Free Psychotic Readings

Psychotic readings.

 

I'm only glad to know she wasn't killed. That was a couple of years ago. Just knowing they shot her destroyed my world for a while. I only hope she and her husband are content to live on the island and forget overseas work for a while. I had to. I even turned down $90US/hr work in Arabia to preserve my sanity. I am disgusted knowing that she was just a means for millionaires to get even richer. But so was I.

I realize now that working for big money exposes me to big assholes. People who want my talent, but only while it suits their immediate needs. Later they don't answer the phone. Fook them all. Some day I will release what I know about corporate America AND all those slimy European equivalents. Dave, I will be telling your wife about that night at the Villa Capri in Trinidad. She deserves to know what a scumbag you are. I'll do it while you're out of town porking rentals, as is usual for you.

Derek, they know you cheated on the final, they have the proof. But they are sitting on it, hoping you will become valuable. Let's have a coke and a smile.

 

The more money I earned...the fucked-uppier my life became.

Now I do what pleases me. I don't make as much money, but I am happy. I create little software gems for people who are grateful for what I do, and I let the political shit pass over me while I try to take deep breaths and achieve nirvana.



You have led a fucking rich life, George. Cherish that life, and cherish the souls who have sacrificed to give you what you have.

We will all meet someday around the final campfire and laugh and hug and drink mosomphymion and remember our amazing adventures.

Nothing that ever existed is ever lost.



Take care of yourself, my friend.

 

Also George: Fucking forgive yourself. Cuz: The spirits knew what they were doing when they dealt you this mess. You are a pawn of the spirits, George. But, for a purpose. And that purpose is: To love and accept yourself for who you are and what you have done.

So...rest now in the sweet arms of your angels who are with you 24/7/365.25.

See...I accounted for leap years there.

 

Anyway George...somebody just told me that she told you that you needed to do something. I dunno...is this true, or am I just crazy?

 

Yea, that's why I went into rehab, not because I was strung out, but to avoid jail. Totally worth it. What I found about money is that the government has a system that kicks in just as you think you're "making it" and buries you with with complications. All of them designed to drain your resources.

Paying off the house allowed me to live as spartan as I like. I could have just hunkered down and chased the corporate "atta boy" life. I tried, I really tried, especially in Schenectady working for Spacely. But I just can't be a freakin sprocket for more than a year or two before I'm so far into everybody else's head, I forget my own.

I suggest avoiding the book "Speedreading People". I learned a lot from it that has become automatic. All I gained was knowing that most of corporate America rides on lies. And that model has been replicated around the globe. And they say Americans have no culture!

Whore Hey

 

Do you really do psychotic readings?

 

Well... They aren't psychic readings.


Although they do make about the same amount of sense...

 

Whore Hey? Jorge? Spinnin down Tijuana way...hold onto your ass. Third-world shit won't go away...it's part of all our D. N. A.

I think you bought an E-ticket in Disneyland, Jorge. You have seen the corpses in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, and the stench of rotting souls is filling your nostrils.

So...did you put this on your action item list? Are you leveraging this experience to achieve more synergy going forward?

I still swallow that pill, Jorge...cuz: I gotta eat...so's I can support my ex-wife and kids. So see: They got me by the balls. Wutcha gonna do if you can't come through?

Right???

Wutcha gonna do now, Jorge? Cuz that is where the rubber meets the road, innit?

 

Only when it hits me. Like that last time you had a sparkler in your hand, the weather should have been warmer, thankfully it wasn't!

 

You are a fucking amazing dude, dude. I would build an altar to you in my living room, except it would block my view of my TV, and we need to have our priorities, right?

You have a story to tell that pretty much NOBODY ELSE can tell. So...wuddya think about that?

I dunno nuthin, of course. I do a lot of thinking and very little acting. I am merely a dweeb.

However if I could count you among my friends, I would consider my life significantly richer.

Seems to me you are a pretty competent writer.

Again tho: I dunno shit.

It is just that: If I had a story like yours to tell, I would prolly wanna find some way to tell it. And I think you could do that fucking effectively...if that were something you might want to do? Notice my use of the Subjunctive mood there? Hardly anybody knows how to do subjunctive anymore, more's the pity...

If it were just all about YOU...well, hell, note my use of the subjunctive yet AGAIN.

But see: It is NOT just. About. You.

Dude.

So...I think you have a gift you could give to the human race. You think I am wrong about this?

You could use that internal pain. My dear spirit guide Deanna once told me in an email, years ago: "I value people who sublimate."

You know wut I am sayin here...

All of society's advances have come at the price of individuals' pain.

So...who are you, Jorge?

 

Just so you know, my "Spirit Guide" (for lack of a specific name) was not planned. In the 80s I met him in Tennessee near Morristown (near the road I eventually took to New York 17 years later). Back then he had long red hair and piercing blue eyes, no telling what Bobby D looks like today. While he was not the first psychic I met with over the years, he was the last. Everything he said came to pass. It was the first time I realized it could be genuine.

A few years later I moved to Lake Mary Florida and spent a great deal of time in a township called Cassadaga. Most of the people there were of questionable talent, but the place itself was relevant. As if "holy ground". I was still seeing things in utter random, meaningless flashes. Like daydreaming and being able to change the channel with no lag, as fast as it wanted to go. I saw Bigfoot in the reflection of a diamond at a pawn shop, stupid shit like that. I found that drugs, up to LSD and MDMA, didn't make any more sense of it.

All of that changed when I met Jane, my wife. More specifically, her mother, a self-professed "Madrina". Since I never forget a face, I realized when I finally met her that she had been stalking me. I worked for Circuit City when I was in college in a shopping center across from a massive tourist mall in Orlando. Where her mother worked in a health food store. As I met other members of her family I realized they had been vetting me pretty hard.

After we were married I discovered why. Their plan was to blackmail me for shit they saw me do (keep in mind who I am) before I married Jane. What they didn't know what that Jane was already well aware of what a strung out nightmare I had become. Speed and crack allowed me to win sales awards (people who rarely sleep can work every hour a store is open). I let Jane manage all the money since I burned through it so readily. The problem was that she didn't realize how quickly I'd turn to crime to score the dollars I needed to keep my mind-expanding upper habbit going.

I was the worst. I had the perfect wife, who never did more that a few glasses of wine and never had so much as a parking ticket. Contrasted with me, an older, cynical psychopath who saw concepts like revenge and conquest as therapy, Jane brought order, but also camouflage. She was the one who recognized that some of my rants toward bosses and annoying coworkers were corrosive because they were totally accurate. Manager Bob really was stealing spiffs and funneling sales to his own peeps. Because of her I began to realize why I could hold some jobs better than others.

Ultimately it was because I already knew before I took the job exactly how badly it would end. Too many people have tells and some reveal the whole timeline. Especially psychopaths. Many of them don't realize how transparent they are to other psychopaths. Others are masters. A great study is selling cars, or delivering pizzas. Same exact kinds of psychotic assholes fight over customers for the same reasons. They know instinctively who will be the best customers. They don't realize it's only because of their own calculating nature.

The unfortunate side for so many of us is the way really dark and negative experiences wake things up. I've tried so many other things, even jumping out of an airplane with a glorified bedsheet on my back to kick it in gear to no avail. But losing a job, getting a ticket, cheating girlfriend or intense family strife could send me on a jag for weeks. I have boxes of spiral notebooks going back to the late 70s that narrate this shit. I figured it might be of some value long after I croak. I counted all of my trips for the same reason. My last trip, number 89, was in 1995.

While I appreciate your confidence, I am not seeking recognition. Most of the people I could effect will likely never see my words. They won't know that they should have taken the first offer or avoided the oysters. But someday, historians and anthropologists will have the means to mass-analyze all of the shit we people have been saying and writing. They will have graphic proof that ideas and whims ride within and without. How else would I know the shoe size of a random stripper or the anniversary of a hotel clerk?

I see no right or wrong, except that I have been so very wrong many times. I'm notorius for flipping a mental coin on things like colors and potential intent. Colors were a big thing for Bobby D, but I was never able to command them. The only time I saw them vividly was coming out of anesthesia after an umbilical hernia reminded me that I was born and not hatched. Who? If I knew who I am, I might not need a dozen or so personalities to get through a month. It doesn't distress me. It keeps me organized. Two of them are way better with money!

Jalllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

 

You see a lot, Jorge.

You said that you can't see me very well tho...I think. Is that what you said?

I don't always see clearly either. What I get to see is filtered. See wut I am sayin here?

So...wut you see is filtered also. As it is for every living human.

Who is doing this filtering, you might well arsk? And so I will tell you: The spirits.

They filter what we see for the purpose of getting us to do specific shit to achieve a purpose.

Whose purpose? The spirits' purpose. Dude.

So I have a proposition for your consideration. Who made you what you are? Well, it was, like, God...innit? So what did God hope to achieve by creating a psychopath like you?

My proposition partially involves an observation: If you were truly a psychopath, then why would you be feeling any guilt whatsoever for things you have done?

So therefore, part of my proposition is: Maybe you are not actually a psychopath.

Another part of my proposition is: God created you for a purpose. In fact, God fucking MADE you what you are. So tell me...and this is important: Why would God make a fucker like you?

Cuz God has certain goals to accomplish...right? So how the fuck is he using a dweeb like you to accomplish any fucking purpose of his???



The "spirit guides" who stalk you might have some amazing goals to accomplish...you just don't never know.

And: Why would they need YOU to accomplish any of their shit?

So: A couple of thoughts for your consideration.

Thought #1: Some of the shit the spirits are doing to you are designed to change you in some ways.

Thought #2: The shit you have learned could help a lot of other souls on their journeys.

I would not be too critical if you just didn't give a shit about other souls. Been there, done that.

You don't need to understand everything to teach what you do know to those who are able to hear it.

I had to re-start this reply in the midst of a fucking power outage. WTF??? Who the hell know why or what or how?

Well, I will tell you: I possess a few pieces of the puzzle. You possess some of the same pieces, and also some pieces I don't possess.

So tell me: Would you just want to hold onto your pieces and never let anybody else see them?

Are you getting some of what I am saying, Brother Jorge?

 

And Jorge...maybe you fear to reveal shit you have done. And I will tell you this: The spirits require payment for the gifts they give. That payment is extracted in terms of shit we feel guilty about.

God made us what we are tho...for a purpose. So why the fuck should we feel guilty about anything???

Humans are not God, of course...humans could make us pay major big-time for shit we have done.

So...doing this shit requires some strength, innit?

So...we need to get to the point where the shit humans can do to us is less important that the assignment God has given us.

"I beg your pardon...I never promised you a rose garden."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2-eclUz-RYI

Hokey shit, innit? It is just that the truth frequently comes in hokey media.

This song is part of my murky past...

 

Gotta love that big hair, of course.

 

Oh that's not what I fear. I fear going to prison and having to get engaged to several horny inmates for some of the stuff I've done!

 

Point taken. And anyway, I have not revealed all I might about my own past, have I? So: Who am I to talk?

Well, I like to talk, tho. Especially after drinking a bottle of wine.

 

It's not always easy to tell past from future events. Most of them last 2 seconds or so at best. Others are milliseconds. And sometimes I don't see shit for weeks.

Maybe it's time for #90

 

I hate to say it...but you lost me with that #90 reference.

You make me think of waves and tides. I believe that our ancestors a coupla millions years ago or more spent their lives mostly in the water on the seashore, and that is how we started standing upright on our two hind legs. So waves and tides got to be important. Maybe women's moon connections too, I dunno.

You have a spirit guide, apparently. Or something like that. You know mine?

 

I no longer know mine, lost touch in the 80s. I've learned more from my mistakes anyway. As for #90, I have had 89 trips, mostly on LSD. The first in 1980 under a bridge between Vallejo and Sears Point. My last trip (#89) was back in 1995 when Jane, my wife, showed me an ultrasound and I learned a son was on the way. I was horribly strung out on crack then and the trip stopped it like a switch. I didn't want to be another one of those strung out dads. So, I fixed the problem well ahead of his birth.

He's fully grown now and has a better career in front of him than I ever did. And I never went back to the hard stuff. Aromatic appetite stimulants, scotch and the occasional beer are all I do these days. When I'm not doing Jane!