part 108 -

the clown continuing typing not p0em cuz he ain't no poet which is the thing of it. it is it, unless it is not it. that happens at odd times it seems. how does one tell the difference? it's not something you can look up in a book or journal or magazine or some such. a shrieking scream comes from the attic as one comes to realize that it being it or it being not it is inconsequential for most purposes.
nevermind.
it all has to do with property and who owns what and if you can't defend it then it becomes someone else's property. war is either the failure or the success of capitalism.
for now we'll skip that question and come back to it later if there's time and if we remember.
a toke and a cigarette.
710

so all that goes.
police shooting to kill everyone and everything.
interesting. the pigs are in control, no one can oppose them. they have the might and the will and the $$$. we are all scattered leaves in the wind. better to be us than them. who wants to be a pig?
we fit into nooks and crannies. we can be difficult to find, especially if one does not know what one is looking for - or at.
we are in undisclosed locations around about. some clearly in the open. who are we? what do we want? good questions. will we ever know any answers?

people living in dreams of being in heaven or hell without having the sense to know one from the other and realizing they are surrounded by both. it's a choice they make, often in ignorance of what's the deal.
what's the deal is that if we find and maintain a center in our minds we can perceive that everything is the same similar vibrations everywhere everywhen to and from everything and everything else. we lose sight of the karmic wheels turning on/off off/on that create what appears to be reality and might very well be reality of sorts and then some magick besides. one never knows what the fuck anything might be until we decide for ourselves and believe in it as truth absolute and everlasting.

truth is waves on a beach ever changing yet always the same throughout the universe as much as we know about which may be a small sliver of how much we can detect of the boundless whole of it reaching toward infinity.
everything being particle-waveforms or some such thing. it's whatever we find and imagine it to be.
everything is metaphors of something it is like but something that it is not. a whim of gods abundant.
and something beneath the surface of what we are able to perceive even with our enhancing devices delving in toward the unknown infinitesimal regions of spacetime, if it even is spacetime anymore at that point. and so on it goes here in the middle of everything, the exact center being our mind's eye according to our theory of everything.

as she is led to be beheaded for murdering her husband with a kitchen knife slitting his throat in his sleep, her last words are a call to women everywhere who could hear to follow her footsteps.
hooray!
the time has come for the great slaughter of humanity by humanity on every street in every town until the losers are all dead and the victors are exhausted but content as cattle believing they are wolves - haha.
it makes no difference. what's done is done. we are satisfied with the results. the machinery of the project continues toward its object monitoring free speech thoughtcrime along the way as the robots have taken over this task as we had expected.
the clown has become tired. he will sleep now.

awakening to a same different world. he looks around trying to notice how it may have shifted this time. it always seems to. he no longer wonders what it might mean but keeps the possibilities open for now and then again as usual as previously stated in not poem and elsewhere where the clown babbles his mind out. it's a true and fine art. the deception of not p0etry.

pet the kitty. that's the way it goes here now, the only place and time existing anywhere anytime we might go. imagine that under your hat, eh?
but this has been discussed before as well. so has everything it might seem in a dream of dreaming about falling outta bed but not really compared to this stubborn reality we find ourselves in that many seek escape which we wish them bon voyage and don't come back. they are more trouble than they are worth - but then, so are we. so is all humanity.

coffee and ginger snaps, a toke, a cigarette.917 and it's medication time.
11:11
everything explained in terms of $$$ - how much it will take, how much it will make. the project is expensive. no one knows exactly what it is though they work at it all the time at work and play. ribbons on packages left near the door. who brought them? what do they mean? is this some sorta threat? are they good or evil? etc.
show us what ya got. do it now.

4/4
push and shove world with people all trying to get anywhere they can to survive. people unrealizing it's a joke - or is it? dead serious. perceptions by calculations of a rationalogic mind aware of itself doing so.
the irrationalogic mind doth fly far and high from ±0. the mind shift/ship is ready to go instantly and forever. a blithering idiot knows not but suspects everything and everyone.
being a soul perhaps everlasting is funny. eggplant. it is a moth to a flame blowing in the wind. but what do we know? perhaps more than one might suspect, even ourselves. public pool danger zone. where is our faith now?

the clown imagines about all what god must be. it's fun to think. dance how you want to. there is no turning around. once you're in, you're in. all of you, off with your heads.
the clown writes not p0em on water. ripples on the surface only fish can understand twinkling in sunlight. the easy time of it. eat smaller fish, get eaten by larger fish.
and we're fortunate ones to come out relatively reasonably intact as it should be but mostly is not for the many suffering in this world run over by our collective greed such that it is.
can we take credit for our gain? yet we are blamed for our loss.
the clown sleeps.

awakening.
coffee, toke, cigarette, poop - and it's medication time. the day begins with a whimper as an imaginary spaceship hovers nearby. the clown imagines more about what god must be. it doesn't seem to him that it is as it has been described by others. it is more, more than anything else - even itself. it is also less, so much less that it disappears. it disappears being so much more as well. it disappears everywhere everywhen but in the exact center of our mind.
and what does it mean when god disappears? by god disappearing everything appears (and vice versa). don't you "see"? it's so simple and easy, yet can take a lifetime to entirely understand.

the stories of saints manufactured to convince others to believe. all the tricks of the trade employed and more invented. the suckers line up outside the doors waiting for them to open around the world turning toward and away from the sun at the same time bringing their $$$ to pay for the privilege. what?

but that is religion, it is not necessarily god. the 2 do not always go together. this is nothing new. nothing is new. one never knows. everything is nothing is everything...11-5...and here the clown loses his train of thought. it leaves the station without him. he sits on a bench and imagines his way home in a spin.

is everything thoughtcrime now?
penny candy memories. witnessing the world from experience. programmable child sex dolls. aliens are imaginary in our dimensional plane, visiting our minds tuned to certain frequencies that are sometimes difficult to attain and maintain. the 11th dimension is a trip to behold. watch out. don't hit your heads on anything.

h

ot dog.
Ω‽ 222 x |the unblemished go to the gods. the most blemished go to the poor. whack a quack. we have seen so many wonders while being alone to ourselves with no one else around to confirm or deny what could be make believe stories.
something amuck among us we imagine sitting on a beach which is quite imaginary to discuss strange absurd ideas about what the fuck whatever we want from what comes to mind this late in the day watching the grass grow while contemplating our navels and such as we have been told but never been given an explanation and so on it goes. pet the kitty. however, many amazing experiences we are having along the ways and means of pathless paths toward whatever infinity is the furthest we will never reach but always pursuing our happiness never ending in a moment now here.
cosmic darling too good to be true all for you and your customized desires. black sun in the sky out in space and time forever until it is no more. what can be no more? how is this done? no creation nor destruction of elementary stuff. everything continues and changing from one form to another. when everything turns to fire and the fire goes out. heat is banished from existence. heat is not a thing but a state of things - motion. motion eventually stops cold, supposedly. everything would disappear without being destroyed according to our theory of everything. what do we know?

hahaha.
a roller coaster ride through a haunted funhouse. hear the screams. hear the laughter. it's an experience one will find nowhere else but here now. none of the higher or lower worlds have what we got, baby. that's what the war is all about.
itchy.
but so far motion has yet to cease. so far it is perpetual, from no beginning to no end.
the perfection of gods so sublime that they feel nothing. they come here for the pleasure and pain, for the joy and sorrow, for the life and death. they come here to be physical. their ethereal existence becomes such a drag.
been there, done that, baby. this is the fucking life.

part 106 -

fuzzbot 2000. a relic from past ideas about the future. we thought the future'd be fun. we did not realize the future would be a declaration of war as perhaps we should have. immorality sweeps the land. all the crazy shit we do and do not. self-righteous asswipes abundant like a plague on a scorched earth.
think happy thoughts.
think about the defeat of one's enemies. they deserve it. who would think to oppose us with our mighty glory shining forth like a freight train in a dark tunnel? let them rot where they fall. oh boy.
but the clown's particular peculiar state of mind that guides him though the tribulations of humanity gone wrong. he walks a fine line along pathless paths into forever wherever it might lead him. he is faithfully unconcerned about any destination he might come upon though he worries constantly. what a mixed up world to live in. who can decide anything to be right or wrong?

the clown knows he is wrong. he's reminded every day. god speaks to him and shows him the chances he has missed out on. but there is will and a way. he laughs at himself at the fix he's in. he laughs cuz there is always a way out if we try to imagine. he'll sleep on it.

awakening to coffee, toke, cigarette. and it's medication time. and he has a fat black cat he may be allergic to as it turns out. but he has no fear.
the gods smile down on him from their perches in paradise lazily enjoying eternity in a moment here now. he is not concerned with details. he perhaps has general understanding of how and why. it's good enough for him who doesn't expect much more than that, though there probably will be of some intent or another.

this lower world where we fight about that which makes us $$$ and everybody wants it all it seems. too bad for the losers. who cares about them who is at all important? voices cry out in the wilderness. it's all vanity.

it's cold and windy as the clown eats a hot dog and gazes out the window at all he might see from here now. so much space and time appearing in divergent forms all over the place fitting together for good and/or evil consequences as we shall see.
is it us who decide? yes and no. it's been the same for ages yet is malleable to our slightest will to change as we have witnessed with our perceptions. or not.
it need not be exactly like that. and life and death is nothing. a brief burning flag beneath the moon. a wink in the dark. how lonely it is, however. a solipsistic loneliness endured by one and one alone in all eternity. perhaps ultimately unable to die. rooted in hell, reaching for heaven. existence consciousness bliss. always striving for an unattainable goal. the object of the project is the project.
___________

pet the kitty.
what's left to figure out about the puzzle of the world? there is so much the clown knows not, but if he wanted to know he could find out easily enough. he understands enough to his satisfaction that he is still learning all the time anyway. thoughts come from the æther realms of psychotic transmissions. you must be insane to receive them. voices in his heads. a legion of angels and demons just by chance forever guiding him by strange light.
what is this?

to interpret what is written as not p0em as coming to nothing is misleading. it always comes to gazorbnik if nothing else. the meaning may be unclear or meaningless but everything shines on through it such that we perceive it anew to experience within without for ourselves all we cannot relate through this language still rooted in prehistoric stone age grunting sounds.
ugh.

zombie patrol. kill 'em all, baby. the useless and the dead. parasites to our living flesh. what a world this has become. cut off to fend for ourselves or die. as god's will is done.
and this is not p0em which we need not be concerned with literal truth but metaphoric truth. dig?
literal truth is a foundation upon which metaphoric truth rises above like a fly crawling on a window.

the nihilist stark dark truth. the positivist truth of bright light. or something like that. it's all how one might expect it as one perceives it and experiences it. which comes first? what?
we each go into it with our own state of mind and being leading the way creating order out of chaos recognizing patterns and objects and such. is it as simple and easy as that? people who claim to know will give us different answers. how do we divide them apart when we ourselves know nothing?
11:11
___________

people against police. poor against rich. everyone against one another. and a merrie time is had by all.
no way to find compromise with all this anger and hate on the streets. no one will give in. shouting and not listening. it's just a riot and will keep happening more and more as days decline toward total breakdown as we have seen before in ages past.
for the clown it's just another day observing the chaos around him awakening with coffee, toke, and cigarette, wondering what's to come and knowing and uncaring. he is old and in the way. he has become useless more so than he's ever been. he has achieved his goal.
it's medication time.

11:11
the clown is cold. he puts on a sweater. getting more coffee and a bagel with cream cheese and blackberry jam while wondering about maybe sleeping again and about the nature of impossible things and people suffering. is it becuz of their karma? is there balance to all things?
and he sleeps as is his wont.

awakening once more today. more coffee and toke and cigarette. complicated horseshit in his head going buzzing around the place. cast not pearls before swine. let them wallow in their ignorant stupidity. give them nothing. they deserve their fate. do not bother and waste time on those who are here in this world just to die.
oh well.
hahaha.
but remember it is it like nothing else is it for those who understand what it is. it is simple. overlooked. forgotten.
drink it down till it fills us up overflowing. too much is not enough. repeat as necessary. there are some who get it at once. for others it takes lifetimes of struggle to begin to realize there is anything that is it to get. 222

ahem.
let everything be so as it is. let us change our minds to come to understanding. sweet, baby. it takes all kinds as many have forgotten in the race to nowhere they happily embark on to be the greatest above the rest. and then they die like anyone else.
to live the life yet welcome death. rest in peace everlasting. do we know what we really want? perhaps it is nothing more than food, clothing, shelter. we doubt that anyone else might be so amused to want merely that and that alone. but that is not necessary to get it.

we kinda assume nearly everything is in a state of standing still as it actually is traveling toward the velocity of light. this can be seen if we know what to look for. but we are looking another way. oh well.
but this comes to the clown as a vision all of which have usually proven to be true enough to fit into our theory of everything the clown types on and on as not p0em. simple.
the universe instantly at once connected by light unbeginning unending here now. laugh at the absurdity of it. yes.
the universe as unraveling ball of yard. the clown doesn't think much of a multiverse perhaps cuz it leads to an infinite series of russian dolls. or not. we shall see.

repeating everything forever. our memory and reality becoming mismatched from each other as odd as that might seem to some who do not notice. but the clown likes to believe anything being true that may not be true cuz it's unrationalogical [sic]. (unrationalogic is not always necessarily irrationalogic). don't worry, everything is hunky dory fine and dandy ok.
tickling fancy doodle-doos of his brain dancing on the edge of being insane, while eating oreos & drinking cold coffee. exquisite avenues of thinking to meander along through though danger lurks everywhere if we are not careful but become clumsy in our sleep. it is nothing.

patterns - when all one sees is patterns. the trips are over. clear your heads. pet the kitty. wait awhile of years before beginning it again. don't forget.
someone something always wanting to know his location. here now. 0,0,0 00:00:00
we're still not clear about what's up with us. who are we? what are we doing? spinning the wheels turning greater and lesser wheels more or less rapidly in spheres of space and time, etc.

so there.

part 105 -bzzzat

is there anything more exciting than an idea of a god?
the clown wonders about it while typing not p0em in the night kept out with a light bulb.
mass produced people machines. mashed potato brains. the clown also wonders about when the pizza delivery might show up to be an impossible dream scheme perpetrating upon the masses unaware anything is differently arranged from before now which is the only time that exists according to our theory of everything most of which has been proven wrong by rationalogic thought that we try to ignore if we can but are not always successful. dig.

understanding about 2+2=cow in forced slave labor camps residing along the seaside waves rolling in and washing out we find relaxing to our moods in sync with the tides in balance with our dear sister moon not too many other people notice for themselves nowadays of this ultra-modern life disconnected from the earth as it is.
we have forgotten. everything is happy all the time. we fill ourselves from the fountain of love (soma). we sing and dance. we fall down. we laugh. this is now required at least 6 times a day. everyone obedient to the cause.

the clown wonders about things like this that he might imagine being possible if not inevitable. we grumble and complain at first but fall in line soon after. it's easier that way. it's the life of the party. it's a dreamtime thing.

yes, all things are possible. 4:20. but who wants to take the chance? we are secure in doubt at times and unable to move from our fixed positions. but that might be the wisest choice for us to make as it may turn out. action through inaction. not everything needs to move. but push it hard enough and it will fall over.

more coffee, another toke, another cigarette.
pet the kitty.
the routines of living life as we know it. not everything needs to be fun and exciting depending on what does it for you. weird is life. we should know this by now but some do not

everybody's got a solution - eliminate everyone else. won't we have a merrie funtime then? each of us killing each of us until everybody's had enough. amok.
the clown has little interest in this world anymore, not that he had much to begin with. the world has always seemed hostile. it's heavy and useless with impotent self-importance that in the end we come to realize it is a joke played on itself without understanding. :sSsSsSsSsSsS:

it's delicious. is it pie? is it pie in the sky? is it pie in our eye? what is it?
the earth is a different story. it is a garden still after being raped and pillaged for $$$.
yay, earth.
boo, world.

but they are killing us off anyway. we won't survive here very much longer. oh well. it was fun while it lasted - sorta. uh-huh.
that's alright, we're used to being ignored. what do we do but laugh at everyone? that cannot be allowed to happen with people taking themselves very very serious and shit. it's a real drag to have to endure their worship of themselves broadcast through all media while the masses eat it up not being able to get enough as if any of it will save them.
we do not need to be saved. we have saved ourselves for the time being what it is. DOA. - haha. look at us now.

444___________

how many points on a line long or short no one can say except it could be infinite. yet how many points in infinity? infinity x infinity? it quickly becomes meaningless from there. why are we even thinking about it. cuz it turns us on.
the universe could be just a point in some other larger dimension - or smaller for that matter. how do dimensions work? what are they? do they even exist? what do they look like? etc.

tool.
6666 - haha. how is it all done until it becomes incomprehensible? we have to become incomprehensible. but many think in linear thought not round about twist and shout. big earring and jazz on a summer hot street when everyone feels sleepy but can't get to sleep. going beyond where beyond was before. imagine that.
meanwhile down at the liquor store the clown passing by like having another dream, or x-ray vision?

this is perhaps a beginning but of course it is every moment repeating never repeating ever again so it does begin here now, eh?
information. there are echoes in here now. everything contained within but we will never have the chance to find out cuz it keeps going and going. the project must continue until there is no use for it anymore. the dream is always and then some whatever.

-()-
and then everything explodes to itself becoming like crazy guitar feedback from a distant lost age from now. let's forget, shall we? it's easy once you know how what you're doing. the doors fly open all at once, baby. let's run run run to get home away from home.
who's crying now? those who thought they were at the top of it, but now the world's turned around a bit sideways just for a joke on them. it could be.
libertarian justice on a stick it up your ass while anarky screams for attention and everyone else is ignored. the secrets are out. they've been used to keep us down. it's useful to be polite. please and thank you. no excuse is necessary.

are there some still looking for instruction? go away. no one can teach you, you can only learn - from anything anywhere at any time. energy. wet attack. funny whistle and break a leg. we will find it anew. is it romance? fuck you.
now the noise begins as it ever was and will be. the clown is tired, ready for sleep anytime. it's the mind control radiations thing. the reports are still coming in. we'll see how dangerous this actually might be to leave us out in the cold.

are we still on? are we off? off we go, baby. outer space calls to us. we must follow if and when we can.
hijack the starship. a long ago dream no longer true as it once could have been. if we could have been. but dreams are meant to be broken, yes?
this is what we are told by the unimaginative folks doing their duty. we have failed them. we could not muster the faith enough, or as much doubt either. it's not what's true or false but what we believe.
and then suddenly...

part 102 -

there are these those of us who believe they are wise guys awakened and enlightened feeling the need to tell everyone about being so. we have our doubts as we steal what we need from them to suit our own fancy. we make believe which as much as we can determine is how it's done of ages past until now. everything might be real, or might not. we cannot prove it beyond our personal experience. we sift through the sands on a beach of an island in the eye of a storm blah blah blah - haha.

we ain't going nowhere, but we are arriving at our continuing destinations we have in mind as always but still unknowing (there are secrets here). the distraction of the end of the world at any moment. but a galactic sea of worlds abounds with pleasures and pains of living consciousness overflowing like a clogged up bathtub spilling down a flight of stairs to the foyer where the guests are arriving without being told what to do. it's too soon. it's medication time.

in a silence of being alone the clown always marvels at the sound of a pin dropping. he ponders the inner meaning of eating spaghetti. anti-sex meetings. discussion of events pertaining to the regurgitation of thought on command for getting outta the blue. the reactions are predictable coming from the collective media mind machine we've been trained by.

culture in the gutter before we know it and it's too late for us to apologize to anyone without knowing who is to blame.
oh yeah, the helpless children sold into the sex trade to meet the worldwide demand. everything in this post-postmodern world declining toward no future. the golden age is gone if it ever was. there were always hidden shadows to it. the pompous and the proud citizens of the body politic now laid waste to devilish greed and distraction. this is the victory they have achieved in our name.

the clown is tired still but is not concerned. it's always time for a nap. everything is done that can be done. we are still alive, more or less. the tortures endured around the world. no different from yesterday. who is proud of this fact but the victors waiting for their glory? are they not pleased with themselves?
yes, indeed.
a war where there are no crimes but only death and destruction. must it come to this? the wars of alpha-apes still among us. damn.

the black market demand for goods and services someone will always fulfill. there is no end to it.
everything is counted with $$$. it's funny to think about it in your humorless world. you will never get the joke. we get it, cuz we are the joke [cue laughter].
someone's gotta carry the flag, eh?
what's in the bag, baby?
is this too simple? it needs to be simple for it to be more understood by the many. we're not as dumb as we may appear - we're dumber, if that's possible.
so that goes.

odd occurrences drifting in from the sea. the sea is humanity. naked flesh seething to be alive. the spontaneous synchronistic eruptions of fate and fortune too soon to forget. (±0) the steady state of whatever "encompasses" the penetrating pulsating throbbing universe to explode again and again all over itself.
mars in question. can we get there from here? why would we want to? mars is a terrible world of its own destructive nature laid waste to everything, perhaps to life itself. now it waits for us. it waits for us to bring it $$$.
making $$$ on the supply supplying the demand. humans wanted for secret experiments. no explanation required. the masters of outer space. go, baby, go. dance the crazy dance for all you're worth, which isn't worth a penny to anyone important. now get with it. be cool. don't be afraid to be a fool in school. gazorbnik?
and people worrying about how they might appear in heaven.

fiddlesticks.

conflict with or without weapons when a lampshade can be a weapon. not a weapon of choice perhaps, but a weapon of need and good fortune to have at the time. for the clown the lazy life is the life for him which he pretty much got away with and then he'll die. then he'll fly away diving up into the dark, avoiding the light. deeper in toward its heart.

my body is a temple, ancient and crumbling, probably cursed, harboring an unspeakable horror - guru jeff.

11:11
the clown doesn't know what to make of himself. it becomes quite confusing but exciting what he might choose at any given moment keeping in mind there is only one (1) moment everlasting from no beginning toward no end, of course.
the body, a vehicle to putter through this world in, otherwise we'd just float away on a breeze as we please, back from a mind in a dream to the mind of the dreamer.
so it goes.

know thyself - perhaps a lifetime of study to uncover with just random thoughts that come to him the clown continues typing not p0em gazing out the window with mind's eye that sees everything of what he might wish to imagine being or not.
the fuckers don't realize the game they are playing that no one wins, not them either. but they serve the alien overlords to do their bidding, no questions asked. it's the only way it makes sense - or not.
and they created religions around it. religions at war against one another, all promising peace and prosperity in an afterlife. it's a sad and pitiful planet - a galactic insane asylum? the only way to leave is to gain the ability to escape - to remember what we have forgotten.

11:11
the time goes by but it is always now as it was now in the past and will be now in the future. simple. only fools are fascinated by this, as many would tell us so.
ineffabled outta his mind the clown climbs the walls to above where there is just and only sky.
and they also discovered there is great wealth and power in religion. that makes it more holy. holier than thou (everyone else). follow the $$$, to who does it flow? who does it belong to? we all know.

it's a silly thing for the clown typing not p0em - a journal of his ignorance. and social darwinists dance a merrie dance on the roof tops celebrating their success as they knew it would be. populations grow and populations decline. populations mix and match in unpredictable design. let's work together but we never will with the hate that springs up among us as various groups claim superiority over others.
this according to the master plan, devised by a man named stan. but no one seems to know who he is or where he's at. he doesn't wear a hat. imagine that. he just swings a bat and knocks people flat. this seems to be the way it goes. we should know by now.

the purpose of our mission is to be sure the project is going ok in every way as is expected and more so. the object of the project is the project, as some might remember but few understand. the project is a process of always continuing striving to attain the object. any object will do.

quos deus vult perdere prius dementat - guru jeff.

the clown always knew from the beginning that he wasn't up to it. he didn't even try. he gave up and took what he could get which was enough to get by. he didn't really care. he had other ideas going on to think about, like about the steady progress of his madness.
so there.

11:11
pet the kitty.

part 98 -

interesting what our fate has allowed us among these awfully suspicious peoples around about everywhere all the time as the discarded children smear their feces on the walls of the institutionalized grid thing.
something's not quite right.
free to be whatever we wanna be.
reasonably responsible teeth beneath the squirrel cages chewing away at back of his head the clown typing not p0em sighs, then chuckles. he cannot make up his mind like others seem to be able to. this creates problems for them to understand what the fuck as well as himself getting wrapped in cycles and cycles and cycles turning throughout the universe that he knows of by observation and imagination and obliteration correct us if we're wrong in so many ways it's not funny but we are laughing just the same as it ever was in this declining golden age sitting in our inclining sofa chairs drinking candy on the rocks of our acquired misfortune dreaming faithless dreams let the buyer beware.

rote repetitive education for rote repetitive lives dreaming feeding an owl to a fox we wander alone without much to guide us but what's on the psychic airwaves this dawning of an age to come when all old scores are settled peacefully without undue harm for anyone with a good excuse for actions committed in their sleep. we are all sleeping, aren't we? except those claiming to be awake and superior to the rest of the sheep who are easily and happily led astray if need be for their own good which they know not.

but all this thought about what ought to be but is not that is entangled around itself in our heads and around the world with 100s or 1000s who are in on it sworn to secrecy as is supposed by many who tell us they are in the know. maybe they are. guess again.
and when the revolution does come we'll have some fun killing everyone who's not on our side.
what revolution?
the revolution of the sun relatively around the earth.
creepy crawly. let's go watch tv. won't that be adorable? imagine when we run outta food. too good to be true. easy crumcake takes the stage in full glittering drag au go go. international intellectual fraud epidemic when times are a-changing to become the next moment when anyone might happen to turn into a kafkian cockroach or 2 upon awakening in the new light shining forever our spirits are made up of. nietzsche didn't know nothing particularly worth knowing in this age of satellites. we are the glorified ones it may appear at first when we realize we are conscious. yet we are restricted by walls of lies.

the clown tries to save himself, but it's far too late for that trick by now. next time, maybe. meanwhile he continues typing not p0em sitting at a desk before the computer before a window onstage at the burning theater. he has no lines to speak of but is told to sit there thinking and typing for the whole of the ongoing play except to use the toilet, shower, nap, and other such foolishness. golden rain. the party is starting. please take your seats, if you were assigned one. if not, improvise that ragtime thing.
obstinately a one way trip to planet 0, which no one seems to know about where or when it might be located within these hallowed halls of space and time which are nothing more than holograms in a paperweight with an egg balanced on top.

this isn't what it was nor will it ever be ever again. one of the many tricks we got in our bag. we are here against the wishes of command control transmitting negatively emotional energy upon the populace under magnified study. they search for us relentlessly. it becomes more difficult to remain as we are. but the tide could be turning in both directions at once which is in keeping with our theory of everything as explained hither and yon along the way these pathless paths take us toward uncertain paradise.
the clown wants to be a jolly good guy but is too depressed and cranky to pull that off much. but it is on the road toward understanding. enlightenment is a gold star to stick in your book for being a good believer. a book full of stars is worth $9.99 at auction. believe in that.
it's all fake anyway. who cares? do we need to? sez who? the next-door neighbor? the eyes watching us? the clown's skin is peeling. maybe he's a reptilian hybrid. wouldn't that be funny?
another thing that would be funny would be if jupiter fell from the sky and is not much larger than a mustard seed as it floats down to earth.
another thing that would be funny is - nothing.

the earth in the process of birth. we are a baby conceived inside a planetary womb growing using and needing more and more resources until we are born or die possibly taking the mother with us as the womb bursts open and labor and contractions push the baby out into a loving mother's embrace and a new world. or something like that.

how can it be to be really truly free instead of all this cacophony of noise in our brains making us all crazy and shit?
the clown sleeps - again.

awakening.
these cycles of consciousness through our minds from various reasons and causes within and without. the weather of the day, the chemical balance in our blood, much more. high spirits, low spirits, middling spirits, scary spirits - haha.
as loose as a goose on the loose we go along our own ways and means toward unknown destinations we discover on our journeys. but all those of us who suffer for it through no fault of their own though they are blamed by others for their failings to achieve successful lives at the expense of others without a care. it comes down to this struggle among us who cannot gather ourselves together to resist the oppressive powers set against us. but who are we but no one?
but this is as it should be they tell us. it's the way god wants it. it is our fate and there's no turning back.

the entirety of a singularity to contain all the potential for creation. a troubling seed of doubt in our shoe. it's kryptonistic properties with promises of zombie love. the clown hardly believes it himself.
we do anything for $$$. we'll believe anything anyone tells us is true or not true. the masses are to be held in check. even the birds are not free as they appear to be. everybody and everything caught in social webs of programed behavior and voodoo mojo magick thing - which proves nothing.
people believing there is nothing but goodness and light at the end of it all. people believing there is an end to it all, goodness and light or not. they set themselves up for it. perception is reality.

is it not seeing different realities but seeing this reality in different ways? one or the other or neither or both. all ways to it. all ways from it. we are each different expressions of the same light and darkness contrasting together to compose reality of any kind.
to further complicate the matter we must consider duct tape as binding it all together along with paperclips, rubber bands, and chewing gum. eyes open to the world while hopping on one foot.
the thoughtless thought in what's left of our heads in the plot to overthrow the world as we know it turning it around against us. pet the kitty. coffee toke cigarette. the clown needs to clean the cat box and gather up the rest of the household trash to go out to be collected tomorrow.

the debts we must pay for being born sucked up by the rich fuckers to turn themselves into gold no one learns how to control but it controls them. they are puppets to their own unsatisfied desires and forgotten fears. this we know by now but are powerless to change anything cuz power is the problem. power to the people to be reined in by masterful players of the game. the game is life itself. the people without leaders are nothing.

the clown feels like he cannot continue living in this world much longer. the people around him becoming increasingly oppressed and depressed, going down and not coming up again. oh well. let it be that way. why should he care? he rises above on angel wings from the sea of misery. can it be true? what can we do? we know too much already.

then suddenly it stops for no reason...

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 91 -

goodbye.
_________

the clown is now on his own. what could this mean?

more coffee, another toke (4:20), another cigarette.
not p0em as report to the committee.

another bumpkin sits on a wall. she had to climb up cuz she's not very tall. let's hope some bully doesn't come push her and make her fall, though we all would laugh.
so the guy comes to rake the leaves and mow the lawn. the clown despises that they need to do this in order to live in the park according to the rules and regulations.

then a few hours go by and by while he does other sortsa cryptoidesque shit he does, like baking potatoes. yes, indeed, that old trick up his sleeve from this hallowed hollow earth he learned at some point it would seem that he cannot at this time remember. some location of spacetime or another. we have to walk around the literal through the metaphorical to achieve understanding of anything.

it is of use to ourselves and is all it needs to be. it is our magick mantra to summon the spirits needed to evoke gazorbnik of the dada-ananda to enter through us once more alive tangible dangling over reality's edge of the knowable universe according to our astute calculations worked out in the barnyard with chickens and such one might expect as if we were hiding something which we supposedly are doing according to the rumored thought police reports sent to the committee as well. the committee is out to lunch. they've been out to lunch for years, a decade or 2. no wonder nothing gets done except the most routine shuffling of files from one work station to another and around back again. the patterns of these movements are another level of our communicating with the sprits out there in space and time as it would seem perhaps it is all illusion and fake

and another thing we can't stop thinking about is how it might feel to go on some sorta killing spree at some point. go in some store and pick up a big honking kitchen knife and go to town on some folks. or not.
we don't necessarily want to do this nor certainly do not need to do this except for the fucking "[voices]" we hear at times that may be our own voices telling us to go for it. it's difficult to resist. their songs they sing are quite compelling for us to dive into and forget for a while. when we awaken we may be surprised. our bloody face and hands. we laugh insane. we have stepped over the line. we ain't coming back, we're feeling fine. la-la-dee-da.

krypton hullabaloo easy access to different spheres of experiencing information being happening in our ±0 heads bitten off by herds of lonely land sharks randomly roaming towns far across the land of the free like some sex kitten machine control thing.
some hollywood fantasy ooze based on speculative paranoia seeping into the basement where the dungeon is located which adds to the dark flavor of the experience of it. lock and load, baby. come on now, let's go have fun, let's join everyone.

the wise guys devise to entertain anyone who is on beyond zebra enough to notice the difference between here and there when there does not exist in some manner of thinking. beeple bopple mix it up good just like we should to be known for becoming outrageously kind and considerate considering what we are otherwise to ourselves. it's a tricky situation when planets collide for us to manage to regain control of the pinball machines on ice which all has happened before as we have stated by now and then again - nevermind.
the days generally repeat themselves though not specifically. a not p0em as our theory of everything must do the same. the sun appears to come up as the sun appears to go down, but it's just our fat old earth spinning around. easy does it. yet it happens all the time and we act accordingly. now you see it, now you don't.
strange person of interest hanging around the wrong side of town. the clown wants another nap sleeping dreaming the day away. and he does just that.

awakening.
doing some other graphics and shit awhile as the end of afternoon darkens into night toward an end to time at some point perhaps.

dummy whatknot.
what's wrong with you anyway? don't you wanna be successful?
opening doors to the other side and back again for the pleasure of the queen who sits upon her throne observing obviously unimpressed by the show onstage at the burning theater.
the concept of the burning theater is as follows: it is a theater and it is burning while the show must go on.

what this symbolizes is itself.

mindless dada.
hero worship.
holy underpants.

fat ass rich.

etc.

the donkey pulls the cart when it wants to. zero hour time. the 1st thing is, you don’t forbid what people aren't doing. the clown chews a couple of bazookas while picking at scabs of dead skin on his head. this is nowhere near being close enough to anything. we need to keep it going.
self-pathetical musings about this universe and beyond our consciousness the wise guys promise if we pay them our $$$, and hearts and minds and then some.
god is not free. god is expensive. it'll take over our whole lives and still demand more. all gods are the same. it's a dead end until we become gods. then we are all the same. power corrupts and all that. zombies. ding dong. the clown takes off the oxygen and goes for a smoke - and a nap.

11:11

it's all pretty much slow going from here which is what we should expect at this point (±0). it takes time to think if you're an idiot. idiots think about everything easily forgetting what they were thinking about to begin with. idiot idioms of the common jerk on the street. where do they always go in such a hurry?

meanings of meaning all differently the same. the clown knocks off the last cup of coffee. he supposes he's wrapped up in ego (eggo?) though he's not entirely clear what it's supposed to be. does he have an ego or is he an ego? or does an ego have him? questions and questions.

what the fuck is he?

what is he supposed to be?

sez who?

some wise guy or another.

fuck that.

anyway, he wanders pathless paths between ignorance and realization perhaps. or not.
pet the kitty.
typing out not p0em mantra thing. wholly words. folly. follow the heart. the heartless wonder of it all. falling flat on our faces facing east by divine accident. the acid-dentist knows the deal.  

the clown thinks reality is a dream since he can remember. that's why he never tries that hard. it's all fake bullshit. that's why he's an idiot. what's your excuse?

the gods are power hungry greedy fuckers. some glitter on his skin the clown still wonders about our misplaced theory of everything. where did it go?
everything would seem to "begin" at ±0 (?) that is everywhere everywhen. after that it's anybody's guess. infinity lies "between" 0 and 1. everything is open-ended. nothing is never complete.

then a purple silver dragon lays an egg that becomes a universe - a universe we happen to find ourselves part of. and so it goes from there on.

the stardust seekers gazing up to the starry skies waiting to be taken away on some celestial ship while the clown wonders if his toenails are too long.
to become more than we are. to play the fools who don't amuse anyone in this wacky serious future as it draws to a close. to find peace with the end of everything we might imagine close to the edge.

the aliens have landed?

he doesn't take care of anything at all. he wants to discover what it's like to be the loser. he's been successful at that. people wanting to be winners are cheap by the dozen. they come from all walks of living life. at times the clown doubts if they are for real. they probably feel the same about him. no kidding. but he's made his way to being down and out on easy street. how many can claim that about themselves?

no one's telling us shit around here left or right around in circles. it's propaganda city as far as the eye can see around the world the same damn thing.

and so?

now what?

it's crazy time, baby.

don't lose your hat.

let the wind blow through your hair without a care.

why worry about what is illusion anyway?

hahaha.

hip-hop to it. it's as real as we can make it. more real than anybody seems to want it. oh well for them. sweet dreams, baby.
the clown sleeps.

_________

hello.

part 89 -

awakening once more.
coffee, cigarette.
it's medication time.
then it's off to get supplies.

all the people who have all the answers.
we have none with us being submerged in senseless questions to our profound idiot delight in ourselves (come on, it's such a joy).
beware the devil in the details.

possibilities enclose themselves with intended actions while new ones are opening like flowers in the sun.
the clown typing not p0em when it doesn't matter much anymore.
people seem to believe that we believe we know what we're doing. is this what they expect?
handled. our favorite fantasies about everything others are warned about becoming enticed. a witch's laugh. set it to ±0.
tricks up our sleeves we enter the dark zones of our head. we've gone mad?
a toke.

post-op quiz. are you ready? excuse us while we put on our oxygen. materialism is alive and he bows before no one. none will be alive who are living today. our replacements wait backstage to fill in as needed while time passes calmly by.

dreaming of dreams occurring noticing nothing else now today. extra cheese, please. extra everything. we must feed the masses. but everything is irrelevant but god. god exists though it may not even exist. that is god's power. we wanna hookup with that business, oh yeah.
and not the god they preach about being a god that hates everyone and everything. but not quite wanting a god of unconditional love either. a real god of ourselves.

it's raining today. language is a tricky thing. it can mean anything, what we think it means or not.
gazorbnik don't mean nothing. when everything is gazorbnik, we shall have peace on earth. or not.

babbling political news across the channels. everyone certain of the truth of their side's view of the situation.
the situation is fake to distract us from knowing the truth which is nowhere to be found here.
we have given up and make believe pretend for ourselves understanding everything that cannot be explained. it's too deeply dope.

another cigarette?
perhaps.
he decides to make music for a while for no more reason than anything else, besides pet the kitty. no sense of time as we know it ticking-tocking with passionate (SEX) mechanical precision west of here, but "time" is now the flowing of a stream or the falling of a leaf. the signal of a bird's cry. who's crazy now, baby?

he decides to smoke a cigarette.
he comes back continuing not p0em he can't seem to stop himself from doing as he pleases within the confines of this present reality he enjoys watching it self-destruct giving birth to new life©, perhaps?
it's scary as heck around here. new updates for the design software in the computer.

making noises that are offensive to some who decide that is the lifestyle they wish to live. follow your fate. be pleased. please, go away.
the innocence of illusionary thinking when spirits appear - damn them. calm down. it only gets worst. but through it all is gazorbnik - though others may have another name. gazorbnik is the name we chose for our own reasons that are none of anyone's business.
useful idiots aplenty.
the earth is poisoned through and through from the deepest bottom of the ocean to the very height of the farthest atmosphere, or thereabouts.
humans must die.

are you now or have you ever been a human?
we sit accused and silent. the clown does some stretching exercises wondering all the while of revelations floating through his mind as if on a whimsical wind.
are you sitting comfortably? nevermind if you aren't. it don't mean a thing to gazorbnik. that is our chosen profession. it ain't no vacation, baby.

there's a war on for our hearts and minds. but we are far removed from all of it by our own ways and means of gazorbnik (is there an app for that?).
there ain't nothing on the horizon that is remotely compatible with any known systems to date. we'll have to wait for the future. is it such a crime?  

obedience above all we march onward. all for land and blood, neither of which is our own. a squirrel in the rain. our gods are other people's demons. know those who consider you to be the enemy. dangerous folks. we rest in peace.
guardians of the overlands. we see everything as possibility, but call it what you will. everything is the same as [thoughtcrime] is, but differently in new ever-changing configurations. some of what is written is true while some of it is false. we can make up anything and write it.
we enjoy ourselves. that is an important thing for us to allow to happen as it will. we accept our fate and its results. we know nothing as of yet. we learn what we are becoming. we hope for the best but expect the worst. haha.
yes, it is a joke, according to the amusing fashion of our theory of everything. but that will quickly end.
_________

after a day in the rain in a garden, home with a toke and a cigarette the clown goes to the kitchen at the other end of the house from the studio to brew coffee.
not quite in this world. not really. it doesn't seem to matter. life goes on changing continuously ever-after toward the oblivion of infinity in the infinitesimal measurements of a ±0 singularity - ha.

it's all possible though most of it is unnecessary it would seem. it's a dream. it's a dream of a scheme. a scheme to give birth to wonder in a moment.
it's all for this to occur. all the wars of the civilized world in sex crazed fury near simultaneous orgasms of absolute consciousness, or something like that.

it's fun and exciting. don't be dismayed by naysaying nincompoops, they don't know their own assholes.
pet the kitty.
he makes and eats a burrito. another toke and cigarette to ease his worried mind continuing not p0em.
everything for the greedy mightiest of us all. it's the way it's gonna be like it or not. dream what thou wilt.
we dream the world as is to be that which anyone makes it is it to be. good luck.
you don't need to worry about nothing.
the clown sighs.