Erotic filmmaker and novelist. I use x-rated heterosexual short films as a tool for spiritual enlightenment. Laugh all you want. This actually works for many people. Fucking is universal! And very popular!
Millennials Can't Wait for Baby-Boomer to Die
Generation Z and Generation A will probably feel the same way about the Millennials in forty years! But the Millennials have ten thousand good reasons to want the old decision-makers dead. Dead and buried, and their policies and truly-bizarre views of reality, entirely forgotten. It is no exaggeration to say the Baby-Boomers and the generation previous fucked up royally, made bad choices in all aspects of economic, political and social reform. Those two generations created a 21st Century full of nonsense ideas, with no economic opportunity for tens of millions of people. Those bad choice may lead to a world economic Depression far worse than the Great Depression of 1929 to 1939. Wealth has been firmly concentrated in the upper .001%. And those oligarchs are not creating tens of millions of good jobs. They hoarding the piles of cash, for reasons no rational human can understand. For no reason at all, except that they can. The most wealthy have now secured wealth to make billionaires of the children, grand-children and great-great grandchildren. The rest of us are up the creek without a paddle. Without even a boat. Do not imagine the wealth will be spread evenly among all the little people when our current crop of billionaires kick the bucket.
Report from the Provinces
Four months ago I moved to rural America. I am blissfully buffered from hours of irrelevant noise, simply because there exists no reliable satellite on cable service in my neighborhood. With my satellite dish scanning the heavens, an impressive three-feet wide, looking as if I could talk to Moon Base Alpha with no lag time, in reality on good days I view five to eight minutes of streaming or video, before my screens freeze, leaving me with blissful dead air.
Get Off Your Whining Zombie Ass
Many young Americans take freedom as a given, and also see they have very little freedom, because all costs tend to rise beyond their means. In many ways there is less opportunity for satisfying work in the big, grand and decadent United States than there is in Ukraine. Ukraine is more like the U.S. after WW II. In 1950, there were lots and lots of jobs, plenty things needed doing, and there are more good jobs than people to fill them. And, at that time free education for millions of veterans. Now, in the U.S. there are always more people than there are good jobs. Most young Americans have not compared their lives to the lives of young Ukrainians. Perhaps they should. And then tens of thousands of young Americans should make a plan. And think about how to side-step the slave-owners, those people who attempt by every way possible to corral them, and beat them into submission. That is, the corporate CEOs, and the predatory demands of their own Federal and State governments. Young Ukrainians are practical and thrifty, and allow no one to corral them and beat them into submission.
Six Famous American Poets
Perhaps now is a good time to remember the poets who inspired me, made me think, made me consider language carefully. I paid close attention to a few poets in the 1980s and 1990s. I corresponded with William Stafford, and sometimes with Naomi Shihab Nye, W.S. Merwin and Robert Bly. These poets along with Pablo Neruda, Czeslaw Milosz and Marvin Bell opened my imagination to the subtle intensity of language, diverse ways to deliver a story, or a hint of a story, or the mood which precedes the story. Layered phrases of meaning with hints of further possibilities.
The Sacred Followers of Roscoe Forthright. Chapter Two.
[from the Journals of Garabed Gregorian, edited by Roscoe Forthright] Chapter Two. Introduction. Every worthwhile cult has an insightful back-story. Before Roscoe explored his own spiritual sexuality, he was influenced by various religions and neo-pagan occult ideas. And he had prophetic visions. Three celestial visitations in particular shaped the development of Roscoe's ideas and his philosophy of Oneness. After having conversations with Deities from Christian, Jewish, Islamic and Buddhist pantheons, a person is forced to revise their definitions of “Reality,” to include the new, and shocking spiritual experiences. The visitations fortified Roscoe's determination to discover accurate, and all-compassing definitions of Reality. He wants to know the Truth. Not the half-truths of previous religious and scientific thought; not the half-truths of major and minor philosophers. Roscoe wants an experiential truth, a truth immediately perceived and understood, without the complex linguistic and cultural twists of logic, which are mandatory in most religions and philosophies.
The Glowing Purple Cock
Forest Ritual We see a wide-view, a misty forest, firs, cedars, spruce, large maple and black cottonwood trees. Our attention focuses on the silhouette of a grove of giant cedars, towering in the half-lit sky. We hear rustlings, gentle wind in the boughs, crickets, frogs and other early morning forest sounds. Our view narrows, passes between the dark trees like a slow flying bird, to reveal a silent lake. We pause at the shore. A trout jumps, the splash echoes, and rings of concentric circle widen from where the fish had been. We hear the eerie, haunting voice of a loon, quiet at first, then filling the air over the lake, as if some evil will soon occur. A great horned owl, flaps quickly by, startled from high branches. A bullfrog begins to boom, as if at our feet, increasing our sense of dread. The fog over the lake now appears ominous, moving slowly, in thick billows toward the shore. The camera turns, as if running back into the woods, following a deer trail along a narrow gurgling stream. We hear panting, as if the cameraman is terrified, trying to escape some horrible menace. We reach a clearing, where the cameraman stops, leaning on a thick maple tree to catch his breath. We hear him growing calmer. We still here the loon, far off, as background to the loud, gurgling stream. Our view widens to take in the entire clearing. We see lush ferns four to six feet high, bright green moss and orange plate-size mushrooms cling to fallen cedar trees. Suddenly, we hear a strong gust of wind toss the high cedar branches. Two crows start up an angry conversation, raucous accusing each other of some awful social blunder. The argument continues as we peek past a tangle of blackberry vines and milk thistles. The crows grow silent. We hear only a solitary wood thrush some distance away. Under a canopy of fir and cedar trees we see three female witches hooded in green, black and dark brown robes. The robes are open to the waist , revealing firm, pale white breasts. Each woman wears a red leather collar; silver chains dangle down between their breasts. The witches stand around a wide cedar stump, which rises chest-high from the mossy forest floor. The stump has is six feet wide or more, and has been polished to a smooth finish, lacquered in clear varnish. On this high-gloss surface two three-foot high red candle burn to the left and right. This is their altar. This is the place of sacrifice.