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9 min read - Posted 15 May 20

Forward ... to the Hall of the Ancient Martian Wormhole and/or Jim's Gallery

a magnanimous decision ...

I stand here on the brink of what appears to be total destruction; at least of everything I had hoped and dreamed for ... for the last decade in my life which appears literally to span thousands of years if not more in the eyes of some other beholder. I spent several months in Kentucky telling a story of a post apocalyptic and post-cataclysmic delusion; some world where I was walking around in a "fake plane" something like a holodeck built and constructed around me as I "took a walk around the world" to ... it did anything but ease my troubled mind.

Recently a few weeks in Las Vegas, and a similar story; telling as I walked penniless down the streets filled with casino's and anachronistic taxi-cabs ... some kind of vision of the entirety of the heavens or the Earth or the "choir of angels" I think of when I echo the words Elohim and Aesir from mythology ... there with me in one small city in superposition; seeing what was a very well put together and interesting story about a "star port" Nirvane ... a place that could build cities into the face of mountains and half working monorails appearing in the sky---literally right before my eyes.

I suppose this is the place "post cataclysm" though I still have trouble understanding what it is that's actually about ... in my mind it connects to the words "we are losing habeas" echo'ed from the streets of Los Angeles in a more clear and more military voice than usual--as I walked block by block trying to evade a series of events that would eventually somehow connect all the way to the "outskirts of Orlando, Florida" in a place called Alhambra.

Apparently the name of a castle; though I wasn't aware of that until much later.

It doesn't feel at all like a "cataclysm" to me; I see no great rift--only a world filled with silent liars, people who collectively believe themselves to have stolen something--something gigantic--at least that's the best interpretation of the throws and impetus behind the thing that I and mythology together call Jormungandr. With an eye for "mythological connections" you could clearly see that name of the Great Serpent of Revelation connects to something like the Unseelie; the faeries of Gaelic lore. To me though this world seems still somewhat fluid, it's my entire life--moving from Plantation to a place where the whole of it might be Bethlahem and to "clear my throat" it's not hard to see here how that land of "coughs" connects to the Biblical land of Nod and to the "Adamically sieved" Snifleheim ... from just a little twist on the ancient Norse land most probably as close to Hel as anyone ever gets--or so I dream and hope---still today. It all looks so real and so fake at the same time; planned for thousands of generations, the culmination of some grand masterpiece story that certainly ties history and myth and reality into a twisted heap of "one big nothing, one big nothing at all."

I've tried to convey to the world how important I believe this place and this time to be--not by some choice of my own ... but through an understanding of the import of our history and the impact of having it be so obviously tuned and geared towards this specific time ... many thousands of years literally all focused on a single moment, on one day or one hour or even just a few years where all of that gets thrown down on the table as if some trump card has been played--and whether or not you fathom the same magnanimous statement or situation or position ... to me, I think it depends on whether or not you grew up in the same kind of way, believing our history to be so fixed and so difficult to change. I don't particularly feel like that's the "zeitgeist" of today; I feel like the children believe it to be some kind of game, and that it is such as easy thing to "sed" away or switch and turn into something else--another story, another purpose ... anyone's personal fantasy land come true.

I don't think that's the case at all, it's clearly a personal nightmare; and it's clearly one we've seen time and time again--though not myself--the Jesus Christ that is the same yesterday, today; and once again perhaps echoing "no tomorrow" never remembers or believes that we've "seen it all before" or that we've ever really gotten the point; the thing you present to me as "factual reality" is a sickness, it disgusts me; and I'd do anything to go back to the world "where I was so young, and so innocent" and so filled with starry-eyed hope that we were at the foot of something grand and amazing that would become an empire turned republic of the heavens; filling the stars ... with the kind of love for kindness and fairness that I once associated very strongly with the thing I still believe to be the American Spirit.


"Suddenly it changes, violently it changes" ... another song echoes through the ages--like the "words of the prophets dancing ((as light)) through the air" ... and I no longer even have a glimmer of hope that the thing I called the American People still exist; I feel we've been replaced by some broken container of minds, that the sky itself has become corrupt to the point that there's no hope of turning around this thing that I once believed with all my heart and all my mind was so obviously a "designed downward spiral" one that was---again--so obviously something of a joke, intended to be easy to bounce off a false bottom and springboard beyond "escape velocity" and beyond the dark waters of "nearest habitable star systems (being so very far away)" into a place where new words and new ideas would "soar" and "take flight."

Here though; I am filled with a kind of lonely sadness ... staring at what appears to be the same mistake(s) happening over and over again; something I've come to call "skipping stones in the pond of reality" and really do liken it to this thing that appears to be the new meaning of "days" and ... a civilization that spends absolutely no love or lust to enter a once sacred and holy place and tarnish it with their sick beliefs and their disgusting desires. You all ... you appear to be some kind of springboard to "bunt" forth yet another age or era of nothingness into the space between this planet and "none worth reaching" and thank God, out of grasp. Today, I'd condemn the entirety of this world simply for it's lack of "oathkeepers" and understanding of what the once hallowed words of Hippocrates meant to ... to the people charged and dharmically required to heal rather than harm.

It appears the place and time that was once ... at least destined to be the beginning of Heaven ... has become a "recurring stump" of some future unplanned and tarnished by many previous failed efforts and attempts to overcome this same "lack of conversation or care" for what it meant to be "humane" in a world where that was clearly set high aloft and above "humanity" in the place where they--where we were the best nature had to offer, the sanest, the kindest; the shining last best hope.


Today I write almost every day ... secretly thanking "my God" for the disappearance of my tears and the still small but bright hope that "Tearran" will one day connect the Boston Tea Party and the idea that "render to Caesar" and Robin of Loxley ... all have something to do with a re-ordering of society and the worth and import of "money" ... to a place that cares more for freedom from murder than it does ... "freedom from having to allow others to hear me speak." I hold back tears and emotions; not by conscious choice or ability but ... still with that strange kind of lucky awkward smile; and secretly not so far below the surface it's the hope of "a swift death" that ... that really scares me more than the automatons and mechanical responses I see in the faces of many drivers as they pass me on the street--the imagery of connecting it to the serpentine monster of the movie Beetlejuice ... something I just "assume" the world understands and ... doesn't seem to fear (either); as if Churchill had gotten it all wrong and backwards--the only thing you have to fear, is the loss of fear of "loss."


Here my crossroads---halfway between the city my son lives in and the city my parents live in--it's on making a decision on whether I should continue at all, or personally work on some kind of software project I've been writing about, or whether I should focus on writing about a "revolution" in government and society that clearly is ... "somewhat underway." In my mind it's obvious these things are all connected; that the software and the governance and the care of whether or not "Bablyon" is remembered as a city of great laws and great change or a city of demons and depravity ... that these things all hinge and congeal around a change in your hearts; hoping you will chose to be the beginning of a renaissance of "society and civilization" rather than the kings and queens of a sick virtual anarchy ... believing yourselves to have stolen "a throne of God" rather than to literally be the devistasting and demoralizing deprication of "lords and feifdoms" to something more closely resembled by the time of the Four Horsemen depicted in Highlander.

These words intended to be a "forward" to yet another compliment of a ((nother installment of a partial)) chain of emails; whimsically once half-joking ... I called it the Great Chain of Revelation. The software too; part of the great chain, this "idea" that the blockchain revolution will eventually create a distributed and equal governance structure, and a rekindling of monetary value focused on "free and open collaboration" rather than "survival of the most unfit"--something society and civilization seem to have turned the "call of life" from and to ... literally just in the last few years as we were so very close to ... reaching beyond the Heaven(s).

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Adam Marshall Dobrin

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