Book 5 November 11 1984 to April 24 1985

8503.01

    Nice how things work into sections. Telekentic Astral Projection with a physical link. A guy can sit down and concentrate then project himself astrally to anyplace he knows of. If given directions he could find it. He can talk through his physical body and discribe what he sees and feels, tell you where he moves something. The astral from is intangible, invisible, but can move objects, and the physical body can narrate every part of it.
    The ultimate spy, ghost and rapest. He (or she) could invade your home and private affairs and narrate the whole thing to you. You couldn't stop him.
    Such a man would scare me shitless.

    "No one is suposed to see my eyes, Dennis."
    "Why? Let's see 'em."
    "No, I just told you I wear sunglasses alot so people can't see my eyes."
    "Why?"
    "You know what they say about men's eyes."
    "No, what.?"
    "Eyes are the mirrors of mens souls."
    "Oh, wouldn't want people seeing that."
    "Nope" I said, espeacily when there empty, I thought.

8503.02

    June 22^nd. I got a call from Tony (Pony-boy) to tell me Chris Grey-Wolf (Brown-Wolf) had set the date to marry Lisa. I'm told I'm supposed to be a Groom's man. Brad Richer (I believe that's the spelling of his last name) is the Best Man and Tony, Danny and I are to be Groom's men. I'm honored. Funny though, I one of my dreams/visions/fantasy I was a Grooms man. The rest of the story hadn't happened yet. My timing was off. I should have physically lost an eye by now. No worry though.
    I still need to see Brian. Told Tony I'd drop by sometime. Must get my bib done tommorrow.
    'Swampthing' was interesting though. There is this figure of a boy with his head twisted backwards with his left hand (I think) sewn into his upper back. It makes Jason ill to look at him even though its just a picture. It looks just like someone cut a slot in his back, took his left arm and put his hand in the slot and sewed it shut around his wrist then wrenched his head to see it. the 'Omega Men' ended with a good line. "Let me tell you a story. All the children, but one, grow up .... " Kind of a sad story to think about,

        Goodnight.

*The Swampthing I refer to is the actual comic book, not any of the movies*

8503.03

    It's raining outside. I woke up today from a dream because my hand was twitching. It happened to be my left hand doing a convulsive jig twanging the tendons on the back of my hand. I looked through hazy eyes at twitching fingers then made a fist and opened it. The fingers lay still. All I could remember of the dream was that it starred Herb Tarlek of WKRP. We were in a Hospital that once was a shoping mall. There was a chase and Herb 'got what he deserved' he lay, rolling in pain, in a patch of thumb-tacks. Freudian analist will one day say that probibly means I want to fuck my Father, the basterd.
    On the way to gymnastics I came up with the 4 letter chant.
    F is for FUCK, the word we're going to spell
    U is for YOU, the one we adress this to
    C is for COCK, which you got none of
    K is for KICK, which we'll do from above
    All togehter now F-U-C-K
    Whats that spell
    FUCK YOU, COCK we'll KICK from Above.
Gymnastics was fun, I came up with a tasteless sacroligious joke. An atheist is told to do a double front for the first time, he bites his lip and crosses himself,
"I didn't know you where cathlic." "I'm not" he replies, "I'm taking inventory."
    After words, I went to the library. Lots of people, lots of books, lots of trobble, lots of heat. I then went to the Mabee Library, same thing. I have since . decided that librarys are a far off corner of hell.
    Then I followed dad out to Macho and drove him back. He flashed his hand over the stick as a hint to shift. I didn't take it.
"Your still in 3^rd". Okay, I thought, its a borderline speed (38mph) give it to him. I shifted. Then later he just went for the line "Your still in 3^rd." Well this time it was 35mph and I usally don't shift to 4^th until 40mph and the library heat got to me "Do You Want to Drive!" there was silence. "Sorry I smapped. I just hate backsteat drivers." a long silence. In the deep silence I remembered my 5 minute chat with Brian. I finally saw him again. He's in good sha ....
"I saw an old College proffeser of mine." said Dad. Good old Dad. Not only can't he stand the silence he must change the subject. Meaningless chit-chat until I threw him off at home, then went to the library.
It was dark, it wasn't raining then. It had been going and off all day. I came out when I was finished and it still wasn't raining. I came home and started to write and it poured, still is. Tomorrow will be wet and all I can think of is selection of detials. All so very neat.
                    Unfaithfully Yours,
                                            Goodnight.

8503.04

    "It's been reall Monday." I said.
    I was reading of Allistars "Death on a pale horse", a painting, and suddenly lost myself in the image of a white horse rearing up and whineying, mane whiping in the breeze. The rider a long black woman wearing black leather, chains and spikes, her purple mane flitting in the wind. Her thin arm raised, bonely fingers grasping a long stick. At the very top is a black and red Motely and bells hanging from the coxcomb of a jesters head. And I was thinking, "She's stareing right at me."
    I began to analyse this picture in Freudian terms the septer being my dick. Death held my dick which offered such grand paradoxes is was a joke. Then I thought "This monday's been nice to me."
    It was below freezing today. My car door was frozen shut, then frozen open. The car started but I had to drive dad to work. Then school, I nearly carried the conversation in short fiction, Psyche I got lost in my notes, Gym we moved to rings and I nearly die, I move to vault the guy ahead of me hurts his ankel - I don't vault, Instead I end up spotting standing back flips on two guys bigger then me that I couldn't save if I had to, lucky me they could make it to . there feet. I forgot luch money, my tounge went on strike so I couldn't talk. I forgot about the new supplies for Art. couldn't catch Sopplesa to ask aboout the bibs, Came home to find all the trash dragged out and dog shit in my room, then I find David Stous was in my room (when no one else was the house) to get his V.D. bill!
    Been a real typical Monday and thie only thoughts I could escape to were that my sex life is a joke.
    Strong arms, deep eyes, someone to talk to, is that so much to ask to be happy?
            Once there was a king that fell on his face. That's all there was to it.
    P.S. Did I mention after Gym class, at the urinels, for some strange reason, the piss clung and ran backwards down my dick causing me to piss on my coat. I mean nothing went right today!

8503.05 *Warning: Sexually explicit fantasies written here*

    This is bad, but it sure feels good. I'm being damned by my dreams once again. The thoughts aren't so strong but the dreams sure are. They are incredibly real and feel so good and are so grossly unreal that they must be dreams.
    Yesterday my house was filled . with beds and large screen TV's. Every male I knew was over here naked, laying on a bed and watching porno movies. All I really remember is this one scene; David wells was watching a blow job scene with Paxson on the bunk above him. I removed my dick, put it in my mouth then slapped the wet thing against his bare foot. Everyone yelled "Ooooo, yuck!" and I ran from David laughing and locked myself in the bathroom.
    Today I slept late and woke up sucking dick. I was in a basement with a foriegn exchange student (he was Italian and a cross of Andrea's accent and manerisms and David Slesinger's (I think that is how you pronounce his last name) looks. He is a tall, dark, Roman / Italian sculped looking man. Physically he's kind of thin of flat but something about him is very attractive) reading one of his letters. It was graphed off in blue lines on black glossy paper with varying sized white wholes in which was printed one or two words or a nude or X-rated photo of Italian men. He said he worte it to me. He said he wished he was more like me to satisfy me. Then I told him he was more then enough to satisfy me. Then I saw his dick peeking out of his shirt. I don't mean . from under his shirt I mean where it was open (about his breast bone) was the head of a hard penis. It was probibly (concidering his hieght) 2Ø to 25 inches long and 4 inches around. We waited for the little black children to leave, we ate this kind of cherry mush (looked like grape nuts and flour held together by cherrys and cherry sauce). It wasn't bad. Then I started to suck his dick, working on trying to get it further and further in my mouth. My hole body began to tingle, my ass went into convulsions and I felt like orgasim and David Slesinger was getting off. I had worked my way about 5 or 6 inches down then I woke up. Mouth puckered and this tingley feeling.
    I was sorry I woke up because it all died so quickly. I had thoughts of David Stous just walking in and catching me masterbating, maybe joining me. I jerked off in the bathroom and took a shower. I went downstairs and turned on the radio and "Your my Obsession" came on. It kind of hurt. "How can you live with the hurt? Everything reminds you of Judas." "You learn to live with it." I say back.
"What happens when its gone." "I go crazy" I answer.
    The plural of Paradox is Paridise.
                laugh some more.

8503.06

    I hate cars. I can't get the perpective right and the shading stinks and It's due friday! My ink attacked me from an invisible hole, stained my fingers black.
    Rick Pritz and Bob (I don't know his last name) shaved off there beards today. They said it was the air. The spring air. It's a bit nippy yet for spring. It's almost cold, or is just me?
    Tonight I did a round-off flip-flop back all by myself, no spot. Yesterday I did a kip on the bars all by myself, no spot. They say that they'll be there tomorrow, mabye I'll just lift wieghts all by myself, no spot. Maybe I won't need coaches anymore, I'll be all by myself, no spot. I'll continue to do great stunts, all my myself, no spot. Then again maybe I'll die, all by myself, no spot.
    I still need a railroad spike to put money under. David wells went to lunch with me. He had nothing better to do. I ate with my glove on, usually I take that off. My sunglasses were on, too. He shouldn't see my eyes. No one should see  my eyes, they are so empty, like the windows that they are. And also allways looking it seems, in the wrong places.
    A Dragon roared, Judas shuddered, Damon said 'Fuck you' and Judas smiled.

8503.07

    I finished my car today. Complete with bullet hole, blood splattered windows and blood puddle underneath.
    I was going to write down more lusty thoughts today but I realized what was happening. First this Roseta stone was a diary of facts (blah) then a record of Lust. This is supossed to be a Journal of thoughts and occurances that provoke thought. Insights and lessons but mostly what I feel. Maybe at first I was afraid to open up, even to an inantimate book. Maybe that caused me to get wound up into surface facts which then caused represted lust to burst forth. But I think thats bullshit. I guess I just don't think I haveing anything better to write about. Maybe I don't. Since Marc left half of my world died away. Same with Chris. I think I attached myself to them because they know how to go out into the world. With them I did things and met people. They encouraged me to be myself, they thought I was worthy. I find it very hard to concieve of what I would be like if I hadn't met them. A pitifuly, anti-social, suicideal skeleton. Devoid of life as a person, a near vegetable.
    David Berry ruined my childhood. Peter, Paul and mary wrote "Puff the magic Dragon" about drugs. Puff was a hero.

8503.09

    Judas was a killer, could, cruel and calculating. He kenw just what to do to make death slow and painful, for himself.
    The 'Blue Lagoon'. I watched it again so I could see Christopher Atkins dick. Instead, this time I felt something. I felt for the characters, I could understand; and more then anything else, I feel my solitude.
    I have to think, while I still can. People in transitions feel confusion, don't fight it, try to understand it.

    Understand what? there are no thoughts that aren't confusing. I have this fantasy. Someday when I'm all alone at home a very handsome man, usally an actor like Christopher Atkins or Miles O'Keif or Rick Donnovan or Shawn McIvan, will knock on the door and ask if he could stay the night. I ask him to pose nude so I could draw him and he agrees. As I draw we talk, we talk alot and we open up to each-other and each of us feels like a wieght is lifted off of our chests. It's the best drawing I've ever done, he signs it on the back and it says he was glad to have met me.      Its a nice little fantasy.
revolves around talking.
    All my other dreams are violent.

8503.1Ø

    The Dresser, a very good movie.
    David Wells called me today while I was filing my comicbooks (trying to organize my fantasys). He offered me a job interview at Vista. I mentioned to him I was looking for a job, he is one of the managers at Vista. I don't really want to work at a fast food place, but I can't really think of any other allturnative presently other then going to New York and starving on lack of talent and education. At least with Dave as one of my bosses I won't get screwed. He talked like I would only work weekends, from early in the morning (he mentioned 5am). That won't bother me to much as long as I can still do school work, and go to gymnastics. Then I'll have money for comicbooks. I'll find time to read them (even if it is just pack them away and read them a year from now). I want to work, I need the money, but I don't want to work, I like the time. When it comes to work I need someone to say, here's your job, go to work. Maybe its that way because my dad gave me my first job like that.
    I can't help it. I keep thinking of Norman and King Lear's fool. I have no master yet I seem to be dancing on someone's string.

8503.11

    The problem with the human race, or at least myself, is a short memory. It seems I had somthing I thought was important that I wanted to talk about but can no longer remember.
    Today, in gym class the last ten minuets were memorable. Todd started some wrestleing matches, he wanted to go tag-team or better yet, free for all. About 5 guys were on the mat. This one guy from HN, english last semester stood there watching in his grey Century sweats (Century is a large company that manufactures mostly for Martial Arts). "Come on," he said. "I don't know how to wrestle." I said, lying. I knew how to wrestle, I just didn't and did want to wrestle and touch these gorgouse men I haven't even been able to get near. "I don't either" he said and ran for me. He wanted to wrestle and he was the only one without a partner; funny though, he lied too. He was good, very strong, very quick. I'm known for squirming well, simply keeping my back off the floor, not much else. But its' times like this when you are more aware. Men smell good in a bad way and there are diffinately many textures to the body you feel. Hard bones, tense muscle (some which feel like stones) relaxed muscles and soft spots. Flesh and material. Metal . watches. I whiped out from under him but got caught on his watch. We broke and I could breath. He said 'Just a minute' and took off his watch. Before I could say I didn't want to wrestle because I couldn't win he was on me again. Being unprepared I was going down quickly. "Help!" I yelled. Some of the other guys were resting and a gleem came to Todd's eye's and he yelled "Help him!". Everyone piled on. Some how I rolled around so as to be on the side and kind of 'popped' out of the mass of bodys. I stayed there.
    The only bad thing about this touch is that it's so quick and fades from memory fast. This kind of touch also is made in a survival mood, to some extent. Makes it all kind of useless.
    I left and went to lunch. Just as I was finishing David Wells and a freind of his came in. He was 'ajatated'*agitated* at the fact I didn't go through the Union. I told him I usally don't go through the Union. We talked awhile and I watched him eat behind my sunglasses. Then I went to class, home, to oblivion and beyond. I danceds to 'Frankie' and 'Jungle love' and 'Go for it' and 'The Heat is On' until I was tired. Played Hamlet on the coputer and lost 3 times. Some day, eh?

*Hamlet - I have also heard called Othello, and many other names. It is the game with white and black pieces on a grid that 'captures' other pieces by turning them into your pieces. If you have the most pieces you win. One really well placed piece can change the color of the whole board and turn the tides in an instant. Loved playing it on the computer.*

8503.12 supplimental
    Fuck it, now I can't remember it all. I tried so hard to rationalize it and ask questions.
    My dream, what I remember.
    There was a house, two levels, no basement. The Lower level was occupyied with people doing factory work. They were dumping something tht looked like chocalate into the river that ran by. On the top floor Lorreta Swit (Hot-lips) and (Capt. Flagg) from M*A*S*H where there along with several other faceless solgers*soldiers*. I was tossed off the top floor. There was this pond which was linked between the poluted river and ther river sorce. It sat just behind the house. The whole river was actually polluted, except the pond.
*Diagram - I'll try my best here ...*
*****-----------------|
**** |     HOUSE         |     (-------)
**** |________| |____|   ( POND )
~~~~~~~~~~~|  |~~~~~|                 )
RIVER        DUMP SITE         ^|SOURCE\
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/     \      \

This is when I became aware of the dream and started to demand answers. This very large turtle came into the pond, drank the whole pond and spit it out clean. That's how the pond stayed unpoluted. Someone told me the turtle had all the answers. I annoyed the turtle very much calling him in and out of the water (it was nearly slapstick), until finally . he tossed me on his stomache and he floated downstream on his back. I asked questions. The people lived on the bottom because they were the bottom. They polluted the stream because it was there livily hood they couldn't live without fresh water and they needed something to do (industrious jobs) so they pollute the river and make it poison and the turtle eats the poison for them to give them a fresh water pond.
    "Why is the Military on top?" I asked. All I known is its not because they're incharge and then Jason started to wake me, the turtle overturned and said "I'm done" and then I woke up feeling contempt for Jason. Why was the military on top if they wheren't incharge of the operation like the rich lazy prolotariat?
        Goodmorning.

8503.12

    Oh, the shear intrege of it all.
    David Berry, the one who ruined my conception of Puff the Magic Dragon, caused my imagination to run wild. He was talking about his vacation plans over spring break. He's going to Padre' island with a group sponsored by . Washburn. He was talking to someone else when he said that he wasn't going to tell his probation officer he was going because it is leaving the country. He also said (earlyier) alot of his money had to go to cover his court fees for this year (What poped into mind there was a lot of traffic ticks - which wouldn't suprise me). But with the mention of probation, restrictions and probation officer my mind ran free with possiblities of the things he could have done. Traffic tickets to murder one (not that he looks like a killer or anything. He's actually a hunk who likes to party hard!). Actually I don't know for sure, and I'm sure its probibly something simple.
    After lifting weights I went to play lab-rat. They (actually he) hooked me up to several machines, one for pluse, one for muscle tension, one for skin conductiveness, and one for skin temperature. I filled out a questionare, played a video game, filled out a questionare and left. Somehow a 12Ø pg test singeled me and about 8-1Ø others out to play video games. Stupid. Messures stress while playing video games.
    Then I ate a peanut butter, balony, cheese and jelly sandwhich.
    Then I found out Kieth Lewis, . my gymnastic 1Ø yr. old friend, lived only a couple of blocks from me. We exchanged adresses, he even gave me his phone number, and was supposed to follow him home (our secrete). I lost him about a block from his house, something flashed and caught my eye and I missed there turn. It looked like they went into a driveway but they actually turned the corner. I lost them.
    Then I tired Apple juice, 7-up, in one glass and dipped a spoonfull of icecream in. I may try an Orange julius with apple juice, call it an Apple Jack.
                    Goodnight, been a Good day.

8503.13 supplimental

   Someone called and asked for Damon. Good God, gracious God, he's back in the States. Anxiously awaiting 9:3Ø. My eyes seem to be, but they aren't. I can't do that, yet.

8503.13

    Well screw my dad! Marc is in the states, true, but Hawaii is a state. He is in Hawaii. Still very far away.
    He wanted my adress and to ask a few favors. Funny he should . on a 13^th day and the day when I happened to be starting some peliminary sketches of my left hand for art class.
    He wants me to have Eric send his butterfly knives, his poetry notebook and any information on Martial Arts Breathing techneques, Chi or inner strength, and mind controll or meditation.
    Damn my dad, making me think he was home. 5 minutes isn't along time to talk either.
    I'll have to write a letter. I forgot to tell him about Chris's wedding, my job interview and ... and ... well I'll think of something. I could have told him how my mustache was annoying the hell out of me, then again, ...
    Screw my old man.
    It's late, I got to go. (It's not 9:35. Marc could never tell time. It was a quarter after 1Ø went he called) He said he was sending me something (a surprise). Something Loud deppending on how loud I turn it up, either its a radio or one of those Hawaiian shirts. Or its a surprize. Marc was always good at misleading clues.
    I can see him in my mind, even his toes. Damn you dad.

8503.14

    Paradox laughes. As far as events go this was an unusuall day. As far as days go, it was the same rut I've been in.
    I woke up late, went to school early, paid tuition late (in cash), went to class early, got bored in class, talked to David Berry (during class), made jokes with David Berry (during class), Talked with David Berry (after class), walked to far side of campus doing it, Byrd wasn't there today for lifting, I went for a job interview, I went to Eric's, went to the store, came home, choose pictures for slides, read, watched TV, am here now.
    I slept late for a dream about a dream of crying. I woke up in my dream before I could cry over Christmas and screamed it wasn't fair then I woke up to reality a half hour late. I went about my responsiblities, plain and simple. I paid more attention to a hyper David Berry because he would talk to me and he was wearing a shirt slightly to short and shoes without socks (something about bare feet turns me on). While I followed him, talking to him, across campus I saw four blind people, my symbolistic mind kicked in. It seemed such an emediate and overwhelming . physical symbol. The job interview was okay but handle with that same nervous, wierd, attitude I have toward work. I have no troubble with work and doing it but I don't want to go and get it.
    David Berry was the only real annomolly in my day but he was offset by the rutt's of lonelyness, lust and balanced by the symbols of the blind. 'I Almost Cut my Hair' - Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young - I liked that song David.

    supplimental

    How many points cross to form the Crusifix? 3.
    Christ who represents the goodness of God and the world.
    Faith and Friendship upon which he lay.
    And the Betrayal from which he hung suspended by nails. --
*Drawing of the Crucifix*

© 2000 October (Date implied by entry date, Date of copyright covers web publication)