Fly.

Read this:
Dear Republican friends: Your Romney vote disrespects my marriage

Who would have thought, eh? That a few months ago, Canadian group AdBusters was able to start a successful call to protest Wall Street, that many originally thought it was destined to fail. However, when September 17th hit (the date AdBuster had assigned as the official protest day), people reacted. They actually came out and did something! After this original demonstration, the message spread like wildfire and more people continued to join until the movement became global. As of today, the protests have lasted 23 days and they are still going strong.

There’s an air of change. The world is starting to feel… different. It seems as if average people are finally starting to talk in a less scared manner. Folks waving signs that say “I’m part of the 99%” sends a clear message against the world’s class order; a message I haven’t seen expressed in the United States before. Up until now, protests weren’t really targeted towards the system… but more towards individual players or situations within the system. To know that, finally, the once perceived as “perfect” structure is starting to be perceived as unfair… fills me with hope. This shift of minds cannot be stopped. Once people “get it”… there’s just no way of going back to think as they thought before. This shift will certainly increase the levels of fear within the 1%, which will make them either loosen up or become more controlling.

Something great that the Internet has done is to bring organizations such as Avaaz.org forward who have revolutionized the way technology is used to express dissent. What they do is that they employ “live counters” to show instantaneous global support towards good causes. As people sign petitions, or view manifestations, they are aware that they aren’t alone. Their vote will end up being part of that ever growing number right in front of their eyes. So alive and so meaningful. I’m embedding one of their live transmissions from New York, in which people get to see the virtual support towards the Occupy Wall Street movement live.

There’s been quite a few groups involved in encouraging this charge against corporate corruption, and it would be unfair to try to credit a group more than another. However, in its essence, this movement is leaderless. This might inspire criticism in some, but others find it to be the very essence of a successful 21st Century resistance. The idea is thought to be more important than the person, because an idea cannot be killed. Also, people are easily corrupted, and their own personal hangups constantly take away the credibility of their movement. By keeping the movement faceless, anyone can be a part of it. There’s no excuse to not believe in it based on the color of the leader’s skin, or their gender. This technique reminds us a lot of what we see with Mexico’s Subcomandante Marcos and his faceless leadership. Naomi Klein describes Marcos:

“Marcos, the quintessential anti-leader, insists that his black mask is a mirror, so that ‘Marcos is gay in San Francisco, black in South Africa, an Asian in Europe, a Chicano in San Ysidro, an anarchist in Spain, a Palestinian in Israel, a Mayan Indian in the streets of San Cristobal, a Jew in Germany, a Gypsy in Poland, a Mohawk in Quebec, a pacifist in Bosnia, a single woman on the Metro at 10 p.m., a peasant without land, a gang member in the slums, an unemployed worker, an unhappy student and, of course, a Zapatista in the mountains’. In other words, he is simply us: we are the leader we’ve been looking for.”

Another faceless hero the movement is inspired by is V from the work of fiction V For Vendetta. This hero also felt that change belongs to everyone, and that ideas should be more about the “what” rather than the “who.” The “who,” in a society of cynics, can easily be divided, while the “what” is too strong to be attacked. The group Anonymous, a firm supporter of Occupy, constantly uses Guy Fawkes’ masks from V For Vendetta to express this decentralized approach. I find fascinating how the concept of Anonymous has been able to touch people in such a positive way, regardless of its anarchic associations.

Only thing missing is some Fight Club references and the protests would be complete from my dorky perspective.

Personally, I’m quite enthusiastic about where things are going. Not necessarily because I think something dramatic will happen in the next few years, but because people are finally starting to think differently. A different type of thought means a different type of world. Once people stop blindly celebrating billionaires and defending a minority who is sending our world into an unfair feudal-esque era of poverty (in which the world is inhabited by peasants), we’ll be able to advance again as a society. Stop vicariously living through the rich, and just start plain ol’ living. This could very well be the birth of a culture in which we judge ideas independently, without getting caught in a cynic condescending mentality towards “the other.” Something I appreciate about contemporary European nationalism is this concept of pride for your country in a way that you desire to see EVERYONE do well. We should feel it is our responsibility to touch others in a positive way, even people who think or look different than us. We should find humiliating when people die in our country without proper medical care or when we see people losing their homes because it is better business for banks to throw people in the streets. It is not that much about overthrowing the system, but about actually caring and thinking that, whoever has power should also be responsible for improving the world we live in, and should be held accountable.

Finally, I thought of closing this with a quote I read a woman exclaimed during Tuesday night’s General Assembly meeting in New York: “Occupy your own heart,” she said, “not with fear but with love.” This might sound a bit silly to the cynic who lives in us, but it is only with this love that we can truly be united as one, divided by zero. And it is with this love that we can stop rolling our eyes and rejecting good ideas because we focus too much in who is expressing them, because we think we are better than everyone else. Well, got news for you, pal… something you’ve been suspecting since your teenage years as a pimple-ridden dork with low self-steem. You are not special. You are as ridiculous as the clown sitting next to you. And if you want to start being taken seriously by the people who are above you, you better start taking seriously and respecting your peers and the people you think are below you. You will never be truly free until you learn this lesson. “The other,” my friend, is simply an extension of yourself.

#OccupyWallStreet

Summer is done with. Flowers have withered. The beast sleeps restless. The body undone with a cycle that’s eternal. Dead now, resurrect later with a hungrier bite, a larger paw, a filthier appetite. The other, the object, rejoices in a temporary victory. Enjoy it while it lasts, for I am the Day that follows the Night.

A gallery of beauty, delirious harmonies.
The perfect stay forever 27, the brave free fall into ecstasy.
Let go. Jump. Descend.

SHOUT! Just scream!! Let go.

Say hi to Grim Reaper for me; for he bypassed my return of saturn.
And as every other pathetic carbon based life form, I fear his encounter, so I don’t really mind his oversight.
He, the editor, forgot the typo that was me.
My existence then is the ink that should have never dried in the book of life.

They are forever 27.

Wow, art just visited me. I felt her presence.
She whispers. Tender kisses.
She tells me I don’t matter to many, but I matter to her.
I am her spawn.
Then I cry.

Filth.

Only the brave can join the 27 club.
The envy of those who stay behind, who never really get to shine.
Those who cling to life, and not let themselves free fall… fail to get as high.

So smoke a bit of death.
Connect, seduce and repeat.
They’ll never know the rest.

I wrote this originally in the Virtual Procrastinators message board many years ago, back when I was living in Puerto Rico, and my best friend RJ and I would get into aimless trouble.

Scientology and Dianetics… just what the hell do we get ourselves into?

Through the course of history, man and religion have walked side by side to be able to cope and make sense of the world. Some say religion is the opium of the masses, others say religion brings hope to humanity… honestly, it doesn’t matter what you think on this subject… what matters is, that you don’t get offended by my Scientology/Dienetics bashing.

As any young bourgeois in my country, I’ve encountered a couple of dead afternoons in which there’s strangely enough nothing to do. Last month had one of those interesting moments; RJ and I had left a meeting and since we were broke and bored, decided to go to the Scientology Church and check out what it was all about. (I have to add, being broke is the worst way you can enter a Scientology Center)

As soon as we enter, God sends us a sign by feasting our eyes with Tom Cruise’s presence in a DVD playback. He, with mad ticked eyes was repeating incoherently “It is a blast! It is a blast!” Never thought I would get freaked out by Mr. Hottie Cruise, but I was. Even though the sign from God could be interpreted by many as “run,” I decided to stay. How else would I fill the need of finding out what else was there to it?

Someone with South American accent approaches us and tells us “What are you interested in?” I say “I want to know what Scientology and Dianetics are about.” Of course, I’m the one talking because apparently my friend was invisible to them, so he just says “Wait a second, please.” A Puerto Rican woman comes out and talks to us for a bit, then makes us watch yet another video. She says before leaving, “When chapter 3 comes up, press stop, because it is all too complex for your understanding.” We nod and start watching. Of course, as I watched, all I could think of was that video’s production values. “They must really be rich.”

A personality test is given to us. My first question is “Do we have to pay for this?” The scientologists chuckle at my remark and say “Of course not.” I’m positive I overheard them thinking, “You’ll pay AFTER we know what’s wrong with you.”

As RJ and I fill out the personality tests, we cannot help but to laugh at some of the questions, “Would I limit myself to having 2 children, even if I had the money to support more?” “Do you justify physical punishment?” I was honestly expecting them to go “Paper or plastic?” “Boxers or Briefs?” TPTB saw us laughing, whispering comments on the tests, and they got upset. One of them told us to seat at different tables because the tests were supposed to be filled individually. I thought they were joking, but when we realized they wanted to separate us, we shut the hell up.

They also made us fill some forms in which we basically expressed what was wrong in us. I said I was unfocused, RJ said she felt invisible. This is mainly what they used to tweak their “join my cult” pitch. They took us into different cubicles and started breaking us down… explaining the joys and wonders Scientology and Dianetics bring.

Basically, Scientology is this church that preaches better living. It gives you motivational booklets related to a various range of subjects. You basically focus in better living from a “survival of the fittest” perspective. They are positive evolutionists (which is bad! Lol) who believe the apt should get rich basically. Ron Howard (Sci-Fi writer, cult founder and leader, even though he’s been dead for more than 20 years) wrote what’s the aim of Scientology: “A civilization without insanity, without criminals and without war, where the able can prosper and honest beings can have rights, and where man is free to rise to greater heights.” All this improvement
is achieved by learning how to control your mind. When you learn to control it, you become a type of god.

On the other hand, we have Dianetics. This is basically the treatment used by the Church of Scientology. This therapy consists in an auditing process (similar to hypnosis) called “returning.” When you go into your past, and you relive certain events over and over again, new data is collected that supposedly helps you take the negative charge out of your memories. In other words, when you rethink too much about the same event, you are able to externalize it and reach a level of “clear.” A clear person is a person without “engrams.” Engrams are the traumatic recordings that stick to your reactive mind, and do not let your active mind process coherently. An example: A man walks down the street and a car runs him over. While he’s unconscious, he overhears someone say “I hate my wife.” Afterwards, every time he passes by that street, he turns violent and starts mistreating his wife.

So, going back to our experiences with the cult people. They take my test, put it into a “super” computer, and a chart popped up showing what was wrong with my personality basically. The result for me was “You are overly critical of yourself, and others.” LOL, my next reaction was “…and?” Unfortunately, the printers weren’t working, so I cannot scan you the results so you can make fun of me. What was RJ’s result? Well, we’ll never know because they didn’t even bother feeding the computer her test. Again, they did this after being aware she felt invisible! Great way to show sympathy, huh?

The next step was to convince the idiots (us) of buying the merchandise. They sold us their Dianetics book, their seminar, their seminar booklet, and gave us a FREE Scientology Membership card, that gives us discounts on their products for the course of 6 months! Wow! Great package, eh?

Before leaving, we were starting to freak out. They make us watch this other movie that basically pronounces all sicknesses to be psychosomatic. Ok, now I’ll feel some bashing from the Scientologists coming up, but they DO IMPLY in their religion sickness is the product of a weak mind. Everything from allergies, to paralysis is your own fault, basically.

Another thing that freaked us out was going to the second floor and finding people being “treated” doing all sorts of weird stuff. Talking to themselves, dialoging with others using Sims tongue, etc. Also, we realized to be a member of the religion you have to literally spend thousands of dollars in books, tapes, and congresses. Every level you reach is more and more expensive, till you have to pay thousands for just one book. But what was worst about the second floor wasn’t the people, but Ron Hubbard’s office. They actually had his office/shrine guarded by a golden rope, not allowing humans to trespass. The office’s walls were transparent as well, allowing it to be viewed from every angle. Lets again remember Ron has been dead since 1986, and the odds are he never saw that office. This proves point number #5 from my guide to cults. The cult’s leader becomes more important than the concept the cult stands for.

RJ and I ended up returning twice after that first eerie experience; we still had a seminar to complete!

The class in essence consists of you and your “twin” filling up this booklet on Dianetics and auditing each other. The booklet was full of drawings and there wasn’t much text in each page, reminding me of those pamphlets we used to fill up when were were in 2nd grade. Every time we finished reading a section on Dianetics, the supervisor would come and quiz us orally. Actually, he seemed to have a crush on me; so again, RJ was ignored by yet another cult member. This made her realize they were overlooking her on purpose, and what first appeared to be a joke (she telling them she felt invisible), became her reality.

The second day was far more exciting though; it consisted on practicing auditing on stuffed animals! Our supervisor was constantly nagging cuz we couldn’t help but to crack up at the stories we were making up with those toys. Half the stories consisted on rape, vaginal problems, possession of evil spirits, and occurrences at the Chinese sweatshop. By the time they wanted to hypnotize us for real (by separating us and putting us in tiny rooms) we realized the people were already getting too scary, and we had learned enough about the religion…. So we decided to call it quits.

They still call RJ’s place every Saturday night though, asking if we are planning on returning on Sunday. Unfortunately, RJ and I are too busy planning building my own cult, so there’s no need in joining yet another one.

LOL, kids, you won’t believe it. The Scientologists just called my house as I was finishing writing this. They appear to be upset RJ is not returning their phone calls, so now they are trying to get me (the incredulous one) to convince her of going. So, peeps, what do you say? Should RJ and I finish the seminar and become clears? If you guys check this link http://www.xenu.net/archive/media/time910605.html or just google the word “Scientology” you’d realize it is best NOT to return… Also, you’ll realise why I haven’t done any real Scientology/Dianetics bashing here. I’m literally afraid of the lawsuits!!

Watching this video about American kids reacting to the news of Osama Bin Laden’s death made me realize something: Human intelligence peaks very early in childhood.

There’s a big difference between being smart and having knowledge. These kids will gain knowledge as they go through life, but most of the way they process things is already defined by age 10. Sure, there might be a schism when they turn 18, in which they might slightly shift their political views, but this change will most likely be a reaction to a movement rather than a reflection on the kids’ levels of critical thought. In fact, that movement might already be pre-digested and served as a generational revolution without them being aware.

These kids are an example of mind control performed upon the masses. Parroting what adults say after being told what to think by the The Powers That Be, this video makes it obvious how opinions get shaped by a template or predefined answers handed to groups. The copy, of the copy, of the copy makes the distortions of the message far more obvious.

For example, with the subject of Osama Bin Laden’s death, based on this video, we can say there are 4 possible templates of thought:

A. Horrible man who would have killed everyone; we are happy he’s dead.

Template A (Hollywood) is the one that views the world as a black & white image. The relation between enemies mimics the interactions between super heroes and villains. The hero embodies virtue, while the villain is evil at his core. Since respect only applies to people; then there is no reason to respect adversaries, since they are not people. “My country is perfect and superior. ‘The other’ is evil, envious, and archetypically wrong.”

B. The US tried handling it with words and it didn’t work; we are happy he’s dead.

Template B (King Solomon) emphasizes in a country’s attempt to reason, therefore higher moral value. The man standing on a higher ground feels a moderate amount of guilt for performing the act of violence against his adversary. To avoid conflict within the ethos, the moral man relies upon a historical retelling of the events that led to the kill, this helps reduce the amount of cognitive dissonance. The higher stance is taken from a colonialist perspective: The Civilized Man vs. The Barbarian. Relying on the fact that someone else started the conflict to justify a violent resolution is the template that tackles the problem from the perspective of King Solomon.

C. One smaller evil can outweight and correct a larger evil; we are moderately happy he’s dead.

Template C (Machiavelli) proposes that the right answer is the one that benefits the greater personal good. It admits that there is wrong in all possible resolutions, but the end justifies the means. It doesn’t find satisfying that someone else started the conflict, the punishment needs to fit the crime. Disproportionate punishment is not acceptable. “All men are equal, but some are more equal than others… the ones who belong to one’s group.”

D. Pessimist critical thought is allowed to certain extent, yet we still accept his death, therefore we aren’t a menace to the status quo.

Template D (Postmodern) finds that there is no ultimate answer to the problem. The world is more complex than what a person can understand, and what’s good depends upon cultural context. There is acceptance regarding one’s circumstances and a lack of confidence in being apt enough to generate results. This template consists in fearing to take action because of the inertia brought by the jenga effect.

The interesting thing is that, nothing can fit outside of A, B, C, and D because it is simply not part of the discourse that’s available to these children. I’m not saying that one answer is right while the others are wrong. What I’m saying is that people repeat these answers so many times throughout their life, that it appears as if they got smarter when the answers became easier to grab, when in reality, their proximity to the conscious brain meant that years of coercive persuasion have been successful.

What’s my stance in all of this? How have I been mind controlled and assimilated? Well, even though I might lean towards Template C in action, I sympathize with Template D in spirit (while my soul longs for an unknown Template E). I’m satisfied Bin Laden died because it will be a driving factor in leading the Democratic Party to victory in the 2012 elections. I enjoyed engaging in the millennial and savage practices of dancing upon a person’s grave. I felt like an Ancient Mayan… so it was almost an educational experience, you might say. Anyway, whatever makes my educated president (who doesn’t believe in witchcraft) look good, I approve. Also, my favorite kid? William (the one in the green shirt). He was the only one who didn’t sound retarded. Oh, sorry. Did I say retarded? I meant retarded.

What can I say? Humans live in a world of metaphors, yet exist unaware of said metaphors. Aside from food, sex, and sleep, the world that extends beyond this is constructed solely on concepts. Hence, all thoughts are fiction, false, and illusive. Sure, this illusion contains physical consequences, but these are generated by arbitrary ideas that lack empirical science and are as variable as an “x” in a mathematical equation. Knowing then that all which cannot be touched or quantified is imaginary, would things like war, family, money, discourses, and status mean as much to you? Uncovering this illusion is like standing on a podium with a naked audience in front of you… it might set you off on a path of original thoughts beyond “templates” or you could just end up dropping off your pants and joining the audience anyway.

I was listening to Simon Sinek’s TED talk earlier today, and I couldn’t help but to feel uncomfortable. Simon (born in England) is this quasi-intellectual who rode on the wave of fame and fortune with the success of his one book: “Start With Why: How Great Leaders Inspire Everyone To Take Action.” Simon sure has created a name for himself talking about leadership. His main idea is the concept of the “golden circle” that illustrates (in a similar way to Dante’s hell) the levels of human understanding inside a metaphorical circle. In the very center we have the “why,” in the second level is the “how,” and the outer level is all about the “what.” He states that effective communication focuses on the “why,” and he expands from there.

What’s problematic about Simon is that, even though the premise of his talk is the “why,” I can never understand why he’s doing this. His motivation seems to be more about the “what.” He is all about finding results for the sake of results. As an effervescent salesman he tries to repackage an old marketing concept by throwing in a couple of buzz words like “leaders” and “action” to make his ideas pop. But his lack of sincerity is apparent, and can be appreciated in many of the comments users have written in the TED website. Simon seems to be more in love with himself and his empty rhetoric, than with the ideas he’s “spreading.” In his talk, he doesn’t focus on the applications of leadership and simply offers a template for mental manipulation of the masses. At least Machiavelli was less hypocritical when writing The Prince. Simon sounds more like an Apple Fanboy trying to rationalize his love for good marketing.

What really ticked me off though is how he brings up the Law of Diffusion of Innovation, just after he’s talking about virtuous leadership. He contextualizes this law inside the realm of consumption and standing in line for hours to get a new iPhone. Seriously? Is this his interpretation of leadership? Simon is giving a gold star to all those people who are followers. Just because you are an early adopter, that doesn’t mean you are less of a follower than the late adopters. In fact, some might say that weak minds who are more easily manipulated are the ones adopting early technologies. He is grouping in the same metaphor Martin Luther King Jr.’s supporters and bored bourgeois with a surplus.

Is this really what contemporary intellectuals are getting off on nowadays?

In pursuit of love, pleasure, and adoration. Charles Manson and all these cult guys live annoyed by two horrible facts: their followers are not their top choice candidates, and they are unemployed.

I am Jack. Unemployed, M.S. ridden, horny and arrogant. Since the nightmares disappeared, all I want to do is fuck.

I honestly thought when I became disabled, that I would have ended up turning into an extreme urban camper, aka homeless. I thought I’d never get laid again, and I that no new beginnings would ever come my way. But life has a way of unwinding, and almost as sure as an end, there is a new start. Living with an open schedule, gave me time to be free. I could finally achieve my full potential… to become an asshole. Like Timon and Pumba said: “When the world turns it’s back on you, you turn your back on the world.” The devil had a hold on me.

But when I first got sick, my first instinct wasn’t to just become an asshole. Assholes are brewed.

Emma was a total cunt to me. She barely put out, and she never helped me with anything. Every time I would have an “M.S. episode” of intense pain, a moment in which walking seemed impossible, she would just hand me a bucket for me to pee in, and a loaf of bread so I wouldn’t starve. Then she would just go off to party. She had lost her initial intense interest in me, since she realized Marla was out of the picture.

Women, like chickens, only want the worm that’s dangling from someone else’s beak.

One day, Emma went off to Burning Man, and I never heard from her again.

—

My M.S. diagnosis soon came after the nightmares stopped. Multiple Sclerosis really messes with you. It is caused by damage to the myelin sheath, the protective covering that surrounds nerve cells. When this nerve covering is damaged, nerve impulses are slowed down or stopped. This is progressive and it is linked to deep depression. People who have it, end up waking up one day without any strength left in their pain ridden bodies.

My so-called pathetic future.

—-

Then along came Lisa.

Lisa was my first attempt to farm sex.

Sexual relations aren’t that difficult to find, but let’s face it, the older you get, the lazier you become. When you hit 30, you want to either be married, or to pay a woman in the corner to let you dip your nugget into her sauce. We humans thrive at creating shortcuts for everything. We transform our environment in the most complex way, with hopes of simplifying things. An oxymoron if you ask me. We could go out and hunt for our food, but as soon as a little bit of surplus comes our way, we outsource the hunting. Then of course, hunters get lazy, and resort to farming.

Same thing with sex and attractions. You realize you can either go hunt for your daily dose of cunt, and end up failing half of the time, or you can farm sex by getting married. If you have more money, then you can just rent different “spots” where you can park your car in. But most people feel inclined to buy a “spot” rather than rent… something along the lines of not trusting the additional tenants, and it being cheaper in the long run.

—

“So Lisa, I hear you have a twin, eh?”

“I do. If I were to die, no one would miss me, because there’s another one of me out there.”

I place my hand on your thigh, and squeeze hard. “I’d miss you.”

You sit on my lap and wrap your legs around me, I feel like a shark after smelling blood. Dilated pupils, filled with desire. It is not personal, you are just beautiful. I wrap my hands around your neck and strangle you, nailing you against the bed, like Christ on a cross, you happily accept your fate. You carry my sins within you, and wash away my transgressions. I give you $100 without you even asking for them, I feel much better now. Almost forgiven.

—

The day Marla truly left the picture was the day I accepted she hit rock bottom, it was the day she would no longer agree to fuck me. She was too in love with drugs. No joke or conversation would have us connect. So, I called her family, told them everything she did, how she depleted her trust-fund, and they ended up institutionalizing her for good. White people cannot forgive badly spent money. Marla is currently undergoing electroshock therapy specialized in adopted children. Doctors know adopted folk are a special type of… is “mentally ill” still PC to use?

Marla, I miss you so much. Your unbridled thoughts were not just beautiful, but a manifestation of Beauty. The flapping birds that lived inside your lungs made me feel at home. No one could cough up a lung like you.

I lost Marla to drugs, but at least drugs didn’t have a penis.

—

To my delight, I find that Lisa’s twin is cute, and word on the street is they both share the same taste in men. They are both social workers, which makes me think they’ll be less mean to me when I’m screaming in pain while M.S. continues increasing it’s hold on me. Lisa, Misa, and myself become really close. When Lisa and I want to fuck, Misa just hangs out in the kitchen, doesn’t come out again until it is “safe.”

Lisa and her twin Misa start bringing girls over to my new low income house every Sunday for drinks and for motivational lessons in life (given by yours truly). This wasn’t initially my idea, but the twins felt like I was an inspiration, or something else condescending like that. I was a true example of someone who was unlucky, but who seemed to be full of knowledge and positive insights. I felt like little African children do when rich travelers give them candy in exchange of having their pictures taken with them. This photo is later used as proof of someone’s good Samaritan nature.

People who don’t have problems, love to squeeze the sunshine out of those who do.

Most of these girls are ugly, but I’m a lonely farmer who doesn’t discriminate. I’m determined to not be left alone in panic and fear of my future very painful death. I just want someone to hold my hand, even if I know the reason they are near me is because of good old fashioned Schadenfreude. They are getting off on my pain the same way I used to get off on others’ pain. As simple as the circle of life.

You can imagine, the girls who visit are all quite gullible. Non of them take my breath away with their beauty or thought process. In fact, a lot of them are chubby, and badly dressed. My sociopathic tendencies take over my lectures as I begin to construct a world of theories for them they soon start to believe to be true. I say I’ve seen “eternity” in my dreams, and that I had been told to share the “good news” with the world.

“The news are… have sex with me, and you too will see the Truth.”

The first time I hinted sexual favors as a path to Nirvana, I held my breath. I said to myself: “Got to keep the poker face.”

My lecture was met with initial silence. I just stayed quiet, took out my medication, and began popping pills. Chewing them seemed to pierce the silence away.

Lisa was the first one to come forward and kiss me in acceptance of what I just said, followed by the other less beautiful girls. When I extend my neck with the intention to kiss Misa, Lisa stops me. She clearly will let me fuck anyone in this room, but her twin sister is off-limits.

This prohibition, has just made her sister 100 times more appealing.

—

I feel satisfied, because regardless of all the adversities that have hit my life, I still manage to build my own little cult. Mama would be proud.

My teachings evolve into me demanding loyalty from the girls. Like animals in the wild, I don’t want anyone else to touch what’s mine. Plus, STIs are gross. I needed to find a way to keep them clean. Of course, I justified this demand with “God told me so.” I felt this worked for a bit, but I knew that, as long as we lived in the city, they’d be tempted to have sex with other men, and this was unacceptable.

Soon enough I felt this desire to isolate them. I just wanted all of us to run away and take care of a farm and fill it with free range chicken. How amazing would that be? To completely free ourselves from this shitty world. Make a living of our own, refusing to risk losing the paradise we have built for ourselves with the perversions and intrusions of tv, technology, and fashion.

Little by little, the girls kept on moving in with me, one by one they vowed their loyalty to the group. I know I’m sounding a bit crazy, but you know it makes sense. Why would a cult leader share? Even the Bible agrees with me: “Thou shall not have any other god but me.”

—

I’m in bed, you come to me. It seems to be you, but I’m not that sure. Your skin gets goosebumps similar to the ones I felt on you at the beginning, but right now it just seems unusual, foreign. Also, your body is unsure. Who am I fucking? I let go. If I don’t say anything, it doesn’t count as lying. If I keep my eyes closed, then there was no betrayal.

I’ve waited for this moment for so long. I often would fuck Lisa thinking of Misa. This doesn’t make sense, because technically speaking they have the same body! However, the mind is a fucked up place, and in this case, my mind is not caring for a body, but for the concept behind a new body… a body that, up until now has been prohibited to me.

Her sister gave me a better blowjob than Lisa was ever able to give me.

—

Free-range chickens await for us! This Sunday we received the good news. One of the girls just inherited a farm and said we could finally make our dreams of purity a reality. It can be just us… forever, or until a natural disaster or the zombocalypse comes and kills us all.

My thoughts trail off. Was it really her and not you? Did you kiss me? Where were you? If it wasn’t you, and it was her, then where were you?

Why do people lie? Is it to be polite? Is it to not burn bridges? Or is it to avoid confrontation at all costs.

—

Lisa keeps on acting weird. Does she know I know Misa in a Biblical way? Lisa is the one I love the most from the group, and I start to feel guilt for not meeting her one demand. Only one thing she wanted, and I couldn’t follow through. Oh Lisa, If it wasn’t for her, my fantasy of never being alone again would have not become a reality. Lisa is my Mary Magdalene… the person who validates my teachings. She takes the initiative and soothes the rest of the cows… I mean, the rest of the girls, by telling them all we speak in our home is the universal Truth, and that what I say must be followed.

I’m stuck in a Charles Pierce’s Firstness loop. And I used to be such a nice guy.

—

The day has come for us to move to the farm of our dreams. All the girls are loading the cars, and I see Lisa crying. I try to console her, but she doesn’t let me touch her. She confesses that she cannot abandon the city; that there are too many things she’d miss, including her dance teacher who she has been sleeping with for a while now, and most importantly for whom she has developed feelings.

The cabin has lost pressure, be ready for yet another emergency landing.

I feel cold, betrayed, but let me just say that I’m not going down like a fool. I can be more manipulative than her. Why? Because I’m smarter and hornier.

We have this talk in which I make her feel worthless; she keeps on crying, trying to break free from my grasp. I just hold her by the shoulders and shake her like a baby, as I keep on destroying her self-esteem, and hopefully her soul. I want her to feel as bad as I feel. She finally runs off, and locks herself in the bathroom.

Catching someone lying is like undressing that part of them that’s the most intimate. Catching someone lying is like being inside of them while they sleep.

—

Misa tells us that she’ll catch us later. She asks me to take the group to our promised free-range chicken land. I hesitate, but eventually get in the car, and we just drive off into the mountains. My eyes lazily follow the scenery, as I ponder on my insecurities. I feel like my superiority as leader of this group has been questioned. Am I no longer the alpha rooster?

Now I’m just left with a bunch of women who aren’t as attractive as Lisa and Misa, without access to the outside world, surrounded by boring trees. I keep on waiting for weeks and the twins never make it. Even though I’m with people, I still feel so alone.

A letter addressed to me is left on our front porch. Misa apologizes because she needs to stay behind and take care of Lisa who took a bunch of Xanax and tried to commit suicide.

I tried to imagine the moment, to somehow be a part of it through my imagination. I fantasized about Lisa calling a suicide hotline, and the person on the other end of the line falling in love with her sultry voice. I imagined AT&T’s crappy reception cutting the call off, making the volunteer very scared, triggering him to post the following on Craigslist’s Missed Connections: “Were you the one yesterday who called the hotline contemplating killing yourself? The call dropped and I don’t know if you died. I guess if you don’t reply, I’ll just think that you are gone.”

—

You know you are attracting the wrong people when your relationships end with someone getting locked up in the nuthouse. Actually, make it the last two relationships. Woah, a new personal record.

Only the insane can love me. This fact has definitely brought doubt to my heart.

I always blamed my girlfriends for being crazy, but maybe I specifically look for unstable women so I can ruin their lives, and have front row seats to their very destruction. But I refuse to believe this is true! This is just like when all proof points to you being guilty, but you really aren’t… Like in that movie. Right?

Now, let’s go farm some chickens. Do we have to buy actual chickens, or do we just start with a bunch of eggs?

Their project: The Little Cake Parlour reminds me a bit of how we (at Fluid) solved the Benefit Cosmetics design, which included a lot of “faking” ribbons and adding PNG assets to break off from the square edges. Benefit turned out better than this example, but it is always nice to see how other people solve similar issues.

Fhoke them… http://www.fhoke.com/

-Alex