Archive for September, 2014

THFWS&TTM’s: Watching the Days Go By Pt. II

Posted in Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, GROUP MARRIAGE, Knowledge, Liason Between Parties, Line Marriage, Long Form, LONGREAD, longreads, Love, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sentience, Sexual Action/Adventure, Telemarketers, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys, The Tyranny of Evil Men, The Wisdom with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 30, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

Watching the Days Go By Pt. II

 

It may be hard to imagine how life at The Home for Wayward Souls could ever be routine, but relative to what the group had become accustomed, even consciousness expansion, group marriage, and regular visitations from The Ancient Ones took on a pattern and a rhythm that was in many ways regular and relatively predictable.

The popularity of the televised programs as well as Kali’s web site subscriptions had gone world-wide and the revenues were becoming so huge that it took a full-time team of attorneys and accountants just to manage the funds, and still maintain a not-for-profit status by charitable funding and re-investments in enterprises related to the stated purposes of the corporation.

Stan went through a few changes regarding Anastasia. He was not comfortable with what he referred to as “swinging” with Charles and Suki when he was with Anastasia. Anastasia had taken The Knowledge several times with the rest of the members of the group, and was in fact the only “outsider” that had been allowed to participate with the group, and he was starting to have some issues regarding jealousy over her in general. He accepted her relationship with her husband, but for him, there were too many extras regarding her other relationships.

She and Stan took The Knowledge (willingly) several times after that together and Stan was quite enthused about the results. He knew that if Sebastian were to learn of it, the results would have been disastrous for his career, but he also was beginning to see a side of S.G. Lodge that was more reprehensible than he thought possible, but he was able to keep it to himself. His insight and intuition had given him a large lead over his supervisor that enabled him to see several moves past him.

They knew that The Home for Wayward Souls was under investigation by The Management, but he was not willing to disclose what government agency was behind it. He apologized for not being able to reveal more, but he did promise to keep them appraised of anything they really needed to know, and did indicate that he also was withholding most of the more private aspects of the lives of the members of the group in respect to matters that did not in reality involve national security, which essentially meant he told them very little, except in general terms that they did not attempt to hide in the first place.

Then one day his supervisor called him into his office and told him he was to terminate his “involvement” with Anastasia, explaining that her husband was also under the employ of the DOD, and his “affair” with her was unacceptable. He knew better than to argue, but his heart broke a little in the process.

Although Anastasia was quite disappointed, and although she did not know that Stanley also worked for the DOD, she accepted the fact that his orders came from “above” that he had concerns for his continued assignment to THFWS if he did not comply with direct orders.

Just the same, the passion between the two of them was incredible, and given his extraordinary prowess in the standing position, she became a regular at Sunday services whenever her husband was away, and there was no shortage of places they could steal away for a fast fuck when they felt inclined, which was usually whenever the two of them were in the same building.

At the same time, her involvement with Charles and Suki was taking a real upswing that kept her too busy between an occasional absentee husband and her frolics with Charles and Suki to be overwhelmed by the prohibition of public involvement with Stan.

There was trouble brewing at the Center for Primate Research however. By this point, all the Chimps and Bonobos had been given several doses of The Fruit of the Tree of The Knowledge of Good and Evil, and with enlightenment there often comes more than a few bumps in the road.

For starters, once they realized they were being drugged, they refused to eat the food reward pellets that contained them. Some of the primates were not at all fond of the military-style training they were receiving, and some of them were beginning to get bored with it as well. Some of them loved it however, (mostly the more aggressive chimps) and those who did were being brought back to the training camps with increased regularity.

Many of them began to get sick from withdrawal, and Frederick encouraged them to eat no more than was absolutely necessary to stay well and comfortable. Management began to realize that their scheme was starting to unravel, and tried putting it in the water they drank instead.

The problem was that once they recognized the old, familiar symptoms of their previous addiction, they revolted. They were all in agreement that the work they performed as telemarketing “qualifiers” was stultifying and mind-numbing, and without the attraction of the pellets, since their captors had not yet found a way to instill Greed in them, let alone a need for money they were no longer willing to subject themselves to such inhumane treatment.

It turns out that Frederick, unbeknownst to anyone else, had formulated a plot to free his brethren. At a pre-arranged time they simultaneously assembled back at the building that housed the workplace for the Center where the telemarketing computers were located (which was literally walking distance from their Habitat) and burned it to the ground, although they left the rest of the Center intact. They had all learned to drive vehicles during their military maneuvers, stole several trucks and cars, and drove straight to the Sanctuary at the Home for Wayward Souls, guided by Frederick.

The fire created such a commotion that neither the disappearance of the primates nor the vehicles was noticed until after they had already arrived at the Sanctuary. The single guard at the gate had been overcome by three chimps who ambushed him, tied him up and carried him off to the site of their abandoned homes.

Initially, both the police and the military thought that they had been stolen, or even kidnapped for ransom. The missing guard was the initial prime suspect until they finally located him bound and gagged in one of the homes.

Sebastian and Linderman quickly ruled out terrorism or counter-espionage from a number of standpoints, including the fact that the entire rest of the world was unaware that the primates were anything other than test subjects used for telemarketing schemes once their “pure” research purposes were co-opted by PharmaCorp.

Rather than wait to be raided by SWAT, the FBI and who-knows-who else once their location was discovered, Ash hired an attorney to represent the primates who were proclaiming that their treatment was inhumane and that they had been illegally enslaved against their will, given their newly-proclaimed sentience. No mention of The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was ever made, nor did they intend to make any reference to it.

Ash then also appeared on the local (and eventually national) press and media stating that the chimps and bonobos were requesting asylum at his church. This effectively threw the proverbial (forgive me) Monkey Wrench into law enforcement’s plans to overrun the premises to re-capture the Primates.

 

THFWS&TTM’s: A Tryst with a Twist

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Crossing the Abyss, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Drug Experience, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Explicit Sexual Language, Fornicating, Knowledge, Long Form, LONGREAD, longreads, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sentience, Sex, Sexual Action/Adventure, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys, The Wisdom with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 29, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

A Tryst with a Twist

 

Now the next part of our story gets a bit tricky; I mean, imagine two people who are only marginally acquainted with each other, but who nonetheless can’t wait to be alone together because they are filled with salacious curiosity and lust after each other in ways that approach biblical proportions to an extent that they can’t stop fantasizing about the next move, who will do what, etc. etc., all the while clairvoyant of each other’s thoughts, courtesy of a drug called The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil (which more than lives up to its moniker), chaperoned by an equally telepathic Chimpanzee/Bonobo hybrid.

Anastasia drove a fully-restored, customized 1981 DeLorean DMC-12 that had been a wedding gift from her husband. She was not fond of leaving it anywhere, but the Sanctuary was about the safest place she knew of, and there was no way she could have driven herself, Stan, and Frederick to the Habitat.

Fortunately, Stan used a company vehicle (a midnight-blue Ford Crown Victoria…what else would you expect from a G-man trying to look inconspicuous?) that was adequate to the task at hand. Frederick sat in the back seat.

Anastasia slid in next to Stan, although he insisted she wear the center seat belt if she did. She was short enough that she did not obscure his view of the rear-view mirror, although he was somewhat uncomfortable with her stroking the top of his right thigh while he drove. She sensed that his entire body stiffened as soon as she touched him, although some parts stiffened considerably more than others….

(“Maybe I should put a little lipstick on his dipstick…”)

(“There’s no way I can drive if she does that…no way Bob!”)

(“You mean bob the knob?”)

(“No! I mean I don’t think I could concentrate on driving while you were doing that…not that I wouldn’t like a rain check as soon as we stop…”)

(“Well, then pull the car over before you pass out from all the blood draining from your big head to your not-so-little head…”)

(“You do realize I know everything that you two are thinking, right?), added Frederick (…but don’t hold back on account of me…I’m not one to judge or criticize…”).

Without turning around, they both knew he had “taken himself in hand”, so to speak, and Anastasia found herself a little bit turned on by the prospect of imagining a monkey jerking off in the back seat while she blew Stanley in the front, but Stan would have no part of any of that, which disappointed Frederick a great deal more than it did Anastasia, although he did finish masturbating before Stan could stop him. Anastasia was luridly fascinated and watched while Stan pulled the car over and made Frederick clean up the mess with a roll of paper towels he kept in the car.

(“Well, Dudley Do-Right…you really are prepared for everything, aren’t you?”) Anastasia jokingly replied. (So since we’re already stopped, I could help you with that stiff joint problem you seem to have developed…”)

“God Almighty already, Anastasia! I promise I will fuck your brains out as soon as we get rid of Frederick and get back to my place…OK? You can suck my cock as long and as much as you want, but I gotta get this monkey out of my back seat and delivered safely to The Habitat…” Stan was so flustered by Anastasia’s frank sexuality that he did not bother to realize he was actually speaking out loud, or that the guard at the entrance to The Center for Primate Research, aka The Habitat heard everything he said as they rolled up.

(“Hey! Who the fuck are you calling a monkey, you over-muscled jackass?!?!…It’s Bonanzee, in case you forgot….”)

“Sorry…” said Stan.

“Excuse me, Mr. Linderman?” The guard was trying very hard to keep a straight face as it was. “If you’re in a hurry, I can take Frederick the rest of the way to his habitat, if that will help, sir.”

“No, but thanks Williamson…” said Stan as he signed the list on the clipboard.

“Just trying to help, sir” said the guard as he winked to Stan.

“That will be all…but thanks.” Although Stan was more embarrassed than aggravated, he gave the guard a look that implored Williamson’s humanity not to repeat what he had heard but that nonetheless stressed what a bad idea it would be if he did. Stan was generally a very jovial, likeable man in many ways, if you were not the target for his role as Intimidator, but he also had the reputation of being a terrible enemy for anyone stupid enough to piss him off.

“Say no more sir…discretion is my middle name…you and your guest have a good evening.”

In less than five minutes time, Frederick was safely returned to his home, and Stan was “Expediting” his return to his abode with Anastasia at his side.

“…and by the way, Yes…” said Anastasia…“and No….”

“Excuse me?” said Stan.

“Yes, I can deepthroat and swallow, and it’s shaved as clean as a whistle, and eventually, I’ll probably let you do anal, if you’re a really good boy…and yes, I’ve been tested…negative by the way…and I’m very discreet…and no, I’m not wearing any panties and practically never do; no, you don’t have to worry about my husband…he’s not at all the jealous type and he’s out of the country for at least another month, so you don’t have to take me home until morning if you don’t want to…and yes, I intend to make sure you’re way too tired to even think about driving before noon, and yes I can make you the best breakfast you’ve ever had if I do stay, but no, I won’t get my feelings hurt if I don’t…remember…I can hear every thought you have.”

“OK, well…yes I am circumcised and fairly closely trimmed, but not shaved; no, I have never had a problem with premature ejaculation…yes I am sure you can make me cum several times before dawn…yes I’ve been tested…also negative, by the way, yes I love kissing, cunnilingus, and cuddling, and the scent of a woman. No, I don’t especially want to take you back any time soon…yes, I’d love for you to spend the night…two can play at this game, it seems.”

Stan was just then pulling into the parking space at his apartment building. He turned to kiss her before he even shut off the motor or the headlights, which seemed strangely out of character for him. They kissed deeply and passionately for several minutes and Anastasia unzipped his fly and started to stroke his cock before he could regain his composure enough to suggest they take the party upstairs, where he promised to show her a very, very good time.

He had barely finished locking the door before she had his cock in her mouth. He dropped his pants and picked her up, grabbing her ass and teasingly pushing his member against her sopping-wet cunt lips, parting them and pulling back just enough to spread them just a little more each time before he finally impaled her so deeply it took her breath away for a moment, even though she was well-prepared for the thrust that nearly made her cum right then and there.

She could feel the head of his generous manhood all the way back to that small pocket way past her uterus that felt like he was rubbing the base of her spine…there was no more room after that. She remembered the Tantric reference to the Kundalini Gland as she felt waves of pleasure cascading up her chakras. He had a wide, flared corona that was considerably thicker than his generous shaft, and she could feel him filling the pocket with it, stretching it open farther that she thought possible. She’d had three children and a very generous and accommodating, but tight pussy, but the majic pocket he found was bringing her over the edge quicker than she had thought possible.

He turned his back to the wall beside the door as she kicked her shoes off and placed her feet flat against the wall as he grabbed her buttocks and repeatedly slammed her down upon his cock. She began to push off from the wall with her feet and legs until he was almost completely withdrawn from her snatch before he forced his prick back into her all the way up to his balls, which she could hear slapping against her ass every time he thrusted into her.

She began to cum, and moaned with such a guttural animal sound that it surprised even her to hear it. He continued to violate her savagely, going even faster and harder than before…and she loved it.

She was cumming so hard that she knew he could feel it as her body was wracked with spasm after spasm. She was so wet that she could feel it pouring out of her and soaking his legs and his pants which were still around his ankles as she let go of her hold on his shoulders, arching her back as he held her aloft from behind her, fucking her furiously and continuously until she finally felt his throbbing cock spewing and gushing inside her as he held her tightly to him until he stopped, feeling his viscous semen flooding every nook and crevice of her cunt, flowing out of him and into her as it gushed past his slowly shrinking pleasure-pole.

He dropped to his knees and let her back rest on the floor as he slowly and gently stroked his cock in and out of her until it was completely flaccid as she spit it out of her with a final contraction.

He sat back and took off his shoes and pulled off his trousers. The next day they would have taken on the appearance of a heavily glazed French cruller, and would provoke a curious smirk from the dry cleaner who tried to pretend not to notice when he dropped them off on Monday.

Anastasia wanted a cigarette so badly she wished she could taste it, but she already knew Stan was a non-smoker. They rejoined to the bedroom, where she decided to slake her oral fixations on Stanley instead.

(“So what is ‘pegging’ I wonder?”) Stan mused as he recalled some random thoughts he intercepted shortly after their initial coupling.

“Yee Gads! You don’t miss much for someone only so recently clairvoyant…we can cross that bridge sometime in the future, OK? Now don’t make me start imagining old, naked lesbian nuns on the toilet just to get a little privacy….” Anastasia blurted out loud, realizing she was going to have to be more careful about her musings until she (and Stan) were better acquainted. She had a distinct impression that he would not be “down with that” (at least initially), and was somewhat surprised at how naive he was in such matters.

“OK, but we need to have a truce about a few things…I already figured out your husband’s name is also Frederick, but you call him ‘Rick’…I don’t want to know what agency he works for and you can’t ask for whom I work. I may be new to reading minds, but I was trained in how to block thoughts and ideas from my mind in case I was captured and interrogated…not even under sodium thiopental, and we need to find ways to focus our imaginations on other things or it will get too complicated to enjoy each other’s company.”  Stan spoke softly as he stroked Anastasia’s hair while she laid her head on his stomach.

(“OK…I was taught not to talk with my mouth full, but we don’t need to worry about now, do we?”) She knew well enough he got the idea, however.

And for the rest of that night, well past dawn they kept their minds well occupied with other thoughts they were only too happy to share.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THFWS&TTM’s: What is my One True Face?

Posted in Crossing the Abyss, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Drug Experience, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Escape Velocity, Knowledge, Long Form, longreads, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, NSFW, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sentience, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys, the willing suspension of disbelief, The Wisdom, Vision Quest with tags , , , , , , , , on September 27, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

What is my One True Face?

God gives us but one face; we put on all the others for everyone else.

Ancient Koan

As they stood together, Stan suddenly realized he needed to use the restroom before he left the Sanctuary. He excused himself, relieved himself and washed his hands.

Just as he started to turn to leave, something unusual caught his eye. It was his reflection in the mirror over the sink.

Or rather, it had looked like something behind his reflection that first caused him to turn around, and then face the mirror again. There was a sort of sheen or glow that he perceived in his reflected image that suddenly fascinated him.

He also noticed his pupils were quite dilated and suddenly remembered the expression “Windows to the Soul”. He stopped for just a moment to ponder what he might find if he looked deeply enough with his newly-found consciousness.

As he stared, he did not blink or shift his gaze, but instead blankly stared into his pupils, focused on the twin reflections…two white points of light at the very edge of the blackness just inside the inner edge of the irises.

He became aware of the increasing intensity of the color saturation of the entire frame of view within the mirror, as well as everything else within his field of view, never blinking or shifting his points of focus. It was like watching someone playing with the Chroma controls on a video camera or mixing console. The colors continued to intensify, then suddenly went black and just as quickly reversed to the spectral opposite of the original colors as if looking at a color negative on film.

As he stood there, fascinated by the image, he then saw his face again in the mirror, but everything had a metallic sheen to it or a neon glow that was quite beautiful. He did not shift his gaze or blink, afraid the beatific image of his face might disappear, only to realize that his face was beginning to morph into something or someone else…first he perceived the rapid aging of his face, and saw himself as he imagined he would look as a very old man.

This did not alarm him especially. He found it very interesting. He continued to stare, unblinking and unmoved as he then saw himself with very long hair and a full beard as he watched his complexion change remarkably. He was now transfixed by the rapid sequence of changes his saw in his reflection as he then appeared to himself as he might look as a woman…and a rather beautiful one at that, only to watch that image also age into a wrinkled old crone.

By this point he found himself so fascinated by the progression of images that he had no intention of doing anything to interrupt it by blinking or moving. He was barely breathing at this point.

The parade of faces, all of them his, continued. Different ethnicities, sexes and ages; some appeared ancient, others alien or futuristic, but all of them recognizable to him as his.

Then the faces began to take on a non-human aspect. First a bird, then a dog, a dragon and other visages not even recognizable as any specific breed or species, and all of them nonetheless recognizable as being occupied by his spirit…he saw himself in all the faces, overwhelmed by the sense of connection and oneness with them all.

What took his breath away however was when he suddenly realized he was looking at his face as it would appear as a great ape, much like Frederick, yet distinctly recognizable to him as himself.

As he began to laugh, the images disappeared just as suddenly as they had begun, but the insight remained, enigmatic and prophetic within him.

“Time to go…” he mused.

He no longer cared that he was under the influence of a drug. In fact, he was grateful for the experience, even though he would never have willingly accepted it. If Merle was correct…and it had been his finding that he always was, since the drug could not be detected or traced, and was unknown to the rest of the world…even PharmaCorp, he was safe, and he felt safe, maybe for the first time in his life since he had left his parents’ home.

He realized that he had built his life, his career around an organization that could turn on him like sharks in a feeding frenzy, if it was deemed necessary for the greater good. His intelligence and his talents had protected him thus far, but in his circle anyone may be deemed expendable given the necessary circumstances. He knew this all along, but this was the first time in many years that he felt like he belonged exactly where he was, just the way he was.

There are intrinsic factors in many experiences that cannot be measured in watts, or volts, or even ergs, nor foot-pounds or roentgens, candlepower, or other known forms of measurement. For those who believe that all is measureable, repeatable and finite nothing else exists, but for those who can appreciate that which transcends words or measurement there are many worlds both beyond this one as well as within this one that can only be appreciated by experience, by those with just the right eyes…and consciousness.

Stanley Linderman was now a proud member of the latter group.

 

How I Found Happiness through Lowered Expectations

Posted in gratitutde, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Much Too Good For Children, No Expectations, Poetry, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 21, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

How I Found Happiness through Lowered Expectations

“There is no need for attainment with nothing to attain.”

(Seung Sahn)

*****

When Dreams become Expectations

we set aside Gratitude to be replaced with Envy.

When wishes and desires

become tyrants

we become slaves to Suffering,

held down by the chains of covetousness

pulling us beneath the waters of Despair,

too blinded by Greed to recognize

the lifeboat of Opportunity

awaiting only

recognition and acknowledgement.

A dream without a plan

is a sparrow’s fart

in a hurricane,

but a dream with a plan

is a goal

that is both patient and tireless

and willing to accept

course corrections

like a sailboat tacking into the wind.

“You’re not the Man I thought you were…”

said she.

“Then open your heart to love the Man I am

he said.

or love me not at all

if it should bring you sorrow,

for I am a living, mutable changing being,

not trophy to be hung upon your wall.”

*****

 

Even as the moon shall wax and wane

according to her nature

if we should grow apart

gratitude provides the cadence

and patience sets the meter

as acceptance

awaits

the return of

our song.

All is impermanence.

Impermanence is all.

The Uroboros

reminds us we shall meet again.

The Phoenix

teaches us how.

To learn to enjoy Nothing

when we realize

that in having nothing,

we have Nothing in common

except the gratitude

that no one can take from us

for knowing the joy

of the seemingly random coincidence

of having collided in the first place

with no expectations

in the midst of nothing in particular

where Nothing is everywhere.

In that moment we are rich

in our abundance of Nothing.

Be like the Willow

or swim with the tide.

Do not curse

the waters that carry you away

as you swim so hard against the tide,

only to drown

before you have the opportunity

to wash upon my shore again,

or me to yours.

It matters not

which way or how.

The sting of the pangs of nostalgia

that causes us to sigh

and shed a tear

for that which once was

reminds us of its beauty

so we can recognize it once again.

As we gratefully and patiently

welcome its return

if it should be,

and teach us how to be

in that timeless state of grace

that is ours

without asking.

Without demands.

Without expectations.

In the meantime.

 

THFWS&TTM”s: The (Luckiest) First Day in the Rest of Your Life

Posted in Celebration, Collaboration, Crossing the Abyss, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Drug Experience, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, GROUP MARRIAGE, Interspecies Erotica, Knowledge, Liason Between Parties, Line Marriage, Long Form, longreads, Love, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Philosophical Sexuality, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sentience, The Ascent of Man, The Great Eurasian Leap Forward, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys, the willing suspension of disbelief, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Upper Paleolithic Revolution, Vision Quest with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 20, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

The (Luckiest) First Day in the Rest of Your Life

It was about that time that Frederick walked up to the two of them and signed “You can take me home now” to Stan, who pretended not to know its meaning, while still contemplating Anastasia as a lioness giving herself a cat-bath.

With that, Frederick slapped his forehead and wiped downward as he rolled his eyes.

“OK…do I have to go over to Darcy or Mark just to pretend you don’t know that I want to go home? Or maybe you haven’t noticed yet that I’m not still signing…that it’s just like I’m right next to you, whispering in your ear?”

Stan visibly stiffened and wheeled around to see who was speaking to him.

“Don’t lose it, old man…you’re fine…it’s me that’s out of the ordinary…I hope the James Jones vocal impression wasn’t too far over the top…I have different voices I like to project to humans…ones that are more likely to garner respect…can’t go off on some Jerry Lewis cartoon voice…you’d never take me seriously, right?

Stan shook his head in disbelief, frowning, his mouth slightly agape, which was not a good look for him. It completely blew his MIB/Intimidator demeanor, even if it was only for a second.

“Hey look, Stan…this may be a little too much for you to digest all at once, so I’m going to go over and tug on Darcy’s dress, or Mark coat tail, and sign for you to take me home…we’ve got plenty of time to let you get used to the new, improved me from now on.”

“Don’t stress out…we know who you are and what you’re doing here, and it’s OK, because we don’t have anything to hide…and neither do you…at least not from us…that prick Sebastian Galbraith Lodge may be another matter…but we are your friends…you’ll learn that soon enough.”

Stan stood completely still, then turned to Anastasia for support, or acknowledgement, or anything that might help him to feel like he wasn’t going crazy, but she simply smiled benignly and asked “Is everything OK?” even though she knew exactly what was happening.

The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was like that…Anastasia could no more read American Sign Language than she could Sanskrit…and it wasn’t so much a matter of reading Frederick’s mind per se as it was one of learning how to listen to the thoughts he was projecting, which admittedly he was very adept at doing, since most animals have some degree of telepathic abilities, and the great apes had by far the greatest and most well-developed skills in that area already, and whenever she took The Knowledge her telepathic abilities got a little better.

Although most chimps and bonobos do not possess the speech centers in Broca’s area to vocalize incessantly as humans do, their lack of dependence on spoken words allowed and even encouraged them to find other modes of expression previously undocumented scientifically.

Also, the hybridization of his chimpanzee and bonobo parents had resulted in an unusual restructuring of Frederick’s genetic map. As a result, his chromosomal structure very nearly replicated that of the first known hominids to branch off from the primates, known as Homo habilis.

This was before he had ever ingested The Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, which mimics the doubling of the human SRGAP2 gene thought to be responsible for the process of encephalization in Man’s genetic evolution due to accelerated improvements in the neuron pathways of the frontal cortex.

And what it did for primates, it also did for humans, producing yet another Quantum Leap in Man’s evolution, both forward and backward, no longer requiring him to choose between Instinct and Reason.

Intelligence and Sentience are in many ways related, albeit independent of each other. Wisdom, and Insight, as well as Epiphanies or Instincts are not necessarily guaranteed by a high IQ.

At the Home for Wayward Souls, as well as during the occult studies that were conducted at the Habitat, it was found that as clearly and precisely as certain concepts were very effectively communicated by Frederick, from one human to another among the other test subjects charged with interpreting the meanings, it was found that there was a certain degree of variation in the perceived messages, depending upon certain personal biases and the emotional make-up of whoever was receiving Frederick’s communications.

In much the same way, the test subjects, including Mark and Darcy often described Frederick’s perceived voice differently. They almost always described it as deep and sonorous and very somber sounding, especially if he was trying to impress them, although he had seen a number of Jerry Lewis comedies from the fifties and sixties which he found to be hilarious, which he would occasionally mimic if he was feeling silly or playful.

Mark and Darcy had arranged to have cable TV installed in Frederick’s room, which had the effect of giving him a window to the world of human thought as well as behaviors.

He clearly lacked the ability to concentrate much effort on reading, since it was too time-consuming and labor-intensive to suit his disposition. In that respect, they sometimes wondered if he might have been better disposed to learn to read if they hadn’t introduced him to television first.

Often they would describe his voice as sounding like James Jones or Graham Green…(sometimes either the sagacious elder English author or the Native Oneida actor of the same name)…he liked the sounds of the voices of both, but had something of a preference for the throaty Indian sound of the latter’s voice.

He once told Merle that he felt a kinship for the Indian Peoples, who knew all too well what it was like to be treated as an animal, somehow inferior to White Men, unlike the indigenous aboriginal peoples of his continent, who admired and respected their animal cousins.

Merle suggested he not over-generalize about Indians too much, as it had been his finding that although some still followed the ancient ways and beliefs, far too many had fallen victim to materialism, racism, drunkenness, and despair, incapable of seeing Frederick as anything but a “monkey”.

All the same, some said he sounded like a minister or priest they knew as a child, or a teacher or principal from school, or even Moses, (whatever that meant).

Charles had even stated that he had been having an on-going dream for several years now where he found himself standing before some great judge; although he admitted he always awoke before the verdict and did not know who was being judged for what, Frederick’s voice often sounded like the voice in his dream.

Anastasia said he sounded like her grandfather’s voice, which she only barely remembered from her early childhood, but of whom she was very fond.

Frederick finally came back hand in hand between Mark and Darcy.

“He said he’s ready to go home…meaning The Habitat…he knows he can’t stay, even though it’s one of those nights you just don’t want to end….” said Darcy.

“You can say that again…hell it’s just getting started, if I have my way…” thought Anastasia, and at that moment, Mark, Darcy, Frederick and Stan all “heard” her thoughts, which caused Stan to blush despite a very large grin that he was unable to suppress.

“I guess there’s no hiding anything amongst us tonight…just as well…we can cut to the chase and get moving or try to ignore the elephant in the room, but I vote we get this fellow to his bed” added Mark.

“…and I get you to mine, my dear lady…” which Stan may have thought for a minute was private until he suddenly realized everyone else was just as aware of as if he had said it out loud, causing a muffled chuckle by the others.

“Did I just say that, or only think it? What the fuck is going on?!? And am I really hearing their thoughts? Why do I think they already know what I am thinking?” Stan pondered, as his mind raced.

“Because we do know…and now you know that we know…because your brain just took a quantum leap across the abyss…you’re not losing your mind…far from it…you just discovered a whole new wing in your brain that you never knew existed…in a place before spoken words, where thoughts have wings.”

“Don’t try too hard to intellectualize about it right now. Everything will become apparent in its own good time, so just relax and enjoy the company of friends.”

Stan found himself staring into Frederick’s eyes, convinced that the words he was hearing were coming from the primate despite his rational, logical mind’s best efforts to convince him otherwise…to cause him to doubt what he knew in his heart (or soul, or wherever it is where beliefs and wisdom live independently of facts and logic).

“Did you give me drugs?” asked Stan, imploring both Anastasia and Frederick.

“Don’t think of it as a drug…think of it as the gift of sentience, more like a vitamin for your mind” replied Frederick. “The same awareness that allowed Man to make that quantum leap from his primate ancestry…the awareness that now allows me to communicate with you, as well as the others…the awareness that also gives you back the instincts you once traded for Reason.”

“For the first time in your life, your Intuition will be as strong as your Logic. You can straddle the Abyss with ease…and conviction. This is true Knowledge and Insight the likes of which you have never known before. It will take time for you to adjust to it, but it is not something that will leave you in the morning either…it will grow with you, and only those who possess this same Knowledge will even notice any difference, although others may sense the understanding and wisdom that you now possess, even if they don’t quite know what it is.”

“Some people regard the process as more like a form of post-hypnotic suggestion, facilitated by a molecule so powerful it does not even show up on a drug screen, because so little of it is required to achieve the effects.” Ash spoke the words to Stan softly, and with great compassion as he walked up to Stan.

Merle was now standing on Stan’s other side, the only person in the room tall enough to look down upon Stan, he laid his hand on Stan’s shoulder as he added “In fact, it does not even act as a drug per se, in that it does not combine specifically with anything in your body; instead, it acts as a catalyst that unlocks the release of chemicals already present in your brain while triggering the production of more of those neurotransmitter chemicals to an abundance far higher than what is considered normal, but which may well be present in higher quantities in people labeled as gifted or even as geniuses.”

“The more often you take it, the less you need to reach a threshold effect, and then it passes unchanged from your body in your breath along with nitrogen and carbon dioxide.”

“We would have never have encouraged Frederick to share this gift with you…not because we don’t like you, but because we don’t have the instincts quite yet that Frederick already has. It won’t affect your ability to drive or anything like that…it’s just this….”

“If you can relax long enough to feel the love and sense the beauty all around you will know everything you need to know…to look into the heart of those around you, both your friends as well as those who are not…. Frederick wanted to share the most precious gift he knows. We took a long time to decide to share it with him, and he has been studying you as a candidate since the first day he met you.”

“Now can we please take me home so those two can get about their own monkey business and the honeymoon can get rolling for everyone else?” Frederick outstretched his arms imploringly to the group who heartily agreed.

 

 

 

 

THFWS&TTM’s: After the Reception

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Celebration, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Drug Experience, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Escape Velocity, GROUP MARRIAGE, Imp Of The Perverse, Knowledge, Liason Between Parties, Line Marriage, Long Form, longreads, Love, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much To Good For Children, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sentience, Sexual Action/Adventure, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Id, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Talking Monkeys, The Wisdom, Tsukimono-suji with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 11, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

After the Reception
The rest of the wedding reception was not unlike watching a bullfight with Anastasia as the matador, and Stanley Linderman the bull.
She nuzzled his chest, and he thanked her for the dance, then tried to wander off so as not to seem too anxious, but she was unrelenting and he was grateful for that.
She ran off to get them each a glass of punch, which he initially refused on the grounds that he was “on duty” as Frederick’s “Chaperone” which was a very diplomatic term, but Anastasia surprised him by insisting that his was the non-alcoholic version that resided next to the real punch.
She explained that there were so many non-alcohol drinkers among the Home for Wayward Souls that everyone’s preferences had already been anticipated, including Stan’s.
He first smelled it, then gingerly tasted it before Anastasia finally said “Do I need to send it out for laboratory analysis?” before he shyly drank from it, although he did not finish it.
“I hope you won’t judge me for indulging, but I do like a nice Tanqueray Collins on really special occasions like this. It’s not that I need to drink anything, but it does help me relax and let my hair down when I want to have a good time…of course, I have to admit that although I don’t feel like I want this evening to end…well, it would be nice if it didn’t have to end here…I guess what I’m asking is do you have any plans after you escort your charge back to his dormitory?”
“You don’t beat around the bush much do you?” Stan asked.
“There’s no bush to beat around here honey…but if I have my way, you’ll find that out soon enough for yourself…” she quipped.
With that, Stan blushed furiously as she giggled.
“I’m sorry…I can get a bit forward sometimes…I don’t mean to sound crude or cheap…I just like to avoid the verbal counterpoint that usually gets too predictable…just to keep things interesting…I hope I’m not being too forward….”
There is a thin line between being too aggressive when men like Stan. Fortunately, she had a pretty good idea of the demarcation between just plain slutty and too provocative to ignore.
Stan did not yet know that her husband was also a classified non-entity but he did know that as long as he kept his proper decorum while on the job, she was not likely to take no for an answer, and he was not likely to give any negative responses any time soon.
If you have ever watched someone try to bear-bait a member of the Grenadier Guards or Queen’s Guards at Buckingham Palace, you can get an idea of the banter between Anastasia and Stanley. She is at once both coy and demure as well as enticing and provocative while he tries to pretend to remain unaffected….and he likes it.
Suddenly, Frederick showed up with two pieces of cake for Anastasia and Stan. He acts reluctant at first, but she coaxes Stan by trying to feed it to him, and he is no match for her considerable charms, and takes a few bites from her fork.
What neither of them knows is that Frederick has opened two capsules of The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil over both their pieces of cake.
Anastasia is no stranger to the sacrament, but Stan has never even smoked marijuana before. Shortly after meeting Charles and Suki, she had willingly tried it, and found the experience to be exhilarating and life-changing and has never passed up an opportunity since.
There is no question that it was inappropriate for Frederick to “dose” the pair the way he did, but he already knew Anastasia enjoyed the experience and would not have said no, and as much as Frederick was fond of Stanley, he felt an obligation to free his mind from the chains that bound him in favor of helping liberate his spirit and his mind.
In the case of LSD, Peyote, Psilocybin, Mescaline, Changa, Yopo, or any other number of psychedelic or hallucinogenic drugs this would have been a clear-cut recipe for disaster. The onset of all of those drugs is disturbing, disorienting and generally dysphoric for at least the first twenty to forty minutes before the actual experience begins.
Sometimes there is vomiting. You may feel slightly sick, anxious and confused or even slightly febrile. Your hands may tremble. The onset of most mind-altering experiences is almost never pleasant, even for the zealots that consume them in anticipation of where it will lead.
Such was not the case with the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. From one minute to the next, there is no real interruption of your consciousness…just insight…the likes of which you have never before even considered.
You may suddenly realize that you can now access every experience, every memory you have ever had. Yet everything about your new consciousness seems very normal. No scary monsters, no Gothic foreshadowing, no paranoia. No overload.
You just suddenly realize the way, the methods, and the techniques to achieve whatever you desire. You understand the difference between covetousness and real desire. The difference between what is important and what is not important. The difference between what is true and what is false.
It doesn’t really occur to you that much of anything has changed at all. You just feel more focused and aligned. You recognize the conflicts in your life for what they are and then just as quickly realize what you must do to resolve them, a little bit at a time, as each segment presents itself to you.
No overwhelming tsunami of realization or epiphany. It’s more like swallowing an entire elephant…only one mouthful at a time.
You may be suddenly surprised by the ease with which you anticipate long or complex series’ of events, step by step, or your ability to accelerate your own processes temporarily so as to achieve the effect of slowing down all the actions around you.
No dizziness, no blurred vision or speech, no limbic system depression or anything else to cause you to hesitate to drive a vehicle or vessel, operate machinery. For some, it takes hours or even days to recognize the effects that The Knowledge has on them.
Although The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was an analogue isomer that was a naturally occurring bi-product of one of PharmaCorp’s most recent explorations into a “fourth-generation of anti-depressants, The Knowledge bore almost no resemblance to MAO’s, Tricyclic, or even SSRI’s and SNRI’s.
MDMA (3,4-methylenedioxy-N-methyl amphetamine) is an empathogenic drug that was made categorically illegal in 1985, when the DEA placed it in the Schedule I category, meaning it is considered to have no accepted legitimate legal medical uses. It is commonly known as Ecstasy, X, XTC, or Molly (the form least likely to contain adulterants).
Prior to its demonization, clinical research indicated great promise in the treatment of mild psychiatric disorders and even severe presentations of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Other studies involving learning and perception were similarly encouraging.
Although many people were led to believe it to be dangerous because of its classification within the amphetamine and phenethylamine classes of drugs, it has become self-evident that no major world power would desire its population to be comprised of educated, sophisticated, fully rational, well-adjusted, self-actualized high-functioning adults.
Uninformed, fearful neurotics make the best consumers as they are much more easily led, lied to, and generally bamboozled by commerce, employers and politicians alike.
The first thing Merle did when he began his research for PharmaCorp was to re-arrange the MDMA molecule just subtly enough to shed the amphetamine and phenethylamine classifications.
Had Merle been some street-level chemist trying to dodge the DEA’s bullets, it might have gotten labeled as a designer drug, or copycat, but because of the veil of scientific research (as well as PharmaCorp’s ubiquitous political and economic clout) it managed to fly below the radar of government scrutiny.
Merle had a preternatural ability to visualize molecular structure as well as its anticipated effects. Once Merle discovered the even more dramatic and wide-ranging effects of the bi-product, he additionally “tweaked” The Knowledge to produce over five kilograms of pure product that required less than fifty micrograms to produce desired effects in humans and half that to achieve the level of sentience that Frederick had achieved through repeated doses and treatments.
Initial testing of selected primates that Frederick believed to be trustworthy, intelligent and deserving by virtue of their temperament were very promising, although he clearly was head and shoulders above all the rest, which was speculated to be a result of his genetics by virtue of his hybridization.
Although LSD is notorious for causing drastic visual distortions and outright hallucinations, Psilocybin for instance is much more subtle. You may notice a glow or sheen on certain objects that you never before noticed, or there may be a noticeable fluidity of background versus foreground images which may meld to produce two entirely different visual fields, much like several of Salvatore Dali’s paintings, such as the Bowl of Fruit and Saddleback Hound on the Beach for instance.
Sometimes objects may seem to step out of their backgrounds entirely. Candle flame meditation may also produce similar results, whereas sensory deprivation experiments more closely resemble LSD.
The Knowledge works very subtly and although the degree of visual effects is largely a product of the imagination of the subject, the simultaneity of experiences by several subjects, especially those in separate locations raises the supposition of hallucinations first to possible mass hysteria, and finally plausible alternative realities once enough randomized testing is done to give it the appearance of scientific method.
Kali and Suki, (both witches) needed less convincing in terms of scientific method than Darcy, who had come from an almost entirely clinical background ever since she left her tidewater birthplace. Ash’s agnosticism tended to incline him to more skeptical postulation. Merle and Charles confidently straddled both issues, since they had a family history of mysticism despite their extensive scientific pursuits.
Because Stanley was a realist, an agnostic and a quintessentially pragmatic man, he had learned to keep his whimsical and speculative longing for something more buried deep from view.
His colleagues for instance, knew nothing of his love of Mozart, Debussy, Charles Mingus, or Stanley Jordan, or that he grew up viewing prints by M.C. Escher, Aubrey Beardsley, Salvatore Dali and other graphic artists that his mother admired. His father was an omnivorous reader of everything from Robert Heinlein to Aldous Huxley, J.R.R.Tolkien, and William S. Burroughs, from Carlos Castaneda, to Hunter S. Thompson and Tom Robbins…and more.
Thankfully, although his parents had wallowed in the kind of liberal arts education that has become so déclassé of late; they had avoided visible social protest or involvement in the kind of radical political groups that would have made him a pariah to any three-letter agency requiring a top security clearance.
The seeds of imagination, speculation, whimsy and humor were planted long ago and so very deeply as to be occult to even scrupulous examination. Most people do not realize that any candidate who gets labeled as “excessively acculturated” is likely to be rejected, since free-thinkers often do not respond simplistically or reflexively to orders in the sort of knee-jerk fashion that law-enforcement and military agencies demand. Even the most complex circumstances require blind obedience and clear-cut actions devoid of ambivalence or interpretation.
Most people on the other hand, wouldn’t know higher consciousness if it jumped naked out on an airplane at ten thousand feet wearing a parachute and landed on their faces…well, on second thought, maybe then…because if we can’t feel it in our fingers, face or toes…it may well go unnoticed by even the best of us…(people much better than me I should hope) no matter if you need “something more….” or not, most of us question how the need for it seems to be a question of…well, let’s say “What’s in it for me?” Right?
And the truth is, that as long as we seek to define answers in such terms, the answer would not matter, because you would be highly unlikely to understand the meaning…no offense to anybody in particular. We all have the right to limit and rationalize ourselves in our own terms…of course.
And we all do it as a matter of course; without thought…Exactly.
At least until you come face to face with The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil…because for some reason, eventually even the most rational discourse comes to embrace The Eternally Questioning Mind…voraciously…with no compassion for sentimentality nor sanction for the untenable.
The bleached bones of the ultimate truth…dispassionately neutral to any paradigm, parallel universe or other intellectual concept within the means of anyone with the understanding that the “N+1” is always an option.
And yet as much as your mind leads you to believe you are in a place where there are no philosophical “Axes to be Ground” nonetheless, you hear them squealing in metallurgic orgasms while an old familiar voice reminds you that “Every Day is Judgment Day and Nothing is guaranteed”.
Now if at that precise moment a butterfly, a Buddha, or an aboriginal Eve, for instance were to appear to you in a way that completely distracts you sufficiently to remind you of something so obvious that you can’t explain why you never thought of it before, and that timeless moment washes over you like a wave leaving you feeling forever changed…even if you are counting money, it will come to you on tiptoes, like lovers and assassins alike…then you will know…Something…for Awhile until The Next Time….
Imagine feeling like that and thinking like that without being able to Feel the cause of it…just coming to it all quite naturally, and thankfully so far having come to this place you’ve never been before within your conscious mind all the while knowing that these are parts of serial dreams we have been going through since we were children that we only recognized just now.
The Feeling of Connection. The Great Peace? Someplace where there is not always more? “Nirvana?” Not necessarily, but whatever it is, you will recognize it when you see it…none of it is everything….and none of it is everything….
Now while all this was going on in Stan’s Mind, he suddenly became preoccupied with how clearly he believed he could smell Anastasia’s snatch…he was convinced of it, and it appealed to him tremendously because it smelled so good to him, and he only wondered for a minute why it was that he had never noticed how sensitive his nostrils were.
And he could smell everyone else as well, but he was most attracted to Anastasia’s pheromones…like a heat-seeking missile to the tailpipe of a red-hot jet engine.
And because Stanley Linderman didn’t feel either drunk or drugged he did not recognize this enhanced version of…Exactly…Everything…Sentience as yet unknown or felt. An inescapable collision with beatific consequences that offered no prohibitions so far….
Which was about the time he visualized where and how the three of them (including Frederick) were going to facilitate each of their parts to this screenplay that was forming in his head going from the time they dropped Frederick off until they consummated this opportunity to get to know each other better.
It wasn’t until he started to believe he knew what Anastasia was thinking that he paused for just a moment to savor how blissful this line of thinking was getting to be for him…right up to about the point where he was very VERY VERY certain that what he believed she was contemplating was not anything about which he was likely to ever fantasize…at least not until just now.
And when the only physical sensation you can identify is this wonderfully light uplifting, joyous feeling in your chest you don’t suspect any drugs that you might be inclined to fear if all of this didn’t seem to be the most natural thing in the world during the very best day of your life…so far.
As he admired her face as she spoke to him in a voice that angels would envy, he saw her as all women, according to her nature which seemed to change like a glowing ember in a fire. She was alternately impish young girl, femme fatale, mother of Mata Hari, wizened crone and wicked co-conspirator and others….
She knew very well what this was, so it was just going to have to be up to Stanley Linderman to figure out as much as he could, given that she would be subject to broadcasting her thoughts before very long, no matter how much she tried to hide it…unless…who knows?
It was about that time that he found himself visualizing Anastasia as a very large female feline.

And that is when I Know that I am Glad I am Alive

Posted in Acknowledgement, Confessions of a Mad Philosopher, Escape Velocity, longreads, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, The Liberation Through Hearing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 8, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

And that is when I Know that I am Glad I am Alive

 

It started this evening as I listened to some old familiar songs from way off the beaten path of my life.

The last two months I have been preoccupied with ugly but inescapable truths, like Death, Loss, Illness, and my own mortality. I was suffocating in sorrow, desperate, restless and exhausted.

Suki played a collection of songs that I had not heard in much too long. Not the kind of music you are likely to hear on the radio unless you listen to one of the satellite radio services that I cannot afford.

The irony of the fact that the best music now comes from outer space is not lost on me, but there was a time when music, especially original music from local, nearly unknown artists consumed the lion’s share of my time and interest in the only home I cared to know.

I was constantly broke and nearly homeless, given the fact that I lived in a storage room in the back of my studio, yet I managed to remain oblivious to my poverty or hunger surrounded by my guitars, a piano, all sorts of drums and percussion instruments, a wall of amplifiers and speakers, numerous synthesizers and keyboards, and enough electronics to summons up the music of the spheres.

And then it was all gone so fast that it took my breath away and kidnapped my soul.

As I lay in the darkness the music undressed me of my preoccupations, fears, remorse, or regrets as I lay stateless, feeling lighter than air, seduced by her siren’s song, this time leading me away from the rocks, as well as the slings and arrows and mind-numbing distractions of a life chosen by default.

Music is my muse, my mistress and my ultimate drug. It is the source of most of my inspiration, even my words.

The juxtaposition of chords, melodies, harmonies, intervallic relationships, atonal,  modal, polyphonic,  polytonal and polyrhythmic alike can produce this pull from within my chest that lifts me out of the doldrums; those massive troughs in the highs and lows so deep you have to look straight up to know if it’s day or night as I feel so swallowed up by the impending doom that it does not even affect me any longer, yet out of nowhere I hear a melody in the cacophony of the broadband noise of two jet engines at altitude harmonizing with each other, although no one hears it but me as I breathe in what feels like new air for the first time in my life.

Zing! My brain is exhilarated and accelerated to Escape Velocity and suddenly there is hope, and love and enthusiasm coursing through my chakras like electrons jumping orbitals to each higher layer as renewed life and energy fills my body once again.

There is a grace in my fearlessness as I embrace the music I hear everywhere coming from nowhere in particular, and yet nothing can surpass the awe and wonder of old songs long forgotten.

And then I realize that I have already heard enough great music to fill my every waking moment for years non-stop with no repeats, devoid of even mediocre run-of-schedule radio crap or advertising jingles…music so wonderful it brings me to tears of joy and gratitude for having heard it.

I have been gathering that music for years…now it is time to put it to good use on my computer, my phone and my I-Pod like an arsenal of weapons wielded by an army of friends.

Enough music to drown out anything I don’t want to hear…like inane drivel from soulless half-witted supervisors with room-temperature IQ’s and no imagination who fear everything they don’t understand…or gossip, or the re-telling of some episode from a television series I didn’t want to watch in the first place.

As I recall the elation I experienced the first time I heard music by King Crimson, Hendrix, Jeff Beck, or Debussy, Todd Rundgren, Eric Satie, Dream Theater, Stephen Trask, Charles Mingus, Frank Zappa, or Joe Zawinul (and so many others whose names escape me in this moment of bliss) I also realize how much new music is just out there, waiting to be discovered like new lands or distant planets as yet unvisited.

Then I recognize how I have unknowingly cultivated this fear, this idea that bliss is allowed only so often in one’s life, but after realizing the low dark place from whence those fears come, I realize I am ashamed for not insisting on more and better music all along as I find the resolve to put my highest intentions to paper, so to speak, even if the thoughts and ideas that spring from my brain’s fingers are now more like a flash of light. No typewriter or paper…a figure of speech replaced by binary code and digital laser impulses.

No need to make Good or Bad or Evil or Beautiful or Ugly…just look with the eyes of detached compassion, non-judgmental admiration and fearless affection and you will see all exactly as it is.

,,,and it all started with just a song….

These old, tired eyes and ears see and hear Beauty everywhere once again when I realize I don’t have to make Ugly…it’s all a choice.

Even without an instrument, I will always be a musician, just as without canvass, brushes, pens, cameras, or other implements I will always be an artist so long as I have ears with which to hear, eyes with which to see, and a heart with which to love.

And that is so much more than just feeling alive…it is the empowerment to know how to accomplish my own resuscitation.

…and to think it all started with a song….

 

 

 

 

 

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