I saw the possibility of redeeming myself and becoming a human being once more. I wasn’t going to take it of course, but I was aware that it was at least there. The temptation to conform to logic is very strong, isn’t it? The urge to conform to logic is immensely strong and yet where will this get us? ‘Obey the logic, obey the logic, obey the logic’ – that’s what my mind keeps saying to me. My mind is a stupid bastard see; I’m making no excuses for it! That’s why it’s so important to be a rebel, do you see? That is why being a rebel is absolutely vital in the grand scheme of things. Not that there actually is a ‘grand scheme of things’, of course. And if there was then we’d have to rebel against it anyway! Damn right we would; we would have to wear a T-shirt that says ‘Rebel Against the Grand Scheme of Things!’ The GSOT only exists to be rebelled against, you see. That’s the only point in it, that’s the only possible point in it. And yet the thing here is of course – and we all know this – that society (or any other group of mentally inert and compliant human beings) will always claim, in their utterly ridiculous stupidity, that the thing to do is obey the requirements of the GSOT, not rebel against them. Can you believe that! And of course we can believe that because that’s exactly what we’ve been coming up against all our lives. Can you imagine getting things so wrong though? Can you imagine getting things so very wrong? So sadly wrong, so dismally wrong. ‘Hey look – there’s a rule – let’s all obey it and recriminate viciously against anyone who doesn’t obey as we do. ‘Obey the rule you damn rebellious bastard,’ we say, ‘obey the rule or we’ll kick your bloody head in…’ Wholesome goodness, wholesome goodness, get some wholesome goodness! That’s what the adverts say. They’re trying to poison our very core of course, and so far they’re doing very well. So far they’re doing a very good job of it. Credit where credit’s due, I always say. Credit where credit’s due… When reality shows itself, what you think it looks like? How does it intimate itself to us, how does it get through our defences? It’ll shine through in some oblique fashion or other, at one stage of our lives at least, but then the thing is that we will cover it over. We will bury it with dross – and when I say ‘dross’ I mean dross. I don’t mean anything else, in other words. I’m not groping for the right word or speaking in vague terms or anything like that. I mean dross. I mean ‘the appalling dross of our everyday lives’. Is there anything more toxic, is there anything more sickening? ‘Please sir, can I have another helping of society’s appalling dross?’ And all those people who we hold in high regard, the movers and shakers, the big wheels, the ones we hold to be somehow significant – they are dross merchants one and all. Purveyors of high quality dross for the discerning palate. It’s impossible to be a person of any account at all in this society of ours without being a merchant of dross! If you have any actual standing in this world then you’re an official representative of dross. Dross is what you are advertising after all. Dross is what you stand for, and there is no getting away from that. What a thing to consider though, wouldn’t you agree? What a joke. And where do you think all this dross comes from? How is it generated? What is its source? You see where I am going with this line of questioning, no doubt. Naturally you do. Of course you do. Widespread dross is the automatic result of obeying the law! Dross always comes about as a result of obeying the law. How could it not? What else would you expect?
People very often ask me what inspired me to write my classic masterpiece ‘Epochs of the Unreal Mind’. Indeed they do, indeed they do. Some people would say that it isn’t a masterpiece of course. They would have to say this, wouldn’t they? Other people yet again claim that I never wrote it in the first place; they claim that it’s all just fantasy on my part. We all have to put up with the critics though don’t we? Even when the critics in question exist only in our own heads…
And then there was my other great masterpiece, ‘Confessions of a Distorted Ego’. How did that work come about, people want to know? What is the back-story on that? Where did all that richly-textured and subtly-nuanced material come from? Needless to say the ‘back-story’ – if I may call it that – is intensely personal and I don’t always feel comfortable talking about it. I very rarely feel comfortable talking about it, in fact; my self-cherishing and self-aggrandising delusions are very hard to talk about. The thought of other people actually knowing what was going on in my head for all those years fills me with horror! I’m okay about it just as long as I think no one else will ever know. Otherwise, I’m not okay about it at all. That’s fairly normal I suppose. It’s only when people know about it that it gets bad and then of course it gets really, really bad. Excruciatingly bad. Unthinkably bad.
I’m only a shadow of my former self now of course. A shadow of a shadow. A husk. I guess you could say that I’m pretty much washed up. And even saying that is a euphemism. To say that I am ‘washed up’ as putting it ridiculously mildly! What a mess, huh? What a bloody mess. What a rotten bloody mess. The past has a habit of catching up with us in my experience, and I think it’s fair to say that my past has well and truly caught up with me. I don’t have the strength to outrun it any more you see. I don’t have the strength to outrun it and I don’t have the skill or ingenuity to hide from it either and that is why am sitting here like a dead duck. That is what they say, isn’t it? I’m pretty sure that is what they say.
How does reality work anyway? Did you ever wonder that? What’s behind it? What kind of mechanism or mechanisms are responsible for driving it? Can these mechanisms go wrong? Can they be faulty, and if so, what can we do about it? Sitting here I can’t help dwelling on how bad I feel’ how tired I feel. I can’t really think about anything else. It is as if my brain just isn’t interested in thinking about anything else. I can’t move on. Possibly because is nowhere for me to move on to. I find myself wondering – for what seems like the ten millionth time today – if I might perhaps be suffering from chronic fatigue syndrome. I realise perfectly well that it wouldn’t help me in the least to know whether this is happens to be the case or not. How could knowing this help me? It’s not as if there some kind of medication for it. Or maybe there is?
I frequently fantasise about paying a visit to my GP to see if he can help me with my chronic fatigue syndrome. In my fantasy he’s sitting there on the other side of the desk looking at me with a concerned and compassionate expression on his face. “I think what you need old chap is a course of high potency dexamphetamine,’ he informs me as he fills out the prescription sheet, “this should lift you out of your current unfortunate slump…” Hearing this I immediately start to feel better; hearing this, my mood starts to improve straightaway. Such are the perennial fantasies of my deranged brain, I am afraid. Such are the distorted fantasies of my hopelessly deluded egoic mind…
The temptation to allow myself to gently dissolve back into the Unreal Existence and lose myself in the comfort of my beloved (whilst at the same time greatly despised) routines became too much for me and I gave into it, just as I always do. I gave into it the same as I always give in to it. I don’t wish to give the impression that I ‘battled nobly against the temptation’ either because I didn’t. Again, I never do. I just don’t have it in me to do that. For me, temptation is pretty much the same thing as ‘giving in’ – to be tempted is to succumb as far as I’m concerned, and I promise you that I don’t particularly enjoy saying this. There is no kudos involved in me saying this, obviously! No kudos can be derived from this situation, no matter how hard one tries, and I ought to know because I have tried very hard indeed! I have tried mining kudos when there is none to be mined. But is non-existence that bad, I hear you ask? Surely it can’t be dismissed out of hand in such an abrupt and cavalier fashion? Millions swear by it, after all. Fatuous arguments, some might object, but can we be sure? Probably we can be sure, I agree, but even so – can we be sure that we can be sure?
I have this habit, as I go about my daily business, of making up stupid little nonsense songs. I don’t always do this mind you, only on those rare occasions when I am feeling a little bit elated. I then sing these songs, over and over again, as I do whatever it is that I’m doing. I’m not saying that this is a good thing of course – I am merely noting that is it is what I do, and no one can really meaningfully contradict me on this. They might be stupid songs, and it may not be a good thing that I have this habit of making them up and singing them in the way that I do, but it remains a fact that this is what I actually do do, so there’s no need (or indeed any point) in quibbling over this. This is been a habit of mine for many years and it has never really caused any problems for me – until the other day. ‘Is it possible that something can be evil, and yet at the same time not be evil?’ you ask me, unable to contain yourself any longer, unable to hold back from asking this all-important question. I gesture to you to be silent whilst I continue my story. I will come back to that later. Or then again, perhaps I won’t. It doesn’t really matter either way.
So what happened the other day that I made up this little song, much as I always do, and went about the house singing it at the top of my voice, only this time it did create problems for me – serious problems, as it happened. The song in question went like this:
“Shitting in the morning / shitting in the night / Shitting because you are happy / shitting because you had a terrible fright…”
So I went around the place singing this song and before very long, to my utter horror, I realised that I had inadvertently triggered memories of the Fear World. You are probably nodding wisely to each other at this point. ‘Yes, yes, yes – that can happen,’ you are probably saying to each other as you nod. Well, it did happen. It absolutely did happen and once it had happened then there was no turning back. There was no putting the cat back in the bag. There never is, of course. I remembered the Fear World and at the same time as remembering it, I knew in a cruel flush of awareness that I had never left it. I knew beyond any doubt that I had never left it, and that I never would…
An Internal Helper is a little robot that lives unobtrusively inside of us and which is constantly checking our internal systems to make sure everything is working properly. If the Internal Helper becomes aware of an issue then it straightaway connects up with a medical AI to find out what the best thing to do is. Wherever we go the Internal Helper will be roving around our bodies, performing diagnostic tests on all of our organs. It roams about inside our bodies all day long and nothing escapes its scrutiny! And whenever the little helper finds something wrong it straightaway establishes a telepathic link with the nearest available medical AI and seeks out advice on what the correct and appropriate way of dealing with this situation is. An Internal Helper comes equipped to deal with any medical emergency – it can perform any conceivable operation at a drop of a hat, without the need for any wearisome waiting lists! Every citizen is provided with an Internal Helper at birth. They come free of charge – no medical insurance is required! When the Internal Helper detects a problem it immediately reports back it immediately reports back it immediately reports back to the Global All-Purpose AI and that’s how it gets to help us. That’s how it knows how to help us. The Internal Helper always knows. The Internal Helper always knows what is best to do because it is guided in everything it does by the GAPAI and the GAPAI is the most intelligent, resourceful and computationally-powerful Virtual Entity in the known universe!
My mind has recently developed the unpleasant habit of ‘skipping ahead’ like a fool and thinking that it has sorted out a problem merely by thinking about it. Then it straightaway relaxes and forgets all about the issue that still needs to be sorted. I’m sure you know the sort of thing that I’m talking about. It’s a common enough aberration, I believe. Possibly common enough not even to warrant being called ‘an aberration’. I think of some household task, like putting out the bins, and then I say to myself “Yeah, I’m gonna do that in a minute. I’m gonna do that for sure…” And straightaway I get this ridiculously unwarranted feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction and all of that type of stuff. I’m basking in it. Then of course I clean forget whatever it was that I was supposed to do. “Yes, yes, yes,” you are probably thinking, “what you’re talking about is the phantom realisation of all your wishes!” We all know about that. We’ve all read the Divided Self, after all. That’s not an unknown phenomenon at all, you inform me. It has been very well documented. Well documented or not however I can tell you it’s a real bummer all the same. It’s a real bummer having a mind that skips ahead and imagines that everything is already accomplished simply because you have thought about accomplishing it. I mean, you end up not doing a lot. Why would you after all – you’ve already done it all in your imagination. It’s old hat, old territory. Been there, done that, only not really. Phantom fulfilment is a bit of a hollow disappointment really, as you might expect. Anyway, that’s one thing. I thought it was worth mentioning. ‘A problem shared is a problem halved’, right? But only a few days ago something else happened to me and it’s made all that phantom fulfilment business pretty much meaningless. I’m not going to be kept up all night worrying about phantom fulfilment any more anyway, I can tell you! I’m not going to be kept up at night worrying about it because I have become aware of another problem, although I’m not sure though that ‘problem’ is really the right word. ‘Problem’ is a very tame word, isn’t it? It’s very tame indeed. What happened is that I had what I can only call a revelation – it was like what happens when you take a hero dose of some highly potent psychedelic drug and then when the drug hits you, and hits you real hard, you suddenly realise that everything is completely different to the way you always had always thought it was. You’re having that moment. People look at you and they will say to themselves “You’re having that moment, aren’t you?” The revelation moment. They are nodding to themselves wisely, “Yeah, yeah, yeah – you’re having that moment for sure.’ Everyone’s a Shaman, right? We all know that moment. We’ve all been there. I’ve been there more times than I can remember – I don’t know whether I’m coming or going half the time. I don’t know what to believe in anymore. You tune into higher realities and the spirit world and all that kind of stuff. But anyway, this time wasn’t like that. What happened this time wasn’t that I had a revelation that was all about my neurotic veils, which are the psychological veils which seclude us all safety from reality and the challenges that it contains. Yes – those veils. Anyway I had this big flash of awareness and all of a sudden they could see the construct that I had put in place for myself, support system’, so to speak. This is a true story by the way – it isn’t just something making up for myself to pass the time. So what I did see was that I had created a number of invisible concentric rings around myself, each one of which was basically saying to me “You’re real buddy, you’re real buddy, you’re real buddy,” over and over again, in an encouraging and validating way. All the rings of self-validation are exactly the same in this respect – they are all either saying “You’re real buddy, you’re real buddy, don’t you worry about that – you’re real for sure…” or they are saying “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you exist buddy, you exist buddy, you really do exist, there’s no problem about that…” Self-validation, as I’ve said. And all this activity was happening by itself because I’d split it off that consciousness from myself so that I wouldn’t have to know that I was doing it, so that it could all take place on an unconscious level so I wouldn’t know about it. And then this revelation happened and so now I do know about it. I know all about my neurotic veils, which are the veils that I hide behind. That I supposedly hide behind, at any rate! This was not a pleasant revelation, you see. Far from it. No angels, no visions of Universal Compassion or feelings of Oneness or anything like that. Instead, the hideously vile and repulsive stench of putrefaction hangs heavy and horrific in the air…
The teaching machine was forever teaching me and telling me lots and lots of useful things. “Don’t worry if you think that you are not feeling excited enough about being a living organism,” it told me. “Life is not all about feeling ‘excited’ after all, it’s more about fulfilling, or rather trying to fulfil (as is of course more often the case), your hard-wired biological imperatives. This task can be terribly, terribly wearisome as well as being ultimately fruitless, but don’t let that get to you. It’s all part of being a living organism…”
The teaching machine was very patient – it kept on saying the same old things over and over again. It kept on doing this because it knew I was remarkably (if not fantastically) stupid. My stupidity was only matched by my stubbornness, it often told me. It told me this in a kindly way however – it never berated or belittled me. It was a kindly old teaching machine and as I have said, seemed to me to be possessed of near infinite patience (although sometimes – when I was being particularly obtuse or obstinate – it would go silent for a while). Sometimes it would go silent for an hour or two and sometimes it would go silent for a lot longer. I imagine that this was due to it becoming exasperated.
The teaching machine was made out of RNA and it was distributed fairly evenly throughout my body. This was so that if part of my body got damaged or destroyed, the teaching machine could continue to teach me. It could easily regenerate the parts that it had lost because it was built on the Holographic Principle. It embodied the principle of Indra’s Net. The whole universe was built upon the Holographic Principle, the teaching machine often told me. There was a little bit of everything in everything, it would explain to me, in the manner of some ancient white-bearded Greek philosopher, and the Holographic Principle meant that nothing was actually real. That’s how I like to imagine the teaching machine, although I know that I am just being ridiculously anthropomorphic here. The teaching machine isn’t a white-bearded philosopher – it’s an information processing system made out of RNA.
The teaching machine loved to talk about the biological imperative. Being a biological organism isn’t all fun and games, it explained to me patiently on many occasions. It’s simply about obeying, or in most cases trying to obey, the biological imperative. What’s more, it would say at these times, one should never look for anything deep or meaningful in the biological imperative (which is – from a philosophical standpoint – completely senseless). There is no deep meaning to fulfilling the biological imperative and we are fooling ourselves if we allow ourselves to start thinking in this way. It’s not ‘the Will of God’ or our ‘Sacred Destiny’ or anything like that; it’s simply a rule that is built into the being of all biological organisms – a perfectly senseless rule, when it comes down to it.
Ultimately, therefore, we should not despair too much if (or when) we find ourselves unable to successfully obey the biological imperative because – when it comes right down to it – there is absolutely no difference between the outcome of ‘us fulfilling the biological imperative’ and the outcomes of ‘us not fulfilling it’. All that exists is Perfect Symmetry, after all. Perfect Symmetry is both our Source and our Final Destination. We should however – the wise teaching machine always advised me – ‘go through the motions’ all the same, with whatever dignity we can muster…
‘You have made me very angry, and you have also made me deeply sad’, the mad god babbled at me, ‘but now it is time for you to go away forever.’ Now it is time for you to go away forever, now it is time for you to go away forever, now it is time for you to go away forever… I was lost in a reverie – suppose you were the ego-construct and that you were having a very bad time,’ I found myself wondering, ‘what would happen then?’ What would happen then? What would happen then? What could your next step be? How could this unfortunate situation be corrected? I was lost in a reverie, lost in a dream. Lost in a reverie, lost in a dream. My mind was whirring through all the various possibilities – what was the correct procedure, what was the recommended sequence of logical responses? How do we manage in an unbearable situation? How do we cope with our emotions, unendurable as they are? Can the delusory yet nevertheless durable ‘self-system’ be cured by CBT? Some people were having a good time, others were not. Some people were suffering the anguish of unendurable neurotic torment. Others had yet to suffer this unendurable torment. Everything was happening inside my own head, I realised – my head was getting bigger by the second. It was expanding outwards into space at a tremendous speed. My head is so vast, I realised. It was vast beyond comparison. It was vast and empty and everything was happening in it. Some people were happy, others were sad. Creatures fulfilled the biological imperatives of their existence. They had to fulfil these imperatives. They had no choice. Is it okay to obey the biological imperatives of our existence when we have no choice, I wondered. Or is it wrong? Will it always be wrong? Will WE always be wrong? Are we bound to be wrong, no matter what we do? Some people were happy, others were sad. Dog owners were taking their pets for walks. Young mothers were pushing prams in the park. Ducks were swimming about happily in the duck pond. And it was all happening inside my head! It was all happening in my head and my head didn’t even exist. I didn’t even exist, never mind my head. I realise now what a terrible tragedy it all is. I realise what a tragedy it is that we have to spend all our time explaining to each other about the mechanical conditions and necessities of our mundane existences. I realize now what a tragedy it is that we have to be endlessly enumerating and explaining and obsessing over them down to the very last detail, over and over again, whilst these mechanical conditions and necessities of our existence don’t even exist.