Channel Force

The goblin that animates me has more than one trick up his sleeve. This time, the small devil has decided to work hard on me, just to feel more comfortable. I always do what he tells me. Glad or not, I obey. Am I weak? Helpless? Am I coward? No I’m not. He is right. He knows how. I don’t.

I am at his orders. When he has nothing to say, I remain silent. When he gets angry or worse, I keep cool. When he’s turning round and round, I keep heading straight. When he makes me curse, I keep careless. But I obey him. Ever.

The leprechaun at the controls of myself is all sinister and pale. And the more I look at him, the more I do not understand who he is. What he does. The less I do not understand anymore. You neither. Do you ? I don’t. Here he is hopping, so does my story. He stops. I am waiting. I’m slowing down. He brakes. How would you like me to get it some day?

He goes much faster. He jumps even further. His mind and mine do not play in the same yard. When I know him well he disappears into the moat, he plunges to the bottom of the wave. He comes out triumphant, different, confusing. He always obsesses me, especially when I miss him. What would I be without him? Answer. I am asking.

He keeps silent. Through this wall of wadding not a sound can arrive. Yet at the same time I hear horseflies, a swan on the pond, a passerby waiting for me, a dog, a hurricane, a dry sausage, a brass bed, a cuttlebone … It could go on for a long time. I do not have time anymore. Life is waiting for me. Death is hearing me. Heart beating, short-sighted and chalk white, I see the spring once more. Long time passing. Death lying, I live. And I would live on for a long time.

Already the stone think where your name fits
Already you are just a golden word on squares
Already the memory of your loves fades away
Already you are only for having perished.
(Louis Aragon, You will not come back)

Indeed, I did not return. But also this it from ? I want to stay, since everything is absurd. Since nothing makes sense, everything is important. One must cherish the idiot, adu little one, pamper the reprobate, embrace the leper, love the abominable, execrate the perfect.

The goblin that animates me all of the guy. He lies as he breathes. Without breathing, he lies. The lie is his rule, hypocrisy his right. He is pope, he is king. He governs the world and the round machine obeys his law. His good pleasure makes law. He can do anything he wants and wants anything. It is not worth tripette and yet I am. Wherever he takes me, let’s go! I want what sings to him and I sing his name.

What is it? I do not know. He has sometimes strange names. Sometimes no. When he does not have a name, that’s where he disturbs me. He worries me. The cunning! The outlaw. The archangel. He’s faceless and nameless. Scarface and stinky skunk. Oh, I can insult him, he does not move. All that is said about him is peanuts. If the court heard all the names it gives itself! May the gods forgive me, the animal is afflicted.

It must be baked with garlic and thyme. Oil the broiler pan. To lose one’s Latin in small fires, all soft. Halfway through cooking, return to the scene of the crime. The kitchen is a rite. To roast ? Who does it rhyme? It must be eviscerated. Twist it. Tighten it in a hydraulic press. Puree it from us z others. He fooled us! How he made us shit! No kidding, he has to pay. We will make him expiate his wrongs until the last.

– Hear, Judge, listen to my humble plea. This goblin, this madman, this devil, this bandit, this lackey, this plague …
– The complainant must stick to the fact. Master lawyer, let go of the accused, he suffocates.
– I resume. Innocent victim of an obscure second-rate goblin, at least I suppose, not knowing the first. If it is, it is the third choice, see, it is not fresh of the day, it whitens on the temples. That cursed korrigan unrolled cable. Do you think he hears me?

Falling from the sky a formidable voice roared his exordium. I’m getting very small. The goblin is not him, it’s me, I confess. So I must admit that I tightened the buttocks.

Ah. I try hard, swear to resist, decide in myself that neither he nor anyone will open my mail, read on my shoulder, write my answers, do what he wants with my body, in brambles, in the black water, in the bottomless sky, in the naked air, I lost under the nakedness that excites me, that street, which takes me for another if not me, who dictates to me his law, which it imposes on me its choices, which disputes my rights, who drinks, who drinks, who crushes.

Black or colors, it’s according to his mood. It depends. It relaxes.

This is the force that has seized me. Risky and terrifying if I bother to think about it. Also my head is empty. Not so stupid ! Rather than thinking of something else, it’s better to think nothing at all. Not you ?

I seem to laugh, I should cry. Victim of channeling, I can only blame myself. The enchanting enchanted. The enchanting shipyard. Who conducts the work? It all began in a very innocuous way. By a question. On the meaning of life. What is the reason for me to be here? And you all? Who knows? I asked it to myself when I was very small.

My question and I, together, we grew up. I read, I dug, I asked questions. And the only one who answered me is him, damn goblin! He comforted me, reassured me so much that I adopted him. Then I listened to him. Then I respected him. His word is my law, he is me, but I am not him. I’m running away. What’s the point ? He sleeps deep inside me. I take it with me wherever I travel. He sleeps in my bed, reads what I read, sees what I see, he is me. He is stronger than me. He dictates to me his law.

Why complain about him? It makes me do tricks that I do not understand, that I do not appreciate, and that I do however. For him it’s important, I bow. And I find an infinite pleasure. It’s happiness maybe? I do not know. I like where he is. I feel bad when he leaves. I know he’ll come back, he always did that. Leave me without a word, come back to my back. Always. This is his schema.

Why fight? I love him. He is stronger than me.

Indescribable is the strength of channeling, irresistible is its power. The will expressed in it does not admit the reply. We must bow lower than earth or die for heaven. No choice but to obey. The reign of love is implacable, strange is its determination, surprisingly its total lack of respect for the free will of its subjects. I will do everything for love, so that its reign will come to earth as it is to heaven.

But you must not pray the wrong divinity. Who will reign over us? So far, it was not brilliant … Who is our god now? Should we sincerely rejoice at his coming? He does not come for those who love him, he comes for all human beings. He gives me these words over the air. The voice of the shadows. The voice of the zombies?

Is he another little tyrant? An intruder to watch? An indispensable help? I did not ask anything. I was taken care of. We took care of myself, my needs, my meetings, my children, my friends, everything that makes my life. Who are we? A kind of cosmic mafia with an evangelical purpose? Mobs disguised as saints? Pirates of space, without fire or place, without faith or law?

A unique and good god, creator of heaven and earth, whose sole purpose is to make us finally able to love? I have said elsewhere what I thought of this consolatory hypothesis, but not very credible in view of what is happening here. You would rather be a prankster, bad joker but good friend, who strives to entertain me. In the true sense, to entertain me is to mislead me, to divert me, to make me diverge.

What exactly is this ominous korrigan? It prevents me from being myself? He’s imprisoning me in the camp of the bisounours? A remake of everyone is beautiful, everyone is nice according to Saint Jean Yanne?

With all that, I still have not answered the question that started everything: What am I doing here? And all of you, my friends?

The golden age is like happiness: it is recognized only when it is past.
Lao Surlam