Elevated Highway

The Black Sun.

The afterimage of Light.
The beforeimage of Dark.

Reversal of the normal and expected:
An inverted value to Reality's photograph of you
& verse-vice-a.

Happy birthday to me. Feels like an awfully even number, that, but it's also divisible by 11, which most Magick Numbers tend to be.

Going out now to fax a pile of data to Citiapartments, which will hopefully wind up causing me to have an apartment on O'Farrell and Hyde (or O'Farrell and Larkin, depending on what building I'd end up with) in a matter of two or three days.

Cross all your fingers, toes and tentacles for me.

4 days ago I arrived in San Francisco and the air was so good every time I took one breath my body thought I'd taken two. I never knew how possible it was to get high on oxygen before.

I checked in for a week at the Sweden House hotel on O'Farrell St. It's the place I was staying in the spring. I carried two handbags and Pax Latitude, my laptop. I am on a Mission, which is to find an apartment, and I didn't want to deal with lugging Max Invicta around with me.

So far I have looked at about ten places and had an application rejected from the one I liked best. At least they gave me a copy of my Equifax report. Apparently someone sharing the same given name as me has an eviction filing against them in Oregon somewhere, which could apparently cause me some serious problems until I prove that I've been in Frisco the whole first half of this year and all the time before that spinning into the beginning of time itself. This should not be too hard to do, but I hope the landlords aren't going to automatically believe Equifax is describing me, there. The report doesn't have ID information on it. What if someone is actually pretending to be me out there? That would be severely fucked!

Weird thing. When I got set up in my 938 Geary apartment back in 1992, it was also right around my birthday. Or the day after it. That was 17 years ago. My god.

On Thursday, Deek will be coming with me to Sacramento on the bus and helping me to lug Max Invicta back to the City. I can't quite carry both the computer and the peripherals including the monitor, even though it's a relatively small Flatsie Monitor, on my own. And hopefully by then the application for the latest apartment I'm shooting for will have cleared, since this time, there will be some explanation and refutation for this Scary Thing on my credit report.

This is so screwed up, that things like this can happen, how can anyone with a name like Joe Smith ever escape being dogged by other people's actions?

Even halfway into this week, I'm still feeling how sweet the air here is.

Since 21 June I've been staying with my mother in Rancho Cordova, a suburb to the east of Sacramento.

During this period, I experienced a week of hospitalization following a really bad staph infection in my right buttock, a pimple that decided to inflame itself to Death Star proportions, which drove me to a fever of 104 degrees and got really scary. When I got out of the hospital and started spending time with Mom, who's 80 years old and has 5 heart bypasses, kidney failure and respiratory troubles, we realized together that she's getting worse every day and probably won't live much longer. She can barely walk and talk and yet has been driving me to downtown Sacto to the methadone clinic EACH MORNING.

We had a talk yesterday and realised this was just not going to work. In order for me to get to the clinic on my own I'd have to take about 4 different buses and I'd barely make their hours. I cannot drive a car, I never have been able to drive. She doesn't want me to wake up one morning and find her deceased and be essentially stranded in her condo.

This is why she's offered me one hell of a birthday present this year: fundage to get set up in an apartment back in San Francisco, where I can independently function. We were going to wait until 1 August but because of some fairly lame red tape involving transfer from one methadone clinic back to the one I was going to in the City, I have to go back tomorrow.

I have a LOT of very EXTREME mixed emotions about all this. A very large part of me is feeling exactly like I am cutting and running when Mom probably could really use my help. This is the first time in my 18 years on methadone maintenance that it is significantly negatively impacting my life--were it not for this clinic bullshit I would put up with the heat and the pollution of Sacto and stay with her. I tried to convince her to come to the city with me but she just can't handle the stress of moving right now, plus she hates the City about as much as I love it.

She has become basically dependent on Percoset and Vicodin herself so she does understand that I cannot just walk off the clinic and expect to be functional at all.

I have to remember that she offered this to me, I didn't talk her into it, and it actually sets her mind at ease more if she can see me get set up with a place to live instead of worrying about what will become of me after she's gone.

I have, over the past couple of years, incessently whined about the emotive hell of losing Deek. This really puts all that in a seriously different perspective. Deek may have fallen out of love with me. But he is not DYING right before my eyes. My mother and I have always been fairly close and she's always been there for me.

I want to be there for her but we both know I just can't be and it's because of methadone. It makes me think that getting off it might be something I should perhaps try to do once I actually get settled. At very least I should work towards reducing the dose I get so that I can have a future in which this kind of situation won't affect any other future relationships with people. It's stupid that methadone is so over-regulated that people maintained on it become chained to their clinics, but that's the way things are and I can't change that.

I feel exactly like I am jumping out of a plane for the first time and have no idea whether I can find the rip cord on my parachute before I hit terra firma, and terra firma hits me. I have to be very, very careful with the money alloted to me and choose wisely when it comes to apartments. Thankfully!!! the steep SF rents are bending under the weight of BadEconomicBullshit and so I'm finding apartments on Craigslist that are actually under four figures.

Since I'm going to have to have my computer and most of my possessions hauled out of here next week, I'll only have my laptop to net with. I'll post again once I'm back in the City and have established a WiFi connection...

I hope I'm doing the right thing here and that this is not happening just because my Mom is so sweet and/or her mind is flaking. If I can have my druthers, please let her get better enough to see me get settled and in good mental shape, because I know for sure, amidst all this unsurety, that this IS something we obviously BOTH agree we want to see happen.

I've set up new blogs to write in, and am attempting to enforce a new routine requiring me to write in at least one of them each day. I've topically separated them, this time.

For posts about Choronzon, the entity, and Xenodimensional phenomena in general:
http://danceswitheidolons.blogspot.com

Emotive horsepucky, meaningful or not, with side orders of web lint (in other words, what this journal used to be, for the most part...) IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE THIS SIDE OF ME, DO NOT GO HERE. I SHALL LEAVE NOTHING OUT!!!
http://xxxxxxxx.tumblr.com
EDIT: Decided to keep this one "half-private" for the time being.

Reviews of movies, TV, and music of a psychedelic bent: (I still have to get this one going, as it's supposed to be merged with my former Rotten Tomatoes blog, which was called Psychedelic Fruit.)
http://counterculturevulture.wordpress.com

Elevated Highway, the Livejournal, will be limited to mundanity, reports on the order of "where I am living and what I am doing", and wthe ubiquitous web lint. It will no longer really contain the "real me".

This divided system seems to work better with my current mind-set and encourage me to actually start writing again, which may encourage me to actually start doing other things again, too.

Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett cacked.

I am tired of reading about it on every goddam website I go to. Time passes, people get old, people cack. So fucking what.

I couldn't even get near Twitter with this shit going on.

Guess you all haven't heard from me in a while. It's because I just haven't had the urge to post lately. My life has descended yet more into Hell as the Money Crunch or whatever you call a recession that is obviously worse than one has driven me first to two months at a transient hotel, then, last week, out to Sacramento to take care of my 80 year old mother.

Sacramento is fucking hot. The worst part, though, is that Mom is suffering from all sorts of ailments that make it impossible for her to generate her own body heat, so she has to LEAVE THE AIR CONDITIONING OFF and the sweat just dribbles into my eyes. Even at three in the morning.

I've had no money for drugs or entertainments in ages. I did manage to catch the Throbbing Gristle show in April, thanks to a sympathetic blogger friend named Brad Miller who sold me a ticket, and that was the highlight of a spring mostly spent lying around a hotel room literally smaller than most bath rooms are, watching Adult Swim and eating the kind of crap food one eats when they have no kitchen to cook in.

Mom has helped me out a lot in life and really deserves and also appreciates my help. Hopefully after a month or two of this I'll be able to sock away some money to come back to San Francisco, because I don't think I can honestly survive this climate too long without literally going far too insane to be around.

I have no social life to speak of. My urge to make art and music has evaporated. I have no more emotions, after having torn them out of me like ripping out my spine two years ago, then realising that I sort of needed that to live.

I don't want to write any more whiny entries like this. But this is where I am right now, it's just a report. But if anyone knows a good place for me to live in San Francisco, please, Gods, let me know. Ok?

They're kind of groovy when you want an icon for a message board or something.. Used to spend so much time making shit like this. Now, all of it's gone.

The following lines were all drawn at more-or-less random from the pages of an Islamic forum in Turkish, after being translated by Google and rendered completely insensible.
Link: http://74.125.127.132/translate_c?hl=en&sl=ar&u=http://www.muslm.net/vb/forumdisplay.php%3Ff%3D38&prev=/search%3Fq%3D%2522winpatrol%2B16.0.2009%2522%2B%252B%2Bserial%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26hs%3DyYg%26num%3D100&usg=ALkJrhg-J1TIHpsrQkSgJWbGWcs1mgb81A


from a wall of illusion
to a huge stone in my heart
delusions are fragile
this absence from the sun
the heart fails to control it

urine and faeces in one dish!
degenerate fluid
soft texture and deadly poison
become bankrupt as a payment
chagrins and costly days

scratching of my non-pride
running fast in misery
I live on the shelf
you roam the spring time
the road forks

in violation of the symptoms
Multi-masks do not help you!
a recipe for crazy
debilitated condition
not yet at an end

elimination of the defect
amusement machines destroyed
knocking on the head of the nail
it does not solve the secret
diversions of the learned

crying to the moon
based on data that have faded
in the face of strife and subsoil
harvesting the body
there is no good farmer

You migrate all the characters
to a fictitious institution
to make you less a dream
ornamental outlaw
neurological obscurantist

sitting in a dark place
in the embers of the fire
i permeate the secret cavities
in expulsion of damnation
my turn to not be fooled

It's a bad fact that to me all scripting is alien; it's a better one that I've learned SOME alien lingo. Will same be true w/PHP, Ajax etc.?

It took me 18 months to figure out "cascading style sheets" and how to use them; when I did it was one hell of a Eureka moment.

Gonna do a themed DJ set for everyone designing websites this evening. Did Macromedia ever grant Gary any money for this 'anthem'? Always wondered.

Stomping new wave silly, Shitdisco is Darren Cullen, who created what was my fave site for a good long time: http://spellingmistakescostlives.com

Adult Rodeo - Jesus, LSD and Me.

Extended version of the "Cat Hallucinated as Monkey Lion" song.

Synchrony slows

Wave lights flowing.

Flower grows...

Go starts going.

Give up, get it.

Surrender ends doubt.

Set ready, go get...

Under over, out.

30% written by computer on this site: http://www.motorhueso.net/cap/index.php

BRITAIN'S MOST BIZARRE NAMES

• Barb Dwyer
• Pearl Button
• Ray Gunn
• Helen Back
• Stan Still
• Jo King
• Lee King
• Terry Bull
• Mary Christmas
• Max Power
• Paige Turner
• Sonny Day
• Tim Burr
• Teresa Green
• Will Power
• Anna Sasin
• Chris Cross
• Doug Hole
• Justin Case
• Barry Cade

Worldwide

• Anna Prentice
• Annette Curtain
• Bill Board
• Carrie Oakey
• Dr Leslie Doctor
• Dr Thoulton Surgeon
• Dr Payne
• Les Plack
• Priti Manek
• Dr Sumey

From the UK Telegraph.

I wish there were more old Flaming Lips songs here, like "Bag Full of Thoughts"...I adored them in the nineteen eighties.

I used to love this band so much when they replied to my fanmail asking if I'd write a press release for them I fainted. But I never heard this album.