Original article posted by ravenpaine:

Entry 49 – April 25, 2004

I just threw back a double shot of bourbon with a Dr Pepper chaser. It’s gonna be an all-nighter.

The time has come to sit down, kick the music up to past full blast and start typing. I have a lot of things to say, in the retrospective written sense of say, and I want you all to be prepared before you read it.

From here out the disclaimers stop and the actual organization of the piece gets lest than crystal.

It is late Sunday. Since Friday I have dealt with severe problems in various walks of the world. I have talked to an online associate who was attacked and frightened by the world at large. Somehow I found the right things to say and she is better for it. I blame honesty, I said only what I thought I should. If I were a better writer I could have lied the whole way through and perhaps done more good. I just got lucky.

I saw the Wendy Friday night as well and felt that she was looking healthy if not tired and I tried desperately not to say a string of things that I only half mean and half created to say in case i saw her. I said nothing. I felt kinda bad for it.

I told Rowsdower that of all the problems I have in life being Married would solve a great number of them. He agreed, reluctantly, and I sat down to do some heavy thinking about it.

I went on an espresso induced bike ride that had me collapsing after a quick three miles in less than ten minutes, half of which was uphill. I felt ill and I felt foolish, and mostly I felt sleepy. But that would be interrupted by a distraught Susannah whose name I just spelled improperly. From 3:30 to 8:00 we went round in the usual circles and she left feeling fine.

I went brutally unconscious only to wake in time to:

Find my way to Kelsie’s talk about what has shaped her life and how faith can provide you with strength outside of your own.

A lunch that was more talk then food.

A conversation in the car with my current nemesis about the music we enjoy and why. Doughty is our mutual hero for reasons that I can’t explain here.

And so on, and so on.

I forgot the part where a new mental paradigm has allowed for nearly a week of Unification of personalities with only two minor slips. I’m considering finding a way to reward myself but am historically very bad at that sort of thing.

Refill the Dr. Pepper, eye the booze. Hear Blaine saying “booze shake” in my head and wish that I had anything made with Kaluha in hand. Regrett that spelling was never my strong suit. Too practical to care that rules are rules. Too anarchistic to learn the rules of things I already devalue.

The pounding of the music echoes in my mind like the sound of the clicking from my fingers. I would get lost in the music of the spheres if I wasn’t so prone to sitting still when the time came.

And that was far more impressive in my ear than it was in my eye. My mind swirls out the side of my gob and I find that the torso ocillations and the head bobbing are reaching frantic levels.

You are now in the vortex of my writing brain at work. The censors, as Darrel Spencer would have it, have been taken out and shot. There is only creativity at work here and it feels like going on a Hunter S. Thompson rant.

That is what I get for drinking the drink.

Shit face to the wall and full speed down the interstate of thought on half a quart of bourbon and two full liters of Dr. Pepper.

I added the dot for empahsis but Husselbee, the Prof, would have already had my hide over the whole thing.

I saw her today, you know, Xiao – The light of, and be of, and value of my life. I know that I have a tendency to go all looney when it comes to the girls that I have interest in. But this, you will find, goes quite beyond what I normally do. And I’m not likely to win on this battle ground either.

The Unfication is a grand effort. All blues and reds. None of the frighteining stark greys of the British Commons in June. No. All pieces of history blurring together to tell me something unique and of import.

I never have done well with the word import. We talk to each other infrequently after the seperation and I pay alimony daily despite the fact it is usually every month.

I’m reminded of how I once felt long ago. The long ago of another lifetime when things made more sense becasue I knew so much less of what was going on. You won’t find too many times in your life where everything wraps around you and hardens into a shiny vaneer like this. I call it the chrysalis effect. Without the capitals, cause lets get real here. The chrysalis. Where you go when you find that the life you have and the life you are about to have are mutually seperate. No part exists of you after you enter. Everything transforms into the new and you don’t suddenly morph back.

Minus all those pesky time travel rays. Which I have outlawed as a general guideline.

Dark thoughts in my twisting skull and a warmth born of booze in my gut. The music is loud enought that I know I can’t tell what is happening outside of my particular ionic sphere but it isn’t all that important. All that is important right now is that I keep typing until it all comes together.

And it will come together. I’m certain of that. There is a portion of me conscious enough to tell that something useful will happen here. I’m not just twitching and typing into a dull void.

The cosmos is alive and it has a message for me but I have to give it the devotion of clickety-click until it arrives. I worship hard at my little desk and I have faith.

Faith is a word that is bandied about as often as the word bandied. I fear that it has lost some amount of the shock and awe that it once thrived on. Back in times immemorial when people did things for reasons that had as little to do with tomorrow as they did with today.

There are things far more important than space and time. And we fought for them back in the day. Back, not in the past, not in the middle ages, this is not a rant where the world is found to be full of shit now and ten thousand years ago it was just fine. I mean when we were young. When being full of wonder about the existance of everything was as important as tasting dirt to know if it was better than mom’s potatoes.

I never did eat dirt. I suppose I missed out on that. Not about to go back and do it now. But that is the whole point. We are not about to go back and check these things again. Innocents is not the only thing we lose as we grow old we also lose our will to do it all over again.

We start looking for the end and forget that sometimes a racetrack is just a loop that we run over and over again.

Dark thoughts in the brain. Love that seemingly bursts from my chest in long strings. I can see the fabric of passion and life and I find that I am roilling with it.

Now is the time. But for what. How! Will I see it? Where, where, where.

Sipping on the essence, flow, flow. Turn when you come and seek what you find. Question, quandry. So many Q words that only work in limited contexts. We have a letter that is barely used and we use it in words that we barely use.

Taste. Taste the sensations that swim about your eyes and see what I have breathed. Breathe that wich cannot be touched and leave smell out of it all.

I dont’ get along well with smell.

No. No. Sip. Sip. Twitch and rile. The floor echoes with the truncheon sound of my efforts. The whole world quivers with the excess of excess and I can only chronicle that which I sense and that which I have done.

Rodney TGAP
Bonne nuit, bonne nuit to you all.

Orginal comments:


Nickname: thewendy
thanks
i wouldn’t want you saying things that you only halfway meant.

i wouldn’t be feeling bad about anything. thanks for hugs.

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