Gray cold day

Gray cold day after a night of three hours sleep with 3 Tylenol Pm and 3 shots of vodka in my system. Just unable to sleep with the pain caused by all the goddamned speed in my system. Woke up witha a migraine headache, nauseated, and high from the speed. But last night I woke up resolved that I have to do something to fight against the pervasive evil destroying me. I was motivated by the most unlikely of sources--Larry Sinclair, a man who I originally thought was a pestilent, attention-seeking gadfly with no moral substance whatsoever, but who I now realize was telling the complete truth with all the sincerity and tenacity of a Biblical prophet. I still have doubts about his character (it's a lowlife man who wants to reveal to the world who he's casually slept with--even if a great song comes of it, such as Leonard Cohen wrote regarding his sexcapades with Janis Joplin), but I can't help but regard Sinclair's continuing crusade in spite of overwhelming hardship and tribulation with grudging admiration. After all, like me, powerful political forces have falsely imprisoned him, they also have doctored his lie detector tests (in much the same way that that poor woman who had a "B" carved into her face was railroaded into jail, even though she was the innocent victim--after all, they can't have the masses really know what kind of violence, thuggery, and division that "the B" can inspire--it's all "orchestrated light"--the "light" of Lucifer. Sinclair is despised by the majority of the sheeple who no doubt, hate him for his homosexuality, and especially for the truth that he tries to proclaim regarding the polished platform of the most accomplished, airbrushed liar ever to reach the highest of political office.
But most inspiring of all, Larry Sinclair carries on his crusade when he is seriously ill with a brain tumor. After reading through his blog, I realized how much he is physically suffering, yet he perseveres because he thinks that he is fighting evil (and though I can't make the leap that he does, connecting his limo lover to the murder of Donald Young--though there may indeed be a possibility of connection, but if so, my money would bet on the handlers behind the scene), and I respect the tenacity with which he pursues his quest for truth and justice.
Likewise, I have to forget about my physical suffering and focus what I believe to be the truth, and fight for what is just. At this point, my future, at least for the next four years, and maybe forever, looks unbelievably grim. I never wanted to embrace the vocation of a "Jeremiah", but the role of suffering pariah and outcast seems like the only one left to me, because I will never serve the tools and agents of evil. The hard part is to persevere when I physically feel so sick and drugged all the time. If a man of the moral caliber and fiber of Larry Sinclair can do it, then surely I have no excuse not to try.

Later, in the shower, I reflected on the dream I had last night. I dreamed that I was wearing a mask of a character named "Joanne," and though I knew that I really wasn't "Joanne" people thought I was until I took off the mask. In the shower, I connected the name "Joanne" with the prophet John the Baptizer (Joanne is the feminine form of John). And I thought of John and his uncompromising attacks on Herod and his corruption and immorality. I have to emphasize that attacking Herod and his corruption and immorality is not my vocation, not because I fear for my life (ha! what life?), but just because I have bigger fish to fry. I have to go to the source of the corruption and immorality. I believe that humanity is on the cusp of the greatest demonic attack ever--my vocation as I see it is identifying and confronting evil on a spiritual plane, not a political one (which doesn't mean that evil doesn't have a political front--it does, and it is currently ascendant). I suppose, that like my Lord and Master before me, I will end up crucified, but the truth is, I already am. My life was stolen from me over 10 years ago when the SLI, in their stupidity and polically ambitious cupidity sold me out to the forces of evil. The nails are the psychotropic chemicals and emg brain implants that separate me from soul and spirit and sexual expression, from everything that I enjoy and delight in, from exercise to reading to prayer to simple contemplation to delight in sexual and intimate relationships. . My challenge and vocation right now, as I dimly ("through a glass, darkly") see it, is to somehow strive to find out how I can live a truly human, spiritual, contemplative (all coeval synonyms) when the chemicals and implants alienate me from my deepest ground of being. The solution is not self-evident. Clearly, the institutional churhes (and on the world wide stage, the different religions) are a big part of the problem, all coopted by the evil that their greatest founders and mystics railed against. So, it is up to me, alone, and with what help I can get from a few brave, knowledgeable individuals (and yes they are there and I know who they are) to figure it out...