we know not when Divine Attention flows from A LOVE SUPREME.
CANTO III
That sun that breathed love's fire into my youth
had thus resolved for me, feature by feature --
proving, disproving - the sweet face of truth.
I, raising my eyes to her eyes to annouces
myself resolved of error, and well assured,
was about to speak; but before I could pronounces
my first word, there appeared to me a vision.
It seized and held me so that I forgot
to offer her my thanks and my confession.
CANTO V
"If, in the warmth of love, I manifest
more of my radiance that the world can see,
rendering your eyes unequal to the test,
do not be amazed. These are the radiances
of the perfected vision taht sees the good
and step by step moves nearer what it sees.
Well do I see how the Eternal Ray,
which, once seen, kindles love forevermore,
already shines on you. If on your way
some other thing seduce your love, my brother,
it can only be a trace, misunderstood,
of this, which you see shining through the other.
You ask if there is any compensation
the sould may offer for its unkept vows
that will secure it against litigation."
Alice Mcleod vs. Rachel
I would say to Rachel: "COME ON, cross over! Let's make an alliance!
I'll look out for you, and you look out for me! Let's make a miracle!
Let's reclaim our sight; let's combine and spread our vision."
Like the Invisible Man. Is he talking about Bledsoe, the house slaves,
the ones who support the masters and obey them, even when expected to
act unjustly towards other slaves? The smaller dealers, Sly, etc.? Why
does she give it up for the "oily, smooth scoundrel", while choosing to
punk me? Does she like them better, is she more sexually excited,
satisfied by them? Does she enjoy punking me? --I was reading
Coltrane's notes to Alice McCleod when he was "pursuing" her: I will
look it up again but from memory--he talks about sleeping, at peace, at
night; he writes about staying just, fair. Nothing Rachel is attracted
to...
I would try to argue with her how taking Coltrane as a role model has
the potential to make her happier than she is now, but she seems to
have already made her decision.
I would rather listen to Trane and Bran and Cole, etc., and pursue
their happiness, than participate in hers. Or maybe I'm just not cool
enough to participate in hers. So be it--maybe Black Sunshine in the CD
can become my next muse.
---
Coltrane's poems to Alice McCleod (from "A Love Supreme" by Ashley Kahn, pages 78, 79):
How kind you are to me--to give--the universe revealed I see / Yes now
I'll go to sleep--it's right, sweet--I rest in peace / At night--
1-6-64
Good morning my Dear
Another new day. Another new chance to share in God's great story. {To
be to give.} Don't forget to be kind--to be forgiving. And to be
helpful--to be strong and just and to always be fair. Pray and give
thanks. You are born again. Work and love. You are born anew.
Crush's end (?)
In a cheap motel room on Aurora Ave:
She recites at great length (in a loud voice, is it disturbing the
neighbors?) her childhood: on her own at 13, living with her teenage
homeless friends in the city park, doing lots of drugs, stealing food...
I am lying on the far side of the bed, arm covering my eyes. I am
becoming aware just how different she is from me. She is beautiful, she
has always been able to trade off her looks. There are some superficial
similarities ("I used to be afraid to speak up in class, even when I
knew the answer and no one else did, I was too scared to say it out
loud, then the teacher would give the answer and it was what I was
thinking"), but she never, I think, descended to the same depths I did,
because she always got approval because of her beauty, because she was
a girl...
She finishes, there is silence. Maybe she said something about boring
me, I don't remember...I do remember saying "You're giving me lots of
material for my research."
And that set her off.
Suddenly her tone changes, and I am subjected to a stream of pure anger
and condemnation, from one who knows they hold power over their
interlocutor. She couldn't believe I would put her story online. With
her real name! And her connection to "that band" - how could I be so
stupid? Irrational, I was thinking, why is she so upset? Why doesn't
she give me reasons, instead of heaping anger upon me? I am submissive,
non-responsive; but I still have some fight in me at that point and ask
her "What are you going to do, sue me?" She laughs scornfully, she has
friends, she can do better than sue me, she will get online herself and
publicly humiliate me, expose my life for what it is. I welcome that I
tell her, that is what the internet is for, please do that! But she can
do more. She has resources, her friends will fuck me up. Again, no
logic to her anger, I am thinking. There is no reasoning with her in
this state. And I begin to think that she is just using this online
thing as an excuse for her to get angry with me, to show me she's boss,
that I have to submit to her will no matter what the subject or the
logic of her whims. It reminds me of other interactions I have had with
females, with Tracie, and how much I hate that. She is no different! In
fact worse, because she is so much more attractive than I, and knows
it, and doesn't even like me as much as Tracie did...
It continues. I am out of arguments, have no desire to talk to her. She
has made me extremely nervous. I want to be away from there. I'm almost
out of crack, I will go get some more, to get away. I get up, load my
last hit. She is out apparently. Did she construct this whole situation
to make me go get more?
I blow the hit out. It is not a good hit, it does not take me very high, I am still nervous, my voice shakes:
"You know Kurt's journals just sold for $4 million..."
She is silent. I pack up my kit, reach for my coat to put it away in a pocket. I am thinking how unsatisfying the hit was.
"Crack is not the answer, I know that...Kurt should have practiced
more...I should practice more. That was Coltrane's answer. He used to
practice in the bathroom between sets, they say. His answer was in his
horn...I'll find my answer...I'm not ready yet..."
Silence. Do I sense approval?
---
Several hours later, sitting in my car on 2nd and Virginia, waiting for her to leave me:
"W w w dot slashdot dot o r g, blue trane's diary. T r a n e. It's a Coltrane song."
"I know." A little too quickly...does she really know the song? The
tune (I think I have it right) starts playing through my head.
"Coltrane wouldn't have done what you did."
I think of the junkie Trane, the one Miles Davis describes as
"pathetic" in his autobiography, wearing the same clothes for days,
picking his nose during others' solos, what about that Trane? But the
impulse to tell her about that fades, she's probably right, after all:
"I know I'm not as good...great...as Coltrane...He's a...model...idol...I can only study him, and try to learn..."
She puts her hand on my knee briefly, then turns to go.
Eva
Eva is a character in "Uncle Tom's Cabin". She is a little girl, St.
Clare's daughter. She is Christ-like in her love for all beings, in
being loved by all, in dying before her time. It is clear she
represents pure good.
Because she loves all, including the slaves, she feels unhappy at their lot and the way most whites treat them.
But it is her attitude towards death that interests me...
"I am not nervous, I am not low-spirited. If it were not for you, papa,
and my friends, I should be perfectly happy. I want to go, --I long to
go!" (Chapter 24).
For her, death is a gateway to eternal rapture:
"Dear papa," said the child, laying her burning cheek against his, "how I wish we could go together!"
"Where, dearest?" said St. Clare.
"To our Saviour's home; it's so sweet and peaceful there -- it is all so loving there!" (Chapter 24)
Throughout her illness, she maintains honesty with herself and with
others regarding her condition; she refuses to let others pretend to
her that she is getting better.
Before dying she calls all her father's slaves together to bid them
adieu, and they all cry and mourn for her because she is loved by all.
When death comes, she is ready:
A bright, a glorious smile passed over her face, and she said,
brokenly, -"O! love, -joy, -peace!" gave one sigh, and passed from
death unto life! (Chapter 26)
Eva lives in a world where the injustice of slavery is a daily affront
to her sense of right and wrong. She cannot be a hypocrite, nor
acceptingly cynical (like her father); she won't do or say anything to
hide the fact that she considers blacks equally worthy as whites.
Because she is so purely good, she feels she has no place in the world,
I think (I have no quotations here to support this (yet), but I think
it is implicit in the text). She does not want to live in a world where
unfairness and injustice reign. So her illness is not a shock to her,
or a disappointment. She looks forward to death, welcomes it, because
it is a place more just than the world she is leaving...
Well, I agree. Even if death isn't the Christian death (angels and
gates of pearl, etc.), it is likely a place that is more fair and just
than here. (Especially if death is nothingness, because that guarantees
absolute equality for everything...) So I feel like Eva: I want to die,
too, because of the widespread injustice I see all around me; and
because of my inability to do anything to change that injustice...
(The difference between Eva and me is that I am not a beautiful girl
and well-loved by all. Also I don't rely on scripture for my proofs of
what is unjust in this world.)
I like Eva's attitude: she wants to die, she longs to die! She only
regrets the effect her death will have on her family and friends. So
she tries to prepare them, explain to them that she is happy to die,
that she welcomes death. She tries to get them to see it is not a sad
thing but a good thing. (Only Uncle Tom, I think, sees her point.)
In the same way, I am trying to show you, dear reader, how my death is
not to be lamented or considered a waste or sad or whatever. Those are
all just hypocritical platitudes that try to paper over the truth
(which is: since I cannot lie or be hypocritical, and am not so
talented or beautiful that I can get away with telling the truth when I
see injustice, I will never be happy in this world).
Best would be to have legal suicide centers! Make your decision, let
your family/friends know if you want, let them have their say to try to
dissuade you. If they don't change your resolve, go in, at your leisure
choose the method and time and place of your death. Make it a
well-planned, peaceful, fear-free event (if that is to your liking). No
need to tweak on correct dosages, whether someone will find you before
you're done, what your family will think when they find out, etc. Of
course you would be able to change your mind right up to the final
moment...
What arguments, other than emotional, are there against this view?
I bet Eva would agree with me. (Actually probably not, because she is so Christian. St. Clare would agree with me though!)
Reasons...
Reasons why r should partner with me:
- I won't mistreat her
- I have some money
- I can help her, if she wants, to stablize
- I am interesting, intelligent
- With the right woman, I could go right to the top
- she could give me confidence
- I can show her how to enjoy her highs more: Managed use. Don't
tweak as much. Go where you don't constantly have to watch your back.
- I am free, not a robot. Freedom has greater rewards.
Reasons why R should not go for me:
- I am a worthless, spineless, embarrassing piece of shit
- no one downtown likes me
- everyone sees me as easy to take advantage of, gullible
- I can't protect her - physically cowardly
- I don't have enough money to make it worthwhile
- I am ugly and stick out like a sore thumb
- I am geeky and make her nervous
- I probably couldn't fuck her like she likes
- There are hundreds (thousands? millions? billions?) of guys richer, better looking, more self-confident
- I suck as a hustler
- I am spastic
Dream
I had a dream last night that raquel has left me: I mean, that she's
found someone (the old bearded guy she's supposed to have been hanging
with lately?) and the chances of us ever getting together have ceased
to exist.
I don't know if it's true, i just record it because that thought came
to me over the psychic continuum, so I wanted to record it.
Makes me want to work more on ai, to build a replacement for her...
No sex
I've been reading The Hobbit, for the first time. It was always too
"popular" or well-known before for me to pick it up, I harbored a
suspicion against it due to its having been read by so many. But having
the time now, and being in the library so much, I decided my geek
credentials could use some shoring up.
I'm enjoying it of course. I think what I like best is that there are
no women (two-thirds of the way through) and sex is not a factor. Even
when they're feasting, the dwarves and hobbit among themselves or with
elves or Beorn or men, no women are described...
It's also interesting to see how Mr. Baggins gradually loses his
innocence, starting with Gollum in the Goblin caves, whom he lies to or
at least withholds information about the found ring of invisibility
from, then continuing his concealment with the dwarves and Gandalf. I
think the point of no return is where he kills - the giant spiders.
Then in the Wood-elves' caves he steals food and devises tricks, and
finally we read, after the escape from the Wood-elves (p. 199):
"He no longer thought twice about picking up a supper uninvited if he
got the chance, he had been obliged to do it for so long, and he knew
now only too well what it was to be really hungry, not merely politely
interested in the dainties of a well-filled larder."
He's "broken", of his innocence at least, by this point, I think.
It reminds me of raquel and the other crackheads I knew. Raquel once
said to me (in the Ho-Jo after our first fuck where I actually came) -
"just like I snapped you, and that's a fact" - while talking about how
her supposed broken leg had happened. (I think it was all lies, I think
she actually was in the hospital for a bleeding abcess, but somehow was
compelled to lie to me that she had been hit and broke her leg.) She -
and all of them - take great pleasure in "breaking" people, they view
it as an accomplishment, something to brag about - how many people
they've fucked with, broken, how many "jugs" they've cracked. But did
she "snap" me? Depends on what you measure it by I guess - if she means
that I now have no money, no job, no friends, etc. then I suppose she's
right. But then again money, job, friends have never been very
important to me, and I have spent most of my life without any of
those...I think she meant that she had made me, or had put me in a
position where I would soon be, like her and her friends: criminals,
hustlers, liars, snitches, cheats, performing sexual favors for their
crack, etc. Making me abandon my principles so that I no longer would
think twice about stealing, like Bilbo Baggins - those were the real
stakes, that was what she and them really meant when they talked of
"breaking", "snapping" me...and on that account, they failed; for I do
not steal, even when I've been given the opportunity. I haven't
progressed as far as Bilbo Baggins, I still think twice about "picking
up a supper uninvited" or crack uninvited or whatever, and I don't do
it. Raquel failed to break me. Hah!
* DEEP SEX
The sky opens its irresistible arms
saying, You will remember me
as deeper than sleep. The beginning,
for there is one, is always simple:
a prairie edged with trees that close
like a door behind you.
The path rises and falls like the body
of a woman, a man, then suddenly branches.
Stay calm, the sky counsels,
there is no need to choose,
you can follow them all at the same time
and here there is no such word as lost.
Soon you are so deep
reason disappears like a bird into thick foliage,
daily life stalls,
your son's face blurs
although you swore you would never forget him.
Is this the time to mention the man
nearly double your weight
who travels inside your body,
the exchange of breath,
or the tremors that mock the branch
where the flown bird lit?
If you care to look, you will see nothing,
but this you already know
as you know his eyes have deepened
to a certain shade of green you willingly enter
as if it were a place.
You feel there is no end to this:
you feel it as a violet sky
burning down the edges of the Earth,
you feel it pathless, rolling like prairie
past the shallow islands of the clouds,
out past every undiscovered planet,
you feel it as a failure of language,
as absence, deep space
that offers the eye no place to stop.
* TOURNAMENT OF DESTRUCTION
Kuro-queue Speedway
No one's here for the polite processional
and so we cheer the sudden end of protocol
when drivers rev their souped-up engines
in a look-at-me strut,
firing as unpredictably as love.
slowly the red sky darkens.
Lights go up around the oval track
like the circuitry of sexual excitement
waking the nerves. When the serious music
of speed begins, thousands
of cubic inches of adulterated power
vibrate the wooden bleachers
and every paying customer
tracks its course up his spine,
up and around the thrilled muscle
of his heart. Crazily
the cars blur sideways into the first curve,
pitching fist-sized chunks of clay
off the track, and obligingly
you lean into me. That, too, addresses my heart
like your absence when you lean away
as you must at the next curve,
the warm rub of shoulder to shoulder
gone suddenly cool. The cars circle
in dust so thick we eat it, take it in
to veil the eye, torment the inner ear,
and I think how we, too, repeat
our ceremony of injury.
Little wonder this place speaks to you,
you who are never anywhere except in motion,
you who cannot get enough of speed,
you with your habit of anarchy --
no sleep, bad food, the reckless
disarray you call home, no wonder
you understand the object
is not catch and hold but chase and pass
after the brief neck and neck of parallels
as again one car slips up against another
and they touch down the full length
of their bodies and race that way at breakneck speed
until metal tears like paper
calling into question an old idea of safety
and one of them pulls free
with only the track ahead,
blank as the sky, unbridled.
※ 最后修改者:nunia, 修改于:2008-04-06 21:01:34 ※
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