I was evicted from the house on Fraser and 11th. I had a strange acquaintance with a crew of people that like in the end fell apart like most of my personal relationships do with most people.
I was so high that day I had to move that I left my house in the hands of a couple of these new "buddies" of mine and went to ride my bike. I was gone half the day, long after the 12 noon deadline that I had to be out of the place. I don't know why. But, being that high on speed and being on my bike I just can't ever seem to stop riding it. Which was funny because I had to move that day but instead after my buddy gave me a huge chunk of meth I went bike riding instead.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
God is a Racist Homophobe
I'm not really. I had my reasons. I couldn't just have you banding off together and becoming reclusive homosexual hermits all bundled up with the truth and going extinct with all this knowledge before you passed it on.
My biggest problem with homosexuality is that I went through all this trouble to make you and I like to watch you live. And, if you don't make another one of you I will miss you.
I know it happens. But, it just can't happen to much and especially not too much in little clans and such as you once were.
Remember, don't judge. Let me be the judge because my judgment is perfect.
Otherwise, I will have to judge you.
And, there are rooms in my house for everybody.
My biggest problem with homosexuality is that I went through all this trouble to make you and I like to watch you live. And, if you don't make another one of you I will miss you.
I know it happens. But, it just can't happen to much and especially not too much in little clans and such as you once were.
Remember, don't judge. Let me be the judge because my judgment is perfect.
Otherwise, I will have to judge you.
And, there are rooms in my house for everybody.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
44 Doors in Hell
This was one of the most telling and strange times for me. I had been arrested, again, I can't even remember for what this time, but I was in the down town Vancouver police lock up for the night.
I was by myself in my own little cell with a blanket and a mattress on the floor. I had learned before that if you say you feel suicidal when the cops are booking you in they have to segregate you from the rest of the riffraff they have in general cells that night and if you are good they will also give you a blanket and a mattress. Otherwise they toss you into a cell with a bunch of other losers and no soft and warm amenities.
The place was raucous that night. Even from my segregated cell in a closed off little loop of four segregated cells away from the general population I could hear them. The other prisoners were yelling and screaming and laughing about who knows what. It was loud.
That night Satan himself came to keep me entertained in my cell. While we did have to have a serious discussion between us the rest of the night was absolutely, downright hilarious. You just don't know how funny Satan can be till you meet him.
He came to me as a big green dragon with acrid plumes of sulfur coming from his nostrils, curling up towards the ceiling of the jail cell. And, of course he lied to me right of the bat. He always lies to me every time he comes. This time he told me he was my new friend Joker whom I had just met down town. It took me awhile to figure this out. It was Satan not my friend Joker playing mind games on me and telling stories about some of the features of hell.
I was by myself in my own little cell with a blanket and a mattress on the floor. I had learned before that if you say you feel suicidal when the cops are booking you in they have to segregate you from the rest of the riffraff they have in general cells that night and if you are good they will also give you a blanket and a mattress. Otherwise they toss you into a cell with a bunch of other losers and no soft and warm amenities.
The place was raucous that night. Even from my segregated cell in a closed off little loop of four segregated cells away from the general population I could hear them. The other prisoners were yelling and screaming and laughing about who knows what. It was loud.
That night Satan himself came to keep me entertained in my cell. While we did have to have a serious discussion between us the rest of the night was absolutely, downright hilarious. You just don't know how funny Satan can be till you meet him.
He came to me as a big green dragon with acrid plumes of sulfur coming from his nostrils, curling up towards the ceiling of the jail cell. And, of course he lied to me right of the bat. He always lies to me every time he comes. This time he told me he was my new friend Joker whom I had just met down town. It took me awhile to figure this out. It was Satan not my friend Joker playing mind games on me and telling stories about some of the features of hell.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
God is tasered on Christmas day
God, in me, was walking to my mom's house on Christmas morning when I was tasered by the police over a false police call.
I was walking all the way from Surrey to Heather street in Vancouver. It's a long walk. A really long walk. But, like usual I was on speed so this kind of long walking was very normal to me. I had been at Val's house all night long smoking speed and getting laid, Val is one crazy fuck and it's hard for me to think about taking speed without going to see Val at least once. (Val and I fucked for 72 hours straight before. We fucked for so long that I had to start using margarine from the fridge as lubricant. It was amazing!)
The walk from Val's apartment in Surrey to Vancouver is part of a system of hikers paths and bike trails that start in Vancouver around Stanley Park and end up way out in the various other cities that connect to Vancouver. I was talking this trail.
I started out on the trail very early in the morning so that I could be at my mom's by about 10 or 11 am. I was dressed in some of my very best clothing for the occasion. I had brought them with me to Val's knowing that was my plan for the next morning. Clothes then were joke. I had found and collected so much clothing over the last year riding my bike and raiding the big blue garbage dumpsters lining the alleys of Vancouver and surrounding areas that I had 5 giant city recycling bins in my apartment full of clothing and still it wasn't enough. Of all this I had picked out some the very finest stuff to wear.
I walked over the bridge from Surrey to New West which led to a trail that took along the waterfront towards the train station. Along the way and by the railroad tracks yet still on the path and certainly not on any private property owned by the rail road nor anybody else I saw what looked like a small pile of discarded clothing.
It was raining. I had no bag or backpack with me. I was on my way to spend Christmas at my mother's house. It was 8 o'clock in the morning Christmas day. But, because of my compulsive addiction to collecting all the discarded clothing that I came across on my meth journeys I just couldn't help but stop to take a look at them. They looked like a nice pile of work clothes. A jacket, maybe a shirt a couple pairs of jeans.
I grabbed a stick and started to poke at them. Usually, I would just dive right in there with my hands and start inspecting the condition of my finds to see if it was worth it to take them. But, I had my best Sunday dress on so I was a lot more careful. I was already wet from the rain and I didn't want to get any spoiled clothing goo on myself before I went to my mothers to celebrate Christmas.
I picked at the pile and managed to turn over the jacket and lift up one of the shirts. They must have been there for a very long time because as I rattled the shirt at the end of the stick it began to fall apart like wet tissue. That was the end of that. I was not going to bother these.
I began to walk back to the trail, a distance of about 15 feet, from the log that the clothes lay on back through the giant mud puddle I had to carefully traverse by steeping on my heels and picking out elevated spots to skip to when about halfway back I heard,
"Lie Down!',
and, looking up I saw a cop directing to me to lay down on the spot. I said,
"I can't. I don't want to lie down in a puddle".
He commanded me again,
"Get on the Ground!".
Again, I replied.
"But, it's a puddle."
Then, without a moments more notice I was suddenly flipped over onto the ground straight into the giant mud puddle and I lay there electrocuted by a shot from his partners taser who had been creeping up from behind me.
I was walking all the way from Surrey to Heather street in Vancouver. It's a long walk. A really long walk. But, like usual I was on speed so this kind of long walking was very normal to me. I had been at Val's house all night long smoking speed and getting laid, Val is one crazy fuck and it's hard for me to think about taking speed without going to see Val at least once. (Val and I fucked for 72 hours straight before. We fucked for so long that I had to start using margarine from the fridge as lubricant. It was amazing!)
The walk from Val's apartment in Surrey to Vancouver is part of a system of hikers paths and bike trails that start in Vancouver around Stanley Park and end up way out in the various other cities that connect to Vancouver. I was talking this trail.
I started out on the trail very early in the morning so that I could be at my mom's by about 10 or 11 am. I was dressed in some of my very best clothing for the occasion. I had brought them with me to Val's knowing that was my plan for the next morning. Clothes then were joke. I had found and collected so much clothing over the last year riding my bike and raiding the big blue garbage dumpsters lining the alleys of Vancouver and surrounding areas that I had 5 giant city recycling bins in my apartment full of clothing and still it wasn't enough. Of all this I had picked out some the very finest stuff to wear.
I walked over the bridge from Surrey to New West which led to a trail that took along the waterfront towards the train station. Along the way and by the railroad tracks yet still on the path and certainly not on any private property owned by the rail road nor anybody else I saw what looked like a small pile of discarded clothing.
It was raining. I had no bag or backpack with me. I was on my way to spend Christmas at my mother's house. It was 8 o'clock in the morning Christmas day. But, because of my compulsive addiction to collecting all the discarded clothing that I came across on my meth journeys I just couldn't help but stop to take a look at them. They looked like a nice pile of work clothes. A jacket, maybe a shirt a couple pairs of jeans.
I grabbed a stick and started to poke at them. Usually, I would just dive right in there with my hands and start inspecting the condition of my finds to see if it was worth it to take them. But, I had my best Sunday dress on so I was a lot more careful. I was already wet from the rain and I didn't want to get any spoiled clothing goo on myself before I went to my mothers to celebrate Christmas.
I picked at the pile and managed to turn over the jacket and lift up one of the shirts. They must have been there for a very long time because as I rattled the shirt at the end of the stick it began to fall apart like wet tissue. That was the end of that. I was not going to bother these.
I began to walk back to the trail, a distance of about 15 feet, from the log that the clothes lay on back through the giant mud puddle I had to carefully traverse by steeping on my heels and picking out elevated spots to skip to when about halfway back I heard,
"Lie Down!',
and, looking up I saw a cop directing to me to lay down on the spot. I said,
"I can't. I don't want to lie down in a puddle".
He commanded me again,
"Get on the Ground!".
Again, I replied.
"But, it's a puddle."
Then, without a moments more notice I was suddenly flipped over onto the ground straight into the giant mud puddle and I lay there electrocuted by a shot from his partners taser who had been creeping up from behind me.
Monday, February 14, 2011
The use of the pronoun I vs God
This book will take on a whole new dimension and more powerful and significant meaning if I change the personal pronoun of I to God, and me to the Lord etc. We'll see. I'll try. But, definitely something to remember for the edits.
The story is after all His. In me.
The story is after all His. In me.
The last time I watched television
The last time I watched television when I began taking speed I saw president Bush waving on a big navy war craft heralding the triumph of our war in Iraq. Which is funny because for the next 3 years I had no idea that the country had gone back to war against Afghanistan. Even though I was in Canada and they joined us in this war I was so high and so oblivious to anything else in my world except my bike and riding my bike and doing things on my bike etc. that I thought America had successfully ended the war and gone home.
I even emailed out a series of heartfelt congratulations letters in the name of the Hells Angels MC and Sonny Barger to all my usual contacts around the world. Man, was I high.
Later on this limited knowledge of our worlds events would come back to haunt me and possibly even the turning events of the world that I wish sometimes had not happened. But, so it is.
I even emailed out a series of heartfelt congratulations letters in the name of the Hells Angels MC and Sonny Barger to all my usual contacts around the world. Man, was I high.
Later on this limited knowledge of our worlds events would come back to haunt me and possibly even the turning events of the world that I wish sometimes had not happened. But, so it is.
The Seven Deadly Pyschiatric Disorders That Require Big Pharma Intervention
Like a Good Neighbor Big Pharma is There.The seven disorders that need to be corrected are: wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony. They need to be "corrected" in humankind because the corruption of Satan and evil was too powerful a force for humankind to defend against.
Thus, you are imperfect. And, this imperfection now requires the Lord's work, grace and blessing to undue. Satan, in his diabolical ways has corrupted you not only in your mind but in your body too. Only Big Pharma offers an immediate albeit temporary solution to the damage done by Satan and his demons.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Because, we were getting evicted
Because, we were getting evicted from that really nice little house that Carolyn had on the corner of Thurlow and Davie I decided to make up some fliers looking room mates to help us pay the outstanding rent.
I went to the community center down in the middle of Vancouver's west end, the one with the little used clothing store I use to frequent and sat down at one of the free computers for use on the ground floor. I opened up the Wordpad program and began to think out the wording of my ad.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the computer station beside me had suddenly been occupied by some strange person who really seemed more intent on reading what I was writing about on Wordpad than anything else he should have been doing besides obviously watching me.
I was quite use to this by now, having spent the better half of the last three years smoking copious quantities speed daily and noticing more and more how the people of Vancouver seemed to be following me a lot. I was getting quite good at ignoring it, the paranoia when it seemed appropriate. But, at the same time I always knew that it was true. These people, these weird little creeps, liked to follow me because I was so high all the time.
So, using the knowledge I learned in business college about word processing programs I crafted quite the nice little advertisement soliciting shared living arrangements to save the rent in our little heritage house on Davie street. All the while ignoring the peeping tom beside me while he watched me type getting more and more in a huff about something. I knew what it was. He was angry because I knew how to write a nice, professional ad. He was angry because I knew how to read. That's how petty this was in the end between me and the populace of Vancouver BC.
And, I reveled in it. I loved it. Always showing these people up who like to bother me with their time.
I typed it. After a long time dealing with the volunteer staff at the counter, who didn't like me either, because I was so stoned all the time when I was shopping upstairs, I finally printed a few copies and then I left. I went back to my gorgeous heritage house full of drug addicts smoking crystal meth and peeking out the windows of my house in the heart of one of down town Vancouver's most prestigious little neighborhoods.
I didn't post any of my ads. Not yet, I wanted to show them to Carolyn first and run this plan by her. We have to get rid of all the homeless crystal meth bums that had invaded the house. Carolyn let them all in when she was high, even though I had warned that crystal meth will make her feel quite charitable to all her 'new' crystal meth friends. But, please don't allow them to ever spend the night here because these are homeless run aways and bums who will never leave again if you do. And, that is what had happened. She started letting them stay overnight and now we had about thirty of them revolving around the house on a full time basis and not one of them paying the rent.
But, Carolyn was not home when I got back from trying to do something remotely responsible about the house. So, I had to wait.
And, then later on about seven o'clock in the evening, Carolyn was still gone, I had not posted any of my room mate wanted ads anywhere but only on the screen of that computer while I was being watched by some fucking troll, down at the community center, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door. There was a drunken, stinking, derelict bum who must have been dragged from an alley somewhere by the promise of a quick twenty bucks standing there.
He said, 'I heard, you were renting rooms'.
cont...
I went to the community center down in the middle of Vancouver's west end, the one with the little used clothing store I use to frequent and sat down at one of the free computers for use on the ground floor. I opened up the Wordpad program and began to think out the wording of my ad.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the computer station beside me had suddenly been occupied by some strange person who really seemed more intent on reading what I was writing about on Wordpad than anything else he should have been doing besides obviously watching me.
I was quite use to this by now, having spent the better half of the last three years smoking copious quantities speed daily and noticing more and more how the people of Vancouver seemed to be following me a lot. I was getting quite good at ignoring it, the paranoia when it seemed appropriate. But, at the same time I always knew that it was true. These people, these weird little creeps, liked to follow me because I was so high all the time.
So, using the knowledge I learned in business college about word processing programs I crafted quite the nice little advertisement soliciting shared living arrangements to save the rent in our little heritage house on Davie street. All the while ignoring the peeping tom beside me while he watched me type getting more and more in a huff about something. I knew what it was. He was angry because I knew how to write a nice, professional ad. He was angry because I knew how to read. That's how petty this was in the end between me and the populace of Vancouver BC.
And, I reveled in it. I loved it. Always showing these people up who like to bother me with their time.
I typed it. After a long time dealing with the volunteer staff at the counter, who didn't like me either, because I was so stoned all the time when I was shopping upstairs, I finally printed a few copies and then I left. I went back to my gorgeous heritage house full of drug addicts smoking crystal meth and peeking out the windows of my house in the heart of one of down town Vancouver's most prestigious little neighborhoods.
I didn't post any of my ads. Not yet, I wanted to show them to Carolyn first and run this plan by her. We have to get rid of all the homeless crystal meth bums that had invaded the house. Carolyn let them all in when she was high, even though I had warned that crystal meth will make her feel quite charitable to all her 'new' crystal meth friends. But, please don't allow them to ever spend the night here because these are homeless run aways and bums who will never leave again if you do. And, that is what had happened. She started letting them stay overnight and now we had about thirty of them revolving around the house on a full time basis and not one of them paying the rent.
But, Carolyn was not home when I got back from trying to do something remotely responsible about the house. So, I had to wait.
And, then later on about seven o'clock in the evening, Carolyn was still gone, I had not posted any of my room mate wanted ads anywhere but only on the screen of that computer while I was being watched by some fucking troll, down at the community center, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door. There was a drunken, stinking, derelict bum who must have been dragged from an alley somewhere by the promise of a quick twenty bucks standing there.
He said, 'I heard, you were renting rooms'.
cont...
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Religion and Spirituality Links
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
The Police Steal My Bicycle
HOLY CRAP WAS I EVER PISSED. That is all I can say. It was my favorite bike. A Halloween orange and black GT Hard Rock. And, it was my pride and joy. Man, I loved that bike. It was Chachi's 200 Anniversary Special. The 200th bike that had Chachi had managed to pick up and ride because of his special relationship with his riding sponsors. And, he had sold it to me for a song. He needed a cell phone and I just happened to have the cash to buy him one that day and the deal was done. History was made in heaven. That was my favorite bike in the whole world and I learned nearly all the skills I acquired from practicing everyday of the week for months on end on that bike. I knew it like I know my mother.
So, when the police in Vancouver BC outright stole it from me because, I am only assuming in that I am giving the officer who took it the benefit of the doubt, that they were pissed off at me over my antics from the previous night. Otherwise, quite literally, this cop just came up to me in the parking lot beside the Pharmasave on the corner Davie and Thurlow street and mugged me for my bike. It has to be the doubt that any officer of the law in Vancouver, unless he was on acid, would bluntly steal my bike while on duty right out in front of the community police office in broad daylight.
So, I know why they took my bike. But, it was the fact that this officer of the law actually literally stole it from me that was the straw that ruptured the camels spleen.
I was utterly horrified that he actually broke the law in uniform before me. There are many points where this story really does take off and this was definitely one of them. I was never the same again. I can break the law. I'm not a cop. But, he can't. When this cop decided to actually steal my bicycle to get back at me for something I was doing to them into the wee morn hours to bother them he broke the law. That was utterly inexcusably and indefensible. I didn't care anymore.
I lost my faith that day. All at once it was gone. It was the contract; It was the social contract of Locke and Hume that I lost.
And, it can be that easy too, to tick off an angel. I can be just one tiny itsy bitsy teeny weeny little shitty stupid fucking thing to you man. But, because we angels are perfect in that way it can mean the end of the world to us. And, when the cop illegitimately stole my bike from that day that's what it meant to me, war.
It has to be that way with us angels because we put the law above ourselves. That's just how we come shipped out of the box, perfect. If you break a contract with us, angels, that's it. It means war.
So, when the police in Vancouver BC outright stole it from me because, I am only assuming in that I am giving the officer who took it the benefit of the doubt, that they were pissed off at me over my antics from the previous night. Otherwise, quite literally, this cop just came up to me in the parking lot beside the Pharmasave on the corner Davie and Thurlow street and mugged me for my bike. It has to be the doubt that any officer of the law in Vancouver, unless he was on acid, would bluntly steal my bike while on duty right out in front of the community police office in broad daylight.
So, I know why they took my bike. But, it was the fact that this officer of the law actually literally stole it from me that was the straw that ruptured the camels spleen.
I was utterly horrified that he actually broke the law in uniform before me. There are many points where this story really does take off and this was definitely one of them. I was never the same again. I can break the law. I'm not a cop. But, he can't. When this cop decided to actually steal my bicycle to get back at me for something I was doing to them into the wee morn hours to bother them he broke the law. That was utterly inexcusably and indefensible. I didn't care anymore.
I lost my faith that day. All at once it was gone. It was the contract; It was the social contract of Locke and Hume that I lost.
And, it can be that easy too, to tick off an angel. I can be just one tiny itsy bitsy teeny weeny little shitty stupid fucking thing to you man. But, because we angels are perfect in that way it can mean the end of the world to us. And, when the cop illegitimately stole my bike from that day that's what it meant to me, war.
It has to be that way with us angels because we put the law above ourselves. That's just how we come shipped out of the box, perfect. If you break a contract with us, angels, that's it. It means war.
This is a pivotal scene. Needs ore exposition of how I was becoming. Something like this; Here I am an ambassador from heaven and you steal my bike? Like WTF plebe? You have to be a little more prepared that anyone of you may meet Him in any fucked up mangled form he wants. And, you better get it right. Or else He is just gonna freak out man. I mean that's what he's like. Read the book. He freaks out man. Like He literally just fucking freaks the fuck out if you don't get it right. That's kinda what I felt like around then. Like, 'Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, I know already this is just not gonna do it for him.'
The day I figured out what was wrong with you
No, I meant the day I figured out what is wrong with me, lol. But, it could be taken either way in my eyes. I have narcolepsy. It is a rare sleep disorder that causes one to essentially never sleep properly. And, you can't imagine the difficulties the symptoms of this condition presented in my life that made my life completely unmanageable and utterly by my own emotional reckoning of it, devastated. Just completely and utterly devastated in the eyes of the poor little boy who had to grow up with this condition, unknown to him and unknown to the other people around him in his shattered little world of inconsistency and abysmal failures in every sense of what is normally expected of a bright little boy otherwise. I felt sorry for Jesus as I had to watch him cry in the absolutely still darkness of the second coming of his life. The devil had a duty to uphold the prophecy of his dark world but he did not have to be cruel. And, he was cruel. Phillip Billy was cruel.
God had also a duty to come to this world and experience all the pain within it. But, who knew that it would be so hard for this little guy, this little super trooper of ours, as he tried to comprehend what the only the darkness and I as God up above in a circle of angels knew. His emotional pain and suffering was absolutely necessary and only accomplished if he was suspended in the darkness without a light to realize why his surreal pain was not normal. And, he almost broke through the darkness to the light. Several times in his life he would proclaim to know that he was Jesus only to be ridiculed. It was a very sad but nonetheless a very necessary event in the fruition of God's very serious plan for all of humanity. Narcolepsy was the only way to keep our god man animated enough to live his life yet still remain at bay.
God had also a duty to come to this world and experience all the pain within it. But, who knew that it would be so hard for this little guy, this little super trooper of ours, as he tried to comprehend what the only the darkness and I as God up above in a circle of angels knew. His emotional pain and suffering was absolutely necessary and only accomplished if he was suspended in the darkness without a light to realize why his surreal pain was not normal. And, he almost broke through the darkness to the light. Several times in his life he would proclaim to know that he was Jesus only to be ridiculed. It was a very sad but nonetheless a very necessary event in the fruition of God's very serious plan for all of humanity. Narcolepsy was the only way to keep our god man animated enough to live his life yet still remain at bay.
Monday, February 7, 2011
I remember when God condemned Canada to hell.
I am living now about a block away from the area of Vancouver BC called the downtown east side from where the majority of the victims found butchered and fed to farm animals on Willy Pickton's farm came from. And, I remember the day that God himself came down to this part of town with me or, more literally in me, this was after Jesus had left me for heaven, and instantly God completely freaked out.
I mean like He literally freaked right the fuck out. It was unbelievable. He had me writing emails and letters to all the governments in the world telling them of the consequences, if any be, to them, if he ever caught anyone one of them even trying to run anything even remotely similar to this very, very fucking illegal modern day Sodom and/or Gomorrah called the downtown east side of Vancouver BC. In a heartbeat He condemned the entire modern country of Canada, minus a few judicious exclusions like the native Indians and the Canadian military, straight to fucking hell. He called Canada the Anti-Christ - a system of hopelessness.
He had me writing to all the governments of the world, through automated email software, the horrors of crossing the legal line both in heaven and hell of Satan's touchstone of evil. He had me telling them, all the governments of this world, just what will happen to any country that happens to rub themselves up against the touchstone of evil and how quickly God's angel will come to both defend the honor of Satan's possession and avenge the infraction against our Lord God.
He went on and on and on for weeks into months and even years on this topic, even long after I had informed G-d of the possible conflicts of interest that His letter writing campaign, through me, might cause some of the other nations that he does care for and consequently sequestered the rest of His campaign to sending messages finally to the CIA and the FBI only. But, you have to imagine that behind all the world's scenes there I was writing to all the world's media and all the world's governments and all the worlds police departments, in the first person of God, his utter shock and horror and disdain and impending wrath over the rampant, overt and highly suspicious drug abuse in this neighborhood called the downtown east side of Vancouver, Canada.
And, all the horrible things he had to say about a country, let alone a province or even a city that had allowed the actual being of the systemic Anti-Christ to become on their watch. All, the horrible things He has said that He is going to do to this country and then proved quite literally how I was emailing out the media of the world at that time. And, then G-d and I would watch.
We would watch their exquisite and squirming faces on the local news as they began to realize that I was, this ostensible wannabe Hells Angels Motorcycle Club member, (which is another story all it's own and in fully God's way utterly incredible till it happens to you and painful), also sending these biblical notices of contractual termination, alongside my emails of the revelation of the Holy Anointing Oil as indeed a primitive form Crystal Meth along with Manna and, in prophetically good form and ultimate timing, giving me the credibility and authority to pen such notices, behind the scenes no less, that God himself is no longer going to save Canada nor any Canadians from His Wrath because it is in and of itself become the biblical Anti-Christ. Because of the downtown east side of Vancouver BC and what ultimately must have have happened outside the Pickton farm before any of these women showed up the dead for an untimely burial and disposal from public and prying eyes God has condemned all of Canada to hell, period. Case closed. Judgment delivered. In real time. By the angel of God. Me.
And, ultimately all believable if you where there to follow all my letters to the powers that be in this world in the order that I sent them so that the recipients may know that indeed Christ, as I, have both come and gone, as is written, and all that is left is the flesh and blood of God in which His spirit does dwell, unabashed. In the same way now that I am going to write this book so that anyone who reads this will always know the truth of my second coming and the reality of the judgment rendered by me, Jesus Christ, in heaven above now, in regards to Canada and, the many others who are in violation of simple hope and thus in fact Anti-Christ.
And, of course what can be done about that before my spirit does deliver my fathers wrath against you.
I mean like He literally freaked right the fuck out. It was unbelievable. He had me writing emails and letters to all the governments in the world telling them of the consequences, if any be, to them, if he ever caught anyone one of them even trying to run anything even remotely similar to this very, very fucking illegal modern day Sodom and/or Gomorrah called the downtown east side of Vancouver BC. In a heartbeat He condemned the entire modern country of Canada, minus a few judicious exclusions like the native Indians and the Canadian military, straight to fucking hell. He called Canada the Anti-Christ - a system of hopelessness.
He had me writing to all the governments of the world, through automated email software, the horrors of crossing the legal line both in heaven and hell of Satan's touchstone of evil. He had me telling them, all the governments of this world, just what will happen to any country that happens to rub themselves up against the touchstone of evil and how quickly God's angel will come to both defend the honor of Satan's possession and avenge the infraction against our Lord God.
He went on and on and on for weeks into months and even years on this topic, even long after I had informed G-d of the possible conflicts of interest that His letter writing campaign, through me, might cause some of the other nations that he does care for and consequently sequestered the rest of His campaign to sending messages finally to the CIA and the FBI only. But, you have to imagine that behind all the world's scenes there I was writing to all the world's media and all the world's governments and all the worlds police departments, in the first person of God, his utter shock and horror and disdain and impending wrath over the rampant, overt and highly suspicious drug abuse in this neighborhood called the downtown east side of Vancouver, Canada.
And, all the horrible things he had to say about a country, let alone a province or even a city that had allowed the actual being of the systemic Anti-Christ to become on their watch. All, the horrible things He has said that He is going to do to this country and then proved quite literally how I was emailing out the media of the world at that time. And, then G-d and I would watch.
We would watch their exquisite and squirming faces on the local news as they began to realize that I was, this ostensible wannabe Hells Angels Motorcycle Club member, (which is another story all it's own and in fully God's way utterly incredible till it happens to you and painful), also sending these biblical notices of contractual termination, alongside my emails of the revelation of the Holy Anointing Oil as indeed a primitive form Crystal Meth along with Manna and, in prophetically good form and ultimate timing, giving me the credibility and authority to pen such notices, behind the scenes no less, that God himself is no longer going to save Canada nor any Canadians from His Wrath because it is in and of itself become the biblical Anti-Christ. Because of the downtown east side of Vancouver BC and what ultimately must have have happened outside the Pickton farm before any of these women showed up the dead for an untimely burial and disposal from public and prying eyes God has condemned all of Canada to hell, period. Case closed. Judgment delivered. In real time. By the angel of God. Me.
And, ultimately all believable if you where there to follow all my letters to the powers that be in this world in the order that I sent them so that the recipients may know that indeed Christ, as I, have both come and gone, as is written, and all that is left is the flesh and blood of God in which His spirit does dwell, unabashed. In the same way now that I am going to write this book so that anyone who reads this will always know the truth of my second coming and the reality of the judgment rendered by me, Jesus Christ, in heaven above now, in regards to Canada and, the many others who are in violation of simple hope and thus in fact Anti-Christ.
And, of course what can be done about that before my spirit does deliver my fathers wrath against you.
I am all Hopped Up on Goofballs
I had a great day today. I got my disability benefits reinstated and I went and got my prescription for Modafinil filled at the pharmacy. (Thank you to my great doctors at Dr. Murphy's clinic on Granville Street).
So, I am all hopped up on my stimulant medications and can now think and write clearly. It's been about three or four days now that I have gone without stimulant medication and I have been reluctant to add any more scenes to my book for fear that in that stupor of half wake/half sleep I cannot write comprehensibly. I feel so much better knowing that I can think straight.
I read some reviews of books in the Georgia Straight and the Westender, a couple of local and free rags here in Vancouver, and I have been inspired somewhat by what I have read about other peoples writing.
I am having a problem giving this book a traditional narrative structure because it is, for the most part, not a novel but, a memoir or a biography. Having read the review of the book Soul Mining written by Daniel Lanois and reviewed by Alexander Varty in the Georgia Straight has reminded me that a book such as mine does not have to be altogether in any order but, can also be a collection of memories written as haphazardly as the author of Soul Mining, Daniel Lanois does in his collection of memoirs.
That is great news for me. As, more and more parts of this book come to me in any particular order while I am sitting on the bus or waiting in my doctors or going to the store. I am always saying to myself 'Oh, that's good. That's going in the book' but, on coming back to my blog later to add all those different thoughts, like this one, they have no narrative structure to fill.
Thus, many go unwritten as I look to my my list of scenes and realize that there is no room for these soliloquies alongside the structure of the story. Thank G-d for the blog. It makes adding a collection of thoughts possible as I drive the narrative forward.
In keeping with my new rituals of adding at least the beginning of one new scene a day to this book of mine I am going to review my list of scenes to write and add another one right now. See you in the next post.
So, I am all hopped up on my stimulant medications and can now think and write clearly. It's been about three or four days now that I have gone without stimulant medication and I have been reluctant to add any more scenes to my book for fear that in that stupor of half wake/half sleep I cannot write comprehensibly. I feel so much better knowing that I can think straight.
I read some reviews of books in the Georgia Straight and the Westender, a couple of local and free rags here in Vancouver, and I have been inspired somewhat by what I have read about other peoples writing.
I am having a problem giving this book a traditional narrative structure because it is, for the most part, not a novel but, a memoir or a biography. Having read the review of the book Soul Mining written by Daniel Lanois and reviewed by Alexander Varty in the Georgia Straight has reminded me that a book such as mine does not have to be altogether in any order but, can also be a collection of memories written as haphazardly as the author of Soul Mining, Daniel Lanois does in his collection of memoirs.
That is great news for me. As, more and more parts of this book come to me in any particular order while I am sitting on the bus or waiting in my doctors or going to the store. I am always saying to myself 'Oh, that's good. That's going in the book' but, on coming back to my blog later to add all those different thoughts, like this one, they have no narrative structure to fill.
Thus, many go unwritten as I look to my my list of scenes and realize that there is no room for these soliloquies alongside the structure of the story. Thank G-d for the blog. It makes adding a collection of thoughts possible as I drive the narrative forward.
In keeping with my new rituals of adding at least the beginning of one new scene a day to this book of mine I am going to review my list of scenes to write and add another one right now. See you in the next post.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
I'm all settled into my new place in Canada
It's Saturday the 5th of February 2011 and I have already spent two nights here in my new place. So far so good. The internet works, the kitchen works, the shower, the toilet, everything seems to be in order for me to be able to keep writing this book. I could use my meds though. I have been through this before and have actually swore to never go through this again. So, today, tomorrow or Monday I have to get to the doctor's office to get my prescription for Modafinil.
I haven't been able to stay awake since they ran out and my appetite is starting to creep up on me and I certainly don't feel altogether alert nor awake. Mind you it has been a bit refreshing to be off from stimulants for two days in a row now but I am already missing the better feeling of normal that my pills give me.
I'm not even sure that I want to do much more than add to my journal during this time. I know how hard and confusing it is to try and concentrate half asleep. We'll see. I am still so eager to write.
I haven't been able to stay awake since they ran out and my appetite is starting to creep up on me and I certainly don't feel altogether alert nor awake. Mind you it has been a bit refreshing to be off from stimulants for two days in a row now but I am already missing the better feeling of normal that my pills give me.
I'm not even sure that I want to do much more than add to my journal during this time. I know how hard and confusing it is to try and concentrate half asleep. We'll see. I am still so eager to write.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
I can just imagine the CIA...
I can just imagine the CIA trying to explain Barack Obama that the Lord had just emailed us again, lol.
It would probably go something like this,
'Um, sir. We have reason to believe that the Lord Our God, the second coming has been emailing us his thoughts and opinions on His Second Coming' Can you imagine? Don't laugh too hard dear reader because that's just what I've done. All of the evidence and experiences I relate here I have also related in the past to the CIA and even the FBI. God bless the USA.
So, that's why I emailed them. Just to let them know that I had finally come and that everything was in fact and, not in fiction, indeed, both real and very true.
It would probably go something like this,
'Um, sir. We have reason to believe that the Lord Our God, the second coming has been emailing us his thoughts and opinions on His Second Coming' Can you imagine? Don't laugh too hard dear reader because that's just what I've done. All of the evidence and experiences I relate here I have also related in the past to the CIA and even the FBI. God bless the USA.
So, that's why I emailed them. Just to let them know that I had finally come and that everything was in fact and, not in fiction, indeed, both real and very true.
The Police Round Up the Homeless
I was in Vancouver BC walking around the corner by the drop in center on Seymour and Helmcken street when I ran headlong into a squadron of Vancouver Police Department officers in full riot gear marching in formation while rounding up the homeless people that where in the area and having them line up facing against the brick wall of the drop in center. Now, for some reason I completely freaked out. Not on the spot. On the spot I just kept walking down the street and they let me go by. But, in my mind I had serious flashbacks of Nazi Germany and the police there doing the same thing to the Jews and homeless vagrants, lining them up against a wall and shooting them. Which is strange because obviously I am too young to have ever experienced that crime of genocide in person. But, my father was still old enough to just remember enough of WWII Berlin in Germany to have told me the stories. So, this is what must have triggered in my mind. But, it was so real and so life like as I could hear the police shouting in German and the sobbing and wailing of their victims as they lined them up against that wall.
For some reason I knew I had to stop this police action.
For some reason I knew I had to stop this police action.
I have a new address
I just got back from securing a place for me to live in Chinatown. It's not much; just a room with a nice bed, a fridge and a desk. The restroom and kitchen is down the hall. But, it's quiet which is what I need to concentrate on this book.Plus, it has cable vision and internet included which is a major bonus to me because those bills can get quite high if I have to pay for them on my own. I have the key in my pocket and can move my stuff from this hotel to the new place anytime. I feel great!
You know last night I exercised one of my unique abilities as the angel of god, I prayed to heaven and spoke to Jesus, who also is myself consequently, but still up in heaven high above, and spoke to him about my feelings of insecurity about not having a place to be after this Thursday. And, my general feelings of anxiety. But, he agreed to lead me as the spirit in the flesh to a safe haven today. And, that has happened. As well my feelings of dread and anxiety which I get from the Ritalin sometimes has gone away. In fact the feelings went away immediately as we talked last night. With the end of the apostasy and the beginning of His, Jesus' reign now about to commence any day soon now I suggest to more people to keep praying to God. Now, finally after all this time the people will begin to see the immediate results of their prayers to heaven. Even me the spirit in the flesh has the opportunity to physically see and feel the effects of my prayers answered daily.
It's such an exciting time. And, again through quiet prayer I am so glad that Jesus took away my pain and lead me to a safe haven to complete my work. Prayer, I suggest you use it. Thank you JC. Amen.
You know last night I exercised one of my unique abilities as the angel of god, I prayed to heaven and spoke to Jesus, who also is myself consequently, but still up in heaven high above, and spoke to him about my feelings of insecurity about not having a place to be after this Thursday. And, my general feelings of anxiety. But, he agreed to lead me as the spirit in the flesh to a safe haven today. And, that has happened. As well my feelings of dread and anxiety which I get from the Ritalin sometimes has gone away. In fact the feelings went away immediately as we talked last night. With the end of the apostasy and the beginning of His, Jesus' reign now about to commence any day soon now I suggest to more people to keep praying to God. Now, finally after all this time the people will begin to see the immediate results of their prayers to heaven. Even me the spirit in the flesh has the opportunity to physically see and feel the effects of my prayers answered daily.
It's such an exciting time. And, again through quiet prayer I am so glad that Jesus took away my pain and lead me to a safe haven to complete my work. Prayer, I suggest you use it. Thank you JC. Amen.
The Importance of Labels
And, their inaccuracies. I am so torn between the country I love and my inability to be able to make it there financially considering the large fine I have for jaywalking and the considerable monies and time I owe for the possession of narcotics charge I accrued while there that I was tossing and turning all night knowing that in all likelihood I will not be going back to the United States to pay my fine and complete my Deferred Entry Judgment Drug Counseling Class to avoid a criminal record because in order to that I would have to literally live on the streets.
So, there I was just feeling horrible and guilty over this turn of events in my life when an angel said to me, 'But, you are a counter culture writer. And, this conflict is an important part of your life's work'. That in the end settled it for me. I can not go back to the United States until I have a book deal in hand and a lawyer to represent me in court at that time to deal with these problems.
But, I have never considered myself to be a counter culture anything. If at all I have always been upset over having to become a part of the different sub-cultures I have been around. I have always felt out of place. And, being diagnosed with the symptoms of narcolepsy and knowing the devastating effects they have had on my life I know now why I have always felt awkward being around these kinds of counter-culture elements. I am genuinely not a counter culture person. And, I have always sought to become more mainstream. I have always been fighting against the current of my disability and it's devastating social consequences for my life.
So, for me to be considered a part of a counter-culture sub-movement of any kind it will always be as a part of a group trying to get back towards the norms of society despite the societal odds imposed against them by whatever conditions they might have. I am not even aware that such a group exists. And, I have no intention of becoming the leader, by writing this book or any other means, of any counter culture movement of any kind that deviates from an albeit imperfect, yet workable social order. That is the whole purpose of my being God. To just have you sit tight and wait till I/we fix it. In the meantime don't go nuts here. Things take time. But, we are moving right along. JC and the Big Man are upstairs and I am here on the ground as His witness and that is exactly where we are supposed to be right now. I've never considered that to be counter culture.
But, maybe I am wrong. Only the art and culture critics of time will be able to answer that for you. But, you now have my own personal thoughts regarding it.
So, there I was just feeling horrible and guilty over this turn of events in my life when an angel said to me, 'But, you are a counter culture writer. And, this conflict is an important part of your life's work'. That in the end settled it for me. I can not go back to the United States until I have a book deal in hand and a lawyer to represent me in court at that time to deal with these problems.
But, I have never considered myself to be a counter culture anything. If at all I have always been upset over having to become a part of the different sub-cultures I have been around. I have always felt out of place. And, being diagnosed with the symptoms of narcolepsy and knowing the devastating effects they have had on my life I know now why I have always felt awkward being around these kinds of counter-culture elements. I am genuinely not a counter culture person. And, I have always sought to become more mainstream. I have always been fighting against the current of my disability and it's devastating social consequences for my life.
So, for me to be considered a part of a counter-culture sub-movement of any kind it will always be as a part of a group trying to get back towards the norms of society despite the societal odds imposed against them by whatever conditions they might have. I am not even aware that such a group exists. And, I have no intention of becoming the leader, by writing this book or any other means, of any counter culture movement of any kind that deviates from an albeit imperfect, yet workable social order. That is the whole purpose of my being God. To just have you sit tight and wait till I/we fix it. In the meantime don't go nuts here. Things take time. But, we are moving right along. JC and the Big Man are upstairs and I am here on the ground as His witness and that is exactly where we are supposed to be right now. I've never considered that to be counter culture.
But, maybe I am wrong. Only the art and culture critics of time will be able to answer that for you. But, you now have my own personal thoughts regarding it.
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