Archive for the Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction Category

A NEW DILEMMA FOR A NEW GENRE*

Posted in Acknowledgement, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, gratitutde, inspiration, Once in a Blue Agave Moon on March 14, 2021 by dreamlanddancing

*ALL REFERENCES TO ANY PERSONS CONFIRMED STILL LIVING IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL…AND THE DEAD ARE TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.”

The genre: ‘ENHANCED AND FORTIFIED NON-FICTION’ was birthed when I began writing the eponymous ‘Dancing in Dreamland.’

Usually, the names were changed, or references to specific municipal agencies were obfuscated so as not to reflect negatively upon any number of characters or actors (including myself) because of severely inappropriate behaviors, and in some cases serious felonies, some of which could have resulted in revocation of my paramedic certification in Florida, or worse.

Well, the statute of limitations has run out on most of it, I still use a nom de plume for any other number of other reasons…most especially, because ALL THE STORIES WERE TRUE! 

I have been retired from Emergency Medical Services for a number of  years, although I still work in yet another, completely different field.

I believe that it was Thoreau who wrote: “In dealing with Truth we are Immortal” (I believe it because it is inscribed in stone over the entrance to the Indiana Sate University Library and I read it often any time that I crossed their quadrangle.)

I also read somewhere that where truth is concerned, the more convinced you are that something shouldn’t be published, the more likely it is that it should.

(I’m paraphrasing)

So then there’s that.

But Blue Agave Moon, my current labor of love, is more Sci-Fi, or Fantasy insofar as what I am writing is more of a prophesy of events that I believe are in fact, inevitable, as far as world events and politics are headed.

The details of some aspects may be different, but the results are what make it most interesting to me.

The work was started over five years ago, and recent events have further convinced me that my prophesies are coming true even sooner than I expected, and in fact, my writing was lagging.

When I began this work, aside from the back-stories, I decided to use real characters whom I had personally known, as if I was casting them for a part in a screenplay. There are any number of other reasons for redaction wherever possible, however, innocent or guilty ‘It Rains on the Just, and the Unjust Alike….’

Sadly, two of those characters are no longer alive, with no next of kin to read it, let alone object to it.

For several other reasons, I have tried to find out how to contact the third character for many years, but because my search methods were less than perfect, it was to no avail.

Two months or so ago, almost by accident, I found her, or at least I think that I have found her. I would love to be able to get a release, or whatever…hell, royalties if such an outcome is even a possibility.  

I was not at all surprised to discover that she is, let’s say ‘moderately famous’ within the region of the country in which she lives, but it is a very common name.

Some of the salient details in her bio do not match, or are conspicuous in their absence. Hmmmmm….

I can fully appreciate why she would not want to be associated with me, or any number of my activities, proclivities, and perversions, especially back then.

Of course, my ‘pen name’ is a fictitious, possibly facetious characterization of the author, and many of my alter egos have been characterized in all three works, in one way or another. We say we seek the truth…but do we really?

Kurt Vonnegut once advised: ‘Never hesitate to see how badly you can torture and hurt your main character’ (or words to that effect) which of course is Elliott, one of my ‘alts.’

I had to reach deep inside myself to construct a character made of most of my own worst personality defects, during a certain period of time so as to justify his despair over the realities of various temporary circumstances that are supposed to hurt him, possibly permanently, unless he sees the error of his ways, and chooses true Dharma action.

When I saw her picture, however, it brought a tear to my eyes.

She also has several podcasts available through the local NPR affiliate, and once I heard her voice, I knew it was her…at least I thought that I knew.

She is still beautiful; those features unique to her looks are unmistakably still present, and her personality and character shine though…at least so they would appear to me. 

She was, without doubt, the single greatest love of my life until I met Suki, the mother of my children and my own worst critic….(fact is, she now can barely stand the sound of my voice, if not my breathing).

I have been known for having that effect on women…eventually; some sooner, some later.

I fear it’s more than just the isolation of the pandemic….

I’m not asking for sympathy. I wouldn’t have the right to, since I do seriously believe that I have undoubtedly the best luck and the shittiest judgement of at least a significant portion of the Northwestern region of this Hemisphere. 

I regretted having lost touch wth her for so many years.

Keep in mind, that when we parted and went out separate ways, there was no real animosity; only my stupidity (she would know what I mean) and many years to regret it ever since.

Besides, she and Suki would have gotten along famously, (if only Suki and I still did…).

It was always the third (the triad) that never worked out for us for very long (in either case).

Five years ago, after I started ‘Blue Agave Moon’ I realized that she was the perfect character actress to play the part of one of the principles, so I created a caricature of her personality set in a futuristic plot.

Some of the characterizations were taken in the context of her own self-satirical viewpoint back then. She was usually the smartest and the funniest person in the room.

I took five years to properly do justice to this characterization and keep it true to her character.

And of course, a part of me hoped that she would appreciate the character that she had inspired me to create. She was the sort of person who deserved to be characterized by virtue of her beauty, intellect, fearlessness, and amazing sense of humor.

She had been my muse.

I took her to gun ranges, and she was a dead shot from the start, a real natural.; she loved loud music and was one of my biggest fans. She made it a joy to perform in public. No matter what, she never backed down. We did everything together. She was one of the most generally fearless people that I ever met.

Yes, of course I seriously considered changing the name, most especially since I may have discovered her again, and at least spare any risks of epithets or litigation.

Any sane person would… but Romance-whores like myself are quite a different breed.

But…her last name is also (possibly one of many aliases) that were used by another, very famous character in the novel, for whom I had also known and cared deeply.

And although they were not, and in fact there is no way that they could be in any way related, their characters would have fit together (minus the chronology) perfectly In My Perfect World as…’twin sisters of different mothers and fathers.’

But sadly, Rebecca is no longer alive, (but was very famous), although I could (and did) build a near-perfect conspiracy-theory style case for establishing that it was not her that was autopsied by the coroner, and good reasons why it was good for her that the world believed that it was.

It certainly makes for a good story, as the lines between fiction and non-fiction as well as the living and the dead, become more and more blurred. Both women inspired me, and they deserve credit, if not adulation.

All of those women that I knew and loved so very long ago were beautiful, brilliant, wickedly funny. and extremely talented.

And if by now, it’s not obvious why such a ‘Romancaholic’ like myself would be so captivated by the ‘backstory,’ well, then maybe I’ve just been quarantined for too damn long.

She was “the ex-wife I never married.”

And, to quote Woody Allen from a movie I don’t even remember…”I’d like to bake a cake in her honor.”

(She would remember the reference.)

So Please indulge me in this disclaimer… (In Blue Agave Moon, I have been recently adding:) ALL REFERENCES TO ANY PERSONS CONFIRMED STILL LIVING IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL…AND THE DEAD ARE TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.”

Watch ‘Deconstructing Harry’ and you will understand how a writer suffers for his art, but eventually finds redemption, and in fact utilizes his acquaintances, lovers, adversaries and advocates alike to well…I keep going back to my references to ‘Enhanced and Fortified Non-Fiction.’

It just makes perfect sense to me.

It allows a severely damaged, far-from-perfect malaprop to dream of a place called “My Perfect World.”

So now that (I hope) you can understand that the backstory is about  a writer who, in the midst of a manic-depressive meltdown, five years post experiencing several realizations, illuminations, and visionary revelations during a planetary convergence of remarkable magnitude and infrequency also comes to grips with his unfinished karma and finds himself overcome with nostalgia over what an incredible amount of good fortune it was that he should have ever have had the chance to even breathe the same air as her.

They went their separate ways, but he never really stopped loving her, and wished he could in some way write a testament to not only his regrets, but also his gratitude.

(I wonder if someone can make that kind of grand gesture to real, visceral Romance and not sound creepy, or come off like a dangerous stalker?)

I just don’t know if there’s any better way to express that kind of a feeling. A fruit basket just won’t do it, and still I wonder…is it her?

My poem ‘Apologia’ was written largely as a tribute to an era that we both knew that was nothing short of extraordinary, and she and I had been central to it, along with others who were also written, albeit very thinly disguised, into the novel as well.

The idea of a plot involving a reunion, decades later, at ‘the end of the world as we knew it’ of dashing, swash-buckling alter-egos of ourselves was just too much to pass up.

All I needed to do was to create a ‘slightly’ redacted version of the names of the only two living characters…(the woman from Arizona has been my friend for longer than anyone else I have known, and we still keep in touch.) 

She occasionally reads my posts, and you may have noticed that there is no last name listed for her, and she hasn’t expressed any complaints, at least so far.

‘Chianna’ is an alter-ego of a former dear friend.

So as I post this, I’m holding my breath; will she acknowledge this fawning homage, and if she does, will she object?

Ah! Romance!

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

copyright  ©  March 13th, 2021  

Fish swim with the tides, in and out of the lagoon as it empties itself, receives from, and flows back into the sea.

*ALL REFERENCES TO ANY PERSONS CONFIRMED STILL LIVING IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL…AND THE DEAD ARE TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.

Once in a Blue Agave Moon: One Nation Verboten (A Nation of Pricks)

Posted in Crazy Zen Wisdom, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Observations of a Recovering Buddhist, Once in a Blue Agave Moon on March 6, 2021 by dreamlanddancing

This was originally published ~ 5years ago; with minor changes, due to some unforeseen events, it is identical.

(I hope this will act as a way to introduce the synopsis and get us back up to speed)

THE BELOW-LISTED QUOTE IS OVER 100 YEARS OLD!

“As democracy is perfected, the office represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. We move toward a lofty ideal. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart’s desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.”

(H. L. Mencken, writing for the Baltimore Evening Sun on 26 July 1920)

Although this quote was written many years before, it was not until the election of George W. Bush to the presidency that it seemed that indeed, the ‘chickens had finally come home to roost’ and Mencken’s prophesy had in fact been fulfilled,

This was followed shortly thereafter by a change in the economy from the first (inherited) budget surplus in almost one hundred years into a seventeen trillion dollar deficit, and the near-collapse of the American, and eventually, World Economies whose bailout was carried on the backs of the working Middle-Class to protect the privileges of those whose short-sighted greed and excess had caused it.

(It would have been far cheaper and more logical after all, to put the bankers and the legislators who abetted them in jail, buy the houses from the banks at cost, rather than at their added ballon-payment interest rates, and let the people pay back the same government that would have saved the bankers, rather than their homes, for instance.)

But of course, the nationalization of that much real estate to do something effective to aid our own people and save the economy without regard to the protection of a corrupt group of privileged insiders would undoubtedly end up being labeled as ‘Socialist’ and we have already been conditioned to hate even a little potential Communism far more than an endless amount of Corruption.

But it wasn’t until the election of 2016 that perhaps the most sinister aspect of that predication, which had somehow gone unnoticed, became glaringly apparent, although it is in the first, not the last sentence that our doom was prophesied.

“…As democracy is perfected, the office represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people…”

It took the mind of an only marginally intelligent or sane home-grown political strategist who had built his fortunes upon treachery, lies, smoke and mirrors, emotional drama, blackmail, dis-information, denial and fraud, being totally without any scruples, and little substance to mange to become a culture-hero able to align and rally paranoid, anti-intellectual religious simpletons, racists, jingoistic xenophobes, misogynists and most businessmen into one unified voting body politic in order to get himself elected to the presidency of a country so full of angry, fearful, superstitious and mean-spirited pricks that his victory was guaranteed long before the first ballot was cast.

And “the plain folks of the land will reach their heart’s desire at last….”

(Even if only by being at best considered by too many who saw him as ‘the lesser of two (d)evils.’)

Given the choice between even a nominally intellectual or educated usurper of the will of the people, with her own history of fraud, lies and deceptions who at least preached tolerance and understanding, and a clearly unbalanced billionaire and emotionally retarded snake-oil salesman: (during the first election)

…Always bet on large groups of stupid people to do the bidding of the sort of cynical crook who will convince them of things he himself does not believe, but thinks they are ignorant enough to accept.

…Always bet on those charlatans to channel the hatred, fear, and resentments of those so enslaved by their own beliefs that they profess to even love their collars and chains; who will do no end of evil at his bidding and surrender the very rights they profess to love, to protect what they are allowed to call their freedom.

…To never underestimate the potential for the tyranny of evil men to prevail.

(After all, many, if not most of the entire animal kingdom will go so far as to kill or even eat each other under the right circumstances allowed by their respective tribe or pack, much like what humans call ‘Justifiable Homicide.’)

Animals however, rarely kill anything they don’t eat, (except for the males, whenever mating rights or territory are involved), often do not eat their own species and they don’t have to hate their dinner in order to kill or eat it.

It should not have surprised the Liberal/Intellectual Left-Behinds that no matter how blatantly false or illogical the pronouncements and actions of this Mussolini-esque harlequin, no matter how loud their protests or indignations (as well as those of the rest of the world), nothing changed amongst his supporters, who managed to keep him in a semblance of power, even after being defeated by over seven million votes, yet seemed as ubiquitous as Christ on the Cross, Mickey Mouse, and Coca-Cola.

He still controlled the Republican Party.

A (dubiously self-proclaimed) billionaire, who inherited his father’s fortunes, lied about his taxes, his net and gross worth, lost (his investors) money and defrauded the general public anytime he could get away with it, fit the classic paradigm of a spoiled (allegedly adult) child, whose tantrums and vindictive retaliations became almost as legendary as his nearly half-billion-dollar indebtedness, or his cruelty.

His vulgar displays of abuse of power, his blatant racism, jingoism and xenophobia were the very things that endeared him to over 40 per-cent of the American population…a nation of  mean-spirited pricks.

…And their anger, hatred and fear was as vast and unlimited as the Pacific.

NOW COMES THE PROPHESIES…(After the second election):

Regardless, no mater which candidate you supported, you were convinced that somewhere between forty-three and sixty percent of the rest of the population was completely bat-shit crazy; from superstitious conspiracy-theory zealots to shaming, finger-wagging elitist liberals.

Then, suddenly, eighteen months after his defeat, in the middle of what promised to be the mother of all last stands of liberal opposition, determined to prevent his re-election in 2024, in the midst of what would prove to be the Era of Pandemics, within three days time, first the five Federal Reserve Banks were destroyed and rendered radioactive by terrorists for almost purely psychological purposes, and then The Armageddon Computer Virus drained the world banking systems of all of their collective assets, and finally rendered the entire Internet, as well as any and all computers connected to it useless.

Much like Stuxnet, it contained many interlocking Zero-Day vulnerabilities and Doomsday self-destruct sequences targeting not only the computers themselves, but also any equipment connected to or controlled by it.

In a world devoid of either computers, Faith, or Money, the infrastructure of the Western world collapsed in less than a week, with no police or troops to control the riots or looting, and no firemen to put out the flames or paramedics to take anyone to the failed hospital systems.

No public safety, public or private schools, electricity, clean running water, solid waste treatment plants, mass transit, grocery stores, or mass media, but plenty of mass hysteria.

No Social Security. No unemployment compensation or disability checks. 

No public dole of any kind.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before the natural ascendancy of self-determination, ruthless pragmatism, life-sustaining skill-sets, and as always, blind luck and questionable circumstances would produce the leaders, movers and shakers, producers and reapers of the boundless opportunities created by way of mass economic re-distribution, but it would be an agonizingly long time at best.

And maybe…just maybe for the first time since the beginnings of recorded history, it would not be determined by wealth, position, social status or privilege, inherited aristocracies or fortunes, sex, race, religious, or ethnic affiliation…at least not at first.

(Keep in mind, it’s not so much that human nature was changed all that much, but it would of course, take time to establish who’s gang was the most powerful; even if only for the fleetest blink of a second, that field was leveled long enough to provide a window of opportunity for the truly smartest and the fittest to not only survive, but flourish and thrive….)

This is the type of self-determinism that would have given Robert Heinlein an erection (were he still alive) while he tried to use ‘the present state of affairs’ to explain to the ghost of Ayn Rand the paucities of Objectivism, now that Reverse Evolution had been stopped dead in its tracks.

In the blink of an eye, the perspectives of nearly every living human on the planet changed, although generally in proportion to just how much privilege they had lost.

Americans, the most pampered and spoiled of all, went from whining about pay raises, real or imagined sarcasms, their feelings of low self-esteem, their endless blame-shifting and refusal to accept responsibility for their own present circumstances,  feeling unappreciated or undervalued, or the insensitive remarks of anyone in general, to being genuinely thankful for not being killed, raped, and/or eaten, let alone worrying from where their next meal was to come.

They had taken so much for granted for so long that they forgot:

> how good it is just to not be a part of the food chain, or what it takes to be a real top predator.

> what it’s like to be totally dependent upon and responsible for their own thoughts and actions to determine the length and quality of their lives.

> that nothing is either forgiven or forgotten, much less guaranteed.

> that you do not require forgiveness for Sins invented and created in someone else’s image.

> that only your family, clan, or tribe will be there to pick you up and help you get back on your feet when you fall…if you are lucky.

> …the rest will only be there to pick your pockets and bones.

> that every day is Judgement Day.

> that no amount of money will replace the memory of your everyday lives as your family grew up and you grew old, or the fact that you learned to value it too late.

> what they gave up when they traded their lives for money, and their Instincts for Reason.

> that they don’t have to ask permission, apologize, or face denial of their rights of freedom and movement to pursue their desires.

Yes, undoubtedly, most people in very poor health would not suffer for very long, with no money to be made by keeping them alive like vegetables on a farm, or by planting them elsewhere for longer periods in smaller, far more expensive patches of real estate with only lawn maintenance to be factored.

Yes, it was also found to be true that many of the diseases and maladies of their artificially increased lifespans were induced by a lack of exercise, bloodless violence, stress, and thankless pursuits of objectives completely removed from their own activities of daily living, perhaps even giving credence to long-debunked myths about how your conscience somehow punished you for your own wrongdoing and its associated, accumulated guilt.

They learned that by eating or drinking too much to try to subvert appetites for other more natural, and life-affirming pursuits, one induces or at least encourages Type II diabetes, liver and kidney failure, congestive heart failure, and hypertension.

…that ‘Only in America’ could a ‘Couch Potato’, let alone a six-hundred pound human incapable of feeding itself exist at all.

…or that no medication can cure the depression caused by the paralyzing realization of the falseness, emptiness, and futility of anyone’s life unless they take arms against the profound paucity of truth, amongst a sea of tormentors and the slings and arrows of outrageous fortunes bred by false desires, ignorance, addictions, and suffering.

And finally, most, if not almost all of the money they became convinced they needed to buy possessions to fill holes in their spirits as big as Existentialism itself was as unnecessary as the imaginary false Hierarchy of the (New) Human Needs by which they had been hypnotized or the long-gone understanding or memory of Maslow’s originals.

They soon realized that lofty ideals alone would not protect anyone, because Enlightenment and Compassion can only stay the executioner’s hand when it is under the control of the victor.

First, one has to survive in order to live long enough to savor one’s existence. Sentience, Enlightenment and Compassion are acquired tastes.

A more accurate modern translation of René Descartes’ original hypothesis might have instead been “I think, therefore I desire that which I do not need, and cannot afford, thereby I suffer in pain, and fear, and therefore I am.”

“God (sic) protect me from all the Good People…especially your followers.” (unk. origin). The depth of their self-righteous hatred, fear and evil knows no bounds.

So much for ‘…the inner soul of the people…’

Be careful what you wish for.

Thanks.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

copyright  ©   March 6th, 2021

Fish swim with the tides, in and out of the lagoon as it empties itself, receives from, and flows back into the sea.

ANY AND ALL REFERENCES TO PERSONS CONFIRMED LIVING IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL (EXCEPT FOR THE REALLY OBVIOUS ONES), AND THE DEAD ARE TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.

Chapter 52:

Posted in Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Once in a Blue Agave Moon on December 26, 2020 by dreamlanddancing

In less than a minute’s time, there was a knock at the door, and indeed, Leigh-Anne and Mordecai were standing outside the guest quarters occupied by Rebel, Aimée, Elliott, and April.

As Elliott let them in, Rebel remarked “Right on time! I guess clairvoyance isn’t that much of a stretch for you, once you’ve crossed over. Am I right, April?”

But it was Mordecai that answered first, despite the fact that no one saw his lips move.

“No it’s not, but also keep in mind that it’s a great deal easier once the five of you turned yourselves into transmitters, for all intents and purposes. ‘The Knowledge…’ is an extremely powerful sacrament; after permanently altering your neurological bio-chemistry, existing neuron pathways are not only strengthened, but new functions of your consciousness and perception are possible.”

“Imagine living in a one-room shanty with no windows or doors, and never leaving until one morning you awake to discover that for your entire life, you had been shut into the basement of a magnificent mansion, with many rooms, each one with several doors capable of connecting you to any other room in the house directly.”

“The ‘wormholes’ described in Einstein’s General Relativity were originally called ‘Einstein-Rosen Bridges’ and postulated that Time and Space could be bent sufficiently to allow instantaneous travel, not only to places far too remote to be accessed in an entire lifetime, but even other dimensions and parallel universes.”

“String Theory, in addition to postulating about resonances and their relation to what determines the parameters of any reality within any given universe outside your own, also suggests that the concept of a ‘Singularity of Time and Space’ does not account for the more likely probability of an infinite series of singularities, each with it’s own universe and time, like soap bubbles adjoining each other.”

“Wormholes would allow passage from one adjoining universe to another. Without them, multi-dimensional travel, or existence would not be possible.”

“Although human physicists have not yet been able to discover the ‘Universal Factorial’ that accounts for and connects the quantum, sub-atomic systems, atoms, molecules, planets, solar systems and universes into a series of continuous rules and transitions, doesn’t mean that they don’t exist.”

“That gap in understanding what connects Quantum Mechanics to General Relativity, Special Relativity, Matter/Anti-matter, Black Holes, Dark Mass and Dark Energy has a parallel within your own mind.”

“You’ve heard references to what people call a ‘Long Conclusion’ implying that the series of thought engrams that had to be traversed by way of Logic and Reason was something like five million dominoes that had to knock each one over the next, in order to go from Postulate to Conclusion.”

“Now imagine the longest formula ever written…suppose you could manipulate that series of characters, like pearls on a string, to bend the last one back around far enough to connect to the first one.”

“That would represent an Einstein-Rosen Bridge, or ‘wormhole’ within your brain.”

“Welcome to the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.”

“Mankind’s worst, and perhaps original mistake was to be tricked into believing that they had to trade Instinct and Romance for Reason, or for that matter, Love for Logic.”

“And to think that I bred my two finest dogs, and delivered you!” Rebel was overcome with emotion, incredulous, yet like a proud parent.

The paradigm shift would have overloaded most people’s coping mechanisms, but she dd not try to over-think anything, so in the absence of contradictions, it “was what it was.”   

“But why me? I treated you like I was your mother…loved you like a child, but…I must have seemed more like a lost soul…or a fool.…”

“That’s why I came here to save you. You balance the equation…the salt against the sweet…the spicy against the mild…the obvious contrasting the occult.”

“You are the catalyst that activates the others. Your suffering will lead you not only to your salvation, but also to that of the others.”

“Each of you has been led here by your individual, as well as collective Kharma.”

Leigh-Ann’s radiance spoke volumes about rapture, illumination, and ‘The Knowing.’

Blissed beyond mere words.

Finally, she breathed what seemed like a sigh of relief. As she bemusedly shook her head, all she could say was “Imagine my surprise…!”

Elliott looked like the deer in the headlights.

“What about Chianna and Jed?” he asked.

“They’re coming…in about five…” April volunteered.

“Five what?” he queried.

“…Four…three…two…One…” April continued.

“Zero!“ (Chianna had already let herself in and Jedidiah was standing behind her.)

“So what did we miss?” Jed inquired.

“I was going to ask you two the same thing.”

Elliott looked like the cat that just ate the canary.

Chianna looked like a joyful canary.

‘The Knowledge’ had leveled the playing field.

No regrets, no recriminations, no accusations, no insecurities.

‘One Mind…no mind…Mind like water…Mu-Shin.’

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

copyright  ©  March 11th, 2021  

Fish swim with the tides, in and out of the lagoon as it empties itself, receives from, and flows back into the sea.

*ALL REFERENCES TO ANY PERSONS CONFIRMED STILL LIVING IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL…AND THE DEAD ARE TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.

What did you do during the Pandemic?

Posted in EMS War Stories, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Keep Coming Back, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, this thing we do with words on December 8, 2020 by dreamlanddancing

I have been gone for so long, that there are probably few people left that even remember me.

Most of my former followers have quit. Few blogs last longer than five years, although I recently celebrated my Eighth Anniversary with WordPress, which for me, is like an electronic writers’ colony.

Also, I am not much of a blogger; I am a writer, and much too selfish to participate in the “blah-blah-blahs of blogging” that Suki, my long-suffering spouse was especially good at doing.

Also, she is a great deal more likable and outgoing, so when she gave up the sport, many of the people who followed me by way of her dropped from the ranks of regular readers.

My pursuits involving “research” for my third novel, “Once in a Blue Agave Moon” and a long-standing bout with depression and mental illness resulted in a most protracted hiatus…

BUT recently, a long-lost associate from the EMS community inquired about my first novel, the eponymous “Dancing in Dreamland,” but when I went to the page that I thought had been loaded there, I discovered that it was nearly unreadable for a long list of reasons…

So I edited it extensively and prepared it for e-publication, which I had procrastinated for far too long.

I was on a roll, so I also edited and prepared “The Home for Wayward Souls and the Talking Monkeys” which is possibly a far superior work.

Both will have a new page of their own, possibly before the end of the evening.

Once I e-publish them, they will no longer be free for the reading, but I have almost no idea how to accomplish this without Suki’s assistance…

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

12/08/2020

Once in a Blue Agave Moon: chapter 38

Posted in Economic Redistribution, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Novel, Once in a Blue Agave Moon, The Tyranny of Evil Men on May 2, 2020 by dreamlanddancing

What is the meaning and value of Money?

With the advent of the repeated pandemics starting in 2020, came an almost crippling downturn of the economy to a point that virtually all working class people were facing bankruptcy, hunger, or worse. 

Long before the Armageddon (computer) Virus took all the virtual money away from the Western Banking System, it became necessary to re-assess the difference between what was of value and what was not.

During the first pandemic, farmers poured out milk, and plowed crops back into the ground as the specter of famine stared  back into their faces in the midst of world-wide shortages elsewhere. Markets closed down; there was no one to transport the goods, and no place to take them.

Meat packing plants had to be shut down because the workers were making each other sick, resulting in animals being destroyed and meat being sent to landfills, because it was too expensive to either feed them or even freeze their carcasses, and no one to do it.

Desperate families seeking some form of relief from food banks often faced shortages and lines several miles long.

For the first time in over one hundred years, “Oil Futures” suddenly went from over one hundred dollars a barrel to being worth less than nothing, as the cost of their storage exceeded their present value when demand plummeted in a world of quarantine and isolation.

In 2008, when the Real Estate and Stock markets tanked, the government bailed out the banks, while the banks foreclosed on their mortgages, leaving entire blocks of homes uninhabited. 

This should have created a renter’s market, but because the banks owned the homes, they let them sit, rot, and develop black mold, eventually rendering them uninhabitable (declaring them as a loss against other profits later to lower their taxes even further), thereby allowing the price of rents to skyrocket.

Because the blatant fallacies of “trickle-down economics” could no longer be perpetrated upon voters, the legislature proposed to infuse the general economy with money paid directly to people who were previously employed, so as to allow them to continue to pay their bills, creating secondary and tertiary effects within the economy as the money changed hands again and again within their own communities.

It just wasn’t enough, because the stimulus packages were just another way for Congress to placate the public, as if to jingle their car-keys to make the baby stop crying while hedge-fund investors sucked up the money supposedly designated for small businesses and the President fired the Inspector General that was supposed to oversee the much larger sums of money allocated to protect industries that needed little, if any protection.

If anything, the Public should have been protected from the major corporations…(as well as the President and his cronies).

It took several more pandemics before those abuses could be identified and eliminated.

No longer would the populace accept believing that whatever fell from the tables of the mega-wealthy was all that they deserved because after all, it was they who performed the labor, marketed and transported, as well as stocked and sold the goods that they in turn paid for yet again to the same system, so as to buy back what they had already produced.

And yet, for every job lost, each new virus created more and more jobs in public health departments, testing laboratories, and manufacturers of anything medically-related.

Anyone who could use a computer to work from home did so.

They were still slaves however, being simply traded from one master to another.

Even small brick and mortar operations found ways to flourish, and servers became delivery personnel, or telephone and internet order takers, or else they suffered the consequences.

For over one hundred years, the culture and economy of the United States was carried on the backs of its workers, not its owners, through numerous World Wars, Police Actions, Interventions, a Great Depression and innumerable recessions.

The American people rose to the challenge, answered the call, performed the duties, made the sacrifices, and all the while the owners reaped the profits.

Eventually, populist politicians managed to convince voters that it was not nearly as important how much the government spent as it was what they spent it on, and how they spent it.

Enough “Trickle Down Economics”. It felt more like “Golden Showers” if you were dependent upon being on the receiving end.

The country had to finally face the fact that it was cheaper to provide the restorative interim money, training and recruitment for its citizens, and let them pay their own bills, so that they didn’t need to fund every major corporation that claimed that it needed life support instead.

Throughout all of that time, the only common thread that ran through all of it was Money.

But what is Money, really? Pieces of paper, denoting the value of some coin of the realm of wherever you happen to be?

Even Atheists believe in Money, despite the fact that the similarities of both belief systems needed Faith to support such a thinly proven existence.

So, if someone works for an employer for X number of hours, the employer agrees to pay them Y amount of money, which is a symbolic representation of what they have chosen for which to sell that particular portion of their Life in the belief that some time in the future, when they need or want to buy something, they can trade some of what they sold their life for to someone who will accept this symbolic representation of value as payment for whatever it is that someone else is trying to sell that they want.

From the earliest times, gold, silver, and precious gems have so hypnotized mankind that they will lie, cheat, forge, fuck, hurt, or even kill to get more of it, or at the very least, some form of symbolic representation of it.

The disassociation created between these symbolic representations of Wealth and Reality is because all the wealth of the entire world is not worth your life, or the time of your days, your desires, and your loves, or ultimately, your consciousness, and the reality that you create within your perceptions.

Now imagine a world where the only real wealth is determined by your ability to manipulate your environment by virtue of your intelligence, your sapience, your strength, determination and perseverance.

A world where you could only keep what you could control and maintain.

No need for money. If you can’t find or make something yourself you can barter or trade something you have or something that you can make or even for your knowledge, in trade for something that you want.

You can’t eat gold; it won’t keep you warm. Silver cannot slake your thirst, even for power, and no one has ever built a house entirely out of precious metals, and the only “shelters” built by them were Tax Shelters.

Same thing for precious gemstones, except that although diamonds are nine times more plentiful than emeralds, their prices were artificially controlled by the De Beers cartel, and the precedents they set have remained for years afterward.

This is the difference between real value and market value.

Of course this is a ridiculously simplistic concept that is baseless within the reality created by Mankind’s infatuation with the Illusion of Value.

But what if one day, you woke up and found out that all of the days of your life that you had traded for virtual Money, suddenly had disappeared into the virtual reality of a now-defunct internet?

And what if the day after that you realized that you had been bamboozled into trading all of your Instincts for Reason when you could have had them both all along?

The perfect atmosphere for Simplicity.

Sometimes it is hard to distinguish Satire or even Facetiousness from Sarcasm.

Sometimes it makes no difference; sometimes there is no difference.

Sometimes all that it needs to do is encourage you to think. 

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

copyright  ©  March 12th, 2021  

Fish swim with the tides, in and out of the lagoon as it empties itself, receives from, and flows back into the sea.

*ALL REFERENCES TO ANY PERSONS CONFIRMED STILL LIVING IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL…AND THE DEAD ARE TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.

PS: After all, in the midst of the perfection of the Garden of Eden, there was no need for money…(and no need to put a mustache on the Buddha either.)

Once in a Blue Agave Moon: Chapter 37

Posted in Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Once in a Blue Agave Moon, Sentience, The Knowledge of Good and Evil on May 2, 2020 by dreamlanddancing

Science/Spirits/Sentience

No matter how logical, or rational, and scientific one considers oneself to be, at some point or another, Science and Spiritualism will put many people into an impasse.

Religion is another matter altogether, given the fact that the majority of the belief system is just that. A system of a series of beliefs.

Faith is what we may or may not choose to believe in the absence of empirical proof.

Then again, eventually, it would seem that even Theoretical Physics, Quantum Theory, String Theory, General and Special Relativity, ad infinitum would have to admit to base its beliefs on things speculated, rather than proven.

Faith is what we may or may not choose to believe in the absence of empirical proof.

Many might try to claim that what they believe in is based on evidence, rather than blind faith.

Usher in Heisenberg and all the corollaries of his Uncertainty Principle, ranging from the bias interjected by the observer to something akin to They became what they beheld.

Even measurement or observation may effect the outcome.

Faith is what we may or may not choose to believe in the absence of empirical proof.

Curved time and space, wormholes and parallel dimensions…well-established theories based upon solid evidence, or wild speculation in a lab coat? You be the judge.

Here’s a really interesting concept: if neither matter nor energy can be created or destroyed, and if whatever it is that animates dead organic matter is a slight, but nonetheless significant energy that is present (some say at the moment of death, that the body loses twenty-eight grams of mass), then what happens to that previously charged, focused energy?

Where does it go? What happens to it?

Can one believe in disembodied spirits (given sufficient empirical data) and still not believe in Elohim, God the Creator of the entire Universe?

Faith is what we may or may not choose to believe in the absence of empirical proof.

One of the definitions of both insanity and addiction is to repeat the same action over and over again, expecting different results, yet both in the theories of evolution as well as quantum theory, it is postulated that given enough time and repetitions, eventually there will be a mutation or variation in some part of the process that will result in either a quantum leap in Evolution, or any number of postulations about Chaos Theory.

The origin of the Universe, the Big Bang, the ability of sub-atomic particles to be in two places at the same time, or two particles in the same place at the same time and even the existence of altered realities of parallel universes that do not adhere to the rules of all physics as we know them today are nonetheless Theories.

It is generally believed that there have been numerous “Life-Ending” events that have occurred in the history of the earth, but Life keeps returning.

Some speculate that what mankind believed to be their Gods were in fact “Ancient Aliens.”

Faith is what we may or may not choose to believe in the absence of empirical proof.

Today, Jed, Aimée, Rebecca, Leigh-Anne Chianna and Elliott would have to face beliefs that they hadn’t even known that they possessed, as well as revelations, epiphanies, insights and observations of phenomena, events, thoughts and long-forgotten memories woven into a common consciousness of essentially simultaneous inference.

They would See, Hear, and Feel experiences not possible without The Fruit  of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, but even their belief in the reality of it all was based upon everything that they had ever learned or been taught to believe about their ability to draw logical conclusions based upon evidence exhibited to them.

Because hallucinations are not the same thing as the Insight, Intuition, and Imagination sufficient to observe and assimilate perceptions occult to those who had not experienced The Knowledge, it would be a mistake to regard it as simply a Drug.

The Knowledge would be more accurately regarded as a Catalyst; something that like an enzyme, unlocked and initiated a chain-reaction that in itself became increasingly self-perpetuating.

Eventually, they would have the opportunity to witness Reason seduced by Romance as Love confounded Logic without the slightest hint of contradiction or conflict.

Jed, Aimée, and Rebecca,  were already familiar with the experience, which seemed to continue to grow and evolve each time they shared it; Aimée and Rebecca were expanding the One Mind/Universal Consciousness connection, effortlessly finessed to an uncanny level.

Elliott, Chianna, and Leigh-Ann’s initiation would close the circle and complete the circuit.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

copyright  ©  March 12th, 2021  

Fish swim with the tides, in and out of the lagoon as it empties itself, receives from, and flows back into the sea.

*ALL REFERENCES TO ANY PERSONS CONFIRMED STILL LIVING IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL…AND THE DEAD ARE TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.

“There are two ways to be fooled; one is to believe what is not true, the other is to refuse to believe what is.”

(Søren Kierkegaard)

Once in a Blue Agave Moon: The Knowledge of Good and Evil: Ch. 17

Posted in Drug Experience, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Novel, Once in a Blue Agave Moon on July 28, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

Chianna had been listening intently to what Jed had been saying, trying to keep an open mind. She gave Elliott the occasional knowing look, and both of them tried not to break Jed’s train of thought.

Aimée, Rebecca, and Leigh-Anne had already excused themselves to go outside to unpack, walk the dog, or wash down the bikes, although it was more of a ruse to allow Jed, Chianna, and Elliott to speak without interruption than anything else.

Once he was finished, she cradled Jed’s open palm that held the blue capsules as she also extended her other hand to grasp Elliott’s. As she spoke, she continually shifted her gaze from Jed to Elliott.

Chianna: “You need to know that I have a basic aversion to psychedelic drugs. I don’t want to see anything that isn’t there. That isn’t enjoyable, in fact, it terrifies me. I am too afraid of flipping out and not being able to handle it.”

“Elliott, as you know is quite at home in that sort of setting, although to the best of my knowledge, it has been a very long time since he has used any really strong psychotropic drugs. I now that you guys used to trip together from time to time back when you were close. I won’t attempt to speak for him on this, but my real question is Why? What is there to be gained from hallucinations?

Jed took a deep breath before he replied. “If we were talking about your garden variety LSD or even Psilocybin, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. As much as I have enjoyed using them, they are not even in the same league as The Knowledge”.

“Merlin, the chemist who invented it, was working for Merrick Pharmaceuticals on a next-generation anti-depressant. He suddenly realized that an analog isomer of one of the bi-products of the drug had some very interesting and unexpected properties which had the potential to re-write the table of contents in the brain in a way that meant that you not only would never forget anything you ever learned, but it encouraged the development of corollary associative neuron pathways that made connections between stored engrams which may not have seemed related in a way that could be useful in discovering answers that you already knew, but did not know that you knew.”

“What followed after that involved tweaking a few more side chain molecules and other changes in the chemical structure that even Merle did not initially anticipate, although continued use of the drug expanded his own comprehension and cognitive powers to an extent that lead him even further along.”

“He also soon realized that it could impart telepathic abilities that were even more enhanced when both parties were under the influence of the drug at the same time, although it was also quite successful in reading the minds of anyone you encountered.”

“But the real breakthroughs came when they gave it to Frederick, a Chimp/Bonobo hybrid who was technically a test animal and the property of Merrick. He was already capable of communicating in American Sign Language, but he began to exhibit cognitive abilities normally only attributed to humans.”

“When they gave it to him, it enabled them to bridge the gap between Reason and Instinct by virtue of what he could teach them…I don’t want to get too lost in describing something that will be instantly clear, once you take it…if you do choose to do so.”

“But it also allowed them to communicate with beings that exist in other dimensions, or parallel universes, if you like. These are beings that are here…everywhere, right now, that we can’t see because of gaps in our perception that become exceedingly clear, once you’ve had the experience.”

“Unlike most drugs, where the ‘thrill factor’ is the sole motivation, this is the most definitive, concrete way I know of to expand your consciousness, your perception, and your understanding of everything you see, everywhere you look. Suddenly, it all makes sense; and you can figure it out for yourself.”

“I won’t try to tell you that it isn’t exciting, or that you won’t want to do it again and again, at least for a while, because it is, in my experience the most exciting thing I have ever done.”

“It is as if everything you see or think about becomes connected, not only in a spiritual way, but physically, even scientifically, if you will.”

“It’s as if you can suddenly perceive the connections and reasons or causes of seemingly random phenomena.”

“Most people refer to something they call ‘insight’ regarding themselves, and their relationships with other people. It’s like being able to observe yourself from outside yourself.”

“Also, the effects tend to be cumulative in such a way that you not only require less and less of the drug to achieve threshold dosing, but eventually, the effects last longer each time.

“At this point, for instance, neither Merlin, nor Ash or Kali, as well as several members of their congregation take it except for very special occasions, like the initiation of a new member.”

“We have all taken it twice before together, and I can tell you we are all changed in a very positive and enriching way that goes so far beyond my abilities to describe it that I could never do it justice.”

“I don’t know anyone else in this world that I…well, that we would rather share this with than you two. This isn’t just some drug…it is a sacrament that transcends religion or any beliefs you may hold about the nature of the universe and our place within it.”

“They call it ‘The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil’ because Ash, the spiritual  of The Home of Wayward Souls compares it to whatever Adam and Eve experienced when they got ejected from the Garden of Eden, but that’s another story in itself.”

“Chianna, I don’t know if you are at all religious, but I do know that Elliott certainly wasn’t when we were last in contact, and I have no desire to join some church and drink the Kool-Aid (or vice-versa), but this will give you a glimpse of something so real, tangible, and finite, as well as something that transcends anything I can put into words that I could not pretend to be your friend and withhold it from either of you.”

“This is truly the most valuable thing I have ever possessed, even though I can get as much as I want of it anytime I want, as long as I am willing to go back down there to get more.”

Chianna did not speak for what seemed the longest of times. She kept looking back and forth between Elliott and Jed. One look at Elliott’s face and she knew his answer. She also knew that is was very easy to keep looking at Jed, even though it had nothing to do with trying to make a decision about whether or not to take the drug…or did it?

There are many times in any, even the best of relationships when a certain paucity of the absolute, unvarnished truth may seem necessary, and we may spend a lifetime trying to rationalize and justify it, even to the point of claiming that kindness, or love somehow motivates our actions.

Many people find it possible to avoid having to address those “necessary” falsehoods via any number of interlocking patterns of denial and obfuscations for an entire lifetime.

But in a lifelong relationship, it can also result in displaced anger, aggression, divorce, murder…maybe even cancer.

Chianna and Elliott loved each other deeply and truly, but not entirely, absolutely honestly…how many couples can claim otherwise?

Chianna knew Elliott had aways encouraged her to be honest and straightforward, without regard for his feelings, and that he believed that even painful realizations should be embraced fearlessly.

She also knew that there were times when Elliott volunteered more information than she cared to know, and she was quick to tell him so, although she sometimes wondered if that had been such a good idea.

Chianna, Elliott, and Jed all knew what was developing, and Chianna knew that The Knowledge would soon make it impossible to ignore. She was fascinated by the concept of taking the drug, based on what Jed was saying, and also knew that it might just make it possible to embrace all of it with honesty and love.

There are no guarantees of anything in this world, but this was beginning to look like a very attractive possibility.

Chianna then surprised them all, (including herself) when she suddenly blurted out “How does it affect your sex life?”

For what seemed the longest time, no one spoke. Finally Jed broke into a grin so wide that were he a cat, the entire canary could have been hidden in his mouth.

“Speaking strictly for myself, and as a man I would say ‘Wonderfully’, …the same as it has everything else I have described so far.

“But if you want to know how it affects women, I would suggest you ask The Three Winds. I am sure they would be more than happy to tell you, but I am also sure they will tell you to take it and find out for yourself…with them.”

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

copyright  ©  March 13th, 2021  

Fish swim with the tides, in and out of the lagoon as it empties itself, receives from, and flows back into the sea.

*ALL REFERENCES TO ANY PERSONS CONFIRMED STILL LIVING IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL…AND THE DEAD ARE TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.

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This is what happens when you put something out into the internet…

Posted in Dancing in Dreamland, EMS War Stories, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Just Plain Weird, N o Escape on June 4, 2017 by dreamlanddancing

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This image seems to have taken on a life of its own.

I was looking for internet images, and found this in a website about battleships….(IDK & IHNFIH)…  Battleships – my 50 english places    studylib.net260 

I also found numerous images that I had used while writing The Home for Wayward Souls and The Talking Monkeys under the Dreamlanddancing image search, as well as a Russian Author at WordPress who uses Dancing in Dreamland as her blog title, but it is written in Croatian, and in no way resembles my site. (Hooray for Google Translate, btw,)

(Before I started my WordPress site, I briefly used the pen-name Jesse Jones.)

My youngest son and I assembled the above cover using photoshop, but to my knowledge, it was never posted anywhere on the internet in this form.

I only used it to print a few writing samples, and then later revised it with my current name, and recently had a devil of a time locating the original image, which had been stored on another computer, and assembled on yet another computer that is now KIA.

Weird, n’est-ce pas?

Chazz Vincent (aka: the ghost of Jesse Jones)

 

Quantum Theory and Infinite Improbability

Posted in Civil Liberties, Crazy Zen Wisdom, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Once Upon a Blue Agave Moon, Uncategorized on February 1, 2016 by dreamlanddancing

 

It has been far too long since I visited these pages…maybe you noticed, maybe you didn’t.
I’m no stranger to the Rabbit Hole…in fact, for me it is more like the Tunnel of Love, considering how much I crave to continue so far into unfamiliar territory that I completely lose track of how to return home.
I remember when I first read Lewis Carroll’s stories. As a child, the idea terrified me…to never be able to find one’s way back, but eventually it became a fixation.
I complete the Rabbit Hole…the Rabbit Hole completes me.
The Rabbit Hole is supposed to trap fools like me with nowhere else better to go.
Who knew Rabbit Holes could turn into Worm Holes?
So if you were one of the ones who noticed my extended hiatus from this site, all I can say is that it was secondary to what I call BBD 101 (Basic Buddhist Doctrine: [the survey course]):
⦁ If you are Hungry, eat.
⦁ If you are Thirsty, drink.
⦁ If you are tired, rest.
⦁ Even Cause and Effect are coincidental.
⦁ If you do not think that your own mind can produce The Poison Thought that can completely unravel your present concept of sanity, then you are not exploring it to your fullest potential.
⦁ Do not fear The Madness; that kind of fearful thinking will just make you crazy.
(OK. OK. OK…I added the last three, based on a series of possibly incorrect interpretations of Quantum Theory, and several long-standing preoccupations.)
So if you find yourself thinking that…“I’m not sure we’re Quantum Physics kind of people around here”…or: “As a recovering Lutheran, I’m not sure that this is going to be any kind of help or consolation”, all I can say is that first of all, we all are, even if we don’t know it, and yes, it won’t be….
I am currently formulating a series of internal dialogues focused upon doing things that either negate or sufficiently distract myself from anything I’d rather not be doing, but nevertheless find myself mired for no real good reason save my desire to live indoors and not eat out of dumpsters.
My plan is not retirement, but more of a lateral move that would allow me to freelance in order to provide sufficient funds to be able to live in the manner I would prefer.
To do that, one has to separate what is necessary from what is not; what is preferred to what would ideally be eschewed; to decide what I really want beyond what I need.
My “Cabin in the Woods” is lavishly opulent compared to Thoreau’s overgrown tool shed On Walden Pond, but all things taken on balance, I probably lack either his dedication, strength of character, or principles, although I have always vowed to escape the “lives of quiet desperation” led by most of my associates.
As always, it is the journey, not the destination that matters most; after all, none of us are going to get out of this alive…so if the pursuit of happiness becomes oppressive, obsessive, or overwhelming, then the chances are you are either on the wrong path, using the wrong methods, or pursuing something other than happiness.
And so it goes that upon reading a post regarding taking action within one’s life, after re-blogging it, I set upon a goal of re-establishing a personal relationship with my first and best muse, which is Music.
She has inspired me, buoyed my spirits, provoked me to thought and action, and protected me like armor against the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” and given me the courage to carry on.
She can be a cool and gentle confidante, a passionately consuming lover, or a cruel mistress, but no matter how far I go or how long I turn my back on her, she gives me what no one else can.
Just one note can captivate my attention no matter how hard I try to pretend not to be distracted. Two notes can transport me beyond this physical plane. The right series of notes, properly phrased and resolved into an unexpected chord or change of key can do things that no drug has ever accomplished for me.
(And believe me, I’ve tried….)
Moreover, the right song, the right lyrics, the right harmonies with the right instruments, and the right singer at just the right time can be as good as the best sex with a long-lost lover that you just met again once in a life time, especially if I am one of the performing musicians in this orgy of sound.
Of late I have found it comforting to surround myself with a circle of protection within a set of earbuds powered by an old i-phone. I currently have almost three days of continuous music of my choice. No matter whether I am at work, in the grocery store, or driving, she is on my shoulder, and in my ears, brain, and soul.
The rabbit hole was Zen. The worm hole was Quantum Theory. Music painted a picture for my ears that showed me my one true face, then took me by the hand to lead me back to my original home.
Zen posed questions with no answers. Quantum Theory teaches us that to even observe the outcome of any possible number of possible phenomena may alter their results; that in a multiverse, all manner of possible outcomes may be occurring at the same time in parallel dimensions.
Somehow, both the paradigms of Zen and Quantum Theory fold back upon each other reinforcing both sentient and logical belief systems while Music alone nurtures my emotional needs in ways that even enhance my ability to love and be loved.
Eventually, anything can happen….
Atoms are as empty and void as deep space, and Dark Matter balances an equation that was nonetheless by necessity unbalanced during the first nanoseconds of the Big Bang; otherwise the whole event would have been an infinitesimally short hiccup of existence cancelled by itself.
No one even knows if in fact just that sort of hiccup may have happened many, many times until the necessary imbalance occurred between matter and dark matter that allowed our universe to unfold and expand.
And it would also seem, that indeed we are each at the center of the universe, no matter where we are or where we go.
Our entire existence was an outcome of infinite improbability, but we had all the time that did not exist before that moment for it to occur, so it was inevitable….
Eventually, in about four trillion years (our time), we will again cease to exist, but there will be no sorrow over it, with no one left to mourn our passing.

“No Matter…No Matter.”
Even absolute nothingness is a very unstable state however, so eventually, something will inevitably come out of it.
(Quantum Theory tells me so.)
“First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is…”
Oh, and BTW: I am currently balls-deep in research for a new novel entitled: “Once Upon a Blue Agave Moon.” As usual, you will see it here first, chapter by chapter as the narrative unfolds.
(And still for free, just like “Dancing in Dreamland”, or “The Home for Wayward Souls and The Talking Monkeys”, due to my inertia regarding electronic publishing.)
It is a story of what I call “Self Determinism”. It will undoubtedly have some sexy parts, but who knows?
In the spirit of “Enhanced and Fortified Non-Fiction” there will be some resemblances to events or activities that may or may not have in fact been either witnessed or participated in or by the author, in the spirit of authentic participatory journalism, but balanced by local, state, and federal statutes, jurisprudence, jurisdictions, and a deep and abiding desire to avoid incarceration while still providing vicarious involvement devoid of risk to the readers as “Entertainment as well as intellectual and philosophical education for and by consenting adults…” (or some such crap).
(Great…Just when most of the statutes of limitations regarding many of the events and activities described in “Dancing in Dreamland” were about to run out….)
I’ve been a bit obsessed most of my life with pushing the envelope regarding Art, Music, Philosophy, Spirituality, Sexuality and Human Behavioral Norms, as well as Civil Rights and Liberties; somewhere between an Anarchist and a Libertarian, I dance on The Razor’s Edge, Between Nothingness and Eternity.
This next novel will be no exception.
Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent
PS: I am deeply indebted to Dr. Lawrence Krauss, Douglas Adams, Lewis Carroll and Henry David Thoreau for the wisdom and inspiration they have provided me. I highly recommend reading all of them.

Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent

01/31/2016

 

 

 

He calls me Goddess, I call him My Pet Pt. II: The Rule of Opposites

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Cuckoldry, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Dominance and Submission, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Erotica, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone on July 25, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

(After many editorial revisions, my muses are finally satisfied with the end result. I very much wanted both of them to be in agreement with the final story, as it was largely their brainchild. I find it fascinating to have had the opportunity to be privy to their collective creative processes, although I am not sure they are completely aligned with the mindset of most women…lucky me.)

The Rule of Opposites

Randy sat watching his computer screen, mesmerized by what he saw on the OoVoo transmission he was receiving from his wife’s computer at the motel where she was meeting her bull.

This was a regular feature of their relationship for the last year now.

After more than two years of doldrums and apathy, their marriage had turned a new corner that was leaving them both vibrant, alive and almost breathless with anticipation of what each new day might bring.

He had to sit up very straight because the leather corset he was wearing squeezed his midsection so hard he could barely breathe, but he loved the way it made his waist look as well as the obvious approval that Sonja showed when she gave it to him.

Already he was beginning to get a slight glimpse of the world of pain and discomfort that women embrace on a daily basis without even thinking.. just trying to type with artificial nails was something most men take for granted.

Randy was the last person you would ever guess to be a submissive sissy cuckold in private life.

He was completely masculine to look at him dressed as a man, and he couldn’t “pass” at a school for the blind, but wearing women’s clothes got him so very hot.

As much as he loved women, he also loved cock, and cross-dressing. Although he had considered himself to be bi-sexual he had never been in love with any man, nor did he desire to ever kiss one on the mouth. He was strictly a “bottom” and loved to swallow cum, but kissing was too personal and intimate.

Swinging had led him to discover how to embrace his jealousy and insecurities. Randy realized that Sonja was more than enough woman for any man and he felt privileged to be her husband. As long as her desires for strictly sexual indulgences with other men allowed him to explore his own curiosities of them as well, he was more than happy to encourage her.

After he recognized the difficulty she had in exploring her powers over men, he also became aware of his fantasies of playing the role of cuckold. She had been very encouraging of his desires for cross-dressing. No one else in his life had ever been privy to that secret side of his psyche.

And so it was that he was led, step by step to his role as a sissy cuckold. He had never felt so liberated in his life. He gladly abandoned his desires for other women in order to be able to experience unconditional support from the love of his life to experience his wildest fantasies fulfilled at the direction of a wife too hot to be limited to one man.

Tonight was going to be a rare treat. Randy’s wife Sonja had recently added a new, very special bull to her regular stable of three. Her ad had stated she required bisexual men with big cocks, preferably circumcised, who were willing and able to satisfy her insatiable desires, which included getting to watch them fuck and humiliate her husband at her command.

Sonja was an Alpha-Bitch to be sure…she called the shots and that was all there was to it. She was a lioness, proud and powerful. She was used to having her way with all the men in her life.

If they got too disobedient, she simply dumped them…just like that. She only allowed Randy into her heart, and even he was more like a pet than a husband, but she loved him dearly and wanted to worship him, but he was weak and passive when it came to her and she knew it. Also, he was now a little too old to really give her the pleasure she required.

Although he experienced powerful and satisfying orgasms, he rarely ejaculated more than a cc or two. Sonja loved to feel the flood of semen either down her throat, squirting inside he pussy or flooding her ass and she missed the sensation despite the fact that she never expressed her disappointment to Randy.

She started to feel guilty that she only allowed men into their circle, but Randy, seemed to be fine with it. She almost wished he hadn’t…that he would stand up for himself and be a real man, but he finally felt vindicated from having to compensate for all his perceived inadequacies or for letting Sonja down.

He no longer had to pretend to be anything other than exactly what he always knew himself to be. Sonja had a new vibrance to her demeanor and seemed like she couldn’t stop smiling because she had a secret that she shared only with the true love of her life.

Then she met Jake. He was hetero-only. No exceptions, and he didn’t take orders from anyone…not even Sonja.

He was best friends with one of her favorite bulls, Dustin, and it was he who had suggested they meet.

All of Sonja’s bulls were circumcised. She considered it to be a prerequisite to even do an interview. When she had lunch with Jake for his interview, he insisted he pay for both their meals. She was so charmed by his appearance and personality that she forgot to ask if he was cut, but an hour later at the motel (for which he also insisted that he pay) she realized her error.

For the briefest of moments, she thought about apologizing for her mistake and leaving, but once he was fully erect, she decided to give him a chance…just this once. After all, Randy was at work and did not even know she was interviewing that day.

He had encouraged her to have an occasional “fling” with whomever she pleased, sometimes not even telling him for weeks…just like an affair. It made him crazy with jealousy, which she had quickly learned just enhanced his devotion to her.

Randy adored the foreskin of uncut cocks, but that was not even a question for Sonja, and she did not intend to seem to vacillate on this issue…but she told herself, it was probably just going to be this one time only.

What fascinated Sonja was how otherwise perfect Jake’s tool was.

She advertised for “long, thick and meaty” and Randy’s penis was as thick as her wrist when erect. (Several of her interviewees who were even thicker had left her sore for days afterward.)

Randy loved the way her cunt would come back wet, swollen and distended, but what Sonja desired most was length.

As girthy as Randy was, he was only a little short of seven inches, and her best previous lovers were usually longer. Randy was a skilled and sensitive lover, but sometimes she longed for the extra length.

She even bought him a three-inch penis extender sleeve, which she sometimes told him to wear, but he was not especially tall and did not seem to be able to get exactly the right angle she preferred to hit that little pocket at the end of her pussy way past her g-spot above her uterus.

Jake was just slightly thinner than Randy, but about eleven inches long…soft. He did not get too much longer when he got hard, which took about two minutes as they stood there talking as he continued to undress both of them.

As his already large penis continued to get more erect, she watched the foreskin slide back until it almost completely disappeared, although it left a rather prominent ridge about a half-inch ridge behind his very pronounced corona. She decided she might have to rethink her original ideas, at least as far as Jake was concerned.

She decided to show off by demonstrating why Randy had nicknamed her “the sword swallower” by completely deep throating him without so much as a single gag.

She learned early on in her life that she had no gag reflex and loved the sensation of being throat-fucked just a little more than her enjoyment of seeing the amazement it invoked in all those privileged enough to witness or experience her remarkable talents.

Jake was also quite impressed.

Sonja had kept her affair with Jake a secret for over two months despite the fact that she couldn’t wait to tell her husband. The suspense was incredible and when Randy finally did learn of her newest discovery he was overcome with excitement, although he was also disappointed when he learned he was completely straight, but even that excited him just a little more….it was something that would be out of his reach, invoking the longing for something he could not have.

Jake was tall…over six-feet two inches, lanky and very strong, and ten years younger than Sonja. He loved to be the object of a cougar’s grateful obsessions, and in fact, preferred older women. They seemed to have a worldly and slightly used quality that he found attractive. The effects of gravity, time and even childbirth were very attractive to him.

He was also the handsomest man Sonja had ever had the pleasure to fuck. Randy was decidedly very “easy on the eyes”, but Jake could have been a model if only he had been a lot shallower and less bright. Besides he had inherited money and was very good with it, so he had no need to whore himself out just for his looks.

That first encounter had left her trembling, wet, and breathless. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so expertly fucked.

Although Randy had suspected there was something brewing just by the condition of her vagina on the days she had been with Jake before he got home from work, he trusted her to tell him all the dirtiest details of her naughty adventures in due time.

And when he cleaned her pussy as he dutifully did every night, she was still so full of cum that he knew something new was afoot. Even hours after their encounter it just flowed from her pussy like a flood as she straddled his face, and her panties were always soaked. It was also thicker and saltier than he had tasted before.

And there was no mistaking the taste of a recently well-fucked cunt and Randy was learning to be quite the connoisseur.

As so, Sonja’s first crush since she had married Randy began.

As Randy sat in full drag, he was wearing make-up and a wig in front of his computer with a very large butt plug up his ass that Sonja had just bought for him and she insisted on shoving it into Randy before she left.

He was forbidden to take it out until she returned from the impending fuck-fest. He was also forbidden to cum, and had no desire to violate her command…he loved the edgy tension it created, and the longer he was cuckolded, the more he craved release.

Sometimes because of his cuckolding, he would just ooze a few cc’s of semen (which was more than he usually produced in a normal ejaculation without prostate stimulation) and when Sonja had forcefully jammed the new even larger butt-plug up into his grateful asshole, a small stream of cum flowed from his cock, which Sonja immediately made him lick from her feet.

Randy was as exhilarated by Sonja’s infatuation with Jake as she was, but she seemed more conflicted about the luxury of allowing herself to acknowledge it.

What Randy saw was a woman revitalized and renewed; a woman who still needed validation and recognition from someone outside her marriage. She loved Randy dearly and was devoted and loyal within the considerably wide boundaries that they had already set.

It had been Randy who had initiated the new adventures that they had been pursuing and although she had initially indulged him in this as a pursuit of his fantasies he was excited to see the fruition of what he had hoped for all along, that she should experience her current situation guiltlessly and enthusiastically.

This would be the first time he would get the privilege of even seeing Jake and he could hardly wait. He was dying to know what was the source of her new-found infatuation…the first he had ever witnessed since they had met, so many years before.

Suddenly, Jake burst into the room. He walked up to her and picked her up as he kissed her deeply and passionately. Randy was slightly shocked to witness her passionate reciprocation. Usually it was never more than a quick tongue-kiss, but he liked what he saw almost as much as she obviously did.

He loved and trusted her enough to allow her this. He always seemed to enjoy her pleasures even more than she would allow herself to admit, but this was something new and he sensed her excitement and passion.

Jake had forbidden her to even allow Randy to watch them on camera until today, and Randy was as aflutter as a sixteen-year old schoolgirl as he witnessed the event.

Sonja then very deferentially unzipped Jake’s pants and pulled out his enormous cock before he could get hard just so Randy could see that he was in fact uncut, with a full coverage of his very large head.

She then announced that he should go into the bathroom and wash up, as she had no intention of knowing what his smegma tasted or smelled like as she winked to the camera.

Jake came back naked shortly afterward and announced (also obviously for Randy’s benefit) that he had pissed, but that she would have to skin it back and taste him just as he was…several hours since his last shower.

With that he pushed her to down to her knees and forced his still-flaccid member into her mouth. Randy could not believe what he was seeing. As he watched her greedily take his cock into her mouth he thought just how uncharacteristically submissive she now was…how she seemed to welcome this domination of his femdom wife.

He felt more jealous of Jake’s beautiful glistening tool than of her change of character. It was definitely longer than anything he had witnessed her to experience, and only once before, when he was in his twenties had he seen such a long cock in person.

That was long before he had even allowed himself to acknowledge his homosexual desires, which he had rationalized as being the result of drugs, despite the fact that he kept coming back for more.

It was with a friend he had known for several years who was a coke dealer for the Medellin Cartel in Miami…he tried to tell himself it was for the coke that he kept returning, and he never acknowledged any of the occurrences and neither did Miguel. Both were professed heterosexuals, but it was always Miguel who initiated Randy’s willing surrender.

It was then that Randy realized, but never acknowledged to himself, that he was a submissive bottom. Miguel however, was much thicker than even Randy, who could barely walk for days afterwards. And yet he kept returning any chance he could, and Miguel became bolder and more aggressive each time they met.

Neither of the men ever acknowledged their sexual explorations with each other either before or after they happened. It was as if it had never occurred.

Today would seem to last forever. This was the first Saturday that they had gotten together, and he sensed that Jake was intent on putting both Randy and Sonja in their respective places as far as Jake’s position of power over both of them.

Randy counted five successively longer orgasms from Jake, but he lost track of how many times Sonja came. It was obvious that she was completely at his mercy and she clearly loved every cum-drenched minute of it.

It was also the first time he had ever seen her receive anal, other than a few somewhat awkward attempts he and Sonja had tried over the years. She clearly did not enjoy receiving as much as Randy did and whenever he pressed her for it she immediately would peg him until he begged her to stop, only to continue until she was satisfied that her dominance was once again clearly established.

It wasn’t until then that he felt a twinge of jealousy within himself, but he gratefully accepted how it made him feel…gratefully alive and more in love than ever.

There was nothing he would not accept about Sonja. The more she pushed him, the more he embraced it.

She did not return until after dawn. She was clearly apprehensive about Randy’s reaction, but she bore a look of radiance he could not begrudge her. After all, it only made him more grateful to witness her unbridled joy and ecstasy, and she clearly felt even more in love with her new sissy submissive cuckold husband.

Although she was too swollen and exhausted to make love to Randy, she gladly agreed to straddle his face long enough to greedily lick, suck and swallow the seemingly endless flood of cum from her now flaccid, ruined cunt.

He tried to be gentle. He knew she was only doing this for his benefit, at least for now, until she had about ten hours of sleep. Before she showered, she reeked of semen, even her hair…it seemed to ooze from her pores,

And Randy loved every drop of it, as well as the smell of sex that permeated her being everywhere as much as the grateful look of satisfaction that she tried so hard to disguise.

No matter what she did from this point on, things would only get better for them.

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