Stanley I. Brookoff's Blog, page 7

HYPERSPACE

WILL THE END OF HYPERSPACE –

BE OUR END

?

A TOPIC YOU MUST EXPLORE!

THE CONTENTS OF HYPERSPACE ARE THE CONTENTS OF PLANET EARTH!  SHOULD YOU NOT KNOW WHY YOUR HOME IS WHAT IT IS?

AN INSANE ASYLUM

(Read the daily news.)

http://www.hyperspacebook.wordpress.com

HYPERSPACE

 

HYPERSPACE

 The Most Important Novel of the 20th and 21st Centuries

HYPERSPACE is the MOST IMPORTANT novel written in the 20th and 21st centuries because it offers a valid explanation as to why planet Earth has been from time immemorial and still is a violence-ridden planet and why our species, homo sapiens, may indeed be brain-programed to self-destruct!  HYPERSPACE shows in great pictorial detail the CRIMES committed against the individual AT BIRTH; how these CRIMES against the individual TWIST personality, and how this affects the person later in life.  It is an indisputable FACT THAT ALMOST EVERY HOSPITAL IN THE WORLD, inadvertently or purposefully, MISTREATS NEWBORNS! In a letter sent to me by noted French obstetrician Frederick Leboyer, author of Birth Without Violence, he wrote the following:

 "The treatment, no! mistreatment of the New-born is still, practically EVERYWHERE all over the world as criminal as ever."

 How else can the following questions be answered?

 *Why has our species been and is currently, as always, prone to war, rape, pillage, irrational suicidal behavior?

 *Why is there a preponderance of teen suicides?

 *Why do mothers abandon newborns, in some cases throwing them in garbage cans and compactors; in other cases outright murdering them?

*Why are there religious fanatics who "know" they will go to "heaven" if they murder "infidels," the more they murder the higher in "heaven" they believe they will go?

 *Why throughout history has there been as there is now currently an overwhelming number of people with emotional problems making them incompatible with others and unable to live sanely with themselves?

 WHY IS PLANET EARTH A LUNATIC ASYLUM?

If a majority of us are mistreated at birth, then it follows that a majority of us have trauma entrenched in the lower region of the brain which will affect our behavior in a major way later in life WHEN WE BECOME SEXUAL!  The electrical discharge known as orgasm OPENS THE BRAIN'S NEURONS AND RELEASES BURIED TRAUMA!  This phenomenon was explicated by psychologist Arthur Janov, discoverer of Primal Therapy:

.

. . how which organ systems later become afflicted by stress depends on prototypic events occurring very early in life, in a way associated with the maturation of the brain.

Thus the newborn is 'adequate' in the areas of respiration, coronary response, and other life-sustaining processes. These are integrated by the innermost portion of the brain in the anatomic midline. Traumas at this stage of life (from in utero to the age of approximately one year) constitute what I call 'first line traumas.' (Arthur Janov, Ph.D, Primal Man.)

DEFINITION: Primal = upsurging of subconscious Trauma (Primal Pain)

It is my belief that much compulsive neurotic sex is an unconscious attempt to produce a first-line discharge. It is one of the only ways a neurotic can bring on a massive compulsive release for himself. Indeed, Primal patients who are fairly advanced in treatment find that convulsive orgasm immediately plunges them into birth Primals. In short, orgasm for the neurotic may well be a discharge of unresolved convulsing Pain, and the reason for the severe convulsions during orgasm must be due to first-line pressure and not to any property of normal sex.

Compulsive sex, then, is a necessary deterrent to the possibility of seizures or of psychosis. It is when the human system becomes rigid, and riddled by internalized moral precepts which preclude free sex, that the first-line discharge moves from the sexual apparatus to the head (seizures). Hospitalized mental patients deprived of sex are also deprived of a chance to discharge tension. It would be far better to teach them the value of sex and masturbation and to help them 'let go' with their bodies. It seems almost trivial: a notion that instead of lining up each morning in the hospital for their electroconvulsive shock treatment, patients should be lining up for their morning sex–a seemingly whimsical but deadly serious notion. The problem, of course, is that free sex for mentally ill persons too often brings on more anxiety, not less. (Arthur Janov, Ph.D, Primal Man.)

It is known that the 9/11 terrorists and the Ft. Hood shooter were involved in sexual activity shortly before their murderous and suicidal acts!  If it became apparent that all jihadi suicide killers did not participate in neurotic sexual escapades shortly before the perpetration of their atrocities it would surprise me. It should be borne in mind that they are looking forward to going to "heaven" where they will have unlimited sex with seventy-two beautiful virgin women (houris).

Depending on the extremity of the mistreatment one suffers at birth, one will be neurotic to that degree . . . or PSYCHOTIC!  The process of creating neurosis and psychosis is the same.  The degree is different! Read HYPERSPACE and WATCH THE PROCESS UNFOLD BEFORE YOUR EYES!

HYPERSPACE shows ALL the events of Jason's life covered by the story from traumatic birth and post-birth to the radical consequences later in his life! In my novels I labor to SHOW EVENTS.  If the story concerns gladiators, as in another of my novels, I SHOW the butcheries of the arena!  In HYPERSPACE I show everything that comprises the life of a psychotic! If a reader cannot tolerate explicit sexuality in a book, then the reader is advised to skip over such passages in HYPERSPACE but keep in mind that they are there, because they are in life and are integral to the process of neurotic and psychotic trauma release!  This is my promise: there is no frivolous word, sexual or otherwise, in HYPERSPACE.  Every word, every description is there for a reason in a story comprising the most exquisite prose interlaced with poetically delineated scenes, even while steeping itself in the psychological reality of the most serious brain malfunction.

Do you agree that there is something radically wrong with life on this planet?  Do you agree that there is something radically wrong historically and currently with the activities of our species?  Then it is in your interest topurchase and read HYPERSPACE!

 http://www.hyperspacebook.wordpress.com

Use the Amazon or Barnes and Noble links to purchase this extremely important book!  Or go to the publisher's link (AuthorHouse).

 IT IS IN YOUR INTEREST TO KNOW WHY THE WORLD YOU LIVE IN IS LOST IN SPACE!

Join the HYPERSPACE fan club and Like HYPERSPACE!  You are invited to copy and paste in your address bar

 http://www.facebook.com/reqs.php#!/pages/Hyperspace/137550308832

 Or just enter HYPERSPACE in the Facebook search bar.  It will be the top-most item to appear: the blue book cover with the shining star in the upper right hand corner.

READ HYPERSPACE AND LEARN WHY HOMO SAPIENS IS NOT SANE. LEARN WHAT THE PROCESS IS THAT HAS TURNED PLANET EARTH INTO A LUNATIC ASYLUM!

HYPERSPACE

WARNING: HYPERSPACE

IS NOT A WORK OF SCIENCE-FICTION.

 THIS NOVEL IS FOR ADULTS ONLY–

 MINORS SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED

ACCESS TO THIS WORK .

http://www.hyperspacebook.wordpress.com

HYPERSPACE

WARNING: 

HYPERSPACE

  IS NOT A WORK OF SCIENCE-FICTION.

 THIS NOVEL IS FOR ADULTS ONLY–

 MINORS SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED

 ACCESS TO THIS WORK .

http://www.hyperspacebook.wordpress.com

 

HYPERSPACE

http://www.hyperspacebook.wordpress.com

HYPERSPACE

The Most Important Novel of the 20th and 21st Centuries

HYPERSPACEis the MOST IMPORTANT novel written in the 20th and 21st centuries because it shows in great pictorial detail the CRIMES committed against the individual AT BIRTH; how these CRIMES against the individual TWIST personality, and how this affects the person later in life.  It is an indisputable FACT THAT ALMOST EVERY HOSPITAL IN THE WORLD, inadvertently or purposefully, MISTREATS NEWBORNS!  In a letter sent to me by noted French obstetrician Frederick Leboyer, author of Birth Without Violence, he wrote the following:

"The treatment, no!  mistreatment of the New-born is still, practically EVERYWHERE all over the world as criminal as ever."

How else can the following questions be answered?

*Why has our species been and is currently, as always, prone to war, rape, pillage, irrational suicidal behavior?

*Why is there a preponderance of teen suicides?

*Why do mothers abandon newborns, in some cases throwing them in garbage cans and compactors; in other cases outright murdering them?

*Why are there religious fanatics who "know" they will go to "heaven" if they murder "infidels," the more they murder the higher in "heaven" they believe they will go?

*Why throughout history has there been as there is now currently an overwhelming number of people with emotional problems making them incompatible with others and unable to live sanely with themselves?

WHY IS PLANET EARTH A LUNATIC ASYLUM?

If a majority of us are mistreated at birth, then it follows that a majority of us have trauma entrenched in the lower region of the brain which will affect our behavior in a major way later in life WHEN WE BECOME SEXUAL! The electrical discharge known as orgasm OPENS THE BRAIN'S NEURONS AND RELEASES BURIED TRAUMA!  Depending on the extremity of the mistreatment one suffers at birth, one will be neurotic to that degree . . . or PSYCHOTIC! The process of creating neurosis and psychosis is the same.  The degree is different!  Read HYPERSPACE and WATCH THE PROCESS UNFOLD BEFORE YOUR EYES!

There is explicit sexuality in HYPERSPACE.  The reason for this is because sex is integral to the psychophysiological process of BRAIN TRAUMA RELEASE and because the greatest novel writing is not to tell a story, but to SHOW EVENTS!   HYPERSPACE shows ALL the events of Jason's life covered by the story from traumatic birth and post-birth to the radical consequences later in his life!  In my novels I labor to SHOW EVENTS.  If the story concerns gladiators, as in another of my novels, I SHOW the butcheries of the arena!  In HYPERSPACE I show everything that comprises the life of a psychotic!  If a reader cannot tolerate explicit sexuality in a book, then the reader is advised to skip over those passages but keep in mind that they are there, because they are in life and are integral to the process of neurotic and psychotic trauma release!

Do you agree that there is something radically wrong with life on this planet?  Do you agree that there is something radically wrong historically and currently with the activities of our species?  Then you MUST purchase and read HYPERSPACE!

Use the Amazon or Barnes and Noble links to purchase this extremely important book!  Or go to the publisher's link (AuthorHouse). 

IT IS IN  YOUR INTEREST TO KNOW WHY THE WORLD YOU LIVE IN IS LOST IN SPACE!

Join the HYPERSPACE fan club and Like HYPERSPACE!  You are invited to click or copy and paste in your address bar

http://www.facebook.com/reqs.php#!/pages/Hyperspace/137550308832

Or just enter HYPERSPACE in the Facebook search bar.  It will be the top-most item to appear: the blue book cover.

READ HYPERSPACE AND LEARN WHY HOMO SAPIENS IS NOT SANE.  LEARN WHAT THE PROCESS IS THAT HAS TURNED PLANET EARTH INTO A LUNATIC ASYLUM!

HYPERSPACE

http://www.hyperspacebook.wordpress.com

IF YOU DECIDE TO PURCHASE HYPERSPACE USE THE AMAZON OR BARNES AND NOBLE LINK.  IF YOU WISH TO PURCHASE THE E-BOOK VERSION, CLICK EITHER OF THESE LINKS DEPENDING UPON WHICH E-READER YOU USE. HYPERSPACE WILL LAST THE PERSON WHO POSSESSES IT A LIFETIME AND THE MEMORY OF THE STORY WILL BE AS LONG LASTING.

MEMBERS OF THE MEDIA CAN CONTACT THE AUTHORHOUSE PROMOTIONAL SERVICES DEPARTMENT BY CALLING 888-728-8467 OR BY E-MAILING pressreleases@authorhouse.com (TO REQUEST A REVIEW COPY, JUST PROVIDE A STREET ADDRESS.

 

HYPERSPACE

Welcome to Planet Earth! 

Welcome to the ASYLUM!

What happens to the brain of a newborn when he or she is smacked around, has medical astringents stuck up his or her nose and around the eyes, is constantly blinded by bright glaring lights, is constantly bombarded by loud brash noise, and is then left in isolation for long periods of time?  Such are standard  "obstetric" procedures in hospitals.  There is a direct connection between such procedures and severe neurosis and psychosis.  Anyone who wishes to view in microcosm why planet Earth is a Lunatic Asylum should read HYPERSPACE (not sci-fi, adults only).  http://www.hyperspacebook.wordpress.com

HYPERSPACE

WARNING: HYPERSPACE

IS NOT A WORK OF SCIENCE-FICTION.

THIS NOVEL IS FOR ADULTS ONLY–

MINORS SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED

ACCESS TO THIS WORK

HYPERSPACE

A Day in the Asylum:

A Day on Planet Earth

 

Walking rightward on the grassy lane amidst the purple flowers and green verdure towards the smooth-boled trees Jason is inhaling deeply the summer air with the soft breeze spreading its warmth around him.  0    "This is like that other planet I imagined about six months ago when I met my Star Friend . . ."  Whisperingly: "Star Friend."  0  "For sure!"  0  "I remember!  We were in this spot last night!  This was the park last night!"  Feeling relief from the familiar setting which a second before appeared to be a beautiful but strange place . . .  0   ". . . like the girl . . . alone . . . looking for a friend.  I should have played with her."  "HEY!  LOOK AT THAT!"  A loud booming voice is breaking into the midst of Jason's brooding.  Jason, trying to discern from which direction it is coming . . .   "IT'S THE BLOND PUSSY!  NOW WE CAN GET HIM!"  Turning rightwards Jason is seeing coming out of the trees and bushes several boys of about his age and a little older.  Instantly he is recognizing the one in the turned backward black baseball cap.  Beneath the cap he is viewing a chubby, mean, angry looking face and with him are two of his friends.  "Yeah," another one of them is saying in a deeper matter-of-fact voice.  "It's the pussy blond jerkoff alright!" He is taller than the black-capped one and is thin, his mouth a twisted snarl, Jason is observing.  "Hey jerkoff," another is yelling, Jason turning his head, seeing that the new voice is coming from another kid, also thin but shorter than the previous speaker.  "Let's see you run blondy!"  Ready to take off Jason is looking down the lane in the direction of the park's entrance but is seeing a fifth kid blocking his way.  This one is the same height as the last and muscular with a nasty look on his darkly tanned face, his slick black hair combed straight back.  "Come on blond pussy prick!" the tan muscular one is snarling.  "Let's see you run!"  The speaker crouches opening his arms as if to catch prey while Jason is looking about realizing that they have fanned around him leaving no unblocked route.  "C'mon," the chubby one in the backward baseball cap is saying.  "Let's punch the fuck outa him!"  Instantly they are rushing Jason, the tan muscular one being the first to reach him and, grabbing him by the shirt, jerking him towards him with one hand, punching him in the left eye with the other clenched tightly into a fist. Seeing before him the one with the black baseball cap turned backward he is suddenly watching a rising leg, his stomach taking a powerful kick, he falling down in pain and breathlessness, the force of the kick and his dropping causing the tan muscular one to lose his grip.  Jason is no longer seeing, it seeming as if all of them together are jumping him, beating him with their clenched fists on the head, all the while uninhibitedly without pause spewing at him chains of expletives.  A hand grabbing his hair is pulling up his head and banging it down on the grassy lane, his head cracking with pain, he wondering if he is bleeding.  Once more he is feeling his head being raised by the pulling of hair.   "Listen," he is hearing one of them saying while his head is being held by pulled hair.  "Let's drag this asshole out of here where there's cement.  Then we can watch him bleed while we're smashing his head!"

"Great idea!" opines another.  Feeling hands tightly gripping his ankles and himself being dragged along the ground, Jason is opening his eyes watching two of them dragging him while wondering where the other three are.  Passing by him speedily in his vision are grass, trees, bushes, flowers as he is being dragged forward across the ground.  Raising his head slightly he is viewing a wall of bushes up front and then suddenly colored stars and circles in the midst of blackness as he is feeling a forceful bang on his head.  "Hey, piece of shit!  Don't raise that girly blond head again, little prick, goddamn little jerkoff, or I'll kick it off!" the muscular tan one is saying while walking behind him with one of the others.  Feeling his body being dragged over a hard surface, flat stones–visibly distinguished by dividing cracks from cementing–are whizzing past his eyes, while a statue of a young boy is passing to his left, he recognizing the park's entrance that he had seen from the street.  "Ok!" the chubby one in the black baseball cap turned backwards is yelling while dropping Jason's left foot.  The tall thin one is dropping his right foot following the other's lead.  "Now I'm going to put this little cocksucking prick out of his misery!"  He is walking to a point adjacent to Jason's head resting on a stone.  Bending down he is grabbing Jason by the hair yanking his head up with sharp jerking motion.  "Wait!  I want to make the asshole suffer a little more," the tan muscular one is saying, "before you crack that beautiful blond  head open."  Drawing back his right leg and kicking it forward with all of the force he can muster he is kicking Jason in the right side.  Repeating this action several times as if in an extreme uncontrollable fit of temper the chubby one is suddenly beginning speaking, still holding Jason's head by his hair while jerking it slightly higher.  "Ok . . ."   "HEY!  GET AWAY FROM THAT BOY!"  A deep booming voice is vibrating in Jason's ears.  Instantly the chubby one is loosening his grip allowing Jason's head to drop, it striking  the stone.  "GET AWAY FROM THAT BOY!" the roaring voice is commanding.  Feeling pain in his head and in his side as he is barely glimpsing his tormentors fleeing, wondering again if he is bleeding, Jason is suddenly feeling a cool hand brushing over his forehead.  Opening his eyes a large black face with full black beard sprinkled with gray hovering over him–tufts of gray-sprinkled black hair popping out from under his cap, deep black eyes staring into him with corner skin crinkles, a larger than usual neck-worn wooden cross dangling on a thick brown leather chord from his upper chest, the top three buttons of his shirt being open–is entering Jason's vision along with an awe inspiring feeling of power and goodness permeating his being that he could not quite define.  Seeming to be studying Jason, the latter is hearing the man speaking.  "Here son," the deep resonating voice that has rescued him is saying.  "Let me help you up."  Wanting to thank him Jason cannot find his voice; wanting to cry he cannot or else his enemies will have won a victory over him.  Jason is watching the large man bending above him supporting himself on one knee; is feeling a hand under his head slowly raising it; is watching the man's other hand going towards his head while the first hand is withdrawing.  "You're bleeding a little, son.  Here, let me help you up and take you home.  Do you live far from here?"  Soft and soothing are the deep sounds of the man's kind voice.  Struggling, Jason is squeezing back the urge to cry.  "No sir," he is forcing out the words.  Feeling the man's hands under his arms slowly raising him, not letting him go even when standing, it is seeming to him that they are remaining in that position for a long time.  "I want to be sure you can stand without my holding you up," the kind deep voice vibrating in his ears is saying.  The hands slipping from under his arms Jason is feeling slightly wobbly.  "Take one step," his friend  behind him is kindly suggesting, he then taking a step and feeling his knees shaking.  "You can do it," the sounds are resonating in his ears, the voice's power giving him strength.  "I'm telling you,  you can!"  the voice is commanding, the kindliness always present, always being felt; its goodness penetrating him to his deepest self.  Taking another step . . .  <i can do it0  "If I walk home on my own it will be a victory over my enemies!"  

"Yes son.  But it will be even more.  It will be an overcoming within yourself."

Walking shakily towards the park's entrance, feeling the power of his rescuer behind him, the entrance is appearing close in his sight.  0    "I can do this alone."  Walking up to him, stopping by his side, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, Jason is turning his head      towards him and, looking up, is viewing his face with full gray sprinkled beard, shiny black eyes staring down at him smiling at him with their corner wrinkles; is feeling his concern, his love, his strength.  "You have decided to take the journey home yourself"–the deep sounds soothing and supporting him– "and I respect your decision and view it with awe because I think you sense what I have learned from a long life, that each man must carry his own cross.  Yet, when we see someone in need we must help."  Continuing staring into his face Jason, watching his free hand rising and descending, is feeling it smoothing his hair around his injury.  "Go home son, and your folks will care for you."  Walking on, passing through the park's opening onto the street, turning left on the way towards his house, Jason is feeling the deep concern for him of the Man, tears welling in his eyes, moistening his face.  Closing his eyes as hard as he can, pushing back the tears, refusing to cry . . .  <my victory0    Seeing a somewhat familiar figure a short distance away . . .  ? . . . don't know . . .0    "Hey kid!"  a rough crackly voice is saying.  "What in blazes happened t' yer?"  0    Approaching him, stopping,  bending down, head with black brimmed sailor's cap tilting leftwards; placing his right hand on Jason's head turning it slightly to Jason's right while holding on to his cane with his other hand, he is guiding Jason's head back, thumb on chin, fingers along cheek.  Gently pressing down his head, viewing his back-of-head wound . . .  "What scum did this t' yer, kid?" speaking threateningly. 

"I don't know them.  I'm new here."  <proud . . . speak calm . . . no crying . . .0   

"Goddamn scum!"  Growling: "If I'da saw 'em do it I'da cracked their goddamned heads open!"  Continuing holding Jason: "When yer older, look up Captain Danny.  Sail with him for a year or two, that's all.  Just a year or two and no one will ever touch ya'!"  Gently releasing Jason's head his gritty voice is once more sounding.  "Go home kid.  Ya' need tending.  I'll watch ya' walkin'."   Beginning walking, thinking about the old man and Captain Danny . . .  0  ". . .  how would that help?"  Wondering if the old man had    sailed with Captain Danny, thinking that the captain must be a fierce character, visualizing a huge man at a ship's wheel with a full black-bearded face grimacing, he is hearing him in his mind loudly barking commands.    "Neither Captain Danny or the old man would ever cry!" he is remarking when realizing that the captain's voice is sounding like the old man's.  on beach would cry0  "She would feel hurt at my being beat up the way I felt hurt at her being alone."  Dwelling on this while walking, his house is appearing suddenly in his gaze.  and pa home?0    Like an electric bolt the thought is shooting through his body.  maybe . . . not two yet . . . closer to one . . . around midday0    Green hedges–flower-sprinkled  yellow–are visually moving behind him as he is walking up the stone stairway approaching the door, two sets of vertical white frames decorating the wood present in his sight.  Grasping the knob, turning it slowly . . .  <open0    Feeling in his stomach the force of a powerful punch he is slowly pushing the door in, slowly closing it behind him, standing in the livingroom where, to his right, several feet distant, his parents are seated on the sofa in the midst of a heated argument.  Walking past them, quietly approaching his bedroom door . . .  "WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?  WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?"  Opening his bedroom door while not responding to his father, he is walking quickly in closing the door behind him.  Running to his bed, jumping onto it face down, laying there, he is feeling surprise that he has no urge to cry.  Hearing his door opening and slamming closed, his father's harsh voice is sounding loud in his ears.  "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!  DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME TALKING TO YOU?  ANSWER ME!"  An urge to answer is filling Jason but there are no words within him.  "YOU'RE PLAYING GAMES WITH ME?"  Feeling his shirt being clutched from his back and being pulled, causing it to tighten against his chest and belly, he is suddenly being lifted into the air, his father beginning shaking him, then, opening the door, carrying him in this manner to the livingroom.

"What the hell is going on?" he is hearing his mother's voice sounding in his ears with surprise and consternation.  "Frank, we have to leave!" 

"NOT UNTIL I TEACH THIS LITTLE SHIT A LESSON!" he is yelling at his wife while shaking Jason vigorously, suddenly letting him go, allowing him to fall on the floor, the muffled thud of his own body striking the hard surface entering his ears while he is landing on his injured right side, sharp pain shooting through his shoulder.  "Now ANSWER  my question," his father's growling filling his ears.  "What the goddamn hell happened to you?" 

"I got ganged up on," hearing his own answer as a listless whisper.

"You mean you got beat up!  And what did you do to the scumbag that beat you up?"

"There was more than one," he is saying, still lying on his side, fearing that if he sits or stands up his father will hit him.

"You didn't hurt any of them?  You just let them beat you up?  Get the hell back into your bedroom and don't let me see your goddamn face again!"

"Wait," his mother is saying.  "Let me see your head."  He can see her approaching him and standing above him.  "Get the hell on your feet so your mother can look at you," he is hearing his father saying gruffly.  Pushing up with his hands, feeling sharp pain in his right side and shoulder, Jason kneeling is now slowly rising to his feet.  "Make it snappy," his father is commanding.  "We shoulda been outa here five minutes ago!"  Feeling his mother's hand descending on his head, traveling to his back, he is hearing her speaking.  "You've got a cut.  Go shower and wash off the dirt and the blood and then go to bed."  Turning around Jason is beginning walking to his room.  "And make supper later!  We won't be back 'til very late!" her voice's sound following him.

Lying in bed after showering, feeling pain and soreness in his banged up head, his puffy red left eye, in his side where he has been kicked and in his right shoulder where he has fallen due to his father dropping him, he is staring into the clear bright California sky of sunny blue through the unshaded open window.  ?0  "It's good not to cry.  That's being strong, that's defeating my enemies, by not giving in to hurt feelings and baby crying."  0  "Not enough to make me cry!"  Feeling extremely sleepy, struggling against it, his eyes are closing, he sinking into sleep.  Bent fetal-like, lying sideways, staring into the blackness of his closed eyes . . .  ? . . . saturday? . . . where? . . . bedroom? . . . ah . . .0  "Bedroom!  Afternoon nap . . ."  ? . . . can't remember . . . ghouls in white . . . white clothing, white masks0  "Was kidnapped from Ma!"  0  "I remember being so frightened . . ."  0  "A horrible nightmare!"  Opening his eyes . . .  0    Stretching his legs out and his arms downward he is yawning.  Hearing no sound, he is turning resting on his back, a scintillating dot of seemingly transparent blue appearing in his vision.   "Star Friend!" the words are exhaling softly.  "You found me!  You found me!  You found me!" he is crying out the words.  "I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I love you!  I want to go to you and be with you forever!  I don't like it here!  Take me to you my Loving Friend!  Please!  Let me go to you!"  Speaking as the star is gleaming through his window against the backdrop of the darkening evening sky a powerful feeling of goodness and relief is surging through him, soothing him, caressing him, kissing his innermost self so that all of the badness he has been suffering and the powerful goodness he is now experiencing from his Star are blending into one overwhelming sensation.  From deep within a crying is welling up over which he has no control, tears rolling down his face onto his pillow, he crying and crying and crying, seemingly endlessly.  0   

HYPERSPACE

MEETING

Standing in a far corner, his bright blondness distinguishing him and his self-imposed distance removing him from undesired attention, Jason is observing and mentally commenting to himself concerning surrounding occurrences, as constant feelings that he should not be there are impinging.    was up to three packs a day in the navy he'd said0 Watching the boss speaking to several salespeople–holding his cigar, oblivious to the emanating pollution–Jason is recalling his navy friend's comment at the other job: had to quit . . . i couldn't breathe air anymore, never mind     smoke . . .0    Continuing observing the scene before him as his navy friend's voice is trailing off into his memory's recesses . . .  0    "Why are you all alone Jason?  Why don't you have some fun?" a light, pleasant female voice, breaking into his thoughts, is asking.  Turning left slightly, viewing a blonde, pink female form in blue standing before him . . .  0    Beyond her, in small groups throughout the rectangular room, he is observing people milling about. 0    "Are you looking off into the mysterious foggy future?" her soft pleasant voice is playfully asking.

"No!  Actually, I'm looking at the big boss' odoriferous mechanism of atmospheric toxicity."  She is breaking into a gay irrepressible laugh, he smiling.  "You do have a way with words, Jason, don't you?"  Continuing smiling, her womanly appearance is confronting him with her long bright blonde hair descending, strands resting on her ninety-nine percent bare shoulders, large waves streaming in a flow behind her . . .  0  . . . he viewing in her incomparable hazel eyes laughter-born moisture, a penetrating visceral warmth suddenly overwhelming him.  Beaming in his eyes is the lush shining brightness of her astonishing blonde hair warmly blending with her radiant light pinkness, her perfectly womanly shape being revealed in a manner more evocative for its subtlety than for any pretentious flamboyance; in her simple light blue dress, somewhat loose so that it is flowing with her motion or, were it present, with a breeze, but far from billowing; with its two parallel rows of sewed blue and pink flowers running crosswise in waves, the lower row dancing just above the petite fullness of her braless breasts, the upper row flowing across the fabric's edge, at various points petals or leaves virtually kissing her radiant skin; all being lifted by two thread-thin shoulder strings of blue.  Viewing the mostly pink flowers above her girlish  breast–the several of a turquoise hue barely contrasting with the ocean of fabric from which they grow, the lucent calyces of light green allowing her pinkness to filter through–his eyes, wandering slightly down, are not failing to note, to the left and to the right, protruding nipple points clearly defining the fabric.  Nor are they failing to consider, as they are wandering farther downward, the hemline of her dress falling halfway only to her perfectly formed feminine thighs, her shapely legs descending further in his view.  "Why don't we leave here Jason?  Come over to my place where we can talk without all this horrendous racket."  Ossifying the pleasant warmth currently infusing Jason is a sudden chill.  "Where do you live?" his voice sounding distant to him.

"Oh, not far.  In the neighborhood . . . a few blocks, actually."

"Ok," while feeling deeply penetrating knife stabs, his intellectual assessment that he is committing an extremely serious error dominating his thinking even while flashing through his mind is an image of office laughter that he is refusing such an offer, with ensuing questions amongst personnel as to what exactly is wrong with Jason.  "C'mon!" Pat is saying, while with unexpected suddeness she is reaching out grabbing his left hand in her right; he, perceiving a flashing in her eyes, internally freezing. 0    His viscera in turmoil he is feeling her small hand holding his, his vision centering on her perfectly proportioned slim girl's shape as she is beginning walking, he trailing slightly behind, a tiny hand-chain of two blond links wending its way through pockets of people standing or moving about in the center of the large room.  Seeing Tony and Jill in the periphery of his vision to his left, each holding a drink, they waving to him; Jason, turning slightly, mechanically raising his free hand, waving in response . . .? . . . especially tony the macho-man? . . .0   <. . . are they looking and wondering0    Approaching the wide passageway preceding the apartment's entrance, Pat, releasing Jason's hand, is walking to the coat rack against the wall on the left, he watching her slim girlish form, bare arm reaching, small hand of short-cut clear polished nails closing upon a light blue jacket.  As, swirling her jacket around over her shoulders, he is viewing her petit breasts quivering with motion beneath their covering, instantaneously an internal electrical bolt is slamming him, dissipating all mental meanderings.  Turning towards him, smiling, her hazel eyes gleaming in his direction . . .   "Ready?"  . . . her soft friendly tone sounding in his ears seemingly implying much more than mere readiness to leave . . .  "Yup!"   0    . . . he is feeling the entire room's eyes burning into the back of his  neck while she, opening the door, is exiting, he following her into the hallway.  In the hallway he is continuing following her, passing the elevator, the stairway approaching in his sight, now walking down behind her, the minuscule up and down movement of her golden hair (shining in his eyes) duplicating the rhythm of her step-by-step descent, a hypnotic effect transfixing his gaze, his mind, his viscera.  Following in a trance a path being set for him which he has no desire to follow is concerning him on another level of mind while feeling a claw digging into and tightening around his intestines, he placing one foot, then the other, on consecutive steps in what is seeming to him an unending descent of one flight; reaching the mid-landing with a huge square window, top section being swung slightly open jutting into the night, then the ground floor.  Seeing her ahead of him, small hand tightening around the flat steel bar running horizontally across the aluminum framed glass entranceway door, pushing it open, walking into the night, he is following, grabbing the bar and pushing, wondering at her not waiting for him . . .  ?0   . . .  stepping outside, watching her turning around, she  smiling at him with a brightness matching her golden persona.  "Come on," she is saying, feigning a whine.  "You don't want to be up all night, do you?"  Instantaneously transmitting through his neuronal wiring is a powerful electrical shock stunning him into a frozen, almost paralyzed state by his sudden and full awareness of the current situation into which he is stepping, as if into an escape-proof trap, he hating himself for his stupidity, gulping reflexively, the intestinal claw tightening around his viscera.  Walking up to her, the tight claw relentlessly clenching within, they are descending down several concrete steps to the sidewalk.  Turning left, continuing half a block to the corner, turning left again, beginning walking down a semi-lit street, a phalanx of evenly spaced oaks lining the curb paralleling their direction, Jason is feeling a light cool breeze slicing through his blazer cutting his flesh as he is viewing someone speedily approaching through the darkness, drawing near, breaking into the narrow parameter of his sight.  Watching him slithering by like a shadow, seeing the shadow slowing its pace, observing it taking notice of them while continuing walking in their direction, viewing its presence adjacent to Pat, the shadow-become-substance is sweeping his eyes up and down her form whistling and, looking at Jason for less than a second, picking up his speed.  "Lucky bastard," are words ebbing into the darkening evening's silence as Pat's right hand is enclosing around Jason's left.  "C'mon luv.  It ain't gettin' early!"   0    As they are walking down the next block, feeling her small hand in his . . .     0    . . . he is groping for an answer, feeling her girl's flesh in his while turning left at the block's corner.  Walking past two three-family houses, turning into the entrance of the third, he is anticipating that she will lead him up the front stairway.  Wheeling into a narrow side path of polished stone they are standing before a side entrance, he feeling her hand loosening its grip, pulling away, he watching for several seconds as she is groping in her hand bag until, the hand rising with a ring of keys, she pushes one of them into the lock hole.  "Jason, look!"  indicating with her chin that the lock should be the object of his attention, he watching her pulling the key partially out, pushing it in, pulling it out, pushing it in with quick jerking motions.  Looking up at him with a broad smile . . .   "See how easy it is?" she is rhetorically questioning, while in a second gagging is constricting his throat.  With the door swinging open and the lights switching on at the behest of Pat's hand waving over a switch, Jason is dumbly following her into the house.