this is the theory so far that we - that is to say us (whoever we or us may or may not turn out to be - even if it turns out in the long run of things that we or us are actually them - or even if we or us only turns out to be me, myself and i whoever that is which may be fundamentally what the theory is about) - anyway, the theory so far is that we are exploring the development of the theory that is developed along the lines of exploration. this may appear on the surface that this being the theory is merely a convoluted and involuted process of self-referencing investigation. to that we say, yeah? maybe. so what else is new? by that we mean that on the surface pretty much everything appears that way. but, as with everything else, what the theory is in actuality should not be confused with what it appears to be on the surface. this however...

    a matter of point blank. a discussion of opposite objects. a discussion of the discussion. caught in theoretical maneuvers.
    and she said, what i was thinking of about what we were trying to do at that time (here she may be referring to early 9th month, 1976) was that it seemed... uh... that... well, let me say that what we were doing (laughs) was something along the lines of what we were doing was pretty much basically just ending up objectively observing a system of philosophy of thought that objectively observed what can only be called subjective and relative reality (laughs) - you know - social reality... socially constructed reality (laughs). there was - or didn't seem to be - any way out of it - you know? yeah, well (sighs) what we did then was - when we realized this - that that was all what we were doing - you know? thinking we were all, you know (laughs) these fucking goddamn radical thinkers who were - who had, you know, these, you know, this divine insight into everything - you know? jesus, we were all such idiots. we were just all - oh, i don't know... not stupid... well, i guess i wouldn't say that - a matter of opinion, i guess - you know? (pauses) anyway... yeah, so that was that. we haven't really talked to each other after that much. it just seemed to be - well, pointless, i guess. the only ones i know where they are anymore is... well, i'd rather not say. it's history. i'm here. that's it, i guess. we survived however way we each could. maybe denying it, but... well, yeah - you could say that (sighs). so this is what i'm saying. this is my part of it. i don't know - i'm not exactly sure what my part is. is there a part? - any parts? isn't that it? that's what we saw anyway - no parts. none of us. we just stopped at that point. we were... i don't know - maybe depressed at first? but i don't think that's it. it's not depression. compression - decompression (laughs) - something like that. not sadness. what's to be sad about? but... (sighs) well, sort of numbness. but sort of... well, a pleasant numbness. but not numbness. i don't think - well, none of us really, i don't think, ever - well, felt more alive - you know?

    and here we are at another stage. an image revolving shape that could be metaphor - that could act as metaphor. what was symbolically controlled and controlling.
    a dove on one hand.
    a dog on the other.
    the dove seems to growl.
    the dogs coos.
    the dog purrs.
    a cat in a hat.
    the dog winds up dead. the dove of death. the peace one seeks found freely flying above away from the grave gratitude of comprehension. the curtain. the applause. the blockade at dawn. this is where we meet. this is where we watch them fucking at the twisted fork - wiggling and wrestling relentless passion for possession of the prize. champion. obedience. marching protest. the walls. the wall. the rediscovered innocence. run quickly now. run before it's too late. before this too - this brief abandonment of desire - does vanish with the rest of all once held dear.
    and she sings, o' my beautiful delightful child, how i cry for you. how i reach for such pleasure to take away your pain. how is this done? how is this accomplished yet again? yet again we believe in nothing. nothing to gain. nothing to lose. yet again we find much still to fight about - to fight against - until finally it seems as always there is nothing left. the remains. the ruins. what is left to be rebuilt? but there is no sorrow here. there is no mercy. i will be damned. i have been damned. damned by those far greater than any will ever be. damned. damned to serve those who have created this holy hell. and i will be damned forever more - gladly! - before i allow you to surrender so easily into accepting your fate and to turn your face away from mine. this is my vow. this is my promise. this is my amused observation of all that has come to perplex me. me, the fool, if that is your wish. if that is what it takes for you to share this wonderful amusement with me. how i will act the part. how i will be the part. how i will be the one who is given this part to play because that is who and what i am. but just remember - remember who it once was who is fallen at your triumphant tramping feet. remember in whose heart you plant your proud flag and banner the heavens praise.

    beginning it all again.
    beginning once more this endless stream of what is not even bad poetry. at least that could possibly interest someone for awhile. something they could laugh at and thank their god it wasn't one of them who ended up such as this lost and pathetic genius of banal and crude misunderstanding of what is commonly accepted as the obvious one does not trouble oneself to think about.
    bah!
    bah humbug!
    bah humbugging goddamn nix nix nix!
    nincompoop poodle pooping puddles puddling pudding plastic pus winkin blinkin bat fizzling tizzy whizz whirrly google gurgling gaping gargantuan gloppy floppy fuddling muddling mucky muck fuck!
    and she sings again, ah - if anything were to be so sweet as... as - as anything that were to be so sweet. sweet? as sweet as sweat. the sweet salt taste of your trembling skin flesh on my tongue. how sweet is that? is it not the sweetness of surrender? but who has surrendered to who? have i to you, or you to i? and is someone else's surrender necessarily someone else's victory? hail victory! ha! all those in lock step and who embrace with the idea that the path of least resistance leads them to their promised land where they build their new and improved jerusalem. hail utopia! we have finally gotten to and arrived at no place. free at least, free at last! we have struggled and fought against all. our power - our irresistible power - easily pushing aside every immovable object, every mountain and molehill between us and our goal - our goal oriented vision of paradise. onward into the future. the future no different from the past. controlled by the past. controlled by those who tell us what is our past. all our mistakes. all our crimes. all our sins of which we must strive to be forgiven. look, they tell us, look at all you have done. look at yourselves. who could possibly forgive you? but, they say, if you promise to behave yourselves, if you can show us, if you can prove to us that you want to be forgiven, that you are willing to change, then we, your judge and jury, will then help you to change. so take our hand that we offer you. trust us. believe in us. whatever could be as sweet as that?
    ha!
    and he sings, i - me, myself and whoever this other idiot fool may be who keeps hanging around and bugging me and making me look bad who i don't seem to be able to get rid of no matter what i do. but i - me, myself and i however... however - however what?  what is this i take exception to? what is this that i always see that is flawed in all i see? holy mother god, that which holds me back from accepting at face value what i obviously desire. what is this that i just as obviously fear? fear. what am i to be afraid of? not me. it is not myself who is afraid. not i. but it is this other who tugs at my coat tails, who grasps at my boot to hold me back - to beg me not to go - not to leave him behind. alone. and i - what am i to do? pick him up and carry him? - this monkey on my back chattering away his nonsense which seems to be his native tongue and nature and only delight when i am trying to reason when i am trying to discuss with others of the like as me, myself and i who i come across about the finer things of life and all that life is truly about and how we have triumphed and gained victory over our lower common selves and our stupidity and ignorance and with our knowledge comes power and with our power we have gained authority. we who are the examples all others should admire and strive to become. we, the enlightened.
    but this ape. this animal. this beast who screeches and wildly waves his hands about, who throws his feces at those who come near him like he was locked in a cage at the zoo. is this true? why in the world would he feel this way? doesn't he know what i am doing for him as well as me, myself and i? isn't it i who didn't leave him behind and alone? isn't it i who is showing him the world beyond his imagination? isn't i who speaks for him - if he would just shut the fuck up once in a while such that we - he and i - may enter into the circles of those who... who - doesn't he understand they just won't tolerate his behavior? and why should they? who is he? who the fuck is he without me, myself and i? i should leave him - let him fend for himself however way he can. he will quickly discover i was right and he is wrong. for who will have anything to do with him? who? who but me, myself and i? i who would am the only one who would pity him enough to stop along my way - but not to stay with him. no. i will not allow him and his petty bullshit to delay me long from my - my - damn him!
    why does he do this to me? why does he gaze up at me with  those eyes - those eyes haunted and haunting - eyes red - eyes gleaming with tears - tears - tears he uses to get at me. tears so i will stop and pity him.
    no more!
    no more pity!
    no more sympathy!
    no more compassion!
    no more will i empathize with him. no more will i understand. no more will i reach down and try to soothe his pain - pain he wallows in. pain he enjoys. pain he loves. no more pain. i have had my fill of it. i am done. let him rot in hell - not i. not me, myself and i. i will not die with him. and i will not allow him to live if that is what he brings with him that he expects me to endure. i have no answer for it. no answer but that i will not... not - arrgh! damn him!
    but i cannot do what i must. i cannot leave him. and i cannot do what it will take to put him out of his misery. i cannot - i will not - will not allow myself to do what i must. i will not kill him. i will not kill him because i am him. do you understand? this - this image you want - that you demand that i become is not me, not myself, not i. it is a mask. a mask i wear for your fucking benefit - for your protection so you may hide from who and what you fear the most of all that you fear - me, myself and i. i who will not obey you. i who will not behave myself - or make myself behave. i who will not be your trained monkey on a leash.
    fuck you!
    fuck all of you who demand and expect this of me. all - all who put on this air of sophistication that stinks as rotten as a corpse. this know it all. this we've seen everything and are not amused by your childish antics and go to your room until you learn to control yourself and behave to our liking. we will not talk to you unless you do. and do not doubt that we have the power to demand this and dismiss you. our power comes from our numbers - our community of numbers. face it, there are more of us than there are of you. who are you? are you many? are you even a few? we see no one but you and you alone. that you have such a thing in mind as to make an attempt to oppose us - to resist us - is laughable. it just goes to show how little you know compared to what we ourselves know so much more than you.
    go away.

    this is what it comes to. this is the eternal irresolvable solution. the final solution. this is the final word between us. go away. is this all that we have and what we have not? whatever we have been able to grab for ourselves from the ruins of the past and the future of the past.
    take it all.
    take it and go away.
    take whatever you can load up and carry away. we don't care. we hope never to see the likes of you ever again. and if the only way we can accomplish that is by our complete and unconditional surrender to you and your new found power then that is what we will do. it seems that is what we must do in order to survive as who and what we are. you may have the free run of the world but we will have the free run of our minds and imaginations infinite and limitless dimensions that we share with no one but ourselves and any who can get here.

    what is the puppy here?
    the symbol of the symbol - not a symbol - the symbol. but not the symbol that is the only symbol. the symbol that is the symbol of the concept of symbol - the concept of concept. the concept of being something like a puppy. the puppy being meaningful or meaningless but actually really having little or nothing to do with meaning at all neither meaningful or meaningless. in this sense meaninglessness has meaning which is something that is not often seen or recognized and as such it is difficult to give words to because the words do not exist because it is not given words to make it less difficult to give words to which would probably make it something to be given words.
    hmmm...
    to give words to that which there are no words for with words that are not designed to give words to it having to go against the stream and course of the logic implied in the words and their use. and one is left with the abstract which is often criticized as being lofty intellectualism by many - those who do not understand that language itself is abstract. even simple common "real" words such as puppy when it is used to describe a young small dog may seem to be straight forward and direct when in actuality it is no less abstract than its use as symbol for something not a young small dog.
    but whatever.
    the social mind.
    those camped around their fires of truth.

    a point of view of points of view. a further discussion of the theory. an option of thought. thought of thoughts. thoughts of thoughts of thoughts. a twist. a twist of twisting. using a word and then using it again to describe itself being used until one loses one's sense of definition of the theory and the thought of the theory - the word of the theory. the word one is working from and finds an increasingly larger and more complex definition of the word one is working from then to try to reinsert that word back into the original context that was used according to the original simpler and static definitions. one word in a sentence in one paragraph in one chapter in one book out of how many other sentences in how many other paragraphs in how many other chapters in how many other books.
    whew!
    dizzy and lost.
    but maybe not.

    and abstract sort of thing what happens surrounding when an supposed answer enabled of oneself and communicate fall in love and perpetuated from the idea meets an such said screaming brats that one sees in which nothing in other words looks about one this supposed in doubt seem not to be it too should not be held or can be when one have sex to reach and communicate coming from that they to be correct or useful and question it may seem relation to in other words one should be in terms of water not only not belief which one doubts be sure more important is distinguishing bath water who do rather consistently increasing murkier to become and keep the as a test after another familiarity of what one keeps with each throws out that which is in also neither awareness other tests that the whether or not one feels to buy what and such like all manner of complex conflicting paths merging and diverging aware of one becomes knowing why one feels constitutes awareness usually becomes anything beyond common default what to do tangled web not only people very often try to straighten should be an orderly ideal of a forest this usually all out into back to a position entails something along the lines proving who just go through it not to tamper a useful way to go about result in being meaningless with anything intimidating and fearful however it can chainsaw anyway straightening out in our minds there are those who the chaos in keeping with surroundings to social or mystical taboos two options of the previous brings into the complications have mentioned a few of the vast multitudes that are pretty may or may not far beyond infinity of possibilities comprehension and one's relation to it limited in any way with one's awareness itself proportionally viewed but such is not obviously whatever reason necessarily such the case one's grasp any bearing on do not recognize there are none rely on their own or view themselves as having no beneficial reason would say cannot know because for to be grasped at least the case or know of their own admission or something said to apply it would be this way attention to things except to state that we suspect.

    a seeming circumstance of thought.
    a sea his circus tent of naught.
    in one ear and out the other.
    win some near and doubt the mother.
    driven mad by desire.
    living glad by the fire.
    lifting flight far away.
    drifting fight for another day.
    pointless.
    annointless.
    it's animal. we're animal. we stand upright and think we're chosen by some god. but there is no god. none no one can see or demonstrate. one can only demonstrate belief in god. not much of the same thing. he doesn't know. he leaves it for others to argue about. he waits to see what is finally decided, then he'll decide if he thinks or feels it's true or not. we see. we believe. which comes first? which is the cause? which is the effect? the breakdown of it. the breakdown of everything. the witness(ing) of this breakdown. to understand its nature. to feel that one understands its nature. to feel that one feels its nature. somehow. how? to become one with the breakdown of it. to be the breakdown of it. to not step aside but to step inside. this is the objective. you cannot know it. you can only see it and believe it - whichever comes first. observe. if you are it then you are what is observed. this is the subjective. break oneself down with it. to enter into it and see what's inside - inside oneself. experience what's inside.
    inside what?
    seeing?
    believing?
    an object of some kind?
    a being?
    a creature?
    is the object objective?
    what does it see?
    what does it believe?
    is it being or created?
    and so on...
    blah blah blah.

    silly. silly questions that as far as he knows the human race hasn't found answers for. so many. they push them out of the way and go about their business. we are asking human questions and trying to find human answers. it doesn't count if one has to ask god. god's answers are farts in the wind. we aren't interested in all the problems all the boys and girls are having with themselves and each other nor between race, nationality, class, religion, politics and all the other divisions invented. it's not a matter that we do not care but just that we haven't got a clue as to what the answers or solutions might be and they seem to be manufactured to begin with anyway. what is cause and what is effect? we leave it to them and wish them luck. if that offends anyone, well, too bad. take us out and shoot us. excuse us for being politically, ethically and morally incorrect. and we are probably a major part of the problem. oh well. we have no defense against those who have the guns and the numbers. they're right - we're wrong. that's fine by us.
    now back to whatever as he thinks and thinks which is what he was invented for. now back to the beginning again. beginning whatever and whatever beginning may lead to - or away from. he supposes that is the most important part - away from. how does one begin beginning if one doesn't know what or where or when one is beginning from? what the fuck?

    zero it in. zero it out. zero to zero. and counting. one two three... the divine sort of guidance. the code. the communication of abstract substance. she sat on it. he stood beside her. this was in a play once performed in the burning theater when there was a theater that was burning. but no more. now it is naught but cold ashes. we've let it die in another time that is not now. we let it go out from us starving on its own. it needs fuel. it needs food. substance. we kept the substance and killed the spirit that needs. the spirit the creates what it needs as it destroys what it needs. burning. we no longer burn - needing. not wanting what we need in order to create it.
    this is how it is. this is fate. this is the final terms of the betrayal we've agreed upon knowing what we know though none would speak of it. we knew the lies we were living by. we knew the danger of disagreement. we knew the danger of independent freedom - to be lost in a strange world. we knew the cost of sacrifice - what sour bitter taste we must swallow for our thirst. so bring out all the celebration. let us praise the end of everything - that sweet victory. nevermind the ruins we live in now. our enemy is at our feet. look.
    his hand lies still. unmoved and unmoving. she does not weep, but smiles. at last she has taken action. at last she has taken upon herself what he had stolen from her and claimed his own. life. creation. breath. the word. and does she speak now? what word leaves her mouth? what word can be spoken that would not bring him back to life again? what would not inspire his heart to beat once more? none. this is where and when it began. she spoke and he existed to hear and came to claim his name. he brought an army with him of his own kind to rape and pillage her kind and her temple hidden in the groves. mystery itself. mystery that drove him mad and became his sole desire as it became his sole fear. what he would not do to overcome this dilemma - this contradiction eating him alive. death could not stop him. death was not an enemy but an ally to strengthen him.
    but this is history. this is gone and now forgotten in the peace kept not by her word but by her silence and by her smile that awakens no more that will trouble the soul but allows long sleep where the soul finds rest. this is the motherland. this is the paradise. this is the heaven. this is eternity undisturbed by torment - his shouting and flailing madness of disappointment of having come this far only to die at the feet of all he had worshipped. to look up and see the face he longed to see turn away - she who called his name. to die with the final realization that the mission of one's existence was created as a whimsical joke - not even cruel. no ritual of determined conjuring but a sigh and a wave of a hand that brought forth that which amused for awhile then was just as easily dismissed.
    no, not cruelty. cruelty takes thought. cruelty needs a motive. there was no motive here. there was no thought. a slight mistake, that's all. a slip of the tongue when speaking in sleep and dreaming. she had dropped her guard a moment and let out this demon - this adversarial satan - this anti-self - who thrusted and lunged greedily at this chance slight glimpse suddenly opening into existence from the dark void in which it had been kept out of sight and out of mind. it screamed, i am! and raced out upon the earth to spread itself as far and wide as possible before it was discovered it had escaped. it grabbed all it could to itself for its survival and pleasure. it built fortresses to defend itself against the attack it knew would be forthcoming when it was known what a terrible thing had occurred such as itself that was a very plague corrupting all that was sacred even to sacredness itself - herself.
    the cry and alarm went out. something must be done. he must be stopped. he must be caught. he must be destroyed. he must be put out of his misery he himself creates - that he himself embraces and embodies. this wrongness of all that is right. this evil of all that is good.
    and she awakened hearing this noise of discontent, of sorrow, of anguish, of despair. and she radiated hope in order to quiet and comfort these troubled hearts and minds of souls she had promised peace and gladness and joy of existence and life who were extensions of herself dancing and singing in harmonious ballet and chorus to herself spinning a tapestry of glorious color and shape with infinite unending variation.
    and now this. this note vibrating off key by itself alone and separate. this note that became a discordant chord composing its own variations against the whole. what is this? a thread gone astray and renting and unraveling the fabric. something must be done. this must be stopped. this must be destroyed. it is evil.
    and she set herself to do so. she moved among those who had been wronged. she moved among those who had been victimized by this villain who dared to think of himself as king to rule her world. she would expose him and show him to be the fool he was and is and can only be no matter his tantrum protests otherwise. who is he to speak of anything? what can he possibly speak but his own ignorance? and this he seems to find pride in. this he boasts of in his drunken vanity before the reflected image of himself he dominated and shaped this world to mirror. he sees beauty in his ugliness. he sees strength in his weakness. he sees everything in his nothingness. he will not allow any other image but his own to exist. he usurps all and feeds upon its power as without it he himself is powerless which he will not admit but he knows is true.
    and it is the underlying knowledge of this truth of his worthlessness she speaks to. she whispers in his ear. she reminds him who he is. she reminds him she will survive him - that he can do his all and she remains unmoved, untouched beyond what pain he can and does inflict upon her. she reminds him who is the creator and who is the created, who is the beginning and who is the ending, who was and continues to be before and after his brief allotted time, time enough to let him see and realize that there is no justifiable reason for his existence. she shows him his flawed deformed imitation image of her pure perfect being he cannot possibly copy and become. she shows him why he must be banned from the living. that he is the lowest form of life, that he is the darkest vibration of energy is proven beyond doubt by every thought, word and action he is and makes. his highest creative expression is grunting and grotesque compared to her ringing beautiful refinement she manifests merely by being.
    so why does he not give up? so why does this beast not surrender and lay down and accept his fate he cannot escape? why will he not listen to reason but instead dreams more dreams of himself as who he will never be? why does he insist on having to be hunted down and killed? does he think he still has a place here? does he think he will be forgiven? does he think he will be changed and be able to rise up out of himself to join and sit with those who have rightfully been invited to the table? after all this time he has been allowed to prove to himself his unnatural nature is he still not convinced of it? is he that fucking stupid?
    it seems that he is. it seems that desperate measures must be taken. he must be shown terror and horror even beyond his own imagination. he must be driven down and out with even less mercy and more cruelty than he has ever shown he possesses. and she is the one to do it. she takes upon herself the role of avenging protector. is she given any other choice? how else is he to be defeated and again to be sent back into the void from which he escaped? her fire will consume his and extinguish it. he will be absorbed and cast out. he will be seduced and murdered in his sleep. his own methods of deception will be turned upon himself to defend justice. and whose fault is this? it cannot be hers. he has instigated this. is he not the incarnation of deception itself? he is not innocent though he will claim innocence. and he will charge his accusers of the crimes he has invented. but who will believe this except those who he has deceived? it is obvious who is the one behind all perverted and twisted manifestations of a reality which is a fantasy of self-hatred trapped strangling itself and jerking itself off at the same time in ultimate expression of its denial of the knowledge of its meaningless and pointless existence.
    walk away and leave the mad fool to execute himself. let him revel in his self-annihilation. what else is fitting?

    o' sweet babylon, how he has fouled your name and turned it into a curse with his speaking of it. he has called you whore though it is he who had forced you to be such. all who know your true kind nature know how false are his lies and accusations. how he has tricked us into turning against you. how can you forgive us? we do not ask you to. we pray you to quickly act and end our pathetic existence and worthless lives though he still commands us and we will fight and resist you. do not be afraid. you are strong. we are weak. defeat us who have fallen prey to his power. his power that only exists being fed blood to maintain its rigid inflated erect posing. he is small inside this great tower he has built. but he is crafty and tricky. he may make himself appear ordinary and harmless. he does not always wear the robes of kings but sometimes roams the street in rags. but he is still who he is. he puts on that he is innocent, but he is not. destroy him anywhere and everywhere you find him. we warn you. do not show mercy. do not offer compassion or pity. no sympathy. no empathy. this is what he uses against you. do not lower your guard. do not show any face but anger. the anger of justice. the anger of vengeance. hunt him down. kill him. destroy him. annihilate him.

    the end of times of kings and their gods. the end of men and their kings. you know who and what your enemy is. do not show him any more mercy than he has shown you. feel no guilt he tries to convince you you should feel. he cannot be won over by compassion and caring. rise up and destroy all monsters. and what monsters exist in this real world than the real monsters of men?
    the time to act is now. they have devised machines to exterminate you. they have already used prototypes of these to great success. their r&d labs are working overtime to produce more new and improved types - machines of physical, mental and spiritual control and destruction. all that has been said about men, even by men themselves, is true and much much more.

    and where does this get us? where do we stand now? what ground is left to us that isn't sand shifting beneath our feet? we who have been driven out by every group in existence. we who none will have. none except those who see us as prospects of conversion to their beliefs and cause. most others will not waste their precious time on those who come to them not pre-converted, those not ready to join wholeheartedly, those who have not purged themselves of all questions except those meeting with group approval, those willing to co-operate and get along, not those who come to argue what has been decided that need not to be argued.
    we hopeless malcontents. we grumbling anti-social loners in a groupmindthink world. we who lose when others are victorious. we who cringe when battlecries are sung out. we who as far as he knows includes only me, myself and i - himself. he who has betrayed and stabbed in the back everyone who tried to befriend and comfort him. he whose self-preservation is above all. he who will do nothing for you and expect you to do all for him. he whose very classification and identification is on most groups extermination lists. he who has managed even so to survive. he has learned to hide himself behind the masks others would rather see than his face. he who thinks himself to be god among the merely human. he who perceives you all as lower beasts meant to serve him while he sits back and does pretty much as he damn well pleases. he who insists on others following the rules, not him.
    me, myself and i - himself. what greater expression of the essence of pure being exists in this world lost in the stars? and who is capable of comprehending this as they have no measure of it within themselves to compare it to? they are hollow and filled with everything else but themselves. they are mockeries of existence each divided apart from that which sustains them as they grope in the dark for something to hold onto and end up clutching each other and huddling together in terror of all not group defined and sanctioned to be real and good. those who will not step outside but who once in a while come to the threshold and peer out and wonder what's out here.
    come, let us show you. come, join us in our lonely madness that is our delight and the very air we breathe. strip yourself of your protective uniform and adorn yourself in a costume of one who dances with oneself, who mumbles rambling nonsense no other can grasp but those who recognize the familiar sound of self-language when meaning transcends into realms of everything meaning everything where and when the meaninglessness disappears as the boundaries are crossed and left behind - not to be merely redrawn and redefined in new circles about oneself to replace the old worn away ones and since this is a cage built by one's own hand it is perceived as ultimate truth.
    what a joke.
    what a laugh.
    can you hear us laughing? you could if you had not deafened your ears to all that contradicts your new found truth. his laughter speaks of this. his laughter as he dies laughing. his laughter as he is not dead yet.

    as once concerned about what might have been something important to be concerned about. but what is important enough to be concerned about? the lack of opportunity? or the lack of love? which can work as a substitute for the other? which is more often attempted to work as a substitute for the other? is this something important enough to be concerned about? to most, perhaps not. they strive for any opportunity they can get their hands on leaving those who strive for love far behind. yet they never seem to find the opportunity that finally gives them what they want. as those are begging for love. as love seems to be something one needs to beg for. but, he supposes, it depends on what one means by love. love to be taken or love to be given. love that is cold or love that is warm. love that is unavoidably felt or love that is part of one's responsibility. love without reason or love to be earned. love that is out of control or love that follows the rules.
    and what of opportunity? when the door opens should not one step through it even if it allows no other than oneself? is there anything to be felt? is there any responsibility? how does one measure the quality or quantify of these determining factors, if there are determining factors? and whose feelings about who or what? or whose responsibility for who or what? does one deserve to be loved or to love or to be given an opportunity to be loved or to love just because one exists? - because one lives and breathes? what is existence? what is life and breath? nothing special. anyone has at least that - even the worst most inhuman criminal.
    so there are determining factors. in these - even to decide if and when they are themselves determining factors. but perhaps this is not nor needs to be our concern. others have survived and even done quite well for themselves without concerning themselves overly too much about any of this. those who have walked away from love and found opportunity and those who have walked away from opportunity and found love. and those, he supposes, who found both, and those who found neither. such is the way it is. such is not much concern to anyone except those of the latter category - who found neither - who, for obvious reasons, would be concerned but, again for obvious reasons, would find it hard to get anyone else other than themselves to be concerned. if one's got it, then one's got it. if one doesn't, then one doesn't. oh well. such is life. we could complain and demand our money back but none of us really paid a dime of any of this, did we? he didn't. and who is there to complain to? those who had the opportunity to grab what they could for themselves? those who found love? and what does one do if an opportunity to complain to any of these does arise other than just issue a complaint? and what if what one does more than complain fails to have an affect. what if anything short of holding a gun to their heads is not enough to convince them that this is something they should be concerned about? and what if those who have an opportunity to do something like hold a gun to their heads are seen by those who don't have that opportunity as being no more different than those they are doing it to? what are these people to do? who do they complain to? whose head do they hold a gun to? and on and on.
    the opportunity is the opportunity to gain power. the power to decide - both for oneself and for others. the two are rarely inseperatable except when in cases of the power to decide for oneself being the result of having the opportunity to resist others having the power to decide for them or to at least being able to ignore those having that power. are these those who find and take advantage of the opportunity to find love of some sort? this puts them in a different category altogether than the category of those struggling over who has the power to do what - but maybe not really. no one is immune or unaffected by this struggle whether directly or indirectly. the reverberations of this struggle permeate throughout all of our society on all levels in every sector. that there are a few who have this power by however means, whether by the station of one's birth or the drive of one's ambition, they come to have it and it is indeed something important enough to be concerned about. but also that there are few, maybe just as few, who have the opportunity to resist or ignore those who have that power is something important enough to be concerned about. it just comes down to this constant ongoing struggle for power since this power was recognized as an active force one could control if one so chose - if one had the opportunity to do so - if one had the ability and characteristics and mind and will and information to take advantage of such an opportunity or series of opportunities. this struggle has always been a struggle that has always been in the hands of people, individually and in groups, who met these requirements though it constantly changed hands from one to another either rapidly or over time. it, the power and the opportunity to control that power, is and has been held within a limited circle one needs to be included in in order to have any input as to how it falls. ones outside that circle, that circle being those who have the power and those who resist it, can only watch while the game of this struggle is played out rooting for or supporting one side or the other out of however many sides there might be at any given time, and/or just complain.
    and so we are here again and what have we got? again we state that this struggle is not a struggle that is limited to those at the top of things but is to be found anywhere one looks even among those at the bottom of their grand scheme of things and doo-wah of the big picture free-for-all. everyone wants to be at the top of whatever pile they can climb onto large or small.. this can be seen as a good thing for those looking for opportunity though it makes opportunity hard to find with a lot riding on luck and circumstance because if and when that opportunity is found and taken advantage of that very same difficulty makes it easier for one to defend one's position against one's competition. once that rarely open door is closed and one is behind it then one is home free, as they say.
    so what about love? it seems we have left it behind somewhere, have we not? do any of us remember where? do any of us find it amusing at how quickly that seems to happen once the struggle for power and the opportunities and such involved is mentioned even by ourselves? perhaps it is something best forgotten as something to be concerned about. the problems we are facing are complicated enough without throwing love into it all. what does it have to do with anything anyway? people who argue about it are usually such self-involved social rejects no one in their right mind could possibly love them and they are usually, despite protests otherwise, quite incapable of offering love or taking advantage of any opportunity of love being offered themselves.

    to be able to come up with an idea that holds together for more than a moment or two or three or so slippery changing evolving developing into another idea or two or three or so an amoebae absorbing dividing a collection of components that  each then collect collections to each themselves over and over.
    so to say there is an idea unto itself as a idea that is separate from other ideas separate from each other, to say there is an idea that can be examined by itself to be determined if it is true or false, to scoop a bucket of water from the sea and examine it to determine if it is true or false - compared to what?
    when an idea that there are such things as ideas that exist in this manner - separate to themselves like buckets from the sea - is not so much false as it is plainly absurd. yet to those who need the stability that ideas of truth offer any other idea that there are not such things as ideas existing separate to themselves that can be determined and proven to be true or false is absurd.
    oh well, such is life. such is human nature. to be human born into a world beyond human comprehension when viewed in such a rationalogicial manner it is no wonder they grab onto what they can of the swirling chaos around them - chaos when viewed rationlogically, since irrationlogically there is no such thing as chaos - and hold onto it for dear life. the poor helpless pathetic creatures. we should pity them. let them have their simple comfort undisturbed and step tip-toe quietly around them while they nap and dream their dreams they need so to believe are real otherwise they would feel themselves to be lost not recognizing that without their dreams of reality holding them back they will have finally become free. but though many enter through this state of mind of freedom it is all too often perceived as madness frightening breakdown from not believing one set of dreams into believing another set of dreams viewed as nightmares.
    but to dream dreams is not what we are critical of here. everyone dreams dreams. this that we are writing is a dream we are dreaming. it is part of being human to dream. it is how we perceive the world. but to limit oneself to dreaming only certain dreams of a certain type of a certain theme and to consider any other dreams not of that certain type and theme to be nightmares causing one discomfort and fear if and when one dreams them is where and when one goes wrong. and to not realize that these dreams one dreams originate from the imagination of one's own mind but instead to feel that they originate from or represent some external truth and reality outside oneself is where one also goes wrong.
    and we do not mean wrong in the sense of rightness and wrongness of something measured compared to some universal truth or reality but wrong in the sense of one's own experience when one believes in that which produces a state of feeling lost and confused and frightened. how helpful is that belief if it only aids one if one stays within certain parameters of thought that uphold that belief but all else is strange outside those parameters and if at any time that belief collapses or disintegrates one goes insane? why believe in something that will only fuck you in the end? - royally bent over on one's knees bound and gagged gang raped fucked without the slightest breath of a prayer of hope of escaping.
    no more.

    kill the beast we have become
    that did not listen when the songs were sung.
    destroy that which kept us from our true dreams.
    tear this world apart at the seams.
    rip it to shreds.
    off with their heads.
    push aside those who stand in our way -
    those who made all our tomorows into yesterday.
    today is when it all begins.
    today is the absolution of all our sins.
    boil boil toil and trouble.
    give us your shit and we'll give you double.
    and thrice.
    isn't it nice to hang you on the gallows of your own device
    you built to put us all in chains.
    you have our bodies but we still have our brains.
    you may whip us and beat us and drag us down
    but upon our heads we still wear a crown -
    the blazing light of our mind
    that sees the end of your kind.
    so do what you will that we must endure,
    but don't lower your guard unless until you are sure
    that we are dead and in our tombs
    and no more of us are hidden in your wombs,
    for it takes only one mistake on your part
    for all this that was once again to start
    when one little squiggly wayward cell
    rising up out of all you've condemned to hell
    makes its way swimming across your protective moat
    and a creature created that goes straight for your throat.
    a defect, a disease, call it what you will
    but if it needs to survive it too will kill.
    it will take upon itself any shape or form,
    whatever it needs to escape and be born.
    it does not care if you think it ugly and strange,
    it thinks of itself as rather cuddly and can arrange
    to find others who think so too
    so it really can get along fine without you who
    have constantly worked toward our extinction
    until between you and us there exists this one distinction
    that you with your comforts grow weaker and weaker we with our hardships grow stronger and stronger
    and while now you live your life for the moment we plan to stick around just a little bit longer.
    so close all your windows and lock all your doors
    and gather all to yourselves that you have called yours.
    leave us to dig through your garbage and live on the street
    and ask in your prayers at night that we never again meet.
    for now you are safe and you don't have to think,
    all you've set against us is so automatic it responds to a blink
    of your eye that sees nothing but what is pleasing to see
    and because your life is so easy you believe you are free
    while we fight for our lives against all you command
    that we've got to resist what takes just a wave of your hand
    to activate that pushes us farther away
    so you don't have to see us or hear us and can have a nice day.
    but you are us and we are them.
    so who are we to condemn?