writing

The Beauty of your Decay

The maggots will have to wait their turn. It is not time for them to feast, yet.

But I see your decay, your slow motion transformation from the illusion of vitality to the Forbidden Truth reality of flesh and bone, cell and membrane, disintegration.

It is beautiful to watch you change, the skin wrinkle, the muscles shrivel, the bones twist and knob.

You say you are only 22 and I must be in dire need of new and better glasses, as you primp and strut in front of the mirror.

But no, it is you who need better vision, crippled and doomed hag, preparing for a night of clubbing. It is you who lack the capacity to see and to know what you are, as proven by what you will be.

Stop trying to make yourself more beautiful, because every mask you don, from your Dermalogica Daily Superfoliant to your Manolo Blahnik Hangisi Jeweled Pumps, illuminates your decay.

It is so beautiful, to see and to know you as you are, to pierce your self-illusion.

Patiently, the maggots wait.

bunion love 7All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

Print Magazine Publishing 1989-1991, A Personal Retrospective

Between 1989 and 1991, I envisioned, designed, created, printed, assembled, and distributed 13 issues of a print magazine. The first six issues were titled “Singin’ Dose Anti-Psychotic Blues”, the final six issues were titled “Livin’ In A Powder Keg And Givin’ Off Sparks.” In-between, I published a special issue, “The Marc Lepine Memorial Scrapbook”, making a total of 13.

You can view nine of the 13 front covers of this unique and extremely rare reflection of the perfection that is Me, here:

https://www.abebooks.com/magazines-periodicals/SINGIN-DOSE-ANTI-PSYCHOTIC-BLUES-LIVIN/3155952872/bd#&gid=1&pid=1

Click on the small image, to enlarge it, then click on the full-screen image to enlarge it slightly more.

In this essay, I will be briefly reviewing the backstory and the exact process involved in the creation and distribution of these unique artifacts of My True Reality.

Those of you who read My texts know I am a prolific writer, and only approximately 10-15% of what I write, is ever posted or published in any public forum. My 3000 page handwritten autobiography, which will most likely never be viewed by the general public, details everything involved in My magazine publishing career, with at least 150 full, handwritten pages devoted to this issue alone.

This essay focuses only on a few, very specific details that I choose to share with you humans. Questions are not welcomed, and probably will not be answered, except as directly relates to the specific details I discuss. I choose to write and publish this essay, at this time, to honor and to strengthen My Living Legacy, and also to recreate within My own mind, the glory and perfection of My mind as it was 26-28 years ago.

This essay is written from memory, it does not involve any consultation with My autobiographical texts, or any previous, older, private writings on this topic.

The 1980’s were a time of tremendous mind expansion for Me, as I transitioned from tortured child rejecting and transcending his humanity, and solidifying many Forbidden Truths to core consciousness, to mature adult having successfully achieved the feat of human transcendence and reaching the very core depths of Forbidden Truth realization and embrace.

It was a time of feeding, compulsive and triumphant expansion of the Seer mind, via exposure to and integration with new and existing reality perceptions. This feeding involved exposure to a constant stream of new images, new words, new ideas, both tactile and cerebral.

My collection of deadly weapons exploded in volume and variety. My collection of audio tapes, videotapes, books, magazines, newspaper articles on every topic of mind trauma and sexual arousal focus, likewise exploded.

I filled every day, and devoted all of My precious time, to seeking out and enveloping My conscious mind within, an endless variety of new and different, constantly changing, uniquely stimulating artifacts that accurately reflected the infinite darkness overflowing within Me.

Death, torment, pain, suffering, rage, hate, terror, sadism, masochism, murder, torture, bondage, violence, females with corns and bunions and agonized feet and missing toes and amputated and deformed feet, satan, revenge, dismemberment, these are just a few of the topics that consumed (and of course still do) all levels of personal consciousness.

Every day I purchased 3-5 daily newspapers, consuming them cover to cover. Every day I haunted the library, trying to find what I needed, but thwarted by the universal censorship of The Matrix. Every day I looked for and purchased gun magazines and fashion magazines, hunting for new and deeper layers of rare and suppressed Truth.

And slowly, over time, thanks to tiny classified ads buried in materials only available via mail order, the dark layers of the underworld began to reveal themselves: Sadomasochistic magazines, foot fetish pornography, hard-core bondage, underground weaponry, and much more. I celebrated and immersed, digging deeper, soliciting and acquiring customized material to fit My glove-mind.

In 1984, amidst this dynamic Self-universe expansion, I discovered, through the mail, a tiny and obscure publication called “Factsheet Five”. It was conjured up by a man named Mike Gunderloy. It was an unpopular, underground magazine specifically devoted to reviewing and providing contact/purchase information, for other, even MORE unpopular and underground, magazines. Basically it consisted of thousands of very brief, single paragraph free reviews and listings, of completely unknown magazines, created via many different processes, that had a print run from 1 to 1000 copies.

I was immediately drawn in to this remarkable new resource, purchasing and subscribing to dozens of deeply underground publications from the very first issue of Factsheet Five, and faithfully scanning all new issues for any and all new publications.

These underground publications were and are called “zines”:

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=zine

The correct pronunciation is apparently “zeen”, exactly shortened from “magazine”, but from the very beginning I have always rejected this pronunciation, in favor of “Ziiine”, with a long, drawn-out iii sound. “I was a ziiiine publisher…”, sounds so much better than “zeen”.

So, beginning late 1984 I became a prolific connoisseur of underground zines, thanks to Factsheet Five. I sought out the most radical and bizarre content, from the goriest horror fiction, to the most graphic bondage and torture drawings and photos, to the most hard-core anarchist material, to satanism, torture, true-crime, and more.

For about four years I grew My mind universe collection, expanding My True Reality by leaps and bounds. It was not until 1988 that I began to think of publishing my own zine. My interest was never and is never, to “communicate”. My interest from the very beginning was to express and reveal Truth, to commune with Myself, as I have always done, since early childhood. Creating a zine was simply part of the personal mind landscape that was and is inherently present in the creation of My Self-universe.

The title “Singin’ Dose Anti-Psychotic Blues”, came to Me while listening to enraged heavy metal music about rage, revenge, and murder, and recalling My months of psychiatric cage lock years earlier, for stabbing my father. One day I had overheard a female nurse telling one of the head shrinks, “Anti-psychotic medication should help….” Not in relation to Me, but a different prisoner. Her voice stayed within Me all those years, and I still think it is a great magazine title!

By the middle of 1988 I had decided to become an underground zine publisher, and spent several months deciding upon the logistical details. I already owned a Smith-Corona typewriter, but I purchased a special and unusual “printwheel” for it, that allowed Me to type slightly larger and bolder-looking text than the normal printwheel that came included with the typewriter. You can see this different sized and shaped text throughout all of My writings as published within all 13 issues.

I also purchased an extremely heavy-duty and large stapler that used thick and long staples and promised to allow for up to 100 sheets of paper to be stapled together. It was the “Bostitch Model B300HDS”, and I’m pleased to still own both the typewriter and this stapler, always bringing back good memories of the past.

From the beginning, I decided this magazine would not focus upon My own writing. It would contain very limited original writing from Me, and so it was.

Every issue contained a brief introduction and message of Truth from Me, on the inside front cover, but very little else insofar as original writing. Two exceptions I made to this rule, were the “How To Be a Successful Serial Killer” article I wrote, and the even more infamous “Handy Hints For Messier Massacres: A Guide To Maximizing The Mass Murder Kill Count”, article. You can read that article in full, here:

http://www.textfiles.com/anarchy/MISCHIEF/massacre.txt

But let us be clear, I never tried to showcase My writing in any of these zines. They were artistic creations of My Self-universe, 98+% of the content was not originally created by Me, but, as you can see from the front covers link I provide above, consisted of beautifully and brilliantly collaged pages intended to startle, to provoke, to create an atmosphere of triumphant dread and menace.

So, how did it all get created? Read on…

For many years previously, beginning in My teens, I had been collecting and hoarding newspaper articles, magazine photos, copies of book passages, snippets of text that had grabbed My attention and focus. In 1988 I purchased 100 file folders, and began to organize and divide My immense collection. I labelled each folder, “serial killers”, “mass murder”, “satan”, “deformed female feet”, “amputated legs”, “bunions”, “gore fiction”, “guns”, “dead human bodies”, etc… 100 different subject titles, then I sorted out all existing content, every piece going into the most appropriate folder, as judged by Me.

Then, for the next several years, all new content curated, was immediately placed within the proper folder. After I started creating My zines, in 1989, I purchased 100 more file folders, gave them all the exact same names as the existing 100. Then, whenever I actually used an item within My zine, it was placed in the “new” file folder, to avoid using it again by accident.

Another major decision was how to attach the materials/content to the 8 1/2 + 11 inch heavy card stock paper I had decided to use as the foundation base for all pages. I considered many different glue options, but eventually decided to use good old Scotch brand “invisible” scotch tape. Unfortunately, it was not always completely invisible, depending upon the type of paper being taped to the heavy card stock base, tape marks were sometimes clearly visible on the finished product, as anyone who owns one of My zines can see. I used dozens of rolls of this tape, to construct every issue.

The creative process was always stream of consciousness and intuitive. Every page, really meaning every side of every page, since all pages were double-sided, has a general “theme”, be it graphic violence or religion or deformed feet, but material from different file folders was used on almost every page. Very rarely, was all material for a page taken from the same file folder.

Every issue was between 25 and 45 standard size, 8 1/2′ + 11′ inch pages long, which means 50 to 90 pages of content, since all pages were double sided. They were created via black and white xerox copying, although later issues featured a full color laser copy “centerfold”.

If you research color laser copying, you will find that this technology was brand new in the late 1980’s, and very expensive. I remember My first laser copies cost $1.50 for each page. A few months later they went down to .99 cents each, but that was still a killer, financially.

It still makes me chuckle when I remember the process of trying to get My base originals professionally copied. Yes, there were “self-service” copy machines around, but they were rare and their quality was not optimal. I wanted these copies made by a professional printing company, using a top-quality, high volume, xerox copy machine.

The first place I went, the lady just looked at my original, looked at Me, and said, “We don’t work with this kind of stuff”. Eventually I found a print/copy store located in a more “artistic” neighborhood, and they were willing to copy even the most gruesome pages. The first time I went there, I threw 10 $20 bills on the counter as soon as I walked in, then the clerk came over, I could see him looking at the money, then I took out My originals and said something like, “I need a lot of copies made, maybe a thousand or so, you think you can help me…?” He said Yes.

I remember they always asked me if I wanted to come back later, to pick them up, because it took at least 20 minutes, sometimes an hour or more, but I always told them I would wait, and I did. For the front and back covers, I paid extra for heavy card stock paper, and for the inside pages, especially later issues, I paid extra for 24 lb, “bright white” paper.

I “charged” $1.50 to $2.00 per issue, but many were given away free, in exchange for other zines, and for women’s high heeled shoes, among many other things. To produce each zine cost Me, easily, $3.00+, NOT including postage, so I lost hundreds of dollars on every issue. But of course there was no financial motivation behind any aspect of what I was doing.

Each issue had a print run between 150 and 400 copies. Issue #1 had a 150 copy run, so only 150 copies were ever created/distributed. The last issues had a 400 copy run. I also designed and printed stickers and cloth patches. The cloth patch was of very high quality. I used it for My Ideapod avatar.

So, I would carry home large cardboard boxes filled with thousands of xerox copies, day after day, and then, finally, came one of My favorite parts of the process, the actual assembly/creation of the magazine.

The pages were not numbered, so it was only after all the copies were made, that I began the deliberative process of deciding upon the page order. Only the front and back covers were, of course, determined in advance. Once this decision was made, I would begin the “pilings”. 25-45 different piles, of 150-400 copies, spread out on the floor, arranged via My chosen page order. Then I would go from pile to pile, take one page from each pile, back to front. Once I had the 25-45 pages in hand, I would go to My desk, very carefully shuffle the pages to try to get them perfectly lined up as a bound book would be, then I would very carefully staple the pages together. Of course there was never an absolutely perfect end result, but I took great pride in attempting to achieve perfection, and every tiny misalignment only serves to honor Me and My unique effort.

Then, repeat, 150-400 times. 🙂

This assembly process alone took 30+ hours of work, for the later, 400 copy runs.

I would estimate, from start to finish, I spent 400-500 hours working on each issue. Remember, every single page took 6+ hours, sometimes 10 hours, of deliberation and assembly. As these issues were published 2 months apart, you can see how much of My time during the 1989-1991 time period, was devoted to this endeavor.

This is how all human existence should always be. Obsessions of mind, Self-chosen, Self-directed, devoted to a task that gratifies and feeds and nourishes and expands and glorifies the Self-universe. A unique path, uniquely chosen, uniquely realized, everything done for Self-benefit.

I will always look back with limitless and unconditional love and pride, and profound admiration for everything I have chosen to do and to manifest, as a Self-universe. And this endeavor, approximately 2 1/2 years of fervent devotion to the external projection of My internal universe, holds a beloved and unmatched place within the core consciousness that is Me.

zine 3 zine 4 zine 6.png

full force patch 5All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

It Always Goes Back To The Beginning

“Philosophy cannot soothe my soul, but in the mirror the Truth will be known…”

No matter how many brilliant ideas I eloquently express, and no matter how many uniquely profound Truths I reveal to the universe in intricate detail, and bathe Myself within, I remain a savage brute. I remain a reflection of destruction. Because I was destroyed, and the mirror never lies.

In the beginning there was a helpless child who knew nothing. Then he knew fear and pain and abuse and trauma and victimization and terror and deception and cruelty. And so he learned to hate and to harm, to dissect and to stalk and to feed on the fear of others. And still later he learned to love himself and to make himself untouchable and to understand why every other child is destroyed as he was destroyed, and to express the Truth, and to become a philosopher, and to reject his humanity, and to transcend his humanity.

But the mirror always and still reflects, and always he goes back to the beginning.

Once a victim, always a victim. Memories, blood-coated memories, of the way we were.

And so the tortured child comes home, day after day, decades later. He comes home to his isolated little fortress, shedding the horrific burden of forced human interaction, slave labor extracted under threat of hunger and homelessness. His hate lives and breathes and rejoices in being part of him, nurturing him.

And so comes decision time. What to do for the next two or three hours, until it is time to sleep, to dream, to destroy. What to do? Write another uniquely brilliant essay of Mind Bomb Truth for 10 humans to savor, as the other 7.5 billion remain oblivious? Or just immerse all of My consciousness within the glory of sadistic rage and hate?

Well, today I choose the latter, but at least I bring you folks along for the ride.

Enjoy the song, allow it to make love to your shattered mirror, as I do.

Thousands of times I listen to this song, because within it, I am all I will ever be.

All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

Expanding The Forbidden Truth Dictionary: MindGasm

MindGasm /mīnd ˌɡazəm/:

a) An unexpected and extremely pleasurable awakening of mind consciousness to a previously unrealized and unfathomed philosophical or ideological perception of reality or Truth, especially as occurring in immediate and direct relation to initial exposure of mind to the perception.

b) Intense excitement and psychologically erotic pleasure of mind, experienced in direct relation to personal exposure to an idea, ideology, philosophy, or reality perception not previously entertained or considered by an individual’s existing mindscape.

c) The personal creation of intense psychological excitement for the Self, by the Self-mind, equivalent to a sexual orgasm, and rooted within newly achieved Forbidden Truth realization and conscious embrace.

Used in a sentence: “Reading the brilliant texts of The Seer of Forbidden Truth has provided me with many intense MindGasms.”

Important vocabulary note: Do not confuse MindGasm with MindChasm, completely different and accurately defined here:

https://forbiddentruthblog.com/2017/07/26/expanding-the-forbidden-truth-dictionary-mindchasm/

mindgasm 78.pngAll Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

I Am The Watcher, Always Watching, Myself.

You humans do things for the experience of it. Sometimes you take pictures or make video recordings, but the watching is always secondary to the experience. And you always watch yourself later, in hindsight, as a memory. What an inferior path!

I am the Watcher, always Watching. Even in the exact moment as I am doing something, I am simultaneously watching Myself, do it. I watch Myself, separate from Myself, separate from what I am doing.

I watch Myself for the pleasure of seeing someone perfect, doing something perfect, in real-time. I watch Myself, not as Myself. The Alien Eye winks. Eye C U.

Watching Myself doubles the pleasure. The commission of the act, and the external, detached observation of the act as it occurs: Mirror reflecting. Microscope enlarging, Telescope pulling it all in. The ultimate stranglehold.

I do not watch to see. I watch to know and to immortalize Myself. I watch as creator of the Self-universe, tending his flock of brain cells.

I watch the world die.

watching 9.jpgAll Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

The Superior Mind Uncloaks the Big Picture, to Himself and the Universe

I write a lot, and I publicly post a lot, even though it is but a small fraction of what I write. But I am not a writer. I am a warrior for Self and for Truth. I am a sentient and perfectly Self-created universe continuously generating thoughts that enhance and maintain and glorify the most beautiful and perfect interconnected web of consciousness that has every come to exist in the cosmic history of the infinite external universe.

Nothing I think or write is about Isabel Martinez or Charlie Gard or religion or parenthood. It is bigger. All, always, about Me. It is all, always, about how I can grow the perfection that is Me. To see, to know, to understand, to commune, with the perfection of a Self-mind, constantly seeking more perfection.

Every understanding within the Self-universe can always be made better, grown and expanded, perfected.

And so I spend My time viciously dissecting humanity with an Alien Eye of external hatred and contempt, and internal love and faithful devotion, to and for Myself, only Myself.

mind power 80.jpgAll Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

Arthur Schopenhauer: Vibrant 19th Century Seeker Of and Voice For Truth

Some of you will know that I consider and identify Myself as being the single greatest and most brilliant philosopher known to exist in the 21st century. Yes, I know I am egotistical and narcissistic, but I am also sane and rational. I see Myself as I am. Nobody on this plane is articulating Truth with the depth, the sophistication, the beauty and the all-encompassing wisdom, as I am. Nobody else. Show Me another voice and mind, and I will compare them to Me, with fairness and a genuine desire to know that a philosopher equal or greater in MindPower to Me, exists.

I see no such voice, no such mind, anywhere in the public realm. In some ways this pleases Me, to know I have maximizing My brilliance to a level nobody else can match or exceed. In other ways this discourages Me, because it reinforces the Forbidden Truth of just how hopelessly doomed I am, when there is no other human who can match up to Me, and the human universe is certain to be forever ruled by inferiors.

As the most brilliant of all existing minds, I seek lesser minds that can still inspire and challenge and help Me to uplift My own, to continue to shatter and exceed the levels of brilliance I have already achieved.

One such mind, that manages to achieve this feat, is that of 19th century victim and Martyr Arthur Schopenhauer. Eternally unborn more than 150 years ago, the voice and the mind of Arthur still resonates with the timeless, untouchable, and eternal beauty of genuine, valid, and uniquely insightful Truth.

Arthur was dead wrong in many of his reality perceptions, and yet he was so perfectly right in many other reality perceptions. This is why he is not a top-level Seer of Forbidden Truth, yet his voice and his mind resonate with the creative force of a mind alive, in earnest pursuit of Truth, and determined to develop the capacity to express and reveal such Truth, with courage and in defiance of any existing social and cultural doctrines and decrees.

Thank you Arthur, for possessing a mind capable of modestly inspiring and impressing My own. Thank you Arthur, for helping, in small ways, to deepen and engorge the perfection of My own mind and voice. Thank you for developing the articulation skills required to paint this desolate world void of the vibrant colors of Truth, with a few very real strokes of vibrant and True color.

Your collective articulations of Truth have been integrated to My Self-universe, and I am stronger and more brilliant, because of them.

A few of Arthur’s Mind Bombs:

Ego and Self-love: “What a person is for himself, what abides with him in his loneliness and isolation, and what no one can give or take away from him, this is obviously more essential for him than everything that he possesses or what he may be in the eyes of others…

Man can indeed do what he wants, but he cannot will what he wants.

Talent hits a target no one else can hit; Genius hits a target no one else can see.

A man can be himself only so long as he is alone, and if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom, for it is only when he is alone that he is really free.

Great men are like eagles, and build their nest on some lofty solitude.

Very famous, but flawed insight:

All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.” #1 and #2 are right on-target. But #3, no, completely inaccurate. Here you see the struggle of a mind seeking enlightenment, but failing. Forbidden Truth is not realized. We must learn from the mistakes of other, aspiring, Superiors.

After your death you will be what you were before your birth.” The very beginning of an articulation of the Forbidden Truth of what it is to become retroactively unborn. But not fleshed out, not properly explained, not presented within the light of infinite horror such Truth deserves. Truth, properly deepened by Me.

The discovery of truth is prevented more effectively, not by the false appearance things present and which mislead into error, not directly by weakness of the reasoning powers, but by preconceived opinion, by prejudice.

The social organization of brainwashing and indoctrination to conceal Truth: “Religion is the masterpiece of the art of animal training, for it trains people as to how they shall think.

To live alone is the fate of all great souls.

It is only a man’s own fundamental thoughts that have truth and life in them. For it is these that he really and completely understands. To read the thoughts of others is like taking the remains of someone else’s meal, like putting on the discarded clothes of a stranger.” Arthur, I take only your most Superior thoughts, and I do not wear them, I merely allow them to commune with the perfection of My own mind.

Freedom, immortality: “The man never feels the want of what it never occurs to him to ask for.

Patriotism, when it wants to make itself felt in the domain of learning, is a dirty fellow who should be thrown out of doors.

The role of the media in maintaining the status quo: “Journalists are like dogs, whenever anything moves they begin to bark.

The organic nobility and benevolence of all Truth: “To free a person from error is to give, and not to take away.

The infinite horror of religion as it is imposed upon the most vulnerable child minds: “There is no absurdity so palpable but that it may be firmly planted in the human head if you only begin to inculcate it before the age of five, by constantly repeating it with an air of great solemnity.

The assumption that animals are without rights and the illusion that our treatment of them has no moral significance is a positively outrageous example of Western crudity and barbarity.

Why The Seer of Forbidden Truth has 50 loyal followers: “The person who writes for fools is always sure of a large audience.

Inferiors, beautifully exposed: “Every miserable fool who has nothing at all of which he can be proud, adopts as a last resource pride in the nation to which he belongs; he is ready and happy to defend all its faults and follies tooth and nail, thus reimbursing himself for his own inferiority.

Truth perception utilizing the Alien Eye, beautifully expressed: “So the problem is not so much to see what nobody has yet seen, as to think what nobody has yet thought concerning that which everybody sees.

The sacredness of Truth within all philosophical deliberations of the Self-mind: “Philosophy … is a science, and as such has no articles of faith; accordingly, in it nothing can be assumed as existing except what is either positively given empirically, or demonstrated through indubitable conclusions.

Why hope must be eradicated from consciousness, within all Truth quests: “Hope is the confusion of the desire for a thing with its probability.

A brilliant insight of Truth to how society & government promotes reading, knowing it is utilized by humans as a placebo, to neuter and limit independent thinking:

When we read, another person thinks for us: we merely repeat his mental process. In learning to write, the pupil goes over with his pen what the teacher has outlined in pencil: so in reading; the greater part of the work of thought is already done for us. This is why it relieves us to take up a book after being occupied with our own thoughts. And in reading, the mind is, in fact, only the playground of another’s thoughts. So it comes about that if anyone spends almost the whole day in reading, and by way of relaxation devotes the intervals to some thoughtless pastime, he gradually loses the capacity for thinking; just as the man who always rides, at last forgets how to walk. This is the case with many learned persons: they have read themselves stupid.

Let us all honor and thank Arthur, for growing the universe of Truth!

arthur8

All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

Do My Writings Make the World a Better Place?

Several months ago I received an email that said, simply and solely: “Your writings make the world a better place.” It was sent from an iPhone, there was no other content, only this single sentence, and the email did not come from My handful of personally known devoted fans. I replied with a very brief form letter: “Thank you for appreciating Forbidden Truth”. I do this often, when I cannot determine the sincerity of a correspondent, but the email is respectful enough, and meets all of My quality control standards, to not deserve complete silence and immediate deletion.

I suspected then, and still do, that the email was not sincere. The human was trying to anger and upset Me, assuming, and it is a correct assumption, that I do not want to make the world a better place, as humans would define “better”, and might therefore find their assumption upsetting.

The Truth of course, is that nothing any human could say to Me, can impact My untouchable mind negatively.

Instead, this single sentence email comment sparked brilliant and profound Self-reflection, and I’ve decided to post My comprehensive Forbidden Truth ideological and definitional dissection of the stated opinion, right here, as a lengthy essay. Do My writings make the world a better place? The Truthful answer is really quite complex and requires a great deal of uniquely insightful analysis.

To begin, how must we define the “world”? Is it planet earth we speak of, or is it the entire cosmic universe? Traditionally, the term is used to isolate planet earth from the “universe”, and I suspect the e-mailer was referring to planet earth. But as you know, I am the farthest you can ever come from a traditionalist, and I accept no externally imposed definitions.

If we choose to limit the term to reference planet earth, both arguments can be made, that My writings do, and do not, make the “world” a better place. I advocate for the extinction of humanity, based upon the Forbidden Truth that humanity has proven it does not deserve to exist as a species. It is not “better” for any individual human to die, from their individual, Truth-based perspective, and species-wide extinction requires all humans to die.

Additionally, the circumstances that prompt human extinction to occur might also cause extreme and extensive harm to many, most, or even all other existing species of life on the planet. But this is only speculative. For example, it is interesting to note that nuclear radiation appears to impact many animals far less severely than it does humans:

https://curiousmatic.com/radiation-affects-animals-nuclear-disaster/

On a long-term basis, human extinction may very well help other species of life to thrive on planet earth.

Therefore, if My writings help push humanity towards species extinction, and such extinction occurs, the “living world” on the planet may, in the long-term, be much better off.

On the flip-side, if you define the “world” as constituting the cosmic universe, My writings are even more likely to make the world a better place. Humanity is a scourge upon the universe, and any sane, logical, and analytical thinker knows that sentient life almost certainly exists elsewhere. The devolving, genetically malformed, diseased and unviable human species poses an existential threat to extraterrestrial life, and its extinction would make the universe itself, inherently better and safer for all extraterrestrial creatures.

Yes, nuclear radiation or other impacts might affect “outer space”, but the distance between earth and other habitable planets should render any such impacts very minor and negligible. In other words, the positives should far outweigh any negative impacts.

So, from this external analysis, the question at hand cannot be answered with 100% certainty. Depending upon the exact circumstances, the definitional perspective applied, and the species of life that are referenced, My writings could end up impacting the world negatively or positively.

So now, lets make the analysis more internal and narrowed to planet earth, to humanity and to individual human beings. It is very fair to say that a tiny number of humans who choose to expose themselves to My writings, can and do experience positive improvement to their True Reality mind universe. These are aspiring Superiors who both seek Truth, and are able to recognize and embrace Truth, to some degree. Truth itself can make the Self-universe stronger and healthier, therefore My writings can make individual Self-universes better.

But, does this translate to making the human “world” as a whole, better?? No, it does not. The vast majority of humans cannot successfully integrate My writings to their Self-universe, on a positive level. They cannot, they do not, and they will not. Their inferior minds perceive all primary Truths as constituting a negative attack upon them. They are traumatized by Truth, and respond negatively and with hostility.

Most simply retreat and flee, instead of actively lashing back at Me, because their terror, on a subconscious level, is too severe for them to directly engage Me. But either way, their response must be considered actively hostile, and their exposure to My writings does not render their Self-universe “better”, on any definitionally valid level.

So, some Self-universes are made “better” by My writings, but the vast majority are not. It is the cumulative total of all Self-universes, that shape and determine the state of the human world as a whole.

Therefore, by traditional human judgement, My writings do not serve humanity, they do not make the human world a better place, even as they do impact the isolated and rare Self-universe of a tiny minority of aspiring Superiors, in a positive way.

The Forbidden Truth is, My writings, uniquely brilliant as they are, have little chance of directly impacting the overall fate of the human world. The species has already laid in a collision course, the Self-destruct sequence has already been initiated, and cannot be halted or reversed. The species has already doomed itself. My literary brilliance exposes this Forbidden Truth, much more than it can/does/will directly impact it.

In conclusion, My writings can be accurately said to make the world a better place, and/or to make the world a worse place, depending upon the definitional and ideological criteria that is applied, and depending upon the mind-universe perceptions of individual readers, and depending upon the specific species of life being impacted:

1: Extraterrestrial.
2: Non-human, earth-dwelling animal.
3: Human being.

And to conclude even further: I have absolutely no aspirational goal to make the world of the human being better, in any way, on any level. All of My writings are inspired by love, honor, and respect for the glory and the sanctity of Myself and the Truth. If your internal Self-universe is made better, then good for you, and I honor your attempt to try to properly honor Yourself, and the Truth.

In My reply to this singular comment, aspiring Superiors should gain an understanding of how complex philosophical and ideological Self-analysis can and should be inspired and undertaken.

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All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

Burying The Brilliance

I am a thinker who writes, not a writer who thinks. I seek no audience beyond Myself. I write neither for money nor for fame. Within My created universe, an audience of infinite size and scope worships every word, every idea, every expression of Self I reflect upon it. This is My target audience, offering Me unconditional love and admiration and support. I am My universe, My universe is Me!

And so I enjoy burying My most brilliant texts. Some I never post in any public forum. I hoard them, reveling in their private possession as unique excretions of a brilliant and untouchable mind. Others I do post, but take subtle steps to try to limit the number of human eyeballs which gain the gift of their presence.

For example, it is easter friday evening, you call it “good friday”, a perverse christian holiday, for you pathetic citizen-slaves of the west. And so I chose to write and post one of My most brilliant and important of essays, on this evening. Why??

Because I know that for the non-christians, friday night is their preferred time to intoxicate their pathetic and broken brains upon artificial substances and romantic love and other toxic excreta, instead of reading blog and social media posts/essays. And for the christians, “good friday” evening is a time to worship their own deaths via commemoration of the suicide of their stalking victim, the mentally deranged jesus christ. So again, reading blog and social media posts is not a high priority.

That is why I specifically chose this evening to unleash My last essay, because I recognize it to be more primarily valuable than most of My other posts, and I wish to limit the number of human eyeballs who access it.

You can say My effort in this regard is petty and childish, and generally ineffective, as I cannot really control how many humans access My posts, after I make them public. But it pleases Me, to give you humans the most valuable of Truth, in this manner.

know how the pathetic brains of you humans work. You pathologically seek distraction, and so you reduce infinitely valuable Truth, to nothing more than useless distraction. You access WordPress and Ideapod on mobile devices, or work computers, primarily during your slave labor hours. That is when you read the majority of My posts. And so, if you examine My posting history, you will find many of My most brilliant Mind Bomb essays are being posted on holidays, or between 1 and 6 AM.

I go out of My way to reduce My number of readers. It is a small victory, with no real meaning. But it still pleases Me, because it is an insult to Me and to Truth, the way most of you use My uniquely brilliant and infinitely important writings as nothing more than distractions from reality, a way to waste your time, as you continue to waste and sacrifice your very lives in cowardice and stupidity, rejecting and denying the Forbidden Truths.

child labor 71All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.

More G-rated Female Foot Pain Pornography, Amputee Twist

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Crippled Beauty Abandoned At The Beach

Part one:

(Internal monologue:) I can’t believe he just left me here and drove off! He spend 2 years winning my trust, just to get me to go out with him in public dressed like this, and then he just laughs in my face and leaves, knowing how helpless I am?! Goddamn bastard!

Never trust anybody, Katie, never, unless you are paying them money to help you. I’ve always lived my life embracing this truth, until he came along… How could I have been so stupid!!?

Okay Katie, calm down and think…It’s at least four more miles to the apartment, I’ve managed to hobble, what…maybe half a mile so far. I can’t do four more miles, I just can’t…My foot stumps have already blistered badly, I can feel the blisters are almost about to break open. The worst thing is I can’t even try to adjust these damn boots, the bastard double-knotted them, knowing I can’t untie these laces with my arm stumps!

I just need help to get back to my apartment, I can call Janine from there, to come over and take off these torture boots and clean out my blisters, but who do I ask for help?? Everyone here is a stranger. These people won’t even look me in the eye, all they see is a deformed cripple…god, I’m gonna burst into tears any minute, the pain from these blisters and the embarrassment of this situation is just overwhelming me…

Part two:

Frank casually strolled onto the boardwalk. He hated being out among the humans, but his Female Foot Pain fetish needed some new stimulation. The beach was less inviting than the busy concrete jungle of downtown, filled with elegantly dressed women trapped in torturous dress shoes, but variety was the spice of life, and besides, traffic was too bad to justify the long drive.

While not nearly as treasure-filled for foot pain views, the beach still offered enticing possibilities, sore footed gals gingerly hobbling on the hot sand, exposing their inflamed bunions and prominent corns… Glancing around carefully, Frank could see, just within his outer field of vision, an extremely short, beautiful young woman standing by one of the boardwalk art pieces. People sometimes used these art pieces as makeshift seating.

Frank turned and slowly started walking towards this mysterious, unexpected sighting. He could not help gasping aloud as his mysterious target came into full view. She was not extremely short, but a double BTK, Below-The-Knee amputee! And could it be, she also had no arms! Only cute flaps of skin ending just before the elbow should have begun!!

Frank pinched himself, hard, trying to force himself to awaken. He was such an expert at Conscious Dreaming, he just had to make sure this was not an unrealized Conscious Dream. Ouch, that pinch hurt, and the command to awaken did not work. This was reality, an unbelievable stroke of fortune!

Frank slowed his gait down even more. There was no way this beautiful quadruple amputee could be here at the beach alone. No way. Parents, girlfriends, boyfriend, there had to be other humans with her.

Frank scanned the area, but everyone in sight was busy deliberately ignoring the singular target of all his attention. Frank knew the drill, this beautiful girl was their Elephant Man, a monster, a freak of nature to be shunned, covert glances and stares, but no contact, no acknowledgement of her uniquely shaped universe, it was too alien and terrifying for the humans.

Frank knew exactly and completely what it was like to be frankenstein’s monster. His freak and monster status was not quite so visible on the outside, but on the inside it far surpassed Katie, and as he slowly drew closer, continuing to scan for her vampiric familiars, he was drawn in, like a moth to a flame.

Part three:

Katie felt her despair beginning to overwhelm her. She had to do something, she couldn’t just keep leaning against this damn green piece of ugly art, trying to keep as much weight as possible off her left foot stump. The blisters were really bad on this stump, and the hard leather of her custom-made boots unmercifully pressed on them, and on the rock-hard corns that had formed years ago in response to the unnatural pressure Katie placed on her stumps with every step she took.

It was hot, and she was so thirsty, but most of all she was tortured by her helplessness, and her invisibility. Most of the time Katie liked being ignored by the humans, but as the throngs passed by, staring but refusing to make contact, Katie’s despair grew ever more desperate. Bicyclers and skateboarders whizzed by, taunting her with their mobility. Only four miles to the apartment, but it felt as far away as the moon to Katie, and the terrain just as impossible to navigate.

She saw him approaching slowly and cautiously, and waited for him to begin his turn, just like all the others, passing her by with at least six feet of space, as though she had a contagious disease. But no, he slowed down even more, and came directly to Katie, side-by-side, but stopping at a slightly-too-far for comfortable conversation distance. Katie peered up at Frank, he was tall and strong, but his bearing was not normal, she could immediately see he was different. And difference is scary, Katie knew this more than most anyone else, and so could not help but be frightened.

Beautiful day to be at the beach..“, said Frank, and smiled at Katie in his less-than-human way. “Yes, it is…” answered Katie, but her voice was void of happiness, a deep and raspy croak. Something was wrong, Frank immediately knew. He drew closer, looking Katie in the face, trying to see her eyes, but she wore dark sunglasses, and he could only identify sadness and some fear.

“I just want to say, thank you for showing the world what beauty really is. Thank you for being out here, today. I see your perfection. Do you see it?”

Katie heard the words but could not process them. So unexpected, even from the longest of familiars. But from a complete stranger, impossible to process, to believe. He was mocking her. One human finally stopped, and it was just to mock her! “Fuck off, you crazy freak! Just leave me alone!!”, she yelled at the top of her lungs.

Frank froze, his face changing, as he realized his mistake. Humans hated the Truth, how could he have forgotten this. Silent stalking was the only way. He pursed his lips and shook his fingers as his arms dangled at his sides. Shrugging and ruefully smiling, he turned to walk away.

And in the three seconds before Frank turned, after her scream of rage and frustration, Katie realized something terrible: She had hurt him. She could see it in his face, in his lips, in his fluttering fingers, in his body as he turned to leave her alone forever. She had hurt him, the one who stopped, the one who looked, the one who spoke, the one who said what she could not believe.

He was already walking away, taking his third long stride away from her, before Katie could find her voice, “Stop! I’m so sorry…” And Frank stopped, but he did not turn, and did not come back to Katie. “Come back…?” Still Frank stood unturned, and so Katie propelled herself forward, hobbling towards him on her agonized stumps until she faced him, and could look up, directly into his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was just…so confused…”

And Frank knew Katie was expressing her True Reality, as best she could. “It’s okay, I know you were confused. But I just wanted to say, thank you for showing the world what beauty really is. Thank you for being out here, today. I see your perfection. Do you see it?” It was the exact same words, exactly repeated. Katie heard them again, and somehow knew they were exactly the same. “That’s….exactly what you said before, isn’t it??” 

“Yes, the Truth deserves to be repeated, exactly as it is, over and over.” Katie reached with her arm stump to clumsily remove her dark sunglasses, and peered intensely into Frank’s eyes: “That is not the truth, I don’t believe it…” And Frank returned the intense glare: “I’m sorry you do not know the Truth. If you knew it, you would not have to try to believe it.

They were standing in the middle of the boardwalk now, people passing by in all directions, and Katie suddenly felt all the agonies of the day overwhelm her. She turned to try to make her way back to her green egg art sanctuary, only to come down heavily and awkwardly on her poor left foot stump. Blood engorged blisters howled in protest, and Katie gasped, dropping her sunglasses, and nearly falling to the ground.

Frank reached his arm out to her arm stump and gently steadied her, as Katie grimaced in agony, keeping her left foot stump raised. “You need to sit down“, Frank said, as he gestured back towards the green egg art. “Maybe on top, I’m not sure if it’ll be comfortable to sit on…” Katie limping badly, they made their way back to the green egg, and Frank lifted Katie up onto the egg.

Are you here alone?“, Frank asked. Katie could feel tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry, could you please get me my sunglasses, I dropped them over there”… Frank did, placing them directly on Katie’s face. “My…boyfriend bought me here, he told me it would be great to spend the whole day together with me, but he just did it because he wanted to break up with me and make me suffer by abandoning me and leaving me helpless. Now I’m stranded here, I managed to walk half a mile mile towards my apartment, but it’s still four miles away and I don’t think I can walk anymore…

Tears were streaming down Katie’s face now, but Frank’s words were somber and dispassionate: “You’ve always been alone Katie, just like I’ve always been alone. We are all, always alone. That’s the Truth, we need to develop our minds so that we can always thrive in isolation. If not physically, then at least mentally.”

Katie tried to process this philosophical advice over the fog of her incessantly throbbing foot stumps.

I’m Katie. You’re probably right, and I really want to learn more from you, but….right now, I know it’s a lot to ask….but I have to get home and take care of my poor stumps. Is there any way you could help me to the curb and get me a taxi. I don’t have any money with me, but I have it in my apartment, we can go together and I’ll pay you right back…

“My name is Frank”, Frank replied, “And we can do a lot better than that. I’ll give you a lift to your apartment in my car, and I’ll carry you all the way to the car and then all the way inside your apartment. You can’t walk on those poor feet anymore. They are your feet, your uniquely beautiful feet, they are not stumps. And, if you let me, I will gently and carefully take off your boots and minister to your beautiful feet, cleaning and dressing every throbbing blister and your exquisitely sensitive corns. You see, I am an amateur podiatrist. I love taking care of agonized female feet, and your unique feet will be the most perfectly beautiful I have ever had the privilege to minister to.”

Katie tried to soak in the meaning of the words she never could have imagined ever hearing spoken to her. It felt like a dream, and she pinched herself, just to make sure she was not dreaming. Frank noticed the discreet pinch, and chuckled in satisfied irony.

“So….I guess maybe you are crazy and a freak…but not in a bad way, I hope…???” Katie could not stop her thought from being spoken out loud, then glanced at Frank in fear and apology. Before she could voice her regret, Frank reached down to her left foot and carefully began untying the knotted bootlace. Once unknotted, he began slowly removing the long lace from each eyelet, being careful not to press on any part of her still hidden foot. “I’m going to take the laces completely out, so your boot can be more easily pulled off. I know the moment of removal is usually the most painful of all, but this way it will hurt a lot less. I’m crazy enough to love your deformed and agonized feet, but sane enough to never love you. And I can teach you to try to love yourself, so you can always give yourself everything you need and want and deserve.

The laces were out, and Frank looked at Katie, “The moment of Truth…Can I take them off??” Katie nodded solemnly, steeling herself as she reached out to tightly grip Frank’s hand. Slowly and gingerly, eyes and mind wide open, Frank pulled the left boot off. Pain exploded within Katie as swollen, engorged, and open bleeding blisters, and throbbing, pulsating corns were freed from their torture chamber. She cried out in pain, and Frank cried out too, as he sexually and mentally climaxed.

All Text is Copyright © 2014-2064 The Seer of Forbidden Truth. All Rights Reserved.