Monday, 13 March 2017


Woke up in a unique fabricated illusion.  It's mine.  It's what is loosely referred to as "me".  But I am not the illusion.  If there were an "I" then I am the perspective.

What is Art?  Give me a fucking huge grant and a prestigious position in an international Art Institution then I'll tell you.  Annie Lennox singing Sweet Dreams springs to mind.  "Everybody's looking for something."  I can't give everybody what they want because everybody is looking for something different.  Some of them want to abuse me.  Some of them want to be abused.

Finding an anchor point, a rock to stand on, a fixed perspective, is nigh on impossible.  It's all relative and any reference point is relative to something else.  It is nice when you can hear someone shouting abuse at you and you can see their trauma instead of feeling their pain.  It is good when you can remain calm in a tumultuous sea of despair.  There is a world of difference, however, between a sanctimonious privileged hypocrite condescending feigned stoicism and a calm spiritually centred mystic.

When people altercast at you they are simply projecting their trauma.  They are falsely holding on to a fixed reference point putting any disturbance or deviation down to you.  They are like a snake that needs a fixed object as leverage before it can crush you to death.  But being human inside these volatile circumstances it is not possible to be a static external unmoved observer.

So when the pressure increases and your family turn against you and your government slowly destroys you and every which way you turn you cannot find anyone with any influence who is not going to conspire with the cultural consensus to cut off your oxygen and suffocate you to death it all begins to feel hopeless.  I'll commit suicide.  That'll teach them.  Then they'll be sorry.  But that's been done before and it won't teach them anything and they'll probably be glad to be rid of me.  I know; I'll take out a few "innocents" with me.  I'll go into the Council Offices with a bomb and blow the whole place up.  That'll make people wonder what the fuck was going on.  No it won't.  It's been tried before.  I know ... I have a better idea, I'll kill my daughter.  That will really fuck with their minds.  That'll make them realise how hideous they are.  That'll make them sorry and finally they will pay attention to me and stop trying to kill me.  Hmm ... That won't work either.  They'll just blame it all on me and walk away muttering to themselves about how dreadful I am and why I should be terminated.  There must be a better way.


What I'll do is send my daughter into the world to be abused by them.  I'll let them pursue her and hound her and accuse her and finally murder her.  Then everyone will be shocked.  Then they'll realise what they're doing.  Then they'll feel sorry for me and try to make reparations and worship me and adore me and love me in a desperate attempt to atone for their demonic crimes.  Then I'll have them under my thumb.  They'll never be able to forgive their own despotic, ruthless, bestial, cruel, vicious nature.  They will forever be under my control.

There's one small problem with that.  It's been tried before.  When everything else fails send your son into the world and create such a fucking humungous guilt complex that for thousands of years humanity will suffer in the hell of its own insatiable guilt.  They'll escalate you to a God and worship and adore you forever.  They'll even repeatedly commit genocide for you and in your name.  How's that for success?

Oh well - I guess I'll meander off and think of something more creative to do with my time.