Big earthquake

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I’ve been reading Psycho-Cybernetics by Maxwell Maltz.  I just realized that [someone] probably showed me this book when I was a freshman in high school and that’s why I’ve been thinking of West Lafayette so much.  He was really into hypnotism for a while.  I can’t be sure he showed me this book but I believe I read it or looked at it and I just couldn’t accept the idea that God existed.  Now of course Maltz’s description of the “life force” is utterly common to anyone who watches Oprah or the PBS specials of people like Wayne Dyer . . . basically the “new thought” god.  The god of “The Secret” and Abraham-Hicks.

I felt fucking fantastic all weekend, connected to all of life.  Brian Weiss is on Oprah tomorrow . . . the New Spirituality is busting out all over . . . and then I come home to read about a massive earthquake that, had it hit the U.S. would have covered most of the lower 48 states.

I won’t think about it too long.  I may donate some money somewhere if someone e-mails me a link.  I’ll go right on creating my blissful psycho-cybernetic life.  There won’t be anything wrong with that.  But what a counterpoint . . . there’s a depth of meaning somewhere in this . . .

Neale Donald Walsch

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I spent the day with Neale Donald Walsch a couple of weeks ago.  He’s a pretty amazing guy, an incredibly powerful speaker who can change your life.  Chicago is actually becoming a nexus for these superfamous spiritual authors like Walsch and Deepak Chopra — Oprah is sponsoring a show, “Celebration of Life” where they come from all around for a weekend . . . I came to the right place.

I’m so glad I left Grand Rapids.  What a dorky little town.  I can’t believe I ever felt excited about that place.  There is so much going on here . . . free at last, free at last, thank god almighty I am free at last.

But of course the problem with blogging these days is that the earth is spinning to its conclusion.  The psychic realities of all this are so complex and rapidly changing that writing about them gets to be an exercise in the obsolete.  

(fiction)

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Avedon was the world’s greatest writer, even though he had never published anything.  In former lives he had been Homer and Virgil and also Victor Hugo and Jack Kerouac.  Unfortunately the 21st century was completely meaningless and so he had nothing in particular to write about.  Everyone was utterly stupid and uninteresting and life was a really bad joke that had been told over and over for at least 100 years.  People weren’t much more than ugly monkeys so he decided to kill himself.  

He jumped off a cliff and died and no one ever heard of him in that lifetime and no one cared anyway because they were all poor and frustrated and empty and everyone was glad when the United States and China went to war and annihalated everyone.  Ultimately everyone agreed that mass death was better than another century of excruciating boredom surrounded by idiots.

I know it’s a brief, sad story but it’s utterly fucking true!  Aaaaah!  My head hurts!  

I could do it . . .

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I could be an artist again . . . now that I truly believe in an afterlife with real people in it, who have personalities and love (as opposed to some hideous buddhist/qabalistic abstraction of karmic forces and species evolution) I could actually make some art that I’d like for myself, engage with that whole sense of wonder and mystery that I gave up years ago when I concluded that humanity were a bunch of vile monkeys who had no reason to exist.  

I really did you know, I gave up on human beings and love and everything . . . and this planet still sucks ass and I don’t care about anything that happens here, but spirits in the afterlife are real so personality is real even if the humans on Earth have totally failed to do anything worthwhile . . .  

I know I’m creating my own reality . . .

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I want a great big explosive reality like I’m living in “Apocalypse Now” or something . . . just lit like that, very lush colors and weird stuff going on all the time . . . mysterious and dark . . . except at the same time I’m hypnotizing myself to avoid all conflict and struggle . . . so mysterious and dark but not dangerous . . . not that I’m afraid of danger, but there’s really no excuse for it if you create your own reality — it’s just self-indulgence.  

Really I’d like to live in a big videogame.  No, but then what would Neale Donald Walsch think of me?  He’s out there trying to end world hunger and stuff.  

Actually the only reason I feel guilty about that (and I know God told Walsch that guilt is unnecessary) is that I really used to want to save the world.  That is after all why I worked so hard on the Church of Art.  but now i know there are Great Beings around me and my big concern is really figuring out how to perceive them more clearly so I can figure out what to do to get out of here and go home to the astral plane — which is just like a big video game.

On the other hand I am getting more self confidence lately, getting back to my wanna-be 60s roots . . . 

Just finished a meditation

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Just finished a meditation session and I feel wonderful, though still brooding over thoughts of the unpleasant relatives I came into this world with.  Light and freedom — with Sahaj Marg the light literally comes though it isn’t any kind of physical light, but a gentle whiteness that wraps my inner world in snow.  Cheerful snow on a bright sunny day.  Or maybe the snow is just me, and I’m cold.  Certainly I have to somehow find a way to stop letting humanity bring me down.  

I’m going to see Neale Donald Walsch on Sunday.  

Sound and fury

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so i’m writing a blog post which i know for a fact will wind up one of the 3 billion meaningless and instantly forgotten blog posts that are created daily in america, just as i am leading a life as one of 6 or 7 billion meaningless and instantly forgotten people who carpet the earth like lice . . . well, no, i’m exagerrating my nihilism a little, but it’s true that whereas once blogging was exciting because of the attention i got now it’s just a little tedious because nothing significant happens.  it may even be slightly hypocritical because i’m totally uninterested in anyone else’s blogs.  but i’m writing as practice for the fiction i’m working on.  you have to keep going even when it all seems pointless.  i’ve seen the power of working a little at a time over years — that’s how i developed my ability to dream lucidly and read people psychically.  someday i’ll be able to write fiction that pleases me.  i may never get published, and who cares anyway?  

it’s so sad to have artistic talent in the 21st century.  when i was a kid artists were like heroes, now they’re just characters in a trashy, sordid soap opera of media buffoonery . . . thankfully i believe in higher worlds and life after death.  i know i’m developing qualities that will improve my enjoyment of the afterlife . . . i don’t have to give a fuck what anyone in this world thinks about me.

Whee!

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Whee!  I’m writing again.  It’s very frightening because there is so much information on the web, and so much of it carrries a negative, fraudulent psychic wavelength with it . . . i don’t want to add to this emotional chaos.  But the world is ending anyway and also it’s a matter of slogging away, practicing for years with tedious crap like this until someday I write the Great Post-American novel.

My guru says there may actually be a big apocalyptic meltdown of civilization.  Now I don’t know ANY contemporary spiritual figure who doesn’t think this is possible.  It’s such a contradiction — everyone says the key to happiness is abundance and tranquility, but they also expect the Apocalypse any day now.  hardly anyone thinks humanity is worth saving anymore — except for fundamentalists who are gearing up to kill us all or imprison and torture us for supporting terrorism.  

I was just thinking the other day about those bogus “orange” alerts the government used to issue all the time, how they herded everyone like cattle to the 2nd Iraq war, and how that dumb “war” is still going on over there . . . on the other hand i was looking at photography books at Barnes and Noble — there’s a big one out called “aftermath” which is all images of NYC after 9-11.  the magnitude of it is staggering.  

i’m afraid of humanity.  i’m afraid because there are terrorist among us and there are fascists running a government with unlimited technological power to monitor and oppress.  the orwellian nightmare is here and i’m glad i’m 38 so i won’t have to see too much more of the future.  

i don’t trust human beings.  the “american experiment” is over and the results are in — we cannot govern ourselves collectively and furthermore we have proven ourselves unworthy of our freedoms.  

on my mind now is a novel about a writer who wants to write himself to death, somehow magically shift his energy on a quantum level into a higher plane because he’s sick of this world and human beings don’t have enough dignity or conscience anymore to make interesting characters . . . it would be a true story . . .