It involves mostly drugs and cell phones.

The cell phones are for where you spit the rush of ideas out into once the drugs hit.

The actual rituals are pretty unimportant, though. They're simply, after all, just the enzymes that catalyze a random idea through physicality to emotion, and through emotion to memory and belief.

So it was a cold, rainy, shitty day, here in the gutter. And all those courses I took at MIT about how to be a princess suddenly weren't any help to me now.

Really, only a planet-wide tsunami could save me. Wipe the world away and start fresh. Because, now, my fingerprints were on all the world's horrific tragedy -- and everything wrong anywhere had ultimately been signed off on by me. To apologize and make amends would take more lifetimes than I have -- and also I'd probably have to put on clothes, walk out the door, and get in a car -- how fucking bourgeois! -- so let's just wipe the world away and try again.

I held my breath and waited.

C'mon!

C'mon!

World?

World?

Nature?

C'mon, man. Wipe it all away!

Tsunami me to freedom!

I waited some more, but gradually grew despondent again when no tsunami appeared anywhere on the blue horizon.

All the courses I took at Harvard about how to do drugs and just kick back weren't of any help to me now.

I had, in fact, written my dissertation on just doing drugs and kicking back, and a few months after my degree was awarded to someone less psychotic, my dissertation appeared anyway in hardcover as the runaway bestseller, "Just Doing Drugs and Kicking Back: a Ph.D. Dissertation That Was Made Into a Best-selling Book That You Are Now Holding In Your Hands And Are Probably Just Fucking Stupid Enough To Buy!"

But that was then. What has lately done for me recently?

And that's when and why we started looking to higher authority, to timelessness, to a place beyond possibility, to far beyond hope.

When we got there, we were introduced around and quickly discerned that there were just 2 kinds of people in this world.

One kind of person meant well but got it wrong, causing much pain and misery.

The other kind of person just wanted to fuck everybody over and take everything, but also got it wrong which, however, by the perversion of chance, wound up eliminating much pain and suffering, and bringing much joy and hope.

But this meant that if you were honest about NOT being a scumbag, you were doomed to failure.

And if you were dishonest about BEING a scumbag, you were doomed to failure, too.

And, so, only totally honest scumbags and totally duplicitous saints could get anywhere in this fucking world.

Leaving all guidance counselors, from the most well-meaning to the most intentionally slimiest, with no option but to advise their counselees that "if you're any good, this piece of shit world doesn't deserve you -- so just drop out and piss on it.

"And if you're no good at all, this piece of shit world is made up entirely of people like you and already has more than it knows what to do with -- so just drop out and piss on it."

And all the courses I took at the US Navel Academy in Annapolis Maryland about how to get really really deep into navel analysis, weren't any help at all to me now.

permanent link to this article