Nic Endo is not true Japanese and is therefor not a true punk (the jew, the black, and her)

fffff

 

-

The green moon arose from the horn of the mountain. The sky turned a bright white. Five little beetles dance in circle around the decayed corpse. The flesh was inverted, already chewed, still virgin skin. Great Lady reaped it’s last soul. The Beetles were to eat the last of the body’s flesh. For the obedience of Great Lady, this was the only way of life. 

The Beetle opened up its mouth and out came his long tongue - a Lamprey. The Lamprey began on the back of the skull, twisted it’s body around so it could crutch and break the skull. It sticked, never move. The Godess arose from the sediment layer. Blonde hair that reached to her feet and out of her anus. She stood 20 feet tall, as big as the mountain. A diamond shaped head, eclipsed against the white sky and the green moon, into a void less face with no eyes but a mouth and a nose. The beetles each opened the back of their thorax, out with long red sticks. A hum. A drone that made the green light brighter between her eyes that faced the decayed corpse. She spoke quickly in echos: 

“I love you. I love the life you have lived. I love you as a person. I love the choices you made and the struggle you been through. All your dreams never came true, but I believe in you.”

The red sticks swayed back and forth, like an endless run of dominos, a whirlpool around the corpse.

“I love the way you look. I love the food you ate. I love how much anxiety you carried, and how much you never let go. This is what I love, you. I love all the pain you have felt, and the existence you live now. Welcome home, Axel.”

Axel is the god of decay. Today he has finally died. Before, he was nothing but clay. Clay as in a human being. He has survived the trial and finally has decayed. Beatrice had fallen in love for the first time. 

 

 

—

 

———

 

 

 

 

How important is zero in our hindu arabic numeration system? where did it come from and what was its usefulness?

 

Zero is the number that means no quantity. It was first introduced in the Mayan number system, as 0. Zero is used as a marker in the number placement. With zero, we can know how many numbers exist in the tens, hundreds, millions and etc place. It can mean nothing, but it can also mean many. 

 

—

7-23-14

 

Out here in the wasteland is boring, incredibly boring. Me and Galileo had are share. Resting under some wore out thing of the past , “New Album Out Now! 3-12-2030.” The key to the past is the present. I wish I knew what it was like, but I’m not Shiro, so I wouldn’t understand anyway. Can’t believe old Galileo makes it this far. Last time he broke down and had to push him to keep up. Poor thing, he gets this far, he deserves better. Lampreys long ago use to live in the water. This wasteland doesn’t even have a proper Oasis. Well, none actually. Water is a rare thing too. The only “Oasis” to find out here is a Kenshin nest, don’t want to mess with those fuckers. My rifle has about two clips left. Galileo is resting on his side. Me too. Nothing is out here, not even good women. Just Kenshin nuts. Not even Kenshin women (surprised if they have any). The Sun is setting. I don’t there will be any harm under this old poster. A thing of the past indeed. What was it like to be Shiro? I kind of wish I was one, kind of wish I had life easier. Wish life wasn’t like this. 

Tomorrow we head south. Hopefully get to Akuma-machi by noon. I have enough Pokki to make it. If anything is in are way, like Kenshin, I’ll be ready. Those metal head maniacs won’t make me bow down to their so-called lord. Feels bad to shoot’em. I remember I shot one of them today. Sad really. He was coming out me full charge. Drops like a broken toy. Almost like a toy with all that junk on their bodies. Have to find a place to sleep in tomorrow and provisions. What the Shiro did to the old way of living, made life worse. It’s a struggle for us down here, but they don’t feel it. But If I was Shiro, I would hide away from harm too. Maybe one day I will see them. 

 

—

 

7-24-14

 

Got to Akuma-machi on time. The sun sets again! Staying in at a inn called Yuki. A nice Stewardess guide me to my room and offered Pokki. Nice, what I needed anyway. Haven’t seen a women in forever. She’s Chinese. A beautiful race of people indeed. One that I am not apart of. I bet some pay high for a Chinese doxy. Better than of Japanese. Years ago it was only the Chinese. Funny how things age. 

I shot a couple of Kenshin on my way. They were sitting around eating, probably each other. The youngest one shrieked a shrill noise. Distress call. I shot him down right in the head. Half of his head blew off and guts flew. …Or was it just the toys? The other guy came on Galileo, like an undead Ultraman (no pun intended, it WAS Ultraman!). Knocked out his plastic eyes with the butt of my gun. Galileo knocked the rest out like baseballs Poor Kenshin, both a nuisance and a joy. A joy to exterminate them. 

I have Ultraman’s mask right besides me. Kept it as a souvenir. It I put it on, sooner or later I will be one of them, masturbating to lolicon and eating Pokki. …well, not that much. Galileo will rest tomorrow. I’m going about town. I wish I had a place like this. Beautiful pink and red symbols of the past. Just like the Stewardess. I love the round bed, kind of like out of a Chanbara film. Their is so much to describe of it. I want the Stewardess to sleep with me!! I wish I was Chinese. Ha! Not Shiro! Going to find books tomorrow too. Maybe an actual place like this to crash. …Maybe this place!

 

—

8-17-14

 

 

The ocean laid flat as a closed window, ready to be opened by the incoming drake fleet. The Varr San Ironclad was about to face it’s dangerous destiny. Five dwarfs rushed from the ship’s quarterdeck and into battle. Hell storm, the Ironclad’s weapons, weighed a massive heap of the ship. A producing face of that of a dragon erected itself down and towards the horizon. Fire and Brimstone could set ablaze a whole fleet into hell. Chief Smarkle roared over quarters to Admiral Hinkledorf, “Doomreavers ahead!” “Bring them the storm!” cried back Hinkledorf. 

Ripples from Varr San raced towards that of the drake fleet’s. The impending collision against two deadly forces. The sky turned from grey to black. The Doomreavers were shaped of thorny black spines. 

 

—

 

8-25-14

 

Super Boston Terrier.

 

James Harton and his dog Leroy strolled down Henderson and onto Mayberry street. The sun magnified the heat onto poor Leroy. 

 

The American Artist

8-9-16

The artist cannot survive in the American project. The artist is against the wall with competion, loniness, and innovation. It' dosent matter what the artist has to say, because other people are living the same, cliche life that artist wants to live too. America enables bad behavior and pyscholigcal insanity. Someone can belive they are the reincarnation of Davinci, and live out their whole life in a small vilalge of Nebraska as a public relations agent for Sleepy's matresses. Everyone is opressed by the system. It's not "this is what I do with my life," rather, it's "this is how I made myself and whored in the capitalist system." Everything is inauthentic and primal. The lie is not about theroy or action, the lie is agiasnt the primal and natural order of the world: The strong take over the weak, sex is rewarded to the strong, violence is golden, people are tribal, we are no differn't from the monkeys in the jungle. The American sstem is relgion is facade the primal world. No everyone can understand this. It's like telling children the stroy of the birds and the bees. It's not about how sex happens, where a penis ejaculates sperm in a vagina. No. But a nice way of telling the primal world through the materialsitic and beorgious way of living. Somone could believe sex is from the brids and the bess. Sex is idyllic, not savage. Sex is beautfil, not alien. Sex is wanted, not achieved. THis has created a confusion about sex. "Not everything revolves around sex!" They might say. Unforutatly, it does. Every waking moment, animals hump each other for dominace. They have no adavnace langauge like we do. Animals purpose in life is to procreate and have sex. We desire the same. This is about power. Those who deny sex don't understand themselfs. The system has repressed everyone's sexual desires. In retrun, it creates perversions and boredom. We could talk about race they same way we do about the birds and the bees. However, the result is the same. Some belive that race does come from the birds and the bees! (only whites ironically). By beliveing in a idyllic state of mind, that race is not real, could one believe in race. Race is savage just like sex. People need a metaphore story to understnad the primal world to tghe beogios world. Maybe some people know sex and race is savage and primal. These are the boxers, the atheles, the war generals, leaders of the world. However, their success comes from manipulating the beorgious world to their favor. Women are submissive creatures with no peronsality, like Lillth. Blacks are monkey people. Whites are the center of the world of invention and civilzation. Those who are primal understnad this and exploit it. The liberal elite see this and are shocked. They want to change this perspective so man can be above nature itself! Nature is the problem agaisnt humanity. They must change it or overcome it. Either build spaceships to the moon or ignore our animal reality. Two opponents agianst one another.

The artist is sad becuase he is not primal. The artist is beorgious. The artist wants to create thing that he sees from his mind. There is no limits in art, that is his goal. Limits stop the artist from creation. The artist sees aethetics and emotion everywhere. The artist has no duty but his own creations. The artist, in the past few hundred years, has isolated himself from the cause for western civilization and introverted himself to make art how he sees things. The collective nature of himself has been nutered. Only atomized individuals exist. The artist is now alone competing with other selfish artist. He is at odds in the competetive world. No one cares for his art, and no cares for the others. To overcome this sadness, he must blieve he is the center of all art. He want's to belive he is a queer celebrity no else understands. This is the cliche of histroy by the way, that, celebrties come from doing things that no one else was doing at the time. "He was the only balck gay guy writing science fiction." This is still with us how we look upon innovation in art history. Young art school students think they same way now. In the primal world, they are being exploiting by art school and spenidng their money on a youthful Diseny'esque vacation called "the college experince." This creates egotism and selfishness. No experince is learned. The world is cold and isolated. Everyone is competing. We are no differnt from animals. We are hungry and we are constantly horny. We need wifes and husbands to show power, not an idyllic shakespere concept of "love." This is the facade of the America system.

However, mot anti-western forces of the world see the primal world as truth. Russia, China, Japan, India, Africa... everyone is an animal! This truth! Race is true! Sex is worth it! An artist is for the art of the people it is serving! Competion is none. People are lviing happy, homogenous lifes without the need of capitlaist competiion. Ethnonationalism is the paradign of the world! Yet, the western globalist powers know this. It is a battle between whites controlling the world and whites yearning for nostalgic racial nationalism. Nationalism for everyone! It was only 100 years we were social darwinaist. This was a grounded truth about the world. Now, we are fooling with ourselfs, allowing maximum freedon to white people and exploitation of other nonwhites. Ware playing a game with ourselfs. Eric Erickson claim of a "pyschosocilaist" world is correct! We are livng soma-state narrative alway from the pain of the primal world. We are afriad to fight with other people, call names, and act like animals. We are forced to act like idyllic beogois men. Idiot greek philosphers that our a figment of our imagination! But the primal world reappears over and over again throughout our liberal, facade coverup. Shame and guilt appears over and over again. A so-called "intellectual" attack agaisnt those who are not "enlighten" like they are! A diease of the mind! The primal world is showing up again after all the rethroic about world peace, and love, and egalatarinism.

Why can't we embrace our inner animal again? Why can't I say I am proud to be white? I know my limits, I know my people, I know my own thinking about personality.

No one else thinks like me.

The artist in America is doomed becasue he must act beogious in a world that is primal. This is an inauthentic existence. No consumers means no audeince. One must always be exploited, gathered by the wolf for it's prey upon sheep. America must have a constenting class of sheeple. The successful artist knows the world is primal. He is an elitist or a bee-hive worker. Creating capital that means nothing to the world. Capital to be consumed and long forgotten in the years to come. Art for the sake of a beogious way of life, to be sacrtificed for a primal way of exuistence. We are always dependent on the man who is primal to live a life that is beogrious.

My art can only exitence for myself and myself only. Lanague is a mistake. I am an animal after all, confused by my mind that gets into the way of my would be animal existence. The artist wishes to create visions not sawed by other people. The artist is dangerous because he sees the primal world in the beogrois one! Talks beogious, acts primal. No limits should go against this.