The books

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I had all of these scattered out over the next few years but...

 I was just rereading Millennium and skimming some of the others.  It was interesting in a number of ways.  As I say elsewhere, the books between Millennium and Ten are somewhat stream of consciousness and pretty damned angry.

I've been trying to figure why.  I really, really like Sentience, the first book and A Sentient Perspective.  I was just exploring the realization that had hit me at that point.  The insights were just pouring out of me.  That is why I like them so much.

Somewhere along the line, around the time of Millennium, I became full of angst.  Part of it was that no one seemed the slightest bit interested, which still boggles my mind as humanity is not a pretty sight at this point.  I know what happens, of course.  I had to know in order to delve as deeply as I did into what is wrong with humanity.  

Those that are relatively comfortable in life do a fairly good job of shutting themselves away from the horrors that are little different today from any time in the past.  So, to my lasting astonishment, they just don't get it.  They are lying to themselves more than most.

Those in the worse positions in life just don't have any time to spare with high-minded thoughts.  I can't say I blame them.

Altogether, this ongoing denial agitates me. 

 But, I realized today, as I was reading through it all, that it is more than that.  Right up until Ten, I was still fighting my own battles with the currently accepted and distorted view of reality.  That agitated me far more.  I can see it as I read through Millennium.  I would begin to get wound up as I tried to express myself against all of the concoctions of nonsense that we accept and were drilled into me throughout my life.  I had to contend with all of the wrong thinking that has been accepted without a second thought.  This is more and more true the older a person gets.  They get so bathed in it that there is no ability to see past it.

Somehow, that agitation began to subside just before Ten.  It was thoroughly out of my system by the time I wrote Human and Next Book.  I can't say what happened exactly.  Especially just after reading Millennium.  As far as I can piece it together, I finally broke through all of the prehuman paradigms.  I could express what was really going on without reflecting on the crazy concoctions of our past and try to take them into context in my writings.  I got myself into a mode that looked only at what is really going on.  I could perceive the sentient reality.  Not the craziness through which we currently interpret our existence.

Another factor, of course, was that my ability to write prose improved drastically.  

In some ways, this was not like any other writing in history.  The necessary determination to write precisely ...  Once again, I find myself at a loss for words to describe the situation.  That was another factor in all of this writing.  I was trying to describe the sentient reality of our situation and a sentient reality that doesn't really yet exist and, yet, I had to write precisely.  It sounds weird.  it was a weird experience.  It was no fun at all.  In the first few books, at the bottom of the aphorisms, I always added I would rather be writing poetry.  Funny thing about that.  The rhoetry was crucially necessary for clearing my mind enough to make the leap.  Then, the rhoetry, by necessity, had to dwindle.  I'd still like to hope it can come back but I don't know.  It would take something pretty incredible to make it happen, it seems.

It really was a terrible time.  While I knew I was right, that was far different from convincing myself that I was right.  I would write a book, swearing it would be my last, then, as soon as it was finished, I would be off writing another.  I was never satisfied.  That went on until Ten.  At that point, I knew I was right.  It was no longer just a gut feeling and intuitive knowledge.  I had it all laid out in my mind.  After that, I felt the pressure was off, to some degree.  I at least understood the subject matter entirely.  There was no more trying to convince myself or the audience.  It was just a matter of laying it out in as coherent a manner as I could.  That still took a few books.  I doubt I would ever get there completely.  Of course.  I am still amongst those that haven't a clue and all I can do it describe something that hasn't yet been attained.  Some future generation, if we ever get to our sentient state, will have to describe it definitively.

I hope some will take the time to try those two last books, Human and Next Book. 

I still get agitated or, I should say, I did, because no one is catching on.  But, like I said, I could only do so much.  That may be the primary reason that I decided to move on.  

This should be a very good test.  I said my prose had improved.  You can decide for yourself.  This has not been edited to any extent.  I have to admit, there is still the struggle that I have never had anyone with whom to discuss all of this.  I missed that.  A sympathetic contrast would still help incredibly.  In any other endeavor in my life, I truly appreciated knocking it around with a lot of folks.  This just hasn't yet been that type of subject.  Sigh.