B.L.J, Chapter 69 (Dumb part that we learn from the hard way, like the entire thing)

Chapter 69

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Babies hate peekaboo.

What do you think I should do, Rachel? Alfred asked the next morning.

What do you mean? I asked him.

I'm going through a lot of energy here, just keeping ahold of your ideas in my mind. I want to watch, but I need spirit sex too. It's like, come on, give it a rest, I want to watch! No more of your thing! Wait for me! No more!

Well, we could ask the subconscious mind what she thinks about that... I said sarcastically.

Come on, Sugar Plum, just call it quits for a little bit.

I was going to meet up with my friend from Innercept, Terry, and his wife Angela. They were good friends of mine, they had both been staff members at Innercept. We were going to go to a park and hang out, while they did some sort of fly tie thing, because Terry was a fly fisherman. I was worried: would I be acting funny? Would they notice something was wrong with me? I didn't know, but I wondered.

“I don't know what's going to happen, but I know this – it will be fun,” I told myself, out loud, using my subconscious mind.

I walked around the neighborhood, and talked to myself. I still hadn't addressed the subject of the bad ice cream joke. It was a growing problem, because it bugged me whenever I knew Robin was around. What had started as no big deal, was rapidly growing in magnitude. Sure, it was no big deal. But with me, and my brain, little things got magnified into huge issues. I was talking around the subject, and going off on tangents, when I talked about Robin. After awhile, I made a decision that I would probably address it. I talked about the dark spots.

“So these little issues, little microscopic issues... Times where I said the wrong thing, or didn't say the right thing, or acted something like dumb, not usually, but sometimes... Things that shouldn't be issues at all, become enormous problems in my mind. It's like, I don't find that embarrassing, you don't find that embarrassing, why can't we just let it be a done deal and make out with our problems and call it a day? Instead, I have to freak out like mad whenever an issue similar comes up, like when Robin says, hey, want to go have ice cream? And I say, sure, Robin, let's get double scoops!”

Yep, that's where it was going. I knew for a fact at this point that he knew about it, I implied he already knew, but I didn't directly tell my conscious mind he did... I knew it wasn't an issue, but still, there was this refusal to address the issue head on. And then, I did. I just said it. And it was no big deal. Still, there was a degree of anxiety when he was around, a very large degree, and it was bothersome. I almost didn't want him to be around.

I got ready, but on slightly mismatched clothes, a pink floral skirt and a patriotic tank top, and no makeup. Angela came to the house to pick me up. We rode through the city to the park, way over by where Todd lived. It was a park I had been to many times with Todd, and at which I had created many memories with Todd.

“So, you've heard of the saying, 'first world problems?' Like, a first world problem would be, having a cookie that is too big to fit in a glass of milk?”

“No, I've never heard of that before,” Angela said.

“Well, I thought of another first world problem. You break the cookie in half, and the cookie crumbles a little bit, and you get less cookie.”

She laughed.

We got out, and I walked over to the event to meet Terry. There were booths set up, I didn't bother to look at what the other people were doing. Terry was tying flies for fly fishing with kids. I noticed the one he was tying with was an amputee, and was missing one hand. In the background, reggae music played.

I reached out and grabbed Terry's hand. “Hey, Terry!” I sang.

“Why, look who it is! My favorite person in the whole world! Well, well, well.. I've been sitting here, all day long, waiting... And then you show up, looking snazzy, walking with my other favorite person in the whole world, Angela! Thank you for meeting me here! Say, do you know how many women it takes to unload a dishwasher?”

“No, how many?”

“As many as it takes to load a dishwasher!” He chuckled.

We talked for a little bit, cracked some jokes, before they pointed me in the direction of the food and told me I could go buy some.

Alfred pulled a sex cord. “Soul knows best, eat some of that down home cooking!”

I wasn't hungry, even in the slightest. Sure, my blood sugar was low, and my stomach was rumbling, but I didn't feel like eating at all. I felt like I was one of those people I had seen on the internet, one of those feeders/feedees. Those are couples where usually the woman is morbidly obese from the man constantly stuffing food down her throat, on purpose, to make her gain massive amounts of weight. It is a sexual thing, for both of them. Needless to say, I found this lifestyle repulsive. I imagined that this is what this was.

Come on, I'm not trying to fatten you up, you need fuel! Alfred cried.

Instead I walked over to the convenience store, in a funny state. I felt like I had done some sort of drug, yet, I had not. This was me, naturally. I walked in, and they said they had checked out the store for me ahead of time.

Alfred pulled the cord again. Soul knows best. This way! This way! Almost there! There you go, chocolate milk.

I really did not want to drink something so rich, but I had to. He pulled the cord again to nudge me to the cash register, and I felt that feeling of the feeder/feedee again. “ooh, this is kinky in a bad way,” I thought to myself. I stood in the convenience store, took off the seal to the drink, and placed it on a surface instead of in the garbage can. For whatever reason, I thought that was a more fitting place. As I went to leave, I had a thought. What if I put the seal there, then, I go back, and the entire time I spend at the park, I have a page open, something in the back of my mind, telling me, “go put that seal in the garbage can.” A huge amount of my mental processing, dedicated to wanting me to finish an unfinished task that was so trivial and dumb. We laughed, and Robin laughed, as he got the joke. Brain problems could be so problematic. It was funny, because it was things like this that created that kind of problem I was this close to making this issue a real issue.

I left, and headed back towards the park. On the way, I stopped at the crosswalk. A girl honked and waved. I did not notice. They were waving at someone else. Then, I stopped and almost waved myself, but did not.

On the way back, I stopped at the restroom, but the door would not open. It was locked.

I went back to where Terry was, drank a diet coke, and chatted for a couple moments before heading off again. We decided to do some more talking, with the subconscious mind.

“I don't understand what the big fuss is about cat-calling. It's alright, I think, if you don't like sexual advances, and you don't like being seen in a sexual light, and you don't know who loves you in a sexual way. But for the most part, people like to know they are attractive. It is easy to tell a woman, you are pretty, you are ugly, you are fat, you are skinny. But when a woman is out and about, and a man is sexually interested in her, it means more than anything else. To be seen in a sexual light, not any other kind of light. So, I don't understand why women hate cat-calling. Are these the same women who feel bad about their bodies? You have eating disorders, or exercise disorders, or issues with their bodies not looking the way they want them to? Because it seems to me, if a man is interested in that way, and you are just looking your everyday self, it's a sign that you are worrying needlessly. You are alright. Your body is attractive, do not worry about what the men say about you behind your backs, you are looking good and no one can take that away. So when I get cat-called, which happens quite frequently, I think, “Yes! Yes! I've got it!” And I know a lot of other woman think so too. So I don't like these women on facebook, the oh so attractive ones, who get cat-called all the time, trying to ruin it for the lesser women by pushing this “say no to cat-calling” campaign. It's hard to understand why women like to be cat-called by some women, who see it as a sexual threat. But I do not, I know better. That's it. That's all. That's why I think the world will be a better place if men just cat-call the women they are interested in.”

As I was talking about cat-calling, I kept thinking that Robin Williams would like what I was saying right now. I didn't address it until later, and then found out that I had already talked to him subconsciously about this very topic, and that's why I knew he would like what I was saying. It had embarrassed me a little bit, assuming that he would like what I was saying. I thought it was because of a time, which I had mentioned to him already, when I was 14-years-old, and we were in FAO Shwartz in San Francisco. We were standing by the front of the store, and I heard my sister say, “Robin Williams!” I got excited and looked around, wondering where Robin Williams was. Eventually, I saw him, wearing sunglasses, not recognizable by first glance, but if you took a second to look you noticed it was him. When we asked my sister what had happened, she said she had been standing there, minding her own business when she noticed a man staring at her and smiling. When she looked at him, she noticed it was Robin Williams.

“When I was five, I liked to eat food a lot. When I was 18, I still liked to eat food. Now, I don't mind it, but don't particularly like it either. Still, I get tempted to eat all the time, out of habit. Like, why not have the extra side of tater tots? Or, just eat a banana, it will make you feel better. Not because I really want to eat, but because it helps me think! Does it really? Does it really help me think?” I tapped the side of my head with my finger, as to send a memo to my conscious mind. “YES! It does so! And then, when we go out in public, I always notice how fat women are. Seriously, am I really that unattractive, compared to all the other fat women? I'm not really that heavy, I mean I'm not skinny, but I'm not that heavy either. When I walk down the street, I find out how much I look like a woman. Men honk, sometimes, but not usually. Usually, I just get the sexual interest energy, which does not feel good, not bad either, but not good either, but lets me know that I'm looking hot. That's why I say, girl, don't worry, baby, don't worry. You are looking good, baby. You are looking good.

“When I was seven, I made friends with Debi Miller. She was just like me in most ways, but not all. We were both fun, both funny, both friendly, and both weird. That's all. That's it. That's why we got along. When I got a little bit older, I started clamming up. We went to camp, and she would talk to all the other campers in our cabin, but I would just sit by myself and introvert, while occasionally talking to the official weird girl in the cabin. One time, when I was at camp, a girl told me it would be fun if the tractor was going around killing people and we had to hide, and then proceeded to hide from the tractor when it came around. We got a good laugh out of this, it was so dumb, we thought, so dumb. That was the official weird girl in the cabin. There was always an official weird girl.

“When Debi and I got a little bit older, we decided not to be friends anymore. No, we're not friends, my dear. We are acquaintances, and we could be friends again easily if we pick things up where we left off, but we're not friends. I sent her a letter, while I was at Innercept, and I said some things that weren't embarrassing, but might be seen as odd, like the fact that I had had misconstrued ideas. When I got out of the program, I saw her not at all. And when I went home for the summer, I saw her at the wedding. She seemed eager to see me, I don't know if it was fake or not, but I think it was not, because she told me how much she wanted to get back with me and be friends again. I think she was for real, I don't know though, people lie on the spiritual plane all the time.

“Another thing about Alfred is, he's a great guy. But I don't understand what the fuss is about, hey, we are not going to be together forever. I know what's going on, I know how it's going to work. Who knows if we will even want to be together forever? And even so, what if that's not the end? Because there is some research, and it shows that we keep ties perhaps when we pass over to the next dimension, so that could mean that we do not lose ties with our loved ones. I know this, my conscious mind does not. But that's okay, that's all right. We are friends now, and right not, this is all we have. The here and now. Let's toast to the here and now.”

While I was talking, I vaguely wondered if I had come across some original reason for knowing that ties are kept on the next dimension, like this was something people didn't already know. I wondered, and then suddenly worried. Damn, that was stupid. Of course it wasn't original, of course you don't know anything about this. God, how dumb!

It's okay, Salioness, don't worry about it. You need fuel, my guides said to me.

Alfred pulled the cord. Soul knows best, back to the store!

I walked back to the store. On the way, someone was sitting and looking at me and asked a question, and I asked what he was talking about. He said he wasn't talking to me. I was embarrassed, but not really. I knew it wasn't really a big deal. It reminded me of when I was in the seventh grade, and a guy asked me a question on the bus, and then I found out he wasn't talking to me. I was so, so embarrassed. It was funny, because what was once embarrassing, was now no longer embarrassing.

I walked over to the store, went inside, and they told me they would lead me to what I needed to eat. I walked over to where they were pointing, and there were sticks of beef jerky. I took a stick, purchased it, and walked out the door. On the way out, two 20 something men opened the door, I quickly walked out and said, “excuse me!” “You're welcome!” one of them said. I was thinking I should be embarrassed about that too, but was not.

I walked over and sat down in the park, on the grass. I began talking about what a mystical moment this was. I was sitting there, watching the people pass, and loving the moment. In actuality, I was uncomfortable about something. Robin Williams was making me uncomfortable, he was there and his presence made me nervous and anxious. I knew it was okay though, I didn't have a problem with him being there. It just made me a little on edge.

“Now, this is a pleasant moment, if you look around, you see the children playing, the grass is green, the sky is blue... The air smells wonderful, the music is pleasant, everything is great. Whenever something like this happens, I usually worry worry worry, because I don't want to go back to the hospital, ever again. But then again, I sort of enjoy the hospital stays, they are sometimes quite pleasant. Not like this day at the park, though. This day at the park is exceptionally pleasant.

“I like to worry about things, but I don't think there is anything to worry about right now... Let's look on the bright side, this is a very cheery day. I enjoy the way the sounds intermingle in the air and create a cacaphony of sounds indicating the presence of summer, and it is summer still, technically.”

As I was sitting there, something which made me even more uncomfortable happened. My stick of beef jerky, which I was currently taking out of the packaging to eat, turned into a penis, not Robin William's penis, but a penis with the essence of Robin Williams. It was still a funny shaped penis, long and slender, which reminded me of wonk, and the sort of things I found wonky. I was wearing a wonky hat too, it was red and bulbous. In the background, there was a Cheshire cat. It was a real Alice In Wonderland moment.

“See, this is pleasant right here. We can all just tell ourselves, hey, things are good, things are great, we don't always see the big picture, but right now, let's just look at the small picture, and think that this is a good moment. Very pleasant. It's hard to understand why anything could be wrong in this moment, when everything is so great.”

Really, in actuality, I was uncomfortable to the extreme. It was funny, but it made me uncomfortable.

I got up, disposed of the beef jerky packaging, and went back over to Terry and Angela to hang out for a little bit longer. When I was done conversing with them casually, I headed out to walk around again.

“It's hard to imagine how anything would be a nuisance to me at this moment... Yeah, true, I don't understand a lot of things about the world. But then again, neither do the people in charge, and they make it by. Another thing is, yeah, we always have problems at home, but then again, yeah, it's hard not understanding what's going on when I am in a funny state, but yeah, I'm in one now, but yeah, it's all right. I don't know what's going to happen, I don't understand where this is taking me, yeah, it's all right, things are going to be okay. It's hard to understand how anything could possibly be wrong right now, when things are so perfectly suitable to my tastes, but yeah, I think things will be just fine. I understand the issues at hand, and I think, yeah, they are going to turn out all right. No, I don't know where I am going in life. No, I don't know what's going to happen next. Yeah, I think it will turn out all right. No, I don't think I will go to the hospital tonight, or tomorrow night, or any night for that matter. Yeah, I think things are going uphill in life, things are getting better and better...”

I went on and on. Every time I said “yeah,” my voice had this ring to it that was effervescently pleasant. Everything about this moment was pleasant, the way I was talking to myself was soothing and funny, though I didn't laugh out loud. The thing about it was, I was dancing around the subject, and that's what was bothering me. There was a certain refusal to address the real issue head on, and that was that I didn't know what was going to happen, if I was going to the hospital, or if anything bad to that that effect was going to happen. As I walked around the park, I was having a good time, but there was something that negated from the fun, and that was that I didn't know what was going to happen. It was a looming darkness for this otherwise pleasant moment.

“When I get back to the house, don't worry baby, I'll let you eat some food. You need to eat, baby, it will help you.”

Is there anything wrong with calling my conscious mind baby?

“No, baby, no worries, I know what's best for us. You call your conscious mind baby, I call our conscious mind baby. That's where it comes from. If you want another nickname, I would say, not baby, but funny girl. So, funny girl, ready to go home?”

I walked, talked to passerby, and made my way back to the tent. Terry and Angela were getting ready to leave. As we left, I got the impression that there was something depressing about this particular event that I hadn't picked up on. I wondered if it had something to do with the one girl being an amputee. I was worried I hadn't spent enough time with Terry and Angela, but not that worried, because they had been exceptionally busy the entire time I was there, and hadn't had much time to talk with me either. While in the car, I tried hard to listen to Terry, but it was difficult with my current state of mind. He made a joke, and I laughed, not getting the joke, but recognizing it as a joke I've heard quite a few times before.

When I got home, I felt sort of ravaged, like something weird had just happened. I went upstairs to take a shower. In the shower, I kept talking to myself in that one effervescently pleasant frame of tone, where I would say “yeah” in an indifferent tone when I would think of something I was really worried about, to offset the fear. I thought this was the funniest part. I would just say, “yeah,” and my voice had this little ring to it, about something I was worried like hell about, like it was no big deal at all. My guides had to tell me to stop using this frame of tone, it was wearing a groove in my mental state, I wouldn't be able to pull myself out and go back to talking normally. So I did it.

Burn Like Jesus: Ch 66-68

Chapter 66

Where do you think we are going to go now, Rachel? Alfred asked me.

Well, we could talk to the silia self some more...

Okay! Let's do it!

I started talking, using my silia self, about crazed fans and the like. How there would be two types of people who would come up and talk to me. The “oh my God! Oh my God!” fans, and the atheists who believed I was full of shit. In terms of who I liked best, it was a tough call, but when it came down to it, I liked the diehard screaming fans better than the atheists who accused me of lying.

As I was talking as the silia self, I kept resisting the urge to directly refer to my conscious mind. It was tougher than you would think, because it kept coming up. Then, something odd happened. I started feeling funny about it, it gave me an odd feeling, just thinking about the conscious mind. And in my mind's eye, I saw a camcorder, perched atop a tripod.

“What's that? Why do I see a camcorder?”

Oh no, bad news, bad news...

There was something eery and mysterious about the camcorder, something that seemed to represent looming danger. Consciously, I didn't notice anything bad about it... I couldn't understand why it was a bad sign... But subconsciously, it gave me a feeling of something wicked and vile, and that was the feeling that won out. All I knew was, consciously, I didn't want anything to do with the camcorder.

Time to call it quits, my guides said.

I wanted to know what it was all about, what the camcorder meant... I knew it was a gateway to something else, something very interesting, but instinctually, I knew it was something I didn't want to mess with. The camcorder was sitting there, taunting me... “Come in, Rachel, come have a look...” And I was not at all interested. Don't go there, I said to myself. Don't go there. Leave the camcorder alone.

I had to get that image out of my mind. Subconsciously, this was quite a struggle. I had to remove that image from my mind by tearing it to pieces and stuffing it in the reject pile of images I did not want in my mind, for reasons I had no way of telling my mind. I had to accept that this was a horrific death image, label it as such, and pretend it was not strange or unusual to label such an innocuous image as horrific. My brain did not want to do that, it wanted to check it out further, but I had to keep relabeling the image over and over again until it finally just let it go and accepted that this was something it did not need to examine. Over and over again, it kept popping back up, and I kept telling the image to shut itself off and put it through the redirection process into the reject pile. It did, and things were fine again. For the time being, I couldn't listen to the Kesha song Timber, because one of the voices they used in the production of the song reminded me of the emotional connotations of the camcorder.

I had done it. I had removed that image from my mind. I had narrowly adverted a catastrophe. When it was over, and a long time later at that, my guides told me what the camcorder really represented. It was a portal to something, a gateway to look at my mind, in a way that would make me realize I was nothing but neurons firing, which would eventually, in the end, lead to my complete mental collapse.

Well? Alfred said.

What? I said back.

What's it time for, sweetie? Did you come up with a name for me, yet? We're still going by Alfred, but I like to have your input.

Well, I came up with a name... But I don't know if it's good or not.

Well, tell us what it is! Alfred coaxed.

I don't know, I don't know... I like the name, I don't know if it's what you want to call yourself, or not...

Oh, come on! Just tell us! Alfred hissed.

My name for Alfred is... My name for Alfred is....

Is what? Alfred asked.

My name for Alfred is... loom, loom, loom...

Then I promptly laid down, for there were a bunch of cords shooting into my vagina. They wove an intricate web around my vagina, and then I got up and we danced.

What does the spell do? I asked my guides.

You cast a spell on chance and his friends. It makes them intricately involved in the sexual rituals involving your vagina.

Really? I asked.

We think it's best that you don't know everything that spell does, Salioness.

Chapter 67

As the days progressed, something was changing. All around, spirits were gathering. Not around me, above me, up in the clouds, or on the other side, wherever that was. When I was walking around the house, spirits kept intercepting my connection.

“Do you want to eat, Baybay...” They said in a goofy voice that sounded like they were mocking Alfred.

“I love you love you love you, Baybay...”

“Ooohhh.. Don't worry your sweet little tush, Baybay...”

Tell them they can go where the money is and beat it! Alfred said, referring to the annoying spirits.

Not only that, they could intercept my mind's eye and do visuals. I watched, and some were not at all funny.

They are trying to get a laugh, my guides told me. They are not unintelligent, not weak, but they lack people skills, these spirits. They don't really have any friends. When they do a visual, trying to get a laugh, if they get one, it's a story they can take home and tell people. If not, they do not say anything, for they don't usually lie.

I watched the visuals. There was one with a horse, and a man on the horse riding it, and then he fell off and the horse trampled him in a stupid fashion. It was supposed to be funny, but I didn't laugh. When he saw that I was still watching though, he did a Goofy laugh, like the cartoon character Goofy. Then, I laughed.

I was wandering around the house, not watching them on purpose, they intercepted my mind's eye so I couldn't help but watch. They started getting dumber and dumber, scarier and scarier. People laughing and screaming in a goofy fashion with stuff coming out of their eyes. It was supposed to be funny. It was just sad and needlessly rambunctious. I was starting to say to myself, “make it stop! Make it stop!"

After the success with the Goofy laugh, they all started doing Goofy laughs. Walking around the house, I was taunted with an endless cacaphony of Goofy laughs. It got really, really obnoxious.

One did an animation that wasn't funny, and it expected a laugh. When it didn't get one, it showed a man putting on a hat as he walked away. The hat was too small for his head, and covered with red hearts, which was interesting.

I thought that was not funny, but interesting. Did he know?

He did. They pick up on the energy you send them, and you sent that one good energy. Sometimes, when you laugh derisively at them, they know, and they know it's not a real laugh. They don't feel shame though, they just wish they had gotten a real laugh.

While I was falling asleep, I saw an array of poodles standing. Then a watering can, as someone watered the poodles so they would grow. I liked that one.

That one was an intelligent one, who knew a bit about Earth humor, my guides told me. Most know nothing about Earth humor.

I lost contact with my guides, and channeled some other spirits by accident.

“Hi, what should I eat for dinner?”

“We're not your guides, weird girl in red. We are ones who don't particularly like you.”

“Why don't you like me?”

“Something you would do in college and on the streets. Kiss men without worrying about catching diseases. We frown upon that.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Is this my guides?”

“No, we're ones who don't like you at all.”

“Why don't you like me?”

“In high school, you should have been popular. Not popular, but known amongst people. No one knew who you were. If you are such a good soul, you should have at least been able to do that.”

I got back in contact with my guides.

Most spirits think grades don't mean shit at all. But, most think popularity in high school does. That's the most important thing.

I started doing something strange. I would wake up, and hear part of a song in my head. Part of the Kesha song Timber. “We're going down,” were the proper lyrics. Instead, it changed to, “You're going down.” It was directed at my parents. I heard that over, and over, and over again.

I hate that. It sounds juvenile, I told my guides and Alfred.

It's not, roll with it, sister! Alfred said, and he started jumping and dancing. Everywhere I went, Alfred was dancing. I knew why he was dancing. In my mind, I kept picturing myself dancing. I could feel something building, tension, something very interesting was going to happen... I kept picturing myself that day at the hospital: “The medication! The medication! Acting like a fucking weirdo because I was injected with medication!” While I was dancing all around the room. This is why Alfred was doing it. He said he was feeling it too.

When I was ready to go to the energy drink store, I walked there and bought a Rockstar. On the way home, I saw myself living my life away from my parents, in the middle of the city, living life to the fullest, dancing, wandering the streets, and having an all around good time. Herds and herds of paparazzi followed me around. I was living the dream.

I was sitting in my room one night, when Alfred made a funny noise. The noise was weird, and awkward, but it stimulated something deep inside me, kind of like looking back at the livejournal and getting the blueprint feeling. It was planned.

“I understand that he said that, and I don't understand why, but I understand he did it on purpose, and I wonder if he's going to do it again,” I said, referring to the noise he made.

I waited, and he did another one. Another one which stimulated something deep inside me. A spiritual awakening.

He did it again, and I sat there. Then, without warning, I said to myself, speaking from the subconscious... “Now, we do this...” And I turned my head, then slowly turned it around, for alignment purposes. Then I started looking around the room, lightly brushing objects with my eyes, in a prescribed pattern. I did a bunch of things, all of which were planned, heard stuff in my head, it was all part of a spiritual awakening. One thing took me by surprise. There was a unicorn beanie baby on top of a lamp. I had to look quickly from one of its feet to another and then back again. It reminded me of the time I was waiting to go home very late at night at Leah and Lily's house back in high school, and there was a clock, with two large gold circles. I sat and looked quickly from one to the other, to pass the time. I thought it was dumb, but I was tired and I did funny things to pass the time. I thought it was dumb then, thought it was dumb now. But I was more taken aback that something so random and strange had been part of it, that it had happened on purpose, just for this moment.

Then, I said out loud, “Watch, the universe is coming to a close, the dawn of a new age awakens. We will bring in the dawn of this age, and stop bringing home diseases from passerby. Then, we will eat friendship with bums, and cross paths with the big ones.”

I love to watch the house become removed from your parents, Rachel, Alfred said to me.

After I was done, I started pretending to act all ditzy, and sing the Kesha song.

Whoops! I was listening to the Kesha song! It warped my personality to become ditzy!

Afterwards, we became friendly with the idea of loving people of our own kind, and not the kind my parents wanted me to affiliate with.

Chapter 68

What is it time for now, sweetie? Alfred asked me.

Well, we're not going to talk to the silia self anymore, that's for sure. We could spend some more time, talking to the subconscious.

Let's do it! That's what I wanted to hear! Alfred said proudly.

I started gabbing. “So, I heard a story about my friend Rob, from Innercept. He lived by himself, worked by himself, and made love by himself. He was a made man. Until Innercept found out he wasn't taking his medication, and he was sent off to prison.”

My guides interjected, “Is this true?” They knew the answer, they thought I was joking though because they didn't remember.

“No, it is true. It happened at Innercept. He was living in aftercare, thought he was doing fine, and then, bam! A staff member found out he wasn't taking his medication as prescribed. He did not take it at all.

“I love Chance. He is such a doll. We are like this.” I held out my fingers very close together. “No, more like, umm, this...” I imagined my fingers rotating, with one split in half lengthwise. “That's it. Anyway, I like him because he's funny, wonderful, and loves me so badly it hurts him in a small way everytime he sees one of my statuses on facebook. He is cute, wonderful, and drop dead funny.”

We walked to the store and got an energy drink, sipped, and returned to the house. On the way back, I started gabbing about my favorite actor, Robin Williams.

“So, I like Robin Williams. He is a good guy, but not at all about the money. I know that, we talked. Another thing we talked about is how much he enjoys my company. He says that after he died, he was upset, because he didn't want to leave his fans with the wrong impression. He was a fun-loving guy, very positive, and always cheerful. But he had the cocaine brain, remnants of which did not suffice to remove him from the rest of the world, and he hated life. When he got to be in his older ages, Parkinson's disease took over, and was interfering with his acting abilities. Then, he had problems from the narcotics he took in college, which removed happy chemicals from his brain. As he got older, things went downhill, and he was no longer high on life like he used to be. So there you go. There you have it. The portrait of a madman. When he got to be a little bit older, he removed himself from the public eye to begin work on his charity projects, but he hated every second of it.”

He didn't hate it, someone interjected.

“I know, I was joking, geez! Have a sense of humor! Anyway, he loved charity work, it made him happy to help other people.

“I understand the necessity of sarcasm, but some people don't get it, like Julia. When she was at Innercept, she made me have her life in a jar. She was always in touch with my emotions, and knew me better than I knew myself. Like my book. She told me it was bad. She knew it. She hadn't read it, but she knew, no one like me could have had an interesting life unless it involved drugs, and no one wants to hear tales of doing drugs. So there you go, reject pile. Have a good day, Julia. Suck a cock while you're at it, for once. That's the thing about Julia, she was always so prudish about sex. I hated that. You couldn't have one lousy conversation about blow jobs without her complaining and making grossed out faces. But then again, she never has had an orgasm, so we can't hold that against her.

“When I was seventeen, I lived with my parents. When Ian was seventeen, he lived in a bungalow at the sea. That's what he told me, anyway, on the spiritual plane. He told me a lot of things, like he thought I was attractive, but not pretty. That's what he told me, anyway. I think he was lying though. He says he hates women of a curvaceous build, but without the mellow undertones of the mania induced conversations we had, he would have given me no second thought. He took Seroquel, developed male breasts, and had to be changed to Risperdal. That's the end of the story. No one should have to take Risperdal. No one. Then again, I took Risperdal once. It was wacky, and cool, and crazy, in a gloomy slit your wrists sort of way. I understand the necessity of prescription medication, I used to take Adderall. Favorite thing in the world. It made me calculus efficient, to say the least. At least, I did a lot of calculus on Adderall. What does that make me? Calculated! Ba doom cha!”

I don't get it, said someone.

“It's a joke that doesn't make sense, like most of the dumb thoughts you have on Adderall. That's where I was going with that. Geez, Phwwww!” I did an airplane flying over the head motion with my hand, and was reminded of a cool move Bill O'Reilly did on the O'Reilly Factor one night, where he did a swift over the head motion. There was something about the way he did that seemed in control and snazzy, he was making fun of some people who had dissed him. As I watched it, my guides pointed out to me, it was funny how he did that. I thought so too.

“Bill O'Reilly. God, I love Bill O'Reilly. He is my favorite pundit. He is my favorite person in the whole world. Not because he is smart, that's not it. He is, but that's not what it is. It's not because he's funny either, which he is, but that's not it either. It's because we see eye to eye on the issue of my parents and the medication. He told me, hey, you don't think you need to be on medication, you don't think it helps, guess what? You are twenty-fucking-seven. You make your own decisions now. If you can get by, and not rob any liquor stores or anything, you should be able to do that. If you think you can make your way in the world without medication, then we should at least give it a shot. None of this, drug now, ask questions later mentality. You need off that shit if it's causing you as many problems as it is, and you say it is, and I know it is, because I pick up on that from your aura. But then again, that's what they all say, isn't it? They all say, we can live without medication, and then they live in a fantasy land for the rest of their lives.” I stopped for a laugh.

“Bill told me he would make a point of making fun of my parents every single night on the factor in a special section. He didn't know what he would call it, whatever snazzy title came to mind. Another thing he said was, remember to remove yourself from the situation if it gets too hard. If your parents are ever giving you a hard time over something they have no business to, just take a walk and leave. Get out. There is no use blowing up in the moment over stuff that needs not be a hassle. Another thing about you is, you love me. And I know it. And I love people who love me. That's why I love you.” I stopped and sighed, and did another phwww airplane motion with my hand. “That's a portal to Bill, when I do that, I call out to him subconsciously when I do that motion. That's why I keep doing it. Another thing about my dad is, he is always towards the left on every single issue, like immigration. I think, if these people are here illegally, they should not be here. If they are not allowed to come in for some reason, either the rules should be changed, or they should not be allowed in. None of this, oh, they deserve a good home, kind of mentality, because that's what gets us into the doghouse. Then again, so do drugs. Another thing about SSRI's like Zoloft is, they rewire the brain to be happy in a way that is unattainable, making you less happy in the long run. If you don't take them ever, you will be happier than if you take them and then stop taking them. Then again, that's the same with any drug on the face of the planet, now isn't it? Another thing about my dad is, he loves me. That's what he tells me all the time. He loves me. But I do best on medication, and right now I am doing horribly. So there you go, there you have it, there's my fears in a nutshell. I don't know what's going to happen, but I know that this is not the end of the line for the hospitalizations, according to my dad. He says, you get hospitalized roughly once a year now. That's going to continue for some time. If you go off your meds, you will have to live at the hospital permanently. That's what I don't want. That's why, we say at the Zuhl house, medicate, relax, and die a happy death.

“Another thing I hate about Celexa... The way it always made me think I was about to fall off the face of the Earth. It put me in a weird mood all the time, a feeling of impending doom. It was fun, a little bit, wondering what was about to happen, but since I had never felt this way before I took the medication, I knew it was not the coming of the future, but rather, the coming of the end of the dose.

“I love the fact that when I have delusions, I don't understand where these little thoughts come from, but they do, they come dancing, dancing, dancing up the side... Like... Doot, doot, doot! This is true! This is true!

“I don't understand why everyone watches this. All I do is sit around the house all day, and sometimes I go to the mall, or my friend's house... And yet, all the famous celebrities are watching, wherever I go. Like, doesn't it get a bit dull?”

“I enjoy things of a friendly nature with ghosts. Is that what you call Alfred, a ghost? I think you might call him a slimeball, for not understanding that I have wants and needs in the bedroom as well. Like, when I get off, I like to get off about eight times, and then call it quits. When Alfred and I get off together, he gets off, and then I stop. Like, what about me? When do I get off? I'm falling off right now... Wooh...”

I started noticing something funny. I got a feeling of being a lump of brain cells, a lump of fatty tissue.

Okay, time to call it quits... my guides said. You are getting irked out. It is common to get irked out in this state, before it is very well integrated.

What is integrated?

Your conscious with your subconscious, they integrate together. It takes about six to nine months. Anyway, go splash cold water on your face.

I did so, when I came out, it hadn't gone away. I was a lump of fatty tissue in my brain. Like my brain was who I was, I was not a soul, I did not have a soul. I thought, tough break for atheists. This is how they must feel all the time. It was disgusting, and made me realize how deeply I believed in the spirit, and how everyone must, to avoid the feeling of just being a lump of fatty tissue in the brain.

It will go away in a little bit, we will do more tomorrow. If we do more right now, it gets worse, and you will feel funny for a few weeks. It's not dangerous, really. It's not the same thing as the camcorder. That's dangerous, but we weren't allowed to tell you that. This is not, it just gets really really uncomfortable and depressing and irksome.

I wondered about this feeling. It was an interesting feeling. People who did drugs were missing out, because they hadn't experienced the interesting feeling of being a lump of fatty tissue only.

Burn Like Jesus: Chapters 63-65 (SUBBIE BEGINS!!!)

Chapter 63

Alfred, why do you love me? I asked Alfred one night.

Because you know how to suck cock, now bow down, bitch!

I started sucking his invisible cock. When he came, I pretended to swallow his semen.

I got stuck in a loop. Everytime I swallowed, I immediately felt the uncontrollable urge to swallow again. It was horrible, it was embarrassing, and it was annoying. Finally, after awhile, I stopped doing it, when my thoughts went elsewhere.

What's that, Sugar Plum? Why did you do that just now? Was it too much for you?

The swallowing problem.... I breathed.

I had had this problem before, at Innercept, when I used to do cough syrup. Later in the evening, I had this problem where I would start swallowing over and over again. I would end up swallowing a bunch of air, then burp, then immediately after burping, start swallowing again.

Why do you do that, Sugar Plum? Why do you continue swallowing even though you don't want to?

If I stop... I can't stop. I can't stop doing it. It's out of my control!

Well, Sugar Plum, the only way to get over it is to desensitize you to it! How about a toast? He held up a glass, and we toasted, not to the new age, to the dawning of the demise of the worry wart.

I started swallowing uncontrollably again.

Awww, don't do that, Sugar Plum! He laughed.

Chapter 64

I think female porn stars should be called pornomaidens.

Hey, Sugar Plum! Alfred screamed at me the next day. How about we talk to the silia self some more?

Okay! I said enthusiastically. I was still feeling a little bit funny from the energy drain.

Don't worry, the energy will rebuild very shortly. Let's go!

So, I started using my silia self to talk. The silia self talked about people she'd called out to on the spiritual plane, like Brandon. Apparently, back in the day, I had called out to him and flung myself at him.

“And then... I said... He said.. NOOOO!!!! He told me he was interested, but not in more than a sexual relationship. If I wanted that, I was fine. I could have it. But no more. NO MORE!!!!”

I straightened up and acted proper. “I miss Matthew. I miss Matthew! I wish, he would just, call me or something, because it's been like, forever and stuff, but he's always busy... Always busy.. I miss him! I miss him!” I wiped invisible tears from my cheek. “I miss him!”

Then, I did some funny movements. “I wish I could just, somehow... God, so restraining!” I moved my body, trying to jump out of it.

“Then, he told me, I was not the one he loved, she was...”

Who did? Alfred asked.

“Stephen,” I said. He was a guy I knew from Innercept, who I had skyped with a lot.

“And then, he told me, watch out! I am your man! The very next day! And I'm like, what? What? FILTHY ROTTEN SCOUNDREL!!! I LOVED YOU!!! BUT YOU DIDN'T LOVE ME!!!”

We talked on and on, and I acted out scenes from past lives, scenes I didn't understand at all consciously, no way jose, but Alfred did, and thought it was really funny.

I dig your silia jokes, Alfred said.

I wondered what the silia jokes were. Were they jokes I made subconsciously to him when I was acting out the scenes? I didn't know.

At one point, I got tempted to refer directly to my mind, because it was holding me back. Talk to it, talk about it, do something to that effect, bring my awareness to the thing right up there inside my head.

Don't do it, the spirit guides said. It's not dangerous... It's just really, really dumb. We don't want to see it.

I knew it was going somewhere I didn't want it to go. I was directing it a little bit consciously, and when I brought attention to my mind, I got a vague funny feeling, a funny feeling like, this is something that would be very very interesting, a good story to tell later perhaps, but not a fun experience. Don't do it. Don't do it.

Chapter 65

Where do you want to do it? The guides asked me.

Do what? I asked, wondering what they were talking about.

Talk to your subconscious mind, silly girl!

We went downstairs, and sat in the family room. Your go, they told me.

I began to talk out loud. “Well, I understand the necessity of my brain, but I don't understand all the weird zombie girl stuff. I liked weird zombie girl, but it wasn't that funny, it just tickled me the right way. I don't understand why I went over it so many times in my mind, thinking it was the funniest thing ever. It's funny, all right, but not as funny as weird zombie boy. And I understand where you are going with this, Rachel, but you don't need to make me have such horrific images in my mind all the time with the weird zombie boy thing going through it all the time either, okay? Another thing is, I liked my dad's idea about working out less and eating more food, but I think that does not work in the long run. It is hard to maintain a lifestyle of eating a lot of fast food and not working out, and not getting really really heavy, like him. So from here on out, no fast food, okay? Sure? Okay, conscious mind. That's fine. Another thing is, I have no idea where you find these things going on in your brain, Rachel, the idea of your love of spiders, and insects. I hate those things very, very much. I don't want to look at them all the time in a computer game, that's just too much dumbfuckery for my taste. Another thing is, I want your dad to stop looking at my mom and making dumb ass remarks about how she's right all the time. She's a dumbfuck, but he listens to her about everything. Everything she says, goes. I hate that. I wish they would leave me the fuck alone, and forget my medication every time they want to give it to me. Another thing is, I hate my dad a lot less than my mom, but I hate both of them the same. They both sent me to Innercept, both took away my rights, and both made me eat food I didn't like when I was fifteen. Not what you're thinking, dumb girl. Outside the box. Ideas about what I need to do to make a living. I don't want to be a computer gamer, I hate computer games! I hate them, I hate them, I hate them! I liked Sim City, I did not like Sim Ant, I did not like Starcraft, and I hated Diablo! Stop making me play those damn games! Another thing is, you are good at working at your mind problems, but not at feeling a solution to the good part. Your algorithmic programming abilities. You are good at it, yes, but you don't know shit about how to make it foolproof, so stop acting like you program flawlessly! I'm actually not serious, you are better than most people at making games. That's why you could do it if you wanted to, but I don't want you to, so don't! Another thing is, I like to eat food right when I go to bed at night so that I don't have to work as hard burning fuel all night long. Okay, not really, I'm not serious. Don't eat before bedtime, it hurts me. Another thing is, you are a good girl. Don't let guys walk all over you, don't let them sleep with you if you don't want them to, and don't give in just because they want to do something with you! We both hate that, but you are such a pushover, you just let guys use you all the time! I hate it! I do not care if you love me, conscious mind, I love you so much it makes me feel good just hearing your voice all the time, but I wanted you to know a few things. And so, that's it, that's all. That's what I wanted to tell you.

“I wanted to talk about something that I love to think about. That is, Bill Clinton. He's my favorite. Seriously, I love Bill Clinton. I love him so much, it is hard to understand how much I love him. But no, that's not it. I don't love him because he's a sex symbol, which he is, that's true. He is the best guy for making the world a better place, and he did a fantastic job as president. One thing that's not true about the Lewinsky scandal, it ruined Bill's career. It did not, it did not even put a damper on it. He is wonderful at putting on a show and pretending that never happened, but it did happen, so let's talk about it. He was the one who told the public that he was not having sexual relations with that woman, and he was. But that's not the point. He did, but that's not the point. He had sexual relations with other women as well, and that wasn't the issue. He was good at making things look like they were okay even when he was accused of obstruction of justice, and glossing that over, and doing his best despite all the bad press. I love Bill Clinton. He is not only a sex symbol, he is the most wonderful man on the planet. And that's what I have to say about that.

“Why do you think I like this, conscious mind? I don't like talking from my perspective, it's hard to understand what you are thinking most of the time, and it hurts me to understand where it seems we are going all the time. I know facts, yes, that's true. But it hurts me to realize how far it goes in the ways of the masturbatorial place... You need to masturbate more. That's final. Just do it.”

We went on to talk about some of my sexual fantasies, and how they came to be, and the reasons why I had them.

Energy Rebalancing: From Nervous Wreck, to Commander Cool

When I was 27, I got in touch with my spirit guides. I was so happy because for a long time I had been obsessed with psychic stuff, yet not able to harness my own power, suddenly I was psychic. It is a long story and I don't want to get into it here, what I want to talk about here is energy rebalancing. From age 14, I had taken Adderall. I also took Ritalin as a child. The prescription drugs do say, not for longterm use. As I took Adderall every day, a drug that enhances dopamine, the equilibrium reacts by shutting down dopamine production. Over time, this turned me into a nervous wreck. I had to avoid topics in my mind, and when the right topics came up, I would start screaming my calming word "spirits," and acting like I was going haywire.

My spirit guides told me they were going to do something called energy rebalancing, to correct the longterm damage that was caused by the Adderall. The doctors didn't even know that this was a side effect of longterm Adderall use, they just told me not to be so hard on myself. But I couldn't stop flipping out about little things that were embarrassing that I should have just let go, no one is perfect. It bothered the people around me that I couldn't just stay calm.

In the summer of 2014, my spirit guides started doing energy rebalancing. At first, I was in turmoil, my body started releasing a whole bunch of adrenal that had built up in my system from the Adderall. It was painful, but after about a week, I felt some sort of zest for life that I used to only feel on Adderall, when I was off it and sober. It was a miracle! Over the course of the next year, the biochemical damage, the "dark spots" as I called them, over time they ceased to bother me. I calmed down, mellowed out, and was back to normal, off drugs.

This is just one form of energy rebalancing. They do it for all drugs, except Thorazine, which is too complicated. For alcoholism, if you do not get energy rebalancing, it leaves life feeling dreary.

I can't imagine going off Adderall without energy rebalancing. I wouldn't have been able to feel happy, I would have always felt incomplete.

My spirit guides are announcing that they may do energy rebalancing for a fee. Email me at TheSpiritGirl@yahoo.com.

This is not a scam. There are a lot of paranormal scams, like the one where the psychic tells you you have a lot of negative energy that needs clearing. Sometimes people do though, which is the thing. But this is a common scam.

Write me about energy rebalancing!

-Rachel Zuhl

Danny Elfman's Story Request

Innercept, 2010

Oil spill on the news.

I was living in the little suburbia duplex with the other misfits and scoundrels that were hopeless cases. The others, or the peeps, or some kind of clan... We inhabited a house and didn't have to bust our asses working because our parents were giving us a comfortable lifestyle with no driving.

Anyway... I was withdrawing from Geodon at the time, or maybe still had it in my system. It was summer, and I was sunning myself, but I sunned none. Except the Almighty Son, and his sons of mine are family witherspoon.

In my spare time, I wanted to write a musical. I got fixated on musicals, so I programmed a dinky random note generator, plugged it into my Garageband equipment, and came up with creative sounds. All by myself. In the summer of 2010. The trick was to dink around and shift the notes some, creative genius.

And this was when I was so far gone, they thought there was no bringing Rachel back. The bipolar disorder had cycled out of control.

Truth: Honesty, God, and America First Please

I tell the truth. When I say I am joking, I kid.

When are you lying? I lie about alcohol. I lie because it keeps me alive, believe it or not.

****RELISH****

What were the police doing at my Subway location yesterday, hmm? I am law-abiding, sitting and have a sandwich at Subway, and why did Rachel... She went to the restroom for an awful long time and when she came out, the police were still standing at the counter. I have committed no crime. Are you mad at me about something? Tell me, ENGLISH!

ENGLIASH!!!

Donald Trump: The World's Fastest Swimmer

Nothing like rewatching the newstory about how Donald Trump made headlines. When he fumbles, the world looks on. With succes after success, God only knows if he's in God's favor or not, but at least Donald Trump tries. He tries to make the best impression, and as some don't really fathom, he bit the right human.

Forgive us, we are only the peasant spirit doers. We have no interest in humiliating Donald Trump, only in bending him in the right direction that will prove an advantage in the polls. Donald Trump, young at 78, will never be better than Bill Clinton. He knows he can never live up to the master, Bill Clinton. Instead, he scoffs at his supporters, makes them drink his piss, and wipes us a new one every time we dream about him. How long can this possibly go on? Will he ever confess to God his sins?

One person, Rachel Zuhl, thinks he will surprise everyone. What a presidency! He walked into the white house less than a month ago, and he is already stomping around like he owns the place! The hypocrisy!

He could visit the poor, the sick, the needy (in essence, the Rachel Zuhls of the world), instead, he finds hope on the golf course. He swings and bats and gets shit done, is what all his consituents say. I say differently. DJT, you need to realize that this is a steady time of shit the world is giving the American people. We need someone who knows the right tricks, the tools of the trade, not the eye-candy cherry eater he often turns the smiles of the folks upside down, how cruel. Upside down, all the blood flows to the brain, and turns you into a mile a minute thinking, laugher, and conceptualizer. In essence, Rachel Zuhl.

Can he live on envying the extraordinary, while chewing on the ordinary? No one really knows. They only know that if he fails, we don't get a better president of the United States. In fact, we don't know if that man has any rapist algorithms on his computer, even. The horror.

...