Bad Guys: Heavy Times Taste Hard

I’ve gone through a lot of far-out eventualities here at the hotspot over the years, but not a lot of them have focused on high-vibrational joy. I almost disbelieve I am enraptured by rhapsodic episodes of joy, because it seems too good to be true, but I come across myself at multiple times of the day as laughing so hard that tears are wetting my eyes. It’s as if my recent state of melancholy has released sheer happiness in return.

At one point I was certain that I had lost a daughter. Now, with faith and hope, I only think I have. I mean, I can’t be sure any more. So many forces are at work, I don’t know which way to turn or what to fully trust in. But there is something in me that makes me half-believe that she may still be alive and well somewhere. She sent me a message in a dream which gave me immense hope.

The bad news is that her likeness has been taken over by a heretical stoutheartedness. A wretched spirit, in other words. It looks just like her and tries to vex us both. This is what has been causing me crushing titanic stress in recent times. A lot of religious folk refer to the Devil as the chief whip of their scuppering. My mentor used to call him ‘that dickhead downstairs’. I have had a lot of insults for him lately, and I’ve been letting him know each and every one of them.

How dare any force in nature put me through what I’ve been through!? It’s uncanny. Well, here’s what I do: I pull high vibrational joy out the bag, along with a new daughter birthed nowhere but in the depths of ma restored happy heart. So, if there really is a Devil, apart from mere supremely petty bullies worshipping power and money, he can take that one home with him, mount it on his bespoke mantelpiece, and use it to keep his apt pupils away from the fire. Because I’ve had it with him.

If the swampy soup of brain projections I doggy-paddle in are anything to do with a supernatural deity who collects human souls, then I’ve decided to try and make a determined effort to ignore him and his minions. I’ve been working out low-down energies and they are governed by negative emotions which are currently far out of my scope. I’m nowhere near fear or grief or anxiety or shame, like I have been while steeped in the murky world of porno and naughty substances (including tobacco and alcohol).

I’m full of gratitude, appreciation, wonder, curiosity, relief, reason and enlightenment. Believe you me, I’m celebrating these illusive feelings with non-alcoholic brews to drown myself in sober merriment. All I get told by the unseen enemy is that I’m not going to Heaven, and that they have ownership over me. Me and my faith In Christ have different plans.

Times are hard, don’t get me wrong, one scroll along the hotspot should reveal that demonic activity is present in my existence, but I am standing up erect on the ashes of my ashes/in the temples of my Gods to face what lies beyond them with love, affection and compassion.

I’m a decent kinda guy. The Good Lord knows this.

I’ve gone through a lot of far-out eventualities here at the hotspot over the years, but not a lot of them have focused on high-vibrational joy. I almost disbelieve I am enraptured by rhapsodic episodes of joy, because it seems too good to be true, but I come across myself at multiple times of the day as laughing so hard that tears are wetting my eyes. It’s as if my recent state of melancholy has released sheer happiness in return.

At one point I was certain that I had lost a daughter. Now, with faith and hope, I only think I have. I mean, I can’t be sure any more. So many forces are at work, I don’t know which way to turn or what to fully trust in. But there is something in me that makes me half-believe that she may still be alive and well somewhere. She sent me a message in a dream which gave me immense hope.

The bad news is that her likeness has been taken over by a heretical stoutheartedness. A wretched spirit, in other words. It looks just like her and tries to vex us both. This is what has been causing me crushing titanic stress in recent times. A lot of religious folk refer to the Devil as the chief whip of their scuppering. My mentor used to call him ‘that dickhead downstairs’. I have had a lot of insults for him lately, and I’ve been letting him know each and every one of them.

How dare any force in nature put me through what I’ve been through!? It’s uncanny. Well, here’s what I do: I pull high vibrational joy out the bag, along with a new daughter birthed nowhere but in the depths of ma restored happy heart. So, if there really is a Devil, apart from mere supremely petty bullies worshipping power and money, he can take that one home with him, mount it on his bespoke mantelpiece, and use it to keep his apt pupils away from the fire. Because I’ve had it with him.

If the swampy soup of brain projections I doggy-paddle in are anything to do with a supernatural deity who collects human souls, then I’ve decided to try and make a determined effort to ignore him and his minions. I’ve been working out low-down energies and they are governed by negative emotions which are currently far out of my scope. I’m nowhere near fear or grief or anxiety or shame, like I have been while steeped in the murky world of porno and naughty substances (including tobacco and alcohol).

I’m full of gratitude, appreciation, wonder, curiosity, relief, reason and enlightenment. Believe you me, I’m celebrating these illusive feelings with non-alcoholic brews to drown myself in sober merriment. All I get told by the unseen enemy is that I’m not going to Heaven, and that they have ownership over me. Me and my faith In Christ have different plans.

Times are hard, don’t get me wrong, one scroll along the hotspot should reveal that demonic activity is present in my existence, but I am standing up erect on the ashes of my ashes/in the temples of my Gods to face what lies beyond them with love, affection and compassion.

I’m a decent kinda guy. The Good Lord knows this.