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insomniac theatre

 
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rm



Joined: 25 Jul 2006
Posts: 4073

PostPosted: Sat Oct 14, 2006 1:58 am    Post subject: insomniac theatre Reply with quote

I have so much not to say tonight. fools and god and goddamn idiotic idiot box shows blasting away in the other room... I will not speak of you. icy winds from the north, I care not. regrets and unfinished business, fuck off already.

tonight is all about women... and gardens.

voltaire:

Night fell and made him think of women: Lust
Was one of the great teachers; Pascal was a fool.
How Emilie had loved astronomy and bed;
Pimpette had loved him too, like scandal; he was glad.
He'd done his share of weeping for Jerusalem: As a rule,
It was the pleasure-haters who became unjust.


splendidly true!

I have spent the week here in maryland setting stones into the red clay earth, a pathway through a narrow yard amid ivy and autumn olive. there is nothing I more closely associate with physical love than foliage and man's attempt to tame and simplify it, construct it to his placid whims with wall and trellis.

there are mists even here, in america. mysterious clouds that taper into unknown worlds, another earth. if I were bold enough, or innocent enough, I would go to that place. instead I remain here and ruminate among the dark density of rural life.

it is difficult to talk seriously about faeries and such, the old world, the old wisdom, pagan and honest, that we, as modern folk, have no right to. but this is what I want to talk about... the feminine world of night, the moon, the plants, the mysteries of electricity, chemistry, mischief and light.
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Major Tom



Joined: 09 Jul 2006
Posts: 7562

PostPosted: Sat Oct 14, 2006 2:11 am    Post subject: Re: insomniac theatre Reply with quote

rm wrote:
the mysteries of electricity, chemistry, mischief and light.


haHA...i have been embroiled in the sweat and biting embrace of just these four sylphs all day.

by back aches; my head swims. i rest and wait for food to be served and then?

more, please, more.
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rm



Joined: 25 Jul 2006
Posts: 4073

PostPosted: Sat Oct 14, 2006 2:18 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

morgaine of the faeries, like all my great loves, waits somewhere outside of time and space. I have not arrived yet... that is the way to think of it.

I do not know why I should feel this attachment, though I always have. this character has captured my imagination since I was a child. a forest queen. wiser than men. strong and full of pain. a life with purpose.

she exists for me in a clearing in the deepest wood, or along the path that vanishes for no reason, a road that ends at the base of an oak, near water, near mists, near the inexplicable heartbreak of unaccountable nostalgia.

this sounds almost as ridiculous as santa claus, I know.

where do these images come from? I confuse my dream images with childhood memories, both real and given from books and family. it's a crazy wood of its own, potentially more real than anything real. and it is a world of women, my mothers world, my sisters world, the goddess, the priestesses, the nymphs and sirens and whores and the simple and complex girls I know in pittsburgh.

but is it them or my fascination of them? am I fascinated or am I lustful? I lust with my heart for things I have never seen anyone recieve... so how do I even have the idea?

where does the stone path lead? it leads me through my own heartbeat, I think, into dim realms of the completely forgotten, places we no longer have direct access to.
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rm



Joined: 25 Jul 2006
Posts: 4073

PostPosted: Sat Oct 14, 2006 2:26 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

there is always light, even in the darkest places underground. there, it is inside of you. you are full of currents and silent bleatings. the whole universe echoes with you.

the moon is a mirror. the mist is a mirror.

the light comes from somewhere that isn't the moon or the mist, and it isn't you in this case. now you are too dim, too afraid, knowing that there are things unaccounted for here.

when we aren't aware we try to account for it, without even trying. it is accounted for with loves notes and clothing left behind and silent guessing and waiting, hoping and with honesty we weren't ready for.

steadily inside of us we are burning away, making everything add up. but I know it doesn't. I know it doesn't add up.
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rm



Joined: 25 Jul 2006
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PostPosted: Sat Oct 14, 2006 2:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

the virgin mary is often depeicted as a garden without a gate. this, of course, makes complete sense, in part by not adding up. it's the perfect paradox. mustn't there always be a path? if there is no way in, no eyes to peer upon it, does the sun even find it?

where does the light go, after it's passed through our eyes?

where does love go once we've loved?

there must be seasons, I suppose. a sort of breathing in and out.
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rm



Joined: 25 Jul 2006
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PostPosted: Sat Oct 14, 2006 2:45 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

again, the moon and the mist are mirrors. any body of water from the smallest puddle to the largest ocean can be a mirror too. it is easy to say that and believe therefore these things have no qualities of their own. this is of course far from the truth. there are things hidden there, and that is what gives them their tranfixitive power. we men are just fillers, seekers, sailors.

I have never seen a faerie, but I have felt them around me. my imagination, of course. they emerge laughing from that great forest that I call my mind... and it makes me cry.

it is afterall my mind.

why do I bother trying to cultivate it, shape it into something fixed and opaque?

why can't I enter into it as freely as it enters into me? it is, afterall, my mind.
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rm



Joined: 25 Jul 2006
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PostPosted: Sat Oct 14, 2006 2:56 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

some things are definitely real. the chicken coup, the pastueral cows, the icy wind from the north, this screen, this me I call myself that I cannot really claim is my own... still real, but not my own. it is tiring to be in this place.

I have lost all train of thought, and will quit soon. there is no tidy ending tonight. I wanted to bend away like light, or simply gaze into nothing, letting my chemical functions drain away into the night like ions after a thunderstorm. but I will instead have a last drink and go to bed.

perhaps my dreams will unfold from the forest like a stone path I laid myself and lead me to the inexplicable heartbreak of unaccountable nostalgia. I don't mind that it isn't as real as a toothbrush or a keyboard. I don't care if it muddles my thoughts and makes me wish tomorrow dawned a thousand years ago. dawn is dawn. thought is thought. feelings are always true.
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mouse



Joined: 10 Jul 2006
Posts: 17165
Location: under the bed

PostPosted: Mon Oct 16, 2006 11:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

...voltaire wrote about a woman named "pimpette"?
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Cap'n Lazarus



Joined: 10 Jul 2006
Posts: 473
Location: Denver

PostPosted: Mon Oct 16, 2006 11:24 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

If he didn't, he probably should have done.

What an allegorical name for some playful girl with smooth slick tastes and flashing eyes.
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