Jun 30, 2009

Brooklyn Night, Two

Vanessa called me out and said: Share it! Share it more! You selfish shit! Perhaps she didn't say it that way; I'm remembering what I felt as what I heard. I'm recomposing. Yes, all the time! Recomposing myself, you, these memory bubbles I swim through and last night almost drowned in!

Anyway, the truth is I don't share enough. Now I'll share more. Remember that Bukowski didn't mean "keeping the bowels loose" as a private matter. I'll turn myself inside out now.




Dear one, you’ve given me everything but a place to be destroyed. In my insane desire for order I’ve failed to build a place for this to happen. All of my creations work against me in this way: they disallow me to solitude, the community, the resolute nobility of a place for my complete failure. Oh hold this ego holy and wrong who works so hard daily against me! Fuck being beautiful, give in to my profanity for this is where divinity and I come to play, to dance, to make love together in the twilight of what isn’t said. Repeat your mind. Drawn it into the sand. Let the ocean erase the sand and draw it again. Repeat your mind. Score the opera onto the sands of time. My music is only going to baffle you even more than it baffles me. Repeat my mind. My true lover, to whom my music is somehow melodies instead of baffling discordant empires built of a child’s sandcastles. My wife, on whom my life finally finds it’s solitude and breathtaking triumphant certainty. “I don’t need drugs to do that”. Fine, I do. Several bottles and one can of Colt 45 tell me what I need to meet you here in the unspoken perfection of what pretends to be memory. Pessoa knew he truth, that a liver is of no worth to mankind but words may be worth eternity. Fuck this eternal moment for being so and denying me my happiness. Fuck her legs and my desire that nestled between them for doing the same. Fuck all that carried the holy pretensions of eternity and failed to deliver. My eyes are watching you now and though the moment passes nothing will be forgiven. Nothing will forgive us now for wasting the dawn, and I have wasted many dawns. I include you only because I believe you are complicit, but it is my failure, it is me who has wasted the dawn, who let the last dawn languish in the peaceful land of sleep when I should have attended to the war. Forgive me, I become happy and forget the war is going on, I become drunk on the gorgeous desire of solitude and forget the war is afoot and magic exists only in between it’s tensile results. I do not know of whom I am asking forgiveness, for there is none anymore. All those gods have long since been killed or perished. Long since failed to deliver on our promises, which we made up for them in our dreams and well-ordered fantasies. You whom I have nothing for, you to whom I have come with nothing, you who stick out your soul and upend the lie in your noisy heart, you who have so often refused the lie which I made with my mind when my heart was dormant, you with whom I end this night and continue this life forever and I salute in this clarity of a drunken haze.

Brooklyn, NYC
June 1st 2009
The “Glasslands” for Black Elf Speaks

3 comments:

MAX! said...

"give in to my profanity for this is where divinity and I come to play, to dance, to make love together in the twilight of what isn’t said."

Inside of Aaron, where things are said completely, and sometimes too quickly for notice, the sun is up and raging. Outside, where things are often unsaid and slowly, the light is going out. Soon their worlds will merge, meet on a bridge over clean, clear water, and make love on the beach. What can you say after that? And has anyone else said "From now on, I'm going to be more honest" in a more beautiful way?

Nope.

Anthony Cristofani - The Sacred Dice revolutionary salon said...

The only problem with this is that it was three months ago? How could this jam stop so soon? Doesn't October need this?

There are lines here that need to be packed into an ounce and sold on the black market.
Give me some more to snort.

Vanessa said...

Remember that day, over a month ago, when we drove back from Burning Man and you descended into some prison of high silence?

I like this much, much better. I especially love how much you respect Karine's constant striving for your intimacy.

I wish I could call you on the phone, reminding you you're not alone, but we can use video chat for that.

give it.