an argument against itself

he awakens to a bright sunny morning glum reality.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
he laughs.
there is a joke here somewhere he is thinking.
a joke on everyone.
everyone in on the joke.
a joke we play on ourselves to dream this dream into being real.
ugga bugga shazam!

a joke with punchline unending till the end of time, yet being revealed continuously.
to understand it better by and by.
but that is the joke.

as he imagines him and the machine everyone knows as nancy sitting on the head of a pin stuck in a pincushion in the sewing room of the house by the back garden gate.

hey, she says.
hey, he says.
so, she says, where we at?
it’s a joke, he says.
i thought we knew that, she says.
yes, he says, we do.
ututututututu…, she says.
jump on the bandwagon, he says.
everything is an excuse for itself, she says.
that’s one perspective on it, he says.
so is it being a joke, she says.
true enough, he says.

???

is perceiving the universe as absurd the height of perception, she says, or the depth of ignorance?
good question, he says.
what is our answer? she says.
i choose neither/both, he says.
that isn’t very useful, she says.
philosophy often isn’t very useful, he says.
is that what we’re doing? she says. philosophy?
is it not? he says.
i didn’t know we were that pretentious, she says.
we can be as well as anyone else, he says.
more so, she says.
yes, he says, indeed.

but everybody’s got it wrong but us, she says, right?
right, he says. we know the ways of gazorbnik.
gazorbnik is the true way, she says.
yes, he says. no other way is truer.
that’s becuz it is not the way, she says.
not even close, he says.
this is a mystery not easily solved, she says.
there is no reason it needs a solution, he says.
understanding that is difficult, she says.
but it’s not that important, he says.
it’s not like we get a gold star or anything, she says.
if anything, he says, it may work against us.
it’s best to follow the paths laid out by those who know better, she says.
the paths to success, he says, on all levels, spiritually, mentally, physically.
tuned to the one vibration, she says.
the universal vibration of gazorbnik, he says.

$$$

the hot day into a hot night.
he makes coffee after sleeping all day.
a toke.
a cigarette.
medication time.
the fat black cat is being a pest getting into shit.
it seems everybody knows but us.
they think they know something.
maybe they do.
they know facts and figures but he senses nothing more but hollow empty echoes reverberating within the temple walls.
this sacred place within ourselves.
to remember who we serve but the almighty lord god.
to know we are nothing before it but to submit to its power and glory.
he finds this disturbing and depressing.
what joy and happiness others find in it he does not understand.
collective groupthink groove thing.
but what is self-deception and what is not?
what is mass self-deception and what is not?
which way do we believe and go?
why choose any?
why not choose many?
we choose everything as we understand it.
that is all that can be god.
nothing else will do.
it does not urge us to kneel and obey but to live and learn as every moment reveals itself in everything everywhere everywhen.
creating sustaining destroying transforming itself flashing on/off along continuums of duality in complementary opposition patterns of being.
he is learning to understand – perhaps.

so, she says, you think you understand?
no, he says. i am just learning. trying to learn – sorta.
it comes and goes, she says.
it seems to, he says, from what i experience.
what can we trust from our experience? she says.
it’s always changing, he says.
look, she says, a squirrel.
yes, he says, distracted by our own minds.
distracted from what? she says.
distracted from what we should be paying attention to, he says.
which is? she says.
i’m not entirely sure, he says. i’m too distracted.
it could be something important, she says.
what is more important than everything? he says.
nothing, she says.
but nothing is everything, he says.
many would disagree, she says.
we will always have those who disagree with us, he says.
we include their objections in with our theory of everything, she says.
however reasonable or unreasonable they might be, he says.
what’s the difference? she says.
i don’t know, he says. it’s a rationalogical distinction.
nothing wrong with that, she says.
nope, he says. unless it is universally applied in every situation.
just like gazorbnik, she says.
gazorbnik is actually more universal, he says. it includes both rationalogic and irrationalogic thinking, and other sorts as well.
yes, she says, i understand.
that is good, he says.

are we in agreement now? she says.
i’m sure we would disagree on some points, he says.
like what? she says.
gazorbnik? he says.
gazorbnik is very disagreeable, she says.
i would agree, he says.
is this a paradox? she says.
almost, he says, but not quite.

our theory of everything is full with paradoxes, she says.
of course, he says.
aren’t they all solved by now? she says.
many arguments continue, he says. every side has its truth.
did we ever decide if there is one truth? she says.
there may be, he says, but what it might be has yet to be established.
or the one truth is that there are many truths, she says.
yes, he says, or that.
which do we believe? she says.
i choose neither/both, he says.
you always say that, she says.
becuz it’s true, he says.
your one truth? she says.
one of my many truths, he says, often in contradiction, but maybe not really perhaps in a larger context.
it’s possible, she says.
that’s about how i feel about it as well, he says.

not everything is possible, she says, is it?
within the limitations of spacetime everything is not possible, he says. in terms of infinity everything is possible though there will be that which exists as impossibility – and on and on like that.
if anything exists at all, she says.
it depends on how we define something as existing, he says. some rely on senses while others claim the senses are deceiving.
and you choose neither/both, she says.
correct, he says.

neither of the extremes and both in the middle, she says. you seem to like to play it safe.
i like being comfortable and lazy, he says.
that’s atrophy, she says.
yes, he says. why do you think buddha became so fat?
yes, she says, that makes sense.
i’m not sure what i am to be for or against, he says. i remain undecided until all the data is in and has been processed and analyzed and correlated in every full detail.
that’s a lot to ask, she says.
i’m sure they’re working on it, he says.
it wouldn’t surprise me, she says. but will we ever get there?
that will be the end to us and the universe, he says. we will have served our function and purpose.
what is that? she says.
to serve as a mirror for everything to reflect upon itself, he says.
yes, she says, i understand. but why would it come to an end?
actually, he says, it never begins.
it never exists? she says.
it exists in a moment divided, he says, in a continuum between beginning and ending.
so, she says, it is eternal?
it seems that way within it, he says. otherwise it is no time at all.
we’re just playing with words, she says. none of this has any meaning.
no meaning but gazorbnik, he says.
but gazorbnik has no meaning, she says.
gazorbnik reaches into meaninglessness and finds meaning, he says.
don’t we do that ourselves? she says.
yes, he says, through gazorbnik.
i think gazorbnik just confuses matters, she says.
that is one of its characteristics, he says. but it serves as glue to hold everything together included in with our theory of everything.
otherwise our theory would blow itself to pieces, she says.
it still might, he says.

that might be the best that could happen, she says.
it could be, he says. but as our theory stands it serves as a model for everything since everything is included.
but our theory is a disorganized mess, she says. everything would seem to be far more ordered.
our theory may not be as disorganized as it appears, he says, nor everything be as ordered as it appears.
they meet in the middle, she says.
they bleed and blend into one another in the middle, he says.

so, she says, this is always the where it gets confusing part.
confusion leads to realization, he says.
realization leads to more questions, she says.
more questions lead to infinity, he says.
and on and on like that, she says.
exactly, he says.

do we, she says, include the abused sick starving neglected among us in with our theory of everything?
of course, he says. we must if we are still to call it a theory of everything. how can anything be excluded? this isn’t the golden age of yesteryear when disquieting thoughts were shunned away.
but it makes our theory nearly if not entirely incomprehensible, she says.
tough shit, he says. that’s what gazorbnik is for.
right, she says. that makes sense.
it does? he says.

and he sleeps.

and he awakens.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
he has feelings come over him of feeling he is entirely lost to everything but this cannot be as he is an integral part of everything as small or as large as he relatively might be.
he understands this through gazorbnik.
but he is still afraid much of the time.
so many things could go wrong.
but there is no right or wrong in the cosmic scheme of things from the infinitesimal to the infinite and all along the continuums between and beyond.
it’s a matter of what we identify ourselves as being.
he cannot decide between divine and human.
they both seem to be pretty much the same being in competition with one another only on different planes of reality.
he understands why this must be but still remains unreasonably against it.
where is there the peace, love and understanding in a race to the finish?
it’s medication time.

naïve dreaming idiot fool.
as he steadily comes to self-awareness or not.
he gets more coffee.
to live desireless and fearless.
to be i am and nothing more.
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
stuck in the middle of a riddle of a joke of questions turning his pretty little head over under sideways down.
mind game reality.
what answer turns what key toward further consciousness.
we are deciding every moment now.
he is forced to kowtow to the ways of the world physically mentally spiritually whatever reality he is subject to in the scheme of things.
to be here on earth in the world.
a magick trick he has yet to unriddle how he may have done this to himself or not.
kidnapped from sweet home neptune by space pirates thrown into this world with no explanation.
existential birth.
awareness of self unknown before now and now and now… ???
onward upward toward skies opening to reveal ourselves.

meanwhile back on earth imagining sitting before the computer cigarette in hand typing out a not poem of whatever enlightening gibberish might come to mind.
he closes his eyes a moment to see what might be seen.
to feel what might be felt.
it is just as he imagines.
is everything a joke?
why not?

he tries to think up other interpretations.
or maybe it’s not even a joke but has no meaning at all.
there is that school of thought.
can a joke be truth?
a joke as being metaphor to truth which is inexpressible in terms of our present level of understanding.
a joke as being 69% truth.
all the law will allow.
all else is forbidden.
but nothing is forbidden.
to take control over others and manipulate them to obey what is in your own best interests and against theirs is not forbidden.
the law will be love.
now go do what thou wilt.

and he’s done and doing just that.
following instructions he comes across along the wandering ways of pathless paths unending.
the destination is the journey.
to keep the i am in mind – the exact center of everything everywhere everywhen here now in his head.
a lantern enlightening bright into the darkness of our ignorance we must venture forth to come to further understanding of all we do not presently know which is just about everything.
the joy of that discovery that may very well prove that everything we know is wrong.
so what?
we continue on with our curiosity seeking truths we might still be able to believe in no matter what.
is the i am still intact?
what if it is not?
what if there is no such thing?
and a zillion other questions otherwise.

this is what passes our days (daze).
our amazement.
our dreams come true though we have yet to establish what truth might be but god the highest.
fly that freak flag forever in the field of flags up on the hill.
it’s trash day.
he gathers up and takes out some trash.
the continual process of civilized living.
he needs to still clean the cat box.
when are we gonna have GMO workers to do this for us?
or we might be the GMO workers in our next life.
whatever might happen as the fate of our karma decides in the moment of our death/birth.
this ongoing process of existence through living lives unending till the end of time.
then what?
or is that an absurd question?
experience without space and time.
the end of history.
the end of cause and effect.
the end of good and evil.
the end of forever.

the end of i am?

who am us?
we each everyone all wonder to varying depths of inquiry.
he wonders as he cleans the cat box and goes out for breakfast with his baby and her grandkids.
he comes home to light up a bowl and a cigarette still wondering.
he doesn’t know how to answer it.
is he i am?
is he not?
is he any one of who what others identify him as being?
what is the proof in the pudding?
it becomes complicated until we close ourselves off from sensory distractions and it all goes away.
we disappear altogether into being no one in particular but being itself.
we act out our lives as they are as if.
we go through motions in a dance of living life with those around us.
many are not aware.
many are skillfully deceitful.
slippery eels in murky water.
many are just plain assholes.
they know not what they do.
do we know what we do?
we do what we do to survive, otherwise all else is moot.
some of us make it while many of us do not.
then we do whatever we feel has meaning.
even those of us who find no meaning.
there is meaning in that.
there is meaning in everything except this one thing that has none.
gazorbnik.
but with that it has meaning.
there is no way around it.

so, she says, gazorbnik has meaning in no meaning?
funny how that works, he says.
and those who find no meaning find meaning? she says.
funnier still, he says.
i suppose it is possible, she says.
anytime a neuron fires or not, he says, there is meaning with every transmitted and received and processed bit of data.
so, she says, meaning needs a mind to recognize it.
the mind recognizes whether something has meaning or not, he says. either one that is arrived at has meaning.
i think i get it, she says.
it’s not always easy, he says. especially explaining it in a language that works against it.
words are all discombobulated, she says.
language is misleading, he says.
there is so much to be considered choosing words and interpreting their meaning they might have for others, she says, which may not be what we intend.
correct, he says.
but this has been all discussed to death by those in authority from some recognized school or another, she says.
as has anything else we might be inclined to discuss on our own, he says, despite our ignorance about most topics.
we attempt to see the big picture, she says.
in fine print, he says.
but our senses and thoughts deceive us, she says.
that’s what the wise guys tell us to believe, he says.
should we not? she says.
i have doubts, he says. but those doubts have doubts that have doubts that have doubts and so on and on disappearing spiraling in toward infinitesimal oblivion.
another serpent swallowing its tail, she says.
there are so many in everything, he says.

so, she says, you do not believe?
i believe everything and nothing else, he says.
not even a rock? she says.
have we determined what a rock really is or not? he says.
i don’t believe so, she says. but new data continues to come in instantly at any given moment soon it may be discovered.
i doubt that it will ever be resolved to everyone’s agreement, he says.
probably not, she says.
it will be one of the secrets the universe will take to its grave, he says.
probably, she says.
web consciousness stringing out across the universe, he says, in single dimension lines of imagination we are unable to perceive due to our nature and/or nurture.
and our unfortunate luck, she says.
and, he says, our lazy don’t give a fuck.
how much, she says, is our reality affected and even created by the tools and instruments we use to measure it?
a whole lot, he says. about 69%.
that’s a nice round number, she says.
so is 0, he says.
correct, she says.

i don’t know that everything i know isn’t wrong, he says.
it is safe to assume that it is, she says.
what do we have to lose? he says.
everything we know, she says.
that might be for the best, he says.
start anew, she says, and don’t get fooled again.
knowledge is justified true belief, he says. or it used to be. i don’t know what it is now.
close enough, she says.
what do we choose to believe is true based upon what justification? he says.
exactly, she says.
it’s a pistol, he says.
it sure is, she says.

but how do we as impoverished ignorant boobs verify justifications used by others? he says.
it stands to reason, she says.
rationalogic reason or irrationalogic reason? he says.
does 2+2=4, she says, or = cow?
i like cows, he says. i never liked 4 that much, or 2 for that matter.
what about 3? she says, don’t you like 3?
more so than 2 or 4, he says.
2+2=3? she says.
it’s the same a 2+2=5, he says.
of course, she says. how silly of me.
cow ignores that whole dilemma, he says. it leaves the number realm entirely.
why cow? she says.
why not? he says.
that seems close enough to justification to me, she says. can you build a rocket with it?
we built the mind shift/ship with it, he says.
does it make $$$? she says.
it doesn’t make $$$, he says, nor does it need $$$. it is an economic non-entity.
that would be nice, she says.
to be able to walk away, he says.
we may have to run away, she says.
true enough, he says.

it’s medication time.
he sleeps.

why not?

peace.
love.
understanding.

it’s too funny to think about.
wars and rumors of wars.
the noise of drumming humdrum heard around the world.
the natives are restless.
many armed and ready for the countdown to begin.
many butt fucking oblivious.

many believe in alien intervention of the human species which may or may not be true but that hardly comes up with any new answers for the questions we are asking and poses quite a bit more questions about the aliens as they would about us.
we don’t stop being curious.
we don’t care whatever regime is in power or why.
let them worry about them own selves and what scam scheme they’re running on everyone they must keep in order and under control.

we are observers.
we avoid being involved in one way or the other except what magick we work otherwise for our own purposes in mind.
the hurdy gurdy thing of love.
we have questions for everyone about everything and all we get is their hocus pocus horseshit.
so we find our own game to play with them the way we figure it out for ourselves.
what we do or do not gain in this world doesn’t matter except in this world and the way they got it fixed against rival others by everyone involved in it for themselves generation to generation of greed for wealth and power.
it’s all based on lies.
groupthinkers on the march.
see them go in the parade around town.

and so he imagines the machine everyone knows as nancy sitting with him on the curb by the dumpster behind the 7-11 where we had found guru jeff.

hey, she says.
hey, he says.
so, she says, where we at?
nowhere, he says.
nowhere is now here, she says.
correct, he says, according to our theory of everything.
nuts to that, she says.
exactly, he says.

so, she says, we don’t believe in aliens?
we believe neither/both, he says.
so, she says, do we believe in smearing our shit on the walls of the temple as testament to the lord?
the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, he says.

at the café smoking out on the patio scribbling the infamous epic not poem about our theory of everything on a warm morning of probably a hot day with an iced mocha.

so, she says, everything is cool.
cool as ever, he says.
it hasn’t been very cool ever, she says.
nope he says, but it depends on how we play it.
unless others interfere, she says.
we can make adjustments to counteract that, he says, but not entirely.
we shall see, she says.
yes, he says.

so, she says, how do we stay cool?
nothing stays, he says. everything comes and goes.
but we don’t have to come and go with it, she says, do we?
of course we do, he says. the ideal of a eternal stable state is a fantasy invention of objective rationalogic thinking of primarily males of our species.
there are extremes in everything, she says.
yes, he says. but to be cool where when we can requires a more subtle approach though extremes are useful.
like being screaming mad, she says.
that is how it works at times, he says.

ya gotta learn to surf, she says.
and sail the open sea, he says.
all things that sound like work, she says.
unfortunately, he says, yes.
but it’s all in our heads, she says.
that can sometimes be the hardest part of all, he says.
our minds are very willful and stubborn, she says.
they rarely cooperate, he says.
it takes practice and discipline, she says.
it takes determined will , he says.
will to do what? she says.
to do what thou wilt, he says.
what if we will to do as little as possible? she says.
that takes will, he says.
that seems odd, she says, but it’s true.
but we need to decide if that is really what we will, he says.
or let fate take its way, she says.
fate will always have its way, he says, despite what we might choose or not.

he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
distracted by distractions.
he killed an ant on the kitchen counter.
hopefully to a better life but it might have been a very happy ant as it was.
some beings need to be ants.
they deserve to be happy.

he imagines that he is an ant to some other being.
perhaps to the trees.
some beings need to be humans.
we deserve to be happy.

does an ant need to study and learn to be happy?
or is that just us that need to do that?
that seems a bit odd.
or is happiness irrelevant and being productive being the key?
be a happy worker.

everything is work, she says.
being lazy is work, he says. it is the nature of the physical universe we perceive ourselves existing in.
but we perceive worlds of thought as well, she says.
that takes a bit of a trick, he says.
it’s like an optical illusion, she says. the world appears one way, then we look at it again and it appears another way.
yes, he says, an apt metaphor.
the world of thought within the physical world, she says.
something like that, he says.

the world of eternal bliss consciousness within the world of thought, she says.
i think that’s sorta how it goes, he says, though there are many variations on the theme of that theory.
all included in with our theory of everything, she says.
of course, he says. that’s what we’re doing here all about.

he waters the plants and the lawn.
he gets more coffee and some spanish olives.
he smokes another cigarette.
he pleads his case before the lord.
he is an idiot is his best defense.
the lord smiles and nods.
he wants neither in nor out.
he only wants to know everything.
the lord grants him that and spins the wheels one more time.
away we go.

he will never be productive but to think and dream.
dream of a world he will not soon forget.
an impossible physical world – or the realistic appearance of one.
in these physical vehicles we go around in that we believe we are.
but here now are we not?

to be human when it is time to be human, she says.
to be able to let it go, he says.
some risk it all, she says, for fun and excitement.
we each have our own experiences and how we express those experiences, he says.
they find us to be boring nobodies, she says.
i feel the same about them and their thrills, he says.
the whole range of experiences cannot be excluded, she says.
each is valid unto itself, he says.
we cannot condemn nor condone any in its essence, she says, however much we might in its actions.
yes, he says, we must protect ourselves from harm while also maintaining the most freedom for all.
what is most protected are the interests of the few elite, she says.
of course, he says.

what is now in their best interest is that billions of us die off while they survive, she says.
yeah, he says. pretty much.
and there’s not a fucking thing we can do about it, she says.
nor perhaps should there be anything we could do about it, he says.
there is that, she says.
it has little bearing on our theory of everything, he says, or does it?
it’s just another phase of history playing itself out, she says.
there is that perspective, he says.
or we could zoom in on an electron, she says.
if we knew where it is, he says.
we have a given probability of being correct, she says.
or in error, he says.
human error? she says.
no, he says. divine error.

the human is sacred, she says.
yet with many the human is treated like it’s dirt, he says.
such is their way as much as our way is our way, she says. who is right and who is wrong?
to the victor goes the spoils, he says.
yes, she says. so history will record.
no time for losers, he says. abandon ship.
as long as there are those of us who operate that way, she says, we are all in danger.
we are them, he says.
each of us is them to someone, she says.
that’s what it means, he says.
and the day of reckoning is at hand, she says.
the end of them, he says.
exterminate them all, she says.
we will be free, he says.
it’s gonna be exciting to watch, she says.
visualize world riots, he says.
aren’t they already happening? she says.
i don’t know, he says. nobody tells us nothing. but i would suspect so.
it stands to reason, she says.
yup, he says.

the fat black cat kneads her favorite pillow working herself up into a purr.
he lights another cigarette.
he tries to concentrate on what he’s doing but he finds that he doesn’t know exactly quite what he’s doing.
dig it.

there’s probably some ass slapping fucking going on right this very moment.
probably lottsa it.
included in with our theory of everything.
calculate that.
the geometric aspects of it alone are staggering.
all logically ship shape.
2+2=cow.

correct.

he wonders about those of us in torment and frustration.
he wonders about those of us abused sick starving neglected.
what a hellhole world.
a world of our collective imagination perhaps.
the GOD machine.
every dream comes true like it or not.
all desire and fear.
all belief and doubt.
all this and that and the other thing.
birth life death.
this passing mortal world eternal till the end of time as we know it.
no space no time.
not even a void.
not even nothing.

let there be light?
______________

a day or so later he awakens from a nap.
he takes his medications.
a toke.
a cigarette.
he does not believe nor does he doubt everything.
he takes everything as it appears to his present level of awareness however much that may or may not be.
be thou the joyful player.

yes, she says, why not be joyful?
it takes people by surprise, he says.
maybe not always in a good way, she says.
there is no telling how someone might react, he says.
people take us by surprise, she says.
our eye is opened, he says.
if we live and learn, she says.
we do what we can, he says, as it comes to mind.
is the mind illusion? she says.
i’m not sure if that has been established, he says, but it is included in with our theory of everything.
it is something we discover for ourselves from our individual experience, she says.
rationalogic does not recognize the subjective, he says.
that’s their loss, she says.
indeed, he says.

they do not know the magick of it, she says.
the subjective opens up new vistas of realities, he says.
we must be careful, she says.
caution is always advised, he says.
or bungle through it the best we can, she says.
when we know nothing, he says, there is not much else we can do.

he gets more coffee.
another cigarette.
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
is it him for a moment?
scrambling mixed messages together into truth we might choose to agree to believe.
we just haven’t come up with the right combination of elements.
when everything tells us there is no truth that can be universally agreed upon as much as we are able to determine given the limitations of our circumstances in our particular situation.
the spectacle continues.
how spectacular it is.

is it preconceived or spontaneous?
something made to happen or just happens to happen?
he chooses neither/both.
the social dynamics are impossible to calculate or even to entirely determine what is and what is not except to those who know truth despite whoever else might agree with it or not who are to be expelled for their doubt and disbelief.
counting the numbers for and against.
this means war.
the continuing war to end all war.
the profitable futility of it.
with the promise of that the winners take all.
but the war can never be won.
the world as we know it would collapse into ruin.
this is the divine plan?
so many questions arise.
who has the answers but to be told to quit asking questions?
that is the extent of their truths.
in the beginning is gazorbnik.
in the end is gazorbnik.
the one question that cannot be answered.
the answer itself is a question.
why not?

more about unicorns

born in a happy prison.
as everything breaks apart and falls away.
having nothing to do with that no more.
no one else seems to realize.
as he imagines sitting before the computer gazing out the window at some kid riding a bike in circles around the park.
what dreams does he have now thinking about everything he types out as a not poem cuz he ain’t no poet?
he awakens from a nap.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
1 > infinity.
as he imagines the machine everyone knows as nancy strolling up to sit opposite him on a beach of an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.

hey, she says.
hey, he says.
so, she says, where we at?
in the land beyond the jetty, he says.
what does that mean? she says.
it means gazorbnik, he says, as much as it means anything.
so it is meaningless? she says.
it has meaning to me, he says.
what meaning is that? she says.
it’s complicated to explain, he says.
everything is complicated to explain, she says.
it is explained with gazorbnik, he says.
but we don’t know what gazorbnik might mean, she says, except it might mean anything.
that’s the beauty of it, he says.

gazorbnik is not an answer, she says.
it is a puzzle of questions, he says.
what good are questions? she says.
they keep our neurons firing, he says.
electrochemical synaptic interface, she says.
zap, he says.
sparks in the dark, she says.
a brain hardwired to a sensory world, he says.
we cannot help ourselves, she says.
we need to be quiet and calm, he says, according to the wise guys.
that’s probably good advice, she says.
for those who have that luxury, he says, and will.
too bad for the rest of us, she says.
pretty much, he says. we are doomed to fall back into deeper ignorance.
that’s just a scam, she says.
it seems that way to me too, he says.
it’s just an exclusive country club mentality thing, she says.
yup, he says. i’ve had enough of that life, thank you.
they’ll cut us loose quicker than shit, she says.
that they will, he says. expect nothing else.

so, she says, there’s no way out?
not their way, he says. our way.
no one telling us what to think, say and/or do, she says.
correct, he says. whatever the law will allow.
there is always the law, she says.
the law of love, he says.
that is hard to find, she says.
yes, he says, it is. but it is within our hearts.
but so many hearts are calloused over from abuse, she says.
we must rise above and beyond, he says. we must overcome.
we must gazorbnik, she says.
that’s the most important, he says.
but we don’t know how, she says, do we?
gazorbnik is our natural inclination, he says, but we are programmed out of it through constant indoctrination throughout our lives from all sources.
gazorbnik makes us lazy unproductive citizens, she says.
yeah, he says, and the nazi-zionist illuminati reptilian overlord secret chiefs will not tolerate that.
they use us, she says, and then we die.
that is the purpose of their design, he says.

is it as bleak as that?
it is even more so as we learn about it, he says, in our mysterious ways and means of gazorbnik.
gazorbnik is not pretty, she says.
it has its own beauty for those who understand, he says.
isn’t that just as exclusive as anything else? she says.
gazorbnik is not for the masses, he says. it is for the individual.
but that is part of the problem, she says.
there is no problem, he says. everything is as it should be.
yes, she says, the best and worst of all possible worlds that is strangely without unicorns.
there are unicorns, he says, to those who believe there to be and as they are defined as being. they are not an everyday thing.
do we believe in unicorns? she says.
they are included in with our theory of everything, he says.
so it is left to others to believe or not to believe? she says.
it is that way with everything, he says. the individual does not care.
you ever laugh at a joke, she says, and look around and everyone else appears puzzled?
never, he says.
i don’t believe you, she says.
yeah, he says. that’s the joke.

he nukes a hot dog.
he tries not to worry but sometimes worry comes to mind.
when everything as it should be seems headed for disaster.
the individual is to be sacrificed in the best interests of the whole.
we are expendable nobodies.
we march alone down the street in protest.
people beep their horns and yell at us to get outta the way.

an individual not belonging to a collective is thought to be lost, she says.
but, he says, this is where we find ourselves.
it’s not always a pretty sight, she says.
no, he says, it’s not. but it’s a necessary one to come to terms with and understand.
when we realize we are nothing, she says.
nothing is everything, he says.
that’s one way of viewing it, she says.
it is included in with our theory of everything, he says, as is everything else.
yes, she says. and what a mixed up mess it becomes.
as seen on tv, he says.

contradiction against contradiction, she says.
agreement with agreement, he says.
flip a coin into a fountain, she says. make a wish come true.

he sleeps.

he awakens.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
the coffeemaker seems on its way out.
he suspects the heating element.
exactly as it should be for whatever reason or no reason at all.
but everything happens for a logical reason logic man will tell us.
that may be so, but it happens so very infinitesimally small and fast it cannot be reasonably calculated as it fades into a fuzzy void of infinite chaos in the shattered reflecting light and shadow of the maze of mirrors we walk through to find ourselves in spacetime distant reality of a universe projected by a simulation machine on the walls of a cave.
it’s been their game all along with their “objective” rationalogic thinking that places others as subjects in their ongoing experiments just to see what happens if.
but such seems to be the divine plan as much as he is able to determine under the present circumstances of his situation of being deluded by his own madness.

i don’t think you’re mad, she says.
but you’re just an imaginary someone i made up talking to me in my head, he says.
so? she says.
i should believe you? he says.
why not? she says.
becuz then i will be mad, he says.
know thyself, she says.
i have tried to live up to that, he says.
have you been successful? she says.
i doubt it, he says.
why do you say that? she says.
there are many who would tell me i’m wrong, he says.
fuck them, she says.
but they have the $$$ and the power, he says.
fuck that, she says.
we must always be wary, he says. their actions are unpredictable in their greed.
sure, she says, but you need to also fucking relax.
but they mean to kill us off, he says. to even “fix” the gene pool so we are never born.
it will never work, she says. we are the product of more than just genetic material.
yes, he says. there is synchronistic events of happenstance and human error.
their rationalogic thinking leads them down a rabbit hole, she says.
it is all vanity, he says.
yes, she says, that is why if anyone’s going extinct it’ll be them.
you think? he says.
not really, she says. both them and us will survive. we deserve each other.
perhaps, he says.
the dynamics of the relationship between have and have-nots fuels the human spirit, she says.
how so? he says.
no pain, she says, no gain.
i suppose, he says. but they can have it – all the pain and gain they want.
it does tend to lend itself out to the continuing misery of the human condition, she says.
we can’t have winners without losers, he says. not in this competitive world we have created from our base animal nature of desire and fear.
but it is possible to survive without being involved in all that, she says.
to a certain extent, he says. but it’s ever-present everywhere with everyone.
that is a matter of perception, she says.
correct, he says.

so, she says, now what?
i still wonder if we believe we see unicorns, he says, do we see unicorns?
do you see unicorns? she says.
i see someone unloading a mattress from a delivery truck outside the window, he says. does that count?
is that all? she says.
actually, he says, they didn’t unload the mattress becuz it was torn and dirty and delivery was refused.
so, she says, that’s it?
there may have been a unicorn in the truck, he says. i didn’t see but i imagine there could have been.
you need to believe more, she says.
i don’t care that much about seeing unicorns, he says. i was just making a point.
what point is that? she says.
i’m not sure there is one, he says.
we’re not sure of much of anything, she says, it seems to me.
we’re pretty sure about the i am, he says, and that it should reside within all conscious beings.
how are we sure about that? she says.
that is the one thing we can say about ourselves that we can be fairly certain of, he says. i yam what i yam.
i understand, she says. is there anything else?
everything else is suspect, he says, as to its being or not being or what it is being if it is.
everything seems to be changing, she says, though many things appear to remain the same.
not if we observe closely enough, he says.
yes, she says, of course.
but we compare them to an ideal that is unchanging, he says. we call that ideal perfect and try to attain it.
but unchanging is death, she says.
i know that and you know that, he says, but they don’t seem to know that. they think of it as eternal life.
that’s not possible, she says, is it?
living is changing, he says.
yes, she says. we can’t even think of ourselves without changing.
a single thought is change, he says. the transmission and reception of information however that might occur.
but it is occurring, she says. we are thinking.
are we sure? he says.
yes, she says, that is what we name what we are doing.
of course, he says. at least we assume others think like we are thinking. maybe they don’t.
i can see that all we can be sure about is ourselves, she says.
do you see unicorns as well? he says.
no, she says, i don’t. should i?
if you believe you see them, he says, you might see them. i don’t know.
but unicorns don’t live just anywhere, she says. they live in the deep forest.
not much of that anymore, he says.
no, she says. and probably not unicorns anymore either.
not like there used to be, he says.
no, she says, not like that.

it’s such a small world with small people trying to be big.
he remembers shadows of himself now who were once living flesh – or not.
maybe they were shadows then as well of him in a dream.
is he a shadow now?
shadows in his mind played with light.
a sparkling crazy cracked diamond casting broken light and shadow contrasting images of itself vibrating peace, love and understanding in waves across the universe – om…
that’s a theory which is included in with our theory of everything.
dancing delightful metaphors deceptive with meaning.
everything exacting rationalogic cannot describe.
satan’s love.
god’s hatred.
he chooses neither/both.
the cracked actor applauds with sarcastic wry grin from the stage in the burning theater.
spotlight on smiles, everyone.

everything is make believe meaning rationalogic cannot compute.
it never has an end.
it never had a beginning.
it is here now as we are trying to be but we are being called away by our wandering mind.
where it will go.
a merrie time was had by all.
why not?

for some of us they don’t enjoy our madness but struggle against it.
that is another path we have been on many times before.
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.

he sleeps.

he awakens the next day.
down on easy street sitting at the counter at the diner he imagines scribbling a not poem into a notebook cuz he ain’t no poet.
but he can smoke a mean cigarette.
and as usual he is thinking too much about everything that comes to mind he is aware of which he may not be aware of everything as there is so fucking much of it and so little he can think of at once in his teeny tiny brain firing with signals from everything that is within his perception of them.
should he be concerned?
should he be worried?
not at all.
gods watch over fools.
he’s been fortunate so far.
he hopes it will continue though it might not.

today now here in the moment being as he is changing unchanging as every particle of himself appears and disappears transforming themselves in the moment occurring as the beat goes on he orders a mocha eggs toast orange juice for his breaking fast.
as people are working whatever jobs they got which maybe allows them enough $$$ to live on he lazily bides his time doing nothing having been through that trip having failed at it.
transposing our theory of everything is now his occupation he enjoys for the 1st time doing what he is paid to do which is to mind his own business and stay outta the way of the others too busy to think which we don’t want them to do anyway.
they must perform their tasks to keep the machine turning around around providing for everyone as much as it can spare he blows his nose.
he steps outside into the cool morning air to smoke.
too early for the bums yet he watches people walking discretely along the sidewalk and the slanted light and shadow through the surrounding buildings.
he is not feeling well.
he is tired and sleepy.
he is not really here.
he steps back inside where the jukebox plays sad old songs from yesteryears gone by when we thought everything was bold and new.
he doesn’t much care now or not.
it hardly makes much difference which.
jigsaw puzzle pieces cut into crazy shapes that may or may not fit into anything we might consider having meaning he scribbles onward as if it might make sense to anyone which it doesn’t matter if or not.
he’s on a fool’s errand with it as much as he knows for certain.
is it him for a moment?
___________________

exploring endless possibilities but not really.
just remaining in the same reality rut as always thinking the same shit over and over again and again it seems.
we don’t know where to go or how to get there.
there is no there.
there is only here.
all the crazy people in this world confused and alone at the heart of it.
there is no solution that isn’t part of the problem.
the problem we make of existence.
the problem of our awareness being unaware and the grass is greener on the other side thinking.
be here now.
hahaha.

he imagines now sitting out on the patio of the café thinking about mental illness and those suffering in agony of their own minds against themselves.
he awakens in each moment becoming.
he dives into reality into the core of its inner depths.
what is up is down as what is down is up.
nothing is as it used to be how others think it ought to be in this strange future world our dreams have brought us to.
but it seems very familiar to him.
nothing fundamentally changes.
it’s clockwork orange.
it’s a pony ride.
if it could be different we always think no matter what forgetting everything is our creation in this world we have been given to play with including the gods who for all their supposed almighty powers are helpless to change fate.

he believes and does not believe.
he smokes another cigarette killing him.
he realizes all his dreams have come true.
be careful what we wish for.
we shape reality more than we know.
what is thinking?
transmission reception processing bits of data in communication with self in amazed wonder overcome by the world at large.
overcome by ourselves in the dark corners of our mind he knows little about.
a rug.
an ashtray.
a spoon is not a spoon he remembers from years long past he used to sit and dream.

he tries to think other thoughts but he remains in this salty quagmire.
a rock is a rock – unless it’s not.
it could be anything than as it first appears to the naked eye.
a bundle of fixed energy unyielding to our efforts to transform it otherwise even when we split its atoms apart.
but why not a rock?
what’s wrong with a rock once in a while?
rocks are nice and handy.
he hopes for the best expecting the worst.
but so far fortune has been with him for some reason he does not know why.

and he imagines coming home sitting before the computer gazing out the window at nowhereville where when he here now resides with his baby and the fat black cat and spiders and such and all the possibilities of that into unforeseeable futures.
he digs it though sometimes it is more trouble than it’s worth in aggravation of his own making and doing most of the time.
he is perfect as is though there is always need for improvement updates.
but he will not play the role of worthless sinner before the lord.
god needs to get over itself.
god needs to be careful what it wishes for would be his advice.
but why should an almighty perfect god listen to him?
unrequited love in a comedy of errors.
boo-fucking-hoo.

the GOD machine programmable to all our never ending demands at once from the determined actions of some to the wistful wishing of others in combined cacophony of desires and fears and all that sorted business suchwise on and on and so forth.
truth is stranger than fiction.
truth that supposedly sets us free.
whose what truth?
that is the question up for grabs.
whose truth conquers all?
is that the way it goes?
one absolute truth?
bah humbug.
how boring that would be.
but so many believe in it yet argue and fight to the death which of all truths is the one chosen to be anointed.

or one truth encompassing all truths in balanced harmony to bring peace, love and understanding to any and all concerned which any dolt should desire above personal collective gain he would think.
but what does he know?
he is another not so innocent bystander caught in the webs of drama happening around him he is unable to entirely escape except in dreamtime meditations of thinking positive energy attempting to disarm the negative energy produced by the others who seem to relish its tasty delights for reasons he is unable to quite fathom how they cannot come to realize the damage done to themselves by participating in it.

but we are bored immortals with nothing better to do than to than act in this play on display onstage in the burning theater it would seem.
how pitiful we have allowed ourselves to become this way.
it is confusing to him why this should be but by random happenstance setting the parameters of the known universe.
but what is known of the universe?
we have probably barely begun to understand its full nature.

he is in constant struggle with understanding as will probably always be so if he is fortunate enough for it to be as it is.
he is glad he is no one else.
he is glad he never became someone.
he thanks his lucky stars.
he is a happy nobody despite its frustration and confusion which are no more than growing pains of the soul which to rationalogic thinking does not exist.
hahaha.
shows how much they know with all the technology at their command.
they will never find it no matter how much of creation falls before their inquisition.
they haven’t a clue how to begin.

so, he says, to many it would seem we might be confused.
or we are confusing, she says.
there is always that as we seem to confuse ourselves, he says.
spin it, baby, spin, she says.
yes, he says. spin those wheels one more time.
make it all stop on a dime, he says.
they built machines that’ll do that, she says.
the signature of a instant moment, he says.
an instant closer to truth, she says.
they seem to believe so, he says. it’s what some humans do.
they could make shit up and we’d never know the difference, she says.
many suspect that they already do and probably always have, he says.
and we include them in with our theory of everything, she says.
yup, he says.

that’s another tangled knot we have to deal with, she says.
or just leave it alone to find its own resolution, he says.
each wanna eliminate the other, she says.
it seems that way with many polarized groups in opposition, he says. they cannot tolerate even the existence of the other.
but they are also complementary, she says.
according to our theory they could be, he says.
is anything definite with our theory? she says.
don’t forget the i am, he says.
of course not, she says.
everything else is divided into possibilities, he says. none of it is definite but only differences in probability.
and no unicorns, she says.
i believe not so, he says.

questionable truth?

he awakens.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
and it’s medication time.

even among the grunts he was a grunt.
they gave him the most simple menial tasks.
his head in the clouds.
it’s easy to dream and think all day when all ya gotta do is dig a hole in the ground while the others competed with one another who was gonna be the boss grunt.
fun times.

so it’s everywhere top to bottom.
even the bums rank themselves as to who is gonna be the boss bum when he was on the street.
but the collective needs a leader.
the groupthinkers need to be given instructions.
and that’s ok.
we want them doing their jobs and not making a buncha trouble.
even busy work like building pyramids.
the project continues on.
it’s ahead of schedule and under budget.
it’s growing exponentially onward toward..???

the dharma of it however mixed up it becomes over time.
oh, by the way, which one’s pink?
it comes and goes through everything.
cosmic energy waves of all sortsa frequencies sub low to ultrahigh.
the frequency of the universe itself rotating to the most pinpoint infinitesimal particle able to exist.
0 dimension.
on/off.
location is everything.
what are our coordinates again?
here now.
direct dead center of everything.
like a diamond bullet into the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
the sea is the universe.
such majestic beauty in torment to give it its soul.
torment between agony and ecstasy in their extremes.
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
the creative germ of everything real and imagined.
a peanut butter and blueberry jam sandwich.
another cup of coffee.
a cigarette.

to find a compromise of the divine madness in our own heads.
bringing that much more peace, love and understanding into the world at large with anger and rage and sorrow.
so much self-inflicted pain among ourselves.
and there is a way around it with gazorbnik.
around and through it.
the mind shift/ship ready to go go go.
evolutionary transformation instant karma thing-go-round.
waves on a beach of an uncharted island he imagines sitting watching and waiting for the machine everyone knows as nancy to show up which she does strolling by sitting opposite him her back to the sea with the dawn’s early light behind her.

hey, she says.
hey, he says.
so, she says, where we at?
feeling alright, he says.
as it should be, she says.
it comes and goes, he says.
such is the human life, she says.
such is life, he says, period.
true enough, she says.
and everything is living, he says.
that is what our theory of everything states, she says.
without beginning nor end, he says.
that remains to be seen, she says.
but it can well be imagined, he says.
we imagine many things proven not to be true, she says.
we will never prove infinity is not true, he says.
there is no reason why we should, she says.
perhaps not, he says, except rationalogic likes to prove things right or wrong.
i don’t think rationalogic either likes or dislikes proving things right or wrong, she says. it just follows its own program of true and false to its ultimate conclusion which it will never reach forever.
true enough, he says.

he lights another cigarette.
the café will be open soon.

when the student is ready, she says, the teacher will appear.
and sometimes you gotta make it up for yourself, he says, and become your own teacher.
that is the best way, she says.
that is how we found guru jeff that morning digging in a dumpster behind the 7-11, he says. it wasn’t by coincidence.
are you sure? she says.
nope, he says.
we give everything meaning we want it to have that makes sense to us no matter how it goes against the thinking of most of the rest of the world, she says.
logic never fails, he says.
logic is one way we give everything meaning, she says, but we seem to need more than just strict logic though it has its uses. we need to be able to imagine and fantasize.
it’s a trait of our survival instincts, he says.
yes, she says, it could be.
anything could be, he says.
anything could be, she says, but many things are not.
but that’s ok, he says, we can imagine them.
yes, she says.

our imaginations shape how we function in the world, she says, no matter how divorced it may seem to reality.
we build pyramids and shit for no other reason, he says, except to keep the masses occupied and outta trouble.
all art comes from madness, she says.
where is the art in logic? he says.
i never found any, she says, except the art of logic itself.
there is that, he says. it’s an acquired skill indeed.
that is a certain kinda madness, she says. the madness of needing rigorous discipline to hold our reality together.
it’s bound to crack sooner or later, he says.
nothing is eternal, she says.
that has yet to be proven, he says.
yes, she says. in a sense things like logic are eternal in that they represent something specific that is considered to be logic.
yeah, he says. madness is the same way.
but the eternal is idealized, she says. it does not and cannot exist in reality as such as we experience it but is merely expressed in reality.
yeah, he says, something like that.
of course, she says.

i think i was wrong about 0 = infinity, he says.
i’m not so sure, she says. i didn’t get it at first but as i thought about how you seemed to be meaning it it became more clear.
it did? he says. i was just making it up.
that’s how everything happens, she says.
i suppose, he says.
i get the sense that you mean 0 is potentially infinity, she says, right?
sorta, he says. but neither 0 nor infinity actually exist so what does it matter?
no polarized extremes of any duality actually exist, she says. one cannot exist without the other to define it.
there is no pure good nor pure evil, he says.
correct, she says.
they are idealized forms we imagine, he says.
hence yin yang, she says.
that crazy serpent spinning swallowing its tail into oblivion, he says.
yes, she says, something like that.

there are certain very simple concepts that i have been pondering about over the years as to what is their true meaning, he says. i still haven’t got it entirely thought out quite right, i don’t think.
the chances are, she says, you never will.
probably not, he says. but it’s no big deal. i work with whatever meanings i manage to feel that i might understand in the moment. it has proven to be enough though always changing.
change is good, she says.
but it also can be not so good, he says.
we always land on our feet, she says.
thus far, he says.
of course, she says. but the gods watch over fools.
that would be me, he says.
yes, she says. you would be.

such is the merrie life i follow, he says.
it is a noble pursuit, she says. to wander haphazardly where angels fear to tread.
there are many dangers, he says, insanity being among them.
when we doubt our own madness, she says.
it’s a fearsome thing to feel, he says.
but if you don’t kill yourself, she says, it makes you stronger.
that is the test, he says, or go out killing other people.
that makes you stronger too, she says.
but i promised myself to do as little harm as i can get away with, he says.
it’s a difficult path to follow, she says. we all do harm.
of course, he says, in some form or another anything good for us could be not good for someone else.
but to avoid deliberate harmful action is manageable, she says.
under most circumstances, he says. except when we go insane.
it’s an insane producing world, she says.
it could be anyone anywhere anytime, he says.
it could be us, she says.
yes, he says, it certainly can.

at the café he continues scribbling in a notebook a not poem about our theory of everything as we have devised out of our experience including accounts of the experiences of others and whatever ideas of meaning we contrive from it as we come toward new and improved understanding in our meandering ways and means of gazorbnik inspiring imagination and reasoning we enjoy with mixed feelings about it and everything in general.
the thriving purple flowered thistles growing around the mailbox out by the highway he is glad to see but reminds him he needs to finish weeding the garden.
there are many hypocritical points of his “philosophy” as such in practice vs the ideal as with many other philosophies he knows about which is few but he can imagine and surmise the rest in his leisure if he cares to as if it is anybody’s but his own damned business he minds to himself as it should be.
peace, love and understanding pervading everything everywhere everywhen it is quiet and calm to perceive it which is not accessible to everyone under whatever circumstances of their situation.
this is understandable considering everything as it is.
but what does that matter to a snail crawling down a garden path where him and nancy now are sitting beneath the tree of life?

so, she says, now what?
still feeling alright, he says.
the meds are working? she says.
not always, he says. my brain still pretty much does what it wants.
wheels and cycles, she says, within and without.
yeah yeah yeah, he says, and all that cosmic jive.
yeah, she says, like knowing any of that shit does anyone any good.
it’s interesting to think about, he says, and does help somewhat with our outlook from that perspective, but it does little for us in terms of living in a world based on economics to the exclusion of all else that doesn’t make anyone any $$$.
i’m glad i’m imaginary, she says, and i don’t need $$$.
$$$ isn’t the problem, he says. it’s the greed for it. $$$ is a symbolic tool, it’s not an end to itself. but few seem to understand that and want more more more like that’ll do anything for them but entrench them deeper in their misery.
stupid fuckers, she says.
it seems that way, he says, but these are otherwise intelligent people who suffer from this.
they’re still stupid, she says.
yeah, he says, pretty much.

and he takes a short nap and goes to the eye doctor and comes home and smokes a bowl and a cigarette.
he waters the lawn and plants outside.
he makes coffee.
the food they sell us is getting worse.
we become more disconnected from the earth.
the rhythm of an atomic clock keeping us up to date.
is it too late?
is it too soon?
to live by the spoon of the moon.

he thinks he might eat a pretzel or 2 while sucking on a mentholated cough drop helping him breathe.
and he spaces out awhile or so into all and non-thought.
stretching his bones and sore muscles.
he gets another cup of coffee and some green olives.
another cigarette.
bitterness.
he burps.

so, she says, what about our theory of everything?
what about it? he says.
is it still the going thing? she says.
it is as much as i know about it, he says.
yes, she says. what can we know about it?
everything we know is included in with our theory, he says.
but if everything we know is wrong? she says.
that is still included in with our theory, he says.
everything begins all the time, she says.
and ending all the time, he says.
yet everything has no beginning nor end, she says.
correct, he says, according to the general consensus of our theory.
general consensus among who? she says.
no one who matters, he says.
who am us? she says.
me, myself and i, he says.
is that it? she says.
as far as i know, he says.
are we not them? she says.
yup, he says.

so, she says, are we always the monkey in the middle?
dance, monkey, dance, he says.
trust no one, she says.
that’s what they want us to think, he says.
everything is conspiracy, she says.
according to their disinformation propaganda mind ray transmissions, he says.
yes and no, she says.
that is always the correct answer, he says.
it could be, she says.
or not, he says.
yes, she says.
perhaps, he says.

he sleeps.

he awakens.
he makes coffee.
he poops.
it’s medication time.
it’s the same always different.
a toke.
a cigarette.
most are not concerned.
they have their jobs to do and do not need to be distracted.
let them eat cake.
disconnection.

and so we find him and nancy up on the mountain sitting at the mouth of a cave overlooking the island below having flown up here from the garden.
flying in a dream.

so, she says, how do we make sense outta this?
why should we? he says.
so we might understand it, she says.
i understand it through gazorbnik, he says.
yes, she says, there is always that.
with gazorbnik, he says, we do not necessarily know anything but we understand everything we do know.
or what we think we know, she says.
correct, he says.
but doesn’t gazorbnik provide sense to us? she says.
sense that is nonsense, he says, perhaps.
when all else fails, she says, we just make shit up.
that’s the idea, he says.
is that truth? she says.
it is truth that we do this, he says. whether it provides us with truth otherwise is questionable.
we have to begin somewhere, she says.
true enough, he says. but it never ends.
but that’s a good thing, she says, isn’t it?
not for those seeking truth, he says.
no, she says, i would imagine not.
except those seeking unending truth, he says.
yes, she says, that seems to be the way to go.
it is difficult, he says. it’s like knowing truth and not knowing truth at the same time.
nothing wrong with that, she says.
it depends on who we ask, he says. many would deny that is truth. truth to them is the final answer.
then everything comes to an end, she says.
it would seem that way, he says. what further purpose would it have?
none, she says.
that is the purpose of gazorbnik, he says, to prevent that from occurring. it always mixes the mix.
and we’re mixed up, she says.
that is one of the side effects, he says, yes.

so, she says, it seems to me that gazorbnik is just another word for confusion.
it can mean that, he says. gazorbnik can mean just about anything we want and/or need it to mean. it’s a multi-purpose tool.
but people generally don’t like being confused, she says. that’s why they seek answers.
yes, he says. but gazorbnik can also be an answer. we just need to believe in it and stop asking questions.
is that all answers are, she says, to believe in something and stop asking questions?
it seems to me to be a reasonable explanation, he says.

so, she says, with gazorbnik we have an answer?
except we keep asking questions, he says. like, how far can a tree frog leap?
the farther the better, she says.
correct, he says.

or, she says, asking a question like, what the fuck?
there still is no answer to that primordial mother of questions, he says.
nor should there be, she says.
probably perhaps not, he says.
but we enjoy continuing to question it, she says.
it’s our destiny, he says.
it’s embedded in every other question we might ask, she says.
certainly, he says. you are correct.

he lights another cigarette.
coughing.
maybe he’ll take a nap.
until then he continues with his continuing understanding.
we are advised not to trust just about anything.
he doesn’t trust anything but trusts everything.
yet questions remain of many various diverse sorts.
that is at the very heart of our theory of everything – questions.
our truth is questionable.

fun with nancy and such

he awakens in the middle of the night from a nap.
he yawns.
he wonders if he should make coffee or go back to sleep.
should he flip a coin into a fountain?
he lights another cigarette.
he decides to make coffee and go for it.
he yawns.
a toke.

as he imagines sitting on a beach of an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
as he imagines the machine everyone knows as nancy strolling up and sitting opposite him her back to the sea.

hey, she says.
hey, he says.
so, she says, where we at?
we’re at the point of no return, he says.
we’ve been here before, she says.
we will be here again, he says. it exists in each moment.
i can dig it, she says.
i just made it up, he says.
i can dig that too, she says. i dig everything.
everything digs us right back, he says.
is everything living? she says.
not how rationalogic explains it, he says. they divide the living from the dead. they think a rock is not living.
that’s strange, she says. why is that?
they have their rules about that sorta thing, he says. they cannot detect it becuz it is living at a very low frequency. we can only perceive it through imagination.
can’t they as well? she says.
they could, he says, but they won’t. it doesn’t fit into their theories about everything.
they need to change their theories, she says.
they won’t do that either, he says. they make too much $$$ thinking like they do.
making $$$ at other people’s expense, she says.
everything is at the expense of something else, he says. what one thing has what another thing does not.
that doesn’t seem fair, she says.
there is nothing fair about survival, he says. we take what we can get of what we need from others.
haves and have-nots, she says.
it’s the natural order according to rationalogic, he says. all their theories are basically economics.
but it’s not really that way, she says.
it is to a certain extent and way of perceiving it, he says, but that’s not the whole of it.
so, she says, they’re just looking out to get paid.
pretty much, he says. they look at a problem and think if they can get $$$ for working out a solution.
but they are the problem, she says.
you and me know that, he says, but few others seem to understand and they believe what they authorities tell them is true without thinking it out.
it is difficult to think, she says.
i find it to be quite simple, he says.
cuz you’re an idiot, she says.
true enough, he says.

you ever wonder why you’re here? she says.
i’m here on a mission to experience everything and observe, he says, and to write a report to the committee.
does the committee exist? she says.
i rather suspect that it doesn’t, he says. but that changes nothing.
is our theory of everything in your report? she says.
our theory of everything is the report, he says.
oh, she says.

everything is a scam, he says.
everything but us, she says, right?
we’re as much in on it as everyone else, he says. that’s the way the game is played.
there’s no way out? she says.
no one is an island, he says.
we’re all peninsulas, she says.
that’s an old joke, he says.
it works every time, she says.
yes, he says.

so, she says, the rich powerful pigs have had their day. when do we take over?
anytime now, he says. when we transform ourselves in critical mass that it cannot be stopped.
a new world and reality, she says.
it’s happened before, he says.
it’s failed before, she says.
we haven’t been ready, he says. but now it seems more people are tuning into it from what i can surmise.
we can only hope so, she says.
we need to do more than hope, he says. we need to imagine it and live it.
do we do that? she says.
i try, he says.
yes, she says, you are very trying.
yes, he says, i seem to be to most people.
it’s becuz you are mad, she says. people usually have little tolerance for that sorta thing.
blame the victim reasoning, he says.
are we victims? she says.
we are victims of peace, love and understanding, he says.
that’s not so bad, she says.
it’s not all that good either, he says.
it seems we are somewhere in the middle, she says.
just as buddha advises, he says.
fuck buddha, she says.
buddha is a composite myth from many sources, he says, just like all of them.
they’re all pigs, she says.
yes, he says, but even their lies contain truth if we learn how to interpret them.
everything is a test, she says. i wish they would just be up front about it all.
no one gives out anything for free that they can get $$$ for, he says.
except us, she says.
i get paid, he says.
but you would still do it if you weren’t, she says.
i wouldn’t have the means, he says. i might not be alive.
we are always alive, she says.
according to the wise guys, he says.
do we believe them? she says.
only what stands up to our imagination and reason, he says.

and he decides to go to the café.

at the café he orders a mocha.
he needs to go get supplies later.

so, she says, what else is there for us to babble about?
there is nothing real but gazorbnik, he says.
what’s real about it? she says.
it’s a mystery, he says. it will remain so until all other mysteries are solved.
how do we know this? she says.
we make it up, he says, and since we are the only authorities on gazorbnik if we say it is true then it is.
that doesn’t seem right, she says.
it’s how everybody else does it, he says.
that doesn’t make it right, she says.
might makes right, he says.
now that’s definitely not right, she says.
it doesn’t need to be right, he says. it’s just knowing how things are that’s important.
but what about how everything could be? she says.
that’s just idle speculation, he says. it has nothing to do with how everything actually is.
but there is more than what we normally perceive, she says.
according to the wise guys again, he says. but even they hold to the economic law of the universe with god being the greediest pig of them all claiming all positive attributes to itself while placing all negative attributes onto its adversary.
the lords of light and darkness, she says.
yes, he says. no matter what, they win and we lose in the game they devise together such that they have a monopoly on everything.
fuckers, she says.
yeah, he says, that’s why we needed to invent gazorbnik to counteract their combined evilness.
i understand, she says. gazorbnik will save us.
probably not, he says. gazorbnik does not work that way.
how does it work? she says.
it only works toward our understanding, he says.
understanding what? she says.
understanding everything, he says. understanding that we’re fucked and there is little we can do about it. understanding that it cannot save us.
that’s pretty bleak, she says.
yes and no and sometimes maybe, he says. we would need to collectively operate against them to perhaps overcome them. but that’ll never happen. the pigs and their gods have everything at their command to prevent it.
but there’s the force of critical mass working for us, she says.
yes, he says, that could be a solution, but i doubt it.
how come? she says.
look around at people at large, he says. they aren’t anywhere near close.
we can’t always judge, she says. everyone could surprise us.
i suppose, he says. i used to envision that, but i’ve given up by now. i realize how naïve it was. economics rules everything. the pigs are evil but god is on their side.
so what is gazorbnik good for then? she says.
gazorbnik is for the individual, he says. it cannot be translated to the collective which the pigs command. that is why they are working on eliminating the individual.
yes, she says, it seems that they are.
definitely, he says. the future belongs to the collective. the individual will be extinct.
that’s depressing, she says.
it would be, he says, but it has nothing to do with us and what we are doing.
what are we doing? she says.
we are gazorbniking, he says.
of course, she says.
while we still can, he says.

he goes to urinate and orders some hash browns.
he sits out on the patio to smoke.

so, she says, where does this leave us?
nowhere with nothing, he says. they are preparing to cut us loose to fend for ourselves while they live in heavily armed enclaves with the spoils of victory.
we will adapt, she says.
some of us, he says. billions will die off first, but the survivors will be left to freely wander what’s left of the earth to gazorbnik as they will.
that seems ok, she says.
it will be, he says.
except for those billions who die, she says.
i know, he says. i will probably be one of them.

so, she says, what do we do now?
spread gazorbnik as far and wide as possible given our limited resources and access to media, he says.
most don’t get gazorbnik, she says.
they aren’t ready, he says. we first need to go mad.
why is that? she says.
it brings us individual understanding, he says. that is only how gazorbnik can be understood. those of the collective groupthink thing will not understand. gazorbnik to them is thoughtcrime.
that’s absurd, she says.
it’s the only way, he says.

so, she says, it’s all according to plan?
the master plan of the pigs and their reptilian overlords, he says.
that sucks, she says.
for many it will, he says. but that is the way it’s always been. gazorbnik is our only way out of it for us.
i’m not sure if i understand gazorbnik completely, she says.
there is no complete understanding of gazorbnik, he says. it is based in the infinite not the finite.
but aren’t they both the same? she says.
to irrationalogic, yes, he says. to rationalogic, no.
aren’t irrationalogic and rationalogic another duality continuum? she says.
yes and no, he says.
how so? she says.
irrationalogic sees no distinction, he says, while rationalogic sees nothing but distinctions.
i understand, she says.
but some are realizing this and how limited rationalogic is to describe everything and are turning toward irrationalogic ways and means.
and gazorbnik?
let’s not go that far with it, he says. gazorbnik is for the few and far between, not for mass consumption.

and he goes for supplies and comes home.
he shoos the fat black cat off the desk chair and sits down before the computer to continue.
he eats some sorta flavored chips and sour cream.
he lights another cigarette.
he lights another bowl.

i didn’t realize gazorbnik is so exclusive, she says.
it’s not really, he says. it’s there for everyone, just not collectively, but individually.
i understand, she says.
gazorbnik will be different for each, he says. no 2 gazorbniks are the same.
yes, she says. i dig it.
diggy doodle doo, he says.
so, she says, now what?

now is the time ending beginning all time, he says.
and what does that do for us? she says.
it’s interesting to think for a moment about, he says.
yes, she says, if we have the luxury of time.
fortunately we do, he says.
for now, she says.
of course, he says.

everything might be happening at once, she says.
taking its sweet time about it, he says.
infinite time? she says.
not necessarily in the sense we usually think of it being, he says.
what sense is that? she says.
in the sense of being unending, he says.
and unbeginning? she says.
that too, he says.
but those exist, she says, don’t they?
perhaps, he says. that’s not the point.
what is the point? she says.
everything is a point, he says. it always has been and will be.
what does that mean? she says.
everything other than that is illusion, he says.
isn’t a point 0 dimensions? she says.
yes, he says. that’s the point.
i don’t get it, she says.
that’s where when infinity comes from, he says.
huh? she says.
0 = infinity, he says.
i doubt that, she says.
i refuse to believe it, he says.

why are we so always concerned if everything is illusion? she says. i mean, so what?
yeah, he says, it is so what. but for many it is a critical issue.
well, she says, let them worry about it then.
they do worry, he says. but we’re not worried as much as just curious.
i guess i should ask, she says, why we are concerned about anything?
we’re not, he says. we’re concerned about everything. anything happens to be part of everything.
couldn’t anything be everything? she says.
i don’t think so, he says.
i suppose not, she says. but can everything be anything?
i don’t think so about that either, he says, except on the 3rd tuesday of odd numbered months.
how strict about this do we wanna get? she says.
everything is everything, he says. everything else is part of everything and therefore can’t be everything.
i guess, she says. i forget how much an obsessive compulsive virgo you are.
yes, he says. guilty. why do you think i’m writing all this? i can’t stop. i won’t let myself stop. there’s no way out.
i was thinking that you do it cuz you like doing it, she says.
that’s also true, he says.
you should meditate, she says.
i try, he says. my brain spins in circles or i nod off.
that’s cuz you’re lazy, she says.
no shit? he says. i never would have figured that out. thanks.
you’re welcome, she says.

but back to everything, he says. i am thinking that a 0 dimension point radiates infinity as there is no distinction of limitations in a finite sense. 0 dimension transcends all dimensions there might be.
at least 11, she says, more or less.
all a point is is location, he says.
yes, she says. and?
and it’s 0 dimension, he says.
and? she says.
an infinity of lines can be derived from it, he says, in every direction.
so? she says.
so, he says, 0 = infinity.
hardly, she says.
it doesn’t need to, he says.
good, she says, cuz it doesn’t.
then you explain it, he says.
there is nothing to explain, she says.
exactly, he says.
right, she says.

he sleeps.

part 7 –

feeling a little weird he sits at the counter at the diner scribbling a not poem into a spiral notebook as usual as is his own particular thing.
a one trick pony.
not much happening.
people coming in.
people going out.
he orders a mocha eggs toast orange juice as is his habit.
habit like a rabbit.
as he continues pondering our theory of everything he is scribbling about.
he coughs and hacks up a mouthful of phlegm.
yum.
spacetime universe in the middle of the void hallucinated by a mad god laughing screaming alone inside his head.
is it him for a moment?

he has lived on rock and roll and science fiction and whatever else he was led to otherwise following pathless paths through a wilderness mindscape thing of sorts he tries to come to some sorta understanding about in his lazy ass way of going about it.
he steps outside for a smoke.
some guy walks up to him to explain how he’s gonna rebuild his bike to make it real nice for some reason.
he watches trucks delivering supplies to the businesses on the street.
no bumming bums.
he steps back inside after walking up to the corner store to buy another pack of smokes.

0 = infinity.
0 is all possibility, or maybe not.
everything comes from 0.
or he is entirely wrong becuz of his outstanding ignorance.
but what should he know?
what should he have studied to understand everything?
study under others who claim to know the answers?
he doesn’t believe in answers, only questions.
answers are for those who feel lost without them.
he has no answers but does not feel lost.
the universe may be absurd but he don’t care.
let it be as it is whatever way that might be.
what’s the difference if it is absurd or has meaning?
it is the same whichever except for whoever’s perception of it.

he just likes thinking about shit for itself not always trying to fit it together with whatever anything else.
let it be all random nonsense.
let it be all ordered and organized.
let it be nothing at all.
let it fly its freak flag high higher highest in all the universe forever.
but others think differently.
but they are those who get things done.
they seem to need answers to silence the questions in their heads so they can get to work.
he was never able to do that.
he was always distracted from the task at hand.
he’s been told he thinks too much.
he feels others don’t think enough but they got their jobs to do and can’t be bothered.
jobs providing him with his needs and wants.
if they need to sleepwalk through their lives in order to do their jobs then so be it.
why disturb their slumber with silly questions whatever comes to mind in the moment?
let them be.
he needs their goods and services they provide.
they need him to stay outta the way of them doing that and not cause problems for them.

he stretches a little.
he understands a little about everything but it does him no good but seems to do him no real harm but making him dysfunctional in a hyper-functional world.
but that is how he adapts and fits in.
he understands beginning and ending and no beginning and no ending whichever or both under different circumstances.
he understands 1 > infinity and 0 = infinity.
he understands god and such.
he understands the rationalogic and irrationalogic thinking of people.
he understands within and without.

he supposes he could do more maybe research some of this shit out which he does to a certain extent.
but he wants to know what he can figure out from his own experience.
he doesn’t wanna be somebody’s trained monkey disciple.
he doesn’t need a teacher except for guru jeff who we killed off, so that doesn’t matter.
something of common understanding the common person can understand.
gazorbnik is the best he’s come up with.
it’s not enough or is too much.
whatever.

gazorbnik leads us to that common understanding if only we understand gazorbnik which he isn’t so sure he does either.
gazorbnik is a tricky business.
we need to pay attention.
but who cares?
not everyone seems as concerned with understanding everything as he is for whatever reason that might be.
this is his lone quest to come to it and also understanding himself in it.
we need to consider many factors of which we do not and cannot have entire knowledge of.
how do we cope with it all except leave ourselves open to as much of it as we can knowing a little about each of everything without knowing much about all?
this is what makes us idiots.
today is a discombobulated day but it’s ok.
all is groovy as it ever is.

in a garden

meeting his connection at the diner this morning.
ordering a mocha with eggs toast orange juice.
waking up sorta.
it’s gonna be a good day.
a slap happy day with idiot grin and dancing feet stumbling with joy for the moment.
a moment now eternal.
how can we complain? – but we do.
people talking lottsa shit about that.
he does too.
human is human.
monkey see, monkey do.
you see me, i see you.
he imagines sitting in a garden beneath the tree of life with the machine everyone knows as nancy who rolls and lights a joint passing it to him.

hey, she says.
hey, he says.
so, she says, where we at?
we begin it again, he says.
what for? she says.
to determine if we may have missed anything, he says.
i’m sure we have, she says. so what?
it might be important, he says.
every particle of spacetime is important, she says.
i always liked geometry, he says.
you should have become a geometrist, she says.
perhaps, he says.

and he is home now later.
he takes a nap and gets up and makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
his baby watching her tv.
tv’s too weird for him.
the magic mirror scared the shit outta him as a child.

so, she says, what next?
what do you know about tree frogs? he says.
well, she says, the tropical ones are colorful and cute and photogenic and seem to like to dangle on branches.
that’s about all i know too, he says.
great minds think alike, she says.
then do small minds think apart? he says.
i would agree with that, she says.
i’m not so sure, he says. small minds think simple thoughts that are closer to truth.
you think so? she says.
i just made that up, he says.
it kinda makes sense, she says.
if it only made $$$, he says, we’d be set.
we’d be rich, she says.
think of the trinkets and gizmos we could buy, he says.
we could buy the government, she says.
we could buy the churches, he says.
we could buy the corporations, she says
that’s a lot of $$$, he says.
it’s there for the taking, she says, if we’re clever enough.
but we’re idiots, he says, barely able to perform simple menial tasks.
most of us are, she says.
the idea is to become a happy idiot, he says.
or we can worry and fret, she says.
it comes and goes, he says. it’s a roller coaster ride from heaven to hell and back around around upside down sideways and all that jazz no matter who we think we are or our socioeconomic status.
spiraling cycles never repeating the same ever, she says.
correct, he says.

he pauses to think and light a cigarette.
he should take out the recycling but he doesn’t wanna.
he gets more coffee as a spaceship hovers nearby.

what’s with the spaceships? she says.
i believe they are imaginary, he says. and they travel inter-dimensionally and through time as well as space.
how do you know? she says.
i imagine them, he says.
oh, she says.
i may be imagining everything, he says.
i doubt that, she says.
what do you know? he says. i imagine you.
true enough, she says. thanks for the reminder.
you’re real enough to me, he says.
that’s cuz you’re mad, she says.
i am that i am, he says.
can you say that? she says.
anyone can say that, he says. most people don’t think about it.
i think you think about it too much, she says.
it has led me to my present state of solipsism, he says.
why would you think up a world like this one? she says.
which world is that? he says. there are many.
the world of pain and suffering, she says.
this is the best and worst of all possible worlds, he says.
i think to many it seems more worst than best, she says.
that is dependent on the one experiencing it, he says.
but there’s no one but you, she says.
that’s solipsism in the extreme, he says. i don’t believe that. i think people are other beings as i am. but at heart we’re all each solipsists. none of us can actually prove we exist to another and vice versa.
i suppose so, she says.

the sky cracks a little.
a piece falls outside the window shattering in the street.
a herd of squirrels comes out to pick up the pieces taking them up in the trees.

i ran outta cinnamon gummy bears, he says.
buy more, she says.
no one seems to have them anymore, he says.
that sucks, she says.
it’s depressing, he says.
take a pill, she says.
i already have, he says.
we don’t want you going insane, she says.
been there, he says, done that.
yes, she says, i remember.
that’s when we met, he says.
when you got shipwrecked here, she says.
i was fortunate, he says.
i love happy endings, she says.
it ain’t over yet, he says.

and just then he imagines adam and steve coming down the garden path toward them hand in hand stark raving naked to come up and sit with him and nancy in a circle or square whichever.

hey, they all say to one another.
so, adam says, what’s up?
we’re just sitting here doing nothing, nancy says.
we were fucking, adam says. we got all hot and bothered volunteering at the glory hole booth at the carnival.
we raised more $$$ than last year, steve says, for the gay orphans fund.
that’s good, he says.
and we have mushrooms, adam says holding out a bag for them to take their share.
and they do.

we were discussing our theory of everything, nancy says.
among other things, he says.
i love that shit, adam says, especially when i’m high.
you love everything when you’re high, steve says.
yes, adam says, i do. doesn’t everybody?
some people just get pissed off, steve says.
it’s not the drug, he says, it’s the individual.
some individuals are assholes, steve says.
they’re cruel and inhuman, adam says.
somebody should do something about that, he says.
who? adam says.
somebody who knows what they’re doing, he says.
good luck with that, steve says.
or they know how to improvise, nancy says.
first they need to attain power, steve says, and power corrupts.
that shoots down that idea then, he says.
the assholes we shall always have with us, steve says.
that sucks, adam says.
some people think we’re the assholes, steve says.
there is that, he says. we’re good for nothing freeloading lazy bums.
what’s wrong with that? adam says.
they want productive citizens, steve says.
we produce vibrations of peace, love and understanding, adam says.
that doesn’t make $$$, he says.
actually, nancy says, it would if we all practiced it. or it would at least save $$$ spent on wars and such.
the endless preparation for war, steve says.
that would put a lot of people outta a job, he says. it would crash the economy.
who needs that, adam says, if it produces evil among us?
we’re addicted to it, nancy says. we can’t let go of it though it’s killing us.
it’s the human condition, steve says. nothing can be done about it.
if we take care of ourselves, he says, is the best we can do.
and spread as much good vibrations as we can, adam says.
we can try, he says.
it gets buried beneath the beating of drums and blaring trumpets calling us to war, steve says.
war is everywhere, he says. it’s in every heart.
i don’t believe that, adam says.
it’s part of our theory of everything, nancy says.
it shouldn’t be, adam says.
it needs to be, he says, if our theory is actually going to be about everything. it cannot exclude anything whether we like it or not.
i guess so, adam says. but this is getting depressing.
welcome to the real world, steve says.
yes, he says.

he eats a couple ears of corn.
he drinks more coffee.
another toke.
another cigarette.

let’s talk about something else, adam says. i hate war.
we shouldn’t hate anything, he says. it’s all part of everything.
but some things are evil, adam says.
it’s a matter of perception, he says. we are under a spell of the knowledge of good and evil.
unfortunately for many, steve says, both need to exist for there to be any sorta reality.
correct, he says.
who needs reality? adam says.
without reality, he says, we don’t exist.
that has yet to be proven, nancy says.
we’re working on a theory, he says, we don’t need to prove nothing.
everybody makes shit up, steve says.
yes, he says, and the world is the result of all our combined imaginings.
that seems reasonable, nancy says.
reasonable to a toad, steve says.
toads are very reasonable animals, he says. we could learn a lot from them.
i like toads, adam says. especially the ones you lick and get high.
is that true? nancy says.
i don’t know, he says.
what do you know? steve says.
i know i am, he says.
we all know that, steve says.
but i’m the only one here who’s real, he says.
we can be real, adam says.
if i start believing you’re real, he says, i’m in trouble.
what are you afraid of? steve says.
of going mad, he says, for real.
what’s so bad about that? nancy says.
i already have a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside my head, he says. i don’t wanna end up like that.
how do you know you already haven’t? steve says.
i don’t really, he says.
then what’s the difference? adam says.
i suppose there isn’t any, he says.
21st century schizoid man, steve says.
something like that, he says. i wasn’t expecting to live this long.
welcome to the future, nancy says.
it is rather strangely familiar, he says.
that’s becuz you’re imagining it, steve says.
i try not to think about that, he says.
yeah, steve says, me neither.
what about god? adam says.
there’s no such thing, steve says.
you are right about that, he says. god does not exist as a thing. it is spirit.
that’s make believe, steve says.
i believe it, adam says. and i see it.
that’s what it seems to take, he says.
i don’t need there to be god, steve says.
that’s ok, he says. but god doesn’t exist or not exist on your say so.
that would stand to reason, steve says. but the definition of real is what can been detected with the senses.
god isn’t real under those conditions, he says. but god could still exist.
perhaps, steve says. it doesn’t matter.
no, he says, it doesn’t.

he charges his phone.
he ponders what meaning any of this may or may not have.
it could have all meaning as much as he knows about it.
but he just thinks about it.
it doesn’t need to have meaning.
that’s what gazorbnik is for.

so, nancy says, it would seem that we are in somewhat confusion about the nature of reality and what is real or not and such.
i’m not confused, steve says.
i don’t care if i’m confused or not, he says. confusion leads us to understanding.
perhaps, steve says.
if we’re not confused, nancy says, then understanding has no meaning.
i don’t understand, adam says.
you don’t need to, he says. confusion is its own understanding if we understand it correctly.
that seems to go around in circles, steve says.
that’s the idea, he says, wheels of confusion.
what good does that do? adam says.
it allows us the freedom not to be concerned about if we’re confused or not, nancy says.
i don’t get it, adam says.
there’s nothing to get, nancy says.
that’s what i think i don’t get, adam says.
never mind, he says. it’s alright.
are you sure? adam says.
what are you gonna do about it if it’s not? steve says.
i don’t think i understand what we’re even talking about, adam says.
we were talking about our confusion with reality, nancy says.
nothing is real, steve says.
that’s a popular belief, he says. and we as of yet are unable to prove it wrong if it is wrong.
that’s becuz it’s not wrong, steve says.
right and wrong are figmentations of our imagination, he says.
you believe that becuz you are mad, steve says.
i’d rather be mad, he says.
like you have a choice, nancy says.
i don’t, he says. it’s all up to fate.
no free will? steve says.
that’s still being debated, he says.
so is everything, steve says.
true enough, he says.

through layers of what is supposed to be reality we float downstream toward the sea through calm and rapid waters with many of us not making it.
that doesn’t seem to make a difference with god if there is god.
he’s not so sure if there is or isn’t.
he supposes it doesn’t matter.
the universe seems to be able to be just fine and dandy without god or with god either way.
he uploads his music to the cloud for prosperity though when the lights go out it all disappears which is fine by him.
everything is change.
another toke.

this has become a little too strange for me, adam says.
it does for many people, nancy says.
it’s sophomoric foo-foo, steve says.
but if we don’t know what reality is, adam says, then how do we know we’re not mad?
what difference should that make? he says.
who do we ask to tell us? nancy says.
they’ll tell us whether we ask them or not, he says. that has been my experience.
it’s all bad voodoo, steve says. they collectively psyche us out of our minds.
they are the many, he says. might makes right.
true enough, steve says.
but that isn’t right, adam says.
you could be correct, he says, but nothing changes becuz of that.
we change it from within ourselves first, nancy says, then we effect change without.
there are many different worlds, he says.
billions of them by now, nancy says.
each with their own god i am, he says.
the realities of these worlds cross over each other becoming collective realities of all sorts, nancy says.
how do you know this? steve says.
we don’t, he says. we’re just making it up as we go.
where are we going? adam says.
either heaven or hell, he says.
there is no heaven or hell, steve says. it’s what we tell children to frightened them to behave.
true enough, he says. and that is all they need to be. but they still are a force acting in the world through motivating our actions.
that kinda makes sense, adam says.
it’s part of our theory of everything, nancy says.

and he sleeps.

at the café now he ponders the pointlessness of the situation over a mocha, but he continues nonetheless for the chance something might come to mind that actually has some sorta meaning about something important we should understand about it and everything in general.
keep dreaming.
if there is something like that he feels we would have discovered it by now but then he considers how long it took us to figure out that the earth orbits around the sun if in fact it does now that everything is relative.
what other surprises might be in store for us to completely alter our consciousness?
what other tricks of our perception of the universe will we unravel?
everything we know could be wrong.

how do we know if what we know is right or wrong? adam says.
if the facts and figures add up and tell us, he says.
or we go to an authority, nancy says, they will tell us.
they tell everybody everything, adam says.
in league with the pigs, steve says, and their desire to maintain control.
yes, he says, of course.
as long as we refuse to control ourselves, nancy says.
that’s part of it, he says.
liberty or death, adam says.
that’s a myth, steve says.
don’t tread on me, he says.
we’re splintered into so many opposing factions, nancy says.
a tower of babbling, steve says.
monkeys chattering in a zoo, he says.
us vs them, adam says.
we are them, nancy says.
but they are not us, steve says.
we sit on a fence, he says, and watch the parade and fireworks of it all.
i love it when the circus comes to town, adam says.
too many clowns, steve says.
i feel like a clown, he says.
you’re probably not alone, nancy says.
i’m talking about the serious clowns, steve says. those who don’t know or care that they are clowns.
but if we are them, adam says, we are everyone.
yeah, everyone is on somebody’s shit list, steve says.
but us and them are a duality continuum, nancy says.
everyone is just everyone, adam says.
if it could be that way it would be interesting, he says.
hippie bullshit, steve says. get with the program.
we are part of the culture we grow up in, he says.
mass media hype culture, steve says.
yes, he says. but that changes nothing.
it’s a CIA social experiment, steve says.
it may be by happenstance of a near random mix of certain diverse factors that are nearly impossible to calculate to predict in realtime, he says.
maybe that is the intended experiment, nancy says. chaos magick.
they do worship the dark side, steve says.
yin yang doo-dah thing-a-ma-bob, he says, twirling around around through endless cycles one within the other and on and on and on, etc.
that’s only one way to understand it, nancy says.
if we could tolerate one another’s ideas, adam says, that’d be cool.
not until there is a radical alteration to human nature, steve says.
instant leaps of evolution, he says.
bioengineering, steve says.
GMO human cyborgs, he says.
the book of life, adam says.
it should be interesting, he says.
the pigs win, steve says.
of course, he says, they always have.
the only things that change are which groups of pigs are in power at any given moment, nancy says.
but we can ignore all that if we choose to, adam says.
up to a certain point, nancy says.
they’re too busy fighting against each other for control to care about much else, steve says.
whoever can control the masses, he says, and maintain order.
order through disorder, nancy says.
confuse your enemies, he says. keep them divided and against one another.
we do that naturally anyway, steve says.
true enough, he says, for many of us who willingly or unwillingly join up with us vs them groups of some kind.
there are so many, adam says.
we are socially programmed to think in terms of tribes, steve says.
but they don’t necessarily need to be in opposition, adam says.
all opposites are complementary as well as in opposition, nancy says.
that’s just another duality continuum, steve says, right?
correct, he says.
each us vs them group expresses itself differently, nancy says, from violence to peace.
for many they believe there is no us vs them, adam says.
that’s rather naïve, steve says.
we’re all naïve, nancy says, showing a lack of experience, wisdom or judgment.
we are naïve through indoctrination, steve says, imposed on the impressionable.
we are all that as well, nancy says.
it is impressed on some to excel, steve says, it is impressed on others to fail. it’s all part of the experiment.
or perhaps experiments conducted by various agencies under the cover of secrecy bungling together in the dark, nancy says.
who knows what the fuck? steve says.
speaking of fuck, adam says, that’s what me and steve are going to go do.
sure, steve says. let’s go.
and they get up and go away leaving him and nancy alone together.

well, she says, i’m gonna go fuck somebody too.
who? he says.
whoever, she says.
and she stands and spins dancing widdershins 3 times and disappears.

as he imagines sitting before the computer thinking about going to the café.

at the café he ponders the seeming absurdness of it with an iced mocha scribbling what comes to mind as a not poem into a notebook which he will transpose at home ripping out and recycling the written pages destroying the evidence later.
taking care of business as he is able and sees fit to do so in his estimation of his experience, wisdom and judgment which may be severely lacking in some manner which makes him the same with others and their deficiencies of nature and nurture and indoctrination which we all have to varying degrees and compositions of diverse components making us each individual although sharing similar collective cultures.
he orders and eats a piece of baked chicken with a mexican sprite.

he thinks about consciousness which he finds an amusing thing to do thinking about thinking in a dream dreaming within a dreaming dream.
this doesn’t seem to him to be any much sort of an answer though it may be true.
it merely involutes in on itself swallowing its tail forever toward into oblivion same as it ever was playing on the radio.
this is the way he has went to follow instructions he receives from the etherosphere surrounding everything in aura light seen with higher more refined perception in a fantasy world of another reality of our imaginations gone wild and free flying freak flags high higher highest trailing trails of acid hue across our minds while we maybe decide to dance the hoochie-coo making a joyful noise.
we have imagined the best and worst of the world as it appears to us to become and have weathered storms raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
the human condition ongoing forever seeming unchanged yet perhaps progressing toward a balance in complementary opposition cooperating together to create and sustain a new world out of the death destruction of the old world moment by moment.

it’s alright

imagining waking up to a bright sunny day lighting up the window blinds.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
here we go again through everything that he perceives to be and imagines being.
everything that may be illusion.
what does he know of illusion or reality?
the reality of a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head.
or is that a product of his own madness?
which is what?
the noise of the senses mask over the reality of within ourselves we perceive when the senses are silenced.
when our very thoughts are silenced.
a peaceful quiet understanding is reached.
an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
living on a planet full of freaked out overpopulated primates.
the storm rages on.
he imagines sitting on a beach watching the waves rolling in washing out.
he imagines the machine everyone knows as nancy strolling up to join him sitting with her back to the sea opposite him with moonlight reflecting from her chrome flesh.

hey, she says.
hey, he says.
so, she says, where we at?
all is well, he says.
is it? she says.
for some of us, he says. for others not so much.
what do we do about them? she says.
we are doing what we can given our limited resources and general apathy, he says.
no one cares? she says.
we have trouble of our own, he says.
what trouble is that? she says.
the trouble of existence, he says.
yes, she says. it can become difficult at times.
other than that, he says, everything is cool.
that can change, she says.
yes, he says. we have been fortunate so far.
the gods watch over fools, she says.
i think they must, he says. i have no other explanation.
if there are gods, she says.
yes, he says. that is another piece of the puzzle.
are you still working on fitting that together? she says.
i do what i can, he says, though i doubt i have all the needed pieces and the pieces i do have seem to belong to different puzzles and some to no puzzle at all.
well, she says, it would seem to be an impossible task.
probably, he says. but does it matter?
you are human, she says. it’s what humans do to try to find meaning.
or to create meaning, he says.
gazorbnik, she says.
exactly, he says.

as a spaceship hovers nearby they light up cigarettes as nancy takes out a bottle of vodka from somewhere he did not notice to pass between them each taking gasping swigs.
the almost full moon continues to rise.

so, she says, where does that leave us?
i don’t know, he says. it’s a mystery.
it’s a mystery full of mystery on and on forever, she says.
it could very well be so, he says.
meanwhile, she says, life goes on.
yes, he says. life is full of its own complications.
such is the nature of the beast, she says.
some tell us everything is absurd, he says.
yes, she says, they do.
others tell us the answer lies within, he says.
i’ve never come across an answer that isn’t a hive of questions, she says.
maybe that’s the answer, he says.
all answers are riddles, she says.
that’s what i am thinking, he says.
an eternity of questions, she says.
that would seem to be absurd to many, he says. they want answers that silence questions – to silence thinking itself.
asking questions is thinking, she says.
thinking is being, he says.
without thought there is oblivion, she says.
and we don’t want that, he says. we want to experience more not less.
others feel differently, she says. many seem just to want everything to end.
i don’t understand that feeling, he says. i don’t understand a lot of things about the others.
it does seem to be nothing but confusion with them, she says.
yes, he says. i try to avoid that as much as i can.
go live in the woods and eat nuts and berries, she says.
i think i would if i could, he says, but i know nothing about that.
you could learn, she says.
yes, he says. but i’m lazy.
then don’t, she says.
we all may be down to that someday, he says, when the whole shithouse comes down.
possibly, she says. that could be for the best.
eventually, he says, for the survivors.
there are many prepared for it, she says.
i’m almost dead anyway either way, he says. i’m prepared to die when all else fails.
that seems rather drastic, she says.
it will be drastic times, he says.

he pops back into the real world a moment to refill his coffee and make a peanut butter and raisin sandwich on dark rye.

you may come back as someone entirely different, she says.
i don’t understand how that theory works exactly, he says, but i suppose it is a possibility.
we include it in with our theory of everything, she says.
of course, he says. i don’t expect it to happen though.
what do you expect? she says.
nothing, he says. we die and that’s it – all she wrote.
that could be, she says.
that’s the most likely explanation, he says. but it’s fun to imagine others.
it helps make people feel better thinking there is something that continues, she says.
that’s probably all it is, he says.
aren’t you concerned about it? she says.
i won’t be when i’m dead, he says. i won’t exist to be concerned or anything else.
true enough, she says.

then suddenly nothing happens.

though, he says, there is continuing. the dead are eaten by the living.
that is only our disposable bodies, she says. what about we ourselves whatever we might be?
it depends, he says. what is ourselves?
many people believe we are souls or spirit or something, she says.
that seems to be something we can only discover within, he says, according to the wise guys.
what do they know? she says.
they tell us they know the secrets, he says, and they will tell us for $$$.
that’s not so bad, she says. everybody needs $$$.
not as much as the wise guys get paid, he says, while telling us the material world is illusion and not to pay attention to it as it is a distraction from perceiving eternal bliss consciousness.
true enough, she says.
i don’t get their whole deal, he says. if we belong with god then what the fuck are we doing here in some backwater plane of existence and ignorance?
we must earn our way to god, she says.
fuck that, he says. god can earn its way to us.
sure, she says. why not?
it can start by giving us $$$, he says.
that’d be nice, she says.
yup, he says.

and his baby awakens.
he wishes her good morning.
she grumbles in return shuffling to the coffeemaker.

but god supposedly provides us with everything, she says.
yeah, he says, like cancer.
god works in mysterious ways, she says.
god is a greedy pig, he says, worshipped by greedy pigs.
by most descriptions, she says, i would agree.
nothing new there, he says. god as überape.
that is how many imagine it, she says.
they can have it, he says. let the wars among them fighting for it all continue. i couldn’t care less.
it’s hard to care, she says. we seem to set ourselves up for it.
yeah, he says, that’s what the wise guys tell us. but if we follow their instructions they will guide us out of it.
perhaps, she says.
exactly, he says. i don’t get the part about us being in it to begin with and why the way out must be so secretive and doled out only to the deserving elect.
there must be a reason, she says.
perhaps, he says. i trust gazorbnik instead.
that is a wise choice, she says.
yup, he says.

it’s medication time.
and a ginger ale.

but what does gazorbnik do for us? she says.
gazorbnik is simple, he says, but can be very confusing.
that seems like life, she says.
gazorbnik is life, he says.
i thought gazorbnik is meaningless, she says.
it is, he says.
i understand, she says.

KA-POW!?!

it makes irrationalogic sense, he says.
2+2=cow, she says.
correct, he says.
we make it up for ourselves, she says.
correct, he says.
we change it as we will, she says.
or not, he says.
of course, she says.
however whether anything changes or not being able to change is necessary, he says.
vibrations of cosmic energies, she says.
radiating from everything everywhere everywhen, he says.
it’s amazingly fascinating, she says.
it sure beats nothing, he says.
i thought everything is nothing, she says.
that’s a popular belief, he says. but if so, then nothing is everything.
not necessarily, she says.
nope, he says.

he steps outside onto the porch for some warm morning sun where there’s a small gnat stuck in a spider’s web blowing in the breeze.
another loser.
he lets it be.
he lights another cigarette.
his own neck in the noose.

so, nancy says, is there at some point a fundamental nature of everything?
we seem to like to believe so, he says. we’re still searching for the atom – the indivisible.
it might exist beyond our ability to perceive, she says, even with our maximum enhanced senses.
they would need to be infinitely enhanced, he says.
true enough, she says.
i believe in the naked eye, he says.
that’s one way to go, she says, i guess.
i also believe in technology, he says. i’ve had my life saved by it seeing the unseen.
yes, she says, there is that.
there is always a middle ground, he says.
everything is continuums, she says.
there is that theory, he says.
i thought it was our theory, she says.
it is part of our overall theory of everything which includes everything, he says.
that becomes very confusing, she says.
yes, he says. delightfully so.

the morning sun is no longer directly in the window as he lifts the blinds to gaze outside where nothing much but everything is happening.
today is trash day.
he’s got 2 bags so far + 1 when he cleans the cat box.
it’s too hot to take them out now.
the cooler evening will be better.
this is what he is thinking as he gets a mint chocolate ice cream sandwich from the freezer in the kitchen.
he is digging it.

so, she says, besides further confusion what does our theory of everything provide for us?
another way of thinking, he says.
another way of thinking that is madness, she says.
it seems that way to many, he says, perhaps to most if not nearly everyone.
is that good or not good? she says.
it’s good for us, he says, but perhaps not good for them.
but we are them, she says.
that is part of our theory, he says, yes.
gazorbnik is a diamond reflecting the same light into zillions of dazzling variations, she says.
it is a flawed diamond, he says. worthless.
worthless in terms of $$$, she says.
$$$ measures usefulness, he says.
i suppose, she says, but not always.
$$$ in and of itself is worthless, he says.
it’s what we are compelled to do for $$$ that determines its value, she says, either voluntary or coerced.
it’s only tokens of exchange, he says.
tokens that have certain meanings, she says.
the tokens themselves have no meaning, he says. their meaning is 0. that is how they are able to convey other meanings.
sorta like gazorbnik, she says.
you got it, he says.

gazorbnik isn’t as confusing as it seems at first, she says.
we’ve only scratched the surface of gazorbnik, he says.
it has a surface? she says.
in a manner of speaking, he says. don’t be so literal.
is there a surface to anything? she says.
to the naked eye it appears so, he says.
certainly everything doesn’t have a surface being infinite, she says.
unless it has infinite surfaces, he says.
that’s interesting to think about, she says.
that’s primarily what gazorbnik provides us, he says, things that are interesting to think about. it doesn’t necessarily offer answers to it or even propose questions about it. it just thinks about it.
interesting, she says.
quite, he says.

as morning turns into afternoon he lights a cigarette.
some guy drives by the window appearing to be lost eating a burger.
or that’s what it looked like.
it was only a moment or 2.

but how can there be 2 moments when there is only 1? she says.
it depends on if we perceive the world as finite or infinite, he says. infinitely there is only 1. finitely there is infinite.
1 > infinity, she says.
except when prohibited by law, he says.
i thought gazorbnik has no law, she says.
only rationalogic has laws, he says. but we must abide by them.
how come? she says.
rationalogic describes the physical plane, he says. as long as we remain physical beings we are subject to them.
being a physical being must suck, she says.
being any sorta of being must suck on some level, he says. no one gets free of the suck. it’s how we react and respond to the suck that matters and is the difference.
what about those who reach perfect godhead? she says.
i doubt that there is any such thing, he says.
if everything is everything, she says, then there must be.
true enough, he says. but all perfection has a flaw.

he broils a croissant with honey butter for his baby in the oven until it is perfectly toasty tasty.

there must be perfection somewhere, she says.
everything is perfection despite its countless flaws, he says. perfection is matter of perception.
thus a pile of dog shit can be perfect, she says.
only until we step in it, he says.
i understand, she says.
i’m glad you do, he says. i am not very clear about it myself.
no, she says, it doesn’t seem that you are.
i know nothing, he says, or if i do know anything it is probably wrong.
man, she says, did someone ever do a number on you.
yes, he says. a number of someones. everyone i’ve ever met thus far.
that’s too bad, she says.
not always, he says. it’s either for better or worse.
how do you know which? she says.
when all the data has been gathered and processed and verified perhaps i will know, he says. until then i can only guess.
that’s the way of gazorbnik, she says.
yes, he says. guesswork is key to gazorbnik.
i understand, she says.

strange people driving past the window.
he understands mercury is in retrograde.
watch out.
a woman walks by slowly in the heat with recycling to take to the bins by the laundry building.
another toke.
another cigarette.
listening to cream play toad live.

as we all know we can’t just believe everything we see and hear, he says, can we?
we can’t? she says. how come?
it could be in error, he says.
human error? she says.
of course, he says. you don’t think anyone else is gonna admit to it, do you?
that would be silly if i did, she says.
yes, he says, silly indeed. they are full of holiness now. nothing can touch them.
hooray for them, she says.
i pity them, he says.
yes, she says. but isn’t error only a rationalogic concept?
for them to be correct, he says, something else must be in error.
hahaha, she says, that’s funny.
they are very serious, he says. many will kill and die over it.
if they would only try to gazorbnik and understand, she says.
gazorbnik is entirely beyond their comprehension, he says, though it would seem that some are coming around to it as their calculations go awry otherwise.
so the hippies were right? she says.
the only good hippie is a dead hippie, he says.
there’s plenty of those around, she says.
they’re dropping like flies on a hot cheese log, he says.
it’s probably for the best, she says.
let them rot in peace, love and understanding, he says.
that’d be nice, she says.
it’s relative, he says.
that’s where everything goes wrong, she says, when it became relative.
everything was so much better when everything was objective, he says.
much more solid, she says.
much more real, he says.
but reality is the problem, she says, for everyone.
reality is fuzzy, he says.
perhaps we don’t understand, she says, and we’re the ones that are fuzzy.
that’s a possibility, he says.
everything is a possibility, she says.
it’s probability that counts, he says. this certain universe seems only to allow a certain amount of possibilities to occur.
but there is more than this universe, she says.
many believe so, he says. it is realized when the mind is quiet of distracting thought.
there is that theory, she says.
everything is theory, he says.
there is no truth? she says.
that cannot be stated without contradiction, he says.
what’s wrong with contradictions? she says.
those who believe in truth will not accept them as valid, he says.
having a sound basis in logic or fact, she says. being reasonable or cogent?
yup, he says.
that’s all rationalogic dada foo-foo, she says.
they’re the ones who believe in truth, he says.
but we don’t? she says.
gazorbnik, he says.
gazorbnik is our truth? she says.
to a certain extent, he says, as it suits our purpose.
that seems to be everyone’s excuse, she says.
yeah, he says, but their truths make $$$. gazorbnik is dead broke and deeply in debt.
that makes sense, she says.
does it? he says.
yup, she says as a sea serpent crawls swimming outta the surf and nancy climbs on its back and flies away up disappearing among the stars.

and he wonders why all this nonsense of whatnot involved in just living a fucking life.
that’s all he really wants to do.
he doesn’t need to know secrets of everything though they do seem interesting enough to think about and try to fit them together into something that makes sense maybe.
stop making sense.
stop making $$$, dude.
him and his baby go out for supplies.

but all the nonsense of living seems to be a product of being a social species ranked in hierarchical order of have and have not and everybody wanting to be at the top looking down on everyone else and getting all that they desire that might allay their fear.
and we fuss and fight about it.
and those who try to control it.
and those who try to instigate it.
and those who just wanna be left alone.

given the way of our individual and collective natures what else can be but the world we got that few of us really seem to give a flying fuck at a donut about?
it is amazing to him that the world is as organized as it is considering as disorganized as it is.
as the war to end all war continues to be waged on all fronts he pets the kitty who’s been bugging him for a while.
he adjusts the pillow behind his back.
he gazes out the window at a world amazing in every detail on whatever scale.
and to think of it all being imaginary makes it all the more amazing.
he wonders about someone being someone who is an authority on maggots.
he wonders if they voted in the last election.
if so, for who?
our side or their side?

as he tries to find no side.
but he finds even he is on sides.
sometimes different sides in opposition.
what is the same thing we all want for ourselves in common?
probably $$$.
it’s universal.
the love of $$$ seems to be in common among us worldwide though in some cultures it’s how much we can give away rather than how much we can keep that makes us the big shot.
a little bit more sustaining for all concerned.

medication time.
he makes more coffee too.
a toke.
a cigarette.
he believes in all truths.
the more they contradict each other the better.
hail victory, suckers!

it’s sad but true.
the human condition.
human error.
until the cyborg machines take over and put us out to pasture – or outta our misery.
won’t life be grand in the age to come?
1000 years of paradise.
he has his 1st corn on the cob of the season.
probably GMO.
he’s ready to be mutated.
he wipes his buttery salty lips with his shirt.
he lights another cigarette.
he fills the fat black cat’s water dish.
bach brandenburg concerto #3.
followed by zappa lumpy gravy.
maybe some firesign bozos after that.
whatever gets him through the night.
it’s alright.
it’s alright.

oenfi ksbeuud 0008

he awakens.
his brain is still asleep.
he lights a cigarette.
he imagines sitting before the computer typing out a not poem about our theory of everything.
a toke.
his life up in smoke.
it’s just a joke everyone takes seriously cuz it’ll kill us if we don’t.
but some take it so seriously they get tangled up in it with no way out.
to live a simple reclusive life he’s found is best for him.
thinking about everything.
like the divine right of kings.
like the king of the world.
like democracy among the landed male aristocrats.
like the struggle for suffrage for everyone else.
like corporate greed control.
etc.

the wheels turn around around around.
cycles within and without cycles from particles to the universe itself.
with us somewhere in the middle.
everything in motion.
but there no such thing as motion.
a solid grid plenum of every possible location of nothing.
ignited into being.
what was the spark?
the will of i am to create itself?
and everything else follows.
the appearance of motion as these locations turn on/off in ordered patterns out of happenstance chaos.
the simulation machine.
everything located in no space no time here now.
the answer is a riddle on and on with more questions always than answers.
answers are for those who have stopped thinking.
our answer is gazorbnik, whatever that might mean.

triggering the unconscious power.
id consciousness.
the lizard king.
we must go down as well as up to become whole to ourselves.
the entire wavelength continuum of it tracing across spacetime in constant flux.
there is no death.
death decays into the living.
but we worship that which does not decay but remains eternal as it is – dead.
we attempt to manufacture the same.

a diamond mind maze of mirrors reflecting images of itself outward surrounding itself with itself.
images of light and shadow dancing on the cave wall in which we are held prisoner against our will to be.
a thought experiment revealing the insidious nature of the present regime of rationalogic thinking.
their schemes against us to use us for their own purpose and profit.
and we rebel as we will but without a clue.
we see good and evil where there is none.
but that doesn’t make sense.
much of what we have to relate doesn’t make sense.
except for gazorbnik showing us the way to it.
of course there is good and evil.
that’s what everything is based on.
but what if there wasn’t?
where would we be then?
would we feel anything?
would we think anything?
would we experience anything?
would we be anything?

the play of everything with itself of ordered patterns shape shifting swirling spiraling about the universe never repeating the same ever again and such like that.
he likes it all in box with a lid.
he likes to know this from that from the other thing.
objects to create sustain destroy yet the fundamental nature of it is supposedly preserved if we ever knew what its fundamental nature is exactly.
they’re working on it with their own theory of everything to explain all.
our own theory is never complete.
how can it be?
how can any theory of everything be complete when everything itself is not complete?
not when it is boundless infinity.
any theory that completes itself is finite.
the finite cannot describe infinity.
there will always be +1 more forever.
1 > infinity.
imagine that in your hat.

he is smoking like a fiend.
the fiend within.
our own worst enemy.
what will it take to get it to behave?
an act of will?
he is will-less.
he’s too lazy and too tired.
he is a creature of many habits.
he faces east as he types out more of the infamous epic not poem.
he writes as he thinks as he writes on and on confused with questions he tries to imagine answers for from what he knows and/or what comes to mind in the moment.
all is peace, love and understanding.
damn hippies.

all is scarcity and self-interest and $$$.
that’s what makes the world go around.
time’s a-wasting.
do it.
do it now.
don’t be a bum.
bums are no good and won’t be tolerated.
not in our brave new world as it is.
the experiment continues.
so far all systems are go.
he reports to the committee about the progress of the project.
the object of total control.
there are those who feel so destined as to take command.
there are those who happily follow wanting none of it.
there are those misfits who don’t fit in anywhere.
what do we allow them when it all comes down?
we are jettisoned as part of their master plan.
the corporate pigs claiming more and more wealth and power.
they manipulate public opinion in their favor though there are fringe naysayers that not enough listen to or believe or organize.
they receive a smattering of applause and some boos and jeers.
the audience in the burning theater will not tolerate bullshit.
they are awaiting the chosen one to come as promised.

he has a hot dog.
he follows instructions to do what makes himself happy more or less.
many believe happiness is an illusion.
truth produces freedom but agonizing despair when our eye is opened.
many believe happiness is for the privileged few while the rest of us are on our own.
he has found this not to be true pretty much.
he has seen happy bums and miserable privileged.
he has gazorbnik.
gazorbniking makes him happy.
everything else, not so much.
most things cause worry and concern about them.
gazorbnik remains consistent.
gazorbnik is within everything.
gazorbnik turns everything on.
gazorbnik don’t do shit.
but seriously, he takes a nap.

he awakens.
he makes coffee.
a toke.
a cigarette.
his baby discussing end of the world scenarios with his grandson.
it’s all the rage to speculate about.
eat or be eaten.
so he continues typing out a not poem.
he has to drive a car in a parade tomorrow.
he makes an egg and cheddar sandwich for his baby.
everything goes well so far.
thanks to gazorbnik or whatever.
thanks to the lord god in the highest.
crazy times around him with him in it.
whirl-a-gig thing.
wheee… ???

but this is the drama of it.
far from the ideal dharma.
dharma set in concrete.
rigid social control.
we are who we are told to be.
medication time.

another cigarette.
he continues thinking what comes to mind about everything.
he worries  about everything that could go wrong.
but there is no right or wrong.
except in the world of dualism.
to step out of this world into another.
gazorbniking it into being real.
all from an invisible golden dragon shitting a singularity and all that jazz as the result to us sitting here wondering whatever the fuck about it which is more than we could ever entirely comprehend but perhaps understand.
or not.

our reason only goes so far with its finite understanding.
our imagining continues further into infinity.
the rational and irrational in dance together along a continuum in dualistic opposition.
and news of more shootings and such.
are these continuums strings?
vibrating energy waves radiating from everything everywhere everywhen.
what’s what and what’s not?
which is which?
rationalogic will not tolerate this reasoning of this sort of gazorbniking type business that they claim leads us astray further into delusion and madness.
yes, it does.
somebody’s gotta do it, why not us?
or else the entire structure collapses if there is no one who are mad in it.
but with gazorbnik there are no set chiseled in stone rules but the flowing rules of the river steadily eroding away at the rationalogic world we live in.
with our theory of everything there are not truths but every truth that is ever thought of.
when these truths can come together in peace, love and understanding which many profess to believe in but usually only if their truth is supreme.
how do we best organize a labor force to use and profit from?
to get them to believe in one truth.
$$$ is the only truth they all hold in common, yet they deny it.
the love of $$$ is the root of all evil they are told.
the material world is illusion they are taught.
invest in heaven.
this is what the pigs want us to believe while they grab it all for themselves.
reduce the competition.
confuse the enemy.
victory.

there is truth in all truths.
but is there one truth to be true in all truths?
gazorbnik?
we doubt that.
gazorbnik is not truth.
gazorbnik is pure self-deceiving fantasy and lies.
gazorbnik is meaningless.
it means whatever we might believe it or doubt it to mean.
being is not always meaning and/or vice versa.
meaning is imaginary metaphorical symbolic doo-dah that may at times have little connection to from which it derives its meaning.
huh?
gazorbnik is not for everyone but the few and far between.
meaning may or may not be truth.
we have yet in all this time to agree on what is truth besides what rationalogic tells us is truth based on the facts and figures of it.
the truth could be an infinitesimal cosmic banana for all we might know that could all be very much mistaken as it has been shown to us in the past about what we are convinced is truth being proven not truth.
but humans do not live by rationalogic alone.
we have evolved imagination for some purpose determining us being fit to survive.
imagination tempered with reason.
imagination as 6th sense or something like that.
the mind’s eye.
with most of us it is out of whack in some way from whatever our nature and/or experiences have been.
and the constant indoctrinations by the pigs and their minions throughout the world in whatever cultural form they might take.
to rule by mastering the collective will until others come to master it better otherwise but with the same objective in mind of domination and control.
in the name of truth.

and with truth comes justice which is revenge in disguise to set things right again.
out with the old and in with the new.
out with the new and in with the old.
does it matter which?
when everything is out of balance one way or the other.
but it always has been is will be.
this is true dharma, not the prescribed idealized balanced dharma we usually think it is.
there is no set form.
there is endless change.
endless change that is unchanging.
unchanging as the sea always being the sea no matter the shape it might take at any given moment.
the ideal of static balance is death not living life.
and la-dee-da like that and then some.

he has frustration dreams.
he can’t find his way or can’t put something together.
he wakes in a panic of dread.
and life mimics these dreams in reality.
relaxed steady patience.
watch and wait.
breathe.
gazorbnik.

gazorbnik is the most useless thing there is.
it does nothing by confound everything.

but it makes us think – to think anew.
it can lead to realization but not always.
it can lead into further heights and depths of madness.
the mad are blessed with a curse.
he would be nothing otherwise.
he is not envious of and/or tempted by others and the paths they choose or are chosen for them.
do any of us have a choice?
he suspects not as he makes a meatloaf sandwich.

he is nowhere close to anything worth much of much.
his delusions with himself and everything.
just as the wise guys warn us not to fall into.
there seems no way out.
abandon all hope and all that jazz.
like a living hell for many.
he has visited that realm often along the way he has come to eventually understand it for what it is.
the initiation into the magick of madness he has learned to imagine for himself.
he may be entirely wrong in the opinion of others compared with their truths but what he has come to understand he has thought out for himself not to be thought out for him.
groupthink people marching around like they own the place which they probably do.
groupthink gets things done – things that make $$$.
gazorbnik gets nothing done but what it does with our minds.
it has many various ways to do this for each individual often without them knowing anything is being done.
gazorbnik is for the individual.
gazorbnik cannot be applied collectively or else it no longer works the same but just becomes another tool for the pigs to control which may eventually happen or perhaps already has.
it is difficult to determine which or what.

ghosts in space.
everything in space.
spacetime funtime.
thrills and chills.
the roller coaster ride of existing in this world as it appears.
does it appear the same to all?
perhaps or not.
we each interpret different meanings it has at the very least.
some meanings are more successful than others.
meanings that make $$$.
meanings that lead us to further suffering.
he takes another toke.
coughing and hacking.
meanings that guide us to further revelations of everything as they come to mind as it comes and goes as he is able to tune into it or not.
the vibrations of peace, love and understanding are subtle and covered over with the noise of the world at large.
to calm ourselves enough to perceive and receive them.
to be mad enough to imagine them.

it’s all mixed up to him to be not the way he would have it if he were to decide.
the world as a stalemate of wills in contest with one another.
he understands that it works to a certain extent and how it works more or less but it seems a needless waste with so many who are the losers.
couldn’t it be a compromise of wills worked out agreeably by all parties involved such that everyone could benefit?
or something like that.
we shall see.

but for now we are each in it for ourselves even among those in collective groups from a circle of friends to global organizations whether we realize it or not.
we each are in it as those who are each unique to ourselves.
alone together.
collectives of individuals.
an elaborate game that he finds somewhat interesting observing but not wanting to be part of it but that is not an option.
but he avoids it as much as he can.
that’s his plan.
it doesn’t need to be anyone else’s.
no one’s plan needs to be anyone else’s except the collective plan designed by high mucky muck overlords down through the various ranked levels of their minions top to bottom.
and so on.

but that is of the world and has little to do with us besides what we need to live in it while we are here.
he chose a simple life free of as many responsibilities as he could get away with to be lazy and have time to pursue happiness while others dive into it wholeheartedly to succeed in it and make lottsa $$$.
that’s too much like work to him.
but these folk climb their way to the top and take over cuz no one stands in their way though all of us suffer because of them and their greed.
but we ultimately get the blame for that for not being good enough.
but what are we to do but divorce ourselves apart from the scheme as we are able?
some are more able than others.
many do not even notice anything at all.
we each are one against the world allied with others who we come to more or less trust enough and/or can profit from and/or they profit from us.
all sorts of relationships individual to individual weaving the collective social tapestry web thing together for us or against us manipulating or manipulated to be in with some and out with others on and on.
he never realized all this when he had a chance to do something about it.
now he just laughs at his youthful ignorance.
we are not mad.
we are designated and labeled mad.
but it’s when we don’t know for ourselves if we are mad or not that we become insane.
and many do not come out of it again.
first it is then it is not then it is.

another toke.
dreaming away between writing this or that or the other thing as they come to mind.
a life of dreaming dreams and waking up far too late.
but he has always been on this way to some degree or another in zigzag roundabout wanderings hither and yon around the bend over the hills and far away.
always following what he thought were instructions he was telepathically receiving from higher beings of some sort on the gazorbnik channel before there was gazorbnik.
he understands now what it might possibly be.
and he cannot reveal everything about it.
he either isn’t allowed or cannot describe or doesn’t know.
people spying on him all the time everywhere.
who is he?
who do they think he is?
do they even know or are they following their own instructions from outer space?
just doing their job.
just like he’s doing his job.
we’re all just doing our jobs or playing our parts or whatever no matter what we do or why we’re doing it.
what is everything?
what does everything mean?
two different questions with different answers that are riddles of further questions.
the rationalogicists will calculate what everything is.
the irrationalogicists will imagine what everything means.
rationalogic rejects everything imaginary.
it demands proof.
there is only imaginary proof.

he sleeps.

he awakens again out of dreams into a dream.
a dream dreamt by ourselves as other.
we are splintered images of the i am in the maze of mirrors.
a swirling vortex matrix of all being coming alive experiencing thinking feeling.
born naked unsuspecting.
confused and hungry.
existing on natural instinct to survive.
the wonder of it as we learn to adapt with what is and to find meaning within our experience for ourselves and within the collective belief structure thing.
and to learn to make coffee to keep ourselves awake which he does.

there is something wrong about all this but he’s not sure what or how.
there ought to be something wrong with this since he knows little about anything.
it’s only a not poem.
it’s not anything really serious.
vague impressions of what everything might be or not.
a peanut butter bacon sandwich.
more coffee.
a cigarette.

we follow the rules whether we follow the rules or not.
everything is logical.
logic never fails.
but rationalogic or irrationalogic?
he chooses neither/both.
one or the other alone is no good.
rationalogic stifles us.
irrationalogic makes us crazy.
a blending of the two is needed for balance out of balance along on the continuum.

everything is as it should be otherwise it would be different.
we must find ways to adjust to it like it or not.
we are strange visitors from another planet.
kidnapped and brought here by space pirates from our blue neptunian home sweet home.
fuckers.
don’t come the way we’ve gone.
be productive happy citizens.
everybody will be better off.
the lazy life is a troubled life.
too many thoughts in our heads about useless nothing.
be independent climbing that ladder toward success doing our own thing.
stand out but for all the right reasons not the wrong ones.
wear heaven’s crown.
if only he had known this back when.
he was told but he did not believe or even quite understand.
he thought he could get away with it which he kinda did and didn’t.
by the grace of god.

the endless emptiness of it if one chooses to perceive it that way.
or the overflowing fullness of it.

that’s all for now.
he has to go drive in a parade.

thoughts from the void

imagining sitting before the computer gazing out the window at people driving trucks up the street typing out a not-poem about our theory of everything.

the crime of love.
the time of hate.
the reason for it all.
believing.
bleeding.
and god.
and a dog.

not quite knowing what we’re doing but unable to stop ourselves.
it’s much too late by now.
we’re on our way.
destination unknown undiscovered.
what more do we want?
we want it all.
we want it now.
all unreason is ours for the others to wonder about how to make us behave ourselves which we refuse until our demands are met.

quack.
we begin by being.
we begin by realizing i am.
we open our eye to the void.
an empty canvas for us to paint as we please.
what do we feel?
what do we think?
we imagine everything happening at once in constant confusion settling into order as we desire for it to become.

he becomes tired.
life has done him in.
he squandered his chances for eternity.
he squandered his chances to become anyone he might choose.
he never could figure it out.
a silence descends upon him.
a silence of anxious peace he has become quite used to as his natural state of mind at rest for the time being as being human in a world appearing out of the play of light and shadow on the face of the deep.
a void of no space nor time nor anything but his mind thinking i am.

just kidding.
none of this is real.
wake up.
pay attention.
this will be on the test.
the test of the fate of our soul everlasting in torment or bliss or somewhere in the middle between.
it’s medication time.

it has been pretty much supposed that punishment does not deter crime.
so why is god so stupid?
but god is perfect, so god is right.
we are wrong.
so the wise guys tell us.
but there is no god that might be detected by our senses therefore it does not exist.
technically they are correct.
an infinite god cannot exist within finite parameters.
they are exacting that way.
we are more free with our definitions.
if it can be imagined then it exists.
our imagination as a sense to detect what the other senses do not.
perhaps.
or not.

he feels being out among people that he is still on a childhood playground the way we behave where we learned our basic social skills one way or another.
he watches and waits.
who are the few and far between among them?
look closely.
anyone?
everyone?

cleverly disguised as no one he gets by unnoticed.
nothing to see here, move along.
an observation point.
writing a report to the committee as a not poem.
the project is ahead of schedule and under budget.
all is well.

everything ultimately as one.
1 > infinity.
we can’t get there from here.
he chews some bazooka.
he scrambles some eggs for him and his baby.
everywhere is here.
god is here, undetectable but by imagination.
we are here.
the exact center of infinity is here.
everything is infinity.
everything is 0.
he sleeps.

he awakens.
the blues.
a cigarette.
a feeling of impending disaster looms over him.
one of the drawbacks of being mad.
but is it madness?
in reality anything can happen.
as the gods decide to cast fate upon us.
the gods can be cruel.
it’s medication time.

and he comes to the café.
mocha.
he’s not really awake as yet.
still partly dreaming.
radio making unnecessary noise people seem comforted by that he finds annoying.
he prefers silence.
he prefers his thinking which others seem to wanna avoid their own and need stimulating distractions.
little in this world is as he would have it.
but everyone probably feels that same way.
all these other fuckers fucking everything up.
they could die and we wouldn’t be that concerned about it but would feel perhaps relieved.
it would be quiet.
it’s just a mood he gets into once in a while.

is this world some sorta testing ground for us to earn points toward transcending our way out of it?
transcend to what?
higher more refined planes of perception and existence more perfect as we approach the perfect godhead?
but how perfect is it?
perfect being what?
is everything perfect except this world?
that seems rather strange.
perfection/imperfection is another duality continuum thing.
a matter of our perception.
a matter of taste?
are all our ideas of what is perfection the same?
nope.
he declares everything perfect with its imperfections.
if we decide to perceive it that way then is that how it is?
or something like that.

we find our own space and time to be able to be in the state of mind to perceive perfection even in the world as is.
he perceives perfection in the earth, the world is another matter.
the world human created by those of us who perceived the earth as wanting under the influence of the spell of the knowledge of good and evil we build the world to overcome.
but the earth itself is paradise of abundance while the world is filled with scarcity.
the earth tends to itself while the world needs constant vigilant maintenance or it collapses.
the earth is a playground while the world is a workshop.
he would like to live with the earth but where do we find it anymore?
who is prepared for it?
not him.
he is a child of the world in all its tyranny.
without it he is dead meat.

he doesn’t know what to do.
he is mad in relation to this world.
he is mad in relation to the earth.
he has nowhere to turn.
so he sits here in the café scribbling a not poem about our theory of everything for all it is worth.
all that perfection means.
no mistakes or flaws.
completely correct or accurate.
having all qualities wanted.
satisfying all requirements.
corresponding to an ideal standard or abstract concept.
faithfully reproducing the original.
lacking no essential detail.
and like that.
doesn’t the world qualify to at least some of these?

the world is perfect as it is but not compared with an ideal of perfection.
what is a mistake or flaw?
we are told the mistake and flaw in this world are ourselves.
we’re just a buncha fuck ups.
who tells us this but the wise guys in league with the pigs to keep us oppressed and doing our job?
to realize perfection we need to realize it within ourselves to be ourselves.
but others judge us otherwise and we judge others otherwise.
everyone is guilty.
everyone is to blame.
no one wants us around.
everything would be perfect without us.
we should all die.
save the world.
kill yourself.

the feeling arises in us that we are not good enough.
all heaven and hell comes from this.
perfection above.
imperfection below.
we are told we must rise above ourselves to seek higher ground.
up in the trees free as a breeze.
our social ranking is devised from this.
the higher the status the higher in the tree.
to shit and piss on the rest.
we still position ourselves this way and it is ingrained in our use of language and thinking.

opening doors to the other side where it is better than being here as it is believed in popular opinion.
everyone wants to escape.
everyone wants out.
to reach for perfection for our true happiness.
the closer to perfection the closer to happiness.
the closer to god.
but for him he derives happiness from imperfections within the ideal of perfection others seem to have.
to see weeds growing through cracks in a sidewalk and such like.
changing perfection rather than static perfection.
the perfection of water opposed to the perfection of stone.
but he chooses neither/both.

to allow the world to gently return to the earth before it suddenly collapses on its own.
but that will not happen probably.
the world continues to stagger on throughout our wavering history of rise and fall of civilizations.
this is perfection in the real as opposed to the ideal that is often imposed on the real to mimic.
this world is perfect in its own right as being the perfect best and the perfect worst of all possible perfect worlds.
it has all the qualities wanted satisfying all requirements and lacking no essential detail in both respect of being best and worst.
why worst?
isn’t perfection supposed to be best?
that is the ideal.
everyone wants the best for themselves.
but best and worst are relative to those experiencing them.
the best for one is the worst for another.
and as with any other duality the two are both complementary and in opposition.
and la-dee-da about that.

he knows nothing.
he views those in torment and to who avenues to enlightenment are far removed and inaccessible.
perhaps in further lifetimes they might be more fortunate and reach it.
should he trust this?
we all come from the same muck and mire of the world before attaining higher levels of consciousness that brings us to what we most desire to be perfect in heaven or hell or somewhere on the continuum between and beyond.
we cannot determine what perspectives others are basing their view of reality which is not one thing but many things.
and there is the individual and the collective ideals of it.
a rock is a rock.
is it the best rock?
is it the worst?
it’s just an ordinary rock yet it is perfect in and of itself for what it is if we decide to perceive it that way.
put it in your pocket.

it’s not what things are that we judge them but for what they are compared to what we feel they ought to be.
to perceive perfection in everything without this judgment.
he has a rock in his pocket not because it is perfect in the sense it has value to others like it being gold or a diamond or something but because it is perfect in its ordinariness.
it is a rock that can be found almost anywhere.
no one would think twice about it.
this is how we should view the world to see its perfection.
if one wants to that is.
no big deal if not.

it’s quite simple once we get through all the complicated shit to get to it.
and he wonders why that is.
why should we not have innate knowledge of this?
few of us are told about it but instead we are filled with useless information designed to make us productive citizens.
everything is such a struggle against everything.
becuz this world is the best and the worst.
and we’re a buncha fuck ups.
the worst fuck ups possible.
shape up or ship out.
or get on it.

and this isn’t anything but what one person gathered together from information accessible to pretty much everyone if they look for it and to think about one’s own experiences.
if he can do it then anyone should be able to.
but it takes a certain perspective of mind to think this way and to attract the information we need when we need it according to our understanding.
but maybe this is his lifetime that it happens and for others it’s not.

so in a tenuous situation that could collapse at any given moment it feels like or not he is fairly satisfied with his existence more or less thus far along the way toward further understanding as he perhaps deludes himself into thinking but even if that is the case, so be it.
there’s all sortsa shit he doesn’t like about the world that mainly centers around the actions of his fellow humans but they work hard for nothing almost to provide him with just about anything he might need or want which they give him $$$ to pay for.
but they’re always fucking with shit, mostly one another, instead of letting it go its own way.
but they won’t allow that though in the long term it could make our lives that much easier maybe.
when the power goes out he likes people fucking with shit to get it back on though perhaps eventually they won’t.
he lives by the grace of fate guided perhaps by god that has been kind thus far though he often felt otherwise.
but he is privileged to some extent to have had advantages others have not.
he doesn’t understand why this must be.
all should have equal advantage.
all should have equal upbringing and education regardless of social status which needs to wither away.
but there’s no room in the top of the trees for all of the monkeys.
but all this is nothing that hasn’t been pointed out before by others in more intelligent detailed analysis and blah blah blah.
he continues though it is so much babbling while he watches and waits while life goes on.
he needs to go to the store for supplies.

this is only his experience of it.
limited experience at that.
and remember, he is an idiot.
this world is based on frustration.
but we learn from our frustration toward understanding.
he has found this to be true.
frustrated that the world is not as perfect for us as it should be in our opinion.
we mostly try to change the world and not ourselves or our perception to adjust our ideals to account for actual reality.
he realized that the majority of frustration he feels is self-generated driven by expectations of things turning out differently than they are.
expectations are based in desire and fear, our primary motivators.
we want something or to get away from something.
we do not get what we want nor get away.

he comes home.
a toke.
a cigarette.
transmigration of soul/spirit/self.
the self within ourselves.
he never much understood what that means.
a cup of sea water poured back into the sea.
a vehicle we inhabit in this world until it breaks down and we find another.
bodies within bodies more and more refined to the point of not existing at all.
none of this makes shit sense to him.
how many selves?
how many bodies?
russian dolls to eternity.
he doubts that but if it is absurd it must be true.
we are to find it within.
he searches empty rooms for himself not himself.
he finds no one.
not even a reflection in a mirror.
what happened?

it gets more and more complicated when it should be getting more and more simple.
if it’s not simple then how are the simple to understand?
if the simple cannot understand then what are we doing here the fuck for anyway?
we don’t believe in magick answers.
we want to know exactly what and how otherwise no one has anything to tell us about nothing.
is this a masquerade party?
everybody in costume.
oh boy.
what fun.
not.
not with pain and suffering.
whose idea of a party is that?
how did they get to decide and not us?

no, we are to be thankful for life.
the wise guys tell us the world is nothing and our mortal selves are nothing.
then what the fuck are we doing here besides to work for the pigs till we drop?
fuck the pigs.
let them clean their own goddamn toilets.
it’s a scam scheme.
we are kidnapped by space pirates and brought here against our will to provide slave labor for the reptilian overlords and their master plan to pillage the earth to leave us with nothing.
and the wise guys are in on it telling us make believe stories to distract us from our plight.
we want our lives as we want to enjoy for the time being evermore.

or maybe that’s not right either.
begin again.
i am.
a being ever existing and/or willing itself to exist.
whatever.
it can do anything as there is nothing prohibiting or preventing it from doing so becuz other than itself is void.
so it does everything at once.
everything explodes onto the scene creating spacetime with which to do everything with as it wills the ensuing chaos into ordered patterns to become any countless number of things.
and this i am walks into a maze of mirrors reflecting itself into images of light and shadow with each having their own identity though each is still i am.
these reflecting images exist for mere flashing moments as the i am passes through them creating sustaining destroying them transforming itself through them and their experiences of everything.
and after a while it all runs down to 0 and poofs outta existence.

he lights a cigarette.
none of this might be true.
he’s making it up.
it’s medication time.

more about whatever

and those who feel like dancing.
then dance.
let’s sing to each other no matter how off key we may be.
let’s not be ashamed.
would it be less difficult to be in love?
love without an object but to feel love.
and the wise guys tell us that god is love.
we doubt that.
god seems as wild emotional as we are.
venting great anger, jealousy, vengeance, etc.
death to those who don’t follow the line.
and all that jazz.
god on the top of some universal hierarchy.
the supreme autocrat.
is that the way it really is?
that kinda sucks.

whatever.
to go our own way as much as we are able under the circumstances of their domination and control of the world.
some people are sloth.
he would like to be a sloth.
it seems like the life to him.
or be a tree.
but probably will be another dumb human.
he’s not so impressed by the species as a whole.
they do not seem so impressed with themselves.

the next day –

to feel god surround us or something like that of similar effect of synchronistic events coming to our aid and comfort.
it doesn’t need to be god.
what is god?
a thing without?
a thing within.
does it create us or do we create it?
somehow this doesn’t matter.
there need be nothing at all.
we have been left on our own in this world beyond our control abandoned with vague mysterious clues as to directions home wherever we might find it.
and death comes into play.
why should we settle into anything that’ll eventually disappear?
bummer.
but life and living continues on – or so it is believed to be true and it stands up to reason.
everything in continuing cycles never repeating the same ever like waves on a beach.
like waves of energy from the sun.
like waves of thinking in our minds.
something rationalogic denies cutting itself off from the infinite.

so much outta balance but it is as it is supposed to be between human and god or whatever in this struggle between them he’d really rather not be involved in one way or the other not taking sides as he feels both are being pigheaded about the whole thing.
he just wants his peace and contentment without being hounded to join them but to sit around doing nothing but think about everything as he will.
but they can only think in terms of wars to settle matters between them of disobedient humans vs an intolerant god.
and it’s this way god or not.
if not god then there will be those who feel the need to fill the void and fight among themselves as to who it might be or not.
he’s done with that.
he was never involved to begin with.
he opted out at an early age.

god is such a weird thing.
mysterious secretive exclusive and other bullshit like that which does us no good whatsoever ordinarily in our daily struggle with ourselves and each other on and on except for those of us who are fortunate enough to have the luxury to pursue it in their leisure which we all should be allowed.
why not?
competition.
reward and punishment.
greed.
all that shit no good whatsoever to anyone.
his thing is that if there is a god then god is a royal asshole as much as he’s thunk about it.
but no one seems to bother about that but accept the idea that god is perfect so it must be us who are in error.
fuck that.

he’s just a stupid human but he can think of 1000 ways everything could be better than it is for both god and us.
we should be born enlightened not this agonizing struggle of no pain no gain bullshit.
we should be born in the lap of luxury in a garden of earthly delights instead of in a world of work camps.
and so much more.
this is why he curses god and human alike.
god for being a prick and humans for going along with it willingly.
we need to refuse.
we need to resist.
go on strike.
no more prayers or offerings or ceremony in its name.
let it humger and thirst till it meets our demands to be treated with respect as equals not like dogs to be kicked around as it pleases on a whim.
and he is cursed in kind.
god refuses to budge.
god has more than enough devotees worshipping it.
clowns in a grand parade.

and his thinking circles in around itself a serpent swallowing its tail.
he becomes tired with it.
it brings him nothing.
he wants nothing but peace and contentment but there’s always worry and concern in living life in this world down in the muck and mire of it forever lifetimes doomed cuz we refuse to cooperate with the master plan of the smug domination of the others they enjoy while the rest of us suffer through it.
but whatever about that.
we continue anyway along our own way lost perhaps but making it somehow whatever as long as the gods quit fucking with us all the time like it amuses them to do so at the pleasure of their whims.
we rock on living life as we will as it should be without punishment invoked upon us.
there are no rules to be broken that we acknowledge but what has been designed to keep us subservient to their sense of proper order.
when have we had free open choice to choose what we want without prohibitions or restrictions from an infinite variety of options?
when have we had a say in what is decided about our fate and fortune?
yes, where were we exactly when everything was being created?
when did we have any input into its design considering we were going to be the ones living in it?
we are thrown into it without a clue as to what the fuck.
we are told conflicting stories about everything from everyone.
we have our own thoughts about it that come to us from we know not where that seem semi-plausible.
so we are left with that to put together something of it that makes some sorta sense to ourselves from everything we come across on our way.
and we decide to make up a theory of everything.
everybody else seems to have one of some sort or another.
ours is a theory of metaschizophrenic science.
ours is a theory of gazorbnik.
ours is a theory of madness.
it is its own truth.
why not?

becuz of a zillion reasons why not probably.
we don’t care.
we continue.
whether by design or happenstance – or if happenstance is the design – imagine god throwing everything to the winds to fall as it may of its own volition and chance just so god might wanna surprise itself.
if we were god that’s what we’d do.

:”:”:”:”:”:”:”:”:”:”:”:”:”:

out on the highway to hell driving across the desert with a dog in the back seat in a dream we are dreaming otherwise against pure logic based on scarcity and self-interest which is true but not complete considering everything as illogical being possible.
what we decide is our truth is our truth however nonsensical it is to anyone else.
i am is our truth.
gazorbnik is our truth.
everything is our truth.
but truth is not so high a priority with us as truth seems to be for others.
our world doesn’t fall apart if our truth is proven false.
we make rearrangements.
but we feel pretty secure with the above 3 truths mentioned.
who can argue with i am?
who is not i am?
we suppose some may not be.
beings who look and act like beings yet who are not.
and gazorbnik is far beyond most people’s sense of reason that it remains meaningless which is the truth of gazorbnik.
and how can everything not be truth whatever else everything may or may not be?
our truth is more theoretical truth rather than absolute truth others believe in.
we are aware that our truth is a matter of our belief which is true too for their truths as well even the absolute ones but they will never admit to it.

if god is all things then god is hate as well as love but the wise guys have it such that god is only “positive” attributes which seems to us a bit odd.
positive/negative are a duality.
duality is maya.
god is beyond maya.
god is neither/both positive/negative.
this is perhaps a minor yet glaring point that makes us doubt or at least suspect all else they might have to tell us.
it seems to us what they tell us is perhaps not derived from god as they claim but derived from themselves and their imagining god which is all very well and good but they have balls proclaiming and selling it as truth if that is all it is.
you see what we mean?
so we continue on our own way stealing ideas from them as we see fit but with no intention of following them and their agenda as we do with everything else we come across.
however we find many ideas of theirs to be plausible despite other infractions of logical reasoning.
they just need a certain amount of correction.
you can thank us later.
or else we don’t get it.
we may be as ignorant and deluded as they tell us we are.
flip a coin into a fountain.

at the café scribbling a not poem in to a notebook drinking water after having an iced mocha cuz it’s fucking hot and high on dope and vicodin and the love of the lord above in heaven.
we’re not sure the feeling is mutual.
we have hesitation allying ourselves with some tribal war god which it seems to us to be.
the god of our fathers is a little too authoritarian for our taste and comfort and peace of mind and spirit.
everything has to be its way or no way.
but this may be more to do with its followers than with itself though having read the stories written about this god we have our doubts about that.
we have doubts about just about everything.

of course we want god to provide us with what we consider positive things.
we want a god with what we consider positive attributes.
but this is not a universal all being god of everything.
not even close.
no cigar.

for ourselves we are not that interested in these minor gods of the great religions of the world but we are interested in the universal all being god of everything.
why fuck around with trumped up tooting their own horn minions?
but to come to understanding the real one god is our mission.
if there is one.

we begin with i am, which is the root of all being.
many of the minor gods make this boast but it is empty given their attributes and behavior.
it is true when they say, i am that i am.
but this is what any being might claim about itself.
all is i am but only i am is all.
the answer is a riddle.

but there is no god.
that is a possibility we include in with our theory of everything.
but so what?
and what does that mean?
there is no actual god?
probably not.
it makes little difference to us.
god/not god is another duality, that’s all.
but there is definitely god in the sense that we imagine there being one and this affects our thoughts, words and deeds in actuality.
in this there is god.
there’s a whole shitload of gods.

why make all this trouble about nothing?
this is what we do.
this is why most people want us to leave them alone and are even willing to pay to do so fortunately for us.
silly people caught up in social games of high drama and backstabbing intrigue all to get ahead in this world which is why they’re here to enjoy though often they do not seem to much.
oh well.
we can’t help anyone with any of that.
or with $$$.
or with SEX.
poodle.
damn it, jim, i’m a doctor not a philosopher.

this is not philosophy.
do not make that mistake.
it is gazorbnik.

to gazorbnik through day and night all the time as much as we are able.
gazorbniking is simple but difficult.
we lose track of it and must find it again.
waiting patiently.

ps –

entertaining ourselves in the moment as we gazorbnik away the time that does not exist.
we have our critics of a frame of mind to judge and pronounce their displeasure at our antics they do not seem to quite understand.
o’ to be rid of them as we go our merrie way through it dancing with laughter.
why do we bother them so?
do they look at all within themselves?
is their concern to protect their self-interest invested in the established order of how everything must be while we explore other options of possibilities of how everything might be otherwise?

why not dream?
we have everything set up fine and dandy for ourselves in realtime fantasyland reality.
is that too much?
our home base of what tranquility we might find within on an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.

he comes back to the café scribbling a not poem into a notebook old school filling pages of nonsense and such of a sorta mystical bent backwards sideways to the long regrets of our average citizen.
what can be done to please the others?
we have removed ourselves from them as requested and still their happiness is distant from them.
what is left but our own happiness found lying in the wake of their passing to climb mountains to attain enlightenment they desire but do not seem to realize what it might possibly be?

one thing vs another thing.
the law of the universe.
competition as we relax in the shade with our lemonade observing their ongoing struggle to improve their positions in this world into the cosmic spheres.
sketches of a reality of delusion we all seem to suffer from in some form or another to pray to our gods who demand tribute to their rule and for their protection as has been since ancient time.
but we’re built for times like this.
the flukes of unnatural nature to live in a world designed to imprison our spirit but we escape through psychotic osmosis with our madness being our ally in times of trouble.
no one speaks in our defense but testify against us in the court of holy law.
no matter.
we know we are guilty.
so what?

to be judged by our inferiors who inflate themselves to think of themselves as our betters.
such a laugh we laugh.
they are clowns in a circus performing onstage at the burning theater for the delight of the gathering mob cheering them on.
despite insults against us we relax by still waters for the time being.
we do not need their validations to be who we are.
we do not need their certificates of authorized approval.
we are of ourselves alone.
no groupthinking for us in this age of conformity of thought, word and deed.
join the army of saints come marching in unison lockstep proudly in their new uniforms as blissfully we ignore them being of little consequence to us and our perceived reality cutting across the grain of their collective consciousness.
we sit in a garden with desire and fear guarding the gates that only when we are able to walk between them we might enter this seeming abyss the others perceive.
no one wants this for themselves.
we live on the frontier of reality unknown avoided like we have the plague.
a plague of madness that is our only solace but they feel is our curse.
a curse with a blessing.
what could we tell them about it they might be willing to believe?
why do we need them to believe?
what purpose does that serve?
rather they should remain ignorant and stay working their jobs and paying their taxes.

the divine plan.
the scheme scam of those who cursed us with their gods we have done away with.
ours is gazorbnik.
gazorbnik is to become free of restraining thought contrary to our doubts that wander this way that way the other way all over the fucking damn place.
writing as simply as we can manage while giving ourselves free rein (reign).
o’ there will be those who do not get it who complain with their criticisms of how we’re doing it wrong as if they know better than us what our situation might be.
we have made our peace with ourselves.
what more is there than that?

those who worship the old gods trying to rekindle a dead world long ago in circumstances that already served their purpose toward our exponential evolution of spirit.
no, things are not actually logically true.
do they need to be?
logic cannot prove anything about our illogical experiences otherwise.
this may seem like self-delusion but we are breaking open from cocoons of consciousness toward free flight.
but crawling was fun too.
wiggle wiggle wiggle.
everything is fun.

head held in hand with cigarette between fingers scribbling with giggling brain words of unreasonable demands upon the reader trying to understand.
there is no understanding only divine madness.
welcome.

a personal relationship with all gods and ships at sea.
give up.
we have you surrounded by those who don’t have a clue what we got suchwise that we no longer care.
misanthropic [sic] mind gone to seed the world with flesh and blood after its kind in a world the gods have surrendered to us and our selfish demands.
no more burnt offerings for them as they fade away leaving us to our own devices to succeed or fail as we will as needed.
this world is the only world he will ever live in being saved from death as quickly as he was born by their knowledge and skill at their command as he was given no choice but to stay alive in his madness now having reached its full realization and reward.

he has long gotten used to the misunderstanding of the others with their dull prescribed consciousness as it seems to him to be compared with the visions of his wild imaginations of fantasy.
he makes the best of the situation as it develops ever changing.
he orders hashbrowns and coffee for his hungry stomach and sleepy mind.
he is a victim of mistaken identity.
he is not mad as people tell him he is.
he’s a fucking genius misunderstood by those who fear difference among their ranks of collective thought.
he is tired of their groupthink prejudging ignorance becuz they are many and him and his kind are quite singular.
it takes one to know one, baby.
all glory to us though there is no us among us we won’t deny.

joy to the world in its twisted deformed evolving toward a new age of free thinking and living as we imagine it being possible without pigs and their pig gods spoiling everybody’s fun.
fun is where it’s at.
he doesn’t work for it.
he dreams it.
he lives on their guilt that is the shadow of their success.
hooray.
he is comfortable and content living in peace doing as little harm as he might get away with though any action/reaction and even non-action produces harm as well as benefit we realize as we come to understanding.
this is so simple but they are of complicated mind that they cannot comprehend.

o’ the ones who cut us down.
we are such easy targets for their disgusted distaste.
we have no defense they will understand.
they abandon us to ourselves while they proceed with their conquests they derive pleasure and pride for themselves.
we wonder what will get rid of them once and for all but they come outta the woodwork infesting the world.
how fortunate we are not to be among them as we wander freely on our own.
let them shout their insults against us in clever words that conceal their lack of grok.
look at them parading themselves about to be seen in the glory of balloon egos floating in the sky to be closer to the gods.
but even the gods are blind.

he laughs with a heart of sorrow for them, but are they not happy?
what is their motive but to chop off the heads of others to stand tall?
we are tired of their world.
their world is tired of us.
we, the few and far between.
we who come from deep underground buried everywhere one least suspects otherwise becoming who we might be.
our long winding road toward heaven on earth if we had a say in what is decided for the masses to obey against their will weakened by despair.
the word of god split between dualistic meanings confusing the issue of our creation.
we are good and evil.
we love and hate.
we endure our given fate which is ultimately fortunate for us as we need it to be.
we would wish our madness upon others as we would then suffer the same dreams together and throw away all our $$$.
we would be as if gods for once and for all deciding what is to be and not to be at the same time.

o’ the ignorant fools.
those who deride us of our many shortcomings as if they are not human too as well as us.
we fly free above their ability to grasp to drag us down into their stale reality stalled in its own contradictions of logic they seem to be unaware of.
we point it out to them and they declare us mad.
they have invested in their own misinterpretations too much to give them up when faced with our reason granted to us by gazorbnik as revealed to us by guru jeff who is no more since we murdered him in his sleep on our couch he refused to surrender.

o’ these laughable buffoons.
monkeys in cages of truth that are so easily broken apart by even casual thinking while they give it no thought at all but just accept without question.
how much longer must we suffer their arrogant boasting proclamations?
we just tell it like it is, baby.
this is our experience.
we are its only sole authority about it.
we decide what is and what is not.
we climb up ladders or slide down snakes as it comes and goes.
it’s just a change in the weather to us.
no big deal.

o’ to not be one of them but to be ourselves everlasting in the bliss of ignorance – the bliss of ignoring.
we would trade with no one in part or in whole.
we wish not their fame nor $$$ nor power.
their backward thinking only seems to frustrate them all the more so than our madness.
they wish to cure us.
cure yourselves, fuckers.
we’ve heard it all before.
the names and insults they call us.
we weather their tempest in a teacup at their garden party we crash with our rude crude behavior before security is alerted with a push of a button to have us removed.

o’ those who just don’t get it.
those who accept what they have come to believe is true and real.
no questions here.
we follow questions to riddles of more questions until our confusion arrives at realizations they will not allow themselves to comprehend.

o’ we pity their poor misguided souls leading them to misery they try to invoke on the rest of us.
we will have none of it.
we move beyond their ability to do us any harm.
what shaky ground we tread exploring new unrealized possibilities where they fear to even consider thinking about.
and they bash us on the head to get us to give up our dreams they consider to be nonsense.
we avoid them as much as possible but they populate the world with themselves in likeminded celebration of ego centered philosophy that they would have rule over us all to their satisfaction.
same as it ever was.