Four Loco
“For Crazy”
I walked into the mini mart near my house. Right away recognized the kids working. I tried to get a job there, put in an application and everything and it had been ignored. I was surprised. Didn’t they know. LOL. Now it was a crazy rainy night and my hood was pulled up around me. They would not recognize me with mascara running and layers of 80’s colored plastic. I looked old and local. Hah.
I walked to the four loco. I think they had just been talking about it, couldn’t be sure.
They had the new stuff.
If you didn’t know, Four Loco just got taken off the market by the FDA because it was deemed dangerous. It was removed because there were a series of high profile deaths. The reasoning behind the removal was that the “Caffeine, guarana and high fructose combined with alcohol is a deadly combination.“ Quote. I was sure that accurate as saying iboprofen and booze could kill you. Duh. But lots of things kill you. Cigarettes, too much vodka, ext…
I had never had the Four before it was removed from the Market. As most people over 23, I was afraid of it, shying away from the brightly painted malt liquor like it was going to bite. I would drink piss before drink Loco, I had declared drunk as fuck at Delores. Seriously!
But then, after they took it off market, I went looking for it. And it floored me, positively floored me. One half a can and my life changed. And if you think I’m kidding, think again.
“Oh you guys have it!” I said, enchanted.
‘Just one of these floored me. And man it was like nothing I”ve ever had.” I said with feeling. “It was like…psychedelic. I saw shit on the ceiling and things about myself. And I was drunk.” (and horny I added in my mind).
They eyed me incredulous open faces from behind the cashier island.
“Yah.” Said the one I had talked to before, a hawaain looking kid with warm brown eyes and good vibes.
“We got it. But it’s not the same.” Said his counterpart, a pale punker with tats. “They took it off the market. I don’t know how this stuff compares, cause I haven’t had it.”
“Ha!” I was ready to go off on one of tangents. Watch out. “So, how would we know guys, I mean seriously. How do we know they didn’t do the whole thing as a publicity stunt? Do you really trust the FDA? Look at GMO crisis for example. How do we know that they didn’t just draw attention to Four Loco as some sort of reverse psychology backwards social experiment. Now, people my age are like curious about it and think it’s “Safe.” Ha.” I scrunched my brow. Wow, that made me sound seriously retarded. Oh well.
“For example,” I continued, “What makes us think that it’s not an other ingredient that makes it both dangerous and appealing, different from other beverages. I mean look what they put in coca cola for example? Or think about when they first started injecting caffeine and white sugar into most of our processed food? Do we even understand they could be inventing new stimulants and hynotics at any time and injecting them into food in weird fourteen syllable words that no-one understands?”
They stared at me. The tatted one opened and closed his mouth.
“I mean, you guys remember how they injected crack into the ghettos right? How the CIA purposely put cocaine into the poor impoverished areas so they could control the civil right movement. Or introduced LSD to the youth movement to distract the true power within it.”
They both nodded with some confidence. Ah, some heads, not a download, but an honest interraction.
“Okay, what makes it crack?” said the one behind the register.
“Have you felt what it feels like on this shit? It is not normal. Totally off the chain. Not alcohol. Look guys, I don’t want to just be all freaky on conspiracy theories, but that is how I feel. “ I shrugged, the rain drops collected on the linoleum. I stood facing my nemesis, the line of brightly colored booze, awaiting soft hands.
Engage.
“No, it’s okay, I like it when people are real and talk like this. It’s cool. They should more.“ Said the kind cat who I had spoken too before.
“Well most people are zombies. You talk to them, they wake up, they forget. For real. It’s like they’re afraid to see it.“ I said.
“Talk about people being zombies….”said the tatted kid and started walking up the opposite aisle. But he wasn’t dissing, just saying.
“No it’s refreshing, instead of this is how conversations always go, you’re really talking, you’re saying something.” Said Kevin.
‘Oh, on the subject of zombies.” I said. Now I was going for broke. Man, I do have a sense of humor, let me tell you. I faced the two boys, cordoned off behind the money machines, wearing blue. I had previously told them that I would look good wearing those blue uniforms because I knew it would accent my blue eyes.
Plunking down the four loco on the counter I was like, “Okay, can I tell you something about Jesus. And you have to promise not be offended.“
Kevin shifted his weight behind the register, and eyed me, not meanly. “Like…what?“
“Are you Christian.?
“Sort of.“
“Good answer.“ I said. “Me too. I only recently re-renounced.“ I said.
They both cocked their heads. I wasn’t even in hit and run mode. I was just having fun.
“He was a zombie.”
“Like, let me explain. I mean what is the definition of a zombie? Well…. A zombie is somebody who rises from the dead. And what is Christ known for?”
“There were others before him though.” Interjected tat boy, he was now in a different spot altogether, leaning on the peanuts. “xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx,Hermes, Ra, even xxxxxx”
“Well, even Thoth.”
“Oh you mean Osiris.”
“Possibly.” I was smiling. “So, but that’s not the best part. You got to understand, okay what do they say about Jesus?”
They were silent. Overhead the cameras glinted like cats eyes and the tv murmured a silent neon.
“Well he had two commandment right?”
We all smiled.
“And they also said that Jesus said, “You will know me because they will drive out demons in my name right.”
Kevin nodded.
“But that’s not totally it. I mean, it’s one thing if he’s more powerful than the demons right? But what if…You know if there is a bully on the block who is more powerful than you right?”
They shrugged.
“So what if he was King of the Demons? What if that’s why it’s effective--he can just call them off.”
Kevin disagreed and bumped the quarters into the rack. “Nah, I mean they deal with that in Matthew. It’s not like that. They say in Matthew:
How can Satan drive out Satan? 24If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. 25If a house is divided against itself, that house cannot stand. 26And if Satan opposes himself and is divided, he cannot stand; his end has come. 27In
“
I paused for a moment. Did he know that that quote was one of the brainwashing techniques of Project Monarch?
“A house divided aye?” I asked. Who else said that?
They were silent. The lights were relentless.
“Lincoln. But let’s think about that really. A house divided? What do most people about Christianity. They think it sucks. They think it is a mechanism of control of people… and it is not divided…what if it was…”
“What if jesus was a double agent.” I said.
“I just know that my life has gotten better since I started dealing with Jesus again.“ said Kevin.
“Oh don’t’ get me wrong.“ I said.
“I call him too. I just have a grain of salt.“ (in my shoe I didn’t add). “I write Enoch.” I said. As though that would explain anything and it did.
Meanwhile, Tatted kid showed me his arms. It was a hexagon and straight natural magic.
“Why didn’t you guys let me work here.” I said.
“You know it’s dangerous if you mess with them. My life has gotten better since I started following jesus.”
But it’s not the material things that are important,” I said,” it’s more than that…”
‘Oh I know.” he shut me down. He knew.
It was dangerous.
“Well, I have a bunch of weapons to defend myself.” I said. Brandishing tiny white wrists. “Like Four loco.”
They gave me the look of death.
“Well, I’m going.”
Next time I’ll Tell you about project monarch.
Le.c
That’s why I have four loco, I’m armed
Project monarch-- some people say that comes
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Three Stars and The Dharma Blew Up
Three Stars
“So a couple of years ago I had a very vivid quick dream.” Z touched her nails to her thigh and scratched lightly. Her brown eyes were wide and luminous with remembering. She looked about 16, though she was considerably older.
“I was standing on a cliff in San Francisco. There were people around and I couldn’t see them. All of sudden, I’m looking at the stars and I see this one star explode! There are sparks far, far away. I’m going: “ Did that star just explode?” Then, all of sudden, this huge Sun rose right in front of me! Oh my god, what’s going on? Then a little sun crossed right in front of it and I was like what’s going on? Why are there two suns?”
We were sitting in my bed the morning after partying. Outside the sky was grey, as though it were about to rain. We were still high.
“I finally typed in two suns onto Google and this website came up. It’s about people who have dreams about two suns. I guess it’s a biblical theme having to do with revelations, 11:11.”
“You just gave me chills up and down my arms.” I told her. And she had.
“They have everything about crop circles too. After that, that’s how I got into all of that. Angels, the three stars, everything.” she shook her head, looking both distraught and excited.
“I met a real live Hansel and Gretel witch once. I worked at Greens, and they had a wisdom festival. so bunch of important magic people were there, wizards, witches, psychics from all over the world. They all came to go to this event. Then there was this lady. She was dressed in all white, and she had a staff with
pentacle necklace and earrings, and a giant amethyst. Her eyes were gold. These weren’t contacts, mind you, they were actually gold.
it was creepy. I didn’t like it. And this is what she says to me: “Oh you should come over. We’re talking about the rainbow bridge crossing.” I’m telling you, she wasn’t off the light, she was of darkness. There are spirits out there that do try to take over your powers and when they see you they try to see what you know.”
“She sound elitist. Alien.” I said.
“She just really freaked me out.” said Z, clutching the blankets and flicking her gigantic earrings. Even after a night of partying, she looked put together.
“We’re being kept down.” I said. “By the watchers. Like that damn tower.” I motioned my shoulder behind me to where the gigantic digital cable tower dominated the tallest hill in the city. It broadcast it’s brainwashing down on the entire bay area, among other things.
“Yah, well, I feel my ancient blood, my powers, I feel it’s us doing it. It’s not God, it’s us doing this to ourselves. There are powers that are trying to make us forget, but this planet is there for us. We don’t even know how to use a lot of stuff that could help us. It’s very frustrating, I have all these thoughts and feelings. All I can do is research.
Oh another weird thing, my boyfriends birthday is 11 11!” She through her head back and laughed.
“Even at my lowest point, I try to have a sense of humor. I try to think about different things, so I don’t go crazy.”
“Well, you have me now. I don’t think you’re crazy.” I said. “Have you seen aliens?”
“OH yeah!” she was adamant. “That’s why I know about the three stars.“ hands shaking from the E, she held out her necklace. It had three silver stars on it.
“That’s kind of weird.” I said.
“Why?”
“Because this man came into my work, this renowned psychic. And he told me they were watching me because I was starting to wake up. But that I didn’t pose a threat yet.“
“To what?“ she asked.
“I don’t know, honestly. I asked him what he was afraid of and the only thing he would say was: “People with three stars on their shoulders.”
“Well, all I tell you was the UFO I saw was in the shape of a triangle. I see three stars coming down, and I know it’s a UFO. That day that I saw it, this physicist came in to work (*is this correct?) He talked about chrystals with me. It was so weird. Time slowed down with him.”
“I have weird dreams too. I was on this tour bus in heaven. I’ve died and gone to heaven three times. In this one we were in the same building that was one fire. When we-- the group-- met each other at the crossroads, there was a guy standing at the bus... and if you were not on that list, you were fuct. If my name wasn’t on the list then, well, it’s all bad. But it was, or we snuck on.
We got on and everything like that. We were riding around in this little town, it wasn’t abandoned. We get to this house, you know those little law offices that looks like houses. And three girls walk out, I knew they had been brutally raped. So when I was going in, at the desk, this girl came in with me, and she was talking, reviewing our lives and talking about our fathers, and when I looked into the coffee cup, I saw a skull and crossbones, and it dissolved... “
“Do you know what planet you are from?” I asked.
“I did this one, what planet are you from before online! I wanted to Pleidian, but I got Sirian. i really feel connected to that. When i started to read about zeitgeist, they are trying to connect it all.”
“So I told you about the physicist, it was something about him. He was thinking way way into things, way out there. He’s really really smart. It felt like he had been talking to me for 2 minutes, but in reality he had been talking to me for three hours. He had been telling me about the ufos, the government watching him. I left there watching my back. I went home. I was so scared, in my room, thinking about aliens. I had never been so scared. I was fearful that aliens were going to pop into my bed! I mean I really believed him cause I’ve had my own experiences.“
“You were terrified.“ I knew what that was like. I hadn’t slept in days.
“YES. So later on, my mom came home, and I was in her room, I did not want her to leave, she would go to the kitchen, and I didn’t want her to even leave the room. That’s how I felt, like something was going to happen to me! My mom was watching the film A Beautiful Mind, which was weird cause i’m always calculating things, mathwise. The people around me get worried.”
“LIke some 5% nation shit.”
“I dunno. But anyway I put that energy out there cause I need that in my life. I can’t talk to my boyfriend about it he doesn’t understand. It’s right over his head. That’s fine, that’s him. But I need an outlet. Me holding that in, in the last couple of years, that’s making me lose it. I haven’t done research cause of the environment I’m in. If I had my own place I’d always be doing whatever I wanted to do. I was trying to train myself psychically, thinking maybe people were having the same experiences as me. “
“They are. Or close to it. I meet them all the time.” I said.
“Have you seen the Starbucks, gogo for example?” she clutched my arm and diagrammed the air with a slender finger.
“It’s three stars around the serpent, three stars in the sky moving slowly amongst the other stars. When I saw these three stars it didn’t look like it was in our atmosphere. After i saw it, I didn’t want to do any research on it, I was still kind of under my mom.”
“It’s harder to research stuff now anyway.” I said.
“I know right! You can’t find anything on 2012 now. They took it down. At first the internet was jammed with stuff on 2012 and the rainbow bridge, and now you can barely find a picture of a crop circle. “
“Why do you think that is?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
The fear set in on us then.
“You want to read the bible?” I asked.
“Yes!”
And so we did.
The Dharma Blew Up
It was the day of Haight Street fair and I was already fucked up. At two. That’s how I knew I was slipping back.
But I still looked good. I was wearing my friend’s denim dress, had flat ironed my hair, and didn’t look as hung over as I felt. We left her house up near the hospital and teetered down the hill in high pumps down into the crowd of stoners, surburbanites, hippies, medical students and general dirtbags, just to observe.
I was quickly bored.
I cut out from the claustrophobia inducing crowd and settled on the low rise of grass that marked the beginning to the steepest hill in the city-- Buena Vista park. On this particular day, the grass was shining emerald, and the stately eucalyptus trees looked like impressions of themselves. The lawn was dotted with clumps of young people; drinking, drawing, listening to music, scoping, chilling.
Drawing. There was one person in particular, a good looking guy with long hair and fine features, who was intently sketching something. Even from a distance I could see that the sketch was good. Mr. Long hair was obviously the ringleader of his eklectic group-- a group which consisted of a girl with magenta hair, a blue-grass singing white guy, several hippies, and a dreadie. They all had the vacant look of people who are too stoned, except for the pale red head. She was curled up on her knees like a feral cat.
My vanity got the best of me and I wanted a portrait drawn of myself. I had no shame, was already holding liquid confidence in my hand, and knew I looked like a moving target.
“Excuse me, but when you’re done, will you sketch my portrait?” I asked, hovering over them, flashing an empathetic smile.
He took a moment to respond, the sign of someone who either knows what they’re doing, or knows that they are attractive.
“Sure.” he said, with an unspoken invitation.
I sat down. The grass was soft and didn’t irritate my bare legs. Up close, this man was younger, and wore an emblem around his neck that denoted arcane knowledge. At least it did to me. It was also plain the redhead was somehow attached to him a fundamental way.
“I’m Anna.” I put forth a sticky hand.
“That is disgusting.” He said, motioning at my Sparks.
“Oh, I’m well aware.” I retorted. So we were going to be fast.
“And you are?” I turned to the girl, who was actually very pretty, very engaging.
“Larah.” She said, cracking a smile. She was eerily pale for early summer in California.
“And…” I turned to the guy and tried to catch his eye. He was still sketching, in charcoal, pressing the pencil at an angle like an adept.
“Modi.” He said.
Strange names for strange people.
We sat in silence for a moment. Around us the city seemed to turn like a wheel.
“Are you Buddhist?” I ventured. “Because I’ve been reading Vajrayana.” I don’t know why I said this, it just kind of came out, like word vomit.
“I was raised in a Vajra ashram, yes.” He nodded.
“And I lived in one.” said Larah.
“I guess we find each other.” I said. Time slowed.
I tapped my beer cap. “So… So… what can you tell me about…”
“About what?” he cut me off aggressively. He was very sexual. I didn’t mind it. I thought I didn’t mind it.
“About…” I looked at his necklace. It was a long shot, but I’d give it a try.
“About the aliens. Draconians, Anunaki, Sirians, you know.” I shrugged. It was random, but if anybody knew, they would.
Modi sighed, set down his pen for a moment and looked at me deeply.
“Okay. Okay then. I can tell you some.”
“Can I take notes? May I borrow your charcoal?” It was time to scribe. I knew I wouldn’t understand anything he would say to me, at least not initially.
Larah said: “ So some say there is a Pleidian off planet war with Sirians. Right now, right off planet.”
Modi interjected. “Let me put it to you this way. There do exist Masters of the organic patterns of energy. They definitely exist.”
“Are these the Draconians who are siphoning energy off the planet? The watchers?” I interjected.
“Who are the Draconians? “ he asked me, and waited. They were likely waiting to see what I knew. I took a stab in the dark and blabbered:
“The watchers are Enlil/Yahweh’s angels who guard the directions. Maybe they are Draconian, I’m not sure. “ I stumbled. “I’m not sure. I know they keep humans from incarnating off-planet, and they stop benevolent races from helping us. And they also may keep the fallen angels down, those that are associated with Satan, or the Elohim.“
Only later did I realize how convoluted, distorted and simply incorrect I was. I should have just kept silent.
Maybe out of pity, Modi continued anyway:
“The Zatar Retrici were exiled from 5 planets. There are many races of Zetas and there are the grays. You have to understand that in the Pleidian system, there were many Buddhas who manifested in the 7 star systems.”
“Seven?”
“Well, the Pleidians controlled five planets.” he said.
“Pleidians have the technology to colonize worlds; they possess an alchemical geo-chemical understanding of atomic masters. They use gold. They understand the mechanical workings of the universe, and the astral one, like swiss watch makers.”
“Chocolate.” I said.
And Larah laughed.
“Go back to gold.” I ordered impetuously like a child.
“So this Zeta technology utilized geochemical lithium. We here are a carbon based system, but the Pleidians are a hydrogen based system. You have to understand that this is ancient knowledge we used now in science. Most of what we know. we learned from ancient seed cultures who colonized earth --mother cultures.”
“When was this?“ I had written about this period when I had attempted to re-channel human history. I had assumed it was 10 thousand years ago.
“We’re talking 25-64 thousand years ago.” he said. “They came about 64 thousand years ago. This was during prehistory, I mean this was before the fertile crescent, pre- vedic, pre- early Chinese. And the Pleidians had ion generators. These machines used clean air to conduct electrical gold.” * (on the more technical things, I got confused and this may be totally incorrect, I was transcribing as fast as possible.)
“They understood sound projection and the mechanism by which one can combine quartz and gold. “
“LIke organite.“ I was showing off what little I knew.
“You see there are quartz veins that run all thru the earth, just like the earth.”
“Like nadis of the body?” I asked.
He went on, ignoring me, and it was then that I realized I was being formally instructed, whether he knew it or not:
“This quartz vien plex consists of strains and stratums which connect web of chystal, also interracting electrostatically, with gold quartz, in the atmosphere. And all of this is timed to incorporate, gathered by the gold and then repeated in sound waves. This is a particular technology. It uses quartz and gold; the gold is the sound conducter of the electric energy.” He tried to diagram it for me, but I didn’t understand.
“Is there are quartz chrystal in Shasta?”
“Shasta is the heart center.” said Larah.
“The quartz pulses to create electric signals, and these can influence electro chemically conducive plasma based systems.”
Over my head.
“These are plasma based ships they use; gases are effected by gold. If you electrify gas you have an elctrified plasma field. These are particles which are suspended within a medium of granite and clay. Then you see its a chyrstalline structure. Then, iff you follow the idea of the 5 ratio--”
“Wait, was is that?“
“We are based on the five points,” he held out his hands and legs like the Leonardo Da Vinci picture.
“It’s the ripple expansion of the time space continuum. There is movement within the physical. There is many dimensional wave resonance, this is geomagnetic.“
I froze. That was the name of the projection company with which I lived-- the rave company where I had been working the door.
“This is like a ripple, A ripple.” He said it again, as though to make sure I understood clearly. I didn’t. But I pretended, and pressed my pencil to the wax paper like a child.
“That is the action of cause and effect, you could call it karma, yes, the karma of all particle resonance based resonance systems. These ships the Pleidians use have every electron on the craft bioengineered to utilize the electron within it. Every atom is in contact with the surface of the craft and is a bio-mechanical atom smasher.”
“Nanobots?” Again, similar to my roommates fixation with robots.
“These are nanorobots existing on the surface, creating tiny ripples. Again, they are emulating the ripple effect of the time space continuum. This translates into the subatomic energy. This energy is used to jump through time and space with high frequency like neutrinos. These connect 2 points in space, a super string, 2 points are connected, outside of time.” He said.
“I know about that.” I said. “It’s not emergencance theory it’s…” the word was escaping me. “It’s a paradox. And paradoxes are like God.”
“Hm.” he said.
Larah smiled. She was pretty much telepathic.
“Now the Pleidians were based on a 6- point system with amulti pattern within it. They mapped the buddha dharma. Now they don’t take on a physical form, but only can manifest as a single entity when embodied.”
“What does it look like?“
“I don’t know.” he admitted.
“Good question.”
“Where is the 6th point on the body?”
“Where do you think?” he said directly.
I knew what he meant, but felt shy.
“The sex organ.” he said.
“That’s right. Vajrayana Buddhism. Sex magic.” I murmured.
“Before they the Pleidians ascended to the a non-material form (64 thousand years ago)…before that, they engaged in a boycott of Grey hierarchy within the three worlds of Zeta. This was sort of a racial cleansing. And there was another race.
I named this race, they are called the Wali, they are white.”
“Sounds like the Shetu.” I interjected, totally out of my ass. Shut up, Anna. Be teachable and shut up.
“They are off-world beings, they synthesized a world like environment, by forming into strophelopods which are biological creatures which are nearly planetary size, maybe the size of small moons,“
‘Like Niburu?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. they live off of starlight. Or maybe neutrinos which they absorb and translate. They can turn light into water, they can create bio-fuels, using salinity. But the water they make-- it’s no really drinkable, it’s a breathable atmoshophere,
The Wali reside in Deep space, they can’t do this technology in sun or planetary not atmospheres, it is conducible.“
“Anyway, the Zetas were eventually pushed off the three world system, they started to live in Strophlepods to create hyper-dimensional spacecraft and probes that run off hydrogen. These spacecraft convert electrons into energy. I’m not sure how they do it.”
“The buddhas manifesested into different world systems to teach different aspects of the dharma. The Pleidians had control of 5 of the 7 world systems in the 7 star system at this time. The dharma just blew up there. There were bodhisattvas every where; beings that had just purified karma, there was an integration of interplanetary civilization, and the galactic federation thrived.”
“So there is a federation.” I said.
“Obviously.”
‘It sounds like the astral realms people go to on DMT or meditation.” I said.
“This is the thing,” Modi became intent. “ The earth is a colong of Aldebra, which orbits Aldeberan.”
“How long do those beings live?” I didn’t even think before asking.
“The beings there have maybe 2 times the normal rate of a human life.”
“This is unscripted, this is off book,” Larah said.
“I’m sorry back it up.” I said.
“There were five worlds, but it wasn’t enough. What they were looking for is evidence of a water based planet. They found us. Aldebera rebelled against Pleidian unification, when the Galactic federation was formed. This is because the Federation called all full blood Pleidians back. There was geo-resonance between all humanoid type beings. The Zetas call us the 5 points. Even though they are also five points but it is unclear how they are.... “
“Akash, not are humanoids are five, instead of six.” said Larah.
And here is where I lost it. It was going too much over my head. At this point, I was becoming distracted. We had been drinking and smoking.
Larah brought out her guitar. She sang like an angel.
That night, I met a man in a bar who came up to me. He was black and had blue eyes and wore a nice suit. He was pretending to be drunk and had a false slur.
“What do you know about particles? What do you know?”
I don’t know. I don’t know.
“You are transcended. A transcended being. “ he said.
“Um, no. I’m not.”
I wish I could say that I continued learning from them and took further notes. But I didn’t. I totally and utterly failed to learn, on multiple occasions, and actually ran away from them twice. It was too much for me, I guess.
So they wrote me off. I would have too.
It’s the alcohol that destroyed the opportunity to exchange. You know they say, sleep is for the weak. But so is death. And so is intoxication. If you wish for immortality, you will get it. And there is no rest for the wicked.
“So a couple of years ago I had a very vivid quick dream.” Z touched her nails to her thigh and scratched lightly. Her brown eyes were wide and luminous with remembering. She looked about 16, though she was considerably older.
“I was standing on a cliff in San Francisco. There were people around and I couldn’t see them. All of sudden, I’m looking at the stars and I see this one star explode! There are sparks far, far away. I’m going: “ Did that star just explode?” Then, all of sudden, this huge Sun rose right in front of me! Oh my god, what’s going on? Then a little sun crossed right in front of it and I was like what’s going on? Why are there two suns?”
We were sitting in my bed the morning after partying. Outside the sky was grey, as though it were about to rain. We were still high.
“I finally typed in two suns onto Google and this website came up. It’s about people who have dreams about two suns. I guess it’s a biblical theme having to do with revelations, 11:11.”
“You just gave me chills up and down my arms.” I told her. And she had.
“They have everything about crop circles too. After that, that’s how I got into all of that. Angels, the three stars, everything.” she shook her head, looking both distraught and excited.
“I met a real live Hansel and Gretel witch once. I worked at Greens, and they had a wisdom festival. so bunch of important magic people were there, wizards, witches, psychics from all over the world. They all came to go to this event. Then there was this lady. She was dressed in all white, and she had a staff with
pentacle necklace and earrings, and a giant amethyst. Her eyes were gold. These weren’t contacts, mind you, they were actually gold.
it was creepy. I didn’t like it. And this is what she says to me: “Oh you should come over. We’re talking about the rainbow bridge crossing.” I’m telling you, she wasn’t off the light, she was of darkness. There are spirits out there that do try to take over your powers and when they see you they try to see what you know.”
“She sound elitist. Alien.” I said.
“She just really freaked me out.” said Z, clutching the blankets and flicking her gigantic earrings. Even after a night of partying, she looked put together.
“We’re being kept down.” I said. “By the watchers. Like that damn tower.” I motioned my shoulder behind me to where the gigantic digital cable tower dominated the tallest hill in the city. It broadcast it’s brainwashing down on the entire bay area, among other things.
“Yah, well, I feel my ancient blood, my powers, I feel it’s us doing it. It’s not God, it’s us doing this to ourselves. There are powers that are trying to make us forget, but this planet is there for us. We don’t even know how to use a lot of stuff that could help us. It’s very frustrating, I have all these thoughts and feelings. All I can do is research.
Oh another weird thing, my boyfriends birthday is 11 11!” She through her head back and laughed.
“Even at my lowest point, I try to have a sense of humor. I try to think about different things, so I don’t go crazy.”
“Well, you have me now. I don’t think you’re crazy.” I said. “Have you seen aliens?”
“OH yeah!” she was adamant. “That’s why I know about the three stars.“ hands shaking from the E, she held out her necklace. It had three silver stars on it.
“That’s kind of weird.” I said.
“Why?”
“Because this man came into my work, this renowned psychic. And he told me they were watching me because I was starting to wake up. But that I didn’t pose a threat yet.“
“To what?“ she asked.
“I don’t know, honestly. I asked him what he was afraid of and the only thing he would say was: “People with three stars on their shoulders.”
“Well, all I tell you was the UFO I saw was in the shape of a triangle. I see three stars coming down, and I know it’s a UFO. That day that I saw it, this physicist came in to work (*is this correct?) He talked about chrystals with me. It was so weird. Time slowed down with him.”
“I have weird dreams too. I was on this tour bus in heaven. I’ve died and gone to heaven three times. In this one we were in the same building that was one fire. When we-- the group-- met each other at the crossroads, there was a guy standing at the bus... and if you were not on that list, you were fuct. If my name wasn’t on the list then, well, it’s all bad. But it was, or we snuck on.
We got on and everything like that. We were riding around in this little town, it wasn’t abandoned. We get to this house, you know those little law offices that looks like houses. And three girls walk out, I knew they had been brutally raped. So when I was going in, at the desk, this girl came in with me, and she was talking, reviewing our lives and talking about our fathers, and when I looked into the coffee cup, I saw a skull and crossbones, and it dissolved... “
“Do you know what planet you are from?” I asked.
“I did this one, what planet are you from before online! I wanted to Pleidian, but I got Sirian. i really feel connected to that. When i started to read about zeitgeist, they are trying to connect it all.”
“So I told you about the physicist, it was something about him. He was thinking way way into things, way out there. He’s really really smart. It felt like he had been talking to me for 2 minutes, but in reality he had been talking to me for three hours. He had been telling me about the ufos, the government watching him. I left there watching my back. I went home. I was so scared, in my room, thinking about aliens. I had never been so scared. I was fearful that aliens were going to pop into my bed! I mean I really believed him cause I’ve had my own experiences.“
“You were terrified.“ I knew what that was like. I hadn’t slept in days.
“YES. So later on, my mom came home, and I was in her room, I did not want her to leave, she would go to the kitchen, and I didn’t want her to even leave the room. That’s how I felt, like something was going to happen to me! My mom was watching the film A Beautiful Mind, which was weird cause i’m always calculating things, mathwise. The people around me get worried.”
“LIke some 5% nation shit.”
“I dunno. But anyway I put that energy out there cause I need that in my life. I can’t talk to my boyfriend about it he doesn’t understand. It’s right over his head. That’s fine, that’s him. But I need an outlet. Me holding that in, in the last couple of years, that’s making me lose it. I haven’t done research cause of the environment I’m in. If I had my own place I’d always be doing whatever I wanted to do. I was trying to train myself psychically, thinking maybe people were having the same experiences as me. “
“They are. Or close to it. I meet them all the time.” I said.
“Have you seen the Starbucks, gogo for example?” she clutched my arm and diagrammed the air with a slender finger.
“It’s three stars around the serpent, three stars in the sky moving slowly amongst the other stars. When I saw these three stars it didn’t look like it was in our atmosphere. After i saw it, I didn’t want to do any research on it, I was still kind of under my mom.”
“It’s harder to research stuff now anyway.” I said.
“I know right! You can’t find anything on 2012 now. They took it down. At first the internet was jammed with stuff on 2012 and the rainbow bridge, and now you can barely find a picture of a crop circle. “
“Why do you think that is?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
The fear set in on us then.
“You want to read the bible?” I asked.
“Yes!”
And so we did.
The Dharma Blew Up
It was the day of Haight Street fair and I was already fucked up. At two. That’s how I knew I was slipping back.
But I still looked good. I was wearing my friend’s denim dress, had flat ironed my hair, and didn’t look as hung over as I felt. We left her house up near the hospital and teetered down the hill in high pumps down into the crowd of stoners, surburbanites, hippies, medical students and general dirtbags, just to observe.
I was quickly bored.
I cut out from the claustrophobia inducing crowd and settled on the low rise of grass that marked the beginning to the steepest hill in the city-- Buena Vista park. On this particular day, the grass was shining emerald, and the stately eucalyptus trees looked like impressions of themselves. The lawn was dotted with clumps of young people; drinking, drawing, listening to music, scoping, chilling.
Drawing. There was one person in particular, a good looking guy with long hair and fine features, who was intently sketching something. Even from a distance I could see that the sketch was good. Mr. Long hair was obviously the ringleader of his eklectic group-- a group which consisted of a girl with magenta hair, a blue-grass singing white guy, several hippies, and a dreadie. They all had the vacant look of people who are too stoned, except for the pale red head. She was curled up on her knees like a feral cat.
My vanity got the best of me and I wanted a portrait drawn of myself. I had no shame, was already holding liquid confidence in my hand, and knew I looked like a moving target.
“Excuse me, but when you’re done, will you sketch my portrait?” I asked, hovering over them, flashing an empathetic smile.
He took a moment to respond, the sign of someone who either knows what they’re doing, or knows that they are attractive.
“Sure.” he said, with an unspoken invitation.
I sat down. The grass was soft and didn’t irritate my bare legs. Up close, this man was younger, and wore an emblem around his neck that denoted arcane knowledge. At least it did to me. It was also plain the redhead was somehow attached to him a fundamental way.
“I’m Anna.” I put forth a sticky hand.
“That is disgusting.” He said, motioning at my Sparks.
“Oh, I’m well aware.” I retorted. So we were going to be fast.
“And you are?” I turned to the girl, who was actually very pretty, very engaging.
“Larah.” She said, cracking a smile. She was eerily pale for early summer in California.
“And…” I turned to the guy and tried to catch his eye. He was still sketching, in charcoal, pressing the pencil at an angle like an adept.
“Modi.” He said.
Strange names for strange people.
We sat in silence for a moment. Around us the city seemed to turn like a wheel.
“Are you Buddhist?” I ventured. “Because I’ve been reading Vajrayana.” I don’t know why I said this, it just kind of came out, like word vomit.
“I was raised in a Vajra ashram, yes.” He nodded.
“And I lived in one.” said Larah.
“I guess we find each other.” I said. Time slowed.
I tapped my beer cap. “So… So… what can you tell me about…”
“About what?” he cut me off aggressively. He was very sexual. I didn’t mind it. I thought I didn’t mind it.
“About…” I looked at his necklace. It was a long shot, but I’d give it a try.
“About the aliens. Draconians, Anunaki, Sirians, you know.” I shrugged. It was random, but if anybody knew, they would.
Modi sighed, set down his pen for a moment and looked at me deeply.
“Okay. Okay then. I can tell you some.”
“Can I take notes? May I borrow your charcoal?” It was time to scribe. I knew I wouldn’t understand anything he would say to me, at least not initially.
Larah said: “ So some say there is a Pleidian off planet war with Sirians. Right now, right off planet.”
Modi interjected. “Let me put it to you this way. There do exist Masters of the organic patterns of energy. They definitely exist.”
“Are these the Draconians who are siphoning energy off the planet? The watchers?” I interjected.
“Who are the Draconians? “ he asked me, and waited. They were likely waiting to see what I knew. I took a stab in the dark and blabbered:
“The watchers are Enlil/Yahweh’s angels who guard the directions. Maybe they are Draconian, I’m not sure. “ I stumbled. “I’m not sure. I know they keep humans from incarnating off-planet, and they stop benevolent races from helping us. And they also may keep the fallen angels down, those that are associated with Satan, or the Elohim.“
Only later did I realize how convoluted, distorted and simply incorrect I was. I should have just kept silent.
Maybe out of pity, Modi continued anyway:
“The Zatar Retrici were exiled from 5 planets. There are many races of Zetas and there are the grays. You have to understand that in the Pleidian system, there were many Buddhas who manifested in the 7 star systems.”
“Seven?”
“Well, the Pleidians controlled five planets.” he said.
“Pleidians have the technology to colonize worlds; they possess an alchemical geo-chemical understanding of atomic masters. They use gold. They understand the mechanical workings of the universe, and the astral one, like swiss watch makers.”
“Chocolate.” I said.
And Larah laughed.
“Go back to gold.” I ordered impetuously like a child.
“So this Zeta technology utilized geochemical lithium. We here are a carbon based system, but the Pleidians are a hydrogen based system. You have to understand that this is ancient knowledge we used now in science. Most of what we know. we learned from ancient seed cultures who colonized earth --mother cultures.”
“When was this?“ I had written about this period when I had attempted to re-channel human history. I had assumed it was 10 thousand years ago.
“We’re talking 25-64 thousand years ago.” he said. “They came about 64 thousand years ago. This was during prehistory, I mean this was before the fertile crescent, pre- vedic, pre- early Chinese. And the Pleidians had ion generators. These machines used clean air to conduct electrical gold.” * (on the more technical things, I got confused and this may be totally incorrect, I was transcribing as fast as possible.)
“They understood sound projection and the mechanism by which one can combine quartz and gold. “
“LIke organite.“ I was showing off what little I knew.
“You see there are quartz veins that run all thru the earth, just like the earth.”
“Like nadis of the body?” I asked.
He went on, ignoring me, and it was then that I realized I was being formally instructed, whether he knew it or not:
“This quartz vien plex consists of strains and stratums which connect web of chystal, also interracting electrostatically, with gold quartz, in the atmosphere. And all of this is timed to incorporate, gathered by the gold and then repeated in sound waves. This is a particular technology. It uses quartz and gold; the gold is the sound conducter of the electric energy.” He tried to diagram it for me, but I didn’t understand.
“Is there are quartz chrystal in Shasta?”
“Shasta is the heart center.” said Larah.
“The quartz pulses to create electric signals, and these can influence electro chemically conducive plasma based systems.”
Over my head.
“These are plasma based ships they use; gases are effected by gold. If you electrify gas you have an elctrified plasma field. These are particles which are suspended within a medium of granite and clay. Then you see its a chyrstalline structure. Then, iff you follow the idea of the 5 ratio--”
“Wait, was is that?“
“We are based on the five points,” he held out his hands and legs like the Leonardo Da Vinci picture.
“It’s the ripple expansion of the time space continuum. There is movement within the physical. There is many dimensional wave resonance, this is geomagnetic.“
I froze. That was the name of the projection company with which I lived-- the rave company where I had been working the door.
“This is like a ripple, A ripple.” He said it again, as though to make sure I understood clearly. I didn’t. But I pretended, and pressed my pencil to the wax paper like a child.
“That is the action of cause and effect, you could call it karma, yes, the karma of all particle resonance based resonance systems. These ships the Pleidians use have every electron on the craft bioengineered to utilize the electron within it. Every atom is in contact with the surface of the craft and is a bio-mechanical atom smasher.”
“Nanobots?” Again, similar to my roommates fixation with robots.
“These are nanorobots existing on the surface, creating tiny ripples. Again, they are emulating the ripple effect of the time space continuum. This translates into the subatomic energy. This energy is used to jump through time and space with high frequency like neutrinos. These connect 2 points in space, a super string, 2 points are connected, outside of time.” He said.
“I know about that.” I said. “It’s not emergencance theory it’s…” the word was escaping me. “It’s a paradox. And paradoxes are like God.”
“Hm.” he said.
Larah smiled. She was pretty much telepathic.
“Now the Pleidians were based on a 6- point system with amulti pattern within it. They mapped the buddha dharma. Now they don’t take on a physical form, but only can manifest as a single entity when embodied.”
“What does it look like?“
“I don’t know.” he admitted.
“Good question.”
“Where is the 6th point on the body?”
“Where do you think?” he said directly.
I knew what he meant, but felt shy.
“The sex organ.” he said.
“That’s right. Vajrayana Buddhism. Sex magic.” I murmured.
“Before they the Pleidians ascended to the a non-material form (64 thousand years ago)…before that, they engaged in a boycott of Grey hierarchy within the three worlds of Zeta. This was sort of a racial cleansing. And there was another race.
I named this race, they are called the Wali, they are white.”
“Sounds like the Shetu.” I interjected, totally out of my ass. Shut up, Anna. Be teachable and shut up.
“They are off-world beings, they synthesized a world like environment, by forming into strophelopods which are biological creatures which are nearly planetary size, maybe the size of small moons,“
‘Like Niburu?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. they live off of starlight. Or maybe neutrinos which they absorb and translate. They can turn light into water, they can create bio-fuels, using salinity. But the water they make-- it’s no really drinkable, it’s a breathable atmoshophere,
The Wali reside in Deep space, they can’t do this technology in sun or planetary not atmospheres, it is conducible.“
“Anyway, the Zetas were eventually pushed off the three world system, they started to live in Strophlepods to create hyper-dimensional spacecraft and probes that run off hydrogen. These spacecraft convert electrons into energy. I’m not sure how they do it.”
“The buddhas manifesested into different world systems to teach different aspects of the dharma. The Pleidians had control of 5 of the 7 world systems in the 7 star system at this time. The dharma just blew up there. There were bodhisattvas every where; beings that had just purified karma, there was an integration of interplanetary civilization, and the galactic federation thrived.”
“So there is a federation.” I said.
“Obviously.”
‘It sounds like the astral realms people go to on DMT or meditation.” I said.
“This is the thing,” Modi became intent. “ The earth is a colong of Aldebra, which orbits Aldeberan.”
“How long do those beings live?” I didn’t even think before asking.
“The beings there have maybe 2 times the normal rate of a human life.”
“This is unscripted, this is off book,” Larah said.
“I’m sorry back it up.” I said.
“There were five worlds, but it wasn’t enough. What they were looking for is evidence of a water based planet. They found us. Aldebera rebelled against Pleidian unification, when the Galactic federation was formed. This is because the Federation called all full blood Pleidians back. There was geo-resonance between all humanoid type beings. The Zetas call us the 5 points. Even though they are also five points but it is unclear how they are.... “
“Akash, not are humanoids are five, instead of six.” said Larah.
And here is where I lost it. It was going too much over my head. At this point, I was becoming distracted. We had been drinking and smoking.
Larah brought out her guitar. She sang like an angel.
That night, I met a man in a bar who came up to me. He was black and had blue eyes and wore a nice suit. He was pretending to be drunk and had a false slur.
“What do you know about particles? What do you know?”
I don’t know. I don’t know.
“You are transcended. A transcended being. “ he said.
“Um, no. I’m not.”
I wish I could say that I continued learning from them and took further notes. But I didn’t. I totally and utterly failed to learn, on multiple occasions, and actually ran away from them twice. It was too much for me, I guess.
So they wrote me off. I would have too.
It’s the alcohol that destroyed the opportunity to exchange. You know they say, sleep is for the weak. But so is death. And so is intoxication. If you wish for immortality, you will get it. And there is no rest for the wicked.
union
At all times gaze into the heights and keep on mounting. If you aim at what is low, you will sink down into the netherworld. Accustomed to take the even, easy road, you have almost lost the ability to aspire after the sublime...courage is required in whatever one does: courage itself is power."-----Sri Sri Anandamayi Ma
Union
Union square, wet from the november showers. At approximate dawn, the sun was in an indeterminate space, behind grey curtains. Not even the homeless people were in the square, where they were, I don’t know. The lone obelisk, crowned with a copper statue of victory, glittered in the rain. I sat alone, in ripped tights like a whore, Invisible to even myself, and waited for a sign of life.
There was none.
The square was ringed in hotels. There was Tiffany’s, and Macy’s and Nike and Prada. Fake antiques threatened to plummet through second story glass walls and crash onto the slick sidewalks, the broken cable car lines. The same objects had been for sale since I was a child, visiting San Francisco, when the map of the city had been obtruse and slightly speculative in my mind. It was only the potential for a street to connect with another, and the grid of the city was constantly entangling and reassembling, attempting to form into a trap from which you might never escape. I learned quickly from my dreams--nocturnal-- that all cities will do this to you. It is their perogative, to entrap and distract from the organic decomposition that unfolds forever outside the city limits.
When you are inside the moving grid, it is like being on the escalators of Macy’s at christmas, everything shines and you know neither whether you are going up, or going down. You catch reflections of yourself in golden mirrors--but was that a mirror? or a window? Was that a Lancome poster that merely resembled the way your hair fell to your cheek? Or did you model yourself to look like her? Going up, going down, lost faces, it seems that you have seen that older woman before, maybe in the Sunset, or the avenues, and for some reason remembered the fold of her falling cheek. Gone, she is swept by into the throng and rush, until the next hapless discovery.
On the southeast corner of the square, Neiman Marcus is lit with effervescence and grandeur that is horrifying in the face of global recession. Where do they get the money to bring in a 50 year old conifer? And how in God’s name do they get it inside the building? VIsions of midnight helicopters depositing the yearly sacrifice into place, dangerously lowering the giant in four stories of ghastly pine shedding, makes one fear for the sanity of the city. Had any one actually seen the tree arrive, or did it just materialize one morning, like an inward blooming, spring in december in the greenhouse of the foyer?
People live in hotels. This thought occured to me, staring up at the heavily lidded windows of the Starlite room. The pink bulbs crested in a neverending upward plume, drawing the eye into the black skybar. How many times had I placed a greasy palm on the inside of that window and traced the arterial hemorraging of the city with my fingers, this time from above? Several. Now sitting below, chin tilted upwards, that previous self seemed innocently unaware, blissfully floating above the shivering and shuddering crowd, hiding in the relative dark of tourism and cigar smoke. Foreigners at the bar, lonely and jetlagged, lazily observing, assuming I was an eastern european escort. How else to explain standing alone, back to the room, I must be only pretending to take in the city. Return to their bitter drink and oversized california olive, flavorless but gigantic. The napkin stuck to the drink.
Eyes back down, fingers fall to lap. Still, not a soul in the square. A few cabs slice by, flicking up puddles, adding to the background static of the slumbering city. Perhaps today would not begin. There was always that possibility, never assume anything. Perhaps I would sit here as the day gradually lightened and darkened, time lapse photography, breathless.
It had been months since we lived on the floor down the street, sleeping on layers of blankets. Me rising with you to make the coffee, while you sought socks so caked with grime and sweat that they were hardened discs on the bathroom floor. Some nights we may have gotten no more than an hour of troubled frenetic oblivion, induced by military industrial grade seroquil layered on top of mafia affiliated experimental pills. I let you hold me as I had never been held, fully relaxing and stilling, like a bird trapped under a coat.
Anybody who says they have fallen in love in San francisco is lying. When in San Francisco, you can not fall in love with a person, but only the city itself. The events which transpire are merely ploys to lure you ever deeper into the city’s intricate machinations. Again, the layers of subways and sinkholes, the alleys and dead ends, wrapped like plastic bags ripped and flinging violently on barbed wire. Cities, deteriorating from the inside out, like crustaceans molting, or old men drinking.
The ever revolving young at the gates, lurching onto buses and trams and out of clubs and into bars, guided by the same currents which catch the schizophrenics and leave them treading water on the corners, an eddy behind the bank, floating in an oil spill of rogue hedge funds, lapping at the bases of the highrises. Wayward speculative economies marooned like red tide around the ankles of the shining giants. In the timeless first light, the disaster is fully apparently, ringing the towers with nuclear foam, the tide retreated to the bay, leaving only a tragic high mark of a final lunar landing.
Those that hear the voices on the gossamer strands, the tens of thousands who never sleep, but haunt the streets, trace the spiderwebs into infinite confusion. To find yourself there, so far from minnesota, or duluth, or wherever, a sliver of the old self in the mind, now thoroughly stranded in the present, drifting refuse in the sullied ocean, plastic that can’t dissolve. Who was that old self with childlike voice, ringing in the mind? The beard matted, the urine soaked pants, the eyes moving of their own volition, faster than the sun can rise or set. Another day, another moment, the two times are women tugging on one an other, threatening to leave you standing as salt.
We no longer live there. But part of me is hidden in several places throughout the city, even from myself. I have come to collect her, but the city has shifted like sand on the beach, and the landmarks are only approximate.
I pick my way through the garbage and along the line of neon foam ringing the square, searching for whole sand dollars in the piles of shattered disks. Standing, circling in the square, catching glimpses of my previous selves passing through the grid, walking through one and other, unaware of any overlap. One, two, eleven rotations through the central clock. Time as marked by wildly swinging ellipticals, the center is nearly invisible. But I know what it is, pointed and granite.
The night Cakes got out of jail, we came here, and I refused to join your group for a photo on the low stairs. Come on Liz, you’re crazy! Get in here. I turned slowly and gave you a look over my shoulder, cutting my eyes like diamonds. It drew blood and you bled internally, in your brain, tiny lesions percolated. You tasted blood in your throat and it tasted like iron, making you salivate and inhale the wet air, a hair raising affirmation of the hunt.
Cakes could barely say anything, he soaked in the electric lights like they were final suns. And Allegra spoke nothing at all, but glided through the urban ocean sweeping her golden royal net. We all paused beneath a giant pine, it dwarfed the obelisk and sparkled with thousands of LEDS. The destination attained, but no prize in sight, you began to pace, listless. Taking pity on you, I dared you to climb the central tree, pointing at the upper most ornament, a bauble larger than my head, a perfect reflective space helmet. I wanted to see you climb to the highest level but you only made it as far as the first branch. You snagged the first available ball and snatched it under your coat.
We ran en masse, perpetual children stealing christmas.
After that night in union square, I was still married in body, but my soul was free. Leaving the square that night, I had brazenly flung a carbon copy of myself on the bricks. Now, a year later, my litter lingered, curling around my ankles. I knew I should not have joined the photo. I have never even seen it, but I know it exists, among the trillions of digital images in the abyss of data in the ever deepening straits. And if we ever found the photo online, it would only serve to remind us of what was lost, of final moments of public childhood. There we would be, dazed on the event horizon of ourselves. This digital evidence of our young faces would only reinforce the sense that we had stopped right before the end, that we had given up to the cold, and thrown up our hands. How close we had been to that secret center of the city, that left door, the final gate.
Union
Union square, wet from the november showers. At approximate dawn, the sun was in an indeterminate space, behind grey curtains. Not even the homeless people were in the square, where they were, I don’t know. The lone obelisk, crowned with a copper statue of victory, glittered in the rain. I sat alone, in ripped tights like a whore, Invisible to even myself, and waited for a sign of life.
There was none.
The square was ringed in hotels. There was Tiffany’s, and Macy’s and Nike and Prada. Fake antiques threatened to plummet through second story glass walls and crash onto the slick sidewalks, the broken cable car lines. The same objects had been for sale since I was a child, visiting San Francisco, when the map of the city had been obtruse and slightly speculative in my mind. It was only the potential for a street to connect with another, and the grid of the city was constantly entangling and reassembling, attempting to form into a trap from which you might never escape. I learned quickly from my dreams--nocturnal-- that all cities will do this to you. It is their perogative, to entrap and distract from the organic decomposition that unfolds forever outside the city limits.
When you are inside the moving grid, it is like being on the escalators of Macy’s at christmas, everything shines and you know neither whether you are going up, or going down. You catch reflections of yourself in golden mirrors--but was that a mirror? or a window? Was that a Lancome poster that merely resembled the way your hair fell to your cheek? Or did you model yourself to look like her? Going up, going down, lost faces, it seems that you have seen that older woman before, maybe in the Sunset, or the avenues, and for some reason remembered the fold of her falling cheek. Gone, she is swept by into the throng and rush, until the next hapless discovery.
On the southeast corner of the square, Neiman Marcus is lit with effervescence and grandeur that is horrifying in the face of global recession. Where do they get the money to bring in a 50 year old conifer? And how in God’s name do they get it inside the building? VIsions of midnight helicopters depositing the yearly sacrifice into place, dangerously lowering the giant in four stories of ghastly pine shedding, makes one fear for the sanity of the city. Had any one actually seen the tree arrive, or did it just materialize one morning, like an inward blooming, spring in december in the greenhouse of the foyer?
People live in hotels. This thought occured to me, staring up at the heavily lidded windows of the Starlite room. The pink bulbs crested in a neverending upward plume, drawing the eye into the black skybar. How many times had I placed a greasy palm on the inside of that window and traced the arterial hemorraging of the city with my fingers, this time from above? Several. Now sitting below, chin tilted upwards, that previous self seemed innocently unaware, blissfully floating above the shivering and shuddering crowd, hiding in the relative dark of tourism and cigar smoke. Foreigners at the bar, lonely and jetlagged, lazily observing, assuming I was an eastern european escort. How else to explain standing alone, back to the room, I must be only pretending to take in the city. Return to their bitter drink and oversized california olive, flavorless but gigantic. The napkin stuck to the drink.
Eyes back down, fingers fall to lap. Still, not a soul in the square. A few cabs slice by, flicking up puddles, adding to the background static of the slumbering city. Perhaps today would not begin. There was always that possibility, never assume anything. Perhaps I would sit here as the day gradually lightened and darkened, time lapse photography, breathless.
It had been months since we lived on the floor down the street, sleeping on layers of blankets. Me rising with you to make the coffee, while you sought socks so caked with grime and sweat that they were hardened discs on the bathroom floor. Some nights we may have gotten no more than an hour of troubled frenetic oblivion, induced by military industrial grade seroquil layered on top of mafia affiliated experimental pills. I let you hold me as I had never been held, fully relaxing and stilling, like a bird trapped under a coat.
Anybody who says they have fallen in love in San francisco is lying. When in San Francisco, you can not fall in love with a person, but only the city itself. The events which transpire are merely ploys to lure you ever deeper into the city’s intricate machinations. Again, the layers of subways and sinkholes, the alleys and dead ends, wrapped like plastic bags ripped and flinging violently on barbed wire. Cities, deteriorating from the inside out, like crustaceans molting, or old men drinking.
The ever revolving young at the gates, lurching onto buses and trams and out of clubs and into bars, guided by the same currents which catch the schizophrenics and leave them treading water on the corners, an eddy behind the bank, floating in an oil spill of rogue hedge funds, lapping at the bases of the highrises. Wayward speculative economies marooned like red tide around the ankles of the shining giants. In the timeless first light, the disaster is fully apparently, ringing the towers with nuclear foam, the tide retreated to the bay, leaving only a tragic high mark of a final lunar landing.
Those that hear the voices on the gossamer strands, the tens of thousands who never sleep, but haunt the streets, trace the spiderwebs into infinite confusion. To find yourself there, so far from minnesota, or duluth, or wherever, a sliver of the old self in the mind, now thoroughly stranded in the present, drifting refuse in the sullied ocean, plastic that can’t dissolve. Who was that old self with childlike voice, ringing in the mind? The beard matted, the urine soaked pants, the eyes moving of their own volition, faster than the sun can rise or set. Another day, another moment, the two times are women tugging on one an other, threatening to leave you standing as salt.
We no longer live there. But part of me is hidden in several places throughout the city, even from myself. I have come to collect her, but the city has shifted like sand on the beach, and the landmarks are only approximate.
I pick my way through the garbage and along the line of neon foam ringing the square, searching for whole sand dollars in the piles of shattered disks. Standing, circling in the square, catching glimpses of my previous selves passing through the grid, walking through one and other, unaware of any overlap. One, two, eleven rotations through the central clock. Time as marked by wildly swinging ellipticals, the center is nearly invisible. But I know what it is, pointed and granite.
The night Cakes got out of jail, we came here, and I refused to join your group for a photo on the low stairs. Come on Liz, you’re crazy! Get in here. I turned slowly and gave you a look over my shoulder, cutting my eyes like diamonds. It drew blood and you bled internally, in your brain, tiny lesions percolated. You tasted blood in your throat and it tasted like iron, making you salivate and inhale the wet air, a hair raising affirmation of the hunt.
Cakes could barely say anything, he soaked in the electric lights like they were final suns. And Allegra spoke nothing at all, but glided through the urban ocean sweeping her golden royal net. We all paused beneath a giant pine, it dwarfed the obelisk and sparkled with thousands of LEDS. The destination attained, but no prize in sight, you began to pace, listless. Taking pity on you, I dared you to climb the central tree, pointing at the upper most ornament, a bauble larger than my head, a perfect reflective space helmet. I wanted to see you climb to the highest level but you only made it as far as the first branch. You snagged the first available ball and snatched it under your coat.
We ran en masse, perpetual children stealing christmas.
After that night in union square, I was still married in body, but my soul was free. Leaving the square that night, I had brazenly flung a carbon copy of myself on the bricks. Now, a year later, my litter lingered, curling around my ankles. I knew I should not have joined the photo. I have never even seen it, but I know it exists, among the trillions of digital images in the abyss of data in the ever deepening straits. And if we ever found the photo online, it would only serve to remind us of what was lost, of final moments of public childhood. There we would be, dazed on the event horizon of ourselves. This digital evidence of our young faces would only reinforce the sense that we had stopped right before the end, that we had given up to the cold, and thrown up our hands. How close we had been to that secret center of the city, that left door, the final gate.
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