A couple of Sundays ago, I saw a biker memorial at a local park.  They were flying colors of some gang which someone later told me had affiliation with Hells Angels.  In looking at them, I saw an anachronism.  I saw people looking and living like ridiculous caricatures of something from the past.  They appeared for the most part, ugly and unattractive.  Their motorcycles had loud and obtrusive appearance and sound.  Almost all the women seemed old and weathered, completely unattractive and lacking in style and grace.  I saw a social hierarchy that reminded me of all types of gangs I have observed over the years.  Oddly enough, the memorial had bagpipes like the funerals of police and fire departments.  I heard later that some older member had died from an aneurysm. 

My mind filled with memories, mostly unpleasant, of my associations with this ilk.  Sure, I rode bikes at one time, but never had a fancy for them. They are too noisy, smell bad, and too many friends of mine have gotten maimed or killed pursuing that life style. I also found that many of them are racists and worse still, lean toward Christianity and Right Wing political views.  I try to steer away from those who have a fondness for that lifestyle, regardless of how nice they seem. 

I found that the "Easy Rider" type motorcyclist is a weekend wannabe, mostly emulating at least in their look, the one percenters in outlaw clubs-pretty good marketing by Easy Riders.  I found that the clubs all had the same mentality and mostly engaged themselves in criminal activities, despite the claim that most members do not engage as such.  I found that people attracted to this ugliness, mostly have some aspects to their personalities which could use some changing if they wanted to live more vibrantly.  I thought about how many of us get too serious about our identities and confuse that with our purpose in living.  It seems that this type will preoccupy themselves with maintaining that identity over developing a purpose that dictates the shaping of the identity.

I also found that thrill seeking, while it helps some prove to themselves that they have courage, mostly comes on a dare which shows insecurity.  Daring and risk taking have their place in furthering and realizing purpose, but have little use otherwise, except to perpetuate addiction like behavior.  Most of what I see in this area has to do with getting adrenalin release or accompanies other addiction-like thinking and behavior and has everything to do with activities of immediate gratification versus delayed gratification.  Even those feigning delayed gratifications may get immediate gratifications along the way in that process.  Over the years, we have also seen those who keep a bike in their garage to ride on the weekends.  Eventually, for whatever reason, many of them get rid of it, selling it to some other person with a midlife shift who wants to get in touch with their "badass", adventurous side.  Usually, they grow up, keeping the youthful curiosity and enthusiasm and put their hot rods and motorcycles away as childish things to live as men with purpose and malleable identity.

On the other end of this, we have seen those who keep on with all this and wind up crippled.  We saw a few of them hobbling around the memorial.  They looked like geriatric versions of Billy Givens from ZZ Top.  When we see these types, we think of the Blues and their love for Country Music, we also think of their usual racist attitudes, we wonder how many are not ex felons or ex military. Not many when we build rapport and ask questions.  We do not socialize with these types.  They are too predictable and too boring and very unattractive.

        

Without question, we know that a great tragedy occured these eight years ago. 

The tragedy remains, that once again, our people suffered as a result of long term actions of the Military Industrial Complex. 

The evidence, the facts, all of it, has been well documented since before the inception of our "National Identity".   Our republic had just enough juice to entice those seeking better lives from repressive cultures and societies.  We do not question that many millions have achieved greater freedoms in coming here.  The bait has been well taken and the fish remain hooked by the shoal.  The three oceans remain rife with political, idealogical delusions.  Many millions believe that we have the "greatest country in the world".  Many also believe that we have the most freedom.  Many have drunk, multigenerationally, at the Kool-Aid stand of delusion.   So much so, that too many will never find themselves able or willing to open their minds.  They live a life of drudgery and misery and actually bask, unwittingly, in the pain of it all.

The multinational military, industrial, financial matrix, chiefly owned by the 700 or so families which hold and control over eighty percent of the assets of the world economy, have ingrained through the socio political mechanisms in place from the various organs of brainwashing used for centuries, the beliefs that drive and maintain their business plan.  As I, and many others have communicated, this is no conspiracy, no power oligarchy.  Very simply, this is a business plan that has evolved since the advent of commerce and money. 

In this seemingly mindless drive to maintain itself, millions and millions-WTF-BILLIONS-waste their entire lives pursuing lesser dreams and fantasies fueled by the amorphous dream machine of global society.  Those that achieve their goals corroborate the delusion that perpetuates the tragedy of it ALL.

Religions, politics, and more sadly-in most cases-education, keep this business plan alive and well, not to mention, "evolving" to maintain and perpetuate the inequitabilities inherent in the system. 

The sad fact remains that we have agreed to this shit.  Almost all of us believe the canons of this set of delusions.  Even when our national economy virtually collapses for a few months and the fetid, decadent, banking system shows its true colors, we still keep hoping that our old means of propping up the economy will continue to work and revitalize itself.  We have very little to gain us a renewable economy with new, sustainable industries.  The 700 families continue to flourish, in spite of their asset reductions.  They intermarry and "outbreed", initiating their next generations into the matrix of control.   Some even think they have philanthropic, humanitarian motives!  The fact that some individuals become the biggest billionaires who came from nothing, fuels the entreprenural delusion that everyone has a chance, despite the overwhelming fact that many millions will continue to fail because it the resources for success have very limited access.  In the end, most of those who have made it-the vast majority-will do whatever it takes to maintain and increase their fortunes. 

Many millions of us will toil and die in inadvertantly aiding them do these very things.  We will do it in the name of our nationalistic bullshit beliefs.  We will do it in the name of the failed enterprise of nuclear family.  We will do it in the name of non existent Gods and self limiting religions.  We will canonize the stupid and the foolish, and make heroes of mass murderers.  We will continue to perpetuate the nightmares while remaining pawns in the morass of the matrix keeping the wealth of those who have away from those who made it for them and buy into the marketing dreams rarely achieved en masse.

So, while we feel sorrow at the great losses and continuing tragedy of it all, and want to hate and destroy the ENEMIES WE HAVE MADE(or better still, allowed the contrivance of), thinking that our wrong headedness seems preferable to their wrong headedness, we must note that too many have bought the whole spoiled package for over two hundred years.
 

We slog forward while forty million of us live in poverty and while too many have bought into the propaganda perpetuated by the associated health care industries, including the slimy pirates in the insurance industry.  We have bought in so deeply that most will not receive the medical and dental care they deserve because of the shareholders of the hospital, pharmaceutical, and insurance industries need to have their profits by feeding off of the masses like a great parasite, incurable, and fatal.  Human life has great value when the bills can be paid and over price services and products can be utilized for profit.

While we extol the heroism of those who involved themselves in the rescue of people in this tragedy, we put the blame on the terrorism on all of us for not being responsible enough to keep the Corporatists of the Military Industrial Complex in check and nullified so that we would not be the target of extremists.  The acts of terroism that these interest have perpetrated over our two hundred year history are heinous and not above reproach.  It is amazing that we haven't suffered more tragedy.

        

Sooner or later the social matrix will come up with new sub species names.

Of late, in the last few years, we have the emergence of drama queens, skanks, and etc. We think we have come to a new term...BROOD SLUT.

Old hounds like Mondo have been known to haunt malls for more reasons than shopping.  For the mature MAN, they have a much greater advantage than bars and clubs, as we can excel in our day game with the sincere and unintoxicated younger woman.  When these women see and understand the HIGHER VALUE of the experienced, virile, older man as they can grow greatly as lovers and free thinkers from such a liaison.

Of course, these perambulations  to obtain new f--k partners require a fair amount of observation and discovery so as not to hook up with the softer, easier prey-usually "victims" of the proverbial "train wreck", or worse, the PLANE CRASH.  

Train wreck, in the social vernacular, refers to a person with a long list of personal problems that result in bad behaviors that cannot seemed stemmed, even by conventional "harm reduction" strategies.  Nothing short of a belief system make over will suffice here.  Most will not have the self understanding and self acceptance to know this as their solution, so they remain as lost causes, especially for the older Alpha Male.  We old dogs don't have time for large project undertakings, only young, smart, childless, beautiful women who want to expand their sensual and intellectual horizons in a way that we older Alphas can provide.

To a further extreme, we have the PLANE CRASH variety of female whom upon a quick glance will show even the young dufus, gamma male her propensity for harm and tragic circumstance.  We name this PLANE CRASH since we have no survivors in this interaction.  In fact, the doom seems immanent...a prime social metaphoric example has to do with falling in love with a crack whore.

After many hours of observation in malls, particularly those in the lower middle class sloburbian areas(that's right, cities have two distinct regions: URBANIA and SLOBURBIA.  The latterly giving the least probability of sophistication and intellectual, sexual diversity), we have found a stratum of young women we hence forward will name-BROOD SLUT.

These young women have one to three young children and are usually under the age of 25.  In most circumstances, the children have come from unwed circumstances wherein the father, usually a young, shit head, male with no real value other than as a source of viable semen, has never, and will never be involved in child rearing.  In a fair number of cases, paternity must be proven as the mother has uncertainty about which rooster the offspring came from.  Many times, she may have been fucking two or more males in the same span of fertile days without effective birth control.  This type of female seems completely ruled by her biology, much the same way as pets do who need neutering.  By the same fashion the feral, immature males who contributed the sperm for the spawning adventures share in the responsibility, but as all they have to pack around is external genitalia, they can make hasty retreats into more willing vaginas and intoxicants.

Typically, the BROOD SLUT does nothing to stem the pregnancies or the cause of them, as she still has the programming from religion or her mother that says all life is sacred and that procreation is ordained by a non existent deity.  Because of her lack of knowledge and/or stupidity, she will plop out any number of infants before getting sterilized.  Many of them will have children from two or more fathers. Probably we are fortunate that almost all of them are not on fertility drugs.  While Mondo is not a huge proponent of marriage and the nuclear family, he is even less so of the intentional spawning of bastards who will go fatherless and without the benefit of the paternal extended family.

Also, we have seen that in a majority of these women, they are uneducated and unskilled and so cannot engage in gainful employ-this might suggest that widespread legalization of prostitution may have great benefit in the economy of these BROOD SLUTS having self supporting capability rather than remaining on welfare or getting state aid.

Mondo wholeheartedly believes that sex without marriage has great merit and also that marriage is not the "successful" social contract we once thought it.  He also thinks that breeding for the sake of satisfying a biological urge which degrades the lives of all involves borders on the criminal.

In this knowledge, we stay vigilant and observant of the presence and activity of this socially pervasive monster.

        

It felt like a dream. The horned figure had a swirling darkness about him. A subsonic noise accompanied the motion of that swirling nimbus. I had awakened in a cold sweat pervaded by fear. It would take the essence of me to a hell, a hell I had gotten warnings about...

I knelt down in the park that day and accepted Jesus Christ, reluctantly, as my personal Lord and Savior. The young man who preached the promises of Pentecost to me had pursued me through my curiosities about his cultist view of Christianity relentlessly-he had to win souls for his Lord. It had a great air of suggestion and seduction that drew me in to some degree, against my will. The insurance policy of "salvation" filled the shards of my miscreant Catholic indoctrinations with what seemed an unassuageable feeling akin to guilt. This seemed an opportunity on which I could not miss out.

I had gone to their church-the "Phoenix Light Temple"-many times in that year-1972. My curiosity allowed me to join in. I studied the Bible from page one of Genesis-King James version. They believed in a selection of tracts from Daniel through the Book of Acts. The cult fancied themselves-as many had-as a modern day priesthood of Melchizedek. They believed themselves the chosen of Jesus, saving the lost youth from the Satanic seductions of sex, drugs, and Rock and Roll. The more souls they saved, the more rewards in Heaven.

When I read Biblical myths, they tried to tell me a different story. A story I wouldn't understand until the passage of many years and the gnosis of all my religious mythos adventures gave me a sense of direct experience. The direct experience of my divinity and the divinity of all life.

This had come to me in having the expanded consciousness experiences in psychedelia. Experiences that can come with LSD and Mescaline-by the time I got to Psilocybin, I had fried those circuits, so the 'shrooms didn't have much effect, even in almost toxic dosage. These experiences constitute what Timothy Leary described in his Eight Circuit Model of Consciousness as the Seventh and Eight Circuits.

The Seventh Circuit leaves the psychonaut most susceptible to the suggestions and indoctrinations of the religious cultists since it tries to explain the sensations of infinite connectedness as a union with God through Jesus that needs to get purified and sanctified by making him the channel-the only channel-to divine salvation.

The wonder and awe of the my psychedelic experiences overwhelmed me and left me open to suggestion. I almost had a sense of feeling lost and alone that seemed permanent.

Finally, the curse completed itself when I went to the Phoenix Light Temple a short time after my "conversion". I received the "Baptism of the Holy Spirit". It came when the leader, an middle aged blond woman-an Amy Semple McPherson type charismatic-laid hands on me and the entire congregation prayed and sang in tongues while she exorcised me and filled me with the "rush of Living Waters".

It remains as a sensation I will never forget...




Next they introduced me to a pretty young blonde woman. She would be my girlfriend and later my wife. I worked for the city in the parks and recreations dept-the church consistently urged me to give twenty five percent as tithe to the church. I could move into their commune if I couldn't make my bills at home.

I went to church on Wednesdays only. I didn't give the tithe, didn't cut my hair. The blonde was sweet and cute, but I didn't like anyone choosing my mates. I read the Bible and studied with these folks. The concept entered me deeply that if I didn't believe the salvation concept, I would be damned. I lived a chaste life for a couple of years. I stopped the use of all drugs, including alcohol, for six months. I got away from the Phoenix Light Temple at that time and developed my own faith in Christianity.(They cursed me when I left-almost all the congregation eventually left. The woman preacher got caught by law enforcement praying over the long dead body of her father-she'd been hauling him around for several months trying to do the Lazarus trip with him)



I went back to the chemical side of my addiction. Drugs and Jesus didn't mix well. Jesus didn't mix well. The ideals he preached, ultimately, wound up too inhuman, too unattainable, too full of angst. A Baptist Minister I had conversations with told me I must have a bad Jesus-I needed to get a good Jesus. A Jesus of Love. It ended with the fact that there occur too many saviors. I needed to save myself. That would take another twenty years...oi!

Years later, I began to see the Gnostic messages in the New Testament and their transcendental meanings, but was still plagued by the beliefs of the evils of the flesh. The whole thing got very wrong. The more I studied, the more I could see that a common thread existed through all the religions and that a loving god would save everything and everyone, regardless.

I developed a huge case of self righteous indignation. I judged the behaviors of everyone so as to negate them and exclude them. I wanted desperately to leave the superstitious, religious fears of Christianity behind and have a true, free wheeling spirituality. Secretly, I knew that hedonism had much more merit. Still, I kept the safe card of repentance in my back pocket, in case death would be near. The Baptist told me that it didn't matter-once I got saved, I would go to heaven, no matter what.

The change began when I returned to the eastern philosophies. I re-embraced Zen and discovered Taoism and Neo Taoism. I starting tossing the coins for I Ching. One reading in particular, a six hexagram read, told me that my life would change and that I would pursue a whole new path, leaving the past behind. That happened in 1985, this whole thing had started in 1972.



I got clean in 1987, after another near fatal overdose, complete with near death experience(I had several in the two years previous-IV drug use can do that). When I got into recovery(at first a ridiculous variety, then strictly NA), I parroted what I heard around me since I had accepted that the "suggestions" of the program helped people stay clean. I had been having uncontrollable paranoid hallucinations for about a year previous and desperately wanted them to go away. They did, about forty five days into complete abstinence, and have never returned.

After a time, I found myself parroting the "God talk" of "recovery". Much of this had to do with memes like, "everything happens for a reason", "that's the way God wants it", "its God's will", "everything is the way it supposed to be", and etc...I don't remember all of these, since they wind up almost completely erroneous and inane. Most of the other memes have to do with Calvinist ideas of predestination...you know, "God has a plan for my life", prefaced with "God only wants the best for me"...

Reality and its rational observation, will consistently negate all the above nonsense. At about eight years into all this, that knowledge presented itself regularly. The god shit works like another type of dope. When I would see people, immersed in their faith-obviously having a right temporal lobe euphoric experince of bliss-they looked just like a dope fiend having a euphoric experience. This seemed very similar to the experience I had when having full release orgasms, or enkephalin release after exercise. In my early recovery I got this right away, as I went to the gym regularly before meetings and experienced my enkephalin high during meetings. Thus, the experiences got anchored with the god talk to some degree...


Still, the God crap had shards of inanity in my conscience. I felt guilty for doing human things like beating off or fucking. In the back of my mind there seemed a force for Universal Good. This had the taint of Christian morality on it. Around me I saw the hypocrisy and incongruity of those trying to live that way.

In the third step of the NA Program, I adopted a Higher Power that had such enormity that the word God seemed and inadequate description. With no gender or persona, I called this an IT. Needless to say, the other shit remained to some degree, it formed a part of my low self esteem matrix.

In 1991, I got introduced to Wicca by an old friend who urged me to go to a study group called "Wisdom Warriors". (there's a couple of former members on my friends list here). Previous to this I had gotten less and less theistic and more and more to believe that this Higher Power thing seemed like more of a process than an entity with a Greater Consciousness. All the religions, on a good day, could work as vehicles to transcendence-stimulating the part of the brain that deals with esoteric experiences.

I met one of my Lady Babalons at these meeting and we did the whole relationship deal and are still friends to this day, still having a on and off sexual relationship. During that time, we endeavored upon sex magic and some of its Tantric aspects. I didn't really believe in God and Goddess except for their archetypal significance. After that relationship changed and I moved on, I got involved with Ceremonial Magic-Thelema and Golden Dawn.

In the Golden Dawn, and subsequently the Order of the Rosy Cross, I worked with esoteric Christianity and Judaism. I learned the Kabbalah and Hermetics and am still active on these levels today.


In 1993, I got immersed in the pursuit of Chaos Magic. I had done my magical workings eclectically for some time and adopting and learning the generalist approach-Metaparadigmal approach if you will, seemed a natural progression. That coupled with attaining the trance states of Shamanism seemed to cause great growth in me.

Finally, I would get accepted into an organization as such and went to an open meeting in California. At that meeting, the setting had a bizarre setting and circumstances. Black Sabbath played on the stereo in the background, chiefly songs dealing with devotion to the Devil. The VHS, on continuous replay, showed clips from various snuff films and suicides.

People wandered about and conversed in a very intellectual fashion about many subjects-chiefly in the Post Modernist or Chaoist point of view. The subjects ranged from discussions on various magical traditions and the sciences and quantum physics. When the rituals for the evening started, they did a simple banishing and opened with the Invocation of Chaos and transitioned to the Invocation of Baphomet.

While participating in this, people began to chant to the drum beats, "Io Baphomet, Hail Satan, Ave Satanas", and etc. Even in my tranced out state, this freaked me out. I didn't realize that the process of deprogramming my white lighter beliefs had progressed. My mind did a fast rewind to an exorcism that I took and active part in at Mountain Temple(see my friends list).

A topless dancer showed up almost begging for help saying that Abbadon, aka Leviathan, possessed her and that it was driving her nuts. She looked like she'd been doing some speed to me. So Hi Magus Bullshit, a Satanist friend, and myself did an exorcism based on the old Catholic rite. I could handle the White Lighter part but the Satanist told me that he would eat the demon and take on its characteristics. Anyway, it wound up with her getting into the hot tub, naked, and finally pissing all over us-releasing the demon? I felt like something had forever changed in me from that point on. I would have to lose my superstitious religious fears if I wanted to grow.

The experience at the Chaos Magic meeting showed me what needed to happen. So I spent the next several months cleaning out the old programming and replacing it with new meta beliefs.

About ten years ago, it finally struck me that I no longer believed in a God or Gods. I could invoke Gods as "archetypes" and install their characteristics for whatever purposes. I could get possessed by the entity, and use this to accomplish acts of magic, and this all happens in the mind and can manifest otherwise. The only rule seems that there are no rules. Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted.

Also, I began to see that entities seem to come out of the people that believe in them as group minds. Some, such as my selves, like to call them egregores. They get made up of the characteristics and energies given them by their creators. As some observation can elucidate, these may or may not have a useful ordering, and may have developed sentience, thus confounding the matter in many cases. This all gets more and more speculative and hence interesting to some. I will not elaborate here as many others have written extensively on the subject.

Now, I call myself a non theistic skeptic-I think the term atheist gets too self limiting. For me to believe that a Supreme Being or Identity rules the Universe, limits me too much and does not adequately characterize observable phenomena. Humankind created the God concept. Aleister Crowley had some plausibility when he wrote that there is no God but Man.


I have not prayed in years. There's nothing that exists pray to. I can invoke and use the characteristics and the attendent energies, more effectively than the results prayers ever gave. I can evoke new entities to perform tasks as well. There's no need for worship. No need for Christianity or other worn out religions. Unfortunately, atheist humanism consists mostly of the tired ethics of secular, apologetic Christianity and other almost useless trancendentalisms thus giving little value in moving forward.

I believe that my "self" has several parts or "selves" for utilization in different circumstances. These parts can combine their efforts synergistically to give greater effect. In effect, we have the greater multiverse to farm for an abundant life!

I am certain that most all of us can save ourselves from the tyranny of self limiting beliefs to enjoy the beauty of the eternity of any moment and create joy and abundance freely, despite the suffering and pain that also come in a live well lived.

Have a great week!!!!

        

Right now, think of your three most important desires-the ones that you want most in your life. Intensify them and hold them in your mind.

Now, we visualize ourselves relaxed,standing outside staring at the clear night sky. At about 45 degrees above our level vision we see a bluish white, distant star. The star now starts moving toward us. Its image enters the top our heads and our three desires start circling it very quickly until they almost become ablur. The star now supernovas; exploding itself and the desires.

After the explosion clears, everything reforms and we explode it twice more.The star now moves into our hearts with the desires, and repeats the same process three times.

The star reforms with desires spinning around it in front of our faces. We send it back to its original position in the beautiful night sky...

If you wish, let me know what happens over the next few weeks.

        

Every day he saw her at work.  A tall woman, about six-one, late thirties, blond with highlights, a nice figure.  She looked into his balls when they locked eyes; they locked eyes and said hello every morning as he'd walk to the coffee station in the back of the factory.This happened every day for about four years now.

The coffee made the walk worthwhile.  Damned good stuff that-he couldn't understand why people would buy the high priced junk that didn't taste as good.  At any rate, he'd get a nice peek at her and she waited to see him every day.

The looks they gave each other said, "Given the opportunity, I will fuck your brains out."

His personal policy of "don't fuck women you work with" grated him on this one, because he saw that she just wanted great sex and they both could see that would happen, no hitches.

When he had regular lovers, she could tell that he'd been fucking that morning(most women who have sexual awareness can).  He loved to fuck in the morning and didn't like the drive by, fuck and run, night time excursion.  Sex works as a several hour exercise in closeness and intimacy for him.  She could tell because she likes it that way and can sense it about a man.  She didn't want baggage, didn't have baggage,and could see that he didn't also.  She made a lot of opportunities,that weren't too obvious, to come to his office.

They both liked the tension and both fantasized in the way that mature people do.  She saw in her mind and felt in her body what she'd do to him and what she'd like him to do to her.  His imagination worked like a porno movie or other videos he had on his home computer.  Her touch and her kiss would tell him most of what he wanted to know.  He hoped that she had a lot of joint flexibility.

Once upon a summer Thursday, in late afternoon, they happened upon each other in the break room.  She had just clocked out.  She looked at the bulletin board at some furniture a co worker had for sale.  He had just pulled a soda from the vending machine.  He was winding down himself. All the managers had gone to an off site meeting, so there was time to chit chat.  She asked him about the furniture.

"What do you think about the sofa?", she wanted to talk about more than that.

"It's in good shape, according to Reena, but I don't like the color.  Do you like it?"

"Not too much, but it has great cushioning and its a seven foot seating area.  Its cheap for new stuff and I could cover it.  I can lay down and watch movies on a piece like this.  The piece I have now is only a six footer."

She craned her head waiting for his five eleven response.

"Do you watch a lot of movies?"

"Yes...", she paused and smiled, craning her head the opposite direction.

"I do too.  What kind do you like?"

"I like period films and foreign films, especially French films and Italian art films."

"So, you like Chabrol and Truffaut, maybe Godard?"

She smiled and nodded, leaned forward a bit, opened her long arms and legs.  His blood flow changed and she smiled at him again.

"Fellini?"

"Fellini is my favorite!"

She beamed now and a slight flush came to her ruddy complexioned face.

"Do you want to get a beverage and talk some more?"

He wasn't even sure she was single.  He'd never asked and she wore rings on different fingers on different days.

"I would."

He thought he felt her temperature change.  Both of them had gotten visibly excited.

They met at coffee bistro close to where he lived that also served wine and beer.  They discovered that neither one of them drank.  Their conversation had a lot of short sentences that accentuated the body language.

"It sounds like you have a great foreign DVD collection, I'd like to check it out."

She delivered this like a question.

"Lets go to my house right now.  Follow me..."

He paused.

"OK!", she got up, he opened the door for her both at the bistro and for her car.

"I knew you were a gentleman.  Is there a grocery store close to where you live?" 

 He nodded. She liked to cook and so did he.  They'd talked about cooking. 

When they got to his place, he put away the groceries she'd picked out and he told her she could show herself around.  She did and liked everything very much, even his decor-not bad for masculine stuff with a flavor of the occult.

She cooked him her version of veal with Carbonara sauce with soy pasta.  They drank carbonated fruit juices from wine goblets and chatted.  After finishing and loading the dishwasher, they retired to his sofa and he put in "Fellini's Satryicon" at her request.  They both loved the movie. 

The viewing didn't last, and by 830PM, the movie was still running and they had moved into his bedroom.  They stripped on entry, clothes on the floor, and continued the kissing and caressing which began during the movie. 

They squeezed, kneaded, massaged, light touched, kissed the special spots they had shared with each other...she stopped him.  He could smell the "I have perspired and worked in the factory ten hours today"on her, but didn't care; he kind of liked that taste he sampled in her pussy, the sight of which drove him wild and made his cock drip and throb to half hardness.

She got up, looked at him hungrily, lust that sustains, on her face," Join me in that nice, big, walk in shower of yours?"

"Sure."

He got out some fresh towels, large and fluffy.  She had found all the nice soaps he had, and the washing accessories.  She was lathered up and smiling when he got in.  She sat on the bench washing her vulva,smiling at him while he stretched his scrotum and pulled the length of his cock out, soaping them.

"You got a spare razor?"

He handed her one the razors he kept for over nighters.  Disposable five bladed for women.

She shaved her underarms, her long athletic legs, her pussy, just to the top of her labia where she kept a nice tuft of brownish blond hair-strangely enough long and silky, soft textured and fine.  Her labia looked freshly waxed, as was her asshole.

"Scrub my back please.", he asked nicely.

"One condition, you do mine too..."

They finished and rinsed.  She bent down, took him in her mouth and got him rock hard, almost painful.  He caressed the sides of her cheeks while she sucked.

"Pull down on my sac while you suck."

"Your cock is beautiful!  Just right.  Thick and hard.  I love the purple head color.  Your balls are HUGE!"

"Wait'll I slap them full bore against your ass!"

Getting out of the shower they dried thoroughly.  They walked into the kitchen, got water to drink and bring with them.

They got back on the sheets and began slow kissing and sucking.  He got down on her, tongue massaged her clit, and fingered g-spot, getting her to a squirt.  She had done that before and loved it.  As she started another, he got to his knees, slowly entered her and tilted her legs up, straight above her head so he could pound the head of his dick softly into the spot.  Juice covered him, and she moaned and screamed loudly, coming very hard a few times.

"Fuck yeah!"

He began stroking her hard and slow with a lot of friction.  He looked at the clock-1030PM. WTF, both of them were on vacation for a week.  No worries, no outstanding appointments or obligations for the weekend. He drove slow into her and she pushed back hard over him.  The talked at each other with the nastiest, dirtiest comments.  He looked back at the clock-11:1106PM.

"Hey clock watcher!", she laughed and rolled him over on his back, propped his head on down pillows and mounted him. 

She got down in his face and rubbed her hard nipples lightly on his chest, kissing him fiercely but tenderly with perfect tongue, while she gave him the close, woman on top, hard fuck for who knows how many,long strokes.  She had the perfect body for this and seemed limber to a fault.  She got up on her knees and leaning back, rolled her hips, deep stroking the head of his cock into her favorite spots while fingering her clit.  He caressed her sides and squeezed her breasts-rolling her nipples at the same time.

Every time the come would start to rise up his shaft, her vaginal muscles squeezed the ring of his cock head while she paused her stroking.

Finally he spoke up.

"Merrilee, its time I came hard in you.  Get on your knees and bend forward, please."

"OK, fuckman! Make it worth my while!"

It seemed like she had hesitation about his fifty something ejaculation.

"You think I will be spent and not be able to do it again for a couple of days?"

She laughed gut deep and stroked him hard for a couple of minutes,letting the come rise again.  This time, he stopped her as she came again, and got her to roll over and prop her ass in the air, on her knees with her face buried in the pillow.  He slapped her ass hard several times with his purpled, venous cock before he entered her vulva slowly with just the head, several times.  He began plunging her to his hilt, hard and slow, until he found the pace that had made her come several times this night.  She came twice and then he quickened hi space to energizer bunny on methamphetamine plus speed, and as the come got to the head of his cock for a ball sac emptying series of squirts,he slowed to her orgasm pace and brought her in while he let go,spasming and squirting uncontrollably.

He didn't stop all the way and as his strokes slowed, he pulled out,and used his come and her squirt mix to lube her clean asshole for another round of pounding.

They both came hard again and passed out-it had gotten on to 2AM.

They woke again at nine, fucked the morning away, ate, went back to bed, showered, fucked again, very slowly and deliberately, like a couple who doesn't have to be in love, but whom everyone thinks must certainly be married.

This lasted in variations too nice to tell, for another three days and nights.

They took a two day break, watched movies, went out to eat, drove to the White Mountains where it was cool and had rained all summer at 8,000 feet.  The room was nice at the lodge.  They walked the lake,found a secluded spot to spread the blanket and fuck, but they got tired and winded from the thin air, so they laughed and went back to the room to sleep.

The next week they were back at work acting as if nothing had happened.

The fun lasted two more years, averaging a couple of weekends a month and one vacation a year.  She always came to his house or they went out of town to a nice hotel.  She didn't want her twenty two year old daughter to know much other than she had a lover.  He didn't want his other lovers to know about her and didn't care if she had other lovers.

Years after they had left the job for more exciting careers, they got together sporadically to enjoy each other usually with smiles, good conversation, and movies, lots of French and Italian-with the occasional Spaniard thrown in-movies.

Movies...


©2009mhumunculero

        

PLAY THIS, AND READ, PLEASE:
 





The swim took a very long time, but he did not feel in the least exhausted. Rising up out of the lake and reaching shore, he shook of the water like a wet dog, and his skin began to immediately dry. His clothes sat on a rock on the shore, and as he put them on, he looked into the eastern sky at the sliver of a waning moon and the thousands of stars twinkling.

He repeated his mantra, "Tekli-li" to gain bearing and to right himself. His eyes sparkled with the reflections of the myriad of stars in the sky. His hair was black and down his back, parted in the middle, almost too coarse for a human. His eyes were black also, seemingly with no pupils. His skin seemed swarthy and thick, light olive colored. He had heavy muscles and a bit of a paunch which told that he might be older than he looked.

His Jeep seemed undisturbed, having been parked there several days. He pulled the keys from his pockets and began his drive home. As he drove he grunted the mantra loudly and it made his skin tingle, like after a huge meal.

Up on the mountain, Dorsad looked down upon the city. No one knew about the lake. He'd caused its appearance some seven years ago.

"Dorr, HONEY! Come back to bed. My ass feels cold without yours on me."

She slept back to back with him, usually, otherwise, she would have to sleep with him inside her, cranking him incessantly throughout the night. He didn't mind as he remained hard, and slept through it mostly, but it drove her nympho-crazy.

"Goddamn it Dawn! I have more work to do, put some bottoms on and get some sleep, baby."

She did her little whiny whimper and pulled the covers over her. He didn't like covers. They made him sweat, even in winter.

He stirred the vortex in his mind. The Blind Mad One-the Crawling Chaos spewed unintelligible mumbling in the background of another dimension, intruding his thoughts.

A great black nimbus surrounded him with a purple glow around the edges. It looked like a luminous black egg to the ones that could see it.

Not many of us around those days...

Someone had a plan to save everyone and it irritated him. Saving too many meant too many breeding, and gaining too many more, and while the feed on that seemed enticing, it gave energy heartburn with little relief. Better to send them to the deep for the Children of Dagon.

He set a plan for the Shoggoth Lord. He would enact it over the next two weeks.

He pulled off his boxers and stood by the bed, looking at her. Fuck! She had gotten more alluring, more beautiful with every passing day. His penis stood up straight, pulsing, growing...now the head bifurcated and split again, now having four heads with snaky, growing shafts. He crawled in next to her. She smelled the musky odors of his beastly, pre ejaculation fluids. One penis tendril invaded her mouth, while another invaded her asshole, driving up a bit too far for immediate comfort. The third began lightly penetrating her pussy, and the fourth wavered in the air awaiting its eventual destination in her left hand. No sleep for Dawn tonight...



For the rest of this night/early morning, the fourth penile tendril divided at the glands into a thousand tiny tentacles that caressed every inch of Dawn while the other three appendages worked their magical sexings. It seemed like one continuous set of progressive orgasms. Fluid exuded and squirted and reabsorbed before it could dry.

She would sleep through the next afternoon.

The Shoggu found his way into the seemingly abandoned warehouse that Dorsadd owned. He found his ten meter diameter pool, bottomless to a human observer, but just enough for his sleeping. He entered the pool sans clothing, and spread out over the surface, now in blackening opalescence, in an eight meter spheroid with myriad eyes on the surface. Seemingly, the wicked can get a greater rest.

In the sleep that came upon Dorsadd, while Dawn had gone into the cocoon of his penile appendages, a great murmur in a barbaric stream of thought, like a language, came into his mind like a dream of the one who lies sleeping in the sunken city of R'yleh.

The dream told of many other humanoid inhabited worlds where the feast of other aeons evolved. The feedings lasted but an eye like blink for these elder god forms, but seemed like generations to those more finite.

In the bottomless, blackened water tank, the Shoggu rippled, eyes opening and closing on his tarry looking, amorphous surface. The dream translated from Dorsadd to him as a hunger to find itself sated later. As people joined and coupled throughout this night, the Shoggu fed for the Blind Mad One on their ecstasy. He would walk the streets tomorrow and see them move about as though nothing had changed.

"Dorr, look at the news. People seem to be disappearing all over the world."

Dawn watched the big screen. Dorr looked out of his great room windows at the valley below and the city. He did not respond to her statement. She ought to be sleeping again.

A bus stopped in front of the warehouse. Fifty or more homeless people filed out and into the double door side opening.

"I can smell the food, I am so hungry."

The fiftyish looking man, medium height, unshaven, unkempt, in dirty clothes, looked at the woman beside him.

"I am just tired, so very tired..."

She spoke well, very educated in tone. He couldn't see her face. Her salt and pepper hair, which hung matted to the middle of her back, completely obscured it. If he would have cared to uncover it, he would see the beauty that still haunted anyone that could see it.

"The driver says we have beds and showers. I will wash my hair and clean my nails and sleep."

He could smell her. He loved the stench, but his hunger overcame his rising hard on.

Some of the rest of the rag tag riders mumbled to each other. They looked beaten by life; wanton for work, for a home, for a rest, for food.

The locker rooms came up in the distance on either side of a hallway that led to the larger room where the great tank sat.

A large scrolling, LCD sign, four feet high, ten feet long, passed the message.

"If you want to eat and sleep-shower and change clothes."

A soothing deep voice repeated these words as strange sounds emanated in the background. Oddly enough, no one hesitated. They entered the locker rooms, shed their clothing and went to the showers. They paid no attention to the men and women signs. Some even scrubbed each others' backs. The stench and grime of their hopeless lives foamed off them and went down the drains.

The warm water gave off a steamy mist. Shampoo was provided and all finished washing themselves in the soft water which left no residues. Their skins felt soft and sounded squeaky to the touch.

They filed out without toweling or dressing, into the hallway toward the pool to the loud, but unobtrusive sounds of the mantra "Tekli-li".

Soon a couple began handling each other and a massive orgy ensued with all the possible combinations of sexes, positions, hands to orfice, and genitalia to genitalia. This happened over several minutes, and slowly they began to move, a few at a time, into the pool. None of them noticed the immediate disappearance of those preceding. Soon they had all disappeared and the Shoggu rose to the surface, eyes goggling and sparkling in the low light of the room.

As the homeless came to the city, they accumulated, they came to his pool, and into the interdimensional maw of The Old Ones that created him.

In over a hundred thousand other locations, the other Shoggu, operated by beings like Darsad, did similarly. This would open the gateways, as in so many other worlds, and this world would become almost vacant of humans until they could breed up again...

I looked at her over the breakfast I had just made.

She had a way of eating that I loved to watch. We had spent long hours in conversation. We had a damned good friendship. We shared dreams and fantasies with each other-especially magical things. For the past couple of months we have had the same dreams and fantasies without discussing them. We avoided those topics. Damn, I hate that. It usually means love.

She looked like a Strega Witch in denim. Long, black, wavy hair, light olive skin, medium height-I never ask and just figure that she's about three inches from my height. Her big, slightly slanted eyes have the blue green irises flecked with brown, like a weird hazel cast. She had on a fair amount of jewelry: pendants, rings, beads, and bracelets. Usually, that works like a turn off with me, but in her case it adds fuel to the fire. I hate body ink, but on her I get aroused by it.

I don't like to write about her body when I don't have her in close proximity. Needless to say, since we've started a sexual liaison, in addition to our deep friendship, we have trouble keeping our hands off each other. When we touch...and that seems like all we have to do...the ecstasy starts and we couple for days and nights, and lately, it has been weeks at a time. I don't like to ejaculate much with her, as our sex gives me body orgasms that reverberate in the four worlds-not to mention some other places. I anchored her clitoris on our first encounter and pleasured her without entering her or putting my mouth on her for, shit, I don't know how long. Who cares about the time spent when the feelings and sensations get that intense?

This all got started after a long conversation with some mutual friends and acquaintances with which we have a weekly discussion group about things that wax occult. Eventually, after discoursing in such groups, over the years, people will get around to presenting their theories of everything. In this group, it seemed no different. The man who always has the most obtuse, if not poignant, observations about reality and things that wax open to conjecture, pointed out that the whole of biology on our world may have to do with other sentient races harvesting our energy or bodies, or both, and that the larger our populations get, the more bounty for the farmer species.

"Marty, what did your dream look like? Do you remember the plot?"

She looked at me like a mate, a lover through a thousand incarnations. My eyes teared. I would get distracted by this from her questions. I loved so much about her that it got damned hard to not get carried away emotionally and back into the ecstasy of it all.

"Sirena..." Fuck, she has the goddamn name too. I might start spacing out for days again...

This happened in two heart beats, "I had the Shoggoth Lord dream again. The pools. The people arriving in buses. The man and his lover in the mountain chateau..."

She interrupted, "ONLY THIS TIME...,"

She got loud in my face, I wanted to take her back to bed and fuck her very hard-jackhammer, porn style, something we rarely did.

"YOU...", she trailed off now and stuttered, "You and I floated on top of the Shoggu. We fucked, and fucked, and fucked, never getting tired. I got that set of feelings that we both say have an eternal quality...as though we could feel that!"

She smirked. My dick got painfully hard and weepy, fucking up my work slacks. She knew this usually happened to me. Her smirk turned to an I love you more than can be said, smile.

"Yeah. We woke up fucking honey..."

She interrupted again, "You told me the 'L' word..." I looked at her, about ready to weep. What the fuck! I usually feel very powerful in my adorations of her and my regard for her.

"Sirena...", I looked at her with the, I am about to call-in-sick-to-work eyes. I paused, the tears ran down my face and my voice got embarrassingly choked up.

"Sirena, I love you...".

She stopped me before I could get too carried away. "Marty, I love you more every day. You know that. I feel like we are one person, but two separate people. I didn't really want this friendship to turn into this..."

I stopped her now, "It's ok, lets not define this. That always fucks everything up."

I got up, ran to the bedroom, changed pants and boxers, kissed her long and deep.

"Baby, I am going to work now so I don't get in late."

"I know. You hate that. We have to finish talking about this tonight."

"Yes we do. I have some ideas about some actions we can take. I think what we see in these dreams has reality to it.."

"Go to work, Marty!"

She loved to get smartass commanding. She got that little coy thing going. She bent over so I could see her breasts, teasing me again.

"We will talk, eat, take action..."

She completed my sentence, "And you will get lucky..."

I bolted out the door into my car and off to work.


When I got home that night, I found her dancing naked in the great room. She had black candles burning in the corners and a strange, baneful incense burning. I had never smelled it before. I sat on the floor and watched her dance. She continued as if I wasn't there...



I focused completely on every move Sirena made. I felt arousal on all levels.

She made an invocation or two, came over to me, ran her hands all over me and began to kiss me. I couldn't tell, I think I had already gone into a trance. I didn't notice that she had my video cam on in the front of the room.

I remember her stripping me down and fellating me until I came very painfully. When I woke up, I found myself chained to the high backed, heavy framed bondage chair I had collected. Blood had been drawn from me and the sigil of Azathoth lay in front of me, stained with that blood. Sirena lay passed out in the corner, her legs spread, come dripping out of her. A light sweat covered her along with a mixture of semen, her fluids, and my blood. The video camera still ran in the corner.

"Honey, wake up!"

I raised my voice to the edge of a scream. I had to repeat myself several times before she began to come out of it. I visualized an inverted pentagram and hurled it into her heart chakra, and then an earth banishing hexagram filled with a mental movie mudra of the supreme banishing ritual. I didn't take any chances. I hated feeling chained and restrained. I could feel the Blind Mad One's presence still upon me. I felt like I could unravel the fabric of this world and consume its matter like a snack food.

She awakened finally.

"Fuck, baby. Get me out of these chains. You know how I can get..."

We had done this on more than one occasion before.

"Marty, I won't ever do this again. That was the scariest encounter I have done with any God in all my years of invocations. You will see when we watch the video."

She hurried to get me unchained. She got out the spray bottle and covered me again with Florida Water, but not before I asked her the obligatory questions. Clearly, she had been ridden by some God forms as well.

"What's your shoe size?"

She smiled at me, caressing, "Six and a half C."

"How tall are you"

"Five seven, barefoot..."

She kissed me, full of love.

I got smarmy.

"Who do you love?"

"You, handsome. You..."

She kissed me again. She took off the rest of the chains and unstrapped me from the chair and led me to the walk-in shower. We washed each other, hugged and kissed several times.

She put on my big, white, terrycloth robe. I dried with big bath towels, put on shorts and a T-shirt, and we walked back into the great room to click the hard drive on the cam and watch the video.

After she invoked the Crawling Chaos in the usual way, my head dropped to my heaving, sweating chest. She left the hoodwink on me. My body seemed to grow amorphously, straining the chains dangerously like I have never seen before. A deep growl emanated from an invisible nimbus around me and the chair. Heavy items in the room shook and rocked, windows rattled. The roof seemed like it wanted to come off and blow away. The chair began rocking and shaking and the screws and bolts loosened and tightened again and again. This went on for thirteen minutes as we ran it back and counted.

When the God settled into a writhing and slowed its glossolalia , she lay on the floor and began caressing herself. Soon she began to squirm and moan, plunging three fingers into her vagina in G Spot out strokes while the opposite hand's thumb flicked her clitoris very lightly, in the one o'clock position. Apparently, in the interim prior to this, she had fucked me after the blow job, adding a load of semen into her pussy along with another load she saved in a gold chalice full of the elixir from the blow job ejaculation she rose out of me. I got her to roll back the video to that point so I could get the full measure of the ecstasy...




She rode me.

My body had a misshapen appearance on the video. The whole scene of her on me in the chair had an eerie contrast to the rest of the surroundings. We seemed to ooze in and out of the room visible, not visible. She pounded on the God in me slow, and the presence, that invisible nimbus, seemed to envelop her and consume her. Almost like her entirety had become completely plastic and malleable, as though she had no skeleton.

She moaned and screamed. The noise from the wet genitals slapping each other in the furious pace that she kept, overtook all other sounds for awhile...I have never seen a woman jackhammer a man like that-pile drive seems more like it. Like she deliciously, efficiently, was wearing down the pillar of my cock in her. More it seemed, that she pounded on me than me pounding in her.

I felt astounded, wishing that I had a complete physical remembrance of the sensation.

"Sirenia, do you feel sore at all?"

Even though we could and did fuck for days and nights, in between what seemed like endless, sensual foreplay, I had trouble believing that the speed, the force, and the time length of the pounding she did on me wouldn't leave her sore as hell.

She smiled and winced. She grabbed my hands and swung herself over me as on the chair. She looked in my eyes and moved her hands in a very soft caress on my face and kissed me with affections that ran from my mouth to my brain, down the fat cable of my spine to my cock and balls, which lurched and swelled, aching, wanting to enter her and explode.

"Marty honey, I don't really remember this either. Now that we watch this, I wish I did. I remember invoking Azathoth as we have several times before, but I don't remember what happened after I invoked Lilith and Shub Niggroth..."

Her voice trailed off. I reached up with my head and neck, she bent down, and we kissed deeply and softly.

Fuck! I knew that this love had come as a decision for us, consciously. We had formed the entity that comes when magical partners join sexually in love. This entity had enormous power, as it drew all the energies of all our previous sexual experiences without the shadows of all our previous partners.

Neither of us had chronological youth.

We had both practiced the yogic disciplines of longevity: the spinning, the breath, the postures, the fires of the five ethers. She had done it for thirty years before she met me and I for almost the same. Her age in years is fifty nine and mine sixty seven. She looks mid twenties, and I, late thirties. Our eyes are clear. We have no wrinkles. We have high, but steady metabolisms that excrete all free radicals. We sleep eight to ten hours a day. We do magic separately and together daily. Every moment contains itself in the breathing that goes beyond pranayama. We breathe into what some would call the Akasha. Actually, it works more like the concept of the quantum vacuum.

The fuck scene continued with an almost unimaginable set of variations for just one position.

At the fifty minute mark...yes, I watched the timer when the fucking started...Sirenia began to call the God out to speak.

"Blind Mad One who joins me here, in the other dimension, and at the Chaos at the edge of this Universe, bring forth your mind and speak to me..."

He growled and the room vibrated sub sonically so hard that even through the sound system my organs hurt and my balls pulsed. I could feel his annoyance all the way beyond this Universe.

"Who calls me from sleep and fucks me, expecting to gain? What do you hope to gain, puny collective, from me, the sliming mud of pain and dissensions beyond these useless emanations?"

She quickened her pace as the God expanded into her, and probably into the Goddesses she had invoked into herself.

"Oh blackened slime like primordial mud, what will you tell these humans about their next evolution?"

She must have programmed that question into the multiple egregore she had invoked and morphed.

His growl became a painful subsonic deafening roar, "Why do you ask? It does not serve you well, unholy cuntess...", he trailed again expanding, as her pace in the fuck sped up further to a blur.

Her voice seemed a high frequency, fuck moaning vibrato.

"Tell me dark slime...let me fill the endless tunnels into my womb of death for these insignificant ones, so they may carry out your plans."

"They will seem like ten thousand hordes of your children, Goat woman. They will immanetize the eschaton..."

"How will the humans who can, who need to, know?"

Now the entire room seemed to fade into the invisible vibrations that disturbed the visual presence. It seemed that everything would fall apart and get sucked into a vortex that led to who knows where.

The chair, with her riding me, chained and strapped in, reappeared, and the grumbling voice in a fading, gutteral utterance almost whispered as the God faded vocally.

"Oh my sweet whore, you will see it in their eyes. Your children will see it..."

He went silent and Sirenia began to come in a series of orgasms that I am unfit to describe in the reverence they deserve. I cried watching her in this, and she kissed and tongued my tears, pausing the video to tell me she loved me. Oh, I do love her so...


"It's time for me to go on my forest trip with my women."

She lay beside me with her head on my chest, stroking the outlines of my ears. She knew what this does to my cock. She had all her own little anchors for my cock and desires for her. She installed them over a long period of years while we enjoyed our platonic friendship.

"So, how long have you to planned to make me your lover?"

I said this seemingly out of nowhere, but she expected comments like this from me, having known me long years.

"Marty...", she paused looked deep and intent into my core, "...why do you have to fuck with a moment like this?"

I didn't let her finish. I mounted her and began long, hard strokes into her already sopping wetness. (She had told me she had never gone menopausal. Must have had to do with the longevity work) I started my usual talk with her...

"We have appeared now in the vacancy of space. A thousand galaxies surround us. We vibrate on our breathing..."

We started vibrating alright...Oh shit, this would last all night, at least. Good thing we jumped the rack at six, right after dinner.

When I awoke the next day, I called work. No one answered. Saturday. I had lost track of time again, even at my own business. I just went in for meetings. We had meetings every day. It keeps my mind active on mundane affairs. I need mundanity.

I looked next to me. She had gotten up. I called for her, no answer. Tea waited for me. Lukewarm. An herbal mix she liked to give me early. I drank it, stretched in the sun room, doing several asanas and occult Kata I developed over long years of battle in the ethers. I seemed powered up much more than usual.

When I got back to the kitchen, I saw a note from her on the counter, next to the refrigerator.

"Marty, darling, love of my lives in all worlds, this trip will last about seven days or so, I will return in ten.

I LOVE YOU,

Sirenia"

I felt her intention-pure. Complete possession of herself and of those parts of each other that we gave. I wouldn't miss her too much.

I sat in long meditation.

Quiet.

Cleared.

I went into a visualizing trance and thoughts of pure intention and purpose entered my mind. I had five days to complete the task after preparation. I would go this alone.
______________________________________________________________________

Darsad looked down at the valley. The Shoggoth had consumed hundreds in the last couple of days. Neighboring towns started to empty and alarm began to spread through the media, but because of the psychic "cloaking" that the operation kept, no one knew, or pursued the reasons why. Reporters and investigators found themselves swimming in the black pool and ecstatically consumed by the Old Ones.

She slept in the bedroom, completely drained from constant sex. She would get more when she awakened in a few hours. These two seemed to have no other goals other than organs of feeding for the Shoggoth and the Old Ones he served. They had lived very rich lives before and had complete financial independence. Their home had gone off the grid several years ago when Darsad invented and installed Zero Point Vacuum technology. She had come to him just before that after the previous lover went into the pool and the gullet of interdimensional gluttony.

All over the world, hundreds of millions, maybe a couple or three billion people had disappeared. The ones who were left seemed select by a criteria that no current, human, biological technology could discern.

Bathing in the black pools did not seem to favor one set of characteristic in humans over another.

As the hours in my trance passed, I became deeply aware of the whole scenario. A subsonic rumbling accompanied my "knowledge". While I have no compulsion to save anyone or the human race, something compelled me to take action.

I felt disembodied to a great extent. It seemed like part of me-a very small part of me-stayed in this world while the rest spread itself throughout other worlds, other dimensions. The sensation seemed beyond eerie. I had moved outside our home and seemed to levitate over some black desert mountains, just outside of town. I got a view of myself from the outside of myself and what I saw looked like me, sitting in a full lotus position vibrating and looking barely visible. I floated and passed in and out of the visible reality of this world. I drew sigils in the air, multicolored and vibrating until they streaked away at what seemed like incredible velocities, making distant explosions...

Darsad went unconscious. He dressed himself and drove to the warehouse where the Shoggu lay in the pool, waiting. He got in the pool and dove into the Shoggu. A great rumbling occurred and this point and the liquid in the pool seemed to boil though no temperature increase happened. The naked people in the warehouse ran to the pool and began to dive in, disappearing into the bubbling black soup.

She got up and drove naked to the warehouse. The pool continued its cool boiling. She got in and pulsated with the boil. After awhile, she began rotating laterally in the pool, apparently absorbing all the colored contents. The pool then began a whirlpool swirling as it cleared and she vanished beneath the surface the whirlpool a result of her upright, vertical spinning.

Meanwhile, my visage also appeared as if it had a spinning motion, vibrating and pulsing at the same time.

Back at the pool the waters stilled. She got out and stood outside the pool, her eyes still a clear, complete blue, including the whites. The last batch of people began surfacing and coming out of the pool also, their eyes turned blue.

I came down from above the mountains, back to my seat in the sun room, covered in sweat and smelling quite foul and unearthly. A creepy nausea filled my stomach and I hurried to the bathroom to kneel before the toilet. After a solid five minutes of awful vomiting and multiple flushes, I mounted the seat and began the expulsion from my lower tract. This lasted several minutes, and after its conclusion, I felt relieved and renewed. I entered


the shower and washed for several minutes, ending with a cold stream to enliven my flesh...

        

What seems the monstrous part?

the part that scares too many

too much,

What do you lose from any of it?

What do you gain in spite of it?



Dark parting ways complete

rejoin, reanimate, reiterate,



I titillate,

purify, give ultimate escape,


You believe trying to

retrieve the hundreds of thousands of

moments lost in your delusions

with more illusions and confusion,

the emotional contusions of

a volunteer victim

in personal, prison hell,

seclusion,

No need to hunt you,

To beat you,

To send beastikins of the night

to destroy you,

the shit bleeds out of you

no longer next to her,

she winds up the cesspool,

you think

feels like a lake of love,

long dead from a preadolescent's dream,

preteen romance novel,

the stuporous hell you perpetuate,

in a home become a hovel,

So what winds up the change?

You remain increasingly deranged.

You get estranged,

She dangles you from

Her Kali belt of bitterness

of trauma,

of the debts leading to death...

        

How do you live your life? 

Do you construct it from things you have experienced and observed?  Does everything you believe come from a fresh set or does it come from imprints and conditioning from parents, preachers, politicians, professionals, and professors?  Have, or do you, question them, their motives, and the origins of these beliefs they'd like you to have or they have given you?

Does what you believe have the flexibility to change?  Would you examine your beliefs to understand why you think, feel, and act the way you do?  Will you change those things not giving you joyous results, building strengths, acquiring new personal resources?

Have you looked at those beliefs which come from supposed "Universal Values"?  Do they really have global consensus, or are they a social context to your country, historical culture, immediate family, extended family, circle of friends, close friends, and/or your lovers?  Do you consider the practicality of these beliefs-how they fit in to the real world and how they can actually contribute to your well being, happiness, and long term benefit?

Do you look at how you and those around you got influenced by media and how that has shaped you within the parameters of those beliefs, and if not why you don't think these considerations have importance?

Do you know yourself, accept yourself, and love yourself almost unconditionally, and if not, why not?

Do you have the willingness to discard that which doesn't work or comes from erroneous sources or sources that seek to control you for the benefit of exploitive influence?  Will you take the risk to make new, more fulfilling opportunities and adopt and install new beliefs that will give you greater joy and self love?

We have many more questions that can cause the examined life to actualize itself.

We know, unfortunately, that most will not have interest in these considerations, as they almost have a predetermined view of reality shaped by the influences we have mentioned.  We think that we see a society in the USA, which largely consists of the victim cycle belief set, wherein individuals have reluctance to take responsibility for their happiness and still cling to the myths that have no veracity to give them a sort of drunken happiness-maybe that is why so many intoxicate themselves regularly?

HOWEVER, WE DO NOT THINK THAT THESE MISCONTRUCTIONS POSIT THE VIEWS OF MOST OF OUR READERS!!!

What we ask here is that you ask variations of the questions we have posed above and ask the interviewees how they are served by their beliefs without making disrespectful judgments of them.

In these contexts we may see changes outside those we effect in ourselves....

        

He woke up, looking at the digital clock on the night stand.  3:42 AM.  She had gone.  He waited. No light in her master bathroom.  Maybe she had gone to get a snack.  He fell back asleep.

They worked in a forty story building.  Law offices, stock brokerages,  a big national bank on the ground floor, and an inordinate amount of Psychiatrists.  He had just come into private practice at thirty five-pretty young for a doctor with his training and experience.  He shared offices with two other doctors. 

He prided himself as more a listener than a 'scrip writer.  He still believed in all the transference stuff, but loved Reich and of course, Lowen and all his body work.  He didn't tell his colleagues about the NLP-they thought he kept strictly to Ericksonian hypnosis.

The second floor and the plaza of the building had two restaurants and a snazzy, cozy little bar where some of them would hang out after work. He and the other doctors had few common interests, except women.  He didn't like golf, pets, gardening, working out(even though he did religiously, five days a week), traveling.  He liked women; meeting them, engaging them, building rapport with them, posturing effectively with them.  He'd take them on quiet dates, wild overnights and weekends, doing activities he didn't like that much otherwise, but enjoying himself anyway.  

He was a great dancer; he could salsa, tango, ballroom, disco, you name it.  He didn't like it all that much, but the gals did and his love of movement showed them he actually liked most of it.  Yes, the body can lie very effectively when you know what to do with it.  It worked for him, because he mostly dated women with high self esteem and self confidence.  They valued him highly and he found himself sought out.

She worked on the seventh floor in a Law Office, about to find herself a junior partner; everything about her reeked beauty. She gave up a great conversation; witty, funny, engaging, push pull responsive, open body language and an almost innocent naturalness.  She stood five six, 115lbs, long dark brown hair, straightened, just past the shoulders.  Her waist to hip ratio was perfect. She had a dancer’s body with almost D-cups.  Her eyes: big and light blue, perfect.  Her smile paralyzed men immediately. Like a Gorgon with no snakes or venomous breath.

Most the available men or men who posed themselves as available in the building had hit on her to no avail, except him.  He hadn’t really noticed her, even when the other men would point her out.  He seemed focused on his life and his love for it.  A couple of times a month, randomly, he’d go to the little bar in the building at happy hour time to chat and have some juice or soda and bitters.

On this Thursday in particular, he got there about six thirty and went up to the bar.  None of his buddies seemed to be there and the place had maybe five people in its fifty person capacity space.  While he sat there, he thought of all the things he’d do when he got home.

He smelled a light, seductive perfume, and felt a slight warmth on his left side.  She had sat down next to him and gazed dreamily into the mirror running the length of the bar in front of them.

“I love coming here when its quiet.”

She seemed nonplussed, not caring if he responded.  Most folks thought him a very handsome man.  Six one, two hundred pounds, no fat, a perfect v-shaped torso-he had a full head of dark brown hair, close cropped,and knew how to dress, having a well developed style of his own.


“I like the quiet also.  It gets me just a little bit more calm.”


“I like to feel calm.”

She kept staring at the mirror.  She had on a light blue business suit with powder blue, almost nude stockings.  He briefly imagined she might be wearing a garter belt, and when he looked to his side down at her thighs, she was.

“Calm suits you…” he almost broke a smile.  She smiled easy and relaxed at him.  

“You’re a shrink with an office on the sixth floor, right?” She smiled again, a little bigger this time.

“The suit looks great.  By the way, my name is Malcolm.” 

He held out his hand.  She took it, shook it firmly.  Nice handshake,maybe a little too firm.  She tried to look into him, but only got halfway.

“Barbara is my name.  I work on the same floor in the law office.”  The law office was big and took up most of the floor.

“So you’re a full partner?”

“No, just getting to Junior.  Its OK, I love the work.  Industrial tort reform.”

“Do you have a specialty besides being sexy?” She kept back her grin.

“I like to take women dancing…”

“I love to dance.”  She did and was hooked now.  The conversation went on for another forty minutes.  She had two glasses of white wine then they got up and slow danced to the pianist in the bar.  Her body felt hot next to his, he pulled back his head and neck from her cheek and she opened.  He kissed her.

After a couple of minutes of this, she got aggressive.

“Take me home!  I want you.”

“Barbara.  I think we should wait. You’ve had a couple of drinks…”

“I know what I am doing.” She seemed a little high.

He leaned in.  She pressed her hips into him to spread warmth and felt his cock swelling into her.

“You seem just right for me, right now.”


“I usually don’t let women take advantage of me without a tango excursion.”

She brightened and pulled away.

“Will you teach me to tango?”

“Maybe, but we have to ballroom first. You seem like you have some grace.”

“Take me home, Doctor.  I will grace you…”

After they got to her place, she led him into her living room.  He had his I Pod with all the dance music on it, of course, and she plugged it in to her dock and turned on the home theater system.

He taught her some rudiments and then they began to tango, very cautiously, to a slow tune.  She loved it and started to perspire very slightly, which massively released the custom fragrance perfume he smelled on her and asked her about earlier.

The dancing when on for about three more songs and she insisted they retire to the sofa.  She kissed him with hard insistence, and he resisted with some discomfort, even though he liked what she was doing.

"Barbara, I really don't like to get too heavy too soon."

He loved delayed gratification, having left the pump and run behind as an undergraduate.

"Malcolm,  I generally don't get this turned on, but you're so hot.  I have to fuck you now."

"I have a lot of work to do, and I would really like to see you on the weekend."

"I have plans for this weekend..."

She hesitated, broke their embrace, and looked away.  She did have plans.  Men hit on her constantly.  She hated going out because of it, and she had a list of suitors longer than Penelope.  Some of whom she liked, but would not go steady with.

He got up to leave. 

"I guess we'll see each other in the bar later in the week..."

She almost jumped on him, "No, I don't think so Mister...You wanna fuck me and you know it!"

She wasn't drunk or high anymore.  She had a slight flush to her skin.  Her suit jacket was off and her blouse-silk-was opened to the edge of her bra.  She had the air of irresistible intention to her.

He would not hesitate now.

He kissed her fiercely, passionately, from the core of his sexuality-from his balls.  She squealed with his mouth on hers.  He could feel that her clitoris would anchor quickly and that she might squirt after just a few strokes.

He couldn't have had a more correct intuition.

She led him to her bedroom, took off her blouse and unzipped her skirt.  He kicked off his shoes...there was a valet at the side of the room...hmmmmmm.  Their embrace resumed.  He smoothed her hair with his right hand, while his left gently, and softly, caressed the sides of her neck.  He looked deep into her eyes, she looked back just as deeply. The rest of the clothing came off slowly, while kissing and caressing continued, ever so slowly.  Soon he had her on her stomach, caressing every inch of her skin from neck to toes, spreading her thighs.

"Stop for a second...", she got up, opened the nightstand drawer and took out a large bottle of expensive lubricant, "Just in case you need it...". 

He lubed both his hands, had her roll over and get on her knees standing, facing him.  He found it difficult to resist her breasts, which she warned him, get ultra sensitive nearing her period.  He rose up a bit, tongued the nipples, kissed under them, returned to the nipples, rolled each one in his mouth, gently between his teeth, while he tongued them. 


"Now...", his speech stopped. 

He placed his right hand between her legs, slid the thumb into her vulva while the rest of the hand to the forefinger pressed into her taint.  She felt a tingle that grew to a complete sensation, rise up her spine to her brain stem from her clit, which felt more stimulated and sensitive than ever before.  He released, while his left hand began stroking her clit slowly and gently at the one o'clock position, and he gently kissed the length of her, concentrating on her clit, while he watched her expressions.  She flushed, got goosebumps several times during the next hour of this, and when he finally put two fingers of the right hand to the roof of her vagina at the G-Spot and began her massage, she squirted and bucked almost immediately in a series of short orgasms that resulted in a screaming, gushing, come for her that seemed to last, and last.

Finally she got to him, even though he felt his work, was done and would be content to sleep now.  She took him in her mouth, and found the keys to sucking him off.  He came close to orgasm several times, but before he could hold it she squeezed his corona, facilitating karezza each time.

Then began the fucking which lasted quite awhile.  He didn't care to look at the clock.

"Oh Malcolm...where did you learn to do these things?"

"Barbara, I would ask you the same thing, but there's no sense in it."

He had come very hard, twice.  Once inside her, with both of them rhythmically, spasmodically orgasming, simultaneously;  her squirting on him and gushing out his semen. Afterward, he lay on his side, panting like a marathon had just ended.

The second time, he came on her tits and in her mouth at her insistence.  She rubbed it in and swallowed the rest, spitting some up in his mouth as they kissed at the end.

As they lay next to each other in the dark, he thought to himself that he might give her a call in a couple of days.

She looked at him and sighed, "Oh Mal..."

She drifted into sleep as she rolled onto her side.  He did the same, spooning her.

He went back to sleep after waking at three forty-two.  The next time he awoke, the clock said five-twelve.  She still wasn't there.  He got up, went to the bathroom, took a piss, turned on the shower, found a clean towel, showered and put on his clothes.  It was time to go.

As he came out of her bedroom, he heard a vacuum running.  He found her vacuuming the living room with an MP3 player in her ears, naked.  He watched her for a couple of minutes.  She would stop every few seconds and look at herself in one of the three large mirrors in the room.  She did look magnificent naked, he admitted to himself, but...

He got her attention.  She waved him off and went back to vacuuming.  He went to the kitchen, looked in the refrigerator and found a bottled water.  He drank it down and went back to the living room to wave goodbye.  She stopped for a minute and looked at him, unaffected.

"You going home?"

"Yes, I have quite few things to do."

"You could stay..."

"No, I don't think so...it seems you have a lot to do."

She kissed him, but it felt flat.  Sort of dispassionate and dissociated. He went down the elevator, out the front doors, and hailed a taxi.  It only took a couple of minutes.

That work day, his fellow doctors knew that he had bedded her.  It was the gossip fest of the building. Apparently, she had told the right person-the biggest mouth in the building and the news spread like wildfire. 

"How was it...great I bet!" 

Dr. Meyers, the other single shrink on the floor seemed eager.

"Yes, it was great, but I  couldn't wait to get out of there."

Malcolm walked up to the desk to check his appointments.

As he sat in his office, he knew he wouldn't see her again.  He didn't.

She called a couple times and text messaged him. 

No matter.

Very simply, she did not show him nearly enough regard.

        

Recently I was threatened with legal action over blogs and pictures they contained.

I took down the blogs in lieu of legal advice which I have since obtained from two professional, legal sources-Lawyers.

The following are my findings(read 'em and weep)

No criminal action can be taken...all individuals were consenting adults and their identities were not revealed.  

• The pictures displayed were not used for commercial purposes.
• There are no grounds for libel, slander, or defamation of character
• I own the pictures and since the pictures had consent to be taken and were liked by the participants as well as the blogs whose posting was also consented to.
  
• a lawsuit could be undertaken, but it will be expensive and the chances of winning it would be poor since I have also retained legal counsel-aggressive internet savvy legal counsel.

In fact, the posts which went most afoul of the law came from a comment-which I deleted-that clearly was a defamation of my character, and would give me grounds to sue that individual and to have them arrested for harassment.

The aforementioned blogs were written to report the facts.  In the beginning, all individuals involved thought they were fun and an expression of their sexuality.

However, as time passed and news went through the recovery group grapevine, the self righteous purveyors of moral indignation began to cajole and harass the woman involved.  They used shaming tactics and peer pressure based in moralizing, to demean this woman and play on her with guilt and shame.  Most likely, this resulted in her succumbing to her own desire for social acceptability.

In my own experience, I have seen this many times in the recovery program fellowship.  Abusive, demeaning, demoralizing judgmental behaviors get exacted on people who want to live alternative lifestyles, when in fact, many of the accusers may be doing similar behaviors in their own right and they may be projecting their own guilt on others.

No wonder these "programs" have such a high recidivism rate overall-less than five percent stay clean in the long run.  Who would want to associate with people who reek of self loathing and project that on to others rather than deal with the issue and treat others with acceptance, compassion and respect?

Too many times, addiction will get judged as a moral, ethical dilemma.  This is consistently admonished by the recovery literature which attempts to eliminate the social stigma and demonization of addicted people.  This can only be accomplished by the practice of self acceptance and through discarding old, worn out beliefs.  In this, the literature itself contains incongruences and hypocrisy, since a big part of these "programs" deal erroneously with spiritual principles which are nothing more than morals and ethics from the transcendentalist or secular Christian point of view. The rest of what remains is left to religiosity of the worst kind.

Unfortunately, in many communities, the therapeutic community that also deals very poorly with addiction, infects members of the recovery programs with unhealthy, self deprecatory memes that perpetuate the high recidivism rates.  Statistics accomplished by reputable sources have verified this again and again.

Finally, we can see that most of the abuse that got suffered as a result of the now deleted blogs came from readers who cast moral judgment on people who were just having some fun with sex.  Safe sex, I might add.

Such abuse will no longer be tolerated if it comes my way.  I will take legal action if I get verifiable sources that can prove defamation of my character.  Like us all, I am allowed to live a lifestyle, within the laws of the land, that allows me to experience pleasure and the pursuit of happiness.

What happens within the confines of consenting adults, is not subject to salacious moralization by victimizers.  It will be dealt with harshly and efficiently, within the confines of legality.

        

Those of you who know Mondo's alter ego, know that he is formerly a left wing radical from the late sixties and early seventies.  You may also know that he is not patriotic and thinks that patriotism has similar characteristics to a mental disorder, i.e.-FUCKED UP THINKING.

I have no nationalistic pride.  I do not revere this holiday, Memorial Day, or Veteran’s Day.  Sorry, I am just not a rah rah American, nor am I political any more.  I don’t even like most sports.  Except those in the bedroom...

We keep hoping that our fellow citizens will get a little more sensible and try to elect politicians that care about the people, and not so much the companies and industries that we allow to exploit us.


Some of you may have done your reading and know that this country did not really have most of its founding grounded in the noblest of intentions and the best of ethical considerations.

(1)

(2)

(3)

So please understand that we do not support the troops, the invasion of other countries and all the rest of the bullshit.  We do not think that these efforts have preserved our freedom.  We know that they are efforts which have to do with the Military Industrial Complex and its self perpetuation.  We see how easily our new “regime” sold itself out.  We didn’t expect anything less.


Furthermore, the disgusting loyalty and reverence that people have for the military is ridiculous.  

Some of the military may actually have pure and noble intentions founded in the great lies of the American Dream, but really, what they have together is actually more important-esprit des corps.  This winds up the most admirable quality, plus the fact if our security were actually threatened, I have no doubt that they would protect us to the utmost of their ability.

In the meantime, too many Americans seem stuck blind in the belief that the wars we have engaged in really do something for us.  Finally, it becomes apparent that terrorism does not pose as immanent a threat as we'd like to think.  MANY of us knew that during all of this Afghanistan and Iraq bullshit.  We also know that our policies have brought much of this upon us.  Let us remain clear that the corporations exploit people and resources for their owners and shareholders, and in the majority of cases, seem to give a fuck only to keep up appearances.

The people are too lily livered to do anything about this.  We live in a nation in which most individuals are too passive, apathetic, or downright cowardly.  We have no wonder that we have not gained an edge that truly gives us resilience and now, more needed, renewability.

We like fireworks.  We like entertainment.  We like barbecuing and getting together with friends. 

We have pride in the fact that our ancestor worked himself out of indentured servitude-white slavery-into having his own farm and getting a name of his own.  We realize that twenty percent of the population, have some of the wealth they may not have gained under the previous circumstances.  While this may seem like progress, we do not think it anything that resembles fairness or parity.

We have seen the ridiculous claims being made that we are moving toward socialism...hahahahha-National Socialism maybe, Corporatism is already here!  

It is a fact that less than .3% of industry in this country is nationalized, by definition and practice.

Even the Federal Reserve is a private enterprise.

When I see people getting back into real estate thinking that this is our investment salvation.  When I see people over fifty buying homes with a thirty year mortgage.  When I see people clinging stubbornly to the dream that doesn't work, I wonder little at the rampantly stupid and delusional society we live in, for the most part.

I didn't want to believe that most people are stupid fucks, but now, I see the inescapable reality.

I hope everyone has a good time doing whatever today.  I might break open a bucket of love and hang out with some friends who appreciate my curmudgeonly nature.

I see something big and beautiful coming and it doesn't involve Yankee Doodle...

        

Abortion when used to avert a lifetime of sorrow winds up a good thing.

Often, the drive to reproduce reduces women and men to their base animal selves, far away from personal goals, and familial and social contracts they have made.  It can destroy or divert to aimlessness and hopelessness lives that can be happy and productive.  Having children because you did not avoid pregnancy effectively is no excuse to have them and ruin your life anyway.  You ruin more than just your life.  It negatively affects the lives of many others around you.

The stupidity that comes from Christian morals and ethics and the attendant, atheist-humanist copy catting of them, casts a ridiculous shadow on the land in many areas.  Abortion has been one of them.  While abortion is not an acceptable birth control method, it does work as an effective population control method, particularly when employed by those who cannot care for and rear children in a healthy way.

We have only to look around us to see the disgusting plopping out of children by parents who are immature, if not indigent, and who cannot provide for them except by charity and government subsidy.  We think that these acts severely limit our society.  Not only are we PRO ABORTION we find ourselves PRO STERILIZATION.

We can reassure all of you that there's no God who will get angry if you abort.  Furthermore, there's no God who will be offended if you get sterilized. 

If you are using children to fill some emotional or psychological void or having them out of wedlock, maybe you ought to do something which helps you better accept and love yourself.

I don't know why fuckers like you think this such a great world to bring children into.  It's not.  Do the reading.  Watch the news...no fuck that...glean the facts-the facts with the most veracity.  How cruel to bring helpless children you can't fend well for, into this mess; into YOUR FUCKING MESS.

Yeah, I know, abortion is very traumatic.  I went through a couple of them with women I love very much.  These abortions were both therapeutic and very sad.  There are many reasons for abortion.  Mostly all of them have positive import in the end.

So if you're sitting out there, Toots, with a child in your uterus who won't have the best of all worlds' opportunity, who won't have a sane, healthy father in his life, who will be brought up in poverty and/or unhealthy circumstances--Do the child and everyone else that favor...

        

A few notes for you in passing.

You will not find yourself pursued or courted, particularly if you have the baggage of a train wreck and a string of marriages ended in divorce.

You must have emotional maturity and ought to have realism beyond romance novels and Hollywood endings.  You know that life doesn't happen that way in the majority of cases.

If you're still looking for your childhood or teenage sweetheart to come take you away, keep looking.

You will have to look very good.  The fattie, matronly look will find my eyes looking downcast.  If you smoke or drink more than a couple of drinks once in awhile you will get no interest. If you have children who consume your life and pets who take the place of human companions, you will not find my attentions on you.  If you do not take good care of yourself in general, I will see it and you will not see me as I will pass you by quickly.  Probably, you will not see me.

Do yourself the big favor.  Fall in love with your life.  Improve yourself.  Learn to pleasure yourself and to express that with others.  Make yourself attractive enough to get the lovers you want instead of pining away over that which never was or couldn't last.  Find your beauty, inner and outer, and live in it so that it shows.  Process and feel, express those feelings.

Men.  Mature men like me may notice you.  We may love you as women and fuck you.  Fuck you in ways you never imagined, leaving the train wreck of bullshit beliefs behind with parents, professionals, professors, and politicians...

        

If you can't stand or don't like graphic images....stop right here.

Going to twelve step meetings, I hear too much about this falderal.  I went to a meeting last night and heard people beat themselves up because they don't pray enough.  

Hell, my life got a fucking helluva lot better when I quit praying.  

Sorry, folks....wait, no!   I AM NOT SORRY...THERE'S NOTHING OUT THERE OR IN HERE TO PRAY TO!!! NO GOD, NO SPIRIT OF RECOVERY....NO NADA!!!

The only thing-a far better fate-we have, remains each other.  That's how we help each other.  The therapeutic value of one addict helping another is without parallel.  There's no GOD that approaches this.  We have our individual interpretations of the principles of "recovery".  That's the only "spirit"-the will to thrive and grow.  Remember, that these cannot get practiced perfectly, just progressively improved.  Usually that's good enough.  Some will never be forgiven and especially, not forgotten.  They will find themselves despised and banished, rightfully so.

Even the egregore of the "program" can find itself, with those who have the ability, at our beck and call, but I don't mean you aspiring novices out there or piece of shit opportunists.  This shite is adepts only.  Believers won't get it done-only those who have mastery in their own MULTIVERSE.

You can picture yourselves as whatever you wish, but you will have no substitute for experience and progressive improvement, and no matter how hard you try, it still takes years, DOG PUKE. Years!!!

_____________________________________

So when I hear you fuckfaces spouting off about "God" aka Grand Old Delusion, I let it pass as more of the same old brainwashes.  And when I hear about you poor little victims of your own horseshit and all the "I'm sorry, I fucked up" poor excuses for making things right, and I see you squirt forth the disgusting products of your persistent disorder-a life never well lived-I have no pity, I piss on it in a public toilet somewhere...most likely the meeting I am at.  

Worse still, when I see the sympaticos you try to enlist in your disgusting bullshit and their pissy little sympathies, I know that I move toward a greater reward, away from you, and your shitass beliefs and thinking.

We who grow, grow to ignore you and not remember your bullshit idealism.  We will find you always in the heap...the trash heap of crisis and despair in which you sometimes find what you think is ecstasy, and worse still, LOVE...haahhahahahahha.

When you think a sex addict is a prize with lasting value and that having children born into your shitbag reality is a joy, you have exemplified the horror of it all. 

When you find yourself attracted to people who have self pity and a broken reality and eschew the healthy.

When you want to save the world with a stupid messianic ideal that all sentient beings can reach some form of salvation.  When you allow yourself to be drawn into your own madnesses....

You show yourself as the turd in the toilet that doesn't flush.

This toilet is transcendentalism and atheist humanism, and any form of religiosity.

I won't find myself pissing in this gas station restroom any time soon....

        

I had just gotten home from work, putting strings on the Challenger, looking at my altar, all the while thinking about Sheri's ass. 

Gig tomorrow night.

I answered the phone, interrupting the visual of me on her...

"Mondo, I need your help..."

Sierra had that distressed tone in her voice.  I didn't feel like coming to the rescue.  Going on an adventure, maybe.  Coming to the rescue?  Fuck NO!

She feigned that when questioned, but her penchant for crisis always belagured those statements.

"I'm at work..."

Sierra danced at the "Cheetah".  At the time, it hadn't gotten scooter trash polluted again-that shit happened periodically, depending upon who hired the girls. 

The girls there could make a lot of money if they had an act down.  Sierra had a great act.  She looked fabulous at thirty five-she'd had four kids.  She had it all: the smarts, the looks, a sultry voice, she could move like a snake or a black Jaguar-whatever could rise your serpent.

"We have great traffic.  The guys spend money.  I only make about $75-150 a day lately.  Two of the girls here are using magic to glamor all the business.  I have worked against it with no success.  Help me sweetie!"

She squeaked that one out.  She had great love for me as a friend, as a sometime lover, and as my magical partner.  She didn't like my excursion to the "dark side".  She had superstitious religious fear about my manipulations and magical fragmentation grenades.  If not for that, she might have...

"OK, I will round up Fr. Satyr and we will come down to the club...maybe we'll bring The Crow.  How's the energy taste?"

"You know I don't do that stuff...I just want an evaluation, not an all-you-can-eat dancer pussy energy drain!  That could fuck me up down here! What if it backfires?"

We would have no backfire for what the giant frater and I would do.

She had a way with words.  It made my rood do the boink throb.  I got out of and back in character very quickly.  I could tell she wanted enchantment design.

"Ok babe, I will come down and check it out..."

In '95 we didn't talk the way you kids do now.  Hell, at forty-two, I just barely made it into twenty something chatter.  Barely.

Now the hunger came upon me.  I hadn't fed on dancers in awhile.  It could have some benefit if transmuted properly...

"We'll likely show up around seven.  Get ready for me..."


"Papasota, I am always ready for you!"

She laughed and gave away her ethnicity.  She couldn't and didn't want to speak Spanish. I could do more than she, and I couldn't conjugate worth shit.

"Ohhhhh Mamasota! You must ride..."

I could hear her sigh to herself and smile back at me.  She wanted me to fall in love with her so she could have that control, but she'd never admit that she would love again...a cheese ball friend of mine would cheat her out of that with a dump and later, death on a motorcycle.

I collected Satyr.  He had begun his downhill slide into implosion.  He lived in a trailer park with a very homely woman.  He worked and had money, but he owed everybody in the immediate circle of acquaintances, except me.  Somehow, I knew better.

We parked. Showed ID, went to a table in the back, away from the stages. 

I collected my state from my previous energy drain. I had been at a meeting, and when the participants circled to pray, sucked in their energies for a taste.

It seemed worse than leftovers-like dumpster diving at McDonald's.

Five minutes later, Sierra showed up at the table in white lingerie.  Even though I wasn't a big fan, it looked beautiful against her dark brown skin.  She'd put her hair up and wore her black, horn rimmed glasses.  She had on the right color of red lipstick-it got me thinking about her pussy.  The lips looked almost black and puckered with some extra flesh maybe from child bearing(at least that's what she'd said when I had made a reverent remark about them while eating her out one of the first times).  For some reason, it drove me wild.  I looked at the outline of them through the sheer, white  translucence of her panties.  My mouth began to water and my eyes went half-lidded.  She had walked up slow.  She knew how to raise my tensions very well.  She could tell I wanted her in my mouth.

"Table dance Papasota?"  The black eyes sparkled on top of her full lips and cute little nose.  She had those high Azteca cheekbones...damn, she cleaned my clock so well.

"Maybe, Mamasota.  Talk to me first."  She bent over me and kissed my ear before her husky whisper started.

"The girls are both working now, Mondo..." she kissed my neck.  Fuck, she knew that would get me throbbing hard and oozing.  Good thing I wore black dockers.

"They should come out about three girls apart."

The next song started.  I don't remember it.  I really couldn't stand classic rock for the most part-still don't.  She got her bubble butt in front of me and started shaking it.  She knew I loved to squeeze ass, and that I wouldn't squeeze hers until later...she liked the way I caressed hers first, and soft touched her inner thighs.  I thought about that while she performed.  Soon she had mounted my lap and began softly kissing my lips. (She had told the staff that I was a high paying private customer and not to worry).  I had gotten too hard and she smiled very large as she lightly brushed the head, protruding in my black, crotch tent.  Her tongue parted my lips.  I flexed my dick to keep the come down.  No way I would come home, or to her house with soaked trousers.

She kept on for a couple of more dances and moved over to Satyr who had gotten kind of envious.  Soon the other girls swarmed over us and I got a couple of more dances until the first target came over.  She called herself Tawny.  She had ash colored, straight hair to mid neck and the perfect body at five seven, 115 lbs.  Her dance seemed very sensual, but business like.  She got on me hard, and dug deep into me, brushing me with her tits and lips and reversing herself to pump on my crotch with her ass.  The whole time, I imagined a black hole in my chest, slowly sucking her energy into me.  She tasted pretty good, kind of sweetened, and I saw dark blue coming out of her into me.

At the the end of the second dance, I gave her the money and she thanked me profusely.  She bent in and kissed me, sticking her fat tongue deep in my mouth.

"Thanks Daddy.  You rock!" 

"Sure Baby.  Come back and see me before I leave..."

She grabbed my mid back length locks.  They curled around my back out of a black ball cap with a chaostar embroidered on the front.  She tried to straighten out the curls as she backed away towards Satyr who had finished with Vanessa, the second money draw queen.

Vanessa was a red head.  Her hair was straightened to shoulder length.  She had white porcelain skin and perfect C-cup tits with pinkish, orange nipples on two inch diameter areolas.  She didn't bother to put her top back on.  She had on an orange lace g-string that left nothing to the imagination, and rightfully so.

She leaned in and kissed me without hesitation.

"So you're the big, bad Chaos Mage that Sierra brags about when she puts her make up on?"

I just looked at her, showing a slight grin.

"Maybe Vanessa...why do you want to know?"

She pushed her tits over both sides of my face.

"You didn't come here to help your girl, didya?"

I laughed.

"You don't know that bitch, do ya?  She takes damned good care of herself."

Vanessa threw back her head and bit my left earlobe, playfully.

"She's no threat Daddy.  You're the one with the power..."

Satyr had drained her to the point of sauciness.  I would finish the job like he was now on Tawny.

I couldn't figure out why, but the DJ started playing NIN and Vanessa moved in while I sucked her almost dry.  She left me faint and dizzy.

Neither girl finished her shift.  Sierra made $700.00 that night. 

I took Satyr home to the trailer park and went back to the club to fetch Sierra who waited outside in her street clothes.

She jumped in my old, white, 1980 Corolla and started kissing my neck and rubbing my cock softly, so that it drove me wild.

"Mondo.  You will stay the night with me, right?"

"I suppose, but..."

She cut me off, with a I don't speaky no espanol laugh.

"OK.  You can stay for a few days, but you have to go to work."

My place was on the way.  We stopped briefly, I got some clothes for work and drove west down McDowell Rd to 35th Avenue and headed North.

As we got down about two miles, two carloads of young Vatos passed us in a gun battle down the suicide lane.

We pulled over.  She lifted her head from my lap, hugging my cock.  I rose my head up.  Two gangsters jumped out their car and ran up to the car in front which had spun out on the other side of the street, up about five hundred meters from my car.

They emptied their 9MMs into the car, ran to their car, and sped away.

Sierra and I looked at each other a little in shock, as we drove home to her house.  She rode me like a Bruja possessed and I came very hard into her, after she came.  We woke up a couple of times that night; she cussed me out for draining the girls, and fucked me again.

I went to work and came home to her two nights running after my gigs with both bands.

"Sometime I am gonna see that Chuy band of yours Mondo!"

She grabbed my scrotum and pulled it down a few inches while dropping the rest of me into her mouth.  I swung around to her pussy with its shiny black pubes and spread her lips.

"Nice and spicy, eh Mondo?"

I ate her like a starved man, with a soft mouth.

Two weeks later, she came to my Chuy's Revenge gig, smiling.  After the show, and after she had complemented everyone in the band, except me-she came up to me and kissed me like a new bride.

"Mondo.  Those girls got very sick.  They never came back to work..."

I knew she wouldn't ask for that favor again.

I worked up our ecstasies to beyond fever pitch, and drank all the excess.

        

As usual, I had passed out drunk and stoned on the floor in the family room.

At twenty four, I had come to stay at the old family home for the summer until I would move to my apartment at Arizona State. Work and party, party and work. Hopefully, I wouldn't puke too much...

It had gotten late, like two in the morning.  I peeled my face off the floor.  It made the sound that only a sticky from sweat and skin oil face makes as I peeled it.

I grumbled, "Fuck..."

She sat behind me on the couch, waiting.

"Hey..."

She looked at me, big black, watery eyes, slightly bloodshot.

"What?  You waiting up for me?"

"Yes...."

All she could do was look at me.  I had a hard on and didn't realize it.  She stared at my crotch.  I went to the fridge and pulled out a St Pauli Girl.  Ice fuckin' cold German Pilsner.  Two draws and it looked half gone.

I sat down next to her.  I looked deep at her, turned away.  She rubbed my leg softly, squeezed my throbbing dick-still hard.

"You have a nice hard on here, Mondo...", she used my real name.

I finished the beer and grabbed another one.

"Come on Ginger, let's go to my room."

She got up quick like she had gotten her desire.

We got on the bed.  I squeezed her ass with both hands, hard. 

"Ohhhhhhhh."

It came out like a whisper.  I kicked off my clothes.  She seemed slow getting hers off.

"I want to enjoy you..."

She tried to get tough, commanding.

She grabbed my cock, squeezed it, bent down, took it in her mouth.  I lay back down on the bed.  She did the worshipful cock sucking.  The kind that makes it maximum throb.  A small lamp burned on the dresser far away.  My dick in her hands and mouth cast a beautiful, erotic shadow on the wall.  I watched the shadow, staying on the edge of building an ejaculation.

"I didn't think you'd harden up like THIS..."

She definitely seemed proud of her work.  I pushed her down and surveyed her body.  She barely reached five feet tall and her breasts, in my memory, rank among the most perfect I ever handled.  She had flawless skin like white porcelain. I played with every part of her, in wonder and tenderness.  I licked her clit, but when I went to put two fingers in, something seemed pretty different about her vagina. 

The entrance took an upward curve after about an inch and a half.  Damn!  I started to come out of my stupor a bit.  I began massaging the roof in that first inch an a half-the rest of the tunnel would have to wait for the throbber.  I massaged her until I got an appropriate set of moans and a body flush.  She smiled and tears ran down her face.

"I am in love with you."  She choked it out like it had a painful origin.

"I feel so sad for you.  You fall for these women who don't love you and pass up the ones who can love you.  Women who have beauty and who can love you!"

I felt sad for a minute, but my dick still throbbed.  I kissed her to silence.  I could feel it in her.  She arched herself beneath me and guided me into her.

"How do I feel?"

"Great!"

The blood and come started to rush forward.  I flexed my dick.  I had studied and practiced the Deer exercise and I had the beer hard on that doesn't droop after a load.

Her pussy felt very hot.  It also felt inordinately swollen.  I got even more excited. I didn't let her push all the way over me.  I bent down and kissed her deeply to feel that affection and love before entering completely. 

"I just finished my period.  They're weird because they changed my pill..."

She had to reassure me. 

Even drunk, I had to hesitate, and she knew I would.  The texture in that pussy felt very different.  I would go in all the way very slowly so that I could savor every millimeter.

"Oh you bastard..."

"You fuckin' love it, Ginger!"

I started to freak.  My dick had to go over a hump in her pussy.  It curved upward.  I stroked slowly to make sure I didn't have a stunk and droned dream goin' on.  I did this for what seemed a long time.  I started sweating all over her.

"I love your sweat!

She collected it and licked it off me, rubbing it into her perfect skin.  I quickened my pace until I thought I would pass out from ejaculating.


"That's it Mondo!  Come inside me.  Come hard!  Don't pull out!"

I came like a freight train.

I drove it to the hilt and started spasming. I spurted until I felt like my guts came out.  I rolled off her and grabbed the beer. Shit, it had gotten warm.  I drained it and went to the kitchen naked.  When I got back.  I had to run to the bathroom and get a towel.  My sister had come into the room.

"What are you guys doing?"

She seemed pretty pissed.  Five in the morning.  She scowled at me.  I set the beer down and began to roll a joint.  Thankfully, it was high grade.  I would get stoned right away.  I handed it to my Sis.  She passed.  Ginger took it up, giving me doe eyes. 

Fuck.  In love with me.  Fuck.  My sisters' close friend. 

My sister started to leave the room, her back turned to me.

"Disgusting..."

She went back to her bedroom.  I passed it off.  Her boyfriend was a dufus.  She would leave him behind for a hellacious career and go on to marry a race car driver.

Ginger went back to work on my cock.  I doggied her and came again. 

Seven AM.  I turned over, she was still awake.

"I am on acid.  My feelings for you are real.  I love you."

"Ok. Ginger." 

I stroked her hair lightly.  I would deal with this later. 

When I woke again it was twelve thirty PM.  Ginger and both my sisters-identical twins, gorgeous mirrors, too fuckin' smart-had a small pow wow going on in the kitchen.  My stomach felt sour.  I went to the bathroom, took a long loud piss.  The kind you can hear with the door closed and the fan on.  I went to the fridge.  The fucking beer looked awful.  I pulled out a gallon of milk and drank from the bottle.

"Stop that..." 

"Ewwwwww, gross..."

The sisters commented.  I had disgusted them once again.  I farted very loud and burped.  They both got up and left the room.  Ginger started laughing. 

"You're so gross!"

She smiled and laughed with that Spanish accent.  Her dad came from Mexico and her mother from the Philippines.  She spoke Spanish well.  She started talking to me, but I thought in English, my brain wouldn't translate this morning.  She obviously was giving me teasing shit.

I blew it off and rummaged the icebox for breakfast.  I started cooking some sausage.  The smell turned me on.  I put some coffee in the percolator.  It was 1974, we didn't have coffee makers then.  I cooked eggs and drained the grease off the sausage.

"How do you like your eggs?", I asked  her.

"I already had some toast with the girls..."

She continued to stare at me like we were together.

"I love you, Mondo..."

I interrupted her, "But what about your boyfriend?"

She always had a boyfriend with a couple lovers on the side, not the kind of girl I wanted to fall in love with.  I wouldn't be falling in love with anybody.

"We broke up...", her eyes watered up.  She would start to cry.  I finished my breakfast, drank down some more coffee, stared at her, rolled a joint. 

"I am going to fuck you again..."

"I don't know if I will let you!"  Her tears had dried.

I went to the toilet and rid myself of what I thought was most of my shit.

I came back to the kitchen, took her hand, and led her to the shower.  It was a damned good one.

We went back to my bedroom and only came out to eat and shower again.  At ten PM we went to the movies.  I kept passing out.  She drove me home, took me to bed, and fucked me.

When I woke up that Sunday morning she was gone. 

I felt relieved.

The next time I saw her she got very pissy.

"How come you haven't called?"

She started crying in front of my sisters and her gay friend.  I motioned with my eyes to the bedroom.  She came there later. 

I didn't see her again until I had moved to Tempe.  She had moved in with the man who would be her husband.  I got her to cut my hair, she was a great stylist-gave me the "Continental" look.  We fucked for a couple of more years...they were swingers and he went out of town a lot. 

The woman I really loved-Carol-lived down the street.  She would only fuck me three times a week for one long, tantric session each time.  She said sex drained her energy too much.  Sometimes I would get to visit she and Ginger the same day. 

Women popped out everywhere.  I kept my 240Z carnuba waxed and on display in the front yard of the house my room mate and I leased...like it was my ego. Fuck.

What the fuck. I was in pretty good shape. I was young.  School was fun.  There was lots of pot, coke, and alcohol.

I puked every Friday and Ginger still loved me.

        

We start this treatment with laughter.  As the essay, at the end of my discussion here says, this set of ethics may only strive for consistency.  Thus, it does not qualify as as a truth, only having relative veracity.

Truths must be provable, "beyond a shadow of a doubt".  Thus, what we have accorded here winds up on a good day as relative truth, giving us room for other, more effective, meta strategies beyond all the religiosity crap.

We see too much ludicrous impracticality regarding this in the literature of Narcotics Anonymous, particularly that dealing with the Eighth and Ninth Steps:

Step Eight – “We made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.”

There's too much unconditional acceptance asked for in this step that goes contrary to human nature.  The literature also presupposes that there is a Divine Force, a God, or Higher Power involved here when in fact, in truth, there probably is none.  The unfortunate caveat has to do with a hidden curse that travels throughout this literature..."if you don't do this, you will use and feel miserable..."

Bullshit.  All that may have to be done is to feel indifferent and not waste energy.

Recently an amends was attempted on me by someone who does not know the nature of his wrongs.  He willfully caused me harm and made excuse after excuse for it, trying to keep my anger down for fear that I would curse him.  He no longer has any power to rationalize and justify his behavior to try and lessen the harm and impact it has caused.  He created the nature of his own curse and it got exacted by his actions.  The results will flow in due time.  Meanwhile, he and his diseased little paramour have pleaded their victim case to those who would listen. Those who have a messianic complex and want to rescue these poor little victims from the evil perpetrator will suffer their own self defeats in attempting to "help" them.

Step Nine – “We made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.”


With rewording of the previous step, we will not find ourselves brainwashed and accept the biological reality of human nature which only gets transcended in an illusory capacity.
Thus a better treatment for the atheist, skeptic might read more effectively as:

Step Eight – “We made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to those who did not earn their fate.”


This impractical, inhuman view on how we ought to conduct ourselves does not posit self acceptance and human nature. The Golden Rule will always fail us here. We can forgive ourselves if we have truly done something wrong but we may never forgive those who have truly wronged us. No wonder so few people can work the program and stick around-it mostly isn't practical and it actually is unrealistic and perfectionist in its goals in spite of the prattle about "progress not perfection".
As my old girlfriend used to say...some people ought to get what they deserve.  Justice gets subjective according to socialization and power.
Resentments don't kill or cause people to go out the door unless we give them too much power.  Many times, resentments have adequate justification and the causative parties deserve hard punishments, and Retribution.

Nowadays, these will usually get accomplished via occult means after the anger has lessened itself into a colder, more decided, free of anger, state.  A death state.
Too many people want Redemption, and they think that Repentance will get them there, in spite of the knife and gun shot wounds they have, and the prison time they have served.  In spite of those whose bodies have never been found...
Revenge is a normal human behavior and research has suggested that it has more prevalence in men that in women.  Moral sanctions against revenge got codified for the purpose of law and government to keep people regulated-to little avail.  It still occurs widely, everyday, worldwide.

THE GOLDEN RULE

from:

www.jcu.edu/philosophy/gensler/goldrule.htm



"The golden rule is endorsed by all the great world religions; Jesus, Hillel, and Confucius used it to summarize their ethical teachings. And for many centuries the idea has been influential among people of very diverse cultures. These facts suggest that the golden rule may be an important moral truth.

Let's consider an example of how the rule is used. President Kennedy in 1963 appealed to the golden rule in an anti-segregation speech at the time of the first black enrollment at the University of Alabama. He asked whites to consider what it would be like to be treated as second-class citizens because of skin color. Whites were to imagine themselves being black - and being told that they couldn't vote, or go to the best public schools, or eat at most public restaurants, or sit in the front of the bus. Would whites be content to be treated that way? He was sure that they wouldn't - and yet this is how they treated others. He said the "heart of the question is ... whether we are going to treat our fellow Americans as we want to be treated."

The golden rule is best interpreted as saying: "Treat others only in ways that you're willing to be treated in the same exact situation." To apply it, you'd imagine yourself in the exact place of the other person on the receiving end of the action. If you act in a given way toward another, and yet are unwilling to be treated that way in the same circumstances, then you violate the rule.

To apply the golden rule adequately, we need knowledge and imagination. We need to know what effect our actions have on the lives of others. And we need to be able to imagine ourselves, vividly and accurately, in the other person's place on the receiving end of the action. With knowledge, imagination, and the golden rule, we can progress far in our moral thinking.

The golden rule is best seen as a consistency principle. It doesn't replace regular moral norms. It isn't an infallible guide on which actions are right or wrong; it doesn't give all the answers. It only prescribes consistency - that we not have our actions (toward another) be out of harmony with our desires (toward a reversed situation action). It tests our moral coherence. If we violate the golden rule, then we're violating the spirit of fairness and concern that lie at the heart of morality.

The golden rule, with roots in a wide range of world cultures, is well suited to be a standard to which different cultures could appeal in resolving conflicts. As the world becomes more and more a single interacting global community, the need for such a common standard is becoming more urgent."

        

For years, people have bought into the concept that mental illness is a disease when the truth of the matter is that there's no verifiable physiological or biochemical data using human tissues to verify these claims. 

That means that all you fuckers taking "anti psychotic"medications for your mental illness are getting loaded!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH, there goes your clean time and the credibility most, but not all, of you never had anyway....Oh what a debate it seems.  We know that some of you bastards willfully stay in lalaland forever.  I like what the following article says about prosecuting these fucks for their crimes.

Let's see what Dr. Thomas Szasz has to say:

MENTAL DISORDERS ARE NOT DISEASES

by

Thomas S. Szasz, M.D.

Psychiatrists and their allies have succeeded in persuading the scientific community, courts, media, and general public that mental illnesses are phenomena independent of human motivation or will.

THE CORE CONCEPT of mental illness--to which the vast majority of psychiatrists and the public adhere--is that diseases of the mind are diseases of the brain. The equation of the mind with the brain and of mental disease with brain disease, supported by the authority of a large body of neuroscience literature, is used to render rational the drug treatment of mental illness and justify the demand for parity in insurance coverage for medical and mental disorders.

Reflecting the influence of these ideas, on Sept. 26, 1997, Pres. Clinton signed the Mental Health Parity Act of 1996, which took effect on Jan. 1, 1998. "This landmark law," according to the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill, "begins the process of ending the long-held practice of providing less insurance coverage for mental illnesses, or brain disorders, than is provided for equally serious physical disorders." Contrary to these views, I maintain that the mind is not the brain, that mental functions are not reducible to brain functions, and that mental diseases are not brain diseases--indeed, that mental diseases are not diseases at all.

When I assert the latter, I do not imply that distressing personal experiences and deviant behaviors do not exist. Anxiety, depression, and conflict do exist--in fact, are intrinsic to the human condition--but they are not diseases in the pathological sense.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, disease is "a condition of the body, or of some part or organ of the body, in which its functions are disturbed or deranged; a morbid physical condition." Diagnosis, in turn, is "the determination of the nature of a diseased condition ... also, the opinion (formally stated) resulting from such investigation."

The core medical concept of disease is a bodily abnormality. Literally, the term "disease" denotes a demonstrable lesion of cells, tissues, or organs. Metaphorically, it may be used to denote any kind of malfunctioning of individuals, groups, economies, etc. (substance abuse, violence, unemployment, et al.).

The psychiatric concept of disease rests on a radical alteration of the medical definition. The mind is not a material object; hence, it can be diseased only in a metaphorical sense. In his classic, Lectures on Clinical Psychiatry, Emil Kraepelin--the founder of modern psychiatry--wrote: "The subject of the following course of lectures will be the Science of Psychiatry, which, as its name implies, is that of the treatment of mental disease. It is true that, in the strictest terms, we cannot speak of the mind as becoming diseased."

If we accept the idea that the diagnoses of mental illnesses refer to real diseases, we are compelled to accept them as diagnoses on a par with those of bodily diseases, albeit the criterion for what counts as a mental disease is completely different from what counts as a bodily disease. For instance, in Psychiatric Diagnosis, Donald Goodwin and Samuel B. Guze, two of the most respected psychiatrists in the U.S., state: "When the term `disease' is used, this is what is meant: A disease is a cluster of symptoms and/or signs with a more or less predictable course. Symptoms are what patients tell you; signs are what you see. The cluster may be associated with physical abnormality or may not. The essential point is that it results in consultation with a physician." According to these authorities, disease is not an observable phenomenon, but a social relationship.

In contrast to Goodwin and Guze's assertion that mental illness need not be associated with physical abnormality, Allen Frances, the chief architect of the American Psychiatric Association's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, DSM-IV, states: "The special features of DSM-IV are ... elimination of the term `organic mental disorder' because it incorrectly implied that other psychiatric disorders did not have a biological contribution."

Linguistic considerations help to illuminate the differences between bodily and mental disease, as well as between disease and diagnosis. We do not attribute motives to a person for having leukemia, do not say that a person has reasons for having glaucoma, and would be uttering nonsense if we asserted that diabetes has caused a person to shoot the President. However, we can and do say all of these things about a person with a mental illness. One of the most important philosophical-political features of the concept of mental illness is that, at one fell swoop, it removes motivation from action, adds it to illness, and thus destroys the very possibility of separating disease from non-disease and disease from diagnosis.

Diseases are physico-chemical phenomena or processes--for example, the abnormal metabolism of glucose (diabetes). Mental diseases are patterns of personal conduct, unwanted by the self or others. Psychopathology is diagnosed by finding behavioral, not physical, abnormalities in bodies. Disease qua psychopathology cannot be asymptomatic. Changing the official classification of mental diseases can transform non-disease into psychopathology and psychopathology into nondisease (i.e., smoking from a behavioral habit into "nicotine dependence"). In short, medical diseases are discovered and then given a name, such as acquired immune deficiency syndrome (AIDS). Mental diseases are invented and then given a name, such as attention deficit disorder.

Nowadays, names routinely are given not only to somatic pathology (real or bodily diseases), but to behavioral pathology (psychopathology or mental diseases). Indeed, if we propose to treat misbehavior as a disease instead of a matter of law or social policy, we name it accordingly (for instance, "substance abuse"). Not surprisingly, we diagnose mental illnesses by finding abnormalities (unwanted behaviors) in persons, not abnormalities (lesions) in bodies. That is why forensic psychiatrists "interview" criminals called "patients" (who often do not regard themselves as patients), whereas forensic pathologists examine body fluids. In the case of bodily illness, the clinical diagnosis is a hypothesis, typically confirmed or disconfirmed through an autopsy. It is not possible to die of a mental illness or to find evidence of it in organs, tissues, cells, or body fluids during an autopsy.

To summarize, anthrax is a disease that is biologically constructed and can, and does, kill its host. Attention deficit disorder, on the other hand, is socially constructed and cannot kill the patient.

If we fail or refuse to distinguish between literal and metaphorical diseases, we confuse and deceive ourselves and others not only about the differences between treatments influencing the body and those influencing the person, but about the differences between medical treatments (such as performing an appendectomy for acute appendicitis) and medical interventions (performing an abortion terminating a healthy, but unwanted pregnancy). To be sure, there is something to be gained by not distinguishing between diseases and diagnoses, complaints and lesions, and/or treatments and interventions. It permits creation of a therapeutic utopia--a medical fairyland with "miracle cures" not only for diseases, but for non-diseases as well.

Mental diseases are behaviors

No one believes that love sickness is a disease, but nearly everyone believes that mental sickness is, and virtually no one realizes that, if this were true, it would prove the nonexistence of mental illness. If mental illnesses are brain diseases (like Parkinsonism), then they are diseases of the body, not the mind. A screwdriver may be a drink or a tool, but it would be foolish to do research in the hope of discovering that some cases of orange juice and vodka are hitherto unrecognized instances of carpenters' implements. contemporary American is so thoroughly psychiatrized that it is quite useless to demonstrate the logical-linguistic misconceptions inherent in the claim that "mental illness is like any other illness." Unless people are prepared to defy the combined forces of the state, science, medicine, law, and popular opinion, they must believe--or at least pretend to believe--that mental illnesses are brain diseases; scientists have identified the somatic lesions that cause such illnesses; and psychiatrists possess effective treatments for them. Conventional wisdom as well as political correctness preclude entertaining the possibility that mental illness, like spring fever, is a metaphor.

In short, psychiatrists and their allies have succeeded in persuading the scientific community, courts, media, and general public that the conditions they call mental disorders are diseases--that is, phenomena independent of human motivation or will. Because there is no empirical evidence to back this claim (indeed, there can be none), the psychiatric profession relies on supporting it with periodically revised versions of its pseudo-scientific bible, the American Psychiatric Association's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.

The official view is that these manuals list the various "mental disorders" that afflict "patients." My view is that they are rosters of officially accredited psychiatric diagnoses, constructed by task forces appointed by officers of the American Psychiatric Association. Psychiatrists thus have constructed diagnoses, pretended that the terms they coined were morally neutral descriptions of brain diseases, and few in political power have challenged their pretensions.

My argument may be put another way: The existence of John Smith's bodily disease--say, astrocytoma, a nerve tissue tumor--is discovered and empirically verified. Radiologists identify the tumor; neurosurgeons verify its presence by observing the lesion with their naked eyes; and pathologists confirm the diagnosis by examination of the tissues. In contrast, the existence of John Smith's mental disease--say, schizophrenia--is declared and socially verified. His alleged illness is identified by psychiatrists, who diagnose his behavior as schizophrenia; other psychiatrists verify its presence by committing him to a mental hospital, where he acquires the right to refuse treatment, which he exercises; and a judge confirms the diagnosis by declaring him mentally incompetent to refuse treatment.

Because the idea of mental illness combines a mistaken conceptualization (of nondisease as disease) with an immoral justification (of coercion as cure), the effect is two-pronged--it corrupts language and curtails freedom and responsibility. Because psychiatrists have power over persons denominated as patients, their descriptive statements typically function as covert prescriptions. For instance, psychiatrists may describe a man who asserts that he hears God's voice telling him to kill his wife as schizophrenic. This "diagnosis" functions as a prescription--for example, to hospitalize the patient involuntarily (lest he kill his wife) or, after he has killed her, to acquit him as not guilty by reason of insanity and again hospitalize him against his will. This coercive-tactical feature of psychiatric diagnosis is best appreciated by contrasting medical with psychiatric diagnosis. Diagnosis of bodily illness is the operative word that justifies a physician to admit to a hospital a patient who wants to be so admitted. Diagnosis of mental illness is the operative word that justifies a judge to incarcerate in a mental hospital a sex criminal who has completed his prison sentence.

So long as there are no objective, physico-chemical observations shown to be causally related to depression and schizophrenia, the claim that they are brain diseases is unsubstantiated. In the absence of such evidence, psychiatrists rest their claim that these major mental diseases are brain diseases largely on the contention that drugs keep the disease processes "under control." The absurdity of this claim lies in its own consequences.

Diabetes is kept under control by insulin. When patients stop taking their medication, the disease process flares up and kills them. Lupus is kept under control by steroids. When patients stop taking their medication, the disease process flares up and kills them.

This is not what happens when patients with serious mental diseases stop taking their medication. Depression is kept under control by antidepressants. When patients stop taking their medication, the disease process flares up, but the disease does not kill them. They kill themselves, an act psychiatrists attribute to their so-called mental illness. Schizophrenia is kept under control by anti-psychotic drugs. When patients stop taking their medication, the disease process flares up, but the disease does not kill them. They kill someone else, an act psychiatrists attribute to their supposed illness.

If we restrict the concept of treatment to a voluntary relationship between a medical practitioner and a competent client, then a coerced medical intervention imposed on persons not legally incompetent is, by definition, assault and battery, not treatment. Psychiatry is thus a systematic violation of this legal-political principle, one that is especially odious because most persons treated against their will by psychiatrists are defined as legally competent--they can vote, marry and divorce, etc. It is important to keep in mind that, in a free society, the physician's "right" to treat a person rests not on the diagnosis, but on the subject's consent to treatment.

Regardless of psychiatric diagnosis, the typical mental patient is entitled to liberty, unless convicted of a crime punishable by imprisonment. If that patient breaks the law and is convicted, then he or she ought to be punished for it as prescribed by the criminal law. In a free society, a person ought not to profit from psychiatric excuses or suffer from psychiatric coercions.

Thomas Szasz is professor of psychiatry emeritus, State University of New York Health Science Center, Syracuse.

Copyright 2000, Society for the Advancement of Education in association with The Gale Group and LookSmart. COPYRIGHT 2000 Gale Group

        

This is for the useless little cocksucker whose identity comes from the fellowship toilet where he's just another floating turd.  He will go down with the next potent flush...
_______________________________________

Too many times we see those expousing principles like honesty and willingness-forget about openmindedness-who have the trancendentalist view.  That these principles are divinely bestowed comes as the underlying message, even with those who act as the agnostic, who used to act as a believer.

The agnostic is an asshole.  Wishy washy to the end.  Hopefully the end comes soon and anonymously for these.

Most atheists become secular humanists-the worst philosophical trash, along with the theists, of whom Christians seem the worst.

Spirituality is a ruse, a sham.  It is all contrived, like everything else and has no lasting significance.  I do not respect the opinions of those who ascribe to it since they always try to assign it a universality which does not exist.

I spin off the energies here and empower the drive to find and practice new realities which have joy.  This joy may come in the peace of mind and solace which comes from seeing an enemy meet his demise at the hand of one so very meek and so very deadly like the diminuitive Brown Recluse Spider.

TOO MANY OF THESE SHIT HEADS THINK THAT THE GOLDEN RULE APPLIES TO EVERYTHING.  IT CANNOT.  IT RUNS CONTRARY TO HUMAN NATURE AND ITS ANIMAL ASPECTS.  IT ASCERTAINS THAT HUMANS HAVE SOMETHING THAT MAKES THEM MORE THAN ANIMALS...NICE BUT NOT VERIFIABLE OR CORRECT.

FUCK YOU!!!!

I revel in the demise of these fools who think their disease seems like love.  They reek of the insanity that their medications cannot mask.  They are not functional with or without them and they will not do the work to eschew them.  Their disorder is not an illness, it winds up a choice and in essence, some of them really are not clean. HAHHAAHAHAHHA.

As Thomas Szasz has stated, so many times-there are no blood level studies to indicate that neurotransmitters get normalized by these substances.  What we have are medicated fools.

1  2

3

Back to spirituality....

When it comes to NA, we have "elites" which develop around interpretations of these spiritual principles.  Some of these come from the literature and others seem contextual from subgroups within the fellowship itself.  The consensus reality definitions of these "principles" seek to set standards by which individuals may be judged socially.  Too often, this posits as the idle chatter known as gossip...oh well.

Really, the only important thing in a "society or fellowship of men and women who meet regularly to help each other stay clean", seems the bottom line-staying clean no matter what happens in life's journey.  All the rest winds up the idle conjecturing and reflections of individuals.  Maybe some relate to this and it helps them stay clean.

When these sub groups form and seek to define and give universality to these principles, they pervert the whole process and it winds up self defeating, just like most of the self deprecating language we hear when we go to meetings.  When topics like happiness get brought up, very few can share on them very well or without some tranced out state that seems ill formed.

On a good day, these "principles" have a subjective meaning and practice to those who use them.  They do not have universality.  Attempts to establish this serve as nothing but control mechanisms for those with Messianic complexes.

The bottom lines remain: stay clean,don't go to jail, and do yourself as little harm as possible.  If you can get the harmful to dispose of themselves, all the better.  Finally, THE VAST MAJORITY WHO ATTEND A MEETING FOR THE FIRST SEVERAL TIMES WILL NOT STAY CLEAN IN THE LONG RUN....so the program in practice has a very low rate of efficacy...

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Anoquz!!!!

        

No Mas

We do this for benefit only.  

Reciprocity means everything. Reciprocities

Altruism, true altruism, winds up a huge joke as there will be no reward involved for pure altruistic activity, in spite of what the sappy trancendentalists tell us.

Most people practice some form of this to establish a higher social, or social-sexual value to get what they think they want.

Almost everyone has an agenda.

Men, pretty much, want pussy and power.  Women want security and protection and someone who looks like and causes them to feel like they can give it.  A lot of stupid, self obsessed decisions that hasten the fall to self destruction get made along these lines.

Companies, mostly, want to make their shareholders, or owners, more money and employees usually wind up cannon fodder, from the top to the bottom.

Families have some kind of ridiculous illusion that what they do has some long lasting import beyond preservation of the species, not knowing that most of "social" neuroevolution has that ultimate biological aim in mind anyway.  The drive to reproduce and all its social/sexual "sophistication" still remains in essence, motivated by the drive to survive and reproduce.

Of course, we have exceptions to all this, but close examination will show that they occur to a lesser extent.

WTF!!! Did you think you would escape your animal heritage and have some "God like" quality?  Did you think that you had something that resembled a creator that "made" you.  Fuck you!  How stupid can you get?  Why avoid the inevitability?  Most data will have it that no God exists.  On the outside chance it does, it doesn't really give a fuck...look around you.

We will not take the Black viewpoint on this either.  The beastikin bullshit wore out a long time ago.  Neither do we take the results only view...sometimes...ahahahahahahhahahaha.

All this bullshit rhetoric about spirituality makes us nauseous also, this crap is a joke. Why? Because on a good day, people have to contrive a definition from some kind of consensus-usually, subjective. They want to believe that some god leads them down the road to some better place to some type of paradise, either in the here and now or worse still in a future that will never come.  In the end, it winds up full of moral judgement which gets tainted overly much from individuals and their anathemas and shame issues. Most of them try to blame it on some made up deity and the moral code it represents. God crap has nothing to do with honesty and integrity.  Inhuman values don't either. Fuck you too!

The twelve step programs, while they have usefulness, in the larger scheme of things-like helping a majority of people with the associated disorders don't help enough people to deserve serious consideration.  They work for only a very few and most of them stay broken and caught up in that tainted social matrix and it's ill formed dynamics.  The messages that come from these shit dripping quasi philosophies don't make for shit in most cases.  There's just too much garbage that deals with "God" and apologists for the God mentalities.  Fuck all of you too!  I will not have time to piss on all your graves.

The fucking "journey" can posit amazing, if we stop, take a peek, stretch out the moment and create even more meaningful circumstances from there.

I have had enough of broken, fetid with issues, shitballs.  The venues that seem rife with them we now avoid successfully.  Not that we think of our colony as "better than".  We think that through avoiding human garbage, we can keep our sides of the street clean and not have to practice varmint hunting.

        

On they that have used for advantage,

that which they sought will disadvantage them,

On they that would seduce those innocent and close  to me,

HELL will find its way upon them,

On they that think they have attained,

No attainment worth keeping will come to you,

On they that would usurp,

You will find yourself USURPED and used up.

You will find yourself void and useless and it will come upon you  when you think you have passed it by.

You will feel lonely pain and know betrayal from those you thought loved you.

You will have no redemption and no mercy will grant except from those you hate who will hate you with extreme predjudice.

You will find no one to pity you.  Those that take up your cause will find other more productive things to do.  You will stay alone in your self obsessions and deceptions.

You will find yourself excluded from the fellowship's egregore,

You will know what it feels like to have and never  able to get again,

You will feel shame when you should validate and feel good about yourself,

You and anyone you enlist will never reverse this curse,

With the thorn of Thor, with the Need Fire with the standing still of Ice we curse you unto your demise of suffering and not able to die to relieve it.

Zamran Micalzodo!

        

Grace comes from the way you move,

from the way you feel in your words,

From the sweetness in your smile,

the kindness in your eyes,

considerate and tuning to the dream...


How can you get next to me?

I won't travel anymore,

or ask stupid favors,

You can get cynical when I am about to

SAY

I love you

When I am about to help you squash that belief

that you need to possess me,

that without that you don't have anything,

Ohhhh, but you so

have

ME.

I

DO

LOVE

YOU

And I will love you,

I do feel the power,

the power that makes me strong,

the power that makes you hurt and

Angry,

knowing I won't just sit in that room,

knowing that I will love you,

knowing that you give yourself up,

to your ecstasy so easily with me,

And that I know it winds up foolish for

US

to act twenty four, or even thirty seven

anymore


Will you just let it expand?

Will you just let yourself unwind

and come hard and surrendered in your love

several hundred

more times

riding me,

me

squeezing your breasts

and rolling your nipples

and crying with you

because it never ends,

And we cry again

you run away again,

you don't want to know about her,

I don't care about him,

You run

AWAY

AGAIN

        

If we look up definitions for compassion here's what we get:

Merriam-Websters  

 compati to sympathize, from Latin com- + pati to bear, suffer — more at patient
Date:
    14th century

: sympathetic consciousness of others' distress together with a desire to alleviate it

Wickipedia has a bunch:

Compassion is a profound human emotion prompted by the pain of others. More vigorous than empathy, the feeling commonly gives rise to an active desire to alleviate another's suffering. It is often, though not inevitably, the key component in what manifests in the social context as altruism. In ethical terms, the various expressions down the ages of the so-called Golden Rule embody by implication the principle of compassion: Do to others what you would have them do to you. [1] Ranked a great virtue in numerous philosophies, compassion is considered in all the major religious traditions as among the greatest of virtues.

________________________________________________________________________________________________


So, how does this fit in with all the drama about drama?  Drama seems to act like a big meme these days in the root social matrix of the written and spoken words of our contemporary society. It seems to me, after all the conversations I have interpersonally, and the reading I do, that there's much more attention getting melodramatically shed on other people's drama rather than the critics' emotional lives which might have emotional voids because they only have "positive" emotions or believe that "negative" feelings do not have usefulness.  We think the opportunity here, lies with fishing out melodrama and acknowledging that drama works as a part of everyday life for those who mostly have complete experiences of their emotions.  Sometimes the emotions don't lie.  Particularly, if they have a foundation in healthy beliefs.  Avoiding the contempory psychobabble can help us here, sometimes.

What we have seen in these social contexts constitutes a "lack" of compassion, in other words, people seem to strive more toward impersonalization and instant gratification within the context of materialism.  Yet many of the same mouthers and writers will try to espouse their own spiritual values.  We think most of this has to do with a slowly increasing trend toward emotional distancing and unavailability.  We think that it gets very abusive and perpetuates the abuse of emotional neglect that has come with the nuclear family and our modern lifestyles that have developed since the late 19th Century.

Sex has gotten very object oriented in many cases, and now even women have jumped on that band wagon to a certain extent, attempting to get more visually stimulated like the immature males in our society do.  Hey, I am just as jaded as the next dirty old man, but there does come a time when we have to kick back and consider other people's feelings and to accept and respect them for their healthiness, if they have any.  It just makes for an easier ride through this life.  In the same set of breaths, we also see that some people have too much shame to fully express their sexuality in a healthy way and this causes the verbalization of some very unhealthy thinking and beliefs that keep the whole scenario self limiting.

Dissociation from debilitating emotional experiences has great usefulness, except when it turns out to work like the order of the day.  I love feelings of ecstasy probably as much as anyone who has allowed that set of feelings to evolve, but I know that there occurs a fundamental polarity between joy and sadness.  If I don't have the sadness, the capacity for joy doesn't grow too well.

In today's world, a lot of us are very self obsessed and self centered.  Many people act very callously and have little regard for the feelings and rights of others.  Furthermore, words like respect and honor have little if any meaning and few seek to define them.  People lie and do not keep their word. 

Sometimes, it seems like the only thing we can do is to work on avoiding these types of individuals and not engage in risky behaviors with them.  We may find that the old adage that says if we can count our true friends on one hand we have quite a few seems quite valid today.

Maybe, human nature doesn't change all that much?

        

Once upon a triangulation, there came a lonely old man, full of self hate and deprecation.  He had no life of his own, and his liver had deteriorated from years of drug addiction, and the cirrhosis that accompanies.  His mind remained polluted from high ammonia levels in his blood, and his thinking was skewed on a good day.

He wanted so desperately to have good friends, and he had a great talent for writing, which had always earned him acclaim and made him a decent living.  He told people that he was ten years younger than his actual age, and the people that loved him didn't care-they knew he had the big fib going, and the joke, sadly remained on him.  His relationships with people remained Pollyannish until it came to establishing or maintaining boundaries-something he would never do.

He lied to so many people about so many things that even the most prolific of the pathological liars would not kudo him, and even the most gullible, could not take him seriously.  He had very little credibility as a friend.  There comes a point where no amount of generosity can suffice, or keep those with discerning eyes from noticing.

At one point, he triangulated himself between a promiscous young woman and a couple of her lovers.  The big mistake came that he underestimated one of the lovers.  Sorcerers do not appear regularly in social contexts, especially the type whose magics color off white.

Now this Witchdoctor, urbane as he seemed, had no compunction about cleaning up a little offal here and there.  This works like guilting people to pick up after their street and park shitting dogs.  Parks where people want to feel comfortable walking barefoot. 

We do not think him wrong to demand that people act respectfully and with courtesy, and to eschew them when he saw them act regularly, otherwise.

His dealings with the old man had caused him to distance himself too late.  He realized that his self disclosure happened erroneously, as the old man could not keep confidence, and had no loyalty where a man and a woman's boundaries seemed at stake.  He seemed predisposed to fucking up the deal, using the he said, she said, he said, of it all, to get his closer friends aced out.

The Sorcerer knew that this would have to come to an end.

It didn't take long for the old man's little game to affect our sorcerer friend.  The annoyance grew to a fester, and it grew into the time of action. 

He looked in his magical cabinets for something to spin the mix and jumpstart the karma and there it sat, a bottle, still a bit fresh for the bane of it all-Zawba powder. It had just a couple of things in it that enjoined some spirits of doom, and he had conjured them native, out rocks and graveyards and ancient Amerind charnel grounds.  Just the opening of it did not portend well and would take a thorough washing with uncrossing compounds.

The last time he used it had to do with a separation spell to help our busy little lady out of an incestous affair with a first cousin, half brother who she thought she'd marry.  The power of that little enchantment seemed to coincide with a 7.8 earthquake in California that left her half brother lost, never seen or heard from by her again.

It happened New Year's eve, 93 to 94, our squinty, handsome, sorcerous friend met them all at the door of an event venue, hugged them, rubbed the powder into their backs and went to the bathroom to wash off the bane of it all.

Upon returning, his ex fiance showed up with a most inept beau, more like, less than dufus. He ran them off with his wild eyed bane, danced the night away, mostly by himself and went home with the most beautiful latina woman there.  She fell asleep in his arms and he took her to his master bedroom, stroking her to sleep and, awoke with his member in her mouth, her slurping sounds waking him to her smiling, lustful black eyes. 

They fucked through New Years day, and to the next, and she became his partner of sorts-his divinatrix, mostly unwilling to help him with enchantments of hindrance, or revenge.  He used the sex to get to the state of exhaustion in intromission, and tossed the intention into the darkness of the Akashic records there.  Little did he know, that this constitutes the ethers, the primordial chaos where magic happens non local in space and time.  Even he did not understand what the science might seem.  It didn't matter. It got results, and he didn't worry about dharma or dogma.

So within two years, the old man got sicker and sicker, until a tumor showed up in his liver, and he died.

The former lover ran off with another man after professing undying love for the sorcerer and proposing to him, sprawled on the couch in a coffee house.  That man approached her after our magical friend told him of her longing for him.  She cooked him dinners, ironed his clothes, and saw him gamble away all her and his money.  He eventually started shooting heroin again and getting on methadone.  Now he wanders the streets; five foot six, three hundred and fifty pounds; with a 200 mg/day plus methadone habit. 

He's shiftless and drools his life away.

She's grown to outsized proportions as well, her thirty six double D's swelled to double H's and her bubble butt gone to mammoth proportions.  She's a call girl for older men who love to tit fuck and shoot on her nipples.

The old man, well, the sorcerer went to his funeral, exchanged hugs with all the bereaved, and offered what seemed like heart felt condolences.  He waited around until everyone had gone, and the old man got put in the ground and covered up.  He drank a lot of water, maybe two quarts worth, and as the dirt began to settle after the gravediggers drove away, he took a long satifying piss on the old man's grave.

        

I find it disgusting and tedious how victims will enlist people pleasers and caretakers as their minions to take on their weak and sick causes in the name of self righteousness and "spirituality". Even when they don't "enlist" them, they don't have the balls to tell these people it is none of their business and to not get involved-this passivity does not differ from the first case. Who really gets manipulated here anyway?

When something happens outside the NA fellowship that does not involve NA or what happens in NA meetings, these are outside issues that have no business getting taken on by NA "members" as NA business. 

It seems that victims are prized.  Especially, if the victim has a pussy or seems like a poor little abused soul.  The truth of the matter appears that most of these individuals thrive on this type of negative attention and use it to try to  validate themselves, but the fix seems only temporary.

We saw one such person try to bring this to the forefront in the last couple of days, and get confronted for his asshole behavior whereupon he erupted and suggested physical violence, after this, he tried to make amends for what he no doubt was told is considered "inappropriate"-he then said after this that he did the amends for him and not the person he threatened(this was physical threat number two). This of course, basically nullified the amends.(BTW: he will not get yelled at by me-if he threatens anything, legal action will be taken.)  I have witnesses to all the aforementioned incidents, including the one where he threatened my person second party, that will corroborate my statements and actions.  Any further action by he or his cronies will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

Another truth of the matter seems that, this codependent person has championed the cause of someone who is more perpetrator than victim, in order to people please, and caretake with possibly the hope of getting some pussy, continuing to get pussy, or maybe deal with old guilt because he had sex with her before when she had a lot of relapses and relapse behaviors-WTF, it doesn't matter WHY.  The fact of the matter remains that this person was hitting on the woman in question(a woman he'd had sexual relations with a few years before whom she said always hits on her when he breaks up out of a relationship-funny how he doesn't see how he's getting manipulated here) before all this happened and then deigned for friendship.  

Friendship does not involve this type of behavior-codependency does.  People need to exert their own boundaries and fight their own battles.  Helping them looks stupid and engages more enmity and severely compromises integrity and self esteem.  

In actuality, the whole thing comes from incidents which do not involve this individual or NA.  NA is not a cult, or a country, or a church.  Everything that happened does not involve NA, except this individual's behavior which happened at a venue where an event was happening.  Luckily, nothing happened except some yelling and NA's reputation was not endangered with that facility.  All the other incidents which do NOT involve this individual happened completely away from NA.

When these events get drawn into the context of NA they have crossed the line of involving ourselves in outside issues which have nothing to do with NA as a whole.  Drawing them in can compromise our relationship with the public and has nothing to do with our common welfare.

"Spiritual Principles" DO NOT have a universal definition and do not reign as law according to ANY individual's interpretation.  We all have different interpretations as to how they have influenced our experiences in recovery.  Thinking that this experience will render any individual more than human according to ridiculous idealism seems more of a compromise than necessary and borders on the idiotic.  Furthermore, giving people who have willfully relapsed for YEARS, any type of status as moral pariahs and deserving of more compassion than any other individual, borders on the worst type of insanity.  Saving the few at the expense of many, does not constitute common welfare.  This is why uninvolved parties need to stay out of these affairs.

People like this need to mind their own business and let people face the consequences of their own actions.

Too many people have shame over their sexual behaviors, and most of this comes from unhealthy beliefs about sexuality, and a lack of boundaries with others.  When these behaviors come to light, those who have no shame feel no offense and those that feel offense are FULL OF SHAME.  Shame on you for that. Shame, shame, shame.  Then when this person tries to gain social acceptability in a social atomosphere like an NA fellowship where most people are so fucked up that they can't even share about their sexuality in a healthy way-regardless of preference-they compromise the integrity they had supposedly adhered to beforehand.  This winds up as people pleasing to the Nth degree.  We still see that most of the beliefs that people have about their sexuality are ill formed from their imprinting with the Christian perversity about how sex is evil and corrupt unless it represents monogamy, and not promiscuity or polyamory.  Getting social respectability from people with severely self limiting beliefs who need to work out their own issues gets more than insane and shame based, its fucking PLAIN STUPID.

Especially when this does not involve behaviors that occur inside NA meetings.  All else remains an outside issue and has no place being intruded upon by individuals in the name of NA and "spirituality".

Intruding on the rights of consenting adults and their right to freedom of speech does not constitute respect for the freedom of said individuals.  People who had no involvement in such relationships had better stay uninvolved, lest collateral, emotional and psychological damage ensues.  There does exist a MUCH LARGER WORLD outside the confines of one hour meetings.  The meetings exist to help addicts stay clean, not regulate or control their ethical behaviors which are based in relative, subjective values, pertinent to the individual.  If some addict chooses to use drugs for whatever reason, that remains his/her choice and nothing else.  Staying clean and facing life on its own terms remains the opportunity.

So, we are telling all you gossip hounding, would be morality police, to put up, shut up, and MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!  It is you who has drawn attention to these blogs and compromised the anonymity of the addicts involved by referring them and identifying who you think wrote them by name.  It is YOU who has gotten out of line here, not the writers...

        

  
I have gone to NA meetings regularly for twenty two years. I have stayed clean since that first time.  I attend so that I remember where I came from in my active addiction to drugs.  I go to give my experience.  My experience gives me confidence when I present it, since sharing it is always an act of courage for any addict unless they're whining.  Even then, that has its value.

Relapse does not present itself as a viable option.  I have too much to lose and nothing to gain.  Drugs quit working for me long before I got clean and they no longer gave me what I looked for.  I have found more than that as a result of staying clean.

I also go because the NA fellowship consists of people who comprise a group mind-an egregore.  This egregore helps me and all other addicts stay clean if they have a desire to do so and take the action necessary to live completely abstinent from mind altering drugs that kick loose obsession, compulsion, and self centeredness.  I also sometimes, very rarely, get the support necessary to stay out of other symptoms of addiction, since addiction involves much more than just drugs.

The egregore of NA does have some inherent problems that make it hard to work with and it needs ordering.  It only has a limited use for healing purposes, but it does extremely well at helping some NA members stay clean.  We have to tell you that the vast majority of NA "members" do not stay clean and this gets ordered by the negative characteristics of the egregore. 

The chief portal through which the positive aspect works is empathy.  The fact that addicts can (nonverbally mostly) perfectly understand each other at times without possessing the skills to emote or verbalize, gives them access to the entity.  The group consciousness of this entity gets fed into through group principles like honesty and surrender.  

Then the "god" thing comes along and fucks it all up.

I have been over this again and again about the religiosity of all this, but the real point remains that what we have here seems like an unordered egregore which has gotten deified, and whose invocation has inconsistent results.  Supposedly, this god form has only a loving and caring nature, but we have not seen that in the results around us.  We know that this comes from the unstable nature of its formers, for the most part.  No wonder so many of them get swept out the door on a cloud of religious zeal....good riddance!

Sometimes I think the whole motherfucking entity ought to get scrapped and remade-not just personal portals.  The whole thing seems like trying to turn a hot, beer shit into gold-not the kind of alchemy this old magician had in mind.  The sentience here winds up unwarranted and the personal portal needs to get shut off.

I have gone on to realize that the power of this egregore resides within me and the power remains greater than my addiction, and protects me from harm when I allow it, unlike the unhealthy portals that the religious determinists in the fellowship have constructed.  

Next, a group of us will embark on a new project to form and order this egregore to serve us instead of serving it in its overall ineptitude...it could have turned out worse...UGGGGHHHH  Alcoholics Anonymous(puke).

        

FIRST COURSE...


He found this great little restaurant years ago when he'd gone to college while living in this neighborhood.  He loved living in this neighborhood.

She gave him these cute little gifts. She had such a penchant for that and they seemed so smart and so fitting.  She had that beautiful smile, those big, green eyes, and that southern accent that made his clear ear-the ear that didn't ring from standing in front of a Marshall stack for years-feel warmed from the tiny melody in her voice.

She held his hand over the table.  Her hands felt soft and velvety..."You know Michael, I love you very much..." her eyes got watery, and she sighed.  He'd been very sick and didn't have all his usual presence...

"I know you do, and I love you with all that I have as a man..."

His eyes, almost black, looked deep into her and he thought about a graveyard where he'd thrown a little bag of cursing accouterments.  The vortex, the black hole, the whirlpool of doom, seemed finished for this one.  This graveyard held his ancestors, all killers for the most part.  He seemed a little different.  He didn't shoot people in self defense, provoked or not.  He would rid the planet of them before that.  Sometimes he could see them in his path, far in advance, and send them somewhere they thought they would rather go.  People seek their own doom, mostly.

"Honey?", she looked at him, she knew he had gone to that space between the worlds he walked in. "Honey, you know I love your darkness...", she did, she had a malevolence that made him harden quickly.  He would fuck her with all he had tonight.  She could see that, started shaking, and almost broke a sweat-something she hated.  She hated sweating, unless he stroked her pussy at a furious pace for several minutes, sweating all over her in the desert summer, that air conditioning only masks.

She continued with a forced confidence, "...I need you present here, now...", he came back with this mix of sex and death, so delicious. 

Their dinner came, she hesitated to let go of his hand.  His dick went half hard.  He ate at a slowed pace, talking with her.
 
"Fucking NBA Finals!" he sneered at the television with a growl. 

"Yes dear, I hate them too.", she despised professional sports, even though she watched college football with him, and enjoyed it.  He wouldn't watch it if his alma mater had a bad year. 

She drank her coffee, he drank his tea.  She took him home for his birthday night.

"Sex?", she lit up as they went in the door.

He looked intent at her, kicking off his shoes, "Say it, honey!"

"I want you to fuck me.  I want you to let me suck your dick...", her face seemed pleading now.  Her hair looked so smart and framed her just right with white, black, blond, and strawberry blond streaks.  Her lipstick, like always, seemed perfect.

"Go wash yourself up...", he kicked off his pants and boxers, picked them up put them over the valet behind the bed..."bring the wash cloth for me..." he sat on the edge of the foot of the bed, his cock throbbing for her.  She was naked now.  Her skin pale and blemishless.  Her nipples, palest pink, very taut, her breasts very perky.  She knelt down, washed him carefully, and took him into her mouth.

In her mouth, he felt connected to her, like he felt with her mind and her heart.  She listened to him the first two years, before they lived together, when they dated and enjoined their cats.  She made great efforts at times, in between bouts of narcissism and depression.  Her passion for herself seemed to pass on to him at the right times.  His libido seemed to wax and wane concurrently, but his emotion and lust for her love and her mind never seemed to abate itself.

She had innovated his request for the soft mouth on his corona, softly swirling her tongue and hand pumping his shaft with a twist; a gentleness and fervor that could rise semen out of crenated balls.  The fire snake rose up his spine and the centers in his pelvis, solar plexus, and heart, warmed too-the buzz in his right ear pushed hard and streamed out of the top of his head. 

He moved backward onto the expanse of the bed, and she moved on him like he usually did on her ,with soft kisses, and a caressing tongue, moving to deliciously assault his nipples.  She reached his mouth and gave him soft, deep kisses, instead of the usual, open mouthed, tongue mauling he did not much care for.  Her tongue lapped him and suckled him like a special dessert, his mouth an icing on this velvet cake she continued to create. 

She took his cock in her right hand and jammed it into her swollen pussy, sticky wet.  She did the East Texas version of the Roman Strut on him; she thought she liked him supine.  She spread her legs wider, her knees at forty five degrees, and when she got tired-he usually did most of the work, after all she was a Venus-he furiously thrusted back to hear her delicious moans and comments that precluded any music in the background. 

She built up to her first orgasm, volcanic.  It ended with an "Oh, Michael, you motherfucker..."

He allowed her intromission, felt his love for her.  She tranced dreamily, limp on top of him, resting her usually aching knees.

He kissed her neck and shoulders, slid from underneath her and began kissing her back.  Her white, lightly freckled skin flushed, and she rolled over.

His passion came from cunnilingus, from seeing her build, and erupt and erupt.  He loved hearing her voice change and the ecstatic tortures she endured in her long journey-usually twenty to thirty minutes(psych meds)-to orgasms from this. 

This time he kissed and licked his way from the back of her knees to her inner thighs, racking her with so much sensation it felt almost painful.  She moaned and screamed throughout this, and it drove him with great ardor.  The cats ran under the sofa in the living room.  Her cat always got especially jealous.

He had so much variability in his technique.  It intuitively matched her sexual passions and emotions-the touches she needed and craved.  Her clit stretched deep in his mouth, kneaded by his teeth, whilst getting sucked and tongue swirled and flicked.  The first two fingers on his left hand massaged and stroked her g-spot...she got wet, wet, WET...

This rose and built, she stopped him several times in between mini orgasms, until finally, she turned bright red, and came loud and hard, le grand morte.

She recovered. 

"My turn, nailcakes...", she got on her knees after kissing him for several minutes to get him hardest.  He stroked up the last inch and began his slow, doggy style pushing into her, her looking back, groaning, smiling and laughing.  The details of this pounding, remain past tense and semi-private, and when his cock had expanded to its ejaculatory burst, painful and purple, he shot deep and hot into her, groaned for several minutes, pulled out, laid face down, and moaned into the long intromission that gave him union with the invisible luminosity of the darkness he oozed.

She made her usual list of tirades and demanded validation, which he gave sparingly.  It kept her tense and wanting more, more from him, only.

She tried to command him to curse the downstairs neighbor, a drunken fool who played his classic rock too loud, too often.  He knew he better leave this one alone to torment her, just in case he'd leave her. 

We would all leave her to her madness and daily threats of suicide.

She needed no cursing in spite of her lies and indiscretions.  She told him that he would never have a more loyal and greater friend, and that they were life long companions. 

He did not respond.  He would love her for the rest of his life, from somewhere else.

        

Get into the body...of course.

It seems difficult for us men and for you women who've gotten imprinted or conditioned that way.  It seems like we have this belief that if we figure everything out, we will have power over it, and that power will diminish any negative effects of our situation.

Thinking away our emotions may get a little impossible.

Feeling them can help us understand ourselves and what we want to do about where they come from.  We may have to know  things, in advance of re engineering, that cause the feelings to get out of balance.

A big hurdle on that one seems to come from those who tell us what balance consists of.   Too many times, this comes from a perspective which aims to dim the emotions, except the ones that produce the perfect automation for our society.  It gets like a list of don't feel this, don't feel that.

The new science literature seems to show that emotional pain and physical pain come from the same place in the brain.  Some research seems to indicate that the emotional pain gets more intense than the physical pain...so everybody's a wuss except those who have the dissocations that come from suffering severe traumas, and we know that those states do not make a healthy individual.

Furthermore, the pain of social rejection may hurt longer as it may tend to come back over and over again, whereas most physical pain, in the physically healthy individual, will go away and not return, except in some chronic illnesses.

So we find that we can look at these things, create beliefs that say we feel happy, since our immediate social network has gotten so large that it doesn't matter if some reject us and some don't. We will still feel some pain of the rejections, but we can also focus on the people of quality who matter.  People who honor our feelings and facilitate us in feeling them with out caretaking us.  They do this through telling us their experiences in similar contexts.  Those with the victim mentality will do us no good here since the toughened survivor now thrives from going through the pain that had necessity and avoiding the unnecessary pain.

So we go into the body where the pain comes from.  We notice the direction it moves in.  We speed it up, we change its direction, change its color, or give it a color if it has none and speed it up again. 

When we start remembering, we feel the intensity of the feelings, if there's a mental movie associated with them we can run it forward to the end of the pain and then run it backward at high speed, dulling the appearance, the sounds, the feelings, smells, tastes that seem to prevail to the moment where the pain begins. In doing this several times, things can change and the memory dissociated in a healthy way.  Then we can run the movie that leads to our happinesses and make it the ultimate experience.

When we go into our bodies to feel again, if we have done this work with calibrations, we may have a fuller range of emotions and talk about them if we wish.  We men can have creative observations and thoughts, and women can have a beautiful set of emotional openings.

 

        

In my mourning door

you come this morning

you drop your tools for your chores,

you open your arms,

inviting and finally kissing me,

but not relaxed, not just yet,

Your lips slighty wet,

your eyes watery,

seeing me

with the love making face I have for you.


I can see that you have begun to love me,

your head drops and you almost weep when I tell you

how much I LIKE you,

I so very much do LIKE YOU,

You know that that when I decide to love you

with that bluish green force of desire,

that purple halo will form around us,

we will join and couple,

and cuddle in our fires.


Someday soon you will choose to come stay,

and come

and tell me that you will,

You WILL,

And as I hold you, and our present spreads

like sunset colors,

the future stays planted with

seeds I sowed many years ago.


And so,

In my mourning door

you come this morning

you drop your tools for your chores,

you open your arms,

inviting and finally kissing me,

but not relaxed, not just yet,

Your lips slighty wet,

your eyes watery

seeing me

with the love making face I have for you.

        

It would seem so easy to lay down and passively let the world run over me.  Instead, this colony of selves can avoid the impasses-and does, mostly.

We have had  some trouble in not staying away from dysfunctional relationships or having relationships where we had skewed expectations.  In the addictive realm of this, we sometimes have not heeded the information in front of us.

Example: So and so has had problems before because they do not practice healthy behaviors and have not made the belief changes that will allow that.  People have come up to us and told us of these experiences and when our desires got in the way of our common sense we made a poor choice.

Mostly, our attempts at monogamy haven't worked out because we didn't want them to, and because monogamy seems fraught with frailty.  We didn't get key components of our wants.  We did not see ourselves staying in an idyllic romance with one woman for a lifetime-it just doesn't fit-and there's nothing wrong with us because it doesn't.  It took a great many experiences to accept this, and it doesn't mean that monogamy does not represent a viable choice.  It may work for us someday.

___________________________________________
  

If we used these internet venues to look for women to engage with, we would certainly have little success, as most women want an idyllic, monogamous, romance, and we will not act dishonestly.  We do not enjoin ourselves as Mr. Right, but instead as Mr. Right Now. 

The most important thing comes from learning as much as we can about women.  We strive to meet women of value, and we do.  We also meet those who have great wounds and lots of emotional/behavioral problems-hence little value as a partner or lover.  Sometimes, we make a wrong choice, but it has been less and less.

Of course, we will get asked what comprises this value.  It has to do with intelligence, self esteem, body image, emotional availability, success in life, sanity, and of course, eros.

We have found that quite a few, not all, women these days, seem out of touch with their feelings. When I ask a woman how she feels about something I see that stirs my intellect, it tells the whole tale. 

We hear people, in general, telling each other to get over their emotions before they have had a chance to process them.  We know that this seems endemic in our society and all its impersonalizations.  Neither sex seems to have much of a choice about staying up in their heads.  Maybe we have come to think that if we figure out our emotions, we won't have to feel any that may involve pain, like sadness and the feelings of grief.

We see a lot of avoidance when it comes to this.

Nobody likes pain.  Nobody likes to feel the pain of rejection, or abandonment, although some of us have gotten healthy callouses in this area.

Too many times, when we ask a woman how see feels she goes up into her head for an answer. It gets all about the "I think...".  This doesn't engage us.  It can't.  Men really don't have the emotional makeup to feel affection and love for most women who go up and stay in their heads.  With the emotionally, intellectually, adult male, physical sexual attraction for a woman may not last without an emotional component.

So, in the proverbial stroll in the moonlit meadow when we ask her, "Wow, the smells and sounds of tonight...the stars seem so many.  The moon, so pale and silvery.  How do you feel about all this?"

We hope that she can, and will, answer from her heart. 

        

A QUEEN AND I

She rarely seats her throne.  She's too busy, but seeks me out as I Kingly conjure.  She surveys her domain from the ethers and she's so beautiful that I shapeshift into all the creatures she loves and plays with.  She dances for me in the costumes that only a sorceress can wear, but she dances for herself in doing this, as she has great creativity.

She has great passion and verve.  Her tenderness seems incomparable and she multiplies into several selves that excite and enchant the King in me.  She rarely does this just to please me, even though it does, greatly.

We rule adjacent kingdoms and advise each other.

She has beauty with her dark hair and eyes that I cannot describe.  She loves me because I do not need her. 

She has a black schooner that sails through the night faster than a hydrofoil and she lounges on the deck naked like Belit, the Queen of the Black Coast waiting for King Conan. 

Her descriptions of things come from her feelings when I tell her what I think.  She came to me the Tantrika Empress to my Tantrika Emperor.  She gave me the common thread, smiled, and kissed me long and tenderly, her tonque caressing mine and the inside of my mouth.

I had gone to my cave to cry out my sadnesses.  I beat the drums, fought monsters in the astral plane.   I danced my Kingdom to a new place.  The vortex swirling beneath all those that had motives to detract and destroy.  They sought out their doom.

She tried to come into the cave but could not, so she camped at the lake in her lavish tent, waiting for me to finish.  She left and came back after a week.  She would take my pain and I would take her fears.  We walked hand in hand, again and again.

We do not appear respectable to our subjects.  We do not have to.  They remain loyal since we rule tough and benevolently.

She proposes a union.  I think about it three weeks and accept, asking how she feels.  She feels love and affection, and respects me.  I feel strong love from confidence and courage, walking through the fear and she consumes my pain, again.

What happens next winds up so exquisite, it must remain unwritten...


©2009mhumunuculero  for Black Sunshine

        

SQUIRMING ENDEARMENT



Greatness in silent force,

Force that comes from the touch

the touch unfelt

So light and continuous,

Smoothed

like tears of joy,

like when she comes up from behind,

when she poses,

when she would endear herself.



She endears herself slightly.



Monthly waning moons

and old goddesses remembered

the quaking,

the quivering

the fervent insistence,

she does not give up,

like the unborn children passing out of her...



The growl of throaty grunt,

the hunch of beastly stealth,

the wait of night

of sweat dripping on her

meeting thrusts with thrusts


It has gotten creative now...



FOR: D, P, J, AND M

        

He told her she was beautiful.  He revered her for what he thought she could be like, but her reality seemed mostly emotionless and contrived out of how she thought it should look.  She skipped around like a little girl, and he kept her close, by rejecting her ever so lightly, and pulling her in-a cheap trick.  A cheap trick that few other women would fall for.  Porn style, pseudo love fucks won't hold value that lasts.

Other men hang around her to people please and hope that she will fuck them.  Where the misperceived power used to come from "yes", it now comes from "no", but she still attracts the ones who cannot engage women of value, like this thing of a lover she has now.

His mother lives as an adultress, burn victim; his father a schizophrenic, child molester.  His abuses seemed many.

He retains no value and it expresses great evidence.  He came from nowhere and will go nowhere.  All he can do seems like an internal rant of impotent misanthropy.  His mind seems filled with the kind of megalomania which will find no justification. 

Now he would try to change on his own, yet that which had given him change gave a false image that could not hide his ineptitude.  The incomplete work seemed left that way on purpose and no one that could, will help him.

She thought him such a prize with his insights that reeked of stupidity and boorishness.  She has a half a mouthful of teeth-all rotten, and a bastard kid in tow.  At early twentysomething, most of her body looks thirty five-it looks sad, very sad.  Hopefully, she won't have more offspring, especially any from this fool with broken genes, full of inherited madness.  She seems pitiful, but her situation came from willfulness.

There seemed a set of affections, but it came from caresses based in addiction that will not resolve without the work, and they have wound down unemployable and unacceptable.  What they think of as love winds up on a good day as enmeshment.  They speak for each other.  Him like someone half educated, stilted at best.  She like an angry little teener.

It all seems so wonderful and childlike and hopefully stays hidden away.

They wander from shack to shack and sordid little room to sordid little room professing this "love".

Possessing this penchant for something that can posit as nothing more than attraction and infatuation of the worst type.

There's no real process, no real resolve, only that which will wind up a nightmare.  They will take money from the system and put nothing back to anything, except irresponsibility and stupidity.

She wants acceptance from some of those who once criticized her for living open and free with her sexuality, but how can she gain respectability from the disrespectful.

They think they will survive and have a bright future as only cattle can.  Cattle that turn into offal, easily.

So it goes when manure seems like a prize, only to find reverence from a shit eater.

So where will the positive set of outcomes arise?  Where will the change in belief and attitude come from? 

How will anyone find humility in arrogance?

        

She leaned up against the wall.  Her head cast downward, as if in shame.  The wall held her up in the darkly shaded alley.  She had gone beyond fatigue and seemed so tired.  Tired beyond exhaustion.

This vapid state she held could only find itself filled the old way.

He walked down the street full of himself, smiling, his walk almost a dance.  She could feel him.  It almost angered her; she got a bit irritated at his energy.

She had to look up.  He got closer, ready to pass by the alley.

She stood up, straightening out of that tired gloom, her black hair glistening, straight and thick in strand and profuse out of her scalp, yet so soft and billowing. Her eyes had a dark carmine that turned black in the light-almost unfathomable. Her body moved lithely, too beautiful to describe.  Ageless like alabaster, her skin so milky white, without freckle or blemish.  To the touch, thick and smooth, soft and creamy, just enough to meld into.

He saw her at once and looked away, the way that darkness and light join and seem repelled.  She stared at him, he turned to her and smiled like the sun, stopping to lean up against the red bricks of this building, fifty feet from that alley.

"You're looking for me again," his grin took up her whole vision.  She had to possess him.  He would draw her in, own her, and she had to let him in a strange equilibrium that gives all to them who want very much, yet need very little.

"You found me...", she wouldn't let herself smile, appearing placid.  She came closer.  He edged away.  She came closer, he touched her and backed off, standing open, hands at his sides.

His blood flow wanted to change.  His eyes got watery.   She dove at him and he embraced her.  Her kiss seemed so perfect like all the great kisses she gave in all her forms, even when she came like day and he left like night.

They fell back in that alley on a mattress and stripped down.  She plunged upon his hardness and he dove, slick, to her soft wetness and they came, but not like humans.

They came in the union, never separated.  She sucked him out and he filled the vacuum with radiance and glow. Light and darkness-never really separate, never in a union it seemed, yet always joined in boundless luminosity...













©2009mhumunculero

        

Why I am not a Satanist


It's plain and simple: it's too limited.  It's too self limiting, it's outdated, it's too single focused.  Also, too many of those associated with it display idiocy and close minded attitudes; dogmatic approaches like someone deaf in one ear who makes too many hard, black and white choices.  This, of course, exempts the "friends" I have enjoined in my social networking misadventures.

To wit, most of these self professed "Satanists" do not practice magic-thank Chaos.  They mostly have amateurish, philosophic jibes to poke around with every day like most of the other armchair "mages" we have seen.  We find all these types boring and tedious, like those of many other persuasions.

We have seen those who have a greater feel for all of this, who embrace expanded versions of the Black Paradigm.  They have done their practice with much training, usually in several different disciplines and magical paradigms,  and exemplify what it means to really do the deal.  Most of them come from magical backgrounds of long experience and we respect and honor their knowledge.

As for these little pipsqueaks trying to be the big, bad egomaniac.  We walk the other way, knowing them to be target practice for apprentice predators who we conjure in moments of boredom for later vignettes of entertainment when bad TV and movies have run out.  We see these little twits waiting for buses, going between hovels wearing their black shirts and traveling with less than appealing company.  We see them in their social impotence in as much as we would see a dog or a cockroach scrambling down the street.  Most of them seem too hard headed to make any real headway in life, never succeeding in anything of purpose or real personal value.  Usually, they're mentally disordered and broken.  Hopefully, they will abandon this nonsense for something more life enhancing, but then again, that requires work.  We sent one recently to our physical trainer and he wimped out after one session, going up in his head for other rationalizations that do not work.  We have seen many of them over the years.  We see them at metal concerts, mostly-poseurs of the lowest order.

We leave you with this higher order equation(pardon the poor image):

        

The Mother

Mondo does not have a mother, nor does he need one.

He exists as a persona with some attributes of the mundane colony know as WE, or in the main sense-ME.

Much of what he has written in this blog over the last four years has to do with the mundane manifestation.  Mondo does make himself clear upon occasion, but not as a doppelganger or Higher Self, etc.

The mundane self has a mother.  She is a good woman and has lived a very full life.  She had a difficult childhood, growing up in the Great Depression with five sisters and a father who was over fifty at the time who could not find work.  The father and mother had a verbally and emotionally abusive relationship, and this transferred via the mother to most of the daughters.  Mundane self's mother, hereto referred to as my mother, had a lot of problems with anger and consequently shamed her own children for feeling it.  It took years to get over it.

She did love her children, but neglected them through her absence much of the time, thus they had problems with emotional unavailability,rejection, and fear of abandonment-making poor choices in their relationships attempting to resolve their childhood conflicts.

Mondo's mundane self may have turned out much worse if not for the love he did receive.  He has gratitude for that.  However, it did not prove sufficient for having a functional emotional life and lots of work had to be done to get a semblance of functionality.  Today, he wonders if he didn't get too much. LOL.  

We do not blame the mother, she did very well and has acted very supportively for many years of our adulthood-as she should have.  She had a failed relationship with our father(twenty one years of marriage, till death did they part) and her next husband after his death, so role modeling for monogamy did not have a positive effect.  Unfortunately, it came from a basis of pain, betrayal, and infidelity that made me hate my father for these things.

Despite all this, our mother made great effort to show us love in the ways she could.  We love her for that.  She's now approaching eighty seven years old and remains very lucid. We stay in contact and see her regularly.  We have clear, maintained boundaries with her based in love which do not allow her to treat us like a child.


Now comes the rant....


We see that the mother in her Western Archetype here in this country, has the chief role for fucking things up between men and women.  It usually is the mother that indoctrinates the daughter in the relationship contract-that monogamy is preferable and a must for her survival and happiness and that it has strict criteria to follow.  We won't go into that, many documentations of this dysfunctional conditioning exist for your perusal.

Also, it seems that the mother fucks up her sons even worse, and the father, not having asserted himself otherwise and eschewing the contract in many cases, particularly continuing monogamy, does not serve his sons well either by nuturing them away from the mother's bullshit, which should have gotten deconstructed to start with.

Throw in all the other dysfunctions of modern nuclear families and we have the shitty state of our society.  Not to say that some have made inroads out of this...damned few.

So we think that the mother's influences with her inherited contract, ought to get erased from our belief systems, so we can stay expansive.  In this manner, we can love her with clear boundaries and have a happy life as we have done for the most part.

We do not think this will occur without focused belief change and replacement with new, more workable beliefs.  The novice, attempting this through his/her mental control will not succeed and will wind up going back to the model of failure they have adopted previously.

It's a motherfucker.

        

Higher Power     Recent Past Love Situation Love & Me Love Challenges Near Future     Foundation		Long-term Potential
		Advice
		Significant Other
		Blocks & Inhibitions

THIS DEALS WITH MARIA, CHRISTINA, T, D, P, JEANNIE(whom I will never see again, whew!), AND SOME OTHERS BUT NOT V(Cb whom I never loved as a woman loves a man, romantically...)

Let me say that I still love all these women and that I do not fall in love.  That foolishness is for children and people who are stupid.  Love is practical and positive and not based in addiction, like so much of it is today.  Just because I am not with any of these women does not mean that I don't still love them and it doesn't mean that I long for them-I don't.

Your Interpretations

Love & Me: Seven of Wands

POSITIONAL (MAIN) MEANING
A positive attitude and strong potential prime you to achieve something exceptional in the relationship arena.

The card in the Love & Me position touches on an aspect of how you perceive yourself right now.

The Seven of Wands in this position points to a personal breakthrough or a moment of triumph. You have done a lot of work on your ability to relate to others and are at the peak of your potential.

You are a winner even if the proof hasn't manfested just yet. With such a positive attitude and strong potentials so carefully cultivated, you are bound to make a strong showing with regard to the relationship itself or something that involves you and the other person.

GENERAL MEANING
This suit, most often called "Wands" and sometimes called "Rods" or "Staves," represents initiative, ambition, drive and desire. This is the suit of enterprise and risk-taking.

The Seven of this suit generally shows a person who is nearly always successful in working her or his will in the world. This is a person who is truly gifted, standing head and shoulders above the rest, a standard-setter and exemplar that exceeds previous conceptions of what is possible.

In historical Tarot, this person would most likely be portrayed as an admired and feared warrior who has vanquished his adversaries against all odds, but nowadays such an outstanding feat could just as easily apply to the world of the media, politics or business.

Beware of creeping smugness that can be hinted at by this card. Being successful does not make you invincible, and it does not protect you against errors! Enjoy your "fifteen minutes of fame" and then get back to your tasks, or your head will swell, to the detriment of your ability to succeed again.

MEANING of POSITION
The card in the Love & Me position touches on an aspect of how you perceive yourself right now.

The Love & Me position represents your personal identity in the Now, your only real point of power. It's not about you in an objective sense, but rather a reflection of how you perceive yourself. It points to an aspect of your self-image, outside of how others might see you.

Consider the meaning of the card that lands here in light of your inner experience, your personal perspective about yourself and the issues you bring to this reading. Who are you? What kind of attitude or energies are affecting you right now? What do you want? It's not always easy to know yourself. Clarity about values and roles is essential for skillful behavior. Values evolve, but don't be too attached to roles -- they can change.

Your attitude is of primary importance here because, more than anything, it supports a capacity for happiness, success and love. How are you contending with fears that arise? What aspect of yourself is in need of development here? Is there any attitude that may be in need of change?

The way you perceive yourself may prove to be accurate or inadequate as the reading unfolds. You may want to take a second look at this position at the end of the spread.

---

Love Situation: Eight of Wands

POSITIONAL (MAIN) MEANING
Your relationship is caught in a vortex of intensifying demands. There may well be a lot of fires to put out right now!

The card that lands in the Love Situation position refers to social or circumstantial factors which could be affecting your relationship at this time.

The Eight of Wands in this position indicates that you are running to keep up with rapidly multiplying developments that seem to be taking on a life of their own. Perhaps both you and your love interest believe the challenge is beyond your capabilities. Being proactive may be difficult because stimulating events may demand too much of your attention.

This may not be the result of any serious weakness within the relationship, however. Perhaps you are simply treading water in a high tide of escalating consequences. This can also be an exciting, if exhausting, time in which you could be tested at every level. As your heart's desires are realized, know it takes courage to cope with the confusion of chaotic changes.

GENERAL MEANING
This suit, most often called "Wands" and sometimes called "Rods" or "Staves," represents initiative, ambition, drive and desire. This is the suit of enterprise and risk-taking.

The Eight of this suit often shows a flight of spears or staffs moving through the air in formation, as if a hidden group of archers had let fly all at once. This can refer to swiftly unfolding events, whether of intentional design or unpremeditated. There are also versions that emphasize the agricultural cycle, paralleling the yearly crop cycle with the swift growth of children into adults with children of their own.

In each case, the emphasis is on the necessity of change and the challenge of keeping up with it. With the turning of the seasons we are constantly being forced to deal with change, and there is no remedy but to live with that in mind. So, get busy -- there is no time to waste!

MEANING of POSITION
The card that lands in the Love Situation position refers to social or circumstantial factors which could be affecting your relationship at this time.

The Love Situation position provides a general context for your question -- the set and setting, the politics, whatever is going on around you that might be impacting the situation or issue you are consulting the Tarot about. This card could apply to a specific drama or dilemma that you are now confronted with.

Consider this card in light of the issues, people, and forces shaping your environment, your current circumstances. This position also refers to that which is true from the start -- i.e. the hand you were dealt. Consider the set of influences that surround you and affect your personal life. Take a look at how you have been wandering down your chosen path. Our experience is naturally affected by external factors and cycles, the ups and downs of the times. This card can offer clues as to skillful adjustments you might make.

---

Love Challenges: Three of Cups

POSITIONAL (MAIN) MEANING
Give attention to what is clearly positive in your relationship.

The card that lands in the Love Challenges position refers to ways that you can turn obstacles into stepping stones.

With the Three of Cups in this position, you may have an opportunity to support the best of what is happening around you, so leave the rest alone. Shine a warm and loving light on what is positive in your relationship. Don't waste time and energy -- emotionally or mentally -- on the negative.

Appreciate that you and the one you care about have so much to be glad for, to capitalize upon, and to build on from your shared talents, interests, and abilities. Your role is to become an effective cheerleader so that mutual morale supports the potential. You may then see some wonderful and well-deserved results.

GENERAL MEANING
The Three of this suit is often entitled Consent, or simply Yes. This card resonates with a spirit of agreement, mutual support, encouragement and teamwork.

Often pictured as three women celebrating their connectedness in a dance with lifted cups, it could also be called "sisterhood," a real mutual admiration society. It points to all the benefits of harmonious relationship.

MEANING of POSITION
The card that lands in the Love Challenges position refers to ways that you can turn obstacles into stepping stones.

The Love Challenges position helps you get the best out of your situation. It reflects the cutting edge in the situation, the learning curve whereby you can turn adversity into accomplishment -- using creativity and a positive attitude.

This card can point to recurring themes in the challenges you have faced in your life -- and to opportunities that may yet present themselves. Can you think of any patterns which are returning to affect you now? If so, try to recall how you have reacted in the past. Perhaps you can see new potentials, while noticing the hidden pitfalls too. Can you imagine a different way of responding to the situation this time around?

The wisdom of this card can help you turn surprises into strengths, blind spots into windows of opportunity. Bring creativity and flexibility to the way you go about your way in the world. Your expanding capacity wll become an asset and source of inspiration to all.

---

Foundation: Seven of Swords

POSITIONAL (MAIN) MEANING
You have proven your talents. You now have the choice between collecting your accolades or getting back in the game.

The card in the Foundation position points to influences from your personal history, your roots and background.

The Seven of Swords in this position suggests that you have proven in the past that you have what it takes to overcome all competition. Because you've done it before, you are full of confidence. You have shown yourself to be ahead of the others; you may even be considered a past master. In this circumstance it is not necessary to indulge in further heroics.

It may even be appropriate to step back and let someone who is new to the game prove him or herself. Only if you are concerned that the outcome could affect those you love or your own long-term interests might you feel tempted to make a move. Otherwise, simply enjoy your freedom in this circumstance. It's up to you whether to respond or simply rest on your laurels.

GENERAL MEANING
The Seven of this suit typically refers to mental preparedness, acquired through the use of imagination, including the rehearsing and visualizing of desired results. This card represents the positive mental habits of a natural winner. The image most often associated with this card is that of a canny warrior who has infiltrated into the enemy camp on the eve of a fateful battle, checking out their preparations and stealing their swords. Such a move is guaranteed to demoralize the enemy and undermine their performance in the upcoming confrontation.

Putting it in modern terms, one who draws this card needs to work smarter, not harder. Think long and deep, study all the angles and put yourself in the shoes of your competition. As a result, you will have such a thorough grasp of the whole situation that there will be no surprises -- and no excuses for anything but success. Skillful preparation justifies the optimism of the natural winner.

MEANING of POSITION
The card in the Foundation position points to influences from your personal history, your roots and background.

The Foundation position points to influences from your personal history, your roots and background -- factors which are important for you to reconnect with or examine. This is the storehouse of memory and belief systems which you inherited.

There can be limiting beliefs, but there can also be much value in collective knowledge and other forms of wealth which get passed down.

A review of how things have evolved to the present will help you gain clarity and perspective. In any lineage, there are assumptions about roles, identity and authority that can govern its structure for years.

Sometimes these dynamics are functional and healthy, supporting and encouraging both individual and group development. Sometimes these structures are constrictive to the point of becoming deadening and cry out for change. Let this card inspire you to view the present from a historical perspective. A new way of looking at things may result.

---

Recent Past: Knight of Cups

POSITIONAL (MAIN) MEANING
Let your longing for peace draw you into a search for deeper meaning.

The card in the Recent Past position refers to events and relationships that are just departing, recently influential but now diminishing in power.

The King of Cups in this position indicates that you have crossed paths with and been touched by a mentor well versed in the art of living. That person's energy field taught you, perhaps without words, to perceive and develop intuition and generosity.

You have had an inspiring model of emotional stability you can now begin to reproduce in your own life. Don't let this memory slip away without contemplating and replaying it over and over again. Cultivate a desire for that state of being and surrender to it, so that you will be moved to make yourself and the world better.

GENERAL MEANING
Traditionally, representing the energy of a King, this card usually portrays a watery background, with a man seated on a throne, holding the Cup of Mystery in his hand. Occasionally, his cup is fulminating like the mouth of a volcano, emanating light, but never boiling over.

The man on this card doesn't need to speak to communicate strength, passion and commitment. Sometimes he is robed like a priest or shaman. Intense and intuitive, he is a force to be reckoned with.

MEANING of POSITION
The card in the Recent Past position refers to events and relationships that are just departing, recently influential but now diminishing in power.

The Recent Past position refers to events and relationships that are just departing, recently influential but now diminishing in power. Like it or not, what's done is done -- what has happened cannot be changed or deleted.

Often what appears here is the precipitating event or realization that brought you to the situation you are seeking guidance about now. Look to this card to provide a little perspective on factors that brought you into the present situation.

---

Higher Power: Nine of Cups

POSITIONAL (MAIN) MEANING
You know there is a benevolent presence in the universe that blesses you and your relationship with another.

The card in the Higher Power position reflects the broader perspective and influence of your conscience, Guardian Angel, inner wisdom.

The Nine of Cups in this position points to great blessings and emotional abundance. Because your ego has remained pliant and teachable, your Higher Self has arranged fulfilling rewards for you and your relationship. Although you are clever and creative, in your heart of hearts you know that divine providence and synchronicity have had a lot to do with whatever success you have achieved.

Show your gratitude to a Higher Power; acknowledge that you never could have accomplished anything worthwhile without its backing. Other awakenings may come as well: that you are not alone, that you are being protected, that the Greater Whole supports your endeavors in a relationship. When you want what is best for everyone, spiritual forces arrange what is best for your union. That may seem illogical to some, but when you have experienced it, a tremendous amount of fearful anxiety goes away. You can directly acknowledge the light that shines upon you from on high. The evidence lies right here in this experience.

GENERAL MEANING
The Nine of this suit is sometimes titled Happiness, but it is also known as Victory. The image on several versions of this card often shows an innkeeper doing a brisk business and feeling very happy about it all.

The rewards of high achievement are not all monetary, however. This happiness also refers to the feelings of fulfillment that come from good service to the community and support of one's family, as well as gratitude for all the blessings in one's life.

MEANING of POSITION
The card in the Higher Power position reflects the broader perspective and influence of your conscience, Guardian Angel, inner wisdom.

The Higher Power position points to your larger Self -- beyond personality and roles -- which knows and holds your best intentions, your hopes and aspirations. This position gives you a soaring bird's eye view, serving as a reminder of the essential meaning of your life -- your relationship with your Soul.

Enjoy this moment to savor the larger view of your struggles and their value toward your growing ability to give and receive love freely.

The card in this position is a mirror of your conscience, the part of you that needs to see you living up to what you know is right, and holding others to that as well. This is the influence of your better nature, your inner wisdom -- call it "the Oversoul" or "Guardian Angel," if you like.Your self-respect depends upon keeping a good relationship with this Mature Self, the Witness Who Is Not Fooled.

In general, this card is trying to stimulate a broader perspective on your life adventure -- by referencing the spiritual, or karmic, aspects.

---

Near Future: Nine of Disks

POSITIONAL (MAIN) MEANING
An opportunity for serenity and a more comfortable life is on its way.

The card in the Near Future position indicates which way the wind is blowing with regard to your situation. If you follow the Advice card, however, you can improve on or neutralize tendencies.

With the Nine of Coins in this position it appears as if you will soon have an opportunity to be well supported and get some relief from the survival struggles that affect most human beings. The value you provide to others through your relationships has earned you the right to this amazing opportunity.

Loved ones and admirers will make sure that your time and energy belong to you for a while, to spend on whatever you please. Do not doubt that your contribution justifies the investment that will be made in you. Allow yourself to receive this benefit and step into the ease and security you so richly deserve.

GENERAL MEANING
The Nine of this suit points to a person who is financially secure enough to live comfortably. This is about someone supported by her own business, inheritance or property. This is one person in a thousand.

This fortunate individual has turned a historical accident into a personal opportunity. This is one who has the vision and strength of character to hold onto gains against all odds. Do not be fooled at the apparent ease displayed on this card -- the person pictured is at the tail end of a long and stressful process of winning the right to be taken seriously. All of this grace has been paid for several times over.

MEANING of POSITION
The card in the Near Future position indicates which way the wind is blowing with regard to your situation. If you follow the Advice card, however, you can improve on or neutralize tendencies.

The Near Future position points ahead to the natural consequences of actions you are now or will soon be taking. This card can give you a sense of which direction the wind is blowing. It may refer to the whole situation or merely to one aspect that is front and center for you right now. This is the card of impending events but remember -- you still have power to shape the way things turn out!

This is about what could happen soon -- following the dynamics of your attitude and natural temperament. This is not cast in stone, however. If you follow the Advice card you can improve on or neutralize difficult probabilities that may be indicated.

---

Blocks & Inhibitions: Queen of Cups

POSITIONAL (MAIN) MEANING
Don't procrastinate; express your heartfelt truth to your beloved today.

The card in the Blocks position points to self-undermining tendencies, areas where you could be in denial, where you could get stuck -- unless you examine yourself and make some corrections.

When the Queen of Cups comes up in this position, you may be distracting yourself too much. If so, this will keep you from hearing the still, small voice of your intuition and its deep wisdom. It may seem easier to just deny the pain or distress in your life, but in the long run it only compounds things to your detriment.

Be realistic about how long indulging in distraction can really work. At some point the emotional truth -- the truth of the heart --will have to be reckoned with. Call up your courage so that the moment of truth might come sooner. Putting off for tomorrow what should be addressed today will only increase your overall distress.

GENERAL MEANING
Traditionally, representing the energy of a Queen, this card traditionally portrays a sensitive, vulnerable, omniscient woman who offers unconditional love. She is supremely empathic -- sometimes to a fault. Her caring nature exposes her to everybody else's emotions and needs.

This person sometimes has difficulty identifying her own best interests in the midst of her responsiveness to others. As a result, she sometimes appears slightly unfocused or perhaps overwhelmed, filled as she is with "spirits". She represents the Grail Queen, as well as the Goddess of the Family.

MEANING of POSITION
The card in the Blocks position points to self-undermining tendencies, areas where you could be in denial, where you could get stuck -- unless you examine yourself and make some corrections.

The Blocks and Inhibitions position helps you be aware of the tapes you play in your head that may be perpetuating obstacles to your success. What kinds of negative messages, self-doubt or paranoid fantasies descend upon you from time to time?

Don't let them undermine your ability to be who you are and to contribute. Examine them and give them a name, and identify them as separate from you (imagining them as little demons can help). This will increase your dominion over them.

This card may point to self-undermining tendencies, areas where you could be in denial, where you can get stuck, where you might get in your own way unless you examine yourself and make the necessary corrections. It easy to blame other people for frustrations that we really have with limitations we have put on ourselves.

---

Significant Other: Three of Disks

POSITIONAL (MAIN) MEANING
There is a lot of demand on a loved one's time and talents right now. How can you most creatively accommodate this reality?

The card in the Significant Other position refers to someone you are currently involved with -- or it may point to an archetypal energy source within yourself, which supports your ability to experience a deeper love.

The Three of Coins in this position suggests that someone you are involved with has achieved some acclaim. If so, this can create an artificial imbalance between you. Look for ways to be together that serve his or her larger identity so that your forthcoming relationship does not compete with his success in the world.

Professionally and economically, the situation is great. However, as far as spending time alone together is concerned, things might be a little tight right now. In order for you to support a partner who is successful, you might look for ways to join in the engaging yet time-consuming things that occupies his or her time. Is there a role you can play that is somehow related to your partner's work? There is absolutely no purpose served by keeping your success domains totally separate - and everything to gain by learning to support each other even better than you do now.

GENERAL MEANING
This suit, most often named "Coins" or "Pentacles", is a symbol for a magical talisman that represented wealth or potential. This suit represents something supportive that is available to you -- whether it be health, some kind of talent, a material or financial resource.

The Three is traditionally the card of genius. Here we usually see a master craftsman conferring with his masons on the installation of a beautiful stained-glass window in the cathedral. This designer is often likened to Leonardo da Vinci or Michelangelo, a multi-talented visionary who has no peers in talent or productivity.

The masterwork is being proudly showcased for future generations, as an object of personal and collective pride. On some cards, the genius is portrayed at his studio, alone and burning the midnight oil, in a creative ferment -- driven to draw, paint, invent, or whatever work genius wants to bring into creation. As a subtext to the rewards of genius are the days and weeks of intense concentration it takes to solve the problems that great works entail.

MEANING of POSITION
The card in the Significant Other position refers to someone you are currently involved with -- or it may point to an archetypal energy source within yourself, which supports your ability to experience a deeper love.

The Significant Other position gives you a glimpse into some aspect of a potential mate or partner. No matter what either of you or the relationship is going through, the other person has his or her own inner experience to deal with. When you try to see through the eyes of the other, you will find that connecting becomes easier -- and more pleasurable!

This refers to the primary other person you are thinking about with regard to this reading. This card provides a window on your perception of this person -- it is not meant to be a literal or objective description of the other. This card points to some aspect of the other person's possible meaning in your life.

---

Advice: Prince of Swords

POSITIONAL (MAIN) MEANING
Hone communication and conflict-resolution skills. If childhood family patterns were abrasive, make an effort to alter that pattern for the sake of your intimate relationships.

The card in the Advice position suggests a course of action which will harmonize what you want with what is currently possible.

The Knight of Swords (in some decks, a Prince) in this position advises you to work at accepting and integrating your partner's different view of the world. To support this relationship, adversarial tendencies may need to be harnessed wisely. This knight knows he is effective when testing ideas in a debate. However, when he forgets to keep it lighthearted, he may inflict considerable damage that is difficult to repair later on.

At his best, he is open-minded and curious. He remembers how to keep the conversation impersonal and humorous so no hurt feelings are provoked. Having a clear understanding about communication styles with your partner could help motivate greater control over impulsive comments. Quiet the urge to negate your loved one in order to be 'right.'

GENERAL MEANING
This card is traditionally entitled the Knight, but in some modern decks appears as the Prince. Traditionally, this card portrays the restless mind, aroused by thoughts of offense and defense, storming around searching for a target to pounce on. He often feels slighted, has a chip on his shoulder and bristles with a hostile attitude. His usual method is to look for someone to blame for his irritation.

Furthermore, in an attitude of righteousness, he may assign himself the job of correcting the offender. Jumping easily to conclusions, he shoots first, asks questions later and is therefore often guilty of overkill. This is not to say that he does not have his heroic side; a single-minded combativeness can have its value. However, even when he is doing the right thing, he is likely to be doing it for the wrong reasons. Apt advice for this card is to deeply question your motives for what you are thinking about doing. Forethought will assist you in discriminating between righteous and unrighteous causes. Control any traces of impulsive judgement!

Occasionally you will notice in the detail on the card, that the person can be a woman rather than the expected man. There is some evidence that the tradition of knighthood included a certain number of "anonymous knights" who took mythic names and veiled their true identities. Living on the road with few or no servants, they served as free-lance defenders of travelers, champions of the little people against the exploitation of both highway robbers and the wealthy classes. Odds are that some of these knights-errant were camouflaged women, and that idea is preserved with the traditional representation of the Sword Knight.

MEANING of POSITION
The card in the Advice position suggests a course of action which will harmonize what you want with what is currently possible.

The Advice position may present a new option or direction, based on a different perspective on what could be helpful to you at this time. There may be a resource you have not accessed or a new point of view that opens your eyes to a solution or remedy you hadn't considered before. Or this card may simply reaffirm something you are already doing or planning on doing. It could even reframe the "problem" in a different manner altogether!

There may be one particular aspect of your life that needs attention. This could be an attitude, an unconscious habit, or some element of the environment that is impacting the way you take care of your relationships.

By adjusting your next move to take the message of this card into consideration, you are more likely to achieve better results. Yet there are times when even the concept of "doing" is too much. Contemplate this card from the viewpoint of possible avenues for action, if any. Then just let yourself flow gently along those lines.

---

Long-term Potential: Ten of Disks

POSITIONAL (MAIN) MEANING
The energy used to create worry and stress can be channeled in a new, more beneficial method of long-term relationship fulfillment.

The card in the Long-term Potential position points to unknowns still taking shape. It is the "wild card" yet to be played.

The Ten of Coins in this position generally indicates a long-term potential and opportunity in a relationship. Contributing positive effort and energy may be able to bring enough security and fulfillment that there's some to spare. Rest assured that you and yours will be taken care of.

Ask yourself some important questions. Does negative energy really serve you and the one you care about most? What will you do with the energy you no longer squander in fear, worry or stress? What new kind of power does it bring you to have a feeling of security? Share with others how you are doing it. Express your passion in an abundant and caring way. By operating out of positive energies, you may discover a greater sense of peace and fulfillment in your relationship.

GENERAL MEANING
The Ten of this suit represents the final result of cumulative efforts -- perhaps after generations of effort -- resulting in such abundance that it directly and indirectly supports a lot of people. One layer of meaning refers to the pride of supporting your own lineage of well-loved souls.

Imagine a flow of resources so abundant that you are filled not only with pride but also self-respect and gratitude. Such bounty can impact the destiny of many families and generations. Nobility obligates its possessors, and the obligation must be passed down from generation to generation along with the abundance and freedom.

MEANING of POSITION
The card in the Long-term Potential position points to unknowns still taking shape. It is the "wild card" yet to be played.

The card in the Long-term Potential position reveals probabilities and possible long-term results of the path you are going down. Because this card reflects the far future, you have time to consider if this is really the outcome you want to cultivate.

The deep future contains unknown factors still taking shape. This card can give clues as to the nature of these factors and the long-term result of this relationship. It can also reveal a "wild card" still to be played before all is said and done.

THIS DEALS WITH MARIA, CHRISTINA, T, D, P, JEANNIE, AND SOME OTHERS BUT NOT V(Cwhom I never loved-there's nothing there to love...

Let me say that I still love all these women and that I do not fall in love.  That foolishness is for children and people who are stupid.  Love is practical and positive and not based in addiction, like so much of it is today.  Just because I am not with any of these women does not mean that I don't still love them and it doesn't mean that I long for them-I don't.

        

Recently, a friend brought to my attention that someone in the twelve step fellowship of NA had compromised my anonymity and brought this to light, trying to inject bullshit allegations.

I love it. 

Regardless of the persona I have in that social network or fellowship, it remains completely anonymous here and I do not display pictures of my full face or identifying features, unless of course, these persons have familiarity with my cock and know it by sight.

This does not seem a commonly identifying feature, as I do not take it out in the meetings and display it fully erect like I do here, and thus does not compromise the Eleventh Tradition in any way.  I will not identify anyone here as an NA member who has their face displayed and disavow that I have ever used any such person in my sleaze and erotica.

You motherfuckers that would call attention to my true identity or anyone else's had better get your petty, small minded, asses back to your own business and honor the principles of the traditions by keeping your pissy keyboards and slanderous mouths silent.

Furthermore, let us also state that if I have used your picture and your true identity, I have also gotten your written permission.  If I do not use your true identity or name you-shut your fucking mouth-there is no legal consequence and your lawyers cannot do a fucking thing about this.

Recently at a function, someone told a friend of mine he wanted to punch me.  Keep it up, I will file assault charges and you will black mark yourself in the fellowship.

I have repeatedly told many of you NA fucks that you'd better get your personal photos off of MYSpace and FaceBook.  If you identify yourselves as members of NA, or any other twelve step program, you compromise all members of those respective programs.  We have seen too many members give their true identity and couple that with photos. This compromises our anonymity and common welfare as a whole and seems quite a bit more ridiculous than me displaying photos of my cock getting sucked on one of my websites.

I will also continue to criticize the fellowship and individual members in an anonymous way, never showing their pictures or revealing their true identities.  In the same moment, I will also constructively criticize myself and friends accordingly.

Finally, the triangulation behaviors displayed in all venues will not get tolerated.

So cocksuckers, if you have something to say, say it to my face, or if lacking in guts, call me on the phone.  If you get regarded, it will seem like you represent a piss ant, otherwise. Especially, if I have to hear this from some third party you spoke to who ought to be telling you to speak to me directly, like someone with personal integrity.

I may suffer some shock at times when confronted with other intolerable behaviors that may make me appear weak, but I assure you in those contexts that this will not happen again and you cowardly little cretins will find yourselves dealt with appropriately.

        

We stood outside the coffee shop.  He looked vaguely familiar, like someone I had hung out with briefly before.  He noticed that I had an upright pentagram hanging from my neck along with other pendants.

This man stood about six four and weighed well over 350 and looked in his early thirties. He had thick glasses and curly, brown hair.  His eyes looked squinty as he oinked out, "Hey man, are you Wiccan?"

I acknowledged begrudgingly, looking away as he spoke.  I had done quite a bit of magic in the past several months that had little to do with Wicca.

"Hey man, Wicca is my religion too.  What're you into?"

I told him that I had lived in a witch commune/coven with my former girlfriend and some other friends.

He oinked again, "Oh, I know them.  Pretty cool people."

I winced, I had quite a bit of anger towards them at this point and life had gotten a little tough, finally straightening out.

We talked for about thirty minutes.  He seemed likeable and familiar.  We had hung out on Mill Avenue in Tempe, the main drag nearest the University.  For many years, I went there to socialize.  Four or five years had gone past since the few occasions we had gotten to know each other.

He asked me to sponsor him.  He had residence at a local Salvation Army Half-way house.  He wanted a sponsor with similar beliefs.  I really didn't embrace Wicca as a religion.  I liked the pantheism. 

I took him with me to a local Wiccan oriented temple/foundation and we received reverance as teachers of magic.  About this time, I got initiated into the OTO(Ordo Templi Orientis) and met a man and woman who gave me magical inspiration and influence like never before.

TL, I will call him, and I, hung out up at Mountain Temple at his suggestion.  We got involved in some racy happenings up there which had great impact in the "magical" community.  We got involved in the Pagan Arizona Network(PAN)-a very fun organization and participated in a legendary event-The Fools Journey-a costumed enactment of the journey through the Trump cards of the Tarot.  From there, I met a host of people that I would have friendships with, lasting many years.

TL, opportunist that he seemed, also met the man and woman I mentioned and approached them about a magical organization they had deep involvement in.  I had read books about this organization and always wanted to find people in it to learn from.  As it turned out this org, had an infrastructure that engaged in the most cutting edge magic on the planet.  I had to get involved.  So we did.

We did a lot of work with them and later a couple joined us who had great stability, love, and focus.  The work we did engaged us into a "current" with great force and consciousness.  This engagement uploads and imparts great strength and magical power, enhancing positive and negative qualities in the individual.

My associate, TL, neglected his step work at Step Four in the Twelve Steps...not a good time to stop.  In fact, when doing the steps, stopping, works detrimentally.  Consequently, he did not grow away from his character liabilities and as the illuminative forces of the Meta Paradigm of magic we had undertaken, powered us up, his shortcomings got greatly amplified along with his assets.

One night, our mentor looked at him with his penetrating, decisive glance, "You're a fucking liar, Tony..."

The mentor sneered at Tony in a tongue in cheek way, and Tony, knowing that he had some dead wrong shit going on, dropped his gaze for a second in the way that betrays a slight bit of guilt. 

I could see, from my sponsorship role that he had slipped into the abyss of addictive thinking and behavior.  He definitely got into a state of grandiosity and over inflated ego.  He had abandoned a number of projects at this point and had shacked up with a woman in her trailer.   The woman having some self direction kept a look of concern upon her countenance.

Soon, the rest of us had a meeting to determine whether to maintain our association with him.  In doing so, we numbered his fuck ups and found them based in dishonesty.  We had lost our trust and decided to disengage from him unless he paid his debts and made good on promises.  He did none of this and stayed willful and cocky.  So we took the obvious action, after which, a few weeks later, we heard that he had gotten arrested-he had not gotten off parole yet, we told us about his probation earlier(parole works a little differently)-and got sent back to prison.

After he got out of prison a couple of years later, he re contacted me, but we could no longer associate ourselves with him.  It seems that he'd gone to a motorcycle mechanics school to get Harley trained, and in the meantime, had gotten run over by a municipal bus in the City of Tucson.  Of course, he collected some fairly large bucks, much of which his mother got as it turned out later.

Still, he showed up at my place in the heyday of Chuy's Revenge.  He had money, a nice ride, and quickly picked up a dancer looking to leave town.
Of course, she had a tweak on and he did too.  The whole thing got me a little irritated.  I wouldn't let him stay at my place and felt glad when he left town.  He moved to Florida for some more schooling and got sicker, so sick in his addiction that he hit yet another bottom.  The dancer helped him spend all the money before she took off. 

He told me this tale of woe in emails.  I felt no sympathy as he knew the correct choices to make.  When he asked for friendship, I rejected it soundly and have no idea where he went.  Sometimes a prodigal son makes too many attempts to return home and "Good riddance" reigns as the final quote of the day.

        

28
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΚΗ
THE POLE-STAR

Love is all virtue, since the pleasure of love is but love, and the pain of love is but love.

Love taketh no heed of that which is not and of that which is.

Absence exalteth love, and presence exalteth love.

Love moveth ever from height to height of ecstasy and faileth never.

The wings of love droop not with time, nor slacken for life or for death.

Love destroyeth self, uniting self with that which is not-self, so that Love breedeth All and None in One.

Is it not so? . . . No? . . .

Then thou art not lost in love; speak not of love.

Love Alway Yieldeth: Love Alway Hardeneth.

. . . . . . . . . . May be: I write it but to write Her name.

COMMENTARY (ΚΗ)

This now introduces the principal character of this book, Laylah, who is the ultimate feminine symbol, to be interpreted on all planes.

But in this chapter, little hint is given of anything beyond physical love. It is called the Pole-Star, because Laylah is the one object of devotion to which the author ever turns.

Note the introduction of the name of the Beloved in acrostic in line 15.



29
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΚΘ
THE SOUTHERN CROSS

Love, I love you! Night, night, cover us! Thou art night, O my love; and there are no stars but thine eyes.

Dark night, sweet night, so warm and yet so fresh, so scented yet so holy, cover me, cover me!

Let me be no more! Let me be Thine; let me be Thou; let me be neither Thou nor I; let there be love in night and night in love.

N. O. X. the night of Pan; and Laylah, the night before His threshold!

COMMENTARY (ΚΘ)

Chapter 29 continues Chapter 28.

Note that the word Laylah is the Arabic for "Night".

The author begins to identify the Beloved with the N.O.X. previously spoken of.

The chapter is called "The Southern Cross", because, on the physical plane, Laylah is an Australian.



30
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ Λ
JOHN-A-DREAMS

Dreams are imperfections of sleep; even so is consciousness the imperfection of waking.

Dreams are impurities in the circulation of the blood; even so is consciousness a disorder of life.

Dreams are without proportion, without good sense, without truth; so also is consciousness.

Awake from dream, the truth is known:16 awake from waking, the Truth is -- The Unknown.

COMMENTARY (Λ)

This chapter is to read in connection with Chapter 8, and also with those previous chapters in which the reason is attacked.

The allusion in the title is obvious.

This sum in proportion, dream: waking: : waking:

Samadhi is a favourite analogy with Frater P., who frequently employs it in his holy discourse.

NOTE

(16) I.e. the truth that he hath slept.









87
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΠΖ
MANDARIN-MEALS

There is a dish of sharks' fins and of sea-slug, well set in birds' nests... oh!

Also there is a soufflé most exquisite of Chow-Chow.

These did I devise.

But I have never tasted anything to match the









which she gave me before She went away.

-- March 22, 1912. E. V.

COMMENTARY (ΠΖ)

This chapter is technically one of the Laylah chapters.

It means that, however great may be one's own achievements, the gifts from on high are still better.

The Sigil is taken from a Gnostic talisman, and refers to the Sacrament.



85
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΠΕ
BORBORYGMI

I distrust any thoughts uttered by any man whose health is not robust.

All other thoughts are surely symptoms of disease.

Yet these are often beautiful, and may be true within the circle of the conditions of the speaker.

And yet again! Do we not find that the most robust of men express no thoughts at all? They eat, drink, sleep, and copulate in silence.

What better proof of the fact that all thought is dis-ease?

We are Strassburg geese; the tastiness of our talk comes from the disorder of our bodies.

We like it; this only proves that our tastes also are depraved and debauched by our disease.

COMMENTARY (ΠΕ)

We now return to that series of chapters which started with Chapter 8 (Η)

The chapter is perfectly simple and needs no comment.



67
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΞΖ
SODOM-APPLES

I have bought pleasant trifles, and thus soothed my lack of LAYLAH.

Light is my wallet, and my heart is also light; and yet I know that the clouds will gather closer for the false clearing.

The mirage will fade; then will the desert be thirstier than before.

O ye who dwell in the Dark Night of the Soul, beware most of all of every herald of the Dawn!

O ye who dwell in the City of the Pyramids beneath the Night of PAN, remember that ye shall see no more light but That of the great fire that shall consume your dust to ashes!

COMMENTARY (ΞΖ)

This chapter means that it is useless to try to abandon the Great Work. You may occupy yourself for a time with other things, but you will only increase your bitterness, rivet the chains still faster on your feet.

Paragraph 4 is a practical counsel to mystics not to break up their dryness by relaxing their austerities.

The last paragraph will only be understood by Masters of the Temple.


5
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ Ε
THE BATTLE OF THE ANTS

That is not which is.

The only Word is Silence.

The only Meaning of that Word is not.

Thoughts are false.

Fatherhood is unity disguised as duality.

Peace implies war.

Power implies war.

Harmony implies war.

Victory implies war.

Glory implies war.

Foundation implies war.

Alas! for the Kingdom wherein all these are at war.

COMMENTARY (Ε)

He is the letter of Aries, a Martial sign; while the title suggests war. The ants are chosen as small busy objects.

Yet He, being a holy letter, raises the beginning of the chapter to a contemplation of the Pentragram, considered as a glyph of the ultimate.

In line 1, Being is identified with Not-Being.

In line 2, Speech with Silence.

In line 3, the Logos is declared as the Negative.

Line 4 is another phrasing of the familiar Hindu statement, that that which can be thought is not true.

In line 5, we come to an important statement, an adumbration of the most daring thesis in this book--Father and Son are not really two, but one; their unity being the Holy Ghost, the semen; the human form is a non-essential accretion of this quintessence.

So far the chapter has followed the Sephiroth from Kether to Chesed, and Chesed is united to the Supernal Triad by virtue of its Phallic nature; for not only is Amoun a Phallic God, and Jupiter the Father of All, but 4 is Daleth, Venus, and Chesed refers to water, from which Venus sprang, and which is the symbol of the Mother in the Tetragrammaton. See Chapter 0, "God the Father and Mother is concealed in generation".

But Chesed, in the lower sense, is conjoined to Microprosopus. It is the true link between the greater and lesser countenances, whereas Daath is the false. Compare the doctrine of the higher and lower Manas in Theosophy.

The rest of the chapter therefore points out the duality and therefore the imperfection, of all the lower Sephiroth in their essence.

45
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΜΕ
CHINESE MUSIC

"Explain this happening!"

"It must have a 'natural' cause."

"It must have a 'supernatural' cause."
} Let these two asses be set to grind corn.

May, might, must, should, probably, may be, we may safely assume, ought, it is hardly questionable, almost certainly -- poor hacks! let them be turned out to grass!

Proof is only possible in mathematics, and mathematics is only a matter of arbitrary conventions.

And yet doubt is a good servant but a bad master; a perfect mistress, but a nagging wife.

"White is white" is the lash of the overseer; "white is black" is the watchword of the slave. The Master takes no heed.

The Chinese cannot help thinking that the octave has 5 notes.

The more necessary anything appears to my mind, the more certain it is that I only assert a limitation.

I slept with Faith, and found a corpse in my arms on awaking; I drank and danced all night with Doubt, and found her a virgin in the morning.

COMMENTARY (ΜΕ)

The title of this chapter is drawn from paragraph 7.

We now, for the first time, attack the question of doubt.

"The Soldier and the Hunchback" should be carefully studied in this connection. The attitude recommended is scepticism, but a scepticism under control. Doubt inhibits action, as much as faith blinds it. All the best Popes have been Atheists, but perhaps the greatest of them once remarked, "Quantum nobis prodest haec fabula Christi".

The ruler asserts facts as they are; the slave has therefore no option but to deny them passionately, in order to express his discontent. Hence such absurdities as "Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité", "In God we trust", and the like. Similarly we find people asserting today that woman is superior to man, and that all men are born equal.

The Master (in technical language, the Magus) does not concern himself with facts; he does not care whether a thing is true or not: he uses truth and falsehood indiscriminately, to serve his ends. Slaves consider him immoral, and preach against him in Hyde Park.

In paragraphs 7 and 8 we find a most important statement, a practical aspect of the fact that all truth is relative, and in the last paragraph we see how scepticism keeps the mind fresh, whereas faith dies in the very sleep that it induces.



46
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΜϜ
BUTTONS AND ROSETTES

The cause of sorrow is the desire of the One to the Many, or of the Many to the One. This also is the cause of joy.

But the desire of one to another is all of sorrow; its birth is hunger, and its death satiety.

The desire of the moth for the star at least saves him satiety.

Hunger thou, O man, for the infinite: be insatiable even for the finite; thus at The End shalt thou devour the finite, and become the infinite.

Be thou more greedy than the shark, more full of yearning than the wind among the pines.

The weary pilgrim struggles on; the satiated pilgrim stops.

The road winds uphill: all law, all nature must be overcome.

Do this by virtue of THAT in thyself before which law and nature are but shadows.

COMMENTARY (ΜϜ)

The title of this chapter is best explained by a reference to Mistinguette and Mayol.

It would be hard to decide, and it is fortunately unnecessary even to discuss, whether the distinction of their art is the cause, result, or concomitant of their private peculiarities.

The fact remains that in vice, as in everything else, some thing satiate, others refresh. Any game in which perfection is easily attained soon ceases to amuse, although in the beginning its fascination is so violent.

Witness the tremendous, but transitory, vogue of ping-pong and diabolo. Those games in which perfection is impossible never cease to attract.

The lesson of the chapter is thus always to rise hungry from a meal, always to violate one's own nature. Keep on acquiring a taste for what is naturally repugnant: this is an unfailing source of pleasure, and it has a real further advantage, in destroying the Sankharas, which, however "good" in themselves, relatively to other Sankharas, are yet barriers upon the Path; they are modifications of the Ego, and therefore those things which bar it from the absolute.



47
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΜΖ
WINDMILL-WORDS

Asana gets rid of Anatomy-consciousness.

Pranayama gets rid of Physiology-consciousness.
} Involuntary "Breaks"

Yama and Niyama get rid of Ethical consciousness. } Voluntary "Breaks"

Pratyahara gets rid of the Objective.
Dharana gets rid of the Subjective.
Dhyana gets rid of the Ego.
Samadhi gets rid of the Soul Impersonal.



Asana destroys the static body (Nama).
Pranayama destroys the dynamic body (Rupa).

Yama destroys the emotions.

Niyama destroys the passions.
} (Vedana).

Dharana destroys the perceptions (Sañña).
Dhyana destroys the tendencies (Sankhara).
Samadhi destroys the consciousness (Viññanam).
Homard à la Thermidor destroys the digestion.
The last of these facts is the one of which I am most certain.

COMMENTARY (ΜΖ)

The allusion in the title is not quite clear, though it may be connected with the penultimate paragraph.

The chapter consists of two points of view from which to regard Yoga, two odes upon a distant prospect of the Temple of Madura, two elegies on a mat of Kusha-grass.

The penultimate paragraph is introduced by way of repose. Cynicism is a great cure for over-study.

There is a great deal of cynicism in this book, in one place and another. It should be regarded as Angostura Bitters, to brighten the flavour of a discourse which were else too sweet. It prevents one from slopping over into sentimentality.








82
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΠΒ
BORTSCH

Witch-moon that turnest all the streams to blood,
An Oath -- beneath this blasted Oak and bare
That rears its agony above the flood
Whose swollen mask mutters an atheist's prayer.
What oath may stand the shock of this offence:
"There is no I, no joy, no permanence"?



Witch-moon of blood, eternal ebb and flow
Of baffled birth, in death still lurks a change;
And all the leopards in thy woods that range,
And all the vampires in their boughs that glow,
Brooding on blood-thirst -- these are not so strange
And fierce as life's unfailing shower. These die,
Yet time rebears them through eternity.



Hear then the Oath, witch-moon of blood, dread moon!
Let all thy stryges and thy ghouls attend!
He that endureth even to the end
Hath sworn that Love's own corpse shall lie at noon
Even in the coffin of its hopes, and spend
All the force won by its old woe and stress
In now annihilating Nothingness.



This chapter is called Imperial Purple
and A Punic War.

COMMENTARY (ΠΒ)

The title of this chapter, and its two sub-titles, will need no explanation to the readers of the classics.

This poem, inspired by Jane Cheron, is as simple as it is elegant.

The poet asks, in verse 1, how can we baffle the Three Characteristics?

In verse 2, he shows that death is impotent against life.

In verse 3, he offers the solution of the problem.

This is, to accept things as they are, and to turn your whole energies to progress on the Path.



71
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΟΑ
KING'S COLLEGE CHAPEL

For mind and body alike there is no purgative like Pranayama, no purgative like Pranayama.

For mind, for body, for mind and body alike -- alike! -- there is, there is, there is no purgative, no purgative like Pranayama -- Pranayama! -- Pranayama! yea, for mind and body alike there is no purgative, no purgative, no purgative (for mind and body alike!) no purgative, purgative purgative like Pranayama, no purgative for mind and body alike, like Pranayama, like Pranayama, like Prana -- Prana -- Prana -- Prana -- Pranayama! -- Pranayama!

AMEN.

COMMENTARY (ΟΑ)

This chapter is a plain statement of fact, put in anthem form for emphasis.

The title is due to the circumstances of the early piety of Frater Perdurabo, who was frequently refreshed by hearing the anthems in this chief of the architectural glories of his Alma Mater.



54
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΝΔ
EAVES-DROPPINGS

Five and forty apprentice masons out of work!

Fifteen fellow-craftsmen out of work!

Three Master Masons out of work!

All these sat on their haunches waiting The Report of the Sojourners; for THE WORD was lost.

This is the Report of the Sojourners: THE WORD was LOVE;23 and its number is An Hundred and Eleven.

Then said each AMO;24 for its number is An Hundred and Eleven.

Each took the Trowel from his LAP,25 whose number is An Hundred and Eleven.

Each called moreover on the Goddess NINA;26 for Her number is An Hundred and Eleven.

Yet with all this went The Work awry; for THE WORD OF THE LAW IS ΘΕΛΕΜΑ

COMMENTARY (ΝΔ)

The title of this chapter refers to the duty of the Tyler in a blue lodge of Freemasons.

The numbers in paragraphs 1 to 3 are significant; each Master-Mason is attended by 5 Fellow-Crafts, and each Fellow-Craft by 3 apprentices, as if the Masters were sitting in pentagrams, and the Fellow-Craftsmen in Triangles. This may refer to the number of manual signs in each of these degrees.

The moral of the chapter is apparently that the mother-letter א is an inadequate solution of the Great Problem. א is identified with the Yoni, for all the symbols connected with it in this place are feminine, but א is also a number of Samadhi and mysticism, and the doctrine is therefore that Magick, in that highest sense explained in the Book of the Law, is the truer key.

NOTES

(23) L = 30, O = 70, V = 6, E = 5 = 111.

(24) A = 1, M = 40, O = 70 = 111.

(25) The trowel is shaped like a diamond or Yoni.
L = 30, A = 1, P = 80 = 111.

(26) N = 50, I = 10, N = 50, A = 1 = 111.



18
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΙΗ
DEWDROPS

Verily, love is death, and death is life to come.

Man returneth not again; the stream floweth not uphill; the old life is no more; there is a new life that is not his.

Yet that life is of his very essence; it is more He than all that he calls He.

In the silence of a dewdrop is every tendency of his soul, and of his mind, and of his body; it is the Quintessence and the Elixir of his being. Therein are the forces that made him and his father and his father's father before him.

This is the Dew of Immortality.

Let this go free, even at It will; thou art not its master, but the vehicle of It.

COMMENTARY (ΙΗ)

The 18th key of the Tarot refers to the Moon, which was supposed to shed dew. The appropriateness of the chapter title is obvious.

This chapter must be read in connection with Chapters 1 and 16.

In the penultimate paragraph, Vindu is identified with Amrita, and in the last paragraph the disciple is charged to let it have its own way. It has a will of its own, which is more in accordance with the Cosmic Will, than that of the man who is its guardian and servant.

27
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΚΖ
THE SORCERER

A Sorcerer by the power of his magick had subdued all things to himself.

Would he travel? He could fly through space more swiftly than the stars.

Would he eat, drink, and take his pleasure? There was none that did not instantly obey his bidding.

In the whole system of ten million times ten million spheres upon the two and twenty million planes he had his desire.

And will all this he was but himself.

Alas!

COMMENTARY (ΚΖ)

This chapter gives the reverse of the medal; it is the contrast to Chapter 15.

The Sorcerer is to be identified with The Brother of the Left Hand Path.



26
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΚϜ
THE ELEPHANT AND THE TORTOISE

The Absolute and the Conditioned together make The One Absolute.

The Second, who is the Fourth, the Demiurge, whom all nations of Men call The First, is a lie grafted upon a lie, a lie multiplied by a lie.

Fourfold is He, the Elephant upon whom the Universe is poised: but the carapace of the Tortoise supports and covers all.

This Tortoise is sixfold, the Holy Hexagram.15

These six and four are ten, 10, the One manifested that returns into the Naught unmanifest.

The All-Mighty, the All-Ruler, the All-Knower, the All-Father, adored by all men and by me abhorred, be thou accursèd, be thou abolished, be thou annihilated, Amen.

COMMENTARY (ΚϜ)

The title of the chapter refers to the Hindu legend.

The first paragraph should be read in connection with our previous remarks upon the number 91.

The number of the chapter, 26, is that of Tetragrammaton, the manifest creator, Jehovah.

He is called the Second in relation to that which is above the Abyss, comprehended under the title of the First.

But the vulgarians conceive of nothing beyond the creator, and therefore call him The First.

He is really the Fourth, being in Chesed, and of course his nature is fourfold. This Four is conceived of as the Dyad multiplied by the Dyad; falsehood confirming falsehood.

Paragraph 3 introduces a new conception; that of the square within the hexagram, the universe enclosed in the law of Lingam-Yoni.

The penultimate paragraph shows the redemption of the universe by this law.

The figure 10, like the word IO, agains suggests Lingam-Yoni, besides the exclamation given in the text.

The last paragraph curses the universe thus unredeemed.

The eleven initial A's in the last sentence are Magick Pentragrams, emphasising this curse.

NOTE

(15) In nature the Tortoise has 6 members at angles of 60°.









22
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΚΒ
THE DESPOT

The waiters of the best eating-houses mock the whole world; they estimate every client at his proper value.

This I know certainly, because they always treat me with profound respect. Thus they have flattered me into praising them thus publicly.

Yet it is true; and they have this insight because they serve, and because they can have no personal interest in the affairs of those whom they serve.

An absolute monarch would be absolutely wise and good.

But no man is strong enough to have no interest. Therefore the best king would be Pure Chance.

It is Pure Chance that rules the Universe; therefore, and only therefore, life is good.

COMMENTARY (ΚΒ)

Comment would only mar the supreme simplicity of this chapter.



23
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΚΓ
SKIDOO

What man is at ease in his Inn?

Get out.

Wide is the world and cold.

Get out.

Thou has become an in-itiate.

Get out.

But thou canst not get out by the way thou camest in. The Way out is THE WAY.

Get out.

For OUT is Love and Wisdom and Power.12

Get OUT.

If thou hast T already, first get UT.13

Then get O.

And so at last get OUT.

COMMENTARY (ΚΓ)

Both "23" and "Skidoo" are American words meaning "Get out". This chapter describes the Great Work under the figure of a man ridding himself of all his accidents.

He first leaves the life of comfort; then the world at large; and, lastly, even the initiates.

In the fourth section is shown that there is no return for one that has started on this path.

The word OUT is then analysed, and treated as a noun.

Besides the explanation in the note, O is the Yoni; T, the Lingam; and U, the Hierophant; the 5th card of the Tarot, the Pentagram. It is thus practically identical with IAO.

The rest of the chapter is clear, from the note.

NOTES

(12) O = skidoo, "The Devil of the Sabbath". U = 8, the Hierophant or Redeemer. T = Strength, the Lion.

(13) T, manhood, the sign of the cross or phallus. UT, the Holy Guardian Angel; UT, the first syllable of Udgita, see the Upanishads. O, Nothing or Nuit.



24
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΚΔ
THE HAWK AND THE BLINDWORM

This book would translate Beyond-Reason into the words of Reason.

Explain thou snow to them of Andaman.

The slaves of reason call this book Abuse-of-Language: they are right.

Language was made for men to eat and drink, make love, do barter, die. The wealth of a language consists in its Abstracts; the poorest tongues have wealth of Concretes.

Therefore have Adepts praised silence; at least it does not mislead as speech does.

Also, Speech is a symptom of Thought.

Yet, silence is but the negative side of Truth; the positive side is beyond even silence.

Nevertheless, One True God crieth hriliu!

And the laughter of the Death-rattle is akin.

COMMENTARY (ΚΔ)

The Hawk is the symbol of sight; the Blindworm, of blindness. Those who are under the dominion of reason are called blind.

In the last paragraph is reasserted the doctrine of Chapters 1, 8, 16, and 18.

For the meaning of the word hriliu consult Liber 418.



25
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΚΕ
THE STAR RUBY

Facing East, in the centre, draw deep deep deep thy breath, closing thy mouth with thy right forefinger prest against thy lower lip. Then dashing down the hand with a great sweep back and out expelling forcibly thy breath, cry: ΑΠΟ ΠΑΝΤΟϚ ΚΑΚΟΔΑΙΜΟΝΟϚ.

With the same forefinger touch thy forehead and say ϚΟΙ. thy member and say ΩΦΑΛΛΕ,14 thy right shoulder, and say ΙϚΧΥΡΟϚ, thy left shoulder, and say ΕΥΧΑΡΙϚΤΟϚ then clasp thine hands, locking the fingers, and cry ΙΑΩ.

Advance to the East. Imagine strongly a Pentragram, aright, in thy forehead. Drawing the hands to the eyes, fling it forth making the sign of Horus, and roar ΧΑΟϚ. Retire thine hand in the sign of Hoor pa kraat.

Go round to the North and repeat; but scream ΒΑΒΑΛΟΝ.

Go round to the West and repeat; but say ΕΡΩϚ.

Go round to the South and repeat; but bellow ΨΥΧΗ.

Completing the circle widdershins, retire to the centre, and raise thy voice in the Paian, with these words ΙΟ ΠΑΝ with the signs of N.O.X.

Extend the arms in the form of a Tau, and say low but clear: ΠΡΟ ΜΟΥ ΙΥΓΓΕϚ ΟΠΙϚΩ ΤΕΛΕΤΑΡΧΑΙ ΕΠΙ ΔΕΞΙΑ ϚΥΝΟΧΕϚ ΕΠΑΡΙϚΤΕΡΑ ΔΑΙΜΟΝΕϚ ΦΛΕΓΕΙ ΓΑΡ ΠΕΡΙ ΜΟΥ Ο ΑϚΤΗΡ ΤΩΝ ΠΕΝΕ ΚΑΙ ΕΝ ΤΗΙ ϚΤΗΛΗΙ Ο ΑϚΤΗΡ ΤΩΝ ΕΧ ΕϚΤΗΚΕ.

Repeat the Cross Qabalistic, as above, and end as thou didst begin.

COMMENTARY (ΚΕ)

25 is the square of 5, and the Pentragram has the red colour of Geburah.

The chapter is a new and more elaborate version of the Banishing Ritual of the Pentragram.

It would be improper to comment further upon an official ritual of the A.⁂A⁂

NOTE

(14) The secret sense of these words is to be sought in the numeration thereof.

so I can send you THE OATH OF THE ABYSS and THE GREAT BEYOND
but seem to have misplaced it give me a few.

BTW- i think Crowley usually worte the oath as "I will interpet all phenomena as a communication from my Holy Guardian Angel."
I always liked it better as...

"I WILL NOT BE ATTACHED TO ANYTHING."

        

Finding their own level...

Sometimes it does not seem good to befriend the insane.  They will act out in their craziness and leave broken glass behind. 

In the last couple of weeks we have seen betrayal and treachery rear its ugly head.  We have seen triangulation, manipulation, spying, obsession, and paranoia that reminded us of the speed freak nightmares.

We gave a laser to a caveman and he used it on himself.  He invoked loyalty by manipulating the gullible and now he faces the trauma of his own dilemma-self created.  No doubt, he will crash and burn in a new way, but not so dissimilar to the ways he has done over the last ten years.

He read and thought himself knowledgeable.  He got smarter and more effective, but without humility.  His ego grew without the warranted tenets to the contrary.  He put his ear to the phone and manipulated.  He tried to become a master, but wound up a slave to his indulgences.  Now he has cursed himself with the worst kind of megalomania.

He got another friend to discard our friendship.  Oh well, we have and will make many more in the meantime.  We will sit and watch as his inevitable and ensuing demise presents itself.

It is done and we didn't care to lift a finger...

        

ADDICTS AND CHILDREN
(Mondo's Alter Ego speaks out)

(This writing is NOT directed at ANY one addict in particular, but hundreds we have observed)

In the many years I have gone to meetings, I have witnessed the obsessive and compulsive drive that "recovering" addicts express to have normal lives.  Many want to have successful careers, loving relationships, marriages, and children.  Many would like to join the folly of the American Dream and they think that this means "being" a productive member of society.  However, the context of the above may have many inherent flaws.  This seems like the same type of insanity we experience in addiction.  The fact remains that we can have happy and extremely fulfilling lives without spawning children who will most likely turn out carriers of the disease of addiction.

One of the successful tenets of the Narcotics Anonymous recovery program has to do with accepting Addiction as an incurable disease.  Various studies have shown that this may have a great deal of plausibility and that genetics could have a role.  If we strive to live like spiritual people, "doing the next right thing", why would any of us want to bring children into this world, knowing that they may inherit a disease that can make their lives miserable and kill them prematurely?

We have a very swift reply to this: self centeredness and ego centricity-an almost complete lack of regard for the welfare of others.  We think that while we know that some children do turn out "normal" and have happy, productive lives, we have seen many more who don't.   Playing these odds seems very fucked up.

I don't purport that addicts who had children in their active addiction ought to have remorse...well maybe, but I think they ought to explain this to their children and work with their children to live functionally-emotionally and psychologically-and present the facts so that these offspring may choose whether or not to marry someone who also has addiction in their family.  If there's enough esteem of life, they may opt out on having their own progeny and adopt children who can turn out normal and functional.

So far as addicts go, we must deliver a serious chiding here.  How dare you call yourselves spiritual, moral "beings" and practice this type of insanity?  Why would you, in your drive for some altruism and service to others do this and try to tell us you have a good moral conscience.  Sorry fuckers, you don't.  This thinking and behavior reeks of immorality and insanity.

I have had the unfortunate experience to have acted unwittingly as a sperm donor in this type of folly.  I have a son whom I love dearly and whom I have imparted the tools to live a happy productive life, but I am afraid that he has a propensity for this disease.
 
In spite of the knowledge and exposure he has to this malady and the bleak picture of effective recovery from it, he still chooses to drink alcohol and possibly smoke weed.  Don't get me wrong.  He makes a strong effort to live functionally, but if he has this disease, he most likely will not succeed if he uses drugs including alcohol.  This will stand as his decision.  His mother and I have presented the facts over and over again.

I also see addicts who have mental illnesses which seem also to have inheritability pondering whether they will have children or not.  Most of them will and if they have lucidity, they will suffer from this grievous mistake.

I think that all of you ought to consider sterilization, practice effective birth control, and not rule out abortion when the mistakes happen.  Do yourself and the world a favor, don't bring any more diseased monsters into the world.  Practice the principles in all your affairs.  We need to face the facts that the drive to reproduce, while "normal" and part of our biology ought not to supersede common sense here.

        

look in your eyes


I can look in your eyes,

but I always see your lips,

I look in your left eye,

and look at your lips,



Your lips come down on mine,

they kiss me with feeling,

they hold on me and feel closer,

your heart beats next to me,

I look at your lips pulling away.


Your smile seems small and slowed,

those big teeth barely peeking at me,

the ones he couldn't buy you,

the ones you had to have.


You gave me a picture of your futures,

while I fastened my lips on yours softly,

your life had begun to unfold,

while mine expanded,


The places I had gone gave me colors,

the places on and in your body,

you started to give them to me,

and you stared as I got very human,


Those sets of feelings you cannot say,

the emotionality you do not have,

but may have someday,

wasted on these moments you let slip away.


No one walked away.

        

UA

Unnecessary Anonymous

All twelve step programs came originally from Alcoholics Anonymous.  Some programs like NA, came from AA, long, long ago and have fought arduously to maintain complete autonomy and separateness of purpose.  NA, is the only Twelve Step organization that centers its first step:

WE ADMITTED THAT WE WERE POWERLESS OVER OUR ADDICTION, THAT OUR LIVES HAD BECOME UNMANAGABLE.

All the other drug related programs' first step is substance related; it states that they are powerless over the substance and not the condition or the disease.

Thus, we have a lot of useless and unnecessary programs-maybe even AA.  

We have Heroin Anonymous, Marijuana Anonymous, Cocaine Anonymous, Pills and drugs Anonymous, and worst of all Crystal Meth Anonymous.  All of these programs miss the recovery boat.  They all portray that the substance is the problem and that every substance deserves a special program.

Drug addiction is a symptom of a bigger condition-the Disease of Addiction.  Narcotics Anonymous seems like a misnomer because it infers that you have to have drug addiction to Narcotics.  In the old literature of medicine, pharmacology, and law enforcement, pretty much all drugs are narcotics.

The focus on the disease as the culprit and not the drugs, takes the uniqueness away from the peculiar drug.  And it provides some belief tools with which we can deal with.  

Addiction has three components in this model:

Obsession, Compulsion, and Self Centeredness.

Drug use which occurs under the definitions of these constitutes addiction.  Addiction can also occur with food, sex, gambling, working, spending money, religion, and etc.-there are many manifestations.  Some of them so powerful that it seems they have a separate and unique treatment.  The self destructive spirals of any of these or in combination has effects on the degradation of the individual which are specific to that individual.

We think that, as a Twelve Step Program, Narcotics Anonymous has the general solution in that mileau.  We also think that in many cases outside help can be effectively utilized, but usually this is not process oriented "psychotherapy", as it remains largely ineffective for most problems.

We think that all the other programs, for drug addicts, lose their effectiveness because they have no general approach to addiction and that the majority of drug addicts die or degenerate because they need such an approach.  They wind up watered down at best because they don't deal with the disease except at a level of substance and this approach lacks the comprehensiveness needed to recover.  Addicts who only have addiction to one drug or one class of drugs, may not be addicts.  They may just have emotional or psychological problems that other solutions will work better for.

This has become particularly apparent when it comes to supposed mental illnesses.  The evidence shows that a great deal of mental problems come from physical problems.  For instance, diabetics who do not manage their diets can get very depressed and even suicidal.  People with Thyroid disorders can experience a variety of problems that look like mental illnesses.  People who have abuse trauma disorders will self medicate in order to try and cope with their pains of living.  

When these problems find resolve, in many cases these folks do not display addictive behaviors.  Their lives get managable and they don't need help or support.  This can even happen with psychotropic medications, but we also think that the prescribers of these do not, in many cases, know enough about the molecular biology and physiological chemistry of the mechanisms involved to prescribe anything but shotgun attempts to manage these disorders.

We also think that "spirituality" weakens ALL the programs and makes them unappealing to the masses who look for a practical approach to going beyond their problems and living happy, drug free lives.  Many of these "spiritual" individuals take on the look and feel of Kool-Aid drinking cult members.  

We also have seen that many times, NA does not project this and it is very attractive to people seeking help and support to get clean and stay clean and live free of addiction in all its symptoms.  We know that this is possible since it has happened in our recovery and the recovery of many others.  It seems impossible to keep this approach devoid of moralizations that find their basis in some religiosity.  Even atheism can fall victim to this trap.  The spiritual approach presents too many paradoxes to have real value and lasting effects for the majority of addicts and we think this is why they relapse at a much greater incidence than those who stay clean for the rest of their lives without relapse.

In most of these cases, addicts have deep emotional and psychological disorders that require diligent and rigorous effort to change.  Simple changes in attitude, unfortunately, do not effect these changes, even though they do aid them.  Transformation must take place permanently on a deep level and addicts-real addicts, have consistently demonstrated that they cannot do this alone.  Many times they will keep their inability to cope sequestered in their immaturities and try to hide in other distracting symptoms of addiction like supposed love relationships.

We maintain that individuals who do not have true self love for themselves remain incapable of this and that they will always fail to find lasting happiness when they seek it outside themselves in other people, places and things.  

We have seen this in our own lives many times.

        

When I fly in my dreams

No falling happens,

I ride you in the winds

we make flying.

And you miss me, you will miss me,

How can you not,



Oh these mistakes and misgivings,

The waste of time in obsessions

you thought seemed like living,

There will happen so much you will

wind up missing,

While the little pet names

fall away in little children's games.



These flights get planned,

I am far and away in a greater set of plans,

She still loves me,

dreams of me,

touches me with creamy softness,

kisses me with love and sweetness.



You will have nothing of little boys

remembering and longing for me

living in your Rose Garden Lane house,

Havi