The Insider

I had lunch with one of Newsweek’s ‘Greatest Interviewers in the World’ the other day. A Japanese princess who was brought up in the forbidden city and studied Political Science at Columbia University. She’s spoken to every major head of state for over 40 years and just wrote a book called The Structure of the Global Underworld. She’s also a granddaughter of the Meiji emperor.

We met at a private club for lunch in midtown. One of those old boy establishments with the innocuous entrance that leads directly into a frescoed ballroom. The sort of place where the staff adore you if you speak to them like human beings because all the usual members treat them with such distain. With all the studded leatherwork and dusty portraits the energy in the place was flat. But when we sat down and I asked her how she came to know of the NWO her words were charged.

Like most people I wasn’t born knowing about the NWO. It was my interview work with people like Gadhafi and Saddam that led me to it. Unlike other journalists she had real access to world leaders. She could meet with them in private, casual surroundings. She had no one to report to. No stance to uphold. From there it was easy to see how the truth was manipulated by the media depending on who you were and what you were hearing. She said the key to controlling people was to do so without their knowledge. But I knew this. Goethe had said it. Then again I don’t think even he could have imagined how scientific the process had become. We exchanged topical observations of information that once released made it simply impossible for people to avoid reacting in very, very specific ways. It was not that people were stupid. On the contrary, they were logical. But that was the rub. Because nothing is as predictable as logic. And so nothing is more easily controlled. What do you think all the great government advisors have been specialists at? She smiled at me. Behavioral psychology.

I thought of the last century’s heavy hitters, the Henry Kissingers, the Zbigniew Brzezinskis, even the authors of the Report From Iron Mountain, who had all taken psychoanalytical theory to levels far greater than the individual. As a Globalist one had to think with the mind of an Edward Bernays – who took his uncle Freuds understanding of unconscious drives and extrapolated them to use within the collective. He didn’t see people as hearts that beat to unique rhythms but as cold robotic groups that habitually reacted to the same specific stimuli. To succeed in mass manipulation one was required to have a surgical understanding of the emotional drives of these groups and the triggers that spurned them into action. It didn’t matter whether they reacted to religious fervor, intellectual freedom, love, justice, prestige, security, anarchy or enlightenment. To the NWO no belief or drive was unworkable because it was not the belief or drive that mattered but the fact that we had them.

As we sat and spoke a part of me drifted into a reverie about this. It was a curious thought. That even I, who struggled for free will daily against my primordial hard wiring was still controlled in the same manner. Because the desire to escape pre-conditioning and the stimuli that triggers it is still an operating system. Yes, I too could be predicted to act in very specific ways. I would choose the truth over lie, harmony over discord. If pushed anothers life over my own. Yes, I too was predictable. I too was attached. Even if it was to non-attachment. And so where did it end? Where would I have to place myself in the cosmos to be so smooth that nothing would ever be able to catch on my coat tails? As she spoke my mouth dropped open. For a moment I was stunned. Awe struck at the task before me. This was Tao Te Ching territory. Beyond belief, honesty, morality, even light and love. Was to be truly free, to exist beyond everything?

Immortalists

I can boil an egg without using a timer. I don’t count the minutes. I don’t watch the clock. I just know. I can also stop muscle spasms. Like that one that happens underneath the eye. I can just say stop and it stops. I was doing it about an hour ago and it worked then too. We all have deep, magical powers. The only question is how long we decide to deny them.

The other day I met two men who’ve done away with denial altogether. Next to them my egg magic was nothing but a stunt. A crowd pleaser. Something fancy but ultimately showing little mastery. Because Leonard Orr and Dr. Gerry Epstein are men who teach physical immortality. Men who state quite categorically that our current general rate of aging is simply a product of our conditioning, and nothing else.

Orr must be in his early eighties but he was still tanned and limber. He had this nice glow to him and a story telling style that appealed to all the ladies. He leaned into the crowd, caressed them with zingers, and dropped names like Babaji and Moses. He began his talk by telling us how he’d been a Christian, then a born again Christian and then a trouble maker. He spent his youth asking questions in Church like how did all the men in the bible live into their hundreds? Why does John 3:16 say that the gift of eternal life can be ours? And how did Enoch, Melchizedek and Elijah all attain immortality? In total sincerity he kept asking the Bishops what the hell was going on. But even in their cassocks, they didn’t know.

So he traveled to India where he sought out anyone who had lived for over 300 years; the required chops for anyone claiming mastery over the physical. He said he found seven and then proceeded to tell us about each in detail. What they ate, how they lived, what their practices were. By this time the energy in the room was electric. People were sweating, women were hyperventilating. This was no miracle cream. None of us could keep still. And we all knew what was taking place. Leonard was attempting to shift mankind’s single greatest paradigm – that death is inevitable – on a Tuesday evening from between 7 and 9 at the Om Centre on West 59th street. It was ballsy. 

But Leonard’s not new to controversy. He was pulling in crowds back in the 60s when he first started speaking about abundance management skills and how to set your emotional state to receive. And that was even before he’d invented rebirthing – a way of overcoming the trauma of being born by re-inducing the experience with prolonged underwater hyperventilation so that memories stored in the body can be brought to the surface and released. The concept is in line with most disciplines in which we draw ourselves into a state that we want nothing more than to escape. Because then if at that very moment we remain in it, a tremendous transformation can be achieved in a short space of time. Like an acceleration of the evolutionary process. Leonard calls these thresholds Urgency Barriers.

Epstein came from a different school altogether but was essentially of the same mind. An MD who teaches visualization and meditation, Epstein runs the Institute for Mental Imagery and is along time health practitioner who refers to doctors as quacks. I liked him. He wasn’t confined by conventional medicine but used it to confirm alternative forms of healing scientifically.

What is the greatest cause of premature aging? Epstein said that it was the perpetual instigation of the False Emergency State. Not to be confused with Urgency Barriers a False Emergency State is any instance in which we allow ourselves to enter into a state of fear, stress or anxiety that is not justified. Unless someone has a gun to your head you have no reason to get stressed. And why would you want to? Releasing chemicals from the endocrine system, the pituitary glad, the adrenals and countless others that will need to be broken down by an entirely different set of chemicals if you don’t immediately run a mile or fight your way out of crowd is the fastest way to die. Stop taxing your body as if it’s life and death every time your lover leaves the knife in the jam or your mother gives you a guilt trip for not calling her. You want to know what causes a system to break down? Undue stress.

Epstein’s advice was self-control. Stress inducing situations are like the weather – they’re going to keep doing what they’ve been doing for thousands of years whether you like it or not. So you have to ask yourself – how is it that after all these years I still haven’t learned to control my triggers? He indicated to the woman who’d asked the question. What are you? 60?

This, they both agreed, was the first stage of physical immortality. Next to that stage two was easy – feeling the energy body. Another one of the many aspects that we’ve pushed out of conscious range because of the noise, din, and sheer racket of daily life. Feeling the energy body is like attempting to feel the movement of fluid in the space between your skull and your brain if that space went all the way down to your toes. And usually, along with meditation it’s exactly where the cynic stops. Right at the moment where they could have all the proof they need. Because for proof you just have to sit and feel it. But no cynic ever sat for a serious amount of time attempting to feel the energy body because  any of them that did, were converted.

Don’t try to escape it – unless your parents are immortal, you have inherited a death urge. Orr spoke of the four foods of an immortal; Fire, Air, Water, and Ether. You have to sleep near a fire he said because it cleanses the auric field. You have to drink and bathe in water filtered of all heavy metals because it cleanses the physical. Air he went on and on about. He even laughed and said that since he’d walked in the room he hadn’t noticed a single one of us breathing deeply. Shallow breath is a symptom of stuck energy. One of the classic mechanisms of suppression. Breathe deeply and you stop fidgeting, you stop the elegant habit of eating the inside of your mouth and, yes, you have better sex.

They both spoke about breath for the rest of the night. The consensus was unanimous. Breath controls your state, your centre, even your health. When asked what life was Gurdjieff said breath, and if you watch a clock long enough and connect your inhalation with your exhalation like babies you can slow down time. Orr finished by saying that if there was one thing that all the great immortalists agreed on, it was that breath was the key to life. Then again what advice did the oldest immortal that I ever met give me? – Stay away from humans.

 

Scientology

I spent last week at the Scientology center down on Times Square right opposite the Broadway show Movin’ Out with Billy Joel. I was getting trained in Dianetics. About a week earlier I’d met this woman who spoke to me about The Church and suggested that I find out why it was so popular. Why it was one of the richest institutions on the planet. She also gave me a couple of free books at the special reduced rate of five dollars off. I was very excited. But then I was also a little tired of being in conversations with people who spoke about the organization without knowing anything about it. Not that I wanted to defend it either. I just wanted the truth. And I also like Tom Cruise a lot. I think he’s a really good actor.

The first thing you notice when you walk in is how high-tech everything is. Televisions are everywhere. And they insist that you watch all the introductory videos a minimum of three times which is a classic passive resistance brain washing technique. But I didn’t mind. I just ate the free biscuits and loudly made out with my girlfriend so we couldn’t hear anything.

And I will say that some of the people there were a bit wonky. But then it does stand to reason. After all you don’t find healthy people in hospital. Or calm, centered people in therapy. But I’m not making any judgments either. I just went in and began the course. It was fairly straight forward. We have a conscious mind and an unconscious reactive mind and the unconscious reactive mind controls us. And every little trauma we’ve ever had is still right there with us. Getting re-triggered over and over and over again. Day in, day out.

Of course the theory is sound and the techniques they use do seem to work. But it is presented a little simply. Like they intentionally package it for five year olds. Or people who don’t speak English. Or who are very slow. The study books for example are a bit like pop-up books. And most of them can be colored in.

But the people there are very nice. And they all speak to you very softly. And as you’re doing the course they give you a dictionary in case there’s a word you don’t understand. And if you don’t have a dictionary right there next to you then they get you one. And even if you do have one they ask you if that one is adequate. They also test you on your understanding of words too. Words like adequate. And meeting. What does meeting mean? Then they ask you to use it in a sentence. And the funny thing is – if someone asks you a question like can you use ‘meeting’ in a sentence? You’re so astonished that you’re being asked such a question that it actually becomes fairly challenging. But don’t get me wrong it is a very good course. Even though they do make you feel like you’re retarded.

When you arrive they call you a Pre-clear. Which means you’re as retarded as it gets. Which technically means you have no free will. And that’s really what the whole hoopla’s about. The view that you simply do not have free-will until you have stopped Re-Acting. Until you have identified all of your conditioning and overcome it. But of course no one believes that. People walk around thinking they’re making decisions all the time about how to act. But really they’re not. They’re just Re-Acting. Re-Acting to stimulus. Even the brain signals that alert your mouth to say something or your body to act in a certain way have been found to proceed the actual conscious decision to do so by a very, very long way. And thats not even scientology. That’s real science. Some guy proved it. And some other guy in England just wrote a book about it too. Its no joke. But then tell someone they have no free will and watch what happens. They just laugh their heads off.

Documentaries

I met a guy the other day who claimed he was employed by the CIA for over twenty years to make fake documentaries. It was the funniest thing. Apparently in order to keep tabs on Latin and South American countries during elections and insurrections they’d send him in with a pony tail and some Bermuda shorts and tell him to get coverage of all the main players. He told me those were the days when you could just blag your way into a coup if you had the right look. He said his angle was the casual one. To walk right in off the street stinking of grass and claiming to be super-simpatico to the cause. Apparently you could do that in the sixties. I will admit that his collection of artifacts was impressive. Lots of photos. Documents with original seals. A signed copy of Carlos Franquis’ book. With great solemnity he told me that it took him twenty years to quit because the money was so good. When I mentioned John Perkins his comments made me laugh. He painted Perkins as a teachers pet to his back of the bus kid. But they were in the same racket. When I first met him it was in an apartment off Houston that looked like Ali Babas cave. It was filled with computer parts and televisions stacked on top of each other. He was just like one of those smoking gun types constantly tinkering with technology and a old pot of chicken soup. He even served me some with some bread from Dean and Deluca that he said he’d salvaged whilst dumpster diving. Every Friday or Sunday he does it in this bright orange biochemical outfit that looks exactly like the one that Marty McFly wears when the Doc gets shot in Back To The Future Part One. When he told me that he’d washed the sour dough only half an hour previously I almost spat out my noodles. But so what, food’s food.

Non-Locality

A Kung Fu master was talking to me about the power of concentration the other day and made a reference to non-locality. That’s the quantum physicists equivalent of the pull my finger gag – the one where someone in Zimbabwe farts. He was teaching me how to channel my energy flow into a pulse so that if I was ever attacked by a wall of ice I would be able to punch my way through solely with the power of my Chi. His fighting theory was about being limber and loosey-goosey. He said that physically you had to be like a baby because a baby is like the Tao. You can throw one down a flight of stairs and it’ll just bounce around like a tennis ball. With complete sincerity he said You punch baby – you break hand. Baby no Break. He then asked me to hit a 250 pound bag for six-four minute intervals just to see how I did it. By the end I could hardly breathe. So he asked me if I wanted to have a little nap. If maybe 10 hours of sleep wasn’t enough. He was really humiliating me at this point. He just kept shaking his head and staring at me saying You rook sreepy. Reeeeary Sreepy. He thought this was hilarious. But then he said that everything around us is just a quantum field of particles that our brains categorize into colors and shapes just so we can navigate around more easily. I was still panting and spitting bile as he said this mind you. So I asked him what his point was. He said that every fight is lost and won before it even begins. Because thoughts are things. And every one you have, every second of every day, is continuing the brick by brick construction of your life up to that point. Your thoughts aren’t determined by your experience he said. They govern it.

Exorcism

Last night I met a priest whose particular expertise is exorcism. I had no idea how big the business was. Apparently the man’s non stop. And he was no joke. Like Chuck Norris if Chuck Norris was a holy man. He certainly looked like he could pick a fight. He had brawlers genes. Thick wrists, thick neck. His right hand was so big it looked like a bunch of bananas. With complete solemnity he told me that possession was in principle extremely rare, and that only by completely losing ones sense of self, ones I am-ness as he put it, could one be taken over by a malignant spirit. And if you were really in bad shape - a consortium of them. Precisely what happened in his last case. Apparently some small timer in prison with big eye lashes and a nice ass had been beaten into becoming a sex slave for a group of white supremacists. They’d burnt a Swastika on one of his butt cheeks and told him that they’d cut off his dick if they ever caught him peeing standing up again. He was a jail whore now. They pimped him out daily for favors, cigarettes and that chocolate mousse they give out at lunch. Within a week he was broken, in a month he was zombified, in two he just started biting off wieners and eating them. And if someone protested he’d just poke out their eyes and eat those too. Then no one touched him. But he was changed, and soon became a man that no one looked at twice. The end was naturally quite gruesome but long story short they had to bring in Chuck. Shut him up in a room with no one else but Chuck. But Chuck didn’t say much about that. He just said that he was once in the service of the dark, and that it almost killed him. Another term for human sacrifice if you ask me. And after all there’s still a market in every major city in the world. Children costing no more than twelve thousand dollars. Monkeys going for little over three. Though that was a surprise to me. The hit, from what I understand, is one that amplifies the power of the morphogenetic field allowing one to manifest with greater power and efficiency. The essence of absorbing someone elses life force. What we do in infinitesimally smaller increments in relationships every day. The flip side of being broken against your will.

Ayuhaska

I went to a party last night where we all dressed up in white robes and took Ayuhaska so we could meet our spirit guides and chit-chat with them about things and wot not. There was a washing ceremony for the men by the women and then vise-versa. No funny business though. It was all very reverent. I did almost get a semi at once point. But then I focused on my third eye and it went away. And thank God. Not because they think you’re a pervert or anything but because they just know you’re not ready for ceremony work if you cant at least control your blood flow. But it was fine. There was a priestess there too, guiding the gig. She looked like she knew exactly what she was doing, like she’d been taking acid forever. She had that drawl when she spoke. Like everything was still happening in slow motion. But she was more than just an old junkie. She had skills. She was like a meet and greet coordinator between you and the spirit world. Like the instructors at the Club Med Olympics. She knew how to take you out far and then push you further where even she couldn’t follow, where you had to go it alone. Afterwards I spoke to this one girl who met her totem animal. Apparently it was a lemming. She looked like a lemming too. And that’s exactly what I find in these circles. That they’re the same as any other community anywhere else in the world. With your light weights, your posers, your authentics and your pretenders. The saddest ones of course being the pretenders. Because everyone can see through a pretender. They even know they’re doing it most of the time, deep down. But even when them glimpse themselves for that brief moment they still can’t knock it. Because they think they’ve invested so much into it that they just can’t turn back.

Words

I drove out to New Jersey on Saturday to meet a painter who claims he’s had sex with an alien from outer space. I’d never been to Jersey before. It’s not that bad in fact, considering. The stress levels in New York really drop the minute you cross the water. You can feel it. I think if New York was a women she’d perpetually be going though the menopause. She just goes on, and on, and on about that thing you once said back in 1984. Jersey was chilly willy by comparison. Real easy going. No stress. No great beauty either, but at least it was peace. And the guy was nice too. He told his story calmly. He certainly wasn’t unconvincing. And so it was yet another example of someone either being completely brainwashed or simply telling the truth. And it’s a strange experience of course, to meet a man in downtown Hoboken who paints landscapes, loves Earth Wind and Fire, and is utterly convinced that he’s impregnated a half alien, half human in an underground compound with port holes in the ceiling that look onto the earths inner sun. When he asks you if you take sugar with your tea you just don’t know what to say. For starters you’re watching him with every ounce of your perception just to tell if he’s not faking. Then there are the details. The little details, the curious observations that just baffle you for all their originality. He even painted the whole sequence of events in an elegant story board form. They were quite beautiful. The largest piece in the series was a life size, full frontal nude of the lucky alien-girl herself. And I know what you’re thinking. I know because I was thinking it too. And of course its totally natural for low level Orangutans like us to have our heads in the muck. Its nothing new. Its the reason we all got into this mess in the first place. And so yes – she was quite something. But that wasn’t the most interesting part. The most interesting part was the way he described their reactions to his words. To each others even. It was a very telling insight into the way more highly evolved beings interact. Because he said that when they spoke to him, to each other, they didn’t question, they didn’t doubt, they took every communication at face value. If someone said no, it meant no. If someone said yes, it meant yes. There was none of the bogus humility, the pretending that we do, to feel more or less one way or another about something because we feel we have to. Because our cultures over-sensitivity demands us to. Indeed our communication system is seeped in what can only be described as a web of essential little lies. The lies that hold us together. But they were above this masquerade. And so their language system was immaculate. No one said no when they meant yes, pretended to want something when they didn’t, suffered through an event and said that they were just fine because they felt they had to. According to him they were straight in their dealings because they had accepted each others differences. And one had to admit, it’s insane to think how much of our minds are occupied with the maintenance and upkeep of this web of necessary dishonesty, this pack of essential little lies and secrets with which we live and breathe day in day out. It’s exhausting in fact, when you really think about it. 

Planet X

I had a 2012 theme-dinner in a Park Avenue apartment last night. The hostess, who was dolled up in couture and diamonds, served us MREs by candlelight. Military Ready-to-Eat rations that have a super high calorie content and taste like shit. It was all very droll. She had this ancient religious expert who explained to us over champagne and powdered fruit cocktails that the end of the Kali Yuga was upon us. She was this gorgeous black girl from Haiti with thin, elegant dreadlocks and teeth so bright it was like talking to a stroboscope. After her spiel I asked her what she did back home and she told me she was a witch doctor. So I pulled my shirt up and asked her to take a look at one of my nipples. Every time I play tennis it chaffs on my Polo shirt. Well don’t wear a Polo shirt. She seemed to know her stuff. There was also an astronomy professor from Cal-tech who specializes in black holes and moonlights for a group who believe in the arrival of the 12th planet. Planet X. His take on the whole thing was just shy of doomsday. But by that time I was really putting the moves on the Haitian. She was a little older than me but I have to say, there’s something about a six foot black witch doctor that you just can’t quite pass up. She was certainly more interested in the professors conjecture than I. He called the planet Nibiru and said that it had a several thousand year orbit thats going to swing it right by Earth on December 21st, 2012. Apparently it will come so close that the magnetic poles will flip creating a shit storm that will wipe out every coast line from New York to Byron Bay. At this point the ladies who lunch were either laughing hysterically or wetting their pants. What do mean mid America? I spent my whole life getting out. Now I have to go back? Most of the men didn’t even seem to notice. They were still talking about the Super Bowl or reading email on their Blackberries. When the professor finally began talking about the post 2012 maps for sale on the Internet three of them had excused themselves because the Ranger game was already in its second quarter. As I was leaving I asked the Haitian what she really thought. I knew she was hiding something. But with so many people around she just kept quiet. When I invited her to dinner she shook her head and said no. You come to me with something and I’ll cook. So I’m going to bring her a live goat and try to get her to decapitate it with me inside a pentagram. I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited. 

Tantra

I met a so called modern mystic yesterday. He was wearing a T-shirt that said Shopenhauer can suck my dick. He was one of those tall white guys with the Jesus of Nazareth beard who always turns up at the hottest parties shrugging their shoulders at the coat check girl because they’ve only got hundreds man. He wasn’t built for the city. He was beach culture. From the school of guitar players you normally find siting around a fire playing Redemption Song and talking softly to a bunch of girls about how surfing is life and life is about being real. And I’m all for people being real and just being themselves. But I usually find that people who say they’re just being themselves are actually being really weird people. But he was a nice guy. He never seemed to finish a sentence. If you stare at your reflection in the mirror for an hour man you’ll know … And then if he did, he’d leave you in conversation limbo. When I was in Bangalore I drove out to Puta Parti to buy a Sai Baba wrist watch and ran over a monkey. So I’d just say Amen. Which he seemed to like. He would just nod his head and point his fingers at my eyes. Then he told me how he’d begun learning about Tantric sex in his twenties and had found the secret to the mythical male multiple. His research sounded tremendous. For an hour he just reeled off techniques and terms like the upper left quadrant, simultaneous breath alignment and dipping chrechedos. Then out of the blue he blurted that he was a sex addict. He seemed very repentant. He even went to a mens group once a week and cried about it. He said he’d cried a lot in his life. I’d hoped he wouldn’t with me. But then he did. We were sitting in this club down town when it happened. His eyes just started welling up and before I knew it he was off. When the waitress came over I had an arm around his shoulder and was holding one of his hands. So I ordered two beers and a toddy. Don’t ask me why. Then he asked if I knew what an Eiffel Tower was. He was really blubbing at this point. I said I didn’t. He said it was when two men high five each other whilst making love to a woman. I said amen. He nodded his head. Then he asked me if I he wanted to know what his personal philosophy of sex was. Naturally I leaned in close. He said that it was a pact in which a woman agrees to free a man from sexual slavery in return for him freeing her from sexual guilt. And how do we do it, I asked. He said a Sydney Opera house. I said amen.   

Fear

I spent the evening talking to a Russian psychologist last night. I met him through the same people who study Systema. He had nothing but disdain for modern man. And modern women. He said that all our decisions were fear based. I had hoped that he would meet me half way but he wouldn’t budge. All of our decisions are he said, if you really look at them. He blamed the education system, among other things. He was quickly riled and did a lot of finger pointing. He would have been an impressive speaker if his grammar hadn’t been so off. He spoke about creating an architecture that would demystify fear. I agreed with him that it was surprising. That after all this time most people couldn’t tell you a thing about it. They would point to their stomach, they would shrug. The tough ones would even make a case for it being important. But no one really had a bead on it. He was obsessed with going beyond oneself. And that to do it one had to overcome fear. He was a grandiose speaker, yes, but he had a point. Because there is nothing more detrimental to a persons success than fear. Because fear is comprised of many different elements, only very few of which serve. For to be afraid is to experience several entirely conflicting conditions all at once. It is to be alert and yet petrified. Primed and yet careless. Stronger in every way and yet weaker. In no other state are we as simultaneously more able, and more unable, to take appropriate action. For to be afraid is to become momentarily super conscious, and yet in only the most narrow of fields. Man’s principle aim of course, should be to widen them. But no where is this taught. And why would it? No one wants man to be unafraid. Because the minute that happens he will stop behaving. He will stop obeying. And so will she. There have been many tales in mythology of heroes travelling through mirrors, descending into the underworld, doing battle with demons. The iconography is universal, and individual. For each of us has one uglier than the last. And this is precisely the lesson of a modern cult. That fear is not selling you a bad product. You’re buying it. 

The Worm

I can hardly begin to write about the man I was introduced to last night. It would sound like complete fiction. Even I had trouble believing his story. But I could tell that he was being honest which usually means one of two things. Either he’s been completely brain washed into believing that he’s experienced something he hasn’t, or he’s telling the truth. And don’t get me wrong, people checked him. There were men there far more interested than me in finding him out. But his story was tight, it certainly didn’t look rehearsed. His body language was clean, he didn’t blink heavily, didn’t talk too quickly, he looked up and to the left for recall and down for emotion. He also looked the part. He came with four classic-looking agent types. Small men, stocky, with zero personality and less than zero facial features. Tough guys with repltilian brains just perfect for field work. The sort of men with so little going on personality-wise that they just faded into crowds. Men you would never notice, never look twice at, never remember, never see coming. They were body guards and friends from what I could tell. They were all in the protection racket. Towards the end of the evening I even got talking with one of them at the corner table of the restaurant we were at. He told me he was head-hunted when he left Spetsnaz. He even invited me to one of their sparring sessions where they do a shorthand cock and balls version of Aikido. The bone crunching art. The way the body’s limbs aren’t supposed to bend, the weak angles and how to exploit them. His friend was also involved in systems theory on a soldier level. A theory that states that everything in nature, without exception, has a moment in which it can evolve beyond itself, in which it has the possibility to make a quantum leap in evolution and become something far stronger, far more powerful than it was previously. The catch being that for it to take place a moment of chaos must be undergone, a moment in which all the components that make up the system must be broken down so they can be rearranged into a more evolved configuration. A moment in which the system becomes temporarily weaker than it was when it began. The - it has to get worse before it gets better - formula. And every system in nature understands this except for one. Us. Because he said that of all of them we are the only ones who not only attempt to drag our heels through it, but actively attempt to stop it. For the simple reason that we are so short sighted we cannot see past the moment of chaos, the moment of weakness, to the rewards beyond it. As if the caterpillar was so frightened of becoming sludge, that it remained a worm, and never broke itself down so that it could learn how to fly. And its the same with everything, he said. Because to truly train a man he must be broken. Indeed the best break themselves. They go into what they fear the most, until they get to a point where they will do anything not to go on. Where they are willing even to take their own lives to stop from going on. And then they do. And in that moment overcome their own psyche. Because they have proven that they are stronger than it. Because they have conquered it.

Crystal

I met a rock star the other day who takes a lot of drugs and apparently has sex with a ton of women. I have to say, he looked like shit. But when you talked to him up close you really got the impression that he was thrilled with himself. That he believed he’d made it. That he was still making it. He kept drinking shots and I just kept wondering if he was enjoying it. So I asked him if he was actually getting pleasure out of it, or if he was just getting less pain. He nodded his head like I’d hit the nail on the head and then poured me a glass of Patron Silver. Then he told Crystal to come over and sit on my lap. Crystal was like fifty years old and had a fucked up hair-style. She was also big into leather. When I didn’t finish my glass she said she’d help me out and gulped it. Then she leaned forward and tried to kiss me. I think her plan was to pour it into my mouth from hers like a bird regurgitating food into its young. I think she thought this was the hottest thing ever. Crystal was pissed when I said I wouldn’t sleep with her. But it didn’t stop her from grabbing my crotch and threatening to take me apart. When I started sniggering I think she felt insulted. So I told her that I didn’t make love to people I wasn’t in love with. She thought that was hilarious and started repeating it to anyone who would listen. Payback for all the sniggering I guess. So I told her that sex wasn’t sport. That it was hard core. That it was the deepest communication we could have with another person. And that if your feelings for them were not aligned on that deepest of levels too, then you would accumulate precisely the amount of trauma that made up the difference. The simple reason why a one night stand always felt like such shit. Because the accumulation was at the max. It could go no deeper. When I finished talking Crystal was gawping at me as if I’d just produced a perfectly formed turd from out of one of my nostrils. When I told her it was her turn to speak she just removed her hand from my pants and walked away. I hadn’t meant to bum her out. But I had to say something.

Seduction

A so-called seduction artist invited me to one of his private meetings last night. He claims to be a protégé of that guy that Tom Cruise’s character is based on in Magnolia. The seduce and destroy king. The one that has the deep seated emotional issues that turn out to be stemmed by his stubborn loser father who dies regretting everything he ever did. Apparently he’s a legend. I hear he does seminars in tropical resorts where he teaches men a version of Neural Linguistic Programming which is basically a bunch of psychological techniques that inspire women to want to hump you. In the advanced class he charges several thousand dollars to reveal how to shoot energy beams out of your groin and talk to a woman’s libido on the Chimpanzee level. From what I can tell though it’s a bit like the Jedi mind trick in that it only works on Stormtroopers and drunk out-of-towners. Then again at least its an honest package. First you seduce yourself into a relationship, then you destroy it. Because once you’re in it you have no idea how to maintain it. But this guy was nothing like him. He’d split entirely from his school of thought because he disagreed with the principles. In particular the idea of trying to control emotions. Becuase he said that if either party ever tried to suppress something they’d just give themselves a tumor. Because it wasn’t about suppression. It was about understanding expression. About changing ones perception of the so-called negative kind where she calls you one thing and you call her another. It was about seeing it as an energy exchange like any other. Like Squash or Paddycake. He said that the domestic dispute had been given a bad rap. That we needed to reeducate ourselves in the art of making war because it was the inverted side of making love. That it was just as natural as rain or darkness. Because if all the earth ever got was sunshine nothing would ever grow. Because only a thunderstorm has the power to cleanse build-up and make way for new life.      

Curling

This afternoon I was invited to meet a scientist who’s apparently discovered the secret of dark matter. I think he was Indian. Then again he was big and had muscles which usually isn’t their thing. So he might have been something else. He said that for a long time a huge quantity of space, both here and there, has been considered unknown in both a what is it and a where is it sort of way, and that he’d finally discovered why. The poor guy looked like he hadn’t slept in years. His wife on the other hand was super hot. Super hot. And it’s hard to keep up with formulas when you’re looking at a beautiful woman’s earlobes. She had the kind that don’t dangle. The ones that just connect straight with the neck. So stream lined. So sleek. So great that every time he revealed another link in the equation I took the opportunity to turn to her and nod, just so I could clock them. She also had that Brazilian ass that for some reason gravity pulls upwards and outwards. It sort of made sense that she was with a quantum physicist. When he said that infinity and finite structures were complimentary she was making her way to the ladies room and my tongue was hanging out of my mouth. She had one of those over-sexed walks. The kind that makes a man wince. He then said that although Einstein had discovered that gravity is the result of space-time curving, it’s also the result of it curling. Like the way you close your hand with your pinkie first, then your ring finger, then your middle finger, etcetera, etcetera. He did it with his own hand a couple of times, just to show me. It’s actually quite beautiful. This is the secret of creation, he said. The secret of everything. And when his wife finally returned and sat down between us, I have to say, I believed him.

Skull

I was invited to a woman’s house last night to hear her talk about 2012 and the end of the world as we know it. She was super hot. Apparently she comes from this long line of mystics who can see spirits and talk to people on the other side. Wherever the hell that is. She was wearing this black mini skirt and stockings and this shiny black jacket that made her look like a witch who shopped at Dolce and Gabbana. She had edge, I will say that. She knew all kinds of things about the body and the soul and what happens after death. She also has this crystal skull thats been in her family for generations that the British Museum has trouble carbon dating. No one can tell how old it is or where it comes from. She only brings it out on special occasions. It has a name and everything. People flock to touch it. I asked her if I could clasp it between my thighs for a moment. You know, for a super-hit. She looked at me like I’d asked her to use the holy grail to give a urine sample. The documentary people thought it was hilarious. They were all there doing this special to follow up the next Indiana Jones movie which is apparently all about it. Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull or something. When she finally brought the thing out the whole room went silent. When I made a ghost noise no one found it funny. One of the producers even gave me this look like I was a complete turd. She was hot too. I will say that the energy in the room went electric. You sort of got the idea that it wasn’t quite inanimate. Like it was eyeballing you and everyone else at the same time. When it was my turn to get close to it the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I wanted to pet it, or wipe its brow like a bald guy with a comb-over, but up close I just couldn’t. Up close it had such presence. You had no choice but to respect it.        

Heath Ledger 2

So I hear that Heath Ledger was only sleeping two hours a night because his mind was keeping him up. I get that. Because we live in a society that tells us lies, the greatest of which is that we are our minds. That this voice inside of us, is us. That it’s important. That it should be listened to. That it should be indulged. The result – we are a species at the mercy of it. We are no less that its bitch. And if you are your minds bitch than you will never find happiness, rest, peace. Because your mind will always be there to shout at you, to drone on at you, to sing songs at you. And skinny Indians and squat Orientals have known this for centuries. They knew that if you thought with your mind you were lost. Because the mind is the youngest, least perceptive of the senses. It knows only how to separate the whites and the colors at the laundromat. But which way to go? Which decision to make? The mind doesnt know. And so it will make lists. And we will chose between them, knowing all along, that we dont know either. Because to know which way to go can only be found by thinking with big daddy gut, and listening with mamma heart. Even hearing with your elbows is better than with your mind. Especially if youre dealing with a woman. Because to a woman the words are never the most important part of the communication. But we havent understood that yet, as men. So we call women illogical. But its only illogical if the words are the only communication taking place when you say something. But they’re not. Because when we communicate, we are saying many different things, in many different ways, simultaneously. And a woman knows this. Because she hears them. She sees them. And so she reacts to them. All of them. But because a man is only aware of one of them, of the words, he concludes that her answer is illogical. But shes not illogical. Hes just blind. Blind and deaf, to his entire communication.     

Hot Yoga

I did hot yoga today. When I walked into the studio I could smell vagina big time. It wasnt a big deal though. But I did. Then the instructor came out with this saggy body and a pair of leopard skin hot pants. I’m not even kidding. It was at the Bikram center on 83rd street. You can check. He was nice though. But he spoke too much. He wouldn’t shut up. He just went on and on. I wish gay guys would stop emulating the classic two or three homosexual prototypes. Peter Allen, Truman Capote and that guy Nathan Lane plays in the Bird Cage. Its like they gravitate towards the ones who made it because its a sure thing or something. But these guys were seriously witty when they were doing their thing. You cant have that attitude if your jokes suck. You just become annoying. I liked the guy though. Im doing the free week trial. But next time I’m going to wear a jock or something. Because even with Calvin Kleins you can really fall out of your pants if you’re not on top of your shit. And thats the last thing you want to be thinking about when you’re doing your third bridge.         

Heath Ledger

I wonder what the autopsy will say about Heath Ledgers death. I wonder if it even matters. He was so great in that gay cowboy film. He showed you could be tough and cool and gay. And very few people have managed that. Freddie Mercury, Elton John, maybe Tom Ford. No, I take that back. Tom Fords soft as shit. He’s no Karl Largerfeld. But poor Heath. He looked like such a good guy. Maybe it was all just too much. Not the films and the awards and the success or anything. But the big questions. He may have got stuck on them. I think a psychologist once said that there’s no such thing as an accidental overdose. That we always know, on some level or another, what it is were doing. The next Batman will be so special though. The experience will be so highly charged. We wont be able to take our eyes off him. Because we’ll be watching someone dead, show how much more alive he was than so many of us.

 

Shakti

I went to a womans house last night who specialises in being clairvoyant and channeling beings from different dimensions. She was super hot. She ran me through the details like she was telling me how to assemble a toaster. She had great legs. And she had these huge blue eyes that just bored into to you. She held your gaze like she was slowly undressing your soul. I could tell there was a lot of shakti in her apartment. Female mojo. You could feel it. And the stuff she told me made my hair stand on end. Making love to someone like that would probably be super intense. They’d probably stare at you so long that you’d both disappear.        

Mama Gina

 

I went to a womens sexual healing and enlightenment graduation class the other day. Its a four month course that costs a packet where women learn to open themseves up sexually and become sister godesses. It was really inspiring. They alwayas invite men to the graduation party. When you walk in they’re all dolled up in these outfits. You can imagine the kind. There were about 200 of them and 80 of us. They were all screaming and carrying on. The guys were like deer in headlights. They had a class on how to kiss where two women got on stage and made out. One of the girls got her lipstick smeared all over her face. But it was very elegant. Then another one lay down on a table and pulled down her pants and we had a vagina class. It was really humbling. They got a head lamp and a high end DV camera and fed the image onto a wide screen behind the stage so you could see everything in detail. I think it was a Panasonic. And you might have thought that the girl was embarrassed. But not at all. In fact you could tell that exposing herself in this way was the most liberating thing she’d ever done in her life. It’s what I came away with. That quite frankly the greatest thing in the world is still the vagina. It’s top of the heap. And apparently women often forget this. It came as quite a shock to me. But its been staring us in the face all along. And yet its constantly being criticized, poked, covered up, hidden. Its the absolute last thing on display in society. And yet this experience the other night, really proved, that a single ones simple uncovered presence, in a chilly willy atmosphere, has a truly magical quality to it. I think a lot of healing took place. Later on at the after party I was asked by a man if I wanted to fuck his wife. I was very flattered but I was really hungry. So I went and got a slice instead.