Monday, April 5, 2010

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.

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