Death – Rambling Of A Madman – I Am Insane Today
The ageing process’s effects upon one’s body is insipid, inevitable and unwelcome. In truth we have to blame the design team for poor workmanship and product development. Lets face it even a tin of beans has instructions on the label. I possess the most valuable and complex electro/chemical body of life in the known universe and sod me there are no operating instructions apart from instinct and intuition. Not only have I wrecked the mechanical structure, the central processing unit is overloaded and through numerous confusions it blows fuses with regular occurrence. I am now one of the unfortunate few my fuse box is so damaged it is beyond repair.
I’m sliding into the ‘Happy Valley’ all is not as it seems. So let me cut through the web of years which traps many fools to the glory days of their distorted past and enter into a free fall toward the inevitable, named ‘death’ and have a few random thoughts about the designer (God) and the so called ‘Spirituals’ who profess to understand the Creator. There’s no heaven awaiting and the hell I’d prefer an imagination too.
God, the greatest writer, author, script-writer of all. Designer of the Universe is a confusing entity. He’ll bless random men or women and at the same time in the story – Shadow a child with thousand’s pestering flies and award the ballon stomach medal of starvation for the agonies – He’ll cancer a saint and long life a tyrant. The creator is a victim of writers block for all of his creative ideas he’s stuck. The master cannot finish the story with a different ending. Unlike a poorly written film there cannot be a sequel to tidy up unanswered questions. His stories place all of his characters in the quicksand of death.
Surely all that really exists is every memory retained within my mind? When life is over, the fat lady will sing and the incinerator’s flame will disappear my body and within my living mind I know I am content in the no thing of tomorrow. And, pleased my body will release my mind from the burden of thought. Burn me up Scotty the enterprise is over.
I no longer care that the certainty of a final sleep looms in the calendar of existence. I realise I don’t give a fig for the sods who have hurt, despised, tricked, deceived or hated me. In fact I realise it is not the experience of the many difficulties which mattered, it is the fact I’d allowed myself to become part of the non senses’s.
Best of all – NO the brilliance of my death is the probability more than a few will comment, “Good riddance I’m glad that bastards dead, I hope it was painful.” And I guide them to the certainty I’m pleased that in my absence I’ll still having an effect. And don’t deny it enemies, I know a few of you and maybe I spend a few hours researching your lives and lies before its over. I’m pleased to have agitated your petty, arrogant know all minds.
I realise I was never as sharp as I believed myself to be. I’m certain my mind is as blunt as a chewed fruit pastel and about as much use. I’ve made and lost a fortune and now I don’t give a toss people buy my work because of the lessons learned.
Old friends you’ll impress no one with generosity, kindness and charity. These are the attributes the rich take advantage of. I’m certain the moron believes giving to others will make them rich. They’re as IQ deficient as the small minded who pick up pennies thinking luck is the seed of wellbeing. Generosity never can and never will make a pauper wealthy, generosity is the privilege of the rich . What I should have known is worrying about others and buying friends is the toil of an idiot.
Spirituality is like planting an acorn in a desert in the hope there will be an oak tree on the spot the following day. It is a vacuum which sucks the words – Common Sense – Fact and Certainties – From ones imaginations and reasoning, for without common sense, fact and certainty, the venom of the spiritual viper will paralyse its victim before eating it alive. It is vacuous and will leave nothing more than questions and nothing.
To be a spiritual being all that is required is to swim in an ocean called truth and as many explorers of this evasive attribute discover the truth drowns many a pilgrim. And those who can work, interact, buy, sell, give, take enjoy, lie a little, drink to much, smoke when life is at an end, not be slave to money, and love this world and hate the bastards who destroy it, truly understand life. For there is no mystery, there is one journey, one life, happiness or pain. I’ll take happiness every time .
This last paragraph entices me to comment on some of the God whisperers I’ve met. From them I’ve learned valuable lessons. People do talk behind our backs and humans will conspire to deceive those they are envious of. And sycophantic wasps try to enter the beehives of those who believe themselves superior. Anyone can write a book of right thinking indoctrination, which seems to give wondrous answers to life’s conundrums. Problem is there is no answer, life’s a guessing game and as good as the worst bastard who comes into your environment. I’d guess just one in a million spirituals can live by his or her beliefs and I’ve never met that evasive number one, probably never will. And by the way, if I’m given a choice I’m not being reincarnated as anything other than a rich, healthy and wealthy man who lives in a world of sublime happiness where every human is stunning to look at and does not argue. It will be a world where cigarettes and booze will not kill me and motorcycles are as safe as breathing the air at the top of a Swiss Mountain summit.
I do not care if a celebrity dies or is billionaire. I know Hitler was a murdering bastard and millions of Germans loved him. Dangle a carrot of fear or prosperity and a whole populations follow the lies of a tyrant. When the Jews were pushed into the cattle wagon it wasn’t for tea with the Rabbi was it? And those who watched did they understand right and wrong? Of cause they did. The world is full of vindictive, poisoned mind bastards who wallow in their self importance. I am not a sheep or a slave, I’ve no interest or care for opinion or critic, like, love, dislike, hate or hate me, bring it on sweethearts I just love to have caused an interest in ME!
There comes a time when we realise we can say as we like. I know I have, and now do. It is a fact I’ve have enjoyed myself talking absolute crap to people all of my life and I will continue to do so. If I’d have known what the deal was, it would not have been a desire to be a diver, dentist, becoming a ‘mature’ theosophical degree student or all round good egg. I’d have been a writer and tap tap tapping on the key board is the way I should have gone right at the beginning, and the work does not have to be perfect. So many want to be perfect, pick holes in the work of others, rip the hearts out of those they do not know. I despise these ‘I’m better than you’ tossers and laugh and I mean laugh at their arrogance these critics are comedians in a concentration camp. Christ I know so many people who profess to know everything and they have FUCK ALL. They are fakes, fakes, fakes at least in my lie I am a reality.
Had I had written about a laughing leprechaun and an astronaut stranded in space things may have been different. Lets continue the possible story… During my early career, I’ll lie and say I’m queer. For a few years I go into obscurity in Berlin, surrounded by crazy Communism and cocaine addicts. My body and mind is abused and Against the odds I come back form obscurity. Over a forty year career I write and publish 258 short three minute stories, which is incidentally 13 hours of reading or seven shorts each year of the time scale and in return for public adoration of my genius I become worth eight hundred million or about three point one million per story. Above all I will do everything my way and without compromise. Would it work? Of cause it would, it did for the man who was a true genius, his name is of cause David Jones.
I believe his real wonder and majesty is within in the third from last sentence.
So I will repeat it.
Above all, I will do everything my way and without compromise.
If only I knew then, what I know now! I’m on my way in my own world and I dislike, detest, even hate some people, that is my being, my character and personality. I love and adore only a few and I could not care for any human being I do not know. I my final years I’m writing to antagonise, and I have no interest in anything other than tapping and recording my thoughts. Which I do Because I CAN do so, do not like my work? Then don’t read it, tell others not to read it, go out of your way to find fault. Make no mistake Miss Scarlett No Clue Though – If one, just one reader likes this essay, for all of its mistakes, ‘typo’s’. nonsense, then it was worth the effort.
Its all random, flee flow paragraphs. I’m not dead yet but the final sleep seems to be a sublime option.