Blue Testament: The History Channel's Hot Hot Hell

the lord says, if you see a face while looking down into a hole, it's NOT pareidolia, sinner, it's demonic.

Watching the weirdly theologian-ish "The Gates of Hell" on the History Channel this weekend was a pretty intense experience but, once again--as with so many other quests for holy knowledge that TV documentaries attempt to summarize--it seemed bogged down in arguing against moot points. The strategy they use is simple: Phase One - lay out a very dogmatic and literalist interpretation (i.e. you can get to Hell via volcanoes! That's what they used to think! Maybe it's true?) and then arguing against it ("of course you can't, that's ridiculous!") but with enough open ellipses ("... or is it?") to keep us watching. That said, when smarmy scholars who note that, as far as eternal torture goes: "Those who call [the Book of Revelations] Christian pornography may not be far from the mark."

I've seen and experienced various hells over the years: school, bad trips, adverse medications, fevers, withdrawals. I've had nervous breakdowns where I would have gone to the hospital had I been in any condition to speak or dial 9-1-1.  And I can tell you that we can get used to anything, even agony and total panic. If there's something beyond that, well no one's been able to pick up a pen and write about it.

But I'll try. Lately I'm seeing all the dots connected, the underground military bases where the Reptilians live and store body parts and soul energy in little foodbar-size batteries that seem to the inhabitants like a small cell that create excruciating pain and despair (you might say our despair and pain are the voltage we produce, so we have to be 'milked' -- the way slapping on the cow's dugs creates creaminess). And there those poor souls sit, trapped in the underground spaceship's battery pack, their inner light and sense of self reduced to a a 5th dimensional Duracell.

Thus "an eternal abyss of death and damnation" feels far longer than it is, but then that's the catch to living outside of time and space: a minute not only seems like a lifetime, but terms like 'minute' and 'lifetime' become meaningless.

I recall the big argument against teaching creationism at the climax of INHERIT THE WIND, that God couldn't have made the earth in seven days if there was no 'days' before earth was made (since there was no way to measure a day without the spinning axis of the earth). That catch-22 is all over the idea of 'eternal' damnation - eternity is the same as a hot second when you're beyond the confines of time and space, and stuck purely in the eternal moment. "Eternity" simply means outside the confines of linear time. Ghosts from 200 years ago don't feel they've been sitting around that long; they don't feel any concept of time. The Tibetan Book of the Dead talks about a 49-day time limit between bardos, but they mean 49 Earth days, which may only seem like a few hours to the one stuck between stations.

Of course there's the fractal nature of it all --as above so below and so here now-- what in one dimension are giant tweezers lifting you from the hell of a Bunsen burner to the spiritual ecstasy of a cotton swab are God's bony fingers plucking you from Satan's ever-blooming flame garden back into your body in another; a sudden surge of pineal gland activity is also a 'mere' fevered hallucination (to a psychologist) or a spiritual vision (to a shaman). A stoner might just see it as a bum trip, a monk as a moment of doubt, a Beverly Hills housewife as a nervous breakdown --but they're all just words and if we let them narrow the scope of the event experienced, that's on us. Society devalues the subjective experience, so that a blissful summer of psychedelically kick-started connection and awakening is boiled down to 'dude, I was so fucked up at Burning Man.:

The questions these History and Nat Geo documentaries never ask are the most important ones of semiotics: what 'you' do you mean when you talk of "being" in Hell? How is possible to be "imprisoned" after you cease to exist? 'Your' body is on a slab in the morgue so what part of the 'you' construct of a physical body with a brain and soul winds up "being in Hell" after you are dead? Is your physical tactile body present? Is it an out of body perception? If you lost a toe in fifth grade is it back? If you died at 99 are you still stuck in an old body or do you get to be 21 again? A 'trapped' consciousness is what exactly? What is the difference between dreaming and reality in the afterlife?How do we see and hear without eyes or ears? Not all of our psyche/soul lives on. Other parts may fill the gap. When the lightbulb burns out, the current is still there, but it's not illuminating.

Well, who put us in this prison of consciousness? The Devil, Beezlebub, The Zionist Conspiracy, or our own alcoholic slice and voth? One guy on "Gates of Hell" documentary talked of the out-of-body experience as feeling like he was standing up, his legs moving below the bed and through the floor, when he was lying in a hospital bed. Dude, I've felt that in my futon on the floor, upside down, so that my head was sticking through the floor, and right above me (i.e. below my bed) were a team of ghost greys tinkering with my brain. I was afraid to let go all the way because of my breathing - it was like a fallopian oxygen tube stopping the bubble helmet from sealing hermetically around my neck.

I would advise that when you're getting sucked into the Reptilian devil's vacuum soul collector remember that your soul is like a balloon, and the more happy and carefree and full of love it is the more inflated, airborne. The Reptilian devils want your soul to be half-inflated, in a little squirmy rubbery thing, all closed down and thick in density (the seven deadly sins are notoriously awesome soul-condensers) they can catch in their vacuum bag, while the inflated one just rises past the vacuum's reach. The demons are not too worried about those. Their job is to shake their fist up at the soul and seem mad; but when the catch is this huge you salute the plucky few who got away.

And if you imagine all that like a literal vacuum, or think the gates to Hell are a real volcanic place, then I think you're off the mark... not that there's not (maybe) reptilian bases all over the world but I don't believe the Old Gods that Lovecraft hallucinated and who control our politicians are to be taken literally, which is why they try so hard to make you think on those 'literal' levels. Indeed those literal levels were created for just such a concealment. A fifth dimensional being who wants to exploit you is going to convince you that there is no fifth dimension: "I don't know why, but I really don't want to pay attention to the man behind the curtain. And I think anyone who pays attention to the man behind the curtain should be shot." It's only when you look behind it irregardless of what the culture mandates that these incongruities reveal themselves.

Amen, but in this case the man behind the curtain really is invisible, so the only way to see him is to blow a lot of sage smoke around to get his outline, and that's why he never hangs around when a 'clearance' is properly done. Conversely, the more blood you spill, the more the green head projection may become solidified. Connect the dots and the difference between vampires, Reptilians, Satan, and God/s all but disappears.

So the 'you' who thinks the voice telling you to sacrifice virgins to the volcano is just your psychosis or insanity, it isn't the real you at all, but there's a 5th dimensional astronaut ghost puppeteer holding your strings, who will drink up your virgin's crystal-white energy like it's Tang, and he will drink and be defined by her blood, like in HELLRAISER, and indeed Hell shall follow with her.

So how can you avoid this hellish soul sucking? Follow these handy steps:

1. Smoke - Reptilians hate smoke as it sticks to their clothes (fire being a fourth-dimensional gateway). Keep incense and sage burning all the time.

2. Love Everybody! No exceptions. This doesn't mean you need to be vulnerable to someone who means to do you harm, but just kill them with a kind heart and loving heart. It makes a difference!

3. Be light and happy in spirit, and nice to dogs and other animals; eat no meat if it can be helped, or be omnivorous.

4. Amass not great fortunes. Wealth breeds reptilian interest, and their insatiable greed and corrupt blood will bring you tumbling down into the abyss. A rich camel entering heaven is like a man going through the eye of a needle; he would need to be liquified and poured, long, slowly and steadily through the eye via an elaborate tubing process. It might take years. So spend and give freely, yet never say no to a chance to sell out so you can infiltrate and dissolve the infrastructure of the Reptoid elite.

6. Be not obnoxious in your wisdom, for it doth turn real fast to dogma. If you have the urge to preach, you're not as enlightened as you think. Mania is good anyway, so don't sell it short.

7. Learn to melt, dissolve and evaporate your brain. When the demon gate guardians come, just open your arms to embrace them and become light and love and they can no sooner harm you than a blade can harm a ray of sunlight or a radio signal, for that is all you are, a combo of the two. Their job is to make you think of yourself as matter they can slice to ribbons.


We're trained to imagine our souls die when our body dies, that this is the common theme of atheism. Oh man, if only. If we didn't have to come back, how glorious! But it's wishful thinking. Does the radio station die if you turn off the receiver?

That's Hell fer ya - not being able to change the radio channel from your prison documentary perception as a living, thinking radio. Switching up into higher frequencies is so easy it defies possibility, hence is too impossible to relate in words. It's more about forgetting than remembering, more about giving up opposites than choosing good over evil. When you are at that level you are no longer the angel or the devil but the man taking tickets at the fight. And you are the bleachers, and the cheering throngs, and the broom that sweeps the blood. Clean up your hell ten feet square and get out of the ring. You don't even have to stay in the building. As easy as a shadow creeping across a graveyard, you exist unstoppably.

You are the ocean and the sky and here in this dimension is where you, we, twist into clouds.

And from our uneasy altitude we look down at the ocean like it's trying to kill us, to drag us back down, and the sun is trying to evaporate us from above, but somehow mocking us for we'll never make it all the way into the arms of its bright promise, and so we feel trapped between them, when all the while, we were them, and will be again, and again, and already are.

 
I guess one can't blame the History Channel for not picking up on that, but they did a reasonable job with Ancient Aliens.

Glennwiz VS Naturd

This guy did some of the DMT hallucination graphics in INTO THE VOID, which makes him A-list! Check it out and blow thy mind

Bertolt Brecht Vs. The Aliens

Preface: The idea of addressing the question of a pre-existing extraterrestrial presence on our planet in a journal with an aim of some academic integrity may put some readers off. If so, may I preface with the suggestion that this piece is not so much about aliens and whether or not they're here in any form, and instead about knee-jerk reactions of fear and rejection such as some skeptical readers may or may not have? Mention flying saucers and greys in an average college classroom and the teacher will have a fit. So this article is perhaps about why that is,  this reaction of outrage and dismissal is akin to what a 13th century Christian missionary might have towards some Mayan priest telling him the Earth revolves around the sun and not vice versa. The issue isn't whether or not it's true, even, but the motivation behind the violence of the rejection. If a child tells her mother that she thinks flowers are born on the moon, the mother wont have her burnt at the stake for a heretic, presumably. A kid who believes Santa Clause is real won't be booed out of his Kindergarten class. So why does the alien issue so terrify modern academia unless there's something to it?
 ----
The issue of secrecy is one counter to the entire flow of media in our media saturated culture. We're so used to news feeding on itself, making public every last thing about everything that when news goes in the opposite direction it becomes automatically discredited. We're told flat out not to believe everything the news and those in power say--new scandals erupt all the time--and yet we still back off of any topic the media belittles, as if we're still struggling with school yard taunting trauma, we don't want to be considered crazy by mentioning we think some high powered cabal in the corporate-governmental substrata is keeping the truth about aliens from us. We can't handle the truth, therefore the truth is the truth isn't.

 And yet, UFOs are a part of the culture. Everyone knows about them and jokes about flying saucers  and yet through the joking about it, they believe it even as they doubt it. Is this perhaps some slow burn acclimation process? When we're still stuck on square one - do they exist? Then we're not freaking out about square three - what do they want from us and square four - there's nothing we can do to stop them. 


So-- what if the upper echelons of a black ops government used Brechtian post-modernism to simultaneously educate and placate the world on the subject of UFOs, aliens, and our spiritual future. And the worst part of all? You already know this to be true.  Read all about it in Bruce Rux's classic book, Hollywood Vs. The Aliens!

There's two schools of thought on this issue, one of which is that the alien issue is a fabrication by black ops military to cover experiments with saucer-shaped craft pioneered by the Nazis, funding for them illuminated by Project Paperclip via the Thule Society. Another is that the truth of an alien presence is deliberately muddied via the tactics of post-modern Brechtian theater.

A classic way to imagine this would be via the films of Godard. There's a scene in First Name: Carmen (1983), for example, wherein a shoot-out between sexy young terrorist bank robbers and French police is going on in a hotel wherein elderly residents read newspapers in the various seats around the lobby. As the gun melee goes on around them, the elderly register the events the way tolerant grandparents might react to their grandchildren running through the living room with toy guns, shrieking in their own private play world.

So are we meant to assume they also see the film cameras and know this is just a movie? How can we tell which is which as far as what's supposed to be 'real' within the film? By interjecting chaotic, comic but pedestrian elements into real-life bank robberies, for example, the situation can become confused. If you rob a bank dressed as clowns with someone filming like it's a Hollywood action film, how would people react? No one knows how to react in those situations. There is no correct response. A play or real life? Are we supposed to just know which is which? This confusion puts reality into a realm known as Brechtian post-modernism, where all these differences are transcended.


Now apply this to a UFO crash, something so unbelievable in and of itself, so out of the realm of normal experience that it makes a bank robbery look like a traffic light. Naturally as the Big Other government it's your job to placate the public, to keep them in the dark about the true nature of the universe so they can go about their business without panicking and starting a stampede.  If you were to bring a psy-ops agent to a real alien crash scene and have him drop a Martian dummy nearby, something alien-like yet obviously faked, then  the whole believability of the 'real' crash over the hill would be called into question, without you having to do anything about hiding the true evidence. By making a mask of an alien face and pulling it off a human being, you instantly relegate all alien faces as mere masks. If you know what the aliens look like, slip a picture or drawing to a reliable Hollywood producer, to make a film where the aliens look and act exactly like they do in 'real life,' Now if anyone sees them there's no need to worry. Credibility is gone.

At the same time, the intruding element would be removed from our conscious plane and shown a comfortable niche for itself below, in the realm of collective archetypal myth. Couldn't this also be a root reason for the demonic masks of tribal ceremonies throughout the world? In creating masks of demons, the actual demon is contained in the realm of fiction. Anthropologist called it mimetic magic. You can call it 'razzle-dazzle'!

While films like Hangar 18 (1980) retrofit the truth with unbearably crappy special effects (the saucer [below] looks like a bunch of suitcases and the aliens look like they were kicked out of a Star Trek Next Generation audition room) their very cheapness actually makes their message more authentic. We're conditioned to associate 'education' with bad, faded film stock and crappy special effects because of low budget 'safety' films from elementary school, splice-ridden film strips, faded educational documentaries, and outmoded bus safety films. HANGAR takes its ideas from 1970s paranoia films and its look from 70's TV like the Rockford Files: everything from NASA to the press to Air Force HQ to the president seems to all take place in a single low budget set. The titular hangar is just hanging out there in the wind, instead of deep inside rock like so many other things.


In HANGAR 18, the military crew under Harry Forbes Darren McGavin are excited about the recovered alien craft but as it's classified top secret not long after being discovered, those who discovered it are left out of the loop via some hilariously dissociative language from Harry. He tells them it's all being taken care of on a need to know basis, and then that's all he tells them, never even mentioning they're no longer in the know: "It's not necessary... it's all going to come out in the report. That's all you have to know for now... everything's going to be all right."

That's all the public needed to know: everything was going to be all right. The extreme cheapness of these science fiction films about UFOS serves the same ingenious propaganda purpose: "Everything's going to be all right. Look at how under funded and ugly those aliens are! Nothing to worry about, ask us no questions, just go about your business."

 

The whole issue of belief is central to American thinking, to the point where even atheists feel the need to trumpet loudly all they do not believe in. In Russia, Hangar 18 was the first western movie shown on TV ever, and a whole generation of Soviet kids grew up to be diehard Hangar fans. They know the events are true! Belief never even enters into it. Maybe that's part of their heritage vs. ours, and is something so eloquently discussed by Slavoj Zizek, that in life under communism everyone knew they were just pretending to believe in the communist system. They celebrated and marched in solidarity purely as a performance for the Big Other. When communism fell and the wall came down, it was a tipping point moment --everyone just stopped believing and suddenly there was nothing there. In this way tyranny can set you free, because it shows you the folly of belief itself, leaving you free to just know.

If you look at the anti-implementations of Godard, and of Brecht of course, we see this 'just knowing' throughout, the narrative post-modern disruption as divine wake-up call, and not just to political action--a rejection of capitalism or Vietnam or communism or whatever is oppressing you--but consciousness itself. The narrative disruption signifies a chance to wake up into the real even if just for a moment as the egoic brain scuttles to find another illusion to bury itself in. The UFO equivalent might be seen in the 1947 Roswell crash. The first newspaper account said "Flying Saucer crashes in New Mexico" - but then the 'ego' - government officials- rush in to bury the 'reality' of alien visitors with a fabrication about a weather balloon. The disinformation boys have been hard at work ever since, but is this really a bad thing? Granted they are keeping us in the dark, but truly, as a global population, do we really need to know?

Another example would be, perhaps, the 'where do babies come from?' question of many children. It's the parent's job to keep them wondering, or pacify their mind with some idea of a stork. But the children aren't going to be satisfied with any answer but the real one. That's okay, they should be curious, intrigued, if they find out all the grisly biological details too soon it could skeeve them out. In short, the kids need a mystery, we all do. The trick of narrative disruption in Godard and Brecht is to expose the mystery, to show the pregnancy or at any rate burst the bubble of the mystery. Now that we know, that anti-narrative shock can either wake us up to a divine knowing freedom or give us a ringing fearful headache.

Godard and Brecht aren't for everyone. I can't imagine the average middle American getting much pleasure out of First Name: Carmen.  Not to sound snobby, but the breadcrumb trail is there should they want to learn more.. they can get a Godard book from the library and study up on the French New Wave, rent Breathless from Netflix and get started. Similarly the military industrial secret stasi of the UFO secret have been threatening and violent to witnesses only in situations where they perhaps saw too much--such as alien bodies at a crash site (at Roswell). They have no issue, apparently, with those on the fringes who are still following the loop de loop breadcrumb trails, still chasing Bigfoot through the woods or delving down for the Loch Ness monster. We need these mysteries. These mysteries get us ready for bigger things. Once we found out where babies came from, that sad shock of awareness signaling the beginning of the end of childhood, was both a let down and terrifying. Maybe that's what awaits us with the coming slow motion disclosure... as long as we were curious little detectives snooping through declassified documents, we were innocent and excited about the mystery. Once there can be no doubt, once we learn the whole story, then our innocence is gone forever. Tragic as that is, we're better off being the freshman in high school than the upperclassman in elementary. We're better off knowing the boogeyman is real, no matter how much sleep we lose.

Set and Setting: Top Ten Guide to 4th Dimensional Access

In meditation--seduction, transcendence, tripping or just hanging loose--set and setting are everything, and that includes what's going on between your ears, as my old AA sponsor used to say. So benefit from my experience: let the cosmic sea of self propel you forward past the moldy fabric of reality's curtain and into the space spore-infused mystic, past time, past space, past/present. These ten additions to any armchair adventurer's arsenal may save your sanity one day, or help you lose it forever, and about goddamn time! Psychonauts, prepare to shucker loose!

I should also mention the 'set' part of set and setting - the right friends. Avoid dumbfuck townies like the plague - they love to hang out with finely-tuned artists like you and me and do dumb shit like "whooo whooo woooo! what do you see, Erich?" Fuck them. Pick a small group with the care of a dog groomer.

1. "The Drone Zone" on Soma FM -- Ambient drones and ethereal calm, nonstop on web radio.
 So many web radio stations make you listen to endless pledge breaks and dorky voiced station announcements. There's still some of that on Soma, but not a lot... not enough to break the spell. In the enlightened, or oceanic state, you must surrender the channel changer, Once you've been elevated, karmic law dictates you should float them a donation and get a Soma FM T-shirt, like I did. My picture's on their web site, exhaling!


2. Light-Sound Mind Machines - Sure you can go deep via years of disciplined meditation, but if you don't have the time to tune in, quit work and join an ashram, try getting one of these groovy machines. Using synchronized light and sound they're basically auto-hypnosis tools, and man oh man. Many of them can be synced up with music to enhance the experience. I've broken through on several occasions via light sound machine connect to Charles Mingus' "Black Saint and the Sinner Lady" and Coltrane's "A Love Supreme." With the help of the light pulses, I felt my inner voice 'become' Coltrane's sax or the muted trumpet in Mingus' album. One of the things it told me in it's 'waa-waa' voice was "Erich, you're truly insane now, if you hear my voice, you're totally crazy" and all the other instruments seemed to be laughing at me! I wasn't fazed though... if you believe the hype I'm already legally insane around 10 time over.

3. Mermaid Magick Incense. Sage in the form of smudge sticks can be found at an herb store, Indian specialty shop, or new age bookshop near you... but for the deep weird mixed smells, it's worth seeking out some handmade stuff and I know no better source than the amazing and reasonably priced Mermaid Magik Incense shop. I dig the Earth Church and Dream Snake sticks and can personally vouch for the effectiveness.

My idea is, when starting out, choose one type of scent and only use it during your practices, your deep mystic journeys. That way, after a few experiences you'll associate the smell with the other world and it will be easier and easier to make the 'jump.' Since its handmade and unique to the Mermaid site you wont need to worry you'll smell it on the street or in yoga class and go insane on the spot.

4. Decor/Lighting - Don't leave newspapers, magazines, or anything too mainstream, anything with contemporary associations, lying around. If you have books around, make sure they're aesthetically unique, i.e. ancient looking tomes with exotic gilded edges. Keep most non-aesthetic food out of sight, especially meats and eggs, chip bags, etc. However, fruit looks very good in an altered state, so a bowl of ripe fruit is not only okay, it's recommended, as are plants, flowers (as long as they're not dying), etc.

The idea in this case is not to escape reality so much as remove 'triggers' for pre-set emotions and feelings. Use candles for light, no neon! Colored low wattage bulbs are okay, but the more shadows the better. Cover white walls with exotic tapestries. Keep weird art books handy on the coffee table.

5. Time - Hide the clocks! The idea is to create a sense of timeless space, and spaceless time, and any signifier of how you live the bulk of your life harnessed to the revolving orb isn't helpful. Even if you just put a tapestry or colorful bandana over the digital face of your clock radio you're on the right track. Keep time via the breath... meditate with the breath... your breathing is all you need. It's like a life vest that inhales and exhales and is always afloat, tick tock, whoosh!

6. Visual Media - Movies are a good way to wind down from a mystical experience, but not really that "positive" beforehand. Keep the TV off, way off.

But if you're having trouble coming down, may I recommend some Betty Boop cartoons? Disney's too creepy, WB to spastic and violent, but Betty is just right.

7. Cell phones off! - Don't kid yourself, they 'know' when you're being bad or good, as the aliens use cell phones to keep an eye on you. Imagine a giant grid of small pulsing lights at alien central: a sudden flash of 4th dimensional wall-breaching in a lotus-positioned voyager will light up like their switch boards like an Xmas tree. As they move in around you, the sounds of the house settling start to shift violently and weird noises outside--sirens, dogs, wind-- will speak to you, the way alien voices can interject themselves in everything from the falling of water to the stepping of jackboots.

8. Tobacco - Don't be a wuss! Tobacco is powerful medicine, and keeps any Native American spirits who may be present at a respectful distance. Know this: all plant spirits live even in the dead matter of their substance - their DNA writhes through you - every inhale of a plant's dried essence is a marriage. Let your mind be a garden, full of divine sage, mighty morphin' power tobacco, and crazy jester tetra-hydra cannibinol. Side effects may include: hastened death, prolonged respiratory illness, and yellowed teeth, but do you really want to live forever and hold America back with your knee-jerk atomic age fears, the way the elderly voting bloc are holding us back today?

9. Krishna Das - If things get too weird, turn to the music of Krishna Dass, who's moody mellow baritone voice will rock you back into harmony. (I especially love his "Mountain Chalisa" off
Flow of Grace) Part of accessing the inner daemonic realms involves getting through the daemonic TSA checkpoint... these demonic security guards don't just make you take off your coat and shoes... your memories, beliefs, and body have to be ripped away and shredded before your very eyes while you struggle to act cool. If you so much as sniffle in protest or fear they'll rip you up and kick you back down to the 3-D plane... so... love the demons who rip you to shreds.

Accept your own mortality and the transience of all things. Do this and you'll be floating through the metal detector and onto paradise before you know it. The voice of Krishna Das is the closest thing yet to a life vest in this instance, floating you beyond their thorny reach. One listen to that baritone mix of manly sorrow and unearthly joy and you feel safe, loved, and safely entrained to the immortal AUM.

10. Water - Drink a lot of it, and tea! I'm shooting off this figure off the top of my head (or other), but I'd bet a good 70% of mind-expansion-related mishaps (i.e. the kids who wind up shivering in the corner or taken to the chill-out tent) occur because of dehydration.

So... this post isn't meant to condone any form of substance ingestion, nor is it one of those dopey tirades against it. Don't trust the pundits on either side of the issue. No one path fits all. Research and make your own informed opinions. If it calls to you, go for it...if it doesn't, don't, and in either case, don't let peer pressure influence you against your better judgment. This shit's not for everyone. If you don't feel 'the call' don't answer the phone.

Most importantly, don't let some gooey mediator creep between you and the direct and personal realization of transcendental spiritual experience! Many will try if you let them - search for a guru and one appears - takes your worldly goods and disappears. Follow the inner voice that leads you to the light, and be careful it's not a trickster in disguise.

Using all the above steps, and after enough meditation on the AUM - you just might feel the electric hand of God on your shoulder. Isn't that better than some smelly bible at a smelly old church, with a smelly old priest droning on andzzzzz?

Remember, just be yourself, your real self --not the self the dorks who tell you to be yourself think your self is. You were only ever water and air - a cloud that thought it was separate from the sky. In the end, you will rain or evaporate - but you do not die when disappeared. Where do you go? Exactly - you ARE the sky and the sea, like me. When you remember that fully, the sun blazes through your dark purple center and evaporates your ego until all that's left is a recording of "Masie" and, behind that, a cosmic message you long forgot (that's a 2001 reference).

But though you may court insanity, try to be physically safe! Only venture outside when you're already in the 'zone' so you know you can handle crossing the street and make sure you're with other people who can watch out for you- you'll be as liable to wander into traffic as a six month-old puppy.

And believe me when I say this: you cannot fly. xoxoxo

---- guest writer Dr. Morphius "Twillie" Twilite, the X / 2009

The Cheshire Cat Style

What is the difference between hallucinations and waking life? Are dreams the third eye vision of alternate realities?

Take the Cheshire Cat for example which exists with 'just a smile' now there are many ways to interpet this, some very literally, like the EXORCIST: THE VERSION YOU'VE NEVER SEEN, some less so.

What about the audio?

I've had episodes where my own thoughts were spoken to me by the crazed horns in Mingus’ Saint and the Sinner Lady album. The repeating squawks now becoming a human voice, my voice, our voice, The Voice, for it has always only been one voice. Mingus will drive you mad as the tension builds the drama increases up and up and up until you have to tear the headphones from your ears but you suddenly have no hands to do that with, you are erasing yourself with each passing bar because your attention is not focused on the matrix, on the reality of the day, you are having your freak out where you look at your arm and all you see is electromagnetic radiation  coalescing into what you knew was an arm.….  in advance.

This is the gravy moment, the near death coasting where all us trippy artists got to go visit at least once in awhile. Where thought and expression become one thing, to say is to create, to hear your own voice emerges in the sound of the tree falling the the woods. You think in rain, and breathe in wind. The fear God is to be killed by God to love god is to be god, to hide is to disappear to die is to be reborn to panic is to drown to love is to be absolved and to chant and pray is to help the wheel itself keep spinning. And then there is a sudden break and just the bass and piano are left and the song ends and you realize only three minutes have gone by.

The 100 year-long MP3

I dreamed I was given a hundred year long song on an mp3. It felt liberating. I would not have to make any future jukebox selections in this lifetime, it was going to outlast me, it proved there had to be time for not only it to play out but to have been made. My ego couldn't fail to admit it - the world didn't begin and end with me, if lucky and depending on when I received the mp3, I could maybe hear 3/4 of it. And then of course, somewhere I knew someone was listening, to not only this 100 year-old mp3 but others. The truth about the universe seeped past my defenses in that moment, and the little tornado that thought itself alone was unwrapped back into the sky.

Each drug leaves its card, and steals something on its way out. They give their estimates, they do their magic tricks. After years they begin to repeat themselves. Some are like dogs all crazy that you hang onto their leash as they tear out the door and you just hope you're wearing water skis. Others are sullen and mopey and good for little except whatever it takes for you to not kick them out. If you cut them from your regimen, they mark up the floors with their switchblades so at least you know they were there. And others still are wise and enigmatic and if you didn't learn the last lesson before coming back, they scare you to death with threats and clockwork stabbing motions. All eventually wear out their welcome, for our ego is a restless and impatient host, forever singling out one or another of the guests as the sole reason the party's not going great.

Most people have no idea what's truly involved. Most people can't imagine sacrifices beyond relatives and possessions, and pets sacrificed on altars. It's the who who is sacrificed for involvement in enlightenment to be complete. You alone will be left to pat the final piece of earth around your grave. If you can imagine patting down your own grave, and imagine being the other mourner who finally walks away, then you are halfway to being on your way back home from death, but first, there is the blackness and no amount of running will speed the slow revolution of the black marble.

The process of moving, that is changing your address and packing up your shit and letting the post office know, is as close as many of us come to that level of total involvement. Not even our own death or a loved one's can be as drastic a step.  But the more resistance and panic you have towards moving, the more sloth-like and attached you have become, obviously! You've grown into the wood and the walls and ages from now they'll bring in special spectrometers to look for your ghost. Show us a sign! Or begone.

The enlightened one leaves no ghost, no shadow, no footprints, no feet. His skeleton hangs in every science class, his skull is used for ancient ceremonies, his eyes are suns in distant lands. "His" eyes. That's not even right, for the possessive can no longer apply. His eyes are ours and, when we give ours up to the worms and the smoky sky, his are what we shall see through. But who can give up his own eyes? Imagine yourself wrapping up all your possessions for the movers. The movers come and take all your stuff and leave you with nothing, not even money, they take your shoes and throw you into a street that is empty. And if you can then whistle a tune as you walk away, thou art saved. Or homeless. There is no difference.

Bergman from Beyond

Is it a coincidence that the mysterious 'portal' of "Desteni" looks so much like a Bergman character herself? She's got thousands of videos up on youtube. Her hair cut is about the only discernible evidence she ages. She's a little pixie combination of the young boy in PERSONA and Bibi Andersson. On the one hand I'm vaguely enthralled. On the other, vaguely ennervated. Watch too many of her weird 'interviews' and you get the feeling you've simultaneously learned the secret of life and been subjected to a 20 hour performance art piece by your precocious niece who may or may not be trying to get you to join some Scientology-ish UFO cult.


(NOTE the videos posted here originally were deleted, and now exist only in Spanish with subtitles. Not sure what that means as far as Destini being too phony for Nortamericanos or not. But I found some, so here be what I can find).

And Bergman comes back through her to say howdy!! "I'm in HEAVEN! I'm alive but... in a different way." Needless to say, if you are positive it's NOT Bergman's spirit talking through her then are you really less dogmatic than someone who is positive it is? Don't dwell in absolutes, my friends! There are none. Be like Charles Fort! Be like Sherlock Holmes! Be like Carl Jung. In this case I'd advise being very Jung, for regardless of your vote, the whole Bergman Nordic blonde waif death connection is fascinating in and of itself, an example of the gray area where art, death, blondes, and the Unknown all meet.

But I'm impressed by the sheer volume of information coming out of this Nordic alien-looking portal chick, and the way you think well, if anyone would come back from the grave to say "Hi! I'm not sad anymore!" It would be the man who gave us CRIES AND WHISPERS, PERSONA, THE SILENCE, and PASSION OF ANNA. Oh and so many more!