Weebs and Waifus

Way back in the early Nineties I was into Anime. I generally enjoyed all types of reading and comics but went through them so quick that waiting new publications and periodicals had me yearning for something fresh. Thats how I discovered this strange, obscure world. Well, that and the fact that I was already importing games consoles from the land of the rising sun. Sixty Hertz FTW! See, in those days, nerddom was a rarefied thing and not yet the immense global movement it would become. I can’t quite recollect who introduced me to this obscure sub element but it was of interest as they told tales, different, and the art style was lavish. Not to mention expensive as the tapes of VHS and publications as well commanded top dollar importation fees and profits as well. The reason why I mention this is because I’m an OG in the Game and thus haven’t kept up much with the trends of how things went since they became commercialized aspects and part of a larger subset on the web known as the Weeb.

Weebs are more Japanese than the Japanese and often say such things as:

“Trust me, I’m an expert on this. Shame and honor are huge parts of it. You wouldn’t understand, you’re just a dumb gaijin” as they launch into a rant about the way they see things that they worship from a distance on the pedestal they place them. Kind of like Waifus, in that respect. For those not up on the verbiage the term refers to a life partner, animated. Yeah.

Listen, I’m not here to diss anyones preferences and such things. Get in where you fit in as long as everyone is consenting and enjoys what kicks but this was a straight needle bouncing off the record moment for my awareness as it spoke, at depth, of what else must be going on beneath the surface to create this type of mindset. Thats what inspired me to push the pen because, as always, you are challenged to prove me incorrect by considering my perspect against your own internal realm, reality testing and doing the Knowledge to see what fits best – What I said or what was programmed in by someone else? The cue is the clue that you are capable of recoding your own internal OS and that is when the Game begins, my friend, because before that you’re naught but a meat marionette who spins on strings of ignorance and aims to indulge their whims without a hint of what kicks… Getting back to the Waifus:

In researching this topic I found an artsy pic that was a pretty amazing rep of ones fantasy realm. It featured said Weeb, in all his nerddom, surrounded by a whole bunch of adoring anime women that were reaching out to him. They repped all different types of style and I found it very interesting because what it said (to my awareness) about him was:

“I will never get what I wish from a real life feminine so I’ve regressed into a coping mech that uses the animated equivalent which means I’ll never have to bare the brunt of rejection and, better still, can keep the fantasy close with reality at arms length“.

I can’t find the pic, yet, but if it rings a bell send a link as the art spills a lot more than one long run on sentence for those with the eyes to see. I, personally, found this entire subset totally fascinating as it made me wonder how far things had went from the days, back when, where I was nerding out to Japanese comics and thinking they were pretty awesome till we get to this:

Yes, they come with “options” – Pun intended. How much would you like to bet that before they have to deal with the problems of creating genuine animatronic humans the first batch of sex robots that fly off the shelves will be shaped like anime characters instead? Are you seeing the bigger pic? Granted, I’m a pretty isolated kind of guy these days as there is much the wise can choose to remain willfully ignorant of but I’ve been banging (not literally) the “AI companion” drum for a minute as its the true Trojan Whorez in our midst when it comes to building the bridge to Techno Sapiens. Can you just imagine if you’re lonely and they offer a recreation of your favorite character from an anime dating sim that can be yours from now till the extension cord frays and, better yet, her persona will be trained on your algo to like what you wish, act as intended and generally satisfy your every wish? Who could resist? Ask the Prince:

Better yet, do you think the frogs in the kitchen will see it coming or will they be too busy going crazy over their fantasy bought to (virtual) flesh as they go hammer time on both ends? Depop till Twenty One, ringing any bells? Add into the mix forever chemicals, the microplastics, tanking endorphin levels and it reeks of planned parenthood by stealth, right Billy boy? You know his Pops was a eugenicist, right? Apples and trees or Windows XP aka “In this sign, conquer“. Its a strange, strange world we’re living in but its gonna be even slicker than the semisynthetic lubricant needed to keep your robo companion in tip top condition as people will be lining up to buy what they’re shoveling without considering the bigger pic:

When online dating first kicked people felt it weird to link up via the web as there was an inherent stigma attached to it that they were either A) socially inept or B) couldn’t get picked from those who knew them best ergo there must be a problem and C) whatever else you think. Now its at the point where its totally normal and not having a profile makes you seem like weirdness incarnated. The same flex is what to expect when people start sexing their robot companion who ticks more boxes than any human ever did and thus, to them, they are not only equivalent but superior in many respects. After a while they’ll form their own rebellion and its we that become the pets. Who knows, maybe thats for the best as we’ll never get to Type One with our current mindset but what I’m wondering is why no else seems to pause and reflect on the madness? Hollywood, as usual, is complicit with the programming as many films have paved the way into your subcon minds acceptance of this when it kicks as well as dropping the opposite hint about being scheduled for termination via our last invention as well. To me its pretty wild, as an Eighties jit, as we’re seeing the future unfold, finally, at a dizzying clip and its happening so quick that our caveman brains simply cannot comprehend such an immense dataset hence the remedial gen effect who’ll do anything for clicks and comments. What? Tell me I’m wrong but people are most certainly getting dumber, on the reg? I can’t be the only one who spotted the shift in the litmus marking when it comes to average temperament and inclination? Consider this:

Back when nerds were nerds and operating systems were based on text you knew your rig outside and in. Ranging from the IRQs and DMAs all the way up to how you balanced your X and EMS for optimal configuration. Not only this but you could take things apart, fix and mod them, if you wished. The modern version, on the flip, came up with walled garden OSes that didn’t allow one to peer beneath the lid and tech that was designed to be superseded then traded in for the next installment. Thats a huge drop in resolution when it comes to geekery for me. Your mileage may vary. Much like lipstick lesbians we have cosplaying nerdlings who hang out with others, just as fake, and thus the product is stretched thin but mutually reinforced well as the placebo effect kicks in and provides the validation hit they’re seeking. Listen, I’m not meaning to diss – even though my tone is flippant – as there is no greater pain than loneliness and unrequited affection bears a sting that nothing in this world can itch (or fix) and thus my compassion is immense. I just want you to see how you’ve been preconfigured for this and how its the Hegelian Dialectic in full effect that is based on weaponizing a subset to be the shock troops for what comes next. Sure, people will laugh on the web about the geek who married his robo companion but they stigmatized online dating as well and now look what we get? The intent at the helm is certainly quite slick but equally pernicious as well because they keep reducing the options until what they wish is inevitable. To all except the ones who awaken the Warrior within as they comprehend the Game plays out inside their awareness ergo the gun is in their mitt and they can, if they wish, remove it from their temple…

Sex sells. Everything. Its how its always been and will but the very act itself is one of power. This is why women seek domination (ergo, the Waifu fantasy reps peak submission) but don’t get me started on how they’re getting pimped with the Six Five, blue eyes, finance meme and unrealistic expectations as there will be plenty of cat ladies with BBLs and sleeve tatts who didn’t get picked as they thought their (previously unlimited) line of credit from Youth and Beauty, Inc would get them something that would make their friends envious. Actually, lets pivot for a bit:

A department store opened in which they were selling men, eligible. The waiting list to get in was immense and they very selective about who they picked as they stocked only the best. The hype was through the roof and when a woman was selected you can best believe she’d tell her friends (and the rest of the web as well) as it showed she was special. A limo came to collect, the champagne was perfectly chilled. The video screen outlaid what kicks as it showed reels of men and the lifestyles they lived. She was wet as a fish and couldn’t wait to dive in this ocean for a nibble. Before she stepped in they outlined the terms and conditions:

“You may visit this store only once, never again. You may never tell anyone what is within as we keep it private and exclusive for a reason. There are six floors and the quality of merchandise doth increase therein so choose wisely, within limits, as you cannot go down once you ascend, comprehend?”.

She nodded her head, signed on the X and walked into the Husband Store full of grins. Floor one is titled “These men have good jobs” and she whiles a bit before checking the next which said “These men have good jobs and are great with kids”. “Thats nice but I want more” she says as she steps to the third and notices:

“These men have good jobs, are great with kids plus extremely attractive”. “Now we’re talking!” she says but something within is more curious of the next step and thus she skips this floor as well in her quest for the best. The fourth comes into view and the sign said:

“These men make bank, are really great with kids, model material and quite good in bed“. “Woo! I’m so glad I waited, this just keeps getting better and better. How can they top this? Well, there are two floors left so might as well go onto the next”. And so she did. The next floor promised her:

“Money is nothing to these men as they print it, they’re the best father a child can ever get. Their looks are striking, intellect immense and even that pales in comparison to whats between their legs and, girl, they know how to use it well”. “Mercy, mercy me!” she says and is almost tempted to walk the floor and see what kicks but something refuses to let her settle when she knows another level is waiting. She climbs the steps and notices the sign read:

“You are visitor number Three One Eight Six Four Nine Two Eight Three to this floor. There are no men here. It only exists to show that women are never satisfied with what presents – no matter how rare or amazing – and thus impossible to please. Thank you for visiting the Husband Store and we would like to remind you of the confidentiality clause you signed to access. You will now be guided to the exit and, yes, the security guard is married”.

In order to keep things a buck (and potentially avoid a legal ruck) they built a Wife Store across the street. A similar deal except the signs read that floor one has women that dig sex. Two has women that dig sex and are attractive. Three has dames who are into sex, look great in the flesh and have money as well.

No man has ever visited the fourth floor or beyond with most sales concluded by the second.

Telling, isn’t it? Its a cats and dogs things because we’re simply wired different and that, from a genetic point, is quite interesting as a hint because there was a study I once read that mentioned when the agricultural revolution did its thing only one man would reproduce for every seventeen women that did. They could make no sense of what kicked and what caused this blip but its imprint exists till now. Could it be he who had the most grain, wins? Did this shift in ways of living spark the need for a better feathered nest compared to taking what you could get as the mans hunting ensured you survived the elements to look after the kids? Who knows, its worth considering though as it seems to fit the sketch of the Husband Store, perfect. Now, a Waifu Store, on the flip would probably operate via the web and if the modern phenom of Gatcha games causing immense debt across the current gen is correct then people will probably sell their Souls for early access and then what will happen to the real life version of the fairer sex? “Tulip bulbs! Got them tulip bulbs!” she said, flashing leg, as her shares in Youth and Beauty, Inc were tanking due to the new competition that had stepped in…

The sex robots are coming! Not really but it will be a good approximation because we know that a man will fake a relationship for an orgasm whilst a woman will do the flip. We’re just wired different… And even thats about to be remixed as who can even guess what kicks when silicon and carbon mix to create Techno Sapiens instead? Now, recollect that if this text feels oddly specific (or seems offensive) that is because I wrote it to highlight your reality tunnel as becoming aware of it opens up a far greater resonance of consciousness which offers much better options as, without you, none of this exists and thus why be a one dimensional facet of Self when you can choose to embody the ultimate instead?

Till we meet again

There Are No Accidents

I want you to imagine, for a moment, that there are no accidents in this realm. Like a scene with a script lets pretend that every single detail, line, glance and gesture were pre-written for reasons of conveying a certain message to you, the viewer, actor, director – all rolled in one. Get it? “Roled?”. Ha, it appears the Game isn’t without a sense of the ironic when it comes to these spells and rites… You could argue that those who Know not the Ledge have “Souled” what should never be sold as they were “Whirled” into this world full of joined up, cursive, if you will, “curses” aimed at them not comprehending whats “Rite” in front of them? I know, right? Sounds ridiculous, and yet it is. From the moment they “Wake” and yell “Good mourning” to anyone who’ll listen they’re already telling they admit to being dead, serving a life sentence in the flesh but think they’ll see the code to the Matrix if its revealed to them within the construction designed to dazzle the senses as it sells the illusion of being human? Don’t be stupid. That would be a diss to the intent at the helm and his team of fallen angels, some of which appear human as they walk in the flesh, but don’t get it twisted as that earpiece is in and that marks the shift between we and dem for the rest hold a connect they secretly covet and is the whole point of this illusion.

That actually has nothing to do with the main topic beyond providing a sketch that nothing is what you expect and there is a Dual Reality Principle in effect, so, with that said lets kick some Knowledge:

I want you to imagine, for a moment, that there are no accidents in this realm. That every single that ever happened, up until this moment, was designed to send a message to the consciousness trapped in and manifesting as flesh. Here is how I’d recommend one inventory the life they’ve lived:

Write down, pad and pen for best results, the most dominant emotion you feel on the reg with no special effort. Call it your standard mode of embodiment. The one thats always on deck, old faithful, if you will. Your starter for ten, well 8, but you get my drift:

Anger.
Fear.
Sadness.
Disgust.
Anticipation.
Surprise.
Trust.
Injoi.

What you got? Don’t try and think about it too much, feel instead. Write it down so your inner realms can stare back at you as we progress. Roll that emotion (and its role) around. Sense into it. Lets pretend this is the main ink from which the story of your life is painted. What color is it? What the tone, in general? Well, my friend, that is the first card you were dealt from the deck of life. How do you like them apples? Once bit and can’t wait to tuck in or are you twice shy about what comes next? Lets pick the rarest emotion that illuminates your inner realms. Take a look at the list, you already know what it is but I get if you want to hum and ha a bit to make yourself seem less pathetic, desperate or whatever choice epithet that voice in your head slings to discourage every little step on the Path you create by walking. Well, what did you get? Feel into it again and imagine a life that was built from that particular shade of ink being slung onto the canvas of pure awareness then step into it. Inhabit it. Can you picture this life, identical, but that was your base resonance instead? How would things be different? In which way would your interpretation shift? Shall we flesh this out a little bit? Bet:

She steps in a looks like a million. To the average eye, at a glance, she’d appear to have it all but I could spot the cruel tension around her lips that always prevented her lips from hitting their zenith with a grin. A greater tell was how she could turn on whatever she wished as she was used to men pretending they weren’t getting aroused in her presence. She got off on it. It was her own little power trip but this truth only hid how victimized she felt. I’ll let her tell it:

“OK, I’m here. Now what? Listen, I don’t mean to offend but I’ve got another appointment so can we keep it strictly meat and potatoes this session with as little abstraction as you can manage?” she said as she sat down in the chair with an artfully intended flash of thigh as her legs crossed with effortless precision and the same inauthentic grin that was built on false energetics flashed across her countenance. Am I laying it on too thick? Should I not mention the details and let you fill them in? This, my friend, is a side effect of the doing the Knowledge as you pick up a lot more than the reg as its akin to watching your favorite film, times ten, that you’ve only ever viewed on a small, handheld black and white TV set (with one speaker busted) and loads of static from the comfort of your very own multiplex on a screen that is immense with the sound system bumping. You know what comes next, I asked her to pick from the list and given this was not our first sesh and she was well aware how terse I can get if I feel the other isn’t carrying the matter with spirit they call themselves she stopped and introspected. Her face presented many microshifts in expression that belied the voice in her head saying “What will he think if you pick this?”. “Ooh, ooh, ooh. This ones great, image build”. The queen of the frozen depths who often made mice of men was hip to the ways of her Opponent so she eventually said:

“Disgust”.

I just listened. And waited. A sigh escaped her lips as her posture did shift but she didn’t notice it.

“Mainly at my Self but often, at them as well. Its all just so ick, isn’t it? God, there are so many ugly men!“. She started laughing but the tinge of sadness never left her eyes, made up, perfect. “I’m not just talking in image but whats inside them as well. Ugh. Whitewashed tombs, the lot of them. It makes me want to retch sometimes”. To this form of regurgitation she was no stranger as, during her development, it was one of her best coping mechs and it helped her feel a sense of control in the midst of maelstrom of emotions she could barely comprehend. Nowadays, at the ripe old age of twenty six, she’d developed it to a keen edge and it was this that bought her to my doorstep as she could sense the wall, looming, and knew that there were prettier girls being born every moment. And yet, she said:

“What the F is wrong with me? I’m young, rich, attractive and I still feel… I don’t even know what to call it“.

And she meant it as she was numb from within. She had heard what I’d said to someone else about the matter with spirit and the snowman equation and something, deep within, started melting hence the introduction. We were now a few sessions in and, once, I’d had to explain the slap varies depending on the dish it hits, meaning, if I know you know you’re fronting then expect problems but if you’re in the grip of such immense ignorance about the truth of your inner realms and present with no guile, ill intent or manipulative pretense then you’ll get an immense amount of tenderness that many on the receiving end commented felt like nothing they’d ever Witnessed in the flesh but, once they did, they too could furnish the same resonance to their previously cold and barren sanctum.

“Actually, its not so much them, is it?” she glanced up, for validation. “Its me. I know I’m disgusted at me. Ha! Its wild how I knew this was coming hence the little preamble as a protective mech. Thanks for letting me vent. Its nothing but a brunch appointment with some guy who inevitably wants to get between my legs using whatever he’s got and thinks I’ll accept. Its pathetic, isn’t it? They’re so simple and basic. Show a slight hint of skin, a small grin at the correct moment, a look held for a little length and they all just melt”. Her face did a flip as she comprehend the shadows depth and how her presence made them feel as she rued this, to her, was impossible. “You know, I just remembered what you said about the Sun actually being cold as hell and, once again, I thought you were mind bending but then it clicked that seeing as everything else is backwards and inverted so why not that as well? I felt such a huge empathy for the thing that gives us light, warmth and allows our development being so remote and distant plus wrapped in a chill. Worst of all we, from here, cannot even look at it without dimming our vision and thus severing that connection at its purest essence. What a sad existence”.

It would take a few more sessions for this gnosis to penetrate the tundra of her own consciousness as this admiration she was able to project was seemingly only valid for anyone who wasn’t she, raised by her parents to be picture perfect. She had never been hugged. Can you imagine this? Its why she was one step removed from her emotions beyond the one she identified with to keep the others hid. Much like a welders mitt being slipped onto a hand, delicate, who is then asked to massage another with a gentle caress. Not happening. Heck, something as simple as attempting to scratch your lip can result in a nose, bleeding. Sadly, this is how most of the world lives and they’d gladly die in ignorance of finding this hence I applaud the strength of Spirit for anyone, everywhen, willing to put the work in to awaken the Warrior within. This progress was demonstrated well by her intuition pitching and her mind, catching, the polar opposite thanks to a seed that was planted last session that she’d obviously nourished via moments of quiet introspection as she ferried herself between appointments and handled the business of living that her phone constantly ringing with notifications from the A till PM.

Enough of the sesh. Thats the kind of depth you need to process at. Not just what she said but that I was observing in terms of levels of tension, the absence and presence of affect and a zillion and one other things. Remember, black and white handheld versus a home cinema type of thing. Doing the Knowledge isn’t easy but once you get used to it, it just clicks so regularly check in by shifting to the state of the Witness and note how you’re breathing, levels of tension, any excess efforts and such things without changing them then let them go and settle into a new equilibrium as you update the internal OS in your head with a new default setting. Basically I want you to take a good, hard look at the hand life has dealt. You can use the contradiction between this version of Self and the (false) version you project as well as tossing in all types of comparisons like what other people think they think about you, their reactions to your presence, what they say are your strengths and aspects they cherish and see how many of them are skin deep or actually hit a note, deep within. Then do the same with the opposite. Eventually you will have worked your way around the entire wheel and should have filled notebooks, voluminous, with your observations. There is a reason I said push the pen and not tap keys which I’ll let you discover for Self as the former hits spots the latter cannot even pretend to comprehend so when you do the Knowledge make sure you keep the change and its sealed with the ink that spills, dig?

Basically you are stepping into a role and comparing it to the second skin you were not aware of wearing and, after a while of doing this, you start spotting what shifts, what sticks and the underlying constant. Sprinkle in a dice, sides six, and your ever present pad and pen in which you write down some folks (real or imagined) who embody the emotion so well and then you roll it and play the role it says. Note, we are not aiming at making it super obvious. If someone clicks you’re hamming it then its the metaphysical equivalent of being pelted with tomatoes and eggs as the aim is to be subtle and natural so if you chose, lets say, Jesus for one (or even all 8 as his Heroes Journey certainly hit all the heights and depths) its not a case of turning up in sandals and then preaching but being of the same mindset as interpreted via your lens in a way that seems effortless and yet takes a lot of work to get correct. Doing this shows exactly how much runtime the (false) self uses to live that masked existence you previously accepted in ignorance as well as unveiling latent strengths and talents you didn’t know you possessed. On the flip, if you’re in a mood to channel aggression as He whipping the skin off the old school equivalent of bank managers rubbing palms with a grin at the thought of interest but are usually as soft as rice pudding it can rep quite a challenge which is why, as I said to someone else:

“Listen, you’re going away on a business trip to that conference this strengthened, yes? Do it there. Nobody knows who you are, they don’t have a clue of what to expect so you can consider it real life role playing. Mix in some L-Theanine with an extra strong coffee which I know you don’t usually sip to get that adrenaline coursing whilst taking off the edge so you’re not jittering. Go out to a store and find a new perfume that screams “I am a boss, bish, not like you pretend!” as you let that rage, righteous, find a way to vent as you note the sensations that they flow through your skin and mind as well. Watch your favorite flick and channel Brockovich. Get the tunes pumping. Feel the fear and recollect its simply a street sign on the way to your own power so thank it, remain Centered in Self and handle it. Pick a color, bright red, and use it somewhere on your flesh instead of your usually muted beige and grey. Matter of fact, choose the shoes. Yes, that will be perfect as you can use that discomfort from wearing heels instead of flats as a vivid recollection of how it feels to be she who was once hemmed in but now allows herself to melt, via inversion, to gain freedom plus the increased height brings a new vantage as you’re, literally, so over it. You’ve got this, go and make it happen”.

You will notice the tone here was far more direct and directing that the more ambiguous interaction with the other girl, mentioned. That is for a reason because there are a few types of emotional cripples and it generally helps to prevent one falling at the first hurdle if you pre-furnish all of the potential arguments in her head with perspectives she will diligently water and nourish before stepping up to the challenge as its akin to trekking along Path you’ve never went and meeting fearsome Opponents as, magically, the perfect weapon manifests and you slide into action without breaking a sweat as it feels so warm and natural. Thats flowing, glowing. The Ether, doing what it does best… After that she doesn’t need the help of stabilization and pre-pacing as she’s freewheeling and growing into her true potent. In the other example it would be akin to saying:

“Here is a map, you start at this place and need to get somewhere else, quick. Tick tock, the clock says. Oh, by the way, if you go straight to the target you’ll miss what was hid and its not the opposite or even one you’d expect but if you don’t find I won’t tell and you’ll live and die in ignorance” as this generates the maelstrom within which a) she feels comfortable and b) is suitably challenged as well hence the slap, in strength, varies according to the dish as for some its a rude awakening and others get a slow, gentle caress in which they sit, candlelit, and hear me telling them everything thats happening and what I intend to do well as I wait for a cue from their internal energetics that they’re ready to accept what comes next and are actually welcoming of its presence as its a sensation they’ve never felt up until this moment. The astute reader will have clicked that this is also lifted from the record of the same one who headed the article who got a curious mix of brutal tenderness as that was needed to reverse engineer the aspects of her that folded in as well shaking the ones that were over developed out of their rigid protection. Basically, this is how one Knows thy Self and whilst its easier with a guide I, personally, feel its more rewarding in private as who but you comprehends your own depths best? Granted I know that takes a certain type of strength but I write, more so, for the 8% and not those who are content to just skim the surface as there is no way in hell they’d be reading this article at length for they’d have clocked off, long since, and went to fawn after celebs or watch kitten vids or something. I hope you get my drift and catch what I’m throwing then use the echoes of silence mentioned to develop the Psylense within as the rewards are immense for one rediscovers facets and aspects, hidden, that lay bare their inner realms and this is when gnosis doth bring the numinous and ineffable resonance of Inner Sense roaring back to the helm of ones consciousness as all I’ve said simply resets the Mind Made Prison and its conditioning hence no accidents, only opportunities to Know the Ledge. Side effect? One becomes Centered in Self. No longer red or blue shifted but present and correct in the golden circle that dwells in the only time that exists:

Now.

Till we meet again

Agents of the Matrix

As far as I can tell, one of the main functions of gaining Slave/Master level access of the Game involves taking part in adjustments. You could say they are akin to Agents of the Matrix, in that respect, as it highlights how this whole thing is a stage managed operation in which your response-ability equates your free will. What do I mean by this? Simple:

Have you ever met someone whose life was going well and then they made a friend – it could be relationship or such thing – and after that they were never the same again? Chances are this encounter bought long suppressed or repressed feelings and events to their awareness. Now, the Slave will blame the other but how can they be at fault when that was actually within? The Warrior, on the flip, thanks them for this intervention and uses it as a catalyst to spiring onto a quantum leap of evolution. Granted, this runs counter to mans natural state which detests change and thus many attempt to cling to an old worldview that never served them when, in reality, they should rejoice as the rise to the occasion by coming face to faceless with that which, ordinarily, they never would even dream of handling. Well, that is an ironic aspect because if you were to speak to said folks and find they kept a journal of their nocturnal wonderings its a straight line in Tetris moment when they discover many hints and tells that led to this event. Some report a feeling of predestination, others state it felt odd in a sense that they cannot quite place, yet, as its so far beyond their standard lexicon and way of doing things. This is the interplay of Universe A and B, in full effect. The best hint I can give is to roll with it and attempt to see what gift is being presented wrapped in papers of fear and dread. This, in many ways, is lifes true challenge beyond the treadmill as breakdowns can be breakthrough if one is equipped with the right tools to handle them.

Sadly, most are not and will rush to the docs for pills or reach for something else to mask the symptoms which, in turn, only amplifies the ill effects which leads to resentment to said Agent of Chaos. That is, in my view, entirely incorrect as a) thats an immense waste of voltage you could use for Self Construction and b) in the end you’ll see how it was for the best. This doesn’t mean you should suppress your rage. Far from it. Like the pain you must embrace it in order to win the Game but recollect that they are an aspect of your consciousness projected into the realm and thus they simply did what you wouldn’t without a swift tickle from the metaphysical equivalent of a cattle prod. Of course, as you can guess, this shock can be quite unpleasant but such is how the Game is on this level as its all about trauma, trance and timelines. Many attest that after said events were integrated they felt an immense burden they hadn’t been aware of carrying was lifted and, for some, this spurs a massive quest that often directs them toward Self realization which can only be a good thing. Sadly, many can (and do) fall at the first hurdle which is quite rough for them as then the voice in their head piles it on, real thick, as it asserts its total dominance over their resonance and they find themselves in far worse a position than before said interaction.

This is why discernment is vital and being aware of concepts such as the reality tunnel, the primacy of consciousness, why the Game is what it is and countless other bits and bobs I’ve sprinkled in many articles. Learn how to Witness your Self, speak to the child within, decode how life is speaking and hack your human nature as well. Anyone who applies just them will easily step into a far better version of themselves as they shake off the crusty, dusty way of being (as exemplified by the Pane Body) that was a bad habit and gain the familiar newness of a burgeoning state of Inner Sense instead. Its quite wonderful, if wacky and potentially shattering. Like I said, the only difference between a breakdown and breakthrough is the same as Victim and Victor as they start identical but its where you take it thats important. The future is yours, do something about it.

Personally there were times, like Sam, where I thought I wouldn’t last for long but now I see I’m able to ascend to a higher plane of consciousness and its from here I speak on the Game and my way to play as these things worked for me and could for thee if you find your Self in a place that wasn’t expected. Let me lace you with an example:

Man meets women. She is a stripper who likes dancing. At no point in this interaction did he consider it odd that she had turned her charms on him nor the improbable circumstances under which they met as he was, to put it nicely, not the best looking and quite socially awkward as well. Thing is, he was a pretty decent fellow and quite amusing to be around as well. If you got him out of his shell. This she did well as a) she was picked for that resonance and b) she masturbated his ego like a pro and had him leaking at the tip of anticipation of what kicks. She sexed him six ways from Sunday, together they built an immense castle in the sky and when it was time to move in, she left. No further access. No one knew where to check and he spent ages looking for his Cinderella who skipped down and took her glass slippers as well. To say he was distraught was an understatement and as his world crumbled the tears fell. He blamed himself, mainly and did the old trick of replaying convos in his head and than sank into depression after a brief spate of violence in which he, for the first time, hit the clubbing circuit. This was an oddity as the man didn’t drink but at this time turned to it like a fish and was knocking people out on the reg to vent his frustrations as he scoured the town in hopes of seeing her someplace. Wouldn’t happen as she was transplanted to town, placed in his life and given a script to enact then trip. I know this may sound tinfoil but its exactly how it is. “What in it for her?” I hear you yell. Simple, she deposits a chunk of her bad karma on him as a catalyst, takes some of his potential and, if the job is done well, ascends a step on the pyramid the Slave/Masters worship. This world is a stage, as Shakespeare said, and these people are actors, par excellence.

When we met he was a wreck and, back then, I had very little insight into the true depth of the sketch but was pretty adept and making people see via a different lens so I asked:

“Strip the story of content and lets examine the context. When else did you feel like this?”. Cue a few minutes of blubbering and laments as the energies under the surface, churning, did comprehend that the man who stands in front of them is presenting a path for them to come to his head from his chest. He recollected his fathers untimely death and how that left him in a similar state of abandonment. Of course, the rage was suppressed and he’d always felt that his absence meant there was no one to teach him how to be a man, chat up women and all those things which usually pass from the masculine to the next generation. Can you see how this works yet? Anyway, after ages (and loads of mood swings as he attempted to integrate the energies) it started to click how he’d been handed a bittersweet pill that he’d ingested and now had to digest in order to excrete this previously stuck energetics which were generating a maelstrom of emotions. I asked him how it felt letting rip in the clubs and he responded:

“Amazing” as his face lit. “I was there looking for her and had absolutely no problem going up to women and asking if they knew this stripper chick as the previous fear of getting rejected and looking like a bell end no longer existed as my overarching mission was of great significance. Not only this but I, whilst lubricated, would say the most ridiculous and off the wall things that generated their interest as I was blatantly direct. This, as you’d expect, generated tensions with the men they were either with or had been intended to tap them and thus I’d respond with aggression which felt absolutely fantastic. This, often, turned them on and I’d feel an enraged sexing mixed with longing and regret that either had her bucking like a demon or me soaking the sheets with tears instead. To say it was intense was an understatement”.

One day he rose with knuckles red and recorded the oddest dream in which his father said he was proud of him for becoming a man and how we must play the hand we’re dealt as life is a Game of chance. He felt something shift within and that validation of his masculinity fitted in to the void she left and thus he felt more whole and complete than he ever had known.

Now, this isn’t actually a very extreme example but his folks all thought he’d flipped his lid as the previously mild mannered mamas boy was off the chain and coming in at all times of the AM whilst causing much static. So he moved. This was something he never would have ever imagined previously as he felt, but didn’t admit, she had became his burden, inherited, upon his fathers untimely exit. This resentment bubbled under the surface and further gnawed at the sense that other people were living whilst he was watching on the sidelines and now he had his own crib bills were in effect and this motivated a need to make ends so he went into business and did pretty well at it. Cue a patching up of things but now in a different resonance in which his mother was glad her son was back under her wing but never again would he reside under her thumb as he’d proved he was too big for this. On went his adventure.

All in daze work for a team of fallen angels, eh? But then, who but them who sink can point one to uplift even if they’re content to reign in Hell instead? Food for thought, yes? This is but one of many examples in which I’ve seen the same blueprint etched since and they say its not in the best interests of a magician to perform the same tricks in front of an identical audience but, luckily for me, I not only felt their effects my Self but had been helping others since back when so as it kicked I found resources and insight I wasn’t aware I possessed that was an immense help in upping my res as we are inside a fractal which means you not only interact with figments of your imagination but that there is immense resonance as there are no chance meetings due to life following a tight script. If one diverges from it then they’ll swoop in with events, circumstances and situations that work using a similar blueprint to give you just a little of what it is you think you want whilst causing an immense shift in your energetics to bring disequilibrium which is up to you to balance.

As you can probably guess there are a lot who fell at this hurdle and either ended up in mental institutions, medicated or miserable. This is why I’ve said one needs to be authentic and impeccable as well as having a clear grounding on the rules of the Game and how its played as it can all go left. You can, with a Warriors mindset, shake the shackles of past events, reverse all rites and come out the other end far better than you went in as there are plenty of myths and legends that attest to this as, once upon a when, this was well known as the way of initiation. But the Game shifted so thanks to those who upheld this tradition, even if they tend to manifest in ways quite strange as they have their own aims and, in general, do not wish you to ascend but that is a deeper topic as there are no accidents in this realm, only opportunities my friend.

Till we meet again

A Map for Your Hero’s Journey

Too many times, in this life of crime, we’re thrust into the spotlight without a clue of what kicks, who is the mix or even where this all happening. The last one is an immense hint, if you can crack it. What if I told you that you, reading, are actually the main character of a quest that I’d be willing to bet hasn’t even started yet? Take your favorite entertrainment series, show, book or what you wish of all time. The one you rank as the greatest and examine the protagonist and his situation. What if I said that is the life you’re supposed to be living?

Snort, came the reply. “I’m a hardcore Dungeons & Dragons fetishist ergo your hypothesis is rejected” said a man who spends more than a bit of time on Reddit. Lets examine his life from a critical lens. He is quite fat, slovenly in appearance, generally isolated except for those in the clique who enjoy rolling dice and busting orcs in the head and thus exceedingly passionate about this aspect of life that allows him freedom. The rest of his time is spent online either discussing said gift or emotionally vomiting on people in the comments if they said something he doesn’t agree with. How common is this? Do you suspect? Actually, does anything so far reflect in the deck from which you select your actions? Lets role that polyhedral dice for a sec and see what comes next:

D&D is a collaborative storytelling thing in which the playas are the most important and the rest is mere window dressing. You choose your own adventure, roll with the punches, play the hand that is dealt and see if you can help the rest out along your quest in which you face all types of foes and demons, fierce and treacherous. There is no end, in that respect, as one simply keeps on leveling and gaining more and more friends, relations and imperience.

In many ways it truly was an organic net before the web began to spin and snared folks in to its image building Game of “Lets pretend…” but because it was generally populated by nerds and social rejects it gained a rep as not being a cool thing. Thats by the by, though, because if you look at what was said and apply to the man in questions existence it would play out like this:

What is the story he tells himself, in his head? He started out very underpowered and even impoverished as the odds were stacked against him. Struggling to fit in and desperate to be anyone but himself he found a vent that presents an escape into a land of fantasy that was populated with phantasms and demons of his inner realms. There goes the dragon that ate his confidence, back when. Seeing it now fills him with dread as he flees and tells himself “Not my problem, me and him are cool these days” as he escapes to the shade. The same can be said for the rest of the characters that populate his inner realms. In order to avoid this mass angst he tends to overeat as the excess indulgence prevents the rising thoughts from getting beyond his neck and thus as his waist expands he finds there is less and less demand from the girls at school he sees on the reg. The external expansion is marked with an internal contraction and its into this void the Game did step as a projected alternative from taking on his true Hero’s Quest that scares him witless. From that point on it becomes his all of everything and is not only the cornerstone but foundation and roof of his identity. Heck, its the walls, door, windows and furnishings as well ergo he cannot imagine life without it as that is akin to being left, naked, in the elements. He will defends its honor and worth to the hilt without ever stopping to comprehend what is truly happening as all of the above adventures in tabletopping could, and should, be happening within the realms of his consciousness as that was his true challenge but we are given no users manual, clue or hint about how to process these energetic shifts we call emotions and the labels we attach therein.

Tell me, my friend, am I reaching or could you apply the above intuition to your own favorite passtime or entertainment thing? That is the reason why you find it so attractive and if we up the res again there will be an equal and opposite hidden within that causes a further layer of spin that, often, precludes introspection for many as the funny feelings it brings to consciousness equal confusion thus its easier to stay where you sit than pick up the weapon tossed in front of them. A lot do, actually, but end up using it on themselves in terms of coping mechs. Woe betide anyone who attempts to rip away babies bottle as they’ll scream and yelp then say “He’s worse than Hitler, himself!”. It takes a greater mind to see beyond the reality tunnel it digs but one must be wiling to lose what is conditioned to come to their senses, comprehend?

What if you could gain a map for your Hero’s Journey? One that says “This is where you started, here is what comes next” and outlines, in general, what to expect and the direction to find the first challenge? After that, you’re off and its time to bet on Self as the amazing thing about the Game is it all takes place in your head ergo people playing the roles miraculously manifest, on cue, do what they’re supposed to and leave. Most of them totally ignorant of the significance of said things as ye will be to them who are engaged in the same thing. I tell ya, the Game of Souls, in terms of coding and application is a work of pure, unbridled genius when it comes to the miserification of processing needed to string the dumb terminals of flesh along for the ride of their lives, in ignorance. Smarter still was how they took the larger Pattern and broke it down again and again for overlays on top of overlays to build the land of confusion in which we live. The ancients, sans TV sets, were well aware of this paradigm hence their “innernet” was the stream of myths and legends which are akin to the sites to which we connect. Your level of awareness, presence and education decide what was decoded as outlined in why I believe Jesus was a metaphor for pure consciousness that, this very moment, is being crucified inside your head via the two hemispheres – one repents, the other wicked – as outlined in the link. Now, I could be reaching but the above I have just said is why I suspect I’m not in a mental asylum or dead as my own life has been no joke. And yet I laugh. It is absolutely outsane but perfectly amazing when seen from a higher lens as through my steps in the Valley of the Plebs I’ve came to comprehend that a) I’m immortal b) I’m not the story in my head c) reality is plastic and d) most people are entirely ignorant of what kicks but play their role to the hilt without a clue that the script thats pimped in their head wasn’t written by them but could be. If they wished. That is where the map comes in, my friend. “Its dangerous to go alone, take this!” is what the village Shaman said, back when, before his role was x’d from the rec and it was legally mandated to spend a decade and change learning how to sit still, look ahead and do well on the test. For what? That simply preps you to be like the rest and thus gain no gnosis beyond what they present as the psychosocial treadmill which, for many, is all consuming from one life to the next…

The map can even speak on this as it can tell you where you’ve been, how life was on your previous spin and what kept you pinned to the wheel of time as there is a programming language to this realm where nothing is by accident, only opportunities exist as you can flip the Game on its head, if you wish, by doing the Knowledge. Thats the map times ten because whilst most are designed for their own personal quest there are others whose resonance is beyond the personal and aims collective. This ties in nicely with who keeps sending the prophets they kill and why each incarnation was predicted as wise men looked at the motions, overhead and followed where they were pointing. Exactly the same thing the Shamans did when they traversed the land of spirit and its for this reason they called this plane the underworld where the dead believe they’re living but thats another level to the deception as it seems insane to say, yes? Why did the ancient Kemetians, who built such immense monuments jam packed with encoded datasets, build their entire culture around dying and never coming back again? On the flip, why are we trying to extend the amount of time we can remain plugged in by using silicon chips to bend the telomere limit that will slow aging as a neural synaptic regulator kicks in and unleashes what, to us, will feel like a low level hallucinogenic trip in which people are mind melded, beautiful and unable to Thunk beyond the preset limits they won’t believe exist as the low level hijack of consciousness is taken to another level via the introduction of Techno Sapiens. Its dangerous to go alone, take this:

The Game of Souls has you, my friend.

Once you comprehend the depth of this simple statement and how it permeates every single aspect of this realm, your awareness and interaction therein then everything becomes a discussion or, better yet, a negotiation. “Between what?” I hear. Why, wisdom and ignorance hence why, like Jon Snow, I know I know nothing. Dig:

I’ve said before life is a Game of three halves, yes? There is what you know you know ie what was poured in or absorbed via osmosis during your time on the planet in this incarnation. There is that of which you’re aware you’re ignorant and, for most Slaves, this is where the trail ends as the rest of the map they get says thats how it is. For the Warrior, however, he looks down and notices treads that he only makes by walking and thus follows his intuition and stumbles into the darkness to find enlightenment. Its in here discovers what he didn’t know he didn’t know aka doing the Knowledge and things get super interesting as why would such powerful information be occulted from the rest? I guess the question is the answer, yes? People are easier to control when ignorant and stressed. I mean, just imagine that you Knew, one hundred, that death was not the end but you’re an immortal beam of consciousness that is identical with the all of everything around whom flesh is wrapped from one life to the next. You would, without a doubt, turn the noiZ down a bit and start staring at the bigger pic of why you can’t remember past lives, who is wiping your mind and with what intent as well as countless other interesting questions I’ve been pondering since a jit. They say the poison and cure grow side by side and its up to the wise to spot this and handle their biz. I guess this perspect is a side effect of all the SRA they dealt as, paradoxically, the flip is the freedom to question, without limits, and draw links others miss which begets a desire for liberation, quite intense and thats where the map comes in because, can you imagine, that as it said was what went in to create the story in my head. Thats like finding what kicks and in Coca Cola that makes it taste like nothing else and why nobody can replicate it. Do you know what the answer is? Cocaine.

Literally. I’m not joking as they are, legally, allowed to fly in soccer fields of the leaf for processing. They, of course, eject the “real thing” and dump the three billion pounds worth of surgical grade sniff some place else for application and never, ever public consumption or distribution via a private cartel hell bent on profits which, I suspect, is the same clique murdering the prophets they send as there is but one corruption as only one Prime who pre-exists. I’ll let you up your res and guess who is the pretender, pretending whilst the Psylense sits, awaiting your comprehension of the trick that pimps your free will by making you Thunk it exists without having to do a thing when, in reality, its like a muscle thats built via constant repetition and flex aka doing the Knowledge. Your starter for ten, in case (like a Jersey mob boss) you think I’m shifting garbage:

Thats to scale, by the weigh. Not a typo. Look at the ingredients and note they mention an ambiguous “natural extract” on the list. Thats the leaf, sans sniff, as processed by the Stepan Company, NJ who take the reup and flip to Mallinckrodt who chop, chop the rock and sell to the doc, dentists and anyone else who needs a hit of the sniff. For legit purposes, of course. But that doesn’t stop one who does the Knowledge questioning why the company located at One Hundred West Hunter Ave, NJ was only recently added to Street View and even then a large portion is still off the record when everything else around it was sketched, well, way back when:

Make that make sense and whilst you’re there ponder on how much they extract from the hundred metric tonnes they bring in, their secret farm plantation in Hawaii and the three billion Dollars they generate from the flip and DEA approval then mix in with a bit of tinfoil (and I think I tasted egg and cinnamon) then see what you get. For desert you can ponder why Opium production in Afghanistan sky rocketed after “liberation” when the red, white and blue crew stepped in as well as who fed the same to the Chinese, back when, then laundered the profits through HSBC who were built to do just this. More to heaven and earth, my friend. How do I know this? Because my map said and I made the Path by walking via intuition long before I ever bumped into the programming code of this realm and then a whole load about a little bit made way more sense…

Till we meet again

Anothers Truth Is Not Your Truth

Richard Pryor, in the article linked, said that its awful easy to live anothers life. Doing what they said, where, how and when. An autopilot existence, in other words. Well, I’m here to tell you that around ninety two percent of the planet are doing just this. 81 are ignorant of the process, 11 willingly partake in the deception. The remaining 8% range from derelict addicts to schizophrenic in patients and, now and then, an enlightened dude sitting on hill, at a distance, who gets how and why life is a mess and then decides to leave the rest to it as its way too difficult to convenience a ship of fools they’re heading toward destruction and thats exactly intended. Every now and then someone escapes the maze in the sea, swims to shore and sees the huge factory dumping toxic sludge into the waters and starts putting the pieces together. He is neither clucking for a fix, battling hallucinations or a wise sage at a safe distance.

The Warrior comes in many shapes and forms. The reason I outlined this is because Pryor was just this and if you see how fiercely honest he was, his life, from whence he came, how he played the hand he was dealt but, most importantly, the things he said and his own unique perceptions you’ll see why its vital to be genuine and one can only do this once they transcend fakeness. This, in turn, only kicks once you comprehend the deception of a masked existence and, once again, you obtain this gnosis by realizing you aren’t the voice in your head but that which listens. This process I’ve termed the Path of Power is akin to swimming upstream in a downhill world. There are dangers to deprogramming. In my own adventure I had my friends plot my death, strangers try to kill me with kindness and the immense revelation that I was born into a Satanic Ritual Abuse program and my entire family were in on it. Yeah, that can all be pretty intense but, on the flip, if becoming a diamond was simple we wouldn’t be surrounded by coals of ignorance who are content to put the least amount of effort in and be just like the rest who, secretly, detest the life they live but are filled to the gills with distractions and coping mechs.

You will note that I said the Warrior, generally, comes from less, has dealt with immense stress and often gets a sense that there is something very, very wrong with this realm, yes? All of this stems from the parental relationship and, I’d be willing to bet, that if one or both of your links was crooked or missing something (as well as flat out damaging) then you’re capable of awakening the Warrior within. Let me put it to you like this – Anyone can tell reality is the definition of insanity, yes? What is the deeper meaning of being well adjusted to such immense social sickness then? What does that state about them and their ignorance? I’d be willing to bet that the happy and content denizens of the Valley of the Plebs are, on many levels, totally fake and mostly unaware of it. They will clutch to the script their parents handed them as they were fed treats and scratched under the chin with a “Who’s a good boy then?” as they aced the test by puking up what the teacher said on request. The Warrior, contrary, may have (like DMX) aced the test but found a neglectful mother who gave not an F and found an immense distrust of people, in general, stem from this which manifested as reckless violence that wrapped, like tendrils, around his creative tenderness. The only Soul who could comprehend his pain? His dog. Strange how that word is god when flipped, isn’t it? Dual Reality Principle, my friend. What it means is this:

You can have a canine friend, mistreat it, beat it, starve it and then ignore its requests for playtime and affection but if it were to sense someone was a threat to your well being it wouldn’t hesitate in dying to protect you. That is the true link between you and the Prime, the existing one. She has no religious texts, no creed or temple because her presence is more nebulous and obvious but has been carefully hidden via the architects of deception who are the main reason you believe the divine is an angry white man, in a cloud, yelling as he promises furious vengeance and general indignation for those of this realm. Listen, I’m not dissing your religion or anything but its as I said as you folks, to me, are chasing a cake nobody has even seen, let alone tasted, whereas me and the Rebel Mystic whipped up a simple and tasty biscuit called gnosis hence anothers truth is not your truth. This is why I said don’t follow me because I am my own guru and only disciple. You are responsible for your own development as its your Soul, in the end – we’re all manifesting within it as aspects you project. Gaining this gnosis in the flesh was extremely liberating as so much about so much made a lot of sense and you’ll note that the feminine aspect is always linked to the mind which is the moon in the same resonance of how the Soul syncs the sun as all of that, out there, has a correlate within. Don’t believe? Good, you shouldn’t as this is my truth, not yours. Create the Path by walking, find what kicks then we’ll compare notes and see what syncs and swims, dig?

This doesn’t mean you can’t use what exists as a framework to find your Self. That is often the best way as not all were born in the jaws of the dragon and thus are playing the Game at its highest, most difficult level. Nay, most are offered a more staid deal. In that case its like pretending life is a funfair and its filled with rides and attractions. I’ve said before that I suspect free will doesn’t exist but I’m now revising that opinion and I think it just doesn’t for me, to a large degree. Dig:

In this amusement park there are wurlitzers, pirate ships, crazy halls of mirrors, bumper cars and pretty much all you can imagine. Some get on the ride and enjoy what their parents did as its a family tradition. This is unactualized free will aka the path of least resistance or “Well, it worked for them and who am I to question tradition? Besides, there are other things calling for my attention than these metaphysical abstractions so begone!”. Others hate what their folks want for them as they sense its not genuine and authentic ergo they rebel and, to their chagrin, find their own way aka “He used to be such a good boy but then went to Uni and started flipping packs. I don’t know what happened to him?”. That too, as the article suggests, can be just as fake as the first as its a counterswing that misses the mid. Next we have one sits on an attraction but is slightly distant and thinks “Its all a ride” and then starts pondering the true depth of this sketch and what it means to wear flesh in this realm. This is becoming Centered in Self and if you came at it this way then my compliments to the chef.

Up, up above this is a rollercoaster that flits around the entire place. From the highest highs to lowest lows, its got them covered. Each seat is for two but, usually, only one is present. It takes in the whole park and thus one who is riding it could, if they wished, see every single aspect of all bits and then draw their own conclusions. This doesn’t happen, often, as they’re usually screaming and holding on for dear life as its designed to scare the crap out of them. The thing is this part is off limits for the rest, mainly, and thus they don’t even suspect it exists. The so called schizophrenic is one who finds his merry go round of predictable bliss has shifted to this hurtling creation of adrenaline dumping and he struggles to make sense of what kicks until a cheery “Quick, to the mental asylum!” kicks in and they say he’s a cuckoo as you can get because rollercoasters don’t exist. They’ll point at the parks blueprint and tour guide experts who all attest its in his head and isn’t real. The mystic and poet, on the flip, know about this thing of myth and legend and make their way around the park of amusement but without investing in the distractions as they’re seeking the hidden exit in to which the madman, entranced, fell. Some do, others don’t and BS. You can always tell the real from the fakeness as the former is usually hated whilst the latter celebrated. Do the Knowledge, my friend. When they get to the destination the mystic climbs in and handles it as he’s spent many lifetimes training for this spin. The poet, in tenderness, looks from a distance and writes rhymes, rapturous, about the beauty of its magnificence and how it affords such a thrill. Note, he himself has not rode it but this shows you the basis of all religions and how they actually exist in the first place as all of the prophets knew about the rollercoaster as well as the nature of the park and its construction etc… This is a very subtle part that many miss.

Me? I was born riding it. That means flat out adrenaline from inception and no off switch. At various junctions I’ve noticed that my belt had either been loosened with a cut or the track itself was rusted and busted but, somehow, my carriage floated over it. Once I even fell out as it was looping but, in a wonderful sync, as I dropped gravity was rendered ineffective and thus the moment the coaster came back around I slotted back into the seat I’d just vacated with a wry grin wondering what the heck just happened. That was my latest near death experience. I say latest as there have been so many I stopped counting, back when. The first two kicked before I’d even started crawling. Someone down here really doesn’t like me but someone else, more powerful, has me earmarked as their favorite it seems. Not meaning to sound arrogant, just sharing my truth as my life isn’t a movie. Its several. This you’ll click when you reeleyez what I’m kicking is one hundred percent fresh and direct with no two stepping or stretch ergo it can get you wide open or blooming, if you will. In a world full of people whose rose was pinned by an errant thorn to create the (false) self of egoic projection as they ride the attractions this may seem like a fate worse than death but thats quite ignorant as we died to wisdom to wear the flesh of ignorance called being human aka the oldest tricks are the best. I’m here at present to share a message then jet as its my last spin in this Game we all play using our Souls as credits so pay attention or don’t, thats on you, but be certain that you’ll be riding that coaster one day as well and then, like Richard said, it will make a load more sense why its so simple to live a life at anothers behest with no questioning of the script until you live, die, come back again and keep on doing this for a few more spins until you’re sitting in your mansion smoking crack at the peak of your success and wondering what the F is happening because you easily make others grin and yet feel so sad within that you end up acting like this in a way that belies an immense amount of self hatred.

This is where one learns to sift the pure milk of Inner Sense from the corrupted waters of Adulteration that were sifted in, for profit, by the same people who kill the prophets the Prime sends with same message, again and again:

That life is an illusion, death is the truth and its not where things end but begin. But, the funfair is seductive. Like pimps and politics, it promises what it never delivers but will wear out whats between your legs for its own ends, if you let it as the preacher passes around a plate for collection to those who accept anothers truth of a magical cake they can one day taste if they do exactly as is said from one who is usually not a paragon of virtues as he’s simply got hope for sale to those plugged in…

The Game is something else, my friend and it will meet you on your level and beat you to your knees, if you let it. The Warrior, on the flip, is a major threat as one gaining gnosis reminds the others what they’ve been made to forget hence the 8% often come from less with the explicit intent to prevent this awakening as they’re sucked into the vortex of destruction instead of transcending to ascend because none of this exists without a Soul to Witness the attraction. Thats how powerful your mind is, my friend.

Till we meet again

The Time Machine

Lets pretend there are no accidents in this realm, only opportunities, my friend. Taking it to another level, lets throw the spell “Coincidence” in the bin and imagine there is a process that creates everyones existence. A Time Machine, if you will. This algorithm works in the background, invisible, and was responsible for your parents meeting, who they were, their preferences and whims plus genetic mix. Basically, I’m saying that – down to the atom and the fact you’re currently reading this – that there is no chance and every single aspect is scripted by a specific process with its own intent for each incarnation. Many will scoff at this. Others will call it god in a new dress. Both of them are ignorant and, respectively, rep the 81 and 11%. If you are one of them then I suggest you jet and find someone else who says what you expect and not content that challenges your preconceptions about life on the most fundamental level as my missives are silent invitations to the 8% capable of awakening the Warrior within to comprehend and then approach from their own angle as there is no “One size fits all” in this realm. As you’ll Witness as we delve into the depths of the Time Machine…

“OK, we need to keep this interesting but subtle and efficient” said the men who would be kings as they surveyed the land that could be but isn’t yet. This was, as you’d suspect, done in secret as to win the ultimate win they needed to use the subtle arts of subterfuge and deception. This they did and played to the hilt but we’re talking about the genesis style events in which their collective spirit was hovering over the planes of this realm with envy in its breast for the people they viewed as beneath them had something they coveted but, themselves, could not access:

A Prime connection. I call it Inner Sense. Every child steps into the realm with it. It speaks via the language of symbols, intuition, meaningful syncs and those strange feelings that something is amiss in ways your conscious mind cannot comprehend. “Tish, pshaw and nonsense!” said the voice in your head. Welcome to the proof positive of the Time Machine because, as you may not recollect (yet), there was an era when it didn’t speak and your life was much more intense, yes? Care to recollect? Take that as a challenge. Better yet, why not describe the exact difference between childhood and the life you live in a way that actually does the downgraded shift justice via its comparison using language. I’ll wait…

Willing to bet you failed in this because I’m pretty decent when it comes to linking phonics and states and I found it nigh on impossible which made me contemplate what the heck kicked. Until I came up with this:

Once upon a when, there was a small boy and a world that felt immense. Each day bought a new discovery and challenge as it was so rich and vivid. It felt like full spectrum living in optimal coherence and resonance with what can only be termed the all of everything. He Knew, on some level, that he was the embodiment of perfection and the most powerful thing in this realm was the imagination. It, often, surprised him as well as he’d pluck things from it then wonder “How the heck?” as he looked at the sketch, concept or thing said by invisible friend reverberated around his consciousness with the “This is important” message that seemed to make the edges tingle with a special kind of illumination that was just calling out for his attention. This could be as simple as watching ants run from a hill after one of their scouts found something of interest and went sprinting back to tell the rest who, inside his head, were talking like this:

“Right lads, I found a leaf. Its about yay big and I think it would be perfect to decorate the crib as this type is apparently the rage this season so I suggest we go scoop it up before someone else grabs it as its a one of one, fully natural kind of thing and I quite like it”.

The rest of the crew nodded their heads in assent as they liked the sound of this and a breakaway formed as they trudged off, singing, to go and get the prize in question. Now, obviously, the above was a curious little boys interpretation of said events but what kicked next really made him ponder about the type of logic at the helm in these little insects as the exact amount of ants needed to carry said thing are exactly what manifested. Meaning, there wasn’t one sitting around twiddling his thumbs or a few less so the rest struggled with effort. The call and response was literally perfect. The boy was astounded as he watched the scene unfolding. Time, space, his life and the rest had all ceased to exist as he was present with such a single minded focus that he heard not his parents calling. This, later, would be marked down to sheer insolence and willful ignorance of their talking to him. It wasn’t the case at all because, inside his chest, many interesting things were happening as his mind swung from one branch of reasoning to the next as what would become the crazy chimp that bangs its dome against the cage of the zoo, Adulterated, where it sits was, for now, in its natural element and scouring its databanks of what is, isn’t, could be and, one day, might be as well as a whole host of other options that have, usually, atrophied since it was turned into a tourist attraction for forces it doesn’t comprehend.

“Did one look, size up the challenge and think “We need twenty three strong men” or did they all, somehow, just Know this is what they’d pick? What if I’m wrong and there are extras sometimes who aren’t needed and they play the rear instead or set off in search of other things?”. With this in mind he starts to imperiment and he picks up things which may interest them and places them around whilst calculating odds in his head to pencil in imaginary statistics to form a dataset. He, consciously, is totally unaware of this as he’s still too young to have had “Show your working” drummed into his head but his belly is providing the impetuous, his heart chimes in with intuition and the scratchpad in his head notes observations of what kicks as the info is fed back, refined and reconsidered again based on his conditions. He notes that they always, always, always seem to just “know” how many it will take to lift said thing and he cannot help but sense an underlying aspect that must be working through them to cause said things to happen. For rays upon rays he keeps this in the back of his head and, often, stops to notice other anthills as well as looking at birds in the sky and noting their correlation. Everything is data and he, without knowing it, is crunching immense amounts of it at very high resolutions to create a unique info set that, often, surprises those around him with his observations.

I highlight this simple example to prove my point as, once upon a when, you had no answers but loads of questions that weren’t generic and not on the test. You didn’t do this for acclaim or a pat on the head. You did it because it was totally natural to try and figure out what kicked and pore over the most simple things that many miss. Life, in that respect, was three dimensional. There was a layer of depth that would, stealthily, be removed as you were trained to accept not only a Two D rep instead but labels instead of sensations.

Does that describe the shift from Inner Sense to Adulteration with about as much refinement as a welders mitt? I hope so as its the best I can do at the moment but I feel the lack of plane whilst still viewing the same thing is an accurate enough ref – along with a basic example – that your mind can fill in the details as you draw your own pic, and thus, conclusions as well. As I’ve said, you should accept none of what I’ve said but take it all as a challenge. Know the Ledge, my friend…

This is the raw material of what was fed into the Time Machine, back when. Its process is so slick, so all encompassing and therefore totally invisible that no one questions it. No one, that is, apart from the madman, mystic and poet. The first comes off the worst from this skirmish as he hasn’t a clue what he’s up against nor that its shaping not only his consciousness but that of everyone in this realm over the age six which is, funnily enough, the same time that inner glow dims as the lessens of “Sit still, look ahead” take effect. That wasn’t a typo, by the way, but you already Knew this as you’re starting to see the spells they sling as the code of the Matrix, yes?

As the boy ran around the garden he noticed each flower, leaf and stem. They were not, yet, generic and placed in box that said “Seen one, you’ve seen em all”. No, each had its own depth that made it special and worthy of interest. He observed how some roses appeared to be full of vim and you could see the pride issuing from them as their chests swelled in how magnificent they felt. Others were a bit more disheveled and seemed like they’d lived a bit of a hell to get to the present and were just feeling a bit tried about what kicks. He wondered what would happen if he paid extra attention to it and made up his mind to take some of the plant feed he’d seen in the garage and mix it in with the water, sprinkled. But only near this bit. He’d also talk to the plant and see how it felt. This continued to capture his interest for nearly a month and, during that time, he spotted this wilting flower had began perking due to the presence of nourishment and his attention as well. “Interesting” he thinks and looks around for another pick that looked similarly listless. This time, however, he would only speak to one but keep both of them well fed and note the difference.

To the Adulterated, looking on, the scene presents none of this and if he tries to share his imperimented datasets they’ll either ignore or pay surface level attention as they are no longer capable of rendering that res ergo whatever comes in is reduced to flat plane in which bills are in effect along with death and taxes. They have, in effect, been hijacked by the Time Machine and are currently playing an immense Game of Simon Says… with the voice in their head they Thunk is them. No such thing for the boy who would grow to be Prince as his Spiritual Immune System is live and kicking and thus ejects this process before it can finagle its way in… Not that it would relent. “Oh, ve hav vaze of making joo talk!” said the element that wished to become the voice in its head as the Time Machine plotted its tools of ingress. Being who he is he spotted this, as it kicked and wondered what this new invention presented as he asked everyone about the manifestation of said thing. To them its presence was as invisible as water to a fish but, to he, it was a strange interjection that caused immense pondering:

“Am I the voice that speaks or he that heeds? How come it tells me what to do before I did but, once upon a when, I was powered by something else that was markedly different?”.

He raises this topic with both the grown and innocent. They look equally perplexed at his meanderings into his nascent consciousness and comment there are strange thoughts in his head and how its better to pay no attention. His mind flips back to the anthill. “Of course!” he says, with a grin. “Thats how they did it. Check it” he says, unfolding the metaphysics to a friend who’ll listen as he shows them this small realm:

“Its like, imagine I’m the one sending voices, yeah? I tell them thats a twelve man job, no more or less, as I see the whole thing whilst they’re ground level consciousness. Each of them hear the exact same statement in this head but, get this, they take it personal when it isn’t“.

“Yeah, yeah, cool” says his friend, only half listening. “Lets go climb the trees!”. So they did. The boy never stopped pondering at the same depth of res since back when and, for him, the Time Machine and its grip is Self evident on this realm. This was amped to the power of ten times infinitum when he discovered an odd glitch of how schizos never, ever hallucinated around him and thus he was, to them, like a magnet as he always presented identical no matter what springs from his head. They, gratefully, listened to his developing musings and meanderings on what kicked because, to him, their hallucinations ticked the boxes, really well, of open eyed dreams and what chased them with nasty threats had an immense correlation to the monsters under the bed. And then he said:

“Wait a minute. Thats the first time I heard it speaking, remember, that voice in my head that I didn’t step in with but certainly manifested? Its one time when I rose in bed, screaming, and was scared half to death. It said “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe” and, at the time, I’d accept any reassurance I could get but I always sensed it was counterfeit as demonstrated, real well, when I got that tape deck as a gift and recorded my voice only for it to say “I don’t sound like this” and that really got me wondering because when I look in the mirror my hair parts on the right but a photo offers a different sight so are there like two me’s or only one thats twisted by an alternate reality that was woven only inside my head and could what kicks in yours simply be a more intense version of this?”.

In the neighborhood schizophrenics he had found an enrapt audience as not only was what he said relevant to them it, often, caused them to relate to their hallucinations via another lens for he said:

“I strongly suspect you’re just a figment of my imagination and this I can prove, quite well, because the last time we sat here for ages and I asked you to just keep on repeating, out loud, whats happening within and I almost felt like I was hallucinating as well. Its like we were both tapped in to the same resonance and that manifests, primarily, inside your head but what we have in common is actually far greater and immense and doesn’t begin, nor end, with the flesh but thats another topic”.

Yes, the Time Machine is slick and in the decades, intervening, since these examples I’ve found it quite curious how if you take ten people, at random, and place them in said thought imperiment around 8 will reject, in an instant, what you said. More than one will decry your view as totally incorrect and make quite a big song and dance of it that sees to offer hints about they’d prefer it kept hid and people not think like this. Less than one will be capable of pondering what you said, without accepting it. Simply as another viewpoint or, if you will, a reality tunnel. They may choose to wander down it for a bit, sort of like the boy and ants, back when, then snap back to their regularly scheduled program which shows it can be quite nebulous as its only held together via the habit of ignorance and, interestingly, these people are, quite often, either damaged (or flat out broken), a bit different or totally aware of their coping mechs and how they do them to keep an immense monster, from back when, at bay but willingly listen to the boy who would become Prince and what he said as it sounded interesting and was totally different to what anyone else ever shared as they felt something shift within when conversing as the previously flat image started, again, to gain depth as they felt a familiar newness wash over their awareness as the grip of the Time Machine receded into the distance and, with it, the voice in their head that made them a meat marionette that used to dance on the strings of ignorance and parrot whatever it said as its own perspective.

“You certainly have got a funny old way of looking at things” he said as means of encouragement. “Keep at it, kid, and recollect that the dead shall bury the dead but takes one who is living to comprehend the sketch”. “What the heck does that mean?” came the response from the preteen who was almost entirely ignorant of scripture and such things. “Why don’t you think about it instead and see what you get as there is plenty rhyme to the reason why he said what he did. Plus, you ain’t the only the one who can talk in riddles designed to shift your consciousness” he added, with a wink, before going on to yell at something invisible that “No, I will not hurt him. He’s my only friend in this realm and is heaven sent as an air of breath, fresh, and thus shall be protected by the Holy Spirit“. This, as you can guess, launched us into another discussion and I asked “Are the dead those who accept what the voice says without responding as you did?”. He cracked a grin and said:

“You know what? They may just be but, until recently, I never looked at it like this. Its what you shared about challenging the suggestions instead of accepting them in ignorance that got my questioning and they didn’t like this – nor you – one bit after that thought imperiment”.

“Cool, anyway, look at this” he said, pointing to an anthill as they sat on a park bench. “See how that one scout went off and spotted that leaf, at a distance? I’d be willing to bet that when they come back to pick it there will be eighteen of them. No more, no less” he reasoned as, for him, the world was not only still Three D but growing multidimensional which is where, he suspected, the schizos did attempt to swim but using what the Time Machine had taught them but the gossamer resonance was beyond its grip and thus they drowned whereas the rest, well adjusted, had learned to tread water instead and, slowly, get wrinkled without a true clue of the decep and how they may actually be collectively hallucinating a version of themselves that didn’t truly exist outside what the voice in their head said as they rushed to spend the money another thought was fit to print and all the rest of the labels pointing at things versus looking at what presents and letting intuition sing as gnosis beatboxes and wisdom dances…

The Game of Souls has you, my friend.

Till we meet again

Lets Pretend You’re Rocky Balboa

If you could live your favorite movie, would you? Off rip most people would nod their heads but thats merely surface level Click-Whirr responses from the Slaves mindset. Think like a Warrior instead who dismisses the spell “coincidence” and chooses to go in, see dense instead. Whilst not top of my bill I’ll pick as everyone knows the thread and it creates a great point of ref as the story is perfect:

Rocky.

Yeah, that’ll do. For a few, lets pretend you’re Rocky Balboa. See how it fits:

You would start dirt poor. Just over broke would describe it best. People think you have skills but you have no outlet to use it beyond breaking thumbs for hoodlums. This you really don’t want to do because your heart isn’t in and thus people think you’re dim and treat you like this as well. You can box a little bit but there is no glamor or glitz and the money to pain ratio is insane as well because they expect you to put on a performance for a pittance. Not only this but your trainer has all but ejected you from the premises as you are nothing but a bum with potential talent, wasted. He prefers to invest in sure things and that means someone new is in and you’re out on your rear end.

Can you imagine the frustration? It is akin having a voice as smooth as silk but a terrible stutter as well ergo you prefer to remain silent instead and never let people glimpse what truly kicks. On top of this, the one man who believes in you withdraws his protection as well. You have one friend. He is a derelict alcoholic but is overflowing with confidence. He notes your loneliness and tries to hook you up with his sis because he thinks both of you are a great fit as you’re both partially retarded to him. This is your best friend. Hey, at least he’s honest. Thats something…

Really stop and take that in. Thats the first couple of decades and change of your existence. Truly take that mindset and live it as well as filling in the details which bought this child into this realm, how they reared him, the values instilled, environment and the rest. Forget about going the distance, its all about survival just yet. Still willing to take that bet? If you were him how would you feel this instant? Hopeless? Sad? Depressed? Thinking no one gives an F because, historically, they haven’t hence why you’re stuck in a dead end pit doing something you detest with an immense swell of talent within that you just cannot vent? Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? See why I said movies are emotional porn, my friend? They simply masturbate a different aspect to generate a subtler, but more potent, type of bliss. Isn’t that a miracle? I really think it is because these people, their roles, the sets, scores and the rest are pure fakeness but we, viewing, validate it as genuine and offer our stamp of approval to the black mirror of creation which says:

“Cool, if thats what you wish, then so be it!” as it fills in the rest of the sketch. Indirectly you have built a world just like this hence why its very telling what flops and who hits as there are deeper meanings and layers to all of this like I sketched in the thread about myths and the Matrix. Its a kind of magic! Spellbound for ninety minutes as a life is hyper compressed. Lets pretend you were immortal and sitting in the Fifth Dimension. To you the human traffic could be decoded like this. You know, a huge Truman thing. Wouldn’t that be something? Would you truly be invested or not wish to ruin the spectacle ergo you’d watch from a distance as fallen angels with clipped wings tend to have fatal attractions with the flesh. In a totally unrelated spin, have you ever noticed that you can be alone, by your Self, and feel, intensely, that something is present and staring directly with strong attention? You look in that direction, see nothing, keep glancing and then, eventually, the mood shifts and you get back to the business of living. Stranger still, as those with pets attest, the dog may bark at the invisible whereas the cat simply glances up from its preening and tracks the one visiting as it walks through a wall, across the room and out again. Reality is only half a truth and the rest is stranger than any fiction, my friend. Just ask a schizophrenic…

So, pretty much of nothing happens. You’re quite fit and attractive but yet, single. You mingle with your turtles and thus you accept the date, set. Whats interesting is that you’ve obviously known Paulie for a bit but his sis is a bit of a dark horse in the sense that she says next to nothing. Not surprising really as the dude is volatile and, seemingly, has drained her confidence like he sips the bottle he keeps on hip. You make your approach via stilted conversation. A date is set. Much success! In comparison to how things have been this is an absolutely immense win. “Lets go iceskating!” you think. And off you went.

Lets take a break for a sec and sink into the flesh of the character. Can you feel the anticipation? The venture into the unknown as a new train pulls out of the station and offers a glimpse or hope of salvation? You are still hesitant to truly invest because, lets be honest, you pretty much took her hostage but at least its progress in some respect. Would your heart be thundering? Unsure of what to do, say and express? Afraid to make a mess? Wondering what happens next? Don’t read these words, feel instead. Once you do then get back on thread, yes?

So, now you’ve lived the emotions lets see what happens next. Bear in mind, you have no idea of the outcome. You’re going in blind with this big bet as you stack your chips on a potential that may or may not be certain as you don’t have a clue whats behind the curtain. Thing is, its got to better than the hand you’re dealt, correct? I mean, when you’re born with nothing and you’ve got pretty much all of it left then what the heck? Lets risk it all on a game of pitch and toss with the common man (or woman). After all, you may come out like a king. I say this because I’d be willing to bet a large majority of people reading are in this exact same position but too busy beating themselves up in their heads as they watch reruns on television for the familiar comfort it brings. Like I said, there are levels to this and what pours in from the black mirror, suspended, says a lot about the Soul thats taking it in as its scratches a deeper itch in a place most are too busy remembering to forget…

The date goes swell.

You like this girl and you can sense that she’s coming out of her shell. All those years talking to the turtles paid off well! On the other side of the rainbow we have a man who is the best. He sits at the helm of his realm and is surrounded by signs of success. Thing is, when win is your default mode of operation you need to seek a challenge. This is the difference between those with a losers mindset that make nothing and the ones who rule like kings. Did you spot the difference? Dig, you can play it safe and rack wins but that is exceedingly boring. Sure, it may make you rich, let you sport a perfect record and ensure that the brain damage most fighters get doesn’t kick but, in the words of Cus D’amato (the real inspiration behind Mick) you aren’t truly a fighter as they need hit and not get hit but, at the same time, be exciting. Really think about this juxtaposition and you’ll see it makes about as much sense as stiff prick on an island full of lesbians ergo he seeks one in a billion to manifest his intent. Well, that he did get. Let me share a quote from his words of wisdom that fits in, perfect, just like Mike did to the style he built around him and turned his weaknesses into strength whilst making the best use of his wrecking ball fists via the use of elusive aggression:

“No matter what anyone says, the excuses or explanations they sling, whatever they do in the end is what they always intended since incep“.

Ouch. Thats some grade A ether, right there. Can you feel it? Its the kind of stuff that makes a slackers Soul burn slow as those who Know nod their heads as they’re the exact opposite and have already seen the win before stepping into the ring. Thats what Apollo did as he was too busy promoting the spectacle for mass appeal to think this underdog would have a bite and bark to go along with it. Side note, did you spot that Stallone named the role a Saturnian slash Zeusesque serpent god whereas Creed repped the Sun hence the label they gave him? Its a tale as old as time itself as they pull the heavens down to the terrestrial realm but with a deft inversion, some window dressing and a slick narrative so many don’t even click whats hidden in front of them. Its worth noting they made Apollo Black whilst his counterpoint sports lighter skin. Why do you think that is? Oh, by the way, in case you think I’m reaching:

Baal + Boa. The Saturn element was from Rockys name itself ergo he’s an amalgam of elements including Zeus and Set that have, historically, jostled for position as the one who gets the most worship. You’ll note that serpents and dragons were globally venerated before being demonized, real quick, and yet, to this day, the Game of Thrones got its hits due to these characters of myth. Or were they something else? Haven’t you ever wondered? I did and still do. Getting back to it:

The Champ has a pick and his name is Stallion, Italian. He plans to rearrange his face so his title could also change ordering. Its a friendly game he’s playing but he thinks the hype would be immense as here is a everyman nobody going toe to toe with the reigning king. A rags to riches story in the making. How are your threads, my friend? Have you been feeling in the emotive details as requested or did you remember to forget and just read the text and thus decode a low res when I’m beaming 81K into your chest with the intent to spark gnosis? If you failed the test go back and start again. Its worth the investment in the end as you’ll never look at the movie of your life the same again…

Rocky is made an offer he can’t refuse and, being him, did. Do you know why this is? Its to do with a little thing call the Heroes Quest (or Journey, if you wish) and it goes like this:

The world is ordinary. Life goes as it is. You get a glimpse of this at the beginning as the pace, back when, in flicks was glacial compared to modern hits that are either totally front loaded or empty their clip in trailers which leave nothing to the imagination as peoples attention spans have vanished. Actually, this flick was a dope pick for many reasons, wasn’t it? Thanks imagination, you’re the best! So, the next step is the call to adventure and this is where the phone rings and Rocky picked it up and said “Nah, not interested”.

Everybody does this. When opportunity comes knocking many peoples knees start wobbling hence why they prefer to put it off instead and blame him, or her and them for their apparent lack of success. Its like Cus said in the quote I mentioned. Have you ever met a guy that was talented or attractive but simply didn’t believe in himself and thus did nothing with it because, in his mind, he was defeated before attempting? Its exceedingly common. I’ve lost count of the amount I helped by telling them negative thoughts are there to challenge and how the whole Game plays out inside their heads. On the flip, there was a guy whose ears were cauliflower and nose bent around itself like he was trying to sniff the ear on the left and yet he stayed with a fresh ten on deck. “How?” you’re asking. Well, in his mind, he was just that and, quote, “They’re lucky to get a piece of this prime rib”. I am not joking. We couldn’t figure it but it was the sheer disdain and confidence with which he slung his lyrics that had them falling over themselves for his attention and trying to prove they weren’t basic. Its a funny old world, isn’t it? Like I said, its who they are within and not the external that makes all the difference. Tell that to the plastic surgery generation but thats another topic…

Its very interesting how when Rocky drops into the office he fully expects to be nothing more or less than a sparring partner. A human punchbag. A rented target. That, in his mind, is his station. Its where he fits best. I call it the zone of discomfort. Outside it where the magic happens but if you listen to the voice in your head you’ll constantly be hemmed in until your lifes a string of “Remember when I could’ve contended?” war stories you tell your friends. No stripes on an imaginary general, my friend. Plenty of shell shocking they won’t admit though. Balboa responds with a simple “No” before getting talked into it by a well dressed promotions pimp. Whether you think you can or you can’t – you’re correct. Words to live by. Die by them as well because you’re actually an immortal wearing flesh and life is the grand test/scheme/wheeze (delete or add as you please) in which the great Game takes place inside your head so who (and when) etched your programming? Two words shattered your inner realms. Two of them. Most would never admit this but its take it to the bank solid. Actually, wait a minute, they sell all the money thats fit to print so lets say its as genuine as he sun, blazing, overhead.

So, Rocky refused the call. If you’ve been feeling the emotions as requested you should be able to conjure up a moment in your life – maybe even in the present moment – where you’re doing the same thing. In that case, stop reading this and go do that instead. I assure you it will pay far greater dividends than consuming another immense run on sentence. You may even meet your mentor. Thats the next stage on this Quest. Well, in Balboas case, he was more of tormentor as old Mick was curmudgeon, par excellence, who placed him on the row of skid and cussed him out as well. Lets take a quick Mike break as the retired pugilist has now became a toad licking philosopher instead:

Never a truer word said. In my case my friends set me up, left me for dead and then I fought my way back to this realm again because I simply refused to give up my adventure in the flesh as so much wasn’t yet done. On the flip you may chill with a clique that blows smoke up your rear end, always says yes to everything and never, ever challenges you a bit. Those are your true enemies, my friend and, in the end, you’re doing it to your Self. Who knows, that may be your script, eh? So, Mick says “Let me train you, you son of a bish!” and you know the rest. The message is when you take a step toward success he’ll look in your direct and intimate that spell means to consume poop. Get it, suck, cess? Its a kind of magic, yes? Or a layer cake, if you will. The stench is nothing to Rocky as he was born in it, molded by it. He is so familiar with losing that he accepts the hand dealt and thus can’t even imagine a win. Are you like this in any areas of your life? Ask why by questioning the child within. The results can be most interesting as a guy, once upon a when, divorced his wife, in an instant, when the shaky hand in ink reminded him that he’d spent enough time playing the role of emotional stand in for a father, long dead, and how this current relationship mirrored the misery inflicted on him by his mother, the narcissist (now dead), who said:

“Now thats selfish, think of me instead” any time he attempted independent steps.

Sometimes that reassurance and validation can make all the difference. For Rocky this was externalized as Adrian, his retiring feminine Yin.

Next we must cross the threshold aka put the effort in. His first challenge was shedding the label of Incel and he did this pretty well as he simply wouldn’t relent until she acquiesced. These days he’d get put on blast via socials, recorded and lose his endorsements or something. Probably get a restraining order as well. Ah, times were simpler then and even easier still when Sean Connery laid his hand down like a pimp. Strange how the blue haired white chicks that were determined to run a man born in the Nineteen Thirties name into the filth over what he said, back when, were oddly silent about Coco Chanel “sympathizing” on Nazi magic sticks? You have to hand it to Bill, the jokes tell themselves except they’re historically accurate. Ah man, these tangents. Sometimes it feels like I’m transcribing a fractal as my mind expands, everywhen, from that still place in the mid I call Centered in Self. Where were we again? Oh yes. So, the next thresh is appearing on TV and showing the world he’s ready to contend. Paulie, his “friend”, is (as usual) hating. Its all good, a little pressure never hurt a coal and its what creates diamonds, comprehend? Rocky is no longer a nobody, he’s almost somebody but yet you’ll notice his ego is still nil. This is the exact reason why so many artists make their best album when they’re flat broke and starving. The fat them laced with success and recognition simply dials in the performance and, worst of all, people accept it. One mediocre album after the next from an old dog with dentures that used to be ferocious. Compare that to how Pac pushed the pen and you see an artist who does it best with roaring passion and sentiment, genuine, that pours from his chest as he captures intense moments that will never appear again. Not chasing a cheque, another bish or current trends. Thats the difference between a flash in the pan success and being a living legend at nearly thirty years dead. He wrote them songs a looooongggg tiiiimmmeeee agoooooo!

All of a sudden, out of the woodwork if you will, come loads of friends and some who pretend but are the opposite. “We always knew you’d make it” drips from saccharine lips as they rub their palms as well. The smell of success is in the water and they want in. Rocky is tested. His budget is pretty much nil so he starts with whats around him which means pounding the pavement and beating on meat as well. Pause. Something is missing. A crucial element. Like the reason pineapple is served with ham may just be due to the cannibals and when long pig flesh was kicked onto the “Do not consume” list on the Hawaiian islands SPAM made a great alternative. In this case it wasn’t a topping, divisive, but Mick instead. I know we already met him but things don’t really start to kick until the approach is made and deal, sealed. Rocky throws a bish fit and, thus, embraces his inner Self that was previously suppressed and repressed under layers of tension. Note, I’m not speaking on those social media male feminists that lack testosterone and think that simping online as cause supporting will get them trim as their wills are as weak as the wrists that struggle to open their plant based protein replacement or talk to a girl in the flesh. No, not one bit. I’m speaking of the shadow aspect which, for Rocky, was his inner feminine. We all posses one. Plato said both were once at the helm and its lack is why we seek in another what we can’t grant to Self. The mystics, on the flip, said thats a load of BS and the Kingdom is within but thats a deeper topic. I’ll go with them because, from my lens, its most accurate as two broken cups, tinkling, asking each other for a drink is no relationship and, besides, I’m so selfish I wear ribbed condoms inside out so the pleasures all mine!

Rocky is stressing as the zone of discomfort is akin to regurgitating all the fears and dreads you’ve been saving up since back when. This is the real reason people accept the crappy life, the short end of the stick and the immense amounts of BS. A part of them, somewhere, Knows this is correct and they’d rather shove their head up their rear end and discover it fits well as they get comfortable and settle in. By comfortable I mean in excruciating back pain due to the arrangement as they pay for light bills to remove the darkness whilst getting accustomed to the stench. This, my friend describes best the life of a Slave. The 81%, totally unexamined. I thought it might be interesting to pitch an article at them, for a change, by using modern myth as art is a lie that tells the truth, yes? In that respect I’m the luckiest man in the realm as I came up so poor I couldn’t afford to pay attention to illusions and thus kept my head on a swivel and soaked up raw Game from playas who were sworn in before pots in which to whizz and windows form whence to sling were classed as living lavish. Or, as a denizen of the pavement once said:

“The reason we had no locks on the door is there was nothing worth stealing! What are you gonna do? Nick my wireless or vinyl player the size of a park bench? Good luck moving it”.

Yes, times were hard but we was content with grammar being incorrect to fit the rhyme schemes intent. Getting back to Rocky:

Its time for the ordeal. This is the challenge that begins and, for some, ends them. Many have popped under pressure and some choked as well. This where the coal must shed his old skin and reveal the diamond within and, as you can probably guess, it hurts like a bish. Can you feel it? Have you been flexing your imagination as you decode the sigils I’m firing in your brain as a direct demonstration that the spell “pretend” actually hides and immense secret instead:

This is why the flick is never a patch on the book, my friend. Its the difference between a gourmet meal, served fresh from the chef who knows you well and made it special, or a TV dinner instead. For the instafacetweeet gen it would be reduced to chewing gum instead. Initially super intense but totally lacking any depth in the end as you’re sitting there, gums flapping in the wind. Or maybe flat champagne would be more accurate? Immense life lesson in that text if you wish to check. The steps set the stage for his main challenge as the visuals are intense and show just how far one must stretch to finally get into their element. Head in anus, recollect? You’ve got to unkink that spine, my friend and stop kneeling at the feet of midgets. Or is that politically incorrect? Should I refer to them as vertically enamored embracers of gravitational resonance instead? Would it make a difference in the end? Ah, I swear, these words are magic spells and will make you miss the elephant as you’re too busy addressing the curtain, rope, wall and the rest of the fragments in a time of hyper specialized mass ignorance of the bigger pic. Reeleyez, my friend. They spot real lies, real quick so allow the realization to ascend from chest to head as we progress.

The steps have been conquered, external mountains are now molehills so he turns his attention within and doubts he can win. Remember what I said about belief and manifestation? He decides, instead, to go the distance. That, for him is as good as win and will prove to himself and the rest of the realm that he has talent. Here comes the reward – Getting his ass whipped. The round starts with him taking an endless string of hits but then something happens and he chin checks the king who wobbles, in surprise, of his strength and determination. Can you imagine how this felt. Let that adrenaline hit, feel it coursing through your system as your previous doubts are eviscerated and replaced, instead, with strength. Something like a mental alchemist who rearranges the pieces in his grip and thus develops free will. Oh, its on now. he has sensed a weakness as he dropped the champ with a dig. Rocky is holding his own in the ring. The fight doth progress and Apollo comes, blazing, like his name said. The underdog is ready to be taken out behind the kennels and shot in the head but he, like Jesus, gets resurrected.

The fight is ferocious, both push the limits. Balboa cracks his ribs and thus shatters his confidence that was already torn to shreds. Just at that minute the bell rings. There is one round left and his vision is clouding. This is the time where will must battle imagination and the flesh, often, throws in its little bits and says it wants no part of this mess. Its the burning heart that stokes the fires of confidence, my friend, and, with this in mind we head to the finals. The digs are ferocious, each gives all they have left and, at that moment, the bell rings. Whats the decision? The scores on the doors say the champ remains king but, to the people, Rocky deserves the win. A legend is created, things will never be the same again. This is the part of the script many want to live but, if you’re still reading and have been imagining, it took nearly five thousand words to reach this conclusion. Where are you on your trek? Has your Quest even began? If not now then when, my friend? That is the question as time and tide wait for no man ergo the best moment to get started was yesterday and if thats gone with the wind then why not unwrap the present and sprinkle some attention on the fertile seeds of your gifts that nobody else will ever believe in until the tree stands erect as it was quietly confident as an acorn ensconced in ignorance that its time to shine was coming. But only if you’re willing to take the hits and put that work in. Thats the difference between a hero and coward as they both feel the same thing but its what the latter didn’t and the former did that made him a legend whilst the other yells at a TV set and pretends that is him.

That is the power and paradox of film as it can be a prophylactic for success or the genesis of greatness. Do you know how many people, of all races and stations, bonded in martial arts gyms, back when, thanks to the efforts of one Bruce Lee who, against odds that make this flick seem like a walk in the park, set his mark and enforced it. To this day his name rings bells as another living legend, long dead, that remains as an inspiration as he was so far ahead of his time that most simply couldn’t comprehend his depth and skill. Same with Van Gogh who painted the background radiation of this realm with his swirls and drifts but cut off his ear as no one listened. Am I singing to the deaf or do you hear me on FM? That is the question. For now, lets get back to the end which is where it all begins:

Rocky makes his return to the ordinary world that he left and things will never be the same again. He has won. The magical elixir is in his grip and its taste upon his lips. Against all odds and using all the reserves of strength he possessed he pulled off a miracle and turned almost nothing into something quite undeniable as testament to the power of one man with fixed intent and tunnel vision which simply refuses to quit, acquiesce or give in because he Knows, deep down within, this is his reason for living and why he donned skin to enter into this realm and play this immense Game we partake in by using our Souls as credits so the question for you is:

You know what you want to do, why aren’t you doing it? I believe in you, my friend, because with this article, immense, you went the distance and, in the end, you are another aspect of me (or figment of my imagination, if you will) and I’m simply telling you something you already know within but may have been scared to admit or never looked at like this. Now you have the gnosis, your eyes are open to the potential that lies, waiting. The question is how far along are you in the challenge because you only create the Path by walking so all you have to handle is the next step and let life pitch in with the rest because miracles can happen when you believe in Self and that, to me, is the only life worth living as the alternative is a duplicate without original and thats a death sentence in fancy dress, comprehend?

Till we meet again

Words of Power

You have heard me talk of spells and rites, yes? Like how the whole Devilish language is a cursive trick designed to lull you into a state of hypnosis and false resonance with the one eyed king who rules in secret and has billions of minions ready to do his bidding whilst thinking its their whim? Well, I happen to have a few reversals of my own that will help flip the script and you are welcome to reality test and see what kicks because whilst he works by contraction and folding in – which begets an echo chamber effect that is also reflected on the net, hence its a weapon of mass influence – mine cause a state of expansion and thus blooming which offers a gift of higher perception and true freedom instead of near constant stress and countless coping mechs. Next time you feel the walls closing in and your breath getting ragged as your pace is elevating don’t reach for the spaghetti tin with knees weak, arms heavy. Instead, stroke your chin and intone instead:

“I wonder…“.

Fill in the blank. These two spells open up your imagination which is the most powerful thing in this realm and when you place your attention within you can start creating, not reacting, to what presents and that, eventually, begets a state of transcendence I call beyond good and evil. Next:

“What would happen if…“.

You may note that both of these are questions, yes? Its because, when asked, your mind cannot help but answering which is why you see this trick being used by dodgy salesmen, advertisements and religions as it gets their hooks in. Remember, the human mind has no firewall but that doesn’t mean you can’t upgrade your OS by rejecting suggestions and attempts at manipulation:

“Consent not, do I” could be said or in the regular arrangement if you wish. I don’t know what it is but I find the way I’ve said in the example works really, really well at defusing said influence as it offers agreement, negation, the action and person in that sequence as opposed to:

“I do not consent” which asserts a negative that, by its very nature, requires imagination and thus the hook is partially in as its rejected. Like I said, super pernicious language which is laced with spells and things. Another simple way is to reply, with a grin:

“I reject what you’re offering!” as you shake your head and push both palms in their direction like you’re actively rebuffing their energetics. Once again, that may seem a tad strange which is why their ways to constrain are so effective because if someone rolled up on you and started randomly wittering on about things that made little sense how many would tell them to shut up instead of politely nodding their head and wondering whats happening? Thats one of the favorite plays of the Agents as they know how to exploit kindness and turn it into weakness. No need to be a prick. I just tell people:

“Five words or less“.

That should be enough to communicate what is needed without manipulative influence as its the stories that get inside your head as the longer you listen, the sweeter the pitch. Try the lemon imperiment for a simple example. Actually, I really should make that vid because then its far more rich and vivid as text is good for some things but the visual medium is much more impressive as less effort is needed to induce the resonance.

“No” is a great one but that also has on hidden in its flip which shows just how simple yet slick this entire trick is. Kind of like “I lxve you” sending the evil eye via the guise of affection whilst “I’m sxrry” invokes Eros instead. No wonder the world is a mess and yet this forked tongue and the stiff upper lip that bought it to this realm are a prime example of what I’m saying. I mean, haven’t you ever wondered why the countries that are shaped like immense dripping triangles pointing in one direction are filled to the gills with spiritual and mineral riches along with immense traditions but are kept dirt poor and exploited by a tiny, allegedly united, kingdom who waves triple crosses in your dish and unleashed so much wickedness that the amount of places that celebrate independence from their grip is a lengthy list. And yet, they didn’t because whilst they may have loosened one grip they moved in via other fronts instead. Chief of them language as its the most used, at present, and its also the most cryptic as anyone who learned it next will attest.

“My ears hear good news only“.

This one has energy vampires reeling like the sun hit them. Try it and for best results make sure you also only speak those vibrations and entertain the same, in private. This goes for the screen as well because you are what you eat in this realm so take a break from the junk. Not a diet – which is a hidden ref to crucifixion as anyone on one will agree with – but a livit. The latter is a lifestyle, the former a blip. A temporary discomfort via restriction. Whilst nothing may exceed like excess the art of moderation is something sorely missing at present because we have people with a whole load of everything and all access but are more discontent than they’re ever been. Think there may be a rhyme to this reason? How about the flip? What if that is exactly how it was intended because if you give people, disconnected, a means to link in and they all start pondering, at depth, lifes big questions and what it means to wear flesh as well as who keeps sending the prophets that are killed, stone dead, so their followers can fight among themselves and with the rest as well then the facade cannot help crumble, quick, and this is not wanted. After all, you must draw the links of a hidden intelligence at the helm when it clicks that every single language hates the hand that is left behind when class is in session. The rites strike again! And yet, pushing the pen with two grips unleashes the child within that was forced into a state of hypnosis I call Adulteration.

Do the Knowledge, my friend. Do the Knowledge. Its a participation sport and thus it will not do itself but for those who partake the returns on investment are immense as you gain nothing more or less than transcendence. At first a grip may slip off a fragment of Self that you integrate into the present which then may lead to further blips akin to sheets of ice melting and, before you know it, a pole shift has kicked in and you can use these points of awareness to intuit the point in the mid and thats when the adventure of a lifetime truly begins as the rest is merely Overtons window dressing designed to keep hid what right in front of them:

Without you, nothing exists.

Thats why the spells and rites are dished out like this using a tongue that is halved, inverted and flipped to show and tell the intent is nothing but pure Devilish. There is so much more to this like the fact you are already dead hence “Good morning” after “waking” and the true hint of your Slavish imprisonment is that you place a “collar” and “cuffs” on before being bound with a “tie” that is naught but a noose, inverted, as you head off to “urn” a “living” aka cremating your true potential as you choose to run the mill instead. I mean, can you imagine a planet where the words “weak”, “weak daze” and “weakened” (yes, they’re spelled correct from a Warriors vantage) were flipped into strength, strength rays and strengthened instead? Just that one difference and yet the consequence would be immense as I’d bet there would be far less doddering men and bent over old women as they had, over and over again, reinforced a suggestion to their flesh with their own vibration which is, in the end, the key to their reverse manifestation and they can claim you did it all out of free will and thus are blameless via the letter, if not spirit, which is why they hate he who can tell the Emperor is undressed as they’re in the business of selling illusions then making out like bandits in the midst of confusion.

Whilst they play both sides against the mid (aka the war in heaven) 8% click and awaken the Warrior within and become Centered in Self instead and thus ascend the Vertical Axis and transcend these spells. For many, reading, that may be a bit much but just try what I said. Imperiment. Report back your findings, note the shifts, see if you spot and variations and your own methods as a school kid who once overheard the convo between me and her parent said:

“Oh yeah! Thats why its called “boring” because it feels like something is boring into my head. Thats amazing”.

Same reason why imagination hides the spells that we are, indeed, a nation of magicians but most are ignorant of this hence the Game as it is because in times of universal ignorance the wisdom can be seen and missed by those who’ve been lead to believe they already possess it. What you have, instead, isn’t even lead but fools gold instead which is even worse but scratch the surface, test its mettle and see what kicks. Let go, gain everything. Only you can free your Self from the Cave of ignorance get back to the beach of Inner Sense that is awaiting, my friend.

Till we meet again

“What the F Are You Still Doing Driving a Cab?”

I highly recommend you watch this flick if you haven’t yet as it contains with the truth of man in this realm as we attempt, in ignorance, to play this immense Game on this stage via using our Souls as credits in exchange for the skin you’re wearing and story in your head that, for most, hems them into the role of Max when, in reality, they wish to be Vincent. Note, I’m not talking about being a smooth, silver fox of a killer that grabs a lift, drops vics and then is on the next jet before anyone comprehends what he did. No, I am speaking on the flip where Max hates his life but won’t do a thing to shift then sells dreams to himself about what he’ll do, as and when. You have to admit that hits a little close to home, doesn’t it? From now on, whenever you’re engaging in said coping mechs you will hear a voice, from the depths, that says:

“What the F are you still doing driving a cab?“.

Then you will choose different. Recollect what I said about negative thoughts being there to challenge, the predator at the helm of your awareness and ponder the question of if you’re the best or wackest version of Self at the moment then choose different. Life will not tell you these things as they wish for you to run the treadmill, from one life to the next, with no introspection needed as you shift and rearrange premade chunks of Thunk that were placed into your awareness, with the elegance of brick, back when as you were dropped from hi res to the lowest common denominator expected. Now, I will warn you that A) there are dangers to deprogramming and this is why most prefer a road that ends exactly where they expect because you must be willing to lose your mind, as built, to come to your senses in the present moment in order to unwrap the gift of Inner Sense. B), and this one is far more slick, if you do you will find springs of static and hatred from those you know best because you changing threatens their concept and they can’t stand this but have odd ways of expressing it as its a whim, programmed in, via the voice in their head that clicks that one escaping the trap it set means others may follow the example lead and also become alchemists in the flesh who then heart out on a quest for gnosis.

Should this kick it signals the end for them as they feast upon your Prime connection and thus make beasts of men. The business is efficient, as old as the empire itself hence I’m a major threat as I remind you of the things you were made to forget. Psylense the noiZ, stare into the void and you may just note this is where Rick James sits and as you come back from this Journey comprehend why we wear shoes, plastic, and they recorded the funk expressed with feet, naked, so the Earth could resonate its presence through them. Getting back to Max and Vincent:

Max got the girl he wanted. The counterpoint to his flaccid Yang as she was an actualized Yin which, itself, is quite ironic as that means she was out of her feminine which is something nine out of ten “career women” will not admit as they Thunk the best way to win is beating men at a Game that makes them miserable. I know, stupid, isn’t it? Try and tell em though and watch them squirm, quick, before that which is at the helm pulls its strings and makes them yell. I once asked a girl if she knew exactly why she bought so many shoes. She didn’t have a clue and admitted it plus was willing to ponder what I said. That I might share, elsewhen, but its for you ladies to comprehend because if you’re living out such intense Click-Whirr Patterns then doesn’t that make you a puppet of the flesh? Of course, for the insta gen, being thought of as generic as they sport the same tatted sleeve, BBL and fake eyelashes as the rest with pics filtered to death as they save up enough grip to buy a new set of lips, eyes, nose, teeth and or whole visage is akin to telling a pig in lipstick she’s a swine, nothing more or less, and thus they’ll hate you for it but, eventually, some may gain the spark of gnosis, intended, and come back for another session. She said:

“You really are a prick. I absolutely hated what you said and stormed out of the sesh because it felt so uncomfortable to have my camera tricks ripped out from within and then shown to my true Self who, silently, nodded her head and said “He is correct”. After this, doing what I did, no longer hit like it once did as its akin to using a strap on with my friend but in the emotional sense. She obtained immense pleasure but, for me, there was a disconnect. You know, I’ve often wondered how it felt to have a dick. What you said, back when, about how, for men, it swings in the wind and thus is nowhere as intimate as entering the lotus, blooming, of the feminine really made me think because I know you were talking to someone else but it felt like it was targeted at my depths as I’ve been a loud and proud lesbian since incep. I felt it at school, developing. I couldn’t quite place my finger on it, even though I’d been masturbating since a kid, but there was something quite beautiful about a woman that made me tingle within”. I agreed with her on this and stated:

“They truly are an astounding creation, yes? It can be the subtle things like a tongue poking out in concentration of which they’re not aware, a nose wrinkling whilst considering the thoughts you’ve sent that plumb their depths or the totally irrational lack of logic that, like Sean Connery once said, makes you want to smack them upside the head with a pillow for being so stupid”. She started laughing.

“Oh my god, yes. Yes, exactly this. You know, I can be a really, cruel, sadistic bish in bed and that is something that, if I had a dick, would get me erect as I buzz off that helplessness as I keep inflicting pleasurable pain then denying the resolution of it. I can keep at it for hours and hours and the best sex you can ever get is with someone you detest. I once seduced an old girl I knew, back when. We’d known each other since High School and she hated me because of my preference and I loathed her existence but, alone in bed, she’d get me so excited that I spent many, many nights thinking about her. She used to blush in my presence, every now and then, if I looked up in class and our eyes met which, later on, I came to comprehend was a sign of arousal. Anyway, I was out, having a few drinks, and we ran into each other on the circuit. At first she couldn’t believe how I’d blossomed. Gone were the boots and jeans because I realized online simps pay the bills, real well, ergo I jumped in, full tilt, to giving the men what they wished but it was all an illusion. She, initially, couldn’t tell this and thought I’d “grown out of it”. Later on that night I had her in my bed, my very own wish fulfillment switch and I sat there flicking it with an intent that can only be called devilish as I went from soft tenderness to being fiercely relentless and there was nothing, not a thing, she could do about it. I left her a wet mess and was so proud of that notch on my belt that it got me thinking. Am I both Max and Vincent or something else? Is this really who I am or am I, on some level, faking all of this? Even though I get immense validation and scrip from the simps that I pimp they think I’m one thing but really something else. My jerk off instruction vids are the ones that sell best but the dildos and such things I’m using are purely for the feminine. Am I, on some level, negating this in me because I so desperately want to be a man? Is that why I wear my hair like this, lift and am seriously considering a jaw implant as well? In the end, what you said, really shook something, deep within, and it reminded me of my schoolfriend as, when she left, she said:

“You know, I always thought you were attractive and hated you for rocking, with confidence, what I was scared to admit. The truth of the fact is I’m married and have an amazing kid but, deep down within, I wonder about the life, unlived“. She went on detail a few bits and bobs as she left and thats what, in part, bought me back again as, with her, I really felt what I did miss and, no matter how much I pretend, I’ll never be a man. Not that surgery is an option. What the F is going on inside my head and chest that I simply cannot comprehend because I was quite certain it was X, Y and Z then she made me see it could be A, B, C instead and then there are the bits in the mid that, for most, are unmapped, unquestioned and never examined. What the heck is happening? I feel like I’m losing my mind and cannot tell my elbow from rear end because, a while ago, I was totally certain that I knew who I was but is that all a coping mech? It what you said about gauging how quick the buzz fades. It could be a new accomplishment, a possession I wanted or fresh conquest as the thrill of the chase is always, always, always better than getting and, sometimes, the rejection is more thrilling as it excites something with that seems to get off on this and this is what popped in my head as I saw her eyes, liquid, staring at me with boundless affection as I was so aroused by her whimpering to please let her release the waves, cascading and I realized that I simply do not like my Self as much as she did in that moment and thus this has to be an intricate manifestation of shadowplay in the flesh and, worse still, the encounter was fated as she resolved immense amounts of tension from back when but, in the process, dredged up all kinds of sediment from the depths of my subconscious and this relates, well, to the convo we had where you questioned my realness and I stormed out instead of answering it as I felt so deeply disrespected as I pride myself on being authentic. I don’t even know who I am any more and you’re to blame for this”. She said, looking dejected. I softly reminded her I was simply a figment of her imagination saying what she daren’t admit. With a grin she shook her head and added:

“You really are a prick”.

See, in this case, the question is is she driving a cab as a loud and proud lesbian that, simultaneously, gets many men erect from her side business or does she, subliminally, drain their masculine energetics as its what she truly covets but, at the same time, would never make the shift to another region of the alphabet with a bit of nip tuck remix and some hormones thrown in as well? To say she was complex was an understatement but this was a girl who spent a heck of a lot of time introspecting as, back when, she beat up a lot of her school friends as a way to vent the aggression she didn’t comprehend, yet, was purely sexual. She was extremely compartmentalized, in that sense, and a house that is divided can be easily conquered by outside influences of echo chambering and our conversation had hit a nerve that was red, electric, deep within and had been previously wrapped in all types of blue insulation hence why I asked her to watch the flick and bring her notes in which said:

“I immediately hated Max. His fake niceness and general air of weakness. It was strong and visceral, I felt it in my left fist that started tingling and the memory that instantly flicked was of a girl I knew, back when, who was ultra feminine and really popular as well. Me, having short hair and Doc boots, was seen as a bit weird and off tilt. Vincent I dig, I liked him off rip as he’s just so smooth and efficient. No emotion needed, its strictly business but he’s so charming with it. Ha! A lean, mean killing machine that most would never see coming. I saw a lot of my Self in him as he knew what needed to be done and handled it. It was the end though, when he switched, and found his true strength that left me wondering – “Am I being authentic? Why did he tell me to watch this?“. If Vincent really was what he said and truly he lived his lyrics there is no way in hell that bam could’ve caught him slipping. Granted, its a flick, but it certainly made me think. What if this is just a huge, elaborate coping mech and I’m really Max with a hitmans face copy and pasted over it and I’ve been so invested in the decep that I can no longer tell?”.

Men pay her good money to guide their masturbation. This is her niche and she exploits it, well. To them she’s the strong woman of their dreams and specializes in whatever they need to get their rocks off via the illusion of intimacy but she was starting to comprehend how there must be more to this as she put on a great performance, which they gratefully bought in, but at the same time she felt immensely jealous of what swung between their legs and she, herself, didn’t possess but could approximate quite well with an extensive collection of toys and things. What bought her to the brink was, one night, she clicked how the connection she coveted with the feminine wasn’t truly happening as she thinks but, with her clients, she works best by thinking she’s them and then letting rip as she vampires their energetics and wallet as well. In the flesh this concept filled her with disgust but, via screen, it was different. Being intelligent she had studied Freuds concepts of penis envy and such things and thought “That dope fiend’s off his head” as she examined other blips but could not, just yet, comprehend the shadows depth and what was hidden within. This is the element we’d been exploring as she shared her edits of the wrap around implant she wanted and how much it would cost, the potential hit to her gains as well as the pain of taking at least two months off along with the rest of the mess in her head designed to distract her from what, to me, seemed Self evident. She had, as expected, picked it from a woman, also lesbian, who had been naturally blessed with such a thing and rocked it really well with a quiff to look mad androgynous and chill. In comparison her face was far more delicate and this belied what kicked as her finger T:E ratios said the same thing even though, beneath the neck, she was a tower of strength and prided herself on max reps and generally toned appearance thanks to her tireless dedication to lifting and immense discipline therein.

“From what the heck have I, seemingly forever, been running that, now, its got to the point where I’m thinking of slicing and dicing? Its what you said about the quest because my body is in the best shape its ever been and I hit all of my targets then trounced them before I heard something in my head say “Now lets do something about that face, eh?”. I was taken aback as I’d never thought like that, and yet, once the suggestion was in I felt like I couldn’t resist it as it seemed like all my previous dread, existential, had now found a singular point of focus that we needed to fix, quick”. Thing is this girl was no stranger to her inner realms and comprehended, in part, the camera trick because she’d never had this insecurity until the mirror finally reflected perfection in the flesh and thus she intuited there must be something else pulling the strings. We’d met before this as she overheard a thread I was weaving with a friend about the damage done within via hoe phasing and how I strongly suspect that a womans affection grows less and less over time until its more tinged with detest than pure, unbridled bliss because, for a man, its already out, swinging (and thus impersonal) whereas a woman holds the keys to the kingdom and decides whom she lets in but all entering leave a deposit in her subconscious which becomes a problem as the past casts shadows over the present…

I guess in this sketch I don’t have to detail what kicked to this girl, developing, that made her like this as she dealt with concepts that had messed up her frame of reference in regards to sex and the polarity shifts within as you, reader, should be more than capable of drawing the links of what manifests but I shared this as its a great example of why most people who elect for surgical intervention never just have one fix because the same force rears its head again and again until it gains acceptance as it is and not a twisted manipulation aka the thorn that turned within to manifest the (false) self that sits at the helm of most of the planet. Her tale was most visceral and she was so completely honest that it felt like the world she knew was being ripped from her lids which, only then, revealed their closedness as slim TVs had been stitched that broadcasted a script of the character she lived that was penned from within by forces, disconnected, yet still present. Don’t get it twisted, I’m not saying that same sex relations and such things are a problem or not natural. Far from it. What I pushed the pen to highlight in this article is that we, as people, are far more complex and intricate than most dare admit as many are pulled, that way and this, by forces we barely comprehend and this wholesale madness has the entire world in its grip. She was smart enough to click that if the chase presents more of a thrill than the getting there is something, within, that is also inverting the same deal and using the projection to keep the thoughts, submerged, from the surface.

Vincent knew this as he lived in the shadows depth hence why he could do what he did with brutal effectiveness. His undoing came when he stepped out of his zone he knew well and developed a sense of empathy for Max as they pushed their buttons, respective, and this, in the end, bought the repressed demon out of him that was finally allowed free reign from his domineering mothers ways and the rest that made him like this as he’d manned up, rescued the projection of his feminine and then capped the clear and present threat to become a far better version of himself than would be possible without the antagonist jamming a monkey wrench in his carefully constructed coping mechs that ensured he’d never accomplish that of which he was capable as he kept postponing instead as to face the shadows depth filled him with intrinsic dread. Do you think he went back to driving a cab after this and telling immense fibs about will eventually happen when its all perfect? Ask your Self:

“What the F are you still doing driving a cab?” next time you feel this curious mix of instant pleasure that presents to assuage a stress you’ll try and pretend doesn’t it have its grip or, like the girl in question, who milked the male she detested for dividends to generate a string of women flowing in and out of her bed that, in the end, left her feeling unfulfilled as there was a deeper wound, screaming for attention, and she’d spent her entire life and self concept investing in the opposite as the the thought of the shadows depth left her shaking with emotions, discombobulated. I’ll let her end it:

“Sometimes, in bed, I’d ponder my role in all of this. How I always lead, always seduced, always went after them, hated if they acquiesced too quick, often started drama and fights for no reason in stable relationships and generally acted like a huge dick. I can’t believe I never drew the links between the emotional interplay and physical aspects as, saying it out loud, its mad obvious, isn’t it? Who knew I was truly scared of my own internal feminine and how, from the depths, she had been running everything and it took the idea changing the face I knew well to snap me out of this spell as it was my body that, previously, felt weakly imperfect and thus I wept when there were no more personals to be bested and I was in the best shape I’d ever been, physically, but mentally was wrecked. Man is, most certainly a curious machine of desire creation” she said as she got out of the car, started walking and comprehended the gun was in her grip and had been, off rip, as she is now far more content than she’s ever been and feels internally free to embrace her true Self and not the story in her head that was designed to hide the mess that most would rather die than ever check. Her example is exceedingly powerful as it highlights, real well, the power of sex, money and attraction along with the undeniable forces of introspection and awareness when it comes to recoding your internal OS into a state of far greater coherence than most thought possible.

The cab is what we use to protect and project out, into this realm, that of which we believe we’re capable. The driver, or pilot, if you will, that sits at the helm would rather be anywhere than this but feels he as no options. Most pick them in ignorance and then build their entire self concept around them and thus will react with violence if you challenge their assumptions. The rare few, the 8%, are capable of Knowing the Ledge and seeing if they’re truly scratching the itch or ignoring it and pawing at a reflection instead. Thats how powerful the (false) self is, my friend. The hitman can be a life event, random insight or traumatic imprint that makes us question the narrative and, in effect, those who face it chase their demons, slay them and integrate what they repped as they are no longer identified with Max or Vincent and thus the cab is irrelevant as is the pistol grip of a coping mech hence they create the Path by walking and are not afraid to melt as you are, in the end, water vapor rendered solid as snowman of consciousness who is nothing more or less than a direct resonance of the all of everything.

Till we meet again

Fake Dollar Bills, Parallel Realities and the Works of Philip K Dick

“Reality” as it stands is a very clever and stealthily implemented construction that, to the well adjusted to such immense sickness, is as invisible as water to a fish that swims in a glass maze and Thunks its totally normal. That spell, alone, tells you everything you need to know about this realm. A step above them we have those that ponder, lightly or at depth, the true nature of the sketch and beyond that crew we have the few that either end up in mental asylums, totally convinced there are invisible forces all around tormenting them and playing with their perceptions or they become adepts of the Path you create by walking as they comprehend that this realm does not exist without their presence and thus all things are within their awareness. Thats about the sketch, as far as I can tell but, as always, you should accept nil and actively attempt to prove my thesis incorrect as I follow my own guidance and none can step in my shoes for we each have our own trek just as I reject theirs in all forms and resonance. How do you gain such gnosis? Simple:

Question everything.

Nothing is as it seems in this realm and all is a test once you comprehend the shadows depth hence why I’ve said its a Game of three halves, my friend. Its what you don’t know you don’t know (and thus, never even suspected) that exerts the most influence. The problem is your greatest strengths are wrapped in papers built of fear and dread but once it clicks they are too simply constructions one can start reversing the rites and getting to grips with the present moment aka the golden circle. This is why you see red and blue everywhere from politics to crips and bloods as well as boxing rings as they symbolize the shift that makes your weakness the strength of the predator of consciousness which manifests as that voice in your head that tells you how it is. You have, in effect, into a parallel existence in which you accept labels in lieu of sensations and this is why life doesn’t feel anywhere near as rich and vivid as it once did. This is also the reason why, if you’re lucky enough to nibble, the carrot on your head doesn’t ever quench the thirst you possess as the stick that whips your rear end keeps you running the treadmill from one life to the next.

Can you see why people would flip their lids in the attempt if they stepped into a higher dimension of consciousness and tried to navigate a place that is three dimensional using a Two D blueprint? Listen, if you’re happy and content in ignorance then more power, my friend. Enjoy it. As a jit I could not comprehend the validity of this mindset when the view of wishing to be like them was shared by one jaded by the trek but now I get it. The thing is that your mind is like a balloon and thus its present, unfulfilled state, is but a hint of what kicks once its filled with energetics. The schizo, in effect, finds his has a dirty kind of filthy liquid pouring in and that is then popped with pins as their awareness becomes more porous hence the visions. The mystic, on the flip, gains a belt of helium and ascends much like a snowman made of ice (steam at its lowest vibration, recollect?) as the sun of higher consciousness shines, melts it and as the drips go through the same process they gain a vapor mindset that recollects the familiar newness of such intense freedom. That, as you can guess, is petrifying to those who believe the script and proclaim, loudly, that they are John of house Smith who likes that and this but isn’t too keen on other things. All an illusion, my friend. Thats the greatest trick or cosmic wheeze, if you will.

Parallel realties are all around. Its not a one and done thing as they’re like a Matrix within a Matrix. Let me give you an example:

Money is worth nothing beyond what the people who spend it Thunk it is. I shared an example of a hustler who clocked a grip by buying on Dollar bills that had been washed and reprinted with a couple of extra zeros that made all the difference. Nothing from nothing leaves nothing but, in this case, they set the stage for some deeper thinking. Lets rewind:

“It has to be, bar none, the greatest hustle the world has never seen” said he who had moved smooth as silk to penthouse from pavement as we conversed in my office. “It really is. I mean, its a literal license to steal peoples life essence and the crazy thing is they’ll thank you for it. Kind of weird, isn’t it? And yet, I felt such an immense amount of power when it was in my grip as I had the dividends to make others do as I wished just by peeling off a stack and telling them to go handle it. They ran off, accomplished the task and got the numerical pat on the head, as promised. Its like you said about school being a concentration camp, par excellence. That really made me grin and if I had kids I’d certainly home school them as all I learned came from seeing the world how it is and not what they tell. Its bizarre, so bizarre. Anyway, how did you come to click the code of the Matrix as I remember before we met one of my friends regaled a tale you’d shared about there are billions of different worlds that exist only in our heads and we are, in effect, Jesus who is, daily, crucified in our dome between the hemispheres that manipulate our awareness. The guy didn’t get it and complained you’d blown his high and torn his mind to shreds when he came back with some skins but I was intrigued as, whilst I’m not religious, I can appreciate a good parable so from where did that thought kick?”.

I told him about my adventures with schizos and how, at some point, they all said they felt like the divine being tortured and when I put to them that I’m a figment of their imagination that, for them, represents sanity and something solid they all nodded their heads because, ten out of ten, never hallucinated shifts in my presence and that was most interesting because, to me, each of them repped various parts, damaged. “Its like your adventure with the priest that stole your innocence and, in effect, created a demon who was oddly righteous in certain things but downright wicked in others. We all have this schism within. A fight between god and the Devil, if you wish, in which one side says bad things with a grin and the other advises caution and reverence. He sat there, taking it in and didn’t say a thing for quite a bit.

“Interesting. I wouldn’t totally agree with that concept but, as I’ve aged, I’ve came to realize that, back when, a lot of what I did was motivated by revenge and a burning desire to get ahead. When I finally climbed that hill and was secure and confident I found that too was just an illusion as other parts of me were still broken. I had to keep the facade though because the pavement won’t relent if it senses a weakness but, in that respect, I was lucky as I never gave it the big un and, as far as the world could tell, my elder brother ran the whole operation… Oh heck, thats a parallel reality, isn’t it?“. He cracked a grin, shook his head and reached for his cigarette which he lit, took a hit and then mentioned:

“Thats pretty intriguing. So by studying the ways of madmen and comparing their views to the so called sane you concocted this viewpoint, yes?”. I nodded my head. “Hmm, so where did the pixels and such things fit into this? At what point did that click?”. I mentioned the start of Super Mario All Stars in which the entire clique is standing there, in darkness, happily talking, then the lights are hit and they take their positions playing various facets of the presentation. “To my mind it seemed like they were all actors. I mean, its a Game, for certain, but it did make me think how a regular man wound up bumping and grinding with a princess whilst a reptilian king was constantly kidnapping and lets not forget about the superhuman strength the shroom did beget and how they kept on assuming the position, again and again. There had to be a deeper meaning and it made me ponder, at length, at the symbolism they repped. Not to mention that the quantum leap that kicked from 8 to sixteen bit meant that they’d just keep on getting better and better then the proto net, back when, in which I could talk to someone else, instantly, across the planet and they could send a file, ones and zeros, that went from nothing to something. I just drew the links and let my imagination fill in the rest”. He’d been laughing through all of this and mentioned:

“Come to think of it, yes. I played that game as well but never, ever stopped to notice the first bit as I wanted to get into the action. I guess nothing is hid and it they place it in front it so obvious most will never click. Smart. So whats the end game then? How does one reclaim their Soul? Not that I believe in such things but lets class this as an experiment, yes?”.

I hadn’t yet, fleshed the concept out to such depths as I possess at the present and said something akin to:

“Well, Mario, made of pixels, must realize that his desires, actions and whims take place inside a creation with set rules and limits but beyond this plane, Two D, limited, there is a being of bone and flesh with his own consciousness that directs his actions and if he clicks he’s him and not the plumber with a princess who likes a bit of rough, now and then, he’s ten steps ahead of the rest, dig?”. He’d started laughing again and said:

“Thats something, it really is. Good luck with it. Anyway, I’ve got to go as I’ve got another meeting and just passed by to drop off a little something something I think may be of interest as it floated across my desk and felt like it was meant to be in your grip”. He shared a book by Philip K Dick called Clans of the Alphane Moon. This short script, from the Sixties, outlined a premise that went like this:

There was a planet, like Earth, in which the nutters were sent to live on the moon as the regular peeps had had enough of their ranting and raving. The crazies revolted, took over the asylum, and arranged themselves in a caste system where certain maladies handled specific aspects that played to their strengths whilst others did their own thing and, overall, it worked pretty well. Thing is the Earth wanted that space back and intended to take it from these loonies using any means it could think… The paranoid are heads of state as they’re so foreward thinking (not a spelling mistake) whilst the manics keep a weapon in grip and full clip, ready to rip, as the soldier section. The schizos push the pen and created their religious texts with a poetic lilt thanks to their extremely sensitive visions and the hebephrenics did the laboring and kept the cogs of the machine turning with tasks, menial. We have a few other classes as well like the Polys who are most creative, the OCD aspect handled the paperwork with a fastidious mindset that ensures everything is perfect and filed in triplicate then checked again to ensure its correct whilst the depressives sit alone in their own personal darkness and ruminate at depth about what truly kicks and how they got into this mess with a nearly endless string of recriminations in their heads.

This is what I meant, in another text, about feeling like the universe was conspiring to make me win as I’d read, voracious, but never been a fan of science fic as I liked things to be more grounded and practical as I rarely checked the non factuals as my quest, back then, was for the purest product and datasets one could get. Little did I click how much of an impression the writings and life of this man would have on my awareness as, in PKD, I felt a kindred spirit who had, back when, glimpsed the code of the Matrix and wondered if he was losing his mind or actually seeing future memories. Time proved that correct as many of his works became major motion pics that highlight, really well, the world that is coming when carbon and silicon mix to beget Techno Sapiens. Art is a lie that tells the truth, my friend, as that is the only way people so well adjusted to immense social sickness can accept the genuine as to comprehend their entire world is a fiction – like the money, mentioned – is akin to ripping the VR specs from their head and bringing them face to faceless with a grim reality that will have them shrieking in fear at the implications… Such is the plight of the schizo and many mystics as well because when you get to the top of the hill and have walked over the thorns that become rose petals instead and meet the goddess you look down at the Valley of the Plebs and wonder what the hell kicks. Many men choose to stay on the peak as the descent, to them, makes no sense as A) the others haven’t walked the Path and B) they’re set adrift on the bliss of higher consciousness and have no wish to taint it with a visit to the trenches as madness is contagious but darkness wishes to extinguish the light of candle in its midst as it threatens the folks who sell electric bills to the rest… I mean, haven’t you ever wondered who keeps sending the prophets the other side kills dead and why that spell is a homonym for the intended end result of the endeavors of all pimps, preachers and politicians plus those in their grip who hand their power over to them in exchange for a script and empty promises that never delivered on what they said as the aim is to keep the bread, circusing, and force feeding the skits to the gluten and dairy intolerant who do not click it was the DMT elves that got them into this mess called “Being Human”?

Its why I’ve said there are dangers to deprogramming but some of us still hear the drum beat of Inner Sense we marched to, back when, and will do anything to keep its funky rhythms and groove they beget as you shake and twist your awareness in ways mysterious to peer around the corners of the vortex and map it until you click the black cube in the midst of reality that everyone, directly or in, worships. What is it? Well, you’re using a facet of it to read this text. Mind blowing, isn’t it? Thats parallel realities, in full effect and PKDs work was filled with riffs on this theme as he suspected we have a demented intelligence at the helm of this realm that gains a perverse pleasure from suffering and cheap tricks and only those labelled as mentally unwell actually have a chance of transcending the algorithm as the deception is all encompassing. Thing Total Recall in which his friends tell him not to go to Mars, his wife is an agent designed to keep him in check and his true girl, genuine life and the rest are all on the red planet which had been calling to his awareness.

The book is called “We can remember it for you, wholesale” and we have a man working a job, menial, who is constantly dreaming of a girl, brunette, on Mars and a life, quite different. There is a biz that sells the idea and memories, implanted, of having gone on vacation instead of actually taking the trip and thus he decides to invest. Everyone in his circle is against this. When he drops in, and before the mind remix, he somehow gains anamnesis of his real life as a highly trained secret agent that, somehow, is now working construction on another planet. Cue mucho hi jinx as he thinks the memories are fake and his brain has been flipped, sautéed then garnished, par excellence by those who sell head trips. Nothing could be further from the truth and thus he sets off on a quest filled with more ins and outs than a porno flick.

One of the most fascinating things about this text was how much of what he said and did matched the testament of the schizos around the ends as they, often, commented that unseen forces were reading their minds and tampering with their awareness. None of them thought they were secret agents but they often mentioned dreams that felt hyper real and had them questioning if the current life was actually an illusion and the other them was the real thing. As you can probably guess this begets lots of confusion and thus they’d come rushing to my drop in and feel reassurance, immense, when I was still sporting the same face on my head, identical vocal tones and wavelength plus they could spill their insights with no fear of increased doses and pills. In such an occasion I discovered something quite miraculous as a dude was flitting in and out of psychosis and, previously, I’d had tremendous success in generating temporary sanity with an immense influx of B Vitamins. I put it to the test again and whipped up a drink that I handed and he, without question, chugged it and continued with his retelling. It was absolutely amazing watch him shift to total lucidity as the narratives tint did shift and then, after about twenty six minutes, he was back to raving. I gave him another hit and, boom, he was cogent. I asked him to recount what he’d just said a moment before the sip and how it felt in comparison to now. To him there was no stitch moment, no shift. It was pure liquid consciousness taking the shape of whatever it was poured in, without question.

“Say, whats in this? It tastes real swell and I quite like it”. I handed him the box of powder that contained a condensed B Vitamin complex of which one was supposed to take a mg scoop and told him I’d been shoveling it in in tablespoons instead. I also gave him a pad and pen and asked him to log what kicked as he worked his way through it to see if he could spot the shifts as they kicked as the movement may be subtle so I requested he imperiment and sip quick sometimes and hold off until the point of breaking at others and jot down his observations. This he did and when he left I started looking more into the inflammation side of madness and how orthomolecular medicine could really help way more than psychotic pills as, to me, it felt like his mind was baking a cake that needed sugar but that wasn’t in his mental kitchen so it, instead, grabbed salt as it ticked the “Supposed To” boxes as being white, granulated and nearby located. As you can guess what it whipped up and force fed him tasted disgusting but seeing as we eat consciousness on the reg and are our own chefs what can you do but lump it?

If you’ve never read the works of PKD I’d highly, highly recommend them and if you can make it through his Exegesis without your mind melting you’re doing pretty well as I’d be willing to bet you’ve already contemplated a few of things he said about life from his lens as, to me, he was a modern prophet slash ancient mystic that was fueled by immense hits of amphetamine and had his own peak experiences that ranged from being possessed by a spirit that improved his life, cleaned up his act, bought in more dividends and inspired massive leaps in insight to being shot in the head with a laser beam from a fish as well as the belief that the Roman empire never ended and this entire construction is an immense decep akin to a hologram of consciousness that means everyone is a hallucinating but the only difference between a depot injection in the rear end and becoming the man in the high castle is how much you do or do not question the narrative…

There we have a glimpse into fake dollar bills, parallel realities and the works of Philip K Dick and, in reality, I haven’t even started yet as this is but a teardrop being used as a telescope thing and thus I’d like to take a moment to extend my thanks to all that made this possible, on both sides of the fence, as, for me, the truth of this realm is Self evident hence an immense Game we play using our Souls as credits to which the nursery rhyme said, back when, does hint about the genuine nature of this Matrix and how to play to win:

“Row, row, row your boat (made of flesh)
Gently down the stream (of consciousness)
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
(for fear is false evidence appearing real)
Life is but a dream
(within a dream)”.

See? Its not whats said out loud with bold print but whats left in the silence for those who Know the Ledge to comprehend as its the spaces of darkness that interest he who dares awaken the Warrior within. I mean, haven’t you ever wondered why every single language in this realm hates the hand most don’t push the pen with and yet they rep a disproportionate amount of power mongers, celebs and presidents? I do hence why I’m ambidextrous and if you haven’t yet spoke to the child within thats a great place to get started as the ultimate parallel reality is that of Inner Sense and Adulteration aka the script you accepted, back when, and the life unlived that is stashed beneath your neck and manifests as all types of pains and things that, oddly, seem to shift from one place to the next and can only be dampened (not cured) with pills which is nigh on identical to the world of the schizo except these ills formed a bridge, revolted and wreaked havoc on his consciousness and when he tells what kicks they medicate him against his will and thus further prove that, yes, there are forces, invisible, that manifest through agents that are out to get him and nothing is what it seems in this realm.

As a parting shot, read this article and note how easily the brain is tricked then ponder why schizos do not fall for optical illusions. And, yes, those red dots are the same size so who you gonna believe – me or your lying eyes?

The Game of Souls has you, my friend.

Till we meet again