Death without apology: or, too come here to die.

                   "How the little piggies will grunt when they hear how the old boar suffered." - ragnar

 when i was little an older boy i knew told me to lay my hand on a brick, i complied. he then picked up another brick and slammed it on my hand making a rather gruesome damage that wasn't cleaned up in a more easy fashion. the moral of the story is don't let people bully you, when you comply it only gets worse. but the difference of doing what you need to (too survive) and being a predator is very thin. the damage we fight is both cruel and fatal. with a cold fascination i look for answers and try to share if i think i have learned anything. but the irony i now use for my sincerity turns me into yet another disaster-artist. someone who is trying to express through camp and irony what is normally reserved for people like Ingmar Bergman, or Orson Well's with their fascinating deconstructions of reality through what is perceived as as sincerity by a well meaning if misinformed audience. but art aside i have adapted this form of expression as a social skill using it defensively against my mental-illness and my failings i blame if for. when confronted with a limitation you give up or you go on. by constructing a frame that allows us to laugh and re-frame as a joke something that normally would make us interesting failures. we can move on with good humor and awareness and art works best when it is a reflection of life. the machine/system we are fighting against does not want us to have this inner control. though unaware and not a digital system the matrix is real so far as their is dharma. dharma is the word in Hindu religions that best describes cosmic order. the matrix is the relationship/ internal logic of seeing the broad picture of intertextuality that life hides from us while leaving us one knot in the tapestry. but sadly my ability to describe this relationship is limited. so i will let you smirk and laugh.

over the last several years i have meditated on why i am not in jail. to the point of doubting my memories and my medicated sanity. i beat up my boss in broad daylight. in his office. i crushed his nuts in my hand. i kneed him in the face till there were cuts on my knees from when i was knocking his teeth out. and the cop just said after he went and got my phone (that fell out of my pocket while we were fighting) that he wanted me out of here. i didn't know i was schizophrenic at the time so i have my doubts. but as i remember it, i did a very bad thing. this guilt of breaking my desire to not be violent. has led to a depression that has lasted for half a decade. it wasn't just that i hurt someone real bad. it is that a week or two later i woke up and saw the devil watching me sleep. this terrified me to the point that for  year all i did was read the bible and fast. i weighed a hundred and twenty pounds after failed attempts and finally succeeding at fasting for forty days and forty night. just to hear a voice in my head laughing that said. it was going to destroy me. i wanted over with the spider that tormented me leaving live lizards hanging from its web in front of my door and throughout the trees. i wanted, and still do, desire to be dead. just to know if the sickness or the devil is my enemy. i have tried to kill myself at least half a dozen times. and the worst was when i took a months worth of medication and could not walk straight for a month. the doctors told me i should have died. but still with my camp and irony i survive.... but i guess i will leave you with some word of wisdom. "don't write a check with you gator mouth, that you lizard ass can't cash." jim dodge said that.