Turned up yesterday

Maybe I was foolish, should have signed up for that Daimon/Duende/Jung stuff.Now even more exhausted, still something is nearby.

Forgetting, I am always forgetting
The sharp intake of breath
Your expression
I wondered if you were beautiful.
Because if not
Why was I still looking?
Puzzled I let the river take me
elsewhere with music,
lavender gold fields
smiling towns
Where you were not
Left you to haunt the river banks
jackdaw eyes,
hooded, gleaming,
left you in the bare armed wood,
to anger or
whatever it was.
And now, though there is no music
I hear it,
Though the fields are shorn
I walk them.
Having settled for myself long ago
Whether or not you are beautiful.

The Return of the Return of Orb Lord

Three, count 'em, three loads of old rubbish from Orb Lord on my phone before 7 this morning. My mood would improve a lot if I didn't sleep with my phone close by, but I worry that I may miss Mum if something serious happens. Besides, this shouldn't be difficult, I keep thinking I've binned his honkings and blocked him when I haven't, so either I'm doing it wrong or he's using different phones. I can't imagine how this last would happen, he's broke.

Annoyed with myself for not being more, more what? I can't even work out the right way for me to behave. I can't humour or pander to him, it's bloody damaging. I am being a right useless friend - no friend at all in fact - in just blocking the guy. He's very determined not to listen to any suggestion that he gets himself cleaned up, that his life is going to be better if he stops taking drugs. Besides, maybe it isn't. That world of being a chosen prophet, of flashing lights and loud music and being a prince of the corn fields, the channeller of cosmic godbrothers and human/more than human genius, beloved of the lizard people of inner earth, consort of angels and aliens, maybe that's the world he has always craved. Who am I to say he should discard that, even supposing he can? I get it's not my place to try and 'straighten out' someone I think is deluded, anymore than Don Quxote's niece had the right to burn his books. It might be a better world if it was all true anyway. This current reality's so hard, it's no wonder if someone's psyche just slips away to somewhere kinder.

So why does it annoy me?

I guess first of all it's the spam factor.He just won't stop. Then it's the endless combos of strobe effects and sounds that just jar. He's always been one for uppers, intensifiers of experience, the kind of thing that makes you jump higher and faster, electro-rave-wtf stuff. And he's really musically talented, brilliant pianist, extremely sensitive to music. When he's 'channelling' he listens (supposedly), then talks. This is all through his most developed area of response, his hearing. There's something interesting in that, though I need to remind myself that if I can't actually help, I can at least not treat him like something strange under a microscope. Bad Boot!

The last thing he sent me was this angry 'channelling' of Pythagoras talking about God's plan for us. Apparently, turns out Pythagorean maths is entirely correct about everything. With humanity, God was trying to create a race of independent warriors, and has spent, I kid you not, a fifth of his divine life on this wasted project. Realities are all lumped together like, to quote those well known Pythagorean similes, a big blob of pus or a pregnant jellyfish... And that was it, I couldn't hack the rest, just deleted it and everything else he sent, then wondered if there is something more constructive I can do, the same thought I have every time one or five of these bloody things turn up.

The answer is always the same.