Read Mind Blower for Free Online

Gurdjieffite who claimed to be in contact with the ghost of Madame Blavatsky. I now pressed for further details about Tocco's method.  
    "I dislike that word," he said. "Life is too flowing, too changeable to be understood in terms of any method. There is method in my madness, that is true, but it is only an afterthought, a rationalization. It is the madness, the passion for living which is primary.  
    "In our society, everything is a lie. You walk down the street and look at the joggling breasts and tight-skirted asses and in five minutes there are a dozen woman you want to fuck and who would like nothing better than to be fucked. But you are not allowed to do it. Moreover, you are not even allowed to think it. You censor yourself. The women are brainwashed to believe that they can't just drop their panties and enjoy a thick cock without protestations of affection and security. So we have these millions of cocks and cunts and asses and nipples and mouths and hands, all useless, all involved in inane activities like shuffling paper or counting money or shooting guns. No wonder we get to go around like zombies. Everyone is afraid, everyone lies.  
    "And in an attempt to cover up our emptiness, our inability to drink deeply from life, we invent myths about the family and fidelity and chastity. We wallow in jealousy and possessiveness, and dare to call that love. And so the hypnosis permeates to our very marrow. In this atmosphere those fools, those so-called scientists, want to discover what sex is about. They print up questionnaires and take photos of color changes in rectal tissue. Of course a woman's asshole turns purple when she comes, everyone knows that! This idiotic research is like trying to understand breathing in a room filled with carbon monoxide.  
    "What we do here at ISM is very simple. We drop all sham. Immediately. We realize that we are all animals. That we all want to fuck, and suck, and eat shit, and kill, and love, and come, and lick, and touch, all the time, with everyone, it doesn't matter who, so long as certain functional requirements are met. We are working on analyzing out these very functions. And the first thing we throw out, like a piece of filthy garbage, is this precious notion of individual personality.  
    "This gets to the core of metatheatre. For every facet of our beloved personality, every thought, every mood, every attitude, every value, every conviction, is nothing but the flimsiest stage trapping, and if a human being is to have true inner dignity, he or she must be able to put on and take off these psychological costumes with the 'ease of changing a hat or a pair of gloves."  
    His voice had risen to a high pitch and his face was flushed. He began to cough, and took a long slow sip of water to help it subside. "I'm sorry, Michael," he said, "but it is a topic I still grow passionate about. Human stupidity makes me apoplectic. But let's return to you. Have you formulated your sexual interests in any specific form?"  
    After his polemic, my problem seemed somewhat petty, and I had difficulty in beginning. "I am involved with what I have come to call an imageorgasm," I began. "It is possible for me to have full simultaneous physical orgasm with someone, but it is not really satisfying unless our minds somehow are in harmony. I don't quite know what I mean by that, except that on rare occasions I have fucked with someone where my head felt as delicious and warm and soft as my cock did afterwards. And I wonder if there isn't a way to tune in with someone so that we share the same fantasy, and walk together in our minds the way we do in our bodies. If, for example, during sex I turn into an Egyptian god, how do I know that my partner is responding to that element as well as the purely physical manifestations?  
    "Otherwise, there is a feeling of solitude which is sublime when I am alone, but too weighty to bear when I am lodged deep in a woman's cunt."  
    Tocco looked thoughtful. "It