A Will

When I die, this is my will:

please do not hold any customary wake service. I belong to no human religion.
Therefore, prevent my parents from committing blasphemy.
Explain in very explicit terms that this has been instructed to whoever reads this and knows of this.

instead, embalm my body and place it in a coffin.
Use my body and produce my play Almost Heaven with the coffin and my body as the main prop. (Father does not need to go into the coffin then)

Run the play for 7 days.

After which, cremate my body and leave no trace of me behind. You may allow the wind to blow my ashes away to anywhere you wish.

I come and go as the wind wishes. The trees will help you remember me.

Signed
Lim Eng Hui Alvin 林永辉

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"consciousness is a disease"

- Dostoevsky

Indeed.
I persecute myself because there is a lack of it
each day I sin to remind myself that I am a sinner
to remind myself that I need You more
and I do them consciously
I will it
and I witness it
to witness is not to actively partake
but they can happen altogether at once
and so I partake in that sinful act, not only do I will it, I detest it
I witness with great shame
I partake with great pleasure
and with that comes that wretched consciousness to make those distinctions.

It is a disease because it is subjective,
and the truths I live in relation to that embodied subjectivity.
I live my life, with a constant need to resolve the irregularities of life
the scorns and stings of life that burrow deep into my conscience
do i feel this alone? I do. I carry my own disease.
and this personal disease is the certainty of my physical death.

Do not ask to transcend to a righteous and heavenly divinity
ask how I must live this wretched double life
I live with self-persecution because there is nowhere in this pretty world that would allow me to live in the desert and cry for You.
The Devil's bargain has been accepted.
The simulacra completed.

must I go blind to cover myself from the spectacular temptations?
Is there a locomotive that pushes me to my eventual end?
I do not ask for eternity, such a thought is beyond me.
I ask for pure rest, a tedium for rest that pushes me on
but everyday i dread my human sleep
because i shall wake (perhaps) to another day to wait for another sleep
perhaps that is in itself an eternity.
an infinite loop
but consciousness reminds me that there is no infinity
but my finitude
I do not remember what I did with exact details
but I know I grow a day older.
what is the being-towards-death?
Being is always already be-ing dead
an end to human consciousness
and what better to end
I am sick unto death
and I do not seek for afterlife
because my present life is not done
instead
I seek for the here and now
the here and now, silent witnessing,
which I will remember and to be answerable when it comes to the end

it must be a faith that cannot be explained
it is absolute silence
I live to die
because I am not of this world
my songs do not belong here
and yet
I am in this world
so i must die
to leave this world
so i persecute myself
and know I am persecuted
because the motion can now return to the beginning
and totality is achieved
and the lack becomes the supplement
dialectics.
Your grace and forgiveness
Indeed.

"unconsciousness is a cure"