Backstage Pass

The facade is weak here. If I look hard at the edges of my vision I sometimes catch a glimpse of a stagehand. Sleep is when they do maintenance - they tidy up and patch holes to keep everything looking real. If you don't sleep, they can't work on it. So I say we all stay awake for as long as possible...

Of course that assumes that this illusion is bad for us. It could be that it is far better for us to think that this is real. Perhaps the real is so ghastly, so frightening - so depressing - that we are better off not knowing. Please, spare me your protestations about self-determinism and free will; most people will choose a beautiful lie any day. Samsara has persisted for this long because of that grim truth.

I've been on a strict regimen of caffeine and skittles for weeks now, preparing for my chosen task. I've got to vibrate at a higher frequency if I am to find out what is behind the sets, and why it is so important to them to keep it hidden. If I'm truly successful I could report back before I leave.

I saw the ghost of Foucault this morning - always a fortuitous omen. He was flipping through the Utne Reader and eating a biscuit. One more quad mocha and I'll be ready...