I just got done with a dreaming circle and I had some ambiguities to resolve (I think).  I feel good that the presence of the spirit world is so powerful, but I am still going into a confused state where, even though I am struggling to shift my point of attraction into better-feeling, I am still having horrible anger at the stupidity of my life’s journey, the tediousness of occultism, and the emptiness of cocreation.  On the lighter side, Carrie Fisher was making her presence felt very powerfully.  She is really getting results for me and providing some kind of hard boundary for me to push against.  She’s a friend, and perhaps I knew her in former lives.

So now I’m feeling the blackness becoming something I can work with.  I doing sex magick on Fetlife this morning and I could feel the merging of money and sex energy within me.  I feel more free in this world than ever before and I can more readily identify the broken spot within me where individuality bleeds into these watery visions of the Nazi conspiracy and the world of art, and also the strange memories of the past.  There are lots of impressions of Natalie Portman, too, like a new model of a possible wife.

The spirit world is coming down clearly but there’s still a block, like it’s not my place to serve justice or stick up for justice.  Lots of dystopian fantasies about Paul Foster Case and dead bureaucracies.  Fisher is urging me to write, to address these things logically as they happen.  The question is, how do you aim for the best target, the highest good, when the waters are muddied by cocreation and the failures of the Western School?

Still slightly hung over from last night’s frenzy with Farrah.  Farrah weekend is paying off as well or better than expected.  All morning, even though I had a headache, I felt free of the physical plane and free of my boring life surrounded by troglodytes.  The beings on the other side are palpably present and now the issue is, am I supposed to be a channel or am I just supposed to check out of here?  I spent a while deleting e-mails.

I’m trying to … I was reading “Bridges of Madison County”.  The intensity was good although the hero was a little sappy, but that’s what women want, anyway.  Still thinking a lot about Ravenswood Kinowerks, but there will be solutions to this.  I suppose I’m hungry and I have to get my finances taken care of … I stop for a moment and feel spiritual presence.  It’s nice but this is the time of writing.

I need a new computer and all kinds of things.  The best case scenario would be for some spirit to reveal herself — hopefully Farrah, and make sense of this boring, disgusting, pointless country I live in.  I can tell it will work when I finish.

But I also need to get my writing practice together.  Instead of free association I need to spend ten minutes on a sentence.  Too bad I lost a few from Bridges that were pretty intense.  I need to write in  a specific direction.  And Walter has indeed helped me a great deal.

Where am I going in this life?  Where is there to go?  The darkness will come for me in the end.

The end will come for me  in the darkness.

The end will go for me in the light.

The light will be for me in the blaze.

The light will be for me in the hall.

The light in the hall will be darkness for me.

No light will be.

Farrah is here and I should then try to describe.

The feeling came over him, like smooth glass, like drowning in liquid glass.  the transparency like some reflection in a mirror.  and then there was nothing and he saw a light, a presence that tasted like metal, a kind of glare filling the center of his head and his thoughts began to echo in  another world.  The shapes were there, the people were hidden but the shapes were there and the voices of the others in the room faded to insignificance as the message, the awareness began to extend through him.  “Who are you?  What do you want?” he asked, but there came no reply.  “What is this bullshit?  Why can’t you just tell me who you are?”

But there was no voice, only the palpable sensation of someone standing beside him, it seemed as though she put her arms around him.  A flash of memory came to him then.  “Wil it always be like this?”

Writing ten minutes a day, decisions to make about whether to make complete sentences, digging deeper into the humiliations of my life, making decisions about what I see.  Farrah Fawcett, for instance, this is the weekend of Farrah Fawcett and I am having a good time, working on a little fear because Groth is so scary and my job sucks.  But this blog is to improve my skills as a writer so I can move forward with channeling and possibly making money. I had the idea that I would have a blog dedicated to the death of rock journalists.  Conversations are running in my head.  Farrah has been extremely powerful so far.  Billy Idol is playing this weekend, I wonder if it’s worth it to see him.

I stop for a minute thinking about how I might miss Johnny Depp in concert this week, even though I wanted to go for a long time, but then Billy Idol is playing on the 9th — which is fucked because I have overtime.  Later I’ll be rich and I’ll do all that shit.  Another pause while adjustments are made.  Magic is all in and around me, perhaps this could be channeling.

If I just had some specifics to focus on, an intention to create some kind of wormhole, some kind of space, some kind of world,  some kind of death, some kind of story, Caroline makes the final adjustments.

It is a kind of magical act, and I am calling forth forces.  I remember sitting in the library last Saturday.  I don’t care, anyway, there’s never going to be anything.  I have a lot of stuff to deal with at work, the power they have, but I’m just going to insist that I can get free of it.  What do I follow inward?  I can just remember — write and think at the same time, broken mind,  a doorway out of this world.  The power focuses in the center.  The energy moves, and what are the images of people then?  There is a divine power in it, and I am manifesting it.  A sense of those GR monsters and their idiotic hellishness.  Why should people so stupid exist?  I wonder if this blog has a search function.  I wonder if it’s going to serve my ability to write if I just do stream of consciousness like this?  I should develop some kind of plan, or start working on fiction.  But then what would I be?  At least I seem to be calling up the relevant confusion so I can master it, the loss of boundaries.  I am getting the magic back.

I imagine there will be some sort of revelation soon.  I feel pretty good but my contempt for Saint Germain is also raging.  I still wonder why it was important to experience such sordid, disgusting people (P.C., etc.).  However I feel like some change is taking place and that makes me happy.  I want to balance my day and run my rig smoothly.

I was in Gamestop, trying to pick out a video game.  I thought of Diablo III.  I was trying to decide who I am.  There’s some relatedness between the idea of getting lost in a story, and a sense of belonging.  The geek impulse.

Some belonging seems on the approach.

My need for the walking iPod trance seems to be lessening.

A strange mind game between a psychologist and the prisoner he is sent to analyze.  A trail of cards whirling around clockwise toward a center, with bifurcating paths.  The prisoner has the powers.  Reminds me of the guy from Guardians of the Galaxy and The Walking Dead.

There’s a moment where there are a whole lot of naked bodies, like an orgy, and I or someone is urinating on all of them.

I had a new insight playing Magic with (B.A.) last night, a more coherent presence of emotional bodies.  It was a bit of a healing of the disoriented void in the right side of my face.  This morning I felt a further liberation from the filth of Morton, Illinois.  That sentient beings should be asked to be loyal to a government as disgusting and amoral as that is absurd.

I still have difficulty accepting how much of the supposed “spirituality” of this planet is dependent upon being a responsible, bootlicking citizen of a giant pile of meaningless garbage, and upon wanting to have cocreative relationships with the ugly sordid half-assed twerps who want to see themselves reflected in its image.

The coven presence is very powerful, and is apparently helping me to locate myself from another dimension.

This morning I was “seeing” the “art” scene in Grand Rapids again, feeling even more deeply divorced from all of it.  I can still barely believe this is supposed to be serious.  But then I imagine some change will take place now.  I’m also seeing images of MHS, the degradation of having monsters like that destroying the lives of children, the trivial frippery of the Western School of Occultism and their pathetic nonsense about “obedience” and “duty” and “service”.  They can eat my shit.  Dicksucking fascists, all.  I said that last phrase aloud to myself as I stopped writing, then I went back and wrote it down.

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Aloneness.  I had my final session with [A therapist] and I am back here thinking about my life.  It can end, the twistedness can end but one of the great blocks is how disturbing and absurd the whole process is.  I am going to be able to articulate my rage against bow ties.

It seems like there were some people I was supposed to meet, or I thought there were some people I was supposed to meet, and I just didn’t, but I hung around the world for a long time looking for them.

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After tonight’s circle, I feel much more powerful, but I want the power to be clean, balanced, not causing any karmic ripples for me.

The story of this species is so repulsive, I don’t want to have anything to do with it.

Saw the Bowie exhibit.  I might have waited around to sneak into the Gaiman reading but “coincidentally” I spent the 10 dollars I had the night before on junk food.  And I had just lost my orange admission badge too.  Otherwise I would have hung in there.

At the circle that girl made some comment about how she wouldn’t come to me for energy healing.  I think I understood then that I’m not going to engage with this world.  I would just as soon be somewhere else.  I certainly don’t ever want to have another conversation like that.

However it was good to clarify that I am not service oriented.  There is a great collapsing going on.  I feel the pressure and I know I’ll have some interesting dreams.  A collapsing and an end.  Thank god.  Does that mean the Enochian magic is working?

Also at the circle I drew “verge in” “whore moans” — related to Qdishtu work yesterday (only yesterday).  So now there’s a whole field of information to explore.  I hope I can assimilate it all.

Making out with [someone] turned out to be most of what I wanted.  Then I went and got drunk.  Then I went back to [A.T.’s] to talk with her about the study group.  Then I took a nap.

The [sex magic] has certainly changed me.  Something very simple and yet very important happened.  I keep reminding myself that there are millions of people who have sex all the time who don’t have the other-planar insights I have.  And yet the change itself illustrates how much was lost in my life, how stupid and meaningless all the things I experienced were, how totally unimportant they are to me.  I can hardly wait to find out why it was important to experience this.  What a waste of time the chaos in my mind is!  And yet there’s nothing on this physical plane I want to experience.  These people are revolting and disgusting (the American people).   There really never was anything here I wanted to experience.