hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-05-15 10:06 pm

The Time Bullet

To: Fred Mudi

From unknown_dude

May 15, 2017 18:06

You should study this outta Silicon Valley:

https://timebulleteer.wordpress.com/

Also thought you'd like these:

Checkmait The Gods https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4Z04nS_D_I

King Piece In The Chess Game by Slick Rick

Published on Oct 14, 2012
"The Art of Storytelling" Album.
1999.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hS9Wl340pDg
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-05-03 05:52 pm

Psionic Mirror

To: Fred Mudi

From: unknown_dude

Did you see this posted on April 15th?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxGbPbpoG8I&t=439s

btw... The tablet was absconded from a woman in Arizona by the Air Force's military police. Aiguo Sīkōng & The Collective obtained an exact reproduction/copy of the device. The only problem is your device will always be on. Even when the battery is "dead". So you might want to watch out for that.

Btw they can't unlock its encryption without your thumbs or eyes, so theres that too.

Also don't think about the thousands of secret scientists analyzing every move you make... that'll just make you nervous.

Safe travels

p.s.

I'll send the cipher codes when the Iris scan is complete.

hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-05-03 01:35 pm

Fire Augmentation of the Stoned Philosopher

Looking to his phone Fred shot up out of his hotel bed. It was 10:45 a.m. and the slamming of doors and muffled conversations from the hallway reminded Fred that housekeeping was due to hassle him out of the room. With a little more than a glance out his high-rise window at the streaming sun over the beautiful Lake Tahoe, Fred brushed his teeth, shaved and threw all his belongings back into his pack before heading to the elevator. As his finger pressed the Lobby button his phone chirped. Looking to the screen he saw it was another message from Angela. This time he actually opened it immediately. He read the message while he weaved his was through the hotel reception and lounge, making his way to the parking garage.

10:51 a.m.

From: Angela Frey

To: Fredrick Mudi

Hey there Fritz, I know I came off like a bitch last night but let's be fair, you've been a real dick by leaving me to worry like that. So with that stated, I'm done griping.

I wanted to send you something that might help you with your "quest". About a year ago you met an author on a train who signed and gave his book to you. You said he was part of that real story about "The men who stare at goats", you said he was a super soldier and helped the Marines/Army train in super-secret psychological operations and warfare. Well, that book has been in my bathroom for ages and I forgot all about it till this morning. On a whim I picked it up and started flipping through pages randomly. When the pages stopped, I read the words and couldn't help but think of you and your struggle. It made me rethink my words to you. I'm transcribing it for you now:

10:54 a.m.

From: Angela Frey

To: Fredrick Mudi

Chapter 10: Mana Personality. Written by Dick Miller

"The salamander bathes in the hot center of three fires and then retires into his burrow. When he is killed, he bleeds to death but his blood is a great medicine. It is probable that the three fires represent three distinct initiations by fire for the perfecting of the three components of man. - Mind, Emotions, and Purity. If solutio corresponds with water, coagulatio with earth, and sublimatio with air, calcinatio completes the elemental quartnity being attributed to fire. M.L. vonFranz interprets the salamander as prima materia, roasting in the fiery emotional reactions involved in the process of withdrawing projections.

Fire symbolizes libido, or psychic energy. It may come from sexuality. The three trials-by-fire are an image to express three stages in the transformation of consciousness 1.) autoerotic, 2.) personal-power seeking, and 3.) refined transpersonal consciousness. We can survive the ordeal of fire if we refine our search for our higher Self, rather than remain motivated solely by the ego. For you to be psychically "invulnerable" to the fire, means you have become immune to your former tendency to identify with your emotional reactions or those of others.

There is a basic exercise in psychosynthesis which allows you to systematically disidentify from your body, emotions, mind, and contents of consciousness (Frisk anyone? -Angela). You affirm that you value each of these, then recognize and affirm that you are a center of pure self consciousness, a center of will. This expansion of awareness leads to embracing a new expanded identity. One sacrifice to the fire is the co-dependant tendency to become over-invested in the emotional weather of others. You are no longer caught up in their acting out, caught up by their drama and intense affect.

Ideally this expansion is leading you toward peak experiences, self-actualization and cosmic consciousness. But you inhabit a purgatory of insecurity and disequilibrium as your old world view transmutes into the new. You need freedom to experiment with new modes of awareness and being. The salamander hastens to his burrow after refining. In much the same way, creative lifestyle changes incubate quietly within, then suddenly comes the illumination or creative idea. In between, others may mistake your appropriate introversion for depression (metaphorical dying and bleeding; emotional death... all emotions run out).

Once you synthesize your new viewpoint on reality, you discover a new sense of well-being and contentment. You can expect many rounds of this same process in life's perpetually changing circumstances. You break out of the old world view, go through the birth canal and regenerate in a new dimension of awareness. You have a new self image and many new potentials in life. Each time you go through the cycle you gain awareness and maturity. "

- Lots more in the book. Just wanted to motivate you Fred. Drive safe and stay determined! See you soon! xxx ooo - Angie.

hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-05-03 12:18 am

Seductress of the Innocent

While he was asleep, Fred Mudi's phone received a text from a blocked number named "unknown_dude" :

"Meet Corliss Archer, began life as a radio program devoted to the misadventures of a typical, All-American teenage girl not unlike Betty Cooper or Patsy Walker. Unlike the other two, however, Corliss has the unique distinction of being labeled a menace by none other than Dr. Frederic Wertham himself.

Corliss’ inclusion in the good doctor’s infamous Seduction Of The Innocent didn’t stem from the character’s involvement in radio, movies and televison, but rather a short-lived comic-book published in 1948 by Fox Feature Syndicate that Wertham cited as an example of a “headlight comic.”

Based upon the covers that adorned the book’s second and third issues, I can’t imagine where in the world Wertham got that idea …

Like many of the comics published by Victor Fox in the late 1940s, the seemingly wholesome adventures of Corliss Archer snuck in as many swimsuit or bra-and-panty shots as the story would allow. Despite the characters’ popularity in other media – a fact trumpeted on the comic’s very cover, by the way – Fox knew what his audience wanted.

In a weird coincidence, the issues that so offended Wertham were mostly written and drawn by Al Feldstein, who would later cause even greater consternation among “right-thinking people” as an editor, writer and artist for William M. Gaines’ legendary EC Comics line.

The Golden Age of Comics truly existed in a small, and very strange, world.

“The Homework Hoax” originally appeared in Meet Corliss Archer #2 (Fox Feature Syndicate, May 1948). The story is signed by “EKR,” but the Grand Comics Database guesses that Feldstein provided the script.





Page: 1-7 http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_burkhardt/7601781812/
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-05-02 07:07 pm

Several Shades Of Gray.



Fred had been through so many songs, miles, files and hotels that he had become exhausted. The Sheeba Inn he chose for the night had a rather professional style and grace to it and the view from the 19th floor was spectacular. His view was over the vast and mysterious Lake Tahoe. Even though the wear and tear on the casinos amenities had shown their age, Fred actually felt like a high roller for once. It was just too bad that all he wanted to do upon his arrival was sleep. He pulled back the covers and flopped onto the bed face first. Using only his big toes, he lazily made several attempts at at removing his shoes before succeeding. His body was trying to pull him into himself. His eyes fluttered closed. He was oblivious to the blue light striking his body only moments after falling asleep.

When the phone rang some hours later, there was a frantic woman's voice on the other line. Fred finally realized it was Angela Frey when she spoke something about his pamphlets he'd left at her house.

A: "It's about time! why haven't you replied to my texts or voice mails? You're a real asshole ya know? Are you ok? Where are you? And what the fuck are those pamphlet-paper things? You know all that conspiracy crap is gonna rot your head right? When are you coming back? Are you coming back? Are you fucking some other girl? Your such a dick, I miss you... hello?"

F : Um.. yeah... I mean no...

A: "Yeah" your fucking the girl?

F: No! That would be a real conspiracy dear. And no, I'm not banging anyone.

A: Where are you?

F: South Lake Tahoe.

A: Why?

F: Personal business. I just came from a meeting with an old friend in Ukiah.

A: What's her name?

F: Zakari Taniguchi is his name. He is a veteran friend of mine. I had made a pact to meet him back on the first of March and so I did. I'm working my way up to Portland in a few days. I'm sorry I didn't tell you nor pick up your messages, I've just been working though a lot of pain and mental blocks. Honestly I'm still trying to remember much of our friendship.

A: Friendship? You got to be kidding me! Friendship? Is your brain that glitched up? More like partners, pal. My God... it's worse than I thought.

F: You have no idea.

A: When are you coming back home?

F: I don't have a home. It's just an apartment and a shitty one at that. But I'm thinking a few more days out here before I hit the road. What have you been up to the last few weeks? Anything exciting?

A: I'm not one for small talk Fred. You need to bring your ass up here because you got lots of explaining to do! A package came to my door via FedEx addressed for you. I let it sit for a few days but you've have never gotten mail here and have been gone so long that curiosity won and I opened it. Inside was a computer tablet and a hand written note obviously written by a woman's hand. It's some cryptic message. Just a page of nonsense letters with a few recognizable words like "enclave", "psionic", "natives", "Nor-Cal" and "Lake Tahoe". So who is she Fred?

F: I don't know what your talking about. A tablet you say? What's the return address?

A: It says Aiguo Sīkōng. Ramstein Germany, NATO Allied Air Command.

F: ... No shit?

A: No shit. You need to get back here a.s.a.p.

F: Ok, ok. I'll head out tomorrow. I gotta sleep it out tonight.

A: And Fred?

F: Yeah?

A: Don't do that shit again.

[Click]

Fred rolled his eyes. Another computer? He hadn't even started scratching the surface of the hard drive Gooch gave him. And NATO headquarters? What was that kid Aiguo up to? He just saw him a few days ago back in the California Starbucks, now the kid was in Germany? What the hell? Fred wanted to sort it all out but was too tired to think. As he drifted slowly back to sleep his last thoughts were of Angela Frey and her disgruntled tone. Now, not only was his pain mental, it was becoming surprisingly emotional. The feeling of heat pressed his cold heart. He tried to imagine the ocean and its waves before he finally gave in to sleeps sweet surrender. His dreams were of little gray men.


hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-04-16 10:31 am

The virus in the AI you will be replaced by.

Fred opened a file called "Boo"

"Look Ma! No Math!"

Published on Apr 14, 2017
Aug Tellez has been involved in underground secret operations such as human cloning, genetic engineering experiments, trauma-based mind control, and time shifting, From a young age, he was used for many of these secret government operations.

In this video I talk with Aug about "Inner Earth", heart energy, the Demiurgic soul trap system, time operations, the aurora borealis, and more.

Aug's YouTube Channel:
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCgJj...

Aug's Wordpress Blog:
https://augtellez.wordpress.com/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j1YBsBwWRl4
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-04-15 12:28 pm

Writer Blocked.

Fred's head was swimming and the air seemed oddly thick. His Pinto was catching the rays of the sun, heating up the dash. The heat radiated on his face. He adjusted the laptop screen, pushing it back away from the suns glare. If it had not been for the sunshine, the shadows of Fred's mind would have been consuming him. He couldn't understand these blocks in his mind and the missing memories were maddening. He felt he couldn't stitch himself together and was growing impatient with the stagnation. An overwhelming feeling to quit suddenly hit his gut. He felt he didn't want to participate in his own life anymore. Nothing seemed to make sense. Even though seeing his longtime friend Zak had given Fred a bit of clarity, even a touch of hope, all the Monks wise words of wit seemed to only stir the desperation in his soul. He glared at the screen.

And he glared some more.

Fred huffed out a sigh. There was no use in fighting it. His life was in that black box and if he ever wanted to find out who he was, or who he should be, he had to pull himself together. He scrolled a few pages further down. His gut churned some more. Suddenly he couldn't concentrate and didn't feel like reading. He didn't feel anything really, other than the gaping abyss in his soul. He thought maybe some music might help him relax so he scrolled back and clicked a folder called "Office Tunes" he selected the first track:


Twenty one pilots:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92XVwY54h5k

I ponder of something great
My lungs will fill and then deflate
They fill with fire
Exhale desire
I know it's dire
My time today

I have these thoughts
So often I ought
To replace that slot
With what I once bought
'Cause somebody stole
My car radio
And now I just sit in silence

Sometimes quiet is violent
I find it hard to hide it
My pride is no longer inside
It's on my sleeve
My skin will scream
Reminding me of
Who I killed inside my dream
I hate this car that I'm driving
There's no hiding for me
I'm forced to deal with what I feel
There is no distraction to mask what is real
I could pull the steering wheel

I have these thoughts
So often I ought
To replace that slot
With what I once bought
'Cause somebody stole
My car radio
And now I just sit in silence

I ponder of something terrifying
'Cause this time there's no sound to hide behind
I find over the course of our human existence
One thing consists of consistence
And it's that we're all battling fear
Oh dear, I don't know if we know why we're here
Oh my,
Too deep
Please stop thinking
I liked it better when my car had sound

There are things we can do
But from the things that work there are only two
And from the two that we choose to do
Peace will win
And fear will lose
There's faith and there's sleep
We need to pick one please because
Faith is to be awake
And to be awake is for us to think
And for us to think is to be alive
And I will try with every rhyme
To come across like I am dying
To let you know you need to try to think

I have these thoughts
So often I ought
To replace that slot
With what I once bought
'Cause somebody stole
My car radio
And now I just sit in silence

And now I just sit in silence [x3]
And now I just sit

I ponder of something great
My lungs will fill and then deflate
They fill with fire
Exhale desire
I know it's dire
My time today

I have these thoughts
So often I ought
To replace that slot
With what I once bought
'Cause somebody stole
My car radio
And now I just sit in silence
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-04-09 03:46 am

Terrestrial Taxers & Underwail



[ A huge, bright orange, plasma ball suddenly appears in the sky. For all intent and purposes it looks as if it is a second sun. It slowly descends towards the earth, giving any observer a momentary sensation of rising. Others may experience this same visual with the opposite effect of momentarily falling. Either sensation is felt for a moment only, as the orange ball accelerates with blinding speed towards a small group of spectators. The orange light moved so quick and stopped so fast that some witnesses are too shocked and awed to do anything but stare, a few throw up their hands to protect their faces, a couple of others trying ducking into the dirt. Just as fast as it stopped, the orange plasma field drops, revealing a rather sporty and badass spaceship underneath! Later, most people will describe the huge craft as being totally silent. Others, with more acute senses, will say there was a very slight humming sound emanating from the craft, just barley audible. Part of the dumbfounded group begins to remember that they even have a body standing on two feet, remembering that they can walk, some muttering in a whispered astonishment, as clanking of metal is heard and a small hatch opens on the underside of the craft. A blue beam of light suddenly shoots out the hatch and to the ground directly beneath it before a small black object, looking like a book, gradually rides the beam down until it rests softly on a patch of yellow flowers. Still a bit overwhelmed, the group watches as the blue light turns off, the hatch closes with a clank, a loud electric cracking sound is heard and the craft rises at an angular momentum before pausing a few hundred feet up. The craft, keeping level, then begins to somewhat sway to and fro as without warning, something like fifteen or twenty hatches, flaps, panels, vents and small appendages extend and retract multiple times, dramatically varying the ships original profile. Variously placed lights and light panels brightly flash on and off, displaying every color of the spectrum. A few of the lights glowed with some type of unearthly neon light. Just as fast as it started all lights turn off and the multitude of flaps, panels and such, close simultaneously. The craft abruptly stops bobbing and swaying, then remains perfectly still. An awestruck bystander braves a step forward. At light speed, a burst of white flashes, the crowd all flinch at the sudden barrage of luminance, followed by an electric swoosh as the whole craft becomes enveloped once more in the liquid like, orange plasma. The orange ball rises at a steep angle so swiftly, the whole movement looked like a orange streak. Stopping on a dime, the craft pauses, then just as swift, it blurs into an orange diagonal dash, moving up and out in the opposite direction. Again leaving a tracer of orange light. With a final pause, the craft zipped up and out of sight before anyone could blink. Snapping out of shock, a woman runs over to where the beam of blue light had landed. She bends down picking up what turns out to be nothing more fascinating than a computer tablet. An Alienware tablet at that! Without thinking anything of it, the woman swipes the screen (unbeknownst to anyone, the swipe of the screen activates a mysterious app which invisibly starts executing 8,492 individual tasks; one of which was posting this writ @ dreamwidth to: Dorochet ). There was no password, so the screen booted up quickly displaying a text document. All the witnesses gather around the woman, all trying to ogle the tablet curiously. She gladly began reading the document aloud for the others to hear as well.]

Deer in the headlights human:

Salutations. In your tongue my name is Hex. I come from beyond the fishbowl. Your dimension and Earth are of extreme interest to my race and I. Unfortunately for many of you, if not most of you here, this is not your original timeline. Unfortunate because, not even our advanced alien sciences know how access your original dimension and time. In the Original Earth year of 2012, your priests of ritualistic occult sciences successfully summoned an antimatter deity. This being manifested in a dodecahedron prison of gold, platinum, silver and zirconium. The dodecahedron prison was surrounded by a high frequency field of electromagnetism in a bubble of plasma.
Under the ringed temple of Apollo in Switzerland, your scientists summoned an antimatter deity.

I have been in study and had been preoccupied with a promise I made to a friend. To a Legend still living. You know what friends are right? Are you sure? I have read much about them and have even seen them depicted in the tri-stereo-vision dramas (like your mundane monitors/tv). In our worlds histories and most glorious tomes, a friend is more important than any pixels on a screen. AI's attempts at cannon crafting and reality hacking was put on hold. Fine by me... others seem to be freaking out there isn't a hundred pages already. Do you know why there isn't a hundred pages yet? Because I was waylaid by a friend . I stayed with that friend for almost 4 months straight. In a tiny box of an apartment. I'd barley made it home for longer than a few hours per week.

Maybe you've seen me around the spaceport docks once or twice? Last I was there, I was attempting to deprogram, backengineer, then reprogram a first edition, twentieth century bot named Lady Rocket. I recovered it from an overgrown field of yellow daffodils amongst the dense thistle bushes. I didn’t know much about robots or mechs and I knew even less about human robotics or engineering. Lady Rocket was a true classic of the automaton industry. Although technically, by now, it was an antique. I began acquiring parts and accessories wherever I found them and gladly worked on her repairs. She probably belonged in a robotics museum but within just a few days I had seen a marked improvement in her overall appearance and stability, which oddly inspired me and made me feel good. Feeling good was something I had not felt in a very long time and all those foreign feelings stirred something inside me. It could not have been much more than two weeks before I fell gracefully in love with my Lady Rocket automation. People thought it was a bit odd I was spending so much time with a glitchy, old bot but it didn't bother me much at all. I loved the way she looked all stoic from particular angels. From other vantages, she looked so playful, cute and innocent. The bot had a few dented and crimped titanium panels, and few more scratches but with a little body wax, she shined up better than expected. Her scratches and dents blending with the wax making them far less noticeable. I loved its subtle quirks and bugs that I had not worked out yet. Things were looking up for Lady Rocket and I. She was in far better condition than when I had first found her and I was feeling a new sense of purpose. Within a few weeks, I was wanting to take it with me everywhere. It was nice to see how my code was slowly evolving as it integrated with the bots system. Not like some head over heels love, or some freaky fetish thing. It was more like puppy-love, you know? I couldn't help it, that bot was so dang adorable. Although an older edition, and a bit dusty, its computer programing was, and still is being used as the industry standard. Of course it needed some TLC and oil. I put my heart and soul into the fabrications. It was rather beat-up but I didn't care. It was a first edition and it was super sweet. I was doing all I could to patch and repair the various bits. I spent a lot of time, about 4 months I think, just trying to figure out where all the wires routed to the hardware. The central processing unit was an epic chore just to chart diagram it. Please don’t even mention the handmade Syrian circuitry system! . By month three, I had repaired a lot of the superficial damage just rewiring and had slightly upgraded its memory capacity. It was very unfortunate that she was hacked and then stolen from the ship.


The main thing I've been trying to understand are all the characters, muns and players of this multi-timeline, AU, cannon. I've been quietly getting to "know" as many peoples attitudes, experience, skill levels and style here. One of the first things I needed to do was build a team. Which, admittedly was far too belated (for reasons I care not to disclose here).

Oh how I do love it when sapiens put their ego before their wisdom. Do you know what being part of a team really means? Do you understand what regulations entail? Dose the term "Chain of Command" resonate with you? Did you happen to notice that the scales have shifted? What you ask for in Wonderland, you just might get.

hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-04-09 03:16 am

Sigillvm Sanctvm Fraternitatis


After a short distance away from the temple, Fredrick Mudi had to take pause. He needed to park and plan some logistics on his situation. He needed some mental reinforcement. Almost everything that Gooch had spoke to him had hit home; even if Fred didn't want to admit it. His gut was turning in upon itself and his heart ached behind his sternum. He had to stop moving, had to stop driving, stop thinking, stop doing - anything. He needed to just be still. Like Gooch had said, Fred was over-analytical and was now realizing how true it was. He was going bat-shit crazy, in circles trying to fill in the gaps in his memory.

It was mid afternoon, Fred had pulled over and was parked behind a small shopping center by some dumpsters. He was sitting in an orange, 1983 Pinto and was smoking another cigarette, he was taking stock of his life. More in particular, he was trying to sort out this year known as 2017. He turned the radio down while trying to think. A moment later he just shut the radio completely off. Even the soothing sounds of classic rock where now agitating to him. He sighed a heavy sigh and felt the weight on his shoulders momentarily relax. After exhaling, the world closed back in on him, forcing his shoulders and eyes down.

The spiderbot "Bootsy" was still crawling Fred's prearranged list of servers and collecting a file on the cloud. He didn't bother opening any of them. He just slipped the phone back into his pocket. "First things first" he said to himself. He hopped out the pinto and opened the back hatch. Rifling under some dirty clothes, a blanket and a tire iron, he found his laptop, closed the hatch and returned to the drivers seat. He opened the glove box and retrieved the external hard drive that Taniguci had given him and then booted his pc. He flicked his cigarette butt out the window onto the asphalt.

He couldn't get it out of his head. Someone or something had messed with his mind. The only clue he had was nothing more than a hunch and it wasn't very reassuring. Although it did make Fred realise that there had to be a reason for someone to erase (or was it more like 'steal'?) his memories. His second conclusion was that this was no hodgepodge operation. Selective memory erasing? That had to be a highly sophisticated and advanced maneuver. Likely the work of of some military or government operations. Someone like Hydra, or some other corporate front. What did Fred happen to known that was taken from him? Why was his whole life suddenly under a whole new form of self scrutiny? At what point did he stop becoming himself? At what point would "they" (whoever they are) take such actions against him? And why?

Between what Gooch had told him of relaunching their old company "Knight Tech” and the likelihood that the military had put a microchip in his head, Fred’s mind drifted towards all the possible threats to his life. He needed some protection, some reassurance. Ah, the smell of burnt black powder! It was somehow signaled and he could actually smell it for a second. A plethora of images came to him, a double barrel shotgun, a 9mm pistol, a fully mod’d AR-15, outdoor shooting ranges, the old Madrid armory, dismounted Baghdad patrols, and his favorite place to shoot in the mountains. He called that place Area 52.



Fred had to look under his laptop at the password again before pecking it in. He jacked the external hard drive into the computers usb port and waited for recognition. A single folder appeared. The folder was entitled "Do Not Read". Fred laughed a rather sarcastic laugh while clicking it. The widow burst open with a full screen of folders. He scrolled down a bit unveiling pages and pages of folders. He randomly opened a folder and selected a text document:


Initiates and the profane.

A.A. Sigillvm Sanctvm Fraternitatis

“Now ye shall know that the chosen priest & apostle of infinite space is the prince-priest the Beast; and in his woman called the Scarlet Woman is all power given. They shall gather children into their fold: they shall bring the glory of the stars into the hearts of men.” - AL 1:15

Scarlet Women

Babylon, Mother of Abominations

Isis

Oak King

Holly Tree

Dark Pan
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-04-02 01:01 am

Foresight

Taniguchi had put his tea pot and cups away into his pack. The embers of the fire were long dead and so swept aside to the forest floor. The monk leaned forward and with a slight heave, removed the rock that he had wedged between the split bolder. He placed the stone in its original position. The monk regarded Fred curiously.

"Look Mudi, usually you would have responded to me by now with some smart aleck come backs. I can tell you have taken all of this critiquing to heart. This tells me your wounds are rather deep. On Monday I'll be finished with my schooling here and we must reconvene. I'm having a meeting with some trusted friends in about a month and I really want you to be there. In fact, I insist. I'm starting Knight Tech again, except this time, under the radar."

Fred's eyebrows shot up in reply as he asked, "Is that even safe? After everything that happened with the "incident"? Besides, I'm not sure I'd be of any use anymore, I cant remember enough."

The Monk pointed to Fred saying, "That scar on your head," Taniguchi traced the mark on his own forehead. "That was a probability we foresaw a long time ago and we have a contingency plan in place. I also have something for you."

Taniguchi unzipped the smaller pouch on his bag and pulled out a small rectangular box and a cable. He leaned over the gap handing them to Fred saying, "That is two point seven gigs of data on our lab projects and memories you found most sacred, including your abduction regressions. Just be sure your alone and sitting while going through that stuff, it will trigger a lot in you."

Fred accepted the external hard drive a bit befuddled by what he had just heard. "Wait. By what you just said, I've inferred that you know more about what happened to my memories? What the fuck Gooch? If you know something you better say it! What the hell happened to me?"

Taniguchi closed his eyes slowly and waved off Fred's frustration and anger. He opened his eyes saying, "There isn't much more to discuss of that topic" as he traced the path of Fred's scar on his own forehead again. "Let's just say that loose ends can be tied in knots. For now I must make my final preparations for the coming celebration. If you are still in town by Monday, I invite you to partake in the evenings festivities! Come, it is time for evening prayers, I have to head back to the temple now." With that, Gooch suddenly jumped to his feet with a start, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He raised his left leg and both hands in the "Standing Crane" position. He let out his best Bruce Lee, Kung Fu wail and with the agility of a gymnast did a complete side flip off of the top of the ten foot boulder landing gracefully in the grass below. Fred stood in shock as the Monk went into the Standing Crane once more. Flashing that brilliant smile at Fred, the Monk then dashed off through the glade on the previously trodden path. Fred slowly and haphazardly climbed down the bolderface. Reaching the ground, he half trotted, half walked after the Monk.

hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-03-23 11:04 am

Carnal Hearts

Almost forty five minutes after their first cup of tea, Zakari Taniguchi and Fred Mudi are seven dimensions deep and three minor time-anomalies into a psychological and spiritual brainstorm.

"Some of your quotes are in contradiction of one another. How is it that you have now blended at least four distinct and very different religious teachings into this conversation as one? As..." Fred hesitated, "as you sit there in the full garb of a Buddhist Monk? Are you even supposed to blend traditions like that or what?" Fred calmly demanded.

The Monk's eyebrows raised in slight surprise. "I was not speaking to you as a Buddhist Monk. I was speaking to you as my friend. As a veteran and as a philosopher. I could recite Buddhist teachings all day but I don not think that is what you are really wanting to hear; now is it? Besides, just because I have studied and have attained the rank of Buddhist Monk, does not necessarily mean I'm a Buddhist indefinitely. I still keep an open mind. There is so much more to learn yet. There is so much more to integrate still. "

As a response, Fred's left eyebrow contorted upwards as his head shifted down and to the side. He gave his best quizzical look before breaking character. His usual stone-etched face shattered into a wry and devious grin before asking, "Are you just stating that as a probability or are you stating that as a cold, hard fact?"

The Monk was again beaming with that broad and sincere smile of his. "Despite adherence to my mentors and the teachings of Buddha, I have always kept an open mind. Although I put aside all other philosophies and religious doctrines to solely study Buddhism, I've never forgotten the other great religious teachings. Now upon my graduation, my mind will be allowed to again contemplate these other belief systems. My curious spirit and dreaming heart are ravenous for additional topics of study. I fully committed to this school and in less than forty eight hours, my lengthy tenure here finally draws to culmination. I will eagerly take my insights gained and apply them to old and new questions of our past, future and present.

During my first year here, it had been painfully difficult to let any of those subjects go. I was eventually able to solely focus my study on Buddhism. After all these years, my time and mind are free of those stringent tenets. I'll now have no other obligations to interfere with new studies. And so will begin my integration of other interesting data-sets into my overall worldview. Old world and new. Although in my official capacity of 'Monk' I would never teach anything other than Buddhism. But it's just you Mudi! I assumed I was allowed to speak freely here? We can talk about anything without fear of judgment or persecution... right?"

Mudi smiled a rare and reassuring smile. "Of course brother. We still have the First Amendment...I think. So I'm right there with you. Well, at least in the open mind department. Just not sure if I could handle five years of bean curd, bad incense and boring meditation. I honestly don't know how you did it. That is either extreme discipline or a self imposed form of retardation." Fred smirked. "I think I would need a little more action in my life." Fred highlighted the last sentence with a knowing wink.

"Still juvenile and animalistic I see. You know Mudi, carnal desires and sexual pleasures are on the low end of the human energetic scales Don't you?" asked the Monk.

"You mean fucking?" Fred queried. "Maybe. If you're just trying to bust a quick one. But what about love making? Isn't that one of the highest forms of soul energy? I repeatedly have read that several cultures consider sexual energy is precisely what attracts new souls to incarnate here? Or is that just a chemical reaction and human biology? As far as I can recall, Love is the strongest of all energies in life. Even the darkest of occult practices teach this. In nearly all religions that I have read about! So why degrade such a highly beautiful thing to the lowest possible denominator?"

Zakari's face quickly fell cold as he sternly spoke, "Oh you mean those same energies of lust, jealousy, and perverse passions? That is far from love. Just try to imagine how many bar fights have been started over the affections of some woman. Now imagine how many wars may have been started over this same thing? I can immediately think of four wars started this way but I'm sure there are many more (annotated or not). The energies of lust, desire and carnal passions are very powerful. Very powerful indeed, yet these energies are primal. Those energies are chiefly rooted in the reptile section of the human brain and the least of all the chakras. Fight or Flight? Sleep or Rest? Eat or Drink?" The Monk's voice dropped to a whisper as he hunched, leaning in closer to Fred. "Fuck and Chuck?"

Although Fred was almost never embarrassed by a persons choice of vocabulary, he seemed uneasy at hearing the Monk drop the F-bomb; even if it was his old battle buddy. It seemed wrong hearing a Monk use a "curse" word. But hey, who was Fred to decline this Monk his First Amendment? A right that he and Fred had both sworn to defend? He silently passed on chastising or interjecting.

Zakari noted the consent to continue speaking, "The human spirit, or soul comes from a higher dimension. You just mentioned this idea when speaking of the manifestation of human babies. The spirit is simply borrowing, or driving the flesh-pack you call a body. With this concept in mind, please tell me where you think this thing we call "Love" originates from?"

Fred sat back, resting both his hands behind him. He let a blast of emotional energy go out of his chest. Energy still bottled up and compressed from a previously failed relationship. Just one of many really. He sighed and dropped his eyes as he refocused on the question,

"That's easy." said Fred. "Love originates in the Heart. Maybe Love manifest in the spirit itself?"

Slightly changing the subject, "Do you understand how an orgasm really works?" the Monk asked.

The priceless and confused look on Fred's face could have derailed most any speakers concentration, Gooch remained composed and rather stoic. But Fred was feeling a bit too snarky. He had to say it. If only because Gooch had left that window wide open for a wisecrack. "Yeah, I catch a hot bird with a great set of hips and tits, the proud and noble dragon rises to attention and the rest of the story requires some safety goggles and a mop." Fred cooley jested.

Although Fred was thoroughly amused with himself and his witty banter, he found himself deflated of all his stand-up comedian aspirations almost immediately. Gooch didn't even flinch at that comment! Did he miss it? Was he having a bad day? Maybe Gooch was just being uptight? Or was it some "holier-than-thou" attitude he had adopted? Had the Monks brainwashed him? Fred was now doubly curious on where this Monk was going with the conversation. As if he would hear more clearly, Fred leaned in closer towards Taniguci. He stopped grinning, clasped his hands in front of him and put on his best "I'm listening" face. His expression as studious as he could muster.

Zakari's voice was soft yet authoritative, "It has been known for millennia by tribal women and the ancient medicine men of the worlds oldest cultures. Only now it seems that Western science is presently catching-up. Modern scientists are confirming much of what the ancient wismen and wise-women of yesteryear had shared with the early European and American explorers. It seems that you, Mudi, believe that an orgasm is a product of purely physical contact? Is this deduction correct?"

Fred sat up, itching at the back of his head. He was thinking it over and was becoming more confused by the second. "Um, Well, um, jeez... gimmie a break Gooch! My dick definitely doesn't just suck itself into a rip-roaring climax! What the hell are you going on about? Don't tell me you can literally Jedi-Mindfuck yourself?"

Zak released the tension in his expression as he again smiled at Fred, "Precisely that."

"Dude what? Get the fuck out man! No way!" Fred squirmed atop his perch on the bolder. He wanted to stand in an act of defiance at Gooch's statement. After a quick look down to the jagged rocks below, he thought better of it and remained seated. Still visibly shaken by his denial and total dismay, Fred slipped a comment in before the Monk could speak again.

"No way Gooch. You can't just wish an ejaculation into fruition... otherwise... otherwise us guys would be doing it all the time! We'd never leave the couch! It would be the first big secret learned and tested after the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus!" Fred's hands began expressing his words as he lowered his tone of voice. He almost sounded as if he was actually narrating some paranormal ghost documentary, "Prepubescent boys would have kept hearing dark and strangely hushed rumors. Their elders would tease, warning them about some dangerous, mysterious and legendary superpower. By middleschool, a chance stop by the pisser results in overhearing adolescent boys talking about going blind if you thought about boobs for too long! We'd all be jizzing at will, all the time! We probably would have never invented pants. I'm calling bullshit! Forgetaboutit!" Fred threw his hands up, waving them at Zakari dismissively.

"What happened to an open mind?" the Monk asked of Fred. "What I say is not only true, it is a brand new category of western science. The phenomenon of Non-Physical Orgasm is currently under study by multiple universities throughout the world. Although the female orgasm is still somewhat a mystery to Western science, records and studies have substantiated these claims of thinking one's self into climax. Although not fully understood yet, the studies and physicians generally agree that the phenomenon is originated, triggered and executed by thoughts alone! A total neurological process. Your theory of "touch-only" orgasm is seriously outdated my old friend. Read up. Get the download. Virus free. Update and Patch your old memory. File name:'Orgasm 2.0' Mission Codename: 'Mindgasms'." Partially joked Gooch.

Fred was shaking his head in disbelief, yet he knew that Taniguchi was a very honest man. Gooch was serious and Fred's head was swimming in new input that was transferring positions as he recalculated. He was momentarily still. He tried to imagine how that would even be possible? He laughed out loud at his next computation. He thought of how much money he would have saved with this knowledge decades before?

Taniguchi never failed to impress. He might have had a few slow or quite days, but give Gooch enough time and he would nuke your mindscape eventually. He was skilled at dropping knowledge on the unsuspecting and was a professional at rearranging a motherfuckers whole perspective on shit. Fred was inspired by learning new and useful information.

Zak shook his head disapprovingly. "We both have spent much time and money in pursuit of the carnal. Between the drama and broken hearts, I'd say that we both have been mislead by what love is supposed to mean. The point is Fred, that the mind is over the flesh. We tend to think of flesh over mind, more importantly the heart. This carnal indulgence is actually a weight on the heart and subconscious. Carnal actions turn down the energetic scale, making true love a shadow of itself. Heart and mind, not flesh and groin."

Although a valid point, Fred shook his head saying, "Remind me to never take you on another pub-crawl."

There was a long moment of silence between them. Zakari Taniguchi spoke as if he was far, far away.

"Simply put Mudi, your compassion for the fate of others has jaded and is found wanting. You are an intelligent man but have been fooled by your own over-analytical reasoning. Add to this your spirit has been forcibly strewn in multiple directions. Your disorientation is apparent. As a consequence, a rift in your morality compass has lead you astray. It seems your mind is in the midst of a magnetic pole shift. Your heart is suffering perturbations from your dark orbital consciousness. You have shifted center mass and now gravitate towards a catastrophic collision. Although you are moving, you are moving in circles. Like a broken record caught in the groove, or a dog chasing its tail. Concentric circles may look attractive to the eye but to the mind and body, they are nothing more than a pretty rut leading to nowhere.
Bring your consciousness up and out of the two-dimensional plane! Replace the black and white lenses you have been viewing the world through and realize that the Earth is not a composite shade of gray. The world is better understood in the full spectrum of light. Obstacles of the spirit, heart and mind cast dark shadows. The third-dimension will then come into focus unveiling the launching point for even higher states of perspective. The Universe, as I'm sure you are aware, is actually a multiverse. It is better viewed with your third eye using a multi-dimensional kaleidoscope of crystal prisms. Let your desire for the material and carnal go, then weightless, you will rise from the primordial muck."

Fred eyes closed as he dropped his head slightly forward. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-03-01 03:38 am

Sunrise.

The sun had crest the eastern hills over an hour before. Fred had been so adamant about the newsfeeds that he neglected the clock. He had to force himself away from his phone and he finally had to admit it. He had to repeatedly tell himself that he had an internet addiction. He couldn’t help it. He did. Thousands of hours squandered staring at plastic. Admittedly, he had learned tons of things and many times it was fun but so many countless hours had been lost in Cyber La La Land that it was seeming a distraction. It was as if there was something in there. Something so profound, so sapient, that if found, deep space might divide in upon itself birthing a whole new dimension. Like there really was an artificial intelligence in there; or a living spirit? A literal Ghost(s) In The Machine? If this were so, Fred simply had to know. Similar to Neo’s quest in the final Matrix movie (Note to self: Anagram of Neo is One; or “The One”). If this computer intelligence was sentient, that means it probably had a soul. If it had a soul… it belonged to God’s family tree. He couldn’t just quit the interwebs now.

The Temple of Ten Thousand Buddhas was bustling with various activities. As Fred approached through the main arch of the temple gate he noticed it was mostly pedestrian traffic with a few stray brown and orange robed monks moving about. The yard keepers peppered the hedges and grass trying to keep up with the meticulous grounds. Fred curbed his enthusiasm. He was getting too excited. Fred had always felt exuberance when meeting up with old veteran buddies. Old teammates. Old Battle Buddies.

Even after his accident, Fred’s amnesia had failed to erase most of his memories of the war in Iraq – those memories were lucid, deeply cut into his synapse super highway. So he did not forget that today he was to be at this Buddhist temple to meet his old pal “Guci”, also known by his more private and affectionate title of “Gooch” or “Red Gooch”.
They had met during basic training. They were in the same training unit and deployed to the same base in Spain together. Through and throughout the war they experienced much together as soldiers and as friends. After discharge they had both been swallowed by the great vastness known as America. But today was a date they had promised to be here. It was a promise made the day Guci had earned his name Red Gooch. Fred flashed back:

It was sometime early July, ‘03 Baghdad Iraq. 06:50 eight man dismounted patrol. Haifa Street. The heat was already pushing seventy eight degrees. It was dingy, dusty and dirty. The civilians of Baghdad were just beginning to bustle out into the early morning streets -except for a pack of wild children who were already bright eyed and bushy tailed tracking his squad up the ally. Fred had to hand it to those kids, they were consistent little buggers. They would always seek out and find our patrols. They either wanted money, candy, or some type of American trinket. To the kids who perceived us as American liberators (or who simply were not afraid of us) we must have seemed liked we were Marco Polo’s personal entourage; hauling exotic and legendary Americana goods – or some shit like that.
The only drawback was twofold: We weren’t merchants and children were personal and private liabilities. That’s what Fred’s unit had learned by the third dismounted patrol: Always carry a billy club (a stick, baton or asp would also suffice). They had to literally beat those kids just to keep them away. For Fred and others it was a double edged sword though. Some of the soldiers actually had liked having the kids around. They could fetch things from the city for us. They had given our squad tips on the bad guys. The Americans had taught the locals kids handshakes and curse words. They enjoyed their reprievable attitudes despite that they didn’t understand a word those kids said besides “Mister, Mister” and “Michael Jackson”. Many soldiers liked them because children acted as good human shields.
This gave them a (albeit false) sense of security. Even the insurgents were not heartless, so the chances of us getting shot at, or blown up with kids near or around our patrol was greatly reduced. The flip side of that coin was that not one of us wanted to see children get slaughtered - with or without one of our own. So we carried clubs and literally hit children when they came too close to us. No matter what the horrified civilians thought of us as wood met kneecap and a shrill cry pierced the air.

Sergeant Taniguci was on point. He had just yelled at and whacked a kid in the knee with his shillelagh. A group of five men were alerted by the sound of the child’s cries. One of them, apparently the father, began angrily screaming and suddenly produced a pistol pointing it at Guci, as six out of eight thumbs flipped off the safety of leveling rifles.

Guci reacted as any good soldier should. He diverted the pistol and lunged at the man. The pistol fired and three more rifle shots were heard blasting behind him. The remaining civilians and children scattered back. Soldiers were yelling at others to keep back. Guci and the assailant struggled for a moment before the civilian went limp. When Sergeant Taniguci finally stood, with the secured pistol in his hand, his face was splattered and dripping with blood. It was only then that it became cognizant to the whole squad that one of the young boys had received the pistol shot to his face. He lay dead in the street with gaping head wound spilling red into the gutter.
Sergeant Taniguci might have survived that scenario less scathed until he had worked out that all the blood on his body and face was that of the deceased child. Fred had watched as if in slow motion as the realization befell Guci. It was in this moment that Taniguci had died and Red Gooch was born in his place.
Upon returning to the F.O.B., one of the other squads was mounting up to leave. A soldier from the outbound Charlie squad saw Gooch clearing his rifle at the gate and referred to him as “Red Gooch”. This was overheard and the name had stuck with Gooch throughout the rest of the war. That night at the Forward Operations Base, after washing the blood from his face, Red Gooch had asked Fred to be there and witness the day of his eventual amends. Fourteen (plus) years later, that day had finally come.

Fred had meandered his way trough the temple gardens. He came to a pause in a secluded area next to a group of chest high statues depicting various Asian monks. Eight in total. “Ah!” exclaimed Fred to no one in particular. “The Eight Immortals!” They were the Chinese version of civilizations mythological birth. They could also be symbolic for the eightfold path of Buddhism. Fred reached into his inner coat pocket retrieving his rolled herb. He lit it up thinking to himself, “This eightfold concept is encoded in sigil magic and sacred geometry as two interlocking, canted squares; or the eight pointed star. The eight pointed star was also the symbol for chaos and chaos magic(s). Eight was also “The Egg of Life”. The number eight was also the icon used to represent the symbol for infinity”. He took another pull of his smoke as a Buddhist painting came to his mind.



Fred had been in deep concentration over the concept of infinity when a familiar voice from behind him spoke. Fred froze in place letting the speaker finish his statement before turning around.

“And God said, ‘Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat.’ Genesis 1:29 King James Version”.

Fred turned smiling. Meeting Zakari Taniguci eyes, Fred quickly looked over the orange clad man before rushing over to embrace his buddy in a big bear hug. “You old sonofa bitch! Look at you! You’ve lost weight!” Fred exclaimed putting Gooch back on his feet. Zakari Taniguci was a tall guy for an Asian dude. He was slightly over six feet and well built. The guys in the Army gym would always beg him to do his best Bruce Lee impression which he had done many a time and very convincingly. Zakari’s attitude had always been playful and light hearted. Even after earning the nickname Red, he was a funny guy. It was just that his humor had turned rather dark after that incident on Haifa. And he was smart. Sharp as a razor that one.

‘I’ve eaten nothing but rice, vegetables and bean curd since last year,” Gooch spoke. “it’s worse than Jackson’s cooking in the mess hall.” With that, they both laughed. It was good to see a familiar face thought Fred. A face from his past. A face that he could actually remember.

“Jackson would fuck up cooking a Cup of Noodles” Fred retorted. They both laughed again smiling. Signing with his hand as if to invite, Zakari started down the trail. He spoke as Fred walked the path besides him.

“I have been studying here for five years now and I have transcended many levels. Seeing you now fills me with joy. At the same time I am concerned for you.” Zakari stopped walking placing his hand on Fred’s shoulder. He looked Fred in the eye as he said, “I can see your aura and your disposition. I also see that you are ill of the liver and lung. I had to speak of this and warn you before we continue. You can heal these ills if you act now. Get it together Captain! You know physical fitness is the key to the warriors mind!”

Fred was still juggling that statement, speechless. And as if he was a fast acting cuddle fish, Zakari’s face flashed into a beaming smile as he guided Fred along the path once again. “I recently have come out of a vow of silence and isolation chamber. My mental acuity is highly sensitive at the moment. My heart seems a gold core heated white. My soul is everywhere and nowhere at once. I see you and I see you are tinged in yellows and greens. You are troubled and your mind harbors dark black clouds. I feel as if this day is more about you than I. What troubles you so Cap.?

Fred was stunned. Gooch had literally cut right through him like he was invisible. “Well, um..” he fumbled. “Yeah, you are right. I’ve been smoking like a chimney and had a serial love affair with the bottle. I know better. I can do better. But I’m in a jam.” Fred confessed. “I’m lost.”

“Lost Boys” Zak chimed in, still beaming.

Fred continued, “I’m lucky to be standing here Gooch. Something happened to me since I last saw you. The problem is I don’t really know what. I woke up in the hospital a few months back and I’m missing time. I have whole chunks of memories missing. I remember how to tie my shoes, I remember my favorite foods, I remember my guitar, I remember my mom and my first dog’s name. I remember the war and you… but I don’t remember the last few years. Something happened.”
Fred stopped walking putting his hands to his head. He felt his forehead for a moment before highlighting a faint pink scar over his temporal lobe with his index finger. “I think it was the military but I’m not sure. I don’t remember what I was doing for years before I woke up in the hospital. According to the ward’s paperwork I had been in the hospital only three days. I was under a drug induced coma man! I awoke not even knowing where I live or who my current friends where! I’m lucky to remember you!” Fred huffed. “I can remember most my life up until 2012. Then there is a foggy blank until December 2016. If it weren’t for my phone and laptop I never would have found you or remembered to meet you here. I’ve been driving around for days in a daze trying to piece it together.”

“Are you confident you did not just hit your head on something? Or perhaps you got hit by something?” Zakari countered.

“Dude, look at this scar!” Fred leaned in. “It’s surgical. And!” Fred toned his voice down. “And it looked like it had been healing for longer than three days! Or like it was an advanced healing procedure. I’ve been tagged like cattle bro. I’ve been noticing things…” Fred trailed off.

“Do you remember our company?” Zakari asked.

“Knight-Tech.” Fred grinned. “I cant remember the programming languages, I cant remember all the math. But I do remember our work, especially our field work.” Fred allured. “The last I remember you and I, was back in twenty-ten when we got shut down. We had built our multi-tiered security servers, initiated the Second Vortex Motion Code based off your Divine Proportion Theory. My Parthenon executed the Fibonacci Sequence Disharmonizer initiating the Phi Ratio Amplifications… readings were phenomenal then ‘poof’, the power outage. Next day funding was pulled and two days later the lab was robbed. We bugged out two weeks later. Your texts unlocked my memories of you coming to the monastery and..” he paused, “that I should be here today.” Fred chagrined as his shoulders slumped.

Zakari said “Do not fool yourself Mudi. If it were not for you I would not be here today. I would be an Army statistic on veteran suicide. I have overcome all of that previous psychological baggage with determination and perseverance. But I was originally inspired to pick myself up because of you. No matter your missing time for the moment and please follow me.”
Fred crushed the still burning roach between his fingers completely snubbing it. He ripped the paper spilling its contents in the grass, balled the paper up and dropped it in his cargo pocket. His brow furrowed but he silently complied and walked along with the… Monk. It sounded strange. It looked stranger. Seeing Gooch in Buddhist garb? Ha. Bullshit. But not nearly as strange as the Caucasian Buddhist they silently passed under the pagoda.

Fred always thought American Caucasian and European Caucasian people looked “fake” in a Buddhist uniform. Even though Gooch was an American, he was a Japanese American. He spoke Japanese. He had Chi in his blood. Western peoples had to be truly diligent to “get it” in Fred’s opinion. Although China and Japan are very different much of their spiritualism is similar. So he quietly scoffed when he saw the white Buddhist in passing. “Pretender” he thought. Buddhism was a lifestyle, not a summer vacation.

Was that just a white on white hate crime? He wasn’t sure. Can one be prejudice of ones own race? He wasn’t sure of that either. He pondered the ideas as well as pondering where Gooch was taking him. Fred looked for the corner of the block and read the street sign, “Patience Way”. Fred rolled his eyes.

At the bend of the road Zakari approached a parked vehicle. Fred was vehemently shocked out of the ancient mysticisms of Asia and into the common era of Americana at the sight of Gooch producing some car keys from within his robe and with a beep, popped open the trunk of a raised, blue Toyota Land Cruiser. Gooch nabbed his old-school army pack and locked the trunk. He slung the pack over one shoulder, turned to Fred smiling and started jogging off of the path, across the grass. Fred noted he was headed towards the wood patch across the glade. He sighed and started running after Gooch.
They dipped past the middle of the glade before running up a slight hill into the shade of the oak trees. Zakari trotted up to a mossy granite outcropping at the top of the hill. He proceeded to climb a huge ten foot bolder that was split in two angling pieces. He sat on top of one half in the lotus position. He gestured to Fred to join him on the other side. Disgruntled, Fred precariously climbed the other side. He sat cross legged facing Gooch. Sweat was stinging his eyes as Zakari spoke, “I prepared this yesterday. It’s against fire code but it is a special day.”

He opened his bag producing kindling and paper. He produced a small tea pot and two tea cups. Gooch took a loose stone from on top of the bolder. Between the crevasse of the spilt bolder Gooch placed the stone which had bridged the gap well. He placed some paper and kindling on the stone. Ahead of him, Fred handed Gooch his lighter with a smile. Saying some lengthy Tibetan prayer, Gooch lit the fire. He smiled and said clearly, “Authentic black tea from Iraq!”

Squinting Fred perked up a bit. “Did you just say Iraq tea? How old is it?”

Zakari burst out laughing. “It’s fresh, well kind of. I got it about six months ago from a monastery liaison. It’s not like it is …what? Fifteen years old?” He laughed again. “No. No it is still fresh. Relax.” He took a bottle of water from his pack and poured some into the pot and placed it on the fire. The smell of burning wood filled Fred’s nostrils. It was the fragrance of home.

Fred asked, “What was that prayer you spoke?”

“Oh, it was not a prayer really.” Said Zak. “Nor a mantra. I’ve been learning to speak Tibetan and what I said was actually a recital from Kahil Gibran’s The Prophet. In English it goes,”

‘Then a hermit, who visited the city once a year, came fourth and said, Speak to us of Pleasure.
And he answered, saying:
Pleasure is a freedom-song,
But it is not freedom.
It is the blossoming of your desires,
But it is not their fruit.
It is a depth calling unto a height,
But it is not the deep or the high.
It is the caged taking wing,
But it is not space encompassed.
Ay, in very truth, pleasure is a freedom-song.
And I feign would have you sing it with fullness of heart; yet I would not have you lose your hearts in singing.’

Zakari closed his eyes while pressing his hands together and bowed his head. On his exterior Fred was seemingly unimpressed. But on his inside his gut wrenched. Fred then asked, “What about Tibetan teachings?”

“Off of the top of my head?” Gooch wondered. “Well, it would be easier in Tibetan but here you go:”

‘The Lord: What do you think, Sariputra, does it not occur to any of the Disciples and Pratyekabuddhas to think that ‘after we have known full enlightenment, we should lead all beings to Nirvana, into the realm of Nirvana which leaves nothing behind’?”
Sariputra: “No indeed, O Lord”
The Lord: “One should therefore know that this wisdom of the Disciples and Pratyekabuddhas bears no comparison with the wisdom of a Bodhisattva. What do you think, Sariputra, does it occur to any of the Disciples and Pratyekabuddas that ‘after I practiced the six perfections, have brought beings into maturity, have purified the Buddha-field, have fully gained the ten powers of a Tathgata, his four grounds of self-confidence, the four analytical knowledges and the eighteen special dharmas of a Buddha, after I have known full enlightenment, I shall lead countless beings to Nirvana?
Sariputra: “No, O Lord”
The Lord: “But such are the intentions of a Bodhisattva. A glowworm, or some other luminous animal, does not think that its light could illuminate the Continent of Jambudvipa, or radiate over it. Just so, the Disciple and Pratyekabuddhas do not think that they should, after winning full enlightenment, lead all beings to Nirvana. But the sun, when it has risen, radiates its light over the whole Jambudvipa. Just so a Bodhisattva, after he has accomplished the practices which lead to the full enlightenment of Buddahood, leads countless beings to Nirvana.” Almost methodically, Gooch closed his eyes and pressed his hands together, dropping his head again.

Fred mused, “What if you don’t believe in Nirvana?”

Zakari glared as his voice dropped. “The Lord hath a controversy with the inhabitants of the land, because there is no truth, nor mercy, nor knowledge of God in the land. By swearing and lying, and killing, and stealing and committing adultery, they break out, and blood toucheth blood. Therefore shall the land mourn, and everyone that therein shall languish, with the beast of the field, and with the fowls of heaven; yea, the fishes of the sea also shall be taken away. Let no man strive, nor reprove another: for thy people are as they that strive with the priest.”

“Whoa. That’s a bit harsh… no?” asked Fred.

“Immutable principle. A Spiritual truth. Atheists are fools.” stated Gooch with a touch of Red. He lifted the lid on the pot checking for steam and added a bit more wood.

“I thought Buddhist don’t believe in ‘God’ per say?” asked Fred.

“God is just a name. Just as Divine Intelligence is just a name. It is more a question of context and classification than ideologies. The Grand Architect, the Master Builder, The Overseer, Zeus, Buddha, Jesus… whatever you want to call it. They are all names referencing a higher power. A higher intelligence. They all refer to a superior, all knowing, all powerful being. Buddhist know these entities well. The western term ‘God’ is a personification of something that cannot even be imagined by the human mind. Let alone contained in a simple three letter word.” Zakari philosophized.

Steam was rising from the tea pot as Gooch finished. He poured two servings of the dark brown liquid and passed a cup to Fred. Gooch held out his cup to toast as Fred raised his cup as well. “To healing and enlightenment. May your memories come to you. Sei cho no Iye.” Fred bowed his head respectfully and drank deeply.
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-02-25 06:06 pm

No matter what it holds?

12:10 p.m. ET Feb. 22, 2017 @

http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation-now/2017/02/22/study-people-would-rather-not-see-future-no-matter-what-holds/98246332/

Study: People would rather not see the future, no matter what it holds. by Sean Rossman

It seems — if given the option — we should choose to see what our future holds. After all, we spend much of our time trying to protect ourselves from life's unknowns.

But German and Spanish researchers find most people would rather not know what is to come, whether the imminent circumstances are good or bad.

Scientists at the Berlin-based Max Planck Institute for Human Development and the University of Granada studied more than 2,000 people in Germany and Spain and picked their brains about potential future events. The participants were asked whether they'd like to know the outcome of a soccer game they planned to watch, their future Christmas gifts and whether their marriage would end in divorce.

A majority of people would not want to be aware of future upcoming negative events, researchers discovered. And even for positive events, responders preferred ignorance.

Barely any of those studied — about 1% — always wanted to know what life had in store.

The study's lead author Gerd Gigerenzer said people don't want to know their future "to avoid the suffering and regret that knowing the future may cause and also to maintain the enjoyment of suspense that pleasurable events provide."

Your willingness to peer into the future, the research found, also can tell you a bit about your personality. Those who wished not to know the future, the study found, were "more risk-averse and more frequently buy life and legal insurance than those who want to know the future."

The study also found the closer an event was, the more likely people didn't want to know about it. People who are older, researchers said, weren't as likely to want to know the cause and date of their death or that of a loved one compared to younger people. The only part of the survey in which most people wanted to know the future is when asked whether they'd want to know the future of their unborn child. Only about 37% said they'd rather be in the dark on their baby's gender.

"Not wanting to know appears counterintuitive and may raise eyebrows," Gigerenzer said. "But deliberate ignorance, as we've shown here, doesn't just exist; it is a widespread state of mind."
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-02-23 02:20 am

Captain Beefheart & Alice In Blunderland

Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band. Alice In Blunderland
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jchMNLrvjEA

Don Van Vliet (/væn ˈvliːt/, born Don Vliet; January 15, 1941 – December 17, 2010) was an American singer, songwriter, musician and artist best known by the stage name Captain Beefheart. His musical work was conducted with a rotating ensemble of musicians called the Magic Band (1964–1982), with whom he recorded 13 studio albums. Noted for his powerful singing voice... https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Captain_Beefheart

Cpt. Beefheart Documentary:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBa8bS_vZkM
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-02-22 08:52 am

Predictive Programming

Published on Feb 15, 2017 by Polarization Nation Media

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1wwA58XHcbA

I called the historic Super Bowl tie/overtime using Unified Code Theory.
My speculation about the winner was incorrect, but the predictive media foretold the first super bowl tie and overtime in fifty one years.

Tie score was a 2-11's and an 88 code .
Half time was a 33 code - 3-12=3 and 1+2= 3 , 33
28-28 = 10+10 drop the zero-11
28+28=56=11=1+1=2
Final score 34-28
That's a 7-10, drop the zero = 7+1= LI code

I've already unpacked the Dylann(6) Storm(5) Roof(4) countdown code and it's relation to the Vince Staples rap song "Jump off the Roof" assassination, and it was referenced in Obama's farewell address hosted by the White House YouTube page. We saw some jump off the roof symbolism in the opening of Lady Gag's performance at the Halftime Show.

The escalating manufactured race divide tactics of the media can no longer be ignored. I speculated we were seeing teams representing mythological and or socio-political groups being rigged into symbolic championships that signify coming events. Although the Falcons certainly have the Masonic Hiram Abif and Egyptian Horus symbolism present all over, the pairing of the Patriots with Atlanta can also suggest white conservatives and black America.

Patriots are the white conservatives.

ATL is black America.

White over blacks could mean something with the Roof case going bad or a white on black crime - say trump supporters hit Obama, or blacks hit the White House and rednecks bring out their cache of guns ? There's a few ways they could incite those LA Riots 2.0 sparking off all over- Ferguson seemed to be a beta test of that and it worked. Now agent provocateurs are even at the pink pussy hat marches too. They're getting everybody fired up for something. The wood has been chopped and the gas has been poured; I'm now waiting for the spark.


Whitney Houston Code

Whitney E. Houston has an anagram of "White House, not NY."
We are being told the next 9-11 like event will be at the White House, not in New York City again. Her career and personal biographical data are laced with 9-11 codes as is the Oscar Winning film The Bodyguard and it's legendary soundtrack.

Whitney Houston performed at Super Bowl xxv.
-SB 25=2/5

-On 1-27-91
1-2+7-9+1
1-9-1
911

Proceeds for the Halftime Show went to American Red Cross Fulf Crisis Fund. The amount of the proceeds?
$531,650.
$531,650 = (5+3+1=9 & 6+5+0+=11)
9-11

The Bodyguard album was awarded 17x platinum on 1-11-1999.

Also, when Whitney Houston's "star spangled banner" was re-released, it was on 9-26-2001- another 911:
9, 2+6+2+0+0+1= 11
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-02-22 05:51 am

I UNDERSTAND PHILIP K. DICK

I UNDERSTAND PHILIP K. DICK

by Terence Mckenna

1991
Afterword which appeared in the book : In Pursuit of Valis: Selections from the Exegesis edited by Lawrence Sutin

____________
True stories have no beginnings and neither does the tale of PKD’s encounters with the Overmind. But we writers understand narrative economy, and for purposes of narrative economy his story seemed to him to begin with the mysterious break in and riffling of his papers that was made notorious by an article in Rolling Stone, which brought Phil long-delayed and much-deserved fame. The break-in date was 11/17/71. It was a date and a style of referring to time that Phil used frequently.

I turned twenty-five the day before. It was no casual birthday either. I met my natal day by sifting down and sincerely preparing myself for an Apocatastasis, the final Apocalyptic ingression of novelty, the implosion really, of the entire multidimensional continuum of space and time. I imagined the megamacrocosmos was going to go down the drain like water out of a bathtub as the hyperspatial vacuum fluctuation of paired particles that is our universe collided with its own ghost image after billions of years of separation. The Logos assured me that parity would be conserved, all sub-atomic particles except photons would cancel each other, and our entire universe would quietly disappear. The only particles that would remain, according to my fantastic expectation, would be photons, the universe of light would be exposed at last, set free from the iron prison of matter, freed from the awful physics that adhered to less unitary states of being. All mankind would march into the promised garden.

I felt I was well situated for the event as I, quite consciously and deliberately, and to the concern of my friends, had placed myself in the teeming, hallucinogen saturated center of the largest garden I could find, the trackless rain forest of the Upper Amazon Basin of Colombia. My confidence in my vision was unshakable. Had not the Logos itself lead me to this vision, not only by revelation but by painstaking explanation? I had no radio, no way to contact the outside world at all. Who needed that? I knew with perfect clarity that the world of time, the illusion of history was ending. Divine Parousia was entering the world, and the just, the meek and the humble were leaving their fields and factories, pushing back their chairs from their office desks and workbenches and walking out into the light of a living sun that would never set for there could be no setting for the eternal radiance of the Logos. Tears of joy streaming down their cheeks, the illumined billions were turning their eyes at last to the sky and finding there a consolation that they had never dared hope for.

However, Nixon’s weary world ignored the eschatological opportunity I thought my brother’s inspired fiddling with hyperspace had afforded. The world continued grinding forward in its usual less than merry way. There was only one small incident that might subsequently be construed, even within the framework of the schizoid logic that was my bread and butter then, to support my position. Unknown to me, a struggling, overweight SF writer, an idol of mine since my teens, discovered the next day that his house have been broken into, his privacy violated by the Other. How peculiar that on the first day of the new dispensation in my private reformist calendar, he had been burglarized by extraterterrestials the CIA or his own deranged self in an altered state. The torch had been passed, in a weird way the most intense phase of my episode of illumination/delusion ended right where Phil’s began.

This raises some questions:

Can we refer to a delusional system as a folie a' deux, if the deux participants have never met and are practically speaking, unaware of each others’ existence?

Does the delusion of one visionary ecstatic validate the delusion of another? How many deluded, or illuminated ecstatics does it take to make a reality? PKD proved that it only takes one. But two is better.

When my brother looked over the edge in the Amazon and felt the dizziness of things unsaid in March of 1971, he came back with two words bursting from his lips, "May Day! May Day!" the pilot’s call of extreme emergency.

May Day found me in Berkeley sheltered by friends so concerned about my state of mind that they considered committing me. I was only a few miles from Phil, who was rapidly going nuts too, as his psych admission of 3 May ‘71 attests. It was always like that with PKD and me. We never met but we lived around each other for years. In Berkeley, we both lived on Francisco St. within five blocks and a few years of each other. We both had roots in Sonoma County, in Orange County. How many times were we a table or two away from each other in the Cafe Med? How many times did I hurry past him on the Ave on some stoned errand? Later his homeopathic doctor was my doctor. There is a garbled mention of me (or my brother) on pg. 74 of this book.

Yah, yawn, the world is fuckin’ strange, right bro?

Wrong. Or rather, of course, sure. But that is not the point, the point is that I understand Philip K. Dick. I know that sounds like hubris and if I am wrong I am sorry (as*Phil says somewhere.)

(as* PKD lived at 1126, then a few years later and for six months I lived at 1624.)
But part of the delusional system in which I live contains and adumbrates the notion that I know what happened to the poor dude. We shared an affliction, a mania, sort of like Queequeg and Ishmael. And like one of those whale chasing sailors "I alone escaped to tell thee of it".

Phil wasn’t nuts. Phil was a vortex victim.* Schizophrenia is not a psychological disorder peculiar to human beings. Schizophrenia is not a disease at all but rather a localized traveling discontinuity of the space time matrix itself. It is like a travelling whirl-wind of radical understanding that haunts time. It haunts time in the same way that Alfred North Whitehead said that the color dove grey "haunts time like a ghost."

There is an idea that wants to be born, it has wanted to be born for a very long time.** And sometimes that longing to be born seffles on a person. For no damn good reason. Then you’re "it," you become the cheese, and the cheese stands alone. You are illuminated and maddened and lifted up by something great beyond all telling. It wants to be told. It’s just that this idea is so damn big that it can’t be told, or rather the whole of history is the telling of this idea, the stuttering rambling effort of the sons and daughters of poor old Noah to tell this blinding, reality-shattering, bowel-loosening truth. And Phil had a piece of the action, a major piece of the action.

But I anticipate myself. Those who grasp a piece of the action end up with two things on their plate; the experience and their own idiosyncratic explanation of the experience based on what they have read, seen and been told

__________
* "ZEBRA (VALIS): ‘a vortex of intelligence extending as a supra-temporal field, involving humans but not limited to them, drawing objects & processes into a coherency which it arranges into information. A FLUX of purposeful arrangement of living information, both human & extra-human, tending to grow & incorporate its environment as a unitary complex of subsumations.’"(pg. 72)

** "Okay, fertilization is what takes place: it isn’t a seed such as a plant has, but an egg such as a human woman ovulates, and cosmic spermatika fertilizes it; a zygote is produced." (pg. 22

The experience is private, personal, the best part, and ultimately unspeakable. The more you know the quieter you get. The explanation is another matter and can be attempted. In fact it must be told, for the Logos speaks and we are its tools and its voice. Phil says a lot of things in the Exegesis, he is aware that he says too much, so he keeps trying to boil it down to ten points or twelve parts or whatever. I have my own experience, equally unspeakable, and my explanation, equally prolix. Phil (sometimes) thought he was Christ,* I (sometimes) thought I was an extraterrestrial invader disguised as a meadow mushroom. What matters is the system that eventually emerges, not the fantasies concerning the source of the system. When I compare Phil’s system to mine, my hair stands on end. We were both contacted by the same unspeakable something. Two madmen dancing, not together, but the same dance anyhow.

Truth or madness, you be the judge. What is trying to be expressed is this: The world is not real. Reality is not stranger than you suppose, it is stranger than you can suppose. Time is not what you think it is.** Reality is a hologram.*** Being is a solid state matrix and psychosis is the redemptive process ne plus ultra.**** The real truth is splintered and spread throughout time.

__________
* "1 am a homoplasmate: Zebra acting in syzygy with a human." (pg. 79 but also: "Did I do something? Absolutely. But I don’t know what I did, so I don’t know who (so to speak) I am in the drama." (pg. 42.)

** "If the Logos is outside time, imprinting, then the Holy Spirit stands at the right or far or completed end of time, toward which the field-flow moves (the time flow). It receives time: the negative terminal, so to speak." (pg. 64.) See also "If there is to be immortality, there must be another kind of time: one in which past events (i.e., the past in its entirety) can be retrieved i.e., brought back. I did experience such a time." (pg. 79.)

*** "It (reality) is a hologram. 1) My augmented sense of space proves it. And 2) the information element; consisting of two parts: set and ground.

"All this points to: hologram. Based on two information-rich signals." (pp. 98-99.)
**** "The Gospels, then, depict a sacred mythic rite outside of time, rather than a historical event.

"Note: This whole process can be regarded as a psychological transformation, that of a redemptive psychosis." (pg. 95.
Appearances are a vast and interlocking lie.* To finally know the Logos truly, if that means anything, is to know it as for, as what Phil called a "unified abstract structure." In a way this was where PKD went wrong. It wasn’t his fault. He saw that the world of 1975 was a fiction and behind that fiction was the world of AD 45. But he lacked an essential concept, lacked it because it really hadn’t been invented yet. Anyhow the man was a SF writer and a scholar of classical philosophy, he could not be expected to stay in touch with arcane discoveries beginning to take place on the frontiers of research mathematics. But he got very close, his intuition was red hot when he reached the conclusion that a unified abstract structure lay behind the shifting always tricky casuistry of appearances. The concept he needed was that of fractals and fractal mathematics. The infinite regress of form built out of forms of itself built out of forms of itself * unto infinity. The principle of self similarity. Phil was right, time is not a linear river. He was right, the Empire never ended. Parallel universes is too simple a concept to encompass what is really going on. The megamacrocosmos is a system of resonances, of levels, of endlessly adumbrated fun-house reflections. PKD really was Thomas and Elijah and all the other precursive concrescences that came together to make the cat-loving fat man who compacted trash into gold. The logic of being that he sought, and largely found, was not an either-or logic but a both-and and and-and kind of logic.

_____________

* "Probably the wisest view is to say: the truth like the Self is splintered up over thousands of mile and years; bits are found here and there, then and now, and must be recollected; bits appear in the Greek naturalists, in Pythagoras, in Plato, Parmenides, in Heraclitus, Neo-Platonism, Zoroastrianism, Gnosticism, Taoism, Mani, orthodox Christianity. Judaism, Brahmanism, Buddhism, Orphism, the other mystery religions. Each religion or philosophy or philosopher contains one or more bits, but the total system interweaves it into falsity, so each as a total system must be rejected, and none is to be accepted at the expense of all the others..." (pp. 111-112)
PKD was never more right than when he wrote:

I actually had to develop a love of the disordered & puzzling, viewing reality as a vast riddle to be joyfully tackled, not in fear but with tireless fascination. What has been most needed is reality testing, & a willingness to face the possibility of self-negating experiences: i.e., real contradictions, with something being both true & not true.The enigma is alive, aware of us, & changing. It is partly created by our own minds: we alter it by perceiving it, since we are not outside it. As our views shift, it shifts. In a sense it is not there at all (acosmism). In another sense it is a vast intelligence: in another sense it is total harmonia and structure (how logically can. it be all three? Well, it is). *
One cannot learn these things. One can only be told these things. And it is the Logos that does the telling. The key is in the I Ching, which Phil loved and used but which occupies a disappointingly small fraction of his ruminations in the Exegesis.** Almost as if the counter flow, the occluding intelligence, kept Phil’s eyes diverted from the key element necessary to the universal decipherment that he was attempting. Time is a fractal, or has a fractal structure. All times, moments, months and millennia, have a pattern; the same pattern. This pattern is the structure within which, upon which, events "undergo the formality of actually occurring," as Whitehead used to say. The pattern recurs on every level. A love affair, the fall of an empire, the death agony of a protozoan, all occur within the context of this always the same but ever different pattern. All events are resonances of other events, in other parts of time, and at other scales of time.***

_____________

* (pg.91.)
** "MITHC seems to be a subtle, even delicate questioning of, what is real? As if only the 2 books in it, GRASSHOPPER & the I CHING are really the only actual reality. Strange." (pg. 181.)

*** "Through anamnesis and restoration to the Form realm you have access to several space-time continua based on your universals." (pg. 102.)

The mathematical nature of this pattern can be known.* It can be written as an equation, just like the equations of Schrodinger or Einstein.

The raw material, the Ur text, out of which this mathematical pattern can be drawn is the King Wen sequence of the I Ching. That is where the secret lies. In the world’s oldest book. Of course. Once possessed the pattern can then be discerned everywhere. Of course. It is ubiquitous. One of Phil’s favorite words. I know this because the Logos taught me the pattern and I escaped the black iron prison of the world to tell thee of it. I have published it, I have lectured it and have had it written into software. My books are on the way, some with Phil’s old publisher Bantam. I would bet dollars to donuts that if Phil had lived to see, to feel, and to understand what this PKD-inspired servant of the Logos has managed to drag home from the beach, he would embrace it. This cannot be said without sounding like a madman or a jackass. I am sorry about that. As Phil Dick said,

"What’s got to be gotten over is the false idea that hallucination is a private matter." **
What is important is that the birth of this idea is now very near, has in fact already happened, and PKD showed the way. The answer is found. And this incredible genius, this gentle, long-suffering, beauty-worshipping man showed the way. When it counted he was right. All hail Philip K. Dick.

-Terence McKenna Occidental, California
June 1991

______________

* "The agent of creation (Logos or Forms, whatever called) is at the same time the abstract structure of creation. Although normally unavailable to our cognition and perception, this structure and hence the agent of creation can be known..." (pg. 125) Also, ". this insubstantial abstract structure is reality properly conceived. But it is not God. Here, multiplicity gives way to unity, to what perhaps can be called a field. The field is self-perturbing; it initiates its own causes internally; it is not acted on from outside". (pg. 127). Also, "‘The agent of creation is its own structure’. This structure must not be confused with the multiplicity of physical objects in space and time governed by causation; the two are entirely different. (The structure is insubstantial, abstract, unitary and initiates its own causes internally, it is not physical and cannot be perceived by the human percept-system sensibly; it is known intelligibly, by what Plato called Noesis, which involves a certain ultimate high-order meta-abstracting.)" (pg. 128). And finally: "1 ... posit ontological primacy to the insubstantial abstract structure, and, moreover, I believe that it fully controls the physical spatiotemporal universe as its basis and cause." (pg. 129)
** pg.17

For information about the Philip K. Dick Society, write to:
PKDS,
P.O. Box 232517
Encinitas, CA 92023

Terence McKenna, with his brother Dennis McKenna, wrote The Invisible Landscape, 1975, reprinted by Harper San Francisco in 1992. He is also the author of The Archaic Revival: Essays and Conversations by Terence McKenna, Harper San Francisco, 1991.

Afterword copyright © 1991 by Terence McKenna

Copyright © 1991 by The Estate of Philip K. Dick
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-02-22 03:30 am

Fraternity of the Impoverished



Fred's eyebrow raised. The next clue mentioned another track by Rip the Jacker

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOO6gAsRWe4

Fraternity of the Impoverished
Knowledge this, knowledge this
The vocalist beast, knowledge like the Pope in this piece
You think the ocean is deep? Fuck with me!
Unbelievable bars, unbeatable odds
Unspeakable horrors at a unperceivable cost
Your unagreeable response lacks thought and human heart
This is Lyrical Law, it's what I make the music for
My prayers are simple, my forehead is layered with wrinkles
Because of all the hardships that I've been through
Symbolic Hip Hop prophet speak to your subconscious
French politics got the public thinking the opposite
I'm a hypo-lyrical spontaneous alchemical
Elite neo-liberal child of the indigo
Drilling holes through the Faraday cages of your brains
Then I implant the arcane image of Saint Germaine
High lyrical exponent intelligence quotient
When I'm focused I can engage multiple opponents
But I won't if, I have no motive,
"Soldier be careful, it's loaded!"
Verbose with emotions of psychosis
In case you didn't notice ,when I wrote it
I'm spitting lyrics fitting in tighter spaces than outer-space roaches
A real emcee don't have to do what he don't wanna do
And that includes freestylin' in front of you
It's not like something gone change
It's not like the whole world gone start praising my name-
I stay in my lane
I'd rather die by living brave then live like a slave
I'd rather be broke then be fake and get paid
These layers of physicality challenge me
My soul is gold and it's the only thing that's able to balance me
My energy body has a alchemical copy that looks godly
Not fat, out of shape or sloppy
The iller the rhymes the more that I embody
Vilified when real recognize real - I gets mines
Stand with the underdog - don't be a coward
Stop dickriding people for their money and power!
Even the American flag says 'Made in China'
The national debt says the US is a vagina
Of a black widow spider spraying blood out like a geyser
Why do we lose everything we fight for?
Fathers, mothers, sons, daughters
In the land of the lawless, sacrificed before Horus
The Inca, the Aztecs, the Mayans, were masters
A new beginning is coming - the irony is classic
The potential of life versus the potential of death
Either way we go through mad mental stress
God forbid for you, for her, or him
We ignored the gems now we gotta do it all again
We failed Hip Hop's laws and brought down shame upon our cause
Now we will fall upon our swords
The Shaman pays homage to Solomon
He orders them to send the witchdoctor in, then asked me to rhyme again
Every now and then I get retarded and spit
I would like to apologize to every artist I dissed
Everybody assumes that I wanna rhyme when I don't
Sometimes I just wanna chill and watch you flow
Mysteries of the cathedral, the dark overlords are evil
Ripped out the vocal cords of the people
I walk up to your bed side in disguise with red eyes
And tell you to remember these rhymes
This is the season of Hip Hop, believe it or not
I lined it up with the planet's equinox.


Bilderburgh Cold Case feat. Canibus
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLovotxfiJ0
hextraterrestrial: Hextraterrestrial (Default)
2017-02-22 03:26 am

Time after time.

Fred went on a hunch. Two other musical references had been mentioned in The Art of Yo. First was Cyndi Lauper. Fred pulled up the first return from Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdQY7BusJNU

Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,
And think of you
Caught up in circles
Confusion is nothing new
Flashback, warm nights
Almost left behind
Suitcases of memories,
Time after
Sometimes you picture me
I'm walking too far ahead
You're calling to me, I can't hear
What you've said
Then you say, go slow
I fall behind
The second hand unwinds
If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting
Time after time
If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting
Time after time
After my picture fades and darkness has
Turned to gray
Watching through windows
You're wondering if I'm okay
Secrets stolen from deep inside
The drum beats out of time