You'll Never Want to Leave the Theatre...

Psyched Up For 2017

Buddhist bare-knuckle fighting.

Under the Mistletoe...

...I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside...

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, FROM WILLIAM AND HIS ADOLESCENT CRUSH #6, TRENT REZNOR!

Quotidian

So it's Winter in a remote rural area. I have little money, and as I've mentioned there are few opportunites for employment... So what do I do with myself besides firewood, housecleaning and cooking? Well, I'm brushing up on my Spanish- and Japanese-language skills, learning smatterings of Arabic and Chinese, and finding success in maths with this series from LearningExpress.

I'm finding the learning process smoother and much more enjoyable than I did during high school...

William Way/Hollow Man Christmas Campaign

Perfidia

William Way/Hollow Man Christmas Campaign

Ships In The Night...

Was that my friend who came so close, but did not quite meet me? I don't know her name -- she is younger than I, has dark hair, is very open, has a degenerative disease like MS or CP maybe (some sort of disability), and we are destined to be together...

I am happy that she is out there, but my heart lows with a deep, broad sorrow and a sick longing. When will we meet? This life is so short...  I'll try my best to see her someday soon...

(Mushrooms, December 2016)

William Way/Hollow Man Christmas Campaign
*For only $100 -- So far, Stephanie H. has gotten me a quarter of the way there...Thanks, Stephanie!

おはようございます...

William Way/Hollow Man Christmas Campaign

Drop The Meth, General Zod...

Life changes:  tweeting, driving, using firearms, learning self-defense, eradicating my personal debt, and saving money...

William Way/Hollow Man Christmas Campaign

Hard Candy Christmas

Happy Holidays, Planet Earth!  Just a little ticky-tacky ask for the holidays.  Your help would mean so much...

At the Window...

Save Us, President von Munchausen!

I'm pretty sure that nothing can save (as it wants to be saved) today's military-industrial complex, which by the way has become the very abomination Eisenhower warned us about -- many of the up-and-coming young turks of "The Community" are keenly aware of this, even as old-guard factions grasp at straws or are in denial...  (And of course, the latter -- poor saps, how my heart kind of goes out to them, though I stand for so much that they typically hate -- would expect much from a presidency that basically jack-knifed coming out of the gate.)

"Forest and Contrail," November 2016

Beautiful Location, Rather Wooden Romance...

Sorrow

Thankful...

...For those who came before...

...As well as for those who are presently in my life...  And I am most of all thankful for the promise I see in those who shall carry on after we are gone...

ॐ

As many of us in the loyal opposition continue to petition the DOJ to audit the 2016 vote, and others disrupt and protest...  My advice to President-elect Donald J. Trump comes from Marcus Aurelius, and it is this:  "Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be -- be one."

Special and Hearts

"Do you love miracles?"

"You can play me for a fool my whole life and I'll never get the point. You bet, I love miracles.

"But you know, a heart of glass is a damn shame to break. And once you break it, you could possibly spend a million years making up for that, over and over again, and never quite get there... "

"Well, Bill, I have the number for a glass blower.  And fudge."

"Psychic, new friend!  You know I was a Divinity Major who minored in fudgepacking..."

Holding hands, they walked together towards the horizon, knowing they would be friends forever, long after they parted, even after death...

Collected

Mashallah

Word of the day in Arabic: صَديق (sadiq) -- "friend."

Orphaned Poem #2

Remus and Retards

Dull clank, crockery
I stack on the shelf,
glass lid upside-down on its Corningware

As I catch sight
through the streaked window
of a flock, a loosening knot:

Blackbirds starting towards the gray, fading West --
some unholy Roman omen,
too good for Etruscans at rest.

Oh Bother, Dear Eeyore

Could it be that once again someone has fouled the mood with poor timing?  I'll console them as best I can if alive and capable -- definitely my bailiwick, that scene...  Be so kind as to get down to it, and I'll resolve to be a lamb and die like a fright...

Mendocino National Forest, October 2016

Matt Lucas Must Die

TOM BAKER NARRATING (I AM A LAZY CALIFORNIAN):  "...After all, mustn't we each of us in his turn find doom, and, mayhap, that which lies beyond...?"

[THE KITCHEN OF A FLAT AT 23 FITZROY ROAD.  MR. LUCAS TENTATIVELY ENTERS, AND COMES TO STAND ABOVE A WOMAN'S MODESTLY ATTIRED BUTTOCKS.]

MR. LUCAS:  "Um, Sylvia dear, I don't know how American ovens work, but I daresay you'd know by now whether or not the pilot light is out....  Sylvia?  I can tell there's more going on here.  We've all noticed that something's been amiss with you for quite some time...  Sylvia?  Please talk to me...  Fine!  Have it your way!  God, you are self-involved, though...  Honestly, girl...  Anyway, where are the children?"

[MR. LUCAS EXITS AS HE ENTERED...]

"Don't You Know Who I Am?"

MY NAME IS PEACHES, MOTHERFUCKER!

What? I've Been Known To Get On A Soap Box When My Butt Is Hungry...

Porn models do not deserve to be treated as though they are inadequate adult children, and in the real, messy world we all have to survive, they have enough people and forces pushing them around -- making decisions for them, and undermining their liberties. The more empowerment and encouragement in their autonomy they can get from the rest of us, the better -- and I'm not even a pornography viewer, m'kay?

Swarm

As the sun sets and the sky darkens, I cannot but reflect that this at first seemingly mundane day has nevertheless been one of signs. Upon arriving home I was swarmed by beautiful wasps every time I went outside. Scores of them. They followed me no matter where I went, drowsily, and as curious as ladies in waiting (I was keenly aware of their presence at every moment, of course -- echoes of that old childhood phobia, and that somatic memory of the pain induced by a sting...) Something is on its way -- isn't it? -- something new for all of us that we'll need all of what we have come from to meet... I suppose at least a few of us know we'll have no excuses should circumstances apparently demand them of us...

ATTN: Dorks, Losers, Malcontents, Ne'er-do-wells, Burnouts, Killers, Assholes, Et Alia...

FYI this handy, go-to book can be found in virtually every California public library (at the very least, in the reference section, meaning you have to use it there.)

My best to the quiet ones -- salaam.

MAKE AMERICA DO IT AGAIN!

* WHO * DARKO *

2016

Mr. Matt Lucas's Worst Nightmare

Somewhere above the Atlantic, on Virgin Flight 69...

MR. LUCAS: "Pardon me -- stewardess? I say, stewardess!"
FLIGHT ATTENDANT: "What can I do for you, Mr. Lucas?"
MATT LUCAS [licks lips nervously]: "May I please order the Mile High Club and a Diet Coke?"
FLIGHT ATTENDANT [chuckles cruelly]: "Sure, but I should warn you: the turkey's a little dry..."

Angels

Nothing clever to write.  Still alive, and still listening.  The sorrow is a bottomless well, and the drugs aren't exactly perfect...

This Shit Is Bananas

Shabu Madness II: Thrillah in Manila

I know I risk sounding like some Cebu Sally on her bomb-bearing moped, but...

Dear Philippines:  I have this hunch -- yes, just a hunch -- that instituting pogrom against people who use drugs (and let's face it:  isn't it always just against 'certain' people who use drugs?  But I digress...) is not going to turn out well for anybody.  Moreover, the least you could have done was run this policy proposal by, say, any archbishop.  Or fuck, even a nun...

(Also, could somebody please remind Duterte that Hitler was one of the most massive tweakers in history, slamming five times a day.  And in point of fact, his evil life did end due to Allies bombing his bunker -- no, smart-asses, not because his high was too good...)

Mr. President, you have no alibi!

Aviso

"Anything can become excusable when seen from the standpoint of the result." - 三島 由紀夫 / Mishima Yukio

Bored of Games

Let's face this one right out of the gate:  MONOPOLY is a fucking evil game that brings out the worst in everybody, making all the players mean and nasty -- even yours truly.

OPERATION was a ratfuck, and immediately gave me away...

I wanted to like CANDYLAND, until it just had to teach me a lesson, and became CHUTES AND LADDERS, with more chutes than ladders, and was ultimately a contrived study in diminishing returns.

Don't get me started on BATTLESHIP, an invitation to cheating and unseaworthy shenanigans.

And lastly, I completely lost it with CLUE as soon as I realized that the only redeeming character (who also happened to be the only one not deserving of prosecution and, yes, death) was none other than -- ready for it, players? -- Chilly Willy, on the front porch, with a .3 shot of peanut butter.

Games have their place in life, but life cannot be contained by games.  Why, look at the game of LIFE: like Anya Jenkins, I had a hard time swallowing the notion that children could not be exchanged for money -- so unrealistic!

Obvious, isn't it, that too many of us have for a long time now been weary of games we once fancied...

First Rule of Marla's Club

Never cross state lines with a miner.



via GIPHY

Today, Consider...

...White Taras and Dakinis attended to by a flock of vultures...

Oh My Goodness

via GIPHY

Orphaned Poem #1

	AMAZON Hot Flanks, majordomo of none other than famed Hippolyta Endures the hostile, playful jab of an Argive spear. Find among the men one who fears pain, and mock his wound. The sun sets red in the West too soon.

Rock-a-Bye Baby

"Arjuna Said..."

From "The Song Divine"

Eureka!

Whirley Bird!

God is great, and thank you everybody just for being.  The cycle of life and death continues (bye, Michael; hello, Dorothy Anne!), but the rest of us are still here -- we keep on trucking.

Keeping it real while the realness keeps me, and getting back up whenever I trip and fall.  Dig it, dignity-bashers!

"Do what you feel in your heart to be right, for you'll be criticized anyway." - Eleanor Roosevelt (...and keep on the lookout for that constructive criticism -- nay-saying followed by a helpful hint or starting-again point. It's out there!)

Mom's Mums, September 2016

Sia - The Greatest

I've got stamina.

Hey!

DAMN, CRACKER, WATCHUDOIN' TWEAKIN ALL THE TIME?

Because I Got High...

Any enterprising, vicious attorney out there who might think of styling himself or herself the antonym of San Francisco's Jonathan Bornstein? Now that things are getting more straightened out in my life, I'm looking back and seeing the need for a sort of reckoning on my behalf. Not just getting that eviction off of my record to ease my way into new housing when my name gets drawn in the next few months, but I'm talking a possible palms-up, full-on litigious retaliation: harassment, discrimination, defamation of character, emotional damages, theft, assault, and wrongful eviction for starters... Really looking into TNDC's horrible behavior towards me, especially during my last year at the Alexander. Justice!  (E-mail william.robert.way@gmail.com if you've got a good lead...)

Frank

I imagine sometime about 40 years ago, an odd little Indian boy, with a pageboy haircut, climbed a tree as high as he could.  He settled on a branch, and tried to play with the children below:  "I win!  I win!  I win!"  he would flatly cry in his little, neutral voice, but no one would pay him attention.  I can see his face now, looking hurt in its own way, backlit by the sun...

Yes, Frank used to do weird, magical, crazy shit to me that to this day I'm still recovering from.  But I can't help but suspect I'm the only one who felt any compassion for him.  Terrifying things have occurred to Frank, and the world has not been nice.  His health has suffered in recent years, and as of this writing, I'm not even sure:  it is distinctly possible he may no longer even be alive.

Many have grown to hate him, but not me.  My heart still beats for Frank, King of the World, and I hope to see him again in this life...

A Prayer and Cry For Heather Ratto...

...(formerly of Lodoga, California, and as of some years ago, Paso Robles -- ahora donde no se...)  Hope you're still alive and well, young woman, and my heart continues to beat for you.  Bless you and God carry you always.

Three Jewels

बुद्धं सरणं गच्छामि।
दम्मं सरणं गच्छामि।
सङ्घं सरणं गच्छामि।

Shine On

It gets scary, it can seem to crush everything you are -- even threaten to kill you.  But all shall work out for the best.  Heaven never isn't a time and place on Earth.  You will always become who you knew you could be...

ALARM!!!!

Big, bad, SOS news -- I'm kind of sure.  A certain young woman on Facebook, whom I recently added as a friend when she requested I be that, just had her account suspended by the Feds.  Truth is, she's Celeste Guap's friend.  Young Celeste has been in trouble lately, and has been making herself vulnerable by coping with getting high and getting tight.  Bad scene.  Somebody please help Ms. Guap and her friend.

(FULL DISCLOSURE:  Yes, Ms. Guap worked as a prostitute, and was quite a story in the news, recently.  God keep these girls safe.  God help us all should we fail them.

Hey! That Homeless Marine Just Alger Hissed At Me!

Goddammit.  Maybe I'm personalizing something because I'm gakked.  Or maybe there's enough ire to go around -- enough guff even for friendly fire victims like me, who are faking it.  Or maybe it's just his time of the month.

(LAURA C.:  God, not another stupid American period joke.  Gracie Allen is spinning in her grave!)

American Woman, Mama Let Me Be

TRUMP SUPPORTERS BE ALL LIKE:  "What is Hillary hiding?!? [huff]"

AND CLINTON SUPPORTERS BE ALL LIKE:  "Not her dewlap, girl, okay! [sissy snap]"

...Anyway, darling, how are you doing your hair today?  Because I can't stand you at all...  [BREXIT STAGE ON GURNEY]

It's Boo-KAY!

Overheard During Gay Group at Passages in Malibu

"Okay girl?  I mean, I had no choice but to stop partying when every fucking time I was on one, the hills had eyes, and those eyes were wearing liquid eyeliner.  And on top of that, they were gloating because I couldn't get any..."

BREAKING (My Political Hymen)

LEWINSKY REFUSES TO ENDORSE CLINTON

Monica Lewinsky released the following statement on Hillary Clinton's run for President:

"I will not vote for Hillary Clinton.  The last Clinton Presidency left a bad taste in my mouth.  As we get closer to November of this election year, citizens must remember that they cannot trust Hillary Clinton on jobs.  The last time she had a meaningful job, she outsourced it to me, and I blew it."

Spark It Up!

(Well, I guess it's better than: "Your teen comes home smelling like semen, and the voices in your head tell you he's on meth. Now what? MYBRATISBOGARTINGPARTYFAVORSSMIRK.ORG...")

Um, WhatEVER, Nicky Parsons...

Well, Yeah, I Have A Good Idea of Who Hates Me and Why...

Yes, Had I Been More Circumspect...

...Not only would I have worn asbestos to the flame war with Charlie from FIRESTARTER, I also would have made sure everyone else who could have possibly been involved was protected by similar to avoid the collateral damage that has recently tried to hide itself from me.  In any event, I thank one friend for giving me the credit to know that even though I might annoyingly and wrongly blame myself for what the bad guys did to him, I would soon smarten up before any such wrongthink did further damage.

Taking some time to nurse my psychic wounds, for which not even I have pity, and I hope no one else has pity for them either...

If I Were A Rich Man...

...I would broach the subject of underwriting the construction of a new wing at San Francisco General Hospital.  It would be devoted to patients who suffer from problems that at first blush seem perfectly pedestrian but for some reason or another when those particular patients in their individual cases have those problems, they happen to piss most everyone else off, and no one can adequately explain why.

PSA

No, seriously, I'm never doing methamphetamine again.  It's just as they said, a gateway drug, leading to harder things, like erections.

(And I had no idea Nestlé owns Wonka.  No wonder I never won a golden ticket.  It's a conspiracy!)

(Thanks, Tina Fey...)

Ancient

Antikythera.

Apropos of Brexit... (Blech. Sit.)

Fee fie FOE fumble...

(My favorite part, of course, is when the party that fell flat on its face then pops up with a triumphant TA-DA!!!)

人怕出名猪怕肥

...If that helps explain anything to some of you still solving a years-long mystery vis-a-vis yours truly (no shame in that, rest assured.)  And by the way:  "I can handle reality in small doses, but as a lifestyle, it's much too confining." - Lily Tomlin

Happy Pride, Everybody!

Just remember to take your Truvada or wear a condom, or both.  And no, bitch, that's not Wayland and Madame you hear coming down from the roof of Beck's Motor Lodge to your room for six hours straight -- it's all in your head, so chill!

So, Like, Yah, Fer Sure, Right?

"Oh, definitely, Frau Wiegler!  At times it seemed like an absolutely boffo idea to work over a 37 year-old white and Native American gay man who attends services at a Jodo Shin Buddhist temple -- who, moreover, has lived since birth in Northern California and exhibits such a reaction to programming -- and radicalize him to the point that he goes on a killing spree at a soft target like an emergency room, or who at the very least could be spun as a palatable patsy for the press as the perpetrator in a sting operation transparently engineered by the FBI; (the latter of course would be cast as heroes who prevented an attack on a hard target.)

"Not that I would have known which outcome would have been most satisfactory, of course.  You know your business better than I do.  Still, I'm nothing if not a patriot, and therefore could have been bought off.  And you were partially correct:  even with my IQ, I wholeheartedly agree that I suffer at times from the most abject stupidity.  Yet to this day I wonder why such a shoddy effort was made to gull me, and why circumventing my right to consent was apparently perpetrated by puling amateurs.  I mean, really...  Who was meant to be the target of insults in all of this?  The target, or those who for years had a bead on him a mile wide?"

Hospitality Is Sin; Lust Is Virtue; Falsehood Is Pious

Come as you are, as you were

As I want you to be

As a friend, as a friend

As an old enemy

Take your time, hurry up

Choice is yours, don't be late

Take a rest as a friend

As an old

Memoria, memoria

Memoria, memoria

Come doused in mud, soaked in bleach

As I want you to be

As a trend, as a friend

As an old

Memoria, memoria

Memoria, memoria

When I swear that I don't have a gun

No I don't have a gun

No I don't have a gun

Memoria, memoria

Memoria, memoria

(And I don't have a gun)

When I swear that I don't have a gun

No I don't have a gun

No I don't have a gun

No I don't have a gun

No I don't have a gun

- Kurt Cobain

Now I May Not Be Some Uppity, Assassinated Venezuelan Beauty Queen...

...But I dare let slip this audacious gobbet of Morgan Freeman-magnitude speechifyin':

Give a man a fish, and he'll have fish for a day.  Teach him how to fish, and chances are he'll be more polite to you than you deserve -- he probably already knew how to fish, and fish better.  Nevertheless, he was raised with different, more human, more realistic, more pragmatic values.  But don't be too put off if he seems to ignore you altogether; you might be presuming to try to do him a favor right at the moment he's thinking it a higher priority to jump food lines with other looters because, hey, let's face it, the world is a little more complex than you first thought.

#Venezuela #yotambiénsoyhumano #tengosed #tengohambre #tengomiedo

Reminisce On The Love We Shared...

Dreadful, deeply unfunny joke within a joke ad infinitum:  Condoleeza Rice was Secretary of State; her main claims to fame were that she was a Sovietologist in a post-Soviet world, as well as a conservative black woman possessed of a damn regrettable 'do.  America went to war in Afghanistan anyway, precipitously and forgetful of the Russian example there.

Great moments in history, which should always terrify considering history's inescapable grip on our lives and the world we aim to live in.

Fall In!

"How do we change the world? One random act of kindness at a time." - Morgan Freeman

To all those demented, delusional, out-to-lunch fruitcakes who advocate for the deportation and exclusion of Muslims, here's a glimpse at the real world we all have no choice but to inhabit as best we can:  Last month, I was in San Francisco, walking along McAllister towards Jones.  Before me, against the South wall of the California Check Cashing branch, across from the neoclassical Hibernia Bank, bearing in English a written request for assistance was a beautiful young woman in chador, tasteful dress, and flawless, minimal make-up.  Beside her was her quiet young daughter.  Obviously, she was a recent arrival -- judging from her features, mos def a Syrian refugee who had received approval from the nearby, mostly Yemeni mosque, local upright citizens brigade, and other Tenderloin powers-that-really-be to work that corner for a shift.  As soon as a passing OG who was walking his bicycle had passed her a buck with a word of blessing and moved on, I in turn grabbed the loose bills that were change from my lunch (probably $12 or $14) out of my pocket, and handed them to the young lovely with a demotic "Salaam alaykum."  She took them, and responded demurely and heartbreakingly, "Shukraan."  And with that I carried on to rush through my errands on that day trip to the city.

All of this took but a minute or so:  That's reality, asshats.  That is why when it comes to what matters, what we cannot avoid indefinitely -- that is why our side will always win.  The rest of you Trump-ettes and shit stain bigots can just eat it.  You're lucky if you're even privileged enough to this (or are someone I agree with - hi fans, freaks, friends, and fellow fools)...

No Justice, Just Us

Doing my itty-bitty part to help raise awareness, and to try and point out some possibilities for helping fight the good fight:

http://www.orangecountyfl.net/FamiliesHealthSocialSvcs/VeteransServices.aspx#.V18notQrJxA (the services to which they refer clients could probably always use mention or donations...)
http://www.shelterlistings.org/city/orlando-fl.html
http://www.foodpantries.org/ci/fl-orlando
www.thecenterorlando.org

While we continue to abide and continue to be appalled at our government's and law enforcement's response to gun violence and hate crimes, and while we continue to blog, protest, hold vigils, write letters to the editor, and so on, we have above (for starters) real, immediately achievable opportunities to put an answer to atrocities like what happened in Orlando, Florida.  The links in this post are listings or connections to services that can always use volunteers, money, in-kind donations, or simple promotion; doing such sends a clear message that love is always more powerful than hate.  Even $10 to a food pantry or a gift of children's clothing to a shelter for homeless families can make all the difference in the world to promoting the causes of love for one another and social justice.

Help Orlando, and help us all.

Pulse

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and souls deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better than thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, Death, thou shalt die.

- John Donne

"Describe Yourself For The Cameras..."

Victim with a twist.  Precious trash.  Sugar and spice and puppy dog tails.  Nature Boy in Dexter's Laboratory.  Giving him something he can feel.  Open-ended Omega Point.  Offensively innocuous.  Beside the point and the center of attention.

Wisdom

"Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter.
If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life."

―Wu Men, translated by Stephen Mitchell

Lest Anyone Get The Wrong Idea About My Positive Attitude...

"You are never strong enough that you don't need help." - Cesar Chavez

Suburban Three Day Weekend

"Baby, I'm home."

"I'm in the kitchen."

He throws his jacket and laptop bag on the couch.  "You pick up that teen?  I need to get high."

"You know it.  Stuff's in the stash next to the hash.  Bubble's on the coffee table.  It's a bit floral, but not bug-spray."

He casually fidgets through his pockets for a pick.  She always prefers butane, but he's convinced a Bic wielded correctly makes the dope last longer.

"What's it like?  Dick-in-the-dirt?  We gonna be fucking for hours?"

"Maybe for a bit.  Kind of a Harriet the Spy high, for me.  Try it.  You might want to do some blogging on media analysis, or let off some indignant steam for the way they're always doing that sweet gay kid over in California..."

He vaporizes a few hits, then kicks back...

Kami

The many deities of Japan.

Max Planck Florida Institute for Neuroscience

Call for nominations for the Peter Gruss Young Investigator Award!

The award is given biennially to recognize a young neuroscience investigator for significant contributions to the scientific community through collaboration, creativity, and curiosity-driven research.

"And That. Is The Night. The Lights Went Out. In GEORGIA!"

So a lot of people heard all my Sugarbaker-woman speechifyin'?

"Belief system"? Really?

How convoluted, how Rube Goldbergian, how matrix-like.  Rather, what about a string of convictions? That sounds so much prettier, like a string of pearls -- a lovely, pearl necklace.  Aw.

One of the Last of the Black Hats

Um, tangentially and apparently, Ed, when you hide from the world you miss a few things. Did you know there is a nationwide judge shortage? It takes about a year for a criminal case to see the inside of a courtroom for trial, and about three years for a civil case. I mean -- God! -- I am a drug-addicted loser who lives in the middle of nowhere with his mom, and even I know what's going on... (By the way, adding to stressors for the too few people on the bench, you're increasing the chances that yet more judges might resign. Smooth move, Ex-Lax.)

And from Tim:  "Essentially, Ed Lee blamed 'those liberal judges' for letting super-preadators (ahem) off the hook and back into 'our communities.' By arguing for mob rule in courthouses -- where pitchfork-carrying rural folk (William! Pay attention!) can pressure the judge to rule the way 'people's justice oughta' -- he's entered Trumpland."

Nature Boy

There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he

And then one day
A magic day he passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me
The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return

The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return

- Nat King Cole

Here's A Tip

I would encourage the younger guys -- guys who served in Afghanistan and Iraq -- to watch FIRST BLOOD (1982).  Excellent movie for them.

(See?  Huh?  That'll teach you to be homeless and a veteran...)

Brief Hiatus

A quick, several-day retreat to ask a Gardnerian coven of labrys-wielding lesbians in Mendocino to cast a prosperity spell for yours truly...

America, 2016

The nerve...

The Hollow Man's Advice Column: "On Professionalism"

Q.  "Is it acceptable to use the term 'reach out' in the workplace?"

A.  It is only if you're a member of The Four Tops.  Otherwise, absolutely not.

She'll Always Be Wearing A Raspberry Beret...

"Only way to get to where you've never been is to party like you ain't gonna party again." - Prince

So Far, We've Apparently Moved On To New Things...

Great news, everybody:  I will no longer be reprising my lead in Miss Tina Productions' FIELD OF SCREAMS ([STAGY, PSYCHOSIS-LIKE VOICEOVER WHISPER]: "If you shoot him, they will come...")

Let the future begin...

Peripheral Stupidity Agency II

I really don't have the patience to sit here and listen to what you think are your image problems.  I mean, you guys have had decades to perfect the racy, scintillating art of perception management.  But here's the thing:  you get too much into that, and you start to look like a whore...

Peripheral Stupidity Agency

How do you keep America safe when American civilians en masse can get the drop on you in the long game?  (And won't it be humiliating when you find out just what happened...?)

Viva la Revolucion!

"I believe that the moment is near when by a procedure of active paranoiac thought, it will be possible to systematize confusion and contribute to the total discrediting of the world of reality." -Salvador Dalí

Program

My latest foray into exploring program while partying (and therefore mixing business with pleasure) was reminiscent of Britt Ekland in WICKER MAN, flopping against the wall naked in some sort of sexy, sinister pagan rite.  Still no luck getting to those gunman on the other side, though.  Maybe I was too obviously manipulative...

This Probably Hurts Coming From Me, But When Hasn't It?

Fringe?  Paranoid?  A seemingly schizo delusion?  Too many episodes of the X-Files?  Perhaps.  But would it be surprising if true?  I mean, this is the same agency that attempted mind control experiments on U.S. civilians culminating in the defenestration of some poor soul who was tripping on LSD in the 60s, much to the chagrin and schadenfreude of the hippies.  Can you really put anything past them?  Even if this Disclose.tv story is so much conspiracy theorist confabulation, utterly bunk in it's details, my familiarity with history compels me to explore what could be a kernel of truth in many people's ideas of what the government may plausibly be up to...

It jibes with what we know of the mindset of certain subcultures within the intelligence community.  Of course, most people when considering a secret time travel program the CIA might attempt to implement, they'll assume the worst:  weaponization, overreach, unethical applications, et cetera.  But even if their intentions are benign, it's still somewhat sad and pathetic.  (When will the intelligence community and the military-industrial complex ever come to terms with the inarguable fact that every concrete application of scientific exploration and research inevitably improves and diminishes the human condition at the same time, and that scientific visionaries are not resources to be exploited by those whose intelligence is inferior, and whose responsibilities do not really exceed national security and petty scheming, no matter how large the scale of that scheming?  But I digress...)  Humanity isn't at its best when impotently yearning for what it cannot but misremember, and for what never was as we think today it used to be, or when it spins its wheels fantasizing about what could have been and what ought to be yet isn't.

Who among us hasn't at times longed to go back and choose differently if we could only have known then what we know now?  Even I have (I hope harmlessly) frittered away time in such a way in my youth.  But the hours and energy spent doing so in my humble opinion would be better and more effectively harnessed in pursuit of making whatever use of what we can remember and do no more than remember about the past for the sake of what could be the optimal future an accurate assessment of now can help us work towards.  If life hands you lemons, is it really worthwhile to strive for some pie-in-the-sky plan to go back in time and refuse them in favor of some unknowable options (while, as such scenarios inevitably have it, ignoring the law of unintended consequences), or do we just make lemonade in the here and now?

As I understand it, there are as often put forth by physicists (with plenty of heated argument) three theoretical ways in which time travel could be accomplished, but I see no point in exploring them or possible scenarios in which they could be realized.  The power in going back in order to choose differently is an illusion, a mirage, a pipe dream.  The real, attainable power, mastered by so many individuals every day around the world, lies in coming to terms with what is so as to arrive at what we hope can be and what ought to be -- what cannot but be.  But of course, this wouldn't be the first time humanity, particularly the federal government, has wasted untold millions or billions, has taken so much time -- years -- that could be better spent, and crushed its own feelings and others' lives, to attempt and predictably fail, when it could have much more cheaply and quickly simply practiced acceptance.

Oh, well.  If the poor timing and outlandish expenditures are good enough for government work...

"The past is a place of reference, not of residence." - Willie Jolley

"What a blessing it is not to know the future." - Me

Mysteries, Peeves, and Lost Opportunities

I come from a tradition, the rules of which include:  hydrate or die, sleep is not the enemy, eat or else, you can always add to but never take away from, they can't really hurt you, and pull it together when others are falling out.  Over the last few decades, I've done pretty well at observing said rules, and they've saved my life and my sanity.  Still, my origins mean I've had occasional run-ins I've thought are too bad with those (particularly medical professionals and cops) whose rules include catch, hold and release; partition (fences make good neighbors); and never let on that you hear voices.  An unfortunate friction, and a gap I've always wished I could bridge...  Ah, tristesse!

P.S.  I admit I've always felt a bit of resentment that neither the DEA, SFPD's vice division, nor other authorities inclined towards shitty, immature behavior ever created false profiles for yours truly on methy hook-up sites for the sake of defamation.  I really could have used a little edge to my goody two-shoes reputation.  Where's the love, guys?

P.P.S.  I never did figure out the point of all those pocket lasers and wide-angle, telescopic shots.  Why are you waiting for me to be ready for my close-up?

P.P.P.S.  I never did follow up on precisely what emerged when Frankie and company worked me over in order to open the gates of hell a few years back.  Let's hope it was nothing more than an exhausted Virgil towing Dante and Beatrix to an ice cream shop downtown.

P.P.P.S.  Hey Naomi, sorry about the ROSEMARY'S BABY joke.  One shouldn't make that reference to pregnant tweakers.

P.P.P.P.S.  Overall, I've got to say my verdict at this point is, "Awful program, Frankie:  nobody likes to look at splatter."

I Asked Someone For Spare Change and Was Told To Get a Job

Thank God at least one of us was using his brain.  No wonder he's where he's at and I'm where I'm at...

"It’s called Housing First, because 'You have to have a home first. It’s pretty hard to solve your personal problems when you’re living under a park bench.'"

(I can't believe this approach is revolutionary, and yet of course it is.  All these degrading and mortifying programs that society persists in implementing from San Francisco to New York, programs modeled on first "fixing" what's wrong with people, and that people in need must be forced to change their maladaptive, undesirable behavior before they've earned the privilege of housing -- a mindset many unthinkingly share and assume we should all just go along with -- these programs have always put the cart before the horse, and in addition are highly ineffective and counterproductive.  An imperfect socioeconomic system, economic inequality, and institutionalized prejudice and injustice are the main root causes of poverty.  It is pointless and monstrous to blame poor choices made by the poor.  Paternalizing, uninformed and arrogant meddling, and human inertia among those in a position to render aid cannot continue.  And by the way, homelessness is the problem of those who are homeless but would rather not be -- it is not the problem of people whose ill-considered aesthetics, inexcusably fragile sensibilities, and inability to cope with reality are offended insofar as they perceive and are aware of the homeless; the latter group has real problems that are best addressed by swift kicks in the ass.)

A Blow To Tweaker Pride

What shame!  What ignominy!  I'm not sure I can ever show my face in public or private or among hallucinated voices ever again...  There I was, so haughty and full of myself, exultant in my victory, thinking the whole time during production that I alone had been cast as the lead in the exciting, groundbreaking DARBY O'GILL AND THE LITTLE PEOPLE II:  METHPOCALYPSE!, when in fact, as I found out during the well-attended screening, that all along I was a bit player billed far down the credits as "Anonymous Terrified Hot Bitch From The 70s #5."  I was more mortified than if I had been Courtney Love turned down for the role of Nancy Spungeon, after she had seen her own lackluster acting thrown into sharp relief onscreen as a second banana she had originally esteemed herself as better than.   At least she still has her hubris, delusion, and self-righteous indignation, whereas I now find myself bereft of every comfort.

Oh, painful reality!  Oh humiliation!

Snap, I Just Now Figured It Out

After years of wondering why anyone would be angry at me for getting high on meth, I just realized how remiss I had been:  I was supposed to go out and meet my aspiring tormentors while wearing sackcloth and a beatific look on my face.  I completely failed them and myself, and I'm so ashamed.  Not only were they angry, they were probably also terribly sad and crestfallen.  I wonder if I can ever make it up to them...

It's really true what they say -- drugs will ruin your life.  They certainly put a kink or two in my planned martyrdom.  Sorry Opus Dei!  I'll do what I can to make amends...

Disillusionment and the Singles Scene

I would create a Tinder profile, but it seems my job title, "Apparent Victim With A Twist" isn't "hot," and won't get me laid.

(Of course, it's still better than the poorly paid -- except in awkward sex, regrettable drugs, showily patriotic lip service, and hollow thanks -- position of "Ex-Marine," right guys?)

Thank you, SFGate, for another display of journalistic ineptitude, the contents of which give me every reason to be appalled at humanity and the myriad ways it can fail itself...

"Why Are We Like This When You're On Drugs?"

The verdict:  Guilty by reason of faking insanity.

The sentence:  Spiritual death by humiliation and degradation.

(Ironically, it wasn't exactly a speedy trial.)

(Also, was I supposed to keep quiet because everyone else involved was ashamed of their behavior?  That is asking a bit much...)

So anyway, I'm wondering if it wouldn't have been better had my sheepish, inarticulate, and only tentatively righteously indignant accusers  just put a dunce cap on my head, placed me naked and backwards on the back of a donkey, herded me past distracted and baffled onlookers down Eddy Street, until I reached where today's American iteration of Savonarola and the weepers whined at me for a few hours about my culpability regarding their disgusting sins.  It definitely would have driven the point, if there was any, home.

And then I could go back to being a scheming, gold-digging hussy on the make for her next unintelligent psychopathic victim.

Yay San Francisco!

Six Flags Over Tragic Mountain

Admittance to my paracosm is free to the general public, but you must be at least *this* high to ride.

A Little More Realism Might Garner Support From Viewers Like Me

You know, if Sesame Street was really preparing kids for life in the real world, somebody would blow their lid at Big Bird for insisting that Snuffleupagus existed, becoming bent out of shape at his irritating delusions and hallucinations; Bert and Ernie would both have Grindr accounts and host all-night, drug-fueled orgies that would go hilariously sour; and Elmo would ruin his life in his addiction and end up at rock bottom getting kicked out of Oscar's garbage can, where he had been staying temporarily since his eviction by a greedy landlord.  Oh, and Maria's mysterious death outside of the Fix-It Shop would age into being a never-solved cold case -- I mean, who the hell has ever seen a cop form the Sesame Street Station even once just walk a beat, let alone make an arrest in a serious crime?

Come to think of it, I'd be afraid to even call 911 in the real Sesame Street.

Hi, Pot -- It's Me, Kettle

So some of us take it upon ourselves to think we know what's best for humanity, and act accordingly.  Some of us (yours truly, for one) naturally and from the get-go instinctively do know what's best for humanity, and find out in retrospect our actions were useful, and on the balance productive and helpful.

Yes, I've borne witness to events in San Francisco over the last few years that resulted from social engineering and mental control programs, the fulcrum of which rested on the intersection of the indigent, the mentally ill, addicts, and local law enforcement.  A fascinating if mostly sinister spectacle that so far seems to backfired in the engineers' faces -- gruesome and bitterly hilarious hijinks ensued and continue to unfold as of the writing of this post.

The would-be powers that be -- Illuminati, Annunaki, Bohemian Grove types, libertarian utopianists, nihilists with bones to pick, overreaching CIA world-shapers and king-makers, et alia -- might do well to consider my proposal.  Based on what we've all perpetrated and had to endure on the West Coast (echoes of which reverberate throughout the United States, the Philippines, and to a lesser extent, isolated manifestations in Canada, Mexico, and the rest of Latin America -- oh, for aid from the land of the Rising Sun!), might I suggest a refined reiteration of that large scale program (or constellation of programs) focusing on the communities of hedge fund managers and handbag designers in the greater Manhattan area?  It would be counterintuitively far less profligate, and at worst would cause little to no harm and provide reams of entertaining if still embarrassing data.

What say you, oh lords of reality?

(P.S.  Effusive apologies for terrifying Mr. Haros.  Of course, based on my initial assessment, I had no idea he was intelligent enough to be fearful of anything he should be fearful of.  How was I to know?  I guess I was just that unmistakable.  I can only promise to try to be more deceitful in the inexorable, unavoidable future we are all of us threatened by...Kisses!)

Well Slap Me And Call Me Philip K. Dick

I just had an idea for a story in which someone invents a drug to combat cold and flu symptoms that's also a somewhat addictive euphoric.  One of the side effects of the drug is that it reveals to everyone else in the world who the person on it is and that person's psychological and intellectual make-up.  The situation inspires certain people to torture, persecute and kill by proxy those on the drug who are intelligent and good, while leaving alone those elements on the drug who engage in antisocial, undesirable and criminal behavior so that the drug develops a bad reputation among those factions in society who would see it prohibited -- the prohibitionists of course also having the motive of wanting to enrich themselves via the systems that arrest, prosecute and incarcerate those who either purvey the drug or use it.

Everything's Gonna Be Okay

A lot of these news stories have made me sad.  There are a lot of my schizoaffective friends who need help.

But people die, and here we are left.  I'm sad, but I'm not deluded.

We fucked up and they fucked up.  What is it going to take to make this right?  I've got my methamphetamine in (Hitler slammed five times a day, and JFK and Marilyn Monroe both partied), but I don't know if that's gonna help.

God save us all...

Trash Man

The X-Files last night wasn't all that great, but I'll always have a soft spot for the adventures of Special Agents Mulder and Scully.  And the opening scenes were choice:  a monster who hunts and kills those who persecute, exploit and oppress the homeless?  Love it.  San Francisco's own Scott Wiener should watch it, and might be able to, if the hilarious tweaker who stole his phone didn't also make off with his TV and DVR...

Secrets Can Be Hard To Keep

And sometimes, when you feel good, don't you just want the whole world to know, so everyone can be happy for you?

So what we have is a situation in which we've established that telepathy is real, and yet people still get arrested, prosecuted and incarcerated for getting high.  That's so fucking retarded, I feel like kicking everyone's asses.

The Department of Homeland Security

Holy shit.  That guy was gorgeous.  He was chubby (which I like), he had cute dimples, a kind personality, a nice ass, and a pretty package (all I could think about when looking at him was taking his fat, sweet balls in my mouth and sucking that cute, thick bone.  He was so wonderful.)  Whoever you are, guy, I really appreciated you a lot.  I know you and your also handsome partner were down on your way to help with security at Super Bowl City, but I hope you come back this way and meet me.  You're a beautiful man, and I'd love to spend time with you.  You looked so good in your uniform, and you seem like a wonderful guy.  I love you, and really am grateful to you for keeping my friends safe (even if they're irritated by the security checkpoints and overall production...)

Officer, Officer...

...I'm scared and horny.  Can I sit on your lap?  You have such a nice, fine, thick bone...

Among Other Absurdities...

...I can't believe Frankie wanted to use his nifty psychic connection to get me in trouble for being high.

That must suck, being a telepath with a room-temperature IQ.  God, how awful!

Internationally

Still ecstatic about Myanmar, cautiously optimistic about Tunisia.

My worries about Tunisia include CIA rat-fuck activities in the country. Right now, Tunisians are trying the tactic of combating radical Islamists with efforts that promote democracy, at the very moment the Pentagon's balloon has gone up in their request for funding to address threats like ISIS with yet more military force. I could see many in the intelligence community being less than thrilled with any success achieved by those who counter radicals with other than might -- who fight with an eye to what they want and need and what's best, rather than with an eye to what they fear.

Some folks in Tunisia have decided to go with the truism that violence begets more violence, and that hatred can be defeated only by what is right and good, not by more hatred.  Let's hope the agency doesn't fuck this up.

UPDATE:  All this said (especially about CIA rat-fucks), the road to hell is paved with good intentions.  It could really harm the elements I support to have visible American back-up.  Maybe the intelligence community should just leave well enough alone in Tunisia.  Don't try to help -- you might hurt, them and yourselves.

Looking Back...

...(and hoping it doesn't get me turned into a pillar of salt.)

Anyway, when I reflect on the last several years, leading up to the events of October 22, 2014 and the days after, I have to say I don't feel too bad about being ejected from Isengard by Sauron just because he harbored a petty hatred of me, and being forced to move to the Shire.  Besides, orcs are annoying.

Was that a couple of them I saw passing by the other day?  If it was, they probably got their asses handed to them by whoever they bothered in Bag End...

Religious Freedom Restoration Act

Old news, and probably already challenged in court, I know, but I have to wonder:  If you're in Michigan and need to call first responders, how do they know if you're gay in order to decide whether or not to help you?  I guess maybe if you flame out in the ambulance, or if you're a tweaker -- straight dudes do gay shit on meth, so maybe...And the EMTs (except for the stoner driver) always know if you're a tweaker, and it matters to them...

Of Course, Some Tigers Can Change Their Stripes...

If you're going to pull a stunt like this, I suppose you might be ingenious enough to think up the helpful trick of making the subject believe it was his choice to ingest what he ingested, and that he's to blame for what happens to him.  That is to say, if you're fucking delusional...

The Janus Project/The Tweaker Project (Or Whatever the Hell It Was Called...)

A candle doesn't lose its flame by lighting another candle.  Aw, isn't that heartwarming and inspiring?  It really does speak to the indomitable beauty of the human spirit, to its innate nobility and dignity.  Really, if one could ignore all the death, emotional trauma, ugly (and sometimes criminal) behavior, and sci-fi/fantasy weirdness the experiment engendered among so many over the years, one could see thrown into sharp relief all that is good and worthy about humanity.  It is at first blush an epic waste of everyone's time that I, and not just I, turned into something useful, educational and edifying.  Thank you to whoever had the bright idea of squishing together the noggins of a not-terribly-apt sociopath and a batshit insane fag on meth who has a high IQ and a great deal of empathy.  I'd like to think when this whole production finally wraps up, we'll all be better for it.

(While I have yet to be actually, concretely dealt with in reality -- "reality" being program's synonym for meatspace -- and should therefore worry about my own hide, I can't help but feel pity for Frank H.  If what I suspect is true, his is going to be a sad denouement.  My heart goes out to him.  I hope he finds a good place where he's cared for and loved as best as the principals in the situation can demonstrate love.  Maybe you could "Area 51 his ass."  All he needs is food, water, and protection from anything with which he might accidentally injure himself.  And last I heard, he loves to play Cocaine and Dollhouses.)

P.S.  Was that program really a refinement of and capitalization on those early MKUltra experiments that were such a scandal back in the day?  I'm literally dying to know.  (God, my intellectual curiosity will be the death of me...)

How Dare You

My dad was a sailor, who served on the Kitty Hawk and in Vietnam.  (He wanted me to go to Annapolis, but I balked, and joined the civilian world much to my detriment, but I digress...)  His best friend was a Marine, and I've known Marines my whole life.  I've always loved them, and they've always been good to me.  There are times I couldn't have survived had it not been for a well-intentioned, enterprising young lance corporal.  I love them, and I always will.  (No love for the Core, but I care about those boys -- and girls, 'cuz there are a few BAMs out there...)

How could you?  These boys are on the edge, tweaking and high on heroin and homeless, sometimes selling their bodies after several tours.  Then they have to see that?  Fuck you sonsabitches.  Fuck you.  Those boys are my friends and I swear to god, if you try even a fraction with them of what you tried with me, I will seek you out, find you, and fuck your shit up for good.  Don't you ever dare fuck with them.  They are good men in pain, and I won't let you hurt them.  I am for real.  Call the local judge in the 415 if you want, go ahead -- tell them I threatened you.  It doesn't matter.  Karma actually exists, and you will get what's coming to you for hurting those boys.  There's nowhere to run to escape the consequences of what you've done.  Despair, if you've got the fucking brains to think that far ahead...

From Great Moments In Cinema

Charlie Chaplin's speech at the end of the film, "The Great Dictator":

"I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be an emperor. That’s not my business. I don’t want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone - if possible - Jew, Gentile - black man - white. We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other’s happiness - not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone. And the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way.

"Greed has poisoned men’s souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.

"The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men - cries out for universal brotherhood - for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world - millions of despairing men, women, and little children - victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people.

"To those who can hear me, I say - do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed - the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish.

"Soldiers! Don’t give yourselves to brutes - men who despise you - enslave you - who regiment your lives - tell you what to do - what to think and what to feel! Who drill you - diet you - treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don’t give yourselves to these unnatural men - machine men with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines! You are not cattle! You are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts! You don’t hate! Only the unloved hate - the unloved and the unnatural! Soldiers! Don’t fight for slavery! Fight for liberty!

"In the 17th Chapter of St Luke it is written: 'the Kingdom of God is within man' - not one man nor a group of men, but in all men! In you! You, the people have the power - the power to create machines. The power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure.

"Then - in the name of democracy - let us use that power - let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world - a decent world that will give men a chance to work - that will give youth a future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power. But they lie! They do not fulfil that promise. They never will!

"Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people! Now let us fight to fulfil that promise! Let us fight to free the world - to do away with national barriers - to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men’s happiness. Soldiers! In the name of democracy, let us all unite!"

The "Pressure Cooker" Program Makes White Boys Crack, Right Frankie?

ATTN:  Nicole Grays, Ricardo Guadron, Donald Falk, Frank Haros

The Latest (And If I Had My Say, the Last) Straw

But then, when have I ever had my say?

Oh, right.

Here we go again.  What a sad, terrifying (but is it still mystifying, in 2016?) story.

Of course, if it had happened in San Francisco, the article in the SFGate wouldn't have come out until it could cite a fig-leaf toxicology report from the City's creepy ME at General, cover for the cops, and downplay or neglect to mention the victim's poor grandmother, who also died in a hail of gunfire.

They're lucky I wasn't there, or I probably would have pulled another mean Dark Phoenix number (with of course the little leg up from my usual lovely, anonymous assistants -- always grateful for you guys out there), twisting their porky, hair-trigger asses all over the place.

Goddamn them.  He was just a kid.  And his grandmother!

I don't blame so many people for being afraid to ask for help...

On The Role of Fear

"Now, fear is not always an unskillful emotion. I've had many psychotherapists talk to me about this. They're curious about the fact that when the Buddha lists the roots of unskillful behavior, there's greed, aversion, delusion - or passion, aversion, and delusion. Where's the fear? For so many of them, fear is *the* unskillful emotion. Well, that’s not necessarily the case. Actually, there are some good things to be afraid of.

"Be afraid that you're going to do things unskillfully, be afraid you’re going to act in harmful ways. Be afraid of wasting your time –- the time that could be devoted to developing the mind. Those kinds of fears come under what the Buddha calls ottappa -- compunction or fear of wrong-doing. There's also the fear that comes with heedfulness: realizing that there are dangers out there and dangers in your own mind, and you've got to do something about them.

"So fear isn't always unskillful. It's when the fear gets mixed up with the greed or aversion or delusion: that's when you got a problem." - Thanissaro Bhikkhu "Nurturing Your Inner Adult"

To paraphrase Pema Chodron, to feel fear means you are approaching the truth.  (Not always true, but usually.)

She's also said that "Everything you want is on the other side of fear."  I think that was her -- I don't feel like looking it up.  But again, often true.

Aws Mohammed Younis Al-Jayab

That boy is so fine, he can blow me up with his babies.

(What?  I love America.  It's just that I'm ruled by courage, not by fear...)

Old Beach Haven Ain't My Home

The old bolsheviks admonished us to kill all the landlords, but in my opinion (one echoing the experiences of Woodie Guthrie), low-income housing profiteers are the worst.  It's ugliest in the middle echelons. #TNDC.

What The Yamabushi Told Ippen At Kumano

"Hijiri spreading the nembutsu of interpenetration, why do you go about it mistakenly? It is not through your

propagation that sentient beings come to attain birth. In Amida Buddha's perfect enlightenment ten kalpas 

ago the birth of all sentient beings was decisively settled in Namu-amida-butsu. Distribute your fuda 

regardless of whether people have faith or not, and without discriminating between the pure and the impure." 

- NO ABODE, translated by Dennis Hirota, page xxxv

Classified Ultra!

It's heartbreaking and disappointing to find out that the CIA operatives in charge of your case have been assigned to the Narnia division, and are therefore accessible only through a wardrobe...

Reno Screamer

I can't be the only one who's fed up with stories of cops shooting naked, unarmed, fucked-up people in public.  It's 2016 and this shit is still going on!

Mi Fuego

Mi fuego es muy sabroso y muy picante y muy precioso.  Ay, papi, china mi culo!

(Shout out to all mis amigos on Landers.  Keep pushing those shards, vato!)

A Reflection On What May Still Be Going On

God, that program sucked.  It really fucked up a lot of good crazy people (and not a few normal, employed, and well-adjusted people) in the Tenderloin.  I haven't been in it for over a year now, but it's still fresh in my memory.  We were all fighting for ourselves, but of course, we're human -- we were also doing our best to fight for each other.  A woman speeding by on her Hoveround in the other direction yelled at them to get off me.  Some nice schizophrenic yelled angrily on my behalf at the people on me.  And I for my part devastated with an untraceable twist of the knife those assholes that so many women on the street cry about and accuse of mind-rape. (Glad, by the way, that I could do my part.)  Really, how could it have happened?  Yet it did.

Personally, I think the worst for me was the temporarily successful assault on mirth itself.  That really killed something in me for a moment there.  But it seemed like most people were pissed off about the attacks on natural sexuality.  "Don't mess with the deed!" some brave ex-convict yelled on Eddy Street, and I was with him.  I mean, hosing down poor people who are coupling?  That's pretty fucking ugly, and somebody needs to pay hard for that.

(An aside:  I know a lot of people thought I was the most put-upon, worst hurt by that shitty situation, but I assure you all that I'm tough, and if anyone can take the hits, I can.  Anyway, I survived -- there a those who didn't.  It was deadly in some cases.)

I've got to say, the anti-sexual components of that evil program had a real-world effect that violated everything good and right in a person.  I remember going to Steamworks in Berkeley, getting messed with, and trying to watch those "Active Duty" videos on the computer.  The porn made me overwhelmingly sad and depressed, and I blame that weird, sociopath-administrated (though I don't blame Frankie -- he wouldn't have done it on his own), wasteful, and poorly thought-out psychic torture.

The pornography is inherently fun.  This dude who goes by "Dink" invites good-looking Marines and soldiers over to drink beer, smoke some meth, and fuck each other on camera (while he does rather unfortunate but ignorable monotone voice-overs and direction.)  Those videos are very popular in the gay world.

But that night, I looked at the fine-ass grunts and watched their dorky, hot antics, and all I could feel was this crippling sense of grief.  Boy, that program is fucked up.

(Sorry if I outed any of you retarded jarheads.  I fucking love you guys, but in recent years you're always pulling that shit where you flirt and don't follow through -- I owe you one lol.)