Light from the torch illuminates the keyboard in the early hours…

The despair has struck…
Quiet voices in the night…

There has been a constant banging headache all day. As there has been for the past three days. Whenever I move my head pounds. Blood surges striking up the pain when I cough and earlier on in the night I was as sick as an inexperienced sailor, adrift on a schooner in the southern seas where the BIG waves are. They roll in the night. Not silent, just deadly.

I am currently stuck in some kind of nightmarish loop… The Gods laugh at me daily as my situation stays the same despite the changes wrought upon me by a power crazed fool with one testicle, a love of whiskey and a deep hatred of women… I wrote to stay relatively sane and able to function in the everyday doom that God wreaks upon us lost souls. And what do I get? A one way ticket to the scrapheap.

I make resolutions to change but lose interest as the futility of any project becomes clearer.

“I shall write a story” I think. I begin to write. My imagination throws out an image and I focus on it intensely. The image becomes as solid and real to me as the keyboard in front of me. I attempt to describe it and am always disappointed. The words cannot project my imaginations and the question of “What do I write next?” is gradually replaced by the more pertinent question “Why bother?”

Whatever I write will not change the world. This is easy to see. My name will not go down in history and Dear Reader, chances are neither will yours. No matter who you are.

A day will come when you are nought but a memory in the minds of lovers and loved ones. This will soon pass though and you, along with the billions of others, will be forgotten. You will be no more remembered than a second cousin twice removed on your great great grandmothers side is remembered by you yourself.

So what are you? What am I? Am I the creation of a loving god as it says in the bible? I doubt it very much. To all intents and purposes and without any evidence to the contrary, life is a punishment wreaked by an uninterested God. Fuck him and all he stands for.

God is the pimp to the many whores of life who tell you it will work out in the end. “We’re all here for a reason.” They cry, with disbelief clear in their eyes and the tone of a beaten person evident in their voices. “God makes us do his bidding so that we may rise above the level of dumb beasts.” They wail, hoping that you will swallow their bullshit and be a good upstanding member of their society and not burn down their churches upon a whim. Despite the fact that their churches should be the first to go.

And now in the early hours of the morning, when the quiet voices take the chance to make themselves heard, the headache is still there beating upon my brow like a hammer of the gods. Have I angered them? Is it divine retribution that causes the pain? Or is it merely a fact of life…

Where is the power of information when the information is lost through a lust power?
Forgotten.
Just like your Second cousin twice removed on your great great grandmothers side.
Just like you, dear reader.
And…
Just like me.