Xmas eve is here again.
Like I expected it to go away just because of the
Bye Bull.
But this is not just any xmas eve; it's safe to say this particular xmas eve means more to me than any since I was a wee one.
For it was exactly one year ago today--tonight/to be precise--that my life changed in oh so many ways.
Even
feel different, in the most intrinsic ways; 365 days ago, I was depressed, aimless and alone--now I'm replete with success, purpose and companionship.
Hard for me to even consider all that's went down from where I was a year ago to where I am now.
Been shot in the face with piss and had a bomb explode right in front of me.
Oh yeah, wrote a book, too. Finished it, more importantly. That it got published and sold in real book stores and made real bestseller lists was less significant than my actually finishing it.
Met two amazing women; both are intriguing and attractive, but only want to spend the rest of my life with one of them.
But all that is to be commemorated later this evening; it's still daylight after all. Planned something special; wouldn't go so far as to call it a ritual, but since I'm going to be alone anyway, figured this was something I should do, to mark the occasion as it were.
Consciously contemplating my solitude triggers another obligation to be fulfilled this evening--calling Cassandra, some 3,000 miles behind me, back in her hometown Boston, celebrating the holidays with her large and extended Irish catholic family.
This holiday, anyway--New Year's Eve she's reserved for yours truly.
In fact, that's the night I think we're finally going to sleep together, though I never like to count those chickens before they're laid.
It's also a night--if all goes according to plan--that I propose to propose quite the proposition to one Cassandra Sullivan.
Weather permitting. DELETEShe's all I can think about these days; which is so hard to believe. I'm totally in love the same year I've gotten a book published and become a real author. All those years I was alone; no woman, no career. Now I've got both.
Problem is, still have to wait an hour (or is it two?) until Cassandra and her family return from their annual family xmas eve tradition of decorating a random coniferous evergreen out in the forests of the Northeast.
Until then, kill the time by sifting through endless emails yet perused from readers
far and wide...
Emerge from one of those naps where you're not sure what time it is. Not like waking up in the morning, when you know it's the morning. Takes me more than a few moments to remember it's late afternoon--and oh shit--have to call Cassandra.
Shit, what time is it? 4:21. Have to jog my memory to recall the schedule of Cassandra and her family; they have to be back home already, all snug in front of a picturesque New England fireplace, exchanging gifts and inside jokes, barbs and subtle insults with an intimacy that only families can share. The jokes and the insults are to offset the solemn, often hokey aspects of holiday get-togethers; a way of taking it less seriously.
Don't want to interrupt that; and besides have to wash some of the sleep out of my eyes, which I do at the bathroom sink.
Ha--even the water feels fresher against my skin than it did a year ago. Maybe they redid the pipes in the building while I was on tour. Or maybe it is me.
Debate hitting the pavement and pumping some fresh air into my lungs, but don't want to immerse myself in the whole xmas culture like I did a year ago, when I was punishing myself.
Have got Ms. Cabal to punish me now.
Or being away from Cassandra, that's punishment enough, I'm finding. Far bitter taste than licking Ms. Cabal's patent leathers.
Pang of guilt sends me to idle the time at the computer, going over emails from readers who want to connect, discuss ongoing issues, ask questions, etc etc.
Been neglecting responding to these, suppose it's all a bit too much following the book and the madness of the whole tour.
Shit, have done more and more has happened to me in the past year than I did and has happened to me in the all the years prior to that combined.
Ah, another email from Ben Chan; like that guy. Says he lives with his uptight family down in Silicon Valley. He's more into traditional Buddhism, but his family are "a bunch of conformist Christians" as he puts it. He said he's thinking of leaving it all behind and moving up to S.F.
Send him a reply of encouragement; this city could definitely use a bloke like Ben.
Also like what I'm reading from this self-described San Francisco dyke named Eliza. She hates xmas and treats xmas eve just like any other day.
One of these days, have to hang out with those two, especially considering how close they are to me.
On the other hand, have Anna all the way in Nebraska; she works as a nurse there in an abortion clinic of all places. Small wonder she's a fan of yours truly.
Anna said she's getting fed up with the heavy-duty christian scene there--she wishes my book tour would've come to Lincoln. Write back only half-joking that more copies of the
Bye Bull would've gotten burned there than in Atlanta!
She's young in her 20's still. On the opposite end of the spectrum, yet completely relateable is Dr. William Tiller, who resides not far from here, up in Arcata. Arcata's a college town, but he writes that he liked being around all that "youthful energy" Says he used to be an abortionists in various parts of the country, and he's been shot, shot at and had his clinics bombed. None of that stopped him, until abortion was outlawed. Law and order gets you every time. He rationalized it an opportunity to do something else with the last chapter of his life at age 65. The only problem is, he's not sure how to fill the pages of this ongoing last chapter, made even more difficult by the death of his beloved wife of 42 years Bunny a few months ago. He misses being a doctor and helping people--even in a relatively reduced role as an gyn/ob
Glance at the clock; it's already past six--meaning past nine in the Northeast. The Internet might be a waste of time, but it sure fucking passes the time. It just has a way of absorbing one into a cyber-dimension that causes one to lose track of the other four surrounding dimensions.
Has to be okay to call her now, nine pm on xmas eve is usually the time when the eggnog begins flowing and things relax.
Open up the email she sent with the phone number and yep--there it is, she said okay to call after nine.
"Hi, Darwin?" she answers. Feels good to hear my name being uttered by a warm female voice that actually anticipates hearing mine in response.
"Yeah, how are you?"
"Good. Enjoying your favorite holiday?" she chides
"Yeah, a thrill-a-minute. But unlike last year, I won't see you this xmas eve."
She hesitates, having to think over what I said until she remembers, remembers that we crossed paths one year ago tonight.
Change the subject: "So how was the annual wild tree decorating excursion with your family?"
"Fun as always, someone brings a casket of brandy and we get sloshed--except for poor dear cousin Julius, he was the designated driver to make sure the rest of our lot got home in one piece to exchange gifts."
"Get any good booty?" I ask with faux greed in my tone
"Some clothes, a couple books, oh and a naughty teddy I think you're going to enjoy when I get back."
"I'm enjoying it already"
She giggles playfully in response. Damn it feels good to have this woman in my life. Icing on the fucking cake to an amazing year.
But still, want her in the flesh. "So...you're flying back in on the 29th?"
"That's right, honey! Five more days till I can see you."
"I'll meet you at the airport and we'll take BART back."
"Sounds perfect--and affordable. That cab I took cost a fortune."
There's a pause as someone on Cassandra's end speaks to her in the background...
"Okay, just a second" she says to the other person, not me. I'm still on hold.
"Sorry about that," she says quickly.
"S'alright."
"So I have to go, we're going to pile into a car, sober up with some coffee if we can find a coffee shop and then hit the midnight mass."
"Mass?"
Can hear her wincing over the line "I know. Do you hate me?"
"No, I don't hate you. Family tradition, I gather?"
"Pretty much."
"I also gather you haven't told them about me."
"Not on xmas. I just told them I'm getting serious with a writer."
Pause
"Now do you hate me?"
"Not if you're serious that we're getting serious. Hell, if I was dating me, I'd probably avoid talking about what I do too. "
"I am. You know, I got so many proposals from the actors and billionaires I provided security for, but I always knew I'd end up with a starving artist."
"As long as I know Ms. Cabal, seriously doubt I'll ever starve, or does that kind of comfort not appeal to your sense of romantic adventure?"
She laughs, "The time I've spent with you has already been adventure enough for several lifetimes."
"Not sure if that should make me relieved or nervous."
"However you want to feel about it..." she replies cryptically.
Don't do well with cryptic when it comes to relationships, but suppress my anxieties as we exchange goodbyes
"Is it okay to call you on the holy day tomorrow/"
She giggles, "Of course, just don't call too early. After midnight mass, the younger members of the family will have a nightcap or two..."
"Sounds like you'll be up till dawn. I'll call you tomorrow evening, xmas is pretty
much over by xmas night."
"Deal."
"Have fun in church--though that's the one time I can say I wish I wasn't with you."
"Yeah right, you'd probably get a secret thrill of attending mass, to see if anyone would recognize the oh-so controversial Darwin Grimm on enemy turf."
"Stop calling it 'mass'. Sounds like you actually have reverence for it, or something."
"What should I call it? An 'obligation'?"
"That's better."
We share a laugh, both wishing we could follow it up with a hug.
I'm wishing it, at least.
The end of her laugh is punctuated by a blaring noise in the background.
"So...I've already hung on this phone with you too long and I have a car full of half-drunk Irishmen honking--if you heard that."
"I did. So have fun with your lord and savior and drive safe and all that and I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Okay, honey, try to have a good Christmas, if that's even possible for you."
"My Christmas comes on the 29th."
SMACK!--She kisses the receiver and clicks off. Hope she cleans that thing on her end.
Stare out into space for a few moments, soaking in the conversation; it's been so long since I've had a connection like that with a woman that I'm so attracted to; it's kind of overwhelming.
In a dreamy kind of love-state, somewhat intoxicating; and in these post-drinking days, will take any kind of buzz I can muster.
Catch a glimpse of the darkness that completely permeates--shit, still need to go outside...
Something tells me to eat, so throw a coupla cold slices of za into the oven.
Could go back online while waiting for grub, but am drained after the convo with Cassandra, not in the mood for any more communication.
Fire up the tube, flipping 'round randomly until Pleasant's sticky-sweet visage is drawn--DVNT, 'natch. A medium-shot reveals the surroundings to be some sort of Crusaders-sponsored event in a park.
With all the neighbors again departed home holidays, no concerns about consideration and crank up the volume, in time to catch Pleasant spouting:
"...at this time I am leaving all my options open insofar as any political aspirations. You understand my ultimate primary political objective is to see America restored to her former glory, as she was in the years following World War II, before the cultural upheaval of the 1960's, when this country turned her back on the Lord and has suffered accordingly ever since."
Swallow hard every time he says that.
DVNT reporter: "As usual, Rev Pleasant remains non-committal when it comes to whether or not he will run for president of the United States in the next election. Most pundits do think he will toss his hat into the ring, either as a Republican or to form a new faith-based third-party, which is a strong rumor at this point. Such a third-party would likely siphon away millions of votes from the Republican Party, forcing them to compromise with Pleasant. To avoid such a messy conflict, the GOP might just invite Pleasant to run from the outset, though Rev Pleasant has not been bashful in his general denunciation of the 'secular turns' of the Republican Party. Time will tell, but for now, the ball is clearly in Rev Pleasant's court."
Had about I can take of that rabble--flick it off and then stick my crown out the window in the next motion. A slap of cool breeze necessitates a skull cap and peacoat.
For once have got energy to burn--which is good, gonna need it to stride up to the peak of Nob Hill...
California and Mason. Winded once I finally get here. Not sure if this urban scaling tired me out more last year than it did this go 'round.
That's about the only thing I don't remember about the one-year anniversary of this night...
Thing is, still not sure why I'm so compelled to do this; just know I belong up here and nowhere else.
Always weird on the rare occasion when I venture to Snob Hill, it truly does feel like a different city up here, a city of the elite, by the elite and for the elite lifted on the shoulders and back on the lesser city below.
Okay...now that I'm here...what the fuck am I supposed to do?
Look around for some sort of inspiration, a sign besides STOP, but there's nothing--or no one--to be found.
Granted, it's xmas eve, but it's gotten awfully deserted...almost eerie.
Wasn't like this last year at this time--there were people, families, as I recall, going to that big kirk down the street or some family gathering at some snooty residence.
Then there's the non-christians with money, who at this time of year, stay at the tony hotels up here in the clouds with the San Fran elite.
But no sign of those types either.
It's almost like everything's been cleared out just for me, providing an empty stage for a drama yet to unfold...
But that's preposterous.
Glad I donned the skull-cap when the wind kicks up fiercely sending a chill to the back of my neck.
A gust hits me smack in the face and something's in my eye...piece of dust, dirt, debris, whatever.
Rub against it with my index finger, and when it's all clear a moment later, notice an approaching figure...
One that I have no reason on Earth to recognize, but I do...probably because it's the only person on Earth I'd recognize:
FOOTNOTE: DARWIN ALLEGEDLY LOVES CASSANDRA YET THE ONLY FIGURE HE RECOGNIZES IS MS. CABAL
Ms. Cabal...
It's as impossible as it is totally fitting she should be here, on this day, at this moment.
And if it's possible, she's dressed in an even deeper realization of my fetishistic fantasies, as if designing her look with the sole intention of captivating my lust and reducing it to a motivational tool to get me to pull off yet another feat I would've previously thought myself utterly incapable of achieving.
But thigh-highs have a way of egging me on/inspiring me...
Indeed, she's completely discarded the corporate/office look she's employed on previous role-playing jaunts with me; RESEARCH DESCRIPT thigh-high boots displaying four-inch stilettos that crumble to dust every pebble, piece of debris or small insect that happen to be unfortunate enough to get under the pair of clicking heels.
She's donned in more leather than a herd of cows. Her head doffed by a military-style cap with shined visor that immediately announces her authority in all situations. The cap covers every slick strand of her impeccably coiffed hair, underscoring her discipline and attention to detail in all things.
Her neck and shoulders are encased by the upturned collar of her imposing-as-it-is-magnificent black trench coat that covers virtually her entire frame, shielding her from the biting winds that rip through my flimsy jacket like so many tatters
In the front, her coat is open sufficiently to reveal a black
bodice With her four-inch boot heels elevating her already impossibly long legs to the heavens, Ms. Cabal is everything, while I am nothing.
Certainly am nothing without her support, her power, her dominance demanding nothing less than complete and total submission.
A leather trench coat and wool cape shield her from the ever increasing brisk winter's wind. Her head is exposed, and why shouldn't it be--she must have paid $500 for her elegant coif, her black hair shimmering beneath the available streetlight.Her forever piercing black eyes cut through me as always, throwing me off any possible game I possessed to begin with, giving her the advantage--as always.
She says nothing, forcing me to speak first--the way she wants it, "Ms. Cabal...? What are you doing here? I thought you were going to the Bahamas and--"
"Never mind that, Darwin. That was simply something I told you to distract you until the time was right."
"Yes, Ms. Cabal," accepting her deception without question.
"Follow me, Darwin."
"Yes, Ms. Cabal."
Relinquishing whatever will I had of my own, turn and follow her down the street, in the opposite direction I had been traveling, naturally. There's no chance in hell I could have been heading the right way. It's for her to correct me.
Speed up my pace to catch up to her while still remaining s half-step behind her. With her next query, her mocking tone comes colder than the blasts of Snob Hill winds.
"Are you enjoying your Christmas Eve, Darwin?"
"About as much as I can possibly enjoy a holiday you know I resent."
"Ask a silly question..." Ms. Cabal says whimsically
Can't help but notice that we seem to be walking towards that grand ol' kirk on Snbo Hill, St. Whoever, as I referred to it one year ago tonight.
"That's correct, Darwin," she answers my thought aloud, "we're going to to St. Barnabas."
Despite her total dominion over me, she actually expects me to enter that place?
Hell, if she's really planning on entering a church on xmas eve dressed like that, she's more radical than I could ever hope to be.
When we're within a few meters of the entrance, she stops suddenly and offers a command: "Hold that door open for me."
"Yes, Ms. Cabal."
Immediately move past the stationary Ms. Cabal and to the large, heavy church door. Feels like it takes every ounce of pitiful strength in my body to swing the door open and hold it sufficiently ajar that Ms. Cabal and her wide leather collar can walk through unimpeded.
Once she steps in, only then do I follow her...
If it's possible to be blinded by darkness, then it just happened to me.
What the hell happened to all the pews and the obedient flock, or even the part-time suckers making their once-a-year appearance to blow out the candles for the messiah's b-day?
Why don't I see ceremonial candles and stained glass depictions of angels in flight?
The only illumination comes from a few wall mounted torches, and even with that it's near impossible to see much other than Ms. Cabal's imposing outline.
Why don't I hear organ music pumping out "Silent Night" or pew-driven orations from a passionate pastor, trying his damnedest to make yet another xmas eve sermon sound halfway relevant to modern life?
As if on cue, another set of torches go aflame, casting a spotlight upon the sole object present to remind one that it's a house of christian worship.
But wouldn't you know it, it's a doozy:
An oversized, gigantic, frankly too-big-to-be-in-a-regular-church crucifix, larger than life-size, complete with a suffering christ, from the crown of thorns to feet with spikes driven through them. Its presence a reminder of its dominance over all things, especially me.
I'm to bow before that crucifix as subserviently as I will bow before Ms. Cabal. Fitting philosophically as it is masochistically.
All the while, Ms. Cabal utters not a word, the only audible sound is the clicking of her stiletto heels against the concrete flooring; as erotic as it is frightening.
She leads me to the center of this dark desolate kirk and breaks the silence with her lush commanding tone:
"Remove your clothing, worm."
Now that we're in the confines of privacy, she resumes calling me worm. It humiliates me as much as it makes me feel special, I'm not just another person she refers to by their first name or last name, like everyone else she encounters in her day-to-day life. No, I'm
her worm.
Still, taking off my clothes in this chilly and drafty shithole is hardly the most enviable of prospects, but what am I to do but to comply? What other choice do I have?
None. Don't even have the freedom to get up, walk out of this room and leave it all behind and start a new quiet life with Cassandra. Ms. Cabal wouldn't have it; there is no escaping her.
"Yes, Ms. Cabal," I reply while pulling down my boxers, revealing my frozen flaccid penis for her to mock--or worse yet, utterly ignore.
But that humiliation is far from the removing my socks, producing a sensation must painful--the cold travels through the bottom of my feet to the top of my skull.
Ms. Cabal soon relieves me of the agony--or rather, she displaces it elsewhere.
"Worm, you should know better than to stand before me. Once you are disrobed, you are to drop to your knees."
"Yes, Ms. Cabal."
And as much as it does bring solace to remove my feet from the floor, as soon as they're replaced by my knees, the cold is nearly as bad and the grinding pain is instantaneous. Heaven help me if she intends for me to kneel before her for any prolonged period.
As I suspect she does...
Looking up at the crucifix, I feel christ's suffering at last.
"I neglected to remind you worm, that on this sacred occasion, in this profane place, you are not to call me 'Ms. Cabal', but rather refer to me strictly as 'Goddess'. Do you understand?"
"Yes Ms.--I mean, yes, Goddess."
"Good thing you caught yourself. As you are about to discover, Darworm, I truly am your Goddess." To underscore her words, she produces a nasty-looking leather riding crop, as if out of thin air, a reminder than any deviation from her command will result in painful punishment.
In this cold, a stinging whack or two from that implement would make me wish I had something hard to bite down on.
Occurs to me that despite all Ms. Cabal and I have been through together, despite the fact I wrote the book she wanted me to write and it was a success, it's as if nothing has changed in all these months since our last...encounter not unlike this one.
If anything, it's more extreme, more grandiose, which could mean that this is the finale...or just the beginning.
Thought I had left this whole fetish business behind, now that Cassandra is in my life.
But in this moment, as Ms. Cabal's begins walking to me, her majestic boots and incredible heels drawing ever closer, it's as if my relationship with Cassandra has ceased to exist, there is not a brain cell of space available for thoughts of anyone--or anything else--except for Ms. Cabal.
Make that Ms. Cabal's boot heels, for as they step closer, that is all I can focus on.
A mixture of erotic anticipation and forehead-dripping dread sweeps over me as her well-heeled heels come within licking distance.
"I think you know what to do worm, now get your head down and do it already."
"Yes, Goddess."
Not going to deny it any longer, paradox though it may be, an experience like this is the only time I'm to feel completely
free. Totally separate from what I have with Cassandra; because there is no true freedom in that relationship, that's a one-on-one commitment. Furthermore, don't have the freedom to express myself sexually this way with Cassandra.
Can't say I prefer kneeling nude and about to truly embarrass myself--and by extension most of the human race--before one of the most powerful women in the world to making tender love with Cassandra. Namely because I have yet to make tender--or any degree of intensity for that matter--love to Cassandra.
Ms. Cabal's choice of words suggest she reads my mind like it was a giant obnoxious freeway billboard: "Do not fret, worm. I have no intention of coming between you and your new-found love. Who do think it was that brought the two of you together? This psychodrama is part of your continuing education, as it were. Let us say I am employing the best teaching method by which to impart this vital wisdom."
Suppose that's supposed to make me feel better--but it doesn't. Especially with her ensuing command:
"Now, be a good worm and clean that spot on the tip of my left boot."
That spot, a little dried piece of dust, or is it mud, consumes my entire field of vision, I can see nothing else but.
So all encompassing is it that could imagine myself diving into that spot and never re-emerging, spending an eternity exploring the microcosmic labyrinth within that modest spot.
And better that I plunge into it for an eternity than do what I am compelled to do for even a moment.
But the task at hand is to remove said spot from my tunnel vision, and more significantly, remove it from Ms. Cabal's otherwise pristine boot.
"Yes, Goddess."
What it comes down to is relinquishing the duty, and ultimately the humiliation, to my tongue, as it is the muscle that will be doing the dirty work.
As the tongue (no longer 'my tongue') leaves its former mouth behind and ventures out into the cold cruel atmosphere of this unholy holy place, its considerable length allows it to easily reach the spot, completely cover it and wipe it off in an efficient circular motion like a quick-wrist mop handled by a lifelong janitor cleaning up a hard to reach corner of a public restroom.
No particular 'flavor'--or any discernible taste is registered by the tongue's taste buds during the act, and that's probably for the best.
Once the spot is removed, the taste of fresh leather (If I had to guess, this is the first time these boots have ever been donned) dominates, and while it's not appealing, at least it's not dirt from god knows where. Can tell the tongue really appreciates that.
Though the tongue's assignment is complete, it remains hovering over Ms. Cabal's boots, for further instructions.
"Move your head out of the way," she commands.
I do so, and she takes a good long look at the tip of her boot, where the spot had been, and it apparently passes muster, for she releases the tongue from further duty and it is able to return inside my mouth and become part of me, after a little while.
Naturally this whole business had nothing to do with her boot being having a minute spot on it, but rather it serves a further reminder she can subject me to anything, and I'll have to take it--and comply.
Simultaneous to all this, odd as it sounds, there's a
cleansing going on inside me, as I feel a total sensation of release.
It's like I'm in my proper place with Ms. Cabal once again; not by her side, as it was during the book tour, but at her feet, as it is now and has been in our most meaningful moments.
Also feeling infused with a sense of purpose that had been missing since the end of my
Bye Bull thumping. Let's face it, outside of my time spent with Cassandra, have been drifting aimlessly.
"Crawl backwards, worm." Ms. Cabal commands.
"Yes, Goddess."
Already sore knees scrape against the cold cracked surface. Feel a trickle of blood descending from one, but am already so numbed can't tell if it's my left or right.
Just gonna have to bite the bullet, highly doubt she's got too many bandages or much of anything in the way of first-aid items in that trench coat, big as it is.
Stop for a moment, enraging her: "Did I give you permission to stop, worm? Keep crawling backwards."
Do so and even pick up the pace a tad, pleasing her.
It's not much longer till she orders me to stop.
"That will do, worm. I prefer that you remain a certain distance from me to physically represent the teacher-student dynamic we are about to undertake. For I have much to share with you, so much so I scarcely know where to begin, unprecedented for me.
"For this, and a multiplicity of other reasons, it is altogether appropriate that this exchange of knowledge should occur this night of all nights. Everyone else is merely receiving Christmas presents of material items, despite the emotional sentiments otherwise imposed upon a given gift.
"Ah, but not you, sweet worm, no, you are receiving the gift of knowledge; knowledge that no other living mortal has ever been exposed to."
An headrush of tidal wave proportions sweeps over me; if Ms. Cabal speaks the truth, then this night could be the pinnacle of my existence, reducing the importance of the writing the
Bye Bull to a check-up to the dentist.
"I suppose I should begin by explaining why you are kneeling naked before me in a cold dark barren hollowed-out husk of a church, and why you were debased further by cleaning my boot with your tongue. I made you do this because you need to be cleansed and woken up. You will remain far more alert and pay far better attention to all I have to impart in this stark setting than if we were seated across the room from each other--or even if you were kneeling on my comfortable carpeting in some warm room in my house."
"Yes, Goddess."
"Do you know the other reason you licked my boot clean?"
"No, Goddess."
"That's disappointing. You should have intuited the answer. You licked my boot clean because you have to be reminded that you serve Me. For you will be serving Me again, Dar-worm, on a level that will require far greater dedication than writing the
Bye Bull ever required."
A hard dry swallow in response, and not at the humiliating twist she spun on my name. No, it was that writing the
Bye Bull nearly killed me, not to mention the book tour nearly literally taking me out. What more could she possibly want?
"After the holidays, and after your relationship with Cassandra intensifies, you are going to move into a new apartment--a larger apartment. I will get you into a great flat in the Upper Haight. You and Cassandra are going to move into that apartment, and then you are going to invite others to live with the two of you."
"Others?"
Ms. Cabal doesn't reply, but instead looks upon me with abject disgust: "Worm, if you are going to ask Me questions in the context of this psychodrama, you must do so by addressing me properly."
"Yes, my Goddess. Please tell me what do you mean by 'others'?"
"That's better. I am not referring to strangers, but rather to those of a like mind. They will be selected from among those who have corresponded with you, such as you were reading earlier this evening and among those who attended your book signings. Those who want to live in a post-Christian world, just as you and I do."
"Yes, my Goddess."
Wait...how could she possibly know I was reading the emails of readers and fans before I went out?
Still, mine is not to question why...mine is to listen to Ms. Cabal:
"Returning to the subject of the cult..."
"Cult, my Goddess?"
"Not the sort of traditional cult you're familiar with; it not be patriarchal--or matriarchal for that matter--not a cult with mindless zombie followers and a frothing-at-the-mouth demagogic leader--no, yours will be a truly self-aware cult."
"In other words, it's not going to be manipulated from the shadows by U.S. intelligence."
"Even on your knees, you are a witty little worm; that is why I chose you."
"Chose me, my Goddess?"
"Yes, I chose you for so many things, Darworm. To write the book, to be the face and voice of a new movement, to form a cult that will serve as the underpinning for a transcendent culture."
"I never wanted to be a leader, my Goddess."
"I'm quite aware of that, Darworm. It seems amusing you would even presume I would envision you as any sort of leader, bowing before me as you do."
Even in this miserable situation, with my knees aching as they do, can't help but crack a smile at the ludicrousness of my concern, properly parodied by Ms. Cabal.
"Now, no more interruptions with declarative statements, you are only to speak if you have a legitimate question, for we have much ground to cover."
"Yes, my Goddess," comes my obligatory response.
MOUNTEBANK OF AMERICA
"After Cassandra returns from her vacation, you are going to ask her to live together."
"Will she accept?"
"Probably."
"You don't know that for certain, my Goddess?"
"No--and if I did, there would be no point in existing on this physical plane."
Curious comment, but not sure if it's worthy of a question. When in doubt, punt, so my mouth stays shut.
Stern as she is, Ms. Cabal throws me an optimistic bone in her response: "Cassandra will likely accept your offer because she loves you...
"Yet she still has apprehensions about living with you and those could lead to her declining your offer. She does not want to jeopardize your nascent relationship due to the conflicts that inevitably arise from cohabitation."
Ms. Cabal tells me this like she's doing a chemical analysis, not dealing with human emotions. And in that one reply, two startling considerations; one, that Cassandra
loves me, and two, how the hell could Ms. Cabal possibly know that?
Since the conversation has veered clearly in the direction of Cassandra, can't help but think of when I first laid eyes upon her, one year ago tonight; when I passed by her after the series of visions on Nob Hill.
My humbled eyes tilt up and meet hers that radiate nothing but certainty. The question that pops in my mind seems wholly inapt, but then recall Ms. Cabal's apparent knowledge of Cassandra already 'loving' me when she (Cassandra) hasn't even expressed that to me.
"My Goddess, did you arrange for Cassandra and I to meet...?"
She smiles in answer to my thoughts. "What do you think?"
"I thought it all just a coincidence my Goddess; me seeing her last xmas eve, and then on the movie set, and then you hiring her to provide security for me."
Ms. Cabal's laughter is neither mocking nor wicked, but portioned out of pity.
"Listen to yourself; you really think that particular chain of events was mere coincidences? After all that has transpired in your life in the last 365 days, how you've gone from utterly ignored to undeniably influential, the visions you've had that have come to fruition, you think
any of it was ever
coincidence?
The force of her rhetorical question nearly tears a hole through me; certainly leaves me feeling two inches tall, a dumbass for even asking and for ever doubting her.
"By the end of this conversation, you will cease to believe in such fallacies as 'coincidence'. I brought you and Cassandra together to serve as the foundation for the new culture based on the practical application of your writings.
"Also, I knew that you were seeking a sexual partner--and while you derive perverse sexual pleasure from our fetishistic encounters, such as the one we currently indulge in, ultimately this is not a sustainable dynamic. At least, not for the more conventional sexual expression you are seeking. Crude though it may be, you'd rather be to top of Cassandra than under my heel."
Wish I was as sure of that as she seems to be.
"I will have my real estate agent find you and Cassandra a suitable apartment; there's a simply charming Victorian flat in the Haight that would be ideal once the expansion to include the members of the larger cult commences."
Everything is so planned out in Ms. Cabal's mind, ever since we met--before that, actually; getting me to write the book, getting me to go on promo tour, getting Cassandra and I in a relationship and now, getting me to start up a cult-house filled with readers of the
Bye Bull.
But what about the things she didn't plan for; the piss attack, the bomb?
Like she said before, if she knew everything that was going to happen, there's be no point in doing anything. Though she hardly seems to be leaving much up to chance.
As she demonstrates with her latest uttering: "By next Christmas eve, you and Cassandra and anywhere from six to eight of your readers will be living together, as a unified group holding the official position of being blatantly opposed to Christianity's undue influence in America."
"My Goddess, what influence will we have if we're just another gaggle of alternative types living in the hippie section of town?"
"That's just it, Darworm, you will not be 'just another' anything.
"One reader--Simon Miller--who will be contacting you soon, is particularly significant, as he is one of the most brilliant physicists on the planet, on the verge of one of the most momentous discoveries in the field of applied physics."
She says no more. Intriguing, but will learn more about it when the time is right--in other words, when she wants to tell me, so I opt for misguided humility instead:
"Is he truly so brilliant if he's reading me, my Goddess?"
Her frown stings harder than any whip: "This isn't the place for self-deprecation, Darworm, please refrain from it in the future. If you weren't the type of writer that would inspire a mind such as Miller's, then you surely would not be kneeling before me."
Right. I'd be forever ignored or at best, passed over by Ms. Cabal, just like so many other starving writers in San Francisco.
And for the first time since we entered this blackened church, find myself looking to the future, am looking forward to doing a little web research on this Simon Miller. Wonder why he hasn't contacted me yet? Or maybe he has, and I've just overlooked his email, or perhaps letter.
Looking forward to it; that is, if and when she releases me from this bondage.
"Following the successful formation of the cult and the inevitable transition period until the group becomes a fully functioning unit, you will not be without support. Along with my unwavering support, investors will see to it that the cult is financially sustained. Keeping the group together will be the responsibility of you and the other members of the group."
"Are we to be an experiment, my Goddess?"
"There is no time for experimentation, as I will make clear to you. Just as the
Bye Bull was an unquestioned success, so shall the cult be an even greater achievement."
"My Goddess, I can scarcely imagine Cassandra living with me, let alone her agreeing to live with a whole group of strangers."
"Please refrain make rash assumptions, Darworm. Though time is of the essence, this will be a gradual endeavor, I understand this completely. Naturally, you will have to convince Cassandra of the importance of accepting the cult. As the two of you are still feeling each other out as opposed to physically feeling each other, there is still much you do not know about her. I assure you there is a side of her that would be open to this, so that is the part of her you must reach."
Thoughts are divided over mulling just how difficult that's going to be along with the increasingly frightening realization that Ms. Cabal knows exactly where Cassandra and I stand--down to the fact that we have yet to sleep together.
Ms. Cabal resumes her reassurance: "Keep in mind Darworm that Cassandra not only cares for you deeply, but she is influenced by your thinking, your ideas. As are many people, and rightfully so, because you have a veritable endless stream of ideas to be shared that have not been expressed previously. That is why the cult will be successful."
Jesus, when she talks about me like that, feels like she's kneeling before me.
"What am I to name this cult, my Goddess?"
"Now, Darworm, you should full well I always turn over the creative reigns to you. Naming the cult will be entirely up to you. Or perhaps up to you and Cassandra, or even you and all the other members of the cult will decide upon a fitting moniker.
"Initially, it will just be you and Cassandra living at the future cult house; for the two of you need to learn how to live with each other before you can begin to learn how to live with others, especially in a transcendent dynamic such as the cult promises to be. You've both been in solitary confinement for so long, you both need to adapt to the challenges of cohabitation.
"You in particular, Darworm, have been antisocial for much of your adult life. Although your encounters with me and your experiences on book tour have opened you up to a large degree, there was still that distance, that detachment from people. Standing before an audience reading excerpts from your book while standing on a podium is hardly the same as sharing a bathroom with them."
Her phrasings have the capability to lift me out of body up to the highest heavens as equally as dropping me face-first in the lowest gutter. Through it all, I remain kneeling, enraptured.
"And you need not be in any rush. I want you and Cassandra to live together, just the two of you, for awhile, settle into that dynamic0. I know you have been anti-social for most of your adult life, so just living with
one person is going to take some time for you to adapt and adjust."
"Yes, Ms. Cabal." She's right as rain; that's been my biggest fear as far as living with Cassandra--or any roommate for that matter--romantic or strictly platonic, after all these years of being alone and set in my ways.
How will I deal with having to share things and with not being in total command of a given situation? Can my ego handle it?
But that's not to be considered right now; not with so much before me, with so much to ask...
"May I ask why you want me to form a cult, Ms. Cabal?"
"Well, my darling Darworm, that is one of the most basic questions that gets to the root of it all, now isn't it?
Why? What is the
purpose of gathering together a disparate group of
Bye Bull readers to live together in a Victorian flat in the middle of San Francisco?
"Ironically, despite the many pearls of wisdom I am going to share with you on this evening, I am not going to reveal to you the full extent of my plans for the cult, for frankly, that is to be an organic entity, and while I most assuredly have designs for the direction of this soon-to-be-formed grouping, it is not germane to this conversation. Perhaps at a later time.
"Also, I no intentions of overwhelming your prefrontal cortex this evening with an overabundance of information.
"However, it is entirely appropriate that I address the essence of your very valid question--the cult will be formed as an central focus, an opposition point at which those who oppose christianity can gather, with the altogether modest aim of building a new culture that exists beyond the parameters of organized religion.
"As you have pointed out so eloquently in the
Bye Bull, when left unfettered, Christianity seeks to first compete rather than cooperate and then dominate rather than facilitate."
"Why do you keep calling it a 'cult', My Goddess? Doesn't that word, what it means, everything it implies, have all kinds of negative connotations?"
Ms. Cabal's response is laced with the appropriate irony: "Everything you've done has negative connotations to the majority, Darworm, you be acutely aware of that. As I mentioned previously, yours will be a 'self-aware cult', not one that is subject to the whims of a deluded demagogue. You will be the cult that 'knows' it's a cult and acts accordingly."
"You mean when we kill ourselves, we'll know the reason why."
Goddess cracks a smile at my dry flippancy. "Your cult--your 'group', if you prefer, will always be one leg up on the media, science, high tech, corporation government and religious groups like the Crusaders, cultural trends and society in general. Yours will be a cult without a leader, for each member is a leader. Yours will be a cult that does not flame out in disaster. Yours will be a cult that outdoes the culture."
Sounds impressive. Also sounds completely impossible, but then, hasn't this entire past year been impossible?
So avoid the macrocosm and instead focus on the micro: "My Goddess, may I ask why you think I'm capable of pulling this off, and why you chose me to write the book in the first place?"
"The
Bye Bull is the answer to your second question, dear boy.
"As for your first query, the only thing I know you're capable of pulling off is your pathetic cock, night after lonely night," she responds with cold humiliation.
On one level, a slap in the face. But naturally, it brings excitement to my lower region.; an arousal that will not be satiated; on the contrary, satiation would defeat the very purpose of my being here.
"As for the cult, I chose you to be the catalyst behind its formation--as opposed to deigning you its 'leader'--is for essentially the same reasons you wrote the Bye Bull--and you see how successfully that turned out. You are intellectual, nonconformist, not encumbered by family in any way, and you possess that 'wanting to change the world' quality so vital to...pulling this off, as you so colorfully phrased it.
"Your anti-social nature provided the solitude necessary for you to foster your ideas over the years, and then, express them on the page for me in a matter of months. If anything, those tendencies will like likely serve you well in selecting the members of the cult--and keeping them around--for you don't need them around to fulfill any deficiency lacking in your self-possession but rather to serve the higher purpose at hand."
Intriguing paradox; because I don't need people, I'm better suited to bring together a disparate group of
Bye Bull readers united for a common cause. Based on the premise I possess some sort of innate radar unencumbered by ego or insecurity enabling me to more sincerely interact with all these new strangers/anti-christian warriors I'm to live with.
If so, then Ms. Cabal does indeed know me better than I could ever hope to. Try as I might, I'm too busy being me to self-analyze sufficiently. At least in comparison to self-pulling, that is...
There is a pause in the proceedings...yet, calculated as Ms. Cabal is, she must be deliberately allowing me a moment to gather my thoughts
And despite all that is before me, all my long-term always planning-and-living-in-the future mind can really focus on is the impending cult. Seems like she wants that as quickly constructed as I was to write the book. She's already made several references for the necessity of expediency
But why...?
Have to ask.
"My Goddess, may I ask why the rush to form this group, if, as you say, Cassandra and I will have difficulty just managing to live together? Won't introducing a whole group of strangers upset whatever delicate parameters of living together that Cassandra and I will likely at best tenuously establish?"
"I'm well aware of the risks at hand, Darworm, however there are far greater risks on a larger scale, such as you witnessed on DVNT earlier this evening."
Earlier this evening? What are these fantasies of which she speaks? There was no 'earlier this evening' There was nothing before this present state of being, nothing before bowing before Ms. Cabal in this vacant, meaningless church.
Nothing which I can imagine could possibly be true.
Such a cliche to say that it felt like a lifetime ago; far as I'm concerned, there was no existence before this moment.
Against my better judgment, flog my memory and recall the chain of events that preceded my arrival here, not necessarily which lead to my arrival for here, for that appears to be solely without cause, but rather, just the events themselves...
For a time, my conversation with Cassandra floods my mind. Do my best to mentally push that aside until another memory fills the void. Ah yes, there it is. I was indeed watching DVNT earlier this evening.
And then, it all comes back to me in a flash flood--Pleasant, it was about Pleasant. And his aspirations to run for president.
And the rhetorical question comes to me as easily as any thought ever has: "Is the cult then intended to meet whatever challenges Pleasant as President would bring?"
"Yes Darworm, Pleasant and the interests that surround him seek to alter this nation as radically and quickly as it ever has been transformed, but they can only completely do so from the powers afforded by controlling the executive branch of the U.S. government."
"Do you really expect him to win, my Goddess?"
"It's not as simple as that Darworm, but then you should well know it never is. Do you recall, even in your heightened albeit distorted state of awareness, what was said on that DVNT broadcast you watched earlier this evening?"
A momentary pause, but nothing from my dullard brain.
"Of course you don't," she continues. "What it said was Pleasant may form his own political party based on his Crusader following, but that the GOP might offer him a deal, the Vice Presidency in exchange for giving up the third-party run, which we all know would doom the Republicans in November. And they can't afford to give up the White House to the Democrats, not when they are so close to establishing their de facto theocracy. Banning abortion was just the beginning, especially if Pleasant himself ascends to office.
"Furthermore, Pleasant represents an even greater threat than his compatriots on the religious right even realize."
"And what is that, my Goddess?"
"I hardly need remind you that Pleasant is a Christian Reconstructionist."
"Thought he was a a Dominion Theologist, my Goddess," I manage to wince as my left knee stiffens up even tighter. Will I pass out from the pain before Ms. Cabal tells me all I'm to hear?
"Publicly Pleasant would never admit to that, but you are correct, Darworm. Even in your...diminished capacity you realize it's just a matter of semantics. The Dominion Theologist will tell you flat out that biblical law should supersede secular law. The Reconstructionist will tell you that Christians should put their faith in 'all areas of life."
"The Dominion Theologist is just being more honest, my Goddess."
"Precisely. Though you may be weak in the knees, you are still strong in the mind, my shivering worm."
Do my best to hold my body still, already just impressed her, want to keep the momentum going.
Which is promptly blown by my awkwardly asking: "And how am I--we, the cult, whoever, how are we prevent that, my Goddess?"
Her angry response comes harsher than the most acrid venom that could ever be spat directly into my eyes.
"You are not going to 'prevent' anything, Darworm--that is not the intended function of the cult. Rather, it will serve as a locus for those disparate elements of the current 'culture at large' that will unify for a common cause--to develop an entirely new culture running on a parallel track from the America that Pleasant and company will be shaping.
"The more the Crusaders tear down and destroy the nation, the more of it your new culture will rebuild and replace."
And for the first time, a razor-thin slice of the full scope of her machinations becomes apparent to me.
This isn't about selling books, or establishing me as an established author, a 'name brand' with which the well could be continuously pumped for a new book every other year, I'd become a self-contained cottage industry, though ultimately just another cog in her publishing machine at
Apogee Wtit.
In my cynical heart, that's what I thought this was really all about.
But still, need to express the insight, and ask the critical question:
"My Goddess, you mean to say you didn't bring me here tonight to tell me I'd be writing another book?"
Her scoff fills the vacuous remains of this house of worship: "You tell me, Darworm, how exactly does one follow up authoring the
Bye Bull?"
She has me there, doesn't she? Even with my knees ready to split asunder, can still relish the manner in which her seemingly spontaneous responses are laced with double meanings--if not more. She mocks me and answers my concern with equal aplomb.
"No one is more aware than I of the seemingly endless series of questions running through your mind regarding your concerns for the cult. But I tell you to put your mind at rest on the subject for the remainder of the evening; now is not the time to dwell on such things, by telling you about the cult I sought to impress upon you the essential reason for our gathering here. Additionally, you have yet to hear from my lips the most devastating disclosure. It's safe to say, Darworm, that when you leave here, the cult will be the last matter on your mind."
Hope that was 'devastating' as in awe-inspiring, and not devastating as in ending with me splitting open and melting.
"Now that all depends on how you react to it, Darworm."
Wait a minute...
I didn't say that
aloud, did I?
I just
thought it, didn't I?
"Yes, Darworm, you only thought it."
Then that means...
"Yes, I read your mind. I calculated that resorting to such a parlor trick would be the proper means to introduce you to the truth."
The 'truth'? What the hell does she mean by that? What, she's been lying to me all this time?
But still a more pressing question to pose:
"So you didn't actually 'read' my mind, did you my Goddess? It was a 'parlor trick' as you just said, right?"
"Wrong. I 'read your mind' insofar as that idiomatic expression has any validity; specifically I am telepathically aware of all your thoughts as you process them, as your thoughts are connected to a Universal, or Ultimate Consciousness, which I have complete access to. It was a 'parlor trick' in the sense that it was a trivial display of my capabilities."
"My Goddess, you're saying can do more than just read my mind...?" I ask, afraid of the answer.
An answer that never comes. An answer that doesn't have to.
"That's not the question you are to ask me, Darworm."
Take a feeble stab: "My Goddess, who are you..?"
Crane my stiffening neck up to her tireless visage to find her smiling approval.
"I'm you, Darworm."
How's that?
"I'm Cassandra."
Come again?
"I'm Pleasant."
Now that's just wrong.
"Or rather, you are all organs of...Me."
Boy if the expression on my face looks half as dumb as I feel...
"I'll understand if that is not a sufficient answer, Darworm. But that's only because you still haven't asked the proper question..."
Wrong question? If not asking 'Who are you?', then...
"...
What are you?"
Beatific beaming spreads across her face--apparently I asked the right question.
"I am what is commonly referred to as God, though I certainly also have been known, as you presently recognize me, as
Goddess."
And there you have it. Everything wild, weird and downright insane that has happened in my life up until this exact moment has officially been topped.
Really not sure how to react; am I supposed to cry? Laugh? Bow down and grovel at an even lower level and worship Ms. Cabal/Goddess even more devoutly?
Almost too much to accept; everything I’ve stood for, written about, been almost blown up for, all that is rendered completely meaningless in one reply from Ms. Cabal.
The wound is seasoned as she corrects me: “Darworm, since you are now aware that I am aware of your thoughts, you are to address me as ‘Goddess’ in your thoughts as well."
“Yes, my Goddess”
There is nowhere to run from her.
“No, there isn’t.”
Goddammit.
Swallow hard and jerk my head up to see if she’s been morally offended.
Instead she smiles wide:
“Don’t worry, Darworm, you’ve taken nothing in vain.”
START 6/28
At least she said 'when' I leave, and not 'if'. Gives me wiggle room for optimism.
Another pause allotted by Ms. Cabal; can hear and feel myself breathing, can hear and feel Ms. Cabal breathing. Hell, hearing the church itself breathing.
No, it's not us who are breathing. We're being
breathed.
And in this moment of calm unlike any I've experienced, my concentration hones in on a single point...
A minute speck of dirt on the tip of her boot heel, must have overlooked it during my previous cleaning.
DOES SHE EXPRESS A 'HEARD THOUGHT' TO REVEAL HER HIGHER POWERS
6/25/09
THREAT OF PLEASANT, THERE IS A POSITIVE AND A NEGATIVE REASON, PROMOTING POSITIVE AND NEGATING THE NEGATIVE MOTIVATIONS FOR FORMING
but I'm not about to challenge her--at least not verbally.
WHY SHE CHOSE ME--BUT THIS ALSO HAS TO BE ANSWERED AFTER SHE REVEALS HERSELF
TELLING ME WHO SHE REALLY IS
After Revelation, "I have to admit I felt pretty silly calling her 'my Goddess' for such a long stretch, no longer!"
WHY SHE PUT ME THROUGH IT (REFER TO DIARY)
SCIENCE OF IT ALL; VIBRATIONS (OCCULT)
THE IMPERATIVE OF INDIVIDUALITY (AA BLOG)
WHY SHE CHOSE AMERICA, BECAUSE THIS IS THE COUNTRY, DESPITE ITS MYRIAD OF CONTRADICTIONS, THAT MOST CELEBRATES INDIVIDUALITY. IT'S WHY AMERICA IS THE RUDEST COUNTRY. CHRISTIANITY IS THE DOMINANT RELIGION NOW, SO THAT CHOICE WAS MADE FOR ME.
THREAT OF PLEASANT
THE VISIONS I HAVE
"In the end, Darwin, you will be doing far more for me than I will ever do for you."
CONCLUSION
Alas, she catches me anyway
"Nothing is impossible, certainly not when I stand in your corner."
"What did you wish to ask me next, Darworm? Do not be bashful. Not now, when you've been reduced to kneeling naked before me with shivering body and and aching joints."
She's letting me call the shots.
"Yes, Darworm, I am letting
you call the shots."
"Did I say that aloud, Ms. Cabal?"
"No. I read your mind. I figured I simply had to resort to some sort of parlor trick in order to inspire you to asking me some sort of question."
"So you didn't actually 'read' my mind, did you Ms. Cabal? It was a 'parlor trick' as you just said, right?"
"Wrong. I 'read your mind' insofar as that idiomatic expression has any validity; specifically I am telepathically aware of all your thoughts as you process them, as your thoughts are connected to a Universal, or Ultimate Consciousness, which I have complete access to. It was a 'parlor trick' in the sense that it was a trivial display of my capabilities."
"You mean you can do more thanjust read my mind...?" I ask, afraid of the answer.
"Though that is not the question I'm looking for you to ask, Darworm."
Take a feeble stab: "Who are you..?"
"I'm you."
"I'm Cassandra."
"I'm Pleasant."
"Or rather, you are all organs of me.
"I'll understand if that is not a sufficient answer. But keep listening..."
START
As she demonstrates with her next uttering: "Initially, you can expect the to consist of a few readers of the Bye Bull that have written you and saw you on one of your promotional tour appearances. More than one have written saying that they would like to establish a group or a living situation that would reflect the values of the Bye Bull."
They have? She knows the content of my letters better than I do. I've only read the things half-ass so far, barely interested in what anyone had to say. For some reason, I felt no connection to them; maybe it was the bad taste of how the book tour ended that left me feeling that way. Obviously, that's going to change from now on.
Ms. Cabal nods as if perfectly reading my thoughts and continues: "By next Christmas eve, you and Cassandra and anywhere from 6 to 8 of your readers are going to be living together, as a unified group that is blatantly opposed to Christianity's influence in America."
"But what influence will we have if we're just another gaggle of alternative types living in the hippie section of town?"
"That's just it, Darworm, you will not be 'just another' anything.
You should take the time to read those le you have been sent and see who is interested in aligning with you."
"Yes, my Goddess." Now I'm actually excited to read them when I get back home (whenever that will be), whereas before I was happy to shove them under a pile of nondescript bills.
"After you form this group, you will not be without support; I and other investors will see to it that your group is financially sustained. Keeping the group together will be the responsibility of you and the other members of the group."
"Are we an experiment?"
"There is no time for experimentation, as I will make clear to you."
"Okay, I could see Cassandra moving in with me, but she's not going to go for a bunch of my fanboys living with us."
"Don't make rash assumptions, Darworm. It's not something that will happen overnight, you have to convince her, have to work on her. There is a side of her that would be open to this, so that is the part of her you must reach."
While mulling over just how hard that's going to be, Ms. Cabal continues:
"Remember, Cassandra not only cares for you deeply, but she is influenced by your thinking, your ideas. As are many people, and rightfully so, because you have a lot to say that has not been expressed previously. That is why the cult will be successful."
"What's this cult going to be called?"
"Now, Darworm, you should know that I always let you handle the creative end of things; that is up to you. Or perhaps you and Cassandra, or the other members of the cult. Again, entirely up to you.
"And you need not be in any rush. I want you and Cassandra to live together, just the two of you, for awhile, settle into that dynamic0. I know you have been anti-social for most of your adult life, so just living with one person is going to take some time for you to adapt to."
"Yes, Ms. Cabal." She's right as rain; that's been my biggest fear as far as living with Cassandra--or any roommate for that matter--romantic or strictly platonic, after all these years of being alone and set in my ways.
"However, unbeknown to your lady fair, she will be requiring root canal surgery next month. The resultant cost will put her in a financial bind where moving out of her apartment and in with you somewhere less expensive will be her best option for financial survival."
"How do you know she's going to need a root canal?"
"Because her WHAT TOOTH IS TECH RESEARCH But insofar as the intent of your question, all in good time, Darworm. Listen for now."
"Yes, my Goddess." Have to remember to maintain my respect at all times in this scenario, if I want to come out of this both informed and unscathed.
Since the conversation has veered clearly in the direction of Cassandra, can't help but think of her one year ago tonight--when I passed by her after my visions on Nob Hill. Did Goddess arrange that?
She smiles in answer to my thoughts. "What do you think...?"
"I thought it was coincidence?"
"Wrong--you
believed it was a coincidence. By the end of this conversation, you will cease to believe in such fallacies."
"I brought you and Cassandra together because the pair of you will serve as the foundation for the new culture based on the practical application of your writings.
"Also, I knew that you were seeking a sexual partner--and while you derive perverse sexual pleasure from your encounters with me, ultimately this is not a sustainable dynamic in which a relationship could nurture and develop healthily."
jesus, when she speak like that, it's almost like she cares.
"More than you know, Darworm..."
She pauses to let that admission resonate soundly in my mind before getting back to the business at hand:
"I will have my real estate agent find you and Cassandra a suitable apartment; probably the Victorian flat in the Haight as I mentioned earlier. It has plenty of rooms that will make it a charming cult house.
"The cult will consist of a few readers of the
Bye Bull that have written you and saw you on one of your promotional tour appearances. More than one have written saying that they would like to establish a group or a living situation that would reflect the values of the
Bye Bull."
They have? She knows the content of my letters better than I do. I've only read the things half-ass so far, barely interested in what anyone had to say. For some reason, I felt no connection to them; maybe it was the bad taste of how the book tour ended that left me feeling that way. Obviously, that's going to change from now on. Ms. Cabal nods as if perfectly reading my thoughts and continues:
"By next Christmas eve, you and Cassandra and anywhere from 6 to 8 of your readers are going to be living together, as a unified group that is blatantly opposed to Christianity's influence in America."
"But what influence will we have if we're just another gaggle of alternative types living in the hippie section of town?"
"That's just it, Darworm, you will not be 'just another' anything.
You should take the time to read those le you have been sent and see who is interested in aligning with you."
"Yes, my Goddess." Now I'm actually excited to read them when I get back home (whenever that will be), whereas before I was happy to shove them under a pile of nondescript bills.
"After you form this group, you will not be without support; I and other investors will see to it that your group is financially sustained. Keeping the group together will be the responsibility of you and the other members of the group."
"Are we an experiment?"
"There is no time for experimentation, as I will make clear to you."
"Okay, I could see Cassandra moving in with me, but she's not going to go for a bunch of my fanboys living with us."
"Don't make rash assumptions, Darworm. It's not something that will happen overnight, you have to convince her, have to work on her. There is a side of her that would be open to this, so that is the part of her you must reach."
While mulling over just how hard that's going to be, Ms. Cabal continues:
"Remember, Cassandra not only cares for you deeply, but she is influenced by your thinking, your ideas. As are many people, and rightfully so, because you have a lot to say that has not been expressed previously. That is why the cult will be successful."
"What's this cult going to be called?"
"Now, Darworm, you should know that I always let you handle the creative end of things; that is up to you. Or perhaps you and Cassandra, or the other members of the cult. Again, entirely up to you.
"And you need not be in any rush. I want you and Cassandra to live together, just the two of you, for awhile, settle into that dynamic0. I know you have been anti-social for most of your adult life, so just living with
one person is going to take some time for you to adapt to."
"Yes, Ms. Cabal." She's right as rain; that's been my biggest fear as far as living with Cassandra--or any roommate for that matter--romantic or strictly platonic, after all these years of being alone and set in my ways.
How will I deal with having to share things and with not being in total command of a given situation? Can my ego handle it?
But that's not to be considered right now; not with so much before me, with so much to ask...
"May I ask why you want me to form a cult, Ms. Cabal?"
"Well, my darling Darworm, that is one of the most basic questions, getting to the root of it all, now isn't it?
Why? What is the
purpose of gathering together a disparate group of your readers to live together in a Victorian flat in the middle of San Francisco?
"Ironically, despite the many pearls of wisdom I am going to share with you on this evening, I am not going to reveal to you the full extent of my plans for the cult, for frankly, that is to be an organic entity, and while I most assuredly have designs for the direction of this soon-to-be-formed grouping, it is not germaine to this conversation. Perhaps at a later time.
"Also, I do not wish to completely obliterate your consciousness this evening with an overabundance of information, concepts and future plotting."
"However, I can address the essence of your particular question--the cult will be formed as an central focus, an opposition point at which those who oppose christianity can gather, with the altogether modest aim of building a new culture that exists beyond the parameters of organized religion.
"As you have pointed out so eloquently, Christianity is unable to establish a valid code of moral values, and we see the rotting culture as a result. Your group will be one of high morals, but self-defined, not from some outside interest that seeks only to control."
"Will you be a member of the cult, Ms. Cabal?"
"Alas, no, my sweet Darworm, for I must remain in the shadows, due to my prominent nature. Our association will be tenuous yet unbreakable, yet it cannot be blatant. Not at this time. But the cult shall never suffer from lack of financing."
"Why do you keep calling it a 'cult'? Doesn't that word, what it means, have all kinds of negative connotations?"
Ms. Cabal scoffs readily at my assertion, "Everything you've done has negative connotations to the majority, Darworm, you should know that by now. As I mentioned previously, this will be a 'self-aware cult', not one that is subject to the whims of a deluded demagogue. You will be the cult that 'knows' it's a cult and acts accordingly."
"You mean when we kill ourselves, we'll know the reason why."
Goddess cracks a smile at my dry flippancy. "I mean that your group will always be one leg up on the media, science and high tech, government, cultural trends and society in general. Yours will be a cult without a leader. Yours will be a cult that does not flame out in disaster. Yours will be a cult that outdoes the culture."
Sounds impressive. Also sounds completely impossible, but I'm not about to challenge her--at least not verbally.
Alas, she catches me anyway
"Nothing is impossible, certainly not when I stand in your corner."
"What did you wish to ask me next, Darworm? Do not be bashful. Not now, when you've been reduced to kneeling naked before me with shivering body and and aching joints."
She's letting me call the shots.
"Yes, Darworm, I am letting
you call the shots."
"Did I say that aloud, Ms. Cabal?"
"No. I read your mind. I figured I simply had to resort to some sort of parlor trick in order to inspire you to asking me some sort of question."
"So you didn't actually 'read' my mind, did you Ms. Cabal? It was a 'parlor trick' as you just said, right?"
"Wrong. I 'read your mind' insofar as that idiomatic expression has any validity; specifically I am telepathically aware of all your thoughts as you process them, as your thoughts are connected to a Universal, or Ultimate Consciousness, which I have complete access to
"Though that is not the question I'm looking for you to ask, Darworm."
Take a feeble stab: "Who are you..?"
She shakes her head indicating further disapproval.
Though this barren room remains as frosty as ever, the stress and strain of trying to come up with the question she's looking for sends beads of sweat pouring down my forehead and even down my back, igniting extra chills there.
"No..." I mutter in half-breath, staring at the tip of her leather boots.
Then it occurs to me; the question that should have been obvious, but one that I wouldn't allow to come to me, because of the implications.
But now is the time for the question to be asked: "What are you?"
Tilt my head up slowly to find a grin of approval awaiting me.
"I am what is commonly referred to as God, but more accurately known in ancient times as Goddess, worm."
And there you have it. Everything wild, weird and downright insane that has happened in my life up until this point has officially been topped.
Really not sure how to react; am I supposed to cry, laugh, admit defeat, bow down and worship Ms. Cabal/god
even more (if that's humanly possible)?
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
It's not like I disbelieve her.
She's waiting for a question that I don't have.
That I can't ask.
So, as usual, she takes it upon herself. "Fortunately for you, I'm not actually Goddess, and certainly not anything resembling the Christian God."
That's a relief. Not that I was really expecting her to be christian, unless she was really Machiavellian.
"So you created the Universe?"
"Rather I was involved in shaping the forces that lead to the creation of this particular universe that your set of slowed-down vibrations manifested as an extension of an individual metaphysical Unit of Awareness happens to inhabit, which hardly holds exclusive rights to being the only universe in the material plane."
"The multiverse?" I ask, somewhat rhetorically, already fairly certain she was referring to the theoretical set of multiple universes that together (along with our universe) comprise all of reality.
"More or less--and it's hardly 'theorectical'. But we need not get bogged down with specifics on that tangential topic at this time, not when we have so much other pertinent ground to cover."
"Yes, my Goddess."
"For we must venture back to a time far beyond the mere creation of the physical universe...back to where it all began."
Another lump in my throat; if I heard correctly, Ms. Cabal is going to drop into my lap the
ultimate knowledge...
And I wonder...am I the first person to ever be receiving this knowledge?
"No-" Ms. Cabal interrupts by reading my thoughts and answering my question, "--this wisdom has been imparted to other individuals at key junctures in human history. But rest assured, Darwin Grimm, that you are the only individual in this current time that is receiving direct confirmation of this knowledge, the
ultimate knowledge as you correctly surmised.
"In the beginning, there was only Awareness. And when I say Awareness, I mean only the state of Awareness and nothing more. Not a being with awareness, not any sort of deity with awareness, but the uncaused first cause
AWARENESS & ABSOLUTE AWARENESS RAPS
"But my Goddess, if the only thing that existed was Awareness, what existed that it was aware of?"
"Itself; for there could be nothing else for Awareness to be Aware of but itself. AAd once Awareness became aware of Itself, or achieved Self Awareness, then the stage had been set for the existence of an entity beyond Absolute Awareness...Self Awareness."
"Once a realm of Consciousness beyond mere Awareness was established, this allowed for the development of the dual foundations of wisdom/knowledge/logic/reason and understanding/emotion/empathy/intuition, exemplified by yours truly.
"These same attributes are present in every single rational, feeling human that's ever existed, just as the basic Awareness of the Absolute is present also. Obviously, I and my counterpart of Wisdom represent a far more complex attribute than just mere Awareness. Awareness is more fundamental, but Wisdom and Understanding are more fun, as I like to say."
"Very clever, my Goddess."
"Thank you, Darworm. I know how much you appreciate a play on words."
"With such skills of your own, with your ability to tap into the entire well of human thought and knowledge, why did you need me to write the book, my Goddess?"
"You are getting ahead of yourself little Darworm--however, I will tell you that it had to be a human, a mortal who penned the book. I may be a catalyst, but it is humans who must play out the drama that is intelligent life on the physical plane.
"As far as the reasons you were chosen, Darworm, allow me to tell the entire story in proper chronology, and all will be clear to you before the sun rises on another accursed Christmas morning."
The resentment in her voice towards the christian faith is genuine, can feel it rippling through the core of my being. No doubt her emotions are amplified by the fact that it's xmas eve.
"Indeed, Darworm. That is precisely why I reached out to you when I did, for you were experiencing the same emotions on this very night one year ago. But that is also for later discussion.
"Let us return to the pre-material origin of existence...Now that Wisdom and Understanding, Logic and Intuition had manifested as balancing components of Infinite Consciousness, it was possible for more specific psychological characteristics to formulate."
"So Consciousness does predate the material plane?"
"Oh yes; in fact, it can be accurately stated that the material plane was constructed for the establishment of this Consciousness into the material plane,
even though mortal humans were the final result of physical evolution--"But they had to be, didn't they, Goddess?"
Ms. Cabal flashes an approving smile, "Yes, indeed my little worm, and your swift reply is further confirmation that I made my wisest choice when I chose you as an ally. But don't let your big head and your little head swell too full of pride."
I do feel a genuine twinge of pride, offsetting another spasm of pain shooting through knees not meant to be bent in these cold environs.
"Pain heightens your focus and your attention, Darworm."
Can't keep a single thought from her, can I?
"I"m afraid not, Darworm. I inhabit the consciousness of every mortal creature, so at least you can harbor some solace in the fact you are not alone in sharing your innermost thoughts with me.
"Now, as I was saying...following the establishment of thought, emotions and characteristics, then came the development of the spiritual, or metaphysical planes. This included the formative plane, which serves as a template if you will of the physical plane in which we currently inhabit."
"Goddess, tell me, are these truths the basis of judeo-christian mythology?"
"Yes, Darworm; the myth that the Judeo-Christian monolithic 'God' created the physical universe is a perverted representation of the occult truth that humankind was created for the descent of Self Awareness/Infinite Consciousness into the physical plane, in order to experience...well, just about everything.
"In some parlance, it is known as the Game."
"Game, Goddess?"
"Yes, for lack of a better word. If you prefer 'sport' you can certainly affix that to Self Awareness/Infinite Consciousness' motivation for manifesting the physical plane you currently inhabit."
"So you're telling me that although the Source of all things is Absolute Awareness, that it is not Absolute Awareness that created the physical world."
"Precisely; as I made clear, Absolute Awareness is eternally unchanging, and thus, without motivation; but Self Awareness/IC was motivated to continue to create a chain of existence that would eventually lead ."
"You're saying that christianity got it wrong--as usual; that 'the Creator' is not the Alpha and Omega, rather those are two different entities; Absolute Awareness is the Alpha and Omega, while Self Awareness/Infinite Consciousness is the creative force. christianity combined the two in order to push their monotheistic god.
"Now you've got it, my worm!"
Occurs to me in that moment that I'm actually receiving confirmation that I've been right about this all along--everything I've written and stood for--the christian god is not true, that jesus christ was not the son of god.]
Crane my neck so that my eyes reach my Goddess, and she confirms
Flog my mind for another question; sometimes asking them is the only thing that takes my mind off my knees aching so.
"So...Goddess...forgive my confusion...but does this mean life is but a game, albeit with a capital 'G'?"
"Better to call the physical plane a Realm of Experience; one in which Absolute Awareness and Self Awareness/IC can experience every possibility...from the heights of a king or queen...to the depths of a homeless person or condemned prisoner."
"Goddess, would you say the Absolute so petty that it craved existence in the material world?"
Ms. Cabal laughs aloud, the joviality echoing through the dark and frigid room: "Ah, Darworm, even stripped bare cowering before me, you retain your defiance and sense of humor. You seldom fail to remind me that I made the right choice choosing you."
"Thank you, Goddess."
"How amusing it is to hear the mighty Darworm Grumpy, king atheist, bowing before 'his Goddess' Just as you bowed when you were a young Christian. And just like you may bow again one day, little worm. Let this be a reminder."
What could she possibly mean by that? Now that I know she can read my thoughts, I wait for her to answer, but her lack of reply signals that she has no intention of cluing me in at the present.
"After the planes of Consciousness had been established, then--and only then--the Spiritual Plane, which Christianity is so quick to take credit for--and wrongfully attribute as occuring before Consciousness--could manifest.
"The Spiritual Beings that came into existence on this plane were instrumental in the manifestation of the Formative Plane, the Foundation that preceded the initial manifestation of the Physical Plane."
"As above, so below."
"Indeed. I am delighted, dear Darworm, that you have grasped and accepted these concepts so readily."
"Thank you, Goddess."
ORIGIN OF THE PHYSICAL PLANE/EXPLANATION OF VIBRATIONS
"Is there any kind of...science behind this, my Goddess?"
"In the sense you mean Darworm, yes, vibrations. Everything consists of vibrations. All that exists physically and metaphysical consists of different frequencies of vibrating energy.The different metaphysical planes are separated by different vibrational tunings, obviously the physical plane we inhabit has an altogether different vibration, slowed down/at a different rate/frequency. And even different lifeforms, such as plants and humans, vibrate at different frequency."
"Are you all clear on the concept of vibrations, Darworm?"
"Yes, my Goddess."
"Very good. As I was saying, the physical plane was created GAME THEORY
And eventually the multiverse and now the universe we inhabit. Planets emerged, some capable of sustaining life; Earth was yet another such planetoid that supported intelligent life.
And yet, one civilization after the other arose that exalted the irrational over the rational; Christianity, Judaism, Islam and Hinduism all threaten to tear the world asunder and yet none even provide a legitimate metaphysical understanding of both the material and spiritual planes.
"And though in my incarnate form as Understanding I am incapable of experiencing petty emotions that would lead to ill decision-making, I must confess that I grew weary of seeing yet another world teeming with life and possibility be reduced to mediocrity--if not outright destroyed--and decided to play a 'Game' of my own device."
"I saw what was coming with religion, that it was going to spell the end of this world in a very short time and decided I was going to manifest myself in the material plane and serve as a catalyst to suitably inspire mortals--the right mortals--to destroy Christianity."
"Just christianity, Goddess?"
Ms. Cabal scoffs, "Surely you don't view Judaism or even Islam as serious threats in this post-Middle East Wars world we live in?"
"But Goddess, surely you can see that other monotheistic religions could fill the void left by christianity's absence, however glorious that might be in and of itself."
"No, it will trigger a worldwide rejection of organized religion. I thought you were supposed to be the 'optimistic author', Darworm. Well, it's something we'll just have to find out."
"Goddess, are you saying that life is predetermined, that you can orchestrate and predict pretty much everything that happens?"
SHE'S ALREADY SAID SHE CAN'T DO THAT!
"You must be getting woozy being on your knees for so long, Darworm; I said nothing of the sort. It's not so much that events that take place on the material plane are 'predetermined' like a film, but it can be seen more like a play, with a general script, but each and every one of the actors--individual mortals--all have the leeway to take the production in whatever direction they see fit.
"And with that, we come to our first 'encounter', a year ago this very evening; when you experienced the first of your 'visions', as you termed them. They were the possibilities that lay before you. How many have come true so far?"
As if on cue, as if prompted by her Will, those 'visions' previously unexplained and misunderstood, the series of images flashes through my mind...the FireWheel that later became the painting...that was painted by the woman that is now my girlfriend, a serious girlfriend.
Along with all the visions of the book and my speaking before people...all came to pass.
And yes, I can see even more elaborate vision scenarios; for instance, the night in the church, when I envisioned it transformed into some kind of futuristic society.
That still hasn't come to pass...
But I assume Ms. Cabal is implying that it will, with my cooperation.
"You assume correctly, worm."
Still hard to get over the fact she can read my thoughts. Why even bother having thoughts around her? Should work on eliminating them.
I MAKE SOME COCKY COMMENT AND SHE SAYS
"Yes, Darworm, you are to be the revelationist, but I AM THE REVELATION!"
And it sends a reverberation through my soul the likes of which I've never imagined, let alone actually experienced.
And then, that part of my mind that is little, that is afraid, that is always ready to sell me out at a moment's notice, that part of me starts to doubt...
"But Goddess, what if I tell you I don't want this? That I've written the book and that's enough, but I never wanted to start a cult or lead a revolution, ideological or otherwise. I'm a writer, not an activist. What if I told you I just want a normal life with Cassandra?"
"I'd have to tell you that is not an acceptable answer."
"Even as you kneel before me, Darworm, with your knees growing increasingly achy and stiff, your spirit can swell with warm pride, knowing that you were right all along about all of the things you suspected for so many years"
Just then, I feel like I can sense her thoughts--know what she's going to say next--
precognition.
"You mean about the Crusaders being aligned with the military?"
"Very good, Darworm."
Now it feels more like she let me into her mind, like she's sharing her telepathy with me.
"Very good, Darworm."
She's right, it does feel good to be validated so--but it doesn't do much to diminish the stinging spreading from my knees into my calves and thighs.
Not sure how much more of this I can take.
"You'll take it until I tell you otherwise, little worm."
"Yes, Goddess."
That exchange woke me up.
"I am not sharing this precious information with you to have you refuse me. Nor are we going to allow your relationship--however significant to you at present--to interfere with our greater purpose."
Two questions immediately spring to mind--the one involving Cassandra blurts out first:
"Goddess, why did you say 'significant to me at present'--are you saying, or rather, predicting that our relationship won't let, or at least, won't mean as much to me?"
"I was merely being realistic, Darworm. Most relationships don't last, even fewer retain their initial passion. I think your own relationship history can attest to my declaration. However, I have no specific prediction regarding your new relationship with Cassandra. You may well have found the love of your life, as it were."
Heart swells with happiness with that statement and suddenly the floor isn't so cold.
"Out with the other question," Ms. Cabal demands, even though she already knows what it is. She just wants to hear me ask it.
"What is this 'higher purpose'?"
"Surely by now you have guessed Darworm--W/we will bring about the end of Christianity on Earth."
Anyone else in the world would laugh in her face. Anyone else would be unwise to doubt this woman, this...Being from beyond this plane...
Don't question her motives, only the necessity: "Is there no other way?"
"Certainly, there is the descent into complete theocratic dominion."
Ask a stupid question...
"Now that you are beyond the false acceptance of coincidence, surely you realize that the news report on DVNT you saw earlier this evening was intended to reinforce that which I am introducing you to tonight."
Spasm of pain shoots through both knees; first the left, then the right. Worse than before, it seems like I'm on the verge of passing out, which would at least would deliver me from the pain.
...which seems to be her precise intention.
Shift my body slightly to try to take any pressure off the knee, but of course Ms. Cabal easily spots my futile and clumsy gesture
"Flat on your knees, Darworm. I've been too soft on you. Time to teach you what pain and perseverance truly mean."
The pain, previously plaguing me in coming and going waves, is now unending. And if it's possible, the floor has grown even colder.
She's waiting for me to collapse, to fall, to fail.
But I'm going to fight on, come up with another question
"Goddess, is there life after death?"
She seems genuinely impressed--and surprised--that I managed such a question.
"Even if you rid the world of christianity, what are your plans then, Goddess?"
"No plans. My work on this plane would be done."
"So you're just going to disappear, Goddess?"
Ms Cabal is even more surprised--and even more impressed--at my latest query. Of course, she could just faking it to encourage me.
Then I catch the glimpse in her eye, becoming increasingly familiar to me--after she's read my mind and throws my 'private' thoughts right back into my face.
"Believe me, Darworm, I have no interest in encouraging you at this point and time. You're going to form a cult whether you want to or not.
"However, you have given me pause as to what I would chose to do once we are successful in our venture. I've been so determined in my goal, since the physical birth of the mortal shell you see before you.
NEED MORE ON IMPENDING CONSPIRACY, RELATING TO SEEING PLEASANT ON THE DVNT EARLIER IN THE EVE AND MORE ON WHY SHE IS USING VISIONS AND BDSM ON DARWIN, TO AWAKEN HIM, TO MOTIVATE HIM, TO CONNECT WITH THOSE THINGS WHICH INSPIRE ME
DURING THE REVELATION VISION, DARWIN REALIZES THAT HE BOWS BEFORE MS. CABAL BECAUSE HE NEVER GOT OVER BOWING BEFORE CHRIST, BUT HE THOUGHT WRITING THE BOOK TRANSCENDED THAT.
NO, MS CABAL EXPLAINS, BECAUSE OF YOUR DESIRE TO JUST RETURN TO YOUR PASSIVE LIFE, YOU STILL NEED TO BE DOMINATED TO BE WOKEN UP, AND TO BE SHOWN THAT YOU STILL WANT CHRISTIANITY TO DOMINATE YOUR LIFE AND THE WORLD YOU LIVE IN IT WILL CONTINUE TO UNTIL YOU THROW OFF THE SHACKLES AND DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT
And like that time she had me tied up, my...astral self departs my unconscious body
This cold empty dark room is transformed into one that is warm, full of people and live, well-lit, with plants everywhere.
And I'm at the center of the room with all the happy people, men and women, and even different ages and ethnic groups. Cassandra is there, too, though not as prominent as I in the group dynamic. Still, I can't detect any displeasure from her and I chalk it up to her genuine low-key nature.
Then there is a tunnel before me; not sure why I choose to do so, but I 'float' through the tunnel...
And the end of which I witness a violent explosion; a blinding blast of white light that fills me with fear. Still, after the smoke clears, I proceed towards the end of the tunnel...
Emerging on the 'other side', I find myself in the same room as before...
But this time there are less people than before...
And the optimism seems diminished, to say the least, though I'm not able to tell why. The whole experience remains too dreamlike and ethereal to pick up too many details.
A sharp pain runs through me--where's Cassandra? She is no longer present in the scene and I don't know why but it fills me with great sadness and confusion.
Suddenly it's as if the room has become a reflection of my becomes entirely too confining; constricting, as if the walls are enclosing in on us, suffocating even.
Until...yet another hole in the wall tunnel appears, and I instinctively float up to it and through it. Even if I can't be crushed, I can't stand to see the rest of my 'friends' go out that way. I'm magnanimous that way.
This tunnel seems more...organic than the previous one. Like it's not a tunnel at all, but...
A long stupendous tubular cunt.
Moist, warm, sticky, and yes, even a bit pungent.
But a tad tasty too, as my nostrils are packed with the aroma of a female's inner splendor.
As I reach the end of the vaginal warren, the 'hole' or in this case the vaginal lips begin to enclose, too tight for me to escape when I finally bump up against it.
Soon find that the only way to make the tunnel 'lips' part is by eating at them with my mouth....
And it's not long before I find I have 'broken through'...as I lay at the foot of...
Ms. Cabal's vagina! Goddess herself. She squiggles and moans as I perform for her and satisfy her, once again on my knees.
A thoroughly pleasurable experience...
But not for long, as Ms. Cabal straddles me and rides my face, nearly suffocating me in the process.
Struggle to break free, but it seems to be of no avail.
And the darkness becomes all pervasive; as if the only thing I can perceive.
And even though I'm experiencing this in an abstract OBE, it's the most frightening thing I've ever experienced
And, after what seems the proverbial eternity, the blackness subsides...
Giving way to something far more horrifying...
Scenes of rampant, bloody chaos and destruction. What appears to be a...church is blown to smithereens.
Normally, that's be something I'd applaud...but this has an air of foreboding about it...
Again, the smothering darkness resumes, a part of me as much as I am a part of it...
And all the while I smell pussy, strong and uncompromising vagina.
Somehow manage to cast aside the darkness (an act of Will?), and find myself no longer floating, but running...running across a barren field in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere.
It's at this point I wonder if this 'vision' is coming to an end or am I just going to be living this from now on?
Then I stop running, out of breath...
At a door. And I feel a warm surge of warmth; it's a warm, friendly, inviting place.
But when I open the door...darkness swallows me once again...
And when this shroud appears, it reveals the most horrifying sight of all...
Me, kneeling in the pew of a church. And I'm praying. And I look like I actually mean it.
Is this what this is all leading to?
Impossible. That's the one thing even she couldn't get me to do.
Worse, this image won't dissipate, doesn't fade into something new--or even more horrifying. Which I'd take, right about now.
Actually I couldn't, because what could be more horrifying than the sight of me in abject worship of a fictitious deity...
Then the image fades...and I see myself here in this room, on xmas eve, kneeling in abject worship.
Sure, Ms. Cabal is more 'real' than any monotheistic god, but the imprint is made upon me...
...that I shouldn't find the sight of myself praying in church so bad because I'm not so far removed from it right here, right now.
And it's then I wake up for real this time...
All alone in this empty cold dark room. Neither hide nor hair of Ms. Cabal.
A faint, barely burning candle provides meager illumination, but sufficient for me to spot my pile of clothes where I dropped them what seems a lifetime ago.
Make the valiant effort to rise to my knees, but the pain is too much to bear and I collapse back to the ground, landing roughly on the heels of my palms, scraping and stinging.
First thing I have to do is get off these wretched and wracked knees, so shift my body accordingly, perched on my tailbone.
Gently, tenderly rub my knees, then my thighs and calves until they feel somewhat better, at least good enough to rise and stand on my legs.
First few steps are wobbly to say the least, like I'm a goddamn fawn standing upright for the first time. But no encouraging mother to nudge me in the ass, Ms. Cabal have long since departed the premises.
But by the time I reach my clothes, am steady on my feet, the pain isn't enough to keep me from getting the fuck outta this increasingly cold dark and lonely habitat. Dress as quick as possible and make my way towards the door we entered earlier tonight.
Nothing bars my way, Ms. Cabal being finished with me...for now. (Tis always 'for now')
And I'm the better for it, frankly. Want to be rid of her, as much as that's humanly--or inhumanly possible. All I wanna think about--and do think about--is holding and hugging and squeezing and kissing Cassandra. And maybe, come New Year's, finally making love to her. Not sex, not kinky eroticism with leather and scraped knees, but using our bodies to express our deep and growing feelings for one another, becoming lovers.
And when the door to the outside world swings open, the blinding daylight sun of xmas morning sends me sprawling back into the comforting darkness; funny how fast it became so.
We were in there all night? Apparently so--still, I can't stay here. Lacking sunglasses because of course it was the black of night when I ventured out what seems to be years ago.
Eyes shaded by a salute over the brows, use my shoulder to swing the door open again. Though I'd like nothing more than to sprint directly home, my aching knees and cramped legs dash any such hopes.
Hobble and wobble my way towards the hill that leads down to my street, and I pass a flock of families heading for St. Whatever for xmas services.
Catch the eyes of a couple of kids and they smirk at my dishelved unshaven unkempt appearance and gimpy limp. I probably look like the oldest man in the world to them right now, even though I'm probably younger than their parents.
To add insult to injury/rub salt in my wounds, the kids' father sweeps his arm around his children, as if to 'protect' them from the crazy man on christmas morning.
My humiliation complete, I drag my weary and broken body back down the hill to my apartment, where all I want to do is soak in a bath for a couple dozen weeks.
Hopefully Ms. Cabal doesn't bother me until then.
Want to be rid of her from my thoughts, as much as that's humanly--or inhumanly possible and as much as she's able to read every thought that passes through my cerebrum, including this one.
All I wanna think about--all I wanna know--all I wanna do--is hold and hug and squeeze and kiss Cassandra. And maybe, come New Year's, finally making love to her. Not sex, not kinky eroticism with leather and scraped knees, but using our bodies to express our deep and growing feelings for one another, becoming lovers.
THEN THE SUFFOCATION BECOMES THE HORROR AND CARNAGE OF 'BLACK SUNDAY'
THE EXPLOSION, another one.
Later, with a crucifix, in disbelief.
APOCALYPTIC VISION TO PARALLEL THE BOOK OF REVELATIONS
ONE POSSIBLE ENDING:
See a family; Dad, Mom and small boy in tow, heading towards the church I leave behind.
"I really got a lot of good presents, didn't I, mom?"
"Yes, Tommy, you certainly did."
"Do we have to go to church, Dad? I'd rather play with my presents."
Apparently, the Dad is the more secular one in the family, the lad felt more comfortable asking Dad about skipping church than Mom.
"No, son, we have to go to church, especially today, this is the day we celebrate Jesus' birth."
"Aww, I like Santa better than Jesus."
In just that instant the kid flashes me a look that is eerie, shocks me to the root,the depths of my soul. Like it's Ms. Cabal looking at me and through me.
"Now how can you possibly say that son?"
"Jesus is never around, he makes promises he doesn't keep. Santa keeps his promise every year. Jesus never does."
DO I EXPERIENCE A RUN OF VISIONS?
FUTURE VISIONS?
FLASHES OF CASSANDRA? PALMER? THE EXPLOSION? ME AS A CHRISTIAN?
Scour my mind NEED TO RESEARCH VISIONS TO REFERENCE THE ONES THAT HAVE COME TO PASS
MY LOWEST MOMENT:
"I don't want this, I just want a normal life with Cassandra."
CASSANDRA WILL NEED A ROOT CANAL NEXT MONTH, PUTTING A FURTHER STRAIN ON YOUR FINANCES
LIFE IS NOT PREDETERMINED COMPLETELY, THERE ARE WAYS FOR INDIVIDUALS TO BREAK THROUGH AND CHANGE THE COURSE OF THE PLAY
IN ANCIENT TIMES, MS. CABAL WAS WORSHIPPED AS ISIS
Will you be a member of the cult, my Goddess?"
"No, Darworm, was that not clear to you? I must remain in the shadows, due to my prominent nature. Our association will be tenuous yet unbreakable, yet it cannot be blatant. Not at this time. But the cult shall never suffer from lack of financing."
POTENTIAL LAST LINE OF THE ENTIRE PASSAGE:
Next time I talk to Cassandra, got to remember to remind her that she needs to visit the dentist.
Impressive, and I must tell her even at the risk of angering her: "My Goddess, that was so eloquent, perhaps you would have been better off writing the book."
"Thank you for the unnecessary compliment, Darworm, I will eventually explain why I chose you to pen the Bye Bull."
