Ever Glowing World of Fiction

Finished Haroun and the Sea of Stories this afternoon at the bookstore. Two days of good reading basically allowed me to finish it. A fairly straight forward fairy tale book, imaginative creature characters battling in the fight for light over darkness. I think Salman wrote it during his days of exile, perhaps as a meditation or practice in keeping his attitude healthy with all the impending doom and threat and paranoia looming in his then life? I'm going to stop my Rushdie phase here, feeling I'm ready to taste a different author for now, but I do want to go back and try my hand at Rushdie's more meaty political writing. I've just skimmed his fantastical verse's, which was a special surprise for I knew not that he was such a writer, taking me to worlds I'd not expected to go. Next I'm picking up Haruki Murakami's 'Sputnik Sweetheart' for starter's. Wanting to read 'The Winged-Bird Chronicles' next? I've heard some good things about it. So after I finished Haroun I immediately went down to pick up Murakami and rode to a shaded tree area on green grass and prosumed to begin this adventure. Reading, fiction inparticular, is really suiting my needs currently. It's allowing me new modes of thinking that I'm wanting to develop in myself. Having to do with imagination and stories and truth thru stories. I'm finding out that truth can best be explained, if not by personal experience (the preferred manner), then by imaginative suggestion, metaphor, by example. But in the end it is personal revelation that guarantee's one's understanding of what truth is. Fiction is helping me develop a new language to view reality from.

Please gracious, come indulge this sacred feast
We rhapsody sinsualities, soon shall summon a miraculous beast
The vine is ripe and supplies intoxication
Be not shy, but practice acts of fornication
You are welcomed guest, act your will merrily
Disrobe if you wish, to fashion us arousingly
Here you will find all you desire
Dance now the night along this ceremonial fire

Never Lets Me Down

My constance, sadness, remain true, without recession.
I am absorbed and surrendering in you, who never lets me down.


I was telling a friend of mine my current acknowledgment of the understanding that the emotion of sadness seems to me more a consistent and timeless emotion than love. And that this did not make me ,well, sad or depressed like he instintively thought it would/should? Sure sadness gets a bad rap, everybody's trying to beat it like a fat kid in elementary school, but when looked at from a place of confirmation that it exists and is a part of you, rearing its sensations from inside, then I find that comforting.
Even in love, when everything is blissful and nothing can touch you, inevitably you will feel sour from this very person who has given so much love. At a funeral you are very well reminded of sadness and it's actually this sadness that I most identify true living with. This acknowledgment of our passing, our identifying with our mortality and relatively short existence in these bodies. The realization that we are built to die can be a fulfilling one by wanting to utilize your time most creatively, effectively, productively...but in society it has been locked up and never talked about.
I have felt most alive at funeral's, in sad movies, or when I'm so humbled I tear. It is a constant friend she and I. Wearing a black blue cloak.

Sore throats happen when you sleep with your mouth open and a spider lays eggs in your esophagus.

Finished the blue book. A dream book compiled of over two years of dreams and notes. It smells slightly of patchouli and has deep sentimental feeling for me. I'm going to say that it, along with my drawing books, are the most important material items I possess. The objects I would look for if a fire were burning down the house. For they show my history, evidence of my interior worlds made manifest. They tell me who I've been and maybe lend clues to where I'm heading. All I am is in these books.
I started my new dream book this morning with a entry about me not participating in a orgy; yelling 'alligator' in a crowded dining hall and fooling everyone into believing their lower limbs were in danger of being devoured and chomped; and was attacked by Matthew Barney in a Versailles type garden while a large hedge came to life giving me time to get away. I am in love with dream logic.

Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome

Come all who seek entrance into this place.
Soon the sun shall sink beneath the sea,
and the heavens be illumined by the glow of the moon,
who whispers our secret future.

No passage is so removed from decency as this.

Drop your garments that hinder you.

Drink from the cup that heals you.

Fear not your wake

For you are witness to the dawn of your birth.