New work on how and why we sleep. 0 (0)

The fact that I’m finding the quality of my sleep to be central to my robustness and well-being makes me want to pass on descriptions of four pieces of work described in recent issues of Science Magazine, work showing housekeeping changes in our brains happening while we sleep, changes whose disruption by sleep deprivation has debilitating consequences. Fultz et al. show that deep sleep drives brain fluid oscillations that may facilitate communication between fluid compartments and clearance of waste products. Todorova and Zugaro show that spikes during delta waves of sleep (widespread cortical silence) support memory consolidation. Brüning et al. find in the mouse brain that half of the 2000 synaptic phosphoproteins quantified show changes with daily activity-rest cycles. Sleep deprivation abolishes nearly all (98%) of these phosphorylation cycles at synapses. Noya et al. find a sleep-wake cycle in which transcripts and proteins associated with synaptic signaling accumulate before the active phase (dusk for nocturnal mice), whereas messenger RNAs and proteins associated with metabolism and translation accumulate before the resting phase.

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Waiting 0 (0)


I think it is safe to say that I have suffered more than most over the last 15 years. I have had suicidal ideations the majority of my life as an unmedicated patient of mental illness, and when I was diagnosed at the age of xx, medications did nothing but harm me physically and mentally for the following x years. I have been hospitalized approximately x times in x years. I have finally reached some level of happiness in my life, and I am here to show the world that if I did it, you can too. If I prevent so much as one  person  from harming themselves, and show them that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, I have accomplished my goal.

Living 0 (0)

Long Story Short

So to make a long story short, my life has been no cakewalk, I have lived a life of poverty, betrayal, misery, and abuse.  The concept of happiness or being content with my life has been foreign to me up until about two weeks ago.  For most of my life I have suppressed these things. I remember a night years ago, when I couldn’t take it anymore, my supression bubble popped and that night I cried for about 4ish hours feeling misery– more so for my family than for myself.  up until that point, I had never cried harder.
 It got to a point where every waking day was worst than the previous and I just snapped, emotionally, spiritually and mentally. I said “Fuck it”, I didn’t give a God damn about anything. Anyways, either before or after, I can’t remember, because I have never known what it was like to have things go my way, so every time any little thing didn’t go my way, or I couldn’t have what I wanted, I would go psychologically ballistic.
 I want to make it clear that I have never, and would never intentionally physically harm anyone, even in my darkest of days.
Anyways, back to what I was saying  every time I missed the subway by seconds, I spilled a drink, or didn’t have money to buy what I wanted, 25 years of things not ever going my way would all hit me at once.  At this point of my life, I was crying myself to sleep nearly every night. I didn’t give a God damn about anything in my life and I was a ticking time bomb of suicidal idealizations.  That being said, I am feeling better now after my most recent hospitalization now that I am on the right meds by the grace of God.  The only difference between then and now, is that I am capable of coping with my “situation”. The circumstances of my life haven’t changed, but my “mental” has.
That being said, I do have “moments” sometimes… the other day, something set me off, I can’t remember what it was, but I remember being very thirsy and I was looking forward to a of Gatorade that I had saved earlier in the day.  When I got into my apartment, I couldn’t find my Gatorade and that brought back an entire lifetime of not having what I wanted. So I exploded, mentally.  I took my $650 computer and slammed it into the table.  I tried to turn it on and it was broken,,, then things just escalated from there. My computer is my life. I then violently crumpled an art piece of mine.  I value my art damn near as much as lie itself, but I did this because it was in the way of something I wanted to pick up.  Then I lied to my dad as he entered the room. I said I accidentally dropped it, and we got into a heated argument.  I can’t remember the last time I argued with me dad. He said he wouldn’t give me money for a new computer so I went to my bed and felt more miserable than I have in a long time.
I thought to myself, this is it. As a few tears rolled down my face I thought, fuck it, I’ll just lay in my bed all day every day, I have nothing left in life.  A few minutes later, my dad reminded me I had a few hundred dollars from my SSI/disability check, so I went to best buy, bought a $200 computer, and the rest is history.  Most of these days I am relatively mentally stable, but I still have my moments.

How I Feel Tonight
(two weeks later)

I’m feeling like a balloon. What is the nature of a balloon? Something that you fill with helium, metaphorically speaking referring to my life, I’ve been filled with feelings of what I feel like –false promises and hope. Then a balloon flies away, up and up into the air enjoying the ride… But for how long? some balloons make it to the clouds and fly free with the angels.  Metaphorically speaking, that what I’ve been doing for the last two or three weeks of my life, God has blessed me with unbelievable ability to be an endless creative outlet, I’ve been flying in the clouds feeling overjoyed and ecstatic.  That’s how I feel, I’ve been living with suicidal ideations damn near my entire life,
I’ve been floating in the clouds for 3 weeks, but I feel like I just popped, I’ve had so much hope that these God given abilities might bring me some level of success or happiness in life, but at the end of the day, my life is no better than it was 1 month ago, 6 months ago, or 6 years ago.  I’m rapidly falling into an ocean of misery, pain, and suffering.  I didn’t choose this, but I guess life chose it for me. Not referring or concerning other people, I literally have nothing other than a piece of shit laptop, a phone, and the $20 bill that I wake up to every day.
Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for these things, but I would trade that all for so much as a sliver of hope of attaining some level of success or happiness in my life.  The thing that scares me more than anything, is the thought of what my future holds.  I feel no sense of hope for the future, I’ve been falsely duped so many times by women, “friends” con-artists, you name it.
I really am finding it hard to find an incentive to live.  I’m not going to suicide but I’m going back to a place where it’s like, fuck, how the fuck am I supposed to do this. What do I have to look forward to in life? If I said the answer was not much, that would be a lie, because the truthful answer is, nothing.  I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do. it’s like wtf.


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Devilish Thrown

As you can probably gather from the name of the site, my whole life I have strived to be great. Whether it was skateboading, music, video games etcetera, I have attempted to be great at whatever “it” might be.  I haven’t just attempted,

I obsessed to the point of no return and failed more and more miserably every time.

Love was another one of those things. I was obsessed with finding and being with a woman who would make me happy. I wasn’t that nerd who was always scared to talk to women, I tried. God damn did I try. Whether it was being on 3 dating sites at a time, asking women out in subway cars, bodega’s, you name it.  Anyways, as I did with myself, I have always fantasized about being with a woman who has accomplished greatness.

A couple years ago, I stumbled upon an artist who was about 4 years younger than me. Her name was Akiane Kramarik.

In my opinion, she is the most talented artist to ever step foot on God’s green earth.  This was the beginning of a long and painful string of delusions and painful, miserable events. I completely fell in love with her. I admired not only her looks, but her artistic talents, and who she was as a human being.  I felt I had to be with her at all costs necessary. (Obviously other than harming someone) So I started to write a book.  I figured if I could write a book that would become a new york times best seller, I could get her attention and potentially have a shot at meeting her.  So I wrote, and wrote, and wrote.

To keep this short, I damn near finished the book. I thought about her every hour of every day. I repetitively watched her interviews, I admired her recent pictures for hours on end, I even posted a picture of her as the background of my computer desktop.

I am bi-polar, that being said, some days I felt I couldn’t be more motivated and couldn’t be filled with more anticipation and hope that it was going to happen. Other days thoughts of, Well what if she has a boy friend and is doing you know what, as I’m sitting here doing what I did.  Emotionally, that would send me into such a dark place, I couldn’t cope.  Hence, Smiley was written, during a time when I felt that way, I wrote the darkest story I have ever written.  When the book was about 90% done, I had a psychological breakdown. I broke my computer over my knee, shaved my head, broke my guitar, threw my wallet and phone in the sewer, and admitted myself to a mental hospital.

It was at this hospital that God started giving me signs.  Some of what I am about to tell you, you might not be able to  compute, or accept as truth, but whether you believe me or not, it’s true.

99% of people don’t have the slightest idea what goes on in mental hospitals. I will save these stories for another time, but let it be known, supernatural forces are at work in mental hospitals because if a person were to try and tell someone what goes on in there… “Oh, you’re just a mental patient, go take your meds, you’re crazy.” Make sense?

Anyways, when I was enlightened to the evils of the Satanic forces, I made a promise to God I would at all means necessary devote my life to exposing them and taking them down… That hospital that I had just been checked into, was a Satanic hospital… Through means of God’s greatness, he informed me that I had done the deed.  I engaged them, and now they were going to kill me… Or so they thought.  I will save the details for another time, but God informed me the only way I was leaving that hospital, was in a body bag.

I walked the halls balling my fucking eyes out.  I was terrified. At the same time I felt accomplished for accomplishing one of my greatest life goals.  As I passed my room God gave me a sign… He said lay down in your bed and die.  I have never been anything but obedient to God, so I laid in my bed. I thought to myself, this is it.  I’m going to heaven, I don’t know if I was more anticipatory, or scared.

As I shut my eyes, I felt demonic forces overcome me.  I thought to myself, WTF? I’m supposed to go to heaven, not hell , I then saw something through my minds eye.  It was the Devil, he was on a devilish throne and he was feeling empowered. His arms were up and he was cackling.  Moments later I saw a vision of Akiana’s face.  I had never seen such a beautiful face in my life, her hair was blowing in the wind and she was more beautiful then ever before. A second after her face appeared, I felt hell.  The most tormenting, horrible, grotesque feeling came over me.  It was by far the worst thing I had ever experienced up until that point in my life. I don’t remember what happened after that, but moments later there was a knock on my door and a nurse told me I had a visitor. I turns out the whole ordeal was a test to see if I would listen to God, even if he told me to die, and I listened.

What God was telling me through the experience was, that, I had unintentionally obsessed over Akiane to the point where I held her as high or higher than God himself.  God didn’t shun me for it because he knew I didn’t do it intentionally, but he made it abundantly clear to me that if I so much as look at her picture ever again, I get the hell that he inflicted upon me when I saw her face. When I was released from the hospital, God commanded me to fall out of love with her, so I did. It was difficult, but I did it.


A few years later here I am, things changed.  Because God knows I would never hold anyone or thing as high as him, he has allowed me to indulge in a love for her, on a lower level obviously, that I had before. I am allowed to look at her paintings, interviews, photos, etc. I still love her very much, but I have accepted the fact that I will never meet her…

Life is shit… What am I gonna do about it? Well, nothing. I’ve tried my hardest in every aspect of life and gotten nothing but shit on in return, so I am day by day attempting to accept the piece of shit garbage life that I live. Good riddance I guess, right? Fuck it.

Hot Girl

After I left  the last session I got to the street corner went down to subway and I realized it was the wrong direction so I went back up and went across the street and there’s this hot girl just standing on the street corner absolute fucking so … I just I just asked her a really stupid question was like hey do you know what the uptown subway is .. she  laughs and touched my arm…

Clarify   there I’m going there too so I kind of just how they go right to the subway station for a tenth of a second i just had idea well what if i said something I got a number she seemed to shoot a nice person something actually came out of it I saw she was carrying a violin easy easy pickup line this is
I see a really hot woman… thoughts go through my okay well first of all I’ll never be with their never have sex with her she probably she might give me like a flirty look but she’s gonna go home tonight sucking dick and take it in the ass with  some other guy… while I’m getting raped in League of Legends… getting a new and interesting fucking character and planning for the last hundred games

Clarify like every time I see a hot girl it’s just instant pathetic… not necessarily anger at what they do … we anticipate they’re gonna do to you that in addition to maybe look at that they manipulate men with her body down bitch fucking a money-hungry bigger and a lot of every room just fucking chocolate three guys a week and never call me again your life your eye I see the person fucked me or so many campus times yes i did some see that and then it’s just in my life brings back everything all at once



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Exorcism 0 (0)


I use creativity as a ventilation tool, there is no measuing, the pain I’ve been through, knock on wood, hoping, I will get through, life, day by day, my mental, is shook,  It’s been ravaged, why is this cold world so fucking backwards every day I endure, a life of depression rage and madness, prayin I’ve been(bean) through the worst, like a lentil, 

I donno if I can handle, another day like this, prayin I’m capable, of going on, salty as fuck and pissed.  Every day, every night, leaves a nasty taste in my mouth like greypoupon, draggin on, I put the mask on, every time someone asks me how I am, how the fuck am I supposed to respond? I’m so fucked, I don’t give a damn, yea that’s what I would say, I pray, for brighter days,

I’m tryn take life one step at a time, but my shoelaces are untied, can’t deny, this pain anymore, my soul has been defiled, layin on the floor, ballin my eyes out, call it the Nile, why the fuck do I even try any more. They’re tryna widdle me down little by little, like a nail file, we’re all stuck in the game of life, but I ain’t playin anymore.

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Stories 0 (0)


It was the most excruciating spine chilling scream of agony that would make your worst nightmare’s worst nightmare seem like a Bambie Christmas special.  Words couldn’t possibly describe the evils that were carried out in the basement of 23 Bleaker Street.  Smiley the clown couldn’t remember a defining moment when his heart had turned to ice.  It had been a gradual process.  The darkness had taken over and he had grown to take prid, enjoyment, and pleasure out of his evil deeds.  Good old mister smiley is what they used to call him. He had been told he was the sweetest, kindest and most caring clown that that had ever existed.  And well, he was. Things used to be different.    He used to love the kids more than anything.   But that was then and this was now.  He was never going back and nothing was going to change that. 

Not far from the Smiley residence Rachel Stevens was in such a panic she couldn’t formulate complete sentences.  “But, how, why, when did he, are there leads? How could this happen?” Detective Bradley didn’t know what to say.  He wanted to comfort her and tell her it would be ok but he didn’t believe it himself and he didn’t have much to work with.  “Yes, we will call you the second we have any new information Mrs. Harris, I promise.  We are doing everything we can to locate your son.”  She was hysterical.   Thomas was days away from his eighth birthday.  He had never been more excited.  His parents had promised him a brand new bright red BMX bike.  Thomas wanted to be a professional BMX rider one day and although his parents knew he was too young to do tricks, they didn’t wasn’t to spoil his hopes and dreams because there was nothing that Thomas had wanted more in his world.  He had had been counting down the minutes until he could ride it around the block and show it off to all the big kids who already had BMX bikes and could do tricks, but that brand new bright red BMX bike was the last thing on Bobby’s mind…

Another gut-wrenching scream filled the soundproofed basement of 23 Bleaker Street.  Mr. Smiley wiped the blood off the surgical spoon and proceeded to place the second of two freshly removed eyeballs into their designated jar.    He was hungry, but good things come to those who wait is what his parents had told him as a child, and this piece of advice had always lingered in the back of his brain. 

Smiley often enjoyed instilling false hope in his victims’ families.  He loved to create the delusion that there was light at the end of the tunnel and they might one day be reunited with their loved ones but not once had he ever intended on returning his specimens, even after the ransoms were paid off.  He had made a healthy living off the ransom money he collected from the aching hearts of loving parents.  Smiley’s heart was stained with the darkest and coldest blackness imaginable and it would never be lightened.  He was destined to drown in languish until the end.  Reality was suffering and life was pain. Rage had turned the rivers of his heart red with blood. Unendurable torment and an eternal regret and guilt had mutated his soul into the essence of evil and he embraced this transformation with open arms.  He was viciously and ruthlessly blazing down the highway to Hell and he intended on taking as many men women and children along for the ride as he possibly could.

But Smiley hadn’t always been hell-bound.  He was only human, and therefore nowhere near perfect, but, for the overwhelming majority of his life, he had been the type of person that some might describe as “saint-like”.  Like most, he had struggled to overcome hardships in his life and for a long time he did not let adversity deter him from working towards the things he wanted in life.  Mr. Smiley had a heart of gold and although life hadn’t really dealt him the cards that he had hoped for, he never let this get the best of him. Well, in the “before times” that is…

The “before times” for Mr. Smiley was a time when there had been some sense of order and clarity to his life.  These were the days when the life he led had resembled some level of normalcy.  Things hadn’t ever been “perfect” or even ideal, but for the time being, the “before times” ?were, was? as good as it was going to get, and he was ok with that.  Mr. Smiley never let adversity or misfortune deter dissuade him from attaining what his heart so desired.  Some of Mr. Smiley’s best days were spent at a place known as Happyville Clown School.  Happyville was a place that would transform a lifetime of hard work and determination into happiness and success.  It was a place where dreams came true.  To him, it was the break of a lifetime and he was on top of the world while at Happyville.  Life was good. 

The light at the end of Mr. Smiley’s tunnel had never shone brighter and nothing was going to hold him back… or so he thought.  One of his most prized and sacred memories had been his graduation ceremony from Happyville.  He had never worked harder for anything in his life.  He could remember it as if it were yesterday…

“And the award for best clown of the year goes to none other than…. MR. Smiley!”  He couldn’t believe his ears. Butterflies filled his stomach and he tried desperately to hold back the tears of utter joy but not contain himself.  It was a beautiful    

Ever since his third birthday party he knew that he was going to be a clown.  Nothing had ever made him happier in his entire life than when he was handed his first balloon animal.  His eyes had lit up like a street lamp and his heart melted.    Mr. Smiley approached the stage, his lower lip was quivering.  He was determined to be the best clown the kids had ever seen.  And he was. Over the next few years he had touched more children’s hearts than anyone who had ever graduated Happyville Clown School.  He had a fiery passion for life and things were going good.  Then things changed… He would never be good old Mr. Smiley again.  He had turned into a monster. Fueled by evil, he fed off a vindictive and malicious intent.  An endless string of tragedy, betrayal, and spiteful regret had ignited the flame that scorched a hole of eternal emptiness in his soul that would never be filled.

   It had all started with the death of his parents.  Smiley had been preparing for the most grand performance of his life.  His parents never approved of his lifestyle as a clown but he wanted to prove to them that he was worth a damn and for the first time that they had agreed to attend one of their son’s performances.  He wanted it to be special.  He wanted to them to be proud of him.  They died in a car crash that afternoon and it was entirely his fault.  That afternoon about an hour before his performance he had debated calling them to make sure they had the right directions.  At first he decided against it but on second thought what did he have to lose.  He proceeded to dial his mother’s telephone number and after about four or five rings the line cut off.  He tried again but there was no answer.  He didn’t think much of it and hung up about half way through his mother’s voicemail message.  That was the last time he would ever hear her voice.  He had ended his parent’s existence with a single phone call and he would have to live with this for the rest of his life.  The police report stated that his parents Camry had swerved into the left lane of I-78 at the peak of rush hour.  The Camry violently and uncontrollably spiraled into the back of a lumber transport truck and sent it screeching across the highway. The Lumber had had gone tumbling across I-78 and sent the highway into a frenzy of cataclysmic horror.  It had been referred to as the worst series of collisions that had been recorded in over a decade.  Over 30 innocent people were killed and more than a dozen were fatally wounded.  One of the deceased was a child by the name of Billy Turner.    He was Mr. Smiley’s biggest fan.  He had attended just about every public performance Mr. Smiley had hosted in the last three years.  Billy had a special place in Smileys’ heart.  Billy looked up to Mr. Smiley because Billy’s father had walked out on him and he didn’t have a positive male role model in his life.  Smiley always encouraged Billy to follow his dreams because he believed that anything was possible and that life had no limits.  Billy dreamed of being a clown just like Smiley one day and this made Smiley feel like he had a purpose in life.  He loved Billy. But now Billy would never be a clown.  When the paramedics perilously sawed through the mangled wreckage in a desperate attempt to save Smiley’s parents they had been too late.  His mother was still clutching her cell phone in her hand with such a firm grip that they had to pry it from her fingers. 

Everything went to hell after that.  He was evicted from his condo that he had paid for with his sweat and blood.  He had worked endless days and nights and prepared for his shows with countless hours of preparation. Slowly but surely he had managed to save up enough to buy a small place that wasn’t much it was enough to get by.  He begged his landlord on his hands and knees to give him just two weeks to come up with the money that he owed for the rent. He had friends that were there for him is what he told his landlord.  They would lend him the money he needed to pay the backed rent until he could get back on his feet.  Two days is what the landlord gave him to come up with money.  His friends had his back, or so he thought.  They had been the best of friends at Happyville. They practiced clown routines together every day of the week.  They told him they would always be there for him through thick and thin and they had his back no matter what but when Smiley so desperately needed his friends more than ever they had abandoned him.  “Sorry Smiley, I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, maybe another time” is what they told him.  The feeling of betrayal sent him into an almost catatonic state of depression and rage.  Smiley was evicted.  Things only got worse from that point on.  He was forced into a life of panhandling dirty subway cars that reeked of urine for the best clown tricks he had up his sleeve.  The public had laughed him out of just about every subway car he performed for.  His change cup had remained as empty and as heart and soul.  He was a failure.  Smiley was forced to sleep in dark alleys, dumpster diving to keep from starving.    He had nothing left.  No family, no friends, no job, no passion, no money and, no will to live.    Every day was more unbearable than the previous.  Smiley spent most of his days on the corner of Harvard avenue endlessly shaking the same dirty McDonald’s cup day after day, hour after hour hoping and praying that someone would have the compassion to help out a man who had only had the best of intentions and wanted nothing more than to give back to this cruel world that so heartlessly and ruthlessly turned on him, but day after day, week after week, the same four pennies jingled an endless melody of hopelessness.  Even the kids who had looked up to him and loved him had turned on him.  He had nothing.  It was at this point that the transformation began.  He hated everything and everyone including himself.  The world had fucked him with a dick of epic proportions and now he was going to return the favor…

Smiley transported the blood filled jar of tongues, eyes, and teeth to the storage room located on the first floor of the abandoned house he had turned into his humble abode.  The eyes were a delicacy to him.  He popped a freshly removed eye into his mouth and bit down.  The juices dribbled out of the side of his mouth and the slimy yet delicious jelly like substance slid down his throat smooth as butter. He licked his fingers then opened the reinforced metal door that led to the storage room.  The scent of death and rotting human carcass filled his nostrils and he took savored the scent.  The room was dark.  He passed maggot infested human limbs, mostly of children on his left and organs that were just as decomposed on his right.  He often liked to age his meals before indulging but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. Before placing the jar towards the back of the room on a shelf with other decaying eyes and tongues he sucked down the second of two delectibles.  It was just as delicious as the first.  

He craved more but needed to pace himself, he needed to conserve his edibles.  As he closed the storage room door he couldn’t help but think of thinking of how thankful that he was for his constant supply of specimens for quite some time now.  He rarely premeditated his abductions. They somehow seemed to always fall into his lap and he was grateful. 

He feasted on the eye and tounges but he liked to pull the teeth for shits and giggles.

Detective Bradley sat at his desk in in a state of agitated confusion.  People had been disappearing almost on a regular basis for over a year now.  He impatiently tapped his pen on his desk and couldn’t help but thinking of how he was failing the people who trusted in him and his associates to protect and serve them.  He had not so much as one single lead.  No witnesses, no fingerprints, no evidence what so ever.  It just didn’t make sense.  Whoever was doing this knew what they were doing and didn’t intend on getting caught any time soon.  He let out an exasperated sigh and decided to call it a night.  He made his way towards the office window to shut the blinds as a crimson red sky streaked with orange highlights was rapidly darkening.  This sent a wave of shivers down his spine.  Darkness was approaching.  He grabbed his keys off the desk and made his way towards the door.  As he approached his car he lit a cigarette.  He was exhausted.  Tomorrow was a new day and all he could do at this point was hope for the best but hope wasn’t going to rescue innocent children from the hands of a coldblooded child kidnapper. He was scared.  Bradley took another drag of his cigarette then started the ’97 Ford Taurus.  He didn’t know what the future held for the small town he had grown to love so much but things weren’t looking good.  Detective Bradley couldn’t help but think of how Mrs. Stevens wouldn’t be tucking her son into bed tonight and a tear started to run down his cheek.  He drove off into the darkness and somewhere in the distance a coyote howled.

It had been seven years to the day since Mrs. Stevenson had gazed into her sons big blue loving eyes.  Tears began to stream down her face as she picked up Bobby’s fifth grade school photograph.  Not a day had passed since his disappearance where she hadn’t thought of him every second of every day.  His stuffed animals and GI Joes still were gathering dust in the same position he had left them in seven long and painful years ago.  To this day she couldn’t bring herself to set foot in his room to this day.  One day she would reunite her son.  How she longed to ?hold her first born son – hug? in her arms and tell him how much she loved him.  Mrs. Stevenson wiped her eyes with her sleeve and set the photograph back on the living room table sanctuary.  Her life was destitute and nothing would ever fill the emptiness of her aching heart until she found her son.  She would never stop searching.  She loved her son with all her heart and nothing was ever going to change that. 


About half a mile from the Harris residence a new family had moved to town.  Jessica and her husband had just gotten back from their honeymoon and were ready to raise their son in a nice peaceful quiet town.  Her husband had just gotten a huge promotion at work and they were financially stable.  Life was good.  They were on top of the world and nothing could bring them down.  Jessica decided to take a break from unpacking boxes and take her five year old son to the front yard so he could test out his brand new basketball and enjoy the beautiful day. The sun was shining and the breeze rustled the trees. Orange tinted brownish leaves danced through the streets.  Autumn was Jenny’s favorite time of year and she savored the moment.  The sound of her son’s basketball echoed through the streets and she was at peace.  Suddenly a small cluster of balloons caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.  The balloons mesmerized her and she watched them drift across the sky until they were no longer visible.  Suddenly an eerie silence filled the streets.  She called her son’s name but there was no answer.  Only silence.

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League of Legions 0 (0)

The first game of league of legends I ever played, I didn’t have the slightest fucking clue what was going on.  It was different because in AOE 3, you commanded armies and had multiple different troops attacking, and doing different things. I like that this was not the case in LOL, because I wanted something different.

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You only control one “champion” in LOL.  Anyone who makes a new account starts at level 1. You have to play against AI until level 3.  The first champ I ever played was Dr. Mundo, It is very hard to find a comprehensive guide online on how to play.  Throughout my leauge career I learned 99.1% of everything on my own. At first I didn’t even know enemy from ally.  I didn’t know that each champ has 4 moves, I didn’t know what you had to do to win, I didn’t know anything.
To be a successful league player, you have to be familiar with not only between 150-200 champs, you have to know every champs 4 moves, their “passive” which is a characterisic that makes each champ unique, you have to know the range of every ability. Their cooldowns (how long it takes for each move to be useable, after boing used) You need to know the map inside out, what compositions of champs work well together and which don’t. You have to know the traits of, and viability of approximately 200 items, how much gold they cost, and which work well with what champ, and when to and not to use them situaltionally depending on your enemy’s, or ally’s item build. Other than picking up a tip here and a tip there, I learned this all on my own over the course of about 4 years.
I always sucked at the game until the day I quit.  I invested in LOL probably more than I did in skateboarding. It has always been difficult for me to leave things behind, especially when I have invested large amounts of time and effort towards the habit, or activity, especially when I haven’t successfully conquered “it”, what ever “it” may be. I always felt, “Well, I’ve put this much time and energy into “insert here”, if I leave it behind now, the last X amount of time and energy would have gone to nothing and it would be a complete waste of time”. To keep this relatively short, after about 2 years of religiously playing 8 to 14 hours a day, I was still getting destroyed.  There are two main methods of gameplay. Normals, and ranked. In normals,
Please note;
I draw these images 100% as I see them.  There are often times whn I am tempted to draw it as I want, but I do not give in.  That is how this art is created.
 As is.
Dear League of Legends,
I hate you.  You stole your years of my life from me, you made me hate my life, you made me depressed, you made me feel like a failure and even put me in a mental institution.  You thought you won.  But now I’m back, and I’m going to expose your deepest darkest secret to the world that will sabotage your entire entity.  The secret is this; The Devil is real and operates through League of legends, I am here to prove this though my art and enlighten the world to a fact that is prevalent… He runs… Take a look…
The Devil often appears a moment before a Champion is about to die.  Here, he is about one tenth or a health bar away from death.  What I see here, is the Devil with a gun between his legs with an exuberant smile on his face.  This indicates the is ready to wage war.  Another interesting point is that slugs, or snakes, are a recurrent theme.  There is a slug in this image on the top right of the drawing.  He has a red heart in the middle of him representing, “Satans love”, or a façade of it anyway.  He wants war… Let there be war… I ain’t scared of the Devil…
Here, the Devil has a facial expression that expresses pain and agony, his mouth is the black and green, the eye on the right is blacked out, and the eye on the left is an alien spaceship shooting out its laser beam (I believe the aliens are colluding with Satan but that’s another stor. The yellow stars represent the Baphomet, which displays an upside down star. There is a sun with arms and legs on the right side of the face.  This represents the sun, or “Son” of God who the Devil wages war against.  I didn’t see until halfway throught the piece, and  I doubt many people will see this, but anyways the black nose holes also serve as a mouth to the right perspective of a horse eating a slug.  The red coloring is the horses snout and it shares the blackened eye with the Devil and the light blue is the face/neck area.
Quite a bit is going on here. To me, there is a pretty obvious Devil with two eyes at the top and two horns protruding from the head slightly below the eyes. it’s mouth is the blue square, and his chin is the same as the demons lower jaw.  Another incredibly prevalent theme, is that the Devil is always hiding behind a mask, and sometimes, the mask is hiding behind a mask etc. Here, the mask is located at the bottom left of the image. The perspective is as if your looking at it from the left side.  It has two black eyes, a nose, and two teeth on it’s upper jaw, with the lower jaw being orange.  Then. there is a little demonoid on the bottom right of the image.  Two small black eyes and nose holes with an open mouth an a grey lower jaw.  Also, numbers are a big part of deciphering Satan’s deception. Take the number 155 at the top right.
1 + 5 = 6   1 + 5 = 6   5 + 5 – 1 = 9
The Devil perverts Christ by inversing the cross, and if you inverse 9, it is 6… Hence you have 666… The mark of the beast.
In this piece, the Devils shows himself with re eyes a grey nose with black nose holes and a black mouth.  The slug appears in this one at the bottom right of the image.  This one is pretty start forward, from my perspective anyways.

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I will start this this story from a very vivid memory I have. First, let me state that I have suffered from suicidal ideations damn near my whole life.  I have always attempted to mask these feelings, whether through smoking weed, skateboarding, watching excessive amounts of television, music, etc…

I was hospitalized in 200X in Xmonth, but that is another story,  when I was released from the hospital, I was forced to attend an outpatient drug treatment program for marijuana.  Before I continue, let me say this, I believe that marijuana has had more of positive impact on my life than negative, 2 hits of weed in my teenage years would bring me out of my most severe depressions.  I would literally be crying my eyes out in my bed wishing that some alternate force would take my life so I didn’t have to suicide, because I knew if I suicided I would go to hell and that was enough incentive to not commit the deed… but anyways, when I was released from my first hospitalization, it was the first time in my life I had to live with coping without marijuana, since a young age.  I didn’t know how to cope.

Now, back to my vivid memory, I remember being in a chinese food restaurant what couldn’t have been more than 3 days after I was released from when? inpatient.  I was delusionally trying to devise a plan where I could relocate to California so I could get a medical marijuana card and smoke freely without any limitaions, opposed to staying where I lived and having to be sober. After about 10 minutes of running each and every scenario through my head on how I could make it work, reality hit me in face like a brick. It’s not happening. I immediately started thinking of how I could possibly cope with reality.

At some point, I had a dream about Age of Empires?  X-Box video game I had played when I was a kid. I remembered how much I enjoyed it so I said fuck it, I’ll give it another try.  Long story short, I became addicted to the video game just like I had been addicted to every other coping mechanism that I indulged in my life.  I wasn’t necessarily addicted to the game, I was addicted to blocking out my cold, cruel, hard, and painful reality.

Within a month, I was playing the game between 8 and 18 hours a day. I would play the game through the day, then stay up all night, and attend my college class at 8:XX and would be fallng asleep in class, I started pissing in bottles so I wouldn’t have to go 1 minute and 30 seconds without the game.  I would say this was one of the lower points in my life, but every damn day since I popped out the uterus was a low point.  I have failed at 99.9% of things In life that I have attemped, and this game was not the .01%

Anyways, this went on for about a year and X months of losing, being insulted by fellow players, disapointing my team mates, and overall, just contributing to my neverending misery, I said fuck it, I can’t do this anymore. So I checked out some online videos of popular free videogames.  I stumbled upon League of Legends.  League of legends to me was an untamable beast. Literally. What I am going to disclose about this game, some people might not be capable of stomaching or believing, but whethter you believe it or not, it’s true. This is my league of legends testimony.

I am going to make a pretty bold statement right now.  Before you decide for yourself whether I a am either a nutjob who needs to take his medication, or someone who knows more than the average person, (Which I am btw) at least accept the cold hard facts which I am about to convey to you before you read my the folowing passages.

Well here it is… The most popular game in the world, League of legends, might as well be called League of Satan.  Demonic and evil entities are the driving force behind this game.

The first game of league of legends I ever played, I didn’t have the slightest fucking clue what was going on.  It was different because in AOE 3, you commanded armies and had multiple different troops attacking, and doing different things. I liked that this was not the case in LOL, because I wanted something different.

You only control one “champion” in LOL.  Anyone who makes a new account starts at level 1. You have to play against AI until level 3.  The first champ I ever played was Dr. Mundo, It is very hard to find a comprehensive guide online on how to play.  Throughout my league career I learned 99.1% of everything on my own. At first I didn’t even know enemy from ally.  I didn’t know that each champ has 4 moves, I didn’t know what you had to do to win, I didn’t know anything.

To be a successful league player, you have to be familiar with not only between 150-200 champs, you have to know every champs 4 moves, their “passive” which is a characteristic that makes each champ unique, you have to know the range of every ability. Their cooldowns (how long it takes for each move to be useable, after boing used) You need to know the map inside out, what compositions of champs work well together and which don’t. You have to know the traits of, and viability of approximately 200 items, how much gold they cost, and which work well with what champ, and when to and not to use them situaltionally depending on your enemy’s, or ally’s item build. Other than picking up a tip here and a tip there, I learned this all on my own over the course of about 4 years.

I always sucked at the game until the day I quit.  I invested in LOL probably more than I did in skateboarding. It has always been difficult for me to leave things behind, especially when I have invested large amounts of time and effort towards the habit, or activity, especially when I haven’t successfully conquered “it”, what ever “it” may be. I always felt, “Well, I’ve put this much time and energy into “insert here”, if I leave it behind now, the last X amount of time and energy would have gone to nothing and it would be a complete waste of time”.

To keep this relatively short, after about 2 years of religiously playing 8 to 14 hours a day, I was still getting destroyed.  There are two main methods of gameplay. Normals, and ranked. In normals, it is not serious. You play normals when you are either a beginner, or you want to try out a new champ.  It is not taken seriously, it is mostly just for fun where you can bs around and it doesn’t matter.

You must reach level 30 to play ranked. Ranked is a whole new ball game. In ranked, you play for points. When you lose a ranked game you lose points, or, elo. When you win a game you gain elo and the way it works now is you gain between 4 and 16 points per win, depending on your win-lose ratio. When you get to 100 points you move up a bracket. The lowest bracket is 5, then 4, 3, 2, and 1. When you get 100 points, you enter a series. If you win 2 out of 3 games you move up a division. I would lose so many games that after winning 3 games in a row, I would lose the 3 games worth of points in 1 loss.

I always had fantastical fantasies of being a high ranked player. The lowest division is bronze, then silver, then gold, then platinum, then diamond. After diamond, it works a little differently.  If you are interested in how the top tier divions work, do your own research, all I will say is that challenger is equivalent to professional tier.  I must have ranked up approximately 10 accounts in my lol career with hopes of ranking up.

My biggest concern on a day to day basis was gaining points. When I lost games I would so pissed that I damn near broke my hand one day from punching my wall hours before playing a gig with my band. I never made it past mid silver, even when I was in silver, the only reason I was that high ranked was because I was placed there after my 10 provisional matches.  I always god demoted to bronze account, after account, after account, and inevitably and eventually landed among the worst of the worst; bronze 5.  What I’m about to tell you might not believe, but I ensure you, I am not lying.  I am in the process of attaining information to prove this, and what I have attained will be featured on the site.

League of Legends is satanically oriented. On one of my final days I was playing a champion by the name of Leblanc. Leblanc is known as “The Deciever”.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Satan himself is referred to as the deciever.  I was in mid lane, and shortly after I started to fight my enemy, she said as clear as crystal… SATAN… I couldn’t believe my ears.

Thankfully I had a game recording device, recording my games, so I rewatched the clip and I was right. The satanic forces behind this stunt, deleted the clip through means that were beyond my control. This solidified my speculations.

There is a war being waged in this world between good and evil, as there is a war in LOL between good and evil.  I couldn’t rank up because satanic forces were holding me back. I always “accidently” pressed the wrong button, misclicked the diretion I wanted to go, or was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I even remember a time where these demonic forces straight up teleported my character.  I was hypothetically 15 inches away from the enemy, and I was going to escape, and somehow my champ magically teleported into range of the enemy.  This was the work of demonic forces.  After x years of playing about 100 hours a week, maybe 75ish games per week, maybe more, I thought to myself, wtf, how can I be so bad at something I have never put more effort into. The answer is because satanic forces were holding me back.

I remember I was playing a game in bronze 5.  I had 20 kills and 1 death.  That is absurd, anyone with 20 kills should be able to damn near singlehandedly win a match… Unless the wrath of Satan is being inflicted upon you. Demons would physically move my fingers to fuck me up, they would use mind control on me to make stupid game decisions, and cause me to lose in any way, shape or form. If and or when I was overpowering these forces, like when I had 20 kills, these evil forces would see to it that my team mates intentionally threw the game and made me lose.

I am an angel of God the father, and their intent was to destroy me. I tried quitting the game multiple times towards the end of my LOL career. I related my LOL addiction to a herioin addiction (I don’t use heroin btw).  You know it’s bad for you, you know it’s killing you, but you can’t stop doing it, and when you’re not doing it, it’s all you can think about.

When you don’t have it you crave it more than life itself, and you want to stop, but just don’t know how.  The demon’s intent was to destroy my life at all means possible.  Looking back through my years of LOL, I don’t know if I started, or ended with less. If they could make me believe that I was not only incapable of achieving something that I never put more effort and time into, I would self destruct.

I have always had an obsession with being great and if they made me believe I was incapable at succeeding at or achieving greatness. They would win. This is how I felt for a long time on some level, everyday was miserable because I would lose, and lose, and lose, on a daily basis. There were players who had been playing the game 1/4 the time I played, and they were in diamond, meanwhile I was playing with people who just started 2 weeks ago, and they were still kicking my ass.  I am proud to say my league of legends days are over.

The Voynich Manuscript

[su_quote style=”modern-light”]Dr D,

I find this interesting and would like to study it some more but here a is a brief observation I made after a few minutes.




After looking at a few of the picture I noticed something.  In the first picture what seems to be a plant, I don’t think is a plant.  First of all, what seem to be the roots are not roots, it’s a stand.  THis is clear because not only is it being held up on the right, left, then the fourth right “stick?” is protruding forwards, then the next stick to the right is holding it from the back. It is an illusion that shows this “thing” being elevated by this elevated base type thing. Now  another interesting thing is that the green thing that looks like leaves isn’t leaves.  you can tell because the coloring is behind what looks like the stem type thing that connects the base to the green coloring.

Holy fuck I just saw something.  The 5 spces that are not colored in the green area look like commas, but flip it upside down and it’s 666 vertical and 666 horizontal, both sharing  the same 6. I think the piece that connects the base to the coloring is blowing out this energy/fire or something and this energy is of 666.  I wanted to go into this without rushing into “oh it’s demonic” so quick but just from this one picture it looks like that might be the case?



In the second picture what they claim to be roots are actually another elevated base type object, a leg on the left, a leg on them right, and a leg in the front, all separated in 120 degree increments.

Again in the third picture down what look like plants are standing on

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