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Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Onward we go... passed 700 Smoking Mirrors posts a few days ago. Will the internet still be here when number 1,000 rolls around in early 2016 or even before? Mr. Optimism says, "Yes." Mr. Optimism also tells me that quite a few other things won't be around then. Of course what this amounts to is my talking to myself; not the same as discoursing with invisible friends but more like creative schizophrenia. Unbridled schizophrenia is not a good thing cause the horses get out of the pasture, being as parts of the fence are broken down and then, you've got what? You've got rustlers and rattlesnakes, gopher holes and people with horse trailers and bad intentions. Managed schizophrenia is like dual carbs, of course some us us have a four barrel and that's pretty ultimate.
You knew it was just a matter of time didn't you? I did. It is seriously amusing (can I say that?) to watch the western catamite impotents (I couldn't say 'western powers' could I?) accuse Russia of all the things they are doing themselves and there they are. There they are; the lying hypocrites, with their hired mercenaries doing that SAS phony Arabs with Bombs in Basra thing; utilizing the same serial killers that mowed down that crowd in Baghdad (was it?) and after which they did that Prince thing with their name. Hmmm... isn't there some cat called 'Prince' connected with that pack of psychopaths? Yeah... gotta love those coincidental ironies.
Given that there absolutely, positively, unarguably is a divine being, one can readily (if capable) imagine the kind of brier patches he intends to lead these despicable fiends into. Mr. Optimism says, "it won't be long now." My memory consistently draws me back to one of my perambulations with Lord Ayahuasca in Italy, where the ineffable informed me that he was going to show up in the midst of them and catch them with their pants down and how he was going to get diabolically ingenious and followed up with,"and I think you can imagine just how ingenious that might be, given that there are no limits on my capacity or power. No, you can't but you probably have some idea. Wait and see." I'm definitely into 'wait and see' and there's where Mr. Optimism comes in, cause he's critical to that moment to moment, day to day thing. He maintains the attitude necessary for negotiating the crumbling infrastructure of this, 'look what they did to it!' world. Oh right, I'm somewhere where that isn't happening anyway; probably a good idea if I keep mind and body in the same geographical location more often.
What would a posting be without yet one more example of an endless, swishing battalion of professional whiner-speak troublemakers? Yes, it is yet another Zionist spy, caught working on the Mossad dime, to undermine someone else's country. We know this is a gratuitous and self serving fast, which means he'll back off soon enough when he realizes that Cuba is not amused by these predictable antics on the part of the Anti-Gentilists.
Another amusing trend these days is when people decide they are going to push boundaries because, after all; who says you can't play in the NFL if you are a woman? We know it's just a myth about our bodies being different and... and... I don't think I've been so inspired by something like this since the Amazons were amputating a breast so that they could use their bows more effectively.
The behind the scenes pressure from the liquor and tobacco lobbies is fierce when it comes to the federal government AND given who, yet again, owns the former, it's no surprise about how heavy that pressure can be; then you say to yourself; "Well, that can't be true of the tobacco industry too can it?" then you see some of the names and... oh well; back to wait and see... wait and see.
I wonder if that red moon actually means anything? I wonder about a lot of things but not in any kind of a way where it turns out to matter a great deal what's next because everything... winds, by however serpentine and Byzantine route, to a conclusion where it serves the interests of the ineffable. Either we believe this or we don't, or we believe it on Tuesday but not on Wednesday, or we believe it in the afternoon ...but once evening arrives we've slipped back into a state of uncertainty. Ergo, consistency is another major problem that holds hands with self deception and both of them like to sashay down the garden path for an afternoon swim in the septic tank. There's self deception sunning itself on a plastic raft, dreaming of Bin Julips; shark fins are cutting the surface of the water. It's an exciting time.
It should come as no surprise what is going on these days and it should further come as no surprise who is responsible.
And so it goes... what is there for me to talk about that hasn't been sifted and sorted through thousands of similar vignettes, like the one I am presently writing my way out of at this very moment? What is there to say in this realm of worm food that comes and goes? It comes and goes? That's not precisely true, the theater of operations remains ...but the worm food comes and goes. If we had access to real, wide angle, time lapse photography, we'd know a lot more about the things we know all too little about because those things reveal themselves in the consistency of lifetimes and over the course of lifetimes, separate from and unknown to each other and not in particular lifetimes, unless that lifetime is truly exceptional.
It stands to reason, were reason even part of the equation anymore, that any sane person, were sanity a general public trait, would look at the way things are and seek to separate themselves from it as much as it may be possible; to divorce and separate themselves at a wide divide from the insidious darkness of these times. Unfortunately for many, they can see no way out and lack the means, in any case, to effect such a thing. The only ones in a position to take advantage of this option, are those who have been already living apart, according to whatever outcast methodology they came up with that made doing so possible.
I've been living that way most of my life, drifting from one temporary sustenance providing scenario to another. This granted a certain amount of creative freedom but it granted near nothing in terms of amassing assets beyond immediate needs. I've been okay with that. It got me this far; this 'wing and a prayer' way of going about doing things. What I've found is that it gets easier as you go, if your heart has been in the right place all along and if you don't mind adjusting to the adjustments made upon you, when it might have occasionally not been in the right place... and so it goes.
I keep thinking that there's got to be some stage of awareness right around the corner that suddenly makes sense out of all these abstruse conflicts and conditions, which ought to be transparent and easy to understand because they keep cycling and they don't show many anomalies, in the process of their redundancy ...but something isn't right, is it? Something can't be right because it keeps mystifying us; most of us anyway. It's the same thing repeating itself, sometimes in a new shape, with a different coloration ...but nothing else is different. So it seems to me that there must be some time sensitive awareness in waiting, hovering there on the borders of the cloud of unknowing, some few meters beyond the sightline of the saucer pods windshield.
When hope seems but a far off memory; like some kind of faded flower pressed into an old book, you turn the page and there it is. Forgotten scents waft their way upward and you recall other times and climes when things were a great deal different than they are now, or at least they seemed to be. Maybe it's just that you didn't know then what you know now. As I was saying, when hope seems but a far off memory and all the world has gotten gray, like a steel mill town in winter, in those years after that steel mill closed down, when it seems like nothing would ever be right again and all you find yourself capable of ...is to move aimlessly forward toward the possibility of an easy death. It's something you would have hoped for back when hope and you were an item. It is in times like those that serendipity rides in on an out of town bus and you find yourself sitting next to it at a lunch counter, while patches of sunlight dapple across the Formica, like some promise from an elusive benevolence.
I've read so many tales of grueling circumstance and desperate scenarios in which people have found themselves and then... somehow they were on the other side of it and the sun was shining again and all of that, whatever it was, is just a departing memory. How did you get from there to there? Often people can't trace the actual steps. I've found myself engaged in the attempt to do it and come up short. That's because the magic hands of the unseen were at work, as I believe they are now; right now as a matter of fact ...and... all I can say to that is, "we'll see".
Sunday's radio broadcast is still available for streaming and so are the angels of the ineffable.
'The Sirius Song' will feature on a forthcoming Visible album, sometime in 2014
Lyrics (pops up)
The Curious Tale of Ash and The Whine
- 'A Novel of the Unnatural and Supernatural...'
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