Watching the sun settle down into the sea, I munch and expect that any minute now, something will come flying out of the sky. I absorb into the excellence and wonder about the plant nation, the plant people. The dog licks my toes. I swallow the serpent's tail. I know Death because it is in me, and I am Life because I am in it. The darkness cannot find itself, and its tail spirals into the ether, unswallowed. The darkness weeps and cries for its self, but the only answer is the soft lap of waves against the sand whispering to itself on the shore.
Sometimes I build worlds; other times, I roll boulders from cliffs to smash them to shrapnel, ostensibly looking for fossils inside. Sometimes I create things out of destruction. Sometimes I destroy what I have created. And then, whether I ask for it or not, other worlds reach out and grab me, and show me how science and spirit are one and the same. Books whisper power to me. I look through a microscope at a drop of stolen blood, and I see the Old Man laughing at me, around a mouthful of cactus. He wants me to join him. I am a little creator-destroyer; who am I to question the Paradox-Teacher? I ate the cactus, and the mushroom, and ten thousand roots and leaves and flowers. And I have gone into my chrysalis, deep in metamorphosis, soon to emerge myself.
Don't ask if you can add me, or whatnot. What you do is up to you. Just don't mistake me for a healthy person, or assume I'm unaware of the fact that I have problems. If your plan is to march in and try to fix me, you can march yourself right back the other way and save us both the bullshit.
I am keeping this journal to vent. To help *prevent* myself from doing anything ethically unacceptable. If this option is taken away from me, I will have literally no choice but to start acting out. I can't write by hand. My hands cramp up, fall apart. It's physically beyond me.
Think about catharsis before you flip out over what someone writes in what's, ostensibly, their own safe private corner of the Web.
I am the brain some say insane blood is the rain that's what life's about ...
I have repeatedly said that in my opinion the idea of a personal God is a childlike one. You may call me an agnostic, but I do not share the crusading spirit of the professional atheist whose fervor is mostly due to a painful act of liberation from the fetters of religious indoctrination received in youth. I prefer an attitude of humility corresponding to the weakness of our intellectual understanding of nature and of our own being.
- Albert Einstein to Guy H. Raner Jr., Sept. 28, 1949, quoted by Michael R. Gilmore in Skeptic magazine, Vol. 5, No. 2