part 62 (8)

in the first place there is nothing, not at all.
an abyss, a void, a chasm? whatever it might not be.
being is impossible by certain perspectives of thinking about it.
but what's to think?
no data, does not compute.
what do you think - fact or fiction?

fact theoretically means truth. what is a fact the whole fact and nothing but the fact? good luck.
we don't know what, do we? maybe yes, maybe no, maybe maybe.
why did the fool cross the road?
someone told him truth is on the other side.
now he's lost in a wilderness with no direction home stealing what he can to get by in these desolate times which have come upon us but not yet and perhaps never.
we shall see.
the clown hooked up to oxygen typing not p0em hunched over the keyboard of the computer wasting everybody's time but his own as all this provides a canvas to paint any which way the moods guide him. moods and the moon in perpetual dance for us bags of mostly water as we are. damage control in these last days. we're all going down.

brilliant drama acted out under the lights on the stage at the burning theater about truth and such we do enjoy though it does get us rather riled up about trivialities that are best left as they are but for others who are writing a doctorate thesis about it of all things. better them than us. pet the kitty. what's new and old at the same time rationalogic will argue against. funny about that. it denies itself. like planets orbiting supposedly around the sun as we like to believe is true. the clown misses 11:11 by an hour. wasn't paying attention which has been people's complaint about him since... whenever it was is will be. when there were first cartoons on tv. who knew it was an experiment? perhaps not even those conducting it. everybody on the blind side. under the spell of the project written into our DNA stuff and whatever. fat black cat up on the desk. swooshing tail knocking things around relics of a past incarnation of sorts as the spirits fly through more dimensions than we might have previously tried to imagine. what could it be?
children of the future won't have time for nonsense. they won't have time for nothing. busy as bees what they were modeled after decades of indoctrination informed by behavioral science. what desires for anything might they have? and they believe themselves fearless cuz they won some video games and camped in the woods to drink their frothy elixir.
broken mufflers bang pop hiss all the way home from our house to nowhere disappearing from existence outta sight outta our minds cheap thrills inside the gold mines of our choice by our own free will if that actually exists which we have reasons to doubt.
blabber blabber this blabber blabber that blabber blabber the other thing. aren't we so proud of our endeavors, eh?

the thing of imagination. everybody in the house asleep while the clown continues continuing not p0em beginning from 0 each time and ending at 0.
coffee, a toke. alienation. the morning sun's glow on the closed blinds of the window. another hot day is upon us.
as it just turns 11:11.
kiss it away. turn your back on all the problems in the world. what is there to do for those as lazy as us? the clown writes not p0em for the betterment of the masses. it's his part of the revolution. revolution? dream on.
we all know how that's never won. revolution is never from the people but from leaders who urge the people on for their own agenda.
the clown laughs a bit at that. all the uproar of people in the streets. he used to be one too back when he didn't know what is going on. it is so easy then to feel one is doing something responsible and relevant. those in true power grin untouched at our antics. they've got it covered.
to gain victory over ourselves is our actual real goal whether we know it or not. the day comes close. we can feel it moving us toward our destination we probably will never reach, but it's ok if not. where else is there to go?
everywhere we are able to imagine, right or wrong. stand up straight. be correct. but everything scares you to hell. there is no peace to it continuing constantly bang-a-bang-bang.
or something like that the clown don't understand.
not crazy like wild crazy but quiet crazy that watches everything. write a state of mind? what is your state of mind? his is ever-changing fulfilled and unfulfilled. crossing the river to get to the other side. today.

what needs to be explained by this point? everything? nothing? somewhere in the middle wherever. the clown looks through the blinds now 1/2 open (1/2 closed).
the eye knows where when truth lies. ipsy doodle.
hooray. but this comes to no surprise for those willing to shake their groove thang all night long while they play this song of true love gone wrong. it's that way all the time. few notice the difference. to break out of this prison of language. until then we cannot be free. freedom is self-defined, don't allow them to define it for you. fuck the far away tropical beaches alone as seen on tv. what haven't you seen on tv you are expected to believe?
crunch.

fascist fascination with details of error they erected out of common fear. something to wish for like wishes coming true in another sense of reality that does us no harm. what time is it with moments flashing instantly infinitely faster faster until there is no beginning? this according to our theory of everything. watch out. move outta the way.
the important part to remember is that we seem to have forgotten. is the universe any different? suppose it is. would we actually notice? a glitch. a big bang. light everywhere everywhen. then absolutely nothing - 0.
the trivial usurpation of what was once known as common sense by the meek inheriting the earth while the world burns in its awesome greed. figure that out, why don't ya?
little people driving big vehicles rolling in and rolling out of the park. delicious. let's give them a round of applause, shall we?
another toke.

blah blah blah blah...
[repeat as long as necessary]
everybody.

now it's turn around fall down.
now it's laugh at ourselves.
get settled into a groove thing and reach oblivion. it's always there to swallow us up, suck us up into our minds.
no, we can't have peace, love, and understanding since we would just sleep and waste away forever.
we need drama to keep us awake at night worrying about shit.
when is the next war? will we be raped and tortured by those fighting for our rights?
weird vibrations all around tonight, or is it us?
the dinosaurs are acting crazy.
people seem sleepy.
the clown doesn't really understand but then he sometimes thinks he might. why not? but everything is against him through nature and nurture and endless indoctrination. he couldn't think straight until he quit his job and went insane. it was the happiest days of his life. fuck working, baby. no time for that no more though while there's still those camped out on maggie's farm. and those who've memorized poems to recite at dusk when others are unsuspecting at this interruption on their own thoughts.

comedy news queen in love with her own voice talking down those she's interviewing twisting them into her own words they dare not disagree with nor at home or the bar wherever it might come to into this brightening darkening age off with their heads.
the axe is dull. it takes 2 whacks sometimes 3 to sever the heads. the clown feels sorry for the ones who don't wanna die. they imagine there is more to life and the chance of happiness. too bad now. they could have chosen to confess, and they chose not to. they suffer now.
those a god wishes to destroy it first drives mad - guru jeff.

through the gate to the garden around the bend over the hills and far away. maybe you'll find it, maybe you won't. don't ask us. we'll turn your head around for ya. kill us in our sleep. let's us move on to the next event happening now though we get tired of that yet study the common crowds surrounding us that are quite possibly hostile at any given moment from any given trigger - ka-pow! to the moon, alice.
and what would she do there but sit in the sand and play with trucks? what's the trick? did anyone else notice the slight shifts of reality? been happening a lot lately. whatever. nevermind. odd.

not exactly word salad but not exactly not either the clown continuing not p0em wishing something would be true that wasn't true before but maybe that is what happens as the dreamers dance away the time we have already forgotten instantly, remember? of course not. why would you want to remember? it's unproductive. it's borderline thoughtcrime which one never knows what is or not.
atlas shrugged and the world kept right on rocking, baby. no telling truth from fiction. each is strange in its own way of going about it. then they are usually taken out and shot.