what? who? zero equals infinity in this perfect world of dada. anybody else out here with us? spin. it's not about what one knows but about what one imagines. synergy through chaos in rapid order. what does one imagine? what is the message? who has the information? where is the common ground? what are the equal terms? who are we hiding from but ourselves? this is the connection. war? what war? who's fighting who? hello? look for us. we are here. we could be anyone anywhere anytime. does anyone know who we are? we knows who one is. we are watching and waiting.
    come out. come out. everyone is hiding. we know where they are hiding. safe. warm. comfortable. stagnant. we know who they are. we know they are out there. what is the message? what is the signal? what is the code? how do we get through to them? how do we get them to come out? do we want them to come out? breathe. join us in the garden. alive. to feel alive and living. radiate. existence. being. does anyone know who we are? how can anyone tell? speak to us. tell us something we haven't heard a thousand times before.
    ok. it's ok. hello? who's out here and who isn't? common. what do we have in common? is there anything besides all this noise we make about nothing? something besides the war? neptune. greetings earthlings. what is the connection? we see it, does anyone else? how is it identified? what is its name? define it and it's not there. open. to be open. hello? is anyone open out there? sending. receiving. we are them. come on. take the chance untaken. or else one stays. we are moving out among them. we are one of them. is anyone one of us? there is nothing to be afraid of. keep one's fear to oneself. ok? it's ok. we won't bite.
    so how is it done? how do we put it together? we have part of it. others have other parts of it. we have found our way to it. there is nothing to it. we find this hard to communicate this to anyone. thousands of years. and now here we are. ready. yet the others are afraid. afraid of us. afraid of each other. how is this fear broken before it breaks us? we are trying to overcome our fear of those afraid of us. but they have weapons ready. we are held prisoner as we hold them prisoner. check. now is the time to talk to us before we leave them behind to fight among themselves. we are living. we will survive through them and their self-destruction. dinosaurs.
    opening messages. opening to someone. to find someone. to find the connection between us through the walls that surround us in the silent spaces between the words. it comes and goes. we don't know all of it but we know some of it. what does anyone else know? what can anyone else tell us? what remains unseen? we know together which way to go. instinct. minds reaching and touching beyond the charts and graphs that monitor only our finite selves. we are more. they are more. can anyone follow this? hello? anybody home? dead air. static. we look for signs of life. there's so much more.
    counting. we are counting. countdown. hello? what is the message here? can anyone tell us? what does anyone pick up? is anyone out there - here? alive. mind. the crown of creation awakening to itself. opening our eyes. we are here now. this is it. we see everything. possibilities. we are inside looking out and outside looking in. come out. come in. we are here now. we see what's happening. does anyone else see what's happening too? tell us what one sees. speak it. we have helped them get this far. how much further does anyone else want to go? there's so much more to see. we've guided them to us. to this point. to this threshold. does anyone want to continue?
    no chain of command. we are one. we lead and follow. where does it go from here? there are those of us who just want to leave everyone else behind in the ruins of their destruction. we do not follow them. there are those of us who want to give them a world to continue living. does anyone want this? who do we ask? who speaks for anyone else? who does anyone trust with matters of life and death? existence. we have seen their ways. we have seen what they do to one another. how much longer? is this what anyone wants? who among them sees a different world? speak. we will give one what one asks before we leave.

    so what is it now as it becomes on and on through all of this? which is what? dada.
    he tried to see for himself. ha! through whose eyes are these and what is seen? a question unquestioned. mirror mirror. all the fragments of himself shattered on the floor. he tries to put it together into a whole. the contradiction of who he is to the others. what honesty is remotely approached? let that go. let them wonder. and wonder they will.
    comic.
    cosmic.
    to understand understanding. and what he understood seemed to be beyond understanding. outside.
    and it would be so much easier he knew if he just accepted to fact that he is nuts. but something inside him refused to accept that as an explanation. but that was perhaps nothing more than the insanity itself speaking to him. his insanity self-preserving itself.
    this explanation worked for others. they could declare him mad and then walk away. easy. but whatever it was or wasn't stayed with him. it didn't walk away. it remained his constant companion. without it he would have nothing.
    and there was the possibility that the insanity was himself and that the person everyone would accept as sane was in fact the one insane. how about that, dear doctor?
    this is the point where the laughter breaks open inside his head. something has to give and laughter seems to be the least destructive to himself and the others though it has as its source as his screaming anger. he could understand the delightful pleasure some have attained by putting the two together and gone out on hilarious killing sprees. gunfire in the fun house. yikes!
    he understood this very well. how others did not was what he did not understand. but it could be that they have not come to this point of distraction from the everyday. they just had their untroubled simple lives and minds. how did they escape this fate? are they not human? is he not human? which was which here? back to that question. back to the beginning.
    perhaps what was for the best was that he stay apart from them and them from him. there is no resolution here. oh well. they all agreed on that. he had to agree with them. he was comfortable with it. here. there. wherever. speaking with imaginary extraterrestrial whoevers. real or not. real people made him nervous. they were too real. no imagination. no room to move. closed in with them triggered his fight or flight.

    4/6
    jesus in bed sheets. undone savior. the video tape rolls. and this is the only proof they need. bring him down. no sacrifice made. we're safe now.
    but now who protects us from ourselves? our dark ugly monsters we have fashioned inside ourselves from our human identity. we want them gone but who is willing to go in there and chase them out? and chase them out to where? out here? oh no. not that. someplace else.
    so they chased them all into his head and then chased him out of their lives.
    he is the dark ugly monster.
    and he has survived this. this is all part of his world he was born into.
    they want him out and he has gone out. out of his mind. out of their mind.

    waiting for instructions. the house is out of order which would be ok but there's those who are demanding that something be done about it. who? what? whose house is this? whose instructions do we follow?
    the command. those who take this on. good luck.

    and he smoked another cigarette. he looked out the window as someone talked to him saying, and there's a whole structured order to space and time. all space and time. this world space and time and other world space and time. and to these gods in this other world our world is inviting because it's material and physical. that's the trade off. one who is immortal is also immaterial and non-physical. as for us we are material and physical but not immortal. this is the order of space and time. but we can exchange places. the gods can enter into the material and physical world through humans. the humans can enter into immortality through the gods.
    and then this someone left. he sat quiet again. perhaps this someone was never there to begin with. just imagination from the other world.
    he tried to remember. but he did not always trust his memory.
    and he was to watch and wait.
    rebellion was everywhere - in both and all worlds.
    now we wait with him. we are companion to him. we watch and wait as well.
    their world. people. all the senses. material and physical. we are in wonder.
    but this is not all of it. there is more. we watch and wait for a reason. instructions. a warning. to observe and take note of these times. for the record.
    and we feel with him. not of one world or any of the others. not quite here nor there. between.
    and some of us wander these lands to explore and gather. we and him watch and wait for them. news.
    and we feel with him in other ways. to not belong with the others. for we are outcast too.
    we left to be with him. that is our job - our mission sort of. to enable him this refuge from all those who wanted him for their own ends. and we try to give him comfort here but we are limited in being able to do so.
    he does not believe in us. he does not really trust us but he has no other option that he has been able to come up with otherwise except to be insane.
    he carries the scars of many wounds he received getting himself here. we can see them upon him. wounds of lifetimes.
    part of him hates us for bringing him here with us. for all he had to leave behind and lost. and perhaps we were wrong. maybe we should have left him alone. let him forget us. but we could not. then what of us without him? in our world we are considered to be insane as well.
    so we try to amuse him as best we can. we tell him stories about mysterious and wonderful things.

    clown. a clown. keep any emotion out of this. it's all a drug. the clear mind. free reason that finds its way from one to the other. a clown. happy or sad. a clown.
    it comes back. for another's amusement.
    to be confused with love. love?
    something to write songs about.
    to be cynical with love.

    a kiss away.
    he blames us for the pain he feels. perhaps he is right. we have called him away from everything else he had known. he did choose to follow but we were the ones who made him aware of the choice. circumstance. but he did choose this. how much did he really want everything else he had known? still he blames us.
    but he laughs. we laugh with him.
    but something inside him has died. something human. he does not talk about it. he tells us that we wouldn't understand. perhaps not. there is  a lot we don't know about him. there is a lot he doesn't know about us. we are more human than he might imagine. we told him how boring it was with us. that is why we pop into this world now and then. sort of like going to the movies.
    and he lights another cigarette.
    as he continues writing and making this all up as he goes along. as he looks out the window without looking at or for anything. watching and waiting. as it comes and goes. as he sees no part in any of it for himself - whatever that may or may not be. a observer. outpost in a strange land.
    anyway. it's nothing. just space and time thing. whatever it needs to be. all of whatever.
    deformity double plus.
    he knows nothing. we defend him from the others who would destroy him for who and what he is. we were the ones sent to perform this task. it's not as easy as it might seem. the others want him out. and don't come back. some of the others. not all.
    and he was outcast. exiled. he had done this to himself. he understood the reason - their reasons.
    he couldn't live with them anymore. he thought they were all stupid and cruel. and they are. we cannot deny that. but that is how it is. we are trying to fix it. then he can return.

    and the committee. he hated the committee as they hated him. those who argue among themselves about this and that and the other thing. he was gone from them and their combined idiotness. he had better things to do - like sit around and do nothing.
    and the war they waged on and on.
    and he had to disguise himself here. he had to remain quiet. in the heart of it. in the center of babylon. in the belly of the beast.
    and he saw it all.
    oh well.
    to remain silent.
    it makes him cry to see it. it makes him laugh to see it. all while it comes and goes. all while it is always something else than what one would might expect.
    to remain silent.
    not that there was any way to speak of it - or write about it. the words do not go that way. they just record the facts. there are no facts about anything he sees. no facts about anything he understands. it's all his imagination. whatever. whatnot.
    like wind blowing through one's hair.
    or something like that.
    everybody saying, what the fuck you talking about?
    look at how happy we are.
    he looked at how happy they were and he cried.
    they had nothing. yes, they could keep themselves alive day to day. some of them had done far better than that. but he didn't see any of them expressing any sort of happiness. not except for some sensational thrills they goggled themselves with.
    they're all lost to themselves.
    the frustration of seeing a world no one else saw. x-ray mind.
    at least they had others who saw the world they saw along with them. people in agreement. or they seemed to agree. they hung out together as if they were. groups. groups opposed to other groups.
    he wasn't in any group. it was just him. though he did get along with some others individually they didn't constitute a group.
    a hat.
    nevermind a hat. wear it or not. it's just a hat.
    remember it and forget it.

    war poem.
    war poem.
    let them sing the song of their war poem. let us hear them sing. let us hear them shout all their words of the war poem. let them deafen us with their thunderous cacophony about this and that and the other thing all at once and shouting each other down with their war poem.
    we delight in this. we came here to destroy their world and were surprised to find that they were doing it already for us. we can sit back and watch and wait. have another cigarette. relax. it's all being taken care of. and we laugh our fool heads off.
    and there's something about spaceships.

    communicate. communication. babble. break down the communication. drive them mad. sit back and watch them destroy themselves. it works every time.
    piece of cake.
    a bit like a dream.
    all a dream. no more or less than a dream. as it comes and goes.
    down by the river. all matters resolved. he stared into it. the clouds around his head. he dreamed these things. and all these hats he wears as he is passing the time imagining what it might be like to be someone else. or to be no one. he imagines being no one. he dreams being no one.
    he is no one.
    and this he doesn't mind much at all. he knows what it is. his existence apart from this world of identity and occupation. he was without identity and occupation.
    just like being at the movies. a trick done with mirrors. presto!
    just a dumb fuck like everyone else. sort of.
    appearances.
    oh.

    thinking ahead. another time. here he is now. he's got everything he wants and needs. zero it down. come back. here it is. how close to it do we want to get? divided. in a moment. he is this. he is that. he is the other thing. layers.
    spoon.
    romance.
    drama.
    action.
    suspense.
    he thought of this as he watched and waited. scenarios. he made it all up.
    kill.
    destroy.
    annihilate.

    5/15
    play it again.
    soul.
    now and again.
    he watches and waits.
    he lights another cigarette.
    a war game is being played.
    poets. pen in hands.
    no.
    not.
    nothing.
    words.
    a blast of light. a hurricane crash. instant. then it's over. it's been over for a long time he now remembers. he had forgotten. he has to wake up. he's been wrong so many times. someone has always been around to remind him of that.
    miracle.
    but enough remains that might seem possible. he never knows. this thread that he follows. gathering. as the war goes on. crash. bang.
    he sorts through the wreckage. nothing much useful to anyone but himself and his designs. he finds moments. time past. no more than that. reminders of what he has gained as much as what he has lost. he feels one with the other. a dance slowly moving through him.
    but not that. not now. this is not what any of it is. what is it? duty. is it duty only now that holds him here? duty to what? he has lost all other sense of it than that. some forgotten post. watch and wait.

    acid grimy dawn.
    morning.
    shivering.
    coffee.
    ink on fingers.
    cigarette.
    news on the radio.
    hello.
    nothing.
    looking for something that's not there. point of view. sanity. stories. old wounds. cash.
    he thought about everything he could think of. it wasn't much.

    he was lost in this world of people going nowhere but keeping themselves going fast enough that they didn't notice.
    but that wasn't it.
    and maybe this other time he laughed to himself about something he couldn't possibly explain.
    it does not begin here.
    it does not end here.
    it continues for some reason or another. perhaps for no reason.
    and something to continue. all these people trying to continue.
    divided. divided continuance. divided sense of continuance. what begins here? what ends here? what do we need to continue? what do we want to continue?
    to stop continuing.
    rings around his head. it amused him. he just wanted to continue to feel alive though sometimes feeling alive caused him pain. that was part of it. part of feeling alive.
    and he sees his image shattered in shards of broken mirrors. was it too late?
    on the current list of crimes. all the changes against him. he was innocent once. no more. now there's blood on his hands. blood on everything he touches. and not his blood this time. tick-tock.
    the blood of christ.
    ha! what a joke.
    a joke?

    and maybe something real and maybe not. what to do when it all collapses. when it all falls out from under them and on top of them. and maybe they'll get away with it. maybe they'll survive. we've been here before. we've made our connections. when it's everyone for themselves.
    the vanishing point. tune into it. that's our connection. that's where and when we are. the mind shift/ship.
    when we go, we go.
    the machine.
    how does anyone tell who we are? we can be anyone. a series of threads in the genetic matrix. we can pop up anytime. in some more than others. but anyone anywhere anytime. maybe one of us is someone one knows. maybe not. just a stranger on the street. but we know who we are. we can recognize ourselves everywhere. but we are very good at disguising and hiding. we are chameleons. we mimic behavior that we need to get to where we want to go. one would be surprised at where we have turned up. or maybe not. and we can let one in or let one out as the case need be. key positions. strategic. logistical. dada.
    give us the word.
    oh, that word we long to hear.
    and all such like that.
    one should know this. one should have this figured out by now.
    it's a game we play. we make it up as we go along. hints and clues. we define it for ourselves.
    poopie tootie toot toot.

    and we find ourselves behind enemy lines. we discover ourselves living in an armed camp. everyone around us on edge and trigger happy. one wrong move in the wrong direction. one wrong word.
    we've been here before. we've been here all along. we know what it's all about.
    and sometimes the way out is in.
    and sometimes the way in is out.
    we find it anywhere anytime we can with anyone we can.
    look through it. don't let them make one afraid. don't let them make one angry. don't let them make one hate. that's their world not ours. let them have it. burn themselves up with their unending greed. we are the phoenix. we rise from the ashes of their self-created hell they try to impose on us.
    and it hard to get out of that. it's a tough climb out of that pit. and they grab one back down. misery loves company. they hate us because we're different in some way they do not understand. there is something about us that sets us apart from them. but we are always part of them - or rather they are part of us. we are them. they are us. yet they divide themselves apart from us. they cast one out and we take one in. trust one's wild heart. it beats time with ours. stop. look. listen. if one opens oneself to it one can tell who we are and who we are not. one can see through the lies they told one about us. one can tell who is who and what is what. and we tell one things that one already knows. otherwise one is lost to us.
    but take a good long hard look about who's telling one what about us. check them out. are they who they claim to be? who are they? what are they hiding?
    they can make things work. they're functional and organized. but why? toward what purpose? toward what end? look at what they produce. look at what they have given us. how much of it is worth anything? how much of it is from the spoils of war they have kept fighting for thousands of years? how much longer does this go on? they promise us many things but they'll never deliver. they cannot deliver. they feed on us. they must always keep us down.
    and the war goes on all over the world. nations against nations. nations against themselves. people against people. people against themselves. people divided and conquered. people led on by their desires and chased by their fears. people controlled by their anger and hatred. people doomed in a world of hell.
    we rise above and away. we climb out of it. we don't look back. we step aside. we find our way out anyway we can. and there are many ways out of it. exit. follow the exits. keep going. one will be frustrated by wrong turns and dead ends. one will have people who scorn one and call one names. some of these may be one's best friends and one's own family. it's hard then. it hurts. it's difficult to turn away from them and leave them behind. one tries to tell them. one tries to get them to understand. but they do not. their hearts have been hardened and their minds sealed. keep going. where one is trying to get to is real. it is here and now. we cannot prove it. one can only prove for oneself.
    and the way one goes one goes alone. but the path that is narrow and winding and at times almost non-existent is one well traveled. follow the signs. one will see which way others have gone before one. hints and clues.
    and we'll help one where and when we can. but we're in the same position here in this world - their world. we're all prisoners together. it's not anything we can tell anyone. this is not an argument to be argued. one either understands or one does not. if one doesn't then that is how it is. no more and no less. one goes one's own way and we'll go ours. we ask for nothing more.
    we see where they are at now. the bright lights and freeways wide and smoothly paved. we see the world they've settled for letting themselves be convinced that that is all they can get. if they work hard and do what they are told and follow the rules and the orders and the instructions they'll get more. and some do. most don't. and for those who do, what do they get more of? just more of the same. and then they die.
    we see them. we see them every day. we see the glazed lost look in their eyes. the hurried anxious way they walk and talk. they're spooked by their own shadow - this thing of darkness they feel that follows them and will swallow them up if they stop.
    they've pushed past us. they go and go and go. treadmill that powers the machine they serve. the machine that feeds on each and every one of us we all serve knowingly or not.
    nevermind.

    the common ground. clocks stopped. near it. away from it. space. time. here and now.
    does anyone know where the common ground is? does anyone know how to get there? where and when we meet on equal terms no matter who's who and what's what. or who pretends they're who and/or what. no more competition. no more war. they can have that if they want it bad enough they're willing to die for it. they can have it all.
    we move on. we have moved on. past that. beyond that. other than that. we are refugees from a world torn apart. we are outcast orphan children of all ages. we have moved on and found our place. we have found our common ground. here and now. we skipped out through the cracks following broken light through shadows of darkness. in and out of our minds. rearranged. transformed by journeys we have taken to get back here now. our home world hidden in secret places from those who would destroy it if they found it. they would destroy us if they found us. if they knew who we are.
    they cannot find us. we are always where and when they are not looking. we stand in their shadow and they cannot see us because they will not look into their shadow because they are afraid. as big as they are, their shadow is bigger.
    that is where we find our way out - through our own shadows. gone from them and taking it all with us and leaving them with nothing but the shadows that will eat them alive.
    our laughter rings with celebration at the scam we pulled off pulling the rug from under their feet. pirates. that's who we are. we've boarded this world and we're taking it for all it is worth. and no one even knows we're here. not even a clue. nothing unusual here. they think they know who we are. we let them think they know who we are. disguise.
    we're a alien genetic space virus from hellplanet 9 and we got through all their detection systems because they haven't the slightest idea of what to look for that makes us different from them.
    it was so easy. too easy.

    5/18
    hello? connect. what? in one and out the other.
    and he's home. he comes back home. he sits in a chair. coffee. cigarette. songs on the radio about nothing at all. downtime. cat. a black cat.
    he wondered about whatever part of anything he was a part of. he tried to make it up but that was all he was doing was making it up. and here he was left with it. and he wondered whatever part of anything anyone else was a part of. making it up all along. what was there exactly to be a part of? part of something that is part of something else. always something else. never quite what it is. the mystery of it goes on.
    he connects to it. he's left with it. he sits here and writes without knowing nothing much about whatever it might be. he makes stories about it without much else to do. he sometimes feels he understands. sometimes he looks around and it's all confusion. he steps back and lets it go right on by. people look at him and he looks right back at them. he doesn't know what makes sense to them in all of this. he tries to follow their logic into it and loses it as it seems even they cannot explain. they're just driven on by something that seems to them to be something they don't even have to think about. just move into it. he always stops. stops to think. he thinks about it. why this and why not that? he checks it out. by and by.
     and as it continues. as it continues around him and him in it. nothing comes too close. he doesn't get too close. he's learned the danger in that. just step back from it and watch it go by and by.
    watching and waiting for someone who understands it as he does. he does understand it. he always understood it. he just never understood that he understood it. he let others convince him that he didn't understand it.
    he understood why people did the things they did. he understood the logistics of it. what he didn't understand was why they wanted to do the things they did. he saw that they lived such miserable pathetic lives driven by emotions of desire and fear that they could never hope to control but that instead controlled them. all their actions ultimately led to pain yet they still continued with them varying them from time to time but basically repeating the same routine over and over. the theme of good versus evil that they did not see could never be resolved.
    and he laughs now thinking that he does the very same thing.
    and they valued this. they would not give it up even to save their lives. this was their lives. they could imagine nothing different. this was what he could not understand. he had tried to. he tried to see as important what they saw and felt were important. it made him crazy. it made him confused. it caused him pain. to be human and do human things. what were these creatures around him? how did they keep themselves going without anything inside themselves to hold onto? none of them could be trusted or counted on. no more than he could be. he knew this now. but they hold that image before themselves. one cannot survive if one shows weakness. it's all image. it does not matter if that image represents them or not as long as others believe in it. once that image is broken the others will go for one's throat. once one shows them that one is not who they thought one was. the main thing is that they hate to be shown that they are wrong about anything even if by doing so it will improve their situation. oh well, he was the same. yet he thought about it. perhaps too much.
    he was a fool. an idiot fool. and so he sat it out and watched and waited. he let people around him think what they wanted and say what they wanted and do what they wanted. he didn't care. they were nothing to him and he was nothing to them. the only thing that got to him was their pain. their pain that he could do nothing about. they seemed to thrive on it somehow. he didn't understand. he could only think to avoid them as much as possible while remaining among them to observe them and their behavior to try to find this key to it that he did not have. how did they not feel the pain that he felt coming from them? how did they turn themselves off from it? yet he saw it in their faces and heard it in their voices and he remembered what it felt like to be doing similar things to what they are doing. the momentary hope chased after to have it shatter and evaporate and be left again in the pain of it.
    he would never return to that. he would never again believe in the reality of this world around him. he did not touch it and it did not touch him. he occupied the same space it did but he kept himself shifted sideways to it away from it. he breathed it in and breathed it out. he ate it and digested it and shit the rest. he took from it what he needed to maintain himself. this body. this vehicle of the soul. and he kept himself a fraction apart ready to leave at a moment's notice. gone. whenever it got to him. when it tested him and his tolerance. when it wanted him to feel what he did not want to feel ever again. he was not strong enough for that. he kept up a steady jamming signal to filter it out. all in the mind. if it doesn't happen in the mind then it doesn't happen. why look for it anywhere else?
    and here and now he watched and waited for those who understood it the way he did. he knew who to look for now. he could see it in their eyes because it was like looking into his own. a familiar face either smiling or frowning. he knew who to look for and so far he saw no one. not this one. not that one. no one. no one who had gone as far into it as he had and found their way where and when he sat in the garden under a tree. he saw them all sidetracked and waylaid by this or that or the other thing. and whatever and whatnot.
    he watched and he waited. it was too good to be true so he made it all up to keep himself from going mad. and that was it. that was what he understood. to become the god who wishes to destroy one by making one mad.
 
    something. it starts with something - someone. a story. he writes a story about himself. how does he start it? he did he start it? how will he start it?
    they and him. living in two different worlds. they live in a world that is in control. rationalogically based. not can exist without a reason for it existing that can be explained in clear articulate language. it cannot exist for its own sake of existing.
     when he enters their world he feels despair and hopelessness. he feels ugly and he sees only ugly things around him - ugly people. he sees no beauty in their world. when in their world he feels the need to compete with everyone else or be lost forever.
    he doesn't understand them. why do they settle for this? he would hope that they see more than that. don't they?
    there is more than that. yet it cannot be explained so they stay away from it.
    nevermind.
    nevermind that.

    and what is called down. and what is given and taken. and what flies above. and what is needed. and what is wanted.
    words written for no one to read. he doesn't understand them himself. how can he give them to another?
    no explanation is needed here. there is nothing to explain. he writes for no one but himself.
 
    hey! downtime. uptime. zeroing in and out of whatever and whatnot. as it comes and goes. and all dada.
    about it. about all of it. about none of it. what is it about? too much. too little. the ongoing effect. effect without cause. without a reason. without purpose or destination. just effect. to be seen and not seen. to be or not to be.
    the effect of existence. to narrow it down. to find where and when it is. and if it ain't here now then where and when is it? where and when do we look for it to be?
    and nevermind.
    ain't nobody here to convince of nothing but himself. trying to convince himself of what is fleeting in his mind. he watches it and waits for it to come to him. to settle on him. to speak to him maybe only as himself speaking to himself. no one else here now in this space/time thing he exists in.
    there is nothing here. there is nothing happening. or is there? what happens now? does he know?
    he tells himself he doesn't. he tells himself he has no idea. he has ideas. he has ideas about it and what it may be. he has no way of knowing which if any of these ideas are right or wrong. how would he know? how does he judge? he tells himself he cannot though he does. he constantly judges. and he constantly questions those judgments. his judgments. or are they his judgments? how does he tell? where do they come from? who's judging what here?
    all territory that has been explored before. he talks with those with various theories they've heard or read about. he's heard or read about some himself. he gets rather confused by it. so many contradictions.  and that would be ok if it was only that. he can live with contradictions. but the others fight each other over about them. and he saw those who took advantage over others and those who suffered and those who caused suffering to themselves and others knowingly and unknowingly.
    and he turned away from that. he saw his own part in it. what a mess. and so he left it. he tried to leave it. he was still a part of it so long as he remained here. and he does remain here. why? what does he want? he watches and waits. what does he watch for? what does he wait for?
    a cup of coffee.
    another cigarette.
    a hit or two a day to keep the doctors away. the head doctors. the doctors in his head and everyone's head with all their supposed knowledge that gives them the right to judge right and wrong. yeah? them and what army?
    not his army. his army is scattered and hidden and won't do shit anyone tells them to do just because they have a piece of funny paper in their hands. and words. funny paper with words on them. words of judgment. judgment of words.
    take a hike.
    get lost.
    tweedle dee and tweedle dum. up their yin yang and out again. into the soil. into the earth. moist warm embrace. dismantling all judgments.
    he is here now. he is watching and waiting as he has watched and waited before. as he will continue to watch and wait. he comes back again and again. into it and out of it. this world cannot get rid of him so easily as it thinks it can. to just sit here and watch and wait.
    how strange it must seem to be. to be here. to have this be who one is. off to the side. to always be watching and waiting.
    he wonders about that. he has his doubts. his doubts hold him here.
    watching and waiting for something he no longer doubts. but that frightens him. to be so sure one is not wrong. he has seen others who believe that about themselves. they frighten him.
    he didn't want to be wrong. no one like to be the fool. but that wasn't the only reason. he didn't want to inflict his wrongness on others. without thinking. without doubt.
    so he kept to his doubt. his doubt protected him. his doubt was his faith. if that makes sense. if that had made sense. if that will ever make sense.
    it more or less makes sense to him. he goes with it anyway. because he knows what he could do if he convinced himself he wasn't wrong. that power of having no more doubt. he sees how easy it could be. he sees others around him he could convince he was right and how to eliminate those he couldn't.
    easy as one - two - three...
    do it.

    he held himself in check with doubt as he watched and waited.
    because he found where it was at all moments of his being. who he was aside from who he was defined as being by the others. always the others fucking everything up for him and everyone else including themselves. as he was judged whether that judgment was right or wrong. ding dong. he could not explain it - even to himself.
    they saw him as different than themselves. and he was. but no more or less than they were different from each other. and they saw him the same as they were. and he was this too. just the same as they were to one another.
    and he couldn't figure this out no matter how hard he tried. he wanted to be different but not if it meant he wasn't the same and he wanted to be the same but not if it meant he wasn't different.
    somewhere in-between. he was too different for those who were the same and too much the same for those who were different.
    they judged. he knew they judged because he was the same as they were and they were the same as him and he judged. to speak their language was to judge with every word spoken.
 
    drop it. drop out. drop them out. they are in the way. they're excess baggage we don't need to drag us down. we are gearing up and headed for warp drive thing.
    zap!
    nobody knows where or when.
    back to here and now.
    back to it.
    elsewhere.
    elsewhen.
    doors open and close in the blink of an eye. it comes and goes.
    and to continue.
    forget this dead end world. one can stay behind if one wants to and keep trying to fight it out or whatever and whatnot.
    if that's one's part then that is one's part. good luck.
    but that's not for us. that's not our part. our part is to survive and be alive.
    and we survive with whatever we can survive with just like everybody else and the only thing we got still that seems like it will get us through is our minds and imagination and whatever we can get outta that. a hat. out of something like that. we don't know. we cannot explain.
    a gathering. a gathering of us together where and when it happens. not anyplace or anytime. one cannot see us unless one knows where and when to look. everywhere and nowhere.

    he forgot. he forgot everything about himself until someone else came along to remind him. they told him who he was. they judged and defined him. otherwise he did not exist for them.
    and he seemed to have no choice. he wasn't strong enough to resist their power to judge and define who and what he was. they were the masters of reality. they had told him so. they would come to him and take what they wanted out of all the possibilities of who and what he was.
    but he did have a choice. he could tell them who and what he was. he didn't. he left that up to them.
    if they wanted someone who loved them he'd give them that. if they wanted someone to hate them he'd give them that. he was flexible. he didn't care who or what they wanted as long as they didn't blame him for it if it turned out not to be who and what they wanted or if they pushed the wrong buttons in making their selection or if they didn't know what to do with who and what they wanted.
    whatever and whatnot. it got way to complicated.
    forget it.
    nevermind.
    he slips away into nevermind watching and waiting.
    the steady hum of his mind open and receiving information as much as he can through the nevermind.
    download. mix it up. put this with that and see what one's got.
    upload. pen in hand scribbling across page after page in an endless stream of notebooks. brainwave lingo dada. whatever and whatnot.
    look out. here it comes. the moment we've all been waiting for. now.
 
    swelling.
    it comes back down to the same. what of it? what is that? what is the same between us? where and when does it begin? self. self-generated. into it. in one's own head. find where and when it is in one's own head first. look for it there before one looks for it anywhere else.
    to begin. to begin something - anything. to gather together what one has. whatever and whatnot. the revolution begins in the home. the revolution begins in the heart. home is where the heart is. to find where one's heart is and to begin. the revolution begins and ends with oneself. evolution of revolution. turn it around and around through all the worry and sorrow and the fear and the anger and the hatred until one finds the joy. the joy that remains through the other states of emotion and stands up to whatever is set against it.
    if one hasn't found that then we don't need one to be a part of our revolution. go home and stay home until one has found it. go to one's room and close the door and don't come out until one has found it.
    we don't want one's worry or sorrow or fear or anger or hatred. we got enough of that business of our own. we don't need any more. don't bring that into our house. keep it to oneself. one has to figure out what to do with it on one's own. we figured out what to do with ours.
    we turned it all into joy. and not just some slap on have a nice day plastic smile joy that others have found to try to cover over the turmoil inside them. forget that. our joy does not cover up that turmoil but comes from that turmoil inside us. it denies none of it but justifies all of it. our joy doesn't come to us despite of all the rest but because of all the rest.
    and he stops and turns on a dime and falls flat on his face. bees buzzing around inside his head. it must be the future. could it be? has he found his way to the future?
    he lays down in his room. rest. he head aches driven by all he's fed it with following the dormouse's advice. so long ago. somewhere. sometime. to have struggled through all that for so long. he sacrificed nearly everything to get back home.
    and he knew what it was and what it wasn't. he knew what was real and what he imagined - sometimes. he followed that thin line thread to get himself here. to return. to begin. to end. when it was right. when he had done what he could to make it right.
    later he got up. hungry. there was no food.
    cafe - another night here. the smell and taste of caffeine. blood fix. steady wired nerves.
    and sometime before this. and something after this. watching and waiting. what was it? now and then. how long exactly had he been here. forgetting. he had forgotten.
    born into this. eyes opened. or closed. he couldn't tell. he saw the same thing either way. dancing in his head. alive and living. something.
    as something is occurring as it is. is this the future? is this france? is this a movie?
    hello?
    what?
    the seriousness of it all amuses him. he is alone from everyone. none of them can touch him. he can touch none of them. feedback. shock jolt. it all goes out. power down. too much. too close.
    another way to us through him to him through us. exit. enter.
    another space/time sequence of locations and events off to the side of real space/time sequence - or the rationalogical space/time sequence. in out around through the vanishing point. to begin without beginning. to end without ending.
    and to continue.
    as such it happens or not. to each it does or doesn't. no one can speak for another. for him it does. for another - maybe yes, maybe no. if not then this is probably all so much gibberish. no big deal. love it or leave it.
    and he is not alone. he is one of many. many of us and many of them. both being the same as there is nothing that divides us. not really. just the artificial divisions they invent. he writes this down for us as others have done over space and time. he listens. there are few who listen to us. we have arranged things so that's pretty much all he has to do. he wants to do more and he tries but he is not much good at doing anything else. it's hard to keep him settled down. it's hard to keep him open and focused.  he tends to let his mind wander. and that's ok. that's how he collects information and gathers it together into what he needs. but he does get lost. we have to bring him back in.
 
    into the depth of it. waving a flag down. to reach the possibilities forgotten. the same words again. no difference in the translation. nothing awakens.
    he awakens. another day back again. where he had been too soon. what more he has yet to do without knowing what. how long is he left here?
    he remembers being disconnected. all the while. remembering nothing. can one imagine anything like that? can one imagine anything? a hat. back to a hat.
    he looks around himself. people isolated from him and themselves. no communication. there are still no words for this. all the while.
    he reaches out and no one feels anything. they are numb. he wanders as he smiles as to how they ever know themselves at all besides their judgments and definitions placed upon them they formulate their options within.
    how did he do anything? how does he survive this? taken aside to see it dreamwise. to see this happening as just one series of possibilities and look into another. backward down through time to rework the events known and unknown. to come back and find the world anew. yet there they are still and they don't see it. he shakes his head. there is nothing he can do now. watch and wait. he sees where they are headed and by this time no power on earth can stop them. in fact the powers on earth propel them faster. the power everyone seeks to make things right.
    he sees this. he sees the self-determination of it. each one wanting more. he's backed off without entirely pulling out of it. waiting for the crash of possibilities.
 
    he wasn't thinking of too much of much lately. all that he used to think much about was almost gone but not quite. he still saw things a lot far different than any of this as it now was. he stopped thinking of ways to bring it around. it would either happen or not. how was he to know if or if not? it wasn't up to him. find his place in it where one fits into it and do whatever as little as possible as one can get away with and keep other people from giving one a bunch a shit about it and good luck to the rest. he couldn't do anything for anyone else. he was barely able to get where he was himself. he felt bad about them but he wasn't going to twist himself up about it.
    but maybe that wasn't it. he'd always gone back and forth on this as he did with everything. he got tired of it. all people saying this and that about it and no one ever listened to what he had to say about it.
    he was a dreamer and/or he was insane. all along. he had nothing for anyone including himself to believe in. they controlled it all and fought over who had the ultimate control.
    and maybe that's what he wanted himself and all that business again.
    he didn't stop. he wanted to stop. he couldn't stop. he didn't want to stop. and on and on dada.
    buried deep.
    depth. flow. ships sinking around him. he saw their faces. it bothered him to see them. twisted expressions of pain.

    this endless night of daylight. kamikaze burst of desire. nothing he feels. no thing he feels. fleeting visions as a flock of startled birds rising. no more. grasping. no more. reaching. touching. untouched. the quickness of it transformed fluid awareness. these are the words chosen of what is happening. he is washed away into seas of time waves moving about him. he sees their faces beneath the slow waxen masks. he sees into the fire of their inner radiant euphoria as they converse of daily affairs and matters of kind and worries and troubles thereof.
    why can't he tell them who he sees they are? why is he not allowed to be given the words he seeks to speak that would shatter their armored images they hold of themselves? ugliness. zombies.
    a kiss. down from the sky. lightning. he cannot move. he can barely breathe. his heart pauses in mid-beat. suspended. he knows this.
    gone. in the same instant. he is left with nothing he feels. the weight returns. gravity pulls him back into this world. he accepts this.
    he used to feel defeated. but now it's happened too often. he hardly notices anymore.
    he had hoped long ago that it could be built into a foundation or a bridge linked to the others. he found no one. he saw them turn away from it in fear.
    he felt this fear as well. he let himself go into it falling from heaven down beneath the waves and the earth where the screaming came from. he screamed. his mind screamed. his soul and being screamed. to call this agony would not describe it. he heard the screams screamed forever unable to stop or be silenced. he hears them still.
    but he stopped. he silenced himself and listened and heard as the screaming died away and another sound rose beneath it.
    his song.

    and 10,000 years later after he was assigned and posted here he finally came close to it.
    or something.
    or nothing.
    he sailed around on these seas not knowing which direction he took at anytime. and he heard and read stories of others' adventures of the same. he sang this too. he followed them. tales and rumors. fanciful myths told from long ago he had to guess what they may have originally been about if anything.
    there were no promises here. nothing guaranteed. if anything quite the opposite. many were the stories of those who lost everything they had. outcast by family and friends alike. facing accusations and lies. foolishness. possession. and in this day and age, diseases of the mind.
    he knew the fear they felt. who takes this on? who sets themselves out on this journey of madness?
    not him. he did not. he did not choose this. he wanted nothing else but a comfortable life. easy street. he was born into it. it was handed him on a silver platter. no sweat.
    but he could not close his eyes and sleep in the blissful unconsciousness required. and yet he could do nothing more than see it around him. witness it. he could not act as others did. he held himself in check or something. afraid to go one way or the other.
    he spent his life in fear. not to act. not to speak. not to blink an eye. he was afraid even to think. whenever he did his mind reeled in swirling circles and loops and spiraling in and out of everything imaginable. dizzy.
    he tried to stop it. he held onto anything he could - anyone he could. just make it stop.
    but nothing could make it stop. no one could make it stop. he couldn't make it stop. or, he wouldn't.
    he could have - maybe. he could have joined in. he could have taken one side or another. this escape from his fate was available to him. he was not doomed. yet he did not. he didn't know why. he never could explain anything he did to anyone or even himself. it just happened that way. he let it happen that way. it happened the way it happened. he did nothing to stop it. he did nothing to change it. he bitched like hell about it. he yelled and screamed and threw things. but he still let it happen. if anything he helped it on. or he was guided. either/or. driven to this here and now of finding who and what he was looking for.
    who had called him to this? who had given him his name?
    and now more than ever he doubted it. the more it became clearer the more he didn't want to see it. that was always the case but now even more. what he saw frightened him. he didn't know who he was more frightened for, himself or the others.
    but it wasn't fear. there was nothing to it to be frightened of. all coming to pass. all here and now.
    and he still did nothing to stop it from happening. and he wasn't sure whether that was a good idea or not. but how was he to know? he had nothing to trust anything about. that seemed to be the point. the others said it was. but then did they face the same thing he did? he supposed they did in their own way.
    oh well. what did it matter? did it matter to him? he got what he came here for. he expected no more. everything was pretty much gravy.
    yet they seemed to want him to do something. maybe not. to act. yet they gave him nothing to act from or with but confusion. none of them had their stories straight with one another. he couldn't find two people who agreed on anything. but so what? so why do anything more than sit back and watch it all go by? if one could. and he could. he did. for now.
    to do nothing. but he didn't do nothing. nothing much physically maybe but he constantly went through it searching for one reason to do something that wasn't contradicted by something else just as valid. he could see through it. he saw motives to motives even they weren't aware of. or didn't let on if they did.
    that's what the whole thing was - nobody let on to anything. could they? did they know? did they see that that's what it was? maybe yes. maybe no. maybe maybe. he sure wasn't gonna let on to nothing. he tried before but no one wanted to hear it. and that's pretty much how he ended up here where he was at now. he was told he could just go fuck off and die.
    he didn't necessarily want to be alone but he was finding out that it just wasn't worth the effort to put up with other people and their fucking attitudes about this and that. their smiles were wearing real thin. invisible as he saw the rotten maggot substance behind them. but they still wouldn't let any of it on. they would die inside and still that outer shell smiling like nobody's business at any and all.
    he saw those everywhere. a lot of people everywhere from all walks of life and more every day.
    weird.
    people so trapped inside themselves behind the veneer they put on.
    he laughed. he was out of that unless someone dragged him into it again. and they did. by their presence. their goddamn presence they dragged him into it again. with every word out of their mouth and with every gesture of their hand.
    and he wanted to drag them into it to show them who and what they are. he wanted to rip off the masks they wore and revel the disease growing inside them beneath all their layers of cosmetic goop. he did not want them to forget who they are and what they were doing. he did nothing. he would drag them into it by doing nothing. he would remain as much an obstacle to them as he could. to do nothing to stop it from happening. to do nothing to stop them tearing themselves to pieces.
    he laughed again.
    he lit another cigarette.

    he saw the uniforms. he saw the guns aimed and ready to fire. he saw all the people out for revenge they called justice. he saw all of them frightened to die but eager to kill. what they saw coming out of their own heads.
    this was what frightened him. when they couldn't hold it back and keep it covered over anymore and it exploded in their face out of their minds. when the monsters they tried to keep locked up tight broke on free to the other side and took them over. wild. when it all went wild. when their festering wounds opened and spewed the disease of their tranquility through them. when all evaporated and what lay hidden was exposed and reveled.
    he hoped he'd be able to hold himself through it. he should be able to since he had already been there. he had seen the world he knew go up in flames a hundred times and each time he got out of it as long as he didn't allow himself to get dragged down into it with everyone else.
    everyone else going quite mad.
    he disconnected. he shed his attachments to everyone and everything he didn't need to survive.
    he saw it coming. he'd seen it coming for a long time as he followed the path that prepared him for it. he had to let go of a lot he hadn't wanted to. he just wanted it to be alright. to be ok. to not have to think twice about everything. to be warm instead of cold.
    but it came down to this. he let it happen. he did nothing to try to stop it. and how long could he have stopped it even if he could? it would have been put off for awhile at best.
    he broke it down as much as he could as he went along ready for the final shock when it happened in realtime. and that was moving closer as he saw his visions coming to life merging into the common reality.
    and how did they miss it? how could they not see it? he didn't understand this. oh well. it happens as it is happening. he's just watching and waiting.
    because he sees past all that. he sees well past that. not the end of the world oblivion that it will be. he saw it laid down and open. or some such.
    he glided through it. the fire.
    nevermind.
    he slipped his nevermind on. a hat like that. and grinned a grin and waved the others on their way.
    good luck he wished them.

    a crone thing. a stardate. a dance. a dream date. he stood betwixt mirrors. one or the other. he was surrounded by and surrounded himself with images. never making up his mind. making up his nevermind. no direction. he listened to the noise of the people. he stood as judge. he stood as judged. pick a card, any card. he was the prosecution. he was the defense.
    he tried to let go of it. he fell into it. dragged into it. pushed into it. just a game. a joke he plays on himself. human playing god. god playing human. either way. neither way. he couldn't prove he was. no one could prove he wasn't.
    as he created circles to turn himself around in generating and gathering energy. no one could touch him. mirror. souls. fit of memory. beat. disguised as a madman. or a madman disguised as someone else. he could play this out either way. chew on it. zebras. laughing.
    zero.

    another thought of himself. why did he bother? this became nonsense. the nonsense of this becoming.
    he was thinking about how since there was guilt and once one was free of it one could live off the guilt of others. it's been done for centuries. a proud tradition. he didn't ask for much. just to be happy and free of guilt. which he pretty much was. not that others freed him of guilt. they laid all their guilt on him. then it frees them to do whatever they want to. or it should have. it didn't seem to though. as far as he could tell few were doing what they wanted to do.
    he probably had this all wrong. he always seemed to have everything all wrong. he wasn't sure. maybe he wasn't as free of guilt as he pretended. what was guilt anyway? who was guilty? who wasn't? was it subjective? was it relative? was it anything at all?
    automated radio. the world on autopilot. partytime.
    he sat back. he was thinking of something else too.
    chasms. chasms between people. everything was pointless unless these chasms were bridged.
    maybe.
    maybe not.

    and he kept trying to break it down into basic components. he saw it that way. nobody else did. and he saw no reason why they should. not if they wanted to maintain this world the way it was. carry on with the struggle whichever side of it they were on. and all of that.
    struggle. struggle to survive. survive to struggle.
    and so whatever of whatever. he couldn't figure any of it out. he didn't want to figure any of it out. he saw no reason why he should. he saw no part in any of it that was around him except parts that were defined by others. he saw no reason why he should allow himself to be dragged into it. he was fine as is. he stood off to the side and watched the others struggle on.
    he lived on this island. he lived in a city where the streets were paved with gold. what else was gold for but to walk on in one's bare feet in the city of heaven?
    and he let them war with one another forever. they could not reach him. they did not know where or when he was. they mistook him for someone else. they mistook him for a fool - for a madman. and perhaps he was. who was he to judge?
    words.
    a game of words.
    mind games.
    god covers its eyes and throws the dice. they fall and it peeks out between its fingers to see what came up. hmm, it says to itself, i didn't know i could do that.
    he thought about these things. he could not think about these things. he didn't know how to think about these things. it was so much nonsense. nonsense was the way to it. he knew it through the nonsense of it. he understood this. understanding and knowing were two different things. whatever and whatnot.
    this was what it was.
    and he didn't understand was why when other people came to the nonsense of it they dismissed it.
    oh well.
    he didn't. he dove into the nonsense of it. and others judged and defined him to be mad or a fool. that was that. he let it go. and he goes on with it. goes into it and it into him. nonsense and understanding of nonsense that others judged and defined to be madness.
    the only problem of it that remained was how to communicate out of it to anyone else across the ever-widening chasm between them and him. as they kept their distance from it and him. fear. and as he journeyed farther into it away from them. and as he went deeper into it he became more and more what they feared. a madman. a fool. a mad fool. a carrier of the disease they thought he suffered from. he made them feel uncomfortable being around them. they made themselves feel uncomfortable being around him.
    and he enjoyed this. he loved to see them squirm and fidget and be at a loss of words. he loved to see the foundation of their rigid rationalogical reality shake beneath them when he was near. he loved it when they looked at him uncomprehending how and why someone like him existed. he loved to see them confused.
    but that was that.
    he really didn't like it that much aside from these momentary moments of throwing them off balance. it usually came to confrontation and he was tired of fighting with them.
    doo-wah-ditty.
    zzzap!
    and was this anything about whatever he was thinking? going in and out of it.
    dreamtime.
    he was lost and found.
    and in this city where he lived there was a garden. and in that garden was a tree.
    he sat beneath the tree.
    the machine.
    and there he was into it and out of it.