The gospel of Itchy Wiggle Christ, Gregory-John McCormick, Ralf Dellhofen [black books to read .TXT] 📗

at the thought of a toy i had as a child. i wonder what happened to that toy. i miss it. i can´t even begin to think about a pet that died - and the people i´ve known and loved who died. THEY HURT ME. i´m in pain from all the loss, i´m in constant pain. lost toys, lost animals, lost people. and then the ones i know wonder why the hell i find it so hard to trust. it´s because i am afraid of losing them, too. they mean that much to me.

 

all my life has been defined by one incidence of pain followed by another. any happy times i´ve had are only the filler in between the moments of pain. it´s hard to imagine how i have managed to cope with it. i have not coped too well, obviously. if only i could somehow get to a point where i could just have a year without being pummeled by the horrors of life, or even a month. maybe a day. even one hour. but it is not to be so, not at this juncture in my life. everytime i think life has gotten as bad as it could possibly be, it gets worse and worse. there is no respite. one would think, that if i get to the lowest point, that i could go no lower. but believe me, dear reader - life is a sadistic torturer, and it finds ways to destroy the spirit further - there is an abyss, a bottomless pit of hell of pain waiting beneath us all. we cannot even imagine how bad it could possibly be. the only consolation we have is to obliterate the mind, so the pain in the spirit cannot filter through, so we are unaware of the reality of how brutal life really is.

 

i am a pirate, sailing the irish sea. i raid english trading vessels, loot them and capture the crew, selling them as slaves. i am a cut-throat bloodthirsty pirate, with a golden ring in my ear, a buckler sword at my side, and a love for rum. i need a drink.

 

i watched a sparrow that was pecking around a small flower garden. he saw some bees flying around a yellow tiger-lilly. he sprang up from the ground and snatched one of the bees in his beak and flew back down. he then started mangling the bee and trying to swallow it whole, but the bee was too big, so the sparrow flew off with it. i was a bit shocked, because i feed the sparrows everyday with bread from my own meals. i call the sparrows my "finchees", and i love them dearly. to me, they are the most beautiful things in my life. so it was shocking to me to see one of my finchees so brutally attack an innocent bee. i was not aware that finchees ate bugs. i thought they were vegetarians.

 

i am vegetarian, so there was a kind of connection. maybe bees are not exactly "meat", but i still would never eat a bee. bees are alive and they wiggle. i do not eat anything that ever wiggled. i like bees, also. I have had many a thought as of late about one day having some bees colonies to make honey - in which i would then make mead. The bees would go well with my idea of having goats and making feta cheese from their milk. i like feta cheese and honey and mead. i like bees and sparrows too, but not to eat. well, maybe that finchee really didn´t want to eat the bee. i didn´t see him actually eat the bee after all, he just fucked it up a bit. maybe that finchee was a sort of "Hannibal Lecter" sparrow. i don´t know.

 

i got a note from the doctor today. it said i had an abnormality in my recent tests. i hope it is something terrible. i´m getting tired of all this stupid shit.

 

what kind of a person would do a thing like that ? a very sick person. a very disturbed person i´m on a winning streak. the frog is green, the tongue that licks it belongs to a very tempting woman. it´s the irresistable taste that can only come from a crazed addicted hop-head, my kind of girl. if you could do it all over again, would you ? FUCK NO. it is putting it lightly that i regret ever been born. struggling thru life every fucking moment. breathing is painful. exploitation of my life energy. i´m tired. i need to sleep but i´m afraid of my nightmares. i haven´t shit for days on end. the last time i did i lost at least a liter of blood out my ass. i´ve had a constant pounding migraine headache and a subtle nausea. and a huge shadow of foreboding doom looming over my soul. i cannot rely or ask on any god to help me out of the mess i´ve found myself in.

 

They don´t care, or they are not there. i must take it all into my own hands. my soul cries for the kiss of the beautiful woman who will transform my frog existence into something i could finally bear. but this is a dream and a fantasy, and it may as well be a plea to the gods. it won´t come true, either.

 

i´ve drank an awful lot of guinness in my 40 years. a lot of whiskey, too, mostly irish. i think it is the only way i´ve been able to handle it all. i understand why people drink and do even stronger drugs - it´s to escape the fate of living. it is otherwise unbearable without something to drown out the horror and boredom and uselessness. i would like a cool pint of guinness right now. i miss it. i could use a little obliteration of reality. since booze of any kind is not forthcoming, i will go to sleep. hopefully no dreams or nightmares. just a nice long comatose death-sleep. good night, world.

 

now the day begins to find me still deeply mired in my melancholy. this is everyday. the moon is at half at seven in the morning. red-wing blackbirds play on the grass under the tree where i throw bread for them and the finchees. i am the creation of a sadistic god in an insane universe. one wonders how much suffering can be endured by any person, or why. what is the point in prolonging the pain and avoiding the inevitable ? well, the gods of the prison have turned on the lights, it is time for me to paint my glorious pictures - my glimpses of the hell inside my soul.

 

nothing in this world can drive a man faster, take him to greater heights, or destroy him completely like the love of a woman. Only with my love can i stand together to face the forces of darkness in this world. apart and alone in this place, all love and hope escapes me. the prison inside this prison. the walls around the walls. there is no egress, no passage to happiness. endless pain. Komm zu mir, süßer Tod.

 

i am so tired. the wind is blowing like the end of the world. the sun is hiding from me. i feel sick. i´m afraid to shit - i don´t think my body has had the chance to make up for the blood i lost the last time i shit. it´s so hard to sit still. i cannot discuss the results of my symptoms with a doctor. there is no doctor that could fix my ailments. there´s no god, no doctor, no thing that can help me. i am a miserable wretch, i should only be put to sleep like a sick and hopelessly diseased animal. there´s a hole in my gums between my first and second bicuspids, left upper side of my mouth. the hole keeps bleeding and pieces of gum keep coming out of there when i floss everyday. very disheartening, how my body is falling apart piece by piece, physically. but it is nothing compared to how it is falling apart inside me - my soul is rotting like a lump of hamburger sitting out in the sun for three weeks. and it stinks also - that stench is that of a memory of what is rotting. memories of what once was a good soul, but what is now even less than a stinking rotting lump of flesh.

 

a friend told me he had a nightmare about me - that he and i were in a restaurant and he got me drunk and high on pot and beer. he said i was incoherent, and he got me to eat a bite of steak. he is a real fat guy who cannot understand that i am a vegetarian. i was so fucked-up that i took a bite of the steak. one bite. then i started screaming and bright glowing green bile started spewing out of my mouth. i started climbing up the walls like spiderman and growling and vomitting on the restaurant patrons, and they were all screaming in horror. this is the kind of dream i wish i could have, rather than the terrible shit i do have - my nightmares are all full of emotional pain and wanting to be with my family and loved ones.

 

somebody was asking me about amsterdam. so much happened to me in that city. it is hard to recount every detail. i´ve been tattooed in amsterdam, pierced, arrested, had my hair dyed green, taken every drug available on the planet earth. and perhaps some interstellar contraband as well. i´ve had a sex marathon with a 17 year old girl while fried on hash cakes, i´ve been propositioned for sex from a female cop, i´ve been so high on acid that i thought i was a secret agent spy and tried to pounce down onto a tourist cruise ship that was floating past a bridge i was hiding under. so many things.

 

perhaps my favorite time in amsterdam was when i woke up at seven in the morning and took three hits of really strong acid, this blotter type on white with a purple indian "omm" symbol on it. this was tantamount to creating an irrepairable psychotic reaction. and just as the acid started to go to work proper, some 30 to 40 minutes later, i walked to the van gogh museum and got in just as they openned. i sat and looked at vincent´s paintings for hours and hours until they closed. i was talking to vincent the whole time. it was nice. those were happy times. but now they make me sad to think about. this is what life is - up and down.

 

greetings from gregor, patron saint of pain and hopeless causes. it´s time for the death of all senses, a trip to the land of noddy blinkers. death in the afternoon. i took a nap and now death in the night. the escape from this horrid reality into the dreams, the nightmares, the crashing upon my spirit of all my unfinished mental business and unresolved conflicts. i´m always looking for the mental escape. where do i get my sanity? can it fit into a garbage bag? which recycling container do i put it into? i want to be sure, because i wouldn´t want the german garbage polizei to give me a 500 dollar ticket for disposing of my sanity an improper manner. i watched a TV show about some amis trying to find hitler´s bunker in berlin. hmm. it made me think about my time in berlin. again, so many things happened. truly a wonderful and terrible experience. but more good than bad. i drank a lot of champagne that i stole from the grocery down the street. i didn´t even need to steal the champagne, i had thousands of dollar with me that i carried around in my pocket, loose, no wallet.