Excerpt from The Official History of Tomorrow’s Dream pages 87-89

June 22, 2012

NOTE: This is an excerpt from the book I wrote way back in January  2018 and published in May 2020.

Excerpt from The Official History of Tomorrow’s Dream page 87-89

How Jocko and his teamster pal Buck got over the scrap of indigo blow snort gavel, only a real scientist will tell. Examine them closely and you would never know they were table beef survivors. The tracking devices made them look cool and even lowered their temperatures but they were being watched. Every skip and jump over the sand dunes were known by Kaydick Industries.

“Jocko self serving through production of self right bbbbBuck?” Jocko asked with unquestionable certainty.

“Aww knock it off Jocks. We’ve been through this before. These feelings of inadequacy will pass. Drink this.”

Buck passed the chuckle juice to Jocko knowing it would calm him down and in turn calm them both down. Jocko took several swigs and starred into the several sunned blurry sky wishing he were still a civilian and not a runaway ex table beef. The Agency had no use for them but Kaydick Industries followed their moves for the fun of it more than any business matters at hand.

“Feel better now?” Buck asked.

“Yeah. I feel so inspired. Can I piggy back now?”

“You know you’re too heavy but if you need human contact I can ride you. Just remember last time I rode you. You tore a few stitches.”

“It’s ok. Ride me. Ride me.”

The temperature was rising near 1,046 degrees porfeos. Dry heat that humps your glands like a reptile. If you’ve ever been humped by a reptile then you know. They had no choice in a life situation like this but to keep moving. The other side of desert is the town of Gointhaw. They would be safe for a while there. One would think with a population of 456,890 they could get away and not be seen despite the high tech tracking system.

 

Meanwhile Ralph was helping me with my own problems. The center of my scrotum was unnerved during the last explosion. I needed Ralph’s strong hands to reach inside and “pull the strings” as the motthoppers called it in my day. Not sure of the proper medical procedure’s name. Ralph wasn’t medical. He was physical for sure. He stuck his hands right up in there, you see. And wiggled each finger one at a time until he saw my fantastic grin reaching each ear almost. Chagrin. Ouuuther.

“Thanks. I needed that.” I said.

“Uppers yup. For you I can do fritterpops. Wholesale style. Ya know.” Ralph said.

Now my only agenda was to take photo options for the Agency. They remote wired me for the mission. My brain would freeze as they send a signal telling me when to click the device resembling absolutely nothing like a camera or visual recording device. It was built into my forehead like a third eye yet invisible to the eye. It was under my skin yet the 3 kolopuy length and width lens could actually see from the far away Agency laboratory. The trigger/button was on the side of my nose and only about .006 Kintopuys. It looked like I was scratching my colossal sized honker.

It was a fairly simple routine besides the brain freeze but the Agency was cautious and paranoid so Ralph was by my side in case I ran into any trouble. In some countries and cultures scratching my nose and staring at someone would be considered rude or a primal way of saying “skitter over lipper”. Even an inactive agent like myself could get quite the head banging and artillery action for that. Ralph is there to break up any potential violence like that and multiple other types. He’s a good zoo, ya know, it’s fun to keep him around. He doesn’t need weapons. I told ya what those hands can do with my “problem”.

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Excerpt from The Official History of Tomorrow’s Dream page 36

March 13, 2012

NOTE: This is an excerpt from the book I wrote way back in January  2018 and published in May 2020.

I was in no position to take any of Halloway’s shit after a 5-day binge on cooked Euro-celery root and the headaches. God damned headaches.

First thing he comes on with I should start off with the incision from the carnie side of the cerebral influx not remembering yesterday’s lesson about shape shifting and hemorrhoids from Dr Ghastling. Halloway was a real stinker like my pappy said.

No effects on the vortex even if instantly watching unlimited moving pictures for a quarter had nothing to do with the skunk hangover of the patented patient. Fades faster to pinwheels and the smell of audacious ringmasters.

Holloway’s brother-in-law, Chromebook had no jurisdiction on this side of Camden yet he bullied Frank and his sister incessantly for information just to get an emotional contact high. It’s been known that in some hidden forgotten satanic circles that emotional vampires take authoritative forms such as lawmen so they can put the squeeze on faster and easier.

No one noticed my scalpel shaking in my appendage while rotating the blade diagonally against Dr Halloway’s orders. Shit. The necroband anesthesia was wearing off. I needed a hit before the patient. He was just a meat baby anyway. An adult bodystocking. He signed the papers so it was all on the up and up. The operation was.

“I hate to brag.” I said which is untrue. I love to brag.

“I’ve once had a hunchback on the table break out in rage when he woke up to see his intestinal visceral in my hand.”

Halloway finally shut up and listened as he injected the patient with 1,200 milligrams of Delaudid so I could continue my jackhammer approach differing from anything I did before on a patient.

“The hunchback grabbed his insides out of my fingers and sniffed them mumbling something about malpractice and I was more afraid of the word malpractice than I was of this monster waving his insides out and about.”

Halloway rode my ass a little more while I tried to finish my tale telling me to concentrate on the surgery at hand. It was my hand at hand so I shoved him and he knocked nurse Mia into my Nitro supplies. Instead of freaking I grabbed her and told her to get orders out to clean the mess and fill out proper procedure forms for sexual harassment against Halloway. I’d back her up and say I saw him touch her thighs in protest against the patient’s skullectemy. As she left I tucked mr meat baby’s skeptic under his rear circular lobe.

“No malpractice here Mr Moto. Now sit the fuck back and let’s put you together.’ I had to use the ball peen hammer to knock him out because a needle wouldn’t hit the mainline fast enough. The Nurse at hand did the injection shit and I did my Indian Healing Dance before shoving his yuck yucks back in his body. I had to reach down his throat manually to find a piece of his Duodenum lodged in there. I used a pocket sewing kit my daughter had given me for Saint Patricks Day to get the insiders job inside before closing him up. Sometimes you have to make due with whats available. You ever hear of Seward’s Theory of Skull Unification and Carcass Connection?”

I looked Halloway in the eye and asked again. He hurried off forgetting his final instructions to wind up the wound with scarfree tape. He also left his bottle of vodka.

Sheriff Jejun got wise to ole Chromebook’s iniltration on his turf. If anyone is going to shake Frank and Jane’s beans it’s going to be him. He needed the fix more than his rival Chrombook. Jejun was more of a gentle emotional werewolf draining the families only 3 nights a month and usually while they slept so they were better form now knowing. An after effect of an emotional werewolf is more like a night out one ecstasy the next day. Slight discomfort and spinal shaking. The vampire however drains you until the point of death then releases you. Sometimes the vampire works slowly over the course of several days maybe even a week. It takes weeks to recover.

The battle between Jejun and Chromebook goes back centuries worse than any invisible underground catastrophe imaginable.

I think Halloway is an emotional vampire afraid to show his colors in the office, which explains his pent up anger, and skin corrosion.  I guess I’m warning you less subtly then I do my comrade Doctors and nurses. Fuck the doctors. Their mostly hacks and dictator individualists that have no talent just training. Don’t get me started on the nurses and the pandemonium that ensues just looking at one.

As Mr Lloyd Johnson used to say “They are all antidotes for an erection”.

Don’t hide or run. Stay put and all will be as it can under the knife


Leading You Nowhere . . .

September 4, 2010

I’ve been slacking lately on the writing. When I do write I want to have something to say or talk about and there are no events that have been happening that stand out to talk about. There’s a lot going on in my head but I haven’t felt like writing about it. That’s why I’m writing right now. Sometimes I have to write just for the sake of writing. Clear my head a little bit, ya know? Who knows maybe this will lead somewhere. Maybe what I am writing now will lead to something to write about or maybe it already has. Do you write?

Do you ever get writer’s block as they call it? I think I’ve been getting that lately. Either that or laziness of the mind. The one thing that has always unblocked me as a writer is to just start writing. Hey. That’s what I’m doing now, isn’t it? Are you still reading? Good. Then we have something going between us. I write and you read. A fair deal.

A family friend is an artist. He told me a long time ago that the art isn’t complete until someone sees it and shares the experience. Otherwise its not art to him. I didn’t question him. I believed that. Like what’s going on right now between you and I. This writing isn’t complete unless you read it, right?

Last week my cousin who is also a talented artist was visiting and I decided to share this great wisdom with him. I told him that the art isn’t complete without someone seeing it. Do know what he had the audacity to do. You won’t believe this. He asked why. What nerve? He expected an explanation for my undeniable wisdom that was passed down to me from a more experienced artist then both of us. I couldn’t believe he was questioning me. Do you want to know what really bothered me about his question? I’m assuming you said yes. If not I’m going to tell you anyway. What bothered me the most about his question was that I did not have an answer. My jaw dropped and I tried my hardest to explain to him but my final answer was “I don’t know”. We had a similar discussion about God later but I won’t get into that one.

Here, what I so blindly accepted years ago as the holy word, the truth, solid information, my cousin questioned. He questioned it because he had not heard that before and he is more of a free thinker than I am. He has questions and wants answers as opposed to me accepting things at face value. I guess my faith extends beyond God. I have faith in people and what I hear as truth and simply accept it. This is good and bad for me.

I don’t always fight for things. I accept a no as meaning no. I also hate people that won’t take no for an answer. It annoys me. It could be jealousy or envy but I doubt it. Don’t get me wrong, I fight for something that I feel I deserve or something I believe in but I save my battles for something important. Usually I accept it. You tell me it’s snowing outside in New Jersey in July I might believe you. I’ll have my doubts. I think I’m off track again.

Coincidentally, the night my cousin was over my family’s artist friend came by as well. So I took the opportunity to bring up the question my cousin asked. Why? He explained it and went back and forth with my cousin about what art is. My cousin believes it’s art if you are just doing it for you. We all agreed that we create for ourselves first. My cousin believes the art is art in the process and getting your emotions out not the end result. Earlier, I referred to my art and writing as products. The word product had a negative connotation to him. Product is a word used commercially. To me it means something that I produced. It’s a product. The point of whether art is still art if no one sees it was never made clear that night. I still blindly accept that the art process or my case the writing process is complete when someone or many people are reading it. Are you still reading this. I’m assuming you are. This piece was written for me and I just assume that you will read it. You did. Right?

This piece of writing is complete art now. Now go tell your friends to read this and see if it becomes better writing because more people read it and the process is even more complete.

I knew when I started writing this it would eventually lead somewhere. You are that somewhere. Thank you.


Build Your World

August 3, 2010

This is a daily story/ meditation I received in my email today. I hope you get something out of it. I did.

“Make it a practice to judge persons and things in the most favorable light at all times, in all circumstances”. -Saint Vincent de Paul

A religious man learned that a prostitute was doing business in his neighborhood. He found her house, stood across the street, and watched men enter and leave her home. Every time he saw a customer walk out, he placed a stone in a little pile, symbolizing the weight and extent of her sins. Years later, the prostitute died, and soon afterward so did the man. When the man was shown to his heavenly abode, he was aghast to find but a heap of stones similar to the mound he had built to mark the prostitute’s wrongdoing. On the other side of the gray pile, he saw a magnificent estate with rolling lawns and colorful gardens, where the prostitute strolled joyfully. “There must be some mistake!” he railed. “That woman was a prostitute, and I was a religious man.”

“There is no mistake,” a voice answered. “That prostitute hated her job, but it was the only way she knew to make money to support herself and her young daughter. Every time she was with a client, she inwardly prayed, ‘Dear God, please get me out of this.’ You, on the other hand, were fascinated only with her sins. While she was talking to God, you were talking to rocks. She got what she prayed for, and so did you. ”

Things are not what they appear to be. We never really know the motive or consciousness behind someone’s actions. Any act can be a tool of the ego, or an avenue for the Holy Spirit. We inherit the world we build with our thoughts.

I pray to keep You in my mind today. Let me not wander into temptation to see less than love.

I build a world of beauty with my thoughts.

———-
This meditation is an excerpt from Alan Cohen’s meditation book, A Deep Breath of Life. If you liked today’s meditation check out his book. http://www.hayhouse.com/details.php?id=4


Spirituality

June 12, 2010

I have spirituality today that flows through me most of the time whether I want it to or not. I prefer having it. Many people judge me by the subversive art, writings and music I create and don’t think that it’s humanly possible for me to be a spiritual being. At times I’ve struggled with the outwardly contradictions of my creations and my spiritual beliefs. I’ve had people ask me “YOU believe in god?” I always laugh it off and say yes. They either accept my answer or they don’t. Usually it’s not an issue.

What is spirituality? Merriam-Webster online dictionary has several definitions.

Spirituality

1 : something that in ecclesiastical law belongs to the church or to a cleric as such

2 : clergy

3 : sensitivity or attachment to religious values

4 : the quality or state of being spiritual

It defines Spiritual

1 : of, relating to, consisting of, or affecting the spirit : incorporeal <spiritual needs>

2 a : of or relating to sacred matters <spiritual songs> b : ecclesiastical rather than lay or temporal <spiritual authority> <lords spiritual>

3 : concerned with religious values

4 : related or joined in spirit <our spiritual home> <his spiritual heir>

5 a : of or relating to supernatural beings or phenomena b : of, relating to, or involving spiritualism : spiritualistic

I believe it’s a personal thing. It’s a personal relationship with a “higher power”. It’s something outside of me that flows inward. It is relative to a “spirit” but not a standard definition for me. I believe in keeping in close contact with this “spirit” through prayer, meditation and through some of the people I hang out with that I can maintain a spiritual balance. It also requires action. I can pray and meditate all that want but nothing is going to change if I don’t make an effort in living my life the best I can. Hopefully I can help others in the process.

In the past year and a half or so I have learned some key elements that have helped strengthen and maintain my spiritual being. First of all “God” as I chose to call him, has become more important everyday. He is the most important part of my life and if I expect to have a useful pleasurable life I need to grow spiritually. I’ve learned that I must take actions against my will on a daily basis. Do what my selfish brain doesn’t want me to do like be there for friends and family and even strangers. Helping others is an important factor to my spiritual well being as well. I’ve also learned that it is not about me. Despite my self absorbed projects and creative ventures I must remain aware of contributing to society and my fellow man.

I believe in karma. Whatever happens to me is a result of something I did. If I do the right thing in most situations then the right thing will happen. The while do unto others as you would have them do unto you way of living is the best way to go. If I treat everyone well then I usually get treated well and feel good. If I treat people like shit then I get the same back.

These are pretty simple concepts. I don’t want to debate religion or God. I am merely expressing my views that grow everyday I act on them. Overall, I appreciate life today. I am grateful for my God, friends, family and you.

My art, writings and music are merley pains and darkness within me being released. Once I get them out creatively I usually feel better. It doesn’t matter whether I draw pictures, write stories or songs about serial killers, Satan, demons, sexual perversions, and if I curse. It’s part of who I am and I am still a spiritually developing human being finding my voice and my way through this sometimes-crazy thing called life. I love it and wouldn’t have it any other way.


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