The Afterloch: Territorial Guilt and the Guilty Unseen

By Spinnaker Weddington

The Afterloch is the second narrative collection of the Unleash The Loch series. Primarily mental philosophy, it establishes a narrative which exists mostly in the minds of those who are stuck in situations without knowing what has happened. Cursed or blessed with unconsciousness and a lack of being able to immediately remember and reflect upon where they have been and what has happened to them, very little communication and incidence ensues and they all end up somewhat trapped in the philosophical mentalities they are snagged into by being void of any connection to any true fictional reality. If no-thing much is happening, all they can really do is 'think' and 'think' they do; but much of their inner lives is philosophy, religion, and social -judicial histrionicism. Essentially nothing is really happening in terms of conversation and incidence. But what unravels is how even when seemingly nothing is happening, so much can be happening inside peoples' minds. Moreover something is happening in terms of their contexts. More a concourse of philosophy and thinking than any true narrative entertainment, what unravels stands in difference to the consistent fictional element of the earlier book and predicates a somewhat sinister expos on the problems of living a life in the mind. At bottom if fiction is not happening, philosophy is. And if such is in somewhat uncomfortable situations, fanaticism is bred.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493116393

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The Afterloch

Territorial Guilt and The Guilty Unseen

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By Spinnaker Weddington

"The most heavy handed, guilt ridden, CYNICAL

book in the world-beware"

The Titles: The Afterloch and The Afterlach: Territorial Guilt and The Guilty Unseen are reserved for all scope of media with content: i.e. Screenplay, Opera or Drama etc.

Copyright © 2013 by Spinnaker Weddington.

Book jacket and cover design by Julia Luber, Los Angeles, California, USA. 2013

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-4931-1638-6

                eBook            978-1-4931-1639-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any opinions, beliefs, perspectives and thoughts are subject of a fiction and/or cognates of a fictional character. They do not necessarily represent the opinion of the author or publisher. THIS IS A FICTION. Even philosophies are hypothetical and no representation of the author’s nor publisher’s belief system nor ideology. All rights in such respects will be wholly respected and protected. Any differentiation of interpretation to such, as any form of litigious action or slanderous misrepresentation of the author, publisher or inferred meanings, as this being no subject of law but fiction, can be and might be prosecuted to the maximum capacity of law. Any references to real life events and realties are not necessarily true nor reflective of any conscription of reality. There are devils’ advocates and there are not. What may be about a problematic fact may only be a hypothecated interpretation. Although some of the attestations may incidentally be relevant to a fact, the author does not represent what should be done about such. All rights reserved.

Rev. date: 12/06/2013

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Contents

Introduction

TERRITORIAL GUILT

The Stage Sets Once Again

How Good It Is

Ann’s Channels

Accounts Of Surroundings

General Perspectives

Enough Is Never Enough

Megan Reflects

The McBurr Contingency

Loch Of Action

Mental Consumption

America, Do or Die

Never Going Back

Under A Canopy of Trees

Subsuming The Life-Hum

Death The Immanent

Knee Deep Of L.A.

A Bureaucracy of Tyrants

Easy To Take Over

Come To Exploit

A Slow Resurrection

Psychological Satisfaction

Hesitation of Differences

Design of Secrets

The Golden Tattoo

A Seductive Mistress

The Value of Design

Seeing Oneself

Tables Turn

Sane Comparisons

The Truth Beyond

A Dominatrix Butcher

What God Created

The World Goes This Way

They Are Not Victims of Themselves

Mantric Convictions

Third Party Influence

Sure-Loch Stir Crazy

Change Triggers

A Haunted Creature

Changing Pace

Is There A Ghost In The House?

Abandon a Grand Illusion

But It Insidiates Despite

Time Kills

Letting It Go

The Comeuppance

Decoy From An Alternative Universe

So Trite and So Weird

A Blatant Recollection

Cribs in the Cave

The Sixth Sense

It Pays off

Blame The Shape of Language

Should Be Happy

THE GUILTY UNSEEN

Not So Simple

Time And Space

The Obvions Prevail

An Embarrassed Human

Perfect For War

Get Out

Time To Think Can Be Devastating

Sean’s Soul Inside The Cave

An Inculcation

An Alpha Personality in Contention

Closed In Submission

Paper in America

Decisions, Decisions

The Balance of Staples

Mixed Messages

The Truth Unfolds

The Map

The Fate of the Male Population

The Chosen Forgivable

Another Her

Another Transport

Search Part Directive

The Manners of Syncopated Existence

Slaphappy and Foolhardy Meaninglessness

The Living and the Missing

Innes’ Ordeal

An Immaterial Absolute

The Afterloch is the second narrative collection of the Unleash The Loch series. Primarily mental philosophy, it establishes a narrative which exists mostly in the minds of those who are stuck in situations without knowing what has happened. Cursed or blessed with unconsciousness and a lack of being able to immediately remember and reflect upon where they have been and what has happened to them, very little communication and incidence ensues and they all end up somewhat trapped in the philosophical mentalities they are snagged into by being void of any connection to any true fictional reality. If no-thing much is happening, all they can really do is ‘think’ and ‘think’ they do; but much of their inner lives is philosophy, religion, and social-judicial histrionicism. Essentially nothing is really happening in terms of conversation and incidence. But what unravels is how even when seemingly nothing is happening, so much can be happening inside peoples’ minds. Moreover something is happening in terms of their contexts. More a concourse of philosophy and thinking than any true narrative entertainment, what unravels stands in difference to the consistent fictional element of the earlier book and predicates a somewhat sinister exposé on the problems of living a life in the mind. At bottom, if fiction is not happening, philosophy is. And if such is in somewhat uncomfortable situations, fanaticism is bred.

INTRODUCTION

T HE AFTERLOCH IS the second novel in the Unleash The Loch series by Spinnaker Weddington. Following the perplexing ordeals the McBurrs and the camera crew survive amidst the lush highlands, they hibernate amongst each other in a fog, both literally and figuratively, as they try to recall where they have been and what has happened. They are beginning to realize they may have to go back to Los Angeles and are dreading so. Megan has still not let go of the original reasons they had escaped L.A. in the first place. In fact, the mental turpitude has gotten worse. Regardless of what mystical extremes she encounters, the causative reasons from the pain of her past simply do not disappear. It has become a function of her moral conscience as her psychosomatic impulse. It is a battle she has lost and remains living like a zombie within. The family’s respective confiscations in several different underground cultures have become repressed memories so they are in profound states of shock yet aware though that they are forgetting something. Changelings and symbols slowly unroll as much a mental philosophy as an iconographic history of their encounters which they piece together for a composite memory: Sean’s back is scribbled all over in gold. Megan gets confiscated to the subterranean dominatrix’s cave. Innes is trying to find his parents. They attempt to make sense of what has transpired and what to do next. The McBurrs are now in even deeper trouble Afterlach : Territorial Guilt & The Guilty Unseen

Territorial Guilt

For some time between, they live in flux.

Few words, strange gazes, actions either unseen or

Far too rough… .

They cast upon each other reflections of themselves

Their inner strength switched to the haunt

Strange jealousy, unspoken, of an animals’ rare pelt:

Who’s identities to whom were lived in actions and not fear,

The women once bedecked such not knowing who

The stranger ones sometimes were friends, assimilating what the others do,

Some were not so suited to life—to live as plain border to die

The obvious with their looks amongst each other—pure sacrifice

Of asking, and soon just wondering-why:

And soon enough collective transport lets them be

Not so alone, all one, so in new form of harmony.

And there they sit as set as there they are,

Each twinned directive of the same some numbered star.

THE STAGE SETS ONCE AGAIN

T HE WORLD THE McBurrs were then living in, upon the promontories of the Scottish highlands, tucked away beside their family’s castle: in waiting for salvation—they understood as a solution by their own devise—which turned out right with no regrets, rather than a helicopter blaring in from the North, clearing the sonorous envelopment amidst all the majestic beauty in the world, which hovered squarely above whatever might transpire beneath—on the ground: amongst the people with their heavy feet and even heavier boots, but saddest—their heavy minds—would have never happened, aside from all that happened in order for that salvation to do so did so. The instances composing their current location, had anybody else experienced even one of them, may have occurred in a different order and from a totally different perspective: only to establish that all that happens on this planet is, in retrospect, a purely individual and unusual experience—each one being perceived, heard, occupied and ideally understood by a different subset of senses and relativities.

It seemed they had given up and were going to live out, as long as they could, whatever they had of the rest of their lives: in bleak submission to the one fact that they didn’t understand in their lives, and now that they didn’t understand the Loch Ness monster nor the tribes hibernating in subterranean embankments near: but would have to continue living their lives nonetheless. That is the thing about life—you have to live it. Even when you’re not in the mood to do so.

They had each stubbed into a pinwheel of relationships so convoluted and bizarre in momentum and abstraction that of nowhere, their personalities seemed to start anew—yet still in proportion to each other regardless of what had brought them there and what they initially meant their leave taking from Los Angeles to be. Instead of reaching a meeting of the minds, and making a decision which would somehow be an expression of each of their opinions and then restructuring their lives—so somehow each of their individual best interests could be met: they jumped boat and simply became ‘new people.’ They had the same names, thus far, and generally looked the same, thus far, but their minds, apart from their first hand conscious awareness, had made decisions to be totally new on a personality level… for what time they could maintain. Their old selves just couldn’t go on living with what they knew of now and how they felt when they truly thought about it. Like chameleons, they transformed: mind, body and soul.

We last left them at a strange point when Megan was alone, inactive, tranced out yet entrenched in a disconcerting shock: she smartly attributed the directive causation to be Innes’ preoccupation with Ann’s crew—who like falling stars in the sky, appeared out of nowhere to be predatory deceptive opportunists with a sexual agenda corresponding more to that of herd animals with no understanding of their target’s needs only then to disappear and show no additional clues to their plan. She had once thought them so astute, fun loving and easy to be around. Now, one moment they were like a swarm—all over her, making any who viewed their predatory seclusions uncomfortable; the next they acted like individuated automatons who had never known Ann as anything more than a paycheck. They looked at her with no emotion whatsoever yet with their bodies struck in such stances as to show that she owed them something and they would not let from their readiness until they got it.

Amidst this enriling oddity, Innes was able to utterly break from his fixation upon them and start on a new path with Sean who had returned from who knows where and where he didn’t know looking to have a plan. His forehead was shining beneath which his eyebrows lifted at the inner edges and his lips were furled and curled: which always meant, he had thought of something complex and solute but would rather actually follow through with the instances to the finale before saying anything about what it was all preoccupying his mind. It all seemed that it was going to be on Sean’s shoulders, to state his call on the matters and that being said, alert all of them to subsequent action to its course: which there would have been no better time for because if the crew were not to be abdicated from their corrosive connections, and perverse motivations, it seemed something very terrible were sure to follow… . sooner than later.

Sean would snap them out of it somehow. He would at least give general motion to the plan if not dissect and depict each stepping stone in its course. He always hand held in some way even if it were not purely obvious and stated. He was just that type of soul deep in regardless of what the contextual circumstance. Everything was set up for him to be some kind of hero alas.

Ann was off in her tent—so Megan assumed—writing away in her diary and Megan was reflecting on her contacts, the hand held device’s light casting a luminous futuristic blue modern intelligent feeling glow in what otherwise would have been a very depressing upsetting circumstance-a disheveled tent flanked upon a stretch of green grass nearby a castle wherein which the residents had offered no hospitality nor escape from the fluctuating conditions outside-monsters and irking sounds and a chronic fog with no mercy-through which anybody could haunt visibly undetected, known only to be by the manipulated mastery of their footsteps, so quiet one thought one was only hallucinating sounds and on their pathway to insanity: she had considered contacting somebody else from her past who she could somehow trust.

Ann had just grown too quirkily abstract to feel any solace and connectivity by. Once she felt a loss of control in respects to the Loch, she never seemed to be quite herself again. Megan missed that alpha directorial energy and that attitude: that there was something wrong with the McBurrs for being so caught up in whatever they were afraid of. She didn’t like to see Ann going under too. She didn’t like that her beacon of strength and conviction now acted like a submissive dour subjugate, shrinking away to her tent in efforts to compose a legible dignity over that which had settled in her soul as pure dominion of its antithesis. For Ann to be subsumed by a beast, just an animal of anybody’s mythological compulsions, was unthinkable. She did not seem like the type to even sacrifice herself to the most intelligently engineered of machines, the most refined and coveted of humans, least a beast with all the grotesquerie of the universe in its sway.

Whatever anybody was, the Loch was simply more so. If Ann prided herself on her astute and systematic compunction in control, she quickly understood, the Loch was more in control, regardless if so in being twisted and intense, yet so very exact despite—as if that and only that is what had something to do with the truth of the universe: and there was no way around that. Ann had been adjusting her mind to understanding she was not in control of her subject matter. That was something she was acquainted with—her subjects had always been difficult but once the problem had happened, she felt in control of how it was organized and presented. That wasn’t the case with the Loch. The Loch had not imprinted into visual narrative. The Loch was not going to supplicate to her expectation of reappearance. The Loch had its own reasons and its own interests and regardless of how much sense Ann would invariably need out of the situation, it was not going to happen. But Ann had to stay in a sense of control regardless, so she quickly mutated her core personality structure into one which felt an incredible sense of control amidst a maelstrom of illogic and chaotic insensibility.

She was trying to accustom herself to being suppliant and submissive. And yet she was intent upon somehow rearing a sense of control in such positions. She would give in only by the implicit that she was actually getting the upper hand by doing so. It should only make sense: there were tons of women who just loved always being on the bottom and always giving totally into whatever felt like it submerged oneself into something greater and more powerful than oneself. That was the whole model of fucking most women had come to adore despite what sociological orientations sought to concede their self-conceptions to plain functions of dominance and power. In fact, many women, especially through women’s’ lib had only turned into the real bone suckers on every systematic orchestration of public control. There wasn’t an iota of true independent visionaries amongst the female lawyers she knew. They seemed more than anybody just to breed a sense of power and dominance through a system which ran on institutionalized power actually undermining individuals for any boon they could garner from a public and popular identity. They could get their women’s’ lib but they did not proactively un-do a single thing men had done with the law. In fact, they only added the other half of the population to any undermining abuses. In ways they must have felt it to be simply an added formula of making love to men—to keep the laws that they had made and not do much beyond. As if their passion, love, and trust now vested in another power (law) they yet could remain in body still themselves, as women. Adding that sense that they now shared a language together, a money together, and a common shade through which to see through. Another aphrodisiac at bottom, especially when it came to the desanctification, humiliation and bondage of other women. Now they had their allegiance of their men through being part and parcel of their law they let be exactly as was,—caring nothing but to join them, not even to fix what they’d done wrong!

Showing off that they had gotten into it only for themselves, only to add themselves to the power in abuse structure the men had constructed of the law years ago. Of course these were anomalies, but they were anomalies which afflicted hordes of people. It was the point: to shout for and make a to-do for their self-determination and independence only to join ranks with an institution radically undermining many of the individualizations and autonomies of others. Matter in point: it was the power and inclusions they were fighting for, not the freedom, not the purpose of power, not helping others who weren’t part of their in on the in power structure—be they man, woman or child. They were fighting for their own rights as a group—as women: only for themselves: not the civil liberties for all. It was an exclusionist propaganda—for women’s’ rights, not peoples: while there may have been men and women down the street locked up in a mental ward for years due to what they had told such individual would be a several day action over domestic violence.

But even the novel new women in law who had chanted for their rights with their signs and their fists only cared about themselves, in their dignified state as being women now with rights in the law—not some protection of some humiliating indignation of an individual. They too could only care about themselves and saw no greater power, no greater number than being women. They did not care what happened to other women: they only wanted to make sure they were part and parcel to whatever abuse the men were afflicting on the planet as law. And since their only redemptive feature was that they were women—they used that to gain power: as they had no superior nor morally righteous beliefs as plain individuals. So to be women to gain power made it all so delightful for them: so delightful that they forego dealing with anything difficult and uncomfortable.

They were fighting for whatever that ego of defining themselves as ‘the public’ the public good is for: none other but themselves. They’d facilitate the taking of anything valuable to another through such law they were now a part of to buttress up the power structure they had set themselves as the wings of. They now had a group name for each other amongst themselves in conduction of the accepted law: the public good: however they justified it to themselves, if they ever questioned their own practices as a profession and institution of the public—all they instituted was the profoundest of lies and deluded senses of right, entitlement, and control over others to be solely the spectrum of a reality they had created out of their ego’s wants and ‘good’s—even who they needed to die to maintain their balance in delusion, deception and evil: they were twindling genetic trades with those they overpowered through false rites and rights and spading people to up up their strong holds. Their brains could not detect what they needed done to others to maintain their own delusion now made real in common brand and the camaraderie of associates. But they had it done… . they had it done: the humiliation of another’s self-possessionary soul and sense of their word being their own determination and decision of their own fate is what they enjoyed destroying most. These mental states they easily transcript to themselves… . pure plagiarism of emotion and sensory connect and so control and so gloating in pride they became, having stolen true mental possess and emotion and sense of ownership from another: it was all transparent to anyone with conscience, morals, or a deep respect and love for life they so swapped for sole their pleasure.

They, as women, did not lift a finger against the civil abuses implemented long ago in an archaic law practiced mostly by men at one point. They felt they had achieved some far fetching brand of civil liberties, simply by setting themselves in on the institutionalized power of men. But once they got their female lib in, they saw it as an end in and of itself and not as a medium to any across the board improvement for civil liberties of the human race. The same for the homosexuals. They fought like hell for their own rights, but they did not do anything for the rights of all. The things which could affect individuals, gay or straight, unfairly-in violation as trespass of an individual, they merely branded as some wrong which happened to so and so because so and so was a homosexual at best, but usually ignored any matter more complicated and true and transgressive of individuals’ rights to go around and scream homophobia and feel like patron saints of the moral vendettas they were now shaping civil liberties to: ignoring its civil violation of individuals in general: serving only to masquerade and further entrench the plain crime in a personalized hocus pocus making it only more difficult on those who had been trespassed by such with no claim of homophobia: In fact they made their platform so headstrong that all they really accomplished was masquerading all the complex of wrongs so much worse than merely not giving the blessing of a conflicted law to their ‘love and caring’ union. These were terrible and traumatic exposures of the evil and selfishness, rock bottom, of human nature. They only added more numbers to the empowered and abusive dimensions of the populations. Self-serving, selfish and leaving the somewhat selfless further in a hole.

They never thought rights for individuals should come first. They, like women’s’ lib, fought only for themselves and their own self-centered needs but never really used their gained power and rights for any across the board civil goods; it was like they got involved only to be empowered with the rest of the abusers. Nobody won cases when it had to do with individual merit, integrity, exposure, true honor and freedom. They seemed to wage power purely through public definitions and ways in which people were violated as part of a group—homophobia, misogyny; and those people never stood for their whole group in their ‘judicial pursuit;’ through pure greed and self-reverence through a public identity they took whatever spoils they could for themselves. Suddenly the ‘value’ of their cultural identity was consumed by the price they got for compensation of its ‘insult. ‘Their lawyers nonetheless got their power lunches, their Porsches and their sense of adult professionalism. Though technically, everything they had done was basically financial crime, vested in ‘value’ crime and public exploit. But people understood themselves only through how much money they made and what they ‘got’ out of other peoples’ skills and developments and work. She considered herself blessed nonetheless; that at least she was successful with something she wanted to do and had not been cornered into out of violation and the plain negligence of all those who had taken oaths in such profession.

Deep in she understood how magnificent the revision into a personality defined by the Loch as opposed to her accustommed success was. That the only thing that should be intriguing her mind and sapping her nerves and tolling her psyche was something so fascinating and intriguing. Enabling a mere human to hypnotize her seemed pure sacrilege; but once she had the possessant of the Loch is where her real life began. On a silent and unadmitted level, she felt more powerful and pure than ever. It was not a human being drawing her mind out from its comfort zone. It was not a pathetic and evil human being tolling her soul. In that way, Ann was quite spiritual at heart. Although she did not talk about it, she felt a profound and intimate relationship with God and by such she meant a true creator of the universe who was omnipotent and omniscient in all matters except for controlling humans. God had implied a compunction of free will through somebody for something at one point and Megan believed this to be something she had to hold true. Even when it seemed like people were automatons of something neurally bonded over her by some unloving and misunderstanding entity, she still had to consider that their job would be to unbind not add insult to injury as if it were all a saving stone, empowerment, character match to them. Though her life had proven otherwise for sometime, she still felt it her ideological responsibility to believe there were people different from them, the evil ones, out there and that she had to retain some aspect of her better and purer and happier soul for it to be recapped and true triggered at some time in the future. Now that she had seen the Loch for real she felt this deep connection only more so—that one never knows when a surprise will intervene to disconjoin long build ups of pernicious energies. If it’s a bond of the evil, it has to be broken, eventually. She pretended to feel alienated and confused, but deep in she was only trying to create distance between herself and her crew and the McBurrs because she wanted to feel one with the power of the Loch. She wanted to go through an anthropomorphic revision of her nature. Even though the Loch was clearly not human, she nonetheless believed that its meanderings and waverlings and manners through time were the recovenance of good; anything so stealthy and pure just had to be good—Megan felt, for it seemed that it were the only thing smarter than evil, the only clever and agile and flexible enough to overcome however perseverant, piercing and derailing evil had been. Nothing was so wandersin as the Loch.

She had never liked herself. She had respected herself and she had even understood herself. But she did not like herself. She understood herself simply to be a medium of integrity to her subject and systematic work but she knew that in being the person who accomplished what she believed in through work, she was foregoing so many potential dimensions of existence. Finally she had an exit from compulsion to her purpose. And she also had an outlet to forego any interest in human beings which deep in she had always thought of as boring and limited: none of them seemed to push themselves beyond the obvious and simplistic; things always seemed to be a matter of life or death before anybody paid attention to them. People displayed a lack of fear of God which insulted her most deeply and due to, she hated people. She hated people for their lack of fear of God which she understood to be a lack of respect for God and ultimately a lack of love for God. Which boiled down to a lack of love and respect for everything created by God as well. She knew people did not care about anybody but themselves, but also that they did not truly care about God either and had insidiated and sabotaged all decent conceptions and diagrams as to what God was and how she understood God to be part of the world they had lived in then. She was so relieved to divert all this fanatical compulsive compulsion to God onto the Loch. Now she could be understood as cool anyway, privy to magic and the extreme; unlike those tacky religious fanatics she had always had a phobia towards, despite that deep in—she were one.

On some pathetic and horrific level, she felt God was the only energy which loved her in the world and yet through human ill and evil, she could not really feel this love and instead chose to act as if she did not believe in God. Now that she had witnessed an ancient creation of God’s, something long before the Bible, long before Jesus Christ, even long before magic and machines, there existed a creature which seemed to be designed by God: mammoth, mercurial, agile, invisible when need be, and visible at its disposure; she even felt like the Loch was what God had made to represent something about existence which would be inexplicable in any form but living matter: something which could never be sacrificed to the potentially inept and imbecile word and impulse of humans. It was not that God did not give people a chance to be right and pure in what they did; it was simply that they never sacrificed enough of themselves to acknowledge correctly what they did not do right. In fact perhaps they did understand but were simply too cruel and arrogant, too into believing in themselves as the end all before God, to acknowledge what they did wrong and why. They did not want to admit why so much of their power came from what they did wrong, not what they did right. They prospered in that what they did was wrong and in violation of God. They loved through violation of God. They lived through violation of God. It was their pleasure and their prosperity to violate God first. It is what pleasured them most. They found great pride, great ego and great love through violating God. In fact, their greatest sense of truth was to believe that God did not exist for they knew what evil they got away with and through such decided God did not exist or was worthless in not being able to stop and kill them in their violation. So they provoked and antagonized God.

They contrived elaborate means of violating any orthodoxies of God and religion especially. Through such their effort was to somehow poison and contaminate any pure power in such orthodoxy and any pure protection of such identity. It thrilled them and fluttered their egos to know that they had violated a core principal. It made them feel like they had gotten away with a crime and it made them feel like they would get away with many more. Without consequence to their violation, they were able to pretend to themselves that there would not be such. They used religion solely to imply their own consecrations through power; by encountering no punition of their violations, they were able to determine themselves as an end all and a first and last being. It was like they had twisted principals of Machiavellianism and a twisted disguised form of fascism into their ideal of religion. Because they had confused religion for politics and politics for religion. They had confused law for religion and religion for law. They used all to violate and to violate God as well. In fact that was their deepest motivation—to violate God and to violate God’s definitions. To use axles of orthodoxy as pernicious insidiasms was their additional volition. To use language as lies disguised in the axioms of truths was their additional agenda. Absolved from a sense of punishment, as they had not yet so encountered, they felt immune from punitions. They could not esteem the future or simply a catalogue of time. They found themselves in as close to corroborations with pure delusions and illusions functioning as reality as they possibly could. Through roundabout and highly complicated measures, they even killed children to extricate the innocence of them to their own self conceptions. They, of course, used immeasurable and roundabout hidden ways of doing such—something only God understood and humans, how stubborn they were in understanding life a certain way: God could no longer reach them. Such was their work and their reason in doing what they did and avoiding what they avoided. Such was their plan and their mastery.

The state had made any question of their pure violation of God given orthodoxies functions of discrimination. People had gone into a state of functioning only through the paradox of thinking themselves their own determinations in respects even of religion, which is supposed to be sanctified and preserved for God’s laws and values. They violated religious orthodoxies only to violate God and experience egos of such complete delusion and wrong as to do what they could to overpower God as well. They practiced deceit, artificiality and violation as religion, thinking this akin to art or masquerade: they had no discernment and no self-restraint in terms of standing for any right for themselves regardless of who and what they violated in satisfying themselves this way. Regardless of who they essentially murdered in doing things this way: they had set the benchmark even of religion as deceit and delusion and feasted off the minds and futures of children in doing so. Soon enough they sought to define even gender as simply a function of medically cultivated rearrangements and chemicals touched and manufactured by human hands: they sought to delete God and nature from the equation entirely and needed many children killed to satisfy their belief systems and nature. Their egos feasted off of the deaths of children casting themselves in a state of childlike impulse without self-question and decision with circumspect. They feasted off of mutilating the naturalism of identity which children barely notice in themselves to a complex and connoitered burden of consciousness and social and political inclusion. They wanted the world and life to be only the determination of their artificial rights and protections. They wanted the world to be only consequence of their perverse and unnatural adult desanctification of living—living as being as doing and feeling and saying what is on one’s mind and not what one is told they are allowed to think, say, and feel by another’s command. Even if the command is said lovingly and caringly, they meant it only to be an erasure of that individual’s natural impulse. It almost made it worse to be told what not to do in a sweet and loving and natural matter—for a child who was merely following what impulse felt right to them.

Evil is of course a mastery in its own ends. Usually and sadly, evil is more intelligent than good because evil is more likely to function by systematic intelligence: it is plainly and obviously not a function of love and first impulse, first feeling: it is a twisted consequence convened by layers of experiences and oppressed hatreds and repulsions—things which happened upon oneself in the way an illness does and perhaps hate is an illness which one can truly not control: it is usually based on a logic appendate to an instance through which one’s impulses were turned from an associational of love to one of pure hate; it becomes intense hate through associationalism because one hangs onto their own identity and associationals in those feelings of love and when these tracks lead one to only that which one can hate through that point in time has flipped to antithesis: as soon as love is out of the picture, evil is stronger and more intelligent. Because evil is usually a function of knowledge in the first place. It is not an emotion nor feeling based on impulse and naturalism. It is a deduction from a fact, usually one which used alterations on love to instead create evil through hate, and shock. As soon as love is out of the picture, evil prevails and evinces power far beyond and far above good. Good is often weak and clueless as to how truly evil and truly powerful evil can be. Evil never wears the cloak of its true nature. It is always disguised as good and is always presented as good. Evil never stands forward and announces I am evil. Evil never shows its true face and achieves its power by using the sloganisms people naturally fall prey to. Freedom is supposed to protect good but is used as much to protect and produce evil. Generally evil is stronger than good. Because so few people are truly practiced in it. So it is not understood whatsoever by those who are not. And the more privatized it is, the keener it blossoms.

These qualities so exquisite, these other things so rare.

One in such abundance, while with evil all wonder only—where… .

As if it were so hidden, and hard to find despite it being

Everywhere all at one time

And in such state, the fight becomes more intense, when there is less

Of, as in evil, perhaps as well in love, while the consequence in blood is hero, figurine, totemic idolatry,

All things God mentioned not to do, they let them be

They do them anyway, but oh so few,

As if to differentiate by limitation is the good, in same delineation

And you would, if you were someone other than you said,

Somewhere between what’s living and what’s dead,

HOW GOOD IT IS

B UT GOOD IS easily understood. Good is obvious. It is so common, people wake up every day and stare it point blank in the face. Practically everybody knows what good is. One merely has had to see the sunset a couple of times and have some good food and notice a couple of nice buildings. One merely has to know some water isn’t poisoned, and a couple of other sensations. Good is so obvious and so upfront that everyone and anybody knows what it is; even the evilest people of all of history have known what good is. But evil isn’t as easily and readily and simply known as good. So good people have a very tough time detecting it when they remain outside of it all together. They’re scared just by looking it in the face and perhaps being contaminated with its power too, as it is so often intoxicating in its liberation from the mundane straps of existence, that they will sorrily become it also. And the effects of evil are all too instant to uncustomary states, usually states which do not engage reaction and response. In fact, that only strengthens its power and increases its power.

Good is easy and people only want more of it. So there is always more of it in abundance to get. It is so abundant people rarely figure they have to protect and maintain it. There is always more good. So the mind knows in some way. It can go on forever, everyone assumes. And anything which induces one into wanting more of it has some inherent sustainability value. It is not necessarily something one has to hypnotize themselves into obtaining. It all feels obvious and natural in ways. Even the discomfort from overdoing it with good is one of pleasure and great distraction and diversion from anything bad and evil. Moreover good has all shades of nature in personality appeal. There are good things to want which are easy to attain, matter of course, matter of next impulse. And it all feels very organic and natural. There is no mental hypocrisy nor sense of unbinding in its pursuit nor its obtainment. It almost always feels pure and there is no sense, unless schooled, of true negative consequence. Nobody looks at good as something which will invariably have evil consequences. Usually even the consequences of good are good in some way and can be easily justified no matter how many stages these sustain past the initial good.

This is so obvious in certain kinds of love, the consequences of its sex being babies, and more people, and more good and something which becomes good testimony of one’s own act day in and day out possibly forever, through all of time, in production, creating more in the future and then more good, seemingly forever: there seems to be no possible bad at all. There seems to be no possible evil at all. Good begets good begets good, possibly forever and all of eternity only leading to more good. And this becomes custom; it is not even weird or estranging. Nothing seems simpler. Practically everybody can do it and nobody feels any hesitancy about it. It goes on and on forever as the perfect good.

Evil for those who are good though represents upright something which has to stop. That alone is a cagey feeling one might not be accustomed to. Moreover, since good people are so accustomed to keep going and going and going, really knowing how to stop something which is not under their control is almost mystifying. For one, a good persons’ first reaction is that they can’t relate to such a thing for the life of them. In ways it represents a kind of death to their consciousness because there is no practicable manner to assimilate this evil into their lives. They also wonder why they would be the ones who would have to do something about whatever it is. It doesn’t seem to make sense in the first place. And so many people are so accustomed to making sense of everything. So the challenges are somehow taking on more duplicity and exponential multiplicity and soon enough, the only real reaction some have is a kind of shock. Which is typically a highly ineffectual state.

Evil finds itself strongest through religion. Because they have found the exact weak point of good and love by being in a purported contract with God, however unwritten it is. However much God does not agree! But evil knows how to find its way into religion—so easily, so shamelessly, so intense and so strong: It, evil, not religion, is at its strongest in doing so. It has suddenly set foot in the farthest parameters of wherein which some people, good people, would expect to find and need—only good. But evil has found itself there, harvested there and cultivated there, and at its strongest and most elusive too. Here evil uses such deep needs of people or metaphysical laws of the universe having nothing to do with what we admittedly understand of people: that it reaches its state of its strongest apotheosis. Many people seek to corner evil into politics and public practice in hopes of detouring its power from religion. Which they don’t even admit that they are doing. It only works sometimes. But people in their purest sense want what happens in politics to be evil, so that they keep their bonds on God pure and separate from such terror. But they have found their ways into the exploit of the orthodoxies, and so soon should die. At least so at their deaths. Eventually they will be—dead, but life has to be survived despite them nonetheless. Life has to be survived despite them, as life, not death, not living death neither. Life has to be strong and good and clean of them.

ANN’S CHANNELS

Life lived more from curiosity, not love

It strange, unnerving, humiliating so because,

Lust now seduction though what seems to have no need for you—

Deeper and deeper, through and through

The great third party demonstrifies its point

The game exposed, yet detection can anoint

Its fact in time by no other hand

What once reclusive, now so understand

It may not have, now so felt foreseen

It should not have, now like time between,

It could not have, also how it’s been,

But time stopped still

That is how it’s seen.

And will what will you can to forget what’s been.

A LTHOUGH TO EVERYONE else present, Ann seemed to be profoundly depressed and agonized by being so outside of her typical element, at heart she was falling into a new sensibility and actually feeling that she may have crossed upon where to go with her future. So many ‘real life’ crime shows and biographical vignettes on crimes and situational crime exposés had popped up throughout the years. Yes, they were still number one on the Nielsen ratings but that was only because the audience had so diffused; several other channels had shown highly similar to her own by that point and it seemed at any point the tides could shift and the new generation of audience preference would take center stage and a new brand of products would somehow think it was some other show drawing their marketing group and soon enough, the show could tank. She felt especially precarious in that the current fiasco could be a tipping point. If they didn’t come up with something complete within seven days, done and ready to go, the channel could very much use the matter as reactionary cause and trigger to a decision, what would most likely be an ultimatum; that seemed to happen sometimes:

A new executive on the board, who may not have even known, that their show accounted for over ten years of the channels best ratings, who really felt no longstanding allegiance to Ann and her crew, might just step in ready to make a brash move for attention and control and might use any change in dates and timing for a true power trip considering themselves to be somebody really calling the shots regardless of how stupid their decisions were. It happened here and there; that suddenly the cultures’ tastes had changed, usually become crasser and stupider, but that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was for some very lucky young imbecile who happened to have an MBA to get to feel like a star of some sort to the channels’ management and canning a long honored prototype was their perfect opportunity.

So while the McBurrs and the crew thought Ann was having some psychological breakdown in her little tent after being exhausted by the Loch Ness monster and whatever it was the crew had been doing to her lately, she was actually brewing over a new direction to take her company. She was in a state of dire logistic professionalism actually. She was reflecting upon creating a show similar to the one she had, in it being based upon real life events, but in this case it was going to be all about what people think is supernatural but is actually not so. In the same way that most people thought the Loch Ness monster did not exist but that it had been proven to her that it did, she was going to prove how many things people considered myth were actually true. She was writing out various options on subject matter and approaches. She even considered creating her own channel and was doing lists of what advertisers could go with what shows and why. That had never been her responsibility. She never reflected upon the fact that their whole momentum was based upon what commercial time slots had sold and really saw the engagement as an intercourse with the channel and not the backbone of the channel mediating that success.

But now Ann was obsessed with every detail and realizing that in ways she had just been somewhat of a spoiled little artist getting to concoct her weekly shows which did nothing for the world except provide some information which as well did nothing for the world. She didn’t know if getting peoples’ problems off of their own minds by watching tales of other peoples’ losses was really any valiant work of help in the long run and considered that perhaps if those people would have better incentive to face their problems, they might actually get to the point where they could do something about them. Especially in that some of these problems they ignored, were actually becoming the problems of others—inducing deaths right and left, suicides left and right and people into opinionated sociopathology. Divisionary sociopathology was fast becoming power and authority. They were intent upon making the world worthless. They were worthless to civilization and so they wanted to make the world worthless with them. They did so worst and most in areas which were associated with sophistication, education, even enlightenment. In fact it was often those considering themselves the most educated and sophisticated practicing and proliferating the worst of abuses. People were growing powerful and rich by avoiding and ignoring real problems they bounteously sloughed off on others as a double boon for themselves. They knew that by implementing and cornering others into noticing and facing the true barbarity and perdition and sociopathology of their wrongs and their allowances and their decisions, that they could destroy such people: they used their decisions to sabotage their competition, their correction and their witnesses. That was their main goal, to kill their witnesses which they used tricks which induce suicide to achieve. They only saw themselves as right no matter what wrong they did. Soon enough, everything was a function of inversion. And whatever wrong ever capacitated their power, they needed more and more of. They were vampires—smiling but clueless, that God knew and had writ their eternal punishment and erasure from all future existence in a consecrate stone.

Whatever. She could run it around all day till she were grey. But at that point she had decided it was time to have a backup plan to whatever shakedown might resolve from the fact that they had tried something new and weren’t necessarily going to deliver on it.

She had also grown more interested in adolescent personality. Of all the McBurrs, it was only Innes who she felt any compatibility with. Megan represented some kind of Joan of Arc to her at that point but utterly off her rocker. It wasn’t a time of swords and horses and visions. Rage was raw and estranged linguistic. She couldn’t understand how somebody could be so obsessed with problems that had happened in her past. Innes did not have much of a past to be drawn down into and undermined by. He was a fresh template whose emotions could be taken seriously and whose feelings could shine light on the present, not be mere iotas of a historian’s archaeological psychology imprints. But Megan, it was as if she had a disease which had placed her brain only in a function of negative instances. It was as if there really were no time only instances of occurrences and that factor needed Megan lock jawed in those buried in the past; things which nobody could really connect with in any temporal naturalism. That which could only ostracize and alienate her. Ann thought it a shame that perhaps this person was truly living as some abstract reconnaissance of time being only certain instances which had happened during such. And whatever that meant. Ann didn’t feel like figuring it out. It was all too pathetic and sad for her to bare. Here she had a wonderful healthy son and an attractive husband and was stomping around Scotland, but all she talked about were the police or some weird and awful thing which had happened back in Los Angeles. It was an illness despite the right eon—in logos space and word to matter, she had been cornered into naming instances of ‘crimes’ which the rest of the world had let pass by. As if her brain were forced to be composed of only threat, accuse, murder, and so had gone into shock; her actual brain had gone into shock—not just her vulnerable emotions, not just her morality vein, but her brain.

Ann figured the woman was diseased by something she herself had no understanding of. If anything, she felt sorry for her. She didn’t even resent her that much for confiscating her by request into her current circumstances. She just felt an unnerving pathos for her which she didn’t quite understand. Because if anything she should have already used up her patience with her and been gone, but feeling sorry for somebody for some other reason besides a trenchant murder in the family or whatever it was her standard show may be about, was somewhat refreshing. She felt plain sorry for her personality, at bottom. It just seemed incredibly unpleasant to be so chronically trapped in such cynical negativity; regardless of what truths lay behind her chronic complaints, regardless of what reasons truly substantiated her obsessions, regardless of how terrible whatever happened to her was, it seemed any sane person would have been able to abandon all memory of such unfortunate defilements and go on with their life with sincere gusto despite.

It was strange feeling sorry for somebody as a grown adult. It didn’t seem right. That seemed to be something so high school. When they would decide in their cliques who it was who seemed pathetic and tragic. And then make their merry way through their systems of social ostracism and abuse. It seemed by then professions had been cultivated to create this kind of ostracism and abuse amongst adult and career age populations. They really believed the teen manifestations to be harboring some profound power of human nature they needed to maintain as a function of power despite people being on in years. But it all showed so clearly still: the types of cases the lawyers would take as opposed to those they wouldn’t. It was like they still played by the same game of popularity and societal fads but now with millions of dollars and families of their own, freedom and the civility of life at stake—causation and manipulation and undermining—now all of someone’s real life, not just their childhood-the insouciance of which they were using for their own professional egos, denying the innocence to children.

Now the stakes were bigger; it wasn’t just ostracizing somebody from lunch or failing to invite somebody somewhere due to one’s blissful self-centered trance. And as the changes take place and the exchanges become one power for another power, life itself is changed; the spirit of life is changed; it can be made foul; or it can be resurrected and anew. Right can be easily reinstated in certain dimensions, and other things unmentionable can make it practically impossible. Now it was the capacity to truly take things from people—their property, their freedom, their children. The trades are bargained for and the transactions tkae place; they need to make what they have taken feel like it is now theirs. They need the children marked somehow with every trace of their violative pleasure and sense of positional occupation: that they are the real parents—being the public controls’ assigned.

Now peoples’ professional opinions got to function as a true determinant not just a little teen game. Now the consequences were not just social games but purely and surely the tactics of war, with language functioning as a strategy to overtake and quarantine and capture. Now it was not just a function of personality but a function of a uniformed and standardized power: the evil threat and wrong of which they ignored as if in a trance of its power rather than acknowledgement of its wrongful fact. They blossomed in the evil power of it without really having to do a thing to strategize and create such power. They made it a function of medical fact of the body to overtake and take and destroy an individual’s property and possession. They feast off of having the upper tongue on this overpowering of people through hibernate in their own physical functions through an illogical law trumped to their benefit and timing.

They made it a function of their entity and agency connectivity to use another person’s desecrated possessionary rights as advent and anthem of their ‘group’ power. It was government and law enabling such: once it is that way—what is there left? And how they grow addicted to it. And how they have no clue, no consciousness nor question of themselves. Typically, it induces most of their victims into suicide before they have a chance to figure it out. And this they want—as otherwise their crime and method are know: They feast off of having the upper tongue on this overpowering of people through hibernate in their own physical functions with an illogistic law. The accountability has been placed on somebody else’s nervous system as they make themselves one all together in bad to make it seem right to themselves in being one all together in bad, in a common delusion. The trick they use for their power-be it good or evil—is known! Even if you never wanted to know it. You live with it like a life sentence—and you never did anything wrong to have it tracked on you in replacement of a new last name through marriage. They use it to induce themselves in a trance of agreement amongst each other no matter who they violate to do so, in doing so. They are the worst of animals in states of delusion and lies so intense about themselves that they don’t even deserve to share the name with a soul. They are soulless. And so once dead, shall be eternally lifeless forevermore as well. No bodies, no lives. But in this one they are off in a glorious state of flight in being a common tongue whilst setting up slaves to be landing pads and launching pads for trigger impulse to their own.

They held themselves unaccountable despite being totally informed as a function of their professions. Its hold over others spatial autonomy and mental autonomy and location and definition emblazoned them with egos of being practical vicars of human history upon the last frontier wielding a banner of dominance in mental trance they never had to lift their tongues to a word for on their own proactive intent. It was so evilly powerful, they were truly hypnotized by their own wrong and in ways it did wonders for them. It stabilized their mental trances, gloating, imbued by a state of dominance that was logistified by the law for their mental states to overrule and flush out long past periods of time they were singularly present to. This was how their true sense of egotism set in. By using tricks so evil and twisted upon others that they could not even unravel them themselves; they knew not to as these things had empowered themselves so they would have no reason to undo what had worked for themselves, no matter how wrong, inhumane, twisted and demented it were.

Perhaps only some were profoundly evil themselves—by true nature and not just for their own lazy and solipsistic ultimate trance of pleasure in dominance, convenience and disrespect for others. But ultimately not taking notice of and acting upon certain things is a kind of evil nonetheless. People might argue it was not a responsibility of their specific professions—it was not like they were lawyers utterly ignoring a constant threat of false imprisonment every day of their professional lives; with their neurological egos feasting off of it