Kind of like the movies . . .

this is like a scene from “highlander” or something, i’m drawing all kinds of energy into myself which has a palpable reality, like syrup . . . similar feeling to that i had a couple of years ago, waking up from a dream about Oshun.  i felt the air thick all around my head, as though i had carried the dream back with me into the world.  i posted about that on my myspace blog.  i’ll have to cross-post this there.  basically these little fleeting glimpses of higher consciousness which i get take a couple of years to work their way down until they’re fairly consistent.

so now i have this etheric “syrup” all around me and i’m getting to the point where i can actually “link up” or “sync up” with all these people with whom i’ve had extraoridnarily frustrating realtionships over the last couple of years — people who i’m obviously psychically connected with but with whom i somehow never have the time or ability to be around.  now i’m out in chicago and most of them are back in that craphole grand rapids . . . some are in toronto . . . south africa, even.  people i’d like to connect with in some way but cant.  

i look down through the syrup, my “assemblage point” or whatever you want to call it moves through this morass of energy picking its way so i can finally see the energy that’s actually linking these people up.  don’t know what you call it but it works.  

the big mystery is, by the time this is all over, this 2012 thing or whatever it is, none of us will be even remotely as we imagined we ought to be.  we’re all becoming something entirely new and Other.

a dream come true

just found out that jaqueline bisset is angelina jolie’s godmother.  that is so fucking cool!  i’ve never really been into tabloids the way all the trailer trash are — i haven’t had sympathy for famous people since i was a teenager.  to me they’ve always been representatives of an alien world of success and fame where i can never go, and therefore i do not consider their personal relationships to be significant — BUT now that i know that jacqueline bisset is angelina jolie’s godmother i feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  i’m so happy for them both.  i just finished watching francois truffaut’s “day for night” (in which bisset stars, hence looking her up on wikipedia) and i have this magical sentimental feeling of connection to a former lifetime, before i was thrust all unwilling into multidimensionality, when i believed in being a good person and that the american people would rise to the occasion of their responsiblity for world freedom.  seriously!  i used to believe dumb things like that!

what i mean is that “day for night” was made in 1974, before american politics was revealed to be hopelessly corrupt and malevolent, when serious people could still hope that humanity would not be completely debased by mass-media, when people still believed in common decency and other things like that . . . and watching movies from that era, when you could still believe that famous artists had the power to uplift and were not simply pawns in an ugly multi-billion dollar entertainment industry scam . . . well you could feel like a part of a society back then, even though the truth was awful, even though racism was worse and womens’ rights were less that was back before post-modernism and “theory” and reagan and all the other absurdities that crushed innocence and wonder out of existence. even though there was horrifying injustice you could still talk about “humanity” and “nobility of spirit” with a straight face.  it may seem like a bit of a stretch but that’s what a warm-hearted movie like “day for night” evokes in me, a nostalgia for a time when humanity had not been debased into the vile parody that it [has] now.  and it makes me feel good to find a small bit of evidence that there is continuity in that cold alien world of a couple of cool people who knew each other and managed to survive the holocaust that is occurring all around us.

continued notes for “cold fusion”

cold fusion is a truly magical writing in that the name and meaning of the name came or come from a magical vision, a vision i share with the spirit i sometimes call steffany and other times know as jody.

it is difficult for me to write because i don’t care what people think.  i wonder who i’m communicating with. to illustrate my point, let me say that i’m a great fan of the motivational writer stephen covey.  i try to lead my life by his principles.  however i’ve always been unable to perform one of the exercises he recommends, and that is to imagine my own funeral and what people would say there.  i can’t imagine my own funeral because i don’t care.  i can’t think of one person’s opinion i’m worried about.  you can all go to hell for all i care.

of course i say this as a true believer in the afterlife and spirit communication.  this seems to be my problem, that i am so totally concerned with the afterlife and getting back to it that i can’t bring myself to care about what happens here in the world.  let it all burn down, it doesn’t matter a bit.

and so it’s difficult to write because i can’t visualize a reader.  it’s not that i don’t care what my friends might think of what i write.  i just can’t visualize a generic “human being” to write for.  i can’t invest emotional energy in an audience.  i wouldn’t trust it if i could.

i have performed dance, music, and theater before and over the years i came to care less and less what audiences thought, i came to trust their praise less and less — or rather my opinion of humanity in general fell so far that popular acclaim became largely meaningless.  after all these are the same crowd who accept christianity, islam, judaism.  these are the same people who voted for george w. bush and the iraq war.

ordinary people are not cool.  just being a person is not a wonderful thing, no matter how well-meaning you are.  i guess i view humanity in general as a failed enterprise and though i wish all the best for the souls that animate these incarnations, i don’t want to live among them.

so let’s call this the world’s longest suicide note, shall we?  i’m wishing myself out of existence, and this is my long goodbye.