friday

i know it's going to be any day now when i get that first big phone call, or whatever form it comes in, when i can finally get someone's attention, and get to the right ears, but i really cannot figure out, why can i never get anyone to respond to me or contact me. i'm sick of this shit, i'm sick of these lazy fucking people that say they're going to call you for whatever reason, and never do. you fucks destroy dreams and you know it. you're just getting a tiny chew out of me, like fish food, and then spitting me back out, and i'm sick of encountering so many of you, and wasting my time when i could be talking to actual relevant people and getting something accomplished. you stand in the way of all creativity. you're like disconnected neurons firing in the wrong directions, and breaking vital connections in the consciousness, which i can see with my third eye. go ahead and debate that, i can't wait to make you look like a moron, too. whenever there is a connection to be made, a certain set of words to hit a certain set of ears to accomplish this, whenever there is an idea to be born...

you fuckers standing in my way make everything so impossible, you make everything take longer than it should, and you make every effort a disastrous television commercial like the ones where they lady in the kitchen can't figure out how to use a knife the right way. shit like that used to piss my mother and i off. you do not realize what you're destroying, and how much time and effort you're wasting. you really need to get your fat, lazy ass the fuck out of my way, and let me accomplish a dream. you are the waste. you are the trash. you think yourselves so important, so vital to the human race, the be all end all to human development. you couldn't be more wrong, and the fact that you refuse to realize that only shows the exact size of your ego over the soul. like a shadow pulling a cart that's dragging the dead horses behind it, which you beat and throw to the bushes daily.

that's what your beliefs look like.

if your belief structure could be painted by a psychedelic artist, i'm sure it would look like a prison.

concrete, flat, grey...

bright, hot, stagnant...

i've been there. i've seen it. you're not even wondering where i've been since then. i've seen aeons of evolution since leaving that building, and you think yourself ahead of me. god, can you give me more powerful words, more convincing words, to prove to these people how stupid they look, so they could change their minds without being forced. does it take the criminal seeing their wrongs to make them right, or does that even work.

is it a waste of time.

if only their god could answer this question, we'd know what to do with them. but he's hiding. he can't give away the secret.

what a sad excuse. i even thought so when i was a kid. staring up at the night sky, eight years old, trying to see a god that might stop my grandmother from screaming at my mother.

no one knew. know one even knows that story. everyone who did, either didn't care, or is dead.

my past really deleted itself, didn't it. i guess that's a good thing, it was trash anyway. but when is the new life going to start. it's waiting too long, and this concrete is still revolving around me.

if you wake up every day on the same concrete... is it the same day? could i ask bill murray? could his fictional character answer a theoretical, hypothetical question anyway. do other people have their eyes to the same future, or do i doubt it for a reason.

you'll never understand how much you destroy. clearly. you are incapable of comprehending even the slightest inkling of change in your own perspective. you're perfect, and there is none better.

in the eyes of evolution, we're all waiting for the door to hit you in your ass on your way gone. we're staring at the history books, waiting to see your image smoke itself into the page. we know you don't give half a fuck.

i wish...
i wish...
i wish...

battling your brain is like smashing a brick wall up against a steel... wall.

it's like throwing bananas through a bulletproof window.

but i cannot understand why i keep encountering these waste of time people, that look at me like a fish on their hook, dangling for their attention, trying to show my shiniest side to appeal to their dull eye, for what reason...

and then they just throw me back to the concrete. no interest. my fortune cookie eyes don't appeal to their future.

or what material things they might accumulate.

god, you're...

primitive?
neanderthalic? is that a word? google says it's not.
unevolved?

i get nothing but automated emails, and each living creature i meet on the street that says they'll call me or help me...

maybe i need to repeat myself, since you clearly didn't catch that. that's how i phrase my sentences, i put the proof before the point, so you don't need a fact proven to you repeatedly, i'm making less work for your brain, but you don't understand that, so your brain just shuts down and won't think past it.

i get nothing but automated emails.

which means all those phone numbers and email addresses and links i've handed out...? zero responses. zero looks. zero sign of life. zero fishtooth snags. zero hooks. one hundred percent apathy.

and you excuse that by thinking it's okay.

i'm tired of waiting. you've wasted too much of my time anyway, now i'm walking on concrete day after day with no eye to the next day, no clue what to do each moment, each street, each block, each building.

you fucks that just pick up the fish, give him the evil eye, and throw him back on the concrete, you don't realize, you can't realize, you waste more time and take up more space then could be shown to you on a calculator.

but thankfully, i'm sure someone, someday, will convince you that you're wrong.

and then we can all move on, and enjoy something.

we're living organisms sharing the skin of one big living organism.

what more do i need to repeat to you? we've already been over this, it's your responsibility to catch up. i'm not going to spend the rest of my life in third grade, that's the teacher's job. i'm just the bullet someone fired toward the future. don't try stopping me, you'll get hurt. forgive me for stating the obvious, but i find that necessary, even crucial lately.

that reminds me of my old school idea... citizens offering crucial knowledge... c.o.c.k. i loved that.

people really like to think they own you, don't they? can you see the reflection in their eyes, that they are unaware of how wrong they are? can you see a particular emptiness in their eyes, a certain cluelessness about them, can you sense that the vital concept of equality is not inhabiting their perspective. does it matter.

the more i try to jump to the future, the more i find i'm being held back by that third grade class. right when i'm about ready to say 'okay, let's leap to the future', someone sounding like my grandmother says 'wait, i don't understand' something, and i need to explain it again. that's not my job, you fuckers sit here festering in your third grade class listening to the ghost of your teacher, i've got faster things to rush past my eye. we don't have to keep waiting and hiding in the comfort of this classroom, tomorrow was waiting for us yesterday, how long do you think you can hold the clock's hands back before it gets angry at you. you resist the truth, you resist the future, and blame us and condemn us for resisting you and your fears. you can't even see how illogical that is. and we're wasting our time trying to bring you up to speed, when every night, your fears and blankets comfort you back down to your slow pace, so the next morning is just a repeat of the progress made yesterday, and you're not understanding how you're holding us all back. i don't know why we need you to come out of the classroom with us, i don't know why we can't just leave the room and head fearlessly forward, not worrying about how scared you are back in that room, maybe it's the parent in us that wants to see their offspring succeed, but i'm really weighing on it not mattering, because i'd really like to get these legs running, and not have to worry about who i'm leaving behind.

that being said, i'm pursuing the future for me. not the rest of you. you can think me selfish, but i have plenty of reason to hate you, after all the times you've ignored me alone, look in my arsenal, you might recognize the ammunition, it has your name all over it. i'm just using it to prove a point to a wall for my own edification. why would you be concerned with that, you've got dollars in your wallet to worry about, nothing to see here, move along.

my feet are free. no hands on my feet any longer. so why i'm still waiting around for you and your approval that i fly toward the future without you, is a mystery to me. i'm well aware of the fact that i do not need you. i do not need your dollars, i do not need your health insurance, your ambulances, your cop cars, your jobs and bosses, i do not need any of that shit, because where we're going, we don't need the dust of past memories weighing us down. to paraphrase doc brown. so why am i waiting for your approval. i could be off breaking my own theories, proving that this concrete isn't really here, and neither are you, and the future is right in front of me next to that tree, but i have to sit here. why. did you tell me to? did i not tell you you're wrong? what time is being wasted and for what reason. why can you not get the fuck out of my way and let me reach the big ears so i can do what needs to be done. why are there so many of you clones clogging the tube. stop wasting my time please. if you're going to help, fucking help already. if you're going to chew me up and spit me out like everyone else, you don't need a taste of me, you can get any other clone on this planet, why are you so minimally curious about me, but just enough to waste my time. why does everyone need this minimal taste of me, why can't you just look the other way, look at someone else, leave me alone. i'm trying to do something big here, that will benefit everyone, especially those openminded and looking to the future like it still means something, simply because now sucks thanks to you.

did i phrase that right? can you understand that? do you need me to repeat it? rephrase it? what?

the world is about to change for the better, and instead, you're wasting time getting my phone number on the street, just so you can not call me, and get my hopes up, and ruin my fucking day, and waste another day.

i only have so many moments in each day. not like you. i only get one priority a day. usually, it's relaxing and working on my sanity. which, when i see you people saying you're doing the same thing, i see you playing videogames. you tell me it's to help you relax. maybe we have the wrong definition of relax.

when i'm sorting through mp3s, reading wikipedia, and scraping a bowl of resin, that's meditation for me. when my mind is activated, and i'm thinking, that's relaxing to me. when i play a videogame and feel stupid, and dumber, and like my brain is numb, that's very stressful for me, and makes my body shake like i'm hungry.

so clearly we have different ideas of relaxation. for you to relax, you need to deactivate your mind with a stupid videogame. for me to relax, i need... pretty much the opposite. i like intellectual stimulation. something else i find relaxing, putting on terence mckenna videos on youtube on my computer, leaving them playing in the background, while my massive music collection also plays on my computer, while i'm also watching limitless on my television... that's relaxing for me, that's soothing, comforting, like being enveloped in a soft cloudy womb pillow.

i've had people tell me that they can't listen to my music and watch my movies at the same time, because it's too much, it's too distracting... what, your mind can't focus on three things at once?

you know those three dee stereogram pictures where you had to relax your eyes and unfocus past the picture to see the three dee image? that's kind of what my mind does, or needs to do.

i guess you forget that i'm working with three eyes, not just two. so when i'm hyperconscious and overstimulated from focusing too much on too many small things crying out for my attention like a wackamole game short circuiting... that's when i need to unfocus my three eyes, and fill each of them with a bigger stream of ideas. that comforts me, and soothes me, and calms me down. weed helps, too. i can skip hours just by unfocusing my three eyes.

bombarding my eyes with bullshit, and tiny ideas, and television shows, and advertisements, and commercials, and pop songs... that numbs my eye and makes it harder to think, which i can see is clearly the popular purpose, like a bad drug. but when i fill my ears with metal, put on terence mckenna or robert anton wilson, when i have more than one conscious thing to focus on, my mind actually takes in alot more.

they used to get pissed at me in school, because the teacher would ask me a question, and i'd have to pop my head up out of a dream to answer it, and the other students would get pissed at me, not realizing that the answer was written on the board behind the teacher, and they would ask, 'how is he learning that, he was sleeping', and my mother tried telling them that i'm very observant, and that i am always learning, but they couldn't understand that, their small, feeble minds were incapable of fitting that concept into their heads, meanwhile i'm expected to fit perfectly into their mold like every factory model human before me, and they can't even see that i'm nowhere near their mold, i'm floating out in the universe swallowing galaxies for the knowledge and experience.

you guys are playing videogames. how boring. can't you get off your couch and stop telling me to live your dumb, tiny little life? maybe what's comforting to you isn't comforting to me. can you conceive that?

i don't know yet how to explain that to a doctor or psychiatrist, to have them understand enough to spit back some worthwhile response either defining or diagnosing, or at least recognizing my difference, but when i figure out how to word that... well... in your world, it would take thirty more years just to track down a good enough doctor and show it to him. your concrete's watch battery is dead, and i can prove it. why would you care.

i observe. i learn. i take in more than you. therefore, filling my brain with your mindnumbing horseshit is not good for me, i can't do what you do, i can't numb my brain with videogames and bad drugs and religion and superstition and tradition and fear and stagnant comfort due to material objects soaked in your stench. my home is not your home, your home is not my home. shut up, get out of my way, and give me my own home. that really involves you shutting your fucking mouth, i have to emphasize and stress that you must leave me alone once i get away from you, i do not want your credit cards, your unsolicited mail, your commercials, your facebook ads telling me to listen to your taste in music, and the plastic products your ass produces, you're going to have to keep those the fuck away from me. are you going to understand that when the time comes? i doubt it, i know your mind cannot stretch there. it will never reach that concept, so you'll keep showing up at my door with lawyers and ad execs and whatever else you want to sell me, because all those dollars you do get don't matter compared to the ones you have to work for.

i'm leading your concept back to its own primitive cranial cave, for burial. and you'll never be aware of that.

that's like dragging the dragon back into the cave without worrying about him waking up.

maybe only i get that joke, but who cares. it's a 'really inside joke', as my wife would say.

stop flooding my mind with your stream of thoughts, and demanding that i participate in your spiraling hatred product orgy. i see those souls hanging off the bloody dollar bills on your hooks reaching into the sky, and i can see the pyramid you're fishing from. only the most fearful feet will reach the top. trust me, i know, i have skin issues with moisture.

i see your eyes. i'm just never ever going to be noticed by you. day after day, you look away.

god, i wish i could tell you.

your television was never soothing to me.
i could burn your videogames and never blink. for the reason you'd never know.

i'm tired of people asking me if i'm a gamer, or if i like popular music, i'm tired of having to explain to people, no, i don't play your games, i don't listen to your music, i don't do your drugs, i don't watch your television shows, i don't spend your dollars, i don't have your credit cards, i don't want your bosses...

can you really not understand...
how loud do i need to shout this...
how many times do i have to repeat this...

i want something more.

your world of plastic products does not satiate me, nor does it even entertain me... can you understand yet. it's like trying to explain the theory of strings to a toddler using the cereal in their bowl. boogers hanging, milk dripping, nipples bleeding.

i am not comforted my your numbing superstitions buried in tradition. you can't have your feet in the past and your eyes in the future, it doesn't work that way. you have to choose one or the other.

knowledge was never evil. you, the speaker of that horrid line... you are evil. i guess you can't expect the devil to apologize... to acknowledge his mistakes... which confuses me, because the mind does expand, does it not? things do evolve, so why don't you? are you that evil that you can't evolve? if that's the case, then i have better hopes for the future, it will be less possible for you to be around there. that's comforting to me.

i still refuse to believe that making money in order to consume products is our sole purpose on this planet.

you are not the be all end all to human development. i'm proud to tell you that. even though, i know you're not listening. i'm confident someone will hear that someday, and appreciate it for what it's worth.

when you tell someone they're wrong...

if their response is 'oh, okay, what's the right way to do it'... they're a slave.
if their response is 'no, i'm not wrong'... they're an idiot.
if their response is 'thank you'... that's a person you can trust.

not that trust is going to be necessary much longer either.

i don't think we fully realize what all we're going to have to let go of, in order to step forward.

if your life is completely rooted in the past, you have to let go of the past. you have to let go of your entire life.

it's less painful to start making choices in a forward direction. you don't have to shed all your layers of skin at once. that's kinda the stupid way to do it. and you tell me i watch too many movies.

in my apartment, i rarely got lonely. being around people twenty four seven, and being ignored by every single one of them, sometimes makes me feel lonely, but most the time it makes me feel hateful. the times that it makes me feel lonely, i just have to remind myself how much i hate people because of this feeling, and it goes away.

if you want to understand me better, you'll have to look at that under a psychologists' microscope.

i hope to not have to repeat this. i hope something happens soon. i hope someone notices me and actually helps me.

friday, october sixteenth, twenty fifteen, four pm. my mother never got to see her fifty sixth birthday.

that was always very special to us.
my birthday was september twenty six.
her birthday was october eight.

this is a very empty day now, without her eyes. her seal of approval was necessary. i miss you, mama.

by the way, just a little piece of data for you to chew on. i get about fifty automated messages a day. do you think that's a little ridiculous when i get zero human responses each day. i've sent out so many emails that have never been replied to, i have handed out my email address and web links to so many people, given my phone number, only to have this massive total of people tell me that i'm of no interest to them, which i already knew, that's why i was trying to get to the bigger brains on this planet. people who are used to plastic products are not going to find me very interesting, i'm already aware of that. how the fuck do i get past it. how do i get around you people. there are so many of you, does there really have to be that many of you, you're really clogging this fucking world. the flow of blood must be unrestricted.

squirrel.

i miss my mama.

please, stop wasting my days, and let me get to the big brains already. i wish i could beg your god, but i'm only proving his nonexistence. unless you have some excuse for why he only ignores me. he only answers the prayers that are paid for with a gold card, is that it? those fuckers seem to get all their prayers answered.

luck is based in superstition and tradition, just like you, so i'm hoping, really really hoping, that luck itself is about to turn. you'll see this a whole new way, or you won't see it at all. either way, it's not my worry.

look up 'denial' in the dictionary. you put it there.

have a nice day.