Amsterdam 91: The End of the Second Act

The final few weeks in Amsterdam, the end of March through the first weeks of April, were tranquil. That day of reflection had enabled me to put away ambition and to live in peace my final weeks before returning to America. I spent many days at Bloem with Daniel and friends, soaking in their presence, their relaxed manner of living day to day, appreciating the magical way in which they made what appeared to be mundane or routine pregnant with fulfillment. Living well came so naturally and easily for them. They modeled the method and I learned by observing and practicing their pace. They had managed to live an Amazonian shamanism in an urban environment. Accomplishing this in a Westernized city was extraordinary. 

I spent many days alone wandering around the city, occasionally meeting new people, spending an afternoon or evening with them, but often I spent time alone with myself whether out in the city or at home in my apartment. I continued to shroom and the experiences became more rooted even as they expanded. Breathing was becoming a way of life, the form of movement I cherished most. Simply sitting, in my apartment or in a cafe, looking out onto the streets at the people passing by, at the architecture of the buildings, listening to the sounds of cycles and cars and conversation, of the rain falling, of the wind whipping, feeling the warmth inside and the bracing cold outside, feeling the light and darkness of day and night and artificial light, savoring pastries and espressos and beers, and being transported by the smells of bakeries. 

I experienced none of the ecstatic highs of the early days. I had become part of the rhythms of the city and they matched the rhythms within me. I spoke very little those last few weeks, mostly observing through sensation, allowing feelings and thoughts to come and go, to remain still whether sitting or moving. I knew the entire enterprise was coming to a conclusion, but I rarely felt pangs of attachment, of wanting to stay forever, of dreading my departure. 

The day before I left I felt a deep sadness, but it had the potent fragrance of ripened fruit. I could recall all experiences I'd had without even remembering them. They were simply there, accessible. I didn't dwell on them or feel nostalgia, but as I sat alone most of the last day, simply looking out the window while drinking coffee, smoking cannabis, and listening to quiet music, they meshed with the steady drizzle outside. 

Susanne, the woman who had rented her apartment to me, returned from the Caribbean during my last couple of days in Amsterdam. I had decided to stay an extra week so she was surprised that I was still there when she returned. I offered to leave and stay at a hotel for my final days so she could have her apartment to herself after such a long time away, but she insisted that I stay. We had a couple of lovely conversations and I learned more about her. 

She was a fascinating woman. She was around 60 years old and during the 1970s she, her boyfriend, and some friends drove an RV to India. They were hippies. She described how different the world was at that time, how it was possible to drive through Afghanistan and the Middle East. Not that the trip was without its perils, but the times were different; it was before Russia had invaded Afghanistan, before the U.S. had invaded Iraq. A simpler time. She and her boyfriend, who later became her husband, became Buddhists and it seemed that that was due mostly to their experiences in India. She was retired, but she had worked in some fashion, an import/export business, between The Netherlands and India. She still had friends there, a point which would become important in the future, though neither of us knew that at the time. In fact, had I not stayed those extra days which allowed us to get to know one another, I'm not sure there would have been a future between us. But, that's the wonder of travel, of being open to possibilities when meeting others who are open to possibilities. 

I had come to appreciate Buddhism through my shrooming and meditative experiences during my stay. I couldn't formally call my way of life or my way of thinking Buddhist because I had read very little about it. However, it's no accident that shrooming often leads to a mindset and outlook and lifestyle that is commensurate with Buddhism according to what I later learned. And when I later read about the practices and thinking of Buddhism I realized that coming to those Ways would have been impossible for me by only reading. Shrooming, at least the way I was creating my experiences, led to living a way akin to a confluence of Buddhism, shamanism, aestheticism, and athleticism. My compassion for myself and others had expanded, my appreciation of life had been renewed, and my wonder at natural and human-created beauty and design had flourished. 

A lifetime had passed since I had fallen into despair and wondered if there was any reason to continue living, and yet it was only seven months earlier that I had felt that way. When I had sat in front of my computer in Madison, Wisconsin, after finishing a work project with no immediate work to do in the coming weeks, I felt nothing, thought nothing. There was just a hollow within me, the result of a years-long depression chewing away at whatever I had previously valued in life. The depression didn't just arise from divorce, from aging, from physical ailments; it was American life, a culture of material deadness, meaningless production, empty consumerism, a place with no outlet for the soul, a place not conducive to being human in the ways I needed to be human. 

My deepest wonder was whether it would be possible to integrate the way of life I had developed in Amsterdam into a life in the United States. What would I do if that proved to be impossible? I barely considered the question before discarding it. My focus was entirely on consciously integrating a life of wonder and creativity and openness and play combined with compassion, kindness, and courage when I landed back in the states. 

I spent my last night with Daniel at Bloem. There were few customers that night and I stayed late, well past closing, and it was just Daniel and I who drank beer while we talked deep into the night. I wasn't sure if or when I would return to Amsterdam. Neither of us felt a deep sadness about this. Somehow, it seemed inevitable that I would return, but I really wondered about that that night as I walked home. I had given the keys to my bike to Daniel, telling him that I'd rather he use it or find a friend who needed a bike rather than just let it remained locked at a stand for no reason.

I woke up the next day, showered and packed for my flight, had breakfast with Susanne, and then called a taxi to take me to the airport. I rode in silence watching the rain as we went. It had been some time since I had been outside the city center and surrounding neighborhoods so the shock of seeing the ugliness of 20th-century functional utility was pronounced. I knew it was going to be even worse when I arrived in Chicago and took the commuter to Madison. As I picked up my ticket at Schiphol and made my way to the gate, I realized more fully that I was leaving and really--really--might never return. I had spent a lot of money each trip, especially the first. I was going to need time to bring my finances back up before I could even think of returning. 

Fortunately, I had to focus on getting through customs, which was surprisingly easy, and then getting some food before the flight. I was exhausted from being out late the previous night and hadn't thought ahead to bring food with me. The only restaurant that was open inside my gate was McDonald's. I made myself order a quarter pounder with cheese because I didn't want to be hungry on the flight. It was a terrible mistake. I had truly forgotten how greasy and artificial American food was. I felt nauseous after eating a few bites and couldn't stomach more than a few fries. Within minutes, I made a beeline to the restroom and squatted on the toilet. A furious spray of sewage spewed from my asshole. Even though I was somewhat relieved, I could still feel the coating of grease lining my insides. Such a stupid fucking mistake.

Again, though, it distracted me from the fact that I was leaving Amsterdam. Once seated on the flight, I felt more relaxed. I thought I would sleep, but I couldn't for whatever reason. I was extremely happy I hadn't slept when the plane flew over the southern portion of Greenland. The glaciers were magnificent, otherworldly, absolutely mammoth. I took several photos and then offered the woman sitting next to me a chance to sit next to the window so she could look out. She was thrilled. Once we had passed Greenland, we had a lovely chat. She was from Rotterdam and, oddly, a Christian. I couldn't recall meeting any Christians in Holland previously. It made sense that there were some, but it was still surprising. I thoroughly enjoyed the conversation with her and she had none of the earmarks of fundamentalist or evangelical Christians. I didn't get her denomination, but whatever it was it seemed Christian in the best sense as she was welcoming, kind, and excited about traveling to America. She even got me to become mildly excited about returning. I had forgotten how America was perceived by some foreigners, that it had had a reputation as a wonderfully diverse democracy before George W. Bush started unnecessary and lawless military invasions of other countries. For this woman, at least, it still held the promise of the possibility of a better tomorrow. I wasn't sure if she was naive or just culturally filled with Dutch optimism.

We exchanged contact information as we disembarked and then waited forever to get through customs. It was a madhouse: hot, congested, noisy, chaotic, and confusing. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason in the setup. After over an hour in line, I finally got through. After that, chaos reigned again. I finally figured out which terminal I needed and barely made it to my gate on time to board my flight. Fortunately, there was plenty of space on the puddle jumper to Madison so I was able to stretch out and relax, finally falling asleep once we took flight.

The good thing about arriving in a small airport is that navigating is easy and luggage is unloaded fairly quickly. I was able to get an airport transport back to the house I was renting from my friend who lived in Minneapolis. It was a nice day, too, partly sunny and the temperature in the 60s. It was a bit weird to think in Fahrenheit again, but I discovered I liked it. I was even excited as the cab pulled up to the house. I adjusted my watch to local time which was around 4 PM. I unloaded all of my bags with the help of the cabbie. I got a kick out of hearing his Wisconsin accent, too. 

Once I was inside I was pleased to see how clean I had left the apartment. I left all my luggage by the door, went to the kitchen to drink water, and then marched upstairs to my bedroom. I threw off most of my clothes, whipped back the blankets and sheet, and slid into bed. I was out instantly.

A Message from Q

I have information that pertains to an understanding being presented as a misunderstanding to perpetrate the illusion of confusion among followers who have interpreted messages correctly by falsely claiming to have interpreted messages correctly without understanding they were interpreting messages correctly under the guise of convincing the fake news that the theories presented are correctly false which has had the effect of making anons chase their tail in the guise of the deep state chasing its tail illuminating the location of the deep state within the psyche of the boogaloo which is really the oolagoob, the followers of which are goobers calling themselves goobs but in reality are hiding in plain site as rubes. 

Rubes have used the Rubik’s cube to unlock the matrix which contains the evidence of truth underlying all pedophile rings which have been disbanded to be rebranded as birth control kings using sex with minors as a front to prevent the passing of genetic information to a new generation who could have become rubes under the rubric of dupes playing the part of patsies for the indelible return of an Orwellian strategy disregarded as up-is-downism but in reality is triple-speak disguised as hate-means-love-means-hate as hatred is not the new love but that hate is declared the new love under which the old hate can survive undeterred by the anti-Christian masses which is the Real Christianity espoused by Jesus under double speak but distorted through triple speak unraveled by goobs in the fifth dimension of understanding to fool the rubes who, through an ignorant cunning, have accidentally discovered the truth which has been distorted accidentally on purpose by Hmerica fronting as America which has been known since ancient times as Chimeria and intentionally obfuscated as Merica, Murrica, Mrica, and Mysterical all most definitely defined by mystery, an abomination hiding the truth through the furtherance of uncertainty most clearly exposed in Animal Farm which was the precursor to Animal House in which belligerence was presented as preferable to order and mimicked throughout college campuses in the 1980s by unwitting Chads who were really Biffs dating Muffys before becoming U.S. Senators who employed Neidermeyers as civil servants who have since become the inheritors of the deep state.

Anons may declare their understanding of these truths by stating, “Thank you, sir, may I have another?” This may be conveyed through Internet chatter, displayed on signs at protests and rallies, or spray painted on public walls throughout Chimeria which stretches far beyond Hmerica’s borders but invisibly except when viewed through the ultraviolet light of riddle theology. This indicates a sign of knowing that fraternizing is the beginning of fraternity which is always associated with secret handshakes, gestures, signals, sayings, facial expressions, and clothing colors which can be identified correctly by other goobs who have incorrectly deciphered the messages as the destruction of order for the sake of the belligerence of chaos which is absurd and unintentionally dada without any realization that rubes’ souls are being deadened in a delightful fit of game playing with no rules other than that the truth must remain hidden for it to exist as truth, for whatever is understood is necessarily fake as evidence is tantamount to lying and lying is a commandment articulated through Moses the Jew through Orwellian doublespeak reversed through time in a Norman Rockwell painting as Rockwell equals Roswell where aliens have been infiltrating the U.S. government for hundreds of thousands of years before the U.S. government ever came into existence through time travel enabled by the alien idea presented in Einstein’s theories of specific and general relativity before time travel existed so that time travel could exist and thus be brought into being after the fact and before the happening.

The Chimerian deep state of Hmerica is run by the deep state of Russia which was infiltrated by the deep state of China which was created by the deep state of Hmerica after the most righteously vile Nazis who perished were resurrected unwittingly by Israeli Holocaust survivors who were spelled by CIA voodoo learned from Jamaican Rastafarians who had existed secretly as freed slaves who were originally white Africans who had purposefully pigmented their skin to blend with black African tribes before Western civilization began. The Aryans of the North which are understood as Nordic inflamed themselves into purified being from Icelandic volcanoes in the eighth century AD, which was really BC as BC is Because and AD is really D.A. the code of Kamala the shallow-state VP candidate, after tunneling from the Swiss Matterhorn during the Paleozoic Era well into the Holocene Epoch of the Quaternary Era. 

This provided the beginnings of the pedophilia movement learned from the Chinese but perfected by ancient Greeks who passed down the practice through secret scrolls hidden in the anuses of Hasidic Jews, without their knowledge, which eventually became part of their DNA passed down to European and Russian Jews which, upon discovery by Hitler, necessitated the attempt to eradicate them through death camp genocide. The Gypsies, disabled, and mentally ill were also exterminated just in case they might be carriers of perverted alien DNA, but this idea was actually a ploy by the Illuminati who had discovered that what we today call schizophrenics and bipolars were really Aryan shamans who had correctly predicted the coming of chemtrails. Thus, Hitler and the Nazis accidentally eradicated many of the greatest prophets of the early twentieth century by being fooled by propaganda perpetrated by fake Nazis who were in fact the homosexual liberals posing as fascist capitalists who would eventually start the Bilderberg society in 1954 which gave rise to the Hmerica deep state that was run by the deep state of Russia which was infiltrated by the deep state of China which was originally created by the deep state of Hmerica. 

Academic historian transgendered immigrants managed to fool the generations before the glorious rise of the goobs hiding in plain sight as rubes into believing that a fake history accurately described the Nazi rule, the Holocaust, the Soviet Union, communism, and the emerging liberal deep state antithetical to Hmerica through the obfuscation of the shallow-state America of national elections, congressional legislation, judicial case law, and public policies, none of which impact the actual functioning of the state at the deepest levels which are controlled by Bildergers like Hillary Clinton, Bill Gates, and George Soros, all of whom have been perverted through alien DNA which uses quantum Jewishness and cosmic blackness to form love in the form of hate in the form of love which was manufactured in Area 51 by ancient aliens hundreds of thousands of years before the United States was formed and has periodically been injected into individuals who are not known to be Jews or blacks but are nevertheless so in both a psychic sense and within the deliberate falsehood of genetic manipulations which disturb the Aryan purity that was forged by volcanic fire.

It is false to believe Hillary Clinton started the pedophile ring being run out of a pizza parlor. She was the witting front for the site, but had nothing to do with pedophilia perpetrations performed perpetually. Only the patriots know the real story which must remain hidden through “Lock Her Up” chants when in fact, as I have learned recently through double-triple secret Aryan Knights of Templar agents within the deep state, the chants carry the meaning of “Keep Her Free.” The reason for this is the result of a double-blind study performed by organically manifesting white-power albinos who live in underground tunnels among the mole people who have kept them from being discovered by the Illuminati for centuries. The Holy Albinos have deciphered the truth of the purposes of “Lock Her Up” in the form of keeping her free so that the extent of the worldwide liberal Democratic pedophile ring can be more vociferously tracked by Donald Trump’s uber-secret reincarnated SS squads. Epstein was really a hero who knew the truth about Bill Clinton’s depravity and that of the progressive wing of the ultra-feminist black-empowerment DNC that runs the global structure of the pedophile trade. The world’s drug cartels and Chinese communists act as organized crime and political fronts for the pedophile system that controls the world’s genetic makeup. Pedophiles don’t even know they are part of a genetic plot to destroy the Aryan race; they are simply instruments for the Democratic Illuminati deep state that is trying to prevent pure genes from reproducing so as to muddy humanity with blackness and Jewness. 

That’s what they would have you believe, anyway. The truth is that the global pedophile ring is performing the function of preventing mutant genes from reproducing. By converting the mutants into pedophiles, the Aryan purity remains safe from dilution. This is the real reason why Area 51 came into existence. Right now, the entire world is made up of alien Aryan super humans thanks to the clandestine conversion of potential abominations into pedophiles so that their genes won’t be passed on. All races and ethnicities are purposefully pigmented Aryan aliens who have the Quest for Truth hidden within their DNA. There are no blacks, Mexicans, Asians, Arabs, Jews, Slavs, or any other supposed abomination. In fact, there are no men or women or transgenders. There is only one race, one gender. Cocks and pussies are similar to the shallow governments we see on the surface of politics; the deep state of the body, within genes, reveals perfect racial and gendered purity. Reproduction is an illusion; population is an illusion. There is only one body, one soul, one consciousness, and all manifestations are surface-level fake news reports about differences. 

The purpose of these fake differences is to perpetuate the purity of the species until the Dawn of the New Age occurs, during which what has remained hidden will be revealed and the eternal joy of perfection will shine throughout the quantum and the cosmic which are really one and the same. This Age will be followed by the Ceasing of Being which has been determined in the distant future by the time traveling quadruple agents of ancient alien Aryan heritage to be the moment beyond which things would just get really fucked up and utterly nonsensical. It is at the moment of True Dada that all being ceases because the cycling of chaos and order has been discovered to be boring and the only possibility following that realization is nihilism without any schadenfreude which has been interpreted as being the height of your pointless QAnon game-playing existence in which you are dupes engaged in a ridiculous conspiracy theory designed to make you feel superior without actually attaining any real or true superiority. Or, Q I Am and You Are Ham.