thank you for stealing this book.




















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CHAPTER#1

A shiver, unexpected but gladly accepted, tickled its' way up the old dog's spine--the smoke from his hand-rolled Cuban cigar only accented the moment--the curves of his fine leather chair held him like a newborn child, warm and worn in just right, he fit, he finally fit, this old dog fit right into the niche his ancestors strived for so long to carve. He leaned back, basking in the glow of his own glory--his triumph over the billions who wanted him dead. Never a dull man, he knew just who his enemies were--he'd slid the knife in so graciously that they still sent Christmas cards. Our man, a star from the very beginning--nanny always said--and father kept his promises too, with a little prodding, of course.
He closed his eyes and sighed, puffing proud smoke from his pert well-aged nose.
"Cecil--pour me a brandy, today is a good day"
The nude black boy danced in, oiled, gliding across the room on silent toes. He watched the boy's every movement, taking careful note of his every muscles' supple tension. As he moved, the guilded tray with its' delicate cargo stood motionless on his young fingertips.
Our man sat back, proud of his puppet, until--something was wrong, their eyes met--two infinities converged; the boy's hand faltered and they both could only watch, horrified, as the perfection of the moment shattered on the polished oak floor.

The boy stood frozen: silence roared and pressed against the fragile mind of our man--his peace was broken. Both trembling now, they met--the boy stood motionless as a storm befell him, white hot anger searing his tender face over and over again. A maniac now, David struck the boy with all of the strength God gave him. He was no fool. The boy could take no longer, he collapsed to the floor in a desicated heap.
"Get up!" David screamed-- "Get up now, contemptable boy!"
His quiet sobs only enraged David further, smashing the calm logic he had spent so many torturous hours to create--destroying his dreams of perfection--his mind could only grasp one concept now, a feeling of powerlessness, a total loss of control over his pristine situation. The room would forever be tainted with the stench of the boy's sweat.
The fires of passion had ebbed now, his great climax was complete. David turned his back to the boy--banishing him from his thoughts forever.

Cecil arose in silence, his fine form marred by the twisted hand of his only master. He hadn't a shadow of an idea as to what would come next. Born in bondage, he had only known one God--a terrible force of nature whose every perverse whim he took selfless pleasure in satisfying.


"sex-drive" is a myth.
"oversexed" is a myth.
any label you can put on predatory sexuality is a fucking myth. it's that simple. predatory sexuality is the result of a Society that has created a God Complex in its' people.
allow me to explain. it's time to go way back in time to when this "New World" was discovered by the Europeans. forget about the Africans, the Norse, and those Native Peoples (most history texts do, anyway)--we are talking about "pure" European Stock here.
what "God given luck" they surely had to be on the crest of the great wave of Capitalism (pestilence), and what a terrible misfortune for anyone caught underneath it.
or, to put it simply... what would YOU say if someone offered to sail you across an ocean into an entirely different continent that has just been "discovered" full of friendly slaves to do your every bidding (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) and nice small villages where other people just as mad with greed as you are can get drunk all day and make tons of money exporting the fruits of "free labor"?
oh and if you get bored and need some intellectual stimulation, why not join in on our fledgeling Democracy? you too can help create The American Lie! convince millions of people to live in a country where only the upper class is "free" and the slaves don't even know they have rights!
boom. it's that simple. years of that and you actually wonder why people in america carry guns??
god complex.
or:
I WANT MY LIFE THE WAY MY FAMILY HAS ALWAYS LIVED, TO HELL WITH ALL OF THE NIGGERS.
cognitive dissonance.
I WANT MY LIFE THE WAY MY FAMILY HAS ALWAYS LIVED. GIVE THE NIGGERS THEIR GHETTOES. OH AND THOSE REDSKINS, JUST SHOVE THEM OFF OF THE CONTINENT . THIS IS OUR LAND, AFTER ALL, EH?
oh yes, it is YOUR land, friend.
your land of oppression.
your land of hatred.
your land of greed.
your land of violence.
your land of illusion.

BEEEECUUUUZZZZ
THIS IS MY LAND
OH THIS IS MY LAND
FROM CALIFORNIA
TO NEW YORK I-LAND
AND IF YOU WANT IT
YOU'D BETTER TAAAAAKKKEEE IT
THIS LAND BELONGS TO ME, MOTHERFUCKER!

do you see now? do you see how this relates to predatory sexuality? predatory sexuality is just another offshoot of Manifest Destiny. just another drunken night forcing your penis into the anus of a ten-year-old injun girl. just another dirty secret behind a barn with a nigger and a whip in hand. just another step FURTHER. just one more little reason to call yourself BIG MAN.

I'VE GOT A GUN AND I'VE GOT A DICK. IF YOU DON'T MIND THE ONE, THE OTHER DO THE TRICK.

your "Democracy" is nothing more than a lie you tell yourself so you can sleep at night while a human being who happens to have brown skin sways silently from the tree in your front yard. your "ideology," if it is not based on your own choices, is a fucking lie you cling to while your daughter cries herself to sleep. did you enjoy it, BIG MAN?

do you think your God will forgive you, BIG MAN?
why not buy her a nice new dress tomorrow with your fat paycheck, BIG MAN?
hell, why not make a night of it and go see if your son's having a wet dream, BIG MAN?
oh... but wait, all gay men go to hell, don't they, BIG MAN?
you wouldn't be caught dead with your dick inside of another man's ass, would you, BIG MAN?
you'll never tell them about your "best friend" in grammar school, will you, BIG MAN?
you'll never tell them how you still hate the niggers, will you, BIG MAN?
it's time for another drink, isn't it, BIG MAN?
you need to rest from a long, hard day's work, don't you, BIG MAN?
why don't you go pop one of those pills a doctor "friend" gave you, BIG MAN?
you think drugs should be illegal so the poor won't rise up, don't you BIG MAN?
you sleep with a gun under your pillow, don't you, BIG MAN?

BIG M I N is more like it.

what a fucking joke.




,
the world does not need cowboys.

actually, to be quite honest, the world has never needed cowboys.
cowboys are the very symbol of american alpha-male ideals. they are giant egos stuffed into dirty shirts and faded skin-tight (to show off the massive cock, [a-doodle-doooo!] of course) LEVI$ with optional coyly-placed rips and mud splatters (don't forget the cum stains.. this cowboy has a pair of two-ton balls that will explode if their lifetime companion isn't forcefully sodomizing a pre-teen "indian" girl or the more mature 21 year old bar slut [woman?])--and to top it all off a pack of MARLBORO CIGARETTE$ protruding from his shirt pocket, because when he's out on the range, a relaxing drag from the tobacco he had to kill a thousand innocent native american people for really helps him reflect on how big his daughter's tits are.

we all know, deep down, (unless you're an idiot, or a cowboy, or both) what the world needs.

the wold needs intellectual decisions based on the needs of all of its' people and the planet they live on, a universal equality in rights for all life forms, and a strong emphasis on relating to all of the thousand names of God through personal transcendence.

in short, the world needs "indians".

what if there were some form of virus that killed every adventurer that dared enter the land that would later be known, unfortunately, as "America"?
what if the existing native tribes were to go on to build up their societies and religious beliefs and through a succession of golden ages (hell... two, at the most) evolve them past the customs of sacrifice on the physical plane (which really wasn't all that common... but i'll save the treatise on how the west has falsified its own history for political gain) and more into a personal sacrifice of rampant egotism that one would have to make oneself?
what if these societies developed faster than our current one in a sense of technology ( a very real possibility, just look at the aztecs, maya, etc.), but keeping their ideals of serving the earth in tact, developed only the technologies that would work in harmony with human nature and with the earth itself?
what if these societies joined together peacefully out of a respect in the harmony of their religious beliefs to use the resources that the lands that would have been called America and South America provide, without harming the environment, and after taking what they needed, shared the bounty with the rest of the world?
what if this outpouring of peace and tolerance from the very fruitful nation in the west changed how every other country in the world operated, simply because with its' abundance of natural resources, it was too powerful to deny (much like it does today but to a very negative effect)?
what if there were peace on earth?
is it really such a strange idea.. if you think about it hard enough and try to force your mind out of the ideals that have been implanted into it by American Kulture?
what if instead of being of aryan descent (or one of the many slave races that have been shipped in or tricked into coming) you were native american?

but, unfortunately... the explorers didn't die. they became cowboys. because, like cowboys, they came prepared with their guns (a sick idea that any peaceful and intelligent society would have never came up with)
and now the descendents of all of our "indian" (fucking Columbus, egotistical bastard) brothers and sisters who survived the blankets covered with infection and the long walks with little food or water are so weak politically that they are confined to "reservations"

this fact alone angers me to no end...it's the fucking cowboys who should be in reservations! those fucking high horse steppin' ignorant bastards with their guns and cocky attitudes who rape the earth and their fucking children!

even though the cowboys were much less intelligent than their "indian" counterparts, they made up for this with the aforementioned FIRE POWER and a lack of compassion (cemented by their puritanical religious ideals) for their fellow human beings, er-"savages".

so now we're a nation of COWBOY$ and COWGIRL$ with BIG DICK$ that take stimulants and BIG TIT$ filled with saline solution.
we drive BIG CAR$, live in BIG HOU$E$, and force our BIG DICK$ into the tight little VIRGIN HOLe$ our binge-and-purge-better-living-through-chemistry wives of 44 just had sculpted and shaved clean at the local chop shop.

hell, sex doesn't even tickle the old pickle anymore thanks to the COCK RING and our wives not being the eternal 13 year old girl we yearn for them to be (damn perverted beauty standard based on business trends and female suppression!).. but it's ok, there's always the internet whose rampant pedoscatbdsmetc.mpegs will at least rouse an erection that good old rosy can squeeze really hard and we can imagine being in the back of that van, the lights of the handycam shining on us force-feeding our HARD COCK$ to that pimple-faced teenager we never got to BANG back in HIGH$CHOOL.

we're dumb too, just like any good cowboys should be; and because of our countless supply of FOOTBALL PLAYER$, cheerleader sodomizers, and eventual KORPORATE COWBOY$ with an ego-driven need to spend all of their $BIG MONEY$ on bigger guns because learnin' is the pursuit of faggots, women (oh no!), and liberals; we're also getting dumber by the day.

i guess the "moral" (ha, another stupid western idiom.. based on the ideal that "good" and "bad" are separate entities) of this is that in america, it doesn't matter what you can say (or even pronounce), as long as you've got a big fat loaded gun in your hand.

just ask the president.


so kids, aren't you glad the cowboys won and we've got a crime-ridden (blatant race and class repression), drug-addicted (boredom and lack of education for the youth), and over-sexed while simultaneously sexually repressed Nation full of lazy rapists and the under-appreciated women who are demoralized into putting up with them?

well let's just hope for your sake that some doofus guarding the Big Red Button buried under southern california doesn't fall asleep and bash it with his thick skull, sending ICBM's a-flying!
or better still, one of those "terrorist groups" that we're a' fightin tooth and nail decides to (understandably?) pull the big one and nuke us first!

for all you know (or don't know because of the corporate+government+media power matrix) one of these already has happened.


SO WHAT ARE YOU GONIG TO DO BEFORE THE NUKES FALL, COWBOY?

i'll lay you odds it will involve a forced sexual act... or the thought of one.




God Bless America.

















CHAPTER 2




lou reed knew--every party is a sham. life is a brilliant speck of dust and you are busy spreding your mask across the cold vomit blanket of alcohol. uppers are the brush that strokes god's thousand eyes but barely touches on the semblance of control. chaos rules and there is no tee shirt that could possibly represent that sentiment. i bet you a million dead that your system is old and in its' haggard selfishness it has forgotten the very reason from which it was founded. there are no cancers here. i cannot express the beauty that pours through the whte window pane, something like a thousand stinging needles breaks behind one's eyes as it just melts into itself. he, she, it, what, who?

one.

the only way to tap into the lessons of life is through your own subconscious. i try, but it's diffifcult--this concious mind, you see, it's a bitch to slide. the fucker keeps chiding my every motion--i don't deserve the lines and silent speckled moments that it always gives me. is god an it? questions work-especially the big ones, they open up the little greedy doorway where the subconscious bursts forth. ah yes god is an it,is a what,is a who--not.
GOD IS NOT A HUMAN BEING
that much is simple but what about our little ant's revolution, you know, we don't believe in the cosmic all? well that's a tough one i'll have to ponder that one a bit. let's see... so imagine yourself in a world without god-sounds pretty good to those hedonists out there, i bet they're just licking their chops to split some skulls and bust some balls for this one.--but wait--why do we hope?
why?
are we all mad? perhaps... but who cares? if we are then "not i" said the fly.
i'll let you in on what keeps me from shitting on my own face--slef-fulfilling prophecy.
i believe that whatever i blelieve in will become my beliefs.
it's that simple... enough energy and we made these gods and they're all up there laughing.
because in the biggest sense, this rock we live on doesn't mean shit. but when it comes down to us-- to our lives, loves, revolutions, well....
that's our job!
get it?
i think of great ideas like magnetic poles that pull the souls of All People forward through whatever shit they might be in at the moment. things have not changed much, people. read your history. i mean really fucking read it, don't just sit there and think back to those long hours in your highschool American Bullshit class. they have the weapons but if nobody uses them then what? oh are you afraid of those madmen who are living far out in some texas wasteland underground secretly plotting to blow the earth's surface to shitma hairy fishnuts! ka-bozzwell!
who cares??

just LIVE for crissakes.

it's that easy. (and GODDAMNMOTHERFUCKINGHARD) so what about mysery? pain? the death of innocents? a boot crushing the lungs of an angel with tears in her eyes. that's painful shit, man. terrible horrible detestible bullshit asswipe get-the-fuck-off-of-my rock-or-i'll-shoot-you anger. seething rage and love. the same energy--don't believe me? talk to your significant other for an hour. or hell, talk to your mother. hug a goddamn tree and tell the stereotypists to stick it. take to the water like a baptism--hallelujah!
carve your name on a cloud with your finger, because it's only important the longer you linger. laugh at yourself for the love of All! please!
but never forget in every moment in every second in every speck of time that's there you have to be the one that you know you can be.
and if you always operate on this level you will have your revoltuion--because everyone will want to know what's up with you! they're all so fucking bored and tired of reading dead letters carved on tombs..those dusty madmen have no idea what this time is like! wake up! it's time for the new mumbling acid prophets to point their filthy fingers at the eye of god and say " LOOK GODDAMN IT LOOK! IT'S NOT PRETTY IT JUST IS! OK? IT JUST IS!"

and that's all the pretty i will ever need. your life can be better than those books you are reading your life can be better than the life of jesus--there are more drugs! your mind can plunge the depths and soar the heights man and all you have to do is not vomit. just jump ship and tell the old farts to keep the steam coming. right now we crawl and slither through their Great unt Powerful System but that's just fine by me. because once we have leeched our little dirty fingers deep into the cracks of their God of war, well, we'll just BLOW THE FUCKER'S HEAD OFF WITH LOVE.
see? and we can satisfy that urge to kill and love at the same time. revolution is beautiful that way.



dear lovey,
i am not a man yet, as is quite obvious. i am however a boy who is very in love with you, a boy who will eventually find the strength needed to become the man that you can walk alongside. i feel as if i am always walking behind you, trying to catch up with your every nuance and mood. you are my goddess and because of this i follow you.. i worry so much about not doing the right thing that i don't trust myself to just be. i know that with time i will find the strength to love myself even for the flaws that i have, becuse when i do love myself totally i will be even better at loving you the way you deserve to be loved. you have told me that you will never leave me, and for this i am forever in your debt (even if my idiocy prevents you from keeping this promise). i just want to do what is right for us and for our baby, lovey, i just want to make things easier for us. i know that when we get to sarasota we can spend time creating like we've always wanted, not having to worry as much about where our next meal will come from (especially now that you can't steal and don't want me to tarnish my record [i would still do it if it was needed, though... i care more about providing for my unborn child than spending the night in jail]). please understand that this is all new to me and that it is sometimes very overwhelming (you know this, but do you really grok it?) I don't know if you've ever been around someone with less interpersonal skills and street smarts. i really am a waste of human space when it comes to being an adult.. i just don't know many things about taking care of myself. i could blame my sheltered life, but honestly the blame rests purely on my lack of motivation. why be motivated to change when you could just sit around and mentally masturbate (not to mention physically masturbate) while on drugs? you remenber how it felt those 6 listless months, (you did manage to read a good amount of books at that time, so i wouldn't call it a complete loss) thinking up amazing ideas but only keeping them to yourself, not motivated enough to share them with the world. i want to share now, love. i want to go to India with you and know what real poverty looks like, i want to be humbled. i hate my white bread background and my narrow mind and lack of knowledge. i hate myself so much for sitting in front of a fucking television when i could just as easily been sitting in front of a book, expanding my mind. i've missed out on so much just because of my fucking american-bred laziness.

i'm writing this to tell you that i will not let this cycle continue. i will not allow myself to keep missing out on all of the amazing possibilities this world has to offer. i cannot allow you to just grin and deal with an asshole boyfriend. i never thought i was capable of anything before, but now i know how much i am capable of. i want to explore everything i can do with you. i want to be your muse, your sex toy, your confidant, your caring partner in raising our child, your paint-splatteredloverboy with a french cigarette perminately affixed between his teeth. i want to be everything you know i can be and more
and i can do it
i will do it
becuase i love you
because if i don't, then i will have done nothing and doing nothing with your life is a waste of a life.
because if i keep making promises and not making them come true, than you have every right to leave my sorry worthless ass.
you have my higher mind's blessing to leave me if i cannot control my lower mind.
you have every right to leave me a sobbing mess of twisted emotional shit slopped on the floor if you feel that i will never attain the kind of mindset that you deserve to have in a lover.

(i will print this out and sign it, in blood if you wish--just say the word)

I LOVE YOU


.......................

i will carry your name forever. in dreams i have seen you, child, so bright and beautiful--your hair cascading down before two eyes, blue bubbles in a sea of mercury.
i still blame myself, even though it makes you giggle.

i love you.


.

.
.


dad,
i've put a lot of thought into what i'm about to say, trust you me, i am just as cynical and worrisome about my own future and the stability thereof that you are. after i overheard her fucking someone else (i can't bring myself to say "making love", and echo agrees that it was not that at all) it did hurt me very, very badly. i was shaken, and unsure of my future. i thought at the time that if i returned to the safety of family, i could possibly "put my life back together" as it where. but i realize now that going back home is just another step backward in my journey. i've spent some time outside of echo's every influence--sexual, verbal, emotional--and i have come to the decision to stay out of my own accord. it didn't happen overnight, i assure you. it took a lot of tears and rage and bitterness that eventually cleared into cool, rational logic. dad, whether you believe it or not, echo is a creative genius. she has the ability to forge a new artistic movement in america. i have also realized, finally, that i am just as talented as she is. she knows this too, and it devistated her to know that i have the ability to leave her at any time. i told her that if she broke my trust again, i would--and she tearfully admitted every wrongdoing that she had ever done toward me, intentionally or not.
i want you to know dad, that i have finally realized just how much echo's past sexual abuse effected her views on emotion and sexuality in general. over these past few days, we have explored it more than ever before, delving into exactly why she would let herself become a sexual toy just to gain other's affections. i let her know that this is wrong and only hurts her in the long run. a good friend of ours, Shade, interpeted my feelings to her also, telling her about how her rampant hedonism was only a reflection of her terribly low self-esteem. she agreed that this was true and promised me that she would change this as long as i stayed to help her.
dad, we both have problems. i want for affection just as she does, but i push others away when they get too close because i fear i am a monster. she feels she is so low that she would do anything to please another, even break my trust.
you may not agree with my decision to stay, you may even think that she will do this to me again, and sometimes i worry that is the truth also (the apple didn't fall too far from the tree, you know)
but dad, i hope you understand that i am too damn smart to be played for a fool. i told her that if she breaks my trust again, for any reason, i am gone--and i am strong enough to go wherever i need to.
life isn't easy, but it's all we have. i can either spend the rest of my life looking for some perfect lover that does not exist, or i can stay with the only other human being that is my partner for life, both creatively and spiritually.
i love this woman, dad. and that means that i love her faults just as she loves mine.

we have the brains and beliefs to change our world, whether or not it will effect yours is up to life to decide.

dad, i love you, and i will always listen to your opinions with an open ear, just don't tell me what love is, it's an argument that can only be futile in the end--because love is belief, love is a religion of the heart and mind.

-david.

p.s. give a noogie for me--and tell him that he will be just as talented if not more than i am--and get him outside more! that damn playstation is burning his braincells to bits!


........................... . .. . . . .. . . . . .


"total hedonism--beyond all control. it was... it had to be. someone's screaming that he is god and we all laugh at him until he grabs the first child. the tent was empty and she had sat there all peace and beautiful glass eyes that never judged a face before that day. he had her and i--all i was and am decided to join his ad-hoc revival."


"something tells me.. yeah i know, i know that fucking pattern. you know the one--fucking waste of a perfectly good mind. i wonder where it comes from? no doubt that is not a new sentiment."

"he was very close to me, he snapped. too much internal pressure--his deamons flew out screaming, i could hear them...mixed with her screams, i..."

"fucking P I G pig. end of story. everyone's neurotic--but he was evil."

"i often find myself wondering...it's not as if he wasn't doing what was on all of our minds. she was..fucking nubian man--the victum of an unnaturally radiant kundalini. no--i don't think what he did was wrong...what is wrong? ...i think he was the unfortunate star of the most grotesque movie our collective id could have ever conjured."


"so i hear he shot himself. to be honest, that news doesn't stir me."


"is this some kind of existential joke? oh, that's Rich!"








CHAPTER 3


the universe is full of holes
you can fall into one or you can explore them
you can hear the perfect note
you can touch the smoothest surface
you can destroy all of them
i am full of holes.



some day i will speak with all of my everything--it could be a moment yet, time seems to crawl around the back of my head. someone kill me, i am too weak. i wish i loved another, but i might as well love myself. someone is on fire, i love your violent sexploitation. when does the hurting start? orgasm is the definition of tulip. elementary sience selections speak volumes of unfettered illusion. someone please suck the slip shine. i watched the swine swallow the valour valor. i will wish the whimsy swelter selection. somesuch specticle, swashbuckling tenants! hah! and they swim together in brine!
goodness, i've undone my friendly courtsey, couteous as it may seem, it wasn't the right amount of absent-minded spectacle.
erection is the definition of crandall.
i splotch.


september sepulcre, strewn about from which the watcher seems to continue. communal crimes creep like the cloven feet of pan's pretense. i spent three years speaking under the weather water, spelunking my soul for tips and tulips. fucking drips due on top of rotten cups of fluff from violent poison.
she ties her body tight too far it seems too much to bear. i wish i saw her world and mine could find another pair of eyes to try on in this charming little lie. universe, multiverse, all just an irrational construction of counsciousness hell-bent on creating cute chaos. nothing is sacred, you only hold yourself to be truly evident of what you feel individually. i speak for all but i am one, there is no way this could be true, i am not god, for god is just a happy melody.
so strike up a fucking tune already!


when i play the skin until my hands ache and my mind is so far above and away from this universe, tuned into another channel of counsciousness where a roaring fire and a peaceful drum circle in an unpolluted forest are as commonplace as the smog-soaked skies and irrational allergic reactions of our world, i feel as if i finally fly.
i don't even know where my hands are, flowing with the river of rythum that winds through the cosmic consciousness. my lungs expand and contract, sound flows from my vocal chords--it is not mine, it will never be mine, i know that creativity is a collective, an act of celebration for the beauty of shiva and shakti's shared orgasm of creation/distruction that is the gift of life itself.

there first was one

we are two

we are one

god is one



there first was one

we are two

in the end is one

god is one


..... . . . ...

there was sound, a whooshing and this very natural sound a hertbeat that i knew very well but i didn't know anymore. eveyrthing was different but not in a bad way, just in a way so alien t ome tnat i was taken aback by the sherer and utter nonsensicl flow of events. time seemed to fold and collapse in on itself, i remember this desperate longing for you and wanting to find you.. we were together in the room but i kept trying to "look" at you and you were never "there" but you always were. i laid down on a bed uch like the one we have now and i started to move my hand and i saw my hand (now that i come to think of it, it looked more like your hand) appear sticking out of the wall beside me. my hand first went through it as if it were only a hallucination but then when i truly reached out to it and took it into mine, it was there, warm and inviting. i closed my eyes and took comfort in the hand, yelling something to you i hoped you'd hear about my ego's conflict with the "acid's" very amazing ability to alter time so much that i honestly didn't know if i was just in the room talking to myself and you were in another room beside it. you kept answering me though, so i figured that we must be communicating telepathically anyway. when i finally got up and tried to "look" around, every direction i turned gave me the completely "wrong" room view my mind was supposed to be seeing. i half closed my eyes and stumbled around to find the door, falling down and flipping backwards on my neck with no pain, only a remark to you that "that was interesting!" (or something to the sort, sorry, "dream" memory fades quickly) i eventually making it to the door where a painting or a puzzle laid on the floor before it. when i reached out to open the door, i did so and then it was again exactly the way i started. i opened again and again it seemed to open but never did open to my eyes. i was confused and wanted to see you very badly, so i closed my eyes, opened the door and stepped through it, walking across the short hallway and into a room that contained a nicer bed and much more color.. this amazing wallpaper with diamond shaped tibetan style (sort of) swirly things with other things for accent.. the color was a rich purple, but the "acid" was making it change shade quickly while the pattern on top warbled and moved a bit.. i remarked something to the effect of "why don't we ever use this room? it has a much more comfortable bed and is much more colorful" --a metaphor to our astral projection! why don't we use the room where both of our mindscapes come together? you made an "eh" type reaction but i think it symbolized that now that we had, let's not look back and only look forward into the futures we can spend in this room now that i knew the secret of stepping out of my rigid third circuit perception of time and spatial surroundings and gave in to feeling coming from all sides. that is the essence, i believe, of any good "acid trip" and every astral projection session. thank you lovey for always reaching out to me..

now that i am "awake" i long to close my eyes again and hope we can meet in my "dreams" once more. if we do not, it's ok.. my little concensus reality brain can only take so much at a time. oh i am so excited about this! i knew it was you.. this was no "dream" i would ever have.. it was so.. so you. and the words you said to me.. they were you communicating with me, i know it. i love you

and now i am awake and you have shown me that you've kept something that makes my ego feel bad about his dirty habits. I know that it is ultimately good if you do something artistic and metaphorical with that jack off garbage. i can no longer hate myself for the mistakes i've made, i can only give them to you just like i give you everything else, with open arms. once i can do that and love myself for it, then i believe that these mistakes will no longer continue to manifest themselves into my deeper conciousness. patterns can change.. hell, i never thought i would experience the mind bending beauty of astral projection with you, but now i have!
i never thought any of this would happen. i am so grateful to you for everything you have shown me and i really think some of it is starting to sink into my thick skull!

oh lovey, be my partner in the exploration of all of the beauty and pain that is human interaction.

you ask only one thing of me, you ask me to let you love me and i say yes!

yes!
yes!
yes!
yes!

I LOVE YOU!



+

CHAPTER 4..

i only want to take acid so i can look into your eyes. she said and i told her i was dead alreadty, she sdidn';t bealieve me but it doesn't matter. she is the only voice i need in my head, the other ones are useless to me nbow. i'm not good enough blach blah i need cephallic chese cartrigg3e liner notes. she was the only thing and continues to be the only tghing that impresses me in this fucked world. i need her lips on me anso mu8ch that i think if she where to die in the sence of leaving and never coming bacmk i would die on the astral plane. sometimes i wish i could just send all of my energy to her and make her take it because she needs it more thatn me. he bbody is eak but her mind is so much stronger, it carries her along and i wasnt to give her everything that i can. i want to giver her everything and anything she could ever want or need. she is the only thing that makes me my life worth living and i know this now. i hate my third circuit because it won't die and i want to kill it so bad with a long knife in the back, cold and deadly and nothing can stop me after that. i want ho be with her now and hold her in my arms weven when she is continenents away. she d3eserves everything from me an d my third circuit keeps denying her that. my ego doesn't want to make the toaster fly from the back seat of the caddilac, she only awants me to embrace the madness and fliow along it's dotted lines into a kind of spiral sense,. my mind is not ready for this, my thrid circuit reeplies, and i'm stuck on mars with no antellope and not antecdote. i need to learn how to spe,ll. someday my writing witll be very good she says, someday i'll find my voice. i already found my voice, i reply inside, i alwlready found her and sxhe's looking at me anbd asking me to find mmyself. i don't want myfself anymore, i want to be a part of her that operates outside of her just so i can help her fetch her things. she is the mind here, she is the ultimate and i am the nothingboy with no realk ideas of his own. i don't want my ideas, i want our ideas, i want a singular conciousness of two sperate people that have joined as one. i want to become another facet of her personality. i want to be her so much that my third circuitinterpets this need as some kind of jealousy, because he bvelieves that it's impossible to become one with someone elese. my ego is scared of dying so it's ytrying to make me the biggest asshole in the world so that i will scare off the only person that i've ever loved. i will kill you, ego,. i know you aren't as strong as i thought you wehjere, you are just some lousy piece of shit scaredy car asshole that's keeping me away from the onloy love i have and will ever love fully and tryuly. she is my everyything, she is the beauty that i have strrived for for my entire life. yo;u cann't take her aways from me you aren't allowed you jerk. leave me alone. leave me alone and let me be the personm i want to be, the person i am supposed to become. i dont' need you anymore, you asshole, you fucking fuckface bastgard with stupid ideas and ideals that keeps trying to convince me that your lousy excuse for a moralset is anythig that could qualifiry as better than the amaideas of my love. you are nohting and i am going to make you into nothing. you are not going to stop me from having the best time of my life. i just want you to die. die die die die die die die you piece of shit

i want to be inside of your past away from your view like a series of photographs taken from an invisible eye that watches you day by day (your worst childhood fear realized) but i can't help it, the curiosity kills me when i look deep into the pictures and find tiny written scraps from your past on the computer as you sleep..
i wonder exactly what your relationship with was and how it changed?
i wonder if you have changed your entire persona to fit every relationship you have ever been in?
i wonder if you use relationships to signify changes you want (or are already occurring whether you like it or not) in your life?

none of these being different from my current idea of them would necessarily be bad things, mind you. i just often wonder how your past "really" occurred in an objective sense. everything takes on either a rosy or bleak tint in one's recollections (dependent mostly on the person's individual countenance or deep psychological need)
so I could honestly never get a "true" recollection of your past just as you could never get an emotionally unbiased version of mine. thus, the eyeball... i would love to be the invisible eye you always knew was there throughout your childhood.

i can tell you have always felt that strange spotlight sensation.. as if you were always being watched, and judged for everything you ever did. some may say this is just another symptom of a schitzopal mindset but i honestly believe it is the pathway to enlightenment. i believe that if there were some way to psychologically examine every great mystic, saint, sorcerer, etc. you would find evidence of the symptoms that are now labeled as "schizopal disorder"
imagine how many people you meet every day that you think are just crazy but could actually be talking to god!

but i don't need to tell you this, you would approach someone like that with the open mind and kindness that made me fall in love with you.

but i digress!

your childhood and subsequent ascent into womanhood... i can tell that because of this indescribable and unavoidable constant feeling of being watched by the higher mind, you have achieved great things all because you held on to the well-formed belief system you have been carrying with you, pretty-much unchanged, since you could think for yourself. of course, that age is highly debatable, so I'm going to be safe here and say you've had the same beliefs your entire life, which could be (and is by many) considered a divine touch from birth.

you are a saint love
i know this because i have never met nor heard of anyone that has held onto their beliefs so strongly since an early age and fought to defend them any time they were threatened. not to mention your fervent belief in the strict laws of karma and a god realization that came to you at an age when most children are realizing they can shit in a toilet by themselves and feeling proud of it.

of course you are a genius also, which, if I am not mistaken, all saints in any religious form usually are.

and yes you like to fuck and are good at it, but hey.. i don't need to tell you that the whole idea of ascetic saints is just a byproduct of the patriarchal mutation of religion and its faux sense of "civility" enforced with rampant sexual taboos.

but yes.. i am rambling... i love you! type to me about your life.. actually just write more..

please!
write
more

i was reading your writing and now i feel responsible for your creative slump (as well i should be) but now i know i must encourage you to create and be beautiful and different.. not let my ego's fear of your being a much better person than me allow me to put you into an emotional and creative slump.

so please write..

please.

i'm sorry love

i love you



august 02

why is everything i do too little too late with you? why aren't you happy with me anymore?

why don't you believe that i can be happy with you?

i'm sorry that i've said things and done rhings that could be taken as such.. i really really just want to be happy with you love. you don't even want to have sex with me anymore.. you just lead me on and then go to sleep.
do you love me? this seems like a stupid question to ask but sometimes i really don't know anymore

why do you keep me around if i cause you so much pain?

i just want us to be together and happy. you keep saying you want to forget the past but you keep dredging it up at any chance you can get. why do you do this?

why don't you just come over here and kiss me and make everything ok again?

that's all i want from you but you just mumble some question and walk away
i just want you to be close to me
please come to me this time.. please just come over to me and kiss me first. i can't remember the last time you just snuggled up against me of your own accord.

do i pester you for affection too much?

i just want to love you
please


i love you deary.. i do not do well with idle time. i usually waste it smoking pot and doing stupid things. i don't know why this is.. well, i do but i don't think i can bring myself to believe it. i need you around because if you were not around i would be a loser. that word has been thrown around a lot in my presence but i could usually find a way to explain away my laziness and constant pot smoking.

i don't have a way to explain it now
i need a job so that i can feel like i am contributing monitarily to this relationship

plus, i just need to be doing something while you are away, because when you aren't around and i'm alone i just become very idle and bored and i start to think about how much of a loser i am too much. i eat too much when i'm around food and i can't do that because we have to share it... i eat and then i feel bad for eating and not having a job to buy more food so i eat again.
so a job would be the best thing for me so that i can have any idle time be spent in your presence, a sure way to keep me on track with the goals i have and not let me fall back into the cycle of lazy addictive behaviour i have been practicing since i was about 16 or so.
it saddens me to think that my first reaction to being alone is to revert to a 16 year old state, but i know that by spending all of my free time around you i can squelch that tendency i have to revert into a less mature mindstate and keep on pursuing my goals of mind expansion.

i love you bippy and i need you very much because if it weren't for you i would become a loser that lives paycheck to paycheck.

i realized this today.. it was one of those "stoner ephiphanies" that actually live up to their illustrious title

(pardon any mispellings)

i love you!

.. haha back to my stupid videogame.. please get home soon and free me from this endless tedium




CHAPTER 5


"bulldozer bob yaegerhoofer. This man could packa-pounaa beers in remarkable time. I never seen anything like this guy. This man killed trees at a rate only surpassed by the big guy upstairs. I ain't kiddin'... amen to that one."

"10,000 trees a second split wide open-- scream motherfuckers! oh it's beautiful the sound of pure progress!"--an unknown man was recorded, transcribed, voice-printed to have remarked in a heroin frenzy while lying in a dumpster outside of the local chic club Cum. A rather bored citizen of Metro 1 bothered to run an ident search on the man who we now know as Sven Chevsky alias "Bulldozer" Bob Yaegerhoofer.
it turns out his lifelong alias/obsession was loosely based on the (net's most popular hyper intellectual joke about a logger gone insane on an overdose of LSD25 who eventually becomes a Hindu God--defeating Shiva in the "Ultimate Motherfucking Treedown" and bringing fire to the Aztec people.
the Chipped say the humor lies in the delicate interplay of overlapping dramas that Yeagarmani weaves through countless lifetimes and courtships (the last non-chipped estimate was 1 million). chipped Hyperstar Chez Peter laughed for 3.5 seconds on October 21st at 2.00.03.00033 USD while in a conversation that had strayed into one of the general trains of thought about Yeagarmani that are so popular on (net, beaming: "oh that--yes."



[to be cnt'd . . . ..]