Sitting here alone on Christmas was an inspiration this year. For the first time in many years I spent many days thinking of my hometown and the people I grew up with in Cozy Corner – a tiny suburb of farms between La Grange and Weimar, TX in notorious Fayette County. You might recall that the Chicken Ranch, otherwise known as the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, was an ongoing operation until 1973 in this little town.
For over a year I have been on a daunting search for a woman here in Las Vegas. This holiday the closest I came to either my family in Texas or the one I imagine here in Nevada was the blue sky walls pocked with corny comebacks and reverberations of polka bass coming from outside. (The paint color I chose, coincidentally, was called “Cozy Corner”).
ZZ Top sang about the Chicken Ranch and my hometown in their hit song “LaGrange”. Funny then that I’ve heard the original spelling of my former last name was “Fizzam.” The only thing known about where our genealogy line comes from is a group of orphans found during the Prussian War. Kelly has a unique name structure as well. When you run it together (kellyyvonne) you can see “YY” in there.
If a “ZZ” is on top then would that indicate a pendulum swing when she and I are finally reunited? If so, it indicates the best possible outcome for a world of scaredy cats puzzled by “apocalypse.” Continuity of Life.
“Meet me out past the Cottonwoods were we ran as kids. Straight out past the cemetery where the river turns to ditch.”
– Doug Wilson, Gin Blossoms
Song lyrics are literally a portion of the Hall of Records. As art which inspires emotional response, informs in word, imparts meaning, interprets through movement and leads through role modeling and metaphor the art of song and musicians records the truth of moments in history in most of the facets it can be understood by similar beings – humans and their souls.
In the most sincere and truthful songs the lyrics will not only resonate truths outward into society like a miracle, but also backward truth and forward expectation of truth through time. Being in tune, or in synchronicity, with Earth and on your personal Graal path of artistry is all one needs to communicate in this way. To confuse this with being an entertainer, by the way, is to deny paths of every other artistry.
In the quote above, from the song “South of Nowhere,” the Gin Blossoms are so truthful they are telling a bit of my real history. I met Kelly in childhood where the Colorado River winds past old farms, an out of place new rental home with a pool, Cottonwood trees, and small family cemeteries. I cant corroborate this yet. She’s still sequestered from the Garden.
“…when I was a child I had a fever. My hands felt just like two balloons.”
– Pink Floyd
When these lyrics were penned they could not have known it, but when I was 19 years old I had dyshydrosis which turned into a major infection on my hands. They looked like inflated hospital gloves. I had to spin around like Wonder Woman to keep blood running into them when they grew cold and numb.
“A dreaded sunny day so I’ll meet you at the cemetery gates. Keats and Yeats are on your side.” “…but you lose. ‘Cause weird lover Wilde is on mine. Sure”
– The Smiths
Keats and Yeats were poets and Golden Dawn members. KY is the initials of my love. (Kelly Yvonne Zuniga. Divorced name: Goldman) They speak the meaning of being opposed to the one on the side of kidnappers as well as in my particular situation’s missing person. Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde is WW which upon inspection forms three pyramids.
Wonder Woman, Woodrow Wilson and in the opposite sex MM creates the downward force – yin – in theory. But a permutation with a transgender person in LOVE will not only be a bond that lasts for life because it is graced. It’s also potentially two yangs instead of a yin-yang pair. It’s lifelong love and improvement of the artistic talent. It is not magic. It’s LOVE. It cannot be achieved with confidence alone through theft or kidnapping or temptations paid to misguide her. Only those honoring agreements to do so achieve some measure of temporary success in that regard.
Kelly Yvonne was an MM at birth. She’s my Wonder Woman now. Call me, Croco-dial-dial-dial.
“… and a partRidge in a pair tree…”
The Abyss is a hoax. We can close it if we choose to close it.
If the appearance of audio torture that coincides with the disappearance and, in my case, the willful con of my girlfriend to make her scared to talk to me for no reason after months of love poetry were sent to her, were to be taken from the exterior of the Garden of Eden creative space the natural situation of healing the relationship would result in a metaphor of forgiveness and charity to a person who felt an inordinate amount of society’s trauma. Since “she” represents the zeitgiest it would move an Earth synchronicity in the “avatar” to a modern society synchronicity while moving her back off of that shallow edge of the sea. A meeting in the middle whose vibration would be remembered throughout life and, most likely, throughout a lifetime of marriage as a result of achievements made together during the experience. This is what the assholes of the illuminati and babalon dogmas take away when they believe in that useless bullshit.
Whomever conditions and moves Scarlet Women is a sinister S.O.B that must be eliminated from the situation. The Earth chooses the person, the Earth provides the Grace, the Earth provides the gifts to heal what the depression indicated was the greatest love of the person’s life – the woman now vilified as an excuse to take her. You mother fuckers are confused into being reckless and evil with the greatest moment two people can share in their lives. Grace was given. Flow was achieved. In locations with umbrellas of former epic love there is not the harmful “ordeal” out the window. Aquifers produce better-acting spirits but the epic love that behavior controllers refuse to allow to happen to adults happens all the time to children and it is not the end of the fucking world. In the lives of the avatar and who he or she loves it is.
I am proud to say that the clouds have waved down at me. Sometimes they speak and move. But usually it’s a simple urge to look up at the precise moment to see an obviously crafted image in the clouds which dissipates within seconds either in the sky or by virtue of my vantage point changing.
This photo was taken in El Paso, TX looking into Mexico in December 2013.
On a trip through Albuquerque, NM in April 2014 I looked up just in time to see a little girl with a heart for a head waving down at me. I couldn’t grab the camera fast enough to snap a photo before it dissipated. Which was a real bummer. The girl was exactly like one that I had copy-pasted into an image of myself and Kelly next to a faux Prada store art exhibit in Marfa, TX.
On the Pink Moon of October, 2014 there was another occurence. An entire parade of clouds in the shape of Simpson’s characters flew above me for over 20 minutes. Some actually waved and some spoke. They were all happy. I got the sense that they were invigorated by the special double pink moons this year. Since most Pink Moons fall in a Taurus location and that one was Libra it makes sense. Taurus and Libra are good pals in human beings too.
INFLUITS & MURALS
Then there are the ghosts. I began seeing and hearing them in early 2013. It wasn’t until I experienced the Rapture that they came out in force visibly though. Beginning in Alameda, CA they followed me through the desert and into Las Vegas, NV. In addition to the presences which hold fabric together in the shape of animals and people there are Shadow People on the walls, ceilings and floors. There are also a tremendous amount of rude voices out the window. After the brutal assault I have endured I assume those might be human beings under cover of “it’s just our job” mentality.
Take a close look at the image. Click on it if you would like a larger view. Then pull your focus back from the monitor and look at how the faces “resonate” outward as your perspective changes. That is the hallmark of Graced art. How great it is!
I also have the pleasure of living with a bed that has, at times, been home to what felt like electric eels. In the beginning the little guys used to zap me. Now they know better. They drew impressive murals for me several times per day. The best murals become a separate image every time you turn them 90-degrees. That’s four separate images per mural. Twice as wonderful as that Illuminati logo!
If there are any people skilled at interpreting them I am happy to share. I took photos of many of them before the stress of the audio assault became too much and I retreated with only my life and hers in mind.