Sel and Gol

So this arch overlaps worlds and it bridges the gap between realities. What’s underneath it though? Well, nothing, the end of all stories. A bleak land of white washed energy. Absence of good and evil. That’s where he’s from!

Sel comes from the crack in the sky. The endless void the exists beneath the Marble Arch into another world. There are billions of realities, spiraling backward from the core. At the core is Sel’s Mother, The Highest Host. She sustains it all, man. She sustains everything. She is the beating heart of existence. Without Her, we’re finished.

We live in a world that we see from our perspectives, look beyond. I urge you, please. Just look past what you see. Look up and see the Rainwalker watching us, see the ships that travel in and out of light speeds above our atmosphere. See the demi-gods and demi-goddesses that do battle in the skies just above our heads. Go to Manhattan and witness Sel battle Gol above the rooftops.

Look deeper, think harder. Everyday life? Well, man, it’s an illusion.

I haven’t used…

I haven’t used this in a few forevers, is anyone alive out there?

Laughing Loosely, and Liberally

I had a costumer today that stumbled through all of our pastries and asked what each one was. She even asked what a ‘scone’ was. She wasn’t even that young really, nor was she one of the trashy rich chicks that hang out with the pretty boys that don’t speak a lick of the King’s English.

Whenever a costumer comes in like that it’s just so random, cause most of our clientele know what they’re getting, even the stupid little teenagers. She stopped making coherent sense after a while and started to ramble about this new Walmart that was being built that didn’t have a gas station. I was genuinely interested cause I didn’t know Wally Worlds had gas stations. I haven’t been to one in a long time. She was talking about a long line that ran around this Magical Walmart on the Mount. My coworker who is pretty tall was crouched down laughing behind the bar and the sight of him losing it made me border on cracking up myself. All those years of theatre I took while in high school actually became sort of useful in that moment.

As soon as I finished ringing her out I walked straight into the back room and just fell over laughing. My coworker joined me and we just laughed and laughed and laughed. I don’t think I have laughed that much in ages, and it felt almost surreal since I’m usually pretty quiet. I literally had tears from laughter which is something I don’t think I’ve achieved before.

It felt really good to laugh though. Like an old friend that I’ve missed. A familiar smell. Odd.

Our Space Program Sucks

Man, I just can’t find any motivation this week. I’m so bland and tired, and I could really give two fucks about anything. Plus, I’m all alone during the lunar eclipse, which isn’t how any young gentleman wants to spend the event. I’ve had the worst writer’s block, which just stinks in four languages.

I need more than a major caffeine boost to get me going. I figure I might go see the new Woody Allen film tonight, to get my mind off things. Maybe even get a cup of coffee, since I’ve weened myself off of my addiction a couple weeks ago.

I’m really damn close to just becoming an astronaut. I can learn how to fire a ray gun, no problem. I just don’t want to be cold.

D.

If I had an orchard, I’d work till I’m sore.

I want to buy a cottage, near a wide blue lake. I can picture it, like a painting. I’d have a huge garden to peruse, and low hanging fruit to eat. The only real light I’d need is that from the stars, and maybe the moon. Hell, I could even capture lightening bugs to use for reading lamps. Remember those? Oh, don’t worry, I’d release them by day.

I’d be content, with you; just you really. I’ll even learn to cook, just as long as you make the tea, my lady.

D.

Branded by the light.

This morning, I was surrounded by a crowd of people at a tattoo parlor. Everyone was looking through this large leather bound book of abstract images. What I gathered from them, was that they were choosing a “god”. I guess after deciding on a deity, we would be branded with it’s symbol.

The gentleman who was in charge gave me quite a hard time, and I eventually got acquainted with the cross of Brigid. Instantly I felt safe, wrapped in Her loving and ancient embrace. I then began my leave and turned to watch the others.

At first it seemed like a fairly general procedure, like any basic inking. Eventually it began to look like red-hot irons were being used. The people around me literally were being branded. Oddly, I didn’t find this to be a frightening experience, but more of a Tower of Babel scenario. Instead of speaking differing languages, we received different ideologies and would be forced to carry it around for eternity. Luckily I chose well.

I have odd dreams.

D.

Tuesday Tunes.

Communication Error

Man, no one really talks anymore.

No, I’m not a stuffy old shirt with a clenched fist to the youth, I’m serious. When was the last time you called someone, or may the gods forbid, wrote a letter? All this texting and tweeting, it makes my head hurt. I don’t text, not anymore at least. I used too, way too much. Now the way I see it is this; if a chap wants to get in-touch with you, let the fucker dial a number. I shouldn’t be a click away, I’m a human not a homepage.

It just seems like there exists no filter between brain and mouth. We, as a culture, document every thing we do; every blasted thing. Do I really need to know that my neighbor’s new girlfriend, Amy, is psyched for her spa trip? Do I give a shit? Does Little Amy’s feverish trip to the spa and subsequent massage, really hold an iota of meaning in my life? Sure, I may sound cruel, but I’m being completely honest. It sickens me to see this society become a bunch of introverted little wretches that don’t think anymore. I may be sounding a bit harsh, but I say this with a lot of love. How can we have another Shakespeare, when all Billy would be doing is tweeting to Laura?

Since giving up a phone and all the likes, I’ve heard from a severely decreasing number of friends. Since I’m not a click away, I cannot be reached. Sure, I blog and I (sadly) Facebook, but I guess I’m utterly unreachable. That is, to be quite frank and honest, fucking sad. I mean, that’s what technology has given us, weak minded individuals that need to be gratified instantly. No one works for anything, no one sits down to write. Gods forbid someone purchases a film instead of torrenting the bugger. It has to be instant. Everyone wants to be profound, but can’t find anything profound around them.

They all want to be an artist, that’s the name of the game these days. Everyone thinks they can write, and everyone thinks they can paint, and everyone thinks they have some kind of genius. It’s just how it goes. Sadly, less than 20% of those folks actually produce anything worthy of the label “Art”. I mean, shit, I’m no artist. I never really said I was; I wouldn’t mind being called one, but I don’t believe I am. No sir. So all these kids with their noses stuck in their flip phones need to take a peak at the setting sun once in a while. Maybe, and just maybe, they can create the “Art” everyone is always hammering for. I sure fucking hope so.

Hey, I’m to blame as well. I’m here, blogging away in my self aggrandizing need to be heard. Still, my point is valid.

No one even talks anymore. Who needs to anyway?

-D.

the gifts of giving

I saw a homeless man today, outside of a department store. There was a big sign advertising their sales and it read “GIVE THE GIFT OF GIVING”, and ironically this chap was sleeping underneath it. It kind of caught me, the juxtaposition of that.

‘Give the gift of giving’.

What does that mean? Christmas has grown into just lots of rushing and lots of spending, and that’s sad. This is the time of year when we are supposed to be looking out for our fellow men. It’s not about just family, it’s about being human and feeling connected. I wonder what that means in today’s world. It seems like Christmas has become an extension of Capitalism.

It was rather cold today and I decided to walk a lot, clear my head. I’ve been working a story out in my noggin that I’ve grown inspired to write. Sadly the thing that was inspiring me just came to an end, and without the closure I need to work out the story with, I’m screwed. So I decided to take off and go somewhere new and fresh. We’ll see how it pans out. Also, I’m hoping to feel that good ol’ Christmas spirit. It hasn’t hit me yet and I wonder if it will before the clock strikes 12 on Christmas Eve.

What do you guys think? What are you up to early this season?

D.

Song of the long, cold night.

The Decemeberists; the band that sounds like a Wes Anderson film.

Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

D.