misfit love

document 33 –

our dear one beloved:
we try again with this monkey business perplexing our brains with strange insane injunctions contrary to the moment seeming eternally inspired and inspiring to the irrationalogic cause and effect momentum building blocks of new ideas that don’t make much sense indeed.

and hullabaloo like this going nowhere. it’s not a trick insofar as we are able to determine. what would the trick become to be? a bee in a bonnet like an old hairy sonnet? come as you are or don’t come at all. leave it alone.

the clown wonders about the nature of 0 while typing not p0em about our theory of everything, and our report to the committee. 333
evolving along lines we have not yet discussed so far as it may seem to be our parking lot in life as everything becomes more vague to us as we are used to as we have come to like it resounding around us trumpets blaring and drums banging off we go into our own parade. addicted to speed, if we please. down on our knees before the erotic nature of the beast on aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah…

kitty in sunlight on the windowsill in the morning as the clown awakens continuing not p0em awhile for his amusement thinking 2+2=cow by the tender light of ongoing gazorbnik waves in cycles repeating never the same through different configurations of possibilities.
twisting turning our words to get the proper gist of it. it is it. so be it.

coffee, toke, cigarette.
another day in heck – not quite heaven, not quite hell. between-wise, like a chicken sandwich. how droll it may seem to those not paying attention, those excitable folks dashing for it here, there, everywhere, like butterflies never settling anywhere for long.
the clown has settled into the ordinary commonplace as much as he can. the excitement and celebration of the banal – so lacking in originality as to be obvious and boring. complete into itself. to be ignored being neither good nor evil, away from the manufactured division and strife provoked among us. we are them.

we are true.
we are real.
it’s a matter of what we wish to believe. many believe contrary to others. they love war and will think up any excuse, but it’s all for $$$. forget honor, forget patriotism, and forget all the rest of it. we are on a mission, a mission to die. that is our sole stake in the matter. but this many refuse to believe that they have been and are still being duped, and will continue to be so. is it all hopeless? what else do we do with all these people with nothing to do but cause trouble on their own? organize them to cause trouble for someone else in faraway lands. don’t think about it more than that. don’t think about how all our hands are dirty and bloody, as well as the $$$ in our pockets.
oh well.

sometimes flying. sometimes crashing. sometimes sitting beneath a tree eating pistachios, flaming wings of desire spread high above our heads. what could this mean? the clown is bleeding colors. he hears a silent screaming in his head outta his mind. mind us, or watch out. endless beginnings and endless ends, serpents swallowing each other’s tails until kingdom come. might they then be set free? what would the universe ultimately be if every part of it was ordered to be free? the clown is wary of what the answer might be – must be. true chaos bringing itself into unconscious nonexistence – ±0? we would not know anything. we could not count anything. we could not perceive anything, if there is anything to perceive. could we think? think with what? our brains are sparkling particle dust. perhaps not even that. oh dear, what have we done?

everywhere everywhen we look we ultimately see nothing. but between nothing and ourselves lies a zillion worlds and more. the best and worst of all possible worlds. zing. speakeasy worlds hidden from the public and worlds grandly open for business. worlds in the light and worlds in the dark, worlds that are 50% gray. every world we might imagine for ourselves.
the clown is not that much interested in nirvana and the like. it’s boring. been there, done that – all in a hat squashed quite flat when the elephant sat.

rotation. in/out on/off 1/0 and all the rest of duality. find the middle and live a comfortable life filled with joys and sorrows. or go live a life on the edge as far as you are willing and/or need to go. we’ll watch. we watch the world. we sing and dance. we fall down. we laugh.
all beginning all ending everywhere everywhen we may find ourselves being here now. trifles of consciousness like snowflakes in a blizzard. yikes.

who would have guessed we’d find our way? over the hills around the bend outta our minds. it’s easy to get lost which may be the best possible thing to happen – or the worst.
we shall see what occurs in this world of past and future we dream about in the present. as if any of this is true. is it false? does it need to be one or the other? logic tells us it does need be one or the other. there is no middle ground with logic. does logic tell us the whole truth? perhaps not.
the land where when parallel lines meet. but even that is logical if we follow the logic of it toward its end and new beginning. that’s part of the problem, if there is a problem which we don’t believe there is. nope.

the clown is full of a feeling he has forgotten something he needed to do today. if so, he can’t seem to think of it. probably when it’s too late it will come to his mind. that’s the way it is sometimes.

the clown wonders and tries to determine somehow if he feels anything. what is feeling? can feeling be perceived by our senses? our internal senses perhaps maybe. what is the evidence that feelings exist? do they exist? yes/no/maybe.

the same old lies we are told from when we were young before we knew better. we were defenseless against their attacks on our minds. our minds were open and fluid. no more, baby. they did away with that long ago with their auto-programmed propaganda machines disguised in human form.

after reading on beyond zebra the clown knew the truth of their secret shenanigans. they were not telling us everything. they stopped at z. everything else was pronounced and dismissed as only his imagination. he knew better. but no one else seemed to know or even think about it. he was/is alone. hooray. no one bothered him much. he lived a life where/when he could dream with few interruptions until he came to be here now of all the damn things crawling clamoring in his head.

quick as a monkey in a hat into your pocket while humping your leg twirl around to face embarrassed to become what had been forgotten by now judging by the standards of today erupting gushing chunks of vomit from the tv onto the floor for the dogs to lick up faces during the attack on common sense until no one knows anymore about which witch is what. does that matter? it would seem not at all. stop on a dime in a bum’s pocket who had forgotten she had it. she keeps dreaming this world into existence. one of those. we are them.

the clown coughs up sea monkeys of love swimming in tight formations spelling out coded messages for the observant eye. the clown no longer much cares. the clown decides the answer is that he does not exist. it makes everything work for everyone else otherwise concerned. but to state that he does not exist does not mean he does not exist, if you know what we mean. of course you know. you’re intelligent and resourceful enough not to be taken in by such absurdities, but to remember that 2+2=cow. and again the same applies. dig?

things are skinny – the clown don’t know where he’ll land on the roulette wheel of life in these lower dimensions in the bottomless pit of a gravity well – you know?
of course you do. chips and dip and ginger ale – a smoke.
the dada-ananda was once played the part of a wandering milkman who serviced a young married woman, jane dobbs, making her become pregnant. about 9 months later jr “bob” dobbs was born. coincidence? we don’t think so.
strange magick happening from that point on toward infinity or being hit by a bus whichever comes 1st.
the thing of good and evil distracts us away from our main mission – the reconstruction and upkeep of the project with its single purpose, the object. the object is the project as the project is the object. is that simple enough?
hear and obey.

the clown becomes tired. he’s been awake most of the  day so far. good night.

 

some toast?

document 18 –

our dear one beloved:
hey there.
woke. everybody in the house asleep. the clown typing out not p0em for his own amusement to discover what he might be thinking at the moment. it is not anything like truth. there are others to prove truth or not, that is their job it would seem. the clown feels he is being watched.
nephilim, and other mysteries of the world at large. but we don’t worry about that neither na-na-na. the clown begins to become sleepy but he just woke up from sleeping all day. but he feels he doesn’t have much to stay awake for. it’s all the same good news or bad news, depending upon our inclination towards events right or wrong. pothead. think what you want, or think what you’re told to think by someone of supposed authority. it doesn’t matter which by now – the end.

or the beginning of time itself like nobody’s business it seems to us happening all the time. words are useless. more coffee, a toke, a cigarette. remembering orange sunshine quick as a bunny chased through a meadow of daisies by a pack of hungry feral dogs. eat and be eaten – eaten alive. cumshot honey buns, let’s dance. 101% of our time taken over by the corporations taken over by machines. we are obsolete, we are to be eliminated – another rung on the evolutionary ladder passed by. hooray for us, except for the fact that the planet is almost all dead. is it possible to eliminate all life? micro-organisms survive in the oddest deadliest places, as do some macro-organisms also and such – and cyborgs perhaps? certainly robots – robot cockroaches.
isn’t the future be wonderful?

±0 on a scale of infinity encompassing everything everywhere everywhen with all possible locations being here now imagining itself conscious of the fact of its own existence and experiencing.
or not.
a flash of an instant that lasts forever – ΑΩ. no expectations, no disappointments.
we wake up. was it a dream?
is this a dream?
pick a card, any card.
be careful.
and why does everything end with questions?
the earth as computer, life as software, and we as a self-replicating mutating virus seeking to head off into outer space.
where does that get us?
but it is a possibility.

positive/negative thinking. pointing out the minute discrepancies of logic and reason involved in the investigations into the absurd finding no one is home anymore. we’ve been bought out for pennies, while the rich receive stacks of billions. that’s how the deal is made – the deal between winners and losers.

lovely monkeys chirping their delight without knowing if they might have a clue. specific unhinged albatross eaters swinging across the side of a river in france.

what other funny bunny mischief might we imagine?
do we need to believe with everything stuck in our head?
the clow0\n’s head’s been ripped off and dropped in his lap.
what a sight to behold this early morning.
fat black cat chewing on the oxygen hose, smack that cat on the nose, but if we were a mouse we wouldn’t stand a chance; and everything happening onstage at the burning theater.

the clown thinks about all the problems in the world and how very deeply rooted they are that they will never change cuz they are not problems to those in power but work as benefits as they act to keep everyone else down while a few climb to the top over them fighting every step of the way.
egypt.
integrationalized handy haystack.
there is a deep seriousness around the world that drags us all down with it.
who can be happy?
happiness is thoughtcrime.

if that is how we view happiness as something to be possessed – haha. who doesn’t wanna be happy? all the people who are miserable now. why should they change? they got what works for them.

if we do not compete, we do not evolve – guru jeff.

however, if we don’t need to evolve, because we are already perfect as we are, why would anyone need to compete, nor should they be allowed to. it would fall outta favor for choosing a mate. but choosing a mate may fall outta favor itself first. yes, the future is now.

you gotta see it for yourself before you believe it [NWO]. when you realize it exists only a moment – an infinitesimal instant, and even that may not exist as we know it.
it’s medication time.
the clown settles into a groove thing, but perhaps ready for a nap soon. it’s a holiday on ice with a dawning of understanding in such beautiful vibrant rainbow of colors inside our dark skulls]\. dysfunctional dada (deliberate irrationality) shouting at itself in a mirror on tv comic news shows in retrospective repetitions of fake world history ramblings in our electro-chemical brains shocked to attention. attention for what but for a command. do what you are told. be patient, then hurry. get it done. the project is the object. the project must be continually engaged by the object (or vice versa) or else nothing happens, ever.

who will be master of the world with all the wealth and power whoever it is will ultimately gain? but wouldn’t having all make all ultimately worthless? yes, that is the game they play – find the lady, find the lady.
happiness is the pursuit of happiness – guru jeff.

everything changing, but the project is the object. understand that and understand everything – or not. as everything seems to be getting tighter. clamp down on the masses, buncha dimwitted rubes. buried in moments from when the clown was paying attention, if ever or never.
turn on the magick. watch it spin around around.

a few days later –
the clown sits back and closes his eyes awhile to feel it all within himself and to reach back to the source of being and becoming. this calms him. breathing. letting all thought go on this way of the pursuit of happiness knowing it is never to be gained but to be always sought. this seems obvious but somehow we miss it. whatever.

he is not complaining, much. he observes and reports to the committee who do nothing probably, not even reading it. what’s the point of continuing to write it but to help him think as he might not be able to otherwise? he is either ahead of the game or very far behind. he is not concerned.

the next day –
what is nothing? is there infinite nothingness? or does infinity not make sense in this case? is there a difference between 0 and infinity if there is only nothing?
but what if there is infinite something? something that has no beginning nor end as such, though it is composed of all beginning and all end. a continuous existence. there is never nothing? but everything is nothing is everything. words are useless.

and there is no scale. a universe on a pinhead, or more huge than anything, or quite smaller than anything. all are the same to us within it.

then suddenly…

oops, did it again

document 17 –

ΑΩ

our dear one beloved:
everything compressed into a singularity or some such which doesn’t matter much
cuz people are living and dying on the streets
everywhere we see
though we tend to look away from that sight
cuz it gives us a fright at
what happens if you don’t got $$$
so it keeps the masses working hard
cuz you don’t get to just walk away and gaze at the sun
and have all sortsa fun when your life’s undone.
how does it feel?

the clown typing continuing not p0em that doesn’t really matter to most people’s lives anyway. are they awoke, or is he? it could go either way it would seem.
the clown himself claims nothing of the kind being the dumb fuck that he is. let the others all brag. he’ll hang out like an old hag. he doesn’t salute the flag. everything is a drag.

everyone wants him under control or he will be controlled, just like everyone else the same.
the powers that be have their designs in place.
a docile population obedient to the slightest command from above from those closer to god than they are.
it’s a joke – a serious joke.

older woman in space age fabric coat walking back from the store every day at about this time smoking a cigarette.
the clown decides to smoke a cigarette too.

what is a joke is that the clown is a joke, but no one is laughing. it’s not that kinda joke. it’s a joke with a gun pointed at your head. you’re gonna be dead – at last. do it motherfucker, the clown says while gazing up at a cloud passing by.
but, nothing.

low level consciousness declared about those of us who won’t obey. it’s their choice. but it’s our choice to force then into that choice. but we make $$$, so how are we to blame?
we’re smarter than that. we have a hat. we know where it’s at. it’s all down beneath the ground not making a sound.

±0 flashing on/off causing everything else to exist.
oh boy.
why this is to be we are not entirely sure.
perhaps we will never know but it will remain an eternal mystery.
they tell us god created everything with love.
the love of torture it would seem from the evidence if we observe it correctly.
god, the ultimate power over everything.
god, the ultimate oppressor of everything.
and/or those who make themselves into god – in its image.
a god prone to fits of rage.
the clown naps.

awakening.
unsupervised homeless lunatics packed in the shelters at night with their dogs kicked out to the streets at dawn. how would you like to be one of them? it could happen. why? why not? both are true among other possibilities arranged for your pleasure.
imagine someone who needs to be constantly appeased or it’s off with your heads.
game shows on tv are some people’s reality – millions of them.
the clown always begins to doubt when others are perfectly sure they know what’s what.
we are better than everybody else. 909
we keep the bums around, but chase them off once in a while if they get too thick, to show everyone else how much we don’t give a shit about the losers, so keep working and obeying orders or this could be you down and out on easy street.

is it really all’s fair in love and war?
if that is the case then we are in love with everyone at once and for all. we are happy with this decision. how could we not be? everyone’s a winner. don’t give up. help is on the way.
but what could help us now but to have about 6 billion people die off this planet. that’s what the elite seem to be preparing themselves for. fuck the rest of us.

remember, the world is a dream we are all having together, as our theory of everything holds on every odd numbered tuesday afternoons around teatime.
nevermind the gin.
the clown has a hit and more coffee and a cigarette, by golly. and gazorbnik don’t mean nothing. it is neither for nor against, up nor down, in nor out, here nor there, now nor then, etcetera. gazorbnik cannot possibly exist in a universe of duality. it must exist elsewhere that is here now, or not.
it’s too complicated for the mind to follow. we become dizzy and fall into the bottomless pit – falling falling falling forever. but how would we tell that we are falling or not? maybe everything would look to us to be perfectly normal. but what is perfectly normal today in the future? it keeps changing. yup, it sure does.

but hold on a moment, if existence and nonexistence is considered to be two more opposing states of a dualistic universe, then wouldn’t gazorbnik also neither exist nor not exist? perhaps so. we’ll have to ask the wizard the next time she comes around which isn’t very often but often enough to settle dilemmas of reason and ilk such as this question we would ask her.

everything becomes mixed up. it is difficult to believe and/or doubt gazorbnik. it seems so much foolish nonsense. there are many many other things we should attend to but it’s too overwhelming right now. maybe tomorrow. maybe a tomato.
we soon feel ourselves covered with twinkling dust on our heads and shoulders that isn’t really real. we gaze and look for silver linings, but it keeps getting darker it seems to those without an eye to see anything hopeful getting themselves in the way of our vision. against all their amplified yammering babbling noise we are silent – or silenced. so we talk to ourselves among ourselves about silly things like, what exactly does it mean when gazorbnik is found to be meaningless?
we get ourselves twisted into tangled knots only for the sword to separate. a sword of justice? haha, held by who? who among us should wield it?
the strong push their way to the front, the wise quickly scatter, the dull and stupid of the rest of us await orders.
or something like that.

when what makes one happy is the pursuit of happiness is when one has found the way to it. it is it. the object is the project, that is our goal. understand?

probably not.
oh well, there’s other fish to fry. will any of this be readable in the future? will it be even more gibberish than it already is? but that’s not the point. the point is the clown needs something to occupy his mind awhile and typing not p0em does the trick. nothing more or less than that. 1:11

pet the kitty.
damnation, it always seems to happen this way for whatever reason we cannot be troubled about for now, but when is it not now? but we have difficulty keeping track of time. hummmmm… so we invent satellites to help us telling us the exact moment as it is technically possible to do so. but it is always off by some miniscule infinitesimal unit of time too fast to be measured. is that how the trick is done? there’s nothing here now at all? is it all fake? are we fake? in a sense we are, but in another sense we are not.

it’s a trick, a hoax, a fake – perhaps. does it need to be? seems it would be more trouble than it’s worth to create and sustain, and for what? every answer to that question is, perhaps. perhaps this, perhaps that, perhaps the other thing, etcetera. the minds of possibility move into all directions at once. ding dong the world is dead, the wicked world, the world is dead, ding dong the wicked world is dead.

the light is bright, and when it’s turned on we scatter like cockroaches into dark corners with shame and fear we inherit from generations of abuse of power. but having power itself is abuse no matter what they try to convince us otherwise. power to the people is powerlessness, when one does not have power over others. fat chance of that ever happening. there are always those who feel they know better and/or are mightier than the rest. in a sense of its own rationale that is true.

power that uplifts rather than keeps down. power that heals. power that enriches more than just the few. what silly games we play among ourselves destroying the earth until it is unlivable as a result.
oh well.

the nazi/zionist illuminati reptilian alien overlords and their human minions who have done this to us, enslaving us to dig for minerals and metals for themselves. but of course we meet them 1/2 way by our nature reinforced by nurture and indoctrination to obey.
blah blah blah, who cares?

not us.

everything is going our way

document 8 –

our dear one beloved:

when whispers roar in your mind as the day is broken upon us living our continuing lives, the clown’s predominant and perhaps only remaining question is, what is death like? but he will find out more in due time. he is tentatively curious and almost eager. what is left to learn of this life in this world that remotely interests him anymore? he does not know it all, nor has he experienced it all, nor had the time or inclination, but he mostly understands the basic gist of it – $$$.
11:11

coffee toke cigarette.
but he dreams and has visions of another life on another similar plane sideways to this one. $$$ still is its main motivation factor. everything else is nonsense, as guru jeff often told us, while guru jeff didn’t have a penny to his holy/unholy names.
is $$$ a crime?

$$$ is a tool that ultimately ideally may benefit all to have what they need and want without outside interference but just a common willingness for free equitable exchange everyone can profit from in their own ways.
the LOVE of $$$ is an entirely different tale to tell. it fucks up everything. but the greedy we shall always have with us, deal with it.
so far we have only been able to replace one group of greedy motherfuckers with another group of greedy motherfuckers down throughout history.
it’s all one can do to stay outta their way which no longer seems possible now with their world rapidly covering controlling consuming the earth, as it has been written.
___

keep the x in xmas. x – an unknown variable, perhaps unknowable. we seek it above all else. what is it? how wealthy would one be possessing it? how much power does it hold?
let x=x.
these and other questions to puzzle over.
the clown is not puzzled, the clown understands why this must be, and/or not be.
it’s simple, yet complicated to arrive at.
so there. may it serve you well, as you serve it well.

later another day or so.
idiot – one’s own, private person, layperson, common person, assumed to be mentally diminished and/or ill-educated, …
id – it.
yokels.

take out the trash, throw it on the heap of oblivion and walk away forever. that’s how you do it, baby.
a changing of the guard. a changing of the tide. a changing of the moon. sitting on a beach watching the waves, a swig of vodka passed around the circle. the machine everyone knows as nancy laughs, we feel she laughs at us. does she know how this might end? the joke perhaps is on us.

we exist on multiple levels it seems to us all experiencing at the same time. for now here we are, we are entertained but very much concerned regarding everything possible spinning out threads of living life to its full extent from no beginning to no end with everything in-between on countless continuums like waves on a beach.

3 of 6 –
so many people around him he knows suffering and he can do nothing for them it seems as they do nothing to help themselves. around around we go, ripples on a still pond, but what is a still pond but a mirror for narcissus? the eternal search of self for self, captured in the amber of a moment for eternity when nothing comes to an end and without beginning and blah blah blah along other mystical metaphysical lines radiating into one another in the midst of realization and the like.

do we need to continue? no. but we do anyway for our own sense of madness evoked from the backdoors of our minds into absolute consciousness, and we got away with it, haha. looking into the depths of the abyss to understand what’s happening. we are trusted with secrets. we were given a bill we cannot pay. we are doomed by our nature and nurture, and indoctrination. there is nothing left to us of ourselves anymore. we are given no choice but to seek the mysteries. this is the way many experience it for themselves. is this a test of our stupidity?

while we are practicing for enlightenment, whatever it might be, everything is taken from us. the clown knows he’s a useless fuck anymore but still he smiles to himself with uncertain mirth at the moments proceeding onward as if without a care to be forgotten.
wondering about the true base of reality unfolding constantly eating away at our brains. what a bargain.
what a thing to forget. the clown fights with himself always on the losing end of anything he is presented with already in progress before he knows it. isn’t god wonderful?
is everybody kidding with this shit? upstairs the lights blink out, downstairs the party’s just beginning.
light cannot dispel the darkness, the darkness cannot dispel the light. we live in both worlds as with all other duality yin yang thing. the clown laughs.
he sleeps.

awakening for the zillionth time it seems to become almost a useless endeavor. in tv ads we wake with happy smiley faces ready to go and face the day in a dream.
coffee toke cigarette.
relax. breathe. to remind oneself we are cosmic beings acting in a play upon the stage at the burning theater. we are so gracefully clumsy, foolishly wise. to experience all we might experience experiencing this experience whatever way it turns itself this way, that way, the other way, etcetera.

all that does not really happen adding up to ±0. who can ever tell which side of it we’re on? it’s not as easy as it might seem to us at first. first we must understand what it is we do not know. that’s the hard part. what’s easiest is to do nothing. everything becomes intensely simple, though nothing is really any sorta answer.
we don’t need answers for what we are doing, if we knew what we are doing – haha. but it’s not that funny either. something somewhere in the middle where it’s all happening. few know. fewer yet understand.

why?
why not?

a world where when nothing is forbidden and everything is permitted. square one. from that point on for centuries we fight it out amongst ourselves about how the world is to be. by force we make rules to be followed, or else.
there’s $$$ to be made, that’s the important thing to many, whereas many others do without and watch. it’s a game we play in simulated real-time.

but we imagine worlds for ourselves each to one’s own liking and temperament. there’s a reason we are all here whatever it may be – or not.
there are those who guide the ways to other planes among us whoever has the sense to recognize who they may be out of all the multitude of faces. take care with who you spend your $$$.

we wanted everything for free. it was made clear to us this is not the case; it is not the time back to when we roamed the earth free. rules and $$$ are in place now. those with $$$ make the rules. we have no rules we can think of we want to be enforced. we still dream of a world where no rules is possible without force, where force is neutralized by common will and understanding.
oh well.

nothing works as it should. everything is broken in one form or another. but the project must continue, that is the object for those of understanding.
knowledge can be communicated one to another, understanding however cannot. one might understand everything while knowing nothing.
words create far more confusion than understanding, yet confusion can lead one to understanding.
knowledge is facts. understanding is meaning.

it’s what we each put together for ourselves that is reality to each one of us. it seems silly to fight about what it all means. but that is not what we fight about really. we fight about $$$. it’s always about $$$ no matter if we realize or not and believe perhaps instead to be on a mission from the gods. ha – what a joke that is.

and all else we won’t get into now but to state how wonderful everything all is to our understanding of how it truly works. and it’s all for our benefit – even everything evil that is balanced with everything good.
the clown sleeps.

 

within certain possibilities (document 13)

document 13 –

our dear one beloved:
easy does it.
claim your fortune, claim your prize. is it a surprise?
claim your mind, claim your heart. it’s a start.

can god exist at the same time as the absurd? doesn’t one deny the other? not according to our theory of everything. all is all that is funny and fun. nothing is more funny and fun than gazorbnik. it doesn’t need to make sense if it is either god and/or the absurd – which it is not, we don’t think.
having no brain which is perhaps not all it’s cracked up to be but to be as thoughtless as an artichoke which makes us ask, how thoughtless is an artichoke?
we receive no answer that makes sense to us, but that’s not stating much to us who make no sense even to ourselves as we are blamed for everything. we are them.

are terrible beautiful things gonna happen? are they happening now? all in one’s perspective of perception. when you get around to it, wish yourself luck, you’ll probably need it.
frying up hash browns.
maybe people are not how they seem to him all ugly and nasty creatures from the black lagoon or some such or a visiting spaceship.
he’d like to believe otherwise but has too many doubts in mind. pet the kitty.
but what makes us think yes or no but from our experience and imaginings? and as always we can always be wrong – or right for that matter, or left, or sideways?
so many options and more from every thought we think.
and the clown naps after it’s medication time.

awakening sleepy and tired – a toke. some fudge covered graham squares. more not p0em for the hell of it cuz it’s not gonna type itself though it sorta does maybe wherever these thoughts the clown receives come from or not. venus? neptune? out past antarctica on the outer rim of the earth? (though why that needs to be secret he doesn’t know why). or from some astral star? from heaven and/or hell? whatever it might be is fine with him, he thinks. or not.

by now most have given up he would imagine if even they have come this far which isn’t far at all for those with time and inclination. or maybe this is not the blog you’re looking for, but now for something completely different.
the clown looks for the unusual to catch his eye. what that might be he cannot guess, he is unwilling to guess. guess who? sez who? he guesses adam and steve walking in the garden after fucking in the meadow over by the tree of the knowledge of good and evil turn left at the next light. we think this is the way, but perhaps not.

the clown does not like asparagus, it smells like cat pee. if it smells like cat pee he imagines it tastes like it too. he is not interested in eating cat pee for dinner.
the truth comes out about everyone. we are naked before the lord that doesn’t seem to care, like it has other matters on its mind much much more important than us so easily blowing in the wind.
he naps.

awakening with painful sinus. it’s just one goddamn thing right after another. order imposed from above, chaos stirring from below – or vice versa, he forgets which is what.
but some things are important to know, like what is up and what is down. simple basic stuff for simple basic minds unable to make up their minds. more coffee, a cigarette, another toke.
but aren’t these minds more in tune with the underlying foundations of our reality of fluid mixing throughout the cosmos? – at least according to our theory of everything which is the most moist coherent theory of them all taking into consideration including all of everything no matter what without anything excluded as it does unlike the other countless theories which must exclude something in order to make them work, so there.
peace be with you.

sometimes what needs to be excluded is all logic and reason to think in strict irrationalogic terms, though this might prove to be impossible due to the natures of all concerned against our own nature. against against everything against. everything trying to destroy the other, though there are no real valid differences among them. it’s one against all and all against one in this world and probably all worlds, except for worlds where when all bad things magically poof away – forever.

he writes not p0em awhile, then becomes distracted by something else that might be anything, or not. and we fly around around in our heads until we land on a beach and gaze upon the waves. how is this possible, it’s all make believe. we pretend these things are true which is neither here nor there where we might find them lurking around the edge to town as it used to be so long ago no one remembers what it was actually like to be there when.
what are the facts? free burgers? what does it mean?
the screams and laughter from the funhouse spinning in a tornado of fire. everything is horrifyingly funny – arms and heads pulled off, eyes plucked out, kneecaps broken, and more. but that world isn’t for the weak of heart, it’ll break you before you know what’s happening. how long to know how long that is, or could be?
is it a plan? is it random? we employ all for our desired ends which become more slender every moment it seems.

is god what we want it to be? do we make a wish and flip a coin into a fountain to make it come true. and what if it doesn’t? but what if it does? wishes make dishes and there’s fishes on dishes.
long may we hum along with the machine which is already in progress.
dummy – dummy dummy idiot.
more coffee, another cigarette, a toke, and away we go until the next nap of our journey and kingdom come.
may the lord be with us, though if it be against us we can do no harm.
damn.

at war with the poor you shall always have with you. eradicate. but eradicate yourselves as well when it comes down to that – when there’s no one else left. is this your way to perfection? holy heck, how much time is left?
it’s medication time.

sitting in the middle, doo-dah doo-dah.
playing a fiddle, doo-dah doo-dah.
got fishes on a skittle, doo-dah doo-dah.
ain’t thinking about a riddle, doo-dah doo-dah – dum.

the clown just wants to be a prole. stays out of the way while the machine grinds the others down. he doesn’t frown. he is glad.
hark, the new improved best machine could ever be. we are witness to its glory. what more could be better? much could be far worse. we don’t think about that anymore. hap-hap-happy thoughts. the golden age is here.

we are primates and we do this to ourselves. we make it all up in our minds to become reality. all darkness within guided by a light – toward what? something we shall probably never discover nor tell if we do. some further victory we imagine. words are tricky, be careful. safety first. know what you mean.

the future is unknowable except as it becomes itself through the manifestations of our visions of what it might be. when everything becomes thoughtcrime. when not thinking is not enough. one must not know what a thought is. what is it? age old philosophers have not uncovered its secrets. they stand as dumbfounded idiots before it.

sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.
what a feat of social engineering disguised as middle class revolution. everything is shining spanking new as can be in this world where when all our dreams come to die.
chewing bubble gum blowing bubbles the clown typing not p0em cuz he ain’t no poet continuing onward moment through moment everlasting till the end of time which there will never be if we think about it long enough that we become stuck in the mud.
the horror of it – haha. what madness we pursue at our own risk and by the favor of the gods. what fools we become – happy fools unknowing.

somebody should do something about all of this.
somebody like you.

don’t worry, it’s just life

document 11 –

our dear one beloved:
5575

we meet again under dire circumstances of mind it might seem at first, until we recognize it is all a big mistake and we are happily free ever after the clown typing not p0em awakening from a nap with coffee toke cigarette fudge covered graham squares pet the kitty rocking back and forth like someone deranged as a duck on LSD would be frightened of his own shadows in mind’s eye boing boing boing go man go. go to the head of the class to claim your prize, to work most of the rest of your life for the masters, whose reptilian faces are never seen but felt to be as if looking into a reflection in a maze of mirrors. could it be so simple?
refugees from the great unwashed among us fleeing for freedom promised if they took a chance with strangers in the night procuring precious tidbits of information regarding the great machine supposedly watching over us now and again, its eyes hovering over the city streets bright with green light into a haze of self-awareness hither to unknown to any even the wise guys so bold now harrowed scruffs amusing themselves with yesterday’s news marching all in a row to the military parade style drums banging and trumpets blaring to thrill the hearts to kill the time willing to become amused by their own foolishness sometimes wishing it were not so but it is.

clever midgets scarfing up their last meal on this earth in this world surrounding them such that they cannot escape. everything’s funnier with a midget, don’t you think? perhaps not. this post-postmodern world crashing down on its face without grace clatter banging around in crazy zigzags and loopy circles and out the windows to fly from themselves to yonder shores of more trouble than it’s worth.
coughing his lungs up the clown continues what he can only assume is madness to perform alone in the darkened back left corner of the stage at the burning theater being part of the ongoing play written by mystic magick magpies mingling before the museum.

the clown is basically alone so no wonder. these dreams which filling his head with nonsense (not making any $$$) driving him off the edge of the world through the cold antarctic night. it’s heads or tails and though he favors tails it comes down heads and everything changes collapsing from one possibility to another. he could stay or go. what does he know? he doesn’t need to decide yet or never letting fate take its course for or against him. and how will he determine the difference? much that is for him has been against him and vice versa too doobie-doo. but he doesn’t care anymore. but should he?

what might the clock have to say about everything we may wonder about? coo-coo… coo-coo… coo-coo…
and we don’t mind that much; we’ve been told worse than that.
nobody cooks much anymore. everything is automatic magick that who knows how it works? we don’t. so when the time comes, we’re fucked. it’s all we can do to change a lightbulb or the smoke detector battery. we are helpless idiots led to the slaughter – oh my, oh dear.
why not the beginning? why end it all now? be here forever, though it will never be. some SF fantasy thing going on with tribulations and aliens and shit. and a mighty trumpet, here it comes – blast off?
sure, why not? everything will be perfect, if we even knew what perfect means. it’s not what most people think it is. it is not without error, though there can be no error cuz it’s perfect. do we need to make up our minds? how come?
are we the error of perfection? many would tell us, yes. much like nearly all religious philosophies we are always in error for some reason. we anger the gods. the gods just need to get over it. spoiled brats with broken toys.

arguments about everything and nothing and in-between about who’s woke as fuck and who’s not. give us a break, people. how long does this sorta thing continue? let’s have a war. oh boy. just like the good old days.
john wayne would be proud.
so we continue on from here back onstage at the burning theater with the fake moon hanging in the “sky” where the clown sits typing not p0em causing trouble everywhere he goes cuz people so uptight about shit they jump a mile high.

to the clown being woke is a joke on all the people who take it seriously. the clown don’t give a rat’s asshole one way or another which as much he can tell is where it’s at, baby. everyone looking for it elsewhere while it’s nowhere (now here) – or not. does it matter?

it’s the 11th stage of the mind shift/ship when it really kicks in, and how. to the moon, alice. you don’t need no ticket, you just get on board – and you don’t look back.
crossing legs stretching muscles loosening joints while still typing not p0em mantra for his merrie delight. words of cheap superlative descriptions all essentially meaning the same. 1/27/2018 4:57:30 AM. wonderful, amazing, awesome, and all that and so forth.
making coffee, a toke, a cigarette.
the police states of the future are here now as they have been, as they will be.
all space, no time.
all time, no space.
something like that.

the clown understands now and again what must be with everything either making $$$ or not. survival of the most profitable. get back to work.
everything is a test of will and might. join the fight on through the night, it’s a fright.
daisy chains and laughs – lottsa laughs. when we were young and days were long. everyone had a favorite song, until they took control and now dictate what the choices are to be.
these times when everything is thoughtcrimes to someone, somebody else. we are them. tell us a different story, let’s pretend make believe reality. silly bees. we are all dead.

everybody’s a fascist, especially the anti-fascists. line up and get things done, hail victory. please, please be pleased with us. and the anarkists are even worse, and they smell bad.
gazorbnik for the future. hide it before anyone else has a chance to see it. keep it down on the ground, trample it beneath your feet as you run for the exits. there must be some way outta here, but not necessarily.

everybody supposedly woke as fuck is what they call it now. the clown sleeps waiting for them to catch up. will they ever?
conspiracies everlasting to be believed true or false, enlightenment or disinformation, or both? and on like that that one might experience if taking the time to do so. it just needs thought and imagination to grow along with anything else that may come to mind.
it’s medication time.

the clown doesn’t know nothing being an idiot at large making a fool of himself as it would seem. what is revealed or not revealed is irrelevant. it’s all the same boring useless shit as always about whatever is hip at the moment and going going gone the next.
exactly.

he’s hungry and opts for a roast beef and swiss sandwich. but he finds there is no roast beef left in the fridge, just turkey, and he doesn’t want turkey so he scraps that idea and returns to the studio with coffee and to nibble on fudge covered graham squares instead.
he doesn’t like cucumbers, except when they happen to be pickles.