15 Minutes of Fame (Part One)

I thought April was a bad month, but it doesn't have shit on May. April showers do not put out May fires.
Still, good things can come about…
I wasn't even supposed to be in town, but what the hell do I have to leave for? And my apartment, it's just too lonely - not to mention my bed.
I opened the paper and had an idea. A completely off-the-cuff Martini Kulture show at an open-mic night.
Beat poetry, plenty of darkness, and some noise.
I called in and registered. Everyone gets a 15 minute slot - that's all I need.
I flyered once my idea crystallized.

I arrived at the Wolfson Center of Miami-Dade Community College in the heart (and crack neighborhood that is) Downtown, received my time slot and waited.
When it was my turn to go up, I asked for a few things.
"Can I curse?" They tell me, yes.
"Can you turn the lights off?" They say no, but they dim the place for me pretty well.
"Dark colored lighting?" One blue spotlight - perfect.
"Any samplers?" Holy smokes… a Yamaha SPX 90, same thing I used when I first started manipulating noise back in high school. I spoke into the microphone and fiddled the knobs until I got a low-toned drone.
This is the first time I try my hand at open-mike poetry or spoken word.
With no paper in my hand and nothing but words in my head I ask myself, "Am I going to fuck this up? What the hell will spill out of my mouth? Will I choke?"
I walked out onto the small stage, began and in the style of Allen Ginsberg's "HOWL", the tape transcript reads:

I amass a world of wealth in knowing I do not exist… I do not exist… I do not exist.
Ain soph ain, correct?
Smiling vengeance of nothing - the nothing I was before becoming - the nothing I will be when I cease being. Leave being. Stop being. Stop breathing, seeing, listening. Listen… nothing.
Nothing - just like me. Nothing - just like those magnificent gods, who probably never listened to anything but themselves. Long ago heroes never forgotten. Villains etched in mythology. Forces of Nature seem easier to understand when mythological broo-ha-ha is applied.
It's easier to understand a myth, than it is a wink of an eye. Like the kinks in mass herdism versus egocentric infatuation of playing with one's privates.
Absence makes the heart grow really fuckin' stupid.
You see, my heart was broken as a prank. But a few did laugh, though it's not funny to play with one's feelings.
"First you take a heart, then you tear it apart," goes the children's rhyme, "You toyed with my heart like it was some kind of toy heart," says the child.
Withdrew music due to associations of heart-strings to tunes, but boo-hoo - I deal with psychos everyday.
Apparently a pylon of psychos - panic, manic, motor or otherwise, you sick fucks.
It was said to me to lose my potty-mouth and champion the surge of ideas intended for a clean mind by the rascals behind a fourth Reich.
Too intense. Too intense to describe.
But I'll try…
Six feet tall, ugly and masterful with words until he kicks you in the balls.
Then it's complete anarchy, as I let loose on another human being with my fists, yet with nothing else in mind but kisses and Buddhist-like thoughts of worldwide enlightenment.
I wish you'd enlighten so I wouldn't have to hurt you.
Too real? Too scary?
Relax.
I'm a beautiful woman. My pussy is sweet and vicious. Retractable claws and all, but it rants crypto-fascist, quasi-liberal pseudo-sonnets. Though it's hard to bring her out. Some women do, but they always work in porn.
Why do I watch porn, when I hate those who create it?
Fucking hypocrite!
Fucking!
Hypocrite!
FUCKING!
Or just always wanting to.
Fertilize.
When the crops are ready we praise Shiva for putting that crop there. Shiva and his lingam.
Pervert.
Erotic soothsayer.
He asks, who are you that lies dying beside me?
When you lie, there is a moment… a single moment, several times a night between dreams, when we stop. Our lungs breathe. Our hearts beat. Consciousness stops and we cease to be. Our brain shuts off and "you" are not even a memory within yourself. Quote, unquote.
Thoughts run. On and on. Run on like run-on sentences that go nowhere and have commas in all the wrong places.
Twisted logic and an insane sense of humor are about as dangerous as linear-analog explanations of perpetually abstract conceptual foresights into functions of futile behavior.
Sounds crazy don't it?
But it's not. It's all made up by a mind that's pretty genius, and rather braggadocios.
Experimental folly.
Poetic terrorism.
Aesthetic surrealism with man and womankind's complete lack of inherited guilt over millions and millions of sins committed in the name of beer, cigarettes and rivers of blood. Rivers of blood are something you could have never predicted, but I always prayed for. Blood to my knees!
Halftime annihilation!
Scorched earth policies.
Total war on consumerist home-field advantage, and tattoos on your wrists in some TV-rerun of Auschwitz or some ugly apocalypse according to the revelations of St. Bufo Toad.
So? We're all gonna die.
Clocks tick and time passes, as rage as thick as ice clutters my veins.
Viciousness entraps my mind.
I want to kill, but girls make me want to kiss.
With or without that-which-pushes-me-into-space, space goes on forever. It doesn't, but it does in human terms. Uncountable, forever moving outward at an infinite pace - faster than we can count.
Salvador Dali once thought God was nonexistent, until he read Nietszche and learned that God had just died. I understood Nietszche's dilemma, though opted not to copy his mustache, as mustaches are for cops and queers.
Neither of which are my friends because I'm going kill all the innocent to show the guilty just how guilty they are, and should feel.
How I wish I had a girlfriend who I could kill you all with. Take each and every one of you by the hand, out into the woods and pummel you bloody. Abduct people and pound them with our fists and then we'd fuck like animals in a puddle of saliva and blood.
Thanks to her, there never was a Golden Age. It's been crazy since the beginning.
I never met a pimp that isn't a hoe. Flipping burgers is like taking two fists to the walk. Talk, talk, talk. Talk the talk. Slap a woman? Pussy.
Choke a woman? Now that's different. It works on another level.
Primal violence.
Do you know that men get an erection when they strangle someone?
Violence is fun. Haven't I made that clear yet?
Because Crowley once said, "Every man and every woman is a star." Then he died broke, but at least not violently.
How would you like to have lived in Bangladesh in the 1970s, when Pakistan invaded and killed over a million males? All because they were strong enough to possibly start a revolution and invade Pakistan. Worse the invaders were tribesman, not the army - so death was by machete, axes, sickles and clubs. Everybody loves mass genocide.
Let's start guerilla warfare with fashion etiquette. Mixed drinks and Molotov cocktails, with a flair for bombs and scattered body parts. The looks of grenades and missing limbs will be "in".
There are not enough bell towers in the world to curb my anger.
Follow the trails of cum and spit for they will lead you to Nirvana, blissful forgetfulness of this temporary life and ultimate end.
A 27 years old Greek philosopher stubs his toe, goes home and hangs himself. Who intervened?
No one and nothing. Nothing.
Nothing like laughing at picture of a girl who was shot-gunned in her rectum. Not really, I made that part up to make you laugh.
And some did laugh. Sick fucks.
Brothers in arms.
Absence of morals, ethics and brain matter - all of which are edible, like ice cream.
No morals, like Gnostics - who think God is either an idiot or just plain mean.
The Gnostics ask, "If God created us in the perfection that is Him, why do we shit?"
I'm lucky, because when I go home tonight, God will speak to me. He'll tell me I'm a cunt. A faggot. A nigger too. Why? Cause God loves me and knows the only way to motivate me is to anger me.
In Japan, during the battle of Arki Kazana they yelled, "Yama, yama, tani, tani!" A battle which only lasted 15 minutes, yet changed the entire history of Nippon. That's the power of a missed moment. Do not react - act!
Samuri are from Japan, Nazis are from Germany, Jews from Israel - well, most of them anyway. Capitalists are from America, and Kali is from India. She who has enriched my life with taste - like soda or a highly carbonated fruit juice. Ask her for forgiveness and she shall grant you flavor - beef, chicken or vegetable.
Humans are too polite to each other. A punch in the face should be our greeting. No one will ever mess with the wrong person again. They hit you hard enough, you say, "I don't wanna mess with that guy."
It's great ideas like that that have made me the vice president and general manager of one life extraordinaire. Good friends and bad drug deals. All my friends, with bullet holes and my knee in their collective backs.
All of who taught me that over thirty U.S. presidents are related to one another.
So to them I wrote…
Dear Kykes,
I heard the Jews run the world. If so, make my life easier.
Love, Adel
Oops, anti-Semite.
Ouch, anti-Sumerian.
Tiamat, Sumerian goddess of the sea waters and nothingness, I know her. She introduced herself to me when I was ten. Mystified I read what I could. The I had a vision of the Virgin Mary… she drop kicked Tiamat while she wasn't looking. Damn Christians. Don't they realize that all secret societies die out because animals still work on instinct. Someone in "the order" will always screw them for something better.
Their biggest symbol being the pyramid, which is always missing the capstone, usually replaced by the All Seeing Eye. This is because there is no point to the pyramid, or one person at the top. There is a group, and people always fall off. They know this, but place the Eye there to keep the little ones in line - little minds who see it as a God who watches over us all.
Human error will be the cause of my death and knowing it is going to be painful scares me.
All of you, begin to worry when I collect rope on a huge scale.
But at least people mostly don't eat one another. I would hate to think of the terrible pain after death of being digested and turned into feces.
I guess there are better things than becoming shit… like being nothing.
Because I do not exist… I do not exist… I do not exist.
Ain soph ain, correct?

I was the only one to go straight through their fifteen minutes, rather than read a shitload of lame poems.
Afterwards I received gushes, praise and accolades, not to mention scorn, ridicule and - of course - empty threats. A few didn't get it - they cringed, and they didn't understand it all. Some found me to be a fresh style and face - and they wanted to chat, and they liked me. While others said I was violent, vulgar and crude - they were offended, and they loved me most.
I was high as fuck - not on drugs, but my head was just too swollen to try and sleep. I ended the night by stopping by Churchill's Pub… and that's when things really went nuts.
Please… what else is new?

Low Brow (Part Two)

This little one-bedroom is boring, especially on weekends, but if I exit that door, craziness will ensue I'm sure.
Fuck it, I'll take my chances.
She Who Is On Pacific Time arrives at MIA this afternoon and I'd like to surprise her. I make some calls and ask her ride if I can pick her up instead. Agreed.
At the airport I await, as once-passengers stroll out of the terminal. I see her, but she doesn't see me, let alone expect me.
I have known this woman almost half my life, and I must say, she has never looked worse than she does at this moment. Jet lag, sick or fell out of the plane while landing?
I sneak in for the kill… I mean, surprise. Squeals fill the airport, as arms rush around my neck.
She has the flu she tells me. I admit, I'm too thrilled to be sympathetic.
"Would you mind going out this evening, or would you prefer I left you in some sickbed? Some Low-Brow art show opens tonight. Interested?"
She says she's up for it, and wants to know what I've been up to.
I let her in on the loneliness… it's been almost two weeks without touching female skin.
"One should never abstain from any woman. That is the rule" (Chandogya Upanisad 2.13.1 - 2)
My money woes… silly monetary ills that hold me back and postpone projects.
"O' Laksmi, Goddess of Fortune, you are the store of pollen from which the bee of intellect drinks." (Agastya Samhita, verse 489)
My health issues… health insurance is a scam and doctors only care about the health of your wallet.
"Antigods, thrust your Lord of Ill-Omens and Disease [Arista] away. Cause Him Who Dwells in Illness to be scorned." (Bhagavata Purana 6.18.5 - 6)
Not to mention my previous evening's spoken word event as Martini Kulture.
This catches her ear as a positive moment in all my troubles, as she pouts how she wishes she could have been here a day earlier.
"What poetry did you use?"
"I didn't really use any. It was a steam-of-consciousness-type-of-thing," as I explain the my idea, the concept, and it's final outcome.
"That's just like you - it's always about sex and violence."
She knows me, but I laugh as I wonder if she'll read the transcript and realize that it is mostly about her. She'll know with all my mentions of Kali, Tiamat, needing a girlfriend to kill with, and - of course - porn.
I change the subject by telling her how the previous night ended at Churchill's Pub with a brand new stalker, complete with constant repetitions of the same fabricated story, and forced of kisses for a birthday, which probably happened months ago.
It's off to my place for showers, naps and then to the arts in some lame attempt to be cultured and hip.
We arrive at the gallery about a half-hour later than "fashionably late".
Upon entering it looks as if before I'll get to enjoy the art, become jealous and damn the night, I'll have to schmooze a bit.
Many friends are here, including one who is filming his new reality TV show. It's about life at a tattoo shop and it's artists.
As we shake hands I joke, "You can't use my image." He actually looks crushed at my request… but not as crushed as he will later look, when they play a prank on him - on camera.
I head to the north end of the gallery - the empties spot - and begin my gawking, critiques and scrutinizing.

Adrian Lee - Action /Reaction Panels 10 - 12 (acrylic on wood)
Tonight I feel like I'm on acid.

Brendan Danielson - World's Greatest Country Singer (graphite on antique paper)
At only $300, She Who Takes The Photographs says she would like to buy this piece. She procrastinates and the work is sold by the time she returned a week later.

Michael Hussar - Puppet Show (oil on canvas)
This was my favorite piece in the gallery, but priced way beyond my range… $15,000.
It makes me somewhat sad that I gave up oil-work.

Sean Cheetam - Adam and Eve (oil on canvas)
Damn, I want a blow job.

Anthony Ausgang - Breaking Up Is Hard To Do (acrylic on canvas)
Damn, I want a cigarette.

Colin Christian - Snack Cake Strips (silicone and fiberglass)
I can totally understand the piece's title, as the munchies hit and I grab She With Many Names This Weekend by the hand and rush out and hit South Beach for some San Loco.
Ending the evening at a place that can make a grown man cry… Churchill's Pub.
Here's where the story develops a Part Three.
New Stalker meet She Who Takes No Shit.

Quote Me On That (Part Three)

If you were to reread the ending of Part Two you would see that, while I wrote there was a Part Three, I never stated one would be written.
And you can quote me on that…

"If God hadn't wanted us to eat pussy, he wouldn't have made it look so much like roast beef."
- Eveanl Christoff, the Earl of Nines

"I do not believe that a human being exists who is not, basically at least, an assassin."
- Octave Mirbeau

"Never blame on malice that which can be fully blamed on stupidity."
- Hanlon

"This world is either the surroundings wanting to destroy an individual, or an individual wanting to destroy its surroundings."
- Herman Nitsch

"Every human either adds or subtracts from the happiness of those they come in contact with."
- California Highway Patrol Magazine

"The Earth is Hell, and Man has made it so."
- Robert DeGrimston

"To be Man is to fear God."
- St. John Chistostom

"True magic is just the right gesture, said with the right words, said at the right time."
- Isha Schwaller de Lubicz

"Western people often see obscenity where there is only symbolism."
- Sir John Woodroffe

"We understand others so well, yet it seems we can never understand ourselves."
- Anais Nin

"Whoever wishes to be creative, must first destroy and smash accepted values."
- Friedrich Nietzsche

"Americans are funny people. First you shock them, then they put you in a museum."
- Jean Cocteau

"The pure and simple truth is rarely pure, and never simple."
- Oscar Wilde

"You have been offered a choice between liberty and freedom, and NO you cannot have both."
- Brion Gysin

"You are the owner and operator of your own brain. Learn how to use it!"
- Timothy Leary

"The fool says, 'these are my sons, this is my land, this is my money,' when in reality the fool does not own the land, the money, the sons, and much-less, himself."
- Gotama Buddha

"The Bible tells us to be like God, and then describes God as a mass murderer. This may be the single most important key to the political behavior of civilization."
- Robert Anton Wilson

"I think that people want peace so much that one day the government had better get out of the way and let them have it."
- Dwight D. Eisenhower

"Government is an association of men who commit violence against the rest of us."
- Leo Tolstoy

"The tree of liberty should be watered with the blood of the patriots every twenty or so years."
- Thomas Jefferson

"Capitalist nations make endless war to protect themselves from economic competition by other capitalist nations."
- Harry Elmer Barnes

"How can you live in a world in which you pay for everything?"
- Raoul Vaneigem

"The more corrupt a government, the greater number of laws."
- Tacitus

"Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies."
- Friedrich Nietzsche

"Society prepares the crime, the criminal commit it."
- Terry Buckle

"A society gets all the criminals it deserves."
- Emma Goldman

"We mean well then do ill, then justify our ill-doing by our well-meaning."
- R. W. Emerson

"Everyone has the right to be stupid, but most people abuse that privilege."
- Joseph Stalin

"Every religion in the world that has destroyed people is based on love."
- Anton LaVey

"No man has ever been deceived by another so much as by himself"
- E. C. Grevelle

"Tragedy is life in close-up, comedy is life is long-shot."
- Charlie Chaplin

"Some people want to achieve immortality through the work of their descendants. I prefer to achieve immortality by not dying."
- Woody Allen

"The only principle that does not hold back progress is: Anything goes."
- Paul Feyerabend

"I come not bearing peace, but a sword!"
- Jesu the Nazarene

"What is important to know about a writer is given in his writing. No amount of information about a writer will clear up the controversy his work arouses."
- Henry Miller

"Never repeat… in spite of encores."
- H. P. Roche

You still want a fill-in on what was supposed-to-be Part Three, don't you?
Well, just know that stalkers yelling empty threats about knives and slit throats can make for a fun way to wrap up a weekend.
Not to mention that weekend the new DNME CD (Last of A Dying Breed) dropped (on No Dice Records) with a track sung - actually screamed - by yours' truly, "No Control".

The release party was on Friday and we debuted the track live, with my ugly ass on stage, and my stalker out there in the shadows.
Check your local music stores to see if they have the DNME disc and my golden pipes in stock. If not… burn the place down.

2005