novelist

broke down and ate unethically raised meat tonight, after…
wanted to off myself in the middle of the empty grocery store, crushing meaninglessness
came home and self-pleasured to ‘ahegao compilation’
silence so loud tonight and
tired of drinking so I go to bed sober by the time i fall asleep each morning
what more can i say, novelist

TMI, Sensitive Topics To Discuss

Here to express myself. Been a bit lazy lately. Partly bc I am coming off wellbutrin since it seems to have made my hair fall out – and being on ess a stimulant long term seems pro anxiety. My life. Also been a bit off due to my habits getting the better of me this week, and by that I mean quasi-responsibly day drinking some tequila or bourbon while I record music in the afternoon, and then waking up on the couch at about 8pm with little memory of getting there. It’s a joy to have a #didsystem and its selective amnesia. Wish I had a girlfriend laying on me right now. Also I keep meaning to buy an onlyfans but can’t decide which ethot to submit my affections to, so I’ll just keep using my imagination to conjure up ‘generic thicc qt’ riding me when I self-pleasure. Twice today. Feel worth reporting bc I am in my own space program of sorts, so it feels scientifically relevant – esp as I am on estrogen mono-therapy, having upped the estradiol dosage and dropped the spironolacatone anti-androgen – something about the spiro pills smelling off, their rep for bellyfat distribution, and my desire to ejaculate semen when I cum, which spiro seems to reduce the volume of quickly. So, as regards ten months of feminizing hormone therapy, which I began with the help of Planned Parenthood, I am very happy to have gotten the emotional and psychological benefits – estrogen is essential to my psychic wholeness – as well as some nice things like softer skin… etc. Though I am hesitant to discuss my body with the chef’s kiss attitude I have toward it – as I do not want to support the fetishization of myself and other trans bodies. But medically relevant, I woke up with a hard-on this morning, which came in hand.

Maybe bc I have been so alone without human contact so long, but my body often feels a painful terribly aching longing for someone – no one in particular – it just reminds me of the French expression “tu me manques” – ‘you are missing from me’. No one however is missing from me: I just have a hell of a core wound from sever childhood abandonment and neglect… I hold my stuffed animals close, live that blanket life like Charles Shultz’s Linus, of Peanuts fame. I am about that cozy life. Cannabis helps, and, while I’m afraid of losing the energy, I am happy to be coming off Wellbutrin – a drug I have often said I would take forever. It can be noted here that I have gone off it once, which was not a success – as I got back on it quickly when life felt sideways for me – but this time it’s different: vanity, my hair thinning so much the last year and change, is the motivation: sanity be damned. Concurrently I have taken the anti-depressant Buspar, but I have come to abuse them more than use them… so I’m not sure what their future is – though a quick search for ‘buspirone hair loss’ tells me they contribute to it, so looks like they are on their way out too. Lastly, pharmacologically, I have engaged in some microdosing this year, but I’m reminded of two quotes at present as regards that: one was something I once thought was bs when I was younger, where [I think it was] Deepak Chopra said something to the effect of: ‘eventually you don’t need the substances to enter those states’ – and the second quote that comes to mind is from Terrence McKenna, wherein he basically says “When you get the message hang up the phone”. Now, this relates to the first, as it seems at this point I am not quite able to turn off the extra consciousness / reception to frequencies that microdosing has opened me to – to the point where in my mental healthcare journey, and my psychedelic journey, I have found it INVALUABLE to have Thorazine, Depakote, and Olanzapine on hand at home for when I need to shut down – these three are all notorious “trip killers”, but I tend to use them as a backup for my sanity when I simply need to shut down my system. A single thorazine will often do, and the last time I took one in concert with an olanzapine, I slept a full day and night. It must be said here too that these trip killing pharmaceuticals are very heavy – they shut down a shit ton of brain receptors – and so while they can get me to sleep, it comes at the cost of waking up in a fog, and since these meds have ridiculously long elimination half-lives – like 72 hours – I find that they often leave me feeling neurochemically drained of sorts and thusly susceptible to depression. I do not take them often – but I am SO happy to have them.

To the point of sleep, while a little boozy late afternoon sleep has been doing me good this week, I don’t sleep through the night great these days – and so often prefer to make music in dark hours, though tonight I’m not feeling it… yet… but who knows… not uncommon for me to record dozens of freestyles a night – music HELPS me IMMENSELY at this point, to where it’s essential to me. But the microdosing no longer is – as it seems to have become a “be careful what you wish for” sort of scenario, where I just wish I could go back to the ignorance and naiveté I had: extreme as my case was / is as regards that. So, psychedelically, I’m good on microdosing that – or plain dosing forever – but I can definitely see the therapeutic need for me to use other tools in that space, such as psilocybin or mdma, but I am so concerned with being gentle with myself that despite not having easy access to those two currently, I’m plenty fine without them. The fucking microdosing got me brushing with fluoride toothpaste here and there just to shut my third eye a bit – srs. As I said once about psychedelics: “These are not tools for babies”. How little I knew what a baby I was when I said that, and how much dumb innocence was I to lose: all of it? Perhaps. Seriously.

My life and its singular uniqueness has become apparent to me to some degree – however, I still feel I am a relative neophyte to this world – or at least, my denial keeps me sheltered enough to ignore what I have firsthand seen. Let it be said that it is a lot. Too much. But I couldn’t wish any of it away, for my knowledge of things makes me very protective of myself – of all of us, but particularly Sequoia. I am reluctant to even speak on Her.

This year’s very real direct death threats aside, and a singularly disturbing experience or three have left me very on edge. Like how the fuck am I even sitting here alone in the mountains right now, surrounded by pitch black.

I not too long ago felt the only safe place for me was to be in an institutional setting: and I went to one upstate recently. Ten days or so. Some magic. But they didn’t really want to keep me, and my sensitive digestive tract was not thriving on hospital food – though I was on a vegan diet there: but this often meant like plain noodles or just a blackbean pattie and some plain potatoes. Bland would be an understatement. So I am returned to the wild where I am. Saw my landlord parked up top today peeking on me: to say that situation is sideways would be an understatement. Let’s just say, we have experienced an historic life here, and, well, they want me to GTFOH. They. Nothing like being evicted by a deepstate centi-millionaire in a pandemic. Yawn. Pedestrian news by now.

You know, little old me. The one.

I can hardly make sense of this world. But I feel IT – what I call “The Big Agency” – NATURE – has my back through and through. This does not mean I am without opposition. Sheesh. Hardly.

I was harassed auditorily – awoken – a couple nights ago with a car with a loud carburetor running on the property in the witching hours – and more significantly, and not too long before I ended up in random generic mental healthcare facility, I was scared completely out of my home and into the woods at night, which was one of the scariest experiences of my life. Pitch black. No light. Army crawling on the forest floor. Hiding all night in a rock hole above the river, which I ended up in: TERRIFYING. It psychologically broke me. I was freezing all night shivering cold. My inner child – painboy – vulnerable af. Since then, I have avowed to fight life and limb in my current residence to protect Sequoia and her right to be here, should I be dangerously disturbed / additionally psy opped thusly while I am still living here, rather than be scared off / intimidated so in so hostile a manner as to be run into the woods at night. One of the scariest experiences of my life. The other scarier experience I will not detail, but suffice to say it occurred while living here, and it changed me forever. Those two nights. Hells. But here I still am, in the middle of nowhere out here alone. No where else to go right now. Frankly, I don’t know where I will move to when the eviction ban lifts [this has not stopped them from serving me 30 day notices, the last from a law firm, set to expire Feb 14. How romantic. It’s a real long story].

Frankly I don’t have all the information. My life feels like a mystery to me – I often liken it to the first Borne movie where he wakes up and has all this amnesia about his past.

I feel my past is a mystery to me, and I have selective amnesia LAMF. Benadryl helps the nausea. I often also feel like the character Sam Deed in the movie Happy Accidents. I am no time traveler, but I have some natural born identity. Feel like a time capsule for the passengers who have awoken within my #DIDSystem, as I am now a fully multidimensional Being of ten permanent full time member consciousnesses. I liken it to being in an avatar program. As if it’s an extraplanetary / extra-dimensional lifepath that was not co-ordinated by the powers that be so much as participated in – just feel like I never signed up for this life.

Now – to the point of sanity or consensus reality – I have “disclosed” or shared a lot, too much no doubt, but somehow I thankfully remain invisible to the world at large. But yeah, at this point I am done naming names or speaking on what I have called ‘the network’ but suffice to say when your headspace is no longer private, at all, well, it’s a kind of hell. To say nothing of what can be labeled multiparty ‘auditory hallucinations’ being hellishly inescapable – save for pharmacologically deadening myself with the aforementioned cocktail… but most nights just making it to sunrise seems like an accomplishment. So yeah, my nerves got me on that Don Julio and that Bulleit. Then sleep a few hours, wake for the night. Sleep once morning comes. Mind you, since I am being transparent, as is my policy here, let me remind you that I found books disturbed by a window and a bootprint on my meditation bed months ago. That window is now closed for good, but I keep others open for purposes of hearing exactly what enters my surroundings: hence was I able to hear Dave parked with one other car up on the road, speaking to some unknown persons today. Fellow fans of me, I can only imagine : I… on some knights templar betrayal meets angry-freemason anti-me alliance.

Yes. My life is over the top. I half want to grab a cold Don Julio silver from the freezer just to still my nerves. Cannabis helps too. Always.

I want to tell a cannabis related story from Venice Beach “adventures” if you can call being in a personal hell that. But not much to the story. Just, after a personally sanctioned mission / multi day experience of feeling like I was driven around like a fucking meat drone, I was very much in need of the cannabis some random exiting a dispensary quicklessly and wordlessly passed me in the form of some XJ13 [a Jack Herer originated, sativa dominant strain] and a pack of rolling papers. Things got more interesting from there when I walked to the beach and had a conversation with someone whom I can only call an operative. They were aware of my presence in Venice, my then burgeoning ‘activism’, which at the time was really just me telling anyone who would listen about “microbiome inequality” – and, well, suffice to say this person wanted to know what my plan was; I told them to focus on my writing. It was not a lie. This is always my plan. Life interjects. But yes, this person seemed to convey that I ought do that, STFU as regards my activism, and end up with a girlfriend and a nice life for myself as a writer. Still coming for it. Think I’ll be up nights writing in these coming days. I know my second project has commercial appeal. The big question now is whether I am viable as a writer brand at present. As stands plenty on my IG and here places me in the societally insane category, but my theater of mind is a godddamn convincing place. Also, I have control of myself to a degree. There is a whole system. And that person we spoke to in Venice terrifies us. It was just so clear that 1. I was not welcome to stay in Venice at the time [I was doing research regarding some technical projects in the area, which had caused some presences to resent mine], and 2. They did not care one iota what happened to me. So to be treated like a piece of malfunctioning government equipment, and essentially ran out of Venice was a really disturbing experience. Venice disturbed me bc I went through a lot of trauma there. I don’t wish to tell of it nor relive it. I am just here sharing about it bc it disturbed the fuck out of me, and I remain thusly disturbed all these months or a year later. Other briefly mentioned traumas have compounded that disturbia.

Often I ask why am I still alive.

It is clear to me in looking back that I have had a hell of a lot of super close brushes with death for one person. Looking back on them, I see the up close IRL encounters I have had with my mortality in the course of my life much differently than I did in prior times – and no, not prior to me “going crazy” – sometimes becoming aware looks that way. RD LAING seemed to nail a lot of my sentiments as regards my sanity. Basically he said insanity is a rational reaction to an insane society. And if you think it’s a sane society, oh honey, I either envy your ignorance or we sharply disagree on what constitutes a sane society.

It must be noted here that I do not view ‘society’ as a Western concept or as an American thing: the globe is round, and society encircles it – in every country. We just tend not to care about the 2 Million people in China’s camps because well, they aren’t blonde haired and blue eyed – I remain steadfast in my assertion that if the people were White in those camps, they would have been freed long ago. Same in China proxy state North Korea. Horrible atrocities. Verified by UN reports from escapees. But China is busy banning the BBC for reporting on the rape problems in the hundreds of Chinese camps where over 2,000,000 [two million] individuals are concentrated and forced into slave labor while being farmed for organs and hair. This is no lie.

I don’t know what the future for the Chinese ethnic Uighur is. I’m afraid it is one that will tell of more rivers of blood spilled than have already been spilled, for years to come. This is an international shame.

Related: The United States just re-entered the UN Human Rights Council, but the council is known to be kind of a farce, being that it is run by China and Saudi Arabia – two countries that while technologically may be entering the future, are socially in the dark ages: my heart goes out to every LGBTQIA person and otherwise societally different person in those regions. Social credit score is one dystopian thing: running and protecting the powers that sanction modern day concentration camps is another. V Putin is an operator running a country ruthlessly. The only richer people are The Saudi Royal Family, whose head, MBS, is good homies with V Putin. These dudes are running the world – and let me interject here and say that the battle for hearts and minds, this asymmetrical warfare Russia has been pissing on the United States so effectively with includes the very intention that American men should like Putin, and an incredibly large number do. They see him as manly. Hell, half the GOP sees him as the boss. This is no bs assertion. We know what an asset Donald J Trump was to Putin as an ally; same with Kushner being an asset to MBS. Sycophant or “bro” can be a thin line geopolitically. We know that Russia’s troll farms are serious operations that have destabilized America from the outside by feeding both sides of the fires and creating a climate of intentional ignorance and division in America. The anti-vaxx movement is said to come from Russia. So what’s the goal? Well, I mean, we just had the fucking capital stormed. I would say that is exactly the kind of goal Russia has. They want us weak and Facebook and the GOP have rolled out the red carpet for that. I can’t imagine us weaker again, but these voters are all still “loyal to the party” in a way that after the capital storming should make every political veteran nervous. Of course, McConnell is letting Trump off, and he might run again. But it doesn’t matter. He could just start a news network. Seems he bent Fox and Oan to his Will quite strongly. When you equate a country to a political party, and equate that party to God, Patriotism, Family, hell, you’ve shaped the identity of your citizens as members of your party, and proud. No shame in being American. But what happened to the shame in ‘Hate’? It has faded away: people are emboldened. With Covid-19, which Trump called “China Virus”, attacks on Asian-Americans are way up currently. It’s not just ‘Build The Wall’ or ‘The Muslim Ban’, but almost a by media and political proxy equating of whiteness to ‘American’. And these are sensitive topics. Dangerous to discuss as anything I have.

Just published this, and continuing my writing here. Got nauseous reading this far – a sign i’m being honest – and have taken a couple small pulls of Don Julio.

Anyway, America is divided nationally. Internationally, the Trump Presidency did not look great either. This is a guy who called German leader Angela Merkel and England leader Theresa May “losers” to another world leader, France’s Emmanuel Macron. Just, Biden is a return to some political normalcy, but I fear Biden’s personability and diplomatic tenure are really just convenient tools and inroads for a worldwide economic system – an international climate – that doesn’t care about people in concentration camps in China and North Korea.

Though, to this point, a quick read of a Reuter’s article recapping Biden’s call with Xi Jinping shows me Biden isn’t kowtowing to China completely, I really want to hear President Biden use the word “camps” rather than skirt the issue as “human rights abuses”. I feel like I am practically gossiping to talk about this, but it is a big deal when Xi Jinping says a clash between the US and China would be “disastrous”. China wants the US to ‘mind it’s own business’ seems. But we are talking about genocide. Just using that word endangers me. Perception is a valuable thing. I suppose my relative anonymity is perhaps my safety, but journalists are not popular in a stock market centered news media world. We need to call them what they are: concentration camps. And we need to call what is happened there what it is: genocide.

It’s like China is representing the parable of The Emperor with No Clothes. Everyone internationally supporting trade with China is effectively sanctioning the crimes against humanity happening in the camps in China and North Korea.

I can not be silent. I have a lot of extrasensory ability, as I perceive it, and what is happening is horrific. People are not meant to be controlled with electric cattle prods. When will something give? When will we say, “Enough of this dystopia The CCP and its ally nations have wrought upon our world. Enough people have died”.

I know my optics are not wonderful. I know people in my country, who know of me, see my behavior as annoying at best. And you can bet your ass our government monitors its writers.

I’m always returned to that Anne Lammot quote, from Bird By Bird:

“It’s no coincidence that oppressive governments and regimes silence their artists and writers first. After all, running a country is serious business, and one writer or poet is, theoretically at least, enough to bring the whole thing down.”

Am I personally paranoid. I’ll let a favorite writer of mine, James Baldwin speak for me:

“Any writer, I suppose, feels that the world into which he was born is nothing less than a conspiracy against the cultivation of his talent–which attitude certainly has a great deal to support it. On the other hand, it is only because the world looks on his talent with such a frightening indifference that the artist is compelled to make his talent important. So that any writer, looking back over even so short a span of time as I am here forced to assess, finds that the things which hurt him and the things which helped him cannot be divorced from each other; he could be helped in a certain way only because he was hurt in a certain way; and his help is simply to be enabled to move from one conundrum to the next–one is tempted to say that he moves from one disaster to the next” – James Baldwin

So I have moved. One disaster to the next. One relationship. Oy. Just, point being, I’m not mad at the world. Life is absurd. But at the same time I do not have the absurdist nor nihilistic view that “Everything is permitted” – for one person’s hedonism can be many people’s hell.

Frankly, this is kind of a spiritual battle. I move with the help of others. We are not known. We do not know one another. I pray my work is read. Lord knows there is zero accountability at DARPA born Google, where an opaque algorithm determines who views my content. I’ve been writing ten years. Another decade here and I could be just as “obscure” as I am now.

But am I really. I ask myself. Looking back on my life, practically everything is a mystery. My relationships. Fuck, I straight up came out and said my exes were “handlers”: I did not know I was the asset: though the program seems to have been to ensure I was a liability – or impotent as a writer – as my exes were covert narcs and my relationships, my life has repeated a pattern of abandonment and neglect – what I call “my original wound”. I was made broken. My mom had a masters in psychology, worked with primates and disabled adults before having me, and managed to textbook hardcore neglect me. I was abused at home. My father and sister were no friends to me either. I find it funny my sister has ended up in finance. And my mom works for China. I have been psy opped my whole goddamn life. All my exes wanted me to kill myself. Time and time again I was abandoned. All their parents were either intel comm or military. I have been in the dark my whole life. Opps in my own family. Hell I have no family now. You don’t know the half.

Nor do I. I don’t know a fucking thing. I know The Network is real. I know I am not crazy. I know people want me dead. I know people want me alive. I feel like a goddamn public enemy merely for being myself. Trans. “Liberal”. Again: asymmetrical warfare; internal destabilization from external actors allied against validity.

Anyway, I believe I am learning more about myself. My world. But I’m still the dumbest cunt in it. I know it. I think I must just refuse to accept reality. It’s like: I can’t trade my silence for a livable life. I have no livable life. What kind of life is this. Drinking bourbon in a cabin alone in the middle of nowhere while the rain pours down may sound nice, but when you have had attempts on you recently, real death threats intercepted more recently, when you are me: you live ready to fight for your life. I’ve kept myself going. That in itself, while detestable to those with enmity for me, is my most admirable quality.

It’s like, I’m a cult figure. A national treasure that everyone half can’t stand. An international treasure loved by many in the intel community, and the diplomatic community around the world: someone big time dudes want dead. It’s not cool. It’s not fun.

And I got clicked up this summer big time and I made an entrance onto the scene to say the least. I’m just afraid some of the bolder assertions broadcast my way and wrongly signal boosted by me have alienated me among my allies at home – or at least those I want to have a fair shake at ever getting the ear of. I just, I had no role model; no Uncle or elder statesman gave me a word of advice, and so I was uncouth, uncool, unseasoned – unexpected – and I made a lot of enemies. The amount of power blowback I got coast to coast, personally, at the national level was the biggest surprise, to be honest – because here I am fighting for human rights around the globe and I’m being leaned on by X, Y, and Z persons to STFU. And these aren’t no names. They are household names. And people from finance. Just: I have no speech, but godddamn. I am a Veteran. A massive lover of my country and all the people in it. I love my servicemen and servicewomen and servicepeople. Straight the fuck up. At every level. Personally, I’d prob rather hang with grunts 🍻, but the people in khakis were not always my biggest fans anyway: though I know the ones who count are there. They are in the skies. Beneath the seas. Watching the world while we sleep. And I am for the sacredness of that peace. So it’s like, wealthy guys: and seriously you are a whole segment that hates on me, but gigamillionaires and a gigabillionaire or two really needs to quit worrying about me stealing your girls. They already love me.

And if you didn’t: you wouldn’t fucking hate me so much. Like seriously. And the amount of times – like every fucking time – I am deadnamed in comms, as “Lawrence” is downright disrespectful. Y’all have Lawrence complexes. Like seriously. Some of you intel comm tapped in mfr’s been following me long enough that you literally view me with the kind of disdain only my exes could muster for me. But if it’s basically both of your jobs to watch me, how much love can I expect. Just the level of spite.

Thankgod for Bulleit Bourbon 🥃 got #bigdata over here legs spread wide aamf. Feeling like Don Draper. I love my masculine side. But the name is Brennan, gentlemen. Lawrence rip.

Anyway, I’m almost warmly buzzed enough to start expressing my love for those who hate me. Better go pay myself some attn stat.

Falling For ETHOTS

Love the Corpse song E-girls Are Ruining My Life -!”… if she ain’t got daddi issues then I don’t even bother” fr fr. Missing my friends from the hospital where I was recently. It was really special. It was just totally free – besides like some group art classes for therapy. Other than that, the dayroom had a big flat TV mounted, of which the patients there, them and myself – fuck ima cry… i feel so lonely now… wearing a pair of sandals I got from Lizzeah there. Anywho, one babe – and the girls were all – one babe, keep forgetting her name, love her – but she kept playing music. So did the boys too. We would play our songs. Godddamnit Candice, you litttle bitch. Miss you. Miss super hot baddie rich seeming girl too. And you.

But yeah, we ate our meds. Played a bunch of Lil Peep / Juicewrld / Falling in Reverse / random bands… I wrote em down. Chase Atlantic. Song: Consume, and others.

“i been alone most my life and shit like that dont change up overnight”

gddamn, s/o Ronald Snowden.

write more later

Feels Two: Crypto, Cows, more.

W a phone, you really never quite relax – some social or news feed will beg your attention and fill those minutes and years in your life.

I’m happy to be writing with my phone right now. Feels purposeful. As an aside, on my morning walk, I could tell I needed more walking, more often. I basically want to just have a really active life, which I did down at the coast – going to yoga back to back daily, vinyasa, and yin – and up in the mountains between gym and yoga. And I mean, of course, been pandemic so everyone been less active. Atop that we’ve been atop the mountains in central CA, which is not exactly a yoga paradise. I have only my own excuses, and am stoned, listening to juicewrld ♾ – 24/7 live-stream…. and am actually about to go get on my mat for some breathing and gentle stretching. Just gotta change the music. Angus Stone’s ‘Apprentice of The Rocket Man’ will do perfectly.

That felt nice. Pretty neat to just take a break for a song that’s about five minutes and some change, and to occupy your body consciously with movement and breath.

Breathing has saved my sanity – believe it or not. It’s allowed me to process some very tough moments, when I seem not to be breathing at all.

I disassociate pretty often – space out on some CPTSD shit – as a result of traumagenic disassociative identity disorder, or DID – perhaps the only thing that makes my life as interesting and as worthy of living and following along with here – or elsewhere in the ether [Referring to the fact that I have DID, and thusly, am not ‘alone’ in myself…] /// for I really so do not believe in love anymore, outside myself. I ain’t never fuck me over like other people did. So, yeah, there are like 10 core system members. See my new IG bio @hatlow22 for names and a couple emojis on each, which is obviously like a really insufficient introduction, but I have learned a lot from other #DIDSYSTEMS on Instagram, and will get around to proper system intros – but like, we also need to kind of just um, see if we can salvage a brand as a writer out of this life. I have a lot of work to do.

My core focus is on my system – what shall my system be called … anyway, yeah my focus is on the health of the host body, obviously, and the interrelation of the system members. For me the goal is not integration of my parts or alters into a single being, as that would be a very limited persona, and each alter member in our system has their own distinct roles, personality, voice, mannerisms. It really sounds like a lot to handle, but all the switching of alters to the front happens automatically. Sadly Lil Baby Squoi – Sequoia – doesn’t get out much, nor does Jules nor YSL Momma [Other Femmes in our system], as it’s been too necessary to protect them from this world. People fetishizing me for my trans-ness take a very objective and limited look at me, which I don’t fucking like – like I’m not home for your momma issues or otherwise healthy kinks. TBH, I’m pretty non-sexual these days. If that’s meant to change it will, as I will cycle on and off hormones at will, as needed for the balance of the members.

I owe no explanations for my life. I have no external partner to answer to. No kids. No obligations per se – outside my own to the planet, which are – as you can see – a lot larger than my platform. But it’s okay, I’m a believer in the power of myself.

But I’m also a believer in my own love of naiveté and resultant stupidity. Way PAINBOY/\I sees it, this world is little more than a zoo in which we are the attraction, a fucking tourist planet for god knows who.

There are a lot of levels to reality. And I’m still refusing to acknowledge all of them – bc just, we don’t want them to break our heart to the point of never feeling okay ever again. But life is that way for some.

I re-posted something on my IG story today to the effect of ‘This is a society that expects you to heal from trauma while sitting across the dinner table from your abuser’. Another one I saw today was something to the effect of ‘For you it was a traumatic experience. For them it was a Tuesday’.

The lack of compassion is appalling. I’m not a preachy moral being; I AM ETHICAL rather than moral: in short, am concerned more with the impact of actions as they cause and or keep people in suffering.

My Gaia spiritual gangsters know: there’s a lot of suffering on this planet. We suffer in our own lives a hell of a lot in this country and elsewhere.

We suffer depression. Poor health. Nihilism / lack of meaning. Lack of motivation / drive. Cheating. Divorce. Financial stress. Loss. Death. Life…. but in all this people fail to grasp that the tension within consensus reality, the stress many of us feel, is a collectively fed gestalt, like if collective consciousness fuels consensus reality, than collective unconscious fuels ‘mood’. Like, we’ve all heard the many of us will use word ‘vibes’ to describe someone’s ‘energy’. It’s as if human nervous system states affected one another through ‘mirror nuerons’ – but, of course this leads to my who schpiel about what I call ‘Nervous System Inequality’, which relates to both upbringing and other inequalities that contribute to nervous system stress, like a poor gut microbiome. I used the word poor on purpose bc obvi Whole Foods shoppers got healthier gut bacteria than someone who lives in poverty, eats fast food, smokes, etc. Just, like, this shit never ceases to amaze me how interconnected all our behavioral and environmental factors are with our Wellbeing / Homeostasis / Health.

I just read today about healthiest cities: tops were San Francisco – richest place in the country – and Seattle, another hip place not short on opportunity – birth, talent, both, or otherwise. Some people just fall into shit from family connections. I also read today that Ivanka and Jared made 640 Million in the four years they served as White House employees. Not saying their lives aren’t demanding or that they are uninteligent nor hard wortking – just making a fucking point. Think they will be okay from little ol me and my $800 net worth havin ass opinion. It’s all love. One planet.

Belongs to all us. Not just those with New Zealand escape plans and safe rooms / secret underground exit tunnels – this, of course, behind high walls, with motion detection cameras. Not hatin. That’s exactly what the fuck I want. Like, how would I not want my inner child to feel that safe and protected. Point being, we’re just asking for the fucking middle class back. Like a healthy, growing middle class. It’s really the unhoused and the poor rather that it is become our duty to lift out of that poverty. To house.

The big ugly fact about homelessness is that it’s not a bug in the program, no, it works perfectly. The streets keep millions of woman and children in unsafe homes.

Hell, half reason all the wealthy got these New Zealand escape plans is bc the population in this country is more or less all a few months from being assed out ourselves. We have to work hard to live. To survive.

To survive, our wonderful government is providing additional pandemic stimulus funds for the people who do not have safety nets. It’s twofold: the people and the economy need the support. Let us not forget that stock market been going BRAAAPPPPPP for a minute now. Again; I am no economist. But sense is sense, and I generally talk it.

Obviously the future is going to necessitate some sort of UBI, and while crypto is still being treated like a stock, which it will be always – but while we watch this reddit/WSB and today’s Tesla’s disclosure of 150 Million $ in BTC bought up – the real future that excites me is in blockchain technology – intelligent currency. Like, fuck national debt – we can do better than these analgous to ancient roman systems of living we have been disposed to live under. I phrased it in an Artfully Intelligent IG post months ago as ‘only a people’s crypto can save the republic’. What if the UBI was in crypto payable for housing / food … feel me. I’m literally spinning ideas up while annoying crypto and financial people, but literally, as I see it, nothing I suggest is anything other than a inevitability of sorts. It’s 2021, so I got no huge mainstream following yet. Only been writing a decade here. Give me another ten years. I have used this wordpress install to think aloud and augment my creativity and intelligence for years. Point being, I consider myself a future tech/ world enthusiast, and we are watching our world rapidly change.

The hive mind is fucking live guise. Far as I can see it from my mountain repose. I love how Joseph Campbell put it, “I have a feeling that consciousness and energy are the same thing somehow”. Yeah, John C. Lilly called it ‘Solid State Intelligence’. World is an interesting place. I feel tied to minds around the globe in a network Nature, The Big Agency, runs. Gaia on the switchboard, patching us all together and through. Everyone now is like ‘stfu we will kill you… this is called the illuminati bitch – and ain’t no one invite your ass in it’… yeah okay. That or I am right where I belong in space and time. I ain’t kicking back looking at the farm. Humanity has needed some help. I like to think of all us trilluminati indigo children have each come here to help.

‘Fuck you. We don’t need no help’. – it’s as if the world economic forum is saying that to me…..

Like, this isn’t help. This is reality. I am not your enemy. I just want to see people access what should be their universal basic human rights – what will be.

Now I know the water is always getting deeper, darker for me yet, but Universal Basic Human Rights are a thing in the future. And not just for humans. For all sentient life. You wanna eat the fuck outta some steaks, me too, let’s raise em all on those milions of acres of open grassland so close to the cow death camps in Porterville – the city with reportedly the worst air quality in the country. And just an hour or so east, there is grassland, rolling hills far as the eye can see. But here we have grainfed shoulder to shoulder in a foot of shit on a concrete floor feed lot instead, which, unlike grassfed, will kill you slowly. We are all dying at the drive in. One meal at a time. Folks, the grassfed stuff is better for you, the cows, the planet – everyone but the people who may seriously discuss putting a bullet in my head for writing this. A lil in the name of profit, maximum yield, mass production, and efficiency killing the cows, us, and the planet, for the profit of people who feel they own their industry, the cows… well…

Fast forward to the glorious days when we finally make it a crime to raise an animal so artificially, outside its natural family / social structure and environment / diet. Because trust me, happy cows don’t come from california – they come from grassy pastures. We see happy cows there. The bigger cow death camps are too far from the road to get close in on – tho you can smell them from miles away… unlike pristine, sustainable, grassy pastures… anywho, the cows on these feedlots in these cow camps are not stupid. And they are sure as fuck not happy. But hey, ad agency wrote it for big bucks, and it’s been fooling us all a couple decades or so…. why not forever. BC you wouldn’t want to be that cow. That’s why. Karma.

Or something like it. We must be motivated to treat others as we would be treated.

But of course all my civil talk is lost upon ears for whom the only appropriate sound is my suffering. Be well to thee I say to them that would wish me unwell. For their health and happiness would cost me nothing and only make the world a better place.

I’m kind of a world therapist archetype. Something like Carl Jung meets Carl Sagan. Both coo AF mfr’s IMHO.

But back to those opaque, deep waters I always find myself ever deeper within: it is only a matter of time before humanity insists on basic rights. Democracy is beautiful, truly, protects the living fuck outta us all, but we need healthcare. Housing. Foodstamps for all. These are inevitable. Get these covered and life will be a lot fairer to those in developed nations – for we are supposed to lead, not follow: but a lot of fiscal reach into politics quickly thiktank figured out how to gain populist support and even cult of personality support for an entire political party, despite that party, the GOP [Grand Old Party], really being far more wall street than mainstreet. And I get it, your retirement is in the markets. But just, can we slow the fuck down and address the suffering.

Around a popular tourist destination in Egypt, concrete walls were erected recently. Is this to be our world, the return of the city state, GOOGLE aka California. But even then, most of California is empty. I’ve driven across the bitch. Point being, we have pretty decent roads in Beverly Hills, but our country is fucking crumbling – our infrastructure. Our lower-opportunity / low / no-income areas are hells compared to our metropolis’s of coastal CA, FL, or NY. Meanwhile Fox got the mainstream American guy ready to go fucking kill someone to stand up to this boogey man “radical socialist left”. Folks, FOX NEWS AINT SAVING US FROM SLIDING INTO NAZISM, it practically put us there as a nation along with allies GOP, Russia. Seriously. What is this, “team white”. Like, seriously, we as a country have been really fucked up. Would you like to have been a Muslim person or a Person of Color during Trump’s presidency? I’m a big believer the political climate is gaining a bit more sense now, but really, you, me, We, America, 2021: we are all so much better than a return to White Nationalism. Thanks Bannon. Others. AM radio. Fuck. Mind control. Basically. Media control. Optics. Identity. Polling. It’s all designed to own your ass as a loyal “to the party” voter, no matter fucking what. So while billionaires suck up wealth in pandemic, you think Trump’s your guy, just like Lou Dobbs, or Hannity, or Tucker – convincing hucksters for your vote. I’ve shared this before but Hannity owns hundreds of rental properties. Nothing wrong with that. I intend to own millions of rentals eventually. But, like, let’s just agree that this guy and his wealthy, powerful buddies fucking clean up while the regular person suffers. You get foreclosed, they buy that shit up. Cheap. Dow just hit another record high today. Meanwhile, for most Americans, quality of life hasn’t changed since fucking 1995. People work their whole lives, giving half to the government they support while those running it pay jack shit in taxes after write offs, real estate investments. I would say Panama Papers but already feels like I got enough eyes on my cranial. Like, ‘listen up ya wealthy bastards: you’re cool. okay, you’re not cool, but enjoy your wealth, you have lots. Now stand up for people like they are more than just cattle or sheep to you.

We already know the corp governance ship has sailed. Clear gone. The change has to happen with INNOVATION. Not restrictions. It’s like the one small office on a cayman island that has 18,573 US corporations registered to it, so they can all pay NO taxes. Rich DGAF. Doesn’t hurt my feelings.

Just doesn’t change that people need help. Americans are proud people. We don’t ask for help. We don’t demand justice. For as I have quoted before ‘the opposite of ‘poverty’ isn’t wealth, it’s justice. Poverty is an injustice. Period.

Some in power like it that way.

Reminds me of the Aesop’s Fable of The Dog in The Manger…

Horse comes in, wants hay, dog bites him. Like WTF dog. Quit hoarding shit that can’t even do anything for you; quit being a dog in a manger.

I don’t know what else I can say right now.

FEEL

Feels like a day to over-explain myself: a conditioned response to trauma. Eyes roll. Fuck you. Srsly.

Any who, it is a day I feel this mortal coil wanting to be well-treated, with ample water, breath, stretching, yoga.

Also feel like I am ready to go back to vegan again, after pasture raised organic beef here and there.

I was in the hospital recently, and it really was so hard on my stomach. Ate a jar of Bubbies sauerkraut practically in like a night this week, rebuilding my microbiome after it took a beating with hospital food. But yeah, back to centering. Gut health helps. I’m damn near switching to being powered by like fish oil greens protein powder, and coconut milk, in like a smoothie only diet. That basically works for me. Superfood powders and whatnot. More ire. People upset who know I am on pandemic unemployment, also known as living in gddamn near poverty // poverty. I just spend all my money on fueling myself with quality. Yeah, I’ve made a couple me first moves in my life. And my time here in the central ca Sierra Nevadas has been more than I expected, but I have no regrets about being healthy, which often has been a physical state if not both physical and mental, which…

My social media presence def makes me appear crazy, and I will admit, some of the assumptions I made were. But also, like, I’m not deleting everything just bc 98% of my posts have zero likes. I just fear being seen as almost too out there; however, when one’s art is really good, eccentricities tend to be accepted, and expected even. Just, really I’ve not been a programmatic machine in outputted fiction. Wrote my first short novel, as practice basically, then started on a full length novel, which has been stalled by basically my own lack of a real stable center in life, which is really what I am aspiring to achieve. This lack-of-center was thrown off further when I was out of estrogen for a bit of time recently, maybe 10-14 days, but I am now back on it. Being transgender in itself is challenging to navigate.

I feel like I have been through a lot, which to some people is laughable: I get it; those with spite toward me are as cruel and unsympathetic to me as my own father was. Yawn. Pretty much without real family ties in 2021, but the gang’s all here, within.

Myself, we, The Royal We, astute, sharp, smart, caring beings that we are in my #DIDSYSTEM , yeah, we have some felt self-compassion toward ourselves, and our host body PAINBOY/\IHERMES22

I’m – painboy – am just traumatized from this last year. Sad. Feel like, what the fuck, how could I not lose my innocence until thirty-five. I feel like a child. Still traumatized from Venice Beach.

So much to process. I want open hills to hike. So much to FEEL. To Process. To digest. Absorb. Integrate. Think through. Understand. Learn from. Grow.