I still can’t cure poison, it’s not in my power –but I can barter for the antidote.

When it began, I was messing with a houseplant. Outside of the window were three young boys playing with a crossbow – and then they shot me in the head. As I was passing out of this world, I saw them worried about getting caught, one of them was crying. Then my dad found me, and they shot him too. I remember being angry that the last thing my dad ever did was discover my dead body.

And then we were in purgatory. It was a literal waiting room – a bunch of strangers were also there. At first I still had my cell phone.. But it was minkled. I told it to quit being a perv, and two teenage girls were acting all high and mighty accusing me of being a perv. I was irate and yelled at them with wrath in my head, and poof. They disappeared. An old woman sitting next to me told me “you didn’t have to kill them!” I was confused. I had just killed them? She went on to say “In purgatory there are consequences to your actions. Check your wrath, young lady.”

Not long after, the three boys showed up in purgatory. I was furious, but dad wanted to forgive them. In purgatory, dad could walk again. Anyway, dad and I left the room and went to the parking lot where we found a car dad was able to start. He drove me all the way to the LEELA message on the mountain in Juarez so I could see the city lights. But then we got shot again and were back in the waiting room.

This waiting room was different. The old one was hazy and had windows. This one was white and had no windows. But there were scraps of paper, pens, and an office plant in there. There was also a man and woman who seemed to have some authority over the goings on. Apparently my dad and I were supposed to pray to the domed temple for protection, but prostrating in the Islamic tradition.

I tried to make notes in the dream but this got me in trouble, and purgatory got reset. This time when I started taking notes, all of my words would become redacted immediately. The man of authority kept the three boys preoccupied and the woman was explaining to me not to waste my time writing notes.

One of the boys decided to make PBJs for everyone. I refused to eat one but other people did, including my dad. Apparently they were poisoned. I found my dad dead again and wanted revenge. I hatched a plan, but not long after this I woke up.

–15 July 2017

your voice was so loud, the one staring out of your eyes

the universal design, singularly formed and ultimately formless was found fitting for the conductor this dawn. names and places have been changed to protect the innocent. his name was *Modem Sacrilege, and he was a stickler for honesty. the perfect candidate to be an *angel. like a lesson in thermodynamics, he was thrilled to finally spot a kibomail. only it wasn’t. it was actually from her. but it was sad. it was more than *MS happened to expect. this heartbreak though would be a forgivable one.. a missed date.  this is an error that could be corrected.  am/pm and RR crossing for lack of emoji.


Consciousness..yes? Your consciousness or my consciousness?

It’s tempting, but I can’t write about Remote Viewing.  This is a rule I have managed to weasel around by writing in multiple perspectives, which can get really tricky. Going back and reading it is kind of agitating to me with my thoughtstream trying to purify its dichotomy.  Trying to comb out the spiders.  Yeah. The really vicious ones.  So much tense. The zone 9 test? Trying to keep the speech of angels free is what I believed in. Somehow it didn’t fall flat. I was blessed and illuminated, maybe people thought Alternate Reality Game.

I have this memory that is just precious to me. 15 minutes that fractured and split off in two. some misunderstood niche poet and a nerd… bending time. I felt like I’ve lost it over and over again, the marble. Marbles make terrible totems. But so do pills, and I don’t want to overexcite my weak kokoro heart so i have to take them to keep these thoughts in packets. And worlddream is something I savor as hard as I can when I return to it. When I was in new york with lynnie (impossible) tender from youth and the aftereffect of radiosonics experiments, I’m so confused about my early twenties.  I just have to remember how precious the dream time I spent in New York was. Here’s an assignment for anyone who actually is trying to wrap their brains around this now that I’ve broken the 4th wall. the thing is, it’s hard to trap an idea by any means and inception is really about creating a sophisticated design.  Not pattern, design.  It is fractal in nature, and the beauty is the infinite’s gift to us – the human experience.

Here’s what sucks most of all, mirror, we misgendered two posts in a row which cancels the marble out. Lesson Learned.

okay, it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life– and i’m feeling good.

The pot has been stirring for a long time now but I am here. I’ve been on medication now since 2014.  it’s been up and down, and mostly down, but i want to create universes again. keeping them free of poison is my challenge, and what i find hardest is keeping my self image in check.  Meditating is hard. But I’m doing it again. so here I am again typing to the world within this sphere. the weird.  it’s just that i have to keep combing the weird from the blossoms.  this is the only login i have left. gender is wrong. this is abuse of a pen name. i’m aware. i’ll try to fix it.

jury duty came up again. i really need it to be something i can manage just in case i do get called. i could not pry any old secrets from my one note journal and it is not one i can put into the wired. it’s just not worth your time, much like most of this stuff isn’t worth anyone’s time. time is money, friend.  oh, and i forgot to mention, nothing but cigarette sale spam on the comments so far. i think we’ve found our public alone place.

A Bad Robot’s Day at Burning Man

“Hello, so what are you doing around here?” he asked, making small talk finally alone with her on the patio. “Playing the role of the Oracle in this game we call Life: As We Know It.” Josh started laughing with giddiness at how naturally coy she was when she was communicating with additional eye contact layers.               Oh, holybejeezusfuckself, get control of things, please stop laughing you idiot wreck, be cool. Why the fuck did you drink 5 coffees earlier you fuck of a fuckstickarg

“You’re cute when you laugh, what’s your name, hm? Why do you ask?”

“Josh,” he said, shaking his head with a dazed smirk. “Forgive me but you’re just really hot and I drank copious amounts of coffee while everyone else was downing beers and I gotta piss like crazy so when I’m done I gotta bolt. Hell of a way to meet..”

“You think I’m hot?” She smiled at him, raising her eyebrows. “Do you plan on coming back outside after you piss?”

“uhhh no, sorry, probably not. It’s late.” The cigarette was about halfway finished.

“You never did tell me why you were here.”

“Well that’s top secret.”

“I guess your last name probably is too then, huh?”

“Wouldn’t matter, but I’m sure you know that.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I wonder if you’re the Josh I’ve been waiting for all my life, or just another one of the million and none Joshes that isn’t the one who holds my heart.”

They finished their smokes.

Josh hesitated, “You know- I wish I could’ve planned for,”

But Katrina was already saying, “Well we could shoot the shit and chug coffee in my room if that suits you but you’ve got a look of regret on your face… Oh, and I do have a toilet.”

Josh winced at his bladder. “I’m kind of expected to chaperone the person I’m sharing a suite with or I would, I have to go. [unintelligible mumbles] Bye.”

So my buddy came into the pub this evening and he works out in the four corners region, rockstar guy, drives a harley, concert promoter, think he plays bass for some speed metal band with a disease name. Unique one though, no tattoos. Likes to show off the bod. Anyway, he’s so psyched he’s sweating through his shirt, and he’s like, “Andy, gotta show you something, buy me a beer, I’ve earned it!” Then he proceeds to undo his buckle, drop trou full frontal. I’m standing there unable to blink- frozen by the sheer incredulity of this hyperreal punchline.

“They call it the Area 51 Body Swap! The wife’s on base doing this new RV test and now I got a whole new perspective on my better half!” Needless to say, Byron broke every glass in the keep trying to tend bar after that. Thank Christ for cheap Solo cups man!

if i pocket my watch will you observe me this time?

i’m so numb and unwarm. rewinded completely but not restarted. the damage is there and it won’t be forgotten. recorded and reported, but i couldn’t. defend. myself. so i leave this post early. ascending the curtain pull then sitting there, Cheshire grin.  rescinding the invitation to knot three loops in the rites of root. don’t worry; it’ll take route.. i won’t be gardening til the point is superior moot.

i wrestle the voices back out of the cockpit to reclaim that gazebo on the patio for a peaceful sunning. i’m happy to be a woman adult. having outgrown infatuation for good (so i hope), yet not become an atheist.. not become a cynical cunt.  do keep in mind that this is a journal, no one reads such things, nonsense.  sentences broken, needn’t a heart to have the resemblance of emotions. reflections of words on a computer screen echo across to other empty beings to pretend that they exceed the meaning of serenity indeed.

i love my nights, i love my knights, i love my blights. i miss the butterflies and the mayflies alike.

i like to think that i’ll get what i want but i know there’s a lot stacked against me yet. i don’t really fret it anymore. i have to keep myself aware; though i’ve done so well, i clearly got careless.

at least jon knows, i fucking love you, jon. put up with me spouting about the fantastic winter night with a muse from the stars and sure, i can pat myself on the back, but i’m still a work in progress. i think i forgive me for revisiting that still, so i hope you do too. you’re the best.

bouncing back out of arizona to kansas today.

ring around the rosetta stones

I had set off on a 45-minute tour and the fire had not yet crumbled into dusk. I was awash in laments as usual wishing that any number of things were possible right this very now.

I can’t divide at that line every time we come to it, love. I can’t mark down the words that were if the severed song is the sonnet for a risen sun mi amour aec7acc3ludi. Worn of watts indefinite none like to turn away from the light. Makes for marginal maneuvering in meat-space when the detritus thoughts collide. Packing the work into the loops while the wise-men concur, I feign authorization when my voice is at the beckoning call.

I was lying to myself as usual, because, as a matter of fact, I’m pathetically lonely without you. I just don’t have that facial recognition anymore, but that was excruciatingly necessary and you probably know it, if you’re still out there. Alive or not, there’s an ember somewhere, I can feel the need to see what I’ve unearthed just scathing in my veins.   Ghosts don’t scare me, but I’m not afraid to admit anymore that actual zombies do. Robots or not, the absent of mind in forms of current time; easy enough to ignore in day to day life, but the ongoing task of imitating them can sometimes rend me.

I don’t necessarily start out each day with the goal of providing anyone with a product, but I abide that one truth law [of time] as much as consciously possible. Awareness situational; just that I never can pick my own safe-houses. There is always the other truth in triad, but it earns no terminology via English all the same as it earns no terminology in electrons illuminating these words in whatever way. I was faithful in 1999, but frail. When the recordings we made of any media get stuck in my head, it still comforts me more than it frightens me. I’m grateful that I still have those dream-whirled discs to revisit.

she saved it for later

later, lincoln logged. he pursed his eyebrows at the pun she’d inevitably saddled him into. if ignorance is bliss, and redundancy increases data integrity, we had rows of angry and furious databases full of ideas at the ready for the impending rally.  we wanted to wake up, we had a reason, we had purpose that went beyond promises.  we just didn’t know that there would not be enough oxygen in the mix and the aergel we were prepared for wasn’t so easy to aspirate.  it was a hard set of conditions to adjust to, but we all survived the recovery transition.

i’m alone once more, female as always, and no alignment can be inscribed. i’ve been throwing the boomerang out every night and dais, but no dice. i may be a rare one but i’m always going to be someone’s cliche. i have another maneuver to make but i feel fear for what the fool’s forgotten. i’m only as sincere as the ramifications of departure can ink me to be..

sentinel science post-assembles to shed shame

but regardless of whether or not i change my name he’d never say the same. all i ever did was duplicate in a way that couldn’t be verified or reconstituted.. but i am still often rendered hopeless for days that cannot be. the years have passed and the sentences revealed i couldn’t spell soliloquy even though i could act one out. there’s nothing to equate the embarrassment i suffer to harassment when i’ve become employed as another’s jester. this time i’m assured it’s fair, but the wheels on the ground don’t roll that bus or reveal the bust in the limelight. even in daylight i pass as any other suburbanite even though dust storms conceal the cataracts from the lenses of those of us who can’t paint with the stars in any kind of light.

i still don’t shiver when my flesh is prickling, i only knew one person to ever tame a hyena. i can’t refer to the prince or princess like i can refer to the blankets or sheaths of the crop. it’s just a different language regardless of how it translates..