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Path: uuwest!control.spies.com!spies!sgiblab!spool.mu.edu!uunet!mnemosyne.cs.du.edu!nyx!mporter From: mporter@nyx.cs.du.edu (Mitchell Porter) Newsgroups: alt.conspiracy,alt.discordia,alt.drugs,alt.slack Subject: What I Did For My Vacation [LONG] Message-ID: <1992Oct17.190613.13359@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Sat, 17 Oct 92 19:06:13 GMT Sender: usenet@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu (netnews admin account) Organization: Nyx, Public Access Unix @ U. of Denver Math/CS dept. Lines: 812

This was originally an article written for an Australian student union magazine, *Semper Floreat* (semper@pegasus.peg.apc.org, I think), but it was judged too long and too much like an essay on `What I Did During My Holidays' (which in fact is what it is). So instead of cashing my cheque from Semper, I am indulging in the unique form of vanity publishing which Usenet News offers. I am also publicizing the fact that this document forms part of the TRAVELLING SCRIPTURES OF THE CHURCH OF V\R, the rest of which you really ought to find and read. (If your neighborhood ftp site doesn't stock it, *demand* that they acquire it; they will be able to get help from Larysa.Fabok@bbs.oit.unc.edu.)

THIS DOCUMENT IS UN-, ANTI- AND OTHERWISE NOT-COPYRIGHTED 1992. As Robert McElwaine says, "UN-altered REPRODUCTION and DISSEMINATION of this IMPORTANT Information is ENCOURAGED", nay DEMANDED!

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<article for Semper Floreat>

`Life at a university with its intellectual and inconclusive discussions is, on the whole, a bad training for the real world and only men with a very strong character surmount this handicap.' (Sir Paul Chambers, Chairman of ICI, Chuter Ede Lecture, 1964) The phrase `real life' is often used to mean `everything which can be relied upon to distract and disillusion any young person who still has hopes, ideals and ambitions'. Celia Green

STUDENT RECEIVES WINDFALL, SEES WORLD

In 1991 I won a return trip to London and $2000 spending money. By the end of the year I had spent my spending money on rent and on a portable computer but still had no idea what I wanted to do on my first journey beyond Australia. But eventually I conceived of an itinerary passing through California, the American Midwest, the UK, and then home via the Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro; and with the help of a last-minute loan from my mother, and the sale of my computer, I left Oz on Australia Day, April 25.

Sunday, April 26: "I am now seated at the entrance to the massive clock tower at UC Berkeley (where I have also seen my first squirrel...).. "When I arrived in SF proper, I spent a few hours just wandering around the city centre. I was surprised by how clean & wide the pavements were - the 1st property maybe explained by Apr 25 being Earth Day - today it all looked filthy." (I was also surprised by the nonchalance with which pedestrians treated traffic, strolling out across main roads, and later read an editorial in a local paper decrying this, but it has been suggested to me that perhaps the drivers are cautious owing to the possibility of lawsuits.) "There were quite a few people panhandling, but they looked OK, so I thought, `Descriptions of the American apocalypse have been greatly exaggerated.'" (Written *before* the Rodney King verdict, and subsequent rioting...) "In the evening went to the FNB ?punk benefit" (a benefit for Food Not Bombs, a San Franciscan organization to feed the homeless, that featured local groups) "(featuring MDC, Naked Ape, & Gecko Velour) - met 3 Canadians. "Leaving, met Rod who had been sleeping there." (in the college where FNB had their show) "Said he was 27, ex-vet, ex-psych student in ?Wisconsin, `only problem is alcoholism'; had been to Oz while on tour of duty. We & Tom, spaced-out looking guy who was actually pretty alert and very knowledgeable (at least about LSD), went to Carls Jr, Zim's... ended up coming to Berkeley, where I saw paper on Whole Life Expo, went back to SF, decided not to enter (but missed RAW, TMcK day before, and Kathy Acker at poetry reading elsewhere *gnash, gnash*); it was 23rd anniversary of People's Park today, festival I have yet to check out." (RAW and TMcK are Robert Anton Wilson and Terence McKenna, two "underground" figures who will pop up again later in the story.) "During night wander with Rod & Tom, passed through Tenderloins, passed ~15 m from woman being assaulted by group of men; many people tried to sell us crack. Ran across guy in park looking for Brillo." I am told Brillo is a sort of steel wool pad; Rod explained that the guy would have been looking for some Brillo in order to break up his `rock' of crack, so he could smoke it. I spent a few days in San Francisco and Berkeley, during which time I visited the Haight-Ashbury district (home of the hippies in the 60's), logged into "SF NET", a computer network with terminals in a dozen cafes, bought a dozen books in Berkeley, and slept in public parks and shop alcoves like everyone else I talked with. Then I caught my flight to the Mid-West. Just as I disembarked at Chicago, I first heard of the L.A. riots.

COMPUTERS AND THE WORD OF "BOB"

In 1991 when I was doing some Computer Science subjects at UQ I had a chance to use the "Internet", a global "network of networks" linking together hundreds of universities around the world. I was able to log on to bulletin boards in the United States and "talk" (through the keyboard) in real-time to people who were seated at terminals in America, Europe, Israel, Japan... Most of my net friends attended universities in the American Mid-West, and I spent the next three weeks travelling through Minnesota, Indiana, and Iowa on Greyhound buses, trying to meet them all. (Most of my reading en route was supplied by the writings of Avital Ronell, which I had discovered while in Berkeley; born in Czechoslovakia, she came by way of the streets of Paris to California where she now resides, writing about feminism, technology, the state, the war on drugs, Nietzsche, Heidegger, Derrida... I haven't seen either of her books, "The Telephone Book" and "Crack Wars", on sale in Australia yet, but keep your eyes open.)

I spent a week in Bloomington, Indiana, on the campus of Indiana U., but most of my time was spent in libraries, buying books, and on the computer network. Under the watchful eye of the librarian at the Lilly Library I was allowed to peruse `The Game of Life' by Timothy Leary - the Harvard psychologist whose experimentation with and later advocacy of psychedelics landed him in jail for six years (he's now out and travels around speaking on self-directed evolution and virtual reality); this book from the late 70s outlines informally but encyclopedically his model of human and posthuman psychology and evolution, mapping a path from amorphous protozoon to fusion with quantum galactic intelligence, peppered with cartoons of Henry Kissinger, Woody Allen, Richard Pryor, and other famous primates along the way, there for didactic value. I would not be surprised if there were no copies of this book in Australia. In my opinion Leary is one of the century's most original and important thinkers... the way he has changed over the years might be summed up by his changing slogans: in the 60's: "Turn on, tune in, drop out"; in the 70's: "SMIILE: Space Migration, Intelligence Increase, Life Extension"; in the 80's: "Think for yourself, and question authority"; in the 90's...? I was also offered the chance to try Bloomington acid, but that never eventuated.

Iowa City is the home of ISCA BBS (Iowa Student Computer Association Bulletin Board System), my favourite and most-frequented bbs. There I stayed at the `House of Chaos', an anarchic establishment reminiscent of many student households I have seen in Brisbane (with the exception of the Sunday night "Star Trek: The Next Generation" parties, in which what appears to be the whole of ISCA turns up to watch). My week in Iowa City was probably the most enjoyable time I had anywhere in the course of my travels. It is quite an experience to suddenly meet in the flesh a dozen or more people with whom you have previously been acquainted only through electronic text messages. A major underground presence in Iowa City (or so it seemed to me) was the notorious Church of the SubGenius. I could double the length of this article trying to "explain" the Church, so I will just say that it is a long-running satire on cults, religions, everyday hypocrisies, most belief systems and all forms of politics, which also seems to serve as a common point of reference for a large number of otherwise alienated individuals. The Church of the SubGenius operates out of P.O. Box 140306, Dallas TX 75214, USA; send US$1 for one of their pamphlets ("eternal salvation, or triple your money back!"), or US$20 for ordainment as a SubGenius Minister. Their *magnum opus* is *The Book of the SubGenius* (reviewed in the first issue of Semper for 1992), the "Horror Bible" of the Church; it describes how J.R. "Bob" Dobbs, once a humble salesman, was contacted by alien space god Jehovah-1 and so founded the Church and set out on the battle for Slack, that mystical quality, even better than Nirvana, that you have when you are in the balance point between Something and Nothing, and so can get Something for Nothing... In his way stands the Conspiracy of Pinks, the Normals who refuse to think for themselves and so who are at the mercy of the gurus and governments of the world. "Bob" can be recognised by his shining eyes, idiotic grin, and Pipe, in which he smokes his 'Frop. And what is 'Frop? Well, as one of his net-apostles puts it...

'frop is the substance through which we come closer to the light of the world, the savior of our souls, and the guy who can getcha a really good deal on some used stereo equipment, j.r."bob" dobbs. 'frop gives you the slack you need to get through a day of dealing with the pinks.

give me slack! or give me death! or on second thought, make that a pizza!

"bob" leads us, like a shepherd. actually, bob leads us like alan shepard. the church of the subgenius was founded by j.r. "bob" dobbs, to show us the way to greater self-actualization and to help him buy a mercedes. the key reverends who now interface with "bob" are the rt. rev. ivan stang (husband of lydia lunch) and rt. rev. orgone generator and rt. rev. candy streeter and rt. rev. mark mothersbaugh. i am not a rt. rev, but am a sister because the face of "bob" was revealed to me some years ago on one side of a flour tortilla.

the stark fist of removal approacheth...hist to the call. 'frop will see us through.

remember: "bob" loves you, and your money. this gets me through the tough times. i mean that.

i bid you farewell, with our traditional closing:

jesus is our hope jesus is our bob bob is our hope jesus is bob hope

* * *sister liese, first apostle of the holy mexican staple food

This may sound pretty weird to you, but the Church is increasingly popular and has even had a positive review for one of its books in the journal of CSICOP, the Committee for Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal, the skeptics' organization to which astronomer Carl Sagan and magician James Randi belong... The Church is out to take over the world by 1998, in time for the judgement of Jehovah-1, so who knows... perhaps "Bob" is in *your* future... (And watch out for the Anti"Bob"!)

INTERLUDE IN HYPERSPACE

After Iowa City, I spent a day in Chicago before flying on to the UK. I went to the public library there and found a book for which I had been searching for years: *The Invisible Landscape* by Dennis and Terence McKenna, the story of a 1971 Amazon expedition by the McKennas in which they set out to try the "vision vine", *Banisteriopsis caapi*, variously known as yage or ayahuasca, "used in shamanic rituals by Indian tribes of the region and by folk healers", according to one of my net informants. According to Terence McKenna, "The first half of the book describes the theoretical underpinnings of the experiment. The second half describes the theory of the structure of time that derived from the bizarre mental states that followed the experiment. I do not claim that we succeeded, only that our theory of what happened is better than any theory proposed by critics." Briefly the theory is that as well as "forward-flowing...causal determinism" there is an "interference pattern... formed against that" by some enormous event or "hyperobject" that lies at the end of history. TMcK has helped to design a computer program (which I have not seen) called "Timewave Zero" which provides a map of this interference pattern. Somehow combining motifs from fractal mathematics and the I Ching, it supposedly predicts those moments in the course of history in which a major "ingression of novelty" occurs - such moments being occasions when the hyperobject shows its influence. McKenna predicts that the final manifestation or "concrescence" of the hyperobject itself will occur near the end of 2012 (also the end, incidentally, of the present "Great Cycle" of the Mayan calendar). But what *is* "it"? Here is what I copied from *The Invisible Landscape*, while in the Chicago library:

Achievement of the zero state can be imagined to arrive in one of two forms. One is the dissolution of the cosmos in an actual cessation and unraveling of natural laws, a literal apocalypse. The other possibility takes less for granted the mythologems associated with the collective transformation and concrescence and hews more closely to the idea that concrescence, however miraculous it is, is still the culmination of a human process, a process of toolmaking, which comes to completion in the perfect artifact: the mondaic self, exteriorized, condensed, and visible in matter. Presumably, were such a hyperspatial tool/process discovered, in a very short time it would entirely restructure life's experience of itself, of time, space, and of otherness, and then it would be these effects which would follow rather than precede the concrescence, and which, through their atemporal influence in the context of visionary experience, would be seen to have given rise to the `apocalyptic scenario' in the expectation of so many ontologies. The appearance in normal time of a hyperdimensional body, obedient to a simultaneously transformed and resurrected human will, and able to plum the obligations and opportunities inherent in this unique juncture in energy's long struggle for self-liberation, may be apocalypse enough.

There is much more to what Terence McKenna writes, and you can find a skeptical but sympathetic account of some of his ideas in a recent issue of *Esquire* (the one with the cover story on "How George Bush Went Mad in the White House").

"THE MOST EXCITING THING POSSIBLE IS ACTUALLY TRUE"

Within minutes of disembarking at Gatwick International Airport in the UK I had caught the attention of a customs officer, I think initially because of my long hair and generally scruffy appearance. He went through both my bags, finally settling on my wallet. He asked me to wait while he went away to analyze something from inside it... and came back to tell me (I think I have this right) that "cannabis remains" had been detected in it. My jaw literally dropped at this, and I said I had no idea how they got there. He asked me "Have you ever smoked dope?" and I said yes. He asked, "Are you carrying any now?" and I said no. He said I could go through. Once I was through I immediately caught a train for Oxford. My first priority was to meet Celia Green, founder of the Institute for Psychophysical Research, and author of several books which impressed me so much when I read them in late 1989 that I almost quit my degree at UQ in early 1990 in order to devote all my time to earning money, so I could get to Oxford and somehow help her organization. In brief, her philosophy is one of rigorous skepticism and transcendent aspiration, and in her books *The Human Evasion* and *Advice to Clever Children* (available in the Queensland State Library) she argues that ordinary psychology and society are dedicated to the suppression of these attitudes, owing to a fear of uncertainty and failure. Or, as she puts it in *Advice to Clever Children*:

The human psychosis is extremely simple. Hatred of reality (originally caused, it is to be supposed, by a traumatic experience or experiences of objective impotence) has become displaced onto other human beings. This state of affairs is expressed by attitudes of indifference to reality and of interest in human society. The latter interest is usually rationalized as altruism.

As an alternative to ordinary, `sane' psychology, she advocates `centralised psychology', which is distinguished above all by the "perception of existence" - that is, the perception that *reality is there* and unknown, and perhaps unknowable:

The starting point is that one is interested in the universe. One observes that one is finite and that this is intolerable. One has a limited time and apparently limited capacities with which to find anything out... Existential psychology, at least up to a point, consists of exploiting the recoil from the despair of finiteness. The recoil is a drive with at least the instinctive immediacy of the survival instinct. There is no point in saying: "What is there to do? What could such a drive possibly tend towards?" The survival instinct tends to prolong life; the fundamental drive tends to inform itself about the universe. [from the same book]

The Institute is intended to function as an independent academic environment for the investigation of philosophy, physics, psychology and so forth, and has published a number of books on such topics as lucid dreams and out-of-body experiences - the common factor generally being that the phenomena in question cast some doubt on the status of everyday reality. (A review of the topics investigated can be found in *The Decline and Fall of Science*, which the UQ Central Library carries.)

What I saw of Oxford was narrow streets and people on bicycles. I paid an unsolicited visit to the IPR, where it was suggested that I write a letter of introduction; having done so, I waited a day and phoned, and was told that I could meet Celia Green that afternoon. We had tea in the IPR's backyard and talked for an hour. In person she was very direct and alert; I mentioned that I had almost come in 1990, to which she responded to the effect that "I wish people would stop saying they will come and help, and just do it." I got the impression that the Institute has not had the opportunity to conduct research on a reasonable scale for at least a decade, owing to a lack of financial support, and that there are several more books waiting to be published. I described an episode that occurred during the first occasion on which I tried magic mushrooms, a moment in which I lost all sense of space, time, sensation, self (or so it seemed), which I subsequently came to think of as `seeing the Void'; I asked if for her the "perception of existence" had such a quality, but I gathered that it referred more to an *analytical perception* of the inconceivability of existence and consequent total uncertainty. I also asked if she had any "anomalous experiences" of her own, but she could recall only an incident from a fever at the age of 21, in the course of which she appeared to hear a clock that was not there. We talked hardly at all about her scientific ideas, except briefly about the idea of higher dimensionalities, which she argued for years before it became fashionable in mainstream theoretical physics (there is an aphorism in one of her books: "I postulated infinitely many dimensions on the grounds of economy of hypotheses"). She considered that there had been progress on this front, but was still dissatisfied with the relative complacency that exists regarding the nature of physical concepts (the question of the "interpretation" of quantum theory, for example). On the way out I noticed a PC, but no Internet connection... So: if there are any millionaires reading this who have an interest in furthering truly fundamental and independent research, *this* is the person to go to. The Institute has no shortage of ideas; what it needs is the means to conduct its experiments. Celia Green's writings I think show her to be already one of the great philosophers; she may yet get the opportunity to fulfil her potential as a scientist as well.

EARTH SUMMIT ABORTED

In London I was unable to contact any of the people I thought I had some chance of visiting, but I *did* find a place called the Brain Club I'd been told about in Australia. It's a bar and nightclub which seems to be a regular venue for "New Age" style demonstrations: meditation techniques, "Hopi ear candles" (?), mind machines and so forth. I didn't see any of these, but got to try a "psychoactive cocktail" - an ordinary alcoholic cocktail mixed with small quantities of a "nootropic" or "smart drug", any of a class of compounds which are neither illegal nor "officially" sanctioned as cognitive enhancers. I tried "Rise 'n' Shine" and went for a walk to Leicester Square, which people told me was a place where a lot of `alternative' people might congregate.

"2.30 am, Leicester Square, London "after I left the Brain Club, went for a wander, ended up at the fenced-off park here, wandered thru mall - there was a group of born-again C.'s preaching in the square - early on I felt like getting the mike and preaching for "Bob" or V/R, but actually ended up just listening & watching both speakers & crowds, and was feeling more peaceful than my usual `anguished philosophizing'. At first I thought, is the `Word of God' reaching me? But then I thought, no, it's probably that psychoactive cocktail." After the preachers finished, I went to see "Wayne's World", then returned to the Square and spoke with various people until dawn. London was "shallow" and obsessed with fashion according to one. Another said, "In London, no-one wants to know you... they're only after money, sex and drugs... You can get money if you're a show-off." To make a broad generalization I felt that while the youth of San Francisco put anger, energy and creativity primarily into politics, in London the emphasis seemed to be on music; of course there was music in SF and politics in London, but it was as if Londoners had largely given up on political concerns and so were more relaxed and more despairing than their Californian counterparts. On the other hand, I was repeatedly told while in California, "Everyone here is crazy", and this was *not* said in an affectionate or tolerant sense. *No-one* said that to me in London.

As in San Francisco, I slept in parks and on benches. Looking ahead to Rio de Janeiro, I thought: "I have about US$200 left, which is meant to see me through another week in London and two weeks in Brazil. I still haven't learnt a word of Portuguese, and I would definitely be pressing my luck to try living in the streets in Rio." So after unhappy contemplation of my options, I decided to leave London early, skip Rio and instead return to Australia via California. In my last few hours in London I stumbled across Hyde Park, which is famous as a place where people go to harangue the public from their soapboxes. Amidst the Muslim, Christian, and humanist preachers I ran into a guy called "Maxwell" who was speaking on the alleged involvement of George Bush, the Pope and various others in drug trafficking, and how they laundered their funds through the now-defunct BCCI of Pakistan ("Bank of Conmen & Cocaine, International", according to Maxwell). After he had finished speaking I asked him what his sources of information were; he said it was there to be found in the back issues of various newspapers and current affairs journals.

Departing the UK (from my `travel diary'): "?9 am at gate 23 having made it through Customs etc. While still in the general Airport area, I went to the toilet to empty out the `cannabis wallet' (to throw it away) & as soon as I came out of the cubicle I was apprehended by 2 `Sussex Police' who there took my passport & ticket, had me empty my bag, asked questions, and finally let me go. I presume they were looking for *someone*. "This is something I will NOT miss about the UK: the `security' paranoia..." (Even when shopping, I never put my bags down anywhere without shop assistants hurrying across to tell me that I should keep my bags close by me at all times; otherwise they'd have to call in the bomb squad...)

Back in San Francisco I was determined to do things differently this time. I slept most nights in a backpackers' hostel, rather than on the street; and I booked my flight out for a week after I arrived, so that I would have a better chance of catching an event like the Whole Life Expo, which I missed the first time around. And it paid off! On my first day there I found flyers advertising `An Evening with Robert Anton Wilson'. For the uninitiated: Robert Anton Wilson may well be considered one of the late 20th century's great writers and philosophers, in about a century's time. In the form of dozens of novels, essays and nonfiction books, he has intelligently explored and "popularized" all sorts of shunned, ignored or esoteric topics, such as the occult, conspiracy theories, psychedelics, Fortean phenomena, Leary's ideas, and the interpretation of quantum theory. He's best known as coauthor of the "Illuminatus!" trilogy, but you might currently find in UQ bookshops or libraries nonfiction books like "The New Inquisition" and "Prometheus Rising". The first time I arrived in the US I found he had released a new book, "Reality Is What You Can Get Away With", a mock movie script dramatizing many of his concerns and ideas, populated with guest appearances (and stills from famous movies!) featuring Humphrey Bogart, Orson Welles, Jane Wyman, Wilson himself, and J.R. "Bob" Dobbs. Now I was offered the chance to experience `An Evening with Robert Anton Wilson', `based' on this new book, to be held in one week's time. The event was advertised somewhat surreptitiously, on glossy flyers tacked to telephone poles in Berkeley and San Francisco. The flyers gave a phone number, which gave another phone number, which gave a series of addresses where tickets were available. Walking one morning in San Francisco I met a guy panhandling, gave him some money and talked with him a bit. He made a few jokes with occult connotations and I indicated that I understood, and soon we were talking more intently... He was a rock lyricist (I'll call him "Al"), and sang me a few of his songs - he'd been involved with music all his life; he was at Woodstock ('68) at 15 - but the most interesting part of his life seemed to me to be his occult and psychedelic experimentation. He had used psychedelics in conjunction with Magick (ie ritual magic - see the works of Aleister Crowley) and the set of ideas popularized by Timothy Leary ("Neuro-logic"). He described his current orientation as "Taoist psychedelic Christian" and was in addition a member of various magickal orders, such as Crowley's A.:A.:. He told me that one in five police in the States is a Freemason (in a sense this would not be surprising, as Masons have been very influential in American history - many of the original revolutionaries - Washington, Jefferson - were Masons) and seemed to know about the neurochemistry and psychological effects of every drug I had ever heard of. In short, he was a very interesting person to talk with, and I soon suggested that we see Robert Anton Wilson's presentation together. So we went and bought tickets and planned to meet again Friday night at a donut shop.

I went to Berkeley hoping to hear the SubGenius radio hour (it turned out to play at 4.30 am on Saturdays). I still had a Brazilian visa, albeit no ticket, and had a vague hope of proposing to be "Bob's" representative in Rio if the Church was willing to get me there. But this never happened; in fact I never even heard the radio program. Instead I got talking with another panhandler, and... I'll let him speak for himself. The next section is transcribed from a tape he recorded, in the course of the 36 hours I spent with him; he took good care of me, in what seems to have been a very dangerous environment, in between managing his affairs at street level and fiddling with an accounting program he had written (in the programming language C; he had a degree in computer science from UC Berkeley). I have blanked out his name and a few other names in the transcript, in case this article somehow gets back to Berkeley.

LIVE FROM BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA, U.S.A.

On 29th of the 5th, '92, I, Mr J[...], met a strange individual, at which point I was panhandling on University Avenue, which leads to the University of California at Berkeley... The gentleman proceeded to be quite genteel, and gave me $2, and.. I was about to go through DT's and did not want to approach the Family... which I will discuss later. He bought an orange soda - orange juice - I bought *one* forty-pounder, common word for a forty-ounce beer in America...

Next point, we acquired the forty-pounder, which I have previously described, and proceeded to Fred's - that's F-R-E-D-S - liquor store, on University, a main street, or common name `main drag', in Berkeley. It proceeds to the Camp... it'll take you *dead* to the Campanelli. Ah, that's street talk. If you were on University, off the freeway, off of 101, you would have no choice but to run into the Campanelli. The Campanelli is described like the Mecca... of the campus. ...it's the centre place, all the riots take place there, and Lawrence Livermore Lab is approximately 1.6 miles up the hill. Nobody knows what goes on up there. It's a strange situation. At this point, since the riots started in L.A., the... shall I not make this non-racial... most of the southerners - i.e. Los Angeles, San Bernardino, San Diego - are moving here. The financial situation is atrocious. Persons are panicky. As of next month, in reference to previous date, male gentlemen will be cut 40% of their welfare, and at that rate ... they can't have a room, unless they share one. ...The tax situation is getting impossible.

During this break, my recently-met... "co'en"... has gone to find a match. At present I am trying to smoke a cigarette which I should have had long since ago, but we're sitting in a very prestigious neighborhood at Berkeley which I cannot describe. It's a hilly section, almost mountainous. Um, not long since ago, in the east hills of Oakland, there was a terrible fire.. The whites were underinsured, and the store prices went up tremendously, in the ghetto. The insurance rates skyrocketed. One might say that this is one of the most genteel places in the world... I'm trying to do as much as I can on sixty minutes of tape, that's almost impossible but I'll do it anyway. We acquired this recorder at a Radio Shack, at an incredible price, which was outrageous, and we probably could have bought it in the streets from some bum who would have stolen it for us, but that's okay. For a moderate home here, with two bedrooms, it is approximately $350,000. Old, not new. My co'en and I were... it was really funny - we were travelling down the street... and I - he thought it was a joke - and I said "How much do you think this house is worth?" and he says, some outrageous figure, terribly low, and it was just a piece of shit. And it was approximately $300,000, and they were still repairing it, so it was still going up. Berkeley is becoming a very expensive place, the rent control here is outrageous, the landlords are crazy. Key number one: Remember this: If you're a student and you're coming to Berkeley, the first and last security deposits are almost impossible. Number two: Write letters and acquire. Number three: Housing's almost impossible. Number four: Don't carry cash. Number five: Look like a bum, and stay away from Telegraph, which is right away from campus, from the Campanelli. There's a huge clock, it's in the centre of campus.

Dangerous situations... stay away from anything south of Martin Luther King... especially at nights. The gang affiliation here is increasing, and I don't know what's going to happen. Whites are being antagonized. Panhandlers, beggars, are aggressive, passive, whatever. I myself, I needed a drink, I asked my co'en for some money, as I said previously, and he gave me $2. Had he not been so genteel, he would have been in trouble. One of my... a person that I know, attempted to snatch his bag, in which was his money, containing about a hundred dollars, passport, ID, and he was quite trustworthy.

While I don't like to dwell on this negativity, but we're sitting in a park and I'm the only black here, and it's just like algebra, what you do on one side you do on the other. My co'en was sitting in an almost all-black neighborhood, and I think he was a mite flighty and perplexed. At this point I think he's learned a couple of lessons. I might describe this place as park for yuppies. Yuppies are upper-class whites. Or, they can be blacks. A very expensive neighborhood of Berkeley, and where the kids play, and it's very, shall I say, relaxing.

As we're sitting in the park, a small child, that knows nothing of hatred, war and poverty, gets out of the play area which is enclosed by a fence, and smiles at us, and its parents hail him. Probably background noise can be heard, and they're probably very rich Indians. Indians here are very affluent, they're very rich, they're very everything. Chinese are buying almost entire towns. The blacks have racism, war, and poverty, in their hearts. They think that everything must come their way for nothing. I'm black, but... I worked hard for my living. I've been given breaks for things that I shouldn't have. I've been to jail a million times, I'm drinking in public, my attitude is belligerent, but I'm quite well respected. Now, certain things I can't say at this point. I belong to an organization, there are several here, and my organization is nonviolent. There are things I can do, and certain things I can't do. The details can be filled in by my co'en, which he's witnessed, either verbally or visually.

Most elderly persons, in my age group - excuse me for not previously saying it, approximately 40 to 50 - have their own social circle, which cannot be broken. They're almost always protected, there's always one behind another, but at this point I don't have to be protected, I can page them. There's no drug affiliation, there's no anything. Should I say that, we're peaceful. I'd like to say that we pray for no hatred, no war, no poverty, but none of us are perfect. I can't turn the other cheek... I was adopted by a very affluent Jewish family, and at present I'm a bum on the streets, and my son's in med school, not because I elect to be, but because I'm an alcoholic. I'm far from an oaf, but things just don't work right. I have my state of mind that, if you pay for something, then it's yours, and then property taxes upsets me. If I work all my life and pay for a home I think I should be free not to have to pay the government anything. If I park my car and I don't have coins in my pocket to pay for it, i.e. parking meters, they have a law here, and they have machine devices that ... a quarter, and you have to put 'em in there, and if not it's fifty dollars almost. And if you don't move in approximately one hour, it's towed away, and that's forty-five dollars to get it out, forty dollars for the fee, and if you don't get it out in a couple of days it just goes up and up and up.

At this point I'm sitting in a children's playground, and a mother is playing squeaky train, whatever that is. [MOTHER: Squeaky train, it's leavin'... Ready? Chugga-chugga, chugga-chugga, chugga-chugga... choo-choo! Chugga- chugga - ah! Stopping, we've got one more passenger to get on, <screeching noise>, hurry up... Squeaky train is departing... LITTLE GIRL: Could I have a ticket? Thank you. MOTHER: Squeaky train is going..] The coachman asked for the ticket, and one plays the engineer, and I'm sure you can hear the background noises. [LITTLE GIRL: Faster, faster, faster! MOTHER: The train is speeding along! You can hardly hear its name because it's squeaking so loud.. squeak, squeak, squeak- ] What's the name of this train? [silence] This train, the name? [MOTHER: The name of the train is.. the... LITTLE GIRL: Squeaky train.] And your name my dear? [silence] Just a little name. [MOTHER: nervous laughter] I'll play it back for you in a couple of seconds. [MOTHER: The train is going... chugga-chugga, chugga-chugga...You can say your name... you can tell him...] Just your first name. Don't be shy... Oh well. I guess she's in first-class section and she won't be bothered.

At present we're sitting in a famous bar on University Avenue, called "Spats". Pretty prestigious... I've been frequenting here for approximately 15 years...

I couldn't study. This was the only place I could come to study. You know what happened to me the other day? I was sitting down drinking my bottle of wine, in the middle of the streets, this idiot approaches me and asks how many cannons did Pachelbel shoot. I said, "You know what a canon is? In music?" He goes, "Yeah, it's a big gun, a big one they used to have." He said he'd loan me a quarter. I said "I'll give you fifty cents to get the fuck out of my face, you idiot!" A canon is a short work of music, and Pachelbel only wrote... what, six or seven?

At present we're approaching the freeway area, an off-ramp, out of Berkeley, just the opposite of University. ??Child&White was a very affluent family in the hills, ??Child&White is the most prestigious company in the hills. I suggest that they may be worth trillions. My friend and I are now proceeding under the bridge, to one of my old campsites, and I'll attempt to take a photo of him, of the city and... anything. At present I'm totally perplexed, and I'm *not* in the best of modes. I want to go to sleep... I'm gonna do it. My backup doesn't ever come down here, because it's not their part of town, but I just wanted to show him sections. Um... I'm not worried about myself, I just wanted to show him how to survive, and a couple of other things. At present we are aprroaching 101 Overpass, to San Francisco... I mean 540 to San Francisco, then we'll go to 101, and I'll show him where I used to sleep a long time ago, when I first became a tramp. To my right is some ?4by4s I need, so I'll put some notation and I'll have N[...] and the rest of the guys come by, and clip the rest of the wires down, and take them, and put them in a safe place. My friend is quite quiet now, because I think he thinks I'm crazy... He's giggling, and I'm still online. I hope this thing will be published, which if it's published it'll probably be the world's best-seller, I have to go to the b-room, very short from here, and I'll try and see if any of the old tramps are around.

I'm sure you can here the traffic.. we're at the freeway, under the bridge.

It's a common practice that orientals do not issue money. Although I am not prejudiced, but they are trying to buy up everything in the city of Berkeley, but it won't work. They're pretty good. They have can collectors and they have echelons such as in China... Chinese restaurants, Thai restaurants, everything is always Chinese. They collect food out of dumpsters, mix it with eggs and rice, and serve it to the persons that are very prestigious.

At this point my co'en - repeat, my co'en - is leaning against a grey post..., and very... depleted of his energies. I'm waiting for my co'ens to come back with positive cashflow. Repeat, positive cashflow. I can't say where they acquired it or how they acquire it.

The traffic on the street at this point in a yuppie neighborhod - yuppie, yuppie is younger, white, upper-class. Repeat, younger white upper-class. I'm not racial, I was adopted by a very affluent Jewish family. Might I repeat: this is not any racial statement. The name of the restaurant again, might I repeat, is A[...], which means, `This is your coffee'. It is the largest, but the largest, cocaine dealership in the city of ... I don't know where we are. That, I can't repeat. I don't know where we are now, I don't know where we are, I don't know where we are, I don't know where we are. But, persons frequent there, and there's always traffic. From 5 o'clock in the morning until approximately 2 o'clock in the...evening, from 5 am to 2 am.

At present, the connection for the Chinese, A[...], is French, but they're Chinese cooks, they're Chinese chefs. At present he's doing his drop connection; in approximately 45 minutes the garbageman will come by and pick up the proceeds.

I myself have acquired funds through illegal means. And in the United States if you're known as a snitch, then your ass is grass. In essence, you are dead meat. One person could tell another person on the grapevine... grapevine means such as, the story of gossip when you were in grade school. You tell the story around the corner and it goes back around, but it's different. One person tells another person, and it's gonna be verified, and they're dead meat.

On this evening we have experienced racial... also, drugs, and other type negativity. We've avoided it all, thank God. We have taken pictures, which will be enclosed supposedly, after this recording, and I'll probably come to Australia... eventually.

He's trusted me for everything he's had. Two undercover cops approach us about to go on-duty, saying, `Alright, alright, alright.' I have tons of outstanding warrants... for only consuming alcohol in public. They dare not touch me, for there's no room in the facilities here. Other purposes... I have echelons of command, and they dare not touch me. Commands meaning... affiliation with a clan, non-racial, nonviolent, unless need be.

There's always peace before the storm, and it's quite quiet in the street now. The shelters, which are for homeless, are closed. So that means most of the thieves are in house, or should I say home. One might also say that there's a voluntary curfew - *voluntary* curfew - in the city of Berkeley. In Los Angeles the National Guard has been called out and we're praying for peace. My friend is totally perplexed and he's learning and maybe somebody can get something off this. Right now my English is about to get... hello, kangaroo-ish, I'm gonna jump around.

Approximately 12:20 pm, we're sitting here waiting on persons that are to meet me at our camping spot, commonly known as a crash spot in street linguistics, or should I say street tramping. I and my co'en are to crash together. Of course he's to crash separately, but we'll be less than three feet apart and we'll be well-guarded by my company.

Approximately 2.75 hours preceding this existing conversation, we witnessed things that were happening between Chicanos, which are Mexicans that were American-born, in the ghetto section. Firearm connection, guns cocked, pistols pulled, we moved, down to an area that's called the Flatlands. And we proceeded down to the marina...

We're watching two Hell's Angels... In the background you can probably hear motorcycles departing previously mentioned restaurant. I myself had to fly my colors, which are black...

After my friend paged... I paged my friend, my friend paged me, it took him approximately three minutes. Now my co'en, or my friend from Australia, I welcome to the camp. From here I can see two soldiers on the left, and, I don't know what N[...]'s up to, he went to get a drink before the store closes, and we'll be safe... I want to send a message for the world, we need no more hatred, war or poverty. Fourth time repeated: no more hatred, no more war, no poverty. Au 'voir.

At this point I'm explaining to my co'en that, I'm too scared to fight and too proud to run. At this point *you* might be perplexed. He's just touched my piece, which nobody else does. Piece is a common name in America, for a gun. It's a .44. Not a Magnum, but a .44. It's the most powerful handgun in the world. I'll have to aim at your feet to hit your head. No violence, and that's my thing, but, we have to protect one another. As I say this, in the background, if it's loud enough, you're gonna hear the [deleted] sound. I'm quite well protected, on the streets, and I'm happy, that I could do a favor for a person, an educated person, and maybe he can spread the education that things in the world will get better. The world can get better if we let it be. We gotta change it... all persons. Race, color, or creed, we've got to change this world. Money, financial situations, or everything else, I don't care. I'm out on the streets and I've got more than enough money in my pocket... and I have a credit card in my pocket that can do anything. Though for right now, I'm gonna teach my co'en what tramping, and Americans, are about. Off.

OCCULT SECRET OF POWER REVEALED

The human race wished me to accept the limitations with which it had thoughtfully provided me. Celia Green

Act like a dumbshit and they'll treat you like an equal. J.R. "Bob" Dobbs

The venue for my evening with Wilson seemed to be an abandoned warehouse on the edge of San Francisco. Al wasn't in the donut shop, nor did he seem to be in the long queue outside the warehouse/studio/whatever. Searching my pockets, then my bags, I found I had somehow lost the ticket in the course of sleeping rough in Berkeley and then rushing to SF, but I managed to convince the guy at the door that I had had a ticket by remembering the number (it was `00005'). The space inside was about the size of Mayne Hall; seating for several hundred people had been put in place, and behind and above us were a group of technicians coordinating projectors and lasers used to create interesting pictures on the wall behind RAW as he spoke. The bar was selling smart drinks (but I got the impression harder drugs were being sold in the crowd; someone later asked me if I knew where she could get some Ecstasy) but having only Australian currency left I didn't get anything. Al was inside already, talking to some people he seemed to know from somewhere, so I sat down to wait for the talk. The audience seemed to be largely decadent cyberpunk sophisticates, if you know what I mean; probably lots of independent artists and designers, and young people into the techno/rave scene (a rave was held after RAW finished). But there were a few scruffier individuals such as myself, and even a guy in a black cape and hood carrying a placard emblazoned with four Dobbsheads. In a sense I found the talk a disappointment, but this was mostly because I found much of it familiar from his books. But he started out by telling jokes, first sending up certain fashionable causes (he said he was starting a "Save Our Rats" movement, to rescue lab rats, and suggested reeducation camps for smokers - this part I didn't actually find very funny), and then the state of American electoral politics: saying something along the lines of, "Who do we have to choose from? Well, there's Bush, who wants to prove that the USA is still Number One in at least one area of technology, we can kill more people than anyone else. Then there's Clinton, who says he tried a joint but didn't inhale (and there are people who believe that!). And then there's Ross Perot, who says he wouldn't have gays or adulterers in his cabinet. Who does that leave? If you take away the gay women, and the gay men, and the adulterers, who's left? A bunch of twelve-year-olds who can't vote!" He mentioned two `alternative' campaigns running (neither of which he invented): `Cthulhu for President - Why Always Vote for the *Lesser* Evil?' and `Hannibal Lecter for President: He's Killed Fewer People'. Eventually he got on to the topic he is best known for, the relative or uncertain nature of reality. He mentioned how he had once written an introduction for a book by a "UFOlogist" called George Hunt Williamson (I think) who had been with a magnifying glass of survey photos of the Moon and Mars he obtained from NASA, and had `discovered' hundreds of `industrial structures' proving that there is life on the Moon and it has been hidden from us by the Conspiracy. He wrote Wilson saying would you write an introduction for my book, I'm a great admirer of your work, I'll pay you $500. "I needed the money", said RAW; so he wrote the introduction, saying how it was important to be open to new ideas. Now Williamson has written another book, alleging that giant Masonic symbols are also visible in these same photographs. "At first, I couldn't see what he was talking about", said RAW; "then I smoked some pot, and had another look; and there they were, Masonic symbols on the moon... And the universe is like that, the more you look for evidence to support a particular viewpoint, the more you find..." At this point the lasers drew an eye in a triangle behind him: the All-Seeing Eye which appears on Masonic emblems and the US $1 note, the Eye of Horus resurrected by Aleister Crowley for his Law of Thelema... After a while, the laser-drawn eye began to blink. He spent some time on the anthropomorphism and pettiness of the deities of most religions ("Can you imagine Jehovah inventing something as complex as a carbon atom?") before coming to what I think may be his favorite topic, what writer Hakim Bey calls the "Free Religions" - half-serious half-fun, like the Church of the SubGenius, or Brisbane's own Church of Virtuality/Reality. First he mentioned the John Dillinger Died For You Society, whose members (profess to) believe that the American Depression-era bank robber John Dillinger (St John the Martyr) was in fact the savior. (One of John's immortal aphorisms, "Lie down on the floor and stay calm", a marvellous procedure for dealing with stress, he told to thousands of bank tellers, vice presidents...) Then came Discordianism, which worships Eris, the Greek Goddess of "Chaos, Discord, Confusion, Bureaucracy, and International Relations", the Five Stages of Chaos. Discordianism seems to have been a widespread meta-underground within the 1960s anarchist and psychedelic undergrounds in the US, and has its own holy book, the *Principia Discordia*, wherein one may find such gems as "The Law of Fives": "Everything in the universe can be shown to be related to the number five, *given sufficient ingenuity on the part of the seeker*." (When Wilson demonstrated the Law of Fives with reference to the Great Pyramid of Cheops - "it has five sides - if you count the bottom" - the Eye and Triangle behind him tilted to become a pyramid). Both Discordianism and Dillingerism show up in Wilson's trilogy "Illuminatus!". And finally he came to "Bob". Amid cries of "Praise `Bob'!" from all corners of the audience he gave his version of how "Bob" got started in the Messiah business; Dobbs was just a humble aluminum-siding salesman until one day in 1957 he got stuck in an elevator with L. Ron Hubbard, from whom he learned the Secret of Power, which is this: "You know how dumb the average guy is? Well, mathematically, by definition, half of them are even dumber than that!" Here the lecture ended. There was a brief question period, during which Al asked RAW if he'd heard of ayahuasca. Wilson said no, and at the end Al leapt from the audience and gave him a piece of paper on which he had written about the compound. "He's in the A.:A.: too, it's the sort of thing he'd want to know about", he later explained. Then Wilson left and the crowd filed outside, most of us just to wait for readmission to the rave. Al had booked a room for me at a nearby motel in case I needed somewhere to sleep, but I wanted to stay for the rave, so we bid farewell to each other. I also chatted briefly with the guy carrying the Dobbsheads; he was a member of the Bart Simpson Cabal of Berkeley, and gave me a card certifying that I am a Discordian Pope (giving me license to pontificate on any subject). The rave afterwards was spectacular, but I grew tired and bored after a few hours, so I walked back to the hostel and slept. The next day I flew out of America, heading for home. I've been back for months now. But somehow, things just aren't the same...

THE END...?