The IRS is requesting documents, so I’m annoyed AF, so annoyed because I feel like I needed to pay in installaments this year which triggered them behind the scenes, and so, luckily, I’m fine, I have everything, it’s going to take me a couple of hours, but I’m annoyed, because I pay an accountant, so it’s like, WHY am I getting this LETTER? You know??? I filed TAXES. Drives me crazy. So, I’m cleaning up my internal revenue arena, and there’s nothing grave here, honestly, it seems, but coming back to the United States has been bumpy, which I was prepared for, mentally, and ACTING LIKE — thinking about this GURU — I just have to meditate and NOT CREATE that reality is somewhat ridiculous. Imagine? Me in front of the goddamn military saying, look, let us collectively meditate on this being A SYNCH? In a sense? The military would be like, you’re delusional. Maybe we could perform soe collective — meditation, but it’s like, probably I was going to shake a little, so again, luckily, I’m pretty on point with my finances in that regard.
This morning on my walk, I just remembered the fucking Hollywood guru — I called him on the phone when I started going through a panic attack or something, which ended up being horrific, pain in my hips, and because he was a PSYCHIC — because he acted like he had SUPREME senses that required NO question from him on his end — I said, “what’s happening?” When he picked up the phone. He said, without hesitation: “don’t you think you were scared?” “What?” “When you suddenly ended up living in another house?” You see what I mean? He didn’t ask a QUESTION, “I don’t know, what is happening?” HE then said, “you’re probably going to be going through experiences…” IMAGINE? I hate this man. HE DECIDED I was repressed and he indirectly encouraged me down this road. I could slap him, his sister, his brother, BEL AIR itself — across the fucking face.
I’m telling you—with THIS one, I could smash his windows. I could SMASH his property. HOW DARE him?
You’re probably going to go through EXPERIENCES?
It’s shit like this, this guru psychedelic crap, “what do YOU know about THAT?”
I could kill this guy.
What HE did was insane.
I came from a background.
I’m telling EVERYBODY.
All this ethereal crap — WHAT EXACTLY is repression? What the hell does this MAN know about that? He knows NOTHING. His FEELING is bullshit. I was blwon away looking back on this… because I didn’t see it at all. I don’t know what to do this second, but that was insane. And if I see SAM, I ain’t pretending like I even want to fucking SEE HER. She introduced me to LUNATICS! I swear to God, if i get on a real mic, mother fucker, I’m going to BLOW. And it’s bigger than this asshole, it’s the whole I’m psychic, an empath, repressed trauma WHATEVER.
“You might be going through these experiences…”
“WHAT?”
He’s number one on my shit list, this Hollywood guru. Number one. And look, my Neapolitan cousins my witness, if you FUCK with a Neapolitan, beware. Because we don’t give a shit. If I see that MAN, I’m going to BLOW. You know? Going quietly into the night, laughing at Sorrentino, imagining him, a Neapolitan, thinking about a Neapolitan who was manipulated, and going quietly into the night? Not happening. This is not Silent Night — we do not sing that song here. We sing MY WAY by Frank Sinatra. Our capacity to get UPSET is ANCIENT and COSMIC. I couldn’t even believe this man, looking back on all this? Was he retarded?
The man called me CARL JUNG, okay? He’s NUMBER ONE. Number one on my shit list. Disgusting.