Implied Intimacy

‘Here’s a nice world, why don’t you live in it?’  Hysterical laughter. ‘There you go, there’s a nice world for you…’ Insane laughter booming out from on high. ‘Why don’t you go right ahead and adapt yourself to it? Why don’t you make yourself right at home?’ Can’t you just hear the vile sniggers in the background? The vile unwholesome sniggers of the Demiurge.


Have you ever noticed how very adapted people are to this world? How very comfortable they are with it? Don’t you think that this is the most peculiar thing ever? I mean, how do they do it?  This gets me every time. Some people (most people in fact) are just so damn comfortable with the simulation. They’re just so damn au fait with it. It’s enough to make you sick, isn’t it?


Maybe you don’t get that from people. I do, though. I get it big time. That super casual ‘oh yes I’m so damn adapted’ vibe you get from them. That ‘oh I’m so bloody intimate with the simulated world’ vibe. It’s arrogance really, that’s what it is. Vile despicable arrogance. And yet this nauseating arrogance – which people see as ‘confidence’ – seems to be the ultimate currency in life. If you’ve got it then all the doors swing open for you. They swing open for you on lubricated hinges.


Doesn’t that totally sicken you? It really ought to you know. You surely can’t be OK about that? And yet I know people are OK about it. More than just OK, people love it. They go for it big time. That’s what really sickens me I think – it sickens me that this is what is what you need in order to be accepted by the world. This vile implied intimacy with the illusory construct, the thing no one is ever going to admit is illusory. Because we’re all far too cowardly and untruthful to admit that. Not in a million years will we admit it – we’re never going to admit that it’s bogus.


Feel the fear and do it anyway – isn’t that what they say? Only they don’t, do they? People, I mean. Those people with all their sickening confidence. What have they got to be confident about – that’s what I want to know. Exactly what is it that they’re so confident, so bloody confident about? It’s a form of badness, if you ask me. A form of pernicious malignancy that blights all of our lives…


The Demiurge always gets the last laugh, doesn’t he? He gets all the laughs, come to think of it. That is quite possibly the purpose of the illusory construct world – to create laughs for the Demiurge. He gets off on human stupidity. When I say ‘stupidity’ I don’t mean people who aren’t super-intelligent and who can’t join MENSA on this account, I don’t mean that at all. I mean all those people who by their manner implicitly claim to know all about life. All those cocky bastards – you know the ones I mean.



Art: Taken from






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