| and you force me to believe |
[30 Jun 2009|06:28pm] |
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countless eyes regard the triangle
he who loves as if to fade, returning to the glorious point
fleshed in acts of death and blossom spring
arteries calligraphed femoral bright light beacon blood concealed ecstasis golden skin
the flesh, the flower, the further math
revealed on this white mountain
dripping screes from all mankind, eroded cheeks and bear witness
to the miracle of your breathless canyons
yes you men heark unto the rock
eviscerated temple of the body mapped and mirrored your
ancestral
heights
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[13 Jun 2009|06:19pm] |
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I still had a few hours left before dinner. I decided to make the most of them. Because after dinner I drowse. I took off my coat and shoes, opened my trousers and got in between the sheets. It is lying down, in the warmth, in the gloom, that I best pierce the outer turmoil’s veil, discern my quarry, sense what course to follow, find peace in another’s ludicrous distress. Far from the world, its clamours, frenzies, bitterness and dingy light, I pass judgment on it and on those, like me, who are plunged in it beyond recall, and on him who has need of me to be delivered, who cannot deliver myself. All is dark, but with that simple darkness that follows like a balm upon the great dismemberings. From their places masses move, stark as laws. Masses of what? One does not ask. There somewhere man is too, vast conglomerate of all of natures kingdoms, as lonely and as bound. And in that block the prey is lodged and thinks himself a being apart. Anyone would serve. But I am paid to seek. I arrive, he comes away. His life has been nothing but a waiting for this, to see himself preferred, to fancy himself damned, blessed, to fancy himself an everyman, above all others. Warmth, gloom, smells of my bed, such is the effect they sometimes have on me. I get up, go out, and everything is changed. The blood drains from my head, the noise of things bursting, merging, avoiding one another, assails me on all sides, my eyes search in vain for two things alike, each pinpoint of skin screams a different message, I drown in the spray of phenomena. It is at the mercy of these sensations, which happily I know to be illusory, that I have to live and work. It is thanks to them I find myself a meaning. So he whom a sudden pain awakes. He stiffens, ceases to breathe, waits, says, It’s a bad dream, or, It’s a touch of neuralgia, breathes again, sleeps again, still trembling. And yet it is not unpleasant, before setting to work, to steep oneself again in this slow and massive world, where all things move with the ponderous sullenness of oxen, patiently through immemorial ways, and where of course no investigation would be possible.
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| operant |
[05 Jun 2009|05:04pm] |
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Functionally what these psychedelics do is they dissolve cultural conditioning. Cultural conditioning is like software, but beneath the software is the hardware of brain and organism and by dissolving the cultural conditioning to speak English, German, Swahili or whatever, then one returns to this ur-sprach, this primal language of the animal body and can explore the real dimension of feeling that culture has a tendency to cut us off from. Culture replaces authentic feeling with words. As an example of this, imagine an infant lying in its cradle, and the window is open, and into the room comes something, marvelous, mysterious, glittering, shedding light of many colors, movement, sound, a tranformative hierophany of integrated perception and the child is enthralled and then the mother comes into the room and she says to the child, "that's a bird, baby, that's a bird," instantly the complex wave of the angel peacock irridescent transformative mystery is collapsed, into the word. All mystery is gone, the child learns this is a bird, this is a bird, and by the time we're five or six years old all the mystery of reality has been carefully tiled over with words. This is a bird, this is a house, this is the sky, and we seal ourselves in within a linguistic shell of disempowered perception, and what the psychedelics do is they burst apart this cultural envelope of confinement and return us really to the legacy and birthright of the organism.
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| hymn to the allfather |
[21 Apr 2009|01:47pm] |
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o white light, o white heat o life-bringer, o blood-drinker o hideous king, the heat of your perpetual awakening crowned you in a mystic haze. pour your knowing into me dissolve my skull in ultraviolet flood me with your molten spirit- ecstatic gilded voices harmonizing with the heat- consume me, watch me cry myself to ash let my spirit spark and cinder in the sun, let my body burn and sink into the mud.
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[10 Apr 2009|03:25am] |
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It's a good thing to say things out loud, or at least approximate saying things out loud. Words are full of magic, after all. Talking is very close to praying. Delineation leads to ecstasy, if an architect is articulate, expand your being into space, become real as a Bone or an Orange.
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[15 Mar 2009|05:04am] |
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….and the violets bloom in synapse, radiant petals bursting forth from the spinal chord and into the cavernous skull, arranged delicately in symmetrical rows rotating like fragrant cogs in an organic machine, the sweet breath murmurs and rooted they erode the gray red yellow brown lotus brain, it’s true, the mind is like a flower floating in a river, it’s true…
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[02 May 2008|12:30pm] |
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WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE! what is there to do? it seems like the world is a terribly empty place.
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| worst dream ive ever had |
[18 Feb 2008|07:47pm] |
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music |
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angels of light |
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This girl I knew a long time ago had rented an entire park out for her birthday. It was dusk. Groups of people were walking around, talking and laughing, and they all seemed to know exactly what they were doing and where they were going, as if someone had given them instructions beforehand. As for myself, I didn’t have the slightest clue, only knowing that it was her birthday and I was supposed to be there. Since I didn’t know where to go I ended up just wandering around, totally lost among the silent roads. There were lots of policemen standing next to yellow tape who eyed me suspiciously. The park got darker and darker, and there were all these huge trees who bent and groaned in the howling wind, which was cold and whipped my face. I began to feel terribly confused and alone, and followed a group of laughing people in the hopes that they would lead me to where I was supposed to be. They kept glancing back at me and chuckling, which filled me with shame. I regretted not bringing friends.
After a long walk I found myself inside a huge auditorium filled with thousands of people, some of whom I knew from high school. It was totally dark except for the stage, and all the faces on the other side of the auditorium where blurred, just rows upon rows of faceless heads forming a long smear in the glare of light emanating from the stage. The birthday girl was on stage covered in makeup and wearing a glamorous blue dress, with a brilliant and vapid smile on her face, and everyone was clapping. I remembered a bizarre sexual encounter I had had with her a few years prior. Strange that I should be at her birthday when I hadn't thought of her for years. “Love Will Tear Us Apart” was playing really loudly. I decided to leave, because things were getting too strange to bear, and made my way back to a hotel room.
The room was totally bare except for a television, and when I looked at it, the whole screen took up my dream-vision. There was a story being shown on the news about pregnant women who’s fetuses had contracted some horrible disease that made them eat their way out of the womb. The only cure was a surgical procedure that left them with nothing but ribcages, covered in flesh, attached to the spinal column and the top half of their head. They had no lower jaw, only flesh-colored insect pincers which clicked continually and flickered around looking for food, something like a crab. The ribcage-women were attached to invasive, brutal contraptions which kept them alive and force-fed them with segmented, remote-controlled arms, and immediately after they ate the machines would place large plastic bins in front of their faces, and they would vomit, vomit forth huge quantities of a sludgy white mass while tears streamed down their cheeks, mixing with the sludge, coughing and choking and clicking. Since they couldn’t wash themselves and no one wanted to touch them, the machines would put them into a big black rubber dishwashing belt, the kind they have in college cafeterias. The most vivid image I have of the dream is the women bouncing around the black rubber hell being sprayed by pressure hoses, ribcages and pincers, white vomit running down into gutters beneath the line, their hair wet and matted, their eyes filled with pain and fear. An anonymous news reporter with an indescribable voice interviewed one of the women, who said plaintively that she would have rather died than undergone the surgery or ever gotten pregnant in the first place with the abomination in her belly, except that she was almost unable to speak without a lower jaw, retching and clicking and finally getting her words out in a low moan that was only frustration and despair. I woke up covered in sweat.
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[22 Jan 2008|10:13pm] |
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i will deliver thee from bondage. will you?
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[03 Nov 2007|03:47am] |
what a good, succesful month its been. seems like everything happened simultaneously, and, i managed to pull off several smooth moves in a row emerging with a deeper understanding of myself. i did my first amateur fight on the 6th.i found out about it a week before and ran like a motherfucker for a week, then lost ten pounds in a day because i was under the impression i would be fighting a guy smaller than me. turns out, he didnt show up, and neither did the guys from my gym who were supposed to be cornering me. i guess they didnt like me as much as i thought they did, and i was marooned there in the midst of all these power rednecks, wearing a shirt with upside down crosses on it. what a terrifying thing! sitting alone about to get in a ring with a guy to try and pummel eachother in front of a few hundred bloodthirsty lunatics, long gone into their 10th beer. a promoter ended up approaching me and saying that my guy wasnt showing up, but that he had another guy that was willing to do an exhibition match. the problem was, he weighed 265 pounds, about 80 pounds heavier than me. not only am i marooned, but im pitted against a leviathan! i accepted, though, in the hopes that it would be an edifying experience.
when we got in there, it was like i couldnt hear anything, in a hyperfocused little bubble, just me and this dude.everything seemed like ten times as sharp, and i was so jittery and nervous and about to throw up and everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. then, when the bell rang, i just went into a zone. A ZONE.
as cheesy as it sounds, i felt like a sniper, explosive and graceful. it was really cool. like i got to know that guy so well. how bizarre! pretty weird to think that that was actually me, like at one point in time i was doing that and i was in that space, and now, i can re-examine that moment in my existence with a kind of omniscience.
the many and sundry facets of my life. personal development has been a theme to this time.i met many obstacles and transcended them, met many people and connected with them, truly learned. ive been reading lots of books and finishing lots of things. maturing is so unsettling. im not even sure why im making an update; nothing really needs to be said. besides "music is a kingdom". maybe accomplishments deserve monuments, but its not like i talk to any of the people im friends with on here anyway. just recording it in the overwhelming vastness of the internet. here i was! either way, i love everybody. i feel so full of things to share. ive been smoking too much weed and need something to click me off of it, but, it just always happens to be there. just feels as if i need a little more intensity in my life anyway, yet, i feel a startling equilibrium, not subject to the hideous curse of a man who loves too much, but not drifting into massive nothing.a "man". is that where were headed? is that how it'll end up? how natural, how correct. im still really paranoid, but i accept that as part of who i am. in any case, im alive and its turning out famously.
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[07 Sep 2007|01:32am] |
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the other day i was driving to work and listening to ravel's "lever do jour", a song that sounds like a disney movie about the daily activities of a cherub. i can very specifically picture the little fellow, who's human name is probably pronounced gabriel, waking up and immediately taking flight through the clouds and fluttering through sunrays, moisture and wind gusts on wide transparent wings, safe in his perfect knowledge of god's golden love, a rapturous, benevolent, divine being admiring creation every morning, all to the strings of this song. it had been raining really hard, to the point where i could only see clearly about twenty feet forward.lightning would turn the whole street dazzlingly bright for a split second, freeze-framing the raindrops in sharp relief, and the thunder was incredibly loud. the song climaxed, and right when it did so a bolt of lightning struck a light pole about thirty feet away from me. the whole thing lit up on fire, and a weird, luminescent ball shone brilliantly for about five seconds, crackling blindingly bright like the eye of ra, except somehow purer. strangely enough there was no thunderclap, just the entire street lit in an eerie white glow, exactly at the second that a heavenly choir blasted through my speakers. it was a funny experience. i wonder what it would be like to be struck by lightning. i would probably be really energized for a few hours, and then start to forget who i am and what im doing because all the neurotransmitters in my brain have been short-circuited by the sudden burst of energy.not like i need any more confusion about those things anyway. it would all be worth it, though, if i could shoot lightning out of my hands. another day besides that one, i was floating down the itchituknee river on mushrooms with some of my friends. its spring water, so it was really cold, and there where hundreds of fat rednecks floating down along with us, and it began raining, pouring, torrenting down on us, and it was good. the raindrops made millions of little diamonds on the water surface, and i was totally lost in the beauty of it all when lightning began to flash there, too, right next to the river. there were all these huge powerlines right on the bank that no one seemed to be noticing except for us, which seemed so dangerous that it was hysterically funny. in fact, i would venture to say more people where made uncomfortable by our maniacal laughter than by the terrifying natural death energy destroying trees a few hundred feet from their yellow inner-tubes. then when we got to the end, a fat little boy convinced me to give him my own inner-tube. truthfully, it was a bizarre experience. when we got back to the house, i called my mother, and she told me in vague telepathy that the house had been struck by lightning that day. maybe thor is sending me a message, and it reads, "I am."
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[06 Feb 2007|01:17am] |
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im a pretty paradoxical fellow. i have hair on my knuckles and a boyish smile, intelligent but unaware, have no self esteem but a bold gaze, paranoid and suspicious(and right) yet forgiving to a fault.full of dreams yet unforgiving in my reality, i constantly am laughing heartily at my own, solemn, inevitable doom.
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| i-kah-ros |
[09 Dec 2006|09:48pm] |
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when i was little i used to daydream in class about something horrifying happening, like a gang of robbers taking my class hostage and having a protracted negotiation with the police for some outrageous ransom. they would commit various atrocities, disrespecting the teacher and forcefully kissing the hot girls,guffawing grotesquely while smoking cigarettes all the while. i would hide beneath a desk or in a closet, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, and then attacking savagely with all the jackie chan destruction my 7 year old body could muster. the thugs would submit to my punitive superiority, pleading with me, begging for mercy. with a steely glint in my eye i would forgive them in the name of christ, and stoically refuse the advances of the class babes, who had fallen hoplelessly in love with their stone-faced savior. heroic. seems like its getting harder to be a hero nowadays. i always considered my commitment to doing the right thing, the unselfish thing, the self-sacrificing martyrdom thing to be one of my more beautiful attributes, and that quality seems to be a sinking ship. nobility always hurts, but necessity can simply kill. ive turned into this callous fucker with a head full of acid and pockets full of stolen shit. my intuitive ability to find myself in the right has dimmed and now i am emerging, perpetually detached, perpetually mechanical and much too judgemental.im stronger now. much stronger. my tendons are steel wire, my bones a dense and coarse structural phenomenon who can take the impact of any car crash with nary a gasp of surprise,my jaw square and firm as my fathers. i dont like the man i am becoming, and i miss the boy that appears when im on drugs or in your arms. the truth is, ive been caught up. caught up in stupid jobs and pointless endeavours, in money and in my own incompetence. feels like i dont have too much of myself to give, an emotional poverty. something that starves the only person that really matters. i keep on telling myself that i will get better, eventually start doing good in this life. pulling off that perfect day, setting up a symmetrical row of dominoes to watch them cascade gracefully in a mesmerizing pattern, some beautiful becoming as a direct result of my kinetic energy. right now im just breaking plates with these heavy-ass bones. the only thing i can really do with my hands is punch. its a sobering feeling when you are the bad guy.
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[05 Sep 2006|09:41pm] |
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i got in a car crash and suddenly, i found myself in the real world.
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| so i'm moving |
[04 Aug 2006|01:02am] |
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to gainesville tomorrow. hang ten, coral springs!
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[09 May 2006|07:59pm] |
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ive got an 8 oclock curfew for the next 6 weeks
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[17 Apr 2006|08:50pm] |
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spring break has been fulfilling, if a little depressing.
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| paranoid orwellian fantasies? |
[10 Mar 2006|08:54pm] |
Three 05 Statuz: i showed up 2 school one day wit a room full of cops and my paretns and on the dest stakced in frunt of me was 3 pages of myspace convos and 2 pics of me throwin blood signs at partys
Lobos9800: holy SHIT
Lobos9800: myspace conversations? like private messages?
Three 05 Statuz: and get this.. the weird part is.. my homeboi was the ONLY kid 2 have the pics.. and they were on "my documents" on his computer
Three 05 Statuz: ya mna
Three 05 Statuz: cops are all over myspace
im never sending nudes again
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