SCARY MARY
scary mary
because it has to happen.
because i have been out of comission.
because i know many liars.
because i told a bunch of people my name was "chip"
so that
later -- when they proved to be asssouls
i would know them.
sinister,
shallow,
reptilian
assholes
would not know my real name.
friends would and do consistently so it was a case of defensive white
magery that worked. likea score card i know who the real racists
are
in that scary little scene -- and they don'tknow anything about me.
i also have moist vagina with courtney singing harmony. wow.
anyway, longshotlove is just an idea. butit's a real GOOD idea.
people who got to know me instead of being prejudicd. friends in
the world beyond viewscreens and email.
now i can sitand listen to the other ones lie.
and tell you this little story of Scary mary,
doing some cutting and pasting. from deadjournal.
here it is!
enjoy.
Love, Mikal
sponsored by marvel.com sort of.
INTRODUCTION:
Hell, Eris! Oil Hell Discordia!
02:01 pm - lying
bullshit fuckers (my conversation with the most high god)
mikal:
lying bullshit fuckers, lying, lies, bull of shit, they are bull of
shit, bullying, living bullshit lie livers...fuck them all!!
God:
SURE, THEY ARE SO FUCKED. WHAT NEXT?
mikal:
well,
maybe some love. that would be nice. and some flowers, maybe some
begonias, and i love coleus, and daffodils, and
maybe--rhododendrons...crysanthemums, and maybe fruit bearing
trees...that
would be lovely.
God:
OH YES! WONDERFUL!
what about some love, over there...and here...heck, lets's have love
everywhere.
NOWHERE WITHOUT LOVE. IS THAT YOUR DESIRE?
oh,
yes, most definitely. and love, more love, on top of the love. maybe
even some LURVE and maybe some 'luv'. YEAH! and some free love, lots of
that. that's the best kind.
WHAT ELSE?
clean water...mmm,
fresh. clean running cool water, too. and clear warm winds. and some
fire! mmm, some nice fires, maybe sunlight, some starlight...moonlight
is loveley...and yes, dirt, some nice dirt, to walk on, withoutr dirt
where would we put the pansies, the begonias, the fruit bearing trees?
ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT?
well,
good things. tons of wonderful gOOd things, unarguably good things.
lots of JEWS. healthy, happy, smiling JEWS, with their JEW FRIENDS, and
JEW FAMILIES, and of course JEW TRADITIONS...lots and lots of healthy,
happy, peaceful contented JEWS...i want lots of jews. JEWS, i say, JEWS.
UH HUH. SO WHAT WILL YOU CALL THIS PLACE, HMM?
I think i will call it something pretentious and hopeful like "HEAVEN
ON EARTH", or maybe "PARADISE REGAINED."
any other types of people besides just these JEWS you seem so fond of?
oh,
yes, everyone and everyone, of every type. but they must be nice to the
JEWS. it's really for the JEWS you know. they deserve this wonderful
place, with it's fruits and flowers, and cool runNing water. oh, yes,
milk! but magic milk, no cow necessary. and honey. and formerly
forbidden fruit.
SO YOU WANT TREES AND FLOWERS AND FRUIT BEARING TREES, IS THAT RIGHT?
uh huh.
AND THE FOUR ELEMENTS, IS THAT WHAT YOU WERE TRYING TO SAY?
ALL THAT EARTH, WIND, WATER, FIRE STUFF?
yes, that's right!
AND
LOVE, LOTS OF DIFFERENT KIDS OF LOVE, FREE LOVE, AND 'LURVE' AND 'LUV'?
DID YOU WANT SEXUAL LOVE TOO? YOU DIDN'T SPECIFY THAT.
oh. welL, um, yes! of course, sorry.
DETAILS MATTER, YOU KNOW.
sorry. but that was the formerly forbidden fruit!
OH. YEAH, RIGHT. RIGHT. THAT MAKES SENSE. AND MAGIC MILK WITH NO COWS?
well,
there can be cows, see, but the cows should be able to be free to do
what they want, and you get the milk from, well, maybe a spigot, or a
man comes and dropps it off. that's your department, this is just my
vision.
YEAH, WELL ALL THIS IS EASIER SAID THAN DONE.
but it IS doable, right?
YEAH,
ADMITTEDLY. LOOK, YOU HAVE A SERIOUS ANTI-INTELLECTUAL HATE-FILLED
ASSHOLE PROBLEM DOWN THERE, BEFORE WE PUT THES REQUISITIONS THROUGH YOU
WILL HAVE TO AT LEAST MAKE AN EFFORT TO DEAL WITH YOUR SLUG-BRAINED
ANTI-INTELLECTUAL HATE-FILLED ASSHOLE PROBLEM, WORK ON THAT, EH?
okay. but the other stuff?
UM..WE'LL GET BACK TO YOU. >CLICK<
well, i will keep praying anyway.
joke 'em if they can't take a fuck: crossing a bear.
08:46 pm - logan stung my
eardrums
'what
are you gonna do, join the fight be an x-man? you're a mutant! they'd
spit on ya as soon as look at ya. what are you gonna fight for them
for...they hate you.'
but ororo was a goddess, so it has been
said.
she argued about helping the weak, those who had no voice...it
turned my head back towards the idea of what being a real hero was all
about.
and it got me thinking it wasn't as much about fighting
evil as it was about DOING GOOD.
not quite the same. not about looking
for a fight--Logan was used to that-- but about compassion. wow , how
could i not be in--
everything sucks, so a better world, where
the israeli and the palestinians, the mutants and the normals, must be
brought into existance.
Logan was fed up, but he tagged along, and of course it was good that
he did.
and
Magneto wanted revenge. Maggie and Chuck saw justice from different
points of view, one wanted blood for blood, while chuck...wel he was
motivated by desire to preserve what good was surviving.
Longshot? who asked MY opinion.
(so
what.)
08:51 pm - who wants to be an x-man
powers,
powers...mine aren't that impressive. ben grimm, the torch, Monica
Rambeau, they're impressive. i just think, who is impressed with
thought? It's invisible.
But even Forbush-Man could be a good
guy, even Forbush-Man could call 911 when something bad was going on,
and cooler heads needed to prevail. even a janitor could be
softhearted...
all this ripping and tearing, it hurts. maybe somebody could strive to
heal what's already there.
'so what are your powers?'
oh, i cry alot...i feel real sorry for people...besically i am a wreck.
but i care a lot.
yeah, that's my power. i care enough to stick up for the undercounted.
opuch.
an
x-man? what, am i looking for a fight? maybe i am looking to put out a
fire with something other thangasoline. maybe i wanna be mister nice
guy. of course i'll be tested. everything is a test, i have a broken
toe teaching me catfighting lessons.
it sucks, i can see how
everyone is so much pain they are blinded by their anger, and they
think nobody CARES and that caring is irrelevant. i would love to make
caring look strong again.
that's why i like logan, he really cares about them all, especially
her.
i
could have a heart attack and drop dead waiting for bad guys to beat
up.
i would rather do something like educate people, or be really
compassionate towards someone who needs it too much to ask.
heart
hurts, heart works. basic equation for keeping in touch with who i
really am while Lucifer is lying to everyone doing his damnedest
to keepthe situation loveless.
it's hard but i have to be zen and
remember that love is the way. i am so scared sometimes, but at least i
got feelings. like they don't cost moeny. meanwhile, maybe i can be an
EXAMPLE. imagine that, a role model. like: be nice. let love be first
in your list of things to do and ways to be. these are just admonitions
to be musyelf. way i see it i only got one anemy, Mister Satan. he
don't love me, safe to say...
lately i have understood why
people scream for death. but it's my foregone conclusion that i got
something to live for. like: nothing is mine except a dream for a
better world, so i can retire, and maybe sit.
but die? yeah,
rigt. logan was there when the red skull went down, along side the
Captain. who knows how long i'll make it. maybe my special power will
not be obvious for another number of years. that clock talks too much.
maybe i can pull the chime out.
(so
what.)
09:02 pm - my toe hurts
weak bitch! ]
you have broken your toe and you can't blame the cat.
now i am lame. well, i was probably
lame in some way before i broke my toe. it sure hurts. hurts like
celibacy.
like:
it has seemed before like the ol' vow of celibacy routine was gonna be
the only way. 'he's bullshit,' they said. well, fake friends...blecch!
now
it is even more necessary, and i can hear them talking shit now, denial
is like that. theynever knew me, they didn;t have time. i wish people
would wake up.
2013: a different time. and of course if anyone
really insists i'm not gonna say no. but of course, desire? well it
would be a happy coincidence. but i will not hold my breath waiting.
and
of course they are too cynical, why do i wanna waste time trying to
squeeze love out of a-- christ what a mess. it's all just a painful
mess and if jealousy doensn't ruin my party (it alreadyhas) i gotta
wait for further changes. and they just will not understand. no, i
can't; my toe hurts. and of course, i am thinkling maybe later satan
will have shut up completely; maybe it will be a better world
they
sauy irt's about strength: i just reall ywanna have a good time, and of
course, suffering is still -- oh well. who am i trying to explain to
anyway?
yeah: i will wait it out. it would be nice tonot
hear the same LIES for like, a few weeks? how peaceful and calm.
breezes, sunshine, and no lies! i might be in the mood. Jessica's not
in the mood, she's a twisted mess and needs recovery time. and so the
chain stretches. pain, and of course...well one day the liars will all
be dead, or have turned over a new leaf. so why not wait? everything
else is just a set-up.
'fuck me.' so we fuck right? later 'you raped me.' but you said fuck
em! 'i had my fingers crossed.'
what a waste of time!
psylocke
defeated the shadowking by remembering who she was, god bless psylocke.
i gotta remember who and WHAT i am too, he's so insidious. it's scary,
and of course his relations are scary too. lies, insinuations (patently
false, just not true!) and they insist that bullshit is living
light...well, i won't miss them.
maybe i will. maybe i will be like: damn, the old lies...nahh.
it's justa transformation. i wish Kathleen were here,but of course, I
am, aren't i?
and slugs! slugs are slimy.
(so
what.)
the doctor is
jonesing for a chance to practice.
key idea this diagnosis:
anarchist verus antichrist.
05:03 am - whatever
antichrist
is evil: not good.
nazi antichrist?
sure, that makes sense,
god's
people are the jews, so antichrist is opponent of god, so it hates the
jews. and so yeah, the jew haters are satanic.
antichrist is
just another word for satan, and does NOT actually 'rule the world'
rather tempts people to acept the false rule as real rule. ultimately,
Guilt and htred are our gifts from Lucifer.
so
like anarchist is free will and even as antichrist attemts to posess my
soul i adhere to the ideas of free will and love so as to be the
opposite of antichrist.
does that make me jesus?
well jesus said 'as i
did so you can do', maybe jesus was trying to tell me something.
meanwhile satan is, well, the lord of lies, so, like, when satan says
stuff, maybe the opposite is always true. got to be careful, because it
(antichrist, satan etc) exists to decieve me, you, anybody else who
wants to live and enjoy love. me personally i know that that whole
stuff about the jews killed jesus is just Satan's evil lies.
where
i am now: hatred is Antichrists way of winning you over, if i become
overwhemed with hate i am losing time i could spend doing loving
things. and everybody who thinks that's 'corny' and not worth their
time, well, they have been overwhemed, in a way, by the Evil one and
like, as long as they think that love and sentimental things are corny
they are like, waste material.
on another level Antichrist is
just hatred and denial and heartlessness, like what is there when love
and the heart are seen as bad things to be avoided.
and so i
have to be on guard against liars, who seek and serve and adhere to the
negative and just hate. because they will try to decieve me and others
who seek love, and so it becomes necessary, NECESSARY to seek love and
healing. there's no closure because the universe never ends, existance
is eternal.
of course existentialism and eternalism are things
some consider philosophically invalid, but they are entitled to think
that. to me
existentialism and
eternalism pretty much say it all, like
if things do not exist and are not eternal, when there is nothing and
everything is gone they can brag to me about how right they were. but
they won't be able to because things will no longer be. like nihilism
has some credulity and exists, but is no like a 'truth' per se.
so
like, if philosophy bores you, maybe you are a true genius and don't
need a bunch of words to try and comprehend what goes on. just because
i use a bunch of words doesn't necessarily mean i am smart, maybe if i
was really smart i would never say anything.
(Starring Cassandra Stone as cassandra Stone.)
she looked at me and said: 'you look so stoic.'
my reply: 'i am stoic.'
'no you aren't,' she says. ugh.
so i ask her what is a stoic?
'well,' she says, 'i guess a stoic wouldn't care much about anything.'
i smile sadly. 'well, to me a stoic sort of cares about everything.'
and
i remember the words for the book of sadness and woe: 'the wise lament
neither for the living or the dead.' and i feel sad for the living and
the dead, because of course, well...i do what i feel, most of the time.
when it seems possible.
sometimes i must wait, maybe it won't be possible.
i
am my own soort of stoic, and there are others like me, we realise that
love is the way and the answer, yet to call us christian would be to
lump us in with people who might reject us because we draw different
judgments.
perhaps we are zen; we think differntly.
the
key is compassion, compassion even for monsters of society who think
they are righteous. compassion for the compassionless, compassion for
people who are full of hate and lies and deny truth over and over--
compassion for
everything existing, compassion for a cat with no balls
who seems to bite a lot.
(so
what.)
05:29 am - Cuntspiracy
like: the 'we hate love' conspiracy.
like: if people were actually to love, like truly love each other, like
a mman and a woman, it would ruin it...
'ruin what?'
like,
if a man and a woman really loved each other, without holding back,
total one hundred percent absolute love, like, that would...
DON'T CAL IT A CUNTSPIRACY
but
God created itself in the form of a vagina, and i said to her,'the
kindgdom of heaven is within you...' she thought i was JOKING...
more
like, wow, what a magical secret, i can allude to it, the real
craziness is the lack, the lack of this certain substance, thing...and
people learn to live without it, it cannot be said that they like it,
theyjust learn to look at living in hatred as right and natural,
negative, bleah. and so i see this, how do i even know?
the idead that I could be a truly loving....SHH! you'll ruin it.
and
then the set up. the tell me who they have me pegged as, then they ask
me to identify myself, waiting for their BLACK MAGIC OF HATRED AND
DECEIT to work its trick. trick, as in tricked, not like david
copperfield or uri geller, more like a rotten trick to play, a lie and
then insisting the lie is truth and then screaming it out loud...but
denial is not the solution. more like i admit that yes, you told a lie,
this is the lie you told. sure was a lie, you are hate filled and full
of dishonesty, is there any hope for you? i doubt it
and then i remain devoted to (shh! DON'T TELL!)
it doesn't hurt, in fat the opposite, in a big way,
it is the opposite of hate, and lies.
does love hate hate?
the other day, and years ago
i said to myself, 'i hate hatred.'
but that is not so true per se, it is just a distilation of the deeper
feeling.
less than all the truth, like, --oh well.
(so
what.)
05:44 am
Antichristspeak
synopsis:
To properly understand the abundant prophecies dealing with Antichrist,
one must first learn the language and define the terms. For example,
the Greek prefix anti has a two-fold meaning: 'opposition to' and
'substitute for.' The Latin term vicar, as in The Vicar of Christ,
means 'representative' and 'substitute' for Christ. It is in this sense
that the Roman Catholic Church readily admits the Pope to be
Antichrist, as Christ on earth. However, the teachings and fruit of the
Popes declare them to be anti or opposed to Christ. The 'secret'
Rapture is exposed as a false teaching as II Thess. 2 is expounded in
detail. The suppression of truth is evidenced in all modern Bible
commentaries of this key passage.
this whole thing about the
popes being antichrist is sort of weird. as if: people wanted to
believe more in antihrist than in christ.
but of course it is
deeper that the popes wanted to represent Christ, but the core of the
teaching had been lost,
here i advocate the intention if
not the action: the INTENTION was to have
a representative of
the god, jesus, someone to fill those gigantic cosmic shoes.
but if
there was an antichrist, it was not the popes, but Constantine, who
deleted the key information, thus setting up the Christian church as a
bunch of killers for jesus, and so to make the pope or the popes as
antichrist is ironically:
to become Judas and the Pharaisees,
and make the Pope your martyr, you would crucify the popes on the cross
of harsh judgment without compassion. they were poor dupes, doing their
best, when constantine had given them a sandwich with no insides, just
bread and no chees, no meat. (ugly metaphor.)
when really the Antichrist all along has been hatred, denial, more like
concepts than any one person.
even
thoughit does seem that the classical flaw of Christianity is to give
The Devil power to destroy all life, to call the devil a genius and a
mastermind with great power, thus taking away power from Christ and the
forces of good.
the whole Christian argument that this world is
a perdition, a Hell, and that salvation comes after death, when of
course, we COULD have had salvation in the flesh, we could have had the
spirit of god in life. but maybe focusing on Antichrist is dangerous,
because we start focusing on hate and evil, and turning away from the
love that Christ was all about. as if we were giving power to 66 and
not believing in The One, or believing that life was just something to
do until death came, and so people saw Christianity as a deathcult.
I
sincerely believe that John Paul really loves all the people in his
ministry, and is simply a man hampered and limited by dogma, dogma that
is almost a barrier for true christ wisdom, dogma that is heretical,
dogma that is truly heretical, or more directly, dogma that is
anti-gnostic.
i say anti-gnostic instead of agnostic, because
agnostic is not the same as saying 'these teachings must be suppressed,
they would give the people too muchpower.' that line of reasoningis
something i camn imagine an Anti-gnostic who wants the Church to rule
at all costs, and to hell with what Yeshua may have said, the Church
must rule in his (not actual) absence.
Like all thepeople
who overemphasize the death of a spiritual entity, when the POINT (tomy
gnostic mind) was that He transcended death, i. e., did not die, is not
dead
Cucifiction Fiction
So christ didn't really die
for your sins, he didn't stay dead, he left his body and went back into
it later and then ascended from heaven, he hasn't been dead, the whole
idea of the second coming is a fallacy because he never went anywhere,.
but of course there IS a truth to the second coming, as suppressed
wisdom that Yeshua taught is becoming unsuppressed. (this i will leave
to others.)
But the whole idea is that they said that Christ
died, died, died...for your sins, and they pressed and emphasized that
part of it. what did he live for? but the dying is overemphasized, so
as to kkep people thinking the way to be like Christ is to die. and of
coruse, most people when the die, they stay dead, Jesus was a magical
example of something other than that. so the argument "the JEWS KILLED
CHRIST' IS AN OBVIOUS nazi lie. who hates the Jews more than the Nazis,
who wants to malign and negatively criticize the Jews more than the
Nazis. arguably, no one, if we have a more obvious representative of
Satanic, Antichrist type forces on earth, it is the Nazis, not the
jews.
Just like the Klansman Daniel Carver, who just says "the
Jews are the devil," well, it's a lie, but he lives the lie, and
repeats it over and over agian. but it's a lie, and Just like Hitler
used propaganda to stimulate anti Jewish feelings, Daniel Craver tells
his same Ku Klux Klan inspired lies over and over.
I don'tcare
HOW white your vestments are, if you preach hate and killingbased on
race, you are only a servant of The Devil. I'm not even sorry to tell
you this.
Of course the danger comes when we start hating the
ones who hate us, they "win' if we become transformed into vengeful
haters. they want to make us like hate-filled servants of 666 and of
course, then love is elsewhere when that happens, not too far away, but
it's not there when we are not...
forgiving those who trespass against us.
we
have been decieved, but not by the Jews. and of course when hatred
predomintates, Satan has but a barrier in our heats that keeps Jesus
out.
(so
what.)
the idea is that
christian and punk actually go together perfectly --
as kurt said in too many ways. he's king, jesus, so the
governments of
death and taxes -- as well as religious hypocrites like phraisees of
themodern day Tipper Gore f teh PMRC and others are utterly not
righteous. they are poseurs.
08:25 pm - destroy all
money now
the
damn niggers and the damn jews and the damn whites and the damn
catholics and the damn humans, damn them not.
damn them not with an
ironic twist of able positivity designed to make the nihilists retch
with the good feelings and jump under moving trucks. and embarass
the racist by forcing them to show what they realy are. bring pyunk
back to where it was -- when you could spt the racists and they
couldn't hide. yeah. i do prefer a punch out to a war. any
day. so let the racists be exposed, give them no way to
hide. expose the pose and let the direct antiracist action make a
differnce. god! punk never dies. SOME people are dea din
their souls. the god in them is dead and has become SAYTAN full of
racist lies. but racist lies are just that. force tem to show through
their pose how full of bad racist vibes they are. let them hang out
wioth teh same people and SUCK.
and bring punk back.
yeah, and destroy all the money. yeah, destroy the money.
ten
we fuck fuck. yeah, fuck fuck with an integral loving hoinesty that
makes the nihilistic slyug brains leave my mother's PLANET and explore
the possibilities of HELL and ROASTING THERE and LEAVE THIS BEAUTIFUL
PLANET YOU HATE FILLED SLUGS.
also, shit fuck and pissfuck shit ass god fuck god.
08:48 am - embryo
the word for the day is
embryo
once
upon a time there was an embryo.
two people wanted to be more but
something actually terrible happened. it was very bad. both are very
unhappy now.
she is saying she's not
unhappy. maybe we are both
equally out of touch with our feelings, maybe we're both equals. what a
flip.
i guess this is worse then
when "ananda" thought she was
preggers and wasn't. i guess. both situations are pretty bead.
is this
what happened to eve and terri too?
the temptation to say that
god hates the world is strong, but i know better.
God:
more like......
god doesn't hate the
world....
the world hates god...
so how is god supposed to
feel?
happy?
i think not......
it's us the world who make
things fucking insane.
Mikal:
i think both: i think and i
feel and i know that tere is a level where
god's feelings are no different from people's feelings, like any time
two people can share the same feelings -- it's more obvious when they
are the transcendant feelings like acceptance and erotic love.
i know fucking is god
God:
(nods)
Post-Structuralists
there
is no post surrealism -- surrealism goes on and on becoming more and
more fractallized...infinite, mise-en-scenes witin mise-en-scenes.
But structure can change -- and cease to be the dictator and the
arbeiter of form- and become a toy...
the Day after Yesterday at
The China Sky Cafe:
The Post-Structuralists
CHARACTERS
Mari
Hank
Renata
Kathleen
Steve
Randal
Mark
Anne
Sally
dedicated to
charles bukowski.
i know there is a heaven for your angel heart
and dedicated to the lame lying assholes of the universe, all the
hatefilled, heartless "people" and the "big set-up" that gives them
seemingly near-infinite power to shit on the beautiful things and smile
cruelly while they do it.
i know why bukowski drank.
to get away from you.
(jump in wherever you like. jing whoa!)
and he did.
stay deceptively cruel, you utter turds.
Maybe something cool will
happen and you wil miss it, somewhere sneering your boring redundant
CRAP about nihilism. Poor charles.
Wow!
There’s no past; there’s no future. There has only ever always been the
ever expanding now. Do you know what illusions are?
There’s no past! there’s no future.
The ever expanding now has always been there.
Think back, think back to
that very first kiss, the excitement. Think back to when she was
dissing you, how small you felt. Think back to when you saw through
hit, how bullshit they were and how full of hate, how little beauty
they had to contribute, it was Now at that time, and I know that later
the time will be now as well.
Right now people are lying furiously to protect their dark secrets.
No past, no future.
Love is…almost real, love threatens to be real. That’s why Bush wants
to destroy the world like the “man” he is, because love is almost real
and that-if that were allowed to happen…do you know the power of love?
Sneer and go away and take your fakeness with you. I say the power of
love and your face twists; sneer of derision and hate? You don’t really
belong here - maybe you do?
I have heard the flapping tongues of hate-filled liars; liars who hated
beauty, hated truth, hated love. I have heard the hate-filled flapping
of their tongues, and I have seen the damage they can to. They twist
things, they hate so much there is no room for anything else in their
tiny philosophies. Every day I die a little, resisting their garbage
sometimes I sit and I say: okay: everything you liars said is true.
And it is for a moment is the end of Orwell’s 1984 in my mind, they lie
and deceive with an urge to render anything beautiful or good a waste.
For a moment every day I remember that Orwell was a shrewd observer and
I become his Smith: anything to get the monsters off my back for a
little while. Sure! Whatever you say, you weird thought police: Satan
is God, Evil is Good…doodoo is cookies. Now go away.
When they are sure they have killed me they retreat again into sulfur;
but inevitably -
I have heard the flapping tongues of hate filled liars, they shit they
fling sticks and splatters.
They lie because they know no other world.
I mutter tikka ha’ olam and evade their nescient dishonesties -
communism and socialism will never ever be remotely anarchistic but the
deceived seem to want to be deceived sometime. So full of hatred.
I syndicalize. I grab little bits from here, little things from there.
To someone who doesn’t know me it looks like I am building a house of
cards or a suit of armor. I am just doing what syndicalists have always
done.
I even borrow from the kabbalist and logician Alice Rosenbaum:
I KNOW
that evil is simply envy or hatred of what is good for its being so
good. I should feel safer as I float in the nectar like goo, the jelly
that is divine mind, yet I-
I have seen Truth, I have heard the voice of
the savior, I have seen the deepest wisdom of the great Zen whore, the
hero who-the ancient of Samsara who has known the truth she is.
I have known her and I have known the denial and arrogance of those who
were her enemies, sometimes the enemies of god are puppeteers, using
human flesh vehicles they get all dragged around and used. But I have
also heard it said that the Dakini are already knowledgeable, they only
question the world to enlighten the as yet unknowing. The Dakini are
many and wise, and the one who saw fit to grab me by the shoulders and
say wake up, her light was too brilliant and compassionate, the heart
of the earth; that light that shines on the ignorant who blind remain
so - yet every now and then a child awakens inside the jaded and
ancient, every now and the enlightenment threatens, beckons -
The sky teacher came and left to go elsewhere while the asuras
inhabited the people who screamed bullshit in her face. Nonetheless she
was calm and resolute, the Dakini, in the face of their denials. She as
beautiful and good like nefer-tiri.
I won’t tell her story, I will tell my story of her, of
her elegant legs and her open giving rainbow heart - while the ones who
crucified her continue to prosper with lies as their fuel - I will tell
you story of my guru and everything after while the demon-possessed who
put her to death wail in hate-filled denial.
They get a mention too, even though they roil in hatred and abnegation
profound. I will. I will tell you the story of my Chinese Sky Teacher
because she was beautiful.
Looking for an objective narrative, a dry account of her actions? Look
elsewhere, scan the news. I will tell you - a story - you might catch a
glimpse of her message if your heart is W*rking at all.
If you are like
the demonically possessed that hate their own hearts and yours, the
ones who grinned like lying demons while her corpus melted on the spit
for their dinner, than this tale might be something you would rather
skip.
I daresay there’s a game on.(remember: you were warned. Bobdammit.
THE DAY AFTER YESTERDAY
You will
now be taken to the post. alchemy of the failed warm. orange skin.
sweat. chinese eyes. no replacement parts. open hearted memory, i never
have to show you my wound my bleeding gash is your broken dusty mirror
and i will always be your friend anyway even if i quit smoking.
--
the void has been selected. i am being taken to the post to whip myself
RAW. i teeer up for ewe cause i know they will rip you unless you
show fear.
mean people ROOL, if you listen you can hear their slathering hatred if
you show that your brain works they lose
i am being taken
to the post for more whipping
i wish dead massa was in de cole, cole groun. i am being taken to the
post. EYE have selected the Void.
----- a riddle
bluer than blue
not quite purple but swell
who are we?
(or not--it really is a choice.)
Now my friends Renata and Hollobecque - they are peace activists. They
are also a little insane - they smoke absinthe and opium…
They understand why the three of us here in our little non-commune
don’t protest - the general wave of young Socialists and Communists
create more enmity than peace.
Renata and Holly are surrealists, Dadaist in the old way.
They made huge light projections in the window of their warehouse --
beautiful, horrible light pictures on the window, that people could see
as they drove by.
Renata and Holly are rather creepy in their anti-social behavior. They
faked their own deaths to avoid phone calls. Rather extreme but they
are Dadaists…
I like the Dada ideal but I am rational.
All art has aesthetic value to me but I prefer Vasarely, Mondrian…my
role models are far beyond my current level of painting ability!
I’m lucky to have the friendship of Steve and Mari - I have never sold
a painting, while Mari is constantly having openings and Steve is
becoming internationally famous as a photographer.
“Henry. Henry! Did you hear me? God! That pisses me off!”
calmly; “you said,” I replied with a Gemini’s way of doing two things
at once without worry - “that the Government is like a serpent, or a
vampire.“
I licked the glue. Tightened the cigarette.
“Oh . Well, there they go.” She sat the cup in front of me.
“here you go, cutie.” She twinkled at me. I looked up. “Thank
you.”
Mari’s pretty sharp. The slightest flaw stands out to her. “Hank, is
something wrong? You are acting really weird.”
I smiled. “I’m fine…fine. I am just, ah, still considering your
question. And I guess - (first I wanted to tell them the truth but I
knew they wouldn’t listen. Then I tried to involve metaphors and they
called me a liar. This serves no one.) - I guess got lost in the…
”we were looking back and forth between each other and the screen.
“God, the picture looks so bleak.”
“I should turn it off. But damn! We should pay attention…”
“Well,” I said after a sip of good, pretty good!-- coffee--
“war is definitely not NOT the meaning of life.”
Why have competition?? Alas, we’re all conditioned.
She sat down, crossed her legs.
“oh, I don’t know.”
She was being facetious; I indulged her. Her way of letting off steam
is often to crack a joke. “Sometimes nothing gets the job done better.”
Mari’s quite the joker.
But I was stunned mentally by the scene on the screen, the plumes of
orange flashing smoke rising over Baghdad.
And just like that Mari looked at me, and surveyed my inner environment
from the look of my face or something - we had been lovers those two
years - “are you sure nothing is bothering you? Whatever’s on your mind
you have the right to keep your opinions to yourself…but you’d feel
better…your worry wrinkles…I can see them…”
I gruffed. “makes a man look distinguished.”
(or anguished.)
“Mari…you just asked me what the meaning of life was…then you told me
you knew it…fascists are killing Amercans on the news-I mean, in the
desert-God! Yes, I do have some…uh…so what is the meaning of life?”
“Turning the tables on me, eh? Well, I asked you first, punkin’.”
Not to wince…I thought hard about Leonard Nimoy and kept a deadpan
expression. “Oh-kay then.” I blew a cloud of smoke into the air. “The
meaning of life is…subjective.”
“Oh, you dog. You sly fucker. For once a straight answer-wait.” Mari
brushed hair out of her face.
She put out my eye with her wedding ring; it plopped into my
coffee. I stared at it. It stared back accusatorially and then turned
away to contemplate the bottom of Mari’s Hello Kitty mug. I let it
pass; the disconnected, floating eyeball staring with characteristic
balefulness had more integrity than I at that moment.
why? Why would she call me punkin’? that’s what she used to call me….
Hey.
wait. i got a nuke 'em plane.
While
my left eye floated in the in the coffee, staring accusative out of the
cup, Mari kept talking.
“So the meaning of life is subjective to you, relative, like the speed
of light.
I would have blown you off but I realized you have actually presented a
consistent theory…hmm..” she sipped coffee daintily. “I remember you
used a word I don’t hear every day; multifarious. So you really believe
that life has more than one meaning?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I think there is only one meaning of life.”
“Well, what is it?”
“But that’s just me! Like I said, I’m not God. I’m weird, my attitudes
are weird-“
“That’s true enough.”
I played through.
“And frankly my meaning of life definition is tinted by my life
experience…your mileage may vary.”
I sipped coffee. “I don’t know if yours is false, there’s -“ “oh god,
not that!”
Mari interrupted me.
We both then stared at the scene on the screen. Smoke and doom floated
above Iraq while guys sang on the radio about everything being okay…
“this is terrible. Oh, shit! Mari winced as an explosion plumed on the
screen. It was day in Baghdad but the sky was dark.
As I looked I thought; I hate revenge. So empty. So empty.
because
of what could have been happening with
mari. She straddled me like -- like she straddled me. And can a woman
really be sexually selfish? Is that just how I want to see it?
And it was obvious that this was their revenge, this was my
government’s response to the destruction of the World Trade Center a
year and a half previous. I had voted for the Democratic candidate and
been really pissed. I was sure that if he had won - the Democrat - that
September Eleventh 2001 would have just been another day. But it had
been a day like hell on Earth in New York, although Holly, who I’d been
crashing with, had cheered the destruction of what he called “The World
Greed Center.”
Hollobecque-
“Yes! Finally, victory for freedom and truth! Damn. That’s disgusting.”
Henry Salk woke up. He had been out in a drunken haze on the couch.
Blearily he focused on the televison. “What the hell is that?”
“maybe it’s the beginning of the new age. Looks like some assholes have
blown up the World Greed Center.”
“What? Oh God.”
The Canadian reporter, Jennings calmly yet tensely reported the facts;
the burning skyscraper said it all. Salk woke up quickly.”
“No…all the people…”
Henry crawled across the floor and sat crosslegged in front of the
ancient Zenith. It was too much…the sky over Manhattan black with soot.
He turned to ask a clarifying question to his friend Hollobecque, and
was shocked to see him performing a merry dance in the living room.
“What…”
Then he turned back to the screen, remembering that Hollobecque smoked
absinthe.
“Fucking nut,”
he thought…then he turned back.
“How the hell can you - what are sick? Do you know what just happened?”
But Hollobecque was dancing madly on the toes of his feet singing chava
negileh.
“Hey! People are dead! HEY!!”
Hollobecque was a playwright, but he disdained that word, and fancied
himself a dramatist. He turned, a crazed grin on his face, and ran
across the warehouse floor to slide on his knees like a burlesque
huckster until he bumped gently into Henry’s leg like a cue ball
kissing the eight.
“Do you know how many people died of starvation today, Henry, my buck?
Do you bite your thumb, sir? I do.” And he childishly stuck his thumb
in his mouth and bit the end.
“I do. I do bite my thumb sir, ah yes I do!”
Henry stared in the fog of hung over semi comprehension…
”But…”
But Hollobecque was on a tear. He ran and hit a switch on the wall,
electric Christmas lights switched on flashing green gold, red, while,
blue…he opened his mouth and declared in a frightening bass:
“oh say can you seeeee…any roaches on meeee…if you doooo…take a
few….cause I got them from yoooooooooo.”
And with this he turned to point directly at Henry, who sat dazed.
“I mourn every day, Salk, I mourn every day for the millions who starve
while the fat and arrogant praise their way of life. I could go check
the net, but I don’t need to! Every single damned day,” he paused for a
breath,
“every single god damned day 20, 000 people die of starvation.
Children, Salk!
"
And that building that burns on screen is where people who HATE YOU AND
ME plan the death by economic torture of those people. Those starving
thousands are crucial to their capitalistic doctrine of economic
GENOCIDE,”
he fairly roared, his eyes bloodshot and bulging. ‘I will light a
candle for the innocent but I will throw a party! A wild winesoaked
party for the spitefilled dead economists who hate my ancestors and the
poor! I hope to god the President was in there.”
This was too much for me to deny OR accept. And I was recalling it -
because after I sobered up and got drunk again it made so much more
sense. It still seemed like Holly was praising the death of
innocents…but I knew in the back of my mind that he was not, not at
all. He was saying something else…
And I hated revenge, I hated the Devil, who my analyst, a Jungian,
confides to me is a Scorpio with Aries rising, the devil who glories
when people go mad with the vengeful blood fever that I had watched
take over the United States as if it were Germany and the year were
1938.
But Holly is a Dadaist.
BUT ALLEN GINSBERG HAS ALREADY KILLED THEM WITH THE
SLOW "FIE!" OF TIME
BUT ALLEN GINZBERG HAS THEIR HEADS ON PIKES
BUT ALLEN GINZBERG IS IN HEAVEN MEDITATING LIKE AND WITH TEH ANGELS AND
THEY
ARE VENAL JERKS
Hunter Thompson killed himself
to get away from the John Papadpoopolous' of
the world.
i have to say "John" cause there is another greek yanni and he
may
actually be cool.
and basically yanni is a satanic nerd. anyway --
I was
horrified at the loss of life.
I was horrified. Is it just and only insanity that makes men blow
themselves and others up for - what? Religion?
I thought this while Mari grasped my hand with her non lethal hand, the
one with no wedding ring --
I didn’t like the Republicans.
But I liked the assasins even less.
Least of all I liked what I was seeing now. Baghdad looked like a hell,
as much as Manhattan had on that terrible day.
Interlude: Growl
Hopeful, hopped up, blind in the mind They were killing but not for
jesus. They were murderers for Moloch.
Moloch! Arch Devil, Lord of Owners, Blind and idolatrous, hater of
Semites, bloodthirsty killer!
Ice in your veins, spiders and crabs crawling in your skull
You blind and idolatrous King.
You think you own everyone.
Earth is jail and you’re the warden.
The most conniving of Devils, ancient Antigod
Full of lies and hatred, you are set upon your throne
And eviler devils put you there. Children died today.
Burning, crushed by stones. Damn, you’re smooth.
Love is Illegal, oh Moloch! In your evil empire
In you’re your nescient empire of of false riches and evil righteousness
Moloch the malevolent. Manchild thighs hang from your lip.
MOLOCH. You rule with a skeletal hand. Six score sixty and six
Are your days numbered.
The prophet Ginsberg predicted your reign
And oh, what a reign! A reign of death and deception.
Little children. Women. Moses saw a burning Bush
Lucky us. We get a goofy monkey governor.
Here in Pluto’s Republic things only seem to belong to you.
(parable, metaphor,allegory)
In a dry wet dream Yeshua appeared to me as a Chinese whore
But I knew it was Him by the bleeding gashes, the holes in his hands
And Yeshua said to me;
“My dad can whip his dad. Don’t worry.”
I’m glad I can’t see the future, you jew hating fascist.
I WANT to be surprised. I can see the obvious though. You’re
A crook like Nixon, Moloch. We’ll get our country back from you.
Bush the Terrible, evil as hell, full of dumb hatred,
Even your wife and kids despise you. Most spiteful son of Man.
The Arabs will fall in love with the Israelis just to displease you,
you set- up artist.
Your evil long - range plans are too obvious. Your granddaddy
was a Moloch too, you simpering Nazi emperor. Judah, Benjamin. Simeon.
Manasseh. Napthali,
Abraham and Moshe are in heaven, baby,
Glad you lost your invite in the mail.
So while you lie to our fellow Americans, Moloch,
You goofy monkey, usurper of office, liar, cheat, murderer
Coke snorting Nazi
Have a nice day!
War is Hell. You’re in charge.
What does that make YOU, President Einstein?
tired of it.
tired of meeting beautiful intelligent “i hate life and must die
tomorrow” combo
too many
life is out of balance
not not NOT YOUR FAULT!!!
I want to find that guy and smack him hard i want to smack that lizard,
i can't help it! this savage pain. and i am a freak but not for that
reason, being caring makes me real it makes me human
tired of seeing the people who slip out of bed and into their body bag
day after day
zombies,.
‘cause evil lizards hate beauty and intelleckchewalls
they earn none of my respect. i will never be their fuckhole again
they lie and lie and that is why
the angels want to puke and die
they lie and i am sick, sick, sick.
and the lizards are lying now
if you listen you can hear the assholes lying lying to each other
lying to themselves
lying to you
telling you to shut up and stop that damn thinking.
she said i am so in the grave with my hands folded and
i overheard so i turned to look and see what
had died. and it was a crime it was a sin against
god that the fragile flowers wilt when the
sun is harsh and unloving. that is not the sun,
that is the antisun the solar anus of the
wedged up things, they lie and do not love
but damn the long con.
and the long con is a winner and they sucked her in, i know they sucked
her in
and THERE THEY GO LYING AGAIN
this sadism of hating the lovely flower is not cool,
wake up and smell the
shit encrusted assholes who hate you
cause you’re beautiful
they will still hate you if you join them
then they will own you
wake up
wake u
wake
wak
wa
w
__________________
INTERLEWD #143:
Cardinal Square
he
knew too much
he felt like he knew too much. only sometimes.
also
at times he thought that he had become too easily provoked, to soft and
easily hurt. "too sensitive" was the call he'd heard, more than once,
and that wound up hurting his feelings too. was i born hurt? he asked
himself. do i have a traget on me or something?
he wondered.
whether or not it's wise or good to cloak one's self in a sense of
humor, laughing at almost everything sometimes, it's what i've done,
now and that's just it, it's what i've done.
he was too worried, he estimated himself harshly. he liked to close his
eyes and look into the hidden mirror to see.
sometimes
he wondered if his biggest problem was just being human. he started
wondering...is there any problem that i have that almost every person
doesn't also have? maybe my condition is the human condition, he
queried himself.
he queried himself and set off on a long journey, not even sure if he
knew where he was going.
and
he scribbled tersely, in small capitals, in a notebook. he huddled at a
train station, in a misty morning with coffee cooling on the concrete
at his side, and as he scribbled he thought about the meeting of
straight lines that made up the letters L, T, and H. And he hadn't
cried that day, not yet! but a genle mist fell. not quite rain and yet
more than fog.
THERE ARE DIFFERENT SORTS OF CRIES. WAS IT
YESTERDAY? HAD A DECENT CRY. IT WAS LIKE A HOT TRICKLE, AND PRETTY
STEADY, THE WAY M. USED TO PUT ON THE HOT WATER TO DO DISHES. OR LIKE
MY EYEBALL WAS PISSING. I SAT THERE IN A CHAIR AT THE SHELTER AND CRIED
REAL QUIETLY, I WASN'T SOBBING OR ANYTHING. BUT IT WAS A STEADY TRICKLY
AND I REMEMBER THINKING THAT IT WAS REALLY HOT, THE ONE STEADY STREAM
OF TEAR THAT RAN DOWN THE SIDE OF MY FACE.
BUT THERE ARE DIFFERENT KINDS OF WEEPS.WAITING AT CARDINAL SQUARE
i am waiting for the train to take me crosstown. there are great cafes
here. and i am sad, yes, sad and having no desire, at present, to
pretend i feel any other way.
i
am not trapped in this sadness tho. i am just letting myself feel it.
it represents a change from my Hawkeye phase. And i needed Hawkeye
around for a long time. He was less like an imaginary friend and more
like a surrogate father of memory. the whole thing of joking rather
than going insane as i wandered through the hell of mankind's
looathsome creation. i wasn't in Korea during a war, i was just living
in the big city. but the feelings were mutual. worry.
as i squat
here at Cardinal Square waitig for the train i am struck by- no, not
the train- it's not that sort of story- i am struck by the split i feel
in myself- the split between wanting to pursue the path of least
resistance in all things, and the desire to be a resistor like Hannah
Senesh, or even Mel Brooks in To Be Or Not To Be. Damn, Hamlet already?
I just got here.
Also i am squatting here, leaning against the brick
wall of the train station, waiting. At least Cardinal Square is a
pretty place.
I am not even going crosstown for any fixed reason. just to ride the
train, to feel the rhythm of a train --
but
i don't need to get on the train. i have no work and money in my
pocket. i could hang out here at the square all day if i wanted to. i
did yesterday. and today's date says it all: december 26.
december
26, 1999. what could the future hold. i sometimes wish i could see the
future, but what would i do with that kind of responsibility? play the
horses?
so i spent xmas at the homeless shelter and it was okay.
i had a good cry. it was one hot tear that ran down my face, it just
seemed to keep pumping and pumping out, it was a steady stream of tear.
more of a slow leak than a flood. they were singing in the big room,
they were singing songs, and they were merry. but i was missing her and
missing her so deeply--
it has been ten years!
i have
spent all this time missing her so deeply that i have almost totally
sublimated the herness of her in my memory. little things remind me of
her. sometimes big things. things in general remind me of her and she
was not even my wife in this life. why ever pursue another
relationship, why look for anything better? better than/worse than is
one of the big illusions like capitalism. it's a great, potent
illusion. a real illusion. it works really well.
and also the
illusionof: a girl comes down the street, i see her round the corner as
i am halfway down the block. god, i think, is that her? and i flush and
my pulse quickens and finally, finally after all this time and i get
closer and it is some other woman completely, dressed in a hood and a
scarf. there is some resemblance but this woman is a stranger to me.
and i am embarassed because i was scanning the face part of her
intensely and we are both embarased by this. but it was not her, it was
not M. and so i keep walking. obsession supression is how i have kept
it almost together, and she is without fault in this.
i somehow managed to get to the age of thirty-one and still wind up
confused about the nature of love, what love is.cardinal square
this is good tea. it is the tea of memory, the prfect red rose that i
know how to make for myself.
mother
introduced me to tea. and we even had our unorthodx american tea
ceremony at the age of four for me and twenty-three for her. red rose
tea, evaporated milk. maybe a little too much sugar. it's good!
and
without nichiren and my mom i would maybe be a little too dead to be
telling about it. without nichiren i would maybe be a ghost, in heaven
or wherever one goes, i go, when i go.
i have few delusions
about dying and going to hell anymore. and people tell me to, with
frequence. go to hell, larsen, they have told me many times. but hell?
to me?
hell to me is where i have been since she said no for
the last time and closed every door to her heart that once was open to
me. hell is whereever i have existed, tortured by the fires of utter
denial, since i blew it with her. a hell of having no one to blame,
nothing to do but realise that it is quite...profoundly...over.
i
guess i had a happy christmas. i am not a strict buddhist. to monks and
scholars my views, attitudes and behaviors would be profoundly wrong,
almost with accuracy. but i need nichiren in my life anyway, i need the
comfort of that mantra as i go through this life that for many is
heaven yet for me is quite hell. and of course it would be profoundly
absurd for me to invite her to join me.
the train pulls up.
stops. it's one of those talking trains, and as it stops and the doors
open in announces the station. "Cardinal--Square." and people get out.
it's
a misty morning. i actually don't even feel like getting on the train
just yet. it's not like i know anyone. this tea is good but i have to
stop squatting. old knees ain't what they used to be. i sit down on the
concrete. i can still lean against the wall.
a tip about
loitering: the key is not really being offensive. two loiterers can be
at the same station: loiterer a is hassling people, belching in their
faces and screaming about the news. loiterer b is sitting calmly,
m,aybe listening to the radio. neither are wrong in their expression
but loiterer a's chances of attracting the scrutiny of the transit
security and being asked to leave are far higher....it could happen
while loiterer a sat, listening to my tunes, thinking that the fuzz
shoul djust leave the poor guy alone.
so here i am at
Cardinal Square. will i fight the bad guys or wait for them to run out
of steam? wil i smash the state or watch it smash itself? that's the
dilemna of this man, ridiculous larsen who has given up on romance and
contemplates The Struggle. and the dilemna wants me to drink. tea in
the morning, after noon it's booze til bedtime. i could ride this edge
for awhile.
it's more than just looking for trouble. trouble's
everywhere. i want to fix the trouble and not waste my efforts or my
life, so i just think about Hamlet, Hannah Senesh and Mel Brooks and
wonder what 2000 will be like.
after all there is the big
computer crisis scare. people are losing their shit! i actually heard
someone say on the radio last night that "we should invade Canada and
take their food before the computers go down." Y2K. "And the KY, too,"
Sandra Berhard added, wittily.
I really have to stop falling in
love. But i really have to stop falling in love with gay girls. There'
a problem that arises--