Saint Peter and the Wolf/The Blood of Ravers

Once again, I found myself in a Saint Voyage.

I returned to where the last Voyage had began, and the Saints Ploof, Medusa, Dishdawash, Sir Paranoia, and a new Saint yet to be named greeted me.The Saints had once again entered the liquid brainstate. The Unnamed Saint was the individual I became close with on the Celestial All Saints Day. Not to be confused with Saints' Day, which occurs in two weeks, on Marching 27th.

Medusa exclaimed "YOU'RE ALWAYS WEARING THAT SHIRT WHEN I SEE YOU!"


I had asked Ploof and Medusa had informed of the previous events of the day: viewing the latest 3-D viddy and talking to strangers.

Unlawfully, we all huddled into the death machine, and journeyed to Ploof's abode. On the way, we found a "FREE SHIT" sale on the corner of the street.

Once again, I felt loved by the Saints, crouched with my head between my knees in the death machine, I felt home.

When we arrived at Ploof's cabin, Sir Paranoia awarded me with a special cloth. These clothes were known as bandanas. Bandanas are used as facial flags to identify which side of a NonSaint Organization you are apart of in the ghettos near my homeland. This bandana is white, and it has a hole and bloodstains on it. It had belonged to an enemy of Sir Paranoia, and it has the blood of ravers.

A raver is a neo-hippie, as Sir Paranoia had told me on Octoberesque 3rd, the Reminiscently Saintful day.
A raver is an individual who consumes a chemical known as MDMA. These teenage 'outcasts' decorate themselves in Kandi. Kandi is when you synthesize kindergarten arts'n'crafts with drug abusers.

I stole images of the night with a camera, but sadly, I do not have the images yet.

Ploof had us watch a film. A stop motion animation film. It was a modern interpretation of Peter and the Wolf.

The night progressed, and the remainder of the night was spent laughing hysterically at a box with a bright screen. Listening to music and telling stories to one another. 

The night was concluded with Sir Paranoia transporting me from location to location. He had told me that the night before he had driven two of his karass with two inebriated strangers. The strangers had told him of a location in Tujunga. I grew up in Sunland, Tujunga.

We drove into dark streets of the destroyed town, listening to Sergei Prokofiev's compositions.

Once more, the Sir Paranoia's death machine had ascended beyond the level of the human Earth, in the mountains of Tujunga, in search of a new Saint Spot.

 There was no success to be had. Sir Paranoia and I returned to our homes.

Sir Paranoia has concluded that I am a child of the liquid brainstate.
 

I am the ocean
Lit by the flame
I am the mountain
Peace is my name
I am the river
Touched by the wind
I am the story
I never end.