It's like this stream of consciousness, that maybe all professional writers experience as cynical as they might think their commercial three-act wares are, poured out of me and entry after entry in the Free Planet section of this blog scrawled forth, lifted from the ether.
I came to a conclusion tonight, solely based on the fact that "I don't believe in that stuff", that I seriously might be Channeling the whole Free Planet message. And I don't like the idea that my thoughts aren't my own, let alone that I might be 'dreaming for those who can't'. I'm not at all spiritual or mystical or psychic or religious in any way, shape or form. Mine is a clockwork world of cogs and gears and grease and 'work units'. Nothing more, nothing less. We're here, and we are slaves to cleverer men. That's all.
However, "The Free Planet message came to me as if on some golden platter of turds," and I ran with it in multiple directions maybe even with my eyes closed not sure of where the sh*t would land were I to trip. And I can't tell if I've already tripped. I may (right now) be 'in the act' of tripping towards the marble floor and the facepalm of turd on reality might be about to splat. And I wouldn't know it. Or it may never happen - I may run forever and ever, or until I die, spouting my own Free Planet shit and not really seeing any reason for my mountingly obsessive act. My penance (maybe) for a life of waste and vacillation.
I put my FAITH in a Free Planet, I really did. And I thought YOU THE PEOPLE would see the sense of it too. But the journey has (thus far) remained FRUITLESS. And it's such a stupid idea, a Free Planet. That's not how this world works, I summise in my saner moments.
I'm lost, I truly am.