and in the interest of further development of mind and mind we look to each other through our windows.
    we look to each other through our windows.
    do we see each other at all or just see each other looking to each other through windows?
    our dirty clouded windows.
    and we are so ugly.
    what if someone saw us in our ugliness - naked and deformed - pimples on our butts and faces and backs - small cock/tits - everything.
    thank goodness for our dirty clouded windows.
    but is there a certain kind of beauty involved no matter how ugly one is?
    how do we possibly see that?
    there are those who do not care how ugly they are.
    they come out from behind their windows out in the full light of day exposing their beautiful ugliness for all to see.

    so the moon in june falls none too soon as we are allied with our spheres to be allayed of our fears.
    and we talk out in the open on the plain plane without any pain.
    where there is no pain and there is nothing to gain from each other except understanding.
    just a little understanding.
    and it sometimes happens that among those who are trying to be understood there is very little understanding indeed.
    talk about this.
    talk about that.
    pulling words right out of a hat.
    and so it goes.
    and so we go.
    around and around.
    up and down.
    in and out.
    back and forth.
    yippie! ya-hoo!

    ah - yes.
    then we come to ourselves (as opposed to coming to our senses).
    who are we again?
    who did we say we are?
    who?

    and so it is done as it is done.
    and so it is as finished as finished ever gets.
    this is not the end.
    the end comes much later.
    there is no end here.
    there is no end in sight.

    into somewhere we go with just plain old thoughts happening at once again and again until they've built up enough energy. and leaving the left behind with a laughing seahorse ice cream x-ray mind. we jump ship into a strange land and world which is our own. now. now it begins as it is begun with too much spinning all at once and talk and talk through the noise. settling for too little again. too literal a mind begins at a point exactly mapped. it follows directions via the instructions. raw data. from here to there.

    1/24
    be safe.
    wear safety goggles at all times.
    never be caught without them.

    at all times never be caught.
    all times never be.
    times never.
     me      eve
    m. v.
    martha velvetslipper was once skipping through the woods one day when she saw a man signaling for her to stop.
    she did.
    where are your safety goggles? he asked gruffly.
    i don't have them with me. in fact, i don't think i own any, she giggled back.
    don't you know this is a safety zone?
    no it's not. it's the woods.
    it's a safety zone.
    it's the woods.
    it's a safety zone.
    it's the woods.
    and this went on forevermore.
    and the moral of the story is once upon a time...

    so what is eaten is eaten.
    so what is not eaten is not eaten.
    so what is is.
    so what is not is not.
    we are one.
    we are many.

    1/25
    non-control.
    fear and power being aspects of the same phenomenon. one feeds the other. one fears so one seeks power hoping to overcome what one fears. one who has power over others is because one fears others. the others give power to the one who has power over them through their fear.
    and so as it happens.
    and so as it keeps happening.

    we circle turn in circles around about in a great circle of circles of circles of circles...
    around in circles around in circles around in circles...
    each circle turning the other circles turning the other circles turning the other circles...
    smaller circles turning larger circles.
    larger circles turning smaller circles.
    and then we wonder why our lives don't go in a straight line or we don't make any progress.

    it is becoming what it has been.
    it goes where it comes from.
    correct me if i'm wrong, said quickly underpants.

    and alf the magic rabbit declared one day, hello? hello? am i here? are we them?
    and the people who were there replied, hello? hello? who is there? are you one of us?

    and it is nowhere.
    and he looked for enlightenment for reasons he did not even know. he was called. and he understood that he would be happy with enlightenment. he did not know how this was supposed to happen. and as he moved closer to where he thought enlightenment was the less happy he became. he thought that he would never be happy. he saw all paths toward enlightenment pointing into a great dark void. was this supposed to make him happy realizing everything was nothing? and he kept going still for reasons he did not know. he was driven. and then at some point along the way he realized that he was happy. it snuck up on him when he wasn't looking. and he's not exactly sure where it had come from. and it's not like he's no longer angry, jealous, sad, disappointed, and all that, but that he's happy too. it always comes back to him or him to it. and it has nothing to do with enlightenment except he's not as afraid of the dark as he was. enlightenment is still a long way off if it is ever to be. but he's not as much in a hurry to get there as he used to be. he will get there when he gets there.

    and we were looking away the other way. we stood aside for the grand display.
    bang flash bang flicker boom.
    our mouths open yet we do not speak.
    we stood aside.
    we stood away.
    and this was quite something else indeed we were thinking.
    a dog?
    a little dog?
    a little dog who knows?
    a little dog who knows us?
    our history is written.
    a little dog who knows nothing.
    we are nothing.
    as our eyes sparkle with nothingness.
    can it be any more wonderful?
    we are nothing.
    we are everything.
    that which can be reduced can likewise be expanded.
    when it is nothing with nothing to stop it.

    to lack the language and energy to move one more inch in any direction except backwards. yet he refuses to retreat one step. he will stand where he is. he will move forward if he can. or he will fall here. his bones will mark the extent of his progress for anyone who comes this way so they will know that someone else has tried - someone else has made it this far. it's up to them to go further - if they can.
    and will they be wiser? will they have learned the mistakes he and others have made and bypassed them to arrive here with more strength than he is left with?

    cages and cages.
    cages inside cages.
    cages outside cages.
    he is a cage to them as they are a cage to him. we can keep each other caged forever or set each other free.
    free from each other yet we are also cages to ourselves. can we take the final step and set ourselves free?
    freedom is dangerous. cages contain and limit but they also protect. protect us from each other but also protect us from ourselves. and sometimes it's ourselves we fear the most.

    and huggaboo about self and others he tries to explain to himself about the danger of others to the self and oneself in the others and the danger of becoming "close" with the possibility of the self being the same in the other having two different experiences being the same mind split from itself and to see the self in the other as itself being the other. the trick is to get to the self in the other without bringing in the self in ourselves in our own experience which is different.
    we are looking at each other.
    we are looking at ourselves.
    mix and match.
    who are you?
    who are we?
    who are them?
    who are not any of the above?
    which is which?

    1/26
    so what does anything mean?
    oh yes - that question again.
    oh well.
    losing space and time.
    losing mind.
    into the earth.
    into the sun.
    into the moon.
    we were dancing again.
    we were nowhere to be seen.

    1/27
    he really doesn't know what to write. he's writing off the top of his head. things have been happening rather weirdly lately. he feels like his head is moving at warp speed. zap! it's absorbing things and putting them together like crazy. the past few years have been like that. it's been increasing exponentially. and the past few months have been rather intense. and the past few weeks have been incredible. it will probably stop. he keeps waiting for it to. he can't imagine where it's going or how it can keep moving faster than it is now. he doesn't know what to think what it is or even how it is affecting him. he used to feel more and more shattered by experience. now he feels like each thing that happens puts another piece back into place. it's like a film of something breaking running in reverse with pieces jumping up and fitting themselves together only what's being put back together isn't the same as it once was that originally was broken. it's him but it's not him at the same time.
    he's sort of afraid to think what it might be. one possibility is that he's finally going over the edge. but that's not the explanation he's afraid to think.
    he supposes that time will tell what it turns out to be.
    and the one thing that's the most amazing part of it is that he is happy. not some blissed out grinning zombie, but happy just the same. he never realized it could be like this. the sudden joy. and it's not connected to anything. it's not like he's happy because of this or that. this or that do not matter. this and that can go their own way. it's just there. it's just here. it's almost spooky.
    he had hit the fucking bottom of a nihilistic wasteland where he could no longer believe in his own existence let alone anything else. that was it. there wasn't any more from there. he had pushed himself there. everything around him was bullshit his whole life and he took it apart to see if there was anything real to any of it. there wasn't. and that is all still just the same but he came back up from it somehow. he decided that since nothing was real he could put things together any way he wanted. or something. not much of this was happening on the conscious level so he doesn't know. he just kept feeling better and better until now he is blasted away by it. some sense of moving with something that is moving. who knows? not him. he just knows he likes it.

    he was sitting up in a tree.
    he was sitting up in the branches looking through the leaves.
    he did not know who he was.
    he was someone who didn't care who he was.
    he was walking down the lonesome road when a bird of some kind flew by.
    he did not know who he was.
    he was someone who didn't care who he was.
    there was rain.
    there was lightning and thunder.
    the wet earth rocked and shook.

    a poet's madness.
    a mad poet's madness.
    think think think - all you gotta do is think and think some more.
    you'll go mad alright.
    you'll go alright mad.
    and it'll be alright.
    - somehow.

    there is no light at the end of the tunnel.
    there is no end of the tunnel even.
    it just keeps going and going into the dark getting darker and darker and darker.
    you gotta find your own light.
    that's what going mad is all about - finding your own light.
    or you could just stay nice and sane in the dark.
    the dark is kind of comfortable, isn't it?

    and he was listening one time.
    what was he listening to?
    nothing.
    but then he heard something...

    and it was nice and warm.
    and it was nice and hot.
    or
    was it only him?
              only him.

    2/1
    he wants to write about something real. something that is real to everyone. something everyone has experienced.
    what is it?
    where have we all been?
    what have we all seen?
    what have we all done?
    what have we all thought about?
    it would seem that there are many things that would fit these questions.
    the sun rising for instance.
    but the common experience is not experienced commonly.
    two people who see the same sun rising at the same place at the same time. one person has to go to work to a job they despise. the other person is going to spend the day at the beach.
    two different meanings.
    so it is not experience but meaning.
    how to write of common meaning.
    and all the misunderstanding.

    2/2
    and to be finished with all of this.
    to have it done.
    to stop the worry and pain.
    not only his own but everyone else's.
    not even his own but everyone else's.
    but his too, if you would.
                       if he would.
                       he can stop the worry and pain.
                       not everyone's.
                       but his own.

    there are times when there are times when the distance between us is infinite.
    but this can make it either finitely great or infinitely small.
    there are times when there are times when he feels there is a door open nearby.
    he cannot see the door - exactly.
    he cannot touch the door - exactly.
    but he could step through it - exactly.
    exactly in the wrong direction.
    exactly.
    and where does the door lead to?
    here - but not exactly.

    and bring it all around again.
    one.
    two.
    three.
    and everything in-between.
    in the out door.
    out the in door.
    and where are we now?
    and who are we now?
    and what is the fantasy?
    and what is the reality?

    and one thing i'd like to say, he said.
    and one thing i'd like to know before i say it.
    and one thing i think.
    to be what isn't.
    to be what is not defined as being.
    to be beyond being in being being as being is not.
    not being not being.
    and another cigarette.

    outside inside the circles.
    riding the circles without becoming the circles.

    into and out of being.
    into and out of heaven.
    into and out of hell.
    into and out of mind.
    into and out of self.
    into and out of into and out of.

    2/3
    into and out of nothing.
                            nothing but existence.
                                               existence as nothing into and out of itself pretending to exist as something - as everything.
    the turning of the wheel.
                          the wheel as nothing.

    and as the wind no longer blows.
           as the air is still and silent.
           as we do not know which direction to face.
    and as we are wounded.
           as we do not bleed.
           as we pretend we are not dying.
    every word.
    every sound.
        without meaning.
        unable to touch anything.
                                  anyone.
                                  you.
                                  himself.
    we are locked apart.
    we cannot get through to one another.
    we are alone together alone.
    waiting...

    2/4
    if he speaks to you will you listen?
    if he speaks to you will you speak to him?
    if you speak to him will he listen?
    if you speak to him will he speak to you?
    can we speak now to each other - or have we become dumb?
    can we listen now to one another - or have we become deaf?
    can we describe what we see - or have we become blind?
    has the damage others have done and we have done to ourselves become too great that we can never heal?
    will we only cry out in pain when others try to touch us?
    is there a way for us to touch one another without pain or memories of pain?
    we cannot know if we do not try.

    and what are we to become but who we are?
    do we dare to say that we are gods who can choose what is and what is not?
    and it takes more than one or two or a few to say this.
    as gods we have no power over anything but ourselves and even that is limited by one another.
    not limited by another's power over us but by their belief.
    the belief in power must be shared.
    our power is not over others but with others.

    into something as if born.
    what is broken?
    is what broken?
    into something as if dead.
    a living flesh.
    escaped.
    a broken smile.
        and we dance.
               we dance.
               we are one as we dance.
               we are two as we dance.

    the ice of our eyes.
    the mouthless face in memory becoming into broken pieces as if born.
        dancing.
        dancing.
        we are born dancing - one breath into another - each breath broken from itself into the other.
            waves breaking.
            ice melting.

    and a breath.
    and a dance dancing into becoming another breath.
    a smile on your face.
                     you look so serious - you look funny.
    he waits for your laughter.
    he waits for your next breath with laughter.
    we were unnaked.
    we wore our masks as if our lives depended on them.
    our lives were our masks.
    our masks were our lives.
    is this too simple a revelation?
    you laugh.
    yet you laugh through a mask held tight to your face that he thought it was your face.
    he wonders if you have a face.

    he's always heard his name called though he's never heard what that name was or who called it. it was/is his name - or will be his name someday. that he knows.
    who is he?
    who calls him?
    it's a name shouted as a whisper in a wind that travels through the still air.
    it comes from no direction but is just there.
    it sounds near - almost in his ear - but comes from far away in time as well as space.

    he comes through the fire.
    he comes across the water.
    does he feel the fire?
    does he feel the water?
    does he feel the fire as water?
    does he feel the water as fire?
    feel the fire as water as fire.
    feel the water as fire as water.
    walk through the fire.
    walk across the water.

    are these the dreams you are having?
    what are the dreams you are having?
    do you remember the dreams you are having?
    why is he asking you all these questions?
    why is this happening?
    what is happening?
    as we walk through the fire.
    as we walk across the water.

    and he feels so weak.
    and he feels so small.
    and the light.
    and the darkness.

    and something else about the tick-tock man dancing on his tip-toes around in a great big circle.
    again.

    and so in part this is true.
    and so in part this is not true.
    as always, it is the reader to decide which is what and which isn't what - or vise versa and so on and then some.
    there will be readers who are of the opinion that there is no truth of any sort whatsoever.
    there will be some readers who are of the opinion that there is truth yet that truth, whatever it may be, cannot be expressed with mere words of a common everyday language.
    there will be some readers who are of the opinion that there is truth and that truth is everywhere and expressed in everything - even in the mere words of a common everyday language.
    there will be readers who have no opinion at all and couldn't care less about truth or anything else for that matter.
    and so on.
    so this writing is as much truth as the reader thinks or feels it to be.
    this writing is just more writing of ideas, concepts, imaginations, ramblings, ravings, etc.
    and it is all lies.

    and what is he writing?
           what is he trying to reach?
                    is he trying to reach you?
                    is he trying to reach past you?
    to reach past you.
    to reach into that common mind.
    the common mind we share in common.
    though we view it from different angles, it is still common.
    can we get there?
    can we get there together - or must that be something to be experienced alone?
    when he's been here he's seen you - he even sees you now.
    is that you?
    is this him?
    or are we only false images of ourselves to each other?

    2/7
    he's awoken with wings - he thinks.
    he's not sure yet.
    he feels himself being lifted by the passing breeze - is that what it is?
    but it still comes and goes.
    but when it comes it stays longer than it did before.
    and when it goes it doesn't go for long or go that far away.

    and so as we are waiting.
    waiting and waiting for these moments to pass when it's exactly these moments passing we are waiting for.
    but there will be more moments passing and one of these days we will stop waiting and jump on for the ride.
    the ride of passing moments - surfing the waves of time.
    the eternal waves of moments ever rolling for the infinite shore.
    and getting there is what is the most fun.
    getting there is now.

    god.
    the living god.
    yet they tell us god died for our sins.
    not only is this a contradiction but this is something he never asked for - neither the sins nor god to die for them.
    the way he figures the whole business is that if indeed he is a sinner it's a fault of the manufacturer.
    he does as he was designed and built to do.
    so god dying for his sins is god dying to cover its own mistakes.
    death to god.
    bad god.

    he cannot believe that this is anything like a fall from grace.
    how could a god allow us to fall - even from our own actions?
    it's like one of us allowing a child to run out into the street of its "own free will".
    ignorance and free will cannot exist together.
    so how did it get all mixed up the way it has?
    having created us - and us newly created being ignorant - we needed to learn as any child needs to learn.
    and so we were sent to school to learn all there is to know - all that is good and all that is evil.

    and circles and circles.
    and patterns of circles.
    each turning of the circles is different than the turning before though enough of it is the same so we don't feel totally lost.
    but one can focus on the sameness and come to feel that nothing is changing for years and even lifetimes.
    or one can focus on the differentness and see everything as wonderfully brand new with each day or even moment.
    and the sameness allows us to continue while the differentness allows us to live.

    ha-ha-ha, the dada-ananda laughs with merrie glee while balancing on one pinky. yes - this is it. yes, yes, yes - this is it.

    how funny it is to see beyond the limited structuralized concepts. oh - and this is not to say that they do not have their uses in their own limited way. as long as it is kept in mind that they are limited and what their limitations are.
    like a screwdriver. it's nice to have a screwdriver when one needs one.
    yes it is.
    but to think that that is it and all there is is an absurd idea. yet how many other ways do we think precisely that way?
    language.
    religion.
    politics.
    money.
    those are some that come to mind.

    ha-ha-ha, the dada-ananda laughs again while peeing in the woods with one foot in one world and the other foot in another world and another foot on the moon.

    2/9
    eating rainbow.
    to taste every color.
    open mouthed wonder.
    absorbing the rainbow field.
    absorb and radiate.
    be and become.
    all.
    all one is.
    more than one as one.
    one as all.
    all as one.
    shining on into every color.
    shitting rainbow.

    and too much at one moment.
    and too much to tell with no words to tell it.
    over and out.
    under and in.
    we gaze into each other's eyes for a moment forever.
    burn each other's image into the other's brain.
    and for another moment or two before we speak.
    before we speak.
    before we speak, we listen.
    listen to what those images in our brains speak to us.

    and before we speak we wait in this moment forever.
    together.
    alone.
    in one experience of each other.
    together.
    alone.
    and are some things not meant to be spoken?
    and before we speak we think about things that are not meant to be spoken.

    and it was something else again.
    and it was here again.
    and it was at the door.
    and we spoke too soon?
    before we speak.
    before we dare speak.
    before we think to speak.
    before we even speak.

    2/10
    and so a thousand things unsaid as we were eating ourselves alive.
    zoom, she said, zoom.
    is it anything we've ever known before?
    is it something from our memory time?

    everything is dead.
    everything is dead.
    how can he still be alive when everything is dead.
    how did he get here?
    he exists for nothing.
    everything is a fantasy.
    everything is nothing.

    it died long ago.
    washed up on the beach.
        dead.
        unmoving.
    so is this all there is?
        death?
    then give it to me quickly now, he laughed. if this is all that life comes to, it's not life - it's living death. how could i have believed in anything else?

    and what was he trying to remember?
    and what did he come here for?
    what signal?
    he's waiting for more than what there is - but this is all there is.

    2/11
    licking into the poisoned air.
    the cold air.
    dead air.
    we were silent.
    something should be done, we kept thinking.

    he wants to feel.
    he feels nothing.
    he wants to be living.
    he is alive, but he is dead.

    what is outside?
    what is inside?
    and who cares?
    we were singing - or were we?
    this is all a lie.

    and around the time - surfacing.
    here and there.
    in and out of our minds.
    singing.
    dada.
    and it was what he was thinking of then. and he wasn't thinking exactly of anything. and he was not becoming anything. alive and what he was not becoming.
        he shouted a thousand names.
        he listened.
        he heard no one answer.
    no gods.
        and there were children.
        and there were gods.
        - or were the children gods?
        - or were the gods children?
    is this too simple?
        none.
        no one.
        none.
    searching for children.
    searching for gods.
    which did he think he would find first?
    if either.
    any.
    no one.
    none.
    is he here to find anyone?
    himself?
    is he a child?
    is he a god?
    which came first?

    a dream.
    a dreamer.
    a dreamer dreaming a dream.
    - of a dreamer dreaming a dream.
    - of talking rocks.
    - of a flock of icebergs.
    - of a number which is two.
    two dreamers dreaming dreams of each other in dreamtime romance.
    one becomes the other as one becoming the other.
        and two lovers dreaming.
        and what do they dream?
        of children?
        of gods?
    gods dreaming the big dream of us dreaming of ourselves dreaming of us becoming gods dreaming.
    and there is something more than what meets the eye.
    the dreaming eye.
    the eye closed and open at the same time.
    and there is so much to see.
    and there is too much to see.
    we walk on the water.
    we dream of water.
    we walk on the water we dream.
    we dream of walking on water.
    the water broken.
    we are born walking on water into our dream we dream as gods dream.
    as the gods dream.
    endlessly.
    dream.

    and he cannot stop.
    he cannot keep from dreaming.
    he enters.
    he becomes.
    he enters the dream in his silence with eyes closed and open at the same time.

    now let's be realistic.
    now let's stop what we know to be lies our brains tell us.
    now let's look at the economic situation.
    now let's turn on the radio.
    now let's turn on the television.
    now let's pick up a newspaper.
    now let's walk into town in a realistic manner.
    now let's stop pretending we are gods who walk on water.
    now let's remember we are only human and we have perhaps gone quite mad.
    now let's remember who we are.
    who am us?

    a store window reflects someone laughing at himself.
    ha-ha-ha-ha! is that me?
    you've got to be kidding!!!
    a store window reflects people passing by who thinking he cannot see them stare open mouthed whispering wildly to each other or to themselves in their brains.
    what words does he trigger?
    do they find words?
    what do they remember of this planned encounter?
    nothing is left to chance here.
    or do they forget?
    do they forget what they saw and only remember what they defined with words?
    how can words describe him?
    he can find none.
                       no one.
                       any.
    except god.
    ha-ha-ha-ha!
    you've got to be kidding!!!
    how dare he utter such absurd nonsense as that?
                                                                       as that i am that i am.
    and the wonder to be born again into each and every moment.

    and what do we say again?
    and what time does it become?
    singing the angel dawn.
    high memory or low?
    we remember a thousand songs.
    and all he sees is all he cannot do.
    and all he sees is all he will not see.
    this life has become utterly empty.

    2/12
    and into an understanding.
    and we speak.
    and our tongues wave as flags on other shores not as life or death.
    we celebrate a being among us moving within and without cause.
    we drool in wonder as thoughts cascade into our thinking.

    and what of the common poop?
    and who drives a car to and from everyday in a tv vacuum existence vacant reality with still life images.
    unknown and unknowing.
    a gray fog shape seen moving off the background somewhere.
    this being of ourselves - a vague presence in a forgotten dream long ago.
    does this become?
    does it breathe?
    or are we, to someone, this same figure departed from all imagination?
    are we a ghost in others' lives not even substantial enough to be haunting?
    but we know ourselves.
    does this phantom creature know itself or is it a cast of thousands golem?

    and the bogus mysteries of life and death and man and woman and adult and child and all the rest lumped together into our ritualistic philosophies. nevermind the "answers", the questions themselves are false. we know exactly what's going on. we've always known and always will. we just choose to forget, spake the dada-ananda once while waiting for 2 cheeseburgers, onion rings and a strawberry shake at a well-known fast food chain outlet.
    and what of suffering? asked one who was with the dada-ananda.
    and the dada-ananda was silent for many days. and those who were with the dada-ananda were troubled. did the dada-ananda not know this answer?
    and it was that the dada-ananda did spake thusly, your worry is justified as i do not have an answer to your question. i see your suffering but i do not know what it is composed of. i do not know why you suffer greatly as you do. i myself do not suffer except to see your suffering. it saddens me that i seem to be able to do nothing for you. i am nothing. it is you who are everything. it is you who must resolve this. it is your doubt that will break through this barrier and that i cannot give you except to serve as a mere external symbol of the power only you possess. the power of saints is not contained within the saints themselves. not even the power of the world's messiahs. not even the power of god. the power is not like electricity received from an external generator. the power is within you. it is your power. it is the power of your own mind, heart and being. and it may be that your power is only set free if you believe that it comes from elsewhere. for you seem not to be able to to doubt this. if i can serve you in this way then i will, but i would rather you realize the true course of power and how it is called upon. it is your power i manifest.
    and the dada-ananda exists as we need the dada-ananda to exist. the dada-ananda is a figment of our imagination.
    and the dada-ananda was once dancing with the school girls.
    and they were pleased.
    and the dada-ananda was once dancing with the school boys.
    and they were pleased.
    as they all slowly realized the truth that they did dance with themselves.

    and it was once that elmo dadaski did go to milk the cows in his/her parents' barn.
    and it was this one time that he/she did perceive that the cows were speaking among themselves.
    and they said - here comes the light of darkness.
                             this one is the knowing of ignorance.
                             it will be realized by the life of this child that truth and lies are one.
                             what can be imagined can be fulfilled.
    and such as that.
    and elmo was afraid and ran back to the house and hid in the attic where none found him/her for several days though all the time he/she walked among them.
    and body.
    and mind.

    and it is rumored - and it is known to be rumored - that the dada-ananda as the child elmo never spoke beyond speaking "dada".
    and elmo would sit upon a rocking horse rocking repeating, dada dada dada...
    and this is still the dada-ananda today.
    and this will still be the dada-ananda tomorrow.
    and somewhere this is what the dada-ananda is doing now.
        in a room.
        in a meadow.
        in a forest.
        on a beach.
        on a city street.

    and it is rumored among some that the dada-ananda is a bastard child born to a whore and the dada-ananda's father is an unknown yet famous man.
    and the dada-ananda is a skeleton in a closet.
    and the dada-ananda is the child of omelas.
    and it is rumored that the dada-ananda is the anti-christ.
    and when once asked about this the dada-ananda replied, i would gladly play the part to save another from that fate.
    and another time the dada-ananda replied, why do we need an anti-christ? why do we need a christ? why must we cast someone into hell in order to propel ourselves to heaven? for if this is true it would seem that it is the anti-christ that dies for our sins not the christ. for what greater sacrifice than to give oneself to eternally burn in hell for the salvation of others? what did christ sacrifice? a mortal life he didn't believe in anyway? big deal. who's kidding who here?

    and back again.
    and he perceives the world as only reflections of himself.
    sonar echo shapes of things and people around him.
    he knows no true identity.
    not even his own.
    his identity is shaped by the outside world's reflection.
    where it is not, he is.

    2/16
    when it dies inside you.
    when it lives outside you.
    when it lives inside you.
    when it dies outside you.
    when you neither live nor die.
    when it neither is nor is not.
    when you both know and not know your true name.
    the discovery never discovered.
    the space and time never gotten to.
    the thought never thought.

    and more of the children walking in the darkness over dark waters.
    the children who could see if they opened their eyes.
    losing everything again and again.
    into nothing.
    and nothing is everything.

    2/18
    and whereupon and so forth and doo-wah doo-dah.
    sit upon the holy ghost.

    2/20
    and sitting here watching the machine run - or listening to it run is more like it.
    and thinking about space and time and time and space.
    there is no way out.
    he doesn't think.
    maybe.
    but he is tired of playing the fool's game and thinking that there is and banging his head against the wall.
    and all the connections.
    and all the bullshit.

    and one time the dada-ananda was rummaging through the contents of a dumpster and someone came to the dada-ananda and said, tell us about space and time.
    the dada-ananda pulled out a cosmopolitan magazine and sat on the curb and spake thusly, yes - space and time. well, there is space and there is time. at least this is as the world appears.
    and the dada-ananda began thumbing through the pages.
    go on, said the person slowly. tell us more.
    the dada-ananda didn't look up and spake thusly, there is not much more to say.

    perception.
    perception.
    perception.
    deception.

    what are any of these words he uses?
        into knots.
        into the structure of knots.
        circles.
    illusion in a position of zen anus and to whom is speaking of the trap/illusion.
        suitcase.
        trip shoes tip-toe.
    and when the open door opened into us.
    and the circle angle vision abrupts into a probable cause/effect dada in hell orange burning.
        information.
        up from the mountain top.
        piano mind.

    but no.
    this is not real.
    that was not real.
    nothing is real.
        baby.
        baby.
        oh - mommasky, yeah, yeah, yeah.
    into the gates.
    right through them there gates, baby.
    yeah - he's telling you we can dance right through them gates.
    if we live that long.
    if we can possibly understand how it is done.
    how is it done?
    do you have any clue, baby, clue?
    clue in, baby, because it's clued into you.
    you can climb on any time.
    any time at all.
    it's all around us.
    where we stand in the same here and now.
    where is that at?
    he's looking for it and he doesn't even know nothing much about why.
    is it just dada or does any of it make any sense?
    not realtime sense but imaginary sense.
    if we can hold onto a piece of it no matter how much we're torn up - you don't think he's bleeding too?
    huh?

    he's got so many fucking holes in him that most of him is not here than there is that is here.
    ok-ok-ok - but it's ok, baby.
    it's ok for both of us somewhere, baby.
    that's the place we gotta find.
    time is kinda running out but we can take our time because by taking our time the closer we get to it because it's here and now.
    get it?
    how can it not be here and now?
    so what is that?
    what is it here and now?

    yeah - well.
    dada, baby, dada.
    into the deliberate irrationality of it.
    dancing on fire.
    dancing on water.
    dancing all over this place.
    dance away with you.

    dancing his heart out.
    sitting on his arse writing out pure-d grade #1 nonsense to you - yes and how.
    and if that's what you want then that's what you get.
    and if that's not what you want then that's still all you get from him because like it or not (and he loves it!) that's what he is - i am i am i am.
    and he wouldn't change it for nothing - or even everything - because he's got everything (almost but not quite) except for being any sort of right thinking down on home zeroed out plastic fantastic psychophobic double-triple not-think every other person you know or have heard of kinda guy.
    flip side is where you can find him.
    flip side to anywhere.
    take it on home again on the flip side, baby.
    walk with him awhile.
    he wants to see you smile.
    he can taste bitter bile when he sees you just on someone's file though many a mile it might as well be the nile but turning like a dial going out of style sometimes down on the tile senses about to rile screaming something vile refusing to shout sieg heil like those on the maggot pile.
    kyle and lyle were sitting on a fence which was really not there at all.
    what a delight it is even if it's only what we pretend.
    pretend to be.
    pretend the possibility.
    the possibility of another reality.
    here and now.
    how to write of that?
    hey - you find the words and he'll use them. look around you - anywhere. do you see any words that describe what he's writing about?
    do you?
    if you do, let him know.
    until then just dig it.
    and don't you forget it, baby...

    because we were divided.
    we were divided a long long long time ago.
    we divided ourselves to go through the process of finding and knowing ourselves again.
    and where-o-where does this finding and knowing ourselves take place and when?
    here and now.
    zap!
    everybody's dancing in the streets and the streets are paved with gold.
    imagine that.
    or not.
    go back home and stay there.
    there is nothing for you here.
    there is nothing for anyone here or now.

    you know, there's a rapid evolutionary change taking place right about now. a leap of consciousness. and our heads aren't "big" enough anymore. we're pregnant and are giving birth to our new selves. and it hurts. sometimes it hurts so much we wanna die - rip our heads off and die. stop the pain. stop the screaming goddamn pain.
    it's the harvest. the separating of the wheat from the chaff. the threshing time. the thrashing time.
    but when (if) it comes it's gonna be so right here and now you won't believe it. you'll think you done died and gone to heaven. there won't be anything different except we'll "see" it differently. so why not try seeing it differently now?
    because it hurts.
    there is too much pain.
    but being born is painful. there ain't nothing easy about it. and you have no idea of where you're going or why or even how or what it's gonna be like when you get there (here) of what???
    dig on that, baby, dig it.
    transmission brain to brain with all the voices in our heads.
    going insane.
    it's scary shit.

    2/25
    the explosion of chaotic event.
    enter the dreamtime.
    push all the buttons.
    all radiation becoming into being through the furnace.
    ore into gold.
    ripping apart the heart to give birth to the soul.
    lightning and thunder.
    and the quiet understanding after.
    echoes.
    echoes.

    it into and out of it.
    it transcending itself.
    god is the veil that revels the mystery of ourselves.
    satan is the prod that pushes us toward god.
    ha-ha-ha-ha! the dada-ananda laughs.

    and in our time.
    losing the war.
    walking away.
    and in the past glory.
    and in the future wonder.
    everything is measured today.

    frost angel.
    dancing on the hour.
    dancing on the edge of the hour.
    there is time that exists everywhere.
    has it been a long time?
    has it been too short?
    has it been right between the eyes - our eyes - the whole time?

    and the dance of all time.
    and the danger of all time - of knowing of all time.
    the open mind that never closes again - never closes around all that is to be in time.
    from zero to infinity.
    from alpha to omega.
    without beginning and without end.
    being.
    from one to all.
    one into all - all that one is.
    one and all.
    creator and created.
    created and creator.
    which is which?
    who is who?

    and what is that we are not?
    where and how are we divided from it?
    in the divided circles incomplete from themselves except in their completion so far.
    crashing bang boom.
    into zero.
    out of zero.
    into out of zero.
    zero.
    zero.
    it and not it were sitting on a fence...
    the division of mind.

    2/26
    the trick of time.
    the trick of mind.
    what will be known will be known.
    what is will be.
    walk through the shadows speaking a new language.
    imagine what it will be (limitless and free).

    2/27
    we are fathomless.
    we are limitless.
    we are innocent gods in a playground of creation.
    we are unchanged through our changing into and out of ourselves unknowing who ourselves are and are not.
    we become our own being of ourselves as we are into and out of the mirror image of ourselves we have become.
    we can dance.
    we can sing.
    we can raise hell and bring down heaven into and out of here and now.

    and the wonder of each moment.
    and the frustration of each moment not being wonderful.
    it's the perceiving mind that makes the distinction.
    how do we set our minds into perceiving everything as wonderful - or should we?

    2/28
    the listening time.
    broken edges and flying awareness in starvation down on knees eating the floor beneath the dirt.
    the cities were awoken by the intense bright flash into instant understanding of good and evil.
    no war won or lost.
    no surviving idea.
    no eye ever saw such a sight.