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.