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17 August 2018

Madness and the Queen of Cups

by Andrew

This just feels odd. It feels like I've nothing to say. I haven't wrote at all in a few days. Which is abnormal—to the last passed month anyway. Where I've wrote at least something—like pages and pages actually—almost every day. Or else, if not, then the next day definitely. Maybe I'm all tapped-out? We'll see. Or if anything, I can write about my boring life, like I always do anyway. I laugh.

But where'd I leave-off? That last blog post was the last thing I wrote. Even the journal has been just sitting on the floor collecting dust and the dirt I track in here from my shoes—though I've not even been going out so much really.

Well, damn. It's just near midnight now, Friday night, the 17th of August, about to be the 18th. The last post is dated the 12th, though I do remember not finishing it till the 13th, and then typing it. So, it's been about 5 days, then, since I last wrote, it doesn't even feel like. Maybe 3 days tops it feels like that I haven't wrote. Some vernacular. Seems a bit much, 5 days. But, alas...

Well, what have I been doing then? Like I mentioned, I've barely left the apartment. As sad as that sounds. Little walks only, to the grocery store, and then to the liquor store about every other night or so for a beer, like dessert, or like a glass of wine at supper, a beer for me. Was going to buy some wine the other night, actually. Merlot, I love. But I have no wine glass. So, I was going to have to buy one. Or else drink it in the tea cup. Which I was very seriously contemplating. But the grocery store has some nice wine glasses there, only like $2 or so, I think they were. But then, damnit, I don't have a corkscrew either. The one they put on a little display next to the wine was $8. Which is ridiculous, a damn corkscrew. But I found one some place else, browsing round the store a bit more, for $2. So, $4 extra than I'd intended I'd have had to have spent. Had to have had to—look at that! But when I went back by the wine,—which is only like $5, the wine, and pretty damn good for that—I saw they had 40s of Miller High Life there. Which I do love, High Life, I've no idea why. Especially in the summer. Which is winding-down, here. And they were only $2. So, I bought that instead of spend $10 on the whole wine set-up. Which I'll buy eventually, though. Because I do love some merlot every here and there. And certainly in the winter, it warms the old bones.

And then I been walking over to the liquor store,—which is close, close, like only a little 10 minute walk, I'd say, and then 10 minutes back—buying 40s of Colt 45. Old faces, there, they don't recognize me, all the people who've probably come through there since. Been ID'd by them all. Which I maybe drink half these 40s, get tired, go to sleep, and finish for breakfast. I'm not even going to defend myself. Got one sitting in the fridge right now that I'm about to crack, even. Though the eyes feel heavy already, really.

That's what I been doing more of, sleeping. Found a mattress for cheap, cheap, like 4 houses down too, so I didn't have to cart it very far at all. Now, it's not the most comfortable thing, by far, this mattress. It's way too soft. I just have it on the floor. Every time I sit, my ass hits the ground. And no, I'm not even a fatass, my rebel-monk lifestyle. But, it's infinitely nicer than sleeping on that hard floor. Which I'd have likely grown used to now anyway. Or else I'd be completely fried by now, not getting enough sleep. But thinking of it now, I still only been sleeping about 5 hours really. Maybe 2 nights I slept just passed 6 hours, even with the mattress. Maybe an half-hour nap, or hour or so, in the afternoon. My eyes been burning again, though, when I wake, in the morning. So, I think it's trying to catch-up with me, sleep. Which I'll let it. But when I'm up, I'm up. I wake-up once, and that's it for sleep.

Been keeping the same diet. Feel fine with that. A note to self, I wanted to add above to remember, that my activity level has been low. So, maybe not getting that deep sleep. Need to go take some damn walks, round campus would be nice. Draw some quick sketches.

Which reminds me. That I been painting. One earlier in the week, and then another just to-night. Like I've improved 100-fold. I watched some videos on YouTube about mixing paints and such, using the medium. Which made a world of difference, understanding the "intangibles" now. That painitng I did earlier in the week, I love. It restored my confidence completely. The one I did earlier to-night, I don't like as much. It's decent, I suppose. I'm already raising the bar, my standards. It was the first I did on bigger canvas, 8x10, I think it is, the one I did last night. Those other, previous paintings were like tiny 5x7s, just to get the motions down. But I'm so in love with this new little hobby, now, painting. I'll maybe have some more to say about that some other time, though, about how maybe everything has been leading me up to paint, crazy thoughts, kind of. But I don't want to get into all that right now.

I'd just finished that little Mastodon project when I last wrote, I think, if I remember correctly. Which is why I haven't been writing. I kind of jumped back into that, coding. Kind of. Building a payment processor with Stripe. But I know—or, knew, anyway, past tense—zero JavaScript. Which is mandatory, JavaScript. So, I been dissecting examples, trying to get the damn thing to work, this payment processor. And also started these damn books on html, css, and JavaScript that I've had for awhile, fairly simple, like introductions, a little deeper though, because I'm kind of stuck, and think it's a good time to pick-up a little JavaScript and all that—html 5— anyway. But I hate having to read for coding. It's so dry. And I been avoiding it. But I needed to write anyway, to keep that flow going. It's coming easier and easier, the words, sentences, thoughts, whatever. The hand moves automatically as I write, just recording. I return to my best skill when I feel like a failure at the others, to build back confidence, to tackle the others again——

Listening to this Deborah de Luca YouTube video I saw posted on Twitter, thank you, Mr Mehrtash. House music. I think it's called anyway. I never liked so much. For some reason now. How she's making them all wiggle, the mistress of waves, controlling them, tuning them, refining them, and re-distributing them, the waves. Artists are the nodes of Nature, conductors of chaos, who capture and then re-channel that frequency in the air.

***

Man is a little god, it's said. And it's true. Microcosmus. Pliny says. According to Burton anyway, Pliny says. The fairy god-mother says, Proclus who said. But, who's to say anyway? Who cares? Which is maybe sacrilege, that we are gods. O, well. I don't think anyway. We are little universes though. Only some are gods anyway. Or, demi-gods, half gods, like Heracles. "All our heros are dead," it's said. Or, "All the gods are dead." Yet, here we are, a new breed of demi-gods walk the Earth. For the Earth. To do battle. Which, like I said, is probably sacrilege. I'll be struck down. Maybe. Or cursed for life. But I think it's something else, to squalsh hedonism, we're here. A modern day Sodom and Gomorrah. The plague, the Black Death, all these pills from the pharmacy are creating, the flu-shots and such, certain immunities, so viruses have had to evolve, a new, plastic menace, manufactured from the sky. Little ticks, I've seen them. They've never been there, not back at home. Which I know, because I slept out there. And yet, there they were. I picked them off of me at the job, they were everywhere, that damn bug highway, I swear. Or something else, then. Earth's defense. Against humans, the virus we are, we're destroying her, she won't take much more. I know these things. Because I am connected, in-tune too, to that bug highway, an artist afterall. From the lineage of Zeus, if not himself, I have the aegis to protect me. A child of the Earth's, then, from her lineage too is Zeus. After maybe a period of quiet. We're back, there are others. Peek-a-boo. Like the 4 horsemen. Kind of. Because we'll survive this, like Sodom and Gomorrah, I said. Only a minor set-back. For trying to become like the gods themselves, trying to extend our lives with technology, all these pills from the pharmacy, and prosthetics. Taken to an extreme. By healthy people blessed with vitality most of their lives, they just won't die, already, like they're supposed to, naturally, the little ants. And so, they remain, to scurry all round still, the ant people, humans, for longer than they should be. And aliens help, extraterrestrials, gave them this technology. It sounds so stupid. There are also some here among us not of the Earth. Wherever they're from, strangers to our soil. Even the people, the ant people, like the race of demi-gods, they're even from the Earth too. Most of them, I'd say. But I don't know too. If these "invaders" have been populating. Certainly persuading. I don't know. I don't think much like this really, these technological E.T.s, and the blind ant people, though. Earth sent her demi-gods to do her bidding, to help, and she has nature to control, the ticks and the waves, the weather, all of it. And the demi-gods have this at their backs. Which may even destroy them, these natural calamities. But, what's death but finally some damn rest? We have no fear anyway, we're blessed.

I had to wake and write. Sometimes it comes. Though I'm always connected, always able to access when I will. I'd tell you all about it. Why I'm not recording all the time, I've no idea. There are other things. That's why not the bard, but the half-god. But the bard too. Like a prophet, it's one of my gifts. I know the future sometimes, I'm telling you. And my health, my vitality. My intuition too. I can read your mind from your face alone, not even. Just your presence in a room, I can feel. I know exactly. The queen of cups. Which was spooky. How accurate that card is to me. The creative power, the intuition, contemplating the connection. We all have. The compassion, empathy.

The dreams were strong again. It's like I only have to mention, and I remember again. Notice the moon, the waxing quarter last night, I believe it was. Was well down before I finally slept, I saw it there, bright but low in the western sky already. How it goes. Till full moon, longer and longer it's out at night, sets later and later as the sun rises. Keeping time.

The dream, I barely remember. The one who haunts them though. If you're thinking of them...So, why am I dreaming of you, then, so vividly? And my family—the extended, aunts and cousins. Your train, your cast of characters. And it's all about you. Like my hair was standing on end, it felt like, not in fear of course, but in shock, I want to say. Whatever it was, I can't quite remember.

There are different occult groups. That one of the devil's. But there's the white magic—it's called, I think—of Earth. Green magic, I'd rather. Energy through the fingertips from the greens, it's from the trees, druids, the demi gods. How it all connects, call it what you will, I'm so slippery in arguments, in conversation,—the snake in Eden—I can relate to it all. Or, I'll try anyway. Why not? I know who I am, and how to get back there. There's nothing to fear.

Well, for some, there's nothing to fear. But there will be plague. There will be calamity, natural disaster. The Earth is taking back her land, it'll only become more intense, I suspect. Though they laugh, these technological intruders, or persuaded ants, "What science do you have?" Because they are not connected. They don't "know" like we know. It's already been decided though.


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