I have a drawer in my kitchen where I keep my change. Inside is but a single layer of nickels and pennies.
I collect disability because I am clinically insane, and the current state of economic flux means I could be out on the street at any moment. My mother always said I should have been an abortion. I failed at school because I liked to party, I failed at partying because I just don't like drugs, I failed at life because all the people I tend to associate with do. Basically three people come over my house. My former boss, my case manager, my neighbor; and no one stays to visit because I have no chairs, no television, and usually when I talk it is about religion or mathematics. If I were to run the numbers, consider my foolish creditors; if I'm worth more than a negative hundred grand, there's an accountant or two that needs to be fired. Should I not do the right thing and end my worthless life? I'm forty-one years old. I'm a felon with a criminal record and a history of drug abuse. I've been diagnosed with Unspecified Psychosis. Nobody even knows what I have, never mind if it can be cured. I smoke cigarettes constantly, drink nothing but coffee and soda, eat candy and pizza and call it three squares. I don't even write poetry nor create art anymore. Every time I eat something, that is one less thing that could feed someone else. Every dollar the government spends on me is one less dollar that could be applied to the federal deficit. Every erg of sunlight this body absorbs is one less erg for the biomass of the entire planet. Last night I wanted to throw all the medication I have failed to take into a blender and whip up a final cocktail. Did I fail yet again? Should I not do the right thing and end my worthless life? I love you, Gwyneth Paltrow. My last five words. It may seem that I state them yet again as a finale to another suicide note. That is not the case. I am recording history in case I fail yet again. The failure that I now consider is in failing to remain insignificant. I have come to an important crossroads in my life in that I have considered what it truly means to be me, why I have been seemingly unable to communicate with people my entire life, and how best to appreciate the last thing Gwyneth Paltrow gave to me - selfrespect. I had a dream last night. Four years from now, Gwynnie receives a package in the mail from the otherwise unknown ellenjanuary. A brushed stainless steel box, nine by twelve by five; engraved on the lid: for my Gwynnies: quantum decoherence Inside there's a note along with hundreds of sheets of writings. The note reads something like this: To my favorite mother, the mother of all quantum theory. Similar copies are undergoing peer review at universities around the world. I've asked to remain anonymous and that you get all the credit. P.S. Don't sweat the math. Love you. Happy moment in a sad dream. Because life goes on. Because she chose Chris, and I love him too; as she has seemed so happy. But they argue, as couples always do. Gwynnie will smile, and Chris will prod: are you thinking of a boy named ellen? So I cried like a bitch and thought about pouring all my pills in a blender, raising my final toast to the one I love. Got out of bed, wrote a blog on Myspace where I am ironically proud of my pageviews; and got Emo. The only thing I truly have in the world is my Sylvia poster, and Gwynnie smiled at me. I had to laugh. Made me remember the the Thursday that wasn't there. Ten minutes later, I re-capped that mad morning on Myspace. I am a prophet of god, can I even die? Comedy is my answer. I post my blogs on Myspace because I can include a music video. The latest one is by Rob Zombie. A boy named ellen - living dead girl. Let's get to the facts. I forever remain pro-choice; that said, at the absolute minimum, I am a living warning against genetic screening. There is a fine line between genetic testing and eugenics, and I am the exclamation point that should end eugenics forever. Here is what I have actually accomplished.
Understand that I state these things for no other reason than the simplest one - I can. I will not provide any sort of proof or documentation, that's not the point. The point is to merely speculate on the value of a life, and to validate solely the claim just made. The last four documents I have posted to this site are the fulfillment of "end time" prophecies. The human race will not survive unless it accepts the Gwynnite Hypothesis in one form or another. My neighbor and myself have literally proven the existence of god; or, more specifically, the existence of god's toolset. To validate this part of the hypothesis, I have taken screenshots of conversations I have had in on-line forums to a working scientist as evidence of performing miracles. Explaining this evidence rationally and scientifically with a professional to clearly define a simple concept is all the validation I need to assert that the first sentence is true. I do not assert that my presentation is flawless and cannot be improved, only that the basics must remain. The simple concept behind literally a thousand years of confusion is a potential already known to physics, namely the end of time. Time may have never existed. Not my problem; I'm after far bigger game. The toolset of god. The span of human conception. I'm currently tracing god through the mathematics because it will not matter if I am "truly a prophet of god (if such a claim even has meaning)" because mathematics is the only science, the only language, that proves itself. What is the potential of this toolset? There is a woman who I only know by an on-line handle, and I wasn't too pleased with her last Saturday. I looked at the ideas in my head, the math book tossed all over my room, the computer monitor; I asked myself, how is it possible that I will not be able to reach in there and slap that bitch? The stupid brain said, it's not. To clarify, at the very least, I cannot see anything stopping me from becoming a real-world Professor X. Except, of course; myself. I honestly believe that god's toolset can be used to lift the entire species to a higher form of consciousness. Quite literally, we can be as gods. I further believe that is why it is there, for us to use; together, rather than for a single Professor X. Yet, to illustrate the dangerous nature of the game I pursue, I have a line of poetry: I have become the Frodo of my heart's content. Any other individual in the history of the human race would take this thing and use it for his or her own ends, which is exactly why I believe no one else can see what I see. In no other time, in no other place would such a thing be possible; and if I grab the One Ring only to hear the voice of Sauron, I will dive straight into the volcano. Guaranteed. The single thing I want is the one thing I will never have, and all the power of god himself cannot change it nor disguise it behind any false visions of kingdoms and riches. That is a fact. I hear my last five words every moment of every day, and if they shall ever stop speaking, so shall I; forever: I love you, Gwyneth Paltrow.