NLP, it's like baseball, I swear

First of all, never believe anything I ever say, tubes (really this format approaches a state of megalomaniacal psychopathy that my internal ramblings could never achieve, despite great effort [probably the only aspect in which I've put forth great effort {One fuckin' day I'm gonna start the "No I" experiment, eschewing all first-person pronouns; this ego is damnable}]). Negative feedback loops are the Devil (no Jesus). When you awaken with the immediate thought of "What the fuck am I doing? I hate myself," which eventually (appropriately) leads to "why even get up?" (which conveniently leads to leaving the bed at a time that renders the day effectively nullified) you are bound to have a shitty day/night/period of consciousness. Which makes sense to me. I don't feel that there is a wrong side of the bed if you awaken and allow your mind to shout "I am beautiful, the day is possibility and off I go!" Yet I can't help thinking that without "realizing" that it's merely the dreadfully persistent (many would say naive) optimist within me. A wise man once said: "Pessimists don't start computer companies."

That wise man is Robert Anton Wilson and I'll freely admit that I believe him to have been the single most influential individual on my life; an individual with whom I've never even been in the same room with, if you'll discount my mind, and whose ideas I've allowed to fuck me up probably as much as any of the drugs and toxic relationships combined. /disclaimer

This post (really my reaction to awakening and the consequent thoughts) was derived from my rerere...reading Cosmic Trigger 2 and I can't help but feel it's truth resonate. It seems so obvious. And it's an idea I've not been unfamiliar with, actually. I think Rza introduced it to me first:

Have you not heard, that words kill us faster than bullets
When you load negative thoughts, into the chamber of your brain
And your mouth pulls the trigger that propels
Wickedness straight from hell
From the pits of of your stomach where negativity dwell - Rza, Twelve Jewels

then 'twas reiterated by R.A.W. and finally slammed into my reality-tunnel via a community college English teacher with the simple notion: "Our words make up our world." Which then got me to thinking about thinking in images...but that's another mindfuck for another fucked day. My Octopus has branched too far and its origin is lost at this point. And this reinforced what it was supposed to negate. Oh, bother. I'll try to load these thoughts into my brain for the rest of the day (no ego), again courtesy of the man:

I am at cause over my mind
I am at cause over my body
My mind abounds with beauty and power

A friend was born twenty-six years ago today and he is wonderful. Happy Born to any and all who celebrate with him.

-Andus Tremblin'

Resale value at a minimum

Too small for my britches and too big for my brain, hence the intrigue drawn from a younger audience. It used to be the opposite: my silent demeanor and scrupulous facade tended to be interpreted as aloof wisdom at best, and a traveler's curiosity at worst; which left plenty of room for a happy medium of interpretation from all walks of life, from all levels of wrinkled faces... but now it's all smiles and laughs. All comfort and tactful engagement. All bullshit, essentially, but wasn't it always?

I spoke less when I knew more and speak more now knowing less. And write even less. Lesson in loss of face...or is it of heart?

No matter. I'm the invisible immortal; biding time to pluck, scrutinize and re-appropriate your cause with a Machiavellian tendency toward exploitation of vicarious values. I'll make you love me by becoming you, though I'll only fool the remnant vestiges of myself. Haute-coultoure.

-Andus T. the bastardizer of beliefs