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Stay in Formatioon
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Two

CEE

    Well, that’s it, from here. Sure enough, I was right: we didn’t become friends. That’s fine. I told you that, from the beginning. You could call it a self-fulfilling prophecy, but if you do, you haven’t absorbed jackshit, from reading me. A patented home psychoanalysis for every hiccup of behavior is a part of the software Others install on one another. It’s a kind of “Help” you click on, or a troubleshooting guide, a concordance for your personal brain Bible. Except, like Help or troubleshooting or a concordance, what you’re looking for, is rarely there. It’s merely handy, to throw reaction and aphorisms like popcorn, when dealing with That Outside The Self...and, see? Once again, the things I tell you aren’t so very different from what Others will admit to. Most of them. Doors shut and bolted. Cell, turned off. And they’ll whisper it, as though the Gestapo was in the very walls. Some will look at you with hurt, say the word “please”, in a drama that used to touch the soul, back when people had them. For there does exist a reason why you must sing the company song, sign the petition, mow your lawn, call down, “up” and trash, “litter”, take your meds and finish your sandwich, we don’t believe in wasting food/they’re starving in China. The reason isn’t deprivation of status, not contempt of your fellows, not the reality of being unloved. This reason ends bullseye in Self, but like the music, goes down and around, from sine to cosine and off on tangents. Here it is, said well, supplied us by William B. Davis as the Cigarette Smoking Man, from the 2nd Season of The X-Files:
    If people were to know of the things I know, it would all fall apart.”

    Or, as CEE has written: “If I have the right idea, Progress stops tomorrow, and the sewers back up.”
    Or, as CEE has written: “After all, if my life has no meaning, Theirs’ don’t, either, most of the planet is wrong, and Chaos reigns. So, we must have our comforting little givens, mustn’t we?”
    That’s the bit. That’s the “illusion” the current black of glove refer to, the “mind control” if you wanta go that far (and not shower and prefer Picard). It has nothing to do with the individual and everything to do with the herd. If Society is a machine, that’s its guts. That’s the Ant Community I saw, in my kindergarten doorway. And, it is why I’ve been forever alone, as I am only ever Me. I have no preordained ‘place’ in this world. The herd, largely ignorant, has done Zero for me; I certainly don’t owe them a goddammed thing. I refuse, point blank, to participate in a world of middling convictions. Though I am not nor can dimly perceive the addictive personality, I join hands with those pre-12 Step, on one, vital tenet: It’s Eden or Nothing. As the Web has long since destroyed my magical gift of selfdelusion, the Answer to the Riddle of No Answer is, hence and therefore, “Nothing.” The reason is Man, himself. This is intrinsic, it is essence, and essential change is impossible. Which, is why compromise is capitulation. Oooo, the goodies we could get into from there!...but...I’ve gotta go. ‘Gotta be at the
River Styx in another heartbeat. Please try and remember the things I’ve written. It’ll give me something to hope on, in a place where there’s no hope at all.
    No one ever looks into the mirror and speaks a total truth. I say this as Diogenes. You may mint it as finest silver ingots, nonfriends: There Is No Honest Man. If one ever turns up, I’ll be certain to crack hobnails and give the salute. My theory, is that every pure morality, is totalitarian in nature. I’m all for suffering, as long as I get to watch Others suffer. I didn’t always feel this way.
     Congratulations.—CEE, 1/31/14



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