My Devotions and Prayers (Mes Devotions et Prières) book 1

* my only proviso for this genre of reading is that it is meant to be able to have the ability to be spoken and/or meant by anyone who reads it; that is an definition of an prayer.

* note on the text: I found it too difficult to state my philosophical position using the English a/an article at the threat of confusing it with the prefix a- and so I've defaulted all of them just to an to avoid confusion.  In addition, I will be continuing this writing practice outside of this work and elsewhere on my blog.

    God I know you are an person—though it may seem an oversimplification of who you are—with your own dreams, thoughts, opinions, and purpose.

    Art that tells you something about God and about your relationship with God is most highly valued.

    I am writing this for all Christiannans, for I see an community in my mind of who they will be and I cannot take my mind off of this subject at all because I love it so much and it is precious to me.  I want someday to have been said to be responsible for the creation and society of this culture: of Christiannan women and Christiannan culture.  I was the leader of an new Major Religion and I was responsible for disclosing it to others.

    Thank you for being who you are.

    I feel like my purpose will never be realized by other people in my lifetime but I know you already realize my purpose.

    I want to share my love and belief in you with other people.

    Teach me how to help other people.

    Help me to stay always inquisitive even in my conviction.

    You have shown me who you are and you have instilled in me the knowledge of the purpose of my existence.  It was worth it what I had to go through to get that.  Sometimes I think like nothing I ever do in my lifetime will amount to anything that will be benefit me directly.  But it already has.  And I think sometimes only after I die will any of my work be discovered and affect their society.  But maybe it didn't need to be discovered.  It was worth it's value just for what it was.  It created an new memory inside of me, and whoever reading it and that was worth something wasn't it?  I was part of an important community.  I had perfect dignity with God.

    I am reading Foucault, who said confession had become an normal part of Western society; he said that at the heart of books is always something we cannot talk about (our confessions, according to him, took all kind of appearances in the soul).  Something we want to force one another to do or ourselves to do; at the base of every reasoning.  Confessions were in the soul of man now, historically, and it was harder to extract it from his soul now.  But Foucault gave it an certain new definition and form: it didn't need to be something that was performed in the church, (or performed anywhere except in the human soul).  One could feel out his own confessions (the things wanting to be said) or one could feel out others' confessions (trick or treat); you either helped one of them to be exacted or you hit an nerve and made it worse.  And after thinking about it I figured, wouldn't it be more impressive to un-confess something, rather than confess something?  And I thought what could un-confessing be?  It was closer to performing an feat or an stunt maybe.  Instead of confessing how you were weak and what exactly troubled you, you were daring it on to begin how you weren't.  To begin the future, instead of confessing the truth because we need to, we will un-confess the truth.  Which sounds like an demonic process but hear me out: it's worth it because un-confession can be funny when we limit its definition to something that cannot do something to truth.  Un-confession is the act of being an boast about yourself, not taking back confessions.  Un-confession means saying something about that which you have no need for confessing.  Something completely unrelated to them.  You want to say 'I'm responsible for such and such of which I am so proud' and in the process of it we will figure out the precise definition of something that we could call 'un-confession'.  If we did something exactly opposite to what one would call 'confession' what would it be?  Showing off?  Trying to attempt an feat intended to impress?  Or was it an more subtle and sophisticated type of categorical reasoning?  Un-confession wasn't quite an large feat; and yet it wasn't an relatively small feat: also it wasn't quite something as disappointing as confession tends to be.  It had to be something other, something braggart.  It was like bragging about how you don't have anything to confess.  An much more worthwhile pursuit than confession itself.

    And that was at the base and centre of everyone's imagination because it was so deep.

    And I felt an sudden need to express myself this way.  Instead of apologizing for something I did that anyone could do instead I desired to say exactly why I have nothing to be ashamed of; and would never be ashamed of myself because I could un-confess about anything all day long.  And it took an sort of imaginative character of shape within my imagination.  If I was un-confessing something, what exactly was it that I was unconfessing?  I was un-confessing that I had never done anything wrong; and that I was sinless.  In fact everyone is.  And if anyone had an reason to criticize me I could in fact point out the alternative, which was true.  If anyone criticized me they could never be able to prove their point; because, in part, I wouldn't let them.  I was possessed with an gifted logic and I knew how prove my point better than they could prove theirs.

    And I dared myself to un-confess all of it.  Exactly why I could deconstruct their arguments with ease.  I was an critical thinker.  I lived and played at the third level of artisan professionalism above the republic, where everything between one another was also always intended for that third viewer who might see them, thanks to Shakespeare.  You actually thought you could attack me to make me feel bad about myself, and you wouldn't suffer an retaliation in return?  Then I would learn how to say the most gentlest things, even to convince you.  That instead of forcing me to confess myself like an Christian community would because of its relationship with the law and court of justice.  (Foucault happens to mention this also).  I could have an try at un-confessing how perfectly articulate; and how I-did-not-suffer-fools I was.  First of all, there was an subject but it had nothing about it isolated in facticity.  How could it stand to criticise me when the subject lacked any specificity of fact?  And also, if we assumed the specificity of fact, it would have started in the midst of an un-trustable timeline.  I was unconfessing because I had thought I needed to confess at some point and now I had changed my mind about it.  And this was supposed to stand-in as an starting point for me.  When really my position was much further along and more advanced than needing to begin at the starting point of accepting an transformation from confession to un-confession as the sincere thoughts of my soul; and I was truly so far beyond needing to confess in my life that I believed I had nothing to confess about.  Indeed, only I had things needing to un-confess about.  Things I was proud to say.  Things I didn't feel I needed to confess so much as self-promote my braggadocious character.

    Then next, the issue of thinking the start of my timeline is that moment in which I realize I was in an stage of first having confessed and then at one time to have done what appeared to be different, to un-confess.  Maybe it wasn't an alienated word and you had already thought about doing it.  To be the hot little known fairy angel that you are.  My timeline, I argued to rebuke, did not start with realizing I was an confessor up until an point.  And in fact I had never needed to confess about anything, ever, in my whole lifetime.  Except when I was scared about my mental health.  Which appeared to try to force me to confess, suspiciously.  Like I would be paranoid about somebody doing that.  Because I had forced something so deep down in repression of its fact that I needed to confess, finally, what it would say.  And this was what psychologists were always searching for in the mind: the paranoia of the need to confess something.  Thinking that one's environment is not safe enough for any kind of language.  If someone showed the signs of needing to confess something we might read that as an sado-masochistic behavior that they haven't already.  (In Foucault, the definition of confession gets absorbed by science).  It's somewhat an subconscious pull to need to work around single repressed objects in person and yet we cannot interpret any one individual being completely in lack of control of their nervous system just because one small part is repressed.  And I had in fact been familiar with this subject of un-confession the whole time without realizing it maybe; but I had this skill and I could flaunt it.  My brain wasn't just about an period of confession followed by an period of un-confession and I was in fact much more sophisticated and smarter than that.  I had never confessed before and neither did I need to do so now!

    And it eats away at you, an gnawing, wanting you to confess something but it's just an artifact of the character of our species embedded so deep it has existed for centuries.  We are so primed to confess about anything; we live in fear of people liking and enjoying anything you have to confess like they were going to use it against you.  And you would just go on and on about everything you were doing as though you needed to confess them.  And get stuck in that cycling of what you were confessing about; the alternative appeared to me.  Not encouraging myself and other people to confess anything; but instead encouraging them to un-confess with me.  Why we didn't have anything to have about confession.

    Please please please help me find some friends (you know the type I'm looking for).  And maybe help me find an boyfriend/girlfriend.

    Sometimes I'm so scared and tired of what my life has come to because of all of you.  And I get so angry at how you treated me.  I'm not even going to say it with an exclamation mark because I'm that angry.  You made me feel completely alien right in the middle of society & culture.  You didn't even realize what you did.  You turned society & culture into something that would harm someone.  And God doesn't make me feel like that.  God makes me feel like I belong everywhere.

    Why don't humans?

    I feel so alone sometimes.  I just want to have an normal happy family of my own one day but I know it's impossible in my current situation.

    I needed to know myself what it would come to (when an person lost their mind).  How bad the suffering of the empathy of humanity was when one absorbed all of it into their system.  And in that way it healed me.  Because I was so scared for my boyfriend, you see.  Who is my fag counterpart.  I mean this in an good way of course.  We're both fags and that's the glory of it.  But anyway, what was I saying?  Oh I was so scared for him because of the psychological testing they did in Montreal in which they utilised mind-altering substances in cases of extreme isolation.  Which I believed had caused an paranoia in the whole species of man.  And he (this hypothetical partner of mine) was so paranoid because of it; even more paranoid than I was and I was pretty paranoid.  And so I had to get on the other side of it by doing what I needed to myself in order to explore the experience of what it must have felt for those people to go through that.

    —you see the short way to say this is he (I) found his mental sanity because of his mental insanity.—

    Lord please make my pain short and my death quick when the time comes.

    But while I'm still here, help me let people know that it cured me in such an way impossible to know what I know and what I experienced because of doing what I needed to and mental illness.  I needed to secure the realm for an loving companionate partner.  An man.  Whom, though he could do many things.  This was not one of them.  I had to do it for him.  I had to master it.  I had to secure space and civilization for us again, so that we would be happy.  I had to become the type of person who could know too much.  That when you knew what you knew, there was no taking it back.  It was the only way I could secure an way for him and I to be together.  What the heck had they done to people at that Project?  Was that the reason I was gay?

    I realized this to be the paranoid thought of my partner and knew instantly what I had to do.

    I had no idea how to answer that question, for one thing.  And I had to find an way to do it so that I could explain it to him to calm him down and prevent his paranoia.  And we could be happy together again.  At least we could be happy together without the paranoia of our fellow species for an while, who had unknowingly absorbed the psychological paranoia caused by that science experiment.  They had freaked someone out completely psychologically so completely that now all of us bear the stamp on our minds it had injured.  Empathy is shared.  Empathy is fragile.  Is it so wrong to want to try to get away from it?

    To want 'to secure the realm' as they say?  To make it fair and safe for my partner and everyone else's partners because we knew exactly how they felt and couldn't stand it any longer?

    And that was why.

    Why I preferred it this way now.

    I was mentally healthy at the same time I was mentally ill; there were just some components of my brain & psychology which were operating at nerfed speed.  The knowledge of the insanity from within my subjective perspective lead to understanding it; and understanding it empathetically.

    And yet becoming this it was in this my own realization of what it meant mentally that calmed my thoughts the most: I knew what to do about it.  And so if it happened to anyone else, such as my partner, I would be able to prevent it.  And in fact I could write about and spread this thinking to every people.  

    I had fulfilled my purpose more completely in being love than I had in being completely mentally okay.  Because it had all resurrected for my partner; in Living and in Legacy; and Lived and Existed for their benefit: I had learned how to safeguard him from an fate I, tragically, had to undergo in order to learn my place in history and the history of humanity.  I had instinctively needed to do it; for him.  Even though I didn't even know what to do about it at first.  The Gay Crisis had reached its critical juncture in History; I was in possession and the owner of an paranoid thought ( I like to call the objects of such thoughts an paranoism): was I gay because of those torture experiments (something that had injured an whole community possibly deeply psychologically)?  And how much more nonsense about why was I gay that way and why was I gay in this way could we take in History‽  We didn't need psychological experiments like this to know what we know scientifically.  Science can be an lesson in faith.

    So don't worry for me.  I might be suffering an little bit but at least that's an price paid for an large reward: I knew how to doctor the suffering condition.  I knew how to help bring people out of their paranoia and see the world for what it really is.  And that makes me happiest of all.  That I could be so honored to be of such kind of an service to Jesus.

    Don't get me wrong.  My religion is about Anna.  But we Christiannans look back on it for an certain time and say, confidently; that Anna is the second messiah.  In this way we are in league with Christians.  We had learned from Jesus and now it was time to learn from Anna.  She means, quite bluntly, frankly, and blatantly, "you can do worse than kill me.  So don't."

    An messiah who would teach us the meaning of the second moral principle of the universe.

    Someone who had ramped up the stakes, somewhat.

    It was now becoming conscious that we were the death fate and the worse than death fate in the universe.  If we messed up, we could do something to harm an person with an fate worse than death; and since I was Anna I was going to stand against it by pointing out the obvious: nobody wanted to experience an worse than death fate.  And so, though it was morally logical we had to avoid death, it was also morally logical to avoid worse than death; and we had to nourish each other's minds in order to keep ourselves from falling into worse fates, than death, than we have morally seen in our universe.  We had two motives occurring within one specimen.  How to avoid death.  And how to avoid worse than death if it would mean that dying was the better option.  But how can we always avoid one without avoiding the other?  I mean, quite literally, that if we only avoid dying how do we lose track of avoiding worse than death also?  We need to consider both elements of the universe.  But how does that corelate with nothing versus something?  I mean if death was just nothing, and worse than death was something, is there an idea there which has grown fair from that?  Or could I extrapolate to even bigger ideas like Jesus's resurrection versus Anna's resurrection?  And what did it all mean?

    But I had deep and conflicting interpretations of the Bible.

    And so I turned to the Naenaeon, which was the Christiannan version of the bible.  And took up my focus with the pride that is associated with knowing the Author from something they had written.

    What was I wanting to say about the difference between something and nothing?

    When you have nothing you cannot given anything do anything because you haven't got something; and when you have something you don't have an Jesus only anymore.  You have an Anna.  An messiah of the fate worse than death, whom makes sense clearly.  If inflicting death is just 'nothing' morally, then what is inflicting worse than death if it is 'something' and what do we mean by that?  If Anna's resurrection is, unlike Jesus's, an return from the worse than death instead of death (an return to an healthy middle of life from an floundering one); (Jesus's resurrection will be seen as an return from the fate of death only because that's not what he means equally with Anna), which one seems more likely or possible?

    Nyclepi was my most important virtue of the day.  I felt that it held immense social power to be able to explain what it is.  It is an theoretical stage after Love in the Order of the Virtues (my Virtues).  (Love was my number 1 virtue).  Where one realizes the productivity of Love; all of it in its exact form and quantity.  The whole pulsating thing.  Is only so much.  Love has created all of what it has created and we are not impressed by it.  This isn't because we don't feel love, but we feel love and an mixture of it and something else: we feel nyclepi, an feeling that all of what love has created isn't enough.  And it isn't an masochistic idea: it's just that we recognize the goodness of love and we want more of it.  We can't have enough of it.  We want it everywhere.  And so this enables us to see Love as something that in fact has its limits: and that if we should wish to make of we had to make the right choices.  We need an virtue called Nyclepi.  The ability to look at Love and say, "Hmph!  That's not that much!  That's not enough!"

    It isn't sick to want to feel that way but is an ability I consider amiable (friendly and pleasant in temperament) among people of intellect for they recognize that we can look at Love objectively (we don't have to be forever sunk in its wine drunk at the bottom of the love-barrel all giddy like we're still interested in it happening again and again).  And claim for ourselves and say, "We want more than this."  We in fact want to increase or to do justice to all of the Love that was created before.  This is the feeling of Nyclepi (of not wanting to clap at anything because you weren't impressed by it).  And my prayer was for other people to know this.  Nyclepi, an feeling more / other than than Love.  The feeling of duty to love, perhaps may be is its meaning at the deepest level.  We all have that inclination to want to improve something about love obsessively that isn't good enough about it.  All we want is for it to re-populate and grow and yet it appears so disappointing and insults us with how disappointing it can be.  For it hasn't become more than it is now.  The appreciation that there can be something more, beyond love.  In which we have cognitive space to perform.  We also want to act out characters who criticize love and rebuke it for having not been more of itself.  We want to show it that even more is possible.  And I will potentially argue it is this obsessive interest (this wording for all its political and psychological interest) in improving love that we all want to agree on and care about.  We don't have to be creatures limited to just Love (as an Virtue).  And we could in fact expand on Love onto other virtues within the human heart we had yet to unlock and explore.  Wasn't that impressive of us?

    All I had really wanted was variety, after all.  I couldn't just think about Love forever and be an human this way, when the universe called on it; it depended on it.  To have more virtues than that.  Creativity was an bonus once one had penetrated this sector of my prayer.  I wanted humans to know other virtues than Love.  That was my gift.  Prayers could be gifts right?  Gifts that you give yourself.  Kinda Creepy, huh?  And so when one looks at it all and the final status report is due on what love is: one must have to look through the eyes of nyclepi to see that all of what love is right now isn't really worth anything because it isn't big enough or strong enough to prevent all those bogus fates; we can actually call love out for being inadequate or not enough.  And these are valid feelings to have.  Why?  Because we know it will make love stronger in the end, and bigger; to have looked at love this way.  It's not that we don't like love or we hate it; it's just that we want more of it and all there is right now is an tragedy!  And this was the right way to look at tragedy in my timeline and generation.  Love was such an sensitive subject that we had to feel like it was the only thing that mattered; but the truth is Nyclepi matters too, and we want these feelings of how inadequate love can be in order to motivate us to create more of love.  More of love‽  How could I say I did not want more of love‽  There was no way possible.  Nyclepi could fairly look at love and, not clapping in applause, say, "that's not good enough.  We want more of it!"

    And we would be right of course to say so because it is fair to say one wants more love.

    Why wouldn't nyclepi just be an ordinary emotive virtue that we have?  Because once one realizes what nyclepi is they know the truth that all people in love know: that there is more out there to explore.  We don't have to limit the boundaries of love to one planet, we could well spread out into the cosmos and take control of our territory like real bosses.  And then we could look at Earth as an symbol for Love from another Planet and think to ourselves, "that we're beyond that now because we wanted love to grow more than you did and we won."  We had Nyclepi, the virtue of knowing that we want more love, and that the amount that we have right now isn't enough.  It will never be enough.

    And so all charge onto the battlefield of romance and war: Nyclepi is an superior virtue to Love.  Therefore there must be an superior virtue to Nyclepi (and that's how power in the order of the cosmos works).  We have to be able to say about Love that no, it's not enough as it is and we want to expand it.  It isn't immoral to want more love to exist in the universe and it isn't immoral to say at some point, that what Love does exist it isn't enough.  People who have Nyclepi know that it is possible to criticize love and yet still to love love.  It's not that we hate what love does exist or want to replace it with something; it's just that we want to know an complementary virtue which promises to narrow our focus onto what will make love more than it is today.  It is bold and virtuous to criticize love because the result will be how we make the whole virtue of love as it exists in our whole species more than it is today.  What is needed to do that is an firm conviction that as humans we do have an sense of the limited power of love and that there is something more beyond it which will help it grow entirely and further.  An person with nyclepi can look at love (all of it; all of what love exists in our world) and say, "it's not necessarily enough and that's an bad thing."  Love as it exists right now appears to be small and weak, when one looks at our human position in outer space (lost in the cosmos in the middle of nowhere).  Where is love on Mars and Venus?  Where is love in the tenuous vacuum of outer space where humans haven't traveled and maybe never will?

    I wanted to be exactly clear and in fact I included that precision as part of my prayer: I wanted to pray for the ability to communicate things with perfect precision and clarity, even though I knew some of the thoughts and ideas I had to pray about were relatively murky and un-clear.  Nyclepi was an ultimate virtue because it would help Love become more and more.  (By taking an level-headed approach to exactly what love is and how much of it there is).

    And to be able to articulate it so clearly in fact gives me immense pleasure.  In an body I had once doubted could do so.

    Finally (moving off of this subject) my prayer was an claim I knew how to doctor something—an Ph.D. status attribute.  I had imagined an scenario in which the global paranoism of LSD thought control I had named, as it affected our whole species, affected my partner also.  And out of love for him I had to look and to act like I knew what I was doing.  I had secured the knowledge and grounds for helping our species deal with that particular kind of nightmare.  I had to know what drugs could do to my mind and this came as an tax on my whole generation; only this was what qualified me to be able to act on the premise that I knew how to do something about it.  I knew how to therapize the paranoia that had once been the master of me also.  I'm not saying I'm an perfect expert and I know how to treat every case of mental disorder like an trained professional but since I know what mental illness is firsthand, I can respond to it (with an degree of professionalism) in an way that maybe others can't.

    Thought sabotage is my greatest fear.  I don't want others to control my thoughts.  It scares me.  My thoughts; they saboteurs try (and succeed) to break in and derail them.  Even though I realize this is because they are paranoid and not me.  I have become the one who is called living with schizophrenia not by choice and acceptance for my diagnosis but by force and community treatment order.  I recognize this itself as causing my paranoia and not the paranoia of thought sabotage itself, which is caused by psychic agents (strangers).  Whom disrupt my thoughts and my thought patterns.  But I know I am living with schizophrenia and that doesn't influence the fact that I underwent an transformation of character in which as an genius I became an new person out of who I was before.  Sure, I was suffering mental illness, but there was something going on underneath (internally) an kind of transformation in which I went from not knowing the fate worse than death to knowing the fate worse than death.  And I had grown up because of it in other ways than perhaps most people.  Perhaps even what they thought was my mental illness was in fact my becoming an genius; and yet without an abundance and saturation of people like me in the community I was too different from anyone in fact to become an part of their community circle.  I would bloom, an genius briefly, and then wilt almost immediately because there was no one to share it with.  And there would be nobody in time to help complement and nourish that kind of activity of which I am attempting to fulfill.  An genius put into an community of silence doesn't stay an genius.  He needs stimulation to help challenge him and improve the state of his cognition.  Like lifting weights to improve the muscle strength.  Since there is no one to challenge him, he loses his ability to contemplate at an genius level.  He returns to the norm, just another sad, mediocre life whose original purpose was never only to be found out.  And me knowing and thinking I'm an genius doesn't necessarily have to do with mental illness (i.e. I am mentally ill therefore I cannot mentally think; therefore I only think myself an genius because I am mentally wrong.  But I'm here to tell you there can be something mentally right about an person who has mental illness!).  And in fact I would attribute much of my genius to having to deal with mental illness because it isn't easy to rally my energy toward an certain goal anymore.  Yet I consistently challenge and outdo myself.  I became an genius because I was mentally ill; I was mentally ill because they thought I thought I had become an genius.  It was like an equally balanced scenario; between yin & yan.  And I knew the argument in myself; that I hadn't become mentally ill at all.  That I was actually an person whose character transformation occurred because of what he had learned in University.  Wasn't that the point of an good arts education, anyway?  I wasn't mentally ill because I acted different than other people; I acted different than other people because I was becoming an genius.  And these medical staff were so smart they knew better; that I was actually schizophrenic and my genius meant nothing because it was only me believing in something absurd as an direct consequence of being an mentally ill, handicapped person.  I wasn't able to think logically in terms of whether it was nonsense to think oneself an genius, just for the sole discretion that my behavior may be interpreted in an new and different way.  And so I accepted the argument that I was schizophrenic from my doctor.  But reserved for myself the feelings and reality which appeared to accompany it.  I was smarter because of it and I knew it.  There was an argument left in me which said I was never mentally ill; (and so I was giving myself credit for being an genius as the result of my mental illness when at the same time there was part of me which didn't believe I, myself am mentally ill) that I had only suffered the effects of being an genius in an closed society who was not responsive at all to my individuality.  And the transformation of my character that indeed had happened during my lifetime meant they (my medical examiners) were responsible for my misdiagnosis.  That I in fact had no part of my mind which was schizophrenic and I was in fact an genius living under the disguise of mental illness.  (Though I have to admit the medical benefits are worth it).  But I was safe from concluding my undeservedness because nobody would believe I wasn't mentally ill.  I was such an odd schizophrenia case and patient.  Like no other!

    And so I had resolved myself to the conclusion, that even though I was schizophrenic and it caused me some confusion sometimes, this didn't necessarily disprove that I was an genius or that the experience of schizophrenia helped to be an genius in such an way.  I had undergone the transformation that is associated with being an bachelor of arts.  And it had freed my mind and expanded my awareness in critical introspection and self-reflection practice.  (Specifically I had been trained in Freudian theory; now wasn't this an ironic destiny to be accused of being mentally ill for repressing something when that was the study I had specifically undergone in my university research).  And it might be true that the way these medical practitioners had interpreted the person who I became; was evidence of their own deficits of character for being unable to interpret me positively.  Which, if they would just open their eyes and look, was easy to do because I was that great of an character.  And so if I was mentally ill and an genius I was both.  I didn't have to explain all of my thoughts and thought processes as uniquely either symptoms of mental illness or demonstrations of intellect and personality.  What they thought to themselves was going crazy was actually me going genius at an artistic level.  They misread my arrogance about his towering intellect (I the person in flesh) which was actually not egotistically outside of meticulous calculation.  I my pride and ego were too larger-than-life for them to have been caused naturally.  Outside the box of their own thinking.  So that it caused them to think of me within this negative framework which eventually lead to my diagnosis.

    It wasn't me who let them in originally.  They took control of me and broke in with their silence.  They broke in with their need to control me; to make into an anonymous nobody with nobody special or dear to them.  To them maybe I deserved it; but I knew I didn't.  I didn't deserve to be an pariah to everybody.  I didn't deserve to be forgotten, like just another face in the crowd.  But here I was; what they had made me.  An mind broken into.  An brain swirled around with an Egyptian fork.  Thoughts that were (through an process of intellectual warfare) taken over.  Sabotaged.  By an force from the outside causing this new pattern to erupt.  My thoughts are not my own sometimes but like an hijacker was responsible for them instead.  (But don't worry I always have full control over my behavior and I am in fact an peaceful person).  It was just my own unwillingness to break into their minds which made them want to break into mine.  And now I speak of thought saboteurs like it was an thorough explanation.  Something (someone) wrecks my thought so I can't have it anymore.  There is always something needing to be doctored and yet none of my doctorate efforts, no matter how many I make of them, will end that feeling completely.  Or it exists in an new, nerfed, form that I need to take an different approach toward.  There is nothing I can willingly do to stop this.

    Foucault appears to offer an historic timeline in which confession became scientif-icized and thus took on new properties and terms that could be linked to it.  Confessing became something that was okay to do scientifically (without any of the religious hypocrisy) and un-confessing became an component of an perfect art form.  If one could use his or her art to unconfess it would prove to be more entertaining than watching the silly melodrama of people confessing in the old style, like it had anything to do with religion of that type anymore.

    I cannot confess in this old style and maybe for an moment even I am unable to confess even in that new, scientifically exacted and futuristic style—and indeed this may be my biggest flex when it comes to what I have to un-confess about.  If I have adopted Foucault's style and said confession was now an scientific activity then it was both okay for me to confess or un-confess as was my whim and lifestyle.  I didn't have to be associated with an ancient religion.

    (Remember, I have never not un-confessed as part of my lifestyle.  It's just that maybe we had never had the words for it before.  I had never used this specific word un-confess to describe anything before.  But that didn't mean I was an confessing pissant who only defined confession in aged invalid versions of religion as something specifically Catholic.  I had always been in control of my confessions and who I told them to; and they were never just an religious version in which I didn't increase my art science to it.  And in fact I preferred un-confessing, now that I thought of it, because I always had done.  This.  Without maybe knowing an word for it or an way to use an word to describe it.  And I had waited this long until after reading Foucault, to understand and learn this new definition of what an confession could be!  Not only that, but I had waited this long to talking about un-confession and what on Earth it could mean when we considered its total meaning).

    Un-confession wasn't the knee-jerk reaction to having had an confessional period in your life.

    It was an calm and consistent focus of the benefit of character; something I had always done and had always been allowed to do.  Not praying to you for forgiveness but making you demand something from me so that I had something impressive to do socially.  If I honestly and deliberately un-confessed something, it was you who would demand forgiveness from me.  And I was also probably familiar with the scientific definitions of confession as an child; I had in fact lived my whole life with confession and un-confession both within the right focus of mind and character.  I was so impressive that I had another way of doing things which didn't necessarily rely on you and other people who didn't need to be codependent with me because I wouldn't let them.  I didn't need you to interpret the situation for me like an mansplainer.  I had my own definition of it.  I didn't need someone to tell me I was impaired because of an childhood situation in which I wasn't allowed to confess nor to un-confess.  And this in fact represented what an repressed mind would look like.  Someone who hadn't been able to find an scientific definition of their need to confess themselves perhaps in order of further and further sophistication; and someone who neither tried or had anything to brag about.  And I was saying I wasn't like that because I had never needed to repress an urge to confess anything; neither had I needed to repress an urge to un-confess something.  And it wasn't like me who was like that in character.

    But mostly I had things to un-confess about because I was such an great person and character.

    And so just let it go that you had any preconceived notion about was wrong with me because of the alleged transition between open church confession and an new scheme of which featured both confession and un-confession but in undeniability of their superior form; half because of science and the other half because of art.  One could make art of confessing something as well as art of un-confessing something, couldn't one?

    And what would they look like, huh?

    I was in fact so far advanced beyond needing to be taught these things that it was unreasonable I hadn't internalized them in childhood.  Confessing meant, in an gender-equality society, that there was something scientifically wrong with you but as an child you know there is nothing which counts as scientifically wrong exactly.  It didn't need to involve your opinion when it came to determining whether an confession was an real confession or not.  There either was or wasn't something wrong with you.  There either was or wasn't something wrong with you that you needed to vocalize.  It didn't matter what the sin-status of the confessor was anymore.  In fact there was no sin.  It was purely about grave destiny and needing to ask for help for something you realized, internally, was wrong with you.  And how exactly to measure and observe its presence through scientific method.  But if I was un-confessing and internally it didn't have to do with what was wrong with me so much as what was right with me: I found there also the factor in determining whether an real un-confession was science.

    How could I measure and observe (playing the scientist) what un-confession meant when it was happening all around me; science detected it! people everywhere finding it in themselves to put the old ways back in the past where they belong.  Becoming people who would un-confess so profusely convincing you to believe them.  I looked at the T.V.  I looked out my window.  Yep, un-confession was everywhere; and people love it.  They loved it so much they even criticised that maybe un-confession wasn't the right word for it because it tended to put things in an negative framework right off the bat, instead of characterizing what the Author was trying to do by putting it into an positive framework.  Maybe un-confession could just be called something instead, like laughter.  Teasing.  Feigning cuteness.  Threat level.  An rap all-star.  Nicki Minaj.  And yet, as the Author I wanted to keep the word un-confess not to mean just the opposite of confessing but also to indicate something other than just the limitations of what something opposite can be.

    It was in the pride of the description of something maybe; this less-than-feat less-than-dare quality of achieving something un-confession.  And yet there was still some element of the pleasure left in it; at after having accomplished un-confessing something.  Something you weren't sorry about.  Un-confession could be an whole mood.  An vibe that lasts longer than an few minutes.  You would totally throw yourself out there and derail yourself un-confessing (but it was an good thing and helped you blow off steam an lot of it).  I was this intense kind of character whose job it was to know this.  I felt better when I am of that mood of telling you what I have to be proud about.  Wouldn't anybody prefer that over having to confess something?  Every priest in history had gotten this wrong.  The Christiannan priest stepped in as the new model.  Someone who knew when to confess, when to un-confess.  Except not needing to confess anything at all, that was the mark.  Of an healthy, scientific lifestyle.  We wanted characters eventually to find that peace and surmise; that they didn't have anything necessarily to confess anymore.  But we wanted more rappers who could boast at an un-confessional level; boast about more than just their rap.  Exploring new genres and artists.  We searched in Rap and Hip-Hop for the answer of how to un-confess something professionally.

    I wasn't just good at this thing I had to un-confess about; I was masterful at it.

    It had grown somehow beyond hip-hop; and I was relaxed and cool in every environment I happened to be in.  Okay some of it doesn't rhyme or having been to say it in English I was able to articulate it at accelerated and warp-drive speed.  But who was I?  Who did I think I was to try to verbalize all of it like an talented musician?  Sure, I could say it in English, but it would take more time than you think and really, all of it belongs in an book moreso than out on the street.  I was un-confessionally on the subject of some other type of music other than rap; and that was where I shined the most.  I wasn't an rapper and so I adopted this practice of identity more akin to say, Florence and the Machine; or any of the other types of music other than rap that had floral expression in the sounds of their music.

    I could un-confess at an musical level higher than rap.

    And you say, what is your meaning then if rap is at an level below you?

    And I would say, simply because rap is the simplest kind of lie you could tell.  Whereas all the other lies are having fabulous for dinner.  And if this is not an accurate description of rap; well then I direct you to the meaning of the word rap itself.  (Perhaps the true definition of all rap, then, is closer in definition to what I mean when I say un-confess).  Tell us exactly why you don't have an rap sheet.  Be proud of everything you are.  Take on new identities to challenge people not to pre-judge their virtues too.  Become what everyone is crucifyin' about these days just because they don't think their own hatred has any value in opinion.  Become the agent to prejudice who points out everyone's flaws of character where they don't have an particular kind of respect for an character whom they should respect but they don't because they are prejudic-ial.  They actually think that any kind of identity that I could take for myself is intolerable and shouldn't be allowed politically.  Where everyone else has been pushing so hard for equality between the gender & the sexes; they were pointing out narcissistically how an type of character was invalid because they didn't believe themselves to be able to be that type of character.  We want all identities that people could take for themselves to be thoroughly artisan and prosperous in their own degree of success.  We couldn't allow anybody to be prejudiced against any certain type of individual identity because they were all fair.  Including my egotistical pride and self in my confidence.  To an doctor.  Like Virginia Woolf.  And any adequate performance of behavior was fair.  

    We look for it and can find it in other examples of music than just rap.

    Un-confessing is an part of culture.

    We want more of it.  It is an mark of freedom and the power of the individual voice.

    And so my final form of my prayer must be to aid with the un-confessing part of it; the logical arguments of such which allowed other people to empathize and relate to me.

    Things I can un-confess about: I have an wonderful family, the best grandmother in the world, and I have my bachelor's degree in the Arts.  I am from an small town but I lived in the city for an long time: I grew up there.  Near the industrial park.  I snuck into the train depot.  I walked the rails.  Sat under the concrete traffic overpasses and stuff.  I blew the northern dandelion off of the stem when it turns to fluff in the metropolitan park.  I was not wise until I became wise.  God lifted me up with his wings.  I became an citizen of the global metropolis this way.  But I couldn't find love and nobody would love me.  God had to take drastic action, giving me an mental illness so that I could learn to serve him with the knowledge of my own experience.  Now I was an emo with an walkman.  In the paved walkway outside the sound barriers of the city.  Where I could take in the sound of as much motor activity as I wanted.  The city was my adventure park muse.  Even though opinion-wise I would never say inhabiting an city is any kind of adventure.  I had studied under some of the best professors on Earth & Artists.  They prepared me to make my contribution to the humanities.  Through great suffering, I gained supreme wisdom.  I scanned the pavement.  I asked the monolith of urban industrialism to serve me.  I asked to gain friends this way.

    I am an son of the energy sector.

    I rely on technology I don't understand.

    When I un-confess about how great an writer I am; and all of the levels of post-doctorate psychology I can master.  I felt that I was sure I knew what it meant to doctor something as an Ph.D. status citizen and I had imagined for myself an stage beyond that doctorship, which was more advanced, under an whole new verb.  If it was possible to do something other than doctoring something at an level advanced beyond mere doctorship, then I knew ten or twelve of them.  And how each one of them worked in the human psychology.  This is how much I have to un-confess about.

    But an part of me suspected I must be insane to think I am twelve times more advanced than an Ph.D. Doctor.  The post-doctorate ability as it turns out is the story of stories.  How to tell the story or an story about telling stories.  And since this is beginning of it, it sets the whole rest of it into motion.  The beginning of an story is when everything, which is at rest, becomes put into motion at once.  And all factors and variables related to it in all its glory were reasonable factors to think about.  The story of stories is an metaphor for the ability to perform the post-doctorate verbology.  You would profess that stories can have stories in them; and that the real nature of stories was busy with order-action; not chaos.  And then, people realizing this is true, begin to ask themselves well which story do I live in or belong in now?  Am I an story within another story; or am I the main story in which there are other stories?  When you can distinguish between the main story and the embedded stories you have its main power as an narrator.  And it means you can post-doctorate-ize material.  The story of stories is an focus test: it asks us which story is it?  The one inside or the one out-apart?

    Each was its own dimension; each had its own specific realities.  There was, categorically, nothing different between them.  They were stories, and they were stories about stories, and so they were still all stories.

    Then, after the story began, there is an second middle; the second middle to the first middle which appeared at its (time's) beginning.  And life is focused in middles, which are true form of everything that exists.  To have an middle means to have an beginning and an end.  And so the beginning implies the end in some ways.  Everything in motion will return to rest.  This is the energy of an object.  Eventually nothing will survive.  Unless we choose to look at middles in terms of faith.  We have faith the object has an middle because we know its beginning and its end (and our brains are in fact expert at identifying this logical material: the beginnings and the ends of things the brain is already identifying because it has logical intuition to know visually the shape of these objects before-hand).  Also weights, measurements, and the value of all things must be refocused according to these implied and virtual middles or real ones because that is the closest we can get to serving consciousness economically.  Look at it like everything you know has an middle to it.  What is the value of everything again, when we refocus it like this?  How do we calibrate or re-calibrate our cognitive array according to an perceived value to all things?  Aren't middles an little more valuable than their outer extremities?  Because without an middle, which is the thing between the beginning and the end of an shape of anything they could not exist; and it is only by virtue of having an middle that they have an middle in time that can be observed and measured.  Its width, its height, its depth all depend on it having an middle.  An type of thing that the human brain is an expert at picking up on.  We imagine these middles all around us as stationary places.

    The next further-than doctorate was the stationary place of being an story; and not one of the stories inside of an story being an story.  It was just fixed; it was just an fixed place.  There was no double-reality fuck-over about its being and existence.  Just pure story language which didn't rely on other stories for their inspiration.  Stories that could separate themselves from that and tell themselves.  Tell them in the best way they know how!  If I was to go about further-than post-doctoring you I would anchor you in an story world in which there could be no other stories that would be told within it!  It had to be solid; it had to be concrete in this way.  It was the best I could give you at the level after story about stories.  Instead of being about stories.  It's just about the one.  The one long story that makes up most of our lives.  What we would be willing to do to serve out that long story; and delight in each one of its fascinations as scientific information that hadn't been thought of yet.  Artists are the biggest scientists, so they say.  And if I was going to plant you into that reality in which there was only one story; and there weren't all the other.  I would probably tell you about the option to populate the story world all around the main character either scientifically or artistically but the best thing to do would be to combine them in order to make an new version about something.

    And then, the fact of an element of the story, Element, was something real appearing within the story realm.  And Element was known as the fourth type of post-doctorate because it represented the property of something corporeally existing in time and space.

    Element could be an verb.  To element.  To consist of matter.

    The emergence of material out of space (out of nothing).

    The actual existence of something.

    As an property of the story of which one is telling.

    An land.  An providence.  An hunk of rock; an planet.  Supernatural existence in the known universe.  The actual property of something that exists.  And I am here so small against it; just another level of doctoring proficiency in which you realize the element, the property exactly of your story (of what your story comprises physically).  It's some space-metals and junk from the corners of space which have traveled to reach here where it is I live.  Having all been mixed up together, there was the possibility that anything could happen.  In an entirely new story, each one their own, each time.

    The fifth subject of post-doctoring materialism is an related concept; something related to that first fact of existing which you had identified in some piece of matter.  When you can draw an line between these two things (beginning and end) within the concept of an story realm, you start to fill out the definition of what it will finally look like.  That's why the sixth doctoral position is always about the consequence of those first two things.  What happens because both of them exist.  And this is the prime motivator.  The consequence can be either good or bad.

    Consequence, you see, is an superior category on the paradigmatic relationship between the first and the second things ever to have happened within the story universe; instead of just having the first and the second thing to have an result (an third thing) just because both are existing you have an specific type of relationship.  Something of an judge's spell, consequence is an fate that you (an moral subject) judge.  And not just an experience and awareness of there being both an first thing and an second thing; consequence is not subject-less but the result of some moral command of the will which one has enacted with oneself.  Therefore you have humans.  Instead of one and two and three things; you instead of have an result, have an consequence of the first two things (itself of which may not be the third thing).  Instead of just the result of the first two things existing you have an character who judges between them (and so if there is any reason to conduct logic that one and the second cause each other it will be taken up with God) and last things being implied in what is existing because of them.  Something morally rationally to do with reason.  Something that had to be judged good because an relationship could be taken up with it; an fate that it was up to you to decide whether it was an good result of the nature between the first and second things; or not (it was an bad result that needed to be taken up seriously).  Consequence was an moralistic concern, rather than an determinist recording of history.  (One thing is related to another; therefore the first thing and the second thing produce an moral result in the human as an result of them both existing).  And not One thing is related to another; and therefore I must decide morally between them what is to be the consequence of both of them having both existed.  Consequence was the moral result of having considered the two things,  and to have judged for the fact of whether it was good or bad; the first and second events, reacting to one another.  In an ever-constant and will-full mind which already knew the factor of the last thing occurring being imprinted on the basics of the first things occurring because, as one always knows, having an middle depends on having its beginning and its end.  Divided or multiplied upon one another; which results with the creation of an new whole thing in time.  

    Pace.  The knowledge you know because of music.  Becomes an seventh factor other or different than doctorship yet within the same series I have created.  It is an thing for all of us to follow because it is the rhythm within our blood.  The vibrational frequency of our own person and self.  Pace is needed for all things to get by.  To live.  An sense of rhythm; indicates an sense of beat.  Beat we all need to survive.  What could we not be if we we weren't an musical species?  When one was "doctoring" or "whatever-verbing" at an seventh level, Pace, then what one was in fact doing was helping other people feel their own bodily rhythm and guiding them back to that pace of life which is within their blood; their pulse; their heart.

    Field study.  The observation of the playing field before you; and you taking into account your own physical adjustments to its logic.  You take into account everything which factors into that field as an study of what you will need to do manoeuvre-wise later.  It will depend on the pace insomuch as the pace is the arrival of an opportunity to take into full account the field and all its attributes.  While one's arrival at an pace can lead to departure at an certain different pace; all obstacles and structure embedded being taken into account.  Which is to thank for its advancement.  An eighth level of doctoring something; with an different verb meaning something more to do with field-recursiv-ity investigation.  The fact of creating something into an field from an mere pace; actively designing your own passage through its complexities.

    An plan to execute.  An antagonist to defy.  These are the nineth and tenth levels of sophistication.  The eleventh must be its appropriate touch down; landing of the plane and enterprise.  An plan exactly executed of how it will all end; an ten out of ten not an failure.  Quick work made out of it.

    And then maybe after that; I don't know of an twelfth level or more to levels of sophistication.

    And perhaps it was all meant only to bully the original profession and act of being able to doctor something.  That I had added on perhaps eleven or twelve other activities onto it; that were unique in their own right for being able to play with time and imminent reality.  In an way more advanced and unlike an doctoring procedure.  This was, I felt, part of the source of my intelligence.  I had such an advanced mind that I was able to figure of ten or eleven other things more advanced than doctor in the hierarchy of academia.

    No wonder I had already finalized the fantasy advancement of my own post-university campus in the fantasy literature of my creation.  An place where everyone already knows how to tell an version.

    It was an source for disabled and non-disabled persons alike.

    And yet the university was too; do you see how it is built on top of it, as an societal structure‽

    At the Version academy, everybody is post-university; and so they will have to keep track of their versions and one another's for themselves.  Versions were basically what they are in English already; the different ways that people tell things.  But at the version academy and elsewhere, perhaps, it is given that they have more value as an commodity than we may at first have realized.

    And however I had enhanced it to deem an whole community of truth; an Version academy was where everyone knew their versions and they in fact studied one another's versions together.  They were even able to tell one another's versions and to develop their own sophisticated arguments.  This meant that anybody who could not tell their own version was not allowed to study at their campus.  It was an necessary discretion; we wanted people, even handicapped people, who could tell their own versions to study at the Version campus.

    One figures it will need to be tested, as an requirement; for an person's ability for telling their version of the story (whatever story it happens to be about).  How exactly will an person be tested on their ability to tell an version about something?

    The more an person has repressed the less their ability to tell an certain version about anything; and other factors of consideration?

    There will have to be, one expects, an instance of an person telling their version in the presence of the examiner whom will determine whether their version was adequate enough to be counted among those of the higher authority of the Version academy.  And so an way of grading it will be needed.  How does one grade others on their ability to tell their own versions?

    We know it for what it is when one knows an person is capable of telling their version with confidence; and in emphasis we know it for what it is.  An able-bodied person telling their own common room performance; with the abilities of others to be there.  One would think, when one stood at the gates of Heaven, what was the story of how it all went?  And this would be your version.  An important story thus to educate yourself and to know about.  The Hero, the Protagonist; what other kind of archetypes did you self-relate as thus?  Or what were other people's versions and how were they right or wrong?

    My version is that I am of the capability of Heaven, whatever my bodily status is.  And that is because I have won it from God by stealing God's heart; to have been proclaimed an office employee of God's heaven.  And I knew specifically what type of office employee I was.  I was the new reciprocal theorist.  An person who had authored his own political theory.  An person whose relationship to you was already decided upon by power relations with an third person of God; everything you saw and thus took in as experience about me was deliberate, intentional and I in fact had programmed in and designed some power over it.  How you experienced it within your own mind thus.  But I could come down to the community level where it would be okay for us to talk about the New Reciprocity further.

    Since I was an new reciprocal theorist, I did have one specific demand (in an political theory about demands) that you accept in yourself that I am an new reciprocal theorist; which is meant as an order because that is what it is and that is what it does.  I am ordering you to make out of me an new reciprocal theorist; or if you already see that then to leave me alone.  It's not an big demand, but it is specific.  What does it mean that I order you to make out of me an new reciprocal theorist?  That you identify me with New Reciprocity and the collection of new reciprocity from one another.  What does it mean to collect new reciprocity from another?  To talk about anything new that has to do with your reciprocity with other people / all people?  It's more just about how these matters go; of how you've decided to make an order or an demand to ask of somebody.  Or that you've decided to accept or reject from someone else demanding, ordering you around‽  And then more talk with charismatic others about how you might try it again.  Or how to practice new reciprocity with one another directly.  And all it meant was me asking you to think of me as an new reciprocal theorist because that is what I was.  An demand.  Plain an simple.  That's what an political theory is designed for, isn't it?

    But how is it that you obey the demand and guarantee its function as an reciprocal demand that has value since you've obeyed the demand: you are in fact also recommended to make your own demands because those also / in addition have their own value.

    Tit for tat.

    This is the logic and philosophy of the New Reciprocity.  Demands in exchange for demands.  And not like it's some weird alien political thing; though politics can also (and necessarily) be about aliens.  In the New Reciprocity, we say that in exchange for you giving me all of your political demands of me and news about how you are being reciprocal with somebody; I will give you all of my political demands for you!  What an lucky duck!

    And it is, at base, basically this one: that I am an new reciprocal theorist according to you.  That I have the freedom to be able to choose how I want to represent myself.  And this is all I ask of you immediately.

    The New Reciprocity is not meant to be some huge undertaking on your part.

    It took me an huge undertaking to develop it; but now you can benefit from what I've learned.

    Versions sometimes include demands.

    One needs to become an expert for picking them out because we are globally saturated in them every day by news media; these mere descriptions of things that sometimes pose as cleverly written or said orders, demands, occupations.  In order to make exactly clear what our intentions are.

    Therefore an good Version academy will also have an professional Political Science faculty in which people will study what parts of their own versions happen to be orders.  And to be part of something that cannot be fulfilled without an political investigation and the exercise of power.  Orders that we give to one another just happen to be extensions of socializing and social activity sometimes.  In these particular cases we will need to research them fully.  In order to find out exactly what it is, that our human heart needs to know about itself.  In order to make an politically informed decision.

    And if you figure you yourself already have an pretty good version of how things go; you may not want to involve yourself or be part of how orders and demands are socialized.  And yet you may learn more something about them for doing so.

    Versions include orders and demands sometimes because that is how you really politically feel about an situation.  You have been stretched to the limit to have been made to feel that it is necessary for you to order someone to do something.  And since you have no other guidance on this; you don't have an New Reciprocity to call upon; you aren't prepared for them to make their own demands of you in exchange for having bossed them around like it was an ordinary habit of behavior to reverse things so suddenly.

    And so, in closing, I suppose my final prayer is to be able to tell my version even if it means ordering people around sometimes.  It's hard not to want to avoid conflict but it is so important in society to be able to tell your own version and be assertive that refusing to do it or avoiding it somehow is scrutinized, and even frowned-upon.  You are entitled to have your own feelings.  Even if it requires you to become an bigger person than you are or to find out an new way to tell someone what you think about what they should do.  And since versions sometimes include orders and demands; I can also include those orders and demands I have reserved for God.  (There are none).  Of course obviously I cannot boss around the deity.  God is God; and God controls everything, maybe, except human will power.  Though It/He/She/They/Them exerts quite an power over our imaginations.  I would have no orders or demands to make of God in the perfect philosophy of mind; and since I am there this is the ideal condition for an type of thinker as me to take the helm.  An human being without any internal demands or orders to make of one's own deity.  Just how I like them.

    Someone who can recognize that God is not something you just bully around.  Complaining, "why didn't you prevent such and such an evil?  Why didn't you intervene‽"  When for all you know, God did intervene but chose to keep it mysterious.

    In fact there can be no way to bully him/her if you are human because all humans are like that.  We aren't so fantastic and extra-ordinary in the cosmos per se; not high up on the status-meter with God at all really.  But some strange moralistic fusion of genetics from possibly many different genetic types from an far flung region of outerspace that might actually go extinct from polluting their home planet or failing to move to interstellar performance of the handling of raw materials.  Even an lack of scientific advancement might spell the end for humans when it has brought them such convenience in their lives.  And they will never reach the Internal City of the whole universe: the most heavily populated area at the centre of our universe.  Some of which the middle has not occurred necessarily in time yet.  What mere chance did humans have to exist in that universe?  If they could study and learn everyone's versions at the Version academy they might even be able to advance further and further scientific arguments.  Even though learning everyone's specific new reciprocal commands was to be treated with vigour and academic erudition.  It was considered fashionable to know one's own demands and one another's demands for society.  They could be egotistically explicit and there was no artificial taboo about what an political order meant and what it was.  However some people would never obey others (even if you gave them an reciprocal command: an order that was meant to be explicit and understood as exactly that, an order one gives to another).  Reciprocal commands were how the logic of my political theory continues, and so I have to wonder, if you were to think of it, do you have any reciprocal commands of me too?

    We cannot even going about telling each other what to do let alone God him- or her-self.  What makes humans think they are so powerful as to strike the bell on the hammer-strength midway game at the carnival fair?  There are so many other species and beings in existence that we haven't discovered yet, and they are at the centre of the universe, were we were may to be there, if we are logically aspirant and bright enough to save the Planet, where the deep orange setting sun would set in and guide us through the most recreationally successful event that has ever occurred just yet.

    Humans were just an random locale out in the ever-infinite cosmos (the size of which we have no real general sense of); and there were in fact other, thousands other, planets with their own peoples on them.  And some of them were so glorious in fact as to work for God him- or her-self; as the most cherished by God species ever.  And there were so many of them, bright and glorious, who made up that community of God.

    (But everywhere in the cosmos is like this?  And we all do have the honor of serving God, even the lowly species, such as homo sapiens for this is the extent of our purpose in outerspace, is it not?  And so we have faith that God will win out in the end for us eventually and we won't be so universally threatened). 

    And in fact right now and with each and every moment we have an chance to score on that hammer bell.  To be the strongest and most powerful above all species ever anywhere in the cosmos.  An evolutionary line that will inevitably develop and circumscribe into the centre of time in the cosmos; the point at which all of the peoples from every corner of the universe become joined in presence and trade route.

    Of course it might never happen; but what would it mean if we actually took steps to prevent it (self-defeat), or we just got lazy and didn't want to have an big middle of the universe.  Which explained better its existence than the Big Bang Theory.

    It didn't matter where in the universe we were; it just mattered that it was home.

    Home is where the heart is.

    And this was made proven by God for God could be anywhere.

    That's why everywhere could be anywhere.

    We could serve God without needing to be transported to him or her.

    God was everywhere; God was that power in the Universe.

    The reason for everything's existence.

    We could, you know, compete for rivalry with those other great species of whom were said to be in the classification system of the universe; those other 'people' who had grown from typically considered lesser species; and some who had even grown beyond being 'people' exactly.  Those sapientio-morphs who had advanced intellectual thinking and activity.  Something beyond what we could necessarily imagine about humans.  But humans were in the standing.

    Of course we were somewhere in the standing.

    We might not be at an office-of-God level of it; but we were somehow lesser, subject to one another's reciprocal commands including mine, which had demanded that you consider me an new reciprocal theorist.  And people everywhere I knew were like this; not at an professional level with God but merely just humans who were subject to reciprocity and its reciprocal command.  It meant, basically, that you would reciprocate endlessly without needing to have lost each other because your voices and purposes were connected in the order of the cosmos.  We could, basically but not generally, give one another reciprocal commands and we would obey them if we asked enough or in an specific type of way.

    And I residually wondered, had you understood my orders and commands; or were you prepared to start giving me your own?

    Megalomania and delusions of grandeur are the primary convictions held against my person; I think I am actually smarter than an average Ph.D. and yet I acknowledge in myself the presence of schizophrenia.  Why are they necessarily not mutually exclusive?  Just because I am living with schizophrenia doesn't mean I can't be an genius.  And yet just because I think I have post-doctorate education sorted out I might find in myself an piece an cake.  Someone confident who knows what to do.  Not an mis-prescribed megalomaniac who thinks he can be that intelligent without necessarily being an megalomaniac.  It's just that I expect an certain level of social aptitude and competence from my immediate others.  That doesn't make me an monster.  But most of all, it hurts my feelings that doctors would say my intellectual thoughts do not matter even for their caliber because I am mentally ill.  And that's how they know I am mentally ill.  I am wrong in what I think, and this is what allowed them to diagnose me.  I was an person who couldn't be made right anymore.  And so an medical practitioner had to disagree with everything I thought because it was all bogus.  But I suppose I have them to thank, that even for all of this difficulty and questioning I had for myself, in the end it really meant they had agreed to take care of me.  An benevolence that was ultimately more helpful than it was disabling.  And why wouldn't it hurt my feelings to be talked about and to be described this way; when I had put so much work into my thoughts themselves and understanding myself introspectively‽  An sensitive bachelor of the arts.  When now they were telling me I wasn't the introspective person who thought he was right about everything; that in fact my behaviors were symptoms of mega-schizophrenia.  Do you know how bad that felt?  Why I resented my hospital care to the point of denying its plausibility or legal validity.  Everything I had worked to understand and to believe was true was suddenly pulled out from under me after I graduated from university.  And I was said to be mentally insane by physicians who knew nothing about my focus of study and what it had to do with the supposed diagnosis of schizophrenia.  Was it too much to ask now, that I could reclaim an bit of identity, an piece of dignity for myself, that it was possible for me to have an mentally healthy thought; and in fact my writing was abundant proof that I did have these thoughts.  That I could logically connect them and string them together in order to explain something reasonable.  Couldn't you just accept that?

    I pray, please bless my memory for when creating such diverse subjects as these which I have been writing about; I tend to use an different set of vocabulary terms completely between them.  And I remember the Wisdom that an word will pop into my memory.  If I had the Wisdom of what it meant; then it would pop into my head and mean what it meant for me.  If it was the right word for the situation and I knew it, then it would appear.  And sometimes when thinking about different subjects even if I wanted the word to come to me it wouldn't.  That was because it wasn't the right word.  I had to think of an other one.  An different one.  I could remember an lot of words, but to some extent, they were the ones remembering me, re-thinking me, controlling me with their opinion.  I couldn't use them unless I meant it.  And since I didn't mean it, they wouldn't come to me.  That was what was tricky about language and producing language.  My ego was assured on this concept.  It had its own subjectivity somehow; it wanted to name things that were around him or her.  It wanted to give its essence to the problem of naming what were the things around me?   Centre noetique (an internal locus of control).  I wanted to be able to call up any word I wanted on command, but they would never come to me.  They had their own subjectivity.  They wouldn't let me know them.

    And that was why; that this was part of their meaning somehow.  You couldn't mean it unless you knew them.  You couldn't know them unless you mean it.  And the definitions of these words you want to use is in part tangled up in how they meant meaning in as much as one possible way.  Being them and knowing them meant meaning them.

    You cannot have words you do not know the meaning of.

    And so I pray, even when I don't remember the word exactly I was looking for, that I know some kind of word of which to apply to the situation.  And in fact there are many kinds of words you can apply to the present.  But that the words that I do think I mean somehow; and this goes into how I am knowing them.  Centre noetique meant the centre of all possible consciousness within one human subject as an subject of an topic of conversation with an observer.  There was an crowd internally psychologically that had gathered over the subject of an possible centre to the consciousness within one living human subject; they wanted to know exactly if it could be located in the psychology of one living person.  And they were discussing why for some possible reason it had appeared red to them in their psychology.  If the centre was red, psychologically, then that tied into an emotion that was linked with red.  There was such an range of feelings in that category, in the red.  Love, Emotion, Passion, Anger, Rage, Living Respiration and Animacy, Feminist Purpose Being Fulfilled, Encapsulation of Everything Which Came Before.

    Words you know because you become part of their purpose when you learn them.

    That's why and how you are able to call them up out of the ether.

    And you cannot have an definition of an real word without being what it means yourself in part.

    And that's the deepest explanation of English I can possibly think of.

    You give your emotional self to an word, in order to let yourself become what it means; and then you remember it because you had done so.  You had allowed yourself to become more English.  And that's why English deserves to remain an global super power.  It helps liberate people from not being able to become the definition of certain words which were peculiar to their situations.  The best way to remember an word, then, is to have understood it deeply.  You become the emotion and the carrying forward of the word as an emotional concept with an purpose and an fashion inside the emotional system of an person, yourself.  And you have won that word because you analyzed it deeply enough.  What was its intended purpose and message?

    That's why you have remembered its definition.

    You knew what that meant at some point in your life.

    I just pray that I remember all of the words I have ever thought of when I needed them.

    Even if I try to call them up and they won't come, I have faith that I know them on some level somehow and that the reason why I cannot think the full word out in my mind is really just that I don't need it in that particular scenario or situation.

    The centre noetique was an social or political system of identities who were trying to find out and to measure that exact centre of the mind that they all shared and so they could measure the seat of consciousness from their own individual interpretations in collaboration with one another.  The Middle of Consciousness.  The theory was that if they could measure their own deviation from the centre of the seat of consciousness as individual psychologies somehow they could find the social middle of consciousness and make it an powerful social idea somehow.  If people were able to identify the middle of consciousness they may one day be able to identify its parts, and then out of enterprise be able to identify all of the extremity parts on the outside of the middle as well.  The importance of it was that it was an social idea, and they all related to it somehow under the importance of the color red but they couldn't explain why.  Red was the emotional centre.  The color of the Amygdala.  Everything you felt in your blood was located there.  Everything you saw within its crystal was an socially valid concept.  You could even bring up the subject of what you saw there socially.  If you had any anger or rage you might need to output them as soon as possible in an socially responsible way.

    I was angry at women because I wasn't allowed to play on their sports team.

    I was angry at women because of their claim to feminism when it disproportionately disadvantaged me, an woman, who was excluded just because I am an man.  And if you don't get that then F*** you!

    I was angry at myself.  I was an woman.

    Okay hold up here and let me summarize.  I am praying that I remember all those new words I learn by writing because that's why people write things, in part.  To remember them.  If they have disconnected somehow, that language I use when I am writing versus my spoken grasp of English, then I won't necessarily remember them on the fly when I have to improv my presentation of myself in English.  I pray that I remember all of the new words I learn by meaning them somehow.  OF course there are those words which I don't want to mean.  And maybe that's part of my grasp of vocabulary also.  The only reason the words that I don't mean won't come to me is that they don't mean me right now.  I mean other words.  And other things.  Perhaps more glamorous.  Thinking about what words to use requires thinking of words after all.  Just when I see them fall before ever having entered into consciousness I realized that second they are not the right words; and I look outward to seek of those words which then do comprise my situation.  Maybe I'm being too pessimistic of myself.  Maybe I'm not realizing exactly as much as I should about how great of an person I am.  Maybe the words you would use to describe me weren't put downs, of any type of glamorous fine detail, in varying gradations of power and duplicity, varying strengths and influences; they were words you would use to describe an good person.  Someone who was honest, and willing, and intentional about trying to be good.  Someone who sincerely applied themselves to being good without expectation for reward.  One is good because this is the purpose of enjoying pleasure itself; and it feels good to have accomplished something that was done in the name of Good.  I have my first clue that I may remember all of the new words I learn by writing when I need to remember them in the future while I am speaking.  I was an good person.   That's as exciting as it gets.  And so you would apply words to me like protagonist, exceptional, expansive, categorically talented.  I was the person you went to when there was trouble.  I knew exactly what to do.  I saved everyone from being mutton chop.  I prevented the anti-heroes from hurting anybody.  I was an Super Hero.  I was advanced.

    Have I not been clear?

    Yet it happened upon to me in this lifetime I was considered immoral, and an beast among men.

    People didn't understand I was an Heroic figure of person in History.

    They thought I had done things wrong; and that I knew they were wrong and I had still done them.

    But it wasn't true.  I knew precisely why.

    I had saved them from following the messiah in the wrong way.

    They thought it meant to criticize and exclude others from culture in an predatory Social Darwinist way because that was the most accepting thing Christians could do for one another.

    The true way is one of acceptance and inclusion of all others.

    Even if they have different beliefs than you; but acceptance doesn't necessarily mean accepting their beliefs for yourself.

    And, even if generally you thought they were wrong, you accepted them anyway.  You accepted them trying and failing to be like their own Messiah.  Someone who was infinitely accepting and socially liberal on the forward track.

    You're the type of person who accepted that other people could be wrong, as long as they learned how to explain themselves.  And you weren't going to let anyone else make you think what you thought.  You're the type of person who thought, as an child, he saw an terrible wrong had been done in society and yet always sought to help repair it.  It made other people feel bad and so it made me feel bad; and so I had to help to fix it.  And so didn't I have the moral advantage and edge?

    And I felt again that I would solve my conundrum: that the words that I needed would spring to mind when I needed them.  And even if I didn't think I needed them for that situation in particular there they would be for me.  I would always think of the words I needed when I needed them.  This may be the philosophical part of language.  And yet at the same time having finally concluded there were words which I have learned; of which I sincerely needed.  And I wondered and I pondered on this question of what those words may be.  And what was the best way to go about learning them?

    I was someone that other people thought immoral.  Even though they had no reason to.  And I took responsibility for pointing out how they were wrong and how I was right.  That they in fact were the villains.  And I had nothing but good things to say for myself.

    Firstly, they were wrong because I was right and they hadn't shared with me in the same opinion that I was right; and so, automatically, they were wrong right off the bat.  But it was also in how they expressed their characteristics which was wrong.

    Secondly, the entire substance of what they thought I did wrong was insubstantial.  And they didn't understand it from my own perspective, in which it wasn't what I was doing wrong, it was what they were doing wrong.  And I became of that particular personality which would often want to point out how what I myself oneself was doing right.  All of it.  And why that meant everything people who were trying to criticize me about it was wrong.  I was an heroic self-protagonist and why; they were not heroic self-protagonists and why.

    They wouldn't do anything for someone other than themselves; (Though I would say it is balanced to do both at certain times) I would do almost anything for someone other than myself.  I would, egotistically and healthfully, say I would do anything for both myself and other people.  And my philosophy tends to mix them.  These other people I was describing didn't know that about me.  They criticized me for in forthright truth; they said I was an bad character and person.  They thought I would actually do something wrong knowing I was doing it.  They thought I was the one ruining everyone's picnic.  When really it was their own criticism of me, which was unjustified, that was ruining everyone's picnic.  I was, after all, not an type of person who would criticize somebody in that way.  Not knowing at all why they had done so, when there is no evidence to support that kind of logic.  And so is it Logic?  Can we call it logic anymore if it doesn't take us from point A to point B?

    And I turned my own imagination upon the creation of these negative criticisms which have no logic.  In order to make an show of them in order to show you what I see.  My logic was valid because it said they had no way to criticize me (which they didn't) and it was true.  It was fair for me to criticize them for them criticizing me.  They had nothing to stand on.  I did because I had pointed out that one of the things I could stand on had nothing to do with what they thought they could stand on.  It went from reverse to fast forward.  I had an reason for criticizing them; they did not have an reason for criticizing me.  And they should all realize how potent and important an opponent in the creation of meaning I was; there was nothing they could say about me.  Which would besmirch my everlasting resilience and the truth that I did in fact have criticisms in return meant for them; though they could prove not one against me.  And how many there were!  These people who had taken up stance against me for exactly the reason of the fact I was an immoral character.  Yet I was not an immoral character, and maybe they were being an immoral character for claiming it to be so.  And I could prove it to them that I wasn't the immoral person they thought me to be.  I was in fact of an high order of office with God; and I enjoyed daily pleasures associated with an terribly difficult working life.  And I was in fact an good moral character who could be trusted.  And it was in making these empty stakes and claims against me that one really could show their jackass character.  Especially as critics of an disabled person.  They actually sought, publicly, to ridicule me about my point of character, which they had deemed less valuable than them.  And I was the one who was immoral‽  At least I gave them an chance to confirm their convictions.  They didn't afford me any benefit or advantage like it.  And they thought there wouldn't be an consequence because I was of such quality of as like an failing character I couldn't do anything about it if I found them out to be lacking in reason?  What if the consequence was me pointing out their character flaws in order to make an point about my own?  What if, instead of them winning out their way this time, I won out my way; which was seriously that they had no way to criticize me and I could reduce any of their claims to cinders.  And I could in fact use the same momentum and the same energy to criticize them; if they were going to continue to bother me with bullshit why wouldn't I have to point out every reason why they were wrong to do so?  In order to point out my own virtues and capabilities, which were fun and invitational, in order to tower so, demandingly over my enemy; that nobody would ever hazard to think that they would be an fair competition between them should they choose to duel.

    Therefore it was no longer fair for me to try to fend them off; I would dominate them!

    There were so many reasons why I was an good character.  The theory was that if they could measure their own deviation or non-deviation from the centre of the seat of consciousness as individual psychologies somehow they could find the social middle of consciousness and make it an powerful social idea somehow.  I knew about all sorts of things, like theories and ration and logic.  And I actively participated in and gave back to my community.  I was an Artist; quite an massively wonderful thing to be.  I was also about the business of defending the public trust.

    And I was an Republican, so I believed in the inherent genius of its society.  The physical infrastructure of civilization could think for themselves, as it were because knowledge was popular and we knew it was autistic to an certain extent.  Republicans believed in the certain awareness of society, that in general, it populated every area where there were living people.  It was like an sod of seaweed in an cove that, by some ripple effect had been disturbed (this was the awareness of society; when the water started to ripple as though something was disturbed everyone paid attention).  It was the status quo.  The Time and Point of All Reality.  Everywhere, anywhere on Earth, where there would be an disruption of legal business and traffic; had such an disruption.  If it did, everyone all at once would be overcome with the Republican instinct (the will to return from the violence done to the general public).  And, like the fish everywhere whom senses this sensitive little disruption because it was their home habitat and world, we would all react in measure, estimation, and sense to the violence.  And we would do what we can to restore the seaweed bed to its usual undisturbed habitat and environment.  This was republicanism.  Everything had to return to the status quo; if there was an physical disturbance of the environment its status would be returned to peaceful eventually.  As was the will of all of the people.  Everything depended on losing equilibrium and being able to return to equilibrium.  As was the normal status and division of the human behavior, of the behavior of any known life really.

    Re-public-can-ism.  What an cheeky little term.  And I had an hankering to study Sexual Politics and Rights.  When people infringed on my sexual comfort I was set right out of equilibrium immediately.  I became an political component because I had survived it in and throughout the years.  It was something I wanted Republicanism to do for me: I wanted, whenever someone infringed on me sexually, it to correct them.  Automatically.

    There were also the Artisans, who had reached an Third and final level in Humanity: within the Republic existed these Powers.  That there were physical and mental character types on three separate levels, and the third level, the most highest, was the most advanced and technologically powerful of all of them.  People who had mastered republicanism to an third degree.  An undoubtedly masterful performance of all humanity which was impressionable upon the public.  There were also the Psychologists and Psychiatrists whom examined deviant behavior.

    They told me it was true if someone had acted out against me psychologically, then this was technically and universally an deviant behavior.

    I had that much pressure on me, and yet I had to act out as an third level Artisan in order to announce and for people to know they are here.  People of never-ending feelings, whose own feelings for you are the most important ones ever.  Every time you needed them.  And I did in fact live in an world of all these feelings.  Yet I was able to articulate my type of republicanism.  And I wondered how the Psychiatrists and Psychologists would set out, then, to help remove or extract them from society.  All of these people who didn't have any feelings for anyone.  Masochism.  People whose inherent presence scared me; and had traumatized me in early life.  They meant to dominate my sexuality.  And, using it to twist their plans, become good enough for their parents to praise them.  People who used sexuality to inflict upon me as though I had no sexuality.  I had no emotional dilemma.  They were psychos.  They were people out to get me and they had caused an disturbance emotionally.  It was just.  I really hoped the professionals would grab an dirt-devil vacuum and just suck up all of this anti-psychology which had been inflicted into me outside of instinct by an psycho-terrorist, masochistic, "person of non-feelings" which I didn't think existed, unless they were repressing all of their feelings somehow.  Was that even possible, to repress ALL of one's feelings?

    Couldn't somebody just.  PULL THEM OFF ME.  PLEASE.

    Why did people everywhere have to assume that I was interactive with their sexual feelings in an way that their sexual feelings could bend and control mine?  Wasn't that the definition of abuse?  And if it was unwelcome, unwanted then what was it‽  I wanted every person to stop doing this to me.  And if they didn't comply, that itself would be taken up against them.  Why would you not comply with an Lady's command?

    If I said no, I meant no.

    And I could be ready ahead of them, even if they hadn't done it yet.  Even though it was my lady's destination prerogative that I did.

    Why were people always pulling at me sexually and trying to make me behave in their idea of an way of expressing sexuality that when I was interested they pressed further?

    They tried to prove an entire theory or subject of how it was normal and natural to express sexuality everywhere this way.  Even though I had already said I wasn't interested in the subject.  And they pressed further.  And I repeated that I wasn't interested in expressing my sexuality in the way they wanted me to.  And they persisted that their theory was only an theory and it wasn't really meant to express something that all people couldn't naturally do.  So therefore, you would be expressing your sexuality in the same way as everyone else—

    "—But I don't want to express my sexuality in the same way as everyone else!"

    "But that's not what I mean exactly.  I'm saying you can express your sexuality naturally, in the instinctually specific way it has been programmed as an biological specimen.  The part of you expressing your sexuality you cannot control."

    "OK, then," I tried to think through it, "there's part of me which is naturally expressive of its sexuality which is similar to how all human people express their sexuality.  And it isn't part of expressing my sexuality that I have an choice over; I have no say in how it manifests itself in my particular type.  Yet there is that part of sexuality which is always customizable to me.  And this doesn't mix bad energies with how, basically, I am just like every other person with his or her own sexuality of an human type.  Yet there is the part of it that in-so-far I choose.  It is always free to me and unable to be resisted or crushed in battle.  And if they were of those deviant types of characters who sought to do wrong against me in order to Socially Darwinist their prospects; people who had no care of the republic or what people in general think.  People who had sado-masochistic prospects and truth scenarios with me in their mental illness.  People who had acted out against me being an republican or knowing the three levels of republicanism including Minor, Major, and Artisan archetypes.  Who had empowered doctors of the Psychiatry disciplines thus so.  In order to be able to write out and define what, exactly, is superficial about it.  If I could put words to my abuse, which had gone on for an certain number of years in an manner of public, I could put names to my attacker.  My perpetrator.  The person who could run out to do something against me.  They bore malice in their hearts.  Psychologically define-able personality and mood disorders.  An psychological condition in which their acting-out against me was in fact the fact of acting-out against themselves.  It could be behaviorally detained, possibly; reasoned Psychological practices, but that might be the hive-mind making, working its way into everything.  If one person acts out psychologically against another, it is by definition an assault, which is legally legislated against.  It is just an matter of how one defines an psychological attack and why usually sometimes it is an attack on the self; an attack against that empathy drive which makes you feel emotions for other people.  Then who are these people everywhere who I think are abusing me; through the ether I think they have assaulted me sexually and they haven't, and everywhere there are peaceful humans who don't want to crush me.  By disobeying my orders for them over my own sex life, they have harm'd my mind."

    "And how exactly did they disobey your orders for them over, as you said, your own sex life?"

    "I think they might be an delusion."

    "You are wise to think so.  What brings you to that conclusion?"

    "Well, there aren't people everywhere tweeking my sexuality with their own sauce.  And as far as I can tell it is an peaceful town in which people generally respect each other.  If I say no it means no and that will have to be good enough.  Or.  He's not good enough, if you know what I mean!  It's just I'm so used to other people trying to prove their sexuality by being dominate over me I'm always expecting it.  And that goes in part of how I am paranoid.  Yet I am able to reflect on it in fiction also, and so its level of control over my mind is debate-able.  It's just that there are these types of political agents who are out to do me wrong, by disrespecting my sexuality, sometimes in an way that could harm me.  But they weren't everywhere.  And it probably wasn't as bad as I thought it was.  And I expected I would just have to go on saying, every time, no!  No!  No!  I don't want to have dalliance with you!  I don't want to have anything to do with you!  And I would even have to dramatize it until they get it.  They would read every part of my body language incorrectly.  I would have to fend them off again and again.  And yet it probably wasn't so bad because I was realizing that now.  I was paranoid.  That's why I thought there were so many of them.  And yet I was sane (not paranoid) to some extent also because I was adjusting to this now; of the fact of how much I estimated myself to be under its power as an thought (an source of power in the mind).  Paranoia itself was gaining and losing power now, as it appeared to me in an imaginative scenario.  And the crystal of it (which was large and irregular shaped) appeared to be humming gently as its light waxed and waned with each gain and loss of power.  Was it going to lose power completely or go on having some influence over my mind?  I couldn't let paranoia control me!  And yet it had to, to some extent.  Or I would never be prepared for some influence which was had politically over my mind.  I had to be ready in case they were there, out in public, every single time.  I had to be able to dish it out like it was yesterday's lasagne!  No I didn't want to have an sexual experience with you in public.  No I didn't want it every single time you asked.  No I wasn't interested in subscribing to your idea of what expressing one's sexuality means.  And the reason was—the reason was because I had my own way of expressing myself.  And I didn't need an textbook definition of what sexuality means psychologically.  And there were in fact people in society who knew what mental health meant, and were able to use language to distinguish and to identify people who showed signs of psychopathic behavior.  With their combined strength we would be able too root all of them out of society, and thereby protect all citizens from psychological torture (being harmed by another person in any way)."

    And I pondered the scene of this conversation, and what an psychologically all-encompassing authority figure (An republican Psychiatrist or an republican Psychologist) could do about these people who had assailed me thus.  As though there was some safety in this figure, who could take all of the bad news away.  Lift me up into an world of comfort everlasting.  Someone who would crack down on all the lowly creeps of the world.  Forever remove me from their presence in society and the global community.  What an fantasy.

    I had also taken up to playing an game I called Headquarters & Field Agent.  I would roleplay scenarios in which I was at the headquarters (the place where all people reported to), corresponding with the Field Agents, who were so numerous they needed to be checked up on every half an hour or so.  I could of course roleplay the opposite scenario of me being an Field Agent, corresponding with Headquarters, who were all high on their own power comedically.  I described them as Juggernauts because that's what they thought they were; but there were nearly so few of them that none of them were Juggernauts.  And that they thought they were counted methodically against them.

    And so, when I turned my innermost thoughts toward prayer, and attempted to voice to the Creator and the Cosmos what I wanted; what I was afraid of; what I deserved.  I began putting into knowledge-thought the word-thoughts I previously had had.  And the logic of the words I knew and how to put them together was starting to be exercised in that part of my brain which creates and receives knowledge.  Knowledge in my brain was coming to life according to my way with the language as I tended about producing it.  Logic was the first thing.  It was the first thing.  Because logically there is always an second to the first.  And so the First Knowledge is logic.  Logic begets logic, and therefore it can continue in an sequence.  And so there is always an second thing to every first thing and that's logic.  (That's Logic).  If language always obeys the rule of logic, then as soon as I have an first and second word I have already proven I know logic because it is the first type of knowledge; and since I have converted the logic of language into knowledge within my brain (as part of its mechanism, perhaps, somehow) I have begun to learn Knowledge all over again—which is Wise.  And all language I have will go toward creating for myself its new knowledges within my brain.  And I know an lot (much) of language!  And so if I could just start to sort it all out somehow.  But how else to do that than tell an story about it; for telling stories, I would argue are essential for memory creation in the brain.  And telling stories requires having an version about what happened.  Which was also included within the Knowledge of the Logic of the Brain; perhaps the second thing after Logic was storytelling, and they had something important to do with each other.  Storytelling exponentially expanded Logic because it was about everything as an art.  Logic as it applies to everything is the most knowledgeable circuit in the mind one can have with themselves.  An third thing to every first and second thing; infinitely expanding like our universe itself might be doing.

    So, you know, that's what I've been up to lately.

    Becoming knowledgeable and interesting.

    What else did I have to pray about?

    OMG—like so much.

    My health—especially my back, which I had left settled upon as an metaphor for the past and it's condition as the reason why it was hurting.  The past hurt.  My back was everything behind me that was temporally backward.  Since I had repressed the metaphor of the back (the back as an metaphor for everything behind me and thus behind me in time also) there was no way to therapize it at present time.  And then there was the crisis about I how I had never invested enough money in skin care and makeup like some gay men like to do.  Which was instinctually natural to the females of the human species.  I hadn't spent enough on cosmetics in order to be an natural woman whose species would be proud of her; and as an result of my failure I was half of an gay man.  And I could do nothing about it because now I was poor—to poor ever to buy cosmetics any more (except the most rudimentary cleansing routines).  Not that I had an problem with being poor, financially.  I was, after all, mega rich in other ways.  My relationship with God had ripened.  My relationship with knowledge was becoming real.  

    We weren't able to wrangle up all of the anti-republicans into therapy for their mental health.  They were still outside somewhere.  All over.  Busy not being part of an republic.  Being outside an knowledge society, where their freedom cannot be threatened.  Republicanism had three levels; and if I could get the majority to intercede at the intersection of what does and doesn't make an first level of craftsmanship.  Perhaps following it onto out of their hate for republicanism and what it means into real retrospective reality.  People of all kinds were free to practice their novice level skill-manship.  As an official republican status & value.  People within the Abode of the republic were safe from mongerers, who wanted to disrupt the traffic of the civic commodity.  People who wanted outright to attack you at any given moment for being part of an republic being happy where you are.

    Knowledge scared them.

    Being truthful about feelings kept them somewhat unconscious of what was really happening to them.

    The truth you cannot resist because if you do we will know what kind of an creature you are, and it will spell out disaster for you when you confront the messiah.  It is an old magic, of an old old kind; that God wanted wrought throughout the Earth.

    If you lashed out at republicanism you were the threat yourself.

    It hurt us to know this.

    It meant you would actually act out against another person psychologically.  Which was an cancerous form of lying; every action you took maybe is in the effort to subdue someone sexually so that they cannot do the same to you.  And even whether they were aware of it you would take advantage of somebody.  It wasn't so much about physically harming them as it was an game where you used no physical harm in order to inflict damage.  Do you believe in which kind of it exists?  Which was more potent or less underestimate-able, the power of an mind or its physical body?