Hey people I have recorded a bunch of random thoughts over music I really
love. They are NOT from any album or anything of the such they are just
random thoughts I wanted to share. Here is the first one it is called
"Fear". The music is from a song called Padmasana by Buckethead, from the
album "Electric Tears" great album.

Doublethink Diary Entry 2

When my condition was discovered like all diseased beings I was taken from
society (independent thought is terribly contagious and the Faceless People
cannot risk an epidemic) and quarantined in a centre for the mentally
unwell. My time at this centre is a blur to me, as is how exactly I came to
be there but (as my current circumstances attest) something happened. All I
can remember is a beautiful female face, a needle and flames. Not only have
I escaped from this institute but I have in my possession a book (it seems
despite all the public abhorrence for books the Faceless People we¹re
secretly housing books at these mental homes) which makes me public enemy no
1. I have not read the book yet though I am not sure why, the Elders tell me
there will be a sign when I ready. Oh yes the eldersŠ.

Doublethink Diary Entry 1

Dear Reader

I’ll tell you what I think I know. The year is 2184 my name is AK4700624 and I am a fugitive. Sometime around 150 years ago all books we’re banned, in fact the ownership of any publication other than official state issue pornographic magazines became a capital offence. Many other activities that I am told had been quite commonplace in society up until that point such as visual art, meditation, non-violent sport, films (again other than state issue snuff movies or pornography) physical contact with other humanoids outside of ones prescribed allowance we’re all outlawed, but it was reading and writing that became the ultimate crime.

However despite the removal of these nuisances from society some freaks are still born with a rare and deadly diseases, the symptoms of which include, the use of prohibited language, the need to paint, play music, sing and (most barbaric of all) the constant questioning of all things, including authority. Curiously all of these  freaks are also born with an innate ability to read and write and it is that ability that seems to irritate the Faceless People the most.

I am unfortunately one such freak.

The Attack Of Happiness

The Eagle pecks at my neck and I live again
The sensation descends
Cool electricity through the nerves
And muscles twitch with glory
Smiles don't ask or care for thought
They stick their stake in the ground
Nothing matters now
I am in the place
But not of it
For this moment I step outside
And laugh
I laugh
I laugh at insecurity
Just being, seeing and breathing
Hits as a cool breeze
In Sahara sun
Or sunrise over the artic
Seeing what is
Is Too Much
Sensory overload
I grope the dictionary
To try and explain
But it is blank
I attempt to imitate Picasso to show you
But he had the same problem
These moments, brief, fleeting as they may be
Leave marks indelible
More so than pain, suffering or pleasure
When the eagle pecks at my neck
The pain is a steward
Guiding our way back to this moment
Via war, death, ignorance, hate
And all other lies

We will one way or another get back here to the only truth


Blink, blink
Think, think
Sink, sink
Don¹t resist, sink
Thought is stupidity
Feelings are a broken compass
Follow the computer
Chase the pay-check
Grab the car, clutch the mortgage
Forget reading, forget music
Forget art, forget independence
We can think for you
Nailed to what I know by what I don¹t
Full of facts, yet empty of truth
The price of an opinion is unaffordable
Marching the rhythm of rigidity
Shout with the crowd
It¹s the only way to be safe.


One of the reasons crave love, and seek it so desperately, is that love is
the only cure for loneliness, and shame, and sorrow. But some feelings sink
so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again.
Some truths about yourself are so painful that only shame can help you with
them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying
for you.

From Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts