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From interview with Robert Anton Wilson:
DARE
Are there any existing political systems you admire?
WILSON
Scandinavian socialism. I found the Scandinavians to be about the most admirable people in Europe. clean streets, a low
crime rate, a general air of high civilization - luxuries for all and a total absence of slums, poverty, and ugliness. They
seem very happy and productive, with one of the most way out futurist movements in the world. They're the California of Europe.
I hate to sound like a Marxist, which I'm not, but the reason you haven't heard about Scandinavian Socialism is because
the media of this country is controlled by rich people who are scared shitless of socialism. They want Americans to think
there's only one type of socialism, Soviet Communism, which is the kind of place where dissident scientists get thrown in
lunatic asylums, all of which is true. Americans are paranoid about Russians but Scandinavians regard them with amusement;
they're those backwards people who think that you can only have socialism by putting all the poets and painters in jail. The
Scandinavians reward their poets and they don't put anyone in jail for dissident political opinions.
DARE
Aren't you scared of getting in trouble, of finally saying the one thing you shouldn't have said?
WILSON
We're all living in a world in which one cannot apply one's highest ideals without getting into a lot of trouble. I've
gotten in trouble, but I haven't gone to jail, which shows I may have more common sense than Tim Leary. I certainly don't
claim to be more intelligent than him. He's the most intelligent human being I've ever encountered.
DARE
Do you share his conclusions about LSD?
WILSON
LSD breaks up habitual circuits of the brain. It opens new circuits, breaks down old circuits, and there's no evidence
whatsoever that it destroys brain cells. LSD is very much a metaprogramming device, it changes the basic programs, that's
why it's dangerous. It creates acute paranoid states in bureaucrats who've never used it.
To get the best out of it needs a scientific or religious approach, one or the other. People who are just tripping
for the fun of it are more likely to imprint a whole new reality tunnel or personality on themselves that they weren't looking
for. If you're going to do LSD, you should decide the changes you're aiming at and structure the trip to lead to that kind
of change.
There's no doubt that you can change every part of your personality with LSD, that's why Leary calls it a reimprinting
drug. It changes basic imprints which are much more rigid than conditioning. There's no doubt that I am a different person
than I am before I took it.
I was a statistical materialist before I started experimenting with LSD, that is I didn't believe the laws of the
universe were absolutely deterministic because I knew enough quantum mechanics to know that it broke them down. But I was
still a statistical materialist, everything could be explained by the accidental permutations of little hunks of energy that
solidify into matter. I was perfectly satisfied with that explanation of the universe, and I never realized that I was as
dogmatic about it as any Catholic was about their faith. After LSD impacted on me, I became a total agnostic, and I'm not
dogmatic about anything any more. I know that every system I make up is my own brain making up a system. None of the systems
is big enough to include the whole universe, so all of my beliefs are only relatively true. Some are undoubtedly wrong because
I'm not that brilliant that I never make a mistake.
There are a lot of people who don't realize how conceited they are. By asserting with such certitude the things they
believe in, they don't realize that they're saying "I'm the smartest person in the world, I can answer all the questions."
People like Carl Sagan. I just don't know how he can be so sure of everything when, by and large, the more intelligent you
get, the more you realize you can't be sure of anything.
DARE
What is the next stage in evolution?
WILSON
The model I use is adapted from Leary. The oral-bio-survival circuit is what the amoebas operate on - taste everything.
Babies operate on that too. That's the circuit we go back to whenever we're in danger, and depending on what we imprinted
there, we will either attack or run away.
Then there's Freud's anal circuit, which has to do with claiming territory and status within it. That's when we go
through the mammalian rituals concerning who runs the family, outsmarting our brothers and sisters and trying to run the whole
show, imprinting our domination and submission reflexes. It's why people can hold jobs; their boss becomes a father substitute
and they attach all their reflexes to him.
Next there's the rational circuit in which we do our abstract reasoning with words and mathematics, and the sociosexual
circuit where we imprint the pattern of how we relate to people; with what degree of amity or sexuality. Everybody has a different
imprint, and society has only one general set of rules, so everybody is a heretic as far as that circuit is concerned. Those
four circuits are the natural child, the adoptive child, the adult, and the parent in Berne's system.
Beyond that is the neurosomatic circuit, where, through yoga or drugs or body work like Rolfing, one gimmick or another,
you are able to turn on to your own body in a new way, and instead of just reacting to the conditioned and imprinted programs
on the first four circuits, you are able to relax and go with the flow and enjoy life.
The sixth circuit is the neurogenetic circuit, which has to do with morpho-genetic resonances, coming in contact
with the experience and religious symbols of your ancestors, learning that they've been controlling you below the level of
consciousness all your life. This is what Shamanism traditionally deals with. Jungian psychology was the first attempt to
deal with it scientifically, now we've got dozens of others trying to bring people into harmony with archetypes of the collective
unconscious or genetic heritage.
The next is the metaprogramming circuit, which is learning how the brain can work on the brain, how you can imprint
different identities and reality tunnels as you go along. Before you get to that circuit, you have no idea what true freedom
really is, you're being manipulated all the time whether you know it or not. It's the circuit where you develop true choice.
DARE
How do you get there?
WILSON
If you do a lot of work on the 5th and 6th circuits, the 7th tends to click on. First you get a lot of synchronicities,
meaningful coincidences, accidental reinforcement from your environment, like someone coming by to loan you a book that's
exactly the one you were looking for. Jung found that his patient's dreams had more and more symbols out of Greek and Egyptian
and Hindu mythology as they progressed into that circuit, even without studying them consciously. They pulled them out of
the collective unconscious, which I think is actually the morphogenetic field.
Above that there's the non-local quantum circuit, which is the circuit in which we get true out of body experiences,
cosmic identification with the whole of existence.
We're learning so much about the latter four circuits, which Leary calls the extraterrestrial circuits, that we're
moving into a new stage of evolution. More people are on the fifth circuit than ever before in history, and there are growing
sixth and seventh circuit minorities. It's not an accident. We're changing just as we have to change. These circuits were
there, ready to be used, when we got to this point in evolution. Earlier, mankind could just coast along on the first four
circuits, and only visionaries and mystics and poets ever turned on the higher circuits. Now everyone does it.
DARE
How to you teach people to turn on their higher circuits?
WILSON
You've got to teach with humor to make the pill palatable. Besides, humor is the essence of realizing our true situation
in space and time. We are these tiny fallible beings crawling around on a relatively small planet, and anybody who pontificates
dogmatically about anything is giving evidence that they are an idiot, even if you agree with them. They shouldn't sound that
certain. We think we're so damn smart and we know so fucking little.
new poems:
"Dead Pacifists"
must we be nice
to the parasites
and the virus only doing it's job?
my soul, they allow me to keep
but my life they wish to rob
"How We Forget"
The length of a dawning
of linear time
Shall bounce back the breath
of a yawning divine
Rivers of words, blurring
elongated, wash up abrupt
on the beach of consiousness
As I drift inbetween worlds
Madness winks from a neighboring nook
Mi largo perdido amigo
The familiar, fetal-shaped brain groove
Snuggled, warm, hidden but for dreams
Sleep is sacred
How soon we forget
The power of belief
Imagination's holes
In reality's net
"Tea 'n Turkey"
manic thinking
caffeine's masterplan
settle down
tryptophan
carbon dating
aiding man
history
grains of sand
"Pleading The Fifth (Dimension)"
Outside of time
A true poet gives no pause
To accumulate the disease
Of mortality
The mind will still move
Yet the pen will not scribble
No ripple
Will reach those inside
From Robert Anton Wilson's Ishtar Rising or, Why the Goddess Went to Hell and What to Expect Now That She's Returning:
"Cary Grant was once told, "Every time I see you on the screen, I think, 'I wish I was Cary Grant.'"
He replied, "That's just what I think!"
I've been repeating that story ever since I first heard it, and it never fails to amuse audiences, all of whom seem
to understand it immediately. Everybody groks that Archie Leach, the poor boy from Liverpool who became "Cary Grant"
never fully believed in "Cary Grant," since Cary was, after all, his own invention. On the other hand, here's a
similar story, which I also like to tell, that produces very mixed reactions, with some people laughing and others looking
puzzled or slightly offended.
An art dealer once went to Pablo Picasso and said, "I have a bunch of 'Picasso' canvasses that I was thinking
of buying. Would you look them over and tell me which are real and which are forgeries?" Picasso obligingly began sorting
the paintings into two piles. Then, as the Great Man added one particular picture to the fake pile, the dealer cried, "Wait
a minute, Pablo. That's no forgery. I was visiting you the weekend you painted it." Picasso replied imperturbably, "No
matter. I can fake a Picasso as well as any thief in Europe."
Personally, I find this story not only amusing but profoundly disturbing. It has caused me to think, every time I
finish a piece of writing, "Is this a real Robert Anton Wilson, or did I just fake a Robert Anton Wilson?" Sometimes,
especially with a long novel, I find it impossible to convince myself that I know the answer. After all, as Nietzche said,
"there are no facts, only interpretations"...... "
a song I wrote (long before I read the above):
"What's That Something Else?"
Everything is an interpretation of something else
Everything is an interpretation of something else
Everything is an interpretation of something else
Everything is an interpretation of something else
But what's that something else?
But what's that something else?
But what's that something else?
But what's that something else?
And how can I feel it?
Without becoming it?
And what's that something else?
Where's that something else?
Is it hiddin in the sky or ground?
Or is it inside ourselves?
Everything is an interpretation of something else
But what's that something else?
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Monday, May 24, 2004
Don't you do anything but write songs?
It's A Digital Age
Coming of age in the digital age
You can make out forever
You never have to get up
And turn the record over
Unless the CD skips
Then you have to get up
And you take yr lips
And I miss you already
In the digital age, there's never dust on the needle
You can listen to songs in random order
Appollo 18 by They Might Be Giants
Becomes a different album thanks to science
It's a digital age
Free from yr vinyl cage
(repeat)
Time
Keep me hanging from this ever lengthening rope
Into this pit of darkness, distancing from hope
My eyes have seen the dampening of light inside myself
I was in a hole anyway
So I might as well be in the ground
Finally some peace to speak with God
No distractions, no people around
No blood circling my brain
Driving me out of my mind
Just like when in the womb
Naked, soft, no sense of time
There is nothing to do, just be
There is nothing to feel, hear or see
Forget what these words mean: life and death
What keeps you alive has nothing to do with breath
If we were truly free, "freedom" wouldn't exist
If we were truly free, "we" wouldn't exist
Beautiful Lie
Coughing up blood isn't always fun
When no one's around to watch it spiral down the drain
And I'm afraid if I don't stop destroying myself
I might end up destroying myself
I spoke my final words
One hour after I died
No one was listening by then
And anyway I told a lie
I said, "It's beautiful here
It's peaceful and white
The living are really in Hell
The dead are alive"
Never Falls
I want a girl who smells like Winter
Says hello like Summer
Moves like Spring
And never Falls
Everyday's another season
When happiness is raining from above
8:31 pm pdt
Thursday, May 20, 2004
my friend, Lon, said my website is funny and very not politically correct (in a positive way). i just have one question...what
does "politically correct" mean?
here's my theme song:
broKEN
broKEN's breaking me in two
I'm broken in two over you
I don't know what to do
Half of me likes you and half of me
Wants you to disappear
Half of me wants to live alone in fear
That's too many halves to make one whole
Half of me is stable, half is losing control
So before my other half returns
I want to let you know
That I love you, He hates you
That I love you, He loves no one
I love you, No you don't
I do
He has to break up with friends
Because he doesn't have a lover
He wants to write break up songs
Without venturing in to the fire
I'm more confused than you can possibly be
It could be worse, I could be broken in three
No matter how many there are of me
Half will always love you
My guitar is broken, my voice breaks
My piano's out of tune, my mind leaks
And boils and bakes and cakes on the inside
Of my skull, drowning in a lake of fire
Ken gets hired, broKEN gets fired
Ken gets hired, broKEN gets fired
I repeat I repeat I repeatedly repeat myself
And screw myself out of everything I want
Ken earns the money, broKEN spends it
broKEN abuses, Ken wakes in strange places
broKEN uses all of Ken's faces
Ken tries to hide, but broKEN's inside him
Plotting his next broken, evil deed
Ken doesn't want what broKEN needs
Ken chokes on what broKEN feeds
He's looking half-heartedly for a cure to this disease
But broKEN takes control of the keys
And leads him astray
broKEN mostly comes out at night
Forcing Ken to sleep all day
broKEN is slowly taking over
Forcing Ken and his friends away
I find it hard to understand
Why anyone would like me
I look in the mirror and see a broken man
Waiting there inside me
We wrote this together, sometimes we agree
If broKEN disappeared, would my life become boring?
I'd kill him, but I'd be killing me
I'd embrace him, but he's so ugly
I'd forget him, but he'd remember me
I'd fight him, but he'd beat me
I'd make fun of him, but he'd just laugh at me
Hopefully the weed won't devour the flower
Maybe someday my mind will be mine and not "ours"
No Body
Don't touch my body after I've departed
I'm coming back to finish what I started
Nothing left to write about
Finally satisfied with myself
Don't need nobody
Nobody's coming around
As you get older
The bodies just pile up around
On all sides, forming a tomb
To lay yr body down
The future doesn't bode well for the body
Better look around for yr soul
And make a hole in the tomb
For it to escape, to fly through
Bodies still whisper after the last breath:
"There's nothing worse than death"
10:11 pm pdt
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
2 new songs...i don't make music, i create art art art art arf arf arf ruff ruff ruffrrrrggghh
Do I Have To Spell It Out For You?
F-U-C-K Y-O-U
Y-O-U K-N-O-W
W-H-A-T T-H-A-T
M-E-A-N-S A-N-D
I think you should go
I think you should go
(repeat)
People Are Detours
We make little dents with our protest songs
While they create chasms with their bombs
Let's sing about ourselves instead
While we're still living
Fuck the dead
It's not about getting a wife
It's not about buying a car
It's about how far along the path
You can travel without looking back
People are distractions
People are detours
People are distractions
People are detours
Attractions are distractions
People are detours
Attractions are distractions
People are detours
Get out of my head, conscience
I need a d-d-d-d-duh-date
It's hard to be distracted when yr on drugs
You can focus on the needle like a warm, friendly hug
It's hard to be distracted when yr drunk all the time
When you stare in to the mirror, you are watching time
I cannot handle the wisdom anymore
It makes me want to go through the evil door
I cannot handle the wisdom anymore
It makes me want to go through the evil door
8:23 pm pdt
Sunday, May 2, 2004
kill the rich
Let Go
I don't want to die in yr arms
My soul won't want to leave
I don't want to die in love with you
Don't want to stick around and haunt you
The memories are good
But I have mystery awaiting me
So get away, because I'm going away
I have to be free to be set free
Alone is the only way to die
Just walk away, leave, goodbye
Twister
You're like a memory of something I never had
Right hand, blue means nothing to you
Left foot green means nothing to me
You don't want to play wih me
Don't want to touch me, even accidentally
I can't play this game alone
But do know one that I can
Put a bullet in, spin it
It's a game of chance
The bottle in my hand will soon be empty
But nobody's spinning it to kiss
The lack of a person to play with is rough
Nothing in a bottle is strong enough
To take away the hurt, to erase the past
The content can dull, but never last
You're like a memoy of something I never had
Don't you want to stand inside the eye of the storm that is me?
It's when you drift that you risk getting hit by debris
What a world, I sometimes wish it would melt away
Sore loser in the games we play
Twisted thoughts on display
You're like a memory of something I never had
Chop
Self-operated guillotine
Is just a conversation piece
Don't go losing yr head
Don't cut it off to spite yr body
Don't cut out yr heart despite the lack of love
You know you need nobody to rise above
People get pregnant for a reason
And the reason is stupidity
Cut the mistakes from yr life
Selfish people need to be free
Construct a dam to block unwelcomed thoughts
Yr mouth can't afford the words you bought
Cut out yr tongue before you speak yr mind
Chop off yr feet before you leave yr love behind
From young to old
From hot to cold
From empty to stuffed
You found a space for me
Above yr fireplace is where I'll be
I have an indestructible heart
Crash test dummie girlfriend, give it a jumpstart
Feed The Rich To The Poor
Why must my hands always ache?
If I thought about it, I'd jump in a lake
Also, why must my back break?
I could kill the rich
Would that be a mistake?
The wealthy are hollow inside
They have no hearts, nothing soft, they don't bleed
Are they clueless or just fake?
Their lives are like icing on a dirty cake
chorus: Robin Hood was on the right track track track
Kill the rich and feed 'em to the poor as a snack snack snack
I wouldn't mind putting my foot in my mouth
If it tasted like a donut
Too unfortunate I don't do the things I say
Maybe the less stable will run with it
Hopefully there will come a day
When all of their smirking faces will be burning
I pray there's a place for Bob Eubanks
I pray there's a place for Dick Clark
To Burn Burn Burn
I wouldn't piss on them to save them
Wouldn't shit on them to smother
But I will kidnap their children
And I will bury their mothers
Alive Alive Alive!
chorus
3:45 pm pdt
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