Tuesday, December 13, 2016

Demon Inside of Me (D.I.M)



 She changed her name to escape her passed. Ashamed of what she thinks she did wrong In her passed.Even pondering her past life. Hung up on sins so far gone. With her new name she becomes invisible. She wants to be a ghost. But a loveless marriage kills all of you anyways. I morn your death. And smile about your existence. And laugh at these supposed sins you speak of.

Tech N9ne - Demons

Synchromystic enthusiast part time. 

Here I am on here again... in this year of the HD Lord. First time in a long boring time. My spark for the observation and unveiling of the infinite arc lost itself in a stark malarkey of never ending efforts towards gateways unattainable. My whimsical wow/MOMing of SYNC has SUNK, SUN-K?Itsokay..... and sympathy laughs for a cult in Winnipeg have been replaced with a low rasping joker like chuckle at how the message frequents itself into my life. I haven't even come close to partaking in the sacrament they offer. But love them non the less. Good people. In a rough part of Canada.

 I laugh in my mind a Bill Hicks Goat Boy laugh. Goat? Boy? My last name of course being KIDD which means young goat. Kid also meaning child. Or boy. These simple semantic plays become less and less FUN and more and more creepy as I find out that I have an actual demon inside of me.



I ingested psilocybin during fall one time. On a compulsive whim. I took them from the cupboard and blended them into a green kale carrot shake with apple and apple juice as the psychological cusion catalyst. It came on very fast and hard. Showed me the queen mind almost immediately. I saw her influence in the form of fractal squiggle beast heads. Multiple eyes and mouths. Unable to find the center line of perspective. And then the dialogue came. Kill yourself. On repeat. And why everyone in my life hates me cause I'm evil. Relentless and uncontrollable negative spatter. But I also felt my karma hit me in positive waves. I felt a cat like alien force gave me moments of specific euphoria as a token for treating my local cats so well. There's a reason cats were revered in the Ancient world. But just as my good karma hit, my negative karma took hold to the point of satanic exaggeration. This exaggeration is a demonic force that I think lives in my mother and fathers blood. Both my parents should not have bred. My dad would easily have moved on with out me if not for my fairy god step mother's reminders and attempted guilt trips. Thank god for her influence. She saved me.  I'm Just letting you know I have bad blood. My dad told me not to look into my last names history. Said its thieves, psychos and suicide.


I have spent the last couple days after the psilocyban trip trying to remember this demon's pattern. A satanic template. I stole those mushrooms. From my roommate. My friend. The trip had me convinced I'm not worth this life. Then I had the existential moment of terror as I realized that maybe death isn't an actual solution. I found my separate voice in certain moments of the trip. Classic stuff. And it seems every time I trip on psilocybin I have to contend with this part of me. This self interrogation. That relentless inner dialogue from heLL77. H. E. double hockey sticks. Keep your upside down 7 on the ice my man. Cause you cant let this demon win another game.

The Help





My recent life situation has been pure magic. My own heroic journey. After spending the entire summer with my kids cause I have been on injury benefits I found myself submersed in an interesting living situation. Thanks to a good relationship with my children's mother and her partner, I stayed at their home for the summer. And after her eviction notice in the fall, I found a place to stay at my so called friends apartment in the city called Red Deer. He is a reincarnation of my best friend. Just a 20 year old version and taller and with a frow. And I met him in the mental hospital a while back. His nick name was Bacon. This hospital being where I also met a lady. Anyways, I stayed with Bacon after the eviction. Things were fantastic at first. Drugs and booze and a stripper for a neighbor. I was in a vortex of debauchery. I mean, I don't go to hard, but I enjoy a good drug freak out just like the next psychonaut.

Everyday after over sleeping we would smoke weed and watch anime. Play chess and I would drink vodka. When his wife would come home from her work rotation she would spoil him with gifts ranging from chocolate covered magic mushrooms to an interesting mini hatchet novelty blade. One time she took us out for the most amazing sushi to which she ordered me warm saki and pass me new treats throughout the meal. She is amazing. They are amazing. But I broke and out of frustration found a way home after things didn't work out. Still owing money for a car I haven't paid for. That doesn't exist anymore. But a story that is still at play.

 I'm crippled and homeless in this year of our lord. Sleeping at my mothers mostly. Bumming it out in BC at my father's occasionally. Or with any woman that wants me. Not that I try to hard for anything. But I know things will change. Patience has been the lesson. Focus is the next. Detachment is still brilliant. Need help. Need to make a choice after I get some expert options.



I should elaborate on Bacon. He suffered from schizophrenic thoughts of devastating violence. We met in the centennial center on the AWOL ward, where they send all the freaks to evaluate if their episodes were drug induced or just good old metal disease. After losing my family I lost my mind. Wanted to chop the branches off on the west side of a pine tree. So I could hang myself facing the sunset over the mountains. On the way to kill myself I ended up seeing an old bully from school. I saw his smile and decided if that prick could be happy then I owe myself one shot at getting help. So I turned east towards the nearest hospital and informed a GP of my intense suicidal impulses. Too which he sent me by ambulance to the world famous treatment center.

The ambulance ride was intensely emotional. The paramedic set me at ease with her intelligent questions I actually wanted to answer. In fact she helped me in allot of ways these world class head specialists couldn't touch. After the intake process and blood taking I found myself an immediate friends with my roommate. Who I still keep in touch with. He would be the social catalyst that would get me out of my initial shell shock. I was surrounded by crazy people. And immediately found people like me. This was in the right place for me. Days consisted of scheduled activities and therapy. For the first few days I read. I read Congo by Michael Crichton in a few hours. Then I was told by my roommate that I had to ask for 'privs'. Privileges. My first impression of the main psychologist was bleak and unimpressive. I was angry by his lack of compassion and obvious agitation. Angry by his cold and ignorant demeanor. So after my roommates advice, I skipped go and collected my privs.

Lets go back and explain things better before going into the life changing event I experienced while in the mental hospital.

Natural Magic of myself.




I go back to these old places. In my dreams also. With my free time I recoil into the depths of my abstract childhood. Chasing these old magical thoughts. Another one of God's orphans cut lose into Satan's prison. No wonder he/she is so angry with us. Lucy that is. Lucifer that will be. I was one of the sickly sheep meandering behind. Even the wolves thought me to weird to consume. Mouth open and staring at the sky as I keep just close enough to smell the shit of the better sheep. Doesn't matter cause I was always behind. Staring at the stars. So I go to the ghettos I was raised in and notice a missing building here and there. A coat of paint. But the cement bones remain. Crumbling slowly with that entropy dance. Back to neighborhoods where I caught a glimpse. A stargate? A warp? An over active imagination cultivated through years of neglect and exposure to pop culture? A better place seen on this artificial mental event horizon.

 Point is, I saw a line. A real line. The place between this and the other as so many have already talked about. Sometimes I am so sure there is a tangible force to comprehend behind my wild god chase. But then I remind myself to keep honest; I'm chasing a dream. Reenacting moments of my past by seeing these physical things that haven't moved. I have moved, but these structures like bones stay in their skin of static existence. Reminders of my schizoid magical moments. Just moments. Do memories dull the senses? As one punk rock poet said in a song I used to listen to on repeat.

 So, again, I go to these low income housing projects and think of my Mother. How the feelings about her fluctuated between intense unreasonable hatred and absolute loving concern. You see, I have a daughter just like her. As she grows I see her personality pattern come into focus. JUST like my mother. My first daughter is just as in love with her dad as my own mom. My mother and grandmother did not connect. And I can see the signs that mine may separate the same and find a new family the same as my mother did when she wasn't loved right.

 So I have gone back, ceaselessly trying to find and capture this checkpoint I feel is just up ahead; but in the passed. Check point of delusion. My delusion. My race. My attempt at bypassing this genetic destiny I think I see so clearly. Then, as my life would have it, I came into new magical ideas. Attempting to avoid these ideas leads to stronger synchronicities. I knew as soon as I poured intention into these presented equations, I would be fucked. And I did fall for them eventually. Incorporating my passed natural magical experiences of my youth into the collective contingency of The modern magical pardigm. Old places of magic with new coats of paint. Structures of the collective ars memoria that remain similar in appearance to their initial constructions. But always familiar and the similar. Nothing new. The point is everyone has their own natural magic as we parade our blinking cursor of a vessel through these places. And I feel it should mix. Not be amputated. Our natural magic, that is to say. Maybe I can get fucked up in new ways to get passed my depression? Take these ancient ideas and rituals and see if I can trick myself into new perceptions. Another fancy redirection. I was a swirling pile of dead leaves in the concrete jungles of a conformed city in this western paradigm. Mesmerized by the dynamic flow of hot and cold air mixing with the floating garbage covered in symbols and Pavlovian triggers. Self organizing into swirls around corners. Bits of debris caught in the spit and vomit from the people of the streets. Some particles finding their way under doors. Some landing on the dashboards of very fancy peoples car's. And this woman I feel I need to speak of, she was a real and injured phoenix. And she crash landed into my chaotic leaf dance. Igniting me. I looked so beautiful until I was consumed. Then all that was left was the wind. I became invisible to her. She was healed by my burnt remain's nutrient drop. And she flies now. With a few essential magical organic compounds settling into the earth of these places I drive passed more then I used to walk to. Driving passed them now. But still validating them with a mental nod and sparkling eyes.























Friday, August 17, 2012

Product of your Magic.

We're here to fly off the tracks on this whole thing called...
Magic has been a part of my vocabulary ever since my grandmother highlighted it as "Satan's work...Not to be dabbled with in any shape or form." She said she would be 'cross' with me otherwise.
She said that allot. 'Something' would make her cross with me. Sunday nights in the 80's had the CBC television station entrancing millions of Canadian children and adults all the wiser, with the 'imagineering' of Disney. A truly enchanted visit into the highly rendered folk stories of our time. I remember the almost euphoric awe brought on by the blue Disney splash screen. The angelic sounds rebounding off my eardrums forcing me to shut up and pay attention. One Disney artist from the early days was 'D'on 'B'luth(42). He connected with me through such cartoons as Robin Hood and The Rescuers. Don Bluth also made video game Dragon's lair. A 'C'ult 'C'lassic(33)indeed. Basically he is a cleaver marketeer. Modern day Magicians use subliminal techniques and rely on consensus perceptions to get the inside job done.
"The Rescuers is a 1977 American animated film produced by Walt Disney Productions and first released on June 22, 1977 by Buena Vista Distribution. The 23rd film in the Walt Disney Animated Classics series, the film is about the Rescue Aid Society, an international mouse organization headquartered in New York and shadowing the United Nations, dedicated to helping abduction victims around the world at large. Two of these mice, jittery janitor Bernard (Bob Newhart) and his co-agent, the elegant Miss Bianca (Eva Gabor), set out to rescue Penny (Michelle Stacy), an orphan girl being held prisoner in the Devil's Bayou by treasure huntress Madame Medusa (Geraldine Page)." Anyone who has read my words knows that 1977 is an slight obsession for me. Although most of my energy these days about '1977' goes towards ranting my poor wife's ears off about such things as alien contact and hidden technology. Regardless we're here to fly off the tracks on this whole thing anyways. Luckily I can tell you a story using facts from my life. Thoughts and dreams I hold fast to memory. Superstitious synchronicity and drug inspired mental ninjutsu collide.
From what I can see, Magic is a before and after binary system of maze walking. The magician practices visualizing things he wants done. He has a motivation towards a certain intent. But he should only act in the aether. In the void. In the dream time. Through imagination. Symbolism attaches to intent much like the arms on a typewriter attach to their code. A magician loops the symbols in ways that manipulate reality into his will. Once you see the abstract maze like structure of our brains you realize oddly enough that the brain physically takes on the abstract but symmetrical split of maze patterned grey matter. For me and my psychosis I see~hear~feel~smell~taste certain 'cues'. A superstitious disposition incubated by some of my relatives and now, also built on a half ass understanding of synchronicity and occult things. I haven't even read any Yung yet. So distracted. I'm a clumsy fence walking wizard. But I can say for certain that ritual magic works. For instance. One night, A short while ago, I made up a lottery sigil and posted about it on Christopher Hunter Myers facebook page. I was not being totally respectful towards my intent. It was playful magic at the time. I was almost mocking it. The next day I found a bunch of rolled change we lost during packing for the move. Just enough change was found to make us a bit more comfortable in terms of personal consumables. I can give you one very recent and successful incantation I meditated on and thus executed. It involved a certain person at work who recently started to 'bu77y' me with mocking taunts. I mean, my disposition has people thinking I'm weak and vulnerable. Some people can't help but see a target. This isn't good cause I keep my life as pure as I can. Most of the time. I feel I'm a good father and lover. I feel I'm a good provider(lies) and an honorable person at heart(true) for the most part. So when people fuck with me, I throw out my intent via mental insult. Can't help it. I curse them. Passive aggressive extremus. And I believe I have a demon familiar tending my magical(passive aggressive) whims. My habits keep me bound to be antisocial. Figure it out. At least cartograph my experience in to bits I can process? Cause god damn if that S-O-B was fired the very next day. His name was also Jon. And he was big. And he listened to heavy metal music and he was a welder. I say good riddance for once in my life. I carried a cross long enough for the guilt of that prick. This very same building where I work now I worked in back from 2001 - 2003 for another company. The building carries allot of karmic ghosts I think. Treatment I didn't deserve and cruelty expressed behind my back is a stain I feel there. Yes I'm fucking weird. I'm a freak. But you don't know my honor. And fuck you if you jump to conclusions. People must want negativity. And I'm guilty as charged as being negative. My mental extent at age 18-19? During this time of my working career I actually started to visualize many of the people there as Don Bluth characters. But sadly that part of my 'magic' is gone and in line. Now I just participate in a casual skullduggery. Mental migitry. Mickey mouse ego control. I can handle it cause I'm a skilled worker and at least I can concentrate on the job at hand. I enjoy my job these days. It in itself is a magical ritual I'll get into another time. Although I've experienced focused intent to the point where I feel its legitimate, I do not spend to much time casting spells of thought. Too lazy or distracted? But god dammit it when you are truly scared, do you not ask for god? Who ever is there HELP!
alien contact and hidden technology. Northern Mars polar structure. Credit ~internetz~
God damn it if I don't miss the magic of my own ancient imagination. When nostalgia visits, I spend good time with it. Remembering how pure I felt as a child. Remembering the good and bad. Anyways... Perhaps a fragmented shard of a moon tower. Built out of moon dust. Charged with solar radiation. A tower between our 2 worlds. This was the tower of babel. Our collective attempt at stacking wooden alphabet blocks as a group. When you realize that "once upon a time in a Galaxy that is home, exists a fractal wave of consciousness. Technology is fractal in discovery. Tesla probably had knowledge of these things . Start with one question. Ask yourself. Do you think we are supposed to live underwater? Imagine the birthing process underwater. Imagine the babies floating sill attached to their mothers. A tower. Coming up for air when needed. Where is air? Mothers face.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

The Cube is gleaming

"NOAA satellites traced the bright flash of X-ray light to an area on the sun's surface known as region 1402 — the same area that had produced a weaker flare Thursday. A coronal mass ejection — which can hurl billions of tons of plasma up to 5 million mph — quickly followed."



Long time no C. How are your ears people? How do you feel? How does this reality make you feel? Do you feel like a leave, a big leave, on a slow decent to the chipper? Where begins the feast or famine by global magnitude solar storm crisis? Did we have the insurance of trinity suns in our solar system once upon a time? After all, gods have been known to represent stars.

{{The cube shines forward information in huge packets in this year of the dragon 2012.}}


Our connection is...............upgrading. More flow of information. Good things to come for those with true grit.


Aurora Borealis at Tromvik Norway from Helge Mortensen on Vimeo.




Enter the Dragon of this year of our lord. The keyper of the secret knowledge. All information comes from the sun. And so does all art.