Monthly Archives: September 2018

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I’m just gonna leave this here…

Part one: Letter of Explanation- The Man who feels pain

I always thought of you. Never a day went by I did not whisper your name.
Then at sunrise I awoke to find you were really here, it seemed. Opening
My eyes, I found I was staring into your eyes as you lay facing me —
How could that be?

I thought you had died in the time I lost track. When you threw your hate at
Me with all manner of violent death imaginable, I though you were haunting
me. Consumed by the blaze of rage, and drenched in the cold sweat of fear,
I had to know —

Instead I ran in circles as a man on fire, with no one to tell him to stop, drop,
and roll — I was afraid to burn, have always been — although I had drilled
myself 1000 times, panic wiped it all away. Chased by a memory so
powerful, she took on a life of her own. No escape…

Without warning came a screeching halt — silence and a black curtain divided
my mind. I felt safe enough to release my breath. Appearing out of the
nowhere beyond this curtain the next day, you stood in front of me, smiling,
your hands folded in front of you — we were in the bone white, sanitized
room where the man who feels pain hides.

Leaping to his defense, I demanded you state your purpose and how you’d
come to find this place. See the sign? Trespassers executed on site! Simply
smiling, sadly and sweetly, slowly, sympathetically shaking your head —
Walking toward me, as I stood stricken, frozen and silenced, I let you move
in behind me —

Or should I say, I was powerless to stop you? I started to protest as you laid
your hands on my shoulders, but ceased as suddenly I felt weak — I sank
down into the chair and surrendered to your touch…

You found all the pressure and pain I’d trapped in firm knots, and like a
master pianist coaxing his keys to release the song, magickal fingers released
it all like so much biohazard spilled — the poison I was convinced I could not
live without…

I, and the man who feels pain began to merge in the center, but left with
separate outer crescents. It was like being jolted out of a nightmare, into a
reality, which was colder, and uglier, by far.

A volcano erupted from my very core, quaking through my body — brought
the tears like lava, exploding from my chest, and forcing me to my hands and
knees — all I had ever done to hurt you passed before me like visions from the
life of a dying man…

The sinking, wrenching feeling that stayed as the well dried up, I thought was
guilt — and I hated you for it, and for making me cry the tears I swore would
NEVER see the light of day…

I had to know if you were alive or dead, so I put my ear to the ground,
picked up the cadence of your step, and there you were…

The same Angelic Vision in bloodstained white, an Ethereal Beauty in full bloom…

Overcome, I desired to take the cord, crush your throat in its embrace, and
gather your limp body swathed in robes, in my arms to christen the killing
field, in another violet, sacrificial offering.

But he who walks in the timothy grass stood deaf, dumb, blind, and still in my way…
I fancied tearing him from the picture —

but the man who feels pain, when I sought his council as always, reminded
me of the time you killed. When I told you to pull the trigger, after I put the
weapon in your hand. He said while I watched the steady barrel, your hands
not shaking — he watched your eyes. He said you did not flinch, as you fired.
He said you did not close your eyes, though they were wet.

I told him seeing you stand behind him, knowing he touched you, and called you wife—
made my blood boil…

He simply smiled sadly at me, sweetly, sympathetically shaking his head, told
me, his point in telling this story was — you did not want to kill as I did, but
you would kill him, and me, without hesitation, and that is not what
We want…

So we plotted to turn you against him, better yet, to force him to do it
himself. Oh, and he far surpassed our expectations…

The man who feels pain told me, all the times you had killed me in our minds,
you talked to him. That he learned a lot about the inner workings of the
magick you used to paint yourself inside my mind — when I saw your face like
a reflection in my mind’s eye, you simply thought of me, effectively evoking
my spirit, as you looked at yourself…

I tried it then, and it worked, you saw me — but only in silhouette, in
inadequate lighting cast on shadows. Still — you saw me… All he had said,
all I had witnessed, my inner vision, was real and true, the currency I
had heretofore refused to deal in…

I know you want me to tell you how his feeling made me feel…

I riddled myself with doubts like buckshot. I revolted against you both,
taunting each in the ways that would hurt the most, tearing down what was
already crumbling…

I tricked two kindred spirits into telling me the name of the poison to kill them.

But they stood strong together, joined against me and began to dig at the evil
residing within, trying to defeat them.

My consumption, her, and him, my true self — they excavated the demons
churning like seas of maggots teaming in and over the Rotten Meat of
soulless flesh. He, my spirit, the keeper of my true name, was my only saving
grace, the day my soul was shamed by me, and flew from me. They mined it
all out like so much rock obscuring, and hoarding diamonds. With bare
hands bleeding and bruised, they sorted through it all, bit by bit. When he
came across knots, she undid them with nimble fingers. When she found a bomb,
he defused it. With each defense mechanism released, another band of demons
freed, and forced in a suit to tell their names…

With this knowledge, they raised the stakes of the suit and scattered the bad
spirits to the four winds. I had no choice but to reveal, one by one, the
deeds I had held close, refusing to be condemned — or redeemed —

But the worst of them, were cunning enough to lie, and — freed wholly — came
to stand with me at the entrance to the caverns now hollowed, defend the
exposed jewels within from scrutinizing gazes…

All the while, I lashed out, belittling my spirit, denouncing him as a weak,
useless coward — ungrateful, for all I had done on his behalf…
She, I terrorized, sowing the seeds of insanity. I tried to break her; make her
run — in panic, she would not watch her path, I hoped — she would fall down a
rabbithole…

There was something I did not know — they expected this course, had plotted
it themselves — they knew what I would do and it was just what they wanted.

Force the enemy’s hand, Right? Keep friends close; enemies closer. Fuck…

They wanted me to dance, just like a puppet on a string.
My circle led her to the entrance of the cave, because, certain of Victory, I
became enraptured in the dance itself, and mistook the cave I wished to
defend, for the rabbithole…

Now she is inside, with jeweler’s eye and notebook in hand —
appraising, recording each value as she presses on to see just how deep it goes…

I realize, too late now, I did not know what guilt was —
Until it bit me in the ass just recently. I know now, that the sinking feeling was
the emptiness that had always been. It was my own hands I tied, not hers,
when I arranged for the case to be closed and locked, thinking I could lurk in
the shadows, unseen.

I thought, so I went a little far — misjudged my opponent — but it was not too
late to pull it back together…

To call a time out, and regroup. Then, I could start the fight anew, armed
with my newfound knowledge, I could restructure my offensive stategy
accordingly. I could not stay away, but you did not have to know. It worked.
For awhile. But you were not through with me yet, you were still locked
tightly to my mind. You wanted the jewels — and you would not stop until you
held them in hand. On and on, you dug, exploring — now with the tools awarded
to perseverance.

The one dimensional view afforded by the encrusted walls could deceive you
— so you resolved to own them in the third dimension. There you could turn
them in your palms, out in the sunlight. Every facet of every stone would
reflect the true nature of its creation. You sought the truth as always, but
the staggering amount of time, and work you had invested increased your
momentum, until your extraordinary means justified a much greater end…

The nature of the jewels revealed to you, that just like yourself, I was capable
of evoking without ritual, unknowing and quite by accident, spirits of power…

When you cast the light on them, they were freed from bondage. Owing you
a debt of gratitude, they displayed for you the spectrum of their power —
and your own… As they mentored you, they came to love their kindred, as it
slowly emerged from your core. No longer was the bond one of obligation. It
became one of love and respect…

There was no limit to what they could, and now would, do for you —
unveiling the fourth dimension before the eye of your soul; told you upon
your readiness, they would open the door, and guide you through…

If what you desire is the world — then the world you shall have…

Smiling as you clapped your hands with the delight of a child; they then said
you must choose an escort — and you chose me…

I wanted to leap at your extended hand, then I looked down below and saw
the charred remnants of the bridge I had burned lying on the floor of the
ravine it had once crossed…

The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, and now there
was none. My Remorse for this deed took its shape in doubt. Doubt became
suspicion; it had to be a trick… In my confusion, the man who feels pain
was able to force the remaining boundaries between us and I finally became
the man who feels pain, and I am scared as hell…

I cannot do what you ask, without a sign from you — something tangible, here
in the physical world — and then I will come to you…

Euphemisms

I can’t remember why I chose not to post this here , but I came across it again today and changed my mind. In case you miss it, the point is that it is a message comprised almost entirely of euphemistic phrases and yet, it is still pretty harsh.

Euphemisms

I cannot begin to express to you,
Just how utterly, & completely it satisfies me,
To look into your eyes, & see that fearful gleam
Of awe like glycerin tears used in bad movies with
Chimps in lead roles, & lots of shaky camera work.
It seems to glaze over them like polyurethane on plastic;
Rather than pooling in the corners to slide down poorly made up faces.
You know, somewhat beside the point —
As are so many things about you…

Personally, I am a firm believer in altering routines,
Creature of habit though I may be.
I have found it truly is best to not be quite so predictable.
It is to your credit, & to your debt, however, that you have
Done as I asked, sort of, & made yourself less conspicuous —
merely because I threatened to take your photograph…
yes, it does surprise me, & it makes me suspicious as well.
Is it superstition, like that of ancestors when the technology
Was first introduced? Do you think, believe the snap & flash,
As it captures your likeness, will steal your soul as well?
It is to laugh!

I already have that in my possession, & I find it hard to believe
You remain ignorant of this fact.
Again, to your credit, & debt, is your use of a more convincing mask,
Upon my suggestion. However, I was being sarcastic, dear.
In any case, it is also beside the point.
Obviously, if I know it is a better mask, I also know it is you
Wearing it… I will say this much, Ed Wood had nothing on you.
Which is saying alot, as watching “Plan 9 from Outerspace”, was
The longest ninety minutes of my life… No doubt, whomever coined the phrase, ‘sticks & stones may

Break my bones, but words will never hurt me.’, merely believed
The hearer to have a terribly limited use of an already miniscule
Vocabulary. Yet, actions do speak louder than words, in your case.
In fact, I am going to go so far as to say ti speaks volumes.
Of complete gibberish. Like watching the news everyday, to find
It is the same old shit, & just a different day.
No noose is a good noose, eh? HEH.

As in, Exsqueeze me? Baking powder? Twat? I cunt hear you,
I h’ve got an ear infucktion, why don’t you come finger it out for me?
Blah Blah Blah…

Watching you, I can truly identify with the beloved characters of “Peanuts”,
When adults are speaking to them…

The silliest thing about it is — I really would like to believe you,
But you lie like a rug, & you say to me, you are stunned by my
Consistent, & unflinching ability to tell the truth. Well why not?
I have nothing to hide from anyone, & it requires no effort at all
To remember what is real. Your need for dishonesty, I must confess, is
A shoe I cannot fit, no matter how hard I may try. There is a danger in
Believing so much of your own stories, but I suspect you have at least
This much figured out, by now.

I truly tire of this game, I never was much of one for Role Playing Games.
Especially when the GM is a shifty eyed fool with the tendency to become
Easily sidetracked, waylaying the characters by getting one caught up in
Haggling with an elfen bartender. Something about a law proclaiming it is
A misdemeanor to let me drink from the bottle itself & not a shot glass,
Even though he knows I fully intend to consume the entire fifth. Who can
Fill a shot glass at that point? Do you know how many shots are in a fifth
Of J.D.? And what is with this business of conjuring some tree spirit, &
His beaten dead horse, from a burialground tangled with roots, to keep me awake
All night calling my name & nothing more? Beating a dead horse.
As in, ‘Quoth the Raven, Nevermore’. Is it because my rolls of the dice
In the beginning gave me so much more life & power, with plenty of weaponry?
You know I did not cheat by switching the dice, that is your favored trick, not mine.
It was as fair, & random as anything so structured can be.

I’ve got a mission objective to fulfill here, we all do. So stop holdin up
The train already, will you?

Stop telling me that you do not know anything, that you just work here —
If you are going to speak in code, at least let me in on the secret.
I am no codebreaker, it is not my area of expertise. What is? Oh —
Infiltration of the mind. What else?
I have thus far breached all of your walls, guards, unlocked most of the
Doors within, & am well on my way to your inner sanctum where you sit,
Wearing your jeweled crown of thorns, ruling a fallen kingdom of one…

Ho—hum, just the end of another unsent letter to YOU…
Ah well —, at least I am not wasting a stamp. It is highway robbery,
The amount of money required to send a letter through the U.S. mail,
These days, & can you believe I am actually writing this, on PAPER,
With a PEN?!
Anyway, you cannot squeeze blood from a bridge, &
It’s all water under the turnip…

Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley

I don’t think this tune can clear the top five, but it is definitely top ten. Not only is it incredibly soulful and beautiful, it conveys raw emotion in a way that modern media rarely does. The lyrics are sharp and bold, while the music molds itself around the narrative.

After choosing it for the group to sing, I was once asked by the guitar player what I liked about it and I do not remember what I said, but I do remember what she said —

I like it because he expresses the entire range of human emotion with that one word.

This was interesting because I once made the same statement, about the word ‘fuck’, in a piece about the word ‘fuck’.

The following quote is to me the most striking of all the lyrics —

And it’s not a cry that you hear at night. It’s not somebody who’s seen the light. It’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah.”

I suppose it’s because I got what I wanted, but it’s bittersweet because the target remained the same. after all he went through, and only the situation changed.

 

Hammock Camping

We found ourselves wanting to go camping when we were driving the local mountain roads, watching Pacific Crest Trail documentaries, and talking about playing Sky High disc golf course, in Wrightwood, California.

So we gathered supplies including camp soap, sporks, a cooking pot, sleeping pads and bags, portable chairs, a tent, and hammocks. Then we packed it all up one weekend and off we went!

Except we forgot the hammocks.

So the first time we could only use the tent, and it was still great. I slept wonderfully even though we were on the ground.

Then, the next time, I remembered to throw the hammocks in the car. We still set up the tent, but then we found a suitable tree configuration to hang the hammocks. It was the most comfortable night of sleep I have ever had.

I became a hammock convert for life. Not only was it ultra comfortable to be suspended and cradled in the silken hammock, but it was also soothing to gently rock as the hammock sways from side to side.

The last two times we did not even set up the tent.

The only real drawback can be not finding a site with suitable trees, but adjustable hammock straps, which can usually circumvent this issue, are for sale at Walmart

*Pictured at the top is our last hammock set up.