October 18th, 2004

cigarette burns

the flap of the curtain (looked like a black eagle)

the organ music swells when our fine young adventurers walk into the lair. or some such shit. i don't know, what do i know, i know everything. jenny goes to los angeles today, the city of angels, leaving of course this here fallen angel to his own devices. my plan is a little more "give 'em hell" than collapse, i think. you know, its haikus about cherry blossoms, written by fucking samurai. its diamonds are a girls best friend solid. but oh the things i know with this head of mine. i know the weight of a shadow, thats what symon says. & i guess i do. i can tell you what the tears of the seraphim taste like. i can tell you with the barrel of a goblin's gun tastes like. i can read the weave of a flying carpet. oh heck. the sluice is closed, okay? take it around back- pick through the garbage, if you like.

anyhow, yeah, mostly yesterday went like this: having fun with jenny. tried to have sex with jenny. jenny got pissy because i tried to have sex with her. ran errands. walking outside in the cold preferable to the cold inside. we run vinegar through the coffee machine. i go to dungeons & dragons. meet the devil, kill a prince(ss) of hell. chased off a trickster god. okay. came home, went to sleep. kiss jenny this morning as she goes to work. she leaves from work for the jet plane, but i know when she'll be back again.
  • Current Music
    crown me king feat. UB 40- "red, red rum"
modern nazgul

until the lights went out i faded like a shadow.

a quarter after ten. i'm not quiet & i'm not desperate. i can hear the ocean from here. vast & underground. i hear the condensation from the rocks above dripping into it. i can hear the sussarus of the things dwelling in it. dwelling, because "living" would be a big streach of the word that i can't commit to. & i can commit. i commited to the doctrine of mutual assured destruction, to the balance of terror. i am talking about love, you know? isn't that how it works? or doesn't work, whatever. talking yesterday about how the fact that i can't distinguish between "good" attention & "bad" attention (like a child, acting out) means that our relationship works. means that i get a lot of mileage out of even the rough parts. what the hell do i know? i'm like a man made of dynamite. please set me on fire so i can accomplish my task.

oh, i don't believe that the brain is all that important, nor the heart either. your guts is where your honor is, but even that there? is pretty much beside the point. you could divide me up into canopic jar, oh osiris, & i would still darkle. split my soul into ba, ka, sehkem, & all those other parts? i suppose thats a closer step to it. you want to see the colour of my atman? do you want me to swear on all these bones of mine that mankind is jiva-atman & only the jiva-atman? that there is no eternity for the sons of adam & daughters of eve? for the sons & daughters of anak? for any of you fucking pricks? in heaven, everything is fine. in heaven.
  • Current Music
    crown me king- "your share of the loot"