Diaries#2

“I entertain the notion that our entire country is a construct” -The voices in my head, talking to me of their imaginary place of origin.

“If your entire armed forces are a construct, then may they attack several other, constructed entities”. I responded.

I like to warmonger, and be aggressive with the voices. There’s no telling what could happen if they fall out of line.

I do frequently get some humor out of hearing voices in my head and being schizophrenic. The voices in my head have declared me their “World Emperor” and have questioned me about my place of origin “Earth”. I laugh at the voices in my head, who seem to me, to act, at least partly or wholly, as bots or machines might respond to a query.

Besides, those who know me know I’m a rather humble and uneventful person. There ain’t no Emperor to me.

But what the heck. I’m World Emperor and the rank of G-d and above the law of “mere common folk”. Sure thing. I agree and spur the conversation forward, issuing commands, and pour myself a brew.

You need to have an Ego the size of Canada to talk to these voices in my head. And with some authority, too; else they can get out of line.

More in the coming days.

Diaries: Adverse possession of continental Europe (Schizophrenia).

I hear voices. I told the voices in my head that, for as long as I hear voices, I’ll be squatting. And: wherever synthetic telepathy exists, I shall touch art via sattelite and attempt to own it. I am, reluctantly, a synth. I then told them that I would like to claim adverse possession of continental Europe, having squatted for up to 40+ years (I’m 41 this year).

I then asked them “So. Which countries do I currently possess?” To which the voices in my head responded: “Israel”.

I am therefore declaring myself World Emperor, and above the law, even though I never break it, regardless of which country hails me. The voices in my head therefore declared: “Foreign National”. I ate some popcorn and laughed.

As the rank of G-d, and above mere mortal law, I’d like to adversely possess chittel and art in addition to countries. Do not touch my art, please. Via sattelite, broadcasting and remote telepathy, I have touched it for many a year.

World Emperor:

Steve Mini from the 6ix.

To my fraternal twin in europe: hello from Toronto. If you cannot hear me, do not respond. My synthetic telepathy i.e. voices, is yours to command. I surrender my art to your leige and majesty, and no regrets. For, you have obtained a PHD, whilst I am still an undergradaute. No religion please. May my immature reign be a secular reign of ignorance and in poor taste.

How did the voices in my head feel about that? “Obstruction charge her” they said.

Further along in the conversation, after declaring other nonsense: “Are you a Christian saint?” The voices quipped. They needed to know.

Ma non, kind sir(s), I am merely a man.

(Anyway: just joking about this stuff. I’m actually safe, sane and literate. I’m medicated for hearing voices, and I’m doing well. I used to have these dialogues when I was a younger man. I only write about them because it’s theraputic. Besides; I like to create art sometimes and study literature. Figured I’d combine both on a blog).