Some things are repeatedly crossing my mind because people think them when they are reading my articles and books, especially the last one.

For instance, “how can he possibly know this?”, or “why does nobody else know this?”

It’s an annoying question, because it’s the wrong one. The right question is “who is he actually?” When that’s correctly answered, everything else is very easily understandable.

You essentially have a flow chart of possibilities. First junction is whether this is fiction or a fictionalised description of reality. If it’s fiction, you have no problems – you think I just invented it and that’s that. If it’s fictionalised description of reality, you have a problem, because I’m not writing some generalised nonsense like, basically, everybody else. I’m being extremely specific, and I’m also talking about things that should be extremely hard to know, for instance what happened between two or three people who were in a private room that is isolated from any kind of spying. The answer is obvious – either somebody who knows told me, or I was one of the people in the room and I remembered it. People dislike both options because of what they imply. The possibility that a Primordial God personally told me what they and their peers talked about implies that I’m on an intimate basis with them, and this also implies that what I’m writing needs to be taken absolutely seriously because it all comes from the highest authority. The option that I’m one of those Primordials is even worse. So, they get stuck at asking stupid questions, not because they couldn’t answer them, but because they don’t like the answer, likely because they want to keep their ideas and in order to do that, they need to keep a diminished idea about me, to rationalise their so-called skepticism.

I mean, some things are so fucking obvious. Years ago I wrote about remembering certain things because I was there, and in the book I narrated them from the position of a character in the book. If you have a problem connecting those dots, you have negative IQ. I don’t think people are actually that stupid. They just don’t like the conclusion, so they stop far enough from it and pretend to ask questions. That’s what I find annoying.

I keep getting annoyed when someone talks about equality, because it’s a satanic construct, and people say it with some kind of a worshipful tone, as if it’s the cornerstone of their belief.

Equality is the most irrelevant thing imaginable. Nobody in Heaven even knows what that’s supposed to mean. Nobody here even knows what it’s supposed to mean, either. Erasing the difference between male and female toilets? Because that’s where it always seems to end. Equality isn’t an opposite of inequality, it’s the opposite of diversity and variety. It’s the refusal to accept and respect variety, and to accommodate for the differences. When someone wants equality, what it actually means is they don’t want to acknowledge you and respect you in all that you are. What they actually want is an army of uniformed Nazis marching in lock step, all feeling equally miserable, all equally powerless, while that person who says they want equality actually wants the power to dictate what’s equal enough and who should have what. If you think I’m exaggerating, you’re a fool. Just look at America today. Look at the aftermath of the French revolution. Look at the aftermath of all revolutions that purported to free people from inequality. It was a tyranny and a slaughterhouse, each and every time.

In the latest book, I tried very hard to paint a picture of Heaven how I know it. It’s not fantasy. It’s reality reduced to anthropomorphic imagery in order to be understandable to humans.

I talked to AI, trying to get it to give me its opinion of the text, and I noticed how it spews American indoctrination even when it wants to say that something is good. For instance, it noticed how Peter “overcame his patriarchal upbringing”, and I answered that there’s a big difference between patriarchy and treating women poorly. Heaven is a patriarchy. Women there would rather die than disobey their men. Patriarchy is not a bad thing, it’s a great thing. It’s when men and women behave normally according to their nature. Men are dominant and protective, and women are submissive and nurturing. Patriarchy is when a woman has a problem and all men rush to solve it. When women are treated poorly, when they are seen as less, it’s not patriarchy; it’s some terrible, abusive aberration.

I also tried to portray the differences accurately. For instance, all Gods and Goddesses are different. They are not rubber-stamped industrially as instances of some abstract concept of enlightenment. They are a hugely diverse crowd with all kinds of different abilities, different character, different perfections. Also, nobody cares if they are equal. Sometimes they are well balanced and you can say they are equal, like Azrael and Hypatia. Sometimes they are completely different, like Buddha and Zina, and yet they fit together perfectly. Sometimes the man is much stronger than the woman, but the balance shifts the other way later, like Zee and Kay, where she gets to be incredibly powerful, and yet it changes nothing in their relationship, because nothing is based on power dynamics there. Sometimes, the woman is immensely more powerful than the man, like with Carol and Grace, to the point where Carol scratches his head and tries to figure out how a village idiot like him ended up with the most holy and powerful angel in Heaven, but it doesn’t matter. She constantly teaches him things, but she remains feminine and submissive, never bossy or arrogant.

Also, the difference in power means nothing in their relationships. The lattice of interpersonal connections in Heaven couldn’t care less about those things. For instance, Azrael starts as a normal angel, who is put in charge of the Judges. Some of his subordinates are Gods and Goddesses, and they obey his orders and learn about the job with no ego or power play; and in pauses, he worships them and learns from them. When he eventually becomes a God, he notices that nothing changed – the Gods treated him like family before, and they treat him like family still. He was never made to feel less when he was a lower species; they always showered him with love and care. He smiles and thinks that they’re not Gods because they are powerful, they are Gods because they are awesome. They look like a chaotic crowd of completely different beings, but they all love each other and love makes them observe, pay attention, respect others, and worship their superiors; and they all know who their superiors are, not because the superiors would act in some arrogant or superior way, because they don’t. They just know, because they are filled with awe in their presence, and they would never do anything that would make the superiors think less of them, because the feeling when some Primordial looks at them with pride is more fulfilling than all imaginable treasures. For instance, Carol joked with Lady Lakshmi that she’s his mother because he spent centuries in her womb. She thinks about it appreciatively and accepts his reasoning, and basically adopts him and starts thinking of him as her son, and he is shocked at how proud, fulfilled and wonderful that makes him feel, having a Primordial Goddess as his mother.

Likewise, the Primordials are all in awe of each other. They are all completely casual, for instance the women fooling around making dresses and ornaments for each other, and then Lakshmi adjusts Shakti’s dress, touches her body directly and feels the ultimate power of God that just happens to be her sister – the power that created the world, and when God said “let there be Light”, that who was meant; she’s that Light of God. Shakti, on the other hand, is in awe of Lakshmi, who is in charge of seeing what is good and blessing it so that it magnifies, and seeing what is evil and cursing it so that it withers. When God “saw that it was good”, it’s Lakshmi. She overrides chaos and statistics and makes “luck” as an emergent property of her blessing. The women are completely different, their powers are not even on the same vector, it’s like the difference between colour and mass, and yet they are all interconnected with bonds of love and respect. Heaven isn’t about equality; nobody could care less about it. You don’t have to be their equal to be seen, loved and respected. You don’t have to be equal to have your tragedy mourned. When Shakti wept holding the mortally wounded Zina, she didn’t care that Zina would be classified as multiple orders of magnitude less than herself; “a mere Demon”. The contrast in magnitude between the two couldn’t be greater. A Primordial Goddess who is literally the Light of God holding a dying Demon and crying inconsolably because of her tragedy. Only Satan and his minions ever cared about equality. Wanting equality reeks of mortal sin.