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| Break | 6:26am monday, 28th april |
Another time to take a break. I don’t know how many of you have been with me from the beginning, but I wager not very many. You would know that from time to time, I take a break from writing on this site, usually because there is too much else going on with my life. Generally, all things are very good, but there are issues that I must attend to. Mostly they deal with the line of work I started last June, a venture a long time coming. I’ve been working 32 hour days, sleeping for 16 hours afterwards. It’s exhausting. It’s great. But basically, it’s sapping any and all strength that I have to do anything at all, so some part of my life has to give. This, here, has to be it. Dunno when I’ll have the chance to come back, so goodbye for now. Wish me luck. Hope to be back someday.
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| waters | 12:09am thursday, 24th april |
hearts break all over the place: it’s a mess just everywhere
some of us have erected a dam around our insides, because
we have drowned before in the waters when we had let it in
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| Coolness | 12:07am sunday, 20th april |
There is one song in my music collection, which, when I hear it come on, I half can’t believe that it is actually completely mine. As if at some point either during the tune, or right after it is over, that it shall be erased from existence, snatched from my clutches and only after a hard search could it be mine again. Perhaps it is that cool. Perhaps, instead, that we are all of us that used to disappointment. The good, when it comes, we have experienced that it never lasts. So when a thing happens, or is, of lasting worth, we sniff it suspiciously, not letting ourselves bite at it whole lest it be some kind of trap. Surprised rather pleasantly when no mechanism goes off, and the treasure really is ours....
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| unspoken | 12:25am wednesday, 16th april |
i have spied the poetry in your movings
i became lost in its rhythm, the curves the words painted
i cannot imagine that you meant to be so intricate
but the moonlight’s dalliance hides and reveals what is in your eyes
you are a candle in the dark of all unspoken hopes
you have imagined me into breath, out of the nothing was i
brewed in your hot lips, rising like smoke
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| Frailty | 12:14am saturday, 12th april |
The frailty of my psyche should not cause me any concern. For that which is inside me is girded by an invincible spirit, that flows within me and without me, that lets me know that I am a child of the Most High. I have been privy to the secret, that work is magic (for we take for granted a thing like functionality itself): the mercies have dug me from the pit, and I act even as a fledgling does, these days: at the edge of the nest, ready to take wing. However weak I feel at times, I have the strength of One who does not fail that guides my light. And I must remember that to live is a fearful thing, if one stops and thinks too long on it; better to relish in the experience, the highs and lows, and for all that happens, to know that we have won.
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| The Movies | 12:15am tuesday, 8th april |
Maybe it is like in the movies. Maybe the world gets saved, again and again, and we never are the wiser that we were that close to oblivion, destruction, cataclysm, all of us. The only way to know if this is so would be if we stepped into that narrow window of the supernal fates, that only the heroes and villains are privy to. The aliens and the men in black. The bearer of the charm and the hidden world underneath the surface of the present day. Perhaps these stories do that well because in us, they speak to that child within us that never lost their belief in magic. Who wants to think that we are all of us at every step only a wrong turn away from the chance to save the world. Blink, and everything’s alive.
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| next | 12:01am friday, 4th april |
may the light without sound shine upon your dying
may fires wither that desire to pierce your features
how time creeps by when you crouch to watch it close
how it slips the years in one glance into the mirror
there is a nothing my mind tries to wrap itself around
it stays vaguely out of reach even as it alludes itself
but a mystery is never what is there when it is revealed
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| cushioned | 12:13am monday, 31st march |
the horror is not real, not to we walled up in carpet
there are wilder parts of the world we will never know, where is blood
the pains we feel are much of all who ever lived jealous of
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| The Weird | 1:48am thursday, 27th march |
Visions pass before me in alchemies of imagination: such strange brews and forms, archetypes without names, brimming with meanings that I do not yet comprehend. I have been lost in the land of ideals for so long, out in the boondocks of their country, where the weird semblances shuffle by, where the flying things are impossibly aloft. How can ideas be so brute in nature? How can information be so piercing? I cannot imagine anyone else has ever been here, but I am probably wrong in this assessment. It is only a corner of the dreaming, and I think people have been to places deeper and more bizarre: what were they like when they emerged? For I am sometimes myself twisted, bent in peculiar ways by what I have seen, and smelled. Touched by the weird.
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| Happy Easter! | 12:46am sunday, 23rd march |
What are we supposed to believe? That a man rose from the dead, alone in a tomb, who was surely deceased, with no intervention save God above? That is the meat of it. With our “modern” sensibilities, we who have lead miracle-free lives, how are we to swallow such fare? I do not know if Christian Science so believes this, but it is in my opinion that Jesus Christ had science beyond us, not any kind of magic. That the miracles came from how He understood the world can work. This is what we believe: that his genius was beyond all genius, being the Son of the Infinite. When we think on what He said to us, we get glimpses of this kind of knowledge, this authority. If you care to look, He prayed like no mere saint ever has. This is what we believe: so great a man lived, a savior for all humanity. We recognize Him today.
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| Numbers Redux | 2:02am thursday, 20th march |
I am oppressed by numbers: everything means something. 7 with 11, 11 with 7, 7:11 in the morning after I’ve stayed up all night, 11:07 pm glancing down from the local news, even 1:17 in an average afternoon — all these point to something being figured out or some such epiphany appearing before me. 6:16 pm is the worst of times, for that was one of the numbers of the Beast, when spelled with different letters: a variety on NERO CAESAR. 211 relates to a number of a class I was taking in 1988 — back to the infinite light that makes that year a herald of great phenomena. For some reason, 211 has something to do with relationships; it’s complicated. And actually, the class number was 15-211, and of course, 15 is one of the numbers of God. As is 26. These numbers are good, but as it is with enlightenment, I must shed even the good karma. I must escape these numerologies, somehow. Somehow.
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