This is :www.dark.sport.blog
. . . . I, Xtasorcery, am scarred and blooded through the past. My struggle with existential facts is only going to get harder.
. . . . The uncertainty in my life makes me snarl in anger. It is unacceptable that I cannot get my fingers around the throat of the Unknown. The Jealous One, my corporate future, the books I’ll write — all these and more are mirages in the distance.
. . . . I have what I’ve called an “Autopilot” — this is a superenhanced subconscious. When The Jealous One kissed me in a dream in Hamilton, I dropped everything and moved rightaway to Downtown Toronto. Going to Vancouver in ripe winter was another harsh decision that came from the Autopilot. But recently the Autopilot has grown quiescent and quiet.
. . . . I flex my bicep and stare steely-eyed down the Doom Alley that the Future represents. Enemies are approaching, I sense. Enemies that know something about the Danger I present to large-scale institutions and massive cultural rafts and treadways.
. . . . I wanted to become Prime Minister of Canada for a brief point in my teen years. But this was not to be. I’ve never even voted. Why should I? The purpose is lost on me. Politics is an end-game around insoluble problems, as Adolf Hitler discovered. What Hitler didn’t count on was secret, recalcitrant enemies, enemies that would take him down by the mind and by the feeling. I have to purge out this aspect of myself. *Xtasorcery walks lightly onto a tightrope, tossing three colored balls in the air, feeling their tight rubber surfaces*
. . . . The chances I’ve taken were worthwhile, because they advanced who I was in my mind and how I think. I believe in myself because these challenges have come up, like a bobo clown doll in my face, and I’ve knocked them aside. All in search of a new society, my society, a new me . . .
[edit 11/30/19: I’ve gone to Megabite Pizza almost every day for about a month now, although that’s trailing off now, as are so many other things –]
. . . . The goal of life in the New Society should be to climb the pyramid. The . . . . pyramid of power extends into the heavens. There is an informal life-pyramid already in place, set around the planet Earth, stretching across continents. But this is not what I have in mind. More than any ad hoc pyramid is a pyramid that is official yet fluid.
. . . . I want unlimited sex, too. I feel as if I cannot take that chance yet in my life. The last time I was in Vancouver I made good efforts toward fucking. But that was trickery of a sort, methinks. Yet I can’t prove that it was a kind of illusion, something to benefit me in decades to come . . .
In decades to come . . . in whirlwinds of leaves and twigs . . . on concrete of blood red . . . they will come and you’xx will rise . . .
. . . . Sighted the Jealous One obliquely today, after leaving the library but while making my way back to the library. This clever trickster is hamstrung in its existence, only being able to make social encounters under highly restricted circumstances. It’s so stupid, really.
@@ X cracks knuckles @@
Still, over the course of the past 11 years I’ve done an admirable job of cracking this nut.
. . . . In future times, this will all be good for a laugh over a beer.