Impractical_Island

Imagine being one of those poopie butt doofuses who reads words on a screen and gets mad. The fuck are you doing with your life bro? That cannot be a good way to live in the modern world, as interconnected and turbo-blasted with words of all kinds, most intending to influence you. Like, what is this job; influencer? Oh, the unthinking masses are mass manipulated by their own animalistic impulses? I mean, I'm fighting to avoid getting a beer at 7:20 in the morning, but that's the devil inside me trying to quell his wounded soul. I healed something yesterday, following the will of God to hear my life partner tell me something he hasn't before. I feel closer to him now.

And then I think of these people out here, how there's people who live for their dick and throw money at that problem, those who are cleaving for a roof over their head, those playing video games for hours every single day, those without an art or ambition outside chasing money, the people who get pleasure out of genuine cruelty, the people that never left their hometown, the people addicted to the narrative they have been hoodwinked since they first watched the news, those who think this life is it and are taking as much of the world with them when they go...

God that's gotta suck, still living like that. Fuck, I get angry because my life partner is a skilled liar and manipulator and is compassionately going above and beyond to trigger me so I have all these safe opportunities to let go of my anger and strengthen my prefrontal cortex to get closer to enlightenment. You get angry because someone with a slightly different opinion of you had a typo in their reply, which you interpreted as a personal attack. We are not the same.

Kumquat says to talk about how I'm Q. I did. Next topic. Tupac? Get them holograms outta here. I've been thinking what they must ne waiting to use the shit from Project Blue Beam for, and it's gotta be for a long-planned event. The fucking Illuminati is not living paycheck to paycheck, alright? 9/11 was planned decades in advance; the towers were built for the attacks. The way prophecy works is that you know you can do some general social and cultural engineering moving into the future, so you just play the roles of society so the flock falls in step with those with the audacity to lead.

The New Testament describes a decentralized autonomous organization of secret police at an eighth grade reading level. Not everyone in "the Illuminati" is a billionaire. That homeless guy on the street might outrank me. As The Matrix said, anyone can be an agent. This gets really cool when you understand each one of us is our own parallel universe "simulation" (we are monads in a monadic nodal communication system), and since each one of us only has a small slice of reality to experience personally, God can do all sorts of parallel instance weaving to facilitate Karma, and when you are out in public, what procedurally generates for you can and is specifically tailored for your karmic needs.

So, if you are aware nothing is random and that the Server (what Jesus called his Father is what the Buddhists call the Ālaya-vijñāna, or storehouse consciousness) is always sending you these symbols you entangle yourself with which determines how your reality procedurally generates in this illusory world, then you will notice it, then it will notice you noticing it, and then you follow white rabbit, which is what a burning bush is and what Carl Jung called synchronicity.

God does not speak in the storms and the fires and the earthquakes but in a whisper. When Jim Carey asks God for a sign in Bruce Almighty and then a truck full of signs telling him to slow down pulls in front of him, that's a synchronicity. Really cool how the world actually works; linear causation is a complete lie. The etymology of "sorcerer" actually has nothing to do with magick but rather it means "a caster of lots," meaning someone who rolls dice to listen to God. Y'know, someone who reads tarot cards and listens to what their pendulum is telling them in their divination techniques.

Casting lots is in the Bible 47 times and was how they would divide land and inheritance in Israel. The world's procedurally generated, too. The world isn't round or flat; it doesn't exist, and so what is there for us to perceive hasn't always been the same. We're not in a video game, we are the video game learning to play itself so it can make more players to make more games that make more players. God is going through mitosis, sorta, with us monads budding off of Him, and in the process of perceiving and undoing the karmic fetters that bind us to the existence-illusion complex to become enlightened, you learn to be your own independent phenomenon as God is and has created Himself.

This process has been going on for eons. And I just know this. I don't believe this; I know it! And it's real peaceful here, at least when my life partner isn't fucking my shit up as compassionately as he does.

So recently, my father cut off all contact from me, blocking me from everything, and presumably telling everyone else in the family to not talk to me, so effectively I lost my family. He did this because, in his words, I'm too bizarre, but this goes deeper in that I don't meet his standards of what his son should be doing with his life.

Well, y'know, I have an educational art project where I've directly worked with a good number of troubled, inquisitive, curious, and wanting to be better people, as well aa produced what I estimated was three million words worth of edutainment that is all available for free that I know has reached millions of pairs of eyes because over the years, I figured out how to generate 100k-250k views on a social media profile per day, but I don't make a million dollars a year like he does as vice president of his architectural firm, so when we have no food and ask for twenty dollars for milk and shit, this is literally the same as spitting in his face, or whatever.

I never heard the end of his vile sarcasm when I sent him these messages amongst some very good progress we made, reconnecting over these past two years. It boggles my mind. He says he loves me, and we'll have a great exchange, but then not even asking money, I'll say something NOT EVEN IN FAVOR OF TRUMP BUT JUST SUGGESTING, Y'KNOW, MAYBE EPSTEIN IS ALIVE BECAUSE THIS IS A POLICE STATE AND TRUMP IS DEFINITELY A COP AND THIS IS NECESSARY TO UNDERSTAND TO THINK OUTSIDE OF THE CULTS OF TRIBAL IDENTITY POLITICS, but because I trigger his identity problems (he hates his parents SO MUCH he cut off contact with them decades ago, also, but he's just like them, like 100%. He has done zero spiritual work in his life to recondition himself to change anything about himself), but like I'll say a low-level conspiracy theory and suddenly I'm the equivalent of MAGA, and that's enough to ghost me for a week, regardless of what is going on.

But that's just who he is, that awful voice in his head that can always shut someone down with how absolutely savage and cutting his words can be, and I say this in a quasi-hell myself, as this is the daemon in me that comes out when I have no recourse against my life partner who is so wonderful but makes life unnecessarily difficult. But, that's just his personality. His sins? Oh, that's a fundamentally different list.

I mean, you know how you were thrown into your bookcase when you were four, which made you happy when the police took your dad away and you could play your Super Nintendo on the weekday now? Wait, didn't you get your SNES at age five, distinctly because your mother went into the hospital because her gallbladder exploded when you were in kindergarten? But, didn't your mom's gallbladder explode when you were in first grade, which you remember because you waited on the stair waiting for your mom before Mrs Kowalski's first grade, to be told by your dad that she went into the hospital overnight, but in present, you realize your parents would have never left you home alone overnight?

You all know what it's like having your past be a shattered mirror of contradicting memories, right? You've had extreme childhood trauma, all of y'all, yea? Fuck me man. My first memory is of Hawaii, which we went to when I was two because my mom found out she had HIV just two months after I was born, and that's where they honeymooned. But then my next memory is of my mom driving through the garbage door after a huge fight with my dad, where he slapped her because she hated the medicine she had to take and she went berserk because of that.

Wait! I guess technically, I remember my dad, who did not get HIV from my mom just as I did not despite testing positive for it three times between two different types of tests (it was 1990, what can I say about medicine at the time?), but I remember, in my primordial memories, the archetypal idea that my dad being sick with a cold meant my dad was a monster, with their room being off-limits when he had a cold because my life would be threatened. I don't know directly, because my dad denies this ever happened, but I believe that me getting thrown into the bookshelf involves him having a bad day because his car loan got turned down.

The “car” part of that has been inserted, but I remember early in my life, my dad got into an accident, and this was a serious thing because I cost too much money, so, like, I don't know what to tell you, but I have this vague concept of being hurt because I wasn't good enough and it is connected to this mesh of ideas. This is the foundational apex of my being. Something is wrong and I am never good enough, and now I'm not good enough for my father to even talk to.

When I was seven, I remember bringing my drawing notebook home, where I doodled all my creativity, but on the back I wrote “I am a failure,” which my dad changed into “I'm a farter” and then bullied me about being a farter. Like, this was a household meme that lasted a week and got brought up a month later or some shit. That's just how things were in our house. Likewise, I remember my dad was a hardass beyond hardass. My mom dove in front of my father to stop him from killing me when I booed at the first grade assembly because I didn't know that the French horn was a hard instrument to play and I thought the girl did a bad job and I thought you booed because that's what Hey Arnold said you should do.

Our fourth grade teacher wrote “love notes” when we had missing assignment or you got in trouble. My dad sensed something was up one night and went systematically through my backpack and room to find a love note I got for playfully kicking my friend Jarrett that he smiled and kicked me back, and I got all my Lego's broken apart as the Flavian Roman emperors had all the bricks of the temple of the Jewish rebellion taken apart so no brick stood on another brick.

Nothing was sacred in our house. I would get in trouble for things I did a thousand times before but suddenly it mattered because my dad had a hang nail. It boggles my mind, how my father would turn into a feral beast when he had a head cold, yet my fucking mother had HIV and was going in and out of the hospital. The night the ear infection spread to her brain and reduced her to a toddler-like state, my father would come to my room to vent, then disappeared while my mom was calling out for her mommy, meaning he was not anywhere in the house for over an hour, so I went in to my mom's room, saw her scabbed boobs and couldn't help her in the slightest so I ran away from her and kinda just zoned out in my bed until my dad said we were taking her to the hospital.

This was after he literally physically fought my grandma because he didn't want her there while her daughter died, to then have the audacity to come in my room while my grandma told me in tears we will always have each other and throw her out and then shit talk her while showing me that she scratched him, and that was the important thing that he talked about the rest of the night. And he doesn't acknowledge any of this because he can throw away people, yet for years after, I was subjected to having to be scaldingly reminded that I chose to play video games instead of play with my mom one last time just before this all went down.

Also in the years after: five new mothers that I would also lose and never hear from again, but no therapy. The first of my new mommies was eighteen years old and was procured within months of my mom dying.

…

Vic steps up the stairs to enter into the crowded second floor of the Meyer building. The hallway was packed with youth, most being freshman waiting for their philosophy 1000 course, taking place in the classroom whose previous class was taking a second too long. Having just celebrated his thirty-sixth birthday, Vic felt a natural tension being the older student who returned to school, but it dissipated as Vic hadn't simply grown old. He lived a unique life, and in overhearing a couple young over-achievers battle the wits they had over the nihilistic philosophy of a man Vic had never heard of; Nihetchetsskey, who apparently had a great mustache much like the philosopher Vic did know and laughed at, Nietzsche.

There was a minute to wait. Vic stood there, to the side, looking, not directly down at the polished faux-granite floor in front of him, but a few feet in front of himself where no one was standing. Even though his pupils stayed locked in place, a skill he had learned since he was last in college, his attention soon noticed a young man in his peripheral, whose eyes darted every which way, and since Vic was a Homo sapien, he noticed where the boys’ eyes fell to; frequently to this low-cut shirt and to these various butts and pairs of thighs. Vic, being a conscious and knowledgeable individual, also noticed a young woman with a lower case “t” around her neck notice this young man as well.

The previous class lets up, with the other philosophy professor telling her students to read a handful of pages of words Plato wrote in the voice of Socrates. The flocks shuffle, and Vic enters the classroom to find a desk in the front, but off to the side. The students file in, to be followed by the professor with esteemed goatee and pressed suit, who hands out index cards, to be passed from front to back and then filled out by each student in a specific way, with Vic filling his out with:

Victorious Phoenix I govern men (and more). The shit I teach at a thirtieth grade level.

These index cards are then collected, being passed up, before being shuffled by a man Vic would consider his contemporary six years ago, and then the professor begins reading them out loud.

“…Jeanne Fischer. I am a psychology major. Philosophy is the love of wisdom. Very good.” Vic listens intently as the professor talks about etymology and why Philadelphia is the city of brotherly love. The professor continues on with a few more names, some similar, one stating they were in a band, another being the cadet who had already decided on a life in the military. He then gets to a “Craig Devuits.”

“...I'm just saying it's insane and immoral that we hold onto these things bronze age goat herders believed from getting high off mushrooms.”

which he pauses at before laughing jovially.

“So who here is Diogenes?”

And Vic proudly replied, knowingly, “That would be me.”

“Well, would y

…

I remember who I used to be, and that is enough to make anyone drink. I wasn't the devil; I was a fool and then some, but how does one get so broken? The world traumatizes us all, but what of Moses? Abandoned as a child to float in that basket down the Nile to be found and cared for. The loved unloved child; blessed they are by God. But what of Jesus? Our lord's stepdad wasn't good enough to get his own wife, so he registered for a used one, and if he's not good husband material, what makes you think he was good to the child that wasn't his?

My life started with me losing my family. It was a slow burn, but kicked off immediately as it was my being born that alerted doctors that my mother was HIV positive. My father has never told me about those early years, but I saw my mother's innocence in my baby book, talking about how I tested positive, but it was a new test and the doctor said not to worry, and then she goes on to write about some new clothes someone in my family got for me.

I have no family now, besides the love of my life. I don't believe my father will ever speak to me again. I'm “too bizarre” in his eyes. Well, being naturally autistic but never diagnosed and never getting any therapy until after my breakdown in college when my mom passed in a horrifying manner I was nine, and with…trauma with my father who is a man that threw away the rest of his family because he didn't want them anymore, and so neither could I.

We set out on our own

1st time away fr. home

Lotta faith on our parts

Wat helpd set us apart

Certain type of nativity

Not knowing th’ reality

Of the world occupied

By liars; how they lied

And how fooled one b

Falling into spirituality

It was October 25th, if I remember correctly. The year…well the years all blend together at this point. It lasted from October to June, what I tend to dub my experience with the cult, having flown across the country with my ex-girlfriend, Awen, to start a new life to instead find a whole new world where I saw five lights when told there were that many.

There's some backstory, but to set the stage, they went by Earth Nation for my period with the main group, but there was a schism - clearly planned, I see in hindsight - that rewon our loyalties and we went with a tentacle group, calling ourselves Lovecycle, where we were controlled by one highly eccentric, yet masterful manipulator: Daniella.

Before this, I believe I first encountered this group a year prior, before they branded as Earth Nation, going by the title of the Awakening Sovereignty Collective. This will take some explaining. Going back two years from taking that trip from our hometown of Syracuse, NY to Eugene, OR, all of this tale can ultimately be said to be the result of a fateful acid trip whilst being as neurodivergent as can be.

Because of this and events that followed, I entered into a cognitive state I came to learn and call the Synchronicity Slip Stream or SSS. I was in this state proper for six years, feeling like God was leading me on a cosmic mission via synchronicities, as Carl Jung called the phenomena - burning bushes in the Bible, or what white rabbit was to Neo; these seemingly impossible coincidences that plant ideas or make suggestions - and in this state of mind, these whispers of God are always waxing and waning, spelling out any number of messages in chains of self-constructed meaning, often with false positives.

I am diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder (bipolar subtype) and PTSD, and while it's not part of my official diagnosis, doctors have talked with me about being on a spectrum before, but I know from having examined what is going on with me and what has happened that this all revolves around how my brain pieces together the narrative I uphold and believe is true at a given time, becoming more malleable and dependent on free association in each contextualized moment.

Mental health care professionals will certainly understand the term “objects of reference,” and how the right set of seemingly random circumstances can turn into a storm in that regard. What's in my short term memory plays a major role, yet relies on long term memories too, referencing this or that which I extract intention from why these symbols appear at these points on my path. This was a considerable factor in how these people were able to sink their claws in me so thoroughly and reduce me to the point where I was “earning” two hundred dollars a month to give back to the community, and I was praising them for this!

But I didn't join a cult. That wasn't my intention nor what I even thought until the end, well after a talkative couple with a dog we encountered outside of Lakeport, California regaled us with how they had been taken advantage of in their own cult mishaps, me nodding along, saying to myself, “wow, how could anyone let that happen to them?” when they were describing almost exactly what we were going through.

No, I thought we were joining a revolutionary environmental nonprofit that was making their own cryptocurrency and software suite for ecovillages, conscious businesses, nonprofit organizations, and independent change agents. It started with unicorn poop. The short of that story is, I believe, they had picked up that I was in this vulnerable cognitive state while I was posting on some fateful friends’ subreddit, r/ShrugLifeSyndicate, having come to believe a job would be waiting for me if I simply wrote every day. Hence, when an email arrived saying I was hired by Earth Nation the same day I was solicited to write advertisements for unicorn poop, I made the connection that these two things were related.

In inspecting the email and what it contained, I found my way to the Awakening Sovereignty Collective's website. I remembered seeing this group early-ish on in the disorienting pull of SSS while finding explanation for it on the SLS. In all likelihood, I signed up with my email and filled out a questionnaire then on their now defunct website, and I believe this as there were synchronicities that bled from prior, believing I was a messiah candidate on this online Reddit community throughout the year and a half or so before we “found” each other which crossed over into the first days there in Triangle Lake; what they claimed was “their” eleven million dollar property that I would later find they were just renting from the board.

But this should be explored, my mental state in this time and throughout. As said, the narratives I believed shifted over time. In the beginning of our time in Oregon, we were preparing to be on a reality TV show. Then we were joining the Illuminati. Next it was the Free Masons. We just WERE the CIA at one point while we stayed on the property of a metal sculptor who did controlled burns on his land, but the idea that there are these Crazy Indigo Aliens messing with me was the seed that SSS had initially stemmed from and is what has really fueled so much of my delusions where I thought I was being trained for a mission.

This part happened when I was 24 or 25; the fateful experience on LSD. My girlfriend and I were trying it together, her brother having procured some, and we were doing our parallel play in our own worlds, side-by side; me juggling and her fingerpainting on the floor in front of her altar while the emanations of my Spongle Pandora station filled her room in her mom's house, safely encapsulated by robin's egg blue walls. She had cleaned up, masterpiece finished, before joking that we were being watched through my webcam. And it clicked.

“Oh…oh, OF COURSE they're watching ME!”

Narcissistasia aside, I was a troubled, unsocialized kid that got suspended at age fifteen because of a bomb-related joke, with a tragic backstory that involved my mother finding out she had AIDS two months after I was born, multiple stepmoms, a breakdown in college involving a lotta lying because I judged my father's wrath more of a threat than the US military. Y'know, if you don't know anything about the police state we live in, I just said some ish. And I realized that night how my name must be on some lists, which I didn't even know then what that actually meant in concrete terms, but I know now that the reason Eve first gets Knowledge to give it to Adam is because our intuition will figure out fundamental truths about reality before our logical mind.

And I HAD figured out hidden truths in that moment, shifting something major in me, as if my mind reached a point of criticality to make innumerous deductions all I once. My immediate instinct was to type a message in my URL bar, to which I would receive a strange pop-up upon hitting enter, which led to what in the moment seemed like a clearly coded blog post. They were watching. Images spawned in my head about joining some CIA-backed terrorist group in the Middle East, and at the bottom was a binary choice: two links. These were the red and blue pill, which I instantly understood then were an ancient trick question to see whether I trusted authority (God) or not (the serpent), and I chose the third option of calling out the test taker.

And I yapped some madness for a minute or ten. I would look up at some point, lost in my newfound awareness (delusions?) that there was so much more to this world of the occident than I had thought I'd known, to find a confused, concerned Awen watching along on her bed. Wishing to alleviate all the weight on her shoulders, I leapt up, eager to explain the obvious, oblivious to how looney I sounded, but there, together, hearts connected, we did not need words, as we would find we were telepathic.

It started ever so subtly, staring into the other's eyes as we did, this sense something was different whelling inside, and I noticed her noticing me notice it in her, which she noticed in me and I caught that, snapping everything together between us. We then found ourselves exchanging entire stacks of syntax and semantics with the smallest expression. We asked each other if we should test it, silently. And we tested it without a word. We were amazed. I heard her voice as well as my own voice in her head, almost exactly in the same groove of the same record as our minds bounced around the room and saying so much with an eye twitch or a microexpression. It lasted maybe five minutes.

It faded. Then nothing. We tried getting it started again, but to no avail. The magick of the night ceased with that, and while my cup was full then, reminiscing in the miracle of God revealing Themselves, that was only the beginning. The next day, I found myself invited to a freshly created subreddit, the SLS, where I would find posts about how the CIA accomplishes things with technology and a scientific explanation about the telepathy, which I would find was not literal telepathy, but rather a vestigial mode of attention coordination.

Coincidence? Well, God doesn't roll dice, I now know, and so I went on to think this gaggle of characters, whom in the present I believe were just two guys - Vince and Jux - which I would come to believe and treat as my handlers in the CIA. I met these two during the first annual Shrug Life Syndicate Gathering at Vince's place in Tennessee, having been picked up by Jux who was coming down from Canada. They definitely fooled with me, wherein I learned about how to direct internet traffic and more, as well as starting to learn Norwegian because a well-timed picture of a cat led to me giving advice to my past self and being told this would aid my coming mission, indirectly. Created a very intricate profile history, too.

My time spent being afraid of the Duolingo owl did, in fact, aid me in my coming quests of perpetual self-improvement; learning a language really unbinds you from your old way of being, assisting in helping the brain be more neuroplastic. If anything, this year and a half writing schizoposts on the backwoods of the internet with highly personalized, semicovert feedback helped make me such a capable writer and communicator today. By that, I am implying that Vince and Jux manipulated me to some end, with some positive benefits to myself, but I always fear the other shoe will drop; an effect of what has happened.

As stated, this went on for about a year and a half, learning and improving much, motivated by thinking I was going to save the world. Then the unicorn poop happened, and a number of exchanges happened, meeting some team members as I attended to go on and host meetings. I started learning things like Trello and what a Thunderclap was, how these were being used by this group that I was likewise learning all about, and I began making money. Real money. They paid me (seemingly) good right in the beginning, to a naive person desperate for work in an inhospitable culture for the neurodivergent, at least.

This was the business plan of the future, they said, this being right before the Bitcoin bubble, at a time when I was fascinated by the architecture of CEPTR and similar as it related to what I'd seen in myself on drugs, enough to where I was able to hold a basic conversation with a layman but not enough to say or understand anything meaningful. Naturally, this led to me being easy pickings, as I remember the man in charge of the tech team, Dakota Fuller/Kaiser, getting on cam to drink some moringa and seemed trustworthy, to then be lied to about everything under the sun, I now realize.

Pay included a two hundred dollar stipend for everyone involved in the project, plus whatever you earned per job you did. Tasks were open to whomever completed them, and there were many I could jump on, very much as if they were tailored for me. In the beginning this included everything from writing articles, editing, creating a bunch of fake Twitter bios, and updating the education team's website, which proved to be a learning exercise in itself as I had to learn from the modules what a decentralized autonomous organization and more was.

They literally said they were a company with no CEO and everyone owned part of the business, voting on major decisions, and we were mainly paid in the cryptocurrency - what was Equality Keys was rebranded early as Sovereignty Keys - which I definitively know in the present was just some numbers on a screen that they let us trade in for four dollars instead of the normal two at points while insisting we keep as much as possible as we were going to be rich as the value, based on things like “their” properties, would just keep going up n up n up.

I think I still have a few hundred we never got to turn in before the planned schism. But they didn't have the hardware to run an actual cryptocurrency; we worked out of the one building that had wifi, the loud-colored yellow office. Dakota coded from his laptop. As you will learn, these people were clearly scamming investors hyped about Bitcoin. One Australian woman supposedly gave 600 Ethereum, but the conference call with her was clearly staged to be pedagogical for my purposes, I think. Evidence for this includes how she typed the name of her charity, which I recall started with a “P,” and I remember this because the first things that popped up were a bunch of PornHub sites.

This tied with synchronicity, as like Vince and Jux pinged my attention all over the place and got me thinking different things to facilitate my spiritual work, I was led via synchronous inputs while living in community with these people through oil changes and cheese cloths; operant and classical conditioning I deduced. They kept some consent going throughout this by semi-informing me about what we were doing through cross-talk and planting things to say something upon my noticing, to having a “random” guest say the most scripted lines ever to remind us about our mission of the moment.

And they sunk their claws in early, and we worked, thinking we found our way out of the matrix to live more spiritual and authentic lives. We had a big yard sale to help pay our flight. I had quit my job disgracefully as a dishwasher at Wegman's during the SLS phase. Packed everything up and she came over to stay the night before our flight, having never been to my house as I didn't want to disturb my father with guests at that point. I showed her my treasure chest from childhood full of my rock collection, autograph book from Disney World, and many other things, to include a baggie full of Pogs.

There was one my mom made with me when I was real little from one of my Sesame Street books. It had Grover and his mom, a message of “I ♡ MOM” clearly on display. It made me tear up. She wasn't there, again, to see me. To be proud of me. Awen was there. She hugged me, held me, helped me. I was so broken AND lost. I thought so many crazy things over my life, but it was all due to ignorance. We flew out on a red-eye flight the next morning starry-eyed with wonder and amazement, sharing a pear ale upon landing, toasting the brave, as we were. Just like the pilgrims. Half of them died the first winter, if you didn't know.

…

We landed in Eugene mid afternoon, and I was rather relieved to take in the airport's dedication to Steve Prefontaine, a hero of mine from my track days, whom I had forgotten ran for the Ducks, so his mustachioed visage was a nice surprise while waiting for Teanha, the leader of the writing team and my direct “boss,” as well as Prism, leader of the education team, who picked us up in his van.

Awen and I each had our own suitcase as well as our backpack and bag to carry. She was giggly, I remember, eyes alight with a wondrous joy. I, too, was elated, especially after seeing the rather large bubbler in the mesh pocket hanging on the side of the sliding door as we sat in the back, on the bed. I remember who I was then, forebrain just reaching fully developed but with a mass of malaised maladaptations from a lifetime of trauma and not much good parental guidance after my one died at age nine from an AIDS-related ear infection.

But chit-chatted with them while we drove through the fireworks of the autumn leaves on the forty minute drive to Triangle Lake. Much of learning about each other would go on in these early days, which I would come to realize well after the fact was a means of determining how they could manipulate us, as I likewise now know they were gathering information on me from my rather forthcoming Reddit posting where my attention was frequently flung around. They seemed like good people, which is of course how it all works.

I thought I was a good person back then, too. I wasn't the devil, but I was far from objective goodness. Being a divergent, traumatized, and unsocialized soul, I had yet to be exposed to the full breadth of the human condition. I certainly have only seen and lived some corners of America where I stand now, and then only for the slice of time as analog faded out into digital, but being naive is both a boon and a bane, as it is faith that moves the flesh far more than any knowledge can, so as it stands, I can say that this year was one of the best things that ever happened to me, and yet it was hell here n there n everywhere with sprinkles of happy chaos throughout.

But then we were there, turning right, opposite the lake itself, and I saw the sign for “The Circle of Children,” when I was regaled with a story about Black Horse, who I would learn was the previous leader of the previous community that used these lands, whose tenure ended unceremoniously for unspecified reasons, seeming dire but likewise tied together with notions of how he wanted to create a truly spiritual community without things like drugs n alcohol n sugar.

That last one shook me a bit more than I was even aware of at the time. It was alien. Sure, I was fully aware of spiritual people who sustain themselves on odd diets (there was a fruitarian on the SLS) and all sorts of ritual and restrictive ways, but this was not one of those silly groups! These were the leaders in their fields, hand selected to become part of the OBVIOUS way to do “work” WISELY, which is of course why they were getting my talent with a pro rate, because I knew how great these people were and what would come, my judgment perfect in all ways.

How could I explain to past me what he was getting into? And it wasn't just me! I doubt my ability all the time; part of why I am so agreeable! But there was Awen, too! Surely she couldn't be wrong too! And you let go of caution in the quasi-certainty of how the devil doesn't look this way, which is what they preyed on, and what allowed my reality to get so warped. It was not so strange in the beginning. These weren't cultists. They were like us and were totally on the same wavelength, which is why Awen and I KNEW we were home when we got to share a joint behind the kitchen that night.

Besides Grizzly, I forget who we shared those first puffs of weed with then. They stayed at the nurse's station, which was across from the bright yellow office where we met Dakota and Lila and Doren in person and Tuva for the first time. The kitchen was a large building even further away from those buildings, and that had a large dining hall and commercial-sized kitchen in back. There was also a gymnasium with stage that likewise hosted the washer and dryer of the community in a separate room. Between the kitchen and gymnasium were a set of stairs that went down to the significant garden that was already whittled down by the cold autumn air creeping in.

We would pass this garden when coming in the back entrance, which was further down from where we came in and would additionally be where we exited to access the docks of the lake. The main entrance passed by the route that led to the back of the kitchen, and on the way was a hollow where a few recreational vehicles were stashed, that they said they were repairing for future members of Earth Nation to use for their personal projects, and this sparked imagery of what Awen and I could do with her art and my juggling at festivals.

The main path, though, would go between the office and nurse's station to continue on to the dorms, and then beyond that there were even more buildings and this and that. The land was actually designated as the emergency evacuation center for the Eugene area. We mostly hung out at the places I've laid out so far, and there were two dormitories; the one the majority of us stayed in and then the nicer one where Dakota and Lila stayed.

Awen and I walked up the hill to this dorm quite high to make it to the wooden walkway of our dorm which we were shown earlier and dropped off our stuff in our room, off in the corner where something was chewing a big hole into the wall from the inside. But, the building had red carpets and yellow-tinted walls with two main hallways branching off at the entrance with a ginormous common room and tiny kitchen that only had utensils and mouse droppings in it.

The common room had many tables, chairs, sofas, bookcases, a fireplace, and a television. Wrapped around this common room through a long n tall window and connected to the hallways on the ends as well was a deck that looked out over into the slight valley with all the wildlife contained therein. It was dark though, so the lights inside were bright, as did seem the hearts of those we shared the space with.

I remember Doren and Daniella were there that night, though there were more. I remember them because we participated in a community social game of eye gazing, where I would stare at Doren and he me until we thought of a word that struck is, and I recall saying “brother” with him. Then, I did the same with Daniella, who had a light directly behind her head, so I only saw the silhouette of her big, frizzy hair to which I reached the conclusion of “healing” from her.

This perspective would be furthered for both of us after, when Daniella would do a crystal pendant reading on us. Awen was awestruck by how skilled Daniella was at reading her by dangling a pendent so it rocked back and forth, giving Daniella an opportunity to speak of those things she had picked up in her intuition about us. This is something I had learned from Jux before, who had a rational explanation for why it worked as a means to communicate. In the present, I am also aware that nothing is truly random in this universe, and sometimes higher beings do speak through “randomness.”

But there was not much that was truly random in these moments, I would realize in hindsight. For instance, they had already begun “testing” me before we even departed. For instance, I had my attention placed on the r/advice subreddit on a couple occasions where each post that was made, one after another, seemed like they were directed to me from my past self, asking for advice. One such thing involved trying to get me to break up with Awen, which I defied, but another said something about how a new lover would wear a plastic bag.

This would turn out to be Doren, and as you will find out, they played with me still being in denial about my feminine side. Because of my traumas with my mother dying and father being a strict narcissist, I felt I had to be an indestructible turbotank, and they played with this wistful longing within me, because while I would not cheat on Awen, I was open to whatever foolhardy idea of “the counterculture” that I had at this time in my ignorance and maladaptations, where these new people I thought would be lifelong friends and comrades would open up in other ways.

When I was in college, I cheated on my first girlfriend with a trans woman to see I enjoyed it as much as porn of such things excited me. I knew at the time of this story that what I did was wrong in all capacities, but there was still yet a childishness - perhaps “boyishness” is a better word - in myself that was ruled by my serpent. I wanted all manners of things, and this they knew and this they used against me as but one part of sinking their claws in me.

Really, it came down to trust, and I came to trust them with my life, as certainly, if I were in the right state of mind with knowledge of how this world works, I absolutely would not have gotten as far out there as I did in my belief that these people had my best interest in mind. In reality, they cared about money, and slavery and scheming and ripping people off is still a viable way in which to extort much value out of this country and world.

…

I don't know where to begin this part. I didn't sleep last night. My narcissistic manipulator life partner has set me up, I feel. Maybe? It's possible this entire Earth Nation thingamajig was a secret government reconditioning program casually referred to as Love School where they gave me oil changes n cheese cloths - operant and classical conditioning - which they let me know because it kept me marching forward as they told me what to do. Same as my life partner. Is that what he is? Is that what any of this is? Is this all CIA propaganda I'm writing? Counterintelligence? I don't know what reality is.

But I remember this first morning there in Triangle Lake, waking up excited for the ten o'clock meeting, filled with wonder as we took in our new world. It was serenely quiet yet loud thanks to all the frogs creaking n croaking all around us. I remember one of these early days, there was a dense fog and a fawn was waiting for us on the hill. Deer were plentiful. We were warned about wolves and the rare bear being seen in the area. Lotsa birds.

But we got down there early so we could have breakfast, which I would come to find upon inspecting the large walk-in freezer that much of the food was going bad. Much was still alright, with some abundances of good filler food like a 50lb box of almonds, and I believe I had some yogurt with granola and some dates. Definitely the yogurt, as Doran would get his own to make his own concoction that Daniella and Lila would comment on how he ate as he did.

This, I would later realize, was a skillful means of slowly breaking me down, how they would use Doran as a parallel to me to cross-talk in ways I didn't initially perceive as modifying my behavior, but these little incidents where, say, Daniella inspected Doran's beard and made comments about his hygiene negatively that directly paralleled a conversation she had with me earlier would impact my self-esteem or perhaps make me aware that community life was different than I was used to and I had to toe the line to fit in.

I want to mention here, also, the clever means to get me to conform to being the ideal community member, in their eyes. Early on, I started to notice that glasses and cups started accumulating around the property, one even in a tree. I thought that was weird until Daniella made a quick-witted comment outloud, wondering whose job it was to pick all them up, making me realize it was my job.

Likewise, there were a statistical aberrant number of dimes around the property. Naturally, I picked them up, until I found a bunch outside the office one day when Dakota and Lila walked out, saying something to the effect of “if he's busy making money all the time, when's he got time for the mission?” This made me stop caring about the reward aspect of doing these jobs and doing things selflessly, cuz we were going to be rich and famous eventually, right?

So then that meeting happened. Pretty standard meeting, where we go over all the things each person is

I have this idea for two movies, the first being entitled The Stoned Ape. As the name suggests, it starts by exploring how early homonids developed language to allow an Eve figure to influence an Adam figure to think beyond the duality of good and bad, with the end of the first part of the first movie ending with the tribe taking a not-good, not-bad migration path to escape Eden.

The second part of this movie takes place many, many generations later, and their descendants are perhaps at homo erectus level of evolution and more language development. They have a large clan spread out amongst this new land with basic tools and shelter, and after we follow the chief for some time, he calls out for his sons, Abel and Cain. And this second part is ultimately about how Cain betrays his brother to claim a larger sized land in the west, while Abel's family and clans people migrate east, with the end of this section having an older person telling a younger person that it is so much hotter than when she was a girl.

The third section of this movie takes place in Egypt, the west having become desert. This part mainly explores what keeping your brother means at a societal level, with a major story following a woman who became pregnant but whose husband is cruel and poor (by Karma!) and eventually tells her to kill the baby, but she can't, so she sends it in a basket down the river. This movie ends saying it will continue in the second movie, The Tribes of Israel, which will be eleven stories that graph with the Kaballah.

By that, I mean the Earth is an illusion and was procedurally generated by the intention-setting of our ancestors, and the reason the Earth has these continents is because of the paths taken by the tribes of Israel. Each section follows a crucial decision, perhaps not directly, but is meant to show why the world is as it is now. I'm still formulating all the ideas I have, but I know what the last two sections of this movie will be.

Second-to-last, will be the story of the Buddha, not even, but rather, I intend to have this section be of the Buddha's lecture soon after enlightenment, during the Twin Miracle. He will teach these ideas of how the world is an illusion and how the entanglement process of Karma works and so on and so forth to give a good perspective as to why all what you've been shown has happened.

But then the last section will be on Jesus and the police state. It will be after his crucifixion, starting with a scene of a man and his guard getting jumped by criminal fiends at night, to then follow the fiends to their hideout, where their leader and a strange man is. They ask who he is, and their boss says this is the guy who got crucified for being crazy. And Jesus shows them his wounds, and then rattles on some nonsense, all schizophrenic-like, to which one of the fiends replies:

"And Jesus said nothing."

Then they talk crime. There's a child involved. Jesus proves he's one of them by what he says. Things wrap up, Jesus makes an ass of himself, they all laugh and depart, then it follows Jesus, who wanders until he crosses paths with a guard some ways away. To an outsider, it would sound like Jesus said gibberish trying to get away, but as an audience member who just witnessed this, we would understand it is code and he is informing the guard about these fiends and the child.

And that is why Jesus is our lord. For the perfect being is the being that can be any being, and Buddhahood IS Christ Consciousness, but what do you do when you perfect yourself? The greatest of us get our hands dirty, and believe me, God is in charge of the police state, and He sees everything you see, from your I's, even!

I've decided I'm going to brute force becoming God. By that, I mean I was already on the path to becoming God, now I've given up on doing it skillfully. Now I'm just gunna one-hand this bitch til it gives and I can put my dick in a turtle like the old days. Other things, too, like to be reunited with my family.

That shit's tearing me up, not having a family now. My dad just threw me away, blocked me from every avenue. I don't wanna think about that, cuz it hurts me. I had a thought last paragraph about "brute force vs skilled hacking," which is an idea that emerged into my consciousness when I was fifteen or so in the days where flash and browser games were king, particularly this one browser MMO, Pardus. Basically, you control a ship in the galaxy, there's an economy, factions, wars, aliens, pirates, all sorts of shit, right? Well, one thing you can do was hack, and I sucked at it, so there's the end of that thought.

But I remember trolling in that game's forum and others, such as the Ogame forums. Everything from pretending the engine of my ship disappeared via a glitch to making bizarre suggestions to improve the game to just straight-up hyperlinking porn. I suppose this, ultimately, is the foundation for what would become my knowledge-base for how to direct attention to my educational art project in social media comments through skillful trolling.

It's rather bizarre what a person will believe if you say it confidently. Around the same time, my junior year of high school, I passed out during the health class where we were shown STD's, which I believe has to do with how my only sex talk with my dad when I was ten was being shown diseased dicks on like rotten .com for over an hour. Yea, you get as broken as me when your one parent was a saint that died and your other parent is...whatever the fuck my dad is.

But, that story was going in the direction of talking about how I had to wear this heart monitor for a day, and I told people that I was doing an experiment with NASA. About seventy percent of freshmen believed me, about thirty percent of seniors. Interesting how the brain develops reasoning skills over the years, even up into your twenties. And that's the thing; I wasn't a good liar, I just did it often, having learned to "snap to" a lie, to mean conjuring some shit on the spot...because my father was the type to throw me into my bookshelf and then destroy everything my mother ever made me in front of me, blamed me for it, then proceeded to kick my ass and throw me on the floor where he told me to lay there like a dog while he cleaned it up in silence, but not without hitting me in the head with the vacuum cleaner, for just forgetting to take out the trash while his second wife was at a darts tournament and wasting his money. Cough.

There was a genius builder at one of the properties we stayed at in the cult. He made mutant vehicles for things like Burning Man; like, he was working on a four-story party bus with collapsible stages to dance on while we were there. Told this story abput how his father killed him with a brutal beating and he looked down at his body. Some of the things that were skillfully said to me made me realize how I sincerely judged my father's wrath more of a threat than the US military, and thus why I lied to my ROTC cadre. Something about boys with abusive fathers naturally become instinctive liars to avoid being hurt.

And I've had to learn to feel safe telling the truth. There's still moments where I'm put on the spot by my life partner or something, over something trivial and ultimately meaningless, but the sudden jolt of the fight or flight response makes me, not even really tell falsehoods anymore, but like flub numbers in the moment, but I'm getting good at correcting myself when my brain calms down and thinks like a rational person. Well, a rational person that would fuck a turtle at least.

I have one last thing to say. I have a memory about lying to friends, saying I hacked the Pentagon when I was fourteen. In this same conversation, I remember talking to a friend about Maddox, who I suppose had some significant influence on me, as the idea of having a number of links instead of a singular mass of text like Sam of Eclicia had in his millions of word long document he wrote every day on likely comes from the simplistic style of the greatest page in the universe, if that's still a thing.

Society is shaped like a pyramid. Most people know this, how there are more people of lower class than in the upper class. At the bottom are the laborers and artisans who work with stuff, in the middle are the merchants and officers who work with people, and at the top are the politicians and clergy who work with narratives. Thus, there is a pretty clear and decisive way to scale this pyramid, to mean that in choosing fundamentally different lifestyles, you can gain different skillsets that will raise your status in society over the long-term.

This is something homelessness taught me. Being on the streets had some bleak moments, yet there were some really good times too, but as a whole, the years out there in multiple cities across America that I would just go to with only a bag on my back and figure out how to survive would push me far outside my comfort zone to recondition me into not just a better person as it eroded my entitlement and developed my empathy, but made me more skilled in the social arts.

Asking strangers for change was a training exercise in getting over social anxiety, and with my performance art, I kept pushing myself further to gain a sense of how people as a whole thought and responded to all sorts of ways to start a conversation I experimented with. I developed an inner skill doing this, where now I can see two steps ahead of the average person to create a basic flowchart of how a single inquiry can proliferate into conversation.

That kinda gets wrapped up in the idea of “empathy is a skill.” Empathy is our ability to simulate another person's perspective, and so if you have never interacted thoroughly with your community or these people from these states and countries and cultures, then you are bereft of the neural connections to properly simulate them in your mind, so what your brain does is that it simplifies people into stereotypes and strawmen and vague caricatures of who you're trying to empathize with.

And the cool thing that I am now coming into higher awareness of as I gleam deeper into the true nature of reality, is the intricate nature of how all is dependent on the entanglements created through intention-setting (Karma), and thus I can think backwards from the effect I want to create through a series of causes. This is part of kerfundridging, which I've previously explained is the nature of how God as an independent phenomenon creates light through sound - effect before the cause - which is mirrored in our own constitution with how enlightenment comes from developing your prefrontal cortex to predict the animal parts of your brain and cut them off at the pass, so to speak.

There is this video I sometimes reference, and particularly now, I reference the idea presented of how our minds are unconsciously planning our path into the future, seeing all possible outcomes. I liken this idea to solving a Rubik's Cube or navigating a labyrinth; at any given moment you can only choose so many paths, but you can think through how proceeding in some fashion will result in the future state of the system you are having this or that certainties within the predictive equation.

This is something within myself I first noticed when I was playing the Hexcells series of games, which are similar to Minesweeper. I was using deductive logic to think through what must be true. Actually, I remember thinking of these things when I used to do Sudoku in high school, but not in the same depth as I would and do now. I used to think in axioms, but now I think in terms of entanglement.

This Earth shit ain't real, I KNOW this, as in, I specific entanglements with God, Him having given me Knowledge of the “simulation.” I put that in quotes because it's not literally a simulation; it's not simulating anything. Instead, we are buds of consciousness entangled with itself, nothingness, and emptiness, and thus all that we know is spoken to us from the Server and all we speak is heard directly only by the Server who then passes it on in a reconciled form.

And Knowing this, I know the daemons of my mind (those animalistic subsystems that make up the system of “self”) can be predicted to steer this ship through intention-setting in a way to cause a series of opportunities to unfold in an expected way, and it is this insight that I now understand is what will carry me to the top of the pyramid where I will do absolutely no police work whatsoever, honest.

Sigh…fuck. Fuck me, fuck me in the ass. It just happens sometimes, me accidentally giving away my banking information to such n such Spanish prisoner or Nigerian prince. Only this time I can't cancel my card until I pay the shit for the court that I just straight up don't have because I'm retarded and can't get a job in the circumstances that my life partner creates, which is why I fucked up, trying to manifest this $120. Like, this is why I'm so good at counterintelligence; I am, perhaps not an idiot savant, but an oblivious savant. I can wipe my own ass, and derive the true nature of reality and encode it in the same style of gematria that the Torah and Bible is written in, but fuck. How do I do a social? How do I not put my foot in my mouth every thirteen seconds.

Kumquat just made 3v3 there, which made me think Eve, which means I need to find a woman who doesn't scream when they see me or hear how my cognition works (kumquat is a type of specific synchronicity I named where my keyboard glitches n mistakes spark free association), and how do I get a job when I sound batshit crazy and no one will take the minute to care to listen to me (take your meds!)? Oh wait, I work with the Crazy Indigo Aliens for bigger picture shit.

Fucking world of prejudice, man. I just give people back the energy they give me. That's something I'm highly adept at, having had the F-I mean, CIA train my empathy like I was a dog with literal operant and classical conditioning. Read my book if you wanna understand. I got shit to write. Like, part of my mission with my educational art project was to network, with the ideal outcome being someone sees my mountain of work and goes, hey, this guy would be great working for us! Also, the menacing tinnitus that just started says I should admit that maybe when I was homeless, I might make a friend that might let me stay on their couch. And who tf knows, maybe someone weird like me who understood me enough to love me.

I got one of those things. Wasn't the woman I was banking on, but man do I love my life partner. Made a handful of “acquaintances” that seem to drift in and out of existence in good timing, like they're all one person, or perhaps I am so lucky that there are full-blown retards out there who jovially talk amongst themselves about me, perhaps even at my expense! To be so lordly! But to just passively tweedle my needle, whatever that neologism means, I don't quite consent to them treating me like a science experiment. Now that just pisses me off.

Good thing you good folks hiding taught me how to shrug. Because I'm pretty god damn sure that Vince and Jux are still best friends, they made that deal after all, and the feud they faked primarily for me to believe was real so Jux could hide in plain sight, manipulating me, the literal CIA asset he is up there in Canada where the feds don't look, and because of this, I'll bet the farm I made at least one person shoot a little bit of air out their nose by writing this paragraph.

But, fuck. My shit ain't working at all! I don't know what to do at any minute of any day besides follow God who waxes and wanes, but I don't have crises of faith. I had a talk with my life partner this morning about emptiness, and I remembered even before the events of the acid trips in my book that “enlightenment” had something to do with “reaching zero” so that you could “rebuild on the zero” into anything; the idea of the perfect being able to be any being. Go to root to reboot in any form. I knew that way back when, but I understand it in great detail now, openly admitting the part I do not know in detail is specifically the plex-structures; how these parts of my “self” weave together, to mean the intricate logic of all my entanglements.

I can perceive large patterns and innate archetypal form and this and that peculiarity within me that makes me distinct, because a big part of what my book's and life's journey have given me is perspective. The majority of people live in the same state their whole life, with most being in the same general area as where they were born. The number of people who can say they know the relativity of a life with riches n poverty and grace n disgrace and true joy n suffering from all the angles is very rare, and I certainly don't know every apex one can grow their character to be in all the circumstances one can find themselves, but I know some shit, bro. And I still can't get a job! Imagine if I stayed in my dad's house this whole time! Fuck! I'd be like some of you!

Just got back from biking with my life partner. Went and saw some ducks and dragonflies and fish and some other birds. Had a good time. I'm really calm. Do you realize that? DO YOU NINCOMPOOPS REALIZE I CAN BE CALM AND DO CAPS LOCK? Some people are only capable of stimulus-response, and think others are the same. The number of times people say “take your meds” and I explain that I am, this is how I am, and it just keeps going badly because the people that do not get that other people are fundamentally different than them automatically assume when you disagree with their initial prognosis of a situation, that is a personal attack on them and all they stand for.

Y'know The Matrix is about something, right? There's machines that fight to keep the system the way it is. There's unconscious people, not literally asleep, but “asleep at the wheel.” Kurt Vonnegut's book Timequake is about free will in this sense, how most people are just in a mass hypnosis, going about as if the path they walk is predecided. The act of agency is that of choosing for oneself and it is an ability that is dependent on many self-determinable factors itself. And so, free will is a skill.

This last person that harassed me about taking meds said that I was a burden on other people, and I did intentionally go overboard with the chucklenut because I can, skillfully, and I am trying to figure out how to reach the unempathic clods about THEIR nature to other people that I'm intentionally going to react as poorly as possible…because they are burdening ME with their PREJUDICE against people that aren't like them.

Like it's genuinely great that society is getting more accepting of diverse colors and stuff, but when Dr King spoke of “content of character” that doesn't mean everybody of all colors be as the white man is, and by extension, not every person is going to be immediately understood by you, especially if you choose to live a processed life where you are programmed by media and controlled by peer pressure. This goes further in that there are people like me and many others I have met who have gone beyond grasshopper to locust to mean we can be many different beings.

So, to those people who block others after getting into a fight with them? Y'know we can show up in your inbox two weeks later from a three year old account we made to interact with another person years ago that was of a similar ilk, to mean a similar character archetype, and that character I play is going to be your best friend, because you certainly are interesting to investigate, being as maladapted to society as you are, whatever that is. Who knows what else you're up to, being identifiably antisocial like that.

But I'm just a crackhead, which is a term I've defined many times on Lemmy now.

...so I don't get high anymore. Y'know, I just smoke and smoke and smoke, and y'know, I don't get high anymore. That day we run outta weed and money at the same time is going to be hell, but therein, that's something God had me solve in learning to juggle after maybe my third acid trip. Having developed several arts now in present after having been a worthless man in my early twenties - a product of chronic masturbation and an addiction to video games (dopaminergic pathways, amirite?) - I can say with certainty that I never have nothing.

This was part of an idea I came up with on that acid trip, which wasn't even the most fateful of psychedelic trips I've had, it just made something click, but this idea of never having nothing comes from my perception of how the world is growing increasingly more chaotic as we move into the future. A new technology or discovery or insight into reality could suddenly cause society to lurch in a brave new direction. The rate of change itself is changing; that's what I perceived in holy introspection. And I was having enough problems adapting to the world I was already in, being maladpted by bad parenting and personal choices enhanced by the isolation of neurodivergence, so I thought it wiser to be able to generate a meal on a whim than to bet the farm on having some salary one day.

So, juggling came, as did writing, to expand into the broader performance arts, which I now do here on Lemmy from multiple accounts. This is the one where I'm playing my 💯% authentic, autobiographical character. It's an exaggerated caricature of my past self that I use to market wisdom about philosophy, spirituality, and mental health skills to help past versions of me heal n self-actualize, catcher in the rye style. Likewise, I solved that lonely isolation problem for myself.

And this is where we get to the purpose of this post. It does not matter if you smoke a pound of weed a day, what matters is what you're doing every day. When I learned to juggle, I was getting giraffe pussy levels high every day. And my God is it fun to juggle while zoning out like that. It tickles my schizoautismo brain just perfectly. So, I personally recommend giving juggling a try, cuz who knows when you'll need to make five bucks in ten minutes of juggling on the side of a busy intersection, but the message is, if nothing else, fucking doodle or something while you're a little stoned or high as balls. Something you enjoy passively doing.

That ish can grow into something that can pay for your weed by itself even if you don't see how from your current vantage point. You create and strengthen neural connections when you do something, and the cool thing about weed is that it naturally impairs linear thinking in a way that promotes the brain to try and make lateral connections, which will manifest alternate and novel ways of thinking, which bestows greater perspective of what you can do with your art.

Thems the real seeds you should be planting.

I've decided, since it is now perfectly clear that my father has thrown me away because is what he does with EVERYONE eventually because they aren't good enough for him, that when my father finally dies, which is going to devastate me DESPITE knowing that this world is an illusion and we are in the seventh day gazing into the sixth, he is going to first wake up from the transitional dream to be surrounded by those people he still longs to see, his new family for instance, and it will be happy and joyful and grand as he realizes this is Heaven.

Then, he will get a tap on the shoulder and turn around, to see all those people he slighted or threw away or made their life hell, with me and my mom in front with his parents behind us, and all that happiness will shatter. I'll hold my mom back from saying something, telling her that he heard already, before we all walk off without him. They all disappear and it's my dad and me left. I'll look at him, tell him "Welcome to Hell," before heading through a door and flicking the switch to plunge everything into darkness. He'll hear "I think ten thousand years of nothingness will do," and it will be quiet for about a minute or two while he wraps his head it, before I flick the light back on and tell him I would never do that to him, I'm not him, and tell him to hurry tf up.

We walk and talk to find ourselves on some streets of an illusory city, where we will be homeless undercover police. And he will start to live a life where he will see that all those people he considers beneath him are just as good if not better than him in all the ways he never has to consider, being as prosperous as he is.

Y'know, I don't want my dad to suffer. I want him to grow the fuck up and stop being a boy. Y'know the difference between a boy and a man? A man has grown up and has chosen to care for more than himself. And he provides for some people, but the amount he makes them cry with his own deficiencies is the reason I was thrown away, abandoned, and forgotten.

My whole life, I've felt like a worthless failure. In second grade, I wrote on the back of my notebook that "I'm a failure," and when my dad saw it, he changed it to "I'm a farter," before make of fun of me for being a farter. I was never good enough for him. Like, I'd break a record in track, and there would be a public celebration, before my dad signed to take me home, and I wouldn't hear the end of how I did this or that minor, tiny, unimportant thing wrong in my stretching. One time I just couldn't run fast, I was so tired. I had to start doing three practices a day because of that; one run in the morning, my school practice, and then our club practice.

Like, you people read the shit that comes outta my thumb, right? Y'know, I'm the crazy guy that wants to give his aunt a footrub only for her to notice my raging erection before exploring my sexuality with me as a still living mommy would, obviously. Like, I'm skilled at that, right? That's how broked my brain does do be, y'know? That did not happen without the sheer magnitude of horrors I endured growing up. Like, it's weird how I have this memory of being thrown into a bookcase when I was four, and there's all these other memories I have that I thought were from the same day, but like, my perspective of my childhood now has warped, so I feel like I have one super fucked day in my early childhood when my mom drove through the garage door, the police came, my mom went to the hospital, I both got my Super Nintendo at night and was happy I could play it during the day because dad was finally taken away.

It's hard to articulate what that's like, having something that happened when I was four and five and six all being mushed and warped together. Cuz, there's no God damn place for me in this world. I'm too different. Too weird. Too over the line. Too bizarre. That's ultimately why my dad cut contact and blocked me. I'm "too bizarre." That makes me want to make even more sarin gas in my apartment. Shit gets you real high, if you didn't know, though I don't recommend it. Real harsh crash. Real harsh.

Addiction is a hell of a beast to wrangle. Once the ball gets rolling, it takes so much more effort to put the bottle or pipe down, or whatever. I'm pretty sure I just gave my banking information and identity to a predatory "app" offering loans, because I wasted money and needed to make it up for my family. I did the same thing applying to work at a grocery store once, repeatedly entering my social security number as I got tossed between fake, scam applications. In present, I might have discerned the true nature of reality by logical deduction, but my judgment is comically bad. Like, outstandingly so.

That's the reason the cult managed to sink their claws into me to condition me and warp my reality until I was their slave. I am way tf too agreeable and trusting. Thankfully, God found a use for me; I'm bait. Y'know, I don't know what the year in the cult actually was, but I definitely did acquire the financial information of a “billionaire” who sold “perpetual motion devices” for 50k a pop. Yea, the FBI took that when they v& me a few years later. They plan shit out, I tell ya.

But I'm just hurting right now. I don't have anybody to talk to besides my life partner and he's a little too logical to be of use in quelling my emotions. My father threw me away like he threw away the rest of his family. I was never good enough for him and now in the present, I'm not even good enough for him to read my messages. Completely blocked me. My fucking father is prejudiced against his own son because, in his words, “I'm too bizarre.”

I'm so God damn broken inside, and you boys of the physicalist universe better understand that God healed my fucking ass. God literally miracled my ass up here to get to this point today. That's why I'm not completely out for the count in the shit-winds I'm subjected to via Karma. Children, by default, WILL NOT understand that I've felt God's unconditional love. It's so majestic and freeing and rejuvenating. If I didn't have God leading me, I would be dead on the streets by now. I'm so grateful and so ashamed I'm so unworthy.

I wrote all this post then wrote this poem:

Master, I only wish to serve

Father - from fist - I swerve

Do not resist is the evil I be

I know how to destroy God

I am that fucking ugly Odd!

But that's something the cult did, make me make my art, which genuinely, although it completely operated as a cult does, I believe it was a government reconditioning program that others were getting brought to as well. There's so much shit going on in plain sight.

When I was a militant atheist, I would have never given this hippie environmental nonprofit a second thought. Now I understand they went deep into woo so they can attract a person who genuinely believes the Earth is flat and NASA is actually our intelligence agency. Those exist, as in, there was a “Belgium flat-earther” who joined our group, but that mother fucker was definitely Mossad or some shit, because he was a monk beyond monks as far as willpower and skill of communication goes.

Ate one orange in a ceremony. Went eight days without eating anything. The day he ate eight oranges at once, after fasting, the woman controlling our sect went psycho, because of the fractal apod of natural demands - by which I mean our systems were cared for while being abused by larger-systemic agents.

Why is “New York” New York? Oh, the government said this land is what? There's also what God planned, as in, there was going to be a spot in “America” which produced both “Joseph Smith” AND “Victorious Indigo Phoenix,” and you children that haven't been passively keeping up with what I have done over this past decade, well, at least I will offer my servitude to y'all, which I say in response to all these ad agencies, specifically today, after deliberately applying for predatory loans, meaning, the people who set up this experiment are getting some damn godly, not even good, God must deliberately be giving them impunity to strike the daemons that make up modern society, and thus predators fell for traps today because of me.

No one told me this. I deduced it. ;)

Oh, eight inches is too small for you? Yea, me too bro. I need my mommy or sister or aunt or other female family member to have a minimum of fourteen THICK inches between their legs to even begin to get hard myself. I tell ya, this is truly a cruel world. The only way God could be crueler to the human form was to make you, personally, not me, you, a pedophile. THAT SURE WOULD SUCK BALLS, AMIRITE?!?!

…so, do you know why I do things this way, creating generally large and sometimes larger masses of text containing some particularly enlightening information in the middle but start them off with some insane, unappealing bullshit? This is consciously done, as in, I thought about this for about six seconds twelve years ago and based a huge chunk of my educational art project around the systemic effects I would create. Then six years ago I figured out how to generate 100k views on my Reddit profile per day through skillful trolling. The secret is incestuous necrophilia!

Who woulda thunk? No, I mean, I knew people like to crane their heads to gawk at the trainwreck, and I have a naturally dark, shocking sense of humor, so I started off by trying to amass as much internet traffic as possible. And I learned over the years things about conversion funnels and attention coordination and where psychology and sociology overlap to then apply them to thus find all the attention in the world was on me all of a sudden, and it freaked me out, mainly cuz it caught the FBI's attention. Y'know, my sex cult built around incestuous necrophilia that I was posting 24/7 about on meth while homeless in Miami Beach? Yea, that got the FBI's attention, which ultimately broke the spell the CIA put me under.

Hard to explain without just retelling you my book, which I tell you now, as someone who has been clean from meth and all illegal drugs for three years except some random mushrooms that grew in the drainage ditch outside my apartment complex, that book is a doozy for two reasons:

I am an insane person

I wrote every single word of it on meth

But, the thing you need to understand, while amphetamines definitely make me go loopy, I definitely do have an undiagnosed form of ADHD that cannot be diagnosed with my insurance because I have “meth” in my chart and thus I am a stinky sewer person in my doctor's opinion. However, amphetamines don't produce a euphoria, and I can sit still and just write for hours on end. I genuinely do not want to do them again because they did make me depressed and dependent on them, but I tell you all this to tell you that [Redacted] from my book, who I generally refer to as Jux, once told me about the rare form of ADHD that often gets mistaken for schizophrenia that he has, and years later the captain of our band talked to me about something similar.

So, there's that. But, what I was getting to was how I have intentionally taken a step back from trying to get famous to actively run away from seeking fame by deliberately ensuring a significant number of people outright write me off as a crackhead of no value, which additionally helps my state-sponsored educational art project (cuz education is our greatest crime-prevention), because then only people who have developed their dopamine to not be controlled by the media brainwashing will get these messages where I tell you that we control people who cannot think for themselves because of three reasons:

They are predominantly children <26

They are the most predominant demographic to be criminals

They are the most vulnerable demographic our culture can splinter to have a charismatic cult leader grab hold of a fraction of people and create an actual sex cult of massive uh-ohs

And some of you will have read the links and understand why I'm the good guy for both facilitating the Illuminati's wishes and telling y'all what they be doing. So, now we move on outta the bun and lettuce to get to the tomato, which is me revealing that I am seriously pursuing a social life to include terminally ground-pounding all the holes of these bigger women with thermonuclear force. Like, if some skinny mini gets in my DMs, I'll break them in half, great, I don't discriminate, but I want the world to know and understand that if I do not get to use my erect genitals with some very large women of any gender, I might just start stockpiling fertilizer pellets n gasoline.

…like, they make the best noises! But here we are, in the meat of this shitpost, where I reveal the core of what I've been thinking of over these last few weeks, having attended a Mormon Church after being invited at a highly synchronous moment only to be politely shamed in a way that freed me of all shame because their incompetence taught me the nature of this society game and how my unique cognition processes reality. Then I was called a pedophile, and by that I mean these 20yo “Elders” asked me if I wanted to meet people my own age, sent me to a QR code, and then ignored me because I was too old for them, while pretending to be inviting while cross-talking to me about my drinking, which is why they came to my door. And that just about broke my brain, and now I don't give a fuck.

I now identify as the prophet of Mormon Occultism. I have all I have written over the years as my scripture, and to proselytize my official sect of the Mormon Church, I am going to (finally) get into a stand-up comedy routine and start a podcast. And if you don't know what I just said, I said I am going to become the greatest quasi-antagonist to the Mormon Church in order to bring Mormonism to a more diverse crowd and to secular folk, and these bleach-white mother fuckers have no choice in this matter and WILL adapt their church to include me who includes them in my quest to teach the love, wisdom, and power of Jesus Christ and our Father.

And I don't just believe this will happen, because I know it will happen, because I am not going to TRY to be a prophet nor am I GOING TO BE a prophet. No, I AM A PROPHET! That is what this experience at this Mormon Church taught me. They had this, y'know, 20yo girl get up there and enthusiastically tell this full congregation that she DID NOT want to give her sermon, and then had the audacity to equate a warm drinking fountain with someone finding out they had cancer? Like, I'm flabberghasted by this shit. She said she cried because she had trouble learning negative numbers, and I understand life can be difficult to some people in ways that is not to others, but I've been homeless, taken advantage of by a cult, mentally ill, used by the CIA, lost my mom to AIDS as a child, hyper narcissist father who plowed through my new moms like I used tissues, y'know, I was offended by her fucking sermon.

THESE CHILDREN KNOW NOTHING AND THUS KNOW NOT THEY SHAMED THEIR LORD AS THAT I-why is my capslock on? That is what I learned. Audaciousness is lordliness. Because this girl made a complete ass of herself and felt fucking great afterwards. That's all it takes? If you have audacity, you don't have to be good at anything else? Well, bitch, I've been trying as hard as hard can be to be good enough for my Father, and now I learn if I just don't care, then it all works? Ok.

So, yea, I'm a prophet of the Mormon Church now. I just am. Fuck y'all, this is literally why Jesus is lord, and I'm serious. How does Jesus meet John? John eats locusts and dresses like shit. He's a homeless man, right? You got that right? And so Jesus is so audacious that he will go up to a homeless man and ask him for change. That's what the “baptism” is about.

“Will you bless me, sir?”

There's more in this passage. See, the Bible is truly written for everyone, but if you were to pick one demographic that the New Testament has been engineered around, it is Roman federal undercover police. I'll explain why that in a second, but to finish this train of thought, there's a lot of networking strategies encoded in the New Testament, the one contained in the parable of Jesus asking John to be baptized is that if you incur a debt from someone, they will seek you out, and this can be the basis of a friendship.

Now, let's talk about Roman undercover cops. Rome at night was hellah dangerous. Going out with only one guard was considered foolish, as the guard could be jumped, leaving you surrounded by fiends. Who are these fiends? There's no ID or camera back then. How to figure out who is robbing, raping, and killing? Network with them. Thus, the battle is won, for Jesus was so audacious, he intentionally went on the cross to prove he wasn't working with the state. He could show everyone the wounds he incurred unjustly and thus he was the one to first get into the criminal underworld to supplant it.

I mentioned I was picked up by the FBI doing something crazy. Yea. God told me to do what I did and do now. The night before I was picked up, someone that I knew to be trustworthy of God handed me a phone and told me it was for my mission. I figured this out a couple years after the fact, but the way things went down, the FBI used me in a parallel investigation to hide who the real snitch was.

That's why the battle is won. Christ fucking won that shit for us all, so now ain't no one as slick as they think they are. Except me of course! I'm the second cumming of Christ! I'm that lordly! I AM! I AM! I AM!

Them “am's” is the onions on the underside of the burger. But this is the bottom bun now, having said everything I want…no that's not true. I can go on and on and on about how I wish I had a feisty, devilish sister to fuck, fuck me, let me please her orally, and have her wash my penis as if we were doing something we shouldn't on college break while our step parents are in the other room. That last we can do with or without the blackmail component. And that's all I gotta say to discredit myself, cuz there's not a chance in hell some retard in Arizona works with the CIA.

This is prolly a total of a million words all self-contained where I fumage my musings into a stream-of-consciousness freewriting in prose and a skillful poetry style. Not every post is for everyone; I aim to help catch those running fast through the rye towards a cliff by playing an exaggerated caricature of my past self as a skilled righter and performance artist. I'm a troll that gives a shit about education, essentially. Enjoy, or don't, idgaf.

Last week was my first time attending a Mormon church. I don't have much experience with Mormonism, having been raised secularly in upstate New York. Yet, God facilitated an experience for me during my first attendance, which led to a revelation which had the effect the therapist having a heart attack has on the main character of Office Space. Everything has become clear, and I understand that God has parted the Red Sea multiple times to bring me here, to this point, specifically, so I may heal and further self-actualize to use my educational art project to its full potential.

And the joke there is I'm Q. I'm not literally Qanon, but I am already famous, just anonymous. I have an educational art project that I started twelve years ago where I teach philosophy, spirituality, and mental health skills to help people heal n self-actualize. The primary goal has been to sell the concept of God to atheists. I have twelve years of posts, poems, and even my book that have been designed around teaching the ineffable to those people whose brains shut off when they hear the word “God,” as I once was and suffered immeasurably in my ignorance.

My ultimate goal is to save past versions of myself, who are headed so fast in the rye towards a cliff. There's a joke here, how I had to be a crackhead because I wasn't good enough to be a pothead, which is a festival cop, if you didn't know. I don't know what the Mormon church teaches, specifically, nor do I know its pedagogy, but I have been thinking through the pedagogical problem of how to teach those who do not want to learn. I am skilled at teaching now, and what would vitalize my soul would be being able to rise into a position where I am teaching the wisdom of Jesus Christ and beyond to all those who identify with the light AND dark of the universe.

I have a well-founded idea of making a show in the style of The Trailer Park Boys but set in a kooky, crazy cult where each episode has its own spiritual lesson. Actually, to be perfectly blunt, I have many, many, many ideas for things I can make as someone that has written 2k-7k words per day for twelve years (the seven days of escarpments!), but I tell you this as someone previously taken advantage of by a cult and wanting to warn others of what evil lurks out there.

The underlying idea is that I am the left hand of God; while the right hand leads the flock on the path, the left hand goes into the tall grass and helps those that are very lost. And you need both, I now understand, having been trying to be the left hand independently, that I can take this to the next level by working with a larger organization, and I am just smitten by the genius of God working through Joseph Smith that led to me having these revelations.

I have a following; some being slightly fanatical as I am audacious and have learned how to generate 100k-250k views on a social media profile per day through skillful trolling. I have my educational art project, that definitely cannot be adapted to fit within orthodox Mormonism, if I may wordsmith that term in ignorance of existing sects within Mormonism, but I have been struggling with how to take my project to the next step, and the revelation I had involves the realization that I must create Mormon Occultism.

It's a bit of an oxymoron, no? Well, the thing about the Earth is that it traumatizes us all, and some people get hurt and associate “authority” with “bad,” so naturally there are people that rebel. But where do they rebel to? “Occult” just means “hidden,” and the way we have done things in the past in the occident is that we play devil's advocate for the sake of goodness. The Illuminati was a part of the police state to help guide those waking up to higher truths of the ineffable that cannot be encapsulated in language into deeper Knowledge while catching those people who just wanted to burn the church to the ground. I identify as a Mormon now, having had a religious experience with your church, but I'm going to consciously and skillfully be the quasi-opposition of your church so those that rebel fall into safe philosophies.

There is more to this. With the intrigue of the ludicrous but depthful nature of what I preach, there will be those of all backgrounds who are attracted to occult Knowledge (I like thinking about the force that makes a person click on another person's social media profile to be akin to “gravity,” or more directly, “intrigue”), who then gain insight into Mormonism and God that they previously would never have investigated, and that brings people into orthodox congregations.

A pedagogical skit of three lines:

Man: I am the son of God!

Woman: That's blasphemous!

Man: But sister, surely you know our Father?

Cuz we're all God's children. Y'know, the trick question I have to ask that can start infinite lines of dialogue: is the Earth round or flat? No, it doesn't exist, silly. We are not featherless bipeds on an Earth, but rather we are pockets of consciousness called monads in a monadic nodal communication system and the Earth is uniquely inside each of us. We are each a parallel universe “simulation” where our intention determines what we are quantumly entangled with and this determines the parameters of what is procedurally generated for us, individually as jewels of Indra's net as the experiences we have, specifically, and as a whole, God reconciles every “choice” we as a collective make to resolve into the same Omega, and that means that if our Karma is unresolved by the end of the seventh day, we will be forced to endure unmitigatable hell-realms.

This is where Buddhism and Christianity meet. Everything I just said is 100% compatible in Christianity, Buddhism, as well as many sects of occult Knowledge and likely more even I am not aware of. I want to learn more about Joseph Smith and what happened to Native American spiritualities from the mouths of those to carry that wisdom of what manifested into the Americas and thus the origins of Mormonism and who knows what else is to come. The Earth is an illusion and is procedurally generated. There was LITERALLY only Africa at a time, to then procedurally generate outwards after the parting of the Red Sea by the paths of the tribes of Israel, and I don't know about Mormonism directly, but I can believe its tenets as I know them now, for God has worked miracles to bring me to a point where I see what my teleological purpose is.

Moses was an abandoned child. Jesus was not good enough for his step-dad who was not good enough to get his own wife, so he registered for a used one. I 100% believe Jesus performed his miracles, but I understand the life that made him a sorcerer. In fact, I can even explain to you how his miracles happened with my occult Knowledge. But in tandem with that, I understand that our lord is he who does not ask for permission and speaks with the authority of his Father, as we are all God's children, but some of us get hurt being unloved, but we are those that God loves the most to give the greatest stories, and so I tell you: you are doing church right for it has given me the healing I needed to understand this. Jesus was as much a child of God as any of us who rose out of the three-dimensional system of light as a topological matrix, which is obviously why we axed his teenage years from history; so no one would make the same mistakes to know of sin but to still be without sin.

Y'know, the joke is I had a breakdown in college where I told my ROTC cadre that my nonexistent sister got me pregnant because I judged my father's wrath more of a threat than the United States Military, and the joke part of that is I didn't tell my ROTC cadre that; just my doctors. So, the joke now is I work with the F-I mean, CIA, with my educational art project, right? My story is strange, but because of it, I followed God for years and years without any wavering faith, and now I don't believe in God. I Know God, personally. I put him as speed dial #7 on my phone. And I'm going to be a stand-up comedian, I realized, teaching much through telling my strange, complex story that beget the wisdom of how to share what God has taught me to the masses.

This is happening, and some Mormons may take offense to me, and because of this semi-real, semi-fake feud, there will be a sociological force upon many demographics that you cannot reach because of their prejudice who investigate y'all to experience the lord for the first time. I want them to know that the Mormon Church is what I've been looking for my whole life, but because South Park got to me first, I would never have thought to explore hermeticism from that perspective.

The entire goal that spawned from a fateful acid trip twelve years ago was to bring militant atheists as I once was into the awareness that the world is an illusion and God is so great that He can microwave a burrito so hot even He cannot eat it. Y'know, I've seen John Cena lose arm wrestling to a little girl. I've been studying spirituality without any spiritual community for fifteen years now, having previously fallen to be of concern, spiraling in my own suffering from my ignorance, to then start learning of spirituality with Buddhism, to move into the occult, to move into broader Judeo-Christian mysticism and wisdom. I can debate atheists and more and at least spark curiosity. And I can testify, for I know the lowest lows and have been brought to ever rising heights, and so the joke is, I'm finally good enough to be an alcoholic, and thank God for that!

So, I want you to know that I respect and cherish your sect of Christianity, I just have my divine, cosmic mission I must do for our Lord, and no one can tell me who I am, and thus, I stand here now knowing that by doing this, it is inevitable that I will help at least one soul find Jesus Christ, and in my possession of the logos of God, I can speak with the ethos of God, having learned the pathos of God in my childhood. Amen.