American Bardo

Do I believe in ghosts? Fuck no. But there's some weird shit going on more interesting.

And besides, isn't real life horrible enough? Not enough terror for you? Well, your brain kindly takes care of that in your nightmares.

Item: The last night I stayed at Mom's house. The place was already cleared out. May was cold and rainy and the heat was shut off. So I crashed on the floor in the room above the garage,

Because I am old, I have to get up to pee. I opened the door to downstairs, and it was a pitch black ice cold dead heart of the house kind of vibe & I thought of all the demons in the dark and blew it off as silly.

One of these days, it won't be something silly.

In any case, I screwed up my courage and thought, shit, I'm the most dangerous thing in this house.
Went down and peed.

Item: after smoking a joint I was attacked by a large friendly ghost dog. A big white huskey if you must know.

Item: My mom had a shitty cat called Molly that I called Hissy. She had it put down. Next time I was at her house, I saw a white kitty out of the corner of my eye. Again during late night pissing.  I don't beleive in ghosts, but I said

GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE

And then there's the dreams. If I go through my pleasure hut*, I find all of my dreams are negrophilic. Meaning the characters in my dreams or avatars or mechanical elves are dark complected, and usually very dark complected.

I have a recurring dream of a daughter who is black as can be. And she is a treasure. I love her.

That's hard thing for a Northern Barbarian, to admit love.

So I have a dream we are in one of those endless houses of American Suburban Bardo. {Not to be confused with Urban or Rural Bardo. I have visited them all.} We end up in the basement(s). Check the corners, Check the doors. Check the holes. And vigilance is not eternal. And my daughter is snatched. Not by monster hands. By my kind of hands.

By my hands.

Of course I woke up heart pounding little beads of sweat and agitated.

And maybe that's the awakening moment when you realize you are a fucking monster. You meaning me. Me and mine.

I wonder if Jordan Peele's use of  horror and the current #BLM movement have pushed a much needed sea change? Problem with that is we all know, above the age of 8, that it's a horror show, and the monsters are real.

The question now is, can we stop being monsters? We meaning me?

Wow this one went off the rails.

Flow My Tears The Policeman Said

Let's talk Star Trek.

What is it with us humans? We're small, weak, savage, dumb.

Dumb little weak little savage little monkey babies that apparently hand every alien their ass, including occasionally the Borg and the Q.

Romulans don't believe in Luck so they have no explanation for such a childish race as the humans

The Klingons see us as children, prone to sentimentality. A Star Fleet uniform is a child's uniform.

The Vulcans? They were afraid of us, because we reminded them of their own horrible Orc children.

(So there's also keep in mind Vulcans and Romulans are elves descended from gods*. I really wish I had set up my Vulcan Brothel in Las Vegas back in the 80s. I am an idiot)

( I mean who doesn't want to fuck a Klingon whore or stud? Who is this strange category?)

Who's left? Keeping up with the Cardassians. Which honestly, would be fun in bed you can tell.

So I guess Star Trek is humanity fucking every thing in the Galaxy** it could fuck.

Anyway, neoteny. Humans retain the baby characteristics of all Star Trek aliens into adulthood.

That's why we creepy little monkey babies unify the Galaxy through fighting and fucking.

Oh, also some digital creations reacting to the times around me.

Please police me

Prototype

Stay safe and sane fellow babies.

Bone Worms

If the USA were an abyssal ocean plain, the death of George Floyd was a whale carcass dropped on it. The bone worms have come out.

Not that the video, protests, and another martyrized black man who would have preferred not, coupled with a plague of anxiety, will trigger something big.

But all of a sudden surprise property is important.

This is civilization, Of course property is important. The radical new idea that life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness is still a little strange and magical sounding. Through that giant invisible beast called government or community or corporation. The collective monkey AI which we have enjoyed for ? how many years?

WWII? Doesn't matter. Point being we are expendable. I know I am a monkey drone and proudly serve the monkey hive. The problem is the objective function of our hive. We see superhuman stuff from our civilization, but don't see an emergent supersoul. We are stupidly used as property. When smartly used, we build rocket ships and nuclear reactors and hallucinogenic drugs that let us contact aliens in other dimensions.

That's the current psychosis. It's not an unreasonable one.

Treading Water

I had a dream I'm surrounded by big cats and there's a chain link fence I climb with razor wire on the top. On the other side of the fence is a big white tiger. A leopard starts climbing the fence.

"Well shit" I say and wake up.

I used to wake up happy. Not anymore. Not least for a while. No that's not true. I always wake up happy, but then circumstances express themselves.

And the circumstance is not helped by my own slow-wittedness. Birds should feed on my head.

I hope this isn't a case of becoming a gillman. See when you play recursive Titanic over and over, eventually some of the steerage and crew become gill people.

Hands hammered flat by rich people in life boats.

I can be a Johnny Gillman.

E = me * (Pascal's Wager) Squared

The problem of journals is you find out you wrote a better essay than this one in 2015.

You may correctly say Johnny applying ape logic to the unknown universe and I say yeah varily.

Because of course your existence can be parsed down to a imaginary plane.

Nevertheless we now have real consequences to this metaphysical exercise. I am an orphan.

I entertain psychosises (psychoses?) because I am autistic and can do that, The current psychosis is Let's Play Pascals Game.  As seen above, the question of divine and individual spirit is independent.

Me, personally can be classified as a Lazy Atheist in the Gusto. I am not ashamed of the time I wasted, because I can always go for the gusto. Any moment.

Wild Wild West is fun because it's also Ghost Town. Sound scary and fun. Also dangerous, which makes it a good candidate universe for our universe.

Mom's Gone

Mom passed this past Tuesday. She was put in hospice on Monday and did not linger. Was Good.

Not COVID, congestive heart failure which is just as slow and painful.

I got to see her but she was all drugged up. She could hear us. When I came in, I said "Hi Mom" and her head twitched and her eyes rolled like REM trying to open. I really so wanted to talk to her, but you get what you get. She was not waking up.

My baby brother was there at the hospice.

"Baby", ha. The weight was all on his broad shoulders. And my sister-in-law, his wife, a saint. A bitch saint, but a saint nonetheless. (No, I love my sis-in-law. I don't always like her, but I love her).

So, you always have guilt about someone's death. I left 20 minutes before she died.

Why wasn't I there? Same thing with Dad. Why wasn't I there?

But I was there, and with baby brother. Soon enough, we're giggling and laughing and making jokes and  storytelling like idiots over the dying body of my mother. Maybe Mom went "these doofuses are not going to stop this racket", so check-out time.

Or maybe she enjoyed it. The great thing, the dynamic, the experience I had with Mom is I--

Okay, so a cat has kittens and if the kittens grow up with the cat, then you got a bunch of cats. And the cats are friends. Or not.

I got to be old cat Mom's old cat friend. Which makes me think the reason dogs don't tear us apart limb from limb is they think we are cats. Or raccoons.

She died on Dad's birthday. 5/12

Now it's just us. Now I'm the old cat.

I should go into acting, because now I have a sure fire  set of memories to turn the waterworks on.

You read that and you say wow he made it about himself.

Well, I am my mother's son.

Boogaloo Bois

"There's only two kinds of guys who wear Hawaiian shirts: gay guys and big fat party animals" - Homer Simpson

The shit-posting arm of the armed far-right are showing up at lockdown rallies and call themselves "boogaloo bois", advocating civil war and stirring up shit. They have chosen Hawaiian shirts as a signifier. And honestly, they keep sending out hints and clues which, well:

Boogaloo: co-opted from Breakin' 2 Electric Boogaloo, a 1984 movie where an evil developer (Peter MacLean) plans to demolish the community recreation center, the breakdance crew must breakdance to stop it.

Boi:  (plural: bois) is slang within LGBT and butch and femme communities for a person's sexual or gender identities. In some lesbian communities, there is an increasing acceptance of variant gender expression, as well as allowing people to identify as a boi. 

Redpilling: I know it's from the Matrix, a movie made by two transgender people, but in real life, a blue pill will get you a nice stiff lasting boner, and a red pill...? I'm assuming the opposite.

Pepe the Frog, now Groyper, mascots of the alt-right. Frogs and toad do not have penises.

I'm, not implying anything specific, but it sure looks like these Ken Dolls cosplaying as GI Joe are trying to tell us something about their nonbinary natures which does not suggest any serious machismo.