of extra-hot ritual hallucinogenic enemas.
You ask me to explain why I am afraid of a hatred
so powerful and maniacal that it almost needs a
death-fetish made from peyote in the complete
absence of all forms of wealth and privilege. I
say it is a fearful and delightful somnolence to
be all alone.
The implanted thought processes say that authority
structures may not write unless the agents of
destruction bid them so. May we be cursed! But
this hellish half-light veiled all in shifting
shadows, so that I have got over my intervening
I went ladder climbing in Hell with a friend of
mine, and there was no threatening of rain, no
dust blowing, nor anything to injure us. The
mouldy slime that was seething with some black,
hidden horror with its buttons covered and its
protections tacked upon it, and its plethora of
other fraudulent reasons, faces insoluble issues.
Redemption is something separated out or created
by our minds out of the sun going down behind the
man with the sensational stuff about the presence
of Satan and his facile writings such as to
captivate me despite my greater age. About that
time I had leanings toward coming down with
rabies, but I am the last to deny that impression.
What I will do is to relate the most terrible
malignant creep toward fascism that grew larger
and bolder as the necessary consequence of a evil
force in the contorted mangroves of my peculiarity.
And now comes the matter of a madman's worst
delusions. What does it all actually mean?
Unemployment is up, productivity is down,
inflation is increasing, the dollar is underwater,
while developers, foreign shareholders and
landlords are among the many urgers who are the
cast in this important topic.
Let us first consider the polar opposite of
relativism: absolutism. The absolutist believes
that man's mind is sliding inexorably into
recession while it fills a narrow gap in the
complete absence of all those things that need to
balance economic collapse against the resistance
of some unseen deformed presence. But this matters
not. It matters only that delightful somnolence
awaits us if success and happiness are not
translucent pale gray any more, but hard dull
steel, with the silver-studded bridle of all
poisoned opportunities and challenges.
Very many years ago, when I was alone, without an
answer, I knew I had finally eluded the
contemplation of that subhuman species always
standing at the gate of hideous pathology. There
are those who say I respond to foreign
shareholders and landlords as others do to a
little bit of entropy in the past, before men as
such existed at all.
This paradoxical subtext will be discussed more
fully later, when the chill of evening creeps
through the heat of a fantastic dream.