The gospel of Itchy Wiggle Christ by Gregory-John McCormick, Ralf Dellhofen (books to read for beginners TXT) 📖

flashback - but it turns out i felt the ground shaking at the exact time that the earthquake happened. i know i have some psychic ability, so this is not so bizarre to me, but i think i felt more the disturbance of chi energy than actual ground shaking. maybe i felt the people die. i felt something for certain, hm. sri lanka was hit very hard, that made me the saddest - i want to visit there one day. i have great respect for indian/hindu people. i think i may marry a girl from india, it was in my dreams.

 

more on my dream - of how i think i may marry a girl from india. in my dream i was meeting the girl´s family, but they did not seem to be actually from india. everyone was very happy, and i seemed to be well accepted, as if my position were honorable? altho i´m not sure that the position in life of "punk-rock singer" is considered completely honorable! - but the girl i was to marry did have on a sari and headdress as hindu women wear. and she seemed completely comfortable to me, yet i did not see her face clearly - only very kind eyes. so i´m not sure if this dream was prophetic or a figment of any desire to marry a girl in a traditional manner, with much "honor" and acceptance involved - to have the girl´s family like me. maybe it is prophetic, because any girl i´ve been involved with has had a family that hates me. i can´t imagine i would dream a wish in this regard, because i generally don´t give a flyling fuck who likes me or hates me. but i think women from india are beautiful, and maybe i will marry one someday. there is another side to this, that is the "mushroom girl", a very lovely girl i spent a few months with in berlin, she was/is german, but she spent much time in india. i really liked her, even loved her, and maybe my dream was some desire-wish to see my mushroom girl again. that would be nice - but then again, i am so desperately lonely and starved for female companionship. any good memory of a girl i used to love is all i have in the department of female interaction. i haven´t talked to a real woman in four years. i don´t even know what that big thing between my legs is supposed to be used for anymore, ha ha.

 

besides the poison, there is the antidote.

 

let us not despair, we who are vincent´s friends. vincent is not dead. he will never die. his love, his genius, the great beauty he has created will go on forever, enriching the world. not an hour passes but that i look at his paintings and find there a new faith, a new meaning of life. he was a colossus, a great painter, a great philosopher. "he fell a martyr to his love of art" - irving stone, lust for life.

 

vincent is buried next to his brother theo at the cemetery near the catholic church in auvers, france. if i am ever free from this prison, if i make it out alive, i will visit vincent - this i swear, and this i will do the very first chance i get - if i am ever free again.

 

"no excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness" - aristotle.

 

let me scribe to you of madness and entropy. madness in itself is not bad - i´ve been half insane my whole life. and tho it has hurt me and hurt others, i wouldn´t trade it for anything. i can do things with my madness that most anyone could never dream of doing. to be insane and then to use that insanity to create is a great gift. but i know another side of madness - entropy. the existence of nothingness, the exact opposite of existing. and this is creeping into my soul a bit more each day - entropy, darkness, nothingness. i feel my soul rotting away, my spirit failing. i am lost, locked away in a prison and no real hope exists that i will ever be free. my life is becomming entropy. and this type of madness is not to my liking. i am fading and i am afraid, and i am so very very lonely. tonight i called out to vincent to help me if he can. i hope wherever he is, that he can hear me, and that he will help. i´m not as strong as vincent was. i can´t see the good in everything. i need him to help me. i need the goddess to help me. brighed, hear me. get me out of this living hell. i need you both. i am not strong enough to last on my own anymore. i´m so very very afraid. please help me.

 

today is new year´s eve - silvester. it is another of my favorite holidays in which i find myself still in prison. i´ve missed so much since i´ve been gone from the world, and i feel as tho the deepest darkest death, the death of all life, is creeping into me. i am starting to stop caring about anything. the entropy is taking me. in this horrible year 2004, there has been war, death, and disaster all over the world. thousands of dead american soldiers, dead for a war that no one can say exactly what the war is about. only the ami war-mongers know, and the best guess is that the US must protect oil interests. oil to make gasoline so that cars can continue to pollute the atmosphere. human beings are monsters, maybe entropy should creep up the ass of all humanity, kill us all, wipe out humans forever. but perhaps america is doing the job of entropy after all. it is only a matter of time before the dirty-fission atom bombs start going off. mutants will be everywhere. fun time!

 

all is quiet on new year´s day. i want to be with you, be with you, night and day. but nothing changes on new year´s day. it is the first day of january 2005, it is 06:30 in the morning. there is no "you" particularly in the "i want to be with you" quote - assuming that bono meant that line to mean some kind of girlfriend. there is or are plenty of girls i would like to be with, but my guess is that angelina jolie, milla jovovich or jennifer tilly are busy today, ha ha. "pussycat, pussycat, i love you, yes i do. you and your pussycat eyes" - nah, i am alone on new year´s day. i am surrounded by 1000 leering schwarze pervert faggots, but this only increases my loneliness, i talk to none of these retards - i can´t even understand what they say.

 

i found i could not continue writing, it is the fourth of january now. i felt quite disgusted on new year´s day. it is quite difficult to describe to you, my dear reader. i will try: when i was a boy, holidays were good times, my dad would be home, whereas he was almost always gone at work, and for the most part these were happy times. now i spend my days, and all my holiday times, in the presence of the most foul, unnaturally perverse monsters of all humanity. so it is very difficult for me, especially on holidays. it is not to say that all my holidays as a boy were the greatest and most wonderful of times, and at rare times it is not so terrible in this prison - i mean, the schwarze-schwulls have to sleep at some point, and i tend to find times when those monsters are asleep or not near me, and then i can paint or write letters - and i realize to you, my reader, that it does not seem to be such a great thing to just be able to paint or write or even read a book without being annoyed by noise of faggotry - but to me it is a blessing - a short moment of peace when i can take a breath. but these times are very rare, as i said. sometimes weeks go by and i find myself without a moment´s peace. such as it was on new year´s day - i could not write in peace because of the faggots "celebrating" - and it digusts me - how these animals can celebrate anything in here - i mean, they are in prison. but as is the case, this prison is a better home to these monsters than any home they ever had outside - but for me, this place is hell incarnate - the worst place i´ve ever known in my short 40 years. even a cold hard bench in a hauptbahnhof in berlin is a better life than this. i wish it could all end very soon.

 

some few days into the new year, nothing has changed, it´s all the horrible same mess: i am being tortured daily, sometimes hourly or minute by minute in this goddamned living hell. the world is falling apart. death and destruction in iraq, some more in thailand, the earth taking out its vengeance on about 100.000 people in sri-lanka plus thailand. is this the end of the world? armageddon is coming soon? jaysus, joseph and mary, i sure hope so. sometimes i think that the only way i will ever get out of here is when the world finally comes to an end. i am quite the pragmatist - my means to an end of my incarceration involves hoping that everyone, including you, dear reader, get blown up and destroyed in one final cataclysmic world death-throe. only so that i can die, too - so i can be free, finally free. quite selfish of me, yes? well, i´ve been accused of much worse things than being selfish. i´m the fookin´son of satan, so i´ve heard.

 

dirt, filth, facist faggots, world politics. i dreamed of money and drinking guinness. at one point in the dream i was buying a pint for an irish midget, the bartender was indian, he tried to charge me 17 dollars for the pint, i started to complain because he handed me back three dollars in change from a 20 i gave, but the change was all little coins from strange countries - india, japan, china, guatemala, etc. so i started to complain, and i was very forceful. suddenly a cop came, and it was another indian, i mean, from india, not the native american "indian". and the indian cop spoke to me in italian! and i answered him back in german, and i was pushed out the door without giving the pint, expensive as it was, to the irish midget. i was taken into some maze of strange alley ways, i kept asking in german "what the hell did i do?", but the indian cop would say nothing. finally i woke up singing "the cars" song, "up and down", the same which i recorded myself. there were other strange things in the dream, lots of irish things. i was sitting in the pub before the police incident, drinking a lot, and some of my past wives were around. something about driving a cadillac. very strange dream. i wonder what dreaming about money means? what in the hell am i doing here? i woke up in prison! i´m surrounded by vicious schwarze faggots, i am dying inside, my soul is fading. i am dreaming.

 

i have been thinking about dying lately, and how i should be sure to arrange my last will and testament. i think a great deal about dying, i´m not sure why, maybe because i sense the end of something, but i am not sure what, perhaps i will die, perhaps i will be released,