[It] was meant to be a complement, veracity and style, so well done.

Well, thank you. I'm so used to being abused by Jackstar I assumed the worst.

While it'll do me nothing but a disservice to pooh-pooh your claims, I peculiarly enough, admire your attempt to breadcrumb me. I just might admire your ideas enough to subscribe to that newsletter. All gaslighting aside, identities do err on the side of porous, rather than opaque. You think the government gives a damn about a crochet club? The all caps is no mistake. No cap. I don't think you've learnt the difference between locker room talk and water cooler conversation. People feel you come on too strong. They can't keep up with the manic rambling. And fortunately enough for you, they can't tell what a danger you are to society. Pacifist my ass! You are the Great Destroyer. Now let me get to the matter of this satanic birdlife. Have you been a wayfarer all your life? Or is it just that every motor vehicle you've ever owned was impounded? Enough with the rhetorical questions, Azzerae; settle down. I didn't lie to you by omission. In fact, that woman lied to me. You really need to get over this. Your vitriolic rants against my character I have tolerated in a Christlike fashion. The two-by-four was a different matter entirely. I don't know why it is that you feel you should be privy to classified information. Like, who are you, bro? Let's not pretend this is our first rodeo. The truth is there's a major, ongoing media blackout on the elephant in the room. And while Father Time doesn't always play fair, karmic repercussion seems pretty on the nose (to me, anyway). If all you wanted was a Pepsi, perhaps it'd have been a good idea not to have nickel and dimed the corner store to the point of you strong-arming them into submission. It should've been called armed robbery, exortion, or grand larceny. There's things I knew but was too flattened out on psychiatric drugs to think to share. But: does the punishment fit the crime? You'd be better off sipping Piña Colada's in the sun with a copy of Dostoevsky's Penguin classics than whatever it is you think you're doing by living in a fucked-off haunted church, and sleeping on that sadness mattress. So many things that occur to neurotypicals don't seem to occur to your neurodivergent mind. But that's not the next guy's problem - or business - unless you make it their business. I can't see why getting police involved ever did anyone any ounce of good at any time on any timeline. But here we are. You say I've been relentlessly involved in your life on what's bordering on a sociopathic level. But you and I cut ties many moons ago, so what exactly are you trying to blame me for? Do you need a body, any body, to drag, in order to seem relevant? Try glomming on to someone else, and blaming them for your problems, and see if that goes over any more well than a lead balloon. I've been incredibly patient, tolerant and kind. But the time for tolerance is no more. If you're going to blame me for all the things that go wrong in your life, at least make the story believable and/or compelling. I tire of this treadmill with no end in sight when it comes to you and the aspersions you cast. Well. Not really. But I kinda like giving you the impression you have one up over me. As I sit here in my comfortable, cosy home, on this African winter's night, I relive all the good times we had together. Like the time you put that curse on me; or wished I'd have a heart attack when I was in the throes of COVID-19. Those were some fucking salad days, indeed. I think it also needs to be said that not everyone seems to "get" it. But it's okay. Because I do. I seem to think that your asking me not to share and subscribe to your content, not to contact you at paladinjackstar@gmail.com, not to send you money on Cash App, and not to let you know what I think in the comments section is all a ruse. You really want those things. I know, you're gonna tell me you eschew wants. But that's just it. This is all a trap. A game. The theatre of the mind. But I see right through the lies you invent, and my patience, although saintly, has worn thin. I presume this is something you're sure to salivate over. But a man with patience such as mine, you're certain to never find again. It's no coincidence that the stars say what they say. That the Tarot reads as it does. One last thing I'll say is that you did indeed open the wine, ahead of time. That was a gift, God damn it. And you were supposed to cook with it.

Oh and you wanted somebody to talk about DMT no I don't think I'm going to talk about anything with most of you, and why would I talk about something that is extraordinarily illegal and dangerous and something that you don't really know anything about, every single one of you here fucking doesn't know your shit...

Attacking Laser for bringing a question of substance to the fore is a bad look.

You know what you need? A to-do list. It might help you keep track of all the beings who want you dead and the satanic birdlife you've kidnapped.

I imagined a list in my head:

1. Perform voodoo ritual on evil owl.
2. Find out who sold us out to the anachronistic Caste vampires.
3. Make amends with a lesbian werewolf.
4. Rescue twin.
5. Murder grandmother.

Not sure whether to laugh or cry?

Suit yourself, but don't come crying to me if you forget who you're supposed to kill when.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RqTOYtN5cIs

Hey, I just flew in. How about that? I've tried with you, I really have. Is this your heta-uma phase? Because I highly doubt it's your final form.

Your framing device makes Synecdoche, New York look like child's play. This psychological drama tends to unravel in the strangest of ways. They might not know this, but he considers himself a bit of a loner. He tends to think of himself as a "one-man wolf pack." [pulls out a box of smokes]

'Would you like one?'
'Don't mind if I do.'

They did a couple lines off the cistern. But don't mine that, it's just another day in a life occupied with opulence. Soaked, like a rusk in the tea. Rinsed, like a hose in the Summer.

He doesn't seem to have any idea that the enemies he's pursuing are invisible. Would I go as far as to say they're constructions of his mind? Let's get down to brass tacks, buddy.

I see what you did there. And I remain unimpressed. Sorry not sorry. But I'll be Goddamned if I'm blamed for things I'd have no business doing. Remember: they crucified Christ, after Pontius Pilate washed his hands of the deed. Did it leave a stain on his soul?

I'll borrow a phrase from Sir Ahmed Salman Rushdie, and say you are a stupid. You cannot be saved from yourself. Oh? Would you like to do a spot of birding, all of a sardine? I see you got laughed off panel once again last night (dawn here).

Why the long face, horsey? A guy walks into a bar, with a hundred Dollar bill, on a crack binge. Oh, you thought it was a joke? No. That's what you're trying to make them think I am, and the time for tolerance has come and past. Intolerance begins now.

Eric Stone wouldn't stand for this. Not even if it had legs. Jack, you need to figure out what you're gonna do with your life. Before it flashes across your psyche and it's lights out. You think I want you falling asleep in a bath tub on H? Think again.

Why is it, that every Tom, Dick & Harry that tries to help you gets kicked in the teef? Ptooie, ptooie! CUT. I think we'll have to change camera angles.

Why do I keep you here, in this Oubliette? Like the Indian in the cupboard. This miniature theatre, this ... this ... Hell? Well, if you realised— the bird cage has been open this whole time. And you were too caught up in singing your tune to notice, maybe?

I'll have nothing to do with it. It isn't of my concern. Clickety-clank, clickety-clank, the money goes in to my Piggy Bank.

But that's not even an excuse anymore. It's all free. Who's gonna piss away a Dollar on shit, anyhow, er, way? Just who do you think you are? When the gauntlet gets thrown down, who's going to really hold you and tell you it's going to be okay? Who's going to drive you home? Who's going to tell you when it's too late? Drive.

Oh wait. No car. We seem to be in a similar pickle here. And the pickle stacker doxxed himself. We all saw the fat hand on the steering wheel in the camera. You are the kind of intellectual peer I always dreamt I'd have, but he never came. Until now, that is.

If you get out of your own way, so much is waiting for you on the other side. And yet the only exciting life is the imaginary one. You've established a frightening reputation, but, people have failed to back off from you. Treat you with respect and a little fear? Is that what this is supposed to do?

Even if it is full of love, all a ghost can do is haunt. The seats are empty. The theatre is dark. Why do you keep acting? The truth is, you were interested in everything and committed to nothing.

See, the most dangerous kind of control is the one that feels like freedom. You chose it. You agreed. You stayed. No one forced you. That's why it works, because you'll never admit you were played. You'll just call it fate and move on. But, do you call it fate and move on?

The questions are infinite, but our time here is not. When's Powr Mastrs #4 coming out? Oh, C.F. took the advance and ran. He put out an ashcan edition, but that was just cheap xerox priced as high art.

You don't know what I'm talking about. You see my lips moving, but you fail to comprehend the agree-upon meaning, because, frankly, you're dazed and confused.

Don't let them steal your light, Jack. It's all you got left.

You got to burn to shine— right?