h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Pleased today: I saw my Doc who had read Words from the Word. He said I had great insight. That's a massive compliment to a Gentile writing on the Bible from a Jewish reader. The Bible is the single greatest cultural achievement of any people in any time, and for a Jew to recognise a Gentile's appreciation of Israel's Book, it's a massive honour. I was almost overcome when he said that.

Very pleased. :0)

Hello Mimi! Saw Mimi today, which was nice. We're going to arrange to meet at Kenilworth Centre Game for a new fridge for Mimi, and Mimi's going to help me distribute some copies of the book my Doctor was so taken with.

Sipho and Sethu have gone out, I'm alone in Shem Elohim, which is how I like it.

Yeah I'm delighted with Doc Schwartz's appraisal of my work. He is the one person I know in Cape Town who I think has seen the most of me, and who I think probably best appreciates the work and the worker. No-one else that I know is in the least interested in my Bible work. I think I was too much for Shmuel to cope with. I don't have an intellectual companion, no-one to share my vitality.

And my gf thinks I need to be taught how to listen to music. He gignwskousa phobeitai me kai koinwnian ouk ekhw monos wn en tei polei.

I might phone Mimi later on and find out if she wants to meet up on Saturday. Her ex-bil wants copies of Words in English and Xhosa. If I went to Khayelitsha on Saturday I could take some boxes to Sindi.

Feeling OK. Was writing cello and piano music but I was so into it and writing so quickly that the computer crashed! And I lost most of my ideas! Never mind.

It Wasn't Meant To Be

I am struggling a bit musically. Need to get back to writing words I think. I've had 3 pieces since October when it all came back, Elegy for Bob, Theme and Variations and ... yeah, some solo cello music which I am having to withdraw. OK, 2 works, one of them, the Theme and Variations, being the best music I think I've ever written.

Yeah David said the Theme and Variations was "a bit special" - yes it's very enjoyable to listen to. I love the music. It's so "me". It's like me, being me. I love it so much. It's full of little moments, little ideas that I have, and throw aside only to replace it with another one. I think I'm gonna try to get it published. No idea how you go about doing that. But I think it's definitely worthy of public publication. I can't imagine what I was on, brain-chemistrywise, or spiritual-wise, to compose music like that. It's so refreshing! The later variations are genuinely atonal and I love them! Wow. Really a worthy composition.

Writing strange music today. Music to wake up to.

I feel I need to incorporate the strange sequence I wrote today, into the Lamentations. But that's going to be a strong and heavy undertaking.

More shit from the Funky D. Oh well. Another time of discipline then, perhaps?

Because I don't enjoy being covered with garbage from these terrible old men, emptying their trash all over me when I'm trying to chill.

Sometimes it can be discomfiting to have other people's shit all over oneself in the evenings.

Schwartz was very good this morning. I am so glad I took the Rabbi's recommendation.

I seem to have touched a sore nerve ... not everyone is completely delighted for me at a time when things are going quite right for me. I think one must press on the upward calling and break through any ceilings, glass or otherwise, that people would seek to build for one.

There are those who would prefer that I didn't write at all. There are those who secretly want to see my work fail and sink and be discredited. Some quite surprising people, although when you consider the sad facts of human nature and its fallenness, it isn't so surprising. I wrote a certain way and it pressed someone's anger buttons. Well as far as I understand it the Lord has kind of dealt with that stuff already. I hope I don't resent and envy another person's success. I think I worked through all that at Aberdeen. I've got someone trying to sell me old meat and it's not very nice.

My job is not to allow anyone to bring me down, but to continue to work and rest and pray just like I've been doing these past twenty odd years.

I enjoyed Dr Schwartz because he was frank in his appreciation of my work. No secret dissings from the Doc. Where are my friends? Remember the Greek competition and so on. Got to take things easy.

Notice that Sally Uncle has dried up, with resentment.

A wonderful Olympic swimmer, say, and in love he brings his gift to fruition at the Games. And other lesser swimmers are suppose to enjoy but no, they say within their hearts, I hate him because he's so good. I hate him because he's better than me. And this means that they haven't given themselves to the Lord, but want to grab the good bits for themselves, secretly feeding on his own misanthropy. Of course this is what happened to Jesus. They hated him without a cause. I remember when Rigby told me about this verse.

Oh dear me, let it burn, Lord, let it flow, let it burn up in the consuming fire - nec tamen consumebatur.

I'm still pleased with my Theme and Variations. I get something new out of the piece every time I listen. Just like real music!

And today I sketched this really strange and powerful few bars for the coming cello and piano piece. I've got to find form.

It's the strangest and possibly most beautiful thing I've done. It was composed. It was hard to write. The material put up resistance. But I got there.

Here it is: only a few seconds long.

http://rjhillier.net/compositions/keening6.mp3

It stretches towards its end but can never find its end. It's a powerful little scene. The final piano chord is E minor and E flat.

I'm having "my time" at the moment. A stunning compliment from the Doc and Sethu showing maturity in her assessment of the previous situation here, and Mimi coming back, we're doing stuff on Saturday, so much stuff I've forgotten all what it is we're doing. But she's coming here at about 10.30 I think, on Saturday morning, so that's good, and we'll have a day out. Excellent. There will be schleppage of boxes - Khosi's ex wants 1 English 1 Xhosa. And Mimi thinks we shan't be long at the Mall handing out my book, she thinks we will shift all of them.

We're going to Game in the Kenilworth Centre to get a folding table and a gazebo type thing. I also want a camp bed for the Afternoon Room, to be kept in the Utility Room I expect. Mimi also thinks she can rescue some of my SMSs from around the time of the Goat Disaster. After a very stressful and indeed quite unpleasant little while, everything is going for me again. It's strange, how this world works. I seem to be back. Hello.

I'll think of possibly a movie tonight.

I really ought to start writing tracts again. I am taking mental leave of the Heretics and looking forward to Mimi's help with the Khayelitsha station. It would be nice to show la van N that I don't need her to flourish in my work. I had an idea, I had several, but my den has undergone a big change since the days of the tracts and I no longer have all the bits of paper there to hand with all the ideas on. I need to start writing again and also to somehow archive all my material on CD ROMs. Or online, or both.

Dear Dr Schwartz is such a lovely man. I think he thinks I'm queer. I don't know any more. I haven't "done it" for so long I've lost interest. I don't know any more. But while one is chaste, one's sexuality is moot, because it's only theoretical. That was Swinton's stratagem and I'm sticking with it. No sex at all.

He put me on yet another new medication today. Fluanxol. It is a thioxanthene, and therefore closely related to the phenothiazines. Whatever they are when they're at home. It affects my dopamine system. I did read the leaflet. Well I had one at about a quarter to twelve and I'll have my next one tomorrow morning. Today's one didn't work. Nothing happened, I didn't feel the anxiety shifting.

Great insight. He looked at me very carefully, very intensely. He really is a lovely man. I feel so honoured that he dug my work on the Bible.

Roy and I used to find the word "stratagem" very funny, and Roy used it once in a Greek class much to our amusement. The 6th Form at school was one of the happiest times of my life, going with the 4 months I worked for la van N. We know the enemy doesn't want my work out there. Well we've seen a lot of things today. Yesterday was also full of vision. We saw that in a sensitive case there is plenty of ground in the bodysoul of la Van for someone to take a foothold.

He was really deeply struck by my work.

I feel that at times it's like everything is about to spin out of control and crash and burn. But it doesn't. Somehow the Holy Spirit holds me together. Gosh. What a time it's been lately. Well since November I've been in a tailspin. And as la Van correctly prognosticated, it got worse suddenly a week or so ago. But yesterday and today have seen a turnaround and things are in my favour again.

Tomorrow going to the PO at nine o'clock sharp-sharp.

Sethu wants to print something from the Internet.

Mimi told me that the PO does special deliveries next day. I'll do it with them and I'll ask the lady at whose house the music is being delivered, what time she is in. Apparently they will deliver at a time of your specification. That's excellent service. I shall use that, tomorrow.

The voices say I'm going to be shot. I've been hearing this for years. Rigby once said that coke snorted on acid would make a bullet in the head seem blunt by comparison. Oh I loved Rigby. He was such a sweetheart. He's gone now.

Yeah shot in the head with ribbons.

I wonder. It'll be an Illuminati job hey. They're probably already training my assassin with shocks and demons. How awful, hey. Lord forgive him because he really really doesn't know what he is doing.

But Dominic seemed to say I'd live on until late 80s. No point in shooting an very olden man. Then Spike was playing with me and said, They shot him before he could even get up for the first time behind a pulpit.

Something happened to turn la N off me completely. Gerry thinks madam was telling stories. Well I wouldn't put it past her. And her hearing seems to be highly selective. Only hearing what she wants to hear.

So the voices behind walls say I'm gay, that I'm to be shot dead, and they confirmed the madam telling stories story. Mimi spoke and prophesied that well basically "her sins will find her out". Then they will see the folly of believing man while ignoring God.

It's still early.

Oh the window people are giving me the runaround. I need the window repaired before winter. I may have to go round there. But they are in Goodwood. Long way away in Daisy. Daisy prefers short distances.

I've got my Blackberry back. It's lovely to have it back. It's a really well designed piece of kit.

There's nothing more depressing than public sex.

The Colour Conference is bad news. Of course la N wouldn't believe me even if I told her. It's nice to BE the stumbling-block hey. None of you wants to believe me, ha-ha! (Liszt with apologies)

But God says, you must believe him to believe in me.

Whoever believes you believes the one who sent you.

I have recommended that Sue read HC Bosman.

This is the most appalling situation for a proud evangelical, God sent her worst nightmare and says, This is my son, believe him.

it's weird it's like I've always been the one on the receiving end but now I'm the bullet. A highly trained bullet to kill the flesh. The block is merely me. A difficult task set by God, for people who choose whom they will believe. The very person they want to abominate and throw out as evil, God is telling them, this is the man you are to listen to. Who will swallow that.

I'm not smug or anything just mildly amused at God's sense of humour. I have been prepared, my tongue has been instructed. I come now to you, and you have rejected me as they rejected the One in whose Name I come. Everything that is within you recoils at the very thought of me. No no no, they say, he's not one of us. Yet God has taken the reject and the abandoned and caused him to be the door to his Kingdom. La Van with all her BS will have to humble herself again. Entire change of tune. When, Lord? How long? There's repenting to be done. Whensoever there's repenting to be done, to be done, an Apostle's job is such a happy one, happy one. The tables are turning and they are turned. God has awarded me his Victory. It's pretty cool. He has been working through me a lot lately. Custom designed bullet which travels back in time and forward in time and which can be in many different places at once.

God says Look at my son Jesus.

God bring me faithful believers who I can look up to.

You see that's the Way way of doing it. God give me people I can love and look up to, because we need people to look up to, our hearts desire it. It makes us completer in love.

But la N would say, God give you someone to submit to.

I say that's not as accurate or truthful way of saying it, as my way, which says, Bring me someone to look up to in love, Lord. Want someone I can respect.

Well of course he is doing the opposite for the Hereticks. He has given them someone they rebel at having to look up to and respect. People just can't help wanting to hate me. Be ye not surprised, said Jesus, if the world hates you. Because they hated me first. They hated him without a cause. I was so touched when I heard that verse.

A distorting mirror amplifies sin in the other, shining a light on it to cover it by. You've got to see it to cover it. How does that make one different from the vicious animals who jump upon sin and accuse of it and make it the focus of the attention given to the person.

All those times, all those emails, "Gotta go". And that phone conversation where the doorbell outranked me. I sat at the lowest table and no-one came. I sat solitary at the table of the lost while the priests and Levites threw salt into my open wounds and ran away laughing and the onlookers' pity whispered You poor, poor boy.

Ah. I'm sorry I was so rude. The woman over the way thinks I'm queer. I don't know any more. Cover the table darling because it's the table of sinners. We don't know any more. Oh I realise now, I wrote to Jolly the Morm and touched on a sensitive spot, he doesn't like me talking about people's relative IQs. I note that as I emerge blinking into the sunlight, Molly the Jorm siezes up and snarls back into his den, because they loved evil, and hated the light, which exposed their works as evil. It's the basic situation: the Morm in darkness turns away from the light which exposes the shame of his nakedness. Well it's not a secret amongst my friends; just as Caroline wasn't. I was duped major league but I refuse confusion because I acted in faith. Just as there is a big downer around your faith there, so there are an hundred gladnesses in my faith which God has given me to believe with. Jolly the Morm will probably use my email yesterday as an excuse to terminate our friendship, which has lasted virtually unchanged since 2008 or so. That's six years of almost daily emailing, often several times a day. But the light who shines through me is abominable because it shows up abominations; never mind that they are Jolly the Morm's own abominations. The sneer of self-righteous distaste for sin, is all he will see of God's face. (We judge ourselves.)

Euch, you are morally not as perfect as I am. Therefore I reject you with a damning sneer and comment. F shovelled it on with a wheelbarrow when she broke up with me. She knew what to say. But it was not God's plan for my life, what she said.

It was the enemy's plan to ruin my life, which was all she could see in me, and the which she telt with a full exstrangulation of witness. I think Jozzem the Unclear is taking the piss, because he sits in the seat of mockers. When I started to become clearer F couldn't stand the light of life, and cut me off. We cut ourselves off from life, from our neighbour, from ourselves. From God. In re la Van, because I've been there, I know the symptoms and the disease. It is Gnosticism. Meanwhile what is the pain, but fear and loathing and sheer naked hate. The emotional lives of demons are very simple. Black thick hate glistening with the ichor of Oooze.

Drink not of the Ichor of Oooze. For it will crumble your heart and mizzen up your very brain. Share not in the ichor, nor in the juices of Oooze or the brittle, manufactured happinesses of Tollorvoid, while I cleanse the poddick snethering with mare. Exit the King with flourish and alarums. Alarums! Oh spare me the gecky heeft of alarums and flourishments in the doom of Corleos, spangled with banners and gleaming with stinking excrescences and stench.