Overseas and far away from the rooted Cult of Los Angeles, but her attractive power is strong and has such a strong hold on my guts, thoughts and the like. We are in Juliaca, Peru and it is a dynamic place, but entirely foreign to the Cult of Los Angeles... I hear her moan for me, my warmth, my love for her sand and palms- those palms that stroke and choke the sensitive and soft places. That salt water that cools her coasts, where life crawled from the depths of the sea... And now, that is where I crawl back in hopes of finding god, me and the answers now frozen in secrecy. I will seduce the code from the void or I will crush it...

Alas, the devil's revenge is hence...

...End of the American Rainbow

California, end of the American rainbow and where the Cult hunts for treasure. That treasure can be measured in hot flesh, dollars, carats, power, adventure. These are the orbits most of us are pulled, willingly through, spun and bludgeoned by the by. It's ok because Mom and Dad prepared me, history and human psychology has prepared me. Thirty-five plus years of running and falling and lifting and pushing has build a ferocious entitlement. The Universe abides in the Cult of Los Angeles as do I. And together, we sing her song, sad like Coltrane, Chan Marshall, Mazzy Star...sad like the atom bomb and parents of hurt children and broken hearts. But, there is a joy and it is powerful, the counterpoint to our collective suffering. And it has enough heat and cheer to bring the World to boil.

I'll follow the way of the songbirds, the love birds, birds of prey and birds of paradise. Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. I am Immortal, Full of Joy, and Wield an All Holy Fervor... in the Cult of Los Angeles!

I Am Immortal

Far away from Los Angeles, but the Cult still abides and crackles with the hot sparks and stars it produces and consumes... Far away from the lights and action, the delicious sensations and numbnesses alike... I sit in a hotel room in Peru doing my damndest to sublimate time to wealth. I'll be sure to let you know if that happens and how. For now, I will creep, belly low and inching along the bottomed plane, toward the light, toward the shade- the Western night with ornate glades.

Thank-you Mom. Thank-you Dad. I am immortal! I am immortal!

Valkyries and Violins

I come on the backs of Valkyries and Violins- fierce beasts of flight and wrath- superstrings of yesterday and tomorrow, of a love that shall not ever cease... Thank-you Mom!

The test of life is everyday. I test this feature of context and of my words and writings... Work, work, work...

the calm of fuckery...

drunk off of pressure and stress until the calm of fuckery sweats through an emotional pituitary...

i'm growing fatigued with this road and the buzz of nervous anxiety constantly pressing the flesh, this flesh of the World of mine- this brown organ, porous and vascular,

i love thee... protect me from the outside, it's chill and chaos. my mom and dad wove this skin of reality of the World and mine- this crowned lord, for us, for ever more...