First Part to the Original Draft of my Upcoming Book: Marfa, Tx

-In a town where no one knows you, you can be anyone you want to be.

Screenplay:

Walking the streets,find shirt, Laura left it for me, blueprint replacement,

 find mud, carry bottle around

Elne decides to uncurl from the couch and carry himself and Laura through the streets.

Gently weighted eyelids moved over my eyeballs to look at the day. The sun wasn’t out yet, but the blue was a bit brighter from what the windows could show me. ‘Mmmm more sleep’. My lids were too hard to lift, and they sauntered back down into place.

‘No no. You want to see the sunset, remember?’ ‘Oh yeah’. Somehow the Marfian energy of sunlight spirits took my body over and I no longer desired to stay in the hammock. The comfort of the deep pillowy blankets cradling me in the hammock, and my blankie of emotional comfort, were suddenly just objects and no longer created the only place in the world that was comfortable. ‘You sure?’ ‘It’s really fucking comfy here.’ The thoughts come as I was already at the point of only my ass being in the hammock while the rest of me searched the room for the warmest clothes to hold a 110 pound lady through 30 degree Texas weather. 

‘The clothes from yesterday totally work.’ I thought.

‘The leggings work at least, but a new shirt is wanted’. I look through Elne’s pile and feel the pain of him easily, but today he’s getting past it so I rejected the black Zelda shirt and went for the tan and black shirt that was definitely more vulnerably outspoken. I slid the barn door through its tredges (I don’t know the actual word for what it slides across, but that word makes enough sense) and immediately slid them right back through the tredges. ‘Cold!’ ‘We got this. Just get gloves and hmmm…*also grabs fairy elf hat*’.  *slides door through tredges again and heads out to find the best sunrise spot*

The sun is still barely fondling the creases of the earth and I realize I’d rushed for no reason. ‘…..’

‘Now I can get past these telephone wires in the way, and just get to see the sun’. My desperation for such a site pushes my bloated being forwards.

I follow the road up a ways, thinking through Shista and how she’s going to be a runner. ‘I’m so not a runner’. *accesses past self* ‘Oh wait I totally was.’ *brings back up memory of self running around the pasture, not the full memory but a quip of it since I’ve seen it enough times for the effect to puncture through with just a moment of it*. My body slugs out with the memory, becoming more aware of how hard it is to move.

‘I’m sorry body’ I stroke the words with my insides. ‘Pshhh’, *analysis of pity party sparks up,* ‘It was only a day’. I smile and shake my head at myself, joshing with all the layers of analysis and thought colliding into my final thoughts as they adapt and “see”. ‘Haha, I’m glad it didn’t go on longer. Can you imagine if I’d even done it two days?’ *pauses with mind musings of The Box of Chocolates Experiment* ‘No. I think the self torture is over for now.’ *reflects over the past while crunching through the dead life of Marfa in January.* *Stares into the ground as eyes soak in and analyze each twist of earth and feels alive amongst the dead* ‘It’s like it isn’t dead at all. It’s just waiting.’

I continue walking and see a few dirt mounds. My body groans, but Shista wouldn’t and I actually used to love dirt mound climbing. I climb the mound, feeling like I’m lugging 110 pounds of self up it, and it’s harder than I remember. Shista will have to do this every day so I can get it. Some love of the climb comes back and I meander down the tiny hill and there are seven other tiny ones right in front of me. *pause* ‘Fine’. I do them all with a bit of grudginess that all finds its way into the air as I embrace it. I did love climbing and running down hills. I even take on second hill with a run as it slopes down before sloping up into the third, *almost trips and falls*, ‘nope’. Nope. I’m good.’

I cut out the left hemisphere for a while through thinking of my own breathing until I can just be in silence.  I’m mastering it Yoda style, going from never to hours to murky amounts of time until the point of now where it can happen in a minute. I used to do it when on energy drinks and I wouldn’t shut up but needed me to shut up. I’d make loud breathing noises out loud and then make them  in my head and then imagine them until I was ‘listening’/thinking to the sound of my breath. I still do that but now the breath can stop without thoughts pushing in like a violent baby attack of need. I can just exist. Exist without thought.

I reached a fence and needed to get over to get closer to the hill. I knew the sunrise would be the most majestic on top of it. ‘Barbwire. I know you well.’ Childhood flashbacks put my body into them and we put one foot on the nonbarbed bottom of the fence and put my gloved hands between the pricks at the top. The fence swayed and I got scared but memories were comfort since I’d beasted many a fence at home. The fear may have been from the blood and scraped hands of learning….. You just have to get a full swing in though and you’ll be over without your crotch getting punctured.

‘Why would anyone want to run? Walking is so much better. Shista is going to be easy since I don’t understand her at all’. I hold off on running and just walk…you know…for character development.

‘Liquid Fantasies’. The name still feels sour. It hasn’t “felt right” for months and it’s been bothering me. What do I even want it to be? Maybe Liquid…Lies or Fantasy Minds’…While rethinking through the title I realize it isn’t the issue. There’s pain at the idea of the books at all. I think of the fantasy of the fairies and the worlds I’ll be putting into this. Maybe the name feels wrong because I don’t know what the book will be yet. *pauses* I won’t know until they’re finished though. I have to create the book before knowing what it should be and…

 What if…what if I put all of these fantasy worlds into these books and they’re too twisted and wrong to where the fantasy is wasted on them?*feel pain and anger at such a thought. I could never allow that of my worlds!’ *I pause* *deep pain arises and begins to cleanse itself in my heart feels*‘Love. You will always have stuff to write about.’  ‘I mean come on. You’re only 24 and look how much you’ve written’ *smiles* ‘Yeah. I guess you’re write’, says the voice over of the cleansed pain.

I think of the stress at integrating what is the writing of Liquid Fantasies and which parts are Liquid Fantasies and realize this can all go into Marfa, Tx. The writing of it, the land itself, the story of this place.

Liquid Fantasies…it feels real again.

I talk aloud to myself with the different language. Oonk not eet rushtelenfelt. Oh I forgot to tell you of the horse. I met one while on that initial road and it neighed then backed away when I actually got to it. I put my hand out for it, like I did to the dog that still barks despite me having won the alpha contest like five times now, but the horse backed away and immediately came back and let me pet it twice. We bonded a bit more before I left it. Horses are so much better than dogs. They are bonded to us.

‘One of the characters should only talk aloud. Flyra..no, Shista no, Sandra no..Raistlen/Rosslen. Yes. He’ll be on coffee and business minded so he’ll have complex out loud musings but no internalization. He can see and talk about everyone else and get everything but for himself because he never internalizes.  He thus doesn’t listen, but does project immediate thoughts after pretending to soak in their words while really just letting them rebound off as he holds his thoughts and ‘waits for his turn to speak’. Fuck..why would Sandra fall for him? Why would I fall for him (she’s essentially me)…I did fall for Michael and he has a  business mind. I think there was another business mind in my male reservoir but the names not striking a memory. Brennan…oh…ow…he holds a deeper pain so doesn’t come to autothought  as easily since I rebound from his pain and thus memories of him.

 They could be similar. Michael and Raistlin. Besides, she doesn’t really fall for him anyways, currently she hates him some.’

‘The sun is taking forever to come up. If it were a lover it would just be like come on, come on, get up there, but it would take too long and you’d give up.’ I think of one of the characters being a comedian again. Flyra is going to be a children’s comedian…this won’t work.

*Random thoughts trigger idea of Netlix* ‘In all this fear of having nothing to do or getting bored, when going to Netflix it’s been the least rewarding. Actually…it’s been the most boring. Well actually Once Upon a Time is amazeballs bursting out skittles cum, but I didn’t get anything from it. The characters stick for a bit and I’ll feel like Elsa or the evil queen, which is what I want…too be able to feel like a different person…but it leaves this goo feeling and sticks too much. It works too well. Drawing and walking give me what I think Netflix will and never does’.

I sing some, externalizing the internal, and the sun finally starts to *7 % battery life! *goes to plug in charger before typing this** show itself. It’s everything I wanted. There’s a tiny house in the distance at the top of a hill and all around it is just a vast and long landscape that’s forming a line against the sun rays as they lay across it. The shadows still stretch all the way across my view and up to that line and it starts to pool out and bring light into every dead piece of grass and shimmer the ice into sparkling rays that coat little green plants in bits of built up snowflakes. I sing the ancient tunes in my soul as though a ritual is pouring out as my people greet the sun and thank it for coming. The notes are long and verberate. “Eeknuuu eeettt feee a ruuushhen”, *whimisically and yet with purpose she walks about the land as the sun reaches out into Marfa before meeting itself and Ainsley in the center, between the hill’s shadow and the town* I turn the song to English “Greetings sun, stretch across our land today. Eeenuuyet, fellen rusheyen. Welcome to our home today. Thank you for finding us. Spread your life to all our plants and nourish all our souls this day. Welcome sun.”

‘Shista will do this every day…no…wait. Shista runs…Sandra..I would do this. Every day. *smiles* Sandra it is.’

*takes a break from writing and goes to get a juice from Squeeze Marfa after checking their site and deciding to change up the immune booster to have spinach and kiwi instead of carrot and apple. Apples are too sweet and carrots too root.*

In passing the streets leading to the Courthouse across from Freeze I see a run down truck with a Mexican and a farmer inside talking to another truck pulled into a gas station. They’ve been here a long time. In Marfa that is. I reassess the town and see more of that mindset and realize that there are a bunch of hippie artists coming into this long established West Texas town. Apparently when the world has nowhere to escape to you escape to West Texas.

I get to squeeze and they’re out of the ginger so we do extra spinach and…oh wait they were out of parsley not ginger. So I got double spinach, ginger, kiwi, parsley and ….something…oh and mint since they were out of parsley. Fuck. Okay so no parsley but there was mint and other green stuff. *goes to website to found out since my mind won’t let the desire to connect to the memory go.*

*goes*

*sees Immune Power and ginger parsley, garlic !! Garlic. *my mind goes with that duh, but happy sound*

So the lady writing my order goes to make it and I happily go off to a little table to wait for the Immune Booster juice with my little twist. On the way there’s this extra rectangle hole in the room that I venture into. There’s a microwave and another order kiosk thing…cash register…and some books. It sparks as unprofessional but that word memory quickly adapts at realizing this is also a part of the town. They left it here just because they did and are obviously not lazy or stupid/ (the auto triggers that created the word ‘unprofessional’ to connect in my head (left brain translation of right hemisphere feeling at seeing the rectangle hole filled with run down/lazily placed stuff)). I then saw a paper that said “Serving Marfa for ten years.” Wow…they didn’t come here for the hippy artists, they’d been here for years and were part of the town. Appreciation and slight confusion felt themselves into me as my thoughts merged the artists into the sense of the West Texas town. Despite this place now being artisticly acted out into a business that was drawn out of a 21st century art mind as a 3D painting it was also a place that was business adapted and may have risen up from Southern roots. Squeeze was a rustic mom and pop business hole that had lasted through this town’s decades…well one decade at least. It went from catering ranchers and townsfolk into adapting through the years and incorporating their style to fit 21st century artists that think dirt needs to be Instagramed and all their food needs to be stored to show off later, damn the actual food aspect to eating. That’s a biased remark due to what happens next though.

I sit in a two seated table’s chair that faces the front so I can see when the juice is ready. I location social planned it to where I was acceptable and not a loner. I don’t fear that idea much anymore, but my primal side didn’t want people to assess me as alone and vulnerable to their animal attacks. What? Humans are scary and a top competitor on the food chain.

The people next to me are talking and my first peripheral focus of them shows a glance of a gorgeous woman with black hair and a streak that slides across it and down the side of her face. She’s talking about her trip and I don’t hear much response. ‘Pshh. People not listening, how rude but how usual’, I think. I go back to just sitting but notice her voice isn’t really leaving the sound waves. I focus in on it again  and realize she’s complaining about something. I actually turn my head and listen with all of my focus this time and see she is not as gorgeous but still pretty and she seems to be with an older friend. The friend is offering sympathy and feedback. 

I watch as the lady behind the counter brings the group their food. It looks gorgeous and has beets and leaves and pecans all placed beautifully on it. I stare at the salads and tune into them and the group as I watch this loving exchange of food from the maker to the table. She walks away and I feel shocked. They didn’t say a word to her. The girl just kept yammering on about her life and didn’t even pause to realize she was being given food. Food was just another thing to her. I then looked her all over and analyzed her upper class jacket. She was treating the food like just another thing that gets handed to her. I look at the food again and see her putting her napkin in her lap and she starts eating. She still hasn’t paused her sentences about herself. She eats the food without noticing it, taking it in because it was put in front of her and it is her. There’s nothing more to it but that it is feeding her and giving her what she wants just like everything else in her life. She didn’t do anything for it so she has no apprecation for it. I look at her phone and see it’s a gold iPhone. The new one.

I then realize this woman is actually taking over the conversation and has just been talking about all of her problems without actually asking about anyone else’s lives. I listen more and hear her talk about her vacation and the companies needing to do ]something about her credit card because they fucked something up. All the tense she uses is present and all of her words are just about her or her perspective. She asks questions only in confirmation. “I just think they should have gotten back to me sooner. Don’t you?”  

‘I could totally just listen to people all day and then write about it online as I point out what their minds were doing in the conversation and how the argument was formed.’ *my mind pauses and muses over the thought with self reassessment and how I could also help them by actually talking to them about it in person*  *mind sends alert signal and reassesses with fear and personality triggers of ‘that’s something I wouldn’t do, but I reassess again and realize that’s an old personality quirk. My mind adapts with the adaptations since that memory and I realize I could do that now. It would even be fun. Oh! I could do that while here at the coffee shop. Afterwards I would say it’s for my blog and ask if I could put the recording of the conversation online. It will be Sandra’s blog! I’ll call it listening therapy…no..Therapy ears..no. What’s it called when you listen in? Eavesdropping! I’ll call it Eavesdropping …no. Eavesdrop Therapy.’

*Before remembering back to everything else I think of food and realize it’s time for Brussel’s sprouts cast iron heated in butter* The thought was there since before I started writing this, even before Squeeze venturing actually. Oh no wait I thought of it on the walk there and back again. Both times. The thought has waited long enough.

Of course you fear yourself, you hold all of your fear

You eat the leaves while the rest cooks

Brussels and butter with Fennel

Sadness at sacred shattering! That’s what reality shatters are!

When we realize that we held emotion to, sacredness to, right sided emotion too, was no longer true. So it shatters all the blueprints!!

Santa. Your parents not being your parents. You’re adopted. 

When people ‘insult’ something that they ‘don’t understand’ it’s because they don’t have that sacredness to it!

I was just touching up the bottled love painting when I was smoothing the maroon paint into the heart’s corner and I ‘felt’ it. That feeling I’d been getting each night before to where the art was speaking to me and I was ‘channeling’. Well wait a tick. I’m high. What if it’s the feeling of this paint? What if that channel feeling was just how good this paint feels?’ It hurt to realize but then I analyzed that pain and realized it was from thinking that all the channeling had been a lie and it wasn’t from some greater anything. I was attached to a memory. That ‘feeling’ of it triggered into all of the past moments I’d felt channeling and thought it was this incredible feeling leeking down from the gods into me…and then got freaked out and hated that something was controlling me and it didn’t matter if I became famous because that was just showing that it was all a plan, that I could feel it was a plan, and thus it was all a game. But then, why would it allow me to think that? To make it feel more like a game. Thus I would then believe it was because it gave me the ability to think that way. Then I would get suicidal. Just kept trying to adapt but then there were energy drinks in the way.

So right then, that moment about five minutes ago where I stroked the paint across the sheet, brought back up alllll of that emotion and that pain, but it brought it into who I am now. I have personally adapted past a lot of that pain by accessing it and reanalyzing it. I’ve done that adaptation so much that I’m able to reach more and more into what didn’t adapt, but then adapt to it even faster and it surges right back up my spinal cord and through my brain to reach full adaptation across that corpus callosum.

Oh and when I was cast ironing those Brussels I calmed and stared at the turkey and that excitement at eating it. That pause let me grasp the excitement and find where it was. It was attached to a memory. My mind ran from it and I almost couldn’t remember, but I caught up to the connection after glitching over some fear axons (or whatever mechanism is there that keeps us from memory…maybe some amygdale juice release in the form of dopamine (don’t know actual hormones so I default to dopamine ;O ) . It was fear from when I was poor with Woulfe and we were eating Ramen with a payday splurge of some celery and carrots. All that time, of being broke enough to where choosing between food and rent created a lot of stored fears on the primalest of levels, was catching up to my mind now as I called those memories back. That ‘excitement’ of finally eating today held all of those memories.

I felt this overwhelming sadness and took a bite of turkey. It no longer tasted good and I realized it was because all that excitement was gone. I had felt into it so it wasn’t there anymore. ‘Will food ever taste good again’, went the unrationalized response of my brain. I tried a Brussels with butter and it tasted just as dull if not bad. The cold of it was nice but the taste made me want to spit it out. I chewed on though, too sad at it losing its flavor. ‘If I keep eating the flavor might come back’. I thought back to how everything tasted dull and wondered if it was because of this sad feeling and cleansing out all of this excitement or if it was just that food would taste bad forever and I was permadoomed to never loving food again. I then became aware of this ‘sad’ feeling in me. Oh. I was sad because I’d just cleansed out all of this pain. I let that feeling of sad in and just soothed myself into the right hemisphere, letting it all take over as I relaxed into the pain and pushed it out of me. ‘Mmmm’ *eyes and right body make soothed sounds of  the feeling as that pain swells in and out, harsh and biting with the pain of leftover’s past as it creeps into my deepest pain centers and brings itself out while I adapt it out of me*.

So that sacredness I felt at painting lead back to all of those memories and blueprints and it shattered them. I felt the pain of that shatter against that right side emotion because of the fact that all of the attachement literally changed.

The initial feeling that those blueprints were created on allowed them to be connections.

Stimuli in right side = formed blueprint in the left

1st right side feeling = 1st left blueprint.

1st right side feeling later in life = 2nd left blueprint.

1st right side feeling even later in life =3rd blueprint forming etc.

So when you take that feeling back into yourself and realize that all of those blueprints were ‘wrong’ you shatter them against this new emotion. You take them into the present and all of those emotions change to where

1st feeling= connect to all blueprints

Have ‘realization’ (Like I had in thinking that all of the channeling was actually just a tactile feeling and not sacred or anything ‘more’ (need to figure out what ‘more’ even is)

New feeling forms while still attached/connected to all of those blueprints. Then all of your connections/blueprints rebound against the new feeling (possibly to where they all readapt?!) and your reality / all your blueprints shatter/ disconnect from the old blueprint as they form against this new feeling

New feeling = 1st -3rd blueprint etc

1st -3rd blueprints etc = new feeling

The blueprints then adapt out of you or they connect and stick to the old feeling

Totally calling this the Blueprint Reality Shatter Theory. Fuck that felt so ‘real’. That feeling you get at a soul truth. Like the one where you’re in love and you actually know it rather than fake it. That feeling you get when all your adaptations to a stimuli course up and down you and you feel it adapt everywhere without any stopping or lie in the way. You reach this fucking balance of a ‘truth’. That feeling I had before reality shattered and formed that adaptation that belief itself is a lie. To where belief turned to pain. I remember when the idea of God coursed through all up and down and I was singing into the sounds of everyone around me and me being captured by this once force and this one being that loved us all. We all felt loved and it loved us. That feeling that Santa was going to come down the …did they shatter love?

That Santa would..come down the chimney and bring us everything we wanted. He brought us hope. He loved us.

Then it was all a lie. They shattered belief.

Oh and on the whole channeling due to paint thing.

Sandra one liner ender just sparked up, excuse me while I type it out: Eh hem: Sandra isn’t going for a sunrise walk every morning anymore.

You’ll get that later.

The channeling feeling also happens when I use pen, or write, or have nothing but the stimuli of me coming out in a formed desire. I even don’t get the feeling when I use pen, or pencil, or write or type. The ‘feeling’ is real…but in defending it I feel it again. That deep inner sad pain. That fear of analyzing it…that fear of it not being real, meaning that I still cling to some emotions there, some memories, some blocked up amygdale pain. I want to access it and adapt to that pain but right now my bottom parts of my lips are sagging too much and the pain is a bit too deep so I’ll have to go grab a balloon. I’ll take it out of my recent sketch..woah..that excitement idea made my peripheral vision go two dimensional…I’m not even fucking with you. I got scared since that ‘woah’ and have been eye staring you down like a cat that just got spotted…staring at the computer screen that is. Everything returned to four dimensional…oh maybe it all turned 3 dimensional…it flattened out. My mind went to where it knew the drawing is for a moment while in the excitement…which is diagonal to the couch, forward and to my left, all of that space went two dimensional for a second as my mind turned that way but my head stayed here..or my head may have moved a bit. My memory is biasing on it so I don’t want to recall it anymore. I want it to be ‘true’ based on the easier/impulse ideas so that I’m not insane, but I’d rather not fuck it up so that it can actually be used. Scientist over a writer apparently…ha. No. Not true/I don’t want it to be…hmmm..what pain is there? About a billion memories of a writer mattering the most to me popped up right then. I know what it is. But shhh. Need to rebound from it for now.

Oh. Rebounding Memories: Pain Theory

No….Memory Pain: The Rebound Theory

Mind Rebounds at Pain Memories Theory…Mind Rebounds at Memory Pain *anger as words come in and out but none seem ‘right;*

Oh fuck I felt so much anger when I was walking from that yoga studio. Oh yeah so I was on the way back from squeeze and feeling happy as ideas formed over the future for Eavesdrop Therapy when I passed a yoga studio. I was looking at the sign that had days of the week and what they did each day. One was a massage and the other was meditation. Oh! I love meditation. I wonder how much it costs. I go over to the door and push the thumb handle down but it doesn’t open. A tiny plaque on the door says they might be out and to call 542-546-0987 if I need to schedule an appointment. That’s not the real number but putting (random stream of numbers) would have taken you out of the moment. Of course..this may have done that anyways.

I look inside and its dark but I try the thumb handle again anyways. They’re closed. Sigh. Marfa. I walk back towards my temporary home again and see the sign and look to see when meditation is again while my mind memorizes the website at the bottom of the plaque. Oh yeah it did have a website. Marfawell.com. It said to go there to check for availability, thought I was forgetting something from the memory. I also see yoga on the sign and think ‘That will be perfect for Sandra. It’s probably only aro *feels a bit of pain but it’s small so the thought carries on* nd ten dollars and that would work out perfectly. Sandra will lo *pain comes up again* I LOVE YOGA TOO ve it…’ The thought angrily yelled into my brain while the Sandra thought finished itself. I marched faster towards home as another part of me stood agape and then started to run for me and ask what was wrong. I catch up to myself and assess the pain while all of me slows down and comes together.

Maybe I was merging old connections to new me..(lends to both Pain Memory…Rebound..theory thing as well as Blueprint Reality Shatter Theory. This would be more broad though…or more sudden actually. My macro micro flaw ;). It didn’t shatter a ton of connections but it..well it may have. It brought up all of the pain that I stored related to my personalities. I felt the pain of being someone else/Elne and the sense of reality and what it even is. I saw and felt that pain when I caught up to myself. The first memory was of Elne and me in this room, the room I’m typing in now. I then felt deeper and heard my mom for a moment. I walked faster. Then I grabbed that pain with the motherfucking force of awareness and I hugged myself to the deepest pit of my own pain. I heard the screams of a child as I heard myself scream in my head and thrash about. I saw myself thrashing back and forth as a projected image in my mind. The head violently thrashed back and forth as I clung to it from behind and hugged deep, but I was a small version of me while the head was a giant hologram of past me. I saw Marfa in front of me again and felt the pain leave but I held tighter, wanting to find all of it. ‘It’s okay. I’ve got this” *plunges back in as the pain turns into a physical feeling and I no longer see memories or blueprints but instead just feel the pain in my heart and a bit of the area around it. I mostly feel it in my right side. I hear a few screams but they grow distant and I breathe deeper into where those screams are held as I rebound away from their blueprint and into their stored moment.

I then realize that all the pain we feel. That pain that we run from. It’s in us.

 Of course we fear ourselves. Ourselves hold our deepest pain. We’ve stored our deepest fears.

It was phrased a bit better though.

Of course we fear ourselves was definitely the first part.

We’ve stored our deepest pains.

We are the holders of our deepest stored pain.

Sigh.

We’ve stored our deepest pains!! *reads back up* oh…no that’s just a recent memory. Le sigh fuck. Thought it was the ‘real’ one.

Yeahhhh it’s gone.

You’ve been given the best creature’s body on earth to cleanse out all of that pain though. We have the strongest ability to adapt. Trust me. I’ve felt into such deep dwellings of pain that I’ve wanted to die oh so fucking many times. I wasn’t able to adapt to that pain and I could feel that. That feeling of not being able to adapt makes us want to kill ourselves because of the fact that it knows it isn’t adapting. Our bodies don’t want no motherfucking nonadapters on the food chain. It is aware of itself and then makes you aware of it by using all that English in your brain. Your right side receives stimuli. Oh fuck. It isn’t adapting because there’s some shit in the way or the brain has swollen or there’s toxins..sigh…if you even believe that…I hate that I can’t just say that because your brain is going to stop there. Your brain will stop ‘believing’ me because they soiled that thought. The idea of health and toxins and those fucking shots…with the baby that everyone goes on about will give you cancer but don’t but then people got pissed and no one believes in hippies anymore because they are just fallacy headed and only think we’re hurting the world because a company told them they could save a million fish for a penny and those fish would make rainbows. Vaccines!!

Okay so…look I feel a lot of pain when I think of autism and parkinson’s and schizophrenia and alzheimers because those things are fucking real and yet we pretend they aren’t. Those things exist inside people and we used to be able to care and feel it in our right. Well the world and companies have fucked the blueprint. They took that feeling of truth and care and made it into movies. They made it into jokes. They made it into commercials.

We aren’t fat because of McDonald’s we’re fat because we can’t control ourselves.

Guess who took your bloody fucking control and wiped it all over their asses before wiping them with money?

Fucking corruption and fucking companies. My eyes feel more red with the feeling of those thoughts and red in my keyboard became completely immersive to where it felt like the lights were on and searing into me. When I lose that feeling it looks like they’re off again. Ha. Turns out they were on. Just on the low setting. Emotions making colors more vivid while the screen blurs. Oh right side 😉

The thing is that it isn’t one humans fault all this happened just like it wasn’t really Hitler’s ‘fault’. If it were just Hitler and him alone he could not have created that war. Hitler and his people that followed them were needed. Hitler may have called the sheep into action, but he was just following his wolf instincts. He was in pain because his father seriously didn’t love him and no one loved his art either. He took that pain and decided to fight but honestly did he even know who he was really fighting? Did anyone know? First he tried to project his pain onto the Jews for some reason I don’t know. They probably got stored away in some painful memory of his. Then his amygdale held that pain and told him to rebound from all the Jews, that they were the pain. Well OCD is a bitch and he compulsed from that motherfucker like a Nazi onto Jews. He tried to kill all of them. He was in denial of his pain so when he felt that pain he ran away. Well when he saw that pain (the Jews) he felt fear. He wanted to get rid of that fear so he literally tried to get rid of it. In those people he felt all that pain of no one loving him or his art, and whatever that stored memory pain of Jews was.

Apparently the rest of Germany also had shitty parents that didn’t love their art.

So they got an army and killed their parents/the projected pain of their parents or whatever other memory made them feel small and then angry. (Oh yeah!. I really need to tell you about me going to jail today)

That’s how it got so muddled for what they were going for. Some saw gingers as their pain, some saw gypsies, some saw witches I’m sure. Eventually all they had left was blue eyed perfect people, and maybe those just so happened to not have pain attached to them, or they ran out of options. Or all of it was actually some primal sense to weed out the human race and it went for the most adapted looking humans so far and those are the ones with the features of blue eyes and whatever else Hitler decided was the perfect race. I don’t fucking know. Go ask (whatever country is the reason Germany was so poor/broke/hopeless when Hitler came to power/when the country needed to feel a sense of power after getting shamed and butraped right before Hitler turned wolf).

The point being that we try and blame companies or one person for all that has happened to America, but we can’t just trace it back to one person, well, we can but all the other people on the line get in the way. America was created by the corruption of people coming to a place they don’t understand and then killing of the people that did understand it. We came over here because we fucking wanted power probably, we were escaping Europe because we wanted a more strict place to call home. We were founded on people that wanted power and when other animals stood in the way they shoved them off. We were founded on people that wanted to fuck with nature in order to make it play out with what they wanted. They didn’t understand the land and so instead of learning to love and work with it they made it adapt to what they wanted. They took America and molded it into their greed. Money and corruption of course took over and we destroyed anything in our paths. We feared the land and the other beasts that could kill us, so with numbers we took them on and killed them. Or, we just wanted resources for our species and killed off the other animals in the way. We needed the resources, and, in fact, we could eat those that stood in our way. We then massbred the animals that were weakest and that we could control.

Sigh…I don’t want to go on right now, it hurts too much and I’m already pretty raw from the rest of today.

Basically we can’t keep trying to blame one thing for all of America. America is a manifestation of primal feelings that took over. It is just an idea and that idea manifests into humans that keep taking and taking and taking as we get massfed by the world. The problem is that while the other species are throwing food and their parts of the world at us, we’re getting stuffed and their getting weak and empty. We have too many resources and they have too little, but can you stop feeding us and can we stop getting fatter?

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SI-Ya Ray

Greetings beautiful people. I bliss out over crafting new flavors, interviewing test makers and restaurant owners and discovering the brain.

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