This is No One's diary. A detailed journal of the borderlines encountered. In the double twelve cycle of a boy named No One. Now No One, or Nobody, (as his friends liked to call him) was a gypsy traveler to the most extreme sense of that stereotype to say the least. In both the mental and physical path of current earth. He felt that he was cursed. Forced to never comprehend the true meaning of matter, and why it chooses to occupy space. (or matter for that matter.) Always made to stare at the things that no one else could see or hear, fear, or smell, and never ever feel. Like UFO's, Santa Claus, and the Abominable Snowman. When he was quite young he even claims to have been raped repeatedly and fondled by the occasional poltergeist, and or, loopy succubus. In fact Nothing, (No One's mother) even claims Immaculate Conception when speaking of or referring to the birth of her first born son. It is of course a widely known fact that in most cases dealing with this phenomenon it usually ends up being the fault of some horny sex-crazed spirit or inorganic being gone completely batty. After all could anyone truly survive the act of uninvited intercourse with God? (Also known as the Demigurgas.) We all on certain levels claim to have been fucked by God at some point in time within our wretchedly short and wasted lives. I am going to assume that the actual physical action involved in being truly fucked by God would more than likely be unsurvivable. Nobody's mother is pleasantly suited with and quite appropriately entitled Nothing. Yes, that's her name, and no I am not making it up. Nothing, of course, as we are all too aware, is a powerful feminine entity that dwells upon and within the fifth sphere of the ten that were many before now, because now they are few. The fifth sphere is three and two divided by its own negative reciprocal at the expense of Everything. Who was, and still is always unfortunately caught napping and completely off guard. Totally unaware of the fact that during it's long and wasteful intervals of slumber it was, and is still being, thoroughly violated and taken advantage of by Nothing, and her malevolent power plays. I am referring to Everything in a sexless manner, because Everything, is sexless. You know? Completely hermaphroditic. On the other hand should I say sexier? Better yet. How about perfectly androgynous? Now Everything, which was and is (everything) divided by Nothing times negative 3.14. Colored three dimensionally within our appropriate perception spectrums. (which include all of our current sense awareness and the help secretly and subconsciously of those unevolved senses still to come.) Take that entire magical equation, and put it in the form of spoken word magic after some good sex on Central American mushrooms, or a spaghetti western on LSD, and you will have Something. Also known as the Demigurgas, White Knuckle Phillip, Mr. Invisible, Mrs. Did You Hear That, and Uncle Tom. "The Man Who Can Sink Your Fucking EGO", or God rather if you will. That is, if you consider yourself a Christian, or an uppity Israelite as you well may be and already know enough about to properly represent. Those secret names, that is, no offense. I am leaving out the nudity and ritual components for now just in case you might be tempted to partake in this sacred formulaic ritual without hearing the rest of the story first. Remember? Nobody's story. Please don't get those lynchy eyes with me. I am merely one of the many narrators of this tale. Just be reassured temporarily in knowing that Nobody, (No One) disagreed one hundred and ten percent with this equation feeling both disdain and distrust about the whole lot of it. Well, maybe a hundred and nine percent. However, when he told me this tale his words carried a true and sullen sigh. His facial gestures proclaimed his feelings one at a time, fact after fact, and lie after lie merging together seamlessly. He stated that no lie could ever fully cover the brightest truth. Moreover, I was tempted to believe him, which I do. Believe that is. Don't you? Nobody's father was rightfully Someone. Now Someone, was a bit of a show off. "A variety sort", if you will. He expressed and reflected a jaundiced image of warmth. The humans refer to him with true love as "their sun". His presence is accompanied by energy transformations and solar wind echoes. He ignores Nobody in such a way that's just too complicated to explain verbally. So I'm just going to have to make a vague and lucid promise now, Saying, or "implying rather", that we will speak about this particular relationship of No Ones' a bit more analytically later. Someone would much rather deal strictly with the color green (Naturally, of course, through the process of photosynthesis) Than have to pay attention to his many children. After all in his mind there was, and still is no difference between a stranger's child and his own. Everything in his life was, and is, viewed equally. That is where the giving and receiving of that need called social attention, or blind praise (as I would prefer to call it) turned retrospection. Somewhere in between cloroplast and his Mother's river breast-nipple-cradle. Humanity began. Someone reveals this illuminating sickness to Everything daily, and everything always regardless. This phenomenon happens every day at each first half of a twenty-four hour day, sixty minute hour, sixty second minute cycle, that is eight and three forever. The three are Nothing, Someone, and Everything, a true trinity indeed. Every day when Nothing's attention begins to turn onto other things and off of Someone, is when Someone's best friend Everyone, decides to intervene. Everyone chooses to reach for a little more of everything, but gets Nothing (Appropriate, wouldn't you say?). Therefore, it is truly Everyone who we should be concerned about. Since he is obviously sick and unable to make a proper decision lately. Wouldn't you agree? I mean honestly, who in their right mind would ever want to join up with this deranged soap opera scandle of universal proportions (Willingly anyway). That's just insane and desperate for attention lacklusterless behavior for the weak and over celebrated. What? Are you getting confused already? Let me clarify things for you once again this is No One's story. His friends like to call him Nobody. His mother's name is Nothing. (She is sleeping with some bull dike butcher from San Francisco named Anyone.) His father is Someone, and Everything, is everything still (I hope). Oh, and Everyone is his father's best friend and lover (not to mention also secretly sleeping with Anyone). Anyone is No One's music manager, but she doesn't fit into this story until later so, never mind that. Then again maybe we should be asking, "Who isn't sleeping with Nothing, and why is she sleeping with Everyone?" Who is supposed to be Someone's best friend. And why doesn't Anyone just come the fuck out of the closet and start waving her hands around for Christ sake if she cares so much for Nothing? Liars must make good coffee. She has always been known to turn an interested observer's sugar soaked eye to the attention of alert and ready the pistil. When stamen flirts with pistil that's to say. Her stamen. "From micro organisms to meteorology, we mate to die with life forever". That's one of Nothing's more famous quotes. Nobody, after all, only commented about his current feelings and dealings in life with what he referred to as "The ethereal fluidity within a supposed solid reality". Something, was always there spiritually. Well at least halfway present during Nobody's outbursts of tainted commentaries, rants, and indecipherable lecturings. Something, would laugh and tease Nobody afterwards claiming that all which had been said by him were just pointlessly silly vortex notions. Moreover, and regrettably, he was right. Just on the wrong side of the vacuum. But the right side of Uranus! No One, or should I say Nobody, currently avoided Nothing at all costs and intententions. Knowing full well the dangers involved with her presence and structures of thinking. Which were both extremely perverse not to mention morbid, wretched, and vile to say the least. I am speaking of course about the way in which she thinks. Unfortunately since Nothing is the physical representation of the 'F' and the'E' that comes before the male, she naturally harnesses a unique and timeless ability to distort and manipulate the truth. On the other hand, should I say manipplelate? Excuse me, I apologize. That's just my odd way of being funny. I have never held much sympathy for an over explained Oedipus complex. At least narratively speaking that is. Apparently Nobody, had come originally from an island continent that unfortunately met with a most untimely demise underneath the shiny cold cobalt blue frigid fingers of the gnarled white capped Atlantic. His parents and childhood all but vague in contrast and comparison to his current life situations (still the memories held him strongly connected to his past). One can only erase these filthy memorys through the simple and ancient process (if one sees fit in attempting to apply its usefulness) of recapitulation through hallucinogenic plant use, mixed part ritual, part sense memory. Anyhow, in the end it all spelled trouble as far as I'm concerned. His girlfriend Anyway, was always begging and pleading with No One, "To just give it up", and to quit living life in the past. Unfortunately, since No One had become so used to wallowing in his own misery and underminings the sheer thought of change was even more frightening than just pining along. What if he was meant for bigger and better things? Secret things. And special things. The kinds of things that make mothers get all dolled up and sell shoes on the corner and cotton candy flavored underwear under the counter and on the down-low. While daddy's at the bowling ally putting the moves on anything that breathes. Sister Christian is just begging for a dose of tube sock ala-mode with her "Black Angus chili summer snack" (if you know what I mean). I don't know what the fuck that has to do with Anything, but bear with me anyway. Speaking of Anyway, how have you been lately? I bet you thought that I was going to ignore you entirely huh? You know I love you more than that! Do you remember that time you and I ate six hits of acid each and made a bon-fire at your foster parent's farm in Butterfield, Mn.? I watched you burn your identity then sit nude and humbled in one of those retro lounge-chairs from the early 70's. You tucked your penis between your legs, and renamed yourself in the name our most inspiring and immortal pornographic Uncle Sam. What a trip. You were a God that day, and I fell in love with your ability to forget and forgive 'them' so easily. To not let 'it' control your ego. You introduced me to a chick down the street in a farmhouse who happened to be a childhood friend of yours and an occasional fuck. Angie, was the youngest of nine children. At some earlier point in time I remember you saying that you, and her older brother (by two years) Andy, had been best friends. He died one day drunk at ten am. Against a brick wall. Sliding along the winter loose pavement upon his skidding and laid down motorcycle. Listening to Radiohead when it still wasn't cool too. You were always so vivid. Such a sweet addition to the human race in general. A true-blue-blood forgotten by none other than Everything, and Nothing, and Something. However! Never by me! Never by me! Even when I huddled-swollen kneed and penniless against the cinder block brig pillow. While you were in the cell next to me pumping out the American anthem for two days straight with your head to the wall. Bleeding, you wept and spoke Spanish fluently as if you could have done it the entire time. Snickering (hyena like), you would ask the Admiral for matches and razor blades. They made us sleep with no pillows, or blankets, upon a mattress-less bunk frame. We ate dressing-less salads with plastic spoons. So, we couldn't poke out our eyes (I guess). Fuck them for not getting the joke. Right? They called us the twins and we smoked Kool cigarettes in those crisp January evenings rotting in wait to freeze outside for "Smoke break #2". Snuggled up against the Delaware River. We are serving time. We are timeless servants. This is the land of the lost with talking slee-stacks. I love you Tommy. Thank you. Be well. We made it. Nowhere, but everywhere! I have nothing. I need nothing. I feel nothing. We are we! Violet! Violent! Revolutionaries of the invisible fiasco. I get it now! Look at me! Fuckers! I get it now. Look how I bend fuckers! Yes... I get it now... Yes... I love you now. In this beautiful slack jawed stupor. I love you! For being my friend, and remembering the pact of the latch-keyed orphans. <Dedicated to my friend Mr. German on our B-day, freeday! Burn the Bastille! You are the real Tom Sawyer. I will always be your Huck Finn! It was the road trip of a life time. I wouldn't do it again. Not even for a mother Or would I?>