The Universe.

I want you to stop for a moment, right there where you're sitting still and take notice of your breathing. Just then, yes I took control of you. just like hating another person in the twilight, before that word meant something other than nighttime. I need to you look at me, look deep at me. Look down my soul and into the streets where I was raised.

Streetlight madness screaming down midnight cold air, with a hoodie being pulled open by the wind in a stupid rage.

Bald headed tattoo armored bully who beats women, find him on my graffiti tattooed streets and show him the orgasmic crashes of baseball bat carving swishes in the air.

Wet.
Smacking.

Like fucking in deep pillows, wet. Smacking, wouldn't you? Feel the massive force of driving a fleshy waiter into kitchens of birth. Dinner is served, did you forget you were breathing as I told you to?

I don't ask questions, I state the obvious in satirical puns that debase the ill informed and make everyone in tight jeans, laugh before talking out of the coffee house, looking for their keys in parking spot tag. You can see my handy work on the street corners, in orange halos over the prostitutes, fishnet stockings on middle aged men who suck cock for another hit. I don't miss the freak kingdom, I miss the familiarity of asking directions from men who dress like caricatures of their mother's before daddy made their little sister.

The sister they should have been before walking in on midnight dances for lack of a better word.

You are still breathing according to my plans.

Kill the weak, eat their flesh. The Freak Kingdom devours the young of a thousand goats and still has hunger for more. Midwestern girls with stars in their eyes, searching for validation from the Televison gods will suck cock after losing their phone cards.

Make it big, sell it high. Get it high, everyone is doing it to get the dream that they tell you want from the day you are born. Born into the Freak Kingdom where little dreams give you big roads to walk, where you find willing flesh to be sold in the meat market of the media.

Take a deep breath because you are still alive.

Acting in the small play, the recital, make it big, have an apartment in silverlake, everyone is moving to Echo park, Echo park is so four years ago. Feel the pulse, move away from the city. Move back in. Be as deranged as you'd like and remember that serial killer will cut off your arms and let you run naked down the highway so you can't sign your contracts once you're done sucking uncut penis for your rent money.

Just this once, only this month, before things start to pick up. Remember to cake the makeup so no one remembers what you used to look like when you were a human being. Remember that the Freak Kingdom devours the young and uses them for girl on girl on girl on girl on pigs that live on excrement.

This time I want you to blink.

You are allowed to stop reading this now.

If I were dying in a really cool way, like by slamming a spaceship into another bigger spaceship I would say something like: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGG" like that one guy in star wars who like totally killed the fuck out of the super star destroyer by flying into the bridge.

Last night I had a dream that there was a planet that was about to collide with the earth. This planet wasn't from our solar system. Actually the history of this planet was made very clear to me through the language of the dream. This planet had been knocked out of orbit by another planet that had drifted through it's solar system. And that planet had done the same and the one before, etc. until it finally stemmed from a supernova that knocked one of it's planets off into space.

Like a cosmic game of billiards, planets knocking into each other and wandering the void until they knocked into other planets. Like a molecular chain reaction on a grand scale.

In the dream I saw a team of astronauts land on this wandering planet of chaos and try to knock it out of the way of our solar system. Kinda like one of the many movies where they blow up asteroids. But when they landed on this cold dead world they found that it was full of ruined cities, dead and illuminated by the stars in eternal night.

Massive buildings and statues all crumbling for thousands of years. Frozen oceans, barren deserts and silence. The former inhabitants of this planet were like anthropomorphic crickets that had attained sentience.

It looked like they were where we were in terms of their technological achievement.

All of their Art, History and culture. All of it was meaningless and dead and none of it was going to be saved.

Before the planet was destroyed to preserve all of our art, history and culture, I woke up.

I blame eating that quesadilla before bed.

Oh boy I feel much better now.

Far away on the planet of mind, there was The Guy. The planet of the mind was under attack from the machine of Cubes, and the The Guy was the only hero brave enough and with the most wisdom to save his world. The guy had sacrificed his hand in order to gain the key of entry to the fortress of forbidden portals.

The Guy rode across the desert as the final attack from the Machine began. The cubes bombarded the planet of the mind and they sprouted forth as more machines. The Guy knew that there wasn't much time so he hurried through the planes and made it to the fortress.

Using his key hand he unlocked the gate and entered the geometric power grid. He was greeted by the two holders of the trip. One handed The Guy a drink of the sacred icee and Two took the key hand and replaced it with the seed of power.

With the two elements of power in his system The Guy transformed into the Avatar of the Mind. His eye had grown into a hyperspheres and he was adorned with a cape and his suit was covered in the geometric patterns of the fortress. His mind opened, and from his one hand he cast rings of fire and from the seed he was able to sprout forth tentacles of power.

The Guy was enveloped with a yellow sphere of light as he levitated up to the COMAND CENTRE and he traveled through the pinball machine of the ancients. When he transported into the COMAND CENTRE he went to the main screen and looked at the Machine. It was giant and terrible, and spoke with a soulless voice. It spat forth cubes that were larger than before.

The Guy thought to himself that he had to do something, so he opened a wormhole to the machine in the orbit around the mind planet.

The Guy fell through the curious portal past eyes and giant three-dimensional figures until he was in outer space.

The Guy flew toward the machine but it pelted him with the cubes. The guy pressed forward, smashing and tearing the cubes until he reached the Machine. The guy landed on the chest of the soulless machine and stabbed downward with the great seed. He planted it deep into Machine and filled it with a great terror. The terror was overwhelmed as the seed blossomed within the machine and transformed it into the bud of life. The bud began to heal all the evil that the machine had created.

The entire universe was within the change of the machine.

And from the portal where the machine once spat forth the cubes of destruction, more seedlings began to rain on the planet of the Mind. The Seeds fell and covered the world with life and transformed the old machines into the new sources of the life on the mind planet.

The Guy had returned and he was healed by his victory over the machine. His true hand had returned and he had found the balance between the cube and the flower.

And the world of the mind was once again green...

And that's what happens when you get stoned on Acid.

I use my PC on an almost daily basis. Mostly out of boredom and sometimes because I actually have to do something with it... Okay so I only use my PC cause I'm bored. Seriously. PC = Time killer.

But the real questions lurks: Why do I have to kill time, instead of using it properly?

I don't know. I'm reminded of this one Comic where these guys are waiting for their lives to start and so they say they are always waiting. Waiting for the "Right time" until their dreams start happening and they don't have to work for it. They say they are just waiting. Waiting always.
Until eventually they grow old, and while they are weak and infirm they are forced to see the truth. There was no practice, there was no waiting. That was their life, and it's ended. Wasted on hoping on dreams that they never worked towards achieving.

Wow, I wrote that whole passage without a typo, go em!

Fuck.

Oh well, at least I know I'll be a famous writer. Someday...

I just have to wait until it's the right time to start writing....

The unconscious and the conscious trade places in the memory center of the brain.

The universe is the perception of the shape of your mind.

The order of old wizards told their stories of magic. That's how they taught him.

Learn by doing.

You know you're better than this, write more, think less.

Everything will come together.

If that's what it'll take.

At least it's outside.

That which is unnameable.

Definitely huge.

In the summer of 1999 I discovered alot of very interesting things. I had just quit my job as a pizza delivery boy and I was steadily developing a nice career as a pot dealer at my high school. But when summer break started I was sorta stuck with not having a market base due to the lack of kids I used to sell to.

I used to get all my Weed from this old hippie in Venice beach who called himself "Earthworm guru" I never wanted to find out how he got that nickname but I was also very curious to find out. One day the earthworm guru called me up and asked me if I wanted to go "make major moolah" which I took to mean money.

Yes it means money.

Guru told me that a friend of his was going to send him 8,000 dollars if he sold him a Book of Sunshine. And he'd give me an ounce of weed for free for my trouble. Now at the time I had no idea what a book of sunshine was.

"it's a book where the pages are soaked in LSD and then cut up into tabs. it's usually worth 10,000 but I need to pay child support."

So he asked me to take the book up to San Fransisco and collect the money since he was on a court order not to leave L.A.

In retrospect I probably shouldn't have been hanging around with him.

He had me meet him on he beach. I was barefoot and had my headphones around my neck while I was smoking a joint, when he came up to me on a bicycle with a backpack, he reached inside and pulled out a large leather bound copy of Salvador Dali's Art. It had the words "Sun Shine" craved into the cover. The pages were sticky with LSD and they were perforated into tabs on every page.

So I asked my buddy Greg to come with me up to frisco and make some easy money and for company. He was down so we hopped in my car on a Saturday morning and started driving up the coast.

It was supposed to be a quick 5 hour drive.

It turned into a very bizarre weekend.

We ended up picking up a hitchhiker who was an escaped mental patient who told us she was fighting evil. She tried to steal the book. then she tossed it out of the car when we told her what it was. She said it was evil. After we found the book again the girl had disappeared into the woods and so we kept driving until we reached a diner.

When we got there the waitress was a really old lady that had a hole in her throat that she smoked cigarettes out of. The food was good, but that was probably because we were really high.

Then a police man came in and went to use the bathroom. Greg put a tab in the cop's diet soda and we watched as he started to trip out.

We kept driving until we made it to a hotel where we were going to sleep. Then a pimp or something got into a fight with his old lady. Then the Cop who was tripping out kicked down our door and was standing there naked with just his hat and sunglasses on.

He was shouting something about us taking his "Safety" and then he shot up the T.V.

We got back to driving and finally made it to San Francisco. And we met up with a street preacher who was standing on a soapbox and shouting about the Y2K bug.

He kept talking about how the world was about to end and that there was nothing anyone could do.

He said that the Mayans predicted that the world would end and that Nostradamus predicted that the world was going to end and how basically everyone knew that the world was about to end.

Greg and I left him and we found Guru's buddy "Earthworm Shaman" and collected the money out of a boot where his peg leg was.

On the ride back We smoked two joints. Still vaguely haunted by the Street Preacher's words Greg and I started talking about the end of the world.

We came to a conclusion: The world is full of people trying to have control over their lives. If the world was ending tomorrow then they'd all kill themselves today. Because some people can't live without being in complete control. And in general, everyone needs control, even a little.

But the thing is, the world is infinitely chaotic Order. Everything makes sense in hindsight, and the future is completely unknown.

Life is good.

It was around sunrise when we drove through the Hollywood hills past the Hollywood sign and through the city. When I gave Guru the money he told me that I was going to do alright.

I got a letter in mail a week later, I was accepted to UCLA. Now I just had to wait and see.

Maybe Y2K isn't going to the be the end of the world. But I think I'll be okay because for the time being, I'll be living my life to the fullest, because even if it isn't the end of the world, how can anyone be sure that the world isn't going to end tomorrow?

http://x.datchan.org/sanctuary/

In my home town, they recently figured out that the city was experiencing a crime wave. A serial killer to be exact. You see lately there have been a lot of homeless people on the streets sitting in front of storefronts and begging for change. They sit in on benches and in alleyways, on sidewalks and in the gutters. Lately though, the homeless have just been sitting there.

Most people never notice them. Most people have the ability to ignore the homeless down to such an art, such a refined skill, that these poor beggars slowly become architecture. The homeless become moving parts of the sidewalk. Like ugly statues that no one likes to look at.

They smell bad, they are dirty. We all feel bad for them and we'd all really love to do something to help, but it's always nicer to let somebody else do it. Somebody else is probably volunteering at a shelter and giving out food. And God bless them, the world needs more people like that but... Well I can't find the time.

Lately the homeless have been just sitting on the sidewalk holding their signs and their little Styrofoam cups to collect donations.

It's easy to alleviate your guilt by just tossing some coins in those cups.

Lately the homeless just keep their heads down and don't even move when you drop some change in their cups.

You think to yourself that they are strung out on something and they might be dangerous. So you just keep ignoring them. The flies are circling their heads. The smell is like rotting meat. It's normal that's just the way they are, they smell bad and are sleeping.

Eventually a few of those Volunteers with their good hearts, who happen to find the time to give scoops of food to these poor souls started to notice that there were very few people coming to the shelters anymore.

Eventually someone went out and starting finding these homeless people just sitting in the streets holding a cup full of change with their heads down in a hopeless stupor.

With a little inspection it was obvious that their throats were cut ear to ear.

The killer had been placing them in poses that would make them look like they were begging while intoxicated. Many of them had been rotting for a few weeks before anyone noticed. People just thought that's they way homeless people smelled and looked. Barely alive and smelling of rotting meat.

Now they were rotting meat.

When the story broke it was obvious that the guilt of the people was now going to bite them hard. But the most outrage had come from one simple thing.

The killer was collecting the change from all of his victims on a weekly basis.

1. A person's a person, no matter how small.
2. You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself, any direction you choose.
3. Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you.
4. From there to here, and here to there, funny things are everywhere.
5. Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.
6. Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So... get on your way.
7. If you never did, you should. These things are fun, and fun is good.
8. I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. An elephant's faithful, one hundred percent.
9. So the writer who breeds more words than he needs, is making a chore for the reader who reads.
10. And will you succeed? Yes indeed, yes indeed! Ninety-eight and three-quarters percent guaranteed.
11. Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.
12. All alone! Whether you like it or not, alone is something you'll be quite a lot. - Dr. Seuss
13. The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go.
14. Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one.
15. Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the things you can think up if only you try!
16. Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not.
17. I'm afraid sometimes you'll play lonely games too, games you can't win because you'll play against you
18. I'm sorry to say so but, sadly it's true that bang-ups and hang-ups can happen to you
19. From there to here, and here to there, funny things are everywhere.
20. I know up on the top you are seeing great sights, but down at the bottom we, too, should have rights.

Dear Elves,

Hello, it has recently come to my attention that the majority of you have been complaining about the recent pay cuts and changes in hours. I've had several talks with Mrs. Claus and we have no reason to increase pay or hours unless the staff becomes better at their jobs. I've noticed that there has been an INCREDIBLE drop in performance over the last few months. Frankly I don't think it's worth having a staff of magical elves unless they are preforming at a magical level. I am tired of corners being cut and frankly none of you would still have jobs if you worked for any other magical corporations, and that includes the tooth fairy industries, Easter bunny incorporated, and Chuck E. Cheese. I can't stress this enough. Unfortunately due to such high demands and poor worker output and the recent rumors I've heard of a worker's strike, I have to Announce that Xmas united is going to be closing it's North Pole Offices and relocating to the South Pole, with a new Penguin work force at only a 16th the cost. Hopefully you will learn from your laziness's cost and have more initiative in searching for new jobs. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me at my new Hawaiian office. Sorry for any inconveniences that this may cause.

Sincerely, Nicolas Claus. C.E.O.

Maggie was eight years old when she was running around on the beach with her mother. It was a Friday afternoon and the sky was full of cotton candy pink clouds while the sun slid down across the sky. Maggie was running from sea shell to sea shell picking them up and putting them to her ear, giggling at the echo of the sea in her ear.
"Don't run off too far honey." Her mother called after her when she ran off faster than her mother's relaxed jaunt. Maggie ran, and she squealed when her toes dipped in the water. She and her mother walked illuminated in the orange light of the sunset. Sand in their toes and a cool breeze coming off the sea. Maggie's mother watched as the sunset finally died under the waves, behind the last hump of the deep blue ocean.
"Mommy, Mommy!" Maggie cried.
Her mother turned quickly to see what was going on.
"I found special seashell it's making weird noises."
Maggie's mother walked up to her smiling daughter holding a large white conch to her ear.
"What do you mean honey?" Maggie's mother asked walking up to her daughter.
"Listen!" Maggie offered the conch to her mother, who picked up the shell and brought it up to her ear. The noise it produced was something that Maggie's mother hadn't heard since she was a girl her daughter's age. At first it was the simply just the sound of the sea trapped in a shell, but then it became a soft ethereal song, high notes floating on a symphony of ghostly wailing.

Maggie looked up at her mother, whose eyes grew wide and childlike with wonder.
"What is it Mommy?"
Maggie's mother smiled softly and closed her eyes, the ghost song she held reminded her of years ago when she was a girl. The song that sounded both joyful and full of sorrow.
"Mommy?"
Maggie's mother took the conch and placed it against Maggie's ear again.
"When I was a little girl there used to be these big Animals, they were like Fish but they were really big"
Maggie nodded.
"Well these Animal they used to sing to each other to find each other in the sea."
Maggie smiled and asked "What happened to them?"
"They all died out a long time ago." Maggie noticed that her mother stopped smiling.
"They were called whales"
"Why did the whales die mommy?"

The shell stopped singing.

And Maggie never got an answer as they quietly walked to their car.

There's this old lady that lived on my street that everyone knew as the "crazy old cat lady." Every night she'd sit out on the lawn and feed her cats, and she'd stare at anyone who walked by her house. She was really creepy and a lot of younger kids used to tell stories about her being a witch.

Well, one night while me and my buddy Ryan were smoking weed we noticed something really weird. The cat lady was always feeding the alley cats and taking them back into her house, but she never seemed to have any of her own cats come back out of the house.
With the way she collected them she must have had at least fifty cats in her tiny decaying house. So we decided to investigate. One day when the old lady was out, probably to a doctor's appointment we snuck in her house. The back door was unlocked, and her house was surprisingly clean. But something was off.

The house smelled like pork.

And there was an absence of cats. That alone should have been the first tip off that something was wrong. But no, in our half stoned exploration we kept looking around. Ryan said that he had the munchies and so we decided to raid the old lady's fridge.

It was filled with skinned fried cats, the old lady had been eatting them.

When it first started nobody panicked. Everyone was so used to pandemic scares and media hyping up every situation that nobody took the mushrooms seriously. I remember though, that most of the scientists on T.V. said that this would become the worst pandemic to face the planet. Then they started showing us pictures of the victims of the Mushrooms.

That's when people started to panic.

From the beginning it looked like the mushrooms were a nightmare. The first victim was found in Brazil, dead on top of a air control tower, the mushrooms blooming out of his eyes and mouth. These big blood red mushrooms that grew out of this guy's mouth were joined by all these little mushrooms that they found sprouting all over his body, through the skin and out from under his nails. All these fleshy mushrooms were dusting spores all over the air field before anyone found the body.

Before scientists and doctors knew what they were looking at the first reports of a victim in Japan were coming in. Then in Hong Kong. Then London. Rome.

All the victims had something in common, that made everything seem like a nightmare.

They were all either found dead perched on a tall building with mushrooms covering their bodies and pouring spores on the ground, or they were found trying to get to a high place, in a manic sort of rage.

The doctors on TV told us that the mushrooms were a strain of the Cordyceps mushroom that mutated and was able to afflict mammals. Cordyceps was a mushroom that grew in insects in the rain forest, The doctor on TV said it had the capacity to attach to host's brain and make them climb to a place over other insects. She said that in an ant it would make the host climb over it's colony, then die attached to a high place, so the spores that fell from the mushroom that sprouted out of the Ant's head would infect the entire colony. It was known for wiping out entire colonies of Ants.

Just from one infected Ant.

Now it was in people.

The press started calling them the "Mushroom Zombies" while the world officials were trying to contain the situation. Within weeks most of Brazil was a massive graveyard. The news helicopters recorded images of entire cities completely abandoned except for the rooftops of skyscrapers that were stacked high with corpses covered in mushrooms.

It was terrifying to watch on T.V. All these buildings capped with piles of bodies, newly infected "zombies" perching and dying on the bodies of other zombies that died. Clouds of spores visable being carried on the wind.

And in all this we knew it was spreading. In two months Japan was declared uninhabitable. Australia declared that 90% of it's population was dead.

A week later, they was no news from other countries. People were too scared to riot because being outside meant facing the spores.

I remember when television stopped, The news casters said that they had become infected.

I haven't seen anyone in a few days.

I feel tired, I'm getting rashes all over...

---------- Epilogue---------

And I had this urge, to go to the roof of my apartment building. I got to the top of the building and climbed over my mushroomed neighbors and caught a glimpse of the horizon. I have a mushroom growing over my left eye, I wanted to pull it off, but it's very sensitive. What I saw was amazing.

Over all the roof tops covered with bodies growing massive mushrooms, brilliantly illuminated by the sunrise. These giant black pyramids were landing on our planet.

As I wrapped my arms around an antenna I saw one of the pyramids open, I realized that this wasn't just a mutation.

It was an invasion.

I'm so tired.

I'm going to sleep.

I wake up and it takes ten minutes for me to register that I'm awake.

I need to think about it.

I am always tired, always trying to see if I really am still dreaming. In reality it wouldn't matter. Because no matter how I try I'm always trying to wake up in every situation.

because in life, Who doesn't want to escape the nightmares and just wake up in a nice comfy bed and say to yourself.

"It was all just a dream."

A baby seal walks into a club, even a joke is a story.

I like to think that I write things because I feel like I'm creative or something like that. But that's not true, or even what I think. The truth of the matter is that I like to write because I enjoy creating something that is a different experience than what I am experiencing.

I think writing is important not because it's just a creative outlet, but because it's something that's as old as language itself. Writing is storytelling. Storytelling is something that is as old as the human race. Every place in the world where more than one human could sit down and talk about their day has folklore and legends and has a rich culture based around stories that have passed down through the generations. Humanity is race of storytellers.

Stories hold more in them than just a description of a time and a place. Stories hold in them the perfect art-form. A good story has the capacity to contain all other art-forms in them, a good story can paint a picture, of the most glorious vistas of reality. It can show you a view of brilliant emerald green forests that are blooming with rainbows of flowers and choirs of birds dancing among branches. It can show you the darkest pits of blackened deserts where the sun only shines behind smoke clouds and bonfires in the distance make a blanket over the world. Storytelling is like holding a paintbrush of words and using it to paint landscapes across the canvas of your own mind.

A good story can show you a movie that only you can watch, play you a song that only you can hear, and give you an experience that is unique to you and can only be experienced by you.

That's why being a writer is so important to me.

I want to create experiences, even if it's just for me. I want to create worlds in my mind and I want to entertain myself with stories that I want to read.

It was a time of great brilliance for the Draconians, they had developed technology that had lead them to the stars. From their tiny blue planet they colonized the jungle world that sat next to theirs and built massive pyramids in the lands and they ruled. Their worlds were the pinnacle of of technological advancement.

The jungle worlds they ruled were beautiful and utopia, the Creatures that they ruled over were massive reptiles that they lived in harmony with.

For thousands of years the Draconians built their world into a magestic place full of life and wonder. But their World changed. The planet that they colonized rebelled against the homeworld. the resulting War extinguished all life on both worlds. One of them becoming a barren desert. And the other was doomed to an Ice age.

The Weary survivors of both worlds banded together and flew their starships out towards the stars. Millions of years had passed since the Draconians left their world and settled among the stars.

In those millions of years, their planet has become ours. And one can only wonder what will happen when the sickly pale children of the Draconians seek to reclaim the world that they left behind for the stars.