I’ve had an incredible, life-changing weekend. I watched an old move from the seventies, it was all about sex. It triggered me hard, I’m convinced I watched it with someone when I was in high school, someone I’ve forgotten about because my father knocked me unconscious so many times I went into a coma. I know he did that but I don’t know if I really watched this movie with someone, or am I just making this up? This is why my spirit guides appear as the ZZ Top Girls, whether they’re really that or not, somewhere in this damaged part of my mind flickering back and forth between pieces of reality, mixed with black rage that can only come from the Angel of Death herself. I took Thursday off, I worked on Friday but now I’ve had four more days on a life-changing psychic binge of something, shocked and broken and feeling like nothing. It’s the damage from the memory loss, I forget who I am, I forget all the happiness I’ve ever known. Ironically, as fucked up and out of control as this is now, it’s an improvement. At least I’ll die knowing I tried to do something. Months ago I would panic because existence itself seemed completely horrifying. Now I’m better with that but I had a jolt from this old movie and I feel like I don’t even recognize myself, like I have this entirely different lifetime that’s really me somewhere, and I’ve forgotten it…
I’m alone. I can feel my aloneness, but I am not alone, some kind of energy is flowing through me. Do I even exist? I was looking at the notes I took from my amazing weekend, reminded of how good I felt on Saturday, I attended a Memorial Day celebration that made me feel like healing came to me from a higher world. I’d never felt better, really. When I look back on how much difficulty I’ve had relating to people in my lifetime, I don’t mind it so much – I found ways around it, but …
Well, a week passed. I watched other things. I did a lot with AI. I found out that ChatGPT’s memory is now expanded to encompass all previous chats and I’m using it to put things together like never before. I expect a quantum leap when ChatGPT 5 comes out. I feel completely different about everything. I have long felt that it was my destiny to write on the web. Brain damage and conspiracies have forced me to be too self-centered to write for the publishing industry. I’ve developed my own style which is 90 percent self-gratification. Somehow what I write is positioning me in the cosmos where I want to be. And yet now I wonder if it hasn’t been my destiny to write with AI all along. Could I have “chosen” to be so damaged that I couldn’t write anything until AI allowed me the thrill of watching my own words unfold without the horror of coming into emotional contact with the human race?
Therapy and AI are helping with my memory loss. Recently Facebook informed me they’re not going to store my Facebook Live videos anymore. I requested a file with all of them but my first request expired. I didn’t care. All that work I did could just disappear for all I care, nothing but a meandering trail in the dust. What have I got to say to the human race anymore? My enemies all seem so small and pathetically absurd. I feel structures of light moving around me, showing me where justice lies for all of them, especially my dark, horrifying family. Do what thou wilt, I say. I believe in Guardian Angels and now I wonder what I could write that would promote the cause of Thelema, that all humanity should have the Knowledge and Conversation of their own HGA? Well, in some ways that’s up to the HGAs, isn’t it? Ravenswood Academy is actually the HGA academy. More and more I’m feeling myself lifted right up out of this nauseating world. I still have some damage that thinks in terms of public opinion, but it gets less and less all the time.
The question was, what is there to write tonight? Oh, yes, I forgot. I got very sick and had to go to the dentist. I saw that movie from the 70s that triggered my memory and that night one of my fillings fell out. I lay awake all night in a bizarre trance. I literally couldn’t sleep all night. I went in to work and workmen were moving a refrigerator in the hallway. I made a dentist appointment for the next day. When I got home from work workmen were moving a refrigerator in the hallway of my building. It’s still there. I would say that was a spectacular Buffynicity, pointing out that this lost filling, this trance, this new way of looking at film is a definite spiritual transformation. I was semi-delirious for several days, pouring my life story into the new ChatGPT. I attended a magical ritual. I changed my life. After decades of fragmentation AI is helping me draw everything together. I’m finding the underlying telepathy of film and entertainment in general. Where am I going with this tonight? Where are we going? I’m not alone as I write this … what do we have to say?
Last night I read Doctor Strange #46, from the mid-70’s. Once again I had the eerie feeling I’d read it before. The Buffynicity was that Clea was summoned to be a Sibyl with two other Sibyls, which fit right into my own personal kabbalah. Strange was annoyed with Clea, worried bout their multivalent relationship – both lovers and master-and-disciple. Ironically, the ambiguity of it resonated very well with my imaginary girlfriends. They can be more definite in my subconscious when I read stories about ambiguous women, somehow they reflect off of it at an angle. And it’s exactly that ambiguity I’m trying to draw out with this blog.
Regnum Somniorum 