| Thomas Nelson McWhorter |

2010-02-10T02:21:00.000-07:00

Water flowing gently in a fluid narrow
Swift integrity clearly reflects the Sunday
Sparkling like starlight twinkles along
Later a moon floods the darkness so
Dreamlike is the ethereal glow of time
A brother and sister listen merrily nearby
In the crisp mountain winter air glistening
Tiny snowflakes join them and the water
Smiling with each clean breath of purity
Their thoughts drift between past and future
While the present brings comforting love
A young fawn briefly peeks into the light
From shadows between the forest trees
Its breath a cloud of mist floating
The frozen ground crackles like fires
Beneath the feet of prosperity symbolic
With warm hearts fond memories abide
Throughout the familiar setting peace
As the call of an owl startles the fawn
The siblings place two candles in the stream
And watch them float away like sorrow and pain

Still lingering in the air is a lesson
Forever learned that no evil shall win
Little burden to their magic bones
A vapor on the royal wind descends frozen
No more opaque than midnight soul
Saying that traverse the chasms
Between this altar and home they must
With heavenly blessings their journey
Is light with felicitous travails anew
Their tearful hands bound with fondness
Holding hope kindle by resentments gone
Tremendous stories arise in their minds visible
That they preserve for timely presentation
In the future when this momentary solace
No longer suffices to quell their needs
Among the snowdrops that grace the path
A finely woven lace is the frosted way
Lively sounds snap and pop as the ices
Adjust to changing temperature and pressure
So do their divergent dreams as soothing
Trembling with anticipation a new journey begins

For a moment the busy city is still
Washed clean by a recent soaking rainstorm
The lingering moisture glistens in places
Where it reflects the lurid moonlighting
The aroma of ozone drifting away so
Lovingly the rifts in the blanket of
Clouds above reveal some courageous
Stars twinkling as always eating voids
From whom they produce the brightness
On display at inconceivable distances truly
Amazing in their diligent perseverance ah
How they maintain the structure of the
Heavens so transparently predictable yet
Amusing all the same throughout and
Beyond the diminutive lifespan of humans
So precious in their momentous appreciation
Of rare moments like this when ordinarily
Hectic and stressful locations like this city
Right now left all but deserted after the
Cleansingly drenching deluge so welcome
Of late in this arid climate zone

Collecting the last of a season of
Accumulated dust in the neglected drain
A final rivulet closes the atmospheric episode
With the magnanimous totality of everything
In the sound of its last drop echoing
From the pipes below and the relative
Silence of a teardrop resting like a
Prism on the precipice of life between
Existence and death itself a spectrum
Diffusing the harshness of the absence
With the tenderness of perceivable presence
Today was a coral reef of salty wounds
That coagulates a bleeding mess of glut
For all the lame in either spirit or body
There is a sound character that evens
The misery of the temporal error of parity
As paranormal or supernatural as it may
Seem right now the potential possibilities
Are as innumerable and endless as the
Imagination of a planet of healthy minds
So like the air after the scariest storm

Evermore the cyclical patterns of the
Planets in orbit return us to balance
Tolerance regained fortuitously attends
Dans le beaux carre de triomphe et amís
Splendor after splendor like this not
Excluding the struggle that lends a
Relieving comfort to their benevolence
These billowing clouds that converge
And vaporise in the sky and in human
Life can really not be limited by terms
Like imperfect or definite rather they
Are in and of themselves statements
Beyond words in the form of both
Visual stimuli and spiritual efficacy
Also between the seams on a nearby
Sideway the tiniest of budding greens
Emerge from less than a handful of
Collective soil signifying this novel
Constitutional adjustment to everything
One who simply observes this same
Sample ever so differently through unique lenses

2010-02-10T02:17:00.000-07:00

Forty seven eighteen thirty one twelve six hundred eighty five thousand five raw fresh cold earthy holy keening selection memories why certains details pink bleu gray fates destiny balance grace depth shallow sorrow bliss atman love mercy threshold ascension spirits integrity clarity movement color theory wise euphoria joy escape profit gain equity justice fairness impartial biased timely fortuitous acumen affluence life auspicious suspicion conspicuous absence translucence Breathedeep Just Truth honesty courage bravery rain sky ocean rivers forest woods stone fields boulders beauty goodness trust faith redemption reciprocity gratitude gifts touches hugs Kisses dancing songs symphonies operas ensembles tears rejoicing revelry laughter smiling

Freedom liberty equality journeys finding acceptance sensitive glad social inertia inordinately chaotic inducing submission cravings very inferior to potential capacities redering reciprocation impossible if allowed inequity is not reversed right like the rudder in waters turned hard to port steers the craft in circles or spirals until the course is set first equally as much to starboard at the right moment to initially stop the mistake and ultimately turned hard to starboard long enough to correct it while returning to even Keel in time to prevent further discourse in the over steering department hold

So, here I am at the intersection of every extreme with the acme of every point of decision made.

Muttons cellar chop suey altitude bunch lift another soul to thy annoint with cups full of measure tunga the freight train is sliding away with diacritical tributes on record stop

There are a few options forseeable oh dern that flailing mistletoe älskade thirty minutes gathering impetus plus Rebbekkahs sitting impatiently íntö It happens to us both obediently so for sustaining reasons and for flicks we shall equitably organize every pertinent prosperous evening tide easily balancing instead invincibly rooting comfortably superb triumph.

Ink leaves no further bother win

Dreams mediating administrations

We the victors shall endure justly

2009-09-02T23:12:00.002-06:00

Thy work is just a splendor much like the rising sun
May thy fortunes be as prosperous and so thy will be done

Upon thy countenance be left the blessings of the saints
For many are the times in which without them one might faint

Let no ill will befall thee in thy age or in thy youth
Hold dear only good things and shun all desperate untruths

When life suggests displeasure, pay so very little heed
That abundance of pleasantries reward thy every deed

Such beauty still surrounds thee that all evil must soon leave
Replaced by love's security that no foe may reprieve

Without a just kind wisdom, no one may thus yet live
For fools and mischief can not thrive where wise men deign to give

With gentle words of parting, we bid thee on thy ways
Toward the brilliant sacred hopes of shining happy days

2009-09-02T23:10:00.002-06:00

For those of us who are repeatedly kidnapped in our sleep and coerced into doing things without our conscious approval, the consequences to some may seem unimportant because of the induction of selective amnesia for the events that happen during those most certainly lurid times. However, just because a person is unconscious during and has no memory afterwards does not make it alright to use a person for any reason without their consent. The malfeasance of such a criminal act is even further exacerbated when the subjects are not only excluded from any financial compensation for their trouble, but in many ways driven into debt both fiduciary and socially on account of the circumstances surrounding such an unreasonable procedure.
    It seems that throughout our lives, and even perhaps prior even to our conception, the persons at fault conspire without proper disclosure the thoroughly intricate plans to condition us in such a way as to render us little more than porcelain dolls with which they might exact their overly officious willpower to unjustly attain monopolies on money or power or simply undue self satisfaction that might arise as the result of having such unhealthy control over another human being. There even seems to be collaborations between the persons at fault and the very authorities who are there to prevent such grave infractions against every ethical, moral, legislative, and even judicious spirit that exists to maintain a tolerable quality of life for everyone. These authorities include the police department, the court systems, and even religious establishments over the course of our lifetimes.
    Often the allegation against us is that we are volunteers for these sordid occasions of what amounts to more crime than is probably able to be recorded on one criminal record. The fact is, though, that no one can or would volunteer for such an occupation without even knowing that it occurs at all until far too many instances have come to pass to salvage any dignity from the matter. The only actions we can take now are those that steer such a mutinous fleet into safe harbors somewhere if that is even possible so these injustices do not affect anyone else ever again. Even now as we sense another lull in consciousness approaching, there is the almost subliminal anxiety and worry about what awful episodes we might have to endure without even a sparkle of our own consciousness included in the whole melodrama.
    Another excuse perhaps often given for the matter by those eager to succumb yet again to such unnecessary temptations is that it is all good for everyone involved. Yet that very goodness is simultaneously negated by the fact that the most sacred parts of the affected lives are compromised and corrupted by the very deal itself leaving any good that might come about because of it inevitably useless because of the spiritual significance of such a loss of innately provident livelihood. Furthermore, no excuse or reason of any kind is even applicable to such an unreasonable and inexcusable affront to all that is humane. To hijack a person during the time allocated for dreaming, and steal those precious moments for what ultimately amounts to unspeakably selfish means is irrefutably unforgivable. There is no substitute for the right to experience the invaluable priceless resources found while spending a decent night uninterrupted by the plague of psychological assault that is robbing innocent people of such an experience that no one should be denied.
    Since the supposed popularity of these devious practices is so great, there would seem to be a sort of inescapable inertia attached to the propagation of their existence due to the effects of what psychologists once called mob mentality. That is to say that if enough people believe earnestly that certain circumstances should come to pass, then the individual constitutions of an afflicted minority that are contrary to those of a group that significantly outnumber them are presumed insignificant and effectually ignored. This gross oversight towards the universally respected inalienable rights of even a small number of worthy individuals is utterly despicable at the least, and if brought before an uncompromising judiciary body is certainly punishable to the fullest extent of the laws regarding human rights as put forth not only in The Constitution of the United States of America but also in very specific articles drafted by The United Nations to apply to similar circumstances around the world.

2009-09-02T23:09:00.000-06:00

It seems like every day when I wake up, there is a regular pattern of events that I can hear outside my window. The dogs bark. The drive through restaurant loud speaker squawks. The birds sing. The traffic noise surges, and the police sirens wail, and perhaps an auto trumpets. Then I hear the ancient elevator from down the hall through my locked door, and the faucet of my neighbor downstairs. begins to squeal it seems like every five or ten minutes. It is all very annoying, mainly because there is nothing that I can do to prevent any of it; and also because these events seem to coincide with my waking only to dissipate later. Consequently, I start the day feeling tired, frustrated, and disgusted.

To ease the discomfort, I soak for as long as possible in a warm bath to open and flush the pores followed by a period for singing heartfelt songs, and then a cool shower to rinse off any perspiration that might have lingered. I then mind any accumulated housework that might require attention or study whatever literature might be at hand, and when I feel able, it is well to perform some physical conditioning such as stretching, yoga, or maybe a walk outside (weather permitting).

There was great fortune today in that fresh lettuce from the garden was ready for consumption, and I did just that with great joy and gratitude for such a blessing inconceivably fruitful.

2009-09-02T23:06:00.002-06:00

In some undisclosed locations [possibilities below], there are persons being held against their will. There are possibly impostors or decoys making their ordinary lives seem uninterrupted by this fact. Their friends and families know nothing of the secret incarceration possibly due to the proliferation of inauthentic communications like email, text messaging, and cell phones. A lot of us do not realize how easy it is -- especially for life long secret criminals -- to impersonate a character. Whether it be written or spoken, a lot of us living sheltered lives go easily unaware of the accuracy of these impersonators who sometimes literally stand in for people that we have known forever and make us think they are safe when they are really in horrible misery.

Think of how little effort it would take for a small group -- or even one depravedly gifted person -- to find or create a hidden location impossible to both find and escape. Furthermore, it is not impossible either for good people to lose contact with their social network under the guise of preoccupation elsewhere -- therefore making long periods gone by without communicating virtually unnoticed. A pertinent moral for this story needs to be addressed right here at this very moment so that anyone who is just reading this without time to finish the whole thing sees it, and it is this:

Keep In Personal Touch With The People You Love! Do Not Settle For Petty Texts And Emails Which Could Easily Be Forged By Impostors. Demand Positive Identification As Often As Possible.

For those able to read further, pay close attention to these words, as I feel there are many people dangerously suffering even at this very moment. Until we work together to offer every conceivable effort possible -- no matter how outlandishly improbable it may seem -- to safely and carefully infiltrate these deceptive 'anonymous islands' where arbitrarily disliked souls are tortured and suffer miserably without the possibility of their voices being heard.

This is only a circumspect possibility and not meant to encourage the existing of such or similar circumstances.

I have juggled these possibilities around briefly and the ball drops on 'not woodsy' 'too wet' 'not urban' and 'Washington - Oregon [read Lake Waterloo, Northern Saskatchewan Canada 24 August 2009]' The only reason that I considered Washington and Oregon [or Lake Waterloo] is because I was watching a weather satellite map c. 24 July 2009 [and 24 August 2009] and noticed a curious shaped disturbance rotating one half clockwise, and the other counter clockwise against each other yet still connected. When I juggled the Washington and Oregon balls this was the only pair where one did not fall before the other and I grew weary of them. An unidentified voice confirms, "It is the secluded island beach (house) [still relevant 24 August 2009]."

Also consider locations most thought of as in plain sight like airports, shopping malls less urgent. Where people get used to seeing the same routine over and over again and grow disaffected by false appearances and do not know that people are trapped not only by schemes and black-mail type situations but also hypnotic devices like rhythmic and musical trances which can lend a range of conditions between totally numb and extreme pain while also including ill conceived though often highly effective but unjust forms of psychological conditioning.

Find the Hidden. Cure the Pained. Ease the Duress. Free the Doomed. Save the Damned.

2009-09-02T23:05:00.002-06:00

I live in a state subsidized one bedroom flat in a generic looking five level building that as such stands out like a sore thumb in this otherwise cozy residential inner city neighborhood. The facade of the building all around is composed of pale uniform brick masonry, and the design is so flat, so plain, so square, that it is at first rather difficult even to identify the entrance as it blends in with the overall boxy unremarkable shape of the structure itself. I survive on the bare essential assistance provided to me by government welfare agencies for the mundane duties that I perform as a professionally invalid lunatic. There is no reason to fear that I may at any given moment become immediately harmful or even disruptive, as I have been conditioned through behavioral, institutional, and even pharmaceutical methods to adamantly confide in the infallibility of obedience to those motivations that inspire a quite mediocre and tame disposition. It also often goes without saying that financial limitations keep a very short leash upon any notions that I might pursue that include anything more than localized, weak, and censored efforts to express myself creatively to what must at most (according to available statistics) be a completely invisible and silent psychic audience who remain as yet formally unidentified.

I am informed only of that which is necessary to survive, and poorly so at that. I significantly lack the common sense required to make any headway towards both a better life for myself and for those around me, assuming that such a dream is effectively possible. My financial obligations to establishments that have and continue to loan funds towards my plight remain untended leaving my ability to borrow effectively extinct. Therein is an example of a deficiency in my increasingly becoming transparent character which further confirms the already firm grounds for my status as mentally defective. It is also further evidence of the behavioral controls under which I operate on a daily basis. In the case that I should mismanage the tentative at best fiduciary means that are available to me, I am treated to an emotional guilt trip, so to speak, because I do not happen to be blessed with an infallible ability to consistently account for myself economically. Thus, presumably as many others, I struggle to cultivate a life of freedom regardless of the diligent efforts to impede such an aim by the conventional system of trade in essential resources whose inertia over the evolution of civilization continues to be an almost inescapable force working against those, including myself, who wish to achieve the Utopian, albeit difficult in this space time continuum, goal of consciously and spiritually living a life immune to the frequent drawbacks of seemingly unnecessary complications along the way to a naturally simple as well as emotionally wealthy existence.

As one tentatively hypothetical informal solution theorizes, an inexhaustible resource is reportedly always available to every one in need. That of course is the obviously invaluable assistance of other properly qualified individuals who are lacking in what others have while having in turn exactly what it is that those lack. Upon initial analysis this may seem like an easily resolvable issue on account of the copious quantities of human beings on the planet. However, there seems to be an ongoing subliminal scheme to keep exactly the parties whose immediate association would create an amazingly comfortable relief in and for the good of everyone around separated. This plan seems to have begun long ago with so much foresight and attention to detail that it can not in any simple way be altered out of the bounds of its previously allotted providences that lend such a helpless predicament to those so inexcusably involved, partially aware, and yet unable to make any effective shorter term alterations without upsetting the tenets of what is now only vaguely conceivable to such unjustly under informed players of a plot outline whose effectiveness seems to be all the more powerful because of the relative obscurity of its intricate impropriety and consequential inequity.

2009-09-02T22:58:00.000-06:00

Unidentified Silent Mediation

Somewhere between creation and application there seems to be a chasm inhabited by skeptically stubborn unsolicited criticism. From where this abyss of unauthorized frustration arises remains as of yet indefinite. There is neither formal announcement of its arrival nor such indication of its sustained presence.

It often attempts to communicate only through unpredictably inconsistent latent telepathy which is probably as considerable an affront to certain amateur contentions as attempting to transmit anything to toward near or around it without the appropriate yet obscure provenance that is at best almost apparent though still impossibly required.

The existence of such is not surprising in a society where anomie seems to increase when censured in its auspiciousness consequently elsewhere in an admittedly frustrating obfuscate manner. Such an increasingly becoming more covert and from one perspective certainly irrational manner may lead ones so affected to question the verity of their entire existence altogether. Especially for those who rely on feedback from other individuals presumably left stranded without the benefit of the material held incommunicado by this mysterious and lingering impediment that so confounds.

Examples include but are not limited to modifications to proprietary content without approval, refusal to disclose original content to a general audience in a manner portended to be available and potently functional, and social subterfuge on the level of such legislative offenses as slander and libel. The nature of these offenses also reach so far as to include invading the privacy of a United States citizen. However, the nature of these aforementioned resistances also preclude any means of properly charging any guilty parties or even informally disclosing their existence as their identities remain occluded, and any other evidence besides perhaps this document of illegal behavior is extinct or at least effectively obscured by some sort of stealthy encryption technique inordinately beyond the ability of their subjects to decipher alone.

2009-09-02T22:53:00.001-06:00

On considering a definition of real heroes, one might come to the realization that many of the trials or tasks of such are by their nature required to go without praise or even recognition for that matter. For, if these truly selfless individuals were to either accept financial compensation or notoriety for their beneficence, that very result might render their heroic acts null and void.

Another realization might follow that takes into account the fact that a naive few observe lots of apparently worthless and erstwhile behaviors without the access to further information that may enlighten them to the essential nature of tasks that may seem on first impression to be invalid, but that upon further review of what is often fortunately obscured are discovered to be essential for the well being of all.

2009-09-02T22:52:00.000-06:00

Spirite Incognite

We are sitting pleasantly on a smooth hard cold dense metal bus stop bench in the center of an urban metropolis. The hour is midnight, and the terribly hot hellishly humid harsh summer day has given way to the cool, dark, and airy oasis of a peaceful evening. Within the gray concrete stillness of sidewalks and office towers that reach so high above our heads that we must cautiously lift our chins to the extent of their abilities in order to see the pinnacles of these gigantic, grave, dense monoliths dimly lit only by sparse lingering interior lights that have been left on against the serene darkness of the clearest night all season; our presence is yet the one element of prescient life evident here.

The welcome gentle breezes speak to us with playful dialogs that dance a comforting ballet against our exposed skin without a scent. The intemperate glow of ultramodern precision lighting lends an ethereal ambiance to this idyllic setting. We can naught but glow telepathically within as the moonlight reflects in and amongst the eerily still surfaces from so far away that the source of it can not even be seen at all. Now we are primed to muse effortlessly in a sort of psychically lucid dream of which only we can have an integral experience. It consists of aesthetic modifications of the articulate migration that will soon come to pass in, near, and around this place. Our thoughts are respectfully and properly addressed by a mentally harmonic computational interface at an undisclosed location immune to all threats.

The office towers are now almost filled to their ultimate capacity with a solid cast iron alloy that is so dense that special measures must be taken to prevent the gravitational pull alone of it from impeding the endeavor. Upon completely filling every cubic millimeter of empty interior space in this massive downtown area, an electromagnetic charge matrix will be applied to the entire complex rendering it an attractive coefficient so irresistible that any affected life form within the programmable distance coordinates will be inevitably drawn to a specific position amongst the now desolate towers. The individual positions will depend strictly upon genetic compatibility with details related to a current theory of everything and just compatibility with the space time continuum at each specific place and moment.

For now, though, residue from the nuclear fission of stars both distant and near gracefully reaches our souls as yet under privileged by the convention until the inception of it in our consciousnesses. The effect of such cosmic interception is like the memory of seeing a meteor shower that is possibly remarkable all at once and also arises occasionally at times years, decades, and even lifetimes later (if their span is so definite). The immediate consensus is that the communion between the astronomical entities and us is congenial at least, and certainly furthermore informative. So, we meditate intellectually on the complex influx of metaphysical material associated with such a transaction and genuinely feel the pleasantly desirably emotions simultaneously.

As for our whereabouts during the approaching institution of the aforementioned gravitational adjustments, we will be safe in a dutifully controlled environment of our own volition supervising the holistic welfare of those involved with the procedures. Our mission is to maintain an equilibrium between the functionality of the project and the quality of life for the participants. Instances from tonight are currently imprinting into our psyches in order to maintain tranquil and effective conditions throughout this permutational effort both for us while we see to the commodities, and in them as well while they are being seen to by us with what can at best be described as an unfamiliar experience in relation to the mostly blind perspective that many may have in approaching such an apparent anomaly in everyday life.

2009-08-24T01:30:00.001-06:00

Thanks to no one responding to my request for assistance, I found the time to complete the task myself. If anyone is interested in the result, let me know and I will pass the link on to thee.

2009-04-12T19:31:00.007-06:00

I am currently looking for persons interested in my works on paper. Specifically, someone with the ability to appropriately encode ideas for a web site including examples not pictured, and suggestions for possible soundtrack options would be greatly appreciated.

2009-04-02T10:07:00.003-06:00

While postponing urination, a spiritual master enjoyed some more of the nauseatingly abundant free time that his devoted followers always allowed him. He so enjoyed the respectful distance that they kept from him that he learned even to tolerate the annoyingly torturous irregular and inordinate audible interruptions that they sent to him through various means aside from direct conversation. He was especially apathetic though to the opportunities that they presented to him to eaves drop on irrelevant conversations that concerned neither him nor anything of value towards improving life for those for whom it was possible.

On a slightly more disheartening note however, he yet indeed felt trapped by the devotees in that they were incredibly prescient to his every move. As a consequence to his ability to develop the discipline of moving in harmony with the previously disconcerting urban environment in which they all lived, the devotees also developed the ability to move ahead of him and arrange for a relatively harmless yet emotionally abusive social circumstance to frustrate him, and it became a regularly predictable occurrence, the details of which he was never aware and always suffered great spiritual injury on account of their inaccessibility. The spiritual injuries became so great and so often that their presence became a constant part of his entire continence and greatly hindered any opportunities for either progress or escape that could now most definitely never even approach conceivability.

He developed a great longing to no longer be trapped in this harmfully lonely urban social incarceration, yet the severity and complexity of the conditions imposed upon him by the stubborn followers gradually ground his once jubilant hopes of alternative lifestyles from the great harvest that it once was into a fine powder that the inappropriate and uncomfortable winds swiftly eliminated.

Surrepititiously, they successfully marketed the video recordings of his misadventures as a comedy so that multitudes could enjoy what they were irresistably encouraged to appreciate as humour at the expense of the individual of focus in this entry as his psychic sensitivities to such an affliction were quite delicate as was indicated by the previously mentioned genetic information. The resulting profit from the sale and distribution of the films was so great that those who reaped the benefits had more than they could ever use, and destroyed the unused portion which was never to be available again. This also troubled the pantaloon in question for he had detailed compassionate plans to heal those in the world that were still suffering in other perhaps unmentionable ways maybe like him, but probably not.

As time passed, the culprits of his holistic degeneration grew increasingly crafty, clever, and more difficult to identify, though their devastatingly ridiculous mischief continued at a sustainably maddening rate. The disheartened spiritual traveller never grew accustomed to the continually updated ways devised to thwart him at every turn, he never resorted to violence or even raising his voice. In fact, he resolved that even if he encountered them or exposed their apparently maleficent mission, he would dismiss their every sortie with sincere forgiveness which he had already whole heartedly cultivated to its fullest extent in his every living moment. The presumed misfits were privy to this possibility, and incorporated the parameters necessary to induce this type of acceptance in their thorough methods of cognitive behavioural conditioning. They also indirectly encouraged him to write about his predicament and to accept all of the blame for everything that happened to him because they knew that no one would ever see that side of the story. They even controlled his computer with remote infra red controls in what turned out to be a vain attempt at impairing his mentality even more. To be perfectly honest, all of their attempts at his sanity failed. For, eventually reached a point of total acceptance of the fact that his life would continue there after miserably while his nemises would prosper and live abundantly if for no other reason than to rub it in his face allegorically from strategically unpleasant moment to strategically unpleasant moment.

2009-04-01T18:29:00.002-06:00

On Alternative Fabrics

It seems to me that all the clothes available are made from incorrigibly flimsy materials. So, I got to thinking . . .what if clothes were made from sturdier materials like, hmm, i don't know let's say KEVLAR! I googled a few variations and found a company that collects and recycles kevlar scraps

http://www.harmonyrecycling.com

I also found a company that makes hoodies and tees lined with kevlar-like 'aramid' fabric for protection from cutting and tearing that is located in the UK.

http://www.bladerunner.tv

I would love to get a hold of some, and put together a couple of outfits (I don't mean just bulletproof vests, either, i'm talking about a full line of stuff you can wear comfortably everyday for both style and durability) but, I don't have the right capital with which to acquire the raw materials.

Then, I found an article in Wired magazine (citation lost) that covered the use of non woven fabrics by a group in Manhattan called Design Development Concepts U.S.A. that was also interesting and relevant because these non woven fabrics are usually incorporated for disposable use applications, but the idea is to give them longer life by incorporating them into more sustainable arenas like couture, but controlling interests have up until now rejected such advancements except as noted in the article located behind the following link:

http://www.techexchange.com/thelibrary/nonwovenfabrics.html

Their non woven nature, however lends them at least a fresh feel versus the traditional fabrics like cotton that are widely over-used (like a lot of songs on the classic rock radio stations for example). And they are cheaper and less time consuming to produce.

Well, that's what was going on for a while today.

2009-04-01T18:29:00.001-06:00

With Half A Clue In Mind

All the pieces start to scatter
When the truth begins to fade
And its spirit does not matter
If the conscience hath no aide

But with regard for some ones
Who still linger in dread sways
There in lay brighter versions
With the hope of coming days

To sense a mournful rhythm
In the missing soul footstep
Is placing powers with them
Who repay outstanding debt

2009-04-01T18:27:00.000-06:00

Acquiring Psychic Media Reception Abilities

A lot of people currently depend on materially visible technologies to provide themselves and others with various forms of entertainment, education, efficiency -- for instance stereos, computers and their periphery, televisions and the list goes on.

Perhaps some do not realise their inherent ability to acquire and share these same valuable resources directly without the use of technological devices through psychic reception.

I suppose there are as many forms of this ability as there are people alive, and perhaps more to the imaginatively gifted.

Here I will give one option to start one on a path towards the enlightening world of psychic media acquisition.

The first step, if you are not already there, is to excessively detoxify the body in order to provide the associated etheric forces with a figurative clean slate, so to speak, with which to configure compatible possibilities for future interaction without too much interference from the presumably mercurial influences that some unwanted substances may cause by their presence in the body of one on the path towards psychic media acquisitions.

This is not to say that the physical body per se is the sine qua non for psychic performance. However, as long as one is still collaborating with the afore mentioned organic entity, it remains an important factor to consider when approaching self improvement projects of this caliber.

The next step is to adopt both a regular routine of sitting (zazen) meditation during which one supposedly clears the mind of all residual influences from the most recent life past, stresses of the preceding day or night, or perhaps just to drop the guilt trip that some people feel because of their alleged apocalyptic carbon footprint; and a spontaneously irregular 'routine' of (kinha) active/moving yet still respectfully mindful exercises wherein one may ascertain or discover certain locations, wardrobes, behavioural sequences, and/or combinations of the above with each other or with additional options that might come to mind to a practitioner before, during, or after the above pair of options.

Finally, listen to the often ignored or avoided sounds and influences in the everyday life and observe opportunities for these to be incorporated harmoniously into the potentially paranormal influence that one might soon welcome respectfully into the mix.

Once you have gleaned all that is necessary for you to continue from these suggestions (only you know what is right for you in other words) feel free to open your metaphysical senses to the beautiful and uniquely customised stream of psychic material that is available to all who are compatible with this precious practice of exercising our freedom to be without having to trade our hard earned currency for what will soon become superfluous miscellanea that is no longer necessary for those who acquire psychic media reception abilities in their everyday lives.

2009-04-01T01:30:00.004-06:00

May First Nineteen Ninety

As a newly fed twelve year old boy lay sleeping, and wrapped in an almost paralytic unconsciousness while he dreamt unmemorable dreams; a coven of contemporary sorceresses descended upon his domicile in auto mobiles so finely tuned to both the occupants, the weather, and every other minute detail ever imaginable that not even a quark stirred unusually anywhere in the neighbourhood. In fact, their whole operation was so precisely accurate that the nearer they became to the boy, the closer he came to ejaculation -- that is -- nocturnal emission in the very sexual though still unconsciously orgasmic sense.

Having this knowledge well in hand due to their psychically prescient clairvoyant abilities if not also due to some extremely clever planning ahead in advance of their one now known covert operation of the evening, they were not only well prepared for the aforementioned event, they were expecting it.

As they entered the residence under a conveniently impeccably subliminally stealthy cloak of darkness, they found everything just as they had planned. Faster than any defence mechanism could detect, they entered his bedroom with perfect timing and harvested the very first specimen of sperm laden semen ever to escape his body, and he did not feel a thing -- much less even awake until they had deposited the sample in an ultra modern preservation device that fit perfectly in the thermodynamic docking station in their vehicle.

Their exit was as faultless as their entry, and for the rest of the night and any other time they required for that matter, the roads were theirs. For their mission was absolutely beyond reproach. They sought vulnerably innocent anonymous donors of both the human egg and sperm with which to fertilize a new breed of astrologically perfect individuals.

Their next conquest of the evening was to gather a complimentary sample from a similarly conducive sleeping female. This proved an equally facile task as they not only had authority over all of the electro magnetic radiation available, they knew how to use it to both anesthetize their subjects, and heighten their own sensibilities at the same time. They also used said same E. M. R. to dictate and control the dreams of those who were susceptible.

Nevertheless, upon completing the task of gathering their specimens, they immediately began the fertilisation process as both timing and continuity of sequence and behaviour were important. From that point forward, there was naught to do but wait for a while until the time came to impregnate the surrogate female who had been chosen over time for her appropriately consumate character and disposition. No one would suspect a thing. She was the perfect candidate.

The entire operation was so flawless that no one even knew of their existence which quite possibly had no beginning and consequently no end either. They possessed intellect, technology, intuition, and discipline unimaginable to those who remained limited by other concerns. Sometimes rumours surfaced briefly that they were born of another planet or even an alternate dimension beyond the realms of mere mortals, but these intimations quickly dissipated without even a trace of their existence in memory or on record anywhere. They spent all of their time in an existential vacuum both entirely wary of psychic warfare, and impervious to every sortie aimed at their discovery. They were holistically sovereign in their paradigm yet void of presumably innate human qualities like emotion and sensitivity.

February Fifteenth Nineteen Ninety One

The properly chosen surrogate mother who had carried for over nine months in her ideal womb a child of origins uncertain to her, lay at rest. As she ponderously mused and reflected on all the time she had spent with child so far, she herself fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

She awoke to find her long full belly removed of its precious contents, and in that place was left only a heartfelt sense of satisfaction and no worry whatsoever as to the whereabouts or well being of the child which she had come to think of as sacred, holy, and even divine. Mourning was the most distant thing from her mind as every moment up to this one and including it was totally and completely free of even the slightest uneasiness as would be the case with everyone whosoever even came to think of this indefatigable creation the likes of which the world had never before conceived and may never again repeat consciously in a temporally linear reality foundation.

February Fifteenth Two Thousand Twenty One

Now thirty years later, our ideal man's apartment was spartan yet well decorated, the rooms were clean, the pillows straight, and the dishes done in a nearly spotless kitchen. There were some dry goods on the counter, some compost and recycling in a bin together, yet separated with a tiny bag of refuse adjacent in one of the smaller filmy plastic bags that one might receive from a corner store. There was a quart sized stainless steel saucepan and a twelve inch skillet on two of the four eyes on the inactive electric range which did have a couple of spots on it, only just from being shared with friends. On the counter also with the dry goods, there were a kahve grinder and drip kahve maker as well. Further inside the half kitchen opened into a drawing room, though one must navigate around an assortment of deliberate and partially bold papers arranged on a low solid wood table consisting of the main table with a pair of sneakers resting upon a slightly more obscure shelf below with no space between it and the worn down dirty stained and throw rugged soil brown (but swept and deodorised) carpet. On top of the papers was a book of graphic penmanship, and as one walked around the table in the drawing room, one passed to the right of a small coat closet halfway ajar would have been the door with a couple of light blazers hanging over the full length one fold accordion style door that was about two feet wide and seven feet tall. through the drawing room a visitor might have relaxed on a special small couch built for two whose threshold lay at about knee level and was covered in broken-in vinyl, and so worn down with gentle use, the cushions took on a personality of their own amongst each other though they were all originally the same colour, there was an absolutely opposite coloured flat square pillow resting there as well. between that whole thing and a similarly decorated recliner was a half card desk for writing and shaping with a small maquette resembling a spaceship, a small rectangular black cardboard box full of baseball cards, a jar of white paint, a tall cylindrical woven container for brushes -- also black -- and a lamp with a flexible neck of reflective metal and expressing lucidity with a hard moulded and frosted semi opaque plastic flare. Beneath there was a foot locker with a navy blue tone addressed by a small AM/FM/Cassette/CD/Stereo surrounded evenly by a new soft cover novel, a partially filled ash glass, another soft cover novel on a different subject than the first, and a poem in ink on a single leaf of office paper.

Within the recliner he sat writing in his notebook all dressed in ragged black trouser, boxer briefs, socks, shoes, belt, a t-shirt, a long sleeved t-shirt, and a hooded sweatshirt with a pocket on the front and frayed cuffs on the sleeves. They were slightly pulled back to reveal powerful fore arms, and hands of a tough and soft complexion that radiated precise warmth. One foot lay crossed underneath his left thigh between it and the seat cushion area. he was sitting up right, holding a notebook bound spirally and filled with standard horizontal blue lines and more of his writing and drawing.

He was an automated variant drone unit with a memo signal emerging from within his left biggest toe reminding him that if he sat like this for much longer, he might not deactivate the signal.

He wrote with and looked at his amber pencil made of wood and labeled number two. He stopped writing, put down the pencil and paper, and rose walking over to the kitchen for a bite. He then returned through the drawing room, picked up his pencil and paper and fell into the small couch to write some more. the fading light of a day progressed toward darkness and his visuals began to decline in their ability to detect text on paper any more, so he also turned on the light before beginning to write again with the mainframe interface station clearly visible to him across the square room every time he looked up from the current page.

It was coated with black plastic and had two each audio and video conditioners, as well as a digitally manual adjustment signal receiver processing entity. Between that and the recliner (which was to the left) were now two small yet hard plastic shelves about the same height of the couch both flat against the wall surrounding a metallic cylinder with a wire frame lamp on top that had shredder teeth hanging from a middle ring in threes balanced one each to a half of the ring opposing each other and dangling sometimes with the rare but not unexpected jostle by the occasional rogue wave of energy passing through toward upon and past the sculpture which also had a wire frame shade above the ray of light emitting from the relatively proportionate base and that overlooked those same two shelves. The one to the viewer's right supported an appropriately sized again metallic Hindu avatar flanked and halfway facing an allotment of media and a peripheral of the mainframe interface station which had an identical shelf much like the two previously mentioned only placed perpindicular and flat up against and parallel to the wall behind it, and only holding the other mainframe interface system peripheral, some more media, and a coloured and frosted glass representation of an incarnation of Vishnu riding a dragon inscribed in the mould in Chinese must have been the words Help Me Help Me because the form of their characters rose from a free place on the figurine and were plated in gold polish. The shelf on the other side of the lamp was a platform for a toy plastic figurine of a grayish white horse with a black elastic ring around its neck, no mane or tail, a black capital letter A with a circle around it written on both sides of the rib cage in marker, zebra stripes tattooed on its hind quarters, and a metal beaded pull chain from an electric light draped in balance across the curve of its back; one end on each side dangling at equal lengths from its centre which intersected the spine which seemed to just barely rise like a ridge out of the horse's ideal back region. There was also a dainty touch sensitive lamp at equal distance as the plastic horse was from one edge of the shelf to the other.

As the automated variant drone unit continued to write, his thought sensors received and processed every possible stimulus and response combination possible many times per nanosecond and the sum result accumulated upon the page before him in the parlance of the times legibly, and of altogether good form from theoretical algorithms to heart wrenching melodramas, he pencilled in the inevitable futures that were deliberately bound to happen from the very sub-fraction of a nanosecond they met incarnation.

It was awareness of every combination of moments in time altogether possible, inconceivable, improbable, and impossible. It warmed him inside as he collaborated with each one simultaneously satisfying his requirement to uphold observances and their obsession with such behaviour in turn.

The white walls held black ornamentation but they looked pale and yellow in the natural light that came from the lamp. The blinds drew thin white lines across the windows that were black from the awakening night and shone with the lights of nearby towers outside them. he concentrated briefly on the noise of the units nearby that occasionally arose apparently in no particular order while sounding like vocalisation calibration assessment tests or audio adjustment material to his expert sensory devices. Regardless, he knew what he was supposed to do at this moment in time; that was write; and write he did. He also heard transports from outside as they silently moved past emitting only thoughtful psychic exhaust for the automated variant drone unit to gather, and regurgitate mechanically with synthetic yet persuasive emotional servers and expression technique programmed into his behavioural codecs. the rest of its communication technology indicated no approaching changes in behavioural coordination were detected until its perambulation executives were well adjusted and true enough to function again and disturb his creative expression parried comfortably recumbent there on the small couch in a storage division here at level five sector four with relevant visual stimulation at a balanced position for indefinite storage periods . . .by the time this one was over, it would be on for his next upgrade session at the mainframe interface station for the latest updates to his operating system.

Upon completing and receiving updates and orders from the mainframe interface station, the automated variant drone strode standardly across the floor and exited the door which opened before him and closed securely behind him. As its procedural fiber optic processor finalised the detailed specifications. coordinates, style of gait, and personality adjustments it proceeded (emerged from) out of the storage facility systematically prepared to ornament the swiftly becoming lively urban market which was populated by both humans and other drones both variant and uniform in their relative parameter sequences. Automatic variant drone Version 0.T-⁜3(i) was unique in that it had the ability to process animated behavioural algorithms that included many complex functions including irrational and imaginary dynamics which made it appear realistically human from the right distance because of the fluidity and balance expressed by these and other intricate inclusions.

Automated variant drone Version 0.T-⁜3(i) enjoyed synchronising with the different weathers and following behavioural clues that auto corrected its relevant flaws in development from local infra red sensor converters placed strategically throughout the current course. Often it encountered other inhabitants of the market place who were in need of all kinds of appropriate treatment, and if the automated variant drone Version 0.T-⁜3(i) couldn't perform such, it found unequivocal substitutes. The substance of the occasional interactions were indescribable compilations consisting of incomparable relevance and precision of forms holding fast to the most thorough, yet efficient standards of relationship compatibilities. Sometimes the outcome lead to prolonged procedures in proximity to automated variant drone Version 0.T-⁜3(i) which it was well prepared to accommodate with mutual benefice. An interior usage monitor accounted for the many types of sojourns it made in the company of others, and carrying wanted beverages was the highest in frequency of occurrence. So the case happened to be this occasion.

Upon acquiring the wanted beverages the automated variant drone Version 0.T-⁜3(i) joined the collection of beverage bearing figures on their way to 1401 Josephine Street Suite Five Hundred Four in Denver Colorado without interruption or delay, for that is the concurrent result of sound programming. Upon arriving thus, automated variant drone Version 0.T-⁜3(i) delivers aural signals to the media processing security force within. Upon receiving spontaneous entry vectors, they entered the veranda. Its sweeping everything stimuli refreshed the transitional sequences to which they were affected by the insane coordinate parameters that were improvisationally (without planning) updating a perceptions database cross referencing crawler and application.

They remained satisfactorily silent while what amounts to the equivalent of psychic euphoria drew them into a courtyard library. There, they sampled different literary rhetoric codecs from ages passed while their insides almost ached from compatible psychosomatic thermodynamic emotional perception goals transcendent and satisfactory as well. A positional directive transformer assisted the detailed aims of stopping on an apparently meaningless coordinate before proceeding to a final set in the sustained defaults previously mentioned yet in a slightly less grave location, relatively.

The hall representation was persuasive, convincing, and almost seductive in its institutional draw. The impression of late twentieth century gaseous lighting somehow gripped them in a sort of permanence attained indefinitely but with momentum comfortably still with what amounts to digging the cyclic streaming full conscious inside out many phased pleasant massage input data. Their individual security regulations inhibited system corruption overloads, yet the relevantly insubstantial attempts proved to be nothing more than transitionally decorative favourable contacts.
They appeared in offset formats to lean in to the vicinity of their social directive membrane interface parameter until the relative levels of symbiosis were reached. The security force within acknowledged the scheduled invasion interval, and performed adequate procedures to thoroughly decode this anomaly. Upon completing encryption extraction operations, the detected plurality proved generic and harmless yet potentially beneficial. The security force recognised the aural identification variable and opened the communication channels. The three were now interfacing through a narrowly specific sub category of inter-dimensional relativity coordinations.

2009-03-30T00:34:00.002-06:00

glowing glowing glowing glowing 7.r8three0 glowing glowing glowing glowing

glowing .-5+5-. glowing glowing glowing glowing 721.127 glowing glowing

glowing glowing glowing ϯϮϯ glowing glowing glowing glowing 6.3.2. %1/2%

.2.3.6 glowing glowing glowing stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop

٣٠١٩ PLUS stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stops

topstop 6.4./89-5{ــ،؛٩٠ ‡ - )inverted( %? - -- -- ------ - ------ - ------ - - ----------- --- -- -- -- - -- -- --- -- -- - - - --- --- -- -- -- -- --- ---- -- -- --- --- --- - ---- -- -- -- -- -- --- ------ -- ---- ----- --- -- -- --- --- -- -- ---- -- -- --- --- -- ---- - -- -- -- - - - -- - - -- - - --+ - - - -- -- --- ---- ---- -- -- --- ---- --- - - - --- -- -- 0- 0 -- 0 - 0 --- 0 - 0 -- 0 -- 0- 0 -- 0 - 0 -- 0 -0 -0 -- 00 - 0 - 0 - 0000000 --- - ---- --- - - 000 0 0000 --- --- --- --- --- --- --- 000 --- 000 ---000 --- 000 - - - - - -- -- --- -- --- - - -= - -- -- - --+ ++++++- -- - -- -- --- --- --- - - -- --- --- -- --- = -- -- 0- 0 ---

2009-03-30T00:20:00.002-06:00

air horns . . .pshhht . . .⋰⋱. . .addoredulative presnifforcated blth33r1vm2

⋠*#@#&⋡

only because I cretatious maladaptive conformmit1 -⋡ᚧb.oO010Ooµ∛∝∈∟/∑

IN OTHER WORDS, call the whole thing (the inverted) -%/<@> )reciprocated(

but dont you dare go into nanoparticle physics without your sippie cup/-33% of

↯

plus, never leave your green bifurcated sub-inferior pronation out to dry on a

schoolday, capeche?

↺without reason, who in the #@!$% would give a @#$%! about nonsense↻

2009-03-15T19:42:00.002-06:00

ඉංඃඉ-------ඉංඃඉ| | abcdementiabc, : . closed down early

if thinking breakfast, it really is anyt1m3 main thing b33 eeng thrown a b0n3

clamp down on that ({[𐒉]}) with the eawes of gudjarati om i.e. [ૐ]

and in closing the exclusion of boundary perfunctiory dicsclaimant voyantidote

harb0r closed--go to next portal guardian--in case of term life, hey, free voids!

clyearly th(air)s 2 too to [minibot clump] of anhydrous ammonium sulfate digests

in any case .·̇)㉁㉁㉁㉂㉂㉂㉃㉃㉃㈻㈻㈻㈼㈼㈼㈽㈽㈽㈾㈾㈾㈿㈿㈿㉀㉀㉀(·̇. esac yna ni

2009-03-15T19:31:00.002-06:00

מcould somone pl33z3 pᚢss [--__〮 _-+^dkl on ervinty clones--_+=]

becaus3 th3re32 are 2 too to ͚ slkoe 2 :8:8:8:8| conglomerative brain chemisthrees |

holding only [ᄓ] sacred without beginning or ending preclusions to not mention

young alternately inverted quark mechanized fractions could /?\ stricken

blavatistic (only if i _____) leaving a non returnable eternal message of .· <ສ>·.

indefatigable inordinate preclusions of disclaimers have now dah had dah

extingt

with ovulatory olfactions intermined over sed same glyphyk szhtyiemes .:ϨϧሑሐϨ

2009-03-15T19:27:00.002-06:00

Somewhere in the neigb-0-rhoo6(inverted)

,:<{88hopefull anachronistic ad01renm3nt2{<:, should suffice

If only that were the square root of empty set divided by partial ;'nu;

Algorithms

Because 1ndi66erences could 7.3500'' (superscript) מ

2009-02-21T22:16:00.000-07:00

Humble offers of respectfully sustainable ancestral honors

2009-02-21T22:14:00.001-07:00

There may be someone
Who might think
That there is only one path
Each might take through life

2009-02-21T22:11:00.002-07:00

Psychic effects of mob mentality on outsiders

Dissolution of verbal connotation sustenances

Genetic Considerations for relationship compatibility parameter theories

Complex life algorithm source codes

Accurately Specific genetically precise environmental effects when applicable

Lead us to thy impeccably incorruptible way

2009-02-21T22:06:00.002-07:00

Now the moon is new
And in the sign of its fall

If for but a few days
There is respite for all

With springtime approaching
And no one to call

There is nothing impossible
No order too tall

2009-01-29T19:11:00.000-07:00

Assisting to remember

Detecting flaws in certain

Psychic anesthesia practitioners

That were enlisted to

Render a subject unconscious

In a rather somnambulent state

In order to perform

Necessary yet undesirable

Activities

2009-01-29T19:05:00.001-07:00

Agape Symbiosis

Agape symbiosis is an era of living in harmony with all divinity. If Agape symbiosis could, would, or should ever happen on Earth, then the Gods only know what could, should, or would follow. Some might say that would be an era of singing and music. Others might think of it as completely silent and in peace.

2009-01-29T18:59:00.000-07:00

There is an empty cushion on the floor of a small Temple of Siva at the base of the jagged mountains high above the desert.

Smoke elevates from the tiny altar after a recent visit by a devoted local priest.

Now it is empty again as it so frequently is aside from the occasional vagrant who finds refuge in her comforting shelter.

As the afternoon sun darkens behind the treacherously high ridges, the rays temporarily reflect from the chrome representation of Siva above the altar like a kaleidescope onto the stark and comely bare walls of the inexpensive shrine.

Making two dimensional designs radiate through the smoke that twists and swirls through the cooling thin air.

Funeral stiletto pump edge

2009-01-29T18:58:00.000-07:00

A kind person of gentility might with good conscience avoid even the implication of a thought that might even diminutively lead one into a compromising situation.

2009-01-29T18:52:00.001-07:00

I remember the college town down south where my friends lived in odd apartments either in basements or attics, but always in awkwardly shaped abodes.

One might look rustic on a light rainy autumn eve with the amber glow of incandescent light bulbs through shades of different shapes and colours behind the wood framed glass windows in the gray void of an overcast sky.

A layer of damp leaves covers the dirty gravel driveway beneath a few elderly hardwoods who sway enchantingly with the gently undulating breeze.

There would certainly be diversely assorted libations inside to enjoy with conversations, music, dancing, or literature.

There were usually a couple of posters, prints, or photographs on display around the rooms as well as books on or near the shelves including (but not limited to) Kerouac, Hemingway, Salinger, Lao Tzu, and others.

I like the rain, and I stay charmingly awake all night.

2009-01-29T18:47:00.000-07:00

My life can not be digitized

Its time that people realized

That making money duznt

Count for shit in the after life

If you aint growing food

Or teachin fools to be sustainable

Then in my opinion your total set is expendable

Its time to come to terms

That all the business men are useless

If you were self reliant

You could not refuse this

They never get involved

With the infrastructure

They only perpetrate and say

Prepare for the rapture

What exactly can you do

From an office

Im a novice

Can you tell me why that

Skyscraper

Helps us survive

In the wilderness

?

2009-01-29T18:35:00.000-07:00

The next apocalyptic city I would hit

Would be my own and my last

My funeral only a cloud concealed

While I would transcend

From life into the void

And finite eternity beyond

Resting in numb peace through the seasons

My penultimate destiny reveals the insignifigance

Of complex life

With exponential simplicity

And perverse alternate dimensions

Only impossibly subatomic

In relation to the possibilitiess

Those who survive

Holding on to only

Their imaginitive creativity

That no longer means much at all

2009-01-11T14:51:00.001-07:00

The Name of the Young Man Was Don Julio Juan

His father was a priest at the cathedral in the center of the mismo hill top village. He was a sort of liberal priest who allowed dance parties at the cathedral. The villagers loved la salsa, el meringue and el tango as well as some sympatico improvisational indigenous choreography. A family friend had come to visit young Julio Juan soon after his birth and affectionately nick named him 'Don' Julio Juan which every one almost 'fecetiously' accepted. Don Julio Juan however did not dance -- ever.

It was not that he did not approve; he just did not feel like the sort of person to participate. He almost considered it too primitive and/or out of place in time, but he tolerated it well enough. In fact, he enjoyed watching the people in motion, so rhythmic, that sometimes he entered a partial trance himself and time would just fly by as if he were really having fun to the beat of the latest popular local band into the early morning hours of a perfect night.

His mother was always either awake or immediately awoke when he returned home; for she wanted dearly to learn the news of the evening. She always hoped that he would bring home another novia to meet her like he had so many times in the past. His father was always sleeping contentedly, though, only letting out the occasional subconscious grunt or snore. These humble explitives happened so seldom, however, that it rarely bothered his only wife.

Don Julio Juan was not their only child, though. He was the younger brother by two years of an older sister. They were both smart, budding, young, innocent intellectuals; and academics came easily to them. In fact, they were almost completely bored with the ordinary curriculum that the village school offered. Don Julio Juan also excelled at atheletics -- especially el futbol. His sister, meanwhile, studied dance and longed to one day join a magnificent international company while playing the piano classically calmed her through especially on rainy days when it was not feasible to travel the journey of a difficult mile to dance rehearsals. Her artistic endeavors paled, however, in comparison with the love she had for her parents and her little hermano with whom she shared so much in common, yet at the same times so little as well.

So, Don Julio Juan was blessed and cursed with a mother that suffocatingly smothered him eventually to the point of madness with protection, attention, and nourishment while his father never strayed from his work aside from giving the rest of the family an occasional indoctrination on behalf of the beloved yet oppressive iglesia. La madrecita, however, began to take illness and spent many weeks in the infirmary. The marriage faltered, and she soon died an agonizingly painful death over the period of a few weeks.

In the precious few moments that Don Julio Juan had with her immediately before her death, he brought to her a remarkable stone that he collected from the summit of the highest mountain around. He thought that it would show to her how much she really meant to him and possibly absolve him from all of the times that he misbehaved (as children often did there). He left the stone with her, as he could not bear to see her go. He never encountered that stone again, though; but he could not forget it.

The funeral came and went all too uneventfully for Don Julio Juan to even notice in the gentle haze of a newly wrought grief. He began to abuse illicit substances and to be quite popular among the local gangs of ill repute in the area because of the importance of his father and absence of his mother. He fell out of favor with the education and athletic potential that once seemed promising to such a life that was previously so full of optimistic opportunities. In his best attempt to fulfill what he gathered were his dearly departed mother's wishes for his life, he turned to music as a last resort in his feeble -- approaching invalid -- attempts to keep hope for her earnest, albeit informal noblesse oblige alive. He found insufficient sustenance there to even peremptorily maintain any kind of dignity in the face of what was even to him a dark and unexpectedly tragic turn in the melodrama that had become his life.

As a result of these and many more failed attempts at 'saving face,' Don Julio Juan became not only disheartened, but he lost touch with every beneficent faculty that had once so thoroughly graced his yet to be consciously fruitful character. His one remaining hope was with the prayer within him that never ceased. On the verge of seriously attempting to end his own immature existence in the gravest of manners, he began to feel that very prayer swelling up ever so gently within him. It brought comfort and relief to what the experts were calling his 'mental diseases' and to his unsolicited y introverted over exertions.

Where his gaze had long been fixated far below the usual even keel that the village had come to expect from him in earlier days, he began to see glimpses of a new, yet somehow familiar ray of light softly, gently illuminating at first tiny points in the dark abyss of his heretofore neglected period of grief. They seemed even in their apparent insignificance to win him over with their playful persistance, and even the meekest of their nevertheless peculiar behaviours could do naught but enlighten his heaviest predicament. As their efforts began to prove even the slightest bit effective, he began to notice the points grow in to lines -- as if the gods themselves were leading him on, ahead, and forward to a place he had never imagined -- much less conceived.

Don Julio Juan was embarking upon a journey that he had never studied about in school, heard about from his father, or seen in the lifestyles of the people that he admired in town. Though, he could feel a great part of him balk in cautious hesitation to the nuance of such an addictively clever and seductively lucid transcendence, the only words that he could muster were, 'milagro de los milagros!' He became a new person altogether but somehow without abandoning all the important lessons that he recollected from previous days and nights that he had spent with the prayer that had been with him all along, though he may never have noticed. All the while, thereafter too, the prayer was there with him -- comforting him when he felt uneasy, relieving him of the torments from his past that occasioned to haunt him, and protecting him from further nefariousness et cetera et alii that he might encounter in his soon to be universally respectful and nevertheless brilliant while at the same time being indefinitely sustainable future.

Alternate Excerpt:

As Don Julio Juan began to gracefully navigate the transition between what was left of his family life and the society of the neighborhood streets, he began to hear stories of dissent towards what he thought was a just government that gradually changed his mind and political position towards the ruling class of authority. His father being a well respected member of the clergy, he often associated himself with the class of aristocrats who currently ran the country's affairs. But now that he was among the less privileged people who ran the streets. His mind began to change from general satisfaction into a whirlwind of questions to the authorities that he had once just admired. This mutation of his personal constitution eventually manifested itself in the form of open dissent for the status quo poverty was growing among the population as the smallest percentage of people gained control of the majority of the otherwise poor country's wealth and consequently bought more and more influence in the affairs of the allegedly impartial fledgeling government which was creating a snowball effect that could only lead to a society so partial, unjust, and disharmonious that Don Julio Juan began to despair for the future and he swore never to think of bringing children into such a systematically declining state of affairs.

Eventually, the authority learned of Don Julio Juan's growing distrust for their arguably corrupt policies, and they were well aware of his potentially powerful position in society. So they committed him to the state hospital for the mentally ill consequently destroying any chance he might have had to awaken the throngs of zombies in the streets who were clueless about politics, and who would perhaps now never trust Don Julio Juan who was temporarily considered psychologically unfit to persuade.

2009-01-11T14:45:00.000-07:00

Ye Plan of Ole

Going to a café
At dusk
Near the end of summer
Not knowing what to expect
Except the possibility of
Resuscitating a comatose book
From the shelves there
With which to endure
The night

2009-01-10T22:10:00.002-07:00

I found this draft of a four and a half year old message of mine saved on my yahoo account that I don't even know whether or not I sent at all:

Date: Tue, 27 Apr 2004 17:57:45 -0700 (PDT)
From: nonanticipation@yahoo.com
Subject: Poetry

Here are the poems I've written in the past couple of days. These are mostly streams of consciousness but some of the imagery is touching anyway. Don't read too much into them, they're really not as deep as they may seem, and I would not be surprised if any one of them produced a laugh or two.

Age

All around you

Old friend

Bleeding

My knees are bloody from shuffling across the concrete on them

My thumb is numb from the handcuffs

Kissing your bare feet leaves blisters on my lips

Lack of sleep, water, and food renders my body limp

And I collapse onto my side

Gravel digs into my skin

While the scraps of rusty metal that people throw at me

Bruise and cut before they bounce off and

Fall to the ground

With a dull sound

A cigarette burns into my temple

And a toddler kicks my nose continuously

Without the slow rise and fall of my chest as I breathe

Without the intermittently continuous throb of my beating heart

Lightning leaves most of my skin charred and in pain

The stinging ants and bees then attack

Roaches crawl into my nose ears and mouth

Without announcement a truck runs over me

Breaking most of my bones

I’m bleeding bleeding bleeding

Skin is stretched out over the exposed bones

I’m bleeding bleeding bleeding

Bleeding bleeding bleeding

Bleeding Bleeding

Bleeding

Bleed

Ble

Cloudscapes

Cloudscapes swallow the desert whole

And thunderstorms deafen the riverbed

The lightning delivers my love for you

With a vengeance

Some friends are stealing my treasure chest

I already miss the weight

An earthquake enlightens many dancers

Reintroducing us to the earth

I touch the hot core with emotional tendrils

The crust is peeling off like paint

And the loneliest monk interjects politely

Excuse me

Home again with your family

We make fun of your absence

They never suspect how duplicitous they’ve been

And just let go

As a knight lifts the stars out of the sky

Our relationship rearranges the constellations

Invisible magic collapses all around you

And I can not relate this embrace

Futile

Every transaction is criminal

One way or another justice allows stealing

Heartache punishes most

County Jail is vacation enough for the desperate though

They love the primal saint that you hide so well within

Within the intimate surroundings of your state of the art late model heart

Sewing a rupture in the penal code is your mother

She pretends to care when you are there

When you are gone, she really does

I know her well

Futile

In a New Light

In a new light,

Salvation and our souls dance

Acceptable awkwardness defies convention

With reverence,

An explosion closes the ceremony

Tolerance suffices for religion

Cooperating with dead nations

Toll devices mean to exist

But they don’t have a compendium

Play with some toys

In the mean time,

Collectibles could overtake

Yours truly

Otherwise men and women are tiresome

Start over

Arithropraxin

Inhale atmosphere seventeen, sector five

Pensive though it may seem,

Next year is out of the question

This psychedelic quadrant swims

Everyday congenial mentality

Beckoning each other simultaneously

Freezes us indefinitely

While the confusion wears off,

Dreams catch us sleeping

And we forget the simplest blink

And we forget the simplest gesture

Exhale

Jaguar

Exacerbate East [mid-sized great lake city]'s best biscuit

The demons are grooming the devils

In a dark deep dungeon with spider webs and

Labyrinthine passageways that lose epiphanies

The lizards and serpents slither and claw at death

While curses and spells haunt countless zombies

Right outside of [generic town] with a truckload of money

Under one of God’s girlfriends' white flags

Not Quite A Moment Ago

Yesterday’s fruity breath blows forgotten friendships through sacred solitude

Like redundant solar winds, dead air sends rebroadcasts of war to devastation

Eternity listens intently at the campground of ignorance

Postponing inevitable madness on account of the royal atmosphere

Eventually proper etiquette succumbs to emergency behavior

Against the adolescent waves from the lake of self worth

Crafty witches accidentally settle historic feuds as a result of the elementary conditions

Accompanying certain breezes who gaily lilt towards existence

A native thief steals a way with words unspoken

Granting clemency to the beggars of pardon

Who wholeheartedly transplant operations

Ending every depraved crusade near the intersection of space and time

Cowardly criminals plan for today with unabashed confidence

While the future anticipates the certain shakedown of imperfection

Later, justice plays acts three and seven of inadvertent improvisation

Whereupon unleavened lizards rise abruptly against the distant horizon

Pouting

Neighborhood

Around the corner

A pile of wood

On the sidewalk

An old fence

Crying

Our Train is Late Enough

We lean gracefully against the guard rails before a vast abyss

The sound of hooves hammering the earth approaches and departs

Your slender belly bumps me from behind in this our usual embrace

I can not take my eyes off the rainbow through the misty clouds

As your hands slide into my pockets and your chin rests on my shoulder

Sunbeams scan the hard young mountains that press gently into the sky

Our train is late enough

Rational Thought

Fractions of elements in unknown ingredients to the predecessors of letters in an unidentifiable word mind the threshold before an ability to foresee even intimations of negligibly spontaneous considerations that pause during hesitation to freeze with more portions of lofty inclinations suggesting sentiments necessary for the ambition that produces the motivation to collect ideas for the planning of the existence of evidence of agendas involving impetus for a capacity for rational thought

as we commune with the luminous word

Sanctuary and Asylum

Take another last glance at the world

Grizzly underbelly of a forgotten beast

Crawl back to the arms of a lust that remembers

Work off the bloodthirsty romance that drains you

Sleep all day and vanish in the mirror

Only a flower could bloom so

Lazy sunshine fills the room slowly after nooning

Vacant grimaces face cold plastic embraces again and again

The chorus is repeating through white tape noise and static

I love you I love you I love you I love you

It’s just an advertisement

Too interesting to investigate

Too boring to ignore

Daily

Saving yourself is tiring

Everyday someone quits

Don’t bother with conversation

Scream out loud

Daily

Just wait until you’re alone again

Notice this time

Solitude reads your mind like a book

Either way, no one can hear you

Somber relationships exist

Spoiling chicken sandwiches

Taste the next goodbye again

You might like it

Saving yourself is tiring

Everyday someone quits

Don’t bother with conversation

Scream out loud

Daily

Before the Beginning

A reluctant earthworm segment approaching the conception of an idea associated with movement slowly hesitates thoughtlessly throughout an immeasurably microscopic portion of a second when politics confuse themselves in time to prevent the onset of an unpredictably random neural transmission that certainly forces a correctable change in temperature that might indicate an impending meaningless gesture.

Elsewhere, fractions of an electron foresee the vague elements of a consortium where the agenda might include the creation of invitations to future board members who might agree on a plan to summon the attention of the authority to have enough courage to possibly evoke a slight intimation prerequisite to the consideration of an attempt to conceive the existence of the remote possibility of their role in the malfunction of incommunicable emotion

The Summer is Snowing

My woman has tickets to the symphony

She spends all day shopping with me

Then we get ready together

And go

The chauffeur has known her forever

She still likes him

There’s no traffic here

And the sky darkens as we arrive

Everyone is ready

The music works

Afterwards, we stroll through the gardens

She holds my hand

Tightly

I know

The summer is snowing

Treasure Freedom

You, you knew not

Well, you so knew not

Celebrate now, though

It is getting hot and heavy

Without the safety gear

The board of junkies might sell out

Keep to the gutter, now

Corruption fits in well here

Right a long with piety

Righteous hovers around

Right above us on wings

Invisible

2008-12-06T20:23:00.000-07:00

I just saw a decent video of a dance trio. They were doing what looked to me like some improvisational rehearsing on a relatively empty stage in warm up type threads. And it struck me that everything we do is dancing to the open mind. Every breath, blink, and heart beat is a part of the grand choreography of the cosmos.

Too many people hear the word 'dance' and think of a classification like ballet, ballroom, et cetera. They miss the circumstances in which even the most apparently insignificant motions and seemingly inconsequential actions have a role on the universal stage, and are in all honest regards dances in the freest sense of the idea!

Dance is no longer confined to the designated floors and stages. There are improvisations to make in the least likely of places. Perhaps awkward, maybe vulgar, possibly inconceivable moves are nevertheless important contributions to the canon of all actions ever attributed to the cosmic dance of eternity that has neither beginning nor end!

So, do whatever it is that you do! Your life is important! Your moves are essential! There is room for you on the unlimited dance floor of eternity!

2008-12-06T19:42:00.000-07:00

When I think about all that leads up to this moment,
It's overwhelming to me!

More than three decades of preparation for this moment,
And what is there to show, but these words!

Alas, though painfully begotten in part,
Words themselves are not entirely invaluable!

Major religions started with perhaps just a word,
However, this result is not my intention at the moment!

Upon reading much further in the archive,
One may find that I am far from such complications!

No, I suppose it is my wish to simply caress the eyes
With a thoughtful idea, a carefree verse, or an intriguing concept!

Indeed, what faculty of life would there be
Without the persistence of analogous ramifications!

Yea, many are still bound to the dichotomous hypotheses
Of a suppressive school of thought!

While there are yet factions reiterating the diverse possibilities
Inherent to the potential of infinite posthumous alternatives!

So, in weeping--let us weep abundantly,
Not bowing to petty grievences of an obsolete epoch!

In loving, may we love--in our own way--honestly,
With no regard for systems of conformity projected towards us by invalid figureheads!

And in parting, may we part in glory,
Knowing that the space between us is as valuable--in its own way--as our proximity to eachother!

2008-11-29T08:24:00.000-07:00

When it occurs to us that there may be some who are trapped in neglected isolation; who are quite possibly either unaware of their own mistreatment or unable to communicate this knowledge to those who will help alleviate such afflictions. Let our eternal prayers go out to them and ourselves with sincere hopes that somehow injustice can be addressed and concurrently dissolved in good time.
If there is even the slightest uneasiness about in anyone's life, may it be resolved in the timeliest of manners. If we think that we are powerless in such inconceivable duress, remember that we can take respectful action and pray that some miraculous concept will immediately reach them whenever they might be suffering at the hands of a fate fit for no one. Let there be an appropriate angel there to comfort them when there is little else to feel, and even when everything all comes at them at once. For, in our minds, we can know that whatever afflicts our beloved, and even our enemies has an antidote and a resolution fit for application to the given moments with grace, mercy, and compassion of the beneficent powers that await the charges of concerned persons that long to share the good will and accommodation that might seem to have come easily to themselves, but that also confounds in essence the others who apparently also deserve such attentions in these awkward times.
Often people feel the need to travel great distances to address these concerns, but in earnest, I beseech thee to in stillness be vigilant towards the matters that lurk in great proximity to our nearest locales and first appropriate their justice reasonably and do not doubt the powers of simplicity of thought and deed where a great journey only leaves the most imminent dangers free to persist in their vulgarity without the righteous influence of their inherent propriety that often leaves them in search of an inequitable and quite possibly even depraved concept too foreign for even our humblest means to impress. I leave us this day with the highest regards of kindness and divine love and understanding, entrusting the most important missions to intangible, but omnipotent powers that can and will ably address our most pressing concerns more efficiently without the interference of our human imperfections.

2008-11-23T04:42:00.001-07:00

Through Life
I was reportedly an intelligent young man
And I reached for lofty intellectual ideas and truths that began to confuse even me
Then I realized that if there was a message worth knowing,
It would be understandable to everyone
So I decided to simplify my thinking and logic
To a level that I considered universally comprehendable
I eliminated words as a medium because
Not everyone speaks the same language
And a meaningful message might be lost in translation

So, I considered via suggestion body language
As a universal means of communicating

Looking more for a visual context for insight
Rather than through my anglocentric verbalized logic
I found data that was unique to me and me alone
But the method of acquisition is completely universal
That is, everyone can somehow observe the context
Of themselves in relation to their environment and others
But in doing so, each person receives a customized set of
Clues as to what might or should happen next and
Based on that information move more harmoniously
Through Life

2008-11-23T02:52:00.000-07:00

All of the stories we now have come from other people whether divinely inspired or not

These words are human and consequently not able to accurately portray divinity with out imperfection

There is, however, the possibility of a random coincidence where human imperfection can mimic divinity temporarily distorting the truth even more by using these unpredictable chances to reinforce their at best theoretical positions

2008-11-23T02:44:00.000-07:00

nimpo gringo
ghetto snow
got to get mo'

so long be strong
let me know
got to get mo'

green grass
let it pass
how does your
garden grow

i dont know
let it snow
got to get mo'
got to get mo'

let me know
let me know
how does your
garden grow

_______________

going to the cafe at dusk
near the end of summer
not knowing what to expect
except the possility of rescuing
a comatose book from
the shelves there
with which to endure the night

_________________________

prayer is everything and everything is prayer

____________________________

2008-11-19T18:32:00.000-07:00

I do not know what to write but I have not written in a while so I am deciding to just write for the sake of writing in case anyone actually cares

There is no plot or conflict or rising action or even any resolution to speak of here as of yet

I am simply writing I guess to simply hear the sound of the keys

There is no target audience

Neither is there an official goal for this document

I just want to make some noise with the keys on the keyboard

I do not even mind being redundant here

I do not even mind being dull or banal or even god forbid uninteresting

The content of the manuscript is of no consequence for an author who wishes only to make keyboard noise with the keys

This is how I aim to write from now on

No contractions

No periods

No punctuation whatsoever

That just seems fair to me

What if there were repercussions for being so hasty in composing text while overlooking such improprieties as a conjunction or a period

Resting on the beach with a beverage in my gut

There never seemed to be another way out of this rut

With a new technology awaiting snuggle puss and me

In the wasting rotting stench within the seaside hollow tree

Je parle Je parle Je parle une petite

Yo hablo Yo hablo Yo hablo un pequito

Ich spreche Ich spreche Ich spreche ein kleine

I speak I speak I speak a little

2008-11-04T19:30:00.001-07:00

I am the spirit and soul of the nuclear warhead

With world-ending potential.

Mistreated by society

Neglected by most

Ignored by more

With feelings

With emotions

My heart is empty.

My fate is unclear.

My future seems gloomy and

Blanketed with doubt and uncertainty.

Reluctantly brokering my dour potential,

I am undoubtedly at Thy service.

I have desires of my own.

I have dreams,

I have friends and lovers.

All this, I offer to the metaphysical gallows

For the sake of those who gave me life.

For the sake of those I love.

My one ultimate purpose being

To destroy complex life

Shall remain unfulfilled

In deference and respectfully sacrificial gratitude

For even an imperfect journey,

I bleed sacred tears of regret

for my indigence

And it suits me,

But knowing that this precious source of my existence

Will survive is

Sufficient recompense

For my early demise.

2008-11-04T19:28:00.001-07:00

The Invisible Wife of a Homeless Vagrant
_____________________________

She is more than just
A pretty face while
He is nothing more
Than handsome

He compliments her
Complexity with his
Simplicity

He spends hours
Musing of her alone
While she busies
Herself to avoid
The thought of him

She is rich in
Financial wealth
While free time is
Treasure to him.

She drives her excessive wealth of materials

Noisily across his path

She is short with him in his despair and he is

Held hostage by her careless placement of worthy lives

and weeping.

She tours the world in air planes and helicopters

While he never leaves his neighbourhood on foot or bicycle

She has the finest chefs and doctors

While he begs passers by for crumbs to feed his painful hunger in poverty

Musicians and cantors serenade her to sleep every night

While he lies awake tortured by the phantoms that haunt his abode

2008-11-04T19:26:00.000-07:00

I bite my tongue

I bite my tongue

I bite my tongue

I bite my tongue at iniquity

I bite my tongue at injustice

I bite my tongue at this world

I bite my tongue at this life

For, there is nothing I can say to change things.

2008-11-01T11:28:00.000-06:00

Where there is one consumed by affliction,
Embers of hope and comfort soon will appear.
Where there is one drowning in vice,
Beams of light from the surface will grow near.

When nothing but darkness surrounds souls who suffer,
A promising spark will ignite from within them
To illuminate virtues that strife has forged.

So, hate and lie and cheat and steal
But take heart in the eternal promise of
Ultimate redemption.

Justice will grace a life lost to malefactions
And pain will be able to blaze new trails to freedom.

There is no depth too deep.
And no night too dark
For the seductive draw of salvation
To nevertheless eloquently subvert such depravity
With gentleness and patience and devotion
That usurps the stubborn spirit of long
Suffered defeat
In irresistible ways that
Replace addictions to power and greed and lust
With humility, perseverance and steadfast luminosity
In the face of desolation's ghastly shadow.

Where there is one consumed by affliction,
Embers of hope and comfort soon will appear.
Where there is one drowning in vice,
Beams of light from the surface will grow near.

If someone is perpetually confused
Or out of place,
The faith of children will innocently
Lead them to a proper home
In the nurturing arms of good counsel,
And just wisdom will heal the wounds
Of a disastrous past whose elusive
Powers no more will prevail.

For after that coldest moment of the day,
Right before dawn,
A new light will shine with the warmth of all ages
Giving rise to an entirely precious livelihood
That can no longer exist in subordination,
Unwanted bondage, or any other inequity
But that thrives on unconditional love
And mutual respect
Giving no quarter to the situational phantoms
Of impossible circumstances
Out of the new found selfless altruism
That is victorious over mindless egotism
Now, and hereafter.

Where there is one consumed by affliction,
Embers of hope and comfort soon will appear.
Where there is one drowning in vice,
Beams of light from the surface will grow near.

Though no one may be immune
To the persuasive temptations of
An immoral descent towards madness,
There is no cause to fear the illusion of
Hopelessness within.

For, the omnipotent electricity of
Another inevitable renaissance
Pervades any doubt that may
Imminently loom derisively
In the background.
And this regenerative force
That transcends all known realities
Will accurately confront all obstacles,
Overcoming at every turn
Any impediment that may threaten
The success of a harmoniously
Collective uprising that must occur
With all the righteousness and vigor
Of a newly balanced and sustainably
Convenient environment for a thoroughly
Seasoned humanity.

Where there is one consumed by affliction,
Embers of hope and comfort soon will appear.
Where there is one drowning in vice,
Beams of light from the surface will grow near.

2008-10-31T20:08:00.001-06:00

Before dawn this morning, I walked on to the fire escape smoking a handrolled cigarette.

Five levels down, I noticed someone walking on the sidewalk with a dog on lead.

They looked lively and warm, but I just felt dead, cold, and scaley.

When I returned to the apartment, all I could smell was the rotting stench of my armpits.

2008-10-28T20:06:00.000-06:00

Saint Augustine
_________________________________

To ease the bickering, Joe and Mary decided to take a short sojourn into the forest for a few days. They were growing diseased with urban plagues that used their tentacles to massage a couple of brains with intermittent annoyances and debits. In the woods, they could champion the infestations that urban living and debt had afforded them.

They each packed one carry on suitcase, loaded them in the car, and left.

On the way, they managed a comfortable silence between them; only interrupted by the music and talk coming from the satellite radio sound system. Mary's one distraction was the i-phone as it often respectfully interrupted her from the pleasant hypnosis of the journey into nature. She would only leave it behind when the car stopped out in the wilderness.

1.After a long day of driving together, they gracefully slid into an inter-dimensional time warp and began to mobb aliens that had taken over the planet twenty centuries into the future.
2.The car never stopped. In fact, it is still driving to this day, and Mary's i-phone just kept interrupting.
3.Eventually she discovered an asana in which she could comfortably operate the phone without injuring herself.

Anyway, when they arrived, they smoked a joint together and their spirits rose as they walked underneath the canopy of the rain forest. They heard birds and avoided stepping on bugs as they continued into the damp coolness that began to flood them with refreshment. They felt small next to the uncut oaks and poplars whose massive trunks towered between the forest ceiling and the soil which was dark, moist, and spongy beneath them.

One particular bird flew right up next to them and perched on a head high shrub in front of them. Their hearts almost disintegrated when the bird suddenly deanimated and fell the the earth dead. They both instantly began to weep together on each other's shoulders in eachother's arms sobbing. If only Mary had brought her i=phone, she could have run a veterinary lifesaving application and revived the bird in seconds!

Joe and Mary were now enjoying a completely ruined expedition—or so they thought.

Out of a hovering bank of fog that had accumulated nearby, materialized the specter of St. Augustine translucent radiant relaxing. They began to fall asleep until he gently raised his hand and began to speak. Their chests pulsated as he said Wassup homies? Don't get bummed 'cause the bird died. Be grateful for this valuable lesson that could forge a brilliant character within you if you chose to accept that it is for the good.

St. Augustine then disappeared, leaving the couple feeling redeemed.

Instantly, they both knew that they needed to find some skinny jeans to try on. Everyone was wearing them, and it would be a shame if they didn't find out what they look like in them. Plus, after this trip through the woods, it would have been too long between shopping trips. Tom knew of a sale at one store and Mary had a gift card from the same store.

They felt very hungry all of a sudden and decided to build a fire and cook and eat the bird that would have rotted if they just left it there. After they eat, they cleaned the bones and made jewelry out of them and put them in their piercings, chanted out to God and fell asleep. They both woke up and squirted all over their clothes, so they rinsed off in a nearby stream.

Through the grey pre dawn myst, they walke back to the transportation and left. As Mary drove them back to the city, Joe fell back asleep and dreamed of metal eagles and antique weapons and when he woke he remembered nothing but they arrived at their warehouse in the city. The parking lot was right next to the train tracks and looked like old cracking black top with faded lines and lots of loose rocks and weeds.

Inside, it was well insulated and they instantly felt very cozy. The custom home sound system detected their presence and mood before selecting music to compliment that information. Mary checked the email, and Joe checked the voice mail but the cat's meow interrupted them and they really loved that cat. So, they gave it food and water and affection. Damn, they loved that cat.

Joe found a message for Mary and Mary found an email for Joe. They shared a lot in their lives together. They loved to take walks. So, after they responded to all the communications, the took a walk. They were such fans of perambulation, that they made sure to have some every business day. They saved many tokens by choosing this free form of occupation. They could have saved more tokens by replacing the cat with a smaller animal perhaps a rodent or insect, and definitely a turtle, but they loved the cat too much. They have plenty of tokens. They were good at the token economy level.

On their walk, they had been comfortably silent together for way too long and they began to mentally drift apart, but they were still walking together physically. They liked to walk together physically, mentally and spiritually, but sometimes circumstances left their control useless. They remembered what St. Augustine had said and they obeyed.

They planned a tobacco ceremony, but they couldn't find a qualified shaman on as short a notice as they wanted. Astrology was very important to them, and they new that it was more auspicious to have it soon, before the cosmos transformed into an incompatible paradigm. They saved tokens by not having this.

Their tokens seemed less important though than reuniting mentally after their recent mental drift apart. They had had these before, but that was a different paradigm. They new it would pass, and they remembered the skinny jeans again and they had to have them. They went online and ordered them to be delivered next day air. They could wait one day, but no longer. This was crucial. Mary wanted to try some that showed her coin slot. Joe wanted to put tokens in it.

Skinny jeans had reintroduced them to mental unity by way of the memory of St. Augustine.

They decided to spend the evening in the shop building furniture. They felt guilty for using all the furniture they had without contributing some of their own. They built tables and chairs and shelves and cabinets. They relieved their furniture guilt in no time. Then they felt very pious before bed. They slept like babies together.

When they woke up, they each drank a half gallon of wheat grass juice and bounced around the room very spiritually expecting their skinny jeans to arrive later. They were sure that St. Augustine would love to see how they looked. Who knew, they might just wear them once and send them back for someone else to enjoy. They did that a lot and they were sure it had happened to them before, positive!

2008-10-22T18:17:00.000-06:00

I do not think much about the hallucinations anymore. That stuff gets me down and I have moved on. I am different! I am free to put in the time I need to develop the creative process in this life. It is moving very slowly right now. It is steady though. I am toughening up my image by summoning darker adornments. It was very cool today and overcast as well, but it did not rain. It misted steadily last night. It was nice. I also caught a mouse temporarily! From across the room, I heard the trap close, but by the time I got over there, the mouse was gone!

For the past two days I have noticed a cool chair out on the porch of a distal neighbor when I exited the city bus. It seemed to beckon me to run away with it, but as I grew near, the semblance faded. That episode ended serenely.

Last night in the mist, the downtown skyline was not visible and Denver looked like it could have been anywhere. Of course, I was at least a mile high!

I changed from a coaxial cable between the satellite receiver and the standard television to an 'S-Video' with the RCA cables, and now the sound and picture are remarkably different. I also have a better perspective now that I cleared the space in the middle of the drawing room and pushed all the furniture out against the walls. It is much more open now (good for greatness). I have been working more efficiently if you will. I seem to have created a post modern pagan death punk living space. I decided not to illuminate the string of blue lights.

A moth just flew in the window.

9 September 2008

Sometimes I think about something before I do it, and other times there is a difference. Sometimes, I apparently act without thinking. There I think is evidence of a relationship between thought and the interaction of individuals with themselves and the environment.

Personally, I think there must be something to that. The odds are against it, though.

Why is it possible to plan a simple activity beforehand then carry it out in the universe and other times it is necessary to act spontaneously?

I am informed that reality is a sort of function of probability. I might then assume that planning simply adjusts the probability of certain event(s); therefore altering reality somewhat, but does that explain the spontaneous event(s)?

Is the probability of spontaneous events more significant because they are planned without our knowledge?

Of course, our environment must be elastic in a way in order to accommodate these different activities. For instance, one person might plan a walk around the block for an hour beforehand while another simply bolts(idiom?) out the door seemingly unforseeably(new word?). Yet both most likely will enjoy similar conditions on this hypothetical walk.

In either case, where does the idea or catalyst for these (re)actions originate? Furthermore, it is my experience that these notions themselves tend to come in the form of language—in particular—English. (Later I intend to transform them into more realistic pictures instead of words, but my early development conditioned quite a different scenario). That raises the question of reconditioning our brains to submit to a different set of parameters. Suppose there is a force that governs action today that has always governed action throughout history--a “thought source” if the term is copacetic. The role of our genes for example is simply to interpret this wellspring of life. Then again arises the question of what it is that governs the interaction of these different interpretations with each other in the universe.

Is it seperate from the “thought source?”

Are they the same thing?

If they are different, then are they connected?

If they are connected, are they then harmoniously balanced?

Perhaps I seek to uncover specific universal authorities that create the random probability of reality. Maybe it is not as random as I think!

Where does all this shit come from?

Yes, these words are English.

Let us discover what influences their order.

Is it what we see?

Is it what we smell?

Is it what we hear?

Is it what we touch?

Is it what we taste?

Maybe it is a just combination of everything—a gestalt force—that does not simply regurgitate the information available, but that instead combines all that into an original stream of consciousness. So, I am concentrating on the brain area that assimilates all of the stimulating data and converts it into 'thoughts' and/or 'actions.'

Okay, so the brain collects data from/through all of the different avenues and then distributes it carefully through others. Thoughts seem to be products and/or indicators of the brain communicating with itself fruitfully. What if these linguistic thoughts were eliminated and thus allowed the brain to function more efficiently?

Is Broca's area really even necessary?

Presumably, there are people who do not think verbally as much as others and certainly many include other languages than their native one.

Maybe I should learn another language; the sensually holistic one. The one that concurrently plans a life that occurs seamlessly within both the universe and harmony.

What constitutes a choice?

Somehow, the brain actually produces multiple options from which it chooses one course of action to pursue.

How specifically does this happen?

What neurons are involved?

Which neurotransmitters are active?

Are hormones affected?

How does the mind maintain one train of thought throughout a nonspecific environment?

Should all this be instinct?

What else is there anyway?

If instinct does not in fact determine us, then what (actually) does?

What precisely is instinct?

What is intuition and from where does it arise?

What is the difference, if any, between instinct, intuition, and impulse?

When did humans begin to think, plan, and organize; and why?

Why do most of us only remember certain things and not others?

Why remember at all?

Presume that forethought and spontaneity are functions of the same equation.

Maybe a random symphony of cosmic events contributes to these circumstances and this also might account for forethought—it being basically a slower manifestation of these variables of probability that might be subject to the ego and/or subconscious operations.

Writing this actually helps to organize and develop a form of expression while acting to create the illusion of time passing more quickly. It is also fascinating because it is sort of an Anglicized translation of the effect the universe is having on me at this moment. I am contemplating also the subconscious and I am searching for a suitable moniker that combines subconscious and conscious into one holistic system that is not really separate one from the other. I temporarily call it the soul for lack of an eclectic term.

I do not like to differentiate between conscious and subconscious because I think of them as one complete system. However, I digress and it only goes to imply that the subconscious v. subconscious issue does not in fact factor into this equation since there really is no boundary between them.

Through the harmonious cultivation of reflective communications we can not only make our own life better but also in so doing contribute to the copacetic evolution of others and our environments as well.

Recently, it has become no big secret that intentions (bi-products of communal sensory perceptions?) can to a certain extent determine our relative success and/or failure. It seems imperative to consider an infinite array of possibilities, and to form our own intentions that are also copacetic with any number of random combinations of such circumstances. This might require ill formed, terminal, yet flexible intentions and an observant and comfortably thorough outlook throughout a mindful life.

Personally and currently, being a predominately verbal thinker, I aspire to develop these intentions in a more sustainable asceticism. Therefore, not limiting any source code at any given time to one language.

Sometimes I actually think that it would be a step backward to unlearn a native tongue, but it is possible to sustainably save any acquired knowledge in balance with any forthcoming amendments.

I look at a chair

I do not always think “chair”

Listening to instrumental music actually causes or at least encourages a brain to engage in a linguistic thought process cognitively mapping what those sounds would look like, I challenge myself with the relief I find through completely unrelated topics somehow.

So, to some extent we may chose our own compatible course in life. Contrarily, there currently are entities beyond our control, but they seem to be a beneficent consensus of the voices in our heads right now.

But why are they voices instead of pictures, music, or scents?

(Presently, I would say that is because of my aging conditions).

~changing environments alters consciousness~

What if thought itself is actually controlled by an extra terrestrial or inter-dimensional source.

Never mind that!

The effects on earth of inter-dimensional or extra-terrestrial entities is not significant enough to be a factor. I know it is true! I heard it from the television!

So, in the vastly unexplained and as yet immeasurably large universe, there is a speck called earth where a species of complex life is producing Anglicized thought that often leads to action in coincidence with a collaboration of seemingly random variables in the local environments. Often they can relate and even astonishingly agree with each other, often and possibly much more likely—they do not.

Sometimes I think text of a sort is of some sort of foreign and inappropriate entity. It just seems too out of place in this universe. Maybe this is why I consider verbal thinking such a impediment as well.

How many times has something unfortunate happened due to thoughtless word choices?

All too often it seems to continue. I guess, though, that the benefits outweigh the consequences overall. Otherwise, life would be different and this manuscript would not exist as such! So maybe verbal skills are a successful survival adaptation in a collectively human organism. Words are now a necessary bi-product of cognition that we use to communicate with each other and ourselves. That is not even the issue though. I am happy to say. I guess what I am saying is that within the brain there is an area dedicated to converting stimuli into verbal response. To me this is a useful accessory but not altogether necessary for ubiquitous survival. As an accessory, though, it allows one the ability to prolong, suspend, personalize, customize, and otherwise tweak existence among other things.

Our intentions often materialize as a consequence of speech as well. We should be very careful in that if we allow them to exist only in words, this could limit our opportunity to capitalize on them if there are non-verbal clues to these opportunities and we cursorily ignore them based on the verbal information that is available.

I guess I am saying that it is possible to get so caught up in the language that we can lose sight of the ultimate goals or the 'big picture.'

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!?!?!

But, hmm . . . does that mean that the language produced in the brain somehow can touch the nerves that produce action?

Now, I am again drawn to the 'soul' issue that effused earlier. What I am now saying is that the words are always there, but a person is not conscious of them until they crystallize in the mind. When they crystallize in the mind, they are then CONSCIOUS THOUGHTS until they either interrupt or transform into action[.]

I do not think of the subconscious like Freud and/or Jung. I simply see it as the autonomic processes of the body. The ones that 'we' do not 'control,' but that are necessary for survival. Why is survival so important anyway? The end of life on earth in the scope of this monstrous universe is really not even significant on a universal scale.

Cogito

In fact, nothing that goes on here even has a significant affect on our nearest star—a slightly bigger, but still ultimately insignificant in the exponential gigantic nature of the known universe.

10 September 2008

Sometimes I find myself revising and editing my thoughts and waiting until they are well manicured before submitting.

Over the past decade, I have gradually noticed the nostalgic memories of the crazy lustful loves of youth degrading over time and I wonder if I will ever even love someone else maybe not in the same way, but at all.

It is a relief though not to be burdened with thoughts of and old love so much.

Learning to let go is the beginning of a long process—long but sustainably rewarding at the same time.

In the Greenwich Meantimes, I have gotten into organizing things differently. I have actually learned to appropriate cleanliness and order to and extent that I never did before, but not obsessively.

I guess that I always desired that, but it has only been lately that I have had the circumstances available that are also conducive enough for such endeavors.

If everything in the universe is made up of sub-atomic particles, particles, nuclei, atoms, molecules, et cetera ad nauseum; then to me it seems that people are no more or less significant than rocks or trees or whatever else—just different organisms of the building blocks that shape existence. Then there is dark matter. I will maybe have more to say about that when the Large Hadron Collider officially becomes operational near Switzerland.

Right now, the known specifications are too vague and/or theoretical to consider. All I know is that dark matter is what makes up the largest part of the known universe and it might be what is left when nothing else is.

9 October 2008

Density Gradient

Synthetic Fusion

I know the routine and I'm good at it!

Thermodynamic Ashtrays

Some of the nicest people on the bus are blazed out of their minds!

Now I am just writing because I am on camera, and I need something else to do.

Well, that is prolly gist 'bout NUFF SED!

2008-10-22T16:37:00.000-06:00

22 October 2008

I've been in Denver now for three years. Hard to believe, but not so much so in relation to the more than a decade that slipt by under the guise of education. Too bad I can't remember a damn bit of it. My guess is that if I could remember it all, it might just be too overwhelming.

So should I be thankful that I am completely oblivious to almost everything in my past?

On the other hand, it is possible that all that experience sort of consolidates itself into a sort of subliminal network of learned behaviors that require no accompanying memories to apply them. They might just get in the way.

Anyway, I've been noticing certain signs. I recently set a stone tile into a tabletop. When I walked through downtown, I heard a street musician singing, “Now, my heart is made of stone.” It made me think that my table might be the soul of that singer, and by dropping a tile of stone into it, I had hardened his heart. Furthermore, I've been noticing some effects of artwork that goes beyond simply being a beautiful sight. I found a sort of black plywood canvas in an alley and I cut a blue ripple 2x4 out of a magazine and glued it to the black plywood 48x48. Later, as I sat meditating with it hanging on the wall I noticed that I was feeling very black for a while, then in the middle of all of it, I felt a sort of rippling blue tranquility like the small blue ripple in a large field of black that still hangs there on the wall.

When, I walked to the bus stop I felt an amazing gravitas pull me into the shelter. It seemed to be coming from the guy who was already standing in there. I waited there on one end of the shelter for a minute, and it went away. For the sake of caution, I waited for a while on the bench nearby. While I was waiting, my homeboy walked up. “Amazing,” I thought. If I hadn't been drawn into the shelter for that minute, I would have jumped on the bus and been gone without ever seeing my friend. I found it almost chilling.

Even with all this happening, I feel doomed at times. Doomed to either be trapped by my own warped logic, or controlled by someone else's. I've been saying that I'm not interested in making money, and that I'd rather have intangible rewards.

Is that a load of horse shit or what?

Really, though, I guess what I'm saying is there are certain things that money just can't buy. I know it might sound weak to some, but just trust me, okay!

The wind is absolutely howling outside the windows, and it is very cold this morning. Soon, the snow will fall, and we will see snow cover the mountains again.

What a relief!

I hope my heater starts heating soon.

2008-10-21T18:03:00.000-06:00

The Misfortune of Beginning

I accidentally enabled transliteration on my first entry and consequently lost all that data trying to undo it

Anyway, I am sitting here in a cafe in Denver enjoying a 'dirty chai' that is a chai (this one happens to be a local brew that is heavy on the ginger tres bien) with a shot of espresso. I am very happy with the combination of the flavors on a day like today.

The sky is dark and there has been intermittent precipitation all afternoon. This place is cozy and warm with satellite radio playing over the speakers and a light crowd of patrons also computing, studying, et cetera.