Similar to the state of union address of president's without the lies. Well, or different lies, if you want to get technical. I guess I am writing this entry to set out my writing projects of the moment, and lay out my present cosmology, the ideas that spew my writing, and make understanding my work much easier.
I have been spending a lot of time trying to educate myself on current events. I am not always sure what I am looking for... used to be inspiration for something to write about? I did not approve of the political system, but I saw no way to change anything. Had always wanted to... Why not? Once I was looking for a way to break down all their walls and expose evil to a vote -- demand justice... nothing else. Nothing in it for me. Just justice. Plain old humanity winning out over a corrupt system. The Good Guy versus Bad Guy philosophy that was instilled in me by the thousands of books and movies and comics and ....THE OTHER OUR SPARTAN MIND IS BRED TO FIGHT in the Red White and Blue. Warriors swaggering down the street....
You do not become a writer because you want to tell tall tales -- you become a writer because you want to tell truths... sadly enough, you can end up just telling tales without caring about truth, writing to the whimsicial tastes of the time.
I guess I am kind of trying to encourage people to press for or deal with change... convulsions are coming. One way or another, the world is going to dramatically changes. Actually in a lot of ways. As guaranteed as the 2 plus 2 in the math of science.
Political systems change. Can be toward the better. People all over the world will attest to that after throwing out brutal dictators, etc... Humanity is more similar than different. Most peoples all want the same few ethical rights, and when they can come together and work for those issues, their powers become almost unstoppable. They become a framework for a New Justice... because we must only govern on what we agree about.
Political systems change. Can be toward the better. People all over the world will attest to that after throwing out brutal dictators, etc... Humanity is more similar than different. Most peoples all want the same few ethical rights, and when they can come together and work for those issues, their powers become almost unstoppable. They become a framework for a New Justice... because we must only govern on what we agree about.
I am feeling like I am working on another project that just came out of nowhere and consumed me.
The General X prose, which I have no good name for at this point. I started out writing about my own experiences, and then kind of extrapolating out into the futures I see possible, having him trying to figure out how to deal with a society in revolt, and lead them peacefully...
So far I have been writing down a lot of bits of prose that I am going to use to frame the story. I will then use these between narrative, again in the style of waking up jesus... this time, the book within the book will be what X is writing and wants to leave behind.
People who know what is really going on in my life, fans of years, etc... will recognize what I have been through in X, of course. He is a side of me, for sure, that I never want to kill off... an adolescent sneer I will have in my nineties. I placed in all the shit that that was done to me by the government, as well as a few of the political actions that I had a part in. A picaresque book, in which X's diaries and thoughts are arranged to co-inside with the revolt.
Thinking about this kind of shit is very stressful. Writing comedy is one hell of a lot more enjoyable and I miss it and I do not begrudge anyone who just goes there and plays... I do not know how to explain X to everyone in my life, either. The events of the protests in 2007 to now are true, and the connection of loose people working together on the web is true for hundreds of thousands of people, not just me... I guess in one way everything I write in that book is true. The only difference is that I am actually more like the Character in Waking Up Jesus, trapped by his enemies in a geography where there is no movement for revolutionary change... leaving me a rebel with a cause, that I can only advocate with words. And that is what I trained for.
I often write to people that I have been training to be a weapon all of my life. This is true. It started as a physical thing living in a rough neighborhood, then, as I grew politically aware of who I am and where I am, being raised around a union organizing came together with the books I consumed with a crack addicts stealth... man, I had to be reading all day, hiding my books in texts, or drawing in my pad. I did not give a damn about what went on in grade school. I did no homework, basically, until College. When I spent a year in bed in horrid pain after a botched back surgery, the pain would keep me up for days at a time, and I would read up to three books a day, just anything that would help me to slightly out of the pain for a moment.
I formed into myself in that room. Two things happened that come back to me to this day. One, I read a book about astral projecting and actually left my body. After a lot if practice, and then I did not know you have to get away from your body, so both times *I was sucked back into my body.... I knew a very sane guy who swore he knew how to astral project. The other thing that happened to me was,... well, I was downstairs in the house, in a huge hospital bed, and beside me was a window that looked out through some bushes to the sidewalk. A nice view. The window was right there, though... one night I turned to the window and looked out and saw a demon. The face. Leering in at me. I had never seen anything like this. It had white, molten looking skin that glistened as with saliva, a huge open smiling mouth with rotting canine like teeth, and huge, bulging eyes... pointed ears like a classic demon. This was in 1979, when no such make up existed. My heart of course went fucking crazy and I jumped off the bed to get away from the thing... when I looked back it was gone. I mean, I was laying there reading, turned to the window and saw this.
I also saw a demon or something like it when I was about eight. It also was looking in a window at me. This one had green skin, and weirdly inhuman, long face, slicked back black hair, bright red lips... I remember thinking it was a vampire at the time, though I had never seen a vampire in a movie anything like this. This one did not go away, kept staring in at me. I was sitting in a chair, just inside our front door, which had an open window at the time, though it was very high. This thing had to be about six and half feet tall to look in that window... I was so afraid that if I moved it would come in after me. We did not lock our doors.
These two incidents,oddly enough, always make me think of Josh Wheadon, and how vampires had to be invited in. The only other hallucinations I have had in my life were Jesus walking into my hospital room, sitting on the hospital beside me, when I was on Morphine. So I think I can account for my sanity, and not allowing my imagination to run away with me,.
I really ponder the little mysteries that have happened to me that make no sense in the real world that we live in... like Astral Projecting. Proof of a Soul is a pretty wild thing to know about. I used to have doubts about this, but no more. I had to have experiential proof, and
I often write to people that I have been training to be a weapon all of my life. This is true. It started as a physical thing living in a rough neighborhood, then, as I grew politically aware of who I am and where I am, being raised around a union organizing came together with the books I consumed with a crack addicts stealth... man, I had to be reading all day, hiding my books in texts, or drawing in my pad. I did not give a damn about what went on in grade school. I did no homework, basically, until College. When I spent a year in bed in horrid pain after a botched back surgery, the pain would keep me up for days at a time, and I would read up to three books a day, just anything that would help me to slightly out of the pain for a moment.
I formed into myself in that room. Two things happened that come back to me to this day. One, I read a book about astral projecting and actually left my body. After a lot if practice, and then I did not know you have to get away from your body, so both times *I was sucked back into my body.... I knew a very sane guy who swore he knew how to astral project. The other thing that happened to me was,... well, I was downstairs in the house, in a huge hospital bed, and beside me was a window that looked out through some bushes to the sidewalk. A nice view. The window was right there, though... one night I turned to the window and looked out and saw a demon. The face. Leering in at me. I had never seen anything like this. It had white, molten looking skin that glistened as with saliva, a huge open smiling mouth with rotting canine like teeth, and huge, bulging eyes... pointed ears like a classic demon. This was in 1979, when no such make up existed. My heart of course went fucking crazy and I jumped off the bed to get away from the thing... when I looked back it was gone. I mean, I was laying there reading, turned to the window and saw this.
I also saw a demon or something like it when I was about eight. It also was looking in a window at me. This one had green skin, and weirdly inhuman, long face, slicked back black hair, bright red lips... I remember thinking it was a vampire at the time, though I had never seen a vampire in a movie anything like this. This one did not go away, kept staring in at me. I was sitting in a chair, just inside our front door, which had an open window at the time, though it was very high. This thing had to be about six and half feet tall to look in that window... I was so afraid that if I moved it would come in after me. We did not lock our doors.
These two incidents,oddly enough, always make me think of Josh Wheadon, and how vampires had to be invited in. The only other hallucinations I have had in my life were Jesus walking into my hospital room, sitting on the hospital beside me, when I was on Morphine. So I think I can account for my sanity, and not allowing my imagination to run away with me,.
I really ponder the little mysteries that have happened to me that make no sense in the real world that we live in... like Astral Projecting. Proof of a Soul is a pretty wild thing to know about. I used to have doubts about this, but no more. I had to have experiential proof, and
I have also been 'rattled' by a few things, that were meant to..... sometimes I forget that there is a covert war being fought against me, however safe my flesh may be. The game that is played could be orchestrated to jog my memory, make me want to fight back, show that my words are getting noticed, and of course I could go on and on about the different ways such things can be used. A subliminal soup of murky messages.
This song was Little Lion Man, which was very obviously written about me. There are references to my poetry, telling me to 'tremble' like I tell people in a lot of poetry, and something about 'be like your mother before you end up biting your own neck.' My mother dropped out of politics, and she was involved in some heavy shit at times, mobs and unions and God knows what else. It says I am not as courageous as I used to be, and that I am battling a war in my own head. All this crap that really is an attempt to take control of my narrative.
I am still stunned by all the tv shows that did episodes about my rise in the media as a revolutionary trying to change the media. A lot of people in TV like me, and others either hate me or are forced to do shows trying to discredit me. They are afraid of my power, I know that....
I can just see a few people shaking their heads as I bring this up again. Oh, well. Never went away, and never will...
I remember the first time someone hated me over poetry I wrote, in college, about the class war, the husband of a millionaire who went to these readings, the only ones in Toledo, Ohio. I was using the metaphor and writing about Object-Orientation, a theory by Percy Walker, from a book Lost In The Cosmos that had blew me way... other such obscure images. Anyways, I did not expect to be hated.
This song was Little Lion Man, which was very obviously written about me. There are references to my poetry, telling me to 'tremble' like I tell people in a lot of poetry, and something about 'be like your mother before you end up biting your own neck.' My mother dropped out of politics, and she was involved in some heavy shit at times, mobs and unions and God knows what else. It says I am not as courageous as I used to be, and that I am battling a war in my own head. All this crap that really is an attempt to take control of my narrative.
I am still stunned by all the tv shows that did episodes about my rise in the media as a revolutionary trying to change the media. A lot of people in TV like me, and others either hate me or are forced to do shows trying to discredit me. They are afraid of my power, I know that....
I can just see a few people shaking their heads as I bring this up again. Oh, well. Never went away, and never will...
I remember the first time someone hated me over poetry I wrote, in college, about the class war, the husband of a millionaire who went to these readings, the only ones in Toledo, Ohio. I was using the metaphor and writing about Object-Orientation, a theory by Percy Walker, from a book Lost In The Cosmos that had blew me way... other such obscure images. Anyways, I did not expect to be hated.
This guy got up, much older than me, in his forties I suppose, and read this thing straight to me, all pissed off, about how much he loved his MILLIONAIRE wife. It was Toledo, and it was hard to believe this was even happening as it transpired (as way too much of my life has been proven to be). Evidently the rich bitch decided to fight some little class war with me... it really blew up in his face, too. They never came back, and had been regulars. I won. Fuck em... you get God on your side and you can take down Goliath.
Later, on the web, I expected to be hated. I was being obnoxious and it was not for everyone with the short stories. Good fun, and sophisticated and got me a lot of good fans. I was not overtly political. If anything, I thought all voting was kind of a scam, and hoped to ignore the government, and be ignored by the government, as much of my life as possible. I was not easily impressed with Dem or Rep and thought Marx was a fairy tale, so it was all wait and see what the world does...
I wrote about this on Waking Up Jesus, this song.. no need to go into much here, because if you care, go here... http://wakingupjesus.blogspot.com
I am so stupid at times. I forget that my life has any meaning beyond this room, then someone reaches out, through an expensive, public medium, and confronts my words, tries to destroy my confidence, and threatens me.... and they did... but that is nothing new. I am in a fancy prison. They want me to shut up, and are very, very good at trying to make me.
I have also been thinking a lot about Peace lately. I am sick of people throwing out the word revolt. No one wants a revolt. There are better ways to organize and get things done. I studied how to revolt with arms, and it was not pretty. You never want to see such a war in your town. Almost anything is better in my opinion.
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