Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Chop Wood

That’s right, I’m back mother fuckers! You thought I would just go quietly into the night, subdued by an ooey gooey green dose of night time cold medicine to bring me dreams of monsters and immigrant gang bangings in the garbage facility behind the top secret key code lock at the back of the ferry building? Sure I maybe dallied there, took a good long look at the dark recesses of my being, down at the tangled roots connecting me to all the collective muck, and sure I bared a yellow toothed grin of delight at such a dark and disturbing sight. Certainly I slipped right on down there to fuck the tin man only later to discover that he had incinerated the robotic maid his mother had left in charge to cook for him. That’s how we met you know, he liked to go out disguised as a regular human, except he was very tall and lean with an unusually long shapely nose, and he’d sell strange robes with all sorts of esoteric designs on them. I stopped to inspect the robes, then after one look at this very strange character I knew,
‘Oooh I want to have that, whatever it is, up inside of me and see how it feels!’.
So I sent away my familiars, a giant iguana named Astheron and a sweet little yellow and orange corn snake called Lixus or Ixux or Xixus depending on my mood. A very convenient trick that, when I want them I just extract them from the fabric of illusion that surrounds us holding us suspended in its sugary sweet web so that we can creep along its cables from one desire to another, in avoidance of a battalion of fears, from this great stuff I pluck my pets Astheron and Xixus, right out of the code of life, because at some point you see, everything can be traced back to a strand of lovely reptilian DNA, and when I don’t want to be seen with such telling company, I just store them right back in that matrix of Maya.
So with my pets safely stored, I stroll up to the gangly long haired disfigured object of my desire and communicate my enthusiasm for getting to know him (this hidden aspect of myself) a little better. He’s tremblingly enthusiastic and whisks me off to his place. I’m not at all surprised to discover that his living quarters are hidden behind the tiled bathroom wall of some unsuspecting strangers who come in to bathe and shit and sometimes even to masturbate with their faces twisted into the most disgusting grimace of agony verging on pleasure, never suspecting that behind their own grimy shower wall a timid and yet calculatingly diabolical tin man is tentatively exploring the female anatomy of his new found cohort. Ah! At last his overwhelming loneliness has come to an end! Here is a companion to sit with him in their narrow space between walls and look out over the golden sunset from a bay window seat and peel the leathery crimson flesh off of pomegranates, and with her he needn’t disguise himself as a man, he can be just a mechanical boy. She is curious and accepting of his true nature and they idle away years in which she pulls him into herself and listens close with her ear to his hollow chest to see if he has a heart beat, cold steel in hot flesh, one intoxicated by that alien warmth, the other by that mysterious cold.
So yes, I went down into the gear works of my psyche and traced out some of the primal pattern, the eternal labyrinth that I can call myself. I met with some of the deep symbols, some of the keys that I will store on my ring of power and tuck away into the folds of my rain flecked wool robe. I will tell you the solid gritty truth, I can not really walk the pattern yet, I am not so noble born. I can hold only three or four chambers of reality at once before I betray myself and the structure comes crumbling down. There are still fears that torment me and master me, beating me into submission causing me to grovel on the electrified web, wishing to wriggle away to a place that I can control. So I must keep diving into the dark depths in search of new alliances, practicing the principles of the dragon born until I can finally embody them consistently. I don’t know what will happen if I succeed. Perhaps you would get your wish and never hear from me again. But as the saying goes,
"before endarkenment write 600 words and post to blog,
after endarkenment write 600 words and post to blog."
I suspect that you will hear much more from me. I have yet plenty of black secrets to vomit up and lay at your feet. Therefore, bring on the green goo and the demonic voices of the deep! I am ready.

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