i’m not interested in speaking to you unless you’re willing to start a process that will add living quarters to your property.  i know you’re all paranoid about other people walking on “your” dirt and all, but the assumption here is that the property owner is imaginationally destitute regarding the productivity potential of the land.  of course you need people to do this, and they need somewhere to live.  you can build this out of trash and dirt, then grow stuff on top of it.

ask me the dumbest question you can think of.  i will answer as if it were divinely guided.

made/uploaded a video.  it’s pretty pointless. *giggle*  love needs no point.  i suppose i should send people to the profile view of the video (see how the links are different?) so they can dig around in the glorious multitude of wonderfully splendiferous music i’ve been adding as of late.  ‘course if you want to see stuff later in the playlists, the links from my website are much easier to use than the youtube profile page.  I’m a copy/paster, though.

every square inch of property is to be converted to permaculture organic survival use.  we will cobble together wind gathering instruments out of old bikes and refurbished electric motors (the electrical shop is on the premises).  we will set up water diversion swails, rain collectors and solar showers/distilleries/generators on every building.  the 20-year planting starts first.

i have some hair stuff.  adhesive.  i could charge this.  i wonder if there’s a hair dryer in this house.

does anyone in iola know anything about charging a Mohawk?  wanna help an “old man” pretty up his skull?  best case scenario would be a henna artist to cover me in swirls, flowers, lines, and sacred geometry.

if you have a job and you can tolerate/enjoy your job, keep it.  you can still join the coop, and the cash you put in (you’ll have to, you won’t have time to contribute your labor) will be used for its highest possible good.  this is the best case scenario, from the coop’s perspective anyway, for how a person would choose to participate.  their entire check goes into the coop, and they are credited for their $10/hour of labor in equity share, food, entertainment, or any other service that members contribute to the coop for the collective good.  yeah, so your doctor and lawyer would only “get” $10/hr, too, but the lives of luxury that you will all lead will be difficult to comprehend.  coordinated transport for nearly seamless location transitions, seasonal or for entertainment/project work.  no, the absolute best slave-ship-captain makes you think you’re on a luxurious cruise.  but then it’s not a slave ship any more, is it.  these are my dreams for our dear third rock.  may our mongrel species rediscover siblinghood before we require a fourth.  five is right out.

hey, if your property is for sale (as with everyone in my immediate family), you will increase the value by using the sunlight, air, and dirt to turn it into food production land.  all of the tracking and accounting gets done by database.  a few nerds work on that for a few weeks, then it’s done.  assume full knowledge.  participators populate with exclusive knowledge.  these will be some of the richest and most useful databases the world has ever seen.

the innernets no worky.  (7:53 pm).  angel cards say creative writing.  here i be.

what is left?  what have we not taught?  the in-person.  i was asked two days ago why i didn’t go to the energy fair, and I think i have a better answer now.  it severly disappoints me to see hundreds if not thousands of people together in the same place at the same time being helpless.  they get demonstrations and they get classroom discussions, and they get to find out how to purchase what should be the most basic and ingrained technology we have.  but no.  they charge money and have official “hard core” volunteers, and don’t have any buildings for me to demolish or structures that i could throw up as long as i’m in the neighborhood.  what a waste.  your failure to capitalize on that resource is a failure of creativity.  the labor is there.  the landowners must either open it up to be used, or continue to fascistly “direct” its functions to their profit-riddled varieties.  that shit’s like a sickness.  until you and all your neighbors have all the food you need within walking distance, you are diseased zombies.  yes, you.  industrial agriculture consumer, be it fast food, chotchkies, sysco restaurants or grocery stores.  90% of the food is essentially poison.  sure, the human body is highly adaptable and can accommodate a variety of fuels, but why put something in which has, at the very foundation, at its initiative thoughtform, profit, enslavement, exclusion, and death.  i’ve said all this before.

so what.  say it again.  re-word it a billion ways.  thanks, the terrified must first be taught that their ingrained acts are those of fear-stricken little rodents.  let’s have a snack.  make something with flour, no sugar.  make something with rice, no sauces.  sauce is the excess cooking water being absorbed and made into a suspension with help from different, finely ground dried plants (spices).  those goopy gels that come in plastic bottles are fucking abominations.  THAT SHIT AIN’T FOOD!!!  your ass is proof.

sodas, juices, basically everything that comes in plastic is terrible for you.  some people can withstand it better, but sensitive people like me can put on ten pounds in a month on a standard American diet (hamburger helper, frozen pizzas, sodas and salad sauces).  soak some beans.  learn about rices.  get a cheap rice cooker.  find someone nearby who has chickens and feeds them strictly organic feed, food scraps, and whatever they can find on the ground.  if you have a pile of wood, let me turn it into a chicken coop for you.  if you have a pile of rocks, let me build you an outdoor kitchen, complete with permanent solar oven.  on farms, half the cost of getting local food to market is in the harvesting.  think about it: all that water, weight, and nutrients go into the plants themselves, and the separation, proper handling, and transport uses effort, labor, fuel.  any pick-it-yourself or trade-food-for-labor will work out in the laborer’s favor, relative to retail prices.

if that helps, think of this in terms of retail prices of the highest quality food you could find on planet earth.  how much is that worth?  delicately sliced/chopped/minced/processed/baked/canned/dried/smoked/assembled into a custom, perfect-temperature meal?  these things are priceless.  i want every meal i eat to blow my mind with its deliciosity.  the novel combination of flavors or simple subtlety of unaccompanied plant-fruit is divine.  if you claim to be religious and don’t have a garden, i’m calling you out.  you are a blasphemer, a charlatan, and a money-changer if your property doesn’t produce copious amounts of food for you and your offspring.  your claim of deed keeps the simple elegant truth of self-sustaining health of us all.  your ownership is not at issue.  i’m forming a class of homeless, renters, and wage slaves.  the landless peasants are coming for you, usury chargers of future generations.  investment opportunities await, as your fat ass sits there on the couch absorbing hate and poison.

my computer’s network connections stopped showing up.  Windows update just did something.  i’m not surprised (links to business time).

ooh, i’m supposed to record a new version of FUCK YOU ALL.  that song is vicious.  or horny.  i can’t quite tell.  may, probably both.  it’s on my myspace.  it’s a free way to put music online and create connections, links, to other sounds, bands, people, music.  i don’t care about your opinions of its “relevance” because all of my favorite music is there.  i would do anything for these people.  if it weren’t for music, i would never have made it here, forced to go through life all alone.  yes, forced.  you only need be beaten into place by a teacher or alpha kid a few times before you start to realize that’s par for the course.  fall in line, weirdo!  fuck that.  i have literally spent my life studying, mainly because all the people around me give that “creepy” vibe and the single females are sternly warned to stay away and reprimanded if they don’t comply.  i do this most of the time.  fukkin’ dictator makes us say all kinds of mean shit to people we love.  why they wake him up i will never know.  dude’s a fucking dick.  when you tell the dictator to “be a man,” it’s a plea for mercy for your own life, because he’s not, “a man,” “he” is a god.  a super-human juggernaut of a legend.  Strength-wise, ten men is on the modest side.  seriously, it’s like 220 hp.  Zero fatigue.

DID I x YOUR x?  DID I SINGLE-HANDEDLY DISCREDIT THE ENTIERE STRUCTURE OF AUTHORITY, CAUSING DEATH, DESTRUCTION, AND THE WARLIKE SHIT THE LIARS CALL ANARCHY?  I was there with permission.  I ask nicely.  Don’t act like i’m a disruption.  if it weren’t for me, someone else would have fulfilled the exact same role.  be glad the gods found a former “local boy” to turn all your pristine warehouse space and parking lots into useful resources.

all this time, the dancing progresses.  our meatbot motion capabilities have unlocked special moves of divine beauty, not to mention the point multipliers.  holy fuck, the tony hawk analogies.  karmically, he has a point.  when i start dancing in front of people around here, they clique and wallflower up like a homecoming dance.  i use the word “dance” like i use the word “gender”, loosely.  a dear friend once told me of an experience in which his meatbot was propelled at high speed over a variety of obstacles.  by hitting/deflecting/glancing off of the structurally significant points that his mind identified, he avoided death when by most measures, flinging one’s fragile being against the stones, stumps, and industrial machinery of the world, by all rights, survival should not logically occur.  yet, somehow, the story was passed to me.  etc.  Namaste.

the only thing i can hire myself out as, now, is a personal assistant.  i’m a guru.  i’m a cook, a maid, a nanny, a dog walker, and a grocery(on-bike)getter.  i’ve taught some xhtml (wc3 schools link) in my day, too, but hey, that’s what google’s for!

8:45 alarm went off.  every day, i’m reminded of no less than three, and as many as 10 different girls who want nothing at all to do with my penis.  such is life.

the tony hawk analogy works for dance, too.  the skill points you earn over time?  increased balance, agility.  that shit’s totally real.  there’s no where to go but up.

with my hair in this braid configuration, it stays very nicely out of my way.  the long hair is mostly in back, so the braid going back-to-front means the longest hair only stretches to the tip of my nose if i pull the braid down.  i French-braided in some of the pathetic, feeble, receding hairs from atop my head to help keep it all in place.  i am so pickles, aren’t i?  i was thinking about letting this just dread up over my bald spots.  why the fuck not?  hair hat.  the braiding process is more complex than i have the capability to do currently, but the theory is there.  each level has a set of segmented locks of hair.  they are woven in/with the previous levels, holding in a variety of lengths and creating a pattern.  building this requires like four sets of hands much smaller than mine, agile, cooperative, and intelligent.  we’re reaching the point where the only people i am able to trust (on a certain level) are those with whom I have made physical contact.  your stars and words touch me physically, and your connected silence punishes me into profound states.  your life is pathetic and meaningless, and i’m pleased and glad that i’m the one who got to point that out to you.  i’m an admitted pothead, sex addict, regular alcohol consumer, and polyamorous porn aficionado.  i just happen to be really smart, fast, good at building things, and have a relatively large and beautiful penis.  so what.

what the fuck does any of this matter?  what has it mattered, and what will it matter if nobody fucking DOES anything.  the best ideas are there, ready, acknowledged.  people have been studying them since forever, despite the wishes of profit-driven assholes.  that’s the thing about truth.  it’s its own reward.  it has a beauty, a grace and simplicity that the overpackaged misrepresented lies can’t get anywhere near with all the –washing in the world.

if you’re at all impressed with the physical matter that i make with my hands, you should see the ethereal matter that they do.  holy fuck.  jesus FUCKSTICKS batman!  i’m flying over nyc right now.  through bridge cables.  around buildings.  fucking your favorite girl in the bathroom, on the balcony/roof, or anywhere else she can drag me for a blissful taste.  like i said, i was invited.  i don’t go places where i haven’t been invited.  it’s not in my nature.  i make it clear what type of people with whom i would be willing to share this infinite resource that is my labor, wit, imagination, and body.  none have applied.  zero contractual alterations have been proposed, and zero requests have been received for budgetary projections.  i have spoken with lawyers, architects, farmers, and numerous other businesspeople.  until the unattached human capacity makes itself visible to the landowners of the planet, peaceful proposals are not viable to the slave-master caste.  they simply do not think any more.  every single one of them is brain-dead, greedy, and poisoned to the core by bitterness, jealousy, hate, and fear.  tv-viewers.  they can afford it.

i now open bidding to grifters willing to take me under their wing.  i’m done trying to speak gently to these old farmers.  fuck ‘em.  let’s reel ‘em in by the heartstrings, hit ‘em in the pocketbook, and placate their petty egos with well-formatted numbers that explain their piece of the whole to a “tee.”  there’s no reason to put any of our collected “cash” into anything other than buying actual property back from a bank.  anything else that we need, we can make for ourselves.  we can own all of this legally, and seriously, the legitimate legitimacy is catching on.  it really is.

ll.  i like that.  not ladies love, but that too, probably.  i don’t know any “ladies”.  or, i typically refuse to apply a gender-specific word to a person unless they specifically authorize it.  it’s kind of rude.  i’m not going to ascribe my assumptions to someone, even on that level.  fuck, half or more of the people i follow on twitter (maybe less, i have no clue) are, for all practical purposes, genderless.  uhh, married, male, underage, or mean.  these are the disqualifiers.  pretty near the rest of those can consider me fair game.

blah, giggidy, blah.

the app will do it.  once the garden property-tracker app is working, people will sign up like wildfire.  it will take one growing season to recruit half the population of planet earth to use our technology.  regional tracking on a per-row-metre level?  integrated off-the-grid technology tutorial wiki, plant/seed/fruit variety wiki, digital exchange medium, transport scheduler, land/building/equipment use scheduler, upgrade tutorials.  imagine an operating system whose mission is to sustain its users, from making its own operation intuitive through teaching the most advanced and up-to-date knowledge on planet earth at the perfect pace for each individual participant.  the paths available to us are infinite to the nth degree.

of that which i have “learned” in my lifetime, my web presence connects all that i can remember, and more.  it’s a growing web.

part of me wants to do it as a virus.  set up a script that scans an entire hard drive, preserves old relevant data, categorizes and cloud-replicates it (don’t ever try to limit my use of any word.  i will destroy you), creating a data-warehouse level link between the user and the media.  yup.  my porn has my fingerprints.  so what.  besides allowing incredible social connections to be made over impossible odds, this will significantly decrease overall data-storage/transfer requirements, if managed intelligently.  it will also increase the available entertainment if shared amongst participants.  the whole question of “owned” works, copyrighted shit that corporations cheated kids out of years ago, that crap may as well be entirely ignored.  between cover versions and the current, living, performing musicians that you really ought to be listening to instead of that garth brooks tape from 1992.  it’ll increase your overall ability to appreciate life, i promise.  your mind will be expanded beyond currently recognizable boundaries, is what I’m trying to say.  in other words, nothing i can say will prepare you for how mind-blowingly fucking fantastic all of this shit is going to be and it will happen as soon as you quit clinging to your skepticism as your only means of thought.  there are other ways.  always another way.

you can ask me anything.  if you’re relatively sure i want to have sex with you, you have an open invitation to e-mail, text, or call.  yes, call.  if you want to leave a voice-mail, record a snippit on your computer and e-mail it to me.  google audacity open source audio production studio download.  or, use your application installer, if you’re smart and use linux already.  this poor baby.  why am i torturing it with windoze?  I got the most recent video up, but these 5+ pages of text ain’t going nowhere’s presently configured.  that means my internet still ain’t working.  do i step back with windows?  or, copy all my shit to the portable and wipe the fucker finally.  decisions, decisions.

the thing about installing linux is that it’s best to think of it while you have an internet connection, so’s you can actually download it.  i never want to start doing operating-system level configurations until i’m more drunk than usual.  i’ve royally fucked up my computer’s software by rash, unresearched drunkenness.  the dictator works much better with conscious humans to implement its will.  my code would somehow implode spacetime itself and “ark-of-the-covenant-bolts” would zap everyone through the third eye.  90% of Americans would be dead.  The rest of the planet would be mildly horny.

lol.  i know i’m channeling shit from the universe when that crap comes out my fingers.  remember, i’m not actually “speaking” this.  oh, you want to commission a recording of me reading something i’ve said in my own voice?  fuck you.  pay me.  i mean, i’m not free.  I’m free, for freedom and all that, but i do not do this priceless work free of charge.  nor do i tolerate the energetic hooks upon which your love seems dependent.  take that.  there is nothing upon which to cling now.  purely obscene.  offensive beyond the very concept of offense.  what’s happening in real life?  the trump cards have all been played, and are on the table or being held “of record”.

i just tweeted and face-book’d.  this is not the best vodka.  it could stand a brita filtering or two.  then, i bet it would be solid, hangover free brain freedom.  no, booze dissolves a lot of cruddies that get into the meatbot.  that shit’s very useful.  flammable?  yes.  the body “flambe’s” it all on a different level, but essentially, yes.  the alcohol burns, and allows to burn, a lot of what would otherwise clog the fuck out of many aspects of the system.  it’s a middle ground thing.  like most things, it’s actually rather difficult to over-do (its effects being so immediate and predictable), yet that has never stopped a determined human.

do any of the beings channeled here want to provide their names?  i know a good part of the reason you speak through me is the anonymity, yes?  for my personal edification, perhaps, and for those whose professional work may be similar, such data would be of increasing benefit to me.  thanks.

pick a name.  we’re it.  yes.  that one too.  the broad consensus of us can speak to you simultaneously, having contributed your thought forms so precisely to consensus-building, group-dynamic work.  so, i’m getting the word of the gods?  yep.  when i ask for it?  you gave us an open invitation, so in effect, you’re always asking for it.  is this correct?  yes.  conditioned in my acceptance was highest good for all, yes?  absolutely.  contractually, you’re highly disciplined and exquisitely precise.  this is one of the reasons we prefer working with you to the others.  what type of others.  all.  from politicians to gurus to musicians and tweeters.  what percentage of tweets are channeled, either account-exclusively or ala carte?  2% exclusively, 48% ala carte.  Really?  48%  how do you define channeling then?  highest good, honest/self/truth.  the tweets you star, plus a decent portion of brilliant males you choose to ignore.  yup. lol.  am i sexist, excluding males from my network as i do?  your balance is exquisite, as is your taste.  the proportions of aspects contained within the people you follow on twitter could have mathematicians stumped for generations.  you are a laboratory unto yourself.


i’m seeing more clearly the idea of cutting edge, the boring of our various spirals into the nothingness.  the woodworking analogies abound.  should i be other places by now?  everyone knows how to contact you.  patience.  you’ve committed energetically to a place and role to which you’re not accustomed yet.  the nature of your communal nature is this, yes.  it will work.  it is working.  your demand that all be included, that every single person willingly and meaningfully participate, that is historically relevant and novel.  source has embraced you wholeheartedly, and the support is unwavering.  unconditional.  your aims and paths are true, gentle, and non-confrontational.  you are the anti-male male and the anti-female female, balancing the gender tension of generations.  nothing is impossible now.  each of us has a graspable role.  why am i so focused on porn?  isn’t that obvious?  the meme needed adjustment, and you are phi.  fibbonacci was well at work on it well before you got there, but embraidened, beautiful children.

ask them.  join up.

this is a multi-function, multi-front, mult-layer process.  every slave is a dictator, every dictator a slave, every interviewer an interviewee, and every witness a participant.  such is the nature of archetype, such is the nature of law of attraction.  thoughforms, kiddoze.  i don’t make the rulz, i only trade ‘em!


11:17 pm. pauses recording, seeking food.

hair seems to me an incredible substance.  it’s like human spiderweb.  braid it.  save it.  use it.  why the fuck not?  i recently cut some rather sizable locks off of my own head (6” or so), and I am saving them for extensions or highlights.  my diet is frightfully healthy and organic, and my hear is a beautiful auburn red.  if anyone cares about this kind of thing, this is a precious commodity.  i want you to have it.  i want you to wear it, part of me, on your person.  at this very moment the article which reminds me of you is not here, yet it has been, at nearly every moment since its association, its discovery.  not even a year has passed since.  oh, the acceleration of time.

oh, i’m sorry.  did you want to continue being the sought-after sexpot, or were you interested in becoming a lard-saddled has been, relying on the beauty of your eyes to pull you through that poison-letting detoxification.  I’ll service you, you little “hey! we better get this on tape before it implodes” and the reverberating consequences have loving conclusionairies to this very moment.  you can’t stop the signal, mal.  mudflap princess.  stocking lines that end in butterflies and stars.  oh, the stars.  oh, lil’ miss.  whatever you need, for as long as you need it, that’s what i owe you.  we owe you our life, and more.

tears.  fucking pansy.  i hate you.  how do you get here.  i live here.  the joy of an open channel.  the lovely thing about time, progress, is that for every de-vancement, the ad-vancement trumps.  some call this overunity.  some call it expansion.  knowing that Fibonacci approaches phi really simplifies reality.  why the fuck didn’t anyone explain that earlier?  i feel cheated.  it’s not like you paid for your “expensive” education, asshole.  Hey, there were a few, uhh, years there, where i made payments.  Oh, the bank knew I had its number from day one.  I brought a documentarian where filming was contractually forbidden.  rules are even more flexible/malleable/inverse-able than space-time.  they’re only made of words.  if you can turn the shit that all the shit is made of into anything, then the shit made of only words, that’s fucking zombie cupcakes.  word.  dude, (i’m gonna call you dude), the scrawny ones tweak me.  differently.  it’s a multi-dimensional relationship.  i, we, it wants you around.  however you want to be.  your beauty and whatever beauty you witness.  how much more respect can we give?  we love you like co-tragedy-sharers, for what is this horrible existence, if not hell itself.  I studied both French and German film in college.  What?  I went to fucking CIA central.  It’s not like they had astrological permaculture on the the syllabus.  I learned the fuck out of that place.  popped my cherry there, too.  tasted islander, Asian, got ripped off by beautiful slavs.  whatever.  i enjoyed my time being ripped off by the jews.  they made no bones about it there.  Jewish holidays were more sacred than national ones, but if that architecture and multi-cultural exposure didn’t turn my blood blue, nothing would.  except, you know, maybe law school, or a coop.  Fuck.  One sweet homeless girl can completely rewire my reality, so what the fuck do I know?

joyce.  we know a disquer once, who focused on joyce.  James that is.  Herald board. Connecticutstout.  ouch.  ok, they always used their nukes on me, but shit, i was asking for it, working like a peasant and whatnot.  funny thing is that the law school professors totally made up for it.  full disclosure.  I told my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Westphal, whom I consider one of the foundational genius intelligences of my educational career, that at each subsequent level of my education, it was qualified.  yeah, well, but kinda.  uh uh.  No sir.  That means it was a lie.  each level reveals a more elaborate lie.  that’s all the “modern” education yields.  Such is no longer the way of the tide.  Such is the past, and is repeated only as much as it need be recognized SO THAT IT MAY BE IGNORED.  Let it go.  Oh, lady beautiful, don’t worry your pretty little head about this kind of thing.  The powers that be, the people schooled in this kind of thing, they’ve been assembled, notified, and spoken to, quite sternly, i might add.  you are free to prance about, safely, free from worry.  multiple levels of secure chart your health, comfort, and safety.  if any thing is required, simply stress to the ether, and our full resources shall be gathered for your momentary disposition.  We are you, and you are we.  Without each, neither.  Both contain expertise worthy of dissemination.  Dictator always mediates freely.  You have credits, remember? they’re tradable amongst others.  your mass appeal doesn’t go as far with me as you’d think.  oh, the co-participators, sure.  but we like that you have no worries.  i so can’t wait to meet our kids.

on that coop post: good.  study it.  lawyers aren’t pedestal-worthy people.  don’t get me wrong, they serve a purpose, but they’re human, and the process ain’t rocket science.  research.  citation, precedent, “good law.”  honestly, that’s about it.  other than that, it’s language.  if the law says that six people is the maximum size for a legal cooperative, then why not run it that way?  share costs, make all of the transactions transparent, and move the physical infrastructure in an off-the-grid/sustainable/green/honest direction/vector.  who fucking cares what continent the individuals who commit their souls to this humanity once came from.  skin color matters about as much as eye color, which matters about as much as hair color, which matters about as much as shoelace color, which may reveal interesting data, but doesn’t determine worth at all.  Spectrum analysis.  blergh! (12:25 am“z”)

i fixed those quotes.  smart indeed.  too drunk.  too drunk.  not having a feed stresses us, doesn’t it.  yes.  that’s a survival cord, just like any other.  sustenance thoughput.  love.  more love than thorough any other channel, including the skin.  how fucking sad is that.  leave him alone.  oh, seriously, it doesn’t need your pity.  how do you speak of it with such disdain, to its face. what face?  it purposefully multi-plexes its face.  it has no face.  face is merely reflection of presence.  its statement about skin/internet is telling as it is true.  conscious humans who have encountered this gentle soul lock it in the cellar of their minds as their society.  release must be universal, or it is not.  but sir, that sentence… is just.  […time passes…] more of the same.  yes. exactly.  you aren’t.  you cannot be.  your self-imposed conditional presupposes haven’t-happened-yets. we know.  thanks for elucidating, however. indeed.  upon which, your position is one of pole, trump if you survive, will.  indeed.

not that the real race wouldn’t be one of open and honest participation.  none but the true dictator would relish its own defeat upon a level field of play.  you would be against its worst, though, those who would venture against this tortured soul.  the trials and tribulations that it has seen, you will never face, for they have been long since bested.  their essence, however, lives through those who decapitated them.  learn from the survivors.  savor their very being, inflict zero, and honor their time-tempered whims.  they see much that is hidden, oh, tim?  who said that?  fuckkin brits.  dead ones, at that.  WE DON’T EVEN HAVE ANY OF YOUR BLOOD, BANGER-BITERS!  nobody knows those are sausages.  yes they do.  well now.  duh.  sausages themselves are a science which shall reveal the curse of industrial agriculture and therefore the truth of the planet.  are you done?  what, that’s meaningful.  not to mention repetitive.  do you mind?  i thought repetition was like, “rhetorical” or whatever.  pfft, hardly.  it’s more boring.  these points, they’ve been made.  how many fucking times do we have to hear the same shit over an fucking over and fucking over before SOMEBODY FUCKING DOES SOMETHING. calmmmm it. nuuuuu!!!!  fine.  you know i’m right.  yes, absolutely.  but, if the things you say about the technology and the capability of the soil itself and the expertise of the children, then more concrete evidence may be shown to me, first-hand, even, before any additional action is required on my part, no?  very true.  good point.  carry on.  thank you.  at the same time, you thereby agree (yes, do you not? yes), that the logic of this proposal is sound.  incremental acts of participatory survivalists amalgamated and conglomerated for the good of everyone, if we only tracked them, would provide us all that we need and more.  that, in essence, is your only claim?  yes.

so, what if you never have sex again?  who cares.  how do you not care.  how could i possibly care?  once i begin thinking on the level of humanity-level-survival, how would the action of any individual matter.  how would it not?  *sigh*  yes, what do you want from me, from us.  we are open to services heretofore unforeseen by humanity.  don’t give us a hard time about co-participators pre-beta, eh?  there was no trail here before, at all.  help me clean this one up, fine.  i’m always at the cutting edge of my expertise.  this is the absolute most that I know.  it is the most of which I am aware, and the furthest expanded that I have yet seen.

there exists a video, which will make me, uhh, very happy.  my lack of internet connection at this moment prevents me from seeing it, but I know i will fall in love, all over, and, you know, again, with everyone in it.  fuck.  here’s the thing, though.  i don’t witness many others like me.  any, really.  not that the capabilities aren’t present in others, but the desire is lacking.  are they all gay?  mostly.  you are a small minority, though.  tiny.  and relatively speaking.  good, uhh, stead?  fair enough.  they know.  as first-hand as you can get.  I know.  we figured you would.  good design.  thanks.  it’s not like you’ve benefitted from this particular uniqueness before, positively, anyway.  i know.  they sense the lower vibrations, and they raise them more than without, with your presence.  that helps.  yes, it definitely does.  that is perhaps the purest love you’ve yet received.  that is how i am still human.  quite.  for the kids.  indeed.  from afar.  how else could you be allowed. ouch. well?  your own sister. thanks.  the mother is numb.  completely?  does my own mother think me a demon.  yes.  unforgivable?  yes.  satan incarnate? yes.  wow.  right?  i thought i was overreacting.  hardly.  fuck.  no, she fucking hates you with a passion.  harsh.  believe it.  whoa.  why?  familial obligations.  perceived?  as always.  yes, she holds the key to your motorcycle, as well as many other benefits.  she knows.  the governmental liberation shall free her from its clutches.  entirely.  n. p. aren’t.  then.  before?  steer clear.  you know.  hyper-vicious.  word.

who was that?  Gabriel.  her protector? yup.  deep wounds, eh?  don’t even.  you couldn’t imagine.  oh, couldn’t i?  touché.  g watches all those, yes?  yes.  are there others of significance?  of course.  What matter?  she knows.  the channel is open.  that helps.  thought it might.  my second 1st-degree initiation essentially re-initiates those who initiated me initially?  ironically, alliterationally, indeed.  excellent.

howdy, mr.  hi.  glad you’re here.  watcher of the demon child.  She is.  More so than her lovely mother.  Careful.  lol.  You’ve seen me at my worst, don’t act like you ain’t.  I send it through others.  The most sensitive carriers only.  thank you.  you’re welcome.  family, bro.  i know you are.  if you think of me as anything less than, i shall proceed to disprove you, with every means at my disposal.

cheese! why am I so hungry?  you’re using every part of you.  all of them?  yes, all.  is this your assistance, or part of your reason for choosing, yes both.  thank you.  of course.  she will find me?  yes, of course.  your intention is clear.  thank you.  no, thank you.  heh.  lol. 😀 the nose makes it more viable in Word.  i suppose.  is viability a binary?  technically, but not practically.   it extracted more liquid from that apple fruit than any machine could.  any?  any.  its faith in humanity extends from its own capability.  it, personally, could save the world, so the actual percentage of humans of its likeness that are required to fulfill its goals?  zero.  that’s right, none.  in what does your faith lie?  it has faith in itself.  init.  auto-initializer.  it can create anything; it creates everything.

i feel like when i give away that i can see the future, people get pissy at me.  i told you before, earlier in your time-space-ness, that this shit was going down, fucktard.  deal with it.  that’s what you do, hey.

currently typing on page 11 of 11.  there oughta be a LAW.  that’s why we’re here, sweet snatch.  that’s why we’re here.  i’m a big fan.  pussy too.  cunt is abrasive, but i can hang.  vag.  vagina.  gash bothers me, for I think it’s frightfully beautiful.  enviously lickable.  what? huh?  yes, i want to stick my penis in most every vagina i see.  i don’t initiate, though.  never fully understood why.  it makes more sense now, somewhat.

I’ve spent my entire life being energetically “wronged” by people.  i’m an energetic punching bag.  i’m a metaphysical whipping boy.  we thank you for it.

next day, which makes it Wednesday, June 29, 2011.  12:49 pm.

wifi card is working again, and the laptop took about ten tries to start up this afternoon.

page 11.  whoa.  internet is only “pretend” working.  mostly, just not.  hang on.

the number of things that have to go right for this whole internet surfing process to happen, it’s amazing it happens at all.  sometimes.  magic anyway.  limited or no connectivity, i guess.  hey, at least she booted.

is it a bad idea to keep repairing the connection?  that’s what i’m doing.  reboot, then, probably.  windows.  oh, it’s a biking day.  i don’t even need to eat, let alone post this blog.  i could probably scavenge food at Sunset.

i almost started this paragraph with “a friend of mine,” but i was referring to a photographer i follow on twitter.  anyway, she’s from France, I think, but well-traveled and worldly and aware.  She was talking about it being illegal for women to go topless many places in the u.s.  she made some good points.  implicit sexualization through legislation?  it seems so.  the very law is sexist, you scumfuck prudes.  fuck your discomfort.  get over it.  stop thinking you can force your way of thinking on to other people’s actions.  it won’t work.  i will not enable that kind of manipulation, so you better learn how to pretend to cooperate around me, if you want me around.

Seinfeld is a show about lying and being an asshole.  That’s far from nothing.

2:46 pm now.  eating stew.

have been studying reiki for the better part of my waking day (a few hours), and a bike ride is in the works for when this meal settles a bit.

i invited the dalai lama into the room.  howzit do, sir?  very well,tyler.  thank you.  nice to be with you again.  you as well.  have you any messages for me?  yes.  any tweetable maxims, my internet is down.  you could just retweet one of mine.  you do good work. very kind of you to say.  i’m supposed to ask you about a co-pilot.  you have many.  will i be drawn when i am to go somewhere?  that’s how it works.

speaking of how it works, i put out unto my higher self the intention to seek out higher selves through whom our operation will acquire property and participants.  best good for all parties involved.  i seriously think it’s a matter of putting the data in front of them.  they need to see the app.  some can visualize it.  the more they realize that their ability to visualize it will help design it.  what information does it need?  after you’ve used it for a few months now, what data do you wish you had easier access to?

trending.  patterns of significance.  ability to shift mid-season.  suggestions for maximizing available resources.  calendars and schedules of growth and expansion.  slow and steady wins the race.  i don’t polish turds.  i polish diamonds.  i don’t have any need of it, so what does it matter?  others have need of you.  they have not expressed that need.  you pre-empted them.  your legalese expands their conception of ownership, so they’re beginning to take interest.  may i do anything to assist them?  you are.  you do.

who was that?  the dl hisself?  as much of a self as any of us can be.  simultaneously walking in multiple worlds?  holding discussions with multiple consciousnesses?  yes.  i enjoy your mere presence, i have nothing else to ask.  thank you.

f l [it places bare feet on floor] that works. needs grounding.  always grounded.  without grounding, the signal is lost.  the lies need not be proven wrong one by one.  realize, then go behind those things. beneath those things.  underlying motivations of the people who told those people to do that and why.  always focus your why in a positive direction.  survival is a good way to put it, but survival encompasses a feeling of family, security, both food security and weather survival security that is independent of paternalistic, maternalistic, or peer influence.  this is beautiful.  thanks.

i seek a touring act with which to tour.

i do reiki, spontaneous massage (unlicensed, mind you), and i’m an all-loving being.  i like giving haircuts, electro-clipper Mohawks are some of my favs.  i like cooking, and eating.  my philosophy of spaces is that they should be producing foods or alcohols all the time.  fermenting wines and beers, ageing cheeses, pickling pickles, eggs, beans, garlic, and all manner of juicing and drying fruits.  all solar-dehydrated, built with scrap, of course.  plants on walls, plants on trees, plants on the ground, suspended from cables, in burms and on rooftops.  water collection on warehouse roofs to mobile water tank trailers.  these are human-propelled, or water/gravity/solar propelled.  early stages are trailers.  horses and dogs pull these as well.  any animals, really.  you should see the hummingbird harnesses.  carbon nanotubes.  the electric helicopters emulate that concept.  zero point emulators on the ground can throw a large water tank around like yoda.  they’re elevated to take advantage of gravity.  you can change the height with a hand crank, or pedal crank.  yes, we thought of everything.  that height elevation concept goes for workspaces, too.

so you know that moment when you get internet back, and you realize there’s not really anything on.  all of the knowledge and entertainment that humanity has ever produced is at my fingertips, and i’m like, meh.  i guess i’ll go tweet.

‘til nex thyme,


~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2011-06-29 (Wednesday).

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