Just to continue from yesterday…I don’t feel quite as tempted as I did do 24 hours ago. The shop is always within strolling distance though. I’ve just been thinking about the hairstyles waiting for me. I’ve been worrying about the uncouth forces aligning themselves up, patiently on tenterhooks for my homecoming, when they can prepare the ultimate woman with the perfect bouffant to ‘take care’ of my needs at home. I see it that way, sometimes. There’s no doubt about it, once the drugs take effect and it starts blowing a darkly storm outside, there are obviously a proportion of dismal wintry powers at work. They seek nothing, nothing but my ruin. By mine own hand.
Can these moony assemblages make up a film especially for me and place it at eye level/buy level in the boutique today? I wouldn’t put it past the Eternal Footman/Devil, who excels at anything even remotely negative going on in my life. I’ve grown up being told this narrative for many years, you know – that much if not all of the contemporary porn industry was designed exclusively for my arrival on Earth. Ridiculous, I know. But before I came along it barely existed, and now you can buy magazines with free DVDs attached in the local garage. I’ve been told that all of the movies I’ve slobbered over were specifically created for my particular indulgence. It makes foolproof sense when I’m in a florid psychotic state while viewing these ‘offerings’. The people in them know exactly what I like, oddly enough. Even worse, they are composed in dungeons right there underneath my flat, where the Nazis laid out secret bunkers (which double as studios) for me before I moved into the area. Mad innit. Just a hunch I have.
Sometimes I can hear them down there below. If it was just sex I’d be jeering and cheering them onto bigger and better exploits but they have to go and ruin everything with pain, don’t they? I’ll be like totally enveloped in a sex scene, falling in a cheap counterfeit version of love with the actors, who are doing a sublime jobbie, we’re all synced up with each other’s breathing and that, I’m enthralled in getting pleasured by them and they’re doubly enthralled in pleasuring me, the ‘live portal’ is blown chock wide open, we’re all happy bunnies…and then suddenly I’ll hear a wild blood-curdling scream and be transported to fear, spoiling the occasion.
The porn stars purpose is to steal my creativity and compassion and love by making me evil like themselves in the scene. Sometimes we have one hell of a power tussle over my fluids, which I never release as a general rule. But often I am so passionately involved in the carnal sensuality of the video/mantra that I forget who I am or where I belong. Clue given here: A Child of God. I often almost ‘cross over’ or ‘flip’ to the dark side. I would never ever do this willingly but I give myself cause for concern with doubts now and again. The ‘stars’ often want me to declare their names out aloud. They have me repeating many kinds of banned no-go phrases over and over in my mind. This attracts nothing wholesome to my side, I believe. So it’s no surprise you’re wondering why I’m sat here in the library haunted by a porn addiction and invisible black-ops, is it!?
Ah well, it is what it is. I am trying hard to stop, if that means anything to you. I hate myself for giving into the temptation and allowing that Footman in for the win with only the sound of sniggering laughter in his wake. I do well for long months at a time in the name of The Lord, pressing home a precious territorial advantage, but then that crafty rogue sneaks in the back doors and blows all of my superabundantly-created constructs down with violent winds of hate, sex and pain. My beautiful teenage maidens, which I seek protection from, vanish with abandon into temporary fatherless sundown.
I am left alone, joylessly and tearfully. In writing these painful yet liberating accounts I seek to offer myself a modicum of logic in which to observe while striding forward. Who knows, maybe you or someone you know can identify with the problems I face. Every day now I wake up in a mentality of warfare. Meat, caffeine, tobacco, drugs, alcohol, porn…booby traps are everywhere. I’m a real life super soldier fighting for the future of humankind, a hooked-up schizo with hallucinations, voices and hitmen clouding his every present judgement.
For, inside my delusions, I have worked out some very unsavoury conclusions awaiting my fate and perhaps even all of our own collective destinies. One for all, and all for one, and all that. I’m sworn to protecting a Holy Spirit present in my consciousness. It’s one thing I’m certain of. You can tell by the nature of my critiques that something very monumental is at work in my life. I intend to be brave and noble while creative enough to be able to explain what it’s like to be a psychonaut in today’s frenzied society, where all our norms are crumbling down around us, and the End Of Ages are supposedly upon us.
Fair well, Comrade.
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