part 85 -

it's all suddenly clear.
the clown watches not tv. gazing out the window into the soul of everything feeling the love of it in his heart. yet it would let him die if needed. it plays no favorites. it is it.
fortune has been with him thus far. he expects nothing more from it.

a pill for a thrill aplenty if that is all we want. keep the change. what else do we expect from ourselves?
trying to be realistic in a world that may not be real. the wise guys promise us it is not. that is the common element of all they tell us.
the clown doesn't care if it is or isn't. he enjoys it any way it might be. it is a playground. school's out, baby. he has nothing much else he cannot learn on his own bearing fruit from the tree of living life.

his life is shallow. does it matter as it seems to matter to everyone but himself? he is happy for what he's got. the simple life for a simple mind he enjoys no matter how much they try to convince him to feel embarrassed and ashamed. fuck that.
he couldn't care less how many other realities people claim there may be. let the others seek them out. he will wait here and read their reports and imagine for himself the possibilities that abound everywhere everywhen in everything.

but that is nothing for him to be concerned about. he can accept heaven or hell whichever comes to him in the divine moment. he feels he deserves nor wants neither reward nor punishment, but to be left alone. but no one seems to get it. are they all that stupid? even the so smart ass wise guys? even the all-knowing gods? how come?
more coffee dunked with ginger snaps. a cigarette.
eternal fall and spring without the heat of summer nor cold of winter would be his paradise which is not to happen anytime soon if ever. but he can imagine and pretend as he does about everything else in his sweet short life dying before realizing he is born.
this is so funny. a joke. an elaborate hoax. a surprise ending?
no beginning nor end. nothing but thoughts and prayers blowing away in the wind.

666
999
envelope developmental process in-formation degrees of imagination. so many in psychic dark clouds of needless useless agony. the clown wonders about the whole enchilada as much as he knows at this point understanding more than he thinks while others pass him by seeking mysterious knowledge hidden in the most unlikely places on earth as it is in heaven.
he dreams about more than this in the ruins of this world of endless garbage all over the damn place.
he dreams of everything we have forgotten to remember which we now seek to recollect. but he thinks how it doesn't matter anymore as we have gone beyond all history into new possibilities of realization we believe are correct.

most every-body is done with him by now. good. he is free from social constraints to the contrary. the universe is laughing with him when it long laughed at him. nevermind.
he rocks slowly back and forth on his sanitary pedestal thinking about how what the wise guys tell us doesn't quite add up to nothing really we ought to agree to believe. everything is nonsense. people doing this and that and the other thing for reasons they even keep from themselves without knowing, the stupid clown among them. but the smart clown knows better - hahaha. but sometimes he doesn't know which is which. it's a game he plays.

locked into his karma self still bound to this world which is fine by him because this is the here and now of physical manifest reality he hides himself away awhile in where few might suspect. let them search the skies to find themselves. he finds himself here which is part of the joke. and it all is a joke. are you laughing?
he realizes nothing will ever change changing all the time it remains the same. the pain and suffering will continue for reasons we can hardly imagine cuz it comes back to us and what we are willing to inflict and endure.
all will be lost to us as what needs to happen for us to move on though there is now/here to go. what energy goes out is what energy comes back. fear leads to having something to fear. love leads to having something to love. and all that jazz like that and so on.

let us go crazy. you wanna come along? are you sure?
what is correct and who is to tell us what? for every wise guy there is an anti-wise guy. let them argue who is right or wrong. what do we care? they will soon annihilate themselves.
the clown sleeps.

awakening.
coffee, coffeecake, cigarette.
things could be always worse in 1001 ways. things are worse for billions of others. the karma of the world coming due. all the wars fought as if there is something of value in what is called the mundane world. is it only $$$? we doubt that, but it could be.
some nameless song in his head the clown continues not p0em as report to the committee. it will be archived and forgotten. or it may just disappear. anything is ok with him. he writes it cuz he must write as he always has in order to keep himself sane as he will be in his never ending delightful madness. but he is not mad at all. is he the only one who is sane? only someone who is mad would think so of oneself.

the purging continues. people being killed by hundreds and thousands in various parts of the world we steadily ignore. we should feel lucky that we are protected from the truth we have given up wanting to know.
but what facts add up to truth? and what part does gazorbnik play in it? does it need to be considered or is it easily dismissed by uncommon common sense? most would choose the latter cuz they have little or no understanding what it is, as do we. we just made it up. we know nothing.
it's medication time. take those pills and feel fine.

have we given up on our theory of everything? perhaps so. it seems we know nothing about everything. but what more is there to explain than what we have already done? it's simple really for every layperson to understand if they want to, or to make it up for themselves instead of or in addition to our own version which is not necessarily the correct one nor incorrect one either. it is not for us to tell anyone what or how to think. there are plenty of others for that sort of monkey business, eh?

to express this all in a zillions ways from thursday toward now/here in particular or another as we think for ourselves once and for all being ourselves finally arising from the pits of our greedy intentions. we are now greedy for peace, love, and understanding with our hearts broken by past misfortune due to our reckless minds.
our mission now is clear. there is no mission but the ongoing project to climb from hell to heaven. our efforts were used to be praised and honored. now they must remain hidden from the eyes of uncomprehending mass consciousness that judges what they are told is right from wrong by anyone in supposedly accepted authority at large.

simplistic meandering thought mixed up with itself the clown proceeds with abandoned caution to the winds blowing in from the east as predicted.
he knows next to nothing - 0±. he wanted to know next to nothing that would be clogging up his imagination.
a peanut butter and bacon sandwich.
hybrid consciousness. information. what's the solution to the dilemma of omelas? is there any dilemma? do you think or not? information flowing as a river into our heads. do we have heads? which?
those who proudly boast of themselves in their humble opinions. the sun has finally come out from this morning overcast like an obedient doggie chasing a stick over the hills and far away like an old joke told by an idiot. so much has been lost that we merely have remnants of by now such we must guess their meanings.
meaning isn't all it's cracked up to be. direct experience is what is needed to evoke our intelligence of such things that are meaningless - like gazorbnik for example. that sweet sickening smell.

so, dance with that tambourine, baby. show them all how to work it.