To my Friends.

     These are some of the Experiences of OOBE I have recorded.
I make them available by request. Please reply with your thoughts
and questions.
*****************************************************************

                          Diaries of a Mad Deity
                             April 19, 497 BC
     
    The first thing the thin creature asked me when we met was..
          "Who are you?"
     
    Certainly I was pissed. He did not even know who HE was and
dared to think I was something he could comprehend, should he be
told the truth. Forget the fact that the truth is elusive,
putting it at it's gentlest.
     
          "Memneth, pretending to be spring water's first dew on 
the morn of a cold winter's day." 
     
     That'll show him, I wagered with my alter ego. It did not.
He seemed accepting and much beyond surprise.
      
          "Then, you're not from around here?"
    
     He asked arrogantly. I liked this creature. It had the
makings of a delicious meal. Would it not be funny if he carried
his own seasonings and herbs in his pockets, anticipating for a
meeting just like this? In time, I continued.
    
          "I'll humor you no more. Small framed one. I'm a Deity, 
lost in these meadows, planning perhaps supper, to pass the time.
That is until I came upon you. Now I'm reconsidering my initial
intentions to be left in peace."
    
          "Peace." He replied with wonder. "Is that something you
eat? Something you touch? Is it something to be feared or 
revered?"
      
     No I was not amused. He feared me not. This was plain to
see. He feared not my answer, nor my considerable presence. This
was going to be a long night. 
Hours later I spoke again. Watching him light a fire.
          "Who are you?"
   
     He seemed fine with this, as I spoke with a distant rumble.
The small framed one he lit a fire then, and ascending from the
art of his craft replied.
          "I'm Fire, pretending to be Fire, on a hot summer
night, licking the air, making love to it, glistening in the
presence of stars."
    
     I was fine with this. For he did seem to glow. Perhaps a
reflection, perhaps my own shadow on him. Glow, just the same.
A peasant from the nearby woods had wondered into our makeshift
camp. We ate him. Fire and I, we gobbled his flesh, and drank
from his soul deeply after dinner. The small framed one sure knew
how to party.
    
  - D -
****************************************************
                   Diaries of a Mad Deity
                    April 20, 10987 A.D.
    
     Sitting in water, is what I remember most of the first
moments of this time I'm to speak of. Cool water. Rather pleasing
once I've grown a body to take full advantage of the sensual
situation that presented itself. Namely being wet.
  
     Some memories I have are fully compatible, some not as truly
pleasing, as the water was hot, most uncomfortably so in them.
The many wombs I've often occupied in past were such places.
Unbearably warm, altogether trying too hard to please and yet
restricting my very being. What are the reasons behind most
beings relating this experience as warm, safe, and ultimately
comforting is truly beyond my present level of scrutinizing the
entity that I became, were, and will be. I must conclude that
they were told of this experience to be 'Comforting'. 
    
     As I were told of many things to be just so, knowing fully
their explanations were not their own, derived from their own
experiences, but, well, they were told. Most things that we
accept as being just so, we never need to qualify in any other
way but to relate to who told it to us, then trust it, throw it
out on it's ass, and ultimately file it into the subconscious
where it waits dormant to attack us like a wild dungbeatle,
biting when you do not look.
 
     So today, sitting in cool water my being recollects simpler
times, when information gathering was effortless and generally
safe. Watching beads of water like rolling liquid diamonds making
their way down on my glistening skin, searching out the so called
imperfections gives me a sense of being in a place with myself
that is good. A place altogether fulfilling.
   
     By the time the sun that I've placed appropriately into the
sky reaches the ultimate high, once again I'm weary of the game.
Why can't it be silvery, like a Moon perhaps. Or limestone green
like Lentil soup. 
Because I was told it's golden. This is now clear. 
And what's wrong with being lied to? Nothing whatsoever.
Why would what I was told, be something that must always
contradict of what I myself discover. Maybe the need to be just
for once, the one to do the telling. 
     
     Now, that feels pathetic. I dunk my head under the water, to
see through the liquid diamond. It's no longer in beads, but
combined into one entity. A body of water. Not one bead declaring
it's oh so precious individuality. No cries of boredom or
expressions of discomfort. 
   
     I splash the water as I push my way through up, up into the
air. Gladly the diamond beads of water fly with me, then fall,
and once again wait to be splashed. Forever if they must.
   
   DS
**************************************************************
                          Diaries of a Mad Deity
                April 21 34569 AD to January 17E456 39801 AD
      
     I've been floating with the currents in Space for a while.
Amusing exercise. Stretching, and floating then stretching again.
Recalling fragrances, of tea, and herbs, sometimes decay.
There is something to be said for floating like this. But I'll
refrain. It has all been said too many times, in too many ways
before.
  
     So I was floating, minding my own Fragrances, hence I
floated upon a being. A bubble of Gas really. Presumably floating
as well, or seemed to be. When making an effort to observe the
Gas cloud, it appeared to be involved in a most peculiar
exercise. Peculiar in it's simplicity, and not too exciting in
it's complexities. It stretched into a long band of forever
winding strips then the two ends curiously met again, as time
passed. Pulling away then joining the ends, over and over it did.
   
     Puzzled I was not, just something to watch. The efforts of
others must almost always require attention if you're any kind of
self respecting entity.
Many years later I just had to ask: "What is the purpose of you
forever turning into long lines, then rejoining with yourself?"
 
     It must have considered my question, since it answered.
          "Must there be a purpose to everything? But if you must 
           know, I'm drawing circles. Circles fascinate me."
    
     "No such thing as that." Knowingly I was required by simple
obligation to my environment to explain it's mistakes and futile
attempts at something that could not be.
    
     The Gas bubble then stretched again, and continued forever,
and in time rejoined at the ends.
          "You see? Looks perfectly fine to me."
  
     I did have to admit to myself that it looked spectacular.
But a far cry from a Circle and what a circle was suppose to be.
I'll let it slide thought I, since it was happy with his own
ignorance.
I stretched, and watched it again, from a distance, to see if it
will ever see the error of it's ways and come upon a solution for
itself, as well as to my benefit. For several centuries, I
smirked and giggled at each attempt it made to draw a circle. The
way a circle is supposed to be dontya know. Never happened.
I spoke again with more than a touch of sarcasm.
          "Your circles resemble, well, not much. Chaotic winding 
           lines at best."
    
     The Gas cloud considered this, and continued once again to
make yet another so called circle that it seemed to have a
capacity for.
          "Looks perfectly fine to me!" It said when joining his
ends for yet another time."
    
          "It does look impressive. But it's not what you believe
           it to be."
     Then I summarized the data I've so far collected. Felt like
it was me who did not grasp fully what was happening. Shamefully
I asked..
          "Can I try?"
    
          "Of course you can! Of course ahahahahahha"
     The Gas cloud stretched, invitingly into eternity, as I
joined it's efforts. We drew some Beautiful Circles! It may not
have seemed to others we did. But they were dandy circles.
Circles to be proud of. Circles to draw, again, and again.
   
  DS
***********************************************************
                          Diaries of a Mad Deity
                           December 19, 02 B.C.
      
     Curiously enough I woke up in a city. The center of town in
a fountain. All those people! Buy and sell, cheat and stare and
trading their things for things for things for things.
Made me feel damn near corporeal. I was almost pleased observing
these minute beings interact. In particular a man with gadgets,
measuring Time, by the Sun's rays. A con man to be sure. His
business booming from the ignorance of others, who needed time.
Needed to be told it passes, and the oh so elusive tomorrow will
surely come. Took me days to adjust to this. Memories fade,
especially when they are memories of a painful existence, full of
lies, misinformation and undetected confusion about everything in
general.
  
     The vendor was preoccupied with one of his gadgets as I
approached to try and comprehend how one like him exists. Turning
and shaking the small pocket sundial made of stone he stood there
with puzzlement on his face.
   
          "What can be so puzzling about a stone with a stick in  
           the middle of it?"
      I inquired gently, as not to alarm his protective shielding
before I could show him how his energies were expanded so
wrongly.
  
          "This time piece. It's 5 minutes off. Not like the      
           others. This is most alarming, as it's a rather        
           popular model."
     He never looked up at me, which is what I wished he did.
I've occupied a body I was pleased with, and wanted to show it
off. The Vendor cared not, as he turned the gadget in his hand,
then going around in circles to catch the best rays of the Sun.
My Sun!
    
          "MIH-NUTS? What are those Mih-Nuts you seem to think    
           are missing?"
     I had to ask this, since the reference was long lost, if
there has ever been one, in my banks.
   
          "Units of time. M i n u t e s", - he insisted to
explain. Certainly he knew of what he spoke of, as he continued.
          "You know. Hours, minutes, seconds. As time passes. My
invention measures this and allows a most accurate display to
tell the owner what TIME it is."
   
          "What Time is? That's preposterous. This question has
broken many of the finest minds and beings I've encountered,
while they were certain they were upon it's truth."
     I was beginning to get irritated by such nonsense from such
a person who was about to explain what TIME was.
I've put this aside to ponder it once I was done with fulfilling
the rest of my curiosity about the man. After all, there was a
reason I woke up in the middle of this here place, with him
standing there. I changed tactics.
    
          "How is this piece of stone different from the others?
Can you detect a flaw, since you have been examining it over and
over again?"
   
     For the first time he looked up from his invention, and
placed it near the other numerous gadgets covering his makeshift
table.
          "You see any difference? I sure don't! This timepiece
was made with the same care and craftsmanship as all the others I
assure you. I'm a professional inventor. I have pride you know."
   
          "Perhaps. Still, this piece seems to disagree with you.
I tell you what. I'll take it off your hands, so you may be once
again at peace with your efforts. Noone will know but you and me,
that your craft is not without it's faults."
     
     He considered the idea then once again carefully raising the
gadget to the Sun's rays, he concluded that his efforts in
gaining an understanding were futile. He handed me the gadget
with considerable doubt, turning away from me he returned his
attention to his task at hand. Selling his MIH-NUTS measuring
devices.
          "Be on Time! Measure Time! Know the Time! Watch Time
pass! The exact Time is - Just look! It's Four-Oh-Seven in the
After Noon!"
      
     I left him there with his precious MIH-NUTS, taking with me
the faulty gadget. After all, it's the least I could do. It meant
nothing much to me. Besides - I'll always be Five MIH-NUTS ahead
of all of them. Always.

   - D - 
********************************************************

                          Diaries of a Mad Deity
                             Sept 14. 6007 AD
    
     Out of the purple fog I was toying with, a shape of a figure
appeared. It spoke at first softly to me, then with authority. It
appeared comfortable with who or what it was.
     
          "I am the creator of it all, and I'm not ashamed."
      
     A husky voice that carried into the next dimension just
saturated my full being. Curious. Usually I'm the one making
noise. I assumed it wanted to be acknowledged, or at least
noticed, so I replied.
   
          "How long have you ..  been feeling this way?"
  
     My voice may have been hesitant, or apprehensive even, for
the being reacted with a stormy and chaotic audiovisual
extravaganza that chilled the bones of those who still had any.
I continued, as it appeared to need some sympathy or at least
some assurance that I'd be willing to correspond with it.
    
          "Doesn't that hurt? How does it feel when you do that?
Like dying? You know what I mean. The 'change'. Does it align
your chakras? Does it make you more aware? What exactly does it
do for you?"
     
          "You like it? Impressive huh? Worked on it for eons."

     It was turning that shade of purple again like when we first
met, long ago. I smiled.
   
          "Not bad. But it appears rather wasteful. For a creator
that is. Why would a creator of all things need to practice for
so long to make noise?"
  
     The answer came after a careful thought process it likely
had turned over and over until it was satisfied with it.
  
          "Well, I screw up a lot. I mean, look at you. I've made
you. So badly in fact that you share this time with me, yet
you're not aware of who you are, who I am, and what process
brought us here, together."
     
     Is this guy for real? I thought this over, in between
juggling memories of blocks of salt as a currency, tastes of
lemongrass in a fragrant tea, and bathing in solar flares of
distant suns. What 'real' was to IT and what it meant to me had
to have a common ground on which we could meet.
  
          "Look. I think you're a nasty little kid that needs a
good spanking. What you think of that huh? Maybe it's time
someone put you in your place, you little shit."
     
     The cloud of purple had turned dark and poisonously green at
first, then black, fading into the soup in which we swim. As it
left me there, I've still made out it's thoughts, although only
in traces.
     
          "That's my boy! Gotto go. Much to do. Much more to
create."
  
     And why not have the last word? So I offered..
    
          "You do that. But heed my word. The Creator business
ain't what it used to be. Dad."
               
           DS
***************************************************************

                          Diaries of a Mad Deity
                           2161 AD, December 42
    
          "Give us this day our daily breath. And deliver us from
           the mediocre."
  
     I watched in awe. There was noone to see. Just a shadow.
Perhaps a man or a woman, standing in this wet dark alley,
somewhere far from here, where the moons have no name.
Sorrow this great had to be addressed. Talked to, or helped even.
So I approached cautiously, as I still could not see anyone, but
a shadow. Getting near, I realized that is what it was. A shadow
of someone. Alive or long dead. A no body nobody. This was
unimportant.
          "You sound bitter." I started out.
  
     The shadow quickly shifted, scaling the puddle under itself.
Once it examined my being the water calmed, save from drops of
rain falling into it, making circles.
          "My God has forsaken me. Put me here. Wouldn't you be
upset?"
  
     I considered this. 
          "No. I would not. I'd kill it."
  
          "Oh I did that." The shadow said to me. It seemed
almost annoyed. Then continued.
          "That's not the predicament. Only that I can't leave
here. My God was a shrewd one. It placed me here AFTER I killed
it. Time delayed..  It knew my plans."
     
          "If it did, why would it let you kill it?"
   
     The shadow shifted once again, and sighed.
          "I never said it was smart or anything. Just shrewd. It
was selfish, egocentric and bitter."
  
          "Like you?"
  
          "Like me. I was made in it's image after all. Pretty
pathetic wouldn't you say? But now I wish to go on. And I can't.
I found out the diabolic trick I was played upon. I'm just like
God was. Selfish, egocentric, bitter and too damn proud to admit
my fault."
     
     This shadow of a being was indeed in a predicament with
itself. How can you win an argument with yourself? It's not
possible. It was correct. This was indeed a painful predicament.
I have checked my energy consumption. After all, even with
unlimited energy, and a forever to replenish it, why waste it on
something so mundane. I've had minute amounts allocated to this,
so I've offered a last solution. 
          "Why don't you follow me? I will lead you out of here.
Then you may be on your way if you wish."
   
     The shadow grew and moved away from me somewhat.
Last thing I've heard it say was .. "I can't. I killed that which
has the power to release me. Now I'm trapped forever."
          
     Certainly, listening to this much nonsense, however
important this explanation seemed to the shadow, had made me
hungry. So I left. 
          "You poor Son Of A God"
     
     Lunch was good. I think the soup had leeks in it.
  
         DS
*********************************************************

            Diaries of a Mad Deity
                Date unknown.

  A meaningful attempt on your part to derive something out of
something which is nothing. To conjure senses out of Clay and to
perfect the mold which has been broken.
    
  A skin that is amber with sunlight. A breast that feeds that
leans against it. All included - no remorse. You are beautiful.
  
  As I awoke from the realm of these senses, the lady of webs
that memory spawned, came to life to nurture my dying thoughts.
And it was pleasant, and good, and all knowing of my desires of
the flesh and beyond that - the need to be what I was. The needy.
The leftover of a creator once so well meaning and yet so
unworthy of the powers allowing it to create with dignity and
skill. 
 
 This Lady. This Mother God. She fills me with anger. Anger of
wanting her to ease the pain and to release the desires so
unjustly built into my ego. This Lady, she is the answer. The
rage I feel of needing her overshadows my reality, my logic and
understanding of security which no longer covers as she gets near
me. The alarm goes off once again, as she approaches. Alarm to
deny her right to have me. To devour my very existence with what?
Only with the charms she was so freely given, once, long ago,
without a hint of remorse on the part of her Svengali.
 
 I protest no more. I feel her warmth. I feel the value that is
out of balance and requires me to be nothing to her. Food for her
soul. Food for her desires. Mine - no longer apparent. I'm
nothing. I'm the nourishment she requires. And into the tunnel I
go. Nay! I BEG to go! I beg to shed what I once was. ...
I cry, and weep for myself. Of what I have become. A beggar.
      
    DS
**************************************************************

                          Diaries of a Mad Deity
                            March 11th 1412 AD
               
     I think..
   
     .. that every book read, should be marked for passages.
Every person, should be noted for certain traits, discarding the
rest. The idea of taking any one book, or persons as a whole is
unfair to the writer, or the person. Qualities come from rare and
magic moments of life. These moments need to be marked as
special, and as pertinent to any one thing.
    
     Much the same in life. Life should also be scrutinized for
passages which are memorable. And the rest of the time, when
things are not as bright and poignant, should be spent preparing
for the next moment of sudden impact with things rememberable.
   
     Such a slice of time, I spent one afternoon, not too long
ago. Life is generous, in that it allows a person to live many
lives, if only they dare to close their eyes to this, that is
'real' and open it to that, which is everyone's revenge on
mediocrity. So Imagine then with me, my time in La Tosca.
     
     This memory begins where the events became important to
telling of this time of magic with the Olive Madonna. 
     
     As a young man, fresh out of Sorbonne, traveling to La
Tosca, Italy, joining the Law Firm of Giovanni, Giovanni and
Kepler, I had no hopes of gaining success of any sort. I simply
adore the Italian countryside. Besides, success in france would
have meant compromise to my sense of 'La Dolce Vita' that I
acquired being raised near a bordello on La Rue Parisienne. Above
the Boulangerie, in a one bedroom with a broken bidet. Staring at
the picture of my dead parents. Oh how I hated them at first.
But I'm off the subject.
 
     During one lazy afternoon in Medina, sipping Grappa, my eyes
gazed upon her for the first time. The Olive Madonna. Manuela De
Medici I later learned. I have spent much time to investigate
where she lived, what she did, and how I could get close to this
woman of fine features, and impeccable upbringing. I labored
hard, and when one does this, one invariably get what they dream
about.
     
     We had three children. All of us living on her mother's
estate the kids have had an upbringing of love, culture, and
moral values. And a deep understanding of nature few children
will ever be exposed to. Manuela was the best mother anyone could
ask for. And my efforts of conveying the worldly knowledge I have
carried, had also paid off. They were bright, sensitive, and
unquestionably Medici. Adrien, Lua and Dominic. A joy to us all.
Especially to Lorenza De Medici. The proud grandmother.
     
     My wife! The bestest. Manuela had skin like the Virgin Oliva
oil pressed lovingly by the peasants of Medina. Sultry like the
Balsamic Vinegar in wooden barrels, aged to perfection in the
second story room of the estate. Some of which was put there
before her and my birth, to one day delight some unknown traveler
from a land far away. Oh, she was magnificent. A loving daughter,
wife, mother and lover. An accomplished whore in bed, an eloquent
spokeswoman for the estate at town meetings, a teacher, nurse,
mother and friend to our children and to all of us who she has
ever laid her deep brown eyes on. Manuela, the Olive Madonna.
     
     I was truly blessed, to the day she died. And blessed even
after, for in the eyes of my children, I saw the Olive Madonna
and all her qualities, a thousand fold. And the day I've died,
the dream was over. A beautiful dream. A passage in a book,
marked for quality, and assurance that the time spent was well
spent. And that now, reading it again, she, the Olive Madonna
lives. Lives with me here, planning yet another magic slice of
time to be spent. To adore with me each moment as it passes. 
     
   - D -

**************************************************************

                          Diaries of a Mad Deity
                          Near 'Death' Memoirs
    
     I charmed the pants right on her!
This young lady was divine. Milk and honey, flowing long hair,
the works. Attitude to match. Right on top of the feminist
movement, and her looks justified her to be on top in most
situations. For the best view for the money.
     "You're staring." She was in her element.
     "Of course I am. You are beautiful." Did not hurt to tell
her that. 
     "Can you come up with a better reason?"
     "Not at this time, but I can expand on this. You just remind
me of an android. A basic pleasure model. Every military base
should have a few."
     "Men are pigs. One shouldn't wonder."
     I felt the urge to retaliate. She was doing the mental
accupressure.
     "What would that make women then, when they finally do bend
over? Sows?"
     She surprised me. My balls remained in the pouch.
     "Oink. You're not doing too well."
     "I have no intent to do 'well'. I don't even have an intent
to do any good at all. I just looked. Relax. Every glance at your
treasures may not warrant an intention of primal poking."
     
     Boy, did I mean it. She was not having much fun. The cost of
my passing glance at a pretty buttocks was beginning to pile up.
     
     "So then, you looked, with no intentions other than for
aesthetic reasons. Sure, I believe it."
     "Believe it. Perhaps nobody has ever offered you sliced
peaches in lieu of a salami."
     She looked puzzled. Obviously this has gone past the point
of no return. I was beginning to be sorry. Nah. It was too much
fun. 
     "So. You're offering sliced peaches." She smirked.
     "Presupposing again. Now now young maiden. That was an
observation. Not an offer."
     "No peaches then?"
     "No peaches."
     
     Now we were sitting at the same level. I no longer had to be
looking up, tensing the neck muscles, staring at the bottom of
her pedestal. She knew it. I knew it. And it was good.
     
     "My name is Lisa."
     "Of course it is." I had to do that. Men ARE pigs.
     "What if I were to supply the peaches?" This woman was evil.
Evil I tell you.
     "You'd have to find someone that liked peaches and poetry,
by candlelight."
     "Don't you?"
     "Not on such short notice. I like long foreplays. Besides, I
have to do my.. hair. That's it. My hair."
     Did not stop her from trying. I knew the game. And she was a
pro. Get them by the balls, or by the intellect. Matters not,
just get them. Cut them and sit back to watch. Who ever said only
women bleed?
     "Ah. Wednesday again. How time flies." She added, smiling.
She had a pretty smile too. 
     "I'm just not interested. I understand you're not used to
this. And I also understand that you will get over it all very
quickly." It was time to fold. I really had no intents to
continue. She had a different idea.
     
     "So, you turn them on like a hot faucet, then leave them
there steaming."
     I saw her discomfort growing. Loved it.

     "To help repair your ego, I was the one that looked first
when you walked in." She sounded sincere. Made me feel like she
wanted to. I owed her the shot. I looked sufficiently humbled.
     
     "How about some peaches then? No cream." I said this so she
could reject me with dignity. An exercise in investing for the
betterment of inter gender relationships. What came then hurt a
lot.
     "Yes, I'd love to"
     
     - D -

**************************************************************

                          Diaries of a Mad Deity
                             April 45, 2342
   
     I hovered above the young male, in this isolated place. His
yearning reached far..  far, where I was, oh so blissful. Had to
come to witness. Such power.
     
     He lay awake, the green Sun barely yet on the horizon, and
he spoke. Spoke with feelings that melted stars. His feelings
were true. For they illuminated my path. So I watched.
     
     "You.. are everything to me. I yearn for your love. In
everything, I see you. In everyone, I hear you. In every breath,
I breath - You. I walk, I talk alone. I lay awake, gladly.
Fearing. Fearing, you. The one I adore."
 
     The woman's silhouette then appeared in his doorway.
     
     "Son. It is time to go to school. Sun is up."
     
     "Awww, Mom! Must you bring me your reality? Must I.. must I
always be here? Can't one cross this young? I want, no, I need to
go across. To her."
     
     "She is going to school, as we speak. There, you shall find
her. There, you shall wake from your images."
     
     "All Right Mom. But, I can't find my third shoe!"
     
     "Hop on two legs then, if you must, young Empath. Time for
you to go."
     
     "Mom? Do Women Love?"
     
     "No Son. Women bleed. Girls love."
     
     "Mom? Do men bleed?"
     
     "Very few, Son. It's an acquired taste."
     
     "Mom? Does father bleed?"
     
     "No Son. He has forgotten how to."
     
     "Mom? Will I bleed?"
     
     "You already are, my love. You already are."
     
     Watched the young Empath take the third shoe from his
mother, fastening the bolts on it, and take the next ray of
light-tram, to school. I was blissed. I felt honored, to See.
 
   - D -

************************************************************


   I hope you have enjoyed these writings. Some were lived, some
observed through OOBE. These are just those that can be
remembered. As a lot of the experiences are so profound and
different in properties from 'This' plane of existence, that they
cannot be put into words. 
 
   Please correspond and let me know if you wish to read some
more of these experiences, and perhaps share your's as well.
 
 Steve Aranyi
 71777, 3335