By: Liz Allen
[2003-05-15]
A Public Service Announcement on Behalf of my Soul
a little late for the apocalypse
The Saturday before Easter Sunday, I had a strange and unsettling dream which I am glad I wrote down as soon as I woke up.
It started out in an old office on a college campus, I think, with three or so professors sitting around, smoking pipes, and chatting. They were my mind's stereotype of professors; fancy velvet bathrobes, slippers, and pipes sitting in high-back leather chairs and they happened to be discussing the poem "Jabberwocky."
The reason for this discussion is that either one of the professors or someone else, it's not clear who, had discovered that the poem "Jabberwocky" had been based on an actual event that had occurred in Britain. Their reasoning for this was that the opening part "'Twas brillig" actually meant "Was Britain," "brillig" being some other way of spelling or pronouncing the country's name.
The most remarkable thing about this discovery was that the poet, who for some reason was not Lewis Carroll in my dream, had made a film about the event that had inspired him to write this poem. One of the professors or someone had discovered this film and everyone had gathered to watch it together. So, one person put the film in an overhead projector, no lie, and the following movie began to play:
It was a brilliant spring morning in 1944 and the poet was in Britain observing the Allies develop and test a new type of weapon. It was around this part that I got the strange sensation that I had become the poet so from here on, I was actually in the movie. The opening of the film panned from left to right, giving a spectacular view of a church, trees, a sign which read "Slithy Toves," more trees, a bridge, and finally some spot far off. The church wasn't a very large church; it was a lot like a castle being that it was kind of square and had two large, rectangular towers on the front of it. There was a balcony going around the front and about half of the side of the church on the second level in the middle of which stood a life-sized statue of Jesus. In front of the church was what I call a courtyard; it was a large square, all dirt, in the middle of a grassy field, and there were two steps that went all around this square which led down to the middle of it. The first step was even with the field and the absolute middle was about two feet set into the ground, all made of smooth, fine dirt like a baseball diamond. I can't exactly remember, but there may have been statues on pedestals near at least two of the corners of this courtyard.
So the camera pans over all of this, the sky is bright blue with fluffy white clouds, and the grass is as green as possible and the camera stops on a spot a medium distance away, a field surrounded by trees. All of a sudden, there is an explosion and screaming as a large cloud of smoke or dust comes rushing from this secluded field all the way over to the church and passes through it. People come running over to the church and I decide that seems like the best course of action to take as the aforementioned statues come to life and I think they even killed some people. There is only one thought in my mind,
get to the courtyard which is what everyone else is trying to do.
I abandon my camera and make a run for the courtyard, I'm closer than everyone else and I notice at the same time that everyone else is wearing odd clothing, but the only one I remember is an ancient Egyptian. I get to the courtyard when all of a sudden the statue of Jesus that had been on the church has also come to life and is in the middle of the courtyard. This is where a small bit of narration begins over the chaos:
"I ran for the church, everybody did, but Jesus got there before me. He was weeping and blood was running in His eyes."
This is exactly what was happening, plus He was on his knees and praying to God, he may have been calling him "Father." Then there was this tremendous flash from beneath my feet in the courtyard and the whole square lit up. The light then rushed up and out of the courtyard, passing over me and Jesus harmlessly and shooting into the sky. There was this loud voice that suddenly shouted out:
"There shall be no Gods before me!"
After this, beams broke off from the light and spread out among the people who hadn't reached the courtyard. The left sides of their chests glowed and symbols appeared, I definitely think one was a Freemason symbol. These people then screamed and died, dropping to the ground, but I suppose I was still alive and a thought flashed through my mind that only Christians were still alive.
One particular person had a Communist hammer and sickle on his chest which rose into the sky at which point the hammer floated away and the sickle turned into a circle which rushed at the screen, rendering it all black. This was filled by large bubble letters which said, as if it made perfect sense:
Happy Easter, you have one day left to repent.
I like to gyre and gimble, I think that raptors gyre and gimble when they soar. That was sort of a Blake vision, too. I was asking a Xtian where did all of the souls go before Jesus, if that's the only way to Heaven. He said that nobody's going to Heaven 'til Judgement Day. I suppose that he meant the part about 144,000 of the select getting in, but I don't have to worry about that, I'm not going to be on that bus, anyway.
You do know that the whole 144,000 thing isn't Christianity, right? I think it's Mormonism or something like that. If I was a member of that particular sect, I'd be pretty miffed. It's like trying to be the guy who sells the most candy bars for the little league team so he can get the eternally sought after free trip to Magic Mountain. No matter how hard you try, it's always going to be that little suspender-wearing brown noser who doesn't even do any work while his parents market the candy online and sell 138 cases. Maybe this could explain my ever-growing hatred of baseball.
Where're my 3-D glasses? That whole thing has turned into emotional extortion and multilevel spiritual Amway. A slave morality, as Nitzsche said, promising pie in the sky when you die. I want my pie NOW. It's not that I doubt the existence of God, just that I do not have a soul and am unwilling to do anything forever. People can be deluded into thinking that they are going to Disneyland when they die. But I like Lewis Carroll, and he fits in with Easter as well as anything else. It would be a lot more fun if it were still a pagan Germanic Spring fertility festival before the Xtians stole it.
Although the Jehovah's Witlesses appear to be big on that 144,000 getting into Heaven, it seems to get some play in Revelations; Rev.7:3 for example. But I'm pretty sure that Heaven has sort of a restrictive membership, sort of like the Augusta Country Club, it's like an Eternal 19th Hole.
Why 144,000? Why not a nice round number? Or is God some kind of Illuminati member 144,000 is equal to 23 x 257 x 11!!
I think that was a BIG NUMBER at the time, they didn't have googols in the Olden Days.
As I remember it wasn't revelations all supposed to happen by the time it's author died? I mean at that point 144,000 would be like saying a bajillion catillion people. On the subject of God wanting round numbers I suppose if he did we'd all have died in the apocalypse three years ago. Unless of course God can
actually count in which case we'd all have died 7 years ago.
I died seven years ago.
12 X 12 X 1000
Ever get a pimple inside a nostril and you pop it and it hurts so good it makes your eyes involuntarily leak a salty liquid?
I have never broken a bone before but that has got to be one of the most painful experiences that I have had (outside of having to take a really bad leak).
Strange, that I have drunkenly fallen down and out of trees and over fences and off tall 10-speeds and I have
NEVER broken a bone before. But I digress..
When I was a kid, I had a giant blackhead on my ear just inside where I couldn't see it, and EVIDENTLY, I walked around like that for a few weeks as it didn't hurt, and I had no idea that it was there when FINALLY my BEST friend told me and that it had been there for quite a while, the bitch.
Mind you I paid her back years later. We were at a 'disco' one night. The place was a meat market, packed to the rafters, and a bunch of us girls were hot and sweaty and drunk. My friend was wearing a tubetop (remember those ridiculous things?) and she was
out on the dance floor grooving to the beat when one of her rather large breastesses POPPED out of her tube top but she didn't realize it because the place was so hot and she was gooned, and us girls just stood there and
laughed at her. But she paid ME back again later on that night. We were all piled into my car to go to a party after the bars closed and I had to pee so bad I was in actual pain. She suggested I stop the car (which I did RIGHT in the middle of the road) and go in
'those bushes over there'. It was her neighborhood so I ASSumed she was giving good advice. I raced over there in my impossibly high disco shoes and ripping my pants down, I promptly fell off a 6 foot wall just past the bushes into the front rock garden of this house.
I lay there in the dirt and rocks with my pants around my ankles trying to get my head cleared enough to crouch down and pee, then came back out again with dirt
and rock-impressions decorating my white outfit, bits of greenery in my hair, and raucous laughter coming from my car.
Anyone else had a blackhead in their ear that they didn't know about?
--
Morticia
http://www.homestead.com/morticiasspace/
Liz's apocolyptic dreams are much more vivid and interesting than mine, which usually seem to be added to the end of a confusing stream of consciousness.
that's a really, really scary dream. if i had that dream i would have cried, not because i would believe it was true, but just because i would be afraid of my subconsious.
for some reason i can hear the that song played at the end of the bugs bunny cartoons playing in the back of my mind as i read the last line. thats apocalypse folks!
Well, one time I was a wildebeast meandering around grazing on the Arfican veldt munching vegetation when bot flies decided to nest in my right ear. The flies bored into the eustacean tube of my ear and were annoying the hell out of me; I mean, I couldn't just sit down and play the banjo like a dog, ya know. So, after a while I was losing my balance, falling over somewhat, and generally wandering in circles when who should walk up on safari but Ernest Hemmeingway. He cried out, "Look at that fucking wildebeast, wouldja?" then he shot me right in the forehead with a custom-tooled fancy gold and ivory inlayed Parker-Hale .458 magnum rifle which solved my problem in short order.
I always imagine the apocalypse like this:
God, holding a book for some reason, lines up everyone on Earth. Then one by one, you stand in front of him and he asks you a question. If you get it right, you magically float upward or whatever. But if you get it wrong, the book turns into a shot gun and he shoots you. And then I guees you go to hell or whatever.
The thing is, the questions are all weird riddles and the people that say the most inane things always get in and the people that actually try to answer the question, get a bullet in the brain. For instance, when I stood up to take my question it was "In a world with no flowers or trees, what can you use to drink out of?" and I said "a cup?" and I start floating. Then some woman got asked "If 1 was 2, how far are you from an egg?" and she said "Well... let's see... 4 spaces?" BANG.
Touching story. Sorta reminds me of an old Loony Tunes cartoon....what the hell was Sylvester thinking? (In response to the Great Antwan's comment , of course)
It was way better than Terry Gilliam's Jabberwocky movie. Now just have a dream about Don Quixote and I won't have to see Lost in La Mancha!
I had one that Annna might appreciate. It involved a Buffyesque class protector-type person who was announcing his retirement and selecting a successor. There was a family of four or five vampires chained up in the corner and after he handed the ceremonial pink-and-yellow plastic water pistol to me (thus naming me the next protector*) they all pounced on him and killed him) and I was forced to kill them with the water pistol. Which, incidentally was full of holy water.
*Delusions of grandeur, anyone?
Was that an expression for Your own piss?
or did urination just come completely out of left field?
You have to watch out for urination from left field and things in your ear, these things occur at random times. Holy water has that connexion for some people; do not ask about Holy Smoke. Void where prohibited.
The descriptation of the statues was a little unneverving... so... detailed...
but anyway, we are less than 72 hours away from a new zirealism!
I've been experimenting baking bread, and I'm getting good at the basics. I like Hodgson's Yeast better than Fleishman's, but I'm still looking for Red Star cake yeast, live not dried. Also, I'm going to try some of the wine yeasts, like Chablis bread; and of course beer yeast bread. Gawdammed, I'm unneververated! The worst batch so far, the yeast didn't take-off and I broiled it instead of bake, which resulted in a sort of cake that was burnt on top.
"In a world with no flowers or trees, what can you use to drink out of?" Yer boot! The directions are on the heel! Write home when you find work.
I swear, you really do have this way of ending the discussion. If I didn't courageously post this post, I could guarantee you that everybody else would just look at the page with wary apprehension, waiting for the next update to erase all signs of your crazy concluding comments.
People, it's safe. Feel free to post as always, do not fear the ostensibly broiled (not baked) Biscuit.
Hey! I'm not going to wait for any half-concluded comments for the zhuerilmus to begin. Laissez les bons temps roulez! Y bienvenidos mi pesadilla.
At this point, we've all forgotten whatever the hell the article was about and this entire website degrades into a mockery of posthumous.
No, It wasn't a euphemism for my own piss, in this circumstance it was actual holy water. Although, thanks to you I will have dreams about squirting piss at vampires tonight. I'll keep you all posted.
Now I'm wondering what doing shots of vampire piss would be like? Oh, yeah. We did that last week. But so far, I've finished about 2/3'rds of a jug o'gin. I've got enough olives to hold out until the crack of dawn, and then I'll make another foray to the olive repository. And have relations with Janelle #5
#2 was better? the first is always a major let-down. the second is hence better than expected. and it's downhill from there, mes amis
mmmbitburger*8=happy
Or something that I don't know about yet, but Janelle says that she's not Janelle #5, but Janelle #2! as you say. Also, she's not the Janelle that looks just like her with a big Harley tattoo on her butt, but she says that she wants to get a tattoo. Maybe I can talk her into some interesting piercings...also, since I'm playing with dough, I thought I'd try to perfect Beef Wellington and Boeuf en Croute. More as things develope. Film at 11!
I hate it when people make blanket statements about things they know little or nothing about. They adamently push their beliefs upon others that actually know better. When I talk about depression and suicide, it makes most friends and loved ones uncomfortable. They squirm and avert their eyes. They tell me that suicide is a loathesome cowardly act fraught with self-centered egotism.
But sometimes suicide is the bravest decision a sane person will ever do. I know this firsthand.
I have suffered from depression since I was eight years old.
(*suffered* is the true descriptive word here)
I won't bore you with the details why, but it has rendered me useless for various lengths of time in my life. Depression is still a dirty little word treated like a character flaw, and it has only been the last couple of years that I have come out of the closet about it. I am now a magnet for ppl that suffer with it, too. Or maybe THEY are the magnet. Whatever, I tend to find them or they me in many social situations. We share a very scary bond.
That bond is a tightrope for many. Teetering on the precipice, trying to stay away from the leading edge, we live each day one day at a time.
Some days I look out my window and all I see are shades of gray.
There are no colors in my spectrum, just day after day of darkness.
Unless you have gone through it yourself, you can't really imagine it.
You feel as if you are the only one slogging through this barren wasteland.
And then one day you think that perhaps instead of slogging through another gray day, mired in your own particular grief, that maybe it would be easier to just not go through another day.
My particular wasteland has been fraught with landmines. Triggers that push me closer and closer to that leading edge. And one day I got this idea that it was just too too much for one person to carry day after day. I went on like this for many many months, and then one day I decided 'enough'.
I planned 'the day' in detail and ever the thoughtful methodic person I was, it entailed a bottle of vodka (necter of the gods) a shitload of pills, and a plastic sheet for my car so I wouldn't soil it with uncontrollable bodily effluvia after my demise.
I carried that plastic sheet around in my car for weeks. The vodka kept getting drunk to keep 'the day' at bay; tamping it down with a firm hand on a bottle to see another day was (and is) my M.O.
Some days it is the ONLY thing that sees me through another bleak day.
One late night, against my best intentions for that day, I took those pills (over 100) and drank that vodka (a 26er) in the confines of my bathroom. Grinning into the mirror whilst crunching them and washing them down with vodka, I grinningly said goodbye to my sorry ass.
For the first time in months I felt FREE and HAPPY.
Very ..very happy.
At that point in time I should have hopped in my car and gone to my favorite beach as planned but alas the drugs did their deed too fast and I was too gooned to drive.
Long story/short:because of that, my S/A was able to save my life.
I was mad at him for a long lonng time.
It took a HELL of a lot of courage to do what I did that night.
Much introspection. Weighing the pros and cons, what effect it would have on my loved ones left behind. And I am here today to tell you that sometimes, just sometimes, the pros outweigh the cons and despite your best intentions, they push you over into that black abyss, and there is no turning back.
Well, next time that you get depressed, I think that you should go to Nanaimo and give a random fisherman an enthusiastic BJ, I mean deepthroat, drool, and swallow! I don't know if it will cheer you up any, but it sure as hell will make a Nanaimo fisherman happy!
no blanket statements about fisherman.
The passage from the bible states that the number of 144 whatever will be vigrin jewish males (from the 12 tribes of israel). 12,000 from each tribe, if I remember correctly.
It's amazing the lengths I will go to in order to prove the innacuracies, inadiquicies, and blatent lies/discrimination of the buy-bull. (HA! A pun!)
Specially against NANAIMO fishermen.
I heard there are bars in Nanaimo.
Are there fishermen?
I pormised an internet friend that if I tried that again, I would make sure to go to his place (the GARLIC capital of North America) and do it there so that he could do whatever he wanted to my body afterward.
Yeah! Gilroy, Califoronia! They have a big Garlic Festival with garlic ice cream and garlic wine, but skip that. It's worth it to go for the garlic deep-fried calamari, if you like that. And there is the Indian Motorcycle factory there. My greasy bow-legged grandpa used to do motorcycle hill-climbing on an Indian motorcycle with a long extended frame. Gilroy isn't too far from San Francisco, eh? You could get a sock and make a tube-top for Thor for travel wear.
I'll cut four holes in my sock (ooo..five actually or I will have to steer), insert the turtle and ride The Mighty Thor all the way to Gilroy.
I should be there in a couple of years.
I could get there a lot faster if I had two of them, mind you. I could travel along the highways and byways waving like the queen (you know that wave?) with a BOX turtle in each sock and a little teeny tiny travel trailer/cooler behind me for the beer.
My S/A and I had sex replete with tickle mitts and rubber chicken suits and a roll of razor wire and in the ensuing mopping up, a wad of used slimey man-snotted kleenex was misplaced somewhere on the bed. Basking in the afterglow (and other lies I tell the S/A *vink*) I lay in repose for a little kitty-nap. Shortly thereafter, my daughter came home from school, hopped onto my bed and said HI MOM! then EWW! Why is this ball of kleenex all wet?
I snatched it from her saintly virginal hand and said oh I was watching a sad movie and I was crying *snif* then delicately touched it to my nose and *tossed* it into a nearby repository. Don't you hate it when that happens?
or it's gonna stink after a while.
Actually, I do know that wave! Queen Elizabeth rode by two blocks from here when I was 10 years old, we made eye contact and she gave me "the wave." The road was lined with people solid out to here from Washington, DC--I was the end of the crowd, and she was probably thinking, "Who's that fucking 'tard at the end of the line?, and thank Gawd I don't have to wave anymore!" She was riding in the Royal Rolls out the her horse farm in Middleburg, Virginia.
That's all you have to deal with is a moist ball of Kleenex? My wimminz are making multiple 3-foot diameter wet spots in various locations from their normally functioning sex-glands; it smells great! and dries out in a day or two. Kleenex would be useless to stop the copious quantities of sex juice around here.
What are you people babbling about? Zirealism is only 3 hours away!
I can hardly wait for more of Antwan's puerile drivel in response to a perfectly good cartoon. Bring it on, bitch!
What, How dare anyone insult the GREAT ANTWAN "DOOMSAYER" HEARTS. arrrrrggg I lick Zireleasim with a greasy butt on my greasy tongue..arggg.
