Satan Wants Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

telling me things that I was aware of already. It then occurred to me, not for the first time that Felton and everybody I knew might be projections of my mind – as it were, the creations of my waking dream. I was thinking this when I ran into Robert Drapers on the bus on my way to St Joseph’s in the morning. He still affects a beatnik-black, roll-neck pullover and sandals without any socks. His hands were shaking and he was looking pretty seedy. Since I was feeling loaded, I bought him a late breakfast. He was in London for an interview at the School of Oriental African Studies where he hopes to do research on Islamic history. Also he is hustling for somewhere to live next year. He passed me a tin of shema – mouth tobacco – which he had scored in Algeria. The silver tin with its sinister oriental writing looks really pretty. But I did not think that shema and breakfast would be a good mix.
    Robert asked after Sally. I think he fancies her, but he has always been too shy to tell her. Also he asked after Michael and then he wanted to know about my research and, when I told him, he said that he thought that there could be serious problems with it and that there were dangers in my methodology. Also I told him about my becoming a probationer in the Black Book Lodge. He could not understand why I should want to do such a thing and I admit that I found it difficult to explain. However, roughly what I believe is this. I am nothing until I have committed myself to something. Until now I have been just window-shopping through life. My commitment to whatever it may be has to be total. Not only that, it has to be irrational. One cannot just shop around for an ideology. One has to embrace it totally. Only through complete commitment can one ever understand a thing. One is never more alive than when one is leaping off a cliff. But Robert said that I had got it all wrong and that one is definitely dead when one leaps off a cliff. That was him being wilfully obtuse simply in order to win the argument.
    He is a pretty irritating character. I told him about my latest theory that he and everybody I knew were bits of me which I had hived off in order to inhabit the cosmos which in truth consisted only of me. Robert looked at me with a big smile on his stupid face.
    ‘Oh, well done Peter!’ he said and taking my hand he shook it warmly.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘You have sussed it out at last! I was wondering how long it would take you. Yes, I and Sally and everybody else are just bits of your thoughts. We don’t exist when you are not thinking about us.’
    He was just doing this to freak me out, I think. However, he was most emphatic about it. The reason everybody I know talks and thinks the same way as me is that they are me. One of the reasons Robert is depressed is this business of when I am not thinking about him, him not existing. He said that it is horrible flickering in and out of being. The fucker! It is one of his freaky paranoia-gambits. I have known him pull this kind of mind-fucking game before.
    ‘You could make me do more interesting things you know,’ he said. ‘I would welcome that.’
    ‘You are just saying all this to hang me up.’
    ‘So you say. But actually, if you want to, you can make me say that I am not a projection of your mind.’
    ‘I want you to say that you are not a projection of my mind.’
    He shrugged,
    ‘OK, I’m not a projection of your mind, but I’m only saying that I am not because I am.’
    (FUCK!)
    As he prepared to leave, he looked back at me solemnly. ‘Please think of me as much as possible. I really enjoy being one of your thoughts.’
    ‘When shall I see you again?’
    ‘When you next feel the need to see me.’
    Anyway, then Robert had to go off and register at Senate House and I went on to my school and sat on the wall of the playground and watched the little children playing, feeling like a sexual pervert as I did so. From time to time, one of the little creatures would