Sure you can look back, If it means moving on

Sure you can look back
If it means moving on
And you can take me back
But you must come home
We are both a in maddening cloud

[audio:miserybutterfly/008maddeningcloud.mp3]
(Blonde Redhead – Maddening Cloud)

Been a while huh?
Admit it, you missed me…

Really. Its been like 2 months or something. You must have noticed.

Whatever…

I apologise for my absence for those of you who have come to enjoy my stumbling efforts to make sense of my world. Or just steal my salsa recipes and claim the glory for yourselves (you know who you are).
As one or two of you already know, life happened, and I have been busy with living, rather than writing about living. I enjoy writing about living, but recently its been changing so much, and so many changes are going on in my mind that I have been at a loss as to how to describe how I feel, or what the changes actually are.
I say that as if I have somehow reached a point where I can describe it. Alas, you are to be disappointed.

I can’t recall what I have said or not said about recent events in my life, so a quick recap…started new full time job in June, wife left same week to move to different part of country. Spent couple of months learning to work full time again after 5 years self employment. All I pretty much did during this period was get my head together, work, and pay the rent and the large pile of debts I had accumulated. I drank some…I reconnected with friends. I breathed again, and thought a lot. I recognised how much happier I was out of the marriage. I moved on a whole lot.

Then I had a visit from a new friend. It was supposed to be a short visit, a few days…
She is still here.

That time has been spent in a crazy blur of discovering another person, discovering myself, discovering what love actually is, and what it is not. There is so much more I could write, need to write, but finding the time and the right words is so difficult. The process is ongoing, and wonderful, and stressful and new.

I just wanted to get this post out of the way because its been sitting in my drafts for weeks, in one form or another, and I need to break the logjam. I have stuff to say.

And you can touch me there
Just don’t leave me alone
And you can call me softly
When I dream and ask for more
You can slow and fold and mold my mind

And she said
I can’t feel my toes
And she must be alone
And far too cold

And he stares
Like he doesn’t see
He must be scared
And far too lost

Under and over
We must have glanced
Face to face
We’ve had to dance
We’re both in a maddening cloud

Sure you can step back
If it means moving on
And you take me back
But you must be alone
You can choke and smoke and rock my mind

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alive

Yes.
I am.

Alive that is.

I, as mentioned in the comments of a previous post (were you not paying attention?) have been moving, and have been on holiday, and without internet, etc, blah.
I would have told everyone, but I assumed all you smart people hang on every word I say and would have caught the moving reference, and extrapolated.

So, sorry if I caused any inadvertent momentary worry on my behalf. I am back.

Life has become….interesting.

Simulacra and Simulation

[audio:donotwanthis.mp3]

Sometimes, only sometimes, you realise that the map you use to find your way around your mind is of equal size and complexity, and possibly even containing more layers and levels than the plane you try to exist upon at any given time.

That one we call reality. You might have noticed it.

I am nihilistic and twisty.
Sometimes there is a core of anger in me that rises with no reason at all. Self-hatred, futility, weakeness. Bitter fucking hate.
I hide it well. I take it away from those I care about. Or try to. Which is ridiculous because the only thing that can stop it is to be held until the anger has no fuel.

Sadly when I am like this, I don’t let anyone near me.

So instead of bothering people, instead of asking for help, I will drink, and pretend I am fine, and it will be buried, and squashed down, into that layer of silt at the bottom of my mind. God help me if if gets disturbed by some giant footstep some day.

Tasty beer. You will never leave me…

The original is unfaithful to the translation.
(Jorge Luis Borges)

the divine mockery of words

Its quite a moon. I am a little lost in it. Not in a bad way, although the line between good and bad is a little blurry on nights like these… things just, are…

This is what I am drinking to keep the ghosts away:

Its the key ingredients of the Darkarita!

Viz:

The Darkarita

  • A jigger of Sauza Tequila Blanco
  • A small jigger (pony) of Cointreau
  • A splash of Blue Curacao (for the darkness you know, plus drinking blue stuff makes me smirk)
  • A healthy squoosh of fresh lime (about a third of a small lime but go with your tastebuds)
  • A smidgen of lemon juice (just a brief squeeze)
  • half teaspoon of palm sugar
  • Coarse ground salt

Chuck everything but the salt in a blender, with ice, blast the hell out of it.
Rub lime juice around the rim of the glass, grind the glass into a saucer of salt so the rim is coated. Pour tasty goodness into glass. Sit back and be endarkened.

So now you know the secrets of my success. Ignore. Avoid. Hide in the cellar until they go away. Scraping fingers at handle, whispers, curses.
Its a waiting game. Its only when you’re relatively sane that you know that they do go away, eventually, and you just have to let it play out. The ghost dance in your head. Some of you will understand what I’m talking about, some of you won’t. It doesn’t matter. The divine mockery of words…

No one leaves magic mountain

[audio:inbetweendays.mp3]
(The Cure: Inbetween days)

I have literally no idea what is going on in my mind right now.

Its almost amusing, how blasé I seem to have become about, well, everything.
I spent so many years simply surviving, lurching from one horrible phase to the next, that this ever-increasing not-miserable period has imbued in me a sense of ‘what the fuck’…I’ve been in the shit, and I survived, and yes it smells bad, but I can survive it. Why bother emerging from the shit simply to spend your life dodging shitpools?

Alright, so I am not terribly eloquent today. I don’t care…I aint here to impress you lot with my highbrow repartee.
Here have some Dylan Thomas, should keep you quiet…

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light…

(Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas)

[audio:feelinggood.mp3]
(Muse: Feeling Good)

And I think you all know where I’m coming from now…

What do you mean ‘haven’t got a frickin’ clue mate?’ I bare my soul, and you just sit there picking your fingernails? Heathens.

Ok. Look. What am I saying? I am having a hard time concentrating. Its been a busy week at work, I seem to keep accumulating more and more side projects because I am hyperfocused and hyperactive at work, so get at least 5 times as much done as would be expected of me.
Its also a dark moon weekend. This messes me up quite a lot. Normally a dark moon will make me quite emotional and prone to melancholy, but throw in hyperactivity and it seems to blend up into a big jazzy frothy intense brain blowout confusion smoothy.

I need to calm down. I am making coffee.
Those two don’t seem to go together do they?

I have no control over myself at times like these. Its when I most understand what manic-ness must feel like. I do whatever I feel like, I lose all caution and could care less about consequences.

Fortunately these moods last only a short time. I’m sure this one will have dissapated by the morning, or possibly the start of the week, it being a dark moon.

I have coffee. I have no idea what I was going to write about when I started this post. Thats awful. Another casualty of manic me. My short term memory, never the best in the first place, falls apart completely.
Strangely, I feel tired as well. Tired and manic. Is that normal? I can’t even remember if that is normal or not now. I can’t remember anything, ahhhh, who am I? Whats going on?

Fuck it. I’m giving in…

I might edit this when I come round.

At magic mountain
Nothing changes
Everything stays the same
Cross my heart
And hope to live
All the time
With a little fever…
(Magic Mountain:Blonde Redhead)

dancing star

[audio:fallingman.mp3]

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations. Anais Nin

I accept chaos. I am not sure whether it accepts me. I know some people are terrified of the bomb. But then some people are terrified to be seen carrying a modern screen magazine. Experience teaches us that silence terrifies people the most. Bob Dylan

The most successful people are those who are good at plan B. James Yorke

The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers. M. Scott Peck

You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star. Nietzsche

Chaos and Order are not enemies, only opposites. Richard Garriott

Just some things to help me think….