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The Absolute Height of Perversion
My rumination on an idea for a novel or script…
Individuals are targeted for a pay-per-view scheme that is meant as entertainment for the elite. …They intrude on people’s private lives and allow those wealthy enough to pay an extremely high subscription price, to tune in and watch people struggle for their survival. It is the height and most extreme voyeurism imaginable. This voyeurism including all hours of daily life, hours of sleep, bathroom activities, sexual activities and other moments of intimacy. The methods of technology utilized are hidden cameras, microphones, recording devices, and voice-to-skull technology (V2K as method of torture and provocation). Eventually there is merely one side of the game or the other. …So then, this sick game for ‘enormous’ profit - violating the lives of people of all ages for the perverse pleasures of those subscribing to the channel - becomes the greatest show on earth. …If you can afford to watch it.
Sincerely,
Alan Augustine
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Mary
Winter creeps away
When life should make its entrance
But the Gods are cruel with the play of life
A mother condemned by nature
Her heart is shelter
For the children who love her so
To think of everyone else first
Dresses made for daughters
The constant prayers for a son
A fight
A mother’s love becoming heaven’s light
A grand play of life consumed by a grand nightmare that seeks the stage
But the trellis of love for a mother never breaks
–Alan Augustine
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They are broken
So in turn become one
To snuff out life
This stuff of life
The devil’s plan
To snuff out light
The tree dies by the vine
The shape of death survives
The snake with nothing to wrap itself around
Returns back into the ground
And this girl I knew
She tries to stay beautiful
While being eaten alive
Maybe God created beauty
To be devoured by the snakes and the rodents
Perhaps that was the design
Perhaps that was not the design
How much of my soul do I have left
Before darkness is complete
Enough to pray to God?
That the Devil somehow falters and fails
Loses his grip of life
Enough to escape back into the light
Loses his grip
Of the Magnolia tree
That holds heaven to the earth
It’s pungent white flowers at the crossed streets of life
Standing next to a girl on a piano again
Speaking my mind
Trying to create beauty of all we’ve missed
The devil can’t stand it
The devil can’t stand it
The devil can’t stand it
Beauty can’t be seen
Beauty can’t be left alone
The devil wipes away the memory of each other
So we forget our eyes ever met such beauty
But can’t
It lingers like a faint glow from heaven
We wake
To all the love made
That survives to grow another day
So even as the devil tries
The love we made escapes
–Alan Augustine
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SEIZURES OF FOLLY
When life was fun and strange
It would fade
Set aside in mind
The dream would break
Out the glass doors again
Into the seizures of Folly
How life returns
From near heaven
To a place we’re from
A trembling memory
Of a place of no return
I fall back again and again
Into what is my life
Into the seizures of Folly
–Alan Augustine
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Dear friends,
The following posts are dedicated to hopefully helping me recover my belongings, that were stolen from my storage unit in Los Angeles. My storage unit was basically my life savings, as I’d spent most of my extra money over the years, working as a waiter, on musical and photography gear. I’ve decided to put pictures up on Tumblr, in hopes that someone might recognize some of my things out there somewhere. l’ve also included items that might have been picked through and seen during the burglary, and then maybe mentioned by one of the individuals involved. …There were a number of my black Moleskine notebooks, filled with my literature and prose, as well as a number of blue spiral notebooks with my prose and stories in them, including treatments and ideas for films. Also, were my clippings over a long stretch of years from the Fashion and ‘How to spend it’ sections of the Financial Times (a salmon colored newspaper). They also got away with years and years worth of my Hama Sushi napkins, that I would write prose and lyrics on every Monday evening in Venice Beach. The napkins have the Hama sushi logo printed on them, so they’re easily recognizable. …Dozens and dozens of my DVDs were taken. l’ve also included pictures of many of my books, some that are unique to my fields of study. …I’ve also included pictures of the sunrise, taken from the window of my old apartment building right off the Sunset Strip, that I was harassed out of some years ago. This was a view and a place I called home, that was stolen from me by the same misguided individuals — harassment that has now culminated in their stealing most of my life’s possessions. I eventually ended up back in the complex on Holloway Drive, but in the apartment next to the one I’d had before all the trouble began — that one was lacking the south facing glass slatted window, so it never felt as perfect. And it wasn’t as loved as much by the humming birds who would zip through the open glass slatted windows and out the other windows lightning fast, with their characteristic little noise. And also missing was the quality of light and the sweetness of the breeze. For me, it was the perfect apartment, and I’ve never felt right about living anywhere else, since losing that third floor corner apartment that I loved so much. …It seems it’s always a scheme of displacement and separating you from what you love, which is how some survive. It was what you might call a ‘Once in a lifetime apartment’ for sure, that I definitely would have never left. And as rumor has it, I should expect that these people who’ve intruded so destructively upon my life, to continue the 'false influence game’ that was played on me before; which is after acquiring my material through ill means, they pretend to provide me with what l've already written, in an effort to degrade my credibility as a writer. And it’s a game actually meant to drive someone insane, and not merely played for the sake of laughs. …Now, just to let you know, if anyone comes near me with any of my material that was obtained through illegal means, by way of voyeurism, or hackery, or the break-in of my storage unit — in the guise of a game — the police will be notified immediately! …I’ve lost sentimental possessions, and so many things that took me so long to save for. And I can’t even put a price on having lost more of my writings — any writer would understand how sickening that is. Also, lost to the theft were hundreds and hundreds of my raw photography files, that were on my laptops that were taken. …I guess someone just really needed a more potent dosage to get even higher on torment — as the psychology and perversion of stalking has its progressive stages. So, if anyone has any information about the break-in, I’d appreciate it if you could please get ahold of me, or contact me through the proper channels of authority.
-Alan
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