SELF-HELP a memoir of the secret thoughts of Lester H. DaMolestre.
Lester says to his girlfriend ":why do i want to continue the cycle of being down and why do i ask myself why other people put up with me before i bother to ask ME why i put up with ME. I truly want to stop living the way i have been hiding all this bs."
and so our story starts….deep seated at the base of a confused human psychi,
the town i was born in an chose to stay in has always crawling with cowboy boots and nascar hats. its basically like creating something and then telling it straight up, "you will never have what makes you reel whole-this my son is not possible. Instead we are born into this world and no one has the courtesy of telling us that its all fucked and everyone has holes they fill with smoke, dicks, and food but no one is happy feeling the cave between the front and back of them. their core. I assume core strengthening exists to give a little bit of an illusion you can thicken the sides out until they touch, filling the void inside. this doesn't work. core exercises are a way of selling housewives the regurgitated yoga ball video they never watched in 1982. now they can straighten their spine and reach up , which is another ridiculous misconception about self. a straight back is a sign of some sort of unnatural locked muscle spasm. we were never in tended to have out chest out and back straight. this misconception will present itself in multiple ways in a young adults life, working at a burger place "working on" himself, his posture, his level of being that is relaxed. he will watch the hunk ladies man in the group of 30 or so mixed ethnicity young people. He will notice how striving to fix himself all day really hurts by lunch break, and he has to smoke twice as many cigarettes to talk himself into keeping up the good work. the hunk will remain relaxed and slack while flipping burgers, he works a double without a lunch and his face and body show no signs of pain. while the young gullible bastard that read somewhere to pull upward and put shoulders down and back is contorting and twisting to the sky trying to fake confidence and enjoying life. this is sad. this boy will attempt to improve and correct himself for the next 8 years because its what he read probably in a magazine, inside a dream after too much coffee after a day of wondering why life hurts so much and physically can't relate to others. he will acquire a great friend, someone who is fatherless too. they will share a pipe on weeknights and weekends, share stories and feelings. this friend would be slouched, sometimes even rolling asleep staring at his solar bone. the boy liked how his friend looked and was considered of a similar build. he just couldn't understand how people could relax enough to fall asleep in public, or at friends. he never trusted someone enough to let his guard down and be seen not trying hard with no results to improve his life like some sort of martyr. His friend sat their in his chair asleep while the boy carefully removed the pipe from his finger and thumb and loaded what remained of the strangely black high grade marijuanna on his friends desk. he took the bowl to the bathroom and stood staring at himself blank in the mirror. his inner voice had a hint of sarcasm and cruelty saying "you will never be good enough, you've been working on your posture for 8 years," in those 8 years the only people he met that worked on their posture were idiots, whores, and fools. never making the connection between himself trying for something that was flat out wrong, and his old body the way he used to feel as a child completely care free of eyes, or vertical alignment. what was he missing that after all these years? why wasn't him correcting himself working? a normal person a kind friend might suggest he was never broken, he burned the block in the pipe and thought "i'm broken beyond repair" as he disappeared behind the thick exhale of what tasted like a strange incense he had an unexplainable vision. he did not exist, there was no him to fix, he simply was a movement in a fisheyes lens at the end of a hallway of mirrors. he felt no judgement as he watched this being morph into all other forms you could imagine, either slinking or exploding right when you thought it would settle. there was no he to be fixing, he was the same as everything else which is carefully broken in this world.
the boy had been awoken to a banging on the bathroom, he must have fallen asleep staring at himself in the mirror. he linked eyes with himself before he turned to open the door. it was not a critical hateful glare that gazed back but a soft innocent vulnerability you would recognize from a horse or a dog. the door banged and he unlocked the handle and swung it open, it was his friends roommate, he was invasive and rude as usual, but the boy did not flinch like he normally was used to automatically agreeing with the lack of acceptance from the outside world. he knew he was just as wrong as they thought and he was ashamed and sorry for it, apologizing at the floor while trying to have a straight back. no, this time the boy just walked through the accuser. he stepped through his body which had no change in temperature, then his vision exploded as he walked all the way through the other human being. the human froze still in mid fist shaking at the bathroom door, he was facing the mirror deeper on, he toke note of this for some reason. The boy turned early into the white hallway wall and proceeded through its thin layer into the other roommate, her name was shannon he always remembered because of the size of her tits. she was getting humped like a tortoise from behind by her greasy boyfriend from south of france. the boy stood behind the flapping asses and took a step forward, his shoulders slumped and cool relaxation. the humans fucking had froze just like he for some strange reason knew they would. he stayed inside the girl for a while and look ed at a mud die strange hole that had an almost hose like sys tem from her lower chest to the holes in her mouth, ass and cunt. the veins that lead to it were frozen in a guzzling beating motion that looked like they were delivering needed food to the muddy dark hole. it was strange to see something so jelly fish like inside a human. what had he smoked, or what had smoked him in the bathroom he thought was just pot? he carried on with a disgustsd look on his face, for having such huge tits, he was disappointed at how ugly and needy the endless pit inside of shannon was. he did some more exploring walking through the 3rd story of the entire apartment complex built out of old brownstones in bedford stuyvesant brooklyn new york. he was amazed as he could travel with this super like power, never stretching in an akward unnatural direction, just flowing on with his childlike curiosity never guessing twice at what he felt and was shown. the hasedic jews 2 stairways down were in the middle of changing their first borns first diaper, the child revealed a hole like shannons that took up the entirety of the babes body, the parents hands were like fat snakes swallowing a tiny mammal leading from the translucent oversized hole disguised as a newborn. the parents chubby caterpillar tubes lead to a unique deep suction looking hole in her chest, and his lower stomach around the bellybutton where his pants were belted around much to tight. i stared for a while and decided i don't need to know what that is. the child freaked me out, it was like a black hole or inversion of life, taking bricks of it off the parents and laying rows of walls in himself, stealing the already half dead married couples life-force what was sure to be every minute. the newborns eyes looked like a predator not that of a horse of friend of man. his sinister lack of grin and eyes was all made up for in a strange sense that it was not aware of others. only of itself. I scurried down to the street , everything was going on at normal speed, but so colorful, and when i made physical contact with whatever it was stopped and froze and slowly darkened like blinds being pulled revealing the innards and what was happening on a purely spiritual or metaphysical plane. i could see summaries of what makes these people breathe, and most of it was the same as shannons a big fat hole wired to some important part of them if not multiple.
I went to broadway and headed towards my street, I was in deep understanding of what i'd been watching, not thought or judgement just a silent approval. i walkd like a stray dog that was just fed, strutting the neighborhood looking for whatever would pull its attention. everything pulled my attention it had been 3 sun up and 5 sun downs somehow since i had left the mirror at my friends. i was examining everything like the first bikini poster i saw as a very young boy, getting close so i can smell the magazine and not knowing what i should do with the parts of myself that reacted. although i wanted more, i was carefree. i was absorbing the truth about life, and i promised without promising i would never forget what lies beneath the surface. i would always remember the alien starvation that comes from a biased intelligence on an overgrowded lump of matter. we were all protruding and intruding at the same borders, like we were instantly killing every breath we had, like we were putting a knot at the end of our capabilities to keep us grounded to our great spirit earth. it didn't feel all as one however like my vision that lead me to this what i now know as extreme temporary enlightenment. its funny the black weed i smoked was salvia soaked in fremaldyde (PCP) so I had initially experienced ego loss and then relaxed my spine which had been clenched ffor almost a decade. the relaxation released a rare hormonal change that has never been felt before. its like holding down a jack in the box, and with every year the steel strengthens then when its released it breaks through the box containing itself and stretches towards the sky. i had floated learning about our truth for about 40 days and i assume the same number of nights. I didfnt stop for anything, everything stopped for me, the unleashed inner supercharged ultra innocence i had been squeezing since my first self help book. the opposite, do yourself a favor and never try and fix yourself, you'll just end up fucking yourself up so bad nothing can reverse the damage. even quadruple that amount of self love and praise.
I am taken back to my critical self when for some reason the brick wall of the corner store doesn't let me defile it by mocking its solicity. I smack my knee first and in less than a second my head with a hard thick slap. the sound reminds me of how everyone in the 9th grade got to gather after school to watch an interracial "pawg" video at my friend cases house. all the kids smoked weed exclusively off of tinfoil , much like one would chase a melting chunk of black tar heroin…this never worked with the low grade tobacco based" pot" we were dealt with back then and one kid must have caught his older brother smoking sheets of cocain or heroin, then that same kid sought out marijuanna because thats what his brother had told him he was doing, he then convinced himself he was getting ass over dick baked via this faulty method and showed his friend, who had the same strong hypocondriact tendencies and believed he was high. when in reality the 9th grad was just toasting marijuanna buds like bread, it would make them smell moderately but never smoke…its strange how people claimed they smoked such a big hit the night before they actually blew out smoke. invicles. confused boners with misdirected interests. we were at myles on the sofa watching this blonde "phat ass white girl" "taking huge loads from BBC: I thought it was british but later learned it meant BIG BLACK COCK. the feeling reminded me of watching that video the smack of her thick thighs being pounded poolside by some thug her husband owed money to. this made the exact same sound of my tripped out freak experience coming to a quick end as mother natures big black wall didn't budge as i paraded without hesitation into it.. it was strange how fucked i felt, ts like my spine cocked back when i hit and snapped forward like a slingshot when i flattened out in the middle of the sidewalk. habits from correcting my posture made me pull up when i had a hunch i was punching myself with a wall, this dislocated my head until i landed and my head crawled slowly back to my neck like a ski dish baby crab. after the flash of fat pussy and thighs getting pile driven i thought about crabs, my girlfriend told my friend that she got crabs from my other semi friend -rival character. I heard through the grape vine what i wanted to keepswept under the denial rug created by such a gorgeous girl dating a guy like me. all sorts fof things hid under there, like i wear the pants in the relationship, and 'she can't find someone as good as me' or even i'll weigh more than she does zoon to the blatant lies labeled truth under the rug- like 'i'm gonna be a good dad' and she is just a social drinker and 100% devoted to my mentally slippery, addiction ridden genetic makeup. i know you didn't mean to twist such a god awful bad apple out of your week ring yang shaped body exploration. but thanks I bet at that keg you didn't ask him who each others parents were, then weigh the pros and cons of the combination. an abomination, i'm surprised my conscious voice hasn't started overlapping with my physical voice. theres a long history of that. my crabs start itching as i'm laying there thinking about my first visual exploitation of a woman's holes, what i'd just experienced on my salvia endured PCP disassociation from the human race, and then i felt my head and knee as i was stuck on the confirmed taboo truth i was almost afraid to remember. but i remember that i didn't want to forget exactly what it was like, that being said, thats all i could remember. i forgot all pure truth and whatever my beautiful sacred mammal eyes gazed upon, i remember it as "I'm wrong and everyone is shit, babies are extra huge pieces of shit" with every word though in that sentence another was hammered to my inner skull on the soft shame reserved real estate i formally kept guilt. but this was shame like reading a sing a long song " babies are extra huge pieces of shit" this tiny green version of key hoved watching the words highlight from left to right in that yellow fuzzy outline that went to the beat of magic school bus, or mother goose videos. that green fairy also hammered them with a giant pickaxe backend in reverse almost like it knew what i had said but working on the last letter of the first word. he was a bastard, he burned that in as HERE LIES A BASTARD …. it made me pay for what i couldn't help, all my life i've made myself pay, others never cared how much i've strived for absolute harmony and perfection. i was so hard because i maintained a nice living room, sure there was hair growths behind the picture frames, lizard skin at the chandelier base, and even finaly ground and scented denial swept under the rug. to myself i could think ok this is good i'm doing good, while ignoring all my instinct just to appear like what i thought i should be….i should have never started thinking i should be anything other than what I was. that godamned power of now book, that calm talking third eyed half indian half godly eckahrt toley and his power of fallse blasphemous lies was labeled as undetectable good thoughts. and somehow became more believed than the truth , because it sounds good. an addict doesn't have a vision and stop being an addict like his story told, an addict has a vision then wakes up in the ER from an overdose or hears a familiar sound and is brought to the top of the psychedelic formula and skis down to the bottom only to be brought up again until the drug whears off.. but this mother fucker actually hear a bird, and then quit his job and became some sort of neo folky sidartha monk figure douching around parks looking totally intense pissing off the park bench while sitting normally. he calls this pure being. now the bastards rich….and even christian households own at least a burnt cd audio book of his manipulative bank account targeting the easiest of the easiest, the part of the flock that doesn't believe in themselves. its sad that self help is a genre, inventory even. and this story is aimed at all you pre pubescent teeny boppers thinking all deep listening to that generations version of the cure, you are just going through puberty, and when you're finished going through it , it will feel exactly like going through it and just know that its you and you're ok and your poster is going to suck because its the computer age, and your family is going to be dysfunctional because they speak english in america and your body will try and reveal the simple obvious signs to you by disobeying and fighting back, tricking you into making you think your wrong, when your bodies just saying its right to be wrong. two negatives equal a wrong, three positives equal fabricated wants sheared by your forefathers across every generation getting more misjudged and inverted, slit opened tithed up and screwed sideways that anal sex will be weird…just wait anal sex will soon be the smarter sex, and why you think that is because of pornography. you used to believe the asshole was gross to see in the same shot as dick going in vagina, now its clearly the better hole because it magically feels better than the other, you won't be fooled by this illusion long. the asshole is inferior to pussy and mouth in texture and lubrication, but where it gets its winning points is it is painful. not just some discomfort like oral sodomy, it is a forced tearful instantly regretted sin done by only the truest of lovers. only to be agreed to upon drunken deal bet sex, or quit smoking cigarettes for a designated period. these normal things may be rewarded with smelly brown leaking butt sodomy if your partner really loves you that is. also girls who ACTUALLY read more bukowski that you have even though when you met them they had lied about reading him, now surpass you in manliness and are more badass and comfortable with aged morally deficient drunkard ideas and themselves than you'll ever be. you will also learn that you usually quite like something you could have sworn to black jesus you hated, this is just a phase that you will eventually love or hate again, opinions are like shit…they change with what you eat. and my final advice to whoever will get a scrambled translation of my shame brain bulletin board as i lay on a shitty sidewalk bleeding out with a fat black woman holding my head doubling the current of blood gushing from my right ear, cutting my final 5 minutes into 2.5 i think i wanted to tell you to agree with yourself. it will generally hurt to be alive, you are a mutant struggling combination of things that should go together , so don't think your less than others because others will always keep this secret tightly locked on top of their denial rugs, they will never cut themselves open and ask others questions they know no one can know the answer to. they don't do this because they aren't nearly as gifted with the presence of self some more or less evolved differently other people can be. live life lovingly, trust what is there , help others be favored in general comfort, if you like someone look at why you like them, and though you are most likely very different still take into account what attributes are stacked under the attraction you have for the kindred spirit. do you have similar flaws? they fill your whole and you theirs, and all holes are lacking no matter what the size each one is missing more than it can handle living without.
Lester H. DaMolestre' was rushed to the hospital where he died in the ambulance on the way, the EMT knew him from high school and held a murderous grudge.
and remember Lester in his sac relig makeshift grave stuffed with VHS videos and alive with crabs that spawned herpes swords on the back-
don't help yourself !!!!