N* Sh*t Sh*rl*ck
DREAMING & SCHEMING
@@@ MAKE PHOTOCOPIES AT JIM'S PLACE.
@@@ DOWNLOAD MAPS AND OTHER MULTIMEDIA FROM JIM'S PLACE.
@@@ MAKE CD'S OR DVD'S AT JIM'S PLACE.
@@@ Include somewhere, a link to John's Animated Paradise site.
@@@ Proof of my psychic gift: how I find the PERFECT images for my tales.
@@@ I don't care if I"m beat up, sent to prison or kileld. I am confident my angles will provide and protect. Even in prison if it comes to that. A lot of people will have compassion for me (inc. prisoners and their guards, cops, etc.). Besides, I'll finally get the false teeth I so crave. I will be seen as a liberator, not just for gays, but for all the downtrodden.
@@@ Bar scene: can't be a regular unless you're a drunken sot, or look the other way. Very surreptitious, or so they think. Zeus is simply giving them "enough rope to hang themselves". (Come up with an original variation of that phrase.)
@@@ The truch of God, angels, etc. has been co-opted by church, gov't, schools, etc. We have been brainwashed. Nonetheless that is the Great Challenge to be overcome...and as brazen as this sounds, I DO have a way through (and out of) this miserable existence withOUT commiting suicide. And mine is a JOYFUL strategy.
@@@ My fantasy of being a great detective who invented deep self-hypnosis to lose his memory of who he is, and create a new personna in order to solve a case.
@@@ Living w/the curse of cassandra. Difficulty with having an extraordinary life is that no one believes you. Like my Jonny who thought I ws making up the antagonists in my building.
@@@ Include my dream as a child when I told Zeus "You're nothing but an oversized Cecil B. DeMille."
@@@ Drug dealers will surrender to me. What will I do with that power? Univ. health care, etc. I will employ the creme de la creme from various groups: cops, firemen, etc. @@@ More and more, people will wake up to my incredible gift, and deposit more and more $$$ into my Paypal account.
@@@ Myself, I will transform into perfect youth (implied in 2_angel.htm). My bad teeth will recover.
@@@ All my troubled buddies will heal and return to me like prodical sons. @@@ One way ANYONE can mae this a better 'hood is to say NO to solicitors in coffeehouses and other eating/drinking establishments. Otherwise this threatens to FLOOD such hangouts with MANY soliciting daily! If you'd like, you can follow the solicitor outside and offer to contribute some money as a goodwill gesture. @@@ Why are people so compliant to such unwelcome behavior? Perhaps the cult drugs our water supply!
@@@ Refer to Hypatia of Alexandria:
good example of how gossip CAN kill (quoting from a college student's report):
Hypatia lived in Alexandria when Christianity started to dominate over the other religions. In the early 390's, riots broke out frequently between the different religions. Cyril, a leader among the Christians, and Orestes, the civil governor, opposed each other. Hypatia was a friend of Orestes and it is believed that Cyril spread virulent rumors about her. In 415 AD, on Hypatia's way home, a mob attacked her, stripped her and killed her with pieces of broken pottery. Later, the mob dragged her through the streets.
@@@ My evidence of crime is stricly CIRCUMSTANTIAL. You can't bring this to the attention of a jury. But this is how they get away with their crimes. What they don't care to realize is all this bad behavior will EVENTUALLY grab them by the throat and start SHAKING them like an irate King Kong. I trust the angels to protect me. @@@ My scheme is to control all the drug flow throughout San Francisco. Then convert each dealer to bettering lives, including switching entirely to marijuana. Is such a thing possible? Am I slaying windmills, chasing wills o' the wisp, elusive butterflies, rainbows and pigs that fly? Perhaps. But keep this in mind, too:
"We have no enemies, only teachers."
[Matthew 17:20] If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.
@@@ How do you create a safer neighborhood, a safer society? You DON'T appeal to ANY organizations at large (such as the police department, city hall, your local church, or community meetings. You actively SEEK out a few good apples from EACH of these groups, and form your own network.
@@@ People who have good fortune in their career, domestic life etc. often take it for granted. The WORST offenders however, are those who shove their blessing in your face...and blame others not so fortunate, label them losers.
@@@ "White magic"...can't get published conventionally for two major reasons (images and real names/descriptions/places w/o permission). I want these chronicles to be so incredible, it will take wing throughout the world, starting with cyberspace.
Oh, funny you should bring that up, Eleanor. Larkin LOVES to embrace his friends and holler "Wiiiiilbuuuuur" while giving them a big ol' bear hug, and raising them off the floor. Of course, he denies ME that thrill, ever since I was mugged and lost his friendship immediately after. In fact, he seems to ENJOY hugging his buddies overzealously if I am anywhere in the vicinity, witnessing. The BASTARD! He loves me so much, he prefers to press MY buttons more than anyone else's. But I forgive him, as I understand PERFECTLY why he's behaving that way. It's a test.
If I react in envy, I lose. But if I remain tolerant and respectful, I win his heart forever...for he then realizes I am truly a GOOD friend who'll never act petty and small-minded just because he isn't giving ME the attention I so crave from him. I am very HONORED that he puts so much ATTENTION into trying to hurt my feelings, whenever I appear in his vicinity.
But you also need to know this: whenever we are under the same roof (meaning, a gay bar) he will NEVER let anyone harm or threaten me. He's proven that SEVERAL times in the past 11 months. If someone starts to get belligerent over me, sure enough: Larkin will appear right behind the cur, hovering over him like a warrior angel, ready to strike him down at the least provocation towards me. They are quickly driven away, never to darken my door again. Yet during such scenarios, whenever I turn to Larkin to say thanks, he'll turn tail and disappear from my presence, like I had leprosy!
That's because (I've concluded) he's owned by drug dealers who despise me, and they could make his life VERY miserable if they every catch him (again) protecting me. He shows his love, always. It is just that this is a GANGSTER adventure, and I have to learn the ropes. And so I am, better and better. I just LOVE Damon Runyon characters and situations...be careful what you wish for!
@@@ How nice these Chronicles print out, w/o changing a thing!
@@@ Copyright issue over the illustrations.
@@@ To the Irish Angel in my life:
@@@ People with cancer, AIDS, etc. should take hope and inspiration in my true tales...for they are living, vibrant PROOF the a loving creator DOES exist, along with MAGIC.
@@@My vision about Jesus losing his memory...one of Trickster Zeus's grand jokes. So many others have same delusion, but myself. And: What if Zeus and Apollo reincarnate in every generation, to play out these fantastic adventures?
I feel like Anne Frank hidden away in a stuffy attic amid a City Of Demons:
Yet the Light of Hope burns brightly in her innocent bosom, and she continues to take pen to her beloved blog...each and every day. And each and every day she summons up another Positive Thought Of Most Profound Implication. Only my attic is this: more than 22 years' social isolation cultivated by my so-called enemies, this "Order of The Disciples Of The Zodiac Killer".
But I take the Buddhist spin: "We have no enemies only teachers." Thus all my enemies--even The Most Profoundly Wicked--are playing their role as protagonists, that I may struggle mightily towards success, and become a World Renowned Hero Of Herculean Proportion in so doing. IOW: My Enemies are also Beloved Angels, who I'm sure grieve terribly over Evil Wrought Upon Me by their own divine hands! But they are only doing what needs be done for my soul to fulfill a Most Remarkable Destiny. They nail me to the cross, and in so doing, nail each other! (Hmmm, sounds like a sex orgy to me.) :b
So my angels are sicko's, what's a girl to do? I like to joke about My Dear Street Buddy Jonny, who is so much like a Protector Soul to me (or at least he was until The Big Betrayal Of January Oh-Six):
"No wonder my life is such a mess. My guardian angel's a junkie!"
If this is true, if ANY of this is true, then I'd say my life has become one of The Greatest Stories Ever Told. But I'll let you in on a secret:
I am AFRAID to complete this story...afraid in spite of its beauty, its brilliance...this Holy Grail Of My Soul. Afraid because Goddess may deem a Most Dramatic Finale To My Unbelievably Awesome Odyssey.
For, like Anne Frank's sad fate, She Who Weaves Our Lives Together And Unravels Them Too, may decide that My Sacred Message Which Will Ultimately Free All Homosexuals Everywhere From The Chains Of Terror, will have much more impact if I am swept from this planet by a shockingly tragic and mortal demise. (Can you say "Harvey Milk"?)
But that's not having FAITH, is it? Shame, shame, shame on me...slap my wrist and take a pee (I trod The Path Of Joy, you see)! Now it is up to each of you, how you should regard my story and consequently, me, ZEKE KRAHLIN. You may not like what phantom stirs in your heart. And if that be the case, well: the answers to changing your life for the better are all contained within this single, ghastly tale (with hyperlinks to additional wisdom.) But if you conclude I am nothing more than a crazy fag...then may Goddess have mercy on your punky, stinky, rotten little excuse of a soul! And BTW:
I ascend to Mt. Olympus where Mighty Zeus is seated on His throne. To the left is another slightly smaller throne, though no less exquisitely carved. It is empty. To my right, another throne identical to the left one. It is occupied. By an angel. Saint Michael I presume? (He nods his head at me.) Zeus offers me the empty throne.
"But that's Jesus's place. I couldn't sit there!"
"Ezekiel, don't be silly. You're Our Most Favored Guest. My Son, were He here right now, would consider it a great honor. Please, be seated and ask the question for which I summoned you in the first place."
"Question? I don't remember asking you any question." I ponder.
"Yes. It was two days ago, you had a question that intrigued me very much," He insists. "Give yourself a moment."
I lean back, caressing my chin in studious contemplation, then: "Eureka! I DO remember."
Here is my question: "I don't necessarily believe this guy Jesus really exists, but if he did..."
Zeus interrupts: "Doesn't exist? INTERESTING. Do go on."
"Well, I'VE never met Him, not even in my dreams and visions. Never." I look around. "He's not here now is He?"
"Ummm, yes and no. Please continue."
"I don't even think YOU really exist. You could simply be a figment of my imagination, a manifestation of another dream vision...an undigested bit of tofu, a blot of Veganaise, a crumb of rice cake, a fragment of underdone tomacco."
"Oh that's royal!" Zeus thunders in laughter. "You're a hoot Ezekiel, a real hoot!" He dries His Copious Tears, then settles down again. "Interesting premise. Continue."
"Anywayz. If Jesus does exist, along with His Holy Father...Who is Yourself, I presume."
Zeus glows warmly, and we are bathed in a shower of golden light. (A circle of angels high above are pissing from some Damn Righteous Nicely Cut Wangers, grasping each other's in a Divine Daisy Chain.) I tear myself away from this unexpected distraction, to state my premise:
"If He exists, I conclude that Christ doesn't really care whether you believe in Him or not. What DOES matter is that you live by the Golden Rule. Believing in Jesus or not, has no bearing on how God judges you. Correct?"
"Uh, yes, ab-so-loot-a-men-tay, Ezekiel! Neither My Beloved Son NOR Myself, who IS Your Creator whether you believe in Him or not," He stifles a guffaw, "do not care a harpie's turd if you believe in either of Us. The Golden Rule IS as you correctly surmised, THE Measure Of All Things To Be Judged."
"Aha, I thought so," I smugly proclaim, straightening my back with pride, smiling into the Ultimate Deity's cold, stormy eyes.
Zeus leans closer. I shiver ecstatically, He is that handsome. (Or maybe this throne in which I'm seated is wired for electricity.)
He chooses His next words carefully: "But...there is just one important aspect to all this, that seems to elude you."
"Okay, I'll bite. What?"
"No one really has to believe in Me OR Jesus. But if he doesn't, then he MUST believe in one particular person above all others."
I am delightfully shocked at this declaration. "Oh?" I query. "And who..."
He abruptly presses a glorious finger to my lips. The salt is sweet! His scent: like tangerine musk. I drool.
"Hush, this is important! Allow me to complete my thought." Zeus takes a moment to clear his throat (and the clouds gather, the skies rumble, lightning bolts flash above, angels zip up their robes and swiftly depart). He puffs up his uber-chest in a piano-grand display ("Oh Bluto!" swoons Olive Oyl), leans even closer (cool breath cleansing my face like well-water), then declares: