Saturday, August 7, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
Music , you get it or you dont.
Tubeway Army , anyone. Off The Wall? Remember that smooth soul shit Mikey J put out when he was blackalicious still. Prince, he was funky. The Clash had that dancehall thing going on to. Do people actually dance any more?
And I mean fucking loose, really breaking it up and feeling Irie. When you know you heard between the grooves. When your Jamming and that blue note becomes a theme, and that Groan on the Vocal track becomes the Chorus until the whole thing limps into shape like a haunted caliope spinning out of control and when somethings wrong, I always check to see if I am holding my breath , then scope out the music situation. Need it like food.
Music is Majik but with science and stuff! We are the same stuff, essentially just vibrating and different speeds. So Flesh 2 Sound 2 Light. Anyone coming, there is no need to take a bag...
It does that thing.. where all the vibrations add up to more than the sum of their parts, you know? When the sing gets caught in your throat when I cry is trying to get out...
You can scream and shout. You deserve to be heard.
Often you are heard but because people feel silly saying, "I don't understand" so, if you mumble or jump topics you are going to be eaten alive conversationally. Listening helps to because even if someone is speaking shit to you, if you pay close attention to what they are saying they start doing so also. Neat trick. Bonus is getting to know stuff you didn't.
Maybe if we danced while thinking about something beyond our comprehension that would be a way out. It is, but its more like an Observation deck than really being there with fellow multi-dimesionals...
Phone Home.
And I mean fucking loose, really breaking it up and feeling Irie. When you know you heard between the grooves. When your Jamming and that blue note becomes a theme, and that Groan on the Vocal track becomes the Chorus until the whole thing limps into shape like a haunted caliope spinning out of control and when somethings wrong, I always check to see if I am holding my breath , then scope out the music situation. Need it like food.
Music is Majik but with science and stuff! We are the same stuff, essentially just vibrating and different speeds. So Flesh 2 Sound 2 Light. Anyone coming, there is no need to take a bag...
It does that thing.. where all the vibrations add up to more than the sum of their parts, you know? When the sing gets caught in your throat when I cry is trying to get out...
You can scream and shout. You deserve to be heard.
Often you are heard but because people feel silly saying, "I don't understand" so, if you mumble or jump topics you are going to be eaten alive conversationally. Listening helps to because even if someone is speaking shit to you, if you pay close attention to what they are saying they start doing so also. Neat trick. Bonus is getting to know stuff you didn't.
Maybe if we danced while thinking about something beyond our comprehension that would be a way out. It is, but its more like an Observation deck than really being there with fellow multi-dimesionals...
Phone Home.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Good Mourning, Sweert Heart.
Sometimes now i can think about you and i smile. I worry about wether i will get to talk to you again & often wish you would come to me in my dreams. Why don't you? Even if there is no I, as such, the illusion would be beautiful. . Everything is loaded with meaning or none at all. Music is different now. I feel a little bit guilty when I don't think of you for a minute. People have done what they can and continue too, but i am not sure I wan't to go on without you. Domestic life won't be the same. You were home. I am sorry to report that your family is still being mean but i am trying to love them. I know it was your biggest hurt that they didn't "see" us, but your Mum did tell me about the conversation in Singapore.
My Little Shadow. I miss you. xo
Matte Black
I always forgot the end of Sweet Charity, you know, Shirley Maclaine returns to the dance hall and round it goes again. Dizzy, light headed, I turn to where my Boo should be and ask again how it ends. We are in the elevator and she is squeezing my cheeks and counting my eyes. Everything in its right place. Except for sweet ol’ Charity Valentine. Stuck in a lift with a corpse and headed down. At the Lowest we aren’t in a movie anymore and Boo can’t tell me why because there is foam coming out of his nose and mouth. He has died. Viscera shifts into a scream but the breath doesn’t come, only the horror of the hollow.
When we first started living together I would lie awake at night and hold him and cry for joy, balled in relief, that here was The One and he thought so too. The hearts, when they could be heard, were like mad popping corn filling a room, covering the giggling boys in cruchy tid-bits, in jokes, cutesy voices, much lust and not a hint of what was to come. We had thought about it of course, as we all do. Thinking of Camus and Focault and how to gouge out the watching eyes of heathens that saw only debauch and foul play.
It ended very, very, very badly for us. Though Matthew had made a movie style exit, all Marylin Monroe. Naked and smiling. Handsome, with a chin and his upturned nose. Silent under the gutteral keening wail that came from everywhere in me. Leaving me behind in an energetic vehical I feel was meant for me, or at least big enough for two.
When we kissed it caused a home for us. A temple of flesh and bone and hair and cocks and bellies and hearts and teeths and little foots, all ours.
All mine.
MY BOO.
I didn’t lock the gate. I left him in a hot car with the window up. I didn’t keep him locked away safe from harm and life, which often I’m afraid are the same thing. If I had known I would have. (No no no no no no no.no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no) Am I crying now for what was? I weep and gnash and rally agianst the Matty shaped wound, but I cry for the future, what could have been.
I, his all powerful talisman held tight against the nothings and the somethings. We knew us well. I doubt you did. I know you won’t now.
Ever. There is a pit full of bile and diseased gut, it holds me to this life like a vicious dog savages the proverbial inner child that probably never was.
Matthew was a secret made of stars, to read the future in, to spell visions across a mad sky. A gentleman unnoticed by many, particularly the ones who knew him longest. A tricky pixie round and warm and furry, rolling on ,my way and fucking chuffed to be doing so. Sex. Let me write that again. Sex. Triple X from Go to Woah.
It was a lengthy circling of each other like we were sharks and a baby seal was our intention. Though, instead of swimming from up below and marking that night with a red splash. We headed further from shore and closer to sure and lay barely moving in the cool dark currents tangled up in visions of Angler fish lights, avoiding the others to vibrate in the deep space of a whale song. Adding our own noise in strange syncopated blue notes that played games with harmonics that the future men on the stars cried with joy to hear. Reassured that on the illest planet, there was still Love.
Real
Unadulterated
Unwavering
Stupid
Passionate
Brave
Innocent
Enthusiastic
Original
Total raving shining,
LOVE.
It was ours. It’s echo stills rings out loud enough for some of the land dwellers to bemoan the volume of our revellery. Some of them dance though, buoyed up by that mystery tune ringing in the tolling bells of the waves
I miss that song but remember the words.
The tune and how to play it however have slipped my mind.
The instrument alone sailing now beneath the soil.
Frequency unleashed.
Oblique strategy via Eno
In a dark place,
or a large room quietly
Leaked disbelief on the kitchen floor
Next to the space where the chair was
In the now empty kitchen.
In the cavity where
They tore the heart of the house out,
Still beating.
Sweating with paper trails,
Grunting in the idiotic phenomes
Of common troglodytes.
Lazy criminals,
Blinded by the poor I.Q of the idiot.
The Christian fathers are at it again,
Throw them to the liars.
Boys tending altars of dead gods,
Eating flesh and drinking blood,
make smile the parent,
who would not have him tread the boards.
Boy, bookless and loveless,
no noise no music and no words,
who still because of lion heart
lay dreaming of the day that he could be with me,
though he yet knew me not
and I who still lays here dreaming for the days he was.
Later I shall let you know about the first kiss,
The first real one after a thousand dead mouths,
Told in touch that we were us for real.
When that first morning broke we were still staring at each other. Oblivious to all but the potential.
We were prescision contructed in a garden rather than a factory.
We bloomed just out of season for the poor others to marvel at.
The Emporers temple garden
a carpet of bruising blossom, staining both soul and sole.
Stripped bare the trees now whips that flay,
during a time where even the passing of time strips skin from bone.
They miss you truly too.
You will always be darling and pure.
Boo Bear
I will always love you.
Papa bear. xo
When we first started living together I would lie awake at night and hold him and cry for joy, balled in relief, that here was The One and he thought so too. The hearts, when they could be heard, were like mad popping corn filling a room, covering the giggling boys in cruchy tid-bits, in jokes, cutesy voices, much lust and not a hint of what was to come. We had thought about it of course, as we all do. Thinking of Camus and Focault and how to gouge out the watching eyes of heathens that saw only debauch and foul play.
It ended very, very, very badly for us. Though Matthew had made a movie style exit, all Marylin Monroe. Naked and smiling. Handsome, with a chin and his upturned nose. Silent under the gutteral keening wail that came from everywhere in me. Leaving me behind in an energetic vehical I feel was meant for me, or at least big enough for two.
When we kissed it caused a home for us. A temple of flesh and bone and hair and cocks and bellies and hearts and teeths and little foots, all ours.
All mine.
MY BOO.
I didn’t lock the gate. I left him in a hot car with the window up. I didn’t keep him locked away safe from harm and life, which often I’m afraid are the same thing. If I had known I would have. (No no no no no no no.no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no) Am I crying now for what was? I weep and gnash and rally agianst the Matty shaped wound, but I cry for the future, what could have been.
I, his all powerful talisman held tight against the nothings and the somethings. We knew us well. I doubt you did. I know you won’t now.
Ever. There is a pit full of bile and diseased gut, it holds me to this life like a vicious dog savages the proverbial inner child that probably never was.
Matthew was a secret made of stars, to read the future in, to spell visions across a mad sky. A gentleman unnoticed by many, particularly the ones who knew him longest. A tricky pixie round and warm and furry, rolling on ,my way and fucking chuffed to be doing so. Sex. Let me write that again. Sex. Triple X from Go to Woah.
It was a lengthy circling of each other like we were sharks and a baby seal was our intention. Though, instead of swimming from up below and marking that night with a red splash. We headed further from shore and closer to sure and lay barely moving in the cool dark currents tangled up in visions of Angler fish lights, avoiding the others to vibrate in the deep space of a whale song. Adding our own noise in strange syncopated blue notes that played games with harmonics that the future men on the stars cried with joy to hear. Reassured that on the illest planet, there was still Love.
Real
Unadulterated
Unwavering
Stupid
Passionate
Brave
Innocent
Enthusiastic
Original
Total raving shining,
LOVE.
It was ours. It’s echo stills rings out loud enough for some of the land dwellers to bemoan the volume of our revellery. Some of them dance though, buoyed up by that mystery tune ringing in the tolling bells of the waves
I miss that song but remember the words.
The tune and how to play it however have slipped my mind.
The instrument alone sailing now beneath the soil.
Frequency unleashed.
Oblique strategy via Eno
In a dark place,
or a large room quietly
Leaked disbelief on the kitchen floor
Next to the space where the chair was
In the now empty kitchen.
In the cavity where
They tore the heart of the house out,
Still beating.
Sweating with paper trails,
Grunting in the idiotic phenomes
Of common troglodytes.
Lazy criminals,
Blinded by the poor I.Q of the idiot.
The Christian fathers are at it again,
Throw them to the liars.
Boys tending altars of dead gods,
Eating flesh and drinking blood,
make smile the parent,
who would not have him tread the boards.
Boy, bookless and loveless,
no noise no music and no words,
who still because of lion heart
lay dreaming of the day that he could be with me,
though he yet knew me not
and I who still lays here dreaming for the days he was.
Later I shall let you know about the first kiss,
The first real one after a thousand dead mouths,
Told in touch that we were us for real.
When that first morning broke we were still staring at each other. Oblivious to all but the potential.
We were prescision contructed in a garden rather than a factory.
We bloomed just out of season for the poor others to marvel at.
The Emporers temple garden
a carpet of bruising blossom, staining both soul and sole.
Stripped bare the trees now whips that flay,
during a time where even the passing of time strips skin from bone.
They miss you truly too.
You will always be darling and pure.
Boo Bear
I will always love you.
Papa bear. xo
As happy as we were
My bliss was yours and yours was mine
Control/alt/delete
If time were mine I would brutalise the universe and destroy it,
For simply one more day with you,
Happily I would dance with Kali and dash myself to pieces on her blade
Alterativley I would die by breathing out
refusing my body any air.
A tingle in my head
A song in my heart
You are myself still him self
Escaping this meat gaol
This loathsome incarceration of the body
That will not let me go.
To come join you.
Now I fear it is too late,
That you have truly gone and I hope you are in a better place,
Free from pain, from the liars, shysters, fools, the haters ,the ones that doubted our mutual dedication.
Free from violence & poor governance.
I miss you desperately and am willing to scale the proverbial pearly gates and scour the joint
Till I found you, where I could live inside your perfect kisses
My home in your heart, where I was always home
Your arms and arse my temple
Safe to worship you in view forever.
This I would do in an instant.
I tried but the world would not allow me to follow.
(I am so very sorry but I tried)
So now what? I would ask you, and then I know that the distance between is astronomical
Really, I am waiting to be at one with you.
Do I live well or are you waiting for me too?
I am exhausted but cannot sleep
When I do I dream of you I cannot see your face though I feel you.
I should on myself constantly and am lost.
If I cannot live for me I will live for you, for the Us that was,
For me still is.
You have died and I am inconsolable.
Dead on the inside and faking the days,
Waiting for death, inviting it to complete it’s job.
“always crashing in the same car”
Hurry up you boney cunt, the reaper has taken his job with enthusiasm but with little skill and even less discretion.
Surely if this had to happen there would have been enough room for us both.
As a rule I write prose in third person and with no I.
Though now a am again adolescent,
It is me me me. Us Us, I wish it was Us again as it should have always been
I love you Boo Bear & am proud to have been your Papa Bear.
within me and without you it will always be.
Death. I beg, come claim me too
XO
My bliss was yours and yours was mine
Control/alt/delete
If time were mine I would brutalise the universe and destroy it,
For simply one more day with you,
Happily I would dance with Kali and dash myself to pieces on her blade
Alterativley I would die by breathing out
refusing my body any air.
A tingle in my head
A song in my heart
You are myself still him self
Escaping this meat gaol
This loathsome incarceration of the body
That will not let me go.
To come join you.
Now I fear it is too late,
That you have truly gone and I hope you are in a better place,
Free from pain, from the liars, shysters, fools, the haters ,the ones that doubted our mutual dedication.
Free from violence & poor governance.
I miss you desperately and am willing to scale the proverbial pearly gates and scour the joint
Till I found you, where I could live inside your perfect kisses
My home in your heart, where I was always home
Your arms and arse my temple
Safe to worship you in view forever.
This I would do in an instant.
I tried but the world would not allow me to follow.
(I am so very sorry but I tried)
So now what? I would ask you, and then I know that the distance between is astronomical
Really, I am waiting to be at one with you.
Do I live well or are you waiting for me too?
I am exhausted but cannot sleep
When I do I dream of you I cannot see your face though I feel you.
I should on myself constantly and am lost.
If I cannot live for me I will live for you, for the Us that was,
For me still is.
You have died and I am inconsolable.
Dead on the inside and faking the days,
Waiting for death, inviting it to complete it’s job.
“always crashing in the same car”
Hurry up you boney cunt, the reaper has taken his job with enthusiasm but with little skill and even less discretion.
Surely if this had to happen there would have been enough room for us both.
As a rule I write prose in third person and with no I.
Though now a am again adolescent,
It is me me me. Us Us, I wish it was Us again as it should have always been
I love you Boo Bear & am proud to have been your Papa Bear.
within me and without you it will always be.
Death. I beg, come claim me too
XO
Fun and games.
I'm surrounded by theses entities and they are really very physically present. They are dense and can touch. They often get close by emulating a good friends frequency. Though a good friend you can always tell by looking. My eyes have stung a lot lately and make the tears but sometimes i weep without feeling, i just leak, stuff i cant cram inside. The pain is all I have and a keen closeness to his family. I feel they wish me harm and that affects me. Now blood tests, back to being a card carrying faggot again. Sharehouses? What the fuck is that/ I'm social but I don't wan't to have to talk or be reminded to eat, though again, economically, it could work. o fear, no advice will be forthcoming because no-one reads these notes. Pessimistic, you bet! Let me at it!
Synapses! 1.. 2.. 3.. Fire at will, at confusing impossible speeds throwing intention and consequence about like so much rice at some wedding of maths and word.
Intention, clear or otherwise, and it is incredibly important to comprehend fully, Intention, fully formed, wether as a dream, a hope, a spell, a wish , a collective unconsciounce agreement, chaos thrown.. whatever form. WILL MANIFEST IN THREE DIMENSIONS. This is not, bollox, hippy shit, crap, lies etc, but i think maybe you, have felt this before, seen it happen. Maybe even conciously chose an intention and activated it. To recap on the news of the Aeon.
EVERY INTENTION WILL MANIFEST IN THREE DIMENSIONS.
Usually near 'the intenders' *laughs, ahem. Sorry* immediate vicinity. No Really, I mean it... How exciting are we!
Sooo,
Now, we know we can, what do we decide to do with this, power, 'cause that is what it is. You/we/i could do nought, everything would stay just the way it is... except that it's already that way and it's still because of intention. Besides, when the people with money are misrepresented in terms of options for them that the poor (us) can't have, they build places to enjoy feeling that difference. We could change that illusion...?
Enough food for all, oh. Wait.
Did I mention that while these intentions manifest it is handy to forget about the intention by focusing on good old fashioned physical ways of gettin' stuff? Well, It is. For Example, If your current or active intention is to have a car` and drive about in it ( Remember Specifics), then getting your licence would be a Majik actin terms of manifestation. In otherwords if you want your licence,go get lessons , learn to drive etc, meanwhile back out in the universe the intention is gathering energy enough to put good feelings and other bells and whistles on your acheivement and its consequence...
On Consequence.
Do Not Embark on a working if you are not ready to 'own your shit', in fact if that is the case, turn back now. Everything you do, or manifest, regardless of your motivation will have a direct , intense, unpredictable and amazing :) consequence. These are the doors between the rooms. The 'real days' if you like. The time in between the times on are the times on. I digress. Remember, You are resposible for your actions and by their consequence also bound to duty.
I hope you got something from my rambling and am willing to discuss or explain any of the stuff written in this piece with you. These are my beleifs and i have arrived at these conclusion by 'scientific method' All in good spirit anyway. Peace, hope to hear from you, as you will me.
Benny.
a.k.a Dr P.K.Tygs
p.s Matty, I'm doing it!
Intention, clear or otherwise, and it is incredibly important to comprehend fully, Intention, fully formed, wether as a dream, a hope, a spell, a wish , a collective unconsciounce agreement, chaos thrown.. whatever form. WILL MANIFEST IN THREE DIMENSIONS. This is not, bollox, hippy shit, crap, lies etc, but i think maybe you, have felt this before, seen it happen. Maybe even conciously chose an intention and activated it. To recap on the news of the Aeon.
EVERY INTENTION WILL MANIFEST IN THREE DIMENSIONS.
Usually near 'the intenders' *laughs, ahem. Sorry* immediate vicinity. No Really, I mean it... How exciting are we!
Sooo,
Now, we know we can, what do we decide to do with this, power, 'cause that is what it is. You/we/i could do nought, everything would stay just the way it is... except that it's already that way and it's still because of intention. Besides, when the people with money are misrepresented in terms of options for them that the poor (us) can't have, they build places to enjoy feeling that difference. We could change that illusion...?
Enough food for all, oh. Wait.
Did I mention that while these intentions manifest it is handy to forget about the intention by focusing on good old fashioned physical ways of gettin' stuff? Well, It is. For Example, If your current or active intention is to have a car` and drive about in it ( Remember Specifics), then getting your licence would be a Majik actin terms of manifestation. In otherwords if you want your licence,go get lessons , learn to drive etc, meanwhile back out in the universe the intention is gathering energy enough to put good feelings and other bells and whistles on your acheivement and its consequence...
On Consequence.
Do Not Embark on a working if you are not ready to 'own your shit', in fact if that is the case, turn back now. Everything you do, or manifest, regardless of your motivation will have a direct , intense, unpredictable and amazing :) consequence. These are the doors between the rooms. The 'real days' if you like. The time in between the times on are the times on. I digress. Remember, You are resposible for your actions and by their consequence also bound to duty.
I hope you got something from my rambling and am willing to discuss or explain any of the stuff written in this piece with you. These are my beleifs and i have arrived at these conclusion by 'scientific method' All in good spirit anyway. Peace, hope to hear from you, as you will me.
Benny.
a.k.a Dr P.K.Tygs
p.s Matty, I'm doing it!
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