Where are the mystery twins? The goddess/god beings that make the universal chump machine break apart. Wonder, the total sense of earth shell cracking open and releasing the great worm Dragon. We the humans of the last sphere can wait as the seas grow in power and the ice melts.
I have started this several times, I don’t know why but I seem to be out of words, or out of humor. I am back in school but I am hating it, not school, just this thick molasses like reality I am living in. Energy drained, I vegetate in front of the TV, or attempt to sleep but toss and turn and wish I had good drugs but I only have the prescriptions from Kaiser. I go to school and feel myself becoming more and more alienated as my age becomes an evident problem. Health issues come up and I see that I am going to have to drop another class. I will never get out of this Jr. College at this rate.
What am I doing here? Waiting to die evidently. I cannot simply sit on the sidelines so called educating myself. This is simply an excuse not to participate in life. I have to make my presence felt again. I have so little time left and so much to accomplish.
I have wasted half a year fooling around with lovers who had no interest in me, just wanted to use me. It was a transparent waste although I did get to spend time with some real beauty. But beauty that is literally only skin deep is ultimately boring. No conversation allowed except those that revolved around admiring the beauty in front of my face. Watching the beauty leave to be admired by an audience of hundreds, perhaps thousands is a daily ritual. It was not beauty for me, but I was for the beauty and I as an ego filled human have no desire to be beauties clown. As much as I enjoy being in the presence of real porn star quality good looks, it simply is not enough to keep my mind occupied. I would rather be with imperfect appearance with an active mind rather than pure unadulterated beauty all the time.
It is said men fought over beauty, Helen of Troy. But I am not sure about that. I am sure that men are fascinated by beauty, and the possibility of its existence, but there is little to say for beauty that is not filled out by the other graces. That is why the princesses of old and even the daughters of wealth now, who have beauty have also conversation skills, and understand something of the world, the modern beauty maybe a princess but she also can be a math wiz. Ultimately though most beauty desires to be upon the pedestal where it can be admired from afar. Don’t get too close to beauty, except on the rare occasion when she deems herself willing to touch her prince charming, or her generous provider, but mostly she is upon her throne, looking down with a faint smile upon her adoring audience.
I don’t go in for such static dreams, I had my summer of pedestal love, and it was, well, semi entertaining. But now I am simply without reason to admire it. I have broken the looking glass where I saw myself as worthy of her, and realized that I am not that man, I am simply not. I am other. Somewhere between the fool and the priest, the trickster and the story teller is the self that I am, a dreaming iconoclast. There will never be a place for me in this world of material substance because I am not wholly here. Yet to live as if that was true would be to be some kind of whiner, the Miniver Cheevy’s of the world. Oh to never have been faced with that in Junior High School. The presence of the failure, the man who would not try because the world was not perfect enough for him, oh how it was instilled in my brain that it would be better to die trying than to be a fop. New England positivism, out here in California it has become test scores and fear of aliens. A life of Walmart shopping and Walmart jobs; I have seen the future and it is not ours, it is theirs. We can resist, we can wail and we can retrain until our brains are bugging out, but as long as they control the world, those who have access to beauty, those who have the thrones of this world in their hands, those few, the mighty few, they will inherit what is worthy of keeping from this earth as we are left with the debris of the attempt at democratic rule. There is no more time for democracy; there is only manipulation, fear and war.
Eh. I here there was a riot in the factory that makes Apple products in China. The slaves arise. Perhaps a Chinese Spartacus will arise and avenge the millions of wage slaves, kill a few of Crassus’s friends; that will get them to sweat. But Helen does not sweat. She is upon her pedestal, awaiting her generous benefactor since there are no more prince charming’s in this world.