Here I am, bloggishly taking notes. A small day, rainy. The rain kinda pisses people off. Went out to the Hollins library, chilled out, headed back into town and stopped at the co-op, then came home and slept. And slept. Woke up around 8:30pm, headed down here to the coffee shop around 9. Here I sit. Two scraggly men were causing some craziness. The one kept repeating over and over, “I’m from Boston.” The other, banging on a bell, demanding service. “Get out!” they yelled at him. Outside, he walked past my window, licked his finger and drew an X on the window in front of me and flipped me the bird. No big deal. Still, they called the cops—who came in 20 minutes late. “Bad timing,” someone yelled. Some friends are standing out in the rain, talking. I’m quiet, experiencing some depression. It’s quite possible the weather is the culprit. Rudra put a good slice down my cuticle; it looks like a red pen mark.

I have notes flying around in my head. The mind is powerful, more than we know. Beyond that, I have very little to say. I’m looking into it. I’ve ordered various birthday books for myself. More and more resources are becoming available to us, but that drive, motivation, that inspiration, is needed. This alone can go out and get those resources if need be. One of my understandings of CM is that it is entirely outside the realm of any sort of religious belief system (B.S.). Yet beliefs and ritual play a big part in the mind’s creation of external events and even the conjuring of entities out of thin air. That is, belief in someone who did not exist even five minutes ago. I’ve read that you can create such a being so that it does your bidding, and if it ever turns on you in any sort of way, you can erase it. A few years ago I would have thought this a lot of silliness, but I’m quite curious of it all now.

I mention this sort of thing in my new book I’m working on. The past is in the past. A big part of putting the past down and moving on is to verbalize it. C. and I talk a lot about how we spent so much time in the KC movement, perhaps too much time, and what it has done to our psyche. It’s pissed us off, for one thing. And there’s some of it that makes us laugh. (Laugh to keep from crying…) “I feel disappointed in myself for having been a part of all that.”

Woke up from my nap thinking: these titles we have for ourselves should be fun. If anything, you wanna hear more from me my ideas than … “I’m a writer, I’m an anarchist, I’m an avid comic book reader.” You’d much rather have a plot thrown at you.

Received my second bird of the evening. Out he goes, again!

So, where is my concentration going? Meditation. Patience. Quantum physics. Motion. Sunlight. Magic of/in being. Mung bean. Pub. Publication. I have adopted “maybe logic” as of yesterday, though it’s been in my blood. In the night, I had, or started to have, an out of body experience (OBE). It’s the strangest fucking feeling in the world. Whatever it is, it’s scary. It’s like this feeling that you’re being pulled up and out, and this time I was thinking, “Just go with it.” Couldn’t remember what happened next. It happened right before I went into full sleep and it felt like it didn’t completely kick in. Perhaps this is just something that happens right before you go into one of the levels of deep sleep.

Was reading about how you can directly induce this by sexual arousal, but avoiding the physical climax. Something about that sexual charge while at the same time being drowsy and then falling asleep is supposed to stimulate OBE.

Now I’m wrapping up my time here. Warping it.

he puts a spear through a fish
she puts a fish on her bumper
reminds her of something else
we shall have
fun with our symbols
all through a life
bounce bounce
king of the ring tones
classic rock
slow cops
cyclops
uncomfortable cots
small tots
and so on

the coffee could be
better

lamb bleats

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