father to son letters


letter from your father 01:

Dear Son:

This is me an uberrashung. Today to me gekommen. The whole time I thought you might be my brother. And after so many lives, really we are brothers. But you are also my son. Just like I think me father is my son. And John is my brother, your uncle. But if I told you all without expaination perhaps you might not see what I'm getting at.

If I was an Indigenous Aborigine of the Americas, I would be a shaman. And I would guess that most shamen are either dyslexic, illiterate or have that ADS thing. Hyper reality. It is considered a mutation. Everything is a mutation. That is what evolution is. My studies have included some of everything with strong points philosophy and the two top western religions. A Bible scholar. Not the only Atheist that studies western religion. Many writers and journalists do. My real Dad in this life said.

Anyhow. It dawned on me that the story was live theater. That there was a real show with Jesus and the boys. And many women. And Rome had a big interest in the theater. They needed a new Religion. And from a military point of view, the Jews had a tight system.

When I was young, I was thinking about Jesus and figured. Well, if the bastard was really real, anyone can play Jesus. And play is the key. That's how we approach life. It is part of our instinct. It is how we learn.

And I have been playing with the gods. They are us. And what's brilliant about it is, I never know why I say what when and how do I get information that wasn't really communicated. Or perhaps. Upside down. And backwards. Or. The mirror image.

Which takes us to the soul. Every human, and animal, reflects something different. This is a real thing and can be tested. John my cousin, who you don't know. The one who lost his head damals. He had a massive package of information when he pointed his mirror strait at me. But he warned me. He knew I wanted to have it. Just with words and expression.

And it was an eye opener.

And someone else was at the table and thought we might be fighting.

I assured her we never fight. We play. Sometimes it is necessary to play hard. Without going through his mirror I would have trouble with the next mirror.

I see who I am by looking at others.

The twins, by the way, are also my sons. Ein, ich glaube, weiß schon.

I'm not your only dad. You son is also you dad. (Your son is also your dad.) Though you(r) dad may have been you(r) son. Evolution is a funny thing. It makes a Heiden spaß.

Anyhow. It doesn't matter who is who, distraction details. But I see my family is real. Not to be romantic. I see their characteristics.

And the woman that my instinct tells me I love right on back to the begin of the universe. I like her a whole bunch.

I don't want to talk about her. I just partly be her. Write her till she becomes real.

Now we get to the writing question. Do you wanna send you old other dad a short not on Jesus or the Chruch.

You other uncle, the one from my side of the lake. Can't remember. Catholic as well. Like last time with a few up dates.

The gods know what I think. It's part of the deal. One has to know that there are no sins, then it doesn't matter. We are animals and we are angels. And that's the story.

It may very well sound absurd. It would sound less absurd if you read the new new testament. And when I come back after a short break, we will play the game I played with one of your uncles.

By the way. It was the scratch without claws that opened that door.

I was at my daughter's birthday party tonight. She and some of her friends like to drink. Sometimes it makes me a little nervous. But before I got up and went, it hadn't dawned on me that she was my daughter.

Many people figure Wittgenstein for mad as a hatter. Which means glue sniffer. Some even think the same of Nietzsche. And what, pray tell, is sanity. I think it could be a goal. But it doesn't matter. One person is always mad. It's the combining and mixing that fosters a frame work of sanity.

Some people say they can't write without trying it. Writing is an extension of thinking. The act of writing, like throwing a stone, demands thought and it feeds on itself. One idea, like a new species in evolution, makes room for the next. Perhaps something that turns around and eats it. Like human fish.

The Bible is a funny story. I did not expect to find what I did. With the help of very many, I feel we have cracked the code. The church will fade away soon. The war lords right after it.

The war lords may simply go play in space. Like not so bloody insane children. Stop fucking your sisters and get some fresh blood. Evolve on.

Die I tell you what my objective is, my son.

I hope you laugh too.

To give a good name to instinct and evolution. For I know that they, it, is what is making us into the gods. And it's very real and I think we'll show Tommy what a wake up call is.

Ich sags dir, urgend wie, when I see who is there, they know it. On the way for one ball of chocolate, I'm thinking, I hope I don't meet too many people on the way, John is waiting. But no stress. There is time for a walk on the river. And I see someone coming toward me and think, I'll have to stop to say hello to this guy. And he salutes and I salute back and I look at him and think, this guy looks like my great grandfather. Even somehow still very old. We talk a little like he was my great grandfather.

And he saw, the god part of him that he doesn't really know, that I had finally seen him. Just like the woman in her kitchen in small town Italy. She knew me from her last life and wanted me to see her. Just like your sister's kid. He knew me from his last life and wanted me to see him. They died and went to heaven. And landed in this town.

And something I am now certain of is, I am seeing something that is really there. The holy spirit. It is instinct. Evolving in us. It's a fool proof system. No matter how many fools try to take the role of one true god, evolution. Instinct. The holy spirit will wipe him away.

And that is true on any scale. Big or little. The world or the work place.

Having a Dad, sogar two, that ain't really your real Dad in the Catholic since of the word; is somewhat impossible. I don't wanna play your Dad. That game is boring. I prefer my kids telling me what to do. Quite often they make sense. Worth a try.

Anyfuck. We flogged that enough. How about a random bible hit.

Acts 16. vs. 3: Paul wanted to take Timothy along with him, so he circumcised him. End Quote.

Timothy's father was a Greek. But hang on till next verse. vs. 4: ... they delivered to the believers the rules decided upon... EQ

And that was the end of the message of your father. Who said, no rules. Heaven is now. Away with Priests and Lawyers. So think about that. Or not. I'm going to eat.

The tree of Life. The tree that the man that called himself God. The father of Adam. It is evolution.

The tree of Life is evolution. And we are sitting high and pretty on the top branch. But the tree must grow. We must grow with it. And we must listen to the snake that knows that if there is life, we do not die.

Letter writing. I think David said 72 books in the old new testament. I suspect the reason they are not all included is they don't help the church much. Might even include stories of the women who received no mention in the whole thing. They wrote the sex life of Jesus into near oblivion. But only near. I know Jesus. There would be more women in his company than women haters. Women haters, War Lords, don't want them in their state religion.

Things are, of course, not so simply defined anymore. Hollywood has joined the list of prostitutes. And Hollywood is everywhere, telling us what reality we want. Gold fever. Everything built around the holy plunder machine. Come. Let us read in the old new testament for some inspiration. In case you still think I'm nutty.

Acts 16 vs. 14: One of those who heard of us was Lydia... EQ

She made purple cloth and did the things she was told. She obeyed and got old.

Acts 17 vs. 2: According to his usual habit Paul went to the synagogue. EQ

Why the heavens did he do that. Well, to propigate the new daughter business.

"We nailed the bastard on a cross. We will give you laws you can like."

Ape shit. Ape simply throwing shit at each other.

19 vs. 27: ... that her greatness will be destroyed EQ

Artemis hat many name. Mostly she meant the goddess of typical woman attributes. A little over done but they destroyed her temple in the name of Christ and I can't accept that. It is the same story. Woman, love, sex, babies. Tree of life. Knowledge wisdom.

Rice with tomatoes and fish.

vs. 27 continued: ...-the goddess worshipped by everyone in Asia and in all the world. EQ

We know we are the gods now. Back then they likely did not. They were told to believe death is the only salvation. And the goddess says Life. Life is our only salvation. And the War brats have no right to take that away. And sell eternity to us in plastic lies.

No thanks.

Jesus loves the goddess. And she is not an old bitch up in heaven on a thrown. She the little bitch that drives you made. I know. Look what mine is making me do. And later she can say she didn't do anything.

If she wants to continue being a little bitch.

Then I will dance some more for the little bitch.

And if I don't get to nail her on my fountain of youth this life. Well, I'll lay down and die and wonder how many kids are gonna wanna be me. And I'll jump up and scream.

"You can't kill me, mother killers. I am a messiah for the goddess, the snake and the fish."

And before I let you fuckers, dry fuckers, nail me to your high speed plastic cross, I'll call a billion angels to remove you validity.

Then you'll stand around talking in tongue never to make it to the story again.

"Do you know, back on earth, they used to have War."

"War. What's war."

"Where's Earth."

What day is it. Year. 2000 from anywhere. It's one of the nice things they did.

"How long since you were born in that house in Bethlehem."

"What is the date AD."

Funny, telling someone who is a friend, hey, I just figured out by writing the new new testament. And many angels helping me.

I'm your old, Dad, remember in the Toscana when we played wild animals. And the grown ups let you do as you pleased.

"Now look at them."

Now they are waking up and seeing that the holy family of Christ is a bunch of drunks and potheads. And we're the fuckin' gods. Like anyone who wakes up.

Heavens. Any Idiot can be president of US of any Empire of War and Plunder. It takes a little creativity to be a messiah.

But it is open to anyone. Jesus wasn't one. The guy with his story of his family in Heaven.

And their going to like it. So don't try believing your lazy old dad. He's thinking of a way to make it clear.

And you may decide to laugh. You may decide to cry.
Poke you finger in your nose or in your eye.
Laugh at yourself, it's the best trick I know.
You're a smart boy, we always have room to grow.

That about does it. If you write, this story will continue. If not, we go out for an ice-cream. Talk about 1967 Ford Mustang.

Write you Father

letter from me son 01