Sometimes in a dark room in the deep recesses of my mind, I turn to face the mirror that I am and begin to
realise just how much I act like the real me. Somehow it always manages to confuse me that I am one such person whose idea
of personal freedom is to imagine as if I'm locked in a cage, all alone... without the comfort of a nightlight. This freedom
isexpressed by my ability to think like that without the threat of that bad man around the corner...
Absurd I know, but it really and truly is why I'malive. It's pretty hollow, but I guess it's something...
besides, what else is there to cling to? Sure, family and friends are important, but they're just as much a part of this mess
as everyone else is. There seems to be no point in putting someone on a pedestal, no-one else cares and in the end it's all
false, insecure pride anyway, we are all trying to out-do each other and no matter how close we get, just so someone can sit
up and take notice. Then we go to the "better place"...
They say dreams are made there, but only the good people get in. But who decides who gets in, who gets to
stumble through the pearl gates of physical unconsciousness and into eternal bliss? All the so-called good "people of the
faith," who for the most part have never really done anything spectacular, stress that there is a divine judge at these pearly
gates. Well then, tell me where the pearly fucking wall is!!! And, if there's none, tell me why someone hasn't wandered around
the gates.
I don't know if it even exists, nor do I care... I'm not alone, and neither are the faithful. But who knows
who is right or wrong? How can you judge someone on their lack of faith? With this much to consider, can you blame me for
it?
I feel ever so trapped by all this talk and time is ticking away as we speak..
How long is left and who can tell me??
... I know, I'll ask the Mad Hatter!! I'm sure he has the answer! His knowledges never ceases to astound
me. One of his yummy biscuits shoulddo the trick! And while I'm at it, I think tonight I shall go down the lane and pick up
a pint of milk and take it to my good friend, Beelzebul. He'd appreciate that. And he certainly enjoys milk! I wouldliketo
do the same thing for my mother but... alas... she is lactose intolerant and Paddy doesn't grow soya beans..
Maybe tomorrow I can stroll on down to Artemis' tiny cottage in Little South of Heaven and
see how her influenza is coming along. Shehasbeen working so hard to get it, bless her timid little soul...
Artemis like to paint vivid orgies! Which is a bad thing, but then again, she IS the Roman Goddess of fertility,
so it's nothing unusual for her. And her father, Zeus... he was very strict and he had an extremely large libido... so I guess
spawning a child filled with a lot of artistic/sexual frustration was certainly bound to happen sooner or later. Artemis is
a Neo-Nazi/Pagan, and her cousin Percy is a 'communist-monarchist' and they're always arguing. Percy is quite silly, because
I don't think such a political stance is possible. He think's he is right so I guess I'll let him have his way... I'm kind
of afraid of him, as he's made up of miniature nuclear weapons built around a reactor core... and he hasa thing for bright,
shiny buttons. He says that I think too much. But then again, I'm told his is entirely a manifestation of mind, so it doesn't
mean too much if he tells me things... tee hee...
