What Bothers Me Most About This Picture Is…

   Is that horses.. do not LOOK at the painter. They don’t give a CRAP about portraits. I mean, they will crap, but probably not in mid-air as the colon probably cinches up with a jump.


      Do YOU cinch up with a jump? Don’t tell me. Don’t tell your priest. No, wait.. DO! They need a laugh.

    Don’t mess with people at funeral homes, pleeease?? Do you know, they have to pretend there are not bodies in the joint. Or maybe that’s me.

      I went to a mauseleum. True story- I know my credit here is NO GOOD, but its true. I visited gramma’s grave and I said, “See YOU SOON!”- meaning like FIFTY YEARS. Soon enough. I got shit to do.

       So I told a funeral director THERE a joke about… Uh… dead animals. He laughed and was reluctant to enjoy the joke. I saw Harold and Maude and I finally got it. I guess.

      Do you want to know the joke? Too bad!!



      What do you need?


      Bark dust.


      What do you call a cremated dog?

      Oh, shit. I failed.


How are you?
1) O.k.
2) OKay
3) O.W.

If you answered 1, “o.k.”-
      you are a contemporary.
   Same with 2.
One theory says it comes from “all correct”…

Simplifying to phonetic with a spin it becomes oll korrect…
Then “okay”, “o.k.”

#3 is the predessesor.
OW is
“Oll wright”.
    As in “ALL (is) RIGHT
Kind of dumb?
THAT is the point.

I suppose saying “o.k.” is less annoying than “IDK”- I dunno.
Why do you not know?

I analyze my feelings to the marrow. I like to say I am okay (o.k.) if people ask because (A) I am alive.

There is no B. Or C. Or more, because I have a painful condition. It gives me sick ideas that I think are minimally offensive and maximally entertaining… to a low level of pro writer.

My ideas to me are hell.
If someone asks me, “What is on your mind?” And I say, “Oh I am so glad I am 40 and not 15 (I flashback less now).”
I endured a hernia for a year and at first the pain shot into my back.

       It was more fantasticly awesome than a near death experience because of how very truly Auschweitz the pain was for the next 18 months. I have a level of autism spectrum disorder along with hereditary angioedema. I could not define or express my pain.

         I freaked my mom out. Adults should have known better than to teach ANY kid that God sends unbelieving persons to hell. There should be a license for that. There isn’t.

    There was a big emphasis that you feel good when you know God loves you.

So I:

Had a religion over my head.
Had a very finite way to deal with pain.
Had maximum pain. And I still do. HAE is an “8 everyday” pain.

Honestly, I redid my mind.
I figure with this eating me, Aesop’s lion with a thorn is me. My rescuer? Not a mouse.

Actually, I ransacked the old religion and put the man with a wood throne from 33 A.D. next to me. Crucified, we talk back to back for LIFE. I deserve what? That old argument of sin and scumbags is dead. I have needs and my sin is being pathetic.

       You would never know what I feel if you met me. I am one of God’s best kept secrets.

     As for you, are you o.k.?

     If you donate a $1,000,000 love gift to my mini-series, ministries, menses- you would be a knuckle-head.
I don’t have that.

     In Arabia they call my stare way to heaven “Isa Il-masaih”. I stare away like a goober St. Bernard… he drags me along the sea shore.

     ONE set of foot prints the whole way. And kicks and tons of dog shit.

     Are you suprised to hear a holy man say shit? I am not holy. Shit, man… HE is.

    The military has an allowance of cussing. In the Lord’s army, I avoid fuck the f-bomb. I mean I avoid the f-bomb. Why? One reason. I don’t know what the hell it means. I am not speaking in tongues here. Every language of man is junk weight.

     You ever frame a word that you have said?

    I frame in my head.
I do not know how that works.

  A scripture says

May God be true and every man a liar. I am bracing myself. Stellar order and mercy will come to me yet again.

You Two For Free


And you givvvve

And you givvvve

And you GIVE
        YOUR ALBUM


“Ayy.. we uz add thih pub
An the Edge he say, ‘Adam
maybe if’n ya poz nekkid anodder tyme’ an
Adam (hesoftspokenasitis you know) he lydes up a cigarret and says


And Im like laffin me-ass off de whole time and we said ‘aw stuff it’ just lets put the album out fa freeee

And the IRA actually sen us a get well card nah im just fula shait…

“Aqua Plankton”

Actually… I “plank” on AGUA.
I only plank on water.
“Planking”, you know??



Laying dead.


Laying dumb.


But don’t touch!
No!- not at an ANGLE.
Not on your FACE, Dead Clarke Kent
Not-super man.

But I DO plank.
On my back.

In the dark.

For hours.

In water…

And I get taken away like Calgon promised so many years ago and NEVER DID deliver.

Instant Theta. Float On. Hawthorne and 40-some, SE, Portland, OR. Owned by Chris and Friends. He had an Altered States uprighter. I never saw her. I heard. Right on. There is your blogspot,
guys! I give you ★★★★★!

Float On: Altered Oregon States

The water is double the saline of the Dead Sea and in a tank. Ever see “Altered States” with William Hurt?

Picture (s) Of Float On Goes Here:


I take it to a Theta level and downshift with this auditory PNS depressant that has no name, but a vent. I’ll call it “Snow Vader”. All the bluebirds and robotic feel… no darkside except for the pitch dark and my cerebral electroprocesses will literally have me dreaming while awake… perhaps in only minutes this run.

   This is experiment #5. Data I journal is ambiguous that I experience. Its personal. Fringe art of experience. It works on existential brain centers of reality. Some say, “realization” and make a big hype like its a drug. It affects your body stasis harmony, awareness. It cannot tell you who you are.

   I’d guess the owners would say it helps you realise what is going on deep within and certainly could be a spiritual tool. But so coul a spoon! Stare at it. Someone important is in it!

Float is…

A float tank is an “unspoon”… you spoon with no one. You do not bend the spoon. You ARE the spoon.

Fork A Rook

Omar and Ren were playing chess and had this discussion:



The pieces were all set and Ren said, “I invented a religion today that works.”

Omar: Lets hear it

Ren:   Okay. Lets assume we are dead already and this is the afterlife. God is still relevent


Omar: But no meeting God…

Ren: How would you know if you had not?

Omar: There is still pain


Ren: But destruction is beautiful. Look at your recyclable paper coffee cup

Omar: tastes a little like paper? What are you going to do with your idea?


Ren: I intend to present this idea and use the bishop to fork the idea over.

Omar: imaginary afterlife, thats placebo?


Ren: You know how it is… as long as you mean well, “what does truth matter?”

Omar: What is truth?

Ren: Exactly


Author aside…

I am Andrew Harrison and actually exist.

I wanted to show how I think.
With an angle toward psychologiclal, existential, metaphysical, practical, everyday, good humored, fun loving
craft of expression. Its similiar to how I talk everday. Mindful of feeling accurately and gingerly the world around me as I am on, I suppose, what you would call a walk in life.

    Crawling as a baby, walking talking growing…

    Now I am a man. Not overnight.
Your see that I am into perspective.


I do like to “look up”


(Fresh unfrozen ego)

The Unpage

According to an internet programme, I was conceived on July 4th, 2014… let’s say… at 6:30pm. Zygote genesis! So then, I am 40 years, 1 month 26 days 4 hours 46 minutes 2:00045 seconds old.
As a genetic unit and body.

Since I was chance before then, all the components of my body existed 7 days prior arguably mature and ready as a speratazoa in STOCK with 200 million other losers (no offense) and an OVA, nearer in the ovary, right or left to be released. Since my ingredients, definitely BOUND to meet by CHANCE, are apart- they are not divided.

     So there I am, ready to live, perfectly not assembled… but definititely not DISASSEMBLED.

    If I was a zygote and did not attatch to the uterine wall, I would find no furtherence and decompose. I would be obliterated. Since half of all conceptions do not take, this means there could have been at least 14 billion people by now. Or more.

     I see no tradgedy at least in a natural occurance. A zygote slips. Now miscarriage is more personal.

     Say if a boy is pitched a baseball and hits it 4 times and misses once, does he stop baseball totally? He could.

    Do we value life correctly? Am I an old zygote? Seriously. I have eaten food and added to my mass for 39 years. Me being lost in a river and going into the ocean is no problem for the fish. The ocean would pick me apart. I am biologically sound. The earring in my ear would last and maybe rust or calcify and my bones would last. Now see, at investigating the Titanic, bodies certainly were TRAPPED, and none werd found. Sea water is an eraser.

      So those fine people aboard who were loved became disassembled. We say they died.

    They died.

   Fine. But did they die forever. Who started life? Who in the heck knew my spermy and eggy one WEEK before I became a blooby pre-baby zygote?


   I was like dead then in May 1973 before my Mummy and Daddy got drunk in love and kicked their shoesies off and said, “Let’s make a miracle!”

   Who is in control?


   Who knows when I will die?


Who knows the very day I will die?


Who knows I write this now and smile?

  Only God.

Who is nice to me?

Ummm. People.

Who do I thank?


So is God a big deal to Andy?


Who is Andy and a whole lot of people and Earth important to today.

Mmmm. God.

So that sound okay to you guys?
I know I need answers and love and keep it light. And fresh and smarty.
Boy do I like to have a smarty good fun time!



About to add a million soon

I am predicting

And counting on baby




           Waiting for the Seven Billion
                        Million Baby

For goodness sake, someone call NASA or the Dalai Lama… where are we statistically??? Who dropped the ball??

Nth The Beginning


The Beginning of All
( ??? )
The Sky, the Universe…
And this planet…


Was without definition

It lacked everything…

Maybe it was a blueprint?

Then pow!
Electro-fallafels of light hit the humus!

Dang, that looked good

Day 2?

There was evening, then morning…
That seems backwards…
But people are backwards…
Is written

Or something

Hour 37

It was getting really hot

So all the suns were dispersed across the galaxy

Some suns said, “Hey… let’s go over here and do nothing”. So they took trillions of stars to trillions of galaxies and nobody truly cares what that number is except for an alien named, “Calgon”. He got taken away.

So while the council of Zoom delivered the crates of farm animals in tarps and they were running around, the high councilman whose name is:

( c e n s o r e d )

Surveyed the dark Earth in the year Obscura B.C.E.

From the dimension called “Paranilo” he dropped in an assemblance of himself and using basic applied science far advanced from ours, he assembled a clone of himself.

The clone was unalive and was given a fake belly button to trip him out. Initially, he called him “Adain”, but the clone, man insisted on “Adamas”. Well… they compromised at Adam.

So the councilman saw that it was good like this. But he gave Adam some blue fruit from the morpheus tree. Oh yeah.
And he went to sleep.

The councilman incised Adam with a flint and took out a loosened rib. He blew on the incision and it healed at a very accelerated rate.

Using telekinesis, the councilman, I’ll call him Frap-he put into a sideways order the chromosomes and DNA sequences. Just as he had gone to the river to pull Adam out, so he left.


At the river, Frap held the rib under the water. He imagined what he was not. Also what he was. And instead of thinking of stones as with Adam, He thought of  sky, flowers and the rising moon.

Frap sang to his father, the Great Architectect, to bless his world with a new being type.

He looked and saw, under the warm slow river waters the rib was now a wrist!- A hand holding HIS wrist. He turned his head to see under the water… it was growing dark! The figure had dark hair like water smoke ink.

He pulled her out and she was coughing. A figure like you’d expect, no clothes and a little unsure and blank. So Frap got her food and made her a crown of flowers as he did for Adam. Just for fun. And to say, welcome to your new home.

    The darkness followed them from the river pool as the sun went down. Frap brought the young Eve to young Adam.
Adam took her by the hand. Stuttering with little command of the tongue of Eden… Frap took a walk and he laughed.

     The shadows grew to spite his dreaming…  He did not care, nor care at all

    The darkness comes to rob the beaming…

   But in the end…

   In the end, the darkness falls.