Woke upthe next morning, and the sign on the bathroom mirror written in blood redlipstick said-“YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG”

So I know you hate it when I express any selfdoubt. I’m supposed to be the strong one, but I’m not Scott Summers! So muchhas happened in the last month, but I’m still just a little baby, I don’t knowif I am good enough. I think sometimes that if it were meant to be it wouldhave already happened, that if I was to become this great man that I would havealready become him. I compare myself to all of these famous no talent hack thatgot there before I did and I know when I do it I do a disservice to myself. I knowthat I simply don’t work hard enough, and you know it too. I could do more, butI don’t I choke like Lebron and I fail miserably it’s my Achilles heel. I amgiven opportunity after opportunity and I just squander it! What did I dotoday? Nothing! I watched bullshit online and ignored my destiny as I alwaysdo, I’m sorry I let you down, but it’s kinda what I do. I want to do more butsomething inside me holds me back. I just don’t know if I’m good enough, whenyou peel back the shell of bravado this is who I am a frail little man. That’swhy I identify with the Hulk so much. Inside he’s just meek little BruceBanner! I can’t help it, or I won’t in your eyes, I know, I know. I wrote a newstory today; it’s all about this guy who is a lot like me and what he becomesafter the Big One hits Cali. It’s an existential Mad Max. Not even sure whatmedium it’s set for; comics, movies, TV? Trying to piece that together, but Iguess I should finish it first. Listening to Thin Lizzy all day and drinkingthis cheap as balls rot gut whiskey isn’t helping. I’m on the verge of tearsand about to watch Chasing Amy which is probably a bad idea. I know its Fridaynight in L.A. I should be out meeting people and doing things, but I’mparalyzed by fear and incapable of being that guy right now. Besides only armaturescelebrate the weekend or Holidays, we true alkies stay crunk 24/7!

If you’d like to learn more about our LosAngeles Adventures please check out; Thee Monkee Armada Word, GoatFucker.com, and Thee Royal Armada Reader

I enter the revolving room, I repeat the number; NUMBER 5, NUMBER 5, NUMBER 5, NUMBER 5, NUMBER 5, NUMBER 5, NUMBER 5, NUMBER 5, NUMBER 5, NUMBER 5, NUMBER 5, NUMBER 5

My head opens, my eyes are closed. Time travel is difficult but not impossible. I hear the soft murmur of lost voices. Transition to the 4^th dimension is hardest. Dimension’s 5-7 are a breeze, I repeat the mantra. We are not alone, we are not we, we are us, there are infinite versions of you and I in this place that isn’t a place. There is only one real prison and that is time, but every prison can be broken out of. Every jail can be escaped from.

January 1943;

Moving in light, talking to myself about myself, crossroads, primer, bricks and mortar, it gets confusing, the smell of powder burnt in the temple at Kanchanaburi, the red painted faces of beautiful lady/boys. Some more smoke a whiff of the good stuff and I’m back in New York looking at a mirror the wrong way. Mountains of snow, youthful dreams, I end up in a sticky situation. Its morning in America, I wipe the sweat from my brow, repeat the number 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, scream my mother’s last name. Pranayama.

Like an out of work wrestler, I’m stuck in this business for life. I look at my weapon in my hand. I wear it well, as Rod Stewart would say. It doesn’t feel right though. I wish I would have ended up a desk jockey, living breathing, going home to my wife and kids, this is no life for anyone, but it is my life. I check the schedule again; my bus should be here soon. I watch the fat mothers struggle with their hyper active children. A drug addled teen thinks I’m a cop; he tries to distract himself at a video game machine. If he only knew the real cop was the guy he’s been chatting it up with on the entire first leg, trading stories about the time when they were soooooo fucked up! I take my hat off for a second. Wipe the greasy sweat from the white cloth that surrounds the rim. I think about how good I would be at writing Law and Order .

Thursday 1989

Foaming AT THE MOUTH I APPROACH THE TABLE, THE Dj smiles and nods, he gives me a thumb up and I fall to the floor. In my mind of course, in reality I keep dancing. I make out with 4 women that night. Drums still beat in my ear. Its dawn and a kid in a track suit twice his age drops a bag of pills in my hand. Gotta-make-that-money. A time-travelers work is never done. Tested and tested again I am numb, I am blind, smell, sound, touch, are my guides. I’m four years old again sitting at the kitchen table drawing pictures of monsters. I’m waiting on the meatballs. Then there’s booze in front of me. I don’t know what day it is or what time, and I don’t care. I reach for a hat on my head, but it isn’t there.

It’s Russia 2010 an empty country road sometime before dawn. A few simple young men are out in a stolen car having a little fun, with a girl far too young to be that drunk and a video camera. I stop them with a cheap Japanese sword I picked up in Tokyo 500 years ago. The Future is mutable; it changes on the head of a pin. The colors are vivid when you forge a new path, when you section off a piece of time and move inside of it you could end up in a million different worlds. Most people who live will never know what it’s like, it happens to everyone, but most don’t notice. Behind the curtain the truth of the universe is revealed I repeat the damn number.

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Happy 420 you Dirtbags! While  I am already quite high it's no more than my normal. Yesterday was an even more important day and I wrote this blog over on my Wordpress account so in case you missed it or don't even know I have a Wordpress account here it is!

Today is a very important day; One that should be marked on every calendar and recalled in songs from sea to shining sea. Today should be a celebration! And not because of some fictional Artificial Intelligence becoming self-aware in some fictional universe where robots wage war against humans. The war between robots and humans is real and has been happening since the dawn of the industrial age. On this day (April 19^th) 1943 Albert Hofmann, a chemist at the Sandoz (now Novartis) laboratories in Basel, Switzerland performed a self-experiment to determine the true effects of LSD, intentionally ingesting 0.25 milligrams (250 micrograms) of the substance. Less than an hour later, Hofmann experienced sudden and intense changes in perception. He asked his laboratory assistant to escort him home and, as use of motor vehicles was prohibited because of wartime restrictions, they had to make the journey on a bicycle. On the way, Hofmann’s struggled with feelings of anxiety, alternating in his beliefs that the next-door neighbor was a malevolent witch, that he was going insane, and that the LSD had poisoned him. When the doctor arrived at his home, however, he detected no physical abnormalities, save for a pair of incredibly dilated pupils. Hofmann was reassured, and soon his terror began to give way to a sense of good fortune and enjoyment, as he later wrote...

"... Little by little I could begin to enjoy the unprecedented colors and plays of shapes that persisted behind my closed eyes. Kaleidoscopic, fantastic images surged in on me, alternating, variegated, opening and then closing themselves in circles and spirals, exploding in colored fountains, rearranging and hybridizing themselves in constant flux ..."

The events of the first LSD trip, now known as “Bicycle Day”, proved to Hofmann that he had made a significant discovery. A psychoactive substance with extraordinary potency, capable of causing significant shifts of consciousness in incredibly low doses, Hofmann foresaw the drug as a powerful psychiatric tool; because of its intense and introspective nature, he couldn’t imagine anyone using it recreationally.

Cut to 20 years later you have the hippies and Timothy Leary and Ken Kesey, Secret Government experiments and Jimi Hendrix. Cut to 1995 when I took my first four doses and traveled back in time, and into the future, and spent a lifetime sitting in my friend’s car crying about my mother and my life and all the horrible things I saw. I fell in love with acid that night in North Carolina. It was the most refreshing and illuminating nervous breakdown I had ever had up until that point, I hadn’t really allowed myself to break down like that since my mother died two years before. I made a commitment to that drug then and there and it took until my fifth trip which came a few weeks later that I was able to take it without completely freaking out and ending up in tears. After my first good trip I researched the drug methodically learning everything I could about it. I took more samples and soon developed enough connections to start selling it. I did alright but it wasn’t about the money. I would leave a rave at 6 in the morning and invite 30 kids to breakfast on me there by nullifying a chunk of my profit often times placing me back at my initial investment.  Between 1995 and 2000 I would go in and out of the business each time I would sell just enough to afford my own habit which got pretty extreme by the end of the century. I would dose myself in the eye with pure liquid acid and then go work two separate jobs totaling 18 hours. I have always had slight insomnia, but during those years I rarely slept for days, keeping a constant circle of partiers around my apartment at all times. It was an intense bizarre ride that culminated in me doing a short stint in Federal prison for violating my probation. All of which were non drug related offenses. I never once was arrested or even under suspicion for the drugs that I trafficked.

I was lucky, but LSD is also super easy to conceal and move. I miss those days; I have spent the years since trying to remember them as best I can. I wish I hadn’t poured all that Tequila on top of it. People think that doing as much acid as I have done makes me as crazy and forgetful as I am, but I was born crazy and I’d remember more if it weren’t for the booze. What I do recall, and what I will never forget are the visions and inner discoveries I made roaming through downtown late at night with my group of friends and acquaintances tripping balls. The laughter and fun and tears, it was the adventures of a lifetime.  I’m far too old for all of that now, and besides I wouldn’t even know where to find the stuff. The wealth of it dried up at the end of the nineties when Janet Reno cracked her whip and shut down the biggest producers of the pure 1960s strands. All you have now is offshoots, bastardized versions of the gold that once was. In truth each batch since the first has been more and more watered down. It was discovered on accident, its properties hidden for five years until this very day which we hold high.

I could talk about how each trip made me feel, but it would just come off sounded like some New-Age Ligthworker Ascended Master spiel and that’s not me. I had some very profound experiences that are deeply personal and can’t really be translated into someone else’s world view. I do agree that all energy is one, energy. Mainly because of the first law of thermodynamics! I could talk about the things I've seen while hallucinating, like tiles on a floor forming the Mayan face of Death, or dragons made of smoke offering me their advice on love. Faces in the ceiling calling my name or simply watching the wood paneling melt in my apartment. But then it would just come off as crazy. I could wax poetic about my  times running naked into McDonald's, or a yard sale, or behind unsuspecting joggers, but then it would just sound like bragging. And For that I say thank you Dr. Hofmann!

I’m in one of those moods;

TORTURE TIME!

I’m gonna tie you over a sawhorse, strapping your wrist and ankles to the legs, then I’m going to open up your butthole with a speculum, get it as wide and gaped as I can then begin slowly inserting flesh eating eels. There will be blood

I’m going to numb you up with local anesthetics and operate

  on your brain. There will be blood

I’m gonna cut your eye lids off and strap you in front of a television. On the screen will be a VHS tape of me sticking it to your mom in the worse way. Tied up and gagged with several large dildos fighting for space inside her holes. There will be blood

I’m going to consume you bit by bit over a very long period of time; Starting with your toes. My medical training will keep you alive until you’re nothing but a gnawed-on torso with no hair or teeth, no ears to hear your own screams. There will be no blood.

ANON 6326.7

R U READING THIS? Are you a bot? One of the countless computer programs that click onto this blog, in hopes of leaving some nonsensical unfunny comments that trackback to another useless blog designed to steal people’s private information or merely hawk some unnecessary product? Are you even real, are you a man in bots clothing, did you discover this through STUMBLE!?! If so you are in for a treat I am feeling generous, for a limited time only I will accept all comments I will allow your Manichaean complex to flourish in the gardens of my nether regions I will grant access to the terror dome. But bear in mind you will before ever linked to madness a design flaw in the grand circuitry/// In excepting this invitation you’re being brought low and humbled at the head of the beast buried in sand///three times now we have entered the jungle///Four times now we have become corrupt and the divine elements that exist within the patronage of language has executed hell on earth/// BRITISH TEEN POP SENSATION DOVE RIGHT INTO THAT ONE FORGET THE PUNCTUATION THIS IS MADNESS THE ART HOUSE POET OF SHIT HOUSE POETS/// captain feels good to my dick ///channeling the green one that lives with the red one open your fifteenth eye you have eyes all around your head you know, three eyes are still so limiting///In a trance like state we placate the the sacred Voodoo Loa of insider trading, cigar smoking and the honkey-tonk hustlers/// beware the seventh step to righteousness  spells doom///What actual did get cut from the budget///Mihryazd the living spirit (rūhā hayyā) rescues the First Man from Darkness///The Light Lost///The president’s plan v/s the house’s///1561 Switzerland///Naturally Gifted Monsters in Shimmering Pools of Azure///Grace Jones is the template for current Pop Stars///Fax Resume 415-243-9539/// 11:15) 12:00///Nose Fetish in Diapers/// Neil Tyson and Reggie Watts tri-force [alt 255][alt-255][alt30][enter][alt 30][alt 255] [alt 30]/// Techno-punk-gangs from the future anything you want they can hack

KING GOD DOGZ

Cerberus, Blato, the God protects the King/// Sirius, Gramr, Gytrash, Yeth, Dip Black Shuck and Bo-guest///The problem with being a dedicated cougar hunter, is what happens when you get too old and in order to find a cougar she has to be 60 or 70 years old///There are a generation of Kids out there right now (probably in Jr. High) who’s mothers are all super-enviro-friendly. They will fuck this planet in ways no one has ever seen in their rebellion; the twilight of your life will be spent in much worse than a nuclear fallout/// ”You shouldn’t be here, your body won’t be able to handle re-entry” “What makes you think this is my body” ///POWER IS POWER///It’s better to be strangled by a necklace of Mexicans than no one at all///Riding on a Muni Train (the N to Judah) late one night when several men get on including a rather disgruntle homeless looking man. A battle erupts///Time has no meaning to me! Your silly little weapons are useless! I send you back to babysit yourself///Silly little Young Gods! I am an old God, older than the sun! You cannot capture me!///I’m back and I would like to thank you! I learned a new trick///A man who looks like he just came from an All-Night Drug Prowling Werewolves Reunion show!///An Irish Dwarf with a fat red nose, he looks like he would fit in perfectly as an extra in some Jr. High School fantasy novel, or in the crowd scenes of The Quite Man///Two women; one sounds Russian or Eastern European, the other has a vaguely Spanish accent. They’re discussing office politics, to busy chatting to notice anyone else is even around///A young Asian man, dressed like some 1950’s businessman in a suit that looks two sizes too big for him/// Cocoa Butter, Drano, Coffee, Whiskey, Limes, Waffles, Blue Cheese Dressing, Ketchup///Health is a gift from space-Worship the Worm///What is this town full of fucking ninjas?

False Revolution

Leader of a gang of roided-out lesbian monsters///Each and every hero must have a arch nemesis that defines who they are///Prometheus Down///The destruction of the Empire begins here///This is the day which down the void abysm///If the first time you have///SUPERCONTEXT MEMEPLEX///Cryptid-a creature or plant whose existence has been suggested but that is unrecognized by scientific

consensus///Anchimayen///Monsterbabyteeth///Y voy Con esa Cabrona!!///Hy Brasil///We’d come from California, I felt the blood between us churning thick as motor oil///Enter through the back 138 Rhode Island St.///Walk up Lincoln Blvd. to Montgomery St. make a left, go to Sheridan Ave., turn left on Infantry Terrace, cross to Golden Gate Club///Missing; Prince Emancipation Disc 2 (have 2,8,10)///Ice cold stare///In comic books villains are always trying to take over the world. In the real world they already have///Yet no one tried to stop///

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