Sunday, November 09, 2008

The Fall Of New York-Original Manuscript

I Remember New York

I remember New York. I remember the summer of 1977. I remember the Blackout. I remember the Son of Sam. I remember Add-A-Rides. I remember how people would deposit an extra ‘quater’ in the fare box on the bus and asked the driver: “Can I getta Adda Ride?”.

I remember the IRT, BMT, IND. I remember the AA,CC, LL, QB, GG, RR and SS trains. I remember the JFK Express. I remember the tune “Take The Train To The Plane.” I remember the trestle of the Third Avenue El. I remember the Jamaica Avenue El. I remember what an El is. I remember the graffiti. I remember the rolling museums of modern art called the Number 4 train AKA The Muggers Express. I remember the cut out Y tokens. I remember the ‘cowboy motormen’ on the IRT who would crank the express trains up to 50MPH. I remember Conrail. I remember when Conrail became Metro-North. I remember the two week transit strike of 1980 which the workers won.
I remember the M26 cross-town bus on 23rd Street. I remember how it ran between FDR Drive and 12th Avenue. I remember M5 Riverside Drive up the river up the park. M5 Riverside Drive down the river down the park. I remember M10 dear old friend. I remember green as well as blue Flexible buses. I remember the Grumman bus fiasco. I remember how all 2500 buses of the Grumman fleet were defective which lead to a shortage of buses. I remember how the Federal government lent New York dozens of Washington DC ‘Metrobuses’.
I remember Reggie, Craig Nettles, Bucky Dent, Willie Randolph and Mickey Rivers. I remember the ‘77-78 Yankee Billy Martin dynasty.
I remember when Governor Carey was re-elected. I remember Ed Koch. I remember he was the closeted gay and loudmouth resident of Greenwich Village immortalised by his never ending public question: “How Am I Doing?” I remember when Sydanham Hospital in West Harlem was closed by Koch.
I remember the Baby Grand on 125th Street in-between AC Powell and Frederick Douglass. I remember when the Apollo Theater was abandoned and closed. I remember seeing a white woman walk out of the subway tunnel along the tracks in the 125th Street station. I remember the brothers shouting and berating her to “Get the fuck off da tracks!” I remember how she screamed at the top of her lungs: “I wanna go to Coney Island Hospital!” I remember that behind her crawled the Coney Island bound D train. I remember seeing a metal head teenage couple from New Jersey perform oral sex on the A train in the middle of the day on a standing room only car. I remember how she sat down as he stood in front of her.
I remember when the last car on every subway train was for smoking. I remember dense clouds of tobacco and marijuana smoke during rush hour commutes. I remember riding in-between cars during rush hour. I remember the IRT trains so packed that the only space left was in-between cars. I remember how up to four people would stand two abreast on either side of the connecting cars. I remember the wind and the brisk odor of the tunnel as the train sped along. I remember when only 5% of the subway cars were Air Conditioned. I remember hot rush hour evenings when a booming voice would impel another: “To get your stinky motherfuckin’ armpits out of my fuckin’ face!”
I remember when 6 lines would run to Coney Island. I remember Steeple Chase Park. I remember the Steeple Chase Ride. I remember the Diving Bell. I remember Roackaway Playland, which was smaller, cheaper and further out than Coney Island.
I remember Horn and Hardat’s Automat on the corner of 42nd and 3rd. I remember Chock Full O’ Nuts restaurants. I remember Arthur Treacher’s. I remember Nedicks. I remember Department Stores. I remember Mays, Gimbels, Ohrbachs, Alexander’s, Korvettes. I remember Disc-O-Mat. I remember Woolworth’s and Woolco. I remember R&S Strauss. I remember independent discount stores.
I remember Irving Trust, Chemical Bank and Manufactures Hanover Trust.
I remember the Hudson Dayline, a boating service which operated between New York City and Poughkeepsie making stops at Bear Mountain and West Point.
I remember 11 Alive, Metromedia 5 and the 4:30 Movie on Channel 7. I remember when Live At Five debuted. I remember when 77 WABC played only Disco Music. I remember 92 KTU. I remember anti-racist public service announcements. I remember WAPP.
I remember wheat fields across the street from the World Trade Center. I remember Ronald Reagan’s ill-fated Westway project. I remember the intense and successful opposition to building a California Freeway on the West Side of Manhattan.
I remember Mount Morris Park where one could ascend creaky steps up the tower for an aerial promenade over the village of Harlem.
I remember when pot smoking was de-criminalised and public drinking tolerated.
I remember Times Square when it was the porn capital of North America. I remember the Midnight show at one of dozens of cinema’s in and around Times Square. I remember the raucous Black and Puerto Rican cigarette and pot smoking audience in attendance. I remember the wise cracks, witticisms and scathing humour heard during the film. I remember the four or so video game arcades where teens would play hooky from school to spend their allowance playing “the machines”. I remember the RKO Rad movie house on Fordham Road and the magnificent art deco Lowes Paradise movie house on the Grand Concourse up in the Boogie Down Bronx.
I remember the yellow Checker Cabs with their spacious leg room and two unfolding rump seats in the back. I remember yellow street signs and yellow pedestrian crosswalks. I remember when the walk signs flashed green. I remember Welcome Back Kotter with Barbarino, Washington, Horseshack, and Espstein.
I remember Michael Stewart. The young Black and gay graffiti artist who was hog tied and beaten to death by transit cops on the First Avenue Subway stop on the Canarsie line. I remember the killing of Michael Griffith by a white racist mob out in Howard Beach. I remember the slaying of Yusef Hawkins, the 16 year Black lad shot in the chest at point blank range by a mob of gun toting and bat wielding Italians, who fell into a rage due to the presence of a group of Black males entering the neighborhood after dark and falsely believing that the Blacks were in the neighborhood to fuck Italian women. I remember the Battle of the Brooklyn Bridge when 7000 people marched across the bridge to hold a political funeral for Yusef Hawkins. I remember when the police intercepted the procession at mid-span, smashed the coffin with their Billy clubs and the subsequent riot.
I remember the Thompkins Square Riot of 1988, when residents of the park defied Koch’s midnight curfew imposed upon the park. I remember Missing Foundation.
I remember the Columbus Coliseum. I remember when the Jacob Javits Convention Center opened. I remember people asking why money was used to build a useless convention center when affordable housing was becoming scarce. I remember when the streets were free of homeless. I remember the only people seen on the street were bums and junkies and not families and former professionals who got downsized.
I remember David Dinkins, the first Black mayor of New York. I remember when fireworks were legal. I remember how New York resembled a war zone every Independence Day. I remember 48 hours of non-stop explosions of cherry bombs, M-80’s and every other imaginable gunpowder explosions not coming from firearms.
I remember The Palladium, Limelight, The Tunnel, The Shelter, The Bank, and Danceteria. I remember Stigmata, Ward 6 and Communion. I remember the nights of NASA. I remember DJ Reece, the best industrial DJ outside of Chicago.
I remember CBGB’s Pizzeria. I remember The Ritz. I remember The New Ritz.
I remember Hands Across America. I remember the ’86 Mets. I remember Gary Carter, Doc Gooden, Keith Hernandez, Mookie Wilson, Darryl Strawberry. I remember Bill Buckner’s remarkable error off a routine grounder to first base.
I remember “Frestyle” music which was 80’s Latino dance music featuring the Cover Girls, Expose and the Latin Rascals.
I remember the Sheep’s Meadow in Central Park where one could take an advanced course in Psychedelics given by the same professors who taught Timothy Leary.
I remember the West Side Piers where gays, bisexuals and other freaks would cruise, have oral, anal and vaginal sex as well as smoke, drink a 40 and chill out on the Hudson River.
I remember the Williamsburgh Bridge. I remember climbing along the suspension cable up to the tower to watch the sunset over Manhattan.
I remember the Crown Heights Riots of ’91. I remember it triggered by a Hasidic van driver attempting a hit and run after striking a Black 5 year old child named Cato Gavin. I remember the accusations of anti-Semitism against David Dinkins. I remember hearing statements how Dinkins created a ‘pogrom’ against Jews in New York.
I remember the killing of Jose “Kiko” Garcia who was a petty marijuana dealer killed by a police officer. I remember the Dominican led riots afterwards up in Washington Heights. I remember how the Police led a public campaign against Dinkins.
I remember the police riot led by Rudolph Guliani against the modest reforms by Dinkins to curb police brutality. I remember a 17 year old Black lad who was beat unconscious on the subway by the “protesting” off-duty cops after the riot. I remember how the cops held signs and banners with racist depictions of Dinkins. I remember what Guiliani said during the protest: “ARE THE COPS RACIST? YES! ARE THE COPS CORRUPT? YES! ARE THE COPS BRUTAL? YES! BUT WE ALL KNOW THAT THE NYPD IS THE BEST POLICE FORCE IN THE WORLD! WE ARE NOT GOING TO LET THAT WASHROOM ATTENDANT OF MAYOR TELL US OTHERWISE!”
Yes. I remember New York but I don't remember 9/11.


“You’re old with rules
We’re not your tools
Fuck your design
You’re in decline.”
-Nitzer Ebb

One can make a definitive meaning of what exactly life is. Easily, in fact. Here are three statements:
Life is life.
People are people.
Things are things.
It appears simple. It does until one attempts to define each statement and then tries to make a final definition using each one to describe the whole. This can become problematic when taking into the more tedious task of defining each definition.
One could leave the three statements above and leave defining to each individual perception but that would be too easy and for many, the easy route arouses suspicion and scepticism. ‘I could make my own inference but the statements are too simplistic. There must be a more complicated organism beneath the surface.’
I came under fierce mental attack by the Nebulans yesterday. The enemy continues to assault Metropolis. They brought in their allies and I was outnumbered. The enemy has kept me divided from my allies. My right hand ally has been driven out of the city. My spiritual advisor had been isolated within her domain.
Today, I suddenly found myself under fierce psychological attack. I was overwhelmed with emotions of depression and desperation. Instead of fighting back, I was despondent and let the feelings run away. My enemy became manic in the face of my absence of will to fight back. I retreated from the city and the planet. I fled to WehrSol with no intention of ever returning to Earth. My enemy had assembled en masse to attack. All was lost, I thought.
On WehrSol. I was back at my assignment as transportation coordinator. I flashed back to Earth by the siren and horn of a Fire Engine passing my flat here in Metropolis. The phone rang. It was an ally who called to inquire if I were all right. This week will be the worst week of fierce fighting. If I can survive the week, then the war can be salvaged. I will not survive if lost. Clearly this is the darkest week. I hope we can survive. Unfortunately, many of my allies are my detractors as well for reasons which I can only speculate.
Love does not exist. In fact, I question if it ever did. The sad truth of the matter is that it never has. At least not in reality. Love has always been in the minds of humans expressed through prose, literature, music and cinema. Since it exists in folklore it is mistakenly believed to really exist.
This lie must be exposed and discredited once and for all. What is most dangerous is that most humans know the lie exists but nonetheless continue to believe. I too, had believed this lie and like others have been betrayed. Never again!
I feel anger, aggression, bitterness, hatred, fuck, shit, pissed off, jacked off, fucked off, offended, frustration, tedium, oppressed, detached, suppressed, crestfallen, disappointed, detested, enraged, depressed, withdrawn, restless, angst, nervous, envy, tense, anxious, repressed.
Some questions. Who am I? What am I? Where am I? It is completely useless to ask these questions to anyone else, for only I can come up with answers to my own questions. Since it would appear that I know myself best.
The problem: I cannot answer these questions whether because I:
a)Don’t know.
b)Do know but am afraid of the answers.
c)Will lie to myself.
Option b seems to be the corner stone of an underlying truth which is being afraid of the truth. Then again, do I really know the truth?
What I can acknowledge is the truth of my own confusion. Simply: I do not know where I fit into the scheme of existence or is it life? Honestly, I cannot fathom the difference between existence and life, truth or false. Out of this confusion brings misery. Nay, rather frustration. What it doesn’t bring is happiness. I rather suspect that happiness does not exist. At best there are moments of joy and contentment.
My excuse? This is how I answer my own questions. Who am I? Meort. What am I? A WehrSolian. Where am I? In Hell. That is all very well but unfortunately I question whether this truly describes the existence of my being. It is very nice to wish that I never landed. There is nothing I can do about it. I am here, therefore I am obliged to carry on. I wouldn’t mind so much if I only know why I should carry on for the sake of humanity.
This is the riddle. According to ‘NSK’; ‘The only key to your riddle is to accept the absence of a key.’ Does this mean that I should settle for nihilism? This is not wise. One should not answer a riddle with another question unless one settles on politicking, which only spins around into a complete circle of nothingness.
More news on the war. On July 4th, my allies stormed and took back their squat buildings. They caught the police off guard. After a heroic struggle, the authorities managed to reclaim the building. The assessment: Our enemy looks strong. Last week I took a severe beating and my allies took one this week. For the time being, the war is one the side of the enemy. There are no prospects on the horizon for a change in the tide. The best we can do is regroup and build a new offensive strategy.
I will go into deep reconnaissance. I need to disappear or at least have the Nebulans think so. I will leave the island and go out to Jah-R-Me Headquarters. Afterwards, I will fly to WehrSol for interplanetary conference and strategy.
Seattle is very important. It is imperative that I get there. I must expose the Nebulan connection and their human collaborators. Nothing much left to do.
tap tap tap tap tap tap tap
this is the translation of transitory thoughts.
the different houses the bosses.
I am on my way to WehrSol. The perfect time to leave. Regroup and re-organise. There is no doubt about the Seattle mission. It could come any day. I have two allies on standby. Before I go to Seattle, there is much briefing and training to go through. Then I will rest. Essentially, I am in a holding pattern. I can fly again. Sehr gut.
The saddest thing about the human species is its utter lack of sense and awareness. One could have an easier time communicating with simple species such as cats then attempting to be sensible with humans.
With that said, so what? I am seriously contemplating severing all lines of communication with humans. I really do not need them. As allies, they are less significant than my other allies. Humans just cannot understand the meaning of this war. If I attempt to explain they either assume that:
a)I am conveying fiction.
b)I am conveying madness.
They are wretched creatures. It is by their own will and consent that they are subjugated by the Nebulans. The human is a coward in essence. This perturbs me beyond endurance and now I must weep. Weep out of sadness as well as anger. Anger not just towards the humans but towards myself as well. I am angry that I took this assignment. Anger at loving the humans. Anger for the human ungratefulness to my love. Anger at my own failings.
That is the secret truth. Yes, I am a failure. A failure. Just one disaster after another. I do not deserve my rank and position. I do not deserve to be in this war. I am tired. I surrender to my enemy. The Nebulans can do as they please with me.
I hereby tender my resignation with the WIK. As of now, I no longer exist in the consciousness of the allies, my enemy nor anyone else. Meort no longer exists. Effective immediately.
After my resignation, things have become easier. Upon my arrival on WehrSol, I met with the Council of Gods and Goddesses. They have placed me on a mandatory holiday. They insist that I relax for three revolutions. During this period, I will be given all the luxuries of plenty. Upon completion, if I still want to resign then it will go into immediate effect.
I agree with this position. I am what they call on Airstrip: Shell-shocked. I desperately needed this respite. I am also relieved from my transport duties. This will be a time for reflection and introspection. I do not want to think about the war. News about the war have not reached my ears of which I utter no complaints. My friends have missed me and have rekindled warm favour within my spirit.
WehrSol is quite peaceful. Life continues without disturbance. Though it is the primary base of operations in the war against the Nebulans, it is well defended and we have had peace ever since we fought the Nebulans out of our domain.
Still, despite the tranquillity, I am feeling lonely. My friends, though supportive, fail to alleviate the loneliness. Eru came for a visit recently. She told me how proud she was of my efforts in the war. That she and the others on the Council really admire and respect what she described as my ‘uncompromising resoluteness’. Invariably our conversation touched upon romance. Eru insisted how it was not good for me to love a human from the Airstrip simply because of their inadequacies to the needs of WehrSolians.
Eru went on to describe in great and painstaking honesty about the petty and silly concerns of earth women. Her criticisms were rather scathing but I knew them to be accurate based upon my experience. Then Eru said that it was not good for someone like myself to be isolated without companionship. She implored me to forget about women from Earth and to find a native either from the Golden or Lightheads. I agreed. Eru informed that I should anticipate someone to storm into my life and ignite a great fire of passion. Naturally, I laughed at her and retorted how she had a witty even poetical way with words. Eru was not terribly pleased with my flippant remark and instantly slapped me. I sat stunned and debilitated and watched in a stupor as she followed with an impassioned diatribe.
‘How dare you insult me and make a mockery of all that I stand for! I am fed up with your flippant, callous and cheeky remarks. I have read your logs. I do not comprehend your utter contempt for love. Ever since you existed, I showered love through friends and mentors. What do you do? You walk all over them!’
Eru paused and glared at me. I could never forget how her eyes blazed pierced through mine. I kept up my indignant countenance. Her words, nay her spirit penetrated my stony heart. I sat desperately thinking of a very clever response. None came.
‘Why do you not understand love?’ She asked rhetorically.
‘Is it because it is more powerful than the almighty Meort?’
It was a staggering blow which I could not take. If she had been anyone else, I would have quickly bounced them out of my domicile bodily. Not Eru. The one female whom I have always secretly feared.
‘Or is it because you are afraid of love?’ Eru continued as if she had read my thoughts.
‘Why are you afraid of love?’ Eru was probing my mind.
‘I don’t know.’ I stammered.
‘Instead you chose rage, anger, hatred, detachment. You silly boy. Do you know that love is more than that? Stronger than that? Deeper than that? You call yourself a poet!’
I cringed in my seat. I wanted to run. Run away from Eru. Run away from WehrSol. Run away from myself. Eru knew this. I realised then what she was doing. She was showing off her power.
‘You have disgraced the honour of all those who call themselves poets. You have disgraced my name and being. This cannot go unpunished.’ Eru was speaking in prophetic tenors of discipline.
‘I will send you into exile from loneliness. I sentence you into involuntary servitude of love. Do not attempt to resist or escape. I know you, Meort. Your skills of sneaking and manoeuvring your way out of difficult circumstances are far unsurpassed but this will be an exception. The more you resist, the stronger will you attract love. You cannot win this fight against me. I’ve got you now, little boy.’
Eru stood up and stepped out of my domicile. Typical of my life. I go from one war to another. The Nebulans and Love are against me. Help!
After Eru had a go at me I wanted to listen to news from Earth. That wretched planet is on the verge of another world war. Time is quickly running out to evacuate all essential comrades. This impending war seems utterly senseless. The United States is desperately torn between its role as the lone superpower and its need to tidy up its domestic issues. In Russia, no one seems to know who is running their country. China is poised to start asserting itself as an Asian power by bullying its neighbours.
The eyes of the universe are fixed upon Earth. The ignorant humans! They are so blinded by their sheer arrogance and haughtiness. I am resolved not to resign. I will still, however, enjoy my holiday. I will spend the time writing and researching. After my holiday, I will go into re-training. After which, I will return to Airstrip directly to Seattle. Sars will be pleased with the news as will the others on the Council. Not for duty, honour, glory nor any other vain and shallow reasons. Nay, only for love. I am still not quite sure what love means or what it actually is but I am willing to find out. Eru will teach me and help to overcome my fear. Of all the allies, I have ignored her most. I really cannot blame her anger towards me. Of course she is a strong woman and is always right.
Women are really stronger than men. We have always known this fact. Men are actually the weak cowards. This is why on Earth they insist of subjugating women. The conclusion of this war will change all of that. I pray that women will use their enormous compassion and mercy when they receive the upper hand. I am quite willing to accept this objective fact.
I am in training again. Holiday break is over. I have been cleared of Shell-shock as an image. I should back on duty. Past was a hallucination. I have come face to face with madness and it rejected me. Madness wants nothing to do with me. I do not fit within its parameters. Lesson number one in training.
Part of my training was to enter state as if the Nebulans have occupied on the Airstrip. The exercise was Mickey Mouse in Metropolis. For this exercise, I faced an assortment of images and people I would most likely encounter. I had to use the capabilities of a five year old human. More likely the capabilities of one now in Nep. I am doing the manoeuvres are difficult but get done. Timing is very important. It is very disorienting to be one place to another unexpected place very rapidly. I flew on a gravity hopper. There are degrees of pressure. Once one becomes accustomed to one degree it is time to experience a new one. I suppose however that this is discipline of my balance. I am still following gravity hopper. I haven’t full what they mean. Everything is all right.
take my hand
give it a stroke
respect is the command
when we can cope
the meaning of the riddle
the absence of the key
you are in the middle
the answer you seek is clear
the absence of conversation
is the entity of death
there are no complications
it extends to the prophets

just jest jet joy
lust lets light low
must met might mein
rust regret rest rhine
there are different places
with individual maps
however for each are cases
where exists no caps
the end of the races
conflict and dispute
completely unnecessary
i might be wrong
it would appear that personal clashes are unavoidable
if they are unavoidable
then perhaps they are necessary?
the middle of summer
in the centre of nowhere
Hell is the most boring place
i have ever been
here you are tortured by boredom
the sheer lack of inspiration
anything more exciting than this can only be good
the loneliness of the no distance runner
the future is now
no more talk or speculation
the future
all one can do is act upon the present
the future is nothing but a dream
an abstraction
the present is all that we have
with the past acting as a compass
I was summonsed to an emergency meeting in Nep with the Council. A new crisis has emerged within the alliance. Our human allies on the Airstrip are attempting to usurp total control over the operation. One agent gave detailed reports citing human belligerence toward the WehrSolians. With the planet on the verge of another world war, the humans have lost their composure and rationality.
The agent went into further details. The humans feel that we are no longer capable of fighting with them on that front. For obscure philosophical reasons, the humans want us out of the war as equal partners and insist that we subordinate to them if we wish to remain. We are to give a reply within an Earth week or be expelled.
It was reported that Rastafarians and some Marxists were the ones leading this pursuit of annihilation. They assert claims that the human species is the superior race throughout the universe. In addition, they deny our existence and believe that we are humans and do not realise that our origins are from other dimensions and time.
Needless to say, this complicates our mission. The last thing the alliance needed was an internal split. The obstinate and crass Earthlings! They cannot defeat the Nebulans! They think that the war is simply a political and economic field of academics. They believe that their fight is against capitalism and reactionary politics. We have patiently tried to illustrate that the spread of neo-liberal and fascist politics are actually the machinations of a more diabolical dictatorship which will not be defeated by protests and votes but rather through the manipulation of energy!
There was much debate amongst ourselves on which course of action to follow. After long and painstaking debate, we reached the following decisions:
1)Send diplomats to meet with the dissenting humans.
2)Side-step the possibility of complete breakdown with the immediate evacuation.
3)Start a military offensive against the Nebulans on the Airstrip to divert and pre-occupy as well as to show our importance and strength to the sceptical humans.
I was assigned to go back to the Airstrip and to prepare for evacuation. A team of three diplomats will have a debate with the humans. For us, it is seen as an educational seminar for the humans. Three of our best thinkers will be sent. Our aim is not to persuade humans to leave their home, but rather to explain that they are not the first intelligent species and certainly not the last in the universe. In essence, to impart knowledge that will benefit them for the future when they will take back control of Earth.
The military offensive will first attack the dark side of the Moon, where the Nebulans have set up a watch post and garrison. Following that, we will control the satellite communications network. This will attempt to blind our enemy and make it confused. The first city on the surface to be attacked will be Seattle. The objective of the attack is simply to hold the enemy long enough to evacuate our agents. I leave for Metropolis. My holiday is over. Here we go again.
I am on my way to Airstrip. Just finished reading my assignment briefs.
Just arrived in Metropolis. It is deserted and eerily quiet as well as being extremely hot. I am getting adjusted to my human form once again. It is evening. The sun’s potency is fading quickly. During my absence, the Nebulans have solidified their control over the telecommunication networks. Their web over the planet is nearly complete. The mission gets trickier and tighter as the window of opportunity narrows.
Walking down the street I ran into an old acquaintance. I had hardly recognised her for she seemed barely alive. She remembered my face but not my name. The woman appeared wretched. She was dying. Dying from white blood love.
While the Nebulans control the world, vampires run Metropolis. Specifically, they control advertising. There is ample evidence of this. Calvin Klein dominates advertising in the city. It comes as no surprise that he is opening a shop on Madison Avenue. Further evidence of the growing vampire population is the operation of Crate and Barrel, which is also on Madison Avenue. Vampires no longer live in coffins, they now sleep in crates.
The predominate drug of choice is heroin. Heroin can be consumed by either snorting through the nostrils or by intravenous injection. With the latter, it is injected directly into the blood stream. Blood is the staple diet of vampires.
Currently, the city is rejoicing over the significant decline in crime. Meaning conventional crime such as robbery, assault, murder, etc. However, more unconventional crime rises. These incidents are never reported to the public for possible reasons. The first being that these escape police notice. The second is that a police cover-up and press blackout is in effect. The third may be that there is complacency by both police and journalists.
The current police commissioner is from Boston. It is known that Massachusetts has the highest incidents of inexplicable deaths, disappearances and other oddities. There has been much speculation that the legal authorities in that state deliberately cover up these incidents. As well that many members of law-enforcement and politics are associated with various forms of occult philosophies.
Recently, Metropolis Newsday went out of business. It was the only truth telling daily publication. The Village Sound, considered to be the most informative investigative newspaper in the country is being dismantled slowly. Had these publications come across something about the strange changing character of the city?
The residents of the city are becoming stranger. A silence permeates through Metropolis. Movement around the city is becoming limited. Travel between the boroughs on public transportation is being eroded. The water supply, which was once considered the best in the world is now tainted.
What is one to make of the gothic character Metropolis? The continuous encroachment of hypnosis beckons near and yonder. The blood love continues to increase while the bloodshed decreases. This strange paradox must make for great fiction. This plot thickens as much as a blood clot. When I left Boston three years ago, I thought that the vampires were behind me. I was right in fact. My hindsight prevented me from knowing they were following behind.
Tomorrow I am to report on the progress of the mission. Unfortunately there is not much to report. Nothing has happened. I haven’t been able to find anyone. The way it looks, Seattle doesn’t seem like it is going to happen.
I am disenchanted, moody and downright unhappy. This mission is an abject failure. What else is new. Failure has been the leitmotiv since I have been back on Airstrip. My superiors are going to be displeased and I will face unpleasant questioning and unnecessary undermining comments on my performance.
Do I care? Not really. I have exerted all of my resources on this mission. I am burnt out. If I am yanked out and sent home, it would be welcomed. I have no friends to speak of here. No love or environment for personal enrichment. What is the point? The Nebulans are winning. The humans are on the verge of annihilating themselves. The Nebulans have this planet under total control.
The meeting was held in the SoHo district of New York on the continent called North America. All of the leaders of individual assignments were assembled for debriefing. The total number was 54. Before the official meeting began, there were informal discussions held between the agents. Each sharing tales and incidents with one another. Some tales were full of bitterness and resignation. Others told upbeat and enthusiastic stories, though not without exaggeration.
Each agent submitted copies of their written reports. Meort arrived with a feeling of dread which uncomfortably occupied every corner of his stomach. It had been a disappointing two weeks and he felt ashamed of his report. Meort dwelled and recalled each failure through his personal history. To his disadvantage, he was unable to recognise his successes which outnumbered his defeats. He insisted and consigned himself to contemptuous self pity. When he conversed with other agents, Meort would bemoan the inadequacies which he saw in himself. The other agents would turn away from Meort because his overwhelming depression smothered them. The meeting was chaired by Nep, who could always keep a conference orderly and on schedule. Nep opened with the topic of his participation in the debate with human allies along with Keop and Kom...
How many times have I been saved from annihilation? How many times have I been saved? The theme for the coming season will be about love. I wish to explore, discover, encounter and converse with love. In other words, to love love or for love to love me.
Love is a peculiar emotion. Complicated and nearly impossible to describe and comprehend. Modern science and psychology are clueless on the subject. Love is something both familiar and alien at the same time. Philosophy has attempted to solve the puzzling element that seems to dictate conscious beings. Philosophy has failed to define love universally. At best, philosophers have only come up with personal interpretations limited to individual perception.
One can arrive at individual reasons why they love the things they do. I am unable to define why I love into a lump definitive reason. The origins of love are unknown. Why we love remains a mystery.
Love and objectivity are incompatible. They cancel each other. This is why science has not solved the mystery of love. For science requires astute emotional detachment. While psychology examines emotions and their motivations, it faces the grand contradiction. How can one understand emotion while being removed from it? The questions are: Is there an equation for love and if so, what is it?
Where ever science fails, one often turns toward religious or spiritual ideas for answers. Let us take a look into the Judaic-Christian notions presented in the Bible. While love is mentioned from the first book of Genesis to last book of Revelations, the key to unlocking the mystery still doesn’t open the door to understanding. It is believed that love is divine(it comes from God). Most theologians believe that God is love. It is believed that this solves the mystery of the origins of love. Unfortunately, a simple answer is not adequate enough for my inquest. Aside from the theologian question, if God is love, then where is God from: it still fails to explain the essence of love. If God is love, why is that so? A sophomoric question, perhaps. Maybe a better question is what is the motivation of love? For the theologian God=Love. This is unsatisfactory because it fails to account for the essence of both God and Love. In essence this equation is incomplete. The riddle of the equation follows as Love=God(?)
Or maybe better:
God divided by love equals?
In the Christian belief God is represented as a trine. My answer is that at least a third element is required if not more. To be mathematically accurate instead of a question mark let us write: (God)(Love)X.
It is nearly uniformly accepted that love is strictly a condition of the human spirit. In other words, without the human element love does not exist. Insects and plants are not perceived to be able to associate with love. A human may love plants and insects but these objects cannot reciprocate love. In essence love cannot be universal.
Hate is the opposite of love. The two are polarised. If that is the case, then love and hate cannot exist without the other. It is even understood in the bible that god has both qualities attributed to its essence. So if we want to investigate the origins of love, we are resigned to do the same for hate. An equally strong and powerful emotion.
That is the theoretical investigation into love. In practice it reveals a different picture. The prevalence of faux love is the leitmotiv. Treachery and deceit in the name of love. Is that what love is? Is this the essence or creation of love? If it is, then I am critically disillusioned by the notion. The conceivability that sanctified love is also corrupt sheds an unfortunate connotation of a so-called pure entity.
Love, it appears, has become a consumable commodity. In the marketplaces of love there are many choices. One love. Free love. Platonic love. Brotherly love. Sisterly love. Passionate love, etc. Wow! Many selections to chose from. If one is not satisfied then combination orders are allowed as well.
On the other hand, who am I to determine what is faux as opposed to genuine love. Maybe perhaps the reverse is true. The negativity of love is what makes it affirmative. Being a consumer commodity, one is free to take or dispense with what one wants or needs. Possibly both or neither. It is a choice. If none of the items suit your fancy, one should shop somewhere else for an alternative. Fair enough.
I wonder if Einstein took the element of love into his theory of relativity or if possibly the element of love was integrated after his theory was widely accepted in this schema of logic. That possibility is plausible.
The discovery days ahead. One stop or possibly more. I am getting closer. What is happening? It is happening is it not? What can I possibly discover in Metropolis? Something? Someone? A reflection of myself. What I seek is underground. The unknown and unseen.
It appears that the machine will come to a grinding halt. When this happens, a new revolution will be underway. The cause will be about spirit and will. The last chains to remove are the chains of consciousness or simpler: the liberation of the mind and spirit.
The past leads to the present. From the present arrives the future. The present is the eternal keystone of both. For the present is always. Time, the creator of the past and future is nullified by the present. The present is the future of what has happened.
Tempted by the devil itself to try the magic potion which is oh so popular commodity. ‘Join us. We like to trade with the dragon!’ The test. Pass it and top the rest. The sequence was synthesised. More specifically, the sequence was in tight sync. Danger was everywhere. I was able to have a good chuckle here and there throughout the time sequence of the evening. There was blood spilled. My body was sealed, protected. I consumed much caffeine to rough the edge of this little exercise. At the conclusion the IRT provided the exit ride. I had passed. Pop pop fizz fizz oh what a relief it is. Hurrah. Hurrah.
Metropolis politics. Question. How did The Joker become mayor? Quite a curious phenomena how this shrill and petulant little man became ‘Hizzoner’. He did so simply by lying. By using opportunistic subtle race play was he able to sneak in.
He uses words and catchy little phrases such as ‘quality of life’. A political hack who has a crafty talent for double speak. He romanticises cities such as Indianapolis and St. Louis as models for Metropolis. He brought in an ignorant Boston Townie who could not efficiently run the tiny 1,900 police force up there to take over the 36,000 member Metropolis police force.
Fiscal Responsibility. Definition: Cutting important social programs and free benefits through the implementation of free corporate benefits and giving himself a very generous $35,000 salary raise. ‘Freedom means obeying lawful authority.’ The Joker loses creditability week after week as he is exposed for what he really is. The Joker is running the city into the ground.
The Joker-Mayor Guiliani
The Riddler-Calvin Klein/Advertising
Mr. Wizard-Newt Gingrich
The Penguin-Governor Pataki
Two Face-President Clinton
How much smack should the smack seller sell when the smack seller still sells smack?
Tennis anyone?
The Nebulans use thought control through telecommunication. Television advertising. Don’t believe what the Nebulans on television tell you to do. If doctors, dentists and pharmacists tell you to do something, do the opposite. Do not believe Dan Rather, Peter Jennings or Tom Brokaw. If one watches television, understand and see right through it. Observe and learn. Do not become part of the masses.
The Nebulans are trying to destroy Metropolis. The destruction of Metropolis would cause a world wide financial crash. Their game is one of illusion and deception. For they to win, a full psychic war of sorcery must be waged. It is about to begin. An apocalyptic war. Prepare for the final battle. Let the show start. Humans will stand by and watch the programme. It will be better than television with live special effects which virtual reality can not produce.

when standing on a local platform
the express train past rapidly
underground where it is safe and warm
a feeling and sense of totality
transferring at the world’s crossroads
swinging through the Columbus Circle curve
at 50 miles with a full load
the journey requires strong nerve
Broadway and 7th Avenue Express
Bypass the lesser known stops
NYCTA works without rest
geometrical shapes dot its maps
schnell catch the A train
31 miles in three hours
twenty fours hours through snow and rain
operating on dc power
numbers letters and colours
rhythm and beats added speed
in no other city will you find another
The government of Metropolis is losing legitimacy. As The Joker attempts to make everything a crime while the city crumbles, is taking a psychological toll upon the inhabitants. Seventeen year old cadets comically ‘direct’ midtown traffic. The chaotic spectacle of the subway’s resurgent lack of reliability. Contradictions are arising.
The tabloid press tries to deflect attention by running inflammatory tales of ‘Horrors and Massacres’ (which are routine by-products of metropolitan life) while chiefly contributing to this impending city catastrophe. The quality of life has deteriorated. More graffiti conveys ‘Fuck Guiliani’.
The Joker has announced the funniest joke to date. Just three weeks after his pay raise, he will erect fences on city sidewalks to prevent jay-walking. This is impossible not only for logistical reasons but silly as well. The idea that force can be used to compel eight million people who are accustomed to acting upon their free will. The Joker is asking for rebellion. He wants it and will receive it. Free will in Metropolis forever!
The future is now. Anyone who have read twentieth century literature can attest to this fact. Social and science fiction writers have been remarkably correct with their prophesies. The present was announced in the past. Because of this, humans became inoculated. Before they knew it, they had arrived at their collective destination. Paradoxically, the prophesies have not occurred. There is a psychological delay reaction to the transitions.
An example of this was 1984. Most of the planet read the tale and hoped that fiction would not become reality. When the year 1984 arrived, it literary did not happen because imagination was different from reality. Actually, reality was creating its own interpretation of imagination.
Time being a human invention, has rebelled against them by quietly slipping under the cover of perception by-passing it at the same time. Universality has overcome humanity. Human thought has manifested itself into practice without expressing real time reality. Illegitimacy has become legitimised while legitimacy has become illegitimised.
Mr. Wizard experienced mixed emotions that morning. He was elated by how he had manipulated his powers to bring the masses to do his will. It was a success. Mr. Wizard was from rural Atlanta, unknown to the rest of the world only three years earlier. Now he was the most powerful entity in the United States. Along with Mr. Omni, Mr. Wizard created illusions and hallucinations around the planet. Mr. Wizard felt world dominion within the grasp of his callous and spotted hands.
These high feelings gave way to disturbing, low and unsettling stirrings within his being, far into the vastness of his mind. Mr. Wizard’s control was far from absolute. True, he had manipulated three quarters of the American population yet there was still the remaining quarter who resisted his will. What was wrong with those people?
‘They are stupid!’ His Ego replied. ‘Soon the light will be killed on them and my power will be complete.’
Then his Superego cautioned; ‘Maybe. Could it be that my scheme is not guaranteed?’
That was an impossibility Mr. Wizard could not entertain. The New Age will arrive. It had to for it was written in the stars. His computer software had calculated that his will could achieve the goal. Mr. Wizard’s agents had infiltrated all machines and communications. They had silenced and ‘changed’ the minds of their opponents. However, something was not so easily correctable.
It was the North. The goddamned Metropolis. Up there where contradictions peacefully co-existed. The Devil’s Playground where freedom of thought existed. The godless inhabitants of decay and waste. Mr. Omni, however, would correct that soon. Mr. Omni was to move his command to Metropolis. The prospect of owning the largest plantation possible excited Mr. Omni. A plantation where 17 million humans would be under his domain. Mr. Omni would teach the godless heathens good solid manners and discipline for social moral standards. What those savages needed was a good ol’ fashioned wuppin’!
Once the savage Yankees were domesticated, Mr. Omni would set his final ambition by launching a financial buyout and purchase of all the world’s countries. Then he and Mr. Wizard would have the entire planet plugged into them. However, there was a snag.
Metropolis had the planet’s most massive and active underground movement. Mr. Wizard and Omni had never known anything about the underground movement since in reality, they were Nebulans trying to take over Metropolis. Although, Mr. Wizard had studied and understood the history of humanity on Earth, Metropolis was his blind spot and handicapped his intelligence in this area.
The other most troublesome issue was the presence of the WehrSolian. The WehrSolian was a historian himself who unlike Mr. Wizard knew the history of Metropolis and was an active member of the underground. Two decades prior, the WehrSolian was in Atlanta and had fought Mr. Wizard in a fierce battle of will, skill and spirit. The WehrSolian fought his way out of Atlanta and escaped to the safety of Metropolis.
After losing the Battle of WehrSol and their retreat to Earth, the Nebulans set up their headquarters first in Munich, then in Berlin and after another defeat settled in Atlanta. The WehrSolian settled in Metropolis. In the proxy war between the Nebulans and WehrSolians, the objectives on Earth were different. For Mr. Wizard and the Nebulans, it was to control the minds of humans. For the WehrSolian, it was to expand and open the minds of the humans of Earth.
To defeat the WehrSolian, Mr. Omni saturated the WehrSolian’s mind with images and illusions through telecommunication. This, the Nebulans thought, would leave the WehrSolian unable to think without the aid of their images. It had worked on everyone else so surely it would work against the WehrSolian.
The WehrSolian watched and was enchanted by the images. The WehrSolian had watched thirty two hours each week of various images. Mr. Wizard rejoiced. It was only soon, he thought, that the WehrSolian would become obedient to the images of illusion and not to reality.
Indeed, the WehrSolian watched the illusions. However, as the Nebulans discovered, he watched too much. The WehrSolian analysed each illusion and image. After a while, he understood the entire apparatus of illusion and image thought control. He was not ensnared into the trap. To the contrary, he went to the core got bored and easily went back to reality.
This result perplexed Mr. Omni as it exasperated Mr. Wizard. Thought control failed upon the WehrSolian. Mr. Omni assured Mr. Wizard that it was only a temporary set back. Mr. Omni would trouble shoot. He advised Mr. Wizard to save Metropolis for last as they finished their take-over of the rest of the land. Perhaps, for the present moment, Metropolis was too large an apple to chew and swallow. They pursued a strategy to take over the west and south and then move east and north. This would encircle Metropolis for the last assault. It was a long and tedious process while being subtle at the same time. Every front of thought control was silently constructed. Information consolidated as money and power took the form of plastic and entered into the invisible world of virtual reality. Indeed, Metropolis was encircled becoming an island nation of autonomous thought.
The perpetual onslaught of illusion and image began to affect the inhabitants of Metropolis. The Joker assumed the mayoralty and initiated thought control. The Joker’s version was more primitive than that in the rest of the land. Metropolis thought control consisted of making hitherto activities illegal and processing infractors into a national computer. The Joker’s illusion did not last for long and the inhabitants exercised their freedom of thought to express their displeasure.
Misters Wizard and Omni fell into despair. Their subtlety was not working. Their secret was no longer a secret. Exposed, they had gone too far. A retreat would signal weakness. A continued assault would be a declaration of open war. ‘THE SOUTH WILL RISE AGAIN!’ became their sloganeering.
The WehrSolian, feeling the danger posed by the Nebulans remained calm. He was safe as long as he remained in Metropolis or outside of the United States. It was war without doubt. The WehrSolians battle cry in response to the reactionaries was: ‘Humanity will rise above you!’
“Our period is the period of reportage than the period of the work of art.” -Albert Camus
“Change is constant.” -La Sashika
Nostalgia has its purpose. The idea of what was with the fondness for what was. The sense of returning and capturing elements of the past. It is commonly said that the more things change the more they remain the same. This is correct and incorrect. It is true that there are essential elements of human life that remain at base withstanding the charges of evolution. However, with evolution of contemporary ages transform, create and discard superstitions, customs and philosophies of the human species.
There is a comfortable tendency to lament the present for the joys and sorrows of the past. When the decade of the 1990s established itself, we began to see the playback of all the details of the previous epoch. While we looked forward we saw the beginning of the end. It is, to be honest, an alarming sign. So alarming in fact that some view the future with cynicism, which is one of two trends of perception towards the future. The other equally alarming feature is opportunistic optimism. The former is conservatively negative. The latter is progressively negative.
With the human species having come full circle, the mirror apparatus has been set. The opposite negation of all things known and unknown. One person’s aspirations and dreams is another’s despair and nightmare. This great schism has existed during the entirety of the last epoch. The time has come for reconciliation and reunion. This must come in the form of communication. It is tricky because we now reach the depths of uncharted charted regions. The question that remains is this: What type of communication? Moreover, in what form or language?
The advent of the 20th Century was greeted with widespread enthusiasm. Regardless of the spectrum of philosophy one engaged, including opposing ones, there was much hope for and of the future. With the promise of industrial technology along
the premise of “The Enlightenment”, humans projected that the 20th Century would find the highest state of humanity. Some predicted the fall of the established order would lead to the
“City of Man”. Others opposed this and believed that the forces of the status quo would properly lead to the “City of man”.
Twenty-something years into the 20th century disillusionment manifested as the promising City of Man” turned into the metropolis. This was where the transformation from reality to surrealism occurred. Today humans have nostalgia for virtue. Created from the ancient Greeks and put to rest by “Enlightened Men”, brings forth the concept of virtual reality.
The promise of the “City of Man” fulfilled many of its details. Humanity was brought together and unified, yet the differences between people psychologically was vast and distant. The surrealism of living with millions brought about juxtaposition of existence. On one hand the world was united and on other it created millions to be torn apart to destruction. For the first time space became a tangible subject.
The conquest over nature created a new set of problems. Humanity had been united yet antagonisms still persisted. This time on a new scale. Laws on human conduct were needed to reduce such conflicts. Communal space became elusive as personal space became more and more non-existent.
A new religion was born to address these issues. The religion was physics. Its ideology was relativity. Relativity was introduced to cushion personal antagonisms. In the unity of humanity, personal conflicts spilled into political conflicts, which sparked national conflicts that set flame to World War and consequently Cold War. This abolished the notion of the absolute. Individual ambition was encouraged. Unfortunately, in order the to keep the unity of relative humanity, it’s contradiction was born: Universality. This dilemma was not recognised. If existence is relative, how then does it justify the equation E=MC2? Once again to solve a contradiction another is created. This was why the 20th Century’s signature was nihilism.
The Century of Nihilism. Indeed, it was the era of the superhuman. The atomic age cracked a secret of the universe. The sound barrier was broken. In essence, planet Earth was conquered.
By the middle of the century, a new phenomenon overtook western civilisation: Consumerism. According to its economic and political proponents: Freedom=Choice of Consumption. This was ostensibly opposed by Communism in the East. It’s ideological equation was: Production Control=Freedom.
The former flourished. Dealing with multiples of statistics, humanity itself became the prime commodity. Freedom meant having producers give limited choices for humanity. Coke or Pepsi. GM or Ford. Firestone or Goodyear. Exxon or Texaco. New York Yankees or New York Mets.
Currently at the beginning of a new epoch, the West which dominates the globe has faced another dilemma. As a quartet of Englishmen once asked: “What happens when the intoxication of success has evaporated?” Simple. Eliminate choice by consolidation, thereby destroying the freedom of consumption to monopolised existence. There is one last choice one can take.
One is better than nothing at all. Use monopolised products and live a monopolised lifestyle. If not, one can exclude themselves to die. No one really cares but that is your choice.
At last the final unity of humanity. Oneness and wholesomeness. One telecommunication. One media. One food source. One government. One world. One people. Equality? Yes, of course. In all there is one. Uneven? Yes. Fair? Who needs to speculate on
such trivial information when OJ Simpson and Princess Die are much more important. What we have is one language: Double-Speak.
Double Speak is when nothing has any importance other than itself.
What will the future hold if we continue with this trend? It appears not to be very bright nor progressive. The future is up to as individuals with our independent minds. There are other choices. The motto for the State of New Hampshire is “Live Free or Die”. This was not meant out of meaningless sentimentality. Nor was it meant to be used as a pop cliche based on some abstrak notion. To use advertising slogans: THE REAL THING. BRAND NEW! IMPROVED! FRESH!


“Useless. So fucking useless.”

1996: The destiny of this planet will be determined. The Nebulans along with their collaborators are making a surge of power. Television is controlling the minds of humans. Telecommunication. The last point of contention. If this is history’s end then it must be revealed. The memory of humanity is about to be erased. The truth of the past must be revealed. The 21st Century is arriving soon. Will it be the century of continuing evolution or will it be the repetition and recycling of the dark ages?
The Universal Declaration of Human Rights is the model document of the planet. Should it be scratched and removed, then the formal declaration of war will occur. New York City is at the centre of this free society. It is also the centre of the corrupt global finance apparatus. New York will be the site of the final battle for the liberation of the mind.
Opposing forces: Spirit vs. Machine. Reality vs. Virtual Reality. Those of us that are free from psychological control are the ones to fight this war. It is up to us. We must win. There mustn’t be any doubt. The wall will fall. The machine will come to a grinding halt. The show will start. No more debate. Once I settle my accounts with the Nebulans, my tribe leaves. L.S.D. will provide the transportation.
We exist.
We have the will.
We are producing.
Atlanta has made a fool of itself during the Olympics. The city is in chaos. Many countries have complained and commented of the abysmal organisation; especially in transport. The Nebulan’s ambitious program of control has fallen flat on its face. Atlanta is finished. Now it is time to focus here in Metropolis.
The so-called authorities here in Metropolis are realising that thought control is not working. This has frustrated and perplexed them. Their last and only strategy is to inconvenience the citizens by making life difficult. They do this by slowing things down and forcing high technology upon a reluctant and sceptical populous.
The news media here in Metropolis are collaborating to slow things down and keep the city under aerial surveillance with their helicopters and ‘SkyCams’. Using military radar under the guise of ‘shadow traffic’ and ‘accu-weather’.
While their scheme is grandiose, it is destined to fail for the following reason: A tangible foundation is needed to legitimise control. In past totalitarian regimes, the foundation was an ideology of substance. Today’s attempt has no ideology except words which have no meaning and the opposite of what they convey, thereby cancelling itself out.
The Nebulans have been conspicuously quiet of late. This is an election year. They are up to scheming something diabolical for their agenda. The Council on WehrSol have been silently watching my progress. They have not made any effort to communicate. I am doing my assignment properly and no new directives have been given.
The other day I met two Pleadieans who reside in Connecticut. They were initially surprised to encounter me until they understood that it was less a coincidence than their initial impressions suggested.
The Nebulans are faltering because they have surrounded themselves with hostile forces. The WehrSolians are opposed to them but now they are also finding that many reactionary Earth humans are also opposing them. These are mad religious zealots who are believing the lies and illusions from the Nebulans. They believe that media and government are too liberal and immoral.
How did the Nebulans fuck up? Simple. They are fuck ups reaping what they have sown. A twisted irony which hastens their demise. They now must garner the human authorities to stop the crazed armed right wing ‘resistors’, while trying to fight against thought resistors like myself.
Each day I discover more and more allies as I walk down the streets of Manhattan. Strangers communicate to me through cryptic hand gestures and eye contact. The level of psychic awareness and connections are rising daily.
The planet is stupid and I will suffer for that. Human beings will give fascism a final go hoping that their problems will be solved. Only after they realise their error, will they be ready for my assistance. Fine, I will detach myself, stand back and watch the asses fuck themselves. No one will be able to say that I did not try my best to warn human beings. The Nebulans will not affect me because I have stripped them of their power over me. However, the asses of the masses will get what they deserve.
John asks of Petty Merry:
‘May I fuck you?’
Petty Merry says to John:
‘I have a headache and do not need any more aches.’
John then asks of Petty Merry
‘May I eat you?’
Petty Merry replies that she is suffering from a cold sweat and any more fluids on her body would be most unpleasant.
John asks Petty Merry:
‘Will you give me a hand job?’
Petty Merry states that she has arthritis and the damp weather today makes his request an impossibility.
John now frustrated exclaims:
‘Gee Petty Merry! Is there anything we can do together that is fun!’
‘Sure!’ Petty Merry says and calls for her brother Flat Matt.
‘Flat Matt’, says Petty Merry. ‘Can you do me a favour? Can you castrate John and put his organ in a ziplock bag so that I can use it anytime I want?’
The temperature in Metropolis has risen. At LGA, the mercury climbed to 96 F. There is danger everywhere. The Nebulans are making circumstances extremely difficult forcing elements of the populace into desperate and extreme measures. The so-called authorities are practising exercises of mass control. Everyone knows it is happening.
Life is never kind, even when one is. I have tried to warn people about the impending fascism but as usual, no one listened. So be it. The asses want fascism then they will get what they ask for. My allies never took me seriously. When they realise their error then it will be too late. I will laugh as I watch them sink.
News from Atlanta. One weekend a baby was killed by a cockroach. It was the first known case of a human killed by one. The cockroach entered the nostrils of the child and crawled down into the lungs. The baby choked to death. The parents witnessed the child go into convulsions.
Alone in a crowd of lazy sunbathers in Central Park. A low flying police surveillance helicopter with a digital camera placed on the bottom facing the ground cruises around in circles overhead and nobody seems to mind. I am in the Sheep Meadow where only three years ago it was the leisure centre. It was the point in the city where anyone who wanted to could smoke marijuana or take as many pills of ecstasy or sheets of acid unhindered. One could find some of the most interesting characters of the city. It has since been cleaned up by The Joker. The Sheep Meadow is now a yuppie(young uninspiring peons) hive.
temper temper
let it simmer
extreme degree
a calm decree
to be clear
scatter the debris
clean swift and sharp
to the most extreme arc
reinforce and reassure
change is constant
so too is thought
a natural drain
to utter complete relaxation and reflection
The South is acting up again. The 34th Black church in 18 months was set ablaze. This reinforces my connection between Atlanta and fascism. While the North is no paradise, it is far less hostile and more civilised than the South.
Despite the blatant racism of the church fires, the Republicans and the Right still have not waken up reality. The Republican Governor of North Carolina has refused to visit the site of a burned church with the President because he does not want to upset his constituents. The Right has accused the President of playing politics due to his public opposition of the fires.
An editorial in the New York Post denounced the fires but stated that there was no proof that the fires were racially motivated. Plus this does not mean that Affirmative Action and other civil rights should not be dismantled. In other words, the burning of Black churches is bad, however our society is colour blind and there is no longer any need for civil rights protections for minorities, whom are viewed as special interests. This is Germany and the year is 1936.
Over the past week, the city has been enshrouded within a dense fog.
The other night I dreamt that I was in Seattle. The landscape was dreary and dark. I was in a district of Seattle called Brooklyn.
time is a four letter word
an evil disgusting plague in the world
tick tick tick
four letters that make me sick
time is a four letter word
from which the blood in my veins curls
beyond my reach above my head
weighing heavier than a ton of lead
time is a four letter word
it rots and stinks as four day old turd
making me nauseous absorbing my attention
working years towards the measly pension
time is a four letter word
twenty four hours of nothing but the absurd
fuck shit damn piss
oh by the way, time is a four letter word.
Greetings Friends,
This is my feeble excuse for not filing any reports recently. The last winter, to put it less eloquently, was fucked up. The heat is on this season and I will waste no time. Things in New York are strange. Not in the usual mad arse New York style which makes it unique and charming. No. New York is crumbling and the energy has changed. The Nebulans are attempting to take the city but are finding it more difficult than in other American cities. Let me explain.
Telecommunication domination in our brave new information world has finally arrived here in Metropolis. First New York Telephone became NYNEX. Now NYNEX is merging with Bell Atlantic. This means that half of the eastern seaboard of the USA will be under one provider. It started with the telephone exchanges. Now all of the TV stations have been taken over by multi-national corporations. New York is the broadcast transmission centre of the country.
Channel 4 WNBC has recently added two new editions. The first is Chopper 4.
Chopper 4 is a hi-tech helicopter used for surveillance. It has the latest in audio technology which can record sounds as low as 5 decibels from more than 3000 feet in the air. It has radar and other hardware first used by the Pentagon. Channel 4 announced and showed all of these features and information to the public boasting how Chopper 4 gave them a competitive edge over the other local news broadcasts. It is simply a marketing campaign to lure viewers. I was aghast upon seeing this on television.
Months later followed additional hype: ‘If you thought Chopper 4 was impressive, wait till you see what we have for you next!’ I was fascinated and nervous at the same time. Now Channel 4 has the ‘SkyCam’ network. In 15 locations across the Tri-State area cameras are placed on top of billboards, skyscrapers and other structures. The benefit? To give driving commuters on site visuals for traffic congestion. The cameras are located on some of the bridges(including the Williamsburg Bridge), tunnels and yes the Airports. This is all very well except for a serious logistical flaw in the stated logic for the use of the cameras. Who watches television while they are driving? At work most bosses prohibit televisions. So either WNBC (which is owned by General Electric Corp.) threw away millions on equipment which will be of no practical benefit to drivers and viewers; or Channel 4 is experimenting with mass social control.
The leading indicator of the state of the city is the subway. The subway is getting worse by the day. After the fare hike to $1.50 last year, service had become abysmal. The reason being that our fine asshole for Mayor Guiliani along with our robber baron Governor Pataki have either drastically cut city funding and eliminated state funding for the MTA. With help coming neither from the City or the State the NYCTA is broke. Two weeks ago the Lex #6 train exploded due to faulty brakes. Conductors are being eliminated on some lines. 1500 token clerks have been laid off in preparation for the MetroCard. Check this one out!
MetroCard was introduced two years ago as an alternative to tokens. However, unlike other cities which offer daily, weekly or monthly passes which offer discounts and unlimited rides, the MetroCard is a scam. If you buy a $15 card, well you only get that worth of rides because every time you swipe your card through, $1.50 is deducted from the card. In other words, one may just as well continue to use tokens. The TA was puzzled by how only 5% of riders used the MetroCard. In order to pressure people, they have sacked 1500 token clerks and some stations only have MetroCard vending machines. Between now and November, the 160,000 daily passengers who use the 51st Street and Lexington Avenue station which connects three lines, will lose their free transfer due to ‘construction work’, which will close the connecting tunnels between the IND E and F lines to IRT lines. However, if using a MetroCard, one needs to leave the system walk a coupe blocks to the connecting station and get a ‘free transfer’. Everybody knows that this is bullshit and people are getting angry. A subway activist was quoted in the newspaper: ‘If I were on the F line, I would give the TA a F for their lack of a free transfer and short notice.’ Since this mostly affects commuters from Queens (the largest borough), this is dangerous and playing with fire. The Queens Borough President said: ‘there will be the potential for chaos.’
The other day was the hottest day of the year. Out in Staten Island, people attacked the police for their mistreatment of an elderly black woman. The police were attacked with bottles and bricks. They were forced and barricaded within their Precinct House. From the Precinct House, the residents of the housing projects marched onto Staten Island Borough Hall to protest.
The Nebulans are not taking New Yorkers seriously and that is a pity. Until recently, only poor Blacks and Latinos have been stomped upon. Now they are fucking with working and middle class white property owners who voted for Guiliani in the first place. The so called ‘white ethnica’ outer borough residents are mostly Italians and Jews who don’t fuck around. When you combine them with the oppressed ‘non white minorities’, events are likely to get heated. In New York, everyone is talking with liberal doses of profanity. No one respects the police anymore. Each week more and more are getting assaulted and killed. Why? Because most of the new cops are 18 year old lads from Long Island and other wimpy suburbanites. It is coming to the point that the police are afraid of the people. Two years ago it was different. As more and more people have gotten arrested by the cops, their patience is starting to erode.
By the way, there is a new police commissioner. Bratton left because Guiliani became jealous of him. Two bullies will form an alliance to beat the weaker members of the school yard. Due to arrogance, the alliance is brief because the yard is not large enough for two bullies. The new commish is Safir. He had been the Fire commish prior. Safir has never walked a beat as a cop before but he is Guiliani’s friend. The reality is that Rudy is the new police commissioner.
Rudy plans to lay off 3,000 cops. He has fucked up now. The head of the PBA(the so- called police union) have announced that they had made a mistake backing Guiliani and will never do so again. Rudy has lost his only friends and his re-election is not happening.
When Metropolis burns this summer due to social unrest and Guiliani’s removal of fire alarm call boxes, he will have no one else to scapegoat. Hopefully, people will hang him from his heels as what was done to Mussolini.
I am flying around looking down at the Earth. I am disturbed by what I observe. Each time I descend to get a closer look, I am aghast from I see.
I am 30 miles from the Upper west Side. I am one mile outside the city limits of Metropolis currently sitting on a boardwalk bench in Atlantic Beach. Atlantic Beach is an island within the jurisdiction of Nassau County. Good thing that I do not want to go on the beach or take a dip in the Ocean. For if I wanted to do so, that would be in violation of the law. Atlantic Beach’s seaside access is limited to those who are members of the several private ‘beach clubs’.
This is part of the island which shares Long Beach. The home of Senator Al D’Mato. So far, Italians are the darkest people I have seen on the beaches. Those of us whose more recent ancestors came from southern latitudes are only to be found on the boardwalk. Technically, the boardwalk is only to be used by residents or members of Atlantic Beach. If anyone questions me, I’ll simply tell them that I paid the five cent toll over the bridge.
Apartheid in New York. Long Island has never impressed me. Still, for $1.50, I was able to take the subway to the city limits on the seaside and relax for a few hours. There is not a doubt in my mind that this is the premiere Metropolis in the world.
Above and behind are the jets flying into JFK. Most have been TWA planes. About 50 miles east of here was where Flight 800 exploded and fell. A late afternoon breeze is blowing off the Atlantic.
I did something new today! I had never been to Atlantic Beach before. In fact, I never knew it existed. I needed to see someplace new with different faces. New and strange sights and not the familiar patterns and places too often repetitiously seen.
‘Welcome to New York Guiliani Airport. Thank you for riding Consolidated United States Airlines. THERE’S ONLY ONE. We hope you enjoy your stay in New York or where ever your authorised destination may be.’ That was the voice of a mechanised cabin computer on the public address system on CUSA Flight 1111. The aircraft used for Flight 1111 was the Boeing-McDonnell-GE 666 aka the Flying Big Macg.(The G is silent as the engines manufactured by General Electric.)
Chris was among 159 passengers on board the flight from Chicago Daley. He along with the passengers patiently waited for ‘Log Off’ sign to flash from ‘Log On’. When the sign changed, Chris obliged and searched his packet for his Passdisk.
Chris had waited three months to receive his Passdisk. Normally, the procedure for obtaining a Passdisk entailed six months minimum on the waiting list. He was fortunate enough to have been born in New York to jump ahead of the queue. The only snag in red tape was his life insurance. Chris had Northwestern. Five years after the Great Metropolis War, diplomatic relations were tense and chilled between New York Metropolitan and Northwestern. Nonetheless, Chris’ difficulties were few compared to what others had to go through. Upon disembarking from the aircraft, the passengers walked through a Byzantine Labyrinth before reaching Immigration.
Chris remembered the days of youth when this airport was named after Mayor Fiorello H. LaGuardia. He remembered when JFK Airport was the only airport in New York City to have immigration controls. And that was only for International flights. Today, it was a military detention Base.
A member of NYPD’s Immigration Squad snatched the Passdisk out of Chris’ hands. The officer turned the disk around in his hands sharply scrutinising it.
‘Is this your Disk?’ The officer asked.
It was a ridiculous question to Chris. Of course it was his. Even if it were not his, would he say otherwise?
‘Yes Sir it is mine!’
‘Where did you get this?’ The officer barked in a Nassau County accent.
‘At the Emigration Office. Daley Center in Chicago.’ Chris answered methodically and in robotics patterns.
The New York City Police Department Immigration Officer gave a brutal contemptuous stare at Chris. After that he inserted the disk into the computer. The disk was scanned to detect the slightest detail of forgery. The Passdisk passed scrutiny. All of Chris’ vital statistics and his life’s patterns had all been recorded and open for inspection.
‘Oh! You were born in New York!’ The officer’s tone brightened. ‘Welcome home! This is the first time you have been back in 25 years, huh?’
‘Yes Sir! I am looking forward to seeing my home town after all these years.’ Chris replied his earnest passion.
In this age of enlightenment in reverse when the collective memory has been disconnected, one really wonders if they are in a cartoon. Two years ago I first noted how the residents of my fair city have looked more like characters out of comic illustrations. Recently, a friend commented how he watched the Olympics in Atlanta on television and thought he was watching cartoons.
Depending where one’s technological perception is, the view seems to vacillate between surreality and virtual reality. In other words, from the bizarre to the absurd. Everywhere I go on this Island of Many Hills, the bombardment of our deficient consciousness is all around. What is most startling is the technique to reduce consciousness to its most redundant.
An example of this are bills for the Imax production: ‘New York In 3-D.’ Essentially, people are convinced to pay $9 to sit in a cinema and put on goggles simply to experience the city in so-called 3-D. Question. Why would I pay nearly $10 to see New York indoors when I can simply take a stroll through Manhattan and see the real New York in all three dimensions for free?
From the economic consumerist standpoint, it makes no sense let alone common sense. From the economic supplier side it an outrageous swindle. For that reason, I cannot hardly point a finger of blame to them. It simply proves how artificial economic ‘laws’ really are. No, I place the blame squarely on the consumers who buy into it. What is surreal, is the fact that people travel in reality to virtual reality to experience three dimensions.
This is the comic reality of this lamentable period in history. A repeat of the dark ages when wizards were the visionaries of society. When occurrences of natural phenomena were passed off as mystical. What makes our contemporary age worse and more corrupt, is that our own perceptions both imaginary and real, which we can comprehend ourselves, are packaged and re-sold to us as new and improved.
I am envious. If only had I came up with this brilliant sketch of comedy first! Wasn’t that the original concept behind comics and cartoons? Was that why members of older generations labelled such things as funnies? Maybe I should not critique these events by pointing out their absurdities. Perhaps I should just sit back and enjoy this first rate performance. However, I must be sober some times because the actors do not realise the gravity of their performance. I should at least let people know how they look from the outside. More importantly, to intervene and let them know that they have choices with their perception. The mass scale of humans losing their independent thought is alarming. It is terrifying that some are not just losing but surrendering their independent thoughts.
I am the most ardent advocate of electricity. Still, I do not need to plug into a socket for an outside source. Self generation is more practical, not to mention economical. Sometimes I do like to plug into outside sources for extrasensory stimulation but when overload is impending, it is time to disconnect. In this paradoxical time, the need to connect the dots to see the complete image is the way to disconnect altogether. Maybe I am on too much reality and need a dose of virtue.
A meteor crashes on WehrSol knocking three miles of rails out of service. A subway derails in Metropolis. An incompetent display of physical force.
Another victory against The Nebulans. After their foul and mean spirited display, I had vowed revenge against them. The battle consisted of virtual reality, NBC, Soulslinger, the Zimmerman Telegram and Fish.
I had found myself standing outside a cafe on the Lower East Side looking for something to do. I encountered Soulslinger and asked what he was up to. Soulslinger told me that he was playing at a party up the block. I followed him and entered a place with curved booths with NBC logos all around. In front of each chair were computer terminals with headphones. Soulslinger sat inside a booth. We looked at a computer diagram of the establishment. All was marked in its place.
A television anchorwoman appeared. ‘Welcome to Real Life!’ She exclaimed. ‘Put on your headphones! It’s time to get connected!’
Soulslinger and I looked at one another with serious confidence. I was initially apprehensive but I reluctantly accepted the virtual reality challenge.
I was no longer in my surroundings. We went around the world in a live telecast. Feelings of excitement were generated through music and the hyped pitch of the Anchorwoman.
Suddenly I found myself in space. It felt as if I were in a scene of Star Wars. This reality had taken over my logical autonomous perception. I was cast as Darth Vader. I felt annoyed, then angered and finally enraged. On the screen, I saw how the images were manipulating me. I realised that it was simply a video game. I took the controls and projected myself as a self controlled character. I fought the images which were manipulating me. The other characters started to scream and told me what I did was unfair.
My hand to eye co-ordination elevated my accuracy as a champion video game player which had not existed since my childhood. One by one, I eliminated my opponents as they blinked out of existence. I then began to destroy the entire scene all around me in the programme which caused an overload.
I was back to my own reality. The room was in charred ruins. The computer monitors and consoles were burnt out. The NBC tiles laid scattered across the floor. I exited through a door and found myself in the hallway of a building I lived in during childhood. I felt fear and the desire to leave the building. I pushed the call button for the elevator. The lift passed my floor and I raced down the stairs.
Puerto Ricans were having a picnic in the lobby. I bolted out of the building and ran up the hill. I realised that I was wearing the Darth Vader mask. Fish called after me. I threw away the mask and ran. Fish ran after me. He caught up to me in the middle of the Grand Concourse. He congratulated me for breaking the Zimmerman Telegram. We conversed in German. Fish told me the root of Zim. We were happy to see each other. A feeling of victory swelled over us as we looked to the setting sun.
So the Nebulans thought that they could trap me through virtual reality. Once again they misinterpreted my dislikes for fears. They attacked me using digital imagery. For the past 15 years I have been well versed in digital technology. My dislike of it is not due to ignorance but from thorough comprehension.
This is the way I formulate my likes and dislikes. The Nebulans continue time again and again to underestimate me. This confirms my assessment of the deficiency of the intelligence as well as the in-competency of my foes. The sun is setting on their ability to control.
Vaginal fluid or Blood? Which tastes best? It depends on the woman and her diet. Blood from Black and Blondes taste best. Vaginal fluid from Redheads tastes best. Redhead labia and vulva’s taste like the sweetest lush Sugarplums. German and Irish blood is the most nutritious. German stock produces a light headed euphoria while consuming. Black Irish blood stock produces hallucinatory effects.
Body fluids exchanged with Black haired women are raw. Strawberry Blondes taste like candy in blood and vaginal fluids. The best place to extract blood orally from blondes is from the inner thighs next to the pubic area. Black women are best for extracting the blood orally from their partners creating orgasmic release. For Red and Strawberry Blondes, drinking their menstrual discharge directly from their vulvas adds sweetness in flavour and gives these women multiple climaxes.
As for women with brown hair, conventional fellatio, cunnilingus and intercourse suffice. Brown-hair women are not exciting partners in inter-gender recreation. Irish and German women are the strongest sexually.
We saw each other and stopped. She stunned me in her appearance. Her hair was jet black. Her eyes a deep indigo and her skin was milk white. I was hypnotised. She looked at me directly from her eyes. They were excited.
‘Do I know you?’ The woman asked hesitantly.
‘You can if you want to.’ I replied.
My penis erected into a Skyblock quickly. She was wearing black denim cut off shorts. Her firm thighs and legs were prominently featured. I wanted to eat them. She was wearing a plain black T-shirt. Her neck throbbed. Her blood was thick and strong. I wanted her vitality in me.
‘You can call me Katie.’ She heaved and sighed.
We walked towards the park by the river. Each stride quickened our pace. Our electrical circuits connected. We arrived. We stepped close together. My hands swung upon her buttocks. Her hands grabbed the skin of my hips underneath my button down shirt. As I looked into her eyes, a bolt of electrical sparks shot out of my eyes. My hands squeezed her rear flesh. Our tongues met and wrapped around each other.
Katie thrust her pelvis into mine. We extracted and consumed one another’s energy. Physical friction increased as we moved vertically. My physical vitality increased as I lifted her body. Katie was losing her strength and wrapped her legs around my waist and locked her calves across my back. Her hands started to lose their grip from my shoulders.
We floated to the ground. Our lips unlocked as we stared into each other’s eyes. I saw her soul, her core energy. It read: ‘Desire and consume’. Slowly I lifted and slid her t shirt off. Her breasts appeared as icebergs in a night sea. Katie gasped and her body arched up into me. My lips surrounded her left nipple. My teeth slowly nibbled the rubbery flesh. My tongue circled the tips as my finger rubbed her right nipple. The electricity voltage increased until Katie hissed.
My head moved down to her right ankle. My mouth, teeth and tongue navigated a course around the ankles, the thighs right up to where her cut off denim began. I unbutton her trousers. White underwear with red roses were revealed. With my teeth on the elastic band, I pulled off her underwear. A mass of black forest conceals her inner sanctum. My tongue circled her clitoris for ten minutes. Then I began to lick the lips of her labia. Before my eyes, I saw the black forest of pubic hair change shape and a reddish pink formation appeared. Katie opened her inner sanctum.
I kissed her entrance. My tongue explored the inner atrium of her sanctum. Her sanctum became moist producing a sweet odour as she discharged fluids. Katie went into convulsions. I wrap her body with my left arm to stabilise her.
I went to her inner thighs as my teeth cut an incision into her flesh. Thick purple blood flowed out and my tongue directed it down my throat. A stream of white fluid streaked out of Katie’s sanctum. Her body tightened, shook and slowly became immobilised. I inserted my thumbs inside her to see if she was sufficiently marinated and if the vibrations were occurring. She was.
My penis entered her sanctum. Her scantum kissed it. A steady rhythm started and our circuitry completed. It took hours until Kate and I had reached our unified pace and metamorphosed into a single rapid kinetic electric organism.
Katie was warm and we fitted each other’s physical size. The friction sped up and I felt the need to spark. My penis was the electrical conductor. I discharged into Katie such a powerful force that jolted us one foot off the ground.
I released myself into Katie. My white fluids slowly dissolved into her sanctum as suds from a bubble bath dissolve down a drain. Katie pushed me upon my back. She cleaned my penis with her tongue. Katie discovered that I did not give all of myself. With methodical thoroughness, her mouth, teeth and tongue extracted the remaining fluids from my penis.
Katie straddled me and slid her inner sanctum upon my penis. I pulled her down towards me. She yanked backwards pulling me up until I was on top of her on her back. I yanked back until she was on top of me upon my back. We repeated this method back and forth for another quarter hour.
When we finished, we dressed each other. Katie put her underwear on me. ‘So that you will never forget me.’ A final interlocking of tongues for ten minutes. Katie and I parted ways.
I awoke the next day wearing Katie’s underwear. They were soaked and soiled from my nocturnal discharges. I took off the underwear and hung it upon my closet. I decided never to wash it as a permanent souvenir of my encounter in Katie. I wanted to see her again. If only I had asked for her number!
The front door unlocked. It was Kim. She wore her KMFDM shirt which had a wood cut graphic of a couple in coitus. She wore a red plaid skirt cut off at her thighs. Fishnet stockings wrapped tautly around her legs and thighs. She sported 19 hole Doc Martin boots which stretched up to below her knees.
I ran towards her and leapt into the air hissing. Kim anticipated this and caught me in mid air. She slammed me onto the floor with the thrust of her body and pinned me. I felt her teeth tear the skin around my neck. After initial pain, I grew an erection as Kim consumed my blood. A soothing paralysis overtook me as she sucked my testosterone pumped blood.
‘You went drinking last night didn’t you!’ Kim said.
She continued to drink. I felt excited and my strength returned. With the force of my penis, I lifted Kim and assume the top position. I stuck my tongue inside her mouth and bite her tongue. Warm salty fluid filled our mouths cavities. I swallowed two gulps. My right hand slid up her fishnet stockings under her skirt. No underwear. I slipped my fingers inside her.
Kim muffled a groan. I unlocked my mouth. I looked into her pale green eyes and stroked her red hair. Her hair was shaved closely from the middle down. The top was long and grew down as bangs. Kim smiled at me.
‘You were well fed. Your strength is high.’ She kissed me as I got off her.
She got up and planted the tip of her steel toed boot into my testicles. I cringed, lost my balance and fell onto the floor. Kim hopped down next to me.
‘Poor baby. Do your balls hurt?’ Her tone was mocking and cruel. Her head went to my penis. Her tongue massaged my scrotum. After a while it was in her entire mouth while she firmly but smoothly sucked until a stream of clear semen trickled out of my penis. I sat up and grabbed her left leg and began to lick her boot. After a few licks I asked: ‘What did you do last night?’
‘I went to The Cave. There was some bald white executive there. Don’t what the fuck he was doing there. I seduced him into taking a taxi with me. I finished him off and ran out. I walked down the high. I hate white guys!’ Kim scowled and snorted.
On the back of Kim’s KMFDM shirt had the text: ‘BLACK MAN WHITE WOMEN RIP THE SYSTEM!’
Kim is my bedmate in Metropolis. She is a succubis from Dusseldorf, Germany. She looks on 22 but claims to be at least 122 years old. We had met in Boston four years prior. She tried to kill me back then but was not strong enough to do so. Once she came very close to killing me but she stopped. The next attempt backfired and I nearly sucked the life out of her. Since then, we have been in a sexual tug of war. Each of us being unable to decisively win.
Kim walked into the bedroom and undressed.
‘Funky underwear!’ Kim said upon discovering the latest addition to my wardrobe.
‘You can wear it if you want to. As long as you don’t wash it!’ I said.
‘No thank you!’ Kim replied.
I went into the bedroom. Her body had not changed in four years. Hell it hadn’t changed in over one hundred years! One thing that did change was her complexion. When we met her skin was as white as the paper I write on. Now her complexion has darkened slightly. She is still white (she is an Aryan after all) but not as pale as before. Enough of my flesh and blood changed that.
‘I’m tired.’ Kim yawned. ‘I’m going to sleep. Can I play with your cock while I fall asleep?’
I laid down next to her. Her right hand caressed me until her palms rested motionless. I got up and took a stroll through Central Park.
Two hours later I returned. Kim was asleep with a black dildo inside her. I climbed into bed and manipulated the dildo by twisting and pushing it inside. Her head turned slowly in her sleep. Her body stirred. I shoved the dildo out and in.
‘MMMM.’ Kim softly murmured.
My hand moved in quick jerky gestures. A soft sigh escaped her mouth. Small bubbles of saliva foam on her lips. Her hands reached and touched mine. Her eyes opened. I bite her on her mons and extract blood. She climaxed indicated by the sudden sweetness in her plasma and quickness of breath.
I got off her twitching body and took a piss. Afterwards, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a can of Pilsner. In the living room I sat on the sofa and read the mail Kim had already opened. When she first opened my mail I was furious and had a severe go at her. She continued to open my mail nonetheless. The angrier I became the more intent she would wanted to do so. Eventually, I stopped caring. After all, there was really no harm. Kim was a secretive, annoying and downright impossible but she was honest.
Life has come to a grinding halt. The pace of everything has slowed to a crawl. Despair has replaced enthusiasm while death has become more exciting than life. What a wretched state of affairs! I have a strong dislike for slow movement. It must be rapid transit or nothing at all. At the pace I am going, I may have not bothered in the first place. I believe in fast and steady rather than slow and teetering.
Everything seems to happen in slow motion film, nay dream.
These are trying times. Are the gods listening to me? Hello out there! This is your cheeky messenger Meort! I need your help now. I help you beings most of the time, now I need you to serve me. After all, if I am not well, your purpose will not manifest. Unless of course, it is your desire to discard and replace me. If I have been given the sack, can we negotiate to get back onto your good side? What do you reckon? Please respond if you want to. Do you hear me? Do you care?
Metropolis is back to normal pace that I am used to. Prospects are good for the city. It has not abandoned me nor have I abandoned it. This is my home and we need each other. The city has been crumbling for years so this is nothing new. Metropolis wouldn’t be Metropolis if it weren’t for the manic, schizophrenic, thumbing of authority, free for all city that it is characteristic of being. I love it.
Kim has left for now but she will be back. I won this recent battle. The war for my sex is far from over. We will miss each other and we will start to fuck each other again. I must admit Kim is the most sexually gratifying. Scorpio’s have incredible sexual prowess. Kim is a sweet cheery cake and quite addictive too. She is addicted to my chocolate bar. Who knows how long before one of us dies from an overdose of each other’s sweetness.
Today, the WehrSolians and the Humanists have officially split. What is wrong with human beings? Why are they so selfish and need to control others? Is cooperation and assistance really so offensive?
I bring these questions up after last night’s debate with the Humanists. After I explained how important it is to work with many different people who share the same objectives but interpret and go about obtaining on different fronts, the Humanists insisted that was not possible. That thinking so was selfish.
Everybody wants to change the world according their a single model. There is no single model but rather many that all have legitimacy. Since this is obvious, I wish to assist with all the models. No, this is not allowed. From ‘You’re either with us or against us’ to ‘All or nothing’ for if one is committed to change, one must be so to one ideology only.
However, one can see in reality how impractical it really is. Two years ago, I hitchhiked across the country. I didn’t expect a car to take us directly back to Metropolis. Instead, I found various vehicles on the way towards my final destination. Each ride brought me closer. Had I insisted only to wait for one vehicle non-stop to Metropolis, it would have taken much longer or would not have happened altogether. True, it would have been convenient to have had a direct mode of transport but the single most direct route does not always exist.
Recently, I complained about how slow events were moving and the tedious twisted and roundabout route I had been following. Time is on my side. The details may seem to slow me down only because there are many of them. Still, I go through each detail quickly despite the abundance of them. Instead of cursing the details, I should enjoy them as nourishment which is needed to accomplish my tasks.
The small and numerous rivets support the skeletal girders which support the entire structure of a building. Without the small rivets, a building cannot be erected and remain standing. This is what I am doing. I am building a path to the top floor. Once all is completed, then I can ride the express lift up and down. Then I can land and take off from the top of the building.
What is the point of having a hollow structure if it is only to admire from afar? I am not building exclusively for myself. How wretched to have a large and tall building in solitude! No, I want others to use it so that the building does not remain hollow. Life was manifested creatively in the building so that it could attract life to sustain it.
A new season is before me with new experiences, tales, dramas, comedies, tragedies, insight, wisdom, foolishness and the absurd. There will be new people entering, old people leaving and others will still be around. Regardless, we will have new experiences together as we all try to make sense and give meaning to ourselves and each other.
I am not alone. There is no reason to feel alienated from those I love and esteem. I have met my heart and have made friends with it. My heart, like the sun, will always be with me. All I have to do is listen to it and allow it occasionally to over rule my mind, when necessary. I love myself. Because I love myself, I can love others and when that happens, I can expect love to find me. For I am ready to be loved without the illusions.
As I close this latest chronicle, I experience hope and joy. I have understood all that has happened this year. I was not always right, fair, nor brilliant but I can accept those things. It is time now to go on to the next level. I cannot say what the next level I will encounter, though I am sure that love will be the leitmotif. I have just received clearance to climb another 10,000 feet, although there are no limits at home.


“I got a right to be out of my mind.
I got a right to be who I am.
Love me. Love my problems.
Good Times and the Rotten.”
-David Byrne

Sadness, desolation and barrenness is everywhere. There are only two more months left of the last remains of freedom in NYC. I don’t know how but that cockroach Ghouliani may very well win re-election. Last year, that seemed unthinkable. Yet somehow he has managed to hoodwink the public. He has succeeded with thought control. The crafty manipulation of the country’s number one concern: crime. People want to exchange their freedoms for a police state. They would rather exchange housing for malls. Exchange dirt for Disney.
Amerikkka Inc. has found its new capital. The genocide is about to commence. Good bye gay and lesbians. Take one look at your last generation. Goodbye racial integration. Goodbye freedom of association. Goodbye to democracy. Hello Big Brother. Hello surveillance cameras. Hello identification check points. Hello search and seizure without notice. Hello two Americas: Black America to the south. White America in the north. Hello slavery.
This is the future of America. Did this country not learn a damn thing over the past 30 years? The answer apparently is no.
Racism is here to stay in the good ol USA. Blacks want to re-segregate. Whites are more than happy to facilitate. Sexism. Sure women can get decent jobs as long as they put out. Gays and lesbians out of the closet. Fine, as long as they do not actually have sex. Freedom of religion. Better yet, let Christianity become the official religion. (In NYC: Judaism. Orthodox Zionism only.) Muslims should get out, go to prison or be killed. The last choice is preferable.
The Police. Every true American’s best friend. For the past 25+ years, whenever an incident of police terror (in PC double-speak: misconduct, excessive force, heavy handed) becomes public, the same refrain is repeated: There are only a few bad apples. These are only isolated events. An aberration. The police do not exist to protect the peace. They exist to protect the power elite.
Crime. The argument goes that without the police, crime would get out of hand. The foundations of crime? According to the average person: human nature. One can trace the notion of human nature to Hobbes. Using that model, the police and courts are in place to ensure the social contract. Without these two virtuous entities, humans would regress back to their natural state of barbaric violence.
The truth of the matter is that most modern crime can be traced to modern capitalism. When people are pushed off the land where they had lived and have been told to live like the wealthy, they will behave that way. The power elite became so through thievery and murder. Those whom they tried to impress took notice and emulated what their betters taught them. The European take-over of these two contents would today constitute as capital felonies. When you place millions of people in cages, denying them jobs and money, which supposedly make this a great country, they you witness appropriate behaviour.
Tomorrow, a few hundred people below Chambers Street will commit grand larceny. If they steal a King’s ransom the lawmakers and news media will nod and applaud. Above 96th Street, a 16 year old will steal $20 dollars worth of merchandise. The lawmakers will want to try the lad as an adult and lock him away at Riker’s Island for a few years. The media will tsk, tsk, deploring the savage animal for his un-American ways, as they print his picture on the front page revealing his address for all to read. Print the address of the residence belonging to the President of Chase Manhattan Bank? Sure, unless one has millions to waste defending a lawsuit brought against.
This is a sick and dying country, Call me un-American. Call me a rat but I’m jumping off this sinking ship. The question remains: Where can I go? Europe? With fascism in Spain, France, Italy, Belgium, Austria and the Balkans, I would find myself having jumped into the fire form the frying pan. Latin America? Each Latin American country is third world. Third World countries are police states. Asia? That is better, although China remains a problem. Last month, I heard a former Reagan Administration ‘expert of China’ on the radio. He said that China was moving away from a communist state to a fascist state. The ‘expert’ noted that this was a good thing. The countries in Asia tend to gravitate towards authoritarianism. A visit could not hurt. Australia? Yes. although, most white Australians are hard-core racists, I want to meet and live with the Aborigines. Their claims of space and time travel beckon me. As it stands, Australia seems the best place to rendezvous with the WehrSolians.
Africa? Yes. PG2M are definitely on to something. That is the source of humanity. Africa is calling me. Like most Blacks of the Diaspora, I held the content in low esteem. We are all Africans. Not only is it important for Blacks, it is important for Europeans, Asians and Native Americans to realise that their original roots are in Africa. There is no official history of Africa outside of Anthropology/Archaeology. In NYC, the most extensive history can be found at the American Museum of Natural History. 6 billion people do not know their own history. All conscious humankind does not know its origins.
I had the opportunity to live as a vampire with all the sex with women I wanted. I could’ve have been the most powerful and richest man east of the Mississippi River. I turned that down because I would not have found happiness nor would I have found freedom.
‘This is the crisis I knew had to come disturbing the balance I kept.’-Joy Division
Should I surrender all hope of the future? Two choices nay three:
1) Check into Bellevue.
2)Surrender to the New England Vampire Klan
All three choices are grim. The last two are virtually the same end. The first choice is a gasp for help. In Bellevue, ignorant and indifferent psychos will pump drugs into me. I would leave in a state more fucked up than entered. Sure, then I would become a wide shit eating grinning member of the Mickey Mouse Club. Another though clone like everyone else. King of New England? Being a vampire with money and prestige as all of its women kneel and suck my dick. That would get boring after while. Suicide? What better way to exemplify the nothingness underlining my life. Just another loser. Good riddance. Regardless I can’t win.
I should be more intelligent. There are more options than those presented by the cursed Nebulans.
Religion: It is odd how Black Americans are the most religious people in the country. Most of their ardent loyalties are split between Christianity and Islam. How little these devout know or understand the history of either religion and the roles played in Black Americans displacement. The colonisation and enslavement of Africa was led and justified under the cross. The slave trade financed under the sword of Allah’s Islam.
True, the civil rights movement was in large part led by religious leaders from Dr. King’s Southern Christian Leadership Conference to Malcolm X’s Nation of Islam. However, an examination today of both groups legacy reveals a sad story. Andrew Young went into partnership with the southern Nazi’s to bring the 1996 Summer Olympics to Atlanta, turning that city into a fascist state. Jesse Jackson had his chance. Instead he abandoned his principles for power and leadership of the Democratic Party, which deserted him in the end, anyway.
Nation of Islam? A Black fascist organisation with a hypocritical leader only interested in his follower’s money. What a scene two years ago at the Million Man March. Louis Farrakan deftly had all 750,000 participants wave one dollar notes in front of him. What a smile on Mr. Farrakkan’s face and why not? If people waved $750,000 dollars before me, resisting a smirk would be difficult.
At the end, it is all about money. It is consistent with the evolution of blacks and religion. The cross, the Bible, the Quran were brought to Africa so that money could be made off the populace. Hundred’s of years later, the subjects finally understood what is really behind salvation: Capitalism.
The American Dream: Private Property. Ownership of land, materials, people and animals if you are a grown man. Being owned if you are a grown woman or child by a grown man. However, that is too bluntly honest in today’s PC doublespeak. Ownership of land translates into square footage of dirt. The hidden joke is that one really doesn’t own the land. Why? Because one must pay taxes to the local nobles of that fiefdom. Today’s nobles are the county or municipal officials. Materials owned are the wood and cement on that property. The rubber, steel, glass, and fibreglass of the car. The people are the wife and children. The animals are cats, dogs or other domesticated living creatures. Each house address on Main Street, USA is a hallucination station.
Culturally, I am sick. I am ill. Why? I do not want the American Dream. No marriage, no kids, no property. No thank you.
There is no humanity left. I question if there was ever in the first place. Perhaps before I was born. Though, I do suspect that what little may existed was selective.
come to me and kiss goodbye
be yourself and never lie
existence cannot work it
life chances are calculated
more and more comes the lance
further and distant is thy curse
nearer to the end of mist
case dropped free to go
let the words come
fall may they will
don’t think don’t bother
let all flow and go
release the thoughts
why calculate what is not known
unless one wants to invent truth
oh well who cares
Understatement: There is something wrong with me. Something got to me in Boston. A demon of sort. A vampiric demon entity bringing hatred within and without. If anything I learned from Boston was this: No more sex with vampires or spiders.
My long term agenda has not changed. It’s just not as dire as before. I still await the reply form the WehrSolians. I will not surrender control of my city yet. Ghouliani does not know who he is fucking with. I fought The Nebulans in Atlanta and Boston. Now, I need to kill the Ghouliani within myself. The key ingredient is not to hate Italians.
These are the days of rapid unexpected change. NYC needs a shake-up. The news media predicts a landslide victory for Il Douce II. I think the next two months will prove otherwise.
Coming up on the subway, I realised how many people are under thought control. Things have reached epidemic proportions. I wanted to shout and berate them. Yet, I knew that they would just perceive me as another crazy on the subway.
‘Thought Control? What on Earth is he talking about?’
Their minds were too blocked to try telepathy. I was on a train packed with drones. They will be sorry. No they won’t. They don’t realise they are being used. They probably never will. What did Trent Reznor call it? ‘Happiness in Slavery’. George Orwell: ‘Slavery is Freedom’. What can I do? Nothing much, A few people have listened. A few more will listen. Some listened but didn’t learn.
What happened to the 1990’s? The decade started off promising. By 1992, there seemed to be a resurgent resistance against fascism. In 1994, it looked as if were going to win. Then all collapsed at the end of that year.
Summer 1997: ‘There is all intolerance and hatred. Just the way Big Brother wanted.’-Finnegan Begin Again.
Most of the country is in denial. Fascism?
‘We are a long way from that.’
‘I cringe whenever anyone accuses an American politician of being a fascist!’
Oh no? Pat Buchannan, David Duke, Rudy Guiliani; are they not fascists?
The fatal mistake the naysayers make is this: Of course the current crop of these fuckers are not going to repeat the errors of Mussolini, Hitler and Stalin. The new ones are way too clever for that. If they followed the old track, their hopes and plans would be met with pierce opposition. Nay, in the 1990’s, corporate fascism is the method. What did Consolidated say in 1991? ‘Friendly Fa$cism’.
Everyone is looking at the 1920’s and 1930’s. Old news. Television and other forms of mass media were not in the equation. There wasn’t Disney, Ted Turner. Those things in the 1930’s would have been a Goebbels wet dream. Todays banks are consolidating as are telecommunications. Within ten years, all corporate America will be exactly that and more: oneness. No one wants to believe. People close their eyes.
‘As we watch (them) digging (their) own graves. It was important to know that was where (they’re) at. (They’ll) keep on digging to the center of Earth(Hell)’
-Talking Heads 1980, modified in 1997
Believe it or not, the core problem is the meaning of freedom. Here are some definitions of Freedom in the 1990’s:
‘Freedom means obeying lawful authority.’-Rudy Guiliani speech commemorating Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Jan. 15 1994
‘Freedom Party’-Name of neo-Nazi party in Austria.
The concept of Freedom as a political ideology did not exist prior to the 18th Century. Freedom, perhaps is the most played out word of the 20th Century. This is not surprising given the hand in hand rise of words like ‘relativity’ and ‘universality’.
Moralists insist that there is no such thing as freedom. frighteningly enough, they just might have a point. The concept of freedom seems to have had many amendments attached to it. No shit! Just like the US Constitution: The document of absolute universal freedom.
Analysis: The Boston vampire saga has yet to end. They are trying to lure with a black girl. The red girls failed miserably. The New England Clan can tempt me all they want but I am never going back to Boston.
I need to be careful. The Nebulans know I am black and red. Now that I am interested in black women, they may dispatch one to seduce me. However, I will be ready since I know which one to expect. The negative effects of losing my virginity in Boston.
Just saw the most disturbing advert on television. It was a political ad by Guiliani. It had two Democrats endorsing the fascist. One was a Black City Councilwoman from East New York, the poorest district of the city. She’s endorsing Guiliani because he plans to develop her district. I can’t believe it! I wonder how much money she’s received?
Development? Sure, that means malls in the ghetto. The premise is that malls mean revenue and jobs. New housing developments which probably no one in East New York can afford. Middle class white yuppies will move into the area soon. Sounds like a nightmare. Upon closer examination reveals the following:
More consumerism for useless and unhealthy products. Minimum wage jobs for the few people in the area with good credit. The new workers will not earn enough to afford to live in the new middle class housing developments. Gentrification of the neighbourhood.
Negative integration: whites in, Blacks out. Where will Blacks go? If Guiliani and this Councilwoman have their way, it means upstate to prison. The end of the ad displayed the black bitch hugging Il Deuce II on the platform, while he looks directly into the camera.
Black America is doomed. No, Whitey is not completely at fault. It’s the Black political establishment undermining the race. From Andrew Young to Clarence Thomas to this Black whore from East New York. That is exactly what she is: A low-down filthy scabby harlot whore!
When will they finally get it? It was capitalism and money that brought Blacks as slaves here. It was the same ingredients that produced segregation and unemployment. They will do anything for money. Sell their principles, families, communities and ultimately their own souls for fucking money. This is why Black America is going to get exterminated. The extermination will be led by moneyed Blacks. When most Blacks are gone, those left will have no choice except to become pets of the white power establishment. The new slave scheme will consist of Blacks performing and keeping the company of fascists.
I saw it in Boston. The Blacks up there are so oppressed that in order to placate whites, they want to be their pets. I saw Blacks crossing Mass. Avenue making monkey sounds in front of a crowd of whites. I saw another Black musician performing on the platform of the Harvard Square T station. I observed how the whites smiled at him paternalistically. He grinned back at them for the sake of their love, kindness and money.
Black America R.I.P. 1997
I scoff at the idiots who call me an Uncle Tom! Never will I let myself become someone’s pet. Never will I sell my soul for money. Never will I enslave blacks nor anybody else. Never will I perform and act as a source for anyone’s amusement. Never will I compromise myself for the sake of being loved by people who hate me.
Yes, I still believe in integration, justice and equality for all. However, I believe in education and knowledge. I believe first in self respect, then in respect for all people worthy of it. Unfortunately, none of this can ever occur in the United States. The show has drawn its final curtain. Game over.
How did I end up becoming a foe of society? I believe the answer is that society became my foe.
Something went down in the city today. In Times Square, there were four fire engines parked in the intersection obstructing traffic. Then I saw the same thing down in Battery Park. Later on, Allen Street between Stanton and Houston was cordoned off by the police. There were NYNEX, guess again, Bell Atlantic utility vehicles. Then up at St. Luke’s Hospital, more fire engines. I think Guiliani was up to something today. He is preparing himself for total rule if wins re-election.
An open lesbian progressive politician from the Lower East Side running for the City Council was reported to have lost the Primary by 150 votes. In actuality, she won by that amount. She is bringing in the Feds to sustain her victory. Fraud. I bet the same will happen during the general election. Guiliani will seemed to have sneaked into re-election. The Feds will have to intervene. Who do the Nebulans think they’re kidding?
A bad day for social interaction. A Hispanic tour guide at Double Decker Tours is a fascist. Of course, like all the rest these days, he denies it. I see thought control everywhere. It has seeped inside everything and everywhere. My grandmother is not immune either. I warned her about the coming surveillance cameras.
‘Why do they want to watch me? I don’t care, I’m not doing anything that I do not want people to see!’ My grandmother replied. Most people really like Disney and think it is harmless.
Time to go! Time to go! Time to go! Save my money. Go to Australia. Learn Chinese. Get an education. Move to Africa with all my friends and loved ones who know when its time to go.
I am in Drip drinking an after work beer. Melrose Place is on television. I will finish my beer and get the hell out of here.
when you are black you are oppressed
when you are white you are repressed
If slavery were to come back, sexual pleasure would be top priority. Most white women would rush out to buy sex slaves. The darker complexioned with the largest cocks would be priced highest. The offspring would be sold to white men or women for sex. Blacks would be reduced to pleasure flesh. Black male genitalia would be genetically cloned for fresh dildo’s.
I mostly fuck for the pussy. Either way sex is sex. I fuck to CUM not to CONCEIVE!
Hmm. Been feeling cool for the first time in years. Balance and harmony. Relaxation without worry. No need for anger or bitterness. Not today. The moment at last. Amen!
I know an interesting character named Sabu. Sabu is an older gentleman in his mid 60’s who is a jazz musician and artist. He claims to have known Malcolm X personally. Many Black artists in New York over 60 knew Malcolm X. Sabu is a classic character who always buys drinks for me whenever we run into each other down in the Lower East Side.
Sabu was right on target when he said that American Blacks are sheep incapable of independent thought. According to him, Black Americans will only listen to men with white collars around their neck and a big car to find the truth. Unless advice comes from a ‘religious man’, Blacks will ignore it.
What brings up this topic? 40(!!!) black ‘leaders’ have endorsed Ghouliani for re-election. If I were not in here in the city as witness, I would’ve laughed. It’s true. This is straight out of some horror sci-fi. My emotional and psychological structure is terribly affected by what’s going on.
The sell-out blacks are mostly ‘ministers’ but also politicians (including the son of Adam Clayton Powell III!!!) and (heart skipping beats) civil rights activists. They are telling the city blacks to vote for Ghouliani. Guess what? Most blacks will. On the news today, it was reported how Ghouliani is most popular amongst blacks!?!?!?.
Black power is on sale. I’m terrified. The game is just about over. Tomorrow I am afraid to pick up the newspaper to read that Seinn Fein leaders Gerry Adams and Martin McGuiness will announce that they surrender all sovereignty of the Irish Republic and pledge allegiance to the Queen of England. Maybe perhaps, I will read about Nelson Mandela’s ANC nominate a white Afrikaner to run the party and South Africa.
Black America is truly finished. The Nebulans have them. Is it any wonder? The Nebulans have already had most of white America. Who does Black America look up to? White Americans of course. Blacks realise that whites are now fascists. If you can’t beat them, join them. Most blacks live off television. Blacks probably watch more television than the average American. Easy pickings for the Nebulans.
What will happen? The Black leaders will get money and posts in city government as their ‘followers’ will get nice gifts such as a police state, public lynchings, reductions in mass transit. Those left in the ‘middle classes’ will becomes pets of whites, bred and fattened for the Nebulans to feed off.
What about the rest of us not under thought control. We will be killed off if we’re stupid enough to stay. What I saw in Boston was just a small glimpse of what’s to come. We are all dying. I still believe in miracles. I have faith in hope.
Made it through another Halloween. Fought the Nebulans as well as regular vampires. tough fight but I think I won. Three days until the election. Ghouliani and I keep missing each other. I need to do a tour of the city to break the spell of thought control.
The New England Clan are in NYC. They have been allowed in by Guiliani. He needs their assistance to win re-election. Guilinai knows that his election victory is not absolute. This is his motive for doing a thought control tour of every district in NYC.
The New England Coven are also in the city to seduce me. Today, I ran into Redhead Sam from Boston with another man. The Nebulans are urging me to join them. While I was on the subway, they told me that their future depended on me. How without my vote for Guilinai, they cannot take the city. The Nebulans and the New England Clan are worried.
Just one more day until democracy expires or gets an extended lease. All of my allies are afraid and have gone into hiding. I have drawn up contingency plans should the city die.
If Ghouliani wins re-election, I will obtain a new passport and fly to France. I’ll will go underground to the south of France for a few months. There I will take a break and re-asses what happened and whit will occur in the future. Then I will go to Berlin. The only reason is intuition and the WehrSolians are pointing to Berlin. See what happens there and wait for the WehrSolians and Pleadians to arrive with Gravity Hoppers. Finally, return to USA for final evacuation to Australia to create the future. On the other hand, if the city lives, then I will hang around till next month and travel down to the Caribbean.
The Nebulans are feeling confident. Yet there is an unpredictable element unknown to neither then nor I. Am I nervous? Yes. Those idiots who think they are my bosses at work impeded my duties today. I was hoping to get my cash to travel around the city to break the spell of thought control. Instead, they fucked up big time by forgetting to pay me. I felt like slapping the shit out of Sadik. I still do but he is just an average human without power or knowledge.
This is going to be a close battle. In retrospect Atlanta was a piece of cake and a joke. Boston was a challenging and surreal victory on the road. Now the biggest fight of my life. Tonight I will pray to all the forces of good and powers of light. I need to defend my home.
What will happen if the Nebulans win? Many humans will have the memories erased. Their memories will be replaced by thoughts and images of hatred and lies. Humans will want to kill and devour one another. Humans will feed off rubbish and toxins. Some will be killed and imprisoned. Others will be tortured and ‘disappearances’ will start. Night time raids on apartments and homes. This is for all those under thought control.
For the free ones like myself it will be a horror show of horrors. We will witness all this. The pressure to conform and submit will become great. Some of us will commit suicide due to the pressure. Others will go insane. The more unruly and hot-headed will riot and get hurt by the municipal forces. Many traps will be set up to snatch our independence and souls. The worst case scenario will be the elimination of all free thinkers and dissidents. That possibility will not begin for another couple of years.
If Ghouliani wins re-election tomorrow night, I can count myself as one of the underground resistance movement. As the days come to pass, I am going to find fewer and fewer people to trust. I will need to be extremely careful. Whites and Blacks can betray me. I need to take care of sexual interests. Sex might be my downfall if I am not alert. this section ends. Who knows what will happen next? Wait and write.
NYC is dead. Ghouliani has won. The Nebulans now control the city. I have lost. Beaten on my own turf. The Americanisation of NYC is complete. Original character has been evicted. Here comes the clean puritan Disneyland.
This is the darkest moment of my existence. The victory of Ghouliani is far worse than Reagan’s re-election in 1984. As I write, I can feel the spirit of the city die. All around I can hear the arachnids devour the city’s vitality.
Is there any compensation out of this disaster? A few things:
I am not under thought control. Neither are any of my allies. I still have my soul. It is not a complete victory for the Nebulans. I hold the remaining spirit of the city within my heart. Ghouliani nor the insipid Nebulans cannot ever take that away. The war is not over. In fact, it is now getting interesting. The Nebulans are celebrating and feasting only upon those under their spell. If anything, tonight has made me stronger and more determined. I remain a major threat to my enemy.
What does the future hold? The next five years are going to be a horror show. Many humans will die, be imprisoned and tortured. Big Brother is going to flex his muscles. The police force will rampage and one person will be killed by them a week. Vampires will run the city by night. The elderly will be forced into death and suicide. Unemployment will skyrocket as slavery comes back into form(mental more than physical). Those on the outside will find themselves further marginalised. Some will be threatened. Others will find themselves financially coerced into cooperation.
I will leave the country soon. First stop, France. There is no difference anymore. From this point on, I declare myself on the side of resistance against Amerikkka, Big Brother, against capitalism. I declare myself an enemy to all elements of injustice, oppression and slavery. If I have to die to achieve my goal, so be it. I would rather not live than to live in tyranny. I am going underground permanently with the resistance. All fronts are now open: psychic, artistic and yes even physical resistance if I am forced into a corner.
The reign of darkness is not complete. The Galactic night is fading into the dawn of the Galactic day. It is now 3AM but it is not eternal. I dedicate my life towards those goals.
I have decided to leave the country. This is a big step and I’m nervous. Hell, my nerves are shot. Suffering from a dark spell. One person wants me to stay in NYC to make something here. What can I do here? The city has lost its substance. I feel a sadness enveloping. To stay in NYC will only further the pain. The is no more creativity left in the city. When I go around the city, I do not see life. The Lower East Side is the same old story: Pseudo intellectuals looking hip sipping coffee and drinking mixed drinks. Life in NYC has lost its fun. It’s all about running the rat race to pay bills and go through the motions. NYC is going through a draught. Everyone is NYC is a critic. Everyone is so urbane and witty. Everyone is so self important and more clever than the other. Bullshit.
It’s too late. No sense looking back at what could have been. The future is too uncertain to make definite plans. To pretend that I can make the future secure is self delusion.
For the past two nights I have had unusual sexual encounters. The first one occurred with a woman at an apartment squat in Brooklyn which I frequent to look for interesting times. We fucked incessantly. I do not know where the second woman came from but she joined in. Later we were looking for another place. I told them that we could not go to my grandmother’s. They insisted we go anyway. When we arrived, my grandmother didn’t mind having the two women over. One of the women goes into a hysterical fit accusing me of lying to her. The two walk out swearing.
Last night I was at the 1st Avenue subway station on the Brooklyn bound platform. A train arrived but I did not get on. Two cops on the train peer out at me but remain on it. The train left. There was a hot blonde sitting on the bench next to me wearing black pantyhose and a mini-skirt. Another train arrived. We both got on. A sits next to. I slouch on the seat with my legs stretched out. She does the same and leans against me. We pressed our faces together. I feel the nylon against her thighs. Her skin is delicate. We were about to take it further when a cop enters the subway car.
It was not my first sexual experience on the subway. When I was 9 years old, I had a sexual encounter with a girl in my 3rd Grade class named Emily. We had sexual play in the tunnel of the IRT under Broadway.
With all the new foreign American in NYC, any intelligent and creative black man is out of line. I’m supposed to fit into one of two categories:
1) A Hip-Hop ebonics speaking thug.
2)A proper speaking Uncle Tom who thinks the way white middle class America does i.e.; conservative without race consciousness.
However, I buck both trends. I am articulate with original ideas and have opinions which subvert mainstream thought. In other words: I am too intelligent and articulate which makes me more dangerous and unappealing.
When I speak, the words are too provocative and alarming. Most NYC ‘artists’ and ‘intellectual’ become perplexed, shocked and threatened when I come along. The accusations of ‘arrogance’ and ‘uppity’ get lopped about. My writing is ‘long winded and vague’. My music is ‘chaos and lacks tone’.
My open minded antics are outdated and not in vogue. My politics are ‘too much and out of touch’ with reality. I constantly have to ‘prove’ myself. I no longer have anything to ‘prove’. This is my city. Let the foreigners from Iowa, Texas Oklahoma and the other hinterland provinces go back to where they came from. They are the ones who have ruined NYC. They are the reason why K-Mart opened two stores in Manhattan. We never had malls here until White Bread Suburban Americans complained and lamented that they didn’t have JC Penney and Wal-Mart in Mid-Town Manhattan. It is these reactionary provincial backwards asses that are bringing their prejudices and fascist baggage into my city!
It is not uncommon for other to label me as ‘crazy’. When they do, I thank them.
I have come upon the realisation that America is a loveless country. It is a country of lonely psychopaths unable to love themselves. Why? It is because they do not understand themselves.
Just listened to David Bowie’s Earthling album. My favourite track is ‘I’m Afraid of Americans’. Right on!
1997: In history will go down as a watershed year. American fascism is in place. How much longer will this go on for? I do not know. The next 5 years are going to be critical.
Bill Clinton is an ass. A cowardly lion with conscience. The mans speaks words well and says the right things. Unfortunately, his bridge to the 21st Century has design and structural flaws 10X worse than the Williamsburgh Bridge. Clinton believes that a suspension bridge can be built without suspension cables. He believes in a free bridge where one must pay a toll to the troll to cross.
What is on the other side of the bridge to the next century? Slavery, imprisonment and economic collapse. Also another war. The next war will be the USA versus the World. Besides Britain, America has no real friends. Canada is not a real friend of the USA. Sure America has ‘friendly’ relations with many countries but that means little. For example: I can have friendly relations with my bosses at work but that does not necessarily mean that I ‘friends’ with them.
America is finding itself in that predicament. To make the wretched scene funnier, the Americans do not see this. This country is so arrogant and megalomaniac that the notion of anything un-American does not enter its periphery.
Over the summer France and China entered into a military ‘agreement’ or ‘partnership’ or ‘alliance’. I cannot recall what the exact phrase was. Anyway the accord was done to counter the one global power. The French and Chinese said that there needed to be more than one dominating country.
Last month, Russia and China signed a treaty ending centuries long border disputes. Why? Both countries got their shit together because they are wary of America. There are probably more manoeuvres against America than are publicly known. Eventually, terrorists will leave Europeans alone and start fucking with America.
It’s going to get nasty here. On one side, the neo-Nazi’s will try to take over when they decide to charge out of their bunkers in the forests and hills. On the other, oppressed peoples of the world will launch attacks on the coastal cities.
Meanwhile, the Black and white citizens are gearing up for a protracted and horrific race war. The first spark of the war? NYC.
Ghouliani has long since declared race war in NYC. The NYC branch of the Nation of Islam are forming strategies for a counter attack.
In Brooklyn, extreme Black radicals are arming themselves with automatic weapons shipped in from Third and First World nations via the black market. Sonny Carson, a Black Nazi lunatic is rallying his troops and recruiting disenfranchised Black youth who are ready to kill the police and every other white face they see.
Out on Staten Island, Aryan Nation has opened a branch. Italian Neo- Nazi skinhead youths are the front line soldiers. They are being backed by the police force. Staten Island Borough President Guy Mollinari is covering Aryan Nation by protecting them. The only thing preventing Blacks from fighting back are the community elders. However, one day a Black elder is going to be killed by the Nazi’s. Visitors atop the World Trade Center may look Southwest across NY Harbour and see a giant fireball rise from a tiny island.
This is what awaits us on the other side of Mr. Bill’s bridge. Perhaps, the most depressing aspect of this is that Mr. Bill probably did not intend for this to happen. Still, it is happening on his watch and his policies further exacerbate what’s happening.
Clinton is not a racist. Yet he knows most Americans are. So, he pretends to be racist to get their approval. On the other hand, Clinton is not anti-racist. Again, he pretends to be so to get the Black, Latino and anti-racist votes. This is his major design flaw to his bridge. The bridge might even collapse. If he had not dismantled the safety net, it would not be so bad. It is too bad he did. When the bridge collapses, people will fall into the abyss. Wait a minute! It is The Abyss which is on the other side to the Bridge to the 21st Century!
Paris, France
Saw more of Paris today. I went up to Rue Saint Denis where the Indian quarter of the city lies. I looked for the heavy police presence I had been told of. It is here, too. I witnessed the police pull over a motorbiker and take their clubs against the windscreen. Once again, I observed another cop pull over a car and harassed the driver.
In a certain way, I feel sorry for Paris and its people. The American way of life is imposed on them. Most Parisians do not take that so well. Who can really blame them.?
The French are a beautiful people. True, their history is tainted with tyranny and oppression, yet it’s a culture filled with sincerity of human spirit. In other words: The culture recognises its human fallibility to the extent that it is in deep doldrums about the current course of events. Like NYC, which has many beautiful people as well, Paris is losing, it not already lost, its humanity. What a shame.

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