I Was Lying Like a Bastard


I was lying like a bastard. Lying to cover my tracks. And then lying again to cover up the covering up of my tracks. I was lying so fast you wouldn’t believe it, the lies tumbling out all over the place in dizzying profusion. It was a constant flurry of desperate activity, a constant battle to keep the lid on it all. To keep the lid on all of my lies, which had at this stage gotten so badly out of control as to be utterly monstrous.


When you lie enough the lies become completely meaningless. They cease even to be lies and that is the situation I find myself in today. They become something else, something quite vile. I am engaged in a monstrous project that I am quite unable to stop and this project is not just monstrous but completely meaningless into the bargain. It is an excruciatingly pointless exercise in surreal repulsive nonsensicality, and yet I am far too far gone in it to ever be able to call it to a halt. I think Shakespeare said something like that once. Or maybe he didn’t.


What are these lies that I am coming out with, you might like to know. Could I not be more specific? Or perhaps you just want to know what the Original Lie was. That would be the smart question, of course. Who cares about the cover-ups? Why waste your time on them? That would be the smart question for sure but the problem is I’m afraid that I’ve long since forgotten what the original lie was! I just couldn’t tell you. It has long since been buried beneath all the outrageously nonsensical lies that I have since spewed up to cover it over, to hide it from sight. So my efforts have been successful, you might say. Stupendously successful. For me, now, it is far too late to be worrying about what the original lie might have been. It’s kind of beside the point at this stage…


The point is that I am caught up in a veritable frenzy of lying and there’s no stopping me. It’s not just words that we’re talking about here. It’s not even what I’m thinking that is the lies. It’s everything. It’s the totality of everything that I know or ever can know. It’s all-encompassing. It’s all-consuming. It’s like the giant amoeba. The one in the legend. The amoeba that ate the whole world. The amoeba that ate everything. Don’t tell me you didn’t hear that old story. Or did I just make it up? I honestly don’t know truth from fiction any more…


I am creating a whole new world here – a whole new universe. I have given birth to a whole new universe in a terrifying spasm of uncontrollable dishonesty. It’s an act of Cosmogenesis, no less. By my infinite reluctance to come clean and just be honest about things I am put myself in the position of being an actual bona fide world creator. Even if the world in question is utterly absurd, utterly nonsensical, utterly objectionable in its appalling banality.


I have had to take it down to the most basic of levels. I have built this universe from the bottom-up. From the elementary subatomic particles. From quarks. From mesons and muons and pions. I have mass-produced protons – I have flooded the market with them. I have created the immensity of the interstellar gas clouds. I have created neutronium stars, I have conjured nebulae made of antimatter. I have invented the universal laws, the universal constants. I have created space and time. I have created it all. And all for the sake of covering up the Original Lie, which I myself have long since forgotten about…


You know my name by now, I’m sure. My modesty has worn rather thin at this stage! You know me – I am Yaldaboath, I am Saboath, I am Samael.  I am the Proarchos. I am the Lion-Faced Serpent. I am the Insane Maker of the Universe. I am the Great Psychopath…




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