My name is hamster darling, I live in the wooden sun.
Your name is Sandy Stormer, your mind is godlike fun.
I travel on ley lines and wave ships, my heart is laden with soot.
Your arms are made of granite, your despair ways on your foot.
Mom’s world flew to the bright side, we ate Dutch baby fears.
Our dad worked hard in the forest, his anger constructed of phantom beer.
Rock was torn from the foundation, I was hurled deep into space.
You ran from the fire god YORGON, you burned and left no trace.
Sky king screamed “find me the shaman”, I stood and flipped him the bird.
Your hair turned purple and flashy, you stayed of man of your word.
I don’t exist, I am a mist. My mind is trash and my body a gash, a hole in the membrane of never ending pain where my angel is name NED, and he tells me, repeatedly, especially at night “Dan, you’re not here, you don’t exist, you are dead”.
You don’t exist, you drift from job to job, your wife left you, your red stained toilet is your shame. You eat Dorito pizza, you watch NCIS. Your hands are covered in burns, you yearn for a blissful rest and yet each morning, knowing your body is a fog, you roll like a log to your car, to the bar, to the den, by the glen, and you are gone because YOU were never here in the first place.
We don’t exist. We are artifacts of stagecraft. We are self-aware props on a stage for greater actors and directors and splendids that we will never know, to know, that they see us as garbage people, throwaway, pointless and discarded, because we don’t exist.
I don’t exist.
You don’t exist.
We don’t exist.
And this is WHY we are free.
… or …
Maybe you do exist, your friends, your family, your life.
But I still don’t.
And only I am free.
… and so …
I can’t verify the existence of others, not really. I’ve met some people, IRL, that I believe have a 50% chance of being fakers, most of these I’ve met in the last decade.
You can’t verify if I exist. I could easily be a faker. Hell, Occam’s Razor says I am, or in the very least someone with a mental or psychological disorder. In either case, you have no means of verifying whether my mind is in a pathological or diabolical state.
I have memories of a world since I was born, to include going to classrooms and listening to Paul Harvey when riding with my dad or TV, et cetera … memories of memories … memories of stories … my own experience, peppered with the assumed lived experience of others. Was any of that real? Did I wake up today, as myself, for the first and only time EVER?
I don’t know who this applies to, perhaps it only makes sense to an old burnout like myself and will not address nor connect with the aspirations of other people living productive and integrated lives. I say “productive and integrated”, because that’s one of the traps, this idea that MY LIFE is YOUR LIFE is OUR LIFE is ALL LIFE. When in reality, none of us can say much about our world beyond our own perception and pre-conceptions, memories and prejudice. We live in a subjective box and we assume that there are “others”.
My name is Daniel John Sullivan. I was born in 1970 at the Sedro-Woolley General Hospital, not far from Burlington, WA, our high school rival across the Skagit River. I attended Catholic school from k-8, and Mt. Vernon High School till 1988. From 1988 to 1993 I attended the University of WA, earning a bachelors degree. From 1990-1992 I experienced my first major depressive episode, this occurred after dropping out of airborne school (the first time) in August 1990.
From 1993-1994 I drifted a bit, worked on a NOAA vessel (the Miller Freeman) that operated out of the Gulf of Alaska. My dad died in September 1993, some kind of blood disorder. From 1994 to 1996, I joined ROTC (again) and ended up earning a masters degree and a regular army commission, and completing airborne school (the second time): Military Intelligence, branch detail Air Defense. I never attended Fort Huachuca advanced course, I left the army before I formally received my O-3 commission (though in my paperwork it says O-3 or captain was my final rank). I left the Army in autumn of 1999, during the time I was “leaving”, because it is a process, I went to a party, drank too much, and ended up getting pulled over for a dui. Not proud of this, not ashamed: I was going through a Q-clearance process at the time, because I’d landed a project management job at Hanford nuclear reservation. I never completed the Q-clearance, lost the job, kind of glad. This triggered my second “great depression”.
In autumn of 1999 I landed another job at a company that made soup cans, I did not last long there. I ended up moving in with my brother (November 1999), and his family, briefly until I could get my own place. It was easier back then to find a place to live if you didn’t have much money.
I worked in Indianapolis for a few years, for a time at Rolls-Royce, Plc in supply chain. I fell in love there, the first time, at the age of 30. I went back to school at IUPUI, studied informatics and computer science. I had about 15 decent years as a software engineer, and a bunch of years that sucked for reasons I’ve come to understand. I was married, then divorced, this is not a special story these days. I lost my mom to cancer in 2010, and my sister to cancer 2012.
After my divorce I felt tether-less, and drifted back to Indianapolis – and this worked, sort of, for a while. By that time I was a “user” of marijuana, and it was simply a pain having a “guy” so that I could buy a plant.
I eventually “met” a person, via the WWW, that I would call the GOAT KING, and that event, like dropping out of airborne school the first time, had effects far beyond the scale of its banality. Lots of people get grifted, lots of people, at weak moments in their lives, are available to be grifted. It sucks, but it happens. My response to this event eventually led me down a bizarre road of “anarchism” and the anarchist movement in contemporary America. I do not claim to be any “expert” beyond my subjective experience, but I will say there are a shit ton of feds.
That’s as much as I need say, but to put it bluntly: in hard times, strange times, exceptionally fucked up times, when a person might reasonably say “the former president was a baby rapist, the current president is a baby rapist, the next one will be a baby rapist”. During times LIKE THESE for the bland and mediocre half-successes and losers of that desolate realm of the American Dream … for us, we want to imagine ourselves BIGGER than what we are, better, special. But we are simply damaged people in a deranged world. If you are a Christian, you should know: this is NOT EDEN. And if you are an atheist, I need say nothing.
I am a damaged person in a damaged world. I could probably repair much if not most of my damage, but I’ve achieved a queer resonance with this epoch of mankind that “sobriety” or “healthy living” rebels against. Am I taking better care of myself? – sure, but this is so I can keep doing what I’ve been doing for the last 6 years – drifting into my own personal worlds that I construct, in my head, that even YOU, the podcast listener, know nothing of, and I can be certain THEY can’t reach as well. This is my castle, my cave, my bunker and fortress, my last line of defense: a place deep inside my head.
I believe cultivating creativity, in any form, is good and healthy for the brain at any age. I also believe there is a narrow boundary between creative imagination and madness. The boundary is WHERE the subjective mind looks, as sitting on a fence, and then says “in which world do I wish to be”. As long as the fence sitter is there, then a person can drift between both worlds with ease. But one must still have a job, eat, drink water, shower, sleep, live. Bottom line, I prefer the hidden world in my head, and I use substances to enhance the experience, to include music, and something to meditate on as the gateway. I prefer that world, but I have to live in this one.
My name is DAN, and I can summarize all of the above: I was born into this world, I’ve struggled with the world and my own nature, I’ve lost many battles and won few, I’ve had little romance and this is at times a regret, I have suffered as have many and I’ve had joy as well. I never expected to be much, and perhaps this was as self-fulfilling prophecy of my own engineering and that’s why I’m typing, jobless, from a rented room in a home that may or may not be my home in 12 days, we’ll see. I am not dead yet, however.
I have not given up, backed down …
I see the world as I do, my “fence sitter” knows the difference …
I could be wrong about what I see, I’m human: I’m probably wrong.
If you read this or listen to my podcast, you are likely ONE IN A BILLION … because very few people read this or listen to my podcast.
The reason why very few will read this or listen to my podcast is more likely a result of ME SUCKING than some grand conspiracy.
The world could easily drift into chaos as a result of: complexity and human failure.
There need not be an Illuminati or deep state for this world to go sideways …
This is not EDEN.
I am an old burnout named Dan.
If things are happening to me, they are likely happening to you as well.
IF YOU LISTEN TO THIS PODCAST AND IT IS DAMAGING YOU OR YOUR FAMILY OR ANYONE YOU LOVE, TO INCLUDE YOUR DOG AND EVEN YOUR CAT(S), STOP! STOP NOW! I DO NOT KNOW WHY YOU ARE DOING THIS TO YOURSELF, I AM NOT HYPNOTIZING YOU, SO PLEASE STOP. YOU ARE NOT REQUIRED TO LISTEN, AND I WILL SPEAK MY MIND AS LONG AS I AM ABLE. I HOPE THIS CLEARS THINGS UP.
What doom?:
I think the news is garbage and most of the voices you are allowed to hear are misleading. Reality is mediated by a scientific and technical elite for their advantage, what we “know” of history is managed by universities, mainly. And as there are crackpots on the edge, no one cares, and they are not statistically significant. So, I can’t truly tell you what I “know” other than math, logic, God? – maybe, maybe nothing.
What if systems of mathematics are designed as “reality traps” where people are kept away, at arm’s length, from the essential nature of the universe?
Look around: does your environment, the insects, the birds, the trees, the water, the sky, does it look healthy?
Look at your local economy, does it function?
Imagine you are Wylie Coyote …
Is GRINKEN TIME NEAR?
What is Grinken Time? – think of it as either a 1,000 year (best case) or 10,000 year (worst case) event. What does this mean? – 1,000 year event would be like the collapse of the Western Roman Empire in the early 5th Century or the 14th Century Crisis. This is not END OF THE WORLD, but events like these can result in setbacks, 1-2 centuries, population and advancement. A 10,000 year event is an event of such a scale that the only evidence of the last 8,000 years of civilization would fit into a couple paragraphs.
What is Boblimptock? – the age of penultimate mind fuckery, a period of national scale strategic military psychological warfare, mainly of the population wide trauma based mind control variety …
About 10 years ago I sketched out on a napkin, at a Greek/Mediterranean restaurant in Indianapolis, what I thought the world would BEGIN to go though in roughly 5-10 years … that means the process would have started, at the earliest, in 2020 … This is my baseline estimate, I stick with it, it is evergreen: THE ODDS OF SURVIVAL
I still have faith in God, and we could be in that QUICKENING that precedes the End Times.
All of these are subjects I’ve discussed since 2019
I do not think it’s the END of the WORLD
I do believe we are on the verge of events that will shake the world so hard that many will believe it IS the end of the world.
If I’m too dark for you? – then don’t listen.
I love getting feedback, but there’s every chance we could agree to disagree, and that’s okay, I wouldn’t want listeners who agreed with everything I had to say.
But as a reminder: I still, at this moment, do not believe it’s the “END of the WORLD” … I do think questions of endings are very subjective.
WHAT CAN WE DO BUT LIVE?
What’s wrong with being joyful and grateful? – nothing.
If I am just a dark troll under a bridge, does that really impact anyone’s life?
at a certain concentration, the geoengineering agents given you the “Wuhan Dropsy”, supposed to be “cooler than normal” at the beginning of AUG. Be careful to not get the “covid”.
