Netphoria Message Board

Go Back   Netphoria Message Board > General Boards > General Chat Message Board
Register Netphoria's Link Members List Mark Forums Read

Thread Tools Display Modes
Old 09-16-2020, 04:28 PM   #1
Run To Me
Minion of Satan
Run To Me's Avatar
Location: Where the frog spoils the leaf
Posts: 5,628
Default 4 October 2009

4 October 2009

The Romantic Hour came on tonight on Sunday night. Iíd finished the Executionerís Song and was sort of walking around at a loss, feeling pretty blue. Even dug out the pictures of Jessica.

Embarrassed. Music sort of overcame me. I guess I missed a St. Johnís Wort, too. Overall just wondering if all this artwork is enough. Can I even produce good artwork if Iím isolated like this? Do you need to get out and be stimulated, I mean, like go out and start falling in love? I guess I got a bit stirred up because I got a call from Sara A last night. She was drunk. She said sheís coming to Greenview this weekend to see some friend of hers play in a band. She was the last girl I kissed that I liked. Not that it was even any big thing. I donít actually think sheís right for me, but I did like kissing her. When I was out of my mind. That night I went all over campus stealing flowers and left them in my skull mug outside her door.

Thinking how my drinking will keep me from meeting anyone good if I donít change it. Although I did very good last week, thank you. Working on it. But how the last girl I dated started reading Codependent No More. I bet it helped her to dump me. I know it did. I donít understand why she stayed with me so long. She had a baby, for Heavenís Sake, and sheís dating this red-nosed, weight gaining, flunky drunk whose idea of a plan is believing thereís some market for his half-finished self-lacerating stories about how his Dad is the Seventh Prophet.

What in the hell was she thinking.

I want to think that I am doing something worthwhile. Worth. While. Maybe the answer is fucking church. I donít know. See, you can tell I donít think it is. Maybe itís reading the Book of Mormon again. Asking God to show me whoís being bad. So what the hell am I doing though? Recording songs that might be listened to once by my more longsuffering friends, and then tossed in a drawer? Writing fucking worthless fucking bullshit? What am I doing with my time and energy?

I guess I could go: it doesnít matter, itís a way to have fun that doesnít cost money, itís a way to be creative and expressive, and the object is not to be recognized or acclaimed and isnít recording something Iím proud of just a pleasant hobby, a thing to do after work, and work, be thankful for work?

Still. Yes. I am up against it. That special lack. I think that I replaced Jesus with having sex with women. Now I donít have Jesus and I donít have sex with women. What can I replace sex with women with? Or should I start trying harder to go back to having sex with women? Or try harder to go back to having Jesus? Just what did I actually have when I had Jesus? I was one pious lonely terrified boy. Was I? Or was I a happy little saint, wise beyond years, an inspiration to others? What was I? I know that jacking off made me feel quite guilty. Made me feel like a devil. I would cry and throw out all my material and promise not to do it again. I remember standing in the middle of East 64th Street wondering who was I. God, I loved to think about myself and who I might be, and all that shit. What a narcissist, a self-involved, selfish, terrified ego I was and so often still am.

At least I wrote a letter to my Grandmother tonight and I called my Mother yesterday. And I try to do nice things for my friends. I try to do the stuff, the action item stuff that was advocated by the madmen in the scriptures. I fear going back to it, becoming one of those madmen again. Maybe if I could just be allowed to use my talents. To somehow have God use my talents. Have it come from Him and through me. Or She and through me. Out from my fingers, eyeballs, etc., into the world. In art and in interaction. Watched the last episode of The Office and it made me cry when Tim kissed Dawn. When he wrote: ďNEVER GIVE UPĒ in her present, which was an oil painting set. That is my favorite TV show. Man, everything is making me cry tonight.

The reason I fear going back to it is because I know how serious it is. You start seeing things in the night. You start to feel bound up with something that is immensely, terrifyingly powerful. Something that makes you feel like it could pinch you out of existence, easy as popping a pimple off Its ass. Youíd just be yellow paste and oil and blood lying there on the tile. Get wiped up and thrown out. The Outer Darkness that I was either shown or it was just a particularly harrowing hypnagogic experience. That was the last approach, and I read it as saying if I continued to Party, I would be cut off. I would meet Hell. I would be grasped by ultimate sorrow, regret, fear. FEAR. God, it was terrifying. I was yanked out of my bed and pounced upon by a gathering darkness.

It began as a true life dream. As if I was awake. There was a party and then I was listening to my headphones alone in my bed. It was Modest Mouse. It was the song about ďWho would want to be such an asshole,Ē talking about, if God controls everything. The recording started sounding weird and I started feeling scared. The music was turning awful. I reached to turn on the lamp.
I could not turn it on.

Then I was seized upon by an invisible force and yanked bodily from the bed and onto the floor. I was stuck in the blankets and before I could get loose, the darkness of the room, the darkness of the entire Universe, all darkness there ever was, darker than the darkness Chen and I found in Connorís Cave on Saturday when we shut off our flashlights, it gathered, and it was sentient and malevolent and it pounced upon the center of my chest and I experienced a fleeting split second of what I can only describe as Hell.


For just that split second and then Iím awake in my bed with the shivers all running through my body, like a mild, full-body electric shock. I go to the mirror and look in the mirror. I had been studying many scriptures. I had been daring God to talk to me. That night, before going to bed, I had asked him to show me what was coming between us and swore I would change it.

See why I am afraid? I would rather think that life is not so utterly, terrifyingly serious. I would like to think that Hell does not exist. Quite honestly, I would like to continue to Party on Friday night. For a long time I analyzed that experience, and the best thing I could decide to do was just to not listen to that Modest Mouse song anymore. And try not to have that attitude, that of Isaac Brock in that song.

I used to think that all art, all paintings, all books, all music, anything that was not devoted to passing along Jesus Christ or that did not truly testify of Him, was a thing called More or Less, and that as you consumed more of this stuff (this More or Less stuff), it would eventually delude you into a false narrative of the world, a humanist narrative, one created by Satan and spread by his agents, and designed to blind the eye to what is really going on, which is a daily battle between opposing supernatural forces, and that we choose sides each moment.

Each moment a chance to lose your soul forever.

I donít want to live like that again, I can say for sure that I donít. I am more interested in human beings now. See when I was a kid, the scriptures told me over and over again what shit we were. How low. How awful. Hard hearted and quick to iniquity and enemies to God, all that. The Book of Mormon flat out specifically states that the Natural Man is an enemy to God.

I just donít want to believe that line anymore. I like what the Natural Man can do and accomplish. I think human beings are amazing in the variety of their art and industry. Is that the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil talking? Am I just gone, devilís got his cords around my neck. Those invisible cords you get when you enjoy a play or cry at a novel or admire human accomplishment without taking time to remember that weíre all just shit and pimples on His ass, so be sure to give Him some of that old glory he loves. Canít live without, just get on the floor and bow down and give him some of that good old worship He so desperately craves. If Heís so high up there, what the fuck does He give one shit whether I worship Him or not? Whether I even believe in Him? How could that possibly change how His day goes? Itís going to be pretty sweet either way, right? Am I just totally gone, is this the Devil himself talking through me? Am I damned?

Can you see why I like to be intoxicated sometimes? Right, because when I get bent, I am not preoccupied with any of the foregoing questions: I just feel high. Can you understand why that might be something I want to do from time to time? Thatís cowardly though. Thatís avoiding the problem. Iíve got to confront my problems right? I at least canít run from them as much as Iíve grown accustomed.

All this shit Iíve written tonight is awful. Iím sorry. I was having a great weekend, I really was. The light in the windows this morning was beautiful in the chilly apartment. I just get on a roll when I start wondering am I damned. Itís been a pretty big deal since I was maybe 12 or 13, so itís just this invincible habit. Hey God, hey man, buddy, can you just let me stop thinking about that and let me just try to love? Can I just try and love and think about other people and do what love actually is? I am going to do that, and if you want to send me to that Hell you showed me, well I guess that is your right, and I will accept it.

Iím sorry God. Iím just not sure which version of you I want to believe in, or associate with, and I donít want to get yanked out of bed again or have my thoughts screaming at me am I damned when Iím trying to ask some lady at work how was her stupid weekend.

Run To Me is offline
Reply With Quote
Old 09-16-2020, 08:08 PM   #2
Shallowed's Avatar
Posts: 17,692


Shallowed is offline
Reply With Quote
Old 09-16-2020, 08:12 PM   #3
Minion of Satan
buzzard's Avatar
Posts: 6,417

Originally Posted by Run To Me View Post
half-finished self-lacerating stories about how his Dad is the Seventh Prophet
Please tell me you're posting these.

buzzard is offline
Reply With Quote

Thread Tools
Display Modes

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

vB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is On

Forum Jump

Similar Threads
Thread Thread Starter Forum Replies Last Post
PAVEMENT COVERING 1978! dean_r_koontz Pumpkins Archive 28 04-01-2012 04:43 AM
9/11/01..........9/11/11 The Omega Concern General Chat Archive 70 09-30-2011 07:28 PM Forgotten Child Pumpkins Archive 163 10-28-2009 12:54 PM
Too bad JC Zeroman isn't in the US now... sickbadthing General Chat Archive 30 04-15-2009 09:58 PM
Best NES games PkPhuoko General Chat Archive 38 03-15-2006 01:40 AM

All times are GMT -4. The time now is 08:21 AM.

Smashing Pumpkins, Alternative Music
& General Discussion Message Board and Forums - Copyright © 1998-2020