reading the infinite jest (source of said lyrics); when i am done it better be fucking warm out.
more macedonio
Minute one: Evocation of Eterna’s face
The kisses you denied me bite your lips
Biting each other
lips make each other bitter
You write the manuscript of this your novel where
I give you my spirit as you gave me yours
And for what I could not be, I have your
Gesture of divine sadness, of your I Cannot,
In this denial my being made whole
Whole persona, you raised me in the no “Living”
And how much more in Loving.
p. 125
so i will read you and you and you
plurality and picking paths
in april
doodles
these are all old. maybe one day i’ll be bored enough to scan some of my new drawings. i think i’d have to be pretty bored.
seriously – a dragon lives in the dungeon behind my living room (cave) wall, and I wish he could keep quiet when people come over.
maybe
work forthcoming in danse macabre.
soakie and blue
The artist seeks contact with his intuitive sense of the gods, but in order to create his work, he cannot stay in this seductive and incorporeal realm. He must return to the material world in order to do his work. It’s the artist’s responsibility to balance mystical communication and the labor of creation.
I left Mephistopheles, the angels, and the remanants of our handmade world, saying, ‘I choose Earth.’
p. 256 Just Kids
on expansion and mnemonics
The individual consists of memory: each one, in his differing mnemonic path; while still living at home, the feeling of he who feels the most is transmitted to the others, so that there’s no more than a single sentiment; the strongest state is like a tonic and it invades the other consciousnesses, to the point of weakening whoever feels it the most and unifying the surrounding field of consciousness. The individual sustains himself in these multiple memories of corporeal existence that each one has; plurality is only in the conscious existence in which they find themselves now.
p.201 more eterna, eternally yours—>
the totalpossibility of occurrence
She remembers that in the afternoon, when she was walking in the garden, the President had made up a story for her about the gardener’s madness before the spectacle of flowers, which presented to him an unlimited succession, each flower surpassing the last in beauty. Everything is possible in creation, there’s nothing that can’t be dreamed, that can’t come to pass. Being does not understand no. The President told her this in his favorite formula: the totalpossibility of occurrence, the liberty of Reality.
p. 203 The Museum of Eterna’s Novel