I was thinking this afternoon about how [C.] liked the Dire Straits album with Money for Nothing on it, and at that time that idiotic song was so overplayed I wanted to vomit.  In all my life I think that was the most overplayed song ever.  Anyway I was thinking about it this afternoon, because of her, and then within an hour I was sitting in traffic and a car two lanes over had that very song blaring out of its radio.  Not bad for a twenty year old song.  I expect to bump into [C.] on the street any day now.

Apr. 17 2020 – We’ve been Facebook friends for years, though we’ve never communicated.  It’s interesting to note the specific year Facebook was changing my attitude toward my past.

and part of this has to do with the true, psychic perspective that we are all one . . . that is probably a large element of the pain, because i am very in tune with unity consciousness so the fact that we have to have the illusion of separation does cause me suffering.  i want to get away from it ASAP.  and i literally believe that there is a higher world after death where we still have our personalities, plus all the other personalities of all our other incarnations, and we live without the illusion of time.

but i think probably the isolation of this life was so that i could in fact develop my psychic awareness.  at least that makes the most sense to me.

So the rest of it is that often when I talk about my life I sound more unhappy than I am because most people can’t relate to my shamanic, mystical experiences.  So digging up this stuff from the past, it becomes clear to me that it was around that age that I began to gain self-awareness and realize that I didn’t trust anyone in the world not to hurt me.  I didn’t trust anyone to actually like me and not talk shit about me behind my back.  I remember feeling so isolated then, and every day I’d go to school and chat with people and wonder how to get “in” with them so I’d feel like a part of the gang but it never happened.

And it was because I did not actually trust existence.  I would fantasize about these people and what they were like, and it never matched reality and I became far more obsessed with getting out of having to understand people than actually being with them.  I just wanted to end the pain of loneliness.  and i would actually get around people and i would become withdrawn and not have anything to say and be very sad because there seemed to be this wall between me and the world.  and then often i would have a shamanic experience that i couldn’t believe in, where i would experience elder beings coming to me and telling me that i had a choice to participate in life or not, and i would always choose no because i couldn’t understand why life had to be so confusing.  and i would get scared because it would seem crazy to experience these presences.  and even to this day i still don’t trust life or trust relationships because i know it’s only a dumbshow, i know that it’s all being observed from some higher plane.

Even today I’ve spent several days wandering through this astral scenery of my freshman year in high school . . . it’s not the actual past that matters, it’s that these scenes appear before my eyes.  It’s an overwhelming emotional presence that my mind is producing and I don’t know how to stop it, or if I should, or what significance it has . . .

and how does it relate to my spiritual activities?  i know that spirits watch over me.  i just want the pain to go away.  i feel like i’ve been in the midst of psychic mistrust and confusion since i was a child and i want to clarify things . . .

that was soooo long before any of this synchronicity stuff started sweeping the nation.  before “the celestine prophecy” or “way of the peaceful warrior” – before the berlin wall fell.  and the bizarre, plastic reality we have now is so much more real than anything that was going on then . . . but it still feels like all that was somehow more permanent, although it wasn’t.  that horrifying blank materialist reality of “society” and “self-image” and crap is all gone . . . magic is certainly more real than any of that . . . but i guess the astral mechanics of all of it need to be understood.

I have no idea what she’d think of me if I ever saw her again . . . I have no idea what she thought of me the last time I saw her.  She was pretty messed up, herself and I was having the most pathetic year of my life. and i recall being fairly inept at relating to her. But I remember now, how she used to paralyze me when I was 14 . . . how I could feel her presence in the room when I thought about her, how I felt as if I were being transported by her, by this overwhelming sensation of her presence . . . and I had to struggle, tell myself “it’s just your imagination” . . . like a lot of people that age do . . . but it wasn’t just my imagination, it was some kind of astral thing . . . some way the universe is wired together that the opposite sex affects us like that . . . so I learned, like everyone does, to incorrectly interpret these astral sensations.  but the question is why would we be allowed to be conscious and have these astral things happening to us that make us crazy.  specifically, why was i allowed to sense those things, that peeling back of the edges of reality, but given no explanation?  why did i have to figure it out for myself? i remember i used to wonder about that.  I would actually slip into trance states thinking about her (i think a lot of teenagers do this but they are programmed to forget . . . i mean they *fantasize* like crazy but i also think they receive psychic information which they learn to screen out consciously) . . . and i think i might even remember my intuition transmitting a message that i would have to wait to find out, that there was a guru waiting for me but i’d have to wait to see him, and resenting that fact . . . i’ve always resented the fact that life is so confusing.

and yet even then, as an atheist, i was having psychic experiences.  i was imagining contact from higher beings.  it never really went away; i just convinced myself that i didn’t believe it.  it is indeed all part of one cosmic arena.

and yeah, just thinking about her today and yesterday i’m remembering what it’s like to be really in love with someone in the physical world.

i want to quickly cover up that last post because it’s sentimental and embarrassing . . . furthermore, you can’t go home again, as i proved in the late eighties when i went back to west lafayette and was a drug-addled moron and an embarrassment to my hosts . . . that was one of the low points of my life, knowing that i didn’t belong anywhere in the world.  and i was thoroughly miserable because i was being continually bombarded by psychic impressions even though i didn’t believe in psychic phenomena . . . 

well that’s okay, everything goes on, this is twenty years later, i’ve been doing shamanism since 1996, everyone’s getting used to this stuff . . . on into the future.

I spent the day with Neale Donald Walsch a couple of weeks ago.  He’s a pretty amazing guy, an incredibly powerful speaker who can change your life.  Chicago is actually becoming a nexus for these superfamous spiritual authors like Walsch and Deepak Chopra — Oprah is sponsoring a show, “Celebration of Life” where they come from all around for a weekend . . . I came to the right place.

I’m so glad I left Grand Rapids.  What a dorky little town.  I can’t believe I ever felt excited about that place.  There is so much going on here . . . free at last, free at last, thank god almighty I am free at last.

But of course the problem with blogging these days is that the earth is spinning to its conclusion.  The psychic realities of all this are so complex and rapidly changing that writing about them gets to be an exercise in the obsolete.  

Avedon was the world’s greatest writer, even though he had never published anything.  In former lives he had been Homer and Virgil and also Victor Hugo and Jack Kerouac.  Unfortunately the 21st century was completely meaningless and so he had nothing in particular to write about.  Everyone was utterly stupid and uninteresting and life was a really bad joke that had been told over and over for at least 100 years.  People weren’t much more than ugly monkeys so he decided to kill himself.  

He jumped off a cliff and died and no one ever heard of him in that lifetime and no one cared anyway because they were all poor and frustrated and empty and everyone was glad when the United States and China went to war and annihalated everyone.  Ultimately everyone agreed that mass death was better than another century of excruciating boredom surrounded by idiots.

I know it’s a brief, sad story but it’s utterly fucking true!  Aaaaah!  My head hurts!  

I could be an artist again . . . now that I truly believe in an afterlife with real people in it, who have personalities and love (as opposed to some hideous buddhist/qabalistic abstraction of karmic forces and species evolution) I could actually make some art that I’d like for myself, engage with that whole sense of wonder and mystery that I gave up years ago when I concluded that humanity were a bunch of vile monkeys who had no reason to exist.  

I really did you know, I gave up on human beings and love and everything . . . and this planet still sucks ass and I don’t care about anything that happens here, but spirits in the afterlife are real so personality is real even if the humans on Earth have totally failed to do anything worthwhile . . .