Satanic Voodoo Atheist TV Party Tonight

June 12, 2012

Now I don’t have it. I had it for a minute there but I lost it. It’ll come back it usually does.

I traveled to a city. New York City. We were visiting a famous Satanist’s home that took up at least four floors of a corner building. There were to be ceremonies and orgies. I was up for anything. I wasn’t there to worship Satan. I was doubtful many of the characters I met were there to worship Satan. We were there for the experiences. A girl came up to me and asked if I was ready for sex with her. I agreed neither excited by her or turned off. She was cute and chubby. Under normal circumstances I would have jumped at the chance to be with her. Some of the people there wore masks and costumes. Goat masks and black robes were the most popular but some wore superhero masks and high class feathered masquerade masks with no clothes or dressed in high society garb. The girl kept disappearing and coming back to me telling me to wait and sit and stand and lay on her bed and her sexual ceremony will start soon. It did. She was pleasant. We snuck about again while she got dressed for a ceremy. We missed the full blown orgy but the stage finale was about to begin and I pulled down my light weight mask to watch.

I lost it again. I know if I look I won’t find it. I’ll just have to relax and see if I get it back. It usually comes back.

Another City. San Francisco. Another building with floor after floor after floor. Another party and more friends I never met came with me for the ride and their kicks. They got ‘em we all did somehow. I kept getting fascinated with the ornaments hanging everywhere. They looked like Voodoo related ornaments. There were pretty young women approaching me left and right telling me about the ornaments and inviting me to the next show and I was worried that I didn’t have enough money and they kept telling me that their shows were of no cost that I have to worry about. One friend wants to leave this party and I show him that I can’t go yet because my shoes are wrong. I was wearing Docksiders with the bottoms ripped apart for some reason. I haven’t worn them in over 20 years. I didn’t want to leave anyway even though there were no orgies here. I wanted to stay and learn. Watch more shows. Meet more pretty girls showing me new ornaments. I felt alive in that building. I felt, dare I say, happy.

It slipped me again. I try fighting this time to get it back. It’s not coming. I remind myself it will. It always does. Then I feel panic that it might not come back this time. Maybe?

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Dreams of Stains, Refrains and Delorians on Film

May 4, 2012

Yeah. I haven’t had writer’s block per say. I’ve been busy having my 19th nervous breakdown and drawing to pay rent. I love drawing but I miss writing as much as I normally do.

So, here’s a well something I wrote based on a few dreamses.

It was group therapy. It was forced therapy. It was a family reunion of the family that never was but perhaps should be. Grammar school orgy. Grammer school orgy. It was a film making table reading in a locked room. Forced filmmaking. Script reading. It was confusion. Both of my, well 3 of my (2 are brothers) friends who made make write score create direct films -William Hellfire and the Martin Brothers-Andy and Jim Martin were there as counselors or doctors or caretakers or leaders or patients taking charge. They had their latest cast or character actors who belonged here with me along with Kat Dennings with the personality of her character Max in the non-hit TV show 2 Broke Girls, another friend Cherie, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Andy’s friends Rick and Pat and Hellfire’s latest young hot sultry actresses ready to do anything. Anything. Non of the other girls mattered. I liked Kat. I was really into her this time and not the average young skinny wild ready for anything models (although she was young and not fat-she was older than and heavier than most girls I dream about and the ones in the room).

 

The reading was tedious. Repetition and such. Words. Just words. I kept thinking. The padded walls became more apparent. Was it part of the set or part of the prison? The cell. The reading? The words. There was a window in the corner left right over the top wall. I was padded and bars decorated the outside. I think it a was plastic window. No glass for the loons. This loon.

 

We could hear the heavy storm a coming. Rolling round the bend. A hurricane. An avalanche? The doors were bolted shut and we hung out in the lobby of the built in movie theater we found though a secret compartment and sneaked in and ate popcorn and drank coffee and soda. Mr Hellfire always had a stash of liquor with him to share and some took some and some turned it down. This was our scared straight therapy I proposed in my mind. The party was just beginning and I felt like I just begun as well. I never began. I never stopped or started. No one understood why we were there and most of us didn’t care or cared too much. We fluctuated back and forth. An orgy. An evening of days spread across the calendar of my subconscious or maybe I was part of someone else’s dreams.

The storm subsided eventually and I dreamed my way onward onto a floatation vehicle. A car. A Delorian. A delirium. Ruins of the storm maintain the balance somehow and the roads –Who needs roads?- I see foreign flying vehicles. Ed Woodian saucers like whipped by me on the way to Gary’s house. Flight attendants offer my navigational gal Friday pills for the ride and I steer along seamlessly despite the nausea.

 

“Go ahead and vomit” I tell Gary but Gary never gets sick.

 

We arrive in his underground tavern. Cavern to find his equipment ready to go. We park. Hang out forgetting the therapy of filmmaking and ballet dancing. When he’s ready for me to leave the BitchCave Gary confidently hands me a package. I knew what to do as I climb into a new flight device. Airplane maybe?

Flight of the dead. Dead musicians, friends, loves and my own life obliterated into one pile of ashes from the exhaust flames of a flying saucer. I’m still high from the flames and the guilt.


Cabbage: the Poem

December 6, 2011

I wake up to the smell of cabbage

I am sleeping on a giant cabbage leaf

The blue . . . no green . . now orange

Rib caged baby lion in a now current

Monster of coolness of sorts sorts the

Mail on his autumn leaves in Louisville

A cup of Earl Grey tea you fancy?

Fancy me? What did I do?

Where did I go?

Carpet cleaners are coming around noon.

Can they, would they spray me down with pink poison?

So, I can breathe again

Slim Gilliard would love the gibberish singing you screech

To me about fried ice cream and potato chips.

Alternatives? Drink snot and call me in the morning.

Call someone before you snuff it, off it, give up.

Please.

I’d like to catch up first.

Not save you. Live, learn and breathe with you.

You can go anytime just talk to me first.

Please

Something in the way she crowds around me

Grinds spines in the old chop shop

Aunt Dollien operated by herself

I should have, you should have

Helped her. Bloody mess it was.

Not she. 117-years-old and still

In charge. We listen and obey

She rides off into the distance towards the rising sun

Like the girl with no name in a Sergio Leone Spaghetti Western.

Bang Bang. You shot me down.

Bang Bang! I’m vested and not crying yet

Ready

To meet my Angels. Are you?

Powder blue suntan, flowering yellow hair,

Insects in your eyes, resting, not doing any harm

They need rest too, ya know.

Sink deep into an opiate coma with me

With him, with her, everybody sing

“All we need is Love”

The bed drops softly to accommodate

Our bodies.

“Everybody is just a little homosexual. Whether they like or not” Allan Ginsberg once sang through my departed allies.

The piss in your pants somehow comes off

As a romantic gesture. just not sure who or whom or me.

Romance, courting and foreplay have changed.

Piss, spit and a clean T-shirt is all we desire

Under the brown, dark chocolate brown, chair

That wiggles when I turn on Wagner.

Maybe it’s German. Jewish.

“You should burn it and find out.” Jack said to me

Wiping the cocaine off his Skrewdriver T-shirt.

Salute the master. Carry his bones to the crematory

Make sure he’s powdered. Maybe a nice face powder someday.

Bring your tired looking face back to life.

They call you “face job” ya know?

I call you love.

Is life worth the sadness, the happiness, the ups and downs?

Worth love? Worth death?

Worth money?

(pause and take a deep breath.)

Tuna. Grazed grazed 2 day old fish  marked down 58 percent.

Thank God for the rain or the smell would have turned on the perverts and scared the little girls.

Take me back to the thousand foot

Red tranquil trees hanging over my head

Terrifying peace as the sun goes down.

Dreams don’t have to die

Ya know?


Another Day

August 7, 2011

I figured I’d post this old comic strip I did that still sums things up sometimes.


Nightmares and Dreams Video Experiment

July 9, 2011

Home.

Bed

Dream.

Smile. Dream.

Nightmare.

Fear.

Sexual delight

Frustration

Proactive


Thank God I’m an Athiest

April 12, 2011

A religious rant? Maybe. Maybe not.

Does it really matter what I think or feel about religion? I rarely talk about it but her goes nothing.

Actually, something happened today that got me thinking. I ask questions on formspring.com and I ask things that I’m curious about in people in general. Sometimes I’m silly, sometimes I’m curious and sometimes I’m serious. I asked about 130 people that I follow whether he/she believes in God or a “higher power”. It was interesting. The most interesting answer I got was confrontational.

“Do you believe in God or some sort of “higher power”?” I asked.

“Better question: Why is it that in our culture it is completely acceptable for a total stranger to ask some one the details of their spirituality? Why is it that we do not treat that information like the intimate thing that it is? People often structure their personal morality on their religion or lack there of, so it stands to reason that it should be a much more in depth conversation than “so do you believe in God?”. Honestly I think it is vulgar to toss out that question as simply as you might ask some one about the weather. Short answer: That’s not something I discuss with some just any one.” She answered.

I wasn’t trying to be deep or intrusive. It was pretty much a yes or now answer type of question. I was really curious as to why it seemed personal to her. I’ve asked way more personal questions like “What is the first thing you do after sex?” and there were polite answers from people that did think it too personal. I don’t feel attacked by the god answer but it threw me off.

Personally, I never cared much about the existence of God until I was introduced to the 12 steps where I “had” to find a “higher power” to help me recover. I kept it simple and call Him God but my interpretation or beliefs are flexible. I know that God could be anything. He could be Jesus, Buddha, Allah, nature etc. I’m open enough to believe that it could just be something in my own head that I “pray” to. It worked for 20 years. To a certain degree my non-descript God is still working. Like any human I lose faith. I also gain it. I keep on truckin’ despite my persona;. Emotional and physical problems and I still depend on a “higher power”. It’s just changed. I know that I am in control of some things and I have no control on others.

I just heard a great comparison to Bipolar disorder to the weather. It’s a daily thing. I rarely check the weather reports. I open the door and check the weather and then I know how to prepare for the weather. My mind is like that. I wake up depressed and I know the things that I have to do to prepare for the day.

This is how I explain my belief in God. It varies day to day. I don’t expect things to change. I just want to be prepared for what’s ahead of me and the ability to accept and change it. That’s my belief. I don’t think everyone should have the same view.

I used to bash various religions especially the one’s that seemed pushy. I hated religions that had the “holier than thou” attitude or “believe what I believe or you are going to Hell”. I could go on about all of the wars in the name of God and tear apart the hypocrisies of the members and clergies but that doesn’t help me. My personal beliefs help me. I don’t know if any religion is right or wrong. I do know it’s wrong to judge someone just because they do not believe what I believe. That is my only problem with religions. Every religion, atheist, agnostic, organization or group has it’s good points and bad points. They all have members that set a good example for the above-mentioned groups.

I don’t have any answers. I am open minded to believe that any belief could be the right one. There may not be a God. There might not be a heaven or hell. I may be my own God.

I never overanalyzed it like many people I know but I was pretty judgmental. I was lucky that religion was never pushed on me. I was raised Catholic. My first natural family weren’t real consistent with it so I found church boring and uninteresting. I was “adopted” at 11 and my new mom was (is) an ex-Catholic nun and my new father was and Agnostic Jew (ex-Jew). They raised me with my options open and I chose not to choose. I did what any self centered teenager might do. I lived for the moment. Instant gratification was my middle name. (still is sometimes). In college I wrote a paper about God for a philosophy course. That was the last time I really gave God or spirituality a thought. I received an A on the paper but was failing life.

As I mentioned already I was encouraged to find a “higher power” when I stopped drinking at age 24 by 12-step meetings. It changes as I do. He or She changes as I change.

One point I took a brief interest in studying Anton LaVey’s Satanism. It preached more peace than I expected. I was curious because LaVey seemed such a charismatic character. He was witty, intelligent and convincing. Then I realized that his distaste for the Catholic Church made his “religion” pretty much the same as any other. I don’t judge it or any religion at this point.

The individuals of various religions and the Atheists are the ones that get to me. The “haters” from each organization religious or otherwise are the ones to give what they claim to represent a bad name. If you are that convinced that your way is right for you then the need to recruit and convince others your way is the only way then you should live your beliefs not preach hate.

I am not committed to or hold anything against any religion or belief system unless it involves hatred and violence.

I think I had a point with all this. If not oh well. I haven’t written a blog for a while so here it is.


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