Friday, 28th May 2021

The troll and the minion holding dominion over them all
Like slugs on rugs, or slouches on couches
But no drinking
No stinking locks on the door
Pay the toll before you can roll one up
And smoke outside
The dirty floor
Shoes off before you tread
Upstairs to escape
The dead eyes glued to TV lies
Keep on growing with unknowing
Going and throwing her boyfriend out
Of the car on the motorway
'Cause he stayed out too late
Or left the toaster out on the kitchen top
Or didn't do the washing up, or didn't mop
The dirty floor
As her laundry fills up the drum
It's always there
As a reminder
That she doesn't care
That no-one's exists apart from her
Another monologue to vent
The audience all pay rent
But all that's spent is their energy and patience
A complacent patient
Needing an operation
Dilapidation of body and mind
To be cruel and unkind
Glad to be out
Throw away the soap
And deodorant
Opera

Monday, 22nd May 2021

Thursday, 20th May 2021

An old blog post that I'm not sure I posted publicly - The Bob Lazar documentary is on Netflix

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Sunday, 29th September 2019

Had these thoughts on a train down to the Isle of Wight

Over the past few years there has been a lot said about simulation theory, that we could possibly be inside a simulated reality resulting in many parallel universes or realities within a computerised artificial reality. I for one am not against this theory, I see many merits in it, and with technology going the way it is I see no reason to think that we couldn't one day simulate realities with semi-conscious beings ie. humans/AI running within programs within a digital universe. However, I haven't as yet come across a serious discussion upon time travel theory. It seems to have been forgotten or misplaced over the past few decades.

Come on a thought experiment with me....

There's lots of stories of aliens visiting the earth in ancient times and influencing the human race, the bible speaks of gods and angels coming from the sky and mating with the women creating godlike beings, and also of artificial insemination (virgin births) and all number of greek half breeds amongst man and animal. There are places like the Bermuda Triangle that have strange magnetic properties and whole ships/planes/people have disappeared from there. There are strange coincidences throughout history where great historical figures have mentioned 'God' or similar being on their side in battles and at distinct moments of time.

Here is my thought, and remember this is just my imagination being let loose to think and imagine, and not necessarily a reflection of my mental health.

Story begins:
Humanity lives, it eventually creates technology, it creates computers and AI, it creates element 115 an element that's been 'found' within 'extra-terrestrial' ships within the past 30 years (search Bob Lazar) that can create time and gravitational distortions.
At some point on this timeline this humanity creates time travel ie. can link in with/create wormholes upon the earth which gives them the possibility of travelling at any point within the earths existence.
If you research the strange anomalies around the bermuda triangle or the devils triangle in Asia strange magnetic and time dilation happen along with missing crew/ships/planes happen.

Part 2.
There are lots of myths around Atlantis, the egyptian pyramids (being older than what it told us), the flood of Noah which reaches around the globe in many myths of all civilisations in different forms.
Added to this are the greek and hindu myths, and jewish/christian myths that there were wars in the heavens. Godlike beings came down and lived amongst the people teaching them of certain techniques to further their cultures.
The gods usually have certain weapons of force but also technologies we don't yet have, and many mysteries of how ancient civilisations built such huge stone structures are still unknown.

But what if it is all one story?

What if future humans are creating our timeline? What if simulation theory is just based upon time travel and not artificial intelligence?

By using the technology of time travel there could have been a few factions fighting wars over the history of humanity which takes into account the wars in the heavens, the technology used to destroy city walls, the fire rained down. But once a winning side was decided then the interference would be more minimal to not affect the timeline too substantially.
If we call the 'Gods' the earlier time travellers, then we would call the 'Aliens' the older time travellers, the race of humans that have become smaller and more evolved from our present physical form.
Alien abduction would be considered as taking samples from one species and integrating them with another from a previous/or possibly latter time, used with AI as a super computer to distinguish the least affects on humanity with the biggest possible gain. The timeline would be protected and coerced into the most satisfying outcome for the future humans.

The way we see animals now would not be so different to future humans seeing us, as primitive and a commodity to be used and experimented with. To maintain the historical timeline and further develop us for their gain.

On top of this historical narrative we also have to look at the implications of our role in it. Time travel and construction fit in better with history than a Godlike entity, the structures within cultures seem to be manufactured but not necessarily with the best outlook for all. There seems to have been a fight for power throughout all of history, to dominate the many, to keep us caged.

The idea of simulation theory is that we are all being simulated within a giant computer, that each of us is just a simulation of a process of thought from an AI computer designed to run through programs, but what if we really all do exist albeit in varying timelines created by future beings. There would still be countless beings of me, but they all have the same soul.

If anything happens to me...

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Ezekiel in Babylon

1 In the thirtieth year, in the fourth month, on the fifth day of the month, as I was among the exiles by the Chebar canal, the heavens were opened, and I saw visions of God.[a] 2 On the fifth day of the month (it was the fifth year of the exile of King Jehoiachin), 3 the word of the Lord came to Ezekiel the priest, the son of Buzi, in the land of the Chaldeans by the Chebar canal, and the hand of the Lord was upon him there.
The Glory of the Lord

4 As I looked, behold, a stormy wind came out of the north, and a great cloud, with brightness around it, and fire flashing forth continually, and in the midst of the fire, as it were gleaming metal.[b] 5 And from the midst of it came the likeness of four living creatures. And this was their appearance: they had a human likeness, 6 but each had four faces, and each of them had four wings. 7 Their legs were straight, and the soles of their feet were like the sole of a calf's foot. And they sparkled like burnished bronze. 8 Under their wings on their four sides they had human hands. And the four had their faces and their wings thus: 9 their wings touched one another. Each one of them went straight forward, without turning as they went. 10 As for the likeness of their faces, each had a human face. The four had the face of a lion on the right side, the four had the face of an ox on the left side, and the four had the face of an eagle. 11 Such were their faces. And their wings were spread out above. Each creature had two wings, each of which touched the wing of another, while two covered their bodies. 12 And each went straight forward. Wherever the spirit[c] would go, they went, without turning as they went. 13 As for the likeness of the living creatures, their appearance was like burning coals of fire, like the appearance of torches moving to and fro among the living creatures. And the fire was bright, and out of the fire went forth lightning. 14 And the living creatures darted to and fro, like the appearance of a flash of lightning.

15 Now as I looked at the living creatures, I saw a wheel on the earth beside the living creatures, one for each of the four of them.[d] 16 As for the appearance of the wheels and their construction: their appearance was like the gleaming of beryl. And the four had the same likeness, their appearance and construction being as it were a wheel within a wheel. 17 When they went, they went in any of their four directions[e] without turning as they went. 18 And their rims were tall and awesome, and the rims of all four were full of eyes all around. 19 And when the living creatures went, the wheels went beside them; and when the living creatures rose from the earth, the wheels rose. 20 Wherever the spirit wanted to go, they went, and the wheels rose along with them, for the spirit of the living creatures[f] was in the wheels. 21 When those went, these went; and when those stood, these stood; and when those rose from the earth, the wheels rose along with them, for the spirit of the living creatures was in the wheels.

22 Over the heads of the living creatures there was the likeness of an expanse, shining like awe-inspiring crystal, spread out above their heads. 23 And under the expanse their wings were stretched out straight, one toward another. And each creature had two wings covering its body. 24 And when they went, I heard the sound of their wings like the sound of many waters, like the sound of the Almighty, a sound of tumult like the sound of an army. When they stood still, they let down their wings. 25 And there came a voice from above the expanse over their heads. When they stood still, they let down their wings.

26 And above the expanse over their heads there was the likeness of a throne, in appearance like sapphire;[g] and seated above the likeness of a throne was a likeness with a human appearance. 27 And upward from what had the appearance of his waist I saw as it were gleaming metal, like the appearance of fire enclosed all around. And downward from what had the appearance of his waist I saw as it were the appearance of fire, and there was brightness around him.[h] 28 Like the appearance of the bow that is in the cloud on the day of rain, so was the appearance of the brightness all around.

Such was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. And when I saw it, I fell on my face, and I heard the voice of one speaking.

 

 Wednesday, 12th May 2021

An article I wrote back in 2018 for an online publication:

 

A BREATHLESS SLEEP by William Nein

In my late teens, there was a week in which I couldn't sleep for longer than an hour or so without waking up unable to breathe. For insomniacs, this length of time could seem enviable, but for me, the stress of the event still leaves me feeling anxious and slightly shaky.
 
The first time it happened, I remember sitting bolt upright in bed, alone, and trying to breathe in - with nothing happening. I must've thought I was choking. I certainly remember not being able to make a sound. I remember running into the bathroom, crashing into doors and leaning over the toilet bowl as if I were vomiting: that feeling of sickness where you are certain you will die; that you are sorry for everything and pray; where you promise you'll be a better person if you manage to survive this.

What would I repent? Procrastinating too much; not doing enough; creating enough; living enough without fear; not helping people as much as I possibly could; expressing myself to its fullest degree. I feel that a constant state that I live in is one where I’m just too afraid to really be myself whatever that may be in that moment. That the judgement from others would be too severe, rightly or wrongly. That I will be punished by people for expressing who I feel I ‘truly’ am inside. People's views are often too simplistic and narrow. It's both a disappointment for them and for me when people can't be more understanding to the full spectrum of human emotion and action. I will often hide wider aspects of myself when I realize they cause friction or discomfort to others, restrict my persona to characteristics that will be accepted by a larger society because of the need to ‘fit in’, even though I revere the use of free expression, somewhat jealously, in others. It’s a double-bind as my need to express and my fear to do so are products of my own mind, fighting each other.

I'm not sure how long it took before my body was able to vomit out some of the air in its lungs and get its first tiny breath in, but unfortunately as soon as it did I was stuck without oxygen again. It was only when I could breathe out enough to take one or two lungfuls of air, our first act when we are born, did my body begin to remember the rhythm of 'in-and-out', and, shaking and confused, I sat there on the ground. Either somebody heard me and came to see what was wrong or I went to go and tell someone, whilst shivering, what had just happened. I'm not sure really.
 
I don’t remember if it happened again that night or not - my feeling is that it probably did once more before I learned my lesson and stayed awake. It was a catch-22 (coincidentally my favourite book at the time): I could neither sleep without fear, or live without sleep. A cycle I could never escape. All I could do was hope that if, and when, I did indeed fall asleep that my body could heal itself enough to ease the torturous cycle.
 
The following morning I went to the doctor to find out what could have caused the attack. After a while of waiting I was told somewhat tentatively it must be an adult form of croup and as it was unusual, there wasn't much they could do, just come back if it happens again. I wasn't too happy with facing another night of waking up in a panic-stricken terror but if there was nothing to be done, then I guess I would just have to wait and see.
 
I sat in the kitchen, day 2 or 3, with the grill on to make some toast, awake, but must've fallen asleep as the toast was burning when I next looked at it. I discarded the charred slices of bread and tried again, this time not allowing myself a moment of lack of concentration. My brain functions were definitely slower than usual (I’m not the quickest to start with) and I can only imagine the fuzziness around the edges, the lapses in concentration, are what many people experience whilst on certain forms of medication. I felt that a large part of my brain was 'missing'.
 
It's a strange feeling to be so desperate for sleep, and to need it so much, and yet be aware that if you fall asleep for just a moment you are agreeing to waking up in a breathless terror. I tried out different pillow configurations, I mostly attempted to sit upright so that if I did fall asleep it may help in some small way, lessen the effect on my windpipe of breathing at a horizontal angle. Ultimately, after 3 visits to the doctors and 4 days since the first attack, it was being given a steroid inhaler for asthma that actually eased my symptoms.

The effect was unbelievable. It felt like I could instantly breathe without wheezing again. The fear of a nighttime attack was still there, but eventually I feel asleep, and woke up again without incident. It was probably the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had. To feel a feeling of accomplishment of getting through an evening of sleep is something that many will not have felt, but to those who have it is surely a most ecstatic experience, and that you wouldn't be heralded for doing so can seem almost criminal.
 
In the following years I have, correctly or incorrectly, diagnosed myself with sleep apnea––something I believe I inherited from my father. I remember how my father used to breathe whilst asleep: a sharp intake of breath, followed by a prolonged silence, and then an equally sharp exhalation which could be quite disturbing at times. I've been told I often do the same and the effect can be that the brain, and the rest of the body, may not get enough oxygen. It could be that I've never experienced a fully satisfactory night's sleep which is why I am almost always tired no matter how much or little sleep I've had.

I never thought of my father as a tired person, however. He would wake around 7/7:30, be out the house within an hour and work a full day until 6pm as a car mechanic, the owner of his own business, often ending the evening at the local pub. Other than the sleeping habits we shared a certain dependency on alcohol. For me it’s to give myself energy to be able to be productive at a social or creative level, but I don’t know if it was the same for him. He always seemed more at ease around people than I feel I am, but maybe he just had a few more years on me in terms of hiding himself. He got cancer when I was 14, so that would have made him 56/57. He probably would’ve been a lot older when he finally showed any symptoms but there was one twist of life that made it all that more sardonically cruel. Whilst he was giving blood to my aunt who had leukemia, the doctors had to take the blood from his body, replicate the cells and then put the blood back into him. The platelets were then extracted from him and given to my aunt. This in effect poisoned my aunt and replicated the undetected cancer cells within my father. My aunt died soon after. My father lived with cancer for 8 years. A remission of 3 or so years was a nice reprieve. He had to sell his business and was unable to do the things he dearly loved, fixing and building things. The upside to all of this was that I actually got to know my father, picking me up for weekly visits to my parents house, driving in the car for 1-2 hours listening to music and chatting.

Some of my favourite memories are of us drinking together till late in the evening with him recalling his childhood memories of being a kid in the 50’s, quiffs and ducktails, being attacked by fellow schoolkids with flick knives. He told me he and his friends always stuck up for the kids that  were being bullied. I admired him for that.

I’m not sure how scared he was when he had to face up to his mortality. If he ever woke up in the middle of the night unable to breathe, or had similar repentant thoughts to the ones I had choking at the toilet bowl. Whether he worked through all the things he did or didn’t do, the regrets of losing contact with his 2 daughters from a previous marriage. He didn’t talk about it to me, whether he was too proud, or simply didn’t know how to talk to about it, I’m not sure. The only insight I was given was on his deathbed when he sat bolt upright with a terrified look on his face as if something was behind him, touching him on the shoulder. All we could do was comfort him as best we could, and love him for all that he was.

At the moment of his passing I was the only one left with him in the room. I heard his last breath and when his eyes inevitably opened after death I was the one to close them. In that moment of peace the first sound to catch my attention was of the seagulls outside swooping and squawking. It’s always stayed with me because ‘Seagulls’ was his favourite song of mine, a song which was ultimately about living as fully as possible, of accepting your own mortality and not letting it restrict you, partially based on ‘Jonathan Livingston Seagull’ by Richard Bach. Almost like a hidden, silent code between us. It was also the song I was asked to play at his funeral.

Nowadays to sleep I almost nightly listen to binaural beats to block out intrusive thoughts and recurring thought patterns. Two different frequencies of pure tones, one in each ear, which help me fall into a meditative, trancelike state. In today’s world we are so bombarded with input that it’s hard to keep a hold of the calm that we so desperately need to keep in tune with our body’s needs, to keep up-to-date with our own existence. I feel that if our mind falls behind what our body may be feeling it can create a subconscious state of anxiety and fear which may then often reveal itself in more physical forms. Depending on how much light is in the room I may wear a makeshift blindfold to limit sensory input; and purely for comfort I have a palm-sized stone I found on a beach a few years ago whilst on holiday with my mother and uncle, which I hold in my hand. I have since researched that comfort stones are a common and ancient phenomenon in which they are seen to absorb negative energies and relieve worry and stress.

I hope to never have to relive the nights of waking up not being able to breathe. I always appreciate a good night’s sleep, and dreaming is a favourite pastime of mine. My ultimate goal is that when I finally have to face the end that I will have as few regrets as I possibly can. That the silent agreement between myself and my father that we shared within ‘Seagulls’ will be a promise unbroken. To live with as little fear as one can and to face death with as much acceptance as possible, whatever the last sleep may bring.