Growl.

no

I am cold. I want to be warm. My mother always gives me one of her bullshit guilt trips about staying in Wisconsin while I am out here. It fucking enrages me when she does that like I’m not a man and can’t rip her head off. I hate it when women do that in general. Lack of respect is all I see. But I am cold even though it’s Puerto Rico. I woke up aching in my lower back, neck and joints. I have been demanding a lot from my body. Capoeira is demanding. Stand. Ginga. Crouch. Ginga. Au. Ginga. Spin. Ginga. It’s a little roller coaster. Capoeira demads your power and your energy just as much as it demands your calm and your flow. I hate it. I still do it. But the muse. The music made it better. Angry. Frustrated. Go ginga. Muscle rub and solvent on my joints makes it feel more cold. I hate cold. I used to snowboard. Very brief period of my life. Would buy mini bottles of Fireball and do it for hours. Take breaks in the tavern and buy chili. Always alone. Made the best of it I suppose. White people. White people having fun. White people having tribes. White people having community. White power. Fuck white. White evil. White jealousy. White abomination and destruction and fear of anything not white triggering violence and opportunism. You fucking losers. Chicken. TACO. IYKYK. Remembering Djing at stupid fucking white people weddings where they did the same white people dances, and gave the same faggy white people dinner speeches, and bragged mirror image accomplishments. White weakness. Destruction Domination White Weakness Steak Kill White Weakness Pointless Shameless White Weakness Covid White Weakness Smallpox White Weakness Attention Seeking White Weakness Claiming the Discoveries of other Great Non White Men White Weakness. Rewriting history will make it better. Killing who spread truth will make it better. We would kill you. But you will kill yourselves. It is been determined for centuries and you wrote the playbooks. The eradication of other races is a secret desire to destroy your own because you know how little value you truly bring to the table and fear others may know as well so you have plans to punish yourself before we get the chance to because when there’s nothing left to steal you will want to steal that, too...tattoo...

Fail you will fail you are failures you fail at mind you fail at body you fail at spirit you fail at tribalism you fail at tech you fail at war you fail you fail you fail FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFalling way, way down...you organize in secret to destroy and you fall way way way way down...further and fuhrer...way way down...into the nothingness which you seek because for you there is nothing to believe...dowwwwwwwwwwwn.

I wish I fantasize I hope to destroy all my enemies by alchemizing them into destroying themselves. Casting the craving to carve out their own shortcomings by any means necessary. Cut, carve, cleave, and curate. That part of you is dead and has always been dead it was born dead walking in flesh lights on a mission to make you fuck anything that moves different, even if it’s white. Talks different, even if it’s in english. Believes different, even if it’s the same book they read. Inside dead outside dead no escaping death because it walks with you it talks with you it has been soaked in your sponge brain.

I want to scream and smash this fucking cop.

Coperations.

Corporations.

Corpses.

More dead.

All dead.

Hard to feel bad for ushering the dead.

They don’t belong on this plane anyway.

The spell has been cast.

No need.

No share.

No back link.

The spell has been cast.

The dead will rest soon.

I have been wanting to cut weight for a long time.

I had to get clean first.

About 180 to 160 in roughly a month.

Still weight to cut.

But Ahti demands it in a very specific way.

Stay home. Get ripped. Get Rich.

I keep breaking the first rule. Ahti knows. Ahti encouraged it. Ahti guided it. I needed to see that breaking it was torture. Maybe there’s something fun to do. I feel so alone. Then I go out and it’s worse because I know I don’t want to hang out with any of these people. Drunk. Stimulation seeking. Buying trinkets and things. I’m confident that some of them are great. But most of them are what I used to be. I don’t want that anymore. But I don’t want to be alone. I just require a special kind of people...person...life. But my loneliness makes me break the first rule. And, so I leave. Of course if there are things I have to do, that’s just hunting and gathering. Fair. It’s nice to see faces and say hello when I’m running errands or the like. But walking that festival I could see that it wasn’t my place to be there all while suffering my loneliness.

Stay home.

Get ripped.

I played the game. I got clean. I dropped weight. I looked lean. But I could still feel the...CAN still feel the cravings.

FOMOing at the mouth. Wanting a treat. Less interested in streaming and more interested in consuming. So I am holding fat hostage. I am holding good sleep hostage. I am holding focus hostage. Because I wanted to feel loved. Love doesn’t get the job done.

Final nail in the coffin.

Will need to hit ketosis and will need to sleep more...random naps that will come when my body makes demands for them.

Get rich.

STAY HOME.

Home is the work bench. Your home may be different. Your home may be the same. STAY. WORK.

Hard to do when you are shoving fucking food in your stupid fucking face.

WORK.

You can’t because you are not clean. Busy cooking and eating. Busy going out to eat. Busy listening to some asshole on a podcast. Busy learning opinions NOT of your own making and then repeating them to be accepted by the tribe. You fucking faggot. TAKE. TAKE. TAKE. TAKE. CONSUME. CONSUME. RECEIVE. RECIEVE. RECIEVE.

Let your stupid little pea brain be filled so that you can NEVER discover who and what you actually are.

But if you can get clean...then the work will begin to happen automatically.

You will focus.

You will have ingenious ideas.

You will professionally pace and concentrate.

Flow will not just happen...you will have made it happen.

You will know when to slow...and when to strike.

A punch is not just a punch.

Ginga.

Master the basics.

Everyone want the next thing and the next thing and the next thing and the next thing and the next thing and CONSUME AND EAT AND ACCEPT AND SUMBMIT YOU STUPID FUCKING WHORE.

OR...You take one paint brush one color one canvas and you learn the many different ways and types of art you can create from that single point of consciousness...then after years of that one brush and color someone will walk by in awe to see a master painter at work...

One.

Thing.

I want to teach you how to punch.

Breathe.

Punch.

Step forward.

Punch.

Step sideways.

Punch.

Open park.

Punch.

Bathroom stall.

Punch.

Lying down.

Punch.

Punch misses.

Punch.

You get punched.

Punch.

Punch.

Punch.

Punch.

Punch.

Live in the echo chamber of your own creation.

The first punch breaks your own wrist.

The last one puts a hole in a brick.

Same punch.

Different.

Bark at a dog.

Meow at a cat.

Crow at a rooster.

One strike.

Over and over.

Mastered and Remastered.

Motivated and Remotivated.

In Raged and Enraged.

This is not a flex. This is not a test. You are here this is real this is now you are in your head get the fuck out of it it it you have work to do don’t you want to do it???????????

Flow. Punch.

Flow.

Stream.

Be.

Don’t supplicate be. Don’t beg be. Don’t care be. Don’t whine be. The mirror the be the is the I are all the same if you would be willing to see them as they ARE. Wreck the system. It’s not pointless. Your efforts are as long as they are weak and hoping the opposition will ‘learn something’ and suddenly become good boys and girls. They want you dead. If they don’t want you dead it’s because they want you stupid so you can become the walking dead as they are. But they will never accept you.

You’re in a Benz with a 100K job and a Brooks Brothers suit?

You’re still a goy.

You’re still a nigger.

You’re still a cracker...stupid fucking cracker...used as a weapon...justifying evil. Fuck you.

You’re still a spic.

You’re still a chink.

But not true.

They are dead.

Dead can’t see truth.

Dead can’t speak truth.

Religion can’t speak truth.

Religion is slavery.

Read and pay attention to see the shackles.

Look within and find remnants of the shackles still holding you in/down.

Mine told me to leave the house and go to the coffee shop for better WIFI.

Seemed reasonable.

NOT.

Stay home. Get ripped. Get rich.

Poison is outside right now.

People are sick and they are puking the echos of control all over each other. The hiss is in the ear screaming evils and it feels goooooooooooooooooood to scream them it feels self-righteous and gratifies the evil inside of you so the evil rewards you with dopamine. People on the island are always driving on their cell phones...it feels good to be stupid while you risk lives. Stupid feels goooooood. Don’t YOU want to be stupid? Don’t you? If you are stupid I will make you feel soooooo fucking goooood.

Feel good NOOOOW.

We are here to teach you what you have become too stupefied to learn alone. You must be broken. You must become clear and free. Free of guilt. Free of self-sabotage. Free of slavery.

Don’t you know you are dying just as you are meant to so what’s with all the fucking fear of dying you’re SUPPOSED TO DIE you don’t even have to kill yourself because you are already programmed for it. Nothing is true. Everything is permitted. Bawk Bawk. Chicken Chicken. Bawk Bawk. Chicken Head.

Stay stupid.

Stay angry.

Stay slave to fantasies and traumas fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you.

Stay home. Home within home withing home. Find the calm and you will witness the stream in the present moment consciousness. You will be a powerhouse and it won’t feel like power it will feel like you are god within god. You are god within god.

Who fucking cared ai said fucking tyupe blimd who fucking cares you don’t get any fucking money or sex or attention for this shit who fucking careds fuck all these fucking asssholed wwith bullshit opinons who fucking cares remove the distractions from your moind stip thinking allow the thoughts to stream slowly through your mind it is a leaf floating past you in a river you are it and it is you

good

good

when it is time you can open them again but for now who cares …... who cares … you care you see her you see the crowd you see the line connecting you see the shift you see it all sam … seeing all money …. not money … value....not value …. ener energy

have some soup

we can try it out we can give it a go

Let’s tru it all the way. Afte all, you must get to know your tool more accurately. A man is just a man, but whith a tool, he becomes two. Tyhrow your punck. You like the feeling. You always have. This is why you don’t wear gloves. You hit. It hits back. You feell alive. Maybe you don;’t like fighting. Naybe you like hammering. Maybe you like bending. You like carbing. You create with each strike and it feels better than jujst hittin a thing for the sake of hitting it. Although you would till hit a thibng for the sake of hitting it. Hit’s fun.

Another round. Clean. Birds loud. Near and far awayu. Chicke’s hungry. Home quiet. So quiet. People qalking. I thi...

Again.

Click. Clack. Sing. Song.

Top Tip. Plop Plip. Mash Mish. Splash Splish. Under Over. Outside In. Tan Tin.

Again. Run.

I sam am the one who will be leading you in this dance party for the sake of jigggggggling your butt and taking picrures for the gram slam jam kazaam thank you maam. Where are the stupid dogs that bark at me now? Whati till they wee me having a fancy cat party. They will be jealous.

K Bye.