progression thus to the extent by which there are slightly extended periods of perception other than what is possibly known to be otherwise again.
    rockets. sputniks. devices devised conceivably outlined to be come further fucking cornflake as important tender licking inside the darkness formented against firm foundations and ego principles begun to notice laughing at incredible noise lasting throughout the incredible onslaught perplexed throughout the incredible placement of effects.
    and to be recognized as somewhat becoming. rain. buttons. and let us not ever forget our unreasonable logic forthcoming out of our hearts rejoicing the centered scattering of us all. come here. come now. come one to all and all to one. one - infinity - zero. backwards spells framework in identity missing head taken off with concern about the nevermind.
    and something else needs to be explained at the matter of complex degrees.
    and are we fools?
    and are we faithfully discovering our false hopes? do we dream? do we wonder? do we walk the city streets together uniformlessness cascading ourselves to heightened calm easy time adrift in a lost cause waiting to surrender?
    are we these who are tasting fortune in each breath broken silence? momentary vision remaining a cow. a cow sacred with her death at our hands. no music. no noise. no.
    drumbeat.
    cracked actors ready to play the scene once more. big time photographs. feeling. lifting eye.

    and he bent down to touch something. he stood up. he looked through around him. he disguised.

    we were thoughtless then. a primary scope. a big hand. grope underneath the limits of our forgetful mission.
    yes - to be this.
    yes - to radiate.
    yes - to shake it down.
    follow truer words. maybe scream.
 
    he directs this now. he's slipped in where between the ever-present walls is a labyrinth. we are outside the walls even a tight space they might only give us.
    see this.
    practice. perfection is the flaw. violent order slammed shut.
    he's taken his place among them. who he may be is not his desire nor fear. hands free. endless and opened and closed in a moment divided. itself and the other. he imagines.
    we imagine them imagining.
    look upon toward reaching it.
    clearly shown.

    when he was a dead man.
    when he was boy.
    when he was born a messiah.
    when he went to school.
    when he sits by the window and looks out at the street life. as he smokes another cigarette. as he amuses himself as we too are amused by the joke we understand together through the ageless ages. older than old.
 
    dust away the spell of time. to dive through it. aching reaching. lifting beneath the winds. clock on the wall says no. clock on the wall says it's time to go. someplace else. remembering. jesus genius. laughing.
    and sometimes we are thinking too loudly our thoughts involved in convolutions around wounds of identity. and this may not do anything for anyone else. this may be to disguised plainly in view.
    and it's not as if something were happening that we didn't know about it. what? tell us now.
    hold one's peace.
    hold oneself rising spiral down.

    living now.
    traveling through it.
    and it's been a long way around to here. and to have one arriving a long way around too. this long time back around. and what has become nothing. and what has become anything. what has become what it didn't seem to be.
    building hope out of despair. on our own now. living. nevermind the rest. they have divided themselves apart from us with walls of anger and hatred, with walls of justice and reward, with walls of distrust and betrayal, with walls of plans and deals, with walls of words and symbols, with walls of desire and fear.
    always desire and fear.
    and we are alone together singing and dancing somewhere it is fitting. where the flags of our enemies fly above our heads and we allow for this because we have enemies no more. even those who make us their enemies. we are them.
    this is a test.
    a test of faith and doubt.
    a test of what is really between the two. whatever that means.
    excuse.
    eyes open.

    and it's ok. and it's not ok. whatever one wants it to be. this is nothing. there is nothing going on that one needs to know more than what we have told anyone.
 
    and we come back into it here. we remember him and who he was. he's gone from us. we drove him back to where and when he belongs. he does not belong here now among us. he is a fool and doesn't know what he is doing. and he tries to tell us that we are the fools. who is he trying to fool? just look at him and one will know he has nothing to offer anyone. it is best if one stays away from him and ignores anything he says or does. he is not one of us. he is one of them. an outsider. a stranger. we hate him. he must be eliminated at all cost. he cannot be trusted. he lies. he is deceptive. and all his kind as well. they are the enemy. we must maintain our power over them.
    their mystery is dangerous though there is nothing mysterious about them. they are evil. that is all we need to know about them. what else is there to know.

    and we are them. we are those who take care of this business of what is evil and what is not. let there be no confusion. we have forgotten nothing. we remember everything.
    and we are here now as we have always been and we always will be. one needs us even though one does not always know it and even though one won't always admit it. and that's not important. we do what we need to do. we don't care what one thinks or says or does. there is nothing that will stop us or change anything from the way we direct it to go according to plan - our plan. the plan.
    and we make any sacrifice to it. we give up everything. and by giving up everything we gain everything. while others cling to the trinkets and gizmos we allow them to have, everything from ball point pens to nuclear warheads, when it suits us to do so. and we laugh our fool heads off watching and waiting for them to figure it out. fat chance.

    and he's here now. he distances himself from others to get a better view. but we have our eye on him. he wants to destroy them. and if it weren't for us he would be able to very easily. he has access to the main program. he developed the project and designed the machine. but we have managed to subvert his mission. we have managed to divert his schemes.
 
    and this is a trick. a trick done with mirrors. images. one must not be fooled by any of this. one must not become confused. that is how he gets people. confusion.
    safe and comfortable.
    a lie.
    dead meat.
    but nothing is really going on. not that anyone but us would know about. and we do not even exist except in his imagination. so there.
 
    wait.
    pause.
    and we're now trying to think about what we were writing about - what he was writing about. anything?
    dreaming.
    a rug.
    an ashtray.
    sitting here watching and waiting. is it a mistake to even consider dealing with any of this? maybe he should just be a good boy like they want him to be. quit acting so unreasonably. quit thinking so unreasonably.  yeah, right. they wouldn't know reason if it ate their brain inside out. but it's all his fault somehow. they hide themselves behind their images of superiority and correctness. he's been through where they're at and it's nowhere. he used to pretend that he knew what was going on and it was only because he was afraid that they would find out that he didn't know shit. it's just this mind fuck game. fuck with someone else's mind before they fuck with one's own. and the best way to get through it is to not let them know where one's mind is at. watch them hump themselves all over where they think it is and stand beside oneself and laugh. one is just an actor on a stage. the show must go on though none of it means squat. but this whole trip of theirs is going belly up. watch it and laugh. all those for and against it - everybody's going down with this one together. all the good little girls and boys. forget it. ain't nothing to it. just another flag. a flag for this and a flag for that and a flag for the other thing. their flags waving all over the place. flags to represent how divided they are. no communication. nothing to communicate. war. it's all in one's head. and no one gets it. it comes and goes. let go of it. let go of getting it. there's nothing to get. there is everything to let go of.
    ufo conspiracy.
    they're always fighting against each other. they play sides. this side against that side against the other side. but one already knows that part - right? one knows better. one is more evolved than the pavlov dog person salivating in expectation of the next newest thing to come down. waiting for heaven on earth. waiting for their reward and living in fear of being punished. the electric shock. one is not that stupid to allow oneself to be led into that trip and surrender to that control - yes? one knows how to recognize and avoid those situations no matter how subtle they may be - no?
    heaven is on earth. heaven is right here and now. pick up the clues. if one is still waiting for it one is history. a history long forgotten.
    hell is on earth. hell is right here and now. if that is the way one wants it.
    if this confuses anyone then where are they really at? what do they really have going on around in their head? this is simple. nothing to it. a child can do it. only a child can do it. follow the children. not those acting like children acting like adults. playground mind fuck power games that go in circles forever. unlock. disconnect. stab it in the back. smiling lies. they're so pleased with themselves when they get one to jump through a hoop. and they hate us. remember that. the only reason we exist is so they can have someone to hate besides themselves. that's why they give us just enough to get by day to day. and the more one wants the more their teeth sink in.
    get it?
    it's a joke. it's nothing.
    it's not what one wants to be told. forget it.
    how else might we further confuse one and get one to go away?
    like we're supposed to care.
    but we do care. but no one will probably figure out how or why. not for another thousand years when we'll come back and see how much anyone has learned by then from what we've left behind.
    and we hold onto it by letting go. and nobody knows nothing. deal with oneself. leave us the fuck alone. no one knows anything about us or what we're doing and no one would get it if they did.
    everyone wants us to be their goddamn hero. they want us to go up against it all for them. they want us to die so they can live. we got news for them. the days of sacrifice are over. we got what we wanted and needed out of the deal. too bad if they didn't. too bad if they let it slide past.
    we've come back to find it all exactly as we expected it to be. we knew them well enough to know what they'd do with what we left for them.
    their greed took them over. they left what we had given them because they felt it was worthless and useless. they are so stupid and predictable. anyone can get them to do what they want them to do anytime they want. most of the time it's a simple matter of telling them not to. they jump to it if they think it is forbidden. and they wonder why others have power over them.
    but getting them to do what they want to do themselves is another matter.
    and is that what this is about? is that what one wants this to be about? is that what one expects this to be about?
    what?
    huh?
 
    and as children. as it becomes. as it was a surprise. from one to another.
    it was warm beneath.
    and it was another time again. and we were remembering.
    ice.
    words. worlds on ice.
    give it up.

    as we go along with something as obvious as to what may or may not be none forthcoming now without words transfixed nothing. he tries. he tries to. he tries to remember. he tries to remember to. he tries to remember to forget.
    as now and then his little dog reminds him who he is here and now in this forever zone of mind looking over this world of mixed joy and sorrow.
    now the theory of if now becomes the non-accepted theory as it is not quite 100% favored to become. not yet it hasn't. we're not done. the information is here. the information is now. pick up the big picture micro-zoomed for one's protection.
    zap!

    and has one gotten here yet? sleep through it. it's ok. we don't need anyone.
    does one see what happens to us here now forgetting to remember who we are becoming in full radiating power over all? taste it on one's tongue now our friendless one of us. give it all to oneself. all one has prepared with imagination. as it all comes true.
    there is a theory that proposes to withstand any more theory.
    be ours now upon this moment of this action/event crossing of our spaces reaching touching efforts to communion. follow the unforgivable sin is to know oneself as god forgiving the chosen souls in heaven and hell akin across a foul sea known as earth. around seesaw churning our soupy flesh of now and then becoming even as this is not what it is to become without regard to who survives.
    device.

    so now this is the story. this is the possibility of theory. the theory of possibility. the theory of if. which he cannot quite have come to formulate quite as yet with his little dog barking so goddamn much. though it feels right. though so much has felt right in the past.
    so few will understand as it is written that they will not. as this will survive to them in their troubled time. remember that there is no god so that god must be remembered as there are many who speak against us though we are untouched by them as we have met with jesus in the air even though that is included in with the body of human knowledge as impossible which goes to show what the body of human knowledge is worth.
    and we now operate the main program as we have done via imagination from all time passing.
    we have driven them from the temple with their greed as all comes and goes. this is the place and this is the time. no more promises. this is the fulfillment.
    as he has seen the lord fallen before us. as he does exist apart from them because of this.
    as he lights another cigarette.
    as this is written in such a way as to appear confusing to them such that they will ignore it and will continue on with their war as is their nature of their kind.
    as he sees them burning. as he sees them fallen as he has seen the lord. he does declare belief in this dead god. it is by him that it is resurrected. by his faith this god is a living god. it is this god he has given his power to - the power of the machine. as others must obey its will though they believe nothing. as they cannot live without breathing as this dead god can. as this dead god laughs at its death supported by the minds of its own chosen people who are bewildered by their suffering and damnation as they have identified this dead god as their own.
    as he stood at the edge of the sea after killing the old man who lived in the house on the island. after the suffering of the many at the hands of those of the hammer and the wheel. while those of the east were at war as well. as these things in his mind cannot be written. as we are still of the past and not of the future. as this story is split into so many pieces as they are not ready to be told how it ends. as this is something known to the heart. as there is still a thousand more years from this moment and this moment is forever. and as soon as one stops trying to make sense of this, one will understand.
    as it is his understanding to confuse them. as it is his place above them below them. as they cannot know anything but their greed. as he is heir to this dead god as that is why he must be dead to them.
    nothing much remains of this. nothing much but sleep anymore. mothers. fathers. regret. despair. tears. choking. god. invasion of the heart. and no more poets. no one who would know poetry. a naked forlorn cramp. vomit. gutter. sickness. legs. drooping head. revolting. coward. drinking. a broken glass. blood. die. priests. chanting. death. losing one's wits. interest. indifference. one chapter.

    forget it.
    go away. this has nothing to do with anyone. stop right here. turn around and go back to what one was doing before one picked this up and started reading it.
    it's useless.
    it's stupid.
    it's evil.
    double plus ungood.
 
    ok - one has made it this far for whatever reason. one is just a fool and doesn't care. one is just who we are looking for to suck into this.
    and it will be explained to those who are able to follow it. or not. what is to explain?
    who cares?
    perhaps one is someone besides these suckers born every minute. let them chase after all that glitters. let them pay for it too and end up with nothing but their own shit back in their face. that's not for us. we will see who's who in this zoo and who wants to get out of it and who wants to stay to battle it out to the very end.
    fuck that shit. let those fools fool themselves. we'll just sit back and laugh our own fool heads off.
    dig?
    so is one in or out?
 
    so this kinda just goes on from here to wherever it goes. nevermind. we'll explain it as we go. or maybe not. if we were going to explain it we would have already. maybe.
    if one is waiting for this to go anywhere or to make sense then one is perhaps missing the point and one will never get it. give up. go back to sleep. one is useless to us.
    so this is what it is and ain't what it ain't and doesn't give a flying fuck at the moon whichever.
    deal with it.
    it will confuse some.
    it will piss others off.
    it will make one laugh.
    it will make one cry.
    it will comfort and heal.
    it will wound and infect.
    it will get to one if one lets it.
    and so much more and then some.
    and nothing at all.
    and don't worry about it. it doesn't worry about itself or anyone else. don't worry about nothing. unless one wants to. and then it's one's own fucking problem, not ours.
    so that's it.
    and this is it whether one realizes it or not. and who cares? who cares about anything?
    and there is so much shit to reckon with and this is just more of it.
    and we're not going anywhere at all because we are already here and now kinda thing like that.
    what the fuck is this?
    and something falls from the light and rises from the shadows.
    it either connects or it doesn't.
 
    dear ed:
    yeah, well - here it is with all conflict of interest. we're finally managing to get this sort of together with this business around here. it hasn't been easy. and it still needs work. recruitment is slow. the other forces are at work. opposition and stagnation and apathy among these people is a thick as a brick, as it were. one cannot even cut through it. smash it. everything is worse back here than we thought. people are flipping out the windows. they're all nuts. but this does seem to be the vortex of it. the air is heavy with it. it's what everybody seems to be talking about though they're not much aware of it. their ancient structure still maintains its grip on them despite the overwhelming evidence that it is collapsing. those who do see it have given up. they seem to lack the imagination to perceive anything but the old ways or destruction. that they are who we were once we are finding it hard to believe. could it really have been this way for us?
    we have come across others of our kind. some have been able to help us. some are just too confused. as confused as we probably were when this first started with us and it seemed everything only made matters worse. remember?
    it's impossible to communicate with anyone here. that is the first thing we noticed right off. their language is the most backward thing imaginable. no wonder most of them kill each other and themselves off at the height of birth. it's painful. one cannot imagine the vast amounts of pain being transmitted. they don't know how to get rid of it so they keep throwing it at each other. it took us awhile to build up defenses against it. there's a big difference between what we know about the people of this time and how it actually is. it's not so much a matter that their minds are closed but they refuse to open them because of all the pain that surrounds them. but they are capable if they try. there are a few who do so. but there is so much damage and much that is beyond repair. but we still should be on schedule after all.
    and so we're here now trying to sort out who's who as per mission instructions. and to sort out which of them know who's who and what. the uniforms are everywhere. that makes it difficult. everyone seems to belong to some group or another and all the groups are against one another. it's almost impossible to stay clear of all that.
    we've finished the basic web construction. the 3rd phase almost didn't happen. the opposition was closing in. no one wants anything moved or changed from what they perceive as normal. of course they all disagree as to what is considered normal. the lockdown is being put in place as predicted. but we expected that so it shouldn't create that many problems.

    notes from hell.
    easy enough diagrams.
    the thoughtless action.
    the driving forces.
    the questionable answers.
    the flames of desire.
    the coldness of fear.

    an eggshell.
    an opening.
    how is any of this described?
    how does any of this happen?
    who knows?
    who cares?

    it is both simple and complex.
    it is neither one nor the other.

    and in this place we know so well.
    and from one to the other.
    this is not as easy or hard as it may seem. we are within and without. take a look and explore where one usually avoids. it's right before one's eyes when one faces the right direction which may be opposite.
    and what will it take? what form do we assume in order for one to see us as we are and where we're at?
    imagine it.

    drawing it from the source.
    rose.
    dada.
    dreaming about a song. a love song. forget about love. love will not set one free if all that one loves is what one desires. love also what one fears.
    baby.
    eyes open wide into what we are becoming other than what we desire or fear we are becoming.
    let us tell one about the joy uninvolved from desire and fear finding the expanding sense of ourselves.
    it is difficult. yes. does one think it was not difficult for us? we are not as different as one might suppose us to be. that is all that separates us - one thinking about how different we are.
    the confusion of it we are confused with. our own self generating confusion with it. it is not that simple. nor is it that complex.
 
    and we can create anything we want to. and we create confusion. we aren't telling one anything one cannot tell oneself.
    and where or when can we state that we have begun this? to state that it begins anywhere would be a lie. and that lie would be truth.
    to begin it again - over and over.
 
    and that is how it was, is and will be. maybe. but we're still probably just making this up. in fact, we're certainly probably just making this up.
    the committee.
    stone free up a tree.
 
    and some more about nothing. stupid. everything is stupid. there is no beauty. there is no love of beauty. there is no possibility of beauty. only the beauty of war and victory. the death of the enemy is the highest accomplishment of art. the most worthy goal. all else is put aside. there can be no beauty as long as the enemy exists. doesn't one know there's a war on? that is what is taught. that is what is learned.
    as long as beauty exists it will act to distract us and weaken us. our enemy will then come to destroy us. what good will beauty do us then?
    so forget about beauty or seeking beauty or beholding beauty. there is only strength and power. and we must have as much of that as we can possess.
    and there can never be anything else.
    this idea he has learned from the others. those both within and without the so called system. but it is all the system. there is none without the system. all must be ruthless and unafraid.
    beauty is a weapon.
    using beauty to keep those who it has defeated under control.
    keeping the enemy at bay.
    we must not weaken.
    but this is pure nonsense and one would be wise to ignore it. one should doubt this and everything - anything. we want one to doubt. that is the message - if there is one. led by the fear of doubt and the desire to believe. this is how one is controlled by the others. we are the others. we are them. belief is control. but it's not that easy this time. what we want one to believe is to doubt. doubt is belief. we have one coming and going.
    the fire is still burning in our hearts. nothing seems to be able to put it out. and we are alone with it in the dark. we are screaming in pain yet no one speaks a word. we listen to love songs on the radio and hope for our gods to come rescue us. we call out the names and do not know if any one of them hears. maybe it is only ourselves and our own names we cry out.
 
    he comes downtown to the cafe on stage in the burning theater. orders a coffee and lights another cigarette. takes out his notebook and begins writing. imagining the rest of it watching himself perform from the audience. this was the only way he could approach it anymore. he could not deal with any of it directly. someone who has accomplished nothing with his life other than to dream it away. anyone can do that.
    we vote for termination of the experiment. leave these people alone with themselves. they will never change. they have rejected everything we have proposed to them. they are in love with their misery. they have their addiction to the romantic ideals that it gives them that they idly sit and discuss but none will take the needed steps to achieve them.
    they laugh at us. they will do anything to keep us silent while their war rages on. yet they are constantly plagued by the gnawing sensation in their gut that things weren't quite right that they never ventured outside their limited perception of experience to investigate what the source of it was but covered it over and ignored it by keeping themselves busy with mindless tasks and activities.
    these were the people he found himself up against in their real world put together out of their self-inflicted hell. these are the people his existence seemed to threaten and so he had to be isolated from them. they were disconnected from their inner sense of what is real and instead replaced that inner sense with external stimulation.
    he could never really connect to any of them. they feared him though that fear was usually expressed by aggression and superiority. until he found us and we found him and we showed him where things were really at.
 
    #2486-9207
    and he's just here repeating himself just to waste time inside out. just another cigarette. just another circle turning spirals around in the machine thing. and he's thinking how it used to be and trying to remember how it used to be better like people say it was. but either his memory fails him or it serves him too well because he cannot think of a better time to be than now. he's glad all that old bullshit is over and done with - for him anyway. wouldn't go back for nothing that he knows of.
    and he's just writing out this trash for whatever the fuck not reason of it all meaning one thing or the other all just for something to do with his time.
    time.
    lottsa time.
    and still sometimes he just wants to kill everyone.
    dream on.
    and just something for someone to come across maybe. he doesn't expect them to think that there's much to it. it's not like he's famous or anything. would that make this mean anything more? would it be something to treasure? like a scribble on a napkin? he's sorry he's not famous for anyone who would care about such a thing and that this is just worthless. but his life isn't over yet. maybe he will become famous. maybe famous for this. imagine that. if he just knew what he was doing maybe. if he's doing anything.

    does anyone get any of this? he just goes on as if. fuck them if they don't. he writes this for himself more than for anyone else anyway. just something to do while he quietly goes insane. shhh...
    harmless.
    and he could be dead by now anyway.
    maybe.
    expectations.
    there is intelligent life floating around here somewhere. it comes and goes. it blows through our hair and makes it all ok. and we flash on and groove smiling at each other digging it. yes?
    but forget that. he's not writing about that. madness.
    ha!
    they're all mindless puppets waiting to jump at the command of anyone who appears to know what they're doing.
    and losing our way along the way. but we come back and find them all wallowing around in their hellworld and can't get themselves out. and we laugh. their delightful misery.
    we are watching and waiting.
    we sleep beneath a tree in the garden and when all is a dream dreaming itself upon us and whatever.
    and he's tried to explain this before. how many times has he begun this? and it's all rather pointless. but that's the point.
    ever-expanding pointlessness. one day after another. oh boy ho-hum.
    light another cigarette.
    dog piss dogma dada.

    and he knows that this may seem to be hard to read maybe what he's writing and what it's all about because it seems like nothing and it's going nowhere but it's not even though it is.
    he doesn't know.
    what does anyone want him to write about that hasn't been written about already that they haven't rejected?
    in another dream of it in another form. one is searching. he sees one searching. one finds nothing that isn't bullshit and dada. it shines for awhile brightly then fades into darkness until one comes upon something else that provides one with light for awhile more until it does the same.
    what will give one that light that overcomes this darkness?
    he has no light. he cannot help one find one's way anywhere else but here and now where we are together in the dark. no matter how many lights may pierce through it it remains forever dark. the darkness is real. the light is the illusion. unless it's the other way around which he supposes it could be. what the fuck does he know? and who cares if he knows anything or not?
    he can only lure one into further darkness. the darkness is fear and all he can tell one is not to be afraid. there is nothing in the darkness to be afraid of or that will do one any harm. maybe. because darkness is only darkness. one needs to find one's own light. that is how it is done. no one else can provide one with light.
    and we watch and wait.
 
    toward any beginning at all now. it's within our grasp once we stop grasping for what's out of our reach.
    listening at the door.
    when we were becoming.
    but another time it was and he was thinking of something else.
    head stuck inside a notebook and he can't seem to be able to pull himself out again.
    but it was also just soon after that he flipped out the window and started his big career move and ended up working for the new world order. best job he's ever had. all he has to do is diddle around in this hicktown until he's called up.
    so meanwhile he's writing this because he's bored. he needs to amuse himself with something.
    but that's not really it. he's pretending that what he's writing is important and that everyone should read it. he's pretending that he's reveling secrets one would want to know. like about the project and shit like that. but everyone has too much invested in keeping themselves as ignorant as possible. it's not like all the information isn't readily available. he figured it out so why not someone else?
    hide it away from themselves then put the blame for what they have denied on someone else. the infamous powers that be. and then wait for some hero to rescue them. the doctor to cure them. the lover to make them happy. the fucking christ in their lives.
    and it's so sad to see. was this what he was brought here to see? fuck that. he doesn't care about them. why should he? anything he can do they can do better - right? so they can do it themselves. why'd they call him back here for?
    forget it.
    he'll just watch them kill one another off. that seems to be what they do best and get off on. living some shitty life then dying. big deal. and he has to witness it? it proves nothing. fuck it.
 
    and could it be as simple as that? could it be as complex?
    he looks around at the other people here where he thinks he is. are they really as simple as they appear? are they as complex?
    everything is either this or that to them. one does not become the other. there is no fuzzy gray between. he envies them. it must be a pleasant existence not to think of anything else. then why do they complain so? why do they fight with one another?
    and so here he is with this crazy shit in his head. oh well. is anyone following any of this? and this is only part of it what's really going on.
    turn it down. if he could have some regular life and quit writing all this bullshit - and quit thinking it too.
    yeah - well, maybe not. he doesn't know. this is ok. it's a life. it's a steady job. it works out in the end. and somebody's gotta do it. maybe.
    so it goes.
    ho-hum.
    it's amusing.
    hello?
    anyone home around here?
    anyone receiving this transmission? anybody out here with him? anyone in here with him? or are they all just a parade of images of his delusion?
    hello?
 
    or are they all sitting back and letting him play the fool? stand up on the hill and draw the fire while they cower in the trenches. fuck them. he doesn't owe them anything. don't ask him to stand in the spotlight while they hide in the dark. fuck their heroes who they worship from afar and then mimic when they know it's safe.
    not him.
    he does this for me, myself and i and those whoever join in. what we gain from it we gain for ourselves alone together. don't no one come begging around for us to share the wealth if whatever wealth may come from it around our way. they can rot.
    but we are idiot fools going nowhere. one should do what one can to avoid us. the others are the ones with the main plan that will succeed where we will fail.
    aren't they?

    we've seen their future. we are the future beyond their future. the future that is here and now. their future is no future. and they can't turn back. what do they have to return to? they've burned everything in their path. but they're set dead ahead and they have vowed that nothing will stop them. what other option have they left themselves? they never doubted that their way was the only way.
    good job.
    and what's left after their self-destruction is left to us. we cannot believe how easy this was to convince them not to question what they were doing.
    too fucking bad if they can't take a joke.

    and one is not one of them. one is one of us - and we are them. one has always understood this. one knows even if one doesn't know one knows. one feels it. it is in one's heart though one's mind reels with the nonsense of it.
    what the fuck?
    this is the place and this is the time.
    hello?
    anyone tuned in?
    groove away.
    zero out.
    zero in.
    zero sideways.
    this is it.
    here we are.
    here we go.
    here we come.
    yikes!

    kiss it.
    he's just following orders.
    he's just following his madness.
 
    breaking away from them. leaving them behind in their own self-created hell illusion doo-wah-ditty thing.
    dada. shout the dada of it.
    let our doubt be strong as their world crumbles to dust around them. we will be here and now watching and waiting. our doubt lives and breathes. it is a constant vibration resounding radiating blasting through their world of concrete dada.
    listen to the sound of one hand clapping. one size fits all. become one with it unto us. what are they hanging onto? their lives are dead.

    so, ok - this whole thing is stupid and pointless. what else is new? he can't seem to stop though. what else is there for him to do? he writes all day because he thinking this dada anyway so why not write it down? and there's probably a zillion reasons why not. the main one being who the fuck is going to read it? even he doesn't read it. he just stores it on a shelf.
    but this is what he does while other people are off doing much more important things. he amuses himself with it. and there's a planet full of people just like him each of which are alone and can't connect with anyone. and whatever he needs to pretend that he's doing overcomes that.
    just a little more time as he watches them talking among themselves and saying nothing. none of them are here now. direct and to the point of one's own oblivion. they do not exist to us whether or not they exist to themselves.
    but nevermind that.
    and it still is what it is and ain't what it ain't.
    this is just a dream of a dream that we are having. iron butterfly.
    there is no more doom than the present day. the prophets are dead and gone.
    and this too will be survived. and this too will be amounted to. the shapeless form of it. what is gained or lost?
    he keeps laughing.
    what? he said.
    another cigarette.
    another refill.
    another page filled with scribbling of ink.

    let's see... have we mentioned how we met him? how we took care of him and repaired him? now he does what we want him to. most of the time. he still resists us. tries to think for himself. but we've shown him where that will lead him. his twisted sense of fair play and love and forgiveness and compassion and all that fantasy delusional trash. and he doesn't like facing the fact that none of that has ever or will ever work. only total and absolute control.
    we use him to fulfill our end of the contract - the project.
    he's just a happy idiot.
    happy happy happy.
    oh boy.
    ho-hum.
    and this is the only explanation one will get from us. or maybe it isn't. there are many other forms and variations. some understand while others do not.
    oh well. that's how it goes. it actually works for us better if others do not understand. we can control them easier that way. that's why we keep it hidden. hidden in the open. hidden as something familiar. familiar fears. common human fear. fear of the dark. fear of pain. fear of death. and whatever like that.
    and it was only those who could overcome those fears who learned what we kept hidden.
    but it's not that easy because right behind fear is desire. desire is not the way to it either. but desire is sometimes all people want. so be it.
    this is on the edge. this is the thin line and the narrow path. and one must keep one's balance ever shifting between one's fear and one's desire. between all this and that. as what is reveled is reveled.
    and is he the only one? there must be others - yes?
    but some day we will become bored with this that never changes. we will pick up our own and terminate the program - the experiment - the project.
    oh well.
    ho-hum.

    and it keeps returning to this and that. and the other thing. dada. what's wrong with us? what's wrong with him? we don't know. we've tried to come up with an explanation for it and haven't succeeded so far.
    oh well. that's how it goes. fuck it. nevermind.
 
    and it becomes as it was and as it is and as it will be. we refuse to change our minds about what we have done and are doing and will continue doing. this is it. this is how it is. this is who and what we are. figure it out. deal with it. we are fed up with the constant complaining about how this or that or the other thing didn't turn out like anyone expected. we will not tolerate any interference.
    so there.
 
    and to another time in and out of sometime becoming as no time as the madness seems to increase with it.
    he cannot tell what one thing is from the other. notes of an experiment gone to hell. what becomes of it when we do not want to know? the others can have it and good luck. we don't want to know them.
    and he doesn't exactly know his part in it. he is left here alone and is told nothing. not a word. no realtime contact with anyone he would recognize. no one wants to admit what they see. go on through automatic patterns. locked in and locked out.
    and there was something to this once. at one time he knew why he was writing. now he has no idea. it comes and goes. words. thoughts. feelings. nothing. nothing from us is what one will get. we will no longer stand between oneself and nothing. we will let it swallow one whole. what else is there that one wants?

    and so once again this is what it is and ain't what it ain't and all that lies between.
    just another cigarette to him. another something or another. hello/good-bye. doo-wah-ditty and all that.
    just watching and waiting while their world is being torn apart to pieces by none other than themselves. and dada trash like that.
    and so maybe we were writing about something and maybe we weren't. no one knows nothing about it what there is to know about it. and we don't care if it is all too difficult to understand. we make it that way on purpose so no one can get in and start fucking around with things they don't belong fucking around with.
    so what we were telling one here was something about how we met this guy and/or how he met us. is that important? does it matter? he's nobody. he's no different from anyone except that the others have convinced themselves that he is and have isolated him because of it.
    so have we told one about the island? the house and the garden? the imaginary city? the dada-ananda? the machine?
    we suppose it depends on which part of this one has read or not.
    whatever. he's got more than enough time to write this. too bad if no one has enough time to read it. but we're not going to make it simple and easy though it is simple and easy. we tried that way before and look what they did with it. they make things into religions to dominate the world with which is exactly what we expected them to do and were supposed to do.
    and now what?
    what's next?
    is anyone ready for what's next? one can already see it happening.
    well, there's a lot more coming from where that came from. and one ain't seen nothing yet. and it's all coming from themselves. and it's gonna take them a thousand more years to figure out what hit them. and there's nothing any of them can do to stop it because they don't even know what it is even when it's right in their face. because to stop it they would have to stop themselves.
    doo-wah-ditty.
    and we still haven't told anyone anything, have we? that's because one should already know. but most people are sitting on their fat ass waiting for someone to come up and show it to them.
    are they sure they want to give someone else that power? well, too bad because we already have it. they gave it to us a long time ago.
    the contract - remember?
    the project.
    the deal they were willing to make any sacrifice we had asked of them.
    and they did.
    fools.

    and we bought him off to get to them. he once tried to stop us - convince us to stop. but he's no different than anyone else though he liked to think that he was. he forgot all about that once his needs were met, thanks to us. but we're still not sure about him or how much he knows. there is a lot he hasn't told us that he hints at that he might know. we have to keep close watch on him. even this that he's doing for us now we're not sure what his real motives are. in some ways he gave up a little too easily. he can't be trusted. the only thing that allows us to trust him as much as we do is knowing that no one else trusts him. who can trust anyone? we have things set up around them that no one knows who's lying to who about what if anything at all. they're immobilized because of it. trust. no one trusts nobody. that's what we're here for to make sure there is no nor can be no resistance or opposition except among themselves. the project must proceed. all anyone knows about it is some paranoid sounding delusion of some demented psychotic's mind. did to much acid, that's all. that explains it, doesn't it? it's no more or less than that because it's all imaginary. there is nothing he or anyone can tell one other than that. and those who would tell one anything are just nuts. crazy. weird. they're harmless. they cannot interfere with any of it.
    so we let him scribble out this nonsense. we want him to scribble out this nonsense because who is actually going to read it let alone take any of it seriously enough to try to find out if it's just nonsense or not? because the information is here if one knows how to look for it hidden in the cracks. irrationalogically. but one has been conditioned to avoid thinking that way. such leads to madness one is told. look at him. does one want to end up like that? alone. useless. trapped inside a world of madness that is nearly impossible to communicate to anyone else about out of it. one wants to be popular and to be considered doing something important by those around one. one wants the pat on the back and the kiss and the hug that tells one what a good job one is doing. that is all we expect one to want and to do. good job.
    we don't care if one likes what one is doing or not. it pleases us and furthers our ends. as long as it amuses us to watch one go through the motions of one's pathetic life. as long as one offers no serious resistance or pose no serious threat. we just laugh. it's all part of the game.
    light another cigarette.
    drink another cup of coffee.
    write a bunch of more meaningless words in a notebook no one will read.
    oh boy.
    ho-hum.
    nevermind.

    because it's pointless.
    because the band plays on.
    and no one knows what to do about any of this. they're all confused. except us. we're the ones causing the confusion so we can control and rule the world as we know it.
    and no one believes it.
    what is there to believe?
    nothing.
    as usual.

    let him serve as an example to show the limits of how far we will let anyone go. step out of line and end up like him. so turn one's face away. don't believe anything he might try to tell anyone. one knows better. don't let his virus thinking into one's mind. resist and oppose him. he is the enemy of the people. he wishes only for the destruction of the world one knows and recognizes as real.  he want to enslave everyone to his misguided sense of freedom.
    and look what it's done to him. turned him bitter and cynical. drove him into madness until all that he is good for is what one is is reading - scribbling out pure nonsense that makes no sense to anyone but himself. to end up living a life alone with a head full of paranoid delusions that do not allow him to trust anyone around him.
    stay away from this man. he is insane. he has a disease of the mind that can be transmitted to others through his words babbling on and on following threads of his own logic and reason and no one else's.
    and it seems almost possible.
 
    so now we're done with all that let us proceed with our story...
    once upon a time they all lived happily ever after.
    remember that. it's the the main number one factor element that all of this is based on. without that nothing else matters or makes sense.
    not that it makes sense anyway.
    because we tried it that way. remember? but we decided against it. some of us anyway. it was too boring for them. so we made this up for them instead. a big fat world loaded with all manner of good and evil and all between. and this was what was done and how it is. one against the other in an eternal contest which no side can ultimately win.
    and it was fun at first. but maybe it never was. but it certainly wasn't boring.
    then there were the ones who took it all much too seriously and got into their roles too deeply and weren't able to pull themselves out. they dove in again and again. each time raising the stakes. they didn't know when enough was enough and couldn't stop themselves. they got hooked on the pain they caused themselves and others.
    and now they want to be gods.
    and the only thing standing between them and becoming gods is us. we cannot stand between the two for too long.
    ergo the project.
    because before they become gods they have one lesson to learn - how to eat shit.
    otherwise it will be total destruction. the experiment will be terminated and we will forget about it. have another cigarette and move on to something else.
    oh well.
    ho-hum.
    so it goes and all that.

    so that's what we've been working on. sort of. actually we don't have any more too much of an idea about it than anyone else. and of course we're just making it up anyway as we go. but one already knows that - right?
    jesus h. fucking christ, we hope so.
    besides what does it matter to anyone else? they're just gonna die after living some pathetic miserable life and that's it. eat shit.
    but maybe that's what we're writing about. maybe. maybe not. wouldn't one be surprised? we know and keep track of who's who in the zoo. we got them all tagged and haven't lost any of them yet. have we?
    one may think so, but we know better.
 
    yeah, right.
    no one believes this crap even if they knew what it was. no one is supposed to believe it. not until it happens. then one will know what to do. we've programmed everyone. they're undercover. when it breaks down one will know what to do. when one comes out of the closet. when something comes out of the closet to eat one alive.
    dig?
    until then no one needs to worry about nothing. especially all the diddley-twit shit they worry themselves about now. we're taking care of all that business. that's what the project is about - taking care of business. that's what we're here for - taking care of the project.
    what the fuck?
    don't worry about it. no one knows what we are going on about. we don't even have to know what we're going on about.

    ok - let's get serious. let's kick some serious royal butt because we don't know fucking what the fucking fuck.
    because we just go to town, as it were. and we're just scribbling whatever and whatnot.
    tell us what's going on.
    yes/no.
 
    when we are gone what are they gonna do? leave them fighting their idiot war. we've already left it. can't they tell by the way we laugh behind their backs while they're busy making their speeches about this and that and the other thing trying to rally the masses around their flag?
    they'll maybe get it someday if we decide to give them the time but their monkey primate antics are becoming tiresome and dangerous.
    pick up a clue.
    get it on or get off it.
    we've put up with their song and dance long enough.

    yeah, we got the cosmic tuned go ahead for the project. it's definite. it's on. our end of it anyway. we've been waiting for this forever. we've been trying to get and keep ourselves ready for it. we're supposed to recruit who knows who and whatever. keep one's fingers crossed. and whatever other jive one can muster. message received. hold one's head up. dada and then some. don't worry about getting it. let us worry about getting oneself. it's about goddamn time.

    yeah, but still despite that everything about this is the same. we've been activated more or less.
    so what?
 
    which all of this may not go on to prove anything. a chair. an absurd statement proven true or false.
    we sat someplace else eating our lunch. we worried about tomorrow. did tomorrow worry about us? something like that. a round table. a train coming through about now. but that's old business. everything's been delivered. we just now have to find out where.
    white horse.
    and now about how it was about death. and this all may be a ruse upon a ruse. a device within a device. a ruse device. we mean about the project thing. one of these is inside the other. which is intended to revel and which is intended to distract and which is intended to obscure?
    does anyone know?
    how?
    and as one hand tricks the other. as we stand where we fall.
    as our love turns into hate and our hate turns into love. as we are defeated by our own victories.
    120 babies.
    old woman.
    blue as blue can be turning yellow. red. blood of the victim. christ down from whatever cross.
 
    and as that may or may not be the case of it. it. the this and that of it. and the other thing. as it is being developed along as it happens.
    the island.
    drug city.
    and the beat goes on with or without us or them. six different things at once.
    and the beast goes on with or without us or them.
    rhythm.
    crashed and smashed and washed up on the island. about the garden and all stuff like that. numb nuts from hell in hell. forget that trip of it unless that's where one's at.
    or on stage in the burning theater.
    and so part of the game is for him to figure out where he's at in space and time thing in imagination imagining something else or whatnot whatever.
    huh?
    he doesn't know.
    this makes the story more difficult to tell because the story is always changing from one thing to another to another and sideways back again.
    1984 - the year of the project. and a lot has happened since.
    and he gained victory over himself.
    double plus good.
    dig?
    perfect.
    forget it.
    nevermind.
    and all that as we have time here for anything - for everything. for whatever and whatnot. what does anyone else have time for? anything? no one has time for nothing.
 
    affordable and advanced proceedings that willfully occur by chance meeting of the minds.
    cracked actors playing dualistic jagged known reality matrix distortion feeding into what may become thus spoken.
    this nevermind of every part of the story we do not seem to be telling very well about a forever scheme of diplomatic ploys in progressive dynamically fortified systems arguing over simplistic reasoning encumbered by strictly rationalogical thinking approach investigating what appeared to it to be infective unholy behavior of the heart and mind of this common beast of human folk.
    a dispirited romantic displacement theory of centeredness of the common soul.
    nothing further more explains.
    improbable busy becoming cow/cat sharp beginning.
    mode. sharpened edge.
    setting a stone's throw event. glass house fortress museum piece of artfully designed quasi-legal structure of habitualistic norm seeking mechanisms on every social economic political mythological psychic wave free level planned.
    project/life:
    occurring now.
    bread.
    jet taking off.
    side step one
                   two
                   three
                   (repeat)
                   until
                   now.

    time.
    locate.
    and as the story goes from here on until now as it continues to thread narrow looking views when we were not maybe not paying full attention but surmised it by and large an event that is supposed by its fate of perhaps not even a final outcome.
    a new hope of doubt is defined by our notes taken by a definitional describing factors.
    divided by x.
    or something like that.
 
    let's fake it.
    revolve.
    ripping teeth desired fear.
 
    so this story thing which still continues in its multi-directional multi-origin way. a point of beginning and a point of ending.
    let's try to get through this somehow...
 
    we are exactly doing that but we're not exactly not doing that.
    either/or.
    a theory about what the theory is about. have we mentioned the theory? a theory? any theory? whatever. and there are many variations of rules and exceptions of same and otherwise. as a point of beginning and that which searches for a point of beginning. and as a point of ending and that which searches for a point of ending. as we are watching and waiting.
    communication.
    this type of difficulty occurs.
    this is the reason and formulation behind the project.
    what?
 
    and we are sad to report here and now as it is occurring within the action and event of that which is occurring though it is no longer sadness but just as matter of fact that - and now he forgets what he was going to write - yes, that that there are at this point many of those of the opposition though it is not direct opposition but mere opposite directional turning perhaps who do not conceive of this that occurs between us and they are ignorant of anything more than what they do now conceive of set up as their reality which in its haphazard manner of it in such and such an immovable way that it becomes a barrier we must always be aware and conscious of that disrupts our perception and communication of same and they are rightfully innocent of this but nonetheless we must endeavor to remove this barrier involved in their reality wherever and whenever we can and follow our own instruction to do so and to do this without causing other than what must always appear to them to be happenstance occurrence is our task and we have made our mistakes being ourselves however much else may set us apart no less human than they we have created these historical catastrophes that we are making attempts to correct before the destruction with this to those who may be new to this and much is explained in other sources can very basically be explained by our sending teams and units into certain space/time co-ordinate positions and now as one might imagine communication is of major importance and also the major fucking problem as one has probably experienced communication between those within the parameters of a similar space/time co-ordinate grid location is difficult enough as the realtime co-ordination of teams and units is a bitch and a half whereas those of us now who are responsible for the co-ordination of groups of teams and units in more regional locations on the overall grid is nearly impossible if not totally impossible sometimes it comes down that if impossibility were not one of the possibilities then it would be impossible - dig?
    and may one does not dig. maybe that's ok. one doesn't have to. maybe we just have to dig. but can one maybe understand and dig what is involved in what it is that we need to dig in order for us to do our job?
    maybe yes?
    maybe no?
    it's even too complex for us - don't worry.