Lucid dream journal

lucid dream journal

by: Alex Monshaw, Ålêxäñdér Pink, Howard Russel III, Aztek NeverDie, Panda, Ag, Waking Osiris, et. al.

the exploration presented in this book reflects a resolution of my personal problems with self-image, ancestral guilt, gender and race. any relation to human problems as a whole is purely coincidental as well as similarities to charactes living, dead and fictional. we accept no responsibility for these similarities and highly encourage any and all relevant material to be copied with or without citation for any use. non-copyright 2014

in the beginning 'ummmmm...ahhhhh...hmmmmm' as i looked into her eyes i knew that she was pregnant. the typically wild whites on the dark background of tan, sun kissed skin had a peculiar tenderness i had never seen before. something like the moment when a conscientious person telling an off-color joke realizes they've inadvertently hurt someone's feelings. i had never been a father before but this was recognition on a purely instinctual level. i felt my stomach drop a thousand miles, like falling out of a tree, but instead of the terror i expected it gave me a strange sense of security. it was impossible to tell from her demeanor if she knew what had happened, besides the eyes her face was completely unreadable. something like a combination of satisfaction and confusion played across her brow coupled with a smirking frown on her lip. i didn't know whether to be complemented or insulted so i chose both. i could feel myself getting sucked into the widening black chasms of her pupils so i quickly broke my gaze and lifted my body off the floor. i could hear her squirming quietly behind me, maybe in pleasure but more likely in response to my abrupt departure, but i didn't look back as i walked outside. there is nothing in the world that compares to the heavy and pregnant silence that the gray skies and snow provide, the constant rolling of the ocean or a tropical island could never give me such peace. but today it has lost its charm, the gnawing at the back of my mind will not stop long enough for me to catch my breath. i feel like i could run to the ends of the earth and still find no relief. it's time like this i wish i could ask my father what he did to prepare himself for an undertaking like this, unfortunately that's impossible. maybe it's better that way, i'm sure he would want me to carve my own way. lets look at this practically, i said to myself under my breath. this child will keep me attached to this woman for several years. the question that spins through my mind on repeat is: how can i prepare for something that i have no experience in? my older friends have only consistently told me one thing about having a child, that i will have no idea what it feels like until i have one of my own, which only puts fear in my heart. i assume this must be a trick passed down through the generations, either to inspire procreation by tickling curiosity or to drive cognitive dissonance, expanding thought limited

and youthful thought patterns. maybe it's both...or, and i shudder to even consider the possibility, maybe even people with grown children still have no idea how they feel about them or how to relate to them. the latter seems insane to me as it seems more than unlikely that i am the first man in history to desire to engage this process thoughtfully, but i don't like to rule anything out. a wander in the woods has done miracles for me in the past. she has told me stories of the forest spirits many times, and while i find the sincerity of her people's belief in the supernatural a bit unnerving, i look at them as facets of human nature and often get perspective on the instinctual and ancestral loves or fears, shared across cultures and time itself. between these metaphors and the complexity of the multitudes of stark, naked branches staring back at me through broken sunlight and frost bitten air, my mind quickly opens and reminds me that i am part of a rich history of [more or less] successful reproduction of life. this seed of existential comfort is small, but i can feel the power of its potential and am quite certain that with encouragement it will grow into something mighty and unshakeable. just then i notice a small coyote down the path a ways. what was it she always says about the coyote? a trickster...it brings wisdom through jokes and tricks? women will believe anything. out of curiosity i approach the creature, who, sitting on his hind legs does not break eye contact with me once. odd. as i get almost close enough to reach out and touch him, something stops me dead in my tracks. without words the coyote tells me he knows the answer to my questions. he says i can learn one of two ways; if i eat the mushroom that sits by his feet, i will be able to see my answer in broad daylight, otherwise i may wait patiently under the tree for the answer to come in my dreams. trickster. the word keeps rolling around in my mind. how can an animal have the capacity to trick someone as keen as myself? impossible. just to be safe, to stay one step ahead, i ate the mushroom and immediately went to sleep under the tree.

unexpect the expected

that memory painted with the nimble palette of delusion and romance, thousands of footsteps and hundreds of miles insignificant to the thundering march of time as each step away brings my mind closer as if i were never really running away burnt orange stains my mind like cactus pricks on tender flesh then the blinding light turns spiderweb cracks to chasms so deep the devil herself could never escape. this light fills my existence and blurs the harsh lines drawn once in forgotten sand a binding freedom makes shackles of shirt sleeves and wings of steel toed boots. levity of thought breeds the idea of a state of being instead of becoming all at once is as terrifying as it is unthinkable wasted youth, not youth wasted carved this man of soft stone, carves when the mason's hand finally rests, so must I.

dear Alex, eyes lock. lips brush. fingers touch. souls meet. this card sums up exactly how i feel. i hope you know how much better my life is for knowing you, for loving you, even if it's only in the limited way that i can manage right now. you make the world a better place. i can't imagine myself with anyone but you. you aren't getting rid of me anytime soon <3. i love you, the girl with every look, every kiss, every embrace, i hope you feel how much i want you and need you and love you.

Yang i walk mountain tops where earth touches sky my fingers make ripples in perfect darkness winking stars wrap me in comforting insignificance and beauty of my single moon, my mystery lies pristine in the dust of eternity and faint memories of trivial conquest i am born in smokeless fire a self made man with chameleon skin eyes for beauty, ears for music, a mouth that may speak only love and a magnificent heart of tempered steel and sincerity that feels no pain and knows no evil. i transcend pain of the flesh, i fall victim to no Man, clever or powerful my plastic smile calms the village while my righteous tongue whips the non-believers i wear my heart proudly on my sleeve praying silently against more proof of my immortality born of mercurial passion, forged in the deepest bowels of hell can only be destroyed by its like and a broken heart would be a small price...to Know. my search through countless years and thousands of smiles is finally complete, i am not alone

Table of Contents 1. Beginning 2. Middle - stale breadcrumbs - sexy monkey - fortune cookies - weasel habits 3. End

1. Beginning (9 days in the hole) Day 1: Subject arrived at the psych ward under duress; he is acting irrationally, demanding to speak with family or a lawyer. He seems to have forgotten that he asked to be hospitalized for his own safety. We are going to give him 5mg IM lactate Haldol and 4mg IV Ativan to prevent risk of seizure. He is being put in the padded cell for his safety (and ours, signs of potential violence already established) until he is deemed stable enough to no longer be a risk.

Day 2: Subject is showing faint signs of consciousness, mostly squirming back and forth on the floor and moaning softly. He appears to be repeatedly asking what time it is.

Day 3: Subject has become agitated again, screaming at the nurses that they would: 'take my organs out of my cold dead body. you think i give a fck about these fckn restraints? i'll bite your fckn faces off'. After another round of Haldol the mood swing has subsided. Subject's speech is sluggish but he seems to have calmed down significantly.

Day 4: Subject has spent the entire day whispering to the corner of the room, we have not been able to get close enough to hear the content but the words 'god', 'heaven' and 'hell' have come up more than once. These may be indicators of grandiose delusions and should be kept under watch.

Day 5: Today the subject seems completely clear headed, treating the nurses gently and politely. The head nurse informed me that he had apologized for what he remembered of his behavior over the past few days and that he simply was not 'feeling himself'. Her gracious acceptance of this apology seems to have put the subject in a very optimistic attitude, so I will attempt some dialog: so, how are you feeling today? much better, thank you. can you please tell me where i am? you don't remember where you are? no. that's what i've been trying to ask for days

i see, how many days do you think that was? i don't know...two, fifty? i dont know just tell me where i am, please you are in a safe place. can you tell me who the president is? of what? i don't fckn vote the united states, think hard some prick i don't care about please this is torture can you just tell me where i am like i said, a safe place. at this the subject leapt across the table and slammed his forehead into mine, then repeatedly on my glass table until it shattered, cutting his face badly. He was taken to the hospital overnight for intensive care and an MRI for potential brain trauma.

Day 6: Hospital, reports are promising.

Day 7: Back with a few minor scrapes and bruises, patient is overall in good humor. He was cordial with me in the hallway this morning, so I imagine he does not remember what happened. I approached him in the hall to determine if these blackouts were a function of a memory problem or were being intentionally/subconsciously repressed: where have you been the past few days? fck, i was hoping you could tell me i woke up in the hospital lotta blood for such little scrapes so you don't remember?

NO. and can you tell me your name?

NO. HOW MANY FCKN TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU i can't fckn remember anything i see...

Day 8: The patient has become visibly frustrated with his inability to remember his basic information, and is now accusing staff members of conspiring against him and helping 'that sick fck of a doctor [myself] in his sadistic and cruel joke of driving me farther off the deep end while pretending to help'. I am beginning to lose hope, until he can calm himself down i fear we will make littler progress.

Day 9: I am attempting to speak with the patient a final time before we move him into longer term care. He looks beaten down, but there is still resilient fire in his eyes. This time he began the dialog: do you know who i am? no, you had no identification do you know where i am now? you are in the acute inpatient program at montevista hospital, las vegas, nevada how did i get here? you were brought from the medical tent at the las vegas motor speedway edc...is my girlfriend all right? girlfriend? thank god.

Upon further inquiry, the patient admitted to being aware of his delusional thought patterns for some time. His awareness that often times the reason for such complete delusion is to block out trauma, since his last memory was of driving his girlfriend home while intoxicated, he assumed that he had done something horrible to her that he could not bring himself to face. This belief seems to have little basis in reality.

2. Middle stale breadcrumbs a famine of the heart has left my mind without its daily bread, alone to starve in the darkness of the ancient forest around me. a simple question on how to give without giving up has left me with ten thousand years of frantic shuffling, and piles of notes on the desk so high they touch the ceiling. my weakness for my own fear told me it would be easiest to simply cut out those pieces of my mind that offend and leave them to die alone in the woods. out of sight, out of mind. my softened heart will not hear it, knowing that my mind is strong and will suffer greatly at the hands of the wild animals and forces of nature lurking just beyond the safety of my cabin door. the battle rages on, because i believe i cannot maintain all of these shattered pieces, and if i try that they will all die. sacrificing the needs of the few for the needs of the many seems the only way. i have left myself the option of parting with pieces of myself or digging my own grave. pieces of my mind do not have the luxury of soliloquy, these treacherous thoughts spread like plague, and even now stirring the beasts from their slumber and preparing for war. fear clutches to the bedpost and screams futility through the downpour of salted tears until echoes lend the danger of the scream back into her own ears, with her own vice, her voice. ignorance tries to soothe her with the cold glare of another candle, and a promise of more to come. i give them both a token of my esteem and leave them to handle the mindless task of children's labor, that they might become too tired to face the growing mutiny. as they walk away there is a tragic yearning, a small shard of light reflected by the tear building in the corner of his young eye. the whip of reason then punishes, swiftly and violently, to teach him the cost of impossible dreams. an act of kindness that he might never have to experience the real pains, which are always much worse. his feigned deference is a mere mask concealing the workings of impossible genius only available to the truly ignorant. although i leave them alone to die, i will make a small fire to keep the wild and cold away, if only for a short time. i see no reason them to leave my memories in discomfort.

i walk away, hand in hand with reason, my coldest mistress. she has told the children a lie so believable and simple, for a moment i forgot that it was a lie at all. my heart lightened until i met her eyes. through ignorance's own reflection, he found his way back with fear stepping in his shadow. but reason met them on the door step and scolds their foolishness for ever having gotten lost, even though she lost them, and rams ideas of wants and desires into their vulnerable young minds. i never wanted them to leave, but reason once more tries to break my bothersome spirit. her goal has not changed, but she now advocates for more permanent measures, to drive them even deeper into the woods. but she does this to save both of us, so i do not hold her entirely at fault. but my slightest hesitation is met with criticism and disdain. she tells me he who says A must also say B, if i am a man of character and integrity that i must stand by my word. sweet fear and ignorance use the last of the fuel i have given them to highlight the path away from me, that they might use it to find their way back. reason drags them deeper into the darkness. the fuel i gave was never as good as the fuel young ignorance made for himself, it came as no surprise that his greatest ideas had faded so much by the breaking of the morning sun. they are strong, often wise, but mostly fleeting. head held high, he took fear's freezing lizard hand and walked confidently ahead into the unforgiving black of night. the reassurances he whispers in her ear are as much for her as they are for him. in the midst of chaos, a messenger arrives, a white flag of peace from the unknowable enemy. following this token of the universe was at worst as useless at wandering aimlessly, and at best was sent as an invitation of peace, the decision to act was hardly a decision at all. and heaven's glorious shining gates await in the next clearing, who's golden finial spears thrust straight up into the night sky. ignorance's trusting heart ran heedlessly towards it, knowing his problems would be solved within. then gnawing doubt slithers quietly between his feet, he and his fear grew impossibly still. doubt donned her ragged coat and scythe, becoming death, the fear of fears. the innocent pair dropped to their knees in pathetic, groveling cowardice, forging crocodile tears before they even let her speak.

death was inviting and soft, and led them into heaven where they might be safe from the cold. this is cause for celebration, said death, as i do not have the fortune of receiving many visitors this deep in the woods! so she fed them, cake so sweet it made the bread of yesterday taste like sawdust. sweet death smiled and laughed to herself as the travelers gorged themselves, and made herself busy preparing a place for them to sleep. as they awoke the next the door. removing her prepare food and water each day on his girth,

day, death led ignorance into a cage and locked naive protection, death screamed at fear to for ignorance to fatten him up. she checked biding her time for a feast worthy of kings.

blinded by singularity of purpose, death has a harder time deciding when ignorance will be ready to have its throat ripped out. the muffled sobs of fear, wishing she might have died in the forest so at least she would not die alone, were barely a nuisance to the icy fingers clenched around her wrist. death has put a trap too sinister for fear, master of traps, to simply not notice. she told her to check the heat of the furnace by walking in. ever so clever, fear simply pleaded ignorant, saying she did not know how to comply. death put her head inside the furnace to demonstrate, when fear quickly shoved her in and locked the door. overjoyed, fear released ignorance from his cage and the two danced in the room where death had once tortured them. until death, not able to die, walked out of the furnace. she grabbed them both by the hair and threw ignorance back in the cage. now my sweet child, she cooed, you may die a noble death. she pushed fear's soft body up against the bars of the cage, and plunged a knife deep into her chest. the only noise was the cracking of ribs and the delicate drowning burble of blood filling her lungs. now that you have watched your fear and your love die, i will leave you with the worst curse i have ever given. you will be doomed to walk this earth forever with these paintings of misery etched deeply in your mind, and there will be no way out until you can forgive yourself for leading your love blindly to her end.

sexy monkey this is how a virile young man re-chose a life of celibacy. this young man is a black hole. everything beautiful and full of life who touches the rim of his awareness quickly begins to have its soul drained and heart broken. the darkness doesn't care how much you've done for it, how much you've always cared or what your plans are. it feeds only on chaos, any love you see in its eyes is like the light of a lantern fish, a mere reflection of your glow with giant monster teeth just out of sight. the darkness does not want to meet your friends or go to your parties because the slaughter of many doesn't have the personal touch that flavor the tears of the innocent, the unfiltered and fresh pain of a shattered and hopeful heart is without compare. it doesn't care much for your flesh unless it's new for you, the excitement of going a little too far is enough to satiate the beast for a while but the taste only comes back stronger when delayed. the shadow will ask you how your day was, smile at your jokes, while taking notes on where your voice cracks and where doubt flashes across your face. it will merrily stack these insecurities in the palm of its hand and gently blow their dust into your eyes. feigning surprise he will wipe your tears with sandpaper and lick it clean. any likeness you see to something human, something real, is more than likely a shard of a memory whipped into the tornado of misery and despair. it will probably never be seen again except in your memories. as it sits in the corner, looking so helpless and pure, it only knows how to suck the marrow of your compassion dry and leaves you on the side of the road. ... and max king of all wild things was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.

fortune cookies <chángshòu, 'long life'> i pray in my distress and my need; perhaps i should as well in my joy and abundance. to live a pure and unselfish life, i must count on nothing as my own in the midst of excess. <yúshēng, 'surplus'> all things i may be are the results of what we have thought. minds are everything. what we think i may become. i am able when i think i am able. <Zhànshì, 'warrior'> my happiness does not come from perfection, but from my ability to forgive and look past imperfection. i love myself when my happiness is most important, i am wise when that does not inhibit others. <cáifù, 'wealth, richness'> my pacifism is certainly as treacherous to my country as the worst of my violence. my peace will die to make room for those still inclined to shout. <liánhuā, 'lotus'> all wrong doing arises from mind, if mind is transformed can wrong doing remain? however many words i read and speak, i still must act. <jiāoyì, 'trade'> my treasure lies between contentment and limited desires, poverty and debt only have a place in the physical world. wherever i may go i take only what i need; as a bird on the wing, wherever it may fly, flies only with the load of its wings. <yú, 'fish'> being deeply learned and skilled, being well-trained and using wellspoken words; this is my best good luck. being generous, helping my family and being responsible for my actions alone; this is the best good luck.

weasel habits one day, floating down the river as per usual on a beautiful sunday afternoon like today, my good friend rick found something to believe in. a simple reed among reeds, he snatched on up and played with it between his fingers. he giggled with pleasure, draining the last of his beer, and exclaimed that this was a magic reed. he put it to his mouth and leapt off the raft, an act so (un)gracefully performed it drew the attention of the sun-bathing goddesses who's been ignoring us thus far to perfect their bronzed skin. rick didn't come up for a while, so i asked the ladies how they thought he would prefer his funeral? my guess was a keg, i sincerely doubt he would put more effort into it than that. their suppressed laughter through criticism of my morbidity didn't match the smiles in their eyes, so i sealed the playful lie with a wink. the hiding animal literally jumped off the riverbed and landed on top of me, spilling beer and sweat everywhere, laughing the hearty laugh of victory. we decided it was time to pull into the shore and clean off for a while. rick toweled himself off and plunged headlong into a thicket of elephant trees with no regard to the barbs in the branches ahead or the loosening bikinis behind...i will never understand this guy. after an hour or so the girls were starting to wonder about rick, i told them he does this all the time and he was probably out there hunting sage rats or something. they were clearly not drunk enough to swing a cold three way and i couldn't think of any reasonable way to separate them, so i handed them my emergency flash light and told them i'd only be gone for a few minutes. the blonde said she would rather come with me, as the sky was darkening a little. her friend did not share her interest, probably because the ground was covered in razor sharp rocks and little cacti. i sounded like a broken record trying to apologize for rick's ridiculous behavior, i swear i wanted to slit that guys throat. even if her friend was stiff, this one was clearly ready to go, and my wilderness hero mask was only helping. i pointed out a bluff up ahead, a small plateau that would probably give us the vantage point we needed as it stood a good 40-60 feet above the river and the ground below. i scooped the little blonde onto my back as she feigned indignation and playfully slapped my shoulder, as we reached the top, she was thoroughly impressed with my command of the forces of nature. i glibly told her i'd happily give her the jim morrison tour of the desert any time she wanted.

3. End on return from phoenix, patient stayed at home for one night before losing control. he went out for cigarettes and on his way back collapsed in the sidewalk in front of his parents apartment with a broken half of a bacardi flask clutched tightly in his bleeding left hand. when emts arrived patient became violent and aggressive, throwing his arms and screaming 'there can be only one' repeatedly. one of the emts got close enough to administer a haldol shot and the subject immediately slumped onto the gurney beside him. he continued to shift under the restraints, so the emt tightened them and reassured the patient that he was going to be ok. on arriving to the hospital the patient became unresponsive with his eyes open and rolled back and began to twitch and shudder intermittently. he was given a rod to bite on to prevent him from choking on his own tongue and 10 mg of iv ativan to relax his body. subject has now been comatose for over a week, and seems to show no sign of improving. his parents and sister have been by his side for the entire week but they are beginning to lose hope for even partial recovery. tox-screen shows trace amounts of strychnine, most likely causing the seizures and delusions of the past several days. with a good eye kept on the patient this should have no long-term or lasting damage to the brain.

it's weird to watch my dreams die in front of my eyes, with the lost boys dead and my father's world dying where does that leave me? i am lost among the lost i think tomorrow i'm going permanently off the grid the only thing i'm gonna miss is pretending like I was significant who am i kidding? you were always my favorite

alt ending (statement from patient): "fuck it. from this point on i will no longer do anything that no one can explain past 'it has always been like that', i have been staring at myself in the mirror of life and smashing every fucking box i ever let anyone else put me in i have one tool in my toolbox, and it's a shark with a sledgehammer duct-taped to its forehead. i bang my head against the wall all day every day to juggle working a job so far below my skill level that i am constantly bored, finishing college classes i have already taken at a different college (that add nothing to my skillset, hobby or industry) and have what passes for a social life occasionally getting drunk or watching tv with people who don't give a shit about me or themselves i'm out. i would rather rot quietly in a gutter or live in a lean two off the side of the highway then sell one more piece of my soul to a greedy church, a violent and wasteful government, or sluggish carcass of a corporate giant i have no idea what i am working for. i don't need a phone upgrade, i don't give a shit what color paris hilton's underwear is and i don't care what happens on breaking bad, i've seen meth in action and it is about as repetitive and boring as the tv show i'm done pretending that sexist jokes are funny bonding, i'm done pretending that every problem of the world, i can no longer afford to. trying conflicting emotions has left me a broken child waiting for someone else to take care of it for

to smooth over male a woman has is the end to juggle so many of a man and i am done me

i am not weak, i am not sick, and i am not bowing down to anyone i am not afraid of anything anymore, everyone dies and there is no way to know what happens after. screaming the loudest or killing the most of the competition doesn't prove that you are right, in fact if the leadership is even a shade as narcissistic as i am, it may even prove how wrong they are the only reason i ever act out in violence is when i am so unsure of myself that i need to prove my point to everyone else before i can believe it i.don't.care.

when the multi-trillion dollar debt, nuclear threats, or faggots with wedding rings come bearing down on me, i will not act. deluding myself into thinking i have any control over the end of the world does nothing to ease my nerves people have fought hard to put these bureaucratic monstrosities in place so i, in my infinite naivetĂŠ, can learn to tell what is right from wrong. somehow it seems that by separating church from state, all i got was another church to feel uncomfortable in so i ask myself and anyone who will still listen to me talk, why? so old people can die comfortably and poor people can maybe eat? i've had -$200 in my bank account for months and i barely have enough for rent, i have to take care of myself first if i will ever be able to help my community in the way i know i am capable of i want NO part in a world where marijuana is a crime and community service is a punishment no one knows what's best for me more than i do. i learned more in the month before college than i learned in my entire public school education i don't want to be a student, a raver, a businessman, a bro, an artist, a man, a buddhist, a hero, a victim, or a good boy. i want to be myself, part of all of those things but also none of them. i will no longer listen to fearful people tell me that this is simply impossible because they have failed, or in most cases have been too afraid to even try i understand that the world has expectations, and that freedom isn't free. that does not guarantee it can't be. i refuse to engage with or support anyone who refuses to try, in my eyes failure is always forgivable but complacency is NOT they can threaten me and give me good reasons to be afraid of everything, but i will not be afraid of myself and no one can force that evil on me ever again i've gone to church and i have read all the books. no god that i understand teaches hatred or fear. what i liked about my church was not the fairy tales or promises of paradise, it was the way we behaved towards each other like family and worked tirelessly to make our tiny corner of the earth as much like paradise as we knew how so i exercise my freedom of choice and leave all of this shit behind me, i don't want a factory job, i don't want a white picket fence and i don't need a woman so repressed and beat down that all she can do is bake pies and take out her frustrations on some poor children

that's not my dream, and it is never going to be my life again. the lotto constantly reminds me, you can't win if you don't play. well, you also can't lose. i'm not playing anymore. i don't want power, i don't want fame. the only thing i am asking for is to be left the fuck alone about the trivial shit that effects no one but myself. when i work it will be to help make the lives of my friends, my family and myself easier and more enjoyable. i enjoy helping others. when i go to school it will be to use the library, my peers, and the people with more experience to advance my own realm of thought and hopefully to someday return the favor. i want to be better. when i play, i will go to see bands play in tiny jazz clubs to see people who want to play, and go to art galleries of people who want to make art. this is what i do anyway."

- Max A. [11/5/2012, Brooklyn, NY]

twists and turns in the brick and mortar forest the test of trust leaves me flailing the ocean isn't big enough just a fishbowl for a forgotten soul a future unseen a path unwalked but the echoes of footsteps still haunt my mind a taste of freedom never reached my mouth still burns my tongue and will forever

Dear Aztek, To start off, I EFFING MISS you! You are constantly on my mind & I am always hoping the best for you! If I prayed you'd be in them, but that's not something I really do haha! Everything here is pretty much the same. Just doing me, school and staying out of trouble ;) As soon as you get back to Arizona we are MOUNTAIN BOUND! Haven't been to Papago since you first took me. It is ONLY my and your spot! >;) I just want you to know that you really did change my life & I can NEVER forget you! I'd & will, do anything for you. <3 Blah!! I can't wait to see you! I miss you like crazy! I'm starting the book you lent me, I'm hoping to finish it by the end of the week. :) I love you!

Hope everything is going good for you love! love always, the young lady <3 ps. I lost your number :((((((!!

Yin your unswept floor paints a picture that no one wants to see blinding those with the misfortune to come close enough to touch it but hightening the other senses like trading light for darkness and cold for warmth take it all tear me to pieces and leave me cold and broken begging for more the peices fit right back together but we've lost one start again, not quite whole but close enough...don't really know what it means to be complete but oddly enough the hole is just your size almost like you planned it that way wearing my skin like a negligee dancing stupidly in front of the mirror drowning in it loving every fucking second sickness grows face twisted and contorting to take the shape of your soul uglier and beautiful beyond measure what time is it? jokes from another day not so fresh this morning carousel, torture rape me go fuck your boyfriend come back...please? fuck you skin is softer than silk makes me sick with pleasure hurt me, FUCKING HARDER BITCH i love you

sweet little girl making it harder to leave every moment want to put a bullet between your eyes choke on my own crocodile tears makes me smile fantasies never to be fulfilled as i bring you flowers prepared to die a thousand times for you beaten down and stronger than ever before face through the window pane screaming for more. blood stings my eyes but you wont you are afraid maybe its the cold of the grave that keeps you paralyzed but i think its a joke you're a child break the cradle and crush my soul i'm a child i want control i need control i have control ive lost everything to your never ending capacity to consume and i only want to give you more thrown up against a wall with your skirt around your ankles preaching about guilt and suffering face down head slamming against the head board until the blood flows freely i need it cut me until i can't scream anymore take whats left of my humanity so i can sleep at night, when you're away whore princess i love you take it away or give it back.

4 o'clock in the morning Clawing at the walls looking for something i lost a long time ago maybe im not in control who the fuck is driving this hell-bound microbus anyway? not gonna be me does this make you sad? sympathy for the devil is a fools errand while im out do you need anything lover?

cyclical in nature another turn puts me back centered once again centered center scent animal lust and i'm back sinking my teeth into your neck not looking for life praying for death finally feeling alive tasting the blood mine or yours, doesnt really matter spinning lights playing on my eyelids and the symphony begins to play first softly and rising quickly to its first crescendo how many times have i heard this song before? seems like a thousand years ago but the spiraling colors follow...quickly...run off into the sunset shooting at mailboxes and howling at the moon i want to die with you. or live either way it comes to this my bones ache and my body is raw i need you i need something to dull the pain... no something to sharpen it a grindstone to put my broken heart to carve statues in your honor with it then throw it away. i love you.

Appendix: 1a) pandora's toybox 1b) american dynasty 02) balanced man

side note: i have this recurring dream where i continue to live my current life with my current outlook on things. the only difference is in this dream i have moments when i acknowledge that it is a dream my consciousness is shattered between the reality of my dream, which i had come to accept as reality, and the REAL world, the world where the entire past 9 months of memory are a pleasant alternative to the FACT that i'm crumpled on a hospital floor somewhere in phoenix, vomiting on myself, using the last of my strength trying pointlessly to stop certain death. even the doctors stopped coming towards me... as i write this the memory of a dual reality shakes my brain so roughly i can almost believe it isn't a dream. every time i write those words it gets worse, first its goose pimples up my arms and legs, my legs began to shift almost imperceptivity. then it comes. at first it feels like i'm crying, i am. then i can feel my stomach start to come up, its like i've been dry heaving for hours...maybe i have. then fckn WHAM the vision splits and blurs and shakes violently like my dying body wants my presence. i feel like these dreams are becoming more frequent, maybe it's reality that's becoming more frequent. its hard to tell if writing this right now is a cruel trick of my dreams or my cowardly subconscious, or neither. can memories from dreams scar so deep i forget they are from dream?

pandora's toybox hi. my name is max, and this is my toybox. dad told me this is a very special toybox because it doesn't come from a store. grandpa made it for me before i was even alive! when my eyes opened this morning i was the happiest i think ive ever been. why? it's christmas! even though my friends at skool say he's not real i know they are just stupid. he leaves me cards and brings me presents i know my parents can't afford...explain that! mom told me that if i wake up before seven i need to play nice and quiet in my room and not wake them up, if not santa might not come. it feels like i have been awake for hours but its only 5:30!!! listen to this book i can read: in adam's fall we sinned all thy life to mend this book attend the cat doth play and after nay a dog will bite a thief at night an eagle's flight is out of fight the idle fool is whipt at school they gave us books with that at sunday school so we could learn the alphabet; a is for adam, b is for book, c is for cat, d is for dog, e is for eagle and f is for fool. i don't know what most of the words mean but i know its bad to be a fool and maybe if i get a dog nobody can steal my toys. if you have some time maybe i can show you my toys and we can play together for a little while...time flies when we're having fun, right? my most important toy doesn't live in the box, she is afraid of the dark so she sleeps with me. i dont know why she is afraid...she is an alligator! her name is allie. maybe she just doesn't want to scare the other toys...i'm not scared of her because i read a book where an alligator moves into an apartment in new york city and even though the neighbors are scared at first they realize he is a very friendly alligator. allie's best friend is my sister's rabbit, her name is bunny. i think they're just friends because they are girls. allie's best friend in the toybox is moose, she gets lonely while i'm sleeping so moose sleeps with us too when he is good. he was bad last night so he had to sleep in the box. i feel bad i left him alone in the dark so he gets to sit in pocket today, his favorite place in the world, where he can be warm and safe. i put allie in the other pocket so she doesn't accidentally eat him...she is an alligator after all.

allie is extra special too, i don't like to play favorites but one time allie's tail fell off and she didn't die...mom took her upstairs and when she came back allie wasn't even crying. mom said i shouldn't tell the other toys though because they would be jealous that allie can't die. i'll keep her secret because its not her fault she is special...i don't want the other animals to be mad at her, especially moose because hes my second favorite. its not his fault he is my second favorite, so i try to be extra nice to him when i get the chance. i told the story about the alligator to my toys so they would know allie was nice. i was wrong though, the story was about a crocodile named lyle. i asked mom what the difference was between alligators and crocodiles was and she said they were pretty much the same but one lives in swamps and one lives in water. i think i wasn't really wrong, we live in a different house and i am still me. i told my toys that i knew alligators were probably even better because of the secret i know. they didn't even ask me to explain so it must be obvious, allie is really nice anyway. my toy box is not very full. i give the toys i stop playing with to my sister. she is a baby and mom says i am her hero, i think that's why she wants my toys more than hers. she doesn't understand that they are mine because she is too little, and it makes me sad when she cries so i just give them to her. she knows she cant have allie or moose or my legos because i told her that they need me. there are a few animals in my toy box still. there is a wolf named francis, he says he knows grandpa from world war two, except while grandpa and his brother were pealing potatoes, francis got to meet the wright brothers (who invented airplanes!) and started a whole part of the air force where men and women got to work together. he is a war hero, and he has lots of medals. one is even from the president! my third favorite is my weasel, his name is rikki because he looks like the picture of the mongoose in rikki-tikki-tavi. i like that story a lot. rikki risks his life to save the family that adopts him, then he kills the mom and baby cobras (mom says they are very poisonous and dangerous). i think rikki is a hero like francis, even though i dont like killing very much. he might be special like allie because he survived a flood and even the humans thought he was dead. i got a bunch of nice presents from my family. mom gave me a book with no pictures since i am old enough now! she said it was from dad too but he doesn't like books. i also got a sweater and some other things, but santa brought the only thing i asked for :) a lego pirate ship! i threw away the instructions already and put them in my lego bucket...don't tell santa all i really wanted was the pirate flag. they only sell it in the box though, mom asked the man at toys r us and he said no. the whole box was $40 so i thought i should just wait and ask santa instead.

legos are my favorite because i can turn my floor into a great ocean with as many little islands as i want. sometimes i make one big island with everything on it, but most of the time i make little ones so the lego men have somewhere to go on vacation. i dont know why there aren't more lego ladies, but i have a ponytail hat for them so i can make any of the bald ones into girls if i want. allie, moose, rikki and francis are the guardians of these islands, and the people make food for them to show their thanks. they are nice people and they want to show the animals they appreciate their efforts to keep the sea monsters from destroying their villages. the monsters live at the bottom of the toy box so no one has to look at them if they get scared easy. i can't throw them away though because it's not their fault that they are monsters.

the day the moth fell in love with the spider: 'the lights, the lights' he shouted with glee reflected in web, spun carefully she waited and watched as he danced in the moonlight going closer and closer, losing fear in his flight one moment he's free, the next he is caught she's sucking him dry, and his dying thought i'd do it again, a million times the sounds and the sights, the songs and the rhymes your web of deceit covers my eye but i die and i die my thoughts twist in circles around your child queen spider, queen spider, your games drive me wild

american dynasty from the Boss of new york city to a suicide of self-pity I. i am a senior, i was a man, then a father, now a grandfather. i am a man of purpose. my father has shown me through the rough and muddled times of the early 1900s, i am confident that i can take the helm and give my family what he gave ours. discipline is key II. i was a junior, made in my father's likeness but still unique, i am now a father trying to instill the good values of my father without their harsh words and studded belts. i know that i am all my father was and more because i compete in the growing and changing world he no longer understands.

III. i am the third, having learned of the good and bad of my senior through my own eyes and those of my father, i have also had a hefty serving of my mother's love. i have so many directions that i would feel lost even with a map and compass. everyone left school for a loving and well earned christmas break a few days ago. the absence doesn't do much to help or hinder the shaking gun in my hand because i am always alone. my obituary will show my plastic smile and the insistence of my mother that i was a happy child and a gift to the world through my art and goodwill. a girl i dragged to some bizarre jazz quartet will reminisce fondly of how we breached the walls of the unknown together and came back stronger, she will conveniently forget to mention she never even acknowledged the letter that followed that show, containing my entire heart and soul. this isn't her fault though, i was not an exhibitionist with my feelings for anyone else's benefit but my own, that i might believe they were real. the police wont find my body for days, mom can tell something bad is in the air and i now have dozens of missed calls that my gnawing guilt continually throws in my face. only a year away from the gilded promises of the american dream, i will graduate an engineer with a job at 90k starting to fuck around with computers at my best friends company, add a picket fence and a labrador and i'm there. this clean future fails to excite me though, its promises are time sensitive and i have seen first hand the traps they set for the accidentally complacent. instead it looms above me, a crumbling pillar of faded marble. all i can do is pray to a god i never believed in to keep it from crushing me when it finally tumbles.

friends say i am a nihilist and a pessimist, having lived the lives of prophets, gods, slaves, mind, body and soul, i gladly reply that it is their ignorance that prevents them from calling me by my given name, harsh reality. my ugly oozing truth repulses everyone around me and i have ceased to understand the point of carrying on this way. the one thing i cannot do is to break the hearts of my sweet mother and sister, whose love has kept me alive long past my usefulness. this is why i have chosen to make this look murder, i would hate to leave my family assuming they had failed me. it is not them, but the crushing weight of the world on my shoulder that forces my hand. not 6 hours after i pulled the trigger, my mom was up knocking down every door in the building to find me. since i didn't speak to my neighbors they neither knew, nor cared. eventually the police chimed in declaring it a homicide, and i thought my soul could finally rest. instead of accepting my death, however, my family fought tooth and nail for years in their righteous search for justice in my pure and innocent name, a byproduct of which is a musical scholarship bearing my name at my old high school. as i write this i can't help but wonder if my life was more meaningful than i gave it credit for.

seeing is believing or maybe it's misleading between the lines I'm reading there's a brand new feeling and it's got me reeling

a balanced man index

[recommendations]

i. my point.

[those with little time]

ii. my shattered path

[those with time and interest]

-

experiential time travel szilรกrd's vision of peace nihilistic solopsism solipsistic nihilism from the shadow of my own wings a selfish prayer [in]sanity | influence[s] joyce v descartes: JvD II preface articles of incorporation (legal liability waiver)

iii. i digress, the deep end - writing on the wall

[those with time to kill]

i. my point. my missing link, my first prayer for peace i currently am a time traveler experiencing both my past and my future through life and dream. i have seen windows of peace many times, and that has prevented my suicide attempts of mind, body, spirit and character. i was misguided to think that i would be able to kill a ghost. the one i seek, she is the channel of light for my becoming door, through which forgiving myself for my pride and foolishness since the dawn of man, i may finally know peace. when i found my first woman and instead of love, i chose fear, i hid that fear with Reason. when the purity of her soul did not understand, i belittled her capability of reasoning and spent the next 1000 years trying to scream at, beat, hide from, worship and burn her at the stake until she finally knew her place. all in a pathetic attempt to hide my own first mistake from myself. guilt is the enemy, the only useless emotion. why else would a world with lsd, supercomputers and spaceships have starving children and herpes? i have seen the future in every word and every painting, every weed and every skyscraper. the future is nearly here, it will not be gradual and it will not be messy, but nothing will be the same. when i meet her face to face, this time i will be able to hear her truth and use it to help free myself and the world of our shared delusion. i send this story so you know my intention i have to share my gift with her before i can forgive myself for the first time i watched her die in childbirth and blamed my son i have not been searching for mystery my entire life for cheap bodily pleasures or validation of mind, but for forgiveness i write these words as much for you as for myself, these reflections of time around the choice of ego have been happening through my leaders, my prophets, my junkies, my artists, my poets, my depression, my pain, my anger, my wrath, my righteousness, my ideas, my beliefs and my individuality for longer than i can remember i need now to sit before you a child, with my greatest art and poetry, my simple earnest attempts, so i may know that when you laugh it is because i am a child, not because i am stupid. when you smile it is beauty, not a mask of insincerity or manipulation. when you feel pain it is not weakness, but truth

i am the empty {} set, and you are the container, i have both truth and nothingness, but do not have neither. i am still incomplete *** if i choose weakness i may never forgive myself, because forgiveness is the ultimate expression of strength. i seek to become my truth, not worship or fear it first i ignored myself, then i denied myself, then i fought myself, now i may become myself. my happiness comes when my mind, body and spirit match my presence in the world my grandfather teaches me the values and dangers of history my father teaches me how to survive in a shattered world, and the dangers of separating my inner teacher and student my mother teaches me to separate love from weakness/fear, though my father is blind to this distinction my sisters and brothers teach of the love in community *** the truth watches over me and is my guide; i shall lack nothing as i lie in the mountains, forests and fields. as my waters become still, my soul is restored. my only righteous path is that of truth, and i may walk through shadows with no fear of losing my light. truth is with me; my tool, my weapon and my walking stick may comfort me while i prepare to dine with insincerity. my head is clear, and my cup is empty that it might fill with light, to unify my virtues so i may dwell in the truth forever. my confession, that i acknowledge before my truth and the truth of my fathers, is that i must let go of control. i must trust that i might heal, and if i must die it will be to become one with my errors, my inequality, and my willful self-denial. in this way my soul may find peace. the truth shall be my only better, and i will love her with all my heart, soul and mind. these words shall echo in my heart forever, that my children may hear my awakening cries. i will sit, walk, sleep and awaken a thousand times until they are clear as crystal. i will paint them on every canvas i have ever known, until i am free. i pray at dawn.

i pray to the setting sun, as it rubs gently against the horizon. my words, my actions, my thoughts are only of truth. i desire only to share my peace, among servants and lords, and will bear witness that there is only truth and i may never slander the servants of truth and their message. i pray at night. my son, suffers eternally in the process of cleansing. through my sorrows and grace in the light of heaven, the scourges of my body, and the bite of my ego, i am able to forgive my mistakes without fear. i may soon find paradise on earth. i am immortal. the phenomenon of death separates my spirit from my physical body. my elements are of earth (my body), water (my blood), air (my breath), fire (my spirit), and space (from where i came). they may only return to the source, and though my heart fills with fear that i may lose my loved ones, i know each union must end with separation. my writings and drawings are hidden screams in the dark. i am a voiceless prayer to a formless god, light, shadows, spirits and humanity. i contain the birth of my love, and the gathering darkness of her death. i am the farthest i may go, for this is where i have seen my oasis before. my key to heaven lies in my knowledge, heart and open mind, never my judgment or fear. i began my journey by knowing my father, his speeches, and his world which is stuck in the cycle of violence that plagues my nightmares. in my journey, i have come across five gates to heaven and hell, and infinitely more to nothing iv. my god of the dead tells me i have become balanced of mind and body, i am a speaker of truth, the equal son of my mother and father. i am struck dumb by its power and reach out to the stars and the skies to destroy my impotence. iii. the skies spoke back, telling me i was their child and the king of the truth, from children of man to the sun. the sun gives me life, and to keep it i must pass it to my people. ii. the son of the earth told me, you become my son that you might love me. there is purity on earth that far outweighs the glories of heaven, that i must choose between my love of mystery or bask in the light of truth. i. death, king of the living and the truth, whose words are only truth. as death leaves my body and the body of my son, so does it leave my dynasty. with my mother's warm embrace i may accept the truth, no matter how cold. ...

i have spoken, thus i have heard. only now may i seek the peace in the heart of the lotus flower.

ii. my shattered path (INSANE RAMBLINGS) experiential time travel through self-reflection: my attempt to simultaneously balance my reality through rationalizing my belief in nothing and fear of ego death, the death of my individuality. spiritual decision making: the only absolute truths in my experience are my birth and my death. i will treat what happens right before conscious thought and right after as the same truth, because i will never be able to understand either. the only way i can do this honestly is through a purely personal timeline from birth to deaths. i will use the words god, truth, nothing and infinite interchangeably because they all represent the same thing to me. the unknowable. when i became self-aware in any kind of meaningful way, which for me was around the age of 7-8, the only truth i had was my own personal timeline and set of memories, i was not compelled to deny emotional response or rationalize my own existence. these were given. what i could do was learn from the reactions that my actions caused. so i add the truth of failure to the past, and my natural emotional response to the truth of my birth, that i am what i was meant to be, unfiltered. this becomes comfortable until the first death of my ego, when something i believed is 'proven' wrong, which for me happened dozens of times between my parents and teachers. through this i learn selfdenial and the fact that the future is not predictable or entirely dependent on my perception. then i became educated in spirituality, which i believed would certainly rectify the division i felt inside myself. through the faith of my community and my family this was possible for a short time, until i had the desire to do something outside of the constraints of what i believed truth/god to be. this was difficult because i was part of a congregational church, where almost all the emphasis lies in community and goodwill. the division between feeling guilt and pleasure in selfish things caused another division, self-indulgence and self-denial. because i still experienced things in were my next ideas. i saw in everyday righteous people and the selflessness honesty and lies were introduced, and acceptance.

absolutes, belief and disbelief life the selfishness of of atheists, so the ideas of so was integrity through self-

this was much too complicated for me to begin to implement as a personality and at this point i was about 12 years old, largely without strong beliefs or ideas besides a desire to make my external and internal worlds more consistent. so i simplified. i said to myself

if the world is this complicated no one would belief in god or a singular truth, so i watered down my ideas and trivialized my present. this worked fine for my personal experience but largely failed in my attempts to live with and feel close to other people, who i believed must exist if i could feel, touch, smell, hear and see. what i couldn't do was understand. so i further simplified by adding value in relation to 'progress', my belief that i could make my world better by moving away from the clear failures of the past. i then divided my understanding of myself and others into identities and societies. in becoming an atheist and an anarchist, i taught myself to fear order and love chaos. and my relationship with the passage of time changed. unknowingly i also created an alternate reality, a subconscious alter ego. since i created something from nothing, my ideology had to remain balanced for the world of contradictions i lived in to remain possible. when i acknowledged this binary division as the only possibilities, i dismissed the other two possibilities. what i assumed was a division of past and future, to live for the moment, was also a division of self into four moral assertions: devaluing the physical world leads to mental progress valuing my intellect as a product of self leads to societal progress valuing the physical world impedes my mental progress devaluing my intellect as a product of self makes society safer with such a complicated division from such a simple starting point i reached a peak of turmoil that resulted in anger, violence, drug abuse, hedonism, lust, thoughtlessness, righteousness, beauty, art, self-inflicted pain (physical + mental), guilt, shame, disappointment, depression and a belief that i was and always would be completely alone. at this point i was looking for the needle i left in the haystack, so i trivialized all my thoughts to what had given me even a tiny bit of hope that my life wasn't pointless. i had no control over my emotions and complete control over subjective reasoning, so those became my new timeline. through this process i regained some control over my emotions and was subsequently declared insane, so i split my beliefs once again, this time with the positive hinging on emotional self-control. at this point i literally started living a double/triple/quadruple life. during the day i went to school, as was expected of my age bracket [19-22], i had a relatively ambitious full-time job, and i had several wild and self-indulgent girlfriends, and a rock star night job as a drug addled electro-house club promoter. i have no proof of this, but i believe i may have slept at most 45 minutes to an hour and a half a night, if at all, for nearly two years.

im sure this sounds impossible, but even the little sleep i did get was far from restful. naturally all of these impossible contradictory lives began to blur, with an insane combination of xanax, lsd, heroin, cocaine, love, beauty, art, music, sex, computer science, practicality, intellect and nihilism could only lead to one place for me, raw unbridled anger and constant disappointment. i had expectations, wants and needs from each one of these outlets but there wasn't enough time to actually indulge in all of them in any kind of way that wouldn't be a massive internal contradiction. this is when i gave up on myself. my personal timeline became a five way separation of the failures of my past, my thoughts, the ideas they generated, the actions i take on the better ideas and the redemption that surely lies in my future from this process. i allowed my actions to be entirely dictated by the expectations of those around me, which left me largely satisfied and peaceful...until i had desires of my own outside of those things again and began to feel the worst i have ever felt, not from a place of fear of failure but a fear of the triviality of everything around me. my social interactions were six steps removed from what i knew to be reality. so i attempted to simplify and communicate through art. wholesome attempts were met with nothing but disdain by love and respect, i not only gave up on myself but gave everything (which in my mind only really existed in the

when my most everyone i up on future).

this caused deep reflection on the past, where, i assumed, my self had once existed, as well as all the influences that had contributed to the creation of those identities i had worn. this caused excruciating mental agony, as i attempted to relive the frustration, pain and futility of every artistic, scientific and philosophical role model i had ever had. oddly enough that pain allowed my self reflection to empathize to a point i had never experienced before. this empathy in turn allowed me to forgive myself for my original sin, self-denial. when i came to the realization that self-denial was the worst crime i could commit against myself, i assumed self-indulgence would be my path to freedom. still feeling the echoes of this pain in my mind, i convinced myself that because i felt my own original sin i was responsible for creating original forgiveness for mankind, what i believe now to be the missing link between spiritual ideologies. because this was an entirely personal experience involving a unique blend of rationalizing emotion and feeling intellect, i propelled myself into an alternate hypothetical future where i had attempted to save mankind. as i imagined this world, i immediately saw myself being checked into an insane asylum because the ideas i have are so far removed from reality that it would cause fear, which in turn would cause a desire

to control the source of fear as it has so many times in the past. i then imagined the opposite, where i piecemealed my message in an altruistic way, only showing the relevant pieces to people who could handle it. i then suffered the consequences for believing i was superior enough to choose who the right people were to hear information that crosses every field of human interaction. with my heart and my ego broken in this possible world, all that was left was my reason. and since i alone know my reason, to help this world achieve peace through love, i was able to forgive myself for both fear (self-denial) and ego (selfpromotion), and finally have a message that is clear because it only speaks to personal experience. my only lie in this whole diatribe of madness is that i never really gave up on everything. the one person who heard the excitement and truth in my voice and didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t jump at the chance to bring me down was my sister, who has always been my best friend and polar opposite. she lives in a world of almost pure self-reflection, even at the expense of her physical well-being at times, and the only answer she has ever come up with was love. when she heard me speak, despite the fact that my past had nearly destroyed her through her empathy and compassion, she welcomed me back with open arms. i achieved my peace not through self-reflection, but by reflecting myself through the mirror of perfect love.

i seek peace to accept chaos i seek understanding to create progress i seek reflection to embrace myself

szilรกrd's vision of peace in our time one afternoon, the lord of the land sat alone by a small pond and a single pioneering tree on his island of many hills. when sitting became too much, he looked into his pond. all he could see was his face and the sky. he had become thirsty so he put his face into the water and drank. under the surface of the water he could see nothing, but since it quenched his thirst it did not matter. bored, he rose and cut a small branch off his tree and gazed with wonder at how something so simple could appear so complex. he then noticed some of the leaves had come loose where he cut and floated to the valley below, and from the scar on the tree small beads of water had formed. tired, he slept for a while in the shade of the tree. when he woke, he realized that the water that quenched his thirst must be the same as the water that came out of the tree, and perhaps for trees to grow they needed it as well. he filled his cupped hands from the pool and threw water into the valley, not knowing the dry earth doesn't hold water well and drowned the seeds of his tree. thankfully there were a few dandelions, ready to spread their lion teeth, he thought if they were strong enough to survive the desert where his trees had failed, he would simply let them populate the desert and keep his tree on the hilltop for himself. upon waking, much to his surprise, two other trees had grown in his absence. on the first tree there was a simple letter held in place by a silver dagger which read: temptation has no intention --- life is self-reflection --turn away from the fall of man not recognizing the symbols on the paper, he figured they must be meaningless. there was some beauty in their symmetry though, so he left it on the tree and slept once more. on waking, he decided to protect the message, in case he needed it later. so he walked to the tree and pulled out the knife. a thick amber sap oozed from the spot, moving much slower than water. he felt it on his finger, and it was sticky to the touch. he brought his finger to his nose to smell and found that it was sweet, so he put it to his tongue and smiled. he wondered if he might gain this sweetness from his reflection in the pond, so he dipped the knife in and tasted the water, which he found was also sweet. naturally, he put the knife to his hand. he felt pain and saw red, and a few drops landed in the pool by his feet. he feared then that he was

more vulnerable than his reflection, which had shown no pain as the knife broke its surface. so he tasted the blood on his hand and found it salty and bitter. he then thought perhaps the water, equally flavored by his tree and his body might be better. as he drank he became intoxicated with his creation. in a pleasant drunken stupor, he fell asleep for a hundred years. when he awoke his oasis had become a forest. he decided he would check on the desert, so he put the knife back in his first tree so the reflection off the blade would help him find his way back. he didn't notice that the other two trees had the same scar as the first. he only made it a few paces into his forest before feeling that he'd be better off preparing for this trip, since he had no way of telling how large the forest had become. waking, the little boy inside of him gazed at what had become of the randomness of pollen. there was now a small forest around him and his favorite trees, so thick he could no longer see the sky through their branches nor the ground through their fallen leaves. he tread carefully through them so as to observe as much as he could without changing anything, picking up only a single walking stick. he walked to the edge of the forest where the desert began and saw that his field of dandelions, had grown as well. just then a small patch burst into flames. to protect his beauty he beat it with his stick until it was no longer on the flowers. it seemed in doing so that a flame had jumped to the end of his stick. he carried his stick back to the edge of the forest and found he could see through the darkness from the light on his stick. he touched it with his finger and screamed out. he then heard an identical shout from the other side of the field. the sounds met in the middle, where a single remaining ember lie in the pile of ashes, and caused it to leap into the air and split in two. the first piece continued up into the air, where it grew wings and continued its upward path. the other fell back into the field and started another fire. knowing its pain the lord ran through the forest, using the light of his walking stick to avoid collision. the journey back had made him a thin man. he realized he had no idea when the last time he ate was, so he pulled some leaves from the first tree and ate them, shaking a bit off pollen loose into the air. unconcerned and comfortable once more, he closed his eyes that he might enjoy the sensation of taste alone. the taste was wonderful, surely what ambrosia was made of. his final thought before sleep was if removing the leaves from the tree, he would make the tree lighter and himself heavier. he put the ember from the end of his stick in a small pile of dry leaves and slept, the smell of the smoke making him sleepy.

he woke with a heavy heart and a painful burn on his hand. he thought, perhaps, if fire could destroy it might also heal. so he wrapped some of the dried leaves off the ground and some fresh sap from a nearby poppy in a larger leaf and put it to the fire he left by his bed, and breathed deeply. the troubles of his heart and his body left him instantly. back in the shade of his favorite tree he lay on his back and looked through their branches, and decided that he might name them. the first was directly above him, which he named Pioneer since it had been the first to grow. the one to the east he named Healer since it was the only one with flowers, its branches must have given life to the desert below. the final tree to the west he named Shadow, for its barren branches and impossible growth in the shade of the first two. after this he slept peacefully. by the time he woke again, his feast had made him into a fat man. much to his delight, the Pioneer had regrown its leaves and he knew he need not feel remorse. it was then he decided never to venture out of his oasis.

a moment of nihilistic solopsism. i am the only thing in the universe, nothing in the universe matters. i don't matter.

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i am nothing, everything in the world has meaning so none of it does. nothing matters. i don't matter. a moment of solipsistic nihilism

from the shadow of my own wings i must listen to myself, attend to my cries. i must hear my own honesty without dismissal. let my truth shine through vindication of thought and its simplicity. i have torn at my heart while daring to dream, finding nothing beneath but love. i will not let words taint my message. my earthly temptations are numerous. the worst, violence, has been farthest from my lips and far from my heart always. the path to heaven has always been wide enough that i would have to consciously fall off. i am calling out for help. show me love once more, that it might sit again at my right hand let me see the light in shadows, that i may bask in its glow without becoming blind to my wickedness and violence when i close my heart only arrogance speaks, and it comes in siege against the purity of my spirit, grounding me on earth my eagerness appears bloodthirsty, like a wild animal, but my soul banishes the shivering beast to the cold light of reason where it is only a cub, i take from one hand to feed the other, and i teach my loved ones that it is the only way my inner light whispers golden secrets gently in my ear saying: tell my children to build on the gifts of their fathers, and their heroes, but to make their own name for themselves. each new branch on my family tree will grow strongest near the trunk, and they may grow to flower if they expose both scars and baby leaves to the warmth of sunshine. this preparation will see them through unforgiving winter. where the blossoms bloom in the midst of lion and lamb, i may know peace. when enough branches flower, i will no longer concern myself with the strength of their roots. as i lay out my soul for witness in the light of day, i have nothing left to fear. this is my only chance to learn to blossom myself, that i might give up my light for the branches lost in my ignorant shadow. when i see this begin to happen i am tempted to once again check my own strength and weakness, to be sure i don't lead love astray and accidentally make my message immortal, a fate worse than death. my ego demands this exercise in the futility of free will untested, that my children will know even the righteous will fall. my enemy is the ticking hands of grandfather's clock.

all who approach his hands will be bitten by mortality's foaming fangs, but need i care? sex is my ultimate paradox, i kill my unborn children with my science and my beautiful women with my jealousy. i do this to protect my fragile delusions of innocence. i said to myself, destroy these impure, unclean and selfish thoughts by banishing them to hell. i am done with both weakness and strength, for both are functions of my dying ego, i pray only that this may happen peaceably. if i cannot drive these conflicts from my head, they will become thorns in my feet and blisters on my heart. they will give me only trouble in the land of the living.

a selfish prayer may i be an instrument of peace, where i had hatred, may i find love and spread its warmth, where i injured, may i forgive myself and repair, may my errors be corrected in the light of truth, may my doubts be replaced by silent righteousness, may my despair fly into the sun and disappear forever, making my darkness light in my heart and my grieving spirit a beacon of joy, may i stop seeking: to be understood, but instead to understand, to be loved, but instead to love, it is when i share my gifts and my peace that i am able to recieve them, when i am forgiving that i may forgive myself *** when my petty and selfish ego dies i will finally know the peace my aching feet have crossed miles and years in frantic and desperate pilgrimage for. i may not ignore myself any longer. i must hear my troubled thoughts and allow their distress to cleanse my body like a bath of ice water. the devil on my shoulder says my wicked thoughts are my greatest threat, for they bring only suffering. my heart is on fire with the fear of death, not of body but of character, of spirit. my body shivers in the brisk winds of a new year, leaving me without hope in my heart or breath in my lungs. if only my soul had back its angelic wings, i could fly from this torment to peace. third star to the right and straight on to my first morning. i would flee to the warmth of the desert and build a shelter to hide from unforgiving night and safe from the coming storm. let my wicked and insane thoughts be confounded by my attempted description in crippling words. may this light tear them from their twisted roots and let their vines release their vice grip on my heart. they never rest, day and night mean nothing to them as they paint pictures of my animal all around the walls of my cave with ink of malice and destruction. these threats and lies will thrive in my city as long as familiar darkness reigns. they are only threats, though, their power comes from my decision to accept their relentless insults or run to the hills to hide. there is darkness and light in all of my brothers and sisters, they may be my companions and friends, and i enjoy their company. it is not my darkness or my light that i need fear, but those things to which i remain unaware. my ignorance is never blissful.

i must only let my agony die, as it has tried through mind, body and spirit on separate occasions. i let it drag itself through hell a thousand times that it might understand its own futility. my light, my heart, need not go with it. it may face the light of day while my ego dies slowly in the dead of night, this will save my soul. my daily cries of distress have not been ignored, but my truth remains untouched by the ravages of war in my nightmares. all those who seem to oppose me are only speaking truth i have not seen yet, and i may choose to suffer or i may learn. my ancient truth, passed through generations sits on the golden throne of consciousness, and does not change, but certainly can grow in strength through humility. i have nothing to fear but selfishness and destruction, which violate my honor and my family. the silken touch of my evil's tongue in my ear no longer hides the blooming war in its turn of phrase. words once soothing turn to ash in my mouth, but i need not cut out my tongue. if i wrap my heart in light, truth, i may be fulfilled and my righteous thought will never turn to the sword again. my evil will rot in the pit of decay it has dug during these long years, left to ravage itself with bloodthirsty anger and guilt until nothing remains but love. all i must do is trust my own light, for the light of the world was my first step, but can never be my last. i will learn to trust

[in]sanity | influence[s] // this is probably not a beginning. sense (n.) english: 1. how living beings gather information about the world 2. general conscious awareness 3. sound, practical judgement 4. meaning, reason or value of something 5. natural appreciation or ability 6. direction (math) from: sens [sense, reason, direction] (old french) sensus [sensation, feeling, meaning] (latin) *sinn [reason, judgement, way] (old frankish) *sinnaz [mind, meaning] (proto-germanic) where are the lines between what i think, what i feel, what i believe and what reality is? are there lines? is objective reality real or a useful fiction for my fear of my own creative power?

--i have this recurring dream where i continue to live my current life with my current outlook on things. the difference is, in this dream i have moments when i acknowledge that it is a dream, and my consciousness is shattered between the reality of my dream, which was reality, and my waking world. in the real world the entire past 9 months of my memories, thoughts and dreams are a pleasant alternative to the FACT that i currently lie crumpled on a hospital floor somewhere in phoenix, vomiting on myself and using the last of my strength trying pointlessly to delay certain death through fantasy. even the doctors have stopped approaching me because the beast i have left behind will always try to bite the hand that feeds. as i write this the memory of a having two perfectly legitimate and oppositional realities simultaneously being true, splinters my brain so violently i nearly believe it is not a dream. every time i write those words, ‘this isn’t a dream’, i can feel the hairs raise on my arms, the bile rise in my throat, and the soggy shame of my own human filth surrounding me. then it comes hard. at first it feels like i'm crying. i am. now i can feel my stomach start to come up, like i've been dry heaving for hours praying to a god i don’t believe in to make it stop. maybe i have. then fckn WHAM the vision splits, tearing and twisting broken mirrored shards of blurred realities, somehow keeping both completely intact and entirely separate. now my body shakes uncontrollably, as if my dying body is screaming for the dignity of at least dying with a soul intact.

i feel like these dreams are becoming more frequent, although it is equally probable that it’s a brief respite from delusion that is becoming more frequent. it is getting harder to tell if writing this right now is a cruel trick of my dreams, the indignant cowardice of my subconscious, or neither. can memories from dreams scar so deeply that i forget they take do not take root in reality? +++ the shocked looks of the emts as i took time out of my busy smoke break to hold the door open for them was entertaining. the look of raw, unbridled terror in the old woman’s eyes screamed that she was not ready to go but knew her time was up. as a young man, and still to this day, i have never been afraid to die. this wasn’t like the cavalier disregard for life that my punk, nihilist, junky friends had, i still held life in high regard. despite its best efforts, death had simply failed to deliver. so i seek to understand why i should be afraid. my suspicion and fear that it held no roots in what i considered rational thought was confirmed with every discourse on death i've heard or been part to, the fearful were crippled. death and it's avoidance was a major motivating factor in their decision making processes, but of those few that had even considered the roots of their fears, most came up with little besides ‘everyone fears death’, which by nature of my question is not a sufficient answer. simply because it is not true. i chose the opposite and was always afraid of life. i did not dream as a child and i hardly do now, that is not likely a coincidence. i had no capacity for projections into the future or really even into the imaginary. i was absorbing the words and sounds and images of respectable dead men, with a smile, so as not to attract attention to the fact that none of it meant anything to me. these words i now find so beautiful and dripping with wisdom fell on deaf ears only years, months, minutes ago. my real problem is that i need to *** WAKE UP *** i think i almost heard you tonight no way to know if its the first or last but right in the fold between thought and dream, i heard your sweet voice distorted through brass and silver splits different fragments of reality or fragments different realities the platinum tongue, caress my ear so strong i feel it now through shades of consciousness the tint in the sky feels like it was always there

waves of nauseous acknowledgement strip rusted tin from the walls of battered souls the rip tide approaches, but i'm prepared. at least ill be going somewhere +++ but why should i be fearful? the same missing piece of my awareness makes it as hard to understand the meaning in life as it is easy to understand the lack of meaning in death. the only thing that stood in my way was the immensity of the my problem. if i can get around the fact that the infinitely large universe is continuing to expand, most likely everything i treat as knowledge will be obsolete in a hundred years, if not days, and that objectivity is a joke (history is written by individuals...i have no objective, permanent truth, only individual lenses on events without context). if i can get around that, where do i start? do i pick apart causation? do i focus on why things are the way they are/were/could be/supposed to be/might have been/could be again? do i make decisions on the results of my actions? the results of actions and reactions? emotional influence and appeal? conscious and subconscious [ir]rational thoughts and beliefs? and this is not even really my Question. feeling Right or better than anyone else has been my only arrogant delusion. in a random, chaotic universe the only statistic that matters to me is 50-50, either the one in six billion viewpoint iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve adopted as Truth happens to be the human ideal/'close enough' or it holds me back from personal growth and progress. i cannot predict who's going to win the lottery, but one sure way to take myself out of having a chance is to never buy a ticket. many have laughed, but i am suggesting that i absolutely have the power to limit my possibilities. do i not also have the power to expand them?

--plane ride has got to be the worst ive ever felt. i ran out of xanax night before, desperately screeching agony in my mind until the stewardess brought the tequila i need. more. always. just bring the fckn barrel or the cactus or whatever the fck they make tequila in and leave it next to me. getting off that plane was the hardest thing ive ever had to do. this was an admission that i was Weak. i needed the people i had tried to get away from. all wasted angst. they had not grown to hate me as i hoped they would, but somehow grew to care more. that made it excruciating to lean on them when i cared so little about anything. guilt.

first days getting [off] xanax were brutal. i spent the whole time spinning lies about myself that i made no effort to maintain. one minute i would be convincing my parents that i was fine and the next i was cursing them for ignoring the obvious warning signs that deathâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s long finger was slowly wrapping around my throat. from what i remember i begged my psychiatrist in tears for drugs, immediately before i was pushing my knife against his adamâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s apple screaming that i did not give a fck. best friend since birth came once, she looked horrified when i frantically broke the neck off a frustratingly closed bottle of bacardi in central park. i had fallen much farther than i thought. i showed up to rehab in a black wifebeater with a give-a-fck woman covered in tattoos on the front. look at me strangers, come at me. it was significantly less badass when i was informed that tanktops were not allowed in the psych ward and i was to be sharing my room with a manchild that didnt know we were in the US circa 2012. his reality was that he might be a rock somewhere in the forests of southern California, or equally likely, did not exist at all. we watched the middle 40 minutes of Mrs. Doubtfire 35 times in a row because the woman with alzheimers who was watching it kept falling asleep and forgetting she watched it. the kid who finally stopped it screamed at the poor woman for 20 minutes telling her what a stupid cunt she was. made me smile. i went from the psych ward to the dry-out ward for the serious alcoholics because my attitude was too unmanageable for the general public, even in a rehab. why not prove them right then? so i talked the psychiatrist into giving me ativan and proceeded to tell anyone who would listen to go fck themselves with a rusty umbrella. apparently i took it too far when i threatened to kill my psychiatrist as i beat his face into his mahogany desk. i was shipped back to the psych ward, this time in restraints and under the soul numbing grip of a thorazine shot. the second time was less like being at the zoo and more like being in it. as i began to panic that i would never leave, everything lined up to confirm my fear. i can feel myself slipping backwards in time over the last several months... +++ tonight is the night. weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re going camping to commemorate and potentiate her first Trip. i was to be her lover, guide, and babysitter, she an eager student of life with an open mind. i handed her a Parachute, two xanax. if shit is somewhere between bad and unbearable, and you still know what pills are, or what you are, or that you are, this will bring you back in like 10 minutes. try and remember that. i am a boy-scout after all.

usually everything's good, but if it turns it can get rough. like ‘challenge/mock/destroy everything you know and believe about the universe’ rough. the cycles through time began, bringing past-present-future into a singularity that dissolved into everything. colors merged with thoughts, emotions, and whatever that part of our experience is that doesn’t have a word yet, making music in our hearts and merging our experience into one, then the infinite. small fire, held hands, deep emotional purges, walked for 7 hours or 4 days or 2 minutes. when sleep finally came, it was arm in arm and we were not alone. it was all there. a moment i was clearly undeserving of. i don't remember my last words to her were, but i like to imagine they were as charming as she made me feel.

--the following days were pale and blurred. bought a bottle of grey goose for my Heroine and her roommate, drove back to phoenix, hit another rave and met a young woman...the only reason i remember any of this is the girl hung around for long enough to tell me stories about it in my brief moments of consciousness. she was bad news a mile off but i have a taste for that. the snakebite piercings on her bottom lip coupled with the mischief in her eye was more than enough. hooked. she lived like 12 miles from my apartment on the 202 so i could get there in the time it took to smoke a cig. i found a different excuse to go every day, i played it like it was romantic but i think we both know it wasn't. she is incredibly sexy, but in the month or two since we met, we've become family. she's sick, i show up with soup and pot brownies. i'm sad, she insists we go camping. maybe that's what a healthy relationship looks like but it never came so easy. last night sealed the deal. i was promoting J and she was gogo-dancing at some lame 16+ venue near campus. easy. time to get paid. all the sudden the greasy old scumbags that brought some middle aged woman with them so drunk she couldnt sit in a chair (i later found out were the owners of the club) were trying to get my lady alone in the back room to pay her out. not even to a girl i don't like. i try to just stand in the doorway. the fattest approaches and says i have to move. no. ‘blah blah liability’. still not leaving. ‘get out im calling the cops’. fine.

as he turns around, so do i. i shove a bunch of glasses off the bar counter and kick a stool across the room. that brings two of them out real quick. no surprise the greasiest threat was still back there. everybody gets one. i grab a barstool like a two handed baseball bat and slam it through a plasma. that'll do it. oh yeah here he comes full of fckn righteous indignation and the unfounded confidence a leather jacket, a few rum and cokes, and the knowledge that your adversary is wearing rainbow bracelets can give a man. unfounded. when he got to me slouching in the doorframe and i stood up straight, a solid 8 inches/30 lbs/15 years of advantage, the best he can muster is a bitch poke to my chest. sharp with rage, cocaine and something primal, i grab his shoulders and throw him into the doorframe. think twice mthrfckr. ‘were calling the cops if you don't get off our property’. i believe that’s french for ‘i’m too big of a pussy to stand up for myself’, right? ill be waiting for you in the parking lot. pacing in the parking lot waiting with a look of forced concern for my girl but secretly praying that he was stupid enough. here she came, basically skipping, along with her little blondie friend. fckn America. sweetheart which car is his? ‘lexus’? wonderful. let me just grab a cinderblock and pop it through his windshield real quick. back at my place, finally. the e and coke had worn off hours earlier and the girls were getting nervous with the quality of rage i was maintaining off adrenaline alone. with sudden brilliance like sun through broken tree branches, the Princess exlaimed that it was 6am! so what? we can buy beer!! and on the seventh hour, they rested, and it was good. she still didn't put out, unlike blondie, but she got involved ...virgin? impossible. but she made it seem like there was something significant to it.

---

...doesn't that feel better? it echoed in my head as i sat bolt upright back in the hotel room, staring into the forgiving eyes of my violent, psychopathic former love...the same beautiful woman who smashed a bottle of jack on my face two weeks earlier was now patting it with a cold washcloth. weird. ...doesn't that feel better? how the fuck did we get here? the medical tent called me, she cooed, i guess i was still your emergency contact? you're super lucky too cuz i didn't have cell service until like 5 minutes before that! weird. do they really have like state to state emergency contact access? and at a tent? ...doesn't that feel better? feels like fckng despair. is she repeating herself or am i hearing things? or am i blacking out a lot? ...doesn't that feel better?

--i always knew i would die in the holy land, i just never imagined it would be so beautiful. the lights and pleasures were too much for me to handle, and when i lost my reflection i lost myself. my selfindulgent walk through heaven sent me through hell.

Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. My words echo Thus, in your mind.

But to what purpose Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves I do not know.

- t s elliot, 'burnt norton' when facing heaven alone with my thoughts and fears, i was quick to assume i was not worthy. self denial turned friendly faces into ravenous zombies and a helping hand into the heartless surgeonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s, about to attempt the first simultaneous lobotomy/heart-removal. what i didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t realize was the blood splattered all over their costumes was my own. // this might be.

joyce v descartes: JvD II ... this time, it's existential cast of characters (by appearance): j, J, d, D,

as as as as

the the the the

intentions/thoughts of james joyce actions of james joyce thoughts/intentions of renee descartes actions of renee descartes

costumes: j + d (voice offstage) J (b/W stripe shirt, grey tie, black eyepatch, white suspenders) D (clean white track suit, white t, white sneakers, long black hair and goatee) stage decoration: only white, small mattresses (also white) in each corner as well as two identical white boxes, as far away from a single stripe of black that runs from the center of the background to center of the floor. lighting: only the two spotlights in the back of the audience. play begins with spotlight turning onto only a, on the center of the catwalk, lex silent in the box, both J and D are lying silent on their respective mattresses. // // // // // // // // // // // // // // // // //

aside to director this is my thought experiment. i will take my two favorite philosophers and i will allow them to create a possible world together. because of their influences on my life, i hypothesize this will be the closest i may get to buiding my utopia, defined in this context as: 0.

1.

2.

3.

a place imaginary perfect impractical

(from greek ou* [not] and topos* [place]) (from modern latin utopia [nowhere])

entire stage goes completely dark. spotlight on joyce. he rolls over quickly staring right into the spotlights, looking directly past the audience.

j: what is that?

J: what is what? j: that light, where is it coming from?

J: i can’t tell…it’s too dark. j: turn the fckn light on then. joyce walks off stage. audience hears light switch. second spotlight comes on to descartes, sleeping, who jumps out of bed and stumbles onto the ground. he remains entirely unaware of joyce until his reaction to descartes' exclamation of 'WAKE UP'. d: what the fck was that?!

D: someone turned the light on, relax. d: who are you talking to?

D: you. d: what am i?

D: me. d: and who are you?

D: your thoughts. d: of course. so i must be the source of my thoughts.

D: did you turn the light on? d: if i'm the source, i must have.

D: this is definitely not the darkness i came from to be sure i should put on my eye patch and even things out. d: seems light a reasonable way to weigh light against dark.

D: let’s make a list of pros and cons, no? d: sounds very reasonable to me.

D: pro – if i turned the light on, i also must have put the dark behind me. d: con – if you are alone, how could there be two true experiences?

D: pro â&#x20AC;&#x201C; if i am not alone, there are only two possibilities. one, someone else is controlling the light switch, or two, i am deceiving myself into thinking there was ever a light. d: con â&#x20AC;&#x201C; what if your darkness was only a dream?

D: pro - if it was only a dream, then surely now that i have seen the light it will fade until it no longer matters or i sleep again. d: con - if you never sleep again, will it have ever mattered? descartes stops thoughtfully.

D: the only reasonable way to find out is to sleep again, no? d: sounds fair to me.

D: then i will go back to sleep. descartes lies down on his mattress, and tries to sleep. d: this isn't working.

D: why don't you smoke a pipe to relax for a minute. d: sounds like a good idea...

D: there's one in the box by your bed. d: yeah, but where's my lighter?

D: what's that shimmering glass over there? looks like a point from way over here. he heads toward the glass at such an angle that he doesn't notice his reflection, looking toward the edge. d: ahh, here it is. he picks up his lighter and lights his pipe. as he blows smoke into the air, he looks relaxed. joyce looks up into the sky. j: where there's smoke, there's fire.

J: i need to get some water! j: look in the box.

J: the box is empty!!

j: then look in the black strip. what do i look like to you, a psychic? joyce stares longingly into the strip for a short while.

J: there's definitely water here...but there's something else too. j: what does it look like?

J: me. j: i'm not sure...what do i look like?

J: since i came from light, i must look like light, no? j: sounds reasonable.

J: that doesn't explain these shadows. ...

D: all i need to do now is (screaming) ‘WAKE UP’ j: who’s there?!?

preface. when i got to first grade, i realized that 5-6 was not only possible, but common, i suspected the world was full of lies. when i saw the twin towers fall and heard the bloodthirsty cries of millions of christians, muslims and jews, i knew it was. what i never expected was that it was nobody's fault. the truth i have experienced in the past few weeks is that time and space are inherently within the same one dimensional context. since you are already reading this in the past it is largely irrelevant, but i see it as a good opportunity to learn something about my world. where my thoughts are cracked i will only be able to see in the light. i was only able to access this information through a past of laziness, crushed belief, failure, spiritual suicide, physical suicide, psychedelia, poor education, love, strength, mental clarity, physical reform, overcoming failure, growth and access to many opportunities around the world as well as an unfaltering belief in an obviously broken america. i suspect there might be an easier way, but i suppose i will never know. my goal is simply to help my world to become more truthful and beautiful.

ARTICLES OF INCORPORATION OF â&#x20AC;&#x153;a balanced manâ&#x20AC;?

I The name of this corporation is ___a balanced man___ II A. This organization is a nonprofit public benefit corporation and is not organized for the private gain of any person, rather for the collective gain of all people. It is organized under a large number of laws and institutions it had no input on, despite being an active member of society, and subsequently has as little interest in destroying them as preserving them.

B. C. The Specific purposes for which this corporation is organized include, but are not limited to: challenging assumptions, liberating minds, turning wine into water, provoking thought, diminishing fear, and encouraging individuality.

III The name and address in the State of Mind of this Corporation's initial agent for service of process is: Name Address

___[name here]____________________ ___[street: number, apt., suite]______ ___[city, state zip (#####)] ___

SPECIAL INSTRUCTIONS PERTAINING TO THE HANDLING OF LEGAL DOCUMENTS: Section III indicates to the Secretary of State and other interested parties that legal documents intended for this corporation should be incinerated and that the secretary of state should be minding his own business. Considering we do not have a physical presence whatsoever we refuse to accept responsibility or ownership for any physical byproducts of the extension of thought.

IV A. The corporation is organized and operated exclusively for charitable purposes but bares no relation to Section 501(c)(3) of the Internal Revenue Code, as it is arbitrary and meaningless to our purpose.

B. Notwithstanding any other provision of these Articles, the corporation shall carry on any other activities it deems necessary, despite, or encouraged by the fact that they are not permitted to be carried out (1) by a corporation exempt from federal income tax under Section 501 (c)(3) of the Internal Revenue Code or (2) by a corporation contributions to which are deductible under Section 170(c)(2) of said Code, or the corresponding provisions of any future statute of the United States, regardless of its efficacy it will be treated as equally useless until proven otherwise. As our service is free we accept no monetary or physical responsibility to the United States government.

C. Most substantial parts of the activities of this corporation will consist of meaningless propaganda or otherwise attempting to influence, thwart or destroy legislation; the other focus of the corporation will be to intervene in any political campaign (including the publishing and distribution of statements) on behalf or against of any candidate running for or holding any public office.

V The names and addresses and office held of the persons designated to act as the initial Board of Thinkers of this corporation are: Kurt Vonnegut, Tom Stoppard, R. W. Emerson, Friedrich Nietzsche, Jack White, Bradley Nowell, René Descartes, Sir Isaac Newton, Karl Marx, Søren Kierkergaard, Albert Einstein, Alan Turing, et. al.

VI A. The property of this Corporation is non-existent or completely proprietary, depending on how ‘ideas’ are treated in legal context, and either way will not be subject to the laws of any governing body that does not represent all of mankind.

Considering that society is merely a collection of individuals, we aspire for personal gain, but in doing so hope to achieve something greater for a peaceful society.

B. Upon the dissolution or winding up of the corporation, any assets remaining after payment of, or provision for payment of, all debts and liabilities shall be distributed to our children and our loved ones, and hopefully the Internal Revenue Services bureau will lose as much as they gain, our tax exempt status under Section 501(c)(3) of the Internal Revenue Code, is meaningless to us because what we have to gain trivializes the idea of debt/money/progress.

C. In the event of a liquidation of this corporation, we hereby give all permissions to the US government to pretend like we never existed, with a hope they will not abuse the privilege.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the undersigned, being the Incorporators of ___a balanced man___ and the initial directors named in these Articles of Incorporation on ___February 30, 611 B.C.___ INCORPORATORS/DIRECTORS SIGNATURES:

iii. i digress, the deep end writing on the wall the firebird watch tower parley with insanity first symbols bispectral infrared dissociation passazh v passazhe tabula rosa surprise, surprise. the walk through the hall of mirrors has revealed nothing but a shivering, sobbing lump of sub-human flesh screaming for its freedom. freedom from what? from the same simple daily tasks that face an army of peers? from itself? i may never know, it wont stop crying long enough for me to get a straight answer. the existential cries grow fainter with every passing second, losing the steam that only hours ago was screeching from every pore. it's become a minor annoyance, like a light hum somewhere far off in background, a memory of a memory. i just wish someone would give me a hug.

in the end mom always said that dad was a great man, strong as a warrior but with the heart of a poet. that he cared for her and for me as much as anyone could ask. she said he walked into the woods the day i was conceived and simply never made it home... why father? why have you forsaken me?

world too small for giant hearts the temper swells each breaking crest a drowning rush tested metal turned tempered steel by wicked flame then polish when long averted gaze turns reflection not expected emptiness but solid gold that meets our eye at times to bright to see trading gold for pounds of flesh surely its long been used up overeager to feed the ego since failure was always guaranteed that glint of hope all thats standing in the way of confirmation too many overlook the essence subtle in its purity hides behind practiced frost quick to melt behind closed doors when cracks are filled with recycled cracks synthetic shock covers secret delight with prophecy fulfilled but filled with light the shell, sighing, falls away at long last the wings can spread when dry the soul can soar. Freedom.

a brief correspondence with a real person

Alex: Similarly I don't know exactly what I'm getting at so I'll just write and see what happens.

I feel SO strongly about you and to be completely honest, it scares the shit out of me. I didn't think, and am still not sure that you can fall in love with someone so quickly. I get overwhelmed easily and struggle to know the difference between what is real and what is not.

I want so badly for this to be real, that I sometimes feel I am blindsiding myself. I honestly believe that you are simply 'too good to be true'.

I have never met anyone that makes me feel the way you do. I feel like all of the qualities that you listed as reasons for loving me are greatly enhanced merely by being in your presence. You make me feel smarter, stronger, funnier, and of course sexier. You bring the best out of me and I love you for it. As I've said before you challenge me intellectually and that is something no male has been able to do. You astonish me with your intelligence, I also struggle with the fact that I am fairly certain you are much smarter than me. I have never been involved with someone in this capacity before, and I don't know how to deal with it, I feel intimidated and vulnerable. This is like a whole new world to me, I am very used to being the mature, experienced and dominant one in the relationship; used to weak boys that I can manipulate and mold into my own creation. I know I couldn't manipulate or mold you even if I wanted to, but the glorious thing is, I have no urge to. You are absolutely perfect for me just the way you are.

I can't think of a single thing I would change about you. I love your attitude so much, you're such a BAMF, like nothing could ever break your spirit. I especially like that when you are in a bad mood, or just a general funk, you are always able to just pull yourself out of it and move on with your day. That is something I am very envious of, it is terribly difficult for me to get over things, but when I am with you I don't want to hold on to that bad mood and your jolly attitude always brings me out of a bad place. Every day I contemplate my escape route. Every day I think about how awful my life is, and all the ways I can make it better, I wake up every morning ready to puke from the stress. This past month I have only thrown up 2x (and once was from alcohol). Every time I think of running away I realize that I couldn't run without you. Having you in my life gives me the motivation to wake up in the morning, you instill in me the strength to persevere through all the bullshit that comes my way.

I don't think you understand how much I depend on you. I feel lost when I spend more than an hour away from you. I am literally obsessed with you. If you don't respond to my texts/calls or if I don't know where you are, I freak out and fear that you may be gone forever. I'm so afraid to lose you, and I know that if we keep up this charade that eventually I will. So badly I want to say Fuck my boyfriend and live happily ever after with you but I just can't face the uncertainty.

We've only known each other for a month and while we I've ever been with another person I still have this hesitancy to just jump in. I need to know more about commit to something so serious. I want to know every every deep dark secret, and I want you to know mine.

are closer than overwhelming you before I can little detail and

I want to know how that fucked up mind of yours works and I want to know the way you think.

I know you're incredibly unpredictable, but I need to be able to predict at least somewhat what your next move will be and that will only come with time. I know that this isn't really your style but I don't feel like I could date someone that I can't predict. I need stability, and I think that is something that my boyfriend has been able to provide me that you have not. I don't want to mislead you and make you think I want to be able to control, or even completely predict you. I love that you keep me on my toes and it's definitely crucial to a successful relationship. I get bored very easily in relationships, but I know that wouldn't happen with you. I enjoy being spontaneous with you so much, I also LOVE to keep you guessing and surprise you.

I love you so fucking much it's absurd.

Every single time you speak I melt, your words are golden. Everything you say pulls me in farther and farther. I love when you touch me, whether it's unintentional or not, graceful or forceful, no matter what the feel of your skin drives me wild. I get chills thinking about how riled up I get while we are kissing, it takes all my self-control not to let things get too out of control. You know exactly how to touch me in every setting and situation, gentle and comforting when i need you to be and aggressive when I want you to be. You know exactly how to turn me on, and I absolutely cannot wait until you actually have sex with me. I think about it all the time, and it drives me nuts because I know it will be amazing, if not the best I've ever had. I just know it.

I feel like no matter what I do or say you won't judge me. I love how confident you make me feel. I know I can be myself with you and it is so liberating and empowering! I am really tempted to write a list of things I love about you to rebuttal your list, but I have no idea where I'd start or finish. I love how we can have conversations with our eyes alone. I feel so incredibly bonded to you. I feel that if I were to lost you it would be the biggest regret I could possibly face.

If I can't stand an hour without you, how could I stand a lifetime? I know that I couldn't and that's why I am confident that one day I will be your wife! I think about marrying you and raising a family with you. I think that you would be a wonderful father and I know that you could and would instill the chivalry and class you've got into our children, and that is so important to me. That is another thing I love about you, you are so fucking classy! you know exactly how to treat a lady. In addition I know that you are a hopeless romantic and I

absolutely adore it. I love that you do cheesy/corny things for me. I also love that even though you don't show it you have impeccable style. When you look good you know it and the confidence radiates off you. I would love to see you in a tux! My favorite is that even though you are capable of successfully pulling off the pretentious little rich boy lifestyle, you don't. You're a rugged mountain man who loves to get down and dirty! It's so manly and it's phenomenal. It's so amazing to me that you are able to so fully fulfill both lifestyles, and further more to be great at both.

You're just such a classy sexy MAN as I am writing this I realize that there are an infinite amount of reasons I should be dating you. In fact it's hard for me to think of any reasons to not be dating you. I suppose when it comes down to it I know we are compatible, I know we would have a great relationship, and I know we could live happily ever after, but I think I'm just not ready. We fell so deeply into our whirlwind of emotions that we didn't take the time to look at and learn the small details, I realize that I don't know things about you that I definitely should. I don't know much about your past either.

It's important at least for me that we know about each other's pasts.

There are definitely things about me that are so important for you to know, but I just don't know how to tell you and sometimes I wonder if I ever will, I feel the same is true for you. I think once I am more informed about your past, I will have a better understanding of who you are and what makes you tick, and I will be more comfortable dating you. I don't like change otherwise I would be happy to give up what I've got to be your girlfriend. I want so badly to make that list of all the small things about you that make me love you, but I feel that you know I love you, what you don't know is why I am not your girlfriend. I guess that is the point of writing this, maybe not even for you, but for me to realize that I am making the right calls here.

That though it seems crazy and heart wrenching there most definitely IS a reason that we aren't dating. I'm still working on pinpointing the problem and coming up with a game plan as to how to fix the problem and I think I'm off to a good start.

Thank you for bringing me flowers daily. It means more to me than you could possibly imagine. Thank you for being patient I know that I am putting you through hell, and I am so thankful that you are strong enough to withstand it, I know it's hard. I hope you know that no moment goes unappreciated and no kind deed goes unnoticed. You are working your way deeper and deeper into my heard and mind with every passing action and day. I have no honest idea how long it will take me to feel comfortable enough to take this leap. My only wish is that you are waiting for me when I am ready. I know someday I'll be ready and I know someday you'll be the only one...Je t'adore. forever yours, the mistress <3 "fire cat"

another outpouring on paper for you, somehow picturing you reading this when you are alone with only your thoughts give me a feeling of such deep understanding between us. this involves a level of attention and raw honesty that very few spoken interactions have, and it is with this feeling that I can shakily bare my soul to you and know you will take it simply for what it is. i actually knew what it was today to feel like a piece of my heart was missing because it so completely belonged to another person. it is with almost no hesitation that i share with you that i don't often feel human, i just don't allow myself to really feel things because rationalizations can leave you with a really cold, but very predictable world. but i long desperately to really experience those things, and you are the first person to allow me to feel on such a complete and fulfilled level. i guess what i really want you to know is that my outbursts are only in response to things i see causing you distress in your life, i may be ill equipped but i assure you with every fiber of my being that everything i do is inspired by the love i feel for you and an overwhelming desire NOT EVEN A DESIRE it's more on the level of an animal need to hold on to this amazing thing i've found. i don't want you to walk another step without realizing how much i love you, because you have made my life so much more beautiful than i ever could have imagined. as i look back over this i apologize for my handwriting as this was an absurdly cathartic experience for me and i really lost control for a few moments, and i hope you appreciate the straight arrow from my my sould to the ears of your heart. you make me wish i had more to give. <3

Alex, as per usual I have no idea where I am going with this, but here goes.

Who knew this book would stand the test of time. We have been through hell & back together and are in an interesting place. To be honest, there was a time not too long ago that I wasn't sure that you would be OK. I couldn't have been more wrong. After hearing your voice today, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are better than OK you have managed to transform yourself back into the passionate man I once knew. I can't imagine my life without you. I feel like the book you are writing will bring us together for all of eternity. Our story is one for the history books & we will be forever remembered and immortalized. I can vividly imagine some young tortured soul reading your story and gaining the courage to change the world. You have changed the world and me in more ways than you can possibly imagine.

Although the majority of our relationship was spent in turmoil, I wouldn't trade our time together for anything in the world.

You enabled me to tap into a part of my soul that I didn't know existed. From the moment I tapped into it, I never stopped exploring myself. I don't think, actually I know I wouldn't have been able to achieve the things I have without you. you showed and shared a world with me that I could never leave. It is a world filled with love, passion and vigor that most are not lucky enough to experience. There was a lot of time that passed in which the thought of you saddened and angered me, I felt like I worked so hard for so long for nothing. I realized somewhere along the way that all my hard work paid off. Both of us are stronger and smarter because of what we went through together. I am so grateful that you are still in my life. I was fearful that not being together romantically would end out communication, but it hasn't.

I think when we met we were immature lustful youths, and now we have both become mature productive members of society, and I don't think that would have happened without each other. You fill a hole in my soul that no one else ever will. There are things about me that only you can understand, and because of that you will always be a permanent part of my life. You support me in ways that I didn't even know I needed. I told you today that my memory of you is that of a man filled with angst, and after today, that is no longer true. You have revived the beautiful image of yourself that I fought for so long to get back.

Your light shines bright, and our future even brighter. You have illuminated my life & I can only hope that I have done the same for you. I am incredibly lucky to have been graced with your presence in my life.

I am interested to see what the future holds for us. I am positive that we are both on the right bath. Although our paths are currently moving in quite different directions. Surely, inevitably, they will cross again, and again in the future. I couldn't keep you out of my life, mind and heart even if I tried. I wish I had more words to explain to you just how huge of an impact you had on my life, but alas

I am not the literary genius that you are. However, I feel that the messages we have sent each other without words are the strongest & truest there have ever been. There are endless memories and feelings that I could babble on about in this book, but instead I am consciously choosing not to fill the pages of this book. Our story isn't over...

I love you now just as I loved you always. Je t'adore.

Always, the woman ps. I think we may have missed our chance at existential suicide

i have written this entire book for the most beautiful and impossible woman in the world, though i will probably never see her again. by asking me to become predictably unpredictable, and demanding to see inside my dark and twisted mind, she brought me to see things i had never taken the time to learn about myself. our fleeting few years together were the most important of my short life. i would not trade them for anything. she is, and always will be, my best friend.