July 2023 - 2

 Diary 29

July 20, 2023

I understand today why people have to die. The world is balanced. But people themselves are not. No one world, one personal, individual world, is balanced. Mine especially; it's very particular. Many people (whom I know) are very particular. This has to do with complexity.

My world is very heavy, very thorough & stuck on thoughts. But my mind/world is also very powerful/forceful.

People must come and go so that the world overall remains balanced. Most people are inconsequential and not very complex, in their schema – it fits in well with other people and the world. People like N are very particular and complex – and thus unbalanced. And I am, too; my thoughts have a very distinct vibe.

~

We awoke and I brushed my teeth by the grass. I looked at the rapids in the daylight. N got up soon after and we each kind of meandered around the area, checking it out. At one point he'd disappeared for minutes and I panicked that we'd been followed and he'd been “disappeared”. Already I was feeling, absorbing, the above-realm encasing all he'd been talking about. But he soon emerged from a trailhead and we packed up and drove over the bridge into the forest as it looked like it was about to rain.

In the forest we got to a road closure and N wanted to look at it: the road had just broken and fallen into the ground below, leaving a ~10ft gap in the road. It looked like there had been a landslide that had pushed all the ground aside, forming a makeshift river.

There it was indeed a little different, with its small wooden churches and colonial homes. N said he could see himself here, and I joked that, among the reasons he listed, it had the highest national average IQ, a fact he'd mentioned earlier (“hey... let's not connect all the dots”). He just wants to be alone among autists... an autist's dream, really.

There were some low lying clouds skirting around the basis of hills and mountains – a beautiful, quiet sight. It was quiet here. And far greener than the coast.

Next was the daunting task of driving across the vast expanse of Upstate New York. Off the highway, it looked desolate. It felt, energetically, spiritually, like a no man's land: not northeastern, not midwestern, in the shadow of Canada. Very liminal, hard to leave, to get anywhere.

It felt like people were very to themselves and not neighborly, for some reason. It felt lonely, run down, like a lot where people litter (though no litter was visible. Earlier when I'd driven through Endicott I felt this as well).

We stopped in Rochester. Overlooking the High Falls: at the base of the waterfall, on one side is the weathered stone base of a building where there's an arch in and an arch out, so that it forms a little gravelly hideaway one could dock a kayak out to sit on the small rocky patch of ground where surely many a homeless druggie and maybe romantic venture have been. On the other side was the wall of a brick building, maybe an underground parking lot: you could dimly see a single car in there, through the glassless opening, and nothing else but abandoned darkness. To the left of that still was another large red brick wall with a large circular hole in the middle of it, and no way to get to it. I speculated on an underground tunnel system. We chugged a beer each, overlooking this, and (at least it seemed to me) both liked Rochester. This is where I imagined that after the trip we'd move in together and maybe move to Rochester. We were taking this trip to see where we could live together (I slipped into this fantasy so seamlessly. I'd lost my job in preparation of our life together and my having ease in making the transition. It was, in fact, preparation for yet another near-total breakdown, though I think I'm doing better at holding on and rebuilding from shattered expectations this time around). 

I so easily let N take over and... it doesn't matter. The hit is over. All I must do is finish writing it down and move on. He doesn't want to be with me just as I didn't want to be with W even though I love N really and W loved me really. Love is not for me. I always must make contracts with myself: not until my perception is expanded, or returned to a time I lived more in the present and relished in my beautiful daydreams, lived in a beautiful populated world of my own creation rather than trying to escape it. Paint in pain. I must change (back). Somewhere in New York we stopped at a large rest stop to get some food and I didn't get much but N offered me some fries. He was preoccupied by a text from a friend. He lamented being the “boring” sensible person to the charismatic, impractical, Don't-Tread-on-Me friend (N is anything but boring (it's not that I couldn't appreciate W; I was so overwhelmed by his emotions for me, he so wanted it, that I couldn't even see him. Either he must truly be moving on or I am really lonely and moving on myself from N, but now I start to pay attention to his essence (or what I make out his essence to be in my imagination. You have to always remain in the middle. Never going into “tomorrow”. Tomorrow really is a disease, and it's very painful to be alive and live disease-free. That disease is a numbing cream, a cope, one of the grandest copes. When we ended up at my place I mentioned to N at one point that “I'm a little OCD about my stuff” and he sort of made a face and went “yeah” under his breath (our standards for living spaces are very different, but honestly, after cleaning the apartment of a gamer man today, a man whose apartment indicates that he's settled in his life (even my diary cannot hold the changing ways of my thought now.

I'm in between. Now I understand. It's this world that dies. This bar. This music. All marketing, all graphic design, is for the impermanent world (incorporate into MM). (There's the impermanent world (where most of us are, where the true human resides), the kaleidoscopic world in other words, where people must die and be born, and the permanent world, above the void, where is Agartha, among many other things → a “hero's journey”: crossing from the impermanent to the permanent world. How do you get to Agartha? Ha ha ha)). But N's indicates also a man on a mission. No gaming chair. No gaming setup. Just a very old laptop.). After all, he'd seen me obsessively organize all my things early morningt. (Something like Legally Blonde, the effort of collaborative art, can become of the permanent world, is a sort of bid to be taken up into it – like Spongebob for sure. But not like a lot of music. Folk songs, perhaps? Most people are dead, or never living, or rather, impermanent: even some of the most beautiful souls.

Myths of a god and mortal being in love = this God of Stars + the human girl. Maybe he attempts to make her permanent. (“I would like you to be permanent,” he said after he kissed her. She would never forget it, lying back on her bed in the orphanage, the black walls speaking once again.

(the beauty of “life” in the permanent world (life isn't even a reality there; neither life nor birth nor death) is in how coordinated it is, how symphonically orchestrated. The world of Spongebob is orchestrated through Bikini Bottom (organizing principle); Legally Blonde is as well. All true art is like this, I think. “Human” art is about the human world, commentary on it (however heartfelt). In Spongebob, Legally Blonde, everything exists in relation to everything else, to every other element. In the human world, the impermanent world, this intelligence is not required; there is chaos, imbalance; people are sleeping (in the Gurdjieff sense), and act not necessarily in relation to other people, but have disorganized, impulsive desires).)

The orphanage – from the lowest one can attain to the gods; only a person who has nothing, is not immersed in the human world, but is in between....).

My brain is too fried and dumb to tell a qualitative difference between people. The only indication that someone is a little different is that I keep looking at them.

I said the external organization is to make up for internal disorganization.

“The oldest cope”, he said. Or one of them.

But an older cope, I now realize, or maybe not older but on the same level, or deeper, is “tomorrow”.).

I gave him a response to text back, which he did. It might have been too snarky, but we laughed.

(I never would have had these thoughts alone at my apartment in Hampstead. I really should try to move out to near Frederick, make it my base; the youthful energy sustains me).

(Tomorrow is a numbing cream; nothing more. One moment you're here; the next you're not. That's not even really relegated to a yesterday, a today, a tomorrow).

I didn't realize that, per my suggestion the day before, he was trying to drive through the night. I became very uncertain and skeptical and paranoid, and let my bad mood show. This was one of the worst parts of the trip. When we stopped at a gas station (and he very kindly filled up), I put my hand on his arm while the gas filled; I didn't fully feel then how he was frozen, but he just stood still and motionless and unreactive.

When I had descended from my bad moon I think I put on Blue Jam again. We didn't talk about it.

July 16, 2023

I think from here on out I had made peace with this not being a romantic trip and decided to curb my expectations and remain in the air. N was still very strange to me.

• I get fixated on connections and build my world from them. Theme: got to accept that most very deep connections come and go. Jam-like skit where God visits or you find, paradise, or hell, and then it just goes away, fades in and out. But not as a written and recorded thing – as a live broadcast. And in a nightmare scenario, one nightmare scenario keeps coming back. Oh the difference between an atmospheric, coordinated show and elevator music, ignorable background music. I can focus on anything. Or I can unfocus (thus focusing on my self), step back from it (let it go).

Past

The drive went through a very big and nice, long park, with a large stone archway. N commented on how much old and stone architecture there is in the midwest.

It was an unpretentious, somewhat forlorn place, full of people who were kind, simple, but a little weathered. It felt very laid back, and very different from Columbus. Cleveland is a quintessence of the Midwest. I think a lot of it has to do with its history of being the point alcohol was smuggled into the US through during the prohibition. It's easy enough to get around in. I liked how I felt there. We got breakfast at a diner, which is the majority of where I saw those kind, warm, laid-back people, half of them white, half of them black – all worn down. This homogenized and bonded them into one unified American-Midwestern identity, in my estimation. We didn't walk along the waterfront but we drove down to it, to an industrial/hip area to find a coffee shop to work out of. There were 3 men next to us, business school types with fades that, to me, emphasized how different from the others N is. He's not usually “in public”. I didn't really realize this until now. They discussed a business deal and later in the car we talked about how bizarre they sounded, just going through a script, throwing out every possible buzzword, that meant nothing. A sore spot for N, who can't seem to really function in the world of men save for with a few people.

I was still vacillating between “we're on our way to dating” and “this fantasy is a bubble about to pop” and this bubble seemed about to really pop. I confronted him, saying I wasn't sure what was going on and was feeling used. He (he must have been hurt by this. I was so under the influence of my feelings that colored my landscape like a dark, brief storm) immediately clammed up and shut down and mumbled that he didn't mean to make me feel that way. He didn't say much else (wisely) and I calmed down soon. I must have been able to slip back into the bubble of a dream world, suspended world.

Present

I was looking around at people all day. Seeing how I could identify interesting ones, how I could distinguish them. She was one who caught my eye: ethereal. I think she's a nonsleeper for sure. Nobody reacted to her performing; a bad audience. But she danced around reminding me a bit of when Letov moved around jerkily on stage. No one really cares to put on a show. The next act didn't dress up or anything, and the two guys' music had the effect of elevator music (though later it got better). I think they were the act Sunniva. On bandcamp their music is good.

Later Lizzy went to get a drink by where I'd left this journal at the bar, so I hurried back to my chair and told her I liked her show, and that they needed a cave or something, or a club (she seemed confused by my cave comment for a moment). Her face up close really struck me: some people's faces are made in much finer detail, full of golden ratios and no features that can be caricatured – if you draw one part you must draw the whole thing at the same time. It seemed fine, that's the defining character: fine features, delicate. She's one of the blessed beautiful people.

I had the thought N would like her, because I think he wants a starlet, a star, a magical woman (I think I am just someone who is cursed to see magic, but not be it; cursed to have it brush my art and leave. Again my words are powerful self-traps.

Past

Many strange people, weirdos in this world, and fewer good and normal people than you think. Many potentially normal people who do and say strange things (the man who told me the hat probably belonged to someone who died). They're not really normal – they're not anyone. Any influence can pass through them and take them.

We continued driving west, watching the land get flatter. Around 2pm, a corner of the sky (south/southwest) appeared unusually dark for that time, but no weather was present. N wondered if it was the residue from the toxic train derailment back in February. The direction would have been correct.

current

Is she someone N would have hoped to find? An autistic virgin? Was he also not tempted because no one is genius enough for him?

K posted about Carolyn Bessette and N F. Kennedy, Jr. being relationship goals. Carolyn Bessette, though middle class, was an “it” girl, one of the beautiful people; undeniable natural aristocracy. Tall, statuesque, blonde (though dyed).

Is this what N is hoping for? Someone tall and statuesque? A natural beauty; a kind heart and soul aren't enough. Someone like Angel Olsen – too “human”. Not magical. I think I'm a half-breed....

N doesn't see me as his princess. I will never be happy with him. And anyway it feels he's cut me out, so what's there to do? I must cut him out too, let him find his tall ethereal virginal high IQ autist Russian princess, and let me regret not being that, having wasted my potential on lesser men because I didn't think enough.

Past

N had introduced me earlier to Aajonus Vonderplanitz and sv3rige on YouTube, and the doctrine of raw meat. We went to the Trader Joe's next door and he bought some raw steak and eggs; I bought fruit and nuts and dried mango (“as you wish”). N offered me some cubes of beef. It was flavorless, not bad. There was something very erotic about eating raw meat, but I didn't say this. In the morning he had 6 raw eggs I believe. I had three. I couldn't swallow them, and separated the yolk so as not to drink the whites and poop immediately. But I had to break the yolk and drink it that way. A little more gross than the meat.

Current

I'm down so bad that every thought and development sends me spinning – no stability in my life. My resources are fast dwindling to zero.

I should be grateful for every little (and not to little) thing I have.

I think Ethel Cain is an industry plant from the start, the replacement Lana, who fundamentally sings ballads but is here to define what “alt femininity” is and sings these ballads in a revamped, more ethereal, high-production lo-fidelity sound and aesthetic that's fundamentally pre-owned.

Past

We made a pilgrimage to E. Michael Jones' house. N wanted to call him and make sure it was a physical bookstore, but didn't want it to be from his number, and tried to get me to do it. Not that I cared about being associated with E. Michael Jones, but I didn't appreciate being manipulated, and this compounded my feeling of being used for my car, time, energy, and, worst of all, romantic feelings. I got very mad and very passive aggressive, trying not to say anything rude yet refusing to make the call. N sounded fed up and annoyed himself when he said, “I don't understand what the problem is.”

It might have been here that I reached the point of seeing that I was using him for my own agenda as much as he was using me for his, only our agendas were, to my disappointment, mismatched, he was more abreast of the dynamic's balance, and was successful in his aims while I wasn't. And I kind of accepted it and calmed down. I think this was the last quibble we had, until the last day.

He'd said at one point that he considered this a sort of “end of the world” tour. Indeed you could say that twitter ended right after our trip – it's become X, and nearly unusable anymore as a platform to meet new people and get new information. I did eventually call and leave a voicemail for E. Michael Jones' wife.

current

Ax introduced me to Ethel Cain. She said that Ethel Cain is who LDR wishes she was. Do the math: Lana is old. People in youtube comments (also not doing the math) are saying Ethel has Lana vibes/influences. None of this is a coincidence. Their song structures are the same. However – Ethel Cain is not ahead of her time like Lana's aesthetic was. Nobody needs to catch up to her; it's evident/understood what she is. She's the new Lana, packaged and sold to zoomers, with a slightly updated, even more “real” vibe. Then there are the “sincere girls”: Weyes Blood and Angel Olsen. A type for everyone. We're living in a kpop group and nobody sees it anymore.

I wouldn't classify myself as one of the beautiful, star-kissed people. We all know who they are when we see them (and we fall for very convincing actors sometimes. It's all written in the face, but you have to study up close sometimes. Some people can appear beautiful at first sight but if you study them, they either are plain, or they start to fall apart, the wholeness of their features begins to break down into parts (Julia Roberts). Sometimes apparent freaks can, upon close inspection, turn out to be beautiful and balanced (Adam Driver is a good example of this; he only appears to look ugly or strange). It's something about the lines from the eyes to the nose to the mouth and between the eyes. Audrey Hepburn – appears and is God-sculpted). I wouldn't classify myself as totally of Earth either. I think it's my duty to say what people don't want to hear. To be a “hater”, even if it means a hater of everything. Somebody has to, or the world drowns in its bullshit, in appearances.

There's something that feels more honest if I admit it to myself: I don't really want N. I want the fantasy of him. I want the magical fantasy I met him through to be real.

He is not mine. I don't own him. As far as marriage, a life partner, I think I need someone older, softer, more secure in himself. Like 39 or 40. That gives me hope (the idea of someone who could take care of me). And if after a while of striking out in the world N will find a nice younger girl who fits into his new schema, his new self and life, a girl who doesn't make him feel pressure or like a mother is watching, who can let him be as beautiful as he is freely, then I would be happy for him. I want to be happy for him. I want to feel permanently the iron casing of my heart's grip unfreeze and let go of the butterfly. I don't want to give up, though, I don't want to settle into a “normal” life; I want to keep trying, finish the threads (it's destroying me – the truth is the more I practice whatever the better I get. I just have so many of them – music, writing, drawing – and they all need to be obliged.) And I don't want to lose the thought I found through N. I would ever be resentful if I found some lovely older man who was in the arts and who fell for me.

~

The horrors I've done to myself in my life, simply by being kind of dumb. I wish someone had just told me to stay on track.

I can't think too much about this, about having ruined my life. I still have much to offer the world artistically. I wish I'd never had sex with most of the men I have. Actually I can't think of one. Nearly all the sex I've had had been usury. N is so smart; I wish I had been like him. I wish I'd just been smart enough to remove myself from Ss's presence, to not wear the rose colored glasses when looking at him (or any man). I really don't deserve it (him), considering that I shouldn't have had most of my relationships, and have been careless with them. Ay is not careless. Men, in general, are more strict with inner rules. I … I just went along. I regret that nobody taught me otherwise, that nobody sat me down and instilled in me rules for going about relationships. They all thought I was a good girl, but I was so easily swayed in any direction, and able to use people to satisfy my own curiosities and allay fears of lacking experience. But I never focused on the right things, which was mastery in some field, any field, that I would have enjoyed or thrived in.

I shouldn't even be thinking of myself at all, of marriage, of my personal wants. Once again and always this is the greatest obstacle, the greatest immaturity, akin to my mother. I must take stock of who and what I am, but it's a horrible reality.

 

July 21, 2023

I feel more normal and renewed today. I think I can build, rebuild a life.

I've been working through taskrabbit, cleaning, organizing, yardwork (tomorrow). I relish being independent more than anything, working at my own schedule and for no one. I need a life just to have something to talk about. To have something for N to find me in (save me from). It I could do the cleaning and private tutoring, I think I'd be set, at least for a little while. Second to independence in life is variety – of people to talk to, of movement. I feel a little hopeful from this development, I should move to Frederick. This makes the most sense, and there are “signs of life” here. So what if I'll be in the “liberal milieu”? I need to keep one foot in the real-time world. Strike “liberal” from our worldview; it's an outdated concept. Most people are conforming to the jobs that allow them to stay alive – that's why “lib” places feel bursting with the energy of youth, and “redpilled” places like Hampstead and Hanover are stagnant.

MM

Interloper & Tress come to a new place (vertical world), he leads her there then leaves her

~

The only people who cared about B have been a few

~

Counterintuitively: time only exists at birth (the time we're given); doesn't exist in life; is reversed, undone, at the moment of death.

Time & Infinity

July 23, 2023

Feel very alone now. Fall is coming on. All I can hear is the distant sounds through emptiness, planes, blowing winds. State last night:

• I'm accepting my aloneness. I feel like there's nobody here where I am, in my world. Only reflections of people sometimes (Again this is the strength of my thought in modeling my personal reality; it too is a passing state).

• There's no one who has my vision (artistic vision, perspective – even though someone like N is “deeper”, has slower, deeper thought. Away from him I start to forget the feeling of not being good enough). I have to get my vision out. Shouldn't care about what others think of my personality – all that matters is what I put out, that I put it out.

• This isn't the path I wanted – marriage, love would be a blessing, but are not my path/mission, not within my control.

• What I'd put out now is very anti the latest thing; all the pseudo-based covid deniers are, it turns out, my natural enemies, because they're the new establishment; though, because there's no longer a monoculture, they wont be effective. The cultural boundaries are constantly breaking, alliances constantly shifting and reforming.

It feels like after these shifting sands there's no one in my worldview anymore

But this morning I don't feel this. States of sharp aloneness – they pass through. All states pass through and aloneness purifies if you let it be. Only now do I feel myself becoming normal from B's death. No more contact with her family. Things are changing slowly, I have to make a good life for myself.

I don't know why I got so into N. I fell into such an illusion with him, his persona. And I can't know what the consequences of this will be for him, or for me. Probably not the fulfillment of my heart's desire. That really – that inner lore, its state and shape and orientation to itself – doesn't depend on me. The core changed. It can lessen, tighten, alters the way my personal reality springs from it in doing so. Reality that's always around you is so wide.

When I told N what had happened with B he said (prefaced with, he wanted to say something about Jesus but didn't want to offend. I said no please do): “just that he came here knowing it to be a realm of suffering and sacrifice.”

I've been listening to the New Testament on YouTube while driving to and fro cleaning and gardening gigs in Virginia and MoCo. On Acts and realize only by the sacrifice could people have the chance to be saved or repent to realize their actions. Not to say it in the modern way of “without mistakes we can't grow”. I think it's similar to Gurdjieff's intentional suffering.

I want to own N. I want to know where he is all the time, what he's doing. Every correspondence I half expect a goodbye note or, more surely, a slow fade from him. I fear I'll have to settle for a nice man I'll resent in order to have life with someone. I felt N as a teacher, briefly in the car; that he could lead the way for me and I would follow. But he doesn't seem to want me.

Keeping busy has helped get my mind off. I have to accept being alone. More than that I have to change my inner orientation toward relationships, and stop trying to control him at all, to be above him, to be first. I have to not be independent, yet be alone.

I'm in my realm only – the kept woman's realm. Making my work in my personal garden (where nobody is). I just have to forget him. The more I try, the more he is always on my mind like a stain. It won't be forever. Most likely. Like W with me. So I just accept this moment and my desirous wants with it.

I feel guilty now putting all my want on him, upon him. Life is much vaster than my beautiful daydream.

July 24, 2023

It doesn't feel like love is going to happen with N. He gives me almost nothing, crumbs of his time, effort, and attention. He doesn't let it happen. There are many I also wouldn't let it happen with due to something in the foundation of the situation being off for me.

B looked at her happiest with her ex in the middle of their relationship. She appeared on the up, with a bright and adventurous, life-loving soul. I think her health and stability never recovered after their breakup, and all her energy went into her pets, which of course it a mistake because, even though they're household members, they're fundamentally leeches [9/4/23 I can't stand to read my thoughts from this time, so poisoned by RW twitter. It takes a long time to recover from blows, it's not really within our control – B was slow to recover as I am slow to recover from this time in 2023. what is the point of hating animals? This is a stain on the soul. To deride any living thing. This is the only guidance] (or, very rarely, as was I think the case with Dusya, familiars. She never got in my way, she never got underfoot (sometimes she would lay on paper I needed. That's it), she was always next to me, like a shadow or assistant). 

Can I say that B's misery and trial was bad for her? Maybe her soul became softer, deeper, despite outer life.

It's a world of nascent souls, mostly. A soul can grow a lot in a life. This growth is one of fineness and subtlety, nuance, widening and deepening in considering existence. Beauty is misleading in this way. Beauty is also of the world, a signifier of wealth, youth, abundance, earthly supremacy. Once again the cult of Ishtar, the dominance of might and strength over Earth, the strong ruling over the weak (and meek).

I think I do have faith, actually … naturally, by way of being a gentle person and valuing the same.

The more I think about Christ and Christianity the more sense everything makes. I don't think the way my own opinions/worldview form through contemplation are incompatible with it; it orders them, makes them make sense. The more I listen to the New Testament and think about it the more it seems like urgency. Christ came to shake us from complacency and in his coming brought a huge responsibility/task upon us [9/5/24 I don't think any of this anymore] – we must either acknowledge him (and what is good; gentleness, meekness, not abusing others for personal gain [9/5/24 yeah definitely not a self-help doctrine, as it was rewritten to be] – love, and the supremacy of the small person's way) or we perish. This is so because he came; because he walked this Earth as a man, and took up the path of man (and proved God was also a man) (there must have been something worthy about humanity, something in the core of man, worth saving, to call him own, to get him to visit and mask, to do this [9/5/24 oh my God]). If he hadn't there's be nothing to prove; the good would be fighting in darkness, in secret.

There is obviously a longer tradition that predated him that he is affiliated with. This is evident just from the part of John the Baptist. (The Essenes? On the level of the Invisible Hand.

The Invisible Hands.

The right hand and left hand paths. And the Hamza hand, a neutral one? The path to seeing the truth, through the fighting forces. Those who only see, and record:

Both paths are valid, that is, both stand next to the Creator (the void; both are ways in relation to the conceptless).

One must choose.

This is why they always say there are three doors.

[9/5/24 3 is binding: if you have 4, you have 5, 6, infinity. You've escaped]

In his coming down to Earth, the saving of man was decided. It set Earth, humanity, on a path, a destiny, a mission. Those on the left hand path seek to undo this truth, the truth about judgment he brings, that all will be destroyed in the fire. That is their mission. To undo Christ. As he is the upturning of the order of might and the usage of God's laws for personal gain at the expense of other life (a heartless reading of reality's rules) – as it's already a rule that life must be destroyed to sustain life.

But Jesus changed the face of the whole Earth by his being here, being the strength of God.

N asked me if the situation with B was shaking my faith (not to be presumptuous about “your beliefs”). It isn't. If anything, the opposite. All we can know is the living. And so it was said, God is the living God. This Earth is for the living.

The infinity of life is larger than the infinities of birth and death (which are infinite time [condensed into an instant]. In life there is no time – there is pure potential of all manifestation and concept). And is there something beyond this? Those are other realms....

this is a fallen world and I am a fallen person, carrying a perfect dream of perfect marriage/union. I know it's a fallen world because of what happened to B, and the sacrificial purpose she served. The sacrifice of unrealized dreams and potential. It's one path, on Earth, to realize your potential. But it's a dangerous path because it's so entwined with power, potentially. I'm only starting to see with the naked eye that there's more in reality than realizing one's potential, that there are other structures to fates/souls/life paths that also serve a purpose, that realization is only one purpose. Understanding is perhaps more important than realization/manifestation [9/5/24 no, it's all realization and the filling out of the self – but this includes understanding, manifestation or not, so on].

I'm a fallen person because I was in such ignorance in previous relationships (despite my dream being about relationships) and still am.

 

July25, 2023

Drinking cow's blood seems very unclean and pagan to me – because of the power of blood, as well as it being a river of toxins. Almost as if, the blood of what you drink is what you become – you take in its essence. You take in the essence of a cow, and metals. Blood is not liver, not meat. A bigger difference (again, just my gut belief) between drinking the blood of Christ or a saint and that of an animal, and eating the flesh of each kind. Blood amplifies. Flesh stores potential energy. Blood contains resonators (?).

past

We were kind of disgusting hippies. I tried not to be. I guess N did, too. We were living on the outside. Nobody bothered us. It was very natural for me. For N, I'm not sure. He can adjust to anything, or at least pretend to. He's wholly spontaneous, unplanned, the most fun thing about him.

In the morning on the way out we had breakfast at a little hole-in-the-wall diner I found, where I had biscuits and gravy for the first, maybe last, time, and got to bear witness to a type of person, American, that is disappearing from modern life and can only be found in small midwestern towns. The living relics of a more ancient America – old, Germanic, salt of the Earth, beady-eyed, country wisdom-filled souls whose essences hold together the fabric of a disappearing world soon to be replaced by Indian immigrants who will be piled into St. Louis.

West St. Louis is a hellscape. I will never forget the impression. It was like a crater had been left – a spiritual crater from the complete bombing of the culture that once used to reside there – and in its place, a suburban/country sprawl of beige, almost completely empty strip malls.

St. Louis was a fairly big city and we first drove through downtown, unsuccessfully looking for parking. A few people were out and about on their way to a game, but it was mostly empty, even downtown. Driving west, it became entirely empty, but filled with a densely packed sprawl of soulless looking office buildings, hospitals, garages, and … that's about it. There was a park following university city (the heart of the soulless vacant concrete jungle), and some relatively nice houses, but who lived there? There seemed to be no one there.

The sprawl continued, interminably, just like a sea, thinning out slowly but becoming more replete with defense contractors, ugly plastic new housing developments, and the strip malls they (didn't) shop at. It was hell, and endless, and it all seemed so new; it felt like St. Louis had been spiritually cratered and replaced with this hollow facsimile, and now we were driving through this culture-voided crater that seemed like it would be difficult to get out of if you were born into it. N said people from here might be more hardworking, precisely because they'd have to work harder to get out. We wondered of the demographics – but they turned out to be mostly white, and not Indian, though Indian motel owners are everywhere, and who do you think this new housing if for, anyway? (future Indian immigrants).

While N was in the shower, E. Michael Jones' wife returned my message and I asked about t-shirts, and suggested it might be a popular item, if they made it.

At times N seemed very mentally aloof and removed, above the entire fray/situations – most notably when we visited something. But at other times he seemed like just a guy, weighed down by his body. As if it were two distinct selves or modes. As if he were trying to keep something up but, by the end of the trip, had run out of steam, of resources, and was very tired.

Present

N had sent me a playlist for The Soul After Death. I don't think my own experiences with B, or with Ai's birth, contradict it. It also puts my other experiences into a framework that, as it says in chapter 10, is the only adequate answer to what happens to the soul after death.

I agree with this so far and with having the full Christian doctrine be important. A weapon of knowledge and perspective, a large kernel of objective reality.

It is a war – with the occult powers deteriorating Christianity/the Christian doctrine successfully these days. I haven't had any “mystical” experiences like I did at ~25 in a while, and I don't miss them. I don't miss the invisible forest. I think that was contact with the bardo plane/spirit world.

It's very seductive and it's foolish to pretend that it's not mystical and beautiful – but it's not logical. It's the opposite – seduction by dream logic.

This makes sense, for the Bardo Realm/Astral plane to be free of logic, by cosmic design, by “vibrational laws” (?) - it's a nullifying realm, it frees you from earthly logic. A place to pass through before the higher logic. It's therefore easy to get stuck here, be seduced by it, thinking this is the be all end all.

This tracks with the Orthodox Christian doctrine I heard in Soul After Death, which says that man cannot perceive the spiritual realm except by an act of God (we might think God is “what's of finer perception an power than us”, but this includes many beings, so no wonder demons and fallen angels become our God).

People do not, maybe cannot, know what's beyond the Bardo Realm, if they get in contact with it. Without having the structure of reality in mind, contact with that realm can feel very spiritual. But if you have a grain of Truth in you [9/5/24 dear God this is dribble] (for me it was the dream of perfect love with my other half), eventually its charms will let you go because you never find what you seek – you only get seduced and distracted, see many wonderful images but come out tired and worn down in the end. This is why the castle in TIF can never be.

Past

I think I understand – he had entered my world, for want of experiencing it. My “road-tripping” ways I'd told him about much earlier, with living on the boat and out of my car. And he adjusted to it, maybe even fully gave himself over to it … except he also had to take the lead and, very naturally, my own self-dominance fell away to his lead … which was based on my ways. But it's a sustained effort. Maybe it was difficult to sustain. My world only comes to life when there's someone to see it. Otherwise, there is emptiness in me, or rather, listlessness. My own fault, for my mind not being flexible or expanded enough to see.

~

I couldn't help but be awed by N's body and tried not to look at him too much. I felt, in the presence of him at his work, that he was uneasy at my bearing witness to his most private inner sanctum – the way his mind looks, externalized.

We are both very private but he may be more so, or I wanted to share my inner world with him far more than the reverse was true. (he said what white people/westerners should approach spirituality as more of a mission-based pursuit rather than in the eastern way of directionless self-development, which can become neurotic for them).

He was on some sort of reconnaissance mission with me and had no problem retreating back into the darkness, into aloneness, once it was over.

A clear memory in my mind of looking at his back as he bent over his papers on the edge of his bed, and I see a dark figure by a rain-splattered window engrossed deeply in his solitary world, stalking the catacombs of a lonely and mysterious terrain of American lies, and deception, and history, and occult intrigue in which the savior is Christ, the only light.

Maybe I can see his inner world, if I concentrate without want or pull. What is there in it for my personal vision, my desires? We are vast worlds colliding.

Neither of us could get much work done in this state of intensity and unintentional, incidental, lack of privacy. Each man needs his own office.

July 27, 2023

past

We drove to a chemical plant, the Afton Chemical Corp., on Monsanto Ave, just across the river and the real beating heart of St. Louis. The industrial scenery here resembled the pipe screensaver for Windows from the 90s and 2000s, something we laughed about.

Then we drove through the St. Louis ghetto, with N later commenting that he tried not to fully stop at any of the stop signs. During the moment, though, he remained very calm and stoic, completely unreactive. I could only assume his nervousness. [9/5/24 I didn't praise him enough for all he did].

Present

You can't see God [9/5/24 I need to stop talking about God] – you can see him reflected or emanating or singing through life, the kernels that belong to him which are encased in the conscience, imagination, kindness, purity of relations and even forms. The world is fallen, but it is never pitch black. And as long as the world exists, it will contain a kernel of holiness, even if it sings and dances alone. It has no choice but to do so. Choice is only of the ego – to hide or to show, to abide by it or to try and ignore it.

~

I don't think my perceptions of birth as infinite time and death as -infinite time are incompatible with the Orthodox doctrine either. It says we only get one chance – one life – death is final, no reincarnation. It makes sense that it would look like going into nothingness from this vantage point. Only the soul continues on, to a realm we can't perceive – I can perceive that it's beyond my perception, that there is a space which is completely beyond my mind's perception – and if you don't have a soul … The earthly desires and dreams' unfulfillment causes pain – this was what I felt must be understood about B. Her attitude, I did not want to be in vain. It was to vouch for her soul-on-earth. I felt her around me for a few days. Now I think I perceive that she's moved on.

We don't even need to be remembered on Earth. This is another fact to make peace with.

Past

I'd talked about Crystal City, VA, and on the way out of St. Louis we made a quick detour into Crystal City, but it was nothing like it. A town with beige stone buildings and a cave we visited, the Crystal City Underground. The caves were closed, but we went anyway, crossing the closed off pedestrian bridge into a man-made, cavernous tunnel. A young boy stood fishing off the bridge. In the blasted out cave were a couple bats, and on the other side some signs of life: someone driving a four-wheeler, some kind of work going on in the distance. No trespassing, but I was more nervous than he, as he quickly and more logically assesses a situation.

July 28, 2023

Tomorrow the cats are getting adopted, hopefully.

I got a job at the Penguin Random House warehouse. One problem temporarily solved.

My tarot deck is speaking to me. I asked: me w/ N, me w/out N.

With: 5 of pentacles – material & emotional support

clarifier: strength reversed – lack of those qualities (in me?), insecurity, forcefulness

without: death – letting go, changes, transformations

clarifier: 6 of cups reversed – living in the past, unable to live in the present. Yes that's me. I have to move on.

I can only do what I can, which is concentrating on writing, music, art. When I do concentrate, it proceeds really well, and my mind is lucid. But it's hard to concentrate.

Slowly regaining a sense of enjoying my own company and life and needing no one, of not being empty.

Why am I still holding on to a broken thread? I must explore this, maybe write a short impressionistic story, a character sketch. I've been inspired by Роман Михайлов recently – his movie, Снег, Сестра, и Росомаха, yes, but also his interview where he talks about his attitude toward movies and theater.

I need to make my inner world bigger again.

My feelings are mixed. One moment I feel such a crush on him.

Another I read our exchanges and realize that I – my presence – have highlighted his defects and inadequacies to him and he will turn and run sharply from me. He must have realized he couldn't provide for me what I wanted. He even said, “I don't think I can be what you want me to be.” I'm older... in more ways than one. It is not to be.... I'm middle aged, next to him.

 

July 29, 2023

The difference between my mind and N's is that mine is like a blank slate and N's is full of continually building information. Mine is a blank stage that forms and twists constantly the shapes and forms that fall upon it, generative of new wholes. None of the elements are already there. His is a continuous world.

~

What would be ideal for me? To have someone with me everywhere, all the time, in each scene I see? This is impossible. I cannot duplicate myself for validation (I have met the most beautiful demons, who told me, through sublime beauty, that I could … that they could). I will have to square one day with the one true constant in my life – aloneness. Whatever is on top of it, whatever is next to me, this is underneath. It's all I have – my perception. Into this goes integrity, and whatever else, whatever other qualities you use to see.

I think this may be what's behind our feeling of aloneness among others (any others, even, at times, our closest others): the awareness of this fact, which we fear, even though it's nothing to fear, because it's just a fact.

How to square with it? Slow examination/exploration of every scene of the present, living in the present. Then the world opens up. But when you're in a mission, and blocked to it, there isn't really anything you can do. People can't even touch you then. Maybe this is what happened with N.

 

Another situation came and went: at a Cafe as I sat outside writing, someone who approached caught my eye. I wasn't sure if male or female. Another trans woman … his name was D, and at some point as we talked he started talking to me and acting toward me like a man. “Fuck, you're soft,” he said when we hugged goodbye.

I see now that it's a deception, the M to F trans attempts. Because on his IG, prior to taking hormones he looked just like a normal man, bald with facial hair. And when he first came up to the patio, in a tight black tee, black pleather pants, shaved and in a thick ginger wig that I stupidly didn't recognize for a wig right away, we caught each other's eye. Intrigued, I kept looking at him. This is the mystique of men who channel feminine energy. And without doing so intentionally, he'd be just a guy I probably wouldn't have noticed. The whole trans ideology is satanic then, at its core, a perversion, because it is inherently deceptive for a man to try and channel feminine energy. It's nothing but shapeshifting. Maybe this is what E meant when he said, “It's very sneaky.”

It was a soul connection. Right away I felt safe, and comfortable, and we were in our own space. I thought he was gay, possibly in drag, but just struck by (put on) uniqueness, difference. He'd crouched down near me and I offered him the other seat at my table, naively thinking I'd write and he'd sit beside me.

No correlation between soul and outward appearance. Before D there was another guy, drunk, whom I'd been talking to, but though he seemed cool with some of the other people around, his voice was nasally and grating, something about him was very rough and coarse, and he felt like one of those people who just saps energy from you by roping you into a conversation. D's mysticism built up when he told me he was born intersex and assigned male.

It's a shame I'd have to adopt all this bullshit language before them or else be branded an enemy.

We had a deep hours-long conversation about many, many topics, a real conversation, a real encounter. I touched his soul, I know I did. It's his soul I was talking to.

Meanwhile, N and all the based men and women who are idealists – type 1s I suspect, whereas D and his ilk – type 2s, type 4s.

But the spark of masculinity emerged, and he bought me a drink, and got one of the same for himself, and when someone approached our table he began to speak for the both of us as a unit. “We didn't know what ...” and so on. He's just a man dissatisfied romantically and sexually, but given to deceptions as well. I was so attracted in kind, I wanted to bite him. But I emphasized that I was straight, monogamous, trying to take relationships more seriously than before, wanted to be married, and freely mentioned Christianity. I said being born intersex was holy. That was before I knew about his life.

“But what are you doing in the meantime?” he touched my hand.

All on the drive home I was blown away, He sent me a couple videos on instagram that I didn't fully watch; but they were heartfelt, emotional, intense. I couldn't return the intensity, for reasons of our life circumstances and my ideals being very different.

I have my work, with writing, etc. And nothing can interfere. I merely pass through. Sex isn't that important, largely a distraction.

I get through situations like these by writing them out, exploring them in a story, exploring the space around them, finding connections, and working against my tendency of making snap and final judgments about souls and minds and hearts..

Some ideas take a while to take. Yesterday I felt kind of sick inside so I ate raw meat. I'll be eating raw meat more, seeing the effects. The thought of anything cooked seemed so dead, then, so low vibration. Now to cut out sugar and beer.

Past

So hard to write about this now because of how much time has lapsed.

While waking out of the cave N said he noticed I walked very meanderingly, not in a straight path. It's the only comment he really made about me the entire time.

But I was actually paranoid then – another voice materialized back near the entrance of the cave and I was afraid we'd be interrogated or something – I was trying to figure out where the best place to exit the cave from would be. I explained all this.

In general we talked about a lot of very esoteric subjects on this trip. I would say that was the bulk of the trip, because most of our time was spent driving, listening to a lot of podcasts, music, and … now it all seems normal, and mundane, how it was – but then, and up til now, I had so spiritualized it.

Present

You can't do anything for someone on a mission except help them stay on it, and maybe help them complete it. Sometimes the best you can do is leave them alone.

It doesn't feel like B is dead. It may read like denial, but this thought didn't even enter my head until after the memorial service, when I saw a picture on my phone of her. She is very much living in my mind and memory. It merely feels a fact that I won't speak to her physically for a long time. But she, her essence... her actions (her words)... feel very real.

I've returned to Christianity through N.

 

July 30, 2023

My job is to see. To wander around the world and see it. Not to be involved in it, to have a family or career – but to be removed and maybe leave behind the relics of my sight, to be there for people in real time.

The way isolation and self-importance are bound up – I think so much of myself, every thought comes back to me. This is why my world is so small.

I have often not had any care for the world, that is my pure state, which I have tried to cure – but maybe I should have leaned into it, gone deeper into it, into solitude (as N called the other place you can go). It is a real place, a deep place. He brought me back to it. My celibate lover and celibate love.

Maybe by some miracle I will have a family, or social life/creative outward life that requires my presence – I'd still need periods of isolation. Maybe having a child would be very bad for me?

Since the first period of isolation and apathy, as a teenager, I have found there darkness, nothingness, and then, very occasionally, divine love. I did not realize what this divine love was – and its disappearance thrust me hard into the world.

I should have read the Bible then. I should have delved into Jesus. That's the only light in the darkness, the only one there for us.

When he says he is the light, the way, and the truth, it does not mean to reject some other light, way, and truth – it's not a command for respect – it's because there is nothing else. The world is run by the Whore of Babylon and if you are a seeker of truth you will turn away from it and be cast out into outer darkness – and what can you find there, if you look? Look, and ye will find. But if you don't look, or know where to, you will be in darkness. Go back and forth between darkness and the world.

I don't want Jesus to be a salve, an ultimate balm for me, a cure for my loneliness and aloneness – I don't want it to be about comfort – but this is two things: 1) my ego, refusing to be comforted, thinking it is above comfort. I am not.; 2) the cage of modernity and irony that seems like reality. But this will begin to undo the binds of this cage.

This cage is also the source of my withholding.

Why should Jesus be the cure – the only cure – for my withholding “nature”, for the emotions problems I have lifelong been plagued by?

~

It's my job to see. I can't look away.

~

There's always a Trinity. Trinity is holy structure. World – darkness – light (Jesus)

~

With regard to having a wider view of my relationships and interactions, I shouldn't see them through my desires and emotions. I don't know what effect I have on them. N brought me back to Christianity and showed me the way and sent me on it, but was this fate? That is, did he want to seem, or be, more of a Christian than he really is, and does he now have to live up to it? I once again, just like on our trip, imagine a world between us – it's automatic, that a “higher world” springs up between us, when we are in contact. Or was he, is he, hiding and only but by but revealing that he is a Christian, and disappointed in my lack of faith?

I don't think I'd be able to have a normal, fully sexual relationship (like I did before. In fact I suspect that's why they didn't work). It would drain me.

Working at the warehouse on day two made me realize how much I've been escaping from the world. One day I'll come out into the world, through work, or something – something integrated and outward, forward. But right now I can't; I'll be swallowed up into the “wrong thing” again. The job has been good for my writing – I've been able to concentrate. I turn off my mind at work. I work with the lowest of the low, the smallest, the very opposite of strivers: the true lower class. Mostly Indian and Hispanic immigrants, who are normal, if not somewhat resentful (the Indians – they're mostly middle aged), a few black people, and the white people that are largely infirm, or simply lower class.

I haven't told anyone about this job, but it's good for one thing: my working on my projects. Very good for that. It feels like the move for me.

Now he is mostly gone from me. All men are [9/6/24 why am I even thinking of all men? Where is my concentration, commitment?].  

I felt a mission completed. It is useful sometimes to divide time up like this.