Dog Poet Transmitting.......
May your noses always be cold and wet.
You can can blame it on a general trend toward brutishness. You can blame it on some secret, official, policy of general intimidation as a precursor to a generalized practice and performance of outrage upon humanity. In order for the complete and total corporate control of the populations to take place it is necessary for the population to be put into a state of acquiescence for all sort of horrible actions as a matter of routine. You can blame it on any number of things but I blame it on a rising pandemic of insanity.
The business of Shallow Graves goes on because there are some number of characters out there like this. He's one of the waiters at the 'all you can eat' Kali Yuga Buffet Diner. Since everyone is helping themselves, Kali Yuga again, the waiters have more free time that they ought to, so they can scan the crowd for their own idea of 'all you can eat'. One of the things I remember Guru Bawa saying, was that the emergence of cannibalism was a sign of the end of the culture. I'm paraphrasing but, no harm done to his point. In yet other words... be aware of where you are and the critical implications of the moment; all of these moments strung like Rosary Beads around the neck of the planetary puppeteer. This is not Houston and I don't have a problem. There are no problems. There are only conditions and the way deeper into their complexity and the way out of the relationship and there are any number of ways and means, Some of those are brutal too and some of them are effortless, depending on where you think energy comes from in the first place. I know it gets translated into all kinds of channels and holding tanks but... where did it come from before it got there? How come we can't bottle the lightning for use?
The Lord of Insufflation has granted me a visitation, so we'll be going in and out of things, in ways similar to going out of tune musically. It's not a rare event. It's nicht selten Auftreten for me to hear from a reader that they don't understand, or get what I am saying, or that they don't always agree with me. As for the latter, well, the size of the output needs to be considered (size matters-grin) in that case and as for the former... there are relative levels of apprehension and understanding that are what they are, to the particular degree that the material world interferes with the comprehension of the transmission and it's contents ...and... it should be kept in mind that the same applies to me in reversorama ordnung. There are all kinds of language assistive locations and helpmates that you can employ as we go. By way of explanation, I'm not a quick study, given the complexities of MPD. It can be like not knowing the differences between an anagram and an acronym. Meanwhile, I'm watching Love Actually, while I am writing this. I am probably watching it because it has such an abundance of some of my favorite actors. I've never seen a bad film with Bill Nighy in it. He reminds me of myself when my pretensions are authentic. And the film reminds me of my life in certain places; the possibilities, the occurrences and the absences. Life... life. It's about finding out things about yourself.
The whole point of the operation of life is finding things out about ourselves. I had to dance with a certain amount of ladies to tumble to what my love was really in search of. I remember reading H. Rider Haggard's, “She” when I was a young boy. I remember the explosion of love in my heart in a 7th grade classroom in Paris, France. I remember all kinds of things and also exemplify all kinds of things so... take what you find to be useful and discard what is not. This is just as you are supposed to do anywhere and everywhere and what happens here is directly relative to the degree of resonance you experience. No resonance? No problem. No need to be here.
How people can negotiate around the truth; go through such convoluted and cantilevered contortions to manage doing that, is something that blows my mind each and every day. How do they sidestep what is irrefutable and just go their, less than merry way? How do they do it? How do they make all these deals and compromises with their conscience? How do they build these vast websites that purport to tell you the truth when they know they are lying? How do they tell part of the truth and then bring out the men in black t-shirts with the big mouth shovels to load up the horseshit. How do investigative journalists allow themselves to be called that when they walk right around enormous and monstrous lies that are venerated and worshiped as actualities that either never happened or didn't happen the way they all lockstep say it happened. They have built mausoleums and museums and churches to provably, flat out fucking lies.
You see these venerated newscasters, these august eminences go on TV and give you the news that the corporations manufactured for you to believe in. You go on the internet and you listen to people who present themselves as truthtellers who lie to your face. You know there's something off with all this shit from Anderson Cooper to Robert Fisk. You know Alex Jones works for the people he bullhorns you into believing he opposes. There is a slim and slender cadre of people who put it out on the table for you to see and they are marginalized; slandered, setup in phony crime scenes, imprisoned, murdered or otherwise by whatever the laws of Karma allow in each case.
Let us look at the world as a kind of imaginary lake. Let us keep in mind the swan that can suck only the milk from a mixture of milk and water. Let us imagine that this lake has variable degrees of toxicity and purity. Invisible barriers keep one degree of water from touching another. Think of it like a honeycomb, or some carrousel like device (weird, I thought I was riding a Harley just a moment ago and somehow the keyboard was the handlebars. It was a little freaky. I'm not a bike rider most of the time. I'm a walker). Yes, we do closed cap-shuns here. People imbibe what they develop a taste for. Therein lies the cornucopia of gold for the corporations. Corporations study people's tastes for... any and everything in conjunction with their primary concern. Oh, let's not be shy. They now manufacture products to alter and adjust the tastes (buds) of every dimension, for the consumer. The ideal corporate life form, is one that will work with relentless industry under the most cost effective circumstances and either die off when its usefulness is gone, or continue to contribute by carefully measured degrees of effectiveness until the time comes for it to be chop-shopped and then recycled into any number of useful industries. Certainly fertilizer is a consideration and ye hermeticists and alchemists, pay thee attention to the feature of fertilizer's use in the construction of explosives. I'm not going to make mention of constructing something and sticking it up your ass because Youtube has plenty videos of Darwin Award candidates in action. I'm simply talking about paying attention and hopefully alleviating you of some of your unnecessary baggage, acquired according to where you are in this imaginary lake of the moment.
What you perceive and what you are aware of; what you are willing to perceive and willing to be aware of, is determined by where you are on this imaginary lake. Are you on a big yacht? Your waters are more toxic and your filtration systems more complex. Now it is probably time to talk about the living waters of the truth. You see, the truth confers immortality upon it's rider. If you carry the truth, you are a horse. If you carry shit, if you carry lies, you carry your own darkness. If you skirt around the truth, the truth will put a skirt on you and make you it's bitch, by example of what it is not. If you walk around the smoldering lies, awaiting their date of combustion, you have a date with fire of some degree, determined by the quality of the water you are drinking from the imaginary lake.
My friends, it puzzles the living fuck out of me how people make arrangements within themselves to compromise their integrity by kowtowing and genuflecting to the ruling elite shitmeisters, who are, less than favorably over-represented by a certain Tribe but... among whose members are the literal scum of the Earth; metaphorically speaking AND keeping in mind that the killer kind are not exclusively any particular tribe because there are forms of conversion and circumcision available at all times; trading rings, connubial engagements, flashing wads of dollars on blankets, near the stage. Yeah, you're in the game. I actually saw this at the 20th Anniversary of Woodstock, where I performed, before Ritchie Havens went on and seeing that a massive fight had broken out in the middle of the crowd, I put down my guitar and did an accapela of my song, Alcohol. As soon as I wailed out 'alcohol', the fight stopped. When I was done, I just walked offstage and I saw a congregation of about a dozen guys, kneeling around a blanket and showing their cash. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. It was some kind of 'my dicks bigger than your dick thing, only it was about money and money doesn't get me hard, maybe because I am not concerned about how impressive my dick is, or maybe because I am an impressive dick and yeah, they were all genus simularius. Anyway, I just walked away. All through the night you could hear someone yelling, 'alcohol'.
I personally went into the woods and took down about twenty pine trees around 30 feet in length and worked with this guy Luke, who had a tarp, something like 80 feet by 40 feet, to put up a canopy above us. This was a few days before I performed. One night I had to drive however many winding miles back to my place in Woodstock, cause Woodstock isn't Woodstock. The town and the festival are different places. I came back and a storm had hit and brought down half of the canopy and part of that crushed part of the support structure of my tent beneath it and everybody was standing around in my ten by ten, half collapsed tent during a downpour swilling beer. I freaked a bit and sent everyone on their way. A few hours later everything was repaired again. The moral of the story is that some people just talk a whole lot of shit and some people get things done. Some portion of us, it seems, carries another portion of us on our backs. The super rich like to make that claim with their trickle down golden shower; way I see it, something else is carrying every one of us, somewhere, according to some intention and design.
Yes Love Actually is filled with impossible scenarios and it gets too cute on occasion but actual Love is also filled with impossible (seeming) scenarios, I don't know if real love is too cute all I know is that it exists and can be possessed by human beings, or rather, human beings can be possessed by it but there's a disclaimer, non performance caveat, in the contract of real love and that is that real love will not dwell where the truth does not abide; something to think about.
About this song (pops up)
No radio show tonight but I will get it off to James on the morrow, so, sooner rather than later.