Category: Literary

Heaven Or Hell? 2.0 (Autobiographical; Voices)

Here’s the wierd thing about my life. I live in a perpetual Hell, but never in Heaven, because the voices in my head oppose everything I think.

People who don’t hear voices are automatically never opposed by said voices, because they don’t hear voices: They’re in Heaven by default.

But to make my way back and forth between this Heaven or Hell, I must be in some kind of purgatory. Either that, or I am G-d of my own mind and imagination: creator of all the voices, as I often say.

I like to claim that I’m a neutral G-d; nicknamed: Neutral G.; Neither Good, Nor Evil; but rather, inbetween; rather: Neutral instead.

So in this purgatory I am often opposed by voices I created. Therefore I am often in Hell. But wait a minute, how do I get back to never hearing voices, and never being opposed by them – how do I get back into Heaven?

These rough drafts, ideas, or notes, are the subject of my autobiography; a biopic of a schizophrenic mind.

Hearing Voices; Word Equations; On G-d …

God = Time
“I am not G-d;” saith the artist.
And therefore it was so
“Because I am G-d;” they concluded
And therefore it was not so at all.

-A paranoid Schizophrenic, to himself.

My opposition theory centers around faith, but in a different way, heretofore undefined. I find faith to be an intiger, the quality of which is often unreliable, but sometimes predictable. What if one does not believe in a supreme being? Does one not believe in himself?

Perhaps I should change my oft’ quoted line: “And: we’re all artists, else none of us ever were.”

to: “We’re all G-ds, else none of us ever were.”

—
One argument, often prevalent in literary art circles where one hears voices, is the erroneous conclusion that one hears “the voice of G-d speaking to him” which I find both factually hilarious and theoretically incorrect.

But let us assume, for a moment, that this fallacy is correct. If I hear G-d’s voice in my head, because I am a paranoid schizophrenic, wouldn’t that make me G-d hisself?

Certainly, therefore, I am ill and conjecture.

“I am not G-d at all” I tell the voices, so that they might accept that I needn’t be. (Very ‘frenic. Very suave).

But what if the voices disagree? I’ve thought very little on this, and conjecture. Some humorous responses and conclusions, which I shall keep to myself for the moment.

“The G-d Paradox: The Not-G-d Theory/Debate” -Steve Mini from the 6.



About Neutral God. Part 1

More about my character: Neutral G.

“Of the rise of Neut; Part 1”

“Neutral God” was, in fact, an evil sorcerer at first. Or was he, in fact, good to start? Nobody really knows, as he’s as old as the old gods, as old as the hills, as old as the furniture at st. mike’s or trinity college.

But at any rate, this is my story, so let’s say for a moment that, Neutral G. started off as an evil sorcerer. But why then, is he the God of Neutrality?

Well, at first there was only GOOD and EVIL. People were compulsed by the G-ds, or themselves and each other, to be either selfish and evil; “baddies” as they came to be called; or alternately selfless, and therefore “goodies”.

Evil people or baddies soon got smart. “We’re good” they said to the good people of Gaya; “You’re evil, not us.”

This is how detect alignment was first cast, and for the first time, wizard types and sorcerers were all the rage. Just what was your alignment? You could be shot by a goodie for being a baddie in the wrong neighborhood. Baddies took to themselves, and formed guilds, and only ever socialized with like-minded baddies. Good was opposed and all was well in the world. And Bad people got rich, and came to power.

“Dark times.”

And dark times were upon the land. And art was oppressed.

It is not yet known how and why the Gods took pity upon a sorcerer who wanted to be a wizard; an evil boy who wanted to do good; a baddie by the name of, well, Neutral G. is what everybody called him, or Neut for short; and it just so happens that his namesake is his keepsake, since he did, go on to become: a great sorcerer and the self-professed God of Neutrality, though why he abhorred evil and went on to support good is anybody’s admonition or guess, really; why couldn’t he be compulsed to act evil-y if in his jurisprudence he was, in fact, an evil boy?

My guess is as good as yours. I know only that, after trials and tribulations, which I’ll get into in a book some day, if I ever sit down to write it, which I probably won’t, but at any rate: where was I?

Neut became so powerful, and so capable, that the favor of the very Gods, both Good and Evil, were upon him. The Very Gods tugged this way and that, for both side wanted him to be either Good or Evil; but Neut was, well, Neutral, really;

So the gods, to coax him, granted him a wish, hoping he would wish to be either Good or Evil, and they could then settle on what was what.

But Neutral God wished to be a God himself, and neither Good nor Evil would have him, but the wish worked; he became, of his own persons and capability, the very first neut; the self-professed God of Neutrality.

“Well neut, you’ve gone and done it, and wished yourself into obscurity and oblivion. You are a G-d, but at what cost? You’re neither Good, Nor Evil, and everybody is opposed to you! And, there are no neuts, in this cruel and ignorant earth, none but you.”

To Be Continued.

by: Stephen M. Miniotis

The New Poem: A Theory Of Innocence

I remember one time ,in my youth, where I began to modify and edit Northrop Frye’s theories for fun. I never quite respected Frye after that. I thought he needed a good edit. A younger man’s mistake, for sure. I now returned to him the other day and respect him very much.

I don’t remember much about my youth. But I do remember that one of my early responses to Frye was my Theory Of Innocence. It simply states that the younger a person is, the more potential they have. I applied this to art objects, which were, scientific objects, too: the younger art was, the more potential it had.

My ignorant, half-assed poem on the internet could be, in theory, more famous than a masterpiece in sanskrit which nearly nobody could read. It was young, it was new, it was in English. At least, that’s what my younger self projected. And if my confusions and misunderstandings are correct, perhaps we might see the rise of Chinese art in a century or two, and the setting of the sun of the entire English language thereafter.

I don’t know where the future lies. But I do know this: I aught to write some of my whacky and zany theories down. I never wrote or published whilst I was young; I just read quite a bit. But now I’m 41 and won’t live forever. Might as well start to write a-now.

a-Lack-a-Day!

“Steve Mini from the 6”.

PS: Northrop Frye makes short work of my doubts in his Polemical Introduction to his Anatomy Of Criticism, where he sums up the situation of Literary Criticism rather well. Will I ever modify Frye satisfactorily? Probably not. But I definitely have some literary criticism in me – perhaps a few essays should suffice. I’d like to publish a collection of essays some day. We’ll see. Fiction first, most likely.