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God Complex

God started talking to me years ago. At first, I was confused, because he sounded just like me. Then, after a little while – after getting used to hearing things that didn’t come from me, myself – it changed. God started to use voices and inflection and lots of mixed metaphors and scrambled sentences. [God is the collective subconscious of The Universe(TM). That means that he is all people at once, all perspectives at once, everything all at once. His thoughts collide, creating chaotic communication that is very often confusing at best. However, after a while, Sansara decodes it all into coherency.]

I play SHIVA, an audio compilation of at least ten different YouTube videos. There are wind chimes, birds chirping, waves lapping, the om mantra, and much more than even that, overlapping and fading in and out. The longer I listen, the better I feel.

I recall when I made this with God a few months ago. Nick was sitting around telling me how stupid I was, essentially, while God and I played around as if nothing mattered. About two days later, I hit play on SHIVA and suddenly all goes quiet. “That’s insane! That is something that takes people years to learn!” he screamed at me. Apparently, happy audio accidents are impossible. [I’d say merely improbable…] Alas, the obvious answer is there: God did it through me, duh.

It’s not the only audio we made… we made a Lakshmi video (I prefer the spelling with an X but I’m pretty sure white people don’t know how to pronounce that.) We made a Ganesh audio, and another one playfully called Appetor (as in a made-up god of good appetites.)

I’m listening to them all right now, hoping to drive those entities in my head who just won’t quit completely insane.

SHIVA is a tricky track, you see. God says it’ll either cure or kill whoever hears it. I sit here and wonder if that might be almost the same thing in some cases, especially since he uses death as a metaphor for when a person finds a reason to change completely the essence of their personality.

In my daydreams, I see the man I’ve been ogling consistently. We sit by firelight and stare at each other meaningfully. I’m not prone to these flights of fancy, so I wonder if it’s Nick trying to sabotage me again. He loves to milk my heartaches in full, I’ll tell you. I can remember the time he thought about visiting me over and over again, fantasizing about proposing to me. Then God tells me today he has a fucking wife the whole time. No wonder God threw him the fuck away!

What a bastard! What kind of wanker doesn’t tell you they got married in 2018?! What kind of asshole doesn’t tell you how their wife is doing whenever you speak to them? The kind on the prowl, ladies! Check their IMs! Check their phones for texts! Especially right now, during Everyone’s Miserable Because Cupid Gave Up On Mankind(TM) season. LOOK IN THEIR GODDAMN PHONES! If they won’t let you have their phone, DUMP THEM. If they won’t let you look at their IMs, DUMP THEM. If you have the nagging suspicion they’re stepping out on you, DUMP THEM. Make them beg you to take them back. If they don’t, you were right. Make sure they beg all the way through Valentine’s day and a few more days after that, might I add, so it’s not just about getting laid for “that special day.”

I don’t give a fuck if your S.O. is in the CIA, the FBI, or any “sensitive” area of the fucking government. Start trusting S.O.s, you stupid bastards. Make them get on payroll, too, and keep their fucking mouth shut. Encourage inter-agency dating. In fact, if the FBI and CIA got into bed together more often, y’all might actually have a fucking clue as to what’s going on around here. Use security clearance status and make yourselves a datin’ app, boys and girls. I know you can do it.

</grumpy AF>

If your livelihood depends on keeping secrets from your man or woman, you are married to your fucking job. Divorce them and let them find someone who can actually pay attention to them and communicate like a real human being. The End!

If your man or woman won’t tell you something and you think there’s foul play, just exit the drama and tension and anxiety. Put them down. Set them aside. Go work on your solo hobbies, like strumming your guitar or playing your Atari or building a video game from scratch. Build that MMO, build a web site, build a Lego set, create an RPG… Doesn’t matter. Do it with your same-sex friends and blow off steam if it’s a group project. Do what you love to do that makes you feel like you’re doing awesome in life and ignore that dumb bitch. It’ll get under their skin eventually, or you’ll just score some more awesome me time. Win/win, if you ask me!

Leave the options for romancing other people out until they leave and you give yourself time to get over them, please. Nobody wants to date a broken record talking about their divorce non-stop, nobody even wants to socialize with that kind of drama. Write it out in a diary or journal, take it to a lawyer and see if they can do anything for you. Chances are if you’re fully pissed the fuck off in some way, they did something illegal you can nail them for. You’ll feel better once justice is yours, I promise.

If nothing else, get a therapist. Treat them like someone you need to scare off fast by telling them all your deepest, darkest moments and secrets up front. Watch them validate you because you have emotions, too, rather than tell you how you were wrong. Watch them spin up a new perspective on life. Unless, of course, you’re a serial killer… then don’t waste their time. You’re broken beyond repair and should euthanize yourself at your earliest convenience. Perhaps you’re just a sort of benign psychopath that has no penchant for bloodletting, instead. You’re still a waste of time. As are the narcissists, who are at the shallower end of the same gene pool.

You know what people want to hear in a conversation? I can give you a fucking formula. If you make shit up, just know most people have a bullshit radar and you’re gonna fuck yourself in the ass by lying too much, or even at all, depending on how healthy the target is. Yeah, that’s right, if you’re lying, you’re targeting a poor soul for your insanity. The lies are your fault, but you’ll find every opportunity to blame them for “being crazy,” you gaslighting motherfucker.

Didn’t I tell you the whole world is angry and God is the collective consciousness of the world? Now you know and knowing is half the battle! [GI JOE!]


Man: Hello, m’lady. How are you this evening? <— GREETING, ASK FOR INFORMATION.

Woman: I am well, how about yourself? <— ANSWER, ASK FOR INFORMATION.

Man: I can’t complain now that I’m talking to you. <— AFFIRMATION OF VALUE.

Woman: (begins to feel valued)

Man: So what are you up to tonight? <— ASK FOR INFORMATION

Woman: Just catching up on chores after a hectic day. How about you, Joe? <— GIVES INFORMATION WITH A HOOK, ASKS FOR INFORMATION.


MAN: I’m kind of vegetating, I’m tired today. Why was your day so hectic? Are there many chores to catch up on? <— DISPLAYS INTEREST, ASKS FOR INFO.

WOMAN: Oh, I had to run my mother to the grocery store. She felt like four rolls of toilet paper constituted as an emergency on her part, probably because she can’t drive… but she walks so slowly it took twice as long as if I went by myself. And then, of all things, I accidentally paid for it all without thinking even though the whole point was to take her. I’m not really mad about that, but I did forget to use my food stamps on the food items, so that wasn’t awesome. I hear ya on vegetating, I wish I could but I’m too agitated over making that stupid mistake to sit still. <— INFO DUMP, IT’S WHAT WOMEN DO.

(Man reads it a few times to discern the following: woman is agitated because her mother walks slowly & she paid for the toilet paper when she didn’t mean to. Translation? She never needed to take the woman to the store to begin with. Waste of time.)


Woman: (feels valued & empathized with)

Woman: Do you think you’d like some company in about an hour once I catch up on my chores? <— WOMAN VALUES MAN.


Now I’m going back to my woman cave and blasting LAXMI on full volume.


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