On the right timeline, would we have got Philosophy jobs at Newcastle? Would we have got PhDs? Would we even have been admitted to Philosophy degrees? Would we even have been born? On the right timeline, would we even have been conceived? On the right timeline, would we even exist?
On the right timeline, the old Philosophy department never would have been shut down. It’d still be there, thriving. Nimrod and the others would never have had to go underground.
On the right timeline, people like us wouldn’t be tolerated. People with thoughts like ours. With temperaments like ours. With anti-social attitudes like ours. People with worldviews like ours. With paranoia, like ours. People who dreamt of right timelines and not the ones they were living in.
On the right timeline, we’d never have been born. No thought more beautiful than that. No idea …
Never to have been born! Never to have opened our fucking eyes! Never to have been conceived! To be literally incon-fucking-ceivable!
I’m waiting for the lightning from the right time line. I’m waiting for be zapped through. Head to fucking toe. I want nothing to be left of me but a singe mark on the pavement.
No one has ever wanted to die more than me.
So kill yourself.
I don’t want to kill my self … I want someone else to do it. I want the lightning to do it. I want the sky to do it. I want the earth itself to say, enough’s enough. Which it is.
Are you actually teasing the sky?
I’m teasing fate. I’m tempting fate.
But fate can’t be arsed to do anything – it’s quite clear.
I always wanted to be eviscerated. Like on an evisceration table. Have you heard of those? They just throw you up there and leave you to the vultures to, like, pick apart.
Work in Progress 