Reddit reviews Juggling in a Trash Can for Satan: The Tell-All Tale of an Insane, Homeless Juggler Starting a Sex Cult

Let the Amazonians destroy me how they will.

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

I do. I juggle. And write. And beat box. And rap. And urinate in public. And learn three languages. And run a sex cult. And do sales. And philosophize. I'm a published author, actually.

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.

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.

I managed to get housing through the help of Catholic Charities, but I immediately started descending to abusing drugs again. In a sick twist of fate, my roommate flashed me, which gave me an understanding of how dirty I must have made people feel. I started to fall apart again.

Then the aliens returned full power, and the idea of taking the cult out to the west coast came in fast like a rapist with a new york minute to spare. After getting hired and then fired from Spectrum for using the bathroom I felt most comfortable in, I had enough money to make the trip, and I left without saying goodbye to anyone.

Despite arriving in Eugene again via Greyhound, I had a rough landing. My performance art routine of my autobiographical character, the one you’re reading right now, got me run out of town for soliciting a man to lease his dog to our cult. Not my smartest choice, but it was necessary to test the waters to see what would work and what wouldn’t.

After I ran all the way to Florence, I had a breakdown which sent me back to Eugene in the hospital. After a week there, I got sent up to Portland the day before the big Proud Boy Rally. That was a hell of a welcoming party, and made me realize how much my message of unconditional love needed to be spread. I focused on getting my word out, but wound up falling apart while being homeless, and eventually spent six weeks inpatient - the longest hospital stay I’ve ever had. I’m currently writing this in the respite where I am staying with no idea where I am going to be after the fact. My story is ongoing, and I will continue to evolve with every passing day.

Hm...what else? Oh wait! Did I say I was a serial killer? I’m sorry, I misled you. I am ashamed that I have seven tally marks carved into my arm with no meaning. I wish that I was even a rapist, or a child molester, so that they could have some deeper spiritual significance. Instead, they all happened as a result of drug-fueled delusions.

Which is all my life really is once you get right down to the nitty-gritty of who I really am. I am a schizoaffective weirdo who was a pervert but turned celibate and wants to awaken the world to its full potential in the most bizarre and hilarious means possible. Love is the most powerful force on the planet, and self-love is our first love. It doesn’t matter who you are or what you’ve done, you should always love yourself. Even if you’re a deranged Nazi Pedophile who is an ex-public masturbator who currently would be down for some sweet coitus with her sister. And we should not pass judgment to others, because you never know what a person is going through or has been through. Love purely and totally.

That’s all folks!

No joke.

Nope. I flex my free will just as I flex my massive penis.

😃😄😁😁😁😘😘😘😘