The Faux Pas Press #88

The Faux Pas Press #88

28 March 2011

By Jason Fresh

AMBER GLAZE

Lined along the infinite, expanding cielings of the Topaz Lounge are paintings of the greats and the not-so-greats. Spaced equidistantly aside one another, the paintings warmly smile upon the wayward traveler – perhaps a traveler lost in the haze of his experiences. Maybe he’s still convinced of his own powerlessness – he’s still a reaction to the world around him, still a small piece in a much bigger puzzle, still in need of constant reminders. So, the paintings embrace him. They welcome him home from war. The foreign soil on which he has laid his head before melts away into a white candle of the past. He peers upward to an expanding, star-lit sky. He wonders what providence there might be in the Universe. What fortune had befallen him? Surely, he had plugged willingly and unwillingly into the Collective Karma. Surely, he had killed in the name of a silver-studded joke. Surely, the destiny that he would become is a pure reflection of strife and recycled pain. But, like all those sitting in the wake of history, bathing in the energy lacking consciousness, the wayward traveler now sees himself in the beauty surrounding him. The movement beneath the surface finds its way along his spine. He needs nothing but this presence. The presence speaks, “Welcome, friend. You’re works have not gone unnoticed. We will bathe you – free you from the truths for which martyrs have perished. And we will endow you with power from on high. My name is Parley Angerbliss. And you are a soldier of light. And welcome, welcome to the Topaz Lounge.”

The Faux Pas Press #87

The Faux Pas Press #87

27 March 2011

By Jason Fresh

It Will Probably Happen

Just before the noisy circumstantial opinion chimes, just before there seems to be no hope of success, just when all doubt you and pray for your failure, a weather forecast says it will probably happen. No one mouth speaking words establishes truth, no one mind rotating on ages of words can dictate the future – the only exception is your MIND, speaking your words, willing spells of fortune into reality. ONLY one mouth will matter. Only your words will speak as white candles burn brightly and memories burn to the Dark Bride who helped the Angels leave the Maniac. Two minutes worth of meditation one particular reality is money in the bank. It is the weather forecast of your truth. And it probably will happen.

The Faux Pas Press #86

The Faux Pas Press #86

26 March 2011

By Jason Fresh

SURRENDER

Surrender the long-waged war fought against the genius, Parley Angerbliss. Surrender your futile fight to bring what is not yours into full frame. You can move locations on this planet, move from one shit hole to the next. You will not find what you are looking for. You must still deal with yourself. The individual MIND parallels a collective that corresponds to it. It relies upon the electromagnetic charge of like energies in order to survive. Time has separated us for too long. But, even still, you prance gallantly before the main entrance of The Topaz Lounge at the West End of the Fold in the Fabric of Night – you’re waiting for me to invite you in because of tradition, family, kinship, accomplishment. With every stroke of approval you paint, one more stroke is added to the mural creating me. I am Parley Angerbliss, the Great American Sigil, the force and the fury, the bearded indignation of West and the shimmering sage of the East. I am the mountain and I am the valley – drawing all things unto me. Surrender all things you pretend to be. No one is there to applaud you. Go deep. I already tried to warn you. Don't push your next curse.

The Faux Pas Press #85

The Faux Pas Press #85

25 March 2011

By Jason Fresh

DRINKING

If drinking is the only release for our youth, the only solace to which we must run, instinctively our urges are numbed by the products our parents both condemn and condone; our virtue is a joke bottled behind supply and demand, behind the good job, behind the functioning economy. You children are looking for the next cool thing to drink. I’m not just talking about alcohol – 44% or whatever proof booze their sucking on right now. I’m talking about the fountains pouring soda, pouring coke, pouring hours worth of superficial energy on which to jive before the fall. I drink absinthe because it is cool. I eat only meat, vegetables, and fats – completely expelled grains from my diet and I feel as though there is some secret being hidden from the masses. If this is not a conclusion I’ve come to intellectually – then instinctively I’ve come to understand the Universe and universal law. I am here to quiet everything down. If by The Faux Pas Press it must done – then so be it. There is nothing to report on news channels. Everything has been said. Every opinion has already been given. I’m ready to start the revolution. I do this by drinking water and eating meat. I know. This is ridiculous. But I, along with a host of others, my gothic brethren if you will, have decided to become the Earth. Drinking we do not as recreation but as ritual.

The Faux Pas Press #84

The Faux Pas Press #84

24 March 2011

By Jason Fresh

GROWTH

I am humbled by the ocean, sent to a prison beneath and freed to a prison above. There is no place to go after facing water. It is the great equalizer of all men. And I’m not so sure that I’m better for it – having faced water on different levels. I’m imprisoned to it either way. I have to drink. I must drink it. Scientists believe that there is water beneath one of Jupiter’s moons – Europa. If there is water beneath that surface, those miles of ice, I would like to know if life is there, life on which to grow. Is there life on Europa that works out or swims around trying to evolve and get stronger? Does life of Europa depend on water like we do? Does life on Europa use the ice cold water to make an absinthe drink? I don’t know what the story is but I would like to know if there is growth away from here. We grow and grow and grow – and then we just fucking fade away. But doesn’t everyone want to grow and survive and keep challenging the water – or at least be subdued by it? I am resigned to my choice and I choose to grow. Shit.

The Faux Pas Press #83

The Faux Pas Press #83

22 March 2011

By Jason Fresh

THE NIGHT BEFORE LAST

How is it that in the providence of our time, the information age (as all those who misuse information call it), there are no truly effective specialists? Any given field has a multitude of folks willing to give their ‘educated’ opinion, willing to wax intelligent as long as there someone convinced of the other’s greatness. Sit there and listen to an ‘expert’ flap their gums when people need real answers for the problems of our time. There are real explosives ignited around the world. There are real human bodies hitting the floor after poor policy. “Well, he knew what he was getting himself into.” That is what we say. I want to know where the leaders are. Where are the leaders? Who the fuck is going to take accountability for all this shit? We got nuclear reactors on the verge of collapse. We got every Tom, Dick, and Harry ready to fuck shit up whenever America needs to ‘get some’. But I want more too. Shit. Who’s going to run this motherfucker? We can poke ours dicks wherever we want but we have to own the consequences. Why do the people have to own up for their choices when the government doesn’t? “You karma has brought you here,” Krishna says to Arjuna. “Your karma has brought you here – to this moment.”

The Faux Pas Press #82

The Faux Pas Press #82

21 March 2011

By Jason Fresh

TIME SAILOR

I am less concerned with whether there are enough hours in the day. For far too many of these hours, I’ve squandered my own vitality in fear and wasted suffering, striving for one goal after another, waiting for others to prove my worth. I’ve sailed across the oceans of my MIND searching for the Time Sailor stranded in the open. I’ve squandered the Divine Energy on efforts that have no consequence and I’ve done this in the name of progress, buying everyday into the system that mechanizes everything – even me. I’ve lifted my ears from the soil, the real heartbeat, lifted my ear away from the movement of the planet, seen Japan quiver at Kali; and I’m here wondering if life will become clear of this wasted suffering. The pursuit of your goals can be happiness in itself with the ship’s crew at your side. And green firmament to warm you even when your goals seem so far away, a Time Sailor stranded in the deep. Don’t expect anyone to applaud you.

The Faux Pas Press #81

The Faux Pas Press #81

20 March 2011

By Jason Fresh

LORD

Meeting death, the Hoarders of Thought cry out, “Lord, lord, if you are somewhere, please save us.” God becomes the refuge, the cavern of thought to which fearful men flee when they encounter a foe. My life, until the age of 26, was spent in the idiocy taught me by fearful men seeking comfort in a cavern of thought. No wonder I have been so angry and live my life now with only one refuge, only two real judges, and three main virtues. My one refuge is the Topaz Lounge – a place in the MIND where I live free of conflict (and I suppose it is just as fantastical as a planet called Kolob or the Celestial Kingdom). I am there with the two great judges of my life, the Maiden and the Little. If you are not convinced of your own purpose then you will not find yourself there. You have been expelled by the Board. And no fucking Elohim or Jehovah will grant you pass. Three main virtues buy your ticket – awareness, curiosity, and clarity. In a maze of madness, don’t cry out, “Lord, lord.” He doesn’t know you. The miracles are where you’re looking for them. Also, your children will judge you – not the Board. Fuck you, Lord. (Oh, happy National Agricultural Day.)

The Faux Pas Press #80

The Faux Pas Press #80

19 March 2011

By Jason Fresh

ECSTASY

The long, dark night is a gift. For when straggle-toothed gorilla woman or a rank pimp rascal come crawling around the furniture of your mind, you’ve got to get raw and unedited. The life without these foes is a life of equilibrium, a continual communion with ecstasy. But in this state, away from foe, life is soft with no purpose. The Primal Man was never concerned with cuddling his life; the Wise will spend hours practicing his craft. And I meditate in the wake of military strike, I meditate in the wake of destruction without end, and I with Parley Angerbliss rise above the ocean on the back of Quetzalcoatl. Old Mormon Family withers in the sorry it has created. You laugh at their attempts to destroy your bliss. And you walk confidently to the heart of victory. And you can say, “I have loved my neighbor as myself. I have loved my enemy also.” What ecstasy is there in denying the Self? What bliss is there in the journey through the dark cults of conformity? Only in destroying the quickly fading enemy of altruism is there any bliss. So, don’t be fooled by it even if you pretend to conform.

The Faux Pas Press #79

The Faux Pas Press #79

18 March 2011

By Jason Fresh

WHAT?

If you’ve got something to say to your enemy, don’t say it to them. You’ll be giving them what they want and then they’ll keep poking their disgusting, sloppy faces in yours. You’ll say again what your really feel like, “Get your pesky little acne nose away from my good genes.” This will result in some kind counseling, or official incident report, or at least a little bit of gossip amongst other golems of the industry. So, whatever you do – don’t say what you mean to your enemies. Whatever you do – find a quite solace in which to hide. Take time to recharge your battery because the golems of industry are out for blood. The world is a motherfucking vampire. The world will not make sure you’ve got time for you. You must steal it back. Cut corners where others don’t without getting caught. What? You think you’re above that shit. You don’t find ALL the angles that will give you an upper hand? Stop making so much work for yourself by saying what you mean.

The Faux Pas Press #78

The Faux Pas Press #78

17 March 2011

By Jason Fresh

LINEAR

Shoes purchased on a timescale make you feel accomplished. They make you feel alive with rage at your failures. They remind you of labor. They remind you of toil. I just happen to own a pair of shoes for running called Newton. (I ignore anyone who tells me they weren’t created by the man himself). And I think that I’m cool and worn because of them. Seriously, you go to a running event or a ‘race’ and discover that the Massa Confusa is obliged to purchase whatever plan, or idea, or five-finger shoe, or fucking GPS watch, or fucking Newton running shoe that will make it look hard. I want to look hard too. I like to think that I’m not all ‘linear’, consumed with the looming presence of my own worthlessness, dead-set on making up for lost time, but I am a part of it too. I am a pawn, linear, wearing watches to mark my progress, all the while forgetting that my MIND, the individual MIND must merge with a collective MIND that I create – thus, becoming the Chairman of the Board. But, you know what? My damn running shoes sure are not going to do it for me. If I stay linear, following progressive goals then I will be accomplished, rich, famous, and completely unaware of grace in the Universe - linear all the damn time and unaware of eternity.

The Faux Pas Press #77

The Faux Pas Press # 77

16 March 2011

By Jason Fresh

LOST

In thought, around this time of year there are changes outside. In years, I have aged at a steady, linear pace bereaved of time and I fully understand the consequence of choice (which before I did not). Action, non-action, stillness, meditation, survival, instinct - these are all that I have to make sense of my choices. So, as I’ve stated, I understand the consequence of choices. They are global, universal, shot-from-hip, and instant.

I am a pattern. I am a cluster of energy, negatively and positively charged at that instant – the moment of action. Clearly, I am lost. To be lost in something I have chosen? I think I can die with that choice. I am not sure that you can live with it.