can i get anyone's help

i get so fucking hopeless.

i can't think. i don't know what to do anymore. i have no motivation. i have no one to talk to about it. no one who cares enough to help. i've told so many people my ideas, and no one finds them interesting enough.

nothing can ever be easy for me. every effort has to be so frustratingly difficult. every action has to be so fucking impossible. and all anyone can do is tell me what to do as if i'm living my life wrong.

just sitting on my laptop has become... i have movies to watch, music to sort through, emails to send, homeless resources to find... i can't figure out why i can't muster the motivation to do it. all i can think is that doing it alone seems so fucking pointless, why do it? if so many people on the street can tell me 'get a job', and this entire world is this apathetic and fearful... what the fuck am i supposed to be doing? cause i'm definitely not doing what you tell me. i refuse to stay in your boxed little world. is no one allowed to come up with a solution? is no one going to listen to that solution, and find it interesting enough, and have enough compassion to help. i'm fucking sick of asking these questions. i'm sure, if i had the time or inspiration, i could track back through my blog posts and da journals and find where i've said that shit before, and how many times i've said it, but i'd rather just employ someone to do that, or find people that are dedicated enough to good ideas, that they would just do that for their own entertainment, from their own inspiration and curiosity, but those people don't fucking exist anymore!

does anyone have any idea how many people i've told to read my blog since i've been traveling? out of those, how many said they would? out of those, how many actually have? and out of those, how many have responded and kept in touch? yeah, we're burnin' air at this point. and no one thinks that's sad. no one can send me a message saying, 'dude, i'm sorry you're so invisible and ignored, you really should be understood, i've read a lot of your stuff, big fan'.

will that ever fucking happen?

or will i just get the pseudo wannabe psychobabble analyst moron clones who can only say shit like 'he just wants attention', or 'he just wants to be surrounded by ass kissers', and moronic shit like that. trying to diagnose me.

you fuckers know how stupid you look? wanna take a glimpse? here, look in this mirror right quick...

those people who 'just want attention', and 'want to be surrounded by ass kissers'...

that's the plastic world i see around me. and you, a replica of a clone of a plastic mannequin with the iq of a french fry, you're trying to compare me to them, by telling me i'm... exactly the definition you should put on them, but you're telling me in a way that makes the concept seem like a new thing, like freud hasn't pondered it yet.

can you see that? you realize you said that to an evolutionist, who's so far ahead of his time, he doesn't even have a formed religion of his own yet? and look at it this way, if we're not going to be friends and know eachother for the next twenty years... then what was the point of our little interaction and your diagnosis of me and my world? do you think your input is going to affect me, and i'm just going to run back home to mommy and say 'the boys picked on me, so i've permanently lost all hope, and i'll just disappear into an imaginary hole until i figure out a way to slit my wrists and actually end this delusion'. do you really think you can make any sort of impression on me whatsoever? apparently you haven't read my 'impress me' blog post. yup, that one's been online for a few years now. think it's had any readers? i still see no gauges moving on this thing, you sure it's working, god?

cause i'm about to set the controls for the heart of the sun, buddy.

so i've figured out, i must have intellectophobia locational detection disorder, also known as 'i can't find smart people'. it has factors of 'i'm invisible to smart people' as well, which is due to the fact that most smart people are still living in a world where money dictates how well people are heard. just because you haven't heard my voice doesn't mean i don't have one, it means you aren't listening. fuckin', i wrote that so far back, i think aristotle fuckin' said it. but it's got my copyright seal of approval on it.

my head is so clusterfucked with blood clot thoughts, years overdue, i'm starting to wonder if that's unhealthy. i mean i know it is, but i have no psychiatrist to ask, and doctor bupp hasn't answered my emails.

i'm so lost. so confused.

everytime i get a little glimpse of where i was headed, some asshole comes along and says 'no, you gotta dress this way', and then a couple morbidly hot women distract the fuck out of me and the compass in my head, and...

i just can't fuckin' think. i have no one to talk to. no one who is capable of sympathizing. i feel like i'm standing alone in a foggy field back in the early eighteen hundreds wondering where the fuck humanity went. and i could bet god fifty grand that no one will ever respond to this, but i know he's not up there, cause he hasn't returned the first eighty billion calls. but if you tell the people whose phones are 'working' that they're delusional and insane, they get really angry at you, and start asserting their authority over you, and their dominance gets a hard on, and your day is pretty much fucked. how are they still allowed to do that and get away with it?

because i haven't created my church yet.

that's the only answer i've ever been able to see. these people lack guidance.

since i was a child, wondering 'who's in charge of this horse shit?', and people would sometimes point in random aimless directions along with their gibberish, but... i don't fuckin' see him. this argument can't be had yet. because the little weasel in charge is hiding from logic, buried under a rock of security guard paranoia.

but i've pictured it for so many years. the man who comes along claiming that logic is his god, his direction is fearlessly forward, and declaring money a psychotic state of mind... seems to me like that guy would have a few friends. perhaps a couple life long friends that have always been there.

my friends were lazy, worthless shits. none of them made it out of that toilet of a town. most of them got flushed.

i hate so much.
i hate people.
i wish i could meet people who felt like me, so we could figure out a way to get away from people we hate. i mean, i've done most of the thinking most my life, but the translation into their legal terms for them to understand, i.e. the retardation and complication of something simple for idiots to comprehend through small filters...

yeah, i know i'm rambling senselessly about nonsense at this point. i'm trying to figure out in my own head, since i don't belong in anyone else's thoughts... what the fuck i want to do today. i know i need to answer a voice mail from sarah who's trying to help me, but i can't even find the motivation for that. my brain can't think and i can't find the time to sit and listen to the voice mail and call her back. if i walk outside, it's for a smoke break, but then it's too windy and cold, and there's too many assholes everywhere, and i encounter some of them, and what was intended to be a sitting break to relax long enough to hear a voice mail, turns into a three mile long confused and angry walk trying to figure out where the fuck i can go to either get away from these people, or get around enough of them that they might hand me money thinking i'm actually worth a shit, and then i get torn between those two options the more sober i get, and can't decide which way or the other, and by that point i'm too hungry to think...

instead, if the things you turn into ash, and the things you turn into shit, didn't cost you anything... and whatever you sleep on and in didn't cost such a retardedly high fucking price... every person who has a job, their paychecks barely cover rent, so they're left starving and sober with no stress relief, no entertainment for sanity, no relaxation, either mentally or physically, and expected to be robotic under those conditions because the boss wants it, and some people completely slave themselves to it, and still never get anything better than cheap food at the end of a week, because so much of their time was wasted simply on a place to sleep. and no one understands that i've never understood that concept. do you not understand that there's something seriously wrong with that? can you not conceive that the eyes of evolution might see that as absurd?

how's this for a theory. see if you can fit this into your tiny little box brain.

people who don't want to work, for whatever the reason, are still able to live and function normally, without having to worry about death constantly.

i know, it's impossible, but hang on, i'm not done yet...

see, this is the way i picture it. first of all, the knowledge of house building is passed down from every parent to every child, along with a built house to live in. now, i know it's a hard concept to... yes, i get it, it's already not fitting in there, just hang on, relax, i'll get a shoe horn, just breathe...

parents in this plastic world, they hold the reigns of their children until eighteen, and then boot them out the door, sometimes harshly, cruelly. some parents aren't even functional enough to do that, keep that in mind. but most the functional ones are operating under this conditioning, and they all feel like they have to do the same thing out of fear of doing anything different and fucking up some sort of equilibrium that can't fluctuate for whatever paranoid reason... okay, i'm saying too much, i know, i get it. the words just pour out of my mouth, i can't stop them, i'm sorry.

but they all do the same thing. you raise your children... what's the word... they call them children of privilege, and all sorts of shit like that, but no, there's an actual true way to look at it, and i can't remember the word.

sheltered. that's almost it. they raise their children in these sheltered environments. but they immediately break those rules, because both parents have to have jobs, the kid has to go to school and be raised half of their days by teachers, in rooms full of other kids... yeah, that's wrong right there. did you not read the nature handbook that god etched into that tree? oh, your boss cut the tree down, well good going, captain!

here's how it should have gone. i know it's hard to comprehend, but i'm just gonna try to say it as simply as possible. which is not easy for me.

two people meet. they fall in love. years into a comfortable relationship, they decide to have a child or two. not twenty. they live in a house... now, see, i can feel your mind already closing in and getting small, come on.

parents and children do not always have to live together. i wish chef from south park could lay some of this groundwork for me, but he's a scientologist. yeah, i could have told you that one, dude.

i picture it this way. come on, keep up. there's a house. it's got a couple living in it. when they start having kids, they start building a new house next to their house. small, you don't need a whole shitload of nothing to yourself.

they build one little house for each child. you teach the child every step of the way, not just doing for them, but having them help, so they can learn.

so, when this couple meets, they already have a house to live in. they have a child, so they start building a new little house close to theirs. they don't have to worry about jobs and bosses, so they can spend whatever time they want on that house. not just sundays and the occasional holiday. they can actually dedicate themselves to developing it during the child's youth, instead of 'i have to work, buddy, sorry'.

now, whenever that child is comfortable leaving the house, he is free to explore the world, but can always come back to that house and live there. that's his house, always close to dad incase he needs anything. their family houses are surrounded by family farmland, which is how they feed themselves, also taught throughout childhood. whatever talents the child wants to pursue, they are free to pursue wherever they want in the world, for as long as they want, but they always have their house to come home to whenever they want.

no, this does not mean the world will be flooded with houses. besides, you don't think the world is already flooded with enough houses that this could be a reality tomorrow? let me dip some chips into that head of yours.

now, okay. now, with the whole 'housing' issue out of the way, and also the 'eating' issue for the most part, let's focus on the cycle of parenting through generations. cause if you start instilling habits like these, within a few generations you'll have a completely self sufficient species... but okay, i understand that we can't get to that just yet.

so, we have a piece of land with a family on it. it's got a few little houses, so they don't have to live together to the point of arguing, but they can all share in the farming of their foods and smokable things. which should all be considered in the food group, really. you've categorized things in such a fucked up way, to untangle them takes a shitload of thought, i'd imagine it would even confuse the fuck out of medusa, her snakes would explode. this is literally what a mental clusterfuck you've gotten the human species into, and you will never understand this, you'll just die off without realizing what the fuck you did wrong, so history still has a chance of repeating itself again.

but i believe that before you and your bible wallet combo kit came along, people knew how to live collectively. as a small community, not an overpopulated, selfish... goddamnit, i cannot focus. i cannot keep a sentence or idea going in one direction, what the fuck happened to my mind? and listening to the idiot next to me, seriously. i miss my dual monitor computer with windows xp and skinned exclusively by wb skinner. what a healthy thinking environment. at least i could decide what movie to watch then.

but okay. back to the point. food and smoke is taken care of through a family, and shared in a small community. no need for a fuckin' starbucks, if you want a hot chocolate, there's plenty in the community kitchen that we're all so used to by now that we just call it the kitchen... see the elevator ride i have to go through just to think on your level? anyway. i know native americans were doing shit like this before you came over here and set up your fucking syndicated starfucks franchise clones... and i picture this shit functioning much better than you and your security guards. it sickens me how paranoid you are. and that your paranoia is regulation strength. this is fucked.

anyway, trying to stay focused. tobacco and weed are just crops, just like food and house fillings and burrito coverings. and clothing, if necessary. see, clothing should only be necessary if it's cold. if it's warm outside, mister tree doesn't have a badge, so i say we're good, go pick me some naked tomatoes, hunny. boy, what a concept, i know, but hang on, it's about to get cool for people with short attention spans finally. see, when it's finally made into a movie, we can just montage all this shit, and add a bunch of special effects to make it look like you're actually having this revelation... don't worry, they call that post production, the interview is always the boring part, and yes, you look awkward in your tie, moving on.

now. okay. food, smoke, wood. throw a few cows in there, a couple chickens, have mark fuckyerbook hanging from your tree, and you're good to go. kids are fed, clothed, medicated properly by nature, no prescription required, no one to tell you 'use only as prescribed by doctor', cause weed's not that dangerous, duh. okay, see? simple? yes?

okay, now, once your children and your necessities are taken care of for generations, what else do you need?

okay, sure, say you have a talented kid you want to send to los angeles to get famous and make a movie. fair enough, good question. thanks to the industrial revolution, or what's left of it at this point, it is still possible to take a plane to cancer city and put on a little tap and dance show for the city lights people. when you're done, you can come back to your home and not have to worry about a homeless drug addict sleeping on your couch.

say the kid brings back a bunch of money, or whatever is actually valuable at that point in our evolution. say he brings home three more cows, another chicken, and a bunch of pot seeds.

and here's one more thing. imagine that when you send your kid to los angeles to get famous and bring back the next three years of worry free life... try to imagine this... when he gets there... the asshole in the suit and tie isn't there. that's right, the douchebag that has to dictate every step against your will... yeah, that guys just no longer around. i don't know, maybe the factory stopped cranking out his model number, but he's just gone. when you get there, there are alot of other talented artists that will collectively guide you on your process of producing and releasing your art, whatever format it may come in, because there's no boss to fuck everything up. you don't have to drive for miles to get to each different place to get this accomplished, no, you can do it all right in one small little area where all these people congregate, and all the tools are at their disposal right there...

this becomes a really large planet when you start seeing it that way, doesn't it?

each part of this earth has its own unique function, so you only have to go there once to accomplish something, and then relax at home and be free to raise your children... wouldn't it be alot cooler when people get famous at that point? you'd never know what you're getting, that would be exciting. not just opening another plastic box with another plastic barbie doll in it, this would be... well... i'm still getting ahead of myself.

anyway. so that's daily life. you wake up, make food, smoke something, send an email or two, download the wallpaper of the day, then you go out and do some farming, your wife drives to the store and gets the necessary things, you teach your kid how to ride the tractor, so now while you're trimming the weed, your kid can be out driving through the crops of corn or whatever the fuck. i never cared much for corn. or the band.

so, now what other needs are there. oh, yeah, social shit and dating and sex and mingling and singling and shit like that. first of all, as far as this goes, get the idea of alcohol the fuck out of your head, and this will be alot easier to understand. that's step one. we'll take a minute so you can actually do what i'm telling you. go ahead, get the images of beer bottles and wine and all that horse shit, get a broom, and sweep it all the fuck out your ear, and we'll move on when i see the last flake fall. i'm waiting. get the fuckin' broom.

you missed a spot.

don't think i don't see your secret stash of bottles in the cellar. you think i'm joking.

okay, now, socializing and sex. oh, yeah, and forget about monogamy, too. you're gonna need to relax on that a lot.

in the community that consists of... say... thirty families. they've all been raised together for generations, they trust eachother, and they've intermingled with other communities around the world every five or so years, so they're good on the whole 'stranger danger' issue you seem to love to cry about so much. getting the picture here? okay, so... this community has maybe three hundred people in it, give or take. they're capable of anything and everything. if suzie wants to record an album, go to phil's house. if jimmy wants to make a movie, he can do it himself, or go to bob's house for a little help. or he can fly in speed from sweden, and lay down some really bad ass tracks. hell, if he wanted, he could sell those just as bonus tracks, or alternate versions of the album... who said guns n' roses was the only band that could make an alternate lyrical version of 'don't cry'? who said pink floyd was the only band that could make a double album? i'll tell you who. record execs. suits and ties. they hold no guitars, they hold pens and credit cards, and that's all they're good for, but when you take that out of the picture, they become useless, worthless, of no value. you see them for what they truly are. a thorn in what should otherwise be a smooth rose stem. if they can genetically modify oranges, and if i'm smoking hydroponic weed, then you can figure out how to grow roses without thorns, thus proving poison wrong, which would reverse the eighties from ever having happened, porn stars never took over the banks and never flooded this neuron with cocaine, and hey, we're back to normal. right?

yeah, fuck no. i know your responses by now, i'm not as stupid as you always think.

but this concept sits very comfortably in my mind. it screams the word 'nature' to me. i guess to me it would sound like whispers, to you it might sound like actual screams, but i use that word poetically, which you have no idea what i'm talking about at this point, which is exactly my fucking point. your perception is fucked, so how you could ever understand me is beyond me. does that make any sense at all to you?

yeah, okay, how about this. if a child ends up really hating their parents, they are free to move and build their own house wherever they want, whenever they want. if the child decides this when they're seventeen, they might actually come back home before the parent dies. that's a good thing. if the child decides this when they're thirty, they have a chance of not making it home before the parent dies, but that's okay, too. it shouldn't matter when the child decides to move away, as long as it's comfortable between the parent and the child. no judge required.

'hey, mom, i'm sixteen, i'm tired of your shit, you suffocate me too much, so i'm gonna move to germany for a few years, get ahold of myself, and i might see you again before you're gone'.

or...

'hey, mom, i'm twenty five, you raised me well, i'm going to go off and use my talents, and i'll send video postcards and recordings of our concerts, and i'll see you in a few years'.

or...

'hey, dad, i'm gonna go sell my pussy for six cows, i'll be back on twosday'.

to me, that seems so much better than stuffy houses in clustered suburban neighborhoods not letting their daughters see the light of day until the clock says midnight for exactly eighteen years, and then booting them out the door with demands of bringing back paychecks to help with the mortgage... yeah.

i'll be right back, i'm gonna go puke, smoke, shit, and shoot someone. mind watching my computer?

okay, that required two cigarettes, but we're good to go.

you're literally that retarded. in the eyes of evolution, you are neanderthal, you are still pond scum.

you can't keep burning what you fear. simple as that. you can't keep poking your fingers in my chest through the badge of a security guard, and using words like 'policy'.

to me, 'policy' is just another word for 'unnatural'. if it has to be dictated by a stupid man, then it's not of natural law, therefore makes no sense, thus is not of logic, and logic is my god, so you're full of shit, get the fuck away.

you can't tell them that. not until you sign a bunch of papers. can you fathom how many papers i'm going to have to sign?

to start my own religion?
to start my own community?
just to purchase the land?
to declare sovereignty?
i'm sure there will even be papers to sign after that point.

you're aware of the fact that... there shouldn't be... right?

after you have started your own religion, your own church, your own community, on your own land, and declared sovereignty to completely tie off... you get that, right? there's supposed to be no more paperwork after that.

am i the only one that sees this?

i know no one else has thought up the whole 'create your own religion' thing yet, cause timothy leary is dead, and we only have scientology and mormonism to count so far. and boy did they go in the wrong directions.

if someone gets the idea into their head, to create their own religion, for whatever purpose or to break away from prior religious foundations, for whatever reason, if someone decides 'i'm starting my own religion'... why is it that none of those idiots could point forward?

joseph smith, the guy who created mormonism.
l. ron hubbard, the goatroach that created scientology.
anton szandor lavey, the dude who created laveyan satanism.
aleister crowley, hp lovecraft, any of these fucks...

you're telling me that out of all those brains, no one could see what was next?

if their brains were freight trains, i picture their headlights gunked up with mud, and pointing off into the darkness.

we have michio kaku, he's still alive. richard dawkins, alex jones, they're still alive.

why, god, why was it my brain and only my brain that had to see this road, and why is no one else on it, why did you put me here two hundred years before anyone else would show up, why, god, why! why did you put this image in my mind, and not syndicate it before i got here! why, god, why! why can't you even answer me!

i mean it's obvious i'm here for a reason, but the fact that you can't even confirm that, leaves me with what?

for evidence, for an answer, for proof, for a direction or a lack of hope, anything! why!

synchronicity, my ass, the islands of monkeys are all dead. you put me here at the wrong fucking time!

at a time when you're not even there. the bible points upward. but the voice lies within.

left is right, right is wrong, up is down, and backward is the norm. black is truly white. i see no grey.

my therapist tried telling me once to not see things so black and white.
i told her, it's hard to see colour in a black and white world.

especially when you are the colour.

imagine how the first colour television felt.

among that sea of black and white neanderthals. all staring at him, like an abomination.

you'll never understand me. i see out through my eyes. you never will.

is it all because you never walked down grant road in tucson arizona?
is it because i never fell for your seductive mind games?

for now, all we know is that we oppose. visions clashing. the future of this world, prisoner in my mind. suffocated by the dust of the past.

for years now, my third eye has been seeing my daughter running infront of me on the porch, to bring something to the house for dinner... sun setting over the trees... just trees around us... surrounded by trees... no cops. no security guards. no social security office surrounded by homeless people. no big noisy downtown with a cnn building glowing. just a couple cows. maybe one of them could moo on queue. little swish of the tail.

a dog that doesn't bark much. a couple cats sitting on the porch, keeping watch.

we have technology now. we understand farming better. is it not easy enough to cut out all the industrial concrete cancer? we no longer need disposable coffee cups every morning, it's safe to use a mug, no one's gotten sick from germs in the last fifty years, unless the germs were put there by some government employed cia scientist, so what do you say we just relax. all the laws that have been written because some moron shit his pants in a grocery store eighty years ago, if we could let those go, and stop being suffocated by them, restricted at every turn by the past eighty years of 'don't do this because some moron did it once and we've been scared shitless ever since'... can we let that shit go yet?

we don't need all this concrete. we don't need seven billion people here. we don't need radio stations syndicated in every major city. new york doesn't always need to know what los angeles is doing. it was fun for a while, and we really enjoyed the video chat, but i'd like to be left alone now, and i think the earth would, too.

sorry, but i think i can hear her voice better than you, so unless you want to debate me on that too, shut the fuck up and leave me alone.

it's because of you that i had to get famous before achieving this. i wish i could have been born into the world where i could have had less trouble finding a soulmate, having children, and not having my children taken from me, and having my life destroyed by senseless chaos and irresponsibility of people claiming responsibility, just so i'd have to come to fame central and do the same fuckin' thing janis joplin did in the sixties, to find out that a: it hasn't gotten any easier yet, and b: people are even more greedy and apathetic now... all that just to get my kids back out of your hands, when you wouldn't just listen to me in the first place, i had to put millions of dollars behind my voice to boost it up loud enough for you to hear, must mean you were never intending to listen, and if that's the case, you shouldn't be in charge of anything, because in the community i just described, you would be the crappiest parent in the village. so... take that however you want it, i gotta get to dinner.

at least i got that out of my head so it won't cause a brain tumor now. i swear half of these blog posts lately are just three year old blood clots or some shit. maybe once i get enough of these out, i'll be able to think again.