part 91 -

goodbye.
_________

the clown is now on his own. what could this mean?

more coffee, another toke (4:20), another cigarette.
not p0em as report to the committee.

another bumpkin sits on a wall. she had to climb up cuz she's not very tall. let's hope some bully doesn't come push her and make her fall, though we all would laugh.
so the guy comes to rake the leaves and mow the lawn. the clown despises that they need to do this in order to live in the park according to the rules and regulations.

then a few hours go by and by while he does other sortsa cryptoidesque shit he does, like baking potatoes. yes, indeed, that old trick up his sleeve from this hallowed hollow earth he learned at some point it would seem that he cannot at this time remember. some location of spacetime or another. we have to walk around the literal through the metaphorical to achieve understanding of anything.

it is of use to ourselves and is all it needs to be. it is our magick mantra to summon the spirits needed to evoke gazorbnik of the dada-ananda to enter through us once more alive tangible dangling over reality's edge of the knowable universe according to our astute calculations worked out in the barnyard with chickens and such one might expect as if we were hiding something which we supposedly are doing according to the rumored thought police reports sent to the committee as well. the committee is out to lunch. they've been out to lunch for years, a decade or 2. no wonder nothing gets done except the most routine shuffling of files from one work station to another and around back again. the patterns of these movements are another level of our communicating with the sprits out there in space and time as it would seem perhaps it is all illusion and fake

and another thing we can't stop thinking about is how it might feel to go on some sorta killing spree at some point. go in some store and pick up a big honking kitchen knife and go to town on some folks. or not.
we don't necessarily want to do this nor certainly do not need to do this except for the fucking "[voices]" we hear at times that may be our own voices telling us to go for it. it's difficult to resist. their songs they sing are quite compelling for us to dive into and forget for a while. when we awaken we may be surprised. our bloody face and hands. we laugh insane. we have stepped over the line. we ain't coming back, we're feeling fine. la-la-dee-da.

krypton hullabaloo easy access to different spheres of experiencing information being happening in our ±0 heads bitten off by herds of lonely land sharks randomly roaming towns far across the land of the free like some sex kitten machine control thing.
some hollywood fantasy ooze based on speculative paranoia seeping into the basement where the dungeon is located which adds to the dark flavor of the experience of it. lock and load, baby. come on now, let's go have fun, let's join everyone.

the wise guys devise to entertain anyone who is on beyond zebra enough to notice the difference between here and there when there does not exist in some manner of thinking. beeple bopple mix it up good just like we should to be known for becoming outrageously kind and considerate considering what we are otherwise to ourselves. it's a tricky situation when planets collide for us to manage to regain control of the pinball machines on ice which all has happened before as we have stated by now and then again - nevermind.
the days generally repeat themselves though not specifically. a not p0em as our theory of everything must do the same. the sun appears to come up as the sun appears to go down, but it's just our fat old earth spinning around. easy does it. yet it happens all the time and we act accordingly. now you see it, now you don't.
strange person of interest hanging around the wrong side of town. the clown wants another nap sleeping dreaming the day away. and he does just that.

awakening.
doing some other graphics and shit awhile as the end of afternoon darkens into night toward an end to time at some point perhaps.

dummy whatknot.
what's wrong with you anyway? don't you wanna be successful?
opening doors to the other side and back again for the pleasure of the queen who sits upon her throne observing obviously unimpressed by the show onstage at the burning theater.
the concept of the burning theater is as follows: it is a theater and it is burning while the show must go on.

what this symbolizes is itself.

mindless dada.
hero worship.
holy underpants.

fat ass rich.

etc.

the donkey pulls the cart when it wants to. zero hour time. the 1st thing is, you don’t forbid what people aren't doing. the clown chews a couple of bazookas while picking at scabs of dead skin on his head. this is nowhere near being close enough to anything. we need to keep it going.
self-pathetical musings about this universe and beyond our consciousness the wise guys promise if we pay them our $$$, and hearts and minds and then some.
god is not free. god is expensive. it'll take over our whole lives and still demand more. all gods are the same. it's a dead end until we become gods. then we are all the same. power corrupts and all that. zombies. ding dong. the clown takes off the oxygen and goes for a smoke - and a nap.

11:11

it's all pretty much slow going from here which is what we should expect at this point (±0). it takes time to think if you're an idiot. idiots think about everything easily forgetting what they were thinking about to begin with. idiot idioms of the common jerk on the street. where do they always go in such a hurry?

meanings of meaning all differently the same. the clown knocks off the last cup of coffee. he supposes he's wrapped up in ego (eggo?) though he's not entirely clear what it's supposed to be. does he have an ego or is he an ego? or does an ego have him? questions and questions.

what the fuck is he?

what is he supposed to be?

sez who?

some wise guy or another.

fuck that.

anyway, he wanders pathless paths between ignorance and realization perhaps. or not.
pet the kitty.
typing out not p0em mantra thing. wholly words. folly. follow the heart. the heartless wonder of it all. falling flat on our faces facing east by divine accident. the acid-dentist knows the deal.  

the clown thinks reality is a dream since he can remember. that's why he never tries that hard. it's all fake bullshit. that's why he's an idiot. what's your excuse?

the gods are power hungry greedy fuckers. some glitter on his skin the clown still wonders about our misplaced theory of everything. where did it go?
everything would seem to "begin" at ±0 (?) that is everywhere everywhen. after that it's anybody's guess. infinity lies "between" 0 and 1. everything is open-ended. nothing is never complete.

then a purple silver dragon lays an egg that becomes a universe - a universe we happen to find ourselves part of. and so it goes from there on.

the stardust seekers gazing up to the starry skies waiting to be taken away on some celestial ship while the clown wonders if his toenails are too long.
to become more than we are. to play the fools who don't amuse anyone in this wacky serious future as it draws to a close. to find peace with the end of everything we might imagine close to the edge.

the aliens have landed?

he doesn't take care of anything at all. he wants to discover what it's like to be the loser. he's been successful at that. people wanting to be winners are cheap by the dozen. they come from all walks of living life. at times the clown doubts if they are for real. they probably feel the same about him. no kidding. but he's made his way to being down and out on easy street. how many can claim that about themselves?

no one's telling us shit around here left or right around in circles. it's propaganda city as far as the eye can see around the world the same damn thing.

and so?

now what?

it's crazy time, baby.

don't lose your hat.

let the wind blow through your hair without a care.

why worry about what is illusion anyway?

hahaha.

hip-hop to it. it's as real as we can make it. more real than anybody seems to want it. oh well for them. sweet dreams, baby.
the clown sleeps.

_________

hello.