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sat hat

lizard & vine

Posted on 2010.08.27 at 23:01
This true life story happened in 2005.
 
First time I held hands with Vine was in a big city nightclub. I didn't even want to be there but I had to, instinct duty overiding me, or something very similar to that. Will and Intent, focussed into a particular form, affecting me. I had to. Many fatherly/brotherly protector instincts were surging through me and I had learned the only way I could answer the question of why this should be was to follow the story through, by living it.
 

Vine was hanging out with the wrong crowd and I was trying to sort her out. Quite why I felt that I had been charged to do this I can’t answer other than witchcraft is involved with this story, several forms of it. By ‘the wrong crowd’ I mean people who meddle with fate, play with other peoples lives, practising witches a coven of some great powa & ability who have not yet seemed to realise or care how often their workings of magick, the weaving of threads, goes wrong; because they are idiots to not be trusting the natural flow. Every weave they make creates ripples and kamma, has consequence that they are too selfish to deal with. Consequences that damage innocent bystanders. I have seen it too often. hanging out with the wrong crowd myself, I have seen it too many times. This is a story about all that.
 
I saw Vine drawn into this scene by the face value kindness and promise of a rapid rise to powa through social and energetic echelons by a twisted old witch Lose who I know from experience to be a mean soul bitter with a vengeance. There are three people within ten km of here all with the same name (obviously I am using a pseudonym for all of the characters in these true life stories) and all of whom suffered exactly the same disabling physical injury, all three within the same moon. Lose and the other two women who I know and who both have the same name, now both have the same paralysis. Paralysed down the left side of the body. Two from stroke and one from being crushed in a sporting accident. Thats is a powerful symbol.
 
Whatever form of magick was being practised that did this to the three women (darkmoon magick?); it went wrong. I believe this to be what happens when idiots meddle with powers greater than their understanding; when spells are cast that are not specific enough in detail and precise in their working. Spells that backfire because the spellcaster is a powa~gamer seeking to cause a greater change to the natural flow than they are able to contain. It is beyond their vision to contain and steer all the elements, all the threads of the weave as it manifests. I guess that somehow, more complexity got into the weave than was intended and this muddied the casting, that the outcome was messed up. That is my understanding of it anyway. I remember with this incident that there is the wiccan lore of three by three, which is usually translated to mean a slightly different thing than this but then the consequence that we have seen here does highlight the lore quite obviously. They say that twice is a coincidence but three times is a pattern. Thats a powerful teaching. It is all about belief structure. In criminology and psychology alike, when discerning the mentality of a psychotic, follows specific procedures; and such applies here to the workings of the magickal mind. What we are dealing with here is the Wiccan religion as practised by members of my immediate community. It is the fastest growing religion in Wales.
 
Understanding the intensity of the affect it had had upon her, Lose immediately became a devout practitioner. I should point out here that for all her nastiness, I believe that Lose is the victim of that particular working of magick, the results of which set her on a particular path in which even darker magick users are involved. I understand that when a situation changes, it is wise to find out who benefits from the overall outcome. This is likely to be the key player in who caused the change in the first place. It is an ancient strategy. By way of balance in the universe, and the nature of energy is of course to seek balance; Win became her teacher in the arcane arts, just as he has been my own to some extent. He takes a very backstage role in this current story as I wish to tell it. He simply drove the van, fell asleep, woke up and drove us all home again (to my perceptions at least). To where and for what ends, is the revelation that this story unveils.
 
The temptation... the lure of Lose’ gifts, offers of kindness & seemingly wise advice to a lost and adventurous young girl so as to draw her into the tribal elders diabolical schemes and manipulations... I should say now and here that I have seen Lose skin crawl and her teeth change. Not regular human teeth but inwardly curled and demonic. Most of the time she looks like a sweet, pretty woman but there are occasions when the surface veil breaks thin, especially when she lets open her power and revels in feeling her lusts flowing through her. In my opinion there is nothing wrong with unbridled passion even when powerful enough to cause physical shapeshift, although with Lose when she shows her true nature it is not into something beautiful like a butterfly that she turns. I quote; “I see them young pretty women dancing and having a good time and i want to make them suffer. Does that sound wrong to you? I really don't care.” The hatred in her voice told the full story where the words were mere labels. ‘want to make them suffer’ was spoken in the undertone of; ‘and now have power to do so, and intend to.”
 
Next time I heard her speak softly inviting me over to meet her new young friend Vine fresh out of school. It was Lose Intent that had brought us to the nightclub. I was explaining to Vine how this is a temple for so many people, the original temples or what we later came to call temples being places of gathering communion, music, partnering up and dancing in celebration of Life, probably taking drugs back then in the day just like some people do now. I was drug free by now having given up that life for my health and sanity; I had only gone back into this zone again to try & free Vine from it and teach her why I sought to do this; the result of my lessons, my own experienced wisdoms. About how at face value the existance of weekend clubs is for many people a hedonistic release from a boring week, but the actuality involves a shamanic awareness of daemon worshipping witches using drugs to make zombies in their voodoo rituals. The same applies to street dealers with sigil~carved athaema for dope cutting~up knives as it is for state psychiatric pharmaceutical chemical drugs endorsed by control~state capitalist established regime. Shamanism, voodoo; is human culture through all levels, always was and for the foreseeable future probably always will be. Ethics aside here we are dealing with facts of cause and effect, perceptions stripped clean. But you have to live through it to know and recognise it and thats where I was at, knowing it, having lived through it and come out the other side with a resolute mind, a healing body & a clean future. Even in a club full of everything I could walk like a haji, a holyman, a pilgrim blessed by the gods to be moving through a temporal zone untouched by it and the allure of hedonism. I was twenty~six. It was thirteen yeas since my first spliff.
 
There was a guy in the club dressed up as a lizard, with lizard eyes. I had seen this before with a fiery redhead I had known many years ago when I myself was fifteen. She was sexy like a vampyr goth girl and the last time I saw her, she turned to me as she entered a nightclub to seek the bloke she had been chasing. Beneath the ultra~violet light of the club entrance lobby her normally human almond shaped green eyes turned into yellow slitty cats eyes. Her demeanor said goodbye and I never saw her again. That was my first introduction into the real power of witchcraft as a teenager, and an insight into how so many of the cultural mythologies taught to us are not based on fiction but on real things, hidden from the mundane world of tv brainwashed zombi state~fed herd perceptions. I guess you could say that I have been on the lookout for such things ever since. And here it seemed I was picking up on a similar thread, as symbols that are the experiences we live through once more returned to the same page of the book of tarot. This time however I was no longer playing the role of the fool card but some other.
 
What better disguise for a lizard person just like the ones in David Icke books than to dress up as a lizard in a nightclub. His eyes were not contact lenses because so far as I am aware contact lenses are not advanced enough to dilate the pupils. Fantasy ranges I have since researched are plastic with a design printed on and they do not change like real eyes do. Although I have seen some on Torchwood, the Doctor Who spinoff tv series, where they have advanced digital recorders in the contact lenses and I am sure these can be built using technologies available Now; so I  assume that there are people who already have such toys. A lizardman perhaps would have access to such advanced technologies although they would assumedly be used more to give him a human guise rather than as part of his double~bluff lizard outfit. I saw his slitty feline lizard eye pupils dilate and it wasn't just the lighting in the club or confused thinking on my part because I was staring him in the eyes at the time it happened. He had been following Vine through the club and in the moment when Lose had me occupied talking, young Vine was spoken to by the guy.
 
Always he enters into the gap between the frames of my perception when my Attention is otherwise engaged. I ignored Lose who is big enough to look after herself and watched as the Lizardman blew a vapour into Vines face through a tube  he carried, a white straw. She slumped woozy. Stepping forward to catch her arm to steady her from falling, I held Vines hand for the first time and took her downstairs to a chillout room near the club entrance which had fresher air in it. Lose was safe because she was talking with her friend anyway, she had mentioned that they were going outside soon. together and that I should stay with Vine. Babysitting in a nightclub, not much my good idea of fun but there you go, this is the  role I had been charged with this night by the apparent fates.
 
The Lizardman followed us. I threw up a ward rune in the air around us but my Attention was distracted by some hippychick asking me if I had any rizlas, “oi mate you got any skins?” in her Bristol accent (birr~zul or bristle); and in this gap moment during which I established in my head that the hippychick did indeed mean rizla's rather than condoms, both of which are called skins; and denied  possession of either item because I had given up both sex and smoking, one recently and one a few years ago; the Lizardman was back on Vine again and blowing more vapour stuff into her face through a straw. This time she collapsed, her head on his lap.He began doing weird shit with his hands above her head. I studied him, as he did this, never having seen a genuine rieki or siechim energy healer acting in this way before and deciding that what he was doing was far from a healing.
 
Thankfully I was sitting right next to Vine as this happened and so I stared at him strongly enough to distract his Attention from his freaky activity. I could feel my presence move and envelop both Vine and the Lizardman. What I saw and felt from him about his actions of blowing knock~out vapour into young girls faces, was no remorse. He did what he did because it is what he does. Pure will. Pure confidence. Powerful. His ego~aura was demanding that I had to respect it, admire it, and at the same time that such a gloss would slip through the fingers of my mind, that I would instantly forget him, he is invisible to me as my distracted attention picks up on some other line of thought. His flash~instant judgement decision that I am not as sleek, either perceptively nor as is evident from my clothes, personality wise. (I don’t even care nor remember what I was wearing, probably camo~style combats and a black or grey hoody top; this was before I did my dreadlocks).
 
I realised that the analysis that I could taste as I was receiving it was all about looks and image. The energies swirling about us as I squared up to him, as our two worlds pulsed into one shared moment. An energy exchange, information bond. Energy seeking a balance. A power game between two alpha males. I hate this shit. Especially where women are involved. Its all ego crap and women who sucker for that aren’t worth hanging onto. Time slowing down because where I sent my own Attention was expanding the moment into which I was looking, in which I could analyse every nuance of data filtered through my perceptions, which for once seemed to be working quite well at the moments when I drew a clarity together. Or perhaps it was merely that my focus sharpened as I entered the lizardmans energy field, his sleek and fast~witted aura. I noticed that was picking up on his confidence and feeding on it, feeling myself become so confident. I'm empathic; I can do this, analyse people by going into them and feeling their emotional range, what I call psymotional (psychic emotions) range. the correct term is telempathic; telepathic~emotions.
 
This guy was a lizard. And full of drugs of some very expensive clean sort that I could not identify. A designer drug, no doubt a vapour. Expensive. One he is used to, relies upon. For a flash I hear him question himself in response to my questions of him, as to whether he does too much of this focus~sharpening chemical. He replaced the doubt instantly with a self~affirmation. This guy is elite. Clever. Not much real personality in there though, not compared to the complexity of the rough and ready sorts I am used to dealing with. Just a sleek Will and no morality about methods of acquiring a fuck for the night, nor even if she is awake & aware to enjoy it. Tiny inner laughter from deep within me at what a slave this sleek lizardman is to be so overwhelmed by his base drives; and an astonishment at the heights he has achieved in developing his methods to sate them.
 
‘You might be a lizardman,’ I thought, ‘but I am a brujo trained by many brujo; who has been through so much shit this life that you ain’t getting away with acting like that, not within my field of perception, not to my tribe sister. And you do need to be told this, that there are ethics in this world and that you are, in my opinion, within my immediate influence, breaking them. And it’s wrong.’
That is the assertation I sent into him while staring into his eyes.
I spoke allowed; “It is wrong.”
Smug on my own holier than thou ego~trip.
 
He replied reflexively, instinct~awareness converting subtle reaction into affirmations to steer the telepathic exchange; ‘your ethicss mate and although we could discusss ethicss, I can’t be bothered because you don't exisst.’ He looked away. By primal law of the jungle this means that I had outstared him and therefore I had won, although I had no proof that lizardman is playing by the same primal laws. Actually he looked straight back at Vine who was groggy but opening her eyes with her head on my lap.At some point while I was hooked into lizardmans psy she had transferred her head from him to me, symbolic of the energy game being played here.
 
“Itss a massage.” He told me. That's when his eyes dilated.
 
“Thats my girlfriend!” I told him and I pushed him with energy.
 
Lizardman did not appear to see the relevance of any relationship I may or may not be having with the girl, nor the relevance of me. We could both see that she was quite willing and open to the experience of being vapoured by a lizardman and wherever that could lead. Which was half the problem I was having with looking after her.  I had lived my whole life up to this point thinking that there is a behavioral code amongst cohabitors of this world regarding personal liberties. I mean, there are human rights laws and stuff to underline the common consensus. Lizardman got me questioning this  my assumption as he stared at me. I looked down at Vine. The sort of women I prefer to spend time with would have kneed him in the happysacks by now. An example to my mind of how naive young Vine is and that answers why I had been sent to be in this scene with her as a protector. I had also noticed that every time I asked myself why am I protecting her? is when the lizardman was approaching and so the idea of just ignoring her completely and going off to the dancefloor by myself to see if I could pull a slinky raven haired & dirt~eyed woman of my own age, selfish behaviour that it would have been, was a part of his control aura that I was picking up on. When I claimed her with the energy blanket, of my Attention, Lizardman receded.
 
Vine woke up and between making mmm ah baby sexy gaspy breathy sounds, said that she felt strange. I put my hand on her shoulder in ownership of her because she was from my tribe and I felt I should be protecting her from lizardmen with chemical vapours for breath. She wasn’t my girlfriend in the kissy i~love~you holding hands romantic definition of the word but technically as a female friend... I knew the witch Lose had set this scene up to try and get me together with Vine; and that I did not want to play into any more of Lose devious schemes much less allow her to choose my partners for me. I didn’t even want to be here this nightclub but had agreed to it because of the way she had been talking about Vine when she mentioned going to the club a few days ago. Vine was 15 and this is a hardcore techno club with all sorts of craziness going on in it. Besides which Lose had already abandoned her so she could go off and get loose with her new friends in the alleyway as she does and has on previous occasions I have been out with the crew. Considering what she Lose been through, what happened to her with her diablement, the learning curve that she has been through, I for one really cannot judge her for wanting to go out and live her life to the fullest as she sees it; with wild abandon and no stupid ethical code to bind her & limit her freedom, to deprive her of enjoying herself. If the theory of balance is such that we have to pay a tithe to the universe  for our privaliges then the losing the use of half her body is it; she is owed.
 
In the chill room of the club the atmospheric tension was receding and I was tuning up again. Many instincts telling me to go and sit with Vine by the wall, away from the through~way. First of all because a group of people had just made a space over there by standing up to leave the room, this group were trying to find footspace to walk to between all the seated people and in doing so they were forming an effective block between us and the lizardman who was disappeared by the time these people had cleared. Also because as my psychology was relaxing and reeling and swirling I experienced something that I quite often have done as I try to find my own headpsace in a crowded zone of partied up drugged up people; listening to the sounds and overwhelmed by them, sounds all around and sounds within me balancing, so that I can hear one random word from everybody who is speaking all at the same time in the area and all these words line up and turn into a constructive sentence offering me advice or perhaps it is my thoughts being spoken from the mouths of all the people around me, alienating me from all of them while simultaneously trapping me into this cycle until I stop overheating and the pressure drops.
 
Vine was looking up at me by now and I was thinking the same as what the stream of dissassociated voices that made linear sense to me were saying; 'go and sit by the wall, that space has just opened up just for you ~ because you are that special!' As I stood I entered a different headspace. I caught a flash vision of walking into the main dancefloor room as if I was seeing the world through the eyes of a parallel dimension version of myself, one who had abandoned Vine to the lizard and gone fr a boogie and to scope out the talent. Then I felt the lizardman leave my mind to concentrate on the new headspace he had just walked into and I realised that I had actually caught a glimpse of the world through his eyes at that moment.
 
It was later that I had a fantasy of reporting to the cops about the incident of Vines disappearance if I had not been there, had I took my eyes of her again for a second; “yes she was abducted by lizardman just like the ones in David Icke, he was dressed up as one but his eyes gave him away. I don’t know his age it’s hard to ascertain when dealing with shapeshifters. somewhere between eighteen and thirty I would guess thats in human years. No officer I am not on any drugs myself, really. etc.”
 
I asked Vine how she felt.
"I think we should go and ssit by the wall over there." she tells me; "it might be lesss confusing."
"Yeah that's just what I was thinking. Can you stand?"
"I feel horny." she said.
 
By the wall is less brightly lit and more secluded. Time for a reality check. I am involved with several layers of reality overlapping here and all happening at once. Different versions of the story I am living; from my point of view, from Vines who is currently wasted, from the general onlookers, from lizardman, from Lose who is I assume by now outside getting frisky in the alley with some random guy she has just pulled, from Win who I assume to be sleeping in the van, from whichever spirits are looking down upon and working through us all here to whom I am trying to do the right thing in the eyes of, by protecting this girl who I am succeeding in feeling chaste towards despite the fact that her own actions are laughably sleazy when I step back to look at it. And I am questioning myself as to whether I actually want to be leading a spaced out & horny young girl into a secluded spot in a nightclub.
 
Of course such an experience would be awesome and lush but somehow it feels exactly what I dont want to be doing at his moment. It feels very wrong somehow, I can't explain why. At any rate I can feel that this is exactly what Vine wants me to be doing, and some part of me wanting the same but a greater and more spiritual part of me doesn't want to be there at all at this moment anyway and doesn’t actually find this young blond chick all that attractive anyway. Questioning my own motives, questioning myself, digesting psychic attack from the lizardman and the shifting ego~confidence~paranoia balances of the rooms occupants.
 
There’s an interesting older woman next to the clear spot by the wall and when I reach out with my senses to feel my way into the next moment, to learn how to move forward into it, I feel that she I are going to have an interesting scene. I am  noticing how easy everything is when I follow the waysigns and take reality one step at a time, making the choice to do the right thing every moment where there is a reality gate. Around me the room is shuffling as many people move through their reality gates to whatever paths are leading them. In a moment I know the room will calm again and the vibe will tone, will harmonise, and everyone will feel comfortable again and less sketchy after the scene shifts.
 
Vine will be safer in the dark spot by the wall. I pull her to her feet. We blink and are instantly sitting together by the wall where it is cooler and the air flows. As if by magick, as if no moment had passed between. I do not have many memory blanks in my whole life but this moment is one of them. Another was when I stepped out into the road and got hit by a bus and then after feeling and hearing ever so gentle angel wings, I was standing on the pavement again. Another is when I sleep and don't dream. I hate that. I hate to lose consciousness. Another happened later and also involves Vine and Bristol city, when I was running in the opposite direction from her because she had pissed me off so much and I wanted to go home and catch the last train. I left her in a coffeehouse with her friend. Something weird happened that night and suddenly I was not running in the opposite direction but rounding the corner back into the coffeeshop. I can't explain that one much either.The only thing I have found similar to these incidents is from Carlos Caseteneda books when the Nagual pushes him through a door in one town and he falls through the airport of another country with absolutely no recollection of what happened in the time between. Carlos Casteneda who taught me that a Warrior Acts Impeccably, Don Juan Matos teachings, and my head was full of them this night as well as I was trying my best to look after Vine.
 
An open window above us. The elder woman smiles at me. In an instant an energy deal has been done. I instantly like her. Blink! and we have had a massive conversation that didn’t need wording. She is chanting Jewish prayers over me and making hand gestures above and around me. I assume it is protective. I am still a bit sketched out from the whole evening so farbut the Blessing is welcome, I can feel the good heart in it and the cold logic required for a genuine light~working, the clinical analysis and precision involved with tonal & gestural magick of Enochian. I studied Dr John Dee and recognise a master practitioner of it when I see one. And am also praying that she gets the words right. I felt cleansed and calmed afterwards, all the pieces of me in their proper places; empowered from being balanced.
 
‘I told you this place is a temple!’ I think at Vine who is swaying groggy in and out of her woozy hornyness next to me but is totally unbothered by lizardmen at this moment. I relax. I remember the part of a great book called the Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield in which the characters learn how to see auras; they see the energy of Intent as it moves from person to person, following their Attentions, and they can read each other from this. When people are giving and when they are taking. The book was right about many things but should have mentioned how every individual flavours energy differently, we are all unique.
 
The elder woman is chanting, Jewish prayers, seraphim. I recognise a few words of her speech from my studies and feel respect and gratitude to her but I am also digesting the lizardmans protective meme of ‘none of what this person is doing is relevant’ so I am questioning if the prayer is actually affecting my lightbody and for how long. Because its all a part of her perceptual reality & not necessarily therefore of my own, even though we are in this together. I watch Vine who is curiously looking at what is happening to me now. she feels it is safe and goes back into her fuggy haze. I thank the elder woman, the priestess, even though I am unsure if it is Vine that she is protecting me from. Onlookers working on the assumption that the 15 year old girl I entered the room holding hands with is somebody I am actively dating and regularly shagging, or intending to. After the angelic energy cleansing I feel that I have been bathed by refreshing water. A real healer, a studied one at that. Jewish magicians often are they have a very gritty reality about them because, what they have had to go through, and what they are plugged into, is so humane and accepting that its texture feels coarse even in its smoothness.
 
We talk for a while & decide that we all three of us need fresh air. Another flash in my minds eye; we are sat in a car for a scene in some parallel reality that for a split second overlaps with this one, as she later recalls this exact moment and I feel her strong recollection of it piercing into both my time & my  perception. Her Attention is very sharp and strong to do this; such as her tradition enables and requires. I question if Jewish whitelight magick involving Angels is any more pure or morally superior to dark Celtic witchcraft or lizardman vapours, or whatever ethics my delusion is full of. It all depends into what we put our trust and what we act upon. Relying on others to perform our own decision making process for us rather than utter self reliance, which is pretty hardcore approach to any reality especially the allegedly socially based one of a nightclub. Into what do we put our trust? Instinct. Then are stood in the alleyway outside the club, the three of us. Cold out here. I am still holding hands with Vine. Having led us to a place to cool down after the intensity of indoors the Priestess who still has work to do inside the club wishes us well and returns indoors. She did leave me with a lingering thought too; ‘you need it’. I regret not having taken her contact details so I could become her student. So do the Fates weave.
 
I honestly don’t know if she meant the thought in relation to Jewish magick or the girl I am holding hands with the theme of sex wrapped all over her like an oil from the lizardmans vapours. I look around. Lose is stood just over there talking with her friend; the witches Attention fits perfectly like a jigsaw into this next moment after the Jewish priestess returned into the club. Step by step the threads weave. Perhaps Attention and Intent creates this, as I suspect, or is it that we are now walking the path of one frequency, one clockwork linear process of reality unfolding, some mechanism of the angelic prayer spoken into my aura this night and the natural clickety~clackety syncronising of all the people, all the segregated waterbodies, drops of an ocean, swimming and finding their places and amplifying electrical energy that creates particles waveforms as everyone lives their fantasies here this night, dreaming our experiences. My eyes are flickering like strobe and I need to rest, I am exhausted.
 
Outside the club while I was holding hands with Vine again to keep her steady on her feet and to stop her wandering off someplace, asking if she is okay and wondering why in everyone else eyes it looks like I have just pulled this  young girl who I am looking after whilst in my own mind I wish she hadn’t led me through such a bizarre experience as this night has been and wishing that I was back in there dancing to the music & chatting up sexy raven haired dancers of my own age. But tonight was not a night for that, it was a night for me being acting out a role in someone else's fantasy, here because fate had sent me here; Fate or witchcraft, and I was afraid to leave this young girl to the devices of evil lizardmen and bad old witches.
 
I am struggling against the limitations within me, placed upon me, this is what I am trying to explain with regards to witchcraft meddling with other peoples lives. It inhibits our freedoms. I want to be free and to go in there and let loose and feel happy but I am living the path of protectorate to a girl who is a pain in the arse yet nevertheless I am holding her hand and sexy women giving me longing looks are writing me off because I am obviously attached already. Sweet injustices! I come to these realisations as I stand here in the street asking Vine if she is warm enough. I have her jacket in my free hand because shes a dizzy head and would have forgot it. Just breathing in cool air and waking up a bit.
 
At this moment the lizardman found us again. He told Vine that he wants her. I imagined the bollocks it takes to walk up to a couple and tell the girlfriend that you want her and walk away again. In Wales people get kneecapped for acting like that. In Bristol England just on the other side of the Severn bridge there are lizardmen walking around openly out for whatever they set their minds on, young girls specifically. I just looked at him as he walked away back into the club.
 
Vine squeezed my hand, the first sign of life in her and the first sign of her actually thinking which was a good sign. ‘
"Here’s your jacket." I say.
 
Lizardman left a lingering thought in my mind; ‘ah, but that is between him and her, nothing to do with me at all.’ My mind is in overdrive and I see that the inflection of this statement works both ways. He wants her; that is private between them. And the same thought meaning in another level, he is giving up on her because she is apparently with me.  read it twice from both points of view. I take this statement as his last comment on ethics. Sleek bastard.
Hang on, I'm the one with the girl in my hand.
Smile.
 
And me being a regressive monkey begins questioning my own sexual ethics and watching my mind opening to visions which I blame on telepathic immoral lizardmen in nightclubs of chemical induced orgies with underage girls with no guilt and fun for all. Sick. I realise that I am old fashioned. Damn it. Jewish prayers of purity and spirit moving around me and I tune up to the angelic spectrum through which I had evidently plugged into thanks to the healer, a spectrum that I had been chasing all night. And then Lose is walking toward us. "Come on" she says "Lets go wake him up; its home time now."
 
Back at Wins flat after they had both gone to bed, Vine who is staying the night on their sofa, asks me before I leave if I like her. What she means is do I fancy her and do want to fuck her. It was about two weeks before I saw her again to give her an answer, by which time the moon phase had changed significantly.
 
I have a lot to thank Vine for. She showed me my limitations. She taught me my breaking point. But that came later. The last time I saw my tribe sister Vine was when she visited me six months ago in early 2009. She has been living in a van in a forest.
 
 
 

 
 
the strangest day
catpains log, additional: 06.08.09
 
the following is also a true story. Hey I am a truthsayer, my spiritual creed is 'we see as we say' which is to say, honest heart is honest eyes, tell no lies. Incidentally I recently read a beautiful line in a great book;
 
"we have one eye and two hearts"
~Barbara Hand Clow, the Pleiadian Agenda
 
Vine and I were sitting on the northern slop of a sacred Celtic barrow mound. It has a druids ring grove atop it, a wild grove. The place is important to me, there are buzzards there amongst all the other creatures, foxes, rabbits, squirrels, insects, many types of tree including those pines on the brow which once I crawled on my belly as a seven year old child beneath and still got the lower branches stuck in my hair; now I have to jump high to grab the lower branches. No longer able to see out over the world from the vantage of a climbing frame hidden in the trees, from which a child could peek out above the forest; now the place has a very different atmosphere, and still I know every ivy vine and facet of this place, every special tree mutated into elf land by the quartz temple of stones within the hill, hidden safe.
 
Vine & I could spend time without speaking words, attuned to vibration & primal awareness together we didn't need them. It can be like this with some people who also seek truth and with whom a great deal of quality time is shared. One of our many stories should rightly be called the Strangest Day.
 
I looked at her and she at me. And there were people seeing through our eyes. The eagles called.
"This is how it is. How it works."  thinks Jim as he stares at Pam. She stares back at him in wonder at this strong psychedelic substance he has introduced her too. LSD~25, and I am assuming its the Owsley batch he sent his minions to acquire from the Grateful Dead, Ken Keseys bunch in San Franscisco. Owsley acid was legend; according to Tom Wolfe the band practised in the day to drown out the sound of their acid making machine. They left the lid off and the dust blew down the stairs and out into the street, kickstarting the whole hippy movement. Bless them.
 
I made a load of notes about this, an exact transcript of the conversation they were having through our minds. If I ever find these notes i will copytype them into here. For now, here's the tip of a ragged wing. 
 
This is real, this is a true story. Today I came across the video above. I have previously heard an edited version of the dialogue from An American Prayer album which was compiled from recordings discovered in the studio after Jims disappearance assumed death cover up. He had made them alone with a bottle of whiskey unbeknownst to anybody & the band overdubbed some music to extracts of his poetry. Hearing this reminds me of the story I have of a sacrifice made by one of the buzzards from the hill fort, part of my spiritual path, my medicine journey, in which I communed with Pacal Votan the mayan snake king. He took me and we traveled with both the spirit and warm body of the broken~necked buzzard to a place of power, a mayanesque temple where a building was returning to nature, overgrown with vines, peace and quiet and vibrating higher than the world around it, so that I could learn some mayan rituals. But that dear friends is a story for another time.
 
Jim Morrisson, the Lizard King. I believe him. He has shown me the truth of it.
 

 
 
 

 
 
 

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