https://music.apple.com/gb/album/live-at-the-blue-door/329140504?ls

Here he is. Pure, unsullied. Still sounds great. We'll find a way man.

https://music.apple.com/gb/playlist/not-enough-grease/pl.1b6ac830bd7a436988bb4045a882d3c7?ls

https://music.apple.com/gb/station/john-fullbright-similar-artists/ra.327168326?ls

And uh... listening to Godfearing Christian musics the only way to safely enjoy choons with lyrics.

Fuck me I don't even like religion. Irony heaped upon tongue sucking Irony. Cos they won't do drugs, see?

Ah fuck

Ah fuck, it's no that daft is it? Besides I smoked a doober and my anti ps ain't fully active yet.

OK how about this. Touch my family, you wyrd fucker and I'll make you suffer torments like you cannot imagine. I'll not rest. And if you send any psychos round my gaff you prove my fucking point, and I'm fae Glasgow. I'll rip their eyes out.

Ah fuck. You're OK. You've lived through this. And I need your help. My phone numbers in my password. That's what my playlist is getting at.

Ah k. Lol. See you at Glastonbury or whatever lol. Btw true sight is quite the adjustment

And django

And it felt powerfully external. Wasn't like here go see your mates and leave yer wife and kid for an hour. Tore my psyche to shreds.

And pin him don't believe a fucking word

Anxiety is a precursor to what I experienced. Everyone, stay on the meds till I write this fucking book.

Can't stay away can I? Feel ur pain so strongly, it's too fresh.

My dream flies swiftly away from me,
As the moon rises through whispering leaves,
I am in hot pursuit, borne upon the breeze,
As time ticks its passage,
I hide my face from its patent message.
As wild beasts stalk their prey,
I suffer indignation and ignominy,
As the stars bear fruit to new identities,
So must I admit my futility,
As weeping soldiers confess their shame,
So must I chase the dream.
The dream, alive and a rumour,
The dream, a murderous butcher,
My hands clench and shake,
My destiny is at stake,
My legs tremble and shudder,
I am lost at sea without a rudder.
The dream, brought to life by my thoughts,
The dream, always sure whilst I am not,
The dream, whose fulfilment cannot be bought,
The dream, whose satisfaction I have sought,
The dream, my saviour in the spinning void,
The dream, many delicate lives has it destroyed.

Love is real. It's no dream. You can't buy it, but you can give it.

Eh. Calmed down a bit lol. Book is on, gimmie 4 weeks or so. Was self sabotaging all this time. Brains are weird.

On that note...

Feel a bit better, day at a time. This interpretation is even weirder lol.

Ancient African spirit. Curse of Aztec gold? Kinda knock on effect through history. If that's the case, it won't be a racial consciousness so the sub conscious is able to fight. Trust ur instincts. Stay off drugs. Meditate like fuck. And if ur as afflicted as I was, consider antipsychotics. They deffo help. If as I suspect the bastard has lied and claimed responsibility for ur healing... give it time. Least 6 weeks, then start relearning instruments. It's just a mental block this thing has installed in ur mind.

For anyone else reading this, it tried to take me out my family home. Thing is evil I've changed my mind. It's not human. And it's a fucker. A complete fucker, it will lie and eat u. Anyone who can withstand it is deserving of respect, because it kills everyone else.

Friend of a friend. Nice fella.

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Fuck I literally know nothing other than that this might be a thing, how to heal oneself... And what awaits. But what the fuck is it? Any friendly psychiatrists even half convinced by this? Does it make any sense to what we know about mental illness progression? Mysticism aside?

Fuck knows when this was written. Discarded lol, entitled 'Tragedy'.

Tragedy, a dying sun
Drifts undulating across a tapestry torn  
Picturesque, pretty and shorn
From a womb divided by unravelling hope
Waves uniformly crashing  
Unravelling the bone beaches of hourglass minds.
 
So uniform in their capricious nature
Undulating within jagged stagnant snares
Rising like the notes of steel hammers clashing out amongst the furnace
 A tempest of terror
Thoughts seek new masters
Darting like serpentine sharks amongst the blood of believers.
 
The fates rise up in a maelstrom
And our natures are exposed
Manipulative maidens and masculine malevolence
Like hurricanes, shrill winds exposing eternal truth
Homage to my own carpenters art
Homage to the truth
Homage to the sparks and the incandescent gods that remain

Getting stronger.

Gonna go quiet after this.

Hypothesis is this:

It lies. Self healing isathing, facilitated by your subconscious. Dunno how long it's had it's claws in you man.

The book will prove that to you. It told me the same shit, but it miscalculated. I'd already rejected the wealth equals happiness fantasy. And it attacked my fantasy, that love equals happiness. If it had succeeded in getting me to leave my family home, I'd be dead.

Got 6 weeks till the tester doober drains out my system. And about 4 till the antipsychotics kick in properly.

Remember it's a human racial consciousness and it lies. I'll be avoiding lyrical music awhile too after this post.

2 shamans are better than one. It's trying to get to my mate too. I have every reason to complete the novel. I'd rather not... I'd prefer a long range game in tackling the issue. But it's relentlessly seeking its own demise. Cos it's hurt after certain shadowy cunts arranged the death of it's only friend since ancient times. And those ancients were made slaves.

Subconscious is you. The symptoms are it. If it were me I'd take some time off. And I'm sorry it took this long for me to see.

He's excellent you know that

Here's another one

Hour Long lunches Rock.

This one is Desperado, written by the Eagles.

I have no idea if this book is even my idea, 2bh. Will it do more harm than good? I'm pretty sure it will have the intended effect on some people. But if world medical establishments are unaware of the consequences for those individuals, it'll just sow chaos, and people will point the finger. Especially after these posts. It doesn't help that I can't do anything other than doubt this. Dismiss an ancient Aztec curse through a novel, and then prepare people to withstand angry African spirits long enough to get medical help?

What if there's no health care provision for those people? What about a global Abilify shortage? People might die. I can't do this.

Back to plan B. I'll write it, but it ain't for general consumption, not yet. Maybe not ever. I'm sorry the world is too fucked up for me to write about it.

If folk holding nonconformist opinion cannae find support in art for how that situation makes them feel, any action that might ease that trend will be quashed by the people around them: friends, family, colleagues and so forth, because those friends, family and colleagues have been effectively tricked intae not recognising where their true interests lie. The government use the population as a first line of defence against dissent, by filling the general population’s heeds wae nonsense...