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diff --git a/veryold/very old writings/sil chronicles/book two sez i.txt b/veryold/very old writings/sil chronicles/book two sez i.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab51b0b --- /dev/null +++ b/veryold/very old writings/sil chronicles/book two sez i.txt @@ -0,0 +1,351 @@ + + +Consciousness is the feelings of the contrast +of theory, as mere theory, with fact, as mere fact. +This contrast holds whether or not the theory be correct + -A. N. Whitehead + +Transcribed from intercellular radio: Half an hour later over Mexican food and she said my name is...beady eyed half faced men in a diner cut out eyes and fucking rotting corpses to overcome insecurities handed out at birth —afterbirth is death thrown in a biohazard container and trucked off to a point on a continuum I've never seen. + She glides and is not. Day 4: sounds of light and transmorphing Indian deities gives way to vampire children gnashing teeth and gnawing off the toes of the dead. Sound becomes rhythm and gives way to light and objects manifested out of try temporal vacuum air. Get out your accumulators— Egyptians, Tibetans. Kundalini guides prey on the new arrivals in death as in life, no different. "Best try to buck up boys" the sargent bellows "since none of you paid a rats ass worth of attention in basic..." + funeral dirges still ringing in their ears the cast of corpse memories not yet faded. i went downtown to see the firelight fountains and all the pretty hippies in costumes from centuries ago. Pull me under pull me over take off my shoes. + She was feeling quite distressed and wanted to get undressed —naked not nude— she doesn't know the difference and i don't care enough to tell her. Some things you can't do —enlighten others—fuck yourself in the ass—. Jumping around too much these days? Perhaps a synaptic workout is in order; something to make the goo go? The Mexican boy selling—hey mister you wanna but some chiclettes? One dolaar buy one box, lotsa gum —eh? no? + Cambodian prostitute with HIV contorts to accommodate the small, mutilated and misshapen penis of wealthy Usinc busy ness man. Inc had all the magic sown up in paperback bills weighing down the servile. she opens her mouth and closes her eyes, come splashes across her face like elastic and gooey silly string. He slaps her face and punches her, mashing come and blood —the rampant spread of dis ease—he leaves without paying and she feels luck to be alive, but doesn't know why. And the poets cry li la la li lalali or some such nonsense, blowing winds rustling trees, photomantages of bordem turned to alcohol like the infinite mysteries —just starting to ferment. If you can bake a cake you can build a bomb, you could split an atom —won't you please keep that thing away from me? oh won't you please keep that thing away from me. Keep that frying pan away from me. + + Maya took the trip many years after Sil, but no ostrich appeared, little flighted birds hovered about her window sill and bardos of tibetian death held out. Skinny cold fingers like withering men, like <horus sirus oriosis> and all the other dying gods who laid the framework for the christ con. + Little birds that said we shit and we piss and we masterbate and we don't give a good goddamn about much else. An emu drifted out of a bellowing purple sheet that hung on a clothesline two stories below Maya's window. He looked up at her and said 'beware the the creature, the parasite holding you down, call you it the eye that is looking for me?' + do what i am doing he said and promptly made a fiberous ball of light that twisted and turned and hovered in the air as if it were made of the very sound that had described it into being. God said "let there be light" or sounds to that effect. Maya saw great persian empires laid out, expanding and retracting, moving across time in slow molasses-like motions. Cities where the sun stood still in the sky and mosterous creations of the mind, horrifying and seductive at the same time. Like ancient Tibetian art there was no distinction between the provice of the mind and the province of the body. Women swam in south china seas of ambient warmth moving in playful erotic motions, cresting like dolphins. Creatures of all forms walked streets of near ancient origin, cobblestones and whitewashed buildings with European wrought iron balconies. Tapastries hung out from the window beckon the passersby to climb up into untold pleasures of body and mind. The scene was overwhelming and undescribably beautiful and horrifying in a way that held horror and beauty to be ultimately different reactions to same observed phenomena. + Like most people who have experimented with consciousness expansion Maya's initial voyage into hyperspace left her feeling elated and reborn, with all of life's secrets tucked neatly in her mind behind her beautiful eyes. But like most people she lacked the vocabulary to make these places real in fourth dimensional planes. Large parts of what she confronted lay dorminate in her mind because she was unable to face them. As a result her "enlightenment" was short lived and in the weeks that followed all the old patterns and programs of her life, both the conscious and the unconscious, reasserted themselves until two months later she felt her life was indeed just as shitty as it had been before she had drifted out into the bardos. This fact caused her much anxiety. Maya was (like all of us) trying to figure out what the hell is really going on down here. Innerspace had been her holy grail if i can get inside deep deep deep inside it will all make sense, but the inside is far more tricky twisting and ever elusive than the outside. going into the quarter alone is a touchy proposition, you tend to end up with one foot here and one there and you come out stone paranoid and schitzophrenic. Best to have somebaody with you to help navigate this side of things while you're on the endside. Maya enjoyed the risk at first, mainly because she had no idea what she was dealing with, but she quickly came to realize that going it alone is doubly difficult and rewarding at the same time. But if you get there alone you inevitably want to bring everyone back with you. (See archival records under Leary, Timothy) + One day Maya was looking for innerspace maps at the book store when she ran across the name of a man who had written many books on the subject of 'what the hell is going on down here?' Aleister Crowley claimed to have a map and method for getting to places in the innerspacial world that Maya had difficulty believing really existed. She had been there, but up until now she was able to run programs in her mind that said that everything could be a delusion, a creation of her own mind. Crowley described the same phenomena and experiences that Maya had feltseenknown, his imagery was different bounded in his own spacetime experience, but neverthless Maya could feel in the spaces between the words that Crowley had been somewhere like where she had been. Maya was hooked and began to study his methods of Magick focusing on departure techniques; she soon found herself capable of reaching the subway station under the quarter, although she didn't yet know about the quarter or even where she was. She merely had sensations and saw things that seemed to behave as if she were in some sort of intergalactic train station waiting on an outbound line. She didnt know how to get on the subway yet. + Crowley gave Maya that ability to similtaneously absorb these experiences whith all her existance, and remain detached from them at the same time. He preached that nothing is true or untrue, but that one should be open at all times to be able to accept temporarily anything as true or untrue. If you are skeptical of the process you learn nothing, you must embrace the process and remain skeptical of the results. There are merely different MAPS OF THE UNIVERSE, some of them are more and less interesting than others, the point is to learn as many of possible before you start choosing between them. + In the present Maya existed as a member of the genus homo species sapian. She lived in Usinc. Usinc had its a wide variety of maps existing in it but one overwhelmed the rest and was often unconsiously dictated by the Alpha Mans of her tribe. The dominate map in USinc as far as Maya could determine was what one of the Sapians, Noma Chomsky, called the Star System. This map (or tunnel reality, or set of beliefs) holds that most people are really stupid, or more eloquently in Chomsky's words: "...people would like to think that there's somebody up there who know's what he's doing. since we don't participate, we don't control and we don't even think about questions of vital importance, we hope somebody is paying attention who has some competance. Lets hope the ship has a captain, in other words since were not taking part in whats going on... It is an important feature of (this) ideological system to impose on people the feeling that they really are incompetent to deal with these complex and important issues: they'd better leave it to the captain. One devise (for programming people to feel incompetent) is the star system, an array of figures who are often media creations or creations of the academic propoganda establishment, whose deep insights we are supposed to admire and to whom we must happily and confidently assign the right to control our lives..." + This sort of map serves to divide people in two groups; those who are on the mapped described in detail and have nothing to worry about and those who are fucked and just get to listen and watch the map as one might listen and watch a talking bird. They tended to listen to what they called the TELALINGUS, a blunt box-like object with voices and images being projected outward into their consciousness. In older times people who heard voices coming out of the walls were called crazy, but in Usinc they were called consumers. The screen of the Telalingus created myths and metaphors by which they could make some sense of the world. Maya did not like these people they made her feel icky and she avoided them at any cost. + In Usinc most people believed this system is in fact THE WAY THINGS HAVE ALWAYS BEEN, but such is not the case. The dominate Usinc map was a rather new and untested prototype reality which increasingly did not measure up to even the most basic parts of concensus reality. There is another school of thought, a door that Crowley threw open, a metaphoric door to a metaphoric place called Gnosis. Gnosis holds that the only way to learn is to experience to confront the unknown directly to experience the sensations without having to make an apriori judgement about there validity. This map allows for a greater variety to life and makes it infinitly more fun and adventurous than listening to voices in a box. Maya went back to the innerspacial experience with a new sense of what the hell was really going on. She entered into belief tunnels and researched brain metabolism and learned what happened with typtamines and how the beta-carbaloids bonded with her synapses and what harmines and harmalines were. Then she went to the mystical maps from the eastern parts of the world and compared and contrasted ecstasy with satori and other states of consciousness outlines in Tibetian and and other eastern MAPS OF THE UNIVERSE. Maya was learning that in the innerspacial world there is no consensus reality you created your own and learned how to manipulate it to your own satisfaction and desires. This put her at odds with the dominate Usinc belief system of the day which labeled this behavior delusional. and found it threatening, she began to get paranoid. One foot in one foot out. She lacked the proper equipment to get all the way in. + There are two things wrong with the label delusional: first in order to have something be delusional you must first have something that is non-delusional. There is nothing that exists apart from ourselves this was something that a particularly revered Usincer named Einstien had been trying to say for almost a hundred years. He asserted rather bluntly that without us there to observe it the world only exists in potential or delusionally. It was rumored that later in life he regretted saying this. The second problem is the people who label certain things delusional and others non-delusional. A long time ago when the ansestors of Usinc arrived on the land they brought with them this map; the natives who greeted called them they-who-have-stick-up-there-ass-and-are-no-fun which has a much nicer ring that scientist or doctor or priest which is what most USincer's called them. The natives used to chuckle about it and ridicule the size of their shrivelled white penises behind their backs which irritated the Usincer's so they gave them small pox and killed them all. Elimination was a standard threat defense system in Usinc and was still practised in modern times. + The sense of direct confrontation and followed by personal understanding (limited though it was) gave Maya the emotional fortitude and strength to travel further and further down mysterious roads in pursuit of the truth or whatever. It might also have driven her quite batty and killed her depending on what map you the reader are bringing along. + The Crowley doctorine of not having beliefs also provided Maya way to experience things without terror, for the conquest of fear is an absolute necessity when one approaches the fringes of what is known and not yet known. Out in the Quarter fear is rampant, but without fear one is free to have myrid of experiences that are not availible to those with fear, objective subjectivity Maya called it. For instance just because one is presented with the sights of mass slaughter and carnage and every evil satanic thing ever recorded by man one is not bound to be afraid of these things because one is not bound to the system which labelled them evil in the first place. If that doesn't follow think of it this way: we have genetic memories encoded in or DNA (in twenty years science may well find the actual gene that has Dante's satanic visions stored in it), but in the mean time if you should accidentally dreg the hidious severed, bloody, snarling head of Lucifer up out of our genetic memory banks you can make him go away. You just internalize the event and lable it endogenetic which doesn't sound nearly as frightening as a seven headed monster spitting fire, gnashing its teeth, slashing up your record collection and generally making a mess of the living room. Of course if their actually is a seven headed fire-breathing beast from hell in your living room then you really do have a problem and you might wonder if your losing your mind. But ultimately even that is no comfort because if you've lost your mind you have to wonder who has it and why are they putting multi-headed-fire-breathing-demons in your goddamn living room? + Maya had fun with gnosis and managed to avoid seven headed satanists in her living room for the time being, but she did quickly find that she could no longer keep up with the pace of her mind. The racing mind is a difficult thing to stop, you find thoughts at every corner and you can't seem to find room for new ones to modify the old ones and your mind tends to enter a static loop. You'd have better luck stopping a train then stopping a train of thoughts. The best thing to do is to take time to fully absorb and understand each journey before taking another, otherwise knowledge becomes static and starts to feedback. + Maya had discovered that knowledge has an expontial rate of accululation and soon she found she knew so much about so much that she came to the inevitable conclusion that information has timebounded saturation points. She started to have to rely on artifcial means of meditation and breathing exercizes to get herself to sleep. + This may sound like a nightmare of some sort, but actually it is quite a skill to have, it like finding the on/off switch to the human brain. This gives one an extreme felling of detached vivaciousness, like you can walk through walls if you wanted to and eventually you decide you can actually walk through walls you just don't know how. Hassan i Sabbah will be driving the bus for the remainder of the tour you may direct any further questions to him... + "The British biologist, Richard Dawkins has coined the expression meme to designate a signal traveling in human space-time and carrying information (or mis-information). In Dawkins view, just as biological evolution depends on the circulation of genes, sociological evolution depends on the migratory habits of memes." —from Wilhelm Reich in Hell, by Robert Anton Wilson. Menes like genes can only be in one brain at any given time, the trick is to learn how to leave the individual sense of mind and find the point at which consciousness is pure essense with itself. Out there one is not bounded by the standard saturation points. Too many menes in "your brain" leads to a danger that it will all be static and meaningless chatter. If you want to decode the static that builds up in your brain you have to graph it on a time scale. Maya graphed the static in a journal. + + +life is far to grave of a +matter to be taken seriously +-Oscar Wilde + + William S. Burroughs once said that language is a virus, most Usincer's thought this was cute and humored the old man. But when you stop and think about it language does act very much like a virus. It is passed from old to young, it mutates according to the host, and it is fatal —when you stop talking you are dead. If we are to humor this cute notion further we might eventually want to cure ourselves of this worldwide epidemic. Memes may well be the genetic key. Why do we need information? Why do we need to be alive? If we are to suppose that the viral pattern of language is consistent with other virus patterns then it's transmission and ability to replicate itself must have a genetic code which it uses to trigger reprodution and the consequent mutation of the host cell structure. What is the DNA of language? + This theory rests on the supposition that ideas come before words ie the typical theory of language development: we speak because we have something to say. Suppose we speak to create the things we want to see.... Shit or get of the pot the old man screams. + +Static System Sampler: + + Sex and violence, she smiled that's what these people need —sex and violence. She feels the rage building. Writing is transmission it is the creation of alternative realities, the first step in creating a new world is to write it down. + The tired shopkeeper is out smoking her obscenely thin cigarettes leaning out the front door ducking the afternnon sun. She smokes constantly pausing only to give a tired answer to the same tourists she has to stare at day after day. An endless reminder that they, not her, are the ones enjoying life. Too many of them day after day year after year look look looking never buying. The Leather Connection doesn’t do a lot of business on warm spring days —who puts a leather shop on the beachfront. Nor is it the kinky sort of fetish shop you might hope for. Not even any leather in the windows. She moves her lips mumbling incoherences intelligible only to herself. She lights another cigarette. A rabid dog paces back and forth across the doorway as if protecting it from unseen horror. + The sharp eyed Asian hawk sitting behind me at another table closes her purse, pen safely secured inside. She licks stamps and affixes them to postcards. Notes for those at home. “Jenny: LA is great -warm sunny. I’m having a great time. Remind me to tell you about this guy Bill I met the other day. Take care of yourself. Say hi to Tom for me. Love....” + Families wander down the hill looking for a nice place to eat. The neon signs offer Mexican Italian Greek food, “but we need a children's menu.” “Tommy’s only nine, he can’t eat a whole meal himself.” “Do you think they could split a dinner, I’m not very hungry myself?” “You brought the credit card right?” “No, but I’ve still got some cash left over from breakfast this morning. “Wasn’t that a charming little place?” “What was it called?” “Lets go there again before we leave.” + The locals, the non-travelers, the doomed-forever-to-live-in-one-placers stream by in shinny cars coming home from work in THE BIG CITY. Their flimsy soda can Japanese cars that look as if a good size bird could, with decent aim, crush the plastic colored roofs. The locals drive with windows up and frowns turned down. “Did I remember to e-mail that memo to Tony at the office in Chicago? I wonder what sort of crap Diane cooked for dinner tonight? She is the worst cook. What happened to that tri-tip on Friday? I wouldn’t have known what is was if I hadn’t bought it myself. Dave and Linda smiled and said it was delicious the lying bastards. don’t encourage her she might actually believe she can cook. Dave probably just wants to sleep with her. That whore. I wonder if she’s fooling around behind my back? She never wants to have sex anymore. Its always the same routine. Me still dripping from a shower her reading some book I crawl onto of her . ‘Not tonight honey I’m to tired.’ I wait till she’s fast a sleep and sneak down to the kitchen reach behind the fridge and pull out the nudie magazines and —off quietly to the bathroom. I wonder what Diane would look like in tight leather, probably fat. She still hasn’t lost all the wait from the pregnancy. God its been what like eighteen months Justin’s starting to walk for christsakes. The light is green, fucking traffic.” + The static of ordinary life is horrendous and boring this brief sample was brought to you to remind you that not everyone, perhaps not even you, leads an interesting life. Was that you i heard saying that someone else said that the newscaster said that the stockbrokers think that the CEO's are going to rig the oil market and drive us into recession? ...hope the captain knows, cause us tech sargents are just barely able to gather enough memes to pull ya through the day and get into the missionary possition with a half limp cock and let the lov'in let the lov'in come back to me. Swing your hips and let it all get lose. No really. put the book down and swing 'em. Uncle Sabbah likes to see the little girls and boys shakin' de hips. + + Fog is settling in from the hills meeting up with banks rolling in from the sea, threatening the star’s view, tiny windows of the gods peeping in watching our silly games in continued amusement. They keep doing it every night Reminding me of San Francisco, the golden gate after sundown glowing like it were Apollos chariot itself. Proudly beckoning the traveler with tale of endless wanderlust -out here the final frontier come swim discover secrets hidden from mankind...Come the sharks are hungry. The mashing of teeth and bone, the tearing of flesh. + I would not fuck you in Thailand/ I would not fuck you in a plane over Japan. One of Dr. Suess’ lesser known couplets. + The sun is setting and several miles out at sea a trident nuclear submarine is preforming manoeuvres in preparation for a war that most people don't believe will really happen. I like to pretend the submarine doesn't exist, I like to think that no one has ever really refined and mutated the Anthrax virus to make it deadlier and that no one ever dared to split atoms, but they did and it leaves me feeling hungry and tired. + I find myself surrounded on all sides. Everyone these days is completely obsessed with Being Bizarre. So much so that nothing really is Bizarre anymore. Yuppies ride Harleys and frequent bondage parlors on the weekends while pulling in double incomes of 150K during the week scurrying from house to latte to work to the onceaweekmatrimonialassfucking. + You want Bizarre? Circus freaks castrating themselves on the street corners and pimps shooting heroin in their balls while screaming whores accost their long dead mothers in hotel rooms a cockroach won’t set foot in? Lawyers sitting on the roof, television antenna protruding from their limbs as policemen ritualistically torture themselves gouging out their own eyeballs to avoid the scene below? You think that is normal? You think it sounds better when you call it Urban Life? You're all nuts. + + +Star System Sampler: + + "Are you making this shit up? Or has it really been found by anthropologists?" + "As if that lends it some sort of credibility? Their PhD's mean they can't possibly be wrong or maybe deliberately lying ?" + "Are you that paranoid?" + "That's not paranoia, you always assume that wrong means bad. I am just saying it is really every bit as possible as the usual tunnel that says science is true." + Maya is lying on the couch rainy-day-ranting in the Fornical sunshine about the chemical similarities between DMT and human seratonin. DMT is in fact so recognizable to the human brain that it passes the through the blood/brain barrier in a matter of seconds. it is her theory that Seratonion was origionally DMT and as the terestrial ape moved out of the trees into caves and cities the chemical structure of the substance was altered, perhaps by diet perhaps by culture or perhaps deliberately by secret sect conspiring against humanity. She doesn't necessarily believe it, but she has fun tormenting her next door neighbor Pete with theories she knows are beyond what he has decided is real. People who refuse to admit for even one moment that "reality" and "fantasy" might at some point merge miss out on so many wonderful ideas. Maya loved to point out the ridiculus and far removed ideas that most people overlook as possibilties. She liked to remind everyone that we could be living in a great novel six billion pages long or our entire universe might be an intricate and complex dream some alien entity is having. Maya liked brain twists and loops that led directly into unsolvable paradoxes which, in her mind, always pointed out the stupidity of trying to use language to build things. + "unicorns don't exist right? + "right." + "Then how do you know what they look like?" + "They're the imagined creations of an artist." + "How do you know that? How do you know they didn't used to exist and they just don't now? How do you know that they aren't actually called dodo's?" + "Because somebody would have...i don't know... what are you getting at....?" + "The thing is, is that for any set of equations there is an infinite possibility of solutions; I'm not trying to say this is the right solution, I'm just trying to point out that it is one of the possibilities. And I can't understand why you dismiss it solely on the basis that it sounds rediculious." She smiled at Pete's bewilderment, the way an adult likes to smile its superiority at a child, but Maya knew that superiority is fleeting and ever relative. + She kissed Pete on the cheek, chiefly because she liked to watch him turn red and he shifted in his chair trying to hide his hard on while she pretented to be oblivious and went into the bedroom to change clothes. + "I guess its time for me to go huh?" he called from the other room. + "I guess so," she called back thinking time is not an object, its inside you. Maya was living on the western edge of Usinc (a state labeled Fornical) in a town by the name of Long Beach, which did not in Maya's opinion pocess a beach that would lead any rational person to call it Long. She lived in the upper left hand apartment of a fourplex building. The aforementioned Pete lived below her and next to him was a sweet quiet old woman whose life went on interminal pause between visits of her two grandchildren. The remaining apartment directly across from Maya's belonged to a man who called himself Cary, but Maya suspected that that was not his real name. He was rarely home, extremely wealth, extremely brilliant and seemed vaguely powerful in some way Maya couldn't quite place. Certain people when you meet them give off an air understanding that makes them appear powerful to others who don't have that sense of omnipotent confidence —like they are aware that their "self" is not the sum total of experience. Maya had met him a few times and said hi but she did not know him very well. She wanted to though and when she found out from the old woman down stars that Cary's daughter went to the university Maya enrolled in one of her classes. + Anna was a beautiful girl with black raven hair that swung across her shoulders and bounced when she laughed. Which she did a lot when talking to Maya. She was nothing like her father seemed. She was however always in a good mood and did not seem to have the psychosis of most people in Long Beach. But Maya was disappointed that she couldn't get Anna to divulge any scandelous details of her father's life. But Maya did use her as an impetus to talk to Cary more. This led to vague friendship consisting of a cursory discussion of his world travel habits, lack of official citizenship, and an invite to use his balcony whenever she liked. He did not lock his door and professed not to believe in property instead he had the entire place wired with cameras so that if indeed someone stole something from him he could find them and accertain whether or not they needed the item more than he did. All of this intrigued Maya and secretly she wanted to know more, but she was happy to just use his balcony which was the largest one in the building. It opened virtually right into a palm tree and gave one the feeling of being at some Mediterranean villa. It made Maya want to waltz around in a leopard trimmed chamise wearing platform shoes and sipping pina coladas. Maya's balcony was drenched in afternoon sun and not a pleasnt place to read so she would go to Cary's in the afternoon and read his books and drink pina coladas in her underwear and pace back and forth in her leopard trimmed chamise. She didn't know there was a camera in the tree as well and that it could be remotely moved and zoomed so as to allow Cary to see what she was reading. In fact Cary knew a rather lot more about Maya then Maya realized. That was only because Maya was looking on a different map scale, Cary's map was much much larger. But this is Maya's story and now a one act scene to show character development: + + Scene one: ONE DAY IN MAYA'S APARTMENT +MAYA +PETE +NARARATOR +(Stage is a smallish square room with deep red walls, two couches perpendicular to the audience and facing each other with a table between them. MAYA is a slinky sexual girl of twenty-four with fiery grey-green eyes, short black hair like ravens trying to get out of her head and slender arms and legs that slip around her body like ribbons. She is wearing tight black satin pants and a green spaghetti strap tank top which is also tight. She is sitting cross legged on the left hand couch smoking a cigarette. PETE sits across from her watching her with a puzzled look on his face. He is obviously younger than her and of a tall lanky build with an insecure awkwardness that is betrayed in his shifty mannerisms —as if he were not quite comfortable in his own skin.) + +Narrator (sitting on a stool stage left) ...Pete watched Maya with absolute fascination, he had never met a woman, no he had never met anyone, as intelligent or as goddamn sexy as her. He did not fully realize it but he was devastatingly in love with her and this we know meant that she would devour him and destroy his life. He did not know this yet, but the thought did pass through his mind occasionally when he masturbated —imagining her in all sorts of ridiculous situations where the end result was always her sweet innocent but wise voice begging him to Cum all over me...ya come on my face. (aside: wouldn't you?) Pete was smart enough to realize the unlikelihood of him having sex with Maya but dumb enough to pine after her nonetheless. +PETE:(existentially in his own mind) please pleeeeeeease have sex with me. +MAYA: Would you like to see me naked? +PETE: (too eagerly) Yes! +MAYA: huh... i guess that's better than not. (she makes no move to get naked) + +NARRARATOR: It especially disturbed Pete that she seemed to take so much delight in teasing him and frustrating him further. It also disturbed him when she went out with other men instead of him, especially when the other men was Jared Towers. Towers was in Pete's World Religion class and represented a peace of humanity deeply disturbing to Pete, he represented strength and masculinity. Pete was young and still believe that masculinity is limited to those specimens of the male population that look like they just walked off the cover of GQ or its ilk. Later, like the rest of us he would come to realize that these cro-magnon motherfuckers are in fact far to fragile to satisfy a woman in bed and spend the majority of their adult lives desperately trying to convince themselves that they are not gay. But, Pete had fixated on a rumor that Jared had a twelve inch cock, thick as a flashlight and had convinced himself that this was why Maya went out with him. It served the need for self torture that Pete's brain seemed to possess. + +MAYA: "Will you do something for me?" +PETE: (hesitantly) "Maybe" +MAYA: (with deadpan sincerity) "take off you clothes" +JARED: standing as if to strip and then thinking better of it sits back down) "NO" + + (A seven headed snarling beast of unknown but leaning towards demonic origin leaps out of the floor from stage rear he first bites at PETE; several heads lay into his flesh and rips off first his arms and then his legs, and then holding Pete upside down by the stumps of his legs it chews on his balls staring out at the audience. The beast leaps on the narrator and tears him to bits as a laugh tracks play offstage. MAYA is still watching sitting behind the beast on the couch oblivious to the goings on. The beast leaps down and starts to eat the audience; critics first the juicy fat ones in the front row and then the rich lesbians behind them all the way to back ripping up art fag kids who snuck in without a ticket cause there friend works at the door. The beast runs snarling into the streets of New York devouring east village types causing people to go into panic and leap from the tops of burning buildings. Carnage and Mayhem abound.) +Curtain falls. + +(The End) + + + Jared was not really Maya's type either she only went out with him because she liked nice dinners, but didn't like to pay for them. Jared was rich or rather his parents were rich and he would do pretty much whatever Maya told him to. She had never had sex with him and didn't want to. You can't have sex with a man who let you hypnotize him and then revealed under hypnosis that his father once chased him a around the house with a meat cleaver when he caught the boy masturbating to a picture of the Virgin Mary. Maya used to wonder over fine french food: what kind of sick fuck finds the mother of god sexually appealing? I mean if sacrilege is a turn on masturbate and think of fucking god in his own ass like he thinks of fucking you in yours...Maya had laughed for hours on that one, of course she didn't tell Jared anything about the revelation or how far into his mind she had gotten that afternoon. + + Pete had left and Maya had changed clothes and was heading out the door to meet Jared for dinner when she noticed light leaking under Cary's door. + "Cary? It's Maya are you home?" She knocked and hearing no reply she pushed gently on the door which floated open as if on its own accord. + A voice floated languidly in from the balcony and said, "Come in... I'm outside..." Maya went out onto the balcony and there was Cary sitting and smoking a cigar shaped object which smelled like hash. + "Hi." + "Hi." + "Sit down," he took another drag and exhaled. It definitely smelled like hash. He caught her staring at it as she sniffed at the smoke. Cary laughed, "would you like to smoke some hash? I brought it back from Morocco..." + "That would be lovely," Maya felt the awkwardness of a setting too intimate for the relationship that was being cast onto it. Cary did not appear anything but relaxed, but of course he was likely quite stoned. Maya accepted the blunt and smoked it for a while before handing it back. + "Have you been enjoying this balcony in my absence?" + "Oh ya, i sit out here in the afternoons and read," the hash hit fast and hard and Maya had to fight to keep her wits about her, she thought vaguely of Hassan i Sabbah and his brainwashing techniques and for a moment she understood why he was so effective. + "This stuff hits hard at first but it settles down and leaves you in a nice contemplative frame of mind, i only smoke it in the evenings. I prefer something more active for the daytime." + "I would never have guessed that you smoked pot..." + "That's the idea." he smiled, handed her the blunt and leaned back in his chair reaching for cigarettes. Maya took the blunt and reached in her bag for her own smokes, lighting one she asked, "What exactly is it that you do? Your daughter told me you own a casino or a mine or something?" + He laughed. "Doing research are we?" Maya blushed, but Cary just kept laughing. "What i do has nothing to do with either of those things. I just believe in diversifying my financial assets...so that if one particular area of the world economy goes snafu i don't lose everything...just good business you know........ but yes i do have both of those things, but they are just things and not even ones that I'm actively involved in..." his voice trailed off. "What i do is more complicated...some might say that i am trying to figure out what the hell is going on down here...others say that i already have figured that out and i have moved on to far more nefarious projects..." + He said the sentence like he knew that Maya would recognize it and the realization gave her an acute sense of paranoia which was accented by the canaboids floating in and out of her brain. Banish fear. Someone knowing you well without having spent any time with them is not necessarily a bad thing...people fall in love and they seem happy about it . Secretly i think they're deluded but this is different. Its a common phrase perhaps we've read similar books or maybe more people are into this sort of thing than you realize. + "So do you know what the hell is really going on down here?" Maya asked as coolly as she could in her stoned state. + He just smiled, "you're the one studying in college trying to figure it out... why don't you tell me?" He settled back in his chair as if waiting to listen to a lengthy discussion on the subject. + "It would take more than pot for me to tell you that..." + "I have more than pot if you would like it." + "What do you have?" + "Do you know anything about South America shamanism? They make a hallucinogenic brew —some people call Yage some call Ayahuasca, i call it the orange stuff that bubbles.... + "Ya I know what Yage is, William Burroughs went looking for it, i read that book...." + "Ah yes the Yage Letters...unfortunately mister Burroughs was an acute heroin addict at the time and heroin tends to not put one in a positive state of mind...the book is a careful and imaginative account of one man's failure to transcend himself." + "I like Burroughs," Maya said slowly, "but sometimes his whole nightmare apocalyptic routine gets a bit old, but he's good at seeing what could go wrong in any situation. If you want to know what could go right, you've got Leary or McKenna." + "You've read a lot of interesting books...i overheard you saying something about Aleister Crowley this afternoon... that's why i decided it was okay to let you know that i can get you anything you want...drug-wise and otherwise....you seem very intelligent." Maya blushed slightly and couldn't decide if Cary was hitting on her or if he was just a genuine intelligent man trying to be nice. "It would be easier to know if we had a script wouldn't it???" + "Excuse me?" Maya had been lost in her internal musings and the question seemed to come out of nowhere + "Nothing I was just listening...I'm going to give you some Yage that i had brewed up for me, its a healthy dose but i think you've the skepticism to handle it. Are you interested?" + "Yes I'd love to but um," Maya hesitated not wanting to be rude, "not to be rude but i don't particularly want to do it right now... in front of you...." + "Of course not, you should go back in your room and drink it on an empty stomach and lie there in the darkness and just watch the back of your eyelids...that's the way you get into this stuff." He was staring at her with his piercing, but unobtrusive green eyes, "but you have to promise me that you'll take it tonight and tell me about it tomorrow afternoon sometime because I have to early the next morning and I want to know what you get out of it" + "Ummm, okay ya," Maya thought for a second, "i can cancel my plans tonight," + "You should he's a waste of time." + Maya started, confused "you know Jared?" + Cary smiled and pulled a vial of Ayahuasca out of his pocket "know i didn't even know you were going out, but since i changed your plans with an exotic blend of South American hallucinogens, he can't meant much to you." + She blushed and took the vial, "thank you. I'll see you tomorrow." + + + +In the cosmic computer are all repitions, +all tape loops necessary to keep the cosmos going; +the noise, sight, sounds, feelings, rhythms are obvious and full. +-John C Lilly, M.D. from The Center of the Cyclone + + Sleeping fitfully under a moonless sky dreaming of a stale, smoky bar's liquor-stained floors and a headless horsemen riding like Icarius out of the fiery sun-gilded gates of hell. The headless horseman swerves and bears down on the I that is you with menacing intent, jolting the dream element awake and into a sleepnonsleep trance on the isthmus of reality. The horseman dismounts and walks in to the bar. + I was bewildered and in my heavy-lidded gaze saw a man with no head standing just inside the mosquito netting that covers the tropical doorway. Closer inspection revealed a pair of blinking eyes peering at me from where the neck tie should have been. A hand slipped out from the waist and motioned for me to rise. I climbed clumsily off of my barstool and followed him out into the middle of the jungle night. The headless horseman motioned for me to sit on a fallen tree and pulled out a long stick of cinnamon, he lit it and inhaled through a button hole in his chest. I sat down on the log opposite him and staring eye-level at the cinnamonette and I began to appreciate the sheer size of the horseman and realized that even without his head, the horseman was taller than me... + Time passes by in jerky motions not unlike the first motion pictures; uneven and without regard for continuity. Maybe moments maybe hours maybe at the same time, an old man with a sickly grey beard and a ridiculous suit is sitting where the horseman had been. One hand is out of sight down his pants and the other wags a long finger at you and he begins to jerk his cock screaming i want you i want YOU i WANT YOU! Eventually you slouched over against a wall and sleep. + + Cary was looking at Maya through eyes that seemed galaxies away, "you didn't say whether or not you enjoyed it." + "It was horrifying and beautiful at the same time." + "Did you feel fear or joy?" + "At times i drifted into spaces that started me on a fear program and then a voice or some unspoken thought would say 'don't be afraid.' Fear is judging i kept thinking and i was trying to hold out on judgements until after the experience. But i did have an overwhelming feeling of sadness as i started coming down and i saw the whole tree of humanity... i was decending through it and i felt as if i could have chosen an infinite variety of bodies...experiences...and then i found the Maya one and instantly i was back and that was that..." + You went into what the sufi's would call the cosmic control center only you just touched the edge of it...or you went in and you repressed the memories of the horror...that happens to sometimes..." + "So now what?" Maya felt genuinely lost. She wanted to go back up out into deep deep inner space, but she knew she didn't really even understand what had happened yet. She didn't tell Cary that she had repeated the trainstation imagery or that a headlight had been boring down on her and that the sound had overwhelmed her and blown her back down. I saw the train again she kept thinking, why do i keep seeing a train? + "Well i have to go back down to costa Rica and take care of some business at my research lab, but here is my email address," he handed her a slip of paper. "That code at the end makes sure to forward it to my cell phone so i will get it as soon as you send it." He stood as if to leave and Maya jumped up with him. + "Okay ya I'll write you...i have a lot more questions..." + "Well I'm not sure if i have any answers, but i'll do what i can for you." He kissed her hand and closed the door as she left. + And so it came that Maya found herself fully committed to the task of figuring out what the hell was going on down here. The Star Map of Materialism was discarded completely from Maya's life and she begin slowly but surely to slink into the corners and fringes of society, she entered onto the Usinc list of potential threats and though she was unaware of it she was marked for elimination. Cary met with her when his schedule allowed for it and they corresponded by email when he was out of town. Frustratingly he never gave her answers instead he asked questions she hadn't reached yet. Cary knew what it was like to be eliminated and he cautioned her against talking to anyone about these sorts of things. + The Taoists say those who know don't tell and those who tell don't know. Most Usincers familiar with this philosophy found it irritating and believed that things indescribable don't exist. And how they humored him when he said language is a virus. Maya began to see the emotional plague. The self limiting and self fulfilled negative programs that the majority of her fellow sapians exhibited became horrifying and Maya alternately found herself swinging like a pendulum between the poles and love and hate. At times she felt a tremendous force radiating out from her chest trying to embrace the entire world and bath it in LOVE, At other times the repulsion for all things human drove her into isolation where she would sit meditating and using psychoactivating devises to leave her body to exit the game, role-playing curcuit that is "reality." As the game circuit and its contractions became more and more painfully obvious Maya found herself drifting out of her body quiet involuntarily, right in the middle of conversations. The things that most Usincer's talked about rarely amounted to much more then meaningless chatter and Maya could feel and had to internalize the death imagry, the negative body images, the lable obsessions that comes from lost dreams, lack of love, and leaves only hollow shells to bundle up confusion and static. Drifting out of the body without warning was quite disconcerting, but it forced her to feel people and use this to know them rather than words. It was a step into another dimension. At first it only happened when she was stoned, but gradually she learned that certain thoughts and breathe techniques could produce the effect while "sober." + Sober was an obsession for most usincers, they believed that despite the fact that they ate mind alterning chemicals all day long (usually caffiene in the form of coffee or metamphetamines in the form of diet pills) that they were actually in a state of mind that was sober or natural. Maya was constantly siezed by desires to show people their biocomputers their souls whatever metaphor was necessary to give them back control over their lives. But Cary's advise held her in check and she avoided trying to show or teach anyone anything. You have to want to know something before you can learn it. She learned from the mistakes of Leary and the rest of the early western explorers. +Pointing out to people the sheer futilness of trying to stop someone from exploring the unknown regions of the mind was ridiculous, and it also meant risking identifing oneself as a "drug user." This term was used to religate mind exploration and its necessary tools into a periphrial segment of society that irritated and generally frightened most Usincers. Over the centuries people with ideas that are unpopular have noticed that people in the past with unusual ideas about life and its potentials tended to meet rather untimely and painful deaths. So the observant ones learned to shut the fuck up, or write in code like Da Vinci or Crowley. Great myths are spawned, the Knights of Templar, the Illuminati, the Masons, Taoists, the Assassins, the Sufis; history is riddled with mysteries. + Plans were underway at the upper levels of the Alpha Male dominators to get some more small pox blankets to these unwanted citizens. Plans had in fact been underway for some time, but since the serious students of innerspace had learned centuries before how to survive under adverse conditions it was difficult to figure out who need to be eliminated. Slowly and carefully Cary was admitting Maya into the ranks of those networks which exist in the periphrials of organized primate societies. He took her underground. + Most Usincers remained oblivious to the underground. It was something they heard of but assumed did not really exist. In fact Most Usincers had no idea that they were the most electronically advanced biocomputer in the known universe; consequently they wasted much time in imitating the behavior of other less electronically sophisticated animals. The Alpha Male orientation of the political system was little different than any primate group. A select group, after fighting amongst themselves for the approval of the rest of the tribe, set themselves up somewhere they called HEADQUARTERS and from here they ruled over the rest of the primate masses. This allowed the masses to relax from worry about decisions and beliefs and ideas. The Alpha Males supplied these things for them. They felt the Alpha Males did a good job of it most of the time. But this began to change and the Alpha Males began to feel threatened by the socio-cultural changes that were taking place so they reacted defensively like any cornered primate —they became paranoid. This paranoid psychosis manifested itself in the form of small pox blankets which by now had been improved. There were now Anthrax blankets, Leprosy-Anthrax blankets, atomic blankets, HIV blankets, and the Alpha males continued to invest more and more of the resourses of Usinc, and indeed the whole world, into developing new lethal blankets. + It wasn't long before one of them suggested that they out to test the blankets just to make sure they work you see. The first subpopulace to be identified were the "drug users." Infected needles were distributed, secret police raided and siezed property, and in time strip searches on public streets became common. This angered many Usincers even those who were not "drug-users" but they did not speak up because they would be labled drug sympathizers which was only slightly less irritating to the Alpha Males than actual "drug-users." In short they knew they would be given blankets too. Usinc was fast becoming a rather shitty place to live. + It was about this time that the first glimpses of the boiling of the Usinc political caldron began to manifest themselves; riots broke out in Detroit, Chicago and Atlanta, and the entire infastructure of communication was threatening to take away the Alpha Male domination. The Alpha Males silenced these protests with blankets, but then labor strikes broke out all over the country followed by advent of technology that deeply threatened the Star System. Communications technology was taking vast arrays of previously rare and complicated information and making it availible to the masses of primates. The people banded together and decided that the Alpha Males had to go, but the Alpha Males were ahead of them again. They had already found that outright violence was unpopular within the tribe (although perfectly acceptable against those in other tribes). They began to study those things that irritated them and they learned that silence and secracy are far more effective than noisy riot-type events. They used paper magic stolen from the great magicians of the past. + Cary had decoded the paper magic and learned to move through it without it touching him. He learned how to use it against the Alpha Males and this made him very very threatening to them. He quickly learned to be very very quiet and resourceful. Maya didn't have access to the resources that Cary did so he told her what he could without putting her life in danger. He told her about the Alpha Males and how to explore innerspace without raising there interests. He taught her how to walk without being noticed and how to use their paper magic against them. He told her that any hunting pack will inevitably develpoe a complex system of signals to communicate with during an attack. He told her the most important signal would be a riot in New York City which would cause the population to ask the Alpha Males to use the blankets on them. Unsinc was full of deeply confused primates. He told her that when such an event occurred the best bet would be to head to somewhere on the planet that the Alpha Males did not care about. He gave her a list of such places and told her that when the time came he would help her get to one of them. He did not tell her that they were all places he controlled and that very very few people on the planet knew about them. He also did not tell her that some of these places did not actually exist in the concensus timespace coordinate. + Maya found the whole thing adventurous and exciting like a spy novel, she kept it in the back of her mind, where, like most of the citizens of Usinc it fought with another voice in the back of her head that kept saying its never going to get that bad, it never going to happen... + + + + In the meantime she stayed in Long Beach and kept up her research into inner space, occasionally using Ayahuasca, but primarily concentration on Psylosilum Cubensis which was the most commonly available a particularly psybocilum concentrated species of mushroom that was along with LSD 25, MDMA and a host of other hallucinatory drugs, officially declared a schedule one deadly drug by the government of Usinc way back in 1965. No government investigation or tests were ever performed on psylocilum it just got lumped with the rest of the psychedelic drugs of the nineteen sixties and deemed inappropriate for human consumption. + Chemically altering your own brain processing structure is hardly a new idea, people have been taking strange drugs and eating different plants throughout history. But it also important to notice that these people have also been persecuted by almost every Alpha Male government and syndicate since the beginning of time. It has its genesis in the Christian story which THE CHURCH has so cleverly glossed over for centuries. + Christ was a gnostic; he claimed a direct communication with god, and while Maya did not believe in the consensus definition of god, she understood that there was something out there and that Christ more than likely had seen it and what happened to him? He got nailed to a goddamn tree. That has got to fucking hurt. You go about minding your own business and one day you confront a world that is an entirely separate reality from your own, and you like it, it gives you a feeling of ecstasy, you want to share it with others. At first they think you are insane, weird or overly imaginative at best, but you keep trying and trying and trying to tell them that there is a better way, you do some amazing things with the knowledge you have and they realize you might not be kidding and this makes them nervous so they tell the Alpha Males. We fear. And the Alpha Males use their paper magic on you. They write things into LAW and they make you ILLEGAL. They claim that this then gives them the right to stop you. You are amused by their unwillingness to try what you speak of, but you keep telling them ...it can be better than this...and you know this. One day they get desperate and they nail you to a cross. Through the physical pain you finally gain what you were lacking the power to transcend the body, you find death before they did and you leave, but they never understand. And you are dead to them. + + + + There are worms in the soul of the materialist and they are eating from the inside out, logic and the belief that things which can be replicated through objective experimentation are the only things which can possible be true, is not wrong, but rather a very limited way of viewing life. Why is science so reluctant to investigate phenomena like UFOs, demon possession, chemical induced brain change, telekinesis, psychic communication, telepathy, witchcraft, Auras, Orgone energies, Gaian sentience, collective unconscious, and the rest of the fringes? Simply because its own self limiting philosphies have consciously chosen to ignore them. If it were proven true that telepathy is possible would it invalidate all of biology? No why then is science afraid of this possibility and fight so violently against it and those that are willing to investigate it are labled frauds and charlatans? Because it would force science to admit its shortcomings and the Alpha Males would have to give up the powerful personality egos which are the only programs that their biocomputers are capable of running. + The irony of the star sytem is that those who go fathest out of the limbs get the greatest respect as humans (Gandi, Einstien, Galilieo, Bucky Fuller, Tim Leary et al) but their ideas are never taken seriously and when they are finally proved right it is only with the greatest of begrudgement that science and governments will admit what they secretly fear: that consensus reality is not a good map of what the hell is really going on down here. + The worms are eating from the inside out and the decay is not easy to see unless you look from the inside and crack the elaborate schematics of secret societies. Science is perhaps the most elaborate and widespread secret society to ever grace the face of the earth. It has gone so far as to develop an complex and untranslatable language unique to each of its subdivisions —any hunting pack will develope very sofisticated and complex signals with which to communicate during the hunt. The complexity of science is so great that even within the heads of the beast can not understand each other. Biologists pay no attention to physicists and physicist can't understand chaos theorists, chaos theorists sneer down their horned rimmed glasses at botanists and none of them take psychologists seriously. + The for instances: Sigmuend Freud in his investigation of the human mind predicated that one day psychology would be but another field of biology, that is that most psychosis has some definite interaction with physical biology. In other words if you tend to suffer from delusions of grandeur it might well be because you chest muscles are in a constant state of hypertension or something to that effect. Enter Wilhelm Reich, at first Reich merely takes Freud one step further, outlining a better method of psychotherapy that focuses on how the patient behaves rather than what he says. Reich recognizes that most people give away more of the unconscious in behaviors and habits than in conscious thought-out speech and ideas. Slowly psychology accepts this and he publishes Character Armor, there are of course those who refuse to accept it but in twenty years they receded from majority to minority. Then Reich turns to the question of biological causes of mental psychosis and he is drowned out in a cry of protest, biology is unwilling to accept or even experiment with his Orgone energy. While biologists happily admit they have next to know idea how the brain works they are damn sure that this is not within the realm of possibilities. + Reich is arrested by order of the American Medical Association and imprisoned for the remainder of his life. His research is hauled out of his office and labs and burned in the New York City incinerator. Reich thought as a scientist that he was immune to such primitive charges as heresy or the like. He is wrong and pays an exacting toll for his mistake. In an ironic twist sixty years later Bell's Theorem seems to bare out that at least there is a chance his hypotheses could be correct and to ad another spoonful of irony, they major American Medical Association endorsed method of treating seriously mental illness is biologically based chemicals, which we call drugs. + Another for instance: Bells theorem (that familiar bell curve on which you were graded) seems to suggest that points on opposite side of the familiar curve could in fact be behaving in the exact same way. For instance if you were to take to molecule on opposite side of the universe and look at their behaviors they would in fact appear to be the very same thing. A whole branch of physics has sprung up to study this idea they call it non-local energy transfer. However despite the fact that any farmer in Iowa could easily see the implications of this theory that if two things can be doing the same thing at the same time then two people could reasonable be expected to be thinking the same things at the same time, the physicist will not investigate telepathy and the like. why? His own map of the universe says that it is at least possible why not look into it, it seems like an interesting and certainly revolutionary idea? Because he or she knows that this is not how life is. Self limiting prophesies are always fulfilled. If you know something is true or not true then it is true or not true for you. There is no objective reality. Sorry kids there just isn't. Einstein told everyone that eighty years ago, but unfortunately he wrote (like Crowley and da Vinci and the rest) in a very clever code called physics and the star system holds that you could not possibly understand physics. + Let me destroy that myth for a moment. Its simple, relativity says that the measurements made at any given point (you being a point in this case, belittling i know but work with me here). At any given point what is seen by the observer is only accurate at that point. In other words what you see and experience is uniquely your own perspective and is not true for any one else. We all know this as common sense, but sadly few understand it. This means that we are all uniquely alone and separate from each other —incapable of ever seeing the world through someone else's eyes —so long as we remain bounded to the spacetime point we call our "self." Transcending this point of observations suspends the laws of physics as we know them and throws us out of the time bounded Quantum Universe into the Multiversial Flow that mystics have been babbling incoherently about for centuries. The Tao Te Ching is not enigmantic it just doesn't operate on the same logic and rational that we do. Transcending the self is not hard you can do it on a daily basis; the human brain has known this unconsciously for thousands of years and developed something called empathy which allows us to try to see the world through another persons eyes. If you go further you forget that there are people and non-people there only is. + + The Star map consists of litanies of hierarchical structures at the tops of which reside experts who hand out information that travels down the ladder and is collectively agreed on by those in the lower rungs to be true. Thus only a select few of the people presumably know what the hell was actually going on. This leads to holding beliefs and is very detrimental to the mass of the population, tending to produce psychosis which tends to manifest in the Nabisco sponsored M&M&M Monotheism Monogamy Monotony. Polly gets a cracker. Peoget. Its been written up, described dis affected, looped and fed back so many times the signal is garbled into meaningless static. + Usinc primates were a curious group. Maya liked to watch them and felt at times like an alien anthropolgist sent to study this unique, bizzare species. + + +We're all Fucked +-Sil Hawkard from Pissing on Gravities Rainbow + + + Of course there were some good things about Usinc primates, some of them were goddamn sexy. The males of the species tended to believe that if they put their cocks in you this then gave them control over you. Maya found this irritating and consequently spent most of her sexual energy on women who tended to be less controlling and more open to multiple partners. + For some time though Maya's inner space exploration had taken over her sex drive. She spent three months in near isolation save her contact with her neighbors. During this time she travelled into spaces very foreign and exciting. She learned how to gain control over what experts in the field called the biocomputer or the soft machine. The human brain is the most sophisticated thing in the known universe; it is capable of processing data at a rate that so far exceeds everything else as to make it seem unique. But it is not unique at all, computers operate on a very similar principle of electrical impulses to move and interpret data. Instead of synapses and ganglia they use resisters and capacitors. If we reverse the analogy and view the brain as a much advanced computer questions present themselves, questions like what programs are running? Who is the meta-programmer in charge of loading and running the programs that the people use? Can you seize conscious control away from the meta-programmer and program your brain yourself? Maya found that she was not in control of many of the programs that her brain ran, some being run on a daily basis. Her three months in isolation was an attempt to catalog the programs stored in her hard drive. She got quite good at leaving her body and she had the experience of communicating with entities that do not occupy physical realms. One afternoon one of these entities addressed her directly and questioned why she wanted to be alone. No one in here is alone. To be alone is to no longer exist in a relative universe. + Maya gradually came realize that you can not remain in static isolation without necessarily limiting the number of reality tunnels available for exploration. This is why people who never leave their hometowns tend to believe that their lives are the way THINGS HAVE ALWAYS BEEN. Stasis leads to static which leads to confusion and eventual psychosis like emotional attachments to things. This psychosis eventually leads one to become the memetic duplicate of the parent program. Primate Bio-Computers get anxious when they start to feel like they are becoming their parents they have a "mid-life crisis." This is because the nuero-circuitry on the soft machine is not designed to run pattern lopes, we are the only self programable computers in the known universe and you're worrying what color curtains you should have in your window, what style of clothing is more popular among the rich and famous, how you can accumulate and store as many scraps of papermagicmoney as possible? + The more you travel the more you know is the ultimate extention of this logic. Mathmatically: Stasis=static=boredom=fear=death. As the sufis used to say before they got co-opted by the Hippies Uplifting Humans (HUH? for short) don't put anything over your head, it could fall and hurt you. Maybe they had to much ether in the temple or maybe you're just taking it all too seriously. + The more "other people's shoes" you can fit into the more perceptions you will have on what the hell is going on down here. The more perspectives you get, the less you care which one is right, and you stop taking any of it seriously. But that doesn't mean you aren't serious about it. Achieving states of ecstasy feels really fucking good otherwise why would you bother? It seemed curious to Maya that religion had chosen to portray enlightenmnet as this serene eternal peace on a mountain top kind of image. A good ad company selling ecstasy wouldn't get clients with an ad campaign like that. Its worse than some late night hack job: Do you feel bored? restless? Try the new godatic ecstasty pill! feel the energy of the entire universe pulsing through your body! order today, supplies limited, only three easy payments 19.95.... + Ecstasy is takes many forms, sex, chemicals, food, smells, tactile sensations of skin on skin. There are no limits in the province of the mind save what you put on it. You don't have to live in one place mentally or physically so why would you want to? She hit upon the idea of living in a reality tunnel without a home base without a steady income and surviving on a daily basis rather than a monthly one, or a yearly one making decisions on the basis of a lifetime's worth of time makes it very hard to act. Be here now the Buddhists say. One of the easiest ways to get into the now is to force the body to have to constantly adapt to new surroundings. Cats always land on their feet because they start running before they hit the ground. + Listening to Cary and reading the emails he sent her from the far corners of the earth tell made Maya realized constantly moving altered your consciousness. Cary came by one day with an eightball of cocaine and said I thought you might need this. She was in New York City forty-two hours later after a three our nap in Denver, Colorado. + Maya arrived already in an altered state of consciousness, she had run out of coke in Kentucky and kept herself awake by taking massive dosses of caffeine and occasionally slashing her arm. She found that eventually after thirty or so hours it is harder to fall asleep then it is to remain awake. Her eyeballs ached and her hands were callused from gripping the steering wheel of the trusty ford ecnoline van which despite having 238,654 miles on it was still the most reliable vehicle she had ever seen. Although as she took off all her clothes and drove through the stifling Kansas heat she wondered if maybe Cary would have given her a BMW or something if she had asked him. I need to be rich she thought. + She went to her friend April's house and called her from the front porch on a cell phone that Cary had loaned her. Halfway through the catching up she walked in the door. It made Maya smile and seemed to shock the shit appropriately out of April who was getting head from another girl while she talked and who nearly leaped up to the ceiling when Maya burst in the door. + +Snapshots: + +223 slipping in splish splash boom band boom and it was in Arizona when i noticed. Creosote bushes Juniper trees growing up through brown grass and dry red earth sky painted black and blue Culumous clouds held off in the distance and dirt splatters the windshield rolling rolling on rolling on what i need is. + disappointment click clack tree wheels tuffs of white cotton mixed in with the rumble of thunderheads and i had a line on and there was a sign jelly roll. Cigarette ash and the rain was holding off. Headed east headed east ping pong sing song. Desert air alone. Never had much time to talk about money, when i need a hammer i use it the rest of the time i leave it in the garage. Not much you can say about a hammer. It works. + I like your diction ohhh baby i loooove you diction. contemplate chemicals as a means of communication, if all you got is language all you got it four dimensions up-down, left-right, back-forward and what time is it. Bodeey is communication, sex is communication, chemicals are communication, images are communication, words too. My mind your mind ITS mind. i want to dream in eight sided polydimensional technicolor. + Corky voice over: New Mexico is dark few lights here and there, but they don't seem to have a sun. Ya its dark. theres some stars there's the dig dipper looking bigger and dippery then ever, looks more like a spatula to me but whom am i to say. + Southern man voice over: and there some rocks over thar by tha Indian gaaaming facilities. and there's a big blinkin,' one a 'em radio towers i reckon + Homer: uuuuh look. truck. mmmm donuts. + Glow on the horizon could it be?! waiting for alien abduction mind fading. + You don't think we are Indians? Look at all these teepees we are....Indians. +` The first genuine signs of an altered sate of consciousness: inability to distinguish between movement and sitting still. Time becomes plural bendable mutable and simultaneously objective and subjective. Bending time affects space the ability to look into the distance behind the eyelids disappears and the world feels right on top of you, flattened out like a blanket over your head. then a feeling of dizziness and disorientation of visual field inability to judge distance. followed by flawed depth perception difficulty in walking and a feeling of separation of mind and body. The body will remain intact but the mind goes into something akin to active sleep. You are asleep without being asleep. The body seems to function on a light dark binary pattern regardless of whether or not the mind is there with it. + the final unanswered question of humanity: where do thoughts come from? The brain? how does a gooey cellular substance flush with electrical charges and billions of strung together molecules formulate complex abstract ideas about things that don't exist? I feel like a lucky strike, i think I'm toasted. + Once when i was five i had an imaginary friend named steve. We got along great until one day he tried to steal my blanket and i kicked him out of a moving car. that was the end of steve. + + Maya no intention of spending much time in New York City but she got slightly side-tracked by brown liquor, green marijuana and an eerie sense of syncronicity that seemed to scream out follow me. Her friend April had a friend who had a friend.... that had invited her to the annual naked party that the rebellious hippie type students threw every year at NYU to somehow prove that they were cooler than anyone else. Maya was amused by hippish college students and thought it was inane, but she also knew they tended to be in possession of chemicals that Maya was lacking. And they never even realize that drugs are not phase, they're a way of life that so threatens humanity that they have come to be the cardinal sin. + The naked party was a nationally known event held in an enormous old Victorian house three stories high wedged back off an alley in the East Village Mall. As you might imagine everyone at the party was naked, and as you might expect they were all severely inebriated. Maya danced around the rooms looking for some sort of powerful mind altering drug, she spied a wretchedly foul looking hippie boy who seemed like he was having a more innarestin' time than the rest of the people and cornered him to get an eighth of Psybilsilm Cubensis at the reason price of two minute of kissing and brief grope during which time Maya ate the mushrooms and escaped from further advances. The alcohol rumbled with the addition of stale fungus and suddenly she felt dizzy and alot drunker then she had the moment before. Maya stumbled toward the bathroom to rid her body of the alcohol pollutants wondering if the mushrooms would act like peyote and be stronger after you through up. She opened the door too drunk to care if it was occupied and burst in to catch William, a slight man of about twenty five with a thin but muscular body, gently fucking a girl doggy style. Maya's world was beginning to become less and less vertical, but she caught the girls beautiful face in the mirror, perfectly framed by long angelic golden ringlets of hair that Maya’s eyes followed down to her sweat glistened nipples and heaving breasts. William was leaning toward the sink to do a line of cocaine, at that instant Maya was too drunk to be taken aback, she simply squeezed in and closed the door behind her and threw up in the toilet for a minute. After several gut wrenching heaves she tried to get up and sit down to pee, but the world was refusing to hold itself up and the toilet seat leapt up at her resulting in a fairly loud noise that made the girl turn her head and shimmy slightly looking back at her. + “you look like you could use a pick up, give her some coke William.” She smiled at Maya . William pulled his cock out of the girl but lost his balance turning around and accidentally slapped his cock against Maya's cheek + “Oh my god! I’m sorry! oh wow, did that just happen?” It was by far the most immediate and personal introduction to anyone she had ever had. The girl just laughed. + “Usually I date someone for a while before I let them slap my face with their dick.” Maya had found that sarcasism was funniest in the midst of insanity. + The girl laughed again, she bent down and licked Maya’s cheek, “Just getting my cum off your face,” she whispered in Maya’s ear. Maya did a line and felt much better and then another and then another and another until she felt downright spectacular. Then the girl grabbed her by the hand and led her out of the bathroom and down the hall into a room that was empty and smelled of the delightfully sweet aroma of Opium. + “You have Opium,” she murmured as the girl pulled her into bed. + “Yes I do." She pulled Maya down onto the bed. "My name is Chloe and that was William, and that's enough talk,” she lit and huca and passed the hose to Maya. + Picture: A blurry collage of images short circuited by imperfection and redeemed by the great opportunities of flesh and smokey tongues. Maya liked men and women, and was not, like most of the other bipedal apes of Usinc, afraid of having sex with her own image. Bisexuality exists in potentia for everyone, but only a handful realize the seductive pleasure of a body so close to the I. In fact Maya was far more selective of the men she slept with then women, but William, Chloe's boyfriend, was a sleek muscular yummy as one of Maya friends used to say, so she didn't complain when he climbed in bed too. Others at the party came and went but the three paid them no mind. Maya was lost in a world that for a moment offered the opportunity to let the music and the swirl of opium lights carry her into a sexual trance that welled up in her feet and travelled deliciously up her spine until it erupted in a whole body orgasm. + There was an odd moment after the orgasm when Maya had returned to the dance floor for a moment and then decided she wanted more and wnt back to the rooom only to catch William getting dressed and looking like he was going to leave. "Where are you going?" + "My friend needs some stuff." William eyed her suspiciously. + "At three in morning?" Maya furrowed her brow and held back from asking prying questions like who or why. "addict?" She asked. + "He pays me very well so that i won't have a problem catering to his whims." William pulled on his boots and got up to go, "Chloe's still in the bedroom you should let her take care of you..." He kissed Maya on the cheek and headed for the door. Maya watched him go and then walked back to the bedroom. + "Where the hell did William just run off to?" She asked closing the door behind her. + "Our friend Cary needed some things that William and I got for him." + "Cary?" + + + +Why aren't you gay? +-Sil Hawkard from Pissing on Gravities Rainbow + + The poetics of Allen carry long over and over into the the Quarter like Voodoo music and you know that they are with you and all will be solved when you are recognized. You hope that all you have come to believe is true and you want to know if we're all lost in the confusion and you want to think the smoke is clearing and surgeon will be stitching up the lacerations and you're licking up the blood. And every one seems to walk so confident and proud like they know so well what they are doing and you cutting into fear and they don't seem to notice. You're feeling like an idiot because it is so easy for them to walk proud and unafraid and you no longer care you want to see yourself smiling in a nineteen twenty's black and white photograph yellowed over the years and you want to know if you've been stuck in this station for to long you want to know if you've been down this line before. No one seems to understand why you're saying what you're saying and the lesbians don't understand men and the fags hate women and the hetros hate everyone and everyone is so dead dead dead afraid of sex. Why would you refuse an open mouth on your cock why would you deny the tongue snaking through the folds of your pussy simply because it came from a body that looked just like your own? Why deny half of all the sex you could ever have? Go back and confess your sins and catch the first train out of here you freaks. Its crowded and we haven't got the time or the resources to be having you around. Face up to the things you are not and could be, step aside and make room for those of us who are here to go. "I hope for you that you apply this happiness, this peacefulness" -JMS + + “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” Chloe climbed on top of Maya and began sucking her nipples. Maya felt her body relax and could smell the familiar mingling of incense and opium smoke floating across the room she raised her head and saw Chloe’s hard nipples rub against her own sending tremors down her spine and an aching contraction gripped her pussy. The cream ran down her slit and trickled over her ass and onto the pillow. She drew up the Chloe’s leg until it was rubbing against her pussy, smearing herself on her thigh. Maya pulled Chloe’s mouth onto her own and kissed her hard, pushing her tongue into her warm sweet mouth, licking her lips and nibbling at her tongue. There mouths danced and the whole religious allegory of centuries seemed to swirl around from the Indonesian tapestries that hung on the walls and ceiling. Chloe rolled over and dragged Maya on top of her pushing Maya’s head down between her legs. Maya ran her hands across Chloe’s pussy and down her thighs, pulling her legs apart. She looked up at Chloe's ringlet hair and smiled her warmth through the cinnamon orange color she felt it flowing out through her chest nipples hard and sticking up like radio antenna. Drawing Chloe’s ass into her hands and lifting the pussy onto her tongue, Maya lapped at her creaming pussy, stabbing her tongue between Chloe’s glistening smooth and moist lips, dragging it up over her clit slowly to tease her at first, but Chloe grabbed Maya’s hair and forced her tongue between her lips and ground hard onto her tongue. Cum soaked Maya’s face and she began to lick as hard and fast as she could. + + + Exhausted and Satiated Maya and Chloe left the naked party together at seven the next day, carefully stepping over the delicate piles of sleeping flesh that litter the floor, admiring the groping hands clasped of breasts and clutching at limp cocks, crisscrossed and sleeping in splendor. Chloe took Maya to breakfast and the twenty four hour diner downtown and invited her to make the drive up to Boston and stay with her. + “So what is it you two do?” Maya said trying to make conversation with someone she realized suddenly —she had had sex with, done large quantities of opium, mushrooms, and cocaine, yet had never really talked to. Maya thought of the joke about the couple that was getting divorced just out of college. One of their friends says ‘what happened?’ ‘Well,’ says that man ‘we met and got married in college; I didn’t know we couldn’t get along when we were sober.’ + “So now you think because we fucked and shared some drugs that I'm going to bare my soul to you?” Chloe asked smiling. + “I was hoping,” said Maya meeting her smile. + “Well, okay, I can tell you the truth but you won't believe me." Chloe seemed to be measuring her up with words designed to lead Maya somewhere. + “'Belief is the death of intelligence,'” said Maya. + “Well Well well, you can read.” Chloe seemed to shift to a certain bitchy character that suddenly made her appear self righteous and altogether ugly in that smug ugliness that New Englanders seem to always have whether they mean it or not. She looked searchingly in Chloe's eyes and heard a voice, one she had never heard before telling her that smugliness is ugliness is fear/must cut through/ get them down from there/ stuck like a cat///. She quieted her voices and listened to the way Chloe's green eyes moved as she talked. She felt her breathe between sips of her coffee and watched to curl of her tongue as it formed words. She wondered absently if William was in love with her. + "The truth is that William and I work for a man named Cary, we make collages and sound loops which he needs when he goes um travelling." + "I knew a man named Cary," Maya was thinking aloud and instantly regretted it, but Chloe only smiled. At first it was warm and friendly but then a consumptive almost animal like fire began to burn behind her eyes or maybe it was Maya's own desires projected outward into Chloe's eyes. + "How would you like to come up to Boston and lick my pussy for a few days?" + She said it with such feline grace that it sounded as if she giving someone directions to a restaurant, Maya came back: "Are you going to lick mine?" + "I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked, so you'll stay fucked." + +We forget that sacred, +respectful sex may not look +like heterosexual monogamy, +and we forget that human +beings are sexual every +moment of their lives. +-Sallie Tisdale + + It reminds me of a place i used to live where in dark corners i watched a beautiful brunette and fell deeply in love with her, though we never spoke. I watched her like writer would smug certitude that i knew the real her better than she knew herself. I sat alone in that dark corner night after night waiting and watching. If you listen in silence the Buddhists say, you hear much more. Silence means no thought no word no picture, if you want to know what someone is saying stop listening to the syntax and watch how they say it. You only do that if you are internally quiet and listening, which involves the eyes as much as the ears. + i like to listen to Chloe watch her lips curl and retracted and form out words thoughts ideas smiles frowns all the expressions of human emotions which words are not needed for. Words are abstracted ideas intellectual masturbation, bodddiiiiyyy language is here-now happening, really occurring, Maya Maya Maya what are you doing you sound like you're in love with the girl... I am but I'm not; I'm not because being in love turns strange gears in my head and heart and soul and makes me change to better reflect upon the image i am so desperate to duplicate assimilate and make myself into. My love is possessive lays inroads across lives bringing separate things together i can never again tell someone i am in love with them because they always expect it to last forever. i hurt them when i leave and i never mean to i still love them i just have to leave. + Sex. the feel of her nipple rubbing coarsely against mine the softness of mashed breasts stuck together kissing chasing her tongue around her mouth. there is a reason writers are afraid of sex and hate trying to write it, they don't have words for it. They think its something that is happening, a thing that exists apart from ourselves, but it is not. It is in us —we are sex. Sex is seeping from our pores and we hate it, we deny it. I want to celebrate it, I want to have a mad passionate orgy with the entire world. I want men I want Women i want plants I want animals, all life in one orgiastic embrace like Kali and Vishnu; mouths locked on mouths, on breasts, on cocks, on cunts, cocks in cunts, in asses, between breasts, tongues licking necks, licking nipples, licking asses, fingers probing flesh, FLESH FLEsh FLesh searing and popping with electrostatic sexual energy. Is that so much to ask? Wouldn't you like it? Are you scared because you know you would and it might turn the world upside down? + How to suck seed: I like sucking on a man's cock —my mother would call me a whore. I like cock, the flesh there is much softer than anywhere else on a man's bodies, the cock is the closest a man gets to being a woman. It amazes me that women don't enjoy sucking cock more if only for that reason, of course that's not all i like about it. I like watching them squirm, making them twitch; i like looking in their eyes as my mouth slides down the shaft giving them that fuck me look that men spend most of there lives trying to coax out of women. Men are really quiet simple like that, look at them in the right way, beg for the right things (like pllleeeease ppllleeeease fuck me harder or yes cum all over my face...) and they will do anything you want. They will still try to front their character armor, try to treat you like an idiot try to prove themselves superior, but I never begrudge them that, if i were as dumb as a man and my ego were that defenseless I'd spend most of my waking hours trying to protect it too. + Maybe i should writing a guidebook for women called How To Suck Cock. I should definite reeducate them on the come part, many women think men like to come in your mouth, this is not true. Men want you to get messy, they want come in your mouth on your face on your breasts every where, its like they're marking their territory. You have to act like you like it too, and eventually you will...eventually you will find you are turned on by things much more perverted then you originally thought possible. You will find yourself not just wanting to suck cock but to rub your face all over it, devour his balls with you tongue making him twitch and begging for him to fuck your face. You will discover as I have that sex is not good until you are covered in sweat and cum and have violated all the taboos and laws of the country. You will also find that this will scare the living shit out of most men who run away when you walk in a room in stiletto skin tight rubber boots up to your cunt and nipple clamps with a chain, and say get on your knees and lick my asshole. They're good at dishing out perversion and degrading you but most can't take it when its your perversion and you degrading them. that is why i prefer bisexual women, women who know that sex is everywhere inside you and as the song says the last taboo was shattered by her tongue one night. + I think sex with women is more exciting, and easier than sex with men. I know women's bodies, they are my own body. By the nature of things having sex with women is more like masturbating, there is no coming to terms with the other. There is no Other. And usually women are adventurous than with men. This is vague and meaningless and horribly analytical,why am i writing this? No one will ever see it. Because i am horny and Chloe is at the store and William meeting some guy named Sil. William says he's cute. It would be really odd an unfathomable snychronistity if the Cary that they know is the same one i know...i'm tired of writing. i need coffee. + + +"To a person over 35 or 40 +the word "drug" means one +of two things: doctor-disease +or dope-fiend-crime. Nothing you +can say to a person who has this +neurological fix on the on the word +drug is going to change their mind." +-Dr Timothy Leary + + + Sitting at the twenty four hour diner and I wonder if I'm lost again. I wonder if i made some horrible mistake. I wonder if i should have been baptized? As if being born were a sin? What kind of fucked up belief is that? Welcome to hell, i guess. I want you to be naked always, i want you to be wild like a panther pacing the jungle. New York. timepiece. Dark bruises hanging low on bloody red brick world and the college kids smile absently at each other still snug in surrogate wombs. Eastern money all sick with age, death and decay do you even remember why you got rich or was it a hand out? I was brought here by money wanting for it that is. would you like to know what its like to not have it would you would you can you imagine. Money is a heavy hand; heavy when you got it heavier when you don't. And you dare to tell me what i ought to do what rules i ought to follow do you hear me labelling up your ugly world do you want to know what i think? Of course not you just hold your head up high hide behind your religions, your morals, your laws, your gods, your ceremonies, your traditions, your truth. You want to know what i think? Of course not. But you're going to one day I am going to be heard. I will write you a letter and you will hear it in your dreamsleep and it will seep into you like a virus and start to duplicate itself cell by cell until i break you down, pull out your stubborn beliefs and watch them in the pure light. And you will see your ugliness for what it is. And you will see that this is not the peacelove you can market and absorb and redirect like the 1960's. You will see it in the white light of nova ovens. It's William Burroughs at your doorstep with Hassan and me, and we will take back your ugliness and show it to all the galaxy and you will be afraid of yourself you will run from yourself and you will go nowhere. + Dear Boards, Syndicates and Cartels or the earth Jesse Helms and cold blooded mindless religioso idiots of all history, Newt Gingrich and all corrupt power mongers selling the souls that are not yours and never will be yours, Banking families of the earth locking down lives that are not yours and never will be yours; hear me now. What have you that i do not have what have i that you need why are you vampiring off bodies that are not yours to use? Where do you base your authority from in what powerless jungles do you hide? What wet swamps do your bellies stink of knees are muddied with could you find no way into the Quarter but this in your atom splitters in your denial religions you just couldn't keep the lid down because your filth games do not pull in this here. We are here and we are here to stay and you will hear it you will feel it you will taste it but not until we tell you sill you know it because your books do not have the puzzle do not have the key do not know what you are looking for. And in those moments of confusion we will tear you to shreads gnawing like demons, preying on your flesh, throwing your ripped entrails on the subway tracks and watching you grind into nothing. Not a thing. i am not a thing. + Acrid caffeine burned stomach linings peeling off the damn thing girl in charge rages —i need supplies, nutrients the front line is taking heavy casualties. Stop into a french bistro with awnings covered like the french flag. Ham and cheese under a better name. Up the street there is William he's with another man can't make out if he's cute or not. Quicken pace. Man is getting into a BMW smiling very cute looks familiar. + A Window in the back of the BMW rolled down and out popped Cary's smiling face. "Maya I heard you were in the east....would you like to come to the western lands?" + "This is so odd," she smiled back at him. She shifted her hips and leaned down to the window giving Cary a kiss on the cheek. "I dunno, is Mr. Burroughs going to be there...?" + "Of course." + "Well i don't have any money so i don't think i can go..." + "If you don't think you can go then you can't go, but i have something for you anyway, actually its for all of you," he gestured at William and smiled at Chloe as she came running from up the street. He handed an envelope to Maya. sorry i can't talk we've got to be in Costa Rica by morning..." His voice was overwhelmed by the passing of a truck. Maya kissed him again and ran around to the drivers door and tapped on the window as Cary said hello/goodbye to Chloe. + "I didn't get your name?" She said as the window lowered enough to show a pair of muddy green eyes. + "Sil," he said rolling the window the rest of the way down. His lips didn't seem to move and there was no expression on his face, but behind the eyes Maya saw the intensity of something enormous burning. She was instantly obsessed. + "I'm Maya," she held out her hand which he clasped and kissed gently. + "Its nice to meet you Maya. Have a nice stay." the car started up and Sil smiled at her for a brief second before rolling up the black tinted window and heading down the street. Maya stood there for a minute watching the car disappear into Harvard Square. You to she thought blankly. Chloe and William were holding the door for her, she floated upstairs with them. + "What's in the envelope?" William seemed anxious to Maya as she flopped down on the couch." + "lets see..." It was a rather large envelope and she tore it apart like a birthday present. Three passports and three airline tickets spilled out onto the floor. They gathered them up and realized that they needed to be at the airport in two hours. + "Cary's sending us to the flotilla..." William seemed amazed. + "The what?" + Maya was not paying attention she was staring at the ten one thousand dollar bills taped to the inside of her passport. She noticed that it was her picture but not her name. She also noticed that Chloe and William did not have money in their passports. Exchange in Madrid. ...better rates read the note. + + +Why do today what you did yesterday +and can do tomorrow anyway? +-Maya Stevens from A Game-Circuit Guidebook + + Gliding down out of those Elysian fields you often feel tired lonely and a little bit afraid that if death is not the end then what the hell really is going on around here???? Sometimes looking into and through the eyes of someone you don't even know you get the tragic silence of empty timespace tugging at those mindstrings that hide until the lonely hour of the morning when the I sees itself in the mirror, and tries to reconcile the emotions of so many different state of mind —bring the contradictions of emotion into focus— only to reveal them to be more juxtaposed than you had originally imagined. What happens to the sad eyed boys you loved, but never spoke to, lusted after but never kissed warm lips, never felt, salty tequila necks never licked in tropical humid splendor. What becomes of the non-events those give lifes its tragic beauty? It lends poets' enthusiasm, hearing centuries of events that failed to undergo the formality of actually occurring. + Is this occurred, is this happening, are you reaching me or am i reaching you and what is the difference.? What is the difference between an observer created universe existing -only for the individual- and a set of1x1000000000000000000000000000000000 +000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 multiverses all existing simultaneously? Why has everyone lost their wild-eyed enthusiasm for life? Why was i born in this strange cynical decade? What will you do when the whole thing goes up? Change tunnels involuntarily that's what you'll do; maybe you should start practicing? Do you ever feel hungry tireduglyhungry? Do you ever feel your fingers dancing on skin that isn't there? Slow motion glow of torpid rhythms, dancing like words —first there is skin, then there is no skin, then there is. Undulations felt time-ripple like, something Dali would approve of. From right up under torrid kisses a yearning gripping phantasmal emotion claws at you like rust. digging digging. Have you ever seen hungry eyes? gripped and held them for an instant that transcended TimeSpaceMind points and fell together in grace, like Dante's vision standing on its ear, staring you readydareugly in the face? Don't you want to go? don't you ever want to let go for a second? to see the approval oblivion lugs up behind it? Can you feel it? Its in foreign cities, lands you've only dreamed of. Have you ever wandered what it was exactly that makes the milk of paradise, what did Coolidge see? Have you ever wanted the elixir she carries in that elliptic second? Have you ever hungered? She's hungry yearning tie the tiger to a stick. That thing is going to eat your flesh in horrors you never thought could be true. Don't you want to go? We are here. Don't you want to go? + It was a couple of thousand desert miles and a few seasons ago and you were walking fast to catch a train you'd already missed. And a billboard ad that wasn't new two years ago, spent like a sperm poodle condom. You're just sitting in the red vinyl cushions at an all night diner spinning a few tracks on the jukebox, burying concrete +highway traces of noise, headlights dragging past. Calling up visions of lost highways, dredged out images blurred together; passing seasons traced out in the arks of headlights carved through concrete, and you pull to the side of the road recollecting missed side streets, passed exits and you haven't slept a moment since Taos years ago. Lying down in the back seat, A.M. only radio, and you're playing along on a dimestore guitar you got this past week for ten bucks in Las Crusas, New Mexico, traded it for dinner from a man who already heard music in the season's knew the uglysimpletruth and had no need to catch what you had missed. You drowned it out with desert miles spent walking on asphalt. Mescaline, Morphine and you tried to catch it, photographfreezeframed for an eternity's preservation, just as a moment slid by. Memory is seared to film. Another missed exit on desert highways, the dust turned to miles and passed you out on the two lane, rickety and prone to ruin in the seasons when you passed through; too tired not to stop at an all night diner for a Kerouac cherry pie on the plastic stools. Diner red, hard formica counters raised out of cold concrete floors —scuffed from the worn heels of trucker boots. Watch them treading season after season across the threshold and into the red glow just to rest wearied eyes and maybe spin a few tracks from days past. The waitress departs without a care for the miles missed and you're writing up a catalog of things to seedothink. Fresh customers arriving out of the chilled Kentucky mist. + Sad desert of two days driving slams you back down in the booth, speakers ease out the rhythm of headlights blearing past and the Las Crusas guitar reflects a Picasso shape on the concrete of the parking lot. Thee mist interrupting the even light just +to play proud chords of songs unwritten to mark the passing seasons. Missed out of haste, sown into concrete known only in diner light whose reflection is just fragmented enough with the past to see all the seasons. + Have you ever been hungry? + + Maya had never been to Europe or the Middle East nor had she been in a floating geodesic dome before. The plane touched down at midnight in Madrid. The three travellers were met at the airport by a limo; maya looked at the sleek black car and suddenly had a change of heart. She told them she would catch up in the next few days, reasoning that Cary would not have given her ten thousand dollars if he expected her to go straight to the flotilla. + From the airport Maya got a cab and attempted to lose herself in the night of Madrid. She walked in the crowded streets alone looking for a club or a bar in which she could pass the night. They buildings were white and the streets narrow she walked aimlessly for a while studying the shops and houses wondering what it was like to live somewhere that people had been living for nearly fifteen hundred years. The heavy fiction of history seemed to hang like vaporous lead fog on the streets. When Usincer's travel abroad they are forced to confront the fact that a two hundred year history is but a blip. Maya had never been on a street that was thousand years old in fact the one she was on now had been repaved in 1986, but this did not enter into her thoughts she was thinking that at least some street had been here for a thousand years. Eventually she came to a series of side-streets and alleys that overflowed with bars,cafe's and clubs; drunken Europeans spill out onto the streets and she felt drunken Spanish eyes leering at her. Spanish: Senorita! Come here, you need someone? I'll take care of you eh? We dance make love. Maya ducked in bar without acknowledging them she ordered scotch and sat at the bar for a while listening to the swirling sounds of Spanish and French. She could translate snippets here and there: fuck the government! chinga this and chinga that. Maya hadn't been around real Spanish before, but she recognized traces of bastardized Mexican cuss words and slang. The bar was packed and hot the walls were red and Maya felt the stench of centuries of people with poor bathing habits. Usincer's are a clean obsessed people Maya thought as she finished her scotch and headed toward the door.She went to akl;sdjf lkj, the adfdkjf, and then to a club with the promising name of 69. It was here that she ran into a boisterously drunk American who claimed he was a doctor. + Waiben was leaving when Maya arrived, but the presence of a beautiful white girl convinced him to stay. She noticed him primarily because he was the only white person in the club which reminded Maya that she too was white and that she too probably stuck out every bit as much in this sea of olive-brown faces. But, Maya paid him little mind and settled herself at the bar ordering another scotch. She got her drink and turned around to see Dr. Waiben standing. leaning against a pole and staring at her. She felt an ill vibe about his person and turned back around to the bar, but he came up and leaned in next to her ear. "Are you from Usinc?" + She did not turn to look at him and continued to roll her scotch back and forth on the bar shuffling it between her hands like an ice puck. + "Excuse me miss are you from Usinc?" + "Je Ne Sais Pas?" she smiled and shook her head. + Waiben was quite drunk and he started to ask again only louder like people do when the realize that someone doesn't understand them as if they will when you say it at twice the volume. He caught himself and simply smiled. He stared at her in a way she recognized: hungry. She could tell that deep down he would like to deposit some or preferably all of his sperm on her, Maya knew that was men's first thought when they saw her or any woman for that matter, and Maya was well aware of her biological power over men. She let her spaghetti strap slide down her shoulder so that he could see the top of her breast better. His eyes followed it and she wiggled in her stool and leaned forward to get a napkin, playing him like a fiddle. He just kept staring at her finally her turned and mumbled under his breath and into his drink "Sleep with me you stupid french cunt." But loud enough that Maya caught it. She turned looked him dead in the eyes and said: "If I went to bed with you you won't live through the experience...insecure pencil dicked Usinc businessmen have never turned me on anyway." + He stared at her trying to absorb the impact and looking like a Yugo that's been hit by a cement truck. Maya smiled and stared back, reading him. He was a curious man; medium build and of nondescript stature, the kind of person who passes without notice on a crowded Usinc street. Perfectly nondescript and it gave her the creeps, Maya knew that its the ones that you don't notice that you have to watch out for. + "Actually I'm a doctor," he said lamely. + "That's the best you can do?" she smiled again. "What was your name?" + "Dr. Waiben." + "Well Dr. Waiben it was nice to meet you," she held out her hand and he shook it. Maya sucked down the rest of her drink and set it on the bar. "Would you like another drink?" she could tell Waiben thought this was his big chance, men like to think that if they give you something it means you will give them something in return. They liked that logic so much they built an entire society based on it. Maya hated the barter system and never sold her conversation for drinks. She smiled an artificial ironic smile and said yes waited until he turned to get the bartenders attention and then ducked out the door and into the Spanish night. She hit he street running and laughing outloud much to the amusement of two men kissing in darkened doorway. she answered them with catcalls and a whoop chinga me el nino.... for the first time she felt free and continued running down the Madrid street paying no attention to where she was going. Eventually she found a hotel and got a room. + The next day Maya bought a laptop computer and after much haggling and showing of money got the man at the store to give her a number of another man that claimed he could get her modem that could dial off of payphones. she got a bus ticket to Marabella in the south of Spain which her pocketguide to Spain said was where all the rich and famous movie star types hang out. This, she reasoned, is usually where all the fun stuff goes on —in the houses of the rich and richer. The bus ticket was third class which Maya always travelled so that she could see the countryside and be able to stop frequented to smoke joints or get something to eat. She typed on the bus not worrying about the eyesore nature of a beautiful Usinc woman wearing jeans and a tank top listening to headphones and typing on a laptop on a nineteen seventies bus full of working class Spanish citizens lumber over the hills. From a payphone in aklsdjf kadjf she emailed Cary a message on how to go about getting a boat and shared a hash cigarette with a boy that looked about fifteen and spoke no Usinc. he approached her smoking form shyly and asked something in Spanish which Maya took to mean he wanted her cigarette, she handed it too him and he puffed on it and smiled at her after a thoughtful pause, "lkasdjf?" She took it to mean hash she smiled si. he rambled for sometime in Spanish gesturing occasionally toward the town. Maya caught some of it it seemed like he was offering her something food perhaps, but she declined No grasias and bid him farewell getting back on the bus. It took the better part of the day and into the night to get to Marabella. Maya was tired and went straight to the first hotel and crashed out for the night. + She woke up the next morning and wired herself up to the internet expecting directions to a boat of some sort. Instead there was a map of Marabella with a cafe highlighted and a note below it that read see you here at eleven. Maya looked at the clock it was already ten thirty she threw on her clothes and ran to catch a cab. the drive wound through the town and Maya saw the Mediterranean for the first time. The town reminded her of New Orleans must have looked a hundred years ago whitewash buildings and wrought iron railings. New Orleans if it had been on a hill. The cab dove down the hill and into waterfront plaza littered with Orange Trees and sidewalk vendors. Lovely, Maya murmured in an British accent, imagining some snotty old British bitch delighting in the mock authenticity of Marabella isn't it just lovely.... + Cary was sitting at table in front of cafe klajdklf eating eggs. he got up and gave Maya a hug, offering her a seat. + "I see you decided to take advantage of the opportunity to travel...you don't have guilt circuit cut yet though or you would have just said hey can you send a boat for me... + I didn't want to put you out...' + "No one ever puts me out if i want to do something that i am able to do i do it, if i don't i don't. I find this greatly simplifies what most people call domestic life and leaves me free to do more interesting things: the why's how's and whatfor's.... He smiled, "now for the funny part " and Maya got the lecture that Sil had gotten many years earlier. + + + +Within the province of the mind, What I believe +to be true is true or becomes true, within the limits +to be found experientially and experimentally. +These limits are further beliefs to be transcended. + —Dr John C Lilly from The Center of the Cyclone + +October 23,1999 Two weeks later and i feel a little better —less motion sickness. Went into something like a trance state last night with the sensory depravation chamber and the mushrooms. Cary kept asking me what i saw when i couldn't really make out anything that was describable he gave me a book how to build maps in hyperspace or something of that nature. Mostly i felt cold as if i were on a wind blown desert mesa or something to that effect. Sense of dread and anticipation like you feel when starting a trip that you know will not be easy, but i never went anywhere. Sat around in the bar last night with Chloe and Cary talking about the potential effects of being able to receive all the information in a ten dimensional lattice work universe such as ours. The question being: would computers be capable of translating dimensions the we don't normally have ocular reference points in? In other words Cary was arguing that if implanting new programs in the human mind is through chemical means does that mean that addition things could be seen if chemical were cross referenced (so to speak) with digitally enhanced ocular images? Light conversation around here. That's the thing i can't get over is that there are so much information stored here in computers in nanocreatures and human nervous systems its absolutely incredible. And Cary continues to baffle me in way that no one ever has before without me wanting to sleep with them. Not that i haven't had sex with him, he took me through a wide array of tantric and other sex magic traditions the other day and i came so hard i saw other universes the satori things eastern mystics are always raving about. But it wasn't erotic it was just sex. Really damn good sex. Sometimes i think Cary has cracked the code and knows things the rest of us aren't going to know until after we die and sometimes i think he's just as clueless as the rest of us he just happens to be the guy with the money. I asked him about that this morning and he looked at me for really long time like i was insane. He got that very thoughtful look on his face like i can tell when he finally hits at emotion; he said just because you're dead doesn't mean you stop programming your consciousness. You just don't do it with your body anymore. I take that to mean that he is a trickster like the rest of the religious people of the world, he just tricks me into thinking about things i find enjoyable where as David Koresh did not. + Still haven't met Sil Hawkard again and no one seems to know where he is or when of even if he is coming back. I just remember the piercing green eyes that sparkled and laughed while the face did nothing. Apparently i am not alone in obsessing over his eyes everyone here says that one of the things they notice about him is that her never looks directly into their eyes. When he talks he seems miles away that's what William said when i asked him about him on the plane. But everyone seems to like him or at least respect him even if they don't understand. I heard a story the second day i was here that he had vanished and that not even Cary knew where he was. Apparently he lived here for about four years leaving to conduct some experiments in south America but always going back here never said mush just watched. Some days he just sat in the bar and smoked hash and stared at the walls other days he would just read magazines or watch and laugh as people went about their jobs. they said they never felt that he was laughing at them rather that he laughed because he liked the way he felt when he was laughing. I asked Cary about it that and he just started laughing. He gave me a book that Hawkard wrote though, something called the rubber octopus I read most of it in a day. Very confusing jumbled sort of book that felt more like an interpersonal wrestling match between the author and the story then it did a novel. I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't and characters would appear without explanation and disappear again and he kept reminding the reader that they are reading a book and that he is in there mind. I am writing a new program in your mind sentences would start and then he would go on to say thinks like UFO's are real i saw one in August 4 2954 on a dirt road in Oklahoma. It was still dark just an hour before sunrise i was driving a '69 Ford truck, the sky was black and the only thing i could see was the road in front of me and then there was a flash and two figures approached me and offered me pancakes and then got back into their spaceship and took off again. then the text would digress into language experiments with semantics and Linguistics. It gives you the feeling that the author is brilliant, but doesn't care if you follow him or not he just wants you to have a good time. And the sex scenes...if he can actually have sex as well as he writes it... he needs to come back here so I can test that theory. + + +November 19, 1999 I flew with Cary to Paris today to have some more tests done on his brain to see if he indeed has a tumor. He still hasn't mentioned anything to anyone yet, he doesn't seem to be bothered by it, but i cried all night last night. + +November 23, 1999 Cary is going to die. the doctors give him two months tops. I flew back alone to the Flotilla he said there were some things he needed to do, but that he would come to have a bon Voyage party. He seemed genuinely excited about death, maybe he is in denial. + +November 29. 1999 Cable received on the antique telegraph machine in Cary's office read: + A thousand apologies for not being able to return.stop.I leave all of you with sufficient funds to continue the facilities into the near future.stop.shutting down costa rica facility all persons there return to Flotilla if it strikes your fancy.stop.smile.stop.i died yesterday and sil is dictating this to the woman at the telegraph office.stop.remember if death is not the end then what the hell is really going on around here.stop. + +STOP.STOP.STOP.STOP.STOP.STOP.STOP.STOP.STOP.STOP.STOP.STOP.STOP +21717 words 58 pages |