A sunny Friday afternoon waffle (served with the usual dollop of cow turd)

Back the day when we wuz in the culling biz we wuz barely outta our teens, young and able coppers in camou's and blue uniforms. And funnily enough, last night I had a dream and in that dream my soul was transposed into my late dog Bosco's body. Bosco was a feisty cross-staffie/alsatian. We (me, with my soul inside the dog's body) were rolling around in a white bath tub wrestling with a shark with its fins and tail and body flapping frenetically and the shark had us by the hind legs and was hacking at us whilst we were going for the shark's tail and there was this spinning orgy of blood, a mess of dog fur and flesh and the snapping, gyrating shark. There was no water in the bath, just blood smeared all over the enamel bath surface. When I woke up relieved it was only a dream it dawned upon me that the only allegiances we ought to have are to those of the nuances of our sub-consciousnesses.
 
Our conscious minds often lie to us even at the best of times but those frequency signals, those subtle vibrations we're receiving at any given hour from deep inside our bodies, they don't lie. Mind and body are one, they're actually both chemical at the end of the day. Your thoughts are chemical. Astral travellers are bullshit dreamers.

I think that's what they mean when they talk of intelligent people operating on higher frequency levels. I mean, I hate the thought of working for the corporation (any corporation) and this has cost me dearly from a material and social (status) point of view and made me my fair share of enemies but have I any regrets about this choice? No. The only job I ever really enjoyed was that brief spell a few years back working for the circuses in Britain, besides that I've never really enjoyed a job because attached to the job was always the politics of people crap. Waste of time. And running my business way back then for those twelve years was for the most part hell. I'm not really a teamster or team leader, I work alone. At least with the circuses when there were disputes we sorted them out quickly and efficiently with the fists. We always went to sleep in peace, no job worries, only love and passion for what we did and the people we worked with, our buds. And every day was different, you never got bored. We hopped from town-to-town and city-to-city doing our shit, seeing new places, meeting new faces and lots of pretty women. But alas, my marching orders came when things went a bit too far between me and Barney, my squad leader. We remained mates afterwards though and I still got invited to the busker parties as ‘special guest-of-honour’. In a corporation if you klapped your boss or fellow staff member you'd be dispatched off to a leper colony but in the circuses nobody cared because everybody was their own god but still answerable to the squad leader. You knew you were going to get paid (some time) you had a caravan as your mansion and no debt, no monthly mortgages or medical aid but the job was healthy because you worked your arse off and had fun. The only guys who ever got sick were those blokes who never wore condoms. Like poor old nineteen-year-old Stevie my caravan mate, he was slamming a sixteen-year-old blonde hottie from his home town Hartlepool and the poor bugger got the clap so they eventually sent him back much to my relief (I later missed his company though) because our bunks were only three feet apart. I was petrified that the 'orrible nunus would crawl my way from Steve's bunk at night whilst he was passed out snoring away. And probably scratching.

So you either play or pray. The concept of Universal Mind is bullshit. It can only be so. Bullshit is an essential part of what makes the Universe tick over and Mind is what processes it. Mind is the mixer/blender/milker/shaker. The anus is located inside the brain. Think. Whoops, don’t! Be. Mind is attached to body and that's it. Sure, mind can project and connect, but mind owes allegiance only to body. So when you die, you can be rest assured that all your silly human-construct thoughts and feelings will die with you too, you will not be reincarnated as Hugh Hefner II, you will not go to Heaven or Hell, no virgins or raptures for you buddy, because those frequency signals that we call mind will die with the body (remember: flesh and blood and bone and all those wave frequencies are generated and maintained ultimately by the pace-maker) and when that says howzit and shuts down you will be in a dreamless state, hanging out with the moles as ready-to-serve canned maggot meal. That's how you will serve the universe when you're dead and gone. Nice, eh? As punishment for the all pomp and ceremony you thought you were living as a human life, well I'm telling you you are nothing: Nature don't give one stuff for you my china. So you can dream on about your infinite days because I'm telling you when you're dead you're dead it's overs-kadovers. Hi-hi! Now ain't that sweet? So you better make the most of what you've got whilst you're alive and kicking and if for you that means traffic jams and slaving away for the corporation that's your indaba not mine. Me, I have my plans and I'm living them to the fullest right here right now.

As Frank Sinatra used to swoon to the mobs, "I did it my way." (more art coming up soon)