Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Sexual Revenge.
(5)
Back from the fridge with beer #10 at 2130. Sip.
Time to speculate about modern strange and bizarre cultural events. Yep, I'm referring to the high incidence of 'rape in the American Military Services.' I have a 'theory about that.' My 'theory' is that rape is actually 'sexual rage gone apeshit.'
I have never experienced 'sexual rage.' Never. Ever. The two words have no connection at all in my consciousness. And Sexual Rage seems to be a more or less modern phenomenon. Hmm!
Here is The Theory:
----------
Only males, 'Rape.' (Imagine a dominant woman forcing a limp penis into her vagina!)
Mostly, only sexually mutilated males feel 'Sexual Rage.'
Rape in the military is a fairly recent phenomenon which corresponds timewise to the Judeo-American practice of infant male sexual mutilation.
Therefore, our modern national problem with 'rape in the military' has its root cause in the cradle: Infant male sexual mutilation (Jewish Circumcision) is a violent act against a defenseless child which emerges in adulthood as sexual rage and the sexual imperative to rape!
----------
End of theory. Sip. Suck on it.
Back from the fridge with beer #10 at 2130. Sip.
Time to speculate about modern strange and bizarre cultural events. Yep, I'm referring to the high incidence of 'rape in the American Military Services.' I have a 'theory about that.' My 'theory' is that rape is actually 'sexual rage gone apeshit.'
I have never experienced 'sexual rage.' Never. Ever. The two words have no connection at all in my consciousness. And Sexual Rage seems to be a more or less modern phenomenon. Hmm!
Here is The Theory:
----------
Only males, 'Rape.' (Imagine a dominant woman forcing a limp penis into her vagina!)
Mostly, only sexually mutilated males feel 'Sexual Rage.'
Rape in the military is a fairly recent phenomenon which corresponds timewise to the Judeo-American practice of infant male sexual mutilation.
Therefore, our modern national problem with 'rape in the military' has its root cause in the cradle: Infant male sexual mutilation (Jewish Circumcision) is a violent act against a defenseless child which emerges in adulthood as sexual rage and the sexual imperative to rape!
----------
End of theory. Sip. Suck on it.
Father Murphy Breaks the Bad News.
(4)
Sipping on beer #8 at 2045. Sip. Ah! Father Murphy!
As previously reported here on this blog, I would masturbate every night when I woke up in the Orphanage dormatory. Usually I had already 'wet the bed.' I would then empty my bladder in my cold wet bed, enjoying the momentary warm sensuality of it all. I would then masturbate to a mind-stunning orgasm, and fall asleep immediately in spite of my cold, damp environment. Orgasm was a 'sleeping pill' which acted instantaneously. I did it every night. I got lots of sleep. I thought it was 'my little secret.'
True, I always had to get up early before the other boys, then take my wet stuff down to the laundry room, then wash the stuff and hang it on the line to dry. That much is true and became quite routine. But I thought my furtive little masturbating secret was my own little secret. Wrong, apparently. Somebody noticed. Gossip happened! Everybody who was anybody became aware of my (faint boom) habit of jerking off in the middle of every night. 'The powers that be' made the decision to inform me that my furtive nightly doings were not at all 'private:' God was watching me 'do it' and God did not like it at all. Indeed, God would send me to Hell for 'doing it' if I died, unless I made a 'Perfect Act of Contrition' before Biting the Biggie. I continued masturbating, but also became proficient at performing fake Perfect Acts of Contrition.
Father Murphy was the priest who broke the bad news. He 'took me aside' and explained to me that what I was doing every night was wrong and that it was a Mortal Sin and furthermore, God was watching me do it. Every night.
Father murphy must have felt guilt about what he had done to me. He bought me a used bicycle.
Sipping on beer #8 at 2045. Sip. Ah! Father Murphy!
As previously reported here on this blog, I would masturbate every night when I woke up in the Orphanage dormatory. Usually I had already 'wet the bed.' I would then empty my bladder in my cold wet bed, enjoying the momentary warm sensuality of it all. I would then masturbate to a mind-stunning orgasm, and fall asleep immediately in spite of my cold, damp environment. Orgasm was a 'sleeping pill' which acted instantaneously. I did it every night. I got lots of sleep. I thought it was 'my little secret.'
True, I always had to get up early before the other boys, then take my wet stuff down to the laundry room, then wash the stuff and hang it on the line to dry. That much is true and became quite routine. But I thought my furtive little masturbating secret was my own little secret. Wrong, apparently. Somebody noticed. Gossip happened! Everybody who was anybody became aware of my (faint boom) habit of jerking off in the middle of every night. 'The powers that be' made the decision to inform me that my furtive nightly doings were not at all 'private:' God was watching me 'do it' and God did not like it at all. Indeed, God would send me to Hell for 'doing it' if I died, unless I made a 'Perfect Act of Contrition' before Biting the Biggie. I continued masturbating, but also became proficient at performing fake Perfect Acts of Contrition.
Father Murphy was the priest who broke the bad news. He 'took me aside' and explained to me that what I was doing every night was wrong and that it was a Mortal Sin and furthermore, God was watching me do it. Every night.
Father murphy must have felt guilt about what he had done to me. He bought me a used bicycle.
Happy Reading.
(3)
(Hmm. I'm beginning to think that even the simplest small 'nap' can be useful. Sip.) Time to do a 're-read' of last blog... Yep, and I made a small spelling correction.
I'm feeling guilty about 'doing a thumbs-down' on William Braden (And apologies also to Okra). Braden's book can be found at the Psychedelic Library-Contents. These recent links contain a veritable gold mine of information concerning extremely useful mind-expanding drugs. Indeed, I am currently reading, The man who turned on the world. (Nasal swelling due to 'Face Rad' initiates nose blow.) It is the story of the man who bought a huge batch of LSD from Sandoz Pharmaceutical and partnered with Timothy Leary to 'Turn on, Tune in, and Drop out' an entire generation.
I must admit, however, that I am spending most of my time playing C-III. Sip. Happy reading. Sip.
But given the controversial nature of 'mind-altering drugs,' I thought it might be amusing to get God's opinion in that regard. So I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone and 'extended the antenna.' God answered immediately:
----------
gd: Hello?
me: How's it all going?
gd: Pretty good until just very, very, very, very, recently.
me: Excellent. I was wondering about Timothy Leary.
gd: And?
me: Heaven or Hell?
gd: Hell!
me: I thought so.
gd: You can occasionally be perceptive. I will grant you that.
me: Thank You. Michael Hollingshead. Heaven or Hell?
gd: Hell!
Me: Me.?
gd: You do not want to know the answer to that question.
me: OK. We'll leave it at that. Click.
----------
I then dialed Lucifer's number. Lucifer answered immediately.
----------
lu: Hello?
me: Good news! I'm going to Hell when I die!
lu: Surprise, surprise.
me: Timothy Leary. Has he met Jesus yet?
lu: Yes. And he is currently in therapy.
me: Oh really!? Therapy? Is it serious?
lu: Jesus will soon do his first dose of Lysergic Acid Diethelamide Tartrate-25. He is getting instruction and advice from Leary. Any more questions?
me: No more questions. Thank you!
----------
(Hmm. I'm beginning to think that even the simplest small 'nap' can be useful. Sip.) Time to do a 're-read' of last blog... Yep, and I made a small spelling correction.
I'm feeling guilty about 'doing a thumbs-down' on William Braden (And apologies also to Okra). Braden's book can be found at the Psychedelic Library-Contents. These recent links contain a veritable gold mine of information concerning extremely useful mind-expanding drugs. Indeed, I am currently reading, The man who turned on the world. (Nasal swelling due to 'Face Rad' initiates nose blow.) It is the story of the man who bought a huge batch of LSD from Sandoz Pharmaceutical and partnered with Timothy Leary to 'Turn on, Tune in, and Drop out' an entire generation.
I must admit, however, that I am spending most of my time playing C-III. Sip. Happy reading. Sip.
But given the controversial nature of 'mind-altering drugs,' I thought it might be amusing to get God's opinion in that regard. So I dialed 666 on the Brown Telephone and 'extended the antenna.' God answered immediately:
----------
gd: Hello?
me: How's it all going?
gd: Pretty good until just very, very, very, very, recently.
me: Excellent. I was wondering about Timothy Leary.
gd: And?
me: Heaven or Hell?
gd: Hell!
me: I thought so.
gd: You can occasionally be perceptive. I will grant you that.
me: Thank You. Michael Hollingshead. Heaven or Hell?
gd: Hell!
Me: Me.?
gd: You do not want to know the answer to that question.
me: OK. We'll leave it at that. Click.
----------
I then dialed Lucifer's number. Lucifer answered immediately.
----------
lu: Hello?
me: Good news! I'm going to Hell when I die!
lu: Surprise, surprise.
me: Timothy Leary. Has he met Jesus yet?
lu: Yes. And he is currently in therapy.
me: Oh really!? Therapy? Is it serious?
lu: Jesus will soon do his first dose of Lysergic Acid Diethelamide Tartrate-25. He is getting instruction and advice from Leary. Any more questions?
me: No more questions. Thank you!
----------
Huh?
(2)
Thinking about the previous subject, the idea, 'Ritual behavior as a methodology of organized electrochemical systems,' seems to emerge as a concept which can be 'iterated' from simple to very, very complex.' We are machines after all! (And some of us are nicer than others.) Sip. And if we accept the idea that we are nothing more or less than electrochemical machines constantly engaged in cascades of hierarchial ritual, then what good does it do to analyze the processes which produced the question?
Your guess is as good as mine.
Thinking about the previous subject, the idea, 'Ritual behavior as a methodology of organized electrochemical systems,' seems to emerge as a concept which can be 'iterated' from simple to very, very complex.' We are machines after all! (And some of us are nicer than others.) Sip. And if we accept the idea that we are nothing more or less than electrochemical machines constantly engaged in cascades of hierarchial ritual, then what good does it do to analyze the processes which produced the question?
Your guess is as good as mine.
Doing The Ritual.
(1)
Sipping on beer #1 at 1633. Sip. I'm just up from a nap (no sleep at all due to microwave Rad) during which I thought about tonight's blog. After getting up and turning on the lights I got dressed, and, as I slipped on the first sock I thought, 'The Ritual! Do the ritual!' Sip. So I 'did the ritual:' I stopped thinking about tonight's blog. I stopped thinking about everything except that which was happening automatically right in front of my eyes: Putting on my socks and shoes. 'How complex!' And yet it was happening as if somebody else was doing it for me and I was only an observer! (End of beer #1 at 1647... on the way back from the fridge with beer #2 I met Kootch in the hallway and we giggled at each other. Buzzing slightly. Sip.) I watched the ritual intensely, never taking my eyes away from the complex procedure happening right in front of my eyes, devoting my entire attention to 'doing the ritual.' After my shoes had been tied, I got up, and thus ended The Ritual. Try it. You'll like it!
I expected to find 'ritual behavior' on Wikipedia, and was amazed that it was not there! We need to fix that, people! I'm too buzy with C-III at the moment. You do it.
Other examples of 'ritual behavior' are, shaving, eating, walking, running, masturbating, bicycling, etc. And I could go on and on. I'm not sure, but I think that the Cerebelum is much involved with the motor cortex in the management of all the various rituals we routinely perform, freeing the rest of the brain to do other stuff at the same time. Masturbation is an interesting example: Your 'conscious mind' is free to conjure and create various 'hot sexual scenerios' while your 'ritual mind' does the dirty work.
I bring up this particular subject as part of the study of 'meta-cognition' and 'meta-awareness.' Sip.
This is such fun! Sip.
Sipping on beer #1 at 1633. Sip. I'm just up from a nap (no sleep at all due to microwave Rad) during which I thought about tonight's blog. After getting up and turning on the lights I got dressed, and, as I slipped on the first sock I thought, 'The Ritual! Do the ritual!' Sip. So I 'did the ritual:' I stopped thinking about tonight's blog. I stopped thinking about everything except that which was happening automatically right in front of my eyes: Putting on my socks and shoes. 'How complex!' And yet it was happening as if somebody else was doing it for me and I was only an observer! (End of beer #1 at 1647... on the way back from the fridge with beer #2 I met Kootch in the hallway and we giggled at each other. Buzzing slightly. Sip.) I watched the ritual intensely, never taking my eyes away from the complex procedure happening right in front of my eyes, devoting my entire attention to 'doing the ritual.' After my shoes had been tied, I got up, and thus ended The Ritual. Try it. You'll like it!
I expected to find 'ritual behavior' on Wikipedia, and was amazed that it was not there! We need to fix that, people! I'm too buzy with C-III at the moment. You do it.
Other examples of 'ritual behavior' are, shaving, eating, walking, running, masturbating, bicycling, etc. And I could go on and on. I'm not sure, but I think that the Cerebelum is much involved with the motor cortex in the management of all the various rituals we routinely perform, freeing the rest of the brain to do other stuff at the same time. Masturbation is an interesting example: Your 'conscious mind' is free to conjure and create various 'hot sexual scenerios' while your 'ritual mind' does the dirty work.
I bring up this particular subject as part of the study of 'meta-cognition' and 'meta-awareness.' Sip.
This is such fun! Sip.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Parting Musical selections.
(6)
But first, I want to add a few last selections:
Aloha Oe. Hawaii.
Lilly Marlene. His French girlfriend.
La Paloma. This was my mother's favorite.
Oyasuminasai.
But first, I want to add a few last selections:
Aloha Oe. Hawaii.
Lilly Marlene. His French girlfriend.
La Paloma. This was my mother's favorite.
Oyasuminasai.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Hongry!
(5)
Sipping on Diet Pepsi and Canadian Mist at 2240. Sip. Beer is gone down the tubes, headed for the potty. Now what?
Time to eat!
I am so hongry!
Goodnight. See you all next week.
Sipping on Diet Pepsi and Canadian Mist at 2240. Sip. Beer is gone down the tubes, headed for the potty. Now what?
Time to eat!
I am so hongry!
Goodnight. See you all next week.
I love you Alexander Shulgin!
(4)
So I once again find myself 'an authority' in regards to the psychedelic drug, LSD! Fun! (If it aint fun, don't do it.)
LSD and other related drugs will 'disassemble you.'
'Disassembly' is a good thing. Disassembly is accompanied by buzz. You will begin to buzz. You will love it. The buzz will increase rapidly. You will begin to see amazing things, even when you close your eyes. Indeed, you will be so very 'disassembled' that you cannot move or otherwise communicate very well with your immediate humans. If you concentrate on the glorious colors you will love the flow. Music immensely amplifies that total flow. You must realize what is happening and 'let go.' Go with the flow.
Braden did not mention 'buzz' at all. Indeed, it seemed to me that Braden was not describing his 'trip' accurately. I came away with the impression that Braden was mostly interested in selling his book.
Thumbs down on Braden. Sip. This must be beer #11. Lemmee check... yep. One beer left in the fridge.
After doing many LSD Trips I can tell you that an LSD trip can be the most important and amazing experience of your entire life. Don't miss it! A single LSD trip can make your entire life worthwhile! A single LSD Trip can teach you... everything!
Do you hesitate to do LSD for lack of 'An LSD saint?'
You need a fucking 'saint?' Ok. No problem. I have the 'saint' for you: Alexander Shulgin. I love you, Alexander Shulgin! I love you so much!
Working on beer #12 at 2145. Sip.
So I once again find myself 'an authority' in regards to the psychedelic drug, LSD! Fun! (If it aint fun, don't do it.)
LSD and other related drugs will 'disassemble you.'
'Disassembly' is a good thing. Disassembly is accompanied by buzz. You will begin to buzz. You will love it. The buzz will increase rapidly. You will begin to see amazing things, even when you close your eyes. Indeed, you will be so very 'disassembled' that you cannot move or otherwise communicate very well with your immediate humans. If you concentrate on the glorious colors you will love the flow. Music immensely amplifies that total flow. You must realize what is happening and 'let go.' Go with the flow.
Braden did not mention 'buzz' at all. Indeed, it seemed to me that Braden was not describing his 'trip' accurately. I came away with the impression that Braden was mostly interested in selling his book.
Thumbs down on Braden. Sip. This must be beer #11. Lemmee check... yep. One beer left in the fridge.
After doing many LSD Trips I can tell you that an LSD trip can be the most important and amazing experience of your entire life. Don't miss it! A single LSD trip can make your entire life worthwhile! A single LSD Trip can teach you... everything!
Do you hesitate to do LSD for lack of 'An LSD saint?'
You need a fucking 'saint?' Ok. No problem. I have the 'saint' for you: Alexander Shulgin. I love you, Alexander Shulgin! I love you so much!
Working on beer #12 at 2145. Sip.
A Bad Trip.
(3)
Sipping on beer #7 at 1830. Sip. Ha! I just looked over at Daruma. Fun. And I also just looked up Bodhidharma. One is simple; the other is complex.
----------
But back now to (6) below. The book, The Private Sea (LSD and the Search for God) was interesting but way too 'philosophical.' And as I thumbed through it again this week I reread the author's account of his very own 'psychedelic trip.'
Apparently, having written a book on the subject of LSD and the surrounding psychology and philosophy, he felt obligated to actually do such a 'trip.' Eheh! Admirable! So he contacted a couple of Jewish (aren't they always Jewish?) psychologists at Ridgway Psychiatric Hospital in Chicago. He told them that he felt obligated to 'do a trip' before he published his book. Eheh.
LSD was not available, but a psychedelic substite was available: Mescaline. They informed him that he had been granted immediate entry into a new and important study using Mescaline, a related 'psychedelic.' Eheh. How convenient!
Braden made some attempt to describe his particular 'set' before describing the clinical 'setting.'
They imbibed him with 490 miligrams of Mescaline. Nothing much happened at first. And the author mentions that 'the atmosphere of a psychiatric hospital was far from ideal given the nature of the 'experiment.' Right!
Indeed, a 'psychiatric hospital is just about the very last place I would think about as I was considering location in that regard! Fuck!
It turned out to be a Bad Trip, and The Jews eventually rescued him with Thorazine.
Sipping on beer #7 at 1830. Sip. Ha! I just looked over at Daruma. Fun. And I also just looked up Bodhidharma. One is simple; the other is complex.
----------
But back now to (6) below. The book, The Private Sea (LSD and the Search for God) was interesting but way too 'philosophical.' And as I thumbed through it again this week I reread the author's account of his very own 'psychedelic trip.'
Apparently, having written a book on the subject of LSD and the surrounding psychology and philosophy, he felt obligated to actually do such a 'trip.' Eheh! Admirable! So he contacted a couple of Jewish (aren't they always Jewish?) psychologists at Ridgway Psychiatric Hospital in Chicago. He told them that he felt obligated to 'do a trip' before he published his book. Eheh.
LSD was not available, but a psychedelic substite was available: Mescaline. They informed him that he had been granted immediate entry into a new and important study using Mescaline, a related 'psychedelic.' Eheh. How convenient!
Braden made some attempt to describe his particular 'set' before describing the clinical 'setting.'
They imbibed him with 490 miligrams of Mescaline. Nothing much happened at first. And the author mentions that 'the atmosphere of a psychiatric hospital was far from ideal given the nature of the 'experiment.' Right!
Indeed, a 'psychiatric hospital is just about the very last place I would think about as I was considering location in that regard! Fuck!
It turned out to be a Bad Trip, and The Jews eventually rescued him with Thorazine.
Circumcised Eyes.
(2)
Daruma is staring at me. He does not look happy.
Notice his right eye. It seems a bit 'cloudy,' as if some of the black pupil has been abraided away. I noticed this recently when I 'recruited him' to be with me while I blogged tonight. (Oops, I forgot to reset the 45 minute timer and I am sitting here with an empty can. Hmm. Ok, I think we'll modify the terms of the experiment again to include one emergency refill when the subject forgets to reset the timer. Back from the fridge with beer #4. Sip. Reset timer. Sip)
Daruma is staring at me. He does not look happy.
Notice his right eye. It seems a bit 'cloudy,' as if some of the black pupil has been abraided away. I noticed this recently when I 'recruited him' to be with me while I blogged tonight. (Oops, I forgot to reset the 45 minute timer and I am sitting here with an empty can. Hmm. Ok, I think we'll modify the terms of the experiment again to include one emergency refill when the subject forgets to reset the timer. Back from the fridge with beer #4. Sip. Reset timer. Sip)
Kootch brought Daruma from Japan. He was a gift to her brother from a fan. Her brother died. Kootch brought Daruma to me, aware of my interest in Zen (thump above me). Or maybe it was 'just a memento.'
I just finished beer #4 and am buzzing quite nicely. Only 35 minutes until I can pop open beer #5. Snort. Now coughing from L Lung Rad; L nasal mucosa also swelling.
I decided to use Daruma this week after re-reading last week's debacle. And Daruma fits with the current theme of 'meta-awareness.'
Back from the fridge with beer #5. 22 minutes left on the 45 minute beer timer. Snort.
Daruma reminds me that I am alive. He apparently does it telepathically when I look at him. Good ole Daruma. I only need him when I'm drunk, but he helps even when I'm sober. You should get a Daruma. I highly recommend a 'Family Daruma.'
But DO NOT circumcise your eyes! (Or, for that matter, the family penises. Mother Nature knew exactly what She was doing when She invented eyelids and foreskins.)
Which brings us to tonight's music: Blue Spanish Eyes.
I suspect that this particular Daruma was (tap) 'inserted into my life' back in the '90s by the stalker Gerash. Back in those days my right eye 'watered' frequently, probably due to heating of the lens by microwave radiation directed at me from the apartment above or below. (Being zapped now by 'nose rad.' Nine sneezes so far; both eyes watering profusely (10 now); L nasal mucosa swollen slightly more than R nasal mucosa. Attack seems to be over now at 1754. Sniff.
Possibly Gerash wanted me to 'make the connection' many years later when my right eye needed 'lens replacement.' But he could not, of course, have imagined 'the context' in which his sick perversion would eventually become public.
Possibly Gerash wanted me to 'make the connection' many years later when my right eye needed 'lens replacement.' But he could not, of course, have imagined 'the context' in which his sick perversion would eventually become public.
The beginning is amusing...
(1)
Sipping on beer #1 at 1544. Sip. Time to reread last blog posts. Again. Sip. Ok. It began brilliantly and went downhill rapidly as I got drunk. Tonight I'm trying an experiment: time limits. No more than one beer every 45 minutes. You laugh. Ok, ok, ok, two beers may be consumed in the first 45 minute segment. Sip. Back from the fridge with beer #2 at 24 minutes into the experiment. Sip. Buzzing outrageously already. Sip. (And notice that I did not mention whiskey. Sip.)
So much microwave radiation last night! Gerash is pissed. Good. But I am not a Masochist. Not. Gerash is clearly a Sadist, however. I was planning to do this last Wednesday, but felt too sleep-deprived. Then Friday was scheduled, but I again felt too sleep deprived (due again to nighttime 'Rad'). Today I again felt sleep deprived after yet another night of Rad, but took a two hour nap from 1200 to 1400 and got some dreamless sleep. So here I am again. I am trying to limit my 'drunk blog nights' to three times per month instead of once per week, so you can't count on a regular schedule. I'm just too old to get drunk once every week.
Just tossed down my last gulp of beer (3.2 Natural Light) at 1620. Less than three minutes until I can begin sipping on beer #3 in accordance with the new terms of the original beer consumption experiment. Snort. (I just swallowed some radiation-produced mucus. It'll have to do...)
Beep... beep... sip.
Coughing due to right lung Rad at 1630. Nasal passages swelling. Nothing unusual. Snort.
Sipping on beer #1 at 1544. Sip. Time to reread last blog posts. Again. Sip. Ok. It began brilliantly and went downhill rapidly as I got drunk. Tonight I'm trying an experiment: time limits. No more than one beer every 45 minutes. You laugh. Ok, ok, ok, two beers may be consumed in the first 45 minute segment. Sip. Back from the fridge with beer #2 at 24 minutes into the experiment. Sip. Buzzing outrageously already. Sip. (And notice that I did not mention whiskey. Sip.)
So much microwave radiation last night! Gerash is pissed. Good. But I am not a Masochist. Not. Gerash is clearly a Sadist, however. I was planning to do this last Wednesday, but felt too sleep-deprived. Then Friday was scheduled, but I again felt too sleep deprived (due again to nighttime 'Rad'). Today I again felt sleep deprived after yet another night of Rad, but took a two hour nap from 1200 to 1400 and got some dreamless sleep. So here I am again. I am trying to limit my 'drunk blog nights' to three times per month instead of once per week, so you can't count on a regular schedule. I'm just too old to get drunk once every week.
Just tossed down my last gulp of beer (3.2 Natural Light) at 1620. Less than three minutes until I can begin sipping on beer #3 in accordance with the new terms of the original beer consumption experiment. Snort. (I just swallowed some radiation-produced mucus. It'll have to do...)
Beep... beep... sip.
Coughing due to right lung Rad at 1630. Nasal passages swelling. Nothing unusual. Snort.
Thursday, May 09, 2013
Goodnight.
(6)
My interest in this sort of thing not only dated back to my high school classes in 'Apologetics,' but also to my many 'Acid Trips.' Every single Acid Trip provided me with an astonishing experience which could not be soon forgotten. My previous studies of Epistemology seemed to explain that my current (immediate) perceptions during Acid Trips were only examples of chemical processes at work in my CNS.
Which brings us to my very last book for tonight; a book which tends to elude you folks out there who fall into the category of, 'normal dumbasses.' Here are the quotes from the book, 'The Private Sea: LSD and the Search for God:'
----------
'To begin with, psychedelic experience is closer to Zen than it is to anything else the East has to offer.'
'Our normal mode of thinking can be described as, survival-thinking. We see a traffic signal and we think 'stop' rather than 'pretty red light.''
(At which point I will 'sign out.')
My interest in this sort of thing not only dated back to my high school classes in 'Apologetics,' but also to my many 'Acid Trips.' Every single Acid Trip provided me with an astonishing experience which could not be soon forgotten. My previous studies of Epistemology seemed to explain that my current (immediate) perceptions during Acid Trips were only examples of chemical processes at work in my CNS.
Which brings us to my very last book for tonight; a book which tends to elude you folks out there who fall into the category of, 'normal dumbasses.' Here are the quotes from the book, 'The Private Sea: LSD and the Search for God:'
----------
'To begin with, psychedelic experience is closer to Zen than it is to anything else the East has to offer.'
'Our normal mode of thinking can be described as, survival-thinking. We see a traffic signal and we think 'stop' rather than 'pretty red light.''
(At which point I will 'sign out.')
Finite and Infinite Games.
(5)
Sip. Concerning the concept of 'life games' I would also like to recommend Finite and Infinite Games, by James P. Carse. (A vision of life as Play and Possibility.)
'There are at least two kinds of games. One could be called finite, the other infinite. A finite game is played for the purpose of winning; an infinite game for the purpose of continuing the play.'
And here are other tantalizing quotes from this glorious book:
'Whoever is touched and whoever touches cannot but be surprised.'
'Genius arises with touch.'
'Touching is always reciprocal. You cannot touch me unless I touch you in response.'
'The opposite of touching is moving.'
'We can be moved only by way of our veils. We are touched through our veils.'
Sip. Concerning the concept of 'life games' I would also like to recommend Finite and Infinite Games, by James P. Carse. (A vision of life as Play and Possibility.)
'There are at least two kinds of games. One could be called finite, the other infinite. A finite game is played for the purpose of winning; an infinite game for the purpose of continuing the play.'
And here are other tantalizing quotes from this glorious book:
'Whoever is touched and whoever touches cannot but be surprised.'
'Genius arises with touch.'
'Touching is always reciprocal. You cannot touch me unless I touch you in response.'
'The opposite of touching is moving.'
'We can be moved only by way of our veils. We are touched through our veils.'
Wednesday, May 08, 2013
'Seek above all, for a game worth playing.'
(4)
Sipping on beer #8 at 2219. Sip. Which brings up an interesting question: Just how much did sexual mutilation at age 9 affect David's sex life? I can only guess.
My 'sexual life' began in about 1944 (at about age 9) in North Charleston SC when my father worked at the Naval base there. I began to have 'spontaneous orgasms' while running. Those incidents were rare but unforgettable. I would be running, and suddenly there would be a 'golden feeling' between my waist and my knees. It was glorious! I would immediately stop running, but I would continue to 'run in place' for maybe ten seconds as the orgasm proceeded. I made absolutely no 'sexual connection' with those amazing incidents. I would later discover in about 1945 that If I manipulated my penis quickly (tap) enough while in bed at night, I could reproduce that same feeling: I had discovered masturbation, the most potent 'self-nurturing procedure' ever invented by Mother Nature!
(The Jews, of course, had long been claiming that masturbation caused insanity. Eheh. Quite the opposite.) Snip! Argh!
Working on beer #9 at 2243, buzzing moderately. Sip.
(Ha! I just 'remembered myself!' I... am... alive!)
----------
Which brings us back to Esoteric Books; in this case, The Master Game. By ROBERT S. DE ROPP. It begins,
----------
'This book is concerned with games and aims.
It has been stated by Thomas Szasz that what people really need and demand from life is not wealth, comfort or esteem but games worth playing...' 'Seek, above all, for a game worth playing.' ... 'If life does not seem to offer a game worth playing, then invent one.'
Sipping on beer #8 at 2219. Sip. Which brings up an interesting question: Just how much did sexual mutilation at age 9 affect David's sex life? I can only guess.
My 'sexual life' began in about 1944 (at about age 9) in North Charleston SC when my father worked at the Naval base there. I began to have 'spontaneous orgasms' while running. Those incidents were rare but unforgettable. I would be running, and suddenly there would be a 'golden feeling' between my waist and my knees. It was glorious! I would immediately stop running, but I would continue to 'run in place' for maybe ten seconds as the orgasm proceeded. I made absolutely no 'sexual connection' with those amazing incidents. I would later discover in about 1945 that If I manipulated my penis quickly (tap) enough while in bed at night, I could reproduce that same feeling: I had discovered masturbation, the most potent 'self-nurturing procedure' ever invented by Mother Nature!
(The Jews, of course, had long been claiming that masturbation caused insanity. Eheh. Quite the opposite.) Snip! Argh!
Working on beer #9 at 2243, buzzing moderately. Sip.
(Ha! I just 'remembered myself!' I... am... alive!)
----------
Which brings us back to Esoteric Books; in this case, The Master Game. By ROBERT S. DE ROPP. It begins,
----------
'This book is concerned with games and aims.
It has been stated by Thomas Szasz that what people really need and demand from life is not wealth, comfort or esteem but games worth playing...' 'Seek, above all, for a game worth playing.' ... 'If life does not seem to offer a game worth playing, then invent one.'
Jewish Revenge.
(3)
My brother and I were sent to the Charleston Catholic Orphanage at 120 Queen Street. (This is the front view. The second floor is the nun's floor, and the white structure on the left in the nun's chapel. The boy's area is under the nun's chapel. The girl's area is possibly on the right side of the photo. We were never allowed to go there. I could never even see my sister.) This is the rear view from the back yard. The boy's dormatory is on the fourth or fifth floor.
My brother and I were so traumatized by our sudden change of life that we both began wetting the bed immediately. Then, I think, The Jews became involved in our lives.
The nuns must have passed the 'bed-wetting info' on to a 'higher authority.' Possibly Jewish doctors were 'consulted' regarding a 'bedwetting cure.' Those Jewish doctors may have seen our familial problem as an opportunity to 'do a study.'
It was soon after the end of WWII and American Jews were horrified by 'The Holocaust.' Those Jews began a secret program to 'Circumcise America.' It was a kind of 'revenge.' My brother and I became subjects in a special study: Circumcise David, but leave Raymond intact. Follow them for the rest of their lives, noting anything which might demonstrate that circumcision benefitted David and/or damaged Raymond. Indeed, it was permissible, in this 'study,' to 'assist David' and to 'inhibit Raymond.' I thereby became one of the very first victims of the new phenomenon of 'Tribe-stalking.' Only many years later would 'stalking' become a crime. (Note the font changes.)
David and I were assigned to two different dormitories, while all other brothers of similar age were assigned to the same dormitories. Not that it mattered to David and I. Never very close, we drifted further apart.
My brother and I were sent to the Charleston Catholic Orphanage at 120 Queen Street. (This is the front view. The second floor is the nun's floor, and the white structure on the left in the nun's chapel. The boy's area is under the nun's chapel. The girl's area is possibly on the right side of the photo. We were never allowed to go there. I could never even see my sister.) This is the rear view from the back yard. The boy's dormatory is on the fourth or fifth floor.
My brother and I were so traumatized by our sudden change of life that we both began wetting the bed immediately. Then, I think, The Jews became involved in our lives.
The nuns must have passed the 'bed-wetting info' on to a 'higher authority.' Possibly Jewish doctors were 'consulted' regarding a 'bedwetting cure.' Those Jewish doctors may have seen our familial problem as an opportunity to 'do a study.'
It was soon after the end of WWII and American Jews were horrified by 'The Holocaust.' Those Jews began a secret program to 'Circumcise America.' It was a kind of 'revenge.' My brother and I became subjects in a special study: Circumcise David, but leave Raymond intact. Follow them for the rest of their lives, noting anything which might demonstrate that circumcision benefitted David and/or damaged Raymond. Indeed, it was permissible, in this 'study,' to 'assist David' and to 'inhibit Raymond.' I thereby became one of the very first victims of the new phenomenon of 'Tribe-stalking.' Only many years later would 'stalking' become a crime. (Note the font changes.)
David and I were assigned to two different dormitories, while all other brothers of similar age were assigned to the same dormitories. Not that it mattered to David and I. Never very close, we drifted further apart.
What a Glorious Family!
(2)
Amanda Knox has been on CNN recently, giving us her side of the story. I was fascinated by the interviews. I have always thought she was innocent, and what I saw on CNN recently only tended to confirm my previous judgement in that regard. And what a family she has! Certainly the international publicity focused on them pretty much obligated them perform heroically, and they did. And as I watched those TV expositions of the Knox family I thought about my own family, and compared hers with mine. No contest! Compared with the Knox family, mine was a total flop:
----------
I didn't like my mother very much. Nor my father. I have few memories of them, very few of my father. Apparently, my mother 'ran away from home' (in Wisconsin or Minnesota) in her early '20s and met my father in Texas. Was she escaping an unwanted familial sexual situation? Possibly. They got married (in Texas?) and ended up back in his home town of Charleston SC. I was born at the Catholic hospital, Saint Francis. My brother may also have been born at that hospital. We were both left unmutilated (uncircumcised). WWII happened. We moved around, first to N. Charleston where daddy worked at the naval base there, then to Nashville, Tennessee. I remember my father would get drunk and write stuff (Eheh). He was an honor graduate of the College of Charleston. Catholic. He later apparently dropped the religion entirely, as I remember that he would often go outside during mass and wait for us. My mother (a Lutheran convert to Catholicism) 'kept the faith.'
They split up at the end of WWII. Us kids ended up with our mother and grandmother in Charleston. Grandmother babysat us during the day, while mother worked as a telephone operator. Apparently, grandma did not supervise us effectively and I severely injured my toe in a junk yard one day. Father Wolfe suggested the Catholic Orphanage.
Amanda Knox has been on CNN recently, giving us her side of the story. I was fascinated by the interviews. I have always thought she was innocent, and what I saw on CNN recently only tended to confirm my previous judgement in that regard. And what a family she has! Certainly the international publicity focused on them pretty much obligated them perform heroically, and they did. And as I watched those TV expositions of the Knox family I thought about my own family, and compared hers with mine. No contest! Compared with the Knox family, mine was a total flop:
----------
I didn't like my mother very much. Nor my father. I have few memories of them, very few of my father. Apparently, my mother 'ran away from home' (in Wisconsin or Minnesota) in her early '20s and met my father in Texas. Was she escaping an unwanted familial sexual situation? Possibly. They got married (in Texas?) and ended up back in his home town of Charleston SC. I was born at the Catholic hospital, Saint Francis. My brother may also have been born at that hospital. We were both left unmutilated (uncircumcised). WWII happened. We moved around, first to N. Charleston where daddy worked at the naval base there, then to Nashville, Tennessee. I remember my father would get drunk and write stuff (Eheh). He was an honor graduate of the College of Charleston. Catholic. He later apparently dropped the religion entirely, as I remember that he would often go outside during mass and wait for us. My mother (a Lutheran convert to Catholicism) 'kept the faith.'
They split up at the end of WWII. Us kids ended up with our mother and grandmother in Charleston. Grandmother babysat us during the day, while mother worked as a telephone operator. Apparently, grandma did not supervise us effectively and I severely injured my toe in a junk yard one day. Father Wolfe suggested the Catholic Orphanage.
Do You Have a Pre-Ex?
(1)
Sipping on beer #2 at 1904, buzzing sluggishly. Sip. I was planning to do the blog this coming Friday, but the weather forecasts suggested that tonight would be a better time. So, I took two 'naps' today in an attempt to get my CNS up to 'Blogger speed.' And here I am. (And my mind is a blank.) Time to reread last week... Yep. That 'interview with god' grew out of my chief criticism of Judeo-Christian Mythology: (1) God creates imperfect beings. (2) God imposes certain 'rules of behavior' on those imperfect creations. (3) When those imperfect beings (inevitably) 'break the rules,' God punishes them in Hell forever. Forever? Huh?
So I was thinking of a way to prevent such an obvious injustice: a Pre-Existence Agreement. (Think 'pre-nuptual agreement.') Such an agreement would require God to pre-create a person before doing the actual creation of that person. The precreated person would be advised of his rights to decline actual creation, and would be provided with a Jewish lawyer at no charge. (Yes, I know we're getting a bit bizarre hereabouts, but bear with me.) The three of them would negotiate an agreement satisfactory to all concerned, the object of which is to totally prevent any form of Eternal Punishment. It is designed to be a totally foolproof system.
Sipping on beer #2 at 1904, buzzing sluggishly. Sip. I was planning to do the blog this coming Friday, but the weather forecasts suggested that tonight would be a better time. So, I took two 'naps' today in an attempt to get my CNS up to 'Blogger speed.' And here I am. (And my mind is a blank.) Time to reread last week... Yep. That 'interview with god' grew out of my chief criticism of Judeo-Christian Mythology: (1) God creates imperfect beings. (2) God imposes certain 'rules of behavior' on those imperfect creations. (3) When those imperfect beings (inevitably) 'break the rules,' God punishes them in Hell forever. Forever? Huh?
So I was thinking of a way to prevent such an obvious injustice: a Pre-Existence Agreement. (Think 'pre-nuptual agreement.') Such an agreement would require God to pre-create a person before doing the actual creation of that person. The precreated person would be advised of his rights to decline actual creation, and would be provided with a Jewish lawyer at no charge. (Yes, I know we're getting a bit bizarre hereabouts, but bear with me.) The three of them would negotiate an agreement satisfactory to all concerned, the object of which is to totally prevent any form of Eternal Punishment. It is designed to be a totally foolproof system.
Wednesday, May 01, 2013
Now or Never.
(4)
I'll sign out tonight sipping on beer #12 with the following quote from Mystic Path to Cosmic Power:
----------
"The present moment is all there is; there isn't anything else. Reality is whatever thought, or feeling, or event we experience now. We may think about an unhappy past or hopeful future, but we think about them now. Yesterday and tomorrow do not exist except as this moment's memory, or anticipation. To try to live in them creates illusion and conflict. Happiness is truly now or never.
Confine yourself to the present."
----------
Sip.
I'll sign out tonight sipping on beer #12 with the following quote from Mystic Path to Cosmic Power:
----------
"The present moment is all there is; there isn't anything else. Reality is whatever thought, or feeling, or event we experience now. We may think about an unhappy past or hopeful future, but we think about them now. Yesterday and tomorrow do not exist except as this moment's memory, or anticipation. To try to live in them creates illusion and conflict. Happiness is truly now or never.
Confine yourself to the present."
----------
Sip.
Existence Agreement?
(3)
Sipping on beer #9 at 1952. Sip. Isn't this fun! Sip.
Yes it is.
Which brings us to the question of 'permission:' God did not ask for my 'permission' before he created me. He just created me, no questions asked. I began to exist whether I liked it or not! I had not signed any kind of 'existence agreement,' and I bubbled up into His Universe without even a Jewish lawyer at my side! Bad Idea.
Furthermore, the following rule applies:
----------
1. Act appropriately or burn in Hell forever after you die.
(Huh?!)
----------
I decided to call the Jewish God WHTZSNM on the Brown Telephone. I dialed 666 and 'extended the antenna.' God answered immediately.
----------
gd: Hello?
me: Show me a copy of my 'existence agreement.'
gd: Don't be silly. There is no such document.
me: Then I demand to be removed.
gd: Removed from what?
me: Removed from your stupid fucking Universe.
gd: Request denied. Suck on it! (click)
----------
And I could go on and on, of course, but I am writing... advertisement. Really. I am advertising,The Mystic Path to Cosmic Power (by Vernon Howard). This is an iteration of The Fourth Way, written in a more modern context. I loved it! Enjoy.
Sipping on beer #9 at 1952. Sip. Isn't this fun! Sip.
Yes it is.
Which brings us to the question of 'permission:' God did not ask for my 'permission' before he created me. He just created me, no questions asked. I began to exist whether I liked it or not! I had not signed any kind of 'existence agreement,' and I bubbled up into His Universe without even a Jewish lawyer at my side! Bad Idea.
Furthermore, the following rule applies:
----------
1. Act appropriately or burn in Hell forever after you die.
(Huh?!)
----------
I decided to call the Jewish God WHTZSNM on the Brown Telephone. I dialed 666 and 'extended the antenna.' God answered immediately.
----------
gd: Hello?
me: Show me a copy of my 'existence agreement.'
gd: Don't be silly. There is no such document.
me: Then I demand to be removed.
gd: Removed from what?
me: Removed from your stupid fucking Universe.
gd: Request denied. Suck on it! (click)
----------
And I could go on and on, of course, but I am writing... advertisement. Really. I am advertising,The Mystic Path to Cosmic Power (by Vernon Howard). This is an iteration of The Fourth Way, written in a more modern context. I loved it! Enjoy.
Eternal Life? Huh?
(2)
Now sipping on beer #6, buzzing appropriately. Sip.
Over the years, I got better and better at 'self-remembering.' And I began to notice that whenever I found myself in one of those 'forgotten moments,' It was less and less 'traumatic.' Eventually, after at least several years, it 'dawned on me' that 'the shock' had disappeared. That is to say, I was no longer 'shocked' by the thought or realization that I had 'forgotten myself.' Indeed, I could 'flip' back and forth between 'concentration' and 'general awareness' with no 'shock' at all! They were the same thing! I was awake,
and 'The experiment' had disappeared!
Even now, as I write this, I can 'flip' back and forth between 'what I am doing' and my 'aliveness' seamlessly.
Sipping on beer #7 at 1903. Sip. I can't tell you how many years it took. It was a process, and that process may still be active. Probably is!
Have I 'created my soul?' Will I therefore 'live forever' instead of 'dying like a dog?' I think not (notice the font change).
I don't need to 'live forever' because I already have Eternal Life!
Whether I like it or not!
And 'There's the rub...'
Now sipping on beer #6, buzzing appropriately. Sip.
Over the years, I got better and better at 'self-remembering.' And I began to notice that whenever I found myself in one of those 'forgotten moments,' It was less and less 'traumatic.' Eventually, after at least several years, it 'dawned on me' that 'the shock' had disappeared. That is to say, I was no longer 'shocked' by the thought or realization that I had 'forgotten myself.' Indeed, I could 'flip' back and forth between 'concentration' and 'general awareness' with no 'shock' at all! They were the same thing! I was awake,
and 'The experiment' had disappeared!
Even now, as I write this, I can 'flip' back and forth between 'what I am doing' and my 'aliveness' seamlessly.
Sipping on beer #7 at 1903. Sip. I can't tell you how many years it took. It was a process, and that process may still be active. Probably is!
Have I 'created my soul?' Will I therefore 'live forever' instead of 'dying like a dog?' I think not (notice the font change).
I don't need to 'live forever' because I already have Eternal Life!
Whether I like it or not!
And 'There's the rub...'
I Am Alive! How Interesting!
(1)
Sipping on beer #2 at 1707. Sip. Buzzing slightly. Just finished re-reading last week. Naughty methodology! And I was right about the music link. It 'stuck in my head' all week (almost) before being replaced by the 'perennial favorite,' Shina No Yoru (China Nights). My brain seems to have a mind of its own sometimes.
Oh, well... back to the subjects at hand: Esotericism and Mysticism. The Fourth Way (see previous posts for the link) is a complex book and not all of it appealed to me (only about 90%). I was most interested in 'Self-Remembering,' because it seemed to be a 'testable hypothesis.' I tried it and was immediately struck by the fact that I quickly 'forgot myself!' 'Damn! This looks like fun!' I began 'the project' by trying to 'self-remember' for limited periods of time. Shopping (for food) was a natural scenerio for the experiment, and I began at the super market. Could I do my shopping and 'remember myself' at the same time? Nope. I could do it for a while, but almost anything unusual would cause me to drop that dual awareness of 'shopping' and 'being alive in the moment.' I was always shocked by that point in time when I became aware that I had 'forgot I was alive.' Huh? How could I?!
I invented an unusual sensual experience to assist my 'self-remembering project': Women's Underpants. (I have been a big fan of women's underpants for many years. My favorite scenerio is when she has spread her legs 90 degrees and my left hand is 'clasped' around her crotch. (I also love to wear women's underpants. It's called 'a fetish.')) I would always wear women's underpants whenever I went shopping for food, and I would use the resulting 'sensations' as an aid to 'self-remembering:' 'I am alive!' 'How interesting!'
Sipping on beer #2 at 1707. Sip. Buzzing slightly. Just finished re-reading last week. Naughty methodology! And I was right about the music link. It 'stuck in my head' all week (almost) before being replaced by the 'perennial favorite,' Shina No Yoru (China Nights). My brain seems to have a mind of its own sometimes.
Oh, well... back to the subjects at hand: Esotericism and Mysticism. The Fourth Way (see previous posts for the link) is a complex book and not all of it appealed to me (only about 90%). I was most interested in 'Self-Remembering,' because it seemed to be a 'testable hypothesis.' I tried it and was immediately struck by the fact that I quickly 'forgot myself!' 'Damn! This looks like fun!' I began 'the project' by trying to 'self-remember' for limited periods of time. Shopping (for food) was a natural scenerio for the experiment, and I began at the super market. Could I do my shopping and 'remember myself' at the same time? Nope. I could do it for a while, but almost anything unusual would cause me to drop that dual awareness of 'shopping' and 'being alive in the moment.' I was always shocked by that point in time when I became aware that I had 'forgot I was alive.' Huh? How could I?!
I invented an unusual sensual experience to assist my 'self-remembering project': Women's Underpants. (I have been a big fan of women's underpants for many years. My favorite scenerio is when she has spread her legs 90 degrees and my left hand is 'clasped' around her crotch. (I also love to wear women's underpants. It's called 'a fetish.')) I would always wear women's underpants whenever I went shopping for food, and I would use the resulting 'sensations' as an aid to 'self-remembering:' 'I am alive!' 'How interesting!'
