john rah essay

Where to go from Here
If I knew how to make it clair, perhaps I wouldn't find it necessary to use so many words. But I don't, so I do.

I am aware that most don't care for written words. Even fewer care for a tearing down of thousands of years of customs and beliefs.

Alas. It is my calling. It's what makes me move. Today we'll go right back to the start of the lie. Was it constructed over nothing so that nothing would be hid. Or was it to cover up something our ancestors did.

If that ain't the same thing.

For example. Perhaps we were an intelligent species living like gods in a paradise of transcendent physical and mental ecstasy

And some pricks came along and fucked it over. On account they didn't want us taking over the universe.

But they wanted creatures to use as war toys.

The question might be. Fuck me. Who the hell are these high priests of deception. And why build a death lie over such a state of being.

So maybe there was nothing. Just a desert.

And the lie was the foundation to build anything and everything to stop up the big nothing.

It likely doesn't matter either way. What matters is to think about it and how to partake in it.

Now that we know a lie is a lie.

We leave it up to love. To fix it.

It's one of those non-thing things. If hate is its opposite, the world is about to be swallowed up in love. Hate for simple minded lugs. The first evolutionary stage after fear of existence.

Let me tell of a dream I had as a child.

Younger than now.

I've told it before. It was a moving dream. Subrosa.

There it was. My me was there seeing it. But not seeing where my me started or came to a point.

On the beach. Sunny warm and a gentle breeze. Where the sand turned to long grass, sat a house. A white holiday house. Wood. With wood patio all around.

But no one was around.

And the sky went from blue to gray. To dark. Storm winds screaming. In my head, whatever it was, screaming like an electric guitar. Maybe I was at the movies. The film no one made.

The ocean was throwing up dark green waves on the sand. With giant tortoises. Dead.

A empty skull hung in the air. Pain. Becoming a thing with a spine. A brutal beast with a heavy mammoth body, a long thick neck and a hooked beak. The new thing was before hate. Before fear. Simple rage.

Beside the creature was another like it.

No calculation, simple action. No time to react. It was its first. Attack with jaw rapped around the neck of the other beast. Screams.

Often we still pick at each other.

With words.

Or bombs.

I'm not convinced of many things. But I am convinced we could change how we take part in this thing. We can make the jump and be the difference. Be the next big event in the universe.

What does a fish think.

Everyone is a mirror of and for everyone else. Every mirror shows a different side.

Addicts don't believe they are lying.

40 Euros for a fix. 4 days till Sunday.

I don't know. Just a guess.

Not long before it is broken.

I'm going to stop writing until. The next time.