Mon Sep 6 14:32:44 MDT 2004
Last night, after a brief stop at the ranch to return a couple of small items, drop off donations, and get info about helping Food Not Bombs, I made my way on to Rock Island. There was a part of me that really wanted to stick around at the ranch for the evening planning meeting that was to take place, but the whole vibe I got from people there suggested that maybe this wasn't the best night for a newbie like me to be there.
When I arrived at the club, I was glad I had come. The vibe this time around was much more relaxing than it had been last week, or at least it seemed so to me. Not as many rude obnoxious people, and more fun people. That was my perception.
I got to see Caustic Soul perform live, heard a lot of other dancably fun music, and met a few new and interesting characters. Oh, and I also had tons of fun making an idiot of myself again. Should I post highlights of my idiocy, or let it remain a secret to all except the few who witnessed it? (Those witnesses were probably so drunk that they won't remember anyway. Wait, scratch that. I think there were at least one or two who were so astoundingly sober that they caught me with my pants down, so to speak. lol.)
There are several little anecdotes I could post, but I'll just convey the final thing that happened before I left the club last night, in abstract, perhaps over-the-top terms. Here it is. A span of less than 5 minutes:
For someone in my position, there is nothing more enjoyable than being welcomed with open arms into a lesbian love circle pseudo-orgy to partake in the goodness. Literally.
But this comes at a price. Such an experience awakens a deeper hunger within -- one that is impossible to ignore. It causes me to I realize that I want more -- so much more -- and then I begin to get greedy. This greed, which cannot be hidden from those with whom one desires closeness, is instantly detected, and the circle begins to close itself off to me, while still offering small tokens born of affection. Or drunkenness. Who's to say?
The final blow comes when it becomes clear and obvious to all that I am, in fact, an outsider. Or worse, a vampire. Moments ago, she was a smiling, welcoming, beautiful stranger who introduced me to her friends, put her arms around my shoulders while I kissed and licked her tattoos, and offered me to her girlfriends to play with as well. Now, everything about her body language and facial expression tells me to just go away and disappear.
So I oblige. I am gone.
The moment of bliss. The sting of rejection. It all passes, and there is nothing left but fading memory. This is life, in all its visceral intensity. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Now, my soul departs once again.
The afternoon is half-over. What's happening?
Last night, I again slept longer and better than I had the previous nights. This would suggest to me that this so-called "manic episode" thing is truly winding down. (I hate the words they come up with to describe us. "mentally ill." Everything seems to have a derogatory connotation, thus inviting society to heap yet more denegration on us, and thus discredit anything that "we" say or do.)
While I suppose I'm glad that I'm not staying wired to the sky forever, I fear what will transpire in the weeks and months ahead. Will I turn into a depressed, inarticulate, incapable blob who can barely even find enough motivation to tie his own shoelaces? Please, let it not be so.
Activities so far today have included:
I could yack about the possible future of my life, and whether any of it makes coherent sense. But... wanting to step away from this terminal for a while again. Need to stand up, clear the mind, and again find a way to achieve peace while living within my own skin. If such a thing is possible.
Maybe I'll go to meditation class tonight too. Then again, maybe I won't, since I've become a little tired of constantly driving back and forth between Boulder lately. Over and out. For now.
P.S. One more thing, for people who want to contact me. I'm now suggesting that the most reliable way for readers of this website to get in touch with me via email is to send something to <bitscape AT gmail DOT com>. I know I've been hopping around to a lot of different addresses lately, telling people to use one, and then another, all in an effort to stay ahead of the cascading breakdown in communication methods. gmail is easy because I can check it from just about any place that has a web browser, it's not subscribed to a zillion mailing lists, isn't changing the required authentication scheme, doesn't (right now) have a huge backlog, and doesn't get spam (yet). I check it most frequently. That's all.
[Warning: Shameless Plug Ahead. I have not been paid in currency, but in the sounds which hypnotize my mind.]
Corporate-backed pop music became obsolete on the day that Indicia released their self-titled debut album without any help from the major labels. As I listen again, I cannot help but be swayed. Filled to the brim with sharply written, astoundingly produced tracks, it lays to shame everything the commercial media tries to pass off as "hip".
Corporate-backed pop music became obsolete on the day that Indicia released their self-titled debut album without any help from the major labels. As I listen again, I cannot help but be swayed. Filled to the brim with sharply written, astoundingly produced tracks, it lays to shame everything the commercial media tries to pass off as "hip".
Not even billion dollar production budgets could beat the sheer talent of Betsy Ullery and David Ward. Of course, on the other hand, it's a good bet that within a year or two, the corporate scene will find a way to bring them into its fold, one way or another; even if it just comes in the form of offering them a few million to use pieces of "Incomplete" as a soundtrack for a tv car commercial. Think Moby's path to fame.
Even if they sell out, the existence of their album proves that maybe, just maybe, the humans have an edge on the machines.
[As of this writing, all tracks from the album are still availble for download in genuine, full length mp3 format from the official Indicia website. I bought the cd a few months ago anyway so I could rip my own oggs, listen to it in my car, and also to remind myself that great things can be done without selling out. Let's hold on to that vision.]
20:25:29 MDT. Looking back inside the mind of madness. (Screenshot from last Wednesday.)
Artist: Tiamat. Track: Wings of Heaven.
The honest truth is that I'm still as crazy as ever. Always have been. But most of the time, I've learned how to keep it hidden, so people can call me "sane" and "reasonable". Now I'm learning the lesson all over again, except this time, I'm teaching it to myself, whereas in the past, I've always had to wait for others to teach it to me. One way or another, my Demonic will always be caged.
For further reading, please consult a book entitled "The Satanic Witch", by the late Anton Szandor LaVey. I've read it cover to cover. Have you?
Mon Sep 6 20:45:18 MDT 2004
Mon Sep 6 23:13:07 MDT 2004
The draft version of the "Frozen Aquarium" is now being generated.
Over my headphones, archived mp3s from my collection play randomly. Right now, it's running Sinead O'Connor's Nothing Compares 2 U.
If I were truly sane, I would have committed suicide long ago. The most sensible option, really. But I am insane, so I continue with this madness known as "life".
The numbers slowly scroll by. At this rate, it could be a while. But I think it will be worth it. As soon as the script finishes, I'll put the link up on the new "main index" of the evolving Ivanova version of my site.
Afterwards, I'm going to call it a night. But by "call it a night", I mean I'll go back outside, get on my bike, probably hit a few dumpsters on the way through town, and eventually wind up in my bed again. It was my daily routine for most of the month of July. I can do it again.
But shit, fuck that. I want to be INVOLVED in the world, not just roaming around eeking out a bare survival. But isn't learning basic survival in the world a necessary first step?
Well, here's to Food Not Bombs.
Could it be that I'm now heading into what's sometimes called a "black mania"? How much can I handle?
Maybe it really is time to call in the mental health experts to tranquilize me. Still, I hold out hope.
Artist: Faith No More. Track: Epic.
Now I'm just killing time while I wait for the script to run.
For some mysterious reason, Argo's drive now refuses to read DVD discs at all. CD's still work fine, but not a single one of my DVD's will do anything. Maybe the rumors are true...
Moment of no typing for the song Here in My Head, by Tori Amos (live performance, recorded eons ago).
...
Shit, stop this xmms. You're torturing me. Does it have to be VNV Nation now?
ARGGH. Enough. Now I'm choosing.
Artist: Sex With Sarah. Track: 222.
Much better. (Good luck finding out what happened to THAT band. I myself have no idea what hole they disappeared into after 1999.)
Worry not. All will be better by morning.
This is not something I just downloaded yesterday. This is shit that has been on hy harddrive ever since the days of DAGOBAH, for chrissakes. Some truly dark shit. No wonder I never fit in at ucollege.edu, where everything was all Pleasantville, all the time. A trap of full of fake niceness (except for my real friends, most of whom I still maintain contact with), worship credits, microsoft propaganda, and preachy bullshit.
Too much of the long-gone negative. Not enough of the positive NOW. The ancient past attempts to usurp the present. Will we allow it to happen? In our minds? Maybe it's only my mind.
Because 10 minutes from now, after I've left this room, I'll be right as rain. I won't remember any of this fate crap. I'll eat a chocolate chip cookie out of the 7-11 dumpster, and there will be no worries in the world.
This is the spell I cast upon myself, and I know it will work. Because lately, all the spells I've been casting have been far more effective than I would ever dare to expect. Why? I can only surmise that the universe (call it "Goddess" or "God" if you like) has made me one of its chosen, if only for a brief while. Forces far greater than myself have acted upon me, and I upon them.
Now I can only pray that... well... I don't even know, because I don't know what tomorrow's possibilities will be....
Crossfading into one of my favorites. (I chose it, overriding xmms's oddly random preferences.)
Emily Richards. Whisper Your Dreams.
Next, xmms chooses music by composer Sibelius. Finlandia. I approve.
Final formatting and cleanup. Today's page is nearly done. Midnight approaches. We now refer to this as the "scribbling wall". I suspect that it shall also evolve over time, but in what direction, I am not yet certain.
Let's darken the color a bit, except leave some blue....
Like this?
Yes, very good.
And drift away....
And farther, and farther away...
Submitted: Tue Sep 7 00:14:25 MDT 2004