Saturday, 16 March 2019
The demon's cartoon network...
Furthering my post about the demon and I and how we argued with one another in the way that we did, I should mention more about the interesting quality that was presented. It was as though, me being a cartoonist, my journey with this thing was comedically presented to me in my mind's eye as a kind of strange animated television show, which began with a kind of whimsical comedy, but overtime took a stranger turn.
In the beginning, it was a kind of weird "Mel Brooks" kind of experience, where it was as though I heard Mel Brooks' voice telling me that I was the Jewish Messiah (hence where the Henry Chan stuff in Asylum Squad came from) - there was an air of old world cinematic imagery to it, and a playful ode to Jewish entertainment. (Once, I even had this kind of laugh track throughout an entire day, which would trigger if something odd or funny happened in my life.) The hilarity and strangeness of it was very amusing, and I was almost, in a way, seduced by it - not being one who can be seduced sexually, the demon found ways to seduce me to do frustrating things using humour.
But, and especially after smoking many cigarettes, the tobacco affecting me in some spiritual way, there were changes to the tone, and a quality of pretentiousness creeped into the feel of the experience. It had gone from lightness and fun, to a kind of tacky, retro 80s shame, the kind that I feel when I revisit a childhood cartoon that I may have enjoyed as a kid, but see as base entertainment as an adult. It then went from this strange 80s silliness quality, to something a bit more sinister, like a kind of old style racist cartoon quality, where tobacco smoking could even lead to racist cartoons of Native Americans, which made me feel very uncomfortable in many ways, witnessing it in my psyche.
Something was so strong about how pretentious these visions became, that I was repulsed by them, and felt angry and insulted to behold them. I would heckle them, like someone at a bad movie. Sometimes, it was as though my subconscious thoughts were being exploited in this style in my own mind, which was extremely embarrassing and upsetting. After the assault from the demon, and the ceremonial tobacco smoking, this awfully embarrassing quality changed into a sort of sense that I might have blown something about how the visions came through - there was a decay in presentation, as though perhaps a part of my brain had been affected. I recognize now that it was not the brain that had become ill, it was something affecting the psyche to produce this illusion. If a vision came through clearly enough at all, it was like a quirky kind of not-very-well-made thing, as though coming from a low budget animation studio, as though composed by amateurs.
Antipsychotics, as I have said before, were the answer to coping in the world with this going on. Sometimes, some beauty would come through, as though the Spirit was encouraging me to hang in there - those visions, also cartoon like, often enough, were much more beautiful and inspiring, and were kind of what I needed to feel that there was goodness involved as well. I could sense when it was the demon speaking to me this way, by picking up if there was anything pretentious there - if it was him, there was something off about how the experience presented, a vision might look beautiful, but there was an insincerity to what it was about, or some quality to the tone, that suggested nothing of it meant anything. That was my means of gauging whether something was of Divinity, or something sinister.
Now, any trace of this phenomenon seems to be fading completely. I am now considering that nothing of this was true active imagination, but something more peculiar than even that. If I reach a state when I can truly understand, I may be able to explain it better later.