Without one, there is none.
Who is Rachel Zuhl?
We need to remember the question first. Who is Rachel Zuhl? Is she a spiritual being? Or a random everyday person?
I know her personally, and I can say, we love her. That's what they all say. They don't know her, but they love her. Who is she?
She is a wonderful woman of great intelligence and wisdom. She lives in a house with her parents on the end of a damn road. When she gets to go to the store, she says, whoopee! Out of the house! Because no one ever tells her how wonderful she is.
When they do, it's because they like her. Except, she loves people who do not talk to her, because the people she loves do not talk to her usually. When they do, it is few and far between. When she loves people, she loves. Loves! When she likes people, she does not hate. When she friends people on Facebook, she likes their pictures. When people like her pictures, she does not think they are perverts. Just nice men needing help with their acne.
When Rachel goes to the store, she buys water bottle. When she goes to the house, she buys Facebook page. When she goes to the hospital, she buys food. When she goes to the house again, she withers in ecstasy, not knowing who this foreign lover is.
Wither! They tell her! Wither! You will never make it in the world without us, Rachel! When you get home tonight, breathe deeply and remember. We are your parents. You owe everything to us.
Well, that's not it. When Rachel is old enough to pray alone, she will pray for herself to leave the house and live on her own. For now, it's prayer for meals and holiday parties.
Monday, February 9, 2015
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Mother of Mine: Cherished By Me
I love my mother. She is so wonderful. When I went delusional, she was right by my side, loving me for who I was, a delusional minfuck wildebeest. You know, friendly friendly. What happened next? Medication! Rachel needs to be drugged for the rest of her life!
Why is she such a bitch? Does she use the right kind of pencil? No, she enjoys happy items in the drawer of friendship with other worldy creatures, but she's not a bitch. She's a loving, caring person of massive wonder.
Why do I care so about her? Does it mean death to the prospect of health and wellness on my part? Not really, just lost respect. Because she is a wonderful woman, and I am a wondrous woman myself. Together, we clash and make madness ensue in the kitchen on a nightly basis.
Wither! Wither! Wither mother figure, wither! Make way! She is a gem, of course. But she likes to eat friendship parties and remain anonymous until she loves nobody except her child. Well, do you? Do you like having parties without fun? Wither! Wither! Alcohol syndrome! Dopamine deficiency!
Let's drug her, that Rachel. She is good. But she good be better! She needs more dopamine! This drug increases dopamine! What is that girl thinking, little boy person? You need less dopamine? Let's give her two drugs, one that increases dopamine, and one the decreases dopamine! This creates a chain reaction of chemical that do exactly what the doctor ordered! No mania, more concentration! Right dopamine! More! Less! More! Less! More! Less! More! Less! More! Less!
Whenever the dopamine is deficient, Rachel does not eat food, but prepares for battle. Time to remain one with the ways of the alcohol, she tells herself. Happy and carefree! Wither, dopamine deficient mother! You need less serotonin, but you don't see me telling your doctor about your worry wart attitudes! I should! I am with you all the time, not in spirit, in body. So tell your doctor, please reduce my dose of ssri, so I can eat less fuel and prepare for a good warning from the militant agnostic stupid motherhood counselor who remains futile in attempts to sway you on the remarks you make about Rachel's death sentence for drugs! She is right! Rachel is on the road to recovery from a prescription pill problem! Rejoice! She is delivered from sin! She will remain with the angels for now, until a good little boy named estelle prepares her for battle of wits with doctors and lawyers and councilors of a legal sort.
Who is that? Rachel Zuhl? Let's take her picture! No way! She waved! What a girl! Prepare for a battle of wits, people of character! Dot Dot Swish Swish! Dot Swish Dot Swish! Electrolyte imbalance is eminent! Eat watered down substances until bodily functions remain pretentious for seven days and live happy with mind of happy girl needing bible to read in daytime cuz her mind is friendly with fun things like pepper spray for that man who keeps texting and she needs worry to wither in the person of life who does eat pepper marks worry sophie hugh marker peanut sonny cooper doper
Monday, February 2, 2015
The Cocaine Brain: A Scary Place
When you turn 21, some people enjoy dancing and drinking. Others enjoy the act of stressing out constantly over every little thing they've done in their life. When I turned 19, I became a man of wonder. When I got taken off my Adderall, I became a woman of feeling. When I became one with the art of Lamictal, I enjoyed the act of agony.
So where does that take us now? Do we enjoy the same things? We do, not anymore. I used to enjoy things like caterwauling and pretentious folk tunes, but not the rhythm and blues of arrogant militant prescription pill antics. Why Adderall? Your concentration is bad. It's not that bad, but it could be a little better. No, it's habit forming. But that won't happen, because it never happens.
Except to Rachel. And when Rachel takes the drug of choice that ends up being one of her best buds, they decide it was all her fault. They don't blame themselves for putting her on the drug of choice, they blame Rachel for liking the drug of choice. So, they get mad at Rachel. Damn you, brethren! If only you could take it for medicinal purposes and not recreational purposes! We like the pretentious attitude towards fellow man you have acquired, it is helpful for those needing help with their funny feeling center of the brain, like with your delusional experiences.
Then, something terrific happened. They agreed! Rachel needs drugs! Everyone agreed! It was fun! And then, something happened. Rachel did not agree anymore, and was taken off the medication for delusional episodes.
Why, look. She is a pretentious fuck. She enjoys the banter of mental illness, but not the symptoms! Why? Why can't she understand that she is a good person too? I understand little of this pretentious attitude towards medication, but please, endure the hardship of cocaine brain!
I'll tell you about the hardship of cocaine brain. It involves constant embarrassment, humiliation, water world esque style. It is a horrific uphill battle as each incident one ups the other with horrendous humiliation. Things you wrote appear trite, not trite, embarrassing. Embarrassingly trite. People speak behind your back about your angsty ways and blame it on the caffeine consumption, when really, it is the Adderall, the drug they adore too, because it made you an excellent student.
So where does that take us now? Do we enjoy the same things? We do, not anymore. I used to enjoy things like caterwauling and pretentious folk tunes, but not the rhythm and blues of arrogant militant prescription pill antics. Why Adderall? Your concentration is bad. It's not that bad, but it could be a little better. No, it's habit forming. But that won't happen, because it never happens.
Except to Rachel. And when Rachel takes the drug of choice that ends up being one of her best buds, they decide it was all her fault. They don't blame themselves for putting her on the drug of choice, they blame Rachel for liking the drug of choice. So, they get mad at Rachel. Damn you, brethren! If only you could take it for medicinal purposes and not recreational purposes! We like the pretentious attitude towards fellow man you have acquired, it is helpful for those needing help with their funny feeling center of the brain, like with your delusional experiences.
Then, something terrific happened. They agreed! Rachel needs drugs! Everyone agreed! It was fun! And then, something happened. Rachel did not agree anymore, and was taken off the medication for delusional episodes.
Why, look. She is a pretentious fuck. She enjoys the banter of mental illness, but not the symptoms! Why? Why can't she understand that she is a good person too? I understand little of this pretentious attitude towards medication, but please, endure the hardship of cocaine brain!
I'll tell you about the hardship of cocaine brain. It involves constant embarrassment, humiliation, water world esque style. It is a horrific uphill battle as each incident one ups the other with horrendous humiliation. Things you wrote appear trite, not trite, embarrassing. Embarrassingly trite. People speak behind your back about your angsty ways and blame it on the caffeine consumption, when really, it is the Adderall, the drug they adore too, because it made you an excellent student.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Energy Work and Astrology: Why the Beautiful Unicorn and the Three-Headed Beast Sometimes Tango
Why do some energy workers use astrology?
My guides told me that astrology was tomfuckery. I already knew this, but I was glad they said it too!
One time, a long long time ago, I got energy work done on me from a shaman. She asked if she could use astrology. I wanted to say no, but I said yes anyway, because that was her thing.
So I asked my guides tonight, why do these "energy workers" use astrology? If it is full of shit, why do they use it? Here is what they said.
First they said, we think they like to buy into the same bullshit that their earthlings do. Not because it's true, but because they buy into the same tomfuckery because it makes the earthling feel complete.
When I asked again, they said that guides typically know it is full of shit, but some are inexperienced and don't know their fuckery. When a guide says, hey, you can use astrology, that's great! I think, dumbfuck. Not because I believe it's full of shit, but because it is. That's not it. When guides say, Find hope in small things, they don't mean, star signs. They mean, fun little things like rainbows. So when they ask their guides, Can I use astrology? They think, well, maybe, but don't count on anything weird happening as a result. Another thing about it is, when guides use astrology, they do not know what they are doing typically, and can mess things up. Rachel, your energy working friend was a good girl at the nuts and bolts aspect of energy work, but not good at shamanism. She was a crappy shaman. That is all.
Another thing worth mentioning is, something akin to astrology is very, very real on many, many planes, but not the Earth plane. So when guides think astrology is real, they are following a rumor that is on the other side about Earth astrology which isn't true even in the slightest.
My guides told me that astrology was tomfuckery. I already knew this, but I was glad they said it too!
One time, a long long time ago, I got energy work done on me from a shaman. She asked if she could use astrology. I wanted to say no, but I said yes anyway, because that was her thing.
So I asked my guides tonight, why do these "energy workers" use astrology? If it is full of shit, why do they use it? Here is what they said.
First they said, we think they like to buy into the same bullshit that their earthlings do. Not because it's true, but because they buy into the same tomfuckery because it makes the earthling feel complete.
When I asked again, they said that guides typically know it is full of shit, but some are inexperienced and don't know their fuckery. When a guide says, hey, you can use astrology, that's great! I think, dumbfuck. Not because I believe it's full of shit, but because it is. That's not it. When guides say, Find hope in small things, they don't mean, star signs. They mean, fun little things like rainbows. So when they ask their guides, Can I use astrology? They think, well, maybe, but don't count on anything weird happening as a result. Another thing about it is, when guides use astrology, they do not know what they are doing typically, and can mess things up. Rachel, your energy working friend was a good girl at the nuts and bolts aspect of energy work, but not good at shamanism. She was a crappy shaman. That is all.
Another thing worth mentioning is, something akin to astrology is very, very real on many, many planes, but not the Earth plane. So when guides think astrology is real, they are following a rumor that is on the other side about Earth astrology which isn't true even in the slightest.
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Monica: A Story Without an End
Monica Lewinsky. What does she mean to you? Does she mean disgust? Does she mean greed? Or does she mean misfortune?
Some people understand less about Monica, and more about Bill. He was a great guy, until Monica gave him a blow job. And then, he was a mean old wimp. Yes, wimp. Not because he really was a wimp, but because he refused to tell the public about the blow job.
And everyone was asking, "Was it good?" "Did she use a good technique?" "Did she move her lips the right way?" "Did she swallow?" And Bill was like, "Way, way, way not telling!" And everyone asked, "Why won't you tell? Was it bad? Is she not good at that?" And Bill said, "No way, jose! Unless you give me some good reason to tell you, I'm not telling!"
And they could not give Bill a good reason. They just wanted to know is all. So Bill said, "Would I lie under oath?" And they said, "Of course you would! No one wants to say that a blow job by a girl they think is pretty is bad! That would hurt her feelings!" And Bill said, "But the blow job was nonexistent! There was no blow job!"
And it went on like this. Until I don't remember what happened, and Bill had to confess. And when he did, the paparazzi screamed. "You lied! You said there was no blow job! There obviously was!" And Bill said, "I was only trying to protect her privacy you numbskull! Of course there was a blow job! It was all right, not great, not bad either. She wanted to. You can't tell a girl who wants to do something so badly it hurts, no, you can't do that! Can you? Have you ever known a girl who really had her heart set on something, so bad, and when you told her she couldn't do it...." He was mad. He looked all the paparrazi straight in the eye, and they all looked him back. And he said, "What would you do if this fine young woman were your child? Would you let her do what she wanted to do? Or would you put your foot down at every turn?"
So that's the story of Bill and Monica. The story has a moral. Do not let your man work at the oval office, because it is a filthy breeding ground of debauchery.
Some people understand less about Monica, and more about Bill. He was a great guy, until Monica gave him a blow job. And then, he was a mean old wimp. Yes, wimp. Not because he really was a wimp, but because he refused to tell the public about the blow job.
And everyone was asking, "Was it good?" "Did she use a good technique?" "Did she move her lips the right way?" "Did she swallow?" And Bill was like, "Way, way, way not telling!" And everyone asked, "Why won't you tell? Was it bad? Is she not good at that?" And Bill said, "No way, jose! Unless you give me some good reason to tell you, I'm not telling!"
And they could not give Bill a good reason. They just wanted to know is all. So Bill said, "Would I lie under oath?" And they said, "Of course you would! No one wants to say that a blow job by a girl they think is pretty is bad! That would hurt her feelings!" And Bill said, "But the blow job was nonexistent! There was no blow job!"
And it went on like this. Until I don't remember what happened, and Bill had to confess. And when he did, the paparazzi screamed. "You lied! You said there was no blow job! There obviously was!" And Bill said, "I was only trying to protect her privacy you numbskull! Of course there was a blow job! It was all right, not great, not bad either. She wanted to. You can't tell a girl who wants to do something so badly it hurts, no, you can't do that! Can you? Have you ever known a girl who really had her heart set on something, so bad, and when you told her she couldn't do it...." He was mad. He looked all the paparrazi straight in the eye, and they all looked him back. And he said, "What would you do if this fine young woman were your child? Would you let her do what she wanted to do? Or would you put your foot down at every turn?"
So that's the story of Bill and Monica. The story has a moral. Do not let your man work at the oval office, because it is a filthy breeding ground of debauchery.
Sunday, January 11, 2015
You Will Want to Read More on the Subject When Not Under The Influence of Shrooms
What is money?
We love money, but do we know what it is? Do we exist without care for the environment, and pretend we enjoy things of a monetary nature, without understanding what it is?
We love money. Money, money, money, beef. We hate beef, because it is easy to digest, hard wonder about, and hard to reexamine afterwards. When beef is eaten by homeless folks, their heads explode with passion. We understand why, but do not understand why women do not use their minds for exalting the men who do not explode, but instead implode.
When women of different ethnicities behave erratically, some do not perceive the same type of outcomes to their actions. When one woman loves another, the same woman becomes confused with adulterous waves. Sometimes, three women love each other at the same time. When three women love each other at the same time, they love each other not the same, but one more than another. Wither, dear friend. You cannot have it one way or the other, it is good not to ask too many questions of the subconscious mind or else it will behave without care for the conscious, and devour so many random eating disorder particles that it pretends to speak without care for the well-being of the mindless freaks who force feed algebra and geometry to wild woolly crazy death advertisers.
Believe, hobo of choice. Your urine is fertile, your mind is healthy, and your frenzied dog pile wonders are of a new age. Believe, particle wave enhancement therapy specialist. You know your shit, so don't believe what you are doing is helpful for the masses, instead, believe in the power of the Holy Ghost.
We love money, but do we know what it is? Do we exist without care for the environment, and pretend we enjoy things of a monetary nature, without understanding what it is?
We love money. Money, money, money, beef. We hate beef, because it is easy to digest, hard wonder about, and hard to reexamine afterwards. When beef is eaten by homeless folks, their heads explode with passion. We understand why, but do not understand why women do not use their minds for exalting the men who do not explode, but instead implode.
When women of different ethnicities behave erratically, some do not perceive the same type of outcomes to their actions. When one woman loves another, the same woman becomes confused with adulterous waves. Sometimes, three women love each other at the same time. When three women love each other at the same time, they love each other not the same, but one more than another. Wither, dear friend. You cannot have it one way or the other, it is good not to ask too many questions of the subconscious mind or else it will behave without care for the conscious, and devour so many random eating disorder particles that it pretends to speak without care for the well-being of the mindless freaks who force feed algebra and geometry to wild woolly crazy death advertisers.
Believe, hobo of choice. Your urine is fertile, your mind is healthy, and your frenzied dog pile wonders are of a new age. Believe, particle wave enhancement therapy specialist. You know your shit, so don't believe what you are doing is helpful for the masses, instead, believe in the power of the Holy Ghost.
Calculus: Human Art Brings Hope to the Human Race
What are mind hiccups? Do they exist without care? Are they used for their own special purpose?
Where, oh where, did my little dog go? This is a mind collapsed statement. When the dog goes away, so does the mind. The mind is gone. The dog is gone. Everyone knows when they hear these words, dogs are going to go to hell and kill each other very softly, over and over again, quickly, shortly, and precisely.
When one dog goes to hell, so does another. When three dogs go to hell, two dogs are left behind. Not on Earth, in heaven. When seventeen thousand dogs go to hell, seventeen hundred become one with the universe.
What does all this mean? Is this important to my spiritual development? No, not really. This is just jibber jabber, to distract you from the real issue at hand. Your mind is using too much calculus to pretend it exists without far-fetched ideas about Harry Potter.
Do not listen to the rimble ramble about calculus. Calculus is important, but not as important as hearing what you need to say for the rest of eternity. The words you speak mean volumes about where you are in your current state of life issues. If you are good at walking to the mall, someone will tell you that someone is not good at walking at all, and you should feel proud of yourself. Why? There is always someone who is bad at something, and they always know that it is not you who are doing the thing with your mind, it is your other half.
Believe in ecstatic visions of calculus, it is a beautiful art form. When one calculon breathes life into another, bring hope for the human race. We all need to know where you are going to get through this life time, it is easy to predict, hard to understand, and easy to recreate in the afterlife.
One thing about life is, calculus is not an art, it is an exquisite science. When calculus is good, so are your brain cells. Brink, do not eat the water, and believe in the power of the holy ghost.
Where, oh where, did my little dog go? This is a mind collapsed statement. When the dog goes away, so does the mind. The mind is gone. The dog is gone. Everyone knows when they hear these words, dogs are going to go to hell and kill each other very softly, over and over again, quickly, shortly, and precisely.
When one dog goes to hell, so does another. When three dogs go to hell, two dogs are left behind. Not on Earth, in heaven. When seventeen thousand dogs go to hell, seventeen hundred become one with the universe.
What does all this mean? Is this important to my spiritual development? No, not really. This is just jibber jabber, to distract you from the real issue at hand. Your mind is using too much calculus to pretend it exists without far-fetched ideas about Harry Potter.
Do not listen to the rimble ramble about calculus. Calculus is important, but not as important as hearing what you need to say for the rest of eternity. The words you speak mean volumes about where you are in your current state of life issues. If you are good at walking to the mall, someone will tell you that someone is not good at walking at all, and you should feel proud of yourself. Why? There is always someone who is bad at something, and they always know that it is not you who are doing the thing with your mind, it is your other half.
Believe in ecstatic visions of calculus, it is a beautiful art form. When one calculon breathes life into another, bring hope for the human race. We all need to know where you are going to get through this life time, it is easy to predict, hard to understand, and easy to recreate in the afterlife.
One thing about life is, calculus is not an art, it is an exquisite science. When calculus is good, so are your brain cells. Brink, do not eat the water, and believe in the power of the holy ghost.
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