i thought it would be one man that i'd take to the moons and back with my stamina, love, ferocity, and care. (i thought it was Wordy because he came up to me in the exact way an earlier voice told me would happen)/ but it is actually many men and many wildly unusual women. i was taken care of, saved, rescued and taught how to love and fuck hard and soft by hookers, sex workers, free thinkers, pariahs, unmarried spinsters, lesbians, artists, priestesses. / the kind of women they used to burn at the stake.
this is a fast love letter. i will write more later. it's just that the internet is full of misery and hate and i must remember to set out bread crumbs for those of you who don't know it's already different out here. you're not alone. the voices don't mean you're insane.
the more i talk to and hear all the people Malik Diamond and Khafre Jay have exposed my heart to, the more i realize i'm silly for keeping these seemingly crazy wild secrets all to myself when we all need evidences and personal testimonies of the magic within and around us. the magic we are a part of, the magic we have a power to make.
i stopped hearing all the voices once i let go, danced in the sun while IGNORING everyone, and i became more integrated and feel skinless.
i'm 48 and a few of the other kids of the baby boomers are horrified at how they blew it. they all had the world between their knees and they could've cracked all this bullshit like walnuts, but they wanted the houses and fur coats instead.
my biggest horror was seeing how much more docile each generation has gotten and i couldn't believe people stopped getting natural hard ons and would let their bodies melt in front of computer screens willingly.
all the worst sci-fi mind control stories have come true but it was so much easier than anyone ever thought it'd be to become a corporate state with docile "consumers" as a population so fucking fast.
but my life is about always always always trying to find a way out, of being truly free. so if everyone was looking down at screens and making everything up, then where was the musculature to ever ever ever fight back from all this death?
the lack of a positive answer anywhere... i have no words for how that made me feel inside.
art was irrelevant. we'd all been turned into pussies and whores. anyone who could actually do anything, was either driven mad, imprisoned, or dead.
when i first heard Khafre Jay and Malik Diamond (here's Malik's music), a couple of years ago on the best radio station i've ever heard in my LIFE, KPOO, i was defibrillated back to life. i wondered were they for real... how could they be for real? but i have a special talent for seeing strong alpha dogs, especially men, and after that initial electric shock, both of them have consistently stepped up with gorgeous audacity for their women, their people.
so i'm just checking in here on this fake life internet world to let those of you who're starting to get that this social media thing is just corporate crack keeping us apart from reading each others' eyes, bodies, hearts. all that good stuff. the best stuff.
we get suicidal when it seems there's no other alternative to living in ..this. when it's all rigged and there's no freedom to be seen.
i was starting to lose hope of any kind of humanity rebellion until ten people from Hip Hop for Change descended upon my body to save me from that airbnb guy who attacked me.
he's still there across the street and he used the system to harass the cops into giving ME a ticket! it's a bullshit ticket given without honor, so we will fight it. and while it appears "brian," the airbnb tech guy has won and kicked my ass even funnier and harder by ME getting the ticket while he gets away with attacking me, nah...
he has brought us closer. he has brought my people to me, here in front of my house.
the airbnb guy and that white cop who actually came by and had baby tantrums on us, he will have a future Sandra Bland. he's just dying to kill someone.
but these white guys have actually brought us together ever more. and i realize that the love affair i've been getting ready for all these years is finally here. and it's with many people.
this is the perfect kind of mass love affair to have for me. i never was into many people.
in fact, part of the reason i went "mad" and totally and finally quit trying to be an artist in this system, is that in the end, us girls are always expected to give at least a little head to show our appreciation for being allowed in the foyer of the Big House.
i thought i'd make it on my talent. my skills. no such thing. how good a "friend" are you? how easy going about giving up some pussy among friends?
everyone in Hollywood is a whore. everyone. it's part of any job description in the industry. even below-the-line people carrying power cords have shiny dried up semen spots on their ringer t-shirts.
not just women. even and especially chris rock. i can't even upper case his name. that was some serious Uncle Tom bullshit he pulled at the academy. making people laugh hard hard hard at Jada Pinkett Smith's boycott was not taking care of one's women. i was ashamed for him.
so it's nice to believe in something far superior to santa claus as i am loved fiercely by Malik and Khafre and all the loves they get to know/work with.
i was gonna keep all this secret, but if others are already writing openly about bringing down the system and trying to get your own mind back, i can't sit this out.
i've gotta tell all about the voices, the hookers, the secrets, the love. i'm tired of pretending that the "good, upright" people aren't actually the bloodthirsty ones come nightfall and daybreak.
it's upside down, y'all.
and JohnPaul, you've become like my son. it is your face i now see at the front of all this fight. you get it all and so fast.
i hate the word hope as it's passive and meaningless now after obama spooged all over his preacher, Jeremiah Wright.
but i feel like now i won't be wasted like Sandra Bland. i see her propped up dead mug shot face whenever the cops come now. which as you now see, is all the time. even when i'm dancing with earphones, alone on a sidewalk in the sun, bowing to god during the dry cycle at the laundromat.
i love you each and thank you for showing me i'm not crazy for having believed in this kind of love and knowledge and care for so many years.
and Gema... i just love your adorable little hairs under your arms. that is as radical as dancing in the sun now. you are fucking beautiful gorgeous and you're taking everything in and i hope to help you explode as a fierce woman. you're holding back until you're sure of your dance.
JohnPaul is starting to crack into his own thang, so you'll soon follow. this stuff is contagious. that's why it's so DANGEROUS.
and De'Andre, i don't know WHAT your eyes are picking up and learning but a whole lot's going on in your head. your eyes take in EVERYTHING. i don't wanna fuck up/i wanna be stand up when you're around. that's GOOD.
much much love and joy. fuck all that other bullshit stuff. this is what that stuff was supposed to be about.
so if you're suicidal and depressed by how shitty and hard everything's gotten, before you exit all this, dare to have a LIVING SUICIDE. try things out while you're human and in this body. try to be more embarrassed. scare yourself. you still can die later at your own hands, if you want. but try another way, your way, before you go out.
and you just might find that you accidentally are more alive in your living suicide than you ever were when you were passively "alive" as a fucking "consumer."
what've you to lose? dare to gush. be embarrassed. care too much. tell someone you're in mad love with them...
try. it's exhilarating to not care about the bullshit anymore. thumbs up, "likes," or permanent records. you will fly. you cannot crash when you fly with love. not really.
much love to
JohnPaul Williams, Jr
Maria (I don't know your last name, dear heart!)
Vandor "Whacko" Hill