Okay, maestro, this e-mail is important. It took me over a month to write my story about the military and women because the subject is so personal and difficult to contemplate. This e-mail will also be difficult because the events I will describe are so shocking to me that I really can’t even comprehend personally how they could have happened. Today I’ll write about my third encounter with drugs. Basically everything that happened from November 5 to 17, 2019. If you thought my encounter with Marcus the Illuminati wizard in the hotel with Melinda was shocking, well, that is boring compared to this. This week that I’ll describe was so intense that I basically divide my life into two parts: life before and after November 2019. I am going to relate it here as best I can, but I promise you, I will be leaving out huge swaths of indescribable mayhem.
I mentioned to you that I have a friend, George, with whom I intended to travel to Spain after my year in Israel. I did not want to return to the United States from Israel and stay there forever. At first I just wanted to go home on vacation to the USA, but after my interaction with the van Ouwerkerks, I canceled my visa and left my monastic vows. I had no purpose in life whatsoever.
Even in Israel I’d felt this emptiness. I went to that country with the hope that God would show me a purpose, and instead I met the van Ouwerkerks. I left Israel with no desire to return and without having figured out why I had been there in the first place.
By chance, George called me after twenty years of not hearing from him. He was like me: a retiree with PTSD. He served 23 years in the military and was discharged with the rank of Master Sergeant. He suffered a terrible divorce and was still fixing his finances when he got in touch with me. Like me, he felt a desire to permanently leave the country that had ruined his life and his sanity.
I kept in touch with him while all the van Ouwerkerk stuff was happening to me and when I had my first two drug rampages. Since George lived in El Paso, Texas, just a seven-hour drive from my parents in Scottsdale, Arizona, I took refuge at his home while my parents visited their other residence on the Texas coast without me. They didn’t want me to be left alone in their stupendous hacienda-style mansion in their absence. Since my return from Israel, I had been living there with my parents, though I didn’t have the right to have keys to the house. So when they left, I had to go somewhere else. This will be an important point.
While my parents were on the Texas coast, I decided to go to El Paso to visit George for a few weeks. But in El Paso I was bored and couldn’t stop thinking about what happened with the Illuminati at the hotel.
It was then that Chaz called. I couldn’t help talking to him. My curiosity was eating me up. By the way, he called me immediately after I received my monthly pay from my pension. I get paid on the first of each month. I had just left my vows on October 31st. I got my paycheck on November 1 and went to see George the next day. Chaz called me a day later, and finally on November 4 I was back in Scottsdale to visit him. George told me to take care of myself. I could tell this was more than casual well-wishing.
Before I went back, while I was talking to Chaz on the phone, he told me that the girl I had met with Melinda, Haley, was now his girlfriend. He assured me that we could all have a good time together. I spoke to Haley a bit to arrange the lodging. At first I wanted to look for a quaint boutique hotel. We had fun talking about this, but unfortunately they were all too expensive for me. We had to settle for a Motel Six, the standard for this kind of life, apparently.
I drove from El Paso to Scottsdale. I picked up the couple and we went to the hotel to start smoking meth. Things got weird pretty fast. To give a sense of the tone of things, I will have to turn to the Bible. Perhaps a story about Abraham would be useful:
And the Lord appeared to Abraham at the oaks of Mamre, while he was sitting at the door of the tent in the heat of the day. When Abraham raised his eyes and looked, there were three men standing in front of him. When he saw them, he ran from the door of the tent to meet them, and fell on the ground, and said: “My Lord, if now I have found favor in your eyes, please do not pass by your servant.(Genesis 18:1-3)
Maestro, you realize that Abraham was lounging delirious in the heat of the day. Three men came up to him, and he said, “hello, God!” Perhaps the effect of the heat of the day was for him like that of methamphetamines on me. In a sense, Abraham was talking to three men. We don’t know who they were. Travelers, Bedouins…we don’t know. But according to the patriarch’s understanding, they were God. It would have been crazy, but the Bible remembers the event as an encounter with the divine.
Also, there is a tale of Jacob:
The same night he arose and took his two wives, his two female servants, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. He took them and sent them across the stream, and everything else that he had. And Jacob was left alone. And a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he touched his hip socket, and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. Then he said, “Let me go, for the day has broken.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” And he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” Then he said, “Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed.” Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the name of the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered.”Genesis 32:22-30
Maestro, when was the last time that after getting into a fight you asked yourself if you were fighting against God? This passage from the Torah is strange, but think a bit about the situation. Jacob had fought this guy all night. There was certainly a lot of adrenaline and exhaustion involved. By the way, adrenaline and methamphetamine are like sisters.
The heat of the day. Adrenalin. Methamphetamine. No, maestro, I do not recommend that people take methamphetamine to meet angels or God. I say this specifically because in the course of my drug adventure, I encountered nothing but hell. What I am trying to describe here is that in life there are multiple levels of understanding and ways of explaining the things that happen to us. For instance, when you drink your coffee in the morning, yes, master, there is this basic level of understanding: you just drink coffee. But there are metaphorical, ethical and philosophical reasons that you can attribute to the act of drinking coffee. With sufficient amounts of exhaustion, adrenaline, and… yeah, you guessed it maestro, meth , the other whys in life suddenly become more obvious and clear than the practical ones. Subtle signals take a prominent place in the interpretation of the situation.
I have no idea what happened at the hotel with Melinda, the drug dealer, and the black man. I only remember having telepathic conversations with the Illuminati in which, by smoking incredible amounts of drugs, they tried to transform me into a woman. It was definitely insane. But these events do not have to be entirely meaningless. And when the madness has a true meaning, we may have found some enlightenment.
So the pretext for our meeting was that I would provide money, while Chaz and Haley would provide a good time. We reached this agreement in great detail. The result was that the experience began with a promise that tasted like temptation.
Obviously, “what do you want to do?” was Chaz’s initial question. Although, as I mentioned before, the details of his statements were not common. Like, for example: “there is no good or bad here. What you want to do, you can do. Absolutely everything,” conveys the feel of his tone. The temptation of Satan had begun. Naturally, making this type of offer caused many sins to flood my mind. I wanted to resist them. In fact, I had to argue with these temptations, almost out loud. My host’s disappointment was evident.
In previous conversations with Chaz I hadn’t realized that he was, in his own way, a master of philosophy. Do you remember the first e-mail in which I described him to you? There I told him that I wanted to alter reality with the power of my mind, and that that time Chaz had told me that such things were impossible. But this time it was not like that. It was important to Chaz to convince me of the exact opposite. Now, for him reality was just a perception, like in the Matrix movie, and it was very easy to change it at the whim of my thinking. I was surprised at his sudden conviction.
He further told me that attempting to describe the fundamental nature of reality is as impossible a task as it is unnecessary. And with that said, he asked me if I wanted to receive the proof of the true nature of reality.
I immediately said yes.
Chaz just stared at me without blinking and without saying a word. And I swear that at the same time that he was setting an unfathomable gaze upon me, he poured himself soda in a glass and put it next to him on a table as if his hands could see everything without his needing to look at anything. He continued to look at me after he poured the glass of soda, and I realized that this was his point. The answer to all life is a dude pouring a glass of soda. It’s the best answer anybody is ever going to be able to give anybody. I consented to him that I understood his point. After all, we only have our senses and our perceptions. We will never be able to escape our own interpretation of reality.
Then Chaz added, almost like an ancient sage, “there is no purpose in trying to define reality. The only thing that matters is that reality can do what you want or it can also fight against you and destroy you.” Again, Chaz appeared to be a demon seeking to sign a blood pact with me in exchange for my immortal soul.
Maestro, you should know that Chaz has a college degree. He’s not stupid. However, before his divorce and his entry into the drug trade, he was just the owner of a sandwich shop. And yet, for all of the simplicity and commonality that describes him, he seemed to have many moments when he reasoned as if he were Wittgenstein, Plato, Hegel and Epicurus rolled into one person.
Also, at the same time, he behaved like a Loki from Norse mythology. And I don’t mean the idiot supervillain from the Marvel movies. I am talking of the ancient trickster from Norse mythology. Chaz spoke at times like the biggest son of a bitch that ever walked the face of the earth. He said entertaining, contradictory, sometimes wicked things, apparently for the purpose of sowing confusion.
He once said to me, “I don’t always tell the truth, but Haley does.”
What can be done in the face of such a statement that contains in itself an insoluble enigma?
Should I believe him? Was Haley the honest one or was it Chaz? What sort of confidence is supposed to be gained from an endorsement of someone’s honesty from a self-professed liar?
I don’t quite remember the context, but Chaz once told me that he invented the question mark. I didn’t forget this enigmatic statement because, of course, according to my understanding, Satan was actually the first being who ever doubted anything. This would make Satan the inventor of the question mark. I derived this idea from the notion that if someone wants to alter reality by altering their own perception, the first thing they must do is doubt that objective reality exists at all. For example, refer again to my story about the Prince and his bottle of beer. Initially he had to say to himself, “I’m not sure my hand is empty. There may be a beer bottle in my hand. I do not know.” Such a question would be the first doubt ever to occur, and it would also be the first lie anyone ever told. Ironically, this first lie ever told was told by a single being to himself. According to the Bible, Satan was the first liar. Jesus refers to this in his complaint against a group of hypocritical religious people:
You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies.John 8:44
Naturally, the claim to authorship of the question mark seemed to me to be a letter of introduction from the Prince of Lies. Then, possibly a day or two later, Chaz told me that he hadn’t made it up, but that the inventor of the question mark had been his father. He told me a story about it, of which I remember absolutely nothing. What was relevant to me, if anything, was that he said that his father had invented the question mark. To me this meant that Chaz was not Satan, but a demon or perhaps a group of demons. He was a son of Satan, one of the many brothers of lies.
Many months later, long after all of these adventures I am telling you about with these e-mails, I was curious about the story and asked Chaz to tell me again. He sent me this message:
The details of my life are quite inconsequential… very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we’d make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum… it’s breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.
This is most likely not what he told me earlier at the hotel. In a nutshell, maestro, his response was: “Fuck you, Bailey. I said something you don’t remember. No matter what I say to you now, it is too late, and you will never know what I said.” Yes, Chaz has a unique style he uses to make me understand his points. In the end, the only thing I know is that he said his father invented the question mark, and since Satan is the inventor of the question mark, ergo his father is Satan.
Even more ironic is the meaning of Chaz’s name: “strong man.” And his last name, Christianson, means “son of a Christian.” All of this is peppered with irony. Christians value humility and weakness. For me, the name Chaz, and his very existence, were resounding proof of the failure of Christianity.
The thing that Chaz was trying to convince me to do was to try sorcery. Again it was interesting to me that, although initially Chaz had not believed that altering reality by the mind was possible, now he was urging me to try to change my body. Many times he told me that it was just like changing clothes. Meanwhile, I would settle in front of the mirror with him there watching me while I was trying to remove the hair from my arms… or create hair on my head or make myself thinner or more muscular … or younger. He seemed like a teacher or a coach.
While I was practicing “mirror magic,” Chaz often lounged on the bed with Haley. I tried to change my appearance based on my perceptions, but failed miserably. I could see that his face changed expression when I made my vain attempts. After each failure, his disappointment was more than evident.
Yes, master, surely at this moment the matter of hallucinations is plaguing your mind. I do not have any response. By all accounts it appeared to me that Chaz’ facial expressions changed as I made my various attempts to alter my body with my mind. If I was hallucinating his facial expressions, why could I not hallucinate less hair on my arms? I can also state flatly that the resolution of his facial expressions was every bit as realistic as the computer that you are using to read this e-mail. People with schizophrenia say they can see people who are not present with them. Hallucinations with perfect resolution, apparently. I don’t doubt I was having some kind of schizophrenic lapse. And I can tell you that you don’t want to experience something like that in the company of Loki, the trickster, Chaz Christianson.
The philosophical themes of the conversations we were having were very deep. It was not possible to determine where the hallucinations began and ended. If there were hallucinations, that is. Everything together resulted in an inexplicably deep and coherent situation. On my journey to the dark side, I was accompanied by two guides whose intention was to convince me that I was the source of true reality.
However, one thing confused me a lot. If my conversations with Chaz were hallucinations, why couldn’t I change my freaking body? If it was all just a fantasy, I was supposed to be able to modify it at will. But no. Despite the fact that everything was very crazy, this insanity followed very logical patterns from the point of view of a demon apprentice. And if there were hallucinations, I had no indication that they were hallucinations. For all I know, master, you are a hallucination. In fact, no one I know has seen me with you except Mark. Is Mark also a hallucination? Can you see that the problems that drugs and insanity bring are not exactly pleasant?
As I mentioned above, it seemed to me that Chaz wanted to convince me that I could do whatever I wanted because reality is not the product of infinite intelligence, but of our perceptions. In short, Chaz behaved exactly like the Prince in my story… like Satan.
I realized that throughout our conversations, in which I occasionally mentioned Jesus Christ, he always ridiculed his name. Once I wondered why Jesus did not turn me away from these forces of evil. Why didn’t he send me angels instead of letting me subject myself to all this crap? Today I have the answers to these questions, since, in fact, later I could perceive that such a predicament had its advantages. However. At during that time with Chaz, I was at a point where I asked myself a question that people ask themselves all the time: “God! Why me?” Quite commonplace.
Chaz’s response was that Jesus didn’t show up because he didn’t want to see me. “You want to see him? He doesn’t want to see you.” And then he told me that if I wanted to see Jesus, he could bring bring him to me because he was probably nearby, cleaning a room. Chaz referred to the Messiah as if he were a simple latino janitor, since Jesús is a common name in Spanish, but not in English. I promise you, maestro, that every English speaker on earth who hears: “My name is Jesús. May I mow your grass?” thinks to himself sardonically that the Messiah will be at his service. For an ordinary English speaker, the name Jesus is absolutely rare in connection with a normal human person. Jokes about latinos who call themselves Jesus are notable for their low-key racism.
During these conversations I had moments of uncertainty, to say the least. Such things are natural when contemplating matters of deep philosophy, especially when extremely drugged. At the least expected moment, I always found answers to my questions, but once or twice I even went so far as to deny the existence of God. To which Chaz replied, “Wow! I’m a unicorn maker!”
I must clarify that in English a unicorn is a rare person. For example, in swinger communities, a unicorn is a young, beautiful, single, bisexual woman who wants to have a threesome with a swinger couple, which probably consists of a creepy old husband and a fat old wife. A unicorn is a rare and prized person. He seemed to convey that his causing me to lose faith in God made me some kind of incredibly rare person.
Likewise, for many centuries, theologians have debated whether it is possible for a true disciple of God to lose his faith. In this regard, I can tell you that no, it is not possible. Apparently, Chaz and the demon that possessed him had never seen a knight of God lose their faith. They were very jubilant when they imagined that their influence had caused me to stop thinking that reality was the product of God.
However, as I mentioned above, I would have these moments of doubt while completely intoxicated, but even in this state of utter derangement I would in short order return to my theistic positions with fresh explanations supporting my positions. Frustrated, seeing that there had been no permanent change, that there were only temporary doubts, Chaz continued with his tricks and his confusing phrases. In particular, he wanted to take advantage of my opinions about Haley. For me, obviously, he was the villain, not Haley. That’s why he would say things like: “It’s not my fault, I only work for Haley!”
In addition, Chaz had advanced knowledge of philosophy that most people do not have. The things he was saying were not in the language of professional philosophers or academics. They were things that most people don’t consider in their lives, but sometime rarer people talk about them when they get drunk or high. You can also see these ideas in movies like The Matrix or in other forms of popular art. In these settings their themes are ubiquitous. They all had to do with perception and doubt.
For example, he once asked me: “how do you know that your existence did not begin five minutes ago, with implanted memories from a previous life?” Or, “what is the difference between sleeping and being dead? How do you know that you didn’t die last night when you went to bed and that you weren’t born this morning, like someone waking up to a new reality?” Or further: “what is the difference between what you see when you sleep and what you see when you are awake?”
Maestro, it was more than evident to me that I was not talking to an ordinary drug dealer. The conversation was not what one would expect to have. Instead of talking about drugs and dogs, we talked about spirituality, philosophy, and religion. These topics are usually uncomfortable for people. There are those who cannot bear the mere mention of the name of Jesus in mixed company. I have seen that Buddha is more popular or tolerable, but only in basic and superficial concepts. Yet Chaz opined like an expert on the Prince’s philosophy: you can create a bottle of beer in your hand from scratch, since there is no truth, and there is no God; you just have to believe that it is in your hand, because everything you see is just a perception.
Don’t forget, maestro, that when I first saw Chaz, he told me that mentally changing reality was impossible. But here, convincing me to mentally change reality with my mind was the entire aim of his presence with me.
I also had a conversation with Chaz in which he pretended to be Jesus, and he spoke to me as if I were Satan, or at least someone condemned to hell. He used doctrines from the Catholic Church and Islam that state that being good enough is necessary to enter heaven. I am not a Catholic or a Muslim, so I know very well that someone who truly loves God cannot be damned under any circumstances. But at that time I was very drugged and suggestible. I remember answering him that I thought God would accept me, whatever happened …
And I can still hear his response: “You were wrong.”
Now I understand how the Prince (or Satan) felt when he decided to leave the kingdom of the One (or the Messiah), winding up in a world of darkness without God. Overwhelmed by the discovery of his perdition, he said to the One: “Hey! Why am I not in my personal paradise?” To which he received the same response as me: “you were wrong.” Demons are very disappointed beings, my friend.
Those words from Chaz came from deep within the doom of the fallen angels. The demon that lived inside Chaz really wanted to tell me, “now you know what it feels like.”
Of course that was a hoax. These e-mails contain a lot of religion, verses from the Bible, but they are not a theology manual. I don’t have time to explain all sorts of doctrines here. So, if you’re curious, you can ask me at Anzuelitos when we get together next. For now, I can only tell you that Chaz had a lot of fun playing his devil role. But for me it was like having conversations with Satan in person, the father of lies. It was an incredible experience.
Alas, maestro, can’t keep telling you about what all happened during the week without telling you some things about Haley first. Getting all this stuff straight is not easy at all. I mean, I am trying to logically describe my own insanity. This is why Haley is very important. I have to explain to you what her role was in all this, from start to finish. But it will have to be tomorrow. Again this e-mail has become very long and tedious. I have to think about how to tell you these things more efficiently. Besides, I’m drunk.
See you tomorrow, maestro!