From CGI's Morgan. CGI is RMN's readers forum where Morgan is a member. Come join us!!

Hmmm... this may be one of the more unusual postings. I'm just guessing here. Certainly my mind is fairly clear at the moment and that is surprising since I did something I haven't done in memory over a fairly long reach. I got up and fixed myself a vodka cocktail and then I had several more. There has been no appreciable effect.

Then my friend told me that today- 8/8 is something significant concerning the Dog Star and the Sirius Cluster. As you know, I have connections there. As soon as I was told this I recognized that I was shielding myself from this energy; creating a cocoon haze, if you will. Then I understood that this was good energy, especially in my case and maybe that is why I can feel no real effect from the measures I took. Ah well. I sometimes tend to forget that there are forces more powerful than those acting on the surface of this planet, that play into the dramas going on here. This is why I preach about the force of appearances ...but somehow seem to forget that when I come into contact with them. Honesty is a real high wire act, most definitely since most everyone doesn't want to experience it. Integrity is even more elusive. Do you hang with it and go solitary? Do you let your hair down for the sake of company and the illusion of kinship? I can't answer these questions for anyone but myself and I have answered them to myself.

There is a blogger that I have a good deal of admiration for and he has excerpted some lines from Mein Kampf. You will find the commentary not only of a clear and high order but prescient. If I am the Dog Poet, he is the Cat Poet. I am not a National Socialist. I've never been either a fan or a critic of Hitler. I don't understand the whole affair well enough to run my mouth on it. I try never to pretend to know what I am talking about, unless I know what I am talking about. I don't like having to eat my words or expose my ignorance. I try to stay in the areas of awareness where I might know a thing or two, keeping in mind that even then, I don't know all that much. There are a few less traveled roads where I know the landscape better than most and upon that hinges everything I consider important. What goes on here is not relevant, except as a zone of departure.

I am starting to realize that what goes on here has nothing to do with what goes on here, except for it being a shadow play of puppets on strings, who dance to the call of what they have given themselves over to. It is what each and all of them do. For reasons that truly escape me, for the most part, people think what goes on here is important. It is not. The role you play and the roles you do not play are of singular force but even that is lost like the disappearing bubbles; that froth... that momentarily exists as the foam on the sand, until the waves come in again. The cyclicity is marvelous. The consistency and predictability of it is amazing. It is like the windings of an expensive watch but... time is of no importance at all. Timing, however, is very important.

I have come to believe that timing is all about what or who you are listening to. If I had any word of advice for anyone, it would be that one should find a timeless and immaterial source for all of their movements here in the world of darkness. “Ye though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.” Make friends in high places. This is the best I can tell you and the best you can hope to achieve. Of course it will cost you dearly; such friendships come at a certain cost and almost no one is willing to pay this but... the value is priceless. I've noticed this during my whole life here and I have had and still have some very good friends on this plane but I have rarely, if ever, met anyone who is willing to endure the cost of certain esoteric adventures. This might be my biggest disappointment in life, that so few were willing to risk so much and yet... and yet... they toss away the potential of their existence for nothing. To me this is more horrific than anything else and also takes a certain kind of courage, even if they do not know what the price of it might be.

These last days it is all about the Olympics, which certain forces have used as an excuse to embarrass Russia. I don't give a flying fuck about physical achievements, unless they are demonstrated in the pursuit of the ineffable. I am reminded of the W.H. Auden poem about 'golden lads and girls must' etc;

I just spent 15 minutes looking for this poem. The internet locked up on me twice and I could not get it. This has never happened before. I probably can find the one about 'stop all the clocks' so I will go with that;

“Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.”

You might remember this poem if you have seen, “Four Weddings and a Funeral”, which, arguably is one of the better films made. I wonder sometimes if people think I am anti-gay; far from it. Though I myself am not so inclined, I have experienced grave censure for my defense and support of gay friends. When my friend, Kenny O'Brien was sick with AIDS, I folded up my tent in Hawaii and moved to Woodstock to be with him and stayed there for a year until he died. One night, while Kenny was dying I went down to the Tinker Street Cafe to perform and I met up with Barry Landsman, a real n'er do well. He and his brother Steven were heir to a multi-multi million dollar real estate fortune and we were in the club and Michael Lang's (the producer of the Woodstock Festival) two daughters were there at the table. They were two of the principal 'town pumps' of the time and Barry suggested we go to a particular home to hang out, get high, whatever it was that was up and I was coming along when one of Lang's daughters said she wouldn't get in the car with me because I was gay. I laughed out loud and- still polite- asked how she had come to that determination and she mentioned that I was hanging out with Kenny and therefore I had to be a fag and diseased. As you can imagine, if you know me, I informed her that I was not and I also informed her that she was a complete slut, along with her sister, who had had sex with every able bodied man in town, not in a wheel chair or lying in a coffin ...and that they were both a public joke and the result of much toilet humor in that town. Strangely enough they were offended (heh heh-good!).

One young Lochinvar had the spirit to come to the defense of these mascaraed clowns but Barry stepped in and told him that was not a good idea. Barry knew me well. I had been his bodyguard on various occasions and am not proud of that now. I walked away. It is never about what people do that offends me. I REALLY don't care. It is when you politicize it and jam it down the collective public throat through political machinations where I begin to object. I don't care about rap music. It seems that there are people that actually enjoy it.

I do care when no other music is allowed to be played and when music and every other medium is used to indoctrinate people and especially children. I have to live in this world, at least for a little while longer and I refuse to be silent. I.. quite simply... refuse. If I am wrong about certain things, like the elegance and spiritual beauty of rap music, please forgive me, apparently I have no taste. I am a romantic. That is why I like songs like this;

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