by
Jaye B.
6-20-24
Spirit Mountain, Nv.
Greetings All,
We are blessed with cool weather and beautiful solstice light here which is making Curlicue quite resplendent at this very moment, as she gathers two peanuts in her beak, shows them off and flies away. The solstice light is in defiance of all that is hideous in our world. Even the chem trail haze cannot subdue it. The park is eerie empty this morning, except for some CCP style doggie indoctrination going on the northeast side. Poor cocker spaniels forced to run through mindless plastic obstacle courses just for some cannibal treat.
One of my favorite characters created for the Excarnation Destination/Fallen Angel I See You/More Updates and the Poof Dirt Curse is non other than Mama. One of the reasons I have her do all sorts of dimensional qbit twists and turns is because whenever a character comes to life in a story, an egregore is created, i.e. a living thought form that can gain power and take whoever created it over, if they are not careful. I have had some engaging exchanges w/ ET’s World Occult Circus on egregores, energy harvesting events such as the eclipse and Super Bowl:
I figure Mama can do less damage the more fluently digitized she is. Also I confess to having this unexplainably deep maternal connection, when she actually in 3-D reality did for 100% real nurse self born me in the nuclear blast crater back in 1961 and feel compelled to prolix homage about it. About as likely as a witch milking an ax U R prob thinking.
In regards to the fallen angel Azazel, that’s on a whole other level, beyond egregore. Aza is an attention whore, seeing that Orderly Jaye always returns to his bed, unable to make his rounds. Interesting that Az’s dialogue is so compelling, prob why J always returns to him, so as to glean more of his biting to the quick comments, like him attempting to puncture a hole in his infallible pope certified parthenogenetic origin.
Just as I was finishing Poof Dirt yesterday, the sparrow in the pic above hit my side window after some flock conflagration. I then went out and saw it hop underneath my car and grabbed my iPad to take a picture, only to inadvertently wipe out the first draft of the story. The good news is that the second draft came out much better because of the sparrow, who thankfully flew away, and my still intact memory. A few of the warp transitions got lost however such as the hardpan Preacher and his Texas Rancher family from Merkl, including his prodigal psychopath of a son, who eats vultures hearts like they were maraschino cherries- somehow that got lost in the remix, perhaps rightfully so.
TY for all the comments on my writing. For the record, just picture me bored out of my f’ing GD mind because nearly every one has full turned into MK zombies and having no choice whatsoever but to create worlds with words and music to delve into and escape. It is all I have and I’m grateful I have it because it keeps me full time engaged.
-For new subscribers:
And what a heavily played entheogen Bozo he is.
-A big TY to Pirate Studebaker for the following:
Okay, not to be a bubble burster, but it is Dorthea Lange who took the famous Dust Bowl photos, not Diane Arbus who was famous for her photos of totally off-beat characters in NYC in the 60s and quite a bit younger than Dorthea. Diane did commit suicide. Dorthea did not.
Pirate, you are 100% proofreader hired. And like I said in the comments:
Feel free to eidetic memory rip into anything I post. Then microaggression rip my safe space to shreds like a pine marten does to a squirrel.
-And a big TY to those of you who are still actually alive, have firing neurons and bother to read what I post and engage in edifying dialogue. It is the only reason I do this blog. You are in my prayers as always.
Blessings,
Jaye B.
©2024-Jaye B.
Please help support Reset News @ Paypal, Cash App , Ko-Fi or contact the author for other options @ jayeb444@protonmail.com
***
Jaye B. is a writer, musician and artist. His art criticism has appeared in Art Paper, New North Artscape, Art Muscle, Northfield Magazine and elsewhere. His articles have also appeared in City Pages, Twin Cities Reader, Mysteries Magazine, Fahrenheit San Diego, High Plains Reader, New Dawn and Rain Taxi. He has appeared on BBC Radio, WGN Chicago, WLW Cincinnati and elsewhere in the mediasphere to discuss his work. Please help support Reset News @ Paypal, Cash App , Ko-fi or contact the author for other options @ jayeb444@protonmail.com
I feel we are now living the live action production of The Sound of Silence.
I know this may be trite, but I was born on a full moon and they always make me grind my teeth, figuratively speaking :
THE COMPLETE SCREENPLAY -
Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
In restless dreams, I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.
And in the naked light, I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never shared
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.
"Fools" said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
Then the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
In tenement halls"
And whispered in the sound of silence.
FADE TO BLACK.
Man, I found typos in these lyrics. Changed what I caught. Lazy AI.
I guess I am a natural born proofer. Thank you, Jaye. Mama is as real as anyone else we remember. Like you said - Egregore - This is the definition I liked best of all -
An angelic being from the Book of Enoch.