Interviews: The Hyper-Real BUNRAKU's Josh Hartnett and Kevin McKidd Speak

Interviews: The Hyper-Real BUNRAKU's Josh Hartnett and Kevin McKidd Speak

The Kingdom (An Other story)

“At the time, my life just seemed too complete, and maybe we have to break everything to make something better out of ourselves.”

Fight Club, Chuck Palahniuk

The Kingdom (An Other story)

Once upon a time, not so long ago, i build a T-antenna but not one according to the electrical manuals but one according to shamanic principles. I made eight hoops out of wood and tied them together. Every hoop was a dreamcatcher, the two in the mddle were the hub or heart of the antenna. on opposite sides another hoop, each holding two windhoops. In every hoop i made symbols that belonged in that certain compaspoint. From every hoop hung bunshes of crowfeathers. The antenna made it possible to be aware of everything in the world faster than anyone else in the world. The antenna was key and door to the universe. I found out much later that the idea of the T-antenna came out the electronics science. I read about it in the Montauk papers. The T-antenna is used to enhance and change awareness of people. I lived under it for three years with no ill effects. It helped me to program the ghost of my shell to embrace the transdimensional knowledge. That is the reason i can write about it at this moment. Even back then i wrote a lot, describing and sharing my exeperiences of The Kingdom, where all worlds converge. 

Maybe one day i will build another one.

An end.

On the inside, on the outside. (An Other Story)

On the inside, on the outside. (An Other Story)

Twent years ago or were it ten, can’t really remember that, reading comic books and ackowledged they were writing about us. They called those beings superheroes, heroes. All those i know live a life in the shadows, use their powers only in the dreaming, at home but never in the arena of the human world. Humans wouldn’t understand that there is not something as fantasy, everything is real, its just that not everyone can see it because it doesn’t fit in their world view. And soe we are all relegated to the sorcerers world, i never felt like a sorcerer, don’t really know what i should call my self. Would it be necessary to call my self anything to be functioning as i will in the world or the amalgamates of worlds the humans occupy. Not really one being just is and does what he or she can, when he or she wants or needs to…….that seems to be the whole mystery, if we like it or not, humans and Others. Secrets are best kept safe right under the noses of the nes you keep your secerts from and here they all are. Can you read behind the lines !? 

My life as an Other. (a story)

Great writers are indecent people
they live unfairly
saving the best part for paper. 

good human beings save the world
so that bastards like me can keep creating art,
become immortal.
if you read this after I am dead
it means I made it.

” Charles Bukowski

My life as an Other. (a story)

As a child i had an image of me as a sorcerer, it thought it to be a fantasy. But i became one, i know how i got here and not really with the help of Others. I thought i was alone as a child, now i know how alone i ‘really’ was a child. No one around me to talk to and now it does not matter anymore, the word has no meaning anymore. Sometimes i thought i had friens, thats the opeartive word, i thought i had friends, i never really had friends, Others only think about themsleves, just like humans. If those experiences could leave scars, i would be covered with scars like that. Now i am used to be alone, not thinking about friends or even companionship. I live my life and now even starting to fight to live life my way, Others can be very petty. i will murder an Other to make a point about living life my own way. Now everyday i am confronted with the pettiness of Others, even use weapons these days. I was a healer once, now i am only fighting to live life my way. 

An end.

***

In a galaxy close, very close to home (An Other story)

In a galaxy close, very close to home (An Other story)

‘There should be a reference to something, anything’, he said and the Big hair said,’some have to deal with a past in the ghost and others only have emptyness in the ghost’.  Sharktooth nodded, Big hair had been in the game for more than twenty years so he should know. It is hard for the young ones noticing that their ghost is empty and they are still living like they have a ghost when they were still human. ‘At moment in time’ Big hair said,’Everyone becomes stupid and all knowing at the same time’.  ’Isn’t it fun to hit the baddy with his or her own shit and you are jsut sitting there’, Big hair was getting enthousiastic, smiling and eyes glazing over as of thinking of other times. Sharktooth was busy chewing on the words, it always took some time before the wisdom of acts could be seen or understood, although understood is the wrong word, nothing is understood, it can only been seen as possible, do-able and ultimately enjoyable. Suddenly Sharktooths eyes lighted up and he started smiling, ‘Soooooooh,………..it means i never have to use those magic spells ever again, just use the baddies own spellbook !’.  Big hair clapped in his hands,’You got it Sharkey, you never have to get your hands dirty ever again. Sharktooth stood up, stretched his arms out to the sky and screamed;’Thank you spirit, huyaaaaaaaah’. His scream echoed over the area, many people shaken form their daily slumber for a moment and then fell back in to it again.

An end. 

A stand, battle for life. (An other story)

A stand, battle for life. (An other story)

There i was on the battlefield, i had changed in to my panther form, towering eight feet high, my claws out. Opposite me, the enemy, alien interdimensional beasts taunting, leering. I roared and i screamed to them; ‘If you want me dead, do it, go ahead and do it’, i roared at them, i saw the soundwaves burst over the field and hit those monsters. The leering and taunting stopped, they showed surprise, bafflement, they fell silent. I head my hands ready, heard the roar in my throat rising up, ready to fight and slay as much of those beasts as i could before they would have me. Nothing, they drew back, left the field and i changed back to my normal human form, my claws still ready to rip those beasts from the darkness to shreds. The dark feelings of anger, dissipated, the shakes of anger and adrenalin slowly powered down. I was alone, had made my stand, would they appear again, would they dare to return. Deep inside me i hope they will, i can’t wait to show my true being and make my stand for the human race. Although humans are irritating and most times not very smart, i would fight for them any time. I rather have human stupidity around me than alien occupation. 

Enter the Mythical Zone. (An Other story)

Women who seek to be equal with men lack ambition.

Timothy Leary

Enter the Mythical Zone. (An Other story)

The Mythical Zone, the place where anything goes, all rules applicable to the human realm turn to dust, warring angels, leprecauns, fairies and humans, gods long forgotten but not dead, all living and well in the Mythical Zone. There is only one constant, an earth or planet where upon we walk but everything else changes, shows a new face, returns to its original form. Everything i already saw under the facade of what is called human society, it is returning to its true form. 

They say the 2012 threshold is being entered at this moment, a lot of strangeness will hit the human realm and anyone and everything in it. That is what they say, if they say that i am naturally sceptical, i only know about the strangeness, the great amount of anger, frustration and fear that seems to building up under the human realm, i wonder when it is going to blow. They say the signs have already been on the news, lets stay sceptical and just watch the direct wolrd around us, keep our circle of importance free of unwanted business. 

I feel the restlesness of the humans, the restlesness of that whole realm, it is under the cover of normal behaviour but it is there, falling back on the old rules and laws to keep the head above water, it is especially mental stuff brewing, reaching critical mass leading to…………………

An end.

Other diarrhea or diary. (A story)

Other diarrhea or diary. (A story)

I am an artist and a writer, arts i am good at, doings that make me feel good. I write a kind of diary on the internet, all feelings and thoughts, if i had any feelings and thoughts. I am a living mirror to the world, everyone i meet, every place i go to, reading and writing everything down to get it of my chest. Discovering past and peresent anger, fear, regret, frustration and i pen it down, mental diarrhea for the crowd that happens to stumble on my writings of an Other life. It sounds sad now, but i do not know sadness, i only know the sadness of humans and all their other feelings, even their thoughts and i write them down when they touch me. Mental diarrhea disguised as talk about spirituality and change, i changed a long time ago, left my human form a long time ago, i remember that kid that was so affraid and lost, no one to talk too, now i don’t talk about it to anyone, don’t feel the need, but it is easy to write about my and our lives, as i hover over human lives, mirroring lives, for some i am crystal, for some i am black, green or purple obsidian, a mirror they do like to look in to because it shows weaknessess, the mirror is hurtfull if the being is not strong or on par with the Other world. The voice of the mirror is harsh, she is harsh, she demands discipline, she demands some kind of purity, i can laugh about it these days, back in the day they would run for me, hate me for being there, being pure, honest, direct, innocent as a child, a child with a scalpel, cutting away all the veils and showing all the hidden wounds that could be changed in to strengths, my mission !? If i only knew what that word meant, i am just a wave rider and a very good one, those who try to follow still can’t understand, only Others do and leave me alone, knowing what wave i am riding, on the road to nowhere which is Infinity.

An end.

I was raised by Grau. (An Other story)

I was raised by Grau. (An Other story)

From a young age on i was raised by the Grau, their special arts were dreaming and mapping. Much later i was thrust in to the world of magic, as most of the Others used it and i would be helpfull, they promised. After that magic spell i had enough of it and returned to the basics of nature, less messy and closer to the work of the Grau. The mexicans ruled the house of the Grau at the moment i entered. These days the ones in the house come from all over the world, one thing in common, they do not like magic. This does not mean that what we do is not magic, some call it sorcery other shamanism or wicca. I do not call it magic, i have never in my life done any ritual, these days i don’t even have to think much about doing something, it has become an act as anything else, rolling a cigarette, sowing something, making a drawing, singing a song. 

An end.

An Other land or country. (A story)

Often i get the question if Others have a country, an area of their own. No we never had a country, we always lived among the humans. Most of us live in densely peopled areas and a few purposely seek areas where a few peole live. In those people free area there is no clutter of the human mind and the ways of the world can be read much easier. Most of us just need to work for a living, not every wants or can live of their talents. Living in the human world is like being on a permanent safari, all kinds of interesting creatures and beings around to watch and enjoy. 

Usually others group together in an area where there are more of us, it is easier to talk and relate with those of your own kind, just like humans of different rcaes always clump together where ever they landed. Only Others do not adhere to racial divisional lines, we know when we are in eachothers area. Some of us are very territorial, like any kind of animal who is territorial they let themselves be felt or heard by Others entering an area. Especially the anthropomorphic Others are very territorial, this means they take their duty of protecting everything and anyone in its area very serious.  They sometimes become the alternative police, but that is the choice of that Other. 

An end.

Hunter of an-Other kind. (A story)

Hunter of an-Other kind. (A story)

I am a hunter, in a literal sense, i hunt a certain kind of animals, animals that plague the humans society. No one would think it if they saw me, unassuming, everyman kind a guy and thats whats so funny about this game. I was taught in the ways of hunting the human beasts by an old navaho. The navaho called them ‘skinwalkers’. We met by chance on a music festival, me being fuckedup by drinking and him singing for some tobacco brand, in a way we were both fucked up. Although i was drunk i felt something special about him and he was surprised because he never felt a mind like mine before. After that came the training, the training about hunting the human beasts, those who spread blackness in the world. I was ver good at it, i am still but the world has changed, my huning ground changed, from doing the american territories together with him and others from many tribes and then now at home. Its new, but my new eyes help me to see and find the beasts and take them out as cleanly as possible. The american, north and south differ in that respect, more space to act, but the Orders in the west recognize the need of the work, have their own hunters. Many things have changed in the last 30 decades, the world but also the beasts, there are more of them these days, there is more poison in the air, amond people these days. I don’t use weapons in my trade, the symbols and tools from the religious and spiritual trade are most times enough to deal with a beast, ultimately there is the police and incarceration, when possible, some beasts are to dangerous to be among the humans. Unraveling is the true punishement, it is death, it is like pulling on a string in the beast and then  it dies. (brain aneurysm, heart attack and/or suicide.) I like this trade, i help the humans, don’t get my hands dirty and the pay is fine, the Orders are appreciative in this regard. Not that they like hunters from other sources but they have adapted to the changes in these times. I even got some trainees these days, never thought that would happen.  My work is built on happy accidents, humans call it synchronicity, i happen on a beast and then the game’s afoot, as the english like to call it. And yes, i like disposing of these beasts. Some friends in the Oders say i must have been a hunter in another life, i smile about those things, i know too much to even comment on that. The High Counsel of Others would not like to have everything on the table, just like the Orders. This knowing is a burden sometimes, a curse even, but i seem to get harder and tougher with every beast i slay and try not to think about it. Some beasts do not belong in human society, there beings like me come in.

An end. 

An 'Other' aide of the law. (A story)

An 'Other' aide of the law. (A story)

Others are often advisors for all kinds of businessess, i only advise on the lighter kind of human society because i can’t stand the darkness of crimes. But i was asked to look in to a crime perpetrated many years ago in a little town. A man or two molested little children dressed as clowns, it was a big story many years ago. Nobody could imagine it to be true, in my recollection the parents of the children were side tracked and ridiculed by the law.

I was a kid living in that town, already training my abilities but my quality of sight had to grow and i had seen the crimes but could not talk about it, i was kid and nobody would listen to me. But a year or two ago the memory of the crimes resurfaced and i recognized the perpetrator but could do nothing. Lately i met the victims of the ‘clown’ and asked me to do something because the law had done nothing. I talked with them, saw the crimes again and anger filled me, a vulcano ready to blow and i promised i would do something. I talked to the memebers of the Orders in the area if i could get the approval to do something about this case. The Heads of the Orders approved any solution of the case i would have in mind and no punishment would follow after conclusion. The heinous nature of the crime, the psychological damage done to the victims, some had killed themselves in puberty because of their memories i could do what i wanted.  I showed the heads of the Orders what i had seen and they said death. 

Then it was time to put out the bait, let the beast come, hook it and plant a suggestion for the long goodbye. Hammering it in with all my/his might, yes sometimes humans forget how creative an Other can be in his doings. I could already see the death of the beast in the future and then i knew my work was done. I reported to the Orders and it was sealed. Human society rid of one predatory beast.

As i wrote before, children are sacred and i can’t stand injustice, all the forces of the verse came together as i met the victims, there was only one way to go. Forgive me writing so abstractly about my life/world, Others like to keep some secrets as humans are not ready yet to embrace the verse we live in. Now it seems i am stepping in to the shoes of an old Navaho friend, also meeting out justice when the human law can’t do anything. I feel no pride in doing this, i do it because i have been put here with all the pieces and the only way to go is doing it and free the victims of the shadow of the beast. Remembering and knowing can be a curse especially when humans can’t and they keep hurting. Then i act as an Other would do, because it is the right thing to do.

An end. 

An Other nature. (A story)

An Other nature. (A story)

Being a bit personal, whatever that could mean in our world, less curious about the humans, more about my kind, they are very good at hiding themselves, passing for human, but watching tv, walking in a street anywhere, watching a movie……i pick them out of the crowd, the ones of my people. I am aware of where they are in their process of growth, their intentions, their backgrounds, no images, no words,straight information in my mind when i touch their body fields. I am still curious, how do they live, how do they the burden of all the information, what do they do to relax, not that i’ll change my way of living. Others are interesting beings on whatever filosophical path they base their lives, their creativity, their way of doing things teach me how to balance the strangeness and the talents i am able to use in this flower of life, all these dimensions that seem to invite me and i wonder what to do there. My nature is to follow my intuition, humans call it synchronicity, i do not experience it like that anymore, it is just a omnidimensional sea on which i catch the waves to go where ever the wave takes me. Not that i don’t know what is coming, there is no such thing as surprise, i just stopped thinking ahead, life got so dull that way. It is my way to enjoy the ride and hopefully learn something new doing it and i sometimes do. But i stopped hinding, i just am, i am in this world, doing what i do teaching the humans how to live with powerfull Others, if they like it or not. Yes, i am a bit childlike in that sense, but that innocense is to my knowledge the best way enjoy life in the human world.

An end.

Once i was called Claude (a story)

Once i was called Claude (a story)

More then thirty years ago my story began, it started in a desert with yellow mist. Some one in training had made a msitake, the man wanted i child and he got one, only not the way he intended it. There i was, in a place that should not or does not exist, it does not matter much now. He had to deal with me, certainly when his teacher had left, had died, he had amassed a great group of people around himself, because the stories of his life among the sorcerers were very famous. There were a lot of women and those women took care of me, played with me, not that i rememebered much of that, i only rememeber that the one who made me appear hated me, he even struck me once, i was eight or nine i think. the women always took care of me, he was always away, when he looked at me he seemed scared, later they told me that i scared him because i knew everything he knew and more, next to me he was a fraud, i heard later others say. They let me play because i had no childhood, that was true, i had no childhood, not because of my parents but because of the mistake the man had made. I was nudged into another life and world and would never be able to be a child again because of his intent. I am still paying for it these days, many like to talk to me if they knew who i was, but only a few really know and most like to forget that i was cursed with their way since i was a child, so they let me play, there was nothing else they wanted to do, get me a good start at life maybe…….no, i had to struggle, still have to struggle, act like i am something i am not, forget what i haven’t been able to rememeber, yes there is a nice bomb building up and no one, not even me knows when its going to blow, what will it mean when it blows………….once they called me Claude and they let me play, because i had no childhood and that is all.

An end.

Other (a story)

Other (a story)

Once i was born, yes like any other two legged that calls itself human. The ones calling themselves parents did their work programming me to be human, just like them, good workers, following the rules, playing the parts that were assigned for one born in a certain social situation. 

I never accepted the skin, the body and so many other things that were called natural for the human world. i became good at playing human, i forgot about all kinds of talents, i just played and read books and observed those cretaures called human, not understanding how and why they lived the way they lived, everything they did, everything they do is a paradoxe and they do not seem to be aware of living that paradoxe, saying one thing and doing the other, in small things and in big things, lying is natural and normal for them, it is only wrong when some one else does it and on and on.

When i was nine or ten i met other Others but i was not allowed to talk about it to anyone. We did all kinds of things i was not allowed to talk about. I had no friends, only them to talk to, now i still have no friends and these days no one to talk to and no it does not bother me, it does not matter anymore. The humans have lost me because i could not trust them, the others have lost me because i could not trust them and i just live my life, do what needs to be done to get money and forget everything that was, all those creatures and beings trying to be something they were and are not and i get punished a lot for things i can’t understand and it does not really matter, i know i am being punished for being different, for being strange, for being untangible, for being mysterious, for being able to look through them, for seeing all their secrets.

I am alone here, i always was, still i have so much time before me before this is finished, so i am filling my time, writing my story, hoping there will be someone who reads it and understand that i am not just a writer writing supernatural stories, i am one of those supernatural beings myself, that is the only reason i can write so well about it, untill now no one ever suspected, they just think everything is wonderfull, great, smart, beautifully written and i look in to their eyes and i feel the sadness and emptyness in them, i feel sorry for these creatures and i can’t do anything for them, as they can’t do anything for me, there is an abyss between us and there is nothing that can breach this abyss. I know there are a few like me, they are just like me, rather alone than being used by those human cretaures or the Others, they are all the same, those few keep hidden, keep on the move, in the shadows, i choose to stay in the area i grew up, just because i like it here, even though i know this will change soon, the future is happening, my kind loves thsi changing and adapting, humans and thsoe very human Others are nt very good at that, it will be nice to see how it all will go. I grew up to just be an observer, no one really needs me, the work i set myself to do has been done, i just sit out my time and write. Nobody will ever know who i really am, no one will ever know what i am, i am.

An end.

Tagged. (a story)

Tagged. (a story)

I am that, i am, walked miles in the same place, returned to the beginning several times, some say three and Others say for or even five times, does it matter now. The humans taggged me, because they are affraid of what i could do to them, as i reflect their own shadows they fight me. Those humans tagged me out of fear and i send a wave of fear in to the world whenever the tag is activated, yes i let them know, ’ whenever you violate me with your humanness i’ll send you some despair’, to help them look in to their own shadows. I have been cursed to be aware of everything humans deny with all their might, seeing all of them cloacked in their own darknesess, they eyes turn away quickly as my eyes fall on their faces, hiding their fear, walking a bit faster, it is the light, it is only the light, but it is more than light, it is another, one clothed in human skin and then all comparisons fail, they seek, they fish, they cajole to find informations, facts, anything to touch me, hurt me, some thing to catch me and everything turns inside out, the fishermen caught in their own nets, the hunters falling in their own pits. First they wanted me to be human, then they wanted me to be a sorcerer or a witch, then they wanted me to be an angel and then i had to be a healer, they always want me to be something, why should i be something, why not just do what i do, because i like it and i am good at it, but humans need their tags, need to put you in your place, their very faulty order, an order that spawns chaos, on and on the show goes, century after century, the same games, new tools, new technologies and that is all their is.

An end. 

Jalisco, they want to talk to me. (a story)

Jalisco, they want to talk to me. (a story)

I have been on the road longer than i can remember, sounds like a cliche, but its the truth, memories are surfacing slowly, like they have been tucked away deep in my memory. I have read about that in a book (dreamyoga, the practice of clearlight) written by a buddhist monk, some teachings or occurrences are stored on a deeper level and can only be reveiled or understood when one has reached a certain level of understanding. My understanding is that everything moves, nothing is certain, especially in the human world. 

Accidents happen and then twenty years later i come to understand what accident happened to me and there was no one willing to help me in the world around me. i found others, i practised tensegrity with them and then nothing. The thing called life took me and i went nowhere. Then i jumped in the waters again, the one thing that made me happy, finding all doors closed, no one willing to help me. So i studied by myself, made the trips on my own and got the answers, it took alot out of me, cost me a lot, attracted a lot of the bad kind of people. It changed me, made stronger, gave me even more trouble but i could bare it.

Sometime in that darkplace, i started to light that place with healing energies, it did half the job, i suddenly reached the ones i needed to speak to. A wooden shack, a group of kids my age and an old guy and i felt at home for once. Not the oppresive thoughts and negativity i knew from back home. people that listened to me, chose to listen to me. I had been looking for people like them for a long time, but most do not like the whites and yankees coming for the knowledge and information. Because most of them were drugusers and did not have a clear mind or the right intentions. There i was, totally wasted because of the trip i made and i was welcomed in to the world i was looking for to get the right information. 

While feeding the goat and chickens the old man listened to me, nodded, he said that my mindset was the mindset of all toltec and that the whites got lost in the Castaneda story, only that story is not the truth. I told him i had experienced that myself and told him what i saw, he agreed with my ideas. He explained to me there were many kinds of toltec with different kind of stories, the only thing that mattered was the stalking and keeping a clear mind, nothing else mattered, the rest was only intent, the right use of the mind. When he said those words he looked me straight in the eyes and said,’You have all these things already and as far as i can see you have taught them to yourself’. I was surprised to hear these words and told him about the first happening, he nodded, yes, he said that happened, it was a mistake made by someone in training to be a nahual. 

I revisited the first happening many times, trying to capture the faces, the place but i could only remember one face, the face of the old indian man with the long hair, his face brown full of lines and how friendly he was. I remember one female and someone who was very angry, there were other persons too, but i could not remember their faces. I remembered the yellow mist where they were and the sand i was sitting in when i saw them. One moment i was redaing in a windowsill and the next i was sitting in desert sand and saw people walking in yellow mist.

An end.

Tracking the 'G'

Tracking the 'G'

Traking the ‘G’, he is just an archetype everybody said, don’t look for a ghost, no one could hold me back, i kept searching, taking chances, making big leaps, putting a lot of stress on my self. Untill i landed in the area between Mexico City and the Yucatan, being a tourist you could say, but a strange one, my friends said that area is the place you’ll find someone. I got tapped on the shoulder, a little man standing behind me, smiling face but something else behind it. ‘You have come so far’ he said, ‘What do you need from us that you don’t already know’. I looked at him couldn’t keep my hand still, my head bobbing all the time, he nodded and he gave me images and stories and i was filled with an enormous happiness i hadn’t felt for a long time. All he showed me past, he looked at me, i could my head still this time, he said, ‘new times need new warriors, don’t let me and the other groups push you in a corner’, he nodded as giving me the push to not take him to seriously. Me, so stupid, i choked up, everything in his demeanor told me that he saw me - a mere youngling - as an equal and that really choked me up. Such an old wise man, seeing me a guy thirty or forty years younger than him as an equal. That is how a tracked a ‘G’ and got my moneys worth as they would say, but the hunger for more knowledge is still in me and now at long last know how to do it, without any worry or thoughts, i can dance the dance my way without any guilt or a reason to explain, i have ultimately become myself and i know who that is……………..a mystery like all the G’s that have gone before us, gone before me and i truly feel free as the teachers wanted me to be.

An end. 

Ode to love and sexuality

A little adventure in words and pictures.

This is and was an ode to sexuality and sensuality, a present for a girl who does not really know what love is. i am just a writer, telling a story, especially her story. Anybody can download the poetry pieces  and read them, if they can decipher them, i used a very cheap camera. But it gives the story or this project some mystery too. This is an ode to the mistery of love, one only a few can work out. Most humans take it for granted, like the boyfriend she has. people sidestep when they are not happy and a lot of people do it. I think a lot of people are used to be unhappy in their relationships. They side step and punish those who are or were not aware of the other partner. There might be a book in it, it is allready a book, that what you read above. Written with a lot of love for someone who isn't loved enough and thinks she deserves to be mistreated.

Love and light,

Many humans could use  a dose of that.

The Love Letter. (revised, re-edited and added too.)

The Love Letter. (revised, re-edited and added too.)

This is a kind of Shamballa update. Because of the downloads we receive monthly, all kinds of memories are being shaken loose, things most of us forgot and remember much, much later when we are pensioners. That is to late for any serious illuminate and thank god there are many ways for illuminates to speed up the recovery of all memory and stray energies stored in those tidbits.

 Two days ago i had to think about an old girlfriend or better girl ‘friend’, a beautifull redhaired lady i was in love with in another life. Then i was reasonably innocent and young, i could shield myself from the dirt flying around in the world around me.
Not long after that my old self died, again (second time), i was clean of my story and free of memories, there  was nothing, nothing to suppress, i dared to look in the mirror at myself for years and say; ‘I know you through and through’ , without blinking. Not much later i banned mirrors from my life for a few years.

I had to think of that beautifull red lady, thought about a special loveletter i had sent her. I had saved the little cartons from my sigarette paper boxes(they are not really boxes but there is no better word for it), and wrote a love letter on them and sent it to her. After i sent it i obviously regretted doing it, uncool of a guy to admit to these feelings and more of that bullshit and commitment issues, a classic, yes, yes, as a human you are being bothered by these things.

I remember a telephone conversation and me stoned (those rock n’roll days) and tonguetied(stoned and repressed), could not tell her i loved her. I never saw her again.  

Tonight i sat on the couch, thought about the letter and decided to write another one. I had saved the little cartons and started to write, but it would not asume the form of a letter, a loveletter or whatever. But that beautifull red, what would she look like, ten years later, ten years older, like me, with a child, i told her that already. The last bit is me being a bit ahead of myself.

When she told me she would leave to study somewhere i was so stupid to look into her future and tell it to her, tell her she would have a baby and that her man, friend, would leave her. Yes, honesty, stupidity was always part of me. I saw her get angry, scared a bit, we talked on and it was forgotten. But the story still existed in my head. (Or is it her remembering that story of the past and me, being one of the two in the cast of that scene, felt her remembering that story and i ignited by it started this chapter) Saturday morning i threw it in to the aether, ‘I am sorry i made that prediction’, i should not have said it, should not have told her fate, i should just have told her that i loved her, no puppy love, it was not puppy love, it was real, the whole package, body and mind, talked to me, back then.  But i do not have that kind of love any more, i have changed to much inside, i am not human anymore, never want to be one anymore, not for any treasure in the world, but to see her again, what kind of woman will she be now…….that is what i like to know, what happened to her and tell her what i have done, my adventures in sorcery land. After that i would leave it to the gods, to do as they will. And tehy wil and do as they do, as we are just some bugs in the garden.

Now i made another letter,wrote it, now twelve little cartons, even a mini envelope, i don’t know if i did that back then. It is still enjoyable to make all kinds of stuff.
So, if i see her again, i will give her that little envelope, even though the contents is totally different than i wanted it to be. It is the truth, if she can understand it or wants too, can accept it or not does not really matter, it is a gesture, a scene in a movie that is my life and will never be made because the things that matter are so outrageous that i did not have the time to really write about them.  But even that last thing will be done in the books i am writing now. There is talk one of my books will be published in january 2011, maybe even two. The gods know where it will go, i’ll wait and see, i really can’t be bothered with it. I lived a lifetime in a few years and will never be paid or remunerated for it. I started my pensioners life already, although one would not see it looking at me.

This is, was the memory of a girl, now a beautifull woman with a son of nine years or so, i think. If the gods want it i’ll meet her, feel if there still is a spark. The only person from the past i would like to see again, the rest is not worthwhile thinking about, has no meaning at all. This meaning there is nothing of me still stuck in the past with people that have no meaning for me any more.

love and light

For that beautifull redhead.

This chapter is to be found in the book, The blue cats of Grau. Book 3 of the Multidimensional Chronicles.