I Was Named Faeces By My Parents

I was named Faeces by my parents. Evidently they gave no thought to the mockery and contempt that was to come my way as a result of this baleful choice of theirs. That’s how I started off in life – as a target for jibes and unrelenting ridicule. Everyone has to start out some way and that’s how it was for me. If I only got beaten up three times a day I counted myself lucky. All of that made for a very unhappy childhood it is true, but it was good training for what was to come. Perhaps my parents knew that it would, I don’t know. I suspect that they simply wished to give me a hard time – that would have been more in keeping with what I knew of them, in all honesty. So anyway, this toughening up process proved to be very useful to me in the years to come. Earth – proud, proud Earth – had fallen in the War to end all Wars, the so-called War of the Divided Self. Each and every human being became part of that war – whether they wanted to or not. The concept of a ‘non-combatant’ simply didn’t apply! There was no way humanity could ever have won this conflict. That’s not what I want you to talk about however. What I wanted to talk about was my life before I became famous, before I became mankind’s greatest helper and friend. It’s easy to go on about one’s successes and great achievements, after all. Any fool can do that. And in any event, who cares? Who wants to spend their time reading about someone else’s achievements, someone else’s great successes? I surely don’t – for me, what is interesting is reading about failure and defeat and hopelessness and misery. That’s where the real meat lies. All success stories are ultimately hollow, after all, whilst failure has a beating heart. ‘At the Heart of Failure’ is the title of a book I never wrote, funnily enough. I never got around to it; I didn’t have the energy or the motivation to follow through on it. That’s my problem, you see – laziness. I’m alright once I get started but I never do get started so that’s no good. Proud, proud earth – why do we always think we are so great? The evidence is always pointing in the opposite direction, after all. We’re specialists in fantasy – we are burrowing ever deeper into our custom-made fantasy worlds and we think we are heroes on this account. That’s the inverted mind for you. We’re burrowers and we’re burrowing for all we’re worth. Pure frantic we are and somehow we are expecting to be given some kind of prize or personal commendation at the end of it all. They’ll be some majestic angelic figure standing there waiting to pin a medal to our chest. ‘You did well’, he will tell us. ‘Against all the odds you burrowed deep into unreality. You have spent a lifetime burrowing and now it is time for you to receive your just reward.’ Isn’t that what religious folk believe? They believe that if they spend their lives burrowing deeper and deeper into egocentric fantasy then it’ll all come right because of this. Somehow, we’ll come out smelling of roses. What’s the name of the Dragon who lives at the bottom of the deepest pit of the Abyss? Is he the Redeemer or the Defiler? There’s a question to conjure with! The Law of Deterioration is nothing other than a disguised version of the Law of Expansion, if the truth were to be known. Which it never is! If the truth were to be known, if the truth were to be known. Success never brings anything but misery, if the truth were to be known. It brings about misery that we cannot acknowledge as such: ‘What – I can’t be miserable!’ I say disbelievingly, ‘not with my level of achievement…’ Failure is the only sure and certain route to knowledge, as a man once said. It is our kindest and surest teacher. We would resist the Law of Deterioration if we could; we would fight against it. We would reinstate the Glories of the Past, but we cannot. We can never reinstate the Glories of the Past – no one can ever do that. If we tried to do this we would only perpetrate undreamt of horrors…

 

 

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