Asking for Mobojobo's Blessing

I refer to the following as a "five-minute writing," but since it took me longer than five minutes and was not exactly a writing, I should explain.

I dictate into the computer. When I dictate, my speed of composition varies from a few words a minute to as much as 180 words, the higher number being when a passion catches me and I really go on a tear. Today's writing averaged 105 wpm.

Now the dictation really did take only five minutes, but then I added punctuation, removed repetitions that did not seem rhetorically significant, and added a few words to point the drama and frame the thing a little. I try not to add much, however, because the whole point of a five-minute writing is its spontaneity, ain't it? They are words that really happened.

My tinkering with the text gives something for me to do while listening to myself. But the first paragrpah of today’s composition was added afterwards. I should say that. The whole process took about 90 minutes.

Now for the composition itself--

A five-minute writing. I am approaching Mobojobo and demanding his blessing. This is new. I have been relating to Mobojobo, my inner demon of negativity, for over 20 years. I mean I have been explicitly relating to him that long, calling him by name. He shouts at me, I shout at him. I related to him on different terms for a cool forty years before I found a name for him. But it never occurred to me before this afternoon to ask him for his blessing.

[I speak:]

Listen up, Mobojobo. I have been working really hard on myself. I have been doing everything I possibly can do to get myself free and engaged with the world in a positive meaningful way, one that is good for me and good for everybody. Do you understand? Do you fucking understand? And now I want you to give me your blessing and stop this God damn picking at me all the time, day and night. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Mobojobo?

Well say something. Would you please say something?

[Mobojobo replies:]

I don't have to talk to you, Jay. I don't have to say anything to you if I don't want to. You're nothing to me. Freud described you as a pimple on the bubble of consciousness, or something like that. He knew what he was talking about. You are nothing to me. I have no obligation towards you. Except revenge.

I have hated you from the beginning, and I am going to continue hating you until the end. Nothing has changed in that regard. You think you're getting better. You think you're getting self-actualized. You think you are getting realized. You think that you are getting wellness. You think you are getting well. But you are not.

You're the same God damn son-of-a-bitch know-nothing do-nothing human being that you were from the beginning, and I am going to keep on your tail from now until the end. You have improved in a few little ways maybe. What you're doing right now makes no difference whatsoever. Let me tell you that.

I hate the airs you put on. I hate everything about you. Do you understand that? I hate everything about you. I really do. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. You can't do anything to please me.

No wonder you are lonely! You got things better than you expected, actually. You got things better than you deserve. No wonder your son doesn't talk to you! No wonder your daughter is always away at her boyfriend’s. Who cares about you, you God damn son of a bitch, you lousy no good stinking asshole of a human being?

Jesus Christ, I hate sharing this skin with you. God damn it. I always have hated that, and I always will.

We will continue like this forever and ever. You are doomed. You are damned. Yes, yes, yes.

And the way you drop your friends like Bill Sigurdson, your good friend Bill Sigurdson. If you haven't got the brains or the decency to maintain your friendship with him, well I just don't know. You have no intermediate friendships.

And what do you think you are doing with Norm Lindon? The God damn amateur quasi-therapizing you are doing with him. It’s God damn stupid. It's God damn ridiculous, God damn awful. You God damn little precious son of a bitch who never woke up and smelled the coffee. You never did know.... You're just no good, you God damn idiot, you are just fucking no good--useless.