It Was Just Another Day.

And I sat down for a moment to read. Upon sitting, I felt it. It was strange and hard to explain, but I shall try, if only to preserve the memory for myself. For you see, strange things happen at seemingly inconsequential moments for apparently no reason at all, but something powerful is happening. It is a constant process of transformation of mind, body, and soul. It only took a moment of rest for the effects to take place. A feeling of happiness, pure and true, to activate the dormant genes. My DNA is shifting. I understand that. It's only part of the process. I shall not die as a mortal man, but rise above and enter the higher plane. These things have been confirmed by others.
    It's ridiculous, I must admit, but I am a ridiculous man. I admit to that. I can see what I am doing is peculiar. I have no fear of this obscurity. I do not damn my individuality but, on the contrary, embrace it as a long lost lover. Never shall I let myself fall from this path. You may think I'm insane, and you may be right, but I see no difference between lunacy and genius. They are cut from the same cloth.
    I'm losing track though, there is a point to this. I felt what few others have felt. The tingle. It's very similar to temporary loss of circulation. The legs go numb for a moment. You feel as though they have become smokelike. No longer solid and firm. They float below, writhing twisting in the wind. Electricity fills them abundantly. They feel to be pulled off of you, dragged down to our mother. Yet she is not taking but giving. It is an exchange of sorts. You give yourself to her, she takes you in and makes you better, then returns you to yourself. Don't laugh at my beliefs lest I show you the absurdity of your own.
   Faith is a strange thing. There is no proof. So how can you know? You just do. That is what faith is all about. And I know what I believe to be true. Who are you to say different? What gives you the right to persecute me for my beliefs? If you don't believe me, then don't. What do I care? I only wish to express it like anyone else.
   So here I am, sitting down, book in hand, as this miraculous transformation happens once again. I give her my light, my love, and she accepts it entirely. She takes it and loves me for it. It grows strong with her. It becomes a part of her own light. It glows brilliantly. She takes my offering and gives me back something more. She gives me back the light we have created. A part of myself in her, and a part of her with me. It is only a step to a goal, but an important one. Although most of the work must be done alone in solitude. Only then can one concentrate on what is important. Only then is the truth revealed. This is why most people fear it. They are terrified of change, of the unknown. When the truth weighs down on them they run and hide in fear. They hide amongst others. They hide together.
     For the enlightenment to happen, there needs to be space for it in the mind. Space to accept our creator inside our minds so she can do her work to better us. Out of fear of this, we fill our minds with the most trivial bullshit. We literally stuff our minds with useless fucking garbage to keep her out. If you haven't noticed this, you may be lost. There is no hope for thee. But if you see, if you can honestly see what is happening may be there is a chance for your salvation. We have not finished evolving. Do not be content with your inefficiency. You are an unfinished work of art. Please, don't be a dueche. Let yourself become the masterpiece you are meant to be.
    And so I felt it, my own personal transformation. It's happened before and it will happen again. It's an ongoing thing. I am not nearly complete. I will not cheat. I shall rise and become a saint for modern times. It is my destiny. You can not convince me otherwise so do not try. If you don't agree just leave me be. I am not hurting anyone. And if I am wrong, let me at least enjoy it. It's one of the few things that brings me any happiness anymore. I have purpose. I am confident in this. Why would you want to rob me of that?
    Afterward I stoop up. I felt no numbness or pain. No, my legs did not fall asleep. I stood just fine, had all feeling, if not more, and walked away. I walked straight here to this computer and began to type this. Not a moment was spared. It is all fresh in my head. It has literally just happened. And it filled my entire being with a need to share it. I'm so proud of my progress. I must admit however, I am impatient. I know what's happening, I know what has happened, I know what will happen. There are no surprises left. Yes, I am admitting to seeing the future. And why not? Many prophets have seen the same. Alone in a secluded cave they think and believe. The future comes to them just as it comes to me now. It's not impossible. It's happened.
    Knowing the future only makes it more difficult to accept the present. It drags on in seemingly endless seconds of boredom. I do not care for the world as it is. I know what it will be. I see the potential in everyone and everything. I love it for what it will be. I love you for what you will one day be. Yes, I love you deeply, all of you. And I hate you so much. You resist the changes that will inevitably take place. You fight it with all your might. Please stop this frivolity. It will come to pass. Let it. I am. Join me and we will bring forth an era of happiness the likes of which have never been seen. We live in a perfect world, where everyone's like me. Does it scare you?

Intimacy Issues

I have a TON of intimacy issues.
The only ones I'm missing are issue #17 Fear of Abandonment, which contained the first appearance of Emptiness, issue #26 TRUST, and issue #52 Overthinking, which had a guest appearance by Spiderman.

Touch Me

Touch me and I'll scream...
and moan...
and gyrate...
and shoot a hot wet load down my pant-leg...
and cry...
and fall over...
and shit upwards of 5ft...
and convulse violently...

And beg for more.

Stare Into The Void and Chill?

The other night I was at the cemetery in my usual spot, draped placidly over a tombstone feeling empty, thinking about the nothingness of existence, when a ghost appeared before me. She took me back to her place where we talked about the ineluctable qualities of death, listened to obscure spookwave bands, and had silent emotionless sex. Afterward, I went home, existed for a few hours, and went to sleep.

Two-Headed Boy

The way I see it, there are two categories of lovers. I'm not just talking about interlocking genitals either. I'm referring to love of all things, beauty, art, music, whatever. These two categories are like the two ways one can fish. Catch and release, or gut and take home.

I've always considered myself to be of the former type. For most of my life, I was fine with the experience itself. I had no need to capture it. I loved, and I let my love be.

The other type feel a compulsion to own all they love. They want to capture it and take it home with them. They want it documented, contained, and readily available. These are the people at concerts with phones held high. The ones taking pictures of sunsets, downloading all their favorite albums, texting their lover 300 times a day.

I see nothing inherently wrong with either practice, nor am I condemning any of them. I am simply noting an observation. I've simply never felt the need to hold onto the things I've loved. I am content with the experience itself. I take what is given me and let it come and go as it pleases. I saw this as a fact of life. When we die, we leave everything behind, so what is the point of fruitlessly trying to hold onto anything?

When beauty comes my way, I let it. And when it goes, I also move on.

But there are those who feel the converse. They desire control. They are not content to let some outside force govern when and where something lovely happens to them. They want to instantly call up happiness from the massive vault of significant moments they lord over.

There have been many times a song is played that I adored and the moment and memory were enough for me. The idea to record the song's information to find and keep for myself later never occured to me. Maybe I'll hear it again, maybe I won't. The other type will flip shit if they hear a song they love and don't note down the artist, album, year it came out, backstory of the band, etc.

I think I somewhat understand them. In fact, most people are them. I'm one of the few exceptions. For as long as I've lived, they have tried to convert me to their ways. They think I'm insane for not trying to keep what I love. They ask what I will do if I never hear it again. I say, then I'll never hear it again, I'll just do something else. This blows their mind.

I had hoped with age, these people would change, but they won't. I can see it now. Many older people still feel this way.



I get a lot of shit for being myself. Apparently my personality is some strange patchwork quilt of minorities and exceptions. That's okay, I guess. I've been trying for years to see from their perspective, and I think I have a general idea.

Honestly, I think the main cause is insecurity and fear. If what you love isn't firmly within your grasp, you might lose it forever. Documenting all you do is proof you have lived. Constant entertainment forms a sort of barrier between oneself and death.

Like safety, this is but an illusion. Love is like sand and the harder you try to hold onto it, the more it slips through your fingers. All the instagrams in the world can't stop the inevitable flow of time from washing away all memory of you. And not acknowledging death doesn't make death any less ineluctable.

I'll adopt a few of your ways in order to share a bit of my world with you, but for that reason alone.

When In Rome

The saying doesn't end there. It's only the first part of it. The rest is implied. This is how common saying usually go. Common sense/knowledge takes over from there.

But I've been noticing a little problem lately. There are people so daft, they don't realize that these bits of statements like "the grass is greener" or "when you can't beat em" are only parts of larger sayings. (The rest being so abundantly obvious there is no need to actually speak it.)

The problem is mainly a philosophical/spiritual one. Many sects and orders have overtly bleak life views when not understood correctly. Buddhism is a great example of this. "Everything suffers" can be perceived as an immensely negative statement at face value. But... it's not. It is only the beginning. A necessary step on the road to peace.

"God is dead" is a freeing statement. Nietzsche's quotes are some of the most misused today. My heart truly goes out to him. First the Nazis, then the hip intellectuals, now the misguided neo-nihilists. He's so often used for malign purposes that it makes me want to cry. The death of God isn't some hopeless misery, it's a cage removed. No longer are we bound to the chains of organized religion. We are finally free to seek meaning for ourselves, taking whatever we'd like from whatever we want. A bit of Taoism here, a dash of Christianity there, some Manichean ideas tossed in for flavor, and maybe a couple teachings from Hassan i Sabbah. We can find purpose for ourselves with no more arbitrary limits.

But I digress. I'm not here to speak about these concepts individually. I just want to bring to light how, with a bit of thought and effort, the depressing garbage spouted by the disillusioned misanthropic youth are actually early steps to inner peace.

Now I know, I know, you want everything spoon-fed to you so the thought might never occurred to try, but you really should. For your own sake. Only you can save yourself.

Today, on social media, I posted this: You can't do or say anything these days without someone hating you for it.

At face value, it seems a little depressing, doesn't it? It's not. Not at all. You simply need to follow the organic flow of this thought.

I grew up ignored and hated. Unlike some spineless little wimp, I did not try extra hard to garner attention and praise. I saw the world around me and accepted it as it is. Why waste time seeking impossible praise? Instead, do what you enjoy, what's fulfilling to you. As for hate, well if I'm going to be hated no matter what I do, then fuck it, I'll do whatever I want. The approval of others no longer applies to me.

For instance, if I have to fart, I might worry about being laughed at or insulted, so I would opt to sit in discomfort, only to be made fun of for sitting weirdly. So fuck it, let my ass sing! Let them laugh. I feel great. You don't like it, I'll aim that fucker right at you.

You really don't have to do anything you don't want to. Their control is but an illusion. Only by understanding and making peace with hard facts of life will you be able to overcome them.

There's no such thing as fairy tale love, you say? Well fuck it, then I'll make my imperfect love work. I'm a meaningless speck of dust, you say? Well phew, that's a load of my back. Now I know I can fuck up as much as I want and it doesn't matter. No one is really happy, you say? Oh that's great! Now I don't have to feel bad about feeling bad. Everyone is crazy, you say? Wonderful! I don't feel so ashamed of my insecurities. It's something we all have.

The list goes on. I like to call it The Positivity of Pessimism.

So next time you hear or read some seemingly depressing shit, take a moment to think about it. The person saying/posting it is probably just being a miserable bastard by leaving out the good part.

I Touched Her Thigh... And Death Smiled

In the dim half-light of a local bar, hermetic and shrouded within the din of hazy thoughts and twisted minds, I sit, waiting for tomorrow.
Across the writhing, swaying expanse I notice an ethereal creature swathed in black leather surreptitiously admiring my... pulchritude.

Her eyes look into mine with open, daring lust. Boldness and challenge electrify my brain.

"Destroy me, I'm yours."

Casually, I stride past the mindless meatbags across grimy floorboards. The air is thick. Heavy. I'm swimming on a current. Drawn inexorably to the wild animal bathed in blue neon light prowling the deltas of her vicissitudinous presence.

A boundless expectation floods the interstice of our forms. Words yearning for utterance pummel the ramparts of my lips. Burned out pathways brilliant with luminescence.

Sublime Lupa. Formless nephilim. Unbearably weightless. Cascading into me as gently as moonlight falling down. Exquisite resplendence in my arms. Soft and warm, her lulling aroma of undiscovered places and wild forests transcend through my mind driving me mad with desire.

Her calm, even breath caresses my neck. Fingers probing the small of my back. Her breathless whisper musically ringing in my ears electric and benevolent. Slightly swaying in magnetic embrace the world outside vanishes in a puff of smoke.

I pull back ever so slightly. Turn her face to mine. Our lips meet. Commingling spirits trespassing upon each other's dreams. A curtain of sparks floods my vision in shimmering brilliance. Simultaneous frailty and strength. I want to hold on to this instant forever.


Our lips part, the stars gradually extinguishing. Time seems to extend inexorably before us. We stand immobile, arms enveloping each other. Clinging to a guttering flame of hope.

A flame that dies.

She writes her phone number on a scrap of paper ripped from a nearby flier. I accept it gratefully. I hold her hands. I kiss her once again. I turn and walk away, not sparing a look back at the angel with a halo of blue. Fading back into night, into silence, into nothing.