Yonder Lies It

Daylight becomes nightfall
wheels spinning on end
woke up today

I’ve been reading some books concerning the Victorian period in my Autobiography class such as Edward Gosse’s Father and Son, Harriet Jacob’s Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl and a chapter in the book Eminent Victorians called Florence Nightingale and it strikes me how much the Christian Judeo faith is steeped into the very essence of the writing. One is made to take at face value what it is said, and even if there is a slight chance of disbelief atestaments are provided. As if being thoroughly religious gave one the power to be in the ”Truth” as it were. There wasn’t any doubt about one’s follies and every event is attributed to Almighty God. One feels the scrutiny under which these peoples characters are being put through, not so different to modern censorship nor George Orwells 1984. It is perhaps no mischance then that people like George W Bush abide by such religions since it gives a structure, a mechanism by one can easily manipulate these sorts self observations under the watchful eye of God. It is also little wonder then that every dollar in the USA has Annuit Coeptis as it’s motto alongside a pyramid with an eye looking dead straight at one. For more info on this subject: back of the buck

Well, I’ve digresssed well off into something else more akin to conspiracies and left the Victorians in their little isle, but suffice to say, as regards the conciousness of these people who wrote autobiographies I can say that the very same sort of impulse that convinced them how to be is no doubt also the very same impulse that justified some of the worst cruelties in human mind. Which goes to prove that character managent that goes unchecked falls short of rotten.

Incredible, I finished my first e-book, I am now a full member of the cyber world!

Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl by Harriet Jacobs.

The book is a myriad of emotions uneasily untangled. One can discern several traces of Plato’s, The Apology and even Charlotte Brontí« Jane Eyre. This is the first time my skepticism is debunked from the high horse it usually sits on and for once I had a remorse every time a shadow casted doubt on the narrative. It seems hardly adequate to judge this book from an academic stand point and close reading seemed unneeded. At times, one was betrayed into easily accept the arguments southerners put forth for the kindness they expressed to their slaves only to later realize that one was siding with the devil itself!

The limousine approached us in cover of darkness and as I opened the doors, I saw that Victor was already seated next to Senator Foxtrite. We had planned to smuggle ourselves out of the country by these means, it meant a good deal of cash, but well worth it. My earlier suspicions dissipated as the blue license plates became visible as the car approached us. Opening the door was like entering a new life and closing them akin to shutting out the terrible mares we went through to get here. When the limo drove to the border, the customary wave to go ahead was given. No sane soldier would dare detain this car. It would mean an international outcry of sorts. Imagine, detaining the limousine of the first superpower! So as we saw the lights grow dimmer and dimmer, Senator Foxtrite became anxious. ”Where’s the Intel?” He asked. We both looked at him, and showed him that the info had been surgically implanted in Victors left side arm, for security reasons, near the veins. The Senator didn’t flinch, he made a few phone calls, and before we knew it Victor was under the knife to remove the Intel. ”You’ve done a great service to the country boys!” He exclaimed. Later on, as the news hit the airwaves, we saw the consequences of the intel, we caused the invasion of Astonia.

The scar the operation left in Victor’s left arm was still visibly to this day, and as we sat drinking our whiskies, he asked me ”so what of you’ve been doing lately?” I didn’t have the heart to tell him the many covert ops I had been sent to ever since our last op and him being discovered as a double agent. I knew how much he strove after action. I looked at him and said ”not much, I spent yesterday eating chocolate and drinking whiskey all day, you though?” He stared, for a second, guessing by my appearance that I was most likely lying. Remaining silent he continued watching the tv, cracking peanuts between his fingers, a sign we in the business use to pretend we are locals when in reality we are about to infiltrate.

Today brings new life
Our dying self expires
We kiss goodbye forever
A new self arrives

Thinking we them rid
Hid indeed they did
For habits remain insistingly
Or we but mourn?

No more to be (sayeth we)
Yet ghosts linger on
Possesing our newfound selves
Ensuing us into battle

Our memories bristly live
Failing farewell bid them
Old remains reminding us
To bury our intentions

There is a zone in the soul that allows for the imagination to wonder about, free, from this mundane world. It is easily accessed by closing your eyes and using for background the vastness of the universe, you can find yourself somewhere else. You know the background can either be a star filled space or simply space itself in all its vacuum. You can imagine your self in the position of Da Vinci’s famous vitruvian drawing or the classic yoga lotus position either way the vastness of space does not allow for floors or descend nor ascend. There you are One with our sentient universe. Alone, in all the spiritual glory of soul over mind. However, today I came into contact with another similar environment with the exception that this was produced by light. As I sat in my chair, doing my usual writing chores, the heat of the sun summoned me to pay more attention to this early spring sign and as I faced it, I couldn’t help but blink and in this split second I saw how equal these environments can be. The exception being that I deem the universe more void and thus devoid of light so that at any moment there is more denudation, thus darkness, than light, hence my conclusion that I think the latter somewhat superficial. When my inner sight saw this new milieu I was awe struck because of the endlessness of it. The coloring was more cheerful so that, yellow, orange and reddish hues abounded, one could even see, and as you can imagine better than I can describe, what microbiologists see in their microscopes, with the exception of course, that these where probably liquids from my retina. The benefit, that I reasoned, was that this was more of a playing ground. So today I sunbathed a while, basking in the heat of the spring, soaking in warmth winter had denied me.

It felt good.

Reading now: Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl

Hate network
covers darkness
futile escape
eyes everywhere

ye of hope
run to me
embrace will I
your precious ambition

Even if you’re caught
lashing out lasting pain
the hate network dies
everytime you freedom try

the pain and memory remains
in our crying swelling hearts
when read do we today
of slaves of white men

Like any other soul in the face of the planet I tend to favor the noises one would call music. However, being tricultural doesn’t necessarily help and being the kind of person the way I am one tends to favor all sorts of music, so that at any giving time, I tend to like more than I dislike. Thus I often find myself either listening to Salsa,Tango, Mexican corridos, Sicilian maffia music or regular radio mixes that everyone else is more or less familiar with and even unfamiliar like Classical music and Opera; or my older stuff like punk rockers Sex Pistols, Broken Bones, Exploited, GBH, Circle Jerks and industrial genres going from KMFDM, Ministry, Skinny Puppy, Revolting Cocks, Front Line Assembly, Front 242, Numb,Borghesia and the Klinik to the Cure, Orquestral Maneuvers in the Dark, Gene Loves Jezebel, The The, Ride and of course, kings of pop, the Smiths and Morrissey. (The list can go on and on ….) Let us not forget the Swedish arena, whose Dans samples I often find quite soothing as my ranchero music except these songs tend to have a folklore flavour that somehow manages to get me closer to an understanding of the Swedish soul in Sm?land. Kent, who, doesn’t like Kent? and Dark Metal Scene is also good here in Sweden, that too is a superbly delicious candy I soak in every now and then like Opeth!

Although I’ve been neglecting a sorts tills now, Techno, I am about a Zillion years behind, so that now a days a find myself doing loads of downloads, getting up to date so to speak. My personal faves are Blue Six (New York) and The Chrystal Method (California) and in that am behind about a year or so having just recently found out about them. Its tough keeping up with this music since its very nature requires constant change. Yes, I read other blogs and it seems that it is a constant topic among bloggers to discuss music preferences so that here is my 20 year preferences in music. Three languages and three cultures give much fodder for the ear. PS: I will try and add comments from now on whenever I read other peoples stuff …

Get used it, it’s life. Nothing else can be done. In all its drudge and monotony, it’s life, so get over it. People really actually don’t see this but there you have it, in all its splenders and wonders in every sunset and every nightfall, you couldn’t ask for more. Yet people dream on, they want adventures. ”Ah you’re just jealous mate!” Nonsense, What is it that big city dwellers yearn after the most? A little respite. What is it that attracts them the most? Trees and solitude. Ironically, the small town folk yearn after the very same thing city people abhor. Yes, I could be tinging my words with a little rue, but in all its raw aspect, there is a layer of truth you cannot deny me. However, I must confess that it is that very same rutine that causes the most excitement. Rutine gives the unexpected a level of emotional high that one does find surprising and agreable. Although, there are far more rutine days in any given lifetime than there are eventful ones. ”Hilarious!” ”I object!” You’ve been watching too much L.A Law, I see. Get up and start picking up the dirty dishes, and I’ll start vacuuming, then maybe, just maybe, we can go out for an ice cream. ”Ice cream, You scream, We all scream” Ah shut up already! You’re making me laugh. Hurry up, I don’t wanna spend more time than I have to cleaning up this mess.

The resemblence was unique, it couldn’t of been otherwise. The beauty surpassed everything I have seen. It was what the greeks call kheir and our atom scientists chiral two of the same, in essence, and this was chirality. I took one good look and I was dead ceartin this was the One. In my life I’ have been waiting for this unconciously, here it is, at last! It came as transperant as daylight, I saw with my soul’s eye her illuminating aura; although some rather wait for rainbows to see what’s in the light. What is it about a person outer looks that allow for inner, closer introspection? It’s right there, and no matter what this encounter is, its always marked by the rapture that the presence manages to perform on another soul. In the mythology of the ancient budhas it is said that reincarnation brings back the soul in several life cycles. My former lover perhaps? The attraction is inescapable, I am drawn to this human being. What is curious about this event is how not my blood burns but something yet deeper than that, it tingles beneath all forms of carnal sensory to the point of some sort of minor spiritual attraction with all the sensuality attached to it. I observe, become observed, we recognize our souls and at once we know who we are, we don’t introduce ourselves, we talk as if our conversation had been merely cut off yesterday or an hour ago. I see through and at once I am at ease. The sun sets down, the shops close, and the last customer leaves and time goes by, we remain, star spangled in the circle of life.