🆃🆁🆈🅸🅽🅶 2 🅲🅾🅽🅽🅴🅲🆃...ɴɪᴛᴇ ᴡᴀʟᴋ...

July 11, 2021

“tHeY” have been organizing mass isolation since the manifestation of “uRbAn PlAnNiNg.” Spirits have been shackled and repressed for eons!!!!

This is nothing new to me. I’ve been. I am.

What the dérive was to the Situationists (a revolutionary technique to combat the malaise and monotony of the society of the spectacle), leaving my phone at home and being slightly sedated is to me. This is what I think, as I trail around this d*mb city as some sort of reconnaissance mission. My lips are sun burnt from yesterday and my hair is messy (tousled) from this morning. The moon is my spotlight. I’m sauntering around like the sweet little flâneur I am. Looking and gazing but never getting too close. Never touching. Except for when I walk past gardens of lilac or lavender…I have this compulsion where I have to put some in my pocket. Feels naughty, but still nice.

I wish it could stay June forever. July has always felt damned.

𝙇𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙨, 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨, 𝘿𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙢?

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧. 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪. 𝙄 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨. 𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙨

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙚𝙭𝙝𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪. 𝙁𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩, 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙙, 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝.

𝘼 𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙙. 𝙇𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙨!

I try to find a qabalistic Tree of Life at the park but I can’t, so I settle for a black willow tree. I like being in the dark and I also like being with the trees. I have always liked trees, drawing my fingertips across their bark, hooking my twiggy arm over the base and swirling around like maybe I will become one with it, if I spin fast enough.

It rained today. I lie down just to make sure. I feel the outer walls of my skin mesh with the wet pulp of the earth and I am beautifully fused. 𝙎𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙊𝙍𝙔 𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙊𝘼𝘿 I imagine my skin to be latex or polychloroprene, stretched taught over my body—full of helium, restrained as captive to the ground by vines. I wonder what it would take to puncture me. Perhaps a sharp twig or rough-edged stone would do. They wouldn’t do me like that though.

A Gnostic – word which means ONE WHO KNOWS. AND WITH THIS DEEPER AND DEEPER KNOWLEDGE COMES POWER OVER NATURE.

I have more than just an ordinary command of nature and nature’s forces.

The “SECRET”, The “GATE”. The “KEY OF KNOWLEDGE”. I have these things, also.

I will tell you now, the basic elements of the Secret—involve looking. Being a flâneur is not idle nor self-absorbed. It is quintessential. Walter Benjamin type men would call me an amateur urban detective. Most can’t be bothered looking at physical objects. ˡᵉᵗ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ ᵐᵉᵗᵃᵖʰʸˢⁱᶜᵃˡ. Have you ever seen an electron? I see orbs, but I also see dust, so I don’t know. Sometimes I think I can make it rain with my mind but then I remember it is the US Air Force and DARPA twisting knobs and pressing buttons whom manipulate me. Their satellites orbit the globe, periodically shooting 60 ghz worth of radiation straight through my heart just to remind me what it feels like to feel something. B*stards! Whatever… I like being toyed with.

This world is a microwave and it’s making me hot. When I blush now, it’s more like a mystical infrared glow, like 2 red poppies, like 24/7 Sylvia Plath. Sure, talk shit, but I will listen to Lana Del Rey, our vessel for the occult elite’s symbolism like, yeah. Exactly. Chemtrails over The Country Club—literally. I could be a songwriter. Over-sharing is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off, and she knows this. I know this too. I really need a chemtrail detox. I think I will find the real El Dorado. I will offer myself as a votive. Be one with the feathers, emeralds and gold.