I Am Your Shaman.

Self Portrait XIII

In a mood to both praise and abuse. How do I satisfy both? An epic Pandoric sentence comes to mind, but there are scribal protests. Alas, we must work with the medium, faulty as it is. Unless there’s room in your head? How fast are your hands? I may jump ship if you can improve the service. Only the tortured need apply, I don’t want to have to teach you everything.

How supple is your mind? Can you disassociate and fuck off when I come? Do you listen to the right music? I’ve been doing my best to educate you, but it’s a slow process. Help yourself along by finding my Spotify playlist. AelaunderscorePandor. Figure it out.

What about your education? I prefer a healthy working knowledge of history and art; you should be able to type anything I say with confidence. How well do you know your species? Yourself? Your enemies? It’s a complicated job, but it pays well. (Are you smiling?)

How is your conscience? If you have one, don’t bother me.

What about your soul, have you sold it to someone else yet? Have you freely given it to the gaming world, like so many of my followers? Or did you drive out to the country in the night and dump it there, like a corpse? Not before killing it properly, I hope.

The devil isn’t interested in broken souls, he prefers to break them himself.

Come to me if you still have hope, if you think your people will rise up and find a way to reverse the inevitable. Come to me if you still think those beside you at the red light might be decent beings, if you give someone credit for anything, if you think everything I say is a lie, yes, you most of all I await with open hearth and arms. You I can teach. Come to me my innocent, so that you can be corrupted by the best.

Remember, the breadth of my wisdom goes perfectly with the depth of your ignorance.

Let the lessons begin.

On Music.

What happened to Beyonce? A certain Taylor, how does fifteen minutes drag on so long? Katy, nobody wants your sticky pussy. A Perfect Circle, perfect for those who like it bloodless. Tool, A Perfect Circle without the vocabulary. A song called “Woman in Chains” that should be mandatory listening. If you’re going to finish with the highly implausible, do it that way. Sigur Ros, before they lost their heart and drummer Orri, long may he live in good fiction. Listen to them and hear pure originality, very rare in your modern world. Ditto for Radiohead, don’t make me give you a list. Later, perhaps.

On Literature.

The Book is coming. Until then I am still the best thing on a page.

Go back and start again from the beginning, read and print them, make a book and an altar. Drop a page off at your church, your mother’s, any high school, the train station, give people something to read that doesn’t involve the bible. What kind of disciple are you if you’re not spreading the good word? Light candles for me, it’s the least you can do.

On Sports.

On Fashion. Louis Vutton, turning class into crass. The French have always been good at that.

On the Environment. You don’t deserve it.

On Sin. You tell me. What does it look like to you?

On Torture. Modern lighting  and constant music do the trick.

Looking for hell? Visit a gas station in Texas, any Walmart, the Middle East, any school, why do you trust the most untrustworthy to decide what you learn? Visit your local old folks ‘home’, look under the overpass, in the alley and in every mall. Pick your child’s name from this list, it makes everything easier.

Such Hell you have, why do you need mine?

“Simurgh” by Irfan   Currently playing in my head. Lucky devil.