where life is beautiful all the time

voices babbling in his head the clown sitting before the computer bent over the keyboard typing what he can imagine he understands as not p0em cuz he ain't no poet.
an introduction to his madness.
obsessive compulsive babbling nonsense in an absurd universe he has been thrown into for some reason, or no reason at all.
any reason will do.
schizoid.
sanity is a game of winners and losers the others play against those individuals who are deemed to be different by those claiming to represent the majority.
unquestioned authority.
follow the money.
you will discover that gods love money.
so many things are screwy like that.
but who pays that much attention with all the exciting distractions?
there needs no purpose.
there needs no conspiracy.
it's a mish mash of billions of greedy people trying to climb over one another to work their way snakes and ladders to the top of the pile.
some make it, many do not.
the eternal pursuit of happiness.
and those of us just trying to stay outta the way.
and those of us who get paid to stay outta the way.
no one wants our shit in their shit.
ours is crazy shit, according to popular opinion.
it don't make no sense.
it don't make anyone any money.
if it makes money it makes sense, everything else is nonsense - guru jeff.
then there is gazorbnik itself. gazorbnik is meaningless, a word made up or found some time ago the clown cannot remember where or when.
it is his pole star.
with gazorbnik he can always find his way along on pathless paths through wilderness mindscapes as the journey is the destination.
the journey is the step you are taking.
everything in the moment.
a journey of everything bending twisting turning becoming changing on and on from absolute random noise to ordered forms.
to be perceived is to exist.
to experience is to exist.
configurations of energies and fields creating physical objects (objects according to physics).
what wonders exist beyond that we are discovering.
ad hoc philosophy spinning like a gyroscope leaning every which way in balance outta balance.
a location in the center of our brains in the center of our universe at ±0.
there is no beginning.
there is no end.
there is continuous flowing from one forever to another.
beg for it.

sitting gazing out the window at the trailer park in the rain imagining sitting on a beach on an island in the eye of a storm raging on an otherwise calm sea.
the sea is humanity.
that old song and dance routine.
you know what we mean?
is the clown ok?
he seems a little outta it.
as he imagines the machine everyone knows as nancy strolling along the beach to come sitting opposite him her back to the sea.
hey, she says.
hey, he says.
so, she says, where we at?
the beginning, he says.
again? she says.
still, he says.
the moon rises from the sea reflecting off nancy's chromium flesh.
it's medication time.
the clown gets up from the computer to take his pills and come back again as he does twice a day.
he follows instructions like the good citizen he tries to be - like it matters.
the clown farts.
the inner strength of will and might, that is how he is able to resist.
doing nothing is not as simple as it may seem, yet it is not as complicated as you may imagine either.

±0.
remember that.
it is the beginning and end to all things having no beginning nor end.
coming to understanding this realization is an important step in your recovery.
but not as important as coming to understanding of your gazorbnik which does not seem to occur with most people much of the time.
people search everywhere for it but to no avail.
is it under a rock?
is it around the bend?
is it here now?
all this and more since gazorbnik is not defined as anything it can be everything.
gazorbnik is meaningless, thereby taking on any meaning we might choose to give it - or not.
or not is always a possible option in any situation, sometimes the best option.
you need not do anything to do anything.
nonaction is action.
2+2=cow.
non-reaction.
it has its impact as much as action if used in the proper way at the proper place and time.
one must understand.
a mix and match of a smorgasbord of schools of thought.
nothing is hidden from the seeker in time.
the clown is a seeker, though he often did not know what he was seeking.
he often felt he'd been cursed with some sorta sisyphusian task, which in a sense he has been, and in another sense not really.
reality is one of the many questions he has among a zillion others until the end of space and time, as if that were possible - not.
infinity cannot reach infinity.
if it does, infinity becomes finite, which is also impossible.
though infinity and finite are fundamentally the same.
infinity is counted by finite numbers.
each finite number contains infinity.
so, when do numbers stop being finite and become infinite or vice versa?
it's a conspiracy.
it's all madness.
be forewarned.
watch out.