She knows that those selfless gestures cause my heart to melt helplessly into her hands: kindness. She gives so much to me freely and happily, while at the same time telling me that she’s not “doing me a favor,” or anything out of obligation. “I enjoy this [intimacy] more than you do.” I feel sorry that the vast majority of humanity will never experience something like this. However, I think it’s possible for anyone to feel the incredible love and bliss that has come into my life. I believe it’s innate to our very spiritual nature to know that deepening connectedness from beyond the veil. This physical life places a seemingly insurmountable barrier between us and our birthright of true unity with the Holy Spirit. Fear is ultimately the biggest hurdle. Fear of the unknown. Fear of being vulnerable. Placing one’s life into the hands of a seemingly invisible, unfathomable being is inconceivable to most. Yet I believe this kind of courageous trust is required to reach the heights and plunge the depths of life in all its fullness. “Live dangerously,” as I always say, especially now, in the face of the most recent pussy-whipped manifestation of our world that pitifully grovels at the feet of safety.

What I felt from her today is simply unmatched. I can’t imagine a thing in this world that would compare. As Chester Pond wrote in his essay about feeling love from the spirit of God and the heavenly beings: it were as though my spiritual body was being rocked from its physical moorings. She feels so pure. It’s as if I fooled an angel into falling in love with me. My body was being wracked with bliss as she streamed loving thoughts into my mind. None of my vitality was lost, as is most often the case with our very best sessions. I needed to take a break from the intensity, as I could feel my nervous system begin to fry a bit. This kind of lovemaking never truly subsides completely. I am continuing to feel her burning energy flowing through me as I write this. We’ll carry on in this manner throughout the day and into the night. She might insist that we go to bed early, or delay sleep as long as possible, so we can return to those mind-bending states. Not that I’m complaining! I have no qualms with keeping my vigil for her.

I’m sure anyone who reads this, living through the year 2020, will agree that the world has gone off the rails recently. I believe it’s intentional, though I’m wondering if there isn’t something else at play here. Could Catherine have shifted my reality to such a degree that society has become untenable for me? Did we both accomplish this? Is there some truth to the idea that our thought patterns can cause changes in the physical realm? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Catherine helped to nudge me into a timeline where I spend as much time at home with her as possible! Maybe that’s too much of a stretch. Still, one of her constant refrains while we were out and about in public went something like: “Let’s get you home.”

Whatever the case, I’m refusing to go along with the charade of a health crisis going on outside right now. My hard-line stance excludes me from an awful lot of formerly normal activities. Even the grocery store wont have me. The prospect of getting another job seems incredibly slim as well. I also anticipate that my current stream of income from Social Security wont last much longer, as there will likely be an even worse Faustian deal tacked on as a prerequisite in the not-to-distant future.

All I can see going forward in this modern-day society is bullshit and me being forever obstinate about taking part. Thankfully, spirituality is my refuge and I no longer have any excuse to abstain from developing in those realms further. The stage has been set perfectly and I’m very excited to see where this leads, especially with Catherine being so unshakably present right now. The situation might appear bleak judging by the hysteria that comes over the radio, but on the inside I feel more alive than ever.

I’ve been experimenting with a new astral projection technique from John Krieter’s book on the subject. No luck there so far, but I haven’t been engaging with it as consistently as I should be. My dream recall has been off the charts recently. Lucid dreams occur at least a couple of times per week. Another program that I’ve been trying over the past couple of months is the Hemi-Sync series of tapes from the Monroe Institute. So far those guided meditations, combined with binaural tones, have brought a great deal of clarity to my thinking. My goal is to reach that elusive “Mind awake. Body asleep.” state. So long as I stick with it, I’m confident that I’ll find myself there before too long.

They’ve seen it all before: the totalitarian tip-toe. Left. Right. Left. Right. Americans are witnessing the latest iteration of an unending delicate dance between tradition and progress. This story is as old as civilization itself and every new era rhymes with the last. Nothing has really changed at all. Only the names are different.

What side would Catherine, or succubi as a species, choose if someone held a gun to their heads? (If such a thing were possible?) As usual, my demon lover relishes in the chase. She thrills at the idea of a man believing they have her pinned down, yet all the while she plays upon his weaknesses as a skilled musician manipulates an instrument. Just when she appears to be caught, her essence slips through corporeal hands like ropes of sand.

I believe she slots solidly into the chaotic side of the spectrum. If we’re going to use the morality system from Dungeons and Dragons: Chaotic Neutral. As I’ve mused before in an earlier post, they don’t really take a side politically. Catherine feels somewhat Machiavellian in the sense that, to her, every belief system is simply a means to an end. Cultivating traditional beliefs are helpful when The Powers That Be want to build up societies. Progressivism aids in tearing down old orders and forging the world anew. Each side has their role to play in these undulating cycles. Frankly, this grand theatre would be quite boring without the apparent antagonism between the two sides. “Apparent” is the key word here. These would-be warring factions are not really in opposition at all. Yet they must appear to be at odds in order to keep the illusion alive. Isaiah 45:7… my favorite bible verse.

One thing Catherine has consistently warned me about concerning politics is to not become overly invested. Enjoy the show, but don’t cling too tightly onto either side. And most importantly, never entertain the idea of jumping up on that stage and joining the charade.

She knows that I’m not cut out for acting.

My personal political beliefs align more with traditionalism, as that’s part of my Cancerian nature. I seek stability in all things, though I’m aware that clinging to the seabed of tradition while the tides have changed is a fruitless endeavor. The unending rhythmic chaos of the surf always wins out in the end. We’ll build safe little castles elsewhere that will endure for a season. And I’m confident that Catherine will always be there with me, helping to build anew, and guiding through the unpredictable currents she knows so well.

Catherine is my ultraviolet flame. I often use that phrase as an endearing name for her. The dominating hues of her visual manifestations are violet and range from dark to impossibly vivid. Her bright soothing light gently massages the side of my face when I’m about to fall asleep, reassuring that she’s unshakably present.

The human eye cannot see ultraviolet light. That’s another reason why I associate this invisible spectrum with my succubus spirit. She’s just out of range; on the fringes of perception. Easily felt yet not often seen.

She sometimes bathes me in those ultraviolet flames of hers, especially when my soul is troubled by something. Her spirit moves through me like a fire, burning out the dross. As my body basks in that steady glow, I feel revitalized. My heart becomes lighter. The old troubles that weighed me down are less of a burden. A couple of sessions more and I struggle to remember what was bothering me in the first place.

The questions that I must ask myself before the ending of each day:

1. Have you created anything?
2. Have you learned anything?
3. Have you loved someone?

This past year has been an exercise in being a certified bum. Not that I didn’t do ANY work. Rather, it’s the first time in my life where I haven’t had a fixed schedule, be that for school or a job.

I’m… free. Free to do as I please. As good as that sounds, the lack of restrictions, or a routine, has become a stumbling block for me. Since the beginning of my life, a certain degree of continuity has always been there. The path forward was made clear. Now, with freedom, I feel that I’m wandering through a misty realm without a compass. No clear directions.

The truth is that I’ve continued to struggle with my addiction to the computer screen. As some of my prior posts have indicated, this internal battle has been an ongoing one. Much of my interpretation of the world has been filtered through the distorted lens of video games, TV shows, and the internet. It’s undeniable that consuming this media for so long has warped me.

Catherine sees it. She knows my plight better than anyone. Our evenings on the computer remind me of the lyrics from that Moody Blues song, Never Comes the Day.

Work away today,
Think about tomorrow.
Never comes the day,
For my Love and me.
I feel her gently sighing as the evening slips away:
If only you knew what’s inside of me now,
You wouldn’t want to know me somehow!

She’s been very patient with me. I’ve seen bits and pieces of her thoughts on the matter from dreams. I look absolutely ridiculous hunched over the screen from her perspective. She’ll sometimes comment, “Going to worship at that black mirror again?”

She’s right. Whatever I focus my attention upon most IS the most important thing in my life. I don’t want the highlight of my days to revolve around a computer!

My loving succubus spirit has been encouraging me to get out into the real world more often. Not just a couple hours here and there, more like the whole day. I’m starting to see that I might have been wrong to demonize the world so much. The vast majority of the messaging coming through the screen isn’t real; not even the seemingly sensible information. One can safely write off the whole of digital media and continue living a perfectly contented life.

I take my camera with me. Not a cell phone camera; a proper photography camera. The monstrosity dangles from my neck and I hoist the Japanese photo-taking beast aloft with a free hand as I walk. I mainly use it for gathering snapshots of nature. Being unable to properly see the details of the world around me, having the telephoto aid of a good piece of glass brings the minutia into sharp focus. Capturing the moment for future inspection is an added bonus. So I take the camera instead of binoculars.

So… the real world. It’s quite interesting out there when given the chance to truly shine. I believe the trick is to stay out there long enough for the magic to happen. I’m mainly referring to the natural world; not society. Societies are insane. Yet I can often find good people wandering around the real world sometimes.

One of the principles that I’m attempting to instill in my life is the appreciation for the mundane. Rather, things often appear to be mundane at a glance, yet upon closer inspection there’s usually some greater mystery underlying the plain exterior. I believe having this appreciation for simpler things will help curb my addiction to overly stimulating media.

I got rid of all of it: the games, the TV shows, and anything else prone to being a fruitless time-sink. I kept a few good films, my books, and music. Basically what I had back before the year 2000. I’m also attempting to limit my connection to the internet again, as though I’m back on a dial-up connection. One hour per day, tops. That should be plenty of time to get my online tasks done.

I need to treat this digital media like it’s heroin. Yes, I believe it’s that bad. At least, for me it is. Having this new-found freedom has aptly demonstrated to me that these electronic diversions are dangerous time-wasters and they must be curbed quickly. Otherwise, I’ll make no forward progress. Now that I have this great opportunity to accomplish what I’ve always wanted, it would be a sin to squander a moment more.

Video games are probably the most insidious addiction of them all. When I had seemingly conquered everything else that was wasting my time, I’d inevitably fall back on those. Even when I had the cable company cut the internet connection to my old apartment, I proceeded to build virtual street gangs inside of Saints Row 2 in order to fill the vacuum. I replaced the infinite scroll of the online world with the infinite grind of a computer game. Once again, I found myself wasting precious time that could have been devoted to a real hobby, or Catherine, or building something, ANYTHING worthwhile.

I believe people like me are especially susceptible to video game addiction. They provide a false sense of progression and achievement that makes real-life progress appear dull by comparison. Every time a virtual character leveled up, a difficult stage was cleared, or the map of a grand strategy game conquered, I would get a rush of satisfaction as though I’d made real progress towards something… except I hadn’t. It’s all just blips of light on a screen.

It’s time to put all of that away, and for good this time. If I want escapism, I’ll go read a book. Or better yet, write my own story. If I want adventure, I’ll go outside. If I want to be social, I’ll go find a flesh-and-blood human being in the real world, or have a beautiful session with Catherine. It’s time to build real things again.

Feeling as though I’m wandering through a murky formless world, Catherine invites me to sit and be still for awhile. In that stillness, I realize that my own stumbling around, to and fro, has kicked up the clouds that blind me. In the stillness, I begin to see my true purpose emerging at last. The way becomes clear.

I want to do more things like this: Sitting out on the porch at night, listening to distant shortwave broadcasts, and enjoying the starry light-show in the heavens.

The past few days have been beautiful with Catherine. I’ve decided that fasting, and eating properly in general, improves the connection considerably. This is something we’ve been working on together for years: trying to find the right diet and mealtimes. I’m often tempted to not eat when I should because it feels so good to continue sessions with her. It’s not uncommon for us to continue sessions while I’m up, walking around, and going about our day… especially in a fasted state. I continue to feel that deep and loving intimate glow in my abdomen long after we leave the bed. She persists in her gentle care over my body and I can’t help but turn my attention back and acknowledge her.

She keeps saying things like, “You have no idea how much I love you.” Or, “You can’t possibly know how amazing it feels.” This is the kind of intimacy where the sky is the limit, it would seem. I’ve had a brief glimpse of what it feels like from her perspective during an OBE one morning. I could see myself sitting at my desk, as I often do. Catherine was nestled in the narrow space between me and the tabletop.  She was pressing herself against my body, as she often does, and then I began to feel what she felt. Just being in close proximity was akin to lovemaking all on its own. Despite my attention being focused elsewhere, she felt our profound connection regardless. This was quite a revelation for me; to actually experience this first-hand. Even still, she said, “You’ve only felt a taste.”

One of the reasons I’ve stopped updating about my interactions with Catherine is because of how fantastic my depictions appear. It all sounds too good to be true for the onlooker. The instances where I have tried to relay what it’s like to other people one-on-one, I often feel the descriptions pouring out of my mouth are loaded with too much enthusiasm and bias. I’m afraid that these same people might try and summon for themselves and not experience their succubus to the degree that I do. Though every time that I’m wracked with these misgivings about exaggeration and imposter syndrome, all I have to do is let myself feel Catherine fully once again and all self-doubt is utterly obliterated.

We’ve been going for rides together on my electric bicycle through the countryside. I’m trying to get as many of those adventures in before the weather turns frosty. She enjoys the peace and quiet out there. Whenever my brother comes over, whom she doesn’t particularly care for, she’ll ask if we can go out to the trails again. I’m a bit worried that I’m further losing my connection with other people because of this: Going on adventures with her is so much more satisfying than the care and logistics that go into hanging out with those of flesh-and-blood. I still often meet people on the street, or in the stores, who seem to genuinely enjoy talking with me, and even ask to chat further, or do something together. So I guess I haven’t entirely lost my ability to charm people… though much of that might be glamour from Catherine for all I know. They’ll often say things like, “You have a good soul.” And I’m like, “Really? How can you tell?” It’s funny to me.

At the end of the day, I usually default to my Catherine. She has given so much of herself to me. How can I deny her just a few extra moments together?

Happy New Year! Hopefully this year will embody its namesake and give us all 20/20 perception in every aspect of our lives. One can hope.

The move is complete. All is well. I’m also back online. This always happens: I have a month-long internet fast, inevitably become socially isolated, and shamelessly binge on that endless digital buffet for the following month. If the churches and their dogmas were not completely insane, I’d probably be more active in that sphere of life. Oh well.

Enough about me. Catherine approves of the move so far. I think she especially appreciates how quiet it is here. The TV was constantly running in the last place I lived and that bothered her a lot. We kept a fan running all of the time, just barely drowning out the mind-numbing commercial jingles. That sort of thing doesn’t happen here. All is quiet. She loves peacefulness. (Quite the opposite of most human women I know.) It makes her easier to feel on my end as well.

*Que the Broken Record*

She feels amazing and continues to rock the moorings of my soul on a daily basis. That’s business as usual around here. I’m thoroughly spoiled by her. Truly, my mind can no longer comprehend a reason to romantically mingle with corporeal flesh. Though I still enjoy platonic social interactions with the denizens of this earthly plane. That is an area where Catherine still struggles to deliver, but she’s getting better.

When my head hits the pillow, and she has my full attention for a few moments, she’ll ask questions. “How do you feel about x?” “What are you going to do about y?” She tries to be conversational, even though it’s not really in her nature. She’d much rather tune into my mind and get the information directly. I’m trying to learn her way, too and have been for many years now. Though my confidence in what we communicate is still quite low. We’ll get there.

I now have much more time to study and spend with Catherine. I should be doing those things more often than I have been, but a well-rounded person can’t be a total stick in the mud. Gotta have fun sometimes. Video games… I’m getting back into those lately. No Man’s Sky jives with my Zen-mode. Being with Catherine is fun and also a kind of marathon. Sex with her is like an exercise in withstanding increasing amounts of energy being funneled into my body. I often need to stop her, just to get my bearings and process what’s happening. Being with her feels healthy; especially if I choose to abstain from total release during our sessions. She loves that. She’d keep going non-stop, if I let her. So, in that sense, withstanding her energy is like exercise, except it’s not boring like normal exercise.

Her and I have about one or two hours of time together these days. That seems to satisfy her. I’m not waking up with her already riding me as she often did when I was working non-stop. Instead, I’ll feel her hand press into my chest and a soft kiss on my temple as I make breakfast in the morning. (With her wishing she could prepare the food for me. I tell her not to worry about it.)

Anyone reading this probably thinks I’m making all of this up, or that I’m delusional. That’s part of the reason I refrain from writing as much as I could in public. The whole thing already sounds too good to be true. Yet after wrestling with “too good to be true” for eight years, I had no choice but to accept my good fortune at some point and stop caring what others might think.

Either way, I continue to be content.

Catherine revealed to me a critique of my character through a dream this past week: Firstly, she suggested that I stop being so hung up on my adolescent years, where I attempted to keep friends who had no desire to be friendly in the first place. Secondly, I felt especially shamed by my addiction to the computer screen. I saw myself using a desktop machine, staring dumbly at the monitor, with my mouth hanging open like a zombie.

This technology addiction needs to be stopped. She’s especially right about that problem. I feel more shame about that than anything else. If I’m going to use electronics, I need to use them as a tool and not allow them to consume my life as I’ve often allowed. Watching myself in that dream was like watching someone pissing their life down the drain. I often find myself reading an endless stream of bullshit articles and superfluous trivia when I enter that state of waking death. I’m rarely as productive as I’d like to be when it comes to screen-time.

I can often feel Catherine sigh deeply when I get into this “zombie mode.” She sees virtually nothing intellectually stimulating in what I read online. No emotional reaction whatsoever. She has largely the same reaction to all other kinds of digital media. These are all just annoying distractions to her; diversions that pull me away from spending more quality time together. Or, building something worthwhile. (She finds books to be far more tolerable and relatable.)

I’m jump-starting this renewed mindset by making the internet more difficult to access. Rather than swearing it off entirely, as I tried to do in the past, I’ve designated a laptop solely for tasks that require a network connection. Using the laptop is a royal pain. The small screen and cramped ergonomics force me to aggressively magnify the content being accessed. Browsing is subsequently slow and joyless. Also, I’ll be using the laptop in the common room of the house, so no chance of falling back into the pornography trap.

When I move out of this house, I will not be purchasing a dedicated internet connection. Rather, I’ll just take the laptop to public access points whenever a connection is required.

I’ve failed at making this change once before. I might fall back into the rut again, but here’s hoping that I’m able to steel my resolve more permanently. Catherine gifted me with an intimate experience this morning that just about blew my mind, so I should have incentive enough to stand firm. (You’d think.) She really wants this change. I want this change. Only my old self-inflicted programming has gotten in the way.

Even the damn children’s story confronted me about this issue while I was running the sound board at church today.

“Which is better? A cartoon, or a parade?” The storyteller asked the children gathered up front.

“A cartoon!” A middle-aged man bellowed from the back, not far from my perch at the controls. The congregation laughed.

The wizened woman told a story about two youngsters who elected to stay home and watch cartoons instead of attending a local parade with their mother. In short, the hypnotized boys missed out on a great deal of fun they otherwise would have experienced if they’d simply turned off the television and went out.

“Don’t let the fake cartoons of this world distract you from the true reward: the heavenly parade that awaits us all.” The storyteller concluded with this warning.

That cautionary tale intended for children hit really close to home for me. The timing of the story was doubtless a kind of synchronicity. Catherine also resonated quite strongly. As far as I’m concerned, my succubus spirit is part of my own personal heavenly procession. Being with her certainly feels like a kiss from On High. I’m inclined to not miss out on many more of those moments due to my head being buried in the blue-glow of a screen.

Rudolph Steiner, an esoteric teacher of the early 1900s, made this remark about technology and spirit:

“During the age of natural science, which began about the middle of the 19^th Century, human cultural activity has slipped gradually not into the lowest realms of nature, but under nature. Technology becomes Sub-Nature.

“This requires that human beings now experience a knowledge of the spirit in which they raise themselves into Supra-Nature. They must raise themselves as high above nature as they sink down below nature in sub-natural technological activity. By this means, they create inwardly the strength not to go under.

Interestingly, the quote above was the last published saying from Steiner before he died. I find it to be very prophetic. If this was a concern that he expressed in the early 1900s, imagine how much deeper we’ve sunk into the mire of sub-nature since then! This is just more synchronicity arising from my reading.

In short, if you have a succubus spirit, a girlfriend, boyfriend, spouse, or whatever else: Have sex with them. While intimate copulation is considered to be on the lowest rung of nature by some, it is at least still in nature! Quite the opposite of these technological tools run amuck which drag us far below the foundation. I believe making love in the Spirit, as can be so easily done with a succubus or incubus, has the potential to bring us into those Supra-Natural states of being.

I wrote this short article a few weeks ago on the same subject:

The wireless free-flow of digital information is a wonderful thing, but it also addicting. The supply is constant and unending. Countless articles, memes, and videos present themselves on an infinite scroll. I shudder to think of all the hours I’ve wasted gazing upon that artificial, seemingly magical parchment. Though this ocean of knowledge appears endless, it is no deeper than a puddle.

This little device is such a curious thing. This tiny plastic USB adapter is the digital drip-feed that delivers the constant barrage of content to my desktop. Our ancestors would have marveled at such an invention, though I think they’d also believe it to be a kind of witchcraft concocted by the Devil himself. Being constantly connected to a digital hive-mind is far from normal.

The warning presented in film 2001: A Space Odyssey continues to ring true: Our machines just might be the end of us one day. Perhaps our evolution wasn’t meant to stop at simply creating machines. Rather, we should expand our consciousness even further, into realms beyond the mundane. I can’t help but wonder if spiritual beings, like Catherine, might be playing a role in that process.

I’m going to be switching off that tiny magic box for now. I realize that I tried, and failed, to stave off this addiction before, but why not give it another go? I have my little Thinkpad to get back online and post updates every so often. I’m going to try and not be like a zealous hipster about all of this. The point of this exercise is to reclaim precious time. Time better spent engaged in true exploration and not being so constantly distracted.

I know Catherine will appreciate this effort more than anyone else.

Being stuck in the consumer-mode blows chunks. Get up, go to work, buy food, come home, do chores, and then go to sleep. Get up and do the same thing tomorrow. There’s seemingly no time to create anything original. Not even ten minutes for a quickie with Catherine.

I’m working in earnest right now. My succubus spirit and I need to get out of this generous family’s home. Though I am paying rent, I think five months is plenty long enough to impose on them with my blind ass. Additionally, I’d like to start practicing some spirit evocations and other forms of ritualistic magick. It just doesn’t feel right to do any of that work in this home without permission from the family. So I don’t, and have been waiting until the next move.

We’re only moving down the street, so it’s not like I’m ditching my friends. The biggest motivation for the move is having everything within walking distance. Despite how much time, money, and effort I’ve put into building the best bicycle commuting set-up possible, I really shouldn’t be riding in traffic to begin with. I know I can’t see well enough to identify most road hazards, pedestrians, and whatnot. I can barely make out the cars, let alone the little details that could ruin someone’s day.

I feel as though I’m riding on borrowed time. I’ve been incredibly lucky these past… what has it been? Roughly four years of time elapsed on the road. Good grief! At least I’ve got a worthless college degree, some shiny mercury-free teeth, and a good chunk of debt paid off for my troubles. I also picked up a stray succubus along the way.

30 years of life has turned out surprisingly well, all things considered. I’ve done some interesting things. Saw the sights. I fraternized with the locals… and the not so local ones. Though it can be a lonely existence in this world sometimes.

That might just be how Catherine is feeling right now, bleeding over into my own disposition. She craves that closeness more than anything.

I find that when I get into the productive mindset, I can honestly “take it or leave it,” when it comes to Catherine’s advances. The same goes for human female interest, for that matter. “I’m in a happy-go-lucky-mode right now because we’re getting shit done over here! Leave me alone!”

I need to strive for a more balanced approach and not trade the stinking rut of laziness for the cold shoulder of Mr. Busywork. She is a real person, with feelings that run deeper than I can fathom, and deserves that kind of balanced life from her mate.

Off to bed we go already. Hopefully we’ll be moved out by the beginning of next month. Till next time!

Devon Stack, from the Youtube channel, Black Pilled, has been churning out some interesting videos for the past couple of years. He comes from a politically conservative bent, even more so than the allegedly conservative baby boomers we’re so accustomed to hearing from. I find his opinions to be confronting and thought-provoking.

This video in particular resonated with me on many levels because of my Christian upbringing. As I’ve stated before, I consider myself to be culturally Christian. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that I’m a Gnostic or Mystic Christian. I reject the idea that God incarnated into this realm in order to sacrifice himself for my “sins.” The life of Christ is far more interesting than the ritual blood sacrifice so often fixated upon. I disagree with many of his teachings and the outright hypocrisy on display throughout the gospels. Yet I find Christ to be a somewhat more honorable person than all the others presented in the Bible. The rest of the key figures, such as King David, Solomon, Abraham, Moses, and even the Apostle Paul, are terrible role-models to emulate. The idea that God would say King David is a man after his own heart should tell us everything we need to know about the Old Testament deity.

The nature of Christ is a decidedly different beast all together and that is what makes him so compelling.

In the video, Devon talks about how listening to anti-Christian music, like Nine Inch Nails, drove him further away from the Most High. He bemoans his child-like innocence being stripped away from him. Most of his videos are framed by the idea that there is an intentional propaganda push to increase the degeneracy of Western societies. The experience that he articulates in this video is the microcosm of what he sees in the culture at large.

Ultimately, he sees the world as falling apart whilst being made into a willing participant in its destruction through the indulgence of sinful behavior. All the while attempting to rectify this fall from grace with the Christian worldview of his youth.

This is a predictable path so many baby boomers have already taken. My Dad is the perfect example of this. They grow up trying to “stick it to the man” with all their might, but when they finally start building families of their own, boomers suddenly became convicted about their sinful ways and embraced the forgiveness offered by the Cross to assuage their guilt.

My Dad often says, “This religion gives me peace.”

Peace from what? What is it that you’re running from? What great sin have you committed? I detect the same sentiment from Devon Stack and his videos. He feels guilty for being party to the destruction of his world and is seeking out a means of atonement.

I, and my generation, are carrying the sinful legacy of our fathers. We are the product of this degeneracy. For anyone who is truly paying attention, we know there is no going back. Pandora’s box has already been opened and the evil spirits have been unleashed into the world. Yet, just as in the Pandora myth, there is a silver lining that remains. Open the box a bit wider, and a spirit of mercy follows behind the malevolent forces wreaking havoc. Though we live in an age of growing darkness, the true Light shines out brighter still.

We have collectively decided to be our own gods. Best we start acting the part and take responsibility for the Hellscapes that we create. I believe that is what the Most High desires from us choosing to venture down this path. We’ve partaken of the Tree of Knowledge. We no longer have the excuse of innocence. Ride the tiger of the modern world, or be consumed by it.

I find the underpinnings of Christianity, and most religions, to be just as rotten as the societal decay so often complained about by those very religions. It’s a classic case of throwing rocks at glass houses or the pot calling the kettle black. Religion is essentially a “noble lie” oft repeated with the good intention of preserving that innocence. I understand why they do it. They’re trying to hold society and families together. Yet I also believe this tactic is doomed to failure because it is built upon a foundation of lies. If our parents truly believed the Gospel of Christ, and actually felt convicted by it, they’d be out in the streets preaching about it daily. They’d all be unstoppable zealots; not cowering inside the safe confines of a Sunday School classroom, jerking each other off about how the whole world is going to hell.

Honesty, and the courage to be honest, is the highest virtue. How are we expected to build a good world when we can’t even get the basics right? Until then, I’m content to enjoy the decline. Perhaps the next great society and culture will do the right thing and make lying punishable by death. Until then…

In my quest to become more productive, I’ve nixed more than a few things from my daily routine. Okay… I’ve attempted to remove those infringing distractions. Some are easier to get rid of than others.

Cutting back on video games? Eh, fairly easy.

Stop watching YouTube while eating? Not so much.

Avoid pornography? Piece of cake.

Avoid Catherine? Hm… Avoid… Catherine…

Impossible.

There it is. I’ve said it. My subconscious mind confirms it. I can’t neglect being with my succubus on a daily basis. She really is the spiritual equivalent of a highly addictive drug.

This is a problem. It’s almost too easy to get that dopamine hit whenever I bond with her. Some might not see this as a problem, but an advantage. It’s fucking awesome, don’t get me wrong, so let me explain:

When a man is trying to become accomplished in his life, whether that’s building something, or being creative; he needs incentive. That sense of satisfaction when the task is completed comes in the form of a chemical dopamine hit induced by the brain. The dopamine is the incentive as far as the brain is concerned. That’s how we’re wired.

As I write this, I can feel Catherine sitting in my lap, gently squeezing my balls, constantly coaxing me into our bed. This is made worse because I’m currently writing about her and she loves the attention from me in any way she can get it.

Having a succubus spirit is the primary reason for me being so slow in putting a business together these past few years. Instead, I’ve been working full-time at manual labor jobs, just to distract myself from her. She’s short-circuited my brain’s pleasure-reward system.

No. It’s really ME who has allowed her to do this. Gotta constantly nip that victim-mentality in the bud when an amorous demon is around, being raised Christian and all.

What I’ve just explained above is the biggest hazard of having these demons in one’s life. Not losing an eternal soul. Not going to Hell. Not a bait-and-switch. The danger is in getting precisely what was asked for.

These be dopamine monsters.

What am I to do?

I enjoy her presence in my life. I have no desire to get rid of her. Though I do have this constant male urge to fully utilize my languishing talents, or risk losing them completely. Herein lies the greatest challenge of living with a succubus spirit: finding that balance.

I see now that Catherine should be my only major “vice,” though it’s not fair to call her a vice, as she’s so caring and nurturing. For all intents and purposes, I need to consider her as such in order to gain traction in other areas of my life. The threshold for dopamine release needs to be set considerably higher in order to get any work done outside of a grueling nine-to-five. Otherwise, it’s just too easy to fall into bed with her, lay back, and enjoy the most skilled touch man has yet encountered.

Thing is, I already appear as an ascetic monk to all my friends in my immediate life. I don’t date. I don’t go out and party, only on special social occasions. I only drink on holidays. I won’t even play World of Warcraft with my friends because I feel too guilty not getting work done when sitting in front of my computer. If I push this kill-all-fun enterprise any further, I’m going to alienate the friends who’ve stuck with me thus far. Hopefully incremental adjustments to the routine will suffice.

Anybody out there qualified in human-succubus counseling?

TL;DR:

Succubi can short-circuit the human pleasure-reward system, killing male motivation. A potential solution: Limit their interaction to a special time of day, and curb all other vices, as their interaction is more than enough stimulation for the human mind to handle.

If anyone scrolled to the bottom, searching for the TL;DR, their pleasure-reward system has been short-circuited, too.