The Secret To Living In The Rush

He Was No More, Freed From Being, Entering Into Nowhere Without Even Knowing It. Just As He'd Feared From The Start.

We Leave A Stain, We Leave A Trail, We Leave Our Imprint. Impurity, Cruelty, Abuse, Error, Excrement, Semen - There’s No Other Way To Be Here. Nothing To Do With Disobedience. Nothing To Do With Grace Or Salvation Or Redemption. It’s In Everyone. Indwelling. Inherent. Defining. The Stain That Is There Before Its Mark.

All I Can Tell You With Certainty Is That I, For One, Have No Self, And That I Am Unwilling Or Unable To Perpetrate Upon Myself The Joke Of A Self. What I Have Instead Is A Variety Of Impersonations I Can Do, And Not Only Of Myself - A Troupe Of Players That I Have Internalised, A Permanent Company Of Actors That I Can Call Upon When A Self Is Required. I Am A Theater And Nothing More Than A Theater.

Obviously The Facts Are Never Just Coming At You But Are Incorporated By An Imagination That Is Formed By Your Previous Experience. Memories Of The Past Are Not Memories Of Facts But Memories Of Your Imaginings Of The Facts.

Let's Hope The First Comes First.