No Plan Japan 41 : Round Table Anarchy

Returning to Taipei was strange for me, like coming to a land your meant to see but never know beyond the thin veneer of its existence. I suppose that’s just how quickly I adapt to new environments now, always ready to evolve as needed. It’s been a strength of mine from the start if only because my family was neither here nor there and everywhere at once, always traveling and engaged with amazing adventures that defy explination, but one does not understand their abilities simply because they have them; to do that takes time and reflection, I suppose 37 years is time enough...

I got back to my hostel and received a message from Doriane for a late-night tea session.

“Why not?” I said.

The place she decided to go was really plush, and in the old town docks where all the goods of Taipei used to come and go back in the day. Old and worn, smelling of time and coin. The tea house was so plush It reminded me of some of the places I went with my crazy Italian lover back in New York. I suppose that’s a redundant statement, all Italians are crazy lovers... in any case, that’s where my mind went as we ordered four separate cups of tea, as Doriane and Oliver her partner had invited another friend from Australia, I think.  

Now I’ve had my share of crank in life, the caffeine variety especially, but this was on another level. It was not overly powerful like the cups I had in Myanmar, but was instead a flavor profile bonanza. I simply couldn’t believe that so many differences could exist for one leaf, but there we were, Anarchists without borders in a candle-lit room above the old docks, in the Capital city of a nation in exile, sipping tea and conspiring towards the evolution of the species. Life is a real trip for those who live it to the fullest, it would seem... We spoke of global affairs, where to live, what to do if and when things get really bad. Doriane said it was like experiencing a real life round table in Kind Aurthur’s court, we all agreed.

I remember so distinctly asking the universe for two things as a child, and I may have mentioned it before, but it deserves a retelling.

1: I want to live in a science fiction reality.

2: Make me a vessel of destiny.

My father always told me to be careful what I ask for... Why did he say that? Because in life, when you ask, you are infinitely more likely to receive than if you do not. I asked, and here I am, in a science fiction reality that’s getting more so every passing second to the point where I wish it would stop, and I seem to be the focal point upon which the entire multiverse pivots upon, at least that’s what life feels like once you’ve committed yourself to doing the right thing even if it means dying a horrible death or living a life estranged from everyone and everything still inside the matrix.

What are we to do when we find out how powerful we really are? Especially when we’ve been led to believe the opposite, and worse, led towards actual weakness in every corridor available within the system? Well, let me tell you. We are to embrace the suck of self-improvement. Reject the comfort of self-delusion, and rise! We only live this life once after all. It is a waste without equal to assume your life is devoid of meaning or power. So live it up! Challenge the Gods and their laws, and find only the one power, the one rule, and use it as a tool. Eventually you will either be alive as never before, a true fool of the tarot, ready for all that comes, or cowering against the tides of change, curled up into another brick for the wall... So what will it be, oh adventurer?

The choice, is always yours...

No Plan Japan 38 : Where DeOccultist’s Dare

How do we know what we know? Is there a guarantee for it somewhere written in adamant itself? I’m sure there is, but for now we must be able to verify with our own eyes that which we claim. My claim is that the human race is and has been indoctrinated by an insidious mental virus known as authority. A menacing evil which makes us put guns to each other’s heads and feather our fingers over the trigger as we demand obedience to the illogical, or else…

I know, it’s not pretty to admit, but just as he without sin is to cast the first stone, he without cult affiliations shall do likewise... However, once you understand the definition of a cult and how easily they do what they do, then suddenly the empty room of one’s life begins to fill with arching shadows which scratch, claw and bite at one’s heels, revealing a world we never knew was there, always feeding on our ignorance while it grows to terrible strength all around us, yet still invisible to the trained eye. Trained not to see in this case, as all authority demands as its first tenant.

Decades ago, after watching the Matrix for the first time I had a revelation about our world which had been festering just under the surface for me since birth. I knew, of course, that there were secrets everyone kept, that much was obvious to even the dullest blade in the drawer, but it was not until watching that movie that the greatest secret of all, the one we keep from ourselves, revealed itself to me. Back in 1999, watching the Matrix, I found that Human beings have such fantastic powers of imagination, that we can bamboozle ourselves into a trance which then spreads like a virus to others until it cultures everyone and everything in reach.

Then, wala, you have a global infrastructure for inculcation with a common core, spread across hundreds of language groups, ethnicities, religions and economies. You might agree that religions and economic systems can be considered cults, and you might even agree that you were in one before, but not now... Certainly not today, out of all days, are you in a substrate of lies... No! Today your free from any and all towering edifices of control and manipulation unseen to all within its ethereal walls. Right? I mean, how can anyone walk the earth and not know their thoughts and feelings belong to some crusty skeleton crew of big brained occultists eons ago?

This is why the Matrix is such a powerful allegory, It perfectly blends our desire for answers with our need to fit in and be accepted, to be safe, and then melts the entire container into itself, leaving only the question.

“Am I really free?”

The answer is hidden in the question.

Really = REAL E = real energy / reel energy (control it)

If one can control their energies, it is because they understand themselves, what makes them tick. Normies can’t do this “normally” because they hitched their tent to the cultural cattle drive, and alter themselves into WIFI range extenders for said cult, having little to no desire for independence. Life outside of the Matrix begins and ends with awareness. You either can see the invisible bars of the prison, or you cannot. Either way, we deal with the repercussions. The big difference is, with awareness you can block the incoming blows, or even avoid them altogether.

I decided years ago that I would not simply sit idly by and watch the world collapse into ignorance and war. Towards this end I began to study the pillars of the lie. Leading me to the likes of Alex Jones, who I had used audio from in a home movie with my friends way back in 04 but didn’t even know who he was yet, and would go on to support for years through his website InfoWars.com

Michael Tsarion, whose Atlantis, Alien Visitation, and genetic Manipulation series blew my mind, and opened the doors for so many other researchers to follow.

Terrence Mckenna, whose Esalen talks about the stoned ape theory, language, religion and the Eschaton, altered my view on life forever more, and led me to the jungles of Peru searching for a rebirth, finding it in the bowels of creation sipping on Ayahuasca for 30 days straight.

Mark Passio, whose WhatOnEarthIsHappening.com website was my go to for becoming a de-ocultist myself, eventually joining his One Great Work Network, a group of Anarchist De-Occultist, (those who are dedicated to Truth, Love, Freedom, and total self-responsibility who reveal what has been forced into secrecy.) This group hails from every nation, language and ethnicity, but has one aim in common, the one above, and we implement it below, within the physical domain, the land of hardened shadow.

To my great surprise I was messaged by a member of this group, whom I had taken my How to become the true media course with (HTBTTM). Dorianne Sarrasin. She’d been living and working in Taipei for some years with her man and had seen that I was in Taiwan. We decided to meet at a vegan cafe, as all three of us are, and it was a wonderful time. Imagine it. You join a group of people who are considered the world over to be straight up EVIL. Anarchy = Chaos, right? Never mind that it = No Masters, and thus, NO Slaves. You join this group and travel the world, and your invited out of the blue to meet with one of its members.

In my mind I imagined Lenin, Trotsky and Guillaume Apollinaire gathered in the La Closerie des Lilas cafe, in Paris 1910. A den of revolutionaries hell bent on change. How interesting that Arch Duke Ferdinand and Sigmund Freud too were there at that time. Do any of us really expect to be a part of history in ways which guide it well beyond our own lives? Not to say I will, or even any of the people in our group, but surely being apart of a movement, no matter what its chances of success, alters the course of history more than doing nothing of the kind can.

Dorianne and her partner invited me to a lovely cafe and we talked it up into the night. Walking the city and discussing the course of history in our time. It’s one thing to discuss your inner most thoughts with people you know, who, though perhaps interested in hearing you out, do not see things the same and contribute nothing substantial to the conversation, vs doing so with people who feel the same and have delved deep into the subjects you have for years at a time. Like a attention starved animal waiting for someone, anyone to come home and play, I charged into the conversations with joy and release in my heart.

We ended the night with a walk around the city capital building, a massive temple complex dedicated to Chiang Kai-Shek, the man who led the nationalist’s in the Chinese civil war and eventually fled to Taiwan in order to survive the communists. The whole place feels more like a scene from a fantasy series than a real place, but that’s the whole idea. The cult of authority made Chiang into a demi-god in order to maintain the separation from the other authority, Mao Ze Dung, claiming power over the people. This is the game played over and over against humanity, and it never fails to divide, and conquer. That, is why I do what I do, and why you too, must find your calling to true care, where all Love stems from, and flows…

No Plan Japan 29: Okinawa Obituary

View fullsize

In the morning I left a voice message for my mom and sister about the system of silence that pervades the entirety of Japanese culture. How, in any and all events, even in ones specifically designed for people to talk openly, the guardrails are always in place, and even if true communication is made, acknowledging it afterword is taboo or somehow a dishonor. One may express themselves, if there is no other option, yet that expression exists forever more inside a vacuum, allowed to be, but never to be seen or heard beyond that. For the Japanese its normal, even as it crushes them everyday of their lives they keep it going, while the average Westerner is obliterated by it instantly, and does not recover even after having accepted it for what it is.

I headed for the airport and flew to Okinawa with inspiration and joy in my heart. I landed and immediately was blown away by just how tropical the islands are. Its truly hot and humid here, the flowers are next gen. That was how the city felt and the people were far different as well, much more open and outgoing, just warmer in general. Which was funny because I had more than one Japanese person up north shake their collective heads at the southerners.

“Not Japanese.” They said. If that’s the case I’ll take it, I was getting frostbite from the chilling behavior of the northerners, I could go for a change of pace.

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

The hostel I stayed at was a multi-floor baseball diamond shaped building butressing a river which had clearly seen things which can never be unseen, and it showed in the face of everyone within the vicinity. Like a visual trauma que, the area itself was a living scar of what this building is and had been since god knows when. Each floor was seeped in sin baked into it by the heat of the tropics. A story wrapped in an adventure lost to the everyday attempt to forget the reason you exist there, and for the purpose of keeping Japan in a constant checkmate since the end of the war.

You see, Okinawa was a special case for ending world war 2, as it was the place America and the allies first landed, and used it as a base to attack every inch of the Japanese mainland. It was also completely owned and operated by America long after the war, which is why the northers say Okinawa is not Japan. It would not take me long to see what they meant, and although I accept their point of view, I see much to like about them in general compared to the northern variants.

On the other hand I also noticed that there is definitely a different aura for the land and people here. Okinawa was once its own kingdom, now its nothing but permanent open wound for not one nation, but three. A theme park of suffering and sadness for the conquered and the conquerors alike. If only people could see that such wounds are all around us, in every stretch of land, etched deep within every human heart.

I met a girl in the hostel who needed help weighing her bag.

“You think this is more than 7 Kilos?” I lifted it.

“Yes.” She sighed. She was flying Jet star and they don’t play around with the weight game. I saw them running guests down in the airport to shave ½ a pound from each bag.

The girl told me about her MIT professor and a famous student he had which were in the Anarchist realm, always interesting to hear about all the different groups that are doing things their way to reach the same end. She also told me about a cool hostel on the northern end of the building she enjoyed, and since the hell pit we were in was full I booked a few days there instead. By the looks of things on Google maps there’s very little going on there, being remote as it is, but its beautiful.

I found a Star Bucks and got a jet-black tall cup with a sugar donut. Jacked, unable to stand still I set out on the town and explored the main strip front to back before landing in a Mos Burger where a soy burger and fries awaited me, anything to cut the caffeine crazies crawling through my skin.

Mom sent me a bunch of pictures from my dad who passed away from cancer in 2006, almost 20 years ago. It blows my mind that he’d been dead longer than I knew him. It’s the kind of thing that you can never understand until its already happened to you for a long time. For time is the key to the feeling. Like a spice in and of itself for experience. I wrote a little message to my father in my journal, it reads.

“Dear dad, I love you so much. I’m so grateful for all you did for me, and with me. You’re a great man. You deserved better from me. I am a strong man because of you. I’m a free man because of you. You’re in my heart, always, your son, Daniel Maddox.” I’ve never written anything like that before today, and I feel at peace with my father in ways which I never did before. I suppose it says a lot about my growth, anyone who knew me in the dark ages of youth would find even such an admittion tantamount to self-betrayal, given my hatred and anger in those days.

In truth I’ve worn a mask not of my own creation for so long that taking it off feels just the same as tearing of my own face, but I began this process long before, and just like quickly removing a band aid to avoid the slow pulling of flesh from flesh, I’ve accustomed myself to the removing of falsity from my being. To the point where now, even with all I know is still before me to learn and grow, I feel more myself than the mask I created to shield me from the world. My experiences with my father prepared me to endure any pain, both physical or mental, it is only the emotional damages which has taken me this long to address, having never developed the skills to face them before.

My life is the sum total of all other lives. Yet no lives total more than those of my parents and siblings. To you, I give thanks. For you, I live thankfully.

No Plan Japan 23 : Only Fools Rush In

View fullsize

The next morning was checkout. This is NO plan Japan, not, I have lots of hotels prebooked plan Japan, so I was rushed to make a new booking before having to checkout and though I felt it somewhere inside me, I didn’t know in that moment just how much of a mistake I had made. The owner of the place took me to the tourist center where I got the three day bus pass, which is very much worth it if you use the bus system more than 3 times going at least 10 stops each time. The buses however do not run the circumference of the island, which, because of my adventures with the monkey legions and their deer overseers among fallen trees I knew exactly why.

The new place I was to go edged that part of the island where the road became a jungle and was nearly impassable, and had reviews to match.

“Don’t expect a 7/11 or anything, it’s out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Not another building for miles.”

That kind of commentary.

Once I finally got off the bus with all my luggage, which was beginning to be a real pain, I always used to travel with nothing but a single school backpack but this time had a very large and medium size one, I humped into the forest following my GPS, which was often very inaccurate due to the phone being de-googled and thus more private. The hostel wasn’t clearly marked but by the sounds of the people inside I knew which building it was.

As I entered the man in charge asked me for my Passport, I gave it, he did a double take on me, then on my passport, then on the reservation, then back to me.

“Ohh, you’re not a women...”

“No. I’m not.” I said

“I’m sorry, but we have no room for you today. You must go.”

“Excuse me?” I said, sure it was a mistake, “But I made a reservation...”

“Yes, but not as a man, as a woman. As I said, you must go.”

“Refund?”

“No.”

“Choto Matte.” I said, meaning, wait a small moment, and I busted out my pc, since my phone had died, and looked over my reservation, sure as shit, I had accidentally chosen a female only bunk, as the female option is shown first when there is a split gender situation while using Booking.com, this was news to me, and terrible news at that.

Now the mind fucked retard inside all westerners would at this point say something about claiming to be a woman in order to remain at the hostel, I’m rather sure such a thing would not pass muster with the Japanese, and in any other circumstance I would pay to see the ensuing confrontation. This time however I was shit out of luck. I checked booking and either everything was booked or way back in town. I had to pray the man knew of another place.

“Is there another hostel nearby?”

“No. Nearest is far away.”

Far away and the bus id used to get there was the last one running that day, and a taxi would be expensive going all the way back to the docks, that was 35 miles away and night had long since fallen. Images of me humping through the jungle with monkeys trailing behind me for 5 hours came to mind, and I did not enjoy the thought one bit. I waited for the man to finish talking with his guests and approached him solemnly.

“Please sir, I need somewhere to stay. Do you have a bed, or a floor, anything I could use?” He narrowed his eyes at me as though weighing several things at once in his mind and then looked behind himself, turned back to me, looked back once more and blinked.

“You pay again?” I nodded.

“I have covid bed. Not supposed to use.” In my mind this sounded like the last thing a sane person would vigorously nod their heads to, but what was I to do?

“I’ll take it.” He nodded, took my money and lead me to the men’s dorm where there was a perfectly fine bunk bed sitting among the others. Apparently this man was either still under some restriction placed on him by the Government for the covid con job, or he really did like the idea of having less guests and thus less money, either way I took it eagerly then took a shower.

Once done with that I went to the main kitchen area where I got into a heavy and long conversation with a pair of socialist Frenchmen who simply could not come to terms with Anarchy in any way and continuously refused to accept that anyone could own anything, even themselves. It was at the tail end of this discussion that a large, powerful white man of young age entered, and we got to talking as well. He was American and very much religious; he invited me to go adventuring tomorrow, and I said it could be. Ohh and what an adventure it was!

It was then that one of the frenchman, of the non socialist variety, drew my face and gave it to me before bed, “You have the face of a revolutionary.” he told me, shook my hand, and it was time for bed…