End/Start

 

June Eight, Twenty Twenty Three.

Who will forget that day? 

Never Forget!

Some people believe these are the End Times.

Some believe we are living in the Start Times.

Some things are about to start and some things are going to change and many will be lost in this orange dystopian cloud of smoke in which we are living, asking for guidance from one of the artificial intelligences managing our lives.

A few weeks ago at one AM I get up to pee and go back to bed but then I start to worry about money, for god’s sake, and soon I feel useless and sick and like I am no longer any use to the Masters.

I’m slowly running out of money and I don’t know what to do and I don’t know if I can figure this out and I wish I could sleep.

Soon it is Five Four AM: I am in crisis, a crisis, right now, like everything is being sucked out of me and my empty carcass is going to be lying on the sidewalk until it is taken away.

Whether I live another 30 years or another 30 minutes I don’t know.

I felt like if I did finally doze off at last I might never wake up.

The Masters make the rules for the wise men and the fools, as the troubadour sang.

God bless this bowl of medicine.

Holy spirit, inspire me, and light my path

I remember The Three Questions:

What can I know?

What ought I to do?

What may I hope?

There is a lot of business to take care of — doctors’ appointments, financial assistance, or/and a job.

I make a TO DO list and feel more in control.

In the next few weeks I feel better even though I have done nothing on the TO DO List.

Those Things To Do are not The Thing that OUGHT to Be DONE.

The tree pollen really bothered me this year and at night I sometimes had trouble breathing. I would dream I was being smothered and wake up gasping. Then I would get up and flush out my nasal cavities with a neti pot, but then I couldn’t get back to sleep at like One AM, Two AM.

I heard that years ago when they decided to plant more trees in the city they only planted male trees, I don’t know why. Arbor misogyny? So now this boy’s club of trees and they are ejaculating into the air, pollinating my head. I’m being raped by trees I tell you, and I object.

In a way, the wildfire smoke that is here now was a relief from the tree pollen, but then I was told that the pollutants in the smoke coat the pollen and make it harder for the body to get rid of. You need to flush out your head twice a day with the neti pot. 

Twice a day?

What about food? What are you eating?

Today I had steamed broccoli and brown rice.

That’s good.

And a fried pork chop.

Well, did you at least make sure that Arnold the pig was killed properly?

I have no idea what that means. The meat is definitely dead. Do you mean were there witnesses? Do you think the other pigs would squeal?

One night I dream I see a dead relative, I won’t tell you who, at a party. It took a moment to recall that they were dead and that I was probably dreaming and then I knew I should talk to them.

“They will bait you,” the animated corpse tells me.

I realize they are only a projection of some aspect of myself because long ago in another dream someone told me that all persons in dreams are projections of some aspect of the dreamer. 

This makes me think of that paradox, like an inhabitant of Crete telling you that all Cretans are liars. A dream telling you it’s all a dream.

We certainly are living in End/Start times. 

The world won’t end for a while and the universe will continue for a while and whether it will ever end or whether it ever began is an unanswerable question as far as our mode of thinking is concerned. Not one of the things we can know.

The universe, as a thing in itself, does not exist, I was told.

Yes, don’t you know that yet?

Don’t gaslight me, man.