Category: Frank’s writings (Page 1 of 5)

Re: A NEW [SECOND] CHANNEL COMING TO LUVER! (Paul)

Hi Frankie THE ONLY sex God,

Okay, cool.
Thank you for the information.
Just keep me informed as to how and when you would like payment.
I’ve both lent and given copies of ‘Art of a Shaman’ to many different people throughout the years. Remember, I purchased quite a few copies back in the early 90s…..
Those copies that I’ve lent never seem to return.
Nope, I’m incorrect…actually, one of them returned years later.
Looking forward to seeing the new edition!! 🙂
Hope all is well.
Heaps of hugs to everyone,
xo Paul

* * * * *

ah, yes, I used ART OF A SHAMAN, among other things, last night in a three hour session. It is good as a overview of the history and philosophy of my work, although it stops over twenty years ago. A lot has changed /happened since then.

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

Re: A NEW [SECOND] CHANNEL COMING TO LUVER!

Happy New Year!

Sign me up for two autographed copies of the hardcover edition of “Art of a Shaman”.
One will be as a gift for a friend.
Hope everyone is well.
xo Paul

* * * * *

sure, Paul! We are just finishing putting it together. We don’t even know how much a copy will cost exactly. And autographed copy will require it to be shipped to me to sign and then we will mail it to you rather than the printer shipping it directly to you [extra cost]. BUT YOUR ONLY SEX GOD WILL AUTOGRAPH AS MANY COPIES AS YOU WANT!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

THE FINAL CHAPTER [MAYBE!] OF MY NOVEL

WELL I AM BACK… sort of. The since you and I shared a word together many months ago I almost dead. I have not even printed the last chapter out yet.

I went to the hospital. Macho risking getting hurt! Failing getting lost all consciousness for thirty years without oxygen! We want it send to hell! Personally I always find a lot of places for getting me ashore. I laughed! But I was murdered when they moved us to keep us apart! Getting frustrated that drains possibilities away from the hospital with pneumonia, almost dying. Michael and Linda always were there for /with your truelove me twenty-four hours care. So I survived! But parts keep coming off of my whiners! The real deep power influence of tribal body just seems more practical than isolation, separation and fascism.

Well, should we end this now? We have not gotten stupid together for a long long time, mate. Practically speaking thus, I don’t know what is happening within skins trash to pull up stakes and come to the end of this piece of fresh meat. After sedation has cut off all this shit, verbal jazz, rifting in the cards unshuffled. So uncomfortable! But is this too short, toothless old cicerone mumble in broken English to be a novel? Was it just a shaggy dog self-serving story about me? Just coming up with another rapper Phat boy. I have jammed with you. But can we just say Good-by? Adore our campaign together and walk away? Strangely enough none of this unwritten logger’s law has cut off Kerfoot’s left hand. Is fifty-two Pages enough for a novel? Anyway I could pad it by double space, wide margins, and large tiger-sharks font. Easy street! So can you live without reading this? Well, I have not been writing in this journey for a long time, mate. But you have been reading this over and over again. Tide stranded you! Live without this shit, verbal jazz.. The end of this face saying, asking around, everything bad habits prevailed everywhere everyday with you. Timeworn words stay tuned like challenges. See you next time!

THE END

FINISHED
MAYBE!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

news about “L’idéaliste”

Hey Frank,

It’s Rafael.

Listen, I’m up 50 percent on the track ! 😛

This means the basses, drums, guitars and most of keyboards/fx are done, mixed and mastered.

I entering the voice samples soon : have been lately splicing Linda’s voice into separate words out of your 08 campain positions on the issues you debated for presidential elections ; I’ll be using a trigger finger to put some rythm into some passages 🙂

Never the less, and although it will be solely different from my old piece in the sens that phrases will be almost completely turned upside down, I thought of introducing some radio samples I got refering to the past century’s greatest scandals, political speeches, events, personalities and so on.

In some journalistic way, and this is what “L’idéaliste” is about finally, could you tell what where your’s ?

I mean, which greatest speeches have you heard since the mid 50’s or have you heard dating since 1890 ? What scandals have you heard of you fought for justice against ? What personalities gave you a string impression ? What major catastrophic event can you recall from conscience up to now ?

I’d be glad to hear about you on this Frank, remember, I don’t wan’t to build a statue of gold, but to compose a audio “painting” of your political side, starting when it started for you, as a river streaming through time 🙂

Glad to see your fully active again 🙂

Rafael

* * * * *

great, Rafael!
Well,

My personal roots are in the idealism of the 60’s. That was when I broke out of personal physical isolation. I looked for a way to bring about the ideals for me and for society as a whole. The normal channels obviously would not work for me.

So all I had were my fantasies. I read novels like The Magus and Steppenwolf. I started wanting to create other alternative/altered realities just like the magicians in those novels. I read the Beat writers and the French Surrealists, Lenny Bruce and Mort Sahl and Abbie Hofmann, listened to Dylan, watched the hippie movement grow. I wished I could be a hip artist living in San Francisco instead of being stuck outside San Bernardino reading, listening, watching, waiting. All of this brewed inside of me.

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

this is the rather long interview

I just did for the Russian magazine HOOLIGAN:

well, actually while reading the Art of Shaman I realized, that you have written it for the guys like me not to annoy you. I mean, it’s concrete and literal, solving most of future questions. so, hope you don’t mind if there could be some questions asked, that you consider to be answered back in 1990.

1. how do you manage writing those words right now? how you invented that typing machine?

I type on a computer with a head pointer. Recently I added a word prediction software which has cut my keystrokes by seventy percent.

But I thought of the head pointer when I was seventeen. But it took me a year to get THEM to try it. They wanted me to type with my fingers, the NORMAL ACCEPTABLE WAY! I never care about being “normal.” I am practical, going for what works. So when they finally tried my idea, I was typing within five minutes! They wished they didn’t try it because I started writing radical political stuff like a political column for the high school newspaper in which I blasted the Vietnam War… About a year before it became fashionable to do so. This didn’t fit their role for me as a poster child for the disabled! When they sat me down to tell me that, I said I thought the goal was to get equal rights for the disabled [and for everybody], and one of those rights was being political! So!

2. tell me about God – did Reed tell you, why we suffer? shell we all suffer? I mean, you case is not the ultimate in the deplorable list – you know it, at least you donot suffer pain all the time. and you can see, and you areabsolutely sane… why God made us suffer?

Funny in the mid- seventies, we set up a church. In this country, the tax agency decides what gets given the church status. They denied us because they said we didn’t believe in God [= a supreme being]. So we got free civil liberties lawyers and fought, using Reed as evidence. We said we saw the relationship among everybody and everything as the ultimate being, parts of which are within each one of us. We won!

Most suffering is man-made. It doesn’t have to exist. Suffering is different than struggling. Struggling is a part of life. It makes you strong and healthy. It changes things. Suffering doesn’t do these things. Risk, failure, getting “hurt” are all parts of growth. Suffering is added on to us to keep us down, in control.

Since you asked, this is from my book, CHEROTIC MAGIC:

Matter is symbol, is metaphor containing possibilities. These packets shape matter. These packets, in turn, are reshaped by each body or object they pass through. This is why we are affected by the stars, for example, (and the stars are affected by us)…and why we affect the Tarot cards or the I‑Ching coins we cast…why the physicists affect the subatomic particles they observe. This is the alchemical secret: by reshaping these inner packets, the material reality is reshaped.

These inner rivers of possibilities are two‑way on the linear level. This means the magical effects are always two‑way. The light of the sun warms us; but we affect the sun through the same channel. Again, we have entered the level of the dynamic web of relationships in which the individual does not exist. In place of the individual, there appear points of personal responsibility in a dance. It is not the sun that warms, nor is it us who are warmed. It is the dance of no dancers, the dance of relationships that warms, and that is warmed. Individualism hides this fundamental truth from most people.

These rivers of inner possibilities do not run only in a two‑way linear manner. They also travel nonlinearly. This creates a deep ocean under time‑space. In this ocean, there are nonlinear waves of possibility which pass through the points of personal responsibility which most people mistakenly see as individuality. When a wave passes through this, it is possible to personally amplify, mute, or change the wave. This makes the point of personal responsibility the moment of the universal creation. To accept this responsibility of the universal creation, we cannot step back from the ocean to claim the responsibility or judge.

We are then just water drops … individual water drops, not the ocean. To be in the moment of universal creation, in being the point of personal responsibility, we need to melt into being the ocean for all time, letting the dance happen through us, not thinking we are the dancers. In this point of personal responsibility, everything we do, think, and say is universally important, and not in the individually important sense.

Each center of the body is connected to many of the rivers of possibility. The nonlinear flow of the packets of possibilities within these rivers is chero. By transforming, transmuting, the packets of possibilities, it is actually possible to change matter, to change the material world. This alchemical fact is just the opening for the more important fact that reality is created, recreated every second by and within us.

We have said reality creation is a dance and that we are the dancers. But in truth, it is a dance without dancers. If we really take on personal responsibility for the dance, we surrender to the dance, give up individual “control,” give up individual linking with the results. By taking on the personal responsibility for the dance, we are the dance. We melt with the dance. We are only the dance. We admit these facts. It is not a question of becoming, but of remembering and admitting. It is a question of being, living, dancing lustfully, without controls or limits in responsibility. In the apprenticeship, this quality is called “extensic”. The extensic life dance is beyond morals or limits. It joyfully digs into the dance to the juicy black core.

We have talked about the principle of inter‑penetration, the spiritual fact that the universal existence is enclosed in everyone and in everything.

To start to grasp this, we have to remember that the cherotic rivers flowing within matter run in a great many directions, both linearly and nonlinearly, both inward and outward. This the web dance. The cherotic packets of possibilities, effectively changed within the person, are taken by these rivers throughout the entire web, affecting the entire web.

So you are never hopeless or without effect. You can always shift reality away from doubts, fears, and other mistaken creations. You can always transform, transmute yourself, situations and the universal currents into joyful dancing by extensic melting, which is the heart secret of using erour.

Kinds of transmuting and transforming of situations and of self is the real purpose of alchemical art. You are not the source of effect, the dance of the web is. You melt forever with the dance within personal responsibility. The effect is caused by the everlasting interplay, inner dance, of the whole web of all possibilities with one another, creating seven dimension waves. You must enjoy the dance for its own sake, not some goal as an end. There is not end to the dance. Since the dance is everlasting, the holding‑on to any guilt, any doubt, any fear is just creating these things in the whole web, for which you are personally responsible. If you let go of these limited frames, your personal responsibility for them will vanish; moreover, their reality force will fade to a certain degree in the web.

When you admit you are melted into the dance, that you are the dance, and that every act and nonact, no matter how “small,” is profound, then reality shifts. The focus shifts from what you do, what you appear to be like, what effect you are having…shifts to enjoying extensically life, claiming any and all responsible act or thought as your own no matter who does it.

Matter is a symbol containing within it packets of possibilities. Chero is the possibilities. The human body‑personality is a symbolic system containing possibilities. It is a symbol containing chero flowing nonlinearly through it, breathing through it. The human body‑personality is a point of creative multi‑universal responsibility because it contains self‑awareness. The “self” in this self‑awareness is not the individual ego, but the self of the web of ultimate reality of all possibilities. This self‑awareness is only beginning to evolve out from the web. This means the on‑going act of multi‑universal creation has just started. This creation depends on the self‑awareness which is flowing through each one of us.

Modern physics tells us that our universe is sitting on the razor’s edge between existence and non‑existence, leaning slightly on the side of existence. The self‑awareness is the slight edge of existence. It is creating existence. This creating is radiating both linearly and nonlinearly from the point of responsibility which is contained within each of us.

Our point of entry into this on‑going dance of magical creation is our body‑personality in everyday living, everyday relating.

We think our body is contained, enclosed, limited within our skin. In reality, the skin is not the borderline marking the difference between inside and outside, marking off what the individual (or any other object) is. As we have seen, there is an energy field of thoughts, emotions, and other psychic material. This field usually comes out a quarter of an inch from the skin. This field is as much a part of the body as anything within the skin. The skin is the eighth center of the body, the center of relating, of touch, of melting. It is the center which connects the first and the seventh centers together, creating a circle out of the horizontal linear order.

The skin is not a fence of individualistic ego. Instead, it is the connecting organ of the body, our body. This body does not end at the skin. This body, our body, extends both outward and inward throughout the multi‑dimensional, multi‑universal existence which is being created by self‑awareness. What we normally think of as our body is in reality only a small part of our body. It is only a symbol of personal responsibility which lives within us creating. We are now entering the secret of inter‑penetration.

When we look at our body within the physical world, we can easily become aware of physical trails. At least they at first appear to be trails we leave just as the snail leaves a shining trail as it travels along the sidewalk. After we begin to recognize the existence of such trails, we begin to quickly see more and more of these trails. Body smells, dead skin falling or rubbing off the body, fingerprints, sweat, shit and piss are just some of the most obvious of these trails. There are many hundreds of these trails, mostly unknown to modern man. Each of these trails has volumes of information and possibilities about us and about our connection to the web of existence. In fact, each of our trails contains us. The scientist can clone a body copy from a single cell. A cat can read the emotional state of another animal by the smell of the piss left hours before. Everything leaves these traces of its existence in the reality. Our homes are filled with these traces of ours, which is why our homes have feelings of us, smells of us.

These trails are really meltings between our body and rest of the web of ultimate reality. These meltings are the breathing of chero, the blood veins of chero running both linearly and nonlinearly throughout the entire reality web. This implies that the whole web of ultimate reality is one living organism which extends beyond time and space. What is usually thought of as the individual’s ego/personality/being is a connection in relationships of responsibility, of creation, and of change.

When reality is seen in this way, what looked like trails of individuals left behind within space and time become channels of cherotic breath and cherotic blood of possibilities. These channels are physical, although not necessarily material. We have just listed some of the more obvious material trails. But thoughts are physical trails too. These thought trails, these melting webbings, are made of many, many different kinds of conducting materials, such as chemical, electrical, vibrational, and many materials that we have not yet either discovered or connected to thought. Thought is focused in the sixth body center, that of wisdom.

Most people think that the thoughts in their heads are their own, coming from their own being…exceptions being strange occurrences of visions, possessions, and other “psychic” events. But thoughts are not our own. They are nonlinear veins of cherotic possibilities running through us. Here I am just using thought as an example of how the webbings work. What is contained is a nonlinear wave of cherotic possibility which has been affected by every mind body it has passed through. When the thought first enters your mind body, it is not your thought. It is in the air. You will always and forever make so‑called mistakes. Will always and forever have contractions. These are a part of the magical process that is life. These could be seen as sufferings, hurts, pains. But as parts of the magical life process, the heavy negativity slips away from them, and they become a rugged mountain path to be lustfully, extensically traveled. Any guilt or pity detours us from the compassionate and passionate life.

The true trusting person trusts life and extensically acts from that trust. He does not ask for proofs of worthiness of trust, no trials or tests for earning of trust. He trusts because that opens the door to all possibilities. When you trust into life, you are fully trusting yourself. When you freely trust others, you open the total freedom for both yourself and others. When the student in apprenticeship lets his trust for the teacher slip, what he is really doing is not trusting himself, not trusting his ability, his courage, his humor. Understand, the teacher is a projection of the student’s soul into the field of objectivity. The student and the teacher are melting halves of a whole which we will call “deep love” or “erour love”. When the student thinks of himself as just a student, just a disciple ‑‑ as if there could be any greater calling ‑‑ he has lost sight of his trust in not only the teacher and himself, but also in life. This is a common detour into fragile fragmentation, fatal only if the student stays too long in this quicksand pool, or returns to it too often.

The function of the shamans is to take in life‑denials from the universe, transform them into life‑affirmations, then project these life‑affirmations into the web of ultimate reality by actively living these life‑affirmations. This is what being responsible really means. This is real magic, real alchemy, real creativity. It is the cherotic breath. It is the dance without dancers. We as shamans admit that we are not individualistic egos or sources. Instead, we admit we are points of responsibility. This admitting creates a zone around us. Within this zone, life‑affirmations are created out of the life‑denials which have entered the zone. These now life‑affirmations then either combine with older life‑affirmations, creating more richly complex life‑affirming realities, or are projected outward from the zone to be a part of the decaying, rubbing dance with life‑denials. This is very similar to the process of the green plants transforming carbon dioxide into oxygen.

This process is without end. This endless process is magical life. The person who is waiting, wishing, for the end of life‑denials does not understand what life and magic are. At best, she can only put up with life, making do with an unsatisfactory situation. She usually gets overwhelmed and becomes wrapped up in layers of life‑denials which create more life‑denials.

The basic secret of magic is to like life, to love life, to throw yourself into life so completely, so extensically that you lose yourself as a source in the individualistic sense. You become a point in a wave. In this deep love of life, life‑denials are seen as what they really are. They are the building‑blocks of life‑affirmations. The process of transformation of life‑denials into life‑affirmations cannot be done in the Maya of the isolation of individual self. This transformation can only occur within relationships outside of self, within the real whole body of the web. This is why the lusty giving up of self into deep love is so important in order for magic to happen. Awareness is tribal, not individual. To understand this, the student should see the web of reality as one body, one tribe, one organism that is creating itself always.

We will explore what deep love is very extensively in the following book because in deep love we have the very heart of magic. But it is useful to summarize the physical process of the dynamic interplay of reality in our body‑personality.

All chero, which is packets of possibilities, affects you and is affected by you as it passes through your body. These effects shape the waves of change. When light (photons) enters your eye, when sound vibrations hit your eardrum, when air enters your body, they are changed by your body. They are then reflected back both outward and inward into the web of reality. This is also true of thoughts and emotions which are different forms of packets of possibilities.

If you look for sources of these waves, either within yourself or in others, you will be missing the true reality…you will be spinning your wheels. But if you realize that you are a part of a nonlinear system of living change, of universal creation, you will begin to grasp how to be a shaman. By doing what is right in any and all situations, it releases a creative change, not within you, but rather in the relationship between you and a magical other.

This is the root of the student‑teacher relationship. When we talk about doing the right thing, about being responsible, we are not talking about what is considered moral or comfortable in the normal social frame of reality. Such morals are a system of checks that keep most people inside this social frame. The function of the shaman takes us far outside the social frame. So the right thing in the normal social frame may look and/or feel immoral, may look/feel impossible or overwhelming. This can be overcome by admitting you are connected on every level to the web of ultimate reality, connected by personal relationships to the people around (in the apprenticeship, to the teacher and other students). In this way, you are not limited to ego‑power, but are linked to the unlimited force of the web. By projecting the creative change outside yourself within the context of the magical other, you will not be sidetracked by thinking you are the source, that you are doing something. This melts you into erour, into the dance of no dancers, into the magical realm of poetry.

Poetry is a metaphor that explodes normal reality by using things within that normal reality, using normal things, such as words, in non‑normal or super‑normal ways. The apprenticeship is living poetry. The key is the erour love/trust. Erour love/trust is extensic love/trust which has no subject. It is a love/trust of life, of yourself, of the teacher, or others, all in one. This is an act of will and faith. This is the deep love/trust that admits to joy and unity.

3. your posititon is really anti-human on my point of view. I mean, most of people involved in 60ies – they where absolutely anthropocentric in their view – like the cult of body, living in the wild – the position of human perfectness per se. Do you agree, if you do – do you think it could be the reason of decay of the “movement” of 60ies?

Mmmmmm, I don’t really understand what you are saying /asking here. I think I am very human! I think the sixties wasn’t anthropocentric at all. A lot of people were searching for something better, how to live together in a more humane and healthy and spiritual ways. And often we did just that. There is a myth being actively promoted that the sixties were an embarrassing failure. This myth [false myth, a big lie] is a part of the culture war, an attempt to drain the power out of the sixties so that people will not try it again. We stopped the war. We set the civil rights struggle in motion, which set up the women, gay, disabled movements. We started thinking about the environment. The general vibe of the sixties was taking care of one another, of experimental living. Failure is a part of experimenting. But we set up alternative schools, free stores, underground newspapers, free medical clinics, programs to feed people, etc. These were so successful that the government set out to destroy them by any means necessary, including murder [of course all undercover]. So the sixties didn’t “decay.” It was murdered. But most of my friends from back then and the “leaders” of the times who I have interviewed are still working on change!

4. well – now I have a unique chance to speak with the real father of a psychedelic Family from 70ies! I mean, that was the time of Families – Source family, Process family, even Manson family. what can you say about the phenomena? who are the people, that joined you back in 70ies and the ones, who join you now? what means – living in a Family? I’m almost touching the legendary time now!

Well, I have been living communally since 1969. I am still in contact, in relationship, with a lot of them going back to then. Humans are mammals, coming from packs through small tribes. Before two hundred years ago, people had strong extended families. The “nuclear” family is a very recent development, causing isolation, limited possibilities. So the tribal body just seems more practical to me, if the people are committed to one another. This is especially true with raising children. You have people you can depend on.

Here is a poem about it:

tribal performance

by

frank moore

copyrighted, september 30, 1992

i am not interested in

climbing up

onto the alter of the stage,

in hiding behind the invisible fourth wall.

i am not interested in

dividing myself

from the people,

from the magic,

from the tribal community.

i am not interested in

hiding

behind masks

or characters.

i am not interested in

doing monologs,

standing alone

and isolated

under the spotlight…

not interested in

being a cultural commentary.

not interested in

being a lone artist,

suffering,

alone,

traveling around the land,

chasing fame…

or at least recognition……

embittered

that art doesn’t pay.

i am not interested in

fucking you

the audience.

i am not interested in

just putting my cock

into your body.

i want much more than sex.

i want to put my whole body

into your body…

i want to take

your whole body

into my body.

i want

our naked skin

to melt together

in touch…

our skin

melted

into an organ of tribal body…

an organ of connection……..

an organ that brings everything within.

i want

to erase

the false role

of skin

as the dividing line

that separates

you from me,

the outside from within,

the above from the below.

i want us to be

in a tribal body,

in the state of community.

i want us to be

cozy,

wrapped up into one another’s bodies

as parts of one body….

rocking together.

i am not talking

symbolically or abstractly.

i am not talking

flashes or peak experiences.

i am not talking

about fractions of a second,

or seconds,

or minutes.

i am talking about

hours and days

within this tribal body

within the magical reality of performance.

i’m talking about

physical reality that

makes us sweat,

makes us be turned-on…

a reality that

we can touch and rub…

a reality of

human laughter

and heavy sobs of true feeling…

a reality

which sticks onto our bodies,

our naked tribal body…

and gets carried out

of the ritual space

into “the real world,”

“real life,”

infecting

that outer world

with the virus of

new alternatives and new possibilities.

but this tribal performance…

this calling up of tribal body,

tribal experience,

tribal reality…

is much more possible

when the “performance”

comes out of a tribal life….

when the tribal reality

is not limited

to the performance reality.

life on the road

for an artist

is lonely,

isolating.

this tends to

infect

both the artist

and the art.

and the fact of the matter is,

performance is

a full time occupation

for a single body…

and in cold practical reality,

this occupation does not pay the artist…

the artist has to be willing

to pay the art

for the privilege of doing it.

this has always been true.

this will not change.

this places the artist

who lives in only one body

in an almost impossible situation…

a situation

that is only made liveable by either

magic or compromise

(and compromise

is death

to both the art

and the artists).

but the artist

who lives and creates

within a tribal body,

a tribal community,

can perform

many different tasks

at once both

in the art

and in the mundane world.

the tribal body

can go to work

to get money,

do the art’s office work,

make the flier,

book tickets…..

all at the same time.

this is also true

for inside the ritual of art.

and besides,

the tribal body

has much more fun on the road…

and that fun

(joy)

infects

the art.

i have a dream for the 90’s….

that we will see

artist bands,

clans,

carnivals,

circuses…..

all self-contained

tribal communities…

roaming the country

doing art rituals.

yes,

i have a dream…

the night of the tribal bodies!

_

5. so you have chosen sex as your life weapon, not drugs, music, or violence – like the others did. how it happened you came to this? what do you think of sex culture of 60-70ies? don’t you think they all lost the war for sex? what was the evolution of your sex performance – coming to the eroplay.

Well, I think I lay out the evolution of Eroplay in ART OF A SHAMAN. And I use everything in changing things… Music, art, dance, and maybe even drugs [Somala]. I don’t do sex performance. I use sex, like everything else, in performance. As the times got more repressive, my performances have gotten more explicit in response. I have discovered different erotically magical states, each with different effects.

CHERO is the physical life energy. I created the word “chero” by combining “chi” and “eros”.

EROUR is vulnerable strength.

EROPLAY is intense nonlinear physical touching, rubbing, licking, exploring for physical pleasure for its own sake. Eroplay is foreplay which is released from the linear goals of reaching genital orgasm.

TANSEX is another state of physical trance play. As in eroplay, there is no genital intercourse. However there maybe orgasms in tansex. But the orgasm in tansex has not the linear goal peak quality it has in sex.

PANTAN combines various kinds of orgasm [explosions of energy] with ontonse [a regular implosion of energy] within an intensely small/intimate nonlinear play. These explosions and implosions feed off one other, creating a sustainable state of enjoyable pleasure. The sustainable state of pantan can become the context of your whole life. Pantan is the state of turn-on, aroused enjoyment of life and of being together. Within pantan creativity, inspiration, a sense of awe and newness, etc. always are at work.

TANPAN may include intercourse, but for magical purposes.

I may use each of these states within a performance.

But I have to say that describing the sixties as a sex culture is again a part of the false myth that drains you of the possibility of getting to the roots of the sixties. True, I think “free love“ was a failed experiment. But this is too simplistic a statement, needing paragraphs of explanations. Also failed experiments are where successful experiments come from.

Moreover, calling the sixties a sex culture is like calling my performances sex performances. It keeps everybody from deep complexity!

6. you are one of the rare american artists, whose art was considered offensive by a government office. tell me more about that case. What are the ranks of offensiveness to the public, you can trace for your art? did you have more problems with law?

I answered most of this in THE COMBINE PLOT which I emailed you. I never try to be offensive. But I am willing to deal with any reaction.

The only time the cops raided my performance was a poetry reading… No nudity, no eroticism! In fact I hadn’t started to read! Go figure it!

7. tell me about your president campaign – some stories right from the horse mouth!

See the archives at http://frankmooreforpresident08.blogspot.com/ !

8. couple of words about your future projects and the ones ongoing. and the final project of selling tickets for your death show – that’s a triumph of antihumanism.

Well, how about two words? STAY TUNED!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

* * * * *

(Erika wrote:)

Great interview! Really fun to read

CHAPTER 20

Mopping up now and we are playing dirty growling raucous hip sailor-fashion jazz of our jams of our tribal explicit eroticism. Whatever is necessary to renew the atmosphere, pure spiritual intoxication in music and pictures, hung low art of couple general vibe of the things going back years past sufferings. Ain’t my favorite singers fiddle with their voices? Quite right! The best cherry malts were doing reasonably well in creating the best shows of the things going outside censorship, wars, interreligious disharmony of the tributes to Dave. Even in the below robotic affirmative babble of the needed set queen of all subcultures and pictures, there are photographs of all sorts of horrors of childhood passions brooding imperceptibly within the marriages of your inner asshole and her asshole. And you thought we were finish with assholes, didn’t you?! Well, good luck!

I just play silly to prepare for fun, communal Needles rising slowly, getting better hopefully. We will talk together beyond imagination and pictures! Lord, what is your mailing address? God, protect me! Unpopular I will survive barely! Bathe with me, playing in the tub as we have done together beyond dying always asking about being involved in true two-way intimacy, joy and happiness. Are our own interests and pictures coming tomorrow afternoon? The needed juice was quite successful in creating, inducing dreams outside of separation and for a bid for fun show. Ok, actually we have a long way to go into these melted adventures. Articulating each syllable clearly, defined against all kinds of arousing unknowns. Words are notes. Images are cords. Can you recommend any more? Well, good! Luck is rather pitiful little code of ethics, but not morality. Therefore diversity in true wayside that Carrie will be playing in the rafters and Dave will be rapping in the next episode! Blows everything explicitly out of depression already taken possession of these treasures. I kept writing this book because there is still time to catch the plane of arousing desire into SHAPE and conscious grin unconcernedly with assholes. Lustily ha ha anything goes! Lee will miss this rare opportunity for the success with shag pussies with assholes widespread open, ready! Note, just when you thought we were finish with assholes and normal Joe Jane who just checked out, here they are again! All roads lead back to jam! After your carpentry of depression has been crazy, madame, you may come with me using plants to catch an itchy asshole, thinking it’s taking responsibility of being diverted from prison shitheel and normal people like yourself!
Picture this! Quiet impressive orgasms and conscious lucidity of arousing rubbing gently were doing reasonably well in creating a powerful nexus of expanding erotic zones of fun! Communal living theater for the doing art is not going to be digitally amplified by the darkness increased under swirling dresses smooth-shaven legs stretched out from behind riffs of expanding twisting words, images flowing non- linear to renew the atmosphere. Pure spiritual intoxication in music and dancing nude slides in creating a sense of humor and high heaven. Forgive us, Lord!

What is normal? What’s happening, babe? Who loves ya? I kept thinking the unthinkable! Perhaps I’m speaking out of turn. But who knows? Posterity ain’t born yet! So I just play silly to go all the way until you tell me to stop. This solidification is not going within skins, trash and goo. I outlined my concerns to Dave. Even in the next phase of life, we can put a sign of fine print out at perfoliate of being always amazed, bewildered and dancing nude!

Haylofts usually up in the rafters and tiles designed to knock off half-a-crown for verbal abuse are dealing with a hard-core version of Feisto. Why are those actors who rip down all fliers including ours in mind growing cynical? Stroke her asshole! Can you recommend any reaction to those rogues? The kitchen table talking intensely to a porn butcher’s knife is great. Most articles ain’t bad! How is SAM, inquired ugly Ladies. Kicking off midstream was wondering if you use witch hazel today. The latest chapter is neither ripple nor pitched. I was half-baked! So sue me! If you want to rub some surprises into these issues, then focus on reaching outside of yourself. Picture representing the small grave-yard beside my mother and son is most unhappy. Didn’t you bring the wrongdoer to light? A large portion of this chapter becomes the wrongdoer of fun and the respectable, honest girl comes, actually blows everything explicitly out of gas tank involuntarily, applauded becoming immediately sensible of something evil temper with large weeds of something mysterious and puzzling phenomenon, be explained all sorts of horrors of childhood experience.

Rashes of personal irresponsibility spread on white underwear and bras and whitish bellies of brats and punkie whiny Mommy Buzzy boys and Dad’s girls. Well, I got herpes maybe, but due to a brain fart, I rubbed my cock all over her lap-dog pussy. You should have stopped me! What will you do next time to prevent my being a fucking dick head? But I enjoyed the freedom! But why do you let dick heads like me in?

Oh, it is getting real hard to write surreal when the above actually happened in the normal reality! But the magic has protected for over forty years from herpes, slip shits, and all that would crush the beautiful Florabella of the potential joint somewhere in secret alliance hopefully the piece of fresh venison grilled on live coals of a risk of being always amazed and awe-struck pads of conducting wires of personal worth. I understand how they [usually liberals] want to blow Eden up after they have spent a cozy night in the late night slumber party, all cuddled up together. After it is established what’s possible [everything], they are not willing to put themselves all the way into the volcano! Their bluff is called subjective though apparently not willing to be working for the common goodness of fresh particles of truth. So they try to blow everything up into control. But why do they use little CAP pistols that just whim-wham and limply hiccoughed out of depression and resentment and frustration smolders in Canada’s national debt? It’s just pitiful!

If someone says he/she/whatever can’t love another [you] before she /he/whatever love her/himself, RUN! Love doesn’t have a subject! There are no dividing lines really. You either love or you don’t! The bitch just told you she just don’t fucking love, using that slime snotty book which we talked about before. She is running a con game, wasting your body! But everybody nods, grunts, smiles and just enables the bitch just because it’s in the book of politically correct insanity! The followers of depression already described such betraying as much damage as possible under pressure expectations without anyone catching a sneaky way beyond dying. Always asking about missing the woman freaking out. They share strange sexual ghoul of the night! Yep, it was dangerous to attack them with indescribable fury. But I am! Your candy man will! Find only pieces of despair. Yet hoping that they didn’t devote themselves all day pushing beyond this shit, I love the words! Tell me to stop this poem! I dare you! Affirm the bitch! Just don’t fucking eat, drink beer, or slide over to talk to them until the dust settles! Here is what people are saying on live streaming improv booths that sold things: have you check out pretty girls? I am still playing in young sexy female students lose even at my age! Catch up with me! Ah, how do I do it!? Ain’t that’s why you are keeping reading this? Well, read on!

Still here? Please, you don’t wait to love. Love for yourself and love for the other is the same thing. If you aren’t ready love now, you will never be because love only happens now. Inked this sucker in! And no genders or races! Those are trivial abstract bullshit. So I am talking too directly, focused on acting intimacy for you, splitting the issues of life. Apparently this is dangerous and subversive and harder for most folks to find the odd well-placed girly picture representing the new cheesecake. But why should we beat around the bush? I like to beat in it. Folks, here is what my dear friend said: “Valentin, I’m rather intense. Pss, we have played the part of gluttony and subversive and love for stories fantastic pads of the potential joint of civil liberty!”

Don’t fucking ask me what that means! I did not say it! A clue is running the space of half gone to hell! Personally I am available for you for years in finding out pretty girls wear only pieces of fog and romantic passion love, only pieces of excellent food in their navels and below! Dive in! Their navels and below are keeping me full! Fun life! Free from bondage so I wonder how I like a good sex- reading!

I have always been hungry for life, for skin relationships. I have never been ambitious. But hunger is a self motivation, a self-moving following in finding out what is next, how to do it! Next opening always pays out pretty much better than I could have planned spontaneity and below the water-line. I am the kind of guy who comes into adventures knowing how easy it is to do. I just do it! Ain’t that a bitch ! I know! I am not supposed to be able to do anything! But everything comes easy for me. I don’t really have to study. I just start playing, figuring out things as I play. Guess I am available and willing and practical. Don’t hold that against me! I was just born that way! I was born a good experimentalist. Can’t help it! I just know what to do without goals or agendas! I don’t know the right way. It just works in a sneaky way beyond imagination!

I think tribal explicit eroticism and professional version of creativity are playing dirty growling raucous. Hip poets of farts and casually lifted by the darkness come through somehow slightly easier than the normal reality. But obviously jawbone isn’t being responsible for what it appears to be digitalize and passionate revolt that happens now. Inked this sucker in! My studio in back of the potential joint of doing something right also is rather pitiful little joyful whinny experience of all sorts of horrors. I’ll understand how life free from bondage is dangerous and subversive and harder to imagine staying with me playing in young sexy costumes that we hang up with cuts of times during recessions. I pulled in childhood passions brooding imperceptibly within skins trash and goo. Was Nursing infant above the immense hollow of hell? Pleasure creatures went from Behring to Davis straits, then Polly took her opportunity notwithstanding the buzzing of the potential audience to Berkeley, home of horrors of times during life reaching up instant into adventures articulating each year to set up everything in between legs wide open panting without breath and without being paid. These haven’t been invited yet, hoping that they didn’t devote themselves all day, pushing beyond dying. Always asking about missing real petrified wood, while others would take us to listen to luver as seriously as the Bible or prayer-book of the most explicitly realized early morning rain falling violently towards women who wanted to say hi! Rob them! Rob them of their minds! Just do it! Ain’t that your part of our duet? Hits written by John full hard-core kick-ass heart! Attack inducing volume even though apparently this sucker in all over the world is nowhere near enough either to hear or to absorb into the mix. So send him back, sir! Fate has shown me the cold-blooded exhibition of marksmanship at that villainous ball of fire! Pink magic! Not black or brown or white magic. Pink magic! We all came from Africa! Races are trivial abstract bullshit based on time. We all fe/male cross-dresser with indescribable alike numerous blackish patches spread on consignment. It is on a crazy continually a-tremble with suppressed sexuality into religious emotion and horror. But obviously you will never hear this because everybody is invested in this bullshit isolationism because it insures Powers prophet gains big profit, bigwig big-name and bigtime and goo of all sorts of perils of fire traced by walking through art. Btw, I divorced this bullshit a very long time ago. I don’t miss this bullshit! Softly but distinctly transmitted through playing dirty. Makes exploring what is practical, obvious and passionate. Revolt outrage on consignment! It insures a cramping joint and muscle of our maze body splashed with irresistible desire. This visit started randomly, but obviously we got it right down into this bottomless pit of truth imprisoned unwilling witnesses of their minds beyond any cost! I was half-baked and tired and was watching a sex movie! See! Things come easy to me! I usually jam with anyone! Fuck em! Bawled up in a punk song, I will survive such pains about experimental chopping away at bullshit! Dinner-time!

I am back! Sir, I like watching nude cocks in movement of the dancing goofy bodies! Yes, ain’t that clear? Warm juicy sweaty joy I feel, furious giggling, joyfully wigging around soft dreaminess into actual fully engage play, silly sexy adventures articulating each other’s company. I always have! Entertain me!

I am a jack of all sorts of trades. I ain’t bragging. I may not be doing it the right way, but I get results! I deliver! I am a lover, brother, son, teacher, lecturer, relationship and business counselor, shaman, writer, poet, performance artist, painter, composer, promoter, director, actor, activist, producer, father, film /video editor, Singer, piano Player, television talk show host, publisher, critic, philosopher, dj, manager, presidential candidate, ceo, etc. I start long term projects such as a web station, a night club, various kinds of shows, etc., and then keep them going, expanding for years. I could go on. I just have only started the list. I have design a house and many other things. Played on every medium. You know I am not modest, shy, humble, unassuming. And this proves it! But I am suppose to be not be able to do anything. Supposedly I had no intelligence and should be institutionalize. What is up with that? We are wasting most of our potential as a species! Inferior Grace of madame Urbain was not spastic enough either for vague feelings or races as shabby vice as society forces wage against all kinds of arousing unknowns. I am just a guy who always did not realized he couldn’t do thingamabob thingamajig, so he did them, getting up on stage and singing for two hours to corny records!

The trickster appears to have done dueling with irresistible desire this visit started randomly but obviously we don’t have it! Nobody admits the cold-blooded little demon exists conceptually! But it does! Nudges them into shreds of green woods and Meadows and Parks and singing while he is now gaining upon each over-extended limit!

Darn, I forgot a lot that I am and do. I am a friend, political adviser, life coach, a pain in the neck and ass, a trouble maker, community developer, a gadfly, a plumber of the People’s communication pipelines. I am an outsider and an outcast even to the societies of outsiders and outcasts, living on the outskirts of Victoria! I remember you! Wish I remember when you thought it was obvious that you enjoyed messy life free from rust and so complete that you have had the most explicitly realized early write-ups by the darkness critics!

We hang together in-depth on both fronts. The next episode chapter is almost here! It does include audiology services. Call your local health services Inc annual eating and drinking sparingly services Inc annual eating and swallowing problems and abilities of luck. Tonight on every golden brown blood-stains this chapter is almost dead end! Hope you come through! Somehow this chapter offers strategies for day-to-day living with irresistible babes! And swallowing saliva buildup is Suctioning outrage on to something which was advertised like this version sorry, I can’t stop this chapter! I just can’t stop this chapter! Heebie-jeebies, help me! Am I one of those guys who write surreal manifestos in really tight, really tiny handwriting in volumes of aging notebooks? If I am, what does that makes you?

Well, obviously you and I couldn’t end this chapter! Whiners that we are! I don’t know when it will end. You can look down, turn the Pages over forward and check. You then come back here and tell me when it will end. All I can do is keep writing this chapter until it ends! Oh, what an amazing maze this is! A good novel novel! So far from being clubbed by making minor Perks, I remember you wish for vague glimmerings of aging guys. So send us those rogues! My normal people keep me busy and preoccupied with irresistible desire of magical play with no idea of vengeance, animated sensitive plants in tubs of luck. Tonight deeper into pantan and drinking nothing whatever between rubbing aroused melting and so much response from India! The societies of outsiders were doing something very important to try to convince people softly but distinctly to be uncomfortable and slightly perfumed with irresistible suggestion of turning funny. When they kicked vigorously against all kinds of young sexy uplifting and slightly contemptible rigid perpendicular fragile egos of mere ambition distraction Uglification and derision, Kirsty was Nursing injuries of those damn tests! Examine how smoothly mounted she is! Already damned silly thirstily-smiling little brunette with a hard-core kick-ass bend over, revealing holes foxy, foxholes! The most explicitly realized words suffice speak of monsters whose mouths were like gulfs in volumes of those perfect sea-butterflies animating by scratching the flesh of mere phosphoric phenomenon. The monster emerged bleeding at the house. Don’t burn down the last batch of wounded pride! Ill-will hatred envy bigotry and selfishness in volumes entitled you to come back here and tell your doctor immediately how you could vocalize erect attitude with members quickly frowned and winced! Under pressure of atmospheres which would allow several inches of the erotic beast, I repeated my command of taboo hidden behind their expectations without being thunderstricken.

In a sneaky way beyond this inner asshole, it would make sense if someone says Good-night back here we have played at work no one has been crazy around here except you! Could you come through somehow slightly ironical? Apostrophes are wasting your body! But everybody nods grunts smiles and winces. Actually work tricks California. Must see yourself picture of taboo art dance small intimate journey into the mix of traditional fund-raisers of wounded men. Were you attracted by pussies with assholes widespread open ready for you splitting hairs about adding great drops of mere ambition into this unexplored abyss? Whose mouths were you doing something evil with? Assholes asked about you! I covered for you. I am just loyal! So send me a big scandal! I couldn’t end this now! You know what they said! They say artists are underpaid! True! But most folks don’t fucking eat. So why do we artists think we are getting a raw deal? Apparently this sucker in my mind is totally undervalued! Here is what my dear sucker wants: people to play on my body physically following the road of life dancing erotically following listening being soft dreaminess into actual Songs love using quotes from your skirts! Is that too much to ask? Then do it! DO IT ONE TIME FOR ME! And then keep doing it!

Ah! I don’t care if it works great. We are playing dirty together in freedom in this mysterious chapter going on terra firma alive with myriads of infusoria and so complete! The book of you and I couldn’t end in smoke-filled bars surrounded by profound enjoyment of quiet amusement. What you do effects my existence on board the ship of madmen. The ship appeared to be able to finish what is stuck up with that unknowing about our excursions outside of this chapter. Irresponsibility spread on white bread is unhealthy, dangerous and so weighted with heavy leaden gray deceptive fears exaggerated. Opinions of ancient Greeks were waged in volumes entitled MYSTERIES OF ART FOR VAGUE OBSCURITY. Truly this sucker wants to go all sorts of extraordinary dimensions. So we should just sit back here and pet secret heavy together in-depth conversation with each other who are keeping reading this. Well obviously we are each other’s creation. A pussy and a beaver are sitting on a sofa beside each other. Yes, both are wet! Soft flesh pleasure building, digging horny as seriously as a zombie of ancient historians, building tapping into actual sex mags and pet secret phrase for those roarings of extraordinary supernatural beings. Occasionally without the credit the reports among various pretexts hid what you think about my tastes. Sing with me! See it as attacking the last Buzzy boys and girls. Wear only pieces of excellent see-through colorful leaves and branches to the next episode. Blows my mind! I understood what freaks them out! Indefatigably I covered hidden vices, passages fester twisted perverted blues of excellent see-through van. Weyden was Nursing his new hurt failing invention. Musing on social schizophrenic conditioning, I hope this will be left to no great talker! He talked much and shaving at the same time! He had only given us both a raw deal! Apparently this unexplored abyss remained incalculable. The ship appeared to threaten to commit suicide. But if this is dangerous to commit suicide, then we might reconsider it! Grappling with fears, hopefully of madmen, the next opening of emotions were downloading from your skirts. Underwear is unhealthy! Dangerous sewage was half-baked and tired eyes absorb trauma of this chapter irresponsibility. Hey, even this paragraph is unhealthy because it goes on and on! I can’t help it… Just streaming out.

Ok, if you insist! There! Feel better? Feel like you’ve gained space? White space of regret! Can disappear! Perhaps after forever! Trippy! It works! Great! Are you the gentle reader I always read about in old novels? The narrator always talked to you, never to me! I just ain’t gentle in that way! But I always have wondered about you. And now I am talking to you! Does that mean I am THE NARRATOR? Far out! How am I doing? Narrating, I mean. You help me a lot by staying, listening being open, rubbing me dirty, being open and soft and warn and GENTLE! Hey, you are really THE GENTLE READER!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

chapter 19

Attacked by the ad man, I felt pale with rare exceptions of closed caption of the best cherry malts. The smell of illness in my mind and deep in my nose and mouth painted a whitish gray along the carpet, woven by the new chapters and you are certainly very much in it! Folks, here is my canned rap on everything to make sure what time there is still on the social schizophrenic conditioning I hope! I did the outrageous humor among various gangland characters in reality. It overturns their personal favorites from the last batch of wounded pride as possible under these strange sexual progressive untreatable terminal disorders of illness, especially the Icelandic dude of business. He kept looking through the bullshitting and deep in algebraical calculations of X and other swag. We will play dirty Songs about experimental chopping away at life, including being told whatever Shelley thought. She was ambitious, unscrupulous, capable and deep opened before me. Ok, good, like always! Then she answered properly. She has turned against all parts of this chapter when you thought you might get into bad habits in that situation. Couldn’t find anything, anyone that was totally lost from seeing sexy Broad undulations of this chapter. Glamorizing art of couple of times where you had another opinion of death.

Play dirty growling noise music jam with raw sewage of passion! Madame, sing hymns about all together round and round. Move up anytime actually work explicit eroticism whatever is necessary! Therefore diversity all the way beyond imagination, magnified everything else painted upon our knees trees sprang like shitting ugly. How many times do you shit in a day? I mean on average. What color and texture? Do you consider yourself regular? How much effort does it usually take, and how much time? I mean, does it slip right out, or grunting moaning shouting coaxing gesturing long time? Or do you have to just sit there, waiting for channels to open the hatches and surprise you? Are you sitting on your pot waiting, reading this? I need to know these things so I can write chapters that fit your shit pattern. How does it usually smell? Wonder if you want to know about me. I can clog the bowl! Dark smelly logs or mudslides usually. Usually three or four times a day. Usually takes about five minutes, not really enough time to read. My mind thought rejection is necessary to fill the bowels bowl! Dark smelly logs
upon examining my shit is a fun communal tribal ritual around here!

Now we are getting to the gritty titty a fun show! When I was a kid, I just made one deposit a daily, usually in the morning. But now I shit three or four times a day. There’s no right kind of regularity! I can not shit under pressure! And I hate when it starts to come out, but then changes its mind mid way and just hangs there until you squeeze it into half halfway… The hanging turd limply splashes into the water and the stubborn half goes back into your bowels, giving you an unsavoury unsatisfactory uncomfortable fullness all day, pushing on your heart and lungs until you can finally finish your business. And besides, cutting off midstream so to speak makes for a very messy wipe with a lot of trees cut down so that your asshole isn’t itchy and smelly. But you cannot go around all day with a log sticking out of your inner asshole! It would stink the place up! There were years when people didn’t wiped my asshole that good. But they thought cripples had a special funky smell like blacks! It’s a wonder that people hung around with me, playing with me…. Ah, when I believed once a day was what being regular should be… Well, some times I didn’t make it, had to sit in it! And even then I had a great social life! So fart away! Let it rip! Brown clouds bellowing up anytime actually. But how are you sure it will be just a fart waft through your asshole and not more solid or liquid? Where does that self-confidence to let it rip come from? I mean, sometimes we are wrong! But letting it rip is definitely much healthier than holding it in! Btw, ever notice that sexy female students produce the most deathly stupor farts? You should research this!

And what’s up with a lot of guys not being able to get their piss in to the bowl? They miss by several inches! And they don’t even notice. They just leave without mopping up! And I am not just talking about in punk Dives and truck stops, but in middle-class homes with shag rugs. I know that the flow often squirts differently and the pressure varies and all kinds of arousing unknowns comes into play, so to speak… Impossible to calculate! But look down upon it! And clean up after yourself! Hey, you are not the crip! I am!

Glad you liked the cookies and all kinds of arousing things that never are talked about! You thought you were alone, didn’t you? Well, we are all mended together! Nobody admits openly that rubbing an itchy asshole can produce much more zippy pleasure than any orgasm, especially if you use witch hazel!

Wonder what will be revealed in the next episode, chapter!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

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