I'm In The Middle Of A Party!

I hope that the universe is treating you kindly today. I am having a decent afternoon so far, but as we all know that can turn on a tanner. Earlier, I thought I’d lost my wallet with a hundred pounds in. For a dubious moment, I was eavesdropping on my persecutory voices, waiting for the uproar in celebration. Fortunately, I found it. My wallet, that is. I seek perfection in all things I do, as one minor slip in mood brings forth glee from my oppressors. The fact that someone out there is enjoying my pitfalls and downturns make the pitfalls and the downturns doubly hard to manage. Having a tough old time of it is one thing, but your enemies, laughing as well, while they continually boot you in the bollocks with their dart-tipped lead wellies, is another.

My hygiene has been slipping and so has my abode. I haven’t completed a proper tidy-up in months. It would be cool, I think, to give the presences around me some decent nice luxurious surroundings for them to put their feet up in, as they torture me. It’s the least I can do. I feel like a pig swilling in mud sometimes, with my grimy carpets and smelly bathroom (the drains are blocked). And meanwhile, these glorious apparitions cast in angelic shimmery aura sit on my sofa, chewing my ears off. It makes for a stark contrast. I don’t know if they are TECHNOLOGICAL HOLOGRAMS from the government, or simple boring old ghosts. Whichever, they always look pristine.

Along with the covert brain weaponry being demonstrated on me, I appear to have been swept off my feet like Mary Poppins, and ditched down on some far-flung distant realm where anything is possible, including thought implantation, thought deletion, many other mystic afflictions to do with thought, and time control.

I continue, even though I am 60 days away from illicit drug use, to have uncanny and bizarre visions from the preternatural dimension. Their empire consists of the living, the dead and the fictional. One moment I am in physical pain, as people who are not there cause me grievous bodily harm; the next I am in Nirvana, being rescued by the torment by perceptions of happy children who want to talk to me. I cope with these madcap ‘hallucinations’ by consuming alcohol and nicotine. I’m finding joy in the small things, like food. My current favourite is battered fish with pepperoni pasta.

At least I’m not a couch potato anymore though, watching daytime TV all day long. With a mind as infected with other entities as mine, all with minds of their own, and those probably infected with other minds besides, then there really is no need for Oprah or Jeremy Kyle or Peston. Or The Daily Politics. Or The Sky At Night. Or all of the other garbage they air. Repeats, most of it, anyway. I used to like my television, I’d watch anything to keep my mind occupied, but now my mind is occupied with survival from alien races, mental illness, and gang-stalkers. That was my old life. Now, We’re In The New.

 

Blue Light

Well I hate to dispatch the message that I have just relapsed after 44 days clean, serene, pristine and supreme. Just thought I’d get that out of the way. Truth is (I told myself), I was bored of being clean. I’m just not a straight head and never have been unless the condition has been forced upon me, like it was in jail in my mid-twenties. As a Narcotics Anonymous compadre named Craig once said, “Being clean is like doing time.” Your release date is when you use again. It’s pure unclouded escapism to decamp from reality and scram away from life. But there is more to life than being an addict or not. There’s great music, good movies, and soulful companionship.

Don’t forget Christ. I will never leave you or forsake you. Is that the correct biblical terminology? Something like that. I believe it’s nor forsake you. I witnessed Jesus appear to me in one of my most recent hallucinations. He was carrying his cross, which sure-enough looked very heavy. He arose upon my blanket, at a time when I needed to be reminded of what he did for all of us, myself included. I receive a lot of visions on my blanket, for some reason. Maybe it’s because I spend a lot of time underneath it. Sometimes it’s like a portal into a different realm. I see dominions of warriors fighting wars in it. Little figures dancing and stuff like that. But it’s the way they move…so quickly, so sporadically, so supernaturally.

Once upon a time, a surge of a stream of blue light flowed out of me for about an hour. Because I was sinning at the time (fapping), I believed it was all of the good characters I had met, encountered and invented throughout my life. It was when I thought I’d lost my love (or was losing my love). The blue light was in the vague shape of the female form. It happened very slowly. Of course, because we’re talking about psychosis here, it is very difficult to describe. Not just in terms of language, but in terms of revisiting it, with all the sad, confusing and scary emotions which are carried along within the memory of it.

The blue light was keen intense sharply acute neon. Beautiful it was. One of the people who departed me was a woman called Constance Bell, the main female lead character in my favourite all-time book by the deceased author James Herbert, named Others. It was extremely unpleasant in the uttermost to glimpse the tableau of her luminously fluorescent presence vacate my psyche. The length and scope of her chiaroscuro, like radiant tinsel, was extraordinary. I told myself it was the Chinese Government using Project Blue Beam on me, which is basically induced hallucinations from satellites, as far as I understand it.

The next day I spent mindlessly wayfaring around my neighbourhood feeling dazed, distracted and disorganised. I was a devoid dry and hollow empty shell of a man. I didn’t (or hardly) knew what love was, only that I fiercely pined for it now it was gone. But it was too late. I was (I believed at the time) all on my own. I had had the universe in my fingertips and I had squandered it. I had had all I had ever needed and I had threw it away like some unwanted trash. All those women in my heart, now suddenly gone. Or so the Devil would have me think.