It’s. Happening. Again.

Dear Diary:

Okay, okay, I don’t keep a diary, much to the chagrin of one Tyler Kokjohn, who wishes I’d publish a diary. But if I did keep one, I would write in it this….

It’s happening again. I’m being flooded with sensible insights–truths–into life, the universe, and everything, while at work, that are so powerful and complete that I have to stop what I’m doing and jot them down lest I forget before making it home or to the next moment, whichever comes first.

Yeah, even in my diary I’d do run-ons.

The first time this happened it was at a temp job in New York. Thankfully, I had much less to do there than at my current job here, so it wasn’t annoying. Now it’s kind of annoying. Couldn’t the powers that be in my head choose, like, toilet time? Or, I’ve got nothing to do today–Mario Kart Racing, or get crackin’ on that Rupert Sheldrake book, decisions, decisions time? No-no, work. Work time. That’s fair. Assholes.

Still Urgent After All These Years.

The first time was a prelude to transcending… well… everything. I was flooded with these epiphanies, these unspoken and over-spoken points of clarity. They came as facts that appealed to the intellect. Years later, I expounded upon them and squeezed them into my book, Urgency. That they came before transcendence and not after is telling. Telling what, I don’t know, but it reminds me of the fact that the prelude to a deep hallucinogenic trip is flashing geometric patterns and symbols. Logic comes first and then is out the fucking window. Perhaps that is why we are making a beautiful world terribly uninhabitable to the best of our know-how. Let that sink in while I digress….

What comes next this time? After I’ve gotten this round of zeros and ones out of my system, am I invited back to the party I left to write about the party the first time? The first time left me with a decision to make: Go be yourself or BE. I didn’t know what BE-ing entailed so I came back to the Jer we all know and love and stalk and hate. Was it a mistake? Was it the right thing to do? Was the choice a necessary illusion? Does the illusion of choice present itself once you’re “back to normal,” i.e. back to dichotomies?

Perhaps nothing comes next. Perhaps I make a little detour back into mystical writings then quickly get to work on my highly anticipated adventure novel, Fartocalypse. (Just… go with it.)

Or perhaps a mutation occurs. No longer is there a taste of the all-encompassing stage beyond stages followed by a presentation of choice. Now it’s just poof, I am that. And you may never have any evidence that it happened except for this blog post. This blog post and the secret code I’ll have hidden in my highly anticipated comedy novel, Free Space: The Real Life Story of A Bingo Queen. (Don’t be surprised.)

The point is, Diary, this is happening again and so at the very least I’ll have a heaping, steaming, load of new perspectives that will blow the walls off our thinking box. The only question I can answer is: What to do with them?

Does anyone really care about another book? Or a trickle of blog posts? Or youtube videos?

Is there another way that is powerful and actually reaches people? Does it even matter at this point?

Dear Diary:

Are these truths unfolding in my head actually just something that happens? Though they are applicable to all because they are universal, could one small yet crucial fact have missed us completely through the ages?–Namely that, like the onslaught of geometry is prelude to a psychedelic transcendence of personal self into a carnival of Mind, an onslaught of intellectualized truths are prelude to a total transcendence of the personal self, the carnies beyond, and Mind.

Maybe they aren’t for anybody and at the same time apply to us all, which fools us into believing they need to be repeated or taught. They’re in me because they’re in all of us. They are us, voiced or not. And we’re the thing that needs to go. Be understood and thereby dissolved.

If that’s the case then these epiphanies are me shedding my skin. If you pick it up and wear it because it fits and feels right, first of all, ew. But second of all… you’ve just added another layer to yourself that needs to dissolve.

Helping people might be hurting people. Unless you see all of this with the clarity of an arrow through its bullseye.

Then we never need discuss this again.

Um…

Diary.

 

 

Michael McCarty ‘Modern Mythmakers: 35 Interviews with Horror & Science Fiction Writers and Filmmakers’ Review

Originally posted on Horror Novel Reviews:

Written by: Chad Lutzke

“Love is the answer to everything.” Not exactly something you may expect to hear coming from Ray Bradbury, but Michael McCarty manages to dig in and bring out such sides to otherwise seemingly dark individuals. As the subtitle suggests, Modern Mythmakers picks at the brains of thirty-five different contributors to the horror and science fiction genres: Writers, actors, producers, and directors. Many of whom you will undoubtedly be very familiar with, and others, not so much. Nevertheless, I found a great interest—and even encouragement—in most of the interviews within.

The interviews with those I wasn’t familiar with made the reads no less entertaining; Joe McKinney, for example—a name I was unfamiliar with—a well-read police sergeant turned author, with quite a story to tell, had me literally laughing out loud at one point in the interview when answering McCarty’s question: “If you could be a monster, what…

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There Can Be No Us

Originally posted on The Squeaky Robot:

I’ve just now arrived in Phrae, a low-key town with airy teak houses and unpretentious local food. A car backfires in the distance every ten minutes or so. Locals emerge out of their dark shops as they see me walking by; they smile and wave while encouraging their timid children to do the same.

The lady who owns this guesthouse has a scattered mind. She is bustling around the place while posing me questions: What’s my name? How old am I? Do I have a boyfriend? she asks while absorbed in her tasks. No, I say. She stops her bustling and looks at me intently with thick glasses that make her eyes look comically large and says: Freedom.


I will never claim to be on a spiritual journey; I will also never attempt to “find myself” via travel. Knowing oneself has less to do with one’s geographical coordinates and…

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