I am sitting in my kitchen in my little apartment here in Kansas. It is pretty frigid outside. The floor feels a little dirty under my feet because my cat eats here below the table. The table which I bought about a year back from a neighbor for twenty dollars is functional with just a bit of edge to place my laptop on or rest a book on if I am reading though the rest is covered in bills and papers and books half-read and letters to the woman I can’t send them to. Adjacent to me is the living room which likewise is covered by books and letters on notebook paper. Placed around the room are three bookshelves crammed with books half or less which I have read. One shelf has 60 notebooks with many pages missing and few pages with writing on them.
I have been writing the same woman for 8 years. If I had sent the letters the postage would have approximately been $1500 dollars if I measure it right. I have written many manifold things to her because I cannot get her off my mind. I don’t know when the obsessiveness will end if it ever will at all. She is really intelligent and savvy concerning people and would probably be hostile to me if I was to send a letter to her which I am too shy to anyway. I would never hurt her. Which is why I remain silent. I see her every where and nowhere. She is almost omniscient over my life. To a degree I think it is idolatry.
Anyway, I obsess over Revelations reading it several times a month along with myriad other books on the end times. I still am just beginning to learn even after some 20 years absorbed in such things. The best of these books is probably the reliable and exhaustive John Walvoord’s The Revelation from the 60’s. On the internet Mike Hoggard is really good on youtube.
I also read self-help books about how to improve reading comprehension and writing skills and intuition and ESP (generally) and personality types and such. My favorite of these is Paul Schele’s Photoreading and Win Wenger and Richard Poe’s The Einstein Factor. Despite what they claim they quite obviously have not made me a genius but if I was normal I think they would have improved my intelligence.
So I sit here messing with my little computer and bothering my cat and writing letters and reading about ancient characters in my classics just for the fun of it. When I am not doing that I am suffering with paranoia and hallucinations and delusions and anxiety and obsessive-compulsion. There is no rest for the wicked not even when one does nothing with one’s time except suffer mentally. Of course even if I was not sick I would still suffer the fallout from having drifted away from God. Perhaps one is because of the other.