Documentaries
June 3, 2008 by zedelef

I met a guy the other day who claimed he was employed by the CIA for over twenty years to make fake documentaries. It was the funniest thing. Apparently in order to keep tabs on Latin and South American countries during elections and insurrections they’d send him in with a pony tail and some Bermuda shorts and tell him to get coverage of all the main players. He told me those were the days when you could just blag your way into a coup if you had the right look. He said his angle was the casual one. To walk right in off the street stinking of grass and claiming to be super-simpatico to the cause. Apparently you could do that in the sixties. I will admit that his collection of artifacts was impressive. Lots of photos. Documents with original seals. A signed copy of Carlos Franquis’ book. With great solemnity he told me that it took him twenty years to quit because the money was so good. When I mentioned John Perkins his comments made me laugh. He painted Perkins as a teachers pet to his back of the bus kid. But they were in the same racket. When I first met him it was in an apartment off Houston that looked like Ali Babas cave. It was filled with computer parts and televisions stacked on top of each other. He was just like one of those smoking gun types constantly tinkering with technology and a old pot of chicken soup. He even served me some with some bread from Dean and Deluca that he said he’d salvaged whilst dumpster diving. Every Friday or Sunday he does it in this bright orange biochemical outfit that looks exactly like the one that Marty McFly wears when the Doc gets shot in Back To The Future Part One. When he told me that he’d washed the sour dough only half an hour previously I almost spat out my noodles. But so what, food’s food.

Exorcism
February 14, 2008 by zedelef

Last night I met a priest whose particular expertise is exorcism. I had no idea how big the business was. Apparently the man’s non stop. And he was no joke. Like Chuck Norris if Chuck Norris was a holy man. He certainly looked like he could pick a fight. He had brawlers genes. Thick wrists, thick neck. His right hand was so big it looked like a bunch of bananas. With complete solemnity he told me that possession was in principle extremely rare, and that only by completely losing ones sense of self, ones I am-ness as he put it, could one be taken over by a malignant spirit. And if you were really in bad shape - a consortium of them. Precisely what happened in his last case. Apparently some small timer in prison with big eye lashes and a nice ass had been beaten into becoming a sex slave for a group of white supremacists. They’d burnt a Swastika on one of his butt cheeks and told him that they’d cut off his dick if they ever caught him peeing standing up again. He was a jail whore now. They pimped him out daily for favors, cigarettes and that chocolate mousse they give out at lunch. Within a week he was broken, in a month he was zombified, in two he just started biting off wieners and eating them. And if someone protested he’d just poke out their eyes and eat those too. Then no one touched him. But he was changed, and soon became a man that no one looked at twice. The end was naturally quite gruesome but long story short they had to bring in Chuck. Shut him up in a room with no one else but Chuck. But Chuck didn’t say much about that. He just said that he was once in the service of the dark, and that it almost killed him. Another term for human sacrifice if you ask me. And after all there’s still a market in every major city in the world. Children costing no more than twelve thousand dollars. Monkeys going for little over three. Though that was a surprise to me. The hit, from what I understand, is one that amplifies the power of the morphogenetic field allowing one to manifest with greater power and efficiency. The essence of absorbing someone elses life force. What we do in infinitesimally smaller increments in relationships every day. The flip side of being broken against your will.

Ayuhaska
February 12, 2008 by zedelef

I went to a party last night where we all dressed up in white robes and took Ayuhaska so we could meet our spirit guides and chit-chat with them about things and wot not. There was a washing ceremony for the men by the women and then vise-versa. No funny business though. It was all very reverent. I did almost get a semi at once point. But then I focused on my third eye and it went away. And thank God. Not because they think you’re a pervert or anything but because they just know you’re not ready for ceremony work if you cant at least control your blood flow. But it was fine. There was a priestess there too, guiding the gig. She looked like she knew exactly what she was doing, like she’d been taking acid forever. She had that drawl when she spoke. Like everything was still happening in slow motion. But she was more than just an old junkie. She had skills. She was like a meet and greet coordinator between you and the spirit world. Like the instructors at the Club Med Olympics. She knew how to take you out far and then push you further where even she couldn’t follow, where you had to go it alone. Afterwards I spoke to this one girl who met her totem animal. Apparently it was a lemming. She looked like a lemming too. And that’s exactly what I find in these circles. That they’re the same as any other community anywhere else in the world. With your light weights, your posers, your authentics and your pretenders. The saddest ones of course being the pretenders. Because everyone can see through a pretender. They even know they’re doing it most of the time, deep down. But even when them glimpse themselves for that brief moment they still can’t knock it. Because they think they’ve invested so much into it that they just can’t turn back.

Words
February 11, 2008 by zedelef

I drove out to New Jersey on Saturday to meet a painter who claims he’s had sex with an alien from outer space. I’d never been to Jersey before. It’s not that bad in fact, considering. The stress levels in New York really drop the minute you cross the water. You can feel it. I think if New York was a women she’d perpetually be going though the menopause. She just goes on, and on, and on about that thing you once said back in 1984. Jersey was chilly willy by comparison. Real easy going. No stress. No great beauty either, but at least it was peace. And the guy was nice too. He told his story calmly. He certainly wasn’t unconvincing. And so it was yet another example of someone either being completely brainwashed or simply telling the truth. And it’s a strange experience of course, to meet a man in downtown Hoboken who paints landscapes, loves Earth Wind and Fire, and is utterly convinced that he’s impregnated a half alien, half human in an underground compound with port holes in the ceiling that look onto the earths inner sun. When he asks you if you take sugar with your tea you just don’t know what to say. For starters you’re watching him with every ounce of your perception just to tell if he’s not faking. Then there are the details. The little details, the curious observations that just baffle you for all their originality. He even painted the whole sequence of events in an elegant story board form. They were quite beautiful. The largest piece in the series was a life size, full frontal nude of the lucky alien-girl herself. And I know what you’re thinking. I know because I was thinking it too. And of course its totally natural for low level Orangutans like us to have our heads in the muck. Its nothing new. Its the reason we all got into this mess in the first place. And so yes - she was quite something. But that wasn’t the most interesting part. The most interesting part was the way he described their reactions to his words. To each others even. It was a very telling insight into the way more highly evolved beings interact. Because he said that when they spoke to him, to each other, they didn’t question, they didn’t doubt, they took every communication at face value. If someone said no, it meant no. If someone said yes, it meant yes. There was none of the bogus humility, the pretending that we do, to feel more or less one way or another about something because we feel we have to. Because our cultures over-sensitivity demands us to. Indeed our communication system is seeped in what can only be described as a web of essential little lies. The lies that hold us together. But they were above this masquerade. And so their language system was immaculate. No one said no when they meant yes, pretended to want something when they didn’t, suffered through an event and said that they were just fine because they felt they had to. According to him they were straight in their dealings because they had accepted each others differences. And one had to admit, it’s insane to think how much of our minds are occupied with the maintenance and upkeep of this web of necessary dishonesty, this pack of essential little lies and secrets with which we live and breathe day in day out. It’s exhausting in fact, when you really think about it.

Planet X
February 8, 2008 by zedelef

I had a 2012 theme-dinner in a Park Avenue apartment last night. The hostess, who was dolled up in couture and diamonds, served us MREs by candlelight. Military Ready-to-Eat rations that have a super high calorie content and taste like shit. It was all very droll. She had this ancient religious expert who explained to us over champagne and powdered fruit cocktails that the end of the Kali Yuga was upon us. She was this gorgeous black girl from Haiti with thin, elegant dreadlocks and teeth so bright it was like talking to a stroboscope. After her spiel I asked her what she did back home and she told me she was a witch doctor. So I pulled my shirt up and asked her to take a look at one of my nipples. Every time I play tennis it chaffs on my Polo shirt. Well don’t wear a Polo shirt. She seemed to know her stuff. There was also an astronomy professor from Cal-tech who specializes in black holes and moonlights for a group who believe in the arrival of the 12th planet. Planet X. His take on the whole thing was just shy of doomsday. But by that time I was really putting the moves on the Haitian. She was a little older than me but I have to say, there’s something about a six foot black witch doctor that you just can’t quite pass up. She was certainly more interested in the professors conjecture than I. He called the planet Nibiru and said that it had a several thousand year orbit thats going to swing it right by Earth on December 21st, 2012. Apparently it will come so close that the magnetic poles will flip creating a shit storm that will wipe out every coast line from New York to Byron Bay. At this point the ladies who lunch were either laughing hysterically or wetting their pants. What do mean mid America? I spent my whole life getting out. Now I have to go back? Most of the men didn’t even seem to notice. They were still talking about the Super Bowl or reading email on their Blackberries. When the professor finally began talking about the post 2012 maps for sale on the Internet three of them had excused themselves because the Ranger game was already in its second quarter. As I was leaving I asked the Haitian what she really thought. I knew she was hiding something. But with so many people around she just kept quiet. When I invited her to dinner she shook her head and said no. You come to me with something and I’ll cook. So I’m going to bring her a live goat and try to get her to decapitate it with me inside a pentagram. I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited.