Demon Rictus

I’m trying to stay focused on ‘the real’. ‘Stay focused on the real’!’ I tell myself, in tones of growing alarm. It’s not easy staying focused on the real though, it’s not easy at all. It’s not easy because I don’t know what ‘the real’ is! I’ve never met ‘the real’, I couldn’t even begin to tell you what it looks like. How to know it, how to know it, I fret. If only I had a few hints as to what I was looking for. If only, if only…


I’m full of great and thrilling excitement as I chase after my own mental projections – ‘it’s going to be so great, it’s going to be so great, it’s going to be so great…’ I tell myself as I chase. That’s what I always tell myself. Chasing my projections, so full of excitement. I can’t wait! I’m already making plans as to what I’m going to do once I catch up with them. This kind of stuff never gets old.


The wisdom of the wise and the foolishness of fools, isn’t that it? We are all looking for an answer – I know that much! That much and no more, you might say. That much and no more… Happy times for all, but only in our imaginations, right? What a party we will have; what a party we will have. It sure is a good thing we all have such good imaginations!


It’s late at night and I’m watching endless car ads on the Sony movie channel. Slick, successful egos pose inside sleekly expensive machines. Butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. They have a repellent air about them as you might imagine. They have a repellent air about them as befits their nature. We are required to be like them of course – we are always required to be like them. That’s called ‘social engineering’ I do believe. Such is our unhappy fate in this misconceived world of ours.


‘I’m playing the game and I’m trapped in the game,’ I tell myself. ‘I’m playing the game and I’m trapped in the game’. My voice has become maniacal, inhuman in some way. Quite possibly I have turned into a fully-fledged demon, I realise. It’s not as if that hadn’t been on the cards for some time now, after all. My face is twisted into a maniacal sneer – I can feel the deep furrows on my forehead, I can feel the awful tension in my jaw. My face is locked into that hideous sneer; my face is locked into an inhuman rictus. It’s the Demon Rictus, I realise in horror. The mark of demonic possession is upon me and I can’t smooth it away, as much as I may try. My forehead is ridged, my eyeball sunk deep into my head, and my lips have all but disappeared as I bare my teeth involuntarily in that terrible demonic sneer.


‘I can’t go out into the world like this,’ I say to myself. They’ll call the police on me for sure. They’ll call the police on me as soon as they see me. I am very obviously possessed. ‘Possession is nine tenths of the law, after all’, I inform myself solemnly. The police have a mandate to deal harshly with demonic possession, whenever they might come across it. The fabric of decent society has long since fallen into grievous disrepair and the only thing left to hold it together is fear. Fear of the police, fear of being subjected to their brutal interrogation techniques, fear of the counter-measures they will put into place if their instruments indicate that demonic possession has taken place.


Slick successful egos are posing and posturing in expensive top-of-the-range cars. They are showing how it is possible to have a successful, fulfilling and gratifying life if you submit to becoming unspeakably vile egos just like them. You can smell their repellent smugness, their complete lack of interest in anything other than the ongoing charade of their own second-hand reality. You can smell their hideous narcissism without even having to get close to them; you can smell it clear across the TV screen. It’s the dirtiest, filthiest smell in the whole wide world, you realise. You’re nauseated to the core and yet something in you itches to be just like them.


I look at myself in the mirror and I’m appalled at what I see. I no longer have the face of human being at all – I have the face of the snarling jackal. Two large triangular ears stick up high above my head and a steady stream of saliva trickles incessantly from my jaws. I can’t close my mouth because of the profusity of teeth that I now have – I have a mouthful of yellow rotting fangs and bad breath to boot. Breath so appallingly bad that I could very easily choke myself on it if I wasn’t careful. ‘However did it come to this?’ I find myself wondering. ‘However did it come to this?’







The Carnival Of Nonsense

Do you know that thing where you hate and fear anyone who isn’t just like you? People who aren’t like you make you so very angry; they make you so terribly, terribly angry. Your rage is burning you up on the inside. You want to hurt them so bad – you will hurt so bad if you get a chance! Unbelievable rage takes you over and you’re liable to do terrible things. You hate people who are different from you but you hate yourself too, you loathe and despise yourself because you know what you’re like. You know only too well what you’re like and so you despise yourself with a passion. You are in a fix therefore. You’re in a bit of a pickle. What to do, what to do? How to cope, how to cope? What are the recommended coping strategies, you wonder? What strategies can you put in place? You look fine on the outside of course but on the inside you’re a mess! The world is spinning around you – such a big, big world! Full of stars and comets and nebulae and spiral galaxies . The whole universe, in all its glory, is spinning around you – spinning, spinning, spinning. Spinning in solemn unending majesty. That’s pretty awesome, as I think you’ll agree. Pretty awesome or not however, you not really that interested. In fact you are not interested at all. You couldn’t give a damn – you are caught up in your own problems of course. You’ve got other fish to fry – smaller fish is true, but fish that are of great interest to you. They’re tiny fish – nothing more than tiddlers – but they matter a lot to you all the same. You’re frying them, frying them, frying them. You’re frying them and frying them – you’re frying them so much! The contents of your frying pan are black and smoking at this stage, needless to say, but still you keep at it. Darkness has totally consumed you at this stage but that’s just the way it goes. You no longer know what you are doing; your malice has run away with you. There is this video on YouTube entitled ‘This simple trick can get rid of fear immediately’ – can you believe that? The monstrous incalculable stupidity of humankind is inexorably increasing every single day and there can surely be no doubt about this! ‘What’s to be done?’ I hear you ask, ‘what’s to be done about the monstrous incalculable stupidity of humankind, which is increasing inexorably every day?’ You might well ask, of course. It’s only right and proper that you ask. You ask this question just as many others have done before you. I intend to upload a video shortly entitled ‘This simple trick will cure the monstrous stupidity of humankind immediately’. Simple tricks are what we all like, after all. It’s got to be a ‘simple trick’, hasn’t it? We don’t have a time for anything else. We don’t have the attention span for it – our lives are utterly consumed by nonsense. We are each and every one of us partaking in The Carnival of Nonsense. We’re joining in the fun because we don’t want to miss out. We’re joining in with gay abandon, adding our humble tuppence-worth to the general fray! ‘Here is my contribution, for what it’s worth,’ we cry out loudly. It’s carnival time and no one is going to stop us from having our fun.









The Facile Remedies Of This World

What is it like when your personal narrative becomes richly fascinating, exotic and full of glamour? You may ask me that. You certainly may! You may certainly ask me because – as it happens – I know the answer to this question full well! What’s it like, what’s it like…’ you ask. The answer is that it’s complete shit of course; what you’re looking at here is bad news and no mistake. You’re looking at a horror right there – stamp on it and put it out of its misery! Have nothing to do with it. Have no truck with it – make the sign of the crucifix to ward it off and then invoke the names of whatever saints you might happen to favour. Put a stop to it, I beg you! I wouldn’t consider myself to be the emotional type but the very thought of such a situation (the sort of situation that we are discussing here today at this very moment) causes an intensity of empathic pain that I cannot in any coherent way articulate. This is a most damnable business and I’ve seen where it leads to time and time again. We’ve all seen where this particular path leads, I would say. Seen but not recognised it perhaps, but seen nonetheless. Seen nonetheless. ‘What’s it like to live a life of grinding futility?’ you might perhaps ask me. Ask away by all means – ask away. Don’t be shy. Don’t tiptoe around the place. Speak out bravely and heartily. Eat of the food that is being provided for you for it will nourish your body; and not just your body either but your soul too. Your very soul, no less. Eat of the bread that has been placed upon the table; don’t hold back – take what you want, eat as much as you need. Eat of the bread that has been provided – eat well and eat heartily. This is metaphorical bread which we are speaking about of course; it’s no good asking me if it’s gluten-free or if it’s made out of ancient grains or anything like that. It’s no good asking me if it’s Mother’s Pride or Hovis or Brennan’s white sliced pan. It’s no good you asking me if you can perhaps toast it, or spread crunchy peanut butter on it, or make a tasty sandwich with it. You’re missing the point you see, you’re going off track in a big way. This is the bread of metaphor – that’s what we’ve got to remember. All of a sudden I find myself getting tired with this talk however; I feel I’m getting nowhere. A great weariness descended upon me; I no longer care about what I am saying nor why. ‘How stale and unprofitable is my existence in this world’ I feel like saying. That’s a quote from someone but I don’t know who. Whoever it was they knew how I’m feeling now that’s for sure, they knew only too well. ‘What’s your problem buddy?’ you ask, all bright and breezy. ‘Maybe you’re not getting out enough? Maybe you should make some friends?’ I somehow feel it goes a little deeper than that however – the facile remedies of the world aren’t going to work for me. I’d ask you to kindly keep them to yourself – you may be able to revive your tired old personal narrative in that way but don’t ask me to try it. Cheap tricks won’t work for me anymore. The gimmicks no longer cut the mustard. No sir they don’t. You’ll be advising me to find a hobby next no doubt. You needn’t bother though – I’ve already got one. It’s called ‘maintaining the damnable lousy ego construct’. It’s called ‘maintaining the damnable ego-construct even though you’re heartily sick of doing so’….








Conformity Makes You Intelligent

Some people say that the truth is the only thing that counts, that truth is All, but not I. Not I my friends: oh no, I say that conformity to the system is what counts. I say that conformity to the system is the greatest virtue of all. My heart swells within me as I think about it and my soul is full with poetry. Strange, evocative poetry the like of which you have never heard before in your life. Sinuous metaphors and lively allusions pour from my pen as I write peons of praise to that glory, the glory which accrues so insidiously to one when one has successfully conformed to the system. Then truly it can be said that one has ‘attained to the glory’.


Some people say, some people say… Who cares what people say? Who cares about the ceaseless inane yapping of the unenlightened? Conformity to the system is the Nectar of the gods no less and wise are they who strive resolutely and indefatigably towards this most wondrous of all goals. Conformity to the system makes you intelligent; conformity to the system makes you good. I’ve always wanted to be good of course – who hasn’t? We all want to be good, we all crave approval and benediction from the great authority figures that we ourselves have placed so reverently upon their most exalted pedestals. Crave, crave, crave. Craving all day long. Craving in the morning, craving in the night, craving when you have a shave and when you have moments of sombre thoughtfulness, contemplating the deep and dark mysteries of life…


Some people like to rebel of course, some people like to fight the system, but that’s only because they believe in their heart of hearts that they aren’t ever going to obtain the benediction of the Great Authority that rules us so surely and so they rebel instead, loudly proclaiming that they don’t want the approval of the system, and that they could not care less about it. That’s pretty basic psychology in my book – just about as basic as it gets. It’s a question of sour grapes, that’s all. There’s nothing new under the sun and the weaknesses and satisfactions of men are the same now as they ever were. A new age has dawned, with all that this means, but beneath the technological glamour it’s the same old dingdong, and if that doesn’t depress you then nothing will!


I know these special particular words that I call ‘power words’ and these are words that I mustn’t ever tell anyone or else they will immediately lose their power. Even worse, that power might be turned against me and the consequences of this would be utterly catastrophic. For me anyway, the consequences might of course be entirely advantageous for someone else, but that’s of no interest to me… Words of power, words of power – always to be used with the greatest of caution. When I’m stressed out or worried I mutter words of power under my breath, in the hope that they will help me, in the hope that they will protect me. I know people would laugh at me for that – for relying so much on my so-called ‘power words’. ‘Take a look at yourself,’ they would probably say, ‘how on earth do you imagine that your ‘power words’ have helped you? Just who do you think you are kidding with that bullshit?’


Things could be a lot worse otherwise however. That’s what they probably don’t understand. Who knows how much worse things could be otherwise? There’s no telling really is there? I was born to achieve certain things in life – that much I know. Of that much, I am certain. I didn’t achieve them however. I wasn’t able to achieve them, or maybe I didn’t try hard enough – I don’t know. Probably the latter, I expect, knowing me. Probably the latter… Maybe there is someone who will ask you after you die, ‘Did you achieve those things that you were supposed to achieve?’ And then you’ll say ‘No, not really – not exactly…’ (which means ‘no’ of course) and then they will say ‘Well what the fuck were you playing at?’ It’s worth thinking about, isn’t it?


Days of horror, days of rage. Days when you know what you’re talking about, and days when you don’t. Days when you don’t at all. Days when you are raving off your head like a total fucking gobshyte. You meet people in the street, you meet people in the supermarket and then you try to tell them all about this stuff. You want to explain it to them, make them understand. They don’t want to hear your bullshit though – they turn away haughtily, their noses in the air, not wanting to have anything to do with you. They don’t know that you are Maitreya – the future Buddha.









A Scattering Of Blank Faces

The future is coming and you’re starting to suspect that it may not be on your side. The future is coming but that does not necessarily mean that it’s going to be friendly, you realise. Do you know that thing where you are trying so hard to maintain the image that you are enlightened but then you realise with sudden terror that you’re fighting a losing battle to maintain that particular image and then the whole thing bursts wide open and it’s as if someone has just chucked a steel bucket full of shit into your face and as it hits it is rank and appalling. You come down to earth with a bump. It’s a disappointment of cosmic proportions. I see knowing looks coming from the audience – a few blank faces too but you’ll always get that. You’re always going to get that – that’s one thing that I’ve learned in the course of my life. The fact that when you try to explain something you’re always going to get a fair scattering of blank faces in the audience. Moments in your life, huh? That’s something we all know isn’t it? When you suddenly get this moment in your life and something is happening (or you think it’s happening) and you’re saying to yourself this is an actual moment in my life. You wish you could nail it down of course – you always wish you could nail it down. Put it in the Hall of Fame amongst all the others. You’re trying to explain it but you’re getting blank faces wherever you go. Your ignominy precedes you. It is like a little herald dude with a golden trumpet that he blows to announce you to those assembled. The future isn’t necessarily going to be friendly you know. I know all the positive thinkers always say that it will be but that’s because they’ve gone mad with fear and they’re raving, raving with the pure unbridled terror of it. They don’t like the thought that the future may not necessarily be friendly. None of us like that, naturally enough – that’s why we create a world that is made of our concepts. This world that we make of our concepts – we know it so well don’t we? ‘Would you like to talk about it?’ you ask me. This world that is made of your concepts. What a world, what a funny old world, right? That’s something we can all agree on, anyhow. That’s how evil came into the world you see – in through the back door. That’s a question you’ve probably been wondering about, I’d say – how did evil come into the world? Did God make it? Or was it a mistake? These are the questions that come so naturally to the mind of the philosophical enquirer. These questions are positively queuing up to gain entrance to your mind. The future is on its way but we’ll try our best to be optimistic about it. We’ll try not to let the side down. It’s awfully shameful when you do that, you know. I ought to know – I’ve done it often enough. I ought to be familiar enough with that particular scenario, you’re saying to me. Letting the jolly old side down, that is. I say old chap that’s hardly cricket now is it? It’s hardly cricket but it is nevertheless what we’ve come to expect of you. We all act as if we’re positive about our future possibilities of course but behind that burgeoning positivity there’s a negative rebound that will knock the teeth right out of your head. Clean out of your head. Where there’s a positive there’s always a negative after all – it’s good but it’s bad, it’s nice but it’s nevertheless like a bucket of shit that someone has kindly emptied over your head. Real honest-to-goodness shit. We are all at ease and full of confidence but that’s only the image. ‘Tell me about the experiences of your life,’ you say, ‘what were they like?’ You’re not really interested though, I can tell that straightaway. You’re yawning on the inside. You are fed up with your job. ‘The future’s coming but it’s not necessarily going to be friendly’, you feel like saying. You’re not necessarily going to like it. There’s this TED talk that keeps coming up on my YouTube suggestions and it contains the message that we can get what we want in life. Sure we can. I say to myself. Sure we can. Will the future shake you by the hand or will it kick you up the arse? We all live in a fantasy world of course – that much surely we can agree on. That much if nothing else. The world was once young, you know. Young and fresh and full of potential, full of promise. Not like it is now. The future’s rushing towards you faster and faster and you’re wondering what you can do about it. Did you make good life choices or not? Any minute now you’re going to find out. You’re bracing yourself, you’re trying not to let the side down…






That’s What We Egos Are Like

‘I’m in the world,’ I thought proudly. ‘I’m sailing out into the big wide world just like a sailing boat sailing out into the ocean.’ I’m an ego, you see. That’s why I was thinking like that. That’s how we egos think. I couldn’t get over the fact that I was in the world. ‘Wow, this is so great,’ I thought to myself, walking all around and looking at all the things. ‘This is just so cool’, I said to myself, ‘I just can’t wait to explore the world and find out about all the great things that are in it.’ You can see how innocent and naïve I was back then. I was a bright and sparky ego, as shiny and new as a freshly minted coin. Those were the days, I often say to myself. Those were the days when I was a bright and sparky ego, all shiny and new. Then I start feeling sad of course; I get to feeling sad because I’m not like that anymore. I never will be again, not ever. That’s how the irreversible arrow of time works when you’re an ego, you see – there’s only one road to go down and there’s only one way that you can go down that road. It’s a one-way street in other words and not only that but it’s a dead-end. Never was there a deader end, never was there. It’s what you might call ‘the cud de sac to end all cull de sacs’. I’m all jaded now, I’m a jaded old ego and nothing is any fun for me anymore. Jaded and cynical, that’s me. Covered all over with rust – there’s no shiny surfaces left, just all drab and dull surfaces. I’m just another drab and dull ego puttering about half-heartedly in a drab and dull world. ‘Don’t be so depressing,’ you say, but I’m only speaking my truth. You shouldn’t blame me for that. Would you like me to  lie and tell you that everything is great? Because it’s not. It’s not at all great. Everything I see I’m like ‘No not that thing again – I’m so fed up with that damn thing.’ That’s how jaded I am. I’m super jaded. Everything I see bores me. The whole world has palled for me – it’s just a shit-show. If you know what I’m talking about then you’re a jaded ego too! Welcome to the club; welcome to this the least salubrious club in the whole wide world. We specialise in never having any fun. If you don’t know what I’m talking about then that means that you are sparking new ego, so I’ll let you off in that case. Off you go in that case. Off with you. And you wouldn’t even be reading this anyway because shiny new egos only like sparky, upbeat stuff. Bright shiny new egos only like what they call ‘positive’ stuff – they go on and on about positive stuff the whole time. They can’t get enough of it; it never palls for them. It’s very infuriating for the rest of us anyway – I can tell you that for nothing! The only thing I can tell you in that case (in the case of you being a bright and shiny new ego like a freshly minted silver coin) is ‘I know your future’. I know where you are headed good buddy, and you don’t want to know. Of course you don’t – it would spoil your buzz completely. You’ve got a good buzz going there for you and you don’t want anything to come along and ruin it for you, naturally enough. That’s not what you’re about – you not about having your bright and shiny buzz ruined. But all the same, let me just say this much to you – ‘I know your future buddy’. You don’t know it but I do and my sage advice to you is not to be in any mad hurry to get there! You are in a mad hurry however and that’s just the way of the world. Bright shiny new egos are always in a mad rush to get where they’re going because they think that where they are going is going to be so great! That’s ‘positive thinking’ for you! Dumb-as-shit shiny new egos always have this ‘positive thinking’ thing going on. They’d make you sick the way they keep prattling on about it. They love talking about ‘goals’ and ‘winning’ and the spiritual egos to talk about ‘manifesting’. The only thing they’re ever going to manifest is a crock full of shit, let me tell you…




Art: Sebastian Eriksson






Harry Walrus And The Trouser Boys

Wonderful, splendid music was issuing forth from my car speakers. After a moment I recognised it – it was Harry Walrus and The Trouser Boys with their latest hit single, ‘Have you seen my new trousers?’ It was a great song and no mistake. ‘What a strange and evocative world this is,’ I said to myself, caught up in the emotion of the moment, ‘How poignant I find it, and how richly humorous at the same time.’ I wanted more than anything else at that moment to pursue my destiny in this world and taste to the full the possibilities that were inherent in this particular conditioned reality, but then just as soon as I had this thought everything changed. The so-solid world that had only seconds before I had been standing in broke up into frenetic fractal trash. The multiverse was shifting gears once more, unable – it seemed – to settle down to any one determinate reality. Then – before I had a chance to go over what it is happened – I found myself in a new world that was every bit as solid as the last. I was standing in the car park of Iceland in Doughiska, just as I had been before, only this time my car was a silver Toyota Auris instead of the more luxurious Ford Mondeo that I had been driving before, and the music playing on the car radio was Stephen Megma and his Fabulous Heavy Metal Orchestra, playing their big hit of the summer, Toe-jam. I found myself tapping my feet in time to the music – it was a catchy tune and no mistake. I felt rather odd because on the one hand I never heard the song before nor the name Stephen Megma, whilst on the other hand it was as if I’d heard it many times. I even felt that I had some personal connection with Steve – I knew his face, I knew his voice, I was even familiar with his mannerisms of speech. He was my friend. I had memories of hanging out with him on many occasions and yet at the same time I didn’t. It was a profoundly unsettling experience – the experience of a memory which is new and has no place amongst any of one’s other memories. When you have spent as long as much time as I have jumping from one parallel world to another then you get pretty used to this sort of thing however – it’s no big deal really. That’s what I tell myself,anyway. It’s no big deal, you get used to that stuff. In time you do. And then there was another shift – I was in another car park – always a car park – raining as usual. That much was the same. The rain and the dark car park, the rain and the dark car park. I was trying to start my car but it wouldn’t start. The key kept turning in the ignition but nothing was happening. The roof of the car was leaking and my feet seemed to get straight through the floor and were touching the road beneath. I realised dimly that this is one of those pretend cars were you had to move your legs and make it go like that. There wasn’t even any pedal that you could pedal to make it go. I walked my feet as quickly as I could, reversing out of the parking space and edging slowly onto the main road. Bits of the car were falling off as I went and I was starting to get worried about joining the heavy traffic on the street. The car was tiny, like a kid’s toy car – the top of it was only about three feet off the ground. The panicky feeling inside me was rising and rising as I went along; I was having to work my legs frantically but even so I didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. Cars were roaring past me on both sides. Any minute now the bottom was going to drop straight out of this absurdly stupid car. I was under pressure and yet there was absolutely nothing I could do about the situation – my legs were going faster and faster trying to keep up with the rest of the traffic. The back doors fell off one after another and I felt that I was sitting all scrunched up in a damp shoebox. It was a dark night with no moon and no stars and cold rain was pelting down pitilessly – the cold, cold rain. Incongruously, a tune was running through my head – after a moment I recognised it as ‘Harry and the Wide Boys’ with their latest wildly popular hit ‘Have you seen my new motor?’






Taste Fully Of The Sorrows

Taste fully of the sorrows of this life and then, at last, at long last, at the bitter end, when all is lost beyond all hope, you will know these sorrows! Surely you will know them, surely you will. Beyond a doubt, beyond a doubt. Most certainly you will, most certainly you will. Taste most fully of them, drink the glass down to the very dregs, aye – the very dregs, grossly repugnant as they may be. Drink ye the glass of sorrow my children, drink deep and savour the taste for then you shall be wise. Thus reads the sacred Scriptures, as well you know, but who amongst us wants to be wise? That’s the big question at the end of the day – who amongst us wants to be wise?


It’s a bit of a poser that one. A hot potato, to be juggled from one hand to the other as fast as you can. It’s actually a rather embarrassing question if the truth be told. Which it never is, needless to say. We don’t like to hear it spoken aloud – it’s not something we wish to discuss, naturally enough. Wisdom is a heavy burden and we are unwilling to shoulder it. Folk like to talk, as is well known, but never will they talk sense – most certainly they won’t. You’ll be waiting a long time for that to happen…


‘We anal-yse your dreams as you sleep’ – did you ever hear that one? That’s the slogan proudly proclaimed by the mighty Dream Corporation who have taken over from now defunct League of Nations. The road to the future is a corporate one you see, you’ll have to pay to travel on it, you’ll have to pay the toll. No more governments, no more nation-states, no more organised religion, no more political parties – all has been subsumed within the mighty Dream Corps, the biggest corporation of them all. The last corporation on earth: the biggest and the best. The ultimate doomed extrapolation of a fatally flawed ideology.  The last vomiting forth of a deeply perverse experiment – an experiment that should never have got past the ethics committee, some say.


‘We’ll feed them to the Pest’ – did you ever hear that line before? I warrant you didn’t, I warrant you didn’t. This is from the future you see. Or was it the past? Scientists are doing advanced research on the human race  – the single greatest research project ever initiated – grand in conception, elegant in execution. Humanity, all eighty five billion of them, have become a single vast protoplasmic computer, its output is our dreams, its input our humdrum daily lives. Each dream we produce, no matter how inconsequential, is anal-ysed down to the very last detail by the latest generation AI dream investigators. Instead of the police and the army we have the Dream-Keepers and their task is to make sure that everything continues to go smoothly. Humanity’s dreams must not be interfered with, not by anything, not for anything. Cue the Dream-Keepers, who flitter at will from one dream to another, policing our sleep. They can appear in any form, just as dreams can. They can be monsters or angels. Their power is absolute.


We are like the geese that lay the golden eggs. We lay our golden eggs every night, one unique, each one precious. Only all is not well in the World of Dreams. Strange stories circulate, dark rumours abound. They say that new things have come into existence, things that have no names but which are real all the same. Maybe more real than those things that do have names. Uncanny sights have been seen – small wizened people who speak in riddles and drink tea from tiny teacups. New people have been seen, so it is said, new people who are free from all the corruption and deceit that has gone on before them. Other folk have been spotted too it seems – frightening folk, folk who have no reflection and do not appear in our dreams. We can’t dream about them but they are there all the same. They are an evil that threatens to overrun the New World before it has even been born. No one knows how it’s all going to pan out…









A Therapist’s Tale

Do you know that thing where you have this thought that flashes through your head very, very quickly and it’s frankly appalling, utterly horrific – downright perverted in fact, and it is one of your own thoughts. That’s what a guy asked me the other day, obviously hoping that I was in some way going to validate his experience. You get a lot of that working as a therapist of course – people looking for validation. I denied ever having such thing happen to me, just to make the guy feel bad. You’ve got to get your kicks somehow I guess, and that’s how I get mine. That’s one of the ways, anyway. I also do hard drugs, when I get the chance – I’m a sucker for Class A’s. The truth is of course that I have thoughts like that all the time! Hardly an hour goes by without me having that sort of thought flashing through my head – as a therapist however I’m not exactly I’m not going to admit that in a hurry. I know I’m admitting it here but very few people ever going to read this blog and it’s all fairly anonymous, I think. You’ve got to find some way to let out the truth, haven’t you? There’s always some little part of us that wants to be honest, some tiny little part. ‘Excuse me sir would you please validate my experience?’ No sonny Jim I won’t, you’re a freak! Just face up to the fact that you are and stop trying to pretend that you’re normal! That’s your homework for the week – to try to face up to the fact that you’re a freak! Have you got what it takes to do that? Have you got the balls? Reality’s a hard old business after all and you’d be doing yourself a big favour if you could only toughen up a bit. Face difficult facts. Accept them. Get on with it for God sake. Stop your endless fucking whingeing. That’s the message I like to give people anyway, and I like to think that it’s a helpful one. In the long run at least. Grow a pair my friends, did you ever think of that? I do a bit of CBT on the side as well, just to fill in time in the session. I tell people to change their thinking. Those thoughts you have are no good, I tell them. They are maladaptive. They’re deeply abnormal. They’re thinking errors and so what you have to do is write them all down in an exercise book and then write down beside them what you should have thought. That’s how the therapy works you see. Eventually we’ll get you to change that stupid maladaptive thinking of yours. You can learn to sing a different song, so to speak. You’ll stop being so fucking negative the whole time. I realise that this totally contradicts what I was saying earlier about accepting the fact that you’re a freak and just getting on with it but this contradiction is part and parcel of the therapeutic process. We know what we’re doing. Mixed messages are an essential part of the therapy process: first you tell your client to accept themselves and then you tell them to change themselves – that is standard procedure amongst us professional therapists. The old ‘therapeutic double-bind’ gets them every time so it does. It really does work too – there has been a lot of research into it. Research by proper experts in the field, not that phony-baloney social sciences-type research which is as everyone knows just a bunch of made-up crap. Those guys are pretending to be scientists but really they’re just a bunch of dip heads, pathetically trying to make out that they actually know what they’re talking about. You’ve got to laugh at those sad wankers, haven’t you? No – the research that I’m talking about isn’t like that at all…







The P.O.E.

I think that it’s very unfair the way egos are created by the ubiquitous old ‘ego-creating machinery’ only to be heartlessly destroyed a bit later on by the RP, or Reality Principle as I like to call it. Wouldn’t you agree with me? Heartlessly and unfailingly, I should say because there’s no getting away from it. There’s no getting away from this fate: from the moment the poor doomed ego is created by the old ego-creating machinery to the moment it is unceremoniously snuffed out when it reaches the end of the road, it is taunted and tormented and teased and humiliated by a merciless reality. It is insulted and abused every step of the way. Reality is never nice to the poor old ego, not ever, and I don’t think there are going to be any arguments on that score! Can you imagine anyone being dumb enough to argue this point? Folk are plenty dumb as we know and fools will argue about anything but I can tell you one thing for sure – no one is going to be stupid enough to try to say that reality is ever going to go soft on the poor old ego. We all know that’s never going to happen – there’s never any such thing as an ‘amnesty’ when it comes to the POE! It’s always open season when it comes to the POE and that’s a fact. I think I’m safe in saying that no one is going to quibble with me on this point. From the time the POE is unfairly created to the moment it squeaks its last it is subject to an unending series of insults, insults that cut to the very quick, and – as we all know very well – the POE isn’t very good when it comes to insults. It doesn’t get over them easily, if at all. Probably the POE keeps a record of every slight it ever received, all filed away carefully for future reference. All filed away so that it can brood over them at some future date. It’s not just that forgiveness doesn’t come easily to the ego, it doesn’t come at all and I think we all know that. No one can say that the POE doesn’t feel pain or that it is ‘insensitive’ – not at all, it has the most exquisite sensitivity to anything that might compromise its oh-so-fragile dignity, and that’s an eventuality that keeps on happening. We can rely on that scenario happening. The truth itself is all that’s needed to mortally insult the unfortunate hypersensitive creature of which we speak. So that’s what I’m saying here really isn’t it, in this untidy morass of words – that it’s such a cruel, cruel thing to bring such a creature into existence when all that awaits it is pain and humiliation and when all that takes it takes to hurt or humiliate it is a little bit of the truth. The truth keeps on cropping up after all – it crops up time and time again. The truth has a nasty habit of cropping up after all – nasty from the POV of the POE anyway! The ego’s doom has been decided right from the very beginning. The ego’s doom, the ego’s doom. That sounds rather good doesn’t it? There’s a bit of a ring to it. Not much of a ring, just a bit of a ring. Each ego that comes into existence has the very same fate, the very same doom as every other one. That’s rather interesting isn’t it? A curious fact, a curious fact. What does it mean if every ego always comes into the world with exactly the same doom lying in wait for it? And we have to remember – don’t we – that the ego’s doom is all that it has. All the ego has in its so-called ‘life’ is its doom, or the attempted avoidance thereof (which is of course the same thing). The ego’s ongoing denial of its doom is its doom, needless to say. And what a terrible doom that is! The worst possible, in fact. A doom that is not to be envied, shall we say? An unenviable doom. What we’re talking about is not a pleasant situation – that’s the point I’m trying to make here. That is exactly the point. Every ego that comes into the world has the very same doom and if its doom is all there is to it (or if ‘struggling against its doom’ is all there is to it) then all egos are the same ego. It’s the same thing in every case, exactly the same. The POE likes to think that it is unique of course but that’s just another lie it tells itself. Like the lie that it’s actually got a hope in hell! The ego lives its so-called ‘life’ purely on the basis of its pitiful lies, and its fate is to see these lies eroded bit by bit, grain by grain, until there’s nothing left of them for it to cling onto. Don’t you think that’s cruel?