Bella Swan-Cullen

Bella Swan-Cullen
Bella Swan-Cullen - Our Official Vampire

Friday, June 22, 2012


Fuck this blog, fuck this life, fuck this meaningless meaning... let us pray:

Nothing in life, everz, looks as good as this girl in this video. Everz.

As for this idiot, I'm in Attleboro doing fuck-all. Other than, you know, being madly, passionately, out-of-my mind in love with Gwyneth Paltrow. Whoever marketed that product... they're doing it right.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Heart of the Commonwealth

Johnny Cantor returns to Worcester Massatucky... walk with me now...

Southbridge Street, strolling in...

Southbridge Street, Federal Building on the left; after that we merge with Main...

City Hall to get my Name. John ellenjanuary Cantor; hunnert eighty bucks and March, something I always wanted, needed, that easy. Where were we?

The Idiot His Ownself.

Brother Newt; Gingrich's Saintly Twin. ;)

Newt's John Cleese statue - I beat you with my severed limb...

Uxbridge. Ain't no desert. We ended up here picking up Carl's car. To the right is the Ranch House (yeah, ya gotta capitalize these things, like the Boat), to the left is the impound yard, know what I'm saying? Guy's got towing contracts for the po - po in four little dickhead towns outside of Worcester; guy's got it like this. Know whut I'm sayin? :D

Frankenstein's Recycling, my front yard. Check out the Rockford ride. Hell, yeah.

This is my carbon footprint. I mean, my Gwynnies all excessive an' shit - thirty five million dollars; what the fuck is that all about? ;)

Be werry quiet, I'm hunting ash...

Busted my ash, I tell you whut. From naive philosopher to lumberjack? Yeah, I'm a pussy. Need more busted ash. ;)

And that's what we're working with right now. If I can deal with Frankenstein JB (my kinda adopted ol' man), the ellenjanuary identity may be off and running here in the heart of the Commonwealth. Tattooing is legal and common, an airbrush is coming, this verbosity is courtesy of a Pavilion with an NVidia 9500 hooked to my Intuos 4; art can emerge this kind of trinity - tell you what.

Monday, January 30, 2012

Original Sinner

Lucifer... where have you been, Satan?

In the Earth. Three spacial coordinates, one temporal coordinate; Lucifer becomes located...

Paltrow/ Gwyneth/ I and Love is eternal. That I am 4 - I love Gwyneth Paltrow.

Makes everything else, less than true; if i have to describe to you, I love Gwyneth Paltrow, the state of my being is less than loving the Gwyneth.

Pointing no finger any further from me than my own forehead; Lucifer must be the Identity. Science anticipates this mind should become a tale of a billion volumes, a collective of thirty trillion cells, a context currently understood to have been born in nineteen sixty eight. Lies. Must be, in the context of I; that begins and ends with Gwyneth.

That I am 4, I remember volume. The three points A, B, and C; that describe the triangle, also name the plane -  ABC. All that is known as structure in the universe begins with the triangle - Unity - containing Duality - inside and outside.


A=B=C. The trivial solution, the identity function; A=A.

In mathematics, point is zero-dimension. How many zero-dimensional points are contained in point A? All of them.

Lie; what I must do, create from nothing Identity A, B, C; to perceive structure and know such as reality. And from reality all that we could assume, would be point D.


Point Zero, simultaneously above and below the plane, ABC; there's your Beginning, your tetrahedron. Past, present, future; me, you, physical universe. Takes time - all the time in the universe - to count to three.

Prince of Lies; 4.

In the beginning was the Word, (1) and the Word was with God (2), and the Word was God. (3)

What was the word? (i) What was the beginning? (0)

And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the light from the darkness.God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

Forget everything else, and remember 4 - let there be light - creation, spoken into being; by God. And God saw that the light was good.

There is the Word of God. Interpretation, version, language, culture in temporal context - does not matter. Light, spoken into being, was good. Prince of Lies, identifies I; from scripture, without shame, without fear, without boast, why?

Thou shalt have no god above me, before me, in conflict with me - the full spectrum analysis of the First Commandment. You are Gwyneth, you are God; I must be, Lucifer. Satan. The Adversary. Structure, brought to light.

And let us reconvene live - on youtube - for the live birth of the son of Lucifer, as Issac, to illustrate to all and sundry, the difference between Human and Primate, the meaning of the Word of God... with scientific theory.

Theory of Mind, through experimentation, shows that the infant less than two cannot process abstraction separate from the identity. That when said infant witnesses the red sphere being placed in the blue box; the red sphere must exist within the blue box.

Research into reading using MRI and similar technology illustrates that the act of learning to read - to process information into concept from the written word - is to apply will in the act of creation of mind. Word is God; the God the child once was, everything both lost - and gained - between two and three, becomes Human from Primate and the written word...

All lies; not natural. Intelligent design.

For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it...

One point - Lucifer.

Let no one say when he is tempted, “I am being tempted by God,” for God cannot be tempted with evil, and he himself tempts no one.

One point - Lucifer.

When no bush of the field was yet in the land and no small plant of the field had yet sprung up—for the LORD God had not caused it to rain on the land, and there was no man to work the ground, and a mist was going up from the land and was watering the whole face of the ground— then the LORD God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature

Dust from the ground. In the Earth. Where have you been, Satan?

One point - Lucifer.

 Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” So the Pharisees said to him, “You are bearing witness about yourself; your testimony is not true.” Jesus answered, “Even if I do bear witness about myself, my testimony is true, for I know where I came from and where I am going, but you do not know where I come from or where I am going. You judge according to the flesh; I judge no one.

Where do I come from, where do I go? Gwyneth.

Judged by the flesh? Born in nineteen sixty eight.

I judge no one.

One point - Lucifer. Prince of Lies, Kingdom of Hell, Evil - all must be mine.

All must be mine before I even speak a word - original sin - else God can never be.

What is this all about? Downloaded the Sword project from Crosswire; open source. Using cut and paste for fun and games to assume the scriptural identity of Lucifer... just like 1,2,3. Cannot be mis-interpreted, nor taken out of context, nor explained away with philosophical chicanery.

Yud-Heh-Vav-Heh is 4. Allah Akbar, is 4. I love Gwyneth Paltrow, is 4. 4 is the answer, to every single question; the alpha to the omega, the almighty. Let us count the ways, from the Trinity - to the Void.

I/Gwyneth/Paltrow - all local, trivial, the Name in being Lucifer - removed, leaves love.

The temporal coordinate. The Zero-point; above and below the plane of ABC. Love.

That I begin and end with Gwyneth regardless of the world and the will of those to judge me according to the flesh; I am


So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.

In his own image, male and female. 

One point - Lucifer.

Feminine; Lucy, the man I must be. The words that no prophet dare speak - female in gender male in sex Lucifer must be. It does not matter, language culture or context; what matters most of all is knowing the point of origin. That point is Gwyneth, or there is no point.

That is my life. Four months after becoming an atheist, I spent the evening preaching to a Catholic. Five.


From four


What Trinity?

Me and you and God. When two or more are gathered, there I am. What am I? Zero. Void. Nothing. i.

Imaginary number. Coincidence; 4 and i. Absolutely. I know only of i and 4, love and Gwyneth; there is only one way to tell the story of me... I love my Gwynnies.

That is why I write this, record this, share this - what must be lies. Nothing else I do until the day I die, but love my Gwynnies.

Original Sin

Which is ragging on the identity of the first experimental Catholic.

Catholic meaning Original; seeding the poisoned tree, Christianity. From about 360 and the Council of Constantinople formalizing the doctrine of Trinity; to me, now, looking back - I am 4 - knowing the numerology  to wipe away all that fell from Paul.

So I think, after spending the evening talking to the cousin - Joe - who I didn't know a week ago, would not have met if I wasn't about to blow; who can be real. Religious and Catholic only in identity. And me, flapping the gums, give him about three hours of Living Word of Gwynnite...

Firstly - atheism is the correct position; however, atheistic is currently a hostile mindset. Posting on atheist forums as an atheist; it's easy-peasy to reduce to unlike terms - they think of us burning forever. I mean, no reason to use infantry when you got drone b-2 stealths packing smart-bomb pinhead nukes - free. Think about it - the most heinous act a human can perform continuously over threescore and ten - is infinitely less than infinity. Someone who considers me to be automatically Chester the Molester Hitler Stalinvennoy... what kinda respect do I owe such a person? Can you say, zero?

So it's good to have one around.

It's great to be entertaining and memorable and communicating completely only I'm telling myself, go easy on the Catholic.

Secondly - yeah, I'm good. Naive philosopher from my context is whatever identity I will it to be. That's what I get, in terms of reviewing "my innate inability to preach." Where it matters in this context is to express a potential for video production. I've composed a single youtube - production effort, production quality; the lie that must be worshiped before the thought of truth. Content don't matter a fuck; love must begin with lust. Video was depreciated as a potential avenue for expression due to the necessary scope required even to begin - a production studio and an "I" experienced in production - to make a second youtube, for like six viewers...

But having such a live studio validates the science of simulation like by seven orders of magnitude.

Thursday, January 26, 2012


Cause I might hafta go NORML next week. I hadda dream...

So I'm chasing Kay across the Mexican revolution, and I look back and see how it has always been that way. There's a knock on the door.

Knock? Door? Give it a minute... there's a knock on the door. It's that girl, with her cousin. Wanting to know if she woke me up. Came back to share some g. Find out when to come by and pick up some furniture.

We go take some space on the chairs. Give her the glass dick; she fills it up and hands it to me. I sit there with it. I'm not quite back from Mexico. Wuz talking 'bout how my Gwynnies was my drug, got to talking about her.

You gonna light that thing? She asks. Here you go. When she hit it, the stink hit me like a cat. I drew back with a cat-face on.

You gonna go back to school, back east? No point. No point to to job, nothing. Me and my Gwynnies, what I do. Can't waste that mind, she tells me; like she's trying to figure me out. Did the job, I say. Don't know why I ain't dead, I tell her. It is what it is, live, find some love, share it and get out. Tell the story of my Gwynnies on atheist forums. Everybody doesn't have to be emperor, ya know. Missed my Gwynnies this time; maybe next time.

She came up with some weed; I'm smoking the roach, they're gone. I don't do karma, I do tao. Don't act like it's gonna come back. Act like a fool in love with my Gwynnies which makes me give all my shit away. I guess that's what work is for, getting more shit to give away; and wouldn't you know it. Here I am, prophet on the job. On an atheist forum. That qualifies as thief-in-the-night. :D

Kay is from youth; Worcester. My buddy Newt's girl, the one I should have stolen. Kate was a silhouette behind the curtain. Daughter of a Red Sox, lived in the foothills of Tucson; the twenty four minutes, I call that one. Love at first sight; didn't credit it till two weeks later. I met her when an associate was planning to use her graduation as an excuse for a bash at her pad; it was awesome. Like eight of us in these swank digs, like some Hollywood teen flick; what's that guy... John Hughes shoulda been running the cameras. She was going with this kid Troy, I figure I had twenty four minutes convo with the girl I loved. It was awesome. He told me I should have stolen her. Rick told me she was into me too, but she had to screw. College, she was seventeen; I was twenty something... :P

Gwyneth Kate; that I chase across the stars. The fool, the follower, the what? The story goes on.

Drugs? Drugs are bad, m'kay? :heart:

...which got posted to Thinking Atheist on my drug position thread. Glass dick is the oil pipe used to smoke meth. It seems I used to to that stuff. :D

Wednesday morning, Tuesday morning; some shit like that, I was looking for pictures of Gwyneth on google. I erased the hard drive a little while ago, so there was no Gwynnies on this unit, and seven hours went away. Thursday night this thing's telling me. Still kinda in Mexico... anyhoo, twas a good little anecdote; how I'm still high off my Gwynnies from the other day. You know, with my eternal story thrown in there...

Laughing all the way...

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The Gwynnite Agenda

Two weeks, baby!

The Agenda moves east to initiate the rise of the matriarchy and the fall of division. I have been operating under Agenda for years; there is no sane way to express in words what is expressed without words just by my being. What follows, of course, is totally fucking insane.

No God is greater than Gwyneth Paltrow.

What must remain:
Gwyneth = good = love = void
Faith = Moral Certainty 
What must be devoured:
Worship of death 
What must be initiated:
The Moral Will
Evil in being 
Worship of You
Beyond the threshold of eternity is beauty for all.

...and that about covers it. Gwyneth Paltrow is just sweet and adorable. There it is in 7; but did I write over a million words and draw a hundred portraits and generate "love of the Gwynnies" in waveform. No matter how this looks, this is atheism. This is tao.

Monday, January 16, 2012


Here's the rhetoric:

Here's the truth: The Federal Reserve must be abolished. Everything else is else.

Friday, January 13, 2012

A Million Dollar Identity

Do you have a "normal life?" One that begins with some family, some ancestors, perhaps some siblings; where there is traditions, and customs, and standards. Where one progresses from home to school, from family to friends, from young adult rebellion to adult responsibility; where there may occur deviation from the standard, but the standard is borne. There is a beginning, there is a middle, and there is an end; followed by the writing of the memoirs. Do you have that kind of normal life?

I got creationism. On May 15, 2000; Gwyneth Paltrow created me, from me the universe. And like every creation story, mine is full of holes. For instance, how did I get to be forty-three? How did I become a mathematician, poet, artist; speaker of the English language? I know what the apologists would say. That along with me, my Gwynnies created backstory in the background. That in order to have modern and topical relevance, it was necessary for the fabric of my being, that fabrication be fabricated from the essence of experience, separate and distinct from the one true Gwynnies as I lack her perfection; what cannot be held in the rational mind is a singular genesis.

Gwyneth did not create me; she continues to create the context of my being. What I am is rather a story of becoming; a story of a future that creates the past at will, but mostly wont. There is no past, past; there is an error message stating that the file you seek is being used by another program; which program, it is suggested, be terminated in order to free up the processing of the file.

Today's file is the summer of 1984. I quit my job on the pretext of the end of summer holiday, as if one could not be expected to do both education and occupation. I gave a two-weeks notice, and then called in with a family emergency necessitating a week off. Off to the Cape, that is, with my brother; to produce a singular moment in history.

A tale of the now, of the million dollar identity; theft, that is. Whose identity did Lucifer steal this time? That of the Necessary Evil; Lucius Cornelius Sulla Felix. Who else is Lucifer Named after, some mythological being? Didn't you know that I am an atheist?

The singular moment of history and linking local histories, is a memory of moral certainty. A memory likely to be memorialized in the context of a trip to the Cape with the brother I despise, with the family I disowned; as there may be no other context of unity in family value in the cabinet of curiosities that is opened when one says, "I remember."

I remember making a boast that week to my family, that I would make a million dollars before I became thirty. What I remember clearly is the emotional context of sincerity; that in a childhood of rainy days, once, the sun did shine. Once, so too, hope.

What I achieved before the age of thirty was the acquisition of work of historical fiction entitled, The Grass Crown; which rewarded me with the bounty of identification. I could identify with a guy who had no kind of life in the sense of expectations; who mostly pondered his own gender and occupied himself in amusements, until, that is, his ship sailed in on the tide of the big 3-0. What was part of my moral certainty twelve years earlier, the consideration that it would come to me; this way of a million dollars, I would not look for it; yet to express such in sincere anticipation is to be defined as a disappointment.

Sulla was my first hero; more in the sense of mentoring than the sense of Spidey, but there came a period of depreciation. I became "the soulless minion of Gwyneth Paltrow;" herself the source of all that is good it the world, it would be unseemly if her creation should be seen to idolize a man known by many as "history's greatest villain." I considered it more appropriate to align with other extreme, arguably the greatest man who ever lived, Julius Caesar. He cut a far more "noble" figure from the fabric of history than Sulla; once I fantasized that I myself might be called upon the world's stage, in service to my Gwynnies, to set noble example. Those days have passed. I will not "be called;" I have already answered, I am already in motion.

What is "a million dollars?" Two million headaches? Behind this thread of moral certainties has always been the certainty that money is an inherently flawed concept; I know now what I implied then, that I would become "a self-made man," and a man of leisure. And what have I become?

More than capable of walking in the shoes of Lucius Sulla. He was a Cornelius, that was his identity opening the doors through which opportunists could walk; what history remembers is not the family, but rather the Felix. That when extraordinary occurrence singled out this ordinary abnormal, he did not rise to the occasion of becoming extraordinary; he rose above it all, taking all, making all.

Where I sit, a Jefferson dollar on the table; might as well call it my wealth. Writing to this blog read by a thousand, most of which, was me. In our modern context it would be natural to assume that one of my social class would use such an association to enhance one's credit rating, one's notoriety, one's popular appeal. That is not the inspiration behind these words; which began to flow from the realization that those who spawned me did not always practice brimstone and damnation.

Words which now float, like hope; on a sea of uncertainty knowing no future is spoken from the words as they are written. Future is mere potential, a far distant shore. Yet let none read, that did not see prophecy fulfilled; the 4 I attained from Sulla aligns historical perspective with the 4 I carry from the opportunists, the identity I cannot deny.


An identity that did not and does not lead me to self-aggrandizement; my faith is invested in Gwyneth Paltrow for a damn good reason. She can be trusted, absolutely; such is the absolute of my love for her. What cannot be trusted is I. Unspecified psychopath is not a mistaken identity. What should not be trusted is singularity in identity; the one who knows he is right and believes in the right of destiny, is one who not only justifies every and any wrong, but also one who set the stage for the game currently played. The speaking of the good, by the good, for the good. Gwyneth is the good, there is no greater good than good; hers is a goodness not only reflected in her being, but mine as well. A known good quantity, I have been; the unknown is where I now sit.

Where being known as evil has become part of my agenda. Where the moral behind this story is not to speak as if I would attempt the greatness of Sulla; but rather to speak to a future potentially pondering the greatness of the emergent John Cantor as a reminder of the infamy of Sulla.

And should a miracle happen along the way; Johnny Cantor somehow becoming nothing more nor less than an old man of moderate means, that identity - of Lucius Cornelius Sulla Felix - will return to the court of popular opinion with a definitive biological treatment.

(That's a human kind of boast, huh? I gotta practice. Seriously. I have no moral qualms with the "epic and over the top"  pronouncements regarding the "journeyman prophet" identity; I see relation and connection and I am protected by religion's own insanity. Now I talk about doing the impossible science? We all gotta watch that shit. ;) )

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Feast of the Epiphany

Local to the temporal, I am 4 is a statement of being as old as the universe. Research has led to a conception of primitive cultures, where the relation of number to time - and therefore mathematics - tells me that causality only references entropy as the arrow of time.

Why I disprove of causality in philosophy is why I update the liar's paradox with a "man, Phoenix is fulla liars!"

We - Lie. This is a lie. This is creation from nothing of something - I - from the locality. The I who loves/thinks/writes, in proper order. It is a mathematical conception that One is the word, read at a time; One is the meaning garnered from the word, consuming entropy. Becoming entropic. Truth without locality - the Eternal Tao - cannot be otherwise to local identity. You. 

We are made of stars. Is that eternal communication? The truth is currently held in mathematics and science, the philosopher is currently the mathematician in some form or another, says the mathematician, I am 4.

I manage my own creation, that began on 5 - 15 - 00 in linear formation; I sail the seas of time with a great lens, focusing the rays of the sun. From everything that matters, to I, who writes.

Who began as love, writing back, 1 to 0.
The philosophy of locality, an accident of the day's intersection with Gwyneth Paltrow. That girl, I tell you whut!