THE REVOLUTION IS MY BOYFRIEND

INTRODUCTION

This is the same Document in PDF. It allows for referencing by page number, which is going to prove necessary. This is the same html page archived October 10th 2021. 

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ Ghosteen is the third time my broader awareness has been involuntarily resurrected after I expected it would never come back ever. What Nick did was an intervention of sorts where he stepped in with one album (Ghosteen), and turned what both other men declined (or rendered completely invisible deliberately), into a one album moment of consummation where he apparently assumed all of it.

I didn’t find out I could not get published until two weeks before I heard Ghosteen, which was on a Sunday (October 4, 2019). I finally went to a writer’s workshop because it allowed me to speak to an agent for the first time. I was told by the agent that even though “B” and “W” have both written songs about it, -meaning, “B” has written about reading my book and confirmed what’s in it, whereas “W” has declared fealty to what’s in it in terms of how I challenged him online by asking, “Who will be my witness?” (book, The Raydiant Labyrinth, p.1994, starts on p. 1591); -even though those things have happened and all three tie in, in depth, to the book’s pre-existing (pre-self-published) content, written legal assent from both parties would be needed to demonstrate that to a publisher. Furthermore, even if there’s no lyric citation in the book, just song titles, a publisher would be too afraid to touch it (a problem since there’s 100s of songs from a plentitude of albums from so many artists). She told me the only avenue was to fictionalize all of it and write my own lyrics (that sounds deserved). Fair enough, I guess. But for me the whole point was that it was real.

What happened with Ghosteen meant that everything that had happened didn’t simply disappear, -it got brought back. -The book did not disappear either. It had been part of the process enough to be written about by “B” and had multiple linkages to Ghosteen. -I had been forced into the conclusion that the book couldn’t be produced (that publishers wouldn’t touch it was the two punch in a one, two; -combined with the situation that my ex became far too threatening for me to dare to self-publish the moment I got my copyright), -in combination with the fact that “B” hid what he’d done in plain sight utterly and completely (which put me at complete risk). So the book was buried and so was I. I didn’t know what to do. There was a big delay submitting for copyright because I finished with a ginormous essay I included in the copyright submission (it was hyper-linked into the footnotes, but had no bearing on the book), which put my copyright submission out to April 1st 2014. I was already derailed by then about whether there was even any reason left to go forward with the book; -that was due to how pointless it would be if there was a complete lack of evidence.

My question to Nick on redhandfiles upon hearing Ghosteen was, “Why do you think there is so much appertaining detail that ties in between your latest album and my pre-published book?” (I first wrote to him October 27th 2019.) -When I submitted my question to Nick Cave I gave him full warning of what I thought my book had the existent potential to do, the least of which is the capacity to clear the existent pope of the charges being leveled at him by his European cardinals that he is guilty of heresy. -Needless to say, Nick didn’t answer. (Actually I told him that since he answered a question from me 20 years ago he was effectively off the hook on this one.) There were some elements in fan questions he chose to answer that made me wonder if he’d read my missive, -especially this one. (My letters on this subject easily average over 18 pages. His was more like 30, sent on three Sundays over three weeks in three sections.) 

“But a word of caution, if you steal an idea and demean or diminish it, you are committing a dire crime for which you will pay a terrible price — whatever talents you may have will, in time, abandon you. If you steal, you must honour the action, further the idea, or be damned.” 

-Then came his post of Issue #96 May 2020, where he was fully truthful about “Night Raid” by plucking the inspirational train of thought origin for its key lyric, which he declared he’d have ascribed on his tombstone. He confided that when he wrote it, he’d had the intuition it had yet to arrive at its full transcendent meaning. Having recently supplied him with what amounted to perhaps the ultimate transcendent meaning it could have ever possibly arrived at; it did beg the question of whether the response had a veiled intention personally. I accepted it was the nicest possible response (if it was one), that he could have possibly made, which is how it was absorbed. The calibration of the internal reaction in terms of all the interior levers it triggered, those moments in time where the songs were first known, which is practically ingrained in my being, was insane. This was on top of Ghosteen itself, which in its own way was infinitely worse. Never has there been an album that made me put my hand to my mouth in awe multiple times. Hand in awe moments are 20 years rare. 

Nick Cave also used Issue #96 to mention BadSeedTV. It was the first time I saw “M” speaking in too many years to count. -Beautiful human. It was the first time I was even able to listen to the music since 2013, and the 2009 betrayal before that. -And it all resonated. And once again in too long to count, the chaos in the real world began to resonate in real time. And it was for the silliest simplistic of all reasons (Cave’s tombstone improbably being a personally intended reply), though chaos keeps its own reasons to itself. Chaos began its ordering on May 15th 2020, when I was able to put on BadSeedTV, -simply listen for the first time in so long. It put me through the ceiling, only to put me through the floor the following day on the simple truth that what Cave had produced with The Boatman’s Call in 1997 had never been intended for me, -and what was happening to me now had never been intended by him either. 

I have a lot to unpack with Nick Cave; -it unpacks itself. There was an entire realm that simply vanished with my acceptance of his reply to me, meaning whatever was resonating with him did not leave off after the encounter (and reply) in 1999, but it was vanquished of meaning after that and the connection receded, mainly because I had no choice but to accept his verdict on the matter. (With this last creative album trilogy of his, (Cave is the one who says that Push the Sky Away, Skeleton Tree, and Ghosteenwere a creative trilogy) it came back.) There is so much hurt in what happened, which only surfaces in being brought back awake. I call it the awakening into pain. I pretty much expect it now, which means it is less terrifying than it used to be. It is what I am forced to process first. This was milder, long drawn and quiet. Nothing anyone has done has caused me so much pain as “W” has when he has done it, caused the awakening into pain. There is nothing that could ever compare to the interior cleaving Machina/machines of God was responsible for in 2000. The awakening into pain “W” caused in 2007 was practically mind breaking (book, The Raydiant Labyrinth, p. 2086).

It is that Cave’s act of resurrection has happened twice instead of once, twenty-two years apart, that imparts some level of transcendent meaning regardless of where he himself consciously stood on the matter then or stands now. What I’m trying to get at is that I realize its significance actually lies in that he’s wholly inspired to do what he does, -not the other way ‘round, and I have to recognize that this has an equal weight, because it’s pointing to the Transcendent. Or transcendent, -but this by its very nature must be Conscious. (I don’t see any other way.) The return of Cave’s latent geometry to a threshold where I can actually listen parses the past into distinctions I simply hadn’t differentiated before, -like the realization that Nick Cave was the only man I ever simply proposed to in the real world by a simple act of prose. He was the only individual who wrote the ring was locked upon “her” finger after the eclipse, -which had happened shortly before I met Bono with my first set of missives in the real world for the first time, -wrote that the unification was permanent and the separation over. He was the only individual to say the ring was locked after I’d put my own on my ring finger temporarily with the epiphany during my unleashing of the Machina Mysteries during my takeover of The Smashing Pumpkins’ online forum during “W”’s Machina contest in November 2000, where I committed interiorly just out of faith that what I experienced in that moment would reach and answer for itself from the male side where it was supposed to, because that is what God determines and God was definitely what I was dealing with. If Cave and “W” each themselves didn’t have a clue, then the being relating as lover was inspiring universally and was transcendent of every individual apparently involved. I just accepted that in my own mind. My mind wasn’t given any other choice at the time. Cave’s ramifications in terms of resurrecting my awareness in 1997/98 were dreadful for me personally. It awakened a hope in me so deep I knew that if it wasn’t answered for it would surely kill me inside. Trying to resolve that hope was nothing but pain from the moment it awoke. I knew if that hope was destroyed, I wouldn’t want to live. Enter the last seven years.

I never had any hope before ‘98. Only duty and terrible purpose. My only utility in the universe apparently was that God was quite content with having me sacrificed. And guess what? Killing me on the inside was exactly what that hope got to do in the end, -if we consider the end points to be either 2009 or 2013-17. 

Thanks to the direct effort at discovery on my part, I knew for a fact that Nick Cave has never been aware that I existed at all. So, it’s a very real question: how he can step inside and do this so intimately interiorly and have zero notion that’s what he’s done/involved in inspirationally-? I know it’s not him. I was forced to that conclusion in 1999/2000. We are at least in agreement. We’ve a number of significant agreements, like life missions themselves: 

“However, my duty as a songwriter is not to try to save the world, but rather to save the soul of the world. This requires me to live my life on the other side of truth, beyond conviction and within uncertainty, where things make less sense, absurdity is a virtue and art rages and burns; where dogma is anathema, discourse is essential, doubt is an energy, magical thinking is not a crime and where possibility and potentiality rule. The answers to the secrets of the heart may just be there, in the inscrutable dark of the forest, in the unfathomable depths of the sea, at the uncertain tips of our fingers.”

-So, the dutiful songwriter’s stepped fully inside a second time, personifying the elements of both men who destroyed the hope Nick Cave awakened in me back in 1997, as if it all happened in one night, -fully captured completely with one album. -It is a real, very big why, as in Why did this happen? I decide that’s really the question I should have put to Cave this time ‘round. It lingers for months. But I know I should be the very last person asking the question. I shouldn’t have to ask why of anyone. I should know. It’s not a question Cave was ever capable of answering. It’s a transcendent question. When you shifted the ring twenty years ago accepting a proposal that you thought of as transcendent, just what were you answering to when it’s come back transcendentally all over again?

It got me retreading 2000, which among other things was the closest I came to insanity and having a nervous breakdown. I did not sleep for eight nights straight. It was, on the rational level, the furthest out on a limb I went in terms of whether what I imagined was sane. That is why it became the Machina Mysteries in real time. -Turns out I may have hidden the mystery so well inside what was a flamboyantly vulnerable full splayed display of honesty verging on collapse into self-parody bombast, -I may have succeeded in hiding the mystery from myself too. The answer was as plain as day, hidden in plain sight. I never actually divulged what happened that one night in 2000, not to anyone. It was far too embarrassing to contemplate let alone reveal.  

If one were to attempt a capture my interior dialogues with God/the universe (which virtually don’t exist because let’s say I have abandonment issues) one finds an extremely jaded individual. It’s along the lines this time of ah yes, forcibly shot into the transcendent once more. What’s the point? “I am beside you, look for me!” “I am within you, you are within me, look for me!” -the Ghosteen

You cannot resurrect me with something You can in no way answer for. You have no right to awaken me with something that doesn’t exist. Otherwise put perhaps as You know full well (as I do) that this was never even possibly answerable by the Transcendent. So. Why did this happen? 

What’s happening with Cave this time post Ghosteen and post Issue #96 is that I’m recognizing there’s a continuous unbroken thread to the marriage pattern on his level, which I’ve been made to recognize as the transcendent level. 

-So what was the hope Nick Cave personified so perfectly the first time it was impossible to ignore? Oh, latent adolescent storytelling to one’s self that never amounted to anything. Two individuals who entwined as souls first as an interiorly felt awareness that augmented on itself  as a live feedback, sentience so deeply mutually felt as common awareness that the only way to answer for it if ever they met was to make love the moment they did, because that was what they already were. (-When did I come up with that? -Fourteen.) If you want to know how unbearably close something like that can come to not happening and yet happen, maybe you can bear to read my book. The only thing I ever wanted in life was manifest in Cave with that one album (The Boatman’s Call) as an existing transcendent possibility. (Of course the book explains exactly how this worked. (p. 902)) Because really the only thing I wanted in life was to be with the one person in the real world who I’d already attained a union with in my mind. Basically the advent of Cave blew that prospect wide open for me. -And that was when “It’s Only When I Lose Myself” (9/23/98) hit in real time (the moment I awoke), and I knew it was real. 

Ghosteen did not trigger me sexually, (even though that is exactly what it was designed to do) but it made me self aware I was on a sort of hair trigger and that it triggered something mind-blowing. I didn’t trigger until Issue #96. In other words, I did not trigger until I had a cue that permitted the intellectual arrival at the conclusion that all three men I’d approached on the question of whether there was a transcendent connective consciousness happening with their inspiration were better for the encounter. (Two took eighteen years to bother arriving at that conclusion, and the third, who it was concluded in 1999 was wholly unconscious of what was happening, possibly has a different rejoinder now.) This wasn’t really processed consciously on my part. I know I’ve arrived at the correct conclusion almost intuitively. The rational understanding is but a small facet. It is actually the only reason my mind reacts the way it does, but it is practically non-verbal. 

May 16th 2020 - The following afternoon I was on the kitchen floor in teary-eyed personal devastation, leaned up against the wall (again with no one the wiser, no one saw me). -Because I had “B” to process. I had Nick Cave to process, and I had no choice but to accept that it doesn’t and has never once existed, and that for me is just the sum of loss. I was simply facing that what Cave had done in 1997 had never been intended for me and what was happening now to me wasn’t intended either, -and I crashed on it. What Cave presented to me in 1998 proved to have never been real, and I know it’s not real with him now either. (Writing to him I framed all this super well, trust me, but it’s not actually something I’ve fully processed as hurt, -not until I’m forced awake.) I have personal betrayal to process. I even have last Christmas to process, which was no fun at all. No one would want to wake back up to this. -No one. And neither did I. It is devastating. Believe me it got dark. It got so dark I had to kneel and ask Jesus for forgiveness, and that was remarkable in how it shifted everything. I haven’t been at that mental strait for twenty years. I consider it embarrassing and humbling in the extreme.

The question cycling on repeat, Why did this happen? -ratchets up and down a full scale where I am forced again back to the beginning to question everything from from scratch as if I’m reset at zero and there is nothing at all. I am in so much uncertainty at this moment I’m thrown back to square one on the book and the question of whether I should just destroy it, whether that’s better? That it exists is a shiver of fear. Bowie gave me that sort of fear too with the “Blackstar” video premiere; -just viewing it made me afraid at the outset. It took a lot to process and even have the courage to post the book for the first time in public field at all (even if no one saw it).  

And from my perspective I have betrayal even perhaps by God Themselves to process. Regardless of where that stands, I have that sensibility to process. 

In short I’m a devastated person. 

Why would I even sit down and write it? 

Christmas holiday I made the mistake of ingesting a chemical substance at a nightclub post one of two Christmas dinners because it was the first time I encountered one of my drug imbibing friends in oh, let’s say a decade, and I was really happy to see him, and of course he offered me “e”. I was out with my brother for the first time, the youngest one. I was fine dancing until I did it, then I was not fine at all. I was thrown back into the exact same dilemmas I’d had twenty-five or so years ago and shocked to find not one of them had changed. They were worse now because out of the last two decades I have hardly danced at all and the only dancing I did for a stretch was in a marital context, meaning for his eyes only, -so I’m not even sure how that’s influenced me or if I can reel that back. -Terrified as ever of how quick I turn into the center, just by difference. I forgot too I almost never coupled dancing with drug use. Definitely forgot every trip I ever actually did with this guy (-two?) -were bad ones. Definitely wasn’t prepared to not go out clubbing not alone, and realize it put me in the position of enabler to all my brother’s drug use issues. Definitely wasn’t prepared to go out after a hiatus of not quite twenty years, forget the substance, the hiatus was just as long and that was a giant mistake. It’s not until after the drug I register that in fact the majority of my dancing in the past twenty years has had one viewer in basically a martial context and I’m self-conscious about whether and how much that’s affected me and whether that’s appropriate? Couldn’t have cared less about the scene in the sense of questioning whether anything about the scene was worthwhile. But I can in a heartbeat identify a man in the mell who is there solely to pray over the scene and thank him for doing so, because the scene scared the hell out of me and the scene wasn’t impressed with me either. They could all identify the trip in the fact that I wasn’t prepared to step onto the floor. 

For me it started at, none of the guys seem really happy with the fact that they’re here, they look like they’re suffering it for the girls. They look like they really think it’s totally gay. Which leads to the Q of how narcissistic does it have to be to have this sort of result? That and a tonne of things. Being any good is taken as token for narcissism. Or maybe it’s just the fact that actually dancing with a man is something I’ve practically never done (why would I trust it), which just makes its own implication. I feel bad because it bothers the hell out of me; -if everyone’s dancing for their own sake, there’s zero community. Where’s the social aspect; -do boys just get to jive with girls? It seems like zero. And the only indications of “community” I see are the goals the guys have if they really think this all is as gay as f***. “John I’m only dancing, she turns me on, don’t get me wrong, but I’m only dancing” is the opposite of where these guys appear to be at.) And it’s something as one in hundreds I have zero impact on where this ends up, which is not comforting at all; -so much for purported sensibilities as a global empath. Being one I keep a 100% secret from everyone I know does zero to change my vulnerabilities thrown into a crowd. -Welcome home. You’re still alone. My friend was walking around with an electric halo and the worst thing that could have possibly happened is if he had put it on my head.

I don’t feel sound if I can get taken to zero and worse by a one night “e” trip where even the DJ appears to walk off in disgust and I know my friend will never call me back and I felt damned in the end just by presence, or close to it.  All those years where I didn’t speak to anyone. Fair enough, I HAD ISSUES. I don’t have to take social responsibility for the entire electronic dance craze because I was a participant in my generation, do I?  

The trip thrusts me back into Pandora’s Box and how I don’t want to ever deal with Pandora’s Box at all ever again on the larger scale to these questions I’ve always debated in my mind, of how the fundamentals are such that everyone will probably just take off running in all the wrong ways if they attempt to apply them to themselves. It could get so ugly so very, very easily. It doesn’t really register to me maybe I’ve got thrust back to square one by “B”’s betrayal so maybe I’d naturally get subject to a horrible trip back at square one in the interim. 

Sitting against the wall in the floor in the galley kitchen I find I don’t want to address any of this ever again in eternity either. 

I mean, Holy f***, humanity literally just f***ed over the entire planet on the question of f***ing. Literally f***ed themselves to death with it. So why would you dare to even open a Pandora’s box on a Holy F*** when they’ve already proven themselves such a bunch of collective bumbling bumblef***s they’d literally kill life and creation itself over the bloody question? (Yea I’m real enthused about meeting any of these in a club as utter complete strangers. Maybe a new killer ex!) Like why in holy tarnation would you even want to have that Q to face in eternity? Like even want to put that question on the f***ing shelf, until the afterlife? 

Good God no, -don’t want to deal with it there from ground zero from scratch. Like hell no.

Even if I have “M” still prospectively to deal with. This has gone so well the first two times. Why would I want to even try that one more time with another person, even if it’s potentially possible?

No, too much pain to want anymore.  

I’m so good at disappearing. I’d sooner rather disappear on the afterlife at this point. I don’t want it anymore.

That as a thought, that despair has destroyed my whole sense of purpose inside me beyond death at this point, that is beyond staggering. But it was how I felt. 

I think I’ll just disappear. 

That got dark. 

I’d rather disappear than go though this pain anymore ever at all. 

What about “M”?   

-If it’s anything like the first two (I’ve no reason to hope it won’t be), I’d sooner disappear. I don’t want any afterlife.

Wow.

I want to disappear.

That was part of it. Another part was (not these words), if you are dealt that you are permanently in your life the way it is despite the fact that there might be “M” (which is the hand you’re dealing yourself if you conclude you’ve set “M” on the shelf to the afterlife if you’re just trying to keep the transcendent troth safe from the wreckage reality just keeps dealing and dealing on the situation, or, you’re dealt the horrible outcome you were dealt from the second “W” produced Machina, which was horrible horrible odds of being separated for life through no fault of your own, awareness of which practically split me in half); -if that’s the situation or turns out to be the situation no matter what you try to do, can’t you just accept your state of life as is (this to an individual talking to one’s self who’s stated internally “I hate my life” too many times in the last seven years to count). I’ve been reconciled to nothing for definitely the last twenty years, and certainly am not reconciled to anything since sixteen years of age. -Most of my life I’d have preferred (I thought) to be dead. Now even death has no appeal.  

So I’ve been in rebellion, total rebellion, to God inflicting me with the danger of this probability for a full twenty years. I think any God Who would do that to an individual (forcing them to 100% internalize it to boot) has to be a horrible God. Fundamentally this has to do with whether I trust enough not to blame God and whether I can accept God’s will in my life no matter what it metes out.  

This is the first moment I find myself beginning to reconcile. (There’s countless variables that make it so it might, I won’t start with the first one, -“B” already forced me through that one and that hurt so bad, I’m done. I. will. Not. Go. Through. It. Again. twice. I’d sooner die.)

I’d sooner disappear.  

-Couldn’t you just accept if it happens?

(-It’s not worse than anything that’s already happened, it already happened.)

Granted, with “Book of Your Heart” “B” acknowledges it is a wedding tying it into me. But when he can’t acknowledge that’s real and is pretending I don’t even exist, what does that even mean? When he closes with we’re not even together and it’s just something we choose to do, what does that even mean? I got put through all of it as false. So now I’m on the track of having to accept my culpability that the whole course with “B” was wrong. -How could I think something could shift and transform out of something that was so essentially evil? That the universe could shift it? That I could? How dare I have the audacity to think so? Was I wrong about the whole course of the whole 28-33 years (charting back to either ’87 or ’92)? Was everything I thought about “B” just one giant wrong turn into a new falsehood? And I find myself back at square one having to ask for forgiveness for my culpability in my entire choice if I was wrong. As if what’s meting out is my putting him in this position, nothing more.

I cannot believe it.

Could you accept if it all might have happened this way because you were wrong? And if you were wrong you need to destroy the book. It’s better if it’s destroyed.  

How could you be such a fool as to fall for the same trap twice, if it hit you as coming from God? In believing in the possibility there might be some sort of an exception?  

Yes, I had to repent and ask for personal forgiveness, from Jesus. I’m as afraid as I was back November 1992 and that stopped me for eighteen years, Bible kid. And not stopping him was all for nothing too. 

That was the first time in about four hours I had a creeping sensation of calm and peace and began to relax. It seemed remarkably easy, almost too easy.  

If the book’s too dangerous to do what about “M”? (yes, well, hell in tarnation, -what am I supposed to do if this is about him)? What about the rest?

What do you do now? 

Cave has woken me, once more.  

Why am I awake? 

The first thing I listened to when BadSeedTV woke me up was Grinderman. I was delighted.

ALL RIGHT, THAT IS YOUR INTRODUCTION. THERE IS NO WAY I’M POSTING THIS IN FIVE PARTS, SO IF YOU WANT, YOU CAN READ THE REST HERE. I’ve put a break in the text so just scroll down to the gap.