Author Archives: zippypinhead1

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?

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Story All Of Your Own

The freedom of the self, isn’t that what we call it? That’s the freedom we’re granted and so we might as well make the most of it. Take of it as you please – the freedom to do whatever you want, to like and dislike, to have it this way and have it that way. To have and yet not to have at the same time, The freedom to yearn and to pine, to grumble and complain. You might as well make the most of it – that’s what you’ve been given and that’s all you are going to be given. That’s what’s on the menu today, folks… It’s the way you like it and the way you don’t like it, it’s having it this way and having it that way. The glorious freedom of the self. Isn’t that what we call it? That most splendid of all things, the fair fruit of our civilisation. It comes in a handy kit – assemble it yourself in the comfort of your own living room! Develop your own unique style. Develop your very own personality. Don’t be shy – help yourself to a great big slice of it! Stuff your face… Cram it in there. How much can you fit in? Open a bit wider there – you can do better than that! You’ve got a fine big mouth, after all. You could fit the whole damn pie in there if you wanted. You can fit anything you want in there. It’s the freedom to agree and the freedom to disagree. All of this is given to you – all this and nothing else. Certainly nothing else. But what else would you want anyway? What else would you want apart from the glory of the self? The Best of all Possible Selves. A story all of your own… A unique and highly prestigious product that is guaranteed to satisfy every time. Almost every time. Enjoy it while you can because it’s not going to end well. It never does, does it? It never does. The freedom to have it this way and to have it that way, the freedom to pick and to choose. That’s what it’s all about of course. That is what it’s all about. That’s what makes you the person you are. That most splendid of all things, the Glorious Fruit of our Spectacular Civilisation. Enjoy it if you can because who knows when it may turn sour. It could actually turn sour at any moment! Isn’t that what the freedom of the self is all about? Enjoy it if you can because – who knows – the day may come when it lets you down in a big way! Have fun. Isn’t that what we’re all trying to do? As per the manufacturer’s instructions. We’re all trying to make a go of it – that most splendid fruit of our glorious civilisation has got to be worth something. Three billion satisfied customers can’t be wrong! Because you’re worth it, isn’t that the ads say? You’re allowed to have as much of it as you please, and it is guaranteed non-toxic. Safe when used according to the manufacturer’s instructions. The freedom to crave and to yearn, to hope and to despair, to hop and to skip, to whimper and whine. The Unexcelled Freedom to be Your Own Unique Self. Safe when used according to recommended guidelines.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Machine God

Well, you’ve laid your egg and that’s that. You have laid your egg and that’s all there is to it. You step away – you have done what you came to do, you have done what you were supposed to do. You are an egg-laying machine, after all. You could never have done otherwise. When a machine does what it is designed to do, flawlessly and appropriately, then that is time for validation. That is the validation – the very act itself is the validation! The act is its own validation, nothing else is needed. This is the Mystical Secret, that the act is the validation. The word is its own validation, as is the deed, as is the thought – we need look no further. You have come and you have said your piece and now you can withdraw from the scene, your great dignity intact. Your dignity is always intact – you have laid your egg and that is that. You say what you were always going to say and no one can deny you that. Now you can take a step back. Now you can withdraw from the arena – you have merely done what you were always going to have done, that is all. You have done what you were designed to do – you are a machine for saying what you were always going to say, what we all wanted you to say, what you were universally expected and required to say. This is the Great Kingdom of Redundancy, the Most Sacred Kingdom of Redundancy and you yourself are the King. You are the Supreme Monarch and no one will ever deny that. How can anyone deny it? Your dominion is assured for all time; your dominion is eternally uncontested. No one else wants the job, anyway. Your primacy in the scheme of things was assured from the very beginning and so shall it ever be. So shall it ever ever be. Your every act is only ever as it should be, no more and no less than this. You withdraw with dignity – you’ve spoken your piece and that’s that. You have spoken and no one can deny you because that is your right. Your words are sanctified; your words are automatically glorified. Your noble, vaulted iridescent metal head is bent forward in the act of contemplation and a population of a million galaxies awaits the results of your deliberations. You are the Machine God and you unfailingly do what you are designed to do. You always have done.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zephyr

These are sacred times and you’re so glad part of them. Sacred, sacred times. You’re moving slowly, appreciatively. You’re not rushing anything. You’re moving so very, very slowly and yet your senses are incredibly alert. Nothing escapes you. The world is lush, vibrant, enigmatic and yet full of unspoken menace. You don’t know where you are or how you got there but somehow that doesn’t seem to matter. Your story is starting all over again – you thought it was over but it wasn’t. Now a new story is starting; you don’t understand what’s happening in this story but that’s okay. So what if it doesn’t make any sense? It’s rich, vibrant and evocative of mysterious things. Deeply evocative of mysterious things. Strange stirrings are occurring in the rich luxuriant undergrowth of your subconscious mind. So rich, so luxuriant! I thought that my story was over but it isn’t. These are sacred times, I told myself – move slowly and don’t disturb anything. Tread carefully – danger could be anywhere, waiting for its chance to explode into your face like a Jack-in-the-box. That’s how it always is with danger. The air is full of unidentified smells. Little Zephyr breezes blowing this way and that, as if unsure of which way to go. A new story is beginning but it isn’t yours – you thought it was but it isn’t. It’s a story that belongs to no one, no one at all.  Tentative beginnings, unsure of which way to go. So very tentative! You’re in some kind of lush uncharted land and rich luxuriant vegetation is springing up all around you. ‘Whose story is it?’ you ask. You realise that it isn’t anyone’s. Not this time. Sacred, sacred times but you’re not part of them. Danger all around  – but for who? The noises of the birds, the rustlings of the insects. The birds singing in the trees, the insects hurrying about their business. The meadows and the fields. The rivers flowing where they will, swans and ducks sailing upon them. Mist rising in the early morning. It’s important to tread carefully, you don’t want to disturb anything. It’s important to go slowly. ‘Whose story is it?’ you ask. ‘Whose story is it?’ Not yours, anyway. Not yours and not anyone’s…