Strangest that at these junctures of time and space irreperably misplaced one such as the martian's voltage arrive on flaring jets of precipitation so that their mere mention is enough to set one's ear to grinning off one side of the crack in the mirror raised up to examine one's self in the early mourning hours of a slow discovered light from having come in late after the graveyard visit with a bottle of rum and a friend and time enough for love under the stars sprawling vast across the curving bend of our good elastic earth turning round and round again upon its tumbling path through outer space where we have found the way towards each other at a loss as to what to say against the cost in the face of our discovered relationship forged in place of the wind driven storms of the daily norms & rituals of our constant cracked lives forced down seperate hallways of the same home perhaps yet far too large does this mansion become for our mutual holding on of all we had known in our lives to be considered worth holding onto, all of it has become a distant washed up memory still staining our ankles with the crusty flaking salt of a long preserved dream evaporating into the clear open sky wheeled above as we continue to hurl down our seperate paths of disparate energy funnels rushing quite past busily occupying our roles in the unknown greater equation that claims each of our intransient lives as yet more soluble souls are harvested in season of rusting replacements penned up together in a hauled away cart steadily distancing itself at the start of a bumpy journey on permanent exodus arrives in the various ports of ill call that happen to open up and out of the dark like an unfolding cellar door breathing a spark of an old mushroom spore alight from the dark along the way to "a book a life a stolen wife, a seed a disease some nectar, a crook a knife a stab of strife you bleed from a slice in your neck sir, you're hooked the knife was stain'd w/tripe I believe you'll suffer infection, a rare malady where your flesh turns to cheese and you no longer get an erection", the song kept spinning round and round inside his head as he stumbled out the bar instead and headed over stumbling quick back to his apartment buried deep into the swimming night time depths of the glimmering sweaty city surrounding every living thing chirruping in the neighborhood out amidst the stars crowding up the overhead view of the passing sky streaming vapor trails in a cyclone horizon an endless uncurling shell surfing corridors the foamy coast of the incoming tide melted away on its pristine and spiralling ride so the question arising must naturally be is the destination known beforehand as elementary long gone past eroded in the winds of history and all the interpretations of the various versions of the word of a source so unfamiliar to all that the underground interstrewn root systems bleeding through poison the unhallowed grounds of each others nemesis beds made to order on a dime and then slept in instead by each others curious house mates in lingering strands of there never having been a question as to who gave demands yet the answers so boldly pronounced in the night were but echoes of the original poised plight, such as could there be a connection between the discovery that we humankind and our being originate from another star system close and horselover fat's transcendant excursions from March '74 and on were to say, what appear outwardly as two seperate theses complex may be in actuality 2 sides of the same coin, one being the (outward) manifestation (i.e, historical) describing the gross form of our condition, and the other being the (inward) reflection (i.e, mythical) showing the nature of the perception of our condition, said thesis not being limited to a dissection of fat's psychoanalyctical experience, nor is it limited to an analysis of humankind's origin among the stars; rather, it encompasses both these subjects into one yin/yang whole, meaning simply there is twice as much work to be done in cross referencing it all, for if given enough thought, it can be seen that a)Kindred's "trip" is far & away considerably complex as to warrant an extraordinary amount of time & energy to cover, and b)the theory of panspermia as postulated by the codiscoverers of DNA is but the tip of an iceberg of possible historical fact so dense as to easily encompass a lifetime of research in the third place (secondly having been temporarily forgotten); therefore it should be obvious that to encompass any of these premises into one cohesive doctrine would easily take up a lifetime or more, at the minimum. Lucky many lifetimes unfold, as shadings of a bitter chrysanthemutation permeate penumbra's shadow forecast in the underfolding tow, reflected in a domain mimicked and seperated by a membrane gesturing the surface of a deep oceanic eye staring flat back at you in cognizant apprehension, drowning in a still life, moth-pinned to the wall in a crucifixion of flight, exposed as the shadow of a statue is thrown by light, as from behind a curtain darkness reclaims the night, angels of mercy shed shining robes, and unconstricted in skeletal exultation, stretched, opening a wildflower's heart in deft precision, degrees evaporate by vanishing echoes in disintegrating rings, memories cast back by a surgeon's reflecting lamp, after the poised pincer injects sting, under a bloated suture of numbness, an intact decomposition, beginning to unravel forms the city of Home, which having been there all along is revealed like broken and strewn driftglass and shells on a beach, as the low tide pulls back for its auction of starfish upon the feeding altar in the depths of space, tidbits on a tray the human race. Swallowed back up by the evening dark he headed home on foot having just met the only counter cultural force working explicitly for that purpose in the medium of film. A talismanic disc he had carried in his possession for at least sixteen years was dutifully assigned a scribbled sigil by this quintessential shaman. He merely told him he thought his film was pure & true, and that he should keep on fighting the good fight. This forging of interlinked dynamics tempers our unified destinies as we travel arm without arm; meticulous glyphs such as these only come about in the most rareified and precious circumstances, and nearly always require purposeful intention for them to manifest. This conjuration of elemental communions is necessary to keep the spark travelling upstream in our blood. In this way the message goes out and circles round to return to the heart from whence it was sent. One snapshot captures the word in boomerang effect. It turns out god is masturbating all along, it's not just the lyrics in a fucking song, it's a way of life that's been lived too long a reflection of intention bright with starry demise time to step off the polished sidewalk just drink it up with razor eyes and flush the poison from our skies that darken as a matter of course the one we're on the human race as rich as this seed needs to be fleeing sectors previously unheard of here and now at least in case we have forgotten the sky is a reminder the corrective lens of night reveals our lonely journey is just an illusion whose temporary manifest will be shattered on reunion the question becomes is this a migration look over our shoulders and both ways when crossing these gulfs may be awesome and the paths may be set yet is interstellar traffic regulated the closer we get all these thoughts blossomed open in his brain on a continual basis keeping him sane and the point to remember in a relative way is the realization it's only one way for there are plenty of others who would go quite insane tuning into this bandwidth beyond the membrane of an organised onion in the vacuum of space whose nodes and latitudes stretch beyond any embrace but the whole put together from the disparate few inordinately captured in their moments of truth manage a reflection of sorts a living shadow emerges in patchwork outlining a fuzzen profile plateaux of spores emitting signals as a radio wave leash keeping him dreambound with a filigree root system emanating from his vast outstretched pores like kites that turn out to be holes with strings emerging from them slanting far down like the final tow line from a circus tent tied to the biggest most well nailed stake in the lot, he felt as if his clothes were billowing out filled with helium and the clouds were taking him for a walk, other than the football field sized shadow keeping him inside it and following him he had no conscious awareness that he was being led down a particular path whose direction carved of least resistance was the result of a five hundred million year imperative contracted in the development of an oxygen rich atmosphere, and as payment for an advance on a planetwide rusting in exchange for a dark material mining station placed in this system a hectare ago, at least this is what he dragged back with him captured on his motescreen, a skein so prismatic as to playback all of creation since its incept point to the moment one's holding the scarve, the only problem being no one is ever willing to let go of it once a grip onto its matricial form has been established, the line of eyesight into its unfolded depths is ever rewarded further and deeper into the labyrinthine series of refractive disclosures like a private peepshow of the most telling revelation, one got the distinct impression these scenes being witnessed were in no way recorded they are merely given shown reflected revealed and when the naked unity of history can no longer be compromised apart from one's own selfish life the inevitable result is total sinking addiction into the ceaseless caresses of these multifaceted visions so distinctly a part of the shared spine of the mountains surrounding upthrust monuments to the grave departure of everything previously known there is no need of ceremony because all are lost together only some among the gathered haven't come to know it yet no matter how much they may have been shown explicitly the sharp fresh outdoor air is the severest mirror of all because it reveals one's deepest truest image that of nothing from whence all came and is going this is the nature of the sky and why it is always being watched he came to see the fantastic forms discerned within were details of his own face because long ago he escaped this world by setting free the self he saw looking back from the mirror understanding that was just a reflection he managed the impossible turning himself inside out compleat, this is how you become perfectly free the question remains ever lingering will it ever be answered by the likes will the dancers steal the attention will the pits open up with the spikes will the significanse be underscored or the score be tallied at all will the small stand up and shout will the decoy come on out and the procession be discovered to have planted one another will suspicion settle sharply so the countenance darkens at a missed opportunity and the prospect of unity being taken away for the very last time will anyone mind at all is it even possible they would find the time to consider this episode serious will they wake up sober or furious questions like these never pretend to be hiding the lucrative truth a generation of friends exchanged vows such as this and when nobody kept it there was nothing amiss or at least not like any one would notice so the dawn kept on inching in to the living rooms of the few who had made it this far and by this late stage in the game no one was willing to admit to each other least of all them selves forgotten in the rain disappearing on a train gleaming in twin fading arcs beneath slick oily water in the darkness slow swirl silent draining down a lost horizon neither prizing or ignoring their departures down the wizened trails of forgotten nurturing and the thing to remember is to face up to the truth facing directly ahead and into the wind blowing cold from the north and go forth onto the path unwinding into the darkness ahead and realize fear is a multicellular grip and only the mind can tower above to let it unslip from the knot tied so tightly and so long ago it is easy to misplace in the wilderness snow descending in drift falls slowly down through the night and piling up around all the houses built around fires by a chimney flue this hearth is kept healthily stoked all four seasons through while the spiralling conditions of our plummeting descent may arouse the suspicion in tumbling lament our journey may possibly be an ascent so when looking at the plain situation in relative fashion the point is to question the nature of the platform awaiting us to dock onto when our primeval excursion is set to conclude it behooves us to recall for a moment the parallel of foreshortened conclusions begone in a spell which should in itself become a clear sign that the anticipated arrival in itself may be denied when considering the lesson learned well along the way of the point of the journey not being to arrive instead the voyage itself becomes the point of the ride so in proper reflection of stilled attitude a condition is set we can see through the windshield of nary a crack our goal is established without looking back and if pointless is how one would like to consider it then all they can manage is to be blind to the beauty of it rushing by daily on astral driven winds the sheer intaking breath of which dizzying sends the mind on a propulsive trip open eyed far the wider and beheld clearly the purpose in contrast to the snider view we are all falling senselessly through space well although this very well is true for most of the race the point is that the mass of the body has layers of fat easily burned off in the caloric cyclones generated along the biomass index on any given pulse of the cycle's lifespan while the heart is still beating there's no need for even man let the thumbs get swallowed up by the tar pits of history let the chirruping continue and starshine show clearly the aether of heaven forever pristine is a backdrop against which we may never be seen again held up to us tilted a mirror of black the long lost reflection of which we must remember to look back on that gone opportunity of which we lost tracking along into deepest held night time instilled in such distant harmonics the pin prick of gestation wakes up to a sonic awareness of premeditated doom that echoes like thunder throughout all the room and the last thing suspected detonates in the rest as the carbon based immolation molds the statues of ash erected in memorial of the seeds planted fast which escaped through the cracks of the solid rock upon which all the rest settled down on to be lost in due time as their children's children dried out into husks on the plain discovered eventually by distant relatives who sang their song around bonfires crackling up into the starry night sparks launched in defiance of gravity's illusion depending on the perception's confusion which is only to say in a manner of proof that hope is a flower that will always be grown as long as there's soil in which its seeds have been sown so the tilling & telling of this unusual tale is a necessary exercise in weaving this spell so that all those who read it may know quite well there is nothing to worry about so best arise and dispell it at all costs or our very lives are at stake whatever you do don't mistake the message for the means or the other way around because if we fuck it all up our legacy gets run into the ground and buried for ever and all eternity lost all for nothing to swallow and chew and spit out our husks to be dried on the beach and dissolved into nothingness simply out of reach of the evermore circuit only a hand's breadth away a gap far too distant to cross if faith is lost along the way so never forget to remember this dream is always there reminding us clearly a scheme concocted by grandparents wishing well deems passed on hand by mouth by ear that to get there all that's required is each gap be crossed once from father to son or from brother to friend let the chain remain unbroken until the end which is the only illusion worth considering pretend so that this pilgrimage throughout the stars will permanently extend on its unravelling course through a multidimensional gyroscope helix ensigning the very document of space with an imprint registered in reality's fabric that is our mutual duties to face whether together or apart and suffering stigmas applied as decals of a sunlit deterioration, a sort of alchemy of so much more than on the eightth day the sun being sundered from the caustic sky by the bitter vapours poured from the raw throats of industry over the munitious scorched and shattered hill line overlooking a desolate, despairing people milling shoved together in a mob slowly advancing all in the same direction through the twisted corridors of a shining labyrinth of reflected stainless steel razor sharpened on the mills of corporate executive butchers grown in the vats of suburban asphalt and chemical conglomorates concocted in a diabolic stew of an alchemical purification process stretched out for so many generations its original intention lost & twisted into the transubstantiated and wholly transformed resurrected carcass of a flayed bastard muleman offspring of an eviscerated holy whore whose death throe ministrations from her row of lactic teats suckles the donkey saviour into a down syndrome mutant politician elected by the inevitable force of relentless magicks cast upon the descendents of the enemies of Lucifer the fallen one extemporized into the only logical course of action which was to take matters into his own horns so to speak and grab the God by the balls in a simple gesture of karmic balancing delivering a vengeance so purified his untouchable essence is vapourized in a cathartic instant of transformative energy crackling dark matter in an antiseizure of a carnalized coup de etat resulting in the impending uprising of the new order of emblackened power having usurped the stagnating empire of filth and corruption replacing it clean with the victorious new mantle of unprocessed evil uplifting its magnanimous head to dessicate the stain of hypocrisy left from the previous rulers of inbred weakness and replace it with the solid impeccable foundation of stone upon the black forces of eternal entropy worshipped and gathered as a battery charge of pure hatred will draw out the vitality of compassionate enemies rendered impotent from the very power they so pitifully pay homage to, a power now transformed by the strong through the fists of endless geneological lines of underlying feral vengeance; thus is pronounced HAIL to thy Dark Lord and whosoever's guise his mask of flies works not to betray, and whisper shut unto thineselves a secret vow of recompense directed upon thine enemies, those whose dull cow eyed braying fell prey to raw desires and fanned the fires of industry spewing forth from wide opened cunts the seminal discharge of the infantries of god whosoforth delivered unto all nature's children the scars of the crucifix upon the cancerous tumours of a violated world, so I say to thee, let evil justice be delivered in full to the oppressors of nature, and let us all rejoice as true evil sheds it's lambskin of dead sloughed off popes and peasants to reassert its ancient dominion on the clean slate of tomorrow's beach. And let the thrice repeated numerals of six on six on six represent the spiral resolution of this reintegrated dawning of the new age of imperialism; let us shed our snakeskins of false idolatry such as is represented in the chronic myths of biblical lies and deception; let us refute the brain washing mentality of the overt power systems already half past crumbled; and let us reclaim the joyous ecstasy of pure evil and recharge its ancient unending power to put forth our agenda vibrantly into the superstructure of this eroding empire surrounding, so that we might revel in the foundation of having survived the persecution of our enemies, the children of god. En spiritus satanas, en espiritu daemonia, en esprit du corpse y lux morte and on the ninth day erased, a nightmare displaced by the worrisom tension built up in the highbrow rise of society's income inable to face the reflection in the feeding trough's glossy moving waters always depicting the shadow of the beast behind us looking over for an instant before moving on away into the lengthening stripes of the day disappearing into the night of wishes sown most bravely in the cornrows of sleepwalking through the forest and being well aware of this acted out extended play on creationism seeding its own fires from the edges of its spreading mantle a hemdress of sparks leaving smoke curling in drifting withered imprints slowly measured by one set of eyes just another manner for which the universe devised to look at itself arise in the forest of the geometric night a tidal wave called Domino his story then must be for all to surf when most will build their homes upon the wave mistaking our voyage for the wind until they hang their sorrows out to dry and come to call this breathing when standing in the midst of home the whole world's reeling on its predestined course stopped in the palm and dropped like a ball on a hot summer night, is the bolo about us a balance tied on to tune us in synchronization with our situation just a plumb weight with dust to achieve perfect pitch look in the mirror tarbaby and don't untie that rope rising into the sky from that stake over there and watch out for that guy in the shades these carnies will go to great lengths to insure the travelling show must go on through every neighborhood in the good green wide wagon wheel of all that ain't wrong with Incorperatica.