Inside The Vanishing Room
March 28th 2014
V-Room no 7834274626527
V this *maybe one day I will write* maybe one day I will somehow validate my existence as an intellectual. fuck. people ask me if I’m published? the fuck do you mean? Paper, paper fuck. cloth bound. shall I sell you my slippers? what coin can you throw at me on a street corner? I make it difficult like any hero in any novel or any story you have ever cared about dynamic tension and cut palm realness even faking it.
B I’ve heard tales of people who have tails but never believed them
V breathing 321 the adrenaline flees. they are nice. I can’t even smile an honest smile. I wake with the fear of being false inside.
B Fear and desires are two ends of the same burning candle.
V I remain the pixie king. I woke up where the kids grow strong with the prince knife on my throat. to show me something.
B Dad fashioned a Cat ‘O 9 Tails from a razor strop and when their tails would sing, I’d hop, with always an extra lick for luck.
V don’t save me. I make water boots out of oak trees. the candle at both ends. I’ll put that in my pipe and smoke it. ❤ ^x.X^ You are someone I respect quite a lot @Biorski. what are you telling me? I am self-flagellating? . uhhhhh ? been a late nite? thx
B Not an analyst, but you seem to be struggling for something that is trying to come out. It is best to just get it out of the way
V no. actually my friend. you are here where no one else is. maybe at some point I’ll do the skeleton dance and vanish into thorns never took it as judging. that for the pixie king. do you know the story of ((he stood on the city walls and no arrows hit him)) and to be quite honest,,, I AM beating my breast like a silverback. it’s fearsome. what happens next is the deserving ones rest.
B To quote one of my favorite authors, Jerzy Kosinski, “I like to watch.” No, it sounds interesting. Have you ever seen the work or Richard Dadd? I firmly believe in full-out, vomitous logorrhea followed by vigorous editing.
V this is something. my faith in this story rest upon a picture in a book.
B Dadd was a resident of Bedlam, put in after killing his father, he claimed to see pixies, sprites, gnomes, etc. & painted ’em. I saw an exhibition of Dadd at the Tate in London in the 70’s and it’s haunted me ever since. Dadd saw little people dude.
V wowza. I am a self created . I never got beat or raped or squelched. I have feminist oval (typo) demonistically …..:…: made myself into a thing that knows nothing of (((((I can’t even say that. loved. coddled. treasured. all. ))))
B I respect that and as the current market goes, the farther from ordinary, the better. I am just obsessed with ordinary stuff.
V the only thing that has eluded me is sanity and wealth. and I mistrust both the like. I hope dadd had nice edges somewhere. I’ve grown up with the legend of my alchy forbearer, my fear is ……. growing rigid and complacent and sinking into a pattern of being which, like many other things in my life are true myths.
B His was quite a story and who knows what he saw. You have a story to tell, good luck with the telling.
V ordinary ain’t my thing. i have read you many many times and what I like is how you manage the ordinary with an extraordinary hand
B If you produce a lot, much of it will be unworthy, but in the whole, their will be good stuff and you can make that better
V thank you. I will look up Dadd. I don’t feel like picking up my guts at this point. can still read tho. even as I flail and gnash.
B If you think about it, carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, that’s all we are, the ordinary stuff of ordinary stars His paintings of fairy weddings and elves swinging on dewy spiderweb strings are inspiring.
V none of it ordinary. like you said. some people are born without eyelids
B Why do the blind where sunglasses? So you won’t be distracted, by them.
V yes truly. sunglasses on me are like jewels on a peacock. I am better in shackles like Harrison Bergeron. even that is 2grotesque. it’s what happens to the molecules. my table is wood. straight hydrocarbon. also the concrete floor. I am a vessel for my soul. his gnomes and webs were coverlets for what he saw. convention and the attrition of life plagued him. ((pure projection cribbing)) I will try to find the illustration that inspires me to have faith from a dead fable ridden with ugly churches. i fancy myself so.
B Inspiration is merely “to breathe in” and one can be “inspired” by a breeze, especially a fresh wind up from a riparian woods.
V images like this had a bold effect on me when I was 3 (((still searching for the one that inspires me))) this is mormon the patriarch before he hides the plates thanks for the reminder. language sets me even. I lived learning Latin. and English. still . that plate eludes me. pissed
ooooooooo!!!!! this is a good painting. I need to hush for awhile and ketchup. what got me? he wasn’t afraid.
because what happens, like daniel in the furnace, the person says what needs to be said. it gets said.
B You sound like someone who has known since an early age they were not commonplace. Celebrate that.
V I am *not yet anyway tho I do make many strides on the freaky side of /:: being a self-styled nightmare*I don’t know what else to say for now. it’s ugly. uncomfortable for me. telling. it’s telling. nothing much frightens me. even speaking like this in a vast room of skeptics who loathe notions of, I could lick the devil’s nape and be happily received. honestly I feel like all this excoriation, yep. like you said in the beginning, this agitation needs cut open else I perish false.
B I have little time for gods or their fallen sons, I spend my time with flowers and try to say centered on the light.
V this. it’s this one. middle of the book. around 30 mas o menos advent. this one resonated with me jeremiah not daniel. easy to remember names with a picture. what i liked? he just left. from his peeps. had serious simple work. his work was to shout from the rooftops. that’s where it comes from. that phrase. all truth shall be shouted from the rooftops. three year old me… yep. who cares. I never cared about people. ya know? people are people. church is boring.
B Am I wrong or is his side losing anyway?That reminds me of Giadarno Bruno, follow this link to a poem about his death. http://t.co/m713WxB3DM
V well captured. much love. the flesh calls. the brain hurts. the eyes weep. i’m well practiced in this tho.
B The answers lie within yourself.