(no subject)

I’m talking to the failures of the world. I’m not interested in the successful or wanna be successful. I’m talking to the wistful wishers that Life could be real because, they are lost in the corrupted unReality of it all—the lost lone lovers—alone in the home, alone in school, alone in the street, alone in the workplace, alone in roomsful of people, alone in the crowd, alone in sex even. I’m talking to those who’ve never successfully joined anything. I’m talking to the outsiders—outsiders who maybe try to pass as belonging but can’t, never can...
I’ve spent precious years of precious Life talking to wanna bes. People who wanna be part of things, plugged into the stuff that makes up the D.K., the Deathkultur, the Suiciety. They and what they aspire to are wrong. They’ve been wrong all along. Actually they’ve been wrong all thru human history. Wrong.
People who wanna be part of it, part of that world—that sociopolitical world that I’ve spent precious years of precious Life getting out of. People who want to plug into or are already irrevocably plugged into the stuff, the politics, the money—and the games of it—the lethal games of competition. They think they’re going to be winners and they’re already into the madness or they’re heavy into training for it.
Training to be competitive. They win nothing! Nobody wins who’s sold their soul to corruption. Competition for profit invariably leads to profit at any cost and corruption of people and resources. No, I’m talking to those who’ve just given up, unwillingly accepted their lonely fate, emotional hideouts who sometimes look for a way out—and sometimes find a way out.
I know you. I’ve been there a number of times. It is Hell—no less. And there is no cure, no remedy, no therapy that works really and if you’ve tried any of them, any of the cures, the shrinks and their rehab institutions, then you know what I’m talking about. Trapped. Cornered by life. I’ve been there. The loneliest guy in the world, I’d pull myself out sometimes by sheer arrogance, high, hyped feelings of superiority—lose mySelf in drugs, in art, in hard work, going for it—believing, hoping that money and fame would save me, bail me out, buy me out of the isolation, desolation.
Never happen. Only way out is In. Into integrity. Honesty! In to a now creative kind of social situation where the word is Truth—yours, mine, everybody’s. Where everyone’s into cooperation not competition. You save me so I can save you. We Live that way. Living Therapy. No other way.
It’s our religion. I’ve been to Hell and decided “What the Hell!” Might as well go for Heaven.