The Lie of the Times
Recap: The narrator who claims to be a god in drag is under psychiatric care. He is writing a journal to his daughter, asking for forgiveness about his shortcomings.
I loved your mother dearly. I still do. Love of the true kind. The kind that doesn’t exist, or I doubt ever did.
You must have had your share of boys! I always wished to be there, to approve the person you choose. Not that my approval means shit, but I wanted to experience the process with a biological daughter.
You do know that love is a lie. Lord Byron was half drunk with his cock in a whore’s mouth when he yelled, ‘hey, you know what, I will claim that love exists!’
Everyone was startled.
‘How will you do that, Lord?‘, asked one of the timid girls.
‘I will write. I will make claims. The same way we convinced everyone that God existed.’
‘But God does exist. Sir, doesn’t he? Jesus died for our sins.’
‘Yes, God exists, and he wants you to suck my cock.’
And the room echoed with sad laughter.
You understand sad laughter?
It is when you laugh because that’s the only way you can let the pain out. Your tear glands, too, will give up someday. That’s the burden of understanding and witnessing the truth.
Bryon and the fella poets began the romanticism movement, and you and I still believe in the lie.
Talking about love, I can’t stop myself from not telling you about Muhammad and Khadija. Now that’s the love we are talking about.
Alyssa had told me that Muhammad will be a person of great importance. I had a lengthy discussion with Jibril around what all should be revealed to Muhammad and at which intervals. You see, all of this is planned in advance. Your lives are predestined.
At this juncture, you might argue, ‘what about free will, daddy?’
There’s no free will!
The only free will is the fact that you get to choose your reaction to events. If someone dies, either you can cry or be happy about them going to a higher realm. So that’s how free will happens. Free will saves you from personal hell; otherwise, you are supposed to walk the fire.
Didn’t Bukowski quote me, “What matters the most is how well you walk through the fire.”
He did. I am sure.
He was a fine fella. Damn…he stole my heart. Oh! The days of debauchery we spent together. It must have shocked Kato.
At times I don’t realize who’s who. Maybe brother Kato isn’t evil. I am. Perhaps mother Alyssa lies to both of us. She told me herself, ‘Beware of what a woman says as all she says are lies.’
Damn! That’ some dark ages shit.
When Khadija saw Muhamad for the first time, and their eyes met, the world held still for the next eight seconds. And I don’t mean metaphorically.
I mean literally. The planet stopped spinning.
Don’t mull on the how’s and why’s and what you know about planetary motion which your half-ass science teacher taught you. All of the science is based on the fact that time is linear, which has never been the case. It took me 7 years to explain this to Einstein. Still, he only comprehended poorly. Nonetheless, the world came to a halt when Muhammad laid eyes on Khadija.
How should I put it!
Umm… you must have seen those fantasy movies. The guy, the girl, and the setting freeze… then there’s only the guy and the girl moving… in a still frame.
How do you think there are a thousand movies with the same scene. You must understand that whatever has happened keeps on happening every moment, over and over again. We all are trapped in an eternal cycle of time and motion.
The world is like a book. Whichever page you open, you will only read that page, but every other page does exist, and something is going on. What has happened will happen, and what is going to happen has happened.
The book is complete. You haven’t read it yet.
Because everything is happening at once, you get flashes, visions, dreams. At times, you wander off into a different reality, and you never notice. You sleep in a world, and you wake up in the other. The reality you experience is not the reality. On that note, there is no reality. All you experience is a virtual construct created by the limiting beliefs of your mind. Ideally, you are not even you.
You are two particles bundled up together. One is a god particle, and another the observer particular. Everything else is an experience.
All we need to do is see and say, ‘Wow! That’s interesting.’ Every second of your existence is a miracle. We should all behave like 1-year-olds, filled with wonder and amazement.
But we do not.
We think we are someone, and we have control, wherein all you are is a patch of black ink inside a book. You can’t even change your place. It is all written.
Here’s an advice to all of you on a friendly note.
Never fight anything. Only observe.
The love of Khadija and Muhammad is the love we should strive for. A perfection! But we are so flawed in our approach. For us, love is ownership.
Now here’s the conundrum. I don’t mind being owned. Your mother was a very passionate woman, and she was also possessive. She couldn’t tolerate me going away for even a moment. Khadija and Muhammad’s true love never had any problems. But those were different times. Now the times have changed. The times they are changing.
Your mother and I had many problems. But it was true love.
How do I know?
Well, after being with countless women, I still had the desire to love. I still was able to be with someone else. But after your mother left me and took you with her, every female became my daughter.
I could only see you and no one else. All I ever wanted was to hold you close to me and let your tiny arms heal my soul.
I realized later on that your mother was not my salvation. You were. You were the one I was looking for—the one who will complete me.
But your mother took you away from me.
And now, when she’s finally gone, freeing me from the promise that I will never reveal who I am to you.
Now, I can yell, ‘Dear daughter, Daddy’s home.’
But I guess it is too late. You must be 26 years now.
One day, a stranger comes into your dream, claiming he’s your father and asking you to check your mail.
You check your mail, and you see an email from someone named Jupiter Maximus.
You can either choose to download or ignore it.
What will you do, daughter?
And what will happen if you choose to download it because you had a dream about it.
Will you see that it says the document has been classified as untrustworthy because the person is admitted to a psychiatry hospital. If you bounce by that, are you going to entertain a delusional man who claims to be a god in drag?
And won’t you laugh at me when I say you are the daughter of the fire goddess? Your mother was just a vessel.
What would you say to that, dear daughter?
Dear daughter, hope you will read this someday and forgive your father for being a terrible person.