You made lots and lots of friends in your time and all was well, all was good. They are gone now however and so you’re sitting there all alone. ‘What does it feel like to be so very alone?’ you ask yourself. You have to ask yourself because there’s no one else there to ask you. All your so-called friends have gone now and as a result there’s only you sitting there, contemplating the frightening emptiness of your life. I know what that’s like, you see. I know it only too well. I can relate to your plight better than you may imagine. I’ve been there too, you see.
What we’re looking at here is the degradation of reality itself, of course, and that’s something we all have to own up to. It is the decay of reality. Nothing less than this, nothing less than this. Everything’s sliding down that Old Slippery Slope – the worst slippery slope of them all. That old, old road that none of us like to talk about. They’re gone now and that’s sad. You can still recollect the gay laughter of your friends and that always brings tears to your eyes. All gone now. Gone forever. Faded memories at best. Everything becomes the hideous abomination of what it ought to be, of what it once used to be.
‘How could anything that used to be so great now be so very dreadful, so very dire?’ you ask yourself. ‘How could it turn like that?’ I can relate to you when you ask that bitter question. I know what you mean. I can relate to that question so well you wouldn’t believe it. It’s kind of spooky – it’s almost as if I am you!
Out of the twelve people who make up the so-called ‘Ideas Department’ where I work my ideas are consistently the worst. Everyone else at least has one good idea from time to time, fairly regularly, but not me. I never have a good idea. My ideas are uniformly terrible, uniformly disastrous. No one will even listen to me anymore. They stopped listening to me a long time ago. You’re talking ancient history here. You’re harking back to the Golden Age. The Golden Age of Ideas, so to speak. I’m producing nothing but rubbish these days, you see. Very bad stuff. I’m producing nothing but rubbish now but back in the Golden Age even the least of my ideas would be enough to revolutionise society. If I were to even fart someone somewhere would be making a quick profit on it. You can be sure of that. They’d make a million on it at least – you see if they wouldn’t.
‘Remove all negative energy and awaken your higher mind,’ is what they say, isn’t it? It is a slogan we hear rather a lot these days. We hear it every day in fact – we’ve all been exposed to that one. ‘Remove all the negative energy’, they tell us, ‘take it away. Get rid of it. Remove it because no one wants it…’ We want the energy to be positive all the way, we want the vibes to be buoyant and uplifting and richly redolent with wonderfully ineffable majesty, and who can blame us for that? We’ve all had so much of the other, we’ve all had too much of the other. We’d like a well-deserved break from it. We are more than familiar with the filthy machinations of the lower mind, you see. It’s all we ever know about and so we’re definitely in the market for some kind of higher vibration at this stage! Bring on the higher vibration, we say. Some kind of relief from the never-ending toxic bullshit.
In time everything becomes the opposite of what it should be. The people we once looked up to become sinister, sleazy and untrustworthy. The guardians we put in place to oversee public morality turn out to be monsters of depravity. It’s an old, old story of course. This was ever the way, this was ever the way. ‘How could what was once so lofty, so noble, be brought so disgracefully low?’ we ask ourselves sadly. That’s the question I ask myself, at any rate. It’s a question I can’t ever get away from. It’s the question I ask myself every time I look in the mirror. I have a lot of judgement about that one, you see…
