This bit is from my
Blog
I am with reid and diana. I am not madly in love with diana. I am
not madly in love with diana.
but for some strange reason Reid thinks that i am, and in a very Strong sense, bids me to
nevermore gaze upon her.
I travel to a strange land with Metephor Skyscrapers and Monochrome Monoliths - - everything is
wrong here, as if i were living in early 90's VR somehow,
at least until the sky began to fall
it was as if small pixels were being shot through the earth at dozens of miles an hour - or at
any rate slow enough to be seen, almost as if they were shooting stars, only through the streets,
and running through cars, people, trains, planes, automobiles, LINE skyscrapers, the works.
everything was being peiriced and destroyed by this falling fire of armageddon.
and then i woke up, got on the bus and went to work.
being groggy, not quite waking up yet, i am visited by diana.
she didn't notice the utter fear and disaster impending doom look on my face when i thought that
i was still dreaming in that dreamworld, but in fact i at this point was in another...
DUKE (V/O)
Strange memories on this nervous
night in Las Vegas.
(he gets up, pours
himself a drink)
Has it been five years? Six? It
seems like a lifetime -- the kind
of peak that never comes again.
San Francisco in the middle sixties
was a very special time and place
to be a part of. But no
explanation, no mix of words or
music or memories can touch that
sense of knowing that you were
there and alive in that corner of
time and the world. Whatever it
meant.
DUKE throws open the curtains. Light streams in.
EXT. 1965 STOCK FOOTAGE
We are in SAN FRANCISCO. IMAGES OF THE TIME FLOOD IN.
DUKE (V/O)
THERE WAS MADNESS IN ANY DIRECTION,
AT ANY HOUR... YOU COULD STRIKE
SPARKS ANYWHERE. THERE WAS A
FANTASTIC UNIVERSAL SENSE THAT
WHATEVER WE WERE DOING WAS RIGHT,
THAT WE WERE WINNING. AND THAT, I
THINK, WAS THE HANDLE -- THAT SENSE
OF INEVITABLE VICTORY OVER THE
FORCES OF OLD AND EVIL. NOT IN ANY
MEAN OR MILITARY SENSE; WE DIDN'T
NEED THAT. OUR ENERGY WOULD SIMPLY
prevail. We had all the momentum;
we were riding the crest of a high
and beautiful wave...
DUKE'S FACE IS SUFFUSED WITH A SADNESS AND SERENITY WE HAVE
NEVER SEEN BEFORE.
DUKE (V/O)
So now, less than five years later,
you can go up on a steep hill in
Las Vegas and look west, and with
the right kind of eyes you can
almost see the high water mark --
that place where the wave finally
broke and rolled back.
"Girls like to dance"-Diana
There's this dirty old man talking to a beautiful young woman.
She has circular Spectacles which highlight an otherwise symmetric and soothing face -
as a whole she is very pleasant to look at. every movement she makes is graceful, due mostly
to the sheer curvateur her general and specific shape - i'm not one for perfection but she's
right up there. What else do i know about her? She's a social critter - spends a lot of her
time drinking coffee and hanging out at my workplace, in the hall of mirrors, surrounded by
stained wood and reflections of reflections, and television screens - but she only comes, it
seems, for the companionship and the caffeine.
she is smart, so smart that i'm unsure how smart she is. She instantly had me on two arguments
which i thought were given
and i thought i was 'above average'
for the world that would have her as theirs, here it is the other way around.
and i think she knows,
that the world would be hers
i sold out, why am i not seeing any benifits?
there are no benifits, ever. it's an illusion
she dreams of being a drifter, living life as pure as it gets, understanding and being a part of
the great tragedy and romance of life at it's fullest - travelling the world, "peniless", and
cosmopolitan. Bedding down in hostels in all continents, while still having the warmth of the
mediterranian sun she left behind not to long ago behind her.
she dances, too.
He? Just another worker bee, stubble long overgrown and a black t shirt pinned to his skin with
two day old sweat. He may not be the prettiest, but he'll do. A savage armageddon is throwing
pixel fireballs around in his mind, and he's looking for some reason to live or die for, knowing
full well that he'll never find what he's looking for. at least until he realized that She was
there.
"Girls like to dance"-Diana
crude words covering suppressed intentions clog about as he tries to stand still and
balance on his heavy_soled fake leather hiking boots.
he has been working hard at his hopeless career job throughout the past ten hours, without any
noticable break, and his feet are blistered.
At that moment an entire future is scraped off from the possibilities of the frying pan of life.
his life, and possibly her life, could have collided, and could not have collided.
whatever happens now will happen no matter what effort is thrown against it.
that moment was the deciding point. the breakingpoint. the point at which two
futures were seperated from eachother indefinitely. it may have been that he will fail now,
move back to the suicide machine where he started from, start dating his awaiting exgirlfreind
cc, where she then proceeds to cheat on him with the local player and he generally lives
unhappily with his begotten children, and persues a low class slumjob like pizza driving, for
the rest of his life, never having quite enough to feed himself, her and offspring, let alone
having time to, or caring to think, or create any artwork worthwhile...
or mabye it works the other way around. mabye he will succeed from here elsewhere, driven by
the knowledge that one failure happened and could have been prevented. He has final exams soon enough to make this future work.
but in either case, the rest of his life, he will live, regretting that this day ever happened.
He will live every day, wishing that this day would happen soon. He had lived, every day, more
or less, waiting for this very day to happen. While it was happening, it was understood-that
this was the day-and that all was going wrong-and that everything further was pointless-the
damage had been done,
"Girls like to dance"-Diana
a group of beautiful girls asks me to dance. i shy out for a moment, and find that i cannot
manage even an awkward monolouge of bodily motion, blushing almost to tears hiding against my
chair, eating fries [thinking that if i keep this behavior up i'll be fat real soon,
while keeping a close eye on the entire situation---while keeping in mind a thousand instructions on how to dance, what dancing is, what rhythm is, and how to implement rhythm on a physical plane]
"i am so paranoid right now i'm almost in tears. The last time i went to a dance i used the
cheesy tai chi moves to improvise...i don't know what to do"
i didn't face my greatest fear at that moment, and as a whole failed her and myself.
She may never understand what that meant,
She want's me to dance for her, eventually to make up for it.
but i can't do it now. it's far too late
a month or lifetime of practicing on how to dance will not mend the rift wound that has been
created. She may or may not fall into one place or one or another guys arms, but the future is
going to turn out, as the future is going to turn out. no changing it any more.
It just isn't the same, and it never will be again.
the cheesy love song i wrote passed through my mind as this is happening
alone
breathless
spinning around
waiting for you to arive
you were never
there
and you
never will be
[cc]
*
i've been loosing her since we met
and our love was always past tense
we never realized we were together
until the day she left.
reflecting on how i'm creating metephors built on my metephors.
"Girls like to dance"-Diana
what? you don't understand the meaning?, oh?, you purple shaded milk psychedelic angel?
you sparkling hazel and hellfire Saphire in the Midnight Mirror?
Perhaps it was not meant to be understood.
Perhaps i'm reading undertones and noise that are just that - undertones echoes and static.
Perhaps things that are meant are only those which we want.
Perhaps things which we want are only those we are shown are cool, and desirable.
Perhaps things which we are shown to us are only shown to us in the way that they keep us from
finding out the true things which we should be fighting against, or believing in
This is the thing that gets me about those school shootings, when in highschool the awnser
is black and white, with us or against us, so simplistic - but the moment you take action,
the moment you think you know, the moment you kill one of them, you have lost. you have
lost because "they" have led you to believe that you know, or that you are in the right
in the end, or that the lucky bastard who doesn't have to live with the concequences of
murder [and enjoys calmness equality and unawareness on an non-understandable level]...
Or mabye i'm just one of those nuts who i try to avoid like the plauge. This is one of my
biggest fears -- that i have been nothing more than a wing-nut soon-to-be-trailerpark
fringe_lunatics who watches X files as if it were faith and believes in UFO's as some sort of
strange religion, while others around him silently point to him to eachother and laugh in their
heads a strange giggle that even they do not understand wither it comes.
And it makes sense, it's rare the day anyone agrees with me on the day i say something. and the
off chance that i'm right in the end may just be the odds are for me - nothing about me having
deeper insight or keener vision in the ways of knowledge, purity, music, poletics, prophecy,
or love---it's just that one of two options has to be --- i can be right or i can be wrong.
sooner or later i'm going to be right, as even a more or less loaded coin is going to land
heads eventually...
So what follows? what next? What is the next part? we wait for the awnser and yet there is
none. without an external authority to tell the englightened poet where to go, he either sits
around and waits for something to happen which never does, or they wander around until they die
of starvation. because the truth is there is no food. it's all a dream. a matrix. a lie.
right jewels?
We've been through worse
i've been through worse
it's been worse than this
i've seen worse than this
i've seen worse
it's worse than i've ever seen before.
the chlorine gas is everywhere, no air to breathe
i slowly inhale, coughing it out, forcing myself to inhale the poison gas again
mabye i'll just pass out, instead of this retching nausea, burning eyes and lungs filling with
their own decayed fluid...
but i've seen worse...
