* the bible is not a book. it's a library. most people are not allowed in there. should i smoke another cigarette. i'll have one to decide. if the warnings in the packs are true, i should be dead a thousand times. the results are still inconclusive. need to smoke more. for science. God gave us not freedom, but limits. oneness is the least common denominator and God is the great divider. from many different angles, it's a very small step from nihilism to ex nihilism. and vice versa. if i wanted to elaborate i would. fruit ripens in the summer. then comes the fall. maybe Eve was just tired of the heat and wanted to fast track things. some things are fine and reasonable (and cute) for a child to believe and not for adults. the same is true for civilizations. yeah i'm in favor of ubi. universal basic intelligence. but it's not gonna happen i'm afraid. God made a world of difference in a universe of sameness. many try to destroy or deny his work. they are my enemies. if i want to be a successful writer, i need to add at least two initials to my pen name. like J. K. Laeth. if i want to be a respectable one, i need to add three, like J. R. R. Laeth. the most appropriate would probably be B. S. Laeth. i'm against the melting pot and for the cooling rack and drying shelf. we need patrons of the arts. and by the arts i mean me and my friends. we should not have to suffer the indignity of working for a living. i'm not writing from the twelfth century. not even the twentieth. not even twenty twelve. time changes everything. to the six year old you say, Don't eat all the cookies in the jar. to the sixteenth you say, Don't court all the girls in the class. the boars come quite close to the garden every night. i hear them grunting and rustling through the brush. i see their very distinctive shadows scatter quickly when i approach. i wish they would want to be friends, but i understand why they don't. i understand now why i haven't been successful at finding a publisher. querying sounds too much like queering. i could never be good at it. i was ahead of the curve ball. it hit me in the face. why do i feel so fin de siecle, this blase malaise, longing for avant garde and art nouveau, when i hate french so very much. eventually you need to stop seeking and start finding yes, i live in the past because i'm homeless in the present. i think of how my literary heroes would not understand jazz fusion and it's confusing everyone who ever did anything good is still alive some men think God is nameless because they never thought to introduce themselves, and others because they could not hear him over the sounds of their own thoughts. i feel so spent when i finish, an empty chasm in my belly, breathing heavily, a desperate need to smoke. i'm talking about writing of course. to hate love, you must love hate. but to love love, you must love hate. no symmetry. yeah i'm a villain, i live in a village. when i was a child i had out of body experiences often. it always happened in the same way. i was in the living room, watching television at night, then my head would feel like it was vibrating and i would 'detach' and hover over my body, watching it from above. i could never go very far, it was like there was a tether. but i could 'float' around the room and even a bit into the hallway. i can't remember how i 'got back'. it stopped around puberty. we are all at the mercy of weaknesses beyond our control a couple of pages in i can already tell Colin Wilson will be one of those that will stay with me forever. everything is vibes: lovers, friends, artists. and in my experience, it's immediate: you either vibe right away or not at all. or maybe i'm just a quitter.
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