FIXED WATER: RECENT DREAMS.
DREAMS OF LATE have been corporate in their
aesthetic, Expanded to nearly-divine proportions: the consummation, surely, of
the Capricorn Quest. That sense of Monetary Success that is so evocative of the
Religious Instinct for so many people suffused these elaborate dramas that were
by far more Cinematic and Contemporary than they were Kafkaesque, like a Bold
March into Black Time. Anthony’s return to My Actual Life has stimulated the
Ego, though he apologetically dispossesses himself of the role of Role Model.
Plot details go through me like unwritten poems
and cheap mixed drinks. I am Becoming the City of San Diego with all its Moans
and Groans, its aches and pains, and its semblances to video games (esp.
Ratchet and Clank 2: Going Commando). My stream of consciousness is
unrestricted in its Dionysiac flow, and I am plummeting through my collapsing
coping mechanisms With Style. This very ambiguity is in fact the specificity of
emotional detail.
What follows are just plot and story:
I am beginning again to infiltrate Houses.
Perhaps Dillon the Cancer is offering his help in this respect;
It is hard to say. A sense of Monogamy has set
into my dealings once again. The Light of Focus shines upon the details and the
details no longer bamboozle me. My True Mind has no choice but to be proud and
forthcoming. It is not fortitude but Nature that maintains my adherence and my
Course, if not my adherence TO the Course. This very record is My Shepherd’s
Journal: due to be dismissed as the Rantings of a Man Man.
As I progress the Inner World Grows and Subsumes
the Outer.
My Complexes become alike to Gods, even if they
are not archetypes. Passion knows no restriction in examining its self. Truth
is both Lucid and Personal. I am on the verge of a Break-through whose portents
are chilling to my very Bones. No longer do I feel obligated to Account for the
Past. I have only to acknowledge it.
That I scorn some part of it in passing gives no
man License to transmute my memories into an argument. They Are MINE. And I
will not have them corrupted and my Heart’s dominion over them usurped.
Frequently I take journeys to distant Islands. It
feels like Blood Island from the Third Monkey Island game. At long last,
I am winning where this elaborate Puzzle Game of
Life is concerned.
And I am unphased that every new puzzle requires
me to shift gears and to employ a set of skills distinct from those I’d needed
for the puzzle that preceded it.
I am feeling Very
Scorpio. e
The Leo Season is surely coming on, and soon,
bringing with it Erotic Love and Showmanship. My own Aquarian tendencies are
starting to act up.
Was I not hospitalized on Halloween? It is true.
Scorpio all ways was close to my Heart, but
forbidden by Society. It is the Sign of Extremes, of Manic Depression and of
Retaliation. And it is a Sign of Taboos.
It is Not Evil.
It simply cohorts with Evil and too comfortably.
This Battle never starts and never ends. It is at
the very Core of Humanity. And like Camus I shall protest its Absurdity.
My only Hope is that I do not so alone. So far,
Hope has done more for me than Camus gives it credit for in Youth.
My Water is Fixed!
Thank you for fixing the water.
Dm.A.A.
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