part 95 -

happy jack.
it's funny becuz attached with cat hair the clown sitting before the computer before the gazing window he ultimately blames no one nor credits anyone for nothing he cannot blame or credit himself 1st, or whenever.

a fully dimensional self-programing simulation, or something like that sorta creepy thing. whatever.
drug addicted philosophy. carry on and on toward an understanding of our ignorance. can we have some more, please?
here the clown laughs a little to himself. could it be any more wrong? but with gazorbnik everything is true, which does not bring us any closer to whatever it is we are supposed to bring ourselves closer to may be. gazorbnik itself is unapproachable under these circumstances. be very careful and silent.

surrounded by propaganda machines cleverly programmed to make no mistake, the clown correctly puts together fried egg, swiss cheese, red onion, mayo, spicy mustard, 8 grain bread, and eats the subsequent result.
when is the beginning? the middle? the end?
it is the ongoing continuing genetic process we recognize as objects and such. owah-tagu-siam.
everything eventually converting into being everything else. this we know about from teachings of guru jeff engraved in our minds which will disappear like a morning mist over a busy pond. but that don't mean it's gone. also, multidimensional optical illusions intersecting with our space and time reality. once if you see it you will never forget - though you may regret being so curious.

yes.
what dope it is.
how dope we are.
sister morphine holds her breath.
but later earlier that same night everything seems a bit queer. tender harvest of dream manipulations surging in our brain to make it go - whoosh. just like a toilet down the drain toward a better world with talking toads and things of that nature in an afterworld of perpetual beautiful bliss. everybody does their thing.

processed food with all its added chemicals and such. processed everything. ourselves processed. the future processed as is the past. we have here and now and that's about it. it is it. spread the word. hahaha.
groove your gazorbnik, baby.
it's medication time.

3) remember grey goo? who doesn't? that is a theory of sorts. replicating the programed message forever. this might not make sense at first. it needs deep studying.
choose your own mantra, like we did, mistakenly calling a demon that goes by the name gazorbnik. easy answers for a lazy mind.

our gazorbnik tells us to be cool. why be frantic? who wins becoming frantic? that only happens to losers. be a winner. be cool. white duck down?
habits.
who tells us nothing we need to be told? we figure it out from synchronistic random bits of information. patterns in the æther which has been supposedly proven not to exist by some wise guy or another. as if they knew what it is they are looking for. æther is in and in-between among our minds tuned sideways, krypton effect reality thing.
shit we make up for no reason. not being in the right place at the right time in most cases but other times exactly right here now - bingo.

things and things and things. once ultra-desirable brand new things lie in landfills everywhere. it's a mess, baby. everybody's in on it. kill all the motherfuckers. do it now. in the name of gazorbnik you will obey.
crazy.

in the time of love we grooved to the vibes. there were many too much and many not enough. puppy dogs. everything's turned dark it seems, but it kinda always has been for him to provide for his own light. nothing is groovy now. we are no longer believers in love dashed on the rocks as it has been lost to all without them noticing nothing much with their eye on their $$$.
it's all lies. we are told this over and over. everybody's suspect by now. everybody watching who else while feeling watched themselves kinda thing going on around any town. some people protest. some people ignore. a serpent swallowing its tail until we hope it chokes and falling crashing back into the sea which is humanity.

the clown is told not only what to think but how to feel about what he thinks. the clown is not alone. there is everyone else on earth too.
his paranoia strikes deep with people always telling him he's wrong. it's just their tired worn out song. he knows when he doesn't belong, even among the outcasts. everybody into groupthink groups to make themselves feel bigger than they are easily directed by the manipulators who dazzle us with diverting distractions to divide us against each other and so on. nevermind.

of course gazorbnik being some sorta demon is a made up lie to tell kids so they'll stay on the right side of the law. honesty here is not the best policy - there's a war on, damn it.

succumb for a time to lower level dingbats who probably have a surprise waiting which you may or may not care for. it could be the surprise of your life either way. imagine that. count your blessings and curses. it's so fake it's not funny anymore. we must be in control and remain so for the foreseeable future which does not exist - or not.
what?

listening to madness the clown hearing it all the time continuing typing not p0em in the dark of night here after. ho-hum. it's the teeny tiny thingies one might notice along the wandering wondering way of pathless paths toward where everything balances out of balance flowing as a burning flag meaning nothing, unless it does.
like lovers drawn to the moon. shout it out. the clown cannot speak. not like adolph discovered he could in his heyday in the beerhalls until he turned into an insane drug addict. oh well. huh? what just happened?
light another cigarette.

the clown remembers unhappy times of childhood except times alone when he didn't have to put on a face and act.
kerplunk.
down and down and down we go into the earth floating in a beam of blue light to a forgetful destination as we after some non-time are returned again.
it all made sense to us then. the sense of nonsense. how could it be any other way? excuse us while we spin, always different each time around.

ready to go for a ride?
what's the trick? there's always a trick to these sorta things of this nature, isn't there?
there's tricks in everything. that's how they hold our attention to this world. without it we'd float away. that cannot be allowed to happen - oh no.
has all hope been abandoned? hahaha.

déjà vu times a zillion. that's life in a maze of mirrors, baby. you'll get to know it well once you perceive how it's done without knowing what the fuck you're doing at all.
hot and heavy wavy gravy. disruptions of mind over matter as it's always been for some reason conducive to the proceedings of fate.
fate needs to be an entirely logical mechanism to fulfill its function no matter what with no appeal granted - not ever forever.
give us a fucking break.

promote yourself. get ahead of the pack wherever they may roam. protect yourself. the best defense is an good offense. so we are told and it seems to make sense at first in some odd binary sorta way - then after, not so much.
that's one of the oldest tricks up our sleeve. kill 'em all. the apple pie cools on the windowsill as it is supposed to. the plan is working. we can continue our mission. all anyone knows is we're putting the project together. that's all anyone needs to know. it'll mess you up in your head. surprised? probably not. you're probably not paying attention. you want it quick and easy. that obviously ain't gonna happen. nope.

we get bypassed easily. $$$ talks, bullshit walks. we've been fed endless amounts of bullshit we don't know what the fuck - or do we?
we'll be the last to know.
keep it alive and fresh. we know what's best for ourselves, or perhaps not. maybe we do need a god to tell us what to do. we're far too stupid.

but the good news is...!?!

part 94 -

there will be those who don't get it still. a dementing construction of words.
but we have not much more time for this. why did we ever bother? attempting to achieve bliss with a kiss.
but now it opens to the skies in disguise as a squirming worm cleverly whispering its secrets few wish to know. what purpose does it ever serve?

but wait... what's the deal? too much information.

exactly - as it is known now among us who understand the workings of their gazorbnik - not an easy task to set for oneself.

it's medication time for the clown who types this dirge of not p0em for those who are about to fall flat on their face. we cannot help them. nor perhaps should we if we could. let the show begin.

and when it backfires in our face we will laugh all the more over the hills and far away around the bend about us being such fools. so this will be the device of our defeat when everything couldn't be more complete?.
in this context, gods are interesting. for ourselves we do not know if there are gods or not. however we observe those who believe their gods are real such that they will make war about it. they get ready for the war of wars when everybody gets their chance. worldwide rioting.\
so mote it be - or whatever the fuck.

___________

we are not the victims here. we champion our cause to the highest level possible to our mission to set the project in place against all unbelieving eyes searching for truth. our mission here is to surrender and infiltrate ourselves among the others. we are known to them, but not as we are ourselves.

3 is good enough. let that be our lesson today in the school of misfit toys no god will come to claim. we are free to believe what we will - to will what we believe. it will happen - in its own mind, and ours to witness.
where we go we're not allowed to tell. you never know.

who knows?

what does it mean? is $$$ the only answer in the end?
everybody's in business. it's the best logical conclusion. we think nothing of it, as we have been instructed not to.
excitedly we watch the moon rising from the sea. the sea is humanity. let's be frank. take it or leave it makes no difference. double bubble. wheels turning this way, that way, the other way, on and on. but not wheels really - not really really, just kinda really. buzzzt?

those of rationalogic minds do not understand the irrationalogic process to arrive at some of this crap. all to set the project in its place at the heart tuned to receive. won't that be the day to celebrate when every wish is fulfilled? do you know what you wish for? it may be not what it seems at first, but then you will know for sure.
it's not complicated but takes a lotta work to arrive. being an idiot isn't as easy as it may appear. the names one is called. the punishment set upon us. but we laugh all that away by now. what's done is done, let's go have some fun.

we suppose we could make up whatever something to believe as the others seem to do. that's what makes sense to us anyway. it could be anything. the more that believe the merrier. but we have nothing for anyone but ourselves, but that's enough. we are the embodiment of our beliefs. our beliefs are projections of our souls which we are - or not.

coughing, the clown continues not p0em watching everything dividing apart together. ramapo. here's where it all goes sorta wrong. rambunctiously quasi-squeak petro-patrol running for their dearly held lives toward the landing spaceships which upon landing vibrate themselves into under the ground without disturbing the surface as we knew it would come to this event we are still studying from long ago until now expecting success for our determination forged from our own flesh and blood distinctly forgetting what everything is for.

we can't seem to keep on with this certain unexpected experience when we are both frightened and overjoyed. can you believe it? is that necessary? cuz we're not so sure we believe it. not till our gazorbnik tells us so.
gazorbnik is like having a radio in your head receiving all sortsa star signals and such like. but it's also not like that at all really. don't become confused. that's all we remember being useless eaters that we are. everybody's out to get us. mean rotten people who are sick and tired of shit. why should they work so hard for us to do nothing?

but, besides that, here we go. gazing across the universe at the back of our heads. is that how it comes and goes? and that seems overtly unnecessary as is most everything else. too bad. so sad. how happy we have become most of the times we are not caged in sorrow but both are equal in a larger picture we might now imagine though knowing as little as we do yet by far understanding more than one might expect by such as us who have been pushed down in our face as much as we have been. it doesn't matter good or evil. it's all the same difference to us. but we are not worried. every story has a happy ending if we believe.

freakazoidal freaks jumping up and running after the ice cream cement truck like yesterday's news. why should it be any different now? only the gods know how now brown cow. the anti-sex league strikes again as we knew they would if they could. all pleasure is thoughtcrime. the distraction is complete. who has time to think?
calm down. it's not over yet.
we'll let you know.

gazorbnik.
will no one consider that which promises nothing as having any value? or does it always need to evoke reward/punishment to get us to notice? to have what one has not. are we that much fools? is it being foolish? relax. are we just rolling stones with nothing left to lose as we have been told.
so much to be done without the will to do it. hahaha - funny how that works. but here we come to save the day having it be our own way if we can afford it. who measures life by $$$? we know who. it's no secret. it's been revealed as everything is collapsing around us. who gets in and who is kept out. it takes $$$ to make their world go around. why not?

what must be done now to fulfill our deepest dreams we keep to ourselves. to not know right from wrong. but that just leads to more trouble than it's worth.
what's the plan? do we have any? do we have a clue as we shop at the company store looking for our own best interest which is dwindling away?
high on god we are apt to do most anything given the dismal nature of our lives we perceive otherwise. we cannot deny the usefulness of groupthink collective ideologies in getting shit done no matter what. forget whatever ideas of our freedom we may have had. we've received our marching orders.

but why despair? our inner contentment can be found. rest easy in the gathering light surrounding us now. let joy be found complementing our brokenhearted sorrow. it's almost too easy. wait for it.
but words can mean anything.
the clown naps.

awakening - ha.
odd dreams of late. but then this is the end of everything we imagine being real. über-people taking over, sucking it out for themselves as it has always been. left with what we might glean from the devastation left behind. everyone in their own fractured memories trickling through their minds.
we report to the committee about the propagandaistic world we have been delivered to. no one talks to one another, they just shout volleys of slogans. those who do talk are silenced by the noise of the machines.
come out, come out, whoever you are. now soon is the time. time for what?

time must know no bounds, except for alpha/omega, infinitely set apart. as far apart as 0 is to 1. that foreboding feeling we have now disrupting trains of thought diverting them into new directions toward god so it all works out in the end knowing what we're missing. the code is broken. the seal is open. now what are we to do? blasting off into new experiencing of space and time remaining the same yet without our knowing. the ideal form resting in imagination. are we already here now? where else is there to go? you know what we mean? inner and outer space and all that.

sleep, the final frontier, what dreams are made of to have and to hold. mission control. negative negative.
do we wanna be right? of course not. somebody should do something about that. it's not us. is it you? we're just sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.
all for what it's worth. tactical error. we get up and dance. we find romance. everything takes on different meanings with eye open to see it. we've perhaps taken it to the limit, but we keep going just in case. what else are we to do? seriously.
we believe everyone's story until we know better. then what? 

part 96 -

in the overall confusion of the moment the clown typing not p0em stops to eat some pistachios while gazing out the window awhile seeing everything as if new, which it is. and when thinking about love we forget to take into account the feelings of rage in the hearts of many who seek revenge toward their fellow humans, mostly justifiably so on and on that goes. what a strange thing we have devised for ourselves to live like. we all are enemies to someone. some hate despite love, some hate becuz of love.
11:11
LSD.
no excuses anymore. a birdie sits on the clown's left shoulder telling him what he should do. he tries to shoo it away but it comes back each time until he's given up and puts up with it.
mostly the clown is alone. how sweet that is. his favorite times are alone when not surrounded by others and their godforsaken realities. he was gonna go out for supplies but put it off until tomorrow. woman in bright hot orange jacket walking by. the clown wondering for some reason when the last time she was fucked.
a life of past regrets is not the life for him. everything has a reason to be. woe to those who believe in good and evil. how can they stand it? it seems to make them insane and not fit for duty now for the future, amen.
the clown's location is being monitored. but he ain't going nowhere, is he? not yet. the time will come. fire up the mind shift/ship and zoom around the world picking up people who need to come along the way.
that's his delusion. what's yours? and don't try to pretend you don't have none. we know better - or we should know better, but probably not. we fall for it again and again - that we are somehow insane. hahaha.
let's get serious. can we do that? it seems like a simple request, but we begin laughing each time like the naughty children we are told that we are. never learning nothing at school. school's been blown to pieces, baby. now what have we done? now school's no fun for anyone.
drat.
they are always right - and even when they are wrong, they admit it. how can we blame them? but many of us do. most of us do actually. it's a mental condition. metaschizophrenic science or some such magical thinking hoo-ha as that under our hat. praise gazorbnik.
if someone sins before god and is guilty, what about those who profit from the sins of the sinner? are they accountable?
but god does not exist - unless it is a mushroom cheeseburger. there is no reward. there is no punishment. there is only a void left from the absence of space and time, should that occur. another toke. another cigarette. groovy, baby.
but god does exist in a sense. a dream of god is waiting for us at the dawn of our consciousness. a large number of us believe in a god of some sort. becuz we believe, we behave in certain ways having an impact on our surrounding environment and each other. this idea of god, that later is written down to be read by the generations, is the entity of god acting in this world. or whatever.
believe it if you will or will not, whichever you prefer and makes sense to you, pilgrim. name it what you will. become it if you can. others claim to be, but it may or may not be true. could we be any more wishy washy? we have no need to, our point has been made.
the point of gazorbnik is more gazorbnik. when we got a good thing going we want it to be more. this is where it begins. gazorbnik is where it ends. it is it. that's all. the clown can sit and dreaming he wanders into a land time forgot, but truth remains steady as a stone as people seem to like it to be.
___________
the next day - awakening.
remembering where and when he is.
it's medication time. and he poops.
it's raining.
coffee, toke, cigarette. let the day begin.
bad news on all fronts. let our people go. in/out through the back door. we know where we're going. follow the $$$. viral information broadcast from a stage within the burning theater. quick like bunnies sitting perfectly still trying to get some of that enlightenment. we seem so close, but perhaps we're on the other side from it. it is it.
11:11
the clown naps.
awakening some more.
is anything real, or is it all a ploy to steal us away?
away away away...
away from what to what else? from one passing moment to another? all moments are one moment, as we know it.
we have yet to reach the shortest moment of time. that is something to think about, if one is much inclined to do so, as it will or will not be - as one wills it or wills it not to be. slight matter of perspective with all its implications.
perspective from experience, or experience from perspective? these are not the same. around about it goes. spinning those wheels.
being caught in a trap gnawing at one's own leg to be free. the possibility.
enlightenment scares the fucking living shit outta me - guru jeff.
we watch the inevitable war being developed around us. soon we'll be caught in the middle. ringside seats for the greatest show on earth. bring it on, people. let's see your worst you can do we have not seen already. we cheer on those who do battle to become mighty heroes whose names will be remembered as long as there is someone left to remember them. be careful. pull the switch. let it play its epic song.
aliens all over the place. watch them watching us. they believe they are invisible but are only just imaginary in our particular limited dimensions of space and time that are more openly expansive than we think.
glorification of control in the hole where everything is rocking like a sinking ship. the hole is discovered in the middle of nowhere (now here) where we happily found ourselves one day in may - (or is it will be?).
anyway, everything is in spiral cycles of particle-waveforms, though that particular theory is going out the window with our wigs on.
dig.
as it all goes away we sing and dance, we fall down, we laugh in a garden of joy. we have been here all before. here we are again.
the revolution's won. everything's undone. now we await our reward that probably ain't gonna come.
but some of us decide to leave this place. we face another way. this is how we save the day - for ourselves.
eventually we reclaim our minds back from the pawn shop. they've been poorly treated and cared for in the meantime. but that's alright. every night.
everyone has lost the hand they're dealt at one time or another. maybe always tomorrow.
close window.
follow instructions to rebel and to revolt at the 1st opportunity coming our way - as seen on tv.
incoming - yikes!
crammed together. everyone's a spy eye reporter. catch us all in the act. greedy little humanoids racing to and fro, hither and yon, around about, everywhere that is on earth here and now in space and time as we presently know it as a common ground we are on together. no place left to go but the fancy of imagining whatnot without as it is within - or something like that.
but no one will believe us now. we tell so many lies.
it's fine as pi in the sky.
who would believe?
simple as radar love, eh?
___________
11:11(?)
nap.