Every Death is a Birth

8:20:43

Speaking to you from the 19th. Circa 17:13.

I think I was born yesterday.

I don't know something happened to me. I really don't know how to tell you what's happened to me but I'll tell you some things.

I've had many deaths. It's something I've discussed before. I don't mind it. In fact I love it. I die all the time.

I had a death in the spring or late winter, that very much started the person you now know. The one you think you know. The one standing here. Or at least the one that's been standing here once a month and that would've been standing here until the 16th.

Spring or late winter really broke me. But it was good. I love who I am. At the start of October, I died again.

This one was fun, or rather I should say it cleared the way for a month of joy and pleasure and a time I really loved. I didn't expect it. I had just died in late spring. Late winter? I mean I never expect them, I never expect the devastation. The shifts.

Now I'm going to tell you some things:

On the 25th of October between 9:30 and 10 pm — I write There is no one I want unwell. I tell you I've never desired someone's suffering. I write I think desiring someone's suffering has often been used as a stand-in for desiring emotional validation, desiring understanding, desiring compassion, desiring empathy, desiring to see behaviour changed, desiring to have someone understand what you're thinking. I write Outright suffering has always seemed quite meaningless to me.

On the 7th of November — I wrote about the fact there is no absolute reason to require someone's suffering emotional or otherwise. I wrote that no one is required to experience, demonstrate, or perform emotional pain in response to learning new information, information that possibly cause the emotional pain of another. I wrote there is no logically or reasonably greater comment on existence, "goodness", or this thing you call "character" [stopped typing 8:55:25-24] to be made if someone learns something that resulted in someone else's emotional upset and they do not demonstrate the same response

Early November — I begin considering telling you of my death. How many times I've died.

Friday, November 15th; mid-afternoon — I make plans to tell you of my deaths, to tell of my relationship to death; to tell you I love death; I would've told you how intimately I've been tied to death; I make plans to introduce myself; I make plans to introduce history, a history of mine, to tell you why my transformation is so important, how my love of Earth is so important; why my love of you (you all watching and listening to me now) why my love of you is so important; I planned to tell you of someone else, a distant life, how someone could plan for death and then want to stay afterall, want to stay seemingly more than those who claim they've never had such plans at all.

Friday, November 16th; evening — I watched a film, a movie or a film. I went to the theatre and I sat amongst others and watched a film. It was about death. I hadn't known it was about death, but it was about death.

[Attempt at transcription of a conversation 'we never had', published 30 ott 2025 circa 02:35:59; unfinished]