Sunday, July 24, 2016

Beyond Xebulan: Interview With A Savage


I can see more clearly now: I've been sent here to remind me nothing can exist outside of love. The futility and tragedy of trying do so begets horrors no sentient being should ever witness. I used to know that! The anger of this planet's self-betrayal blinds them into madness and unlivable regret. Unforgivably, they see triumph in their sin, crowing to the heavens of how they've robbed the future for the present. Having no understanding of the time dimension, they do not realize those things are one in the same.

Still, our Maker made them for a reason, value must be somewhere. That makes me curious. As an unsaved planet, I cannot expose my true self upon pain of instant death but their blindness to themselves makes them blind to me as well. In this I do hide. I found a group of ordinary workers. They laugh and bicker as if all were well and clouds of doom are not darkening in the sky. It's both enraging and pitiful at the same time. I have to know more.

I watched on their communication portal a man exposing the frailty of a crumbling bridge. He said, in fact, many many more are just like it. I found that quite shocking but was even more disturbed by the overall non-reaction. Each of these beings has the light of the Maker within so how do they reconcile willful self-endangerment? I went to the bridge in question to ask the aborigine workers of their rationale.

"Greetings and salutations! May I ask you of that bridge behind you?"

"Sure, what of it?

"It seems to be in some disrepair and will at some point present imminent danger to humanoid life."


"You're not from around here, are ya?"

"That would be an accurate statement."

"Then what ya so worried about a damn bridge for?"

"You see, I am curious why it's not repaired in a timely fashion."

"Haha, OK, pal. You wanna fund it you can fix it anytime. Be my guest!"

"That's because of your rule of money."

"Them that gots the money makes the rules, yessiree."

"Yes, what I don't understand is that money is something you simply print on pieces of paper, no? If you need more, then just print more!"

"Man, it don't work like that."

"Why not?"

"It just don't, OK? All sorts of things would happen."

"Like what?"

"Well, none of us exactly knows...Hey, Andrew! You're the smart guy. Get over here. This guy got no understanding of money or economics."

"Yes, Andrew. I hear complaints of money shortages but don't understand the reason for not simply printing more of it if needed."

"Money is a commodity like any other. The more of it there the less it's worth therefore the more you print the more money it takes to equal the same amount of purchasing power. Thus printing more is pointless."

"But that's your choice! It's not a law of nature!"

"But it's a law of economics."

"But money paper only has the value you assign it. It can be anything you want!"

"That's for the markets to decide. It can't be just whatever we wish."

"Yes! Yes, it can! Pretending it's not so doesn't make it any less true. You base your world on a fiction within your own minds."

"It's not a fiction if everyone agrees it's not."

"Agreement of what? Self-enslavement? Disagree and you'll be free. It would be more productive to take all that paper and use it to fuel a fire."

"Hey, pal. Before you go burning your money, hand it over to me first!"

"I'm not speaking individually, but collectively as a society."

"You suggest we go to some sort of barter system? Civilization has progressed way beyond that!"

"Not when you can't fix one broken bridge! And besides, you're already on the barter system, there's no way around it. Everyone trades for what they need every day. This artifice you've created only hinders it, sometimes to the point of death. That's insanity!"

"That's capitalism! The greatest way of life ever invented. It was capitalism that built that bridge in the first place."

The workers grumbled at that statement. "Naw, Andy, our fathers built that bridge. Took half their lives and we're damn proud of it."

"Nothing gets built without funding first!"

"Nothing gets built with funding alone, neither!"


This is a perfect example of there love/hate relationship with their "money" concept. On one hand they see it as their provider and savior while at the same time extremely bristling at the chains it brings to their lives. They are of two minds and the longer they stay that way naturally the more angry and miserable they become. They let this fictional paper run their lives even to the point of murder, I kid you not. What's most deflating is the pride they take in their perceived cleverness! They have made a foundation of their greed for their society (and even marriages!) and in the process sanctified it as the will of the Maker of the universe. A complete and utter anarchy devolving into dystopia. The proof is all around them to see!

I was forced to bring up what they mutually deny in what I can only call a planet-wide conspiracy. "What I fail to see is the responsibility of these decisions. How is allowing hunger responsible? How is poisoning this planet responsible? [I almost said "your planet"!] How can allowing all this unnecessary human misery be deemed responsible?"

"I'll tell you what's not responsible! Depending on people to share - now that's a fairy tale! I don't know where you get your ideas from but that's crazy commie talk you're speaking. We got things figured out pretty good already, thank you very much. So I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your subversive ideas to yourself."

"Says the man who says he "cannot" fix a bridge!"

"Nothing's is perfect. Don't like things here, then move on!"

"Why move when all you need is to make things responsible?"

"Enough of your silly talk. Let me tell you how it really has to be: each man for himself. Each person has to make his own way and no other person can do it for him. It's up to the individual to get what he needs and make his life right. You people expecting the world to make your life right are going to be sorely disappointed! It's all on you! How's that for being responsible??"

"I'm confused. Are you speaking of money - or of love?"

"Love, of course. - I mean - "

And there we had the truth of it.


Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Honoring The Police

I, for one, do think the Police are due much more recognition than currently shown. Their body of work as a whole has been vastly underappreciated, oftentimes innovative, and their words of insight mostly ignored. Today, I seek to rectify this tragedy. Or to put it another way: "De do do do, de da da da, is all I want to say to you."

We live in a tragic, inhuman world. We raise up our destroyers and crucify our saviors. Opportunists seize the situation to put themselves on top on a mound of self-aggrandizement referencing words reflecting their own evil. They slither among us both revered and reviled but we always stand snake-fascinated in the end. If someone points this out, simply pretend not to notice.

Poets, priests and politicians
Have words to thank for their positions
Words that scream for your submission
And no one's jamming their transmission
And when their eloquence escapes you
Their logic ties you up and rapes you




We look for false solutions outside of love. These solutions can be many things, both clever and thoughtful. Some are even mandated in chains, they are given such credence! Relentless, endless continual campaigns run nonstop to convince us of the righteousness of the latest proposals. These proposals helplessly beg for acceptance, hopelessly bound by their proposers need for love. That's all this really is: a mad scramble for love. If only it weren't so destructive.

There is no political solution
To our troubled evolution
Have no faith in constitution
There is no bloody revolution




When our illusions are shattered by the brutal costs of protecting them, we dig the hole deeper as we cover ourselves in self-praise. In crisis we declare our hearts have changed for the better. We spout empty platitudes as if they were the greatest of proclamations to finally turn the corner on our ills. Then, when no one is looking, we drop the fa├žade and return to our wicked ways, triumphantly cackling on the success of our deception. But where does that get us in the end?

I resolved to call her up a thousand times a day.
And ask her if she'll marry me in some old fashioned way.
But my silent fears have gripped me long before I reach the phone
Long before my time has tripped me, must I always be alone?




Oh, and speaking of police, five cops were shot dead here in Dallas. Just for the record, I had nothing to do with it. I read the shooter was maligned as someone who never grew up. Wouldn't it be beautiful if they made that a crime! Of course, how would we ever find the lawmakers who'd be willing to jail themselves? Lots of people are pointing fingers and assigning blame to various groups and people for this crime, however, I don't hear anyone blaming these guys as part of the cause:

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Beyond Xebulan: Life Among The Savages

I never felt so alone stranded in the nebula as I have on this crowded planet.


This planet is an even worse hell than I imagined it could be. Maybe I would have been better off staying hopelessly inside the Xebulan Nebula after all. What can there possibly be for me on a nihilistic, backwards, barbaric place like this? What is the reward for facing life on an outpost not yet accepting the Universe? Yes, I too in a moment of insanity rejected the Universe but how is this any sort of answer even if it is the only portal out of a nebula?

Only by their willful ignorance do they survive the day. (The nights they are not surviving.) Their creed is to reject reality at all costs. We all know about these types of planets but to be on one is an entirely different matter living with the butchers who swing blades in a blind fury convinced of their righteousness. With these sort, there is no bargaining, there is no reasoning. When not on a death cult planet one assumes from afar there has to be at least a glimmer of hope for reason and sanity among the savages but I can tell you now there is none. My heart breaks irrevocably.

They live awash in a sea of illusions. I think part of their problems is the sheer amount of energy it takes to keep propping them up! The fact they are one world/one people is wholly foreign in their thoughts and actions. They take their self-made groupings seriously to the point of killing! Can you imagine the insanity? Identical beings killing one another over a fiction of difference? My head spins with these endless terms they use I cannot follow or understand. But I can say the most disturbing utterance I've heard is their proclamation they are more than one race!

So you see what I'm up against. "Nations". "Religions". "Parties". These things cannot be seen (because they don't exist) but they live and die by them! Who can understand it? Is this how my Maker felt when I ran from the Universe? Have I committed such insanity myself? Did I break the heart of my Maker by rejecting an obvious truth? It's horrible to think I've committed such a crime but it would make sense as to why I'm forced to witness the cruelty of an unsaved world like this one.


I will speak of their savagery but I feel few will believe it. They have the resources to feed themselves but great portions go hungry. They have the resources to house themselves but great portions are forced outdoors. Indeed, instead of acknowledging their mutual weaknesses, they use them against one another! A soul must be deemed "worthy" before having its needs met. And who is making these judgements? Savages, of course, because only a savage would have the gall to judge who should eat and who should not. It is no secret they believe they are their own god.

To even mention the idea of salvation is to risk one's life. How can there be hope when one cannot even start the conversation! I know it sounds like an exaggeration but it is not and I hope this writing can serve as a warning for those as foolish as I. To propose cooperation over coercion is blasphemy to them (even as their coercion is naturally the true blasphemy). They have endless false excuses on why cooperation cannot be but surely the most outrageous is stating the Maker wishes they oppress by withholding vital needs from each other.

I cannot fully express the unpleasantness of living here. Story goes when the Savior came he was mocked, tortured and killed by the cruelest means possible. They even brag about it daily! "He died for our sins," they boast. They've obviously yet to realize that killing to hide your sins makes them no less visible to the Maker. This is a tragedy beyond words. From what I understand they've been senselessly arguing about who the murdered Savior would love most ever since. Is there no end to their disbelief?


Instead of banding together as they need to, they relentlessly pursue better and better ways to destroy one another, where the good is washed away with the bad. They feverishly work on devices of self-destruction - all in the name of preventing destruction! I can tell you I can see no way one can value one's life on a planet like this. Do not make a death cult worse by coupling it with killing devices! How do they stand the weight of their worry?

But the scariest part by far is their fanatical allegiance to the death cult. These unpurged planets are unspeakable nightmares. I kid you not when I tell you they put poison in their air, land, and water. Then they tell you it's the only way to live! To suggest otherwise incurs a wrath and hatred that will not brook the disagreement of even one. "There is no other possible Way!" Using the weight of sheer numbers, the spiritually retarded rule here in absolute confidence though they know on some level their time is short.

They define the perversity of their death cult with numbers. I guess they picked numbers as a god because they see them as finite, not requiring of faith. Before anything is done - no mater how obvious the need - they must first consult these mysterious numbers (don't ask me how they come up with them). If for example, a bridge is decaying and they could get hurt from it, do they fix it? No! They have to "See what the numbers say" first. No matter how critical, these illusory number gods come first.

I know I cannot complain of my misery having placed myself in this position. But miserable I am. They beg to live while needlessly agreeing to starve one another. They seek security by killing but reject the unstoppable power of peace. They speak of numbers as salvation - as if numbers were love. These things I must overcome. Having not finished my journey, I cannot speak to what the final wisdom is. I do know I have seen sorrow here on an unimaginable scale. Come here one and all, all ye doubters of the Maker! Come witness the unbearable hell created when the Maker is rejected, forsaking the only Way that works.



Sunday, July 10, 2016

A Letter To Chelsea Manning


Hi Chelsea,

Guess I'm in a letter writing mood lately. Hear you're having a rough time of it recently - and I just wanted to say that I am not! When I go to Ranger baseball games the whole crowd stands up and applauds me. And I get the best seat in the house too! I am very revered and untouchable in this life.

First, let's not forget it was not me who put you in jail but that large-eared black man in office now. That darkie hates truth-tellers even more than I did! Do you know why? That's because we Presidents lie for the good of the country. President Blackie was way on his high horse when he got into office but not now! His grey head says it all. Now even that traitor says what a fine American I am.

Lying is not a sin if God tells you to do it. I asked God, "Should I lie my country into a war?" And God said "Yes!" because in the end the world will be a better place. And I do have to say looking at the present condition of the Middle East that certainly proves the wisdom of God! We have won the war and except for a few remaining malcontents we have won the peace. Praise be to the Lord and good Christian soldiers!

So you see, once it's been determined you're on a mission (accomplished!) from God, then everything you do after that is OK! It's like a free pass, no truth allowed. Why people like you want to make trouble I just don't understand. What possible purpose can the truth serve? Sure our soldiers are fighting for oil but they are fighting for the freedom to lie too! Besides, who are any of us to question God who wants us to kill those evildoers and their stupid voodoo religion?


Someone told me that right now there are more soldiers dead from suicide than from combat deaths in God's war. That's only because they questioned God! It's always OK to put a bullet in someone as long as someone else is telling you to do it. God and generals don't stand for disobedience. That is a lesson you are learning every day.

Approval is a wonderful thing! Most people are very moral like I am. They understand others must be punished for our sins. Can't be jailing us good guys! Truth can do nothing but destroy this great country of ours and I'm here to protect it. Gandhi said there is no god higher than truth - then he got shot for it! We the Moral Mob wage jihad on you truth-tellers and purge you from us to keep us pure and to preserve our way of life. We live the good life because we are God's chosen.

Yes sir, don't see any Presidents trying to commit suicide, do you? We outsource our sin to keep us holy. If your jailors mistreat you you must understand it's only from the guilt they feel for punishing you for their own sins. Don't blame them for not being Presidents! It's hard to explain the thrill I get when I jog alongside some soldier whose legs I got blown off. How's that for ass-kissing! Think anyone will do that for you?

I hope when you get out you will have learned your lesson. Truth endangers us all. We must suppress it at all costs. Even President porch monkey understands that. If you do see the light of God and join us in protecting America's great and awesome lies then I would very much consider a visit from you at my Dallas mansion and allow you to kiss my ring and accept me as your savior like so many of the enlightened troops have. I write this to you, you see, in order to give you hope - to be a giddy, unrepentant, unconvicted, glorified war criminal like me!

GWB



Friday, July 08, 2016

A Letter To The End Of The World


Dear Emily,

It has crossed my mind you may have read connotations into my words that do not exist. When I say "I need you" that does not mean I have any sort of expectations. Quite the opposite. Far as I'm concerned there are seven billion people on this planet and all anyone has to say to me is, "Where's the rent?" The number of people who can help me is the same number who could have helped Jesus on the cross: zero. (Though in reality, of course, everyone)

The word "need" to me translates to "I'm fucked". "I'm fucked needing you" is what "I need you" means. If I could somehow turn hearing the phrase "I don't have time for you" into cash I'd truly be saved. But there is no prayer or any sort of wishful thinking that can change that. You just die. That's what life is really when you get down to it, picking your killer. Either you speak the truth and your fellow man kills you or you lie and God kills you. Pick your poison.

So my only goal at this point is to accelerate the end of the world. If by suppressing my talents I can help facilitate that then by all means that's what I hope to do. In its present state I cannot survive or live on this planet. Who knows, maybe nobody is. Only after rebirth can I breathe and live. And besides, how can I save souls when I can't save mine?

I think everyone is starting to realize these things. As such, delusional and magical thinking is on the rise. Each day we hear more and more hilarious scenarios of a future that can never be, extrapolated from a present they only imagined. My sole pleasure is in what time I do have to see them hit the ground of reality after jumping off their cliffs of delusion. I fear I won't get to see the biggest falls.


The current rage of hilarity is turning everything into a quasi moral endeavor. "Facecrook, we're connecting the world!" Connecting through the lens of their own immoral censorship, of course. Predatory Uber is out there saving lives and moron Tesla wants to ban human drivers. All these noble missions for our yearning millennials! True purpose is much harder to achieve, mein kampf.

So what to do about this tidal wave of lies and magical thinking? Agree with them! Tell them they are geniuses and visionaries and moral pillars (I've spoken of this before). They will actually call you "a true friend" for telling them it's a good idea to jump off that cliff. Anyone else is a Debby Downer! The only thing in actuality that has any hope of saving the world is Southern sarcasm.

Which brings me back to your Southern sarcasm, Emily. I have no hope of surviving it. I'd be helplessly slashed to pieces. I'm not saying it's misplaced, I'm saying this because it's not. So I'm in the position of avoiding the very person I need most. That might come as a shock to you because you are under the impression I am chasing you. But the reality is you are running from you, not me. God knows why.

You're the only person I ever met who did not make me apologize for my intelligence. (And also the only person I gave full revelation to.) I remember thinking, how could even my wife have that same quality? I'd be married and still need you! Who knows, maybe's it's like being in a band where you have that sort of marriage while at the same time having a personal marriage. God knows I wanted to be family with you down to the depths of my soul. Right or wrong, I just couldn't see how that could happen.

I see nothing but doom from this point. A sabotage of life. The world has been given over to self-fearing monsters. I can't wait for it to end. Somebody show me a reason not to (rhetorical, folks).


Saturday, July 02, 2016

Interrogation Unheard

It was louder in Heaven than on earth.

In the spotlight at last

Killer: I had to do it...I just had to. It's obvious. Why can't you smart guys see that?

Psychiatrist 1: Sorry. No, we don't understand. Why did you have to kill her?

Killer: To keep her silent. She was going to tell.

Psychiatrist 1: Tell what?

Killer: About me, you idiot. What do you think?

Psychiatrist 1: And what would she have told?

Killer: About my...failing. I'm a failure. Can't let anyone know you're a failure.

Psychiatrist 2: Everyone fails. Why can't yours be known?

Killer: Because! This is different. It's...total failure. Complete, total. You really can't tell the difference?

Psychiatrist 2: We're trying to now. So what would have happened had she told?

Killer: The end! End of everything! Damn, you guys are blind.

Psychiatrist 2: We don't understand how she could have said anything that needed her to die.

Killer: Then you're a moron. Just a matter of time. She'd of told and the whole world would of known. What about me, then? Whole world turns on me. You think that's a life? You can't be...

Psychiatrist 1: Everyone needs support. That's very understandable. So you had to kill her to keep her silent. Do you think the world is against you now?

Killer: No. Now you know. I was dead without her. Nobody would listen. I killed her because I was dead. Now you understand.

Psychiatrist 1: Because you needed her?

Killer: Because I need her.


Psychiatrist 1: But why now? What after all these years?

Killer: I ran out...I ran out of places to go...I ran out of time. I saw this movie and the guy kept asking the other, "What did you get? What did you get?" Turns out this other guy had done all his shit for nothin'. Everything he was doing...was for nothing.

Psychiatrist 2: So it came to you your life seemed pointless?

Killer: Exactly. Why would anyone think it anything else? Every day the same. Just black and alone, waiting on the nightmares that never leave or stop. Unwanted and unwantable. You goddam idiots want to live like that, go ahead. Don't ask me to keep doing it.

Psychiatrist 1: But you hadn't seen her in years. Since before you joined the army, correct?

Killer: She never left me head. It was always her. I joined to get away from her but it only made things worse.

Psychiatrist 2: But you wanted to be with her. So why leave?

Killer: I told you! I failed, OK? I fucking failed! Make you goddam happy to hear it?

Psychiatrist 1: But after your deployment in the Middle East was over, you didn't try to contact or see her then?

Killer: What for? Why would she have anything to do with me? I wasn't any better. I just wanted keep runnin'. I thought...I don't know what I thought.

Psychiatrist 2: Can you tell us about your experience during your deployment?

Killer: They tell you you can be a hero. But I was far away. I saw I got to kill people and make their lives miserable like mine. When I heard their screams it was like they was my screams. It felt good. Some of the guys couldn't take it. Jennings and Smithers offed themselves when they got back. Those screams haunted them. None of you fuckers would listen to them, either.

Psychiatrist 2: Listen to what? What was unheard?

Killer: Their pain.

Psychiatrist 1: And you had that pain too?

Killer: Not their pain. My pain. No one cares about your pain unless you do like I did and kill someone they don't want killed. You people are something, always keeping a blind eye. You call us heroes because you hate us. You just want to keep using us and you're afraid we'll wake up and stop killin' for ya. Well, maybe it's you who should wake up.

Psychiatrist 2: Wake up to what?


Killer: I wasn't killin' for my "cuntry". I was just killin' to kill. One day we're going to kill you too. That's right. Right in your own fancy homes and green streets where kids get to play. Places I couldn't go no more.

Psychiatrist 1: Who said? Who said you can't go to those places?

Killer: My insides. When I got back I got swallowed up. You really think I give a fuck about some goddam job stocking shelves after what I'd seen? What the fuck is wrong with you people? You act like you're doing everyone a fucking favor. "Give a veteran a job" bullshit. Just crap to make you feel good about using us. That's what your problem is. All you people that got it made think you're Jesus and can do no wrong. Well, you're doin' wrong. You're doing plenty wrong. I know lots about doing wrong.

Psychiatrist 2: Like what? What do you see that's wrong?

Killer: Don't ask me something you can ask yourself.

Psychiatrist 1: What could we have done to help you?

Killer: You only pretend to care when it's too late. Fuck off.

Psychiatrist 2: It was the fourth of July. There was a backyard BBQ. You felt left out, banned from the neighborhood and from her life. You wanted back in but couldn't see how. At that point, killing her seemed your only option. In order to retain hope of eventual acceptance you had to silence her regarding your previous behavior. Is that correct?

Killer: Nope. If I'd had hope I wouldn't have killed her.

Psychiatrist 1: Could please then in your own words tell us why shot Mrs. Wright?

Killer: I was bored.

MAN KILLS WOMAN FROM BOREDOM!



Monday, June 27, 2016

My Bottle Of Whine


With winking smile, this clever one
Who left behind the shining sun!
But in a moment none too soon
He finds he's running from the moon!

I hate those morons who take what little money they get and spend it right away on a bottle of booze, so obviously running away in futility. But no matter how much I've tried to chastise them over the years my words always rang hollow. That's because I do the same thing only I know how to lie about it better - which makes me even dumber than they are.

It's been a game ever since losing Emily, seeing how close I can get to a visibly drunken state without going over the line. Fuck reality. Who needs it. Drink, don't drink - my world stays the same. "Pay your goddam rent." "Find your own goddam sex." "Tell me how you're hurting so I can rape you easier." It will be that way until the end. Here in the street I see you from below, exposed and outted clear as day. But no one hears a voice on the street.

So no one can see my bullshit either. I too play the game of appearances. You win if no one finds out you're freaking drunk. Haha! Fooled you! I would never deal with you fuckers straight up! Then you go home, fearing the blank bed where the drug wears off and the encircling wolves who can no longer be kept at bay. Last thing I see before nodding off is snarling teeth ready to devour my soul. Sweet dreams!

"I'm sorry you feel that way!"

After the nightly hells I crawl to the morning sun. I must live as a thief, any moment for myself I steal. Before I can drink I'm dragged off to work. Along the day I few sips from my hidden stash. Feeling the thorns of the world won't make them go away, I reason. If I make it through the day and pay my rent at the end of the month I call that victory.

But what have I won?

Indeed, the homeless errant, I am. I set up a false world where I can "win". I keep my denial and stay living indoors. Yeehaw! It's horrible to feel you're doing nothing right. I see other idiots playing this same game. I excused myself from blame because...well, that's what one does, isn't it? But in the end all I'm doing is subsidizing my slavery, misunderstanding all I see.

Jesus never praised the world. An honest man. I praise it when I win and rail against when I lose. A dishonest man. Nowhere in actual life am I winning - no man in denial ever can. In real life I can't win anyway. (My stubborn negativity on this point of self-sabotage is both legendary and infamous at this point.) But everyone knows that's where the only true winning can occur. If the dead Steve Jobs could speak he'd be the poster boy on losing while winning. One can find shortcuts in the world, never in life.


For reasons unacceptable to me I've been sober recently. That lets all the feelings of suicide and drowning darkness back in, along with the panic attacks and actual physical cramping that can come with it. (Thank God for hotel lobby bathrooms) And I've come to realize what a fool's game I'm playing. Before, I was tracking every red cent so I could pretend I was "getting ahead" or some such folly. Sober, it's impossible to have any interest in worldly matters. Everything is simply a chore.

My eyes are like empty dark shotgun casings: they once had a purpose but now are spent. I would love to be a millionaire on the street. I could sit slouched over with my back against some 7-11's slimy brick wall, eating a candy bar, buying a lottery ticket to express my hopelessness, no need to pretend to belong to anything. But at the end of the day I could return to a safe bed. Best of both worlds.

I am damaged goods. In the aftermath of the Emily affair I short-circuited. I have trouble remembering how to spell simple words, trouble typing without stuttering adding extra letters. Physically, I'm a wreck going downhill. Most of all, I have absolutely zero interest in anything I do or say in daily conversation. I brag to myself about the brilliance of my con game but who am I conning? If you're not getting anywhere you're not really doing anything.


Sobriety sucks. I don't care about cars or Japan or female gymnasts. It's all just a bunch of rot. I am as alone as any man in history. God bewares the successful clown. Don't know where this is going to take me. Dark corridors I now face in my dreams. My kingdom is in ashes - and I'm the arsonist. Through barely slitted eyes I broach the devastation of my treachery. Maybe I never admitted it. Maybe I thought I couldn't have anything because I thought I couldn't have love. Shit.

Everything in life always leads home.