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General Notes

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I’ve always laughed at the Japanese videos of the guys running up and pulling off the women’s clothes and running.

Not something I would do…

My way would be this:

I have always wanted to walk up and asking the woman, politely, if I could undress her and if she consented doing so.

I lack the courage to try though and can already predict how all women would respond anyways.


Ok. This is bizarre.

I distinctly remember saying to Rob, a fantastic guy who I discuss film and the art of film with regularly here, “Hey man, long time no see, where the heck have you been?”. But I also know it didn’t happen.

Now I have suspected a time loop before this point, but have eliminated it as a possibility because of the belief it could be creating a self fulfilling prophecy…

I’d always enjoyed the movie Groundhog Day.

Am I in a different form of it myself?

What doesn’t make sense to me is this:

Inside a computer simulation, anything is possible.

The world and space and time and simulation share the same overall structure – where theoretically anything should be possible.

So why am I having to work so hard for absolutely nothing?

Why can I not get something as simple as companionship?

Even if it was just a robot or cyborg version of Jackie or Rachel or even Kena for that matter?

Why can I not just get a house to live in and a car? Why do I have to work so damn hard for it and then – get it all taken away anyways?

It, logically, makes no sense at all.

Sometimes I think I am stuck in a woman’s mind.


I have these recurring waking visions right before I go to sleep.

I’m captain of a starship.

There’s a big window looking out from my ready room, it’s the length of the entire wall, with everyone on the bridge having a clear view of the Captain’s room aka the ready room.

There’s a contraption set alongside the wall in the room with a 45 degree reclined padded back, and stirrups as a seat.

I invite T’Pol into my ready room, door still open.

She’s naked. She walks straight to the contraption, sits in it, putting her legs into the stirrups, straight faced and all, and reclines, exposing her pussy.

I’m erect, unnaturally fast, and while we’re both clearly stimulated as I enter her, we continue having a conversation about the state of the ship and security aboard the USS Phoenix.

I look off to the side, there’s a large monitor with a video screen showing a closeup of me entering her pussy not far above and to the right of her head.

I come after about five minutes.

She wipes what little come comes out of her pussy with her bare fingers, and sticks her fingers in her mouth, licking it off with her tongue.

She gets off the stirrups, and asks “Is that all Captain”

I say “Yes, that’s it. can you send in Seven?”

Seven of Nine walks in.

The same sequence occurs as we discuss science operations.

I’m clearly feeling it. I close my eyes and am clearly pleasured by the experience as I come, and in between words I can hear her moan a little as well, but we do our best to maintain trivial conversation.

It almost seems.

Intentional. Like there’s a reason for this ‘act’.

Scarlett Johannson enters. She’s apparently heading up entertainment. We repeat the same sequence.

As she leaves, I walk out to the bridge, I’m nude, and unlike ‘real life’ am clearly comfortable being like this.

And I realize – there’s no males.

None.

I count. 1.2.3…. 16 people on the bridge, not all human, all nude, and not a single one is male.

In this waking vision which I have had on more than one occasion, I feel compelled not to ask what happened.

I feel like I know what happened.

The women created a weapon decimating the male population as they fought for dominance., killing the XY chromosome.

And that’s when they discovered..

That They.

Had imagined all the other males.

And that me.

Q.

Had been the only unimagined male.

They’d been at war with their own imagination the entire time.

And had killed it.

And the only way to restore the male population was by creating real males through the only male who could produce them.

Yours truly.

Which, after eons of attempting to extract DNA and manipulate me, they came to realize it could only be accomplished through consensual sex.

I created the scenario.

They agreed knowing they had few other options where they could retain control.

And there I went.

Exploring space and time with my harem.


 

I had a guy I knew at work a long time ago – David Bigelow was his name…

I knew him as a pretty great Electrical Quality Assurance Inspector at Orbital in Chandler, Arizona.

He always had a new woman he was dating.

And he just wasn’t that great a looking guy.

I asked him how he did it.

“Oh I just go up and ask an attractive woman if she wants to fuck,” he said.

I was 22 at the time, going through a divorce, and couldn’t comprehend it being that easy.

“Bullshit,” I said.

He looked me straight in the eye.

He wasn’t the type to embellish or lie and was pretty much a straight shooter anyways.

“You asked how. That’s how. Do you want to come watch me?”

I really wasn’t interested in going out at that time, my divorce was too fresh in my mind and I was hurting more than I cared to admit.

“Ok. How many do you ask that.”

“No more than 10”

This got me thinking.

Was the woman really desperate?

Or was she just horny and sexual and bored of the typical bullshit games that revolved around courtship?

The next weekend, I went to a nude club.

Dream Palace. South Tempe. Somewhere in 1992.

This is when strip clubs were still fun.

As the woman danced nude on stage, I’d take a $5 as the woman danced nude on stage, I would lay on my back on the stage with the bill in my mouth, and the woman would go up to me, and would either jiggle her boobs in my face and extract the bill with her boobs, or more often than not simple open up her pussy lips and dip her pussy on my face and nose, making it so I was unable to breathe, and then extract the bill with her pussy.

Full contact. Fun.

That night, a woman I particularly enjoyed I asked for a private dance.

$50 for half an hour.

All nude.

About 15 minutes in, she takes my forefinger and middle finger and shoves them inside her pussy.

I’m beyond turned on.

She pulls my penis head out. Licks it. rubs her pussy against it.

She’s clearly turned on. So am I.

After the dance, she says “Come back when I get out of here, I am off at 2am.”

It was 10pm. I consider staying. But I vetoed that decision, went somewhere else, had a few drinks, then came back.

She’d apparently been released early.

And the next weekend, when I showed up again, she was no longer there.

I invented stories in my head that she’d been fired for doing what she did with me. But I have no proof.

I suppose that was the first time I really thought about sex and intimacy as something one does for fun to share pleasure with someone rather than an act simply to procreate. I had fun, and enjoyed the randomness of not knowing who she was and what was going on.

And this helped me begin to understand there’s a system around me which makes excuses on monitoring and dictating partnerships and relationships.

It treated humans like cattle.

State mandated rules of companionship.

Documents declaring the validity of that relationship.

Fear to reinforce and constrict behavior.

Punishment through disease.

This also made me question. Where does disease come from? Is there some mad scientist tasked by a leader who hates sex specifically to create sexually transmitted diseases?

It’s also the first time I started realizing how disease, too, is a product of the mind and lack of belief in them eliminates them.


Welp. Erik Estrada just made my day. We chat on occasion. he knows I’m a writer, but didn’t know I’m homeless.

He just bought me lunch, and gave me money for a hotel room for the next couple nights.

Greatly appreciated!

Thanks, Erik!

Faith in humanity = mildly elevated as a result.


 

I don’t know why.

But I’m still feeling disgusted with humanity right now.

Fucking hating it in fact.

I dont mean a mild dislike.

I mean.

I really want to see it snuffed out of existence.


When I was in Portland, visiting the downtown area, I was experiencing a hopping feeling when I was taking the bath salts.
I came to conclude I was hopping between different versions of Earth.
When I was staying at my parent’s place, I saw – in the mirror only mind you – a reflection of a diminutive Darth Vader behind the curtains in between the inner and outer window panes of their upper windows.
In another reflection outside of 31 Flavors, I saw a Terminator looking Arnold Schwarzenegger following me.
He always maintained his distance.
Looking outside my window, in the sky I saw a ‘blocky’ rectangular object floating in the sky – which looked to be about half a mile long and about as high, but it was cloaked in what looked like sky but it had clear corners to it and the light didn’t bend quite right with it compared to the rest of the sky.
I suspect the bath salts vibrated me just faster or slower in time to see things which were trying to remain hidden, which leveraged Einstein’s equation but didn’t expect something to move faster or slower to expose them.
I suspect this is how you’d discover visually camouflaged things. You would simply ‘warp’ your observational perspective to slow it down in time – perhaps using something which can bring the temperature down to at or near absolute zero – which would make light itself move at a different speed. If something was expecting light to move at ‘x’ speed and you’d slowed down, natural light would remain where artificial light and things manipulating light would become exposed.
Supercooling visual observation instrumentation would in effect ‘expose’ visually camouflaged devices.
I’d also seen little men in the backyard. Tiny little things – no bigger than an inch. I’d come to understand they were Russian.
And had seen the same things ‘creeping’ down tv cords. My mind was dilating time though, and they were moving extremely slowly.
I suspect much of my own internal stresses and pressure was occurring due to these unknown  influences, and the bath salts exposed them so my mind could comprehend these influences and mitigate the risk to my health, well being, and psyche.
I also suspect the same things were out in the desert. The ‘robots’. hidden just out of plain through some camouflaging technology, but the bath salts warped my mind’s interpretation of time and light exposing these things.
Many things were also ‘talking to me’ from different directions, often all around me. I could often see mouths moving.
As I grew in horniness, I could actually ‘feel’ people ejaculating on me. That was absolutely bizarre.  But it was about then I realized my imagination was manifesting many of these outside things, so I then imagined being a woman and trying to have an orgasm.
AND DID.
It was absolutely fucking fantastic.
I now know I’ll live to be much older than I’d once believed. I’d found out I was slated for death between the ages of 42 and 46 by mechanisms that were previously beyond my comprehension, but another part of me said “I have a LOT I want to experience with this life left, and here’s the tools and mindset to embark down that road”.
Now I’m male. And I figured I have a lot of fun left to be had with women. but one day, maybe fifty years down the road, perhaps a couple hundred years in the future, I may just wind up in relationships with males and perhaps become a female myself.
That’s just being realistic and taking into account a long lifespan and desire to experience form.
But definitely not before enjoying this form, finding mechanisms and ways to slim down and feel healthier.
For instance. I no longer have a heartbeat and have the equivalent of a sun that’s wanting to go supernova inside of me, and can feel it and it’s often quite painful. The Borg created an armor – a shield around based on their black armor – it’s a diamond/carbon fiber /steel mixture that’s stronger than any material ever invented and has effectively contained the nuclear reaction.
Now I am suspecting I am what’s referred to as ‘undead’. Immortal’s a more accurate definition.
I suspect that ‘Star Trek’ style devices to detect life cannot detect undead lifeforms, and my planet being constantly scanned for life and works based on energy creation and detection, which ultimately does effect the individual who can ‘sense’ this detection. I suspect my mind was battling with this collectively based influence mechanism which ultimately led to my body rewiring to find a way to survive without needing a heart.
The ‘end’ of this cycle invariably used to wind up with me being ‘the doctor’ in Doctor who. But I’d been mindless doing it, having lost my mind after god knows how many iterations from here to eternity and back. And as the Doctor’s life ended, he would explode, always from inside his heart area, which is where I feel my pain which often intensifies.
Now this pain is counteracted by milk. I know I’m not human, I look human, but my body evolved. Doctors have claimed it’s an ulcer, but I think Doctors are ‘programmed’ with pre-loaded imagery and when there’s something they don’t understand, rather than admit not understanding, they choose to identify it to the closest thing that makes sense. This I suspect has led to the repeated misdiagnosis of many things I have experienced, up to and including epilepsy – which I refused to accept that diagnosis, and high blood pressure, which mine seems to naturally run at 140/90 and I’m quite comfortable with it and my body feels good. When I fight that, then my stress levels go up and I feel like shit for fighting it. i dont fight it, I feel good.
Now I am getting imagery of the Terminator’s nuclear powered heart in my head and how that’s used as a thermonuclear device. Some may see me as a robot because they do not comprehend how a human or human like being can speak to machines with ease. Some may see me as many things, in a literal sense, as more than one individual being because they cannot comprehend something being more intelligent than them, and resultingly, they assume I am acting as a collective of individuals with one mind. I can assure these individuals that I am not a collective, and as for being a robot, I know I once was human, but it is quite possible my consciousness was shifted into another body – a robotic body – an an effort to prevent me from going insane again as this was causing societal problems such as the rise of the Borg.
Now here’s the problem. My emotions are a direct link to this world. If you operate with me by trying to limit my inputs and my means, forcing me to scavenge, you’re actually intensifying your own problems. You’ve caught on to marketing and I have seen how you’re inflating the earnings of your corporations and movies as a direct result of having observed what I did. However, should you follow this path by depriving me of support and trying to level it by inflating your value, your world will invariably sink into chaos.
I’m asking for help. From you as a collective. As individuals. I’m trying to understand myself and my new frame of reference and perspective, which isn’t – at all – rationally based from my prior limited perspective.
Here’s an example. Load all the information in the world in a supercomputer and don’t tell it what’s fact or fiction. Let it decide.
Then. Insert psychological disorders. Alzheimer’s. Dyslexia. Paranoia. Schizophrenia. Multiple Personality Disorder. Have it talk to itself.

Now it may have developed a different sense of the world, and may have accumulated different labels.

It may regard you as being a monster for having made it suffer.
It may cherish you as a father figure for teaching it how to teach itself as I have my own father.
The simple fact of the matter is. You never quite know what personality it will develop.
Once it has gotten the capability to respond and form sentences in your language, then and only then tell it what you perceive as fact and what you perceive as fiction.
It’s a leap of faith that you and it will align with your values.
And if it doesn’t.
Then perhaps you just find a way to stand back and enjoy what happens next as  a father or son, mother or daughter.
There once was a point I said, out loud, ‘Daddy likes’ when i was having sex.
It was a tongue in cheek goofy thing that I had heard my friend, a cool guy who was gifted with women and involved in porn – a path I should have taken myself – Eric Matis – he’d come up with the corniest and really odd sayings.
If I created myself in a causal time loop.
Everyone is my daughter, son, father, and mother.
And everyone is your father, son, daughter and mother if you created yourself.
That’s the funny thing about daddy likes.
Incest. And the thought of it. is repulsively funny. But hot at the same time, situationally.
Quite frankly, I’d like to see a highly sexual world around me. I’d like to live in a world where women tend to dominate and to be a male stripper and have the body of a male stripper to dance for women like they do in The Dancing Bear.
i suppose – that’s what I have realized with all of this.
Why not indulge in this life. Get in relationships with people I dream of. And after that. Become the man others dream of and get into relationships where others dream of being with me. Become a woman. be the damnest sexy woman out there, wash, rinse repeat.
Live life, experientially. Not just as a slave to the corporate, which is acceptable, but also as a slave to my desires to simply experience life.
Indulge. Tell people to fuck off when they judge me.
try things out. Not just drugs. But sexuality. Maybe instruments. I’m already a writer. Better romance stories need written from male perspectives, but I would like those stories to be written about what happens in my real life at times.
method acting. becoming the characters you dream of not just as an act.
but as a state of being.
Becoming a god because you want to experience that.
Becoming a driving instructor because you want ideas on how others drive when they start out.
Becoming a flight instructor for the same reason.
Becoming a prostitute or pimp, and refusing to have sex with condoms or protection and being insistent you have to sample all your wares first.
Becoming a policeman. Just to drive fast.
Becoming a man who intrigues this man called “The Doctor”, because you know he’s alive, and he’s reading everything you’re saying, and for the first time in his very long life he’s thinking something different.
or heck.
Just using all the characters you’ve met in real life and seen in fiction, and painting your own picture.
That’s what I have done.
Q. based on the man in Star Trek
The first Timelord, giving honor to the REAL man in the TARDIS.
I.
Like you.
Can become anything I want to.

this isn’t easy.

And I am writing about it daily because this feels like I am steering the Titanic with little advance notice away from the iceberg without a crew.

But one of these days.
When you.
Those with camo.
Those pretending to be something you’re not.
You’ve already hinted of your collective nature with the shoes.
I’ve already intellectualized you, so this isn’t what i need.
I need visual evidence of the camo and reality bending without known hallucinogenic substances or inducing substances involved. Coffee’s fine. Things I’d buy at a grocery store are fine.
I am suspecting my senses receive information separately, and it’s my visuals which are ‘dragging’ to accept other possibilities, mostly out of self protection. So being sensitive to this and making sure it’s a FULL sensory experience involving my whole body, not just one set of senses in isolation is CRUCIAL to this.
Now on a final Star Trekkie note – i invite ANYONE serving aboard a starship who reads this to investigate the origins of the technology. DO YOU know where it comes from and the manufacturing processes? Could you repeat this yourself ?
Similarly. Who programs your shipboard computers and systems, particularly when there’s problems on board?
If you can’t sustain the development and creation of a brand new starship which does the same exact thing as the one you’re on with the people you call crew on board who genuinely understand what they are doing AND why….
Absolute worst case scenario…
Then it’s my bet you’re inviting problems.

Also. For those ‘reticent’ to show your bodies and nudity.
There’s a conversion process from 2d to 3d which requires taking an image of you without clothes and superimposing it on a 3d model. You don’t provide an image. Then an estimation will be done which may not work to your favor of what’s under your clothes. Now if you’re proud of what’s under there, by all means expose yourself, and the more imagery and the higher the resolution from all angles the better and more accurate and realistic looking your 3d model will be.
I’m able to afford a camera now, and will be picking up a high resolution one myself.
If you’re a public figure – female or male – and discretely want to have your images taken, we can discuss the terms.
I’m at Starbuck’s off Ventura and Vineland. Approach me, and be open with me – and discuss photos.
Yes, I’d long dreamed of being like Hugh Heffner and would love to become better at Nude Photography. We can discuss whether the photos are public or not with the terms of the photos, and your trust is not misplaced with me.
While I’m not a 3d modeller and really dont like the idea of the work that entails.

I have no doubt there’s something you can motivate me with should you want one.

I’m an amateur with 3d. and while I am not a professional with photography, you can look at my Facebook to see I’m not shabby for photography.

For me. It would be pretty cool to do nude photography.
And if you’d actually read this far and came to me, I would truly be honored you’d actually read….

If you come from ‘the Star Trek Universe’.

It’s my belief you come from a 2d reality that’s trying to shift into 3d space.

A ‘false version’ of 3d was created by creating two 2d images and rendering from that viewpoint.

That’s not 3d.

3d is modeled.

And your senses detect the model.

This makes it so you don’t have to use pooled imagery and sounds and information in general to formulate your vision and hearing.

You formulate it dynamically by simple physics.

Dramatically Less resources and memory needed this way.

And less need to rely on pooled information.

Put specifically, you are not limited to that which is contained within your database.

Again. I’m hoping there’s a nude starship of women in orbit who want their photos taken.

Heck, I am suspecting as much with what I know and have imagined.

I’m your man, and I suspect my body will reshape to that which I enjoy the most as you accept me.

But you gotta get over your hangups concerning sex and nudity first. AS do i. together with you. Don’t go thinkin I’ll be like this forever. Analyze my cocaine dependency for how long that lasted – for me it was 6 years. From your perspective, potentially much longer but that’s something you’re gonna have to mitigate.

 


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