Never allow anyone the luxury of assuming that because the dead and deadening scenery of the American city-of-dreadful-night is so utterly devoid of mystery, so thoroughly flat-footed, sterile and infantile, so burdened with the illusory gloss of “baseball-hot dogs-apple pie-and-Chevrolet” that it is somehow outside the psycho-sexual domain. The eternal pagan psychodrama is escalated under these “modern” conditions precisely because sorcery is not what twentieth-century man can accept as real.
–James Shelby Downard, “King Kill 33”
That’s right, Butterfly Language fans: I’m at the point where I’m quoting Downard.
I first want to apologize to everyone that I haven’t posted that much lately. Especially to my Patreon patrons, who I feel I need to message separately when my Internet comes back on (in theory) 4 days from now.
My life, the last year…the last two years…the last six years…has been WEIRD.
I blame this all on the most available pharmakós possible—2012.
Yep, I’m taking no responsibility for this whatsoever…OK, I am taking responsibility. I’m taking responsibility to the extent that I think I always used humor and irony (which, we will remember, is literally my Mom’s first name) to distance myself from shit.
RAW did this too. He did. Not a criticism—just an observation. (It’s an underlying theme in Cosmic Trigger I)
But…I just found myself in the middle of some really WEIRD shit. Not bad shit, mind you. Just WEIRD SHIT. That I feel…I somehow “manifested”—or if not that, at least “anticipated.”
It’s like that post I did about the “Upgrade.” There are certain periods of my life where I feel I’m getting this upgrade…where my capacity to learn and adapt to change massively increases. And that’s where I’m at.
Like…just in terms of Comics. From the age of literally two—I loved reading superhero comics. And my only goal was to eventually work in the comics industry. And then I worked in the comics industry…I worked for DC and Marvel and etc….and I then HATED comic books and never wanted to see them again.
But since May…I’ve read an INTENSE # of comics. Especially old comics I had really adored some faraway era ago.
And so all this stuff floods back, what is it/what is it…?%^*%*&%&*
So what do I do now, friends?
Well, I have a purchased train ticket—an actual room in a goddamn train—to go see my Mom and & Sis in Florida. This will be two weeks from now.
And so…I guess the journey goes on.
What was I studying the last few weeks? Um. Manson.
That was part of it. It was sort of like…Manson was an asshole, but he wasn’t directly responsible for the Sharon Tate killings. Hollywood and the music industry were actively using the services of Manson and his drug/prostitution connections. More than that, they were using Manson as sort of a “dancing monkey” for their own amusement at parties, so they felt all edgy. But when the Tate murders happened…that threatened to expose that connection. And so a “mythology” was built surrounding Charles Manson on behalf of the media & the prosecutors.
So I give credit where credit is due…a lot of this I culled from Neil Sanders. But I find his theories related to Manson plausible, and pretty balanced. He’s certainly not looking to suck Manson’s dick, which is a plus.
It goes so far as that peeps for the Beach Boys—and Dennis Wilson was pretty tight with Manson—tried to build the mythology of “Helter Skelter” in order to blame the Beatles for everything. Which is pretty intriguing, don’t you think? And mildly plausible!
How do you feel that an ex-convict can get out of jail and go find a rocket scientist’s children out in the garbage can. “Go home.” “I can’t, my mother, my father won’t let me. They hate me.” I’m responsible for your children? You won’t be responsible for…How do you feel about those murders? How do you feel about them? That’s what counts. It happened in your world, not in mine. Not in my circle, because I wouldn’t allow it.
True? False? The words of a consummate BS artist?
d) All of the above?
I dunnow, folks. I do feel rather strongly that Quentin Tarantino has fetishized the Tate killings to the point where his new movie is kind of like a “celluloid ritual”…and further, that at least subconsciously he clearly sees the current state of Hollywood—with their flirtations with various “Mansons”—as an allegory.
But what do I know?
About two years ago…I was at the gym and really serious, you know? And…I was doing a lot of weight lifting. Because I guess in the back of my mind…I always wanted to be like my dad, who was an amateur bodybuilder and looked like a pro wrestler.
No bullshit, my dad had a physique like these guys (including the tan):
And so I would reach a certain plateau with the weight lifting, and then eagerly go to the next plateau, and the next plateau…
Because I wanted to be like **my dad**.
And then like I “tore” my entire left side. And it hurt…for almost a full year. And I was out of the gym.
Because…I wasn’t exercising per my specific body-type.
And so: now I know that now.
And I’m cool with it.
I will try to write more.
Peace and chicken grease.