The Problems of the World's Most Famous Writer

Does anyone know why he stopped writing? Once, people used to wait for his new book, and today they've already forgotten who he is. It's a shame, he could have developed into one of the great writers of modern Hebrew literature. He had tremendous talent. He used to be my favorite author, but since then I've forgotten what he wrote. And people are gossiping about him

If Only Sex Were the Problem: The Victory of Opinion Pieces over the Sin of Knowledge  (Source)

I dreamed that people were asking: Does anyone know what happened to God? He hasn't given us a new religion in a long time. He hasn't even published a prophecy in the newspaper - he used to have a column every Saturday. Does anyone know why he stopped writing? Once, people used to wait for his new book, and today they've already forgotten who he is. It's a shame, he could have developed into one of the great writers of modern Hebrew literature. He had tremendous talent. He used to be my favorite author, but since then I've forgotten what he wrote.

And people are gossiping about him and saying all sorts of things: He's developed dementia. Or: The Divine Presence [Shechina] betrayed him, and since then the muse hasn't visited him. Or: They say he has writer's block because he can't cope with "what's happening today," with the modern world. Or: Even then, he was always a bit monotonous, so it's no wonder he ran out of ideas. I argued even back then that in his last few works, he was already recycling. The truth is, he was never really an original writer (a slanderous wink to those who know grace and worship Baal [Translator's note: Biblical reference to false gods]). He's not one of the great writers, just someone who happened to have one bestseller. Yes, he was once considered a leading writer, or at least in the leading group, or at least a rising force, but he's not one of those who will be etched in eternity. Today his writing is outdated. His Hebrew isn't flexible, who can read that. It needs to be translated into Hebrew already. And so on. It just keeps deteriorating, and in the end, only academics start to take an interest in him, and he's mentioned one last time in the newspaper as someone who's been forgotten, and then comes the final forgetting. The infinite one. The great darkness.

And God sits in heaven, surrounded by infinite scrolls, and laments: For years I wrote things that people aren't interested in reading. Because what interests them seems like nonsense to me. And it's not even the content - it's the problems. The problems that bothered them seemed like stupid nonsense to me, and those that bothered me seemed critical. Current. Interesting. And so a thousand years passed. But then I finally got tired of having no readers, and I thought I needed to learn to write interestingly. And I set out on a journey to understand: What do people want?

And the serpent philosophizes: That's the question of questions! That spiritual beings like us will never understand. That no researcher has managed to decipher. What does man want?

And God plays the victim: At first, I thought I needed to wean myself off. To stop the nonsense I was writing in quantities, to treat it like an addiction, and then I could make room for the world. But I quickly realized that it's not just me with my Torah, but that people don't read books anymore at all. Even the New Testament, the Quran, the Tao Te Ching, or other true bestsellers - no one reads. And people only buy to put on the shelf, for show. And in any case, it's not simple to write bestsellers like Jesus and Muhammad. I could invest years in it and again end up with an esoteric mystical text that will lie on my site and no one will open. And anyway, religions are on the decline, so it's fighting against the direction of history, and I'm tired of that. So what does interest people?

And the serpent jumps in: Sex?

And God says: We need to learn from the newspaper. Because the newspaper is built according to what interests them. And what turns out to interest them?

And the serpent whispers: Sex?

And God exclaims: If only, my Satan, if only that's what interested them! Because that's still interesting. I have something to write about sex!

And the serpent twists: So what does interest people?

And God thunders: Current events! Current events - that's what interests them - the most boring thing in the world. The lowest level. The lowest common denominator between so many people - is zero. And even God can't truly divide by zero, so they aspire to zero. Things that are from moment to moment, so far from my aspiration for infinity. But for lack of choice, what do you think I did?

And the serpent gets excited: Sex?

And God gets angry: Where, what feminist Divine Presence is there today, that doesn't give me any. Not interested in me, but in Bibi [Translator's note: Nickname for Benjamin Netanyahu]... But as a writer, I tried to develop into writing like in the newspaper, and opened a competitor to the newspaper. But what did I discover?

The serpent winks: That you failed in this direction too?

And God is excited: Worse than that, I succeeded! That the more I write like in the newspaper - people are really interested, and it's a shame that it interests me less and less. The shorter the spiritual range of the text - the more readers I have. I measured it using analytics, and the correlation is perfectly inverse. But to really be interested in writing current events - your consciousness needs to be a consciousness of current events, and that's already an unbearable price of false consciousness. You need to really be interested in Bibi, God forbid! And here I already gave up, I threw in the towel. It's too much to become a God of nonsense. And so, in a circle, I returned to the zero point, where the world and I are not interested in the same thing. And again there's no connection between God and the world. People don't dream about God, and God doesn't dream about people. The world is simply not for me.

And the serpent says: So create another world?

And God says: What do you think I'm doing?