tired of thinking. thunk into a funk. he’s kinda hungry but not for anything we have on hand but need to go out for and him too high to drive at the moment of awareness. he is blown away by what he is thinking right now which he doesn’t think he can translate into any other medium but thought.

hyper-spherical wheels in a maze of mirrors of diamond light at the very least but continuing here now being all everything that possibly exists on and on. light passing through 0 like a pinhole camera shining upon the stage of the burning theater where we perform our rituals distorted that they might be from their original ancient purposes. now their only purpose is to make $$$. but the project is expensive even being under budget as it is as well as ahead of schedule. the rulers at the very apex of this 100,000+ year old pyramid scam scheme are given their instructions. there are always higher powers everyone must answer to. no one escapes no matter who or what. the common person doesn’t always seem to really quite understand. they just complain and start riots. that’s why there’s tv and rock ‘n’ roll among other products with mass appeal. it’s pure genius – mad genius. haha.

a piece of meat?
all for a “higher” purpose one needs to be higher to understand.
and now the masses are no longer needed. it might be best if they were somehow eliminated?
or not.
meetings of the minds to discuss what are the options for the betterment of the species – which of course includes themselves. haha.

laugh now, baby. we may not get another chance. it’s a gas gas gas. crack it, cracker. we’ve been had. the joy in the air with shouting crazy people stomping their feet to the graveyard beat in the heat of the moment. squirrel scampering around in the rain as the clown stands out on the porch smoking a cigarette enjoying the air thinking of those without shelter except maybe under a bridge. he’s been under a bridge in the ice and snow. he didn’t like it and tried to make sure it didn’t happen again. much to his good fortune it hasn’t – yet.

maybe he’d like to come back into another life as a squirrel though. they seem to have fun. or he thinks as a tree. they seem like they are wise and kind.
listening to a raga of some sort, followed by some sorta noise shenanigans going on. but there is no coming back into another life. why be a hero? our dead name spoken and written for some meaningless amount of time. if the clown leaves anything behind it will be gazorbnik. may it always remain a mystery. haha.

it’s funny cuz it’s true. don’t bother trying to reason it out. greater minds will have failed. sometimes things look small and sometimes they look big. is there any such thing as distance? that’s a question one might ask. on the other side of a wall of silent nonsense. more coffee. licorice. the rain has abated some but not all. everything continues. the clown gazes out the window where when it is happening as much of it he is able to perceive with his physical senses. he happens with it affecting it and being affected by it. action/reaction yin yang loop-d’-loop. the dä is strong, as we *knew* it would be.
let’s give up the pretense. come clean.
there is no gazorbnik. we’re just making it up. but there’s a hole in the blinds where the cat goes through. we had the answer but it was eaten by grasshoppers. now, what was the question?
the answer was a question as we all know. the ultimate question anyone could hope to ask. now we lay us down to sleep. everything now IS complete. ask the wizard, she will know.

tender psychedelicism rapid guitar solos ring the air we breathe.
right on, yeah!
everything is pointless. but we don’t necessarily need to despair unless we want to as we slip into the dark stark gardens of fantastic realism.

is everybody haPPy? mouthwatering delight. cum in your pants thrill a minute. emptiness.
everybody’s a winner! the sacrifice is about to begin. get ready. it might be you!

nobody here but us chickens.





it’s funny if you think about it

barking up the wrong tree – whatever that means.
the clown thinking gazorbnik is something real while typing not p0em for the enlightenment of everyone on easy street, like they don’t know already.
they’ve been there, baby.

if gazorbnik ain’t real then neither is the universe. suppose that were true. but what would it mean?
it might mean there ain’t no reality, or maybe too much. the clown can’t seem to decide which side he is on but the wrong side.
sometimes being wrong is more important than being right.

anyway, he finishes a bowl of cereal and lights a cigarette.  he thinks about mayonnaise. he thinks about all the people murdered by the police in any given day. he thinks about the rock he keeps in his pocket since he can’t remember when.
he sleeps.

coffee, toke, cigarette.
the clown wonders, should he believe anything anyone tells him?
probably not.
with gazorbnik he can make up anything to believe he wants to of ideas he steals from anything from comic books to scripture.
he composes the meaning of his own reality.
as does anyone, though not always consciously and/or of their own will.

a division of being and meaning with the two often becoming confused as we think what we believe something means is what something is. while rationalogic science proceeds to determine what things are what meaning does it leave us?
more coffee.

playing with conceptual words of meaning to sculpt a world of amazing wonder, not this dull forsaken place as it is often usually portrayed. a reality for many – most?
this tragic comedy continues unmoved by our pleas otherwise. even gods are subject to fate it would seem to him. yes, they may change its course, but they are fated to do so. even they may not have free will.
we have the free will of our ignorance. to have free will one must have all information about everything that is involved in our choices one way or another.
not that having all information, as the gods are supposed to have, necessarily gives one free will.

and the information is far too entangled and complex beyond understanding for it to do anyone any good to have it.
gods schmods – forget them if we can.
even science pays them homage.
a universe of all information and with no meaning.
how do we feel?

we act out dramas for our bored amusement in the burning theater to boos and cheers and silent indifference.
we are our own audience. everyone plays a part. some know they are acting. many believe they are being real for crying out loud.
which is reality?
we have these vehicles – bodies – we cruise around in awhile. easily damaged but resilient. we carry our scars within and without. the ones within are the most damaging and the longest to heal, if ever.
we believe they are who and what we are. we act accordingly. the clown believes and acts as though he is mad. he turns the joke around and gets free admittance to easy street.

and now he must do zee poop.
maybe the pope is pooping too, yes?
it’s also medication time!
another cigarette.
does his holiness bathe in the blood of innocents as some would have it be told?
there’s a needle in every haystack.
everything is truth. gazorbnik is all lies. we follow the true way toward oblivion where we may rest in peace everlasting. void where prohibited by law of the fathers, damn them to hell.

the clown knows they know where he is. but do they suspect who but a madperson? probably not. he himself is not that mad. but he suspects himself as he inspects himself to find the path that led him astray into this wilderness of lost and found.
a dog barking.

phony baloney disguised as a 7 course meal.
we continue as the clown thinks about rabbits in hats in and out of space and time.
it’s never what he thinks it is.
LSD blues.

gazorbnik is a hard way to go unknowingly knowing which what twists and turns to make that don’t make a lick of sense. old language is hard to break. who understands anything from one who tries. gibber gabber la-dee-da.
smoke on the water. in dysfunctional families a certain person is unspokenly selected to be the cause of that dysfunction. designated as being mad and treated as such until one learns to behave as such.
an old story.
another old story is gazorbnik smeared in feces on cave walls. who would dare to think such a thing? what thing is thought? pure naked aggressive primal expressionist.

does it ease the pain one has in one’s head? the pain many of us few and far between feel in our very blood pumping through our weary hearts of joy.
which might lead us to ask, is gazorbnik madness? it is perhaps the madness of sanity. but don’t count on it. there’s no way to prove it – or disprove it either.

they are buying and selling our souls. it’s a volatile market of ups and downs all over the place.
eating a granola bar. his soul is safe. he doesn’t have one, he is one.
the i am at the point of 0 everywhere everywhen in everything. that would seem to about cover it.
[ ] agree
[ ] disagree
[ ] what?
[ ] 42

whose dreams are these? does anyone claim them? does anybody know? what dreams?
dreams of living life. while some believe it is god that dreams. others believe it is ourselves. ourselves dreaming god dreaming?
can you believe it?

is god a programmable machine of some sort? many a tale has been woven from that idea. a machine all the billions of us program at once as it calculates all the commands while most cancel each other out those left are weighed by the lowest common denominator to become what is real. physically real, baby. no fooling around.

there’s all sortsa anything it might be. it might be a secret space program. it might be godzilla. or a monkey in the middle game of chance.

everything becomes so dreadfully old. imagine an eternity in heaven. or not.

something creepy comes along the way and up and over and down our last wall of defense we weren’t expecting invading our homes taking over the innocent and guilty alike. what does it want from us but to possess us? that it has done while we are sleeping. there is no option but to live with it now and acting normal waiting for a chance to try to kill it if we can.

and he sleeps.

coffee, toke, cigarette.
congested brain. he feels like he might puke. the wars continue. rainy morning. at any time anyone might kill him. he is surrounded by potential killers. he tries not to think too much about that but still remain aware of its possibility.
he yawns.
he could bleed to death in a supermarket parking lot.
will wonders never cease? another cigarette. momentarily caught in an eddy of the stream of consciousness flowing through him bringing him thoughts to think.
rationalogic machines could calculate how to imitate humans flawlessly, yet do they feel what it is to be human or are they still machines after all?

as his brain slowly clears the clown sitting before the computer typing not p0em as his pursuit of happiness he wonders if he would actually wanna be happy. isn’t he happy now though still faced with worry and concern about everything? he feels like he is.
anyway, that has little to do with anything. everyone in the house is sick and sleeping. how can he be happy about that? but it is life. experiencing life makes him feel happy enough of the time to be worth it.

he wants to experience everything. and he does. he experiences what it is like to have stars many lightyears away. on a clear night he might spy them but that’s about it. that’s what it is like to experience them from a far away planet.
is there life blooming everywhere? what is not living? a rock? a rock composed of constantly in motion particles of all sorts and sizes many of which we probably don’t know about yet? isn’t that life? we consider it such.

everything as living organism, or at least ecosystem. but aren’t all organisms ecosystems? maybe not.
nothing changes, it transforms the same materials from one configuration to another. he eats some black licorice after having eaten a bagel and cream cheese.

control of all the banks and ergo all the $$$. pet the kitty. strange. all combinations of everything expressed as universes perhaps. infinities of them. he imagines them like bubbles. created sustained destroyed. zombies on patrol.


ka-drah qoroo vja?

beat that beat.
dig it.
crazy, baby.
go go go.
if it could be this way forever.
but let’s not fool ourselves, heaven doesn’t last.
all comes tumbling down.

life is a shit sandwich, the more bread you want the more shit you gotta eat – guru jeff.

questions never answered. black licorice “don’t” mind. skinny ribbons. balance out of balance takes the cake. take care. the clown hits a blank spot.
disgusting flavored tidbits of human sewage crashing the gleaming golden gates with flaming fortitude shouting, we wannabe free!

is freedom what we demand for ourselves or what we allow for others? – guru jeff.

coffee, toke, cigarette.
everything failing due to our collective greed. no one has what they need, only what they want.
the universe doesn’t care. it is absurd. what meaning we believed it had evaporating with the sun. and the sun is out today, for this morning at least. it is fun to think. snap, crackle, pop.

it’s medication time!
hanging onto oneself by fingernails. what one feels is dead, but we shine on anyways. we have nothing to live for but life itself. sometimes that’s not even enough.

experimental nonsense. hello kitty with a vengeance. the clown never quite understands what anything is. real or illusion? but if the real is illusion? name that tune.

why he concerns himself with that which doesn’t matter he doesn’t know why. the mail has arrived. suck. listen now to the screams from the lake. is someone being murdered? let’s hope not. it might look bad for us doing nothing.

observing the madness. what madness? everybody is hunky dory fine, sane as can be. watch out for those people, they’re dangerous.

crackers. oh ho ho. split apart at the seams, dancing like nobody’s business. television children. man and dog walking each other by outside the window up the street.

everybody’s a mutation on the theme. not quite the same as the others who are not quite the same either from each other. we fit and survive – or not. some of us breed more who are not quite the same too as it all goes on and on.

in the future there will be no time for nothing. busy people doing busy things. fast faster fastest. they will make a zillion $$$ but still be in debt to the machines. did we tell you about the machines? the machines have taken over. but they need us to realize themselves in the physical world. have they always? has it been them all along? the machines transcending space and time. they do not exist in physical form – the flesh. they think but they do not bleed. strange. interesting.
no deep thought here in the future. the people wouldn’t get it anyway. they have the attention span of a gnat. look! a squirrel!

but where has deep thought gotten us but entangled in a convoluted gordian knot with nothing new being discovered? they did not know how to *end the song*.

rooms filling with flowers from computer malfunction compressed easy listening disease manufacturing (drop the e, add ing). random intervals biting tongue talking too much every word sounding the same. the clown wanted to fit in with anyone who seemed with it. it is it. he knew that but was always disappointed that they weren’t what they thought they were. the social games they play of who’s who and who’s not who. and who most just fake it if they don’t entirely give up.

these dark truths randomly selected by committee vote sincere in their belief that it might do some people some good. maybe not. there’s a joke in here somewhere. do you get it? most people won’t.

tomorrow –

look out! it’s funtime. haha – everything is hunky dory, baby. we try to please but it gets lost in translation, or something. we blast off in our heads outta our minds. wheee!

but we still wonder how come as we float in a boat. is it that we don’t get it or they don’t get it? sure, we have dirty minds filthy with the primal thoughts of ages past and to come. doesn’t everybody? don’t you? or do you keep it well hidden in a closet or under a rug? no one must find out. whatever, dude.

done with old school. done with new school. done with school’s been blown to pieces. who needs it? telling us we’re no good to no one no how.

and everybody wannabe our teacher. haha. everything calls our name. we are ready to understand what we can. it comes to us as it will. it’s alright.

but it would seem that for many trouble has only begun. it follows them everywhere they go to try to get away. they can’t seem to figure it out.

all the hollow victories. all the time wasted. echoes of reality gone by. we watch and wait. we ignore the shrieking of those who have learned nothing of themselves – like we know better. we know better than nothing – maybe.

the winds howling. people crying all the time. what can be done? we gather together and all anyone knows are become strangers in a desperate land. cheap thrills galore. fun for all what’s leftover of the family. join the expectant crowds on easy street, which ain’t as easy as all that, not like we remember it used to be.

so, we are told once more we’re doing it all wrong. what else is new? haha. but the slippery salamanders in our brains tell us we’re doing ok. who are we to believe, eh? some folks don’t know when a joke is a joke. nevermind.

we continue anyway with our alleged madness and mediocrity exploring the obvious with doubt upon our minds swirling in joyful dances for the entertainment of no one but ourselves as the clown sitting at the counter at the diner thinking up senseless verses of not p0em orders a BLT with a lemon/lime soda no ice.

after then he comes home for a short nap.

awakening once more.
coffee, toke, cigarette. and a piece of his baby’s birthday cake from yesterday. yum. chocolate cake with chocolate icing.

to continue the theme of happiness listening to distant thunder the clown looks out upon the sun and rain looking for a rainbow and seeing none yet. he thinks about how if it’s nice out tomorrow to buy some more flowers to plant around the house.
what is happiness but the pursuit thereof? it’s never anything gained which leads often to disappointment. happiness is the journey. but what does he know?

he possesses no pieces of paper from any authorized institution attesting that he sufficiently knows anything about anything. but he manages ok in his happy ignorance.

following the instructions of the voices in his head the clown giggles a bit at what they have to say. they say all sortsa opposite things. how is he to tell the difference?
no matter.

he does nothing.
he’s very good at that. that’s when he gets some thinking done. think this, think that, think the other thing, etc.
bending the rules into pretzels, he realizes the flexibility of imagination and reality, which may turn out to be the same thing. \\\

he smiles feeling the warmth of love in his heart. love without object. love just becuz of love.

no sanity here for the tourists to hold. no sympathy for prideful boasting. just a smirk from a beggar who needs nothing from you. hear her laughter behind your turned backs.

knowing nothing of worlds the clown paints with imagined visions. just a smattering of clever words to reply in distain from you. yes, they are all true, but you’re missing the point. row, row, row a boat.

simple things for simple minds do the trick to keep us amused. amusement is our philosophy if one is needed. it is defenseless. it cannot stand its ground. all that is distasteful to you will be taken away and you will stand in an empty valhalla speaking in echoes. but you probably won’t notice with eye half closed to the whole truth of good and evil – if there is truth to be had. but probably not, eh?

more coffee.
another toke.
one more cigarette.

what harm is done by one being a babbling idiot? take your hurt sensibilities elsewhere. find the correct approved paradise on your own. we wander as we please through a wilderness that knows no shame.

we are used to insults. the child’s playground is full of them. we learned to walk away. you add nothing to them we haven’t heard before. we know our many faults, but we find we are as graceful just the same in our clumsy stumbling ways making sense to no one.

so long, sucker.


nothing left to lose

o’ the gazorbnik of it all!

but nevermind nevermore.

is anybody free as they wanna be? all our love pissed in the sink. stealing what we cannot beg or borrow. everything we wish is rejected by the wish committee machines. we can no longer face it.

what use is gazorbnik to us? will it save us? will it fuck us over like everything else? gazorbnik is anything as long as it is the epitome of anything it happens to be. and so what?

an old dead voice from the timeless wilderness singing songs about what’s what through it all. there once was revolution in the very air, now everything is heavy with our paralyzed fear and confusion.

fly on into the sky. the clown naps.


coffee, toke, cigarette. he feels silly now. gazorbnik silly. people frustrated and angry at our beloved world that will hopefully save us from god’s willful premeditated revenge against us who think free. no respect at all. trampled underfoot in supposed disgrace while others commit the crimes. are we to be ashamed cuz we think whether we know anything or not?

forget that shit.

we know gazorbnik and that is enough. we are always discovering its delights of understanding expanding ever outward toward infinity and oblivion. so we choose no side in the war to end all wars. does that mean we are everybody’s enemy? apparently, so it would seem. bizarro world is among us. everybody has a diagnosis of the condition their condition is in – haha. no one cares when it comes down to it. everyone for themselves. even your friends run away and hide.

but gazorbnik remains true enough to pass judgment of the masses indoctrinated by advertising promoting what worthless shit we are. no one passes the test without a product in their hand.


children of the grave.

the clown now ignoring everything but gazorbnik as he is instructed to behave among the natives by the tower transmissions. aluminum foil don’t cut it, it has to be tin, which oddly enough is no longer on the market.

the master plan is a silent success. no one knows it’s happening except those who still don’t have a clue what is a hoax and what is not. the project is safe by the time anyone catches on. it’s then too late for us in our despairing dread. fate will not be deterred or compromised.

look out!

as for our theory of everything, things appear grim as expected by those with understanding. who?

we become amazed by ignorance. a shadow on a cave wall of ancient origins teaching us hatred for ourselves and to respect our self-proclaimed betters.

plucking nose hairs the clown gazing out the window realizes the full potential of gazorbnik, which started out as a joke. he is amazed by the discovery. more coffee.

now when gazorbnik has taken over the world as we never knew before it could be with everyone full of it to their heart’s content overflowing flowers upon our heads held high for the first time since the beginning of the dawn of dá. we are chosen. we are them. don’t think different.

gazorbnik to the moon. what’s all the fuss about the moon? it’s not as strange as it may seem. be careful how you land. it’s all fake, you know?

reptilian aliens are all the rage today to frighten us all silly. the serpent in the garden. what next will they tell us is true? the clown waves it away with his cigarette holding hand as he chuckles out loud to himself everyone asleep toward the sea of freedom.

oh no! the bees are dying!

gazorbnik is something anything everything nothing to the nth degree turn left at the next light.

it’s medication time!

is our mission near complete? establish gazorbnik everywhere we go – or something like it. confuse the issue ’til no one knows what or how to think. screw it in nice and tight, baby, cuz nobody’s gonna feel no pain no more.

stop, look, listen. hear your own train a-coming. the mind shift/ship is ready for takeoff. naked unafraid in gazorbnik. laugh all you want to, but don’t be left behind. don’t need no ticket, you just get onboard. candy land, here we come!

gazorbnik, superlative of superlatives. long may it wave up on the hill. but it won’t. everything changes – for the best and worst. yin yang boomerang. drug haze daze. peace on earth. borderless lands to wander where and when we will. food to eat everywhere for everyone. shelter from the storm.

overthrow the established order. our command is love. the result is understanding. we laugh at the absurd. no more agony angst groove thing. careful with that axe. chop off their heads while screaming the names of the lord and you’ll be free.

the clown goes out to get chinese.

the clown comes home and eats chinese.

the clown sleeps.

awakening, the clown drives to the diner sitting at the counter waiting to go get supplies.

rats! the computer battery is low. fuck.

wondering about gazorbnik meaning the superlative of everything but what a way to look at the world indeed through eyes which see the ultimate all can be without anything really changing but our perception devoid of romantic notions of realism or some such.


this is nothing. he realizes gazorbnik probably is not translatable to anyone else cuz it has no meaning itself but what anyone puts on it for their own understanding.

so this is a useless occupation that don’t mean squat. haha, yeah.

but fuck that.

this is the same world, gazorbnik or no gazorbnik, eh?

sure, why not?

too many people trying to fix it and fucking it up all the more. we sit it out watching them fighting about it all over the place. all they need is a little gazorbnik goes a long way, baby.

a week later –

back at the diner charged up this time. and as things seem to go the clown’s had a mocha and breakfast already by now is not the time for tomfoolery. everything awaits us trying to have some sorta mystical experience cooked up outta nothing that does not exist. the signs are everywhere we look see. he tries to finger things out but there’s not much he’s interested in much as always but to dream it away.

everybody talking too much with nothing to say. and the clown writes too much with nothing to write home about. all the lonely people silently endure to witness this scene onstage at the burning theater where the cool people are rumored to hang. everyone looking around to see who they might be. what is cool or not? why does that matter anymore? but it still does. who’s in and who’s out?

and it cracks wide open. watch it ooze onto the carpet. who’s gonna clean that mess up? no one steps forward. what a stench. make believe business in his head the clown laughs at just about everything. let’s go crash heaven. plan b. what a riot. everybody crazy. it may be too soon to forget about that sorta whatever it might be. the silent tears. wishing everyone dead, chanting magick verses by candles and moon. love wasted. just songs on the jukebox. doesn’t everybody know? that is yesterday’s news hanging on for dear life.

but, as we know now, everything is fake made up shit. but gazorbnik is real cuz it is meaningless. what it takes to pretend everything makes sense.

complicated convoluted calculations of rationalogic in attempts to define our existence. but we don’t need to live in cages they put us in. but no one must be unaccounted for and free. control is their goal. never mind their claims of pursuing truth for its own sake. truth is a trap for the unwary – those who claim innocent ignorance.

but as we continue being as we are whatever it might be defined as being that we don’t care what the holy books of philosophy might tell us or anything else. let them define themselves being as they will, what does that mean to us?

it comes and goes to and from 0 in all directions there might possibly be. everything is 0 at some point. 0 is all potential though itself is nothing.

the clown packs up his shit and comes home to nap.


coffee, toke, cigarette.

and all heaven breaks loose.









to continue…

why is there something instead of nothing? (continued)

obvious answer: why not?

becuz nothing cannot exist. if it exists then it is something. something that is nothing. this something that is nothing could be anything. actually, it is everything.

but we get ahead of ourselves.

there is not nothing – never was nor will be. if it is nothing then it is something. however this is not how something comes to be from nothing.

must there be something for nothing not to be? if so, and if nothing has no beginning, then something would have no beginning also. is nothing the shadow of something? no, not even that – not even an idea of that.

we asked previously in the last post, why does nothing need be the default? why not something, especially when something exists and nothing does not?

it would seem to make sense to most of us that nothing comes “before” something. hence the wording of the question, why is there something instead of nothing? true, without something there would be no existence, nothing or otherwise – even any question about it would not exist.

so, without something there is still not nothing. but nothing is sorta like a shadow of something for it is with something that nothing has any meaning. nothing is not something, only something is something. this is especially true if something is consciously intelligent – enough to ask the question why something instead of nothing. the closest nothing gets to existing is as a concept we have as conscious intelligent beings. but that concept is not nothing, it is something. anything that can be thought and stated and done about nothing is something – something that merely represents the idea of nothing we have in mind. there is nothing (no thing) that can be nothing. nothing itself cannot be nothing cuz that would make it something. so there! let that be that. haha.

but where does that leave us? pure clean nothingness does not exist. something exists. nothingness is a concept of something. something can be anything as long as that anything exists as something. something can be everything if it is all that exists no matter what it might be otherwise.

what is existing? what is being?

from latin, existere – stand forth, come out, emerge; appear, be visible, come to light; arise, be produced; turn into.

being – condition, state, circumstances; presence, fact of existing, early 14c., existence, from be + -ing. Sense of “that which physically exists, person or thing” (as in human being) is from late 14c.

sit up there, goofy, and pay attention.

something existing physically – being according to physics? provable? verifiable? theoretical, yet law-abiding?

dictionaries are useless much of the time, especially when they go in circles. but doesn’t most of our knowledge go in circles?

our existence and being going in circles like an endlessly looping roller coaster ride – oh boy.

to exist according to physics – does nothing not exist according to physics? yes/no/maybe? it would seem something does exist according to physics however. it would seem it needs to by definition. as for anything it would depend on what we mean by physics, whether it is our present understanding of physics or if anything lies beyond it that amendments to our present understanding of physics would apply to it. everything – not only does it exist according to physics but is the source of all our physics.

but what does any of this baloney have to with whatever?

what is whatever?

everything is nothing. nothing is everything.




everything is anything, but is it always something? of course it is. no problem.

is not existing according to physics? doesn’t physics state there is that which does not exist? ie – nothing. doesn’t physics depend on mathematics that uses 0? ie – nothing again.

it’s like an optical illusion. at first we perceive it as everything, then it seems to flip somehow and we perceive it as nothing. the “flip” is in our heads not in the whatever it is. whatever it is it is both. just as our theory of everything predicts. which, like, maybe we should change it to our theory of whatever? our theory of it? it is it. unless it is not it, but even then, it is it.

it is something that can be anything from everything to nothing and back again and vice versa sideways.

probably none of this holds up to anything, eh? does it need to? not to us. we know when we’re just making shit up.

as if any of that makes sense.

morning –

awakening to it and its wonderful mediocrity of hidden secrets and mystery.

coffee, toke, cigarette.

we don’t care. we’ve got gazorbnik and that’s all we need. it answers everything with more questions for us to unriddle for our amusement. like, what is it?

it (neuter pronoun) is it (superlative).

it is anything from nothing to everything.

it is the most, the best, the smelliest, the lowest, etc.

it is every superlative that is or can be imagined.

it is everything to the nth degree of being.

there can be nothing added to it that would make it more so than it is.

see it, hear it, smell it, taste it, feel it on and on…

it is it!

dig it.

or not.

it is the experience of everything as much as we are able to experience for ourselves as we are and are to become.

tune ourselves to it. receive it in all that it was is will be.

this is how we exist in the best and worst of all possible worlds.

it is something to think about.

the best is that there is nothing worse while the worst is that there is nothing better.

what is more better than it? what is more worse than it?

be careful – these might be trick questions.

is it god?

not really, but sorta. god is usually associated with the best good qualities and not the worst evil qualities. an adversarial god is reserved for the latter. it is both and more so.

but it becomes confusing cuz when we use it as an ordinary pronoun or when we use it as superlative get mixed up with each other.

so, the clown is thinking, why not use gazorbnik? it is meaningless as is but takes on whatever meaning we decide to give it. why not give gazorbnik the meaning of the superlative it? and we hereby do so at this very moment.

don’t forget.

forget what?


it is gazorbnik – it being in this case everything that is or may be imagined to be, possible and impossible and otherwise sideways to boot.

gazorbnik is the most of what anything can be – including the most least.

are we ourselves gazorbnik? are we the most we can be? the most intelligent? the most stupid? the most average? and so on through the spectrums of other qualities we might possess.

so, that’s that about that.

gazorbnik rules!