Log's Blog

FRI. 13TH ZOMBIE VALENTINE'S DAY PARTY!!!

joanofart — Tue, 10 Feb 2009 00:48:39 GMT

The Grotesque Burlesque, a Friday the 13th salon style event at the Gemini Manor in Hollywood. This is a 'Save Gemini Manor' fundraising event some come out and show some serious heart. Gemini Manor, a funky and eccentric many roomed manor house in Hollywood, has been host to numerous Burning Man parties, art salons and fundraising events. It's currently threatened with extinction since caring for a partner suffering from cancer has keep Alex too busy to keep up financially. So now's the time to give him some of that good old heart chakra energy in return and have a blast doing it. So come get fabulously grotesque for this most hilarious Friday the 13th Zombie Valentine’s Day Party!!! The Grotesque Burlesque will be featuring: A Zombie Fashion Show Sick costume prizes for best Victorian Gothic, My Bloody Valentine and Zombie Burlesque. The Bad Babysitter Project Acid Jazz Piano Lounge & MAD performance art Shamaniacal alien high priestess Log resurrected from the dead Insects vs Robots – sickadelic portal to zombie ecstasy The Astrology Dating Game In house special FX artists to gore you up and style you out. Organic munchies and sweets along with dispensary-grade edibles and aphrodisiacs. The Reading Room- Sexy astrological whatnot with an astrology dating game throughout the night. So get your astro lowdowns, single person or couples readings using Sextrology and Synastry astrology. Lilith will also be doing featuring readings from the Erotic Tarot So Let us break it down for you, relationship wise as we are… Sick Costume Prizes The first prize for best Zombie Burlesque will win an original creation by Special FX artist UltraKarl, a hand sculpted Zombie Trophy will go to the most believable brain muncher. Also have prizes like hand tailored pirate gear, a designer Victorian Gothic bustle skirt from High d High's for the best audience voted costumes in these Costume Categories: -Zombie Burlesque for the raciest reanimator. -Gothic Victorian for the undead ladies and gents in the house. -My Bloody Valentine goes to the goriest girl or guy. -Killer Klown for the creepy factor clowns cuz clowns are just are freaky… There will be a draw for door prizes as well. $10 for costumed creatures and 20 bucks if you're not trying. Or give Gemini Manor some serious loving, get a 6 month membership to all events at the house for a mere $35 and you’ll also gain entry to the famous member’s only Magicians lair ‘The Magic Castle’ and check out the tricks for free. In Hollywood on Friday the 13th 9pm - ? GEMINI MANOR 1341 N. Mariposa Ave, Hollywood, CA 90027-5809 (1 Blk. East of Normandie Ave., 1/2 Blk. South of Sunset Blvd.) (323) 666 - 7888 for info/Alex/Gemini Manor contact or email Lilith at curiouscat6@yahoo.com Want to view some pics of the Gemini Manor? Check out these links for some visuals: www.ambassadorlocations.com/imag...2.JPG www.ambassadorlocations.com/Manor11.htm www.ambassadorlocations.com/Manor10.htm mermaid pool view

Dissolution of the Old Word

joanofart — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 06:37:40 GMT

I am a Hathor and so I particularly feel the resonance of this channeled message from the Hathors, a race from Sirius B. In this message we wish to give you some specifics regarding the financial and earth changes that are now upon you. We had hinted at the probability of this in previous planetary messages, but now the probabilities have become realities. The main focus of our intent for this communication appears toward the end when we will share what we feel you can do, individually, to ride the storm. The Current Financial Crisis Those who have created/sustained the dominant planetary economic system are now finding themselves with their “backs against the wall.” This is because the system, as it exists, is not self-sustaining. It is a form of imprisonment and is not in attunement with the shifting frequencies of consciousness that are taking place (albeit embryonically) on earth. And so financial institutions are attempting to re-organize themselves. But this is an attempt to perpetuate that which cannot be sustained. They are simply trying to re-arrange cards in the House of Cards. But their attempts will ultimately be futile. This is because the current economic system is based upon greed, lies, control, and manipulation, and these thought forms, these cultural paradigms, are not in alignment with the new consciousness that is arising. What you are witnessing is the dissolution of that which needs to pass away, but that which will take its place has not arisen, and so it is a very frightening passage for those marooned in 3-Dimensional reality. The financial situation is complex and interconnected. The difficulties currently experienced in both the United States and England will affect the entire global economy. These will be difficult times in terms of monetary considerations, but paradoxically these can be extraordinarily uplifting times spiritually. We anticipate further deterioration of the financial markets in the United States, Europe and Asia. The corporate structures responsible for perpetuating the dominant economic paradigms will find themselves on very flimsy ground. This will unquestionably result in the loss of jobs, real income, and an increase of suffering for individuals. Our advice is get to know your community, your immediate surrounding community, because as the system implodes, it will be local relationships that matter. Another element that makes this period particularly volatile is that your perception of time is changing. Culturally perceived time is speeding up and more seems to be happening in less time. This is occurring both for individuals and for the culture as a whole. This rapid movement and changing of events shall become faster and faster. You are entering a relentless pace in which your perception of time will increasingly accelerate. Because your perception of time is speeding up, and the events within those timeframes are increasing in number, many will enter a kind of shock, a state of disbelief. Specifically, it is unimaginable that the economic system can deteriorate so rapidly! What do you do when money is scarce and the things you are used to in your life are hard to acquire? These are critical questions. Collective humanity is at a pivotal point for it is at the cusp of new cultural paradigms — a shifting from fixation on 3-Dimensional reality into a realization of higher dimensions and the possibilities that will be open to all as a result. While such a shift of cultural awareness sounds inviting, the actual process is extremely chaotic, which is what you are now in the midst of. Factors of Novelty As chaos increases, over the next several years, you can expect to see radical increases in what could be described as factors of novelty. By novelty, we are referring to a concept borrowed from your physics. We are not using the term as it is used in your mainstream culture, which is essentially the mindless pursuit of that which is new and different to fill in the void created by emotional desperation and emptiness. Novelty, as we are using the term, refers to unintentional and unanticipated changes within a system. These changes can be positive, negative or both. The term, factors of novelty, refers to the phenomenon that incidents of novelty exponentially increase as systems enter into a state of chaos. And the probability for chaos increases when you have many different systems interacting at accelerated rates. Unexpected results and situations, that were never anticipated or intended, can and will arise. As novelty increases worldwide, it will create mental and emotional strain for many individuals — primarily due to the fact that the paradigms that they have used to navigate through life will be (and are) dissolving right before them. As difficult as these times are, and as difficult as they will be in the near future, there is an evolutionary catalyst within all of this. New ways of thinking and new ways of generating resources have to be created if humanity is to survive. The old ways simply cannot continue. This is because they are not self-sustaining; they are intrinsically damaging to life; they are based upon lies and manipulation, and they are out of alignment with the new spiritual energies that are entering the scene. Nevertheless, those who have created and sustained the lies are doing everything in their power to keep the House of Cards intact. Your evolutionary opportunity in all of this is to pass through the storm by living (metaphorically speaking) in the center of the hurricane — the eye of the storm — where it is calm. We will offer some suggestions for this in a moment, but let us turn our attention to the Earth Changes, for they are upon you. In previous communications we said that the melting of the polar icecaps and the glaciers would accelerate faster than scientists anticipated, and indeed, this is the case. This shall continue to accelerate and the models of weather generated by computers will not accurately predict the changes. Like everything else upon your earth, all changes shall accelerate. From our perspective we see an increase in the intensity of hurricanes, and we see them arising in times when they do not traditionally occur. There will be an increase in tornados and aberrant weather. Alterations in the cycle of the seasons (where fall and winter patterns occur in spring and summer and vice versa) will continue to escalate. Plants and animals that have based their life rhythms upon these seasons shall be increasingly confused. Due to these and other climatic changes (as well as earthquake and volcanic activity), we anticipate increasing food and water shortages over the next two decades. Another critical element in this evolutionary stew is the upcoming Presidential elections in the US. For better or worse this Office affects not just the United States, but also the entire world, and while there are differences between the two camps, in some fundamental areas they are the same. Those who pursue the Office (from within the ranks of the two major political parties) may indeed have their personal visions of what America and the world can be, but they are like pawns on a chessboard, and the ones who move the pawns are largely unseen. Unfortunately, their agenda is not the health and wellbeing of the United States, nor of the world. Their agenda is the consolidation of power. And the confinement and imprisonment of the human spirit that results from their blind pursuit of earthly power does not concern them. An unprecedented collision of forces is now upon you. The economic and political situations, conjoined with earth changes are creating a crack in the façade. This façade is nothing less than the cultural, economic, political, and religious illusions and delusions that people have “bought into.” More and more individuals will see through the lies, simply because things will fall apart. The curtains that were hiding the lies will fall. This is not a graceful process. But the old ways of being and doing must come to an end, in order that new ways can take root. It shall be increasingly difficult to perpetuate the old world in the same ways it has been perpetuated. And by this we mean both the old world of your civilization and the old world of your own personal lives. As the wave of spiritual evolution accelerates, those who insist upon living in the old paradigms will find it increasingly difficult. Fear and paranoia will be the tone of the day, from the minutest aspects of personal life to international relations. This “tug of war” between that which wishes to remain locked in place, tugging against those forces that wish to open the world to new possibilities shall indeed become a surrealistic experience. The evolutionary pressures upon individuals and society are extraordinary, and those individuals who are less centered (psychologically imbalanced) may experience an increase in irrational behaviors. Many countries around the world are already seeing a rise in irrational acts and unusual crimes. Escape Velocity We have spoken about it on numerous occasions, and although it is very simple, it is a powerful ally. Your word for it is appreciation and what we mean by this is the ability to appreciate the smallest things in your life as well as the large things. Appreciation is a fascinating vibrational field with multiple effects. As you watch your economic system go through its metamorphosis, as you watch earth changes increasing and the stresses upon those around you escalating, including the escalation of stress on yourself, remember the doorway of appreciation. All you have to do is step into this field and the disturbances around you will be less able to effect you negatively. The situations you are dealing with might not change, but your emotional response to them will be of a higher order. And you will be more resourceful in how you deal with the challenges you are facing. Were we to describe, in detail, the probable future in terms of negative events, it would be overwhelming. That is not our intent, and so we will not discuss it. What we wish to discuss is escape velocity. How do you escape the negative, imprisoning forces that continue to confine you and the human spirit? The most efficient and simple way is to cultivate appreciation — as ridiculous as that may sound in the face of the immense challenges facing your earth. Appreciation is a key that will unlock the doorway to the new world, even as the old world dissolves and falls apart, as it must. As the spiritually driven evolutionary forces increase, and the rip in the fabric of your civilization becomes clear to more and more individuals, there will be a tendency for those who are fixated on 3Dimensional reality (without access to the higher dimensions of themselves) to enter into a state of mental and emotional shock, a kind of numbness. You can recognize these numb people because they will walk and talk like normal, but they are like zombies, half aware, half alive. Have compassion for these individuals because they are caught between the old world that is passing away and an uncertain future that has yet to be born. Have compassion, yet be wary of them. Do not let them seduce you into their numbness and fear. If you learn to live in appreciation, you will enter a domain, a vibration that will carry you through the chaos of these times. You will find a type of solace and comfort, and the vibrational rate of your energy body will increase. At some point you will reach what we call escape velocity. You will easily step out of the illusions and the lies of the old world. You will see them for what they are, and you will become a joyous co-creator of a new world that is being birthed even as the old world passes away right before your eyes. The Hathors through Tom Kenyon September 22, 2008 Orcas Island, WA

CLOWN THE VOTE!! The Revolution has begun!!!!!!

joanofart — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 21:45:15 GMT

******************THE MADDENING******************* Here ye Here ye!!! Calling all SHAMANIACS! CIRCUS FREAKS! METAPROGRAMMERS! ZOMBIE CLOWNS! “ANONYMOUS” POSSE! MUSICIANS! SEAMSTRESSES! LUNATICS! HORNERY (F)ARTISTS! THE FAKE REVOLUTION HAS OFFICIALLY BEGUN! We will no longer wait for some fake elected "AMERIKKKAN OFFICIAL" to liberate us. We hereby TRANSFORM OURSELVES into our own superheros and heroines, liberating ourselves NOW from the track lit tomb of bureaucrappic politics. Do we want to spend our precious energy revolting against a system that’s designed to crush our very resistance, or do we want another alternative altogether? I’d rather party down during the apocalypse then spend my life force playing by someone else’s rules in a game I bound to lose! Election Day is fast approaching, and we want to make a cosmikataclysmic statement this year. The puppets in charge are just that- puppets. They are put there to give us the illusion of free will and a choice. This somehow placates people into thinking if they just cast their vote, they are playing their obligatory cultural part in the grand political play. Why would we dain to participate in the grandest puppet show of all time? (Can you say, “Illuminaughty, Oil Tycoon, Corporation, and Freemason?”) Because we’ve been programmed to think that somehow our vote makes a difference. While this may be true to some small degree, more and more- voting machines are becoming rigged by the Republicans, and the popular vote doesn’t amount to dog dookie. Corporations have more rights than individual citizens. If you think that a 2 party system is any kind of choice, the fake revolution is here to prove you wrong. If voting changed anything, it would be illegal. We don’t not support you getting out there to vote, but we do hope that at the very least, you’ll go in costume to show your support for alternative freedom not dependent on our two spoon-fed choices and the linear, rational, anti-intelligence of modern man’s monotony. Crimes against monotony! Always! I vote for a giant army of anonymous clowns, costumed superheros, and massive zombie walks to the polls with creative protest signs and props. Anarcho-political street theatre (with props!) videotaped and photographed in L.A., New York, San Francisco, Tucson, AZ, and anywhere else our agents of chaos spring up and call the troops into action. We already have our agents stationed in these major cities, so if you would like to participate on Election Day, send a quick note of inquiry to the contact below with your city, and we will disclose the various locales closer to the date. We are presently coagulating this vision, so if you have any artistic and organizational ideas, please feel free to share. And please! Pass this invite along! We are still looking for other art generals who can push the red button on their collective group factions and promote the fake revolution. Recruits are always welcome. Why FAKE revolution, you ask? REAL REVOLUTION is possible only against REAL GOVERNMENT. Unfortunately, we have only SPIN, WAR ADDICTION, and SHAM LEADERS that pretend to have our best interests at heart. Besides Amerikkka, you are far too lazy, fearful and narcissistic to face up to the gooey mass of lies you have eaten. THE FAKE REVOLUTION is here to make you PUKE them UP! This revolution in consciousness is more real than the “real” revolution, which consists of civil war and lots of gunshots. We don’t want to die for our beliefs, thank you very much. MARTYRDUMB- and we’re far too smart. WE REVOLUTIONARIES dumb ourselves UP!!----- With half-crocked fairy princess alligator costumes and demonic security guard uniforms. We are the not-so-secret agents of CHAOS and INSPIRATION blowing the hot breath of MAGICK in the face of a sleeping population, stirring them for an ETERNAL, psychoiridescent instant, from the NIGHTMARE OF HISTORY. ‘Cause this sucker’s coming down, and we pretend it’s not, but make no mistake- this civilization is coming down. We will dress it up and party it down, with singing and dancing and laughing and crying and making out in public all decked out like the funny animals we know we really are. And when did the masquerade begin? We don’t know. And when will it end? We really can’t say. This is the climax of our species. The eschaton has arrived; there are few chances left to make right what has become so wrong. Lethal mind control weapons and the blending of the police and military go into action in the next couple years, so this may be our last chance to battle publically in a way that shakes this shitty country up by its malevolent roots without having the feds on our asses. We will be employing a strict regime of costumed anti-camouflage as far as the “I” can see. Costume is your PSYCHIC ARMOR and is an INDISPENSABLE part of fooling the pigs into thinking we’re just some innocent freaks out for a few laughs. In the trenches of peoples’ minds, you must become a mutant mole of flying flu holes and hizzy wishing wells. In the hard shells of their so-called hearts, you must float like a guppy and suck away all the accumulated goop. In the crevices of their souls you must become a beacon of fake truth in the place where real hope use to reside. Inside this intergalactic battalion of flying donkies and fearless clowns, we will achieve salvation- if only for a moment or two. The 100th Monkey Effect is bound to make magic happen from the concentrated application of our wills during these chaotic yet magically synchronistic times. Be expecting more novelty in the immediate future….it starts with you. The War on Terror is a FAKE. The Real Fake War is the War on Anxiety- Anxiety that Keeps us paralyzed from Feeling like we can DO, BE and WEAR exactly what we want, when we want. So bust out your body paints and throw on a chicken hat. No one will remember the nightmare of history when we all look so stupid fabulous, and believe me, we will all be craving a hearty dose of forgetting soon. “Resistance is feudal. Join the art army of evil bunny dictators and self-elected space pharaohs today!” –Joan o’ fArt I’d like to give you a personal account about the necessity of costume as psychic armor. For a long time, I attracted feds and security guards like flies to honey. They could smell my anti-authority streak and went right for my throat. Of course the fairies love me and I was always able to smooth talk my way out of these situations or otherwise escape. However, when I started wearing costume, something amazing occurred. The cops started to like me. In fact, they thought I was so cute they started taking pictures of me and with me, and not mugshots either. My intuition about the necessity of costume was proved correct, as I found a way to completely throw the trail off of my malicious intent and hatred for pigs. Pigs became my cohorts in fake crime! The last thing you want to do in this fake battle is get a pig who wants to smash your face into the pavement, and I’m telling you, COSTUME AND NO FEAR IS THE WAY!!!!! If you are caught in the midst of some anti-patriot anarcho spectacle, FREEZE! Literally! Don’t move! What a beautiful vision of motionless clowns and impotent feds who can’t arrest anyone who’s not doing anything against the law! To join the art army, just write rainbowclownshit@hotmail.com with your city and you will be added as an indispensable part of the mission. Feel free to share all pertinent ideas and visions to add to the collective pool and help us achieve immortality. And pass this invite along to all potentially interested parties.

IMPORTANT! Links to info YOU need to know! Share w/others!

joanofart — Sat, 13 Sep 2008 08:01:00 GMT

I have many links which I have found to aid in my understanding that I thought may interest you too. It’s very important that we start to take the reigns of information dispensation and media into our own hands. Emails, blogs, and alternative public forums are a great way to get the word out! I see other free thinkers taking a similar stance and am very happy that people are empowering themselves and others around them by refusing to participate in the mind control of the mainstream. Turn off your t.v.! Want to know the Galactic Overview, Journey into Oneness, Illuminati money changers, the Orion Empire, who really controls world politics, and the One World Order (also referred to as the New World Order?) http://home.iae.nl/users/lightnet/creator/masterfile.htm Want to know about the individual enlightened alien races which have seeded our planet and are our presently assisting us? www.siriusascension.com Want to find out about how U.S. tax dollars are funding the Red Army in China under the auspice of the New World Order? http://www.infowars.net/articles/april2006/180406China.htm Want to find out about the bizarre darth vader and dead baby mind control murals at the Denver airport and the underground bases there and in many other parts of the country? http://www.geocities.com/baja/5692/ http://www.anomalies-unlimited.com/Denver_Airport.html Fellow academic brainboxes- want to get your masters thesis in alien science and learn about our 12-stranded DNA potential for enlightenment??? (amongst many obscure info bites) www.keylonticdictionary.org Want to join the ground crew for consciousness raising and starseeds with tons of interesting and pertinent tribes and public forum for posting articles and blogs? www.realitysandwich.com www.ashtarcommand.net http://www.projectavalon.net/forum/index.php Want to find more about the incredibly accurate Mayan calendar in addition to learning your Mayan glyph and soul essence? www.astrodreamadvisor.com (scroll down to Mayan pages, the Dreamspell calculator is in the upper left red box) www.tortuga.com www.13moon.com (which sells AMAZING printed Mayan calendars that I have bought for two years now- so satisfyingly accurate) I highly encourage you to save this list of links if your intuition is zinging in any degree. Then you can peruse this stuff at your own leisure and in your own time. And folks, time is of the essence- FEEL FREE to send this information to others!!!! The future depends on the collective knowledge, wisdom, and love we are able to attain and share with others freely. With Great Hope, Erin aka Log aka Joan of Art My myspace: www.myspace.com/thebadbabysitterproject My facebook name: Erin Log Andromeda

LoveSexDeathKali

joanofart — Wed, 10 Sep 2008 10:06:42 GMT

LoVeLoVeSexSexDeathDeath Yes I confess I'm a high priestess of sex and death. Which might then come as a surprise that I recently wrote an article called "Sustainable Love" recently published on Reality Sandwich. Reality Sandwich is an amazing alternative media and free-thinking that is essential reading for anyone with a taste for the new paradigm and can’t stand regular news. I can’t recommend it highly enough. www.realitysandwich.com. It is Daniel Pinchbeck’s godchild. Sustainable Love is the philosophical godchild that I gave birth to in regards to the massive amount of processing engendered by death love heart-break rebirth and magic as they’ve wielded their ways through the last two trying years of my life. I’ve tried to understand sustainability as an archetype of preservation that defies my own propensity towards creation and destruction. I feel satisfied with the results and only hope that I can walk my talk. I would love your feedback on the sandwich. It’s very important that we start to take the reigns of information dispensation and media into our own hands, and this is a great place to start. I see other free thinkers taking a similar stance and am very happy that people are empowering themselves and others around them by refusing to participate in the mind control of the mainstream. Turn off your t.v.! Sign up for a free account and put your two cents in on my article or any of the articles that get ya where it hurts- or feels good. You decide! The future is ours if you want if badly enough.

Competing Alien Conspiracies

joanofart — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 22:27:24 GMT

As to my extraterrestrial origins… I’m a Sirian Arcturian starseed and have had experience flying a non-3D UFO, in other words a spaceship that was not physical and therefore “not real” to most peoples’ understanding of “real.” I was in trance at the time, and “the other” appeared in the form of a UFO in my mind’s eye during a time when I was questing to re-integrate my soul. The particular spot in which I was meditating I had already opened up a few portals through different magic rituals, so it was a highly charged spot. Different alien races are considered “other” just as different human nationalities are considered “other,” but the enlightened E.T. races and enlightened humans will recognize the inherent oneness of all consciousness. The “other” is more than a projected aspect of human consciousness or imagination, and yet it seeks to integrate with our consciousness to help us realize our essential oneness. Such is paradox. I was honestly surprised by how classically round with the bulging top the UFO looked in my mind’s eye, almost like a still photograph. Before I saw this image, I was completely convinced that UFOs were a projected 3D phenomenon of the human imagination and was skeptical about the existence of starships at all. I was not trying to see this starship. I asked for help and that is what showed up. I joked with the aliens who I imagined to be inside, “You gonna shine the light down from your spaceship and beam me up or what?” imagining all the accounts of others who had described their abductions where the ramp shoots down, the light shines out, the whole bit. I am generally not a very visual person and not usually inclined towards visions such as these unless there is something that is really happening not merely spawned by my mind, which tends to sift through fact and fiction like a psychic laser beam. The aliens inside the ship telepathically communicated to me, “Just use your mind to get on the ship.” As soon as I did, I felt their consciousness rush at me in one big surging tidal wave of energy from all around me. It felt a little invasive and at first, and I was a little scared, considering what boundaries Earthlings’ had crossed with me and my memory of the pain of union. But once we became of one mind, there was such ecstatic joy at realizing our inherent oneness. It felt like a giant blissful party in outerspace. Oneness ceremonies are common amongst higher-minded E.T.s Mind you I already knew I was an E.T. myself and had previously experienced communications with both humanoid E.T.s. and higher dimensional non-embodied E.T.s. from Sirius and Arcturus. These races often monitor those on Earth whom they have starseeded. It was almost as if they were waiting to reveal their starship at a time that I might better integrate the knowledge. The time was ripe with synchronistic blessings. I am still not convinced of these starships’ physical existence (though open to the possibility if proven otherwise). I do however see that they are containers for consciousness as it travels across the universe. Perhaps the sightings are like seeing high frequency light likened to a shape by their occupancy in a small time-space spot on the grid, orbs included. Consented abductions are conducted by enlightened beings; forced abductions are always carried on by the Intruders. There is a lot of truth to the notion that you attract aliens on a similar frequency with a similar set of debunkt or enlightened programming depending on your own consciousness or state of soul growth. This is a primary concern of the Ashtar Command (positive E.T. security) who is not able to intervene with the pacts that human beings and the Illuminati has intentionally or unintentionally made with the negative E.T.s., some of whom are the Zeta Reticuli and One World Agenda E.T.s from Orion. The Orions, who had a huge impact on humanity’s development and infancy, have a dominator and fascistic society that very much mirrors what is going here amidst humans. Conflict for them is the norm. They depend on a mate for any kind of emotional release from the strict societal control around them. As with humans, there are positive and negative Orions, lest they get categorized in a dualistic framework since many of us have aspects of Orion consciousness within us. The Black League Orions are resisting the Orion empire as it seeks dominion elsewhere as well. My intuition was drawn to the Orions’ negative influence long before I started researching them. Well- imagine the mind control and the accompanying disinformation purporting more negative E.T. encounters when you think about who is in control and where their loyalty and values lie. Fascistic leaders will attract fascistic E.T.s and rule with their force combined, manipulating en masse. This is very unfortunate given the gullibility and naivete of the average citizen who is host to this disinformation and the values of the patriarchy under the nearly invisible auspice of fascism that now haunts this country and globe. The negative E.T.s’ One World Order Agenda is infamous for setting up puppet governments that create the illusion of freedom to the governed public while involved in complete mind control behind the scenes. The illusion of free will becomes another manipulation that is grandly orchestrated. Now the parallels are starting to make sense…. Some negative E.T.s feed off of negative human emotions. The Zetas even feed off our cows and some humans, taking the nutritive substance from these mammals’ mucous membranes and absorbing them through their skin much like a plant absorbs nutrients from the outside environment. They don’t have digestive systems. Many Zetas (also known as the greys) are trying to establish a One World Order and claim dominion over Planet Earths’ resources as well as the 12 main stargates, the Halls of Amenti being Earth’s stargate, which the negative E.T.s wish to control or destroy. If they accomplish this, it would mean that consciousness incarnating on Earth would be unable to ascend dimensions or exit the time matrix. We would be stuck reincarnating ad infinitum, unable to ascend to higher non-material dimensions where atemporality is the dominant meme. A stargate is an electromagnetic field that exists as a fixed point in space inside of suns and planets, permitting passageway for consciousness in between universes and density levels or dimensions. It is essentially a portal that allows consciousness to change spots on the time-space grid from one dimension to another. I wouldn’t be surprised if certain alien races are using stargates to shift the dimensionality of their crafts in order to make themselves visible and therefore known to humans. We must remember that by and large, their technology is more advanced than ours, so the possibility of what they are able to create probably is beyond the imagination of most human beings, and most certainly beyond our current science. The Zeta Reticuli are definitely travailing into Earth through their knowledge of time portals in our dimension. The Zeta Reticuli are one of the oft-mentioned gray races responsible for abductions. They spliced emotionality (and therefore empathy) out of their DNA as a factor of convenience since their society was in such tumult; it served them at the time to not be able to feel the chaos. Their society became more technologically advanced than spiritually or emotionally advanced (much like Earth society). With their fancy alien technology, they polluted their own atmosphere to such a degree that they lost the capacity to reproduce and started to clone themselves. Wonder why all the grays look so similar? They are studying humans’ reproductive systems’ in hopes of regaining the ability to reproduce, hence gential manipulation in space crafts during some abductions. Their DNA becomes weaker each time they clone themselves, so it serves the survival of their species to be able to reproduce like humans. They also don’t understand the emotions involved in sex and study these emotions with their accompanying bio-physical states. There are sub-species of Zeta prototype in different colors and sizes who represent a group of Zeta mutations created through their experiments in genetic engineering. This explains the physical similarities in a lot of pictures of aliens which are really just variations on the theme of Zeta. They do exist in the 3D biological realm unlike a lot of other higher dimensional E.T. races. They are one of the primary Earth Intruders involved in the negative Alien Agenda. The Zetas plan to use holographic inserts to orchestrate the “mental takeover” of forced matrix transplants in hope of gaining dominion over the Earth territory. Through manipulating the impulse codes intrinsic to human biology, “reality pictures” can be created to the unsuspecting human to perceive. These manipulated “reality pictures” are called Holographic Inserts and are used to cause what is called Perceptual Interference of the surrounding objective environment. These Holographic Inserts can be coded to emerge as past memory or as present time three-dimensional objective experience. Unlike simple hallucination, the “reality picture” of the Holographic Insert affects the individual or group who is being altered and anyone who comes into the encoded perimeters of its boundaries. It is as if someone created a “virtual reality” picture for you to walk through, and its contours are so seamless compared to your “real hologram” reality that you don’t realize anything has changed. They are used to manipulate and direct individuals and masses of people. The Zetas are able to initiate this tactic using mental applications and without mechanical devices. The technology for artificial creation of holographic inserts through mechanical means is presently being shared by the Zetas to the Interior Government of Earth. Inserts depicting religious personages and dramas have already been employed, faking “miracles,” appearances of saints and holy ones. Plans are in the making to stage dramas using traditional as well as “new age” belief systems and personages held sacred to the traditional religions to divert people into submission, subservience and blind obedience to the official and covert (interior) governments. The holographic inserts have been and will be used to lead people away from the true divinity that lives within them and away from any true spiritual connection. Through the distortions in human traditions and ancient teachings, you have been taught to disown personal power, to deny your perceptions and to perpetually distract yourself from looking inward to the knowledge that lives within your connection to the Host Soul Matrix that now serves as the organizational structures for your fragmented genetic code. Instead, you have cultivated the habit of adhering to the dictates of outside authority figures, gurus, etc. You have been taught to obey, to follow blindly the ideas others have handled to you and to fear and mistrust the very nature of your humanity. You have been taught that you were powerless and unworthy, and that your bodies were somehow wretched and unclean and that you can “find God” by searching outside of yourself, or by appeasing some self appointed authority figure who had the power to hold your divinity for you. All purposely altered and other truths withheld so you could not make a personal connection to Source. These were NOT the original teachings! You have been “cultivated” by the Zetas for the success of a “mental takeover.” Perhaps the reason for more negative E.T. UFO encounters is the negative state of the average manipulated human mind. Negative E.T.s known as Intruders will cross peoples’ boundaries in an effort of domination, whereas light-bearing E.T.s will often only help if you ask them for help since they respect humanity’s free will. Sometimes they intervene to counteract the effects of the bad aliens of which humanity knows not. More enlightened alien races cannot intervene with human freewill. It is against their ethics. In consented abductions you are treated with respect; no harm will come to you other than the harm you might do to yourselves in trying to deny the experiences or in resisting the visitation should you become aware during the event. You are abducted in order to train you and in order to teach you things you have not yet dreamed exist. Your soul agreed to the consensual visitation even if your ego battles it. You will be allowed to remember when you are ready to handle that memory wisely, and then your abductions will no longer be abductions, but instead conscious visitations. It is also not the easiest thing to reveal that you’re a light-bearing E.T. since we tend to play the shadow dumping post for peoples’ fears and it gets very very old and energy consuming. The knowledge that comes to starseeds and walk-ins most people would just peg as science-fiction and hide behind the supposed mythos of it all. The stargates will be open from 2000-2017, a period of time known as a Stellar Activation Cycle when dimension shifting will be at its peak on this planet. Buckle your safety belts! The previous SAC was in 22,346 BC. To give a nod to the more enlightened E.T.s in an effort to tip the cosmic scales, Arcturians have helpful alien medicine towards higher dimensional beings becoming accustomed to physicality. They have advanced knowledge of the chakra systems, souls, light bodies, and the ability to heal ailments on all dimensions. They teach that love is the primary ingredient to be able to exist on a 5th dimensional plane. I joke that they are more human than human (at least more humanitarian). They have created gorgeous and artistic antidote codes to various programmed emotional states prevalent in the human psyche. I have included the picture for “Transition” at the top of this blog. Here is a link to more Arcturian codes in gallery one of the page. It is well worth you while to let the images that intuitively pop out at you sink into your psyche. This is the magic of alien healing. http://www.the-arcturians.com/eng/codes/index.htm Another powerful website in the effort to spread positive alien wisdom and healing: www.siriusascension.com Arcturus, as a 5th dimensional civilization, is actually a good model and prototype for what could potentially happen on Earth, especially if it continues to be physically destroyed at this rate. Sirius B is also host to a highly advanced civilization from which E.T.s are incarnating to help re-embody the spirit of the goddess on this planet amongst other teachings and transmissions. (Pleiadians are similar in that way). Sirians helped the Egyptians build the pyramids and taught the Egyptians about astronomy and medicine, and were also around during the Mayan reign and Atlantis. Enlightened Andromedans are a unity conscious race and teach about the ever-shifting nature of light that is actually all encompassing. And well- everyone knows about the Pleiades- so artistic! In the vein of “willing the transformation” so that the One World Order Agenda does not see its fulfillment and you don’t have to be stuck here forever or become dogfood for evil aliens, do your fellow human beings and the earth a huge favor and mention one of these positive alien races any time someone mentions one of the negative ones in the effort of unwinding their power. Even if you don’t completely believe it- you are doing the positive E.T. agenda and the Guardian Alliance a huge favor by inviting them in through the power of invocation. The light forces need all the strength they can muster. This Earth is way too gorgeous a place to give it up to alien disinformation and manipulation that is like cosmic smegma in the minds of the ignorant, corroding the vast potential of what we can accomplish as a collective and cooperative force. We don’t have to have all the answers, but we do have to tip the scales. And let’s think about stopping the fights over details which may never be fully known in favor of resonating with truths that strike our hearts in intuitive understanding, saying, “YES!”

WRATH OF LOG- Arizona style

joanofart — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 04:05:07 GMT

What is UP with the fascistic mind control in Arizona? Is this rest of America THIS bad? Or is it WORSE? I got 86ed from a strip club tonight for dancing. I repeat. I got kicked out of a strip club for dancing, by a bouncer with a mohawk! Does this sound obscene? Certainly more obscene than any of the pussy or tits you’d see at the club. I honestly am floored, shocked, disgusted, and have a new sense or ravenous vengeance on all the American Nazis who can kiss my motherfucking lily white anti-redneck homo-sucking ass. The appalling thing about this from a psycho-sexual standpoint, is that when fat white men with money were dancing with the girls out in the crowd away from the stage, no one said, “Hey you fat fuck! Stop dancing! You don’t know how to move so stop!” But when a gorgeous 6’2” incredible dancer of a maven stands up to dance to a song she likes, it’s all of a sudden inappropriate. “Excuse me,” they always say, and tell you that whatever you’re doing is not allowed, it doesn’t matter what the fuck it is as long as they say so. So at first, wanting to continue to have a good time (which apparently is against the law in all 50 states), you try to level with the person, incorrectly assuming that they have a mind. So I respond, “There were just a couple people dancing here before and they didn’t get kicked out.” And because you are being totally rational, they ALWAYS say, “The manager told me,” or “these orders don’t come from me,” or, “I’m just the messenger,” as if to discharge any personal responsibility they possess for being fascist. So who the hell do the orders come from you bastard child of Satan’s worst fuck? And then you try to level with them even more, because hell, you don’t go out that often and frankly, you’d rather spit in someone’s face then to have them kick you out without a fight. “Did you not see the people dancing here before? It’s obviously not against the rules if THEY didn’t get kicked out. This is a dance club!” I exclaim. “This is not a dance club. This is a strip club.” Yeah, with exotic dancers. What the fuck do you think I am homeboy? Some asshole redneck off the street who fits your conception of reality? I OWN reality, not this one, some other one, where unimaginative fascist fruitcakes who get no pussy get put in diapers and are given a rattle to play with. Do you remember me now? Uh huh… you’re worst dream and your favorite nightmare, playing again and again like a bad Twilight Zone episode, the one where daddy left mommy to go pursue a young money-hungry lass who left him for hotter younger cock. Meanwhile Mommy got the house AND the alimony! Do you remember your mother asshole? Would you try to tell her to stop dancing if she came out but one night a month to enjoy herself? Oh no, because she’s an old fuck, and for an old fuck to dance in public, it MUST mean they’re drunk, right? WRONG! STRIP DOWN YOUR BOXER SHORTS YOU PUNY PENILE FALSE QUALITY CONTROL IDIOT POSER LOSER!!!!! I should get PAID to strip your reality down to its bare bones and then fuck the pile of ashes after they’re burned. I’d turn this strip club into a crematorium if you hired me. No wonder you’re scared of the big bad witch! She’s the one you didn’t get to fuck but always wanted to. Oh, poor little fascist baby craving crème of witch poontang. And don’t pretend it’s not about it’s sex, gender role, or social mind control. You are feeding the machine that forces men to be dependent on women for a good time, but a woman who’s having a good time all by herself is against the rules. Yeah, I see how it is now, and why the entire cunt-tree of fascistic Amerikkkan assholes is due for a good reaming by yours truly. My greatest dream at this moment would be to rally a clown army coming plainsclothesed into the strip club, sneak into the dressing room, padlock it shut, get into clown gear, and take over the club. Fake sex with rubber balloons, strip down onstage then hump the pole AND the stripper like horny chihuahuas, beating the bouncer with giant blow-up bats, running across the bar kicking glasses off. Oh- be careful what you ask for- you just might get it. There’s a clown army in Tucson that I’m half the mind to organize for such a nefariously perverted task such as this. Can you imagine? Wait…the story gets better. I was actually hired as a dancer at this very same club only two days before. I had auditioned in a wig, and had come into to work with my freshly shorn mohawk. Suddenly I’m mysteriously out of a job. I go upstairs to the dressing room mad as hell, where I meet another stripper who is obviously an extraterrestrial by the look in her eyes. She’s skinny, stoned, and cute as she can be in her knee-length, white-heeled vinyl boots and dilated pupils. “I LOVE your hair!” she exclaims, and starts to pet me. My vicious kitty venom inverts and I begin purring like a slutty cat with my face against her smooth belly. These are the job perks I’m to give up? “Wait! I’ll get you a job here!” she exclaims, and runs out the door to find the manager. I wait there for her in the dressing room, talking to an ex-cocaine addict and an older woman who’s past her prime and does Callisthetic-like quadricep squats onstage. She wonders why she’s not making any money. I feel like a private investigator, a rebel with claws, a member of the secret society, a post-punk anti-patriot who doesn’t mind waving her bountiful ass for cold hard cash. Only- I’m not hidden enough and can’t swallow this reality. My little pony comes back. “Come tomorrow during the day and I’ll talk to Danny for you,” but it hardly seemed like a promise worth following through. I’d have to ride my bike 10 miles in 100 degree desert weather to work during the day. Fuck it! I’m going to enjoy myself as a patron of this club tonight! The manager comes in and tells me if I’m not working there I can’t be in the dressing room. That’s when the fascism began. I said good-bye to the cute friend of my little E.T. pony and went downstairs to sit outside in the dingy outdoor side room where people go to smoke. I tell my new extraterrestrial half-naked girlfriend that I’m fucking broke and need money to buy food. “Here- here’s $10,” as she whips out two fives from her panties. Life’s not so bad when strippers are paying YOU, I don’t care how much it is. “Karma,” she says, “Just remember to give back when someone else needs it,” as I remembered a woman I gave $10 to in a Venice gas station so she could fill up her gas tank and escape her abusive ex-boyfriend. I gave it to her and made her promise that she would never go back to him. She agreed, and was gone. One of the so-called bouncers- a geeky white guy comes outside and tells me that I’m in the VIP section and that I need to pay a cover if I want to stay in the club at all. My extraterrestrial pony (who’s also a Scorpio-Sagittarius like myself) runs outside and pays for a pass to keep me in the club, though with one old fuck outside in the so-called VIP section, they wouldn’t even let me park my ass for five minutes to rest after a 5 mile bike ride and just getting fired. As I walk by the geeky security guard, I tell him, “Rules aren’t everything. People are. Remember to be human.” What I don’t tell him is that I think most humans suck and that my greatest hope for this planet’s social scene are the extraterrestrials with no sense of social propriety who refuse to compromise their own values to fit anyone’s conception of what’s appropriate. I go inside the club and sit in the chair closest to the stage. For all this trouble, I’m getting front row seats! My little pony comes out dancing to The Doors, “Light my Fire.” As the lights flash red, purple and the disco ball turns, I feel like I’m in an intergalactic Vegas sex show. She swings around on the pole and still lands on her feet, flipping herself upside down to my amazement and amusement. Coming off the pole, she jokes to me and her friend sitting next to the stage, “I could have died!” then goes to molest some prick in a baseball bat who thinks he’s all that. I think I’m in love. The next stripper comes out, a beautiful Asian girl with a flawless ass that she shakes like a black chick. I’ve seen girls shake it before, but I am aghast and completely transfixed by the shape and movement of this one’s derriere. She did backwards headstands in guys’ laps and grabbed their necks between her legs like a pair of hairless tongs, cramming their faces in her black pantied pussy. A guy comes up and sets two bills on stage in the shape of an erect penis. She balances onstage with her arms and knocks the thing over with her hips, placing her ankles on either side of the guy’s face, giving him a clear shot of her behind. She’d waggle it, then unexpectedly ram her ass into his face, giving him a good jolt. I howled with delight. Thank God there are sassy strippers who don’t just reserve their bitchiness for when they’re away from the money grinders. She and my E.T. pony made my night. The ex-cockaine addict came out and danced to a electronica song, “Let’s fuck on cocaine.” My little pony’s friend came and did an amazing strip tease in strappy sandals, covering her breasts with her hands almost the entire time. The fun onstage died down a bit, but the music was bumping, and that’s when I decided to dance. When the bouncer came to kick me out, after I told him that it was fascistic bulllshit to ruin peoples’ good time, he responded, “You can take your profanity out of here.” The irony of getting kicked out of a strip club for dancing and profanity is too much- even for me. I replied while looking him dead in the shaky eyes, “If dancing is against the law here, I’m flying to Berlin on a sugar daddy’s paystub. Uh huh. You heard me. Men pay ME money to not even see me in person. Do you know you’re talking to? The next fricking THING. I’ve made men like YOU cum in the ASS!”

Galacdick Cunstitution

joanofart — Fri, 22 Feb 2008 01:01:04 GMT

GALACDICK CUNSTITUTION We, the shamanimals and anarch-angels of the United Emirates of Absurdity DooDoo Excitededly declare our Independence from Amerikaka and hereby form our own cunt tree irrespite with androgynormous transdimensional biomechanical space squirrels, canniball bearing ballerinagators and reptilian dolphin alien elves. As members of this newly obliberated mental state of absurdia ad infinitum flabbergastium of flossular glossolabial, we agree to disagree whole-heartedly with what cunstitutes a nation or a notion of a potion from outer fucking space. We are the imaginative fabricators of our own existence, dreaming cunstellations of cyborgasmorgasmic galaxies into full waking reality with a flick of our kazmicataclysmic wrists. In breaching with so-called reality, we declare our obliberation from the entire bureaucrappic system and mental barrio that our forefathers have bequeefed unto us. We practice a transcendent political abhoria known as shamaniacal transgenderless renassault, kleptocratic clownarchy, and any other fauxnomenomely not known to humanoid kind. We hereby graduate from the human race completely, entering this passing hypnotizement of gothic feline cyborg mermaids catastrobating with quesadildos, imploding under the vulvonic force of The Poddess, Androgynous Alien God/dess of Erotic Love. We are the salsa makers, the cosmic pie bakers, the hellsink and hyperflex, the storm trooper super ZyX. We invent our own species at WILL and at a moment’s notice. We invent our own fake governmental factions and elect ourselves as the politissues to wipe up the cosmic smegma of monotony that has come to plague the human race. This teleojaculation of retrofornicating canker sores has been fully realized with the help of The Mighty Zorlock- Improvisational God of the Present Self, Children, and Retards. Through Zorlock’s grace alone do we choose our own unofficial governmental titles, allowing ourselves the liberty to change station at any time, change our minds, or change our underpants. SOME OF OUR OFFICES INCLUDE: Clown Instigators Anonymous (CIA) Free Bureau of Inspiration (FBI) Cliterati Alien Rights’ Committee (ARC) Cyborgeoisie (CBG) United Nigga Artists (UNA) SPACE PROGRAM: Gynocosmonauts (GC) Donut Hole Asstroknots (DHA) SIGNATURES: Earthling Name: Goobernatorial Station : Committees Log , Self-Elected Space Pharaoh, Joan o' fArt, Shitler, CIA, FBI, ARC, CBG, DHA Toylit , Evil Bunny Dicktatertot, Cosmic Janitor Toylit , FBI, ARC, GC, Cliterati, DHA Wilhelm Diesel Reich III , Psychadelic Fascist , CIA And please feel free to invent an Earthling name if you would like to remain anonymous.

DMT & Erotic Love

joanofart — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 04:19:09 GMT

Today I took a Die-Methyl-Trip-to-Mars. I Died Many Times. I Didn’t Make Two+Two = Four but Implored Another Two to Realize 222, which means, I died enough times to become an Immortal. All these mini-deaths I’ve been having along the way have piled up into a magically delicious pile of my sub-selves’ skulls who all have rainbow gamma rays shooting out the holes in their heads. The delinquentessential epiphone: The Meow Factor, a state of sensual comfort owing to Garden variety hedonism; the aim of all human endeavor. The example delighted unto me was a fellow tripper who stuffed my freezing feet in between her breasts to keep me warm. I felt like an intergalactic Eskimo and realized that The Meow Factor must become paramount. Tripping to the tune of tinkling bells and different pitched metal xylophone bars, I could see where Bjork drew her inspiration. “Get ready for the Ice Age, ladies and gentlemen,” I mused aloud. Being denied the comfort and essential yumminess of The Meow Factor often turns men into blazing trails of mysoginistic vomit. Many men have a heavy rejection complex that they often burn women up with who get too close or who won’t get close enough to let them fuck them. Although they might not consciously realize it, men’s internal meow is revved and amped up through having sex with a woman, an essence they are denied in their male friendships through being denied by society basic emotional and physical intimacy. Our homophobic and goal-oriented culture refuses to allow men easy access to The Meow Factor by pegging more feminine or vulnerable men as gay. Their career and other signs of being productive are valued over their essence and beingness- very un-meow. Ridiculous, I know. My cat is laughing right now. When “straight” men are denied this essential life force by a woman who represents the only socially acceptable way to receive meow-ness and love, they often lose their cool. They go out of their way to try to show their power in other areas of life. In response to a woman’s non-receptivity to some outward display of his power, he will often pull a patriarchal one-up-manship by knocking her down a few notches. If they can’t get your sex, they at least want a piece of your mind. No, not all men. Ultimately, women have the sexual power in this society. Let us not forget this important fact. The other instance of erotic cat vomit which fuels mens’ rejection complex and denial of The Meow Factor occurs when men make unwelcome passes at women who have had their shirtsleeves saturated with enough etheric semen to fuel a sperm bank. One more cum-on is like a rotting fish whose smell makes you gag and puke, and not in the good way. There is something to be said for “knowing your league” to avoid the unwelcome rejection of stepping outside your sexual caste. If you want to know who is in your league, just ask a friend with an objective eye. The same paradigm of meow un-meow holds true for women and man-hating, except that they represent the polarity of erotic cat vomit being barfed up from their feline mouths while having control of the Meow Factor. We all know women are allowed to complain more about their emotional woes in relationship, often castrating their men in the process. If you’re a smart woman, you can hold space for your man to share his feelings after you’ve chopped off his balls or false ego (what’s the difference really?). A good man is a man that can take a good talking to from an empowered woman and come back a better man for it. But it is a dire mistake to martyr your own integrity just to try and hold onto a man expecting that he will change if he’s already getting sex from you. In the end, you will be an unhappy victim. Word from the wise- if he’s not up to par in some crucial area, try and change him before you start fucking and you will have a lot more luck and better results. At that point he knows who you are and has accepted the terms of the relationship. There is astounding value in taking things slowly. We are not born knowing how to love each other in this world. We have to teach each other so we remember. Trust takes time. Men often experience profound gratitude when being gently probed and prodded by The Goddess (in female or male form) to share more innerformation, and don’t even realize the joy of the intimacy they were missing until after having shared and been received by their women. It is the Goddess’s delight to lovingly motivate more closed men towards the monumental task of emotional sharing as strong women and sensitive men do. We Goddesses and Gods are the great protectors of innocence, vulnerability, and all that would inspire a little kitten to realize he is an ancient sphinx as he meows out to her alien kin from atop a pyramid in Egypt. From her kitty third eye is a psychic lighthouse that catches kindred spirits in the light he casts on the desert floor. A Hathor- 5th dimensional extraterrestrial residing in the etheric realm of Venus- possessed my body during my DMT trip. I wondered what spirit had entered me as my body shook to let the entity in. That’s when I saw this powerful little kitten meowing as if to find his Mother God while calling out to all lifeforms of a similar artistic and spiritual persuasion who were caught in the light his third eye blared. The Hathors taught the Egyptians about tantra, the key to immortality through orgasm, and the 4th and 5th dimensional phenomena for which Egyptians are well-reknowned. I know you’ve heard by now about the 100th Monkey Effect. What I speak of is the space monkey that landed on the kitty’s back right before Loki stole the key to eternity. The Mystery subsumed me and I remembered the value of forgetting. That’s when the Norse trickster made his presence known in the room, showing me that everything and everyone I encounter possesses the spirit of the trickster as it is reflected back to my trickster noodle. You think you know? Think again! Alas, Loki is the God of Mischief, Strife, Fire, and a tricky little shape-shifter. He is capable of changing forms at a moment’s notice as the situation requires. I relate to his powers of identity shifting in the vast plasma pool of creaturic identities I take in and through myself, animals, imagined phantasms, aliens, and ghosts included. Loki’s curse is that whatever creature he turns into is still confronted by the limitations of the real world in which that creature lives. His godliness is deflated by the limitations of a body. Boy, can I relate! To realize the divinity in strife that Loki holds sacred made me re-evaulate the last two hellish years. Is not hell godly as well? Do not we burn our ego’s concerns in the purging fires of Lucifer’s greatest so-called dualistic trick? There is a fool’s card in identifying divinity with only light, love, and all the typical things with which we associate divine providence. DMT shows us that everything is divine. If that’s the case, then invite darkness to dinner and find out what he has to say. If he flips his bowl of mash potatoes over and rubs his butt slime all over your three-course meal in hell, ask him how to make a better mash of it next time! Loki only became more sinister as time went on…. Loki destroyed the world by stopping time. The trick was this: time was an illusion as was the destruction of the end of the world. To all those whose world ended, the microcosmic wheel of their own internal clock remained permanently stuck in the mechanistic Clogged Clock Syndrome. There was a vaccine to this most fatal illness, but to get it, you had to welcome aliens into your life as your lords and saviors. You had to become time travellers and masters of inner space. It mattered not whether you ascribed this consciousness to aliens or dildos. The point is, you had to do it. All who were ready for the 4th dimensional shift and had done their spiritual homework welcomed the so-called “End of the World,” which actually signaled the End of the Erotic Nightmare of History. The sexual novelty that would come at the climax of The Eschaton was a complex and elaborate tantric tongue spoken by the most robust intergalactic lovers. They saw the divine in everyone they sacredly screwed, the erotic prose as individual as the creatures’ rose unfurled whose plasma bottles mixed. Through their love, a third eye sprouted, a third eye that could see more than what either one of them could as individuals see with a single set of eyes. This third eye belonged to the little kitten on top of the pyramid who could see that the ultimate goal of human existence was to live in the The Meow Factor. If we do not learn the art of sexual loving, Loki will chop off cocks and nail cunts to Lucifer’s coffin as it orbits Earth and the Gods laugh. The gaseous erotic farse field surrounding the globe will gain too many holes to heal, and all the weeping vaginas of the world will forget how to love. Assholes will become cryogenitally sealed containers for shame. I shudder at the thought of an Erotic Ice Age after the hellfire of humanity’s karmic payback has seen its completion. Let’s help each other brothers and sisters before it’s too late, and eros has lost its magistrate. I would say let’s go politico and smash the state, but there are more pressing matters of how to relate.

THEATRE OF LIFE

joanofart — Sun, 13 Jan 2008 05:28:05 GMT

It is Not Enough to Love Because One Knows it is the Right Thing to Do. Such a Love makes Excellent Bed Fellows with Guilt, Shame, and the feeling that one is One is not doing the Right Thing. What is the Right Thing therefore, to which we dedicate the fruit of our Good Intentions? Self-Actualization? Enlightenment? Unconditional Love? It seems to me that in order for any of these things to be possible, the Cosmic Coup de Gras that is Groping for our Attention is the Ability to Express Oneself in an Unadulterated, Uberwhelming, Abstract Anti-Anecdotal Authentic Soul-Spewing from the Vast Mystery of Self: A Self with One Love, One Hate, but with a Plethora of Faces to Differentiate. We All Want the Same Things: People to Love and be Loved by, a Passion to which we Dedicate the Bounty of our Life Force, a Job that we Enjoy Doing, and the Ability to Speak Our Mind when The Moment of Truth Cannot be Suppressed for One Second Longer. And yet- Somewhere along the Line we get Stuck. We are taught that we must keep our deepest thoughts and Original Expression to ourselves if we are to be accepted by people in a society that covets popularity over authenticity. We are taught we must wear different masks- costume even- to keep those vulnerable and extraordinary parts of ourselves hidden or revealed according to the appropriateness of the situation. We are taught we must be specialists in our field of interest in order to make our passion economically feasible. For the starving artist sector of society- we are taught we must subject ourselves to menial work so that we can afford to keep our artistic integrity free of the bad art karma money has in this land of hungry ghosts and rockstar wannabes. These External Motivators and Wordly Concerns Leave Much to be Desired: One Thing Two Things Red Thing Blue Thing. I Sing You Sing Poo Fling Gun Sling. Where is the THEATRE IN OUR LIVES as made Manifest in Our Daily Dramas? Where is the Hot Injection of Imagination to unclog the fat artery of monotony to which we willingly subject our daily realities? Has the social agreement always been this boring, or have we just gotten lazy? “Hi- I’m Suzie.” “It’s Nice to Meet You Suzie.” “You too,” (though I have no idea who you are or what you’re about). “I’m Lame-O Geronimo Come to Wish the World a Hap-Slappy Farewell on the Blank Canvas of an Assassin’s Asscheeks. You Got a Paint-Brush?” “Uh, no, but I’ve got this White Out for your Dirty Mind," as Suzie swastikates the cheeks of her greeter in an elaborate alien greeting. Unless you’d like to Save the Color Carbon Copies of your Shamelessness as a kind of flip-through picture book to remind you when you forget that Life is Beautiful. Agony is Sweet. Love is a Conundrum, Wisdom’s Whoredom not Discreet. If you’re Lucky, you Die a Little Each Day- Shedding Snake Skin of the Past- in a Zombie Clown Parade. Our Makers Won’t Deny Us- the Thrill of Love’s Sweet Kill. The Animals are Restless, Close your Mouth to Pop this Pill. Fledgling Pharmacy of Forgotten Prescriptions. The Drugs are in your Head! Try to Tame the Animal- Join the March of the Living Dead.

"Grounded" P.C. Alien Speak

joanofart — Sun, 13 Jan 2008 05:22:15 GMT

The question I know you’ve all been dying to know the answer: is “grounded” a politically correct word in the extraterrestrial realm? First, let’s get some terms straight. By extraterrestrial, I mean any being or consciousness not originally from planet Earth though it may be inhabiting it at the moment. I use this term interchangeably with alien, which literally means foreign, something unfamiliar and of the stars. There exist many human beings on this planet who are actually of alien origin. I myself am one of them. I come from the stars Sirius B and Arcturus and belong to a race of extraterrestrial Egyptians known as the Hathor who travailed our dimension through Sirius and reside in the etheric realm surrounding Venus. If this sounds crazy, it’s probably because you’re “grounded.” There exists a trend in the New Age community that prizes “groundedness,” being down-to-earth or rooted in the mission of one’s existence on this planet to the point of self-actualization. Being grounded denotes a state of focused energy in manifesting the specific quality of life force that inhabits a body. There exist a number of ways in which to ground oneself. Most methods are primarily physical and involve yogic practice, chi gong, tai chi, or focused energy through the root chakra, legs, and feet. Your feet are literally in contact with the ground as are your legs tree trunks that support your limbs. Slowing down and focusing specifically on a task at hand also help ground one’s energy. For super creative or cerebral types, physical grounding is an enormous help to slowing down one’s thoughts and becoming grounded in the present moment. The question remains: Is being grounded politically correct terminology in alien speak? Now I know the very proposition of me calling into question whether something is P.C. or not is a laugh from here to the Pleiades. I take a giant etheric crap on anything that’s been deemed sacred enough to forget to have a sense of humor, myself included. I have to regularly wash my own poopie diapers that get smeared on my third eye after taking myself too seriously. God do they ever stink of pseudo-spiritual crap. The whole question of being grounded references the laws of gravity which heil back to Newtonian physics, a science of the 3rd dimension. Downward motion of energy is subject to the Laws of Gravity which is subject to material reality. Now many of us have already acquired an understanding of the interchangeability of energy and matter (and even space and time!) a hallmark of understanding in the 4th dimension. Quantum physics calls this the wave/particle duality, or energy/matter duality. For us 5th dimensional creatures who are not bound by the materialist consensus reality of the 3rd dimension, the whole idea of having one’s feet grounded on Earth is absurd! We are creatures of pure energy capable of jumping bodies and travelling through time and space at will. You want us to ground ourselves in the downward flow of energy into a planet that you’ve single-handedly destroyed with a dying consensus reality and false physics? Oh sorry, I forgot about the Green movement. Saving the planet has become trendy. Yes, all the generous humanoids who are gathering ‘round for the cause of saving this planet for their children. I have to remind myself sometimes of the propogation of the species that would force us to actually take an honest look at Mother Earth. She really is puking us up. Isn’t it time that a new race populated the planet, a race that was more adept at sustaining life before it was ever destroyed? These are the questions the aliens are asking to which they already know the answers. If you ever meet an alien and want to accuse them of being “ungrounded,” try “ethereal” instead. It’s much more becoming to beings with more advanced mental technology than monotonous humanoids’ claim they possess.

WHORE OF BABYLON

joanofart — Sat, 29 Dec 2007 07:00:39 GMT

I Am the Whore of Babylon I Burn Inside Your Guts I Twist and Turn and Always Learn Fine Steel Precision Cuts I Am the Whore of Babylon And Never Cease to Fail To Rip Artistic Assholes Through the Narcissistic Veil You May Try to Ignore Me Or Deny my Cosmick Fate You may Want to Condemn Me It's Yourself You Really Hate I am Cruelty's Mirror With Angels at my Back I'm the One your Mother told You Not to Mess with Jack I Am the Whore of Babylon Eating Testicles for Brunch I Choke them Down with Milk and Dick and Eat Your Mind for Lunch So Try to Assertain Just Why I get your Goad And Flip Yourself Off Just the Same I'll Swallow All Your Load

Goddess Appreciation

joanofart — Sun, 04 Nov 2007 22:04:51 GMT

Why I love women.... They are Ever-Undulating Garbs of Hilarious Mystery Unfolding onto Their own Paradox then Laughing at themselves For it. They are Saturated Enough In their own Goddess Energy- Even if not Completely Resolved In it To be Matriarchal Power Houses of Love, Support and Appreciation They may not tell you when they're upset But they'll love you when you're upset They are pillars of society its Basic Support Structure And with Enough Disinventive Architecture Shot through their Intuitive Brains into One Delicious Heap of Female Juices, Have the Power to take back the world from its Patriarchal Predators who Don't Know What The Fuck to do with THEMSELVES. Women have more Innate Power And Emotional Strength then most Men Will get to Taste in their Lives, And for that Alone do I Commend them Women- it's time to take back the Earth and Use it for our own Playful Purposes Making sure to Clean the Playpin when We're Done.

BURNED AT THE MISTAKE

joanofart — Thu, 01 Nov 2007 08:35:21 GMT

HERE YE HERE YE!!!!! Kali’s Public Castration service is open for business and free of monetary charge!! The time has cum to log in the great mistake that occurred at L.A. DECOM just a few weeks ago. Let the ball-busting begin!! The set-up: As many of you know, I declared fake war on L.A. DECOM, which was really just my scary way of saying, “Cum-on L.A.- let’s mix it up a bit and have a kindergarten class!” Sometimes I know I sound like a very scary cunt, but it’s only because I like to eat babies. The world’s suffering from over-population- what’s so wrong with that? I spoke to the organizers of Decom to inquire about booking our Dadaist Wagnerian Mickey Mouse Music Class, only they said, “that doesn’t sound like art!” and “This isn’t Burning Man; this is Decom- we can’t be THAT free!” So then I called Bobby i, the producer of the Venice Vibe Tribe stage to get a set time for The Bad Babysitter Project, my new punkrockapocalypse performance art troupe. I’ve gotten more whimsical and simultaneously more wrathful in my ways recently due to the trials and tribulations I have faced the last two years, feeling that there really is nothing to hold onto in this life. One of my artistic missions is now to save the inner child in each one of us so we don’t have to go on covering our wounds with useless sacks of baby flesh used to fill our collective void. No, no one’s guilty of THAT in THIS cunt tree. I personally know that some of the gut-wrenching heart-breaks I have experienced might have been avoided if I hadn't lost my own innocence at the hands of my murdered father and my step-father who somehow convinced me that it was my responsibility to save my dad from being a drug dealer who was shot in the head by all the vamps he let into his life by proxy. Considering the fact that Bobby practically worshipped me for years and would talk me up to others in the community as a premier performance artist in L.A., I was flomoxed when he opted to fly in bands and d.j.s from SanFrancisco instead of granting me my wish for a cracked out costumed musical theatre kindergarten class. Yeah, send in the rappers. They know about REAL entertrainment. Not having gotten official stage time from a community that at one time worshipped me and to a large extent still does, I figured, fuck it. I don’t need to be booked to perform. Art is as Art does, right? Incidentally, I had a prophetic dream months before that Bobby I molested MY inner child. As is par for my fake ways, I fake threaten child molestation as part of The Bad Babysitter Project- my point being- the inner child of each one of us has been so cosmically fucking molested it’s a wonder we have any imagination left at all in this capitalist country that does its best(worst) to try to shut artists down and force them into the capitalist game. CAPITALISM is the DEATH of ART. And because Bobby I has a bunch of CAPITAL on account of leaching off artists and other young hippie folk who pay rent in his daddy-issue capitalist compound, he has an inordinate amount of sway when it comes to calling artistic shots in the Burning Man community. His fatal flaw in incurring my public castration was a public shaming he pulled on me when I walked into a Burning Man planning committee and unprovoked said to me in front of everyone, “I don’t know if the playa is big enough for me and Log,” and strangely, he wasn’t joking. I absorbed this comment more than anyone could tell on account of all the other shit I have experienced this year, having just processed a divorce and 9 months of grief over a murder that happened 14 years ago and I didn’t know how to deal with as a kid. It was a malevolent and totally unwarranted thing to say to try and prove his alpha status as the only really powerful alpha shemale entered the room and hit his psychic g-spot without saying anything at all. So if he wonders why I’m fucking with him now, heed this message: Don’t fuck with a black widow totemed Kali-channeling Scorpio with an IQ 20X as big as your head, ASSHOLE. Why is it that the most unimaginative with the most money get to call all the shots in a so-called arts community and in Hollywood period? Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Bobby I when he’s not being a loud-mouthed Napoleanic asshole. I am as power hungry as he is, and for that reason alone do I understand him. But friends, CAPITALISM, PATRIARCHY, and the MILITARY-INDUSTRIAL complex have KILLED the ARTS!!!! Now it’s time to KILL THE BABIES!!!! Speaking of the head of the Venice Vibe Tribe, I marveled at the Venice beach drum circle the other day how the pigs actually followed dancers and drummers to a patch of grass on the boardwalk to shut down, not once, but twice, joyous rogues whose only crime was celebrating music, dance, and nature. Yet, these are our BIRTHRIGHTS. You heard right- THE FEDS, ART NAZIS & NAPOLEANICALLY IMPAIRED want to strip us of our BIRTHRIGHTS. Civil liberties will only get more spare in this so-called cunt tree as the gooberment enforces its FASCISTIC Patriot Act- the ULTIMATE PATRIARCHAL one-up-man-ship based on fear and so-called terrorism of anyone in a turban. It’s the fucking 3rd Reich all over again, only this time the Arabs, faggots and anyone having too good a time are the Jews who get the imagination gassed out of their thick skulls. They’re even putting fluoride- a brain-dulling substance about as healthy as depleted uranium- in our babies’ bottled drinking water. HOORAY! Back to the depleted uranium of Decom: The love that I got from the “L.A. Underground,” for whom I’ve poured my heart out and spilled my guts all over this city, was the threat that if I invaded a stage, I would be dragged out by the cops. Can you believe that shit? I might have raided a lot more stages that day, and by raided I mean rocked with my clarinet and sang accompanying crippled clown opera, only I knew I had to wait ‘til the time was truly ripe before I made the breach lest I get kicked out of a party that I had to pay to perform in. Yes, the wander-through homeless clown installation with pots, pans, and hubcaps for little babies to play was MY doing. Remember when Burning Man was INTERACTIVE boys and girls? So who was “the victim” that got the happy occurrence of my unexpected participation in their set, the band to whom I willingly gave myself as an artistic sacrifice? Department of Mental Technology, though I hardly see how they're mental or justified in calling themselves a department of "mental technology." Now when I first heard of DMT, I was an instant fan if only on account of their name. I LOVE their spirit molecule’s namesake and counted them as an instant in for the psychadelic guerrilla theatre for which I am infamous. Two of their former dancing girls are my best friends, only I marveled at how they dumbed themselves down to a couple boys who were obviously trying to boost their popularity through the objectification of women. Incidentally, DMT played at Timeship Medusa, my punk performance art costumed nightclub. They played an amazing d.j. set that night for which I payed them generously. Well, they lost out this time, and snagged me on the chin in the process with their cheap Amerikakan boxing girls and their big fancy gloves. That bitch who punched me is lucky I neither know her name or her face for all her petty whining, “you can’t be up here,” before she nailed me the final blow that made me an official martyr of the L.A. Underground. Make me your fake patron saint L.A.! The mortal coil of my so-called ambitions in a community that once felt like home is being eroded as the Earth of my womb makes space for another tragedy. My ovarian cysts burst two times in one week shortly after this event and I am weak as a dying embryo. A HEALTH SIDE-NOTE: Why is it that all the powerful women in our community are getting cysts in their ovaries and other female reproducticve disorders, ovaries being the female equivalent to testicles? Because women with REAL BALLS are not ALLOWED to be powerful in this culture unless they play by the same patriarchal rules as their male counterparts and castrate their conspirators in the process. Fuck that!!!! If you can’t empower those around you, then your power is useless and selfish. If you can’t mock yourself, then someone needs to fling poo on you. Only a real court jester can get away with MOCKING THE KING. And so in my microcosm of an art/warrior’s heart and body reflecting the cosmic whole, I got to experience the DEATH of ART at L.A. Decom. Nietzche said, GOD IS DEAD. I say, ART IS DEAD. Only, I AM ART!!!! And yeah, I'm fucking dead. Sure there were beautiful installations, great performers, great peeps. All told- it was a pretty cool fucking party. But did I get to enjoy it? No. First of all, having a fresh batch of ovarian cysts that were screaming, I fought against every ounce of my fledgling body to go and give my creative best at Decom even though the organizers of Decom assigned one of the pigs to hawk me the ENTIRE TIME. “Don’t wear any strap-on dildos, don’t do anything lewd in front of the children, don’t invade the stage and ruin everyone’s good time,” kerbloppity blook. Incidentally, I used to be a kindergarten teacher for yoga/dance. I love children most of all, and would NEVER do anything to rape their minds/spirits like mine once was. As par for my fake ways, I will fake threaten ANYTHING if hits peoples’ TABOO button. We will never accomplish anything as a species if we don’t eradicate ALL TABOOS. And why is child molestation taboo in this cunt tree? Because so many people have actually really been molested or raped on account of a severly sexually repressed culture that in my opinion is responsible for ALL the WARS we have today. It seems my only alternative to combat the powers that be are through ART WARS. Fuck STAR WARS. We fight for humanity’s birthright to REALIZE their true cosmic origin in the stars. We are ALL made of STARDUST. Only a real magician and alien can pull the plug on the mundamnity that has come to plague a so-called alternative "arts" community that has degenerated into an excuse to dress funny and have promiscuous sex under the auspice of freedom. It is to this cheap imitation of The Real Thing that I willingly give my own blood to help teach you all the lesson of martyr arts in hopes of the community moving through this vacuous bardo of furry pink leg warmers and ass spanking. A PROBING PHILOSOPHICAL INTERLUDE: Martyr Arts is the act of willingly giving your neck to an artistic mission, having faith in the false ego being beheaded through universal will and the sacrifice of your artistic pride. When you the sacrifice your own will and pride to the illuminated will of the larger universal artistic whole, you know full well that it will be painful as your puny little ego fights for the breath of life. You sacrifice your own ego’s concerns, willingly forego any temporary pleasure as you do battle, and beckon the cosmic knife of strife to make a lesson of you for all to see. When you sacrifice yourself or anything else important to you: your beauty, your art, your BMW; you create a hole in the ether, a space to be filled with intent. With right intent, whatever you take that to be, you create the possibility of your vision being fulfilled by offering yourself as the ultimate sacrifice to cosmic artistic will. This might not have been a will you foresaw before you sacrificed or surrendered yourself to its Infinite Possibility. We are often blind to Universal Will moving through us until we’ve sacrificed our Will to a situation out of our control that is in one way or another, demanding our attention. You know if an artistic problem is demanding your attention if you hear a gut-curling scream in your brain saying your participation is needed RIGHT NOW! Because a Martyr Artist moves by psychic and synchronistic timing, you must be fearless and ready on your toes the moment the voice says, GO! Hopefully you have some kind of plan before you go. Otherwise you look not like an artistic genius, but an idiot without a message, invading stage for the narcissistic and destructive fuck of it. No, I don't know anything about that. The type of artistic martyring I speak of has to do with a performative context. I suppose in the realm of painting or drawing it would involve the slashing or burning of precious prints and paintings to which one is attached. I once had a Kali painting burn herself to ash on my altar, imprinting her presence immortal on my mind’s eye in the space donut ash angel she left circumscribed on the wall behind. Kali is the Hindu Goddess of Death, Timelessness, and the Destroyer of the Negative Ego. To all those who respect her power, she is the most compassionate goddess despite her reputation as an ego slasher of the most severe order. And if you don’t respect her, she’ll kick your ass from here to Mars without two thoughts about it. Most people are more familiar with her wrathful and destructive aspect. This is unfortunate since she is the most powerfully creative and fertile God/dess of the whole Hindu pantheon, which is why her image was so demonized by mysoginistic Brahmin priests. As many people are now aware, I channel Kali and other strange alien entities, including Berlinquis, my mischievous shape-shifting alien lover and altar ego. Oh Berlinquis, Why Have You Forsaken Me?! A martyr in the traditional sense becomes a savior solely on account of dying, her followers only receiving her message en masse because of her death. In Martyr Arts, the death is not literal, but metaphoric, the artist sacrificing the traditional pleasure associated with entertaining people in favor of fighting a spiritual battle. To be an effective Martyr Artist, the artist must first decide what principle she is fighting for. It is not enough to fight purely because one is against a particular aspect of the “art” world or mundane world at large. Shutting down another artist just for the fuck of it is destruction of the basest and most simplistic order, and wreaks not of art but of pure slander and the shame which we would never wish to propogate as lovers of life and creation. Unless of course you just want to fuck with people, and certainly there’s a time and place for everything. If we can’t be destructive in our arts venues, where can we be without being arrested outright? Still- one must have a flame of truth burning a hole of fire so far up their ass as to render them cosmically disabled if they did not fight for these ignoble truths, even if no one else sees them or recognizes them at first. If they’re smart, then in due time, they will all catch up. And the stupid ones, fuck em’. They’re OUR sacrifices. These are the secrets of the Shamaniacal Martyr Artist, a Warrior of the Spirit and the one for whom Art is a Way of Life. Joan o’ (f)Art’s Perfect Poetic closing to L.A. Decom reads sideways: Bobby I actually did karmic clean-up for me that day by cutting DMT’s set early because THEY SUCKED- and not alien balls. I’d like to think that he and I can have peace after I publicly dis him. I can tell when people are lying to me, and I HATE being lied to and flaked on, which is perhaps my greatest flaw coupled with an inordinate taste for revenge on all those who would try to shut down THE ALIEN AGENDA. Perhaps peace is too much to ask and the only peace I can hope for is disharmonius unity. He is Me and I am Him. As you can imagine, I absorbed quite an energetic blow on account of having physical violence thrust upon me in the precarious state I was in already. And my friends in the audience were surprised at how upset I was since they thought DMT had planned the invasion. “You played clarinet along with their music perfectly! We thought is was a planned invasion!” No friends, synchronicity tells me when to strike. The transvestite who received me all smiley googly-eyed after I got punched in the face and shoved into the shadows of the L.A. Underground art hell forever? A man dressed as Kali, my mirror reflection, since I’m really a gay boy on the inside. I bought my cunt at a costume shop, and all the ladies love me. What what? Kali Baba Log the 3rd dimensional ART SLAYER takes one for the team of 4th dimensional psychadelic fascists and stinkromystic TIME NAZIS. Eat our German GooGoo byatches!!!!! The babies are bizzy making weapons of ass destruction and will soon unleash their wrathful vomit. God, so much WRATH, so LITTLE TIME!!!!!

HEIL SHITLER!!!!!

joanofart — Sun, 21 Oct 2007 03:13:35 GMT

To all the nomenclature nomads whose cleft palette Kookimon made his cum-on way too soon, I say to you verily: FEAR NOT! The ROBOT Poodle Snot Shan't be wasted on a Cunt Tree as BARE as AMERIKAKA!!!!! We will take our mutant Satan's spawn and alien iridology to lands far more down-trodden than the shrink-wrapped plastic ziplock bag of AMERICA'S LAST ARMPIT!!!! We will mine the lowest mountatin, the stinkiest fortress, the smeariest mirror, and if by then we haven't found the sacred spewometry of the key to garden variety hedonism, we will abandon all notions of human pleasure to the destructive forces of ZOR!!!! Over & Out, Shitler

THE WRATH OF LOG!!!!!!!!!

joanofart — Sat, 29 Sep 2007 08:00:47 GMT

Anyone who's every wanted to artistically collaborate with me, been inspired by me, secretly worshipped me, or been approached by me for collaboration, PLEASE take the time to read this message. It would mean so much to me and my dead baby. So here it is, served fresh and hot off my angry muff this evening, THE WRATH OF LOG. Someone said that “Underground-” artistically speaking- is anything that’s non-commercial. I say it’s the mutant spawn of the gnomes from middle earth and if doesn’t have the guts to breathe in The Mystery, than it has no place posing as some sort of alternative expression because it’s not Madonna. And yet, after having thrown numerous interactive and shamaniacal sometimes flops of events sometimes glorious ones and even having live voodoo sexorcisms for your transformative pleasure, I feel the strange etheric reject button on my participation in the L.A. Underground. Not like it matters, since I despise the validictatorship, but just so you know the level of my commitment to art as a tool for personal and social transformation, I got a fucking degree with a thesis in The Healing Application of Performance Art: Shamanism and The Modern Artist. The narcissistic ploy that passes for “art” these days makes me want to throw up in arms, and so I stand in defiance of the social consensus that art is only what happens onstage, on a CD, or a square rectangle of canvas. Obviously with the sheer amount of expression streaming through me, stage is an obvious choice, but I spent a whole year where I refused to perform onstage due to my hard, almost Nazi-fast belief that you cannot contain art in a stage or in a one-hour set that’s pre-planned and fabricated. This, my friends, is called entertainment, and L.A. wreaks of it. In some shamanistic traditions, in order to de-condition oneself- one will do the opposite of whatever one wants to do. Or, they will do everything backwards, ie walk backwards towards the fridge and make a salami sandwich with the bread INSIDE, make one’s room filthy if they are accustomed to regularly cleaning it. And so- in my hatred for the linear-programming that the stage seemed to represent, what with hour after hour being filled with one band and then another and sets of songs and/or dances, I swung in the extreme and opposite direction by invading other peoples’ pre-fabricated sets for my belief that I AM ART, and as a TRUE object d’ART CANNOT be contained by socially sanctioned modes of so-called expression, even if it is REAL art or just a lousy imitation. All I know- is that I AM the REAL THING and as is such, can do WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT!!!!!!!! REAL or FAKE- who can REALLY tell the difference these days? If you called me a fake artist, I would take it as a cuntpliment. Thank GOD I’m not one of these pansy ass SanFrancisco Circus my-clown-shit-smells-like-gold-and-must-be-preserved-in-a-special-cryogenitally-sealed-container-for-the-viewing-public ASSHOLES. Incidentally, the head choreographer of The Vaudevire Society of SanFrancisco VIOLENTLY pushed me offstage after I did a zombie clown African dance onstage when NO ONE was performing as I was actually being RESPECTFUL of other performers’ boundaries for once. I pity this girl’s regret and displaced anger when she finds out who I REALLY AM. I pity everyone and anyone who doesn’t recognize the PURE intent of my artistic mission on this planet. People who are afraid of me are also afraid of THE MYSTERY and unexpected outcome of RAW CHTHONIC FEMININE POWER in its MOST DISTILLED and UNAPOLOGETIC form. Instead of being excited by the opportunity to plunge into unknown and ecstatic worm donut holes, the place from which TRUE, NOVEL and INFINITELY COMPLEX artistic expression occurs, people say to me, “Log- we love you- but we need you to tone it down. Log, you’re being artistically selfish; other people deserve to say their peace in the way THEY want WITHOUT your input. Log, we know you’re an evil genius, but just keep it away from us.” I myself have had to absorb this criticism and lack of faith in the awesome alien I know myself to be with trying to placate to peoples’ sense of propriety only to abandon my own sense of personal artistic integrity and be abandoned by other people anyway. Quite frankly, I think human beings are a malignant fungus that deserve the worst apocalypse that Mother Earth can proffer. And so, I’ve made an art out of defying the status quo with generally positive feedback except for a few clowns I might have pissed off along the way, and more recently by a few people who are supposedly my best friends. And you know what? I take it all on the chin as a lesson in humanity. Worship is no different than Wrath, it’s only inverted, and so I am the GIANT VACUUM that SUCKS UP BOTH. Still- despite my ferocity and seeming invulnerability, I am still a gloppy little fuzzy bunny who just wants to contribute her part to help us see the lifting off of the dark veil that has clouded Amerikaka’s vision. I remain committed to my vision of building an art army of costumed freaks ala Bunny Protest at Burning Man, Zombie Walk L.A., Critical Tits as a factor to block off city streaks so the freaks on the inside of the perimeter can drive the squares MAD!!!! Burning Man has gone sour, and it’s only a matter of time ‘til the freaks need new, closer, and less expensive places to have their voices heard. All of you who think Burning Man just sucked this year but will get better in the years to cum, you’re in for a rude awakening when you blow a wad next year for an even more commercial and voyeuristic event than this year’s so-called anarchist art party Howard-infested gridlock. I seek to make THE GRAND VISION of the NEW ARTISTIC FREEDOM OUTSIDE THE CONFINES OF BURNING ASS manithrusted through THE BAD BABYSITTER PROJECT- the fake authoritarian caretakers who can do whatever the fuck they want with their children, who are really adults dressed in costume acting in ways that God never intended. The Police and all the Art Nazis can try to stop us, only- WE’RE NOT LISTENING!!!!!! I’m 2 steps away from committing Satori on the entire L.A. “Underground” save for the few conspirators who still see the sparkling gem that I am in this city of whores and entertainment prostitutes. And for those people who have been inspired by me over the years, I highly encourage you to get on my art ship now before I abandon Amerikaka forever!! I am still open to inspiring all those hardcore mystery lovers, art fags, chaos magicians, and true turdly spirits who want to shake this shitty town up. Despite peoples’ fears of me wanting the whole show to be about me because of the tour d’ force that I can’t help being- MY GREATEST DESIRE is to use my own personal and magickal power to stream through me and into all those who are inspired by me so that I might eventually dissolve as a catalyst who helped spawned some the most revolutionary art battles our generation has ever seen. I could CARE LESS if I get credit for it or not. All I care about is the RESULT of THE LAW OF TIME EQUALING ART being made manifest in more peoples’ everyday waking realities. I say all this now- because I’m about to get seriously fucking famous, and the most grotesque thing I can imagine is all the people who were afraid of me all of a sudden kissing my ass and dying at the chance to artistically collaborate with me now that the general public says I’m cool. FUCK THE GENERAL PUBLIC!!!!! If you assholes can’t see the necessity of the vision I present, then you deserve all the cheap entertrainment your “free time” affords. Still- I know there are those of you out there who crave something, bigger, better, wetter, and infinitely more complex. And I want a personal message sent to my inbox from every single one of you who reads this and is down for the ARTISTIC REVOLUTION as seen through my enveloping alien eyes. First Stop? L.A. DECOM. Training ground? Top of the Hollywood Hills in me and General Pieutin’ Chief Tommy Bigs’ backyard. Time? Saturday, Oct. 13th, Red Electric Skywalker, one day before L.A. Decom. You know what the greatest thing about Kali is? You can’t shut her down- you can try- but she’ll just unexpectedly pop up somewhere else only to slay bigger and badder demons. So maybe this town isn’t ready to have its narcissistic blood sucked out. I will become a bigger and badder narcissist than all you mother fuckers and show you how a real superhero does it. Ooooo, who’s bad now? Not my baby. I hung him this morning over a bowl of skulls and cheerios. He was too expensive to take care of anyway.

Cyborg Sex Poetry

joanofart — Sun, 23 Sep 2007 19:04:05 GMT

Wither-scorned Jelly Donut DO NOT read the Road Signs!!! DO NOT put on your Socks before your Shoes!!! Peruse the ways to Cyberkinetically TeleFornicate While Cyborg Code reads on my Mind’s I Scry Number Sex and Betroth Seven to Six Heaven to Flex the Flick Flack Bo Bat Attack Stick the Wad of Chewed up Gum on Yummalotpuss’s dried up parts, my penis is withered and Tethered to Sublimitive Fantasm, Cyborgasm- the Convoluted Innervation of Fluid Fury and Dragon Cum Cum Cum Between my ears and Behind my eyes Drink the Cosmic Water from Dust Betwixt My Thighs

Space Napkin Surprise

joanofart — Mon, 30 Jul 2007 07:16:30 GMT

Red Overtone Earth- Last night, I learned to love my city again at Space Island. Amidst the hubbub of rub-a-dub thump thump cricus frenzy, I felt as though THIS was the social occasion I had been looking for in order to rectify my relationship with the world. That somehow in a red-lit gorge of hot gay boys and fantastic women cloaked in Jedi voodoo alien splendor, that there was a place for my heart to unfold onto itself like cheap psychadelic origami. Sweet sweet glittery yeast infection of the Nile valley. I do bequeef one cosmic vaginal blood fart to make all wrongs right like angry birds in flight. Prickly pearpottamus must I swallow dust to thrust involuntarily while cloaked ravens circle globularly through my mind's eye? When does this flock of birds pecking at all my insecurities part like the red-rum sea only pretty me was too busy with the mulatto Harlequin kitty to notice when things got shitty. So painful to swallow Such a joy to throttle Receptive nomad clad with earmuff receivers, satan's balls attached like alien antannae. I hate you, I love you, and what's the difference, really? I draw your sorrow song out of the well of musty misfortune and draw with it a fish's school spool of puddular possibilities. To know one dashed hope is to know three that were released with the smashing of the first. Sweet jelly jam of a flying man laying low, the demons are talking amongst themselves now, the raped avenger taken hellscroll high roller what's the toll to purgatory? Platonic friends bode well for me- erotic attraction turned inwards, rectifying artistic intestines and the melting red wax of all that old garbage as it slides, slithery-silenced towards its final destination- NOWHERE.

MAD HATTER UNBIRTHDAY BASH

joanofart — Tue, 16 Jan 2007 11:28:22 GMT

Alright bitches- you guys know the story. This is LOG AKA JOAN O' fArt, Mistress of Timeship Medusa and Mother of ALL MADNESS. I recently adopted a fairy alien of a creature named Miss Maggie, known to some as Maggot. She's the new punk rock fairy on the block, and SHE'S FUCKING HOT!!!!!!! She's the magenta haired circus freak apple of my eye who will take my place when I fake die. If you've seen her only once, you'd remember, 'cause everyone falls in love with her the SECOND they see her!!!! That's her special magic super power! AND GUESS WHAT???!!! She's turning 18 THIS FRIDAY and wants to have an UNBIRTHDAY party for EVERYONE ELSE!!!!!!!!!! Introducing........ ALICE IN FUCKED LAND MAD HATTER TEA PARTY Come and Drink Tea Coffee or Pee A Cup of Blood Or Maybe Mud Is All Your Life Will Ever Be Fallopian Tube Boob and Lube Potatoes aplenty and Sex with Trees!!!!!!! Miss LOG will be the MAD Hatter of the evening and considering the fact that she gave you all hats for Christmas, she expects that's you'll wear them for this special occasion!!!!!!!!!!!!! Interactive Punk Rock Theatre The Bad Babysitter Performance Art Project Circus Freak Señor Stretchy Skin 80s and Gothic After-Hours Dancing Live Bands: Fallopian Prognosis Negative Pirate Siren (with the craziest bloodiest London bitch whose bones I'd pick ANY DAY of the week) And listen.... just because she's legal now, don't think that I won't CHOP THE FUCKING HEAD OFF of any sex vampires who want a piece of my precious pixie. If you know what's good for you, you'll come and throw this mothership off course..... THIS FRIDAY JAN. 19th @ Cre8tivity 10PM-5AM or whenever $10 W/ a FUNNY HAT!!!! 13456 Washington Blvd. 2 blocks East of Lincoln Venice, CA Check out Maggie & Friends www.myspace/omgzzzzzzzz www.myspace/Cre8tivity

Today I Crapped out Fascism

joanofart — Sun, 10 Dec 2006 15:18:24 GMT

And so began Memoirs of a Gay Shit- the story of one literary turd after another. It all started with the Crap Poetry Movement via me and my fake husband Toylit (Curse that dirty porcelain slut for making me love him!) but it really reached new depths of depravity when I started logging in my turds according to the Crap Psychology Toylit caught wift of one day and made me start practicing. I found that it really actually worked, and was so simple. The tenents are thus: 1. Think of Lower qualities that you wish to crap out, say anxiety, judgement, depression, and set an intent to dump your psychic load right into the crapper. 2. Fully accept that you have had these feelings and that in whatever mysterious way they have served you, but no longer doo and set them free by way of poo. 3. Enjoy the feeling of your anus opening and being liberated as that non-nutritive substance burrows its way down into the cosmic sewer of fake love and lost dreams. This is your Destiny. Speaking of Destiny.... I just got back from Amsterdam after having bought two dildos and an anal douche. Why is it so hard to find a fucking enema bag in America? In this humble gay shit's opinion, this country is due for one giant mother fucking colonic. WHERE'S MY PLUNGER?????? They're selling mini-plungers at the 99 cent store these days, which make great fake microphones- but aren't especially useful in the crapper after you have shat out a particularly nasty bout of constipation. I imagine the gentlemen working at U.S. Customs could use an anal douche or two. They confiscated my lipgloss and undereye concealer because it was liquid that could have been laced with arsenic or had radio-controlled mini torpedos set to fly right into the YMCA's pool where an 80- year woman named Betty is doing the breast stroke as we speak. Poor, poor Betty. Side-note: If you're wondering why I might call myself a gay shit considering the fact that I am a mostly hetero woman who worships cock, (a highly select few, at least), it's because I am actually a gay man in diesel dyke's milkshake, err... root beer float, that is to say... I'm an well-communicated polyamorzonic monkey who once tried to lick her own twat and stick the labia together forever with superglue 'til death did they smart. And a happy marriage it was...until the fascists showed up. You see... I unsuspectedly landed in a Nazi gas chamber in the basement of a dilapidated Dutch mansion, where my destiny and fate as an international male model was secured. If that sounds crazy, consider this: It was only 5 months ago that I had written about my admiration for the sheer charisma it took Hitler to convince some of the most intelligent people in all of Europe to go on a killing spree for 1/3 of Europe's Jews. It was 2 months after that that my stint to pierce the mass media machine through America' Top Model got gilted, and only 3 months after that that I realized female models smoke cigarettes and don't eat. How am I gonna get to shit if I don't EAT?????????????

my birthday party!!!!

joanofart — Thu, 30 Nov 2006 00:15:38 GMT

Calling all freakers, streakers, and havoc wreakers! Come to my birthday party tonight at Cre8tivity!!! you know where it is. starts at 9. see you there!!! luv Joan o' fArt

HOORAY for ALieN YoGa!!!!!!!

joanofart — Wed, 25 Oct 2006 11:02:04 GMT

The Church of IZO Opening was a grand score for the Alien Agenda. The Fake Enlightenment collegiate tour is in the makings............ Amerikkka- HERE WE CUM!!!!!!!!!!

TIMESHIP MEDUSA seeks FREAKS for this Friday's Halloween Party!!!!!!

joanofart — Wed, 25 Oct 2006 09:38:39 GMT

Joan of f(ART) AKA LOG, you're favorite anarchist clownthing/ringworm leader/alien yoga doohickie, is looking for any last minute freaky performers who'd be interested in wreaking creative havoc this Friday at Cre8tivity, on Washington and Lincoln. I'm happy to put any weird performers, ie puppeteers, mimes, clowns, performance artists, anarchistic fuck turtles etc. on the guest list. (You'd be performing to live experimental music and visual projections). Contact me AND DRC, the event coordinator. Her email is drc0278@yahoo.com. Tribe name: DRC. For all you half-way there freaks (GOD LOVE YOU!!!!), come and be an extra in our costumed film production with live projections by A.D.D. THEATRE and Jedorwoski's Sante Sangre (The Mexican Transexual Circus Retard Murder Movie of ALL TIME) We need all the true blue and ranglefied freaks we can get at this time/space mothership. Let us wave the freakflag high as ever and unite the L.A. Underground in one giant coup de f(art)!!!! Let us bust out of the linear sense of time that is made manifeset through the standard creative programming of one band after another being an integral group of musicians/performers unto themselves and blocked into the artificial time of Babylonian pseudo art. Artificial time=Artificial Art. Real Art=Fake War. Fake War= A Really Fucking Good Time.... with PUMPKIN GUTS WRESTLING!!!!!!!!!The androgynous cyborg pirates are here to fly TIMESHIP MEDUSA, and we won't let anyone stop us until we've stolen the hole in America's lack of imagination!!!!!! Viva la Fake Revolution!!!!!!!! I want to "warn" you guys too, just in case I haven't made myself clear or have been covert about my intentions- that "The Bad Babysitter Project" is a performance art and musical fungus that invades other bands- which means you might have a passenger on the timeship or a costumed freak who happens upon you for an unexpected song or theatrical rendesvous. THAT MEANS YOU!!!!!!!! You never really know in the Plazmodium........... I can't wait to play with you all of you this Friday!!!! I have a trunk full of props waiting to be utilized by all the middle-aged drunken kindergartners who are going to be there! Truly and Turdly, Log AKA JOAN OF ART- The Bad Babysitter Project JOIN THE FAKE REVOLUTION TODAY!!!!!!! www.tribes.tribe.net/themaddening