epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
Is another man's bliss... Isn't that what they say?

They also say "One can learn to find joy even in the worst situations." I guess it's just a polite way of saying, depending on how and where you were born you have different ideas of what is pleasurable and fun and what is old hat. Just like you'd have different ideas of what rebelling against your origins would be.

If One were born into a Puritan home with religious literature, pious activity, and excessive discipline, they would probably adopt a contrary lifestyle once they broke free of "parental care". They may grow into an individual who thrives on being everything in opposition of their origin to the point of calling themselves "The Beast". If they were an especially educated person they might even develop a philosophy or "religious system" based around ego worship and gratification of the physical senses as a means of rebellion against the life they were "forcibly born into". Seems like a pretty logical way to go about things. 

Now look at the person born into the opposite situation. The person born into a life of physical and emotional extremes, an individual raised with debauchery, pain, and profanity of every type as their "normal". When a person raised in a world of sin decides that they do not want to take part what do they do?  What does it look like when that person decides to live contrary to their upbringing? What does it look like when a Demon rebels against expectations? 

I guess it looks like me...

God damn!!! I hate religions, deity worship, gurus, maguses (magusi? lol) or any kind of collected group trying to claim that they know the right or best way to live a life. Nobody really knows anything about anyfuckingthing when it comes to spirituality. Anyone who claims they have that one true way is a liar and most likely out to get rich and give you herpes.

I think I finally understand what I'm supposed to do with all this Strong Ass True Will I been gifted with.

And thus the Fellowship of the Broken Clock on Middle Ground is born.

epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
There was a helicopter circling a 3 block radios in my "neighborhood" for about 2 hour, shining spot lights in front and back yards. Of course I went outside to smoke and watch the whole thing like a mindless monkey for at least 30 minutes. Then it dawned on me that only violent people are hunted like that. Now that I am inside the cats are all acting like something is in the yard.
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I should have locked the basement door this morning... Oh well. It's not like a person can enter the house through the basement. If there is someone down there they are down there with big spiders, puppets, prop skulls, monster masks, and all my failed art projects. That's their mistake.
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I am one hell of an ugly mother fucker but, being hard to look at isn't as bad as you would think it is. People don't bother to sexualize me, and I find that usually only the people interested in what I have to say will interact with me so yeah... Not really that bad just lacking intimacy... Let's be honest.
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epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
I had a whole bunch of shit on my mind 2 minutes before I turned on my lap top. Now it's gone. I'm just sitting here listening to the Ambercon 2.0 event on Michael B Petty's youtube channel. I'm kinda disgusted with myself at how overwhelmed I feel when I sit down to make a publishable video. Amber Lyn Reid makes 10k a month lying about binge eating and I can't figure out how to record a live picture in picture reaction video with pauses to talk. Fuckin' pathetic... Even more pathetic, is that I could just ask for a new machine with the proper tools and it would be mine without question. And even more because so many people believe in my creative ability and I feel so frozen. 
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Michael B. Petty just mentioned the phrase "terminal uniqueness". It's when you think your disorders and problems are so unique that no one will ever be able to understand you, so you never seek help. You just get worse. The fact that I feel like I am a "dime a dozen" sort of gives me hope that I can "better myself" and fix all the shit in my head.
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no one is above reproach...
That is some ambiguous grammar. So what can be said is "stay mindful of what you say and do yourself, while you go ahead and "be petty" by pointing out the disappointing shit other people do." Someone I used to know would liken this behavior to small minds and social credit systems. I kinda see his point of view but, I don't mind being criticized for being a shitty person when I am being a shitty person. 
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I need to stop thinking about mother fuckers I used to know and focus on some higher level shit.
I got a head full of ideas and a garage full of supplies and tools but I can't make myself move to finish any of it. There are so many weird ass supplies on my property and I can't fucking move to use them. Here I go feeling like dirty asscheeks again. 
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I do take a great deal of comfort in the fact that no one is completely, fully, unique. Everyone has it in them to be a star or a phoenix. That means that even a shitbag like me can figure out how to claw their way outa hell and get to a reasonable facsimile of where they wanna be in life. I mean find the "positive" anywhere you can...Dig?
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Trading one means of self medication for another ain't no way to go through life son.
I am capable of recognizing why I drink. I'm also capable of diverting myself from the liquor store for 3 to 4 months at a time provided I stay the fuck away from those "triggers" that send me there. Loneliness, rejection, too much weird "tension" attention, all that deep deep sorrow that comes from knowing in your heart that you'd just fail again anyway. Hhhyup that shit gets so deep into my head that it invades my whole body and causes me physical pain. I don't do pain killers and aint on mood meds so I either feel the shit or make a shit ton of bad choices. I spend a whole lot of nights balled up on the couch trying to divert my mind from it's self, by binge watching netfix series and reading trashy science fiction novels while I smoke fuck tons of weed. I'm probably going to have to talk to the shrink about that.
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I don't expect anyone to forgive or take me back as a friend, just because I am sorry and trying to change. Fuck that shit. If someone does you dirty and you can't get over it, than don't! Be pissed off as much as you need to be! If I was shitty to you than I was shitty and I can't take it back no matter how contrite and repentant I might be.
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Anger is one of those allegedly negative emotions that help people survive shitty circumstances. If you get pissed off enough about a situation you are in, you do something to change it one way or another. "Rage" above all things, has always been the emotion I could call "my driving force". Being pissed off and reacting "poorly" has gotten me out of situations of abuse and caused some really shitty people to know their place... Far, far away from me. I'm not ashamed to admit that it's my armor. I go way the fuck outa my way to find shit to be pissed off about just to avoid thinking about the hell I've built for myself. I keeps me from crying.
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I'd rather sit here and waste 2 hours watching amberlyn reaction shit than deal with the factual reality of my own psychological health and damn disappointing place in life. I say my life is hell but it ain't horrifyingly terrible (until you find out how many cats I have). I have a house, a partner with a stable income, my bills are up to date, and I ain't got any kind of debt (or credit either). The hell of it all comes from the fact that I'm 44 years old and live the life of a 17 year old who believes they can do their own taxes. I have no responsibility past the care and feeding of my pets which I keep like children, purely as a reason to stay alive. All that is ever expected of me is to produce and hustle my own art and fuckery. Sometimes it's fucking hard to do that... It eats at me that I've never lived on my own in my entire life. I've always had a room mate, boyfriend, spouse... I'm not sure if I can make it on my own if I tried. I really really want to be something different than what I am now but I have no fucking clue where to start.
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I still get real sad when I think about him. Sometimes I come across an article or a video that I know he'd either say "I don't get it" or brush it off like it's totally pointless, and I let out a sad little laugh because I miss how frustratingly disconnected he was from society. The other day I found a fascinating correlation between the mud flood theory and "SCP 2000" and found it amusing enough to share with a friend who was familiar with the mudflood and was not but is now interested in the SCP foundation writing collective. It made me have to log out and walk to the play ground where I sat on the swings and cried like a bitch for an hour because I wished "he" was as receptive to awesome social stuff as my new friend (that I keep having to awkwardly back away from). Can you be head over heals in love with someone and think they are annoying jackasses at the same time? I mean... I have a habit of feeling like that about myself so why not someone else too? Nope probably not healthy.  
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All I really want to do is get to a point where I'm not an emotional powder cage long enough to work on my art and make a living for myself and maybe find someone to collaborate with. It's not that much to ask for.



8 months

Apr. 11th, 2019 04:05 am
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
That's how long it's been since the last time I saw him. Only in the last month has he not dropped a little hook in my water. I should be over it by now. I guess I am over the anger part at least. Now if only I could find my way into not being scared out of my mind at the prospect of intimacy with another man, that would be fantastic. 

The thought of him still invades my poor little pea brain every time a man wants to get close to me. All I can think of is being in his arms and looking into the hazel abyss of his eyes. I wonder if I miss him for the same reason I pined over Muffin while I fought off his attempts to reconnect (also known as stalking)... Just really mind blowing deeply connected sex.  If only it was that shallow. 

Nah I'm never going to be the same after him but it's okay. Lilith only got to be with the love of her life once. I had a whole bunch of time with mine.

I wish him well. I wish him peace. I wish him happiness, love, and joy.

I'll find mine one day too.
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
Since I was a young teenager I liked the idea of playing with religious philosophy and theory. I was (am) the weird kid who thinks cults are interesting points of study and maybe I might like to consider the idea of "shakin' it up" a little bit by adding my own twist to the world of worship. Anyway yeah... I think about weird shit too often... We covered this a few posts ago.
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One of the weird things is the David Bowie Oracle. I don't really take part in the practice as often as I used to (because I rarely need to care about how my day goes) but I used to start every day by collecting up all of the David Bowie music in my possession, putting it on whatever player device I had that could shuffle and letting the first three songs I heard dictate my day. I picked it up in my early 20's when you could have three disk changer boomboxes... my first three CDs were ziggy Star dust, the labyrinth soundtrack, and  hunky dory. Those were strange, dark times. 
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Road Bananas.....
I have been taking photographs of random bananas on roads and side walks for the better part of 20 years. I don't really know why I do it but it's something that I have done since I got my first digital camera. Any time I see one I stop what I am doing and take a photo. It's become an omen of chaotic adventure with a side of slapstick. It does not matter what shape the banana is in, black empty husk on the sidewalk, or unviolated and forgotten in a parking lot, I stop what I am doing, admire it's absurdity, and document the blessed event with a photograph. 
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Dead Birds and misadventure...
During highschool I often walked 2 to 3 miles at a time in order to meet up with friends with easier going house holds for the having of adventure and doing of havoc. During these walks (in the warmer months) I would count the number of dead birds I passed along the way. Over time I came to believe my own idea that the amount of dead birds was an omen of the level of adventure and my ability not to get caught doing it. The more dead birds, the more likely I won't get caught doing whatever it is I knew I probably shouldn't be doing. If I saw zero or only one or two I would know to dial it back a little bit and probably not try to hitch hike to the mall. 
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Comfort....
When the fuck does a human get to a point where they are comfortable in their own existence doing all the right things to beat this level and move up to the next one? I would say I miss "knowing myself" but I don't think I ever really did in the first place. Kinda always just been a big ball of "I could do that shit..." while I watch in disgust as what I consider to be mediocre get showered with fame power fortune and admiration. I don't have the confidence in myself to let go and just do the shit I want to. I'm just a slave to a psychical reality with all kinds of things telling me what's real, what's fake, what's important and what's wasteful. Good for those who can do as they please. Good for those with no guilt shame or inhibitions. I envy that shit...
 
 
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
 Rats on drugs...
There was a study involving solitary bored rats, and cocaine water vs rats with company, fun toys, and cocaine water. In the study the bored rats hit up the coke water way more often than the rats with toys and friends to hang out with. Now, what that study did not factor in, is the need humans have to work in order to live and get themselves those fun ass toys and friends to hang out with. If you have to stress about housing, feeding, and keeping up with your peers than you might want to hit that dope a little more often than usual. Rats aren't stupid enough to agree to do labor for their survival so using them to test human condition is a little bit pointless. 
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Dystopian Mice...
There was another study done with a giant rat colony called "the mouse utopia" experiment, it ended in over population, addiction, abnormal sexual practices, gender role reversal, low birth rates and mothers not caring for their young... All the things we see as acceptable (though still anomalous) behavior in the current year. People like to use this experiment to talk about the collapse of civilizations. Again these little fuckers are too smart to do labor and everything was pretty much just given freely to them. So to me it doesn't really count. 
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I'm gonna sing the doom song now...
The doom and gloom sayers on youtube believe that we are slowly being cut off from "live" social interaction while at the same time they alienate themselves from our "evolved" forms of social behavior screaming how bad it is... Is it because they fear the end or is it because they fear change and do not want to allow themselves to acclimate to a new way of life. There are still social gatherings, deep conversations, emotional connections, and physical meetings happening. These things are not gone, they are simply metamorphosed, to better utilize the tools we have created. 
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When the creator is changed by it's creation...
If we are to believe natural history records, human ancestors started out as dirt coated, rock flinging tribes, and through all kinds of random factors we made it to this point. The point where we have all grown dependent upon our tools. They are no longer tools, they are extensions of ourselves. I'm talking about our "smart phones" How could it not come to this? It's the full library of human knowledge at your fingertips. Whatever you want, knowledge, goods, pleasures of the flesh? It's there if you know how to look. Take it away now, after we have evolved to depend on it and many of us will not survive. The phrase "bad idea" applies to a whole bunch of shit here.
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Blessed be The Little Maker....
“The true Mason is not creed-bound. He realizes with the divine illumination of his lodge that as Mason his religion must be universal: Christ, Buddha or Mohammed, the name means little, for he recognizes only the light and not the bearer. He worships at every shrine, bows before every altar, whether in temple, mosque or cathedral, realizing with his truer understanding the oneness of all spiritual truth. All true Masons know that they only are heathen who, having great ideals, do not live up to them. They know that all religions are but one story told in divers ways for peoples whose ideals differ but whose great purpose is in harmony with Masonic ideals. North, east, south and west stretch the diversities of human thought, and while the ideals of man apparently differ, when all is said and the crystallization of form with its false concepts is swept away, one basic truth remains: all existing things are Temple Builders, laboring for a single end. No true Mason can be narrow, for his Lodge is the divine expression of all broadness. There is no place for little minds in a great work.” 
― Manly P. Hall
By Temple I sometimes think he just means, big giant places to gather up, spread ideas, make deals, and exploit each other. That's anything from a mosque to a movie theatre these days. 
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Zealotry and super fandom are pretty much the same thing...
Either way, a team of writers is influencing their life style. Have you ever met a doctor who fan in their 40's? It does not matter what the individual's race, religion, political view, gender idea, body type or mental capabilities are, They are Doctor Who fans and that is the whole point. There is no need to separate into tiny subgroups because there is no need for "safe spaces". There is no difference between one Doctor Who fan or another other than which iteration of him they admire most. If you ever wanted to see an example of peaceful Zealotry, go to a Doctor Who convention but don't dress as Colin Baker.
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It's bigger on the inside...
What makes us think life has any meaning? Take a moment to think. We are born in captivity, told we have free will, and given the option to become a slave or die. What's the point of that? Accumulate physical sensation however you can while you feed the mechanical desires of an unknown force. That is some philip k dick shit right fuckin' there! 
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Philip K Dick shit...
Bein' a fan of The Dick I am very familiar with the concept of cognitive dissonance. It's on wikipedia go look it up. You are shown one thing and told it is something else until you have no choice but to believe the misdirection in order to process and maintain "survival" in "consensus reality". Is the sky blue or is it red? Words lose and gain meaning at the will of the user. A person with the ability to use them with skill can change the way a society functions with as little as 7 syllables. 
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Crawling on The Planet's face... 
Have you ever taken the time to watch some ants in action? I need to call the exterminator. There are ants in my bathroom. they hang out mostly around the tub area, life giving water being what it is and all. Sometimes I lay on my stomach in the bathtub watching a couple of them run back and forth across the tiled walls. Once in a while I "play god" by swiping a wet soapy finger across their path. This causes every ant between the break to lose scent of the path and sense of direction. It severs the connection of communication that the ants are most adapt to, and the ones furthest from the "safe zone" end up committing suicide by bath water no matter how much I coax them toward their brethren closest to the exit. Even when they are dropped centimeters from the door, they wander away blindly, choosing to sacrifice themselves instead of just take a few steps forward. I heard about a study where ants were put in front of mirrors and were able to recognize that they were looking at their own individual reflections. The research was used to speculate that ants have individual intelligence and they left it at that. I am left to consider the fact that ants (at least the ones in my bathroom) are aware of their own individuality but have evolved to value their place in a structured collective so much, that they are no longer capable of considering life outside of it.
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
 But I haven't really done anything but spiral down into emotional instability and insanity since I started it. I guess self destruction can be an art form. 
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
I had my first instance of sleep paralysis last night. I felt myself wake up to a heavy force on top of me and another using the blankets to pin me down to the bed, I could breath (I think) but couldn't make any sound. I think I was probably still sleeping.. Anyway I hear this huge booming voice like the one from the "do what you love" dream... YOU HAVE TO OPEN YOUR EYES NOW! As soon as I heard it, I did it, and everything released right away. No pressure on my chest no, feeling of being pinned down under the blankets, just smooth calm breathing and sleeping cats all around me.

The dreams in the last few weeks have been note worthy. I'll type them out eventually.
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
Shut up Bonnie. Shut up Bonnie. Shut up Bonnie. Shut up Bonnie. Shut up Bonnie. No one fucking cares what you think or what you have to say. Just shut up and lay down. Be quiet and die. Why couldn't you just eat crow, take the punch, lay there and fake a smile? Why couldn't you just do what you were told? What you were taught.... What was expected of you? Why couldn't you just shut the fuck up and spread your legs like a good little girl? So why can't you? Why do you always have to be defective? Defiant? Why can't you just do what you are told? Nobody likes you anyway Bonnie. Even when you have your mouth full of cock no one really likes you. They just like what you can do. They shut their eyes and imagine someone else while you are screaming inside just to have your face touched. What makes you think you are anything more than a fuck doll anyway? What makes you think people want to hear... what you think? Are you that stupid to think you are creative? Do you think you can write? Do you honestly think anyone would fuckin' read it or pay to read it? What kind of ego is that? What kind of megolomaniacal bullshit do you have floating in your fucking head Bonnie Girl?
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
 

Why do I always feel a need to start these things with some sorta disclaimer like “I'm a weird mother fucker.”?

It's a warning, a promise, a threat, anyway yeah I'm a weird fucker, with a weird brain, that's been through some traumatic shit and learned how to cope by fuckin' around in fiction, religion, and mythology.

I started building my own universe and religious ideology in 1983 when I started keeping track of my “inner space” or you can just straight up call them “disassociations” in the form of a journal written as letters to a name I can not recall. I ain't as far gone as to believe my own shit (most of the time) but ideas and faith are fun as fuck to play with. So I do that more than dwell in reality, and sometimes I keep track. There are a hell of a lot of details and I thought maybe I should start writing about some of them before my brain stops working.

Alright that's outa the way.

I'm not going to start at the beginning. No. Today I'm going to talk about the entities I call “The Assholes in charge of The Synchronicity Department”. They are Chance, Circumstance and Coincidence, with their employer being Serendipity inc, a subsidiary of The Kallisti Corporation.

I often imagine the 3 of them sitting at desks with massive screens, placing tiny connections and patterns in each individual life. A meeting on the street, a comment on a post, a song on the radio, or any amount of passing dialogue or stimuli. Tiny details so small you could miss them, but they are there, pushing each of us into place toward some unknowable goal.

The boys in Synchronicity are trying really fuckin' hard to find ways to guide me into the next lesson or phase of life. Hhyup! And they will not shut the fuck up about it! The message, the path, the weird little connections and patterns it comes to “look into the abyss” or even better “walk into the abyss” I keep hearing it and seeing it over and over everywhere for the last 2 years. Sometimes it comes along with ideas like “Time and Morality are subjective”, “Let got of your past and don't feel guilty when you should be smiling.” The patterns get a little oddly specific and real hard to ignore sometimes. That last one especially hits me hard. Man I got some personal issues.

I mean, I know better and all that shit. I ain't special, important, unique, or anything more than some dumbass human chillin' on a mudball in space... But lately I feel like I keep being aimed at shit (shit being life of course). Or is it being aimed at me? Either way I can't really tell if I'm weak or resisting, but the lessons have been painful and I am still not where I am supposed to be.

One of the things that keeps coming up is the idea that I am not "home". I have real clear early childhood memories of crying “I want to go home” with all my might, a hell of a lot, but not a real clear memory of where “home” actually was. I think my mother and I moved a lot in her late teens. She had a bunch of jobs and school, I was an irritating little asshole that got in the way. She dumped me off on a lot of people. It lead to feelings of never really belonging anywhere as I got older. Even now as I examine the root causes and understand the symptomatic behavior, I find it hard to just “let go of the past” and stop reliving my own pain.

At the same time I ask why should I? Why should I let go? Why should I hold on? Why should I look or walk into or out of anything? What purpose does any of it serve? Where does it lead? why the fuck does it always have to be weird, stupid or painful and why am I compelled to know the fucking answer? Still The Assholes in Synchronicity are slapping me around, banging on pots and pans, and keeping me up at night with their banter about egos and abysses and still I have no idea what the fuck I'm supposed to do about it.

There is no past or future there is nothing but now. This very moment we are all wasting while I write and you read.

Wisdom from a lost soul. Hehh..

epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
A female friend who is tired of seeing me miserable, told me I should fill out a profile on a dating site.

I got to the part about what I am looking for in a match and sat for a minute before typing:

A co-dependent, philip k dick fan in his 50's, who reads comics, and enjoys ancient history, occult studies, doesn't use methamphetamine, and enjoys tantric sex. No egomaniacs need apply.

But then I hit backspace and deleted the profile all together.

Fuck dating sites. I really just want someone to talk to. Someone willing to share understanding with me. Someone to know me. I'd love to be able to just find that one man who is willing to face me when it is time to take our masks off.

The other day a male friend left a comment on a social media platform to me. Just a friend and to him it was just a passing comment. It wasn't much to him. It was something no man has ever said to me let alone out in public as such as he did.

“I adore you.”

I have wanted to be that kind of special to someone my whole life and now I don't know how to act.
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)

The first time I met a “psychic vampire” and knew something was “off” was when I met Lillee Allee the former “partner” of the man formerly known as Lord Egan of the “First Church of Satan” (that's another fun one). It was 2003 on the weekend of my 28th birthday, during a “gathering of minds” to celebrate the merging of two east coast based LHP organizations (that died all together in 2008).

Long story, short.. On the first evening after a full day of talks and fellowship, (bullshitting and bonding that egan and lillee did not take part in) we all decide to go to a chinese buffet and have a snackrifice in honor of the grand event. That is when they finally made the scene, they were dressed as spooky and sophisticated as two obese satanic “leaders” could dress. Pimp suit and miles of velvet and lace in all the wrong places... I digress.

Immediately, Lillee disrupts a conversation between myself and the only other female at the meeting (Shana) by loudly dragging a chair from the next table to plant herself between the two of us. From the moment her ass hits the chair, she starts to talk about herself. Not in that “Hi my name is Lillee.” kind of way, nope. We were already supposed to know who she was, but we still had to sit there and listen to everything she thought was important to know about her anyway.

It was all about her work with the cabot witches of salem, how she was a healer, reader of auras, see'er'er of spirits since she was a little girl... So many titles, special abilities and words from a woman who smelled like she showered in granny perfume and cat pee. She was so wrapped up in talking up of herself and her glorious magicks and workings that she did not notice Shana and I, making the subtle eye contact of commiseration. She was completely oblivious to us as she spoke, until someone asked Shana and my opinion.

Knowing my place as somewhere around the bottom, I nodded to Shana to speak first. Before Shana could get out “In my opin...” Lillee cut her off. I turned to face her with my head tilted and eyebrow raised (the “what bitch!?!” expression). I spoke to her directly for the first time... “Please allow Councilor Shana to speak. She is the elected female head.” I'm pretty sure my facial expression gave away the rest of what I was thinking (and you are just some spooky dude's girl toy)....

I did say long story short didn't I?

The evening progresses and Lillee keeps asking Shana and I extremely personal questions about childhood, family life and opinions on love and sexual nature. Purposely breaking us away from the general conversation of the group. This is a technique called cold reading. The predator acts as if they are some benevolent force come to make all the suffering go away, but they are simply collecting information based on your emotional reactions and body language even if you don't answer the question. When you are good at it you can twist billionaires into paying you 47 million dollars for “modern art”. My mom is real fuckin' good at it. Lillee wasn't.

What she ended up doing was using what she thought she learned about me to inform me that my “aura was sick”. It was brown and black, so full of self loathing and “so much suffering”. She knew exactly how to fix me, the rituals steps and crystals, come to her retreat, buy this book, let her show me how much better her way is. What she was really saying was.... “Come sit down at my old cat pee smellin' cankles and worship me, while I steal every single bit of your fire and will to feed my bloated ass ego.”

The weekend ended in me not giving a single fuck, and getting called “the most satanic being the universe” just for telling her, that her perfume made my lips hurt and reminded me of my nasty ass paternal grandmother (no I was not drunk that time!).

Oh 3 months after that meeting Egan faked his death and that shit was hella fuckin' hilarious!


epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
Dearest Edme,

Since you insisted on forcing yourself like a cold metal speculum into my life and relationship with "him" and insisted that you will haunt, belittle, torment, and abuse me for the duration of the relationship I decided now that it is over, you and I should get to know each other. So I'm about to get a bit personal with you sweetheart and you might not like it, but I will.

You remind me of my cousin Leeha.

When my father was put in charge of watching us both, she used to sit outside of his room and listen while he and his friends had “special time” with me. Sometimes she was allowed in to watch but it wasn't until I got my period at 10 years old that she was taken into the room and I was made to sit in the living room and be quiet.

I remember one day I was dumped at my father's house for his mandatory visitation weekend, my grandmother let me in and went back into her room to read her bible. I made my way into the living room and parked my ass in front of the tv. After an hour or so Leeha emerged from my father's bedroom, hair freshly brushed (he brushed my hair while I sucked his cock), fixing her shirt, and looking incredibly confused until she saw me sitting on the living room floor.

She walked up to me, kicked me hard in the side knocking me over, laughed as loud and cruel as a 7 year old child could and said “You're daddy says you are too old, fat and ugly, and he likes me better now.”

I was 10 years old, and the only person who ever showed me any sort of affection at all, rejected me for that poor attention starved child. That poor child was happy to take my place sucking and riding the dicks of junkie bikers while they recited crowley shit.

I had no idea I was being abused. I had no idea I could say no. I had no idea how terrible, wrong and fucking twisted my childhood was until my father rejected me.

I went home crying that sunday evening and I told my mother how sad I was and why. That's when I found out it was wrong. As I was sitting in a police station talking about the special positions and words I was to say, and that it has been going on my entire life, that's when I knew it was terribly terribly wrong.

Edme, I'm sad you have to lie about being like me to get attention. I'm sad you have to skim the underbelly of the occult world and still have to pay people to make yourself feel special. I'm sad that you have never truly known love or been respected as a person. I am sad that you are past your 40's and have the emotional and mental maturity of a 7 year old. I am sad that you are so old and still don't know you are being abused. but at the same time thank you...

Thank you, for hurting me. Thank you for being so fucking cruel, that you pushed me to the very limits of my sanity in order to get the fuck away from you. Thank you for being so evil and insecure that you forcibly inserted yourself like a rapist in places you do not belong just to destroy a relationship you were jealous of. Thank you for trying so fucking hard to break me, that you forced me to build myself up even stronger and better than before.

Thank you for fucking with my head so hard you made me push away a terrible toxic person that I would have done most anything for. Thank you. Thank you for being so fucking vile, evil, ignorant, and childish. Oh little whore of babylon thank you for taking the spot of ignorant willing victim to be sacrificed in my place at the alter of lies. It is you who will bleed, suffer, and die in my place.

As I scream the true name of the creator, shed my humanity and take flight on new wings, I look down on you, little whore of babylon. I look down and I smile because I know that each flower you pick from lucifer's garden is another dead plant. Another step closer to their complete and total extinction. Everything you touch will wilt and die and when you are all alone wondering why no one wants to play pretend magick with you, or watch you awkwardly masturbate on cam, I will be free, flying far above. Laughing at something else.

You are a weak pathetic predator who cries victim when they are beaten and feeds off of the pity, kindness, and empathy of others. You are the lowest of life forms, even below him.

Our mutual “friend” has a link to my blog where this very letter is posted in public. He is welcome to read it there. Special note, every reply to me will go in the blog to be picked apart in order to make you look exactly like what you truly are.

B.
Priestess of Despair and Queen of the Broken.
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
A long time ago back in 2002 to be exact, just a few hours before I was to go have gastric bypass surgery. I had a long moment with myself that changed more than just my outer shell.

I said to myself and “The Aether” I give up everything I am, everything I believed before, everything I used to be I give it all up. I said to myself and to The Aether, if I wake from this I am made new. All of the childish desires, the mindless material pursuits, even the desire to be Desired, I give it up in favor of being something better.

I told myself and whatever was listening, that if I woke from this, I would feed my mind as much as I could with as much as I could find, just as I had fed my bloated body before. I would feed my heart with gluttonous kindness to those in my life who need it and deserve it. I would seduce those around me with honesty and humility, and I would work toward understanding everything I possibly could about life on earth. A little grandiose for a 26 year old I know, but ambition is part of the human drive.

I swore that to myself without the desire for power, fame or fortune. I was not aiming to make myself a name or find myself being worshiped. I did not even consider the possibility of being recognized for anything. I traded my old self and all the materialistic fleshie desires that disgusting body represents, for Understanding. I traded comfortable sloppy overfed oversexed bonnie for a chance at a new life with new meaning.

I woke up alive.

On october 30th 2018, I was on my kitchen floor sobbing uncontrollably, because I could not stop thinking about things I have no control over. There were imaginary voices that were all mine, screaming at me that I was worthless, ugly, undesirable and just fucking stupid. I was sitting there screaming and freaking out because somebody didn't love me. The feelings of rejection was so fucking horrible I just wanted to fucking die right fucking there.

And then I heard a different voice that wasn't mine. Something else said, “Accept it. Feel it. Take it. Pain is the only truth, suffering is a choice. Accept it.”

I stopped crying, sat there in the middle of the floor wiping my face and thinking for what felt like an eternity. There was an overwhelming fear all around me. An overwhelming urge to just go get drunk and forget how fucking miserable I am over someone like "that man". But I just sat there sobbing and dripping with snot thinking about it all.

Accept it.

Pain is the only truth...

And now here we are. I understand fully and completely that the very nature of life is pain. Every time we hurt we are given an opportunity to learn a lesson and a new level of understanding we did not have before. If we choose to see it that is. I choose to see it. I choose to accept it. I accept sobriety, and all the ugly little monsters in my head.

Broken is beautiful, and Pain is a teacher.

I will never drink again.
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
Once I had a strange love,
a mad sort of insane love,
a love so fast and fierce I thought i'd die
yes once I had a strange love,
a pure but very pained love,
a love that burned like fire through a field
Oh once I had a strange love,
a childlike but deranged love,
a love that if were bottled it would kill.
See once I had a strange love,
a secret and untamed love,
a love that took no prisoners at all
And once I had a strange love
a psychic unexplained love,
a love that challenged scientific facts
And then there was that strange love,
that very badly trained love,
a love that needed discipline and fact
Once I had a strange love
a publicly acclaimed love,
the kind of love that's seen in magazines.
And once I had a strange love,
a beautiful but vain love,
a love I think it's better left in dreams
And once I had a strange love,
a morally inflamed love,
we'd go on holy battles in the nights
And then there was that strange love
that vulgar and profane love,
the kind of love that we don't talk about
Yes, once I had a strange love,
a lying infidel love,
who wove in stories like Sherazade
And once I had a strange love,
a flaky white kiki love,
we ran so fast we almost spilled our guts.
You see i've had some strange love,
some good, some bad, some plain love,
some so-so love, so what?...and c'est la vie…
but just let me proclaim, love,
that, out of all the strange love
you're the strangest love I've ever known….
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
my ex complained to me about his gout and loneliness and how no one is around for him (because he's a gross junkie) 2 days after I fought for my life against a would be rapist... because I was angry I said "come tell me about difficult times when you have to figure out how to cover human bite marks on your face and go to work the next day".... because he is incredibly self important, entitled, childish, and a seriously raving meth addict he skimmed the email and is now telling people I threatened his life. Um. Are you SO hung up on covering your own ass that you will reach for any straw to play victim and get pity? Anyone who would like to read the full context of conversation across both hangouts and gmail is welcome to hit me up for screen caps or they are welcome to remote desk top me and see the history first hand for themselves.
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
In December of 2016 I adopted a stubby little tuxedo cat with a fat neck and a dick shaped nose, from the feral colony close to my house. We went there to feed the cats like we had been once a week or so. Nothing special about the day at all.

There he was, sleek, thick and jet black, among the spindly gingers and tabbies of the colony. He sat so sweetly waiting while I filled plates with wet food, changed water bowls, and refilled dry food containers.

He followed a few steps behind as I laid out the plates of food for all of the other cats. When I was down to the last plate I sat down on the ground beside it and he did not hesitate to eat. Nor did he have a single problem with being pet while he ate.

Once all of the wet food was gone and the plates were cleaned up it was back to the car. We sat in the car looking at each other in silence for a few minutes. Both of us very aware that, that little black cat did not belong there and would not survive. I raise my left eyebrow ever so slightly and he says “FINE!! But you are handling the vet stuff!”

I opened the passenger side door, looked in the eyes of the sleek black shadow eyeing up the car, and I said “Get in the car Germaine.”

He did.

We now have a small army of kitten clones and two special ops agents.
Incidentally his name is now intermittently switched between St Germaine to GG Meowillen because sometimes he goes missing for months at a time, only to come home out of the blue all chewed up and beaten just to shit on my kitchen floor.

Hhyup. Cats.
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
I have the right to feel emotions.
I have the right to express those emotions.
I have the right to inform a person who is hurting me that they are doing so.
I have the right to make it stop.
I have the right to fight if it does not stop.
I have the right to live free of toxic self centered people.
I have the right to express rage.
I have the right to be angry.
I have the right to be free from abuse.
I have the right to be happy.
I have the right to be alive.
I am the master of my own life.
You do not have the right to take any of these things from me.
You do not have the right judge me.
You do not have the right to belittle me for my flaws.
You do not have the right to to force me into your will.
You have no power over me.
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
Listen...

You might think that my drinking is what drove a wedge between us and you'd be sorta right in that thinking... The reality is that every single time you put me into distress, abandoned me when I was emotional for any reason, lied to me, expected me to accept insanity and insults I drank to self medicate.

I ONLY DRINK TO SELF MEDICATE. The things that usually run throught my mind that “are not nice to say outloud” or are “hateful” or “mean” are what makes me want to drink. When I can not express myself. When I am being forced to shut up and play nice while I am fuming with unanswered and diverted questions... THAT IS WHAT MAKES ME DRINK. Not because I like getting fucked up, not because I am an alcoholic, not because I am full of self loathing. Because I am being forced into having to deal with someone else's false reality and I am not allowed to express myself.

That is why I drank. No other reason. You fucked with my head so god damned bad all the fucking time that I needed to be out of it. YES SIR you are the reason I started drinking heavy again after 4 years of vaguely only monthly. DEAL WITH IT!!! YOU ARE THE REASON I DRINK.

So yeah I'm kinda glad and maybe I aimed for the disintegration of the relationship. I know I went FUCKING HARD drinking after I caught you jerking off to the photo of your then 8 year old step daughter. You sure can have your fantasies but I was right there and that's fucked up and kinda sick. After that I was so freaked out at what you might be capable of, that I didn't wanna think about it.

Just like you hit that meth pipe every time you don't wanna think about being responsible for your own life, I drink because I don't wanna think about what I'm not responsible for.

The other night when you demanded me to come on cam and went off insulting me calling me drunk... Man you go fuck yourself for thinking you are important enough for me to drop things to talk to you. Fuck? What do you have to do with my life from 2500 miles away? I can't come see you at the drop of a hat, you can't touch me, you can't see me cry, know what I am doing without you? Why does it have to matter what you think of me? You don't know a single fucking thing about me. You have only listened to what you want to hear. You ignored every part of the rest because it made you feel something bad or upset you.

LIFE IS PAIN BABY!!!!!

ALWAYS AND FOREVER LIFE IS PAIN!!!!

You completely avoid knowing anything real about anyone, you avoid real social situations, you avoid true intimacy, and you avoid personal responsibility. GROW UP AND ACCEPT LIFE OR STOP IT!

You did ALL THAT SHIT TO YOURSELF. ALL OF IT!!! now own up!

I am sick of dealing with children who think everything they don't want to do or don't like to hear is bad mean upsetting or hateful.

THE TRUTH IS NOT PLEASANT OR GENTLE.

It is clear that no one ever disciplined you, taught you social interaction, intimacy, sharing, or object permanence. They all just smiled and did shit for you, leaving you alone, ignored and unsocialized.

GET OVER IT!!!!! YOU ARE OVER HALF A CENTURY OLD!!! NOT A CHILD!
epoxyshogun: Moist. (Default)
 So I decided to spend 4 hours writing about it instead of being all pissed off at the insult and getting drunk...

The level of emotional maturity of any one human being, can be surmised with a single multiple choice question. What do you really want to be remembered as when you die? Admired, Desired, Respected, Feared, or Worshiped?
As long as you are honest with yourself, every person you intend to maintain a recurrent relationship with, and you are self aware enough to know your limitations, than by all means do whatever you wish! Go ahead and build whatever intimate relationships you are comfortable with. Do it and have a ball, but do it in full honesty with a willingness to be walked away from, instead of manipulating your way toward a self gratifying “positive”. Just because you think you can do it does not mean you should.
Exploiting another life for basic “earthly” gratification is the absolute lowest a human can go. By lying and manipulating another human being into companionship, adoration, or other selfish gain, what you are really saying is that you feel that your true self is inadequate, unworthy, or unfit to be connected with beyond fleeting flesh.
It’s not really the “moral issue” that you should consider most, it is the issue of personal safety. Even the most mild mannered person can snap and you may find yourself being publicly shamed and ostracized from your community and social circles, or slowly tortured to death all because you just NEEDED to manipulate something out of someone. Do not start a fight if you have to cry and beg for mercy when you lose it.
For those who know to seek it, Emotional and Mental Connectivity is far different than veneration or worship. The first thing is extremely rare and can be incredibly profound. The second thing can be purchased on a street corner. Which would you prefer to waste your precious earthly time on?
“Love is a temporary chemical imbalance of the true state of mind.” -Drew Hayes from the comic book series Poison Elves.
Do not tell a person they are “The One” if you intend to keep seeking attention from those who are not. Either stick with it, or recognize that it is simple minded to believe that there is one single perfect person designed by the fates just for us... Yeah they are floating around makin' bad life choices, falling for all the wrong people while they wait around for you!
Love, more specifically everlasting love between two individuals, without complete and total compromise and willingness to walk through hell is a faerie tale most foul! Regardless of your preference for one partner or multiple at a time, there will always be conditions, compromise, complications, and ultimately an end.
If you maintain honesty, and openness and you are capable of recognizing and respecting the true will of others, you will find that long after the “romantic” aspect of a relationship is past, a friendship and kindness that comes from true understanding is formed.
No matter how you live your life, who, why, or how you choose to develop relationships with people you will never be content if you are not first honest with yourself.
And that is my 2 cents on emotional maturity.

Siiiiide note!!! Without even trying I managed to go through a whole blog post (sans first line and title) without using the word "I". Neat!!

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