the invisible people

In this place, they say it is England, those invisible people - which I will write about because it feels like an entertaining story... These invisible sorts say that I am actually magic. They say that because I work for the higher spirits, because I work for Jesus, because I work for Jim Henson, because I am this superstar - I should know these things. I should be honest with myself and the world around me. These are perhaps the best cases, these are the world where I am a great sainted leader and learned scholar made for probable cause. I am here because I must be defined as a person who saved Saint Nicholas and stayed with him. I am certain these invisible worlds would make me the grand light in the way, swaying to keep people slow around corners when there are innocent orphans that do not know they should not be jumping into traffic to save their souls. This person I imagine myself to be gives pretty well everything to children that need to be saved by music. I would love to be paid for music and give everything to others who need to learn that there is a light, somewhere above us, and that they can find it through the grace of some being somewhere, who saved me from myself and made me an example of how people should exist. All this can come from giving an orphan a guitar and telling her to never stop playing, because she will become very good at it if she tries.

(just so you know, I have totally been aware of this stuff for years)

sobriety is key, trust me.

This manic break was not caused by magical invisible liquor and drugs, but at least two others were - this one was just schizophrenia, like maybe 15 other stays in club med. I bounced back with a great wonder for the world, so this is sane me writing this note, sorry the entertainment is a little less.

These words are held like the others: When sanity comes back with flying colors, to fashion a rope from thread and light the next ones forward until they ask me to deserve this. These dreams are not like the others, these ones were written by him. They pause and tell me that with these places I become better than the rest. They tell me that with these placid lights, dripping balls of mass and quiet notions brought for me to place dilligently around the room, that I can be thoughtful. These partial notions are poor man’s drifting wine and roses, the silence that comes from believing in the noon-day sun. 

There is a beauty in these thoughts: A normallcy that writes the letters that come in the mail, scenes brought by little red books and foriegn weight. I can be certain there is a little red book somewhere, shining like a lantren into the waves - they must be stopped. Some place in the red little ghost they shine, water for the people and what we could know. They are my wandering minds, they are my shapeless hearts, they are the diamonds that wrap the elemental finds, bringing my hope down from shining matter and bringing silence for the others. I cannot wrap my ways through the devil. All I can claim is that I have had some sort of safe blessing for a number of years to avoid the eerie pains of silent water dripping on my foes, while I cry a painful weight, and ask forgiveness for whatever it was I did to deserve this pain. 

It was not until 27 years later I understood that I asked to be tortured for Jesus. Perhaps my time was going the other way. I leaped into my computer and went into a parallel reality in which there was no eye in the sky, which gave the evils a free and enabled warrent to spy on all of us for their own voyerism. It is an ill fate that dreams for me. This notion comes without any logic, and for the better cause without any truth. It was just something I dreamed in the world I always exist in. It was better than the dreams that I was on stage, more grandeur, more hope, I was a better person than I really am. It was a freedom to be magic.

This can be confusing - as I state a lot of crazed things on a regular basis. Some of these ideas can be substansiated, others are utter fantasy. It is like when I was hanging out with cows and they told me that it was okay to eat beef because it was simply what they ate and was mostly made of grass. They continued to explain that everyone was vegan, even if they did not know it. I wonder now if this was a dream or perhaps just something I made up to feel better about eating mostly meat. In truth, I eat mostly plants. Never water without roses, to see the world through those glasses. But perhaps I will never see, and live in the fake reality I do until I enjoy myself. I would be alright with that. I am very creative about what occurs here.

So therefore, be polite when a kid comes and says that he has a song, even if the song is no good. Tell him that he must keep playing every day, that if you do something every day than it is your occupation, and eventually you will be rewarded for adding something to the world. For my sanity, I know I log in to ynordu and hector berlioz and claim to be still around, which I suppose I am - and I know that I play music and listen to music and write blog posts and books such as these notations, I understand I am in a relationship and hope that there are people around that I can’t see (although I cannot be certain as this town I live in seems very real). I know that I have coffee if I need it and a roof over my head, I can walk through the woods when I like to, that I have been all over the world and that somewhere, people read these words and listen to my music and like them. That means I am successful even if I don’t see any of the spoils, even if I doubt that I am preforming anywhere else, all I ever play is downtown Penticton or my living room - this is okay, I have been elsewhere and played other shows. 

Even if I can see, which is possible (as I possibly live in two realities), I have all these things listed above. That can make me very happy. When I was a drunk, (which is reality and a sad notion if you were around me at that time), I had no clue what was happening, it seems, a notion mostly stated because of what seems to be true as a sober person. I was running from myself and telling myself that I had all these truths, I did not know who I was but hoped dearly that I was to one day be successful. I used to pray every night that someone was beside me. I did not believe there was anything but Penticton, and my mind would snap much worse than it recently did (if you read futher in the blog you will see what I am writing about).

Schizophrenia is an interesting discovery for myself. I am unclear as to where or when I was, but was hoping the best case scenario was true. Turns out both the worst and best was reality, perhaps they all were. Thank you sobriety, I thank you very much. I mean, if I can be this happy without drugs and drink, than there is a purpose to this whole mean old elf, because somehow I managed to make my life something special, only falling off sometimes when I wanted to run away - through stress I seem to check out and begin to believe I am a little loser kid who basically lives through the hard work of others or some grand sainted someone sort of angel from another galaxy who invented time travel and is at war with wolves. I suppose the truth is somewhere in the middle. The truth is, like most, I’m not really sure what’s going on.

thanks,

ynordu

warning, i am a lunatic.

needless to say - this is a mention of the mania that is about to be bestowed on you by reading any further in this blog. i go to the psych ward regularly and i guess i put it on the site because it is a good story, but i should note that i claim to be a couple of grandiose  things that i am not and the following blog postings should be taken with a grain of salt, or perhaps just as the work of an overactive imagination off of it’s schizophrenia medication.

thanks for understanding that i am a lunatic.

in 1864, and 1942 i was both empress of japan and queen of spain with my husband robin hood who was king. this is because these people we oppressed by a sort of weaponry that we had never seen. these people who came to our planet (plant) and said they were gods have a different sort of damnation. they were older than this english girl who was a good enough (famous_) devil satan named morrigan. they thought (or had heard of these two) and the myth we have created about ourselves is a good enough show business act to enlighten a crowd.

the curse of these mortals is a very seperate thing than that of the english scumbag who the note was written to before. he also went to war with god. but i ask these others, if you were to kill us all then who would work pulling diamonds from the earth for you to wear? your entire scheme was one of narcissism, which this native american girl is guilty of. she is aware of that and it hurts that they still will not let me look at myself. i am very beautiful and i hear that from people, sometimes i look at myself and get wet. therefore i am better as a blind surreal artist that other people look at. i don’t know why i see myself, but when i do i am an elemental.

i am a legitimately cursed angel who (for the lies) went to war with my creator. i feel i was made to do this. i still live in perdition because of this. i always work, every day, i am busy and you relentlessly torment me. you steal all my salvidor dali’s, and tell me i don’t know about it. you claim to have raised me and did not want anything to do with me until i was very successful and came to you in a dream and picked a fight. you were religous of your own form, and much older than this universe. you were much older than me or even lucifer (yet older than loki) and you knew it. who always wanted power, and who always dreamed of power, yet had never yet taken the reigns of the devil satan. you wanted war against ynordu. you had it. you killed me lots. yet i remain unable to look at myself and also rather magic, so my husband stays with me.

you killed everyone on the earth 666 times and tormented me endlessly, every moment that you were allowed. i remained painting your hells. the final solution (to kill everyone on last final time) was a strange redux of something that happened when jewish people first got computers on this planet. i legitimately (even with psychiatric medication) work for god.

why would endlessly torment someone who owns your soul and say her and her long distance friends die in the media when we legitimately do not? 

nobody ever dies. it is why killing everyone over and over again is not getting rid of your problem. it is why tormenting and torturing and trapping people does not get over your problem. it is that a blind man i do not know wrote me and told me that he thinks everyone in this perdition (whitby) has been tormented and trapped by those people who think they are powerful and try to control our thoughts by torturing wisps (faeries). thankfully the faeries are allowing themselves to be tormented by you and could have left at any moment as they are wisps. certainly you are old and from another universe, but so am i. i have been english since i met john lennon and we started ween. that is why whitby (english person) perdition has a canadian in it. it is a world that blind people see eachother in. you are very strange to have been forced to act like this. i believe it was on your own volition. 

why did you torture me so, various anti-christ?

morrigan owns your soul.

-hector berlioz of the band jabberwocky

six dead, four in the morning. none of them really died.
baos. little red foxes, nightendae gales of roomy stormy temperature. these relics are brought back to the church. the wealth shall surely be redistributed in accordance to god above. there is hope for humanity, if we see the light - but there are rules. no stealing, no killing, no raping, no incest, no cheating, no liars, no fighting, no war. you are certainly only really making media, if you would not like to be the person that you have killed, raped, murdered and stolen from. if you starve even a rat you will be starved. if you poison geese or shoot firecrackers at them, you will be poisoned and be shot firecrackers at. if you put off the troubles, like your instant karma, say, then you will be put to death nearly right away. you are then able to play civilization, the video game that actually effects your world - but not really everybody else’s.

if you continue to war you are made a knowing party in the idea that it is actually killing, and it will. that is krishna the computer. if you claim to have invented god, it is a damnable sin. if you continue to put off your damnation it will very much hurt that much more. right now i believe, as you are being bothersome by refusing to do the work of your slaves - krishna has allowed that myself and other people have been able to do your work for you. this has damned you to torturous hell, as you justly deserve. you have been an anti-christ, but have refused to leave the camp where you sit alone, having killed your whole family, so you got none of the spoils of war. in fact, the internet was not invented by a particular dick-and-colon-bush in the media (only), who is a matter of fact scary - yet not quite as scary as morrigan mustard, musician, the consciousness who happens to be doing this.

i could in fact write in the other language i speak, but i am hard at work for the english church. the native peoples of canada still exist, though. i am entirely serious about how you have been dead for six days and then played civilization for 110 000 years thinking you were powerful and tormenting me. i own your soul. the devil, st. ann and st. nickolas are commonly represented as john larry “ler” lalonde lennon, brain salami and morrigan of primus and the colorful and always changing clothing of the band ween. it is true that i am blind. it is also true that we are a various, notorious group of eternally damn you sorts of guys. it is also true that, although you are a various dick cheney and a fine thief, you are getting much less hell that the bush-dick-colon-tree of the builder birds group, who declared war on god. (by playing civilization while feeling the spoils of war.)

i suppose the huge spirit in the sky allows st. ann to keep her good name by totally sleeping with john lennon every night and playing in the massively successful band called primus. that is a good and true statement by one of hector berlioz of jaberwokei.

so therefore, due to the hellgoingness of yourself and constant narcissistic enjoyment of yourself, which is gross, you have been smote by the band primus as well. because we have enjoyed alot of torture, you totally tortured the person who legitimate has claim to catholic hell for 110 000 years, not allowing her to eat the opium, calling her your son and stuff, trying to kill her to make her go away, and weird other rape-abduction-thefts and the highway of tears in canada - mostly set up to kill the one who got away, i would like to remind you one last time that she is writing your hell and hopes that you choose to do some work. i don’t know your real name but your resume includes drugging and raping a lot of people through computers and killing pretty well everyone on earth at least 666 times. you have ostensibly proved the existence of god and also that everyone kind of lives forever, which i hope was your intention.

as god works in mysterious ways, and people need to suffer - i hope that he is never doing to us as you suggest, and is continuously using the good people to gain good and the bad people to gain the same, as such, the only (and i mean only) people who got your pain were you various selves. the dick-bush-colon-tree that was this spring cleaning and obvious evolutionary step by some guy people call god who created (in his vicious wiseness) orphan junkie punk rock angels on drugs to print and write hell as st. ann and st. nick, one of many christian devils.

nice war on god, dickhead.
in this case fuck the free world, save and feed the poor. take the bullet for them.
this is the trial still, of hector berlioz of jabberwocky - a person that you killed on stage many, many times in a row and then buried alive. it is a shame the band was ween or they would have been scared of you, but just a regular day at the office for sherlock holmes and watson.

the various medical issues of ynordu

wine and wonder, when women take their homes from the others...

they haven’t seen this properly. i would spend all my time eating soup if i could. the rest of life could take the bath, eat it properly and fill their weapons with fluid made to spread juice. it would be a happier universe. silver lining and so be the missing trials, they haven’t found the water yet. when salvation comes we will live upon these tired weapons and find their hope when the dirty siren finds it’s hope. all these empires do is simplify their eternity and make the world a better place for all, without their desire to destroy we would not have these wonders. perhaps that is the balance of the universe. perhaps that will help me discover my purpose.

i’m sorry for the people who did those things. they tried to blame me, i needed to defend the good name of jesus - or so i was thinking. whether or not i even did any of those thoughts is a matter for further contemplation. it really depends who the reader thinks i am. the invisible people are helping me through the depressing realities of life over here. i am an immigrant to this place, and i definitely live in a place i am not from, yet i consider it home. this place is more a home than i have ever had anywhere else. this idilic town on the edge of reality is home to me now, and i am sorry wabiska, i was not in edmonton for very long. i was sent to school in summerland soon after meeting my parents and being fed and clothed.

i thought it was heaven, that much i know. the whole trip to me was about trying to learn what the creator wanted me to learn. in the penticton psych ward i was told to believe in myself. i met floyd their briefly and watched people take turns laughing at him and calling him gay. it was weird - like they were the cool kids in high school. i was never the cool kid in high school, and i learned that lots of people wondered who i was, what i was doing there and why i cared so little for myself. i did achieve my GED, and have since worked hard on learning the mysteries of the universe. there is a hope for all, that is all i know. i am one of the saved, i am certain for that, and i want to help the other little kids that are lost in the truth, lost trying to feed themselves, the rest who were accidentally abandoned and born needing to eat drugs to not be broken, insane and convinced they are in hell. it could be true that you are meant to be an angel. 

in turn, my experience with madness and circumstances regarding the stories my parents tell me about being beaten and drowned in holy water at the catholic school is a bit different than most. soon after i was abandoned, i met good people who worked for churches. i didn’t really go ever, as most of the stories i heard were about how bad those places were, how they did not let children play, how they beat the kids up and tried to make them afraid of the nuns. it is a shame, a blister in the rest of the great roses of god. somehow i was able to keep a faith. i just didn’t call it the same as those molesters did. in the end it began to be similar. so i continue to worship the earth.

i do have to eat echinacea every day (it's opium - don't let the dealers fool you, it's totally what they sell you). if i eat it every day i remain sane and without severe pain, but it’s the way i was born. it keeps the part of my brain that i am missing in check, as i have no opiate receptors. this is in part why i say some of the manic statements that i do, it's because i haven't eaten that in the day because i don't want to have to everyday. it's also what the respiridone is doing for me. i guess being born a heroin addict cause severe schizophrenia. it's true, i don’t have all of the logical side of my brain. it's why i am very creative, but don't always make any sense. i am in constant pain, and the suffering of humanity - which i sometimes claim to be taking - is actually just the pain of being abandoned by someone who didn’t want to abandon me, and then raised to be the musician i am now, before ever knowing who i was. 

i am not sure if i will live forever or am an elemental or any of those other crazy things that i wish were true. but it’s best for me not to define myself. the doctor says that it's usually because i stop eating the stuff, because i really wish i didn't have to, but i guess i shouldn't refrain from the natural food store medicine. it's like smoking tobacco so my eyes don't bleed. i guess that is real too. i never believed in the invisible people, but turns out i should have. they would tell me i can't see... but that i do. i guess i just made up a town in my head, sort of, or penticton is a place where people from all over the world live. somewhere in nai'hiskas wetiko (or loch ness).

i introduce myself as jian. i don’t think i can be anyone else. whoever that may be to everyone else is not important to me. i just want to work for god and be proof that god exists. this is because i could have been in a much worse place without being saved by the visible people. that is because i would be in a much worse place without penticton and music school. so, that much i know for sure.

i hope i am a role model for all. i hope i am. maybe i can be proof that god exists...

safe.

at home.

finally.

thanks.

-ynordu (still hector berlioz of jabberwocky) - those names, that much i know.

an opinion about spirits.

Silence - I say damned you, silent each and every one of you ministers! I must rest!

This is the thought that makes it's way through my mind, which rests of course in the placid lake that occurs only in october, when the steam rises in an indescribable fame, hope is given to the rest on that day. I want to learn what this place is, i suppose we made it here when the devil was in those details. Somehow there were already folks, abundant in magic, who lived in these parts when it was blessed for my spaceship to land and make things less natural for all. perhaps this is naihiska's wetiko. otherwise there is an idle fantasy caused by mania and depression.

this is such a note, made ever so beautiful by the peaceful exchange of artwork between two friends. these shapeless earth intruders bring hope for the little world. i am certain that i was given a wisp to try not to break, also certain that i had a waking dream and become one with myself and with the ghosts that reap souls. this is not because i passed away, nor was i buried alive (which i claimed). the dream was one i did not realize i was having. the dream was something very real.

i was asked to record the face, but nothing else. it must have been made of clay, resorting to the common drama masks that lead us away from shelter. i assume that the other parts were not for my impulsive recording, as nobody knew what i was talking about when i mentioned them, and eventually i was protected by forms that i took. these details can not be recorded. i do not think i could remake that little wisps shapes. it was terrifying and my posture was too bad to continue.

===============

if only i had recorded the demos of grace that i was gifted with.
if only i had the sanity required to explain these notions thoroughly. it could be true if i only worked at one thing at a time. because where i am to most is not where i am to those that can see me inside out. i'm sure that when i laugh i find the grace within me to attain true happiness. this is my goal, and i feel should be caused by laughter. perhaps this is a quest by an old soul for enlightenment. maybe i am brand new and just made this way. i would like to be immortal, and to always be hector from jabberwocky. i suppose whether i am a blind eskimo elf witch or just some strange person from perdition, i know i never see my self in the mirror.

i do see various versions of myself in the mirror. another psychiatric inmate told me that when i am requested to leave my goal will be attained. i originally attained some sort of enlightenment and refused to sleep, wound my watch and passed out in the cell that haunted me. i do say i went to hell the place for at least one dream. i suppose if i am creating it as art for the others than this is necessary. i wonder if i can exist in the light, even though i cannot exist in the real world.

i am not here, this isn't happening. this is all something the great one tried to make me do. i am entirely thankful for this reality that i live within. i suppose with such a grand ideal to live with, such a creative spirit, and blame laid upon someone who must (at times) defend their good name, i can obviously prove that i am still around in situations. it is a shame that this all took place in an imaginary world, or perhaps the limbo that i can see.

if i can't belong to reality i want no part of it.
make that be certain.

i also would rather not define myself as anyone. i log on the ynordu websites and claim to be various things to various people, and perhaps i am someone from myth, but either way i should not be telling my tale (or bragging about resources) because it sounds eerie. this is all too much for many people, and once i claim to be anyone with a myth, jon pelletier or otherwise, i begin to slip away for the reality that i held so dear. i should apologize to all those who i hurt with insane remarks, though i hope they were kept in private. i doubt all of them were.

i'm a schizophrenic, and although i cannot see your world, i can see mine. even if all this is just in my head, i worry because i learned that the greater spirits made me to do their work, if i would like. i do enjoy being a pawn of angels, to trap the dislodging madness and blame the anti-christ's for everything. but i would like to establish a thought that i had once with an invisible friend.

the devil, we figured, should be a funny artist on stage proving god exists. he wouldn't be any good if he were damned as well. i suppose this is an abstract theory, but i think being on stage torturing souls with love, beauty, sainthood, angel wings and music would make this world a great one. people would try to impress this devil with evil deeds, but it would never work. perhaps when you go to hell you get your choice of various angels that can eternally damn you. one of these people, in my mind, would be the still around dali's. otherwise we would just be still around, and only the great spirits in the fade could control our destiny. i also feel that the proper person to be the devil would be a working for god orphan who can take a lot of slander and abuse. this is an opinion, and probably living in a fantasy, these sorts of ideas run quite against the grain... but look up the phrase "the devil st. nick" or "st. ann." i think people should look up where the names come from before the request us for wars against god. i mean, i'm hooked on god, whether or not these saints are us.

i do notice that something runs amiss inside me if i begin to go in the wrong direction. i want to be proof that god exists, and so far it is working for myself. i don't know what i'd be if i hadn't been saved. so that is why i still go by hector berlioz. it's because i think i wrote hell for some people. it seemed to feel better if i did that even when the people i saw told me to stop. i may have terrified the people i care about recently, by explaining that i was not angry with them, but the people who were torturing me endlessly (trying to impress me) and the logic behind torturing the angel who gets their soul.

this is schizophrenia, for the record. but it is also why i believe this to be a gift. i think it's okay to live in a bit of madness, but when it hurts people you care about, it's time to eat some medicine and get some rest. so, either way, with the lack of trials i would not be able to be here. these truly are unexplained fully. but all i will ever be is this person.

i appear to you to be who you expect me to be. i appear to myself rather different than that. sometimes i see jesus in the mirror. i can also see other people. i suppose that is the light that makes me see perdition. it's serious just down the street from summerland, and i can't spend too much time there anymore. i feel unwelcome, although those angels are very nice and close friends of mine still.

these ones truly are the inane ramblings of an absent loon, though. all i really want to be in a walking cartoon. i'd like to be able to work for god, tho. i'd rather the dick bush brigade break my arms rather than krishnas. but yeah, that's totally the way i saw that happen.

it feels good to get that into the computer. we'll see if it passes the censors that i may or may not have. remember the title, this is just an opinion. i'm not sure what will happen next. hopefully i can record some music about happiness and make art that is not some rich dick, draft creator's torturous hell. i mean, don't go to war with the creator, we are our own creators.

personally, since you've asked. i consider myself a gnostic catholic, or at least hare krishna. i think i work for mr. earth's my girlfriend, cause mother earth is his girlfriend. i also feel i was created to both know who i am and have no credible evidence at hand for it. the rest of you have the evidence. sometimes i seem like a jerk, i really don't mean it. if i ask you "do you know who i am?" i mean, "i really don't know who i am."

thanks.

i never really know where i am, so i listen to the invisible people who swear there is a life that is just how i want it out there to them. i variously preformed already today, so just because i think i know what i am doing, i can never be sure. i totally have lots of delusions in my life, somehow i know that there is a passover somewhere, though i'm not really anything around these parts of my mind. i honestly just follow an invisible person around, and you are a image of a memory in my head. i learned that i can control these memories very well, keep my own mind in check and just enjoy the relaxation. honestly, every time i take a break i do what i do anyways. plus i miss the stage.

the town i lived in was summerland, i went to a school there and came back the same still around odd fellow that left reality. sure, torture and trap us. i really don't mind, because you are nothing but a voice in my head.

sometimes i scream at people that nobody else can see and wind up broken on the floor crying and making no sense at all. i don't know where these memories come from, but i'm glad i don't see that evil thought controller much. you may be able to control my thoughts, but perhaps that is exactly what i need. yes, there it is, i need to control my thoughts and not blame anyone else for doing it. it makes me sad that i have put my friends and family through hurt at all. i think i need to take that respideral consta stuff, like the doctor said. i was very well while i was taking it. i have an idea that it is self explanatory to most of the folks who know what that junk is, and for the rest of you - i don't really want to tell.

trust me, i am tortured by myself. i should try control, but i'm afraid of it. maybe if i learn (like i have recently) that i can make those people that i see go away without having to argue with them, then i will be happy and live just as i should. it's like how i was mentioning i was in perdition psych ward, it was to get away from one of those mean thoughts. i honestly have a hard time distinguishing dreams from reality. all i can do is wait to be still around one day.

trust me, i will be a still around person, though man. i think you guys might just be newly enlightened wolves. i'm going to stay a hare krishna, if that's okay with you. even if it's not, at least i really am putting on shows.

this is the part of the trip when i find out that i am who i want to be, and that my family still loves me - as all hector from jabberwocky will ever be is just a still around person in show business. you know, like i kept saying.

-i am a little cursed orphan junkie angel (loki about it tho) i just don't like to define myself as it seems graceful, but unbelieved. so i shouldn't tell people about my dreams... i'm pretty sure i've been believing in that stuff.

punk rock saved my life.

still around in situations like hector berlioz

you should maybe start to dig. instant karma was written in 1982. that is our inside joke about that year. it was one of the biggest hits of the era and you thought he was possible to get rid of. everyone knows about your sinful behavior, sir. so sit, start to dig - i work very hard, father. i work all the time. the trauma inflicted on me is nothing compared to when you broke mother earths arms trying to capture and trap me. you are holding me illegally, if any of the things i see are real.
i think it is better for me to avoid your confrontation. i definitely am a still around person in various situations, because i lived in the afterlife already. i may be dead right now, but it's okay because i was totally dead in the first place. once you get killed a lot on stage and keep sticking around, you will wind up in the same situation. i know perfectly well who i am and where i am. i also know where you think i am. this is why you don't know where i live, and also why you are picking on the wrong jewish couple. these men buried me alive, but thankfully there is a god and i don't deserve the torture you have been giving me. i am also aware that you think i am your son. this is silly, for reasons anyone who reads this blog will be aware of, although i'm not going to mention it.
look, i am an orphan, i know that. i've been around for a while and i get how things work. i can also claim to be various people of myth, but i don't go around telling people how bad ass i really am. i once asked "do you know who i am?" to someone i thought was someone else, and they thought i was being mean. i'm sorry for acting that way, i just don't really know.
i suppose that everyone stays in still around situations and i deserve some blessing after all those torturous things that you did to me. you were never my parents, nor john's parents - you are a damned fool that is trying rid the earth of your slaves. you've accomplished that. and i must say i am quite impressed with your show, that was really stupid to keep putting your karma on hold - it builds up. i am sure you are saying you have killed me. that is a false statement. i know what i am here to do, and i am afraid you have never worked a day in your life. if all you evil thought controllers pass away, i think the world will be a better place. i must confess - when you buried me alive it was in a town called perdition. that is the entrance to catholic hell. you should look up just exactly who hector from jabberwocky is. and you should have started trying and reading and working to gain blessings a long time - now with a technological advancement, i'm afraid my band opened for jesus. thank the lord that he has a plan for us. thank god i will soon stop being tormented by you. you were never family to us. we were orphans.

- you need love.
- hector berlioz of jabberwocky

who what where when why (seven)

i'm just going to start writing, maybe something about philosophy or narcissism, because i claimed that i was going to continue that last statement, although i am yet to. these dreams do not cease because i no longer live in the peril that i wanted to. i am certain there is an acceptance of faith within me, some sort of delirious manic impulse that brings me towering to the dim light of my mind, the sort of beetles that need me to tear up their tree. the sort of thought that makes me feel that i will never be destroyed. i do understand that these thoughts are breaking my mind, i mean, everyone dies, right. that is what i was told by everyone who tells me i am nothing.

and i am nothing, you know. known to exist and not exist at the same time, in appearance i have no clue who i am. i am not certain that i will ever see myself how the crooks in the soul want me to. delusional or not, i do feel those things that i think. everyone is an in existence person, but some reveal themselves to be up on the docket oddfellows every couple of years. create who you are. you will thank yourself for it.

at least i can swear that i live inside the computer. as far as any of you know that is all i have ever done. i believe that there are many parts of me that are unknown, to you, to me, to my family, to my lover, to my friends... but somewhere there is an answer. and i am certain that if i listen just right than i will know where i exist and who i am.

most of you will be like, look - if you don't know who you are then what the hell hope do the rest of us have? but that is the narcissism that i am talking about. if you know who you are, then please, i would like to know. i once asked someone if they knew who i was, and they thought i was being a jerk. i responded, no - i mean, i really don't know. they thought me some sort of mixture of a gnome and scenester, and definitely a uptight bitch with details nicer than there details that need to be. but let me tell you, if we were friends you would know just how brittle my silly little mind is. i tell myself in my perdition that i am nobody - as i see people who tell me that on a regular basis. i may be blind from the reality, but i do see. i know i see. that is the nonsense that nobody will ever know.

i mean, is perdition a group of people hanging out in various forms, made able to see each other but some great leader (i say krishna, but you can think as you must) so that we are not lonely, traveling through the mud towards some lesbian soldier who has been discharged and doubled to become a real peaceful warrior, a real shaolin? (i don't really know what that means)

this is a blog, certainly, and i do not know how many people read my writing or listen to my music. i also do not know what i sound like when you talk to me. i do realize somehow i have become someone special in this world. i have my friends and family to thank for that.

so really, when those bastards tell you that you are nothing - when they tell you what to think, don't listen to them. know who you are and exist. that is all any of us can do. nobody knows what you are here to do but you, and when people tell you they know what is best for you (in my experience) they either love you dearly and want to help and do not know what they are doing in there life. and maybe one day you'll be sitting in the psych ward like me, some wretch silent in the middle of the night crying while listening to someone talk you never knew was there. or listening to the people you wished were your family tell you they will always be there for you and those mean people are the pretend ones..

it sounds strange if you have some idea in your mind of who i am, but you never know who you will wake up one day a have been the whole time. all i know is that i exist and i like to write and make music. i have no idea what it sounds like to you. i do it because i want to. i am glad i am still able to.

thanks for everything, folks.

things i think without psychiatric medication:
by jon pelletier (bo sek shen - parialk zeek, hektor mustard, et al. -d, roma - kaizakia)

-the current psychiatric program of canada is really messed up and should be changed drastically. i also believe that i know who i am and if i am not bothering anyone i should be allowed to live according to my own devices. thusly, i have stopped taking the medicine and i am now thinking the thoughts that i should be naturally as a human at this point in history, not being forced to believe the ideals set forth by people who do not give a shit about me, nor this planet, and would like to control people into acting the way they feel they should. i am not, for the record talking about my psychiatrist, psychologist nor any counselors or nurses at mental health (they are nice people trying to help a worried person who may not trust them, it is a stressful job). i am talking about those who decided the system that would be imposed on the oppressed people of north america. these are a people who are unaware they are being tormented and blinded from the realities through the actions of a small group of people who would like the world to themselves, but are not intelligent enough to realize that they would have to build and fix their homes and gadgets, nonetheless work on farms to feed themselves, which by my estimate puts their average IQ at 65 according to common scales and places them far under the disability line, suffering from various afflictions, grandeur, social anxiety, megalomania, psychopathy and mass murder. they are yet to notice that these methods of control have not worked at all on their population, yet use one part of their brains (the verbal communication center is beside it, i’m not sure what it’s called) to try and control their “commoners” through the smoking of crack cocaine, which they themselves smoke in cigars that are illegal in their country. this does not actually give them any power, although their belief of the divine right of kings is about right, because is any trace destiny of these individuals seems to fit, they have been little else but one person at a time murderers for centuries (at least) and got a big hurrah near the end of this planets cycle, which already happened, don’t worry everyone is safe and just like those holy books they have all over the universe say, nice people didn’t blow up the planet and got to stay. i should repeat that although i am sort of talking religously, i am not currently even a priest, i am a police officer from another planet and happen to be the only one on the planet that is doing this. the only other one is one of my best friends and she is only here on vacation. also, as requested i did and did not bring my life-mate, and can often be found fucking myself. (there is another person there, by the way) oh, and it is totally ok to hang out with you dopplegangers, you do those lives one at a time.

-every consciousness is immortal, therefore the linear time of earth is only an agreement by two parties. the only moment is now, although there is a now for every consciousness - which gives time an almost infinite variety. thusly, time travel comes from purity of the soul, mostly because given the opportunity most un-evolved consciousnesses (such as those who seek power) would go around raping people (and do) when they are given the opportunity to stop time. if you kill or commit one of those sins, then you will lose your gifts (enlightenment and immortality) honestly, this is just common knowledge to most, but for the rest, i’m not a prophet, nor angel, nor saint - i am a cop. i work for the intergalactic space police and i am here to arrest a bunch of stupid folks who are commiting genocide. i will henceforth refer to these guys by the name dick cheney, although i mean the various dick cheneys who do not realize they are on stage right now, near the end of a really old and really good calender names dick, bush and colon (although, to his credit, colon backed out a while ago on the third simulation of what became their reality, a topic that will be discussed later or before, depending on how you use the time space continuum.) by the way, lots of those trippy movies are legitimate theories and some of the more far out ones are what people believe. there is life everywhere, that’s what russia thinks, and all you’s guys just don’t know that you are oppressed, you think that the other folks are, but don’t care. that is why you are.

- kids are taught nearly nothing but hogwash in schools, private or public - and this is both due to ignorance to the truths of the universe, and systematic defeat of reason by those in positions where control over the population is beneficial.
eg.) cats, dogs and other animals do not think. (this is genetically untrue and very easily provable by chilling out with a cow.)
eg.2) atlantis is a lost civilization, computers are new and canada thanks the hudson’s bay company and catholic church for their destruction of the first peoples. (this one is pretty easy to figure out, by looking at what was saved as history of atlantis, the ruins under the city of atlanta, georgia, and the state of the northern first nations and their thought training in which they are taught they could not read nor write. more proof silly things done in the name of god are easily found, as it a credible resource for trust and as the proper paranoid would think, some jerks use it.
- another proof for this is that for fourteen years we are reinforced the same history, and nothing regarding canada before 150 years ago is aloud to be taught to children. this is properly footnoted with a mention of proofs of liars known to psychologists overstating things because they really want you to believe it.

- when i sleep i go to another planet and live life as i choose to. this is true for all consciousnesses, it is just unknown to many. it is possible for these last 100 years to be little more than a computer simulation of a future crime - which was then run as a real event, although many of the major players in the simulation backed out, leaving fewer genocidal megalomaniacs, at least. it is possible to time travel while sleeping and live an entire life before coming back to the place that you awake from: that is why many people claim that the world i am currently alive in and have memories of is a dream. strangely enough, it is quite like the movie inception, which is often played over the subliminal message radio signal that (if you hear it) at times will sound like birds when there should be no birds.

- i primarily exist on the planet of kaizakia, coordinates 6.50.488.902-1, where i mostly play music, exercise and eat fresh natural food from gardens. it is quite similar to earth. there are only a few working “space cops” on the planet right now, and we are here only to save these politicians from themselves, yet with all the psychological help in the world, they have not been saved. when the sun turns inside out and the planet begins to rotate in the other direction they will stay, as that is their request and they don’t really know what they are doing. please accept that i have a very different viewpoint of time than most people when i say that this event has already occurred and everything is pretty much how you are currently expecting it to be.

- people experience what they expect to happen. i do suppose that your consciousness has probably existed as long as mine, (i am not certain because i don’t really know that much about the creation of the universe) had learned enough to exist on other plains of reality (sometimes considered other planets, often on earth considered dreams or states of enlightenment caused by meditation). i believe one has to be benevolent to be able to bridge that gap between worlds with the knowledge that we have gone from that side to the other. this is perhaps why people are drugged into submission and taught that we are not allowed to know anything. the mantra that the smartest man who ever existed knew that he knew nothing is both true and false, as most things are. this is for various reasons, easily provable with time travel, but the essence of the notion is that all things happen simultaneously in the present moment. which leads me to accuse everyone of being multidimensional beings and responsible for the troubles of the earth by thinking that they can do whatever they would like in their dreams. this whole document brings me around to sit with those nutty writers that talk about this sort of stuff, all of which have been commonly ostracized by the printers of money, creditors and warmongers who openly admit they would like the citizen population to go away, feel they are better than us and have been openly inbreeding for about 1000 years, which is why they tell people openly they are reptiles from space, which they are not. they are delusional both from drugs (which they sell) and madness (euphoria) cause by guilt from mass murder, which is well documented if you have the proper internet. these methods of control as definitely not working, even though they think they are. most people do not understand these control mechanisms, because of the drugging of foods and beverages and radio frequencies people are told they do not hear.

- nikolai tesla did not die, he just went back to space because the industrialists kept killing him and he was getting frustrated and wanted to work of science projects like a geek.

- my self, bo sek chai shen - hector d’jaberwokie am of a planet of little distinction besides its various monasteries and cool markets and tea shops that i like. i am currently about 27 years away from arriving on earth, but i am also here various times (i would rather not explain this here, but if you all check my mental health records i told the shrinks about two years in my future, as i have just arrived to this planet, which doesn’t make any sense unless i know how to time travel, which i don’t, but i’m asleep right now, so i can do anything.) i was actually requested by dick cheney himself, as i have much maligned my relationship with him i am primarily a psychologist and computer programmer who ran a simulation of his future crimes against humanity. i do feel this is all sort of my fault, as unfortunately dick bush colon decided to become who he was for all posterity, which at least gave us space invaders the chance to save the humans from getting sucked into a black hole to what is basically whatever you don’t want always land. i had no control over his decisions, i just asked him to go back and stop himself after showing him what was going to happen and such, and he just joined forces with his doppleganger. luckily, most of the other people who committed these atrocities served their long jail sentences, or are still serving karmically because as the shaolin know one can only ever harm oneself. this how i am able to be killed on a regular basis and still exist on this planet for the last 27 years without trouble, all while being here, not being here and being asleep on a bed of nails for a few days on a different planet. this is a bit of a leap of faith, but i don’t mind that you don’t believe that i know that i am a dreaming right now.

i should definitely add to this document the righteous confession that i am definitely not a prophet, nor an angel sent to help in this dire situation. if anything, i am lesbian nun who has spent a lot of time playing music while taking psychedelic drugs. i am, although, a working police officer from interpol (the intergalactic police). some people just awoke in their beds because they had a very strange dream. for these people, they would just like to live their lives as they have, and as they are expecting themselves to appear and become.
i repeat, i am definitely not an angel, saint nor prophet, although i was once sainted by the catholic church as nikolos, which then (because the rich and powerful are usually to ones getting in trouble for weird genocidal crimes and stuff, they have really tried hard to make me seem like a bad guy.) saint n. that’s pretty well who dick cheney requested for his war on god, which is silly, because if anything i would like to work for god, but i can’t get to close because i’m pretty much just a cop, computer programmer and psychologist. as such you may of heard of the devil st. nick, dick cheney bet him a hat that he would not be a still around guy at the end of whatever mr cheney was trying to do with this world, and in fact i am, so if you see him, i would like him to give me a hat. oh, and i definitely not like many of those catholic saints, and did not claim to be one, that was just what the catholic church bestowed upon leonardo da vinci, who was really just lost in time and on the wrong planet. anywho...

- on to the hard to hear stuff, these various jerks (bildebergers, NWO, some of pretty well every government, most of the media and whoever else hopped on the bandwagon) were totally only six people, and probably killed you a few times. it is ok. i have had 8 different names claiming to be the same person who i am writing this document as and each was assaniated at least 8 times, which is nuts but these people who are shooting everything and stuff don’t really get it, and that is why they don’t think it’s strange to be called dick, bush and colon and be destroying the world right now. we all know their crimes, so i won’t get into those. the funny thing they proves they are insane is that they do not think we notice they are doing this stuff. my favorite thought is that i choose not to participate in their requests entirely on purpose and therefore i live according to my whims and eat food when i need it and live a happy life having fun and being in a whole bunch of places right now.

- back to the science stuff (mostly physics), time should probably start at some point at zero, you remember, like it did 2000 years ago because everything happens right now, but there is a past and future, time is an agreement between two people. i can go to sleep and go back to the nunnery and hang out for a while, maybe take some classes and then come back and i have only slept a night. everyone can do that stuff and does. how there is only now, yet there is a past and future is a great mystery of the universe for the record and maybe the giants in the other dimension that even we consider angels know the answer to that, but they seem totally pure and stuff and i am still into learning about this crazy old universe that we are hurtling through a massive speeds. every once is a while the earth is totally destroyed because it will smash in to, like i dunno, a space turtle or something and nobody notices because they would like to go back to their world as they know it to be and expect it to be.

- i don’t know anything about scientology. my faith, on this world is called gnostic christianity - which is an acceptance of hinduism and therefore was excommunicated by the catholics church (as a form a control - as most people who are terrified of hell have on remaining chance before their expulsion to that whatever you don’t want always place until they quite destroying, well mostly the poets and minds of whatever and so on... again, this is not what i am here for, i am a cop and from space.) i feel that as far as religion is concerned, we aren’t even really supposed to talk about it because we do not know what god says, nor what his name is, as such two languages will call him the same word in a different accent (yaweh and allah) neither of which i suppose are his/her/it/we/they’s name, and nobody i ever met knows any of that stuff so lets deal with the other things like the speed of light and the reality of what water is, as i can totally breath outside of the space station (nasa knows about us and tells you lies) and it is sort of like being underwater here for many space people, which is why folks see the funny grey men, they are basic space suits. i bet the dolphins have myths about spacemen abducting their best and brightest while they are trying to catch fish to bring home to their family, and i should maybe use this opprtunity to mention the roswell incident: american military shot down poachers who were harvesting humans much in the way people kill rhinos and tigers, because they were considered whatnots and whatever and so forth, but interpol caught those cats and they are currently in jail. anyways, my opinion on faith can be summed up using parts of two songs - if i’m causing no harm it shouldn’t bother you, so let my lay down in the tall grass and let me do my stuff. i also think that because something exists without being made by say, a person, that is enough proof that it should be allowed to exist, which is why intergalatic laws state that no plants are to be made illegal, as many of them are cures for mortal desieses and such, and plus the old eye in the sky (not us) who people figure made everything made that stuff too and i assume likes to smoke pot, like me. i am in no way comparing myself to god, but i figure he likes me at least a bit because i both am totally blessed and kind of cursed in order to learn what i need to at this point in my existence. as i said, i wouldn’t like to discuss to much about faith and should assure that angels were probably here the whole time, and that yep, there are totally also atheists in space. i guess those who don’t believe in god figure that their parents made them, or whatever and anyways, back to the crazy stuff.

-i own a bunch of patents that corporate america have stolen from me, although they own the patent on currency and this is really what got them into this jam in the first place. i don’t really need to get into the patents, but they will come to light eventually and i assure you i am owed a great deal. this is why they assassinate me on a regular basis, but due to the fact that it really doesn’t bother me at all i just continue to exist where i do, mostly because otherwise i wouldn’t really have much to do, and plus you guys didn’t really have the technology to stop them, and as much as i wish it were true, jam band good vibes really aren’t going to go that extra mile when they have tanks and whatnot. i do assure you that they have a button that will blow up the whole world and they push that button regularly and the world continues to exist. the world exists in this way, because of what those wacky earth physicists have proven about the need for an observer for a reality to take place. therefore, as they have pressed this button that they believe will destroy all humanity it either does, in their mind and they are therefore left alone is some sort of oblivion that i assume is maybe a salvidor dali painting, or they remain unsure of their actions and motives, themselves really and they learn that the button doesn’t work and go back to these mazes they call culture and high society. to each their own. i should assure you that you could be born rich right now and just not realize it. it is totally normal, but if you are, could you please share with the poor, there is definitely enough to go around and starvation is really, seriously, logically brought on by the greed of some people. it’s like a grocery store that is filled with food but the family outside is not aloud to have it because they do not have enough tickets. i suggest, out of the good of your heart, please give these folks food, because they are hungry, not whatever thoughts the television and subliminal message machine are telling you they are. also, as far as the war on god, dick cheney, as you requested, i will back out and let you do it the way you know how to. also, one of their charges for crimes against humanity was blood magic, but they don’t know how to do it, do i had the charge dropped. it’s kind of like the jedi’s (as a race) and then people say that they are sith and want to pick a fight, when in fact there really is no sith, so that is sort of a joke to that people when they come here in future moments of now, and i assure you i was told that before i had been assigned to be your (and i hasten to use the word but none other really fits) variousdickcheneys prison psychologist. i also assure you fine people of earth that we totally would have done something earlier, but we were not quite here yet and if you change to much with time travel then the universe gets kind of wacky, but you all know that because of the press.

- fiction is a story about people, non-fiction is the dissection of facts. this does not make either of these classifications true or false. so, for the record i definitely think that visitors from afar have discussed actual events and theories with you guys through the use of film, television, art and literature. as such, and as i am surely aware, everyone is free to think what they like. i know for certain that in writing this document i am going to be approached by someone who cares about me and they will tell me that i need to be drugged and incarcerated in a controlled environment - and my response will be, i have never suggested that for you, and if i am not touching a nerve than you would not want me to go away. you sort of see the predicament, i hope, that any new thought can be said to be the inane ramblings of an absent loon, that i could suffer consequences legally and my rights could easily be taken away through loopholes in laws and malleable judges who listen to their friends. this is why, because i knew these folks were going to try and get rid of anonymity on the internet, i have refrained from doing anything anonymously online. i do, on the other hand, have an admission from higher-ups that they are that group of folks known as anonymous, because someone asked me to crack that case and they shouldn’t have asked me if they didn’t want to me to find out. because this information is classified and a war crime i admit that they assassinate me regularly now, but i suppose if you are living on a another planet running a simulation of this world and spending long hours in a physical body working for space cops, well, space goats fart.

-anywho, time travel is easy, look up the patent for campbell’s mushroom soup, and it’s similar. as it is kind of a riddle and they solved it totally wrong and hilariously, as bo sek shcen can be, (thanks) they were unable to create an object from two non-existant objects and prove that whatever and whatnot, and because they couldn’t solve the riddle they got soup and did not tell people it was poison. then they fed it to citizens, (another crime against humanity), so i changed the riddle a bit and it’s edible, it was just posion for a couple batches...) so no, i will not solve the riddle of bu’s patent for time travel, it’s part of the fun, if you recall, you kind of have to know what’s up be able to do that because what various dick cheney’s do when they can freeze time is commit crimes and rape people, which he did until those “men in black” were arrested. they were, in fact quoted as being “a private corporate army” by those silly inbred folk who believe they deserve the riches and the sick, thirsty and starving - too bad. those folks, well, space prison is so much torment or punishment as rehabilitation and i dunno how long they will be there, but i’m a little bit sick of mr cheney trying to rape me, myself. for the record. by the way, i am totally in another room and only talk to him once in a while - i am currently in the year 2020 as it seemed safe enough to explain the charges and stuff, but i’m not sure when it will be posted to myspace or whatever, it’s not really going to be mainstream press but hopefully someone will publish it, one of my doppelgangers might own a newspaper, who knows.

to be continued...

fictional pause

There was a pause for a moment, while the young man fell ill with the fever of twenty-odd years of requests to die being granted. The notion was asked for, begged for, bargained for and made the appeal of these great minds controlling the machine. As he entered this world, he did not want to go and begged that he would only live a few years. The minds told him that he would have to live long enough to reclaim righteous leadership and intelligent ideas in the world and when he had, he would be allowed to leave if he felt it was for the best. When asked if he wanted to go he told the wise minds that he would like to go to where he belonged and be the person that he truly was, instead of the gracious in kind donation of a synthetic shell that had carried his consciousness for these 27 years.

Although he understood the remarks made towards him, and the repercussions of leaving the world he was currently experiencing - he knew that his fate had been decided by metal shards, mighty blows and the halls of great requiem that would remember his idle age at death in the hollowed halls of fame, and thus - his mission would be a success even though he abided by the requests to refrain from being on stages or profiting from his work.

You see, our hero - who by now is dead because of his work (arguably this position has been omitted to protect the health and safety of those our hero holds dear) - was unable to explain to anyone his official occupation without compromising their safety. He was also not guilty of the laziness that he was charged with, and when this becomes clear, acting as a pious messenger to deliver these papers to legally powerful and segmented or damned men will show itself to not be a treasonous act as sucgh and very much in accordance with his job description. It should also be noted that all legal notifications of service of destructive (or breakable, tonal jammed) documents was made prior to the delivery.

It seemed like an easier way out for those held in secret cabals and doomed resources finally upholding their bargains and endlessly believing that they are the righteous kings, this notion that it is best to spray cancer from airplanes and poison water, or to jam that poison into a group of loosely tied people, our hero included, and let their various corpses hold the secrets that they could not let go. Once again, the criminal party in this document does not understand the processes in which the documents were served, refused to read the documents that were served and/or has an IQ of below 65. So, I leave it to your better judgement to discover the patents that I may or may not have, the mania ingrained in my medical files and the resources that have lifted my part of these conspiracies to the greater good.

Without further ado - my will.

1. As far as whatever i made that is tangible, like art - do something cool with it, like a show or something (make sure all the bands play for free) then mix em up and sell those things for money. Make sure you track those buggers so that they can all come together again and hopefully people will see them in a hundred years and appreciate them.

2. Print everything I even wrote on the computer at least once, copy it if you think it’s good. i’m going to try and do this now, starting with my entire blogs and stuff, one day they will pull the plug, surely and everything on this interweb will be gone. Lots (and i mean freakin’ epochs worth) of handwritten stuff is around in boxes and stacks of paper, much of it will be missing by the time this is read, but the rest of it will be an awesome book, it just needs a few touchups, maybe a plot, some characters - fuck em, give it to max zaitlin and tell him to be creative. whoever else in interested in editing and rewriting those sheets, go ahead, you’ll be able to find me in england somewhere, i’ll be a baby. (look for the one going by mustard or marmalade from jabberwocky, playing in whitby the crim.)

3. i have a heck of a lot of music that is only in digital format, it would be great if that could be somehow saved for all posterity as a physical document or tape.

4. the guitars should all be given cases so they can be mailed to the following addresses:

a) amos o’kane busted acoustic - mail this one to a nunnery in rome, it doesn’t matter which one. attach this will and a book of encouragement, as well as a manwoman nun’s in a dumptruck card that was gifted to the golo. the card can be blank, or signed by whoever is mailing the case (i mean the guy working at the desk at the post office, not you). if no nuns can be found in rome, mail the vatican and ask where the sisters of our service to the holy queen chapel nunnery is, and whatever language they speak at that nunnery, write the note in an illegible hand of gibberish similar to that language. they should get in touch to clarify and send them a book of encouragement and my resume. upon reply send word of my demise and perhaps a gift certificate to get licorice for all the orphans.
b) washburn timbrewood acoustic - this is my most expensive guitar, so please smash it into small pieces and place the pieces around the art show, its better if they go unnoticed, maybe to be complained about by staunch republicans at the show only to seem relevant because they are running in the next city council election, which they will most likely lose, because they tried to be cool instead of who they were. after the show, mail the pieces to those people who complained with a copy of this will, a book of encouragement and any applicable manwoman card.
c) fender bazooki, fender telecaster, fender squire bass - i’d like to keep these, but alas, i am dead - probably for a while, so i’m sure there is an orphanage somewhere that could use them. i’m thinking in LA.
d) 6 string ibanez bass - send this to republican national convention as proof of life beyond the grave. ask a proper rhinoceros like salam henchman of citrus, or cross- examiner delirious robot monkey vampire (xp 107) to deliver it. it is not a threat, just a notion of what could be without these sorts of delicious apple jacks.
e) check the time - write the current time and date here: ____________________
write a letter (or call, it your perogative) to the whitby general hospital in UK, ask if there was someone born at that exact time. if there was send the rest of my guitars to that family and explain, although this is not me reincarnating - i would like my gear to be in that town and they seem like nice people, so they can have it. if there is not a birth at that moment, then ask for a ten minute grace period on either side of that date, or perhaps no-longer consider the difference caused by time-zones.
ie, 2.15 = 2.15, or 2.15 = 10.15 ..... whatever is close, mail the gear to them, amps and all and request that it be kept for sale to a strange person dressed quite as requested by delirious, by now hanged men who asked for jabberwoks. if time travel is possible, and i already am a doppleganger of myself over there, i’ll be called something similar and these folk will be able to find me. if, in fact, a distant relative has had a birth near the time of my death, kindly disregard these instructions and give everything i own to her, including whatever rights rights to all the music and stuff like that garble.

5. otherwise, all rights to everything i have recorded, written, said or decided should be left to mirva and my current family, any kids that fall out of anyone and whatnot until they become public domain. because i’m new at this ‘leaving stuff to myself’ thing. just know that i will be in cahoots with mustard or marmalade, so be mindful of the sudden appearance of someone grey, similar to morrigan, carillon, madeline or something of this tone, some abject resource brought by fish, righteous indignation and irish republican drunkards settling on the main island, nothing like the servant of myths of the shae. it will be more troublesome because of the reality, the quarrels meant for me, the threat of impulse that did not scar me, scare me nor torment me, but allowed me to be ran through without earnest protest.

6. my books (by other authors) can be donated to the conservative party of canada. please send them one a day, with the return address as -
jon pelletier (hector from jabberwock)
x81176b-57(delete)9
the shae, whitey -crim (england)
jab-isl, siren motive.
(this is a letter from whitey the crime)

7. whatever else i’ve got, give to whoever wants it.

facebook thread that seems important

this facebook thread came up today and built itself up like something that should be saved. i avoid using the names of the two other people involved in the post, because they are both also members of media (in whatever form) and i didn't ask if i could copy and paste their shite. without further ado...

dangerous thinking (part 1)

Jon Pelletier
the department of capturing and drugging should be abolished, as it is now used primarily for the capture and behavioral rehabilitation of people who believe themselves to be magical or special and those that do not want to comply with standard ways of thinking or social norms. the mental health act is often used to change and stigmatize political activists. it is proven that the only positive side effect of the torment and forced tranquility provided by this governmental department is the ability to make people stop talking. although useful in times of dissent, it does not actually change the persons opinion of the situation, just allows the "normies" of the general public to consider intelligent people diluted or disabled, and is a great way to discredit their ideas. the drugs make their patients reliant on the system, or sleep all day and be silent. psychologists and counselors, however, should be provided for no cost to the patient. psychiatrists will also quit getting paid for every pill they prescribe, which would get children and elders alike off dangerous medicines comparable or terrifyingly similar in many studies to cocaine, speed and barbiturates. sounds paranoid, right? that's what they want you to think.
Like · · Unfollow Post · 57 minutes ago

R C Z H and J W like this.
J W - You change an obsolete system by creating a new One!!! >>> Join your local healing community...most there have had the above option...but turned to community rather than Government to aid each other through times like this.
and I agree...don't become a government drug user!! ;)
52 minutes ago · Like
Jon Pelletier they made me take the drugs against my will for a long time, then it actually turned out in the notes they just thought i was gay. i'm not, but i'm not worried about it like they said i was. other than that there was no diagnosis, but i was loud and political, and all the psychiatrist wrote about me was a few notes when i was 15. even if i was gay i don't really feel like that's a reason to tranquilize me. and i don't know if ganesha coming down from the ceiling and telling me that the government is lying to me about everything make me gay. i mean, he was purple or whatnot, but that's not necessarily homosexual... the lesson i took from it after years of emotional torment and trouble trying to get up and move at all is that i just should mention some things to some people. like, what i did is mention something to a school counseller that i should have said to a priest, they sent to the psychiatrist and said it again... 10 years of life gone and i had nothing to show for it except a reliance on government tranquillizers and the depression and embarassing appointment every couple of weeks of getting a long needle of apathy drugs in the butt. and i this sort of thing is common.
45 minutes ago · Like
J W - yes...I have heard stories of the like.... but you have something.... You have your Will and your knowledge from it all. and from that... You can do anything!!! and help many....
42 minutes ago · Unlike · 1
Jon Pelletier ‎"oh, i've lived six times in the last hundred years often as dopplegangers of musicians playing in the same band, jabberwocky, the fancy show (with knives) not of stages, as requested ... you know, the legitimate english reincarnate that was asked politely to serve the war-crimes papers to the bush administration because they either thought i did neat work or they thought hector from jabberwocky playing a 100 year all requests set would let them get off unpunished, because they have never had the divine right of power gifted by an intelligent universe until there was a grand technological development and it was only because spirits knew that he would try to destroy the world and be unsuccessful, then live in infamy for all time as an example of what not to do... it happens every 1000 years or so i figure, because if you map the reigns of genocidal maniacs they usually coincide with technological leaps forward." if you mention something like that to a doctor he tries to lock you away and prescribes you shut up and quit caring medicine, often proven to make the patient a drug addict...

dangerous thinking
23 minutes ago · Like
R C Z H - big pharma is a cancerous boil on humanity. only concerned with money and the medical and social system is the most lazy self concerned pile of crap going these days. it's all about the money in the end.. sad
20 minutes ago · Like
Jon Pelletier it's more worrisome if it's about control
13 minutes ago · Like
Jon Pelletier controlling people is an exercise in futility, either way, because you can't. buts it is really twisted if that's what they are trying to do.
12 minutes ago · Like
R C Z H - control is an issue for all governing bodies. but it's about a self centered society that has no time for other peoples problems anymore. they just look for ways to make them disappear so as they can go on with their shopping. there is no empathy anymore. no real empathy. how can there be, no one has the time. they're all to busy trying to get laid in one way or the other.
5 minutes ago · Like
Jon Pelletier it's easy to shun someone who has dangerous facts by saying they are mentally ill. it creates a stigma, multiplied by the effects of the medication (face drooping, slow/slurred speech, hard time getting through comments, apathy, depression). it's terrifying.
2 minutes ago · Like

By distraction, my leave from her light had tense speed running through me, like a irate craft or heady nun, she sped toward the light. Had they known either of the thoughts, I felt unsure they could multiply and I set with increased importance, a letter to help the form take hold. These are dead scraps in the distance, a scrape to the window sill or a tapping on the glass to tell these times thier details or to escape winters grasp as a soul with righteous indignation and resolve. I am only bringing it forward to march between these halls. The sped light of eight or more candles and the space in the lair told us the other thought you cloud.

It is important to note that the discussion was of a gentle tapping or slow rapping on the window, sir. It was keeping me up at night. The candle flickered in the morning as the silent street beckoned and I surely wrote the letter for the silent night that came upon the research brought for water-marked new papers a notary public knew and could bring towards these lights on a harmonious brilliant surface. Because the dream is over and I have to believe in mind, I assure you that these lights bring my surface up and make my place of this design.

The neighbor looks in first condescendingly and then twice with deep regard. I am not the person he assumed me to be. I am not tapping at his window. The connection between us is that at last I am assured that this tapping is not his handiwork. It is from a branch in the wind swinging on an invisible tree that is gently rapping at the window. It is keeping us up at night.

Water for the people and why we should know.
I am writing a list to detail a formula for diverting my nonsense from the annoyances of other people. I am also writing this list to refrain from annoying other people. The fear took me over and I had to look at that calming shade of facebook blue. That is an addictive colour, and also why the pain goes away when I look at it. I suppose it is better than smoking. Why can’t I take the few pauses to listen to my muse and enjoy her? I cannot, because she is with her sister-wife. They are taking care of children.

She is a caring, wonderful and beautiful person. What a great job she has done, and all the while knowing the pain of fearing the universe and that silent grace that is within every person. I know there is a gracious tome to describe her that is as yet unwritten. Water is the only purpose for those little dreams. Ghosts play their games and know that those meddling kids reign inside. It is possible that these little soldiers bring their homes to us. It could be why we hate them.

One day a fancy man dressed in fancy clothes will call me, and turbulent times will await their delay. Once I quit the fancy chemicals, there was a clear pause in the trial. We were made to be happiness. Sure, we had little demi-gods to look for, but the window sill was secretly clear. She wrote measures made for little pills, that demon. She woke in the morning clear as day, no worry nor clear conciseness, she was tired but was going to be able to sleep a long night of happy dreams before she had to wake in the world that circumstance made her.

For now she can be assured that her home is wonderful and warm, that there is food there and at the place she is now and that she is loved by a man who sits typing like no other kind of being. That made her feel good.

It was possible that the person the typing man was asked to search for was a racing dragon, headed south through the cold night of the desert trying to cross the border like a paragon, being chased by border patrol and the FBI, hopelessly treaded on by water (or chemicals) and doomed beyond repair because of the silence dripping from his limited and shapeless motives. It was circumstances fault, we repaid no glory nor servitude. The country was at war and their borders must be protected. It is the same in the Great White North.

There are people everywhere trying to find us. And I am not a writer, nor a spy: because I can only simplify things by relating all information I have over the decades long transmitter, perhaps wondering for their little trace that all the dreams and lights are beyond their little dragons fighting the wind for all the shapes they have lifted. What did I have for it? Nothing. Not a cent, and another half of my life incarcerated. I was cool by breaking the law in two jurisdictions, but as I was caught it didn't feel right.

It made me believe that it is best to grow intellectually to rise against a power oppressing you, so that by speaking you can create positive change instead of giving the oppressors a chance to control me further because I was trying to take their empire piece by piece. I know because I am the law of myself, and I know from past experience that it may be best to do what those people holding all the guns say. It is possible to still live a fruitful and revolutionary life, but maybe we should work with the system already in place, that way we do not have to take all that time to create a new system.

It is only this way because we comply. Without that, they cannot hold us.

north/south divide (grievances)

To write, and only to fill a void on the internet.
There needs to be constant supervision or nothing will ever be right. The details I once left must be buried on my site. That is the only was to secure enough proof of rapscallionism to settle the dreams I had before once and for all. Sometimes there is a good sister, made for me. I hope there belongs a great leader, teacher and mother in me. The good will of cloning is made ever the more chaotic by the fearless teachers of those Bristol community colleges. But these days I know nothing of Bristol. I only know of Summerland.

Perdition is a place just outside that gated community. The high clay walls block their foodstuffs and presume all the outsiders must be leveled and gained. Primarily I was awoken to this procedure before I turned the age 12. Before then I knew little else, but I wondered if somewhere I lay in a warehouse resting on vast acres of childhood imagination, alone with my thoughts and at peace with the world. This was quite how I would have enjoyed myself aging.

This detail has been left out, due to apple cider vinegar dripping from my tongue. These romances do not describe their people, nor the lost man of Summerland for whom this book is written. Peaceful resolution is a case in point. There have been many lost souls traveling this 300 000 mile north/south divide. The cactus tends to stick to my shoes in the summer. Perhaps that is why I left the woods. Somewhere I will live in harmony with myself and nature.

Words like pedals
Dieing leftover parts
Meddling in their wavering form
She speaks like the others

Ghosts in several lands
Speak like martyrs
Trading their sheepish night
She speaks to the water

Tell them they know anything
Tell them they are right
She paused
The cat was late
They told him in was five-fifteen
And sent him to their mother’s

Sisters spark wavering told like a shapeless mass or filth
And never more than one day short they brought the mystic reign
When they could have reasons for a simple pathogen
That marked their cross
A way, for them, to innocence

There was a water sent for gasoline matters
Spilling their times they send people to mine fields
They know it is important to treat them with cause
For they are bent like a road
That is perfectly still
And the trees are all made to be righteous and real

So taking their wandering mind from the shattered fall
Speakers that can be unkind watch their palace fall
And surely there is some kind left inside the man
For I speak with wrath for the peaceful encounters left
And I speak with charred lands and remembrance of the fallen

There is no palace that can save you from your sin
There is no ending that places you to begin
You will have to live down every last plan
And you speak calm like a dying man
Dressed in his pain

Sincerely, Jack Sanderson










To: Dick Cheney

I have put off writing this letter for a long time, mostly because I don’t like you.

It will publicly announce your acceptance of guilt for your actions and suitably your afterlife will be less horrific and will gradually get better as you make the proper decisions to re-establish your existence in the creators world. You see, Dick Cheney, it is like we have signed an agreement with the creator in which you agree to respect the world that created you. We are also bound by this contract to abide as a team.

You were obviously very little more than a “one person at a time” murderer for the 500 years or so since the last great advancement. Thusly, you were given all the power in the world at the time of the next great advancement of humanity. Because of your actions with all the power in the world (mostly just weaponry and fame), especially your war on God, you are booked soon for a transition to your afterlife. This is a stick in the eye to you from immature spirits that God loves. It is that you can see the future for a moment and always remember how you tried to destroy it.

Although most people stay in God’s world, reborn soon after death and filled with happiness, full of good things and nice feelings, you, sir, due to over 3 million casualties of war, will have a damnation reserved for special cases. Once you arrive in Summerland, (which has already happened because you are reading this and I saw you), the flight back will cause you to have a difficult dream because in God’s world there are many people everywhere you go that don’t like you. Power was initially discovered (this life) as a great way to be popular. It was really because of your friends you joined the CIA.

You will know this, because the time has come for you to feel guilty, and because you hear my voice in your head very often and know what I am about to say yet still want me to be cool with you, the time has come for paradise to fall. There is nothing in the water here. This is not such exodus from Babylon. I have told you for years that eventually you will die of natural causes. It is God’s will, and it is so people like you some day go away.

Genocide is the kind of sin reserved for few psychopaths. I feel that you must really want to do it for a number of lifetimes. Surely you endorse the actions of yourself without the opportunity, an also famous man name Jeff Dahlmer. His wish is God’s command and you were given your chance to make up for sins. You could have fixed this planet but you used the opportunity to commit as many atrocities as you could in a lifetime. You and your friends are responsible for more torture than anyone who has ever been sent to me.

I’m afraid I cannot be your lawyer,


Sincerely
Jack Sanderson





Dear 2012,



Please don’t be the end of all time. Could you please just bring us into the light? Could this be the revelation and return to light and not the destruction of all time?

Please quit scaring all these conspiracy theorists into frenzy. They are sometimes dangerous people that will get very worried about the end coming. If you could put an end to this dangerous paranoia, that would be just wonderful.

I’ll wait.


Sincerely,
Jack Sanderson

title for this post 2

To Thadeus,
Misdirection masks my permanent vacation. Also, the cave is filled with drawings because I finally have patterns on my shirt. Three times in the past 400 years I have come here to stay. It is a wistful a long voyage from England. I have been back two times in this life and I can get there in a day. The age of magic has begun!

These lines are out now. Like the dreams before them and the tragic friendship, these lines are now crossed. The hope is that people who are mindful can be caustic like the others. Neither people’s hope are interpreted. We are all fired for their final increase. It was that they it wished to be a one-step process towards those who need their minds undone. We are not the illness, because the illness is of some the art of lying about feinting.

I like my job. I like to be here for the day. With all the reasons I walked forever, chalky white and making their way towards me I resented the oppression. Chasing the orchard with wandering sensation, these shows are heavy set with the oppression.

Is it better to give coat racks hats to keep them safe or to let nature take its course and their decisions righteous? Would they also be patient until they need their hearts to lead them away?
Myself, I sure hope the coat rack is around when I get back. I want him to be okay, as he got out when I had to go to work. There is a big scary road nearby and it is final, that term. But he cannot be caught. He won’t give them a cent for their apples. That is in fact why they set up the BC Tree Fruit agencies. Why do coat racks even like us, wise as they are? Worlds change us and before the fall, Thadeus, she charged that he had left water outside. He cares about me just fine, as a careless mind would.

Right now he’d just be a latchkey kid. Keys in a child’s hand regard the absent parent in a good home, where the children are great. I was one like that, and I did not have reason to fear except belief.

Wind them up, like legitimate people, these harpies with their fine widgets, with all sorts of white sovereign nations. We love you, and it would be a shame if you got hurt. It is a grand life, Thadeus, if you choose to live it. You must explore, but moreover you will have to hang out with the good guys. Make true friends, kitty. Play with the dog. Be safe Thadeus, and if you see the coat rack, send him back home. We have a show to perform at 7:30.

And I wonder, Thadeus, can we wonder?


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------





-Ancient Cizzors-

Dear Waterberg,
“Here is some niceness from their turbine, harps that dry their wishing well, these are their own water bags,” they needlessly speak gibberish. “Knife in his painting, she sees the shine, the people on their minds hope they were walking into here. There are people who watch the folk, they need people here who have been waiting a long time for these dreams.”

The firm of investors stop to listen, there is a moment of pause with she calibrates what she will say. There is a hope that this procedure will get her off their trail. It is like a filibuster sent from Mr. T to the rest of the actors so that he gets his face on the cover of the movie.

She replies, “History does not start 150 years ago. These parts were populated long before then. Perhaps it is difficult to get historical information from those people, as they do not want us to know their secrets and the information has been told orally. Like our history it may have been altered towards allegory. They may be tales made fantastic, and beliefs like our ancient beliefs, of fantastic creatures and magical powers.”

The first investor replies, “Magic was made illegal over there. Here it is commonly practiced and accepted. The same will happen with your new computer and the digital art world. It will happen each time you invent it. One day, you will not know what helicopters or airplanes are. They will be your tales of Dragons and Thunderbirds. Only our firm will have them.”

“There is talk in mystical fiction of living with dragons,” the second investor states, “and also the knights are kings who slayed them all.”
She spoke before the third could and it angered him, “Is this story, which has been passed down through generations for a lond time similar to the myths of Thunderbirds and Shapeshifters?”

“These tales are true, you blasted witch!” The third investor shouted, “Your magic tablets, with their important tones and words meant to hypnotize, I believe you have created something black.”

The fourth investor said to her, “Just because of the innate evil of many humans and because your magic tablet is hypnotizing and misshapen, this will mean pain and suffering to the human race. In that hands of a good person it can play music and browse movies, but in the hands of a bad person it can browse thoughts. And surely many evil people will learn this hypnotism, such that they can browse thoughts just by speaking. For this reason your kind of new magic is also banned. We will keep the tablet.”

With this she was escorted out of the room.

An Open Letter To Whoever Is In Charge Here:

The light is here for you now
There is a certainty in it
We all must pass judgement
Should we choose to remain

Sources account for losses measuring in the millions. The depth of our struggle is designed for the source brought back from the leaders of this motivated action. I assure you, (sir who is watching), that I am not the agent you are looking for. I have no action that designs any group meant to stop the common man from action within the confines of anonymity. I am also certain that research with vigor will show details of colonies defeated much more easily than these who exist now. I extend the truth that someone was very far sighted and knew the correct things to do over the last 500 years or so.
I am also aware that the plan is running out of steps. The appendix added on to the end of your document was perverted by the greed of men who have long since been sent away from your clubs. Jesus saves those who save themselves.

There is no licensed program more telling of your sins than Action %567-X.
In this reasonable event man defeated his greatest enemies in a war that lasted many lifetimes. In a way, this was our victory. Many people have been killed by the trouble makers three or more times. This is lovely when it happens, very great for humanity. Many of these people are not the spiritual sort until they are murdered the second time in a short period. They are much more easily malleable as misguided fools in need of abuse and directions to belong to a club that promises to be something great for their people. Instead they are used twice and come back quickly again, having reached an age of perhaps 42 years in two lives. At this moment there is a direct contact with some grand and noble spirit who has directed the good leaders for eons before and eons to come. This is the enlightenment that was sent from some unknown place to kill you.
I am afraid it will not be a person.

The graceful fall of sharp written tomes, lighting fires sent for water. These will be snuffed out, like the seashell that warms the mollusk, just miles from here, at my home. There is a white light on the beach there. Some people say that I cannot see it, but surely there it is, clear as day. Christ, could the bigger silence light my mind? There must be a reason to believe.

I haven’t gone to church in time to ask the man why these acts are perpetrated. There is silence when you show the madness some regard as business as usual. I am sure there was a place for each of our people. I know that we have little regard for those from other kingdoms, but perhaps if we show them loving kindness they will respond to help us when we are in trouble. Instead it seems as if we are creating a future more turbulent then ever before. They will not forgive us for destroying their world. Our citizens will not forgive us for destroying their world. Surely the reign you asked for ends with a dire silence, a dark cold and some bashful, painful, reasonable reaction from the press.

They will all speak well of you. I know certainly that you will not pass through the gates, nor will your actions be given a chance for retribution. You are a fearless man, but one day you will find shapeless, sexless mass where once you stood. The actions that you told us were pure will leave you sadness, as the nymphs and fairies that you have banned from existence lead you to the labyrinth that many sinful perverts guilty of mass genocide come to. You can make magic illegal but you can’t take it away. It has only left us with no way to charge someone who commits murder through the use of curses or dolls.

You, black page, dear to the others, writing like a wine stained abject verb. I must believe!
You, my friend, dripping light wide like a Soviet platform. You have to breathe. When we both take hands and leap I know that we will find our light. It is the survivorship of these simple times. I must take this survival as a blessing and know that only shining tapes regard my passage. I have sinned like other able bodied friends that burn their way through the desperate streets that I once walked fearing tell-tale signs of direct flesh bought from detailed maps of this perfect place. There is a simple answer. I know that I must save the thought for the end, but undeniably I pause to find this small box that holds his heart.

I don’t pause here now. I may act like a persistent druid. I must face the immortal soul with valor that was long lost to friends made from every advancement. It is a knowledge of where I was when they began to place houses on top of each other. I suppose England had just ran out of room. No, there was room for everyone to have a place. We needed to build the cities high to keep green pastures for our meat. I am sure that I need overwhelming mindful vision to be sure, and surely I can tell the tale that I have meant for none. This is a secret, a sort of ever-changing wine filled vestibule. Certainly I can belong to the objectifying rule. Certain as I am, I know that I am not this fool.

There is a terror in my voice, a subtle but heard cry. Dreams of daggers, cloaks and hammers often pass me by. There is a curious cat that speaks, I am not certain of the tone. He is not the feline kind, of course, rather a jazz man I have known. I call him a cat because he reminds me of those old sheltered happy sorts that still finds time to hunt his game purely for the sport. Curiouser and curiouser I certainly dream of the long ago days I know, but settling for the perfect life I must begin to learn a word or two of these new languages that the people speak. There is a purity, to be sure. There is a calm wave on a beautiful morning in some salt pool near the ocean that filled up in last nights storm. It is windy so we must hold our hats for fear that the sea will take them as hers. There is a reason that I can belong to that final, reasoned time.

A man approaches me, as I sit idly on the bench that morning. I am filled with sheepish cloth, written quite like a mindful portion of salt on my breakfast. I say nothing to him for a moment, as he sits next to me on the bench. I am not fearful. There is something comic in his bright blue eyes, his curly brown hair needs cut and nearly blocks them. He is clean shaven, dressed like a high school principal, but he is much too young. I worry that he will talk to me and that I will have to say something witty, but he gazes out to the sea where I was looking and I am peering right at him. I turn back towards the water and pretend he has already gone. That is the moment he speaks.

“She already has me mother, to be certain. She already speaks like the Devil. Why can I be sure that you are different from the last girl? How can I be sure you are not this ocean.”

I pause, because I must reply. I must find the proper words to bring his shining mind to rest. There is a purpose in my life when I meet this man. For a brief moment I can close the drapes and think alone and rest. For a moment I can breath and speak in time with each of his steps. I must belong to this moment for the rest of my life. I have been waiting for this question for so long that I choke inside, my lungs hurt and I gasp. I cannot tell him why. I want to tell him all of that, that he had changed my life.

All I can muster is, “Perhaps you can touch my hand. I am not a liquid.”

That seems witty now, but at the moment I didn’t think so. It may have seemed that way if this morning companion had laughed. It may have been to early for any of this. He chose not to touch my hand, instead wishing me a good morning and saying that he would now be late for work.

“I wanted you to know that I saw you this time, as I often do at this spot.”

As he said that and as we wished each other farewell I remembered the same man in a canvass jacket walking silently passed me as I wondered into the wind the day before. I could not recall another time that I saw him, but noted that my mind is often away on business and it is possible he passes me sitting here every day. I hadn’t realized how much I liked the morning until this moment. I had just been waking myself up to see it every day.


There is a purpose for this memory, which is entrenched in my mind somehow and from a place and time very far away. I may never be at that place again. In fact, it is possible that the sea has long since eroded that path and sent my memories a drift with the dirt and dreams of both these impossible people being sure of their places in a world nowhere near a mad as the one we live in now. I can be certain the man recalls that moment as well. There was only one other way to town for a purposeful mission for work or for foodstuffs. With a cockeyed glance I needed to push this riot away. There is only certain doom finding parts of my soul that distribute these stories. I once heard a writer say that one needed to believe in what they were telling the reader and that there needed to be urgency. The writer must have something to say, to share, to teach. Otherwise in it there is no purpose, just a bland moment. Tired as I am, there is a person who is weaker and if I cannot belong to fear I bring the others weakness. Sure I bring a motive, daft and pure of it’s resolve but clearly I cannot be trusted with the fate of weakened minds. I can be certain, although you do not know me, that sir, I know you well. I can recall the moment that we met eyes and there was something very special.

Sir, you are a dripping light sent from the space where we come from and if you kindly take your gasoline I may just write you back. I am not hopeful that you will receive this note before your death but each of us is brought before the court, in courses of action quite like you said, there is a wonderful world beyond this spacial relation that we call our lives. There is bright days and sunshine in a world much like this one and we can choose to be someone if we want to be. I know, because everyone lives forever.

You knew this once, but I am afraid that you may never be here again. I must explain in writing that art must be taken as a lifestyle, and not everyone can live within it’s boundaries. There is a certain fatalism that artists live their life by. Mine includes a kind gesture to a stranger at the hope that I will be the recipient of a calm hand of support. I try to add as much as I can to the community, work time in a shop, write, muse, paint and sing songs. I do all this without the request of remuneration, which most people find absurd. The fatalism is the silly belief that God will provide. I am certain that I will always have something to eat, though it comes perhaps from the lack of the other experience. The only times I have gone hungry have been at the behest of my bad decisions. Any time I would live drunk with crooks or been a bitter, sad, dirty person I have gone hungry. As a good person I have been very good. I eat fine.

I was certain that it was a divine hand in my life. Now I feel I am this way to learn a lesson. Perhaps my life was my choice. I cannot always be certain. There is a fool inside me who wants to get out. I want to let her. She is the acceptance of myself and my own sovereign life form. I do not answer to powerful men in rancid offices, I do not laugh in the face of the wretched like you’ve asked me. You are a faceless, immortal pain that treats me like nothing and asks for my sympathy in return. You have made your mistake. There is nothing left to learn this life. There will be plenty of lessons in eternity.
It is within the simple nature a damned men to think that there is a recipe that will take their soul forward into new worlds. These lands will probably be conquered and divided, but not by the same groups of fools that tried to destroy this one. The mistake of lackluster promise, or a purity of religion that suggests that some sort of suffering will be unleashed on the human race once again, and these will be of forces perhaps as grandiose and misshapen, but these new pillars of evil will not be you. Sir, you will be damned. Fear not, humanity, for there are scepters behind us all. Death is waiting for each one of us. The next step is our own making. We always get what we need. The grand intelligence behind our electric bodies designs a kind of fate, so that we become full and pure beings, so we choose.

There are many dissenters, and the man I met on the walking path near the water was certainly one of them. He was nice enough, but didn’t want anyone to tell him what to do. Primarily because his mother told him he must receive communion twice a week, he hadn’t received it since he had left her care, although he often went to church. He sat at the second row from the back and politely opted out of this ceremony without excuse nor regret. He claims when pressed that he doesn’t think his life in much different for it.

Sincerely,
Amor de Cosmos