RUDIMENTS, pt. 723
(all this dated matter can't be real)
I guess its always been a
bugbear of mine (a what?
What does that even mean?),
that whole thing about churches
and their centralized rituals
and the rest. I rather always
thought of life as the 'big
accidental' - the story that
that grew from nothing, crawled
out of the sea, and took flight,
or grew legs, or whatever better
fits. ('What are you saying, you
pipsqueak?' - What's that? Do
pips actually squeak?). No, not
really; I've always been the
strongest advocate of the
mystical : This life is a true
panorama that doesn't even
exist. And we are being watched
every moment of our lives by
other entities to see what we
will do, or are doing. By the
circumstance, and by chance :
All these dilemmas come
flying at us. Here we are, all
hands held together, trying to
be as one but really a broken
apart and fragmented mess.
An 'acclimation!' that's us.
-
We exist among too many
paradoxes, and to compensate
for that, mostly the body and
the mind simply ignore reality.
Now, no realist would ever
admit to ignoring reality - after
all, by definition that's what a
realist is about. But, the 'reality'
they lay claim to is false, and
does not exist except by the
parameters of the fantasy by
which they accept it all and
then have it conform to all
else that fits the mass-means
by which such belief is upheld.
On the other hand, were anyone
to stop for a moment and think,
really think, outside of the fated
rules and laws and science of
the make-up of the reality thus
inhabited, I'm fairly sure that
people (realists included) would
begin wanting to see real proof
of why 'water' isn't flying all
over the place, and most
certainly why it isn't just
falling off the rounded globe
as it reaches the round bottom
levels. Outside of the conceptual
container-fiction of what we've
called 'Gravity' how is it that
we get anything to do anything
at all? Flowers that buzz to flies
and bees that buzz to flowers.
Seasonal changings everywhere,
the wind and the sky and the light.
Dear me, this all needs accounting
for - stories of fandom and the
light fictions of episodes alone
won't fully suffice. We break all
of those self-made bounds with
rockets and engines, thrust and
torque and force. Why not then
is any of that not denied? All
this dated matter can't be real.
And I don't know how, without
the mystic aspects, any of it
can be taken as real.
-
One of the things that really
rattled me, growing up - a
peculiarly Catholic fascination,
in this case, mostly with, in
this case, religious graft, was
the idea of 'Mass Cards.' I
never knew what they were;
no one really around me had
yet died. Only later, as people
began dying off, was I exposed to
this most atrocious and doubtful
practice. In fact, just to remain
nice here, I won't say precisely
what I viewed it as, but, if this
was any indication of the sort of
prattle normal people accepted,
then it was no wonder to me that
the rest of the world had become
so skewed. (I probably could add,
as well, 'skewered.')... The very
indulgent idea here (get the pun,
Mr. Luther?), was that the dead
person, while not quite being up
to snuff enough to get the express
train to 'Heaven,' could be aided
and pushed along a bit with the
help of these cards, which somehow
equated a silent thought or a quick
mention by name, from Father
Speedball over there, in the course
of a mass that he was to be saying
anyway, with that extra push for the
dead person's exterminated end-point
being pushed along quicker to that
other realm - of whatever it was
said to be. But, that in itself wasn't
quite enough - the idea here was
to pay the church a twenty or so,
in solid American currency, to
facilitate this streetcar transfer. As
I rolled along in all this church and
catholic wordplay - between my
bouts of nausea induced by it - I
realized, even worse, that gentle
old women (usually those are the
ones doing this), who are receiving
these 'Mass Card' things sometimes
in the mail as fund-raising efforts
by this or that mission, church, or
affiliated organization, were using
these cards - not paid for, unfunded,
and not acknowledged - for the
purposes of having the grieving
survivors assume these were
bona-fide Mass Cards. If such a
thing could be said to exist. A
total and flagrant violation, in
these cases, even of the fiction
involved. Hell awaits, with its
vicious maw just waiting to
gobble up these old, insincere
women of naivete. The world was
truly be made of something, if
it's not made of these.
-
People bow down; people say
yes; people willingly undertake
these most rotten and transparent
shake-downs, for only the cost
of their own fantasies - turning
that fantasy into yet another layer
of an unproven reality that bears
no relation to anything. Not to
breathing. Not to dice. Not to
dining. Not to success, or failure.
You can be as staid and as static
as you want to be, but by believing
any part of this gibberish - it
didn't take me long to find out,
and from the inside too - you're
falling for all the falsities of
Mankind's whims and aggressions
through all the years. It's the same
old dead-rabbit routine, except
you're trying to pull the hat out
of the rabbit. I don't think it was
ever supposed to work like that.
And the rabbit's long dead.
-
If you mistake, if you misunderstand,
'Life' - and if you do that with the
fair cognition and awareness of doing
it, you may as well just die tomorrow.
Life is Magic - hell, the air we
breath is magic. It's got electricity,
it's got unseen molecules and
energies in it, it enters us, transforms
our being each time, lets us go on,
has water, has powers, and, even
when it gets pretty bad as 'air'
because of us, it still allows us to
breath and live. That's an amazing
suite of small rooms.
-
I've kind of been in training my
whole life - the tragic part is,
now, I see it was all training
for nothing at all, except from
my own viewpoint. Nobody
hears me, and I get nothing
back. I'm quite normal! The
skill-set, however, that I've
learned to deal with is one
that accepts all that and knows
how to transform it. It's all
pretend. I'm rich. I'm famous.
I have adulation. People
worship me. And I just go
on, like this, transforming
everything, and I'll do that
until the day I die. I trained
myself a long time back
to need nothing because I
have everything.
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