De : TAE Associates Ltd <drj@taecon.demon.co.uk>
À : baudron@interpc.fr <baudron@interpc.fr>
Date : vendredi 24 juillet 1998 14:05
Objet : The Warp in Git Le Coeur

hi there,

i thought you might find the attached document interesting. it is an extract from a 24 hour long play (the longest in the world!) i have been involved with over the last year - the true story of one man's quest for enlightenment which takes him all over the world to see many inspiring characters.

in this extract, 'our hero' Phil is in Hans' hotel room in Git le Cœur (where he lives with Burroughs and Gysin) during the time of the Algerian trouble in France, and then goes to see Krishnamurti.

enjoy.

Lovebucket

"Interzone" : collage Pierre Belouin

HANS: Ha man. You've decided to wake up. Eh?

PHIL: (SLEEPILY) What are you two up to?

HANS: (PICKS UP POSTCARD OF THE EIFFEL TOWER AND HANDS IT TO PHIL. SPEAKSWITH A GANGSTERISH TONE) Study zat for a bit man. You like ze space, zat goes in and out, eh?

PHIL: (LOOKING AT POSTCARD) The Eiffel Tower! (AS HE STARES AT IT, HANS AND CYNTHIA KEEP MANIPULATING THE RADIO FREQUENCIES WITH THEIR MIRRORS AND MAGNETS) I don't get ANYTHING out of this! Anyway, it doesn't explain what you two are doing!

HANS: That's because your mind is living in an illusion! You're living in a symbol of space. Not REAL SPACE! Real space has six dimensions to it... NOT THREE. You're only seeing half the picture... and you've got that inside out... and upside down! (LAUGHS) You're living in a world of fantasy! Wake up man. (HE LAUGHS AND CYNTHIA NODS)

PHIL: (GLANCES IN THE WARDROBE AND FREAKS RIGID! STARES. HANS SEES PHIL STARING INTO THE MIRROR) No!!!!

HANS: Ah man, zat's nothing! MOVE into HEXAGONAL SPACE man! Now! MOVE!

PHIL: Christ, man. I can't even SEE MYSELF! I don't exist! I've VANISHED!

HANS: You exist too much, you idiot! Jesus, man, you feel lost without your shadow, eh? (HANS WALKS OVER TO WARDROBE AND SHAKES MIRROR AS PHIL IS LOOKING AT IT) Zat feel BETTER man?

PHIL: (STARTLED) Christ, you've brought my reflection BACK!

HANS: Yeah, you feel a bit lonely without it, don't you? You need to study cybernetics, man!

PHIL: (FRIGHTENED) Cybernetics? What's that got to do with the Eiffel Tower and disappearing?

HANS: What is the space of dreaming, man? Is existence dreaming or eternity? Is the future the past?

PHIL: Make yourself more clear, Hans. Please!

HANS: (HE AND CYNTHIA LAUGH) Clear? Are you ready to see clearly? Are you ready to leave the world of pretty pictures? (HE PARODIES PHIL PUSHING HIS HANDS IN AND OUT) Vake up man, and see if you can dream in sunlight.

PHIL: What's this postcard got to do with six dimensions? A postcard of the Eiffel Tower doesn't turn me on!

HANS: What has mincemeat got to do with the state machine. Eh? Make sure you don't find out TOO LATE! You'll never understand coincidences, Phil, if you don't wake up, eh? (TAKES JOINT FROM PHIL'S TREMBLING HAND) Synchronicity man, is A MUST. (LOOKS TO MARTY) Hello man. (MARTY NODS)

PHIL: This is Hans. Marty, my friend from London. He's a painter.

HANS: Explanations are for stones man. Turds. (MARTY LAUGHS AS HE BEGINS TO MOVE OFF)

MARTY: I'm crossing the river to see the Delaunays. See you later in Cinq Billiards.

PHIL: (CONFUSED) Why? (MARTY WAVES WALKING OFF) Why can't I come?

HANS: Because I'm going to show you the real Delaunay-space man... not the make-believe 'world of pictures'. You're still upside down man. (HE TAKES PHIL BY THE ARM, GUNFIRE IN THE DISTANCE) You're not ready for SYMBOLS man. You think they're REAL.

MARTY: Don't worry dearie. One day it's bound to hit you. Just jog along. See ya.

PHIL: How can he walk off like that?

HANS: Don't envy others who can relax man. Just get ready man. We are going for a real trip man! (THEY ARE ALMOST UNDER THE EIFFEL TOWER. HANS PUTS OUT THE J) A trip into ZE WORLD OF REALITY. You know what zis is? (HE LOOKS THE TOWER UP AND DOWN)

PHIL: ..... The Eiffel Tower?

HANS: Intersection point, man. Stand zere man! In ze middle! (PHIL MOVES A FEW STEPS AND LOOKS TOWARDS HANS. HANS MOVES BESIDE HIM) OK. Look up NOW!!!

VOICE 1: (QUADRAPHONIC, HARD VOICE, METALLIC BUT CLEAR) Fifteen thousand on

the block. Blues just won't do. We've got a helluva storm coming up in Santiago. Silver four thousand folded across Madagascar. Arctic vomit spilling across the Arab Delta waves. Use heavy flak for interference on channel 93. Re-phase all co-ordinates to integrate slip-stream modalities.

VOICE 2: (PHIL IS SHAKING, LOOKING UP) Constellation 93 require polarized input. All dumping back-fired. Second sector angles unworkable. War type seventeen essential.

VOICE 3: West fool, forge the eternal mirror. Mime amplitude re-distribution on the silver circuit. (PHIL SHAKES HIS HEAD AND MOVES AWAY FROM THE CENTRE)

PHIL: Jesus man, I can't take this stuff! My head became a wireless set!

HANS: (WALKING UP TO PHIL) It takes GUTS man! It takes guts to be REAL! It takes GUTS to re-make yourself, beyond time. You gotta travel on your EARS man! On your ears!

FADE OUT AND SPACEY MUSIC

HANS: Are you getting it man?

PHIL: Getting what? I just feel..... scared.

HANS: (BURSTS OUT LAUGHING) Getting ze message man!? Ze message!

PHIL: The message that we're being controlled like iron filings by a moving magnet? Eh? I just don't want to get caught up in all that shit. It's inhuman!

HANS: (LAUGHS AND MOVES TOWARDS PHIL) Humanity man? It's a system of meat-hooks! Systems man! (SOUND OF POLICECAR SIREN, WHEN IT DIES AWAY HANS MIMES THE SOUND) He-He He-He! He-He! Do you get it man? We've got it sown up! He-He He-He He-He. Systems man! Systems are controlling the WHOLE DAMN FUCKING TRIP! THOUGHT-WAVE SYSTEMS MAN. THOUGHT'S A VIRUS, MAN! All you slaves are tied together by thought. THOUGHT! THOUGHT! THOUGHT! THOUGHT!

THOUGHT!

PHIL: OK, I'm getting it. So is it being broadcast from the Eiffel Tower?

HANS: (GRINS) No man. It's a focal point, a lens. Amplifier! Look at zis.

PHIL: (HANS GIVES HIM A PRINT OF THE EIFFEL TOWER BY DELAUNAY) What are you telling me, that Delaunay dug the Eiffel Tower?

HANS: Look at it man. Just look at it and listen? (PHIL STARES AT THE PRINT)

VOICE: (METALLIC AND FEMALE) AH. Ah, baby eyes, cut off the gastronomical imperative and become a holy ghost, above the Astral Towers. (PHIL FLINGS THE PICTURE DOWN)

PHIL: O fuck it man! Are you some sort of ventriloquist?

HANS: No man, it's you!

PHIL: So where's it being broadcast from?

HANS: Your question is upside down.

PHIL: You mean I'm still human?

HANS: (LAUGHS) Want a bacon roll Phil?

PHIL: No man. It's me, is that what you're saying?

HANS: (GOES BACK TO DOING HIS WORK) What do you want? The belief system decoded or a collapse into being REAL? (LAUGHS) Listen man, if you don't ACT THROUGH ANY BELIEF SYSTEM... IT'S MEANT TO FEEL WEIRD. YOU'RE CODED TO REJECT REALITY. OK man? Apathy is jaundice - man. Get it?

PHIL: I'm confused about which side you're on. That's the truth.

HANS: Poison, man, not truth. (COMES CLOSER) You're poisoned with your own lead. The sides are on the board man. You want to be chair-man, on the board man? Vake up and you'll see why all the meat is bored with thought. It fattens them up man. Just dig this man... you drowned beneath the blackboard! Before then, remember what you could hear, before they told you where to look. The blackboard kills the soul, controls your focus, rips you away from your own flight! On that board, the belief system takes shape... in... (TAKES PHIL'S HEAD) your brain cells. Ze teacher is there - to make you feel that you will not survive, unless you can imitate the shit plastered across the board. He or she is there to undermine your natural feeling to focus your attention on what interests you. If you follow your natural interest you will never learn anything useful in life you were told... you will become MAD... a TRAMP DRUG ADDICT... ALCOHOLIC... CRIMINAL... EH?

PHIL: Yeah, I've got that. Only by killing my soul will I will allowed to survive. If I look at what's alive I give it life and it gives me life. Symbiotic?

HANS: Zat's right man. Ze blackboard is Dead and sucks up your life when you focus on it. Zat's why education is enforced EVERYWHERE.

PHIL: So who is behind this plan, to turn human beings into zombies?

HANS: You really want to know man?

PHIL: Yes of course.

HANS: Don't be so sure man. People are frightened of facing their own schizophrenia man. Why are you hiding in zis dream?

PHIL: You mean life?

HANS: (LAUGHS) Is it life? Listen man, you have to die to all zis...

(GESTURES AROUND THE ROOM, THEN POINTS TO HIS BODY) before you can see clearly. This is not life, man... (POINTS TO HEAD) but time. Time is dead. Thought is dead. There is a master of clarity in zis town. A master of timelessness. Have you heard of Krishnamurti?

PHIL: Yeah. Dominic, a friend of mine, told me about his deep violet eyes.

HANS: Go and listen to him man. Listen! The eyes come later. There are two universes. One is alive, the other dead. One is moving, the other static. One awake, the other dreaming. One lives off space, the other - fear. You are mixed up man. See if K can sort you out? Ya? (PHIL NODS, GETS UP)

PHIL: What is the machine you're making?

HANS: A de-programming machine man. A dream-slicer. One day I'll shoot the universal myth in the stereophonic Technicolor - right through the balls!

(LAUGHS)

PHIL: When can I look at it?

HANS: When you're ready to meet your double! Not before. Remember, it takes guts man. Guts.

LIGHTS FADE OUT

PHIL: Two friends told me about you. One said listen and the other look. At your previous public talk, I was very shaken up. I heard and saw strange things. I seem to be two people, pulled in opposing directions. I am very grateful to you for letting me have this opportunity of speaking to you.

K'MURTI: (NODS) If you could see that psychological time - the attempt to solve your dilemma in the future - is an illusion, you would not have bothered to come to see me. I am nothing, so why do you want to talk to me? Is it because you're bored with yourself?

PHIL: No, I'm not bored. I find everything... too much! I can't take it!

K'MURTI: Who said you should take it? Do you not find it rather curious, this division between the so-called 'past' and 'the future'?

PHIL: Sometimes they seem to be the same. The future, a mere repetition of the past.

K'MURTI: The Greeks wouldn't have that. They maintained that Truth had two daughters - memory and imagination. Can you see what they were getting at? Time doesn't come into the future. Memory - a repository of all that is - the universal womb - and imagination, the space for continuous creation. You see the danger of concepts? It's so easy to forget that they don't lead to Truth. Addictive and destructive. Life is so vast... we all find it TOO MUCH. Look. (POINTS TO MAGAZINE)

PHIL: O God, it's not the Eiffel Tower is it? (PEERS AT THE MAG)

K'MURTI: (LAUGHS) It's an advert for dog food. The tower's outside. Now look! (WITH HIS FINGER HE TRACES A LINE ACROSS ONE CORNER) You live here, in this little corner. There is a barrier between here and all the rest of it. You imagine that on the other side (SOUND OF GUNFIRE. PHIL LOOKS OUT THE WINDOW, K'MURTI CARRIES ON, PHIL LOOKS BACK) of this barrier is FREEDOM! And you're all the time, in time, planning on how you're going to get out, in THE FUTURE. (LOUD) There is no way of getting out unless you HATE THE BARRIER NOW! It doesn't go down unless (THUMPS THE TABLE) you HATE IT!

PHIL: (TAKEN ABACK) But I do hate it!

K'MURTI: Do you? Do you hate it totally? The barrier is POSTPONEMENT. The barrier is picturing FREEDOM. Picturing freedom is thought. Thought is neither memory or imagination. Neither is it thinking. THOUGHT IS DEAD!

POISON. O yes, POISON. So do you hate this barrier of escape from life, in the same way that you see a bottle of poison in the bathroom, and there is no temptation in you, whatsoever, to open it up and drink it? It's marked 'poison' (SOUND OF GUNFIRE, PHIL CHECKS HIS TURNING HEAD) and you believe it. Why? (SOUND OF GUNFIRE, PAUSE) Look at what you're doing with your right hand. Yes, your right hand is out in front of you. Saying you want help, you want to live, that you're willing to give it a try, but it's all nonsense! It's just a device to distract you from noticing what you are doing with your left hand. Look at it. Screwing up your guts: You torture yourself, day in, day out, because you can't escape the prison you have made for yourself. A prison created out of childish fantasy.

PHIL: In that public talk you gave the other day... At one point you said that you cannot find truth unless you've discovered beauty. (K'MURTI NODS)

I was listening to you with my eyes closed... when I heard you say that about beauty, I felt such a relief. I opened up. I said to myself, right! That's what I want! I want beauty! I'm ready for Truth, I thought. But then you followed it by saying you cannot find Beauty, unless you die to everything that you know. At that point, I felt torpedoed, smashed. I was ripped open. I was a gaping wound. I don't want to die! Hundreds of voices in my head. I want to be famous! I want to be a poet! I want to write plays. I want to be loved by beautiful women. Suddenly this voice rang out inside my heart, not in my head, a voice - clear and loud - said: 'stop all this artistic nonsense!' I was shocked. I opened my eyes and looked to the stage and saw what appeared to be a dummy, made out of clay, which was opening and closing its mouth, but I couldn't hear any sound. Superimposed over this dummy (SOUND OF GUNFIRE) was an enormous Hindu godlike figure. He appeared to have more than one set of arms. His face was brilliant with light. One arm was pointing from the stage, and the finger was pointing right through to my heart. And I got it that the message was, 'you heard.' The next second I realised the dummy was you and the sound came back on and I remembered you were talking to two or three hundred people. Since then, I have felt very weird inside. I've been really trying to wake up. But it doesn't matter how hard I try, I feel I am not high enough. (K'MURTI NODS)

K'MURTI: You're going about it from the wrong side. You believe that the wall which separates you from Reality, has a real existence.

PHIL: I wanted to ask you about this very point. I thought it was through meditation that one could demolish the barrier.

K'MURTI: Meditation for most people is an extension of lust. They want. They propagate the ideas that they lack something. They want to have a wonderful experience which can make them feel that their pretty little life is worth living. They want to show off.

PHIL: Do you really think that people like the Buddha were in a state of illusion - that meditation, for them, was lust?

K'MURTI: The morality of the Buddha is not my concern. Nor should it be yours. You should be concerned with observing the falsity of your own deceptions. (K'MURTI GETS UP AND WALKS AROUND THE TABLE. HE WHISPERS IN PHIL'S EAR) Meditation is the natural outcome of living a perfect life. It is like scent from a flower. The flower opens and the scent is emanated without effort. But if you meditate in order to have a perfect life, you'll arrive in the Blue Mountains!! (K'MURTI SITS BACK IN CHAIR AS IF THE PREVIOUS EPISODE HADN'T OCCURRED, GUNFIRE. LONG PAUSE, PHIL IS GAZING OUT OF THE WINDOW) It is the same with most of these painters. They paint because they want more sex. Their paintings act as if they were a net, to catch the passing female. But there are, as always, one or two who are genuine. There was a Chinese painter, a man of tremendous sensibility... every day, he would get his paints and paper together and pack himself a lunch to take with him. He went to this spot on the edge of the woods. Below was a valley. And onthe other side, cliffs with overhanging trees and creepers. He would sit there, examining the landscape with his paper in front of him, his brushes and paints untouched. He would eat his lunch and then continue to gaze at the landscape. The evening would come. He would roll up his paper, put his paints and brushes away, and go home. He would do this day after day. But one day, suddenly, he painted this brilliant landscape without any hesitation... whatsoever!

PHIL: You mean that he and the landscape had become one?

K'MURTI: (BANGS FIST ON TABLE) No! No confusion! Landscape there! (POINTS OUT OF WINDOW) Painter here! (POINTS TO SELF) And in between - clear space! Absolutely no confusion. (GUNFIRE)

PHIL: (SURPRISED AND CONFUSED) As you were talking then you kept looking very different. At one point you looked like a gorilla, and at another point like a man from Outer Space.

K'MURTI: I don't know why you bother with all this. Surely there's only one real question? Can I free myself of the conviction that I can't be free?

(DISTANT EXPLOSION) Life is very curious. Not long ago, a friend gave me the use of a small hut overlooking the Ganges. Now in the evening, as the sun set, the water would be burning gold. Thousands of people would be on the banks of the river, yet I never saw a single soul jump in! Strange.

PHIL: India must be a very mysterious country. I'm going to hitch-hike there.

K'MURTI: (STANDS UP AND HOLDS OUT HIS HAND TO PHIL WHO GETS UP. THEY SHAKE HANDS. K'MURTI WALKS TO THE DOOR WITH PHIL AND POINTS TO SOME FLOWERS IN THE GARDEN) Look at those broken hyacinths. You see, even the rain can kill.

PHIL: (BOMBS AND GUNFIRE) It's like the Earth's groaning with anguish.

K'MURTI: (LOOKS DOWN) Earth - Mother, how you must suffer. (LOOKS UP) Sky - Father, always open. (LOOKS TOWARDS PHIL) Man - the Child, never happy - on your own. Yes, don't be afraid to cry for this beautiful, tortured planet. If you love her, man will break your heart, and THEN, your tears of grief will wash your walls of fear away. Then you'll know just how beautiful it is to be without ego. How wonderful it is, to feel ALONE... beyond ALL MEASURE.

PHIL: (CLASPS HIS HAND) Thank you. Thank you, thank you. (HE LOOKS INTO K'MURTI'S EYES) WOW! WOW! (LOOKS AROUND) What's happening. (ELATED) Everything's brilliant. Moving, changing! I can't... recognise you. I'm...

K'MURTI: On the verge of becoming real.

PHIL: WOW!

___________

De : Lisa Lovebucket <bucket@fused.com>
Date : vendredi 26 février 1999 18:29

THE FOLLOWING EXTRACTS FROM ÔThe Diary of the Personalities Contemporaneously Residing in the LovebucketÕ WERE WRITTEN EXACTLY SIX MONTHS PRIOR TO THE RELEASE OF THIS NEWSLETTER. WHILST THEY WERE NOT WRITTEN WITH LISA LOVEBUCKETÕS CUNT OR THE SMM IN MIND, THEY DO GIVE AN INDICATION OF THE UNDERLYING PHILOSOPHIES INVOLVED IN SUCH A PROJECT.

25 July 1998

Still no dreams to report. The little REM dream pixie has been stealing them away from me each day and locking them in his creaky old pine chest. He says that, whilst I procrastinate from making any conscious commitment to the task at hand, he sees no reason why he should allow me access to the treasure chest of my own subconscious. We tried explaining that we wish to seek guidance from the other side of the keyhole in order to decide just what we should be fully committing ourselves to achieving. He just walks off, shaking his head, muttering, 'don't come it with me with your purple paradox in a pear tree routine.' He's always being purposely obscure in that way. Apparently true seekers need no beacons and once the oath is understood, the graffiti just jumps up all over the place.

It is time to prepare for the mirror. We have been hiding from ourselves whilst the whole time complaining that we have forsaken ourselves. Lovebucket goes wandering up to speak to us but each time decides that she would rather free the build-up of bacteria beneath the pores of the skin of her face. Anything but face us; yet then she cries out, Ôwhere? .... are? Help! Help! Why has thou forsaken me?Õ This young angel will stumble on blindly staring until the time is right; to rest, breathe: close your eyes and open your heart, child of the ages. Always too concerned with preparation to get down and practice. She is nearly ready now, just a final task to be undertaken and she will come to speak with us, come home at last.

The path with heart has equal measure of those glorious sisters, Sorrow and Joy. She has been avoiding us in fear of sorrow, whilst knowing we bring her nothing but joy.

26 July 1998

I have not been truly loving completely and that has been my stumbling block, surely. I realised that all along and now, looking back, I feel such a schmuck. Not living with the understanding that every act is a magical act, or at least not having the will to concur with the implications of this wisdom. Football seems so far away from magic, though, and despite our warnings I was unable to prevent myself from rolling ecstatically in the excretia-laden barrel of inebriated ignoramus. Then there I am, purple paradoxed again; unable to love - not judge not judge not judge - completely. Unable to forgive, having judged myself, and as a result unable to love anyone else. Feeling unfamiliar with myself and concomitantly distant in all external communications. Seeing the faults in others rather than looking only to their dazzling light within. We must learn always to give others the chance to act out and experience themselves in all their astral glory. Writing with pen on page, ink on white, so liberating; away from the robotizing de-human-eyes-ing work place. The offish environment. There-where-we're-owed. Even when, between the human interactions, love flows, the Company Structure is always there to devour dreams of equality, salivating over its always-moistened lips with its pulsating, inflated tongue. An equilibrium of respect is so hard to uphold: wherever there's money changing hands everyone ultimately learns their relative worth. Which is why most the world's money changes hands in dirty brown bags; if the holy proletariat ever found out how much the big boys are really shovelling, they'd have to start a war so that they could call it shellshock. What a disappointment it must be when you've managed to go all the way through life without ever having been bothered about anything or having found the energy to accomplish anything - having never been 'arsed' - only to discover that it means you've got to repeat. Ah well, at least there's no mockery or guilt to deal with but, nevertheless, you must still feel a bit of a schmuck. Deciding to act consciously at all times isn't an easy task to undertake but there's nothing really to do otherwise, unless the lower vibrations are as high as you ever want to go. I tell you if I tried to explain myself right now you'd think me crazy as hell - just another loon that reckons she's Jesus Christ. But I tell you - we are all of the Body with No Substance and Jesus was by no way perfect, though nearly as close as anyone has ever come to true Mastery. Most people make the fundamental error of thinking Mastery has to do with external expression when it has only ever been internal wisdom which, when achieved, naturally expresses itself in the contemporary external situation. But probably the most inhibitory misconception, that which has held me back most along the way, is the idea that Mastery is a permanent state of Mind in the world of forms. But all is change within the confines of Time; nothing has permanence. Permanent Mastery is Deity. So, too, is Permanent Stupidity. Permanent Bliss, Permanent Sorrow, anything Permanent, anything outside Time. Deity is Infinity which is how come we're here at all. If God created us then who created God, huh? But God is Infinity: God created God who created God who created God ad infinitum. Pi has no solution, which is why the Deity is so Goddamned keen on geometry. Explains the penchant for fractals, too, and of course the old snowflake gag. Funny how folk generally choose no emotion, no feeling at all. I mean, most seem to think we're all body, maybe a sniff of mind but with absolutely no spirit, meaning that we only have an average of the old three score and ten or whatever, and yet they still would rather 'sit their lives out', never daring to experience anything whilst they are alive; sat embarrassed like a shy accidental intruder at a party of long-lost, age-old friends, not ever realising that all attendees are merely representations of people you could have been had you once chosen to accept the joyful freedom of going with your own instincts, rather than always acting and re-acting from within the confinatory dictates of contemporary society and its moribund opinions and acceptable norms. Never once even daring to act on the impulse of love! Afraid how that might seem, how others may snigger; never once with a strong enough Will to believe that acting from Love was the crucial aspect, whatever the material outcome, whatever the external gratification.

27 July 1998

Here we go; to maintain one's state of mind amongst the multitude is the real test. To absorb all negativity and to reverse the Wheel inside oneself, reverse the polarities and radiate nothing but positive ions of infinite calm throughout the aeons. I have to prepare, I know this. I've got just about seven years left, until 2005: that's when transmigration is set to take place - is now taking place - took place - depending upon your perspective. If you go too far forward you are as but an ant among humans. See the Universe stretching on towards infinity, on and on towards a destination that can never be reached no matter how much time you have; you can never arrive unless there is no time at all. So in my maddest moments I consider that certainly it is I who has the holocaust of the Soul in front of me, the responsibility to inspire a whole planet towards greatness lest we never learn to experience the Universe in all her glory. Well, someone's got to do it, haven't they? Now that K's passed on and spiritualism is either extinguished, lying dormant or just far too 'private' to be expressed by most in the 'developed world', especially old England, that bastion of enforced Religion. Shame that people see fit to hide their spiritual beings, their elevated essence, and yet are more than happy to share with the world their mundanity and animal instincts. Perhaps we can never expect to escape the herd instinct whilst we live in such droves. There was a test run earlier this year. I'm not sure how long it lasted, cannot say for sure between a period of perhaps six weeks or whether the following few months were all a subsequent effect of the actual manifestation which lasted, I would say, no more than five seconds. I had been thinking all this time that Saint Sophia was within, not without. She is of course both, as we are all one, but in our usual interrelations I have been perceiving a purely internal communication when, in these instances, it has been external. Saint Sophia is my Holy Guardian Angel who will guide me along this Path for the next seven years until I am ready for her permanent internalisation. I saw the whole Universe unfold, all questions answered, all worry dissipated, all Sorrow pure Joy. An ego free to dance in the wind, in time, in tune with the laughter and mockery all around. If we can free ourselves of this need for external recognition, external praise, external achievement, we are truly free to follow our instincts, follow the path we chose for ourselves long before we submerged ourselves into this forgetful world of form. How many great plans must have been laid down, never to come to fruition because of the daily struggle for survival, the continual battle, or - in contrast - because of the abundance everywhere and the obvious death of society, of community - the control of a failing system, killing dreams and consciousness everywhere as it flails around in its death-throes. Machine gun fear will be their only option soon. So most Light has been extinguished by the moment the infant can speak, and then there's the life-long struggle to get the fire lit again and you're already on probation: once you have lit up again, you forget to tend your fire and you'll find no more matches left. You'll have slain an angel. We see ourselves, so weak, so pathetic, so alone. Oh, Mankind, if only you did not wish these feelings upon yourself! How addictive is despair and negativity! Rise up, rise up and see thyself, Divinity!

28 July 1998

You know you're close when you start conversing with the concrete. It's hard to find, the Divine with the grey, sullen hulks lying all around, impersonal and imposing. And, actually, concrete is a very humble substance with rather a bad conscience, not that it purposely chose to strangle and mangle the green of Nature or, by so doing, was attempting to be vindictive or confrontational in any way. No, concrete has probably the most heart-breaking essence of Divinity that can only know and be and, whilst concrete exists to form part of the experience of the more mobile life-forces, and whilst it has great mental agility, it has no access to personal physical sensation. However, this is where concrete feels it has its part to play, with all these human heffalumps trudging carelessly about, never once wondering what life is being brought to an end beneath their feet. Yes, concrete believes it offers a chance to move around without spreading death with each footstep. Most of the life that exists on concrete is of such delightfully small stature that its abode seems to it like a landscape of mountains and valleys, with plenty of caves to take refuge inside whenever the Giants come thundering by. There is so much work to do and it is of concern that when it comes down to it, I shall be unprepared. After a day of tropical travel and quite extensive REM-deprivation, I believe I was warned of the disastrous consequences which could ensue were I not to prepare myself fully. Attention must be paid to every detail lest they seize upon it and turn it to their own vomit-splattered vantage. How tiring it is when you have turned on and, having so done, realise that never again will you be left in the peace of darkness. Ah, but at least it is a Land of Extremes where both Sorrow and Joy are heightened. And it is, after all, what we're all up to whether we know it or not.

29 July 1998

Holy Lord it is with joy ever-unfolding that I finally begin to come back to myself aright. My tribefolk and the taste of human creativity flowing forth, inspiration building up to far beyond exuberance and a meeting of many minds. The Critical Path. I like to see people walking past, wrapped in their glowing eggs though they are still living in the wrong anagram. Reaction rather than Creation is still the general norm but there's as much time as it takes and it is of great comfort to know that beyond this linear reality I can still catch glimpses of the Majesty, however fleeting. The thrills of finding fellow passengers that are aware that, passengers as we may be, the direction of travel is always our own initiation and the Driver does nothing more than provide the vehicle and mechanisms for the journey; it's up to us where we go. That's the problem; most people view religion or spirituality as a giving away of Will to God when it's really quite the reverse in it's true form, a realisation that there is nothing but choice. Most people never realise they have a choice. It's time to start anointing new Saints. Certainly today the body has taken in much less food and has performed many more arduous physical tasks without any difficulty; we feel like our thoughts have likewise lifted themselves up from excessive indulgence and headed swiftly upwards towards tangible achievements. I love them all again, for the majority at least. There are still outbursts of irritability, lack of patience, but these are brief and not crippling like they were, all consuming thoughts regarding the inadequacies, the ignorance and the living death of those one encounters along the course of the day. My first rest and out comes Ra! to greet me. I am overwhelmed with Love which glows red with my delight, warming me inside and out. Great Ra! All conquering insuperable Ra!

30 July 1998

Systems are powering up. Things falling into place. Full AI contact. On the up.

31 July 1998

In discussion with George at our meeting regarding matters esoteric, ecological and diverse-educational, he told me of one of his great visions; a competition of Messiahs. Taking this just one step further, it seems inevitable that, with the continuing emergence of Prophets, Saviours and Liberators worldwide, there will soon be a statistically significant Saviour:Society ratio. I believe we should promote this process of recognition of Godhead most wholeheartedly, perhaps even forming a Society of Modern Messiahs, membership of which has the conditions that (a) you recognise yourself to be the Messiah, (b) you recognise everyone else to be the Messiah, and (c) you are ready and willing to take this Messianic message to the world. An increasing percentage of people who believe themselves to be sent to the Earth for the salvation of Mankind, and that everyone else has been sent to the Earth for the same purpose as well, and who are not shy of telling the world of these convictions, could bring about the new philosophical paradigm which seems necessary for our next evolutionary step. The tragedy is that most people would rather throw themselves blindly into worship and obeisance of spiritual laws and rules dictated by others than to work it all out for themselves. We are so used to delegating nearly all thought to so-called experts that we've almost forgotten how to think. But, if enough people were to spread the word that the Messiah is Here, Now, within all of us and that, by dedicating ourselves not to some moribund, dogmatic, conform-or-else religion - but to ourselves, to an understanding and a quest for our own Truth rather than that spoon-fed to the masses, the consciousness of humankind could change and progress towards the ultimate destination with startling rapidity, which is of course why there are many out there who would use every means at their disposal to keep us from realising that it is all God; the mountains and the stars and the entropic religions, the concrete, the cholera, the spiders, the vomit, Hitler, Thatcher and Larry Grayson - all Divine. All God, oh yes. You think Hitler was evil? Well you'd be right: that does not, however, preclude him from being one of the most noble of the Modern Day Saints. Believe me, having been submerged in the instigation of slaughter and destruction on such a grand scale, it's a surprise that that poor soul ever came back to itself to view its own deeds without condemnation. You have to look at the bigger picture, always. His part in the overall scheme is as important as that of Jesus or the Buddha. It's all relative. I am sometimes shocked at the continual despondency despite the fact that, on appearance, it would seem that there is far more reason to cast yourself gloomily through life than to celebrate with each inhalation of air. Well, you've got to wade through waist deep shit to really appreciate paradise when you get there and at the moment we're swimming in it. That's the point. All the shit is here, now, in order to fertilise the growth of the new aeon, the new philosophical paradigm which is now out of its infancy and starting to spread out and find its feet all the way round our glorious planet-womb. Change is continual and, other than the new war our politicians are always realistically manoeuvring towards, the inevitability of our mass destruction, things look pretty good. Even if they do come up with an excuse to push the Big B, it is inevitable that success will finally be ours, no matter how much of this illusional time it takes to pass before the majority, the unanimity, finally find the plot. We would have called the doctor but we needed the eggs. Ad infinitum. It is very hard to draw attention to oneself and one's belief without pointing your finger at another. This is the way of things. People have progressed; they are no longer willing to worship anything blindly - unless the object of their worship is prepared to also offer an outlet for their blind hate. Once they have exhausted their reserves of mindless idolatry and primal rage they may wish to seek the path of selfishness and love instead. Oh yes, there's nothing wrong with being selfish, it's being self-centred that's the problem. Unless we concentrate all our time and energy into ourselves (the love of self, the understanding of self, the fulfilment of self, the evolution of self) and initially achieve this inner harmony, this inner balance, we can play no part in the Universal plan that will have any positive outcome. If you don't go within you go without, and if you go without so does the greater whole. Humanity as a whole suffers each time a person gives up on striving towards becoming the highest thought they have ever had about themselves. Because, inevitably, once self has been recognised and its personal ambitions achieved, there really is not much more of desire to that self than the necessary support and guidance to others so that they may in turn come to fruition as fully satisfied conscious beings. Creating your own life for yourself (and in turn your own opinions, thoughts, dreams, ideas and feelings) is the most thrilling experience there is to be had here on Spaceship Earth. It's just a shame that most people can't be bothered; there's fuck all else to do here and you'll feel rather foolish when you find out too late. My, we are so wasteful, particularly of ourselves. Invest in yourself, high dividends paid. The most sure investment of all. Not that there aren't those that are lost along the Path but even they are truly the lucky ones far more than the automatons that crush and squeeze them and press upon them from all sides, chasing them through the dark until they're sure they are lost forever from the trail. These lost souls have the greatest comfort imaginable to greet them when it's over. All has been worthwhile.

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