Three of Poetry (Creativity): “I must Create a System, or be enslav’d by
another Mans I will not Reason & Compare: my business is to Create”. A
creative opportunity presents itself. A lucky break is in store for you.
Taking an imaginative or literary approach is favored. A revelation of truth
is at hand. All the pieces are falling into place. You achieve an
understanding that has far-reaching implications. In the creative process:
You get the go-ahead to “do your thing”; your project has special blessing
at this time because of your ability to see an overview or get the big
picture.
Eight of Painting (Discipline): Proper pacing or management of your workload or time. Taking control of a difficult situation. Following the lead of a mentor or inner guide. A need for physical assessment and self-improvement. Seek appropriate education and training. Step-by-step progress. Diligence and perseverance. Tackling a mountain of work. In the creative process: Even though you may have a long way to go, a methodical approach incorporating guidance and training will ultimately lead you to the top.
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Month: August 2004
Holy Fuck
I finally managed to ruin a Volvo…
Stupid Happy Creature (bibliomancy of the day)
Random Yeats Passage (from “Demon and Beast”):
“Being no more demonaic a stupid happy creature could rouse my whole nature.
.chilled blood this sweetness brought; yet have no dearer thought than that
I may find out a way to make it linger half a day…”
Corbid’s Blog: Exponential Detritus
Sweetness makes excuses
All I want for the rest of my life is lemon drops and Beatles songs and rain…
Lactate Intolerant
Sweetness lingers in spite of false threat of suffocation. He keeps lots of
pillows in case someone might want to smother him. All she ever wanted was
photos for the yearbook, scraps for the scrapbook, pieces for the quilt.
Someday it’ll all be just mementos in a tea tin, and dolls in a heart shaped
box. Someday she’ll be eating the dust and cursing the grave. Bracing for the
day he doesn’t come back, inevitable as monsoon rain, another price to pay,
another heartbreaking work of genius. When you die can I have your shadow?
Written in stone, written in ink, written in a name that cannot be erased. Said
aloud it becomes a story and all stories have inevitable endings. I’m wishing
for a John Irving epilogue but prophesy a Leonard Cohen afterworld. A heart is
just a vital organ, and I’m used to having those removed. A thousand years from
now it’ll just be me and the cockroaches immortal and living in the ruins.
Someday I’ll escape to tell the tale. Someday I’ll write the gospel of the
name. Till then I am harvesting the milk of human kindness. Drink deep and be
forgiven, a babe at the breast and innocent again. I want nothing and I am
nothing but all the nothing that I am is yours to lean on. I know you’ll take
my secrets to the grave. It’s all just words, it doesn’t have to make sense, it
just has to sound pretty.
inaction speaks louder than words
When Christ said unto his apostles “This is my body, take and eat” perhaps it was just a round about way of saying “bite me, Judas.”
Convenience stores apparently sell just about everything these days.
http://www.members.cox.net/corbid/exponentialdetritus.html
The world’s address, a place that’s worn…
Billboard I saw recently: “The world doesn’t have a suggetion box.”
If it did, my first suggestion would be to institue corporal punishment for people who compose trite billboard slogans.
Thought for the day: Are eternal penitents housed in eternal penitentiaries?