muak

my gut's telling me shivon is elon's handler and i'm loving it.

while these epstein files get fully revealed, every single rich person in america is directly or indirectly implicated with the kidnapping, torture, murder and profiteering of children. all our big industries, especially medical and tech got where they are by experimenting on aborted fetuses, petri dish fertilization, interspecies, cloning, stem cell research, fucking genome sequencing. 

every single rich person has known about all these nefarious activities from the start. we produce the movies about this shit. but what rich people fail to comprehend or care about is that it's always been blatantly obvious to everybody who is not rich, the big, wild, ignorant, unwashed outside, we're not bothered with your bullshit. we still breed unassisted like bunnies. hare and rabbits that fuck like machine guns sproging gonzalez, gomez and guadamuz for generations to come.  it's not a big secret, blackberry palm pilot jerkoffs! rich people are useless to invention, freedom, wit and wits. most rich people don't have foreskins. how do they expect to steal and eat our babies without retribution of the most painful and shameful kind. 

wage "war" the jews would on humanity, if they weren't so goddam stupid and ugly.

fome

is an old chilean word to describe that which is neither great, nor interesting, indistinctive.

it could be the predecessor to fafo or what happens to a meme when it falls flat. it's indicative of complacency and coping. it's a soft color, not ugly, code compliant. 

after years of left wing, identity politics, determinism and rebellion, after trying to make indigenous law a measure for amnesty for endless human rights violations perpetuated by authority and the church, chile has favored a mild mannered nazi racist to lead the country into the promise of futurism, tech based comprehension to carry forth the new generations into a values based society with opportunity and access to knowledge for all. 

kast is married to one woman, has nine children and has a predilection for british cinema and comedy. it'll be fine. it'll be fome, but we'll make it work. 

likewise, elon musk, has chosen one of his many baby mommas to stand beside him in the endeavor to pull civilization out of the rut of sin and depravity into a coherent future that's multiplanetary. his earth signal has chosen a female that's matches his outlandishness to someone plain to anchor the enterprise in reality. 

it's not supposed to be flashy. i'm super glad it's not sidney swiney. and i hope it works. he deserves a calm refuge and a steady coparent for his vast legacy brood. 

commitment

 i have a gift that everything i want in my life i manifest in other people's lives.

i am alone because every single man i've ever fancied has, at the prospect of me, decided on someone else. i'm too much. i'm a fantasy. do i have a match? no i do not.

doesn't make me bitter or jealous. i like when couples form in mutuality and respect. i love witnessing their happiness. i like knowing God works through us in mysterious ways.  being alone and staying in a good mood is already a lot of work, i'd feel bitter and jealous if i stopped working. by being the safe choice, the easier option, those other women have their own stupid shit to deal with, 

most real life sweethearts who have chosen better woman over me, have ended up angry at me and that sucks. i had good friends that i encouraged and supported over the years turn against me suddenly and definitively. and i get it. and i accept it. i'm not going to make a messy situation messier with my presence. 

i'm just going to stay in the lane that i invented, that only matters to me, and take care of my mom who steals money from me and keep laser focusing all my prayer on positive outcome for all our affairs. because my prayer works, not for me, for you. 

artisanal intelligence

i could do this for 30 more. blog on, i mean, to know one.

without family or friends to live for, others to serve, i join ranks with robots. back here in dataville, busted cyborg, the saddest existence of them all. true to form, pygmalion. once she's perfect, she's not, and the measure by which the grooming is perceived, disabled in the comment section.

i really want to kill my clone. stab her dead. if she's me, is it murder? clones don't bleed and can't be she. empathic suicide from the ranks of phone application. 

i must do this for at least 20 more. summon grandchildren from other people's kids. birth, death and property. i need an 8th house husband, taxation. summary of run-on sentences, earths timeline double helix. 

yesterday, on my way to church, just before the bridge, i saw andrea. guido. a former foe who friended me when i was at the height of disgrace, and plied me with day drink for three years to keep me at my docile lowest. literal troll. last she came around i boxed her head a little bit so she'd stay the fuck away from me. and there she was crossing my bridge, heading towards my house, on my hill, wearing a stupid pink tshirt. 

at least 10 more, until my mom's dead. yes, our aging parents are our responsibility, especially if you're first born female. paternity seeks future, maternity anchors past. ownership is like aura, it cannot be measured or established. own every day. own your blog. own what you say. 

rabbit rabbit rabbit

 25 years working for other people, for free, and thats fine. 

if there were any reward or compensation, i just want the money from the rent of the apartment i built so that i would have a small steady income to stay alive. it's only $400 a month and the person who is withholding it from me is my mother. 

i never took liberties of being an agent for anything except freedom of expression, i battled the censors and fact checkers and won. not for money, or love, or fame. only because i could, because i had the time and the inclination. 

and even though i was denied citizenship and had my original documentation stolen by the state. 

i did it and i'll keep doing it anyway.

may justice favor us all. 

madre goose

i used to race to be abreast of the greatest and latest, the first to find out, she with all the chisme. her ahead. now i want to be behind. 

millennia straddling the longest and the strongest. thirty in thirty out, my crotch is clearly a portal of sorts, a phantom song to whales and wales, beyond myth and circumstance, fully functioning, unformatted ankh. 

to embrace future behind-the-times self, i've quit smoking tobacco. by disengaging the news, the forefront of information, the cutting edge, i forfeit the pleasure of whole, white smoke and mental focus. going forward, she is calm surface pure chaos. cigarettes hate her, they're still talking "she'll be back".

the past was all about being able to predict the future, but time and stories are loops, they never conclude or begin, they never change, only molt. the cast and characters are clones, and the plots may twist, but they remain the same, a collective race to get somewhere first, all the time. 

so i'm not. i'm staying put. this is as far into future as i want to go. i'll watch from here what peaks and peeks, i'll stay the version that built an era, the earache and nosebleed that ended it. i want to live out the sterile version of future with my invisible steaming ankh out to pasture.

i have to vote in costa rica elections today AND i have to go to a funeral. 

 

chempress

 how to irritate people for just existing: be poor, be meek. 

when i was eleven, i lived in peru with my dad, stepmother and their two children. i got sick a lot during that year. i read "where there is no doctor" too many times.

before my mom was born i had an uncle named hal jr. he died of appendicitis after swallowing a cherry stone. nine months later, my mother was born. it's her birthday today, she's 86.

in peru, i died from the same procedure. in order to operate, the heredia hospital administered epidural to the base of my spine with a very long syringe. the liquid metal travelled north up my vertebrae ending in my center of my brain. i have, to this day, a bionic nervous system that heightens all my senses, relays them faster to my brain and heart, and amplifies my thought beyond my own perception of it. 

my dad prayed over me for six hours after the surgery, my body barely breathed, my heart fluttered on a cusp. i must have dreamt a thousand lifetimes, because as a child i was reborn a child. i just needed a second visit to hospital after release, due to a lung infection with pneumonia like symptoms. the inside of my lungs too would be synthetically enhanced. i've smoked tobacco ever since.

i was the only girl that year who hated princess diana's dress.