https://youtu.be/hFGAb6xS3sw
.
Boundlessly unfounded chaos would appear to be
the order of the day today from Speonk to Bombay.
It’s not that any thing might happen but that every
thing must happen which contrives to drive one
mad. “Does it serve justice that such coconut-
stuffed heads as ours be driven nuts as well?” or so
.
the clan of crania I’d just impelled to sprout up
from my neck and shoulders into an incarnate form,
now queried God. Who out of mirthless laughter
hollowly replied, “Because you cannot be dissuaded
from believing there’s a cosmic truth, your reality
both must and cannot happen: you’re Ambivalence
.
made flesh. Maybe, baby, you’ll discover you have
never lived. To see if you exist you must subject
yourself to infinite varieties of ands and buts and ifs.
Recall infinity knows nothing of ‘before’ or ‘after’.
And candy bars are lazy.” (As I, albeit vainly, have
implored you to accept, we are those candy bars
.
and God is crazy. There’s more (God’s hungry for
us sundry sweets!) but it avails us little to explore it –
undermined and undermining, all the rest at best
is hazy (God’s synonym for hellish). He wants His
valedictory goodbyes to ring with language we will
relish: He does orate them stirringly, then – oh, with
.
what relief! (but no surprise) – He dies. Ambivalence
personified to such a pitch, God couldn’t find a way
to scratch – alleviate – that old hellacious itch. Ergo
the Universe he made could not stay made. That’s
the skinny on why we’re no longer here, though it
may seem we are. They’ve bedded my eight crania
.
into a comfortable and capacious booby hatch. Every
being “here” appears to think God’s busy running
worlds as usual and all is fine. They’ll find out
soon enough that nothing anymore belongs to God,
long gone. When we sit down at dawn at breakfast,
I perceive the real design. Everything is mine.
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