THE WORK
It occurred to me, in the space between a sleep and a wake
That I am here because I offered very little love
To the ones I should have loved
The last time I was here
To the ones who have slipped into the mirror,
And the ones who reflect it in their eyes.
To the ones who must hide everything,
And the ones who lose what they hide.
To the ones who cannot be silent,
And the ones who must lie.
And the ones who reflect it in their eyes.
To the ones who must hide everything,
And the ones who lose what they hide.
To the ones who cannot be silent,
And the ones who must lie.
“
| — | Whitley Strieber (via nicevenn) |
THE MECHANISM OF OTHERNESS
I suspect that It is not possible to truly (objectively) perceive the mechanisms of the spiritual (energetic) world. We are routed in time. We can only look and move in one direction. We cannot look back, we cannot see our time from the outside. So this is a translation.
4. Blush of Dawn
Save yourself time and energy: reject anyone that looks down on you or is condescending towards you. Anyone that does that is clearly more screwed up than you are.
They can’t even deal with their own emotional / instinctive response to the external world.
3. A Coat of Many Colours
I don’t consider it stealing. I doubt that my neighbour had any idea it was there at all. My Bastard. Junkie. Neighbour.
What I mean is: I’d have heard about it, through the walls, if he’d found something that looked like it was worth money, in a wall cavity, in his room. I know I should feel sorry for him. I know that I should feel sorry for the boy who kept me awake at night, yelling nonsense, yeling at nonsense at the neighbours, at 2 am, yelling ‘Oh yeah baby, oh yeah’ while he spanked himself and jerked off at 3 am.
Why do I feel the need to explain myself? My teachers always said don’t ask questions. That’s reason enough.
2. The Real Sub Rosa
I hear voices. In my head.
Always have done. It’s never been anything other than glimpses, snatches of conversations, like eavesdropping. I can tune it in and out. It’s not like I’m insane. At least I don’t think so.
Sometimes I’ll hear the name of a place, sometimes exclaimed Sometimes a voice will say that someone has died. But it’s never been a place that I can get to, or a person that I know.
Sometimes I think that if I knew how, I could tune in to something or someone useful. But I have no idea how.
The Latin phrase sub rosa means “under the rose” and is used in English to denote secrecy or confidentiality, similar to the Chatham House Rule.
1. Hellequin
One morning I heard my neighbour being murdered. I was eating cornflakes.
—-
I don’t think, or I don’t feel that it is important to say too much
about myself. I don’t think, or feel, that those things are what is
important.
—-
I have reduced myself. I have reduced myself to the extent that the hollowness I feel offers me some kind of elation.
—-
So, I am going to try and make this quick. Otherwise I’ll chicken out and I won’t tell you what I want to say. I won’t apologize for my language. It is my language after all.
—-
“When I was alone, this is what it was like.” Whitley Strieber, Communion.
—-
I always felt that talking about it would somehow ‘break the spell.’ Conversely, I am not, or at least I have no desire to be superstitious.
—-
Candy, the curse of all my days.
The toast in the machine.
The cause without a rebel.
Reincarnation Street.
The ingredients of sleep…
—-
Why say it’s ironic when it’s not? When it’s intentional, or just plain irrational? How is ironic any better? Why give an irrational, instinctive reaction or action some false meaning or motivation?
