Every gift given- present m-om-ent- is two-sided, simultaneously blessing an’ curse, good and evil, god and devil, hero and villain.
Because when it’s good god (pleasure/ pleasantness/ pleasing/ plea-sing bles-sing/ Son-g/ Sun-g) you get attached to it, fix8. Which causes anxiety, distress, fear of Loss with subsequent attempts at CONTROL, RE-STRICT-ION, excessive PRO-tect-ion. Since you know all things must pass in the physical universe, nothing lasts, the carnal, the only constant is change, mutability, move-ment, in-urg-e/ e-nergy of mate-meat-flesh-flash and bone of THE Officially-sanctioned-world of wor-king-word-worm$, enforced RULES and REGULATIONS/ Norms/ LAW of AVE-RAGES, Lowest-common-denominator/ dominator, dominatrix/ dominant-matrix/ m-old/ ol’ mon-ey/ moon-eye/ i/ femi-nine/ dead-debt-sy-stem.
I want to share this uncomfortable insight, realization accompanying pain, heightened ‘pain body’ activation. This utterly Raw emotional state of utter angst, inner terror/ pan-ic is quite familiar to me by now. It comes and goes. But never before now, I believe, had this clear insight come with it like this. If it was there in the past, it may have been only a dim awareness or intuition of it. Clear-thinking doesn’t usually accompany intense emotional di-stress. But somehow this particular e-motional, in-ternal fit has turned the key, perhaps because it’s probably like the, I don’t know, maybe 7th time or so to this kind of intensity- I haven’t been keeping track, but if I sat and attempted to re-member I could probably come up with an accurate number. Come to think of it, I think this feeling was so common in the times I have been in committed sexually and emotionally intimate relations with women that there’s no way I could have kept count it was so frequent. This particular inner distress I am being dragged through the mud of now appears to have an obvious Red Hot Sour-ce/ Cause: Loss. It’s grief, e-motional pa-in. Normal emotional response to traumatic loss. I always have been quite normal. For better or worse. Somehow, somewhere along the line, between getting beaned in the head twice in Little League and Senior Little League Baseball and all the trauma and turmoil of early adolescence, which included a parental di-vorce and overall family-split, I came to feel myself to be very strange indeed, furthest thing from normal. Ganga, along with trips on mushrooms and L.S.D., definitely pushed me into embracing and, in a weird way, I thought it was cool perhaps, celebrating myself as strange. Classic case of ego puffing itself up by believing it to be ‘different’ or ‘special.’ Exceptional. Yeah, we’re all special. But we’re also all not. Not only not special, but actually no-thing at all, not a noun, an unknown and ultimately an unknowable. But I see now I’m really not strange at all. Yes, I have been an idiot at times, and a scoundrel at times in my life, lacking gratitude, but not nearly always, and, in my unnecessary defense (because I have committed no crime and have NEVER been drawn to NOR participated in criminal or pathological, sociopathic or psychopathic, behavior), less and less as time has worn on have I been an ass/ don-key. It now all looks quite tragic to me, my entire lifetime. And everyone else’s. Which isn’t to say it hasn’t had it beauty and awesomeness, but overall is not Tragedy simply a name for a lifetime in a physical body, bio-logical, bio-mechanical space-suit, destined for growth and decline, life and death, rise and fall? Total Gain and Total Loss. Total Success and Total Failure. Night always overtakes day. But, just wait, any m-om-ent now here, here comes day back to vanquish night.
What has triggered this particular activation is the Sudden Total Loss/ Car-murder of the ’05 Chevy Malibu which I had been driving since ’09 when I first moved back here to Massachusetts from New Mexico, from 506- 165 and back to 506. I had grown to love that car and recently become acutely aware of it, this deep affection for machine, especially while listening to the really good stereo system// Ra-dio it came with. A great friend has passed. I am so sad about this and I don’t care how ridiculous or stupid it may sound to anyone else. You don’t understand or aren’t capable of stretching your mind and heart a little bit to empathize? Then please just go away and make whatever lame ass jokes or insults about me you want. It is all really nothing but a secret feeling you have about yourself anyways, just another lame excuse for not being honest with yourself about how you really feel about yourself. Just because it was a machine and didn’t even talk to me in complete sentences like Kit in Nightrider doesn’t mean it wasn’t a lovable, amazing entity, one who accompanied me on two drives to New Mexico and back, going from 60,000 Miles driven to over 180,000+ in over 10 years. I had paid it off over about six years and had taken good care of it. I am so fucking pissed and grief-stricken that this has happened, and it really, I know, has less to do specifically to do with this particular experience of Total Loss as it has to do with the very NOTION of TOTAL FUCKING LOSS, the overarching Total Loss that is inevitable for every mortal creature. This feeling goes all the way back to childhood, learning about death and accidents, always being worried that something bad might befall my loved-ones. My Mimi’s (maternal grandmother’s) death in ’86 when I was 10 and my Grampy (Charlie) dying in ’85 when I was 9. Chalie’s wife, Annie, my paternal grandmother died in the early ’90’s shortly after my parents divorced. I can clearly remember as a little child laying on my side on the couch and desperately praying that my parents and brothers would make it home safely if I was home alone. I can remember worrying a lot when I was a little kid. Being nervous around other people almost all the time. Nervous is probably an understatement. I think I get more than just ‘butterflies’ in the belly. It feels more like stinging bug bites on the inside.
I have 11 more CRS’s today, just like yesterday. Yes, that’s two days in a Row of 11. 11:11. 11+11.
This one is for all the ludicrous, Irrationally in denial ‘Rationalists’ walking around out there in unfortunate abundance and given credibility by the legions of dumbed-down, they who have 0 imagination and are almost always condescending, mean, nasty ‘people.’ If you share a synchronicity with them, they laugh and say, ‘It’s bound to happen.’ ‘Just a coincidence.’ Dismissive, pompous arrogant ‘people’ who will also see, whether they want to or not, whether they are ready or not, that they are not the masters here. It’s not what they say that goes. It’s what the divine one says that goes here. That’s the message of CRS. And it’s obvious to me now. Even though I know I’m thoroughly ‘normal’ or ‘ordinary’ now, this does not mean I am not the exact opposite simultaneously. You can’t even speak of ordinary without reference to extraordinary. They are day and night, yang and yin, solar and lunar, mars and Venus, intravenous, di-vine, dendritic b-ranching.
The Original Ang-el
The Overstory Olivi A
15 + 1
Sea Son 1: 8 epi-sodes
Sea Son 2: 8 epi-sodes
Cand-le’s / el’s
CRS = Cash Register Synchronicity =
Consumer Recreation Services =
The Game =
God = 26
1-2-tree / John 9:25
Blindness & Sight
Wrong & Right
Fal-se & True
My hire date was 12/04 (Dec-ember 4, 2004)… 12+4 = 16. My D.O.B. = 5-29 (May 29) – 5+2+9= 16. I was born on that day in ’76 at 12:16 am. 16. My full name, Kyle Charles Grant, is 16 letters. I played obsessively and successfully most of the time on Swampscott Little League All-Star Teams. Swampscott is in Massachusetts Little League District, yes you guessed it, # 16.
…. and as I’ve told you many times, my birthday, 5-29, is also JFK’s. My father Peter’s birthday is the day JFK was taken out by the Cia/ Mob assassins, 11/22. He turned 11 that day in ’63. 6+3. 9.
In San Diego, when I was 22, I lived at 4012 Georgia Street (12/04), having moved there with a 33 year-old woman with the same first name as JFK’s wife, Jackie. I had 2 part time jobs. One at Henry’s Market, working in the Customer Service Department #22. And the other at Ken Cinema on Adams Ave, Landmark Theater #220.
Car = 22 in Ordinal English Gematria. C(3) + a(1) + r(18) = 22. The whole time I lived in San Diego, 2 years from ’97-’99- I was without car, since both jobs I had were within walking or bicycle riding distance. In fact, that bike ride from Park Boulevard to Adams Ave. I always enjoyed.
This past Tuesday, February 11, 2020 (2/11 2×11=22/ 20 20) at about 20 minutes to 10am, on his way to a 10-4 shift, this Charlie’s beautiful old Malibu was killed unconsciously/ unintentionally (by the old man turning left anyways) by a van driven by King George (male version of Georgia) Philip($), meaning ‘Horselover’ (Fat/ Philip K. Dick/ VALIS/ Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?) of L-ynn-fi-eld, born 12/04/42, yes, 12-04, I shit you not. Just a coincidence my ass.
God, why hast thou forsaken Charlie and his old Chevy? I am…that I am…dying on the cross. In the global, collective, planetary, terrifying crisis, cry Isis, Crest, Crescendo, Brian Orion Ne-bul-a, O-Sirius, Supernatural Super-serious. Mar-ket-p-lace. Ma-tri-x. 5 0 6. 11. El-eve-n. Lib-Ra. La-dy. Liber-ty. Liver-20.
1. 12:39 pm: Total $39.40 – Items 16 – Invoice# 4061 – Subtotal $38.53
2. 5:10 pm: $10.76 – Invoice# 3873 – Items 4
3. 11:41 am: Total $101.41 – Items 38
4. 11:49 am: Items 9 – Change $5.29 – Cashier# 5290
5. 5:30 pm: Items 53 – Invoice# 3888 – Total $86.20
6. 6:30 pm: Items 30 – Subtotal $68.00 – State Tax 1 $0.19 – Total $68.19 – Invoice# 3920 – Change $0.81
7. 11:26 am: Items 24 – Invoice# 4024 – Total $65.52 – Subtotal $65.02 – State Tax 1 $0.50
8. 11:14 am: Items 14 – Total $45.56 – Invoice# 4019
9. 6:25 pm: Items 25 – Subtotal $85.95 – State Tax 1 $0.75 – City $0.35 – Total $87.05
10. 6:05 pm: Items 10 – Total $29.10 – Invoice# 3910
11. 2:03 pm: Items 23 – Total $33.33 (This one was Reprinted Receipt Invoice# 3268/ 9, presented to me by my amazing Ra-bbi 1938, Aka fellow crewmember D, Barry, who just so happened to be operating Cash Register# 04. He had only noticed the $33.33. When I showed him the 23 Items and 2:03 pm connection he flashed me his delightful ol’ grin and said, ‘OO, so that’s a good one!?’ Way beyond good, dear Barry/ Rabbi.