Cypher Content Creation and Code Break

a marathon week of activities built around one lie and a huge fraud. and i am stunned into no words, but not stunned. i am just flabbergasted as to how , when and where that kind of behavior became the norm and accepted/. I am amazed at the daftness of people to carry along the lie. because the signs are so many.

the world really is about the devolving of things. everything

all the things that were the most valued and valuable, to lose their currency, to become meaningless, garbage and the opposite. for things that make no sense, to be the pinnacle of knowledge and wisdom. the things that were the most highly coveted and unattainable now any manicou and rat can access it without passes, against gatekeepers. and the quality of these things were uncomparable*, uniformly high..now. there are a range of variations from same knockoffs to charlatan flim flams. it is like leather. once upon a time, leather was only lamb leather. now folk sell leather lining and animal stomach as leather goods, items and products.

that is what i mean, everything watered down to nothing

and water is privatized to the elite rich, so you will die of thirst., both for the need of that thing you seek to glorify and be glorified as, and the very thing denied to you as you, unworthy. the thing that by your very wanting it. means nothing

doctorbossfraud

good morning

i wake up panning my brain, beating my brain as if it were a drum i was fixing, firing, curing, tuning and beating into a pan. a musical instrument. about how can i fix my life. i came home last night after a family friends fraternity party, disgusted. people are so cowardly.. people are so superficial. people are such simpletons. they deduce everything complex into their insipid banal common denominators whether it fits or not. and this is smart and dumb people. telling an old friend of being unemployed for a long time and how in 2013 i did organic farming, she shouts out "oh, that is it, you bowed out, took a break" and i did not even bat an eye to tell her. no. that is not how it was, that was the response not the stimulus. but my brain kept on talking, while it monitored, stored captured, and filmed her, the response, the thinking behind it and a disgust of how can i ever talk to these creatures . and it was happening right through. from doing decor to conversations, to watching crazy people mix drinks, I was the bartender, until things got out of hand, me and my man cousin handyman steve.

i kept on seeing things that others would miss.

like the guy who was the friend of my dj cousin who despite being at a high end garden party, in the back yard of a house with three bathrooms, one in the carport, kept on going to pee on the back wall. and the two children of that house, both adults, one male or female, both refused to instruct the rat that we have bathrooms and things called toilet. meanwhile, he blinged out in that fake gold shit they wear here

i would bring their attention to it, and they would either do nothing or have some amazing alter interpretation of what I saw, they would argue me down , only for them to at some point see my perspective. from placing plants at fountains, to making baby bakes and buljol and pureeing the tomato and onions..to a younger cousin daughter of an alcoholic family member, who i saw , came very late, introduced her self in the bar, proceeded to mix drinks as if the alcohol was water, and then made someone a drink of black and white whisky and vodka with a little bit of cranberry juice. in a huge cup.. that was the pinnacle after i sat watching her literally turn over alcoholic bottles to mix drinks, no portions, no balance. not for taste. just half the glass. alcohol. first. then ice, and a touch of chaser. after showing my co-bartender, and two other cousins what i was observing, that whisky and vodka mixture. but i sat back to watch, luckily a cousin showed up and i told her to check it.. the drink was for her friend.

now i was amazed. cause who drinks and knows you dont mix drinks? why would you be mixing drinks like that? and i assessed, her father's alcoholism has impacted her. cause the first drink i saw her made of half glass likker* was for her. white rum,. this chick is a stunning beautiful rail of a thing, the height of a reds who aint red. she like vanilla cream, and though i have seen her drink before never saw her mixed. i let it go was prepared to do so as that is her preference. but to see her do the same to others requesting drinks... i had no choice but to see that behavior as diabolical. cause what you trying to do? fuck up other people? waste alcohol, and when you are told about it, you are not given to shock or concern or either to learn how to do it properly, then why are you behind the bar?. no one agrees what she was doing was fucked up, they merely says she does not know...then why are you behind the fkg bar...so it is this endless stupidity and enabling of all i cant contend. that brought me home silenced. and wracking my brain

how to fix my life.

how to save myself

how to release myself of the level and depth of retardation I am surrounded. i need a calgon to take me out, up and away, permanently

and i came up with something.

a tv show.

first I thought of what and who life coach exists, so exemplary that could help me map my life out of this entanglement. then i sat thinking, of my cv and resume and wish I could have someone tell me what is embedded there that has not brought me the results I expected. what do people see? what is going on? some shit is definitely afoot. there is something peculiar about me, my life, my circumstances, my history, my experiences. my path. and i wish to discern it if nothing else, alter it definitely and if not that,, at least commercialize it for my function and use. I have to break this cycle.

then i thought a tv show.

of me presenting everything in a slow easy, methodical pattern.

that each episode saturate the media for a week. and on youtube, archived. streamed. and so i build the story. a show of me doing all the varied things I do, even art. a silent episode where i show how i paint or draw. and see what comes out. but also a show that deconstructs and presents my pieces...that too is a peculiar oddity- my artwork.

i thought to have the citizens and viewing public call in and participate to see what they see. might even have community shows or national panels on the subject. and you know what it is doing...teaching the public to think, problem solve, deconstruct, pull things apart, put them back together.

a show of my life. talk about reality. where i am filmed of everything daily, where i present everything. where i get houses, homes, gardens, places to film, engage the viewers, do things, vehicles, makeovers, entities like businesses, indulgence to explore business ideas, and endless sponsors. the show can maybe even be global...where i travel to the US, Africa, on different missions, all part of the same series.

valuable content for a purpose beyond itself.

so then i started asking myself who are among the biggest most prolific, powerful effective executive and media producers in the country. who can i pitch this idea to? who can see this as potential, who can make this happen.

i think i been up since 8:47

i dont plan to go anywhere for a few days.

I dont want to see anyone.

trying to think of how to free us all who are locked into this dynamic with me in my life and living

and how to garner the sponsors, big enough to gain everyone's attention.

my ankles are swollen, one more than the other, from the broken leg one, from being on my feet nonstop since wednesday, yet, I dream of being in, running and owning a restaurant and bar. and it is incongruities like that i see that boggles my mind. I have dreams and yearnings, I say, that dont work with my make up and beingness, being hood, and i want to determine which part is false...and moreso, what is true.

who

who is capable of making all this?

happen?

DearMDiary

 

 

 

DearMDiary,

her personal journal left the books and volumes to virtual facebook.

signs of a child truly free and without conditions and restrictions.

Is a sign of early onset diabetes. serious niggeritis after a meal? and does it come having fasted all day? Or unknown to her, was she drained from two days of laundry, clapbacks, putting old folks in place.

Is the choke at karaoke due to the too much menthols

She decided tonight that she will live to 104/ See her children into their fifties. And this is the time to end all things...the liming with deadbeats, smoking, and drinking too much.

She is wondering again if that over indulgence into drinking and alcohol in trinidad is connected to the epidemic incidences of diabetes too, and not just the obesity and food. that hit her thinking of her cousin Nigel being diagnosed oh so many decades ago, in his twenties even

She thinks this time of change is a conflux of events she cant even name. But out of the blue phone calls telling her of American black bankers who are looking for solutions and bridges that she has been building and constructing for the last two years. Waiting for a willing ear. And in the same call hearing about old associates who have lobbed off into her area, of forty three acres plus of organic agriculture.

Being at an awards event for agriculture and getting the hankering that she really ought be planted in that field. And ever the question, how did a nyc brooklyn girl ever find her way into soil, animals, plants, food, poverty and development? but here she is, and almost as if there is not much else that is more her, except maybe cooking, cheffing, arting, innovating, painting, artisting. ArtShramming

Taking the risk of burning bridges of tattered ropes that arnt taking you anywhere, all their and value from a time past, generations gone by, and at birth at best...nothing to take you forward

Listening to talk radio transporting in a car and TDJakes sermon comes on the: the one about people and camps and whether they compete, complete or compliment you. And she got smashed. Transported back to the pews of St Mark's, Stephens' ...and the endless notes of sermons. But something happened in her story when she heard it referenced that it was at thirty when Jesus was sabotaged. And in her memory bank, she started counting: "when was it exactly, what age was I when sandra batie launched her attack to shoot my climbing career that was like an aurora?"

IT sure did seem like thirty. Then Jakes talked again of Jesus at thirty eight..She forgets now what was the synchronicity, the events, the mirror but that was significant too: was it a coming out? a going in? Maybe it was merely the mention of a year in her life that was a watershed, shift, close and opening all at the same time.

But she feels it is time to stop being so damn subversive. what is the point and value, enjoyment or return of being around no one who neither completes or compliments. Time to end the competition parade.

If the mirror is accurate and clear. is she really in thirty years of preparation for ministry? And will be like that Chinese old eighty years guy she wants to marry. She being in her church at sixty, perhaps completed, at sixty eight.

MDiary: why do faces appear to her like a photo gallery in her closed eyes? Who are those people? She just saw one that brought a message. But as I try to related what I observed, I have no language. I just heard her ask, who was that? Who are these people? When and what juncture should i call in for help and backup?""While i write i was searching for that sermon, it is not coming up. It was fascinating. Folk will hate you jakes said when you pull away from their camp. they dont want nary one of y'all to be free...and how dare you

So here now she is in the land of real live human voodoo dolls.

The murti said to be and negated washed ashore, brings that clear as day to the mind open and thinking...It looks just like any one of those many bodies found floating, hogtied in the nation';s water. Limbs and torso pierced, destroyed and paralyzed in strategic places: the left ankle, the right thigh, and point blank in the end of spine/anus. What is their mission? What is the strived for mission.

She heard of her cousin Krissons being sanitized in life and very out of touch with much from the ground...and she wistfully veered off into review...that used to be her..and how she wish her life could be as clean again.

dear mdiary, she is coming down the hall. tear the age out and turn off the lights.

DNA Changes

 

 

neck pain's spiritual purpose and mission of language

and its consistency, twice, in a life?

a question for the next qualified reader/seer I meet

what if the five morrocoys i was to get from 2011 are not turtles themselves but perhaps, five persons moving like turtles. in that case, i think i can almost name all of them. if not most. and if not name them. there are five areas, corners, situations, facets of my life that nee fixing. wealthealth. productivity. employment. love/mating and children/raising/teaching. and who can deny they have all snailed dragging along all these years.

i wake up thinking if someone else asks me why am i not in mississippi i will say cause there was never anything there for me, in that barren place, but it took the flight to know it. if there was anything for me there, ever at all, i would be. i would have known all/ i only talk about it still cause i am astounded at the lies, as if i never would have reached there to see for myself, but i guess that cretin thought I was so bad off I would accept anything. little does he and his total condition makes the bun bun burnt pot bottom of my life, ever. in fact, there wasnt even a pot. just an empty filthy untouched house with windows. i scorn to think the condition he would live in if he thought that house was clean. anyway, moving on. i have no idea why the runt is still here, i guess to read my posts, so here, read about your trifling self showing all the tiredness of every last one of your ancestors.

it has been a weird few days. i see it in my dreams. bizarre dynamics/ like links that are alive, and blue and turn into people. or something so.

then i had such a heavy cry in public talking to supposed friends, and i realized i was crying close to wanting to sob because i could feel the weight of my whole life, and more than that, I am stunned to accept how much of it all i have kept in, silence, holding, carrying. and it was thirty years ago that graham used to tell me "empty your cup, melise" far less for all that has been added to it in the thirtty years since, is just mindblowing. that i have managed to keep it together, and it was like spiritually i felt i was on a tightrope with a bulging jihaji bundle. like from cartoons from the 1930s. carrying a house wrapped into a cloth tied by its edges.

i know what i want and need does not exist...someone deep, smart, strong, resilient, competent, empathic, compassionate, resourceful and wide shouldered, barreled torso enough for me to sob these stories out for freedom

I am also clear on so much I am to do right now. But it would seem almost all i need to do , i dont have the space to do. at the most banal, i need to clear and clean my closets and space. but exactly what I need to throw away is what i now wear.

I need to be in the bush. last night i realized I needed to wrap my neck around my poui tree outside, i need to let nature purify me of all that has its claim, and reconstitute me touch free

i thought to sit under a pure river waterfall and let the rush beat my shoulders and neck into a submission of reception

gosh. i am saving the most and worse and greatest needful for the last, and even some of them are trying to elude me...i need to remove myself from the people i am around. every single one almost.

i keep being formed and reformed peculiar and yet still not moving away from the environments and mentalities that have no space for me to spread my wings. from family, friends, relatives, associates. all.

the eagle trying to make life among the chickens and in the chicken coop, as if the earth ground was not bad enough

the fact that a being comes with so much and tools and uses almost none of it, that frustration. also a facet that needs to end. but as I sat at a table last night and watched from a distance, a group of adults, two with grandchildren, argue long, hard, and rowdy about which beer was better, stag or carib. and all i could think of watching these people was, which one of you all own either? but could not . as I played out in my head how serious and grave I would have said it, so the music would stop abruptly and everyone thrown out on their tail. that kind of dynamic, separation and juxtaposition is my life

and all i am writing now i feel i am still missing my initial intention of this post. i am not getting to the meat of the matter. not speaking the pictures i saw in my dreams this morning. they are lost to me now it seems. i just know it was mystical , magickal, supernatural, cosmic/

the body alters// dna changes  

"Ant Bites" 2016 Sept Full Moon Edition

having another episode of 'ant bites'

weird incidences that make no sense, only seem to happen to me.

in the range of alter and bizarre.

was wondering how and if to write about this

but i dont think things are accidental

when we do it is merely knowledge and circumstances, or actions we are not aware. might even be in the realm of what cannot be explained in this dimension

but

who goes for food on a sunday

in their home

and dishing out food, opening containers, and only realizing that a chicken dish cover is covered and teeming with ants

and once again, as my first ant bites in 2004, where i was insect poisoned by twenty three bites, and thinking it was merely the grass and plants that were pricking my legs at night, i was bit on my hands, three times, and never felt a thing until I started itching/scratching the invisible. soon enough the welts appeared

and this is after i threw the cover in the sink of water.

then the chicken piece I dish out was in fact, covered in ants at the bone. someone else with less eyesight would have missed it. just imagine stew chicken the same color of the ants. and my eyesight is bad eh, but in other ways, like laser.

who does this happen to ?

how does this happen?

why me and not the other two people in the house?

the ones who cooked the food?

why me??

now that I have eaten, moved the food, cleaned the ants, washed the dishes, I sit and think to write and remember last night too.

flying insects slamming into me. one was big enough that i thought someone passed and touched me somehow. no one was there.

then later on in the evening, sitting among friends, a flying ant, one of those that come out after rain, flew into my neck. i caught it but not before it bit me, to leave a welt. and my friend asks, 'what going on with you?" brent piper, a gentleman i know just incidentally, breaks out with his very truthful and poignant quip...why would they not come for her, her blood sweet and she not letting go that sweetness, so they must come...what is that saying? they digging it out?" at one moment, crass, another moment, I just had to laugh at how this man has only seen me twice yet, reading me like words on a page

so now i realize, between last night to just now. i am in another season of 'ant bites'/

smh/ what it is?!

WHEW.

deep sigh

Meet the Ancestors

hm.

"can i meet my ancestors without shame"?

this strikes me as so significant. strikes me as such a lofty goal, when truth is, despite acknowledging my ancestors, i see their actions in the land of the living, I see the things they did, the sabotage, what they failed to do. the treachery in some cases, like my brother who told my mother that my college boyfriend was living with us but he wasnt, it was summer, and we would spend a few days or so. guest. i thought i was free to live this life as best as I could see fit or onto my choices, but now...can i face them without shame. so far yes. and much honor for what i have both , accomplished and tried

and such a perplexing presentation/ i met alice once. in atlanta , at some function, i was still in my twenties. telling her of my writing, and something proceeded out of my mouth, or spirit, or from behind me and she literally just walked away. i never knew why, but it is the reason I think i am spirit possessed by my brother. from the time of his death, the same year, mere months later, where i denied him return and was told decades after that he was trying to come back to life and the pod of us. he did not know what it was to be dead.

i also clue into something chase told me in 2013, that i am living and walking with every single ancestor and past life I have ever lived in the cosmos. and those with sense, eyes and powers, can see and feel it, it is why i scare so many so easily. and is one story so far and different from the other. the only proof i have is my art. i realize in the other day that i am a channeling artist. i sit down to do art, and various things come out. but when i am doing freeform and abstract. after the piece is done, endless faces, spirits, beings and entities are shown, from fetuses to animals, to endless human faces, of varying ethnographies and descriptions. there are men with huge beards.

do you even meet your ancestors when they are all walking around with you daily, eclipsing you in life, sometimes? taking over your being and existence? making decisions, taking actions and leaving you to wonder, did i really just say and do that. how?!

 

 

 

BMcFadden's inspiration

Brother Magick

think i had a dream this morning to remind me about magick and miracles. 

 

and that my deceased brother, someone put his corpse on a suspended bed of sorts outside my window, and had him wrapped, i was living on a top floor. i guess i was supposed to be scared, but he looked then, in the dream, after twentynine years, better than he did ten days after his death. and i feel the message was to remember the power of the dead, call on them, they will deliver. i keep trying to remember what i did in that dream, after I saw him but it is not coming to me. it all felt good and positive, though

then i remembered the dream i had last week of the spirit sent over a precipice down to the sea, and when i /we looked over we saw a light lemon colored gold fish, walking on its feather fins, on a lily pad and turning into a bird that had chirped when the spirit was flung over...i wonder what that was...

reincarnation came to mind then and does so now. rebirth, recreation, the sea of yemoja, of fishes, children and the wellbeing of women. then my brother now, i feel if it was true what i was told decades ago that he put a curse on my life because i refused his return to us in this life and pod, that he is reversing it, and bringing all the abundance back to my life and at my feet, and upon my head. i did not know any of these things at the time when they occurred, i was just trying to live through repeated traumas in succession.

I now realize. a drawing i did when i first returned home and always thought it was my brother deceased I had drawn, the view of him in this dream is very much akin to that drawing except for the facial skin erosion on the cheek and cheekbone. my brother had prominent cheekbones

Anthony Huggins Jr.  at his boarding school, they called him Rajah. We called him Junior. and when years after his death and attempted return, I had a dream and the baby i was told of his name was Junia.

It took me decades after to return to Trinidad to learn that is the name here. a real birth name, and pronounced just like Junior..

Sigh

Angels and Their Amazing Blessings

the lesson of july into august is to focus on the good, and totally ignore the bad...

someone wrote in a group: "you mean to tell me nothing good happens to you all...and that made me share this story:

[i will spare all the long details...but just a month ago, six weeks actually, i tried to leave trinidad. traveled to mississippi on a one way ticket to meet an old friend from twenty three years ago. we were supposed to be aligning our resources and capabilities to build empire. I was to live in a house they have unused.
i get there, the house is neither cleaned, put up for someone to live, nor the kitchen functioning...range top for stove gone, washer dryer, gone. dishwasher gone, no microwave. no utensils. nothing
No bed./ nothing nothing nothing.
I was stunned.
Stayed in a hotel they paid for.
was supposed to come back with toiletries for me and never returned.
left money in an envelope for me to get back home and said a return ticket was at the airport.
Well. that return ticket was not paid for.
the counter lady. tells me all of this. and for some reason, I was just cool, calm and collected. despite it all
called my friends, one in colorado, one in a neighboring city.
the latter puts up the money on her credit card for me to return home.
I been wondering how long it would take me to pay her back.
I got a gig last night working as a research asst for a prof at a US college, making US money. so i said I would amass the $400 over the ticket paid and pay my girlfriend back
today she writes me and tells me. a month, six weeks after the fact, no charge shows up on her card.
mind you. the ticket agent. knew the friend who created all this drama. taught her microbiology at jackson state. then my friend who purchased the ticket, taught her art. and I was in the restaurant eating brunch, while this ticket agent allowed her personal cell to be used to call my friends and for them to call me.
the good news of this story... she had booked me on my first ever first class trip. and I used to travel for a living.
yes, we were all amazed that I would get the one ticket agent who knew all these people. but for her to extend herself to me as a stranger. was amazing. there was no end. and it never stopped
access. caring. compassion, sharing.
first class ticket
then it turns out, she did whatever shenanigans for their to be no charge. She probably booked me on one of her free flights
the news today came up about the no charge.
That made my day
my month. my year?
<3 span="">
This lady.
Send her love and blessings in abundance
https://www.facebook.com/courtney.thompsonpaige?fref=ts]



0-----then this is my horoscope for the coming week
 
[Aquarius (January 20-February 19)
Aquarius Horoscope for week of September 8, 2016
These days, my dear, your eccentric beauty is even more unkempt than usual. I like it. It entertains and charms me. And as for your idiosyncratic intelligence: That, too, is messier and cuter and even more interesting than ever before. I'm inclined to encourage you to milk this unruly streak for all its potential. Maybe it will provoke you to experiment in situations where you've been too accepting of the stagnant status quo. And perhaps it will embolden you to look for love and money in more of the right places. ]