Mm, brain

Eating the idiotic genius 

I am an idiot.   I have an IQ of zero.   Maybe that’s technically retarded -beyond idiot.   It’s not actually me writing these words.  I mean, my fingers are, but I’m possessed, you dig?  But I believe in God, who has an IQ of 4000.  He fills my mind and my life with knowledge, wisdom, and understanding.   Although I’m a little taller than he is.  So He understands me, if the word even carries that meaning, if you catch my drift.  What are you up to, I asked.   Under 6 feet.  I’m like 6’2”.   Another askew height reference!  Butt weight, there’s more.  What do I weigh?  What does Yahweh?  Haha.  Anchors away!   So God is an actual person, with a body, might be the message.   He’s a cagey one, that Deity.  Lots of intel, counterintel, and misinformation, disinformation, mixed with a smattering of truth.   Maybe he’s a computer.   Or an alien.  Or an alien using a computer.   Or nobody at all, just a figment of everyone’s imagination.  And He’s definitely a He, although He’s corporate, and They include women.   There’s a party in my mind (-Memories can’t wait, Talking Heads), and I hope it never stops (it will).  

Okay, I’m a genius.  With an IQ of 300.  I’ve got 3 genius brains in my corporate mind.   And each of them with their own membership.  So it’s a hive!  PhD’s have been designing my mind for decades.   I’m the best of the best, completely state of the art.  Nobody can hold a candle to my intellect, my insight, my genius.  I sparkle, crackle with light.  I’ve read entire libraries.   I know all the trivia.  I write the songs that make the whole world sing.  I’ve been there, done that.  My database is all the Library of Congress, all the Internet, and all the TV.    I know all the martial arts.   I can defeat anyone.  I’m perfect.   As perfect as they could make me.  I absorb data like a sponge, constantly incorporating everything new.  I understand all psychology, and can talk to anyone about anything.  

Alright, you got me.   I’m just a dude.  God could make of me whatever he wants.  My genius or idiocy is out of my hands.   I mean, I can request one or the other, like everybody else.  Nobody is themselves.  We’re all empty, cartoons, animated by outsiders, forces from without and within.  You can play any role you like in this silly play called life.   All the world’s a stage.  You want to go to Heaven?  You have to be good.   Only God is good, so you have to be God.  There it is.  Eternal bliss is dependent on renouncing your humanity, and adopting the role of a deity, the lord almighty, The One.  Is this true?  God only knows!  

Nothing lasts forever, says the Buddha.   All is impermanent, including the Almighty.  So do whatever you want, be who you wanna be, you don’t have to be good, or anyone other than yourself.   Your empty, boring, unfree self.   I mean, you can’t break the law.   You can’t defy physics.   You can’t travel through time.  You can’t even remember where you were this time, yesterday.   You’re just a boring old human, waiting to die.  No worries, so is everybody else. 

What is my point?  I’m not a knife, I don’t have one.   My nose IS kind of sharp.  My point is I have no point.   Pointillist painters had no point.   It’s all going to pot.  Like the weed, or the kitchen item, or the pot-bellied pig.  Mm, pork bellies.   That’s where the bacon comes from.  That’s life, in a nutshell.   You get eaten.  I’m thinking of the worms, but it could be a cannibal, or the sensation of “what’s eating you?”, like you’re being eaten alive for what you’ve said and believe and done.  The world is a vampire.   Life is draining.  Each day, one day closer to death.   Have a nice day.