The psychonaut's guide to the multiverse.

A Collection of Jokes from god himself

Although violence and loss are a natural part of life and laughing can be good medicine for mental health, I find these jokes totally abhorrent and utterly tasteless. Do not read them, I am just reblogging to voice my opinion on these disgusting ‘jokes.’

completelynormal:

• “Fuck those lazy people who didn’t think, ‘Hey maybe we should do something considering we’re flying through the streets of New York City’.”
• “‘Did you hear the one about the New York City firefighter?’
  ‘No’
  ‘He died because he stupidly ran into a 110-story building that was on fire’.”
• “People say that the passengers on Flight 93 were heroes because they forced the plane down in a field. You know what I say? I say that an innocent patch of grass died because of their insensitivity! NEVER FORGET…RIP Pennsylvania grass.”
• “We all hate commuting, don’t we? God, I drive into New York every day and it’s a hassle. Do you know the only commute worse than Long Island-to-Manhattan? The commute from the 110th story to the street below.”

• Also, this.

BONUS NEW ORLEANS JOKE:

• “Way to build your city below sea level in between a lake, a river, and the Gulf of Mexico. That’s what happens when your city is planned by French homos in powdered wigs and built by dirty slaves. What’s wrong? Couldn’t find a muddy hill in an earthquake zone to build it on? I’ve got an idea…let’s build a city out of fire and AIDS.”

-Anthony

The Third Man Factor

I just heard about this book; it seems very interesting.

The Third Man Factor is a biography of an extraordinary idea: That people at the very edge of death, often adventurers or explorers, experience a sense of an incorporeal being beside them who encourages them to make one final effort to survive.

If only a handful of people had ever experienced the Third Man, it might be dismissed as an unusual delusion shared by a few overstressed minds. But the amazing thing is this: over the years, the experience has occurred again and again, to 9/11 survivors, mountaineers, divers, polar explorers, prisoners of war, solo sailors, aviators and astronauts. All have escaped traumatic events only to tell strikingly similar stories of having experienced the close presence of a helper or guardian.

The mysterious force has been explained as everything from hallucination to divine intervention. Recent neurological research suggests something else. In The Third Man Factor John Geiger combines history, scientific analysis and great adventure stories to explain this secret to survival, a Third Man who — in the words of legendary Italian climber Reinhold Messner — “leads you out of the impossible.”

http://thirdmanfactor.igloocommunities.com/

ever feel this way?

“under moonlight”

at the edge we looked down. “it’s a long way to the bottom” jeff stared, “at least five hundred feet.”  a tiny river in the distance sparkled in the light of the full moon. there were no clouds, just bright twinkling stars that seemed to pulsate to the rhythm of the night. the sky was a dark shade of blue-purple with a misty violet. the grass, each blade blowing in the brisk breeze appeared light blue and nursed fresh dew that was beginning to soak into the bottom of my faded old blue jeans. the wind rustled through the few scattered trees behind us playing in their branches making a sound more beautiful than the greatest of all man made instruments. the mountain range beyond the river watched over us with an interested grin.

“do you think he…” i knew he was thinking it, but i didn’t want to finish saying it. i pondered the possibility, but the moment the full thought of the reality filled my mind it shot right back out like a magnet pressed against the wrong side of another magnet.

“i don’t know, i mean…” jeff stared down past the cliff and the rocks, as if looking for a sign on the earth below. nothing. nothing visible at least. we could only see blue, the rays of the moon bouncing off the millions of tiny blades of grass below; all wet with dew and swaying in the breeze. we’re not accustomed to moonlight. it has a certain effect on people. on perception. everything you see at night is filtered once by a huge reflective sphere that appears to glow and run laps around the sky. how ridiculous. how beautiful.

the overwhelming intensity of it all; of my thoughts, of what just happened, of existence. it grabs me. my eyes swell up. the tears dampen the sweat on my face and my eyes begin to burn. tiny rivers glimmering in the moonlight slip down my cheeks and my fists clench into furious white balls of frustration. i get chills; goosebumps and my skin begins to crawl at the same time. anxious, my gut clenches and i feel nauseous. why do i have to face this burden? why doesn’t anybody understand?

i dive. falling; the cold air rushing past feels like water falling down on me and i feel like i’m being cleansed. all of that negativity has been ripped away and i wish i could live like this forever. my shirt is flapping violently against my face, slapping me, keeping me awake; telling me i don’t want to miss this. the millions of tiny blades of grass all seem so real to me now, each one with their own drops of dew, reaching up to greet me; waiting until they can soak into my old faded blue jeans as they blow in the breeze.

chapter 2 - skeleton/rough draft

driving home i notice the repetition in everything. the buildings, the streets, the signs; it’s all the same, not only on a molecular level, but on a plainly visible level as well. it’s all very boring to me now, and somehow revealing. i am only entertained when i peer below the surface; the true meaning, the endless history and perceived necessity of it all and the ultra-advanced technology and the trillions of man hours dissecting the science behind everything applied to the production of all of this; of the backbone of our culture. the source of strength of our country, the biggest step in sociological evolution; the cause of this repetition, of the de-humanizing state we currently face. our friend, our ally, our enemy: industry. it sickens me, in two ways, it sickens me.
 
i pull into my building’s lot jumping out of my car running up the stairs, toward my door like a little kid home from a bad day at school. the apartment belongs to my sister Beth; after our parents died the summer before last i started living with her. she’s twenty five and works as a nurse at Tampa general hospital. she has a certain pride and seems like she is able to handle any task. i feel inadequate when i compare myself to her, which is all the time. she always received good grades in school. i could have done well in school; i am considerably above average intellectually, but i don’t like applying it in that type of atmosphere. i never felt in control when i was at school; like i was a prisoner there. i had to learn what they wanted me to learn. to do what they told me to do. i had no freedom, and this seemed to be against my nature. i could not excel in a prison, and i believed any attempt at doing so would justify their system; i rebelled. i skipped class, went to school intoxicated, argued with my teachers about politics and war. I’ve always told that i was too smart for my own good, that i should just apply it and stop misbehaving. who says I’m misbehaving though? who’s to say it’s not them that are all wrong? i dropped out when they died.
 
i believed i was smarter than the other kids while i was there because i realized that the place was just a part of some system i didn’t want anything to do with. i read all of the time on my own. i still study on my own, science, history, technology, literature, philosophy and i am currently trying to predict the future, mostly to forget the past. my sister though; it was easy for her to excel within the system. i think she actually enjoyed it; doing well and being praised by her teachers, by our parents. she always knew she had a place in this society; she just wants to help people and she has easily and quickly made it into a very fruitful career. she’s one of those people who just seems to know what’s going on in her life all the time, and who knows exactly what to do; apparently in total control of her own destiny. so confident, so angelic and faultless. like the heroine of an ancient myth, half goddess, half human. when we were younger she would tell me that it didn’t matter what i amounted to, that i was her little brother, and that was enough to earn her love and she would always be there for me. 
 
it was mid-afternoon when i came inside. “where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”  Beth looks upset, but almost like she’s hiding a smile; happy to see me but obviously troubled. “I’ve been at my friend’s house, my cell phone died and i didn’t have a ride home. i left my car at Jessica’s and they didn’t go back there until just today.” intentionally leaving the part about going crazy out of my explanation. “well didn’t any of the people you were with have phones?” she says looking at me with a sort of sense of wonder, almost like she’s trying to understand what’s going on inside my head. maybe she could tell i was different, does it show? what’s giving it away? “yeah, they probably did, but i didn’t want to hassle them with it, besides I’m 19 now, you’re going to have to get used to this.” annoyed i add a bit of attitude out and continue, “i wont be living here forever either! don’t worry, I’ll be gone soon enough!” i instantly regret saying that. we haven’t talked about it yet, and this is a bad time to bring it up. ever since the accident it’s seems our relationship has been strained. we don’t talk about it. we don’t talk about family issues or feelings at all anymore. we read our books and discuss them. we talk about our day, but i know, and i know she knows, we don’t talk about certain things that are on both of our minds.
 
“yeah, i guess you’re an adult now, but that doesn’t mean you should leave me worrying about you like that.” i feel bad. i was being selfish; i should have called, but i didn’t want to look like a child in front of the others and i didn’t want to end up crying on the phone or admitting that i was losing my mind. “you’re right, i should have called. I’m sorry; i love you.” i hug her. “i love you too.” 
 
“I’m going to grab a shower and go to bed. i barely slept all weekend, so tell anyone who calls the house line that I’m sleeping.” i say and walk into the kitchen. 
 
“no problem, i don’t know what you did, but you look like you need some rest” slipping off into her room she closes the door behind her, but leaves it open just a crack. she turns on her night stand light, the one she uses for reading. i think she’s reading Fitzgerald or Faulkner; she likes the classics, while i prefer more contemporary authors. it just seems more relevant; if you’re going to read fiction, it might as well be relevant. 
 
i pour myself a glass of water. it is the purist water i have ever had. it tastes like sunlight. it reminds me of the warm spot on the carpet at the old house where you could see the bright beams of light shine through the window by the couch at an angle hitting the soft red carpet creating a lighter colored red rectangle of warmth on the ground; my dad in the couch and I beside him in my Batman undies belly down on the sunny spot on the carpet in our old living room.
 
I’m in my bed alone now. alone in my room with the lights off; the lights off and darkness all around. shadows of images trick me into seeing things, startling me. two cities away from the bathroom in which i had what i guess you might say is an ‘epiphany.’ still shaken, and still thinking differently, but with such a feeling of peace and comfort. the worst most terrifying occurrence in my life had just taken place and i was glad for it. my eyes were opened, i can finally see that there is more to this life than it seems, and i am grateful. grateful to be alive, to breathe the fresh air once more, to be near someone i love and to have some proof that there is a God, or at least some spiritual side to this existence. i can now believe that there is truth and beauty. like the contrast between light and dark, they say there can be no good without evil, and i can confirm this theory. not only do good and evil exist, but first-hand experience of pure evil will allow you to experience the most divine nature of that which is good, i am convinced.
 
it was not myself who brought me out of despair, it wasn’t anyone, but when i called out and pleaded, there was an answer. what do i do now? until now i wasn’t sure if i even believed in god, as a matter of fact, i had stayed up nights questioning the existence of god. i had stayed up nights questioning the concept of existence. this had always been a problem for me, sleepless nights full of restless thoughts; eternity, creation, existence, science, nature, time, space, reality, EVERYTHING. by nature I’m highly analytical. i am a philosopher and i question everything, but to me last night left no doubt in my mind that there is something under the surface of this thing we call existence. I want to find out more, but I don’t know where to turn. Maybe the church, but I’ve had bad experiences with church.
 
My parents, when they were alive were Christians, my mom was Catholic and my dad a Lutheran. We generally went to the Catholic mass but they were always arguing over doctrine and beliefs. I remember dad took me to his church once and my mom found out and they screamed at each other for hours. The name calling, the rivalry; there was nothing holy about it, and they weren’t even devout Christians, she drank and he stayed out all night on the weekend, coming home at 3 or 4 a.m. he’d waker her up and the screaming would wake me and Beth up and she would reassure me that not everyone is like that; we don’t have to be like that when we grow up. she said she’d protect me and wouldn’t let me be like them. neither of us would. it seemed that the arguing always degenerated to the least common denominator which was their religion. mom’s family apparently told her not to marry dad because of his beliefs, but she did it anyway, that’s what mom said.
 
they were both hippies back in the 60’s and they got married in the summer of love; 1969. back then neither of them went to church, but when grandma died mom started making us go to mass every Sunday. dad would stay home sometimes and on very rare occasions Beth and i would stay home too. one Sunday mom didn’t get home until late in the evening. dad was mad, he accused her of cheating on him and she said she was just with her church friends having a drink. she was drunk, i remember that night; to me at age eight, she didn’t smell like mom, she didn’t look like mom; i thought it was someone else pretending to be our mom.

On the Horizon

I’ve been toying with the idea of producing a new mainstream blog devoid of spirituality, drug references and general unprofessionality; looking for a higher quality style of journalism on the topics of politics, economics, science and technology.

I will continue to update this blog (with less frequency as time goes by) as I am inspired. It will become sort of an abstract journal of interests, creative literature and revolutionary propaganda.

This means no more reblogs and minimal citations; readers of ’The Psychonauts Guide to the Multiverse’ will appreciate my efforts to cook up some new raw subject matter and season it with my own style of journalistic sauce. Always a cinic, never lacking hope; stagnat rivers of rusty old adjectives splashing at the hooves of a golden armor-clad sinewy white warhorse. It’ll leave a tangy-sour sweetness on your brain.

You’ll know when it’s here.

'Is Mortgage Refinancing Right For You?'

William K Nelson

August 20th, 2009

Mortgage refinancing is becoming a more viable option for many homeowners this year. It is currently not as easy to refinance a mortgage as it was during the housing boom but even in today’s economic recession people have been saving money through mortgage refinancing. Before making a decision, it is important to understand all the variables involved in refinancing your mortgage. It is also profitable to weigh your options when it comes to mortgage refinancing; shopping around and seeing what different lenders are offering can save you a lot of money on your new mortgage. You’ll need to educate yourself if you want to get the most out of mortgage refinancing.

Should you even bother with mortgage refinancing? For some people mortgage refinancing may increase interest rates. The reason for this is their credit score. If your credit score has improved since your original mortgage, then mortgage refinancing may be for you. Lenders are more likely to apply a lower interest rate to a refinanced mortgage if you have good credit. The inverse is also true; if your credit score has gone down since your original mortgage, then mortgage refinancing may increase your interest rate. You can find your credit score online to see if it has improved, then use it to get quotes while comparing mortgage refinancing lenders.

For those who are eligable for mortgage refinancing, the average interest rate has dropped to 5% which may be incentive enough for some to want to dive head first into mortgage refinancing. There are still some concepts about mortgage refinancing that must be understood first. Principal payment versus interest payment is one of these mortgage refinancing concepts. Most mortgage lenders require the borrower to pay most of the interest with little principal at first, slowly increasing the amount applied toward the principal with each payment. Mortgage refinancing may not be a good idea if you’ve had your current mortgage for so long that you’ve paid (or nearly paid) off all of the interest. Another thing to think about before mortgage refinancing is the fees that will come along with the loan. These may include an application fee, loan origination fee, appraisal fee, inspection and survey fees as well as FHA, RDS and VA fees for government insured loans. Some mortgage refinancing lenders will consolidate the fees into the principle making them easier to pay.

There may be some obstacles between you and mortgage refinancing. If your credit score is not high enough to get the best mortgage refinancing interest rates, the first thing you should do is work on your credit balance. It may also be difficult or impossible to acheive mortgage refinancing if the value of your home has dropped below what you owe on your current mortgage. Mortgage refinancing is also very hard if you have a home equity loan or a second mortgage because the original lender would have to ‘subordinate’ their loan meaning they’d have to allow their loan to be paid after the new mortgage refinancing loan is paid. Most lenders are unwilling to do this because of the risk involved.

After reviewing the facts and doing a little research on mortgage refinancing on your own it should be easy to come to the conclusion of whether or not mortgage refinancing is the best course of action for your financial stability. If your credit score is high and you haven’t paid off too much of your original mortgage’s interest yet, mortgage refinancing may be a suitable option for you. Mortgage refinancing can save you money; you just have to know what you’re doing and find the right lender.

Nuclear Weapon Disarmament

Do you ever just wish things were like they were during WWII? To see what it’s like to actually have faith in your government, to believe that the wars they are fighting are justified, to know that your friends and relatives in the military are fighting against an evil empire and not for one.

I think it’s been about sixty-five years since America has been a beacon of hope to this God forsaken world we’re living in. The Japanese people didn’t deserve to be bombed toward the end of WWII. America was just so tired of losing soldiers and sick of war itself that we didn’t care how it ended as long as we came out on top. The minute those bombs were dropped our country changed; the world changed. We stopped being the great liberating force of freedom and became something to be feared and rightfully so. For this reason it is understandable for other countries to use us for an example and start nuclear weapons programs; they are afraid.

I agree with nuclear disarmament mostly because it is a step back in weapons technology; Obama is right in admitting that having the ability to kill hundreds of thousands of people with one weapon is a bad thing. I welcome this advance in human civilization because it is a possible gateway for the abolishment of other weapons of mass destruction like chemical and biological warfare. All other countries might not follow our lead at first, but I think the international tensions will be lightened so much that we will at least gain respect and allies as we show our humanitarian side and establish our long lost role as the ‘good guys’ once again. Eventually though if nuclear disarmament was real in America other countries would follow suit, and as for the threat of attacks on a nuke-free America; those who launched the attack would most likely be considered malicious by most of the world and fought against with ferocity that hasn’t been displayed since we put Nazi Germany in it’s place.

The cinic might say, “but tyrants wont fear us anymore! they will attack us!” but I am not so sure that ‘fear tactics’ are the best way to go about global politics. You might not want to fight the bully on the block because you’re scared of him, but you sure as hell wont invite him to any of your birthday parties! The same goes for international policy; if we prove to be a threatening country, other countries will not look to us for guidance and we’ll eventually be just like the empirical nations we fought so valiantly against in the Great World Wars of the 1900’s.

Remember where you are, and what you're doing right now.

because I have epic news.

THE FINANCIAL CRISIS IS OVER. EVERYTHING WILL BE BETTER THAN EVER BY THE END OF 2009.

you heard it here first fellow psychonauts. i have no sources to cite but my own intuition, which i assure you is more accurate than any economist’s number crunching mumbo jumbo.

optimized momentum

dear followers, i love you all; there i said it. i don’t care how you feel about me, it just feels good to get that off of my chest.

also; i am looking for a little criticism (constructive or otherwise) on my writing. after years of poetry, short stories and journalism i’m making my first attempt at a novel. if you’ve read the rough draft of my first chapter and want to help me out, contact me:

e-mail:     Williamknelson@hotmail.com

facebook: www.facebook.com/williamknelson

twitter:    www.twitter.com/williamknelson

even if you don’t want to read my literature but feel compelled to contact me for any reason feel free to do so.

rough draft of a chapter from a fiction book i'm writing.

Death. it consumes my thoughts, there’s no escaping; neither in my mind nor in reality; if reality exists anymore. the people i’m here with wouldn’t understand even if i wanted to explain it to them; no they are just too simple minded. there’s jessica, an attractive petite blonde with a cute alternative sense of fashion; about a year younger than me at 17, whom i have a slight crush on for her confidence and beauty. growing up in a mostly male atmosphere; she has a slightly masculine energy, very dominant, but also timid. it’s hard to pin down what she’s thinking or how she’s feeling. a tom boy struggling to be perceived as a desirable sex symbol, occasionally flashing glimpses of her bright white boy cut panties then eyeing me quickly to gauge my reaction. she spoke with a sort of fun-loving chatter, giggling often in conversation ending her laughter with her tongue and teeth making a slight hissing sound. she doesn’t seem like the kind who would want to hold an intelligent conversation though, keeping the subjects shallow and more or less optimistic. Josh, the guy who’s house it is I just met, so it’s not fair to judge him, but he doesn’t seem too intellectually involved either. he owns many video games, and has playboy magazines sitting out in his house. i wonder if he gets any women, probably some, but i doubt he’s a stud. this used to be his mom’s house and now he lives here alone. i’m not sure how old he is but if i had to guess i’d say about 23. in any case, i might as well let them continue playing video games and watching cartoons. i wont try to talk to them about any of this psycho-babble going on in my head; i’ll just keep it to myself. perhaps i shouldn’t have taken that last hit of lsd, i’m sure ten hits would have been enough for a first time experience, but to hell with it. i can handle anything, i can take anything and i want to EXPERIENCE everything.
 
about another hour into the night and i’m having full visual hallucinations and mild schizophrenia “you’re going to have to stay the night” josh says as he stares at me, pupils as wide and empty as two gaping black holes, “i’m tripping way too hard to drive.” now i have no way of getting home and i’m in the middle of an intense panic attack coupled with extreme psychosis, “if i’m staying, you better give me two more hits,” i know it’s a bad idea, but like a rubber-necked onlooker passing a violent car accident something inside me, something curious desires, craves, NEEDS this experience. jessica rips off another hit for herself and smiling, places two hits on my tongue with her index finger slightly trembling.  they’re both grinning widely at me, bursting into short spurts of laughter their faces transition into those of demons, a sort of evil gargoyle imagery exposing some evil secret. they change back to humans, but i can still see it in their black beady eyes, i know what they are. they cannot hide it from me, not anymore. there is something deeply wrong with them, perhaps they’re harboring some nasty spirit, or maybe they are just disturbed people, or maybe i’m just losing my mind. in any case i am painfully aware of their hidden identities and this knowledge adds to my paranoia and fuels the insanity.
 
death… there it is again, creeping into my mind, images of carnage, memories of things i wish i had never seen but did, burnt into my brain. like an external force hijacking my own mind. these images taunt me, teasing with hissing laughter. biting me, poisoning me with a stinging sorrow and wrapping their cold scaly bodies around every jumbled thought i manage to produce. the simple process of thinking is like trying to read a book with scrambled words and some asshole screaming obscenities two inches from my face. the air is breathing, pulsating, exhaling something rotten out from the emptiness like black oil or embalming fluid; heavy restless ugliness, smothering me, encasing me in a thick putrid darkness. i am sinking into it. it fills my lungs. i am drowning, i am going to die. helpless; i am dying at this very moment and i know it. nobody to rescue me, nobody who loves me, no true friend nor family member for miles. i want my mom. there are only demons here and they want nothing more than to see me dead. i feel completely hollow inside, a gutted carcass hanging on a meat hook, waiting to be hacked into manageable pieces and consumed. completely void of everything with any real meaning, especially my own sanity. i am not sane. or am i? there is nothing, nothing but the void and my lonely helplessness to magnify it.
 
For hours this continues, i see things scurrying around the room, things that don’t exist, or do they exist? I lose track of what is real and what isnt. People come and go, Jessica’s cousin stays the night. He eats the leftover acid and keeps me up all night hacking his lungs up to the tune of J.R.R. Tolkien’s  “golemn, golemn” He’s skinny, a meth-addict I think and he has a huge head. i feel like i’ve been carried away to the land of mythical creatures, in some tolkein-esque fantasy world where i must confront this evil menace face to face. JUST STOP FUCKING COUGHING, LET ME SLEEP YOU MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT GOLEMN! i lay awake thinking for hours, trying to keep control of my thoughts, with images of grotesque savagery still dominating my mind and the infinite weight of death and despair still pressing down on me with more pressure than i knew existed. maybe if i could cry i would feel better, but i’m convinced these people will hang me if i do that, and there’s no telling what the golemn will do. they will lose any respect for me that they might have and i will lose any chance at sleeping with Jessica if i just break down and give into my emotions. a real man doesn’t have emotions, but does this rule still apply? am i still a real man? i don’t think i’m existing in reality anymore.
 
still the hollowness, the emptiness, the heaviness and the evil all nibble away at any trace of sanity i might have left. it is gone, totally gone. i’m not even making sense to myself anymore. my thoughts are just a blur of distorted gore and a helpless animalistic desire to be freed from this prison of excruciating anxiety and fear. i’m done. it’s over. a total psychotic break is more frightening than you might think; scarier than anything i’ve ever experienced. there is a sense of helplessness and despair that is so overwhelming you might as well be waiting in line to have your head cut off after witnessing everyone you know decapitated, and the blade is bearing down on your neck. 
 
so i do something i haven’t done in a while, i don’t even realize i’m doing until i’m half way done, but i pray:
 
“god please, i know i never pray, i don’t even know if you exist, but please, if i survive this night, i swear i will devote my life to you. i swear i will become a better person. i know you’re there, i now have proof of the spiritual realm, please help me, please… i NEED you.”
 
and just like that; it feels like the first rays of a morning sun breaking over the hill shining glorious light on a ravaged city after a tremendous riot has ended, scattered bloody, mangled bodies remain visible, burning cars, broken windows and shattered dreams. still there is a hopeful cheeriness that sparks inside of me and i know; the worst is over…
 
still feeling a bit uneasy from the whole situation i bring myself to go to the bathroom. looking at my reflection i see something i’ve never seen before; an ANIMAL; homo-sapien, skin covering flesh, with hair; a sack of blood, bones and organs, tissues, cells, molecules, atoms, space. is this it? it cannot be. this THING is not me. it was never me. i am somewhere else and this is only a vehicle of some sort, i can feel it. i KNOW it. it is true. “who are you?” my reflection mouths the words as i think them out loud. no answer. will there ever be an answer? ever?