So now I’m lost in the mire of the process. Stuck in the fog. Well fine, that makes sense. I am a ghost in my own life. Like Casper in a strip club. Intangible, unable to touch and impact the the world around me. I have determined the secret. The problem is that I live in the hands of others. I live in the stories of others and do not know how to walk away and leave those imprisoning stories behind. We live in fictional worlds. We build them from stories that we stitched together. Our lives are huge piles of mongrel atrocities. They are stitched together by Victor Frankenstein on Methamphetamines.
They are stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. Stories we tell ourselves about our place in the world. Stories we tell ourselves about how the universe operates. Stories about the temperament of the Universe and the things in it. Stories can encode information. But how they encode can liberate or confine. It can empower or enslave. And I am not going to sit captive by the stories concocted by Pharaohs and centuries dead would be god kings. I am not going to live by the propaganda made by people who brands serfs or bonded people to the land. I am not going to live by the laws of aristocrats. I will not bow to those who thought they were better than others due to their grandparent’s skill in the art of murder death. But if I am held captive by this story, the real question here is how can I free myself to find another?
And this is where things go like Neo in the Matrix. You take the Red Pill, and you die in the old story. I mean seriously- what do you think happened to Thomas Anderson as far as the people in his life were concerned? As far as they could all tell, he died. And that’s what happens. You die. You exit the old story, and thus you die as far as the people in that story are concerned. And when you re-appear, you are an impersonal alien being. You are a criminal in black trench coat and sunglasses- dangerous and incomprehensible. So to escape the story, you die. Bang bang. And that’s what I’m trying to do. Aren’t I a moron.
Professor Harbinger's School for Villains 