sometimes...

THE REALITY MANIFESTO

I've lost the ability to tell what's good or bad, true or not true, any more. And don't try tell me - okay? I'll believe what I want to believe and you believe what you believe. The truth is overrated as a virtue. All kinds of honesty. Even honesty honesty.

This is what it is to be psychotic. I’ve made a pretty fair adjustment to the outside world except for this one fixed idea. It will never go away, I will have it for the balance of my life. It's a harmless idea and it keeps me going. So they’ve made no attempt to deal with it psychiatrically.

When all your theories and explanations about yourself have worn out, when you know nothing, believe nothing, and the rest is obscure. Reality denied comes back to haunt. To overtake one without warning and make one insane. How fragile this psychological edge. One wrong statement, one statement too much, and it will vanish. Once lost it might never be regained.

What can I tell? The total reality as I know it? That is too hard to do, because I really do not comprehend it myself. I don't know! It always comes back to that. You must wait for me to figure it out... and be there with me, either physically or electronically, when it happens. Frankly, I'm too tired to care.

You shouldn't be frightened so easily. Or life is going to be too much for you. If you're afraid you don't commit yourself to life completely; fear makes you always, always hold something back. My reality is leaking back. The Gods are playing with us. Pulling off our wings. Give up; it is hopeless. Like living in a world made of rubber. Everything bounces. Changes shape as soon it is touched or even looked at.

To live is to be hunted. The die was cast in the beginning. Before any of you even laid hands on it. As you go to your grave your mouth will still be open, asking the question, "What did I do?" You will be buried that way, with your mouth still open.

There is beauty which will never be lost. And I abide it. And that, in the final analysis, is all that matters.


Constructed entirely from snippets from Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said by PKD

"We had to communicate in cryptic signs"

What follows is verbatim:

From R Crumbs comic portrayal of Philip K Dick  (as in my previous blog post)

I was sitting there one day, and the Upsilon, which looks like the capital letter "Y", suddenly turned into a palm tree and then opened up the entire Mesopotamian world. 


From BiPolar Guy's book "A Branch of Wisdom" 

And so I ventured into ancient Byblos*... I was particularly on the lookout for the the origins of letters such as Y, as this letter seemed to be playing a larger and larger role in my life.

...It was the forked branch of the magical tree that ultimately saved Osiris. And the King of Byblos was so pleased that he commissioned the tree to be replanted in his palace garden where its forked branches could be seen by all who entered the Kingdom. 

...And the mystical tree with its magical branches must have been a symbol of great significance. Was this image of the mystical tree in the mind of the scribe that carved the letter Y?


* An ancient port falling within the borders of Mesopotamia. 

For those that have been watching closely:

Following on my last post about Philip K Dick's unusual religious/schizophrenic experience
here is a further section of R.Crumbs excellent comic rendition of Philip K Dick's life.

My Question: Why is this above piece of great synchronistic (or apophenic, depending on your point of attack) significance to BiPolar Guy?

...what i was talking about:

The InterMesh

That... at the end of the day is all that the Vesica Pisces is...

Just look on Philip K Dicks forehead of his FacedBook group:  - hey, the pic has disppeared!

but, i got is saved on my drive courtesy of Fireshots - what an awesome FFX eXtension!

u can see what I mean here:

Some dude in afrika knew this already
a sangoma

a carver of stone

Sports better
Bet:
Good chance for Netherlands

Is in the neanderthal
bones...