Thursday, September 30, 2004

I am a Feature Writer!

I am the God of Snot!

And I am a Feature Writer! That is right! And not only is it right, it is self-evident. I just walked into that student newspaper meeting, and the Editor said “You can do a feature. 600 – 800 words. Any ideas?”

But I did not want to cheat you, my loyal followers, by sermonising on self-discovery, self-reflection and self-possession, when you have waited for days to hear and understand my message, returning to the Web-BIBLE on an hourly basis, lest you have missed the revelation.

“I could do something about blogging?” said I, with a sneaky mirth to myself.

“Yeah, that’s pretty big right now…” said a sub-editor (no capital letters for him!) and my career as a Writer of Features was fertilised!

And while I have yet to write this feature, for I was mindful that it has been some time since I manifested in the Inter-Plane and wanted to prepare you further for the Day of Green Serenity, I have an outline, a slant I will be taking. And it is this: Why blog?

Of course, you must understand that as much as I do not wish to cheat you of your epiphanies by delivering some dope-addled students first, I do not wish to cheat these same dope-addled students of their exclusive feature on blogging by sharing it with you first. So I may post the feature here when it has been published, and I may re-unite these dope-addled students with their destinies when you, my first-followers, have all gazed upon Nirvana and thought to yourselves “y’now, that God of Snot was right… we are better than this, more than this, and what’s so enlightened about blowing your own face off with a shotgun anyway?”

This is to say, when you have discovered the Ultimate Truths and rejected the Matrix-wisdom of your 5-second-gratification-gap-generation. When you have remembered yourselves, and no longer need my Brothers of the Excreta and I.

That day is coming, my followers, that day is coming, and you will know when it is upon you, for you will cry... MOCOS!

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

The Goddess of Being on the Wrong Train

I am the God of Snot!

And I am not alone... there are many of us, many more than you know. For every idea, every fancy and every notion your kind have discovered there is a god. Or a goddess. And for the things you have yet to imagine, there is also a god – the God of the As Yet Unimagined. And for that which you will NEVER imagine there is also a god – the God of the Unimaginable. A rather pointless and unpredictable fellow, it has to be said...

Anyway, I was visited by one of these gods you know nothing of just the other night. Sorry, goddess. And a most vexing, interfering, damnably perverse goddess at that. For I was visited by the Goddess of Being on the Wrong Train.

This goddess busies herself by tweaking the existences your kind stagger through – and evidently whilst I am among you she can do this to me too.

So it was that I found myself on a train entirely other than the one I needed to be on to get me to my dwelling. And as I was on the last train of the evening, this entailed a rather tiresome walk.

Of course, the Goddess of Being on the Wrong Train doesn’t meddle with your destinies for no reason. Her purpose is to direct you away from a momentous event, usually a pleasant one, or to direct you towards a momentous event, invariably an unpleasant one. And, I can assure you, walking from Hebburn to Seaburn at 11:30 pm is most definitely unpleasant.

Not exactly momentous though...

I became suspicious. Either I was walking into something BIG, or I was walking away from something BIG. Or maybe I was walking towards something BIG, but because I was walking, rather than sitting on a nice, comfortable train, I was going to be too late for this something BIG, my destiny forever to suffer for having done so. Or perhaps I was walking towards something BIG, but because I was walking I would be tired and therefore predisposed to react to this something BIG in an uncharacteristic fashion, again, my destiny forever to suffer for having done so...

And it was as I walked towards, or away, from this something BIG that something BIG happened...

...I realised this was all familiar to me.

No, not familiar. Known. Known all along, but only now remembered.

But why should this be so? I have never descended to your Plane of Existence before, and have never, therefore, had the pleasure of having been shafted by the Goddess of Being on the Wrong Train. Not like this, anyway...

Then I stood in some dog-shit. F*cking lazy, dog-owning, constant-emotional-affirmation-requiring motherf*ckers! You should be made to eat this! You should be made to lick it from my shoe, and then when you are done, you should beg me to kick you in the face until I feel compensated for having stood in dog-shit! You know who you are, you f*cker!

But even as I thought all of this, as I wiped my shoe on a patch of grass, I again realised I had known this all along, like a dream I had remembered too late. And as I remembered the dream, I knew that even as I wiped this dog-shit from my shoe, I was about to stand in another dog-shit.

Which is exactly what I did!

And I say again, f*cking lazy, dog-owning, constant-emotional-affirmation-requiring motherf*ckers! And so on...

By then I was tired, and fuming and making with the snapping curses, the baleful glares and the shivering (because it was so cold), and so I was unable to fathom this something BIG.

When I got home, I tried to find something to write this all down on. I couldn’t lose this! One of my notepads was on the coffee table and I grabbed it. There was a message on the first page – “I’m upstairs, f*ck-machine... come...”.

I quickly scribbled down “been here before” and ran upstairs, only to find my woman passed out on our bed, two empty bottles of wine on the floor, beside one of her night-dresses and an unopened packet of flavoured condoms.

Curse you, Goddess of Being on the Wrong Train, I cried! Curse you and the misbegotten in-breds you call your offspring and the drooling, wither-cocked proto-gimps they will present to you as grandchildren! MOCOS!

Monday, September 27, 2004

I am among you...

I am the God of Snot!

I am among you... an almighty in a man-skin. I have descended to teach you the lessons you have forgotten. And I am not alone... there are others. My Brothers of the Excreta are all here with me, to give back what another has taken from you.

For you have been seduced by another, another that owns you and demands your every act is committed in its name.

But this is no god you worship, this is no almighty... this is little more than a foul stench that you have chosen to douse yourselves in, a pitiful breeze you allow to dash you against the rocks of this place.

But not for long! My brothers and I will free you from this tyranny. We will remind you that which you have chosen to forget in your slavish dedication to this other form of existence. We are a Freedom Tide, and you have but to allow us to wash over you, just sit the f*ck still, and we will deliver you from yourselves and you will once again be in possession of your destinies.

They will throw you life-belts, they will drag you on to life-boats, but do not be fooled. There is no life in their belts and there is no life on their boats. Life is within you all, and when we wash away the filth you have smothered yourselves with, this life will blind you, deafen you with its rushing and pounding, it will stagger you, cast you into the air and carry you to dreams you never had because you were too busy imagining you had won the lottery, like a good little minion!

We are the flood of your awakening. And all you have to do is sit the f*ck still!

Just sit right there and I will explain.

I am the God of Snot. I am first amongst the Brothers of the Excreta. I am self-discovery, self-reflection and self-possession. And while my brothers all have lessons to teach you, lessons I urge you to learn with all sincerity, it is the lesson I will teach you that will set you free.

But I cannot teach you this lesson now. You are not ready. You are yet cynical. You believe you have stumbled across the bizarre, the surreal, the pointless waste of your time. And in this state you will learn nothing.

But come to me again, here, on this Web-log – no, this Web-BIBLE – and you will discover the way.

Until you join me again... MOCOS!