05.Feb.2003
this is no longer enough
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reiteration
I refuse to take you to the spectrum of sub-par, what-I-did-today updates, even though my schedule is engulfed with sub-par 'dear-god-I-am-doing-more-than-I-usually-do' events. Restless but unmoving. It's 6:11 in the morning. Insomnia breeds the antsiness breeds the madness breeds the 'vapidly-chewing-on-fingernails'ness.
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I want to be consumed. I want to be intoxicated. I want to be inspired. I want to be moved. Pin this incessant pensiveness to the wall, bend it over this tired, mahogany desk of text, this disheveled bed of insipid tedium and fuck it until it can't remember its name.
Wake up your fucking, insentient heart and bring us to life.
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Debates on God and love and textual promises. These are the fading street-lamps of our psyches. These are the bromidic volumes of philosophy we've mentally devoured. This is the consuming immobility of our knowledge.
Words and time, warmth, candles, Goethe and misled, teenaged romance. Mahler and stretching the A-chord until my lungs expand and collapse, neutron stars, this is what it feels like.
Pick up your lighters and your needles and your knives. Kiss your sons and lovers; divide us all in military pieces. Preserve the debris. Unleash the Armageddon. Do not heed our warnings, turn your ears and exhale, and this will never end.
Forget everything you know about adoration. Forget everything you know about animosity. Forget everything you know about work. Forget everything you know about moderation. Forget everything you know about the cookie-cutters of society. Forget everything you know about absolution, change, fear, sex, lust, music. Forget everything you know about your misguided past and your history, your eruptions and disasters, forget everything you know about depression, powerful vasoconstrictors and hospitals, Catholic school-girl uniforms and the pungent, Tuesday afternoon lab scent of formaldehyde.
Forget the hindrances of the doldrums and the agitation of indigestion, and transcend vibrantly this hindering plane.
We have to be consumed, we have to be intoxicated, we have to be inspired, we have to be moved, and we have to be fucked.
I am breaking from this constricting, proverbial box with a teeth-gritted vengeance, and I am taking you all with me.
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time & machine