I grew up on a literary diet of Jesus Christ, Crest toothpaste tubes and William S. Burroughs. Probably a little John Carter of Mars and Boy Scout manuals.
When did I know I was a chronically depressed bisexual atheist and why would I put those labels together anyway?
A turtle does not live or love because of theism. It is.
So am i.
Twelve hours from now I donate components of my life force called blood platelets on the chance that someone will need them in order to keep living.
That is my superpower, not knowing the people I’ll help by my actions tomorrow.
I’ve always wanted to believe I can see the future but what I’ve recognized is the age-old invisible hand of local sets of states of energy responding to each other combined with my propensity to predict my passive-aggressive father’s behaviour cycles fine-tuned for society writ large.
So a question I ask myself: do I really experience this clinical phenomenon known as depression or am I, as Dr. Sim C. Liddon said, merely the recursive response set of nonassertive behaviour in and of itself?
So if atheism or any theism is a madeup condition and depression is a modern interpretation of behaviour, what of bisexuality?
I have turned into an autosexual primate in my daily activities; that is, my virility is exercised and validated through masturbation, during which I create fantasies [rather run-of-the-mill] that I forget after the hours-long edging moment has passed, only to recreate them during the next session. After decades of this routine, I’m completely predictable. I might as well be a robot.
Time to transcribe a memo from the future called, “Diary of a Left Hander”…