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.
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.
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…
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:
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:
“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…
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:
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:
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…
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 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:
“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:
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 thecountries 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:
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.
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:
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.
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:
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:
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”?
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)”.
Sounds familiar, yes? Now, know this, I’m not biting the Bible. You can consider this a remix like the countless hits that were built off the of riff the Amen Break bought to this realm. You may note that the weapon of your mind only has six slots ergo one will be left off the list. Peruse it at length, look within and do the Knowledge and it just may click that one sits, easily, at the top of the list as you identify its presence and the comfort it brings as your trigger finger doth itch in moments of stress, quiet reflec or any other time you wish to get biz and let rip with its familiar resonance. There will also be, conversely, one you have never, ever felt. Try it for your Self. Prove me incorrect. I, personally, can attest that I am a total stranger to the concept of Envy as it literally makes zero sense.
For me to hate on another man for doing it big is simply ridiculous because I’d rather learn and develop the skills it takes another to win and implement them myself. Even if that isn’t an option (if I don’t know the person or they may detest me and not wish to reveal their secret) I still keep it moving because to hate would be a waste of my precious energetics. Not so with Lust though… Hoo wee! That tops the list for me and I could think of a billion and one ways to rationalize it from saying that I’m simply worshipping at the altar of beauty in my appreciation of the sacred feminine but the truth of the matter is is the intent with which its driven – self gratification. Draw up the list. Do some checks and balances. In some areas you may find some interesting contradictions. For example, I have an immense Greed for helping. I get such a rush from it as, back when I had my practice, people would drop in feeling stressed about X,Y and Z then jet, uber fresh, with a new mindset that was A, B, C instead. To me it was like dealing with a puzzle as people often had the correct pieces but the order was a mess or they were looking in the wrong direction as well as so many other variables. I know what you’re saying “How can that be bad?“. Well, its the underlying motivation, what we’re escaping and secondary pay offs that provide a hint. For example, in my case, the motivation was an elaborate coping mech that projected fragments of my own inner turmoil onto the next who, as expected, manifested then presented with much simpler problems for me to handle. All of the while I was trying to escape my inner childs intense pain and suffering so you can imagine how he felt seeing everyone else get the help he was requesting. The pay off was that I got to feel special with a “I know you better than you know your Self” mindset but, in reality, all of these things were super basic because as I progressed in this lane I gained all of the tools and strength needed to finally face my greatest challenge and, once dealt with, willhelpme did kick as a refined expression in a higher octave with far more consciousness behind it. This is what I mean by upping your res and being totally honest with Self otherwise you’ll get the Hells Angels effect where you try and sell an image you don’t live and, worst of all, don’t feel genuine. Thats a masked existence and its exceedingly common and the main reason people are miserable… The mask always slips though. Just listen to this wretch who kept a hundred Ms on deck:
Charities are thieves, designed to fleece. Don’t get taken in by the narrative they spin as pimps, politicians and preachers are all playing the same Game. Getting back on thread you may have already guessed that Pride was also hidden in the mix of what I did as A) due to the thrill it brings and B) to say “You ain’t up on this” which demonstrates, real well, how there is an interplay of these threads to form a narrative but it wasn’t done to stunt, mainly, but inspire discussion as I’ve always had strong opinions, loosely held ergo the Knowledge was freely kicked with the “Each one, teach one” mindset that was naturally equipped because when you repeat what you’ve read (with your own twist and introspection) your retention rate is immense as you’re creating fresh neural circuits which means your Rolodex spins free versus rote repetition for the test which is forgotten the moment you’ve vomited what they said to get the grade needed to impress your parents and gain their affection.
An odd mindset for a college dropout with no credentials who mainly only went for a year to check out the gel, make connects and generate ends as everyones a client when a boss playa steps in. Wrath did flow in my veins for some, at the time, unknown reason as I had not a chip but a whole bag of potatoes balanced, quite well, on each shoulder as I stepped around the realm looking for problems. The above combination filled me with immense Pride that I rationalized as truth said because:
“Its not a lie. I really am that special”.
I shake my head as I recollect the sheer arrogance of lyrics that spilled and (false) self that said them. All to hide the wounds of the hurt child within who he’d actively reject and indulge, instead, in coping mechs. Lust is a huge part of this because you can be hitting skins or busting into a napkin as you take in pornographic visions on your television and sit with erection in grip. Its the intent that king, get it? Gluttony reared its head as “Nothing exceeds like excess!” was the song I’d sing as I took a rip, had a sip and generally did the best of the worst with those acclimatized to a ghetto environment as we all aimed to drown our pain and pseudo celebrate at the little gains we’d make as we played the Game to win… At one stage, me – who was usually quite slim – was big boneded in excess as I simply couldn’t stop consuming. I later clicked this was another coping mech that came up to tamp down the feelings of traumatic discontent that puberty did bring and that spurred the Lusting. Can you see how its all interlinked and how there is immense wisdom in what was writ? Are you making the list or is my leading by example akin to singing for the deaf? Push the pen, look within. If you’re drawing a blank or a new to introspecting sit with a friend who knows you well and play the brutally honest Game in which they tell it how it is based on the list and lace you with some examples. If they can’t do this they aren’t authentic and, guess what, that makes you fake as well. Here’s where we get into the octaves:
I came to note that whilst these were detrimental actions there was, often, a higher resonance. The example of sharing my Greed for helping anyone who’d ask was an example and this created a counterbalance that allowed me to recollect that there were, once upon a when, further chambers to access. For example, the opposite of Lust is Compassion. You’ll note the last bit of that spell contains an aspect of what made it but expressed with greater resonance as I constantly strove to uplift many in my surroundings with a diffused affection that felt boundless with no post nut clarity needed as it was far more spiritual in its ascent. My NDE and the events surrounding tore my ego to shreds ergo humility was forced upon my awareness like an abuse of the (false) self that forced me to introspect and second guess how the hell I ended up in this mess. That, I tell thee, was quite liberating really as it felt like a straight line in Tetris hit and melted huge blocks of ignorance. Not long after this I started fasting at extreme lengths after my first trip into the depths of feeling a stomach, rumbling, and just learning to sit with it and let what I’d previously suppressed come racing to the surface. One of the most amazing side effects of this is that your dreams gain IMAX vision as they’re super crisp and come correct as your subconscious and regular mind do connect when your body is cleansing. Throw in some saunas, filtered water and a hefty dose of Niacin and take it to a whole nother level. Being a Glutton I did this for hours at a stretch as I tend to overdo anything (“Nothing exceeds like excess!”, recollect?”) until I clicked what I was doing and learned the subtle art of Wu Wei aka effortless effort. That was an immense lesson as well as when one lessens the effort things tend to flow, perfect. Its like Bruce said:
Along the way I started to gain immense insight into my Wrath which manifested as anger and an altogether violent mindset. Heck, that would kick in as I’m talking as I tend to gesticulate to get my point across which I felt was like passion until, one day, I saw a friend drive by who hit the brakes, swung back again and jumped out of the whip and started acting real aggressive to the peeps I was standing, talking. “What up? They’re friends. Do you know them? Whats the problem?”. “Me? I’m cool. I thought you had beef because your face was raging and they looked like they were craving a frisk as you were all up in their grills so I came to help by obliging them on the cobbles, if thats what they wish. You know, some odd evening?” he said, with a grin.
That really made me think because you can never tell how you manifest to another and when one is in their element its as invisible as water to a fish. I asked these dudes later, when we next met, if my friends view was correct and they said:
“Well, sometimes you share your thoughts like you’re slinging bricks at my dish and whilst it can do my head in there is always something interesting because if anyone is that passionate about it its got to be considered, no offense”. They say we need others to reflect back the face we keep hid but they see really well and this interaction done did this with a quickness. So much so I actually started recording my conversation to see if I could catch my Self in the act of this intellectual violence and that led to an interesting imperiment where I reversed the speech and listened to what was said, backwords. That was super, duper interesting and I may speak of it elsewhen as, just like a wordsearch, the spells work in both directions and this is why you can tell, in an instant, when someone drops a fib as our subconscious is always listening. As I type this, after having laced you with some grist for the mill to get your own wheels turning, we get to the meat and potatoes of the topic:
Once you’ve click, click, clicked these rotations that you’ve cycled through in ignorance for your entire existence you’ll get to the point where you stop fingering the trig and hold back instead. Then you’ll spot the higher octave and once you implement this clip instead you’ll find you keep progressing (aka upping your res) until you return to the One Oh Eight chambers instead. Shimmy, shimmy, ya, shimmy, yam, shimmy, yay – Do you hear what I’m trying to say? By the way, did you know that ODB was a prophetic genius who Knew the Ledge way more than anyone else in his clique and how his presence was fundamental for the Clan bringing the ruckus, back when? I really will have to speak on this because whilst most had him pegged as the clown prince I knew that only a man of supreme intellect could play a buffoon that well as that was his coping mech and way of downplaying his genius whilst flying under the radar and dropping gems as well. If you were to check his clip, standard equip, you’d see Lust topped the bill followed swiftly by Sloth hence the ODB mindset. Just check the notes for the Fantasy session and what kicked:
Envy was also present but you could say that was the spirit of Hip Hop, back when, as it was fiercely competitive hence why his style has no father and thus cannot be imitated but that didn’t stop the sharks from trying to bite his skills and comedic antics that, for him, were totally natural whereas the rest were simply tracing his blueprint for clicks…
With an appetite for destruction that was immense you could tell when he was spinning his favorite hit of Gluttony as there wasn’t a drug, drink or women he met that he didn’t greet with open arms and a grin. In many ways this would be his undoing but, at a higher res, he was fighting all types of demons that manifest in the flesh. Ask George Bush and em… Being the litteriest pick in an elite clique brings a type of Pride as the labels all wanted to sign him which is how RZA gained all that leverage in a deal, unprecedented, and this mindset forced them all to up their skills as they all pushed the pen to impress the Wu Gambino clique. Finally we come to Greed which, in ways most ironic, could be demonstrated by collecting a welfare check with a platinum record but it was really low down on the list. You’ll note that Wrath, for him, did not exist and this made him supremely likable as even those who detested him couldn’t help but crack a grin at his childlike innocence and pure hearted antics. Something so rare and refreshing in the bricks. Like a concrete rose that cracks the pavement and sings, off key, as, to him, the song of life is perfect.
Now that you’ve pushed the pen and I’ve laced you with countless examples to help on your quest to do the Knowledge tell me, my friend, how far beyond the rusty six shooter are you at at the moment because the other chambers are, quite literally, out of this world as they belong to another stage of the Game when they were standard equipment and, in many ways, we’re all seeking this freedom as the code of the Matrix says “Thou shalt Thunk like this” whereas the Warrior raises a digit to these tricks, looks within and elevates his Self. You can consider the bullets as holes in your energetics from which your true potential was leaking but many encode this sensation as a hit that brings a grin when, in reality, it leaves them spent as its simply gratification for the (false) self and the predator of consciousness at the helm. Once the process is inverted and you’re reconnected to Inner Sense no weapons shall prosper, ever again, because the gun is always in your grip and the outer realm is naught but a figment of your imagination ergo you, effortlessly, come correct and dodge bullets like the Matrix as Slaves, plugged in, look and think “What the hell?”.
“I’ve got to push the pen, get them up on res and in a state of coherence because if one man sees it it could be a delusionbut if another takes his own steps on the Path you create by walking and our notes are identical then we may just have cracked the code to the Matrix“.
Many missed the Game he laced and what he was truly saying as they were too caught up in the image and antics presented by the press but, to me, ODB was on his way to returning to the One Oh Eight chambers as he was a master of the drunken style of crazy wisdom. The fact we fell so far, down, into the flesh where we only have six left and they’re filled with a pick from seven twisted bullets the System encourages you to indulge in before death hands the bill should be enough to make some, the 8%, do the Knowledge and comprehend that everything is a test and nothing is what it presents in this realm. Whats threedays mathematics then? Let keep it raw with the fact that Venus sits One Oh Eight million KM from the Sun which, itself, is the same digits flexed in the resonance of diameters of it between the Earth and its source of luminance which is identically repped, again, in how many suns fit from it and, on top of this, the moon sits the same deal from us and its radius is, you guessed it, One Oh Eighty Oh miles. Drums please!
Sink or swim. Most end up in asylums designed to prevent the seed of gnosis from flourishing within as they are pumped full of chemicals instead in order to generate compliance and silence. The ones who comprehend this entire realm takes place inside their awareness instead effect the coal to diamond principle and thus can never be hurt or manipulated again. Heal the past to be free in the present, my friend. Those at the helm operate with the mindset of a chef cooking live frogs in the kitchen as its all about degrees or increments so they don’t stretch their legs and escape from a scenario that doesn’t serve their best interests. Can you imagine, in this event, one is born who says:
Now, many listening would Thunk he’s a tinfoil loony thats obviously off his meds. Why? Because their education (created by the chef) trained them to accept what they get and the self same thing is currently being poured into little tadpoles heads as this corrupted way of being spreads from one gen to the next to sustain these events which are, in no way, shape or form, natural.
And yet, to them they adapt and thus the Devil they know best holds them in an iron grip draped in the finest of silks as they relabel their experience as a sauna type deal for relaxation whilst secretly being cooked from within thanks to their ignorance.
The most dangerous man in the world is actually a jit as only they possess Inner Sense and thus can tell the Emperor is actually naked. In that sketch the ones that sold false thread and performed mass hypnosis rubbed their palms with glee and mucho bank laughing as they found another flock to fleece because there has always been wolves among the sheep. Thats why the dangerous man is inherently of their kin because those round fluff balls simply can’t hang and present not a threat and thus the pack gets out, hunting.
“These tones you use, this French language as it is. This isn’t what we spoke, back when, and its not natural. Can’t you see the trick? Listen” he says as he speaks, native, and they decode as gibberish with huge run on sentences and a poetic lilt. Some laugh, most shake their heads, a few comment on how the weather is clement as they wipe the sweat from their necks. He seizes upon this:
The most dangerous man in their world points to the bills that hang over head which show who orders what dish and how they want it prepped. He tells them how unnatural a strange a kitchen is and how the water in a pot manipulates their senses. He shows them a moth that flew in and how it keeps bumping heads with a light that does the same thing. They simply refuse to comprehend, so effective is the nature of the System as, once invested in, any move against it is felt like an attack on themselves and thus they rush to protect it. Back home the holy toad ponders at depth the true scope of the mess his former friends and countrymen now dwell in.
“See, the chief wants a kingdom. Name, fame and acclaim. That is his Game. He can only achieve this aim via subjugation and manipulation of those he thinks are beneath him and thus he plays with their minds in order to influence their spirit. He knows that if they leave he loses his main attraction as no one comes to see him but, much like showbiz in that respect, they need the front men that cause the tills to ring and bring the money in. And yet, just like that swizz, people line up to be fed to the beast which feasts on them. Truly, this a problem of frogs and men. What else can we do but send messengers in with signals of resonance designed to awaken their true consciousness by seeing what is in front of them without the tint in their heads that tells them to expect high temps and wrinkled skin as signs of what they call natural aging when its actually a tell of the manipulation“.
See, the main difference between those who are free and ones plugged in is they’re in touch with their divine resonance. Haven’t you ever thought it was a strange that amphibians in this realm excrete psychedelic chemicals that cause one to trip and how humans can do exactly the same thing but we are totally estranged from such wisdom due to the nature of hells kitchen which programs one to run the treadmill? Same chef, different realm.
The most dangerous man in the world is he who Knows his Self as then all bets are off as this floating casino drifts in the abyss as he comprehends its simply a figment of his imagination. I mean, if you look at a man tripping you’ll notice he see things that aren’t present and how the world shifts around him in ways that feel palpable. To a sober head they may appear strange but what if you could low dose and reg the vision and train people to become tuned in like an old radio set? What then? Better yet, imagine you could convince them to implant silicon under their skin which does just this but also blocks certain chemical pathways and reactions in ways invisible that have far reaching consequences so the next frog sent in who starts speaking French is automatically translated as random babble thats then sent to the “Pay no attention to this loony toon, he’s obviously off his meds” as they get back and connect to their little frog matrix in which they live, die and repeat in order to ensure business is booming in this franchise operation which now dreams of selling its model the rest and exporting it to other planets in which men who would be chefs will fall over themselves and make oaths in secret to become like Oannes the head fish who reigns over the frogs in the kitchen whilst appearing to sell them salvation…
Taking what another says and accepting it for your Self.
Really stop and ponder the implications of this, my friend, for they are immense. Look, a baby is born and they are helpless as they are totally dependent on those who care for them but, after a couple of spins you note the digits they ref with “Terrible” as they swiftly put down their attempts at rebellion. Has anyone ever stopped to consider what kicks and the childs reason for doing this? Of course not. They look at their diminutive stature and class them as idiots that know not the ways of the world and thus must be trained. In what, exactly? To be as miserably disconnected from their inner realms as their parents who make the same pie in the sky investments as their folks before them whilst being trained to run the treadmill from birth to death and back again? Nope, not for me. Call it what you will but I simply refused to give in. It could be linked with the two near death experiences I had before crawling and various other things that stopped my Soul fully materializing via the flesh but, to me, it all seemed backwards as hell and totally lacking innerstanding.
That attitude, as you can guess, didn’t go down well with parents and the rest who attempted to claim any type of authority over me and, eventually, would culminate in a triumvirate of friends that drugged and hypnotized me to engage in sex magick designed to bring about my final death. Didn’t happen. Neither did they relent. If anything they upped the ante since then and so much about a little bit is way more evident than its ever been and my mindset makes perfect sense because there is, currently, a war for your mind raging across this planet and its been like that since Moses wore the shortest of pants and sashayed down the strip in Egypt. Probably even before then, who can tell, as its called “His Story” for a reason. Note how “My Story” is a mystery aka the life unlived and thus unexamined as people are quite content to accept orders from that voice in their head, put in the least amount of effort and generally mill around the Valley of the Plebs with the rest who are just as discontent but would rather lie, dead, than admit the truth of this. Not even to themselves. There is a very, very simple way of proving this and it involves taking three days of total isolation with limited food intake and paying heed to what kicks. I assure those who attempt they’ll never be the same again as they come face to faceless with a predator of consciousness that currently sits and them and tell them what to think. Well, Thunk is more accurate but that didn’t fit the rhyme scheme.
Richard Pyror – one of the first comics to embrace being totally genuine and making his life and mind the basis of his sketch – commented on in it in this thread and its, quite possibly, one of the most astute observations from a comic, ever. Coming up next would be the massively underrated Patrice O’Neal who refused to tap dance for a deal but left bars of solid gold on the web for those seeking the realness of relationships, life and the occasional random tangent. Have you ever met someone who says “Hi!” in a fake squeaky voice to belie more energy than is present? What did you do next? Match sync or reject the suggestion?
There it is. The biggest thought crime everyone accepts. Its as subtle as it is pernicious, my friend. One of the most wicked things in this realm is the sect of Slave/Masters who A) created the thoughts in your head and B) profit off your ignorance but its C) that is of most interest:
They rely on niceness. How many times has someone came over to you and started blabbing and you play along, nod your head, instead of saying:
“Respectfully, this is of no concern to me and if you wish to speak can you choose a better topic or I’m gone?”.
Nobody would do this for fear of the rudeness but what of the other who is, often, psychoemotionally vomiting their filth and, the moment they jet, you turn a friend and disrespect them for this. But what of the you within that you dishonored by playing pretend? See what I mean about this thought crime? Now you’ve seen it you’ll spot it but lets see what kicks when you want to break the habit of a lifetime… Taking it back to comedians its interesting how Eddie, in one sketch, summed up two immense truths about the world as it is:
I really do wonder what the point of me doing this is? Those who Know will hate me for the attempt and those being controlled by ignorance will detest the implication that they’re being called simpletons. A tiny slice of the planet will hear me on FM but, in the end, the chosen choose themselves and either way, they’d get it. So why, like Mr Anderson, do I persist? Simple. Because I choose to. You’ll notice that the machine could not comprehend (nor map) the irrational aspect and its this tiny space that is of such importance when it comes to seeing the bigger pic as its a cue (and clue) to the middle of the vortex which spins aka Inner Sense. Case in point, if ever viewing an apartment or thinking of changing where you live bring along a baby and note their reaction. They give not an F about the drapes, the school zoning or the rest of the mess but deal in pure energetics instead and thus will either grin or yell. There is the answer you’re seeking. Its the same, I believe, with feeding. Dig:
Children know when they’re hungry and they intuit when to stop eating. The problem comes when parents attempt to force vegetables into them and I firmly believe they’re filled with antinutrients, chemical pestilence and are no longer mineral dense thanks to intensive farming practices as well as deceptive marketing tricks. I strongly think there is a link between this and their innate state of rebellion as they very often reject the cruciferous which stink and contain glucosinolates and goitrogens that detrimentally effect the thyroid which, in turn, sits at the throat and modulates the free expression of said complaints. Are you starting to get my drift and how its all interlinked? Not to mention your apples and such things are a year old hence why they’re on the shelves, out of season. That doesn’t mean you should fill them up with ice cream and chocolate as such things are designed to hit many switches but it generally undermines their own investment in Spirit and the confidence it brings knowing they are listening to the quiet voice within and its being heeded. Instead, into this void, we sprinkle the seeds of the (false) self and once thats at the the helm is a wrap for them…
In a nutshell, what I’m saying is that, back when, your internal realms were invaded by authority figures who intended to assert their dominance and show you “the way life is”. You, instinctively, rebelled at this violation and the more you protested the less they accepted what you said ergo they used a war of attrition to do you in. I didn’t give in. Not during any of the abuse, beatings, degradation and the rest from incep till present as I sensed, intuitive, there was something important within that should be nourished and protected which is what I’ve termed Inner Sense. This is who we are, in essence. Its pure, raw, vital and unfiltered. It tells it how it is – not with malice or ill will, just by being refreshingly direct. Its really quite awesome and one of the reasons I attest I’m the luckiest man on the planet as its allowed me to do some pretty amazing things as there are no limits in my head. These are what I mentioned in another missive about the glass maze effect that most are trained to accept. Its also why it was a child that broke the trance of the collective who were unaware of their ignorance about the Emperors undress as they bought into the hype that was aiming to trick. Thats power, isn’t it? Being able to define reality in accordance to your whims and having another accept the imprint as their inherent blueprint, without question.
Individual is a hint of the deeper schism and its two words that did you in but the blueprint was etched way before sperm met egg and it will, without your bit, roll on unchecked until Siri flips the script and slots into your kids iris and uses the bitten apple to lead the way… To what, exactly? The fact that this subterranean dominance is as oblique as it is ubiquitous makes you wonder of the fruit that springs from such a poisoned orchard, yes? Well, it has me thinking hence the minority reporting via this edict which says your mileage could and should vary and I guess that is what my role is in this realm is because the above perspective is the outcome of me doing the Knowledge and your view could say something else but if its exceedingly generic and held by lots of the rest you could argue you’re not in possession of it but are actually possessed and thus what is at the helm will gnash and wail to prevent you clicking the trick and that leads us right to the principalities of wickedness and its deeper meaning.
If one were of a paranoid bent they could comment that there appears to be a dual reality, in full effect but seeing as one is more than enough for the well adjusted to handle that would, no doubt, be swiftly dismissed as tin foil nonsense. But what if they were correct though?
Lets pretend you’re the only Soul in this realm. Actually, you don’t really have to imagine that well because its not far from the truth. Have you pondered, at depth, how one man can meet ten and they all draw differing opinions of him? Well, I have. Repeatedly. One of the most interesting conclusions from this imperiment was how it became Self evident that we hate those who display the exact characteristics we cherish as part of our own wavelength. Isn’t that fascinating? I think it is as, once upon a when, a friend noticed someone leaving my premises as he strolled in and said, without a trace of irony presented:
The chap in question was what most would term “arrogant” but he, himself, commented:
“I’ve got the skills to back up my flex so its simply the truth said, isn’t it? If they don’t like it, thats their problem as I’m too busy clocking wins”.
Like I said, ironic as the other gent possessed a nigh on identical wavelength. You are welcome to test this. Just think of someone you met and, instantly, detested. For some the beef is eternal. Others become friends when you discover you have so much in common. This is down to what I’ve termed Octaves as we are naught but stories wearing flesh and that, itself, is a hint about this immense Game we play using our Souls as credits as we’re literally poetry in motion who, once upon a when, used to dance and sing before the System did its thing with two decades of legally mandated brainwashing that said “Sit still, look ahead. Do well on the test or your parents will stress” and other such programming.
When COVID kicked can you recollect how you met this wavelength that was saturating the planet with its invisible influence? I do, real well, and spoke about it a bit in this article but lets go in depth:
I rose, stretched, read, pushed then pen and then, around twelve, I clicked that life was simply too quiet around the ends as the usual hustle and bustle was missing. I looked out, beyond the windowsill and was greeted by birds making a din. “Hmm, thats unusual” methinks as I looked around the pavements and saw they were deserted. The shops were closed and there were no vehicles. An immense smile crept across my lips and my brain started processing these events to find a narrative that could fit. I Am Legend popped into my mindset as I said:
“No way! I’m the last man left on the planet? Everyone else is either dead or has vanished. Cool!”.
I leapt down the steps with my anticipation building like a million kids awaiting a billion gifts that jolly old Saint Nick (aka the Devil in a new dress) promised them in exchange for their veneration. Actually, lets expound on this, yes? For a large chunk of my childhood, if not all, I never got those shiny toys and trinkets promised by one who, for some reason, could not manifest via the front entrance. Not to say I was impoverished but you don’t miss what you never get, correct? When I discovered the whole thing and how kids believed in this bit I found it ridiculous and questioned their logic and investment as well as the nature of their parents who sell deceptions to them in exchange for temporary grins. As time progressed I built onto this hypothesis and let me share something that should make you think about the stranger bearing gifts:
Both he and the Devil are linked with the name Saint Nick. People accept this without question but the Warrior prefers depth over surface level ignorance that hides truths, unmentioned. Both can’t use the front door and must gain other access. Both are linked with hooves, cloven. Both promise material riches in exchange for an investment in their presence as one who shares his bounties with them and both live in places intemperate. Sprinkle in the color red, the power of flight, being in many places in one instance and you have to wonder:
If he’s calling you a ho, triplicate, then doesn’t that make him a pimp, par excellence? To me it made perfect sense or are these the coping mechs of a jit that never got any gifts but plenty of ass whuppings for not following the regulations? I’ll let you tell it. Anyway, so I’m barreling down the steps with, what I guess, must be the anticipation of said jits and, with eyes big, I strolled along the pavements taking in the new wavelength. The Earth seemed to agree with me as it felt like it was sighing with relief at the ease of an immense burden that seemed intent on killing it. It wasn’t the night before Christmas but there was not a Soul to be seen in this realm and my grin was threatening to crack my countenance as it spread across my lips. Eventually I found what kicked and this is one the best examples of why I’ve said watching the news is bad for your health as I ignored all that mess, saw through the camera tricks and, a few months hence, noticed people were ambling along the streets with a hollowed out look on their dish that I’d only seen in the Hitler documentaries, mentioned elsewhen. They could not comprehend why I felt so spry and vivid. I spent that time getting into the best shape I’d ever been and felt so amazing, thanks to the isolation, as the beach was all mine as was any other place I’d pick. Sure, a few scowled at me not wearing a mask or following the regs but I did have one interesting conversation on the topic of sanitation with a woman who asked me my secret for shining bright in the darkness:
“You’ve know me for quite a while, yes?”. She nodded her head behind a mask, paper thin, whilst wearing gloves seen in kitchens or theaters or operation as she stood quite a distance. “Well, the secret is based on an old imperiment I did as I clicked that when one gets a cold or sniffles you can always spot it coming via the tingles that manifest, first, in ears or neck, correct?”. She, once again, nodded her assent. “The truth of the matter is that when this kicks I instantly reach for some hydrogen peroxide, three percent, and gargle with it then place a few drops in my ears as well. I strongly suspect thats the main point of entrance for bacteria, viruses and such things. By doing this form of disinfection when the threat is basic I remain in great health”. She took it in and, being of good intelligence, said:
“That makes a load of sense but this is different. Its highly virulent and can kill in an instant. You should be more careful”. I relayed the example of the first atomic bomb testers being handed sunglasses with a cheery “These will protect”. She started laughing. I congratulated as I mentioned that grins boost the immune system whereas stress depresses it. A light bulb hit within and, seeing as I had her ignorance on the ropes, I unleashed a beautiful combination with:
“Thats about as much use as your cheap Chinese mask filled with who knows what chemicals is. Matter of fact, its probably more dangerous as it acts like a dragnet that captures all kinds of bad things and then provides them with a breeding environment right next to where they’d gain access so, if I were tinfoiling, I’d say this whole thing is one percent truth, ninety nine percent fiction and most problems that manifest are people doing it to themselves out of ignorance by following what they said. Not to mention that the constant hand sanitizing and OCD level cleanness prevent the build up of resistance by good bacteria and such things that are needed for your immune system to function well”.
She had a straight line in Tetris moment. Right there, on the pavement. When next we met she was facially naked and feeling safely content and, wouldn’t you know it, since then she has had approximately zero sniffles. Even when colds were raging. Whilst we were intensely different I found a common resonance that spoke to the doubts she had, lingering, but daren’t address as the screen said it was comply or death. Me? I don’t have those problems. Me? I don’t give an F about what any so called authority outside of Self has to say about anything and seeing as I started that trip with a rising wavelength it wasn’t about to relent due to some regulation Nazi attempting to do their bit with the “I’m just following orders” mindset. We all know what you get from doing this, yes? Man, that was an immense tangent so lets get back to the thread instead:
Grab a pad and pen. Note down three you detest and the same you call friends. Check their skills, impressions and what kicks then find the correlate in Self. Most we label best actually possess something we also cherish but, often, haven’t developed within which is what makes their resonance so attractive. Some, if you’re lucky, may bring this out of you. You need to skip past the basics like:
“We went to the same schools as kids and like the same things” rhetoric and truly dig. Like the flashy arrogant kid who hated the same resonance manifest in another playa in this realm as it threatened his sense of individuation. When I pointed this out to him he fairly yelled:
“I’m nothing like him. Nothing. Its like you don’t know who I am or can’t recognize greatness in your presence? He’s a fake, a phony who pretends. I’m the real thing. An original with no duplicate”.
I asked him to take a break from the stims for a month or six then tell me how he felt as I mentioned that his nemesis was also fond of amphetamines as well and he, like him, was a fat kid, back when, before he started lifting, hustling and cracking skulls to make a name for himself on the pavement. The ears of ignorance are stone deaf to whatever the lips of wisdom done said and thus he shook his head then mentioned:
“Nope. Never in a million. Whats that got to do within anything anyway?”.
The more I sat and reflected I realized these two were nigh on identical in so many respects ranging from story to lineage as well as musical tastes and innate gifts to getting paid. Even down to the women they would pick as this was one of their main bones of contention as they’d often hit the same targets. One must recollect that, back when, the only place that played “Urban” music was a dingy spot in the bricks that picked a night, usually dead, to have their club filled to the gills with pavement terrorists who sang, chapter and verse, from the scriptures etched by Saint Makaveli to his congregation of thugs, delinquent. As you can probably guess that meant you ran into the same people, as and when, plus the females were rotated ergo things would be smooth as silk as we all popped drinks and linked till it got to around twelve and you’d hear:
“Hence why I fornicated with your belxved, you obese scoundrel!” come thundering across the PA system and then it was on like Donkey Kong as the monkeys were humbled, real quick, and barrels did tumble whilst the hammer clicked as someone got tapped in the head and leaked their blood onto the pavement. Then on the night went with its regularly scheduled resonance. Ah! Fun times before CCTV and DNA tests, I tell. Clubbing, back when, was like the Wild West as anyone who was around before camera phones and bottle service will attest because everyone was out to F something and if that didn’t kick they’d just F someone else up instead. Either way, they’d find someone to oblige them… Lets pretend we were like Bonobos who settle all of their problems with sex.People would be signing up to go to war with the biggest orgy, imaginable. I wouldn’t mind living in a world like this as those people would certainly get they’re dealing with figments of their imagination as a good orgasm, between Souls of resonance, make this Self evident hence why the ancient Vedics promoted sex as a spiritual aspect for generating gnosis. That was quickly flipped into the white mans “Born in sin” concept as entire generations lived and died thinking a magical man in the clouds was noting each time they’d caress the magic stick and eject a whole load of potential life into a Kleenex thanks to the sexual ministrations of flesh actors on their set. Another crazy tangent so lets rap this up real quick:
