Imagages of Dr. Chronos

From the Diary of Maria #2

The lesion on my forehead is getting more and more pronounced. It looks more like an organ. It feels more like an organ, it is producing discharge which is most definitely not the cebum and pus one expects to find in a wound. I don't know what is happening to me.

All I know is the I love Chronos.

Oh my god I love him. And he loves me. I can feel it in vomaronasal organ, so can the new ones. At least the females.

I am so beautiful, of that you can be sure.

It was once my goal, but now this is my weapon, my bait. To grow our cause, a cause I still do not understand.

Chronos says its about freeing humanity from its shackles, its small-mindedness, its present weakness.

He looks so deeply at me. I can feel him scanning my skin for fluctuations on the pores, for the tension fluctuations of my muscles, for my facial expressions. He sees every twitch, every secret. My own powers of hyper-awareness give me the same ability, though I have miles to go before I can do this on the same level as Chronos.

I still don't know his first name.

He says Chronos is the only name he needs because he is one with time itself.

Chronos also ate his children, of which I am the first. Yet as I look at his skin, his muscles flex in an unconscious tide, his face made a perfect statue by awareness, and I can taste his desire. His delicious desire.

I lick beneath my lip to feel this strange evolutionary relic so awakened in me. So awakened in all the women who have come to us.

Chronos does not just desire me. He worships me. I can feel it in his movements, I can feel it in the way he watches me.

At first we recruited the way he recruited me. We put the posters up, I learned that he was getting funding from feeding his trash to the pharmaceutical companies. Pheizer, Merc, they all paid for what Chronos did not see fit to use as solvent.

It was always about the injections. The RNA nanobots, little molecules chemically programed to create subtle connections between neurons, secret gradients of neurotransmitters on the membranes, allowing the body to achieve a holistic perception of self awareness, a 6th sense of self that became stronger with conscious practice and focus. BDNF helped as well, the little machines, love to grow new dendrites, new neurons even. I don't fully understand the effect. I don't think Chronos does either.

When I ask him about it, he paraphrases Nietzsche, "We must build our house on the steep face of Mt. Vesuvious."

The nanobots have a weakness though, they only work on the obese. Chronos thinks that self loathing does something to the body in its affects on physiological gradients, something so hollistic, so emergent, even with his astronomical powers of perceptive calculation he can not unlock it.

So we recruit the fat. Roller derby players and fans were a steady influx for the army Chronos would build. And it is definitely an army he is after.

We do not tolerate insolence, disobediance or weakness.

First they come to us. A room full of useless, sweaty, life wasters. Gorged on their own emotional shortcomings. Just as we were. Perfect conditions for the drug to work its magic.

We tried in on the beautiful. Chronos and I killed them for their failure. They would simply be rejected by the drug, as if they lacked some component, some substance floating in their nervous systems. We made love still covered in their blood, musing about the nice effect that its thermal conductivity had on our embrace. He loved me. He loved me like Prometheus loved fire. And I love him, like a nun loves Christ.

At first they are confused. Overwhelmed by the initial intoxication by the nanobots.

But inside of each of them there is a great tweak on the chemical equilibrium of their bodies. Each of them carries an indestructible flame of rage. No matter how strong, the RNA nanobots thrive in it. It allows them to milk more BDNF, something to do with with the amygdale. Two lovely little brain structures, the almonds of terror and rage. This is what we think seperates the fat ones from the thin, they have suffered more, stronger output of the amygdale. Their milk is the stuff of memory, and memory is the stuff of new neurons. The cornucopia our nanobots require. The nanobots somehow enhance the molecules, make them more efficient, and receptive. We are still studying how this is done.

They grow stronger. Sometimes they are terrified. Then they realize that they can become beautiful at will. That they can accomplish all of the potential of the human body with no other cause other than will. They jump to the walls and perform acrobatics. They demonstrate feats of strength and endurance. Marveling like children at an amusement park. And one by one, they begin to show the very same lesion as I do.

Right on the forehead.

More of an organ than a lesion, the soldiers with their newly trained awareness report the same. It is an organ of some kind, not a wound. We can all feel it.

When they resist, or are slow in their advancement they are punished by me. It is no easy task mind you, it is humanity at all apex. Even the weak among us are stronger than the strongest people.

With a brutal beating. Combination of roller derby and growing up punk rock makes me a dangerous bitch. My hyper awareness is far more advanced than theirs. And Chronos is far more advanced than mine. In fact I am quite sure that Chronos is advancing beyond a human threshold of other kinds, I fear as physics is not my strong suit.

But there is so much love, that I can only trust him in this mission.

I tell him my fears, that this could destabilize us, make us have side effects. I even question if our violence is not an obvious sign of some kind of psychiatric side effect.

He laughs.

"Humanity at its finest must be a race of warriors my love, in some ways it must appear backwards, primordial... this is to appeal to the deepest human instincts. As we achieve perfection, triage must occur, and in triage we must become stronger."

Such perfect logic. As to the prospect of side effects he merely says, "There is no turning back now."

The mission is simple, we build our tribe and we begin to apply our hyper powered brains to restructuring and governing humanity. The final revolution, one made of a biochemical philsophers stone. The ultimate coup 'et tat, against the tyranny of the genome. We were moving in steps that were beyond history.

I couldn't deny it.

Humanity would have to be seized and remade in our image. No matter what the cost.

So the work must continue, new recruits, and training.

Chronos is doing the scam less and less, he doesn't do the speaking any more. He leaves us to it. Its easy, as the nanobots empower our nervous systems we attain a mental superiority equal to our physical. The brain is after all part of the body. We become charismatic, charming, persuasive, as our neurons sharpen themselves on the drug.

Chronos has begun this strange practice. He sits in a room full of clocks and watches. Of all kinds. He buys them, he steals them, he kills for them. Hour glasses, grandfather clocks, rolexes, dollar store watches, sun dials, all chronometers. At first I think its some sort of vanity, or marketing campaign based on his name, but then the lesion, i mean the organ, began to react.

When Chronos is around the clocks, he stares at them some times, and when I have been around him doing this, the organ feels like its swelling, or twitching, and I experience some new intoxication. One I don't fully understand. Chronos is doing something with the clocks, something inside himself, and i can feel it. Or rather see it. Its actually very difficult to describe.

From the Diary of Maria

December 12,
I love roller derby.

I so glad that I got over my inhibitions and joined the Oak Cliff Rolling Razors. I had been on the sidelines for years as my closest frien, Paulina, had become a star player. She looked so beautiful and so tough as she sped along the track.

Boys thought she was hot and women wanted to be her. She was like a real life superhero. Like Wonder Woman.

I took to it naturally, both a good Jammer and a good Blocker. Meaning I could make those bitches eat my dust, and I could stop them from getting a point.

This allowed our team to play more with strategy, and lo and behold we are winning.

But unfortunately at 225 lbs. no boys want me, and no girls want to be me. I look more like a fat ugly super villain than I do a beautiful super hero like Wonder Woman.




December 14,

Apparently just trying to diet based on what I know about nutrition is not working.

You would think, since I am almost done with nursing school, that I would have this shit together.

I do not.

I try to order the veggie burger, but when I do I get more fries an hour or so later, and dessert.

I try to choose a salad, but in case you haven't noticed, the salads usually don't have the little diet symbol on the restaurant menu. No deep fried, caramelized, lathered with cheese salads are very very fattening.

Picked up a flyer today at Cafe Brazil, it said "Counter Culture Meditation Diet" what a weird fucking thing to put on a flyer. What do they do? Drop acid and learn about annorexia. So strange.

The guy who runs it claims to be a Ph.D. I bet he got his Ph.D. on e-bay, what a douchebag.

He did have the goth boy pretty good looks. His before picture was disgustingly fat.

Way worse than me.

Way, way worse than me.

He looked like Trent Reznor from Nine Inch Nails crossed with Antonio Banderas. Very nice. And not doubt, a worthless money grubbing piece of shit.

December 17

I am having some kind of fucking break down.

I can't stop eating.

Its like the more I see the beautiful girls from the Roller Razors, the more I feel trapped inside myself, the more I eat. I am eating like the murder victim on 7. Oh, God.

I don't know what to do.

I am hiding in my car and eating, so no one ever sees me eat. But I am eating more than ever.

I tried throwing up. I figure if I can just go bulimic this will be alright. But it hurts to throw up. It hurts more than getting fucking socked by enemy roller girls. I can't do it. I wish I could just throw up.

I have to do something. Or I am going to kill myself.

December 20,

Found a new flyer. The so called goth doctor says he will do it for free if people qualify. He says he is doing it as a scientific study.

I am a nurse after all. If he's full of shit I will know.

I can always leave.


December 23

Dr. Chronos is Amazing.

He just says things that make me know that I can take control. I have only been practicing his meditation diet for a couple of days. Its definitely a legit scientific study. He has a lab, its fully staffed, it seems all of the subjects are women. This is not so unusual many medical studies control for gender at first.

He gave me an injection. Smiling his beautiful smile, "You never know, it could be the placebo."

Since I told him I was a nurse he has been very open with me about the study. He says he has discovered some RNA based fat burning tool. He says it interacts with the neurotransmitter BDNF, which makes nerves grow, burn fat on targeted spots.

Thats the best part of the whole thing. He teaches you how to target the locations for weight loss.

There are a few tricks to it.

He tells you you have to breathe like a metrognome, be very conscious of the passage of time by focusing your awareness on the breath. Its almost impossible, except for when he is around.

Oh my god, he is so amazing.

And the best news is I have already lost 20 lbs.

I am not kidding at all 20lbs . In two days.

He tells us we have to capture thoughts as if they were butterflies, to catch them in the palm of our hand, then he has us do some tai-chi pantomime that mocked catching a bug with your hand.

I know I do not have the placebo, who had ever heard of losing 20 lbs in two days.

The strangest thing is I can feel the drug. And with the meditation techniques I can really control it.

I am a little afraid because it really is like your talking to your body, and making wishes about how it should look, and your body starts to do things against its nature to make your wish come true. I hope this isn't dangerous.

But it is 20 lbs. in two days.

Dr. Chronos has FDA approval for human trials. I asked to see the paperwork.

Those are difficult to get, and I know what they look like.

December 25,

I am with Dr. Chronos now, he is sitting behind me, holding me, watching me write this.

I am afraid. He knows I am afraid.

He does not care.

There is a strange lesion forming on my forehead. I don't know what it is. I know its a side effect of the drug. I am its first success story. At least thats what Chronos tells me.

He says that he loves me. Against all better judgement, I love him. I really love him. Catholic love of husband and wife, like the kind I learned at my mother's knee. He is my husband, but I fear that I will be but one of many wives.

He holds me close, he says that he gives himself to me. That others may get a taste, but I am the one who truly possesses him. This makes me feel great warmth. A warmth which I know is the drug, and I can feel it spiraling towards the lesion.

The thing about the drug though is that I truly believe I see reality with it, and I was like a blind slug on the afterbirth without it.
I can hear my cells. They do nothing without my permission.

Chronos and I are surrounded by textbooks. He says that as my consciousness learns what to look for my unconscious physiology will begin to connect more specificially.

Even after two years of nursing school, there are more marvels in the body than you can imagine.

Ask me my weight, I wish I had more than just paper to ask that.

I am now 135 lbs. My exact goal weight. I am as beautiful as I had hoped.

I know because I can sense Dr. Chronos's hormonal changes with what he tells me is my vomeronasal organ. This is one of those strange body parts I have had to learn in order to take advantage of my new inner sight. The vomeronasal organ has been debated for years in science, whether or not it still exists in humans. It is our pheromonal perception organ, it allows me to taste the desire of men. On the inside of my upper lip.

Chronos has great desire for me. Superhuman desire.

I guess we are both superhuman.

I guess I am Wonderwoman after all.

The End of Day 3

Now I tasted from the fountain of youth.

Something that conquistadors bled for, that alchemist stole for, I tasted at the end of three days of fasting.

I had felt my blood from so long ago. Pumping hot, full of rage, full of knowledge.

As sped forward in time I felt the rapid progressions of the particles of nature like shivers in my spine. Flash forward, reliving my life in rapid succession, harnessing all the molecules of my mind to focus on the grail that I had travelled time to capture. The rage of youth, what precious promethean fire.

I had discovered super powers, made myself beautiful at will, and travelled time only to force myself into a state of midlife crisis. Yet it is this state of midlife crisis which is necessary to do anything of consequence. The rage of youth is the stuff of arrogance, and arrogance is the stuff of kings.

When I was once again in the presence it was 72 hours to the microsecond from when the trance had begun. I was thin. I was beautiful. I had the fire of my youth.

My clothes had all fallen off, as it was clothes for a man 3 times my size, and I needed quickly to adapt.

I walked down the street to find a young man, handsome and stylish in the present chic. He was perfect for what I required of him. His clothes, his money, his life.

He was trying not to look at me. Nude in public, not so strange in my metropolis. We have drug addicts and mad men just like everyone else.

I could read his microexpressions, little super-fast clenches of his facial muscles, telling me what his neurons tried to keep secret inside his skull. My prey thought I was a drug addict. He was in a hurry, trying to avoid whatever nonsense I would bring.

I grabbed his arm.

"Let the fuck go of me you junkie!" he hollered. A true native.

I allowed my grip to connect, using my meta-awareness of my molecular structure to read his muscles. My body was a weapon now, far more than the average person. I read his skin cells like the blind reading braille. Thousands of little twitches, sweat, the movement of hair follicles, all telling me where to strike, where my victim was weak. All in a time spanning less than five seconds.

As marvellous as my ability to control my body was, my ability to see the second for what it truly is was far greater. Each second is an eternity.

I struck him with my leg on the hindpart of his knee. Bringing down this genetic masterpiece to the ground.

The look of terror on his face as he fell powerless was accentuated by my ability to see all the expressions his face found in the moments.

I fell upon him with a perfect grasp of gravity, my forearm on his throat.

I watched his eyes bulge as his gasps could not find breath.

I smiled. It was like watching a fish on dry land. A failure of evolution, just like this amazing specimen.

Briefly I contemplated not killing him.

What nonsense, I had to kill him. It was the necessary fuel for my fire I had fought so hard to bring. My fire of youthful rebellion. My ancient rage.

If I walked away from him without taking his life, without completing my purification, I would just be some freak. Some phenomena of the new age. What impotence!

I looked into his eyes, carefully watching the artful struggle of the pupil as the brain loses its grip.

My victim was as beautiful in the moment as he was alive.

His clothes fit my new body perfectly.

Day 3:2

Oh adolescence. My beautiful adolescence.

I remember it well.

My rage against the esteemed Dr. Chronos, my father, was unquenchable.

I did everything I could to inspire disappointment. Concern. Confusion.

Why did I do this to my own father. Because he did this to me by separating me from my mother in Chile. My holy and sacred mother, permanently the image of the glorious Madonna in my mind.

My father had brought me to the U.S., from my mother's arms because this is where our future stood. This was a land not choked by the dictatorship of Pinochet, where an intellectual could still advance. My father's hiring by the U.S. CDC was an act of espionage. Political exile gained by one leftist scientist for another, but the U.S. immigration law was not kind to a man who could not marry the mother of his child due to the fact he was in hiding.

My mother was abandoned. He married an american.

Fuck him!

At least thats how I felt at the time. I was relieving this through my time travel ability, given to me by the meditation diet. I felt adrift in the deterministic sea. Molecules colliding with molecules and harmonizing each step which the ones recalled by my memory.

It is only through the meditation diet that we attain free will. Without it we are just the victim of molecular billiards.

If Dr. Chronos wanted america I would become America. It was in this state of mind that I found the punk subculture.

I rode the frenzy. I felt like a god on his path to valhalla.

Now, 16 years later, I know that I was right.

I had recently been molested by neighbor, this only fed my rage. But the target of all my rage was my father.

When I started self mutilating and snorting cocaine in the house, he got me a therapist. My step-mother and he pretending to understand the maelstrom in my mind, with a therapist who's IQ. was an abyss beneath my own. I had just discovered GG Allin, I knew what to do: I began to masturbate throughout the therapy sessions. I claimed to have been adbucted by UFOs.

It was glorious.

When this situation escalated my father threatened to kick me out of the house and entered a strange silence. I threatened to kill him with a knife, he remained purely stoic.

I began to sell drugs, started a gang. We called ourselves traditional skinheads. Non racist skinheads who live for the violence and madness of skinhead culture without even racism as a cause.

I was pure muscle in those days. For one reason only, to feel the carnal matter of my opponent crushed beneath my boot.

My crew was strong, though the insane were attracted to it. Compulsive liars, people who live in a perpetual fantasy world. Rapists, a truly disgusting sort, for all of my hatred I tried to police this crime among my men. We mostly needed only to threaten to wield our power, so we would fight one another, like Spartans in training.

Yet I never had the courage to follow through with all this. When one of our burglaries turned into my arrest I became cowardly.

It was at this moment that the softness came upon me.

I had forgotten what I once was.

The diet was showing me this. The diet by uniting my mind and body with the disgust of one for the other, the diet which is pure hyper-awareness, had somehow given me the gift to travel back in time.

To regress, not just in a vision, but literally.

It was then that my families greek name shone with irony. I was Chronos, the god of time.

Day 3:1

On the dawn of the third day I had grown completely thin.

My hair had also grown long, and so had my fingernails and toenails. My body produced a smell as though it had been driven for years without bathing. It was truly pungent.

I knew that above all I had to teach this great meditation diet to others. To share its marvelous power and to see those encased in their wombs of fat freed to be something so much more. To truly know their bodies. To not live in dualistic denial.

To see the many freed.

But why did my body yearn for this so strongly.

What beckoned to me to be so connected. My state was perfection. I was in perfect harmony with every cell in my body. I could hear clearly in my mind the melody that causes enzymes to dance. I could feel the charges of each individual molecule in my temple, and I could transcend so many of the limitations of time.

I knew that the search for the muses revealed the only possible great cause in life. Yet I yearned, even now for others. To save others. To see others transformed and reborn, fully aware of their own flesh.

As the sun rose I slowed down time again.

I felt the tender wash of the photons cause the gentle release of my pineal gland. My third eye. Once thought of my Descartes to be the throne of the human soul.

I slowed it down more and more, beyond the perception speed of my eyes. I embraced the great and terrible nanosecond.

And then without warning I was moving backwards through time.

There was something automatic about my regress. Though as a scientist I know that my only true power was to escape the automatic in all regards, to become a creature of pure will, right down to the organelles of my cells. Yet this was automatic.

Like a reflex, the seconds moved backwards. Slowly at first. I felt my nails and hair begin to shorten. Then it sped up more, and more, and more increasing velocity at a rapid state. With horror I felt the fat cells swell with the excess of the horrible hydrocarbon tails of fat, only the automatic grip of this demonic time travel prevented me from flexing at an ultra-rapid rate to escape this cocoon.

In flashes that felt like lashes of a whip I relived my divorce, my marriage, my education, my adolescence. This was my first clue.

I landed in my adolescence like a meteorite giving birth to a crater. Yet my will was meaningless. The causal sea had already taken its grip. It was as if I was in a stranglehold of inertia. I had to relive it as I had done so in the first place.

At least in my youth I was thin again.

Day Two: 3

I call it the meditation diet for many reasons.

One, because I was able to teach it to others who suffered from the disease of obesity. I was able to take others who had suffered the isolation as I had suffered it and teach them to be perfectly aware of their bodies and finally escape their prisons.

I call it this because I now realize that in principle it is the same effect described in most eastern meditation traditions, especially the Zen tradition. I now know that this was my first encounter with the muses. My first muse was my obsession with weakness, and how to escape it.

For some reason, that I have not yet discovered, this muse came upon me and caused me to completely gain perfect awareness and control of my own body. Right down to the molecular components that make my cells.

This awareness allowed me to access my avatar (my mental projection of myself) and through him control my body. My avatar is nothing more than a mental projection of myself, created within my own mind to guide me into this perfect understanding and use of my body.

This is the meditation diet. In all of its simplicity, to become so disgusted with oneself that you become totally self aware. Cell by cell, neuron, by neuron, protein by protein, charge by charge.

Without the disease of obesity, I cannot offer this self awareness rapidly. It is as if the anxiety of great fatness has its own particular frequency which I have somehow learned how to access and grant great power.

The power over one's own body.

The moment my avatar guided me to the greatest possible division of time I perceived, for the very first time, the muses.

The muses are difficult to describe.

In essence they are nothing more than the unconscious factors which motivate human behavior. Condensed in ultra efficient nodes, which we can think of as archetypes.

Archetypes can be loosely defined, as it once was by the strange psychologist Carl Jung, as concepts and trends in human beliefs that seem to transcend culture and time.

Jung may have been wrong about much, but in the slowing down of time, and with the most amazing ability to perceive my inner workings so precisely I saw them.

They stretched out like whole notes, carrying all of the melody of my higher consciousness.

They were made mostly of the emotional storm which raged in my midbrain, my limbic system, the inner brain structures which are known to cause our emotions.

Yet they have crucial feedback from higher centers.

The muses.

Like Jung's archetypes they are varieties of self projections. The hero, all of them from Luke Skywalker to Jason and the Argonauts. The great sage: from Merlin to Marx.

The adversary: from Satan to Loki to Osama bin Laden.

The human drive rode the synaptic tide of the muses. I only perceived them for a moment, and I became passionately committed to unlocking their secrets.

Did they evolve? Did everyone have them? Did they have a life of their own? Where they just artifact and I was mistaken about their causal role in human motivation?

I would not perceive the muses again, as the nano-second perception was difficult to hold. I was not adept enough yet. I still had work to do.

As I recoiled from the great force of will I became aware of my avatar once again.

My avatar was at perfect peace, like an ancient Egyptian Sarcophagus, golden and imminently present.

"Are you a muse?" I asked.

"Of sorts," answered my avatar, "You can think of me as your realization of your own potential."

"I am what happens when you catch a glimpse of yourself as a god."

It was when my avatar said this that I walked into him, instantly facing the greatest amount of harmony.

At first it was a difficult fit, like the collapse of virginity.

Then, moment by moment, my self-awareness was amplified. I no longer needed my avatar. I was my avatar.

I sat, in a Dallas alleyway, in the lotus posture. And I felt my enzymes dance for hours and hours.


In only two days time the meditation diet had taken me to the elevation of a god.

Day Two: 2

"Behold the nanosecond!" Says to me my avatar. He indicates in my mindscape to another icon of an hour glass. 

He says to me, "This is our basal ganglia, it will help us see what you must to speak the language of our neurons."

"What is it that I need to see?" You need to see in nanoseconds, otherwise your full potential will never be realized."

I touched the hourglass, suddenly I became aware of the infinite divides to be found in a moment. It was as if I had slowed down time, always dividing by two the pace of the turtle which outruns Achilles in Xeno's paradox. Each moment divided into two moments, the two new moments divided into two new moments, and so forth in a self similar spiral that virtually allowed me to stop time. 

"We have not stopped time," says my avatar, "we are merely paying close attention to its passage."

"But even now we only see the tip of the iceberg, do you feel what you are doing?"

I did. I could feel it precisely, but as each moment I gained more and more control of the individual cells of my brain I found it more and more difficult to know how to communicate what I was experiencing. 

"I am harnessing the rhythms of firing in the basal ganglia regions of my brain, and enhancing the perception of small increments of time, I have reached a 300 millisecond threshold."

"300 milliseconds is not bad." responded the avatar, "you have divided each second into 3 major experiential units of time, you can see a thousand times more than the average person."

I suddenly went back to my eyes, and saw the world around me. I had already lost an incredible amount of weight from the intense work I had given my muscles. 

I saw the light pouring in beams in the streets around me, which I had been wondering around in throughout this whole experience. I could see cars moving as though they were slow elephants migrating across the savannah, I could see the texture of the tires as they spun. I looked and saw that all birds looked as though they were gliding. 

In my mind my Avatar spoke, "I will show you how to slow it down until you see the photons strike the surface."

Then I felt my hand upon the hourglass I had envisioned in my mind. I was absorbed by it, it was as if I was suddenly a grain of sand falling through it. Slowly crashing towards an ocean of sand, and as I struck the other grains I saw it. The great synapse. 

The synapse is the space in between two neurons. In this space all messages spoken by brain cells and nerve cells are sent. 

"How am I seeing this?" I asked. 

"You are experiencing it holistically, it is kind of like squinting your eyes so that the contrast becomes more prominent. We have tricked our basal ganglia into bringing us into a state where we are squinting our perception of time. Ironically, it is more like we have panned out than closed in, but here you are."

"Can you feel it?" he asked. 

I could. Countless little magnetic tugs, pulling this way and that. It was the charges surrounding me in the lagoon of thoughts, the neurotransmitter molecules spat out by one neuron to be lapped up by the next where all around me. Each one having its own unique electrical signal based on which regions of it lean positive or negative in charge. This difference of charges is how the neurons know which  neurotransmitters to consume and which to reject. 

"Focus!" shouted my Avatar! With great intensity. 

I looked at his face, it was as if it had been taken over by demons. Suddenly I had a brief moment of religious terror, I was wrong: God was real and I was in hell!

"NO!" Roared my Avatar. "FOCUS!"

He slapped my face, I felt all of my neurons shift. 

I looked at him and returned his rage. Suddenly were locked in a mutual desire for destruction, wrath, flowing in a continuous circuit between us. 

"YES!" He spoke as his eyes began to appear as if he were filled with light and it was pouring out, and suddenly I could see myself from his eyes, and I looked the same. 

"Now we feel them, are they not overwhelming and majestic?"

I could feel them. I could feel them tugging at my very existence, as if I was using them to hold my atoms together. This was a frightning realization as I was moving atoms at will, shifting the charges of my neurotransmitters, shifting the charges of the receptor channels of my brain cells to make them grab the neurotransmitters of my own choosing. I felt infinite power! But I was unaware of the source. 

"Yes you feel them, behold..... the muses!"

Day Two: 1

It was on the second day, in which I ate no food. Like Christ on his fast of 40 days. This was only the second day of my Experience, but when it came it lasted for an eternity. It was on this day that I discovered both of my powers. 

My powers are but the blooms of the meditation diet. And my powers, like the powers of all of who have power are only only piercing a thin veil into the true source. The true source is the muses. 

But forgive me, to think of this day, the day of the Experience causes my perception of time to be blurred. And my perception of time is very very powerful. 

Let us remember this day together. You can join me in your own neurons. 

I was overwhelmed by the tragedy of my corpulence. My fatness. How funny it must sound. The man who was so fat and how horrible his life was. But in my fat cells were carried a thousand scrolls of my failures. 

All of the times I was weak and driven to overeat, all the times I felt so battered by life that I felt I needed endless eating to heal my traumatic wounds. Fatness, the fear of it causes the mental disorders bulimia and anorexia nervosa which can occasionally be fatal. 

This fatness and intense focus on it. A mind shattering focus evidently. Because for a day I could not do anything, but sit still in a sea of my yearning. I was tossed to and fro by the intense impulses of my hypothalamus (the brain region devoted to basic body functions-including hunger and thirst) and the impulses of my amygdala (the emotional region, deeply connected to memory). 

In this intense awareness it was as if my cells of my body came together in my mind and screamed in horror, screamed at me, threatening to kill me, to tear me apart, and I knew this was not an illusion. I had had some terrible accident, some storm of brain activity like a stroke, or a massive seizure, my brain was breaking, it was going to blow. 

Then from the see of calm I saw Him. My Body. My Angel. 

He said hello "Dr. Chronos,  do you remember me?"

His appearance in my mind was at first hazy, then I saw that he was every cell the same as me. 

What was intensely overwhelming was the sense of familiarity. In my youth I was deeply Catholic, until my education in science took that from me. I believed in the guidance of the Saints, the blessed conception by Holy Mary and the resurrected Lord Christ who absolved humanity of all evil if they will but cling to him. What beautiful days those were. 

In this youth I had a vision of an Angel. The Angel was of a strange name I could not pronounce, but he always guided me. He would tell me he was an emissary of the Holy Ghost. That he was my very Ghost. My soul. Of this I was now sure. 

"No, Chronos..." he said in a hertz and frequencies so perfectly attuned to my ear anatomy, " ...I am not your Ghost... I am your body."

"You have just suffered a "mental breakdown," or an awakening as the ancients called it. Your brain was so consumed with suffering that like any crucified saviour, or Buddha at the crisis of his meditations, or like the suffering Saints which learn to transcend the pain itself that it became intensely self-aware." 

"You and I are the precipitate of intense parallel processing. You are beholding a mirror, I am your body and through me you can control it cell by cell and see the muses."

"What is this you keep saying about the muses?" I responded in the tranquil sea of synaptic brain activity, "...this sounds other worldly, I am an atheist."

He spoke again, though it is difficult to describe this interaction as though words were somehow really involved. It was a different level of communication, my ears were active, as was my temporal region in general, but no words were ever spoken. 

"It is not otherworldly at all, the muses are the interface between humanity and what drives it to such marvelous levels of activity. They are easily observed, they are no more controversial than the notion that wires and fiber optics can give rise to your computer. They are components that exist in a natural world, nothing more, but when the human brain hits the right frequencies with them, something amazing happens."

"It is happening to you right now."

Suddenly I was racing. Racing through my blood vessels, in the lightning of the synapse. The synapse is the method by which brain cells communicate. They release tiny little molecules who interact in a beautiful statistical dance of charges. I could feel every charge, I could start to influence little factors, like the distribution ratios, which neurons spoke to which neurons, and through that all cells. Especially muscles, who share neurons use of electricity to function. I could instantly force each of my muscles to flex. To flex enough to lift 300 lbs. if I merely wished it. 

The meditation diet suddenly forced my fat to start melting away through rapidly enhanced metabolism. 

Then he spoke again, "Think of me as an Icon on your computer, the brain wizard if you will, I will guide you on how to use your body with total control, then we must take a look at the muses and see where they guide Us."

It was then that I began the steep ascension that still guides my every breath!

The Great and Holy Meditation Diet

* From the diary of Dr. Chronos, the scourge of Lubbock

My story begins encapsulated in failure, grief, and distress. 

When I realized what had to be done was months after loved had failed me. Like it had so many times before. The details don't matter the outcome is always the same. You are found after much trial and error to be disappointing. In the end any empathy you have for the other person is met with an impenetrable wall where once there was purest asylum and bliss. 

Love and its loss is like watching everything you love turn to stone. You become Medusa and are prisoner to her curse. 

When this happens to me, I have always tended to fall apart at the seams. 

I become weak and degenerate and I eat like some kind of goblin under the bed. In greatest distress and in utter solitude I pursued food, buffet's, fast food, Chinese takeout. Nothing glorious, nothing gourmet, only gluttony. 

The terrible gluttony eventually makes me lethargic and incapable of pushing myself. To say I wallowed like a pig in filth would be to dishonor pigs by the comparison. I was an obese melancholy pile of weakness trapped in a prison of his own softness. This is how my story began those few years ago. The story of how I became the great and terrible force I am now. 

My thoughts hit like hail constantly reminding me of how disconnected I was from everyone. My family far and gone from me, abandoning me to a strange world. No woman could comfort me, or understand me. I would always be embraced under false pretenses and rejected when the truth was found out. The only thing that made the pain stop was to feed the relentless craving for food. 

One day as I walked in vein trying to exercise away the disgusting excess it dawned on me. 

I was inside an egg. 

A huge disgusting fleshy egg. The egg was cushioning with many layers of gross fat tissue, swollen yellowish fat cells, overwhelmed with the indulgences of modernity. Deep inside this gelatinous hell lived a creature in metamorphosis. 

This creature was not Kafka's insect to end in the grips of tragedy, no this was a creature born of lightning. This creature was a messiah, an antichrist, a fire breather, a buddha, a glorious mage, a masterful alchemist, a hero, a villain, an alpha and an omega. 

This one realization shattered my mind. 

I did not eat for 3 days. 

In those 3 days the first was the worst. The dreams of all of my vices engulfed my mind like water engulfs a drowning man.  The flavors of all manner of breading, deep friend meats, overwhelmed my mouth, that day I must have recycled my fluids twice over in pure salivation. It was as if one of my humors was against me. The fantasies and cravings never ceased but I could not act on them. I could do nothing but walk and watch my thoughts. 

These thoughts were there for my benefit, yet they had somehow escaped my control. 

The whole thing overwhelmed me. I must have felt like ancient homonids as they first observed fire. 

The fire was before them, and for them, but they were at the beginning of a long journey of control. Now we have harnessed the power of fire to the point we can harmonize with the sun in the act of nuclear fusion. 

This is how I was before my thoughts. 

Pseudonym

I am blogging now with a pseudonym.

I love blogging and have done so historically, but this has threatened me in my professional life.

I belong to a proffession where unconventional and unorthodox thinking are perceived as a threat to stability and professionals are discouraged from voicing unorthodox opinions. Of greater concern my profession is one of the ones which has recently taken up the habit of spying on its employees and making sure they do nothing unseemly in the internet.

So I have created this blog so that I can continue to share my thoughts, unfiltered and unrestrained.

This will be an interesting exercise since I have generally used my blogging as a way to boost my own self image, to communicate who I am to people. Anonymity has never been my style.

This will be no more.

My true identity must remain a mystery. Enrique Recuero is the ubermensch who lives inside me, the triumphant voice of my will, eager to shout from the roof tops like a prophet. Only Enrique Recuero is not a prophet in the sense that he speaks for any God. There is no God.

The sooner we can move past the infantile fantasy that we have some caring father in the sky eager to cradle us like babies for eternity the better.

An elementary study of astronomy will reveal us that the sky is hostile to life and the further one strays into the cosmos, the more dilute the presence of life.

Life is here and now, and requires passion, courage, and a refined connection to the will.

All other practices of life are misfires, irresponsible wastes of consciousness, causing more drain on humanity then benefit.

Thus speaks Enrique Recuero.

My mighty pseudonym.