in girum imus nocte et consumimur igni

There is no.

A = Lone. 1 + 1 = 20

abdg

there is no c.

see the sea?

the children's circle is lost in the forest!

"No!" is there.

V.I.T.R.I.O.L.

take the purple pill

in girum imus nocte et consumimur igni

Turns out I am a hippy. Let's gather the evidence: a). I eschew de-odorant. b). I shower w/ peppermint Dr. Bronner's. d). i have re-soled my Birkenstocks twice. e). Long hair, duh.

Only, i'm not a peace and love hippy, I'm a real life nephew of my Uncle Charly - who was a real life nephew of Uncle Aleister, who is a god-father to the new Æon. we are the pretty things, come to drive your mommas and poppas insane…

Let me make plain, I'm talking about the Homo Superiour.

But then, I was looking in my high school yearbook and it is true what Hoss Jones sed. Everyone at McCullough High School knew I was insane.

Nothing has changed - I have brakes, a little, and can gear down now, when I couldn't before.

high as august not cold enuf to snow but dress like ambiguous november day
some in shorts and sweaters
bare mid-riffs and heavy leggings
some parts of us feel the cold more intensely.
the children as high as campers --- they are
little beasts frightening as monkeys as innocent as monkeys
our heritage shows clearest when we are very young.
the very old creep like children, i mean babies
some as wise and pleasantly malicious as turtles
last nite the wildest child and her accomplice
(tho which of the two were wildest
perhaps depends on the perspective of whether you'd been
headlong rushed in the stomach
look, they made you make that sound dogs, fathers and sufis say
"w-uf")
in a hysterics only partly pretend ran thru the gathering of tolerant adults
"the monster is coming, the monster's almost here"
i wondered how they knew
and if their monster were the monster
i was playing dead for
maybe that hoarse rumbling breath is a
bear
bears are magickal and scary but not necessarily evil
bears are cousins to lycanthropes like me
bears understand, in their hearts,
that the horrid bloddy mess i made of you all
that hideous matted mess all in my hair
(you shd see his insides, hairy as the wild man of the forest - Orang-Utang, gentle
and civilized as a cross between wolves and dogs)
did i speak up? no… what do bears understand?
does the children's monster care? does doing
this
did it count?
[envoie]
Laurence Talbot, brother,
you sought your release
did the vampyre and frankenstein's monster
give you what you sought?
[aside]
i never saw any other of those films but read the story by Harlan Ellison of your descent into yourself
some forgotten childhood things
no silver bullets.

Only the Good
die young... hmmm?

ENFORCE IT

Her Flesh Is Rotting Fast, 

if my delusions can be relied on i met a small child about 3-5 in 1994 in Alabama in a truck stop. you showed what must have been the first person in your life who had piercings. your unborn psychick sister was tuned into my station and told me the story as i told the story. I was very well received on a planet known in the local dialect closest to indo-european as Ocyn…

hey little girl yer not so little anymore. do you remember meeting a hitchhiker in a truck stop in south centrol Alabama somewhere - possible on I40, nah, fuckit. i was in Alabama. at a truck stop i met a female child of about 3-5 years old who got my attention and she lead to the back of the store. There was a map of the United States showing the State University college colours for each state. I suddenly understood the changes in colours as i made my great spiral - i'm seeing the effect on local team spirit. ha. spirit. colours are spirit. are.are. Rrrrrrrrrrrgh!


i am inviting you to interact w/ my writing which one might categorize as Science Fiction Poetry.

Lecture Series 97

tonite's topic: marijuana as psychoto-palliantive. if i am no good than to sit in the corner and think my weird thoughts then that is the best that hosticulturalists have come up w/ - there hasn't been a market demand for marijuana that causes euphoric hypomania because experience marijuana users are willing to sacrifice the energy and commitment to life to St. 1.

Dr Jewy Jewwerstein, the M.D./homeopath argues that since marijuana induces a psychotic state - dissocisation and the rest…

i cannot count up the refusal of an offer of some marijuana w/ the explanation 'everytime i smoke pot i get paranoid.'

Proverbs for Paranoids, 3: If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don't have to worry about answers.

dude, i'm trying to be nice, i get it. if i stopped enjoying mild euphoria you would say there way something was wrong w/ me. there is something wrong this notes evidence for the cosmic remedy. i summon across Time and Her ∞ Pluribilities to perfect blend of vibrational 'tracers' of a plant or environmental condition perfect for my healing.

I learned the above lesson in a dream. King Arthur was there, but he sneared at my as a young upstart. i have no royal blood. Why was there no Sir James Watt? because he was a Scotsman. if my forbear had been invited into the inner fold - ha! you will find yourself in Scotland no matter how high the road, nor how lost you ultimately come.

IF i am right the Great Bay Quake will happen in my lifetime, in my visualization the muddy's at 16th and Valencia. Most of the worst of the damage was in the east bay. If you call me a witch for cursing the Rincon Tower to fall when our Mother shinnies and shakes, and all the king's horses cdn't meld your broken system. call it capitalism (ha, our masters fear true unfettered capitalism more than they do communism. communism is commonly held to be ideal in some sense, but impractical in others. Like: how do we get there from here?

So,

Oh yeah, like Pirate Jenny "Hopla! All of them!"

My parents reached to the graves with tears in their eyes.

well, the part i didn't mention is that none of the books for his class have hit our school bookstore yet. decided to drop a class that was on friday. if the instructor actually uses the textbook, based on the table of contents, way too hard a class to take the same semester as an advanced english class, which will be a challenge to all my procrastination habits.


Construction to cause inconvenience to your understanding

the loudness. there's a magick in the Line 6 delay modeler only made more so by using the pedal to change the character of the delay, using a number of simulations settings that replicate vintage sounds. I am using a setting that emulates an 80s delay pedel, perhaps even the same Boss Giselle Hate sang thru in deadgirl. her lyrics more haunting by the delay and the performance haunted by feedback. that period did not record well. if Timmy has the tapes. A part of me has the belief that Timmy has deadgirl recordings that i have not heard. that perhaps have yet to be digitized.

if you choose to call me, i have less than 100 minutes.

(my phone is the cheapest phone possible, and tho x gigabytes are mine, they'd make more money charging by the minute haha. my crappy phone is almost useless as a way onto the web. but only almost, and when someone isn't breathing down your neck for the answer ("where is that gallery - I want the address and aren't happy w/ your it's between y and z on Mission St." her roommates phone had the info before my phone had even connected.)



http://mullanasrudinjokes.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2009-08-26T01:38:00-07:00&max-results=7



I bear witness that you are a stupid prophet
A certain man claimed to be a prophet and was brought before the Sultan, who said to him, "I bear witness that you are a stupid prophet!" The man replied, "That is why I have only been sent to people like you."


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IlqNqeb3mfM

http://www.terrastemple.com/


a selection for public consumption of material from my iClip widget that creates a history of all times you *copy* - this is retarded to people who are in the habit of conposing in an autosave enviroronment. ;-) Auntie Flame

i have abandoned facebook's editor frof for blogger but i am soon desert to wordpress. 2 instructors at City college are offering courses that involve wordpress that my not be part of the curriculum i signed up as an animator:

http://test.kenne.org/flash.html

this started as a rant that disappeared from the facebook interface and that iClip did not capture. fuck.

The Hanged Man

[the Fool places dog collar and hands The Hanged Man the leash]

stumble, tumbled
what is happening?
it’s beautifull, man…

stumble, tumbled
i meant to do that…
it was meant to happen.

a moment i hesitate ---
Headlong into the Abyss is my greatest desire.
Alone,
dive to the top out .v thin air
Alone,
falling forever
‘falling out .v a hole’
into the white light .v Eternal Being

stumble, tumbled
a step .v a 1000 miles begins w/ a single journey
spun about,
Surrender Dorothy!
you’re Rounded,
heels, head, belly in-between

I want to see it all
Lose my head to the all .v iT
Lose my way the wrong way on the straight path
Down!

stumble, tumbled
I see it all,
my head on the straight path
my feet struggle in every which direction
HA! see,
still attached,
tangle, dangled
Never lost the dog, at the end .v my rope
connected to the dog who has no name, wise as Lassie, and as Super as a dog can be.

Labels: Abyss, aliester crowley, black magick, Tarot, the dog, Thoth, Vertigo, wooga

my way of understanding my ability to change my appearance and eventually bi-locate was to call myself a werewolf. tho werehuman might be more accurate. i got involved w/ a group on another planet and attended the Parliament of the Animals and got Galactic Culture interested in our progress. I was frequently interacted w/ by masons and others on more out-there magickal paths. I dictated a psychick novel that was a huge success off earth. and came back to this world in serious need of protection which i did not get. i went to jail in Beaumont, Texas where i raved for days. thankfully they held me in jail instead of sending me to a psychiatric facility. in order to get out, i had to hide most of my powers and create a persona that keeps the Hidden Masters off my back. to an adept trying to read me i am only another one of those 'crazy' people who accidentally stumbled onto some secrets. no threat to them or their plan. this world is not the one i am from originally. that one was destroyed in an atomic war August 12th, 1989. i escaped from Ground Zero into this world, or one like this one. in the Real World earth was in an atomic war in the 60s. the psilent police (a time traveling team who keep pushing earth into more unlikely pluribilities in order to preserve humanity.) there are certain moments in Time that are so tied up in Time Manipulation that they resonate w/ certain nitemares that keep repeating in history. resolving these Knots is our task. as earth bound creatures the one technique that works is to re-remember what happened, giving new meaning to past events. this mental act can change the trend of the present, opening more futures. i know and yet my reception returning to Earth was so shattering that psych meds were necessary to ground me back. there was no one willing to take on the personal task of rebuilding my soul. psychiatry was the only game in town, in Texas, in 1994. i came back to San Francisco the winter of 1996 will 3 months supply of pills and got into the system here, where i was guided thru the process of getting SSI. i got my benefit in August of 96. it has not kept me from repeated bouts of homelessness, but by 2001 i was well enough to attend City College and meet a woman who can't be blamed for not understanding the depths of my illness. when we met i was as stable as i have ever been, slightly manic, thus magnetic, and i made the choice to give a committed relationship a chance w/ Alison. (my desire was to have another go at promiscuity powered by manic magnetism - but those sorts of affairs don't last. and i am sentimental and want the emotional bond that isn't usually of part of casual encounters - so i took a chance on a fine romance).

i have seen the end of everything, and i see a wave of horror about to engulf our planet. i hear the singular consciousness screaming. i know the New Biota which will replace us. i know that a fleet of starships is coming from our sister planet in the Sirius B system. there is rebellion on the planet of the greys, and we have allies among the rebels. i know that the fæ are willing to consider a reconciliation of the worlds. and some one born september 11th, 1966 has the chart of the Master of the Age. and that the ecological crisis is worse than civilians can imagine, but biologists are despairing, and there is no hope for most species. it's too late for many ecosystems. it may be too late for the atmosphere to undergo a transformation that will give rise to a CFC life cycle - the New Biota. all that is too much. no one wants to hear it. esp the consensus reality parts for which there is proof. the crazy talk part people tune out.

you are just like me. one of them. all of us alike in thinking we are important. whether i am important or not is moot right now. but you, you really are the one. Operation Clusterfuck had so many operatives muddying the time stream they will never find you now.

y R 1.v.theM.

there's a house by the sea. it stands on a cliff and sometimes is abandoned, and sometimes is not there at all. the time machine is in the attic, and you cannot access the attic from inside. out on the roof then, and in a small window. a small room distinguished only by having the only working time machine this side of Hell.

The Black Iron Prison at the end of time. It's kenne and hitler in Superman's fortress. jesus drops in every forever and then. y come to hell for parts. Superman f'sure kept everything from Old Earth.

carefully. He knows y R listening to mE---
one of the characters is Stephen Tuttle. his mother is a witch. married now to a regular guy ---- he takes care of her children, and baby, who is his. Dr. Boo!, Stephen’s father, the Psychick Mathematician
e---
stephen wants to kill himself. the only frenz he has are Assholes. theBob (the frenliest of TheM) has named Stephen Tuttle ‘turtle!’, mostly because of the resemblance of sound, but it fit, like most of theBob’s nicknames. ‘turtle!’ was a good sport about it, being his first taste of notoriety. The Assholes had a name for all the losers --- Richard Bateman was ‘Master’ and all the Assholes would pretend to bow down to him. Stephen didn't get that one at first. Stephen hates his only real fren, Sherri Hershberger, who sees so much in Stephen and is the only one who doesn’t call him ‘turtle!’. she won’t have sex w/ Stephen. She sees how he looks at all the Beautifull Girls, and he doesn’t look at her like that. Sherri pretends to be a virgin. The Assholes call Sherri 'Fuckable'. No one calls her that to her face. Stephen told her. Stephen wishes Sherri wd. fuck him (out of mercy, or something) none of the Beautifull Girls want him.

theBob yells “Hey… ‘turtle!’” and like turtles always do, Stephen cringes.

Dr. Boo! is a scientist, and before he disappeared had published a book of children’s stories he had told Stephen at bedtimes. Adventures in his world gone wanka, that tells the secrets of Stephen’s lineage, and like Alice, is not Alice. A≠A. Alice cd. be ne1 ≈ Alison's Adventures when she is not Alice. POW! to the Moon… ten feet tall… no where at all. (Stephen's real sister is Alison. She won't talk about Dr. Boo! or that stupid book. She is lost in BubbaLand, and hangs out w/ Kickers).
Stephen lost his copy. Sherri Hershberger has a copy but she won’t let Stephen have it. theBob has a copy, signed by Dr. Boo! himself. And has no idea that the Psychick Mathematician is ‘turtle!’s dad. Mrs. macKillop (Stephen’s mom’s new name) has a box of them, unopened, in the attic. Stephen has no idea.

Stephen is a werewolf and can’t sleep at nite. He lies awake in the dark planning how things are going to be when all of TheM finally recognize that Stephen is The Most Important Person Alive. He knows. His real father told him so.

Once after partaking of a nibble of amanita muscaria, a færie that looked like Betty Rubble flew out at me and hovered in front of my face in a classic Tinkerbell pose like a hummingbird. She tapped me on the third eye with her magick wand and a part of my personality went transcendant.

If you accept the reality of drug experiences then I really saw a færie. Otherwise, yes, I was on drugs.

The Færie can be thought of fungus consciousness interacting with with humanity mediated on entheogens.

There are many people who claim a natural connexion to the Fæ, and don't need drugs to be assured of their presence. Another way of understanding Them is as Vortices of Intention whirling out of the Life Force. Oh, wait, Science has dismissed the Life Force. The Cosmos has no Intention in the Scientific World View.

If all of the Natural World is Alive, Aware, and has Intention, then the Fæ are the Personification of the Consciousness of Nature. And Something Alien. The Fæ are Nature and Wholly Other. In some ways they cannot be understood. The Rational World View has no 'valid category' for 'that which cannot be understood'. A≠A is the central mystery seemingly vanquished failing to accept contradictions.

There are færies in the garden, but mostly they hide from you. The Fæ mock your Occam's Razor, piling on premises until Reality shimmers with Ridiculousness.

“it ends here” Steven writes. "the dirty sun falling behind glass." Stephen looks up and out the window at the glowing green el dorado that is downtown Houston. Otherwise known as the outermost circle of Hell, which Steven thinks of as the Event Horizon. Because once you come to Houston there's no going back, gravity sucks. Nothing happens 'here', because there is no. There, there Steven, it's not so miserable as all that. You have your records, the stereo you bought mowing a summer's worth of grass (yer step-father went in halfs, so you got a pretty good one, a Pioneer.) Listen---James Blood is singing
"R you happy to be in Amerika?"
The answer is no. Stephen hates Amerika.He has a feeling Amerika hates him back.
"where's my awesome job?
where's my beautifulll house?
how do i get the girl and
'live happily ever after'?"
Stephen wants to know.

Houston is in the red zone of a nuclear bulls-eye, good riddance. "it is beautifull up here" Stephen admits. "the smudge of sky above" he writes "blurred of diffraction..." He's trying to tell you about living under a dome of smog, dripping w/ asthma. To seal his social status: outcast, Stephen has frequent nose bleeds.

Houston is the dome city symbol of the future. sure is hot there.
i don't know how to write a SF novel.
there is a small room Stephen shares w/ the Roommate. a stereo dominates the window, which looks out toward downtown. we've written this part before. i will have to write it again, having lost those notebooks. houston was hardly 20 feet above sea level up to the 20th century. as the ice caps melted the sea was held back w/ dikes. what if, in the future™, they built a fullerdome over houston.
over houston? i've read a lot of pscience® fiction. my debt is owed to delany, russ and disch. delany read joyce and wanted to write a major novel. i read delany and now i want to write this. about a boy who is psychick in a city where computers are alive.
i can only proceed as if i were being guided. every sentence is perfect. w/ an explanation.
what if in the future™ the future really came true? not in a horrifying and banal way like p. k. dick, but beautifull and sad. Always.

the different between being crazy and really knowing cosmic secrets is the difference between psychick and psycho. ick! and ooh… i don't see pictures when people talk. i'm not psychick at all. psychics are always trying to read my mind just to find out what i am about. i don't see pictures when people talk which makes listening to long stories boring. i don't go places during sex either. i walk the middle path, Heaven on Earth. “dear, i don't think you should hang out w/ heroin addicts.” [Barbara Bennett's mom, after meeting Herbert Hunke.] junkies are more psychick than than ordinary people. they can read my mind.

being psychick is like being stoned on one one of those 23 skidoo days. it's an eviction party. 3d2c is a random message. What I Tell You 3X Is True. 4X.≅M. dissonance.
cursive is fast writing.
dogs bark.
white earth.
p.o.e.m.

Those who know never forget. Do you remember the Turtles? "They go to sleep…" Whirled into If, Lie there and forget about iT.
Always…

Labels: bu, hu, mE, R, sigil, werewolf, wooga, y

and all the antecedents pertaining to them.

Gravity Of Lies from the album "Io" by Emily Grogan

"Who doesn't like boobs?" sez TranceMagick
"What's there not to like?" I can hear DethCamp Bill sayin' in his Ol' Codger voice.

I personally am friends w/ a man who prefers small boobs, just so. His enthusiasm prompted me to reconsider what I had previously looked over as too scant. My friend may not even know what affect he has had on my life…

River (Depot Song) from the album "There's A Fire" by Longwave
All boobs are good but my teaching today concerns big boobs. Fortunately I happen to have some handy. Giselle Hate painted a scenario involving tickling the boobs w/ the mustache.
"What, are you growing to grow a mustache?"
"Why, I guess if your going to grow a mustache for it, be my guest." I think.
"No, I mean if I were you, dummy."
That got me thinking about many possibilities.

you hafta make eye contact
i got hit in the crosswalk, i forgot---
i feel safer jaywalking

this is how he tells it: &#009 like a dream&nbsp&nbspdreamslow/ vivid and acid/ falling. like waking to a flim critic lounge-ing across yr bed analysing the dreams y've just had:  &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&#147derivative imagery lifted wholesale from Slaughterhouse-5, eraserhead&nbsp&nbspobscure fantasies of john crowley&#148 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspno no sez the newspaper reader the pretentious &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspit's homage &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspan evocation shake that off &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspit was pretend &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspa dream dreamslow falling and the boy falling and dreamvivid terror and dreamwaking&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspfigure what it cd. mean &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspthe story from the middle dreamdarkness total dark midnite ocean and &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspdrowning. dreamdarkness ocean vast intimate as a &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspcloset fall fall &nbsp&nbspinto ocean dark stormmidnite and &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspdrowning a boy &nbsp&nbsp all his clothes oceandeep &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspwhite waves it's a matter of ratios &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspsurface and volumn something about surface he tries to think like a bug on the top of the water he tries to breathe frogskinned must be plenty of O in the crushing foam &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp he's bugskinfrogboy &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp wishing to be a shark &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp he's drowning but he's falling dreamslow &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp and dream ages to touch solid bottom &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp (never make it&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp too &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp much&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp hungryswimming)
water is the first element darker than stone &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspthe boy (fox) is (fox) not (fox) thinking (fox) &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp about (fox) stones (fox) &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp water opens water
the water like a film of rising bubbles run backwards &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp the water &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp No, collapses storm wavescrashing forgotten and the boy is falling

water is the first stone colder than ice
fist the fire thirst the fish fire stones fist thirst fish stop &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp stop.

once:––there was.
stars and grass.
all y˙˙˙ need to know.
later, we found rocks.
(we had forgotten about
water)
then;
again––it was all of us.
w/ fire, we discovered wood.
and around:––we found
ourselfs around the fire/
this was good.
we had that; a bunch of word
some that meant things
others y˙˙˙ point w/, most words didn't mean anything
just ideas, stuff to talk about.
(we had a lot of Time
on our hands)


can y˙˙˙ hear it?
the sounds words make
linger in yr chest, leave
impression on yr throat
then it was:––we knew;
words are alive
forms w/out presence
absent seas
(NOW, y˙˙˙ see,
we remember–––we came out of the water the dolphins our cousins
taught us to sing
we left the sea
to sing of monkey things)

i didn't write down the lecture, just the notes passed back and forth between psychic^ks on other planets.

falling backlight to the home you've never been. II.
these roads are familiar: i've been here before. again.
the red road looks blue.
looks brown. turns green.
All roads lead to the black stone. an index of metals.

how 4am turns to 5:30 and hope of returning to bed turns toward the idea of coffee. Coffee!

the Night Watchers sit awake waiting. When They left, taking Them away, They told Us, “Wait here forever and make sure nothing happens.”

Well, i made Nothing^k happen.™ [i marked iT^k with a k, for kenne. It's o.k. w/ Me–– if y˙˙˙ use iT^k.™] and it's been forever already. can i go Home now?

one R (Smiley-faced red letter R); the baby alone, afraid of strangers but every one she knows is stranger than you are.

y˙˙have ∞ dualities---paper or plastic, for here or to go, Alice or Elizabeth, Gina or Amy…∞dualities, everyone is there. you & y˙˙˙; A≠A, when Alice does not equal her self, who is she when she is ten feet tall? PoW!! to the moon! this side, when Alice isn't herself she is Alison. Alison has adventures of her own; Alison's Adventure in BubbaLand,

The Very Slow Werewolf doesn't undergo his transformation in just a month. The Very Slow Werewolf takes years to go from smooth and hairless, meek and mild. Just a guy, like any other, growing a gut, growing tired, growing hairier every year, a Sleepy Teddy Bear kinda guy, but inside he is wild. The old hunger grows, the hunger of our people to rend and tear, bloody-muzzled, out of no where loners no more, savage and destructive. Sworn enemies of the Vampyre and their Zombie slaves. No dainties’ morsels “Blood from the neck---it is only the essence I seek…” We pull out from you streaming gobs of liver and lights, red w/ hunger, sated only by meat. We can smell the taint of the Vampyre on their chosen victim. It gives us great murderous joy to ruin a mortal for the sweet surrender into the arms, intangible made flesh thru desire, all that Romantick garbage, no surrender, no love beyond death,, because the Very Slow Werewolf kinda just ambles into your Scene, Vampyre man, and breaks the mood for delicate horror w/ some very real terror and death. Werewolves only fear dying to be undead, weakened, slave. Vampires are immortal, but they had to die to get there. Witches die and then return to be themselves, but wake to the new life forgotten the old, and none to guide them back. Zombies die when the will that drives them dies, the bound flesh undone. Only the Werewolf, shapeshifter, can find the key to immortality in the body, ageless, almost unkillable (the head must be destroyed). The Very Slow Werewolf has found the key, a potion, the spell to tell iT® right. A≠A. Alice is not herself today. 23 Skidoo, the code is bu. figure it out yourself.