God in a supercollider

I am shivering. I have no reason to shiver. I am not cold. I am not happy. Nothing. No reasons. There is a wind tunnel pain cave, racing all around me – a pit? I am falling? I am falling. It is whistling all around me in with the music of terror, and I want it to end, and I am hoping for a floor to maybe brave enough to rise up to meet me. I could spend forever in this tunnel to where? To nowhere. I want it to be somewhere. I want to coming crashing up against something SOMETHING, even if it means my death, all my bones pulverized to dust dissolved in the meat and blood of my body. I want to be somewhere, not whistling like like a bullet in space. I am falling into blackness. I stretch out my hands, and try to touch something that is not wind, but it is all wind. I claw at the downward spiral. There is nothing but downwardness, nothing but the spiral. Rise up floor and crush me. Crush me already. Rise up you floor. Could I land safely? Could I float? Could I reach out and steady myself? I would tumble like a bouncing meatball if I could find the walls to the thing. I am moving too fast. I have no bearings. This is a womb of darkness. I might disintegrate, before the the the used up molecules of my body ever touch anything. There is no screaming to be done or heard. It makes only a noise inside my head. Like my own voice were jacked into nothing but my brain, and no one, not the darkness nor the whistling wind can hear it, and I can not speak out into it, vomit myself into it, force any sound into it to get my bearings. There is no echo, no report. DESTROY me something, please. I am shivering. I am ready to explode.

Explode into a thousand stars into a thousand million snowflakes

I can destroy. I can take this emptiness with me. Destroy destroy destroy destroy . destroy the nothing. To destroy nothing is to create. To eliminate the nothing, the without meaning…destroy the meaningless to create meaning.divide to the right and the left. Here and there. Heaven and hell. There must be two ness, there must be a something and its opposite for there to be anything at all. I am something, because there is nothing around me. I am SOMETHING. Destroy me something please? No. I will not destroy me.

This is revelation to me. I am something. Because of the nothing, I am something. Because I am something, I have beaten nothing. By being, I cheat death. At least I know at least I know at least I know I’m here. I’m something, somewhere, and that gives me power over something..if nothing else, then over myself, and if over a self then over nothing. I am not nothing. I am not nothing. If there is a ground that rises up to meet me, there will be three things, and things crashing up against each other is how we know they are there. How we can see that they’ve existed. I will have existed. To have existed once is to exist for all time. In the memory of eternity. To have ever existed is to always exist. If the ground does rise to meet me, if I die, I will have been. I was. Yes, once, I was.

I steretch out. I have muscles, and I move them. I have thoughts that move too. There is dark and whistling wind the vastness of chaos and void, but I am not it. I am not nothing, thank God. I may be falling I may have no bearings. But I am here. There is this, there is a speck of me left, at least, in the vastness of chaos and void. That is enough to anchor in, is it not? When there is no other thing outside you, there is you. That is where I start. That is where I will end. All the thoughts I have are mine. All the senses I have are mine. What I see is . what I am seeing is what I see. What I hear is what I hear. I am responsible. I am powerful in them. I contain them. I may be able to use them. Couldn’t i? could n’t I use them? Could I not create? What will I create? The rising ground ? no, no not yet. I can create. I am responsible for what I see. I am responsible for what I hear. Make something to see. Make something to hear. The void is not all powerful. It pushes in, but you have not been destroyed. Push back. See something. See what? Hear something. Hear what? The void can only exist if you exist. If there is not something, there can be no nothing. Create more something. Power. Create. You have power. You are responsible. Only a deslusion? Only an hallucination? An illusion? No, it has been created. It is, in own instance, real. In the instance of now, in the incarnation of you. Imagine, and it can be. You ARE. You are able. You are able to do, to see, to create. You are responsible. Those senses are wired back to YOU. That urge, wired back to YOU. You are a piece of positive puzzle, a positied thing in the negative space of the void. Posit posit posit posit. You are the big bang. You are big, if you wish to be. Now, bang. BANG

And whatever it was, it was good.

its hard to read this and not think...

...that Arthur C. Clarke hadn't read it as well...

"Deeply embedded in the heart of some ancient forest, we find here and there a massive and hoary boulder, its antiquity far exceeding that of the venerable trees, and its whole appearance telling of a distant soil and a by-gone day. As we sit upon the granite block, with the branches waving high above our heads, our wonder at its presence is deepened by the quiet scene. For countless ages that great stone has lain motionless, lifeless, changeless, amid all the infinite movement of changing life around it. No human power brought that huge mass where it lies; no eye can trace the path along which it was driven by the forces of nature. And not until we have traced the mighty variations and convulsions which in the recesses of time our whole globe has undergone, not until we have looked back far beyond the earliest seed-time of the forest, to the days when the surrounding country for hundreds of miles formed the bottom of an immense ocean, through which the icebergs bore the huge rocks torn from its frozen shores, can we understand the position of that primeval stone.

"Something of a similar character may not unfrequently be discerned in regard to the religious belief and worship of a nation, when a tradition or custom survives the convulsions and changes of the centuries, and remains firmly embedded in the national life, though every trace of significance is long buried in the past. Most superstitions, it is probable, had once an intelligible meaning, even if that meaning were founded on a mistaken belief..."

-- from sacred-texts.com, The House of the Hidden Places, by W. Marsham Adams

a Monster in Maine, a Beast in le Gevaudan

Mysterious animal found dead in Maine. people are claiming it is the legendary creature that has been terrorizing housepets and various other fauna in the area for the last 15 years. Experts don't really know what it is; one of the more reasonable theories is that it is some kind of rare breed of wolf/wild dog hybrid. Makes sense to me. here is another look:

Apparently, this thing was hit by a car while chasing a cat. If this is the creature of Maine legend, it is also rumored to have gone up against dobermans and rottwielers and come out on top. there have been various recorded sightings of the monster, a few of them describing how demonic and frightening the creature was to encounter. It took a few minutes but then I realized that the above image was reminding me of this next one:

This is a bad copy of a drawing of the Beast of le Gevaudan, a legendary wolf-like creature that plagued the 16th century French town from which the creature got its namesake. if you flip the picture vertically and then horizontally, you'll see what i mean. here is another depiction of the Beast of le Gevaudan:
you can't really tell from this reproduction of the picture, but the beast is standing amidst human body parts which put its scale just between enormous and elephantine. aside from the size exaggeration, it looks very much like the Mystery Beast of Maine. (key: look at the tail, and the shape of the head.)
of course these aren't anatomically perfect drawings -- their proportions are a little bit distorted -- but they do contain elements that are rather similar to the photographs above.

conclusion: maybe there is more to the creatures of legend than we previously thought.

the slippery slope

"I did not desire communications from friends or relatives, or information about earthly things; I wished to learn something about the spirit-world"

-- J.B. Newbrough


depression, isolation, psychosis, revelation.

no one in particular

sometimes, i'm afraid i will never love anything anyone again. the way a boy does. the way i did when i was a boy, when her face, from fifty feet away, made me smile, when i dreamt about her hair. were i reflected in her eye, under the perfect arch of her eyebrows, the whole world could shake and shatter to rubble, and i would laugh as it fell around me. she had that power.

i don't love anyone like that anymore. there is no such goddess.

today, i am something of a man, and a skeptical lover. my heart does not choke itself for a woman. could i ever really take so much pleasure from one woman, and how she smiled, and how she smelled and how she looked ever again? no...that was false, that was not true love. that was only illusion, and unfettered emotion, and the lie of romance.

i know that.

but God, it was passionate. i don't ever want to be with someone i couldn't love like that for the rest of my life. now, i am something of a man, and i don't know if its possible. is it too high a standard? too low? what is true love? how do you do it, or have it? what in the hell does it look like?

.....1, for the body.....

........2, for the soul........

....3, for the secret that's gonna make me feel whole.....

no one understands what its like
to be perforated down the middle
do i have inside me my twin brother, re-absorbed, born in me?
did i ever have a twin brother?

to the north, all of my mother stretches from inside of me
while all of my father reaches for southwardness...
and ever i am marching towards the west...toward fate and failure...

what comes up, after the sun goes down?

i don't need medicine

There are some days that you just can’t get up. You are awake, more or less – well, you can’t go back to sleep anyway, but you’re awake, and you lay there. Its worse when there are other people in the house, walking around, opening and closing doors, running the water, flushing the toilet, walking circuits around the apartment, around your bedroom door, until they march, slam, shuck-click the door and drive away into their day. Its especially bad when people are there, but even when they’re gone, you want to wake up and walk around in the space that stretches just to the edge of other people -- a world that is just short everyone else and comfortably so. It would be so easy to let the day go, let the world slide by, let the sun drift away without being intruded upon, without being imposed upon.

Some people would say that I need medicine for this. I want to disagree with them, but I know that if I do, it will only serve to make them seem right. I want to disagree and argue, and throw things across the room, and smear shit on the walls and draw blood and scream until my face explodes. But then they will only be right, and I do my best only to disagree and argue, and, when worse comes to worst, throw things only halfway across the room.

I don’t need medicine. I am difficult. I am selfish, and I’m lazy, and I’m frustrated because I haven’t yet figured out who I am and what in the world I am supposed to be doing. Everything in my head is trying to claw its way out of my skull, and everything in my spirit is trying to break out of wherever it is spirits are kept – beating, bulging heart, lungs, chest, between the ribs, the marrow of arm and leg bones, glowing with spirit attempting escape like light through an x-ray. I don’t need medicine.

medicine shouldn’t make me want to get up: my days should be better than they are, my life should be better than it is. I should be looking forward to days of full of…something. I don’t know. It should all be better than this. It should make more sense. I shouldn’t be living in the basement, like some bastard son of my parents. Medicine won’t make my life better. This is a displacement of soul and no drug can fix it. It must fix itself – I must fix it. But I am the first to admit, I don’t know how. Medicine is not the answer. 200 grams of wellbutrin a day won’t straighten my life out; won’t get me work, won’t make me like you, won’t make me do the dishes, won’t make me come home to my basement room, trampled by the clamor of my parent’s clumsy feet and help me think that everything is fine, because I’ll secretly know that it isn’t. and if it can make me think everything is fine when it isn’t, why should anyone want me to take it? Why would I ever want to do that to myself, ingest a lie in pill form?
I don’t need medicine.

Not to get up. Not to face the world. Its just that some days, you have strong days – you can have strong days for weeks at a time. And some days you have weak days, and life really is that bad, and there really is no reason to get up in the morning while the inconsiderate world keeps turning. Sometimes you get fired, you get kicked out of your house; you get kicked in the stomach, and what else can you do but stay down?

You stay down. Under the covers. Under your roof. In your pajamas and unshowered. You face the world in the next round. Pills will fix this? No. pills will "fix" me. But only I can fix me. Someday, I will be all right. I will be close to ‘there,’ and it won’t be because of pills. I will have repaved the path of my life; it will one day be less crushed. Pills will take away any chance I have for a future of my own.

How is there a drug for this? I’ll tell you how…someone said, "start getting them to take pills, and I don’t care how you do it. Tell them they’re sick, and once they believe they are, give them pills to make them better. Cram them full of medicine, and get them used to it so that when we tell them that 100% of the population should be on pills, we can slip them anything we want, to make them do anything we want, and finally, we will have control of the masses – the mob will be at our beck and call, the masses will be our army. They will be our tank and we will steer them with pills. And then we will rule the world. "

Are you willing to hand over the world so easily?
Granted, this world sucks. But no one will take my piece of it away…not with force, not with pills. No one will take away my covers, my bedroom, my late morning, my skipped class, my pajamas, my unshaven, unshowered head. That is all mine.
Try to take it from me.
You and your army.
I dare you.

I will disagree. I will argue. I will throw things across the room, and smear shit on the walls and draw blood and scream until my face explodes.
I don’t need pills.