4/17/2020 – another “imaginary” post, the result of PTSD.  there were no fights during this time.  my mind was weaving together images of violence.  it’s interesting to see the evolution because in this post I’m wondering about [s] as though he were a friend, and only later did I realize he was a complete scumbag who hated me and used me.

turning 39 tomorrow.  i am a success in life because i have escaped the material plane.  i have attained psychic powers which assure me that there is a life beyond this shitty world.  that alone is such a relief that i can’t bring myself to care about anything else.

i’m remembering the late 80s now, when i was an atheist who somehow thought rock music was spiritual.  what evil stupid people i was surrounded by!  my friends father, a lay minister, who had murdered his first wife in a bid for insurance money and went on to murder his third as well.  that guy they called Stoney who shot two people just for the hell of it.  my first music theory teacher who tried to destroy my career — though there is some justice for he was found guilty of academic misconduct and his career was ended.  should i relish the knowledge that he was so bitter because his heart was dying and he had no money to fix it?  i helped kill him by providing evidence by which his enemies took his job away.  and there was that evil skank [t], the wanna-be drug dealer i had a war with.  boy, what a bunch of interesting people i knew!

so much violence, so many fights i can barely remember that blend into fantasy because i have post-traumatic-stress disorder and my memory is so bad.  and yet this same “phantasmagoric” quality of my mind is what opened me to shamanism.  and now i am in triumph over my past.  because the sheer ugliness of my teenage years was the sense of being trapped and isolated that had no meaning or value, where people were cruel and soulless liars and manipulators and all the things i loved i could only see from a distance and never touch.

now however i know there’s an afterlife, and all those ugly people of my past must stand and justify themselves before the vision i now hold, the vision i fought for and won with a river of blood sweat and tears.

all hail the Church of Art Triumphant!

“twenty years gone” is a variation of the song title “ten years gone”, which i listened to with [S.] in the parking lot one night, slightly drunk i think, god how music was an angelic, erotic solace in those days.  all those friends of my youth gone forever (though i could probably find them in a minute on the web).  [j] and bob i know have passed on.  [s] probably i have changed too much.  erik and jeff i never want to see again.  was there anyone else?  [c] never replied to my last e-mail.  was there anyone else?  what else was there?  not much.  i don’t miss them.  no nostalgia, just a weird, earth-shattering sensation of vertigo as i realize that magic was real even then, that who i am now is far more important, that i eventually did find the magic i sought, the escape from the vileness that is peoria, illinois . . .