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"Life is tough, it is not what we thought it was, and we too are not whom we thought we were, and somewhere in the shifting of both these worlds our identity gets lost and we have to play some game. If evil is to be expected in life then it can do us no harm. We all cared at one point but I didn’t want to live forever if life is fake, but you know what? Life isn’t fake at all, not one bit of it. There is such a complex web of life to keep the real here it is only the fake who get escorted out of the building." (a quote from Vampirerave by Vampariah)

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I used to think the Bible was babble too when I was your age. I discounted the brainwashing of convergent sheep thinkers. But I came to a point in life where this amazing red carpet under my feet was pulled out from under me during some long played out scam where I lost my belief in life, & everything that I was taught had holes in it, to the point where even science failed me, & then came this mystical book that never made sense to me, because I had never been at that point of weakness to notice things from the point of view of the writers of the Bible. The Bible was put out there as a catch all, to have a text from which to relate to when the individual has fallen off the face of the Earth; to address the things already agreed to be left out from the first universities, not too long ago.

The Bible was such an offensive device, that anytime the word Bible was mentioned I shut my eyes & closed my mind to it. But like I said, I knew I had fallen thru the cracks & I had entered into a new way of receiving knowledge, I had a hunch the Bible was going to make sense at that point; & I was right. I hope your blue face & desire for constant immediate instant gratification never strays into the diorama of the examined life that will make you relate to the subtext & shadow of knowledge, true wisdom. I understand I used the B word, & you closed your mind - but I illustrated quite simply the story of Pilates when Jesus is doing his healing spell, they meet. Maybe I didn't make myself clear. You see, Jesus says if you want to be healed, all you have to do is reach out & touch me. Now, Jesus is standing up when he said that, but the Bible was meant to be read after he died, so this allegory is meant to be shifted to the point when you are so fucked up from disabilitated degenerative diseases that place a man on his back to the point where he cannot even fetch food to make it thru the next weak. So I am there on my back with frozen shoulders, & Jesus says reach out and touch me, so I put my fucked up arm in the air, because Jesus is up there now, no longer walking the Earth. & I have full comprehension that Pilates is exercise while in a horizontal position. On my back, with my hand up in the air, with my arm free from gravity - I was able to do small motions with my arm, that nurses my fucked up arm to health. Yeah it took months, but it came back, & it came back because of that Jesus Pilates healing spell.

Now you bring an interesting point that so many writers contradict each other in the bible, & you haven't gotten to the point of infirmity where the Bible begins to make sense yet, but I am just saying just because you can't see the value in it doesn't mean that it isn't valuable. I am not trying to convert anyone, & I am not religious at all, but this is not to say that scripture is worthless. Life is like a street corner in the night where something amazing just happened a moment before, & the young like you come up after the crowd has cleared, & you say nothing happened here. This is the wisdom that you contain, a man incredulous because of temporal inexperience. There are so many Bible bashers on this site, or any holy book for that matter, it is juvenile for people whose knees have recently been healed over from being skinned in childhood to discount any relevance in or applicability in documentation that takes different states of mind to receive the message of, where you haven't even been initiated by life yet, loss of a great love, loss of a career, loss of your father or mother, or loss of the self from being mystified by the false simplistic projection of life.

It could be that America is only getting fatter because they cut gym classes down from 5 days a week to 2 days, like art classes. Or it could be that fat people are the only ones who are landing jobs, & with money comes homes & babies, fat babies.

Success is a dirty word in America. We vote in Presidents that are fools because, we can't have anyone we admire above us. Which is why Jesus was crucified & if he came back, he would only get crucified again. Bosses hate someone working under them who continually undermines them & can size up a situation quickly, as a leader would avert disasters for its clans in the old days, instantly.

If you have talent, you get fired. If you are a leader, run things from inside the short yellow bus. We don't need to be saved, stop saving people, you are making them all look bad, save yourself. There has got to be something wrong with you if you help other people. Get with the program, be selfish, punish good samaritans; make sure your own coffers are chock full. It is just shameful that the people that they vote into office to overcome their financial problems are people they are unthreatened by & who created these deficits to begin with. We can't have someone at the top that is capable; so don't wonder why all Americans except the 1% lost their life savings in one fell swoop.

We have successful families that have their adult children living in their basement. To have a true economic recovery we need to have some longevity with this success we are talking about. What ever happened to like father like son? The apple is falling real far from the tree. America is getting fat, not because we eat too much. It goes back to the reason why Jesus was crucified, humans do that to people they admired, we can't have people that shine around us, because life has to be enjoyed, if we don't enjoy life, then we will do everything in our power to rectify the situation & remove the person that interferes with our enjoyment of life. Got some fabulous worker at work who is going to get the promotion? make more money? get the girl? look better than you without really ever trying? & can throw a frisbee on the run at 20 miles an hour & hit you in the chest at the job picnic? Where do you end up? How does that make you feel? Either you or this Jesus character is going to be hearing the: "How does that make you feel?" at the shrinks office, it might as well be Jesus, let's give him the Messiah Complex.

It is not survival of the fittest, it is survival of the fattest. We can't have true leaders around to lead us, because as they walk on water for the miracle of the living breathing day, they splash water on others. Doesn't play nice with others, put him in a box & mail him to bum fuck Egypt. Fat people we can put up with, they'll keep their jobs, no one is jealous of the fat people, keep them around. Let them be successful, let them go forth, be merry, be fruitful & multiply. America will never come out of this death spiral, it is human nature that is preventing us. As it stands 40% of Americans are obese as it is. We just could never tolerate people we would rather be, we need happy workers to save the economy, fire talent & heart - see where that gets us...

I see thru God's eyes & God sees thru mines
the longer you go the more the path narrows
the hunger for gold in others hearts
has left me with... with but one wing
the pirouette did not corkscrew me into the ground
my sins gave me wings & the jete gave me a sense of flight
no bird ever shit on me, though they want to
you see I owned the world because of my mother beauty
but now the Master of Puppets (who says he doesn't exist)
has forsook this clown
shocked was I when I peered into the mirror
& saw a young man
I stood there in amazement for
about as long as it took to destroy that image
a moment of ecstasy, which tore from my shoulder
the blade, my wing.

There are rainbows on other planets
maybe a unicorn
but on this planet I am the horned
one eyed monster
but I don't feel bad
God understands the game which has made me who I am
so even if I am not right I am still righteous
for it all makes sense
I cannot fear the unknown
no one has ever come back from there
God's judgement will come
no doubt
mind swiped living on other planet
reincarnated to be reborn
it is as if we live life to make these mistakes again
for they make us men
without the cross I would not spare my life
to save a woman
I would not know how
without the wisdom of my folly
I am numb from numbers
and letters no longer arrive
fuck the matrix
here comes Saint Patrix.

They matricized to protect the women
but it was done by men
no woman can be a Messiah
for they call them Messenger
the bringer and bearer of bad news
you see us men we make a mess
the carrier wave of sound that
twists and contorts the very wind we breathe
like a bag of potato chips tells you to fuck off, already.

There is fascination in life
& beauty in strange things
a computer algorithm has taken over the air waves
as we dance alone
the DJ robot loses track of the tracks
as if it was somebody's favorite song
requested twice
these machines they become smarter than us
our blue faces, blurred vision
& internet addiction
I no longer care to satisfy a woman
because that takes effort
& I have run out of fingers to fully satisfy
do not kneel before me
because I want to plant a kiss
like the first flower I would bring you
to show you it was not love at first sight
but an overture, not an act
for in my delirium, this stupor
my masochistic pleasure center
no longer required any female words
to tickle the anvil, the cochlea, the stapes
to bang your drum & tickle hair in your ear
those tresses, the locks like hay of a cave girl
for another woman's voice still possessed my mind
I would not bring her flowers, cut, for they are dead
but for you I would get down on my knee and pluck
just one from the ground
when I saw the flower I did not know
it was meant for you
the Geese had rung in the Spring perennial

These poems are a nasty thing
I cannot show you this poem for I am gray
and my gaiety is false
I am twice your age exactly
I don't know what color your eyes are
but without looking
I am sure they are grey
I came to bitch and moan 'bout life
but since it is over
my fashion intervention is for me to shower
trim my 'stache 'cause something for you is swollen
put on a fine shirt that has grown rust & dust
silence is golden but my tongue is platinum
I bounce off brick face fanfare for you
so someone else can drag you away from here
maybe they too will wonder what panties you wear?
And instead out of all the bad intentions shouldered
a great weight has lessened for when I see you next
St Patricks Day I don't care if I live one day more
just to see you again.

These fears, these phobias, these sleepless nights
my mania, my mind running til' noon, all night
the delusions have led my to grandeur
there are so many people that want me around
but they can't say it
and no one will tell you they love you either
now I have to smoke to take me away from you
because good is a bad thing when there is too much good
and I am too good for this neighborhood
when people take compliments as insults
I grow weary of being misunderstood.

That flower this poem, my black heart
has turned your milk to black too
for the next messenger will be black
I would have loved to revolve just outside your womb
and drop off like a stork, a girl and a bag of potato chips
for you are all that
for more of you should be made
to rule the future world someday
I would die to bring you this child
but her babble would drive me insane
& either her eyes or mine eye
would be plucked like the wise man
when he knows it all - has to be blinded
so the others won't mind him being around
and the Prophet won't stray.
I will still see through my third eye
thru her eyes, like a child, again.
Washing away my sin
like a raindrop that was windshield wiped away.

Teachers get it from both sides, they get their hands tied from conservative administrators who snuff individual teaching methodology & then get stymied by students who don't want to learn. This new generation is addicted to distraction gadgets & the game is on all of us.

In the age of information there is a virtual impasse of dissemination of crucial information. Like light bulbs that are designed to stop working and every other appliance drop dead on end of warranty, humans too are to expire so they can't drain Social Security and weak pension funds. From Health plans that don't cover life saving measures or exploratory radiology, there is no ounce of prevention for a pound of cure anymore.

Once you have outlived your usefulness, and even your children want to be heirs, there are no golden years because we are kept in the dark by the system; and the complexities of the tangled web weaved by cross-disciplines. We know too much to ever wield this weapon of medicine, its integration and mastery is foiled by the limits of even the best of minds; the doctors. They don't give you the stitch in time to save nine, for they would rather drop a stitch to have you return one more time. And the doctors want to make it illegal to sue for malpractice.

I don't think it is conspiracy theory to say they want us dead to not collect our due for a life of yeoman work; the lawyers have assembled to bureaucratically red tape our minds with fine print we can't wrap our heads around. First it is what we pay for and don't get, and then it is the total and complete obfuscation of medical enlightenment; when in plain language & in a couple of minutes with wise words you can make the uneducated, geniuses.

The famous book by J.D. Salinger, "The Catcher in the Rye" was such a famous book that he wrote in secret after that, and barely ever published anything ever again. He died like Franz Kafka with orders for his manuscripts not to be published. In Kafka's case, he told his best friend to burn everything he wrote, but he published them instead. J.D. Salinger just died, and it was in his will that his writing was not to be published, but the estate decided to opt out on this clause and go to press with his works. You can expect more books from Salinger posthumously, as well as a feature film on the Catcher in the Rye, which J.D. also was against the production of.

Holden Caufield, the main character in the book, was a nice man. He wanted to go around and erase all the graffiti that said FUCK YOU on the walls; he also wanted to be the catcher in the rye. You see, as it was described in the book, there was a cliff, and people would fall off the cliff and land in this field of rye where Holden lay. I am not sure if it was just the force of life that propelled people off the cliff, or was it the fungus that grows on rye called Ergot, which is a hallucinogen, causing people to think they can fly? Rye is a grain that has long been cultivated since agriculture began in the Cradle of Civilization, like barley, wheat, they are all just but grasses, so by the time the Middle Ages rolled around people were quite aware of this Ergot fungus on the Rye, and would trip with it throughout time.

I think spirits only exist, not because they exist, but because people want them to. During bereavement, continuous thinking about the dead person brings the spirit back from somewhere. It is like just how it happened that the spirit world opened up for me. I had no desire to talk with spirits, but I had been separated from my soulmate, and as we were separated I thought of her, and she knew I would think of her as I always had, and so her curiosity opened a portal into my world in which she can spy on me, and I can feel her thoughts through the various mediums. Once that portal was opened by her, the spirit world came through too, because that portal is really the same channel. It never came from me. If you met Tamara, you would know, that it came from her, all this supernaturality. I was just young dumb and hung, and she always was other worldly. Her family was that way because her mother was sexually abused, and ended up having 13 different personalities. Bad things opens portals, and space gets folded, bringing separated people together.

I self medicate myself with the zyprexa, when I need sleep.

I have never hallucinated. I was however delusional, and my temper was short when they first put me on injections. I have this powerful voice and I would just lay it on transgressors righteously. So since then I have gotten over the delusions, not everything is about me, and I used to get angry, like there was a conspiracy when something would go wrong, but shit just happens, and you can't take it personal. The delusional bit leads to the outbursts, thinking it is about you, taking it personal and then reacting too harshly. So with those two under control I believe I am completely normal now. The friends of mine at the bar want to circulate a petition stating as much, and they remember when I was crazy, so they know I am doing better. I mean I am not saying that I am not mentally ill, everyone is, but I am not schitzophrenic. The first diagnosis was that I wasn't schitzo but they predicted I would be, but they didn't know in what form it would rear it's ugly head.

My mental illnesses are basically not believing in the system, getting a job ( and putting all my eggs into one basket ) why work when if I left home my dad's art collection could be burnt down? I don't have to work, but I just don't trust bosses. I was hurt very badly by a boss once and when I returned to teaching 2 years later with hope in my heart they played the same game on me. If life is a game then we all lose, especially if we lose the best teachers, the ones who care the most and have the efficacy to execute instruction in unforgettable meaningful ways.

I also don't believe in love. I don't think it was a coincidence that my girl was skittish, I think the fear of love is warranted. I can't take the emotional rollercoaster ride of love any more, it drove me crazy, with my stake in happiness buried in between her legs. So basically I don't believe in life, which is a mental illness, even though I keep it real and represent - puffing up other peoples' ideality. No one can make me believe in life, but I can make them believe which is why I am so loved. I guess I am just jaded, which happens to the best of us in time.

You seem to know what you need. Life does have its surprises though. If someone told me when I was a child I would retire at 27, go to a bar everyday and drink beer, with the nickname Coach, sit in the same stool, with a beer mug with my nickname on it, and a framed certificate of a Star they named after me right next to that stool, and do crosswords compulsively, have no children no girlfriend no job no car at age 44, I wouldn't have believed you.

Plans are nice. You could make plans and get anything you require. I gave up making plans though. I just live. I am thrilled with the life I led which is why I can recline. I have no sense of urgency, no ambition, no worries. If I outlive my father I stand to inherit an exorbitant amount of money. The fact that I don't live lavishly and am happy whilst I am poor are also other surprises.

Waking up at 2 in the afternoon, walking to get coffee and cigars as soon as I wake up, buying them at the same stores, the habitual existence I have rutted myself into, going to sleep at 5 in the morning. But then there are a lot of technological advances that came my way. If it wasn't for porn on the internet I probably would have a girlfriend. I dunno.

I stay within a 6 block radius, I am like a territorial stray cat. I might be everything I thought I would not be. I do play sports, but that is only when someone drags me out, I gave up trying to improve my body. The whole mental patient thing is surprising too, the supernatural element also is big. I was a nonbeliever, and I can take anyone with a video camera and make the whole world believe in the supernatural, I just don't feel the need to prove it, it is my secret, plus it would blow the world away. I would be killed as a warlock. But I am not a witch merely an observer.

I won 4 awards on Gonegothic. Biggest Spammer, most likely to kill a thread, best thread creator, and best poet. That should be at least 4 months of premium. I like putting roots down. By the way, when I write something good to you, I copy it and place it in my blog. I owe it all to you, because I don't really write anymore, but you bring it out of me, I just cannot ignore a wide eyed girl that demands edification. And you do need some. Even though I find your use of words charming and disarming, other people cannot get by improper word use and see the forest for its trees. Proper communication would lead to transmission of ideas. I soak in as much as I can, but I find I just get a feeling of what you are trying to say, instead of perspicacity.

I always had trouble unleashing the beast in me, being a gentleman, role model. The only time I would have sex is if it was purely a sexual relationship. Then there is no talk needed to get into bed. I don't understand that talk with a woman I respect, I can't just be an animal when love is present, love at that point is in the mind.

But I could have done it, it is just when the girlfriend wants distance then that shuts me off. Her body has to be a playground, and all bets are off if I am in some kind of psychological bondage. I just haven't found love that often, twice, when I was a child and then as an adult. She basically took my dick away from me. There was a time it was for her and I could have channeled it for her purposes, but she needed something more. So it ended up being platonic, but then she would after years of orbiting each other, she would want me to do her, but that part of me was long gone. Taking it slow can be a bad thing. Water has to be hot just ready to boil at all times. And then the older I got the kinkier I got which also works to distance the man from expressing his manhood. I would be ashamed for my desires, or needs. I say this, that I would basically need a dominatrix for a girlfriend, hopefully in the end we could share each other, because I found the more dominant a woman is the more submissive she can be, and just needs to be taken.

I write this in response to your statement that you feel Ace knows what you like and reads your needs. My mind drifted from my animal, they were conflicting. But it was circumstance, the rate of conquest of her was too slow, even when I knew we would always love each other, I still didn't feel safe with her sexually. The AIDS thing. She was not mine, for a brief moment she was mine, and we froze together in a room like mannequins unable to breech beyond our soulmate connection. A flash happened and the memory of the power of that moment carried us thru till this present day.

There was something about the strength of her soul power, and it filled me up to make me a better man, to make the devil curious of my minds eye, he jumped inside when she did, and then anyone could tag along for the ride, to see if I would think of her when and where again would I think of her, because it was such powerful and real love. First it was her that reached me when I was alone, and I could understand her when she was hundreds of miles away, her space and my space were folded together sharing a same dimension of thought attraction, like two storms racing towards each other. And once space was folded, the devil too and his minions, and even God followed me, sad I was alone. The miracle that we were bonded so well, and in contact when we were star crossed divided, and we became one, somehow, without ever even haven made love. A decade of drifting, and then as it seems every day, the world or something follows me, sad like a horse with a broken leg, these spirits provide for me miracles to entertain me, but she is gone, the mannequin connection, the fascination became old hat, and others make the miracles.

Is it you? No it is not Tamara, and a guessing game commences where I finally figure out what spirit is making the leaves rustle to the sound of dead love. It feels the whole world can read my mind, though this is not possible, the rain and every bit of nature is attuned to somehow communicating to me that life is beautiful and stay around for us, but I never am able to share this miracle meant for four eyes because I am alone in the togetherness, the union of my empty smoke filled heart in this supernal world.

My mother got an inheritance last year, and my step father paid off his mortgage with it, and bought a brand new car, so my mother couldn't give me the hundred dollars she normally gives me. So I got a sweater I didn't fit in, some bathing essentials, toiletries; my father probably will forget to give me some money too, and my Aunt will forget also. When you ask people if they want a sweater for Christmas and they say no, it is because they don't want to feel guilty for getting something and not have given you a farthing. So anyways, I went to buy sweaters at OLD NAVY because they were 15 dollars, and I had some extra money because all my bartenders didn't make me pay for a drink all week leading up to Christmas (and I drink everyday - because for ten years I couldn't drink haven been sick from hitting my taint and receiving a nerve problem) So when I got reborn and was no longer ill, I said to myself, I am going to make up for lost time and drink. Which leads me to the next present. A bartender of mine from Morocco, named Salma, she ordered something off the internet a long time ago for Christmas, and gave it to me on Friday night. It was a pint beer mug with my nickname etched on stainless steel COACH. The bar manager said it would be alright if I was the only customer to have his own glass, and all the bartenders think it is a great idea. I don't know where they are going to store the glass.

Anyways, so I went to OLD NAVY the day before XMAS, and with an hour before they closed I headed for the sweaters, and I saw this line for the cash registers that had no end, so I just turned around and walked out of the store, not getting the people I love sweaters. The sweaters I saw were cheap anyways. A total loss, but on the way home I got some Jamaican spiced rum for the night, and a cute bottle of Chablis for my mom who is Finnish and loves drinking.

I don't know about this Facebook thing, I told all my friends where I would be on Christmas Eve, and no one showed up, so I worked the bar and hit the jutebox, not sticking around for my buy back, since I had drunk the flask of rum before heading in there. I can talk to fish, and am very supernatural, so I pretty much sat by the fish tank and interpreted their fin action for words, in between conversations with people I knew who came into the local bar. I will go to the same bar tonight, and I am sure the night will be pretty much the same, except tonight I get to drink my beer instead of the rum. I couldn't drink beer because I was going to my mother's house for Christmas, and I would take a long car ride to get there and beer makes me have flatulence. And I am not one of those people who like to fart in front of people, so, the rums and cokes I had all night didn't let me go to sleep, and then my brother woke me up early to drive out on Long Island to my mother's, and so I figured if I rubbed one out I might be able to get to sleep, but it ended up being 9:30 AM when I finished my personal sex session and he woke me up at 11:00 AM. This is bad news.

You see when one gets reborn, they can have sex once a day and no more, and in between sexual sessions one needs six hours of sleep, otherwise you lose your hair. So I just tried to sleep when I got home from XMAS at my mother's and tried to get some sleep, but I couldn't and you need to get into REM sleep to rejuvenate the body, dreaming makes the body regenerate. So basically for Christmas I lose some hair, because definitely I am going to rub one out tonight. The reason is because after I hit my taint in '97 I couldn't have sex for 11 years, I did have it, but hitting the taint breaks the male member, and when you do use that body part when it is broken you have neurological trouble, like blindness and auto immune disorder. But I am a sexual person, so I kept doing the magick, and I thought I was going to die, so now I have sex whenever I want, sticking to the once a day rule, since I couldn't have sex for 11 years.

But I already said goodbye to my hair not to long ago, since it is good for the heart to have sex, and if you don't use it you lose it, and it is more important to have a strong heart beating in one's chest than having hair on one's crown of the head. Anyways, I figure once I lose my hair women might select me for union because, I was always the type of guy, who could walk into any bar and sweet talk some girl and score. But because I had that power no woman could trust me, and women want men who are faithful to them as much as men want the same thing from women. So, too bad my hair is gold, but it was a present I couldn't open, so once I am no longer beautiful then, I might find love. I think it was the Miller's tale in the Cantebury Tales by Chaucer that told of a man that found a witch, who told the Miller that, she could transform herself into a beautiful woman or one that would be true to him, and he chose the beautiful woman, and she wasn't true to him, so he wasn't happy. This is how it is my friend. Beautiful women have a power, and so do men, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. One must lose the power to glean from it.

That is enough for now, just to add, that if I do lose my hair and a woman chooses me to make a child I probably will make a girl baby, so tonight I say goodbye to sons. Goodnight.