Fear and Loathing On The Back’s of Dragons [Fiction]

Olivia said that helping Jack move into our apartment building was one of the best things we ever did. When she said it I totally agreed with her. Jack was in his 40’s, but he was 6’3” and built like a semi-truck. He was big, mean, and dumb. But, what he lacked in intelligence and common sense, he had in the delusional psychotic rampage department. If he had heroin or xanax, then usually everything was okay. But if he didn’t have heroin, he would supplement with literally anything. Coke, meth, alcohol, it didn’t matter to him. And the uppers are what brought out his crazies. I watched him stare into a fan like it was the depths of hell; then he proceeded to step back, pull up his pants as if he was going to get into a fist fight, and yell at the fan, “What’s up? Wanna go outside, motherfucker?!”

Jack and I met when I was 14. My mom had brought him home from the bar to have sex, and when she was done she sent him down to the basement [my bedroom]. I guess he asked if she could get him some weed, and she told him to ‘go downstairs and ask my son’. Of course, I did, and we smoked. Him and my mom dated for a few months, and he disappeared from my life until just a few months prior to my 21st birthday.

I fell asleep watching the sun rise. I had spent the previous day and night celebrating my 21st birthday with the usual black tar heroin and crystal meth. Selling black and clear to pay for black and clear to sell more black and clear. And so on. and so on. The same cycle that so many addicts are trapped in. In all honesty, as I watched the sun rise and did my black shot of syrup, I was more or less content.

I had been sleeping for a long time, because it was pitch black outside. Somebody was knocking on the door of my apartment, in a succession of three’s, over and over and over and over and over again. Hardly able to open one eye, I asked Olivia to get it, since she was already up. With the door open, the hallway light sent a monolith into my crypt that illuminated the world that I hated, and Olivia was engulfed in Jack’s massive shadow. I hear him on the phone, “yeah… yeah… I’m walking into his apartment now… Yeah… I know, I’m sorry.”

I asked him what in the fuck he was doing and why the fuck he was there; but he just shoved his phone into my face and said it was my mother. Awestruck, I rubbed my eyes and held the flip phone to my face with my shoulder while I hit the foil a couple of times. ‘Bitch, I don’t give a fuck. I’m sick. You’re waiting.’ I could hear my mother on the other end, sniffling. ‘It must be cold out there.’

My mother and I hadn’t talked since I left my bride at the altar, almost 3 years earlier. It had been even longer than that since Jack and her had spoken. But what really struck a chord in me was, ‘how in the fuck did she know that Jack and I were living in the same building?’

“Hello,” she said, “Are you there?” She said my name, and I confirmed my presence.

“Your father,” she started to sob, “he killed himself. He’s dead.”

I was stunned. The only thing that I could muster up to say was, “you’re kidding,” but I knew she wasn’t. Why would my mother joke about something so horrid? She wouldn’t. She didn’t. He did.

For a moment I was speechless, so I just asked what happened. She didn’t know, but she didn’t want to tell me that. She had confidence in her answer, but I knew she was lying. I always knew. She had been trying to get ahold of me all day. It happened on my birthday, but my mom didn’t want to ruin my birthday; as if every birthday for the rest of my life won’t be tainted by my father’s death.

I swallowed that painful and bulky bag of dick’s; and the heartache slowly slithered its way down my throat. I flipped Jack’s phone shut while my mom was mid-sentence. A lack of boundaries promotes a lack of respect. I shoved Jack’s phone into his chest and bitched him out for waking me up. I suppose I was probably in shock; isn’t that what “they” say?

Once the apartment was finally quiet, I grabbed my “Stab-Bag” with my rigs, cooker, and cottons; and began making breakfast. Or dinner. I didn’t care. Slowly, almost methodically, I loaded my cooker. A part of me just wanted to stew in my misery. I knew the second I pushed the plunger, I would be completely unable to feel anything. After a few minutes of silence, Olivia’s voice became audible from the corner with the bed. “Are you ok?” she asked. I ignored her. I knew it wasn’t her fault, and she just wanted me to be ok, but I wasn’t ok, and telling her that would only spread my misery.

I never was one of those people who wanted company to wallow with me. I guess it’s just the ‘Altruist’ inside of me, but spreading misery never made me happy. I guess that’s why I was never a very good thief.

My shot was finally done. Once the Stab Bag was in my hand, i would just go into auto-pilot; and I just-so-happened to make a shot that would put down a Rhino. Olivia stood up and walked over to me once she realized that I was stalling. The moment she saw the load, she got all crazy. She didn’t shoot up heroin, so it’s not like she had any idea what she was talking about; which I dutifully informed her, in harsher words than I should have. ‘No one is a “stupid gutter-punk cunt” just because they don’t want the person they love to die.’

Something that still bothers me to this day is how little my father truly knew me. ‘Hell, the last time I saw him, I didn’t even know me.’ The only thing I wanted to do before my Rhino Load was find the last picture my Dad and I had taken together. It was taken when I was 18; and getting married to Alison Burke; the country girl who had my daughter.

Alison was the first girl that I met after my mom and I finally moved out of the City. My mom wanted to move out to the country to be closer to my Grandmother (and to avoid paying a Painkiller debt that she owed to some El Salvadoran’s) and after my aunt ended up dismembered on the side of the road, we knew it was time to go. So my mom and I took my cousin, who was two, and headed for the hills.

My great-uncle hired me and spent the summer teaching me painting stucco. Needless to say, I looked good. I had been off drugs (meth and pills, mostly) for about 4 months, I was in great shape; and in the country I stuck out like, “buck-teeth on a Brit”. On the incredibly hot late-September day I met Alison, one could say that the universe was shuffling around the cards; and no one knew it. specially for my ‘too-cocky to be insecure’ ass.

Uncle Pat and I had been hired to do the stucco on my cousin Marilyn’s nail salon. Pat and I were getting ready to wrap up a three-day job on the first day, so I was in a ‘wife-beater’ and bronze as a Greek God. Seemingly out of nowhere, Pat whistles real loud and tells me to come here. He was sitting on his open tailgate talking to two young ladies, who were pretty obviously sisters. Slightly startled to catch my 58-year-old uncle, who’s been married longer than I’ve been alive, giggling with these two young ladies, and whispering in their ear’s and then giggling and giggling and giggling.

“This is my Nephew, the urban one,” ‘Pat said. Fuck, he really just introduced me as his hood-rat nephew.’

“Just because I know people who aren’t white,” I said as I shook their hand’s and glared at Pat. The pretty one was Alison, and her fatter, louder, dumber sister was Dana. The three of us sat in front of the nail salon, talking in Alison’s car, for 5 hours. After that, the only thing would end tearing us apart would be my drug use.

At that time, I was really struggling; trying to find the man who I was meant to become. Ali saw that. She also could see the man that I was trying to become; at times even better than I could. In my mind, she represented me going from a child to a man. I tried so hard, because I thought that her mold for me was what I wanted, or needed.

She got pregnant 2 months after our 1 year anniversary; and we were all excited.

I had so many strange experiences that I thought I would never have; especially growing up as an ‘inner-city white kid’. I would never say that they were prejudice towards me, because honestly they were some of the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life. But the fact that I wore baggy pants, and 3X Tall Tees, and said, “wassup” instead of “good morning” made it obvious to everyone around me that we were different. I suppose that’s what I wanted. I deemed it necessary to put a sign on my back that said, ‘You are Type A; I am Type B. We are not the same. We never will be.”

I tried my best to hide my emotion as I asked for Olivia’s phone. My phone was a burner and didn’t have the internet; and the picture I needed was on Facebook. Olivia asked, “What for, beau?” Once again, I failed to hide my feelings by projecting anger and frustration at literally nothing.

I turned around and slammed my left fist into a closet door. The pain in my hand took my mind off of everything else for a sweet solitary second, and the primal desire to destroy something that someone else built crept up. Slowly at first; but it rapidly boiled over, giving me the jarring feeling of drowning.

After three or four good punches, I stood heaving in my underwear amidst small and medium-sized woodchips, and a linen closet without a door. All of the sudden, through my adrenaline rush, I began to feel so light-headed that I immediately got tunnel-vision with spots; and my head, neck and limbs felt like they weighed a half ton. Olivia, who was quietly crying on the bed in the corner, jumped up. The last thing I remember is her calling my name from across the room. She said later that I head butted the floor so hard that it knocked my favorite framed painting I did of HP Lovecraft off the wall.

Regaining consciousness several moments later was a hazy, painful circus of ringing ears and sad snotty sobs. Olivia just held my head like a football while i sobbed phlegm and tears all over the graffitti-covered jeans she was wearing. I suddenly had a moment of genuine clarity~ when I realized my Rhino Load was behind my ear. ‘Pull your self together, bitch-boy.’

“Can I please just see your phone?” I begged. Olivia jumped up and was back with her phone in seconds. As she handed me her phone, I looked up at her; and with my eyes still teary and my voice still weak, I asked her as nice as possible, “Baby; can I please hit your foil?”


The Garden of Eden: A 5ev3nth 7ett3r Interpretation


The story of Adam and Eve is an extremely interesting tale, with extremely deep-rooted symbolism. Now, this is one of my personal favorites from the bible, because it can be interpreted two different ways; esotericly or exotericaly. Both of these interpretations have drastically different meanings. Of course, this is because one is meant for priests (or the “inner circle”) and one is meant for the masses (or the one’s they are attempting to manipulate and thus drain energetically).


The meaning for the masses is the one that we all hear, know, and “love”. This puts Adam (or Mankind) in the position of servant, or tiller of the land. A tool for “God” to use as he pleases. It also puts an incredible amount of fault on the woman, thus instituting and rationalizing the Patriarchy that has plagued humanity for the last 2000+ years. Not to mention the strange dynamic that “God” created between the offspring of Humanity and the offspring of the Serpent.

“12 The man said, “The woman whom you gave me, she gave me some fruit from the tree and I ate it.” 13 So the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this you have done?” And the woman replied, “The serpent tricked me, and I ate.”14 The Lord God said to the serpent, “Because you have done this, cursed are you above all the wild beasts and all the living creatures of the field! On your belly you will crawl and dust you will eat all the days of your life.
15 And I will put hostility between you and the woman and between your offspring and her offspring; her offspring will attack your head, and you will attack her offspring’s heel.”

Genesis Chapter 3 Verse 12-15   New American Translation

This was used in an especially grotesque manner by Catholicism, causing the mostly illiterate peasants of the Dark Ages an incredible amount of fear, “…because the Devil and his offspring (demons and witches and such) were around every blind corner, just waiting to drag you into the fiery pits of hell.” Even to this day, Christian Evangelicals will use these strange, and most of the time vague, passages to make people think that there is something more out there besides YOU; when there absolutely isn’t.

Another terrible thing this idea does is advocate the incredible amount of guilt that Christianity and Catholicism (& Judaism) attempts to put on it followers. The entire idea of humanity being “born in sin” is not only absolutely ridiculous, but its an unbelievably irresponsible idea to spread among people. I think that a lot of people forget that a person is generally smart, logical, and fairly “even-minded”; but people on the other hand are dumb, irrational, and for some reason or another herd-minded. Hence the term, “Sheeple”.

“17 But to Adam he said, “Because you obeyed your wife and ate from the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You must not eat from it,’ cursed is the ground thanks to you; in painful toil you will eat of it all the days of your life.
18 It will produce thorns and thistles for you, but you will eat the grain of the field.
19 By the sweat of your brow you will eat food until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you will return.”

Genesis Chapter 3 Verse 17-19 New American Translation


It has taken me more than 3 years to get to a place where I feel comfortable writing this; especially because of this part. When doing this analysis, I found “The Complete Jewish Translation” the most helpful. I’m almost positive that it is a direct translation from the Hebrew, instead of it being a translation of a translation of a translation and so on…

One thing that I found interesting initially was the impression that I got about “Adonai Elohim” (AE) and his purpose for making the Garden. AE made Adam from dust of the earth, and then, “breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, so that he became a living being.” Then AE created a “garden in the East” where he put the man he made. When reading it, I intuitively got the impression that AE was creating the plants and trees and grass etc. for Adam. It seemed to me that Eden was a place of training, (for lack of a better term).

“7 Then Adonai, God, formed a person [a] from the dust of the ground [b] and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, so that he became a living being. 8 Adonai, God, planted a garden toward the east, in ‘Eden, and there he put the person whom he had formed. 9 Out of the ground Adonai, God, caused to grow every tree pleasing in appearance and good for food, including the tree of life in the middle of the garden and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.”

Genesis Chapter 2 Verse 7-9 N




The “Holistic Order of the Seventh Letter” is a community of like-minded individuals whose common goal of finding the truth of the reality that we all live in has brought them together. The Oxford dictionary defines ‘holistic’ as, “Characterized by the belief that the parts of something are intimately interconnected and explicable only by reference to the whole.” And the seventh letter of the alphabet is G. When asked about the name’s meaning, the source simply said, “God”. But instead of the typical template that most “religious/spiritual/occult groups” adopt, the OSLS [ORDO SANCTI LITTERAE SEPTIMA] has used an understanding given by the “Law of One” of the energetic exchange known as teach/learning. Although I have read the Law of One series on several different occasions; which, from what I’ve been able to gather, is what the OSLS’s main principles are based on, I was still unable to ascertain where the ‘holistic’ part came into play. Colleagues of mine that listened to the preliminary interview speculated that maybe it had something to do with unifying the world’s religions, or maybe it was a reference to consolidating the conscious and unconscious, or the diversity of the membership.

When I brought these things up to him in official the interview, he just laughed and said, “any one of those things could be true at any one time. It simply depends on who you talk to.” Although all of the members are sworn to secrecy by spiritually binding blood-oaths; the order doesn’t have any “punishments” for breaking of the oath. “We were originally were going to make the member’s sign Non-disclosure Agreements,” said my source as he lightly chuckled. But in the end they decided that the “karmic consequences”, as he put it, would be dire enough. “The thing about it is,” he continued, “karmic consequences aren’t limited to this world.” Or this lifetime…

Nearly everything about the Order is secret, so when I asked the source why he had reached out to me, he said, “The only way that the Order can continue on the chosen path is if the collective conscience begins to include the OSLS in their lexicon.” When I asked him to clarify, he said that he was unable to do so. Basically, he said that the meaning of it will come to those who need it, without any explanation necessary. That was the answer I got almost every time I asked a question. There was only one question that I asked that was actually answered; who are you trying to reach with this? His answer was very different from what I had expected. The source claimed that his intention was not to reach anybody, but the people who it was meant for will receive it. No matter how small that number may be, it is as it should be, “and it couldn’t be another way.”

Because I don’t want to try to paraphrase what was told to me, [half out of respect, and half because I could only follow about half of it]:

“The Ordo Sancti Litterae Septima’s system is much simpler than the majority of spiritual systems, mostly because its goal is not membership or control. I am not at liberty to discuss the details of the system, but what I can say is the effects of the system. The system accomplishes these main things:

1. It grants the Initiate the Understanding and Wisdom of God. (Gnosis)

2. It grants the Initiate the Knowledge of the Mind/Body/Spirit Complex.

3. It shows the Initiate the True and Genuine Path of the Soul.

“The traits generally found in an adept with the OSLS in their path is intelligence and clarity of mind. Now, when I say intelligence, I mean holistic intelligence. This is for dedicated, disciplined, and more than anything studious individuals; or at the very least they need to be willing to begin the process of becoming that person. I do not want to answer personal questions , but I will say this; that’s what this whole process has been about for me. Becoming the person that I was meant to be. More than anything else, the Order took the hole in my soul where Hope used to be, and filled with Understanding and Wisdom; thus giving me the tools to manifest my truest potential in its purest form.

“The person that this is NOT for is the person that’s comfortable, happy, or content with the state of the world and the state of their life. The fat, lazy prick with Doritos cheese crusted on his fingers and more confidence in his ignorance than brain cells in his head is going to be respectfully declined.”

[I don’t even think the “fat lazy prick” would be able to figure out how to say ‘ORDO SANCTI LITTERAE SEPTIMA’; let alone make any attempts to join it.]

When I asked about how a person who go about joining, he said, “One doesn’t ‘join’; they chose they’re path long before this carnation. That’s the thing; the OSLS isn’t the beginning of a path, it is simply part of it.” The biggest thing that stuck out to me was the fact that an Initiate could live anywhere. Although he couldn’t tell me anything about the Lodges, including where they were located and how many there were.

All and all, my conversation with the man who called himself “Domestic Dissident” in his initial e-mail to me was nothing short of pleasant. He was never anything less than completely respectful, and he was one of the most intelligent and articulate people I’ve had the pleasure of talking to. Once off the record, we talked for over an hour, about things from Zoroastrianism to the flora and fauna of the Peloponnesian Islands. I hope to some day meet ‘Mr. Dissident’ face to face; and something tells me that I haven’t heard the last of the “Holistic Order of the Seventh Letter”. I am so incredibly grateful and humbled to be the person to present these Ideas to the world.

Side Note: I was given this Email Address to include in the article for those that are interested in Initiation


My Shift into Revolution

For an incredible amount of time, i have have been aware of the interconnectedness of all things, and studying this fact has shown me that there is everything has a purpose and everything happens for a reason. With my new “identity” as Dj D1SSID3NT, i am attempting to grow into the revolutionary mindstate that i was always meant for, and i am going to do what i was meant to do.

If its a Martyr im supposed to be, then thats what ill be. Whether its a leader, a thinker, a writer, or a musician; no matter what my role is, i am going to put my everything into it.

The Parable of the Merchant and his Bird

In India, there was a wealthy merchant. After taking over the business from his father while he was still in his early twenties, the business began to flourish. As the man got older, he realized that a wife would only try to take the empire that his family had worked so hard to build and on his 33rd birthday, he took a vow of celibacy.

After many years of trading all over the world, the Merchant began to get very lonely. Every person that he interacted with either feared his wealth and status, or wanted to use his wealth and status for some sort of personal agenda. The Merchant desperately wanted to be treated as an equal; to have a conversation with a peer.

While trading with some African Natives, the Merchant began talking to a very old and very wise African Shaman. The Shaman took the Merchant back to his village where he treated the merchant to a feast and wine. For many hours the Merchant drank and ate.

At the end of the night, the shaman brought the merchant in real close and said, “I have a solution for your terrible loneliness. Take my pet bird. I have granted it the power to speak.” Amazed, the merchant did as he was told.

Over the course of the next few months the merchant and his bird became the very best of friends. They would stay up all hours of the night talking, the merchant would get the birds advice on various business dealings, and the merchant was finally fulfilled.

Before his next trip to Africa, the merchant asked the bird, “Is there anything you would like me to tell your friends and family?”

“Why, yes,” the bird replied. “Please tell them that I’ve never been happier in my cage.”

The merchant repeated the message to the birds in Africa, and one bird suddenly went stiff as a board, eyes wide and filled with tears. Then suddenly the bird fell from tree to ground, apparently lifeless. Feeling horrible, the merchant returned to his dear friend and relayed his experience. All of the sudden the bird went stiff and wide-eyed, just like his counterpart. The bird fell to the bottom of his cage, seemingly dead.

With tears in his eyes, the merchant picked up his deceased friend and took him outside. The second his set the bird on the ground, the bird suddenly sprung to life and flew up into a tree, out of the reach of the merchant.

“Oh!” the merchant yelled in shock. “What is the meaning of all of this?” he shouted at the frustrating realization that he had just been played.

“Listen close,” the bird said. “In order to be free from your cage, you must learn to die during your life.”

The Life of a Loner



All of my life i have felt like I was outside looking in; no matter what the situation. I have always been into loyalty and serving something bigger than oneself, but I have never had anything to put my all into. I have always been a loner. Not by choice. But for some reason I have always felt like an outsider looking in. There was always some reason why I wasn’t “one of the boys”. I have so much in me to give to something, but I still have yet to find my group.

My whole life I have been a leader. Im not sure if my intelligence is what makes it that way, but when you are the smartest person in the room, most people look to you to answer the questions. I wanted to join the military, before i knew what t was about. I wanted to be a cop, until I found out what it was about. Hell, I even wanted to be a gangbanger at one time in my life. For a long time I thought my place was in Hiphop, but now I dont even know if that is true. As good of a rapper as I was, I still dont know if that was the way I was meant to express myself. I know that I am supposed to be a teacher and a mentor, but how can I do that if I cant even find my mentor or teacher.

I have a soldier in me. I always have. I have so much passion in me, and the last thing in the world I want to do is express it in a violent way, but I know that it is in there. And wouldn’t the right thing to do be to apply it to something that I believe in? I have the soul of a revolutionary, especially when I look around and see the way the world works. I dont know.

Something that just occurred to me; maybe my purpose is to find a way to honestly express my purpose. I’m starting to think that the way I do it is irrelevant. Bruce Lee talks about the difficulty of expressing oneself honestly, and that really resonated with me. I think that is what has kept me out of the “groups” and “cliques” that I wanted to participate in, the fact that involving myself in those things wouldn’t have been me expressing myself honestly. I dont have negative feelings, or regrets; just understanding. Thanks to these experiences.

This is a song I made with my previous “Rap Identity”

Fortunately, this side of me has been balanced. So I’m still looking for my place in Hiphop.