Return to LA scheduled for 11 Dec.

So I got my ticket.
That always makes me nervous, getting my ticket. There is a finality to the matter, that cannot be taken back. In and out. Return to Mexico ASAP so mother does not do any more mad shit. I doubt if Nanda can handle her more than a few weeks. A couple of months at most.
Smoking more and better weed than I am used to.
Distractions. Mom asks me how I am going to make the surimi. I give her a Nicholson look and tell her not to bother me with that right now.
I open my blog when I want to write but I am not certain WHAT I need to write. Just writing for writing's sake. Getting my ideas into words.
Ideas into words.
I feel strange.
Like I need to be doing something, but I don't know what anymore.
Like there is a doom?
No.
Just .
Sapo.

Bueno, nececito bañarme y salir a pagar la renta, mandarle unos centavos a Majo pa que coman y luego ir con Pin al jusgado. Holy shit. Busy day.

Fumando tabacco mentolado con quiensabequechingados.

Ta gueno el tabacco.

Wow.

Rig Veda on audio, and lettting my fighers type my words.
The world feels right, and me good on my way.
The war is won.
The spaces set.
Words become acts, acts become history.
And my stone-form becomes aparent.

South Dakota.

Smoke a little to elevate thoughts.
Meditation on everything.
Smoking meditation.
Writing meditation.
Listening meditation.
Seeing meditation.

Josue is arriving soon.
I feel the arrival of The Grandmother of the Amazon.
Amazon burning.

Letting the spirits in me.
Letting them flow from my fingers.
What are fingers?

Does Fire understand finger?
Does Water?
Atl.

The people of Atl.

I feel my pulse in my hand.
Bring it down with breath.
Return to the fingers.

Nahua.
Sanskrit
Spanish
English
German

What is the truth of these words?
I write in English because it is the idiom that I have studied most.
Should I write in Nahua?
Sanskrit?

A mental meditation.
A mental masturbation.
In the deeper states of "no-mind" there is no mind.

My software "corrects" my English.
I should go back to drawing.
But sometimes, words should be written, too.
And in the language that they are "thought".
Such is the process of writing. Another form of meditation for writers, particularly.

For Stephen King, writing is a discipline that requires edition and correction, and preferably, autocorrection and planning before that!

But Stephen King writes from the Soul. He is a profit motivated write who writes for the love of writting.

So what is the answer?

To being a good writer?

Was Moses? Was David? Was Solomon?

How do they live up to Sri Vyasa? Or even Nabokov?

Rig Veda.

I am listening to a woman talk about the Vedas, but not read them. How utterly perplexing!

Perplexed. That was "my" state during the Maha Pralaya of the Second Toad Ceremony.

The Demonic "Tamas" has the quality of perplexity. Ignorance is its primary quality. I know lots of Tamas... And Rajas. but the Third? Do I know it?

Satva. Sannyas. Seva.

The SS..S.

The Ganeshhhhhhhh!

The Gate, Gate, Para Gate, Para Sam Gate, Kali Ma!

The Dance of the Dark Mother came to me. I went lovingly there, looking for her in adoration. Not the "smartest" thing to do if one has read the Vedas, and specially the Srimad Bahagavatam. But I have long considered myself the Asura of the family, drawn to ignorance.  Tamas.

I have been drinking tequila all day. 1/3 of a joint and I get so spooked that I need to listen to Vedas. Too many years of hallucinations (and perfectly legitimate poltergeist events) not to feel a little spooked after 1/3 of a joint.

But then again, I have 3 ayahuasca rituals in September, and I must help my Master.

Brewer. Master Brewer.

I wonder if I have the concentration to finish the Diplomatic Interspecies story.
Lots of projects going unfinished.... Getting lazy as a writer.

Or at least the second translation of Horror Stories for Children.

A work in progress.

WTF? Good weed is good weed and good ideas come with it. It's just how we roll. Go figure. I am going to make some supper and hang another box from the wall.

Lavander Disel. I think that's what they called it back there... Lemme see? Hydro. but which?

Bravo to the gardener.

Kitchen clean. I have things I want, but what do I want?

Nothing. I need for nothing. I want for nothing. that is the truth. I simply react to what the universe puts in front of me. Like the corrector that corrects my writing to the kohl in the kitchen, everything is as it should. Pot tea on the stove. Tomorrow PIN and the lawsuit.

Far behind are 9-11 and the border launches. The last time I crossed the border, I passed right through. My slate is clean...

And my soul? My spirit?

Likewise. In the deepest Ayahuasca journeys, K saw that Maha Pralaya is not "me", I just stand there observing it, a conduit for some who might not even be aware of it.

Why write a blog? It's not for YOU peeps. It's for ME. It's a grimoir, and should one find it and be of good use to him or her (or it) well jolly good. I would see gardens in all the rooftops and rivers in all the streets. It's what this town calls for. Burning it would also do the job? Probably, but in fact, there's some nice lookng little changuitas that I would fornicate with before that.

I was going to start the day by writing on one of the many short stories that I've begun but have not finished. I have an aversion to leaving stories half-finished, Almost out of sugar and certainly out of coffee, the last day of the month before my fortunate SS kicks in, I feel oddly bored. Mi cat Eli meows at me and the three little fish who live in a mossy water bottle look at me looking at them.

This is my life. This is me, being me. Supposedly taking care of mom, Nanda and "trying" to recover from mom's sell of the house. I was not expecting this. A diviner who didn't' divine his own future. 

From "what I wanted" to what I got, maybe the Stones are right and "You can't always get what you want". but most certainly, "you get what you need."

What do I need? At the core of my being, there is a wounded little child who wants justice for all his pain. Met his sorry ass a few times, and I know it's all about being loved and loving. Eros vs. Thanatos. The soul of mankind in the love we feel for others. And at the center of that little child's wounds is mom, and mom is here with me and that makes it even more intense. So I surround myself with objects of love: fish, cat, nephew, mother... Does it feed the need?

Sex.

Sex is also at the center of most of what I do and think. I write constantly about it, I bring it out in many conversations. Hell, I even talk about it on the radio. Zoophilia no less.  Incest and pedophilia are always near and dear to my heart. it's how I roll. And yet, my family, who know all this don't much mention the subject. A stranger in a strange land.

I take refuge inside my dreamworlds. Lucid dreaming is strong, and I have really nice dreams, some of them very specific. I should begin writing them down again.  The boy has to go get his date for the next school exam. He is a week late. My bad. I should have beaten him. Mom's ok, but we are out of weed and tomorrow we have to do banking AND go to the shrink, so it's gonna be a full week again. My calendar looks like Hilary Clinton's.

I think I have faced most of my most serious delusions. The whole "President of Mexico and USA" thing. The whole anti-christ thing. The whole Big-brother thing. Reality is equally challenging and somehow far less predictable. The phrase re-build after having lost everything sounds far better than conquer the world. More challenging. More real. I can take refuge in Baldur's Gate.

Conquer myself. That's the job.

So, writers write. What do I see?
Mother in the hammock, not wanting me to write.
Three fish in cloudy water. An uprooted pot plant waiting to go into the fish-tank.
Boy didn't know his stuff for school. I got to practice some new songs.
Lots of stuff to buy, but no real money to buy anything.
A witches festival on the weekend and Adrenalina on Friday.

------------

So much shit happening that I had to stop for an hour or so. Client. Renata calls. Etc.
Oh, yeah and pastas for luch.

So I am feeling a little better. Mom's health goes up and down, but we've found some clues as to what is causing her swings: there are emotional, cognitive and physical reasons. The physical is the use of cannabis and Haldol, which is kind of experimental but approved by the doctors at Fray Bernardino. In fact, I suspect mom has everything kind of clear somehow in one of her many personalities because although she claims to "forget" many things, her memory is surprisingly good. Her physical deterioration and the fact that she DOES lose complete control of her speech and cognitive functions makes it clear to me that we have to deal with very real medical issues. 

The lawsuit... Well, let's see how it works out. For the moment my sister is not paying rent, and that's about all the help I can offer, but I have a witches festival this weekend and I might make enough money to pay the taxes on the property, which is now important. 

So what's the plan?

1. Continue with my writing, music and tarot.

2. Fix the lawsuit for the hosue.

3. Get mom her medical situation clear.

4. Get mom her papers to come to the USA with me.

and the cherry on the pie: AYAHUASCA!!!!

Grandmother aya has given me this pause: "Rest, warrior..." to get my life in order and get back to work with her. That's the point. All the roads lead to Peru. But the way is long and the tasks in -between many. 

Inbetween. Once I have clarity of the path, the path opens. It is exactly this clarity that I was lacking from the moment I got on a planet to come back to Mexico from Oregon. The entire Kathleen episode was a learning curve to see myself working as a real ayahauasca shaman. The toad ceremony was the starting line, the call to battle in the spiritual realm. Forgetting everything was the first thing with the toad, including my own name and the name of Jesus Christ. Second was the Holy Spirit, getting me out of the non-attachment hell. Coming down to frienship and brother-hood. 

No bad trips, remember? 

Aya had even more profound messages: The Virgin Mary. THE VIRGIN MARY IN BLUE!

Last night, the terror of our noisy neighbors came back. Stupid Mexican music until 4 a.m. We woke up at 10, angry. Mom invited Angel to smoke some weed, since before the party, last night, Ray came over and helped us with some weed to help mom make it through the week. I wanna get back to work on scripts. I also need to focus on getting an agent in Hollywood to sell my stuff.

So I a lot of stuff going on... Let's analyze:

1. Mom's interdiction. 
1. Dad's birth certificate
2. Mom's declaration with police
2. My ayahuasca practice - this is actually the key to our new world order.
3. My tarot
4. My books and screenplays
5. A store?
6. Mom and I going to USA - Embassy
7. Nanda's school
8. Going to USA to do my SS shit

So, this is my plan.. my grand opus. But is it?

Writers write. I am not entirely certain why I haven't been able to work on the myriad of projects that I have cooking, but somehow, I found my old blog again, and it gives me at least a little comfort being able to work my thoughts here, as a kind of memory-lane. 

My principal concern is the huge lawsuit which mom caused by selling her house to our neighbor for a fraction of the cost. I have been obliged to declare her incompetent legally, and that is a huge thing, because it puts me in a position to be her legal guardian, and I and the law have a very fractured relationship for a number of years, ever since I tried to hang myself from the CNN building in Sunset Blvd. back in 2001. Of course, I am a lot calmer now, but I just don't know how to handle so much legal stuff, and I count primarily on the help of my family, my aunt QK and my uncle Pin. It's kinda weird.

I am living in Iztapalapa. I rent an apartment for 4000 pesos (around 200 dollars) a month. My nephew lives with me to help me with his grandma (mom) and go to school. He's ok but very hermetic. I see little of him, and he spends most of his time in his room, playing on his computer. Mom is ok but after the last crisis (when I was in Oregon), she is not the same. She lost something. It's like she's not the same person, nor will she ever be. 

Money is always tight, and I haven't been working very much. A client here and there, but nothing firm. I have my show with Adrenalina Radio once a week to keep me sane, on the road of having an occupation, but there is no money there, just work. 

The here and now. How it's changed over the years! Valle de Bravo is now under my sister's care, and she has 4 dogs and very little interest in cleaning up the house to my standards. 

Writing helps. Like Nabrovok, Poe or Lovecraft, it does nothing to better my life economically, but it does a great deal to exorcise my own demons. 

Well... Here we go. I found this blog and I am still active. Cool. Talk later.

So, here I am again, trying to figure out what's going on. It occurs to me that this place is perfect for a kind of "project control" over the years. There's lots going on... 

• Trying to round up an Ayahuasca Ceremony for the blood moon at the volcanoes. I am not being very successful, as I have only one person willing to desposit the 50 dollars necessary for me to actually get the medicine.
• I am going to do another kickstarter project with Johnston Blackhorse. This time, I am going to let him lead the video and stuff. 
• I wanna do a fundadora project for financing Popocatepetl as a indie-film.
• Obviously, getting back the house for sis and her kids is priority no. 1, but it actually depends on stuff I am not really in charge of, such as cleaning it. Uff.
• Various writing projects continue: the SIMS series, Kukumbali, Pedo and others.

I'll think of more stuff as it comes. For the moment, Adrenalina, Wallace and the Witches, and of course, going to San Pedro in February to see Sasha and Dad. 

Good things are coming this year.. I can feel it.