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not sure if it's the same for writing stuff, but for software it definitely helps to be forced to start over a few times. 's called 'refactoring'                                                

Almost all the stuff I write is shit anyways. TBH I'm usly glad for the extra disk space.

Awesome! I was thinking the complete opposite - rigid order leads to strife, chaos cannot be contained.

If we can't explain/defend ourselves to our family, how can we expect to get the word to the larger population?

We can't. We can only ever make sense to minority of enlightened or on-the-verge individuals, hidden in the flock. Doesn't mean we should give up tho.

Yeah.  Thanksgiving was an interesting experience.  I was asked my views on things, and I had to walk the tightrope of getting my views expressed while not being dismissed as "wacky".

I 'came out' as a gay person once, at a family do. Was kinda interesting to see the reactions, from patronisingly accepting and supportive to 'how can you justify being gay' kinda attacks. I think my mum was the most disappointed. About 3 months later when she found out I'd only been kidding. She was very proud of her gay son and had gone round telling all her friends about it.

TBH I kinda like losing all my old stuff every so often anyway. Keeps the corpus fresh.

awwaggahrghghhhh.....FUCK!

please don't tell me that the SSOOKN essays are gone.....

shitty, man.

but you know the lesson, right?

ALWAYS have a hard copy.

Oh and another tip, don't think that backing up your stuff on another message board run on the same site is going to help. 

Yup.  My stuff was backed up on the Maine Platypus Cabal message board, also on attheforum.com   Me = teh screwed!!!

Online backups aint worth the paper they're printed on. Burn it to CD/DVD or run a disk mirror setup. Or be prepared to lose the lot.

I hate the way so many people on the net say they are insane.

Yeah me too. Buncha fkin wannabe's. Insane for me is being locked up in an insane assylum, pumped full of largactyl and haliperidol, hallucinating and ranting and freaking out, like on an acid trip but for real. Unbalaced was what got me that perspective. Now that I've (for the most part) redressed the balance - I'm not deranged anymore but I still have the perspective. I can still explore insanity. That's insane to me. I earned it. People who wear odd coloured socks because it makes others think they're eccentric and refer to themselves as insane have no fucking idea what insane means.

I've started reading A Booke of Days again by Stephen J. Rivele. It's a chronicle of a knight during the 1st Crusade and is an actual translation of an existing journal.

No it's not.

Good luck with that.

so far so good

But don't forget to keep in mind that you actually ming be mentally unstable.

I'm not as unstable as I used to be but I am completely and utterly insane by normal definition. The trick is hiding this when I'm around those cursed with the affliction that is sanity.

I saw some kind of metaphorical light. I tried to explain it to everyone, especially my family. They locked me up and injected me with chemicals. Especially my family. I learned to keep my mouth shut after the second time this happened. Maybe the mind unlocks with a magic word. Maybe it's a different one for each person. If so I don't know it. No one ever showed me I had to find it out myself. Now and again people will ask me something. I'll think real hard before I answer. If they aint ready to hear the truth they won't hear it.

Fuck. I'd forgotten I still had to finish this. Doesn't really make anything other than a typical trip story without part 2.

I vaguely remember stomping all the way home, fuelled by blind panic and the need to get safely tucked up in bed. I'd regressed to an infant who believed the closet monster wont get him if he pulls the covers right up over his head. I finally reached the front door of my house. Sanctuary. I opened the door and walked in, up the stairs, across the landing and into my room where, for some inexplicable reason my dad was sitting on the sofa watching my tv.

"Where you been?" he asks me

"Up at tam's. Not feeling well. Think it's something I ate." I replied

I climbed into bed, trying to ignore the Two Ronnies on tv who were in serious danger of letting the cat out the bag, singing, as they were, some hilarious number full of not so subtle references to how tripping I was.

"Don't you think you should take your coat and boots off?"

I looked down and the bed was covered in my blood. No, hold on, it was mud. Shit! I'd been out for hours, tramping through fields in the pissing rain. I had a brief fight with my coat which eventually conceded and melted off me somehow. I had less success with my boots. It's really hard to unwravel a knot when the whole concept of string has ceased to make any kind of sense to you. The laces seemed to be wriggling somehow. I left them on. "What did you have to eat?" Dad asked me. "Fucked if I know." I replied. I was going to make something up but I couldn't remember what kind of food would seem realistic in this situation so I gave up and passed out..


"You've really gone and done it now haven't you?" God told me. It was later. I'd kinda worked that out on my own, despite the fact that I had no idea how time worked anymore. Right now it seemed to be frozen. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I asked of my creator but he'd disappeared. There were voices outside my bedroom. Two paramedics were patiently and sympathetically explaining to my father (the earthly one) that I'd been eating magic mushrooms and accidentally swallowed a couple of deathcaps.

"JESUSFUCKINGSHIT I'M DEAD!"

My life flashed before me. I never got that expression before. How could seventeen whole years 'flash'. Surely in a period of time as short as a flash you could only sqeeze in a few frames of choice highlights? I wasn't in a period of time though. There was no such thing as time where I was. It was glaringly obvious from this dead perspective that time was some kind of trick I'd been playing on myself, a delusion. In point of fact my whole life as I saw it play out before me, over and over again, like a merry go round that was revolving so fast it made me feel dizzy, was nothing but an illusion.

I relived every moment I'd ever been privy too. It was so real, the illusion so complete that, just like when one is dreaming, I kept forgetting this was an illusion. Most of my life I just lived, the same way it had happened originally, completely oblivious to the fact that I'd done all this before. Maybe I hadn't, the whole thing was an illusion anyway. Maybe I'd never really done any of it before. There was no such thing as before or after, there was only now and I was looking at it.

Now and again I became aware of what was going on. I remembered the death. I was trapped in this constantly repeating seventeen year loop of life and somehow I had to get back to where I'd been. I couldn't remember where that was. I kept forgetting til the last moment and eating the shrooms and dying then being born and doing the whole thing all over again. I was a five year old kid, sitting on a merry go round in a playpark near where I used to live. I broke down in tears because I knew I had died but I couldn't remember when. This was heavy shit for me to take onboard when I was five.

Somehow I left the loop. Not by finding the right place or by managing to avoid the deathcaps and carrying on a different timeline, as I'd tried repeatedly to do, but rather by transcending the whole object that became my life, viewed from a distance.  'Viewed' is probably the wrong word in this context, since it implies something visual which this experience was not but it's the best I can come up with, given that I'm not aware of a word that defines the interpretation of a sense which is not defined by the five that human manifestation has to offer.

If i wasn't 'viewing' this existence I'd led then it definitely didn't 'look' kinda donut-shaped but again that's the best I can come up with. What I was seeing seemed to be the universe, stretched out over seventeen years, forming a donut. And there wasn't just one, my one, there were billions of these. I explored most of them, from millions of perspectives, from people to animals to plants to rocks. I was a star, burning for millions of years, before collapsing and forming a black hole. I was some wierd kinda fish thing, swimming around in the darkness of the bottom of an ocean, fuck knows where. I was towns and cities populated by every wierd alien species imaginable and some probably unimaginable. To do the things I did in that 'flash' would have taken billions and billions of years, maybe even an infinite ammount of time.

Every time I left a situation, a quantum possibility matrix, I remembered who I was 'really'. I'd carried enough of my ego into this timeless state to keep a hold of this, despite the fact that I now understood that there was, ultimately, only one singular point of view, imagining the whole shooting match. This was a void and one dreamer was dreaming everything. I was the dreamer dreaming my dream and every one and everything else, was the dreamer dreaming theirs. The notion of one true god suddenly made sense to me but since that god was me and everyone else I kinda figured that religion had gotten derailed somewhere along the line. Maybe it'd started from people who'd seen this but for the servitude thing I figured it was either people who'd gotten the wrong end of the stick or people who didn't understand what they'd been told that had kept the whole thing going. I'd been taught about the universe and how I fit in there by people who had no fucking idea what was going on.

I don't remember how I found my way back to my own tripping head but I did. Turned out I hadn't eaten deathcaps. Seems I'd just told myself this because somehow some part of me had figured it was a surefire way to slingshot me out of the 'real world' and into the quantum flux of the void. Maybe that part of me was god. Maybe it was something external but whatever it was I was thankful. Thankful for the whole shooting match. Every existence I will ever exist. Ateh, Malkuth, Ve Geburah, Ve Gedulah, Le Olam, Amen.

THE BABY JESUS ORDERS YOU TO CELEBRATE HIS BIRTHDAY!!!

Be a good consumer and buy lots. Get fucked up on as many chemicals as you can lay your hands on and drive fast cars.

The real headfuck for me is when a tv cabbage asks me "how the hell can you spend so much time just staring at a computer screen?" I'm wired into the same cathode ray emitter as they are, surely it's not such a leap of faith to understand why someone might want a two way interaction but hell I've given up trying to explain it. I try to remain optimistic. The rise of consoles means that the vegetables might be encouraged to develop rudimentary problem solving techniques or improve their reaction times and spacial awareness. Fuck even voting for who they want to win pop idol requires some level of decision making. Sometime soon assholes like me are going to be streaming counter propaganda into their living room via converged tv/internet. Maybe it aint all black after all.

It's 9:20 pm and I venture downstairs to grab a beer. I pass the TV where my family sits enraptured as Ant and Dec feed some z-list celebrity a plateful of maggots or dogshit or something. I'm more appalled that the people I care about are lapping the shit up than the attention seeking fuckhead lapping shit up on the box. Welcome to the 21st century. Teevee aint even trying anymore. Two whole generations have been born and raised, plugged into the network. I can't help thinking the prophecies were true - this media really will destroy minds.

They used to have to justify it, back in the black and white days when RP stiffs would sell the party line on the news at 10. People were smarter back then, it took more work to fool them. That was then and this is now. A barely coherent borderline retard fucks up his lines and dribbles something incomprehensible in respose to a question raised in a press conference about why he, the president of the usa, is making a mountain of dead bodies somewhere in the middle east. That'd never have washed back in the day but now the viewers are satisfied with this answer. It's not even a coherent sentence but he was asked a question and noise came out his mouth - that's more than enough to pacify the people at home.

And here's me, settled down with these cabbages. The girl who fucks me and makes me laugh from time to time. The kid with the wicked sense of humour. I love these two but I can't help thinking I should do something about their unhealthy addiction to banality. "That's sad making people do that." she says to me. "Yeah but the shitheads keep watching." I respond "Give me a shout when celebrity chainsaw juggling comes on". Probably could have been a bit more tactful, I think to myself as she storms off downstairs in a huff, but what the fuck, I'm not gonna get drawn into a conversation about some semi famous fuckheads eating shit in a jungle.

I'm a free spirit - get me out of here!