| |
| june 2005 |
|
| The Horror | 7:10am tuesday, 28th june |
I have thought that I have glimpsed the unseen horror behind it all. Although I have never read the works of H. P. Lovecraft, I think I know the gist behind his type of horror tale — because I have seen a little of it, in my madness. It involves Cthulhu, which was not the most powerful of the elder gods in Lovecraft’s stories, but probably the most famous of them. Anyway, in my madness, I awoke him. (“It” is actually probably a more correct appellation, but most people use “him”.) Those stories are about how in secret corners of the world, that there is madness, a horror, on an unimaginable scale. That there were once elder gods who were the worst sort of unholy evil, beyond any reckoning of what that might mean to we mere mortals, and that just to catch one brief sight of them is to become insane. So the story goes. I was insane, anyway, at the time, so I guess it didn’t matter so much for me.
In any event, it happened just so: I was in Korea, back in 1994, staying at my aunt’s house. I was still smoking cigarettes at the time, so I was in their garage, smoking. And I don’t know who it was of the ones floating around in my head that triggered it, but I heard the sound as of a gate opening, and it was as if the veil of reality were lifting. And I remember staring at a plain, orange bicycle, and as the veil, as of the reality was uncovered what was below it, I saw the frame begin to twist out tentacles of flame, flame burning with unholy pain: the head of Cthulhu; everything around me began to unravel in hideous convulsing horror. But just for a moment, thank God in His mercy. Just as soon as it started, it stopped, and everything was back to normal. But it was an experience I will not forget — ever.
I wonder now, if Lovecraft had anything like that in mind. If some people’s imagination was that good, that they could envisage such things. Something in me could, at any rate, for my eyes beheld the unholy. Such is in the reaches madness, I think — a glimpse of the darkness.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (7) so far. |
|
| Night Falls 2 | 4:37am friday, 24th june |
Night falls, and soon, dreaming shall come, airy, overtaking the solid things.
Night falls, when the monsters lurk in the unknown corners, awakened by moonlight.
Night falls, and stars will fall, for the heights are not easy to keep as company.
Night falls, friend to the mysterious, those who will not meet your eyes in hours of day.
Night falls, and no fiction can capture all that is strange in the real netherworld there.
Night falls, hope to keep against the odds, tiny flames to stand against all winds.
Night falls, and I cannot tell friend from foe from any distance at all; neither can they.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (7) so far. |
|
| Daydream | 5:42am monday, 20th june |
I daydream about it: the Theories of Attraction solved for two bodies in motion, inevitable progressions of fate leading to a nexus of actualization: liftoff, and I do not even have to leave my seat. I imagine that even were I to see the hand of fate before my very eyes, I would still be blind to its workings, so it must be that I will be disarmed, and talk about it as much as I will, it will be nothing like I imagine. I wonder why I am so hopeful, for there in my past like stars in the sky are all the miniature tragedies — all I know of love — that twinkle to me that they are all I will ever know, wait for the next to join them. But I keep the dream stringed to a perfect tune, a song not yet written hinting it will be born into my soul, the stuff of popcorn movies, in one word: magic. O how many the time I almost settled for less, but the dream is too strong to die under this mortal’s hand or failings, a distant oasis that I keep in sight as I wander through this desert life.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (3) so far. |
|
| Parallax | 5:54am thursday, 16th june |
I am a movement captured by an ephemeral form:
always seeking flight, but also rest and refuge in gravity:
meaning everything and nothing in every word I say.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (11) so far. |
|
| I Choose Yes | 4:47am sunday, 12th june |
I am usually good at giving messages of hope, here. I know I haven’t been doing it lately; I have been down. And lately, I have been feeling worse than I have in quite some time — but let’s see what I can pull out of my bag of tricks. Let’s see if I can find the hope, anyway. It is strange that I was feeling so good when I was alone, researching my computer science, and that it was just a matter of time when I would reach something of earth shattering importance. But when my brother came and visited me, he asked if I planned to be alone all of my life, and that rang a bell. So I have been trying to go out more, lately. I have been hanging out with a friend of my brother’s, and that’s where part of this depression comes from, that he’s been just blowing me off as of late. Yesterday he didn’t even call back — though that’s usually with an excuse why I shouldn’t come out anyway. That’s part of it. Another part is that I have been feeling so very alone, now that I have a basis for comparison. When I was by myself, with no such basis, I didn’t much think of things in those terms. But being a little less alone makes me feel it all the more.
The last part struck me yesterday, as part of a dream that spilled over into waking life. It was the Antichrist psychosis again, and I don’t know where it came from. Like my brain decided to kick me when I was down. I’m currently in its shadow, and the story goes that I was made into the Antichrist back in 1991 (here), and I am only allowed to be a good guy until the fateful day when Satan is to take over — that my soul has been sold, and it is only a matter of time before it is collected. That’s the gist, at any rate — the story is more complex than I care to get into. And so, strike three — I feel like crap. So, what am I going to do? The question, I find, is quite easy to answer: I am to go on with my life. There may be hurt in my heart, but there are things to do. Too long I have already postponed life just so I could sort things out. And they never did, really, get sorted by way of me sitting there and obsessing about them. That usually only made things worse. I know enough that the suffering will pass, because it always does, and good times have followed. Life goes on, whether I choose to join in it or not... and I choose yes. Simple.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (22) so far. |
|
| Two Sides | 3:42am wednesday, 8th june |
I have imagined at times
that it was just business
involved in all of my pain,
merely that the numbers
worked out that way, and
that I was merely on the
short end of the calculation.
But I do not know. Which
is to be preferred, a universe
that has something personal
against all that you are,
or one that cares not at all,
and randomly smites you?
Perhaps when one sees it
one way, he prefers, naturally,
the opposite: what a horror
it is when the conspiracy
is all around you, and
even the breath you breathe
is a plot of the enemy.
But how is it worse than
a lifetime of suffering
merely because just someone
pulled the wrong lever,
completely innocent,
and you just happened
to be in the wrong place,
at just the wrong time?
The first is madness,
but the second, I think,
would drive you there.
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (12) so far. |
|
| Regrets | 4:07am saturday, 4th june |
They are all still there, all my old regrets, every place where I failed. I need only shake the tree of memory, and they tumble down. If I think on them, it is sometimes like they have just happened, that it was just hours ago when I forgot to do something or did something wrong, whether it was on purpose or if it was just an accidental blunder. They seem all out of proportion too, how I still feel about them, for the wrongdoings that were the most horrible to the general moral eye hurt me not so much as some where the mistake was just an unfortunate slip of the mind. We may reap what we sow, but do not expect the crop to be the same size as the seeds we planted, I guess the message would be. Time, it would seem, does not heal everything. Or are these not wounds, at all? Lessons, perhaps? That I forget not these my errors that they be fresh on my mind at all times, lest I commit them again? Except they hit me at the strangest times, when I am sitting quietly, at peace with everything....
|
| » comment on this entry | read comments, (3) so far. |
|
| ^ Top of Page | |
|
