Vagabond Scribbles

To get I get down with my tactics, I follow my heart and my head, though I feel as if I may stray, I remain on the path and the trail keeps going. It’s a life of living, traveling, riding the veins of the U.S, a couple modern day gypsies kickin’ it on the road, and calling home where they sleep. It’s a love of live, a lust for the road of a different path, a way that wasn’t paved over as so many roads in this world have been. This road is a train track forgotten in the woods, with only the memories of the trains passing over it to keep it company, an echoing of the steel on the tracks ringing through the forests of thought. It’s a desert blooming, followed by a rain forest hazing, the slashing and burning with the smoke of dooming.

“YES!” Scream the peasants when offered the sugar covered illusion of freedom. “NAY!” call the politicians from the highest tower, looking down on us from another world, a world that I shall never call home. There in that Emerald city, resting high on the Capitol Hill.

The Witches be damned! Toto died of parvo, and Dorthy later was verified to be schizophrenic. The land of Oz these days could be Cabrini Green and if Clive Barker was correct, the man behind the curtain could have a hook for a hand. The building is gone but the memories live on. What’s to say that whatever was there doesn’t still exist, just waiting for an entrance back to play with us some more.

What dreams do you have? Are you flying? Soaring high over mountain vistas and deep valleys, do you realize the potential of Dreaming? True dreaming. Some would call it Lucid Dreaming, but none the less, if you have the power to affect your own dreams, you can do anything within the bounds of your mind.

Reality is Perception, Perceptions can be Changed. Open your eyes, do what you want.

When I look at the world, I see a globe with major problems. We sit upon a spinning rock, bound to get hit by an astral body at some point in our existence. Perhaps not OUR life time, or our children’s, or even theirs. No no, I speak of the Future. Yes, I’m sure there’ll be a thing to warn us of what is going on, but there WILL come a time when we must leave this rock. The survival of the human race depends upon our willingness to divide and conquer.

Set your eyes on the stars and aim for the farthest object away.  You’re bound to hit something closer, but at least it’s farther away than just ‘giving up’.

Bottle Rockets & Sleeping Pills - The Real Bio Fuel

Here comes a bit of the muse, wandering back down that beaten path, whistling incoherently.

With gas prices rising, though not nearly as much as other countries, one would wonder why gas prices would still rise despite the so called addition of bio-fuel into the gasoline. If they are adding more of something, gas is being taken out. Therefore the price should, logically, go down. Where does that money go? Did they add anything at all?

America runs on Oil. But it also runs on human Blood. Apparently blood really is thicker than oil and not only that, is a better fuel source, being more of a renewable interest than the sludge of dinosaur bones. Sitting in the Plasma Center, I watched the people giving plasma. The true bottom of the poverty line on up to a single random person who looked like he genuinely wanted to help someone. Crackheads sitting uncomfortably in the cracked plastic seating so often found in over crowded DMV offices, with the DMV clerk being the biggest bastard this side of the prime meridian. Scratching themselves and keeping their heads low. The young couple, just learning that life is a bitch as the young mother hands the baby to the unexperienced boyfriend or husband and heads to the back to whore herself in a different fashion.

The place smelled of fear and loathing mixed with the thick odor of disinfectant. There was a sign by the front desk announcing that if you needed extra income for rent money, etc, that the first donation payed 40$. The second visit paid 50$. You were allowed to visit twice a week. That’s $360 dollars a month for a bit of body juice. Anyone whose gone will note that after the plasma is taken out with the blood, the blood is later put back in. Anyone who is a shrewd businessman could see the advantage of just asking if they wouldn’t mind just giving you the blood bag and heading over to the blood bank to see if they’d accept it seeing as needles in the arm more than twice or so a week is just too often.

Perhaps I am too jovial about the whole business…

Let us try another approach, shall we?

What can I tell you about your government that I haven’t already said, or you don’t already know. I can only offer you the support should you need it if you take the offer to stand and change the situation if you don’t like it. I am standing and clapping for those who believe in the Truth still. For those who DO help this coontry, though it still slides. There just seems to be too much stacked in their favor. It IS a sad thing indeed. But what can you do but get mad?  What can you do that will keep you from getting in trouble for standing up for what you believe in?

Fucked if I know people.  If I knew those answers, think I’d be writing this online?  Hell no, I’d have a full publication going in full swing, being able to pay for the dentist and doctor visits I so need to put into my financially retarded situation.

There is a bit of hope over that bleak horizon though.  That hope lies in spreading the word, banding together, getting the facts straight, and shooting the government in the knee and asking kindly for a bit of fucking personal space and respect.

It’s late/early, and I’m heading to bed…  At least in Dreams I can do what I wish without negative consequence.  If only dreams…

~Scarab

Transmissions from Dreamtime

There was a dream… The golden flecks from the dust in the air glittered and shimmered in the morning haze.  It was a dream, wasn’t it?  These moments between sleeping or waking seem so real yet hazy…

Maybe it’s all real… Perhaps all the police, ambulances, and firetrucks I see truly exist… If so, someone lies in pain.  It seems strange that I know that they exist though the signs I see, but they don’t know of mine.

Do I? Sometimes it would seem so, but what is life, other than a long dream?  Strange and lucid moments drifting up through the aether…

Am I really sitting in traffic on a steadily warmer May morning?  I could be sleeping peacefully in a bed somewhere… After all, I’ve heard we’re all actors in other people’s dreams.  If that’s so, perhaps the dreams that we remember are our own…  Whose dream is this?

Whose life?

Snuff & Adrenaline - Jack Waxes Melancholic

The Fear permeates the city with a dense fog in the mornings. As the day lingers, the fog dissipates, but the Fear just stretches out over the people, engulfing us all in it’s decadence.

We stroll the streets, looking for some kind of trouble to get into. But nothing comes. Sometimes it’s like that. No matter what you do, or where you are, you can’t get anything done. Creativity fades and seeps through the cracks in the sidewalk and you are left with nothing but some sunburn.

Courting the muse is a long forgotten path. These days people don’t wait for inspiration, or even try to draw in inspiration. They just do. And so we end up with a bunch of crap that is passed for “art” or “poetry” or “fiction” or any number of other things. But when you see it, it just fucking bores you to tears.

Court your muse. Find your inspiration. Then bang out that piece of crap you’ll never be proud of. Life keeps on moving down the line. The train will not remember you, and it does not forgive. Walk out on the tracks and stare at the ground. See those are steel rails? Is this what we’ve become?

And so here I am, waxing melancholic, for no reason other than I know not what to write.

-Jack
I Listen.

Bottle Rockets & Sleeping Pills - Six

Six months.  Three months short of the birth of a baby, six months short of a full year…  The Election happens this November.  Already the campaign trail has began to rot and lose momentum.  The last four contenders beginning to get more cut throat and offensive in their campaign strategy.  Off and on the news goes, the current state of things being rather depressing and we’d probably get a better idea of what’s going on if we dropped some LSD and concentrated on any one candidate.  (Speaking of which - Albert Hofmann died yesterday.  Thank you Albert, you left your mark on the minds of the masses and you will be missed.)

To really get to the point of this entry, here’s my question for you all.

Are you going to vote?

Honestly, I could give a shit less if you did, but the truth of the matter is that other people DO care.  And YOU should too.  When November comes, are you going to go make an educated guess, or will you just throw your vote to the biggest media whore?  What will you do?  Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

I will not vote because as I’ve said before, I don’t believe in contributing to the delinquency of a nation in the depths of an Apathy binge.  That and I really don’t want to register to vote.  I’d rather not get called for Jury duty.  (I’m laughing alot right now.)

It seems not long ago that Dr. Hunter S. Thompson was on the Campaign Trail in ‘76.  I wasn’t born until ten years later, but I can still see and feel the ripples of his trip.  If downers didn’t come into fashion until Nixon entered the White House, speed came into fashion as soon as there was a feeling that shit wasn’t getting done.  There was a need for more hours spent awake to make up for all the lost profits from the Nixon years onward.

While it’s Hunter’s life that we celebrate, it’s his death that spurred me to continue my writing.

“This life would be a lot less bearable if I didn’t know I could end it any time I wanted.”  -  Dr. H.S.T.

With that line burned fresh in my mind, I realized that I was truly the one in control of my life.  Whether to continue it or end it, waste it or make something of it.  It was MY choice.

Well, now YOU have a choice.  Whether you will make your choice count or not is up to you.  What you choose is your choice.  Realize that.  Absorb it.  Let it become part of you.

When November comes, will you choose the lesser evil, or will you roll the dice and go for change?  Will you give up your freedom for a bullshit reason, or will you grow a backbone and instead of ‘taking the bull by the horns’, give it a good swift kick in the balls?

I’m calling you out America.

Bring it on.

“We’ve been bored for too long!” - Dr. Steel

Regards,
Scarab