As always, I have pretty much virtually NO idea what’s going on with my ACTUAL LIFE. 2 wit, AND, Upon setting out to make this series, I HAD speed and consistency. Then, and for reasons I can only nebulously describe, things changed. I’ve spent the interim, something like two full weeks,, not busking / but like one or two days. I feel/felt/am FEELING that I was kind of run out of Boone, as I Was in Boulder; like some bearded weirdo in one of those Sergei Eisenstein Soviet films. not a good thing. A scary thing. And, in the greatest sense, ANNOYING. The short of it, keeping with my recent need to keep my politics in my pants and my mouth about as shut as it’s ever been. In a nutshell, and coincidentally at a time when squirrels are in FULL F^$%, I have come to see that, as mentioned in my other series, Terrorism and Surveillance, that I have for reasons still weird to me, am a sort of FEDERAL target. People try and implicate me all the time, and I meet so many people asking the same questions. There’s so much more to it than that, so I’ll leave it at this. But yeah, I have been running from THE POSSIBILITIES, kind of like how some people move away from those truly insane folks in line. you know, when they start talking about justified abuses and things like aliens–with a straight face. I currently liken my situation to the very same described in the COINTELPRO documents and programs of the 1960’s. I know for a fact that my moving in with Allan the Fat Moron was not a legitimate endeavor. And I speculate that much more, aka many more of my life’s ills, have to do with this line of thinking. I believe this all began in the latter half 2021. But, certain things lead me to believe that it all goes a bit further back. Either way, I’m ready to move and leave this crap behind me. And, yes, that’s a bit of a plea to the assholes probably actually following me around. As mentioned aloud,,, at a desolate camp recently, one with like three brightish lights pointed at the ONLY exposed portions of my car, in which I was sleeping, “y’all have seen my [JOHNSON CITY], so many of you; and I’ve not seen one real-life, G-Man, Dick.” And, yes, dick CAN mean a detective, so deal with the abrasiveness in all the possibilities for now. While I’m at it, though, let me write like I don’t care about the length of a paragraph. Something like Infinite Jest. And speaking of that book, dude, Justin, there was probably a campaign to ruin my life and alienate me when I first started living in my car. So, sorry Justin. Sorry J-Ray. Sorry… All of you. Rick too. It sucked to lose so many friends right before I graduated as a MATH DOCTOR. Now, I’m just a tired target who thinks the surveillance state has gone way too far, the deep state so dark as to fall in line with that thing separated on the first page of the Bible. Which I have been reading. I’ve been doing THAT. Well, this and not some other things. In essence, I’m off pretty much everything bad in my life. Except, and this is a BIG ONE: mi antagonista.
Now, to hell with all that and such.
I’m here to focus on me for a bit. Not, on those who scare me with their military cohesion, weaponry, and idiot possibilities. Still, I cannot believe that this stuff truly exists. And this is in spite of whatever I’ve been through. The presence of ONE UNDESERVING TARGET is so very unfortunate.
So, busking it is. Even if I haven’t been doing that.
Because AND MAYBE EVEN ONCE AGAIN… to call a non-concept to mind is to call to the very same the concept itself. What do you think of when I say NOT ICE CREAM? That’s what I thought… ICE CREAM. So, my life is NOT BUSKING. And that means something about my relationship, with busking. For now, this means my proofing what’s been already written below. Then, in Part 3; my writing about my life during these past two weeks.
AN HORSE
A HISTORY
NONE OF IT MAKES ANY SENSE,
man
Well, I’m back. And only after so little a length of time. At this rate, I MIGHT just post a new one of these with something like consistency. Maybe even accurACY???? Accidental CAPS and I don’t care. Why? Because I usually don’t. as you hopefully-likely already know. But, in case you don’t, an attempt was made to scam me the other night. Many red flags were raised, LOL.LOL passive verbiage. The chick, excuse me: baddie, excuse, lady, excuse me, whatever, made a point to pass my path several times before committing to what was probably a prepared speech. At first, I was absolutely enamored by her existence. Then, not even a day later, I essentially hated her. Because, as is common with other neurodivergents, it takes me some time to understand things. Usually. In this case, she (and before her, her partner in crime, a man I had seen many times before, had previously thought GOOD ENOUGH to be friends with) set up shop near my busking rig. Made it seem like she could be INTO ME, could possibly be an ACTUAL PARTNER. Now, before I sound too hopeless, a little bit too romantic perhaps; let me get to the point. Well, she hung out and he hung out. At first, there was nothing wrong with our evening. I saw no issues and merely sat to listened to each of them ramble a bit. I, at least on this occasion, choseTH NOT to ramble.
SHUT. THE. Fraternity. UP.
And this is great, man, because it allowed me to listen to these two like a cop. I have been WATCHING cops, and no I do not mean this in any weird BUNDY kind of way. I don’t care enough for all of that. I’d rather stick to good things, you know. PREPARE YOUR FUCKING STATIONS MAN THIS DUDE IS HERE, THE FUGITIVE IS HERE, AND HE’S POSSIBLY HIGH AND MIGHT EAT AN ENTIRE BAG OF CHIPS, MAYBE TOO, EXCUSE ME TWO, WHATEVER, TOO, something; something, Truman Show. The dark version. Moving. On.
EXCUSES IN MOTION
LIPS A FLAPPIN’ — COGENTLY
WHATEVER THAT MEANS
For years, I thought “cogent” meant something else entirely. And, after something like more than a month, maybe even six, Lauren–and there’s that name again–finally made me privy to my misuse of language. And for this, she is STILL cool. And only this. Kidding. I know you might read this; I forgive you (and ONLY you) for not telling me. I believe that you’re not ALLOWED TO. dot dangle. I can feel this, in my spine;s spine. I took the word to mean COOL but in reality it means, like, you know, INTELLIGENTLY COOL AND SHIT. There I go cursing again. For some reason teachers aren’t supposed to be entirely human. We, I guess, are expected to NOT do this, NOT do that. You know set an example. One like, almost everyone does THIS THING, but you MUST do it THIS way. I have spent years being a teach, and if you have too, then you should know what I mean. And this is not at all me being cynical. Typically, cynicism is a sign that SOMETHING isn’t right, SOMETHING hasn’t been OK. I can tell, as usually, if we chase the cynical thoughts down a bit, we come, to see everything so darkly. Call it the gut’s response to everything being GOOD. Life, well. I won’t bring any of this down any further. I will, instead, continue with what the hell I was trying to talk about.
HERE’S TO TRYING
EVEN WHEN you know for a fact YOU’RE BEING TARGETED
for no reason
AT ALL
- and notwithstanding whatever the hell they’re telling you about me.
This is NOT my Terrorism and Surveillance series, but yeah, that stuff gets in the way. Still, to this day, some months later, and a bunch of therapies in? Yes, I shall answer myself. If only to seem insane and so to have some of the weirder individuals I come across to, go the other way. Now we’re Twaining. This is all so freaking Twaining. Mark was a bad ass. I do not mean most Marks. I know so many shit-ass Marks. But, if your name is Mark and you’re reading this, and I actually know you, then maybe just assume, even if just for right now, that I actually like you. Remember, like I said in the Part 1 of this series: I am one cold ass dude. I didn’t use these words, but seriously, I’m about as cold as the best of cold sandwiches. Yet, I still have to proof these things. I still have to proof my own life. I CANNOT, I have learned, just sit by and hope for the best. THAT doesn’t make any careers. It makes the couch and too much sleep, makes for that red-headed woman with the freckles on Fourth Street in the trailer park I grew up in. When I would go to this place, because my friend’t mom, whom I now be older than, was definitely younger than I am now. Am I even paying ANY ATTENTION AT ALL, here? Probably not. But. Butt. There I go.
STILL LIFE
NEED NOT BE
forget it
So, she’s there, trying to get me to feel for her, not because love is kind and beautiful and the way that humans have been acting THIS WHOLE TIME. But, because she was probably trying to get out of trouble of her own. yeah, let’s take some of the trouble(s) of an actual TROUBLE-MAKER [tm] and distill-transfer-whatever it to SOMEONE WHO HAS DONE NOTHING WRONG. Either way, I sat and fell lovely in love with this woman, listened to the way her words came out of her head, her mouth too. I was glued. Hooked. She had successfully conned me when it comes to this. Then, eventually, I could tell. She asked to hold a bag I keep money in. She had removed the tea bag from a tea she had gotten me, presumably to poison the drink or something*. I don’t know why I allow this stuff. Maybe I don’t know any better. But,
I KNOW.
And I will keep saying this.
I really DO know.
*some of this, and not just the poisoned drink stuff, is conjecture and may be nothing more than mere entertainment. I’m not making any of the important details up, though. My wish here is to present details and “conj’” a bit less.
A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN
HOLDING A SNAKE
ET TU ME HEARTO
-CORAZON
As the night progressed, and grew late (so as to shift my sleep schedule, thus affecting my capacity for busking — THERE’S THAT WORD, FINALLY.), she became progressively more obvious in it all. To wit, she, for absolutely no reason whatsoever, especially given that she had gone on for so long about how I was doing the community a service, was kind, and had great energy. Yeah, in spit of all that, she felt the need to pull out a knife, show it to me, and go on about how if it came down to it, she would use the knife. This. This is where I knew for sure. I could tell that she was a plant, was there gain/exploit my trust. In general, women who seem into you and who rave about you etc. DO NOT feel the need to bring weaponry and make comments of said weaponry, to a walk. A simple walk. No, it wasn’t. I know. I can see it. Still, I entertained the whole thing. I “went along” with it. And this meant watching these people LIKE A COP. I have been around ACTUAL DETECTIVES lately, and have made a point, like I said above, to emulate their reasoning sides as much as possible. As for all the right-wing they’re killing the country but that’s cool BS, yeah, that’s where diverge, bro. Bro, we diverge. See, it’s just a prank! See, the cameras over there. And now, over there, and there, and there too.
SURVEILLANCE:
as fear,
FROM ABOVE
you.
Now, how, how the hell is THIS about busking???
I will, I swear to you, get to the damn point. This IS about busking. I WAS busking when all this happened. It HAPPENED to be a very good night for me financially, but… the good comes with the bad. Jesse Redux. 2 Point 00. By the end of the night, my gut was full of potential, for rejection. I felt, in absolutely no uncertain terms, that I HAD TO SAY GOODBYE TO THIS PERSON. I had liked them way too much to let this slide easily. I could tell that someone, some force was paying people to come into my life, if only to scam me. And no, I am not mentally ill. I am supposed to seem, and therefore look that way, but that’s not at all true. I can see the coins they put in my hat, the very same missing from my car, but super scratched up. yeah, intimidation. Assholes. And this is actually going on, truly happening. As such, I am in a state often referred to as COUNTER-SURVEILLANCE. My lane changes are wild. And, in spite of this, I can see certain cars doing the same. I know.
IMAGINE A PROGRAM SO DESPICABLE
THAT…
just picture it.
So, I’m busking in spite of fake love. In spite of all the “bumper locking.” And the gay dudes. Oh Yeah, the Parkway is literally full of gay dudes. I should know. They drive around and around and around and about, my car, staring at me, sizing me up, and until recently, I thought they were out to rob me. But, then, I saw the gay stuff. Either way, yeah, the parkway is great place to meet like really clean-looking , dudes. I literally don’t personally know, but yeah. Busking. And people. Most of the time, it’s all good. The people are positive, and not always for their capacity for scamming. Proofed this like super quickly, and laughed so hard at it all. Am laughing hard AF on my SECOND proofing too. I didn’t [see] the gay stuff. I just kind of inferred it like the wind. It also helped that a cop buddy told me about the gay stuff. Alright, I’ll chill the F out and move on. So, almost always. ALMOST ALWAYS. There’s the smiles and the kids, the musicians eager to point things out, and even everyone else. There’s so much good in this world, and so much that isn’t bad too, but BAD THINGS HAPPEN. Even to good people. For all I know, I am being antagonized by SOME OTHER GOVERNMENT, or, SOME OTHER THING i DO NOT YET UNDERSTAND. I’m just kidding. The whole thing, since the very beginning, fit the COINTELPRO program that sought to make cool figures (who happened not to VOTE RIGHT) die as soon as possible. They say these programs are NO TOUCH. yeah, right. Then why is all my stuff covered in small marks I never made. I have not lost my mind or memory. I have not lost those things.
I JUST MADE PLANS TO MEET UP WITH A COP
they know, too.?.
Even if… whatever. I’m gonna lose my audience with all this worried-ass stuff. Still, why did I hear clear as day: “He’s coming back” when I was camping? Why do people keep coming into my life ONLY TO DISTRACT ME? I can see this. I can tell when they say things like, “let’s go a little bit further.” ALL OF THEM have done this. Now, busking. Shit. I’m losing myself. I’d like to just busk and do drugs and take dips in unauthorized swimming pools. No drugs. Either way: I have been to exactly two protests: one right-wing, one left-wing. As such, they shouldn’t be bothering me. Most people, though, don’t. Most people make me feel good and so keep me “driven, positive, and nice.” As, I have. Been. So, most days/most people are cool. I have made some VERY DECENT cash. I have met some of the coolest people. I know it’s COMPLETELY NORMAL to want to do things with your friends. But, I can tell when you WANT TO SPEND EVERY SINGLE MINUTE AWAY FROM CAR, INSTRUCT ME TO NOT TELL OTHERS IT’S MINE, TO PARK IT OUT O’ SIGHT, TO LEAD, like the “hot chick plant” said, ME AWAY FROM LAUREN. Lauren is my friend, has been for years. She’s a great person to have in your life. But, this woman from the other night, the one I am saying (I think) attempted to scam me, based on all the factors I observed [AS DETECTIVE], sought to separate me from Lauren. I noted this immediately. So, I spent the night pretending that I didn’t see it. In a manner something like Autism. Or future-oriented personage.
TOO MANY BIRDS
— MAN // $%%
Whatever you wish to call it, I guess the point of this thing is QUICKLY becoming about the other night. About LOVE, too. Had I thought to make this the point at the outset, things might be too organized by now. Recall, I started the last one with a definition that took something like 10 pages to finally extirpate from my guttage. Or, as I often say to the students:
“Or whatever they say.”
Invariably, I say this directly following a string of high-level phrases that HAPPENED to come out THE RIGHT WAY, sounding cool as alpha-F to those who PAY ATTENTION. I am not calling myself cool. I am referring to myself as a PERSON OF LUCK. Then, whatever. I’ll stop! but, before doing so, let me note here, that this thing might actually be about perseverance, and worry, and other things of the mind that stand to get in the way. Things like becoming depressed at a woman pulling one over on you, which I didn’t do. I, instead, took some time to determine that it was her who chose to be that way. And, even if for some remote ass reason, she’s not actually the fucking devil, then yeah, I still saw so many flags. She mentioned having broken part of her car in a minor fit of passion. She talked about wanting to cut things. Dude, yeah. I’ll keep [PHALLIC SYMBOL] like ten legions away, whatever that means. Once again, I might sound crazy. but, I have read virtually everything available on the relevant programs, and dude, it fits like a glove. It IS possible that personal vengeance is at play here. But, to me, and my gut, and my feelings, and everything else too, I see the program. I note how people turn away, usually after I’ve said something sinister as fuck in my own personal vehicle. And, yes, I can sound QUITE sinister // IN MY OWN VEHICLE
PRIVACY
as a collection of socks all
,,, missing their counterparts
Have you heard, I could relevantly ask, the sounds that bees and flowers and lawnmowers make? It’s chaos. It’s pretty damn sinister. And, if we were, for some reason, granted access to the sounds of rocks and things like that, we’d probably find that they’re capable of sounding sinister. I mean one rock falls and breaks another rock, which had stayed cool for like 300 million years. And then, right there, and well enough in front of you, it breaks. Yeah, I don’t think the rock is going “this is OK with me, stalk me please, put damages into my things, and intimidate me like I’ve murdered a billion fucking cats. bats. Who cares. I haven’t done that. Any of it. Now, will it be possible, for now, to fall in love? These people are literally ruining my trust in just about everyone, as they are apt to do. What the hell, man?
MAN
WOMAN
TRANS
Deal with it. I sounded great today. I really sent it. I started at something like 9 AM, and people still tipped me. I was, of course, very angsty about the whole thing, and so took to doing things that Don Rickles would do, if he had been blessed with a better voice. And a better face, too, I think. The dude looked like a dinosaur. Tell me again that they’re gone. They are not. Well, now they are. But they weren’t — as long as Mr. Rickles was making fun of LITERALLY EVERYONE. So, this is about how the mind works, how I deal with being upset. I thought at first that this ISN’T how I should approach this piece. Peace to THAT. Peace be unto EVERYONE ELSE. “Do you want me to watch your car, so you two can go a little bit further?” No, I said, I do not want that. So, I was busking when two people that I thought I knew came up to make my life worse. Naturally, I sent a message highlighting the fact that I knew. I will reproduce that message in the event that I am asked to do so. Ultimately, I said something about them being scum, not really worthy of the label human. These [PRINCES OF SOME RARE LOCALE, IN AFRICA suck. I mean the regular ones kind of suck too, especially if they’re not ACTUALLY any kind of prince and/or prince lineage, as these anti-saints weren’t.
OR WHATEVER THEY SAY
I am here, now, having just busked this morning, and having written lyrics on a bench yesterday, doing OK. I feel fine, considering especially that I have firm and sufficient reason to believe that I am a victim beyond what people should be victims like. Someday, this will be how people will write. If only because it works, sometimes. Have I been travelling, doing multi-city days? No. Why not, Ryan? Well, because I have not been inclined, to do. I have stuck to one city recently, a city as yet which has tremendous amounts of my affection, one BUTT, I may have to say goodbye to soon. If I really am being antagonized in the manner I have as yet described, then yeah, I should make it harder and more resource-taxing on them. I should create new technologies (ex. highly-exotic and reasonably impossible encryption schemes)to get out of this mess. To wit, I seriously came up with several inventions to this end recently. Have I constructed these things? No. That wouldn’t make any sense YET. I have only been too pissed off, not too far to come back from. Maybe they think they’re HELPING ME because I am doing so well, both mentally and musically? No, you’re making my life worse. I was on a path to do this music thing when this all started. I SHOULD have continued to do that. THAT. This was not needed, never, ever, never necessary.
NECESSARY
and
SUFFICIENT
not the same thing
BUT MAYBE IS TO CERTAIN UNDERGRADUATES
No, I will no judge you. Not too hard, at least.
I really liked you.
WHY????
I’ve been here an hour and a half, and have only written 6 pages. Only. What IS wrong with me? Right now, you know. Tomorrow, who ever knows. Life is not all bad. As I sit here and remain flooded with hurt feelings or at least with the feeling that my feelings SHOULD be hurt, I recognize, as I was unable to do until recently, that I am focusing on the negative. There’s so many smiles in reality for that. This, is not a good idea. If you worry too much, and spend too much time BEING NEGATIVE, you’ll become a piece of shit. I should know. Tim Robinson should know. “I used to be a really big piece of shit.” Do I mean this literally, no? No. I do not. I mean that we live our whole lives hopefully not trying to ruin the lives of others. Things, from time to time, don’t go that way. I do feel bad about how Katie and I left things, though I cannot recall, here in proofing, which Katie I mean.
STOPPED HERE, to take a dump. Apparently, I’ve given up. On EVERYTHING.
Except, busking. Except, my true friends. Except, good people. I will NOT lose my youth. I will never let you take what separates me from the others. I do not know why you would seek to do this, but you have and so I have to spend words here getting you to understand a thing you cannot. Abusers often do not understand what they’re doing. They can tell that parts of it are wrong, maybe even that they shouldn’t be doing what they’re doing, but as far as wholesale seeing their abuse for what it is. They won’t. As such, leave them behind. Let them abuse someone else. Well, don’t actually let them do this, but you know what I mean. Let me get back to making myself look like shit, by listing certain things I feel bad about. That way, you COULD venture to view me accurately. And not under any false notions of things I have never thought to do. There ARE some parts of my relationships I wish didn’t happen. I wish that I was better at communication when Lauren and I were dating. I haven’t actually taken that dump. I keep writing an looking weird and, JAZZ. I feel a bit like jazz right now. The tensions are all super weird and extended and having so many notes that MUTT COULD apply. And so here, it does. And this is who you’re after? A guy talking about dumps and using too many curse-words and unable to stay on task, but very much remaining the wrong kind of focused.
So, I feel bad about all those times I sought to make Kelly jealous. Girlfriends have done this to me, but sometimes I do it too. Either way, I feel bad about that. These are the things I have to feel bad about. Now, here’s to making this thing so night-lite, so lighted, so much like lightning; that you MIGHT ACTUALLY TURN AWAY FROM ME. Let me tell you one thing that I DO NOT feel bad about. Something that I believe had something to do with why I am so bothered. And this, of course, will alienate SO MANY PEOPLE. Sometimes, and I am not sure why; I put on. No, I will not give you ALL OF IT. I will leave this both stated and ambiguous. I once made a short film in which I played a female character. I do not, for this little fact, consider myself trans. Did we consider Patrick Swayze trans for doing Too Wong Fu? No, he went on to remain beloved, et DUDELY. Because the rich weren’t as scared as they are now, then. But, sometimes, if only because I am what is often referred to as an OMEGA MALE. And these kinds of people don’t give a shit about your being afraid of more liberated others. I, once again, do not consider myself trans. Neither does my therapist, I think. She says, “it seems like a hobby to me.” yeah, a weird ass hobby but one that sometimes helps us to understand certain others about us. besides, that shits all “cotton,” so fuck off.
So, I have worn a dress. Deal with it. I’m still like 50 thousand times more a man than you’re. I sincerely DO NOT CARE what you think. The point of this piece is to let my mind out, to ramble its way to a point, something of an understanding/. So, I feel bad about certain things. But, I have never done anything SUPER ILLEGAL. No CSAM. No cybercrime. No white-collars. I literally don’t even think like a criminal. I fail to see the angles. I am too honest. And, if this is not how I am being painted to you, then maybe think about using different brushes, ones that don’t wish so badly to destroy me. Continuing. I am rapeless. I’ve not killed much. You know, outside of bugs and the occasional rodent, and the even less occasional raccoon, with my car, in the middle of night, in Upstate New York, so many years ago. So, if they have any clips of me sounding like a lunatic, then perhaps consider that I am not actually that. I sometimes don’t feel well. but, I am not a criminal. [DELETED POLITICAL THINGS]. Just turn on the news. Then, hopefully soon thereafter, turn that shit off. You’ll find that: War is Peace, Freedom is Slavery, etc. I could have just listed the last one. You know, how some people will start something that sounds like a list, only to realize they’re too item-deficient, having only one or to examples and so not really a list at all. not much of one ,,, anyways.
LISTS OF LISTS
IN R
WHAT R?
Busking. Shit, this is SUPPOSED to be about busking. If I had to venture to guess, you’re still with me. I know because this is the sentence where I say it. Either way, continue to look away, continue to listen to shady [curse-word] gov-goons. I once asked a dude following me where the city we were both in was, just to see what he COULD try and say. It’s fun to trip people up. I asked another suspected dude if he had seen anyone messing with my car, and he answered a completely different question. nice try. I can see this stuff. I could tell when it was happened in Colorado. I can tell about it now. Guitar. Vocals. Having to watch out.
“I once knew a guy like that, who was always surveilled.”
YES, A COUPLE SAID THIS AS THEY ONCE PASSED MY CAMPSITE
WATCHING OUT
cameras you didn’t see me plant; people you didn’t know would tell me
LOL
got you.
But, yeah, let’s call it THAT GIRL. yeah, that’s what allowed me to see. Let’s go with that. And NOT those few random strangers who said things like:
“Dude, they just swarmed your car.”
to me.
I DIDN’T EVEN need TO ASK who THEY was.
So, THIS has been a HARD week(S). Not really stressful as much as annoying. I have busked a few days and have spenT THE OTHERS WRITING. Sometimes, I wonder if this is even my sentence. Is it? Sometimes, when I am writing a song, I have no idea where the stuff is coming from. I guess that’s not all that different from how this whole writing thing works. Writing, that is. Is. Today, is. An event. BuskersFest in Boone, North Carolina. I haven’t paid the fee, and didn’t reply to the waiting list message (because of the fee), and everyone is a little weird and this could be because of being tired or just because of actually being bothered. Still, I want to go, and so my plan IS TO SNEAK THE [hell] INTO THE THING. I have been assured that if they try and give me trouble, the cops will pay the fee. I would have to pay it back, but still, it’s good to have a GET OUT OF TROUBLE FREE card. If only because of data, and even then, if only because I was chased out of Colorado by [INSERT ASS-HOLES) And YES that’s meant to be a partially open set. I woke up this morning, before writing the sentence before — and wrote an actual book CHAPTER to an actual bible. I had had a conversation with a couple of POTENTIALLY PLANTED Christians, decent ones, ones who really knew their stuff. Like me for math, but with God. But either way, there we were having these conversations about God an religion and all that stuff. It had not occurred to me previously that things could go that way, that believing could make so much sense. Still, I will always doubt. But, and why:
The Book of Ryan for the Modern Testament.
LOOK PAST THIS DISTRACTION
KEEP LOOKING
WHAT _ WAS _ ME SAYING?
The singing voice. All the other talents. Once again, I could just be tired. It could just be tiring having an overpaid and utterly overly complicated campaign against you, for laws never broken and reasons never stated. And, you know, all these others reasons too. The tired mind is allowed to write like this. If only. If only because I’m still writing. Some people cannot even bring themselves to write, or do this or that, or anything, I guess. Some people do that. But not me. Butt. What? Yes, but, think often about how these talents got into my mind and body. I envision some alien somewhere doing some THING we can’;t understand, and not even just YET, all to control some monkey a literal billion miles away. Then there’s God. Which, if just do to time, is a reasonable enough solution to what may be there. Either way, I spent the morning in a sort of divine, weeping state. I wrote like two pages of a new book from a new bible, and that’s cool as… I am not going to give up on cursing, though I have chosen for logical reasons to exclude it from the MODERN TESTAMENT. And yes this is what I am calling the thing. Have I gone insane, or am I just oddly healthy enough to write a bible. What the actual, Bible. What have I called this new book within this overall strange collection? And, before I even seek to answer that, let me just say, YES, i KNOW THIS SOUNDS BRUTALLY INSANE. And that’s hilarious. I could just be going along because I’ve always wanted to “spend a year as a secular pastor; well not really secular, but like hidden in actual plain sight, acting as an actual pastor.” And this, dude, is like pretty much what I said.
But here, and according to the past 24 hours, I have actually been thinking about it. Not being the fake thing, but writing bibles and shit. Deal with it. I COULD litter the thing with cursing and that would still be the book, even if no one really likes it. I bet most books are like this. But, this “blog” is about busking and today is busker’s best and I’m tired and this might be the plan and I may be going on a bit too much like Hemingway. I know, the Heming—–Way. So, yeah, this thing is supposed to be about busking. At first, I think it was. Then, I lost all marbles. Every single marble was gone. As such, I have no damn clue were this ship is going. It COULD end up porting in an entirely galaxy for all that IT has going. Or, I could end here. I could talk before doing that about how I spent the evening watching Before Sunrise last night, if only to rebound from the aforementioned and as yet probably always unnamed women of the other other night. So, yeah, I sat downtown and watched a movie. I looked a lot like a “bum.” which I thought was VERY COOL. Then, I met those Christians and then this morning, when I started for some reason writing biblical stuff. Now, lest this sound the bona fide life or a bona fide creep-weirdo, let me assure you that I have been keeping up with life, have been going to therapy, taking a few medicines, and all that. I wake up and see things logically. And still, there’s writing a bible and sitting downtown watching movies, looking into a fellow buskers car and saying “I know” as I drive away like I was about to rob all grocery stores ever.
How DOES this all end?
Do they one day leave me alone? And, if so, then what day is that?
Flowers grow.
PS — So, I’ve kind of gone full bore here. I essentially out myself as a (often stress/understanding induced/film necessary) dress-wearing enthusiast. And that’s SUPER WEIRD TO SOME PEOPLE. I don’t care. Also, proofing this was kind of fun. I was able, for the first time ever, to see which inflammatory portions could be cut out without selling off my soul. As students have told me: I DO NOT NEED TO SAY EVERY SINGLE THING THAT COMES TO MY MIND. I probably shouldn’t have even brought up the dresses, because of where the world is right now. But, I am not worried about this. I am still a man. I still consider myself a man all the time. And, I don’t make my person matters too public. That’s for the feds to do. BTW, as mentioned to any hot mics in my car: IF YOU SENT LIKE 14 NSA CHICKS MY WAY, WE CAN CALL THIS WHOLE THING EVEN.
PSS — Some of this is literally sarcasm. I leave it | to you to determine which parts are, and how much those things mean to you and therefore bother you. BTW, Jesus wore a dress. You know. Think about it. ROBES COULD BE CONSIDERED A FORM OF DRESS. And, just to make this all as confusing as is humanly-possible: GOOGLE’S AI SAYS, YES, A ROBE IS A FORM OF DRESS. Now, I know your mind is on fire and full of confusion and maybe even hatred, possibly some piss and more than a few hits of blasphemy. But, this is the truth of it all.
ACCORDING TO GOOGLE
PS^3 — Today is Bandcamp Friday, so please, in spite of all my ramblings and non-sensical nature, BUY MY ALBUM! I’m having trouble making money. So, please do. As Dennis says in that episode about being politicians. “So, do.”
It truly IS always sunny, somewhere.
IMAGE OF A MAN, WEARING A ROBE, HAVING A REALLY GOOD HUG ON LIKE 14 NSA CHICKS, WHICH IS TO SAY: PROBABLY ALL OF THE NSA CHICKS
NO OFFENSE
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