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ANDROMEDA JUBILEE 1999
Morning brings scattered rays of the sun, by the crown
of the Earth picked up for the dawn, to look beautiful, and made the life of
man a tale of passion, a music of the brain. Eyes open, sitting on a hill,
beneath an olive tree as old as Crete’s White Mountains, far away, along the
waves of the Mediterranean Sea, the gods and the heroes, echoes of drums and
smokes of wars, the world, a battlefield. Life is a book, lines written with
blood, blood on fire, blood infected, sweet oranges’ blood, blood exhausted,
blood dying, blood in love, blood in boredom, blood on Power, blue blood, evil
blood, demon blood, angel blood, the blood of the gods and the blood of men,
the board is on the table, the pawns are ready, the players are gathering, God
versus Death, Civilization versus Hell, who would win the match? An eagle, a
dove, a vulture, the smell of blood, the taste of the smoke, the sound of the
dead, a world walking the path of the mad dog, a universe dancing the last
waltz of the damned. Observe the march of the centuries upon the waves of the
sea, the arrow never miss the target, an empire is gone, two empires are gone,
three empires are gone, four, five, six, seven … still so, men struggle to
build another empire. Those fools! Abel will not kneel this time before Cain,
Abel will not this time let himself be killed. The time of Innocence is gone.
Innocence is a crime.
I met him just an hour before he hanged himself, the
poor fellow. I could not heal his heart. Some things can be done, some things
got to happen. The Dawn keeps coming, the light keeps shining. Men keep
struggling to build empires.
I love Old Spain in Winter. I spent the time right
after coming from America doing the round of the old Spanish northern cities,
Burgos, Toledo, Palencia, Avila, Santiago de Compostela,
Zaragoza, Vitoria. It is cold, but dry. Old those cities have great Public
Libraries, and basking was easy. Playing just a couple of hours I could pay me
the room, the meal, and the pub. Then, pass the day in the Library.
I knew my time had not come yet. I was in no position
to force it. I had no home of my own, no profession, but my guitar and my
working for the farmers, hard work, but ain’t skill
needed. I didn’t feel like picking olives that year, or going to Greece to work
in the farms. I wanted to do the round of Old Spain and feed my brain; I had
been the last past, long years without reading a book.
The tree of intelligence need the water of knowledge
to keep growing and healthy. The Libraries were empty in the morning, all the
books for me. I had learned to concentrate my reading in very determined books,
you can’t read everything, life is short and books are too many, choose the
best, the kind you need, and among them the ones taking a deeper look on the
subject. It doesn’t matter if you don’t understand the equations, all you need
is the conclusions. I don’t mind how the guy did it, to arrive to that
conclusion. I don’t need to follow the entire process. Give me the conclusion.
This is the only way to read a good book on Molecular Physics, Dynamic Geology,
or Radio-Astronomy. You got to stick to the conclusions, leave for the student
who has to pass the exam to learn how to reproduce the entire process. I work
for nobody. Don’t want to get me an observatory, I had eyes, and intelligence
to build my own conclusions.
The tree of intelligence is like any other tree, if
you water it, it brings fruit. I had the key of the Creation Science’s Door. I
wanted to get in again, take one more a look at the Universe.
At the end of the winter my conclusions were made. The
Old Cosmology, the XXTH Century Cosmology, is an absurdity, a castle on the
air, a cathedral build on bricks without substance. There is a master-stone,
take it out, the entire building will collapse.
From the point of view of a stranger to God to find
that needle in the barn it was an impossible mission. But I’m not stranger to
God, I’m one of His sons. Yes, I’m born here, on Earth, so what? Take it like
this, because I’m born on Earth I have all the Right to know the secrets of my
Universe. Am I not right?
You don’t need to be an Einstein to follow my
conclusion. As a matter of fact the Classics were right. The Universe, our
Milky Way, don’t turn around one common center. The entire vault of the heavens
turning around like a donkey going round and round the stone mill, that’s
stupid, that is not scientific, that is not Science.
You have only to go back to the Egyptian Calendar, for
instance.
Whether the Egyptian astrologers were idiots or not,
it is not the question. The thing is that thanks to them we know that the stars
in the sky have been keeping their actual positions from the very beginning of
the Civilization.
Now, if the Milky Way, our Universe, is making the
circle, that fixed positions of the stars through the millennia, it should be a
lie. Will you deny that the Constellations have been keeping their positions in
the sky ever since Mankind can remember?
If you say yes, then, there is no way to admit the
XXTH Century Cosmology, as least that you are an idiot.
If you say no, then you are doubly an idiot, because
the Constellations have been keeping their posts in the sky from the beginnings
of Civilization.
To add strength to my conclusive power I bring before
you the genetic code of navigation of the migratory birds. Birds had no
machines to lead them from Pole North to Pole South. They are born with a
genetic map of orientation to fly from North to South, and vice versa, based in
the relation Heavens-Earth. This Navigation Map has been written in the Genetic
Code of the Migratory Birds during a time equal to geological Eras.
I will not enter in discussion, of course. I’m too far
away from anybody’s way of thinking to waste my time in monkey talk. So you
see, the stars in the sky have been keeping their actual positions millennium
after millennium. This is to say, to cut short this journey, a man from Egypt
in the year three thousand before Christ, he saw in the sky the same
constellational map we see five thousand years after.
You may ask yourself, why Astronomers, genial brains
as they claim to have, and at their service the greatest telescope ever Mankind
had, do not accept this simple fact?
Well, I will not enter in criticism right now, and
probably I will not whenever. Astronomers do not Astronomy. The guys in those
wonder Merlin Towers we call Observatories, work for the War Military
Industries and the Communications Global System. If you do not realize this
simple fact, what can I tell you?
Anyway, for a Natural Astronomy based in Geometry and
Local Physics, if all the stars were circling around a universal center, to
keep the stars their positions in the sky, in the way they have been doing it
for the past geological eras, the stars would be subjected to a multiplication
of their velocity according to the distance to that common center, the farther
from the center the higher the velocity. This is a simple statement from a
standing point of view of Geometry, which it was the standing point the
Classics took.
To figure out this natural vision get paper and pen,
draw a series of circles around a common center. Mark some point on each
circle. Make them spin around all at the same time, all of them at the same
speed. What do you observe?
You will observe that the marks in the circle closer
to the common center do three rounds while the circle three times farther do
only one. Right? And so on and so forth.
But you want that the entire picture remains equal to
the situation in statics. It is obvious that to reach this harmony you got to
individualize each circle’s speed, and multiply the speed of each circle
according the distances. This way the third circle got to fly at three times
the speed of the first circle, and so son and so forth.
If you had, let’s say, one hundred circles, this means
that the one which occupies the one hundred cposition,
will fly one hundred times faster than the circle number one, which is the
closest to the common center. This is the only way you will preserve their
structures independently of their positions.
Now, if we change the marks for stars this will mean
that, in the whole, the background of the Milky Way got to be a wall of light.
This is not so. Ergo, the Classics, thinking in Geometry key, thought that the
Universe is statics.
They were wrong. And they were right.
The XXTH Century Cosmology is wrong and wrong and
wrong. There is not a single piece of truth in the Modern Astronomy Model of
the Universe. Our Milky Way do not turn around a universal common center. The
Stars in the Milky Way are gathered in Molecular Fields, Star Clusters, and the
stars members moved around a local common center, causing in the whole, the
global star cluster system, that effect of a Static Universe observed by the
Classics.
Apply this single master key to the real heavens as it
is out there, forget as it is in the books, configure the reality from the
Average Velocity of the System of the Universe, and you will realize my
conclusion. Our Universe behaves like a Solid. The star clusters are the
molecules in that solid. And the Universal Gravitational Field is the Atomic
Force bridging the molecules to create Matter.
From this Poli-Molecular
Star Cluster Structure we understand the Creation of the Genetic Code of
Navigation of the Migratory Birds, and the Calendar of the Egyptians based in
the constancy of the presence of Sirius in the sky.
The absurdity by the Dictatorial Modern Astronomy
imposed on the Colleges and Universities, led to another absurdity. The Milky
Way as the Center of the Local Group. It is more than obvious, from the
observation of the Configuration of the Local Group as it is on the table
before our eyes, that Andromeda, the larger and heaviest Mass in the Area, is
the Center of the Local Group.
It is a rule in Natural Physics that the heaviest
body, by the relation Matter-Energy, tends to occupy the Center of the area all
around its body. It will be an absurdity that the Earth were the center of the
Solar System. And yet, the Sun occupies the Center exclusively because its
Mass.
Given that the relation of Matter with Gravity is
based on a universal equation, to deny that Andromeda, the larger body in the
Group, is the Center of the Local Gravitational Field, it is simply deny the
truth of Science and use Science like a whore. Which, at the end of the days,
it is the actual situation by Science occupy in the structure of Civilization.
Again, now we turn our eyes from the Creation to the
Creator. Let’s see our Universe according to the Ultimate Design our Creator
had in Mind when he made His Mind and decided to create to Himself a Home in
the Cosmos. Did He create to God a Home equal to His Nature? This is to say,
and forgive my classic way of ‘ergoing’ : He could
not create an Eternal Home for God in a Cosmos continually changing, from a
Cosmic Quarry subjected to eternal Motion and Transformation, at least He
created that Home for God from the standing point of view of a New Conception
of the Relation Matter-Energy. As the basis of the all-relation Matter-Energy
is based in the transformation of Gravity into Natural Forces, and at the end
of the Process the Systems collapse, God had to determine a Foundation based in
a Source of Energy in Continual Activity.
This is why, contrary to the XXTH Century Cosmology,
which predicted the existence of a Black-Hole in the center of the Milky Way,
the observations have revealed to us a Hole of Light. This is to say, and sorry
again for my ‘ergoing’, the Origin of the Milky Way,
as well as the Origin of the Creational Group around Andromeda, is a Source of
Energy, creating a Gravitational Sea in which the Stars Fields keep their
industry. In a natural cosmological condition the transformation of the
gravitational field into physical forces and radiation in the different forms
of the spectrum of light lead the stars to their collapse; from here the ages
of the stars and the universes.
God revolutionized this natural system by generating a
Source of Gravity, which, behaving like a sea fed by infinite rivers, supply
the star fields with the energy already disintegrated, this way maintaining the
constants of the Universe equal to an astrophysical pulse.
The real Final Image of our Milk Way is a sea of
Gravity, the Heart of the Universe, from which infinite rivers, or strings of
gravity, runs all over the star systems, continually refilling their
gravitational tanks, or fields.
From all this, once you have read the Introduction to
the Creation of the Universe, and the Divine History of Jesus, with the Memoirs
of God, which will be read freely again in the next days, we conclude that
Andromeda is the Home that God created to the gods, by that becoming Andromeda
not only the Center of the Local Group, but the Geographical Heart of the
Cosmos, and it is the World from whom His Son came down to the Earth, and we
call Heaven, or Paradise, the World from which the sons of God came in the
Beginning of our World, to be the gods of the first families of men. And the
World to which we will live forever and ever when the day come for it.
It was by that time, after that gorgeous winter and
spring of the 1997 during which I draw these pictures on my mind, that my dad
died. We buried him in the classical way, carrying his casket on our shoulders,
the old warrior on its ship, sailing from the shores of the land of the mortals
to the land of the immortals, the Paradise of the gods.
Y myself sailed the waters, of the Sea of the Middle
Lands to the Island of the Minotaur. There I find me a hut at the feet of the
White Mountains of Chania, where the olives tree are
old as the sun, and the oranges sweet as the wine of the gods, and the hills
kiss the stars at dawn, and a man can sleep in the long beach of Platania with a fresh wind in the air and the hot sand in
the skin, the waves whispering in the ear ballads of the old myths gone, a
world in the body of a ghost playing the flute of Turk pirates, “kill’em all, kill’em all”. Who I
am? Where I’m going? Does it really matter? What I do, has it indeed a echo in
the eternity?
Words! Castles of words, fortress of numbers, all in
the air, a kind of magic, nothing else. What do I care if am right or wrong? My
soul is mine. When am hungry, I eat with my own mouth, I use my own dick to
piss. When I die nobody will bark a song for me. What do I care if there is a
Third World War or a global cataclysm or a universal epidemic! There are
moments in this life where I want to be alone, to fall in love with the Moon,
to run alone in the hills like a Tarzan without stupid Jane, watch the horizon,
no ship coming, good, stare at the gods, great, eat nothing, drink nothing,
work in nothing, naked in the sand, sleeping like a log under a 40 degrees
Celsius sun, follow the muse, rescue a folk sinking in the bagnoir. Call me Paul, call me
Max, call me anything you want, but don’t call me twice.
Nice fellows those Cretans. It is always confusing
with the Languages. Cretan, cretin,
it sounds the same. Funny guys around too. The first time arrived there, no
Greek word in my head, I said to an English folk sitting by me, “Hey, how do
you say in Greek? : a beer, please”. My ex-wife was with me, she got up and
said what he said, and she said : “A Malaca, parakaló”. Everybody in the coffee shop turned the head and
stared in amazing silence at my ex, then they saw the bastard and all broke in
laughing to death. “Malaka” means wanker. Son of a bitch! Really funny
people out there. Lots of drunkards too. I got me a partner, an ex-convict, a
Spaniard coming out of a German jail, no one wanted to work with; a good man. I
learned how to say fuck off in Greek after a while; and to tell them not to
keep my wages in their pockets, too.
Slavery was doing its way back in Greece. They treated
people like dogs, paid them with a dirty bone. I would not let them treat me
so; there was plenty wild berries and things in the hills to feed my hunger.
Better take the sun than taking the shit. I was a good hard working man; not
that I really worked my ass, to me work was sport. I taught them to paid me,
and take me home to sit with the family and eat like a man. I was another thing.
Slaves work no good, drink too much, smoke all the time, take the dirty bone
and go.
I was in those mystic years of mine when I don’t
drink, don’t smoke, don’t make love, don’t nothing, just some work to keep my
muscles in tune and my mind playing with the trees. Then I would go to the
beach and swim hours and hours. One day work, one week out. They love me.
People is weird. My friend John got a thing, terrible, it was in his old van,
in the middle of the summer, cold as a chicken in the fridge. Like in the Green
Mile movie I took care of him, and he passed me the cold. He loved me too. Some
love kill, man.
One night I got me a French girl with a French nose
who made love like a French whore. My real love got jealous and she made me
cry. Then a millionaire came from America, the classic Greek bastard dealing
with anything to get as rich as Midas, he built a tower with a clock, really
fast, he gave a party to the villagers, I drank my ass, and I ended with the
Viking Queen. Just the time to get out of the Island, see.
I made nothing that year, the 1998, no thinking, no
working, just going around Italy. I made my head to master the Italian. I love
that country. I landed in Brindisi, instead heading
North I headed south, Lecce, Taranto. I was the only guitar man around, and the
winds were in love with my hair, I shone like a sunflower, and walked like a
hobo with a crown. Kept going with the idea of jumping to Sicily, but the wind
began to hit me and I broke my vow to not follow the signs.
Naples was closer and I needed some new clothes. I was
nearly naked. Naples downtown market is cheap and got anything you can buy. The
Volcano is always dead, but when I see the pictures is always spitting lava. I
don’t know. The Neapolitans did not know neither. Neither they like very much
the Spaniards.
To get out of Naples is confusing, and Rome was too
close, better cut through the Apennines, Benevento, Cerignola,
Foggia, those are nice towns. The Adriatic waters are template, you can swim
anytime, the people are Italians too, which means a lot when the time comes to
play a song for money. In Spain many pass you a coin with a compassionate eye.
Feel like, “all right, don’t, do you need money?, get some, I don’t need that
much”. Italians came to me with a smile and a bunch of Liras. I loved them. In France you got to play hours to buy you a
miserable sandwich. Italians never left me finished a song, man; that sound of
the coins in my guitar’s hut, all the time. I loved it. They have wonderful
highways, but the small roads are the hit.
You have never been in Italy if you had never hit the
Adriatic shore. Ortona, Pescaro,
Ancona, Ravenna, Ferrara, Padova, Venice. The only
problem with Venice is the room. Even if you made the money, which you always
do, the city is packed, the rooms are by the clouds, and you are a little pigmy
in Saint Mark Square feeding the pigeons. Where you sleep? The truth? Anywhere.
Get you a little alley by any canal, close your eyes, and that’s it. No cars,
no animals making noise, nothing, just perfect. Wake up early, buy you a
wonderful cappuccino, a rich Italian breakfast, see the Grand Canal, let your imagination
fly free to the days of the Byzantines, and the Romans, and the Popes and the
Crusaders. Imagination is for free.
Even in Winter La
Toscana is supreme. Siena, Prato, Pistoia, Fiesole, Grosseto, Pisa,
Livorno, Carrara, and the star of La Toscana, Florence, Firenze. There you have a nice place to
meet street artists from all over the world, sit by one of the most gorgeous
squares in the planet, singing a song in the Old Bridge when the evening comes
softly and the sunset give a goodnight kiss to the Arno River. If it rains
there are underground places where earning your living. And if you can’t make
it, don’t cry, baby, there are Catholic Missions all over Italy, in every
single city, where you can eat for free, get clothes for free, a shower, and a
bed if you want to. All over Spain also. In France too. In Spain they pay you
the bus ticket to anywhere in the country. In France you don’t need it, just
ride the free train. Italians don’t pay you the bus, but you don’t need it,
they give you a lift as they see you on the road, and you can ride the free
train as easier as in France. You don’t ride the free rain in Spain or in
Germany, that’s stupid. I did it, but I got a long experience, you see. I can
tell the ticket man not to give me the shit, but the first time is the harder
and you may feel like crying, there are some nasty bastards. On the other hand
I found nice ticket men as well in Spain as in Germany. The Spanish was a guy
younger than me, I told him straight,
“I got no money. Is that right with you?”
I freaked his bollocks out. He stare at me and sat on
the floor.
“You know what? Let’s smoke a fucking joint”.
It got a marihuana cigarette, already made, homemade,
and he lightened right there. I gave it a hit in his honor.
The German fellow got me in a night train first class
wagon, in a compartment on my own, I was going to Hungary, and the little money
I had it was for my expenses. He sat gently by me, how nice, he was a homo, and he signed me the ticket
straight to the end of the line.
“You will pay it, right?” said he with a sweet smile
in his eyes.
“Sure, love”
Mostly, Germans get crazy. That’s not possible, a man
without money. Fucking laughable. They kick you out, straight, next station may
be in the middle of the Black Forest or in the heart of hell, they don’t give a
shit.
Italians don’t bother getting angry. They call their
partner and say it aloud, “look what we have here, a mouse”. They go and forget
of you, then come the change of guard.
“You still here?”
“How do you know?”
“We know everything”
“All right”
Education, always tidy, but you know, you are a hippy
of the nineties, that’s the uniform of the free train rider. I did the round of
Europe in that uniform couple of times. From Bari to Paris, from Paris to
Budapest, from Budapest to Rome, from Rome to London. You have no home, you
have no bank account neither, what you care?
It was the 1999, and the Saints and the holy ghosts
from all over, and the cannibals too, the atheist and the communists, why not?
All of them were ready to do the Indian, in the year of the Jubilee, “I see you
there, boy, you can’t get lost, just say it, I am a pilgrim, sir, is this the
right road to Santiago de Compostela? You see, you
may have not a piece of a cake, but a laugh, for sure”. I got lost for some
reason in the Pyrenees; I broke in Spain through the Snow Stations where the
kings and the princes and all the rich go to do the ski thing. I entered from
Tarbes, Jaca was the name of the town; I knew it was
a Sunday morning. I began to play in main street early in the morning, to buy
me the morning coffee, you know. At the end of the old street was a church,
classic Spanish architecture, if you love architecture, that was a building to
admire. Old ladies and men on suit walking their way to the church, every
single one was throwing a big coin at my feet. I was playing Dylanesque, soft tunes. After a while, as more bodies were
heading to the church, I got a fortune, closed the shop, and went to my
breakfast. There I read the news, just that week a terrible tragedy had
happened, in a camping place by the river of Jaca the
waters came wild in a sudden and killed many. That Sunday they were celebrating
the Mess in their names. I understood now the look in their eyes.
No longer after I got me another fantastic spot. Just
by the Old Street of San Sebastian, right between the Seaside and the Old
Cathedral. It was a Sunday morning too. And there was no one passing by. Time
to tune the guitar, heat the vocal strings, you know. Slowly, people began to come
up, no fellow missed the target. I was doing good. I had to cover the day and
nearly the week when I had to close the shop, too many people. Then I heard
some gunshots, and everybody running. I found myself in the middle of the
street, the antiterrorist police on my right, the bunch of fellows on my left,
all watching me. I packed and go. Right when the guitar man was gone the
gunshots, plastic bullets, reopened the fire. I learn later that the football
team of Bilbao was to play versus the team of San Sebastian, and all those guys
who feed my pockets were the fans of both teams. Why they came to fuck them?
They were all together drinking and celebrating the evening, little early, so
what? When the show was over the street was a battlefield after a bloody war.
I made it to the 1999’s Jubilee too. Not that I was a
saint, neither a sinner. Santiago de Compostela is
one of those cities from old that made my blood feel good. I had been now and
then before. This time I fell on a couple of hippies of my kind, whom already I
met in La Coruña, him and me playing and she selling
hippy things; they were living by Camariñas, invited
me to stay with them, and we played together during the Jubilee, crowds of
people from all over the world happy as angels in the day of the birth of the
Lord. Was really any War, of problem out there? My friends took me to see the
most strange man in the world. His name was MAN. That was no name. But he was a
man, right? He was naked, and living in a hut made with naked brick, right by
the waves of the ocean. He had been so decades. He had a story, like most of
the Germans out of their minds. He came around one day, long time ago, fell in
love with a local woman, she told him to go to hell, and he lost his mind. He
sat there, in that spot, waiting death. The people had pity on him, gave him
some bread. He managed to evade suicide, but he never came back. He got naked
ever since. He spoke with no one. Local came to feed him, just like I feed the
pigeons. Decades after he was still alive, strong like a rock, happy like a
child. He had built for himself a hut, right there, in the rocks washed by the
waves of the ocean, with débris from the seas. His
fame ran from mouth to mouth and people came to shoot him a photo or two. He
did not accept money, but happy if you brought him something to adorn his hut.
You could sit with him five minutes, but he could not hold much time the
company of humans, he was MAN.
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