Destroying Arguments Since 2018.
Brittny, wherever you are, I love you and I would marry you. -ja

Can you help me find her?
Help me find her. I know you can.
Please pray to God in heaven that I meet Brittny.
And I will track her down, wherever she is. And I will make her mine. And she will love me. I swear to you, I will find her.
I will search every corner of this dark, rainy world, and I will find her. I will wander forests and traverse mountains. I will walk through cities and plains, calling her name. I will go through deserts and fields, seeking her. I will hike in the wilderness and survive in dangerous lands, searching for her. I will walk through foreign countries, and I will move through barren wastelands, and watery marshes, and quiet suburbs, and busy, booming cities and urban areas, and scout out every island and every mountain and hilltop and every plateau and every place that people inhabit. And I will find her. I will surf the stormy seas in search for her, and I will fly and scan the skies in search for her, to acquire her, no matter what the weather is, and I swear to you, I will find her. I will find her. I will find her.
Thank you.

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Background music


Short speech -- let's follow Jesus and not restrict our faith



There was a man who lived in the land of _, and in the land of _. And this man's name was ?, and he had long loved a woman whose name was ??. He had dreamt of her, and thought of her, and dwelt on her, and sent her gifts, and sent her loving messages and kind words, and he had attempted advances upon her, but she had after some certain events rejected him.

One day he sent her an email which begged her to give him a second chance, and she read this email and considered it in her heart.

A very long time afterward, ? checked his email one day and found the following email in his inbox, sent from ??:

?, there are so many things I want to tell you.
I know you have loved me for such a long time. And I had wondered why. And now I finally understand. And I am here to tell you, ?, that -- that --
Why is it that you want me? Aren't there people who are better for you? But ?, if you really want me -- I'll give myself to you. I only ask that you protect me and love me.

Find me at the place _ and on the day _ and at the time _. I'll be waiting.

So ? arose and on the appointed day went to the place which ?? had determined, and when he arrived he there found her sitting at a desk, reading a paper.

And when he arrived, she looked up and saw him and greeted him. And thus they departed this life as equals.


Matthew 5 (spanish)

Matthew 6 (spanish)

Matthew 7 (spanish)

Genesis 1 (german)

Love and Knowledge


Chapter 2: Lost

Have you ever felt as if you've had amnesia?
See, when you try to remember what you've said - but like waterdrops that slide off a glass windshield - you forget.

Well, Jonas was experiencing that now.

"Where am I?" Jonas spoke out loud, musing. "Or rather, where was I? ... I seem to recall something... Did something just happen?..."

People were not taking much notice of him and did not seem to think anything strange had just happened.

Jonas thought for a good minute, but was not remembering any more detail. He looked around. Was it Baltimore? Was it Los Angeles? Was it Philadelphia? He vaguely thought he was in the United States.

How do I know that?

Because my brain may have "forgotten" things, but my heart still knows them, his mind replied.

Jonas began to walk toward a tall building, down the street.

People might be able to do things to your physical heart, the organ, and your brain, with drugs and chemicals and surgery, but they cannot destroy your soul. You can have faith, and you can have faith in God.

[I heard dark sayings as I slept on my bed that night. The Spirit was speaking to me.]
[He was saying things to me.]

Jonas gasped and slowly and deeply inhaled. He felt as if this was, to put it poetically, his first breath in several hundred millennia.

He opened his eyes, but could not see.

"Where am I?"

He saw shrouds, shadows, and dark shadows and shapes moving around from what seemed to be just beyond his vision.

And then he perceived a voice speaking with him, but he did not hear it with his physical ears nor see it with his physical eyes.

But he heard it with his spiritual ears, and he saw it with his spiritual eyes.

Jonas, your time has come.

But what am I to do? And what of my hopes, and dreams, and my long-awaited hope? What of me?

The Spirit was judging.

If you really want her -

I do.

- Then I will give her to you. But not immediately, but in time.

But there is something else, something more urgent.
Your time has come.

What do you mean?

[He showed me a face.]

Is this me?

Spirit: Look again.

I looked again, and to my horror, it had transformed into a grotesque face full of plastic tubes and metal wires hooked up to a machine, barely alive, struggling for each breath, clearly dying.

Spirit: Is this who you want to be?

Jonas: No! What is that? Who is that? Why is he so - almost dead?

Spirit: This is the future if you disobey me.

Jonas: How? What do you mean? How?

Spirit: It has to do with how you'll die.

There is a flash of light and Jonas wakes up. His legs are still walking toward the hospital.

Jonas: I'm here.      ...(pause)...   Why do I feel - strange?

Jonas pauses, and then enters the hospital.

Jonas: I need to be here, but why?

Jonas walks to the front desk.

Receptionist: May I help you?

Jonas: I need to be here, but I don't know why. Can you tell me ... ?

Receptionist: Amnesia?

Jonas (startled for a moment): Wha - wait, what did you say?

Receptionist (looking down at a list of names on a sheet of paper): You're supposed to be on floor negative 2 in the psychiatric unit. Max will escort you down. (A bulky security guard appears.) Good luck!


Chapter 3 to follow....

Chapter 1

There was, a long time ago, a man who lived in the forest. And his name was Jonas. Jonas was collecting mushrooms for eating, because he taught himself through careful and controlled experimentation which mushrooms one could eat, which mushrooms were poisonous, and which mushrooms induced hallucinations - when all of a sudden he heard a noise.

He paused and looked up from picking a bright-green mushroom. "Who goes there?" he called warily. "Who was that?"

There was silence for a few seconds. The sky was a deep indigo, and the moon was a waxing crescent. Jonas guessed it was roughly 9:20 pm. And what was today? It was nearing Christmas; maybe around December 17th; there was snow on the ground... soon it might be snowing...

All of a sudden his thoughts were disturbed by the sound of more snapping, like snapping twigs, and he suddenly saw a great white light approaching his enclosure, his encampment, his glade, his forest clearing. From outside the dense barrier of hemlock trees that surrounded his glen. He paused for a moment and then rushed into action - he put out the fire, he threw his threaded sandals into his tent with his parchments and firewood, he gathered his spare mushrooms and the bright green mushroom into his pockets, and he jumped out of the clearing into the wall of hemlock trees, and jumped behind a thick hemlock tree, which was wide enough to conceal a human, just as this shining white light entered this clearing which he had just vacated.

Spirit: Jonas, where are you?

[Jonas says nothing but watches the Ghost in fear as it searches the clearing and probes the material of the campsite that he left behind.]

Spirit: Jonas, where are you?

[Jonas says nothing, but he watches the Ghost as it finds the tent he vacated and he watches the Ghost enter his vacated tent.]

Spirit: Ah, I know where you are.

Jonas gasps as an unseen force propels him back into the clearing, at the Ghost's feet.

Jonas: (struggling for breath) - Who - are - you? (wheezes and coughs)

Spirit: I am come for you.

[Jonas remains lying on the ground, coughing and spluttering as if his insides were on fire.]

Jonas: Why me?

Spirit: You don't belong in this forest anymore.

Jonas: Where, then?

Spirit: Beyond.

[Jonas is teleported to an area away from the forest and into a bustling city with honking cars, shouting people, and flashing streetlights and yelling police officers, and with tall, shining skyscrapers and with intimidating buildings and hospitals and both good and bad people. It is shining midday.]

[Jonas turns to talk to the Spirit, but it has gone. It has deposited him here.]


Chapter Two to follow...


Many years ago there was an old man who lived in the middle of a forest. No one knew if he was still alive, and rumor had it that if someone happened to come across his path, that person he would invite into his shack for a cup of tea, and would never be seen again.

Yoshimitsu was twenty-seven years old and very fit. He had a defined abdomen and often walked about with no shirt.
"I can find that old man and kill him," he bragged to the others in the village. "I won't let him make me disappear."

So Yoshimitsu packed his sword, his knife, his waterbottle, and a pistol, and he set out into the middle of the forest with the blessings of the elders of the village.

But as he walked, he found that the atmosphere was growing dimmer and dimmer and the air was becoming thicker and thicker. The trees seemed to groan and lean into where he was standing or walking, and he suddenly heard a deep, sighing voice emit from above the canopy:

"Yoshimitsu, is that you? Why are you seeking me?"

Yoshimitsu was taken aback, but he was not one who was easily frightened, and so he called to the voice which he could not see, above the canopy of the trees: "I'm here to kill you, old man, and find out what you've done with all those innocent, precious souls who have gone away."

Yoshimitsu waited, and there was silence for about seven seconds, and then there was a very faint tremor of the shaking of the leaves of the trees, and with it, a faint sound of laughter, of someone who was shouting and laughing in hilarity, which grew in volume and intensity until the trees were vibrating and leaves were shaking and falling and the earth was quaking and the air as well as Yoshimitsu's ears were filled with the sound of the old man's jeering laughter.

"You think you can kill me, young man? Very well: Come to my shack and I'll put you to the test, to see if you're made of anything or not."

So the fog disappeared, and Yoshimitsu was left alone. He was shaken, but he took a deep breath and calmed himself, and continued his journey, walking deep into the middle of the forest.

By and by he came to an enclosure with a little wooden hut in the center, and a chimney of stone, with smoke coming out of the top. He strode up to the doorstep and knocked three times, and after waiting for about twenty seconds, he was about to walk back and look for another way inside the hut, when the door slowly -- slowly -- slowly creaked open, and what Yoshimitsu saw inside made his guts squirm and made him scream with fear so loudly that he wished he had never, never, never challenged the old man and never gone into the forest in the first place and never bragged to the villagers about how he could kill the old man. What Yoshimitsu saw filled him with so much and such terror that it would forever haunt his dreams at night, and it would forever blind his mind during the day, and he would become a nutcase, and he would become mad.

Yoshimitsu saw hell.


From June 27, 2019

She sang as a bird

She sang as a bird -
I said, C sharp.
And she sang melodious words -
Like a kiss on my heart -

And she looked at me with a gaze which entered my soul -
And she cried with me with such pain that weathered my scroll -
Brittny, a woman whose voice is the tinkling of myriads of silver bells -
Your voice contains the beauty of a thousand shining silver wind chimes -
Your eyes like pure doves - your hair like a radiant garment of silk -
Your body which is so tender, beautiful, fragile, and delicate - your skin like milk -
And your hair black like a raven in the night of judgment, darkness, and woe -
Your dark hair shining with hope -
Your voice unique as a crystal mirror with seven golden notes and made of seven rare stones -
Please look at me again, and say to me, that you love me.
I know you know my name.
Please tell me - please tell me - please tell me - that -
You love me.
Your spirit resides inside my soul -
And for all the misty, magical despairs told -
And for all the quiet, weeping hearts searching for gold -
And for all the frustration, confusion and despair in the world -
I know that you are somewhere here -
Somewhere here -
Somewhere here -
Give me a chance.
Open your heart to me.
Give me your love.
You are the only one - to me.
Look into my eyes and look into my soul
And see all the sleeping sadness and the sleeping woes and the sleeping, loving thoughts I have had -
Of you -
And all the gorgeous, terrible love I have had -
For you -
And all the passionate, quiet, consuming passion-fire I have had -
For you -

For you -

For you -

And kiss me every day and every night.
Don't let me go -- out of your sight.
I won't let you leave -- my holy habitation -
Because, Brittny -- I hope you won't want to.

I'll be your protector, I'll be your shield -
Just be my subjected, and be my field -
Be my garden and be my young plant -
Be my beloved and be my continual chant -
Be my Brittny, be my desire -
Be my quickening, be my passionfire -

Be her who kisses me on the lips -
And says, "Well done! my beautiful husband," -
Be her who righteously gives me a hug -
And weeps her heart into my shoulder and soul -

When I see you every day -
When I see you every day -
When I see you every day -
I know -
And I know -
And I know -
And I know -
And I know -
And I know -
That you -
Brittny -
Are There.

From June 27, 2019

Just tell me one thing

Just tell me one thing.
Are you with me or not?
Because when you wear bling
Your heart shines [too] -- with five hundred watts ...

And when I hear your voice through spiritual space -
And when I kiss you through the air -
I feel and have a glimpse of your grace -
And keenly perceive - your sweetness so fair -

I slept in the dark - not knowing my place -
Feeling my way - through mansions and fate -
I sensed your presence - residing in an empty plaza.

And I walked up to you and I tried to touch your pale face -
But my hand simply swept through your palatable pate -
And a blue tear trickled down your white cheek -
and you fell into my bosom and entered my heart -

I search for you everywhere -
From the depths of the ocean to the top of the skies -
I know where you are, and I know where you'll die -
Forever be free, forever be mine -
Brittny to be, Brittny to fly -
Brittny to be, Brittny - be mine.

Bizarre Bazaar.

Chapter One.

I was walking in a desert place. My name is Boris. Just call me Boris.
So yes, I was walking in a desert place, and the land was flat, all around me: And a dust storm was beginning to brew.
The sun was dimly shining a yellow hue down upon me, and the ground upon which I trod was sometimes of cement and sometimes of dried earth.
I had been going for several hours, and all of a sudden a shop front appeared in my view, underneath a rocky crag, hidden previously.
It was a closed-air bazaar, and a door beckoned, metaphorically.
The title of this store which I could see, hung in a dusty poster with the letters written in large black Sharpie marker, were:

Serpent's Emporium

Curiously, I approached the door.
The wind was blowing stronger; I estimated a current seventeen miles-per-hour south-blowing wind.
The reddish-orangish dust was really kicking up into clods and clouds from the flat land, and I was suddenly finding it rather difficult to breathe.
I hustled into the storefront, which offered a sandy, grubby aerial awning that provided some protection from this clogging dust, that once may have been white, and for which I was grateful, and I pressed my eyes to the glass on the door's dusty, small, vertical window, which was imbibed with black crosshatches.
Through the dust and the hatch lines I could see a dim, naked lightbulb hanging from a string, illuminating a sphere of small radius around it, and in this orb of light I could discern stacks of plywood, cans of WD-40 next to a large shelf that seemed to be holding variously shaped darkened objects, and small metal cans of what I thought might be dog food stacked on the ground next to the WD-40 cans.

I removed my eyes from the glass window, but as I did so I thought I caught sight of some black-cloaked figure that slipped out from behind the large shelf on the left and disappeared to the right, into an internal eclipse, cast by these apparently numerous objects and the clutter inside this store-hut, that is, this "bizarre bazaar."

I hastily pressed my eyes back to the glass, my heart of-a-sudden thumping fast and hard, but I saw nothing that had appeared to change, and no sudden movement, but the identical scene I had seen before this.
I inhaled slowly and exhaled, thinking in my mind that I had possibly imagined this phenomenon due to the dust I had inhaled and my brain's longing for rest.

I was more intrigued, though, and to top it off, my stomach was crying for food, and my tongue for water.
I decided to take a gamble and go inside.

I pulled on the metal handle, but the door merely budged a little bit.
It would not fully open.
I groaned.

"What do I do?"

I examined the handle and the matter around it.
The handle was stuck in a metallic plate, which appeared specifically to be of titanium.
Why would such a valuable metal be used for the door of this cheap outlet? The handle was of the same metal, and below the handle there was both a keylock and a padlock.
I frowned.
This seemed like high security for such a remote market.

I did not have a key, but I could resort to try to pick the lock.
But, I supposed, it made sense to try the padlock first.
A key was operated mechanically, and so if the padlock opened the door as the key did, then if the padlock eventually locked me out for a timespan, I could then try to pick the keylock, unless there also was an electronic security defense measure.
I hoped that it was not necessary to have both the key and passcode, but only one of them.

I scrutinized the padlock.
There was the normal layout, 0 through 9, and, oddly, a key that, rather than saying 'Enter', had printed on its surface five characters, all in lowercase: 'jimmy'.
I took this to mean to 'jimmy', as in to force or pry open a door with a crowbar, rather than a man's name.
There were also four extra buttons with squiggly symbols on them.
Two of them looked like arabic characters of some sort, خ and ي, one looked like a long hyphen, ― , and one that looked like with a circle with a hyphen inside it, Θ.
I was dismayed to see that there was no display, so I had no clue in that regard, as to how long the passcode might be.
Furthermore, it appeared that the buttons were not backlit, and so I could not be sure if the entire mechanism was still working, that is, if it had a battery, if the battery had died, or if it were malfunctioning, or even if it were a decoy and fake altogether.

I pressed the 0 button experimentally.
The numbers 0 through 9 were in a typeface that reminded me of Wide Latin, and in a dark-greenish font color, almost black.

The button depressed by about a centimeter and popped back out with no mechanical or electronic noise or indication that the device had received my input.
I began to doubt that it was working at all. I pressed the 1, then the 2, then the 3, and then pressed the cryptic 'jimmy' button.

The device reacted abruptly.
To my fright, a loud alarum began to wail from inside the shop building.
It was a stentorian call, a siren (my mind automatically placed it as a tone in the key of F, that is, approximately 349 hertz) that reminded me of the timbre of an emergency ambulance vehicle, except this tone was continuous and solid, albeit muffled from through the titanium door.

I was frozen by shock for a moment, and then I gasped and hurled my body away from the door, back into the dust storm.
By this time the sun was beginning to set and it was getting dark outside, the red dust was flying about and it was getting hard to see, and it was already hard to breathe.
I crept around the side of the building and hunched over behind a barrel labeled 'Swine Cellulose', and bided my time.

The blaring noise went on from that point for about five seconds more, and then unexpectedly ceased.
My heart was beating up a storm, and I breathed in and out deeply six times to calm myself.
I listened.

No footsteps.
No voices.
In fact, all seemed as it were before.
Yet that cloaked figure was haunting the back of my mind.

I crept along the side of the building again (this side was made of brick), and I peered around the corner.
No change.
My stomach suddenly panged with hunger, and my tongue was swollen.
I gasped and crept quickly back to the door.
I grimaced and gritted my teeth.
If the alarum bell went off, it went off.
At least someone might answer, in which case I could beg for food and drink.
I had to do something.

I knelt down onto my knees and tried all the numerical four-digit combinations with the repeating digits four times.
0000, 1111, 2222, 3333, and so forth.
Ten times total.
The entire process took me perhaps ten seconds, and the alarm bell activated on 0000, but only ended bawling around two seconds before my last input, 9999.

I frowned in the dusty wind. What could help me solve this?
Well, the weird squiggles were probably in the passcode.
But there had to be some clues.
I looked back to the signpost in front of the building.

Crabapple Forestry, Inc.
870 Merry Circle Drive
(Uncharted Micronesian Isle)

Well, we had a number.
I rushed back to the keypad and typed eight-seven-zero and pressed 'jimmy'.
I was rewarded with eight seconds of blare, but this time I instinctively knew something was different.
Something... the pitch.
The pitch was slightly higher.
This alarm was in the key of G.
392 Hertz.
Yes, there definitely was a difference.
I pulled hard on the titanium handle again.
Again, the door budged very slightly and did not yield further.
I slammed the door with both palms.
Nothing but a dull thud, which echoed dimly inside the edifice.

My stomach curled unpleasantly, as if it knew I were being watched.
Nevertheless, I ran back to the sign to inspect for more clues.

I scanned the phrasing closely.

Crabapple Forestry, Inc.
870 Merry Circle Drive
(Uncharted Micronesian Isle)

What else could it be?
I could try it backwards, 078.
Or any of the permutations, that is, 3*2*1 == 6 permutations...

I suddenly had a vision.
The moon was coming out behind dust-clouds and water-clouds, and a chink of pure moonlight in the form of a diagonal beam of reflected incandescence streaked down to meet me and impacted upon the wooden sign... The light fell upon one character, and all the rest of the sign went dark...

There was a horizontal line in the zero in the 870, in 870 Merry Circle Drive...

87Θ Merry Circle Drive...

as soon as I had understood and comprehended this fact, the light-path slid horizontally across the wooden signpost to another character...

Something was different about the capital 'C' in Circle...

87Θ Merry خircle Drive...

Again I understood this fact, and as soon as I had I understood it, the light patch slid to a final location on the signpost..


Then all of a sudden, the light twinkled out and I took a deep, sudden breath, as though jarred awake.
I was standing in front of the signpost.
It was now completely dark.
The dust was still blowing, and the wind.
Had I fallen asleep?

And yet this memory, this vision, was deeply ingrained in my mind; it was a clear, vivid image, imprinted in my mind.

I strode over to the keypad and typed in:


I then pressed 'jimmy', slowly and in a surreal manner, as if in a dream.

To my amazement, the entire keypad glowed with a bright-green backlight, keys and all, in the form of a wave, from left to right.

No alarum went off, and I knew I had succeeded.

I lifted a dreamy, insubstantial, wavering right hand and grabbed the door handle and pulled on it.

It budged a little bit and again did not yield fully.

What should I do? I thought, but my heart already knew this answer.

I set myself into a defensive martial stance, lifted my front leg and snapped it in a standing front kick.

The titanium door crumpled like feta cheese, and fell backward into the darkness of the tienda.

I heard no slamming which would have signified it had hit a bottom.

The darkness was whispering around, tangibly wisping around, reaching out of the tienda, feeling its way outside into this fresh, new, strange, unfamiliar and unknown environment, and all of a sudden a black arm reached out, like a sticky, dark substance, and took the form of a morphed, mutated, creepy human arm with fingers, and gradually reached for my heart, trying not to be noticed by me. It was stretching, stretching itself thin.

I watched it, and I watched it get closer.
But just before it touched me, it suddenly contorted and bent out of its surreal shape, and then began to writhe and roll, becoming distorted and mutated and misshapen, as if it were experiencing a horrible, excruciating pain.
It suddenly emitted a loud, piercing, inhuman and supernatural shriek and then dissipated into the sky, first losing its dark, black opacity, to a substance that began to become transparent, and then more transparent, weak, almost grayscale, and then suddenly it fizzled and became white as foaming, crashing, rolling water, and then it sparkled and exploded into complete, real and true water, which flew up into the heavens above.

This monstrous beast had disappeared.

I now slowly proceeded into this demented tienda, wondering what secrets it yet held for me.

A Story.

Endless streams of water poured down my cheeks. I woke to darkness and fell asleep to rolling, uncomfortable, restless, dark-moving shadows and endless rollings of anguish.

The days became nights for me. The nights became excruciatingly long and painful ordeals of sorrow.

My brain was destroyed, my body withered, my mind decayed, my feelings imploded and broken and exploded and unfeeling and trashed and destroyed, my thoughts ablaze and amiss and one hundred miles per hour, and then zero miles per hour.

My feelings, emotions and deeper stirrings were of deep sorrow. My eyes were blank and empty. My tears were crystallized, and my mind dead. I could not sleep. Food held no pleasure for me. Water could not quench my thirst. My insides were burning. My heart and limbs were dead. My sides were aflame. Every day and every night were excruciating, were torture.

The songs I sang were of insanity, and every night I cried out, Why. And I was alone. I just want to know why.

Your ip:

There was a little city, and few men within it;
and there came a great king against it, and besieged it,
and built great bulwarks against it:
Now there was found in it a poor wise man,
and he by his wisdom delivered the city;
yet no man remembered that same poor man.

Then said I, Wisdom is better than strength:
nevertheless the poor man's wisdom is despised,
and his words are not heard.

The words of wise men are heard in quiet
more than the cry of him that ruleth among fools.

Wisdom is better than weapons of war:
but one sinner destroyeth much good.

Send me a message.