Stream of conch

Kerouac flow

Okay, what haven’t I said already?  Written, I mean.  Well, I’m still schizophrenic.  So David is still alive and kicking.  If things keep going as of late, maybe he’ll stop entirely.   Stop afflicting me.  I can’t speak for other schizos, but mine is definitely telepathy.   My “voice” has decreased, in frequency and annoyance.  Maybe I’ll be sane!  (Maybe I always was).  ‘I’m a vampire, Jess.’  What an idiot.  A perv, go suck some blood.  He works for the government.  So, L’Estat, in that sense.  Just like I’m Jesse (also an Anne Rice creation).  Maybe I should read the law, and comment on it, in my blog.   I was contemplating doing a comprehensive assessment of the Catholic Catechism.  I have time.  I could do both.  Law would take forever.  But Lawrence is my middle name.  I want to do a deeper daily dive into the Wikipedia history I’ve been trying to read.  And I should be writing about the news I’m reading.  I’m free.  I can write about anything, anyone, fact or fiction.  Or nothing.  I can write about the biggest reality of all, the vast emptiness of the void of space, between stars, between galaxies, between universes.  Uni means one, I know that.   So there can be only 1 universe.  I use multiverse to refer to the multiplicity of worlds in people’s heads, between books in libraries, diversity of experience, culture, outlook.  My multiverse is more psychological than cosmological.  Space is mostly empty, black, boring, cold, inhospitable, dangerous, and nothing like Star Trek.  We should put our eggs into saving the earth before we get crazy about colonizing the stars, in my opinion.   I don’t believe in an afterlife.  I don’t have any children.  I’m not having sex.  Space doesn’t seem like a Heaven to me, either.  But earth is pretty nice.  Filled with idiots, but nice.  Some of these idiots are geniuses, and some geniuses idiots, but the whole iq thing doesn’t matter as much, with computers making knowledge available to all, anywhere, anytime, if you’ve got the technology.  Berkeley has x libraries.  X public libraries (including a tool library), x libraries of UCB (“Cal”), and x libraries affiliated with x, y, and z.  (e.g. GTU).  So I don’t have to read a screen all the time.  I can actually interface with a portable reading device (aka, a book).  Well, anyway, I wish I would stop aging, and have enough money to last a few thousand years, or enough time to read everything.   I also want to see all the movies.  I doubt I’m alone.  Reality is rich, and one life just isn’t enough.  I want to consume.  All of it, the whole thing.  All the music, all the tv, all the magazines, all the science.  I want to be God.  I want to be omniscient.  I want to be engaged, not oversleep (unless it’s filled with fascinating dreamtime), and be in love, raise a family, and travel the world.   I want to eat every dish at every damn restaurant.  I want to be a Buddha, without attachment.   Whatever will be, will be.  But I still want to be surprised at death, waking up in heaven, with an eternity of joy ahead of me.   Like everybody else, really.  It’s the human condition.  That’s part of the allure of the vampire.   Immortality, not aging.   Subsisting on blood, or not being able to operate in daylight, not so much.  People eat meat.  That’s a bloody business.  People are dark, too, even if they sleep nights.  There is enough evil in the world to fill the daze.  Knights are soldiers, chess pieces, just around the corner, waiting with their pointy swords, just like demons with their pointy teeth, or the logos of death metal bands, all pointy and sharp and threatening, like shivs and knives and spikes and pungi sticks and even picket fences.   Stay away, keep out, beware.  I’ll throw my ninja stars at you.   Bullets are less pointy, but can be just as sharp as an incisive phrase from a prosecuting attorney, sending you to a different circle or variety of hell.  But vampires are imaginary.   I suppose it IS possible to subsist on blood, it might even be an ideal nutritious food, but the supermarket and restaurants are far more rewarding, in my book.   But there are plenty of scum to fill a theoretical vampire’s quota of nightly bloodthirst, without deserving to go to hell.  But you’d probably still have to break and enter, assault and battery, and use of deadly force with a weapon or two, in addition to murder, if you were a real vampire.  Maybe it’s your nature, and you can’t help it, so the judge would give you leniency, because you didn’t want to do it yourself,  you were a slave of compulsion, a natural born killer, a demon from hell, trying to be good even, by selecting victims who had it coming, as an agent of justice yourself, brotherly, deserving of sympathy, and in the same game.  Maybe karma is on your side.  Maybe both the devil and god himself are in your corner.  Maybe you’re an agent of love.  Just a thought.  Your evil is good.  You’re authentic, being your true self, and being of service, helping society, and doing what needs be done.  You’re more than just a vigilante, saving society the time and trouble and resources and uncertainty of criminal prosecution.   You’re a priest, a missionary, a blessing, a saint, an angel, a deity, a bishop, a cardinal, a pope, a lover, in love, an avatar of God, holy, sacred, sanctified, anointed, virtuous, true, a soldier of the lord, taking action, more than just words, an honest expression of idealism, a servant and valued member of your community, the entire world, and Nature herself.  You embody the church.  You have integrity to the highest values.  Your sins are forgiven.  You are pure.  

    That’s pretty convincing, I’ll give you that.  But what if I want to play devil’s advocate?  That’s just high-minded pap.   You’re just a resentful, bloodthirsty killer, like the worst of them.  Nobody deserves to die.  The state will lock people up for life, if necessary, and they can live virtuous lives, of service, with forgiveness and reconciliation, with a degree of freedom achieved through reading, and camaraderie with their incarcerated fellow felons.  That’s better than a bloody mess that ends in the relatively minor virtue of a full belly, but also the threatening risk of being sentenced to a life of relative misery and boredom by the copious evidence left behind (dental, hair, fiber, fingerprint, scent for dogs, saliva/dna, and m.o.).   Ahh, the life of a vampire.  It’s not easy.  Best of luck to you.  Just keep buying your cokes, your v8, your red wine, and your cranberry juice.  Eat those bloody steaks.  But stay the hell off of people’s necks, all right?  I know you want to, that there’s an ecstasy to the bite.  But for the love of Gawd, have a sangria, or a blood pudding, or make an arrangement with a blood bank or something.   Keep it legal.  Stay the hell out of jails and prisons, keep your precious freedom, it’s not the 14th century anymore, allright?  Modern forensic science precludes successful anonymous spontaneous exsanguination!  You will be hunted down, tracked, prosecuted, persecuted, and treated like a psychiatric specimen, in a cell like a zoo animal, to be gawked at and dissected.  Don’t do it.  I’m begging you.  I implore.  Be good.

     Says Jesse to Dave, and Dave to Jesse.  We channel each other.  It’s mutual.  The precise origination is obscure.  Both psychopaths, maybe.  But relatively law-abiding, thus far.  He’s a lawyer, I’m a writer, words of christ in red.  I’m gonna keep writing, until I can’t anymore.   It’s my release.   I imagine he imagines horrific crimes from around the world, a global telepath, getting feedback from the criminal justice system, like the fbi and interpol.  I could be wrong.  Don’t believe everything you think!  Being good makes you God!  God’s blog is a labor of love.  That’s a lol you can laugh at.   Labor Day was around my birthday (my mom’s actual labor).   Laughter is healthy, a gift from god.  It can heal, even.  Cheer and levity contribute to a full life, a life worth living.  Lots of laughter, lollypop.  Lots of love, even.  Did Eve get even with Adam? I can’t believe priests actually believe in that shit.  People are retarded.

     What life isn’t worth living?  I can’t imagine one, other than neuropathy, in constant pain.  There’s just so much living to do.   Stimulus.   Pussy galore.  Fighting evil.  Writing.  Bodybuilding.   Anything, like meditating or walking around your neighborhood (with a dog?).  Yoga or golf.   Freaking lawn- bowling.  Cruises and stuffing yourself silly on delicious food.   Climb mount Fuji.  Doing pushups.   Reading the best books.  Laughter, comedy.  Going to a club.   Sex, sex, sex.   With yourself, if need be.  I’m not telling you to go fuck yourself.   Well, maybe I am, lol.  I really don’t care who you do it with.  With yourself, with an elf, with Ralph.  Ha.  I’ve done an Elf.  Kind of.  Not kidding.  Her name was Ellen French.   That’s El-F, no?  I hear there are machine elves, too.   I’ve never seen one of those.  Go climb a rock.  Go fly a kite.  Go hike a trail.  Git r done.  Get on with it.  Just do it.   Go write a blog.

     Devil, dad, deaf and dumb, david, druid, fluids, u and i, menu, suicide, sue a side, sidereal, in cider, inside SI, sigh, psy, eye, I and I, ay ay captain, AI and aye-ayes (species of lemur).  Do I think too much?  Methinks, no.  Love, sex, and nature (a holy trinity!).   BLISS: books, love, internet, sex, sleep.   Hoard/whored.  In Bristol with a pistol.  Convincing a province.  Propane and anti-pain.  Propinquity to iniquity.  Equity and equine, quit wine.  Whine and dine.   Y/N and dyin’.   Living, livid at leaving.  Loathing the louvre.  Lo! The loo!  Clarity about charity.  Nicety and iced tea.  A notion of no shins.  Nasti saint.  Monks in cowls: monkey, cow, owl.

      My favorite things: college radio, economist and ny times, my blog, writing (in the groove), good food, nature, laughter, exercise, happy dogs, eidetic dreams, gymnastics and parkour, a good think, a good read, money, variety, travel, and pleasure.  Magic, cirque, taiko, religious rituals, health, improvement, finished lists.   I’m pretty sure I would like surfing or drugs or winning the lottery or publishing my blog or falling in love.  I like Belize and Camp Royaneh.  And right where I am, the Bay Area.  :-).  I like being busy.  I have more than enough to do.  What would I do if I had complete freedom?  The freedom to be free?  No laws, no consequences, no punishment, no limits?  I would DAE, do almost everything.  Ha.   But then, so would everyone else.  It would be hell.  I think it’s possible I’m already living in my ideal society.   I like life.  Life is good.  I’m not tormented and needy.  I like myself.  So I’d write a blog, lol.   Just like this one, maybe.  Me, myself, and I are all writing this.  My intended audience of the elves in my selves.  The little man in my head.