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| march 2005 |
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| Hello | 8:38am monday, 28th march |
There is nothing outside, though I have often thought
otherwise, that another existence peeked through,
every now and again, and I had glimpsed an extraordinary
nexus between worlds, or between this world and the next,
or between what is seen and what is unseen. But finally,
I understood that what is hidden stays hidden, and
only what you and me agree is there is there. Alone,
I have stood as a juggernaut serving as a conduit between
astral planes, but the immensity of me was not so much
when someone just sat down with me, and said hello.
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| Phases | 10:58am thursday, 24th march |
I spent my twenties, I recall, insane and finishing college. Not that the two have anything to do with one another, but you may draw your own conclusions. After that, there had been such a lack of my having done anything substantial with my life, I felt this desperate need to produce — somehow, it did not register that actually graduating college was any sort of accomplishment. But it was a good thing, I think; before the madness, I had spent 5 years getting stoned and whacking off; better that I saw less of my achievements than think grandly of little ones few and far between. And that lasted about 6 years, maybe 7.... And now — I have something like peace. A pace. Patience. I will get done what I will get done, and perhaps it will be something great. I don’t know what causes such a transition, from desperation to acceptance; perhaps it was God remembering a prayer from long ago, which I myself have forgotten, when I must have wished for repose I had never believed could be mine. “Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed.”
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| Flickers | 5:10am sunday, 20th march |
There is fire in this every moment, to ignite you;
some, however, are consumed by the instantaneous flickers:
we are lost to the passion that goes furiously nowhere.
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| Footnote | 12:24pm wednesday, 16th march |
I remember thinking, way back as a senior in high school, what I wanted out of life. I am a bit amazed by my humility at that time, for I believed that my greatest achievement would be as a footnote in some student’s research paper sometime after I were dead and gone. This was well before my madness, of course. Then I remember in college, as I was really drugging it up, that my aspirations climbed the stratosphere — I wanted to be the savior of all the world, and nothing less — and then in my madness, to possess powers beyond reckoning, to bring about EUTOPIA for all the universe.
When I was recovering from beyond the edge, my desire became simply to be normal again. Nothing fancy. Just to do better than be continuously hanging on by a thread. And then, since having recovered (more or less), I have thought briefly at times that I would create something revolutionary, become something like the next Einstein; and now... and now, it seems I my desire has come full circle. I don’t think I want that kind of cataclysmic fame. Perhaps I knew, way back then, what was the best for me: remembered, useful, a footnote in history that makes some sort of point somewhere....
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| Hopeless Hope | 11:29am saturday, 12th march |
What it is that breathes
upon the embers in my heart?
Can it burn like it once did,
those years ago, when
I was glad to stand in the pouring rain
just so I could get a glimpse
of her? And who was she?
There have been a few who were
the only one, and how I
wrote poetry of the ways I loved,
and about the unrequited that I was.
Some of their names
still send me floating into daydream,
even these years later,
when I have seen nothing of them
in so very long. How close
I have been to giving up, too, that I should
settle on the next one
who gives me the time of day,
but every time, like this time,
Cupid sends wafting my way
the scent of true love, a hint
that I should yet believe.
I have said it more than once, that I will not
be taken merely by the
wearing down of the years,
but how persistent is time, and I have
felt as if my stony defenses
were eroded away, and again.
But today, I think I can
put it poetically: I looked up
and God winked at me.
Hope. There is always hope.
Even being how truly hopeless I am.
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| Journeying | 11:37am tuesday, 8th march |
So, no. I have not achieved that “great thing” I had thought I was close to reaching. But I find I am not disappointed; I am rather more relieved than anything else. And really, when I had felt myself on such a brink, I was scared, plain and simple. It is that now, I find myself really enjoying the journey there, because I understand a little of what it might mean were I to reach some grand goal. I am still young enough to be like this (or perhaps it never goes away) that I am happier with the less of responsibility. I would rather be of lighter consequence. I delight that I cannot move heaven and earth, that thunder does not follow my steps. Because it would be real this time, not some delusion of grandeur: that terrified me. Oh, it still may happen some time in the future, but I am quite content to leave it in that nebulous space. This journey is quite the trip, indeed, worth the price of admission by itself.
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| Numbers | 1:08pm friday, 4th march |
These numbers, any of the numbers that pop up during the day — they still have energy to them. Not quite as much power as they once did, back in the heyday of my madness, but I find myself still uncomfortable when the odd “666” comes up. And too, “777” is an omen of beneficence, no matter what else is happening around me. I know, and have ever known, very little of numerology, but that did not stop me from making my own meanings to numbers back when — 1991, I’m pretty sure it was, right when I had just snapped. I went from 0 to 11, and I don’t remember what all of them were, but some I still keep around in my head, still ascribe some meager meaning when they appear: 1 for God, 3 for love, 8 for infinity, 9 for reality. And then there are other ones I have since picked up: 4 for death (it’s an Asian form of 13), 18 for life (based, I believe, on Kabbalah), 26 for the name of God (again, Kabbalah), 62 for the apocalypse (not quite sure how that one happened — or should I say, long story), 11 for (variously) the two witnesses of the apocalypse or to the nth degree or luck (a second “7”), and 33 for freedom or victory or "great things" (from the age of our Lord when resurrected).
Then, there’s 15. That has an interesting history, of having gone from a sign of woe to a sigil of weal. When I was 17, 18 or so, I read Tarot. I was taught by a really cool teacher I had in high school. So, anyway, 15 of the major arcana is the card of the Devil. So, during my original, peak madness, 15 I associated with that card, so, it was a bad thing. Then, a few years ago, I discovered that 15 had a quite different meaning in (again) Kabbalah. It’s another number for God, from the shortened “Yah” instead of the full “Yahweh” (which is 26, above). So, I began associating 15 with “Yah”, and I turned it around. That number is now a good thing. But anyway, let’s just say that the numbers still “glow” to me. I would rather they not, that they be as they once did, 6 not be bad, 7 not heavenly. But you take the good with the bad. It’s not so terrible. You will, however, notice that of all these entries, almost none end with a timestamp that ends in 6. Yep. That’s on purpose.
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