56th wind

PICT0004, originally uploaded by The Stranger.

Here I am in the past like last christmas but holy krike times change like the high and lonesome. I lost the hat but now I wear a new one I got at the dollar store for 3.50 but my buddy payed for it. That hat was made of foam and I found it in a cave in Thailand left by some nutmeg stoned pirate no doubt.

Why do I write and for whom but my self. My ego as judge and jury casting a neolithic necromantic spell on a 3d screen of my own creation. My shadow playing all extra roles and starring me speaking cliches that I copied off of the Osama ben laden wikipedia section.

Of course the world is ending and yet behold the world seems to have just begun.

My thesis is that most of humanity is wheeling and dealing with energies that we have yet to define. Namely the bioelectric aura energies. Like frickin photons that shoot out of our eyes when we look and shoot out of our brains (and internet wave lengths) when we think.

And you all say, "that captain goldstar, he's fricking blind and drunk from all that rum and nutmeg and debauchery he likes. He doesn't know nuthing."

And yet I tell you that it's possible to perform acts that we would call miracles: Miracles of sound, miracles of image, miracles of ego, miracles of self-destruction-ressurection, miracles of awarenes, miracles of water wine, miracles of king louis going insane and leading the North West Rebellion.

I seek to find the key that unlocks the riddle. Creating crazy shizzle with my funky fiddle. dealing in fine wares amulets and faith immaculate.

Emmanuel Kant can't keep up with Socrates and the seven Dwarves.

sincerely,

Santa Cloz