cigarette in hand the clown wondering how it might begin again typing not p0em while the fat black cat plays with a catnip mouse.
such is the moment.
so many places we have not gone before. carry the news, what news there may be anymore now the world is dead. ain't no life nowhere. ain't nobody but us chickens. the clown yawns. what when everything is gone? zombies?

coffee, toke, cigarette.
everything going on in his head at once. he's one of these folks who when everything is going ok worries about what bad is gonna happen next. silly old man. but he's learned in life that when he's up there is always something that brings him down. he tries to remain in the middle neither one nor the other. easy contentment lies there.
but what an idiot he's been - a lazy one at that.
he waits for what might come his way. enough for him to survive and not much more but what he needs. good enough for him. and he gets to think say do what he wants. no one inspecting him to determine if he measures up to their standards. he thinks he might fry up some hash browns.

another cigarette.
everything there is seems to be false according to whoever proclaims knowing truth. la-dee-da.
been there, done that.
and everything is false, but so are images on a tv screen, yet we are entertained and informed by them so what's the difference?
relax and enjoy the show.
pass the popcorn.

and the hash browns are frozen thick as a brick. oh well.
and those who are offended yet are terribly offensive. those who do not know themselves it seems. or if they do, they don't care.
and he rattles on and on.
pet the kitty.

the universe connected by spheres of light from the edge of one infinity to another. everything here now everywhere everywhen.
as we expand and drift apart will those spheres become undone until they are no longer in communication?
perhaps. maybe probably.
but space and time are illusion.
how are we to be free?
illusion masking what? true reality? that seems stupid. what's the fucking point in that? just to make us look like fools? yet people believe this is what is what it is.

the clown discovers in his mind that he is alone. he imagines everything. he gives it free will to become what it will. the world and universe and beyond is the result. a nifty trick he plays to keep himself from absolute solitude.

but now he has found out. how can anything ever be the same? but he suspected it for a long time before understanding how it might work out to be that way. this is why he enjoys the world in all its aspects from one extreme to another along all continuums of duality.
why not?

once one dons the mask and costume and steps onstage one should act and play the part as not to spoil the show for others.
the clown sits and observes as the plot thickens. it's as though he is not even here. but he is, very much so.
he writes. he has always written. writing is how he thinks. thinking is how he writes. the circle is unbroken, yet never the same twice.

he naps.

awakening.
making coffee. a toke, a cigarette.
he is still tired.
people on the street looking for victims. all as it should be. all as it is. the clown knows it doesn't matter what he thinks feels about anything. nothing changes. all as it should be. all as it is.
no one remembers it seems. this world is strange. everybody's a sucker for it. the clown is the biggest sucker of them all. and it doesn't matter.

every day is a holiday. enjoy it while it lasts. but as he types not p0em there is the slaughter of war and people cheering for their side to win while he imagines everything that could might be. to kill and kill again. that's how we like it.

death is the greatest invention ever. the final word. eliminate all opposition to one's ideals. be master of the world. what does it matter?
another cigarette.
he shakes his head until his brain falls out. now he is the brainless wonder. he watches it crawling toward the door. yes, go away and never come back.
he can imagine anything. and that's all he does. why really do it in real life? what does that accomplish? dead is dead.
something more and something less, and him in the middle like a monkey with a banana happy as a clam.
but nothing's funny anymore. everything and everyone so serious it makes him wonder. what do they hope to accomplish? and if they accomplish anything what is it worth? the world is dead.

a peaceful warrior has nothing to do but watch everything unfold. no one needs to know. no one wants to know. visions of a world destroying itself while a new world is born like winter into spring. what will happen next?
nothing new. nothing old. nothing borrowed. nothing blue. the wedding proceeds without ceremony. the clown eats a bratwurst thinking all the while of the ancient prophetic writings so symbolic they can correlate to anything at anytime. ignorance so severe nothing might enlighten it to become more than it is. this works in our favor if we understand what it might mean. do you?

scratching itch bleeding blood. 0 is every possibility that aren't always realized nor do they need to be. what chaos would reign if they did - haha. a sight for sore eyes to behold. 0 is beginning and end - alpha/omega. o' to wish another world. o' to wish for salvation from this one. o' to wish damnation upon others who disagree. the clown laughs.
pet the kitty. forget the blues - an undercurrent of emotion eroding away at the self. self? who? what?

the self being what is remaining when all else is expunged. he understands, but he does not know. does he trust his own mind? what else if not that?  how does one think past one's given thoughts. is it possible? how does one know? what sign should one look for?

weapons ready. the disease of faith. the release of doubt. incoming!
yes, it all makes sense in relation to how the world appears to be manifest. it fits like a glove. no room for love that isn't strictly enforced. we obey without understanding. the gods disfavor those who aren't like us.
face it.

this we hear and read from so many different sources. the philosophy of economics. scarcity and self-interest. the solid foundation of everything built upon it.
more for us. less for them.
he watches amused while everything twists and turns trying to make sense of itself.

if it makes $$$ it makes sense, everything else is nonsense - guru jeff.

imagine thinking like that and that's all there is but that universal truth. ugh. but what is and what is perceived to be may be vastly different. there is so much misunderstanding with everything. love and $$$.

the clown either has too much or doesn't have enough, he can't decide. should he maybe flip a coin?
a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head. is it his imagination? it is real? is there any way to tell the difference? is the mad god himself?
how else would a god be that found itself in that situation? nothing but existence. it becomes mad, hallucinating itself within a vast universe where it creates a world populated with living life of all kinds. and a species evolves that is self aware. and the mad god is born among them to feel it is not alone but a part of them in a fantasy to forget. and it goes on life to life this way for quite some time, but never feeling to really be a part of them as it had hoped but remembering in some way just what and where it is.

all is reflections of itself as being. but for these creatures whose lives are misery this awareness of god within is an escape to hopefully merge with it and attain bliss - whatever that might be. the mad god understands and guides them to itself where they do merge and become blissful together.
but the mad god knows what is real and what is make believe. it knows its own madness it protects them from - or tries to. but some come to realize and also become mad. this is where the clown is at. the utter desolation of existing nowhere nowhen with nothing but itself.
to find steady bliss in this is the goal that probably never can be reached. it is always an illusion masking an ultimate horror. but it needs to suffice.
to laugh and scream in the face of this horror that is never beginning and never ending in a moment here now.
or not.

if one is looking for god that is where when one may find it. beware those who sugarcoat it with promises of everlasting bliss. be prepared to become mad.

but who is the clown but just anyone no one who figured this out from his experience falling outside what others describe as their own experience? it took him time to understand he is not wrong in his assessment.

masked in metaphor and symbol to both confound and enlighten. many do not seem to understand even when they are fully immersed in it. they believe it all to be real.
there is not really a mad god laughing screaming alone in the void inside his head. he just makes that up in an attempt to describe in given language what it really is. but it really is nothing.