Episode Zero Presents: Wiseman’s Monologue

Braden M. Rohl performs Wiseman’s Monologue from The Little Demons Inside (Eudaimonia book 1).

About Braden:

The Little Demons Inside is available on Amazon in ebook, paperback, & audiobook versions.

Tarot deck available at The Game Crafter.


I’ve been contributing art prints and merch to my Redbubble shop for a few years now. The visuals works had previously been my method of digital mixed media. That is, a work beginning life on canvas and oil paint, photographed and finished in ClipStudio Paint.

The categories were:

The Internetsocial critiqueA+
Sadness CollectionAnxiety & PTSD & MedsB-
The Seekers’ TarotTarot deck imagesA
EudaimoniaDerived from the novelsC-
Witchy ShitOccultB+
shop collections

I have now added Photography, but it hasn’t been graded yet.

night sweats

Night sweats, intense dreams, body aches. No, I don’t have Covid. I have anxiety and arthritis and these new symptoms are super unpleasant.

In the absence of having anything to say about anything, here is some unedited, untagged dialogue I wrote for no reason, unattached to any project.

“When you said you had the money, that was a lie. Right?”
“And when you said you didn’t know where Lanny was, that was also a lie.”
“Yes, but..”
“No buts. Why are you coming clean now? What more are you keeping from us?”
“That’s all. I didn’t kill her. I don’t even know anything else about it. I didn’t mention the money because I needed the money. I felt bad about it so I brought it back.”
“Ok. Here’s the thing, you can swallow this pill and then try to answer with a little more truthfulness, or we can inject you with that big ass needle and get the same results. I’m indifferent. Are you?”
“I’m cooperating. You don’t have to do that.”
“Last chance for you to make a choice.”
“Fine. I’ll take the fucking pill.”
She took the pill. They waited.
“Ok, should be taking effect now. Is your name Janet Delubak?”
“Are you 31 years old?”
“What happened to LaNell, Lanny, Thompson?”
“The old gods are returning. Long have they slept at relativistic speed in an arc though the galaxy and now they return. Woe. Woe. Woe. The events of the last century of man are here.”
“What the fuck is this shit?”
“Did you give her too much?”

We all “waste time.” Try to recycle it.

Talk & Talk

People talk and talk and talk. My silences offend them.

Micah_Chaim 11/23/2020

I dowse it out. I sense for my emotions in the dark. I find no words. Only shapes.

What doesn’t get a vote in my emotional wellbeing anymore:

  • The disappointment of others in me
  • The projections of others onto me
  • The demands for my attention leveraged on the guilt from the above
  • Externalities of any sort, I reject you

This is a start. Time to write.


My personal mythology is something I left behind with you.

In university, I was often told to unpack my concepts and I did. For you, I tried another approach. I performed a magic trick. Yet, it was easily forgotten. The jokes stopped and you stopped.

A strange bleeding reality among competing realities makes its way in a storm of time. Unpacked, I showed you in Eudaimonia and in The Seekers’ Tarot, that what you see is only part of the picture. A real among reels of reals. I showed you a path through the void. I showed you alternative mythology. Did you follow? How far did you get?

Words and images and my little acts of power.

New Abaddon

My appeal to you is my mythology. I need you to spread my works to your friends, lovers, and enemies. Send them to me. Find me again. Lure me out of this New Abaddon. Resolve my personal myth.

With love,