Aside From Sutter Kane

Well, it looks like I’m bolloxed now, as I have no subject matter to rant about! The last couple of weeks have been productive for me. I’ve enjoyed scribbling away every single day. This gig would be wellard to do as sustained paid employment, as the ideas have a tendency to dry up. I’m always in the mood to sit in the secretarial chair and eyeball the White Void, and I have lists of noted prompts on my phone, but executing glimpses of a notion into written form, and doing so online, isn’t straightforward.

I do come bearing possible bad news about my apology class. Because it’s over-attended (to put me off), they’re thinking about splitting it into two smaller groups (to keep me away). This potential change has got the alarm bells jangling. I always have preference for a larger gathering. The management is doing this because I fancy one or two of the ladies there. You have no idea how far the authorities will go to prevent me from meeting up with fellow high-vibrational comrades.

One day, I might meet a counterpart suffering Targeted Individual.

In the thick of the extremely long list of abuses perpetrated unto TIs, keeping us apart from one another is up there among the very most unforgiveable of them. Preach.

I have identified several, and it’s not very many at all, worthwhile genuine personas in my life. When you live within the pretext that “Everyone is a demon,” (Zersetzung* advice), this positive realisation is quite important. So there is someone I can fight for then? Thank God. I’ll man up for them…

I just pulled one lady aside after the meeting, and told her she was hugely needed in this current climate of pretenders and fakers. I’d never bonded with her before. They were stouty words. But they needed saying. I’d always thought of her as nobody before, just an elderly nonentity making up the numbers. Now I see her as beacon of light, and a valuable ally.

As soon as I detect someone vital like this, I am met with a squabble of mass imposters trying to split us up. They get up to all kinds of petty behaviours like talking over people, hijacking conversations, making unnecessary noises to disturb testimonies, using their phones when unneeded, and other cheap tactics. When several of them eencroach on an unknowing target, their small but disgusting tricks work.

When I’m present, however, in soldier mode from God, it’s a different story. I’m wise to their pathetic jealous games. Because I have a bigger and better agenda rather than running around trying to keep substantial personalities away from each other.

My present mission is to be Sutter Kane. This always starts by declaring, “I! Am! Sutter! Kane!” at the top of my voice, no matter where I am, even if it happens to be in a silent-as-tiptoe official commons law court. I am able to change into different people not because I am an evil shape shifter, like some of those other egotistical bozos out there who receive that capability from evil spirits they worship, but because I serve Sutter Kane in The Sacred World-Building Arena Of Literature, where anything is possible.

I’m only making a joke of ‘being’ him by the way. No one can ‘be’ Sutter Kane. Only he himself can do that. And no, before you ask, he isn’t a pen name for Stephen King. He’s far better than Stephen King, and I don’t know what you reckon personally, but I think that Stephen King is pretty awesome. If better is the right word. It’s not about being better than someone else, it’s about being as good as we each can be.

The only person I worry about bettering is myself.

All writers are visionaries, with wide open publicly-available souls and grapevine-accessible dreams in the collective consciousness of Gaia. They are widely influential in the societies they live. Sometimes, if they are potently serious about their craft, their work becomes alive, like in the Holy Bible. Sutter Kane knows all about abilities like this. How? You ask. Well, because he creates them.

To describe Sutter Kane and his work is practically impossible. He is simply too goddamn conclusively pristine at it. He stretches the imagination when it boils down to wondering just how much know-how majestic freelancers have at their disposal. It is rumoured that he changes his own environments by typing about them. He writes things ‘in and out’ of his work which affect the reality of his surrounding social fabric. If he describes a pink penguin smelling of cigar-smoke, one might appear close by somewhere. He has to be careful about what he inscribes due to this. Huh. Don’t we all?

I’m immersed in ‘total love’ with Sutter Kane. It’s reported that his very first words as a baby were, “I-guess-ed-they-fish-ed-me-a wri-ter.” His parents said he would have conversations with the stars. They nicknamed him The Constellation Spotter, because he was always pointing at the sky before he could walk. Little else is known about him.

If you would like to learn more, watch the movie In The Mouth Of Madness (1994). That’s where I ‘borrowed’ him from. He’s a silver mulleted masterclass of wise prophetic kosmos-creating grand wizardry. He does nothing but live in a tunnel fashioned from a wormhole and write at his elaborate keyboard and portal like a circus master. I’m merely touching upon him here, but straight up dude, I find him sooo interesting. He inspires me to scrawl on.

Yes, even on the days when I don’t know what to say. When I’m stumped with the block I recover by reaching out and touching Sutter Kane’s dressing gown, which he occasionally poses for pictures in on his cabin boat, eating cereal for breakfast in the morning when the sun is rising on the horizon. He likes posing for important press releases this way, it’s his style, although he doesn’t have a makeover for it. He just casually brushes his hair and ‘blesses up’. ‘Blessing up’ is merely having a hot swill in the bathroom wash basin. He calls it this because he believes keeping clean is a gift from God.

Long live Sutter Kane. “I! AM! SUTTER! KANE!” joke

*Zersetzung is a Stasi program meaning decomposition