Sometimes I draw a random word from my random word generator for any multitude of reasons. Today I rolled for a word to write about; "necklace" was what spawned. This reminds me of our seventh grade field trip to Ithaca to see Cornell, the baseball hall of fame, as well as one nature trail where I ceremoniously sacrificed my see-thru purple game boy color with a maxed out 100% completed Dragon Warrior 3 cartridge under the waterfall.
This was also the field trip where I stole a $10 chain necklace that would wind up in my ass a week later as I was curious what that texture would feel like on my sphincter. My dad questioned me on it when picking me up. I bullshitted on the spot. I used to be really good at that. It was my primary survival skill in childhood. Oh, I spilled some milk? Into the bookcase I got thrown!
This was something that I learned about the human condition when I was in the cult. We visited this intentional community in Northern California called Heartland where I would participate in a blindfolded trance dance (no drugs but weed) which I know was a sort of healing ritual deliberately designed around me as it very skillfully sent me into a part of myself I locked away - my feminine side - and it was in such revolting agony that I entered into a state of mind I would call "the hollow" in reference to how I felt hollow like the flame; devoid of all good or bad feelings. Did some regretful things because of that, but this was all planned and scheduled, as one of the signs in this community said something about "mommy and daddy issues" that made me realize they brought me there for very specific reasons.
There was a man there, a genius engineer who made "mutant vehicles" for Burning Man, y'know, he was working on a four-story bus with stages n shit that collapsed into it that he said would likely be sold for about 60k profit, and he did this every year and these are the kind of lives I saw were possible, as there were other skilled artists that were using this intentional space for flow states. But, this builder told some stories of his life, one being how he died once when his father beat him to death and he was watching his body from above after this, and because of that story, I learned why I was a certain way.
I told my father last night that he metaphorically broke my spine. I mean, I judged his wrath for falling apart in school to be more of a threat than the United States Military, so in a way, I got balls bigger than God, because I didn't have a fucking plan. I literally did something different for each of my cadre members, lying I mean, but therein, I never fumbled, always having an answer on the spot. And now I don't have this skill anymore having lived an ever more honest life for over a decade.
I remember the shit I used to lie about as a kid. Y'know, I fainted during health class during the STD unit thanks to the only sex talk I received from my father being an hour of him showing me diseased genitals when I was ten, and I had to wear a heart monitor for a day, and I convinced a quarter of students that I was in an experiment with NASA. That doesn't even make fucking sense, and neither does 90% of what the News says, and they convince WAY more than a quarter of all people that the bullshit they shovel is true, so obviously, you see what value the CIA has made for America by teaching me how to be completely honest and authentic: I'm proof Jesus was real!
...or at least proof of the mastery of skill of the spiritual healing practices available to the Empire of the Sacred Heart.
