Restarting this old thing... wow

Hi world, I'm picking up where I left off. Not sure why, but what I wanted was to type, and now I am doing it. Years have passed, and I have focused more on writing for El Nativo, and Facebook and my stories, and somehow, my own personal trip is left behind.

I am not certain that I want to report all that has happened. Although, in retrospective, looking a at this blog hs been helpful to me. It's like looking at segments of time and where my mind was. So, I realize when I write what I was thinking, I allow myself to introspect more deeply on the root cuases of my thoughts, and that helps to narrow my thinking to a far more logical ... congruent reality.

It's all magic. Feelings become thoughts. Thoughts become reality. And suddenly, we find ourselves watching the caravan that I predicted (invoked?) decades ago. But the result is not what it should be, open borders and brotherhood of man. Instead, stone-throwing and bullshit on all sides.

It's like my dreams of wold conquest were ralied by Trump and company and I was left behind to watch, as some kind of prophet of doom, how these things become real.

Perhaps they were alwasy just visions of stuff that is going to happen with or without me. I always saw myself in the middle of the action becuase... they were my visions, but I am not in the middle of the action. I watch the action on tv.

DId I miss out?If I did it probably happened back on 2012.

A trully mystical experience that never was. The psychadelic end of time that didn't happen.

This is what worries me most..

Just reset my computer and lost all my bookmarks.

Waking up to the fact that I lost my bookmarks. Shitty. Very shitty. Oh, well, life goes on, and so does this blog.

I have many unfinished writing projects, but the problem I have is that folks don't read any more. So what to do?

Money is still the name of the game

My old man falls asleep various times during the day. It's a profound sleep that lasts only a few minutes, but sometimes half hour or more. He is still out there, in Hollywood, trying to make his next million dollars. He made it twice before, and now, at 73 years of age, he feels he can do it once more. Twice made a million dollars, twice lost it.  His apartment is a mess of guitars, books, magazines, and gizmos. He is buried in his own wealth. A weird experience to pass with him, because he is intelligent enough to see the dilemma but unwilling to cede it to loosing his property. Too many things and too small a space. And those things are all "essential" to him. His materialistic armor, defending him from poverty?

And me? Am I a pack rat? Probably. I like my things, and I like to keep them even when it's not practical. All I really need is ash and cow shit to be happy?

Cow shit.

Bull shit.

It's what makes most sense in all the world. Mushrooms grow on it, and you can burn it, and you can use it to plant fun things like marihuana and salvia and ayahuasca.

I should be writting some "pontificados", but what do I have to say really?

It's been a while since I've written in this log

Sometimes it's just about putting one word in front of the next. Writer's write. So, why haven't I been writing? Or have I? In fact, writing is kind of a mediation for me. It makes me experience the immediacy of words, the power of words.

I could bore you (whoever you are) with facts and figures about the last few months... years since I've visited this log. But in fact, you can just as easy watch it all on my video blog on youtube, which is under my channel, which is simply my name.

The question of "what to write" ..

Hard to do in a busy office.

En Tepoztlan sin Sentido

¿Como llegue aqui?  Que raro, encontrarme con mis viejos pensamientos, mi vieja mente, y todavia aqui, vomitando  mi nueva mente para todos.

Estoy en Tepozltan, en casa de Tia QK sin niños, sin mama, sin trabajo, sin ideas. Pensando en que Renata tiene que encontrar 2,400 pesos para pagar la luz, y yo ya no. Pero asi es esto, te adjuntas reponsabilidades, y tratas de cumplir, y cuando te dicen que ya no, pues ya no.

Es simple: hacemos lo que queremos. Y yo.. ¿Que quiero yo?

Sin deseos.
Sin miedos.
Sin amores.
Sin desamores.
Sin mente.

El universo es perfecto al cual. Yo solo existo en el, observo, actuo, pero sin observar ni actuar.

¿Que es necesario?

¿Dinero?

I need to find a space to write.

But this is not it.
I wake up, kids all over me, wanting my attention.
Thats not a writers space.

Writers are lonely people.
They need to be to create their worlds.
I have an urgency to create my world,
but I am not lonely.
In fact, I am full of love.

Lolipop City calls.