Monday, September 19, 2022

YASSIFIED DOCUMENT

 FRIENDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Hi, how are ya. Good.


It’s a Monday here in IN. I was going to do yet another blog about akathisia for you, because it’s very important & I’ve learned lots of stuff ‘bout it. But first I wanted to share the 9/11 poems (aka my first Psychic Safari, the one I didn’t know I was on until c. 9/12/01)


It dawned on me that 9/11 is old enough to drink now and I haven’t, as far as I recall, ever shared the full document of my early psychic safari. At least not here on FacebookmetaBlogger. I do remember typing them up on MySpace.


MYSPACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!


I still miss that shitty little place. 


Anyway…I’ve included some photos of the only remaining document I could find — an email I sent to my dad on 1/16/02 after he bombarded me with Xtian themed chainmails. We had been estranged for many years & reconnected at my brother’s wedding in 2001 & he never sent me one personal email asking what I’d been up to for the last decade, so I decided he needed to be bombarded by automatic writing.


I sent him all the automatic writing I did on the remainder of my psychic safari. He deserved it. I think his fancy-haired wife intercepted it all anyway.


Enjoy —


*********




Wish I was a morbid wiseman

Strange authority whispering sidewalk slogans

That make no sense in this century.

Aug 3, 2000


And behind the black curtain

Lights went on acute w/ portents

A danger so insipid 

It destroys mankind at its soul

The Birds of War 8-8-00


Safety sabotaged

Injury of spinal structure

Deposed brain & lightning heart

Follow millions into spooky coma

Everyone a failure ‘cep the bad guy,

The monster, the computer

All ready with endless plans

Diagramming your destruction

You are not safe to turn right

When you leave your room

For they lurk there in their silk terror

They follow you into the restroom

For a routine chokehold

Saved by the flushing toilet

Scaring up a witness to your arbitrary karma.

June 2000





Status octane pumping aggregate herds

Up veins in Manhattan skyscrape organismus

World renovation distribute new cities

Crost all desolate lands

No more chokehold

No fear stems from chaos

Arrested boys in military drag

Police third degree car;

Where were you on the night peace & freedom

Drowned in a revolution

To keep it alive?

I was out sky-diving.

June 2000


Stiff eyes, trenchant gazes

Learn enough about white boy

To know he’s from the sky

Hostile takeover

Soon historical karma

Will make white boy extra-terrestrial

June 2000


Pilot passing over prismatic ocean

Creating triptych access

Carefully targetted.

July 2000






The eyeball 

Saw it all coming & cried

Psychic resident,

Television panic,

Traffic fury

In the dark room

The eerie glow

From the miracle window

Brings voices near

And now you’re not alone.

July 2000


We hear our voices 

Through melted receivers

But the interpretation

Is always the same —

Death cannot come too soon

For this collision.

To end this way —

How climactic,

How fiery & loud!

We would never believe

Our fear in retrospect —

We would never understand

How we could dread this moment.

July 2000





Television crystal ball

Shows vision of violence

Subliminal prediction force

Sends a message through the eyes

Porthole Iris lets them in

Without security, no I.D. check

And the television was right.

Now exalted as reality.

July 2000


Pink stars collide in space

And form a batik explosion

Neon announcement credible from a telescope

A lucid phenomenon of the new millenium

God has returned

From his New York sepulchre

That astral borealis

Causing more collidascope

On the ceiling of the sky

Than the roof of your church

Dec. 2000





Birds fly

As big as planes

To a glass nest

Secured from the public eye…

Jan. 2001


Underground hostility

Baby undertaker

Tall currents of rage

Rise in a skyscraper

Feb. 2001


Earthquake sounds

And faith asunder under the sidewalk

There thrives a community

Chaotic insects inhabiting the cracks

That make us cry when they rip through our houses

From here to Seattle eternity

Airlines desperation throes

Crash landing into barbed-mesh-

Nail-split ruins

Fractures bone & metal & even glass

Then fills a colony ship

With metaphysic travelers.

March 2001





Under a blood red mountain

Six superior survivors

Cheated the giant machine

Marketplace swarming with empty eyes

Nobody expected our mutual danger

April 2001


Sparkly buildings below the airplane

Can you guess how many years

I’ve fallen through these clouds

No memory of the universe

Before this human prison.

April 2001


New York again —

Heading East tonite repeatedly

L.A. is a city too & closer to the ocean

But I want undertones of dirt

Mechanic hands trapping me there.

A star shooting across the sky &

Then a gun shooting across the room.

You missed my heart by a minute,

My spine by a mile.

April 2001


Xylophone guitar

So in tune with the skyline

Tooth-sharp in light & dark

Sometimes I don’t know what to say

So I see for miles through water & fire

from England >>> America

Look through earth & air

To see the past & future blend

From Boston >>> New York >>> Philadelphia >>>

Miami >>> Chicago >>> Dallas >>> Seattle >>>

SanFrancisco >>> L.A. 

Writing songs,

Singing to the sea

With the city behind me.

April 2001


this one seems even more like 9/11 when it's cut in half



Male banshee

Mourning on a rooftop in Manhattan

Any enormous skyline biting the distance

Kamikazee windows

Flying in from the rising sun

Studio 54 horror

How the axis turns.

May 2001


Star power

The lucid red violence

Rose to a crescendo 

Unlike any other explosion.

The skull grew cracks & fractures

All around eyes & 

The sky spoke meningitis megaphone

Blaring down streets

Hollow vertebra terror

We never made it to NYork that day

And the floor of the world

Opened like jaws below your feet.

May 2001


Busy expressway

Wax corpse

Steel scalpel carving candle-meat

And blood leaking underneath

Advanced decomp

Stinking up the architecture

I hear the sound

Of helium heartbeat

Saddened by entrapment

Talk to me I’m scared

Hit zero for human sound

And a pulsebeat in a fingertip

911 death in the street

Blood in the hair

Skull wound

Black out.

May 2001





Silver lips mouthing the song

Airwaves doomed for eternity

To corporeal hell

The crust of earth is damnation locale

Certain cinder-somebodies

Gouge away at purgatory

Waiting room irritation aggravation

Break the walls & kill us all

Overexposed to shelter.

May 2001


The disco diva

Rising on the platform

Silver afro lighting up the night

Times Square millenium

Silver ball drops down eleven flights

Screams reach into illicit windows

And grab around for safety

Elevator stuck between floors

Occupied by savagery

When you slip past my knees 

And fondle my inferiority

I see her pinpoints of light

as they rain & fall & blow away

Not fixed to any electricity.

May 2001


Take your hallucinogenic religion

And destroy yourselves with it.

Your numbers are thinning

It is a dying legend and

Who knows if it will undo the nation, the world.

How will we end —

Knowing it was all a joke?

Or in a final permanent moment of clarity?

May 2001


I wish the population

Would divide in random half.

I’ll go if I haffta.

I want empty seats on the airplane.

Quiet sidewalks.

Traffic sparse.

Actions of inhumane violence

A nominal headline

In a faraway derelict land.

July 2001


City upon city

With the same six buildings

Tall white graves where bodies vaporized

And it was always a dangerous job,

But that’s okay

Because droids are doing it &

Who cares if they are safe?

July 2001


The third wave of war history

Now erupting in a plague

Invisible enemy line crossed in each cell

A grim war —

The  most casualty ever…

July 2001


I wanted to see everyone’s face break

After optic nerves or ear canal witnessed truth.

Hate. Prejudice. Violence.

Blinders always in place during

The most dangerous game.

I see history distort &

Wonder what happened all along.

Explosion.

An ocean of wisdom.

Universe graveyard — we’re next.

Sept. 4, 2001






Next time — akathisia stuff [aka the fun stuff] We have fun here, right?

Wednesday, August 24, 2022

BEIGE ACCENTS & GRAY INTONATIONS

 FRIENDSTERS & FRIENDSTRESSIXES,


Join me in a chorus of halluluiah for the bounty of srtwork you are about to receive!! I’m so excited to present to you new ART called:


1. NO GRAYS IN SIGHT


2. NO BEIGES IN SIGHT


3. RUFUS & INGRID REACH A PEACE AGREEMENT RE: THEIR SINCERE APPRECIAYION FOR EACH OTHERS CULTURE


It has been about a month & a half since I checked in with you all, my spies, my lookers!! I loved you & missed youthe whole time though, trust me. Believe me.


I have SO much to catch you upon.  SO MUCH in fact, that I probably will NOT cover it all today. IN FACT, i may just leave you with an outline of what to expect to read about in futurre blofs.


1. TRANS/DETRANS UPDATES


a. seeing fewer FtMtF detransitioners telling their stories online


b. seeing more content from MtFtM detransitioners, but not a whole lot


c. seeing lots more comedic content from trans/gay folks. Netflix better be handing out comedy money to the queers that’s all I be saying.


d. this is all going in the direction I had hoped it would. I have found my foothold in the belief that while trans & nonbinary may be “trending’ for a few more minutes, and that not everyone who experiences gender “discomfort” needs to medically transition, there will not be a return to the days where gender is just assigned & accepted without question.


2. AKATHISIA UPDATES


a. along with trans/detrans shit, I also continue to do research on akathisia


b. I have found out lots of interesting, shocking stuff


c. I will share it with you soon


d. but here is a little tidbit: I know Robin Williams died form akathisia not Lewy Body Dementia


e. also…I have had akathisia 2 times. Recently in 2021, but also in 2014. I will explain the hows & whys in a futturre blog


NO GRAYS IN SIGHT (Aug 2022)



3. MY OWN PHARNACEUTICAL UPDATES


a. because I’m a person who values my big fat electric brain, I’ve always been against pills/pharmaceuticals/antidepressants/etc…


b. but due to circumstances that sometimes happen, I found myself having to take such drugs a few years ago 


c. now it is time to reevaluate what my big fat brain does & doesn’t need from big pharma


d. as you can probably tell by all the exclamation points & misspellings, I did a quick taper off the Seroquel in June. It went well. No real side effects, except INSOMNIA. 


e. SEROQUEL is a magical drug. But like all magical drugs it is VERY dangerous if you take it for too long. I was advised by the doctor who put me on it to taper off as soon as I felt I could.


f. I REALLY enjoyed the sleep that SEROQUEL allowed me to have. As a lifelong insomniac, that was a real TREAT. and the dreams!! The gorgeous Seroquel dreams…  so vivid & complex… ALAS!!!


g. it’s back to being awake at all hours. 


h. in August I have been doing a much slower taper off duloxetine (Cymbalta). Cymbalta is an SSRI, so it is not magical, just effective. Whatever part it played in regulating my dopamine levels back in 2021, I am grateful for. But I really, really hate SSRIs as a personal rule.


i. no one ever told me to taper off the Cymbalta but I am going to anyway, so I can see if I really need anymore.


j. so far, I have experienced a terrible 2-day migraine, nausea, & an edgy temperament bordering on rage occasionally


k. I experinced ZERO rage in the year & half I was on SEROQUEL & Cymbalta. It was nice. I’m using CBD oil to manage the edgeness. It works pretty well.


l. I am really hoping the edgy temperament is due to the taper, not a sign of how things are gonna be. Because really… I have no real thing to be rageful about…anymore…


m. OR DO I?


4. POETRY UPDATE


a. my poetry carrer is going well. i am so close to being famous I can almost tongue-sense it. 


b. I sent out a bunch of subs late last year, and early this year and got lots of REJECTIONS and several acceptances too


c. But I’m about to embark on 2 YUGE poetry endeavors


d. First I start working on a chapbbok or even manuscript length chronicle of what happened during & after my last psychic safari (SHAMANISTIC FIGHT CLUB)


e. YOU ALL read the streams of consciousness that accompanied SHAMANISTIC FIGHT CLUB. I know you did.


f. and you think I’m a spiritual narcissist for daring to have such an adventure while you didn’t/weren’t able to 


g. it’s okay…I can see you all & know that you are spiritual narcissists too. We all are kind of. It’s just natural to think you have spoken to god & that he wants you to tell everyone else what he said, I mean we all do it, right??? RIGHT?


h. Actullya that’s not what happened to me.. Haaha. Ha. Ha. So stop being jealous. Just try having your own spiritual adventure when you can.


i. On top of all that…on top of writing about a spirituall narcissism that possesses us all , I will be weaving the tale of my chronic cyberstalker…


j. YES I HAD ONE FOR MANY YEARS(& probably still do, I just haven’t checked in awhile)


h. But I have never spoken of it aloud, or in print, because…even though I can be a very enraged weirdo, I’m also kind of a wuss when it comes to dealing with … err…ummm…. direct, head-on confrontation w/ someone who is harassing me for reasons unknown…


i. anyway… the cyberstalking took a dark, invasive turn in the summer of ’20 and we were forced to reckon with it


j. we had to decide what action we could/would/should take


k. it nearly tore us apart


l. the stress of it all caused me to seek help in the form of a new medication called Abilify. This is the drug that gave me akathisia for 3 months.


m. pardon me while I connect these dots … … … 


n. yway… I hope I can convey what an absolutely horrific confluence of events led us to our happy hobbity home in beautiful jasper Indiana.


NO BEIGE IN SIGHT (Aug 2022)



o. The other YUGE poetry endeavor I’m about to embark on is a thorough inquest into the works of BUKOWSKI. I have read some of his work. enjoyed it well enough. But I need to know why he is the most revered & emulated poet amongst well… … … white dudes.


p. Expect my full, unredacted findings here in The Octopus’s Diarrhea Garden


*. MY VERY OWN GENDER TRANSITION


a. I have 2 words for my 7th year on testosterone: ARM ACNE


b. don’t woryy I’m not gunna detranstion over it, jeez…


c. Autoandrophilia is the fire!


d. Can y’all believe I been on T for 7 years???!!! I can.


6. QUINTETLETS


a. the quintuplets names are ELOISE, ANAWEN, INGRID, IMOGENE, and ISABEL


b. their buns are PORTUGAL, ATTICUS, RUFUS, FLORA , and DORA


c. respectively


7. ART UPDATES


a. I love doing art, but god...it has been a lifelong learning adventure!!!!!!


b. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


c. the first 2 artworks were based on sketches I found in my akathias ia notebook. It is akathisia art.


d. [I also found some writing I did from that time period, which I had dismissed as garbage-ranting, but actually captures the experience pretty well. I’l share it with yall in a futurre blog]


e. ennyway… I’m taking a few months oof art to woork on pooetry


f. I hope you can handle that.


RUFUS & INGRID REACH A PEACE AGREEMENT RE: THEIR SINCERE APPRECIATION FOR EACH OTHERSES CULTURE



8. LET’S SEE…WHAT ELSE CAN I TELL YOU??


a. I guess that about covers it for now!!


b. Stay well & I’ll see you next ime… in The Octopud Litterboxery 

Saturday, July 9, 2022

Ingrid's Rabbit Accuses Her Of Cultural Appropriation for Wearing a Bun

 HEY BUDDIES —


How’s it going?  I’m good…busy...etc… It has been WAY HOTTER in Jasper than I could’ve ever imagined.


I did this sketch of the quints & their bunnies because I have to confess I haven’t been thrilled with my artwork this year. I don’t know if it’s because I got eyeglasses, or if one of my new medications is stifling creativity a bit…


…but I feel like my artwork is kind of bland…more crafty & less wild…


…and I don’t like that.



Who knew that being able to see could ruin your hard won aesthetic?


Anyhow…I don’t have much to say these days…I’m quietly mulling over the contents of the universe, like a dumped out purse … strewn eyeliners & tampaxes… murderous waifs and children’s severed spines… Vladimir Putin’s isolated stool samples & Voldomor Zelenskies tears brewed into the finest Vodka the world has ever gulped in unison…


We are having our Indiana house painted the same color as our Florida house was. Everyone loves it. We included.





I hope you all are busy with your own creationism and universal contents. Let me know what you are up to in the comments. I’m interested. I’m not a robot.


Don’t believe the rumors. The rumors are stupid. And dumb. And restarted.


Original sketch — always lay the gold down first



Enjoy this art… I might take a little time off… Be back in August…to fill the Octopus Diary with color & desigm & broken paradiggity-digm.