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Authors Notes Hidden herein is not truth, only observations. Not truth,
only artistic interpretations. Not truth, only armchair
religiosity. Armchair sociology. Armchair psychology. Not
truth, only the presumed biographies of those around me.
Only my own unintentional autobiography. Not truth, only the
feeling of the Divine. Essence of the Divine. The
interpretation of truth and of not truth. The interpretation
of everything true and false. The interpretation of
everything to fit a literary artist's mold. Hidden herein is
not truth, only interpretations and observations. I don't hesitate to proclaim that this is the book I have
searched and waited a lifetime to write. After decades of
training by writing and by reading and by consuming words, I
have finally pulled all of those lessons together to fully
express myself. This is no imitation or interpretation of a
favorite or inspirational writer. This is, for the first
time, my own words in my own chosen form with my own ideas.
My own sense of unique self-expression. In the ways I have
always dreamed. With the feeling I have always dreamed. Yes,
my influences are here - Kerouac, Ferlinghetti, Gertrude
Stein, Steven Dolmatz, Beckett, David Mamet, Lou Reed,
Beloved Da and his Raymond Darling - because the teachers
are always there in some form. But, here they are in their
proper role of inspiration and not providing all of the mold
or groundwork. Here I am honoring them, not using or abusing
them. This came in the days when I let the grip of
self-consciousness relax. It came when I consciously decided
to share what I felt, saw and experienced, good and bad. It
was actually unintentionally written and far from being
planned or expected. I never realized I could do such a
piece of writing. This is not a book for everybody and some
may find it a poor diatribe, but for me it is a mountain of
creativity I conquered. But, I didn't do this on my own. It was spurred by the
energy of someone who has the ability to reach deep down
beyond the self-created brick walls and pull out the
hibernating inner self. These are actually His words. I was
His tool. He opened up what was hibernating inside of me,
but unable to find an escape under conventional
circumstances. It is only fitting that this should be about
Him - the man called Da. The God-Man called Da. Aaron Matthew Joy Nishinomiya City, Japan, Oct 2005 revised Bellingham, WA, Sept 2006
Chapter 2 THEY CALL HIM DA So, this is your beloved, your guru, your god. My desk is
decorated with pictures of my wife, children and rotating
underage girlfriends, who I introduce as distant nieces of a
non-existent Mexican half-brother. Your desk is cluttered
with close-ups of an old man's hands and face. Your beloved,
your guru, your god. Are you sure you're not homosexual?
Didn't you once live in San Francisco? Men don't talk to
each other in the toilet except in movies. Is this something
you learned to do from your beloved, your guru, your god?
Why can't you worship Jesus like everyone else? Or be
politically daring and worship Allah. Or trendy and worship
Buddha. I have children who will go to college soon. An old
guru won't pay the bills. They call him Da. I laugh. Perhaps your guru is right. Perhaps this is a critical
moment in history. Maybe. Perhaps I would be wise to respond
to his call of devotion. Maybe. Perhaps he is here to lead
me and you to a better and fuller and enlightened life.
Maybe. Perhaps your guru is right. Perhaps he is divine.
Maybe. Perhaps he actually is the promised God-Man come to
earth to take away our suffering. Maybe. His fellow alien
Ziggy Stardust would be proud. Maybe. Perhaps your guru is
right. Perhaps he will bring to me spiritual liberation and
eternal enlightenment. Maybe. Perhaps he will move me away
from my ego centered life. Maybe. Perhaps I should listen to
you and read his numerous books with long esoteric titles I
can't remember. Maybe. Perhaps your guru is right. I have
children who will go to college soon. Maybe won't pay the
bills. They call him Da. I laugh. He calls his life as a child the time of the Thumbs. When
he was a baby he was the Thumbs. Did he suck his thumbs like
other babies? Did he suckle his mother's tits too much? Was
he unable to put down his pacifier? He calls his life as a
man the time of the Bright. Once he was the Thumbs. Now he
is the Bright. Shall I shade my eyes? Shall I look away? Can
I read a book in the glow of his brightness, like Lincoln
studying under a candle? In the house of a devotee on
Washington's Lopez Island he experienced yogic death. Does
this mean no coffin? No embalming? No funeral? I have
friends on Lopez Island. I never talk to them. My wife sends
them Christmas cards. They're boring and do glass blowing in
their garage and drink flavored coffees like a game. Did
your guru meet my friends before he died? Is this all a
joke? A homosexual joke? Where is the punch line? I cannot
help but laugh. I have children who will go to college soon.
Jokes won't pay the bills. They call him Da. I laugh. It is written that all who follow your guru are
responding to his call to practice, to meditate, to
understand, to transcend, to live under the shadow of his
yogic death and current brightness. Everyone becomes
responsible for themselves. Everyone becomes responsible for
creating a better life. Go ahead. Start now. Become
responsible. Stop wasting my time and take this garbage guru
away from me. Take this fantasy away from me. If I want
entertainment I'll watch TV. I'll rent a porno to watch with
my girlfriend. I have children who will go to college soon.
Entertaining gurus won't pay the bills. They call him Da. I laugh. Returning memories of college. I did this already in
college. LSD. Maharishi. Aleister Crowley on the cover of
Sgt. Pepper. Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin. Jim, Jimi, John and
Janis. I once discovered enlightenment during a Friday night
college party. Then I fucked her till we were both red and
sore. I was too stoned to climax. She was too bored to care.
I never knew her name, but I think she had red hair or maybe
black. I achieved enlightenment in college. I'm an adult
now. I don't want to waste my time. I have children who will
go to college soon. Enlightenment won't pay the bills. They call him Da. I laugh. Why are you telling me this? Don't you have work to do?
Is there not a deadline soon approaching? If not here than
in some other department? Do you think I have a problem? Do
you think I'm a homosexual? Is this your usual fag pick-up
line? Do you use it on all the pretty leather clad boys dancing with their asses in the
air? It's not working. I'm not listening. I'm not
interested. Back off, buddy. I don't swing that way. I have
children who will go to college soon. Homosexuals in the
toilet won't pay the bills. They call him Da. I laugh. Do you think I have a problem? Do you hear me
complaining? Do I look like I'm suffering? Is my heart not
open enough for you? Is my life not good enough for you? Is
this bald Buddha of yours going to save me from myself? From
my over-sexed ego? Is Christ not listening to our prayers
anyone? Is the cosmic telephone broken? Are all the gods on
vacation, leaving only your God-Man to heal my troubled
mind. I'm no different than any other man. Is that a
problem? Does it make your God-Man uncomfortable? Do I make
you uncomfortable? I have children who will go to college
soon. My personal problems won't pay the bills. They call him Da. I laugh. I laugh. I cannot help but laugh. It's a gut reaction.
What do you expect me to do when you entertain me with such
fantasies? Do you really expect me to do something other
than laugh? I'm glad to know your guru does not require my
belief. I have no belief to give him. I have children who
will go to college soon. Belief won't pay the bills. They call him Da. I laugh. I laugh. I cannot help but laugh. I am laughing alone. Yes, I am without hope. But, hope won't pay the bills.
Purchase the book to read more: ABOUT THE AUTHOR Aaron Joy is a author and thespian who runs the indie
music label Roman Midnight Midnight focusing on "music...off
the beaten path". Visit Aaron's Website - RMM
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