Ecstasy

"And [the] ecstasy is obscene." -p.22

"The word is free, but I am not; the space is so saturated, the pressure of all which wants to be heard so strong that I am no longer capable of knowing what I want. I plunge into the negative ecstasy of radio." -p 25

But I know what I want. Barely, sometimes. And this isn't it. And that realization is..it's somethin', man. I can't tell you what it is I can only tell you what it feels like-

Sometimes it is so loud that I do not make noise, even when I should, even when there is vital and worthwhile communication to be made, because I cannot bear to raise the volume. Hurts my ears and gets me nowhere.

"[It is] an over proximity of all things, a foul promiscuity of all things that beleaguer and penetrate him, meeting with no resistance, and no halo, no aura, not even the aura of his own body to protect him." -p 27

I want my body. I want it to break. I want it to suffer. I want it to change--not once, but many times over. I want to be a monster. Fuckin' Omnimon or something.

I am reading too many words from the hand of a dead French man

I don't believe anyone who tries to discern between what is real and unreal; who hungers for what is 'real.' Nor do I believe in those who try, meticulously, consciously, to drag one into the other, because there is separation still in this process. I believe in hunger. This is neither strictly real or unreal. I believe in the bones before the flesh and the flesh as much as the glove.

Do you see?
Is that all?

How do you kill what is already dead?
The ceremony is never over

A creature of mud,

Wet and dried and painted on

A creature of ritual

This is my destiny

There must be play

I must move dangerously and pay prices
Owe debts
Give parts and pieces
Be divided and traded and swapped like patterned snake parts
I will be Changer Fissure Fracture
There are ten million lines to be crossed and uncrossed for no more reason than I like watching the squeeze of your leg muscles
It makes me think you are about to jump
And other things

I will not be a limitless stretch of skin

I've stuffed this whole concept into the frame of a game and in that frame it reads: "it isn't star power." I could say more on this, because I've started to figure more of it out. But I won't. Because I've no reason to yet.

Don't roll in the ecstasy of what is real
Come with your pockets lined with lies
No, not lies, let's be careful here--with fictions
If you write, I will read
It is so goddamn hard for me to read these days
But if you write, I will read
Write on anything
Write through everything
Just don't write shit.

The biggest lies I've told are the ones I gave when asked to speak honestly; not lies--misspeakings. The most painful truths I've told are buried, and not always that deep, in my fictions; there I will fight with you. I do not want slack jawed fascination; I have no need of it. There are others scraping the back of my brain with their art. Got places to go and shit to do!

But it is frustrating to watch a tiger stay in cities of mice because it is so determined to convince them that they are mice, and it a tiger. Borges has made me fond of jungle cats; I do not like watching them dig at the dirt when they could be digging at meat.

I wish I could feed you better than I am fed

I can roll my own skins; don't need no ten screen'd machine to do it for me
I have legs

I am afraid of neither distance nor hour
I have time
I have

They Are Not Really So Hard to Find, the Colossi.