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mordicai caeli

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March 5th, 2004

misanthrope (a lot of the things i've said i've meant). [Mar. 5th, 2004|11:33 am]
mordicai caeli
[Current Mood |tijuana bibles.]
[Current Music |cmk- the news paper obiturary]

i feel like a train wrecked itself on the temple of me. man i'm fucking sick. but i dragged myself out of bed & to hunter for the express purpose of attending japanese. i'm such a fucking trooper. i feel like i've been huffing nail polish- i'm light on my feet, but as in light as a feather, as in i'm blown helter skelter by the wind. contantly toppling like the tower of babel.

oh, so like a weak ago, i was called a rascist through an oblique literary refrence. a professor came in & was being weird about his book order, & after i was done talking to him someone was like "what the fuck (wtf) was that about?" & while i was explaining it to him, this black lady came up to the counter, & was like "ralph ellison! i know you can see me!" i was like "uh, can i help you?" it wasn't till later that i put together the ralph ellison invisible man thing. & i mean, i really only ignored her for about five (5) seconds, but i still was called a rascist! which is pretty awesome. lady, i ignored you because you were a customer, not because i care what color you are!
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Y as in capital Y autopsy scar Y. [Mar. 5th, 2004|11:43 am]
mordicai caeli
[Current Mood |Y shaped dream.]
[Current Music |cmk- indrid cold]

all those stovepipe looking letters. last night tore through me like a weasel in a hen house- hungry & with small teeth. left me with wasteland dreams, of empty factories with furnaces long cold. places where the only things that moved were the shadows when they flickered. whole seas of broken bottles of liquor. then there were the dark shapes   in the sky   blotting out the clouds; indistinct silhouttes that brought on unreasoning terror. bleak little things like the heirlooms of some long dead race of titans.

& of course i'm cut down the middle, stuffed with some kind of drywall insulation.
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mordicai caeli
[Current Mood |requiring medication.]
[Current Music |crown me king- coquette sphinx]

you forgot about how that thing, that bluish scarab thing, got into your blood & you forgot about the queen rising up from her pyre, her handmaidens scattering. you forgot about alot of things, there in your creche, there in your lurk, in your grotto. but what the hell, lets leave those things where we found them, shaped from ectoplasm into something tangible only to the somnambulent. viz. me. no i mean it, viz me. videlicet me. thats the winning drug for this gunslinger.

but there is this sticky sweet pulp. this sour blackberryish.
& i can rattle on about the mirror-mirror stuff like a snake.
like bats. like the beating of silent wings & echolocation.
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