Taking Out The Good Whisky For Whatshisface
I am it's me. No fucking, I can't be alone for a fucking minute. So I’ll just tell those guys tomorrow?? …fucking, we’ll see.
I just can’t. The fiending. It is desperate, every day, every hour, the morning high, the late afternoon, the 4 am. Every day, a fucking dose, a pint, and a pack. The needs of that day, as all others. The ride to feed the impulse they cannot control, the resentment that grows with the drooling “on the nod,” the belligerent falling down drunks at 80. How old are you?
I can’t deal with this conversation right now. I need to work now. I need to hide your voice under something, behind some wall. “The sight of you sickens me,” as my mom would say.
Happy Go Lucky, shopping cart pace through the town, long dress and beehive hair. If I lose the long battle of self-definition and the exerting of identity onto the world, what impression do I really care to make after 40? It’s a tease, it’s a shameless bait and switch personality, confronting the world with a wide false smile. Blinded by the glimmer, so as to never see the person behind the wall of incisors.
Audio Recording Started, 8:30PM 8.10.22
I met him, I met your dead son and loved him. I met your dead girlfriend and loved her. I met and killed your entire family last Thursday. Thoughts and prayers.
If I could ever know my place, with confidence of purpose and directed intention, I could know less than anyone, I am sure of it. I could leave this plane in a controlled way, leave and come back as I please, one foot in each world. If it were possible to make a place in our society for that skillset and its mastery, what would that occupation look like? A busy hospital, there among the champions of Western medical science? No, I don’t think there would be much crowding or waiting room Sports Illustrated magazine subscriptions. What is the competitive nature of shamanism and those greatest athletes of consciousness? Could living saints be adored and revered as a black NFL quarterback star, making millions upon millions to face opponents on the gridiron for our entertainment? The gladiator prisoners sacrificed to the pits as Rome fell rose alongside the civilization's decline, the empire's decay. Decadence is a cultural development signifying the end of empires, in general. What have I allowed myself to become, overtaken by pettiness and the collection and storage of slights. Does that state of consciousness, or the behavior that surfaces from it, signify health? The many layers of our being, mind, body, and spirit. They all fall into or out of alignment at once, as the many interconnected systems, physical, parasympathetic, and electrochemical bodies. I am taken away from others, to resign to an inward throne of ascendant meditation, above it all with long focused breath and the inward upward direction of attention. If the site permission letter is adequate to open the ayahuasca sessions of the UDV to more intensive psychometric testing, I feel that science could capture one or more aspects of the anomalous electromagnetic phenomena surrounding the spiritual experiences common to an ayahuasca ceremony. Exceptional Human Experiences (EHEs) are often rare, compared to the wider population of North American that share my culture. Take me to the woods, take me to the river. Take me away from these loud lights and screens. I am lessened by them, again and again. My attention span, like those around me, is significantly affected by social media and the barrage of notifications and endless feeds. Stimuli always waiting, so I need never contend with myself again. The dullness that settles into a room of contentedly entertained people, day after day, until the subtle art and skill of social interaction and written expression is lost to the memes, the incredible strength of the media, addictive, designed and built like fast food to hijack our biology and profit from our instinctual and unconscious drives. I’ll never, I’ll always. I’ll retire, I’ll bust into that place, ready to fight for my “babies,” whatever they may be. I guess I gotta get back out there.
I forgot the auto level ON step of recording the drunken belligerence of the kitchen table. Myself included, I want to take a sociological, almost anthropological, view of the words being spoken, here. Unable to show emotion, unable to give attention, unable to provide meaning or value to society. I can’t paste or cut these lazy threads of association. They are primed by my place, by this environment and its culture. I wish I could please the hungry, and provide what they cannot for themselves. I wish I could forever maintain the innocence of positivity, hope, and faith, without the critical perception and the harsh truth it inflicts. If not a mother then a father, if not a sister then a brother. If it is not possible to find a path in this family, I will find a path in myself. The self-reliant individualism of American culture is defined in opposition to the establishment, to the King, to the Pope, to the status quo. This individualism permits gross and inhumane behavior from the super-rich, the voices of whom are valued above all others.
I just can’t. The fiending. It is desperate, every day, every hour, the morning high, the late afternoon, the 4 am. Every day, a fucking dose, a pint, and a pack. The needs of that day, as all others. The ride to feed the impulse they cannot control, the resentment that grows with the drooling “on the nod,” the belligerent falling down drunks at 80. How old are you?
I can’t deal with this conversation right now. I need to work now. I need to hide your voice under something, behind some wall. “The sight of you sickens me,” as my mom would say.
Happy Go Lucky, shopping cart pace through the town, long dress and beehive hair. If I lose the long battle of self-definition and the exerting of identity onto the world, what impression do I really care to make after 40? It’s a tease, it’s a shameless bait and switch personality, confronting the world with a wide false smile. Blinded by the glimmer, so as to never see the person behind the wall of incisors.
Audio Recording Started, 8:30PM 8.10.22
I met him, I met your dead son and loved him. I met your dead girlfriend and loved her. I met and killed your entire family last Thursday. Thoughts and prayers.
If I could ever know my place, with confidence of purpose and directed intention, I could know less than anyone, I am sure of it. I could leave this plane in a controlled way, leave and come back as I please, one foot in each world. If it were possible to make a place in our society for that skillset and its mastery, what would that occupation look like? A busy hospital, there among the champions of Western medical science? No, I don’t think there would be much crowding or waiting room Sports Illustrated magazine subscriptions. What is the competitive nature of shamanism and those greatest athletes of consciousness? Could living saints be adored and revered as a black NFL quarterback star, making millions upon millions to face opponents on the gridiron for our entertainment? The gladiator prisoners sacrificed to the pits as Rome fell rose alongside the civilization's decline, the empire's decay. Decadence is a cultural development signifying the end of empires, in general. What have I allowed myself to become, overtaken by pettiness and the collection and storage of slights. Does that state of consciousness, or the behavior that surfaces from it, signify health? The many layers of our being, mind, body, and spirit. They all fall into or out of alignment at once, as the many interconnected systems, physical, parasympathetic, and electrochemical bodies. I am taken away from others, to resign to an inward throne of ascendant meditation, above it all with long focused breath and the inward upward direction of attention. If the site permission letter is adequate to open the ayahuasca sessions of the UDV to more intensive psychometric testing, I feel that science could capture one or more aspects of the anomalous electromagnetic phenomena surrounding the spiritual experiences common to an ayahuasca ceremony. Exceptional Human Experiences (EHEs) are often rare, compared to the wider population of North American that share my culture. Take me to the woods, take me to the river. Take me away from these loud lights and screens. I am lessened by them, again and again. My attention span, like those around me, is significantly affected by social media and the barrage of notifications and endless feeds. Stimuli always waiting, so I need never contend with myself again. The dullness that settles into a room of contentedly entertained people, day after day, until the subtle art and skill of social interaction and written expression is lost to the memes, the incredible strength of the media, addictive, designed and built like fast food to hijack our biology and profit from our instinctual and unconscious drives. I’ll never, I’ll always. I’ll retire, I’ll bust into that place, ready to fight for my “babies,” whatever they may be. I guess I gotta get back out there.
I forgot the auto level ON step of recording the drunken belligerence of the kitchen table. Myself included, I want to take a sociological, almost anthropological, view of the words being spoken, here. Unable to show emotion, unable to give attention, unable to provide meaning or value to society. I can’t paste or cut these lazy threads of association. They are primed by my place, by this environment and its culture. I wish I could please the hungry, and provide what they cannot for themselves. I wish I could forever maintain the innocence of positivity, hope, and faith, without the critical perception and the harsh truth it inflicts. If not a mother then a father, if not a sister then a brother. If it is not possible to find a path in this family, I will find a path in myself. The self-reliant individualism of American culture is defined in opposition to the establishment, to the King, to the Pope, to the status quo. This individualism permits gross and inhumane behavior from the super-rich, the voices of whom are valued above all others.