This was written by Lawrence Gray, a guy in Hong Kong who makes short films and sometimes writes bizarro stuff. It was put in the latest issue of Gupter Puncher Magazine. [Can anyone guess the guy in the pic below?]


Last brick in place just a hole for the food to come in waste to go out light for day dark for night pallet on floor kneel during day lie during the night notebook and pencil to record thoughts all I need for the soul of a righteous man is the throne of God concentrate on what is important nothing will distract world of temptations strange that world made that way test of our rectitude.

What is temptation and what is not hard to tell guides written in scriptures handed down by tradition spoken by authority hard to interpret must concentrate consider all possibilities.

We are imperfect will be forgiven though why we were made imperfect why we have to be tested why the world was strewn with traps hard to say would be cruel hateful some times the father must chastise the child but should he torment the child first then chastise it for its being tormented hope to find the answers to these questions.

In the night a dream devil said leave said beg to be let out but I stated in my contract should I beg to leave it will be the devil not me I am glad the struggle has begun so soon.

Asked the Devil why he punishes evil if he is the enemy of God stupid question for how can one get the correct answer from the Devil will tell you anything whereas God will tell you nothing he is not a whisper not a voice nearer than one’s own soul made from the very substance of God known without voice if one lets it be known.

Patience is necessary in one’s vow for in that one shall keep one’s soul.

Many demons only one entity divine indivisible has become flesh as the son not the father saints are not gods have the essence of the holy live forever plead our case.

Fear I know so little might commit great error best not to think simply obey do what betters tell us though they can be false too lead us into error but it is error to question error not to.

Must sacrifice the body if need so martyr ourselves others will follow ask the question whether right or wrong question whether vanity though vanity and sincerity not tests of truth tests of character.

To be correct and vain fate worse than any other revels in adulation truly beyond reproach if one allows others to steal the acclaim all such benefits in this world heaped upon them will be taken in next all the more painful.

Seek a vision to confirm for all that next world is true though confirmation may itself be devil in disguise and believe is the test without confirmation a torture beyond which may also be a desire to establish by contrast the greater glory and glory seeking is vanity.

It is these confusions I fear are errors should eradicate them for God made us loves us keeps and if a wretch like me can be made aware others will be blessed.

Only the devil seems to know I am here I am not safe there is no safety that is safe to be safe is to be lost that is attachment not good for all is impermanent forever lost life everlasting ever after all there is never life before.

Those who say it is wrong are idolatrous with gods as statues where our statues are but saints the Holy Mother Son of God all cycles forever how can we be certain?

I age for certain but no certainty thought it would increase without distraction vanity to wonder how I look it matters not how I look will forget how I looked.

My hands are not clean so much dirt comes in through the holes unless I am dirt I am dust corrupt evil what I see in the dark maybe uncertainty for certain are these my wounds my sufferings my signs growing fingernails that I bite and chew my wounds I do to myself out of vanity to become symbol evoke faith in others it is vain must be hidden away forgotten it is all for me this hellish privilege will save only me not what I intended.

Waking in the night do not know which night mark my days by entries here I fear making entries all errors not the thing my thoughts about the thing lead me to errors have no one to judge do not trust own judgement one word a day all I can trust one true word a day and aeons fall between.

Perhaps it is trust in my judgement I seek do not know hope for enlightenment know poverty lack of attachment to world is path reduce you to nothing but fear and helplessness.

Not poor not unattached am fed should starve to enlightenment what that is do not know allowed this because did not know because asked too much because only one authority could trust would be met here should be release from prison of existence not unlike prisons of world where men become angry bitter know only fear isolation and escape for home live in nightmares hoping to be home knowing no home cannot go back in their eyes what God must see feel for our suffering is his made by him suffers as his creation suffers as his creation is of him but not him.

Euphoria happiness ecstasy in the light of the Lord desire by other means desire not to have desire is desire and lust not far from being desire and desire not far from being lust meaningless here no worse than anything else created for us stolen by us a forbidden fruit in the garden offered in paradise this lust for enlightenment this desire to bask in the glory the light the virgins the music only in Hell lust is denied pleasure is denied.

Pleasure a distraction from power glory truth ask so much answered so little sacrifice so much but should not feel the sacrifice that is attachment vanity a claim on specialness we are nothing special humility saving grace.

All every little thing special looked upon not a soul unaccounted for folly to think one can ever know the truth be at one with the all powerful all seeing all knowing eye the minds eye ego’s eye therefore false for there can be no ego.

All feelings that saints and wise men claim to be bliss but lust even lust for pain suffering is but lust am straying into error upon error wonder why so hard for me so easy for unquestioning others who will die for this kill for this care not for thought only what moves their heart their passions they know to be right all seems so wrong.

My plate is empty have I eaten was it ever filled is not clean dry stuck with crust of dried juice licked to see and there it is the faint flavour lust after more not what should be happening should be taken from me cried out in the night one night long time ago perhaps they should not feed me let me fast then return with small tasteless morsels sustain me not enough to satiate me satisfy me be forever hungry help one strive to achieve ultimate goal without need of temporal things of dead animals to sustain us but then these others were there for us look like they feel must be the devils work came as a snake not a temptress normally not condemned as some beasts cloven hoofed beasts evil beasts too were made part of everything the scheme the plan the will the intention beyond my comprehension in error again.

They have changed my carers they do not whisper my name glance by the hole in the wall a brief shadow then go cannot know if they even remember I am here I should not care I required this needed it have it am grateful for my errors will not harm them.

This may be some time since my last entry it is a day in the book time stretches contracts mark it by the entries mark it by the food trays told them to send them at irregular intervals so that I do not count on them so that the fear of absolute poverty of starvation of being totally alone will help me concentrate on what is left the only truth.

They might have accepted that it was the devil that spoke told them not to trust what I said suddenly they trusted they too are controlled by the devil maybe God who created everything his jailor there to punish the evil have said this before or thereabouts have no new thoughts thankfully hungry read the last words those are the devils not mine surely not mine hunger is a taskmaster whipping me on only the one thought whereas his son took away everyone else’s sins he only took away my last meal.

No new thoughts the end is obtaining absolute wisdom oneness knowledge time unchanging timeless truth same forever only here do things change in an instant forever the truth the lack of truth consistency ever ongoing process that scientists speak of the reiterations cascades of numbers energies that can do nothing but burst into flame again and again rumble on thunderously forever into the cold flat empty black light of no time no place until mind comprehends then what light snuffs out again awake in the dark again sleep in the light?

A noise pulsing blood in my own veins the drains of the monastery remember where they are should have chosen to be blindfolded taken somewhere unknown maybe I was I am dreaming but kidnapped held hostage forgotten details the pain too great so here with the scriptures only in them longing and struggle and war and plague but a shadow of the true book written in God’s mind unquestionable by those who have no authority to question it but it will yield the answer reveal secrets yet it has not.

Prayers silent whispering words become nothing fall asleep am asleep have always been asleep wonder in the darkness if I ever awake did not feel that I could be unless at one with everything.

This was more than for myself was wrong selfish no compassion accuse myself judge myself judge those who bring me my tray those who do not bring me my tray should leave judging to others should but kneel and wish for better things for everyone for that is what all the prayers in the world sound like wishes for better things for health wealth pain free days not to be forsaken left without hope yet it all seems more hopeless relying on prayers cook my own dinner if I did not have others to rely on who are not there any more do not listen to my prayers.

Had to count the entries felt a need so few dreamt I had made many perhaps someone comes in my sleep takes them away removes the errors leaves only the errors for me to correct cannot correct them they take my corrected errors away for they too are errors do they remove the errors or leave the errors do they know which is which why do they not tell me?

I am thankful they are considering me enough to remove the errors of my ways cannot be alone whether they are there or not should not leave me alone here one should find all that one truly needs in the air they would have me breath despite it not being what I would call air.

Been looking for my pencil for some time do not know how I lost it for when I found it was where I must have put it in the dark again miss the light always seems dark try to stay awake for the light then it comes but the light will go as the dark will my thoughts run away from me.

Noticed confusion wonder if in confusion the thing I seek speaks why it should speak I do not know speak or give visions is not all the world can be not all the all of creation can be must be something beyond in the numbers count my days they are my days.

This is wrong should have no attachments to time or place have been writing Day when it was Night not correct what I seek is truth reality then does it matter if it is light or dark am no longer attached to such things might be good but attachment to non-attachment is attachment the same attachment I must not exist must let what it is be what it is must accept the darkness the last brick in the wall the last sound the end of it all building on the bridge of the world when all else is unknown.

Do not know the words that are words that are but sounds that are no sounds that are merely written privilege given to written words is wrong and to be spoken is wrong and to all sounds all sights but this is wrong and being is incommunicatible making progress in the dark in the night in the day without voice without opening of lips directly to the soul.

Pencil worn out finished one word one year one year ten years no word good enough no mark blank black sheet forever no more one more one more truth lie know not good enough never enough never sharper always blunter one sharp stab forever blunter snapping shaving till gone forever no marker to mark with.

~ by yearzerowriters on March 21, 2010.


  1. Great piece, Lawrence. I’m intrigued by the anchorite in the title. A lot of this sounds like the ecstatic rantings fo a medieval mystic, although the message is quite the opposite it would seem. The medieval mystric thing has to be what you’re taking to pieces – I just scrolled up and the first words that hit my eye were dark night soul. Maybe thepainful screams of a soul beig endlesly beat up on?

    • Well it owes a little to Julian of Norwich, who was one of the few female mystics of the fourteenth Century. A direct quote from her is “Patience is necessary in one’s vow for in that one shall keep one’s soul.”

      It strikes me as being the writer’s mantra. No matter that nobody cares that you write, or reads it, or that there is no posterity, no vindication, no reward, the obligation that you have to explore your thoughts, express them in words, and inevitably fail and realise the error of the obligation but its logic,forces you to allow the process to proceed against your better judgement.

      • Well, from what you’ve just said it owes a little more than a little to the mystics and ecstatics. OK, so as a theologina I’m a tad obsessed, but back in “The Schlock of the New” I think I argued the importance of the ecstatic mystic for literature – it’s great to see people playing with that – what you’ve just said could come out of a handbook on the via negativa – great to see you grappling.

  2. ‘never sharper always blunter’ – panic stream. Nice.

  3. The word choice in this is incredible.

  4. I do believe that is a picture of the genius and very un-beautiful Louis.

  5. Louise Ferdinand Celine

    • Louis in drag is terrifying. Like Earthworm Jim in lipstick. Oh man, in order to get that reference, you’d have to have been playing Sega in the early ’90s. The still-youthful need not apply.

  6. “But surely, I have the morals of a stoat.”

  7. Yup, it’s old Louise Celine, who isn’t really related to 14th Century mystics, I guess…

    Lawrence – you seem obssessed with the pointiness of pointlessness. Or the reverse.

  8. Nothing pointless about me. Unless of course nobody is reading.

  9. I can’t believe I just sat here and watched all five minutes of that clip.

    And no Evil the Cat.

  10. Dude. My day has now been made.
    Also: Evil the Cat is bad ass.

  11. And a taster of films in the making…

  12. I must have missed this on Gupter. I’m very glad I didn’t much it here.

  13. director web

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