Illusions. Pretend, this is
all just pretend! He must repeat this to himself while in the fetal
position.
In the end he understood. The
descent was so lovely. It is likely that we are all very lost. This
is a rather stark juxtaposition, is it not? Oh how he would rush to
secure that sacred spot. Sometimes so much time would pass by but if in
the end a smile could be provoked it did not matter. To be that ornament.
All planes of existence were at once open. The totality of so many
blissful sleepless nights and tortured words and Farris wheels. I have a
hypothetical question. That was your overture, yes? Nyssa, always
so much Nyssa.
I’ve been experimenting lately with
ancient alien mysticism. However I simply cannot recommend it for the
faint of heart. Actually, please do not try anything of the sort for it
may result in true heartache. Also, try not to read any books that have
the number 12 in the title. Charismatic critic Grace Randolph referred to
Batman V Superman at one point as a “bold piece of storytelling – The Shining
of the superhero genre.” She then added that everyone initially hated
that flick as well. I’m pretty sure that quote is attributable to her but
if I am wrong I apologize and I will proffer a swift retraction. I’m not
sure I agree with the statement but I’m also not sure that I don’t not
agree. i liked B v S though, I will never life. Or lie.
Gordian dip.
He was thinking about the water when
it came rushing back. There are so many triggers. He recalled the
last one as a black-and-white photograph. Back and forth, everything
returning. What is the name lingering on my lips? He is completely
separate from himself. I am separate from both of them. How
unusual. Yet I’m not sure I really feel anything for the trouble.
It hurts to travel back to that. Always father away. You must close
your eyes and really focus. That was the very end, right before
reality.
Constantly baffled by how awful it
all is. There is a tremendous lack of color. It feels good in a
way. As it becomes more difficult to fake anything. Been listening
to the first few Human League albums lately. And Trickfinger too!
That makes perfect sense though, doesn’t it? I definitely need to round
up a few more of those Kraftwerk albums. Brian Bolland’s art in that
particular one is mind shatteringly perfect…I don’t know how any adaptation
could ever….
I’m laying here right now and my arm
has recently been pulled out of its socket. It was a sudden flash of pain,
then nothing and brief dizziness before returning back to pain again.
Oddly, there was pain in my head as well. You were such a clear
image. Scolding but then welcoming there above me. Wearing a
dress. It was you, silly. It is you. It is you responsible.
The one you pulled my arm out of its socket. You asked polite but I
couldn’t and then you asked mean and laughed but I still couldn’t. so
then you laughed some more and punished me. it’s okay though, I was
asking for it. Oh, but this really does hurt though. Thank you for
wiping that tear from my eye. And now you offer a comforting smile and
your touch is gentle and your voice comforting. You tell me that you are
here now and everything is going to be okay. And then you fix me.
Will I watch the Search for Spock
tonight? I guess that’s anybody’s guess but I would probably say
no. maybe I’ll go consume raw sewage instead. That’s not an
indictment of that film however as I actually quite like that one. I
truly do love Trek though and that recent flick lit a literal fire under my
hirsute buttocks and metaphorically reignited my fandom. I desperately
need some counseling. Fetch me my crystal ball and we will dance beneath
floating ice pyramids! We are the ambassador to everything.
If you mean it. I suppose I
see my hand reaching into that small brain and twisting it and molding in such
corrupt ways. Still, I can not truly pinpoint this as the central
cause. My ideology and reasoning is far more selfish. He sometimes
imagines himself in the center of a large Italian plaza at sunset.
Beautiful couples all around, museums of old and wonderful paintings nearby,
and wine of course. And he is all alone and that is all and that is
everything. Sometimes he is inside a church and a choir is singing and
there is a skull on the ground and the skull covers several feet. He sits
in a pew near the front with his eyes closed. Outside, he is somewhere
awful but inside is inescapable. I sit with him and know myself one time.
Only time. Once more he is at a costume ball. This is black and red
with some grey in between. Tears. I don’t know anymore. Which
one of us said that? Do you remember, being asked if this is how you
thought it would all turn out, if there was nothing more? This can be
even deadlier.
You are our mother. You are my
mother. Where do these thoughts come from? I want to give in
entirely yet I am always held back by fear and uncertainty. Is this
something deceptive, corrupt? You are mother to all of us but I do not
fully understand this. This is kindness and mercy and warmth. On my
knees. If I could only know for sure what is right here. Would this
ever be allowed? Your hand on my shoulder. How long has he searched
for you? You were walking through the fields and there was a child in
your arms. You were everywhere at once, glowing through every passage in
the afternoon. Do you find joy in all things?
Damn it. I need to purchase
the recently released Criterion blu ray of Terrence Malick’s The New
World. What a gorgeous movie. Once I have money I will purchase
it. Then I will watch it. And then? Who knows! Maybe
I’ll put on a funny hat. Velia.
What happened to the days of
milkshakes and fries? All those diners we will never visit.
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