1:05:05 I rose from the high-chair with the paper from grandmother's orange grove in my hand. My bride! (Just look at her, at her fingers which have engulfed so many men, and guided them in between her lips.) She matches all my senses, I declared in...
Women fill their rooms with things, colours and decorations, while men choose empty awareness, the Commander explained. Be careful when mixing my teachings with other techniques, he added. And be particularly aware of the weak in society; casual laborers, pensioners, people on sick leave. They will greedily embrace the opportunity to immerse themselves in dimigally attainable dream-states. He was right. Within weeks the randomly stacked container city's rudimentary streets over-flooded with zombie-like grey cyber shadows that literally moved in their own server assisted worlds. Mean while, in a parallel universe, I was subjected to Accusation Jacks insults about my lack of revolutionary insight and missing lust-creativity. I chose the Commanders path quite early, I argued, and stuck to it. His incrimination surprised me not, for when the girls later tried to tell the Judge and court about another reality, Mr. Accusation dramatized convincingly the relentless verbal and physical pressures he felt they had exposed me to, ever since my first experiences in your princess's room.
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1:02:01
When my Westonian grandmother was to be buried, for example, we followed the hearse by the bus route that had carried the Commander back and forth from his beloved, through the young, milky countryside. A journey that in it's continuation resulted in three sons: The prince, Uncle and Stepfather; lovingly called The Golden Boys. Later, while I stood in the chapel, listening to the priest as he read a poem from mother, I inspected my mind for improper thoughts of lust. The energy was rising inside when I suddenly got struck by an acute feeling that the priest could read my mind, just as I could read his, because essentially our thoughts are the same. I felt that he knew on a subconscious level that I knew that he perceived me, and I realized that we can not hide. There is always someone out there open enough to notice. As I write about this revelation, in the now of the now, I am traveling inward to her grave site once more, for an entirely different reason.
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1:02:02
There are many varieties of the feminine, but no separate masculine energy, the Commander insisted. The masculine is like the smell of charged absence. It is death. As a male you have to enter your feminine side to find the batteries, he said. Fortunately, not more than 80% of what I write is true, though, and every man is at least 20% female. "Thus, men should charge the woman with feminine energy first, straight from work. That alone is going to raise your energy levels so high that you stop wasting time." But enough of that. Lets focus on your fingers now, those that stroked my chest while Tercera and Quinto washed the family car. Tercera with a smile speckled by scorpion gloss over her blue shorts.
