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| november 2006 |
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| Prophecy | 1:30am monday, 27th november |
It all comes together like a rushing of the four winds to a pinnacle. We, caught in the updraft of the coalescing airs can only brace ourselves for when the raging forces know some strange certainty, that which we cannot deny nor explain. Thus is the sound of prophecy alighting on the land: more elemental than the storm, throttling through the heart of those who stand in the face of the world machine. This is what can be imagined of infinity, all that we, the images of love itself, may apprehend of the vasty light above. It comes in words, it comes in riddles, it comes in rhythms that unease us. Though who is to say how it will affect any of all whom they strike? One thinks some would be dumbstruck in holy know, some disturbed beyond the extents of earthly concern. And then there would be the unbeliever, in whom there is no miracle, who smile and think they understand: how foolish are we to put our trust in a higher. But who knows? Even these may choose a side, unknowing the part they play in the grand destiny.
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| in the dream | 12:56am thursday, 23rd november |
there in the dream i wandered on and on, a thousand years
fire could not touch me, and rain poured down in oceanfuls, oceanfuls
there, there in the dream: i was home for a moment, then nowhere
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| Stelazine Past | 1:12am sunday, 19th november |
I remember back before I was on Zyprexa, there was a stint with the drug Stelazine. (Plus the Cogentin to reduce side effects of the S.) The main thing about being on such an ancient medication, I recall, was that there was a simple pleasure that was unavailable to me, or at least, one which afforded much difficulty to enjoy: I could not read. I mean, yes, street signs or such, or the casual newspaper headline was not illegible by any means, but I found that I could not sit still for more than a page or two, then it was as if my insides were crawling, and I could not sustain any more literary intake. It was rather horrible, to someone like me who enjoyed the word as much as I did, and still do. The Zyprexa is much better on that account, though I do sometimes wonder if even that has some bearing on my capacity to ingest the written word.
I remember that one day, when I was being cared for by my aunt in Korea, and while she was away to America for a while, that I decided to quit my medication. And it was primarily so that I could read. I remember after having been off it for a week, that I curled up with the Vonnegut classic, The Sirens of Titan, for like periods of five hours at a time, engulfing the volume in a flash. I remember what utter joy it was that this pleasure could be had again; truly, we do not know what we have until it is stripped of us. I remember I had trouble sleeping, though, and my appetite decreased, but such was little to pay for what I got in return. Man does not live by bread alone, indeed. The elders eventually found out, and put me back on the regimen of S, but stolen moments such as this — it makes me almost feel noble in it. Who is to say what is the best of us?
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| troubled | 12:02am wednesday, 15th november |
within me i am swallowed: my love to explode
my dreams are troubled, like i were a miser in heat
(what is the taste of her soul when i regard her?
what does the music feel when it drives through me?)
ashes waft through my mind to make me remember
days that went nowhere managed to go by anyway
considering the ant, and how stupidly productive it is
(when did we start to glory in our indifference?
when in the course of our intent exactly do we sin?)
i have wondered too long, life walked on without me
within me i am swallowed: my love to explode
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| Appropriate | 4:10am saturday, 11th november |
It's called Trees in the Asylum Garden by Vincent van Gogh. 
Click on this to get a larger version. He was doing some very good work at this stage in his painting.
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| i am | 12:10am tuesday, 7th november |
i am shook from the sky, fire from the stars
i am death that lives, the outline of a world
i am thought unthought, on the brink of myself
i am hurtling straight up, breaking the atmosphere
i am light in form, a shoulder of illumination
i am a vast, unclaimed forest at the edge of nowhere
i am wind that remembers, distance that knows
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| Thus | 3:35am friday, 3rd november |
Little in my mind did I suffer like that: you know, complete loss, complete heartache: I have never had any of that kind of thing. I have never been completely hopeless, even in the darkest of the darkest hour; I cannot comprehend what it is like to be completely lost — to man and God, to touch and sight. You, out there: I’ll wager even when your heart broke, there was some one, some thing, that you could fall back on, and not was it the case that only shards of glass broke your fall. I remember what someone once said about what we complain about: and what I fain complain about, life must be pretty swell. We’ve had it easy, n’est-ce pas? Let us consider it: not all in the world have it like us. And it is a gift to know it when life is good — have you thought that lately? Be thankful to the deity of your choosing, even if it’s just to thank the nameless stars. Because it may be that it could be better, but oh, my, could it be worse.
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