What is Reddit's opinion of Juggling in a Trash Can for Satan: The Tell-All Tale of an Insane, Homeless Juggler Starting a Sex Cult?

Write a book you say? ;P

My advice for writing is to always write, even if it's just stream of consciousness garbage. The more you use a skill, the better you get, and eventually you will be able to shoot from the hip and create something amazing at will.

Let the Amazonians destroy me how they will.

You can read more about it in my book.

I mean he's selling an ebook on Amazon for $3.33 titled Juggling in a Trash Can for Satan: The Tell-All Tale of an Insane, Homeless Juggler Starting a Sex Cult.

https://www.amazon.com/Juggling-Trash-Can-Satan-Tell-All-ebook/dp/B07MYFCB55

The second half is where shit gets fun.

I look pretty sexy, thank you very much

Not a good one, but I have.

Ignore my deadname

You want intense?

Now armed with a real set of balls that gave me a sense of self-worth and identity, I felt unafraid enough to challenge the CIA in their game of “being outside.” I had grown mostly agoraphobic during this period of my early twenties, which made getting a job an impossibility. With this new confidence, I was able to find work as a dishwasher, wherein I was given a wide berth for my anger issues which would play out regularly. Regardless, my industriousness, speed, and reliability earned me the nickname “the miracle dishwasher.”

It also earned me a girlfriend. I had a number of small flings during the first three or four years of my twenties, but nothing lasted more than a month or so. This girl who I found on Okcupid would become the second person who I thought would be my soulmate. And you know what they say “third time’s the charm.”

Our relationship started with me treating her as a liaison to get weed, as my relationships often turned into. I was much more interested in drugs than I was in genuine love and affection, despite moping around every day when I was alone and wondering why no one liked me. But, there was something different about this girl. She saw something in me. Or maybe it was because I was the first boyfriend she had that didn’t horribly rape her. Regardless, she grew on me like a fine mold.

I loved her for most of our relationship. She was a mystic pagan with a heart of pure gold. She knew so much to help heal me. When we were about a year into our relationship, I had the most mystical experience of my life. We were on our first LSD trip together. During it, I became acutely aware that I was receiving tinnitus from my computer. I typed a message into the URLbar, and a pop up appeared asking if I wanted to upgrade a browser extension. Clearly this was the red or blue pill question from the Matrix: I was going to be upgraded by the aliens themselves!

Shortly after, we experienced a period of telepathy with each other, and looking at the sky proved it was a hologram. A couple days later, I got invited to a subreddit, The Shrug Life Syndicate, wherein a number of synchronous events happened. I came to believe that these were the aliens, and my mission was back online, albeit in a much different form.

I immediately quit my job. My girlfriend and I had much more important things to do: we had a world to save. Following the synchronicities, I wrote, trying to teach people as Jesus once did. I should mention that during the period I was incredibly depressed, I did some black magick to keep myself alive wherein I came to believe I actually was the second coming. And my girlfriend was Mary Magdeline, and there was nothing that could stop us.

It took a cult to break us apart. Rather, it took a predatory organization posing as a non-profit to take advantage of us, turn us against each other, and make us see that we are two very different people. Overall, a horrifically traumatizing experience, but it taught me to love myself first. The entire thing was dastardly clever and gave me a really good understanding of how cults work and what I should avoid doing in my own cult.

But this was before those plans truly came to fruition. My girlfriend and I were looking for a community; something where we could be ourselves away from the pressures of conforming into common culture. I eventually found a lead while writing an advertisement for unicorn poop. I started working as a writer for an organization known as the Awakening Sovereignty Collective. During this time, they changed their name to Earth Nation and offered us both positions working with them in their headquarters across the country outside of Eugene, Oregon. They advertised that they had an eleven million dollar property. In reality, they were leasing a two million dollar property from a board of directors that they were functionally bribing to be there.

But, we didn’t know this at the time. We did not know we were joining an organization of blood magick practitioners who dabbled in human slavery. In fact, the first night at Triangle Lake made it seem like a paradise. It was a slow and deliberate transition where we were conditioned through shaming and meticulously planned events to give us the idea that everything they were doing was acceptable. They got us into a state of fear where all that mattered was trying to satisfy the immediate needs of ourselves and the group.

We gradually came to see the whole organization as shady and literally scamming people out of their money. However, there were others who saw this as well. Through a planned schism, they won back our loyalty as we joined their tentacle organization, LoveCycle. The woman who ran it was a sociopathic demon who scarred both of us for life. But, for the longest time we saw her as the wisest sage on the planet who was kind enough to take us under her wing when we were abandoned by the rest of the group.

That woman’s name was Daniella, and she and LoveCycle are burned into my mind forever. We met the first day at Triangle Lake, where her excellent powers of observation and deduction helped her figure out our traumas. When she wasn’t sunbathing naked or doing something completely inappropriate in town to attract attention to herself and her twisted message of love, she was either cooking, cleaning, or actively torturing us through psychological and emotional manipulation.

We left Triangle lake right around Christmas and wound up in an intentional community called Heartland in northern California. There, for New Year’s Eve, we participated in a blindfolded trance dance. Something happened to me during the dance. I went to the center of my traumas, and came out the other side hating existence as a whole. I call this state of being “the hollow” as it literally felt like I was hollow like a flame. Nothing mattered, and there was no joy in the world. I wound up hurting my girlfriend, stealing, and generally descended into other sociopathic behavior like eating for the rest of our stay there.

We left and headed to Lakeport, where a metal sculptor and professional pyromaniac offered us a place to stay for a few months. We helped him burn down his mountain a few times and did other work to earn our stay. Mostly we annoyed the townspeople with our antics. For instance, when we were waiting for guitar lessons one day, she went across the street to the waterfront and found a dead turkey, likely hit by some speeding motorist. Obviously this meant that we had to perform a blood magick ritual and harvest the wings and feathers, as they were valuable. I am all for self-expression and stepping outside the comfort zone of society, but there was something very awkward about standing there right off of Main Street and watching her hack the bird apart while cars zoomed by.

The town obviously knew who we were. We stood out like a sore thumb and Daniella did everything she could to be noticed, including wearing beet juice all over her face once. I never realized just how out of place we were until far down the line, after we escaped. The people that helped separate us from her told us that the town knew us as “The Manson Family.”

Eventually, we moved on to a beautiful property that was just outside of Lakeport that was owned by two of the kindest people I have ever met. This is where Daniella really finished sinking her claws into me and turning me into a zombie in her image. Gradually, I was reduced to laboring for ten hours a day in one hundred degree heat. Giving up on life, I tried cutting into my arm to get to the hospital. The plan failed, but it alerted the property owners that something was up with our group. They began poking and prying, and eventually separated us from Daniella.

They helped us return home via train, and I stayed with my girlfriend for another month before we broke up. I went back home where I went into the hospital and also had a breakdown which led to the series of events that are detailed in my first book Juggling in a Trashcan for Satan, also available on Amazon. To summarize, I spiraled into homelessness during the following winter while finally exploring my deranged sexuality with other people. I also spent this time starting to piece together the final plan the aliens had for me. The movement I was to create was a sex cult and it would awaken the population by expanding the boundaries of the culture until the Illuminati bubble of protection popped.