Tuesday, June 29, 2010
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God does not accord to perfection. On the contrary, whatever god is, is by definition perfect. God is the original standard, the first frame of reference.
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Faces Comprising a crowd: Ugly, Horrible, mean-spirited, crude, dumb, repulsive. Half-conscious pigs at the trough. One’s got to wonder where God is in all of this.
But the Grotesque does not exist objectively. Only my perception of the world exists. That is where the Shit and rabble finds itself. The world is just what it is, no more and no less –without value judgments. The grotesque belongs to me, to my own mind.
But the Grotesque does not exist objectively. Only my perception of the world exists. That is where the Shit and rabble finds itself. The world is just what it is, no more and no less –without value judgments. The grotesque belongs to me, to my own mind.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
You were wrong
The crusade has been in motion for years. Blown out speakers and loud tires on the highway. No map, no compass. Every minute is stressed to the breaking point with super-conscious anxiety. You have been trying to find the ultimate reality. You threw a hateful ultimatum at the gods and demanded an answer.
In search of the ultimate reality you wore yourself out on weird trips, misguided efforts. slept in graveyards, chased sunsets over distant hills, etc. You dragged the muck up out of the unconscious depth and then you gasped with horror and vomited when you looked at it. You did strange things even you can’t explain. You did morally questionable things. You told me you would take this as far as possible, as far as the human mind can grasp. But there was one danger you refused to consider: that your entire quest was completely and totally misguided.
So you suffered appropriately and for a long time.
But tonight something is going change. Tonight you will walk into a bedroom and find her there, having fallen asleep with her clothes on. You will pause for a moment and appreciate the scene. Standing there in the middle of the room in total silence, it will become very clear that she is the meaning. The meaning was not to be found in sacred or philosophical texts, not in temples or in an ambitious future, or in a dramatic confrontation with the void. It will be there with you in her room tonight. And it will seem impossibly simple.
In the morning you will begin to suspect that the meaning of existence is not a thing to be intellectually discovered, or sought out at all. It is not to be forced out from behind the curtain at gunpoint. Instead, you find that it was with you all along, inherent to the experience of being alive. It was sitting quietly with you while you were racking you brains for the answers to these riddles.
The meaning of existence cannot be forced out of hiding. But in time it will gently reveal itself to you.
In search of the ultimate reality you wore yourself out on weird trips, misguided efforts. slept in graveyards, chased sunsets over distant hills, etc. You dragged the muck up out of the unconscious depth and then you gasped with horror and vomited when you looked at it. You did strange things even you can’t explain. You did morally questionable things. You told me you would take this as far as possible, as far as the human mind can grasp. But there was one danger you refused to consider: that your entire quest was completely and totally misguided.
So you suffered appropriately and for a long time.
But tonight something is going change. Tonight you will walk into a bedroom and find her there, having fallen asleep with her clothes on. You will pause for a moment and appreciate the scene. Standing there in the middle of the room in total silence, it will become very clear that she is the meaning. The meaning was not to be found in sacred or philosophical texts, not in temples or in an ambitious future, or in a dramatic confrontation with the void. It will be there with you in her room tonight. And it will seem impossibly simple.
In the morning you will begin to suspect that the meaning of existence is not a thing to be intellectually discovered, or sought out at all. It is not to be forced out from behind the curtain at gunpoint. Instead, you find that it was with you all along, inherent to the experience of being alive. It was sitting quietly with you while you were racking you brains for the answers to these riddles.
The meaning of existence cannot be forced out of hiding. But in time it will gently reveal itself to you.
Monday, April 19, 2010
With Saturn in Hell
I want to tell you about yesterday morning’s dream. It was an especially bad one. In the dream I am with several people. They are members of the mystery religion of Saturn. They are making batches of a drug and they claim it will make the person who takes it “See with the eyes of Saturn.” I understand that it is a mind-altering drug that changes reality. I have come to take the drug, but after seeing it made I am not sure if I ought to. They mix the gritty paste in filthy shallow tin basins. It’s made out of some sort of dusty coarse grit mixed with human urine, then left to ferment until it forms a lumpy soggy mush of rotten piss. Now I am trying to decide if I can really go through with it. I want to but I’m afraid of eating the nasty drug substance. I ask someone what the experience of seeing with the eyes of Saturn is like, and he tells me, “Actually, I find it to be very unpleasant. The time I did it I wished I could get out of it.” This increases my worries. I am also aware that there is a doctor present. I ask him if there are any health risks to eating this filthy rotten paste, but he won’t give me a straight answer about it. He does not seem to know.
I notice that Saturn is actually here with us. He appears as an enormous roach with long brittle paper-thin wings. He sits perched upright on a rail, almost like an owl or large bird on a perch. He is black and slimy. The most remarkable thing about him is his antenna. They squirm and writhe all over themselves like greasy snakes. I look into Saturn’s ancient insect face. It sounds ridiculous, even Kafkaesque, but the emotion of the dream was one of deep horror –not a damn bit funny. Even when I am awake the image is so deeply upsetting that I can’t shake the feeling that hell is a reality and that I have seen some part of it.
I notice that Saturn is actually here with us. He appears as an enormous roach with long brittle paper-thin wings. He sits perched upright on a rail, almost like an owl or large bird on a perch. He is black and slimy. The most remarkable thing about him is his antenna. They squirm and writhe all over themselves like greasy snakes. I look into Saturn’s ancient insect face. It sounds ridiculous, even Kafkaesque, but the emotion of the dream was one of deep horror –not a damn bit funny. Even when I am awake the image is so deeply upsetting that I can’t shake the feeling that hell is a reality and that I have seen some part of it.
Monday, April 5, 2010
...
The Christ and I are face to face in a room filled with incredible flowers, tiger lilies and great orchids. The room breathes with hallucinogenic intensity. Every object glows from within like paper lanterns. Jesus has El Greco eyes. We are outside time.
Before the kingdom of heaven, there deepens an abyss of anguish and death. There is no way around it. You will have to pass through it. Once you have seen it, there can be no going back, no hesitation. The door is slammed shut behind you, barring any retreat. You have swallowed the poison and the clock is ticking. The only way out then is through.
2009
Before the kingdom of heaven, there deepens an abyss of anguish and death. There is no way around it. You will have to pass through it. Once you have seen it, there can be no going back, no hesitation. The door is slammed shut behind you, barring any retreat. You have swallowed the poison and the clock is ticking. The only way out then is through.
2009
nine spades
When it’s four in the morning and you are alone in the darkness of your room praying to god to show you some kind of grace that will calm the fire raging in your mind like a pile of burning cinders, like a fever of anguish… right then something new is possible –but not until then.
9/27/09
9/27/09
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