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Metaphysical mystery & paranormal romance ~ Transmigrant Blues [07 Aug 2007|01:04am]
[ mood | excited ]



Is it the story of a girl remembering her past life?
or a writer imagining his future destiny?
Is the girl insane?
. . .Is the writer vain?




A metaphysical mystery and paranormal romance spanning across two lifetimes Transmigrant Blues explores identity, reincarnation and madness.




One page per day will appear from this previously unreleased early novel by Indi Riverflow at http://www.amanamission.com/transblues


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Remedy for Bureaucracy [30 Apr 2007|11:52pm]
[ mood | defiant ]

Remedy for Bureaucracy
By Indi Riverflow



The holistic health community is scrambling for autonomy, as pending FDA legislation proposes to regulate the nutritional supplement industry. This wide-sweeping measure likely will not fulfill the fears that alarmists project, but the attempt to hijack yet another basic liberty, under the banner of safety, highlights a trend that appropriates personal choices to medical review.


Smacking of globalism, the Trilateral Commission’s Codex is an ironic reversal of U.S. ideological imperialism: alternative remedies and health products could be redefined as restricted drugs, as part of an attempt to bring Uncle Sam in line with stricter guidelines across either border.


Substances with any physiological effect inside the body might be regarded as a “drug,” completing the absurdity which fails to distinguish between pharmaceutical products and the fruits of nature. Even water could theoretically fall under new strict regulations.


For that matter, why not air? Oxygen is an extremely addictive drug. To witness the tremendous changes air can cause in a body, simply do without it for a few minutes. If we are to believe the very frightened folks organized against adopting the Anti-CAM guidelines, passage could lead to a prescription requirement for vitamins and enzyme therapy. Well, maybe the mainstream will be roused to protest.


Miscategorizing and restricting medicinal herbs is nothing new; enforcing arcane prohibitions against plants, such as cannabis, has made the Murican prison industry the envy of the world’s tyrannies. More recently, the Chinese herb Ma Huang, or ephedra, has fallen prey to the ban-happy FDA’s presumption of power, after over four thousand years’ use as a natural remedy for respiration-related illnesses and learning disabilities.


At work is a profound prejudice against those induced states of mind which have not been specifically authorized by the real drug dealers, who are content to spew out pharmacological tweaks, designed for every condition, from everyday anxiety, to a reduced inability to respond to the prospect of sex.


The medicalization of marijuana has always struck me as a mediocre half-measure for this very reason, despite being an irresistible sop to the decriminalization movement. Not because bringing healing herbs to the ill shouldn’t be a priority, but because equating herbs with synthetic chemicals begs the deeper constitutional, and even theological, questions about government domain, which come about when human beings deign to issue legislation against a plant.


As usual, the real motivation behind this power grab is to promote the pharmaceutical stranglehold on health care dollars. Ultimately, few serious freedoms are threatened if a couple of vitamin companies get elbowed off the shelves. The true risk is that the precedent will be advanced even further to attack freedom of thought.


Regardless of what the Supreme Court has been stacked to say, it ought to be obvious to any eighth grader that the Constitution does not extend dominion over nature to federal agencies.


So for those who stood still for the 1937 Marijuana Tax Act, and the Controlled Substances Act of 1970, and the hysteria-filled removal of ephedra in 2004-they are coming for your Echinacea, your amino acids, your b-complex energy blend. Years of collective complacency are paying off for the corporate oligarchy that will someday own and license the very atmosphere we breathe.



Read On!
www.blues4kali.com


This article is available for reprint
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No Penalty for Early Withdrawal [30 Apr 2007|11:44pm]
[ mood | hopeful ]

No Penalty for Early Withdrawal
By Indi Riverflow



The Congress of the United States has finally voted for troop withdrawal from Iraq, marking the first official recognition that the citizens of the U.S., as well as a majority of recently elected representatives, are ready and eager to end the illegal occupation of ancient Babylon by a more modern version.

Not always the opposite of Progress.

The Resident-in-Thief, predictably, plans to use his ill-gotten veto to flaunt the expressed will of the people, but a milestone has been passed for the peace movement. Reality has finally caught up with the imperialists, and by continuing the hostilities in defiance of the timeline, the Administration will be further exposed for a rogue regime operating in open violation of laws domestic and international.

The more gullible of us are expected to believe that disaster will ensue in the wake of troop withdrawal. Insurgents, and civil war, will tear apart the fragile fabric of the infantile Iraqi society.

What this really means is that the unpopular puppets and collaborators, whose power in Baghdad derives entirely from the barrels of American guns, will fall faster than Enron stock without our dupes to support them.

Hashing out a new government will doubtless be a struggle in Iraq. After all, practically everyone with experience in public service has been executed or arrested. But if democracy, instead of merely an Orwellian inversion of it, were ever to prevail in the Persian Gulf, we can be sure that expelling Dubya’s cronies would be the order of the day.

Who, exactly, is the enemy in Iraq? The invasion was originally mounted, in theory, to prevent the use of non-existent weapons of mass destruction. Now that the dictator and most of his family has been wiped out, gangland-style, the question begs like a displaced refugee: why should sectarian violence erupt now, when the cause of all the land’s woe has been stuck in the ground?

Round and round, this circular speciosity goes. Withdrawing troops is tantamount to abandoning the locals to the violence that foreign presence inspires.

We are begged to give time for the troop surges to “work.” What would this mean? Escalating the raids and martial law to the point that partisans are too cowed to bomb Parliament?

Progressives who oppose the occupation but apologize for continuing it appear to be plagued by a sense of responsibility to the region, a sense that we must clean up the mess we have made.

Indeed the responsibility is great. Will anyone support a budget which expends peacetime dollars in foreign aid to help an independent Iraq rebuild, at the rate that wartime funds ravaged it? Can any hawk be delusional enough to actually believe that invading forces are a stabilizing force, let alone the mealy-mouthed moderates who have let this travesty go on for over four years now?

We remember who has abided the war crimes, and who spoke out. Let us remember them well in 2008. The articles of impeachment have been filed; let us convene our Nuremburg.

This article is available for reprint
Read On!
www.blues4kali.com

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Lysistrata Revisited [11 Apr 2007|02:53am]



Lysistrata Revisited

By Indi Riverflow



The civil struggle over the invasion of Iraq has finally reached the grass roots. The peace movement, enlivened by the return of the two-party system (what, is it a democracy again, all of a sudden?) are reviving folksy tactics from the sixties, such as sit-ins and marches, in a quaint push to demand an immediate end to the occupation.


We have die-ins, candlelit vigils, rowdy rallies, and mock occupations of congressional offices. A courageous group, here on the West Coast, has been harassing dovish Democratic representatives, urging them to take a harder line on troop withdrawal, on the theory that Republicans are likelier to call the cops. But if we really want to stop the war, people, the protest is going to have to span from the boardrooms to the bedrooms.


The problem with the peace movement is that the underhanded tacticians are all on the other side.


The war will end when those who support it find their stance costing, not merely lives and freedom, but something really important to them.


If you managed to stay awake through your Greek comedy course, you’ll recall Lysistrata, a rather mind-blowing, bawdy gem from the vaults of pacifist literature.


Dating from the Peloponnesian War period, the play absolutely giggles with recycled relevance, as we confront the horrible reality that we are collectively culpable for the slaughter, and unless we get rolling on something more serious than tickling ourselves, tickling itself will be banned by the humorless neo-fascists currently occupying the organs of the body politic.


For those who were nodding off in class, the story goes like this: the women of Athens band together around one central base of power: their very wombs. Weary of the war against Sparta, the wives in Lysistrata heroically organize and go on sexual strike against their husbands, and are joined by prostitutes and priestesses alike in one hysterical act of truly grass-roots direct action that brought the battle of the sexes down to one simple reality:


Love is better than war.


Aristophanes is way headier than Aristotle, just as Groucho Marx is cooler than Karl. The philosophy of comedy is quite serious, except for the clowns who repeatedly insist on getting offended.


Therefore, I boldly propose, in the name of Lysistrata, that all lovers of life adopt a passive pro-peace stance, by steadfastly refusing to have intercourse with anyone who does not support diplomatic solutions to military problems. This will, incidentally, lead to more fulfilling and time-consuming relationships in general.


Feel free to disagree. But the logic is lovely and tested by the centuries. And unless you support the atrocities form Fallujah to Guantanomo Bay, time to vote with your womb or willy. While it still is yours.


Because there is a great deal more at stake than an appropriations bill that could ease poverty in either country, rather than enrich the merchants of death. There is a critical cultural judgment on the line: will we roll over and let the big cocks wag all over the more poorly armed nations of the world, or will we let it be known that this was not done in our name?


We can’t take this lying down.


Four years ago, the Blitzkrieg flew into Baghdad, on the flimsiest of pretexts, in a move that openly and cynically labeled itself OIL. Operation Iraqi Freedom has liberated hundreds of thousands of Iraqis from their lives. The next listing in the phone book is Iran, and by the time withdrawal actually begins, we can be sure the war machine will soon be knocking next door, peddling a similar emancipation in Farsi.


Oh, well. We’ll just change all the “q’s” to “n’s” on the protest banners.


Meanwhile, the Shrub is piously busy counting angels on the head of a pin, worried that stem cell research on dead fetuses might somehow impugn the sanctity of human life.


The Resident-in-Thief is a stubborn and unapologetic mess of contradictions, and like the monster under the bed, derives his power from the belief we have in him. We are supposed to believe that this regime is pro-life.


One can only conclude that they expect to need plenty of fodder for the cannons of the future. The sanctity of human life apparently doesn’t extend to the victims of imperialist policy.


And yet, in spite of all this, Newt Gingrich managed to find someone to practice being Bill Clinton with.


Someone is going to have to take a stand, and the bulk of the burden will have to fall on the sex workers and interns in Washington. When a hawkish congressman can’t find a lunch-hour handjob, the funds for waging war will dry up faster than an unlubricated Trojan.




Read On!
www.blues4kali.com
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Quantum Consciousness and the Fifth Dimension [05 Apr 2007|01:52am]
[ mood | contemplative ]

Quantum Consciousness and the Fifth Dimension

By Indi Riverflow




“Where ya comin’ from?”


Our worldview is largely a function of our location. The range of what we can experience and imagine is bounded by the culture that spawned us, and the place that we hold within it. Transcending locality is key to comprehending quantum consciousness.


The dynamic opportunities offered by the two dimensions of a page are amplified infinitely, when a third dimension is perceived, making a book, or perhaps a library. Similarly, the more aware of the dimensions that compose our reality we become, the more mastery we can have over the paradoxes of perception.


Who we find ourselves to be has a great deal to do with where we’re coming from. We can describe this in terms of latitude, longitude, and altitude, but also in terms of duration (chronitude) and personality forming experience, realitude.


So some of us live in a dimension where spirits are in active constant contact; others experience no such thing and judge the first class to be insane. To form a consensus reality, it is not necessary to reproduce results for an instrument; the reality is whatever we collectively consider it to be. This is why heretics, simply by representing an alternate viewpoint, are so dangerous to systems which depend on agreeing to an unverifiable perception.


If a geometric point, which theoretically has no dimension, is added to another dimensionless point, a line is generated, in one dimension. If this line is curved about to form a circle, we have two. Bring it into three dimensions, and not only do we have a sphere with an infinite set of points on the surface, but if the camera backs up far enough, that sphere slowly reverts to our original dimensionless point.


Just as a page has not only length and width but also an infinitesimal degree of height, the three dimensions of space also have a slice of time running through them. Because we are within it, we are generally only able to move in a single direction through time, at the subjectively variable rate of one second per second.


The mind is more flexible; memories can track back along the trail of a lifetime, and, in past-life regression, beyond. Perceiving the future is more difficult, and less certain, because we come from a line, but are headed for a sphere.


Thus the multiverse theory of quantum entanglement. All possible events transpire in all conceivable combinations, and every outcome occurs in one dimension or another. So in magic, one is not so much remaking the world to bring about a specific outcome, but propelling consciousness through an act of will into a realm where this has already been accomplished.


Shamanic traditions such as those described by Carlos Castaneda make good and deliberate use of this effect. According to Don Juan, our view of reality is fixed according to the position of an assemblage point in the middle of the spine, which approximates the heart chakra. To upset this fixation and induce a broader apprehension of the world, Don Juan strikes this spot, allowing Carlos to see the world of emanations.


So what is the ultimate validity of these supernatural visions? They have the validity we give to them. But our minds do not exist in isolation. For every intention, there is opposition. Magic is the art of defining intention in a way that transcends the frustration of it.


Understanding how we came to want this outcome in the first place is as important as expending energy to promote it. Even more important can be a careful consideration of hidden repercussions.


Otherwise, a spell for world peace could be manifested in the form of a catastrophe that leaves the world very quiet indeed.


Two monkeys from literature come to mind-appropriately enough, one dead and one alive. The Monkey’s Paw, by W.W. Jacobs, in which a wish-granting talisman results in the death of the protagonist’s family.


The other is The Hundredth Monkey, by Ken Keyes, Jr. Living monkeys appear to spread evolutionary advancements between isolated populations by unknown means.


So perhaps the real question is, which monkey do ya wanna be?


The Karma Alliance Light Institute offers a wide variety of resources for the enlightened alternative lifestyle

Read On!
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The Mother of All Problems [04 Apr 2007|12:19am]
[ mood | discontent ]

Online bookstore for the new age book worm hippie goddess reader


The Mother of All Problems
By Indi Riverflow



The Millennium has certainly gotten off to a grim, if not downright dystopian, debut. Wars, climate change and stifling advances in the arts of crass consumerism and mass mind control have made our era turn out less like Heinlein fantasies, or even Orwellian nightmares, than the oft-cited prophesies at the rear end of the New Testament.

Of course, Christian theology is hardly the only system containing a vision of doom proceeding redemption; the end times scenario is a staple of creeds the world over, nearly as ubiquitous as the corresponding creation myth. Human beings seem to have as deeply seated a need for a story of the destruction of the world as for its genesis.

Perhaps every generation is undercut with a sensation of impending doom. Certainly history is loaded with footnotes of discredited date-namers who could not resist the ego urge to define their age as the termination point of time.

So the issue is not whether 2012 will be the next Y2K, or whether solar flares or global warming will do us in, or whose book of half-mad prognostications contains the Ultimate Truth. These issues will resolve themselves by and by.

And if the average individual peering over the edge of the twentieth century felt as strongly that our species was placed precariously on a precipice, as many do today, we can be sure of one thing: six times as many humans are available now to poll on the topic.

Now, some of my best friends are human. Nothing against them, really, and individually, they can be wonderful. And I wouldn't want anyone thinkin' I am anti-human, or anything. That's worse than not being patriotic, or failing to root for the local baseball team.

Yet, upon due contemplation, it seems that there is no serious dilemma affecting the human sphere that would not submit to a solution of fewer heads to count. Nothing is quite so odious about our species as our quantity.

Global warming, which has gone overnight from a Hollywood cause célébré to the center of media debate, is quite obviously exacerbated by human activity. Not merely industrial consumption, or animal agriculture, which are surely intensifying the problem, but merely by existing, all of us share some culpability. Each of us is a heat-producing, carbon-dioxide emitting machine, which leaves a wider footprint on the environment than any other species on Earth.

Nor is overpopulation a third-world issue alone, although the sociological impact of economics can make the fate of the crowded more visibly dire in poor countries than wealthy ones. In terms of resources consumed and waste generated, every denizen of the "developed" world costs what several impoverished inhabitants of more rustic regions do.

One response to this is to retreat, ideologically or physically, to a simpler way of life that shuns the costly comforts of technology. While this may serve to soothe the spiritual and moral concerns of those who forsake the wicked ways of the city to take up farming or crafts, reverting to nature is only a partial solution. The Earth could no more tolerate the billions of humans spreading out to take over the remaining arable land for subsistence tilling, than the millions now shoehorned into the various metropolitan colonies.

Conserving energy and resources is certainly laudable and vital to a healthy relationship with the planet. Sloganeers and activists benefit from telling everyone else to scale back. But conservation isn't a real answer. What good will saving do, if consumption is halved while the population doubles?

I might feel good screwing in an LCD bulb (I've never tried it, but I bet it would feel good…if I could make it work), but if every casino on the strip is running full-on neon nightlights and pumping out thirty-five degree AC on an eighty-degree day, the humble efforts of a well-meaning individual don't amount to a meaningful gesture, let alone a brake on the runaway train of industrial waste.

Some people live, quite contentedly, in a world where there is no population crisis. Plenty of wide-open spaces left! Some imagine a glorious future in which the planet is completely covered by human beings and our food. Some believe that we were given dominion over the Earth as well as a command to be fruitful and multiply.

I believe that we are spreading like a cancer, overrunning the natural order in our mad haste to fill the entire world with our kind. Imagine the Earth consulting in the office of a celestial physician. Would She complain most of the lacerations in Her skin, the contamination of Her bloodstream, the decimation of Her lungs? Or would She be most concerned about the possibility of passing the contagion on to Her neighbors?

Some seek a solution to the problem of population expansion in the stars. Certainly the cycle of history leads logically to the colonization of space. But exporting our extras off-planet only expands the problem.

Along with the huge numbers that would have to be regularly resettled would go the resources they would require for survival. Even if a sci-fi space station could be designed to produce a totally sustainable eco-economy (despite requiring heroic measures to supply everyday needs like air, water and suitable soil), the material and energetic demands of the exodus would surely squeeze the last breath of life from the planet of our birth.

So what to do about this intractable dilemma? Many cynics suggest that the balance will soon redress itself through war and natural catastrophe. Others have proposed such unpopular plans as genocide and forced sterilization.

Controlling conception is theoretically a reality, but the greatest irony of birth control is that it is the province of those responsible enough to use it. Better technology will give choices to those who have access to them, while those least able to provide for large families will continue to produce them.

Faced with no other way to address my part in all this, I submitted to surgical sterilization at a local Planned Parenthood. This decision was practical as well as symbolic; an ounce of free prevention can be worth far more than a pound of $600 cure. I decided years ago that my books would be my children, and with a like-minded partner as well as the assistance of a kind physician do-gooding on his lunch hour, I offered up my reproductive potential to the good of the Earth.

Many people find this hard to understand. They don't fathom why I don't want my own little Mini-me, to indoctrinate with my bizarre ideas. Why I don't care to carry on my line and leave behind a gaggle of descendants to say nice things about me at my funeral.

Mind you, I have nothing against parenthood. On the contrary, bringing a child into the world is so important that every single person who embarks on this course should be prepared to be totally devoted to the task. The replication of the nuclear family is so automatic and presumed that the world is full not only of teenagers demanding to know why they had been born, but parents who wonder the same thing.

The cycle of death and rebirth is tied to the karma of breeding and killing. Like all opposites, they are not so different. As we kill, we give rise to other life (usually our own), and as we breed we generate the possibilities that will lead to a lifetime of innocent murder.

Mystics have been hip to this for ages untold, which helps explain why vegetarian celibates have had such spiritual success. Confused individuals may perceive a bit of moralism in this, but not a drop is contained. This is a practical matter. All karma leads to further entanglement with the material realm. A simple example of this is the way parents require a stable income, whereas the childless are free to be financially frivolous and pursue unprofitable ventures like independent online publishing.

For my part I have been able to find no better way to both limit my environmental impact and distractions from the primary goals of my life than voluntarily surrendering my place among the ancestors of the future. May your descendents, should you choose to make any, enjoy the extra elbow room.

-Indi Riverflow



This article is available for reprint.
Preview Blues4Kali at www.blues4kali.com
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Blues4Kali reader response [06 Mar 2007|03:29am]
Review by Ora Uzel


After reading this beautifully artistic prose, I find myself at a loss for words, perhaps out of some vein self-imposed egoist urge to
somehow outwit and out write the author, when one of my mediocre artistic talents is writing.  Indeed this story tells as much about the author as it does me.

This book definitely isn’t for everyone.  Some knowledge of counterculture is necessary.  More specifically, readers would be at an advantage to have knowledge of post-20th century hippie counterculture. I myself am beginning to encounter this culture in various realms of my life, and in the previous year have gained enough knowledge that I am satisfied I’m picking up 90% of what’s shared in the hidden meanings and symbolisms of the eloquent writing presented in Blues4Kali.

As suggested by the author, speed-reading would not do this story justice and indeed I read many passages multiple times.  Thus readers will be treated to the literary value of two to three books in this single volume.  Furthermore, the philosophy involved is not a simple counterculture viewpoint “against the man.”  The story, narrated from the point of view of a reluctant skeptic yet thoroughly involved activist, incorporates the viewpoint that dominant popular culture is clueless, but also that mainstream counterculture is under scrutiny for practices that strangely mirror the culture it so much protests.

An instant love for the protagonist burgeons as counterculturist and skeptic alike are exposed to her personality immediately upon entering the story.  Meanwhile readers are treated to phrases and cultural symbols in a delightfully witty manner that brings them subtly yet quickly into the essence of the characters’ environment of “festies” and west coast counterculture (as a Midwesterner, this is something I myself am still learning).  And so in the dichotomy of inner dialogue the protagonist shares with herself, many levels of the questions of counterculture arise.

In one split second, the main character, Amana, finds herself wishing to (but not) flipping off a lumber mill because they destroy the environment, while shortly after thinking of a parody of a popular TV commercial that regular society might not get.  At the same time, she is complacent to actually flip off the lumber mill, because she is a realist in that simple symbolic gestures do not affect real change.  And during all this she acknowledges that she is fully understanding and appraised of modern standard culture through her TV reference.  What’s more is while her vehicle she is driving in runs on vegetable oil to show independence from oil, a non-sustainable fuel, she is still driving a combustion engine vehicle, fueling the non-sustainable aspect of vehicle manufacturing.

All these thoughts can be raised from a single paragraph of this dense florid prose that connoisseurs of 21st century counterculture literature (if this genre even yet exists) will find equally entertaining, witty, insightful, and, in a single-stroke, profoundly yet curtly inquisitive.

Certainly past generations have had their Kerouacs and their Robert Anton Wilsons.  Our generation has neither yet.  In the search for contemporary meaning, we look to the lesser known writers for our guidance.  Hidden among the vastness of the internet, out in somewhere unknown possibly on the west coast, a writer speaks out with fervor, tenacity, and a very healthy dose of humor about her own search for meaning through a not-so-simple façade of “everyday” counterculture experience.

Rather than telling us what counterculture is about, Blues4Kali intimates to us why it is, why we’re drawn to it, and why we have so much trouble in believing something we want to believe so badly.

Ora Uzel
 


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What will Winter Solstice bring in 2012? : The Reality Exchange Program [26 Feb 2007|03:23am]




What will Winter Solstice bring in 2012?
...an instant of Karma? ...an ethereal spiral dance of the collective soul? ... cosmic judgment leveled against civilization's expanse? ...destruction of the world as we know it? ...a chance for a new start? ...the rise and the revenge of the Goddess? or simply another day in the life of paranoia?
These are the false prophesies that your pastor warned you about!

Reality Exchange Program

"the South side of time..."


Crazy Bear said there'd be days like this. As usual, no one believed him. Now, all I want to know is: where IS that lifeboat, and how DO I ditch this ship of fools, without any of these bliss ninnies noticing that I'm already gone?

Captain, my ass. We are equal in this sea of madness.

That iceberg is looking awfully big.


Amana Mission is on a quest to save the world, and the only problem is, she can't remember why she got involved with such an obvious scam in the first place. Jesus saves. Christ. What a loser.

Kali kills first, and recycles later.

Hitchhikers, load up for a ride to the Other Side. You may wish you had gone Greyhound.


"What the...?"


  • A cranky band of prankster peace warriors who absolutely cannot resist messing with each other's minds, no matter the cost.

  • Cocky alchemy-dabbling quantum surfers, navigating the Ethersphere with
    hand-held computers, seamlessly switching timelines to find a better party vibe
    and swap tips about the best temporary toilets for use as interdimensional
    portals.

  • A burnt-out visionary hippie millionaire on a mission from Gaia to build a
    better "communitopia" by underwriting a convoy carrying busloads of telepathic
    priestesses.

  • A wheelchair-bound mindpilot propelling a crystal-powered Seed Bank toward
    the post-Apocalyptic Garden, with psychic precision...and a predilection for
    high-velocity extreme driving.

  • Hermaphrodite time-jumper fleeing a fate worse than death.

  • Anarchist ghettoes where anything goes-except escape.

  • Ancient Principals vying like sweatsoaked carpetbaggers for our loyalty as
    the Final Vote is tallied.

  • Long-haired security patrols collecting a cannabis tribute tax from all
    pilgrims to the Valley of Fun.

  • And an underground meat mafia bringing a black magic revival to a
    bloodless dreamworld gone bland.


All brought together by a secret psychedelic superdrug that tunes users in to reality through the eyes of another archetypal avatar inhabiting a different state of space and time. Mahayana made easy. Budding Buddha natures are running amuck on a virtual superhighway where all roads lead to the Bo tree and singularity.

Twenty-first century Tantra is about more than sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

Confronting the Karma of every wasted breath is only the first step.

Welcome to the End Times. Kali awaits. She already knows who you are.

Do you?

The 21st century counterculture is even weirder than it appears on the surface. This is not your mommy’s MTV Road Rules.


Ride along on this mesmerizing, metaphor-packed bus trip toward ecstasy and enlightenment, as three real-time
guides-Amana, Sissy, and Deva, let you in on what they learned when they asked what It was really all about, after all.

Become them for a multilevel metafictional tour of infinity, and awaken yourself to the miracle-a-minute magic of mighty Mother Kali!




Experience the eBook! Free pre-print preview.

Read Now at www.blues4kali.com
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Blues4Kali-A Cult Classic for the End Times [23 Jan 2007|09:48pm]
[ mood | indescribable ]

MetaMythology for the Millennium. Spark a nug of the Kali flower and tune in to this chronicle of the contemporary counterculture!

Reality Exchange Program
"Makes DMT seem like a whip-it."

Crazy Bear said there'd be days like this. As usual, no one believed him. Now, all I want to know is: where IS that lifeboat, and how DO I ditch this ship of fools, without any of these bliss ninnies noticing that I'm already gone?
Captain, my ass. We are equal in this sea of madness.
That iceberg is looking awfully big.

Amana Mission is on a quest to save the world, and the only problem is, she can't remember why she got involved with such an obvious scam in the first place. Jesus saves. Christ. What a loser.
Kali kills first, and recycles later.
Hitchhikers, load up for a ride to the Other Side. You may wish you had gone Greyhound.

"What the...?"

  • A cranky band of prankster peace warriors who absolutely cannot resist messing with each other's minds, no matter the cost.
  • Cocky alchemy-dabbling quantum surfers, navigating the Ethersphere with hand-held computers, switching timelines to find a better party vibe and swap tips about the best temporary toilets for use as interdimensional portals.
  • A burnt-out visionary hippie millionaire on a mission from Gaia to build a better "communitopia" by underwriting a convoy of telepathic priestesses.
  • A wheelchair-bound mindpilot propelling a crystal-powered Seed Bank toward the post-Apocalyptic Garden, with psychic precision...and a predilection for high-velocity extreme driving.
  • Hermaphrodite time-jumper fleeing a fate worse than death.
  • Anarchist ghettoes where anything goes-except escape.
  • Ancient Principals vying like sweatsoaked carpetbaggers for our loyalty as the Final Vote is tallied.
  • Long-haired security patrols collecting a cannabis tribute tax from all pilgrims to the Valley of Fun.
  • And an underground meat mafia bringing a black magic revival to a bloodless dreamworld gone bland.

All brought together by a secret psychedelic superdrug that tunes users in to reality through the eyes of another archetypal avatar inhabiting a different state of space and time. Mahayana made easy. Budding Buddha natures are running amuck on a virtual superhighway where all roads lead to the Bo tree and singularity.
Twenty-first century Tantra is about more than sex, drugs, and rock and roll.
Confronting the Karma of every wasted breath is only the first step.
Welcome to the End Times. Kali awaits. She already knows who you are.
Do you?
The 21st century counterculture is even weirder than it appears on the surface. This is not your mommy’s MTV Road Rules.

Ride along on this mesmerizing, metaphor-packed bus trip toward ecstasy and enlightenment, as three real-time guides-Amana, Sissy, and Deva, let you in on what they learned when they asked what It was really all about, after all.
Become them for a multilevel metafictional tour of infinity, and awaken yourself to the miracle-a-minute magic of mighty Mother Kali!

Blues4Kali-a Hippie hymn to the hidden wisdom of the Dark Mother

Shalom

Read Now at www.blues4kali.com

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